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Liz Gloyn
American Journal of Philology, Volume 135, Number 3 (Whole Number
539), Fall 2014, pp. 451-480 (Article)
3XEOLVKHGE\7KH-RKQV+RSNLQV8QLYHUVLW\3UHVV
DOI: 10.1353/ajp.2014.0032
For additional information about this article
http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/ajp/summary/v135/135.3.gloyn.html
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SHOW ME THE WAY TO GO HOME:
A RECONSIDERATION OF SENECA’S
DE CONSOLATIONE AD POLYBIUM
Liz Gloyn
u
Abstract. Seneca’s De Consolatione ad Polybium is firmly grounded in an underappreciated Stoic theoretical framework. Writing from exile on Corsica, Seneca
deliberately uses Stoic language as one of many complex interweaving strategies to offer consolation to the imperial freedman Polybius on the death of his
brother, specifically through the text’s portrait of the emperor Claudius. Instead
of demonstrating or undermining Seneca’s sincerity, the ad Polybium offers us an
insight into the strategies an elite writer might use to engage with the emperor
and the power politics behind their relationship.
A challenging intersection of conflicting demands dominates Seneca’s De Consolatione ad Polybium.1 Polybius was a freedman
of the emperor Claudius, in charge of managing petitions to the emperor.
On the one hand, the text is explicitly designed to console him after
the death of one of his brothers.2 On the other hand, Seneca includes
lengthy praise of Claudius, who was responsible for his exile and would
eventually become the target of the Apocolocyntosis.3 The collision of
1
The De Consolatione ad Polybium was written during the period of Seneca’s exile,
between 41 c.e. and 49 c.e.; the reference at ad Polybium 13.2 asking Claudius to pacify
Germany, open up Britain, and lead both his father’s triumphs and new ones suggests that
it may have been closer to 43 c.e., when Claudius conquered Britain, or 44 c.e., when he
celebrated his triumph. For possible reasons for Seneca’s exile, see Griffin 1992, 59–63,
and Claassen 1999, 62–64.
2
The fact that the addressee is an imperial freedman active in Claudius’ administration may also have coloured scholarly attitudes towards the ad Polybium, given the negative
view of freedmen that such authors as Tacitus and Juvenal communicate to us (Fantham
2007, 186). Indeed, the text caused such discomfort that there was a period where scholars
argued that it was not by Seneca at all, as Diderot did in 1778. Romano 1986–1987 argues
that Seneca consciously lied in the ad Polybium in order to gain his recall, but used the
Apocolocyntosis to redeem himself. An alternative approach, exemplified by Alexander
1943, is to read the ad Polybium as a satire.
3
Rudich 1987 considers the connection between the ad Polybium and the Apocolocyntosis in more depth; Griffin interprets it as a deliberate parody of the ad P
­ olybium’s
American Journal of Philology 135 (2014) 451–480 © 2014 by Johns Hopkins University Press
452
Liz Gloyn
consolation, panegyric, and politics has left the text battered, and its
motives and sincerity have been questioned—as Griffin puts it, “no one
would maintain that the Consolation to Polybius was designed solely to
cheer up Polybius” (1992, 20–21). Yet the text demonstrates argumentative
coherence and sustains harmony between the various positions it adopts.4
This coherence is facilitated by Seneca’s use of Stoicism, which
makes certain aspects of Seneca’s argument more nuanced for a Stoic
reader. This kind of literature uses what Inwood has called a “two-level
mode of discourse” (2005, 90), where the writing operates on both a
philosophical and “everyday” level. Such an approach has particular
value in a work that seeks to exhort and persuade, as the ad Polybium
does; not only can Seneca operate within the recognisable hierarchy of
imperial power, but he also strengthens his argument through the deployment of Stoic theory. As part of this stratagem, Seneca uses the Stoic
idea of the sage, the person who has achieved perfect virtue.5 It does
not matter that Polybius as addressee and Seneca himself as author are
not yet sages. Seneca’s use of the sage as a marker of virtue means that
both men can “act in the light of an awareness of the existence of that
[moral] level” despite not having reached ethical perfection themselves
(Inwood 2005, 91).
Reading the ad Polybium as a deliberately multifaceted text explains
some of its puzzling elements which have previously been read only in
terms of flattery, and helps us to acknowledge the importance of Stoicism
to its overall consolatory strategy. It also highlights the “generic abundance
and flexibility” which is a crucial part of Seneca’s overall authorial identity
(Ker 2006, 21). The fusion of panegyric, consolation and philosophy allows
Seneca to deploy Stoicism in the ad Polybium for two purposes. First, he
flattery (1992, 133). The Apocolocyntosis itself has generated considerable recent scholarship:
Damon 2010 examines the generic tensions in the poem between poetry and historiography;
Osgood 2007 explores Seneca’s depiction of Claudius’ speech in dialogue with the idea
of the ideal emperor; Robinson 2005 approaches the poem’s use of satirical double-speak
through the text’s temporal imagery; Braund and James 1998 analyses the ethical and
political significance of Claudius’ body as grotesque.
4
Earlier scholars have not fully examined the text’s synthesis of genres, although
Ker’s discussion briefly notes it (2009, 101–2). Fantham’s recent 2007 examination aimed
to situate the ad Polybium, along with the De Consolatione ad Helviam, in the broader
context of exile literature. The most recent commentary on the text is Kurth 1994; the most
recent Anglophone commentary is Duff 1915.
5
The Stoics believe that the sage is the only human who truly achieves virtue, and
thus happiness, through acting in accordance with reason; everyone else is a proficiens or
someone approaching virtue. However, sages were as rare as the phoenix (Alexander, De
Fato 196.24–197.3, Long and Sedley 61N), so Stoic moral texts address the proficientes
rather than the sages. For more on the Stoic wise man, see Long and Sedley 1987, 59, 66.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
453
deliberately uses Stoic language to offer consolation to Polybius, specifically through the portrait of Claudius that he constructs. This approach
helps him to explain to Polybius why mourning his brother is neither just
nor appropriate.6 Second, by exploiting the framework he has constructed
for consolatory purposes, Seneca creates a philosophical bond between
himself and Polybius; he thus strengthens the implicit case he makes
throughout the consolation for his recall. Appreciating Seneca’s blending
of genre helps us to reintegrate the ad Polybium into the wider study of
his work and to consider the text’s neglected philosophical implications.
It also enables us to appreciate the political significance of the piece
and to consider how it affects our view of Seneca’s later political career.
PUTTING THE AD POLYBIUM IN CONTEXT
Our surviving manuscripts of the ad Polybium have lost the introductory
portion of the text.7 Nevertheless, Seneca’s wider corpus points to his
likely intentions for the work. The consolation was probably written for
publication, similar to the consolations to Marcia and Helvia.8 Like those
works, the ad Polybium presents itself as a consolatio, and thus meets
certain expectations of the genre.9 As Degl’Innocenti Pierini notes in her
discussion of ad Polybium 6–7, the text must be viewed not solely as a
price paid to gain recall but also as testimony of Seneca’s desire to adapt
the consolatory theme to the character of the recipient (1990, 220–21).
Besides stock formal characteristics, the ad Polybium contains
specifically Stoic adaptation of these conventions to further its author’s
literary and philosophical aims.10 While he does not offer explicit doctrinal directives, he structures the content of the text on embedded
For more on general Stoic strategies for managing grief, see Graver 2007, 196–98.
Kurth 1994, 24–25, offers some possibilities for what the missing preface may have
contained.
8
For a summary of the issues surrounding whether the text was meant as a purely
private communication to Polybius with no view to publication, or whether Seneca composed it with a larger readership in mind, see Atkinson 1985, 865–66.
9
Many of the same generic tropes are found in the consolatory letters of Cicero,
analysed by Hutchinson 1998, 49–77; Claassen 1999, 19–24; and Wilcox 2005a. Kassel 1958,
35–36, considers what we can conclude about the content of this text from the surviving
evidence. While certain consolatory arguments may have arisen from specific philosophical
schools, by Seneca’s time they all seem to have been treated as rhetorical tropes expected
to appear in the literature without any particular philosophical significance (Manning
1981, 13–14).
