Close
About
FAQ
Home
Collections
Login
USC Login
Register
0
Selected
Invert selection
Deselect all
Deselect all
Click here to refresh results
Click here to refresh results
USC
/
Digital Library
/
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
/
Scripted voices: persona and speech in Senecan philosophy
(USC Thesis Other)
Scripted voices: persona and speech in Senecan philosophy
PDF
Download
Share
Open document
Flip pages
Contact Us
Contact Us
Copy asset link
Request this asset
Transcript (if available)
Content
SCRIPTED VOICES: PERSONA AND SPEECH IN SENECAN PHILOSOPHY by Scott Lepisto _________________________________________ A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (CLASSICS) August 2016 Copyright 2016 Scott Lepisto ii Scripted Voices: Persona and Speech in Senecan Philosophy Table of Contents Abstract iii Introduction 1 1. God and Luxury 20 1.A. The Voice of God in De Providentia 22 1.B. Nature’s Declaration: The Speech of Attalus in Ep. 110 33 1.C. Demetrius’s Hyperbole in De Beneficiis 41 1.D. The Harmony of the Happy Life: The Voices of Seneca, the Sage, and Socrates in De Vita Beata 56 2. Interpreting and Digesting Impressions 79 2.A. Socratic and Senecan Discourse in De Beneficiis 81 2.B. Harmony with Reason: The Speech of Ratio in Ep. 84 94 2.C. Teacher, Student, and Reader: The Speeches of Attalus and Sotion in Ep. 108 101 3. Body and Soul 110 3.A. The Emperor’s Mirror: Nero’s Speech in De Clementia 110 3.B. The Mirrors of the Deviant: The Speech of Hostius Quadra in the Natural Questions 117 4. Consolatory Personae 134 4.A. The Historian and the Philosopher: Cremutius Cordus in Ad Marciam 135 4.B. He Consoled You: Areus’s Speech in Ad Marciam 151 4.C. The Imperial Consoler: Claudius’s Speech in Ad Polybium 163 4.D. Brutus’s Admiration: The Speech of Marcellus in Ad Helviam 180 5. The Dissolution of History 193 5.A. Demaratus’s Prophecy in De Beneficiis 193 5.B. The Cycles of Life: The Speech of the Stoic in Ep. 77 198 5.C. Dissolving the Historian: The Voice of Aufidius Bassus in Ep. 30 208 5.D. Itaque ut M. Cato: The Speech of the Magnus Animus in Ep. 71 219 Conclusion 231 Bibliography 233 iii Abstract This dissertation is a series of close readings of the extended monologues that Seneca the Younger writes in the voices of other personae in his philosophical prose. Although Seneca is famous for being among the most versatile writers of antiquity, the speeches that he writes in the voices of other personae are so similar to what he writes in his own, authorial voice that they often echo one another or dissolve together on account of the absence of quotation marks in ancient Latin. This study argues that Seneca’s monologues in persona communicate Seneca’s own moral consistency, i.e. virtue, by implying that he cannot help but to speak as himself no matter which voice he assumes. At the same time, Seneca’s speeches in the voices of other personae illustrate the harmony of great minds throughout time and space with the divine universal ratio that structures, guides, and pervades the Stoic cosmos. The introduction highlights the distinctiveness of Seneca’s speeches in persona in light of his notorious versatility, as well as the norms prescribed by the rhetorical handbooks, which held that orators ought to vary their speech according the identity of those they imitate, and the conventions of other philosophers who commonly use other personae in their dialogues to express views other than their own. Turning to Seneca’s own words, I argue that his speeches in persona reflect both his internal consistency and the consistency of great minds with universal reason. Further, I argue that Seneca encourages his readers to recognize both his words and the words of his various personae as their own based on their own harmony with universal Stoic ratio. I pursue this argument through five chapters focusing on key themes widely regarded as central to Senecan philosophy in order to demonstrate the degree to which Seneca’s use of other voices illustrates his philosophical position and worldview in the literary design of his texts. The iv first chapter argues that even when Seneca advocates for logically contradictory attitudes regarding wealth in his own and others’ voices, he does so in ways that illustrate his and his speakers’ harmony with divine ratio. The second chapter demonstrates that Seneca is less concerned with presenting the Stoic theory of cognition systematically and in all its particulars than in illustrating the process of cognition through the literary form of his texts, specifically his use of others’ voices. The third chapter argues that the congruence of voices in De Clementia and the Natural Questions guide Seneca’s addressees towards a recognition of the pan-immanence of the Stoic soul, which is suffused throughout nature. The fourth chapter contends that Seneca departs from the norms of consolation as a genre through the fluid relationship between author, speaker, and addressee in the consolatory works. The fifth chapter demonstrates how Seneca’s anachronistic presentation of speech dissolves historical distinctions based on his and his speakers’ harmony with Stoic ratio while reminding the reader that, in a certain sense, they speak at the same moment when his audience reads his texts, namely the present. A short summary conclusion gesturing towards directions of future research follows. 1 Introduction Context The focus of this dissertation is the extended monologues that Seneca writes in the voices of specific personae (characters) in his philosophical prose. Few writers of antiquity were as capable of mastering a range of different voices as Seneca the Younger. Quintilian observes that he dealt with virtually every branch of literature (omnem fere studiorum materiam), including speeches, poems, letters, and dialogues (Inst. Orat. 10.1.129); we also know of scientific works, a biography of his father, and at least ten epigrams. Seneca capably writes in the voices of a myriad of different characters in his tragedies. He even ghostwrote Nero’s speeches. 1 His prose and poetry are so different from one another that for hundreds of years, readers believed them to have been written by different people. 2 In light of his notorious versatility, the extended monologues that Seneca writes in the voices of other personae in his philosophical prose stand out. What Seneca writes in other voices is so similar to what he writes in his own authorial that they almost always echo one another and often even dissolve together on account of the absence of quotation marks in ancient Latin. Often Seneca’s characters echo his words, sometimes verbatim, make the same didactic points, consider the same topics, themes, and imagery, and speak with his knowledge of history. Although Seneca sometimes gives these speeches in historical anecdotes, they implicitly or explicitly also seem to address Seneca’s addressee and readers. In contrast with other philosophers like Cicero and especially Plato who craft different characters who speak in 1 Tacitus Ann. 13.11. Seneca was the first imperial ghostwriter in the history of Rome (Tacitus Ann. 13.3). 2 Jesuit Martin Antonio Delrio (1551-1608 CE) and the Latin philologist Isaac Pontanus (1571- 1639 CE) were the first to prove the common identity of Seneca philosophus and Seneca tragicus. See Laarmann 2014: 53 for a brief account of Seneca’s reception in the Renaissance. 2 different styles, the personae of Senecan prose almost invariably sound a lot like Seneca, with minor, token alterations of names. 3 Whether they are Greek, Persian, or Roman, philosophers, politicians, historians, exiles, or emperors, speaking in fifth century BCE, the first century BCE, or in Seneca’s own day, Senecan personae typically echo Seneca’s own claims. 4 While other philosophers assume other voices to express views other than their own, Seneca almost always assumes other voices to express sentiments characteristic of his own authorial persona. 5 Seneca’s monologues in other personae depart not only from those of other philosophers, but also from the prescriptions of rhetorical handbooks dealing with speech in persona. Virtually all the handbooks emphasize that imitating another speaker is an exercise in particularity: one must attend to the age, sex, social standing, profession, state of mind, nationality, place, subject matter, and circumstances of the speaker. 6 Imitating another speaker entails an implicit assessment of a whole set of different factors, the most important being the persona or ethos of the imagined speaker. In the classroom, this imitation would have included changes in voice and 3 On the characters of Platonic philosophy, see Blondell 2002. On Cicero’s cultivation of different characters’ voices, see Mankin 2011: 19-23, 41-49. On the relationship between Cicero and Plato, including their use of characterization, see Fantham 2004: 49-77. As Sellars explains, to be a student of philosophy meant “involved engaging in a process of transforming one’s character (ἦθος) and soul (ψυχή), a transformation that would itself transform one’s way of life (βίος). Lucian, in his biography of the philosopher Demonax, makes it clear that his reason for writing this account is to provide such students with an example of a philosopher’s life that they can use as a pattern or model (παράδειγµα) for their own lives. In the light of this, ancient philosophy should perhaps be approached as a series of biographies of philosophers or examples of ideal philosophical lives rather than as a collection of theoretical systems or philosophies” (2003: 24). Seneca seems to depart from this notion insofar as he seems to have molded the philosophers of his texts according to himself. 4 Seneca does not write any extended monologues in the voices of women, save for personifications like Nature and Reason. 5 The major exception is his use of the fictus adversarius, on which see Merino Codoñer 1983: 131-148. 6 Emporius gives the most in-depth listing (rhet. p. 562). Cf. Theon prog. 9, Isid. Orig. 2.14.1-2. 3 gesture. 7 Seneca’s very own father (literally) wrote the book on declamation, which demanded sensitivity to the identity of either the imagined speaker in the case of suasoria or addressee in the case of controversia. Seneca hardly seems to rigidly adhere to his father’s prescriptions. Seneca’s practice of imitating other speakers also contrasts even with the etymology and meaning of the terms, which designate speech in persona. Scholars typically refer to Seneca’s extended monologues as instances of prosopopoeia, 8 speech in another’s voice or, to provide a translation that honors the its etymology, “character-making,” though one might refer to them as instances of ethopoeia (also “character-making”), sermocinatio (“speech-making”) or fictio personae (“personification”) in certain instances. Lausberg 1998 provides the most authoritative overview of these terms in the ancient rhetorical handbooks. He defines sermocinatio as, “the fabrication – serving to characterize natural (historical or invented) persons – of statements, conversations and soliloquies or unexpressed mental reflections of the persons concerned” (1998: 366). He notes that a “sermocinatio need not be historically true; it should only be ‘probable’, i.e. it should, in particular, be in agreement with the character of the person speaking” (1998: 367). 9 Though most ancient rhetoricians differentiate prosopopoeia/fictio personae (used of non-humans and the dead) from ethopoeia/sermocinatio (used of living people), Quintilian refers to sermocinatio as not only ἠθοποιία (9.2.31), but also prosopopoeia (3.8.49; 6.1.25) and fictio personae (9.2.29). 10 It is worth pointing out that these terms are not distinguished 7 On shifts between speaking personae, see Winterbottom 1984: 301 ad247.7. 8 E.g. Armisen-Marchetti 2006: 190; Ker 2009: 78, 82, 85, 352; Williams 2003: 95. 9 Frequently, the line separating Seneca’s persona from the personae of those whose voices he appropriates is vanishingly thin; Lausberg admits “the imitative communication of the speaker about himself” as a “borderline case” (1998: 369). 10 In addition to this terminological variation, Lausberg 1998: 367 notes that sermocinatio is less often referred to as moralis confictio, figuratio et expressio, allocutio, µίµησις, imitatio morum alienorum, sermones hominum assimulati, διάλογοι, or διαλογισµός. For even more subtypes of the figure, see Heusch 2005: 18-23. 4 rigorously in Theon either, who wrote sometime in the first century CE, perhaps during Seneca’s life. It is possible that the terms became more and more rigorously differentiated over time. One might dismiss the importance of terminology were it not for the fact that ethopoeia/prosopopoeia were such common exercises in Roman education. Seneca would have surely been exposed to the terminology and would have undoubtedly practiced the figure of speech in the classroom. Virtually all ancient, literate Romans would have had at least some exposure to the exercises outlined by the progymnasmata, whose dates of composition range from the 1 st century CE to the 5 th century CE, though theoretical discussions of ethopoeia and prosopopoeia carried on well afterwards. Models of ethopoeiae and prosopopoeiae were produced into the medieval period. The exercises of the progymnasmata followed roughly this order: fable, narrative, chria, aphorism, kataskeuê (confirmation) and anaskeuê (refutation), commonplaces (rehearsal of opinions on various social stereotypes), encomium, blame, comparison, prosopopoeia/ethopoeia, ekphrasis (a vivid description), thesis (general questions), and the introduction of a law. 11 Ethopoeia/prosopopoeia always occupied a position relatively late in the progymnasmata indicating that they were among the most difficult exercises. 12 While there are small variations from one handbook to another, they show remarkable consistency across the centuries. It is unthinkable that a Roman as well educated as Seneca would have been ignorant of the terminology or, more importantly, the practice. It is worth observing that prosopopoeia is hardly a limited phenomenon in Senecan prose. In fact it is so pervasive that some scholars have balked at Quintilian’s assignation of some of Seneca’s works to the genre of dialogi, on account of the fact that his works lack fully realized characters and settings. Some have suggested that Quintilian derives the term dialogi from the 11 On the variations in order between handbooks, see Heusch 2005: 14-18. 12 Cf. Quintilian Inst. 3.8.49. 5 pervasiveness of prosopopoeia. 13 Although Roller 2015: 54-67 has made a convincing case that the prose works referred to as dialogi in fact have all the genre’s trappings as ancient Romans understood them, the debate nonetheless indicates how pervasive this rhetorical technique is in Seneca’s writing. In fact, this figure of speech is so pervasive that it would be impossible to deal with it in a single book or a single dissertation, so I will confine myself to those extended monologues (of at least four sentences) that Seneca attributes to specific, defined personae, including personifications. 14 Due to the restrictions of the form, it is impossible for me to deal with all of Seneca’s speeches attributed to the generic soul, the sage, his opponent, or an anonymous speaker. To sum up, Seneca’s monologues in persona are a defining feature of his prose, belie his versatility as a writer, depart from the conventional approach to speech in persona by other philosophers, and contrast with the terms and prescriptions in the rhetorical handbooks. Senecan Speech This dissertation aims to answer why, departing from rhetorical and philosophical convention, Seneca so commonly assumes other voices only to write words characteristic of his own authorial persona. Scholars have not yet even raised this question let alone answered it. Seneca’s sententious style has often distracted readers from noticing the internal, formal 13 Griffin 1976: 414-15, endorsed by Williams 2003: 3-4. 14 Ps. Hermogenes (prog. 9 p. 20) and Priscian (praeex. p. 45) both differentiate speeches given by indefinite (infinitus) and specific (finitus) speakers. In at least a couple of instances, Seneca clarifies after his claims that he was in fact speaking in persona (examples). These clarifications raise the possibility that Seneca sometimes speaks in the voice of another persona without marking it as such. Seneca frequently gives speeches, which he attributes to “you.” However, some of these speeches seem to represent not Seneca’s addressee, but simply an anonymous or generic opponent. There are some cases were the speaker seems to be a particular character, though Seneca does not explicitly refer to a speaker (e.g. Const. 6.3-7). 6 relationships that he deftly weaves within each individual philosophical text. 15 Historians of philosophy, cultural historians, and even literary scholars tend to analyze Seneca’s individual claims or excerpted passages as part of a coherent project without regard for the substantive differences between the works in which they appear, which pursue different didactic and psychagogic ends and are addressed to different individuals in different circumstances. In their attempts to recover the unity underpinning all of Seneca’s varied philosophical works (and sometimes even his works in other genres as well) or the coherent life of the philosopher, scholars have overlooked how the literary form of each, individual text functions as a vehicle for philosophical expression. 16 Rather than attempting to grasp Senecan prose as a single, unified entity or creating a coherent picture of the life of the historical Seneca, I interpret each speech within the context of the work in which it appears. I focus on the internal part-to-whole relationships that Seneca writes into each individual text through assigning speeches to other speakers. This approach privileges the unity and integrity of each work as a unit of meaning over the totality of the corpus; it also privileges Seneca’s texts over the history of their author. Through assuming another voice, Seneca creates divisions, albeit oftentimes vanishingly slight ones, between a speech and the body of the text and his authorial persona and another’s. These speeches are, in a 15 The major studies on Senecan style are Traina 1989 and Setaioli 2000. A number of scholars, mostly German, have analyzed the structure of his writing (Abel 1967, Maurach, G. 1970, Hengelbrock, M. 2000) though they do not always coordinate the structure of his works with their content. 16 Williams 2015: 136 claims to accept the proposition and “for many scholars, the established fact – that style and form are inseparable from Senecan philosophical meaning.” In spite of his claim that form is inseparable from meaning, Williams in fact does not analyze any letter or dialogue in his piece in its totality. He hardly remarks upon the formal relationship between parts of individual texts. 7 sense, separate from the rest of the body of the text, yet also part of the text just as they are in a sense not Seneca’s words, but also Seneca’s words. I interpret the relationship between Seneca’s voice and the voices of those he imitates through the broad outlines of his Stoic worldview. For Stoics, to live in concord with one’s own reason is the same thing to live in concord with the divinity of the whole. Each person’s nature is part of nature as a whole. Such part-to-whole, microcosm-to-macrocosm ways of thinking pervade the writing of Stoics and inform the literary design of Seneca’s texts in ways that have not been recognized. In a passage reflective of these tendencies, Diogenes Laertius writes, For our natures are a part of the nature of the universe. Therefore our goal becomes to live according to nature, which is according to one’s own nature and the nature of the universe, doing nothing forbidden by common law, correct reason, which pervades all things, being the same as Zeus, the leader of the administration of things. This is the same thing as the virtue of the happy man and the good flow of life, whenever all things are done according to the concord of divinity of each man and the plan of the administrator of the universe. 17 Diogenes’s account is by no means unique. 18 Seneca often corroborates this view. Epistle 66 provides an illustrative case study. Seneca explains that virtue itself can be made neither lesser nor greater (nec minor fit aut maior ipsa, Ep. 66.7) and that its force and magnitude cannot rise higher because there can be no addition to what is already the greatest (incrementum maximo non est). By comparison, there is nothing straighter than what is straight (Nihil… rectius recto, Ep. 66.8). Virtue is always the same. 19 He claims that right reason is one and singular (Una enim est 17 µέρη γάρ εἰσιν αἱ ἡµέτεραι φύσεις τῆς τοῦ ὅλου. διόπερ τέλος γίνεται τὸ ἀκολούθως τῇ φύσει ζῆν, ὅπερ ἐστὶ κατά τε τὴν αὑτοῦ καὶ κατὰ τὴν τῶν ὅλων, οὐδὲν ἐνεργοῦντας ὧν ἀπαγορεύειν εἴωθεν ὁ νόµος ὁ κοινός, ὅσπερ ἐστὶν ὁ ὀρθὸς λόγος, διὰ πάντων ἐρχόµενος, ὁ αὐτὸς ὢν τῷ Διί, καθηγεµόνι τούτῳ τῆς τῶν ὄντων διοικήσεως ὄντι· εἶναι δ’ αὐτὸ τοῦτο τὴν τοῦ εὐδαίµονος ἀρετὴν καὶ εὔροιαν βίου, ὅταν πάντα πράττηται κατὰ τὴν συµφωνίαν τοῦ παρ’ ἑκάστῳ δαίµονος πρὸς τὴν τοῦ τῶν ὅλων διοικητοῦ βούλησιν, 7.87-88. 18 Cf. Ep. 92.30 as well as S.E. M 9.104-110 and Cic. ND 11.11. For a lucid discussion of the relationship between cosmology and ethics in Stoicism, see Inwood and Donini 1999: 675-738. 19 Later in the letter he writes, bona vera idem pendent, idem patent, Ep. 66.30. 8 ratio recta simplexque, Ep. 66.11). 20 After describing the fact that mortal things decay, fall, grow up, etc., Seneca writes that, in contrast, the nature of the gods is singular (divinorum una natura est) and that reason (Ratio) is nothing other than part of the divine spirit in a human body (in corpus humanum pars divini spiritus) and further that there is no distinction between divine things (nullum … inter divina discrimen est, Ep. 66.12). 21 Recta ratio is one and consistent within itself, but also consistent with ratio as a whole. Numerous similar passages will be discussed throughout the dissertation. This example is representative of the degree to which Seneca’s conception of morality and virtue is tied to his belief in pan-immanent divine ratio. The part-to-whole relationship between individual reason and reason as a whole (or the soul and god) play a crucial, though implicit, role in informing Seneca’s idiosyncratic use of prosopopoeia. Later in Epistle 66, Seneca explains that whatever virtue touches, it draws into likeness with itself and colors (Quidquid attigit in similitudinem sui adducit et tinguit, Ep. 66.8). Seneca claims that all the virtues are equal to one another as are works of virtue and all people whom virtues touch (Ergo virtutes inter se pares sunt et opera virtutis et omnes homines quibus illae contigere, Ep. 66.10). People who possess virtues (wisdom, courage, moderation and the like) are all alike. Seneca makes similar claims elsewhere in the Epistles. Meditating on the nature of renown (claritas), Seneca explains the counterintuitive notion that renown does not require many votes (multa suffragia); it can be content (contenta) with the vote of one good man (unius boni viri, Ep. 102.11). Seneca, explaining how it is that renown does not require the opinion of many, claims that if a good man (vir bonus) has a good opinion (bene… sentit) of him, he stands in the same position (eodem loco) as if all good men were to have the same opinion 20 Cf. Ep. 66.32: Ratio rationi par est, sicut rectum recto; ergo et virtus virtuti. Virtus non aliud quam recta ratio est. 21 In Ep. 48.11, Seneca claims that philosophy makes us equal to the gods (Hoc enim est, quod mihi philosophia promittit, ut parem deo faciat). 9 (omnes boni idem sentirent) since their judgment of good men is the same and equally imbued by the truth (Par illis idemque iudicium est, aeque vero inficiscitur). He claims that they cannot disagree (Dissidere non possunt) and further that one opinion (una sententia) can stand for all (omnium) since if the queestion were asked of all (omnium), their opinion would be the same one (una erit, Ep. 102.12-13). Seneca accounts for this uniformity of opinion by writing that truth (veritas) has a singular power (una vis) and appearance (una facies, Ep. 102.13). Anyone good, i.e. anyone wise, who possesses the same knowledge, will judge matters similarly. The judgment of all good men is the same. Presumably insofar as truth has imbued them (inficiscitur) or virtue has colored them (tinguit, Ep. 66.8), they would judge all things alike were they to have the same knowledge or be in the same circumstance. The fact that so many Senecan personae read is if they were giving the speeches that Seneca would give in similar circumstances at once projects Seneca’s own goodness, even as it adumbrates the shared goodness of all those he imitates. Seneca’s monologues in persona suggest the concordance of great minds throughout space and time as well as the harmony of Seneca’s own individual soul. After the opening of Epistle 20, in which Seneca exhorts Lucilius to prove his words by his deeds (verba rebus proba, Ep. 20.1), Seneca writes that there is one goal (Aliud propositum) for declaimers (declamantibus) who are seeking the approval of the audience (adsensionem coronae captantibus), another for those who capture the ears (aures) of the young and the indolent (otiosorum) with varied and unstable discussion (disputatione varia aut volubili). Philosophy, on the other hand teaches us to act not speak (facere docet philosophia, non dicere) and demands this (exigit), namely (Ep. 20.2), 10 ut ad legem suam quisque vivat, ne orationi vita dissentiat vel ipsa inter se vita; 〈ut〉 unus sit omnium actionum color. 22 Maximum hoc est et officium sapientiae et indicium, ut verbis opera concordent, ut ipse ubique par sibi idemque sit. that each live according to its law, that one’s life not vary from one’s speech nor from itself; that there be a single hue to all of one’s actions. This is the greatest duty and indication of wisdom, namely that one’s deeds harmonize with one’s words and that one is always and everywhere equal to oneself. Seneca has no time for the varied (varia) and unstable (volubili) speech characteristic of declaimers (declamantibus); volubilis could be translated as “flowing,” but Seneca seems to be drawing a contrast between the straightforward speech of philosophers and the adornment of oratory. Perhaps the most important claim that Seneca makes is that the greatest indication of wisdom is to always be equal to oneself (ipse ubique par sibi idemque sit). In refusing to dramatically alter his voice when assuming another’s, Seneca can be understood to be illustrating such consistency. In every place and at every time, Seneca continues to speak like Seneca: he makes the same points, uses the same vocabulary, considers similar content, and writes in the same style. Elsewhere, he claims that a foolish soul shows itself in one form and then another (alius prodit atque alius) such that it is unequal to itself (impar sibi est). He beckons Lucilius to believe that acting as one man is a great thing (Magnam rem puta unum hominem agere). He writes, “Besides the wise man, however, no one acts as one person; the rest of us vary greatly” (Praeter sapientem autem nemo unum agit, ceteri multiformes sumus). He exhorts Lucilius (Ep. 120.22), Hoc ergo a te exige, ut qualem institueris praestare te, talem usque ad exitum serves; effice ut possis laudari, si minus, ut adgnosci. Therefore make this demand from yourself: maintain yourself up until the end just as you began to present yourself. Make sure that you can be praised or at least recognized. 22 Following Madvig’s reading. 11 On the one hand, Seneca’s injunctions seem to fly in the face of the role-playing of his satire, tragedies, and philosophical works, all of which involve assuming different roles; on the other hand, Seneca’s practice regarding prosopopoeia can be read as reflective of his preaching since he can be recognized within all the roles that he plays. It is worth observing that Seneca describes the works of other Stoics as being similarly consistent both within themselves and with one another. In the 33 rd Epistle, Seneca encourages Lucilius to focus on philosophical works in their entirety rather than excerpts, even though he concludes almost every one of the preceding letters with a quotation. In the beginning of the letter, Seneca mentions that Lucilius wants a few words from “our school” (voces nostrorum procerum) to be added to these letters as he had added to previous letters. He claims that they did not concern themselves with choice excerpts (circa flosculos occupati), but rather that, “the whole fabric of their works is manly” (totus contextus illorum virilis est, Ep. 33.1). He explains that, “You can recognize a certain unevenness when what stands out can be distinguished” (Inaequalitatem scias esse ubi quae eminent notabilia sunt). By comparison, a tree is not worthy of admiration if the whole forest rises to the same height. 23 With respect to the Epicurean maxims that Seneca has been citing, he beckons Lucilius not to consider them to be Epicurus’s (nolo illas Epicuri existimes esse) since they belong to all (publicae), most of all to “us” (maxime nostrae) i.e. the Stoics. I accept Davies’s reading of virilis as a figura etymologica for the highest good of the Stoics: virtus (2010: 194). 24 Presumably, one reason why it is important to read Stoic works, including Seneca’s, in their entirety is that the relationship between their individual claims illustrate the virtue of their authors. While Epicurus might occasionally utter a phrase 23 Non est admirationi una arbor ubi in eandem altitudinem tota silva surrexit, Ep. 33.1. 24 Seneca praises Lucilius on similar grounds, namely for the fact that his composition and its tenor is both manly and virtuous (fuit… conpositio virilis et sancta, Ep. 46.2). 12 worthy of a Stoic contextus, Stoic philosophical works are crammed with such phrases with the result that their whole fabric is aequalis. The individual sentences of Stoic works are equally excellent. Their cumulative effect illustrates the virtue of their authors. However, Seneca also mentions that the aequalitas of the Stoics is evident when comparing the writing of one to another. Although Seneca encourages Lucilius to attend to Stoic works in their entirety in Epistle 33, he suggests that they all write equally great sententiae. Seneca claims that Lucilius has no need for excerpts from him, since such thoughts that one might excerpt from others (apud alios excerpitur) are continuous (continuum) among the Stoics (apud nostros, Ep. 33.3). Seneca writes (Ep. 33.4), Iam puta nos velle singulares sententias ex turba separare: cui illas adsignabimus? Zenoni an Cleanthi an Chrysippo an Panaetio an Posidonio? Non sumus sub rege: sibi quisque se vindicat. Apud istos quidquid Hermarchus dixit, quidquid Metrodorus, ad unum refertur; omnia quae quisquam in illo contubernio locutus est unius ductu et auspiciis dicta sunt. Non possumus, inquam, licet temptemus, educere aliquid ex tanta rerum aequalium multitudine… Quocumque miseris oculum, id tibi occurret quod eminere posset nisi inter paria legeretur. Now imagine that we wish to separate single maxims from the crowd: to whom will we assign them? To Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Panaetius or Posidonious? We are ruled by no king: each of us claims himself for himself. Among them, whatever Hermarchus said, whatever Metrodorus said, can be ascribed to one source. Everything anyone has said in that association has been uttered under the leadership and auspices of one person. We are not able, though we may try, to draw out something from such a great multitude of consistent things… Wherever you cast your gaze, something will meet you which would have stood out were it not read among equally eminent things. Seneca goes on to encourage Lucilius to turn his attention to entire works, but the passage above equates the sententiae of the great Stoics. The words of both schools are homogeneous, albeit for different reasons. All the words of the Epicureans are the same: they are Epicurus’s. The Stoics on the other hand all say equally notable things regardless of the historical and doctrinal differences that separate them. No Stoic maxim is better than another such that their entire works 13 are worthy of inspection and Seneca implies that one Stoic’s words are just as excellent as another’s. They are all of such a quality that they might be assigned to any Stoic. Seneca underscores the harmony and consistency of the words of the Stoics at the level of the sentence, work, and school. While occasionally a phrase or two of Epicurus or his followers might be excellent enough to be included within a Stoic contextus, a Stoic contextus includes only excellent phrases. Seneca can contextualize choice phrases of Epicurus and even Epicurean speeches in his own Stoic works in ways that nonetheless adumbrate Stoic consistency. Seneca’s prosopopoeiae reflect the aequalitas that characterizes individual Stoic works as well as the aequalitas of all members of the Stoic school. It is worth pointing out that language specifically has a special power to reveal the aequalitas or inaequalitas of one’s soul. One might contrast the consistency of Seneca’s ideal philosopher’s words, life, and deeds to his characterization of Maecenas’s style in Epistle 114. In the first section of the letter, Seneca approvingly cites the Greek dictum: “People speak as they live” (talis hominibus fuit oratio qualis vita, Ep. 114.1). He explains that it is not possible for the quality of one’s talent to be different from one’s soul (Non potest alius esse ingenio, alius animo color, Ep. 114.3). 25 Again, this seems to reflect Seneca’s practice of prosopopoeia: Seneca’s ingenium shines through no matter whom he imitates. To conclude the letter, Seneca beckons Lucilius to take care of the soul (curetur), since it is the source of thoughts, words, habits, countenances, and even our gait (ab illo sensus ab illo verba… ab illo… habitus, vultus, incessus, Ep. 114.22). Seneca praises Fabianus by the same rationale. Seneca defends Fabianus’s style, writing that it is peaceful (placida), formed according to the calm and composed tenor of 25 Cf. Ep. 114.4: Quanto hoc magis accidere ingenio putas, quod totum animo permixtum est, ab illo fingitur, illi paret, inde legem petit? 14 his soul (ad animi tenorem quietum compositum). 26 He explains that his style is not pedestrian (depressa), but rather even (plana), a synonym for aequalis. 27 While it may lack the energy and shock, which Lucilius seeks, his corpus is nonetheless well-ordered (comptum) and noble (honestum, Ep. 100.8). Again note the moral weight that Seneca places on literary form. The texts directly reflect the soul of the writer. 28 Paradoxically, the elusive unity of Seneca that scholars have struggled so hard to find might be most easily recognized in the moments in which he speaks as someone else. However, one might also say that the unity between Seneca and the personae he imitates is suggestive of our unity with Seneca. We take part in Seneca’s particular consistency, perhaps especially if we read his texts aloud, as Roman readers commonly did. As Seneca notes, the source of our words is our soul and presumably Seneca would have us experience his harmony with universal divine reason as our own soul prompts our vocalization of the text. Seneca seems to recognize others’ words as his own in ways that should prompt recognition of his words as ours. Before introducing an Epicurean dictum, Seneca claims that there is no reason for Lucilius to admire his mind (quod mireris animum meum) since he is being generous with another’s property (de alieno). However, he asks, “Why should I have called it another’s? Whatever is said well by another is mine” (Quare autem alienum dixi? quidquid bene dictum est ab ullo meum est, Ep. 16.7). If one were to read this text aloud, then one might recognize the source of the dictum not as Seneca, but as himself or herself. 26 See 2.B. 27 Seneca praises Lucilius’s work on the same grounds. After noting that he was enticed into traversing it as some length by its pleasantness, he notes in particular that it seemed to him smooth (levis, Ep. 46.1). 28 See also the introduction to chapter two. 15 Presumably the words of any thinker are Seneca’s and Seneca’s words are those of any thinker, insofar as their souls are consistent with divine reason. Elsewhere, in anticipation of the question, “Why not cite a Stoic?” Seneca asks, “Why do you think they are Epicurus’s words and not common property (publicas)?” (Ep. 8.8). Seneca claims that many poets say things that have been spoken and should be spoken by philosophers. 29 Insofar as anyone speaks in harmony with Stoic ratio, as Stoics typically and Epicureans at least sometimes do, there is little point in distinguishing one of their sententiae from another. 30 In Epistle 33, Seneca encourages Lucilius to make the words of others his own not by memorizing them, but by knowing them. He claims it is shameful to prop oneself up upon the fewest and most well known sayings and rely on his memory (fulcire se notissimis ac paucissimis vocibus et memoria stare). He explains that it is one thing to remember something, another to know it (Aliud… est meminisse, aliud scire). To memorize is to safeguard a matter entrusted to memory (Meminisse est rem commissam memoriae custodire) whereas to know means not depending upon a model (nec ad exemplar pendere) or looking back to one’s teacher (respicere ad magistrum, Ep. 33.8). Seneca shows his independence from the models he imitates through remaining in his own voice; their words are his. Seneca explains at the letter’s end that this may or may not mean making innovations upon philosophical predecessors; the point is that we say the same words on our own behalf, not that we necessarily come up with something new, though we might. Their words ought to be our words. Chapter-by-Chapter Overview 29 Quam multi poetae dicunt quae philosophis aut dicta sunt aut dicenda!, Ep. 8.8. 30 One might compare Seneca’s appropriations of others’ texts as his own in relation to the sage, who possesses all things: Unus est sapiens, cuius omnia sunt nec ex difficili tuenda, Ben. 7.3.2. Later he gives the words of the sage as he looks out over all of nature: “Haec omnia mea sunt!”, Ben. 7.3.3. 16 I have organized the close readings that comprise each chapter in order to highlight themes regarded by most scholars as being of central importance to Seneca’s philosophical prose. A long line of scholars has investigated the nature of Seneca’s philosophical commitments, usually by surveying his explicit claims without regard for the literary form of the work in which they appear. Through focusing on the relationship between each speech and the body of the text, I offer a reappraisal of these commitments in light of the literary form through which Seneca expresses them. By organizing my analyses of Seneca’s speeches around these themes, I aim to draw out both the ways in which Seneca’s philosophical commitments inform the literary design of each work as well as how the literary design of his works might play a role in how we are to assess his objective, philosophical claims. For instance, in a number of cases, I demonstrate how Seneca communicates a broadly Stoic worldview in spite of the logical contradictions in his surface rhetoric. Throughout I argue that what some scholars have taken as evidence of facile “eclecticism,” outright hypocrisy, and departures from Stoic orthodoxy can in fact be read as communicating a broadly Stoic worldview in the literary form of his writings. In essence, I argue that the broad outlines of his Stoic worldview as articulated above play a greater role in informing his treatment of various Stoic topics rather than strict adherence to the letter of Stoic orthodoxy. 31 The first chapter analyzes four speeches in four texts within the context of Stoic theology, which Seneca claims is the most important branch of philosophy. 32 While the gods of the Epicureans and the cosmic demiurge of Plato’s Timaeus, for instance, are absent from the physical world, the god of the Stoics is immanent within the entire cosmos and plays an active 31 The very notion of a Stoic orthodoxy is problematic in so far as it runs the risk of turning the history of the school into a static, unchanging, quasi-Platonic ideal. 32 See N.Q. 1.pref.2. Cf. Setaioli 2014: 379. 17 role in shaping matter and guiding the course of fate. While Seneca in his own and other voices (god in De Providentia, Attalus in Epistle 110, and Demetrius in De Beneficiis) repudiates the value of wealth, he also elsewhere expresses his preference for wealth over poverty, again in his own and other voices (Socrates and the sage in De Vita Beata). However, Seneca implies that these speeches, regardless of their apparent logical contradictions, are imitations of god. In each work, Seneca explains that to imitate god is to conform to his will; he describes god’s self- sufficiency as a moral paradigm for humankind across all four texts. In spite of the logical contradictions between his works, Seneca nonetheless illustrates his consistency and the consistency of those he imitates with the Stoic god through the interplay of voices rather than in the objective content of his explicit claims. The second chapter deals with speeches informed by the Stoic theory of cognition. The Stoics held that the soul underwent physical transformations in response to impressions, i.e. both sense-data generated by external objects and thoughts. A number of scholars have made convincing cases that the Stoic theory of impressions informs Seneca’s writing. However, Seneca never presents the theory in any rigorously systematic way. In fact, one might contrast Seneca’s frequently elliptical allusions to the theory with the more technical presentation by other sources. 33 Rather than attempting to express the theory in all its particulars, this chapter argues that Seneca emphasizes different aspects of the theory from text to text depending on his didactic aims. The third chapter interprets the speeches of Nero in De Clementia and Hostius Quadra in the Natural Questions, both of which are informed by Stoic understandings of the relationship between body and soul. While the Epicureans believed that the soul was composed of discrete 33 E.g. L-S 39A-B, G. 18 atoms and Platonists held the soul to be incorporeal, the Stoics believed both that the soul is part of god and that what god is to passive matter is what the soul is to the body. In De Clementia, Seneca repeatedly adapts this analogy in his claim that what Nero is to his subjects is what the soul is to the body. Through imitating Nero’s voice, Seneca guides Nero to recognize himself in his subjects, beginning with Seneca himself, through encouraging him to identify Seneca’s words as his own. In the Natural Questions, Seneca describes his ideal philosopher who recognizes himself within nature as a whole based on the immanence of god, a part of which is his own soul. Seneca adduces the deviant Hostius Quadra as an anti-type of this philosopher. Hostius sees himself everywhere because he has surrounded himself with mirrors that present distorted images of his body and those of his sexual partners. Rather than recognizing himself everywhere based on the expansive nature of the Stoic soul, he sees himself everywhere through the distorted mirrors that reflect only bodies. The fourth chapter argues that several of Seneca’s speeches in the consolatory works depart from the roots of the genre in the social practice of dissuading specific individuals from grief. Although some scholars have suggested that Seneca’s consolations are largely representative of the genre, in part because he tailored each for the circumstances of each addressee, I argue that Seneca in fact departs from the conventions of the genre through the fluidity of the personae of his texts. Personae and voices blend together in ways that suggest a consolation given for one might be suitable for another or for all alike. Through the slippery relationship between personae and their voices, Seneca underscores human aequalitas in the face of death. The fifth chapter demonstrates that a series of speeches in the Epistles and Demaratus’s speech in De Beneficiis dissolve historical distinctions. In essence, this chapter argues that the 19 part-to-whole relationships sketched above between the individual soul and ratio as a whole can be conceived in temporal terms as well. Divine ratio is present not only in all places, but also in all times. Seneca seems to imply that if one’s individual soul is in harmony with ratio as a whole, he or she will speak the same words regardless of his or her moment in history. By the same token, Seneca frequently claims that the only moment available for experience is the present, a position reflected in the condensation of historical moments within his texts. In a certain sense, all the personae of Seneca’s texts speak at the same time, the present moment, which is the same moment in which we ourselves read his texts, even as they say the same words across historical epochs. 20 Chapter 1: God and Luxury Introduction Although Seneca habitually claims that consistency, i.e. virtue, is the only good, consistency in his prose sometimes seems elusive. Just as many scholars have cast Seneca as an opportunistic hypocrite who used philosophy to manage his public persona as a rigorous Stoic, whose exaggeratedly rhetorical style obscures the logical coherence underpinning his works. Both understandings of Seneca depend upon a notion of consistency rooted in logic. 34 Given that Seneca typically treats logic as, at best, a useful tool, it is possible that his understanding of consistency might have been different from what contemporary scholars might expect. Analysis of the speeches of god and Cato in De Providentia (written sometime between 37-65 CE, most likely between 62-65 CE), the speech of Attalus concluding the 110 th Epistle (dated to 62-65 CE), Demetrius’s speeches in the final book of De Beneficiis (dated to 56-64 CE), and the speeches of Socrates and the sage in De Vita Beata (written between 54-59 CE, probably 58 CE) reveals that the rhetorical design of his works, specifically his use of other voices, can be understood as the primary vehicle of Senecan consistency as opposed to the logical coherence of his explicit claims. In De Providentia, Epistle 110, and De Beneficiis, Seneca gives speeches in persona denouncing wealth. God, Attalus, and Demetrius each give descriptions of luxury goods, specifically mentioning gold and silver, though they claim that these so-called “goods” are hollow and specious. All three speakers exhort their audiences towards virtue, the only good, which is achievable in any circumstance regardless of their possessions. They emphatically reject material possessions and strongly criticize those whose happiness depends upon them. Though 34 On logic in Senecan prose, see Wildberger 2006a. 21 he typically embraces the ethics of the Stoic Aristo, who rejected the theory of preferred indifferents, namely that certain things which are morally indifferent (like wealth, health, political success, etc.) are worth pursuing unless they impinge on one’s virtue, in De Vita Beata, Seneca reverses position, claiming that even the sage will prefer wealth, health, etc., all things being equal. Seneca, in his own authorial voice and the other voices of De Vita Beata, contradicts the position towards wealth he expresses in his own and other voices in De Providentia, Epistle 110, and De Beneficiis. Logical coherence is nowhere to be found. Were Seneca to assume other voices to express views not his own, one might naturally not expect logical coherence; however, these speakers to varying degrees, all echo Seneca’s own claims within each text. In spite of the logical contradictions between De Vita Beata and the other three works, Seneca implies that each of the speeches mentioned above is an imitation of god as he describes him within each text. He describes god’s self-sufficiency as a moral paradigm for humankind. For Seneca, to imitate god is to agree with him and therefore harmonize with/perfectly participate in the rational unfolding of causes that is fate. The speeches in all four works can be read as modeling this harmony through imitation. Even when advocating for contradictory positions, Seneca’s rhetorical techniques in similar ways across texts evoke the harmony at the root of his Stoic religious ideal. It is worth noting that the Stoics, like other schools of philosophy, believed linguistic capacity evidenced the rational nature of humans. Diogenes Laertius distinguishes human and animal utterance when he writes (7.55), ζῴου µέν ἐστι φωνὴ ἀὴρ ὑπὸ ὁρµῆς πεπληγµένος, ἀνθρώπου δ’ ἔστιν ἔναρθρος καὶ ἀπὸ διανοίας ἐκπεµποµένη. 22 The utterance of an animal is air that has been struck by impulse; that of a man is articulate and sent forth from thought. Long notes (1999: 571), For the Stoics, as for many philosophers, the decisive mark of mind is rationality as manifested in linguistic capacity. They were the only Greek philosophers who specified voice as a distinct part of the psuche. Seneca’s speeches should be understood in light of the Stoic associations between speech and rationality and the connection that the Stoics drew between the voice and the soul (a fragment of the rational pneuma). The harmony between Seneca’s voice and the voices he imitates in the aforementioned works evokes the immanence of the divine pneuma/logos within their words. At the same time, god’s self-sufficiency and completeness provide a model for moral behavior for humankind. In spite of the contradictory positions he takes up, each of the speeches can be read as communicating Seneca and the speaker’s imitation of and agreement with the Stoic god. 1.A. The Voice of God in De Providentia Seneca states explicitly the aim of De Providentia early in the text. He writes (Prov. 1.5), In gratiam te reducam cum dis aduersus optimos optimis. Neque enim rerum natura patitur ut umquam bona bonis noceant; inter bonos uiros ac deos amicitia est conciliante uirtute. Amicitiam dico? immo etiam necessitudo et similitudo, quoniam quidem bonus tempore tantum a deo differt, discipulus eius aemulatorque et uera progenies, quam parens ille magnificus, uirtutum non lenis exactor, sicut seueri patres, durius educat. I will draw you back into favor with the gods, who are the best to the best men. The nature of things never allows good things to harm good people. The friendship between good men and gods comes about through unifying virtue. Did I say friendship? Actually, it is more an affinity and similarity, since in fact a good man differs from god only with respect to time; he is his student, his imitator and true offspring, which that magnificent parent rather harshly rears, given that he, like stern fathers, is not a gentle extractor of virtues. Throughout the text, Seneca guides Lucilius to interpret the merely apparently bad things that happen as tests of one’s virtue given by a providential god. Seneca’s goal throughout is to draw 23 Lucilius back into favor with the gods through teaching him how to interpret misfortune and to assent willingly to fate. Note that Seneca claims that there is not only a friendship, but an affinity (necessitudo) and similarity (similitudo): he describes the good man as his imitator (aemulator). He later notes that god and the wise man share the same purpose (propositum), namely to show that what the crowd desires and fears is neither good nor bad, and that the same irrevocable course carries along humanity and divinity alike (humana pariter ac diuina). 35 Through imitating god’s words in prosopopoeia, Seneca can be understood to be illustrating the similarity of the good man with god, which he describes in Prov. 1.5. Cato’s speech might be considered a similar imitation: his words harmonize with those of god and nature, he anticipates god’s injunctions, and shows a similar disregard for externals, particularly his own life. The harmony between the voices of Seneca’s various personae can be read as evoking the unifying virtue (conciliante uirtute) that he describes. Seneca teaches Lucilius to imitate god in part through his speeches in god’s voice, one of indeterminate length occurring relatively early in the text and the other placed emphatically at its conclusion. The first thoroughly dissolves Seneca’s authorial voice with god’s. Seneca compares the virtuous with athletes, who need to strengthen themselves through training (Prov. 2.3-4); the good man considers misfortune opportunities to practice virtue. He cites the difference between fatherly and motherly love; fathers enjoin hardships for their children while mothers coddle them (Prov. 2.5). Seneca then imitates the speech of god (Prov. 2.6), Patrium deus habet aduersus bonos uiros animum et illos fortiter amat et ‘operibus’ inquit ‘doloribus damnis exagitentur, ut uerum colligant robur.’ Languent per inertiam saginata nec labore tantum sed motu et ipso sui onere deficiunt. Non fert ullum ictum inlaesa 35 Prov. 5.1: Hoc est propositum deo quod sapienti uiro, ostendere haec quae uulgus adpetit, quae reformidat, nec bona esse nec mala. Prov. 5.8: Inreuocabilis humana pariter ac diuina cursus uehit. 24 felicitas; at cui adsidua fuit cum incommodis suis rixa, callum per iniurias duxit nec ulli malo cedit, sed etiam si cecidit de genu pugnat. God has towards good men the intention of fathers and he loves them vigorously and says, “Let them be roused by labors, causes of anguish, and losses in order to gather true strength.” Fattened, they become enfeebled through idleness and they falter not only on account of labor, but also motion and even their own weight. Their unscathed happiness cannot endure a single blow; but he who has endured an unyielding struggle with his misfortunes, has toughened his hide through injuries, and does not yield to any evil; even if he has fallen, he fights on his knees. Seneca asks if Lucilius is surprised that god, who is most loving towards men and wants them to be the best that they can be, assigns misfortune to them (Prov. 2.7). Seneca’s question in Prov. 2.7 seems to mark unambiguously the end of god’s speech. Basore 1928: 210, Reynolds, and Ker 2014: 284, in his translation, put only Operibus through robur in quotation marks. Though this punctuation is plausible, there is no reason to reject the possibility that god continues to speak. It is perhaps no coincidence that the first statement ends with god noting that misfortunes breed true strength (uerum… robur). Seneca in blending his words with god’s underscores the source of strength in conforming one’s will to god’s will. Seneca is perhaps emphasizing that the harmony between their logoi is the source of strength and endurance for the virtuous. Seneca/god justify suffering, which if well endured, leads one to the union with god through unifying virtue (conciliante uirtute, 1.5), a condition which Seneca suggests through harmonizing his voice and his fata with god’s. 36 God speaks again at the end of the text: his words carry De Providentia to its abrupt, though climactic end. 37 In Prov. 6.1, Seneca explicitly claims that god does not allow bad things to happen to good people. After noting that good men on rare occasions desire “bad things” (like the death of their sons, exile, and suicide), Seneca asks, “Why do they (good men) endure certain 36 He notes that god wrote and follows fata in Prov. 5.8: ille omnium conditor et rector scripsit quidem fata, sed sequitur; semper paret, semel iussit. 37 Smith 2014: 119 makes an entirely convincing case that the text is complete. 25 difficulties?” to which he answers, “In order to teach others to endure; they are born to be a model” (nati sunt in exemplar, Prov. 6.3). Pivoting, Seneca immediately beckons Lucilius to imagine god addressing him (Puta itaque deum dicere). Earlier Seneca wrote that there was an affinity and similarity (necessitudo et similitudo, Prov. 1.5) between god and man, something more than friendship. Seneca’s imitation illustrates this affinity and similarity. God opens his speech by asking, “What are you able to complain to me about, you to whom correct actions commend themselves?” (‘quid habetis quod de me queri possitis, uos quibus recta placuerunt?’, Prov. 6.3). Seneca emphasizes the harmony between his authorial voice and the voice of god intratextually: he had adduced Lucilius’s complaint (quereris) as the prompt for his composition of the text (Prov. 1.4). God, like Seneca, addresses Lucilius’s (and perhaps our) complaint. Note also that god uses the plural second person, as Seneca had done in Prov. 4.6. 38 It is possible that in both passages, Seneca (or perhaps a scribe copying the text) has simply mistakenly used the plural instead of the singular. Read straightforwardly, the text suggests that Seneca intended it for a wider audience than his addressee. However, the mistake (if it is one) can also be read as evoking the fate shared by men and gods in death. A little before god’s second speech begins, Seneca claims that he is under no compulsion (Nihil cogor), suffers nothing unwillingly (nihil patior inuitus) and does not serve god, but rather gives his assent (assentior) since all things proceed according to a law fixed and decreed for eternity (certa et in aeternum dicta lege) and that the fates guide us (Fata nos ducunt, Prov. 5.6). After describing the Stoic notion of fate as a series of interconnected causes, he notes that although the life of individuals may seem to be distinguished by great variety (magna uideatur uarietate singulorum uita distingui), the total comes to a single point (summa in unum 38 Nolite, obsecro uos, expavescere ista, quae dii immortales uelut stimulos admouent animis: calamitas uirtutis occasio est. 26 uenit, Prov. 5.7). He writes that the same irrevocable course carries along humanity and divinity alike (Inrevocabilis humana pariter ac diuina cursus uehit, Prov. 5.8) and that certain things cohere and are indivisible (cohaerent, indiuidua sunt, Prov. 5.9). Seneca’s use of the second person plural can be read as informed by the coherence he describes. If it is true that the irrevocable course of fate carries humankind to the same end, his use of the second person plural is entirely appropriate. Seneca’s broader readership is united with Lucilius through being subject to the same eternal law/fate/god. While all may or may not have the complaints that Lucilius and god’s addressees have, god’s words have bearing on all mortals insofar as fate carries them to the same end. After asking what his audience can complain about, god explains that he has surrounded others with false goods (‘Aliis bona falsa circumdedi’) and deceived their foolish minds (‘animos inanes… lusi’) as if by a long, deceptive dream (‘uelut longo fallacique somnio’, Prov. 6.3). He claims that though he has furnished them with gold, silver, and ivory (Auro… argento… ebore), there is no good within (‘intus boni nihil est’, Prov. 6.3). While men who possess such goods might seem fortunate, their happiness is similar to the veneers of their homes (‘ad similitudinem parietum suorum extrinsecus culti’). He adds that indeed that happiness is a thin veneer (‘felicitas… crusta est et quidem tenuis’). Their happiness is as fragile as the material goods upon which it rests. God explains that these goods shine (nitent) and deceive (imponunt). Their squalor is apparent only when something happens to disturb (disturbet) and uncover (detegat) it (Prov. 6.4). God goes on to characterize the goods he has given Lucilius, which are certain, enduring, better, and greater (bona certa, mansura… meliora maioraque) the more someone has turned them over (uersauit) and inspected them on all sides (undique inspexerit). God concludes his account of the deceptiveness of wealth, writing (Prov. 6.5), 27 ‘non fulgetis extrinsecus, bona uestra introrsus obuersa sunt. Sic mundus exteriora contempsit spectaculo sui laetus. Intus omne posui bonum.’ “you do not shine outwardly, your goods are turned inward. In the same way, the world has scorned externals, delighting in the spectacle of itself. I have placed every good within.” Assuming the voice of god, Seneca disabuses Lucilius of the notion that material goods, like gold, silver, and ivory, are goods at all. He teaches him that every good is invisible since it lies within one’s soul. He encourages him not to look to material possessions for his happiness. Since this good is within, humans have no need to look to anything outside themselves for their happiness; their soul is enough. In its self-sufficiency, the world provides a moral model for humankind. Seneca-qua-god-qua-Lucilius then interjects that many things happen, which are sorrowful, dreadful, and difficult to tolerate (‘“At multa incidunt tristia hoerrenda, dura toleratu”’, Prov. 6.6). God plays his own opponent just as Seneca does. Assuming his own voice, god rejoins that since he could not withdraw (subducere) men from those things, he prepared their souls against every form of adversity (‘animos uestros adversus omnia armaui’). God explains, “In this respect, you may outstrip god; he is exempt from enduring evil things, you are above the endurance of evils” (‘Hoc est quo deum antecedatis: ille extra patientiam malorum est, uos supra patientiam’, Prov. 6.6). It would seem possible that Seneca has resumed speaking were it not for the fact that god then describes the gifts he has given to humankind using the first person; god’s words accord with Seneca’s. Seneca makes similar claims regarding overcoming misfortune in his own voice throughout the text. 39 God goes on to enjoin his addressees to scorn pain, grief, death, and fortune (‘Contemnite paupertatem… Contemnite dolorem… Contemnite mortem… Contemnite fortunam’’, Prov. 6.6). His exhortations reflect Seneca’s position that “bad 39 E.g. Prov. 2.1: Nihil accidere bono uiro mali potest. 28 things” are not bad at all: they are tests of one’s virtue and can be turned into goods. 40 These so- called evils ought to be scorned or disregarded. God takes care to note that should he not wish to fight, he may flee (i.e. commit suicide) (‘Si pugnare non uultis, licet fugere’). The way out is open (patet exitus). He claims nothing is easier than dying (nihil feci facilius quam mori, Prov. 6.7). He enjoins, “Let every time (omne tempus), every place (omnis locus) teach you how easy it is to renounce nature and to thrust away her gift (munus).” Lucilius can either scorn the goods and evils offered by fortune or kill himself thereby removing himself from her grasp. God beckons his addressees to learn death (mortem condiscite), even while hoping for life (dum optatur uita), in the midst of the altars and the solemn rites of sacrifice (inter ipsa altaria et sollemnes sacrificantium ritus, Prov. 6.8). He then gives a luxuriously violent description of death upon the altar. God describes how death is always close (in proximo mors est). He writes that breath does not lie deep within (Non in alto latet spiritus) nor certainly does it need to be rooted out with a blade (nec utique ferro eruendus est); the vital organs do not need to be probed with a deeply penetrating wound (non sunt uulnere penitus inpresso scrutanda praecordia). He emphatically says, “I have not determined a place for these things; wherever you wish, the way is open” (‘Non certum ad hos ictus destinaui locum: quacumque uis peruium est’). A sentence later, god lists various ways in which one might commit suicide: he notes the end is swift (properat), whether by strangulation, drowning, falling on one’s head, or a flame that cuts of the passage of the breath (haustus ignis cursum animae remeantis interscidit, Prov. 6.9). None of these things are worse than gold, silver, or ivory. The means through which one reaches the common end may be different for different people, but the 40 E.g. Prov. 3.1: Sed iam procedente oratione ostendam quam non sint quae uidentur mala. Cf. Prov. 3.2. Seneca writes of the good man’s ability to turn evils into goods, Manet in statu et quicquid euenit in suum colorem trahit, Prov. 2.1. 29 end is the same. Associating the end of the speech and the end of the text with the commune fatum of death, Seneca writes in god’s voice, “What you have been fearing for a long time comes so quickly!” (‘Quod tam cito fit timetis diu!’, Prov. 6.9). Seneca implies that life ends as abruptly as the text and speech. Cato, like Seneca, can be considered god’s aemulator in De Providentia. After comparing Cato to a gladiator, Seneca gives a speech in Cato’s voice (Prov. 2.10): “Although,” he said, “everything (omnia) has passed under sway of one man (in unius dicionem concesserint), the lands are guarded by his legions, the seas by his fleets, and Caesar’s soldiers occupy the gates, Cato has a means of escape (Cato qua exeat habet): with one hand, he will make a broad path to freedom (una manu latam libertati uiam faciet).” Cato then describes how his sword, which even in civil war remained free from defilement and innocent, will finally carry out (edet) good and noble deeds (operas). 