Rhetoric and Contingency: Aristotle, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Blumenberg 9783110701654, 9783110701517

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DS Mayfield Rhetoric and Contingency

DS Mayfield

Rhetoric and Contingency Aristotle, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Blumenberg

Parts of this study were prepared while receiving funding from the European Research Council (ERC) as a member of the DramaNet project at Freie Universität Berlin (2014 to 2016).

Currently (2020), the author’s work is being funded by the Fritz Thyssen Stiftung.

ISBN 978-3-11-070151-7 e-ISBN [PDF] 978-3-11-070165-4 e-ISBN [EPUB] 978-3-11-070177-7 Library of Congress Control Number: 2020944489 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. Chapter “Concerning Determinism and Contingency” © DS Mayfield; Chapter “Virtuosity and Effectuality” © DS Mayfield © 2020 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover image: tainted / E+ / Getty Images Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

| IN GRATITUDE TO

KATHY EDEN for advocating ⁊ cultivating the work of WESLEY TRIMPI (1928–2014) IN MEMORIAM

Contents Particularized Preface  1

Acknowledgments qua Inductive Overture | 3

General Introduction  2 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6

Concerning Determinism and Contingency | 13 Chance and Providence | 13 Freedom of the Otherwise | 17 Discursive Tendencies | 20 Conceptual Précis | 23 Synopses of Chapters 3 to 13 | 26 Provisional Notes on Method | 56

Theories  3 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7

Aristotle’s Contingency | 61 Exemplary Accidents | 65 On Nature and Chance | 69 Naturally Fortunate | 80 The Rationality of (Reckoning with) Unaccountability | 91 Preliminary Précis | 102 Arts of the Accidental | 109 Towards Logic’s Rhetoricization | 122

4 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5

From Aristotle to Quintilian, and Beyond | 143 An Overture in Retrospect | 155 Contingency Beyond Logic | 159 Contingent Qualities | 172 ‘Naked Contingency’ | 186 Diachronic Conceptualizations of Contingency | 205

VIII | Contents

Methods  5 5.1 5.1.1 5.1.2 5.1.3 5.2 5.2.1 5.2.2 5.2.3

Induction and Contingency | 219 ‘The Method is the Message’: Blumenberg’s Beschreibung | 222 Writing in the Face of Contingency and Polysemy | 223 Description | 232 Approaching Contingency by Way of Impartial Arts | 237 Definitionous. Blumenberg’s Countervailing ‘Art of Description’ | 241 ‘Definitional Essais’: The Human Measure | 248 Description Thereof: Artfulness Involved | 265 In(to) the Balance: Gegen-Darstellungen | 281

Mise en Scène  6 Contingency and Cynicism in Celestina | 287 6.1 ‘et divinum et bestiale’: Celestina a lo Humano | 288 6.2 Written to Be Spoken: Socio-Historical Circumstances | 289 6.3 Diogenical Cynicism | 295 6.4 The Play, Protagonists, and Plot | 302 6.4.1 Dramatis Personae | 303 6.4.2 Précis of the Plot | 304 6.5 The Discursive Tendency: Consummate Contingency | 311 6.6 Cynicism in Celestina | 328 6.6.1 Cynical Remarks | 329 6.6.1.1 Pervasive Self-Interest | 336 6.6.1.2 The Recourse to ‘Nature’ | 341 6.6.1.3 Reappropriation of Moral Discourses, Concepts, Practices | 351 6.6.1.4 Voiding the Other’s Value | 355 6.6.1.5 Pleasure at Any Cost—Specifically the Other’s | 360 6.6.2 Celestina qua Cynic | 365 6.7 Cynical Rhetoric and Contingency | 370 7 7.1 7.1.1 7.1.2

Brutal Latencies. On the Crafting of Political Union | 373 Dramatico-Rhetorical Takes on the Tale of Lucretia —and Brutus | 375 Refunctionalization: Blumenberg’s Concept of ‘Working on Myths’ | 375 The Narrative Grid: Enabling Diachronic Reworkings | 380

Contents | IX

7.2 7.2.1 7.2.2 7.2.3 7.3 8 8.1 8.2 8.3

Early Modern Variants in Europe’s Cultural Networks | 385 Diachronic Uptakes and Variations in Times of Crisis | 386 Shakespeare’s Lucrece (1594) | 392 Machiavelli’s Mandragola (~1518) | 404 ‘Speaking to the Present by Way of the Past’ | 417