10
Kassel 1958, 17, recognised that the specifically Stoic consolation involved the
overlap of the doctrine of indifferents with the doctrine of the passions, but did not address
the other aspects of Stoic philosophy that a writer might deploy.
6
7
454
Liz Gloyn
Stoic assumptions and refers to Stoic doctrines that do not form part of
the repertoire of consolatory tropes. For instance, the reference to the
eventual complete destruction of the world alludes to the Stoic theory of
conflagration (1.2–3).11 The doctrine of indifferents, which advises that we
should not place excess importance on things that are not virtue, provides
support for his explanation of why people who become too attached to
the loans of nature create unnecessary pain for themselves when nature
demands her loan back (10.1–6).12 The text also frequently emphasises
what Nature has ordained, which corresponds with the Stoic argument
that virtuous behaviour was in accordance with nature (kata phusin or
secundum naturam).13
The ad Polybium also participates in the genre of exile literature,
broadly defined;14 that is, it was written by Seneca while he was in exile
and addresses (however indirectly) the issue of his exile. Moreover, Seneca partakes in an interesting shift of genre expectations. It would have
been more conventional for him to receive a consolation on his own
exile than for him to write a consolation from exile for a grieving man.15
He similarly alters genre expectations in the other work written during
this period, the De Consolatione ad Helviam, in which he acknowledges
how strange it is that he, the exile, should write to comfort his mother
(1.2–3). His use of generic flexibility makes reading the ad Polybium a
more complex task.16 The reader is asked to ignore Seneca’s own need
for consolation and to consider instead Polybius’ misfortune and Seneca’s
remedies. The semantic slippage from exile to death within the ad Polybium is not culturally unprecedented: “because exile frequently served as
pre-emption of or substitute for the death penalty, it was often portrayed
in literature as the virtual equivalent of death” (Claassen 1996, 571). This
close connection adds to the permeability of the text, since it gives Seneca
the space to move from the explicit topic of Polybius’ brother’s death
to indirectly address the question of his own exile, a sort of living death.
11
For primary sources on the conflagration, see Long and Sedley 1987, 46. Abel
1967, 76–77, briefly discusses the place of ekpyrosis in the structure of the ad Polybium.
Degl’Innocenti Pierini 1999 explores how the ad Polybium deals with the theme of the
interitus mundi in more detail.
12
For primary sources on indifferents, see Long and Sedley1987, 58; Schofield 2003,
239–46.
13
Schofield 2003, 239–46, explores the idea of kata phusin in greater detail.
14
For problems with the term “exile literature,” see Gaertner 2007b.
15
Claassen 1999, 22, offers a tentative reconstruction of the elements that a consolation to an exile might have been expected to contain.
16
Hutchinson notes a similar textual complexity in Cicero’s exilic letters, where “the
relations of emotion, persuasion, art, and the self are elaborate and entangled” (1998, 48).
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
455
POLYBIUS AS A STOIC READER
Considering Polybius’ portrayal helps us to unlock some of this consolation’s mysteries. Seneca’s description of him foregrounds his learning and
intellectual curiosity. In a lament at the start of the text, Seneca lists all
the possible sufferings Fortune could have inflicted on Polybius, only to
rebuff them as ineffectual through an argument based on the doctrine
of indifferents. For instance, loss of money would have meant nothing as
Polybius is not attached to it; he would have replaced lost friends because
of his genial personality; and his good reputation is too well grounded to
be shaken (2.3–4). In this list, Seneca refers to Polybius’ learning twice.
First, had Polybius lost his health, his grounding in liberal studies, “in
which he was not just nourished but actually born” (liberalibus disciplinis,
quibus non innutritus tantum sed innatus est, 2.5), would have raised his
mind above the pains of the body.17 Second, Polybius’ own death would
not have been a cause of suffering, because his literary merits would have
preserved his memory (2.6):18
Longissimum illi ingeni aevum fama promisit; id egit ipse ut meliore sui
parte duraret et compositis eloquentiae praeclaris operibus a mortalitate
se vindicaret. Quam diu fuerit ullus litteris honor, quam diu steterit aut
Latinae linguae potentia aut Graecae gratia, vigebit cum maximis viris
quorum se ingeniis vel contulit vel, si hoc verecundia eius recusat, adplicuit.
Fame promised a most long age to his genius; he himself made it so that
he would survive in the better part of himself, and that he would deliver
himself from mortality by composing outstanding works of elegance. So
long as there is any honour in literature, so long as the Latin language
remains powerful or Greek remains graceful, he will live on with the most
distinguished men, with whose abilities either he has matched himself or,
if his modesty denies this, to which he has devoted himself.
Seneca first advises that Polybius should return to books in general for
comfort (tuae litterae, 8.2), then specifically names Homer and Vergil. He
shies away from proposing that Polybius try to translate Aesop into Latin
(8.3) but suggests that when Polybius feels able to do so it will be a sign
of his recovery.19 So far, it appears that the studies Seneca envisages here
17
Presumably, this immersion in literature applies to all Polybius’ brothers, as Seneca refers to their shared sincere and secure love of literature (sincerus et tutus litterarum
amor, 3.5).
18
All translations are my own. The text follows Reynolds’ 1977 OCT edition.
19
Kurth 1994, 100–104 puts Polybius’ translation activities into their wider cultural
context.
456
Liz Gloyn
are purely literary, marking the distinction between intellectual endeavour
designed to amuse and to comfort (Claassen 1999, 103). Seneca can also
select philosophy as a consolation for his addressee from the library of
consolatory tropes available to him. He had a precedent in Cicero, who
took refuge in composing the Tusculanae Disputationes as a philosophical
meditation on death and loss following the death of his daughter Tullia;
he also suggested philosophy as a support in grief in letters to P. Nigidius
Figulus (Fam. 4.13) and Titius (Fam. 5.16) among others.20
Given his own grounding in Stoic theory, it would be natural for
Seneca to suggest recourse specifically to Stoicism as the most effective
therapy. Seneca’s presentation of Stoically influenced language suggests
that Polybius will be sufficiently open to Stoic theory that it will be rhetorically effective, both as a means of consolation and to make his case for
recall.21 To this end, Seneca uses Polybius’ literary achievements to point
him towards the potential for further ethical development, particularly
by expanding the range of his addressee’s erudition to include a Stoic
element. He does this by careful deployment of the word perfectus when
he describes Polybius’ obligation to the readers of his compositions (6.3):
Omnes illi qui opera ingenii tui laudant, qui describunt, quibus, cum fortuna
tua opus non sit, ingenio opus est, custodes animi tui sunt. Nihil umquam
ita potes indignum facere perfecti et eruditi viri professione ut non multos
admirationis de te suae paeniteat.
All those who praise the works of your talent, who copy them out, for
whom, although there is no need of your fortune, there is need of your
talent—they are the guardians of your mind. In this way you are never able
to do anything unworthy of the calling of a perfectus and learned man, so
that many do not regret their admiration for you.
Any reader would understand the surface meaning of perfectus as “accomplished,” which complements eruditus. A reader attuned to Stoicism,
however, would recognise that perfectus is a term of art in Stoic writing,
20
Baltussen 2009 analyses the evidence for Cicero’s early grief recorded in his letters and his strategies for coping with the death of Tullia. Wilcox 2005a considers the role
of the consolatory letters within the wider Ciceronian corpus of correspondence; Wilcox
2005b more specifically considers how Cicero represents himself in his grief in Fam. 4.6.
21
This is not to say that the consolation does not function in layers: some readers
will have access to all the philosophical content, some readers will access some of it, and
some readers will access none of it but will benefit from the more general subject matter.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
457
used to refer to the Stoic wise man.22 Eruditus, too, has philosophical
undertones; for instance, in praising a young man’s grasp of philosophical
topics, Pliny refers to him as eruditus et sapiens (5.16.8).23
Seneca here participates in a strong Stoic tradition of manipulating the multivalence of language, which is a frequent feature of his
philosophical writing.24 Common words such as malum and bonum offer
two possible interpretations—that of the Stoic ethical system and the
traditional Roman ethical system. By using such words, Seneca urges his
reader to consciously consider which type of language and which ethical
system is in play, thus placing the two different systems in productive
conflict. Ad Polybium 9.1 provides an excellent example; Seneca says
that “nothing is less fitting for a good man than to calculate in his sorrow for a brother” (nihil autem minus bono viro convenit quam in fratris
luctu calculos ponere). This use of “good man” or bonus vir plays with
the conventional understanding of good; it can be interpreted to mean a
good man as defined by contemporary Roman society, or to refer to the
sage, to whose perfect reason both Polybius and Seneca aspire.