41 He exhorts himself: “My soul, attempt the deed, which you have rehearsed for a long time now; snatch yourself from human affairs” (“Aggredere, anime, diu meditatum opus, eripe te rebus humanis”, Prov. 2.10). He alludes to the fact that Petreius and Juba had already fought one another (concurrent) and lie dead by one another’s hand. He differentiates his role from theirs, claiming (Prov. 2.10), “Their death pact was brave and excellent (Fortis et egregia fati conuentio), but it is not fitting for my greatness (deceat magnitudinem nostram); for it is as disgraceful for Cato to seek death from another as to seek life.” In sum, Seneca holds up Cato as an exemplar for bravely exercising his agency even in the most difficult circumstances, showing his indifference towards his own life. Cato refers to himself in the third person in ways that show his Stoic indifference. Seneca might 41 Cf. Prov. 5.1: “Adice nunc quod pro omnibus est optimum quemque, ut ita dicam, militare et edere operas.” The connotation of Cato’s terminology (edet, opera) connects the immortal glory he earns through his self-liberation to its repetition and dissemination in published works, including Seneca’s text. It is also worth pointing out that editio is the term used for sponsoring gladiatorial combats, recalling god’s assignation of evils to good men. 30 be implying that he describes himself and his conditions with the same detachment towards himself as a third party might have, perhaps even Seneca himself or the reader of Seneca’s text. However, Cato’s use of the third person in Cato’s speech might also be hinting at the virtue unifying god and man through assimilating his perspective to god’s. Before giving Cato’s speech, Seneca notes that god is most loving towards those who are good (bonorum) and that he is not surprised if the gods take pleasure in viewing (spectandi) great men wrestling (conluctantis) with some misfortune (Prov. 2.7). He compares their pleasure to the pleasure (uoluptati) that men derive from watching a young man with a resolute spirit (constantis animi) should he meet an onrushing wild animal with his spear or fearlessly (interritus) endure the attack of a lion. Seneca makes several other comparisons between fighters of various stripes (soldiers, gladiators, athletes) and the virtuous elsewhere in the text. 42 He notes that the more nobly (honestior) the young man does this, the more pleasing (gratius) the spectacle (spectaculum). Seneca explains that these earthly spectacles, however, are childish amusements, which are not able to attract the attention of the gods (Prov. 2.8). He exclaims (Prov. 2.9), Behold (ecce), a worthy spectacle (spectaculum), which god may regard as he attends to his work, behold (ecce) a spectacle worthy of a god (par deo): a brave man untroubled (compositus) by bad fortune, who even summons it without qualification. Seneca introduces Cato, writing that he does not see (uideo) what Jupiter might consider more glorious (pulchrius) than to see (spectet) Cato standing upright (rectum) amidst the ruin of the Republic. Note the visual emphasis of Seneca’s descriptions (spectandi… spectaculum… Ecce 42 Seneca claims that a good man will count every adversity as training (Omnia aduersa exercitationes putat, Prov. 2.2). He compares the virtuous to athletes (athletas) who battle against the strongest men in order to prepare for a contest. He also compares fortune to a gladiator, who deems the virtuous worthy opponents (Prov. 3.4). In Prov. 4.4, he says that great men and soldiers alike will rejoice in the face of adversity. It should be noted that comparisons between the virtuous and fighters (wrestlers, gladiators, soldiers, etc.) are hardly unique in Seneca’s oeuvre. Cf. Armisen-Marchetti 1989: 228, 232, 332. 31 (2x)… spectaculum (2x)… uideo… pulchrius… spectet). He emphasizes the delight and pleasure of god(s) in witnessing such men exercising their virtue. In having Cato refer to himself in the third person, Seneca might be suggesting that Cato and his audience of gods share the same perspective. One might also note a similarity between Cato’s detached self-regard and the world, which scorns externals, rejoicing in itself as a spectacle (Sic mundus exteriora contempsit spectaculo sui laetus, Prov. 6.5) or the god-given goods, which, in contrast with material goods, are certain, enduring, better, and greater (bona certa, mansura… meliora maioraque) the more someone has turned them over (uersauit) and inspected them on all sides (undique inspexerit, Prov. 6.5). Cato’s goods are multifaceted and can be appreciated from different perspectives (Seneca’s, god’s, Cato’s, possibly ours as readers) at the same time. Seneca concludes the speech noting again the pleasure that the gods took in the performance. He writes, “It is clear to me that the gods watched with great joy” (Liquet mihi cum magno spectasse gaudio deos). 43 He again highlights the spectacular nature of Cato’s death (Liquet… spectasse), this time presenting it as a sacrifice. He knows the fact that he was born to be an example to teach others to endure suffering. While the gods watched, Cato took care of others’ safety as they fled, he fixed the sword into his sacred breast (gladium sacro pectori), “splayed his guts” 44 (uiscera spargit), and drew out (educit) with his hand his most sacrosanct (sanctissimam) soul, which was unworthy to by contaminated by any blade (Prov. 2.11). The words sacro and sanctissimam suggest that Cato is giving himself over to the gods, i.e. sacrificing himself. Cato’s suicide suggests that he follows god’s exhortations, which conclude the text. The splaying of the guts perhaps evokes a sacrificial animal dying upon an altar. It is 43 Seneca’s first word after Cato’s speech sounds almost identical to the first word of Cato’s speech (Licet vs. Liquet). 44 Following Ker’s translation (2014: 285). Lucretius uses the same word to describe the splattering of blood in a sacrificial scene (5.1202). 32 perhaps no coincidence that Seneca had used the same verb (educat) earlier to describe the fact that the gods, like stern parents, rear the virtuous man rather harshly (durius, Prov. 1.5). Cato’s virtuous suicide shows his adherence to god’s pronouncements and the language in which Seneca describes it recalls the gods’ own treatment of the virtuous. Finally, it is worth pointing out that Cato echoes the words of both god and nature. In claiming that he has a way out (qua exeat habet) and will make a broad path to freedom (latam libertati uiam faciet), Cato expresses a sentiment similar to god’s (quacumque uis peruium est, Prov. 6.9). A little after Cato’s speech, Seneca gives another speech anonymously, presumably in the voice of nature. She claims, “The enmity of the powerful is difficult to bear” (“Inimicitiae potentium graues sunt”, Prov. 3.14). While it is arguable whether or not Cato would admit that the enmity of the powerful is difficult to bear, the speaker speaks about Cato from the same, detached, third person perspective that Cato speaks about himself: She enjoins, “Let him (Cato) face off at the same time against Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus” (opponatur simul Pompeio, Caesari, Crasso). This statement would have fit Cato’s defiant voice perfectly. She exhorts Cato in the same way that Cato exhorts himself. 45 She says (Prov. 3.14), “It is hard to lay hands on oneself (Graue est manus sibi adferre): let him do it (faciat). What aim do I pursue through these things? That all may know that these things for which I have deemed Cato worthy are not bad (ut omnes sciant non esse haec mala quibus ego dignum Catonem putaui).” Cato had exhorted himself to commit suicide, something he had long rehearsed (diu meditatum opus), presumably because it is difficult (grave), as nature notes. He had explained that he will make a broad path to freedom with one hand (una manu latam libertati uiam faciet, Prov. 2.10). 45 One might also compare these speeches with Rutilius’s brief speech in Prov. 3.7. Rutilius also uses hortatory subjunctives to reflect the congruence between his own will and fated events, when he enjoins the Romans to witness Sulla’s proscriptions (“Viderint… Videant… uideant”). In a certain sense, he wills history to transpire in just the way it did, reflecting his willing acceptance of fate. 33 Cato seems to have deemed himself worthy of just the challenges which nature has enjoined for him. Seneca’s didactic aim with respect to Cato’s speech is presumably the same as this one, namely to show that the things which Cato endured are not evils (mala). Seneca also seems to adumbrate his harmony with nature when he explains that good men endure misfortune in order to be examples for others. 46 Seneca, Cato, and nature speak similar words and betray the same didactic intention. Both of god’s speeches in De Providentia can be understood as exemplifying the union between god and man through virtue, most straightforwardly by Seneca’s assumption of the role of the good man, god’s imitator (aemulator), a role which Cato also assumes in De Providentia. In god’s first speech, Seneca dissolves god’s voice into his own as if to model virtue, the harmony of the individual logos with divine logos as a whole. God begins the second speech by echoing Seneca’s words from the beginning of the text. He role-plays as his own objector in ways that cannot fail to recall Seneca’s own similar role-playing. He picks up on the themes Seneca considers throughout. Seneca himself can be read as evoking his agreement with god and fate through giving voice to god’s fata, his speech. He describes suicide as a quick and easy liberation from fortune in ways that evoke Cato’s suicide from earlier in the text. Cato as well might be considered god’s aemulator in his detached self-regard, his anticipation of god’s exhortation to suicide, and the verbal echoes of his speech with those of god and nature. Cato adheres to god’s injunction to scorn fortune and follows his exhortation to suicide. Seneca and Cato both imitate god’s independence from externals and his self-sufficiency, even as the harmony between voices of the text evokes the virtue that unifies god and man. 1.B. Nature’s Declaration: The Speech of Attalus in Ep. 110 46 Quare quadam dura patiuntur? Ut alios pati doceant; nati sunt in exemplar, Prov. 6.2-3. 34 Seneca denounces luxury and imitates god in his speech in the voice of Attalus in Epistle 110 as well. 47 The speech of Attalus concluding Epistle 110 features meditations on fortune’s false gifts that are strikingly similar to those of god in De Providentia. The letter begins with a consideration of the question of whether or not each person has a god as a paedagogus, i.e. a Juno or Genius (Ep. 110.1). Seneca seems to raise this question only to deny its relevance. He notes that regardless of fortune’s role or the existence of individual, guardian deities, we are essentially responsible for our happiness, given our response to misfortune. Specifically, he claims that the gods favor (fauentes) one who has won himself or herself over (sibi se propitiauit, Ep. 110.1). He notes that there is no wish more grievous (gravius) than that someone stays angry (se habeat iratum, Ep. 110.2). He corrects common misnomers, noting that often the cause and beginning of happiness is called a calamity. 48 He explains that even those things that we welcome can lead to a high precipice from which we might later fall. For this reason, he recommends maintaining a Stoic attitude, moderating both joy and fear and discovering and applying to one’s life the underlying principles that structure human and divine affairs (Ep. 110.8-9). Crucial to these endeavors is recognizing the distinction between the only true good, which is virtue, and everything else, the so-called indifferents. Seneca rails against not only luxuries in this letter, but even anything above the most basic necessities and eventually even basic necessities themselves (Ep. 110.11-13). In the end of the letter, he claims that even dependence on barley and water threatens one’s freedom (Ep. 110.20). 47 Seneca alludes to his teacher Attalus frequently in his writings. Typically he notes Attalus’s opinion in the same way that he cites any other intellectual authority. See Ep. 67.14-15 in which he cites Attalus among Epicurus and the Cynic Demetrius. Cf. Ep. 9.7, 63.5, 73.8, 81.22; NQ 2.48.2, 2.50.1. There are only two letters (Epistles 108 and 110) in which Seneca recounts his own firsthand experiences with his instructor. See chapter two for an analysis of Attalus’s speech in Ep. 108. 48 He beckons Lucilius, Adhibe diligentiam tuam et intuere, quid sint res nostrae, non quid uocentur… Quotiens enim felicitatis et causa et initium fuit, quod clamitas uocabatur?, Ep. 110. 35 Seneca’s speech in Attalus’s voice beginning at Ep. 110.14, which lasts almost to the end of the letter in section 20, picks up on many of the same themes. He rails against the seductiveness of preferred indifferents and eventually even the basic essentials of barley and water. Seneca puts forward Attalus as positive exemplar, someone who really is felix rather than someone who merely seems felix to others (Ep. 110.20). Seneca sets Attalus’s hardened, Stoic response against the response typical of the community at large through Attalus’s description and denunciation of an opulent Roman parade. Attalus’s dismissal of the value of wealth and his extreme self-reliance present a positive vision of Stoic virtue rendered more tangible through its location in a historical individual. At the same time, the implied metalepsis, whereby Attalus seems to be addressing simultaneously an admiring crowd and Seneca’s readers testifies the general validity of his advice for multiple audiences both those within and outside the text. The resonances between Attalus’s speech and the body of Seneca’s letter call into question the significance of the distinction between the two personae. Insofar as the words of both Attalus and Seneca accord with god and nature, their individual differences matter little: they possess the same divine reason. The flimsiness of the boundary separating the two figures evokes the boundlessness of the sage’s divine perspective on human and divine affairs, which rises above petty, earthly distinctions and the preferred indifferents both figures scorn. Attalus begins the speech with a catalogue of dazzling riches, which might seduce an onlooker into thinking that preferred indifferents are true goods (Ep. 110.14). “For a long time,” he said, “riches (divitiae) have deceived me (mihi inposuere). I was amazed (Stupebam), when something had shined out (fulserat) from this or that place… But in a particular ceremony (quodam apparatu), I saw all the treasures of the city, works embossed with gold, silver (vidi totas opes urbis, caelata et auro et argento), and even things which surpassed the value of gold and silver (quae pretium auri argentique 36 vicerunt), exquisite hues (exquisitos colores) and garments (vestes) imported from not only beyond our borders, but beyond the border of our enemies; here a band of youths distinguished in elegance and appearance (perspicuos cultu atque forma), here a band of girls, and other things, which the fortune of the greatest empire (summi imperii fortuna), recognizing them as her own possessions (res suas recognoscens), had put on display.” Attalus adduces a sumptuous display of imperial wealth in the form of a parade. Like god in De Providentia, he refers to gold and silver (auro et argento… auri argentique) and their lustre (fulserat), though he also refers to other colors (exquisitos colores). He calls attention to his own act of viewing (vidi) as he brings the image before his audience’s eyes. He notes that such sights used to leave him stunned (stupebam), a feeling, which such an ekphrasis might have provoked also in Seneca’s Roman audience as they imagined the scene. 49 His allusion to the fortune of empire perhaps calls to mind the military or economic conquests that may have led to the presence of such luxury goods within the city. Seneca’s Attalus apparently offers the description only to deny its real value, questioning what purpose such ostentation can have other than to provoke desires already aroused by themselves (inritare cupiditates... per se incitatas). He wonders what purpose the parade might have other than to educate men in desire (ad discendam avaritiam, Ep. 110.15). It is almost as if Attalus implies a comparison between his own speech, which represents absent things as if they were present, and the false riches he describes: both are illusory in their own way. 50 49 On ekphrasis and visuality see Webb 2009. As she points out, contrary to modern definitions of ekphrasis, which denote a verbal description of a work of art, ekphrasis in antiquity meant a “type of speech that worked an immediate impact on the mind of a listener, sparking mental images of the subject it ‘placed before the eyes’” (193). 50 Earlier in the letter, Seneca wrote, Vana sunt ista, quae nos movent, quae attonitos habent (Ep. 110.5) “Those things are empty which move us and keep us stunned.” Though describing objects that arouse fear irrationally, might this claim not also describe Attalus’s speech? Ruth Webb describes the illusory quality of ekphrasis thusly: “The analogy with the visual arts also points towards the fictional nature of the products of ekphrasis and enargeia: like painting, they may have the power to create an illusion of presence, making the listeners feel as if they were in the 37 After noting that some people’s pursuit of wealth takes up their entire lives just so they can show off for a few hours, Attalus provides a model response to the kinds of spectacles he described above. 51 In fact, Seneca presents Attalus as giving a speech within his speech (Ep. 110.17-18): And so I myself say this to myself (Hoc itaque ipse mihi dico), whenever such a thing has dazzled my eyes (praestrinxerit oculos meos), whenever a splendid house happened to meet my gaze (occurrit), or a well-groomed retinue of slaves, or a litter placed on handsome attendants: Why are you lost in wonder? (quid miraris?) Why are you amazed? (quid stupes?)... Rather turn yourself to true wealth (Ad veras potius te converte divitias). Learn to be content with little and nobly and boldly shout out that maxim (illam vocem magnus atque animosus exclama): we have water, we have barley. Let us quarrel with Jove himself about happiness. Let us quarrel, I beg you, even if those things are lacking. Costa points out that the rhetoric of Attalus’s speech is actually more stringent than even the Cynic position (1988: 224). While Seneca elsewhere takes pains to note that even the wise man or a Cynic like Demetrius (e.g. Ep. 20.9-10) will prefer certain indifferents, his rhetoric here is much stricter. Like god in De Providentia, Attalus suggests that in certain respects, humans might even surpass god. Later in the speech in response to an imagined interlocutor, who suggests that it is just as base to make the happy life depend on barley and water as gold and silver, Attalus claims, famem fames finit “hunger ends hunger” (Ep. 110.19): in other words, if we die by hunger, we are no longer hungry. 52 Though Seneca frequently denounces greed and desire, few times does his rhetoric reach quite this scathing pitch. Attalus offers a model for imitation authorized by Seneca’s imitation within the text. Attalus dialogues with himself in the same way that Seneca so often does. In fact, given the presence of their subjects, but this feeling of presence is combined with an awareness of absence” (2009: 194). 51 Vidistine quam intra paucas horas ille ordo quamvis lentus dispositusque transierit? Hoc totam vitam nostram occupabit quod totum diem occupare non potuit? (Ep. 110.16). 52 Following Costa’s explanation (1988: 224). 38 degree to which Attalus’s speech aligns with the rest of the epistle, it almost seems as if Attalus is imitating Seneca as much as Seneca is imitating Attalus. His concern about visual impressions picks up on the theme of vision, which Seneca had already explored earlier in the letter. He writes, “What disturbs us, what keeps us crazed, are hollow things” (vana sunt ista quae nos movent, quae attonitos habent); he decries the fact that no one has sifted out the truth (quid veri esset excussit, Ep. 110.5). He exhorts his audience to direct their eyes (oculos intendere) towards false fears and cites Lucretius who claims that unlike boys who fear everything in gloomy shadows (omnia caecis in tenebris), we fear things in daylight (in luce, Ep. 110.6). 53 Seneca goes further than Lucretius, claiming that we have turned all things into shadows with respect to ourselves (omnia nobis fecimus tenebras) and that we see nothing (Nihil videmus), neither what harms nor what frees us (Ep. 110.7). He notes that if we wish, the light may shine again however (Sed lucescere, si velimus, potest, Ep. 110.8). Seneca claims that the solution lies in acquiring familiarity with human and divine affairs (humanorum divinorumque notitiam), bathing oneself in this knowledge (illa se… perfuderit), letting it stain him (infecerit), and reapplying these principles to one’s life (retractaverit et ad se saepe rettulerit). Crucially, he notes that one must learn which goods and evils have been assigned a false name (quae sint bona, quae mala, quibus hoc falso sit nomen adscriptum, Ep. 110.8). Seneca associates knowledge of the divine, Stoic indifference, and moral discrimination between true goods and evils. Both he and Attalus dismiss the value of gustatory pleasures and precious metals. 54 Seneca and Attalus both seek to disabuse their audience of false impressions, whether they are based in fear, greed, or craving. Indeed 53 Cf. Lucr. 2.55-56. 54 Seneca singles out boars (apros), flamingo tongues (linguas phoenicopterorum), whole animals (tota animalia), and freshly killed food as well as fattened animals (Ep. 110.12-13). He instead recommends grass (herbam) and acorns (cacumina arborum) (Ep. 110.12). Referring to gold and silver, he notes that God buried very deeply within the earth what would harm us (Nocitura altissime pressit, Ep. 110.10). Cf. Ben. 7.10.1-2, Ep. 94.57. 39 Seneca’s ethopoeia in Attalus’s voice can be read as an exercise in the kind of review and reapplication of knowledge of divine and human affairs that he recommends. Seneca toys with the nature of the address in Attalus’s speech. Attalus is addressing an audience in the anecdote (Seneca notes he had won the admiration of all (cum magna admiratione omnium, Ep. 110.14)), though in reproducing his words, Seneca implicitly suggests the suitability of his speech for Lucilius and possibly his broader readership. The multiplicity of Attalus’s addressees (himself, his immediate audience, Lucilius, and other readers of Seneca’s letter), the character of his advice, which could be read as applicable to a wide range of classes (even if directed towards the aristocracy), and the shifting persons and numbers of the verbs (first person singular, second person singular, third person plural) all contribute to the generalizing flavor of the speech, the relevance of which extends beyond the immediate context of the recounted performance. Seneca provides the main point of the speech explicitly at its end and offers a provocative reflection (Ep. 110.20): “However, he upon whom fortune has too little a hold is not free (liber est autem non in quem parum licet fortunae), but rather only he upon whom fortune has no hold (nihil). Therefore, this is the case: you must desire nothing, if you wish to challenge Jupiter, who desires nothing.” Attalus declared these things to us (Haec nobis Attalus dixit), Nature declared these things to all (natura omnibus dixit); if you are willing to ponder these things frequently (quae si voles frequenter cogitare), you will take action in order to become happy (ut sis felix), not to seem happy (non ut videaris), and to seem so to yourself (ut tibi videaris) rather than to others. Farewell. Attalus gives advice similar to god’s. He draws his audience’s attention to the self-sufficiency of god as a paradigm for moral behavior. Seneca imitates Attalus, though both speak in accordance with nature. Inasmuch as they speak in accordance with nature, they match or perhaps even 40 surpass Jupiter. 55 As the Stoic god, Jupiter lacks nothing, because nothing exists outside him. Not desiring anything is a way of emulating at a human scale god’s physical coextension with the entire cosmos, which obviates his desire for anything else. Seneca seems to suggest that the animus of the sapiens is similarly unbounded and shares god’s view of the totality. Seneca had earlier claimed that familiarity with divine and human affairs would dispel the darkness of one’s ignorance if one has not only imbued (perfuderit) himself with it, but also dyed (infecerit) himself with it (Ep. 110.8). In the closely preceding 108 th Epistle, which also features speeches given in Attalus’s voice, Seneca uses a similar metaphor regarding color to describe how one absorbs philosophical instruction: he compares those who attend lectures without paying attention to the subject matter to people who will unintentionally tan (colorabitur) out in the sun (in solem) when they walk outside (Ep. 108.4). It would seem that knowledge of human and divine affairs colors Seneca and Attalus similarly, such that their individual differences fade into the background. These speeches are the declarations given by nature, whether they are given in Seneca or Attalus’s persona, whether they are written in a letter or spoken aloud to a rapt audience. After one has gained all the knowledge required, Seneca notes, “And the instinct of the human mind is not caused to remain within these boundaries” (Nec intra haec humani ingenii sagacitas sistitur). He claims that it is pleasing to look out beyond the universe (prospicere... ultra mundum libet). He decries that, “From this divine view, we have dragged down our enticed minds toward base and lowly matters” (Ab hac divina contemplatione abductum animum in sordida et humilia pertraximus, Ep. 110.9). In contrast with the lofty viewpoint of the wise, the greedy focus on what is literally below, namely the precious metals within the earth, which they 55 Cf. Ep. 18.10, Ep. 25.4, Ep. 119.7. 41 pillage. Seneca and Attalus’s shared perspective is characterized by its boundlessness, which is reflected in how Seneca embeds the speech within the epistle. Perhaps even the similarities to god’s speech in De Providentia and Seneca’s numerous denunciations of wealth in his own voice also evoke the boundless of the sage’s vision; all these great minds speak alike. The similarities between the speech and its context within the letter also call into question the significance of the boundaries of quotation: both speakers, Seneca and Attalus, use the same motifs, share the same preoccupations, and speak in similar styles. Seneca’s parting advice in which he urges the reader to act as his or her own sole, ethical evaluator independent of the evaluation of others also might invite comparison to the Stoic god, who retreats to his own thoughts upon the conflagration of the world or the world delighting in its own spectacle (Sic mundus exteriora contempsit spectaculo sui laetus, Prov. 6.3). 56 Through the framing of the speech, Seneca suggests the boundlessness of the Stoic mind through the intratextual echoes of the text and the assimilation of addressees, underscoring the physical basis of his morality in god’s self-sufficiency and immanence within all things. 1.C. Demetrius’s Hyperbole in De Beneficiis Demetrius’s speeches in De Beneficiis are comparable to those of god and Attalus. Early in De Beneficiis, Seneca explains that the multitude of ingrates ought not deter us from doing favors for others given the fact that they do not deter the gods from their flowing and unceasing generosity (effusa nec cessante benignitate, Ben. 1.1.9). 57 He notes that he who confers benefits imitates the gods (qui dat beneficia, deos imitatur, Ben. 15.4). Seneca explains that the gods 56 Cf. Ep. 9.16: Qualis est Iovis, cum resoluto mundo et dis in unum confusis paulisper cessante natura adquiescit sibi cogitationibus suis traditus. Tale quiddam sapiens facit: in se reconditur, secum est. 57 Compare the persistence of the gods with the persistence to which Seneca exhorts Liberalis: Qualiscumque priorum eventus est, persevera in alios conferre… Ne cessaveris, opus tuum perage et partes boni viri exequere, Ben. 1.2.4. 42 provide all the things of nature that benefit humankind including crops, favorable winds, and springs, without any thought of return (Omnia ista sine mercede, sine ullo ad ipsos perveniente commodo faciunt, Ben. 4.25.2). Why would they have thought of return since they are immanent within the entire world? There is nothing that they do not possess, i.e. there is nothing that they are not within. As he notes a little later (Ben. 4.9.1), plurima beneficia ac maxima in nos deus defert sine spe recipiendi, quoniam nec ille conlato eget nec nos ei quidquam conferre possumus. God gives to us the most and greatest benefits without hope of return, since he has no need of what was bestowed and we are not able to give him anything. While we may be able to offer god our intentions, there is no material that we could offer him. 58 Accordingly, he claims that the nature of the gods makes them fully satisfied, safe, and inviolable (plenosque et tutos et inviolabiles). He notes that if they gave out of self interest, “they would not give so many gifts, which they pour forth day and night without intermission” (di vero tot munera, quae sine intermissione diebus ac noctibus fundunt, non darent, Ben. 4.3.2). 59 It is impossible to add anything to god: he is complete. When we give without thought of return, knowing that our soul is already complete in and of itself, we too give like gods. In doing so, we participate perfectly in the divine efflux of beneficia. Seneca’s claims in the opening of book 4 make this position clear. He notes that there is nothing more shameful than to calculate the wealth of a man, since virtue ought to neither entertain gain nor avoid loss (virtus nec lucro invitet nec absterreat damno). To approach virtue, often we must trample on our own advantage (Calcatis… utilitatibus). He notes that sometimes we cannot pay regard to our own fortune (sine respectu rei familiaris) or even spare our own 58 He notes that no return to the gods can be given save correct and pious intention (recta ac pia voluntate, Ben. 1.6.3). 59 Seneca sarcastically dismisses the notion that the gods give in order to receive mere incense in return (Ben. 4.25.1). 43 blood (sine ulla sanguinis sui parsimonia vadendum, Ben. 4.1.2). In response to the question, “What would I gain if I have done this bravely and gratefully (grate)?” Seneca writes, “You will have done it; nothing more is promised to you” (Quod feceris; nihil tibi extra promittitur, Ben. 4.1.3). Seneca sums up the virtuous nature of the beneficium in the following way (Ben. 4.1.3), Rerum honestarum pretium in ipsis est. Si honestum per se expetendum est, beneficium autem honestum est, non potest alia eius condicio esse, cum eadem natura sit. 60 The reward for honorable things lies in themselves. If an honorable thing is to be sought only for itself, and a benefit is an honorable thing, then its condition cannot be different, since they are of the same nature. A beneficium is an honesta res, a benevola actio. The reward of a benefaction is in the doing; it is immanent in the thing itself. Insofar as a beneficium is a matter of virtue, it requires nothing external. It requires no wealth. It requires only the will to give. Following Stoic orthodoxy, Seneca claims explicitly, “Our goal is to live according to nature and to follow the example of the gods” (Propositum est nobis secundum rerum naturam vivere et deorum exemplum sequi, Ben. 4.25.1). As he explains in the fourth book at some length, these are essentially the same thing because nature is god as well as divine reason interwoven in all its parts (divina ratio toti mundo partibusque eius inserta, Ben. 4.7.1). 61 In fact, Seneca then identifies god as Liber, Hercules, and Mercury: as he explains (Ben. 4.7.2), Quaecumque voles, illi nomina proprie aptabis vim aliquam effectumque caelestium rerum continentia: tot adpellationes eius possunt esse quot munera. Whatever names you wish, you will apply to him properly as long as they hold some force and effect of the heavens: his names can be as numerous as his gifts. 62 60 Cf. Ben. 1.1.12: 61 Ben. 4.5.1-9.1. 62 Cf. L-S 54A. 44 Presumably, the names of god are as numerous as his benefits because god is within all things. The many names of god point towards his immanence within all matter; any word has potentially another referent, namely divine pneuma in a certain disposition. 63 Later he explains (Ben. 4.8.3), Sic nunc naturam voca, fatum, fortunam: omnia eiusdem dei nomina sunt varie utentis sua potestate. Thus call him nature, fate, or fortune; all of these are the names of the same god who uses his power in a variety of ways. 64 Seneca goes on to compare these terms to justice (iustitia), honesty (probitas), prudence (prudentia), courage (fortitudo), and temperance (frugalitas) which are likewise qualities of the same mind, which is of course also still god. As Seneca puts it, “Wherever you turn, you will see him running towards you” (Quocumque te flexeris, ibi illum videbis occurrentem tibi, Ben. 4.8.2). God is identical with his gifts. He can be given nothing because he is already within, and so in a sense possesses, whatever we might give him. Presumably, we emulate gods through the expression of our virtue. Seneca parrots Stoic orthodoxy, noting that virtue is the only good. 65 To be virtuous requires nothing outside ourselves: it is as complete as god himself, whether considered in light of his independence from the passive, inert matter upon which he acts, or his pervasion into all things. In the course of explaining the Stoic paradox that a man who is grateful has already returned a favor, Seneca compares gratitude to the cardinal virtues, which are complete in and of themselves. 66 Gratitude and beneficia like virtue (or perhaps inasmuch as they are expressions of virtue) require no 63 As Struck describes it (2004: 138), “when we designate things like ‘Athena’ or ‘Poseidon’ or ‘horse’ or ‘man,’ we are in reality saying ‘the divine pneuma insofar as it has taken on the quality this term names.’” 64 On the relationship between fate and the speech of Demaratus, see 5.A. 65 Ben. 7.2.2. 66 Ben. 2.31.1: Nam cum omnia ad animum referamus, fecit quisque, quantum voluit; et cum pietas, fides, iustitia, omnis denique virtus intra se perfecta sit, etiam si illi manum exerere non licuit, gratus quoque homo esse potest voluntate. 45 external material. As Seneca notes, the material of a gift is neither good nor bad: only the intention of the giver matters. 67 Insofar as a beneficium is an expression of virtue, it is an action that is to be undertaken only for itself, not for any material gain. 68 For this reason, no one can be outdone in giving benefits if his intention is correct. 69 For the same reason, it is easy to return a benefit even in the midst of poverty, since it does not depend on fortune; after all, we make return to the gods even though there is nothing that they do not already possess. 70 From a Stoic perspective, it might be scandalous to insist too firmly that a beneficium required some kind of external material, since it would then make it dependent on fortune, not virtue. 71 As one might expect, Seneca claims that the Stoic sage does not require any good fortune to bestow beneficia. He explains that all things belong to the sage in Ben. 7.4-11. He adduces all 67 Ben. 1.6.1: Itaque non, quid fiat aut quid detur, refert, sed qua mente, quia beneficium non in eo, quod fit aut datur, consistit, sed in ipso dantis aut facientis animo. 68 Ben. 4.1.3. Cf. Ben. 4.9.3: Honestum propter nullam aliam causam quam propter ipsum sequimur. Cf. Ben. 4.3.1: beneficium… dare virtutis est et turpissimum id causa ullius alterius rei dare, quam ut datum sit… Non est beneficium, quod ad fortunam spectat. Cf. Ben. 4.13.3: Beneficium eius commodum spectat, cui praestatur, non nostrum. Cf. Ben. 4.22.2-4. 69 Ben. 5.4.1: Ergo nemo vinci potest beneficiis, si scit debere, si vult referre, si, quem rebus non potest, animo aequat. Hic quam diu in hoc permanet, quam diu tenet voluntatem gratum animum signis adprobandi, quid interest, ab utra parte munuscula plura numerentur? 70 Ben. 2.30.2: Quicumque ergo gratos esse docet, et hominum causam agit et deorum, quibus nullius rei indigentibus, positis extra desiderium, referre nihilo minus gratiam possumus. Non est, quod quisquam excusationem mentis ingratae ab infirmitate atque inopia petat et dicat: ‘Quid enim faciam et quomodo? quando superioribus dominisque rerum omnium gratiam referam?’ Referre facile est, si avarus es, sine inpendio, si iners, 〈sine〉 opera. Eodem quidem momento, quo obligatus es, si vis, cum quolibet paria fecisti, quoniam, qui libenter beneficium accipit, reddidit. 71 Seneca associates the acquisition of wealth and material goods with fortune. He writes, procurator es. Omnia ista, quae vos tumidos et supra humana elatos oblivisci cogunt vestrae fragilitatis, quae ferreis claustris custoditis armati, quae ex alieno sanguine rapta vestro defenditis, propter quae classes cruentaturas maria deducitis, propter quae quassatis urbes ignari, quantum telorum in aversos fortuna conparet, propter quae ruptis totiens adfinitatis, amicitiae, conlegii foederibus inter contendentes duos terrarum orbis elisus est, non sunt vestra; in depositi causa sunt iam iamque ad alium dominum spectantia; aut hostis illa aut hostilis animi successor invadet, Ben. 6.3.2. 46 kinds of ways in which, by differing standards, one can own something yet nonetheless be given it. He compares sages with kings, who possess entire kingdoms, yet can be given things by the kingdom’s inhabitants, as well as masters who receive gifts from their slaves, cities who own the land of individual citizens, authors who receive copies of their own books, and most importantly the gods, who can receive gifts, even if there is no place that exists without them. 72 It is important to point out, however, that the dominion of the sapiens is so great that it subsumes the possessions of king, master, cities, and authors. As Seneca explains (Ben. 7.4.6): Omnia deorum sunt; tamen et dis donum posuimus et stipem iecimus. Non ideo, quod habeo, meum non est, si meum tuum est; potest enim idem meum esse et tuum. All things belong to the gods; nevertheless we have given gifts to the gods and cast offerings to them. Therefore, it is not the case that what I have is not mine, if what is mine is also yours; indeed the same thing can be both mine and yours. 73 The gods are everywhere and all things belong to them, yet we can still give them gifts. Seneca implies that the wise man’s mind conforms to the mind of god, such that he, like god, possesses all things. 74 God’s immanence plays a role in shaping both the content and framing of Demetrius’s speeches later in the book. In the openings of the final three books of De Beneficiis, Seneca apologizes for superfluity; he claims that the quasi-casuistical exercises that fill these latter books might provide some benefit, though strictly speaking they are unnecessary (Ben. 5.1.1-2, 6.1.1, 7.1.1-2). Seneca introduces Demetrius at least in part to correct course: where Seneca, in his longest work, treats question after question, Demetrius makes his point succinctly and 72 Seneca again compares authors and gods in Ben. 4.8.3, when he says that calling god “nature,” “fate,” or “fortune” is the same as calling him “Annaeus” or “Lucius.” 73 Griffin 2013 passim excels in discussing Seneca’s use of legal language, including distinctions of various kinds of ownership, throughout the entire treatise. 74 Ben. 7.5.1-2: interim hoc huic quaestioni sat est me id, quod aliter sapientis est, aliter meum est, posse donare sapienti. Nec mirum est aliquid ei, cuius est totum, posse donari. Cf. Ben. 7.6.3: Sic sapiens animo universa possidet, iure ac dominio sua. Cf. Ben. 7.7.3. 47 directly. Before assuming his voice, Seneca notes that Demetrius is a great (magnus) man even among the greatest men (etiam si maximis conparetur). Seneca notes that Demetrius argued that it is far better for us to have a few philosophical precepts (pauca praecepta sapientiae) at the ready rather than to learn many things, but not have them at hand (ad manum, Ben. 7.1.3). After considering at length many different questions, Demetrius reminds the reader of the importance of an apprehension of basic moral precepts. 75 Demetrius opens the speech with a comparison between the philosopher who has mastered a few praecepta and the wrestler who is an expert in just one or two moves rather than all the moves and grips (omnes numeros nexusque, Ben. 7.1.3). Nexus here might connote the very conundrums of gift-exchange, which Seneca had been mulling over for the previous two books. Demetrius, almost as if responding to Seneca’s text, says that in this pursuit there are many moves that delight, few that win (multa delectant, pauca vincunt, Ben. 7.1.4). Demetrius goes on to give a catalogue of different examples of interesting, though unnecessary pieces of scientific learning: he claims it does little harm not to know the causes of the tides, why every seventh year marks a new stage of life, why the columns of a colonnade appear to merge when viewed at a distance, why twins conceived separately are born together, and why the fates of those born under the same circumstances are different. Quoting Democritus (D-K 68 B 117), he notes, “Truth lies hidden in the deep” (Involuta veritas in alto latet, Ben. 7.1.5). This is no cause for complaint, he claims, since nature has made the discovery of nothing difficult, unless its only 75 Cf. Griffin 2013: 321: “Brad Inwood points out to me that the parallel with the more general knowledge that Demetrius thinks unnecessary for the moral agent (1.5) would be, for the wrestler, the principles of physics, such as leverage, and of physiology, such as those that explain why certain moves work well.” 48 benefit is the discovery in and of itself (Ben. 7.1.6). 76 While Seneca might agree with Demetrius’s comparison with the wrestler, the very composition of the Natural Questions and his other scientific works suggests that he, unlike Demetrius, believed that scientific inquiry has an ethical function. 77 While a striking fissure might seem apparent between Demetrius and Seneca’s voices, Seneca in fact offers a potential explanation for Demetrius’s exaggerated rhetoric later in the book. After repeatedly claiming in De Beneficiis that one ought to forget a favor as soon as one has offered it, he provides a qualification (7.23.1-2): Whenever you have too little faith in those whom you command (Quotiens parum fiduciae est in iis), more than enough (amplius… quam sat est) should be demanded so that the sufficient amount (quantum sat est) is offered. Every hyperbole (omnis hyperbole) stretches in this way, so that it comes to truth by way of falsehood (ut ad verum mendacio veniat)… Hyperbole never hopes for as much as it dares (Numquam tantum sperat hyperbole, quantum audet), but it asserts the unbelievable (incredibilia) in order to arrive at the believable (credibilia). It is impossible to forget a favor as soon as one has done it. Though Seneca is specifically addressing that particular exhortation (to forget a favor as soon as you have done it), his claims regarding hyperbole can be read as applying to his highly rhetorical mode of instruction more generally, especially his impersonation of Demetrius. It is hardly coincidental that this account of hyperbolic instruction follows Demetrius’s two hyperbolic speeches. Demetrius’s disdain for science, his refusal to accept any wealth from the gods even if he could give it away, and his claim that only a few praecepta thoroughly mastered are enough, could all be considered part of Seneca’s didactic method, which includes rhetorical exaggeration. 76 Elsewhere Seneca compares knowledge of beneficia to knowledge of geometry and astronomy, subjects upon which it is difficult to maintain one’s grasp (Ben. 3.5.1). 77 On the relationship between ethics and physics in the Natural Questions, see Williams 2012. 49 Demetrius claims that nature has given our souls all that we need. If the soul scorns fortune, rises above fears, abandons greed, gives up fear of the gods, considers death no evil, dedicates itself to virtue, believes that man is a social creature and is born for the common good, believes that the universe is the home of gods and men, opens its conscience to the gods, and lives as truthfully in private as in public, it has perfected useful and necessary knowledge (consummavitque scientiam utilem ac necessariam). Once this has been achieved, remaining considerations are sources of leisurely amusement (Reliqua oblectamenta otii sunt). Once those necessities have been grasped, then one can add those things that cultivate the mind (cultum… ingeniis adferentia) rather than those that add strength (robur, Ben. 7.1.7). Seneca, moving from direct to indirect discourse, goes on to note that Demetrius encourages the one making progress to hold onto these precepts with both hands (utraque manu tenere proficientem iubet), never to release them (haec nusquam dimittere), impress them deeply (immo adfigere), to make them part of himself (partem sui facere), and to lead oneself through daily meditation (cottidiana meditatione perduci) to arrive at the point where these beneficial precepts occur on their own accord (sua sponte). The goal is that they are ready at hand when desired (statim desiderata praesto sint) and that the distinction between what is base and honorable comes without any delay (sine ulla mora, Ben. 7.2.1). Perhaps Seneca is modeling just how one ought to internalize such precepts. Through impersonation and repetition, one can absorb Demetrius’s philosophical precepts and thereby learn to imitate god. Seneca uses a series of hortatory subjunctives to exhort the proficiens. He writes, “Let him recognize that there is nothing bad (malum) except what is base (turpe) and nothing good (bonum) except what is honorable (honestum)” (Ben. 7.2.2). In the Hosius edition, there are no quotation marks. However, we might nonetheless ask the question whether Seneca has 50 reassumed Demetrius’s voice or if he is still speaking in his own persona. On the one hand, there is no obvious indication that he is speaking in Demetrius’s voice, yet he had just been parroting Demetrius’s views in both direct and indirect discourse. Is Seneca continuing to give Demetrius’s views or is he now giving his own? Yet perhaps the fact that the shift between the two voices is hardly marked (if at all) indicates that Demetrius and Seneca’s minds are in accord with one another. This interpretation is strengthened by what Seneca enjoins next. He writes, “Let him divide up (distribuat) his efforts (opera) according to this principle of life (hac regula vitae); in accordance with this law (ad hanc legem), let him both carry out and judge all things (cuncta).” Seneca notes that he ought to judge those who are given over to luxury, wealth, and desire as the most wretched of mortals (miserrimosque mortalium, Ben. 7.2.2). Seneca’s language suggests a comparison between the very composition of the text and the distribution of efforts he describes. When he enjoins the proficiens to divide (distribuat) his efforts (opera) according to this principle of life (hac regula vitae), one can perhaps read Seneca insinuating that one ought to divide up one’s literary works (opera) as well according to this regula vitae. This possible connotation is significant in a passage in which the boundaries separating voices may not be entirely stable. Seneca could perhaps be read as describing his own literary method of illustrating the thoroughgoing consistency characteristic of his conception of virtue through the blending of voices. If one splits up one’s literary compositions according to this regula, this will lead to compositions that have the same fluidity as Seneca’s text, as is suggested by the vanishing difference between his and Demetrius’s voices. Ad hanc legem and hac regula evoke Seneca’s other uses of legal language in the context of gifts 78 : they evoke the underlying law of human 78 E.g. Ben. 1.4.2, 2.18.4, 3.21.1, 4.17.1-2, 5.21.1, 6.8.2-4, 6.27.6. 51 sociality and the natural law suffused throughout the cosmos conveyed in the seminal principles. The word cuncta perhaps evokes the merging and conglomeration of Demetrius and Seneca’s voices. Seneca’s philosophical instruction occurs as much at the implicit level of literary design as at the level of his explicit claims. He might be guiding the soul of the proficiens to recognize the continuity of this regula, this lex, throughout nature and within himself or herself through merging his and Demetrius’s voices and words. In fact, Seneca then beckons this proficiens to join in with Demetrius and Seneca’s voices. He encourages the blending of their logoi when he introduces the next speech, in which he takes over the voice of the proficiens, writing “Let him say to himself” (Dicat sibi ipse, Ben. 7.2.2). It is as if the personae exhibit their underlying harmony with universal reason through the concordance of their words. 79 Seneca-qua-proficiens goes on to give a disquisition full of diatribal commonplaces. He writes that pleasure is fragile (fragilis), transient (brevis), and subject to pride (fastidio obiecta). He describes its volatility, noting that it does not accord with man’s nature, which is nearest to god’s (naturam hominis dis proximi deceat) and that it is servant to the most lowly parts of a man. Seneca, in the voice of the proficiens, castigates luxury in ways that surely Demetrius as well would endorse. He (Seneca and/or the proficiens?) describes in contradistinction that (Stoic) pleasure (Illa… voluptas), which is worthy of a human or a man. That pleasure comes not from filling the body or stirring forms of lust, but rather from the freedom from mental disturbance (perturbatione carere), whether caused by the ambition (ambitus) of men or belief in false stories about the gods that support the notion that they share our vices (vitiisque, Ben. 7.2.3). 80 Hosius does not end the speech before Illa, but there is perhaps 79 See discussion of the sage’s pronouncement of god’s dictum above. 80 ‘Illa est voluptas et homine et viro digna non inplere corpus nec saginare nec cupiditates inritare, quarum tutissima est quies, sed perturbatione carere et ea, quam hominum inter se 52 a case to be made for the addition of quotation marks. It is possible that the proficiens castigates one kind of pleasure, while Seneca clarifies the nature of true, Stoic pleasure. One should perhaps not rule out the possibility that Seneca is implicitly instructing the proficiens to make his logoi conform with those of their auctor, whether considered as the divine logoi or the logoi of Seneca, such they flow together and conform to the common law of life. Hosius does add quotation marks after the sentence beginning with Illa est voluptas… and before the sentence beginning with Hanc voluptatem… (Ben. 7.2.4). His punctuation seems accurate: while Seneca may or may not have been giving the words of the proficiens in the previous sentence, here he shifts towards a description of the proficiens himself. He notes that this man, an expert in divine and human law (divini iuris atque humani peritus) will perceive this pleasure (Hanc voluptatem) as consistent (aequalem), free from anxiety (intrepidum), and untiring (numquam sensuram sui taedium). Seneca enjoins Liberalis not to judge the proficiens as discontent with little (ne… parvo esse contentum) since all things belong to him (omnia illius sunt, Ben. 7.2.5). Demetrius, Seneca, and the proficiens all seem to share the same words as well: in this respect he suggests that their speech, and his text, conform to the lex vitae and divina ratio. 81 rixantium ambitus concutit, et ea quae intolerabilis ex alto venit, ubi de dis famae creditum est vitiisque illos nostris aestimavimus.’ Hanc voluptatem aequalem, intrepidam, numquam sensuram sui taedium percipit hic, quem deformamus quom maxime, ut ita dicam, divini iuris atque humani peritus. Hic praesentibus gaudet, ex futuro non pendet; nihil enim firmi habet, qui in incerta propensus est. Magnis itaque curis exemptus et distorquentibus mentem nihil sperat aut cupit nec se mittit in dubium suo contentus, Ben. 7.2.3-4. 81 In 1.4.2, Seneca writes that a law of life (lex vitae) must be given so that neither unreflective indulgence masquerades under the guise of guise of kindness (benignitas) nor that this observation constrain generosity even as it moderates it. This statement could be read as programmatic of De Beneficiis as a whole: Seneca aims to instruct Liberalis in the art of giving along these very lines. In Ben. 2.18.4, Seneca notes that the sage lays down and follows the law, which is presumably the same as the law of nature. 53 After an extended disquisition on how it is possible that the sage can still receive gifts while possessing all things, Seneca reintroduces Demetrius, whom he classes among Socrates, Chrysippus, Zeno, and other great philosophers of antiquity. He claims that nature brought forth Demetrius as an example of incorruptibility for our time (quem mihi videtur rerum natura nostris tulisse temporibus). He highlights his scrupulous wisdom (exactae…sapientiae), unbending consistency (firmae…constantiae), and eloquence (eloquentiae), which is fitted for the mightiest subjects (res fortissimas deceat). He does not trouble himself with words (non concinnatae nec in verba sollicitae) but rather makes attacks (impetus) with a great spirit upon the subjects he pursues (Ben. 7.8.2). 82 Seneca in fact attributes Demetrius’s eloquence to Providence (providentia), which he claims gave us such a life (talem vitam) and such eloquence (talem dicendi facultatem) so that our age would lack neither a model (exemplum) nor censure (convicium, Ben. 7.8.3). Demetrius, like the gods, is a prime exemplar for Seneca. Given that he goes on to imitate his voice, is Seneca praising Demetrius’s eloquence or his own? Seneca arguably assimilates Demetrius’s authority to his own, highlighting his own incorruptibility, or suggests that providence has given him as much eloquence as it has given Demetrius. In imitating Demetrius, Seneca can be read as illustrating his own virtue. Seneca raises the following question: what would Demetrius do were god to give him all of our wealth on the condition that he not give it away? Seneca claims that he would refuse and claims that he would give the following speech (adfirmaverim repudiaturum dicturumque, Ben. 82 Compare Seneca’s account of Chrysippus’s eloquence with Demetrius’s (Ben. 1.3.8): Chrysippus quoque, penes quem subtile illud acumen est et in imam penetrans veritatem, qui rei agendae causa loquitur et verbis non ultra, quam ad intellectum satis est, utitur, totum librum suum his ineptiis replet, ita ut de ipso officio dandi, accipiendi, reddendi beneficii pauca admodum dicat; nec his fabulas, sed haec fabulis inserit. As Seneca later notes, though a great man, Chrysippus is nevertheless still a Greek (magnum… virum, sed tamen Graecum, Ben. 1.4.1). 54 7.8.3). Seneca has Demetrius refuse the weight (pondus) of such wealth, which would drag him down to the deep dregs of things (in altam faecem rerum). For Demetrius, such a weight would be little more than a burden on the soul. Demetrius calls such wealth the evils of all people (omnium mala). While Seneca elsewhere has even Demetrius claim his preference for certain indifferents, 83 here he takes on an exaggerated, Cynical posture, claiming that he would not even accept all the wealth even if he were to give it away (Quae ne daturus quidem acciperem, Ben. 7.9.1). Presumably, this is because such luxury runs the risk of blinding him to the true good. 84 Demetrius then gives a catalogue of riches similar to those given by god in De Providentia and Attalus in Epistle 110. He describes in detail a multicolored shell of a tortoise, tables of wood from ill-omened trees, crystalware, cups made of myrrh, earrings made of pearl, and imported silk (Ben. 7.9.2-5). It is almost as if Demetrius aims to desensitize his audience to the impressions such luxury could make. After an apostrophe to avarice (avaritia), Demetrius considers gold (aurum), silver (argentum), and iron (ferrum), which he claims the land providentially buried deep within the earth (Ben. 7.10.1-2). A little later, he notes that he could complain against nature, since she did not bury gold and silver more deeply and pile more weight upon them so that they might never be removed (Ben. 7.10.4). If read literally, rather than rhetorically, Demetrius oversteps even the bounds of Stoic orthodoxy, which held the ethical ideal of living according to nature and considered this world to be the best of any possible worlds. He then decries certificates (diplomata), contracts (syngraphas), and guaranties (cautiones), empty phantoms of ownership (vacua habendi simulacra). He calls interest (fenus), account books (calendarium), and usury (usura) titles for human greed (Ben. 7.10.3). He then 83 Ep. 20.10. 84 He claims this wealth blinds the eyes of nations and kings (quae gentium oculos regumque praestringunt). 55 decries documents (tabellae), calculations (computationes), sale time (venale tempus), and bloodstained taxes (sanguinulentae centesimae), calling them dreams of empty avarice (inanis avaritiae somnia, Ben. 7.10.4). He calls the man who delights in the record of his estate, his vast tracts of land, huge herds, flocks, and private palaces wretched. He notes that when such a man has viewed what he has in relation to what he desires, he is still poor. The soul itself is enough for Demetrius. Demetrius finishes the speech by saying (Ben. 7.10.6), “Let me go and return me to my own wealth (divitiis meis). I know the kingdom of wisdom (regnum sapientiae) is both great and safe. Therefore, thusly I possess all, insofar as all belongs to all (ego sic omnia habeo, ut omnium sint)!” On the one hand, Demetrius is a sage-like character. He needs nothing because virtue demands nothing external. 85 He expresses a version of the same trope Seneca had been considering, namely that all things belong to the sage. Demetrius is in harmony with god, insofar as he neither needs nor desires anything beyond the virtue of his own soul. His castigation of luxury is similar to the speech that Seneca gives in his own persona in the first book decrying sexual impropriety (Ben. 1.9.3-5). Demetrius’s statement that all things belong to all, can be read as applying to his own speech, which Seneca suggests is an expression of his own eloquence and is a redeployment of a topos that frequently appears in his writings, spoken by both himself and others. In assimilating Demetrius’s voice to his own, Seneca underscores the fact that all things belong to all. Insofar as Demetrius and Seneca’s minds are in harmony with god’s, what belongs to any of them belongs to all alike including Demetrius’s speech. Their words, their logoi, are entirely consistent. 85 Cf. Ben. 5.4.3-5.1: At sunt quidam extra omnem subducti cupiditatem, qui vix ullis humanis desideriis continguntur; quibus nihil potest praestare ipsa fortuna. Necesse est a Socrate beneficiis vincar, necesse est a Diogene, qui per medias Macedonum gazas nudus incessit calcatis regiis opibus… Non est turpe ab his vinci. 56 Across De Providentia, Epistle 110, and De Beneficiis, Seneca assumes the voices of different personae to denounce luxury in similar ways. While middle Stoics professed that one might prefer certain indifferents over others, Seneca’s denunciations in these texts reflect the ethics of the Stoic Aristo, who rejected this aspect of Stoic morality. In all three texts, Seneca’s framing of others’ words evoke the self-sufficiency and pan-immanence of the Stoic god. Going so far as to take on the voice of god in two cases, Seneca illustrates through these speeches the harmony of the sage, who achieves oneness with the immanent Stoic divinity through imitation. 1.D. The Harmony of the Happy Life: The Voices of Seneca, the Sage, and Socrates in De Vita Beata In comparison with the three previously discussed texts, De Vita Beata stands out. Readers since antiquity have charged Seneca with inconsistency and some have cited De Vita Beata in particular since he seems to change his hardened stance towards wealth. 86 Instead of agreeing with Aristo in his rejection of the doctrine of preferred indifferents, Seneca adopts the position of middle Stoics like Panaetius, who argued that one might prefer certain indifferents over others as long as they do not impinge on one’s virtue. In the text, Seneca inveighs against his critics, who accuse him of acting out of accord with his writings and assumes both Socrates and the sage’s voice to illustrate that good men prefer luxury to poverty if it does not impinge on their virtue. Seneca is manifestly contradictory in the content of his explicit claims. However, the very speeches taken as evidence of Seneca’s inconsistency in De Vita Beata can in fact be read as exhibiting the coherence, the harmony, that he claims to be the goal of life; Seneca’s rhetorical techniques here are very comparable to those of previously discussed texts. Seneca dissolves his 86 E.g. Griffin 1976: 294-314, Rudich 1997: 17. 57 voice with those he imitates and has them echo his own words as if to illustrate the immanence of divine logos within each personae in accordance with his explicit claims within the text. Seneca exhorts the imitation of god/the world in this text as well. Independently of historical circumstances, differences in identity, and logical coherence, the framing of the speeches can be read as evoking the consistency at the root of Seneca’s Stoic worldview as much as the three previous speeches expressing a divergent position. Though Seneca reserves the right to form his own opinion, accepting, rejecting, or supplementing those of his Stoic predecessors, he does adhere to the most basic Stoic doctrine, as he states early in the text: “The happy life is in harmony with its nature.” (Beata est… uita conveniens naturae suae, Vita. 3.3). What does it mean to be in harmony with one’s nature? Seneca provides the following explanation in a hortatory mode (Vita. 8.4-6): †Ratio uera† sensibus inritata et capiens inde principia⎯nec enim habet aliud unde conetur aut unde ad uerum impetum capiat⎯in se reuertatur. Nam mundus quoque cuncta complectens rectorque uniuersi deus in exteriora quidem tendit, sed tamen introsum undique in se redit. Idem nostra mens faciat: cum secuta sensus suos per illos se ad externa porrexerit, et illorum et sui potens sit. Hoc modo una efficietur uis ac potestas concors sibi et ratio illa certa nascetur, non dissidens nec haesitans in opinionibus comprensionibusque nec in persuasione, quae cum se disposuit et partibus suis consensit et, ut ita dicam, concinuit, summum bonum tetigit. Nihil enim praui, nihil lubrici superest, nihil in quo arietet aut labet… Quare audaciter licet profitearis summum bonum esse animi concordiam; uirtutes enim ibi esse debebunt ubi consensus atque unitas erit: dissident uitia. Let true reason, stirred by the senses and taking its guiding principles from that source, return to itself; for it does not have anything else upon which to base its endeavors and to make an effort towards the truth. For in the same way, the universe embracing all things and god, the ruler of all, indeed stretches out into external things, but nevertheless returns from all directions back inwards towards itself. Our mind should do the same; when, having followed its sensations through those things, it extends itself to external things, it assumes power over both them and itself. In this way, a singular power will be produced and a power harmonious with itself and that stable reason will come into being, which is neither at variance nor uncertain in its beliefs and understandings, nor in its conviction, which, when it has disposed itself, agreed in its parts and, so to speak, harmonized, it has attained the highest good. Nothing defective, nothing slippery remains, nothing upon 58 which it may stumble or fall… Hence you may boldly avow that the highest good is the harmony of the soul; for the virtues are bound to be there, where unanimity and uniformity are. Vices are at variance. Seneca’s description of the back and forth movement of god, reason, and the mind could only be an account of pneumatic tensile motion. Tensile motion of pneuma coursing through passive, inert matter gives it shape, color, and the like. 87 Nemesius explains that tensile motion outwards produces quantities and qualities, while tensile motion inwards provides unity and substance (70.6-71.4, L-S 47J). Galen likens this movement to a hovering bird: the bird flaps its wings, but does not move. 88 Long offers a clear articulation of the Stoic view of tension (1996: 212-13): Viewed macroscopically, tension is that property of the divine pneuma or logos which makes it, in its interaction with matter, the universal principle of causation and dynamic coherence. Viewed microscopically and ethically, tension is a property of the human soul, which is itself a fragment of the divine pneuma. Seneca presents a similar kind of macro-to-micro comparison: he describes god’s movement throughout the cosmos and gives the exhortation that our minds should move in the same way. The rational, human soul is connected to the reason that pervades nature. 