8.5.2 8.6

Otherwise. Rhetorical Techniques of Contradiction | 421 Variants of Contradiction in Measure for Measure | 423 Cultural Roles of Wordcraft in Ancient, Early Modern Times | 426 Tentative Synopsis of Rhetorical Terms, Uses, Techniques Relating to Contradiction | 435 The Dynamic Reciprocity of Corroboration and Confutation | 437 Modes of Rhetorical Refutation | 440 Rhetoric Exemplarily Confuting its Contradictors | 447 The Functionality of Argument in utramque partem | 450 Case Studies Toward a Rhetorical Poetics of Contradiction | 459 Confutation as a Dispositive Structuring Device: Augustine, Machiavelli | 459 Rhetorically Informed Techniques of Contradiction: Gracián | 465 With Respect to Stealing the Thunder | 471

9 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5

Make Life Art—An Immoral Imperative | 473 Brevity | 474 Intensity | 480 (Poly-)Perspectivity | 485 Immorality | 491 Totality | 498

8.3.1 8.3.2 8.3.3 8.4 8.5 8.5.1

Philosophistics  10 10.1 10.2 10.2.1 10.2.2 10.2.3 10.2.4 10.3

Life Being Brief (No Need to Cut It Short)—Concerning Blumenberg’s Senecan Affinities | 507 Marquard with Respect to Blumenberg on Seneca | 508 ‘Vita Brevis’—Versus and Vis-à-Vis—‘Mors Voluntaria’ | 515 The Platonic Socrates on the Way Out | 521 Select Rationalizations of Suicide: Cicero’s Cato | 527 ‘The Open Door’: Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius | 541 Senecan Liberty (Not Without Epicurus) | 555 Blumenberg on Brevity, Freedom (Including from Life) | 577

X | Contents

10.3.1 10.3.2 10.3.3 10.4

‘Qui potest mori non potest cogi’: Senecan Variations | 580 Si Vita Brevis, Cur Voluntaria Mors | 589 Free to Be Brief | 598 A Lambent ‘Even So’ | 602

11 Blumenberg’s Rhetoric—With a Case Study on Fontane | 613 11.1 ‘Sola Humana Arte’: Concern at, for, with Wordcraft | 617 11.1.1 Worldliness: ‘Quod supra nos, nil ad nos’ | 622 11.1.2 Human Beings | 639 11.1.3 téchne | 648 11.2 Eloquence in Application | 658 11.2.1 inventio | 658 11.2.2 dispositio | 660 11.2.3 elocutio | 665 11.3 ‘Clairaudience’. Blumenberg’s Poetic Hermeneutics of Fontane’s Subtlety | 668 11.3.1 Reading Classics with Clairaudience | 670 11.3.2 The Rhetorical genus subtile | 673 11.3.3 Blumenberg on Fontane’s Style | 677 11.3.4 Fontanean Samples of Subtle Écriture | 683 11.3.5 The Clairaudience of Poetic Hermeneutics | 693 12 12.1 12.2 12.3 12.4

Blumenberg’s Fauna | 695 Against Neo-Romanticism | 699 A Metapoetical Perspective on ‘Appresentation’ | 702 A Tentative Application on Rhetorical Grounds | 728 Narrative ‘zoo-poiéseis’ qua Hypothetical Turns Towards an Other’s ‘Inside’ | 734

13 Virtuosity and Effectuality | 737 13.1 For the Love of Human Craft | 742 13.2 Against Rhetorical Engineering: Kant | 747 13.3 Applied Manipulation | 756 13.3.1 Machiavellian Ventriloquism | 758 13.3.2 Gracián’s Artful Acuteness | 761 13.4 Operative Poetics | 766 13.4.1 Valéryan Technicalities | 766 13.4.2 Poesque Expectations | 769 13.5 Wordcraft and Chancefulness | 774

Contents | XI

Bibliography | 783 Primary Literature | 783 Anthologies, Databases, Dictionaries | 822 Secondary Literature | 822 Index | 865

| Particularized Preface

1 Acknowledgments qua Inductive Overture Wesley Trimpi […] has done much to advance the rationalist reform of the arts[.] —Eden/Shankman (11)1