Similarly, ad Polybium 2.4 asks what harm nature would do if she
took away Polybius’ friends (eriperes illi amicos?). Kurth argues that this
should be read as a reference to the wider social institution of amicitia
and patronage; he explicitly rejects the possibility that Seneca refers to
a narrow Stoic definition of friendship (1994, 44). By contrast, I would
argue that the text offers both meanings to the Stoically aware reader,
deliberately emphasising the interface between conventional and Stoic
values.25 In ad Polybium 6.3’s use of perfectus, then, the praise of Polybius
not only acknowledges his achievements in scholarship, but also gently
exhorts him to align himself with Stoicism further. Through continually
juxtaposing “everyday” and “philosophical” semantics throughout the
22
Seneca elsewhere uses the phrase perfectus ac sapiens to contrast the sage with
the passable man (tolerabilis homo, Ep. Mor. 83.17). Similarly, at the end of the extant
Epistulae Morales, Seneca gives Lucilius a short rule by which to measure whether he has
become perfectus (qua perfectum esse iam sentias, Ep. Mor. 124.24).
23
The exact phrase is altiora studia, which Tacitus uses to describe the Stoic pursuits
of Helvidius Priscus (Hist. 4.5.1). Seneca elsewhere uses eruditus to refer to educated men
who can avoid most irrational passions but who remain susceptible to anger (etiam eruditis
hominibus et in alia sanis, De Ira 3.4.5).
24
Seneca’s own use of conventional meanings for words as the starting point for
further discussion is explored by Roller 2001, 73–87.
25
Kurth also fails to comment on the phrase perfecti et eruditi viri as indicating anything other than Polybius’ literary and rhetorical-linguistic abilities (1994, 84).
458
Liz Gloyn
consolation, Seneca maintains “contact with the common conceptions
that Stoic ethics seeks to appropriate, or ground, or modify, or supplant”
(Roller 2001, 77) and balances advancing his philosophical agenda with
speaking to the widest possible readership.26
At the close of the consolation, Seneca recommends that Polybius
return to his accustomed academic pursuits (18.1):
Tibi vero nihil ex consuetudine mutandum est tua, quoniam quidem ea
instituisti amare studia quae et optime felicitatem extollunt et facillime minuunt calamitatem eademque et ornamenta maxima homini sunt et solacia.
Nunc itaque te studiis tuis inmerge altius, nunc illa tibi velut munimenta
animi circumda, ne ex ulla tui parte inveniat introitum dolor.
Indeed, nothing must be changed from your usual habits, since indeed you
set out to love those studies which both excellently raise happiness and
most easily lessen misfortune, and are the greatest ornament and comfort
to a man. And so now plunge yourself more deeply into your studies, now
surround yourself as if with those fortifications of the mind, lest grief should
find an entrance from any part of you.
The suggestion that Polybius’ studia will provide fortifications for the
mind echoes a passage in De Consolatione ad Helviam, where Seneca
explicitly advises his mother Helvia to turn to philosophy in order to
alleviate her sorrow about his exile (Helv. 17.3):27
Itaque illo te duco quo omnibus qui fortunam fugiunt confugiendum est,
ad liberalia studia.
And so I lead you to that place where all those who flee fortune find
refuge—to liberal studies.
Seneca’s description of his father’s regrettable objection to Helvia’s study
makes it clear that these liberalia studia were specifically philosophical
26
Inwood 2005, 65–94, explores Seneca’s use of a “two-level mode of discourse” (90)
in terms of the words “fool” and “sage,” demonstrating that the everyday level of meaning
conforms with traditional morality while the paradoxical or theoretical level points to the
higher technical planes of Stoic doctrine.
27
The ad Helviam was probably composed before the ad Polybium but after Seneca
had spent some time in exile; see Griffin 1992, 396–98. There are no recent book-length
treatments of the ad Helviam, although it has received some scholarly attention. For instance,
Ferrill 1966 argues that the ad Helviam functioned as a subtle plea for recall, despite its
supposed consolatory purpose.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
459
in nature.28 He also promises her the same benefits that he promises
Polybius, namely, that philosophical studies will console her, please her,
and keep grief and worry from her (17.5).
Throughout the opening of the consolation, Polybius is constructed
as a reader who is sympathetic and receptive to Stoicism, thus allowing
Seneca to use his philosophical convictions as a rhetorical resource.
Adopting a two-level mode of discourse gives Seneca the tools he needs
to interpolate Stoic ideas into the text without disrupting its surface
flow, whilst retaining the power of those ideas to appeal and persuade.
These concepts provide the groundwork for approaching the consolation’s depiction of the emperor Claudius, whose person provides the
strongest example of interweaving the philosophical, the consolatory,
and the panegyric.
CLAUDIUS AS REASON
A significant part of the consolatory argument that Seneca presents to
Polybius is given over to his portrait of the emperor Claudius. Writers of
imperial praise always struggled with problems of credibility, sincerity, and
appropriate subject matter. Pliny’s Panegyricus, for example, demonstrates
an “obsession with the techniques of sincerity” whilst witnessing to “a
widespread consciousness that the time when sincerity was possible is
itself a lost feature of the more distant past” (Bartsch 1994, 149). While
Seneca is not trying to navigate the complicated post-Domitian political
landscape, he still must negotiate a delicate balance between praise and
28
“Even if you had not been accustomed to them, now there would be a use for
them; but as much as the traditional severity of my father allowed you, you did not firmly
grasp all the good arts, although you touched upon them. Would that that best of men,
my father, had given himself over less to the custom of his ancestors and had wanted you
properly instructed in the precepts of wisdom rather than just dipped in them!” (his etiam si
numquam adsuesses, nunc utendum erat; sed quantum tibi patris mei antiquus rigor permisit,
omnes bonas artes non quidem comprendisti, attigisti tamen. Utinam quidem virorum optimus,
pater meus, minus maiorum consuetudini deditus voluisset te praeceptis sapientiae erudiri
potius quam inbui!, 17.3–4). For more on the balance between leisure and literary activity,
see Motto 1993. Ep. Mor. 88 offers Seneca’s view on liberalia studia and their relationship
to wisdom, arguing that their value lies in the preparation of the soul for virtue rather
than the communication of virtue itself. Stückelberger 1965, 71–79, explores the place of
this letter in Seneca’s wider corpus, including the depiction of the liberalia studia in the
ad Polybium and ad Helviam, noting that these texts adopt a more positive approach to
studia than Ep. Mor. 88.
460
Liz Gloyn
sycophancy.29 To that end, he interweaves his praise imagery with Stoic
concepts which temper his admiration.
Claudius’ presence in the consolation becomes more prominent as
the text progresses. The mentions of him at the beginning of the work
focus on Polybius’ relationship with Claudius as his freedman a libellis.30
Claudius, however, takes centre stage for two substantial passages of the
text which have created particular controversy, since they participate
heavily in the conventions of panegyric literature.31 The first (7.1–4)
begins as a recommendation that Polybius should contemplate Caesar as
a remedy for his grief, but swiftly expands into a prolonged encomium of
Caesar’s many excellent qualities and the gratitude the world owes him
for protecting it. The second passage (12.3–14.2) returns to this theme of
Caesar as a consolation in himself and offers lengthy eulogistic praise for
his noble character and achievements. It begs Fortune to look kindly upon
him, praises his mercy which extends even to the hidden corner of the
world in which Seneca finds himself, and presents him as the consolation
of all men (publicum omnium hominum solacium, 14.1). This substantial
digression introduces a speech that Seneca puts into Claudius’ mouth,
outlining the various losses that members of the imperial family have
suffered, so that Polybius may take comfort in the fact that he is not the
only person to have lost a brother.