89 Seneca highlights the fact that the tensile movement of ratio generates stability through harmony (concors… consensit… concinuit… concordiam). By the middle of the passage, it becomes difficult to tell whether ratio refers to that of the individual or the divine reason of god, the rector universi, perhaps evoking the conformity that Seneca idealizes. The individual mens and ratio as a whole come together to generate a singular force (una… uis), a power in harmony with itself (potestas 87 It is worth pointing out that Hierocles describes the same kind of motion when giving his account of the first stage of oikeiosis (Elements of Ethics, 6.44-53). Cf. SVF 2.442 (L-S 47I). 88 SVF 2.450. L-S 47K. Cf. SVF 2.802, L-S 47.R. 89 For this reason, I am skeptical of Asmis 1990: 219-55, which argues, in essence, that Seneca is formulating his conceptions of virtue according to differences between individual personae. Her interpretation of the text is plausible, though it seems to miss a pronounced emphasis on the continuity between individual and universal nature. 59 concors sibi). 90 The result of this harmony with reason is, as Seneca describes it, unanimity and uniformity (consensus atque unitas), which he designates as the summum bonum. 91 Seneca presents virtue as a religious ideal, as he does in the three previous texts, even if he emphasizes god’s immanence as opposed to its self-sufficiency. Through intratextual echoes and the dissolution of voices in speeches of the philosopher, sage, and Socrates that conclude the work, Seneca evokes the pneumatic harmony described above. Although, in his voice and the voices of others, he defends his acquisition of wealth in contradiction with his many other castigations of luxury, the rhetorical form of the text nonetheless evokes the harmony characteristic of Senecan virtue through the harmonies of different voices. The speeches that mark the end of the work can be read as analogizing the relationship between universal and individual ratio: what Seneca’s voice is to those he imitates is what diuina ratio is to the ratio within individual soul. At the same time, one can read the speeches that conclude the work as Seneca, Socrates, the sage, and the progressing philosopher collectively harmonizing with ratio across time and space. 92 Read either way, Seneca evokes the immanence of divine ratio within the minds of the wise. The speeches can be best understood not only in light of Stoic doctrine, but also in light of the text of De Vita Beata itself. 93 It is hardly a coincidence that Seneca returns to the notion of 90 Compare Seneca’s rhetoric to a fragment and gloss of Zeno’s ideal: ‘τὸ ὁµολογουµένως ζῆν’ · τοῦτο δ’ ἐστὶ καθ’ ἕνα λόγον καὶ σύµφωνον ζῆν, Stobaeus 2.7.6a, L-S 63A.1. Note in Stobaeus’s gloss the emphasis on one logos and living harmoniously (σύµφωνον). 91 For further philosophical background relevant to the passage, see Costa 1994: 117. 92 On tension more generally in Senecan prose, see Wildberger 2006a: 60-79, though she does not discuss its influence on the rhetorical form of his texts. Hine 2013: 218-24 discusses the dissolution of voices, a phenomenon he dubs open-ended speech, although he does not ask what purpose such a rhetorical technique might have in light of Seneca’s Stoic commitments. 93 The text, addressed to Seneca’s brother Gallio, is commonly dated to 58 CE. Biographical readings of the work predominate (see n. 2 above). On the structure, see Mutschler’s convenient overview (2014: 142-3) with suggestions for further reading. 60 harmony (concordiam) elsewhere in the work where he describes the firmness and solidity of virtue and the happy life. Seneca describes Stoic joy (gaudium) as lofty (ingens), unwavering (inconcussum), and consistent (aequale) and notes that peace, harmony of mind (concordia animi), nobility, and clemency attend it (Vita. 3.4). Elsewhere Seneca describes the highest good as “the inflexibility of an unbreakable spirit, providence, sublimity, soundness of mind, freedom, harmony, and rightness” (infragilis animi rigor et prouidentia et sublimitas et sanitas et libertas et concordia et decor, Vita. 9.4). 94 He compares and contrasts the happy man with a rock: while neither will desire or fear, the happy man does so specifically on account of the gift of reason (beneficio rationis, Vita. 5.1). The stability that Seneca describes as attendant to the happy life results from living harmoniously with divine reason. Harmonizing with this force, which structures the universe, gives the wise man his firmness no matter his individual circumstances. 95 Seneca explains later in the text that we must follow Virtue, not only patiently, but gladly; Virtue bears the wounds of fortune like a good soldier with the knowledge that every circumstantial difficulty is actually the law of nature (omnemque temporum difficultatem sciet legem esse naturae, Vita, 15.5). To obey god is hardly different from assenting to the law of nature; Seneca encourages Gallio to interpret any difficulty as simply one feature of nature’s law and god’s plan. Seneca notes that Virtue will keep within her mind that ancient precept: “Follow god” (deum sequere, Vita, 15.5). By following the law of nature/fate/god, conveyed as it is 94 The language of stability and firmness pervades De Vita Beata: he beckons Gallio, “Let us seek something good not only in appearance, but solid (solidum), consistent (aequale) and more beautiful in its hidden part” (Vita. 3.1). Later he describes the happy life as equivalent to a free, assured, fearless, and stable mind (animum… stabilem, Vita 4.3). 95 Seneca describes the happy man’s independence from external circumstances elsewhere in the text: Vita 6.2: Beatus ergo est iudicii rectus; beatus est praesentibus qualiacumque sunt contentus amicusque rebus suis; beatus est is cui omnem habitum rerum suarum ratio commendat; Vita. 7.4: Summum bonum inmortale est, nescit exire, nec satietatem habet nec paenitentiam; numquam enim recta mens uertitur nec sibi odio est nec quicquam †mutauit† optima. See also, SVF 2.458, L-S 47Q. 61 through ratio coursing through matter, we can attain a position of unshakeable security. Seneca then exclaims, “What madness it is to be dragged rather than to follow!” (Quae autem dementia est potius trahi quam sequi!, Vita. 15.6). He likely has in the mind the well-known Stoic analogy used by Zeno and Chrysippus of a dog tied to a cart in order to describe the compatibility of free will and fate: the dog can either follow the cart willingly or be dragged along unwillingly anyway (SVF 2.975). The same is true for humans and fate: they can either willingly accept and follow what is fated or do so anyway unwillingly. As Seneca would have it, whether we like it or not, we are pneumatically connected to the whole. We can assent to this fact and live in harmony or withhold assent and live in disharmony. As he writes a little later, “We have been born into this domain: to obey god is freedom” (In regno nati sumus: deo parere libertas est, Vita. 15.7). In whatever situation we find ourselves, we can assent to the course of divine ratio, the rector uniuersi, deus, and gain our freedom. 96 It is worth asking what factors might lead one out of harmony. Seneca outlines the problem of identifying the path to the happy life as well as the difficulty of the journey itself in the opening of the text. Seneca claims that life will be spent in error as long as we wander (uagamur) without a leader (ducem) following the discordant rumble and shouting of those calling us in different directions (fremitum et clamorem dissonum in diuersa uocantium, Vita. 1.2). It is hardly coincidental that Seneca highlights the aural dissonance of the crowd, presumably a symbolic manifestation of their lack of harmony with nature. 97 He notes the importance of determining the proper goal and guide since the journey to the happy life is 96 This is all that we need to be happy. As Seneca puts it, Perfecta (uirtus) illa et diuina quidni sufficiat, immo superfluat? Quid enim deesse potest extra desiderium omnium posito?, Vita 16.3. 97 In responding those who associate virtue and pleasure together, Seneca writes, Non uideo quomodo ista tam diuersa in eandem copulam coiciantur, Vita. 7.1. Disharmony and variance are characteristic of those whose souls do not accord with nature. 62 unusual, in that the most well-worn and frequented path is most likely to lead one astray (tritissima quaeque uia et celeberrima maxime decipit, Vita 1.2). Seneca explains that we should not follow the mass advancing before us like sheep (pecorum ritu) as there is nothing worse than disposing ourselves to common talk (rumorem) and following the multitude as our exemplars (exempla <nobis pro> multa sunt). He decries that we live according not to reason (ad rationem), but to imitation (similitudinem, Vita. 1.3). Seneca claims that, as is often the case, if in the midst of this crowd one falls, he drags many others along with him into a jumbled mass drawing others into his mistake; he notes “we are destroyed by the example of others” (alienis perimus exemplis, Vita 1.4). 98 Summarizing, Seneca writes, “in truth, the people as defender of its own evil stands against reason” (uero stat contra rationem defensor mali sui populus). He notes that the same thing happens in an election, wherein popular favor vacillates (cum se mobilis fauor circumegit, Vita. 1.5): note the word mobilis in contrast with the stability characteristic of the happy life. The length and detail of Seneca’s meditation on the issue and its emphatic placement at the beginning of the text highlights the detrimental effect of the crowd on the individual and associates moral and aural dissonance. He rebukes his detractors whom he casts as a discordant jumble trying to distract the sage. To live in harmony with nature means disposing the ratio within our soul to the ratio suffused throughout nature, independent from the misguided masses. To live happily is to struggle incessantly against the mistaken notions of others, as Seneca himself does De Vita Beata. 99 Seneca presents this struggle emphatically near the end of the work where he responds to a number of objections to his notion of the happy life, the first being that he does not practice what he preaches. Seneca initially responds simply with the 98 See also Ep. 7 on crowds. 99 Cf. Vita. 20.4: Nihil opinionis causa, omnia conscientiae faciam. 63 admission that he is not a sapiens (Vita. 17.3-4). While Seneca tries to live up to his words, the scarcity of actual sages testifies to the difficulty of Stoic self-perfection. Seneca moves on to counter the criticism that no philosophers have ever lived up to their words by simply noting that he, like Plato, Epicurus, and Zeno, are merely describing how people ought to live (Vita. 18.1). It would seem plausible that Seneca’s struggle to harmonize his mind with universal reason is part of a broader, timeless struggle of all philosophers to do the same, at least from a Stoic perspective. Seneca explains that though they would be fortunate to live up to their words, their words still benefit themselves and others through moving them closer to their goal. Moreover, Seneca notes that focusing on the flaws of others prevents one from working on one’s own flaws, as Seneca so often seems to be doing in the very writing of his texts (Vita. 20.1-6). Seneca distinguishes one who is eager for wisdom (studiosus sapientiae), a philosopher, from one who has attained wisdom (adeptus sapientiam), a sage. Seneca gives a speech in the voice of the former (Vita. 24.4), “It is not right that you demand that I live up to my standard (ad formulam meam). At this moment, I am composing and shaping myself and elevating myself toward this lofty exemplar (facio me et formo et ad exemplar ingens attollo). If I should have advanced as far as I intended, demand that my deeds conform to my words (ut dictis facta respondeant).” Seneca’s philosopher has not achieved a state of harmonious consistency within his mens and with divine ratio as a whole. Rather, he is simply making progress on the path through imitation. Note the words designating self-fashioning (facio, formo) and the language of exemplarity: exemplar ingens certainly denotes the sage. Formulam here perhaps means “standard,” though it could be rendered as “guide, pattern, exemplar” (OLD 7b). 100 The concerns of the philosopher are hardly different from Seneca’s, which makes sense given that both are proficientes on the 100 In Vita. 13.5, he exclaims repeatedly “Let virtue lead the way” (Virtus antecedat… virtus antecedat). 64 path to wisdom, working on their own faults, and nonetheless capable of voicing philosophical ideals. In the opening of the text, Seneca had noted the dangers of advancing upon the path of the happy life without a guide (non ducem, Vita. 1.2). The philosopher’s preoccupation with imitation might bring to mind the injunctions that Seneca gives in his own voice, namely to imitate and follow god (deum effingas, Vita. 16.1, deum sequere, Vita, 15.5) and his lament that we imitate the masses and perish by their example (alienis perimus exemplis, Vita 1.4). Insofar as the sage’s soul is rationally disposed, there is only a relatively small difference between following ratio and following the sage. 101 Before proceeding, it is necessary to point out that Seneca speaks as the sage elsewhere in the text, apparently practicing the imitative self-fashioning of the progressing philosopher. In Vita. 11.1, after arguing against an opponent who charges that virtue should attend pleasures, he writes, “When I say I do nothing for the sake of pleasure, I am speaking about the sage, to whom alone you grant pleasure” (Cum dico me nihil uoluptatis causa facere, de illo loquor sapiente, cui soli concedimus uoluptatem). While Seneca may not be able to act as a sage, he is able to imitate him and/or temporarily assume his persona. Seneca’s clarification here opens up the possibility that he lapses into speaking as a sage at other points in his writing without always marking his assumption of the sage’s voice. Seneca does not have the perfect, unshakeable harmony with universal ratio that is his highest ideal, but sometimes his mens harmonizes with the ratio of the whole to the point that his speech and the speech of the sage are indistinguishable. Speech, the faculty most associated with ratio, adumbrates Seneca’s virtuous harmony. 101 See for instance Seneca’s comparison of the goodness of the sage with the goodness of god in Ep. 73.13. The goodness of man and god are the same, except that the goodness of god lasts longer. The only difference is scale. 65 Near the end of the text, Seneca assumes the sage’s speaking persona explicitly. The sage takes up Seneca’s concerns, rebuking critics, whose morality is less perfect than his. He notes that proof of his moral rectitude (argumentum… recti) is the displeasure (displicere) of the wicked (Vita. 24.4). He goes on to parrot Stoic orthodoxy, denying the value of riches, since they do not make men good, though he admits that he finds that they are desirable (habendas), are useful, and add comfort to life (Vita. 24.5). Earlier in the text, Seneca had defended himself by noting that even the sage would prefer wealth. 102 Here the sage steps up, voicing a position in harmony with Seneca’s. In so many words, the sage claims that his preference for certain indifferents does not mean he would be unhappy without them: he would prefer to live in an opulent home rather than under a bridge and to sleep on a mattress rather than hay, though he would be no less happy were he not to have his preference (Vita. 25.1-3). The sage’s speech ends at Vita. 25.3. Seneca then introduces Socrates by writing, “The famous Socrates will say this to you” (Hoc tibi ille Socrates dicet, Vita. 25.4). Ille seems to be lending a certain generality to the speech. Basore 1932: 166b suggests an equivalence between ille Socrates and the supreme philosopher, i.e. the sage. 103 Seneca’s use of the demonstrative ille when he claims that he has been speaking as the sage (de illo loquor sapiente, Vita. 11.1) supports this claim. The particulars of Socrates’ identity fade in and out of relevance as the text goes on. Socrates dramatically begins his speech (Vita. 25.4), “Make me the conqueror of all nations (fac me uictorem uniuersarum gentium), let that luxurious chariot of Bacchus carry me triumphantly all the way to Thebes from the rising of the sun, let the kings of nations ask me for laws; 104 I will consider myself a man most 102 Nec enim se sapiens indignum ullis muneribus fortuitis putat: non amat diuitias sed mauult, Vita. 21.4; Quis porro sapientium—nostrorum dico, quibus unum est bonum uirtus—negat etiam haec quae indifferentia uocamus habere aliquid in se pretii et alia aliis esse potiora? Vita 22.4. 103 Cf. Ker 2013: 185. 104 I follow Madvig with reading a me petant for †penatium† petant. 66 of all when I am hailed as a god from every corner (hominem esse maxime cogitabo, cum deus undique consalutabor).” The opening of Socrates’ speech (‘fac me’) echoes the words of the self-fashioning philosopher (‘facio me et formo’, Vita. 24.4). Socrates’ injunction can be read as directed towards himself or Seneca. It is almost as if Socrates is commenting on Seneca’s use of him, beckoning Seneca to fashion him in the appropriate guise. Seneca imitates this great exemplar (an ingens exemplar?) as Socrates assumes the trappings of a god, recalling Seneca’s earlier exhortation (deum effingas, Vita. 16.1). 105 Dionysus’s travels to Thebes evokes his toppling of Pentheus: the divine leader toppling a political leader carries a Stoic flavor in light of their assertion that only the wise man is king. Dionysus’s transgressive nature accords with Seneca’s relationship to popular opinion: both figures advocate positions out of step with other elites, whether through encouraging Bacchic revelry or claiming that wealth is not a good. Seneca is perhaps also playing upon Dionysus’s paradoxical connotation as a civilizing figure. Seneca perhaps aims for his texts also to have a civilizing function, through disabusing his readers of their false, base conceptions, namely that certain indifferents are goods. Socrates’ request that kings of nations seek laws from him might remind the reader of Seneca’s claim in 3.3 (ab illa (natura) non deerrare et ad illius legem exemplumque formari sapientia est), suggesting that Socrates’ mind is molded according to natural law, which Seneca commonly identifies with ratio. Socrates is prepared to provide laws to Thebes, but probably also to give voice to the inborn ratio of the universe. Having cast Socrates as conquering Dionysus, Seneca has Socrates claim that he will remember that he is not a god (‘hominem esse maxime cogitabo, cum deus undique 105 It is possible that Seneca is inverting the fourth line of the Bacchae in which Dionysus says that he has assumed mortal form (µορφὴν δ’ ἀµείψας ἐκ θεοῦ βροτησίαν). 67 consalutabor’). Socrates performs the role now of the attendant slave, who reminds the triumphator of his mortality. Seneca writes (Vita. 25.4), “To such a lofty peak (sublimi fastigio) join straightaway a sudden shift (praecipitem mutationem): I will place myself on a foreign stretcher to decorate the parade of a proud and savage victor; I am no more lowly (non humilior) when driven forward under the power of another’s chariot (sub alieno curru) than I am when I stood upon my own (in meo).” Though Socrates would prefer to conquer, being conquered does not make him unhappy. While Seneca imitates a generic philosopher, a sage, and Socrates, Socrates imitates a god, a triumphator (who presumably also imitates a god, since he customarily dressed as Jupiter), an attendant slave, and a hostage. Socrates, presumably like Seneca, is happy in any role regardless of his fortune. He would utter the same words in any voice, insofar as his ratio is disposed in harmony with the ratio of god who pervades nature. While Attalus denounces a parade showing off the spoils of empire, Socrates notes that he would be just as happy in a chariot of victory as under the yoke of another. Reynolds’s OCT has the speech continue through 25.8 though Basore’s Loeb ends Socrates’ first speech at 25.5. 106 Quid ergo est seems as likely a marker as any of the end of the 106 ‘… non humilior sub alieno curru agar quam in meo steteram. (Basore ends the speech here) quid ergo est? uincere tamen quam capi malo. Totum fortunae regnum despiciam, sed ex illo, si dabitur electio, meliora sumam. Quidquid ad me uenerit bonum fiet, sed malo faciliora ac iucundiora ueniant et minus uexatura tractantem. Non est enim quod existimes ullam esse sine labore uirtutem, sed quaedam uirtutes stimulis, quaedam frenis egent. Quemadmodum corpus in procliui retineri debet, aduersus ardua inpelli, ita quaedam uirtutes in procliui sunt, quaedam cliuum subeunt. An dubium est quin escendat nitatur obluctetur patientia fortitudo perseuerantia et quaecumque alia duris opposita uirtus est et fortunam subigit? Quid ergo? Non aeque manifestum est per deuexum ire liberalitatem temperantiam mansuetudinem? In his continemus animum ne prolabatur, in illis exhortamur incitamusque acerrime. Ergo paupertati adhibebimus illas quae pugnare sciunt fortiores, diuitiis illas diligentiores quae suspensum gradum ponunt et pondus suum sustinent. Cum hoc ita diuisum sit, malo has in usu mihi esse quae exercendae tranquillius sunt quam eas quarum experimentum sanguis et sudor est. Ergo non ego aliter’ inquit sapiens ‘uiuo quam loquor, sed uos aliter auditis; sonus tantummodo uerborum ad aures uestras peruenit: quid significet non quaeritis’, Vita. 25.4-8. 68 speech. Reynolds however has the speech continue through 25.8, with inquit sapiens interrupting the final sentence. In what Reynolds designates as the rest of the speech, Socrates/the sage states his preference for certain indifferents. He reckons that some virtues, like generosity, moderation, and kindness are “downhill” (in procliui), because they are easier to practice than “uphill” (cliuum) virtues like endurance (patientia), courage (fortitudo), steadfastness (perseuerantia). All things being equal, the speaker would prefer downhill virtues (Vita. 25.6-8). There is nothing in this section of the text specific to Socrates, the sage, or Seneca. Seneca has added inquit sapiens redundantly, Basore’s punctuation is correct, or, most likely, this passage is a case in which the insertion of quotation marks is inappropriate. Perhaps on account of their harmony with universal ratio, each speaker’s words are exactly the same as one another’s. Seneca then either begins a speech in the voice of the sapiens or ends Socrates’ speech, depending on punctuation (Vita. 25.8), ‘Ergo non ego aliter’ inquit sapiens ‘uiuo quam loquor, sed uos aliter auditis; sonus tantummodo uerborum ad aures uestras pervenit: quid significet non quaeritis.’ “Therefore,” says the sage, “I do not live differently than I speak, but you listen differently; only the sound of my words reaches your ears; you do not inquire about what it means.” Reynolds ends the speech at quaeritis. Following the speech (or dictum?) from the sage (and/or Socrates?), someone asks, “What is the difference then between me, the fool, and you, the sage, if we each have wealth?”(‘Quid ergo inter me stultum et te sapientem interest, si uterque habere uolumus?’, Vita. 26.1). Reynolds inserts quotation marks around this claim to designate that Seneca, not the sage, is imitating an interlocutor. It is true that someone is parroting the words of an opponent. However is it impossible that the sage speaks the way that Seneca writes, parroting the views of his opposition and responding? If we extend the quotation marks all the way to the 69 end of 25.8, then why not extend them further? There seems little doubt that he is giving voice to a fictus aduersarius. But is this stultus the opponent of Socrates, the sage, Seneca, or all three? It seems that there is no airtight case to be made for ending the speech at 25.8. The sage might give voice to the interlocutor just as Seneca often does. Seneca (in his own voice? In the voice of the sapiens and/or Socrates?) then describes how differently the wise manage their wealth from fools. The wise man reflects on poverty in the midst of his wealth while the fool clings to it, identifying it as his happiness. The wise man abides in his serenity and as Seneca puts it, “Indeed he lives happily in his present circumstances and secure in his future” (uiuit enim praesentibus laetus, futuri securus, Vita. 26.3). Note here the stable condition of the wise man across time in the present and future. Seneca might be emphasizing this stability through having different voices at different historical moments utter the same words. In doing so, he might be adumbrating the influence of a singular ratio within the minds of all, which is the very source of the serenity that Seneca describes. Seneca’s discussion leads to yet another speech in the voice of Socrates/the sage. He writes (Vita. 26.4), ‘Nihil magis’ inquit ille Socrates aut aliquis alius cui idem 〈adfectus〉 aduersus humana atque eadem potestas est ‘persuasi mihi quam ne ad opiniones uestras actum uitae meae flecterem.’ “I have persuaded myself,” says the famous Socrates, or anyone else who possesses the same feeling towards human affairs and the same power, “of nothing more than not to bend the course of my life to your opinions.” As was the case before, Seneca seems to suggest that anyone who possesses the same authority and power would utter such words. Presumably the power to which Seneca refers is the same, singular power that he had alluded to in Vita. 8.4-6, the result of harmony between individual and universal ratio. The sage’s ratio conforms to the divine ratio within all things. Socrates steps 70 up to defend Seneca, echoing his earlier claim, “I do nothing for the sake of opinion, everything for the sake of my conscience” (Nihil opinionis causa, omnia conscientiae faciam, Vita. 20.4). Rather than showing his indifference towards wealth, Seneca showcases his indifference towards popular opinion. Throughout the text Seneca had trumpeted his own consistency with Stoic doctrine, and expressed his disesteem for his critics who wrongly accuse him of hypocrisy. Indeed, though the ending of the text has been lost, Socrates’ concluding speeches almost certainly suggest a ring composition, in returning to the theme of the misguided masses. 107 That Socrates, Seneca, or anyone who possessed the same potestas would utter such words testifies to the timelessness of virtue and the indifference of any virtuous soul towards externals. Seneca’s appropriation of Socrates’ voice reflects their shared indifference. While they might prefer some indifferents over others, indifferents affect the happiness of neither. Seneca explains that anyone wise (cui sapientia contigit) will say these things. He then gives a speech noting that he is moved not on his own behalf, but rather on behalf of his critics (‘non meo nomine sed uestro mouet’, Vita. 26.5). The claim that he is not moved on his own account is ironic given the fact that Seneca is speaking in another’s voice. Socrates/the sage is no more fazed by his critics’ words than he is by Seneca’s and vice versa. Comparing himself to the gods he writes, “You do not injure me, nor do those who overturn altars injure the gods” (‘Nullam mihi iniuriam facitis, sed ne dis quidem hi qui aras euertunt’, Vita. 26.5). Owing to the strength of his virtue, i.e. his total harmony with divine nature as a whole, he can in no way be harmed. The speaker sets up an equivalence between criticism towards himself and blasphemy towards the gods. This makes sense if virtue is conceived of as agreement or consistency with 107 Socrates’ criticisms of the masses (‘Solita conferte undique uerba: non conuiciari uos putabo sed uagire uelut infantes miserrimos’, Vita. 26.4) are hardly different from the kinds of criticisms Seneca offers in the beginning of the text. 71 the divine ratio. He goes on to correct the blasphemous stories of the gods peddled by those wishing to excuse their own lack of virtue, comparing his forbearance to Jupiter’s before the poets. Though Jupiter may be given horns or cast as an adulterer, an abuser of other gods, a rapist of freeborn youths, and unfair towards men, such poetic absurdities (ineptias poetarum) have no effect upon him (Vita. 26.5-6). 108 Seneca seems to be pitting traditional ways of representing Jupiter against the Stoic Jupiter, whom they commonly identified with ratio. The indifference of Jupiter to the poets is paradigmatic of the indifference of the wise man to his critics, which in turn is paradigmatic of Seneca’s own indifference to his critics. The gods are Socrates’ models. When (philosophically uninformed) poets imitate the gods, they create fictions. When (Stoic) philosophers imitate gods, they cohere to their will. Though voicing a different position towards material goods, Seneca nonetheless evokes the consistency at the root of his religious ideal. The speaker beckons his addressee to have respect for virtue and those who have pursued her for a long time. He says (Vita 26.7), ‘… ipsam (uirtutem) ut deos ac professores eius ut antistites colite et, quotiens mentio sacrarum litterarum interuenerit, fauete linguis.’ “… worship (virtue) itself as you worship the gods and its professors as priests and, whenever there is mention of sacred literature, keep silent.” Seneca compares virtue to the gods and its professors (i.e. moral philosophers) to their priests, perhaps insinuating that his own texts are a species of sacrae litterae. He arrogantly equates the calumny of his critics with blasphemy against the gods, thereby reinforcing his own pious 108 Sed malum propositum apparet malumque consilium etiam ibi ubi nocere non potuit. The description of Jupiter with horns is evocative not only of Xenophanes’ theological critique (B15), but perhaps also Socrates’ defense of his religious beliefs in the Apology. Ker 2013: 192 points out that the Roman triumphator was customarily dressed as Jupiter, reinforcing the parallel between the sage and the conquering general. 72 devotion to divine ratio. Once again, the punctuation of Basore’s Loeb and Reynolds’s OCT differs. Basore ends the quotation with linguis above while Reynolds extends it all the way to 26.8. 109 Seneca in his voice or the voice of the sage then unpacks the phrase fauete linguis. He explains that though many imagine fauete linguis means to show favor (i.e. applause), 110 it actually commands silence (imperat silentium) so that the rite can be carried out without an unfavorable voice making a clamor (nulla uoce mala obstrepente, Vita. 26.7). Vicious, noisy crowds ought not interrupt the holy work of harmonious philosophers. One might contrast the total continuity of the voices of Senecan personae with the uproarious crowds. Seneca, Socrates, or any sage, then explains (Vita. 26.7), “what is much more necessary is that, whenever something is uttered by that oracle (ex illo proferetur oraculo), you command yourselves to listen intently and with a silenced voice (intenti et compressa uoce audiatis).” Seneca invites an association between his own literary technique, in which he speaks his words through other voices, and the oracle who speaks the words of god. The oracle speaking the words of god could be read as a figurative description of divine ratio itself speaking through philosophers, Seneca included. Likewise, it could evoke the pervasion of Senecan rhetoric into the voices of the personae he assumes. 109 Reynolds has the speech continue from linguis above as follows: ‘Hoc uerbum non, ut plerique existimant, a fauore trahitur, sed imperat silentium ut rite peragi possit sacrum nulla uoce mala obstrepente; quod multo magis necessarium est imperari uobis, ut quotiens aliquid ex illo proferetur oraculo, intenti et compressa uoce audiatis. Cum sistrum aliquis concutiens ex imperio mentitur, cum aliquis secandi lacertos suos artifex brachia atque umeros suspensa manu cruentat, cum aliqua genibus per uiam repens ululat laurumque linteatus senex et medio lucernam die praeferens conclamat iratum aliquem deorum, concurritis et auditis ac diuinum esse eum, inuicem mutuum alentes stuporem, adfirmatis’, Vita. 26.7-8. 110 Cf. Basore 1932: 174a. 73 Seneca, perhaps still in another’s voice, describes various devotees including a worshiper feigning to speak with authority while shaking a rattle, 111 another slashing his arms, another howling as she crawls on her knees, and an old man, which Seneca describes as: “‘cloaked in linen, carrying the laurel and the lantern in the middle of day, exclaiming that one of the gods is angry’” (‘laurumque linteatus senex et medio lucernam die praeferens conclamat iratum aliquem deorum,’ Vita. 26.8). Ker 2014 n67: 271 notes that “the details evoke various oriental religions including worship of Isis (rattle) and Cybele (self-laceration).” Note again how literal disharmony denotes disharmony with reason itself. Seneca then returns to the voice of Socrates explicitly or, as Reynolds would have it, reminds the reader that the speaker is Socrates. He writes (Vita. 27.1), Behold Socrates from that prison, which he purified (purgauit) by entering and returned in a state nobler (honestiorem) than any senate house, proclaim, “What madness (furor) is that, what a hostile temperament towards gods and men (ista inimica dis hominibusque natura) to defame the virtues (infamare uirtutes) and to profane sacred things with spiteful talk (malignis sermonibus sancta uiolare)?” Socrates seems to address both his and Seneca’s critics. Again Seneca intermingles audiences. Seneca highlights the difference between his holy (i.e. virtuous) speech and the petty talk of his critics. They take aim not only at him personally, but at the refinement of anyone’s virtue. Seneca here emphasizes at least one detail of Socrates’ individual identity, namely his imprisonment by the Athenian people. This detail reminds the reader of the dangers that crowds pose for the virtuous. In alluding to Socrates’ biography, Seneca also recalls the dangerous turba that proceed down the wrong path in the opening of the text and perhaps the turba of indifferents, which sometimes seduce people away from pursuing virtue. The allusion to prison 111 Cf. Seneca’s description of those who adopt Epicurus’s name to hide their vices: Vita. 13.3: Hoc tale est quale uir fortis stolam indutus: constat tibi pudicitia, uirilitas salua est, nulli corpus tuum turpi patientiae uacat, sed in manu tympanum est. 74 invites association not only with Plato’s Phaedo and Crito, but also to Dionysus breaking out of prison in Thebes and defying its ruler. Seneca casts his opposition as the hoi polloi, though he perhaps asserts his independence from the emperor as well. Socrates goes on to command them (Seneca’s critics, his critics, or both) to praise the good if they are able and if not, to ignore it and to save their castigation for one another. He explains that when they rave against heaven, they do not commit sacrilege, but rather waste their time (Vita. 27.1). Socrates describes the mockery he faced at the hands of Aristophanes (Vita. 27.2). “I once offered Aristophanes material for his jokes (materiam iocorum); that whole band of comic poets (tota illa comicorum poetarum manus) showered its poisonous wit (uenenatos sales suos) upon me. My virtue was illuminated by the very means through which it was attacked (inlustrata est uirtus mea per ea ipsa per quae petebatur). Indeed, it is useful for it to be drawn out (produci) by them and tested (temptari); no one recognizes how great one’s strength is (quanta sit) more than those who have perceived (senserunt) its strength (uires) under a challenge (lacessendo). The hardness (duritia) of stones is known by no one better than those striking them (ferientibus). I present myself no differently (Praebeo me non aliter) from some rock isolated upon a wavy sea, which waves (fluctus), impelled from every direction, do not cease striking and which they do not move from its position (nec…loco eam mouent) or wear away (consumunt) through so many epochs (per tot aetates) by its frequent collision. Rush! Make your attack! I will conquer you through enduring (ferendo uos uincam).” Socrates’ speech picks up a number of threads from the rest of the text. Socrates presents himself in the same way that Seneca described Jupiter, unmoved before the ineptias poetarum who misrepresent him. This depiction may have an especial significance given that all both figures were charged with sexual impropriety with other males. Socrates was of course charged with corrupting the youth and Seneca notes that poets make Jupiter a “rapist of freeborn youths” (raptorem ingenuorum, Vita. 26.6). While Seneca notes that he, like Jupiter, is in no way harmed by those criticisms (ista me nihil laedant, Vita. 26.7), Socrates goes slightly further describing such barbs as drawing out and thereby illuminating his virtue. The term manus is particularly 75 significant, especially if the text did end shortly after Socrates’ speech. Seneca, in the guise of Socrates, may be returning to the theme of the misguided, discordant masses, this time in the guise of comic poets. 112 The image of the isolated rock refers to his indifference not only towards popular criticisms, but more broadly towards any kind of misfortune. Seneca had compared the happy man to a rock, though, unlike a rock, the happy man is unmoved owing to the gift of reason (beneficio rationis, Vita. 5.1). It is important to remember that it is specifically the tensile motion of ratio that generates this firmness and stability. The language of hardness and durability (duritia… silicis… rupes… firma) is similar to the language with which Seneca characterizes the happy life earlier in the text and whose source is harmony. 113 At the risk of tendentiousness, Socrates’ claim Praebeo me non aliter perhaps picks up the words Seneca had given in the voice of the sage: non ego aliter… uiuo quam loquor, Vita. 25.8. The rhetoric of authenticity and consistency persists no matter the persona. The isolated rock on the sea is evocative of the persistence of both immanent ratio and Senecan rhetoric no matter the identity of the speaker. It is no surprise that Reynolds and Basore once again end Socrates’ speech at different points. According to Basore, Socrates concludes the speech by noting that the effort of his critics will double back on them owing to their firm (firma) and unconquerable (inexsuperabilia) target, suggesting that they seek softer (mollem) and more yielding (cedentem) material (materiam, Vita. 27.3). Reynolds on the other hand continues the speech through the end of the extant text. 114 If 112 Recall that he had also referred to indifferents as a turba (Vita. 4.3), a word whose meanings are not far from manus. 113 solidum, Vita. 3.1, inconcussum, Vita. 3.4, stabilem, Vita. 4.3, immotum, Vita. 4.5, immutabilis, Vita. 5.3, infragilis, Vita. 9.4. 114 Vita. 27.3-4: proinde quaerite aliquam mollem cedentemque materiam in qua tela uestra figantur. (Basore ends the speech here). Vobis autem uacat aliena scrutari mala et sententias ferre de quoquam?… 76 Basore’s punctuation is correct, Socrates’ speech is a ring composition; he returns to the topic of materia, which initially denotes the subject matter of the poets and in the end denotes Socrates’ virtue. Autem in 27.4 could perhaps be read as subtly marking a shift in speaker. 115 In what Reynolds marks as the rest of the speech, Socrates parrots criticisms of his easy living (laxius habitat) and sumptuous dining (lautius cenat), which seem directed more towards Seneca. Socrates responds that his critics are attending to others’ pimples although they are covered with sores (Papulas obseruatis alienas, obsiti plurimis ulceribus). He says it is as if one being eaten by a grievous itch (scabies depascitur) were criticizing the moles and warts on the most beautiful bodies (pulcherrimorum corporum, Vita. 27.4). He notes criticisms of subsequent philosophers: Plato and Aristotle taught for money, Democritus traded his inheritance for money, and Epicurus spent money. In spite of this anachronism, Socrates beckons his critics also to “cite Alcibiades and Phaedrus in order to condemn me” (‘mihi ipsi Alcibiaden et Phaedrum obiectate’, Vita. 27.5). Perhaps the anachronism can be explained on account of the fact that Socrates’ mind is in harmony with universal, divine ratio to the degree that he can see into the future through his apprehension of fate--an interconnected, rational network of causes. In the final portion of the text, Seneca/Socrates describes the sage’s lofty point of view above the storms of fortune that will plague his critics. 116 The image complements the anachronism of Socrates’ speech. Socrates and Seneca’s harmonious disposition of mind lifts them above both fortune and the calumny of others. Their harmony with divine ratio ensures they are untouched by the vacillations of history, a fact suggested in the indistinguishability of voices in De Vita Beata. Conclusion 115 See the preceding footnote. 116 At ego ex alto prospiciens uideo quae tempestates aut immineant uobis paulo tardius rupturae nimbum suum aut iam uicinae uos ac uestra rapturae propius accesserint, Vita. 28.1. 77 While Seneca’s explicit claims in De Vita Beata may contradict his frequent repudiations of wealth in other works including De Providentia, Epistle 110, and De Beneficiis, the rhetorical forms of his texts tell a different story when read in light of his maxims regarding man’s relationship to god. Across these four texts, Seneca illustrates the harmony of the sage, who achieves oneness with the immanent Stoic divinity through imitation. Seneca, who in fact explicitly abjures logic and, at best, treats it as useful tool, does not display consistency systematically or logically; he conveys consistency through his imitations of various personae in his texts. Although it is sometimes assumed that ratio is the primary Latin translation of logos, Seneca in fact can be read as translating the Stoic logos into the literary design of his text through harmonizing his words with others. Across all four texts, his framing of the speech of various personae is quite similar. In all cases, Seneca has his speakers echo his words and often has their voices dissolve together with his as they speak to diverse audiences across time and space. Seneca’s imitations of different speakers illustrate the good man’s relationship to god in the rhetorical form of his texts. The striking coherence of the speeches of god, Attalus, Demetrius, Socrates, and the sage with the bodies of the texts in which they appear might prompt us to reject the caricature of Senecan style as sand without lime. It is possible to read the speeches as artistic expressions of Stoic ideals, based on the belief that the voice was part of the rational soul. Gareth Williams 2015: 140 notes that according to the Stoics, only the sapiens is the true orator on account of his disposition of mind which accords with nature and cosmic reason. He writes, “adaptation to cosmic rationality overrides expression of self” (2015: 141). Seneca lives up to this Stoic rhetorical ideal in his writings. His imitations of other personae on the whole downplay their individuality. As if taking on the role of logos or pneuma, Seneca speaks through their voices at 78 the same time hinting at the immanence of divine logos within his own voice, as great philosophers harmonize across space and time independent of external circumstances. 79 Chapter 2: Interpreting and Digesting Impressions Introduction For the Stoics, the soul was a physical entity that underwent alterations according to impressions, i.e. sense-data and thoughts. These impressions served as a crucial means of forming concepts and understanding the nature of the world, and so were a crucial part of their epistemology. Stoic sources make a number of technical distinctions between different kinds of impressions (sensory and non-sensory, rational and non-rational, convincing and non- convincing, etc.). 117 Seneca, however, never discusses the theory of impressions in great detail, even though Graver 2014: 259-67 demonstrates that he was familiar with the theory. A number of scholars have imported the theory in order to explain various features of his writing and thought, for instance his use of metaphor (Bartsch 2009: 188- 217) or the process through he constructed his texts to improve the reader (Wildberger 2006b: 75-102). Although this scholarship has richly contextualized Seneca in relation to Stoic epistemology, it has overlooked the fact that Seneca seems to present or emphasize different aspects of the theory from text to text. Seneca seems far less concerned with toeing the line of orthodoxy regarding Stoic epistemology, than in selectively alluding to or drawing upon the theory for specific literary- didactic ends from text to text. Through close readings of Socrates’ speech in De Beneficiis, the speech of Ratio in Epistle 84, and the speeches of Attalus and Sotion in Epistle 108, this chapter demonstrates that though the Stoic theory of impressions plays an important role in all three texts, Seneca does not present the theory in a monolithic way. Seneca’s presentation of the theory in each case depends on his aims in each particular text. While Epistles 84 and 108 both deal with reading others’ texts 117 See L-S 39. 80 and philosophical education more generally, De Beneficiis concerns the dos and don’ts of gift exchange, leading Seneca to vary his discussion of impressions. While Seneca is not quite inconsistent, he does not discuss the theory in a static way. He emphasizes different aspects depending on the particular work. The first section of this chapter argues that Seneca associates the cryptic, contradictory rhetoric of De Beneficiis with the enigmatic impressions that one must interpret and evaluate in gift exchange. Seneca’s attitude towards impressions in De Beneficiis must be understood in light of his didactic strategy in that particular work. Socrates’ speech in book 5 of De Beneficiis presents a microcosm of Seneca’s broader didactic strategy in the work. Seneca describes Socratic discourse as moving through figuras, which could mean visual images and figures of speech, thereby associating Socrates’ cryptic mode of speaking with the very portent he interprets in the text. In this respect, Socrates appears as a figure comparable to Seneca, who communicates through cryptic rhetoric as well as an ideal reader, who knows how to interpret ambiguous impressions, which are common in gift exchange. The second part of this chapter demonstrates that Seneca engages with the Stoic theory of impressions in a substantively different way in Epistles 84 and 108. Both texts, like De Beneficiis, feature language that demonstrates Seneca’s familiarity with the theory of impressions. However, Seneca is more concerned in these two letters that the mind absorbs impressions rather than how the mind interprets them. In both letters, Seneca compares literary appropriation, the incorporation of others’ voices and texts within one’s own writing, to the mind’s reception of impressions. Seneca’s imitations of other speakers can be read as evoking the very process of reception that he describes. Read together, the two sections of the chapter 81 demonstrate that Seneca’s treatment of the Stoic theory of impressions is not monolithic or reducible to recapitulation of earlier Stoic orthodoxy. 2.A. Socratic and Senecan Discourse in De Beneficiis Early in De Beneficiis, Seneca emphatically claims the true beneficium is not whatever is handed over, but rather is the will of the giver. After noting that some people claim to owe money, a consulship, a priesthood, or the administration of a province, Seneca writes programmatically (Ben. 1.5.2), Ista autem sunt meritorum signa, non merita. Non potest beneficium manu tangi: res animo geritur. Multum interest inter materiam beneficii et beneficium; itaque nec aurum nec argentum nec quicquam eorum, quae pro maximis accipiuntur, beneficium est, sed ipsa tribuentis voluntas. Those things, however, are signs of services, not services themselves. A benefit cannot be touched with the hand; the matter is carried out in the mind. 118 There is a great difference between the material of the benefit and the benefit itself; therefore neither gold nor silver nor any of those things, which are mistakenly considered the best, is a benefit, but rather it is the will of the giver itself. The material of the gift is a merely a sign, a potentially an ambiguous one, through which one might infer the will of the giver, which is the true beneficium. In the course of disabusing Liberalis of the notion that beneficia are material goods, Seneca writes that those things assume the false name of beneficium (falsum beneficii nomen usurpant) though they are really only instruments through which a friendly intention reveals itself (ministeria… per quae se voluntas amica explicat). He goes on to write that the appearance of the gift is in one place, the gift itself in another (aliubi sit species rei, aliubi ipsa res, Ben. 1.5.5). Presumably the true location of the gift lies within the mind of the giver. He offers comparisons with symbols of honor like military decorations (torquibus, murali, civica), the purple toga (praetexta), the fasces, the tribunal (tribunal), the triumphal chariot (currus), and the crown (corona). These are not honors in and of 118 He reasserts his claim that the matter is carried out in the mind in Ben. 2.34.1. 82 themselves, but rather the symbols of honors (honoris insigne). By the same token, the beneficium is not whatever passes under one’s eyes (sub oculos venit). Rather the material of a benefit is merely the trace (vestigium) and mark (nota) of the beneficium (Ben. 1.5.6). From these signa, species, vestigia, and nota, we must infer the giver’s intention, which Seneca treats as the true gift. 119 Seneca enjoins Liberalis to communicate his good intentions through the signs of gifts and also to “read” his recipients in order to assess if they are worthy. In all cases, Seneca makes clear that the species of both gifts and recipients are unreliable. Seneca’s interlocutor poses the question whether he will wait to know if his recipient will be grateful before conferring a benefit since assessing can take a long time and not to wait is rash (temerarium, Ben. 4.33.1). In response, Seneca writes, We will respond to this man that we never wait for a completely sure grasp of things (certissimam rerum comprehensionem), since the investigation of truth (veri exploratio) is difficult, rather that we go where probability leads (qua ducit veri similitudo). As Griffin points out, comprehensionem refers to katalepsis, the scientific knowledge possessed by the sage. 120 She wries (2013: 254): The Stoics believed that infallible knowledge of the world was possible, and that there is a type of impression on the mind from the outside that gives its recipient a guarantee of its accuracy and commands assent. (L-S p. 258). When discussing kataleptic impressions, Sextus Empiricus writes that a kataleptic impression comes about (M 2.248, SVF 2.65), from what exists (ἀπὸ ὑπάρχοντος) and is stamped and impressed (ἐναποµεµαγµένη καὶ ἐναπεσφραγισµένη) in accordance with the very thing that exists (κατ’ αὐτὸ τὸ ὑπάρχον), and is of such a kind as could not arise from what is not (µὴ ὑπάρχοντος). 119 Cf. Ben. 6.8.3: beneficium ab iniuria distinguit non eventus sed animus. 120 Cf. Cic. Luc. 145. 83 Later he writes that a kataleptic impression is so vivid (ἐναργὴς) and overpowering (πληκτικὴ) that it “all but seizes us by the hair… and drags us to assent” (M. 2.58). 121 While Seneca claims that he will not assent only to kataleptic impressions, he states he has found nothing else through which to guide his thought (cogitationem) other than the appearances of things (species rerum) even though they can be deceptive (fallaces, Ben. 4.34.1). He explicitly claims that not true things (vera), but rather likelihood (veri simile) guides him in giving (Ben. 4.33.3). It would seem that Seneca’s advice might apply not only to judging whether or not a recipient will be grateful, but to the other activities entailed in beneficia (choosing the time to give, the recipient, the material, etc.). Impressions guide Seneca’s thinking in spite of their fallibility in light of the uncertainties and contingencies of gift exchange. Throughout De Beneficiis, Seneca seems to give voice to the rational part of the soul as it evaluates the impressions of various beneficia. According to Stoic epistemology, impressions generated either internally or by the senses strike the soul generating further impressions, usually depicted as a kind of inner dialogue. Diogenes’ description of cognition is helpful (7.49, L-S 39A): προηγεῖται γὰρ ἡ φαντασία, εἶθ’ ἡ διάνοια ἐκλαλητικὴ ὑπάρχουσα, ὃ πάσχει ὑπὸ τῆς φαντασίας, τοῦτο ἐκφέρει λόγῳ. The impression arises first, and then thought, which has the power of expression, conveys in language what it experiences as a result of the impression. Seneca’s thinking in De Beneficiis seems to suggest this process: an impression generated by the raw material of a beneficium strikes the soul spurring further impressions in the form of internal 121 Griffin 2013: 254 points to the anecdote of Sphaerus and the pomegranates (D.L. 7.177) to indicate that the Sage will sometimes assent to merely reasonable impressions. 84 speech. 122 Seneca seems perform this internal speech in his model responses to beneficia in De Beneficiis. When discussing the fact that a gift given to anyone earns no gratitude, he cites the examples of the innkeeper or tavern keeper who provide rooms to any paying guest. In response to a non-beneficium of this sort he writes that one could say to himself (Ben. 1.14.1), “What indeed has he conferred upon me? Clearly the same thing he conferred upon someone hardly well known by him and someone who was even his enemy, a most base man. Did he really deem me worthy (dignum)? He only indulged his vice (Morbo suo morem gessit)!” Throughout the whole text, Seneca habitually interprets various beneficia, not infrequently in direct speech. 123 Seneca elsewhere notes that jealousy leads one to compare his gift with another’s. He gives the interpretation to which jealousy leads: “He offered this to me, but he gave him more, he gave to him earlier” (“Hoc mihi praestitit, sed illi plus, sed illi maturius”, Ben. 2.28.1). A little later, he gives a series of grateful interpretations again in direct speech, noting that one should say to himself that while he ought to have received more, it was not easy for his benefactor to give more, that he had to divide his generosity among many, that this is only the beginning of his gifts, that he will go on to give more frequently, etc. 124 After Seneca enjoins Liberalis not to remind or reproach an ingrate, he says that “our actions will speak while we are silent” (res loquentur nobis tacentibus, Ben. 2.11.6). Seneca sometimes seems to be reading gifts 122 Epictetus dramatizes this process when he writes, “Wait a little for me, impression: allow me to see who you are and what you are about. I will put you to the test” (ἔκδεξαί µε µικρόν, φαντασία· ἄφες ἴδω τίς εἶ καὶ περὶ τίνος, ἄφες σε δοκιµάσω, Epictetus 2.18.24). Cf. Epictetus 3.12.15: ἔκδεξαι, ἄφες ἴδω, τίς εἶ καὶ πόθεν ἔρχῃ. 123 E.g. Ben. 1.9.1, 2.18.8-21.6, 3.23.1-27.4, 5.16.1-6. 124 “Plus accipere debui, sed illi facile non fuit plus dare; in multos dividenda liberalitas erat; hoc initium est, boni consulamus et animum eius grate excipiendo evocemus; parum fecit, sed saepius faciet; illum mihi praetulit, et me multis; ille non est mihi par virtutibus nec officiis, sed habuit suam Venerem; querendo non efficiam, ut maioribus dignus sim, sed ut datis indignus. Plura illis hominibus turpissimis data sunt; quid ad rem?”, Ben. 2.28.1-2. Hosius extends the quotation marks further, though, as is so often the case, it is difficult to tell where the speech ends. 85 or giving voice to their meaning(s). Seneca habitually verbalizes the meaning of beneficia, whether in the course of evaluating exempla or providing model interpretations himself. Seneca implicitly associates his text with the unreliable appearances of beneficia and their recipients, which require interpretation. Near the conclusion of book 2, Seneca remarks upon the fact that there are far more things than words (plures esse res quam verba). He notes there’s great abundance of things without a name (Ingens copia est rerum sine nomine), which we denote not with their own names (non propriis adpellationibus) but with ones foreign and borrowed (alienis commodatisque). He goes on to note that a bed, a sail, and a song all have a foot (pedem). Likewise, a dog (canem) is a hound, a sea-animal, and a star (Ben. 2.34.2). He claims that we call brave (fortem) both a gladiator and worthless slave (servum nequam) whose rashness forces him to scorn death (in contemptum mortis temeritas inpulit, Ben. 2.34.3). Seneca notes that though there is an immeasurable difference between moderation and stinginess (infinitum intersit inter modum et angustias), we nonetheless call people possessing either quality frugal (parcissimum, Ben. 2.34.4). By the same logic, Seneca asserts a beneficium is both an action, and the gift itself given through that action (quod datur per illam actionem). Seneca notes that though both possess the same name (unum utrique nomen est), there is a great difference between their meaning and import (unum utrique nomen est, vis quidem ac potestas longe alia, Ben. 2.34.5). This claim has broad consequences for De Beneficiis: whenever Seneca discusses beneficia, does he mean the material given through the action, the action itself, or, as he asserted programmatically in the first book, the will of the giver? In fact, Seneca later asserts that both material and will need to come together to bring about a beneficium (beneficium non habeo, quod consummat et res et animus, Ben. 6.11.3). What does Seneca mean or intend at any point when he uses the term beneficium? Readers might simply throw up their hands in response 86 to the conundrums and contradictions of the text or just accuse Seneca of inconsistency. Yet such a response overlooks the possibility that Seneca is teaching in between the lines of his text. Through the cryptic rhetoric of the text, Seneca could be read as drawing his readers into an inferential mode of thinking comparable to the inferential mode of thought required in gift exchange. If Seneca is inconsistent, it is perhaps at the very least strategic inconsistency. Seneca himself sometimes decodes his own unreliable claims. Near the beginning of the text, Seneca refers to the beneficium as a type of creditum. 125 However, later in the work, in response to his interlocutor’s designation of the beneficium as a creditum insolubile, Seneca responds that, “when we say ‘loan’, we use a figure, a metaphor” (Cum creditum dicimus, imagine et translatione utimur) and offers the further clarification “when I say a loan, a quasi- loan is understood (cum dico creditum, intellegitur tamquam creditum, Ben. 4.12.1). It is perhaps not a coincidence that Seneca refers to his own expression as an imago, in light of its semantic overlap with the word species. Seneca’s text, like the signs of the gift, require active interpretation. Seneca draws a comparison between giving and farming in the opening of the text: he writes that the most common reason for ingratitude is that we do not choose worthy recipients to whom to give (non eligimus dignos, quibus tribuamus, Ben. 1.1.2). Later, Seneca compares the persistence of the farmer in cultivating crops to a giver who adds every form of kindness to his gifts. 126 Yet Seneca emphatically denies, or at the very least stringently qualifies, his use of the comparison to farming, since, as he notes no one cultivates a field or performs any other such act out of a sense of fairness and goodness, when the reward lies beyond the deed 125 Id enim genus huius crediti est, ex quo tantum recipiendum sit, quantum ultro refertur, Ben. 1.1.3. 126 nihil in fructum pervenit, quod non a primo usque ad extremum aequalis cultura prosequitur. Eadem beneficiorum condicio est, Ben. 2.11.4-5; Sed huic ipsi beneficium dabo iterum et tamquam bonus agricola cura cultuque sterilitatem soli vincam, Ben. 7.32. 87 itself. 127 Seneca’s use of the metaphor of the farmer is hardly static. In other words, one both ought to give and ought not to give in the way that a farmer cultivates a field. The meaning of the comparison varies according to the situation. Seneca offers an interpretation of his own text emphatically in the last book of the work. He claims that when you are commanding someone in whom you have little faith, you ought to use hyperbole so that the one commanded puts forth an adequate effort (Ben. 7.23.1); Seneca himself uses such exaggerated instruction in his speech given in the voice of Demetrius. 128 Seneca’s text is not reliable. Like the gifts that Seneca describes and interprets, his meaning and intent is not always obvious. Seneca claims repeatedly that one ought to forget as soon as one has given, though now Seneca suggests those claims were unreliable signa. 129 His riddling, contradictory text often seems to suggest that the reader could be missing a hidden meaning, which might be supplied through forms of interpretation comparable to those entailed in gift exchange. It is worth pointing out that Seneca also interprets the speech of others along the same lines. In a dialogue between Aeschines and Socrates, Seneca has Aeschines claim, “‘Therefore, I give to you the one thing that I possess: myself’” (‘Itaque dono tibi, quod unum habeo, me ipsum’). He goes on to ask that Socrates think well of it (‘boni consulas’) and reminds him that while others may have given him a great deal, they have more left for themselves (‘plus sibi reliquisse’, Ben. 1.8.1). Seneca has Socrates claim in response that Aeschines has given him a great gift (assuming he does not put a low value on himself, ‘nisi forte te parvo aestimas?’) and that he will return to him the gift in better condition than he received it (‘te meliorem tibi reddam, quam accepi’). Seneca concludes that Aeschines surpassed Alcibiades, whose devotion 127 Nemo ad agrum colendum ex aequo et bono venit nec ad ullam rem, cuius extra ipsam fructus est, Ben. 4.14.3. 128 See 1.C. above. On hyperbole specifically, see p. 48. 129 Cf. Ben. 2.6.2, 2.10.4, 2.17.7. 88 matched his wealth (parem divitiis animum), and all the bounty of the wealthy youths (omnem iuvenum opulentorum munificentiam, Ben. 1.8.2). He offers an additional interpretation of Aeschines’ gift. Seneca writes (Ben. 1.9.1), He seems to me to have said (Videtur mihi dixisse), “Fortune, you have done nothing by having wished me to be poor; I will find for this man a gift no less worthy (dignum nihilo minus huic viro munus), and because I am not able give from your possessions, I will give from my own (de meo dabo).” Seneca voices the meaning underlying Aeschines’ words and his gift. Seneca implies that there was a second, moral meaning to Aeschines’ words based on his indifference to fortune. Much later in the work, Seneca again assumes the voice of Socrates. Socrates’ instruction of Archelaus in book 5 is in many ways a model of this broader Senecan instruction. The subject of Socrates’ speech is the interpretation of species rerum, the appearances of things (Ben. 5.6.4- 6). After complimenting the generosity of Liberalis, Seneca offers a critique of the saying that it is shameful to be outdone in benefits (turpe esse beneficiis vinci), one of Liberalis’s favorite sayings (Ben. 5.2.1). Seneca goes on to explain that it is not shameful to be outdone in benefits since the pursuit is honorable 130 and that, in fact, if one’s intentions match his benefactor’s (alter autem voluntate par est), then he is no more defeated (non magis victus est) than a loyal soldier who refuses to be turned by the enemy (Ben. 5.2.3). Later he claims if you consider a good giver and recipient according solely to their intention, neither wins. 131 He claims that in fact no one is conquered in benefits if he knows how to owe and wishes to repay (Ergo nemo vinci potest beneficiis, si scit debere, si vult referre, Ben. 5.4.1). However, he qualifies his response by noting 130 Numquam enim in rerum honestarum certamine superari turpe est, Ben. 5.2.1 131 si dantem et accipientem conparaveris, quorum animi et per se aestimandi sunt, penes neutrum erit palma, Ben. 5.3.4. 