Myriad are the works in a scholar’s days. Yet few yield what the Hortensius is said to have performed for a diehard rhetorician: profoundly alter the peruser.2 To say nothing of others for the moment, Muses of One Mind is among said rarities. Its thought and method have shaped the present endeavor in fundamental respects. It would seem as though any academic life of some length cannot but encompass certain instances of reception as structure everything into a before and after. While further examples will be duly reflected in the leaves to follow, two such incidents are of exceptional import to the study at hand—both induced by esteemed professors, whose own work has proven seminal. In the late fall of 2010—having just commenced work on his dissertation as a member of the Friedrich Schlegel Graduate School at Freie Universität Berlin— the author’s academic teacher encouraged the perusal of a tome as happens to have turned into an intellectual crossroads. Preceded by the sixteenth—christened Das Ende—it was the last volume of that most renowned research group, Poetik und Hermeneutik.3 Said title and sequence may well be taken to reflect the fact that—apart from encounters and beginnings—supposed endings are likewise contingent; perhaps even or especially: they might be else, or not at all.4 In effect, any hypolépseis—ongoing uptakes with variation—prove the interminability of such ‘otherwisdom’. The less heterodox love or search for the latter has always taken exception to the concept of chance—whatever its changing names: týche, fors, (a)caso, hasard, Zufall, et μυρία caetera.5 In countless conversations following that autumn of 2010, Joachim Küpper deliberated on diachronically diverse attempts at coming to terms with

|| 1 They further accentuate “the complex fabric of” his “scholarship” (8). 2 Cicero’s hortative treatise is now lost. See Augustine—whose preceding ‘qualis sit’ will apply to his own personae (Conf. 1–8. 100–101, III.4.7; with 101n.). Cf. Fuhrmann (Spätantike 196); Chadwick (10). Pertinently, Eden/Shankman observe: “Trimpi’s […] Muses both begins and ends protreptically, with a call to philology” (9). 3 Cf. Stierle/Warning (passim); von Graevenitz/Marquard (Kontingenz passim); also Rohde (34; 54). Amslinger tenders an expedient study on said research group (passim; here spec. 10–11). 4 See Blumenberg (Höhlen. 13; with Waszynski “Dilemma” 102); Jauß (“Epilog” 533; also 525). 5 Memorably, Küpper refers to “fortuna” as “order’s unnamable other” (“Ordnung” 209; trans. dsm). See Boethius (“Phil. Consolat.” 352–353, IV.v.17–19; 356–357, IV.vi.4, and IV.vi.11–14). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-001

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contingency: in Greek tragedy, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Ockham, Petrarca, Boccaccio, Rojas, Machiavelli, Luther, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Gracián, Fontane, Blumenberg, et multa alia. As this (entirely) heuristic array might signal—and the scholar’s research bears out—one appears to be dealing with a most elemental query; perchance, an anthropistic invariant even.6 Among the many insights and incitements emerging with utter clarity from these conversations or perusals, the most pondersome may be the ensuing. Rather dependably, the litterae sensu lato seem to have evinced a considerable facility in formulating Fortuna’s impact on the conditio humana, while simultaneously proving to be the most productive means of “domesticating” týche by virtue of poíesis and téchne (Küpper “Ordnung” 217; trans. dsm; likewise Kablitz “Selbstinszenierung” 551n).7 Poetry’s Ancient parent—the comprehensive ars par excellence—may be described as a methodical arsenal of means and maneuvers for making the most of any and all accidents as might accrue. It marks the most enduring and effectual of those “attempts at imposing an order”—at “transferring world into discourse” (Küpper “Ordnung” 212; trans. dsm). Hardly has rhetoric had structural problems with contingency.8 On the contrary: it is the art’s “enabling structure”, a conditio sine qua non (“Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm).9 Only if virtually every matter may also be (seen or deemed) else will it be possible to take and change sides—the ability to always also argue on any of the other partes being a time-honored signum of oratory.10