In this second passage in particular, Seneca’s language uses the
underlying Stoic framework of the consolation to imply parallels between
Claudius and the Stoic concept of god.32 The Stoic god was responsible
for creating everything in the world, and for ensuring that events within
the world played out according to perfect reason. Partaking in the nature
of god gives humans their capacity for reason, and thus their ability to
29
Giardina 2000 explores Seneca’s attitude towards Claudius’ political stance in
more detail.
30
Most obvious of these is the suggestion that Polybius’ brother would not have
wanted him to stop serving Caesar (5.2).
31
Unlike the contemporary Laus Pisonis, the ad Polybium does not conform to the
panegyric model of describing Claudius’ life in terms of a beginning, middle, and end (cf.
Quintilian 3.7.10); however, it does praise Claudius’ various virtues, including his iustitia
(ad Polybium 13.3). Seneca also blurs the normally clear line between the praise of the
gods’ beneficence and the good fortune of the mortals who receive it; for contrast, see
Pliny, Pan. 1.5–6 and 3.5.
32
This is not, of course, to say that Seneca says that Claudius is the Stoic god, only
that he uses the analogy to further his panegyric and, perhaps, to encourage the emperor
to behave in a more god-like (and presumably propitious) manner. I disagree with Hulls’
reading of this passage, which interprets Claudius as the living embodiment of clementia
(2011, 169), as it does not address the protreptic aspects of the text.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
461
pursue virtue; Epictetus tells his readers to remember that “you are a
thing that comes first, you are a fragment of god” (2.8.11).33 As Rudich
has noted, there is a gradual development in Seneca’s presentation of
Claudius as “an incarnation of beneficial fate and supreme moral authority” at 6.1 and 7.2–4, to placing him among the numina at 8.1, and to finally
explicitly predicting his deification (12.5; 1987, 106); Rudich’s discussion,
however, does not consider the implications of this imagery for the Stoic
framework of the text.
Cleanthes’ well-known Hymn to Zeus, which explicitly lays out the
qualities of the Stoic god (SVF 1.537, Thom 2005), provides a helpful
point of reference for understanding ad Polybium 12.3–14.2.34 Although
Seneca does not directly allude to the Hymn, he attributes many of the
same qualities to Claudius that Cleanthes praises in Zeus. In doing so,
he not only works with the ideas of the Hymn but also those of earlier
astronomical poets. In his translation of Aratus’ Phaenomena, Germanicus
replaced the opening hymn to Zeus with a prayer addressed to Augustus. This choice represents a shift in ideology: Aratus viewed Zeus as
the benevolent creator of the world who provides signs for humans to
understand its operation, whereas Germanicus is more interested in a
world ruled by the emperor than by a providential god (Possanza 2004,
111). Seneca’s use of Cleanthes’ Hymn reintegrates these two separate
strands, making the dominant Julio-Claudian also represent a heavenly
benefactor, rather than following Germanicus in separating out the two
figures.35
While this section may initially appear to make only passing reference to the ideas in Cleanthes’ Hymn, at the end of the passage Seneca
uses unmistakably Stoic language which authorises his Stoic reader to
revisit the text and discover an additional layer of meaning. The key
phrase comes when Claudius implicitly appropriates the role of the Stoic
god (14.1):
Iam te omni confirmavit modo, iam omnia exempla quibus ad animi aequitatem compellereris tenacissima memoria rettulit, iam omnium praecepta
sapientium adsueta sibi facundia explicuit.
Seneca makes a similar observation at Ep. Mor. 73.16.
Asmis 1982, 459, explores the Stoic depiction of reason as Zeus. See Thom 2005,
9–13, for a discussion of the intersection of philosophy and religion in the Hymn and
Stoicism generally. The line references to Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus follow Thom’s edition.
35
Possanza 2004, 105–16, offers a detailed discussion of both Aratus’ and Germanicus’ proems.
33
34
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Liz Gloyn
Already he has reassured you in every way; he has recalled with a most
retentive memory every example, by which you would be driven to an
evenness of spirit; already he has explained the precepts of all the sages
with his customary eloquence.
Claudius’ relationship to Polybius is like that of the Stoic god to the sage.
He holds the knowledge of the sages and has shared it with Polybius,
just as Zeus directs the universal reason in which the sage participates.
The word sapientium is central to the implicit Stoic substructure of the
passage, as sapiens was the Latin word used for the Stoic sage. Praecepta,
too, has philosophical significance, since praecepta were a philosophical
tool for advising adherents how best to live their lives.36 Seneca explicitly
ascribes an instructional role to Claudius in which he not only teaches
Polybius the best way to cope with grief or comforts him by his presence,
but also instructs him in the precepts of the sages and leads him to an
evenness of spirit (ad animi aequitatem) which would mark the sage’s
freedom from worry.37
Once this Stoic trigger has been activated, other parallels to the
Hymn beneath the surface of the text become apparent. For instance, the
Hymn praises Zeus for his ability to make crooked things straight and
disorderly things orderly (18–19);38 Seneca hopes Claudius will restore
and reconstruct things disordered by Gaius’ furor (13.1). The Hymn
asks that we may trust Zeus to steer all things with justice (35); Seneca
entrusts his own case to Claudius’ iustitia and clementia (13.3). According
to the Hymn, the whole cosmos obeys Zeus and willingly submits to his
rule (7–8); Claudius spreads his compassion over the whole world (13.3),
and Seneca prays that he should bring peace to Germany and open up
Britain (13.2).
Finally, the Hymn describes Zeus holding a double-edged, fiery, everliving thunderbolt (10); Seneca notes that even those who are struck by
Claudius’ thunderbolts (fulmina) worship them (13.4). The thunderbolt
is the tool with which Zeus directs the universal reason (κοινὸν λόγον,
12) which flows through all things.39 Zeus creates universal reason, and
36
Seneca devotes Epistulae Morales 94 and 95 to exploring the role of praecepta in
philosophical education. Schafer 2009 provides a thoughtful study of these letters and their
implications for the didactic program of the Epistulae Morales as a whole.
37
Seneca asks Lucilius to behave as befits his aequitas in Epistulae Morales 63.7,
and reminds him that it is irrelevant how many people know of his aequitas, since those
who seek for their virtue to be widely known pursue glory, not virtue (Ep. Mor. 113.32).
38
Thom 2005, 99–107, discusses these lines further.
39
See Thom 2005, 72–83, for further discussion.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
463
it is through engagement and harmony with that reason that the sage
attains wisdom. The thunderbolt imagery strongly emphasizes the parallels
between Claudius and Zeus. Seneca thus takes the Hymn’s “awareness of
a rationality transcending the limits of our own, something or someone
that may help us live the rational life, and who therefore deserves our
worship” and applies it to Claudius as a Stoic way of understanding his
function in the universe (Thom 2005, 27).
Seneca further associates Claudius with divinity when he uses the
image of the sun, bringing light into the world (13.1):
Sidus hoc, quod praecipitato in profundum et demerso in tenebras orbi
refulsit, semper luceat.
May this star, which shines brightly in a world cast down into the depths
and submerged in shadows, always shine!
The word sidus had, by Seneca’s time, already gained considerable currency in the narrative of divinity. Julius Caesar’s divinity after his apotheosis was marked on coinage by the distinctive sidus Iulium, a comet which
was observed after his death (Pollini 1990, 352).40 Sidus also appears as
one of a variety of ways to describe Julius Caesar’s divinity in Valerius
Maximus (praef. 1.1, 3.2.19, 6.9.15; Wardle 1997, 337). On the philosophical
side, Cicero’s Stoic spokesman Balbus explicitly argues for the divinity of
the stars (De Natura Deorum 2.39–41). Seneca exploits the ambivalence
of the word sidus here, which could refer to the sun; I argue that he uses
the intersection of meteorological and religious language to further his
presentation of Claudius as the Stoic god.41 His approach plays on the
Stoic belief, particularly found in Cleanthes, that the sun was the location
of active reason in its purest form, and thus tantamount to god.42 The
sun image also relates to the Stoic theory of the cosmopolis, which will
prove important for the rest of the consolation.