89 that there are some who are so far beyond want that they barely experience any human desires. 132 He cites Socrates and Diogenes the Cynic, who walked naked through Macedonian wealth and trampled upon the riches of the king. Seneca claims that it is not shameful to be outdone by men such as these (Non est turpe ab his vinci, Ben. 5.5.1). Seneca returns to consider those superhuman philosophers who cannot be outdone in beneficia a little later in the book. Seneca recounts an anecdote about King Archelaus’s invitation to Socrates to visit him, which he refused on the grounds that he would not be able to return equal benefits (reddere illi paria non posset, Ben. 5.6.2). Seneca does not buy this explanation. He notes first that Socrates could have visited him and refused his gifts; second he would have preempted Archelaus’s gift through visiting him, a worthy gift in and of itself. 133 Further, Seneca notes that Socrates simply could have given his thanks (gratias) for Archelaus’s gift in the place of material compensation. Finally, Seneca points out that whatever Archelaus would have given would not have been as great as what Socrates would have given him, namely a man knowledgeable about life and death, the teloi of both (vitae ac mortis peritum utriusque fines tenentem), and admission into the nature of things (ad rerum naturam admisisset), while Archelaus was wandering (errantem) in ignorance (ignarum, Ben. 5.6.3). Seneca treats Socrates’ refusal as an ambiguous sign, which requires further interpretation, like countless other species rerum. Seneca sets the scene for Socrates’ speech, explaining that the king had been filled with superstitious terror at an eclipse (quo die solis defectio fuit) and as a result closed himself up in his palace (regiam cluderet) and also sheared his son’s hair (filium… tonderet). Seneca 132 At sunt quidam extra omnem subducti cupiditatem, qui vix ullis humanis desideriis continguntur, Ben. 5.4.3. See 1.C. on Demetrius. 133 Primum in ipsius potestate erat non accipere; deinde ipse dare beneficium prior incipiebat, veniebat enim rogatus et id dabat, quod utique ille non erat Socrati redditurus, Ben. 5.6.2. 90 introduces the hypothetical speech, exclaiming how great a beneficium it would have been if he had dragged him from the shadows (e latebris suis) and ordered him to have a sane mind (bonum animum habere iussisset, Ben. 5.6.4). Seneca’s introduction to the speech is rich with the language of religious initiation. He is at once dragging him out of the shadows of his palace and at a more figurative or abstract level dispelling the shadows of his mind, i.e. his ignorance. In this hypothetical speech, Seneca claims Socrates would have said that the eclipse does not indicate a disappearance of the sun (Non est ista solis defectio), but rather is a conjunction of two heavenly bodies (duorum siderum coitus) as the moon, racing on a lower path, places its disc between the earth and the sun, thereby obscuring it with its interposition (illum obiectu sui abscondit, Ben. 5.6.4). He goes on to explain that the moon sometimes obscures a small part of the sun, as if brushing in passing, sometimes it covers more, interposing the greater part of itself, and sometimes it covers the view of the whole (totius adspectum), if it has advanced in the middle between the sun and the earth in a straight line (si recto libramento inter solem terrasque media successit, Ben. 5.6.4). He goes on to explain that already the speed of these heavenly bodies will start drawing them in different directions (iam ista sidera hoc et illo diducet velocitas sua) and that the lands will receive the sun again. Socrates moves from the current moment to all time, when he claims that this order (ordo) will proceed through the ages (per saecula) and will maintain these prescribed (dispositos) and appointed (praedictos) days on which the sun is prevented from pouring forth its rays (radios effundere) on account of the interposition of the moon. He beckons Archelaus to wait a little; already it will leave behind this cloud-like cover (velut nubem), already freed (exsolutus) from obstacles (impedimentis) it will freely send forth its light (Ben. 5.6.5). Taken as a whole, Seneca’s Socrates gives a rationalizing, scientific explanation meant to dispel Archelaus’ false, terror-inducing interpretation of the image. 91 Other authorities refer to similar accounts. Aristotle cursorily alludes to Socrates’ refusal in the Rhetoric (2.23.8, 1398a24) as does Marcus Aurelius, though he apparently mistakes Perdiccas for Archelaus (11.25). 134 Plutarch recounts a similar anecdote with Pericles in the place of Socrates and notes that the story was common in philosophical schools (Per. 35). Two perhaps more interesting points of comparison occur in Cicero’s De Re Publica. The dialogue proper begins with speculation about a double sun. Philus goes on to recount an anecdote in which Gaius Sulpicius Gallus disabused his army camp of superstitious fear generated by an eclipse through consultation with a celestial globe, which indicated the regular movements of the heavens (Rep. 1.21-24). Scipio in turn recounts a similar story about Pericles, who disabused the fear of his soldiers (Rep. 1.25). Seneca is perhaps updating for the principate these stories from Republican Rome and Democratic Athens respectively through having Socrates disabuse a fearful autocrat. It is plausible that Seneca might also be inviting comparison between himself and Cicero. Depending on the date of composition (sometime between 56-64), Seneca might be associating his turn to philosophy during his retirement with Cicero’s turn to philosophy after Caesar sidelined him politically. This link remains only speculative, given that the scene may have been something of a topos in philosophical schools. It would seem likely, however, that Seneca insinuates a comparison between his efforts to educate Nero through philosophy and Socrates’ speech eliminating the king’s irrational terror. Plato’s Republic is perhaps a more significant intertext. Seneca’s language evokes the famous analogies and allegories of the fifth and sixth books of the Republic. Seneca seems to mix the Analogy of the Sun (507b-509c), the Analogy of the Divided Line (509d-511e), and the Allegory of the Cave (514a-520a) in the anecdote. The movement of the moon past the rays of 134 Cf. D.L. 2.25. On Marcus’s mistake, see Griffin 2013: 267. 92 the sun and the fact that Archelaus confuses the obstruction of the sun for its disappearance might remind the reader of the Allegory of the Cave, in which the prisoners mistake shadows for reality. 135 Seneca depicts Socrates dragging Archelaus out of the shadows of the palace (e latebris suis, 5.6.4), just as Plato describes one forcibly leading the prisoners out of the cave. 136 By the end of the passage, Seneca implies an association between Archelaus’s mental state and the light he sees. 137 Seneca suggests that Archelaus is moving out of the world of the shadows to gaze upon the sun, which Plato compares to the form of the good. 138 The anecdote seems to parallel loosely the journey of the philosopher out of the shadowy cave into the light. The straight line, which the planets form, arguably invites comparison to Plato’s Divided Line. Socrates guides Archelaus from the visible to the intelligible realms through the interpretation of an image. 139 In spite of the Seneca’s predominantly Stoic take on epistemology in De Beneficiis, here he finds a point of overlap with Platonic epistemology: according to both philosophies, one makes inferences about the invisible based on the visible. However, in spite of the Platonic flavor of the passage, one should not exclude the possibility that Seneca is adumbrating a more explicitly Stoic connection between the soul of Archelaus and the orderly procession of the planets as well. Through associating the movement of moon past the sun with Socrates’ 135 Παντάπασι δή, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, οἱ τοιοῦτοι οὐκ ἂν ἄλλο τι νοµίζοιεν τὸ ἀληθὲς ἢ τὰς τῶν σκευαστῶν σκιάς, Plat. Rep. 515c. 136 Εἰ δέ, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, ἐντεῦθεν ἕλκοι τις αὐτὸν βίᾳ διὰ τραχείας τῆς ἀναβάσεως καὶ ἀνάντους, καὶ µὴ ἀνείη πρὶν ἐξελκύσειεν εἰς τὸ τοῦ ἡλίου φῶς, ἆρα οὐχὶ ὀδυνᾶσθαί τε ἂν καὶ ἀγανακτεῖν ἑλκόµενον, καὶ ἐπειδὴ πρὸς τὸ φῶς ἔλθοι, αὐγῆς ἂν ἔχοντα τὰ ὄµµατα µεστὰ ὁρᾶν οὐδ’ ἂν ἓν δύνασθαι τῶν νῦν λεγοµένων ἀληθῶν; Plat. Rep. 515e-516a. 137 Καὶ µετὰ ταῦτ’ ἂν ἤδη συλλογίζοιτο περὶ αὐτοῦ ὅτι οὗτος ὁ τάς τε ὥρας παρέχων καὶ ἐνιαυτοὺς καὶ πάντα ἐπιτροπεύων τὰ ἐν τῷ ὁρωµένῳ τόπῳ, καὶ ἐκείνων ὧν σφεῖς ἑώρων τρόπον τινὰ πάντων αἴτιος,, Plat. Rep. 516b-c. 138 Τοῦτον τοίνυν, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, φάναι µε λέγειν τὸν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἔκγονον, ὃν τἀγαθὸν ἐγέννησεν ἀνάλογον ἑαυτῷ, ὅτιπερ αὐτὸ ἐν τῷ νοητῷ τόπῳ πρός τε νοῦν καὶ τὰ νοούµενα, τοῦτο τοῦτον ἐν τῷ ὁρατῷ πρός τε ὄψιν καὶ τὰ ὁρώµενα, Plat. Rep. 508b-c. 139 See Plat. Rep. 517a-c. 93 instruction of Archelaus, Seneca perhaps suggests the reestablishment of a pneumatic connection or a re-harmonization between the mind of Archelaus and the sun. Upon concluding the speech, Seneca resumes voicing his doubts about Socrates’ claim that he would not have been able to repay Archelaus equal gifts. He asks, “Why did Socrates say this (i.e. refuse Archelaus)?” (Quare ergo hoc Socrates dixit?). He gives the explanation that Socrates was a clever (facetus) man whose speech proceeded through figures (per figuras sermo procederet) and was a mocker (derisor) of all, especially the powerful, so he refused satirically (nasute) rather than defiantly and pridefully (contumaciter aut superbe, Ben. 5.6.6). Seneca speculates that he did not wish to be compelled to receive gifts unworthy of Socrates. 140 He raises the possibility again that he could have refused, though Seneca explains that this might have incurred the wrath of the king. Finally, concluding the anecdote, Seneca asks Liberalis, “Do you wish to know what he truly intended?” (Vis scire, quid vere voluerit?, Ben. 5.6.7), to which he answers that “he, whose freedom not even a free state could endure, refused to enter voluntary servitude!” (Noluit ire ad voluntariam servitutem is, cuius libertatem civitas libera ferre non potuit!, Ben. 5.6.7). In essence, Seneca concludes that Socrates did not want to enter into a relationship with Archelaus based on the exchange of beneficia because he did not want to lose his freedom. In the anecdote, Seneca implants enigmas within enigmas. Seneca interprets Socrates’ enigmatic refusal of Archelaus’s invitation in the way he interprets scores of other ambiguous exempla throughout De Beneficiis. Socrates’ words, like impressions of gifts and recipients require interpretation. Seneca’s claim that his speech proceeds through figuras is especially significant. On the one hand, figura designates Socratic irony, i.e “A form of speech departing 140 Timuit fortasse, ne cogeretur accipere, quae nollet, timuit, ne quid indignum Socrate accipere, Ben. 5.6.6-7. 94 from the straightforward and obvious” (OLD 11). This would seem to be the clear, surface-level meaning of figura in this instance. However, Seneca’s speech impersonating Socrates is also filled with imagery and in that sense he proceeds through figuras, i.e. images (OLD 8) and arrangements, especially of stars (OLD 7). Figuras can also mean “outward appearances (as opp. to real nature)” (OLD 5), the subject of both Seneca’s speech and the passages of Plato with which it resonates. The final meaning of figura that might be relevant is “an oblique mode of expression, insinuation, innuendo, etc.” (OLD 11b). This meaning might be relevant insofar as the image itself seems to symbolize the gift. The shadow of the moon might be read as a symbol of the signum of the gift more generally, which one must interpret in order to understand its meaning. One might recognize continuity even between Socrates’ speech and Seneca’s text, insofar as the word figura itself could be read as conveying different meanings and demands further inference. Seneca’s writing, like Socrates’ speech, moves through figuras. Seneca’s Socrates continues his author’s figural discourse, even as he interprets enigmatic signs like the reader of Seneca’s text. 2.B. Harmony with Reason: The Speech of Ratio in Ep. 84 Seneca’s language in Epistle 84 likewise evokes the Stoic theory of impressions. Throughout the letter, Seneca insinuates a comparison between the reception of impressions within the mind and the appropriation of others’ writings. Seneca compares the imitation and appropriation of others’ texts to a chorus, which, though comprised of many voices, results in a single voice. Voices of different pitches (high, low, and middle) and different genders come 95 together with the flute and other instruments to make a harmony out of paradoxically discordant sounds (Ep. 84.9-10). 141 He claims (Ep. 84.10), I wish that our mind be of just such a quality (Talem animum esse nostrum volo): let many arts (artes), many precepts (praecepta), and exempla from many ages (multarum aetatum exempla) reside therein, but be harmonized into one (in unum conspirata). The word conspirata might carry Stoic connotations. It is possible that Seneca thinks that the elements one appropriates from other authors ought to “breath” together like impressions within the hegemonikon. In other words, our minds, like our texts, like the chorus, ought to be harmoniously disposed. Elsewhere in the letter Seneca’s language evokes the theory of impressions more specifically (Ep. 84.7): Adsentiamur illis fideliter et nostra faciamus, ut unum quiddam fiat ex multis, sicut unus numerus fit ex singulis cum minores summas et dissidentes conputatio una conprendit. Let us assent to those things in good faith and make them our own, so that a particular, single entity is produced from many, just as a single number comes from discrete numbers, when a single calculation includes lesser and differing sums. Adsentiamur is perhaps a loaded word in the context of Seneca’s Stoicism. Seneca might again be referring to the activity of the hegemonikon, which assents or withholds assent to various impressions. Seneca might be insinuating a comparison between this activity of the mind and literary appropriation. He might also have in mind a comparison between the cultivation of one’s text and the cultivation of one’s virtue. The Stoics famously claimed that to have any one of the cardinal virtues or to be virtuous generally speaking entailed possessing all virtues. 142 Like the virtuous soul, which holds within itself many virtues or a calculation of several numbers adding 141 Non vides quam multorum vocibus chorus constet? unus tamen ex omnibus redditur. Aliqua illic acuta est, aliqua gravis, aliqua media; accedunt viris feminae, interponuntur tibiae: singulorum illic latent voces, omnium apparent, Ep. 84.9. One can perhaps see a figure for Seneca’s sometimes eclectic doxography. See Donini 1988: 25-33 and Inwood 2005: 23-64. 142 See L-S 61 C-F. As Seneca himself writes, “Nam quemadmodum aliquis et poeta est et orator, et tamen unus, sic virtutes istae animalia sunt sed multa non sunt. Idem est animus et animus et iustus et prudens et fortis, ad singulas virtutes quodam modo se habens”, Ep. 113.24. 96 up to a single number, one’s text ought to be a singular entity even if comprised of many others. Unlike De Beneficiis, Seneca’s concern is not with the interpretation of impressions per se: rather he is concerned that they are absorbed within the mind and how literary texts model this process of absorption. After explaining that his journeys counterbalance the laziness (pigrum) induced by his love of literature (litterarum amor), Seneca notes that reading nourishes the mind (Alit lectio ingenium, Ep. 84.1). He compares the imitation of sources to the digestion of food (Ep. 84.5-6): food, that we received, as long as it endures in its own state (in sua qualitate) and floats as firm (solida) material in our stomach, is a burden; but, when it has been changed (mutata) from what it was, only then does it pass into our muscles and blood (in vires et in sanguinem transeunt). Like the food transformed into blood and muscle, the texts the reader/writer appropriates ought to conform to his own words. Appropriated material ought to form a continuous whole with the imitator’s words. He explains whatever we drink (hausimus) ought not remain whole lest it remain distinct from us (ne aliena sint, Ep. 84.6). He beckons us to digest those things (concoquamus) so that they do go not into memory, but rather into our ingenium (Ep. 84.7). Ingenium could be plausibly translated as mental powers or literary inspiration. Seneca uses the same metaphor in De Beneficiis in order to describe a related, though distinct process. In describing the misinterpretation of beneficia by a bad judge, Seneca writes, (Ben. 5.12.6), In the same way that a stomach, corrupted by sickness and amassing bile, changes (mutat) whatever food it receives and converts all nourishment into a cause of grief (omne alimentum in causam doloris trahit), so the misguided mind (animus scaevus) makes (facit) whatever you have entrusted to it its own burden (onus suum), its own ruin, and its own occasion for woe. 97 Though Seneca uses the metaphor of digestion in both places in order to describe impressions made on the mind, his emphasis in each passage is different. In the first passage, he is concerned that our minds actually do absorb impressions, such that they become part of us. In the second he is not concerned that our minds absorb impressions per se: rather, he is emphasizing how the mind ought to interpret impressions. In spite of some shared preoccupations and imagery, Seneca’s engagement with the topic of impressions varies according to the didactic preoccupations of each work. By way of citation of Vergil, 143 Seneca exhorts Lucilius to imitate bees, which blend together (mixtura) the flowers that they pluck (carpunt) arrange and distribute into their cells (Ep. 84.3). He encourages Lucilius to blend together what he reads with what he writes, so that even if the source imitated is recognizable, the imitation is nonetheless different. 144 He describes the honey-making process, noting that it is not certain whether honey is simply juice from flowers that bees extract or whether the bees change (mutent) what they have gathered with a property of their breath (proprietate spiritus sui). The breath of the bees anticipates Seneca’s injunction that the mind ought to harmonize (conspirata) many arts, precepts, and exempla into one, presumably so that they breath together in the hegemonikon. Seneca goes on to expand upon the first theory, noting that some authorities do not believe bees have the knowledge (scientiam) of making honey and a sweet liquid resembling honey sometimes appears directly on reeds in both India and Rome. He notes that other authorities believe that bees use fermentation (fermento) in order to combine diverse elements into one (in unum diversa coalescunt, Ep. 84.4). He exhorts Lucilius to apply the attention (cura) and skill (facultate) of his mind (ingenium) to 143 liquentia mella / Stipant et dulci distendunt nectare cellas (A. 1.432-33). 144 Apes, ut aiunt, debemus imitari, quae vagantur et flores ad mel faciendum idoneos carpunt, deinde quidquid attulere disponunt ac per favos digerunt, Ep. 84.3. 98 blend together diverse tastes (varia illa libamenta) into one flavor (in unum saporem, Ep. 84.5), precisely like the bees according to one theory. The bees model how we ought to sample different texts, ideally creating a new flavor out of a mix of influences. Seneca’s imagined interlocutor interjects to ask how this literary and mental harmony is to be brought about (‘Quomodo… hoc effici poterit?’), to which he answers that it is by doing nothing unless at Reason’s persuasion (ratione suadente). He then gives the speech that Reason will give if Lucilius lends her his ear (Hanc si audire volueris, dicet tibi… Ep. 84.11). Gummere puts quotation marks in the English after “you” (tibi), but not in the Latin text. Reynolds, Motto 1985: 225, and Usher 2006: 10 also omit quotation marks. Seneca’s use of the future indicative implies a high degree of conviction as to the words she will say. The words are not given in indirect discourse. In spite of the fact that few editors have included appropriate punctuation, Seneca does seem to be writing in the voice of Reason, though it is not clear just how long he remains in her voice. If we bear in mind the likely possibility that Ratio designates the Stoic logos, then Seneca might be adumbrating the harmony between his mind and the divine reason immanent within nature through verbal congruence. His words, his logos, are in harmony with Stoic logos to the degree that there is no distinction. Reason goes on to command Lucilius in the mode of a suasoria to abandon (relinque… relinque… relinque) wealth, pleasures of the body and mind, and ambition in accordance with the Stoic doctrine of preferred indifferents, perhaps Seneca’s most frequent philosophical preoccupation. 145 Gummere ends the quotation at the end of section 11 in the English text, 145 relinque ista iamdudum ad quae discurritur; relinque divitias, aut periculum possidentium aut onus; relinque corporis atque animi voluptates, molliunt et enervant; relinque ambitum, tumida res est, vana, ventosa, nullum habet terminum, tam sollicita est ne quem ante se videat quam ne secum, laborat invidia et quidem duplici. Vides autem quam miser sit si is cui invidetur et invidet, Ep. 84.11. 99 though there is no clear marker where Reason’s speech ends and Seneca’s voice resumes. As if to illustrate the verbal blending characteristic of his aesthetic ideals in the letter, the speech that Seneca performs in the voice of Reason blends together with his own. Seneca’s use of the word conspirata above in section 11 is rendered more concrete and tangible in his fictio personae, as if he were depicting himself and Reason speaking with the same breath (con + spiro), albeit proleptically (these are words that Reason will say). Perhaps the reader, like the bees according to one theory, will add his or her breath to Reason and Seneca’s words as they read them aloud or appropriate them in a new text. In this small way, the text illustrates the principle of organic unity that it describes, much in the same way that Seneca’s quotation of Vergil both demonstrates and describes his ideals of imitation. 146 The speech evinces the harmony characteristic of Seneca’s aesthetic and ethical ideals in the letter. Seneca, still perhaps in Reason’s voice, recounts the daily rituals of clients’ visitations to wealthy patrons. He (or Ratio) advises Lucilius to pass by (praeteri) the steps of the wealthy and their entranceways unsettled with the great collection of visitors (magno adgestu suspensa vestibula, Ep. 84.12). The advice becomes more figurative. Seneca (or Ratio) beckons Lucilius to direct himself towards wisdom (ad sapeientiam). He notes that whatever is preeminent in human affairs (Quaecumque videntur eminere in rebus humanis) is approached only by difficult and steep paths (per difficiles… et arduos tramites adeuntur). He notes the path (via) to excellence is difficult (confragosa). However, he promises that if you scale the summit below which Fortune places herself (cui se fortuna summisit), then you will look down (aspicies) upon all that is 146 Buffa Giolito 1997 writes of Seneca’s quotation of Vergil, “In questo caso, come in molti altri, i versi virgiliani, avulsi dal loro contesto e trasferiti talora in argomentazioni filosofiche, hanno efficacia icastica e funzionano come similitudine e metafora, con notevole effetto di straniamento quanto più distanti sono i concetti dei due testi che si sovrappongono e si fondono” (74). 100 considered most lofty (excelsissimis). Paradoxically, Seneca notes that you will come to these heights by way of a level plane (per planum, Ep. 84.12-13). At the risk of over-interpretation, the lack of firm distinction between voices could be read as evoking the level plane upon which advances towards wisdom. The smooth transition between the voices, if there even is one, is arguably suggestive of the smoothness of the path. 147 What started as disregard for conventional markers of social esteem (the visible display of wealth and patronage) takes on an allegorical dimension as a movement towards wisdom. While the wealthy literally look down upon their patrons, the wise man looks down from his figurative perch high above the vacillations of fortune. The speech seems to enact the process of digestion that Seneca describes. Itinera is the first word of the text. Seneca notes that his journeys shake out his laziness (segnitiam mihi excutiunt) and benefit his health and studies (valetudini meae prodesse iudico et studiis, Ep. 84.1). While he does not use the same words, Seneca returns to the theme of the journey at the end of the letter in his description of the difficult way (via) and the movement up the steep paths (tramites). The return to the theme of the journey with which the letter began suggests a ring composition. Seneca’s walks to shake out the laziness caused by reading alone might be a movement towards wisdom similar to the one described by Reason. Reason, if she still speaks, can be read as lending Seneca’s walk new figurative and allegorical dimensions We might note a point of similarity between the alimentary processes he discusses throughout the letter and Seneca’s recasting of his walk in the letter’s coda. His opening journeys 147 One should bear in mind that the comparison between the course of a literary text and a journey is common in Latin didactic. See Volk 2002: 20-24. 101 can be read as material or “food” that is transformed in the course of composing the text. 148 Seneca shows just how the mind ought to receive and reorder impressions through Reason’s transfiguration of material written in his own voice. Inasmuch as Seneca demonstrates his aesthetic ideal through blending his and Reason’s voices, so too does Reason deepen and expand upon Seneca’s material, enacting the process of imitation that the letter describes. 149 The multilayered interrelations between parts of the text, Reason’s speech and the body of the text as well as the opening journey and concluding journey, arguably speak more loudly than any one of Seneca’s explicit injunctions. Through writing his instruction into the literary design of the text, Seneca performs a literary process comparable to the one he describes, which in turn is a model of the mind’s reception of impressions. Seneca creates a unified textual whole as a paradigm of the mind in agreement with Reason vis-à-vis the impressions it receives. While Seneca’s primary concern in De Beneficiis had been the interpretation of impressions, here he is far more interested in how impressions become part of the self and how literary texts, including his own, model this process. 2.C. Teacher, Student, and Reader: The Speeches of Attalus and Sotion in Ep. 108 Seneca takes up the metaphor of digestion again in Epistle 108, which also concerns the reading of texts. 150 The letter has attracted attention on account of the fact that it provides an 148 It is important to remember that Seneca describes the imitation of others’ texts not as one-to- one copying, but as a process of creative assimilation. As Seneca enjoins Lucilius, Ep. 84.7, Hoc faciat animus noster: omnia quibus est adiutus abscondat, ipsum tantum ostendat quod effecit. Etiam si cuius in te comparebit similitudo quem admiratio tibi altius fixerit, similem esse te volo quomodo filium, non quomodo imaginem. The whole point is that there should not be an exact similarity. 149 Buffa Giolito 1997: 67-88 has elegantly shown that Seneca’s frequent use of anaphora and polyptoton create echoes at the level of the sentence, which are similar to the kinds of resemblances Seneca describes between source and imitation. 150 Ep. 108.24-37. 102 unusual amount of biographical information on Seneca’s education. 151 The tendency towards biographical interpretation, however, has perhaps led scholars to overlook how and why Seneca embeds autobiographical material in the letter the way he does. In the opening of Epistle 108, Seneca assures Lucilius that his books of moral philosophy will come soon, though he encourages him to take a moderate approach towards his education. He explains that philosophy ought to be approached gradually. He writes (Ep. 108.2). Nec passim carpenda sunt nec avide invadenda universa: per partes pervenietur ad totum. Aptari onus viribus debet nec plus occupari quam cui sufficere possimus. Non quantum vis sed quantum capis hauriendum est. Bonum tantum habe animum: capies quantum voles. Quo plus recipit animus, hoc se magis laxat. Complete things should neither be snatched at random nor greedily taken into possession: one will arrive at the whole through the parts. The burden ought to suit our strength and no more should be seized than what we are capable of managing. Not as much as you wish, but as much as you can accept should be drunk up. Just maintain a good attitude: you will accept as much as you wish. The more the mind receives, the more it expands. Seneca stresses moderation when approaching new material. The notion that texts are akin to food or drink is certainly familiar from Ep. 84. 152 When he writes that the more the mind receives, the more it expands, he might have in mind the quality of magnitudo animi, the greatness of soul characteristic of the sage. 153 Repetition and parallelism within the passage lend the educational process an air of reciprocity (quantum… quantum… tantum… quantum… quo plus… magis), a significant point in light of the fact that Seneca reveals it was actually Attalus who said these things (Haec nobis praecipere Attalum memini, Ep. 108.3). Is Seneca writing Attalus’s words verbatim or paraphrasing them? Insofar as Seneca is a model student, the distinction perhaps does not matter: Attalus’s teaching has made an impression on Seneca’s mind 151 On Attalus see Ep. 67.14-15 in which he cites Attalus among Epicurus and the Cynic Demetrius. Cf. Ep. 9.7, 63.5, 73.8, 81.22; NQ 2.48.2, 2.50.1. For more information about Seneca’s teachers see Sellars 2014: 97-112 and Inwood: 2005: 7-22. 152 Note the use of the word carpo in both contexts (Ep. 84.3). 153 On magnitudo animi in the philosophical tradition, see Knoche 1935. 103 and is now a part of him. He has drunk in Attalus’s instruction in the same way he has exhorted Lucilius (hauriendum est). What seemed like Seneca’s prescriptions for Lucilius’s education turn out to be an example of how those prescriptions might be carried out and how he ought to absorb Seneca/Attalus’s words. His appropriation of Attalus’s instruction suggests that one does indeed reach the whole through the parts, which is to say, that the full message of the text is communicated both in its explicit content, but also implicitly through the interrelation of its parts. Seneca then gives a speech in the voice of Attalus of indeterminate length (Ep. 108.3-4). “The purpose of the instructor and the student should be the same (Idem… et docenti et discenti debet esse propositum),” he said, “so that the one wishes to benefit (ille prodesse), the other to progress (hic proficere).” Let he who comes (venit) to a philosopher carry back (ferat) something good (boni) with him every day; either let him return (redeat) home healthier or more curable. He will return however (Redibit); the power of philosophy (philosophiae vis) is such that it helps not only students (studentes), but also their companions (conversantes). He who comes out in the sun will become tan (colorabitur), even if he did not come out for that reason. Those who have remained in a perfume shop and lingered a little too long, carry (ferunt) the scent (odorem) of the place away with them. And those who have been near a philosopher (ad philosophum), by necessity have carried away (traxerint) something that benefits (prodesset) even the negligent (neglegentibus). Pay attention to what I say (Attende quid dicam): the negligent, not the opposed. Reynolds ends the quotation at proficere though it seems at least plausible that one might extend the speech further. Seneca’s use of parallelism highlights the unity of purpose shared by the instructor and student (et docenti et discenti… ille… hic…venit… redeat… redibit). Perhaps the insertion of quotation marks is simply inappropriate in this instance. The text realizes a fusion between personae that accords with Seneca’s educative ideal. It is ambiguous where one voice ends and another begins; perhaps Seneca intended the reader to feel the instruction becoming his or her own as he or she read the text aloud. Attalus’s words become Seneca’s words, which in turn become the reader’s words. 104 Attalus refers to the instructor and student, almost like an outside observer in the situation. Seneca/Attalus speaks of the educational dynamics at work in their interaction in depersonalized terms: note he nowhere indicates that Attalus is addressing him and Attalus only discusses his role, not himself. Attalus, in essentially offering a commentary on the very interaction in which he and Seneca are engaged, suggests a proleptic awareness that his speech will be taken out of the context of the classroom and repositioned in a published text. In other words, Attalus almost seems aware of his position, out of the context of the classroom and in the context of Seneca’s text, speaking indirectly to Lucilius, perhaps just as Seneca speaks indirectly to his broader readership. The imperative concluding the passage, along with the abrupt use of the first person, can be read as a wink or a joke: is Seneca addressing Lucilius, is Attalus addressing Seneca, or is Seneca and/or Attalus addressing us? Who is the “I” of dicam? The ambiguity of the voice contributes to the depersonalized character of Attalus’s (or Seneca’s) disquisition. Even as Seneca seems to raise implicitly the possibility of Attalus addressing Lucilius through sermocinatio, he notes that philosophy benefits the conversantes as well as the studentes. Seneca seems to account for the third party status of his broader audience: Attalus, as if commenting upon Seneca’s appropriation of his teaching, notes that conversantes will also benefit from Seneca’s education as a student, perhaps referring to Lucilius. As one of the conversantes, Lucilius might be the reaper of the benefits of Seneca’s education; also, as a third party audience to Seneca’s instruction of Lucilius as well as Attalus’s instruction of Seneca, Seneca seems to imply that his broader readership might also accrue the color and odor of 105 philosophy vicariously. 154 Attalus’s relationship to Seneca is a paradigm for his relationship to Lucilius: in turn, Attalus’s relationship to Lucilius is a paradigm for the broader readership’s relationship to Seneca, though his readership too has a relationship with Attalus that seems as direct (or indirect) as Lucilius’s. Later in the text in the midst of castigations against teachers who do not live up to what they preach, Seneca exhorts Lucilius to change his words into deeds. 155 He notes that a teacher who does not live up to his words is as useless as a sick pilot in the midst of a storm (Ep. 108.37). In the midst of this pragmatic posturing, Seneca makes a claim, which might shed at least some light on his appropriation of Attalus’s voice. Rebuking philosophers who just talk, he writes (Ep. 108.38): Omnia quae dicunt, quae turba audiente iactant, aliena sunt: dixit illa Platon, dixit Zenon, dixit Chrysippus et Posidonius et ingens agmen nominum tot ac talium. All the words which they say, which they hurl while the crowd listens, are another’s; Plato spoke them, Zeno spoke them, Chrysippus and Posidonius spoke them, and a great line of so many similarly illustrious names spoke them. He goes on to say that philosophers prove their words to be their own by doing what they say. 156 What is most significant for our purposes is that Seneca does not distinguish Plato, Zeno, Chrysippus, and Posidonius’s words from one another’s. They share the same words just like Seneca and his teacher. While it may not always be possible to distinguish those who do practice what they preach from those who just preach, Seneca does seem to imply, however incidentally, that any great philosopher’s words are equivalent to any other’s, a position reflected in the unity between Attalus and Seneca’s words in the letter. If one were to read Attalus’s speech against the 154 The rhetorical meaning of color as a partisan nuancing of word choice does not seem relevant here. Cf. Lausberg 1998: 464. 155 Sic ista ediscamus ut quae fuerint verba sint opera, Ep. 108.35. 156 Quomodo probare possint sua esse monstrabo: faciant quae dixerint, Ep. 108.38. 106 speech of Ratio given in Ep. 84, perhaps Seneca’s assimilation of philosophers’ words to one another’s and Seneca’s to Attalus’s reflects their mutual attunement to universal logos, the primary objective (propositum) of the lives of Stoics. Seneca’s other teacher, Sotion, gives a speech a little later in the letter. 157 In performing as Sotion, Seneca again suggests a similarity between the processes of alimentary consumption and the reception of impressions. At the most superficial level, Sotion’s speech is merely a piece of dietary advice. Seneca notes that Sextius argued that humans derived enough nourishment from plants without resorting to slaughter and that a simple diet was better for the constitution (Ep. 108.18). Pythagoras, however, argued that there was a transmigration of the soul from one body to another. Eating meat might be form of cannibalism. He writes that Pythagoras used to say there was an association of all beings among one another (omnium inter omnia cognationem) and that there was an exchange of souls crossing into one form and then another (animorum commercium in alias atque alias formas transeuntium). He claimed that no soul perishes (Nulla… anima interit), but rather departs only for a short time while it is poured into a new body (dum in aliud corpus transfunditur, Ep. 108.19). The language that Seneca uses to describe this transmigration resonates with the processes of philosophical education that he describes elsewhere in the letter. Seneca had used the word forma earlier in the letter, when claiming (Ep. 108.7), Adficiuntur illis et sunt quales iubentur, si illa animo forma permaneat, si non impetum insignem protinus populus, honesti dissuasor, excipiat. They are affected by them (those words) and become the sort of people they are ordered to be, if that form should remain in their mind, if the populace, the opponent of the good, should not straightaway intercept this noble impulse. 157 Seneca alludes to him in Ep. 49.2. Jerome (Chron. Anno 2029 p. 255 Helm) and Athenaeus (Deipn. 4.162) note that he was from Alexandria. Fillion-Lahille 1984: 261-272 and 1989: 1632- 36 suggests that Sotion influenced De Ira. Cf. Stob. 3.550.7-17 and Sen. De Ira 2.10.5. 107 Seneca’s description of education is similar to his account of transmigration. His use of the word transfunditur might recall Seneca’s injunction from the opening of the letter to drink (hauriendum est) in only as much as you can take. He inverts the pattern of education, whereby a forma, presumably that of the teacher, enters the animus as an impression: in the case of transmigration, it is the animus that enters the forma, the body. Seneca’s account of transmigration suggests a transference and transformation of material from earlier in the letter. In not only associating transmigration with education, but also with previous passages intratextually, Seneca suggests that the text carries out a process similar to digestion similar to the one described and performed in Epistle 84. Sotion’s sermocinatio extends points of comparison between education and transmigration discussed above (Ep. 108.20-21): “Do you not believe (non credis),” he said, “that souls are assigned to one body and then to another (animas in alia corpora atque alia discribi) and that what we call death is a migration (migrationem)? Do you not believe (Non credis) that among cattle, beasts, or those sunk in water, a formerly human soul remains? Do you not (Non credis) believe that nothing dies (nihil perire) in this world, but rather changes region (mutare regionem)? And that not only heavenly bodies turn through fixed circuits (caelestia per certos circuitus verti), but that living beings also go through exchanges and souls are driven through a cycle (animalia quoque per vices ire et animos per orbem agi)? Great men (Magni… viri) have believed (crediderunt) those things. And so certainly maintain your judgment, but yet preserve your own impartiality in all things. If they are true, to have abstained from animals is harmless. If they are false, to have abstained is frugal. In this case, what is the penalty for your cruelty? I am snatching away from you the food of lions and vultures.” Read superficially, Sotion’s speech is simply an exhortation to vegetarianism on the grounds of frugality and possibly transmigration. Yet it is possible to press a little further. Sotion’s advice to Seneca is a form of internalization, namely Seneca’s internalization of Sotion’s instruction, about 108 internalization, i.e. eating. 158 Sotion’s flurry of rhetorical questions seem to insinuate that transmigration is a meta-commentary on the speech itself. His claim that souls are assigned to one body and then to another evokes the presence of Sotion and possibly Attalus’s voices within Seneca’s text. The allusions to exchanges (per vices) and circles (per orbem) might call to mind the reciprocity of the opening of the letter, with its cyclic transmissions between Attalus, Seneca, and Lucilius, as teacher benefits student who benefits companion. It could also be read as enacting a transference of knowledge from Pythagoras, to Sotion, to Seneca, to Lucilius. His opening question (“Non credis… animas in alia corpora”) echoes what Pythagoras used to say (Nulla, si illi credas, anima interit, ne cessat quidem nisi tempore exiguo, dum in aliud corpus transfunditur, Ep. 108.19). Sotion’s speech almost seems to hint at his and Attalus’s transmigration from historical individuals to words upon Seneca’s page or imprints upon Seneca’s soul. For that matter, the language might evoke the impression Pythagoras’s teaching made upon Sotion or perhaps even the transmigration of Pythagoras’s soul into Sotion. Given that Seneca composed the letters late in life, it would seem plausible that both teachers had died, lending a special poignancy to Sotion’s assertion that there is no death, only changes of region. Insofar as Pythagoras has made an impression on Sotion and Sotion on Seneca, both teachers have an afterlife of sorts within the minds and texts of others. Sotion’s dietary advice evokes the chain of impressions teacher makes upon student and the transference of their knowledge via impressions made upon the mind. Conclusion 158 On the use of Seneca’s use of metaphor in Ep. 108 specifically, see Von Albrecht 2000 and pages 230-32 on alimentary metaphors specifically. As he points out, “1) la convergenza delle varie serie di immagini corrisponde alla convergenza postulata da Seneca tra le aspettative dell’insegnante e dell’allievo; 2) il testo di Seneca stesso riflette e per cosí dire ‘realizza’ nella sua struttura linguistica non solo le teorie stilistiche ma anche certi aspetti delle idee filosofiche di Seneca” (241). 109 Seneca’s imitations of Socrates in De Beneficiis, Ratio in Epistle 84, and Attalus and Sotion in Epistle 108 all evoke the Stoic theory of impressions in the rhetorical form of his texts. While Epistles 84 and 108 feature similar didactic concerns, Seneca treats the topic of impressions in De Beneficiis differently. While Seneca does not contradict himself explicitly, one or another aspect of the theory may be more or less important, not on account of Seneca’s true beliefs, but on account of the didactic exigencies of the topic at hand. To attempt to extrapolate Seneca’s “true beliefs” about Stoic theory runs the risk of overlooking how the specific concerns of individual texts affect Seneca’s articulation of (what scholars take to be) those beliefs. Moreover, it might lead one to overlook the diverse, dynamic ways in which Seneca teaches Stoic theory implicitly at the level of rhetorical form. While scholars have considered Seneca’s explicit claims about moral education, particularly in Epistles 94 and 95, Seneca draws his readers into Stoic ways of thinking as much between the lines of his text as through his explicit claims. 159 159 The most recent treatment of many is Schafer 2009. 110 Chapter 3: Body and Soul Introduction Stoic understandings of the relationship between body and soul play a role in informing the literary design of the speeches of Nero in De Clementia (addressed to Nero, written between 55-56 CE) and Hostius Quadra in the Natural Questions (addressed to Lucilius, dated to between 61-64 CE). In De Clementia, Seneca guides Nero to recognize his shared identity with his subjects through the following analogy: what the ruler is to his subjects is what the soul is to the body. By assuming Nero’s voice, Seneca can be understood to facilitate Nero’s self-recognition through suggesting that his words are Nero’s words. Seneca adduces Hostius Quadra in the Natural Questions as a negative exemplar. In contrast with Seneca’s ideal philosopher, who recognizes his common identity with god and nature by way of the Stoic soul, Hostius Quadra sees himself as defined at the limits of his own body and through his bodily exploits. Rather than drawing upon the body as a source of comparison for natural phenomenon, Hostius gazes at distortions of his and his partners’ literal bodies without any edification. The magnifying effect of his mirrors evinces his myopia in strong contrast with the magnitudo animi of the sage who sees himself in nature by virtue of the pan-immanence of the soul. 3.A. The Emperor’s Mirror: Nero’s Speech in De Clementia Seneca presents Nero with a philosophical analogy common in multiple philosophical traditions: what the soul is to the body, the king is to his subjects. Having described the repsonsiveness of people and cities to their king, Seneca writes (Clem. 1.3.5): In the same way the whole body serves the mind (totum corpus animo deseruit). The body may be greater and more outwardly impressive and the mind, fine as it is (tenuis), remains hidden (in occulto maneat) and is concealed in an unknown place (in qua sede latitet incertus); nevertheless, the hands, feet, and eyes carry out its business, the skin guards it and we stand still at its order (iussu) or run about unceasingly when it has given 111 its command (imperauit)… Thus this innumerable multitude placed around the life of a single man is ruled by his spirit (haec immensa multitudo unius animae circumdata illius spiritu regitur) and bends according to his mind, about to crush and break itself with its strength were it not preserved through his wisdom (illius ratione flectitur pressura se ac fractura uiribus suis, nisi consilio sustineretur). Though I translate ratio as mind, a more technically accurate (though perhaps less idiomatic) translation might be the Greek term hegemonikon, the leading part of the soul, its ruling principle. As Braund 2009: 206-07 points out, the analogy between soul and body and king and subjects can be traced back to Aristotle (Pol. 1254a-34-b9) and can be found in an abundance of sources. However, Seneca’s language is perhaps best understood in light of a specifically Stoic conception of the relationship between the mind and body. Seneca expresses uncertainty as to where the soul is, but there is no doubt that it commands the body and exerts its influence throughout, since the extremities carry out its orders. Based on the analogy, Seneca’s description of the emperor at the end of the passage suggests that the immensa multitudo is part of the emperor’s body. Seneca draws upon a more explicitly Stoic understanding of soul a little later in the text when he writes (Clem. 1.4.1), ille est enim uinculum per quod res publica cohaeret, ille spiritus uitalis quem haec tot milia trahunt nihil ipsa per se futura nisi onus et praeda, si mens illa imperii subtrahatur. Indeed he is that bond through which the republic hangs together; he is the vital breath, which so many thousands draw, who, left to themselves, would be nothing but a burden and prey, if that mind of the empire were to be withdrawn. The terms vinculum and cohaeret suggest the cohesive power of the pneuma, which holds together all matter. Seneca regularly uses the term vinculum to discuss the chain of causes that makes up fate and cohaeret might evoke his uses of the term to talk about the unity of god, men, 112 and nature. 160 Ille spiritus denotes the breath of life, but given the fact that he identifies it as a force of cohesion, Seneca may be blurring the distinction between its Stoic technical and nontechnical meanings. Immediately following the passage above, Seneca quotes Vergil (rege incolumi mens omnibus una / amisso rupere fidem, Georg. 4.212-13, Clem. 1.4.1) reinforcing the union of ruler and subject by way of the continuity of the ruler’s mind. The description essentially suggests that all are unified through a single mens. Seneca highlights Nero’s unique power, but also his underlying interconnection to those he rules. 161 Seneca clarifies the import of the analogies between Nero and the spiritus/mind when he notes that though he seems to have gotten off track (recessisse a proposito oratio mea), his digression nonetheless has bearing on the subject (rem ipsam premit, Clem. 1.5.1): For, if… you are the mind of your republic (animus rei publicae [tuae]) and it is your body (corpus tuum), you see then, I think, how necessary mercy is; for you spare yourself when you seem to spare another (tibi enim parcis cum uideris alteri parcere). Seneca underscores Nero’s connection to those he rules. He draws Nero towards an awareness of the continuity between himself and his subjects based on an understanding of the organic unity of soul and body. Seneca makes similar points repeatedly later in the text. In drawing a contrast with the tyrant, Seneca claims that the good king “cares for all things” (cui curae sunt uniuersa), “looks no more after certain things than others” (non alia magis, alia minus tuetur), and “treats every part of the republic as though part of himself” (nullam non rei publicae partem tamquam sui nutrit). Seneca explains that he, the good king, “seems fully happy in his own eyes if he shares his good fortune with the public” (felix abunde sibi uisus si fortunam suam publicarit, Clem. 1.13.4). Elsewhere he exhorts, “Let no one be so lowly to the king that he does not feel his 160 E.g. Prov. 5.9. 161 When Seneca contemplates the absence of the cohesive force of the emperor, he writes, haec unitas et hic maximi imperii contextus in partes multas dissiliet (Clem. 1.4.2). 113 death! Whatever type of person he is, he is part of his dominion” (nemo regi tam uilis sit ut illum perire non sentiat!; qualiscumque est, pars imperii est, Clem. 1.16.1). Seneca later notes that the emperor must have as much fear as he wishes to inspire (tantum enim necesse est timeat quantum timeri uoluit, Clem. 1.19.5), underscoring yet again the degree to which the fate of emperor and subject are connected. Seneca writes (Clem. 1.19.5), Indeed he is mistaken (errat) if he thinks that the king is safe (tutum) when nothing is safe from the king (nihil a rege tutum). Security must be negotiated through mutual security (securitas securitate mutua paciscenda est). Even the parallelism of his language (securitas securitate mutua) evokes the reciprocal bonds that bind the emperor to his subjects. Seneca explains that a good king has demonstrated “not that the republic is his, but that he belongs to the republic” (non rem publicam suam esse sed se rei publicae, Clem. 1.19.8). Again, Seneca writes the reciprocity of the relationship into the text through verbal parallelism. The reciprocal bonds between body and soul, ruler and ruled, that Seneca highlights throughout De Clementia can be read as informing his framing of Nero’s speech early in book one. Seneca opens the text by writing (Clem. 1.1.1) Scribere de clementia, Nero Caesar, institui, ut quodam modo speculi uice fungerer et te tibi ostenderem peruenturum ad uoluptatem maximam omnium. I have set about to write about mercy, Nero Caesar, so that I may act as a kind of mirror, so to speak, and show you to yourself as a man about to arrive at the greatest pleasure of all. Seneca claims that he acts as a mirror of Nero. As other scholars have observed, this allows Seneca to praise Nero while possibly mitigating against the charge of flattery and instruct Nero while claiming to represent him. 162 Though voluptas might adumbrate a form of fleeting 162 E.g. Braund 2009: 154. Seneca elsewhere explicitly denies that he is attempting to flatter Nero (maluerim ueris offendere quam placere adulando, Clem. 2.2.2). 114 (Epicurean) pleasure to be contrasted with Stoic joy (usually gaudium), Seneca seems to be using the term to designate the good feeling that attends virtue. 163 Seneca does note that the reward of virtuous acts lies in having done them (recte factorum uerus fructus sit fecisse) and that there is no reward worthy of virtues beyond virtues themselves (nec ullum uirtutum pretium dignum illis extra ipsas sit). However, he also notes that it is nonetheless pleasing (iuuat) to inspect and examine one’s good conscience (bonam conscientiam, Clem. 1.1.1). Seneca then claims that it is a pleasure to cast one’s eyes upon the boundless, discordant, factious, out-of-control multitude about to rush to their own and one another’s destruction if they break this yoke, i.e. Nero’s rule. Seneca paints a contrast between the virtuous, stable princeps and the disorderly mob. Like the pneuma, which imposes structure on passive matter, or the soul, which commands the body, the princeps provides order to the unruly masses, which are ready to burst into anarchy at any moment. After a lacuna, Seneca assumes the voice of the princeps, asking (Clem. 1.1.2), ‘Egone ex omnibus mortalibus placui electusque sum, qui in terris deorum uice fungerer?’ “Have I found favor among all mortals and been chosen to act as the representative of the gods on earth?” Having just claimed that he will act as Nero’s mirror, Seneca fulfills his promise, using a verbal echo (fungerer). 164 While the speech of Nero demonstrates the grand extent of his power over his subjects, Seneca’s mirroring goes some ways towards adumbrating the organic connection between ruler and subjects towards which he guides Nero throughout text. Seneca’s rhetorical technique shows him the nature of the reciprocity that Seneca wants him to recognize. 163 Throughout De Vita Beata, Seneca clarifies that while the reward for virtue is itself, nonetheless happiness does attend virtue. 164 It is worth pointing out that he states his intention to reflect Nero early in book two (Clem. 2.2.2): bene factis dictisque tuis quam familiarissimum esse te cupio. 115 Nero then lists his god-like powers: he is the judge of life and death for the nations of the world (uitae necisque gentibus arbiter), the prosperity and condition (statumque) of each individual rests in his hand (in mea manu). He claims that Fortune (Fortuna) announces its gift to humankind through his mouth (meo ore pronuntiat). For the reader familiar with Seneca’s frequent meditations on the imperviousness of the wise man to the gifts of fortune, such a claim might be read as having a slightly subversive flavor: the emperor can only affect indifferents or externals. The very fact that he could be read as boasting about this power might suggest how much progress he has yet to make as a Stoic. He continues to describe his godlike powers and their effects, namely that no region flourishes unless by his will, that thousands of swords are drawn and sheathed at his nod (ad nutum meum), that at his declaration (mea iuris dictio) nations and cities will be annihilated, relocated, or deprived or given liberty, and that he controls which kings will become slaves (Clem. 1.1.2). Nero’s speech then shifts to claims about how he has moderated his power. He says that he has not been driven to punishments out of anger (ira) or immature impulse (iuuenilis impetus) or the impetuosity (temeritas) or obstinacy (contumacia) of the people. After boasting that he has not resorted to terrorism (per terrores), he claims that his sword is sheathed and that he is sparing of even the blood of the most lowly (uilissimi sanguinis). He claims that there is no one who, lacking anything else, has not won favor with him by virtue of being human (nemo non, cui alia desunt, hominis nomine apud me gratiosus est, Clem. 1.1.3). He goes on to describe how sparing of human blood he is and his readiness to exercise clemency, noting that he was ready to forgive on account of youth, old age, low rank, or high rank, finally claiming that whenever he could not find a reason for pity that he simply spared himself (quotiens nullam inueneram misericordiae causam, mihi peperci). In this claim, Seneca-qua-Nero suggests an awareness of his 116 interconnection to those he rules along the lines that the very rhetorical design of the speech suggests. Seneca is Nero insofar as Seneca is his subject. Seneca beckons Nero to hear his own words in Seneca’s. He concludes the speech writing that if the gods demand a reckoning from him (rationem repetant), he is ready to count the human race (adnumberare genus humanum paratus sum) presumably since he has been so merciful (Clem. 1.1.4). Seneca reassumes his authorial voice, though he claims that Nero might as well say his words (Clem. 1.1.5), Potes hoc, Caesar, audacter praedicare omnia, quae in fidem tutelam<que tuam uenerunt tuta ha>beri, nihil per te neque ui neque clam adimi rei publicae. In this way, Caesar, you are able to proclaim confidently all these things, that what has come into your trust and protection has been kept safe and that, through you, nothing by either force or secrecy has been taken away from the republic. Seneca elides the distinction between Nero’s voice and his own. Until the reader reaches quae, he or she might think that Seneca could be referring to all the things that he had proclaimed in Nero’s voice. However, Seneca adds a few relative clauses modifying omnia thereby further calling into question the boundary between Nero’s speech and Seneca’s words. Seneca gives more words through which he might describe his powers and his rule. He claims that Nero aspired to the rarest praise (rarissimam laudem) guiltlessness (innocentiam) and that he did not waste his effort (non perdis operam), since his goodness has not received ungrateful or scanty evaluators (ingratos aut malignos aestimatores, Clem. 1.1.5). Seneca’s description again might have fit in well were he to have given it in Nero’s voice. To emphasize the point, Seneca goes so far as to claim that no one person has ever been so dear to another as Nero is to the Roman people. 165 Seneca implies that Nero’s people might have praised him in virtually the same words through which Nero described himself, a fact already suggested by Seneca’s very imitation of 165 nemo unus homo uni homini tam carus umquam fuit, quam tu populo Romano. 117 Nero and his continuance of Nero’s self-praise in his own voice. The assimilation of voices and sentiments erodes the distinction between ruler and ruled in ways that accord with his injunctions to Nero to see himself in his subjects. 3.B. The Mirrors of the Deviant: The Speech of Hostius Quadra in the Natural Questions Seneca asks early in the preface to book three, originally the first book of the Naturales Quaestiones, “What is of chief importance in human affairs?” (Quid praecipuum in rebus humanis est?). He emphatically answers that it is not filling the seas with ships, maritime conquest, or wandering over the ocean, but rather to have witnessed everything with the mind (animo omne uidisse) and to have defeated one’s vices (N.Q. 3.pref.10). Through studying nature, Seneca claims that we draw the mind away from the body. 166 When Seneca turns his attention to earthquakes in book six, he commends the courage of previous investigators who removed the obscurities of nature (naturae latebras dimouere) and were “not content with outward appearance” (nec contentum exteriore… aspectu); he praises these earlier investigators of earthquakes, who, even if they were not entirely correct, nonetheless peeked beneath the superficial appearance of nature to discover the divine secrets (in deorum secreta descendere, N.Q. 6.5.2) that lay hidden. Throughout the Natural Questions, Seneca esteems those who use appearances to make inferences about what is invisible. Seneca explains that earthquakes inspire fear because we do not know their cause and they happen so infrequently that they seem strange to us (insolitum). He then asks why anything at all is strange and answers: “Because we apprehend nature with our eyes, not reason” (quia naturam oculis non ratione comprendimus, N.Q. 6.3.2). He blames other investigators who deny the possibility that the sea enters the land through perforations for trusting too much in their eyes and not knowing how to lead their mind 166 N.Q. 3.pref.18. 118 beyond them. 167 Those who trust their literal eyesight and fail to see with their mind’s eye inevitably go astray in the Natural Questions. Near the end of book seven, which investigates comets, Seneca qualifies his claims to truth. He notes that only the gods know whether the preceding claims of the book about comets are true or not. He explains that we are only allowed to investigate (rimari) those things and to advance into the dark through conjecture (coniectura ire in occulta tantum, N.Q. 7.29.3). Eyesight is no help in the darkness: what is necessary is mental conjecture and even that is sometimes faulty. 168 Seneca drives home the discrepancy between human and divine knowledge explicitly in N.Q. 7.30.3-6: ipse qui ista tractat, qui condidit, qui totum hoc fundauit deditque circa se, maiorque est pars sui operis ac melior, effugit oculos: cogitatione uisendus est. multa praeterea cognata numini summo et uicinam sortita potentiam obscura sunt, aut fortasse, quod magis mireris, oculos nostros et implent et effugiunt, siue tanta illis subtilitas est quantam consequi acies humana non possit, siue in sanctiore secessu maiestas tanta delituit, et regnum suum, id est se, tegit, nec ulli aditum dat nisi animo. He himself who manipulates, who constructed those things, who established and bestowed the whole around himself, and is the greater and better part of his work, flees our eyes; he must be perceived through thought. Moreover, many things related to the ultimate godhead and those things allotted nearly the same power are obscure or perhaps, what amazes you more, both fill and flee our eyes whether their fineness is such that human eyesight could not have pursued them or because in a holier recess, such majesty has hidden, and it covers its kingdom, which is identical with itself, and does not grant access to anything save the mind. 169 Seneca explains that though this divine agency is the means through which anything exists, it cannot be perceived with the eyes. Literal eyesight only takes one so far; to see god is to look with the mind. Assimilating god to nature, Seneca goes on to explain that this is why future generations will still make new scientific discoveries. He emphatically claims that, “The nature 167 nimis oculis permittit, nec ultra illos scit producere animum, N.Q. 6.7.5 168 Cf. N.Q. 7.30.2: nec miremur tam tarde erui quae tam alte iacent. 169 Seneca allegorizes on account of god’s omnipresence in N.Q. 2.45. 