|| 6 Several studies on Küpper’s part highlight the lasting influence of conceptual discretions in said respect (cf. Discursive 11; 12n.; 26; 33–36; 39–43; 62–63; 83; 92; 115; 118; 120; 134; 162; 164; 177; 202; 211; 219; 232; 255n.; 257–259; 260n.; 268n.; 270; 274–276; 278; 283; 297; 301; 355; 396; 410; 450–451; 460; passim; “Episteme” passim; “Ordnung” passim; spec. 209n.; 215; 217; 221; Schweigen 16n.–17n., 17; 28; 32; 48; 50; 52, 52n.; 67n.; 110; 119n.; 121–122; 161, 161n.; passim). 7 See Küpper: “Bewältigung durch Ästhetisierung”; “das ‘gezähmte’ […] Fortuna-Konzept” (“Ordnung” 209, 209n.). Cf. Sommer (“Zufall” 99); Vogt (with variants passim, e.g. at 29; 35; 106; 128; 131; 186n.; 346; 508; 536; 579–590; 597; 652; 655). Gaonkar also uses the term “domesticated” (“Contingency [2001]” 153; “Contingency [2006]” 7); his context is highly problematic. 8 See Eden: “That rhetoric and historiography should be complementary arts in antiquity is not surprising given their common stake in contingency and particularity” (Rhet. Trad. 27n.; with “Augustinian” 57n.). Enterline accentuates: “Rhetoric is, above all, an art based on contingency” (Body 21). See Sloane (Contrary 10); Kahn (Machiavellian Rhet. 238; also Prudence 154; spec. 160). Cf. and contrast Gaonkar’s assorted questionabilities (spec. “Contingency [2001]” 151; 153–154; 156–158; passim; “Contingency [2006]” 5; 8; 11–14). See the onset of ch. 8, herein. 9 The scholar refers to a “consciousness of contingency” qua “Ermöglichungsstruktur” (“Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm; with 212). 10 Cf. ch. 8 (spec. 8.4), herein.

Inductive Overture | 5

Unlike philosophy proper—having ever and severally tried, hence naturally failed, to bring chance under control—the téchne kat’ exochén aims at (retrospectively, proactively) exploiting whatever may befall.11 It does this to the very best—and, lest the truth be withheld, also to the worst—of its capacities.12 Consequently, it will not seem accidental that Aristotle (rather than Plato) provided the first and founding theory of contingency.13 The former’s preference for epagogé—beginning from effects and what is more closely at hand—aligns with the general thrust of rhetoric.14 Not unlikewise, the quasi ‘legitimacy’ of contingency in ‘Modernity’ (soidisant) will be intricately linked to another philosopher with rhetorical leanings; and a corresponding penchant for proceeding by way and virtue of induction.15 Unfortunately but inevitably (for res humanae), the volume concluding the efforts on the part of the aforesaid research group also bids farewell to its foremost members: Jauß and Blumenberg—whose live voices fell silent in 1997 and 1996, respectively.16 Especially the latter’s œuvre is omnipresent in Kontingenz—tacitly, as well as expressly; and suitably so, considering his lifelong work on this humanmost of issues. As everyone knows, certain coincidences may produce wistfulness—and yet yield potentials. On March 6, 2014, Wesley Trimpi passed away after a long and

|| 11 See Bubner: “Für die philosophische Theorie bleibt der Zufall besonders dunkel, weil sie offenbar jeglichen Ansatzes zur Bestimmung dessen entbehrt, was beliebig eintritt und sich keiner Rationalisierung beugt. Theorien über den Zufall hat die Geschichte der Philosophie infolgedessen nur ausnahmsweise hervorgebracht” (Geschichtsprozesse 35; plus 113–114, and 163–164, as to the following case). Cf. Schaeffer’s description of a “notorious paralogism: demonstrating the historical importance of an event is not the same […] as demonstrating its necessity; […] to legitimate his deductions (‘it happened, thus it had to be’) […], Hegel […] discovered an absolute panacea: like a snake biting its own tail, theory and history mutually legitimate each other within a closed circle” (Art of the Modern Age 157–158). 12 See subchs. 3.6, 4.3, 8.2, 11.3.2, as well as ch. 13, herein. 13 Cf. Küpper (“Ordnung” 212–214). See the onset of ch. 5, herein. 14 In Poetik und Hermeneutik XVII, this affinity is elicited by Bubner’s lucid contribution. Cf. his very title (in trans.): “The Aristotelian Doctrine of Chance. Remarks from the Perspective of [an Attempt at] Approaching Philosophy to Rhetoric” (“Zufall” 3; and cf. passim). See spec. subchs. 4.1, 4.4, as well as ch. 5, herein. 15 Alluding to Blumenberg’s opus magnum (Legitimität passim); and treatise on rhetoric (“Annäher. [2001]” passim). Cf. spec. subch. 4.4, as well as chs. 5 and 11, herein. 16 It is dedicated to their memory (see Graevenitz/Marquard Kontingenz IX; Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” passim; Stierle “Nachruf” passim). On the interplay of ‘contingency’ and “memoria”, see Kablitz (“Ende” 540–542, spec 541; 545). Naturally, “quicksilvery […] mind[s]” (Stierle “Nachruf” XXVIII) remain present in writing—ut scripta maneant: tolle, lege.