The Stoics envision the cosmopolis as a universal city whose citizenship consists of all beings who have perfect reason. Arguably, every human
40
Ramsey and Licht 1997, 135–53, provides a comprehensive analysis of all ancient
sources that mention the sidus Iulium and their respective interpretations of the incident.
Kurth 1994, 154–56, traces the use of the star imagery through panegyric literature more
broadly.
41
For sidus with the meaning of “sun,” see Tibullus 2.1.47; Petronius 119.2; Pliny the
Elder 7.60.60, § 212.
42
See Diog. Laert. 7.139; Cic. Natura Deorum 2.24, 40–41, 83; Plut. De Facie Quae In
Orbe Lunae Apparet 928A–C; Macrob. Somnium Scipionis 1.20.6. I thank my first anonymous reader for bringing these references to my attention.
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being has the potential to join the cosmopolis, although that membership
is only activated by the full exercise of reason. Seneca outlines the notion
of the cosmopolis in De Otio (4.1):
Duas res publicas animo complectamur, alteram magnam et vere publicam
qua di atque homines continentur, in qua non ad hunc angulum respicimus
aut ad illum sed terminos civitatis nostrae cum sole metimur, alteram cui
nos adscripsit condicio nascendi.
Let us conceive of two states in our minds, the one great and truly common,
in which gods and men are contained, in which we do not focus on this or
that little corner, but measure the borders of our state with the sun; the
other, to which the accident of birth has appointed us.
The role of the sun in delineating the borders of the greater state makes
the multivalent meanings of sidus even more interesting. When Claudius
is described as the sidus that enlightens the world, he is once more put
into the position of the agent with the power to delineate and order the
world, just like the Stoic god. This parallel becomes even more marked
when Seneca prays that Claudius should bring peace to Germany and
open up Britain (Germaniam pacet, Britanniam aperiat, 13.2)—the worldshaping and defining role of the sol in the De Otio is taken on by the sidus
of the ad Polybium. This careful manipulation of the possible meanings
of language overlays the rhetoric of panegyric with a philosophically
charged interpretation.
The labelling of Polybius as a perfectus et eruditus vir earlier in
the consolation (6.3) uses the overlap between technical and everyday
speech to invite readers to draw parallels between his relationship with
Claudius and the relationship between the Stoic god and the sage. For the
sage, contemplation of the Stoic god, the embodiment of perfect reason,
should be a source of consolation, since participation in reason (thus
contemplation of god) is what brings the sage eudaimonia.43 If Claudius is
acting as the Stoic god within the cosmic structure of the text, it is natural
for Seneca to foreground his importance as a source of consolation for
Polybius. Indeed, just as god, whom the Stoics also viewed as equivalent
to nature, continually experiences the loss of offspring, so the emperor
has his own experience of bereavements (16.3):
43
The Stoics used the word “god” interchangeably with reason and fate as well as
with Zeus (Diogenes Laertius 7.135).
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
465
Sed ut omnia alia exempla praeteream, ut in me quoque ipso alia taceam
funera, bis me fraterno luctu adgressa fortuna est, bis intellexit laedi me
posse, vinci non posse.
But while I omit all other examples, while I am silent about other burials
in my very own case, twice Fortune attacked me with fraternal grief, twice
she learnt that I can be wounded—but not conquered.
This final flourish underlines the point that Claudius, in his symbolic
role, can provide consolation to Polybius because their bereavements
mirror each other. Claudius is not diminished by sharing the experience
of loss with Polybius. Rather, the common nature of their grief serves
to underline the universal nature of death, which even the generative
force of the world cannot escape.44 Furthermore, the wise man should
attempt to become in tune with perfect reason as much as he possibly
can. Polybius should therefore need no encouragement to emulate the
emperor, as in imitating him he replicates the action of the wise man
who behaves in accordance with wisdom. Claudius’ presence weaves
multiple complementary consolation strategies into the text: He serves
as a traditional Roman exemplum for emulation; as the Stoic god, and as
a fellow member of the cosmopolis who experiences loss.
This assimilation of Claudius to the Stoic god serves a protreptic
purpose, although the advice it offers must balance critique and praise
carefully.45 Bartsch’s concept of doublespeak, in which “the use of language
that contains meanings other than the one required by the powerholder,”
offers alternative ways to read a text’s discourse, and helps clarify the
incorporation of philosophical language into a panegyric context. Since
Claudius had a reputation both for cruelty and for ignoring legal procedure, the pressure to exhort discreetly was even higher (Griffin 1992, 150).
In Seneca’s case, the praise takes the form of drawing parallels between
Claudius and the Stoic god, thus subtly persuading Claudius to align his
behaviour further with those divine qualities—which, incidentally, would
include demonstrating benevolence towards Seneca. Seneca does not
44
The sage’s state of apatheia does not require her to extirpate everything that we
would recognise as an emotive response such as grief at the death of a loved one; see, i.e.,
Seneca’s description of a wise man freely weeping at a funeral in Epistulae Morales 99.18.
Graver 2007, 86–108, discusses this distinction further.
45
This challenge faced all imperial writers. Braund’s analysis of Pliny’s Panegyricus
reveals how the writer must balance his persuasion with considerable tact while offering exhortation to improve or change the addressee’s behaviour (1998, 66). Braund also
analyses Seneca’s own De Clementia, written to encourage the emperor Nero to behave
clemently (71–74).
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need to call upon Claudius’ better self in order to ask for clemency. By
praising him in terms which present him in comparison with the Stoic
god, Seneca offers implicit criticism of any action which does not match
up to this high benchmark of ethical behaviour.
This framework allows us to make more sense of some of Seneca’s
more controversial claims in the consolation. Two potentially problematic
passages suggest, first, that Caesar is dearer to Polybius than his own
life, so that while he lives, Polybius’ family lives, and he has no reason to
complain (7.4); and second, that Polybius’ obligations to Caesar should
be the strongest remedy against his grief, as the most important thing in
his life (7.1). Duff noted that it was “rather surprising” that Polybius’ wife
and son are only mentioned once in the consolation, especially given the
comparison offered by the De Consolatione ad Helviam (1915, 202), in
which Seneca recommends that his mother take comfort in her family
(Helv. 18.1–19.7). Seneca’s own discourse on Polybius’ relationship with
Caesar feels cynically opportunistic (7.3–4):
Caesare orbem terrarum possidente impertire te nec voluptati nec dolori
nec ulli alii rei potes: totum te Caesari debes. Adice nunc quod, cum semper
praedices cariorem tibi spiritu tuo Caesarem esse, fas tibi non est salvo
Caesare de fortuna queri: hoc incolumi salvi tibi sunt tui, nihil perdidisti,
non tantum siccos oculos tuos esse sed etiam laetos oportet; in hoc tibi
omnia sunt, hic pro omnibus est.
While Caesar is master of the world, you can give yourself neither to pleasure nor to grief nor any other thing: you owe the whole of yourself to Caesar.
Now, add also that, since you always declare that Caesar is dearer to you
than your own spirit, it is not lawful for you to complain about Fortune
with Caesar unharmed: with him safe, all your own are safe for you, you
have lost nothing; not only are dry eyes proper for you, but even happy
ones; in this man you have everything, he is before everyone.
One might dismiss this passage as a sycophantic exaggeration, or as
praise for Caesar at the expense of Polybius’ grief. Seneca’s portrayal
of Claudius as the Stoic god, however, helps to explain the relationship
of this section to the consolatory theme. The parallels are clear—both
Claudius and the Stoic god possess the world; the wise man dedicates
himself to reason as Polybius is exhorted to devote himself to Claudius;
reason and virtue are dearer to the wise man than his own life; so long
as the wise man’s virtue is intact, he is happy.
Reading Claudius as emblematic of the Stoic god also solves the
puzzle of Seneca’s advice to Polybius concerning his literary pursuits. One
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
467
of his suggestions for activities that will help Polybius overcome his grief
is writing a biography of Claudius (8.2):
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.
Then compose, so much as you can, the deeds of your Caesar, so that they
might be told through all the ages by a reporter from his household; for
he himself will give you both the material and the model for excellently
making and writing history.