119 of the universe does not hand over its holy rites all at once” (rerum natura sacra sua non semel tradit, N.Q. 7.30.6). To uncover the secrets of nature is a difficult process, which requires us to make inferences about what our eyes cannot perceive. Seneca provides frames of reference through which to make nature intelligible. Seneca presumably bases his reasoning on the notion that the cosmos is a unified animal of which humans are a part. In the preface to book three, the opening of the work, Seneca writes that we believe our own human affairs are great because we are small (magna ista quia parui sumus credimus). Correcting this false notion, he claims that in many cases, the greatness (magnitudo) of a thing derives not from its nature, but from our lowliness (ex humilitate, N.Q. 3.pref.10). In order to correct misapprehensions based on our lowly point of view, Seneca often guides Lucilius to see nature on a grander scale using bodily analogies and comparisons. For instance, when discussing the nature of terrestrial waters, Seneca claims that nature controls the earth on the model of our bodies. He then describes underground passages through which water and air travel, noting that the resemblance between the two is so great that our ancestors described these passages as veins (N.Q. 3.15.1). Like the body, the earth has many kinds of fluids (N.Q. 3.15.2- 3). Just as the water in our bodies may go bad, so too may the waters of the earth; just as blood flows from a cut, so rivers and streams flow from fissures in the earth (N.Q. 3.15.4). Seneca moves from prosaic bodily functions to nature’s latebras. The body serves as a point of comparison through which to understand many natural processes in the Natural Questions. In the scientific passages, Seneca treats the body almost as a mise-en-abyme of nature itself. After describing how blood and air move through the body, Seneca applies the same reasoning to the earth, writing (N.Q. 6.14.1), 120 Thus the whole body of the entire earth (totum terrarum omnium corpus) has passages for water, which holds the place of blood and winds, which is nothing other than what one could have called breath (animam uocaverit). These two things flow swiftly in some places and stand still at others. Seneca then moves on to describe how the healthy, fluid movements of these elements cause no problems, though one gives signs of weariness and effort when they do not move properly. He claims that the earth works in the same way: as long as water and air move well, there are no earthquakes. When they are stopped up and then burst forth, their movement results in earthquakes (N.Q. 6.14.2-4). 170 Seneca of course could not have seen such things with the naked eye: rather by way of comparison with the body, he infers what lies hidden beneath the earth’s surface. It is worth pointing out that air unifies model and modeled: it is a point of connection between the human body and the body of the earth. The body is a microcosm of the whole, even though it is continuous with the whole. Seneca makes similar comparisons between natural phenomena and the human body throughout the Natural Questions. He notes that a record of a man’s future is contained even in its seed (in semine omnis futuri hominis ratio comprensa est), which dictates the nature of its growth (N.Q. 3.29.2). He writes that the same could be said about the origin of the world (sic origo mundi), which is encapsulated not only in the heavenly bodies, their movements, and the birth of animals, but also in the forces that will transform the earth (N.Q. 3.29.3). The human body and its development are part of nature, but they also serve as means for reckoning nature as a whole. Elsewhere Seneca claims that food in our bodies produces flatulence and that some think, based on this model, that this immense natural system produces breath as it is nourished in 170 Cf. N.Q. 6.3.1: Illud quoque proderit praesumere animo, nihil horum deos facere, nec ira numinum aut caelum concuti aut terram: suas ista causas habent, nec ex imperio saeuiunt, sed quibusdam uitiis ut corpora nostra turbantur, et tunc cum facere uidentur iniuriam, accipiunt. 121 the same way. 171 Seneca speculates about the source of a phenomenon, which evades the eye, drawing an analogy to the human body. In N.Q. 4B.11, Seneca argues against those who claim that mountaintops should be warmer (calidiora) the nearer (propiora) they are to the sun. Seneca explains that mountains are tall only in comparison with us, but when you look at the universe, their height is of hardly any significance (N.Q. 4B.11.2). He claims that a mountain is closer to the sun than a plain or valley in the same way that one hair is thicker than another (sic quomodo est pilus pilo crassior, N.Q. 4B.11.5). These examples are not exhaustive of Seneca’s use of bodily comparisons and analogies in the Natural Questions. Throughout the text, Seneca returns to analogies involving the human body to understand nature through thought rather than his eyes. The preface to book one (the second to last in the original order) continues Seneca’s preoccupations with inferring the invisible from the visible. In the preface, he offers a meditation on theology. Describing the part of philosophy that deals with the nature of the gods, he writes, “it is not content with our eyes (oculis); it has inferred (suspicata) that there is something greater and more beautiful which nature has placed beyond our sight” (extra conspectum, N.Q. 1.pref.1). A little later he notes that theology removes us from the fog (caliginem) in which we wallow and, after we are snatched from the shadows (e tenebris), it leads us to the source of light. Seneca writes that he is grateful to the nature of the universe (rerum naturae gratias ago) not only in the part that is open to all (publica), but also when he entered its more secret places (secretiora), when he learns what matter constitutes the universe (quae uniuersi materia sit) and what god is, whether it is its auctor or guardian (custos). To learn god’s nature is to move beyond what our eyes tell us and to infer the invisible from the visible. After pondering the nature of god, Seneca goes so far as to claim that if he had not been admitted to these secrets, it would not have been 171 quomodo in nostris corporibus cibo fit inflatio… sic putant et hanc magnam rerum naturam alimenta mutantem emittere spiritum, N.Q. 5.4.2. 122 worth being born (nisi ad haec admitterer, non fuerat operae pretium nasci, N.Q. 1.pref.4). Admitterer in this context likely denotes an initiation into the mysteries, though Seneca, like the pre-Socratics, uses this language to refer to philosophical, scientific inquiry. The phrase recalls Socrates’ dictum that the unexamined life is not worth living, with a crucial shift of focus from one’s own life to nature as a whole. Seneca then shifts to decrying humanae res, including eating and drinking (N.Q. 1.pref.4). He also decries the fear of death and claims, “Oh! Man is a corrupt thing, unless he has risen above human affairs!” (O quam contempta res est homo nisi supra humana surrexerit!, N.Q. 1.pref.5). Seneca then praises Lucilius for his forthrightness and lack of greed, extravagance, and ambition. However, he undercuts this praise noting that he has achieved nothing up to this point (nihil adhuc consecutus es) since he has fled many things, but not himself. Seneca extols that virtue, which releases the mind (animum laxat) and prepares it for contemplation of the heavens (ad cognitionem caelestium) and makes it worthy to enter association with god (in consortium deo, N.Q. 1.pref.6). He explains that the good within humankind is only perfected when it spurns evil and seeks what is lofty and enters the inner heart of nature (petit altum et in interiorem naturae sinum uenit, N.Q. 1.pref.7). Again, Seneca emphasizes the importance of seeking out nature’s secrets. A little later, Seneca describes the view from above of one who has separated his soul from his body and looks down on the world below. After this account he notes that while the spaces of heaven are immense, the mind is admitted (admittitur) into the possession of these things if it bears with it the least amount of the body as possible (si secum minimum ex corpore tulit, N.Q. 1.pref.11). Seneca describes the material body as dross, which weighs down the soul. It is an encumbrance to his heavenly flights. Though it is possible to infer by analogy to the 123 body, an excessive concern with one’s literal body keeps him or her from the flight of philosophy. Seneca then describes at length the divinity of the human mind itself. He describes its ascent to the stars, with which it has a common nature. 172 He notes that the mind is an inquisitive spectator who scrutinizes and searches for each individual thing (curiosus spectator excutit singula et quaerit). Why should it not, Seneca asks, since it knows those things, the heavenly bodies, pertain to it (scit illa ad se pertinere, N.Q. 1.pref.12)? Scientific inquiry elevates the mind to the stars and separates it from the body. Through inquiring into nature, the mind inquires into itself. Seneca makes the point explicitly after asking what the difference is between our nature and god’s (inter naturam dei et nostram?). He responds that our better part is the mind (animus) and in god there is nothing but mind (nulla pars extra animum est). He explains that the whole of god is reason (Totus est ratio, N.Q. 1.pref.14). To study nature is to study one’s own nature; to know god is to know one’s own soul. When one turns to nature and to god, one sees the best part of oneself, but only with the mind’s eye. Seneca moves on from theology to a discussion of meteors and meteorological illusions. When discussing coronae, Seneca claims that our sight is deceived by its habitual weakness. 173 In N.Q. 1.3.5, Seneca explains that some authorities believe that each drop of falling rain is an individual mirror, each of which reflects an image of the sun, which fuse together to create a rainbow. 174 He compares rainbows to a thousand basins of water reflecting images of the sun, to individual drops reflecting the sun on leaves, and to a fishpond divided into small pools (N.Q. 172 N.Q. 1.pref.12: nec ut alienis sed ut suis interest. 173 N.Q. 1.2.3: uisus noster solita inbecillitate deceptus circa ipsum sidus putat positam. 174 Quidam ita existimant arcum fieri: in ea parte in qua iam pluit singula stillicidia pluuiae cadentis singula esse specula; a singulis ergo reddi imaginem solis. deinde multas imagines, immo innumerabiles, et deuexas et in praeceps euntes confundi; itaque arcum esse multarum solis imaginum confusionem. 124 1.3.6). All of these examples are different manifestations of the same phenomenon, namely reflection itself. It is as if a singular phenomenon is split apart through a multitude of comparisons in the same way that raindrops splits light from the sun into different images. Seneca elaborates on the phenomenon further, writing that each drop of rain mirrors the sun, paralleling, and in fact mirroring, the language of his earlier claim (stillicidia… cadens… specula). 175 Seneca emphasizes the fact that these mirrors wind up creating a coherent appearance (N.Q. 1.3.6): These things appear disturbed (perturbatae apparent) to an onlooker and the intervals, which separate each one (interualla quibus singulae distant) are not perceptible, since the space prevents them from being discerned; so instead of individual likenesses, one agitated likeness appears from all (pro singulis apparet una facies turbida ex omnibus). Seneca’s description of mirrors can be read as describing his own text: he forms an integrated whole out of a proliferation of different mirrors (basins of water, water droplets, a fish pond), which, by their accumulation, seem to invite comparison to the very mirroring he describes. His description of the lack of intervals is significant in light of the fact that these passages of this book of the Natural Questions focus so exclusively and repetitively on mirrors. Mirrors, at the level of explicit content and at the implicit level of literary design lend these passages an overriding sense of continuity. Seneca comes close to belaboring the implicit comparison between mirrors and his text when he notes yet again that, “Therefore, since there are many raindrops (multa stillicidia), there are as many mirrors (totidem specula)” (N.Q. 1.3.8). Seneca comes close to repeating himself later in the text when he writes in the voice of his interlocutor, “Individual raindrops are individual mirrors” (“Singula stillicidia singula specula sunt, N.Q. 1.5.4). Again, textual 175 N.Q. 1.3.6: ergo stillicidia illa infinita quae imber cadens defert totidem specula sunt, totidem solis facies habent. Compare with the footnote above. 125 parallels evoke the very phenomenon of reflection. Seneca goes on to object to the theory that clouds are composed of many raindrops. He claims that though a cloud may be comprised of innumerable drops, these individual drops would give off individual images (singulae singulas) or that the mirrors would join together. As he puts it (N.Q. 1.5.5): inter se specula coniunge: in unam imagines non coibunt, sed unaquaeque in se similitudinem uisae rei cludet. sunt quaedam specula ex multis minutisque composita… Connect these mirrors to one another; images will not coalesce into a single image, each one will enclose a likeness of what was seen within itself. There are certain mirrors comprised of many small mirrors… Seneca’s text seems to resemble one of these mirrors that his opponent describes. It contains a superabundance of verbal reflections. Moreover, the cumulative metaliterary effect is also a kind of mirror: the text “mirrors” mirrors through parallelism. However, based on the weakness of our eyes and their distorting effects, mirrors do not necessarily provide us with accurate information. In N.Q. 1.3.9, he notes that nothing is more deceptive than our eyesight (nihil esse acie nostra fallacius). He proceeds to cite many examples, including the fact that an oar appears bent in water, that fruit appear larger when seen through glass, that the columns of a colonnade merge together when viewed from afar, that the sun appears small even though much larger than the earth, that we do not see how fast Saturn moves, and that we do not perceive the earth’s fast motion (N.Q. 1.3.9-10). Our eyesight is weak and mirrors distort vision. Seneca notes that not all mirrors correspond to the truth (neque enim omnia ad uerum specula respondent, N.Q. 1.5.14). He goes on to describe the distortion of such mirrors which make one’s appearance look worse (seruata similitudine in peius), though he notes others make one look bigger and stronger (sunt quae cum uideris placere tibi uires tuae 126 possint). 176 Some mirrors show the right side of the face, others the left. Some can twist and turn one’s face (detorqueant et uertant). On this basis, Seneca concludes (N.Q. 1.5.14): So why is it amazing (mirum) that there can be a mirror of this kind in a cloud (speculum in nube) through which the defective appearance (species uitiosa) of the sun is sent back (reddatur)? Mirrors, whether on earth or in the atmosphere, can amplify images, and thereby aid scientific understanding inasmuch they can distort the object they reflect. Before introducing Hostius Quadra, Seneca repeats (ut dixi) assertions he has made regarding mirrors earlier in the text, namely that they distort (obliquent) the faces of those looking into them and that they enlarge (augeant) them so that they exceed the form and boundary of our bodies (habitum modumque nostrorum corporum excedant, N.Q. 1.15.8). Seneca explains that he introduces the anecdote (fabellam) in order to help Lucilius understand that lust (libido) scorns no instrument for stirring up pleasure and how ingenious lust is at inciting its own passion. Hostius Quadra seems at first glance like a straightforward negative exemplar who is ruled by his desires. Seneca sketches Hostius Quadra’s character in the first part of the digression. He describes him as not only rich (diuitem), but also a slave to his millions (sestertii milies seruum). He notes that Augustus did not consider him worthy to be avenged after his slaves killed him, a decision of which Seneca approves owing to Hostius’s deviant character (N.Q. 1.16.1). Seneca describes the mirrors that he owned, which were the kind that returned images larger than the objects reflected (imagines longe maiores reddentia). In these mirrors, a finger exceeded the length and thickness of an arm (digitus brachii mensuram et crassitudinem excederet). Hostius arranged the mirrors so that he could see the movements of his partner and so that he could 176 He remarks upon the magnifying effects of mirrors again in N.Q. 1.6.2 and 1.6.5-6. 127 “rejoice in the false size of his partner’s member as if it were real” (ipsius membri falsa magnitudine tamquam uera gaudebat, N.Q. 1.16.2). Seneca explains that though he would choose men according to their obvious size (aperta mensura), nonetheless his insatiable wickedness took delight in lies (mendaciis quoque insatiabile malum oblectabat, N.Q. 1.16.3). In light of Seneca’s bodily analogies, which pervade the Natural Questions, Hostius Quadra’s mirrors represent an unsettling inversion. While Seneca makes inferences about nature through comparison with the human body, Hostius Quadra amplifies only illusory, false images of bodies. He twists the magnitudo animi of the sage who recognizes himself in nature through using his minds eye by seeing only literal images of himself in every direction. While the philosopher, in a sense, magnifies the human body by imagining how it resembles the earth as a whole, Hostius just magnifies bodies without any comparison to nature. These deceptive mirrors surrounded him on all sides (illi specula ab omni parte opponerentur, N.Q. 1.16.3). This description of mirrors parallels Seneca’s description of the raindrops in clouds, which make one man seem like a crowd. 177 Hostius presumably uses his mirrors to surround himself with a crowd of Hostii. Yet the passage might also recall Seneca’s description of god himself, whom Seneca had earlier claimed surrounded himself with the world (qui totum hoc fundauit deditque circa se) and is the greater and better part of his work (maiorque est pars sui operis ac melior, N.Q. 7.30.3). One reason why Hostius arranged his mirrors so carefully was in order to display his work (opus… suum) to himself through images (per imagines) while his head was dipped in and clinging to another’s groin (N.Q. 1.16.4). Rather than using mirrors to know himself or to know nature, Hostius uses mirrors only to amplify his 177 sunt quaedam specula ex multis minutisque composita, quibus si unum ostenderis hominem populus apparet, unaquaque particula suam faciem exprimente; haec cum sint coniuncta et simul conlocata, nihilominus seducunt imagines suas et ex uno quidem turbam efficiunt, N.Q. 1.5.5. 128 own lascivious acts. While the philosopher affirms his common identity with god and nature based on the pervasion of soul, Hostius sees only literal bodies, our lesser parts. He surrounds himself with his work, or rather images of his work, as if he were emulating god in a twisted fashion. While the philosopher recognizes his common identity with nature as a whole based on god’s immanence, Hostius sees himself everywhere he turns, albeit in distorted images. While Seneca esteems the efforts of philosophers to infer the divine secrets of nature through making inferences based on visible signs, Hostius makes secrets manifest through his use of mirrors, though these are secrets that Seneca claims ought to be left in the dark. Seneca writes (N.Q. 1.16.3-4): … quae secreta quoque conscientiam premunt, quaeque et sibi quisque fecisse se negat, non in os tantum sed in oculos suos ingereret. at hercules scelera conspectum sui reformidant. in perditis quoque et ad omne dedecus expositis tenerrima est oculorum uerecundia. ille, quasi parum esset inaudita et incognita pati, oculos suos ad illa aduocauit… … secret things, which likewise press upon the conscience and which anyone would deny to himself to have done, he was forcing into not only his mouth, but also into his eyes. But by Hercules, even villainy shrinks from the sight of itself. Even among the depraved and those exposed to every form of disgrace, there is a very slight sense of shame in the eyes. That man, as if it were not enough to endure unthinkable, unheard of things, he summoned his eyes to them… Hostius’s vices are bad enough. However, what Seneca cites as most egregious is his revelry in the very spectacle of them. As he points out, it is bad enough what he does with his mouth; taking in his obscenity with his eyes only deepens his sin given how he relishes it. Seneca highlights the spectacular nature of Hostius’s transgression. 178 Later Seneca asks, “What did this vile man leave to do in the dark?” (Quidnam homo impurus reliquit quod in tenebris faceret? N.Q. 1.16.5). Again, at issue are not just Hostius’s transgressions, but also his revelry in 178 Early in the anecdote Seneca notes that Hostius’s obscenity was turned into a dramatic spectacle (obscenitatis in scaenam usque producta, N.Q. 1.16.1). 129 witnessing them. While Seneca’s ideal philosopher detaches his mind from his body in order to investigate nature’s secrets, Hostius fixates his eyes on his own body and uses mirrors to reveal secrets, which ought to remain hidden. It is no coincidence that Seneca here uses the verb admitto when describing Hostius’s sexual exploits with men (spectabat admissos sibi pariter in omnia uiros, N.Q. 1.16.5) whereas he had used the term (admitterer) in the preface to describe the penetration of the mind into nature’s secrets (N.Q. 1.pref.4) and the entrance of the mind into heaven (admittitur, N.Q. 1.pref.11). He twists the aspirations of the philosopher to know nature’s secrets. Before speaking as Hostius, Seneca notes that even prostitutes have a modicum of modesty and that they will at least hide their submission (patientia). Seneca mentions that even brothels have a sense of shame (uerecundum). Immediately before the speech, he writes (N.Q. 1.16.6), But that monster had made his obscenity a spectacle (spectaculum) and was showing himself (sibi ostentabat) things, which no night was deep enough to cover. Seneca had said much the same already, noting that Hostius’s obscenity was a theatrical spectacle (obscenitatis in scaenam usque productae, N.Q. 1.16.1). He already called attention to the fact that Hostius was a spectator to his own sins (ipse flagitiorum suorum spectator esset, N.Q. 1.16.3). Earlier he had noted that Hostius watched the desire of his mouth (spectabat illam libidinem oris sui), that he watched men equally permitted into all places (spectabat admissos sibi pariter in omnia uiros), and that he looked upon unspeakable things (spectabat nefanda, N.Q. 1.16.5). It would seem hardly necessary to remark yet again that Hostius made his obscenity a spectacle: Seneca had essentially said as much throughout the whole passage. Yet the repetition lends the passage a sense of continuity with the rest of the book. Seneca continues to produce mirroring effects within the text as he discusses Hostius’s mirrors. 130 Even Hostius’s words mirror Seneca’s. He opens his speech with the claim, “I submit to a man and woman at the same time” (‘Simul… et uirum et feminam patior’, N.Q. 1.16.7). Seneca himself said almost the same thing a little earlier. 179 He goes on to say more words reminiscent of Seneca’s. After noting that he performed indignities on another, he says that all his members were occupied in illicit acts (‘omnia membra stupris occupata sunt’). Earlier Seneca had written that he exposed himself to submission in his whole body (toto corpore patientiae expositus, N.Q. 1.16.5). Hostius’s phrasing does differ from Seneca’s, though both emphasize the fact that Hostius engages his whole body in sexual exploits. Hostius then enjoins that his eyes also take part in his desire (‘oculi quoque in partem libidinis ueniant’), recalling Seneca’s own claim that Hostius not only engaged in actions which press upon the conscience, but that he arranged mirrors so that these actions would be presented not only to his mouth but to his eyes (non in os tantum sed in oculos suos ingereret, N.Q. 1.16.3). The speech of Hostius is reminiscent of Seneca’s own words and sentiments. It is as if the speech itself were a distorted mirror of Seneca’s words. Hostius’s concluding statements invite comparison and contrast with Seneca’s philosophical methods of inference and his idealization of knowing nature’s secrets. Hostius’s words both mirror and distort Seneca’s opening claims in the preface. Like Seneca, Hostius seeks out what is typically invisible to the human eye. He beckons (N.Q. 1.16.7), etiam ea quae a conspectu corporis nostri positio submouit arte uisantur, ne quis me putet nescire quid faciam. Let even those things which the position of our bodies remove from our sight be seen by means of technology, lest anyone think that I do not know what I do. 179 Cf. N.Q. 1.16.2: tam uirorum quam feminarum auidus fuit, N.Q. 1.16.5: inter marem et feminas distributus et toto corpore patientiae expositus spectabat nefanda. 131 Hostius, like Seneca, seeks out what nature has hidden. He has the same impulses to discover secrets, though these are not secrets Seneca has in mind in the opening when he writes of theology, “it is not content with our eyes (oculis); it has inferred (suspicata) that there is something greater and more beautiful which nature has placed beyond our sight” (extra conspectum, N.Q. 1.pref.1). Hostius also wants to see something beyond his sight, though he desires to see only his and his partners’ bodies. While Seneca says he would rather not be born if deprived of entering into nature’s mysteries (nisi ad haec admitterer, non fuerat operae pretium nasci, N.Q. 1.pref.4), Hostius’s secrets concern only his obscene acts. He has the same impulses as Seneca, though they are misdirected. After Hostius decries nature for hiding his obscenity from himself, he writes words, which resonate with Seneca’s philosophical injunctions and aspirations. In concluding the speech he writes (N.Q. 1.16.8), ‘quo nequitiam meam, si ad naturae modum pecco? id genus speculorum circumponam mihi quod incredibilem magnitudinem imaginum reddat. si liceret mihi, ad uerum ista perducerem; quia non licet, mendacio pascar. obscenitas mea plus quam capit uideat, et patientiam suam ipsa miretur.’ “What is the point of my depravity, if I sin only up to nature’s limit? I place that kind of mirror around myself, which produces images at an unbelievable scale. If it were allowed, I would make them real; because it is not, I will feed upon a lie. Let my obscenity see more than it grasps and wonder at its own submission.” Hostius’s speech is a distorted reflection of Seneca’s philosophical impulses. Hostius seeks to transcend nature by witnessing his own obscenity, whereas Seneca seeks to transcend his human nature by discovering nature’s secrets. Mirrors have the potential to aid both endeavors. While Seneca aims to emulate god in a form of detached contemplation, Hostius emulates god out of his myopia. There is nothing outside god and presumably god, as our own souls, sees himself in all things. Hostius plays at god like the philosopher does, though in the wrong way. Instead of 132 working to understand and perfect his underlying connection with nature and the cosmos, thereby understanding and perfecting himself, Hostius desires to see only his own sexual exploits. The phrase quod incredibilem magnitudinem imaginum reddat is potent in light of Seneca’s repeated use of bodily analogies. Seneca infers the secrets of nature based on the body. What obtains at the level of the human body might obtain at the scale of the earth, insofar as the cosmos is a single, unified organism. These comparisons affirm organic continuity between human nature and nature as a whole. Hostius however creates misleading imagines of his and his partners’ bodies at a larger scale without any edification whatsoever. While the philosopher magnifies his body analogically, Hostius creates only magnified (and misleading) images. He infers nothing about nature: his only desire in creating imagines of the body at a larger scale is to feed his own lust. Seneca sets out to see with the mind’s eye whereas Hostius only looks at himself literally. Hostius twists and distorts the inferential practices of the philosopher, which guide him towards a better understanding of his place in the cosmos, into a form of myopia. While Seneca seeks to understand the physical reality lying behind illusory appearances, Hostius is entirely willing to settle for illusions. Hostius’s speech presents a twisted distortion of Seneca’s philosophical impulses, methods, aspirations, and ideals. Upon concluding the speech, Seneca decries Hostius’s scandalous crime and expresses his wish that Hostius were immolated in front of his mirror (ad speculum suum inmolandus fuit, N.Q. 1.16.9). Having abruptly ended the anecdote, Seneca defends nature’s production of mirrors which allows us to look at the sun, which would have overwhelmed our feeble eyes (inbecilli oculi ad sustinendum comminus solem, N.Q. 1.17.2.) as well as eclipses (duorum siderum occursum, N.Q. 1.17.3). Hostius misuses nature’s gift of mirrors by witnessing his own body, not 133 the heavenly bodies. Rather than looking upward to the heavens in order to recognize the common identity of god and man, Hostius gazes only at his and his partners’ bodies. Hostius is more than an exemplar of misguided desires. He is an inversion, a mirror-image, of the ideal philosopher who sees himself everywhere he turns by virtue of the divine soul within all things. 134 Chapter 4: Consolatory Personae Introduction Although most scholars agree that Seneca intended for De Consolatione Ad Marciam (dated to 39 or 40 CE), De Consolatione Ad Polybium (dated to 41-49 CE), and De Consolatione ad Helviam (dated to 41-49 CE) to be published and read by a wide audience, he addresses these works to three specific, historical individuals: Marcia, the virtuous daughter of Cremutius Cordus 180 , who lost her son and has been mourning him for three years, Polybius, an imperial freedman and administrator for Claudius, who lost his brother, and his mother Helvia, who is grieving over Seneca’s absence. 181 In his wide-ranging account of consolation in the ancient world, David Scourfield places consolations given “to specific individuals in specific circumstances” at the center of the genre (2013: 20). Scourfield locates the roots of consolation in the social act of dissuading specific individuals from grief. Some scholars have treated these three texts as, by and large, characteristic of the genre in part because Seneca seems to have tailored each text for its addressee’s set of particular circumstances. 182 Yet this tailoring, when read within each work as a whole, can in fact be understood as constructing both his addressees, and the dominant personae of his text more generally, in remarkably fluid terms. He also creates fluid relationships between the dominant personae of his texts and their speech. 183 Seneca often suggests that a consolation given to one individual might suit another or that two personae are 180 A number of sources mention her father. Tacitus (Ann. 4.34-35) gives a speech in Cordus’s voice citing other writers whose works contained criticisms of emperors, but who went unpunished. See also Suet. Cal. 16.1, Tac. Ann. 4.34-35. 181 Polybius is known to us only through this work. 182 E.g. Hine 2014: 79, Sauer 2014a: 136, Sauer 2014b: 171. Wilson 2013: 94 points out that scholars often regard him as representative of Stoic consolatory arguments specifically. 183 Clifford Robinson, in a personal correspondence, described to me his research, which suggests that the extant consolations from the Roman period represent a departure from the norms of the genre. 135 delivering the same consolation at the same time. While it is possible that the assimilation of various speakers, addressees, and other personae and their words could in fact be part of his tailoring for specific addressees, analysis of Seneca’s extended monologues in the consolatory works in fact suggests a degree of fluidity of identity and circumstance that departs from Scourfield’s consolatory primal scene. 4.A. The Historian and the Philosopher: Cremutius Cordus in Ad Marciam Throughout Ad Marciam, Seneca takes care to fashion Cordus in his self-image, presumably, at least in part to play upon Marcia’s proven filial piety when he assumes his voice. In one of the most dramatic speeches of Senecan prose, Seneca assumes the voice of the deceased Cremutius Cordus, historian and father to Marcia, to address her from beyond the grave. 184 In his speech, Cordus reminds Marcia of the fact that death is a haven from misfortune and describes a grand vision of ekpyrosis. Cordus’s words echo with Seneca’s as if to evoke the unifying effect of the conflagration during which the world is consumed by fiery breath. In so closely associating their personae and words, Seneca implicitly and explicitly draws his Marcia and his reader’s attention to the commune fatum that all humankind and even the world face in death. By drawing evoking the unifying effect of ekpyrosis in the literary form of his text, Seneca reframes Marcia’s loss within a broader context in order to diminish her grief. In order to understand Cordus’s speech in De Consolatione Ad Marciam, it is necessary to understand its relationship to Seneca’s depiction of Cordus elsewhere in the work. After praising Marcia’s strength in the opening of the work, Seneca praises how she bore herself in relation to her father. Seneca notes (Cons. Marc. 1.1-2): It is not unknown how you carried yourself with respect to the personage of your father (qualem te in persona patris tui gesseris), whom you held dear no less than your children, 184 Cons. Marc. 26.2-7. 136 with the exception that you were not hoping that he outlive you. As Wilcox 2006 passim notes, death offered women a unique opportunity to show their virtue publicly through proper expression of mourning. In a certain sense, Marcia serves as her own exemplum: how she conducted herself with respect to her father is how she ought to conduct herself with respect to her son. Note the phrase persona patris tui gesseris. The end of the work too invites her to once again conduct herself in relation to her father’s persona, this time played by Seneca. Seneca’s use of Cordus’s persona relies on her proven record of filial piety. In honoring the words of her father (imagined by Seneca) she might end her mourning for her son. After a brief discussion of the conditions of Cordus’s death, Seneca goes on to describe Marcia’s achievement in preserving the books of her father. He notes that Marcia rescued him from true death (a uera illum uindicasti morte) and re-established in public libraries (publica monumenta) the books he wrote in his own blood (libros quos uir ille fortissimus sanguine suo scripserat, Cons. Marc. 1.3). Though Cordus’s writings might confer upon him immortality, Seneca’s use of the word monumentum in this context is perhaps suggestive of a tomb and his allusion to Cordus’s blood-writings makes his texts seem almost corpse-like. It is almost as if Cordus as his texts is both living and dead. Seneca notes that Marcia also behaved excellently with respect to future generations, “to whom will come the uncorrupted trustworthiness of histories ascribed to their great author” (ad quos ueniet incorrupta rerum fides, auctori suo magno inputata, Cons. Marc. 1.3). Seneca presents the author almost living on in his work, continuing to speak and hold influence in spite of death. The reception of his writing ensures some degree of immortality. 185 In a rhetorical climax, Seneca praises Marcia for her conduct towards Cordus in death 185 Cf. Cons. Marc. 1.4: Legitur, floret, in manus hominum, in pectora receptus vetustatem nullam timet. 137 (Cons. Marc. 1.3). … You behave most excellently with respect to the man himself (optime de ipso), whose memory thrives and will thrive (cuius uiget uigebitque memoria) as long as knowledge of Roman affairs is valuable (quam diu in pretio fuerit Romana cognosci), as long as there is anyone who wishes to turn back to the deeds of the ancestors (acta maiorum), as long as there is anyone who wishes to know what a Roman man is (quid sit uir Romanus), what it is to remain unconquered (indomitus) while the necks of all were subjugated and forced to submit to the yoke of Sejanus, what a man free in character, mind, and hand is (quid sit homo ingenio animo manu liber). Seneca casts Cremutius Cordus as if he were part of his own history. In doing so, he solidifies the connection between the man and his work in ways adumbrated above. 186 The indirect question quid uir Romanus connects Cordus to the line of men whose deeds he recounts and among whom he perhaps now numbers by means of his virtuous death. 187 Both his life and his works instruct his readers in uirtus, whether denoting “manliness” or “virtue.” Even this early in the text, Seneca casts Cordus’s life and work in laudatory terms. Moreover, Seneca suggests an affiliation between his own commemoration of the virtus of great men including Sulla, Xenophon, Paulus, Lucius Bibulus, Julius Caesar, among others in sections 12.4-15.4 of Ad Marciam and Cordus’s commemoration of great men in his history. The freedom of Cordus’s hand is evocative of both his composition of history and his suicide. The fact that his writings benefit future generations accords well with claims that Seneca makes about his own writings in the Epistles. 188 Seneca’s description of him as a man free in talent, spirit, and hand is reminiscent of Seneca’s Stoic sage. There is an undoubtable political resonance in the passage: like Cicero and especially Cato, whom Seneca so often praises, Cremutius Cordus is a 186 Seneca regularly exhorts his addressee to make their deeds accord with their words; see pp. 9- 10. Seneca suggests that Cordus displayed this consistency. In Cordus’s voice, he writes, ostendi tam magno me quam uiuebam animo scripsisse (Cons. Marc. 26.3). 187 Dio 57.24.4 notes that Cordus’s fate aroused interest in his writings. 188 Eg. Ep. 8.2, 8.6, 22.2. 138 defender of the republic and libertas. 189 Though Seneca notably never wrote history and usually casts historians in negative terms, as commemorator of Cordus’s death, Seneca fulfills a similar role as Cordus. 190 Later in the work, Seneca recounts the conditions of Sejanus’s persecution of Cordus. He again notes that Cordus could not silently tolerate the yoke of Sejanus (ferre non potuerat Seianum in ceruices nostras ne inponi, Cons. Marc. 22.4), who was being honored with a statue at the theater of Pompey. Seneca notes that Cordus spoke out against the erection of the statue, again tying his expression of libertas to his demise. After weakening himself through bathing in hot water and fasting for several days, Cordus aimed to kill himself, cheating the delatores of their prey (e faucibus auidissimorum luporum educeretur praeda). Seneca notes that the accusers before the tribunal of the consuls complained that in death, Cordus escaped the punishment of execution. As they debated, Cordus died, freeing himself (ille se absolouerat, Cons. Marc. 22.7). Seneca recounts the story in order to explain how death frees us from the turns of adverse circumstances (iniquorum temporum uices, Cons. Marc. 22.8). Cordus retains and expresses his freedom through suicide rather than capitulating to autocratic forces. It is hardly a coincidence that Seneca’s recounting of Cordus’s death follows closely allusions to the deaths of Socrates and Cato whose suicides are paradigmatically virtuous (Cons. Marc. 22.3); later he has the Scipios, Catos, and Cordus (a coetus sacer) welcome Metilius to heaven (Cons. Marc. 25.1). Although a historian, Seneca casts Cordus in terms as exemplary as any philosopher. The account of Cordus’s death in chapter 22 leads directly to a discussion of the flight of the soul. Seneca claims that death essentially purifies the body: souls liberated from the body in 189 In the following sentence Seneca singles out Cordus’s eloquentia and libertas as the qualities that motivated the destruction of his writings. 190 Armisen-Marchetti 1995: 162 points out that the primary of value of history for Seneca is as a repository of positive and negative exempla. 139 death or through philosophy carry along the least amount of weight and dross (minimum enim faecis, ponderis traxerunt, Cons. Marc. 23.1). They fly back (reuolant) lighter (leuiores) and easily wash themselves of any smear or wear (facilius quidquid est illud obsoleti inlitique eluunt, Cons. Marc. 23.1). Through following virtue, Cordus secures himself from the vacillations of history in two senses. Seneca allies him with other philosophical figures whose intellect and virtue secure them literary and cultural immortality: stories and speeches associated with these paragons are endlessly repeated and, if they are writers, their works are endlessly read. More concretely, purified of any passive matter of the human body, the divine, active pneuma of the soul mingles with the divine fire that permeates the cosmos. Death realizes the union between the individual and god towards which Stoics constantly aspire. Seneca’s allusions to the flight of the soul recall Socrates’ description of philosophy in the Phaedo as a way of practicing death through separating the soul from the body. 191 He writes (Cons. Marc. 23.2), They are eager to set out and burst forth (exire atque erumpere), they scarcely endure these restrictions (has angustias), are accustomed to wander aloft (sublimes) through the universe and look down on human affairs from on high (ex alto adsueti humana despicere). Therefore Plato proclaims that the entire soul of the wise man (sapientis animum totum) reaches out, wants this, contemplates (meditari) this, and is always straining with this desire to be carried to the outer regions (ferri in exteriora). Seneca suggest that the soul can separate from its bodily confines to move among the stars. In dying as much as philosophizing, the soul separates from the body to look down on the world below: despicere connotes a moral judgment of scorn as much as a literal point of view. Seneca connects the literal view from above with the indifference of the sapiens towards fortune and 191 Cf. Phaedo 66b-c, 80e-81c, 82c, 83d. See Hadot 1995: 238-50 for a survey of the trope of the flight of the soul in multiple philosophical and literary contexts. Seneca is perhaps being rhetorical when, in describing the invulnerability of the disembodied soul, he writes, Mala enim bonaque circa aliquam uersantur materiam, Cons. Marc. 19.5). 140 externals, which he regards as insignificant. Cordus’s death is sage-like in multiple ways: death physically separates the soul from the body, 192 just as philosophy does, but the flight of death might also symbolically evoke Cordus’s virtuous scorn of externals, including his own life. Thus far, Seneca has described Cordus, though a historian, in specifically philosophical terms that accord with his own self-image. Cordus shows proper disregard for the turns of fortune, shows consistency in words and deeds, and has purified his soul. Near the end of the work, Seneca casts him in a role strikingly similar to Seneca’s, namely that of philosophical advisor. Cordus teaches Metilius the movements of nearby stars (uicinorum siderum meatus docet) and gladly leads him into the secrets of nature (in arcana naturae libens ducit, Cons. Marc. 25.2) Given that Seneca had in some sense been “initiating” Marcia into the secrets of the afterlife, perhaps ducit is best read in light of its full range of metaliterary associations. Seneca arguably guides Marcia up to heaven through the vividness of his account and he guides Metilius up to heaven as the composer of the text, just as Cordus guides the soul of Metilius into the arcana naturae. If the similarity between the two figures were not clear enough, Seneca writes that (Cons. Marc. 25.2), utque ignotarum urbium monstrator hospiti gratus est, ita sciscitanti caelestium causas domesticus interpres. as a guide of unfamiliar cities is pleasing to a guest, so a native interpreter is welcome to one inquiring about the causes of the heavens. Seneca himself had played a guide earlier in the text to one considering visiting Syracuse as well as a guide to the cosmos itself. 193 Through his description of Cordus, Seneca sets up a complex of interrelationships between himself, Cordus, Marcia, and Metilius. Seneca guides Marcia in 192 Cf. Cons. Marc. 24.5: Omne illi cum hac graui carne certamen est, ne abstrahatur et sidat; nititur illo unde demissus est. 193 See Cons. Marc. 17.2-6, 18.2-8. 141 part through his depiction of Cordus guiding Metilius; Cordus resembles Seneca himself insofar as he serves as guide to Metilius through the celestial regions. Cordus does not teach Metilius only about heavenly matters, but also directs his gaze towards the world below (et in profunda terrarum permittere aciem iubet) and notes that it is a pleasure to look from on high on what has been left behind (ex alto relicta respicere, Cons. Marc. 25.2). The gaze from on high of the world below leads to Seneca’s advice to Marcia about her comportment. Seneca beckons, “carry yourself as if always positioned under the eyes of your father and son” (tamquam sub oculis patris filique posita) and to blush to think anything lowly or common or to lament those relatives of yours changed into a better state (melius, Cons. Marc. 25.3). 194 Metilius and Cremutius Cordus become ideal exemplars in the afterlife. Their panoptic vision from heaven would seem to be identical with the vision of god, leading not only to perfect scientific knowledge, but also perfect ethical behavior; as such they are in a unique position to correct Marcia’s excessive mourning. Before Seneca introduces the extended speech of Cordus, he points out a few more significant details. He notes that Cordus and Metilius have flown through the free and empty spaces of eternal reality (Aeternarum rerum per libera et uasta spatia dimissi). Freed from their bodies, they are purified souls, presumably identical with designing fire, suffused throughout the entirety of the cosmos. Neither time nor space impedes their swift movement (Cons. Marc. 25.3): non illos interfusa maria discludunt nec altitudo montium aut inuiae ualles aut incertarum uada Syrtium: †omnium plana† et ex facili mobiles et expediti et in vicem pervii sunt intermixtique sideribus. The seas poured between do not separate them nor the height of mountains nor impassable valleys nor the shallows of the unpredictable Syrtis: all things are level and they move easily, are unencumbered, able to make their way by turns, and have become 194 Erubesce quicquam humile aut uulgare cogitare et mutatos in melius tuos flere!, Cons. Marc. 25.3. 142 intermingled with the stars. Son and grandson move easily with no bodies stopping them. Again, Seneca seems to imply a complete fusion between the individual soul and the divine fire, which though concentrated in the stars, pervades the cosmos. The flight of the souls, like the journey of the wise, is characterized as movement over a flat plane. Seneca’s description of their unhindered movement stands at odds with his descriptions earlier in the text. In describing Sicily in 17.2, he had noted that it was an island cut off from Italy (insulam ab Italia…interscissam). In the speech advising one being born, Seneca alludes to the islands sprinkled throughout the sea, which the ocean separates by its intervention (sparsae tot per uastum insulae, quae interuentu suo maria distinguunt, Cons. Marc. 18.5). The physical separations (interscissam, interuentu) that define earthly life are no impediments to the disembodied souls of Cordus and Metilius. It is important to point out that these forms of physical separation are evocative of forms of political separation as well. Seneca describes cities cut off from one another by natural boundaries earlier in the text in his speech advising one who is being born (Cons. Marc. 18.5). uarii urbium situs et seclusae nationes locorum difficultate, quarum aliae se in erectos subtrahunt montes, aliae †ripis lacu uallibus pauidae† circumfunduntur. (There are) various positions of cities and nations cut off by the difficulty of their locations, some of which draw themselves into tall mountains, others, fearful, are surrounded by the banks of rivers, a lake, and valleys. The political and geographic divisions that characterize human societies on earth disappear when souls are purified and mingle with the fiery stars. The mountains, impassible valleys, and rivers that cut one society off from another become insignificant. The soul recognizes none of these distinctions: all are kin and neither physical nor national boundaries affect the soul’s flight. Inasmuch as Metilius and Cordus are freed from their bodies, so too are they freed from all the 143 goods and ills that characterize life on earth, which are the explicit themes of the speeches in 17.2-5, 17.6-7, and 18.1-2. 195 Their unencumbered movement stands in explicit contrast to the fragmented character of terrestrial life. 196 Having cast Cremutius Cordus as a philosopher whose virtue would have been worth commemorating in one of his very own histories and later as a sage whose soul mingles with celestial bodies, Seneca beckons Marcia to imagine him addressing her from the peak of heaven (Puta itaque ex illa arce caelesti patrem tuum, Marcia… dicere) with as much authority to her as she had to her son (cui tantum apud te auctoritatis erat quantum tibi apud filium tuum). Seneca contrasts the speech that he gives with his ingenium in lamenting the civil wars (non illo ingenio quo civilia bella defleuit). Seneca’s impersonation effectively replaces the genre of history with philosophy. He notes that he spoke with a talent is as elevated as he himself is lofty (tanto elatiore, quanto est ipse sublimior, Cons. Marc. 26.1). On the one hand, Seneca summons up the authority that Cordus possesses for Marcia. However, he also revises his discourse such that he speaks in a philosophical rather than historical mode. Cordus’s later claims make explicit the subtle disdain for history that the passage above betrays (Cons. Marc. 26.5): ‘Iuuabat unius me saeculi facta componere in parte ultima mundi et inter paucissimos gesta: tot saecula, tot aetatium contextum, seriem, quidquid annorum est, licet uisere; licet surrectura, licet ruitura regna prospicere et magnarum urbium lapsus et maris nouos cursus.’ “It was pleasing to me once to compile the deeds of a single generation in the furthest 195 The speech of Nature given in Cons. Marc. 17.6-7, at five sentences (one of which is only two words), is a borderline case for inclusion in this document. Seneca seems to place much greater emphasis on the two speeches that surround it, one of which is given anonymously, the other in his own voice. 196 Seneca elsewhere describes death as a “dissolution of all suffering and a boundary beyond which our evils may not pass” (mors dolorum omnium exsolutio est et finis ultra quem mala nostra non exeunt, Cons. Marc. 19.5). 144 part of the universe carried out among the very few. One may view so many generations, the series and procession of so many ages including every year. One may see kingdoms rising and falling in the future and collapses of great cities and new passages of the sea.” Seneca contrasts the comparative myopia of Cordus’s focus on acta maiorum and saeculi facta with the philosopher’s grasp of the entire history of the world. Cordus sees far into the future. Note Seneca’s use of the words contextum and seriem: not only is this view of time greater, he also highlights the underlying continuity and interconnection of world events through fate. This all-embracing view of cosmic time makes the length of one’s entire life seem hardly even a tiny dot. 197 Seneca presents Cordus’s lofty, panoptic view through direct speech, as if he were speaking to Marcia in the present moment, perhaps as his and Seneca’s texts will continue to speak to future generations. While Seneca praises Marcia in the beginning of the work for preserving her father’s texts (Cons. Marc. 1.3), he preserves or rather recreates her father’s voice. Seneca seems to insinuate an analogy between the reader as they have now seen or heard the entirety of the text and Cordus’s apprehension of cosmic history. Cordus’s vision of the collapse of cities perhaps calls to mind Seneca’s earlier comparison between one’s lifetime and the age of cities. 198 The new passages of the sea (maris nouos cursus) might remind the reader of the rupture between Sicily and the mainland (subitum illo mare inrupit), which itself creates a new channel (freto, Cons. Marc. 17.2). Cordus’s view of the cosmos is even more expansive than the view from above given in the speech of 18.1-8 since it embraces not only the earth and heavens, but also the entirety of history. Cordus’s panoptic view from heaven presumably 197 Cf. Cons. Marc. 21.2: minorem portionem aetas nostra quam puncti habet, si omni tempori comparetur. 198 Computa urbium saecula: videbis quam non diu steterint etiam quae vetustate gloriantur. Omnia humana brevia et caduca sunt et infiniti temporis nullam partem occupantia, Cons. Marc. 21.1. 145 embraces the vivid scenes Seneca had already described. Throughout the rest of the speech, Cordus revisits points that Seneca makes throughout the text. Although Seneca assumes the speaking persona of Cordus and plays on Marcia’s filial piety in order to dissuade her from grief, Cordus’s speech nonetheless shows considerable continuity with the rest of the work. After asking her why sorrow has held her so long, Cordus asks (Cons. Marc. 26.2), “Why do you writhe around in such ignorance of the truth (ueri ignoratione) that you think your son was treated unfairly, since he has gone to his ancestors, although he and his home are undiminished (integer)?” Seneca makes similar points in several places earlier in the text. In 11.3-5, he gives an account of the human body, highlighting its vulnerability: he describes it as feeble, fragile, naked, defenseless, unable to endure cold, heat, labor, subject to hunger, prey for animals, ready to burst from overconsumption or starve from hunger. 199 In death, one is invulnerable to the blows of misfortune. 200 As Seneca had pointed out earlier, “death is a dispersal and end of every form of distress, beyond which no distress of ours passes” (Mors dolorum omnium exsolutio est et finis ultra quem mala nostra non exeunt, Cons. Marc. 19.5). Beyond this point, no goods or evil can pass; death is a release from all suffering. 201 The vulnerability of the body to misfortune and injury stands in stark contrast to the inviolability and boundlessness of Metilius and Cordus’s unencumbered souls. Cordus considers a number of other topics on which Seneca had already written. Cordus 199 Quid est homo? Inbecillum corpus et fragile, nudum, suapte natura inerme, alienae opis indigens, ad omnis fortunae contumelias proiectum… frigoris aestus laboris inpatiens… alimenta metuens sua, quorum modo inopia 〈deficit, modo copia〉 rumpitur… 200 Cf. Cons. Marc. 22.3: cum ista perspexeris, scies optime cum iis agi quos natura, quia illos hoc manebat uitae stipendium, cito in tutum recepit. 201 Cf. Cons. Marc. 19.5-20.6. 146 asks if he must name (nominem) kings (Regesne) who would have been most happy (felicissimos) if death had removed them sooner from evils (si maturius illos mors instantibus subtraxisset malis), Roman leaders (duces) whose greatness of soul would not have been diminished if they had died earlier, or very noble and famous men (nobilissimos uiros clarissimosque) who bowed to the blow of a soldier’s sword with subdued necks (Cons. Marc. 26.2). Seneca called attention to his own foregrounding of exempla early in the work 202 and in 12.4-5, he had noted that great leaders (duces), principes, and even gods alike experienced bereavement, after which he provided a series of noble exemplars, who endured misfortune calmly (Cons. Marc. 12.6-15.3). It is true that Seneca and Cordus cite exempla for different ends. Seneca had cited Octavia as woman who grieved excessively, Livia as a woman who restrained her grief well, and a series of male exemplars who suffered loss in spite of their nobility. Cordus on the other hand contrasts the terrible end that he and Marcia’s grandfather faced with the exceedingly fortunate (felicissime) death of Metilius. He explains that all of the deceased males of Marcia’s line are in one place (coimus omnes in unum) and that they are no longer surrounded by deep night (non alta nocte circumdati). He notes that they see nothing to be hoped for, nothing excellent, nothing splendid in her condition, but rather everything uncertain, lowly and grievous. 203 While Seneca cites those who endured grief well or badly, Cordus cites himself and Marcia’s grandfather as men whom death released from suffering. However, the intended effect is presumably the same: both figures deploy exempla in order to diminish Marcia’s grief through 202 Scio a praeceptis incipere omnis qui monere aliquem uolunt, in exemplis desinere. Mutari hunc interim morem expedit; aliter enim cum alio agendum est: quosdam ratio ducit, quibusdam nomina clara opponenda sunt et auctoritas quae liberum non relinquat animum ad speciosa stupentibus, Cons. Marc. 2.1. 203 Coimus omnes in unum uidemusque non alta nocte circumdati nil apud uos, ut putatis, optabile, nil excelsum, nil splendidum, sed humilia cuncta et grauia et anxia et quotam partem luminis nostri cernentia!, Cons. Marc. 26.3. 147 comparison with others. Seneca had already discussed Cordus’s own exemplary death at some length in 22.4-7, noting that he escaped the vacillations of history (temporum uices), a condition described in Cordus’s account of the afterlife. He explains that in heaven, no arms rage with mutual attacks (nulla hic arma mutuis furere concursibus), no fleets are shattered by other fleets (nec classes classibus frangi), there are no murders either conceived or imagined (nec parricidia aut fingi aut cogitari), and the forums are silent (nec fora litibus strepere dies perpetuos, Cons. Marc. 26.4). The troubles that plague us while we are alive are nowhere to be found in death, which is freedom from all misfortune. 204 Cordus’s allusion to the forum might remind the reader of an earlier passage in which Seneca encourages Marcia to think about the relation between her own individual condition and the condition of humanity as a whole (suae publicaeque condicionis, Cons. Marc. 11.1). He writes, “In this direction, that entire crowd, which litigates in the forum, advances at an unequal pace” (Hoc omnis ista quae in foro litigat… turba dispari gradu uadit, Cons. Marc. 11.2). Upon reaching this common end, the conflicts that characterize life on earth vanish. Cordus concludes his speech with a vision of ekpyrosis. He writes (Cons. Marc. 26.6), “For if the common fate can be of any solace for your desire (solacio esse desideri tui commune fatum), nothing will stand in the place where it now stands (nihil quo stat loco stabit), time will level (sternet) and withdraw everything with itself. It will play not only with men (for how small is that share of fortune’s influence?), but also with places, regions, and parts of the earth.” Cordus amplifies perhaps the most fundamental rhetorical topos of Ad Marciam: every individual both like and along with the entire cosmos will perish. This claim puts Marcia’s individual suffering into perspective as well as the small corner of the universe that humans 204 See p. 142 n196. 148 occupy. Seneca’s use of the word sternet recalls his earlier claim in 11.2: “one and the same ash will level what you hold dear, what you worship, and what you despise” (et quae diligis, ueneraris et quae despicis unus exaequabit cinis). Ekpyrosis, like death, levels all things by wiping out everything regardless of distinctions of status, class, gender, etc. 205 The regions that Seneca had previously described (Cons. Marc. 18.4-5), bounded by political and geographic boundaries are mingled together in ways that are symbolic of the commune fatum all denizens of the universe face. Cordus goes on to note that time will crush entire mountains (totos supprimet montes) and that time will raise new cliffs on high elsewhere (alibi rupes in altum nouas exprimet, Cons. Marc. 26.6) recalling the earlier description peaks of mountains rising aloft upright with great, snowy ridges (montium magnis et niualibus surgentium iugis erecti in sublime uertices, Cons Marc. 18.4). 206 Though he asserts that time will raise new cliffs, which will perhaps separate new fearful cities and nations, Cordus’s description shows these boundaries to be mutable and defined only temporarily. That such observations are put into Cordus’s mouth only underscores the discrepancy between his sage-like view of eternity and the boundaries symptomatic of the view of humans on earth. As Cordus describes this wiping out of divisions by time, Seneca calls into question the distinction between Cordus’s voice and the body of the text. Cordus continues with his catalogue of apocalyptic imagery. He notes that fatum will drink up the seas (maria sorbebit), change the course of rivers (flumina auertet), and pull cities into immense chasms (hiatibus uastis subducet urbes, Cons. Marc. 26.6). These descriptions 205 Cf. Cons. Poly. 1.1: septem illa miracula et si qua his multo mirabiliora sequentium annorum extruxit ambitio aliquando solo aequata uisentur. In Epistle 84, Seneca claims that the heights of excellence (dignitatis) are reached by a level path (venies ad summa per planum, 13). Like ekpyrosis, true wisdom levels all things. 206 Manning 1981: 151 points to similar periodic destructions described in Strabo (Geog. 1.3.3-4, 10, 16-20) and Pliny (N.H. 2.91.191-94, 206) 149 undoubtedly recall Charybdis, who swallows (sorbentem) ships with a great yawning (magno hiatu profundoque, Cons. Marc 17.2), mirroring and amplifying the image of destruction to a cosmic scale. The reversal of the directions of rivers might remind a reader of the rivers moving east and west from one source (ex uno fonte in occidentem orientemque diffusi amnes, Cons. Marc. 18.4), perhaps indicating an accumulation of water ready to burst forth from underground. Cordus then says that, “with the commerce of nations broken, it (time) will dissolve the communion and society of the human race” (commercio gentium rupto societatem generis humani coetumque dissoluet, Cons. Marc. 26.6). The stateless condition resultant from ekpyrosis is similar to the condition of souls after death, who are all akin (illic omnibus omne cognatum est, Cons. Marc. 25.2). Ekpyrosis obviates oikeiosis given that the souls of all mingle with celestial fire upon their death. 207 The passage’s intratextual connections call into question the distinction between Cordus and Seneca even as it recounts a merging of all things with the cosmic fire. Seneca has Cordus echo his own sentiments as if the text were modeling the dissolution that it describes. He describes the telos of the heavenly order and beauty described in 18.3, namely that the world will destroy itself only to renew itself and stars will run together with other stars. 208 He describes all matter engulfed in fire (omni flagrante materia uno igni quidquid nunc ex disposito lucet ardebit, Cons. Marc. 26.6). Seneca associates the end of the world with the end of the text, but these fires might remind the reader of the burning of Cremutius Cordus’s histories recounted 207 inundationibus quidquid habitatur obducet necabitque omne animal orbe submerso et ignibus uastis torrebit incendetque mortalia, Cons. Marc. 26.6. Manning 1981: 151 contrasts the role of floods in Plato and Aristotles’s cosmic histories, which counterbalance conflagration, with the Stoic cosmic history, in which floods are simply one of any number of other natural disasters which occurs as part of the cosmic cycle. 208 Videbis illic innumerabiles stellas micare, uidebis uno sidere omnia inpleri, solem cotidiano cursu diei noctisque spatia signantem, annuo aestates hiemesque aequalius[que] diuidentem. 150 in the opening of the work as well or cremation more generally (Cons. Marc. 1.3). The ring composition reinforces an affinity between the text and the cyclic destruction and recreation of the cosmos. 209 Seneca notes that the stars “will slaughter themselves with their own force” (uiribus ista se suis caedent, Cons. Marc. 26.6), as if they were committing suicide as Cordus had. Seneca’s account of ekpyrosis leads to an account of palingenesis. Cordus then says (Cons. Marc. 26.7), “Nos quoque felices animae et aeterna sortitae, cum deo uisum erit iterum ista moliri, labentibus cunctis et ipsae parua ruinae ingentis accessio in antiqua elementa uertemur.” “Likewise, we blessed souls, having been allotted eternity, when it will have seemed good to god to construct those things once again, as all things flow together, as a small addition to the vast collapse itself, we will change into our former elements.” Most Stoics believed in eternal recurrence, namely that the universe would be created exactly as it was before or almost exactly. 210 Though in antiqua elementa uertemur has an Epicurean flavor, Seneca might be describing the re-coupling of the soul with the body. The claim might have a slight metatextual flavor as well, given that Seneca hereafter resumes his authorial voice. This sentence, the second to last of De Consolatione Ad Marciam, associates the end of the text with the end of the cosmos. 211 A sage who appreciates the true nature of time would recognize the moment in which one reaches the end of the text is the same one in which the world itself 209 Seneca seems to posit a similar association between beginnings and ends of texts and cosmic cycles in the opening of Ad Polybium (1.1): ceterum quidquid coepit et desinit. Seneca might as well be talking about his own text, given the emphatic placement of the claim near the beginning of the text. 210 Cf. S.V.F. 1.109, 2.593, 596-7, 599, 623-627. 211 The association between the end of text and death itself can also be found in 23.3-5. Quidquid ad summum peruenit, ab exitu prope est… nam ubi incremento locus non est, uicinus occasus est… adpetit finis ubi incrementa consumpta sunt. Though Seneca describes the end of life, these claims can be read as anticipating the end of his own work, as if he has exhausted his subject. 151 perishes and is recreated: time is incorporeal and only the present moment exists. 212 Seneca’s text models the dissolution he describes, the end towards which all fates (Seneca, Metilius, and Cordus’s along with the universe’s) proceed. 4.B. He Consoled You: Areus’s Speech in Ad Marciam The speech of Areus in De Consolatione ad Marciam is hardly unusual in the context of consolatory literature. Areus praises Livia for guarding her positive reputation in spite of her grief and encourages her to keep up her efforts. Areus directs her attention away from her current pain towards happy memories of her son. Though Seneca depicts Areus speaking to Livia in the past, Seneca commands Marcia to change the persona so that Areus has consoled her. The relationship between Marcia and Areus can be read as paradigmatic of the relationship between Seneca and his broader audience. Seneca and Areus both speak across time to multiple audiences at once. Though he addresses his treatise to Marcia, at various points, he suggests Marcia’s condition and the condition of his broader readership overlap to the degree that Seneca might as well be speaking to the latter as well as the former. Seneca highlights the role of his addressee in guiding his instruction in the opening of the text. He notes that those who wish to admonish (qui monere… uolunt) typically begin with praecepta and end with exempla. However, as he points out, “Sometimes it is expedient to modify this custom; for one person should be dealt with differently from another” (Mutari hunc interim morem expedit; aliter enim cum alio agendum est, Cons. Marc. 2.1). It is true that Seneca tailors his advice specifically to Marcia’s circumstances. Manning 1981: 35-36 points out that famous historical exempla might have had an especial appeal for her as the daughter of a historian. Moreover, both of the exempla that Seneca adduces, Octavia and Livia, are powerful, 212 If even that. See L-S 51B. 152 prestigious women like Marcia. Seneca goes on to point out that reason (ratio) guides some, authority (auctoritas) and famous names (nomina clara) others (Cons. Marc. 2.1). On the surface, Seneca underscores the fact that his text suits Marcia in particular. In doing so, he implies that his audience may identify with Marcia and her circumstances only to a certain degree. However, again and again, Seneca encourages Marcia to think about herself in relation to humanity as a whole. The most common consolatory topos of De Consolatione ad Marciam is that death comes to all alike. 213 Again and again Seneca underscores the fact that Marcia is not unique among all humankind. Surely Seneca is not instructing Marcia in these instances: it is obvious that all humans die. Seneca is perhaps better read as reframing her circumstances in a broader context so as to draw her away from grief. Seneca’s exhortations to consider her lot in relation to the human condition as a whole cue his readers to consider the possibility that words meant to address Marcia’s grief and mourning may well apply to them as well. Insofar as Seneca invites Marcia to identify with humanity as a whole, so too does Seneca seem to open up the possibility of his audience’s identification with Marcia, if only to varying degrees depending on the particular passage. It is as if the specifics of Marcia’s identity fade in and out of focus throughout the course of the text. Seneca writes that we do not imagine (proponimus) any evil before it arrives and that we are not reminded by the misfortunes of others that they are the common lot (alienis non admonemur casibus illos esse communes, Cons. Marc. 9.1). He points out that though funerals 213 Seneca is well aware that the topos is obvious. Cf. Cons. Marc. 12.5: ridiculum est enim mortalitatis exempla colligere. In Epistles 94 and 95, Seneca groups consolatio with praecepta (94.21, 94.39, 94.49, 95.34, 95.65). These refresh the memory and separate out otherwise jumbled matters (Ep. 94.21) and draw attention to things that we already know, but might be overlooking (Ep. 94.25-26). The emotional and psychological effect of such claims is at least as, if not more significant than, their objective content. 153 may be led past our home (domum nostram), we do not think of death (de morte non cogitamus). Seneca’s use of first person plurals and the first person possessive pronoun is significant: he includes himself, Marcia, his broader readership, and people on the whole. He goes on to write that poverty falls upon the wealthy right before our eyes (tot diuitum subita paupertas in oculos incidit, Cons. Marc. 9.2). His rhetorical aim in the passage is to emphasize to Marcia how subject humans are to misfortune, be it death, poverty, or injury. 214 In highlighting the precarious position of the wealthy, Seneca suggests that their lot may be the same as anyone else’s depending on the turns of fortune. Later, Seneca takes pains to tell Marcia that the gods did not single her, she who was not allowed to enjoy her son (Ne illud quidem dicere potes, electam te a dis cui frui non liceret filio, Cons. Marc. 12.4); in other words, there is nothing exceptional about her loss. He commands Marcia to cast her eyes upon all those she knows and those she does not know; he writes, that those who have suffered worse in all circumstances will meet her gaze (occurrent tibi passi ubique maiora, Cons. Marc. 12.4). More specifically, he notes that great leaders, principes, and even gods have felt what she has felt (Senserunt ista magni duces, senserunt principes; ne deos quidem fabulae immunes reliquerunt, Cons. Marc. 12.4). Seneca effaces the differences between rich and poor, elites and non-elites, humans and gods, and Marcia, Seneca, and humanity on the whole. Seneca makes the point most explicitly and clearly in the passage below (Cons. Marc. 15.4): Do you not see how copious the supply of great men (copia virorum maximorum) is, whom misfortune, overturning everything (omnia prosternens), does not exempt, and upon whom so many goods of the soul, so many public and private honors had been conferred? But it is clear that that storm proceeds into the world and desolates everything 214 Cf. Cons. Marc. 10.6: In regnum fortunae et quidem durum atque inuictum peruenimus, illius arbitrio digna atque indigna passuri. 154 without discrimination and drives it away as its own. Enjoin each person to apply reason (conferre rationem); it has befallen none to be born unpunished. 215 Although Seneca addresses a woman, he highlights men of rank (uirorum maximorum) above. Death evaporates distinctions in gender and status. 216 No one and nothing escapes its pull. Though the Stoics admitted significant differences between personae, Seneca emphasizes the persona all people share as members of the human race. 217 Individual identity has only a limited, passing relevance in Seneca’s consolatory rhetoric. The most important difference Seneca seeks to efface is that of gender. 218 Seneca’s consolation to Marcia frequently opens up to speak to a broader, mixed-gender readership. 219 The fact that the text was intended to be published and disseminated to a wider audience is not doubted by scholars; however, few have analyzed how the split between implicit and explicit audiences relates to Seneca’s consolatory aims. 220 Though Seneca discusses Marcia’s particular circumstances, some of those descriptions can be read as potentially addressing a much larger audience, which would have included both women and men. Seneca opens the text by claiming 215 Cf. Cons. Marc. 10.5: Si mortuum tibi filium doles, eius temporis quo natus est crimen est; mors enim illi denuntiata nascenti est; in hanc legem genitus 〈est〉, hoc illum fatum ab utero statim prosequebatur. 216 Cf. Cons. Marc. 20.2: Haec seruitutem inuito domino remittit; haec captiuorum catenas leuat; haec e carcere educit quos exire imperium inpotens uetuerat; haec exulibus in patriam semper animum oculosque tendentibus ostendit nihil interesse infra quos quis iaceat; haec, ubi res communes fortuna male diuisit et aequo iure genitos alium alii donauit, exaequat omnia. 217 Cicero’s 4 personae theory in the avowedly Stoic De Officiis (1.93-151) explains that each human has one persona common to all humans, one persona based on personality, another based on circumstance, and a fourth based on individual choice, though how one reconciles each of these personae within himself or herself is not entirely clear. 218 At the risk of stating the obvious, Seneca was not a feminist. Lavery 1997: 3-13 surveys Seneca’s claims about women, the vast majority of which are strikingly negative. On the role of women in Stoicism, see Engel 2003: 267-88. 219 Manning 1981: 6 points out that Seneca lapses into using masculine participles in 9.3, 17.1, and 18.4. 220 Cf. Wilcox 2006: 75. 155 that he knows Marcia is “as far removed from the weakness of a female mind as from all other vices” (tam longe ab infirmitate muliebris animi quam a ceteris uitiis recessisse) and that men (uiri) also cling (haerent) and brood (incubant) over the same grief. He goes on to note that her strength of mind (robur animi) and virtue have given him the faith to undertake the endeavor of writing the consolation (Cons. Marc. 1.1). On the one hand, Seneca characterizes Marcia’s uniqueness vis-à-vis her gender. Yet the very hardiness that makes Marcia exceptional among women also might make a text written for her appropriate for a man. In highlighting Marcia’s unusually masculine qualities, Seneca implies that at least some of the advice that he gives to her might apply equally well to his male readership as well. 221 In other passages, Seneca seems to diminish the significance of Marcia’s identity, if only temporarily. Later he writes (Cons. Marc. 1.5), This greatness of your soul (Haec magnitudo animi tui) has prevented me from paying attention to your sex (ad sexum tuum respicere), your face (ad uultum), which, for so many years, unremitting sadness holds as it once covered (obduxit). In praising her exemplary magnitudo animi, he consciously overlooks both her sex and appearance. Magnitudo animi is best understood within this context as the ability to rise above the vacillations of fortune. It would seem any possessor of magnitudo animi would resemble another, insofar as they have risen above their particular external circumstances. 222 Seneca sometimes diminishes the importance of her son’s identity as well. Though Seneca does occasionally provide some details about the boy, in describing his death, he seems to suggest that he loses his identifying qualities (Cons. Marc. 24.5): 221 This can be read in more extreme terms, as Wilcox points out. “If Cloelia, Cornelia, Livia, and now Marcia and Helvia can also meet these masculine standards or exceed them, how much more shameful for a male reader of Seneca’s consolation who fails to conquer grief?” (2006: 93). 222 Seneca notes that Aemilius Paulus (Cons. Marc. 13.4), Cornelia (Cons. Marc. 16.4), and Cremutius Cordus (Cons. Marc.. 26.3) all have magni animi. On the history of the phrase magnitudo animi, see Knoche 1935. 156 No more than the image (Imago) of your son has died and a likeness not too similar (effigies non simillima); indeed he is eternal (aeternus) and now in a better state, stripped of burdens not his own and left to himself (despoliatus oneribus alienis et sibi relictus). These things that you see (uides) surrounding us (circumiecta nobis), bones, nerves and overlaid skin and a face (obductam cutem uultumque) and helping hands and other things in which we have been enveloped (inuoluti sumus), are chains and concealments (uincula animorum tenebraeque) of souls. Seneca makes similar claims elsewhere in the text. 223 Death physically strips away the identifying marks of Marcia’s son, as if to make him anonymous. Seneca notes that these visible, perishable characteristics are not part of him, which is to say not part of his eternal soul. 224 The physical effects of death are similar to those of Seneca’s rhetoric, both of which obscure individuality, at least to a certain degree. 225 Elsewhere, Seneca argues that differences between genders on the whole are of limited relevance given the fact that men and women possess the same, shared nature. Seneca-qua- interlocutor points out in 16.1 that Seneca-qua-Seneca has forgotten that he is consoling a woman given that the exempla he cites are men. Seneca responds (Cons. Marc. 16.1), Quis autem dixit naturam maligne cum mulierum ingeniis egisse et uirtutes illarum in artum retraxisse? par illis, mihi crede, uigor, par ad honesta, libeat 〈modo〉, facultas est; dolorem laboremque ex aequo, si consuevere, patiuntur. Indeed who said that nature had dealt grudgingly with the characters of women and had held back their virtues in a restricted scope? Believe me, their strength is equal, their power for noble actions, only if they should wish, is equal; they endure grief and hardship equally, if they have accustomed themselves. 223 Cf. Cons. Marc. 11.3-4, 23.1-2, 25.1. 224 Cf. Cons. Marc. 25.2: Proinde non est quod ad sepulcrum fili tui curras: pessima eius et ipsi molestissima istic iacent, ossa cineresque, non magis illius partes quam uestes aliaque tegimenta corporum. Integer ille nihilque in terris relinquens sui fugit et totus excessit. 225 History has in some sense colluded with Seneca’s effacement of Marcia and Metilius’s identities. Outside of remarks in Ad Marciam, almost no biographical information on either survives. 157 While earlier in the text, Seneca singles out Marcia as a uniquely virtuous woman, who possesses at least some masculine qualities, here he suggests that women on the whole share the same virtues as men. Manning 1981: 87 points out that Stoic orthodoxy, “held that women have the same capacity for virtue as men and that virtue is essentially the same in both sexes.” 226 In highlighting the shared virtues of men and women, Seneca seems to imply that a consolation written for a virtuous woman might speak just as well to virtuous men. One reason for Seneca’s choice of a female addressee might have been that it opened up rhetorical avenues through which to consider the relative uniformity of the human race, in spite of individual differences. Seneca attributes any weakness that women might be thought to possess to habituation, not nature; if women have accustomed themselves (si consueuere), they can endure just as well as men. He claims that it is not natural to be broken (frangi) by grief because it wounds women more than men, barbarians more than the civilized, the uneducated more than the educated; however, he points out that grief is by nature equally powerful in all circumstances and bases nothing on social role (in personam, Cons. Marc. 7.3-4). 227 Seneca seems to be offering something of a social-constructionist argument that women are vexed more by bereavement than men not because of natural weakness, but rather due to acculturation. 228 Whatever strength men possess, which allows them to better endure bereavement, is a result of habituation rather than nature, which admits no variability (non esse naturale quod uarium est, Cons. Marc. 7.3). Pain 226 Cf. SVF 3.253. Engel 2003: 267-88 is the most recent, comprehensive analysis of the place of women in Stoicism. Cf. Schofield 1991: 43. 227 Vt scias autem non esse hoc naturale, luctibus frangi, primum magis feminas quam uiros, magis barbaros quam placidae eruditaeque gentis homines, magis indoctos quam doctos eadem orbitas uulnerat. Atqui quae a natura uim acceperunt eandem in omnibus seruant: apparet non esse naturale quod uarium est. Ignis omnes aetates omniumque urbium ciues, tam uiros quam feminas uret; ferrum in omni corpore exhibebit secandi potentiam. Quare? quia uires illis a natura datae sunt, quae nihil in personam constituit. 228 Manning 1981: 56-57 calls it an inversion of the Stoic doctrine of general consent. 158 and loss afflict men, women, Romans, foreigners, the educated, and the ignorant; only through conditioning does one learn to better endure grief. Marcia, insofar as she has accustomed herself, can endure her own loss as well as any man. Though Seneca privileges the ways in which men are cultivated in his society in his claim that masculine behavior is in accordance with nature, his argument lacks the essentializing force common to other ancient arguments about the strength of men and women. 229 Seneca in fact suggests that this text written for Marcia might not only speak to men, but also to other women. He writes (Cons. Marc. 11.1-2). And so you most of all must be restrained (Moderandum est itaque uobis maxime), you who react (fertis) immoderately, and the strength of your human heart ought to be arranged against many sources of distress. What then is that forgetfulness of one’s own and the common condition (Quae deinde ista suae publicaeque condicionis obliuio est)? You were born mortal, you gave birth to mortals… Towards this end advances at an unequal pace that entire crowd (omnis… turba dispari gradu uadit), which litigates in the forum, which applauds in theaters, which prays in temples; one and the same ash will level (unus exaequabit cinis) what you hold dear, what you worship, and what you despise. Plainly, that pronouncement attributed to the Pythian oracles says this: know thyself (NOSCE TE). Though addressing an individual woman, Seneca lapses into the plural, noting again that women suffer grief more acutely than men. He also connects Marcia’s condition to the condition of humanity as a whole and the conditions of her birth to the birth of her son. The images of the crowds in the forum, theaters, and temples further underscore the connection between Marcia’s condition and humanity’s condition as a whole. Given his aims in the passage, Seneca might be hinting at an association between the fires of cremation, which was the primary means of corpse 229 Cf. Aristot. De Generatione Animalium 775a. Manning 1981: 56-57 cites the same passage of Aristotle, though he misreads Seneca’s argument. Seneca is claiming that it is not according to nature that bereavement wounds women more than men. 159 disposal in ancient Rome, and ekpyrosis, which consumes all things. 230 The passage culminates in a piece of gnomic wisdom prevalent throughout Greek and Latin literature: know thyself. 231 The fact that so many have uttered or written this phrase testifies to its wide applicability to a variety of individuals and contexts. 232 This gnomic flavor accords with Seneca’s aims in the passage, namely to bring to Marcia’s attention the fact that her own situation is not unique, but rather is part of the human condition. Note however that Seneca does not technically issue the command to Marcia. Rather he is simply noting what the pronouncement attributed to the Pythian oracles says. The obvious implication, however, is that the text that Seneca cites is really directed towards Marcia: she is the subject of the imperative and its direct object. The relationship between Marcia and this piece of gnomic wisdom is similar to the relationship between the text and its broader readership. Seneca seems to imply that at certain moments to varying degrees, the audience might see themselves as the subject of the text just as he expects Marcia to see herself as the subject of the oracular pronouncement. 233 Seneca invites Marcia and implicitly his broader audience to read the speech of Areus in the same way as he instructs Marcia to read the Delphic injunction. Areus is identified with Areius Didymus, philosopher in the household of Augustus originally from Alexandria. Aside 230 Seneca elsewhere notes that ash levels all (aequat omnis cinis, Ep. 91.16). On cremation, see Habinek 2016. Cremation was the primary, indeed almost exclusive means of corpse disposal in Rome 231 Wilkins 1917 collects all the appearances of this saying in Greek and Latin literature and surveys its possible meanings. Seneca cites the same oracle in Ep. 94.27 in a discussion on how praecepta can have a positive effect through bypassing reason and going straight to the emotions (adfectus). 232 Plutarch notes how relevant this phrase is to a wide variety of people and circumstances (Cons. Ap. 28-29). 233 It is worth pointing out that in the Charmides, Plato describes the phrase, which was inscribed on the Temple of Apollo, as greeting from the god to each specific person who entered (164d). 160 from brief allusions in Suetonius (Div. Aug. 89) and Aelian (V.H. 12.25) to his role as teacher of Augustus, little is known of his life. 234 Stobaeus preserves an epitome on Stoic and Peripatetic ethics attributed to Areus in his Eclogae (2.5-12). 235 Plutarch in the Life of Antony notes that Areus provided Augustus with philosophical maxims in verse (80-81). Though most likely written during Caligula’s reign, Seneca’s depiction of Areus anticipates his own role as advisor to Nero. 236 Seneca introduces the speech as part of the exemplum of Livia, though in presenting the imagined words of Areus in direct speech, he might be implying that Areus is a positive exemplum for himself as well. He begins the speech by praising Livia for attending above all to her repute and doing nothing to incur public censure. 237 Areus praises her efforts, noting his esteem for those rulers who pardon many things, but seek pardon for none (multarum rerum ueniam dare, nullius petere, Cons. Marc. 4.4). Seneca follows a similar strategy in the opening of Ad Marciam: he praises Marcia’s masculine strength and the preservation of the writings of her father (1.1-4), before attempting to mitigate and eventually banish her grief. Both figures offer blandishment before critique. Areus beckons Livia to continue her habits of correct behavior in order to avoid regret. Areus ensures that his advice is seen positively; he glides from flattery to encouragement in order to avoid any hint of impudence. He goes on to the body of his speech, in which he encourages Livia to listen to praise of her son, Drusus. He notes that others 234 Cassius Dio 51.16 claims that he was with Augustus during his sack of Alexandria and Livian Or. 8.265C-D claims that Augustus offered Areus the governorship of Egypt, which he turned it down. Seneca notes that Areus was Augustus’s constant companion (Cons. Marc. 4.3). 235 Diels 1879: 447-74 collects all of the fragments. 236 On the dating of the treatise, see Sauer 2014a: 135. 237 Abel 1967: 17-18 explains that Seneca was not referring to any speech of Areus’s; he cites both the phrase ut opinor (Cons. Marc. 4.3) and the fact that Livia was adopted into the Livian gens in 14 A.D., well after the death of Drusus in 9 B.C. See Manning 1981: 45-46 for the history of the debate regarding Seneca’s source for the speech and 47 for other consolatory material that emphasizes the role of public scrutiny in mourning. 161 are not sure whether mentioning Drusus’s name will cause her pain or if she would be hurt by their forgetting him. He notes that withdrawn, they celebrate his words and deeds (facta eius dictaque… celebramus), though they remain silent in her presence (Cons. Marc. 5.2). Areus points out that she is missing out on a great deal of pleasure in not listening to praise of her son (Cares itaque maxima uoluptate, filii tui laudibus, Cons. Marc. 5.2). He beckons her to endure, nay invite conversation (patere, immo arcesse sermones) about her son and to offer her open ears to his name and memory (apertas aures praebe ad nomen memoriamque filii tui, Cons. Marc. 5.3). 238 Having proceeded gracefully and tactfully from flattery to encouragement, Areus then moves on to critique (Cons. Marc. 5.4): ‘Nunc incubuisti tota in alteram partem et oblita meliorum fortunam tuam qua deterior est aspicis. Non conuertis te ad conuictus filii tui occursusque iucundos, non ad pueriles dulcesque blanditias, non ad incrementa studiorum: ultimam illam faciem rerum premis; in illam, quasi parum ipsa per se horrida sit, quidquid potes congeris.’ “Now you have brooded entirely over one part and, forgetful of better things, you look at your fortune on its worse side. You neither turn yourself to the pleasant association and meetings with your son, nor to his childish and sweet blandishments, nor to the development of his studies. You pursue that final appearance of things; you heap on top of that whatever you can, as if it were not horrible enough in itself.” Areus’s argument is fairly straightforward. In preoccupying herself with present sorrows, she forgets about past goods. 239 Areus seeks to bring to her attention the goods that she has experienced from her son’s life. Later, Seneca notes that Areus attempted to guide her attention to her living son and grandchildren (Cons. Marc. 5.6). Areus goes on to note the difficulties of 238 Shelton 1995: 178-79 points out that Octavia, a negative exemplum, had similar problems hearing and reading about her son. Cf. Cons. Marc. 2.4. 239 See Manning 1981: 48 for similar arguments in other consolatory treatises. On Seneca’s use of arguments drawn from different philosophical schools in his consolations, see Manning 1974: 71-81 and Wilson 2013: 93-122. 162 braving misfortune, drawing a comparison to seafaring, and encourages her to stand firm (Cons. Marc. 5.5-6). Upon its conclusion, Seneca reframes Areus’s speech to Livia, writing, “There, Marcia, your grief was handled, Areus counseled you: change the persona, he consoled you” (Tuum illic, Marcia, negotium actum, tibi Areus adsedit; muta personam—te consolatus est, Cons. Marc. 6.1). We have already seen the various ways in which Seneca opens the door for his broader audience to read their way into Marcia’s position through effacing her individual identity at various points in the text. Here, however, he explicitly suggests that Marcia become such a reader herself and adopt Livia’s position. Seneca had used the word muto earlier (Mutari hunc…morem) in order to characterize his own alteration of consolatory custom for Marcia on the grounds that “different people need to be treated differently” (aliter enim cum alio agendum est, Cons. Marc. 2.1); here he teaches Marcia and by extension his broader audience how to appropriate for themselves instruction meant for someone else. At the same time, Seneca’s injunction to change the persona can be understood as directed towards Seneca’s broader audience to read both Areus’s speech and the De Consolatione ad Marciam as a whole metaleptically or, in other words, to see themselves addressed in Seneca’s text. Reading one’s way into Seneca’s text seems all the more appropriate in light of the degree to which Seneca emphasizes Marcia’s common, human condition, which she shares with Seneca’s broader audience and the power of death to erase the distinguishing marks of identity. Seneca’s injunction to change the persona is also evocative of his own method of composition whereby he assumed the persona of Areus and consoled Livia. Changing persona whether in the course of composition or through readerly appropriation turns the words meant for one audience towards another. This adaptability seems resultant from the fact that, as Seneca hyperbolically claimed 163 before, “nature bases nothing upon social role” (natura… nihil in personam constituit, Cons. Marc. 7.4). The distinction between personae matters less in Ad Marciam than what personae have in common. Through changing persona, Marcia or any other reader might find themselves addressed within Seneca’s text. 4.C. The Imperial Consoler: Claudius’s Speech in Ad Polybium While Seneca calls attention to specific aspects of Polybius’s identity and circumstances, he does so in ways that cast him as a cipher for Seneca himself, in part through his and Polybius’s relationship to Claudius. Seneca invites comparison between his misery in exile, which prevents him from consoling Polybius successfully, and Polybius’s grief, which prevents him from successfully consoling his brothers. He describes Polybius’s studia in ways that could be applied to his own. He highlights the public scrutiny that Polybius faces in ways that seem to mirror the scrutiny that Seneca himself might have faced, at least if the writings of later authors offer any indication. Seneca characterizes both Polybius and Claudius as consolatores like himself. Midway through the work, Seneca somewhat abruptly shifts from dissuading Polybius from grief to praising Claudius. He encourages Polybius to record Claudius’s deeds in Claudius’s style and anticipates Polybius’s imitation by providing him with an example, namely an extended prosopopoeia in the voice of Claudius recounting how great figures from Roman history endured loss. 240 Although he claims that Claudius had offered him consolation previously and beckons him to imagine Claudius addressing him in the present, Seneca later in the text claims that he (Seneca) said these words to Polybius, thereby highlighting the ultimately fictive distinction between his and Claudius’s voice. He implies that Claudius might offer him solace by granting him a remission from exile inasmuch as Claudius might dissuade Polybius from grief. 240 Cons. Poly. 14.2-16.3. 164 While Seneca insinuates that his consolation explicitly addressed to Marcia might implicitly address his broader audience, Seneca seems to suggest that in consoling Polybius, he might in fact be consoling himself. Seneca implies a comparison between his misery in exile and Polybius’s grief at multiple times in Ad Polybium. He notes that many thousands of men must be heard and petitions be dealt with; so great is the mass of things that must be brought before the mind of the emperor. Seneca explains that in order to hear the lamentations of the multitudes and dry the tears of those desiring the pity of the most merciful Caesar, Polybius must dry his own tears (ut multos flentes audire possis… et ad misericordiam mitissimi Caesaris peruenire cupientium, lacrimae tibi tuae adsiccandae sunt, Cons. Poly. 6.5). Seneca suggests that Polybius will be both consolation and consoler if he can restrain his mourning (Cons. Poly. 5.5): Et solacium debes esse illorum et consolator; non poteris autem horum maerori obstare, si tuo indulseris. And you ought to be their consolation and consoler; you will, however, not be able to block their mourning if you indulge your own. His injunction to Polybius to be both a solacium and consolator anticipates a more extensive implied comparison between Polybius and Claudius discussed later in the chapter. Seneca’s admonishment that his indulgence of grief may prevent him from consoling others well looks forward to Seneca’s own expression of difficulty in writing the consolation given his own sorrows. 241 In the finale of the work, Seneca apologizes for the quality of the text he has just written, claiming that it comes as a result of already long neglected disuse (longo iam situ obsoleto) of language and a dulled spirit (hebetato animo). Seneca writes that if it does not seem to respond sufficiently to Polybius’s intellect or if it does not ameliorate his grief, Polybius ought to consider that one is not able to be available for another’s consolation, when his own 241 Cf. Cons. Poly. 18.9: quam non possit is alienae uacare consolationi quem sua mala occupatum tenent. 165 evils hold him occupied (quam non possit is alienae uacare consolationi quem sua mala occupatum tenent, Cons. Poly. 18.9). The predicaments of addressor and addressee dovetail emphatically near the end of the text. Seneca’s difficulty in composing Ad Polybium is similar to Polybius’s difficulty in carrying out his duty in the midst of his grief. Neither can adequately console another while in need of consolation. Seneca’s admission of his difficulty in writing the text invites comparison to an earlier passage in which he writes that he will shed whatever tears he has left for Polybius’s benefit, having already mourned his own misfortune (non recuso quidquid lacrimarum fortunae meae superfuit tuae fundere) and that his eyes are already exhausted by tears for his own circumstances (inueniam etiamnunc per hos exhaustos iam fletibus domesticis oculos quod effluat, Cons. Poly. 2.1). Following this claim, Seneca enjoins Polybius to join him in lament (conqueramur, atque adeo ipse hanc litem meam faciam, Cons. Poly. 2.2); he uses the same language (conqueramur) later when he merges his voice with Polybius’s in a second lamentation of fortune (Cons. Poly. 3.3-4). Seneca reinforces the parallelism between the figures through inviting comparison between discussing Polybius’s grief and his misery in exile and giving speeches that merge their voices together in lamentations of misfortune. Seneca suggests a similarity between their roles as consolatores as well. He notes that there is no need for Polybius to change his habits since he has already established his love of studia, which best magnify happiness and most easily diminish misfortune (facillime minuunt calamitatem) and are at the same time the greatest ornaments and consolations for a man (eademque et ornamenta maxima homini sunt et solacia, Cons. Poly. 18.1). 242 Moreover, he goes on to enjoin Polybius to direct the entirety of his eloquence towards his consolation (tota se in 242 Seneca offers his mother the same advice in Helv. 17.3. 166 solacium tuum conferat, Cons. Poly. 18.4). Seneca encourages Polybius to take on a similar role as consolator as he occupies within the text. Presumably at least parts of the text might furnish him with materia, if not the text as a whole. In highlighting the consolatory function of studia, Seneca raises the possibility that he is consoling himself through consoling Polybius. Many of Seneca’s descriptions of Polybius’s literary pursuits and celebrity could be applied to Seneca himself. He reminds Polybius of the great spirit with which he had thundered with powerful words (quanto spiritu ingentibus intonueris uerbis). He notes, “it will shame you all of a sudden to fall short and degenerate from such greatness of speech” (pudebit te subito deficere et ex tanta orationis magnitudine desciscere). He writes (Cons. Poly. 11.6), Ne commiseris ut quisquis exempto modo scripta tua mirabitur quaerat quomodo tam grandia tamque solida tam fragilis animus conceperit. See to it that no one who recently was astonished at your writings as a model should wonder how a mind so fragile could produce works so grand and solid. Judging by later writers’ condemnations, it seems possible that Seneca might have received the reaction that he fears Polybius will receive, namely wonderment over the discrepancy between the immoral life and moral writings. 243 Perhaps one reason why Seneca apologizes for the quality of Ad Polybium at its end is because of his audience’s acquaintance with his own grand and solid writings, which suggest by comparison that the current work was composed by a mind made fragile by exile. Cassius Dio records an anecdote that Seneca was actually so ashamed of his own text that he attempted to destroy it (61.10.2f). Seneca’s compliments of Polybius’s translation of others’ carmina into prose might remind the reader of his tragedies. He writes (Cons. Poly. 11.5), Thus indeed you have transferred (transtulisti) all those things from one language to another (ex alia lingua in aliam) so that all the virtues (omnes virtutes) have followed you 243 Seneca responds to such criticisms in De Vita Beata, which was written after his exile. 167 into foreign speech (in alienam te orationem), a most difficult feat. Polybius is able to imitate an original work in a foreign language, preserving its virtues. His translations might remind the reader of Seneca’s composition of Latin tragedies based on Greek originals. 244 In a passage already discussed, Seneca had lamented the deterioration of his Latin through an Ovidian echo. 245 Seneca singles out Polybius’s ability to retain the virtues of the poetic original in a prose translation, even as his own text translates (carries over) Ovidian exile poetry into prose. 246 Seneca’s description of the weight of popular opinion on Polybius might apply to Seneca himself. He writes (Cons. Poly. 6.3), multa tibi non permittit opinio de studiis ac moribus tuis recepta, multum a te homines exigunt, multum expectant. The received opinion about your literary pursuits and habits does not allow you much; people demand much from you, they expect much. Seneca and Polybius are both literary celebrities; both need to perform for the public in order not to disappoint their admirers and loved ones. Seneca’s description of Polybius’s mores might be a means of addressing his own reception, especially questions regarding whether or not his own mores are consistent with his studia, i.e. his philosophical-literary output. In describing the expectations of the public for Polybius, Seneca perhaps betrays anxiety about meeting (or having disappointed) popular expectations of his audience after being charged with adultery or even on account of composing the present text. He goes on to describe Polybius’s literary achievements and the onus that comes with them in ways that resonate with his own (Cons. Poly. 6.3), 244 Marshall 2014: 37 dates three tragedies (Agamemnon, Phaedra, and Oedipus) to the period of exile, during which Seneca composed Ad Polybium. 245 Cf. Tr. 3.1.17-18, 3.14.47, 5.7.57-58, 5.12.57-58, Pont. 4.2.15-24, 4.13.17-18. On Ovidian echoes in Seneca’s exilic works, see Degl’Innocenti Pierini 1980: 109-43. 246 On the Roman notion of translation, which is broader than our modern notion, see McElduff 2013. 168 All who praise works of your genius (opera ingenii tui laudant), who transcribe (describunt) them, who need your genius (ingenio opus est), though not your fortune, are overseers of your soul (custodes animi tui sunt). Therefore you are never able to do anything unworthy (indignum) of the profession of a sage 247 and an educated man (perfecti et eruditi uiri professione), lest it cause many to be ashamed of their admiration for you (non multos admirationis de te suae paeniteat). 248 Seneca commands his addressee not to weep excessively, sleep through the day, flee to the country, see shows, or order his day according to his own desire (Cons. Poly. 6.4). Is it a coincidence that Seneca, who was charged with adultery and was well known for his own ingenium, now warns Polybius not to act hypocritically, i.e. behave in a way at odds with his literary repute? Does Seneca warn Polybius based on his own experience, having seen his stock fall as a result of behavior or writing at odds with his renown as a Stoic philosopher? Answers must remain speculative given the notoriously scarce biographical evidence, though the text can be understood as raising such questions. Seneca’s exhortations regarding Polybius’s performance for the public and his brothers are reminiscent of Seneca’s literary performance in the text. 249 In order to stop his useless tears, Seneca encourages Polybius to consider himself an exemplum for his brothers through his brave endurance of Fortune’s injustice (fortiter hanc fortunae iniuriam sustinendi). He suggests that Polybius act as generals do in the midst of adversity, who simulate happiness (hilaritatem simulent) and mask misfortunes with feigned joy (aduersas res adumbrata laetitia abscondant) lest the spirits of the soldiers sink (Cons. Poly. 5.4). He commands Polybius to assume an expression dissimilar to his spirit and, if possible, to cast out his sorrow; if that is impossible, he commands him to hide and contain it within so that his brothers copy (imitentur) him, thinking 247 For the translation of perfecti as sage, see Basore 1932: 373. 248 Areus gives Livia similar advice in Cons. Marc. 4.3. See 249 Fantham 2007: 190 notes the possibility of a comparison between Polybius and Seneca’s misfortunes, though does not fully explore it. 169 him noble and adopting his spirit as shown by his expression. 250 Seneca’s primary concern is how Polybius’s mourning will affect his brothers who are prone to imitate him whether he is happy or sad. His brothers copy his behaviors; his audience copies (describunt, Cons. Poly. 6.3) his texts, at least parts of which he might copy from Seneca and Claudius. 251 He notes, “The consensus of men has conferred upon you a great role” (Magnam tibi personam hominum consensus inposuit, Cons. Poly. 6.1). The word persona is rich with theatrical connotations, especially in light of the fact that Seneca had just exhorted him to assume an expression at odds with his soul. Seneca then writes, “This (role) should be maintained by you” (haec (persona) tibi tuenda est). The word tuenda denotes a watchful gaze; the primary meaning of the term is to look at, scan, view (OLD 1). Seneca can be read as exhorting himself as much as Polybius insofar as his text might be considered part of his own studia, i.e. his own consolation. After explaining that a whole crowd of consolers, which might include Seneca, looks to him and assesses his strength, he writes, “Your eyes are watched,” (Obseruantur oculi tui) further emphasizing the mirroring gaze of the public (Cons. 6.1). 252 He notes that Polybius can have no 250 Seneca elsewhere notes that Polybius’s deceased brother had moulded himself after him (Cons. Poly. 3.2): Ad exemplum se modestiae tuae formauerat. The fact that Seneca himself had fairly famous brothers reinforces the parallelism between the two figures. Seneca’s famous father refers to them in the preface to book two of the Controversiae (pr. 4). Older brother Annaeus Novatus (later L. Iunius Gallio Annaeanus) was senator, suffect consul, and proconsul of Achaia and younger brother Annaeus Mela was an imperial procurator as well as father of the poet Lucan. 251 See discussion below. Seneca’s description of Polybius’s brother’s literary accomplishment already adumbrates a certain degree of familial resemblance (Cons. Poly. 2.6): Longissimum illi ingeni aeuum fama promisit; id egit ipse ut meliore sui parte duraret et compositis eloquentiae praeclaris operibus a mortalitate se uindicaret. Quam diu fuerit ullus litteris honor, quam diu steterit aut latinae linguae potentia aut graecae gratia, uigebit cum maximis uiris quorum se ingeniis uel contulit uel, si hoc uerecundia eius recusat, adplicuit. He describes Polybius’s brothers imitation of him elsewhere (Cons. Poly. 3.2): ad exemplum se modestiae tuae formauerat cogitabatque quantum tu et ornamentum tuorum esses et onus. 252 Later Seneca explains, Si uolebas tibi omnia licere, ne conuertisses in te ora omnium (Cons. Poly. 6.3). 170 secrets and that fortune has placed him in the light. He claims all know how he carried himself with respect to his wound (Cons. Poly. 6.2). The linguistic parallelism between Seneca’s command to Polybius to assume an expression different from his spirit (indue dissimilem animo tuo uultum) and his descriptions of the brothers’ imitation of Polybius’s spirit based on his expression (animumque ex uultu tuo sument) underscores the contrast between Polybius’s inner feelings and outer appearance and the necessity of maintaining his role (Cons. Poly. 5.5). 253 His emphasis on the difficulty of maintaining one’s persona in the face of the penetrating gaze of the public, which reveals all his secrets, can arguably be read as a coded reflection on Seneca’s supposed crime of adultery, which he might not have been able to keep secret. 254 Seneca is perhaps speaking in coded terms about the difficulty of maintaining his own persona in light of the scandal and his exile through presenting it in the guise of Polybius’s grief. In making the task seem so difficult, he might be attempting to mitigate a blow to his own renown. Seneca is perhaps priming the reader to understand his composition of De Consolatione ad Polybium as a performance at odds with his own animus similar to the one towards which he encourages Polybius. If read in this way, Seneca can be understood as saving himself from the charge of outright sycophancy since he implies that his performance is disingenuous. Seneca models the eloquence that he commands Polybius to use in his literary output. He explains that Polybius’s eloquence can make things, which are small, seem great (quae parua sunt… pro magnis) and vice versa (rursus magna attenuare et ad minima deducere, Cons. Poly. 18.4); in consolation, of course, the latter ability is more useful. Seneca’s description of Polybius’s eloquence applies equally well to Seneca’s, particularly in the opening of the extant 253 Seneca elsewhere notes that Polybius’s deceased brother had moulded himself after him (Cons. Poly. 3.2): Ad exemplum se modestiae tuae formauerat. 254 This is not to assume that it is an admission of guilt. As Fantham 2007: 190 points out, it was perhaps necessary for Seneca to admit guilt in order to secure imperial clementia. 171 text. Seneca explains that, compared to the life of cities and nature, human life takes practically no time at all (Cons. Poly. 1.1-2). How arrogant, then, for a single individual to wish to be exempt from nature’s law? (Cons. Poly. 1.3). He writes (Cons. Poly. 1.4), Maximum ergo solacium est cogitare id sibi accidisse quod omnes ante se passi sunt omnesque passuri; et ideo mihi uidetur rerum natura quod grauissimum fecerat commune fecisse, ut crudelitatem fati consolaretur aequalitas. 255 Therefore, the greatest consolation is to consider the fact that what has happened to him, all people before him have suffered and all people will suffer; for that reason, the nature of things seems to me to have made common what it had made most painful, so that uniformity might be a consolation for the cruelty of fate. Seneca attempts to make something that seems significant to Polybius, namely the death of his brother, seem insignificant by comparison. Seneca’s meditation on aequalitas suggests that he, like Polybius, has the ability to make something great seem small. Their consolatory eloquence, which amplifies the small and diminishes the large, might have the potential to achieve the same consolation as nature, namely uniformity. One might compare Seneca and Polybius’s abilities to console with Claudius’s. 256 Seneca later in the text assumes the voice of Claudius to act as consolator, though he also refers to Claudius as himself a solacium (Cons. Poly. 14.1): Therefore, this princeps, who is the universal consolation of all people (publicum omnium hominum solacium est), if I am not entirely deceived, has already restored your spirit (recreavit animum tuum) and has applied even greater remedies to so great a wound. Like Polybius, the emperor is both consoler and consolation. The consolation of the princeps 255 Cf. Cons. Poly. 12.2: Est autem hoc ipsum solacii loco, inter multos dolorem suum diuidere; qui quia dispensatur inter plures, exigua debet apud te parte subsidere. 256 Seneca describes the spreading of emperor’s pity over the entire world as a source of consolation for himself (magnum miseriarum mearum solacium est uidere misericordiam eius totum orbem peruagantem, Cons. Marc. 13.3). In 12.1, he refers to Claudius’s rule over the earth as enough consolation for Polybius (in hac tibi satis… solaci est). The rule of fortune is as much a consolation for Polybius as the rule of Claudius. 172 rivals that of nature 257 ; Seneca earlier claimed that nature made common (commune fecisse) what it had made most painful (grauissimum) so that equality might be a consolation (consolaretur aequalitas, Cons. Marc. 1.4) while he describes the princeps as offering a publicum solacium above. Seneca seems to imply that all humankind is uniform with regard to the power of both nature and Claudius. Seneca himself could also be considered to be offering a publicum solacium through the text itself. Claudius’s restoration of Polybius’s spirit (recreauit animum tuum) anticipates Seneca’s efforts in Ad Polybium. Given the wide reach of Claudius ameliorative powers, he is in as good a position to address Seneca’s sorrow as Polybius’s. While Seneca addresses his consolation (solacium) to Polybius, Claudius is the solacium to all alike including Polybius and Seneca. Seneca exhorts Polybius to base his literary endeavors on Claudius’s. In 8.2, after praising Polybius for his literary achievements, Seneca enjoins Polybius to write down the deeds of Caesar: tunc Caesaris tui opera, ut per omnia saecula domestico narrentur praeconio, quantum potes compone; nam ipse tibi optime formandi condendique res gestas et materiam dabit et exemplum. During that time, compile the deeds of your Caesar, as best you can, so that for all ages they may be related in a domestic report; for he himself will provide you with both the subject matter and an example for the best fashioning and construction of a res gestae. Seneca mixes deeds and writing together: he claims that Claudius will form the subject of the history, though Claudius’s historical writing will serve as an exemplum for Polybius. Seneca’s allusion to the res gestae connects Polybius’s fashioning of Claudius’s deeds with Claudius’s own account. Opera undoubtedly means “deeds,” though its literary connotations might suggest that Polybius rewrite or imitate the emperor’s writings. The claim looks forward to Seneca’s 257 Gloyn 2014: 451-80 makes a good case that Seneca describes Claudius in ways that evoke the Stoic god, especially as described in Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus. 173 appropriation of Claudius’s voice, which is an imitation that takes the emperor as an exemplum and, given that the speech covers Claudius’s loss of his brother, takes him as his subject, his materia as well. Though he enjoins Polybius to imitate Claudius, Seneca can be read as beckoning Polybius to imitate Seneca-qua-Claudius. In light of the fact that Seneca advises Polybius to imitate Caesar’s writings, it is striking that Seneca himself imitates Claudius in one of the longest ethopoeiae of his prose works, thereby implicitly providing an exemplum for Polybius’s imitation either in his role as recorder of imperial opera or in his role as consolator. In introducing the speech, Seneca notes that Claudius has already provided Polybius with all the examples through which Polybius might impel himself towards composure of mind (omnia exempla quibus ad animi aequitatem compellereris). Seneca sets up his speech as an imitation of what he claims Claudius has already told Polybius: he notes that Claudius revealed the precepts of all sages with his customary eloquence (omnium praecepta sapientium adsueta sibi facundia explicuit). Such a description might apply just as well to Seneca. In Ad Polybium, Seneca seems to follow the customary pattern of offering praecepta first, followed by exempla. 258 He also casts Claudius in the role of a physician applying remedies to his wound (magno uulneri maiora adhibuit remedia, Cons. Poly. 14.1) in ways that might remind the reader of Seneca’s own doctorly posturing. 259 In describing the emperor’s unique consolatory abilities, Seneca seems to distinguish the emperor’s voice from others. After praising his memory, which he used to provide Polybius with exempla, and the eloquence with which he deployed praecepta, he claims, “Therefore no one could have better grasped these parts of consolation” (Nullus itaque melius has adloquendi 258 Cf. Cons. Marc. 2.1. 259 On the trope of philosopher as physician, see Nussbaum 1994. 174 partes occupauerit). 260 Seneca apparently yields to Claudius, whom none could rival in the task of consolation. He claims Claudius’s words will have a weight of different from another’s, as if sent from an oracle (aliud habebunt… pondus uerba uelut ab oraculo missa). Seneca praises Claudius as chief consoler and his description amplifies Claudius’s divine authority (diuina… auctoritas, Cons. Poly. 14.2). Through highlighting Claudius’s exceptional language, Seneca might be read as apologizing for his inability to imitate Claudius’s voice perfectly. Again, Seneca suggests that his text might not live up to expectations. Although he goes on to beckon Polybius to imagine Claudius speaking to him (tibi puta dicere, Cons. Poly. 14.3), his preceding statements can be read as calling into question the difference between Seneca and Claudius’s voices within the text. Particularly in light of the deterioration of his language in exile, Seneca can hardly be expected to rival the consolatory mastery of Claudius as he describes it in the text. He begins the speech with a consolatory topos, which Seneca had already deployed in a similar fashion (Cons. Poly. 14.2): “Fortune has not singled you out for herself (non te solum fortuna desumpsit sibi), whom she afflicted with such a grievous injustice; no home in the whole world (toto orbe terrarum) is or has ever been without some lamentation.” Claudius provides a variant on the theme of commune fatum, the greatest consolation, which Seneca expressed in 1.4. No one, not even emperors, is exempt from death. 261 In a certain sense, misfortune makes all people the same, leveling out all kinds of other differences. Seneca casts Claudius in a role similar to his own, but also indirectly insinuates that Claudius’s speech is really his own. Both exile and emperor offer similar sentiments, which highlight humanity’s 260 Cf. Cons. Marc. 2.1. 261 Claudius makes the point later when explaining why he will now use only exempla from his household (Cons. Poly. 15.2): Sed contentus nostrae domus exemplis ero; nemo enim tam expers erit sensus ac sanitatis ut fortunam ulli queratur luctum intulisse quam sciet etiam Caesarum lacrimas concupisse. 175 shared nature, to the same addressee. In doing so, at the level of the rhetorical design of the text, Seneca effaces distinctions between individuals, as if to evoke nature’s aequalitas, the consolation for humankind. However, Claudius focuses exclusively on the imperial household. Claudius claims he will pass by common exempla (“Transibo exempla uulgaria”) and rather lead Polybius to the fasti and public annales (Cons. Poly. 14.2). Though Claudius makes note of texts, he presents his speech as if he were walking through an atrium containing the funeral masks of Roman heroes. 262 In a certain sense, the speech can be read as a sort of ekphrasis or, perhaps better, a kind of explication of the history behind the imagines. 263 Claudius goes on to give a list of members of prominent families who calmly and courageously accepted the deaths of their brothers. Throughout he suggests a comparison between military and political conquest and the moderation of grief. He first recounts Scipio Africanus who lost his brother having saved him previously from being summoned for court in violation of the law. Seneca also notes that Africanus interfered with the tribune of the plebs on the same day he snatched his brother; he highlights his political rapaciousness even as he commends his temperance in mourning (Cons. Poly. 14.4). He recounts Scipio Aemilianus who bravely endured the death of his brothers immediately before and after his father’s triumph, again inviting comparison between rapaciousness and conquest on the one hand and on the other the courageous acceptance of death (Cons. Poly. 14.5). He alludes to the Luculli, whose concord he notes was only disrupted by death before going on to recount the deaths of the Pompeys (Cons. Poly. 15.1). The account of the Luculli and the Pompeys connect the loss of brothers to the outbreak of civil strife. All in all, the point of all these anecdotes seems the same: in spite of their great power and reach, each of 262 Cons. Poly. 14.3: ‘Vides omnes has imagines quae inpleuere Caesarum atrium?’ 263 He notes each imago is marked (insignis) by misfortune. 176 these families nonetheless suffered loss and endured it well. Claudius then transitions to describing the losses that afflicted the Julio-Claudian household. He notes that Augustus lost his nephew, who was to be his successor, as well as sons- in-law, children, and grandchildren. However, Claudius notes that nevertheless, Augustus was a victor over foreign nations as much as sources of grief (uictorque diuus Augustus non gentium tantummodo externarum sed etiam dolorum fuit, Cons. Poly. 15.3). He notes that before Caligula set out for war, he lost his brother, suffering a greater wound than he had suffered in war (Cons. Poly. 15.4). He then describes Tiberius’s loss of his younger brother Drusus when Claudius’s father was at war in Germany. Tiberius not only set a limit to his own mourning, but also the mourning of his army as well, suggesting an equation of military discipline with emotional restraint. Claudius notes that he would not have been able to suppress the tears of others unless he had first stopped his own (Non potuisset ille lacrimas alienas compescere, nisi prius pressisset suas, Cons. Poly. 15.5), echoing Seneca’s predicament in consoling Polybius and echoing Polybius’s predicament in consoling others. Claudius goes on to describe Mark Antony’s loss of his brother during the time in which he had set in order the republic (rem publicam constitueret) and was a member of the triumvirate (Cons. Poly. 16.1). Though he saw no one higher than himself, he nonetheless lost his brother. Claudius notes that during the time when he was the arbiter of life and death of citizens, nonetheless Antony’s brother was led to execution. Claudius notes that he bore his loss with a greatness of spirit and made an offering to his brother with the blood of twenty legions, again equating martial valor with the marshaling of grief (Cons. Poly. 16.2). Finally, Claudius notes that he too has suffered the loss of siblings twice, though he only makes note of Germanicus. He notes that he governed his emotion in order to leave nothing undone, which he owed his brother 177 and to do nothing for which a princeps might be censured (Cons. Poly. 16.3); in other words he maintained his role. The implication is simple: Polybius ought to bear his grief as virtuously as these exemplars. Upon the conclusion of the speech, Seneca beckons Polybius to imagine that Claudius, here termed “the father of all” (parentem publicum), has recalled these exempla, showing that “nothing is sacrosanct to and untouched by Fortune” (nihil sacrum intactumque sit fortunae, Cons. Poly. 16.4). He notes that though we may make a reproach against fortune not only in our voice, but also in the voice of the people (non nostro tantum ore sed etiam publico), she will not change (Cons. Poly. 16.5). He points out that Fortune drives herself against all prayers and complaints (querimonias), recalling the earlier lamentations (conqueramur) against Fortune that Seneca gives, which merge his voice and Polybius’s (Cons. Poly. 2.2, 3.3-4). As all three speeches show, fortune holds sway over us all. 264 Later, however, Seneca refers back to Claudius’s speech as if he gave it in his own voice. He explains that Polybius ought to contemplate all “those whom I recalled a little while ago” (quos paulo ante rettuli, Cons. Poly. 17.1). Though Seneca had beckoned Polybius to imagine (puta, Cons. Poly. 14.2, 16.4) Claudius giving him the speech, here he casts aside the fictive distinction between his own voice and Claudius’s voice. He goes on to enjoin Polybius to endure with a calm mind (aequo animo) Fortune stretching out her hands to him (ad te quoque porrigentem manus). The phrase porrigentem manus can be read as an expression of Fortune’s physical dominance over Polybius and indeed all people and res. If read in such a way, the phrase might evoke master/slave relations, thereby highlighting the subjugation of the individual to Fortune as master. Though aequo is best read as calm, the meaning of the word is rooted in its 264 Cf. S.V.F. 2.975. 178 physical connotations (“level,” “even,” etc.). The point seems to be not just that Polybius endure the slings and arrows of fortune calmly, but that he harmonize his mind with nature, which offers consolation through uniformity (aequalitas). 265 Seneca reproduces this leveling effect within the text through effacing the distinction between Claudius’s imagined speech and Seneca’s text even as he provides an exemplum for Polybius’s future compositions. It is as if the rhetorical design of his text shows the very evenness and equilibrium one ought to possess as a result of one’s awareness and appreciation of the commune fatum. From this perspective, it does not matter who the speaker is given Fortune’s equal grasp upon all. 266 Seneca then distinguishes philosophical progress from political advancement precisely through the democratization and recasting of Claudius’s power in philosophical terms. He notes (Cons. Poly. 17.2), Although there are great differences (magna discrimina) of status (dignitatum) and nobility (nobilitatum) in other affairs, virtue has been set within the reach of all (virtus in medio posita est); she scorns no one, if only he judges himself worthy of her (dignum se illa iudicat). Seneca simultaneously defines philosophical achievement through the paradigm of imperial power even as he reframes and delimits actual imperial power, seemingly playing upon the Stoic paradox that only the wise man is king. Virtue is defined by reference to political power even as it reframes its significance. Insofar as Claudius, Seneca, or Polybius’s individual reason aligns with the universal reason that is the Stoic god, their individual differences fade away. 265 The leveling effect of fortune is described slightly differently below. Referring to those who best endured fortune, he writes, tamen in hoc uno se ceteris exaequari hominibus non iniuriam sed ius mortalitatis iudicauerunt (Cons. Poly. 17.2). 266 The point is reflected in Seneca’s description of Fortune’s physical movements (Cons. Poly. 17.5): ibit violentior per omnia. Presumably, at a metaphysical level, she courses through even Seneca and Claudius, a fact perhaps suggested through the collapse of Claudius’s speech into Seneca’s text. 179 Seneca further erases the distinction between his and Claudius’s voices, by adding an additional, negative exemplum to Claudius’s list. Seneca again takes responsibility for Claudius’s speech, writing “I enumerated the Caesars from whom fortune had snatched brothers and sisters” (circumierim Caesares quibus fortuna fratres sororesque eripuit, Cons. Poly. 17.3). He goes on to describe Caligula’s mourning for his sister, in essence appending a negative exemplum to Claudius’s list. In response to his sister’s death, Caligula isolated himself, did not attend her funeral, did not make funeral offerings, but rather played with dice, a gaming board, and other common occupations to alleviate his sorrows over her funeral. Seneca decries the fact that gambling was his consolation (solacium, Cons. Poly. 17.4). Caligula’s preoccupation with games of chance associates his behavior with the unpredictable vacillations of fortune. Seneca specifically singles out his fickleness (inconstantia), the opposite of Stoic constantia. He goes on to describe how Caligula sometimes cut his hair in expression of mourning, other times let it grow long, sometimes wanted his sister to be mourned, punishing those who failed to do so, other times wanted to see her worshiped (and therefore remain unmourned). 267 All in all, he emphasizes his lack of surety (numquam satis certus). The fact that Caligula serves as both a positive and negative exemplum only underscores his volatility. 268 He notes that Caligula was wandering (errabundus) along the shores of Sicily and Italy, as if his very body were betraying his own mistakenness, playing upon full range of meanings inherent in erro. 269 Finally, Seneca notes that he was enduring the blows of fortune with the same immoderateness by which, exalted by the favor of chance (secundarum elatus euentu), he was swelling beyond human bounds (super humanum intumescebat modum, Cons. Poly. 17.5). In contrast with the divine Claudius, 267 Cf. Basore 1932: 408nb. 268 Cf. Cons. Poly. 15.4. 269 OLD 1-6. On metaphors of wandering, see Short 2013. 180 whose speech reflects the Stoic endurance of hardship and the commune fatum, the “divinity” of Caligula rests upon his intemperance and excess. His transcendence of human boundaries is the opposite of the sage’s consistency and nature’s aequalitas, an aberration in the midst of harmonious voices and personae. 