The Stoic underpinning of the consolation helps us make sense of this
advice, which at first looks like a further compliment of Claudius’ accomplishments, in that they deserve the attention of Polybius’ much-lauded
literary abilities. Yet if Claudius functions as the Stoic god, as the wellspring of reason, he must provide any writer with both a way to write
and a subject to write about (materiam . . . et exemplum, 8.2). Indeed, if
Polybius resumes his literary pursuits, it makes sense for him to begin
with Caesar. Reconnecting with the representative of divine reason will
presumably give him inspiration for other literary projects, such as the
biography of his brother’s life that Seneca later proposes (18.2).
Claudius, then, not only serves as the target of Seneca’s eulogy,
but within the text also becomes the source of Polybius’ knowledge and
ultimately his relief from grief through his likeness to the Stoic god.
Within the economy of the consolation’s Stoic framework, this is a natural
development of Stoic ideas and consolatory strategies. Yet by describing
the relationship between an emperor and a senior assistant in this way,
the consolation opens up an important comparative point—Seneca’s later
relationship with the emperor Nero will eventually look very much like
that between Polybius and Claudius.46
Epistulae Morales 73, written towards the end of Seneca’s life,
offers a point of comparison from later in his career. In this letter, Seneca
addresses the question of the wise man’s attitude to those who administer
public affairs and how this relates to his own retirement from public life.
While the letter never explicitly admits that Seneca is grappling with how
to present his own withdrawal to Nero in a positive light, the parallels
46
See Griffin 1992, 67–128, for a detailed exploration of how Seneca’s role as amicus
principis functioned in practice.
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are fairly explicit.47 The way in which he represents the rulers of the state
differs from the ad Polybium, since his agenda is different; he seeks to
justify withdrawal, and thus argues that the man who can retire from
public life and philosophise is especially grateful to the guardian of the
state who, by maintaining the peace, protects him from the need to man
the walls, take arms, and participate in war (73.8–10).
To describe the relationship between the wise man and the ruler,
Seneca uses the same divine language that appears in the ad Polybium.
He begins by quoting the passage in Vergil’s Eclogues where Tityrus
attributes his leisure to a god, meaning Octavian (o Meliboee, deus nobis
haec otia fecit, 1.6).48 However, instead of leisure to play the flute, the
philosopher has otium to spend time among the gods and thus become a
god himself (hoc otium, quod inter deos agitur, quod deos facit, 73.11); he
will thus be more grateful for his ruler’s gift. Through his reinterpretation
of Vergil, Seneca illustrates an awareness that the same kind of relationship exists between himself and Nero as he depicts in the ad Polybium
between Polybius and Claudius. The difference lies in Seneca’s attitude
to withdrawal in the two texts—in Epistula 73, he appeals for otium,
while in the ad Polybium, he seeks reprieve from enforced separation.49
Seneca’s awareness of his social relationships leads him to choose the
most appropriate conceptual model to express his connection with the
emperor and with Polybius; the shape of the latter once more finds its
expression through Stoicism.
SENECA AND POLYBIUS, HIS STOIC BROTHER
Seneca constructs a relationship between himself and Polybius as brothers
in reason to strengthen his case for recall from exile.50 This relationship
depends largely upon the implication of cosmopolis theory that the shared
possession of reason is sufficient to create a significant and obligation-
47
For a more detailed analysis of how this letter fits in with Stoic conceptions of
exile, see Reydams-Schils 2005, 107.
48
There are many ways to understand the first Eclogue and Vergil’s intentions for it;
see, e.g., Nappa 2005, 223–30; Osgood 2006, 110–27; Clausen 1994, 33.
49
Seneca was well aware of the tension between the otium needed for philosophy and
the negotium required for an active political life; see Griffin 1992, 315–66, for an exploration
of the relevant texts, including his fragmentary De Otio.
50
Theoretically, the Stoic wise man would view exile as an indifferent and as something
which should not disturb his virtue and thus his happiness. See n. 12 for sources on indifferents. For more on the Roman Stoic approach to exile, see Reydams-Schils 2005, 103–13.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
469
bearing relationship between two human beings. By Seneca’s time, the
Stoics believed that “the true city is the cosmic city” (Schofield 1991, 93);
that is, the community of wise and morally good people creates a single
city within the universe.51 Vogt has rightly emphasised the importance
of remembering that the inhabitants of a city in the ancient world are
not necessarily its citizens when thinking about cosmopolis theory; all
rational inhabitants of the cosmos inhabit the same city, although only
the wise and the gods have fully mature reason, are citizens, and thus
“have, as it were, the full status of belonging to the city” (2008, 11). Wise
men who belong to the cosmopolis relate to each other on the basis of
their shared primary activity, the contemplation of reason, or the study
of what god is (deus, De Otio 4.2). Since the condition for membership
of the cosmopolis is the perfect use of reason, citizens of the universal
city will always act in ways that are perfectly just and rational towards
each other. Seneca may have prized his inalienable identity as a citizen
of the cosmopolis, even more given the Roman definition of exile as
civitatis amissio, or loss of citizenship;52 unlike his membership of the
civic community of Rome, it could be relied upon even when in exile.53
Seneca deploys the image of the cosmopolis elsewhere in the ad
Polybium to draw a connection vis-à-vis the relationship between wise
men and brothers. The best example comes at the end of the consolation (18.6):
Fluant lacrimae, sed eaedem et desinant, trahantur ex imo gemitus pectore,
sed idem et finiantur; sic rege animum tuum ut et sapientibus te adprobare
possis et fratribus.
Let the tears flow, but let them come to an end as well; let groans be dragged
from your deepest soul, but let them be finished too. Rule your mind in
such a way that you can prove yourself to both wise men and brothers.
51
There are two positions on how Zeno originally conceived the cosmopolis. Schofield
takes the position that Zeno’s original view mirrored that of Plato, in that he envisaged a
perfect community of sages; later developments in cosmopolis theory extended this idea
to the cosmos as city by virtue of it acting as a shared habitation, however large (1991,
67–74). Vogt, however, takes the position that Zeno argued that we should think of all
humans as fellow-citizens, in terms of all inhabiting a universal polis already formed by
the cosmos (2008, 65–110).
52
See Ulpian D 48.19.2.pr (1207). Williams 2006 explores the more substantial
development of this idea and conceptions of exile in the ad Helviam.
53
There has been lively debate about whether exiles legally retain their Roman citizenship or not. Crifò 1984 argues that exile was the right of a Roman citizen until the lex Tullia
in 63 b.c.e.; Kelly 2006 suggests instead that it was assumed that any exile would become a
citizen of the state in which he took up residence, thus renouncing his Roman citizenship.
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Polybius is directed to seek the praise of both wise men and brothers; the
implication is that Seneca models the relationships between wise men on
those between brothers—a particularly appropriate strategy for this text,
given that Seneca is consoling Polybius on the loss of his brother. This
argument’s consolatory power comes from its suggestion that Polybius
may take comfort from the wider network of sages to which, Seneca
implies, he belongs by virtue of his reason and intellect. This community is demonstrated in miniature by Polybius’ actual brothers, whom
Seneca describes as functioning as a cosmopolis, a most harmonious
or like-minded crowd (concordissimam turbam, 3.4).54 The brothers are
also referred to as “a house stuffed full of excellent young men” (stipatam optimorum adulescentium domum, 3.4), a description which again
emphasises community and shared virtue.
Seneca takes advantage of the relationship that the cosmopolis
creates between those with shared reason for several purposes. Not only
does he use it for consolatory ends, but it also helps to construct a fraternal relationship based on reason between himself and Polybius (and, by
extension, with the dead brother). This connection means that Seneca is
also a brother to Polybius, who is lost to him through exile no less than
his biological brother is lost to him through death. Seneca reinforces his
connection to Polybius explicitly at the extant opening of the consolation.
He places himself alongside Polybius as an equal sufferer of his pain, who
is entitled to lament with him (2.1–2):
Nam si quicquam tristitia profecturi sumus, non recuso quidquid lacrimarum fortunae meae superfuit tuae fundere; inveniam etiamnunc per
hos exhaustos iam fletibus domesticis oculos quod effluat, si modo id tibi
futurum bono est. Quid cessas? conqueramur . . .