4.D. Brutus’s Admiration: The Speech of Marcellus in Ad Helviam In an anecdote, Seneca introduces Marcellus, the exiled opponent of Caesar, as an exemplar, who, on account of his studia, made the world his home even away from his home in Rome and made Brutus feel like an exile when he returned to Rome after visiting. Assuming his voice, Seneca has Marcellus address himself describing the harried movements of Caesar in ways that pointedly contrast with Seneca’s preceding description of the orderly movements of the stars. He concludes the speech by exhorting himself, “live contentedly with Brutus as your admirer!” (uiue Bruto miratore contentus, Cons. Helv. 9.8). Although he addresses this exhortation towards himself, based on their shared nature, Seneca implies that his words might address Marcellus himself, Brutus, Seneca, Helvia, and Seneca’s broader readership. Like the triad of figures in Ad Polybium and the dyad of Seneca and Cordus in Ad Marciam, Seneca constructs himself, Helvia, and Marcellus as parallel figures based on their shared nature, while at the same time opening up the possibility that Marcellus’s exhortation towards himself might be directed equally towards other audiences, much as he had implied in the speech of Areus in Ad Marciam. Throughout Ad Helviam, Seneca stresses the continuity between his individual nature and nature as whole. He claims that he can never be exiled because he recognizes his common identity with nature based on the pervasion of soul throughout the universe. He implies that he both realizes and reaffirms this common identity through his scientific and philosophical 181 investigations, especially of the heavens, which he models for Helvia and towards which he encourages her. Seneca casts Marcellus, an opponent of Caesar and defender of the republic, as a parallel-figure and highlights their shared harmony with nature achieved through studia; neither he nor Seneca is truly exiled since they have both made nature their home. Seneca suggests in the conclusion that the words Marcellus speaks to himself might apply not only to him, but also Helvia, Seneca, Brutus, and his broader readership, based on the continuity between individual nature and nature as a whole. One of Seneca’s primary means of consoling his mother for his absence is to remind her that he is at home in nature itself. In response to the objection “to lose one’s fatherland is intolerable” (‘Carere patria intolerabile est’, Cons. Helv. 6.2) he notes that far from being intolerable, it is the way not only of people but of nature as a whole. Beginning with a discussion of the inadequacy of Roman roofs to cover Rome’s great population, Seneca moves then to a consideration of immigration to Rome, to immigration to other cities, to migratory patterns over the entire world, and finally to the movements of the heavens (Cons. Helv. 6.2-8). Seneca naturalizes human movement on earth through underscoring its continuity with the stars, which often appear as symbols of providential order in Senecan philosophy. In describing the origin of the mens in celestial fire, Seneca writes (Cons. Helv. 6.7), non est ex terreno et gravi concreta (mens) corpore, ex illo caelesti spiritu descendit; caelestium autem natura semper in motu est, fugit et uelocissimo cursu agitur. Collected not from an earthly, heavy body, it (the mind) has flows down from that celestial breath; however, the nature of the heavenly bodies is to be always in motion, it flies past and is driven at the swiftest speed. 182 Seneca identifies the mens with the divine pneuma, here translated as spiritus. 270 Human movement is of a piece with the movement of the heavens, insofar as each human possesses a particle of the pneuma. 271 Seneca goes on to describe the heavens (Cons. Helv. 6.7-8): he describes the sun gliding continuously (labitur adsidue), moving from place to place (locum ex loco mutat), turning (uertatur), moving back (refertur) in the opposite direction of the heavens, and running (discurrit) through all parts of the constellations. He notes that, “all things always turn and are in movement” (omnia uoluuntur semper et in transitu sunt). They are caused to move from one place to another (aliunde alio deferuntur), moving through their orbits repeatedly. Seneca’s varied diction (labitur… uertatur… refertur… discurrit… uoluuntur… deferuntur… explicuerint… ibunt…uvenerant) describing the movement of heavenly bodies reflects the ever-changing, ever-moving universe. 272 The variegated language lends the passage a sense of flux and constant change as if to mirror the constantly moving celestial bodies changing their positions. Seneca makes his point explicit in the finale of the passage (Cons. Helv. 6.8), i nunc et humanum animum, ex isdem quibus diuina constant seminibus compositum, moleste ferre transitum ac migrationem puta, cum dei natura adsidua et citatissima commutatione uel delectet se uel conseruet. Come now, consider the fact that the human mind, composed from the same seeds of which divinity consists, endures with difficulty a journey and change of abode, since the nature of god both delights and preserves itself through continual and very swift physical change. Seneca again stresses the essential continuity between the human and the divine: god exists within our own souls. Having directed Helvia’s vision towards the heavens (caelestibus), he 270 Cf. Williams 2006: 152. 271 On the relationship between mens and pneuma more generally in Senecan prose, see Setaioli 2007: 338. 272 On the celestial bodies as symbols of order, see Vogt 2008: 135. 183 beckons her to apply this knowledge to the world below, pointing out that she will see that all nations and peoples have changed their seat (uidebis gentes populosque uniuersos mutasse sedem, Cons. Helv. 7.1). Seneca then describes the movements of different peoples over the globe (Cons. Helv. 7.1-10). He implies that one feels at home insofar as he or she recognizes the underlying continuity between one’s individual nature and nature as a whole through the fiery efflux of spiritus from the stars. Seneca notes that a pure (sincerus) soul, one mindful of its nature (naturae suae memor), destined to dart up to heaven (ad summa emicaturus) can love nothing earthly. Again it recognizes its continuity with the heavens (Cons. Helv. 11.7): Ideoque nec exulare umquam potest, liber et deis cognatus et omni mundo omnique aeuo par; nam cogitatio eius circa omne caelum it, in omne praeteritum futurumque tempus inmittitur… animus quidem ipse sacer et aeternus est et cui non possit inici manus. Therefore it (the soul) can never be exiled, it is free and kindred with the gods and uniform throughout the entire universe and in every age. For its thought moves around the entire sky and is sent into every time past and to come… Indeed the soul is sacred and eternal and no hands can be laid upon it. Insofar as one’s mind is continuous with the pneuma, it is part of something universal and eternal. 273 Its continuity with the whole renders it invulnerable. 274 It is impossible for the soul to be exiled from nature or separated from pneuma, since it has existed within all ages in every place. 275 Recognition of the continuity of mens and spiritus serves as a form of consolation for 273 Seneca elsewhere describes the omnipresence of pneuma as “The divine breath diffused throughout all things, greatest and smallest alike, in constant tension” (diuinus spiritus per omnia maxima ac minima aequali intentione diffusus, Cons. Helv. 8.3). Note aequali intentione cannot mean “equal tension” because the pneuma was not diffused throughout all things equally: it is concentrated in the souls of humankind, especially the wise, and the stars themselves. Seneca should be read as emphasizing not differences of pneumatic tension, but its constant tension. What matters more than the differences within it is its presence everywhere. 274 Cf. Cons. Helv. 13.2 Cum semel animum uirtus indurauit, undique inuulnerabilem praestat. Presumably through uirtus, i.e. harmony with the pneuma, one can achieve an unshakeable state of moral equilibrium so as to be unbuffeted by fortune. 275 Cf. Cons. Helv. 8.1: Aduersus ipsam commutationem locorum, detractis ceteris incommodis quae exilio adhaerent, satis hoc remedii putat Varro, doctissimus Romanorum, quod quocumque 184 Helvia and perhaps Seneca as well. How could he feel alienated in exile when his soul remains connected to its original home in the heavens? 276 While he may be estranged from his homeland, he is not estranged from his true origin, spiritus. As a citizen of the cosmos, Seneca remains at home, a fact in which Helvia (and perhaps Seneca himself or readers in a state of exile) can find consolation. Seneca urges Helvia to find consolation in studia in ways that he models; he characterizes studia as a haven from misfortune as well as a form of ascent to the heavens, where the mind mingles with celestial fire. He urges Helvia to study philosophy, noting that it is a refuge for all who flee fortune. He claims that those studies will heal her wound and uproot her sadness (illa sanabunt uulnus tuum, illa omnem tristitiam tibi euellent, Cons. Helv. 17.3). Seneca describes his disappointment with his father in cutting her studies short, given that she now would not have needed to prepare her defense, but rather merely put it forward. 277 Seneca encourages her to return to these studies, for which she has already laid the foundation. He notes that these will make her safe (tutam), console her (consolabuntur), and delight her (delectabunt) as well as protect her from grief (dolor), anxiety (sollicitudo), and the unnecessary suffering of an empty torment (adflictationis inritae superuacua uexatio). He notes that philosophical studies are the surest safeguards (certissima praesidia) and that these are the only things that can snatch her away from fortune (quae sola te fortunae eripere possint, Cons. Helv. 17.5). Seneca recommends that she also draw comfort from her other sons, grandson, granddaughter, and her sister, but it is uenimus eadem rerum natura utendum est. Perhaps the citation itself could be considered a reflection of Seneca and Varro’s participation in same nature through the exercise of the their respective ingenia. 276 As Seneca notes elsewhere nullum inueniri exilium intra mundum 〈potest; nihil enim quod intra mundum〉 est, alienum homini est (Cons. Helv. 8.5). 277 non parandum tibi nunc esset auxilium contra fortunam sed proferendum, Cons. Helv. 17.4. 185 important to note that these sources of comfort are only temporary measures that will see her through until she reaches the haven of studia (Cons. Helv. 18.1). Seneca offers himself up as a model for the serenity that liberalia studia offer. Having beckoned her to consider the comfort of loved ones, calling especial attention to Helvia’s sister who endured well the loss of her husband, Seneca beckons Helvia to consider his condition in exile (qualem me cogites) as a source of consolation. He is happy and enthusiastic as he was in the best of times (laetum et alacrem uelut optimis rebus). He corrects himself, noting that in fact these are the best of times (Sunt enim optimae), since Seneca’s mind is free from every preoccupation and available for its own activities. He describes the mind rising up, greedy for truth, to consider its own and universal nature (modo ad considerandam suam uniuersique naturam ueri auidus insurgit, Cons. Helv. 20.1). Again, note the stress Seneca lays upon the continuity of individual and universal nature. He goes on to describe apparently the work he undertakes in the Natural Questions, namely to understand different lands, the tides of the sea, the expanse between heaven and earth disturbed by thunder, lightning, winds, rain, snow, and hail. This elevation of Seneca’s soul towards heaven suggests a kind of absorption into celestial spiritus, which connects all things, including Seneca and Helvia, even as it clings to its source in heaven. Through the philosophical enquiry that Seneca models, he implies that she might find consolation in considering the continuity between her own and universal nature. Seneca underscores the omnipresence of nature with which his mind unites through his studies (Cons. Helv. 20.2): Then, having traversed through the lower parts, it breaks through to the highest peaks (ad summa perrumpit) and delights in the most beautiful spectacle of divine things (pulcherrimo divinorum spectaculo), mindful of its own eternity (aeternitatis suae memor) in everything that has been and will be, it extends throughout all ages (omnibus saeculis). 186 The phrase aeternitatis suae memor might recall Seneca’s earlier description of the liberated animus as naturae suae memor (Cons. Helv. 11.6). Seneca himself models the liberated mindset of the sage, whose soul is at one with nature. Seneca suggests that his own scientific study unifies his individual mens with the heavens to the degree that it is at one with all things at all times and therefore never exiled. Elsewhere in the text, he makes similar claims more specifically regarding the relationship between his naturalist investigations and his consolation for exile. Seneca explains that as long as his eyes are not led away from that spectacle (ab illo spectaculo) for which they are insatiable, are allowed to gaze upon the moon, to be fixed upon the other planets, to investigate their risings, fallings, and periods, to investigate the speed of their movements, and witness the countless stars of the sky, it does not matter upon what soil he treads. Just witnessing nature creates harmony with nature, perhaps through pneuma emitted from the eyes. After describing the various paths of heavenly bodies through the sky, he asks (Cons. Helv. 8.6), … as long as I am with these things and, as far as is right for a man (qua homini fas est), mingled with the heavenly bodies (caelistibus… immiscear), as long as I have a mind always stretching on high to the sight of things with which I am kin (cognatarum rerum conspectum tendentem in sublimi), what does it matter where I tread? Again, Seneca provides a positive model for Helvia with respect to his liberalia studia. Through his investigations, he recognizes and reaffirms an underlying affinity between his own and divine nature. As Seneca would have it, investigating the heavens elevates the soul to a lofty (sublimi) position. From this position, as if turning back to the world below, it scarcely matters upon what ground Seneca treads. Since Seneca recognizes the common identity between his soul and nature as a whole, he knows and affirms that he is at home in all times and places. 278 Seneca stresses the 278 Cf. Ep. 28.1. 187 continuity between human nature and nature in his encouragements to Helvia to engage in naturalistic and philosophical studia. Helvia, like Seneca, might find consolation in the recognition of the continuity of their individual natures and nature as a whole, which results from philosophical study. The same might be said of Marcellus, the opponent of Caesar who retired to Mytilene after Pharsalus. It is no coincidence that Seneca begins his anecdote describing Marcellus living in exile, by noting that he was living most happily, as happy as the nature of man allows (quantum modo natura hominis pateretur, beatissime uiuentem) and never more eager for liberal studies (neque umquam cupidiorem bonarum artium). It would seem that anyone, insofar as he or she engages in liberal studies, becomes free from misfortune, no matter their individual conditions, making Seneca’s encouragements to Helvia applicable to all. In fact, Seneca seems to indicate that he is paraphrasing the anecdote drawn from Brutus who had written a book on virtue (Brutus in eo libro quem de uirtute composuit, Cons. Helv. 9.4). The anecdote then is a product of Marcellus, Brutus, and Seneca’s overlapping studia, a fact which perhaps underscores their shared nature and arguably provides a model for Helvia’s relationship to Seneca’s text. 279 Seneca invites comparison between his own expression of virtue in the face of imperial power and Brutus and Marcellus’s resistance to Caesar. 280 He describes the fact that Brutus felt like an exile not when visiting Marcellus, but when he left him behind to go back to the senate (Cons. Helv. 9.5). Later he notes that the senators themselves felt as if they were exiled without Marcellus (Cons. Helv. 9.6). It is as if Marcellus’s virtue changes the center of the world from Rome to nature itself, where he finds his home. 279 In fact, Seneca adds that Cato admired him as well (Cons. Helv. 9.5): Quantus uir fuit qui in admirationem sui adduxit hominem etiam Catoni suo mirandum! 280 Cf. Williams 2006: 159n44: “Seneca implicitly challenges Claudius by emulating Marcellus, that embarrassment to Caesar (Cf. 9.6 Caesar erubuit) in serene exile.” 188 Seneca again emphasizes his underlying connection with Marcellus. He sets up his speech writing (Cons. Helv. 9.7): Do you doubt that a man as great (tantus vir) as Marcellus encouraged himself (se… adhortatus sit) thusly often to endure exile with a calm mind (ad tolerandum aequo animo exilium)? Marcellus’s speech is a form of self-exhortation (adhortatus) similar to the mode in which Seneca so often writes. Marcellus’s speech can be read as explicitly directed towards Marcellus himself, though implicitly towards an audience that includes Seneca, Helvia, and Seneca’s readership. One might assume too that this is the kind of speech Seneca would say to himself in similar circumstances. Given the context, Seneca seems to be implying that Marcellus’s words are suitable for multiple addressees, a fact already foreshadowed by the fact that he appropriates the anecdote from a different literary context, namely Brutus’s book about virtue. Though he does admit token differences between Marcellus and himself, Seneca seems overall far more concerned with highlighting commonalities between speaker, writers, and audiences. Marcellus’s speech opens with one of the dominant tropes of De Consolatione Ad Helviam (9.7): ‘quod patria cares, non est miserum: ita te disciplinis inbuisti ut scires omnem locum sapienti uiro patriam esse.” “To be deprived of one’s fatherland is not distressing: so steep yourself in studies so that you may know that every place is the homeland of the wise man.” There is a high degree of continuity at the level of the text between Marcellus’s voice and Seneca’s authorial voice. Seneca had already in his own voice responded to the objection that, “to lose one’s fatherland is intolerable” (Carere patria intolerabile est, Cons. Helv. 6.2). Both figures dismiss the suffering of exile, both extol the virtues of steeping one’s mind in studies, and both hold the sage up as an ideal of one who cannot be exiled. Seneca calls into question the 189 significance of time, location, and identity in having his voice echoed in Marcellus’s, while he was in exile in Mytilene decades earlier. Marcellus, like Seneca, claims that education holds out the possibility of making the cosmos one’s home anticipating Seneca’s exhortations to Helvia. Seneca notes that Caesar’s goal was to expand the empire (Propagandi sine dubio imperii causa, Helv. 9.7); Seneca and Marcellus, however, find themselves at home regardless of whether they are within the empire’s borders. At least in the opening of the speech, it is as if both characters share one mind, perhaps evoking the continuity between their minds via spiritus. Seneca might be implying that his, Marcellus, and Brutus’s minds are in accord, insofar as their words (logoi) overlap or harmonize. In the body of the speech, Marcellus takes up a discussion of the harried movements of Caesar, which form a contrast with Marcellus’s constantia in exile. Caesar’s movements evoke Seneca’s description of migratory patterns at a smaller scale and form a mirror image (albeit a distorted one) of the constant, though orderly, movements of the celestial bodies described in Helv. 6.2-8. He notes that though Caesar was expanding the empire, nonetheless he was absent from his own country for ten years (per annos decem… patria caruit, Prov. 9.7). 281 He beckons himself to behold (Ecce) Africa dragging him to herself (illum ad se Africa… trahit), which is prone to break out again in war, Spain (trahit) dragging him to herself, which is reinvigorating its broken and fractured forces, and Egypt (trahit) dragging him to herself, which is disloyal. In contrast with the stars, which move on their own accord (Seneca primarily uses intransitive verbs in 6.2-8), different nations drag Caesar to and fro. The repetition of traho might remind one of 281 Seneca speaks against the covetousness of conquest more generally elsewhere in the text (Cons. Helv. 8.4): Quidquid optimum homini est, id extra humanam potentiam iacet, nec dari nec eripi potest. Mundus hic, quo nihil neque maius neque ornatius rerum natura genuit, 〈et〉 animus contemplator admiratorque mundi, pars eius magnificentissima, propria nobis et perpetua et tam diu nobiscum mansura sunt quam diu ipsi manebimus. 190 the Stoic analogy about one’s assent to fate being similar to a dog tied to a cart: the dog can either assent and run behind the cart or be dragged along anyway just as man can either assent to fate or be dragged anyway. The different countries drag Caesar in different directions, presumably against his will, thereby making him inconstant as he seeks to extend the boundaries of Rome, which hardly matter from the perspective of the liberated mind of Seneca or Marcellus. Marcellus then asks, “Who will he face first? Against which party will he position himself?” (cui primum rei occurret? cui parti se opponet? Cons. Helv. 9.8). While Caesar faces an impasse in determining against whom he will direct his forces, Seneca seems to have Marcellus direct his speech towards multiple audiences at once. Seneca notes that Caesar’s victory, not his exile, will drive him throughout all lands (Aget illum per omnes terras uictoria, Cons. Helv. 9.8). Again, different forces move Caesar in different directions. Paradoxically, military victory represents a form of exile not just from one’s home, but presumably from nature itself. In these passages, it is true that Seneca does seem to allow for differences between himself and Marcellus; he does not erase all hallmarks of history and individuality. While Seneca implies that he and Marcellus will intermingle with the stars, symbols of order, terrestrial forces (literally different regions of the earth) determine Caesar’s movements. Marcellus concludes the speech by saying, “Let nations admire (suspiciant) and worship (colant) him; you live contentedly with Brutus as your admirer!” (tu uiue Bruto miratore contentus, Cons. Helv. 9.8). Marcellus’s injunction to live contentedly with Brutus as your admirer resonates with injunctions in other parts of his corpus in which he beckons his addressee to imagine someone he or she admires look upon all aspects of his or her life. 282 Marcellus might be read as directing the command tu uiue Bruto miratore contentus to himself, Seneca, Helvia, 282 E.g. Ep. 25.5. Cf. Ep. 94.8. 191 and Seneca’s readership, though he might be addressing it implicitly to the addressee of Brutus’s admiring work about Marcellus from which Seneca sourced the anecdote. It would seem possible that the dictum tu uiue Bruto miratore contentus is, in Seneca’s eyes, suitable for all people, in all places, in all times. Upon concluding the speech, Seneca comments that Marcellus endured exile well. Specifically he writes, “the change of his location did not change his mind” (nec quicquam in animo eius mutauit loci mutatio, Cons. Helv. 10.1). Seneca perhaps associates his assumption of Marcellus’s voice with a change of location. Seneca in Corsica echoes Marcellus’s words from Mytilene, or vice-versa. In assuming the persona of Marcellus, Seneca reflects little or no change of his animus, just a change in circumstance and place, hardly even trifles in the eyes of the sage. Marcellus’s virtue may be his own, but his virtue entails precisely following a shared nature emblematized in heavenly fire. 283 Seneca is perhaps playing upon the meaning of locus as passage. One passage to another reflects no change of Seneca’s mind, as the opening and conclusion of the speech and its overall tenor suggest. Here it is possible to discern Seneca writing the continuity of Stoic physics into the structure and design of his text as a consolatory strategy. He adumbrates his connection to Marcellus’s mind in the opening of the speech through verbal echoes and underscores continuity of mind through the assimilation of multiple audiences to Marcellus himself. In sum, the continuities within De Consolatione Ad Helviam evoke the continuity between mens and spiritus, which no place entirely separates. From this perspective Stoic physics can be read as informing the relationship between the personae and voices of his text. The physics of Stoicism, to at least a certain degree, seems to condition Seneca’s imitation of Marcellus. 283 Seneca notes (Cons. Helv. 8.2): natura communis et propria uirtus. 192 Conclusion In his consolations to Marcia, Polybius, and Helvia, Seneca constructs the identities of the dominant personae of his texts in remarkably fluid ways that extend even to their voices. Seneca persistently invites his audience to read their way into Marcia’s position to find themselves consoled by his text, even as he casts Cordus as a surrogate for himself and assumes his voice to echo his own words. He calls into question the distinction of his voice from Claudius’s while anticipating Polybius’s literary imitation of Claudius to come. Marcellus’s exhortation concluding his self-addressed speech might apply to all based on the continuity between individual nature and nature as a whole. In the literary design of his texts, Seneca insinuates personae and their misfortunes are often interchangeable, while highlighting nature and death as forces, which wipe away distinctions of identity. Senecan rhetoric, like death and ekpyrosis, has a way of unifying all people. 193 Chapter 5: The Dissolution of History Introduction Demaratus’s speech to Xerxes in De Beneficiis (dated to 56-64 CE, addressed to the wealthy freedman Aebutius Liberalis 284 ), the speech of an unnamed Stoic in Epistle 77, the speech of Aufidius Bassus in Epistle 30, and the speech of the magnus animus attributed to Cato in Epistle 71 all dissolve historical distinctions. 285 By insinuating that his different personae speak with his knowledge of history, address different audiences in the past, present, and future simultaneously, or speak his own words, Seneca evokes the omnipresence of divine reason throughout all moments in history. Insofar as his speakers’ souls are in harmony with ratio, which exists in all times, they speak alike and their words address all alike. Seneca implies that insofar as one speaks in accordance with divine reason, one will utter the same words, no matter the historical circumstance. At the same time, by presenting speeches anachronistically, Seneca reminds the reader that the only moment available for experience is the present. Each speaker across history, in a certain sense, speaks in the same moment, namely the present, which is the same moment that we read Seneca’s text. 5.A. Demaratus’s Prophecy in De Beneficiis Throughout De Beneficiis, Seneca exhorts his addressee to act in accordance with nature, which is the same thing as god, fate, and divine reason interwoven in all its parts (divina ratio 284 On Liberalis, see Griffin 2013: 96-98. 285 Scholars have exhaustively studied Seneca’s beliefs about time, as they can be ascertained through the appraisal of his explicit claims. Viparelli 2000 is the most authoritative and comprehensive treatment. See also Grimal 1968, Moreau 1969, and Gagliardi 1998. Edwards 2014: 323-41 offers a convenient, up-to-date survey of the topic. On Seneca’s attitude towards history and historians, see Armisen-Marchetti 1995: 151-67. 194 toti mundo partibusque eius inserta, Ben. 4.7.1). 286 Seneca refers to the same entity when he writes (Ben. 4.6.6): Insita sunt nobis omnium aetatum, omnium artium semina, magisterque ex occulto deus producit ingenia. Planted within us are the seeds of all ages, the seeds of all arts, and god, as our teacher, draws out our talents from a hidden source. Seneca here speaks of the Stoic logoi spermatikoi. 287 Seneca suggests that the human mind is similar to the mind of god, in that it can range throughout all time and space, presumably on account of shared ratio, which guides the course of fate. Seneca highlights prophecy in particular as evidence of god’s beneficence in De Beneficiis (Ben. 2.29.5), Tot virtutes accepimus, tot artes, animum denique, cui nihil non eodem, quo intendit, momento pervium est, sideribus velociorem, quorum post multa saecula futuros cursus antecedit. We have received so many abilities, so many arts, and indeed a mind, for which nothing is inaccessible the moment it directs itself, which is swifter than the stars, whose future courses it anticipates many centuries into the future. 288 Seneca seems to claim that humans can experience a liberation of the mind that is akin to god’s freedom. 289 The mind can trace the network of causes that structures fate. Presumably the arts that Seneca describes allow humans to divine (divinanda) the wishes of recipients of beneficia. 290 It would seem that the soul can travel the course of fate forwards and backwards through time and throughout the entire universe based on its common identity with the logoi spermatikoi. 286 Ben. 4.5.1-9.1. 287 Cf. Long and Sedley 1987: 277: “The idea is not that god ‘seeds’ the world, and then leaves its maturation to develop independently. He is in his own identity the causal chain of fate… His own life-history is coextensive with that of the world which he creates.” 288 Seneca later describes the mind of the wise man as having power over all things (animum sapientis… potentem omnium Ben. 7.8.1). 289 The connection to designing fire in part justifies the appropriateness of the title “Hercules” for god (Ben. 4.8.1): Herculem, quia vis eius invicta sit quandoque lassata fuerit operibus editis, in ignem recessura. 290 Ben. 2.2.1. 195 Seneca implies that the wise man’s mind conforms to the mind of god, such that he, like god, possesses all things. 291 He writes (7.3.3), when you have surveyed the east and west with your mind (animo), with which distant places, closed off by wastelands, are penetrated (penetrantur), when you behold so many animals, such a great abundance of things, which nature has poured forth most copiously, it is worthy of a great spirit (ingentis spiritus res est) to utter this dictum of god (emittere hanc dei vocem): “All these things are mine (Haec omnia mea sunt)!” Insofar as the mind of the sage is at one with the mind of god, he possesses all things. 292 It is perhaps no coincidence that Seneca uses the term spiritus in this context, evoking the common identity of god and mind. The fact that the sage speaks the dictum of god (dei vocem) suggests the consistency of their logoi. Seneca’s description of the mind, ranging throughout space and time, has bearing on the suasoria he performs in the voice of Demaratus. Seneca gives the speech in the context of a disquisition on the deleterious effects of flattery. He singles out Demaratus for his willingness to give frank, honest advice to Xerxes. Seneca recounts all the advice Xerxes received, which only served to fuel his pride. One advisor told him that the enemy would flee at the rumor of his arrival, another that Greece would be crushed, another that they would more than likely find the cities emptied, another that the world was scarcely enough for him (Ben. 6.31.1-4). These advisors tell Xerxes what flatters his ego and confirms his prejudgments, not what benefits him most. It is almost as if Xerxes’ massive army were a metaphor for his outsized ego. 293 In this respect, they appear as the kind of benefactors Seneca so often decries, namely those who think 291 Ben. 7.5.1-2: interim hoc huic quaestioni sat est me id, quod aliter sapientis est, aliter meum est, posse donare sapienti. Nec mirum est aliquid ei, cuius est totum, posse donari. Cf. Ben. 7.6.3: Sic sapiens animo universa possidet, iure ac dominio sua. Cf. Ben. 7.7.3. 292 Griffin 2013: 324 offers three other, possible explications, though she does not take full account of how Seneca’s discussions of the mind ranging throughout the world might relate to his discussions of ownership. 293 Compare with Seneca’s description of Alexander, Ben. 7.2.5-3.1. 196 more of themselves than the good of their recipients. As Seneca describes it in Ben. 2.14.1-5, we must look to the advantage (utilitatem) of our recipients, not only to their desire (voluntatem). We should keep in mind the eventual outcome of our gifts, not just their immediate effects. 294 In other words, we need to consider what is best for our beneficiaries, not merely what they want. While Xerxes’ other advisors tell him what he wants to hear, Demaratus is the only one who has the courage to tell him what would benefit him the most. Seneca notes that Demaratus told Xerxes that his forces had not strength (vires), but weight (pondus) and that they were too large to be controlled and so would not last long (Ben. 6.31.4). He then gives a speech directly in Demaratus’s voice. Demaratus says that the three hundred Spartans will check the progress of Xerxes’ many thousands and all of Asia will not move them from their positions. He claims that after nature has altered her laws and allowed Xerxes to cross the sea, he will be stopped upon a footpath. 295 He claims that Xerxes will calculate his future losses based upon those experiences at Thermopylae. He describes how the Greek forces will give way, then crush him from both sides. He confirms that his forces are indeed too large for Greece, correcting the thrust of his flatterers’ claims that his forces are too great for the world. Because of the narrow path and Xerxes’ massive forces, he will not be able to provide adequate support to the front ranks. Demaratus concludes his speech by claiming that nothing is so great that it cannot perish (nihil tam magnum est, quod perire non possit, Ben. 6.31.5-10); Demaratus is perhaps alluding to ekpyrosis, the cosmic cataclysm that puts all human-caused cataclysms into proper perspective. 294 As he sums it up, Exorari in perniciem rogantium saeva bonitas est, Ben. 2.14.4. 295 Griffin 2013:3 07 explains nature changing its laws as a way of conveying the fact that Xerxes dug a canal across the isthmus of Mt. Athos (Hdt. 7.22-4). In Ben. 6.21 Seneca argues that the sun and moon stay in motion not because they have to, but because it is in fact their desire. 197 Seneca concludes the speech by noting that all things happened (Acciderunt) as Demaratus had predicted (praedixerat, Ben. 6.31.11). As Griffin 2013: 306-07 notes, there are many details that Demaratus could not have predicted and, in fact, does not predict in Herodotus’s account, for instance the number of Greeks that they would face or that Thermopylae would be the site of the battle. 296 Demaratus speaks with prophetic certainty: he repeatedly uses the future indicative. It is as if Demaratus speaks with Seneca’s knowledge of history. Instead of attempting to give the kind of speech Demaratus might have actually given, Demaratus’s speech almost reads as if he were imitating Seneca and giving the kind of speech that Seneca would have given to Xerxes (or perhaps the kind of speech Seneca would want his readers to imagine he would give Nero in similar circumstances). This has especial significance in light of the context in which Seneca gives the speech: he is offering a disquisition on the deleterious effects of flattery on rulers. Seneca earlier claimed that what one who possesses everything (in the legal sense, like a king) lacks is someone who would tell the truth (qui verum dicat) and disabuse him of falsehoods peddled by so many others (Ben. 6.30.3). At the most superficial level, Demaratus can be read as a straightforward, positive exemplar: he gives the gift of frank, prudent advice to one who is far wealthier and more powerful. Independently of the differences of their fortunes, Demaratus still finds a way to benefit Xerxes by giving him good advice. He, like Seneca, exhorts his addressee not to rely on fortune. Through ratio alone, Demaratus finds a way to give to Xerxes. Yet perhaps more could be said. The fact that Demaratus speaks as if he shared Seneca’s knowledge of history suggests a sage-like awareness of the rational interconnection of causes 296 Cf. Herodotus 7.101-5, 234. In Herodotus’s speeches, Demaratus hardly speaks with such certainty. 198 that structure fate, which is guided by the seminal principles. 297 The immanence of Seneca’s voice within the prophetic voice of Demaratus suggests a concordance between the ratio of Seneca and Demaratus’s minds and the ratio interwoven into and guiding all things. His mind courses forward in time and throughout space. He knows the location, outcome, and particulars of the battle to come, as if he and Seneca share the same mind and he accurately divines both the future and what is most beneficial for his recipient in accordance with Seneca’s ideals of giving. 298 By having him prophesy from the perspective of his auctor, like a god speaking through an oracle, Seneca adumbrates Demaratus’s apprehension of fate. 5.B. The Cycles of Life: The Speech of the Stoic in Ep. 77 Epistle 77 offers a digression on the death of Marcellinus and the advice given by one of his Stoic advisors. 299 This speech is a kind of mise-en-abyme of the letter, which encapsulates its preoccupations both in terms of themes and imagery. Seneca strongly implies that the direct speech of the anonymous Stoic transcends its immediate context, as if the Stoic were addressing Lucilius as well as the letter’s broader readership at the same time as he addressed 297 See Ben. 4.7.1 for the identification of ratio with fatum and the closely preceding passage, 4.6.6, for the description of the seminal principles’ guidance of all ages. Demaratus offers sage- like advice, but is not a sage himself; Seneca notes that he went on to ask for a gift, namely to be allowed to enter Sardis wearing a tiara. Such a request only proves that he was unworthy of a reward (Ben. 6.31.12). Seneca allows for the possibility that a sage may become bad (Ben. 7.19.5-6). 298 As Seneca later exhorts, Quaeris, quid felici praestare possis? Effice, ne felicitati suae credat, ut sciat illam multis et fidis manibus continendam, Ben. 6.33.2. On Xerxes’ trust in fortune, see Sen. N.Q. 5.18.10, Const. Sap. 4.2, Brev. Vit. 17.2. Cf. Elder Sen. Suas. 2.17-18, Val. Max. 3.2.ext. 3, 9.5.ext.2. 299 The speech in this section is certainly a borderline case of an extended monologue given that it is only three sentences long. I have included it on account of its emphatic placement in the letter and the fact that it provides a good illustration of how Seneca condenses multiple moments into the present through his framing of the speech. 199 Marcellinus. 300 The relationship between Marcellinus’s Stoic friend and Lucilius thereby serves as an analogy for our own relationship to Seneca’s address to Lucilius. Seneca’s presentation of the speech seems to collapse different audiences and moments together, as if to erase distinctions of history. 301 At the same time, Seneca’s ventriloquism renders the words of the Stoic a thin fiction through which one might perceive the immanence of Seneca’s own voice, as if Seneca himself were breaking the frame of his address to Lucilius to speak to Marcellinus. Whether one reads Seneca in a thin guise addressing Marcellinus or the unnamed Stoic addressing us, Seneca’s imitation can be read as collapsing distinctions in time in ways that accord with his claim that only the present exists. In order to elucidate the significance of the speech of Marcellinus’s friend it is necessary to consider how Seneca thinks about time specifically in Epistle 77. Seneca pursues the subject of time throughout the letter. He reflects on the inevitability of death and decries fools who lament their limited lifespans. Although he provides different frames of reference for time, he also emphasizes how misleading each frame of reference is (Ep. 77.11-12): Won’t he seem the biggest fool of all to you, he who lamented that he had not lived a thousand years ago (ante annos mille)? And equally foolish is he who laments that he will not be alive in a thousand years (post annos mille). It’s all the same (Haec paria sunt): you will not exist and you have not existed. Each time is of no concern (utrumque 300 The Stoic’s speech, its potential to address Lucilius, and the possibility that the letter might address a broader audience depend on the timing and circumstances of reception. The placement of Seneca’s account of his own endurance through sickness in Epistle 78 emphasizes this point implicitly. The words that are appropriate for Marcellinus in dealing with his sickness might not be the words appropriate for Seneca in dealing with his. 301 According to orthodox Stoicism, time is one of the incorporeals (along with lekton, void, and place). Time, like lekton, subsists, but does not exist physically. Like other Stoics, however, Seneca allows for some terminological imprecision when discussing the present. At times he claims we occupy no point in time, though other times he claims we occupy merely an infinitesimally small point. See L-S 51. On the existence of the present, see Brev. 8.1-4. Seneca elsewhere claims that we occupy no portion of time at all (e.g. Cons. Marc. 21.2). Cf. Ep. 49.3, NQ 6.32.10. 200 tempus alienum est). You have been concentrated into this point (In hoc punctum coniectus es); were you to extend it (extendas), how long will you extend it (extendes)? Seneca here repeats annos mille, throwing into relief the uselessness of quantification. The equivalency between those who lament not living a thousand years ago and those who will not live for another thousand years highlights the misguidedness of each complaint: neither complaint addresses the fact that the only moment available to anyone is the present. Seneca’s use of the word punctum implies a connection between the present moment, which Seneca thematizes, and our own present moment as we read the word punctum. His consideration of the extension of this punctum suggests a certain degree of self-consciousness as if he were asking himself how to extend the letter. This is just one of several ways in which Seneca calls our attention to the text itself and our experience of reading in the course of discussing time. By necessity, our encounter with the letter takes place in no time but the present. Considerations of time along the lines of the passage above pervade the letter. Later, he encourages Lucilius to meditate upon the multitudes of people and animals who have died, will die, and are dying (Ep. 77.12-13). The consumption of food serves as another frame of reference for time. Gluttony is symptomatic of a broader dissatisfaction with limits, including the limits of life. 302 He decries those so obsessed with luxury that they refuse to accept death (Ep. 77.16, 18). Throughout the letter, Seneca mocks those who misperceive the quantity of life as its quality and those who fear the end of their lives. 303 302 Cf. Ep. 77.16: voluptates ipsas quae te morantur ac retinent consumpsisti. 303 Drawing primarily from De Brevitate Vitae, Armisen-Marchetti explains that according to Seneca the foolish focus on fulfilling their desires, thereby always tending to the future, without seizing the present, the only moment that truly exists. She also explains that those who have successfully appropriated the present can look back on the past more peacefully, as having truly possessed it, and therefore reconcile themselves more happily with death (1995: 555-56). 201 From its beginning, Seneca heavily marks temporality. He begins the Epistle with the word Subito, observing that the Alexandrian ships appeared to him today (hodie). He notes that these ships are customarily sent forth to announce the arrival of the fleet to come (nuntiare secuturae classis adventum), noting that they are called letter-carriers (tabellarias, Ep. 77.1) Seneca conflates the opening of the letter with the arrival of the letter-carriers, perhaps one of which will convey this very letter back to Lucilius. He not only marks the immediacy of the ships’ appearance: he notes too that they are harbingers of ships to come, but only signs of the future. True to his discussion throughout, only the present exists. He makes especial note of the ship’s sail, which adds speed to their travel. 304 Seneca calls our attention not only to the past and to the future, but the time between the two, mapped out onto the geographical distance that the ships cover as well as the physical space of the page. 305 Seneca’s movement is conspicuously at odds with both the swift-moving ships and the eager mobs, who rush to greet them. Almost as if bragging, he writes that he felt great pleasure from his slowness (magnam ex pigritia mea sensi voluptatem) amidst the rush of those hastening (In hoc omnium discursu properantium) to the shore. 306 Seneca moves slowly in contrast with those rushing to receive letters, both showing and taking pleasure in his indifference. He claims that though he is about to receive his letters (epistulas), he did not hasten (non properavi) on account of the fact that he has had neither loss (perit) nor gain (adquiritur) for some time. He notes that he would have felt the same way even were he not an old man (etiam si senex non 304 solis enim licet siparum intendere, quod in alto omnes habent naves, Ep. 77.1. 305 Zeno defined time as an interval of movement (SVF 1.93) and Chrysippus defined it as an interval of movement of the world (SVF 2.509-11, 513, 520), perhaps hence Seneca’s use of movement as a prompt for a meditation on time. 306 In De Officiis 1.101, Cicero identifies rashness as an indication that one has not submitted his impulses to reason. 202 essem), though in truth he feels it much more now (nunc vero multo magis, Ep. 77.3). His state of affairs has remained unchanged for some time, though Seneca himself has changed. Seneca moves from the particular to the general through an associative flow (Ep. 77.3-4): quantulumcumque haberem, tamen plus iam mihi superesset viatici quam viae, praesertim cum eam viam simus ingressi quam peragere non est necesse. Iter inperfectum erit si in media parte aut citra petitum locum steteris: vita non est inperfecta si honesta est; ubicumque desines, si bene desines, tota est. However little I would have had, nevertheless, already more provision than path would have remained, especially since we set out upon this path, which is not necessary to finish. The journey will be incomplete even if you will have stopped in the middle part or short of the sought after location: life is not incomplete if it is honorable. Wherever you depart, if you depart well, life is complete. 307 Seneca’s stroll to see the mail-carriers takes on an allegorical significance. His slow walk bespeaks a grasp not only of the state of his own personal finances, but the nature of a life well- lived. Seneca’s various accounts of his own resources, whether they are temporal or fiscal, provide frames of reference for time, though these might be just as meaningless as the ones that came before. Seneca’s associative style juxtaposes different senses of the flow of time. He invites us to consider the time it takes for the ships to show up after the letter carriers, the time it takes for the Alexandrian ships to reach their destination, the time it takes Seneca and the rushing crowd to reach the shore, the time it takes Lucilius and/or us to receive Seneca’s letters, the time it takes Seneca to live and die, and even the time it takes our eyes to traverse the text (or the time it takes to hear the text recited). In more ways than one, Seneca belabors the distinction between the time within narrative and the time it takes to read the narrative. The condensation of time that writing effects strategically dislocates us in ways that accord with Seneca’s didactic aims: we are not with Seneca, walking along the shore or on the ships described, but reading these different 307 As he puts it later in the letter, Nullum sine exitu iter est (13). 203 moments in the time it takes for our eyes to traverse the page, setting out on a journey of a different kind through the space of the scroll or the page as the case may be. 308 Seneca then digresses onto the subject of the death of Tullius Marcellinus, a mutual friend. 309 The purpose of the anecdote is to illustrate the principal point of the letter, namely the irrelevance of the length of life with respect to its quality, a notion rendered more palatable by the existence of only the present moment. Though such exempla are typical of Seneca’s writing on the whole, this exemplum must be understood within the context of this particular letter. Seneca begins the anecdote by observing that Seneca and Lucilius’s mutual acquaintance, Tullius Marcellinus, was afflicted with a disease that while not incurable (non insanabili), was nonetheless so long-lasting, grievous and demanding (longo et molesto et multa imperante). Seneca sets the scene in ways characteristic of the epistolary form, catching Lucilius up on recent news about a friend both know. He notes that Tullius began to consider death (deliberare de morte), a frequent preoccupation of Seneca’s as well. Seneca notes that Tullius summoned his friends together, one who was timid who was urging him to do that which he had urged himself to do (id illi suadebat quod sibi suasisset), another who was a fawning flatterer (adulator et blandus) offered advice that he thought would be pleasing to Tullius as he deliberated (Ep. 77.5). Seneca singles out “our friend the Stoic” (amicus noster Stoicus), an exceptional man who is strong and vigorous, and worthy to be praised. Seneca notes that this man seemed to him to admonish (cohortatus) him best (optime, Ep. 77.6). 308 It should not be forgotten that philosophical progress, more generally speaking, also occurs through time. Cf. Armisen-Marchetti 1995: 545. 309 No biographical information is known about this figure. Summers 1926: 255 points out that it is a different Marcellinus from the Marcellinus of Ep. 29. 204 The friends Seneca mentions might at the very least remind us of the friendship between Lucilius and Seneca. 310 Characteristic of this kind of exemplary scene is not only the advice given by a trusted friend, but also the evaluation of that advice by the one presenting the anecdote: as Seneca points out, the Stoic seemed worthy of praise for his admonishment. Seneca expresses a contrast between the flattering friend, the cowering friend, and the Stoic friend, applying the adjective noster, indicating his affiliation with the exemplar. The gathering of friends and assessment of differing opinions might also be read as a figure for Seneca’s own doxographic compositions, in which he musters and assesses the opinions of intellectual authorities, perhaps with his own death and sickness in mind. 311 After setting the scene, Seneca gives a speech in the voice of the unnamed Stoic (Ep. 77.6): ‘noli, mi Marcelline, torqueri tamquam de re magna deliberes. Non est res magna vivere: omnes servi tui vivunt, omnia animalia: magnum est honeste mori, prudenter, fortiter. Cogita quamdiu iam idem facias: cibus, somnus, libido—per hunc circulum curritur; mori velle non tantum prudens aut fortis aut miser, etiam fastidiosus potest.’ “Do not, my Marcellinus, be tortured as if you were deliberating about something great. It’s no great thing to live; all your slaves live, all animals live. It is a great thing to die honorably, wisely, and courageously. Consider how long already you have been doing the same thing: food, sleep, lust are continued through this circle. Not only the wise, strong, or miserable, but even the squeamish can wish for death.” The content of the speech is significant: the word circulus appears in Seneca’s considerations of time elsewhere in his corpus and relate to the different models of time presented in Epistle 77. In the 12 th Epistle Seneca presents the image of concentric circles, the largest representing a 310 On the role of friendship in Seneca’s Epistles, see Wilcox 2012: 115-31. On the role of parainetic speech in Roman culture, see Habinek 1998: 45-59. 311 On Seneca’s relationship to intellectual history, Armisen-Marchetti writes, “Et elle (la connaissance du passé) y sert quand elle met l’espirit en contact avec les grandes âmes du passé, qui deviennent des interlocuteurs et en quelque sorte des guides” (1995: 558). The Stoic’s speech seems representative of this approach, particularly given the potential of his speech to rupture the frame of address to speak to other audiences. 205 liftetime, the second largest youth, the third a year, the fourth a month, and the fifth a day (6- 8). 312 In the course of describing the supreme good, Seneca musters similar comparisons between life and circles. 313 The speech anticipates Seneca’s own words later in the text, which decry the pointlessness of extending life. The circle might also call to mind the actual convivial context, in which dinner-guests sit around a table, not to mention the eternal recurrence of the Stoic cosmos. 314 Before Marcellinus kills himself, he distributes gifts to his attendants in imitation of a banquet, inverting the tropes Seneca uses throughout the letter, which equate dissatisfaction with the limited span of life with gluttony. 315 Marcellinus’s behavior suggests that he has accepted a different understanding of time, one that is simultaneously circular, infinite, and fleeting. The irrelevance of conventional notions of time discussed throughout the letter provide an important context for understanding the potential of the letter addressed to Lucilius to speak to Seneca’s broader readership, and its parainetic function, especially vis-à-vis the Stoic’s speech. The speech of the Stoic must be understood both as a feature of the anecdote and within the context of the letter. The anecdote as a whole, including the sermocinatio, in Seneca’s hands 312 Discussed in Habinek 1982: 66-69. Lévy 2003: 495-96 points out that Hierocles uses the image of concentric circles to imagine oikeiosis, a process of maturation through time. 313 Cf. Ep. 74.27: Utrum maiorem an minorem circulum scribas ad spatium eius pertinet, non ad formam: licet alter diu manserit, alterum statim obduxeris et in eum in quo scriptus est pulverem solveris, in eadem uterque forma fuit… Honestam vitam ex centum annorum numero in quantum voles corripe et in unum diem coge: aeque honesta est. On the relationship between time and moral quality, see Armisen-Marchetti 1995: 565. 314 On the difficult relationship between Stoic conceptions of time and eternal recurrence, see Long and Sedley 310-13. 315 Deinde ipsum Marcellinum admonuit non esse inhumanum, quemadmodum cena peracta reliquiae circumstantibus dividantur, sic peracta vita aliquid porrigi iis qui totius vitae ministri fuissent. Erat Marcellinus facilis animi et liberalis etiam cum de suo fieret; minutas itaque summulas distribuit flentibus servis et illos ultro consolatus est, Ep. 77.8. Ker 2009: 275 points out that he also inverts the luxurious connotations of the bath. On the morality of bathing, see Yegül 1992: 40-42. 206 serves as another tool for dislocating us in relation to conventional markers of time. Seneca invites Lucilius to appropriate the anecdote for himself (Ep. 77.10): I have departed into a playlet (In fabellam excessi) not unpleasing to you. Recognize that even the death of your friend is neither difficult nor wretched. Though killed himself, he nevertheless he departed exceedingly softly (mollissime) and slipped away from life (vita elapsus est). Indeed let this playlet (fabella) be useful (ne inutilis) to you. Often exigency requires such examples (talia exempla necessitas exigit). Often we ought to die, but do not wish to do so, often we do die and do not wish to do so. Seneca notes that the digression is not only pleasing, but useful. Lucilius can bring this story to bear whenever he considers death as well as when advising another who is afflicted by grievous sickness and considering suicide. Seneca says much the same regarding the anecdote of the slave who bashes his brains out rather than serve unwillingly: he asks, “Would you not take up (sumes) his courage and say (ut dicas), ‘I refuse to serve’?” (Ep. 77.15). He encourages the active appropriation of the text. The repetition of saepe in the passage above connects the utility of the example to the circumstance in which it might be brought to bear. Though the circumstances of Marcellinus’s death are not irrelevant, Seneca clearly implies that it speaks to conditions beyond those of its local context: in essence, in facing our own death and sickness, he invites us to step into Marcellinus’s shoes and listen to the Stoic’s advice. Seneca’s instructions are all the more significant in light of the letter’s primary preoccupations: if historical distinctions are illusory, since all things happen in a singular present, Marcellinus’s death might as well be occurring before our very eyes. What conventional understandings of time lose in relevance, the anecdote gains, lending an air of immediacy to the words of the Stoic, even though they are addressed to Marcellinus. If the relevance of the anecdote transcends the moment of Marcellinus’s suicide, we might detect at least an insinuation of metalepsis in the speech of the Stoic: it does not break the 207 frame of address per se, but by analogy Seneca seems to invite Lucilius to imagine that the Stoic is addressing him if he were to appropriate Marcellinus as an exemplar. Metalepsis in this case depends on the conditions of reception. In addition to his direct appeal, the strong parallelism between the words of the Stoic and Seneca’s own advice throughout the rest of the letter underscores the pertinence of the Stoic’s words for Lucilius. Further, the very disjunction at the heart of reading itself (whereby the reader moves through different locales, speeds, and moments in a short span of time through the linear process of reading) at least suggests the potential for the speech of the friend to be dislocated from its historical moment and speak in a more immediate way to Lucilius or the reader. The potential for the speech to address Lucilius in turn serves as a paradigm for the reader to understand how Seneca’s address to Lucilius speaks to him or her, should such exigency present itself. It is perhaps no coincidence that Seneca uses the same verb (excedo) to describe exiting life and exiting into a digression, given the elusiveness of time and speech, which seem to escape any container. He seems to suggest an analogy between his orchestration of death within the letter, through digression, and death itself. While Seneca might depart into a historical anecdote and speak in the persona of another character, Marcellinus, in departing from his life, might “escape” into Seneca’s address to Lucilius as an exemplar. The word suggests a unity between two ways of breaking out of context, whether it is the context of the body of the letter or the historically particular conditions of Marcellinus’s death. We might fairly say that the monologue of Marcellinus’s friend is paradigmatic of the transhistorical value of the exemplum as well as the text, should we find ourselves assuming Marcellinus’s position. This transhistorical exemplarity might be flipped on its head however. Inasmuch as the Stoic’s words might rupture the frame of the address to speak to us, so too might we locate Seneca within the voice of the Stoic. Ker 2009: 118 offers a useful opening to this interpretation: 208 Even if we are not tempted to identify this friend with Seneca himself, the friend clearly emerges as a dramaturge who helps Marcellinus to act out the successful death scene. The fabella turns out to have served an important role vis-à-vis the ending of the letter with its vita/fabula analogy: it has already allowed the letter’s reader to watch a “playlet” within the letter itself, illustrating what a good clausula - the one choreographed by the Stoic friend - actually looks like. 316 Seneca orchestrates the Stoic friend orchestrating their mutual friend’s death in part through a speech, which picks up on meditations offered throughout the text. 317 Still, even if we reject the speech as a mise-en-abyme of the letter itself with the Stoic as a stand-in for Seneca, it is impossible that it is not in fact Seneca who is at least in some sense the auctor of the Stoic’s words. While the speech of the Stoic friend parallels what Seneca has to say elsewhere in the text, it is still a feature of that text and those words are Seneca’s. Inasmuch as the fabella might relate to our own circumstances, thus transcending the localized conditions of its immediate context, so too might we discover Seneca’s authorial voice immanent within a speech of the past. To put it another way, in speaking in the same voice with the same concerns, Seneca’s voice time-travels, connecting two distinct moments together in the present moment of the text. From this perspective, immanence of Senecan speech in the Stoic’s mouth serves as another means for thinking about the pointlessness of the conventional markers of time, given that these two speakers offer advice with the same tone, register, and content across time. This creates an uncanny effect within the speech: it is almost possible to perceive two speakers speaking across time, yet at the same time, to multiple audiences within and outside both the anecdote and the epistolary frame. 5.C. Dissolving the Historian: The Voice of Aufidius Bassus in Ep. 30 316 There are theatrical connotations too to Seneca’s use of the word exitum above (Ep. 77.10). 317 On the dramatic dimensions of this scene, see Hijmans 1966: 240. 209 The speech of the dying historian Aufidius Bassus in Epistle 30 is similar to the speech of the Stoic in Epistle 77 insofar as Bassus seems to address Seneca within an anecdote that Seneca recounts at the same time as he addresses Lucilius and Seneca’s broader audience. Seneca presents Bassus simultaneously speaking to himself and to Lucilius, as if different moments in time are occurring at the same time. He blends their voices together erasing distinctions of both time and personae. Seneca narrates his encounter with Bassus through shifting tenses as if to present multiple moments occurring at once. Moreover, he implicitly contrasts a circular understanding of time with the linear understanding of time characteristic of historians. 318 Bassus echoes a number of Seneca’s own claims in Epistle 26, thereby further dissolving their identities together as well as presumably the different moments when Seneca wrote Epistle 26, when he visited Bassus, when he composed Epistle 30, when Lucilius received the letters, and even when we read them. 319 Martha Nussbaum has claimed that the Stoic idea of learning is one of “increasing vigilance and wakefulness, as the mind, increasingly rapid and alive, learns to repossess its own experiences from the fog of habit, convention, and forgetfulness” (1994: 340). 320 In rewriting similar maxims, Seneca can be read as attempting to maintain a sense of 318 Armisen-Marchetti 1995 surveys Seneca’s writing about historians, which casts them in an overwhelmingly negative light. She notes that he criticizes historians for a myopic focus on a narrow range of history, in contrast to the view of the sapiens, which embraces the totality of time itself. According to Seneca, history is boring, prone to mislead, and filled with unbelievable stories. She notes that he treats history as simply a chronological record of events. In his eyes, history is useful only as a repository of moral exempla to be imitated by the reader in the present. Though Seneca does not remark upon history per se in Epistle 30, Bassus’s literary output and the narrow point of view it must have entailed in Seneca’s eyes are at odds with the letter’s mixed chronology. See N.Q. 7.16.1-2 for his common criticisms of historians. On Bassus’s renown as a historian, see Bardon 1956: 165-66. 319 On the place of the letter within the whole collection, see Maurach 1970: 112-16, Hachmann 1995: 212-19. 320 Williams 2015: 136-7 adds, “Seneca fully shares this preoccupation with wakefulness, an emphasis revealed not just through the substance of his written philosophy but also through its style of delivery.” 210 wakefulness and awareness of death’s immanence. Our death is no closer or further away than any other moment in time if all history or the entire cycle of fate recurs in the present. Seneca seems to be writing in order to maintain his own grasp of cosmic, circular time, in which our own deaths are occurring infinitely within this very present moment. Seneca frames his understanding of time through allusion to ekpyrosis. He writes, “whatever nature has composed, it separates, and whatever it separates it recomposes” (quidquid composuit resolvit, et quidquid resolvit componit iterum, Ep. 30.11). Seneca’s description of nature’s cycles arguably evoke the repetitions between the Epistle 26, Bassus’s imitations of Seneca, and vice versa. He notes in Ep. 30.4 that to learn to depart from life is a great thing, which takes a long time to learn, 321 a sentiment anticipated by the repetitions of the Epicurean maxim meditare mortem in Ep. 26.8-9. Seneca meditates upon death again and again in these two letters. The repetitions and parallelism of the texts can be read as reflecting Seneca’s ongoing to attempt to bring his mind into harmony with the cyclic nature of the Stoic cosmos. Seneca opens the letter claiming that he saw (vidi) Aufidius Bassus: he uses perfect verbs to describe Bassus’s decrepitude before comparing him to a sinking ship and a crumbling building (Ep. 30.1-2). He then shifts to the present when describing the liveliness of Bassus’s mind (Bassus tamen noster alacer animo est, Ep. 30.3). Seneca extols the benefits of philosophy which make his mind cheerful (hilarem), strong (fortem), and happy (laetum) in spite of his failing body. For the reader proceeding through the collection, the description cannot fail to recall Seneca’s earlier contrast between his own bodily infirmity and lively mind in Epistle 26. He writes that he does not feel the impairment (iniuriam) of age within his mind (in animo) even though he feels it in his body (in corpore). He notes that his mind is strong (viget animus) and 321 Magna res est, Lucili, haec et diu discenda, cum adventat hora illa inevitabilis, aequo animo abire, Ep. 30.4. Cf. Ep. 26.9: ‘egregia res est mortem condiscere.’ 211 rejoices at its slight connection to his body (gaudet non multum sibi esse cum corpore). He notes that his soul dances (Exultat) and claims that it has reached its bloom (hunc ait esse florem suum, Ep. 26.2). The liveliness of Bassus’s mind and his decrepit body is a mirror image of Seneca’s. After explaining that some perils, unlike those of old age, offer some hope of escape, Seneca notes that Bassus seemed to be attending his own funeral, this time using an imperfect (Bassus noster videbatur mihi, Ep. 30.5). Though vidi in the opening suggested that Seneca was recounting a single visit with Bassus, the imperfect here suggests that his visitations were actually ongoing: later he notes that he visited Bassus rather frequently (frequentius). Seneca reverts back to the present when introducing his speech: “For he says many things about death, and makes his case assiduously in order to persuade us” (Nam de morte multa loquitur et id agit sedulo ut nobis persuadeat, Ep. 30.5). He then gives his words directly: “‘Therefore,’ he says, ‘death is so far beyond every evil that it is beyond all fear of evils’” (‘Ergo’ inquit ‘mors adeo extra omne malum est ut sit extra omnem malorum metum’, Ep. 30.6). In contrast with a tidy, linear, chronological account, Seneca’s mix of tenses and aspects suggests that there are two or more moments occurring simultaneously: Seneca seems to be both recounting a visit with Bassus and visiting him at this very moment. This fusion of different moments together within the text forms a contrast with the way in which he describes the work of historians elsewhere as a chronological list of events. The philosopher, in contrast with the myopic historian, sees eternity in a single moment, a viewpoint arguably reflected in the condensation of time within the letter and nowhere more pronouncedly than in the passages where Seneca and Bassus’s voice merge possibly with the reader’s as he or she reads the text aloud. Following Bassus’s claim that death is nothing to fear, Seneca reflects simultaneously on his own writing and Bassus’s speech, which are, in a certain sense, the same thing (Ep. 30.7): 212 Haec ego scio et saepe dicta et saepe dicenda, sed neque cum legerem aeque mihi profuerunt neque cum audirem iis dicentibus qui negabant timenda a quorum metu aberant: hic vero plurimum apud me auctoritatis habuit, cum loqueretur de morte vicina. I know these things have often been said and should often be said, but neither when I was reading them did they benefit me equally nor when I was listening to people saying these things, who were at some distance away from the fear of those things which they were denying one should fear. Truly, this man before me held the greatest authority when he was speaking about nearby death. Seneca emphasizes the authority that Bassus has based on his closeness to death. 322 He contrasts such aged authorities with both those who are far from death as well as writing itself. Seneca makes similar claims in his own voice in Ep. 26.6: “Set aside the studies (studia) on which you have spent your whole life: death will give its judgment about you (mors de te pronuntiatura est). Therefore I say, neither the disputes, erudite talk, and words collected from the precepts of the wise, nor learned speech (disputationes et litterata colloquia et ex praeceptis sapientium verba collecta et eruditus sermo) shows true strength of mind (verum robur animi); even the most timid speak boldly.” Paradoxically, in writing, Seneca dismisses the value of writing. He speaks pragmatically of ridding oneself of the fear of death not through fancy words, but through speaking to one who has firsthand knowledge of it. Seneca seems to convey this struggle implicitly at the level of literary form: in order to get over the fear of death, one must meditate upon it again and again. Bassus’s speech might be considered a symptom of a problem regarding persuasion that afflicts Seneca’s textual instruction more generally. Insofar as Bassus’s speech loses its power to persuade when separated from the individual, so too are we reminded of Seneca’s absence, which might have lent his words greater persuasiveness. Distance is crucial to the problem Seneca describes: death is nearby (vicina) Bassus and those who fail to persuade are at some distance from (aberant) death. The fact that the discussion takes place in a letter, which traverses 322 Wilcox notes, “In these letters Seneca also plays around with personification and its opposite, representing texts as though they were people (a means whereby letters can replace their absent author), and people as though they were texts” (2012: 133). 213 some distance, underscores our own problematic distance from both figures and might, at least at this stage in the letter, remind the reader of his or her own distance from death depending on his or her personal circumstances. Yet, as we will see, Seneca ultimately reverses this position, concluding that Bassus is no closer to death than anyone else. Seneca seems to write himself into recognizing this fact as the text proceeds. The act of writing seems to recall a temporarily forgotten grasp of the nature of time. He calls into question the value of both age and history paradoxically through the assimilation of Bassus to his own persona. In describing Bassus’s rehearsal of his own funeral, Seneca writes that he seemed, “to escort and lay himself out (prosequi se et componere) for burial and to live as though outliving himself and to bear wisely a desire for himself (desiderium sui)” (Ep. 30.5). Given the frequency with which Seneca visited Bassus, it would seem safe to assume that Seneca would attend not only Bassus’s rehearsal of his funeral, but the funeral itself (unless of course Seneca himself were to die first). Bassus’s self-mourning can be read as anticipating Seneca’s mourning of him. 323 Componere has strong literary connotations and arguably evokes Seneca’s own composition of the letter. Bassus composing himself symbolically suggests Seneca’s literary rehearsal for death. Seneca later notes, “no one has cheerfully (hilaris) greeted approaching death unless he had composed himself (se… composuerat) for it for a considerable time” (Ep. 30.12). Davies 2010: 83 notes, the phrase desiderium sui is used equally in consolatory and epistolary discourse (e.g. Ep. 40.1 and 49.1). Bassus’s expression of longing for himself resonates with Seneca’s own repeated expressions of longing for Lucilius. 323 Cf. Ep. 30.3: Hoc facit Bassus noster et eo animo vultuque finem suum spectat quo alienum spectare nimis securi putares. Seneca suggests that Bassus has a third-person’s perspective on his own demise. 214 However, Bassus’s proleptic funeral can also be read as a re-performance of Seneca’s own speech given in Epistle 26. Before the speech Seneca writes that he speaks as if the test were at hand (velut adpropinquet experimentum). He notes that he observes and counsels himself (me observo et adloquor, Ep. 26.4). Seneca writes in his own voice (inquam, Ep. 26.5): ‘Non timide itaque componor ad illum diem quo remotis strophis ac fucis de me iudicaturus sum, utrum loquar fortia an sentiam, numquid simulatio fuerit et mimus quidquid contra fortunam iactavi verborum contumacium.’ “And so I do not fearfully compose myself for that day when, having set aside artifice and disguise, I pass judgment upon myself as to whether I have been saying or feeling brave things, whether the words of scorn I have cast against fortune are simulation or farce.” Bassus performs a verision of Seneca’s own meditatio mortis in his funeral. In Epistle 26 Seneca emphasizes the fact that when death is at hand, all artifice falls away. In Epistle 30, there is an undeniably theatrical element to the death scene as Seneca assumes the disguise of Bassus and gives speeches in his voice. Yet even when Seneca does assume disguise and artifice, so to speak, and gives voice to another character, his authorial voice bleeds through the character he imitates. The pretense falls away. Distinctions of time and personae dissolve: Bassus anticipates the future in his funeral, even as that performance recalls Seneca’s words from Epistle 26. Seneca’s use of different tenses on the other hand blends past, present, and future together. Seneca presents Bassus as a kind of figure for his author and, as we will see in his concluding speech, assimilates Bassus’s voice to his own. At one moment, the reader may see the gaps between himself or herself, Seneca, and Bassus as insurmountable, at another it may seem as if Bassus or Seneca is addressing the reader presently and directly as their identities run together with the text. 215 Following the quotation and its qualification, Seneca goes on to offer a disquisition on the courage that facing death, especially by old age, entails. He persistently uses spatial terms: he claims that one is braver in the midst of death itself than in its neighborhood (in ipsa morte... quam... circa mortem) and that death, having been put before (admota) even the inexperienced has given them courage (animum dedit). He refers to death as about to come close at hand inevitably (illa... in propinquo est utique ventura, Ep. 30.8). He remarks that he was listening to Bassus most gladly (Libentissime itaque illum audiebam) as if he were giving his vote about death and revealing the sort of nature death had as if nearby (qualis esset eius natura velut propius inspectae indicantem, Ep. 30.9). Note again the shift in tenses: he had presented Bassus speaking in the present (or arguably perfect) (inquit, Ep. 30.6), but now reverts to the imperfect. Though one who died and came back to life might have more authority, Seneca notes that those who have seen and welcomed (receperunt) death are second best (Ep. 30.9). Seneca suggests that Bassus welcomed death perhaps just as he welcomed Seneca during his visit. Seneca implicitly invites the reader to compare various senses of distance, the distance of Bassus from death, Seneca’s distance from Bassus (perhaps as both a reader of Bassus’s words and an audience to his speech), the distance of Seneca from Lucilius, and our own distance from both Bassus and Seneca. Proximity would seem to be crucial to Seneca’s authority on Bassus and Bassus’s authority on death. It is Bassus’s closeness to death that allows him to convincingly give his vote about it and indicate its nature, an authority that Seneca perhaps also possesses. Seneca has a privileged position by virtue of hearing his disquisition in person and derives some degree of authority through the implied comparison between their personae. After a brief disquisition on the benefits of death and the appeal it has for certain people, Seneca again recounts his visitations with Bassus. Here, he gives his words in indirect speech 216 initially, though he later writes that he is gladly listening to these things (Libenter haec... audio, Ep. 30.15), indicating that at some point he starts giving Bassus’s speech directly (Ep. 30.14): Dicebat quidem ille Epicuri praeceptis obsequens, primum sperare se nullum dolorem esse in illo extremo anhelitu; si tamen esset, habere aliquantum in ipsa brevitate solacii; nullum enim dolorem longum esse qui magnus est. Ceterum succursurum sibi etiam in ipsa distractione animae corporisque, si cum cruciatu id fieret, post illum dolorem se dolere non posse. Non dubitare autem se quin senilis anima in primis labris esset nec magna vi distraheretur a corpore. ‘Ignis qui alentem materiam occupavit aqua et interdum ruina extinguendus est: ille qui alimentis deficitur sua sponte subsidit.’ Indeed, following the maxims of Epicurus, he was saying first that he hoped that there would be no pain in his last breath; if nevertheless there were some pain, he was saying that he had some solace in its very brevity. He was saying that no great grief lasts long. However that may be, there will be some relief to him also in the separation of the spirit and the body, even if it should happen with torture, namely that after that pain he would not be able to be feel pain. He was saying that he does not doubt however that his aged soul was on the tips of his lips and that it would be drawn from his body with no great force. “Fire, which has seized nourishing material, must be extinguished by water and sometimes even collapse; when that man runs out of nourishment, he subsides on its own accord.” Although Reynolds puts only the final sentence in quotation marks, we might nonetheless at least wonder if Bassus’s speech might have begun earlier or if the imposition of quotation marks itself obscures the intermingling of Seneca and Bassus’s speech. Given the frequency with which Seneca cites Epicurus throughout the first thirty three Epistles, Bassus’s citation near the end of the letter again reinforces the parallelism between Seneca and Bassus, especially as authors. Only three letters later, Seneca delimits the value of his own practice of citation in his command to Lucilius to focus on the whole of works rather than excerpts; in spite of the substantive differences between the letters, they both share meta-didactic preoccupations. In less direct ways, Seneca suggests an association between his composition and Bassus’s rehearsal for death. His allusion to the fact that the aged soul rests upon the lips calls to mind Bassus’s speech, an exhalation of breath, which Seneca “draws out.” The last word that Seneca presents in Bassus’s 217 voice in this quotation is subsidit, which creates an overt association between the sentiment expressed in the quotation and the quotation itself: Bassus almost seems to have a proleptic awareness of Seneca’s use of his words. The sentence beginning with Ignis must be a direct quotation since Seneca notes that he is actually listening to Bassus’s words (Libenter haec... audio, Ep. 30.15). The image of fire picks up on the image of the destruction of the building, which Seneca had used earlier in describing the failing body of Bassus (Ep. 30.2, 4). The imagery that Bassus uses, the fact that his words show consciousness of Seneca’s appropriation, and his citation of Epicurus all reinforce the parallelism of the two figures. Where Seneca-qua-Seneca’s speech ends and Bassus’s speech begins is ambiguous. Following the passage above, Seneca writes that he was listening to these things gladly not because they are new, but rather at having been led to the very presence of the matter (in rem praesentem perductus, Ep. 30.15). Initially Seneca had noted that Bassus was speaking (dicebat), though here he says that he is listening (audio). 324 It is as if he conflates the moment during which he was listening to Bassus and the moment during which he was reading his own text to himself aloud. The insertion of mi Lucili underscores the simultaneity of Bassus’s speech to Seneca and Seneca’s textual “speech” to Lucilius. Is the “presence of the matter” Bassus or Seneca’s imminent death or perhaps even the reader’s? While Seneca had dismissed the power of writing to convey the authority of one close to death, here Bassus, Seneca, and the text seem almost indistinguishable. Seneca goes on to commend Bassus’s courage in facing death and his passive acceptance. He proceeds to present the speech of Bassus indirectly, offers a response, and then offers a soliloquy of indeterminate length in Bassus’s voice (Ep. 30.16-17): 324 The phrase echoes his claim in Ep. 30.9: Libentissime itaque illum audiebam. Note the contrast between the imperfect and the present tenses of audio. 218 He was saying (aiebat) that we feel torture through our own effort, since we then tremble when we believe that death is close to us (prope a nobis esse credimus mortem). Indeed when is it not close by (a quo enim non prope est), ready in all places and at all moments (parata omnibus locis omnibusque momentis)? “But let us consider,” he said, “then, when some cause of death seems to approach (accedere), how much closer (aliae propiores) other causes might be, which are not feared.” An enemy was threatening to kill one man, but indigestion came beforehand. If we wish to discriminate between the causes of our fear, we will find that some exist and some seem to exist (inveniemus alias esse, alias videri). We do not fear death, but the thought of death. From this we are indeed always away at the same distance (ab ipsa enim semper tantundem absumus). Therefore, if death is to be feared, it should always be feared. Indeed what time is free from death (quod enim morti tempus exemptum est)? Earlier Seneca had emphasized Bassus’s authority based on his proximity to death. Almost as if thinking aloud and evincing a certain degree of spontaneity of thought, Seneca arrives at a seemingly different conclusion. In essence, he democratizes Bassus’s exceptional authority. Spatial distinctions turn out to be just as unstable as distinctions of identity and time. Though inquit in the second position definitively marks the beginning of Bassus’s direct speech, it is unclear just how long the speech lasts. The direct speech again effects a fusion between the voices of Bassus and Seneca as well as the text itself. He assimilates Bassus’s narrative voice to his own. Perhaps Seneca had intended the reader to recognize these words as neither Bassus nor Seneca’s but their own. Our awakening to death’s proximity might be the same as our own. It is almost as if the text reveals both Bassus and Seneca as fictions, which are as specious as anyone’s proximity to death. Distinctions of time and identity seem to evaporate. Death is omnipresent. If we accept the view of time that Seneca presents elsewhere, namely that the only real moment is the present, then we might qualify the value not only of the past and the future, but also of history itself, whether that is written history or the history of an individual. From the sage’s perspective, the entire world is coming into being and dissolving into conflagration in an eternal present, as Seneca summarizes it. The closeness to death, which lends Bassus exceptional 219 authority, dissolves in the blurring of voices that concludes the letter, or perhaps transforms into the reader’s. 325 Bassus’s closeness to death may as well be Seneca’s or even our own. Seneca writes earlier in Ep. 26.7, Haec mecum loquor, sed tecum quoque me locutum puta. Iuvenior es: quid refert? non dinumerantur anni. Incertum est quo loco te mors expectet; itaque tu illam omni loco expecta. I say these things to myself, but imagine that I have said them to you. You are younger: what does it matter? Our years are not reckoned. It is uncertain where death awaits you; and so expect it everywhere. These words would not have seemed out of place in Bassus’s voice. Seneca arrives at the same conclusion in Bassus’s voice in Epistle 30 as he reached after his own in Epistle 26. Both of their speeches are timeless and universal: age and personae hardly matter. The fact that Seneca had reached this conclusion already suggests that one must struggle in writing to maintain this state of awareness. Seneca’s writing communicates death’s immanence through a persistent rehearsal and through the interchangeability of speech between himself, Bassus, and the reader. Presumably the sage, who understands that the entire cycle of history occurs in a single moment, recognizes that our death has already happened an infinite number of times and will continue to do so. In noting that no time is free from death, Seneca makes death’s immediacy palpable less in his personal encounter with Bassus than in the moment, any moment, we encounter the text itself and hear ourselves speak Bassus’s words. 5.D. Itaque ut M. Cato: The Speech of the Magnus Animus in Ep. 71 325 The proximity of death might remind us of the power of letters to render the distance between sender and receiver nonexistent. Cf. Ep. 67.2. Altman 1982: 186 claims that a defining trait of epistolary discourse is the power of letters to simultaneously erase the distance between writer and reader and serve as its reminder. 220 Epistle 71 collapses addressees in ways comparable to the two previously discussed letters in this chapter. Seneca presents the words of the magnus animus, i.e. the sage, though Seneca notes that it is just as Cato would have spoken as well (Itaque ut M. Cato, Ep. 71.15). While Seneca underscores the impossibility of offering Lucilius sound advice based on the fact that circumstances might change, rendering it irrelevant, he nonetheless has the sage/Cato address him across space and time. The sage/Cato’s apprehension of the cyclic destructions of the world reframes the epistolary conundrum that opens the letter. Seneca encourages Lucilius to pursue the highest good, i.e. virtue, and show a proper disregard for so-called indifferents (e.g. good fortune, political success, a long life, etc). He insists that what is honestum is virtus and what is honestum ought to be the reference point for all of life’s actions. He makes appeals on behalf of virtue, castigates those who indulge in luxury, and argues against opponents of the Stoic position. Seneca sums up the central point of the letter succinctly near its end, writing (Ep. 71.32), This can be conveyed quickly and with very few words (paucissimis verbis): the only good is virtue (unum bonum esse virtutem), certainly nothing is good without virtue, and virtue itself is placed in the better part of ourselves (in parte nostri meliore), that is, the rational part (rationali). Seneca seems at least as interested in recounting philosophical dogma as he is in exploring its consequences on various actions given life’s changing circumstances. Acting in accordance with virtue will mean different things at different times to different people. Seneca offers concrete examples of virtuous behavior and makes heavily rhetorical pleas using varied metaphors, imagery, and analogies in order to convince Lucilius to refer all actions, in all their different contexts, to a single principle. Crucial to Seneca’s thinking about the topic are various part to whole relationships characteristic of Stoic thought, articulated most clearly in his cosmological 221 reflections and use of prosopopoeia. Seneca gives a speech in the voice of an anonymous speaker, likely the magnus animus personified, though he notes that it is comparable to the words that Cato would or did say. The overlap between speakers (Seneca, Cato, and the magnus animus) as well as the relationship between the frame of the speech and its context within the letter analogize the part to whole relationships necessary for ethical understanding. Epistle 71 opens with a paradox. Seneca notes the difficulty of offering advice based on circumstances, since they can always shift between the time Lucilius sends his question and the time he receives Seneca’s response. Seneca qualifies his advice about specific matters (rebus singulis) noting that a vast sea (vasto mari) separates him and Lucilius. He writes (Ep. 71.1) Since a great part of advice depends on the circumstance (magna pars consilii sit in tempore), it necessarily happens that my opinion (sententia mea) about certain matters reaches you (ad te perferatur) by the time that the contrary opinion is already better (cum iam contraria potior est). Indeed advice is suited to particular circumstances (Consilia enim rebus aptantur). Our affairs are carried about, indeed they turn around (volvuntur). Therefore advice ought to be produced on the same day (sub diem); and this is even too late (nimis tardum). It should be produced right at hand (sub manu) as they say. Elsewhere in the letters, Seneca makes similar points about providing advice at a distance 326 : how can he offer advice when so much turns on a moment? The same sententia might be right at one time and wrong at another. Seneca’s underscores his own lack of authority on Lucilius’s affairs. His allusion to the sea that separates them might remind us of Seneca’s own metaphors of seafaring, which he commonly uses to represent the vicissitudes of fortune. If he expects us to have such passages in mind, we might notice a resonance between the instability of Seneca’s advice in relation to Lucilius’s circumstances and the actual voyage of the letter itself over the sea with all the perils that entails. Practical, physical constraints make communication unstable. 326 E.g. Ep. 22.1-2. 222 The problem that he has in offering Lucilius advice applies to his broader readership as well, whose various circumstances he cannot address. Yet Seneca immediately promises to overcome this rather serious problem. He writes that whenever you wish to know what should be avoided or pursued (quid fugiendum… aut quid petendum), look to “the supreme good, the purpose of your whole life” (ad summum bonum, propositum totius vitae tuae, Ep. 71.2). Though Seneca had premised his letter on his own inability to offer advice at a distance, he nonetheless offers advice on how to live the entirety of one’s life. While Seneca offers Lucilius a means of orienting his thought and action rather than concrete advice about particular issues, this frame of reference, the summum bonum, ought to guide the totality of life through all its varied circumstances. In spite of the fact that the epistolary frame highlights the instability of Seneca’s advice, his command applies not only to all of the various circumstances in which Lucilius finds himself and every single one of his decisions, but also all those of his broader readership. Seneca subsumes this universal, Stoic decretum within an epistolary context, which is rife with variability and contingency. The way in which Seneca overcomes the distance separating himself from Lucilius also happens to be the way in which he offers advice to a broader audience, namely through offering universal decreta in the guise of praecepta. 327 Note that Seneca claims that the summum bonum is the goal of the whole of life (totius vitae). Seneca emphasizes the totality in Epistle 71 both in his universalizing philosophical injunctions and in the cosmic viewpoint that the letter later presents, though he always finds 327 There is a substantial literature on the relationship between decreta and praecepta in Senecan prose, especially Ep. 94 and 95. Schafer 2009 is the most recent treatment and contains the necessary bibliography. 223 ways of relating this universal outlook to particular agents and circumstances. He notes (Ep. 71.2), Indeed whatever we do ought to harmonize (consentire) with that goal; one will not set in order each particular thing (disponet singula) unless the supreme goods of his life (vitae suae summa proposita) have already been settled… for that reason we fail, because we all consider the parts of life (de partibus vitae), no one considers the whole (de tota). It is only by looking to the totality of life that it is possible to order each individual piece. Later he notes that there is no need to break the matter into small parts (in particulas illud diducere, Ep. 71.4). He decries other philosophers who split a subject into fragments and rely on word games. 328 Whether by breaking a subject down to its smallest components or by only attending to certain parts of one’s life, the goal of life and philosophy might be overlooked. In various ways, Seneca synthesizes the parts and the whole of the letter, as if tailoring it to the viewpoint he espouses. Throughout the rest of the letter, Seneca takes pains to effectively synthesize part and whole, particular and universal. Seneca himself imitates Socrates, modeling his prescription above. He writes (Ep. 71.7), Socrates, who recalled all of philosophy to morals (qui totam philosophiam revocavit ad mores) and declared that it was the highest wisdom (hanc summam dixit esse sapientiam) to distinguish goods from evils, said (inquit), “Follow them (sequere… illos), if I have any authority in your presence (apud te habeo auctoritatis), in order that you be happy, and allow anyone to think that you are a fool. Whoever wishes, let him reproach and insult you; nevertheless you will suffer nothing, if only virtue is with you. If you wish to be happy,” he said (inquit), “if you wish to be a good man with good faith, let someone despise you.” In the manner of a controversia, Socrates defends an unyielding commitment to virtue even at the expense of a good reputation. This is, to be sure, a borderline case of an extended monologue. Seneca’s inclusion of inquit twice suggests that Socrates might simply be making 328 Erige te, Lucili virorum optime, et relinque istum ludum litterarium philosophorum qui rem magnificentissimam ad syllabas vocant, qui animum minuta docendo demittunt et conterunt: fies similis illis qui invenerunt ista, non qui docent et id agunt ut philosophia potius difficilis quam magna videatur. 224 two statements rather than giving a speech delineated by the quotation marks above. Neither Reynolds, nor Gummere 1920: 76-77, nor Inwood 2007: 26 break up the speech. By the standard punctuation, the addition of inquit is somewhat redundant though it is not without precedent in an extended Senecan sermocinatio. It is much more likely that the first statement ends with videri sine, followed by an interjection from Seneca, followed by another statement from Socrates beginning with Si vis. Inwood 2007: 187 notes a further difficulty: Socrates says follow illos, which Gummere takes to be mores. Inwood asserts that this is impossibly general in its meaning. Following Maltese 1986, Inwood contends that illos must refer to those who discovered those things (qui invenerunt ista), which seems more likely. If that reading is correct, then Socrates essentially ratifies Seneca’s imitation of him in the course of that very imitation. Seneca does follow Socrates, one who discovered moral principles, through composing his very command to follow illos. Seneca does not make note of any interlocutor in Socrates’s address: the second person that Socrates is addressing must be Lucilius. It is almost as if in having Socrates step up and address Lucilius through time, Seneca renders Lucilius’s changing circumstances all the more irrelevant: even a figure long dead can speak to Lucilius’s state of affairs. Two figures across time, offer the same advice. Both hold one another up as exemplars, implicitly or explicitly. Socrates’s dictum and Seneca’s imitation of that dictum reinforce one another through presenting both a principle for behavior and the concrete enactment of that principle at the level of writing. However, Seneca’s imitation of Socrates is the less notable of the two speeches in Epistle 71. After recounting the exempla of Socrates, Cato, Juba, Pompey, and Scipio who all faced military, political, and social setbacks without any real diminishment of their virtue, Seneca turns to more cosmological reflections. He writes (Ep. 71.12), 225 Quidni ille mutationem rei publicae forti et aequo pateretur animo? quid enim mutationis periculo exceptum? non terra, non caelum, non totus hic rerum omnium contextus, quamvis deo agente ducatur. Why would he (Cato) not have endured the change of the republic with a resolute and tranquil mind? What indeed is exempt from the danger of change? Not the land, not the sky, not even the entire fabric of all things, though it is led by a guiding god. Relatively easily, Seneca transitions from historical exempla, who illustrate the steadfastness of virtue, to a view of the universe as a whole. Changes in personal fortune are simply symptoms of an ever-changing universe. Seneca goes on to offer a brief disquisition on Stoic ekpryosis, through which the whole universe will be consumed, even the seemingly immoveable earth and the stars processing in order (Ep. 71.12-13). He then introduces the speech by writing, “And so he will speak as Cato does, when he surveys the passage of time with his mind…” (Itaque ut M. Cato, cum aevum animo percucurrerit, dicet, Ep. 71.15). Inwood 2007: 191 points out that there is some confusion as to the subject of dicet. It could be the wise man, as Gummere translates it (1920: 81). The Budé supposes that God is speaking, although this seems unlikely. The Haase edition proposes the deletion of ut, though Reynolds accepts the text as is. Inwood contends that the subject is most likely the personified human mind, though he points out, “The difference between having this speech given by an idealized human mind and by Cato is minor for Seneca” (2007: 191). Though Inwood’s proposition that the speech is given by an anonymous, “great mind” seems most likely, it is nonetheless characterized as the speech of Cato as well or at the very least the kind of speech Cato would give. In fact, the lack of easy differentiation makes sense in the context of the letter. Seneca conveys a universally valid principle, a decretum, within an epistle, a medium, which magnifies contingency and variability. Practically in the same breath, Seneca had compared Socrates, Cato, 226 Juba, Pompey, and Scipio, all of whom provide more tangible, historically grounded examples of the sage. Ut M. Cato highlights an overlap between speakers. Seneca presents gnomic wisdom in a way that emphasizes an agreement between himself, Cato, and great minds, generally speaking. The multiplicity of authoritative speakers can be read as testifying to the general validity of the speech. Inwood 2007: 192 points out a similarity between the two versions of the afterlife recounted here and those that appear near the end of Plato’s Apology. This resonance only deepens the gnomic nature of the speech: it is as if Seneca gives the words of any magnus animus, though Socrates, Plato, Cato, and Seneca himself serve as historically grounded examples of great minds. The speech shows considerable continuity with its context. Before the magnus animus speaks, Seneca writes (Ep. 71.14), alioqui fortius finem sui suorumque pateretur, si speraret, <ut> omnia illa, sic vitam mortemque per vices ire et composita dissolvi, dissoluta componi, in hoc opere aeternam artem cuncta temperantis dei verti. Otherwise, it (the magnus animus) would more resolutely endure its end and the end of its possessions, if it would have hoped that life and death go through alternations, as all things do, that what has been put together is dissolved and what has been dissolved is put together, and that in this work the eternal craft of a god guiding all things is exercised. The alternative that Seneca introduces here is in response to the limitations of a sluggish mind, which can scarcely penetrate the universe’s more distant regions. The speech of the magnus animus extends Seneca’s own meditations on Stoic cosmology and the fate shared by humankind (Ep. 71.15), “The entire human race (omne humanum genus), whatever is, whatever will be (quodque est quodque erit), is sentenced to death. It will one day be asked of all the cities (omnes… urbes), which are now ruling (potiuntur) anywhere and are great adornments of foreign empires (alienorum imperiorum magna sunt decora), where will they have gone; they will be wiped out by different kinds of ruin (vario exitii genere tollentur). Wars will ruin some, while idleness, peace turned to laziness, and the most pernicious thing common to 227 great wealth, luxury, will devour others. A sudden inundation of the sea will cover all these fertile plains (Omnes hos fertiles campos) or the slipping of the soil will bring them into an unexpected cavern. So why would I be angry or aggrieved, if I precede by a small interval of time a fate common to all (exiguo momento publica fata praecedo)?” Although Seneca had been discussing the cyclic destruction and remaking of the world by the Stoic god, it is hard not to see meaningful metaliterary resonances in Ep. 71.14: the dissolving of the world and its recomposition is reflected in the speech of the magnus animus, which considers the uniform destruction facing all things through which parts lose differentiation from the whole. Seneca’s use of anaphora (omne… omnes… omnes) connects Cato’s fate to the fate of the entirety of the human race as well as all its cities and even the land itself. His mix of tenses emphasizes uniformity between the past, present and future. He notes that posterity will ask (aliquando quaeretur) where the cities have gone, but describes cities’ present state (quae... potiuntur... quaeque sunt decora), as if conflating the perspectives of two different times, almost as if two moments were occurring simultaneously perhaps reflecting his sage-like apprehension of the entire, endlessly repeating cycles of history. The varied means of destruction, be they moral, political, or natural, only serve to underscore the fact that their end is the same. Cato/the sage’s view, which embraces all of humanity, the natural world, and all time, renders practically irrelevant the small spatial-temporal point upon which human individuals live their lives, including Lucilius’s individual circumstances. The scale of the speaker’s point of view puts into context the vacillations of fortune that might otherwise drag someone away from pursuing the summum bonum of life. Seneca presents gnomic wisdom, which emphasizes the uniform fate shared by the cosmos, in a way that fuses his voice, with voice of an anonymous great soul (mens in Ep. 71.14 or magnus animus in Ep. 71.16) and the voice of Cato. The overlap of the voices can be read as paralleling the unity of the world in death, in facing the commune fatum. 228 Perhaps following the speech, Seneca makes explicit the underlying relationship between this speaker’s broader, cosmic perspective and the behavior such a perspective demands. Though Reynolds, Gummere, and Inwood end the quotation with praecedo in the passage above at the end of section 15, there is a good case to be made that the quotation extends as follows (Ep. 71.16): Magnus animus deo pareat et quidquid lex universi iubet sine cunctatione patiatur: aut in meliorem emittitur vitam lucidius tranquilliusque inter divina mansurus aut certe sine ullo futurus incommodo, si naturae remiscebitur et revertetur in totum. Let a great soul obey god and endure without hesitation whatever the law of the universe decrees. It will be sent forth to a better life to remain gloriously and peacefully among the divine or certainly without any trouble, if it intermingles with nature and returns to the whole. There is no sign in the Latin that the quotation ends with praecedo: the themes and material here more likely represent the conclusion of the speech. In the assimilation of multiple voices, the letter too effects a blurring of boundaries between speakers across time. In both the style of presentation and content, Seneca effects the fusion he describes in the manner of the artistry of the Stoic god, as if the letter were carrying out the processes of fusion and dissolution. If we do grant a similarity between Seneca’s artistry in the letter and the designs of the Stoic god, then Cato’s submission to the law of the universe can be read as a comment on Seneca’s use of prosopopoeia: Cato, as a literary fiction, must submit to Seneca’s artistic dictates within the text. Perhaps Seneca would have ideally had his readers recognize the speech of the magnus animus/Cato as his or her own, thereby further eroding distinctions of time and individuality. Seneca then adds, “Therefore (Ergo) an honorable life (honesta vita) is no greater good for Cato than an honorable death (mors honesta), since virtue does not stretch (non intenditur virtus, Ep. 71.16). Ergo seems a likely marker of the resumption of Seneca-qua-Seneca’s 229 narrative voice. The reflection upon Cato’s death is a fitting epilogue or postscript to the speech. At the risk of going to far, Seneca might be conveying the inflexibility of virtue through not altering his voice when he imitates Cato/the magnus animus. Through harmonizing voices, Seneca arguably illustrates the point that virtue does not admit degrees. What lends even further credence to the shift of quotation marks is the reading that results. Seneca elsewhere lends his quotations a strong metatextual flavor. 329 It is likely no coincidence that Seneca ends with a reflection on the soul’s dissolution and return to the cosmic whole as Seneca reverts to his own narratological voice and the body of the text. This is especially fitting in a text, which contemplates the destruction of the world. The text itself suggests the return to the whole it describes. Seneca’s use of prosopopoeia shows that his concerns about the part to whole relationships that structure both life and philosophy extend to the design of his own writing. In having speakers transcend their historical moments to address Lucilius with gnomic wisdom, Seneca highlights the irrelevancy of the didactic problem, which opens the text. Great minds (Seneca included) think alike. In the moments when a Cato or a Socrates speaks, Seneca effaces the vacillations of history, which might cause his readership to lose sight of the summum bonum. Seneca’s imitation of the sage/Cato evokes the unity of the world in death. Seneca’s writing evokes the sage’s apprehension of the cycle of fate, which recurs eternally, in the same present moment in which we encounter the text. Conclusion Although this chapter has focused on the ways in which Seneca dissolves historical distinctions through the speeches of Demaratus, the unnamed Stoic of Ep. 77, Aufidius Bassus, 329 See p. 149. 230 and the magnus animus/Cato in Ep. 71, certainly a number of other speeches might have fit into this chapter. These readings, and those of other chapters, demonstrate that regardless of the different places and times in which the sage-like characters of Senecan prose speak, they do so in ways that evince the same ratio, that faculty most associated with language itself. Speaking across historical epochs to audiences of the past, present, and future, these speeches anticipate the very belateded condition of the modern reader whom Seneca implicitly addresses. At the same time, by presenting speech anachronistically, Seneca’s speeches in persona prevent the reader from forgetting that the only moment available to them is the present, the very moment in which they encounter his texts. 231 Conclusion The pervasion of Seneca’s voice in all the voices he imitates illustrates Seneca’s own particular consistency and, at the same time, the harmony of all great minds throughout history with universal Stoic ratio. By refusing to speak as anyone but himself, Seneca speaks as all sages do. As his reader proceeds through each text and reads the echoes of one voice in another, the literary design of his writings habituates the reader to think like a Stoic, guiding them to perceive the ratio concentrated in all wise people. By dissolving identity, space, and history, Seneca encourages the reader to recognize Seneca’s words and the words of his sage-like personae as his or her own. In light of the Stoic belief that the voice was part of the rational soul and that linguistic faculty evidenced humanity’s unique ability to reason, Seneca’s writing could be said to reach the souls of his reader through the voice. The literary form of Seneca’s prose works is hardly ancillary to his philosophical commitments. His philosophy reveals itself as much through the process of his writings as his explicit propositions. He communicates a worldview not only through the objective content of his explicit claims, but also in the interplay of the voices of his texts. Moreover, these speeches do not just straightforwardly reflect his intellectual commitments; they intervene in how the reader is to assess the precise nature of those commitments. This study has attempted to address the oversight of previous scholarship, which has tended to atomize his explicit claims and perhaps too readily turn outside his texts, typically to those of other Stoics, for their answers. However, as a result of this text-centered approach, two aspects of Senecan personae in particular deserve further consideration, namely the cultural and historical significance of particular personae. The history of certain personae in certain speeches does seem important, even if they nonetheless echo Seneca’s own sentiments from elsewhere in 232 the text. 330 While each of Seneca’s personae reads in many respects as another version of Seneca, nonetheless Seneca does presumably choose different characters for different ends, even if the differences are not what he emphasizes. Although cultural historians have lent Seneca’s works a rich historical, social, and political context, the place of Senecan prose in literary history also deserves further consideration. The persistent performative switches characteristic of his writings seem to be drawn from diatribe, a genre of popular moral philosophy rooted in oral performance, the existence of which has been disputed by some. 331 Like other authors including St. Paul and Epictetus for instance, Seneca switches in and out of roles as a means of providing his audience with moral guidance. In translating this mode of philosophical performance into writing, Seneca loses the distinction between voices that may have been apparent in its oral delivery. However, it is possible that Seneca’s peculiar habit to assume other voices only to speak as himself might have precedents not only in diatribal texts, but also in the actual, historical performances of moral philosophers in Seneca’s Rome. 330 See, for instance, Cato’s speech in De Providentia discussed on pp. 29-33. 331 On the history of diatribe, see Oltramare 1926. Williams in particular has voiced his skepticism about the existence of the genre (2003: 3) and about its applicability to Seneca’s writing (2015: 139-40). 233 Bibliography Abel, K. 1967. Bauformen in Senecas Dialogen. Heidelberg: Carl Winter Universitatsverlag. Algra, K., Barnes, J., Mansfield, J. and Schofield, M. eds. 1999. The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Altman, J. 1982. Epistolarity: Approaches to a Form. Columbus: Ohio State University Press. Armisen-Marchetti, M. 1989. Sapientiae Facies. Étude sur les images de Sénèque. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. —. 1995. “Pourquoi Sénèque n’a-t-il pas écrit l’histoire?” REL 78: 151-67. —. 2006. “Speculum Neronis: une mode spécifique de direction de conscience dans le de clementia de Sénèque.” REL 84: 185-201. Asmis, E. 1990. “Seneca’s ‘On the Happy Life’ and Stoic Individualism.” Apeiron 23(4): 219- 55. Asmis, E., Bartsch, S. and Nussbaum, M. eds. 2014. Lucius Annaeus Seneca: Hardship and Happiness. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Baltussen, H. ed. Greek and Roman Consolations: Eight Studies of a Tradition and its Afterlife. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales. Bardon, H. 1956. La Littérature latine inconnue. Tome II. L’êpoque impériale. Paris: Klincksieck. Bartsch, S. 2009. “Senecan metaphor and Stoic self-instruction,” in Bartsch, S. and Wray, D. eds. Seneca and the Self. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 180-220. Bartsch, S. and Schiesaro, A. eds. 2015. The Cambridge Companion to Seneca. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Basore, J. 1928. Seneca: Moral Essays: Volume I. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. —. 1932. Seneca: Moral Essays: Volume II. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Blondell, R. 2002. The Play of Character in Plato’s Dialogues. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Braund, S. 2009. Seneca, De Clementia: Edited with Translation and Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 234 Buffa Giolito, M. 1997. “Alla conquista della vetta: coordinate retoriche per una rilettura dell’Ep. 84 di Seneca.” Serta antiqua et mediaevalia I: 67-88. Costa, C. 1988. Seneca: 17 Letters. Warminster, PA: Aris and Philips. —. 1994. Seneca: Four Dialogues. Warminster: Aris and Philips Ltd. Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 2014. Brill’s Companion to Seneca: Philosopher and Dramatist. Leiden: Brill. Davies, M. 2010. A Commentary on Seneca’s Epistulae Morales Book IV (Epistles 30-41). University of Auckland. Diss. Degl’Innocenti Pierini, R. 1980. “Echi delle elegie ovidiane dall’esilio nelle Consolationes ad Heluiam e ad Polybium di Seneca.” SIFC 52: 109-43. Diels, H. 1879. Doxographi Graeci. Berlin: G. Reimer. Donini, P. 1988. “The history of the concept of eclecticism,” in Dillon, J. and Long, A. eds. The Question of “Eclecticism”: Studies in Later Greek Philosophy. Berkeley: The University of California Press. 15-34. Edwards, C. 2014. “Ethics V: Death and Time,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 323-342. Engel, D. 2003. “Women’s Role in the Home and the State: Stoic Theory Reconsidered.” HSPh 101: 267-88. Fantham, E. 2004. The Roman World of Cicero’s De Oratore. Oxford: Oxford University Press. —. 2007. “Dialogues of Displacement: Seneca’s Consolations to Helvia and Polybius,” in Gaertner, J. ed. Writing Exile: The Discourse of Displacement in Greco-Roman Antiquity and Beyond. Leiden: Brill. 173-92. Fillion-Lahille, J. 1984. Le «De Ira» de Sénèque et la philosophie stoïcienne des passions. Paris: Ed. Klincksieck. —. 1989. “La production littéraire de Sénèque sous les règnes de Caligula et de Claude, sens philosophique et portée politique: les 'Consolations' et le 'De ira.'” ANRW II 36(3): 1606- 38. Gagliardi, D. 1998. Il tempo in Seneca filosofo. Napoli: D’Auria, M. Gloyn, E. 2014. “Show Me the Way to Go Home: A Reconsideration of Seneca’s De Consolatione Ad Polybium.” AJPh 135(3): 451-80. 235 Graver, M. 2014. “Ethics II: Action and Emotion,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 257-76. Griffin, M. 1976. Seneca: A Philosopher in Politics. Oxford: Clarendon Press. —. 2013. Seneca on Society: A Guide to De Beneficiis. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grimal, P. 1968. “Place et rôle du temps dans la philosophie de Sénèque.” REA: 70: 92-109. Gummere, R. 1920. Seneca: Epistles 66-92. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Hachmann, E. 1995. Die Führung des Lesers in Senecas Epistulae morales. Münster: Aschendorff. Hadot, P. 1995. Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd. Habinek, T. 1982. “Seneca’s Circles: Ep. 12.6-9.” ClAnt 1: 66-69. —. 1998. The Politics of Latin Literature: Writing, Identity, and Empire in Ancient Rome. Princeton: Princeton University Press. —. (forthcoming) 2016. "At the Threshold of Representation: Cremation and Cremated Remains in Classical Latin Literature." CA 35. Hengelbrock, M. 2000. Das Problem des ethischen Fortschritts in Senecas Briefen. Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag. Heusch, C. 2005. “Die Ethopoiie in der griechischen und lateinischen Antike: von der rhetorischen Progymnasma-Theorie zur literarischen Form,” in Amato, E. and Schamp, J. eds. Ethopoiia. La représentation de caractères entre fiction scolaire et réalité vivante à l'époque impériale et tardive. Salerno: Helios Editrice. 11-33. Hijmans, B. 1966. “Drama in Seneca’s Stoicism.” TAPA 97: 237-51. Hine, H. 2013. “Form and Function of Speech in the Prose Works of the Younger Seneca,” in Berry, D. and Erskine, A. eds. Form and Function in Roman Oratory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 208-24. —. 2014. “Consolation to Polybius,” in Asmis, E., Bartsch, S. and Nussbaum, M. eds. 79-104. Inwood, B. 2005. Reading Seneca: Stoic Philosophy at Rome. Oxford: Clarendon Press. —. 2007. Seneca: Selected Philosophical Letters. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 236 Inwood, B. and Donini, P. 1999. “Stoic Ethics,” in Algra, K., Barnes, J., Mansfeld, J. and Schofield, M. eds. 675-738. Ker, J. 2009. The Deaths of Seneca. Oxford: Oxford University Press. —. 2013. “Socrates speaks in Seneca, De Vita Beata 24-28,” in Nightingale, A. and Sedley, D. eds. Ancient Models of Mind: Studies in Human and Divine Rationality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 180-95. —. 2014. “On the Happy Life,” in Asmis, E., Bartsch, S. and Nussbaum, M. eds. 235-73. Knoche, U. 1935. Magnitudo Animi: Untersuchungen zur Entstehung und Entwicklung eines römischen Wertgedankens. Leipzig: Dieterich. Laarmann, M. 2014. “Seneca the Philosopher,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 53-71. Lausberg, H. 1998. Handbook of Literary Rhetoric: A Foundation for Literary Study. Trans. by M. Bliss, A. Jansen, and D. Orton. Leiden: Brill. Lavery, G. 1997. “Never Seen in Public: Seneca and the Limits of Cosmopolitanism.” Latomus 56: 3-13. Lévy, C. 2003. “Sénèque et la circularité du temps,” in Bakhouche, B. ed. Ancienneté chez les anciens: Tome 2. Montpellier: Université Paul-Valéry Montpellier III. 491-509. Long, A. 1999. “Stoic Psychology,” in Algra, K., Barnes, J., Mansfeld, J., and Schofield, M. eds. 560-84. Long, A., and Sedley, D. 1987. The Hellenistic Philosophers: Volume 1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Knoche, U. 1935. Magnitudo Animi: Untersuchungen zur Entstehung und Entwicklung eines römischen Wertgedankens. Leipzig: Dieterich. Maltese, E. 1986. “Socrate e Seneca (ep. 71, 6-7).” SIFC 79: 77-79. Mankin, D. 2011. ed. Cicero: De Oratore Book III. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Manning, C. 1974. “The Consolatory Tradition and Seneca’s Attitude to the Emotions.” G&R 21: 71-81. —. 1981. On Seneca’s “Ad Marciam.” Leiden: Brill. Marshall, C. 2014. “The Works of Seneca the Younger and Their Dates,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 33-44. 237 Maurach, G. 1970. Der Bau von Senecas Epistulae morales. Heidelberg: Carl Winter. McElduff, S. 2013. Roman Theories of Translation: Surpassing the Source. New York: Routledge. Merino Codoñer, C. 1983. “El adversario ficticio en Séneca.” Helmantica 34: 131-48. Moreau, J. 1969. “Sénèque et le prix du temps.” BAGB 1: 119-24. Motto, A. 1985. Seneca: Moral Epistles. Chico: Scholars Press. Mutschler, F. 2014. “De Vita Beata,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 141-46. Nussbaum, M. 1994. The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Oltramare, A. 1926. Les origines de la diatribe romaine. Lausanne: Payot. Roller, M. 2015. “The Dialogue in Seneca’s Dialogues (and Other Moral Essays),” in Bartsch, S. and Schiesaro, A. eds. 54-67. Rudich, V. 1993. Political Dissidence Under Nero: The Price of Dissimulation. New York: Routledge. Sauer, J. 2014a. “Consolatio ad Marciam,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 135-39. —. 2014b. “Consolatio ad Helviam,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 171-73. Schafer, J. 2009. Ars Didactica: Seneca’s 94th and 95th Letters. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Schofield, M. 1991. The Stoic Idea of the City. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Scourfield, J. 2013. “Towards a Genre of Consolation,” in H. Baltussen ed. 1-36. Sellars, J. 2003. The Art of Living: The Stoics on the Nature and Function of Philosophy. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing Ltd. —. 2014. “Context: Seneca’s Philosophical Predecessors and Contemporaries,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 97-112. Setaioli, A. 2000. Facundus Seneca. Aspetti della lingua e dell’ideologia senecana. Bologna: Pàtron. 238 —. 2007. “Seneca and the Divine: Stoic Tradition and Personal Developments.” IJCT 13(3): 333-68. —. 2014. “Physics III: Theology,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 379-401 Shelton, J. 1995. “Persuasion and Paradigm in Seneca’s Consolatio ad Marciam: 1-6.” C&M 46: 157-88. Short, W. 2013. “Getting to the Truth: The ‘Wandering’ Metaphor of Mistakenness in Roman Culture.” Arion 21(2): 139-68. Smith, 2014. “De providentia,” in Damschen, G. and Heil, A. eds. 114-20. Struck, P. 2004. Birth of the Symbol: Ancient Readers at the Limits of Their Texts. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Summers, W. 1926. Select Letters of Seneca. London: Macmillan & Co. Ltd. Traina, A. 1989. Lo stile « drammatico » del filosofo Seneca. Bologna: Pàtron. Usher, M. 2006. A Student’s Seneca: Ten Letters and Selections from De providentia and De vita beata. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Viparelli, V. 2000. Il senso e il non senso del tempo in Seneca. Naples: Loffredo. Vogt, K. 2008. Law, Reason, and the Cosmic City. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Volk, K. 2002. The Poetics of Latin Didactic: Lucretius, Vergil, Ovid, Manilius. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Volk, K. and Williams, G. eds. 2006. Seeing Seneca Whole: Perspectives on Philosophy, Poetry and Politics. Leiden: Brill. Von Albrecht, M. 2000. “Sulla lingua e lo stile di Seneca,” in Parroni, P. ed. Seneca e il suo tempo: atti del convegno internazionale di Roma-Cassino, 11-14 novembre 1998. Rome: Salerno. 227-47. Webb, R. 2009. Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Practice. Farnham, England/Burlington, VT: Ashgate. Wilcox, A. 2006. “Exemplary Grief: Gender and Virtue in Seneca’s Consolations to Women.” Helios 33: 73-100. —. 2012. The Gift of Correspondence in Classical Rome: Friendship in Cicero’s Ad Familiares and Seneca’s Moral Epistles. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 239 Wildberger, J. 2006a. Seneca und die Stoa: Der Platz des Menschen in der Welt. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. —. 2006b. “Seneca and the Stoic Theory of Cognition: Some Preliminary Remarks,” in Volk, K. and Williams, G. eds. 75-102. Wilkins, E. 1917. “Know Thyself” in Greek and Latin Literature. Diss. The University of Chicago. Williams, G. 2003. Seneca: De otio; De brevitate vitae. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 2006. “States of Exile, States of Mind: Paradox and Reversal in Seneca’s Consolatio ad Heluiam Matrem,” in Volk, K. and Williams, G. eds. 147-74. —. 2012. The Cosmic Viewpoint. Oxford: Oxford University Press. —. 2015. “Style and Form in Seneca’s Writing,” in Bartsch, S. and Schiesaro, A. eds. 135-49. Wilson, M. 2013. “Seneca the Consoler? A New Reading of his Consolatory Writings,” in Baltussen, H. ed. 93-122. Winterbottom, M. 1984. ed. The Minor Declamations Ascribed to Quintilian. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Yegül, F. 1992. Baths and Bathing in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press.
Abstract (if available)
Abstract
This dissertation is a series of close readings of the extended monologues that Seneca the Younger writes in the voices of other personae in his philosophical prose. Although Seneca is famous for being among the most versatile writers of antiquity, the speeches that he writes in the voices of other personae are so similar to what he writes in his own authorial voice that they often echo one another or dissolve together on account of the absence of quotation marks in ancient Latin. This study argues that Seneca’s monologues in persona communicate Seneca’s own moral consistency, i.e. virtue, by implying that he cannot help but to speak as himself no matter which voice he assumes. At the same time, Seneca’s speeches in the voices of other personae illustrate the harmony of great minds throughout time and space with the divine universal ratio that structures, guides, and pervades the Stoic cosmos. ❧ The introduction highlights the distinctiveness of Seneca’s speeches in persona in light of his notorious versatility, as well as the norms prescribed by the rhetorical handbooks, which held that orators ought to vary their speech according the identity of those they imitate, and the conventions of other philosophers who commonly use other personae in their dialogues to express views other than their own. Turning to Seneca’s own words, I argue that his speeches in persona reflect both his internal consistency and the consistency of great minds with universal reason. Further, I argue that Seneca encourages his readers to recognize both his words and the words of his various personae as their own based on their own harmony with universal Stoic ratio. ❧ I pursue this argument through five chapters focusing on key themes widely regarded as central to Senecan philosophy in order to demonstrate the degree to which Seneca’s use of other voices illustrates his philosophical position and worldview in the literary design of his texts. The first chapter argues that even when Seneca advocates for logically contradictory attitudes regarding wealth in his own and others’ voices, he does so in ways that illustrate his and his speakers’ harmony with divine ratio. The second chapter demonstrates that Seneca is less concerned with presenting the Stoic theory of cognition systematically and in all its particulars than in illustrating the process of cognition through the literary form of his texts, specifically his use of others’ voices. The third chapter argues that the congruence of voices in De Clementia and the Natural Questions guide Seneca’s addressees towards a recognition of the pan-immanence of the Stoic soul, which is suffused throughout nature. The fourth chapter contends that Seneca departs from the norms of consolation as a genre through the fluid relationship between author, speaker, and addressee in the consolatory works. The fifth chapter demonstrates how Seneca’s anachronistic presentation of speech dissolves historical distinctions based on his and his speakers’ harmony with Stoic ratio while reminding the reader that, in a certain sense, they speak at the same moment when his audience reads his texts, namely the present. A short summary conclusion gesturing towards directions of future research follows.
Linked assets
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
Conceptually similar
PDF
The vanishing dead body and the rising lyric persona in early modern east Slavic poetry
PDF
The vulnerable corpus of Propertius
PDF
Ex angulis secretisque librorum: reading, writing, and using miscellaneous knowledge in the Noctes Atticae
PDF
Cicero's Academica and the foundation of a Roman academy
PDF
"ipsum principem cernere in publico": the visibility of the Roman emperor from 27BCE to 40CE
PDF
The mind of the slave: the limits of knowledge and power in Roman law and society
PDF
Intercorporeality: toward a new history of Roman emotion
PDF
The end of Augustan literature: Ovid's Epistulae ex Ponto IV
PDF
Anger matters: politics and theology in the fourth century CE
PDF
Cultural practice, ideology and irony in Tacitus' Claudian Annals
PDF
From Demeter to Dionysos: laughter as a vehicle for transformation in archaic cult ritual and Attic Old Comedy
PDF
Prosody and informativity: a cross-linguistic investigation
PDF
Vietnamese pronouns in discourse
PDF
Signs of skilled adaptation in the co-speech ticking of adults with Tourette's
PDF
Martial's monumental Epigrams: the semiotics of Martial's poetry on the urban landscape of Flavian Rome
PDF
Individual differences in phonetic variability and phonological representation
PDF
Constraining assertion: an account of context-sensitivity
PDF
Vision in Theocritus: perception, performance, poetics
PDF
Rhetorical strategies in contemporary responses to science and modernity: legitimizing religion in human origins and climate change controversies
PDF
Bright portals: illness & the environment in contemporary poetry
Asset Metadata
Creator
Lepisto, Scott A.
(author)
Core Title
Scripted voices: persona and speech in Senecan philosophy
School
College of Letters, Arts and Sciences
Degree
Doctor of Philosophy
Degree Program
Classics
Publication Date
07/08/2017
Defense Date
05/24/2016
Publisher
University of Southern California
(original),
University of Southern California. Libraries
(digital)
Tag
ancient philosophy,dialogues,Latin literature,Lucius Annaeus Seneca,Moral epistles,OAI-PMH Harvest,persona,prosopopoeia,Seneca the Younger,Stoicism
Format
application/pdf
(imt)
Language
English
Contributor
Electronically uploaded by the author
(provenance)
Advisor
Habinek, Thomas (
committee chair
), Albertson, David (
committee member
), Boyle, Anthony J. (
committee member
)
Creator Email
lepisto@usc.edu,scott.lepisto@gmail.com
Permanent Link (DOI)
https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c40-262889
Unique identifier
UC11280489
Identifier
etd-LepistoSco-4517.pdf (filename),usctheses-c40-262889 (legacy record id)
Legacy Identifier
etd-LepistoSco-4517.pdf
Dmrecord
262889
Document Type
Dissertation
Format
application/pdf (imt)
Rights
Lepisto, Scott A.
Type
texts
Source
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Access Conditions
The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...
Repository Name
University of Southern California Digital Library
Repository Location
USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA
Tags
ancient philosophy
dialogues
Latin literature
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Moral epistles
persona
prosopopoeia
Seneca the Younger
Stoicism