For if we are going to achieve anything by sadness, I do not refuse to pour
out for your misfortune whatever tears have survived my own: I will still
find some which may flow through these eyes already exhausted by private
tears, if only they will be of some good to you. Why do you hold back?
Let us lament . . .
Seneca’s depiction of himself suggests that he is as affected by Polybius’
brother’s death as Polybius himself. On the surface, this appears to be a
variation on the trope of competitive shared grief found in aristocratic
54
This is another example of a two-level mode of discourse; Vogt 2008, 155–56,
examines the Stoics’ use of concordia in this manner. Cicero refers to concordia as one of
the foundations of the state (De Officiis 2.78).
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
471
consolation letters.55 On the level of the cosmopolis, however, Seneca is
entitled to grieve for the loss of a man who was his brother as well as
Polybius’ through virtue of their shared reason. He and Polybius do indeed
suffer the same grief, because within the structure of the cosmopolis, the
dead man was brother to both of them.
Seneca takes advantage of his theme to highlight the difference
between his circumstances and those of Polybius’ brother, thus emphasising his own plight. He furthers the parallel by using strongly geographical
language to describe the brother’s condition post mortem. If the dead have
no senses, then the brother has returned to that place (in eum locum, 9.2)
from which he came. If the dead do retain their senses, then he looks down
at the world from a higher place (ex loco superiore, 9.3). Seneca goes on
to describe the location in which the brother now spends his time (9.8):
Fruitur nunc aperto et libero caelo; ex humili atque depresso in eum emicuit locum, quisquis ille est qui solutas vinculis animas beato recipit sinu,
et nunc libere illic vagatur omniaque rerum naturae bona cum summa
voluptate perspicit.
Now he enjoys the free and open sky, he has burst forth from a humble
and low-lying place to that region, whatever it may be, which receives
souls freed from their chains in its blessed lap, and now he wanders freely
there, and observes all the good things of nature with the greatest pleasure.
In this idyllic picture, souls are freed from their burdens and can contemplate what is good without obstruction, presumably in the company of
other souls. The location is blessed (beato) in comparison to the humble
and lowly place from which the soul has come (humili atque depresso).
This description is obviously designed to provide comfort by picturing a
blessed dwelling of the dead instead of an unhappy underworld. It also
provides a contrast to Seneca’s place of exile, of which he paints a dire
picture at the conclusion of the consolation (18.9):
Haec, utcumque potui, longo iam situ obsoleto et hebetato animo composui. Quae si aut parum respondere ingenio tuo aut parum mederi dolori
videbuntur, cogita quam non possit is alienae vacare consolationi quem
sua mala occupatum tenent, et quam non facile latina ei homini verba
succurrant quem barbarorum inconditus et barbaris quoque humanioribus
gravis fremitus circumsonat.
55
See Wilcox’s discussion of Cicero’s opening of Fam. 5.16 (2005a, 241–42).
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To what extent I could, I wrote these things in an already far off place
with a dilapidated and dull mind. If they seem to speak too little to your
temperament or to comfort your grief too little, consider how he whom his
own evils hold occupied cannot find leisure to console another, and how
far from easily Latin words occur to that man around whom the uncivilised
growl of barbarians, oppressive even to the more civilised barbarians, echoes.
This place is the opposite of that in which Polybius’ brother resides.
There is somewhere on the earth, longo iam situ, that is far away from
Polybius and civilisation, yet it is not the world of the dead—it is where
Seneca finds himself.56 Moreover, his presence there is directly connected
to the decline of his intellectual qualities.57 Specifically, his mind (animo)
is deteriorating. Ovid had made this point about his experience at Tomis,
claiming that he had been among the barbarians for so long that he now
mostly spoke Sarmartian and hardly ever thought to write in Latin (Tristia
5.7). Seneca takes this idea a step further—it is not just the comparatively
unimportant capacity to compose verse that he loses through the exilic
experience, but the very ability to be human through his exercise of his
rational faculties and participation in philosophy. Without the company of
his brothers in reason, Seneca cannot maintain the ethical standard that
they set, nor can he guarantee that he will communicate with Polybius
as he once would have done.
Seneca has already hinted at the human need to be surrounded by
others. Polybius is at the centre of a support structure that sustains him
through situations in which his virtue is tested. Seneca makes much of
Polybius’ public role and says that there are certain behaviours that would
be possible for others which he cannot perform because of his position.
He is forbidden from doing particular things because of the impression
others have of his learning and his character (opinio de studiis ac moribus
tuis, 6.3). In fact, other people’s awareness of Polybius’ virtues prevents
him from lowering his standards, and they become the guardians of his
56
Degl’Innocenti Pierini 1981 notes the force of the word angulus in Seneca’s
description of Corsica at 13.3; the word establishes that Corsica is the implicit opposite of
Rome, as well as the place in which Polybius’ brother finds himself, as I argue here. Corsica
may not have deserved the condemnation that Seneca heaps upon it. The archaeological
evidence, outlined in Bingham 2003, 390–92, suggests a fairly well-occupied settlement
connected to a garrison and detachment of the fleet which were stationed on the island
in the imperial period.
57
Ker observes that the closing section of the consolation reveals that studia are
“vulnerable in their own right,” but he does not link that to Seneca’s philosophical agenda
(2009, 102–3).
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
473
mind (custodes animi tui, 6.3).58 The rational population of the cosmic
city serves a crucial role in policing Polybius’ behaviour, and in helping
him to perform sage-like behaviour as a perfectus et eruditus vir (6.3).
Polybius’ ability to maintain his virtuous behaviour, both in everyday and
technical Stoic terms, stems in part from his involvement with the wider
community, and from the safeguard that he receives in that community
against inappropriate behaviour.
Seneca’s claim that his reason is deteriorating in exile could be read
as a plea for recall on the grounds of intellectual and cultural superiority.
Within a Stoic context, however, the complaint is more logical. If Seneca’s
animus decays, then his ability to engage with reason fails with it. He
needs to be with his brothers in reason to maintain his hold on virtue
and his rational understanding; it is an active process that is hindered by
his isolation. Reason is the key quality that enables Seneca to participate
in the cosmopolis broadly defined, and which allows him to develop the
“possibilities inherent in our rational nature” (Graver 2007, 51) as he
progresses towards sagehood. Even as an aspiring sage, he still has a
case—by losing control of his animus, he is retreating from the chance
to gain virtue, not advancing towards it. The location of Seneca’s exile
is the anti-cosmopolis, where his ability to interact with other humans is
actively stunted rather than encouraged.
Indeed, one might argue that Seneca does not actually have any
humans to engage with. The only individuals he encounters are barbarians.
Even though some of them might be “more human” than others (humaniores, 18.9), they do not have the capacity to function as his b
­ rothers in
virtue; they do not qualify as rational members of the cosmopolis, much
less as full citizens. The negative categorisation of the natives in the area
of banishment is a well-trodden trope of exile literature, but the Stoic
frame of the consolation once more modifies the standard image.59 If
the natives of Corsica had the human potential to perfect their reason,
then however unpolished their rational abilities, they would still have
the capacity to engage Seneca’s reason and keep it sharp. The natives,
however, are characterised as subhuman—that is, completely incapable of
participating in reason, which is a distinctively human attribute in Stoic
thought.60 Even their communication is described in subhuman terms. The
See the previous discussion above.
Ovid gives the best comparanda; see, e.g., Tr. 3.10, 4.10, and 5.7 for a negative
portrayal of the local inhabitants of Tomis.
60
Seneca himself makes this point in Ep. Mor. 76.9 (in homine quid est optimum?
Ratio: hac antecedit animalia, deos sequitur; “what is the best thing in a man? Reason: with
it he precedes the animals and follows the gods”).
58
59
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Liz Gloyn
words fremitus and circumsonat are not usually associated with human
speech. Fremitus tends to be non-human and associated with the natural
world, while circumsonat is normally translated as “resound” or “echo,”
which implies that what is produced is mere noise rather than meaningful
content.61 Seneca even describes the racket that surrounds him in the city
as fremitus in Epistulae Morales 56.3, and thus includes human speech of
a certain sort in the same category as tumbling water. While Seneca was
able to make accommodations for the distractions caused by the noises
of city life, on Corsica he has no such escape.
Seneca’s attitude to exile is arguably atypical with Stoicism. Another
well-known Roman Stoic, Musonius Rufus, was also sent into exile; That
Exile Is Not An Evil (fr. 9) sets out his arguments for why a Stoic should
not be troubled by exile and outlines what might be called the orthodox
Stoic position.62 Musonius emphasises that exile does not separate us in
any way from the society of men (41.6–10), and that any misery we feel
in exile comes from the evil (kakos) within us, not from the exile itself;
thus we should strive to extirpate evil, not obtain recall (51.1–4).63 Whitmarsh argues that the state of exile represents Musonius’ commitment
to philosophy, which already exiles him from normal society (2001, 279).
Yet Seneca does not follow Musonius’ line of reasoning. He argues that,
while he may not be on his own, he is in the company of individuals who
cause his rational capacities harm. The only thing that causes harm to
the sage is whatever may affect his virtue; his virtue is achieved by his
participation in reason; and if exile is affecting Seneca’s reason, whether
he is a sage or aspiring to sagehood, then he is entitled to seek respite
from his circumstances. Seneca seems to argue that in order to exercise
his reason, he needs to be in a certain physical space with a specific kind
61
For uses of fremitus see Cic. Fin. 5.2.5 and Tusc. 5.40.116; Lucr. 1.276; and Caes. B.
Civ. 3.38.3; for uses of circumsonat see Livy 3.28.3 and 39.10.7, Verg. Aen. 8.474; and Sen.
Tranq. 1.9. Fantham 2007, 191, notes the language used here, but sees it as an exilic echo of
Ovid Tr. 3.14.33–36; Degl’Innocenti Pierini 1990, 120–21, suggests that fremitus foregrounds
the threats Seneca risks from the war-like local tribes. Seneca himself provides a different description of the Corsican language at Helv. 7.9, where he attributes the shifting of
vocabulary to the tides of migration to the island.
62
A full translation of Musonius’ fragments may be found in Lutz 1947, as well as a
discussion of his background. Whitmarsh 2001 places Musonius’ thoughts on exile in the
broader context of shaping Greek identity during the Second Sophistic period.
63
As Reydams-Schils puts it, “even when we appear the most withdrawn, whether
in ourselves or on the remotest of islands, we are actually still involved in community
and cannot be otherwise” (2005, 74). I refer to the page and line number of Hense’s 1905
Teubner edition of Musonius.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
475
of company. This claim conflicts both with the case made by Musonius and
with Seneca’s own approach to exile in ad Helviam, where he diminishes
the relative importance of Rome to the rest of the world as a place to
be, since ultimately we are all exiles in one way or another (Williams
2006, 152). Seneca pushes his argument to the limit of orthodox Stoic
philosophy, placing the doctrinal stance on the development of reason
and virtue in opposition to Stoicism’s views on exile in order to highlight
his plight to Polybius.
Seneca’s deployment of cosmopolis theory seeks to emphasise “that
such a community exists, should be understood, and should transform how
we relate to others” (Vogt 2008, 109). More specifically, Seneca hopes
to shape and alter Polybius’ understanding of the relationship between
them, and to modify Polybius’ behaviour accordingly. The parallel that
Seneca established between Polybius’ loss of his brother to death and
Polybius’ loss of Seneca to exile is deliberately unbalanced; while Polybius’ brother has moved on to a place far superior to earth, and has been
taken back to nature and thus to reason itself (10.4), Seneca has been
dislodged from his intellectual moorings and prevented from pursuing
wisdom.64 Polybius may be unable to change his brother’s fate—but he
can change Seneca’s.65
CONCLUSION
Earlier in this article, I argued that the ad Polybium offered more than
mere flattery. Now that I have demonstrated some ways to interpret
the perplexing features of the text, I want to return to the question of
relationships between the ruler and the ruled. In the consolation, Seneca
explores the relationships between himself, Polybius, and Claudius; each
pair has its own dynamic that the consolation seeks to explain within a
universe that obeys Stoic laws. Claudius and Polybius interact in a way
which is characterised as extremely positive, yet ignores any influence
which Polybius may have over Claudius (and which Seneca implicitly
hopes he will use). Seneca and Claudius barely make contact; despite
64
Seneca also puts forward the possibility that Polybius’s brother can no longer sense
anything in death (si nihil sentit, 5.1; see also 9.2), although this would follow an Epicurean
rather than a Stoic view of death; the portrayal of the heavens at 9.8 corresponds to the latter.
65
This strategy mirrors that noted by Ker, whereby “the reintegration of the grieving
Polybius and the reintegration of the exiled Seneca are mediated through the narrative of
the Julio-Claudian dynasty’s transformation and renewal” (2009, 102).
476
Liz Gloyn
Seneca’s praise of Claudius’ achievements, the emperor’s role in Seneca’s exile is largely unacknowledged, and the hope for clemency is an
expression of wish rather than fact. Polybius and Seneca are placed on
an equal footing as rational brothers who share a love of learning and
the pursuit of virtue, but political power dynamics are omitted from the
discussion.66 As a way of dealing with absolute authority, Seneca’s strategy
of constructing community requires both intimate knowledge of Stoic
doctrine and a belief in its applicability to situations in the real world.
Stoic philosophy allows Seneca to engage with the realities of power
in a way that balances his social, political, and philosophical interests.
Scholarly anxiety about Seneca’s intentions is generated by the perceived
need to reconcile the attitudes of the adulatory ad Polybium and the
satirical Apocolocyntosis, and to resolve the question of Seneca’s sincerity as an author.67 As Bartsch has shown in her work on Juvenal and
Tacitus, however, to ask “Is Seneca sincere?” is to ask the wrong question
(1994, 113–14). To dismiss the ad Polybium as sycophancy or to read the
Apocolocyntosis as apologetic fails to understand the political realities
of continued existence under the empire. In the ad Polybium, praise is
necessary for survival; in the Apocolocyntosis, so is mockery. The mastery
of doublespeak, saying one thing that means both what it says and what
it does not say, is an essential skill for those who wish to survive under
an emperor. As Seneca writes the Apocolocyntosis, he finds himself in
exactly the same complicated relationship with Nero that Polybius had
with Claudius. The unequal social status of the two men, one an equestrian
and the other a freedman, has thus far obscured the important parallels
between them; but under the emperor’s absolute power, they are both
slaves.68 The Apocolocyntosis’ ridicule is necessitated by Nero’s expectation that Seneca will be as loyal to him as Polybius was to Claudius, but
it also leads Seneca into the dangerous territory of disparaging the man
through whom Nero held legitimacy as emperor.69 The existence of both
texts reinforces the necessity for both; it would be impossible to speak in
one voice without the other, even if in this case the different voices are
developed in two different texts. What has been seen as Seneca’s hypocrisy
66
Degl’Innocenti Pierini argues that, through a deliberate allusion to Ovid’s exilic
poetry, Seneca implies that he expects Polybius to pass on his work to Claudius (1990, 114–16).
67
For bibliography on the relationship between the two texts, see n. 3.
68
Degl’Innocenti Pierini also sees a link between Polybius’ service to the emperor
and the emperor’s service to the state (1990, 237).
69
Motto 2001 explores in more detail Seneca’s final years under Nero, particularly
the dynamics of defiance and submission in that relationship. For more on the relationship
between imperial freedmen and emperors, see Mouritsen 2011, 93–109.
Seneca’s De consolatione ad polybium
477
in first praising, then satirising, Claudius is predicated on a deeper set of
political realities that go beyond simple like and dislike.
Instead of demonstrating or undermining Seneca’s sincerity, the ad
Polybium offers us an insight into the strategies an elite writer might use
to engage with the emperor and the power politics of their relationship.
Seneca’s use of Stoic doctrine in the ad Polybium creates a coherent consolatory argument throughout the text. As this article has demonstrated,
the use of Stoicism as an interpretative lens reveals how Seneca deploys
philosophical content both to console Polybius on the loss of his brother
and to make an implicit case for his own recall from exile. By moving away
from reading the consolation as flattery, the text can be reincorporated
within Seneca’s wider philosophical oeuvre.70
Royal Holloway, University of London
e-mail: [email protected]
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