6 | Inductive Overture

fruitful life as scholar and poet.17 Within two months, during an international workshop at Columbia University in early May of that same year, the present author met the departed’s student, Kathy Eden—who introduced him to her teacher’s work in many conversations over the following years.18 In said life of thought, perusing Muses of One Mind instantly turned into another watershed. Providing a hitherto missing link—that one, indispensable component, which permits approaching a conceptual correlation more feckfully—Trimpi’s research on the “Rhetorical Transmission of Literary Theory” pertains to the rarest, most treasured kind of studies: the (literally) egregious, and sui generis.19 Taking its bearings from Kontingenz and Muses, the present monograph is a product of serendipitous affinities, qualitative coalescences; and specifically by recourse to the Ancient—as well as the ‘Modern’—philosopher of otherwiseness and rhetoric alike. In the Stagirite, “the place of the contingent is practical philosophy” (Küpper “Ordnung” 214; trans. dsm). Like the semiotic, linguistic téchne par excellence, it reckons with “the unlimited randomness of human actions” (Trimpi Muses 264n.). Proceeding with respect to Quintilian’s reception of Aristotle, said scholar further observes that the art’s third status refers to contingent qualities which bear by chance [‘per accidentia, id est κατὰ συμβεβηκός’] upon the case proper; […] the term συμβεβηκός […] refers to an accident […] which […] can […] either belong or not belong to a particular […] and […] may become temporarily or relatively a property in certain situations. (Muses 260; with Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 76–79, 3.6.56)

Hence “it is the question of quality that involves the orator more and more in particular detail” (Muses 266; see 248, 257). Eden likewise accentuates “rhetoric[’s] […] stake in contingency and particularity” (Rhet. Trad. 27n.).

|| 17 See Wakefield (passim). 18 Convened by Eden and Küpper, the readings, debates, during said and further workshops in Berlin and New York City (2014 to 2017) have contributed to the present endeavor in various ways. The author gratefully acknowledges his intellectual and personal debt to the events in the series: Joint Roundtable Seminar on “Tragedy (Sophocles, Aristotle, Nietzsche, Hofmannsthal)”, April 30–May 2, 2014, at Columbia U. Trilateral Workshop—plus the EHESS Paris, spec. JeanMarie Schaeffer—on “The Essay (Plutarch, Seneca, Lotman, Montaigne, Barthes, Musil, Adorno)”, July 2–3, 2015, at FU Berlin. Joint Workshop on “Dialog (Plato, Bruni, Leone Ebreo, Lessing)”, May 22–24, 2016, at Columbia U. Joint Workshop on “The Letter as Fictional and NonFictional Genre (Cicero, Petrarch, Goethe, Arendt)”, June 9–10, 2017, at FU Berlin. 19 Cf. Trimpi’s third part, its précis, the overall synopsis (Muses 241–369; and “Quality” passim).

Inductive Overture | 7

Even so—and especially in an Aristotelian perspective—the latter is seen to always also imply more general (kathólou) issues: Poetry brings out the significance of past events as equity brings out the […] voluntas […] of the lawmaker. As the concept of ‘quality’ informed Aristotle’s discussion of the universal in the Poetics, so his discussion of equity in the Rhetoric turns upon the same consideration. (Trimpi Muses 353)20

Equally with the Stagirite—hence in line with said link between contingency and rhetorical quality—Küpper accentuates: the particular pertaining to the literary text always receives its import only [and first of all] in that it bears the claim of conveying something universal. Along these lines, […] literary texts […] not only say that the world is contingent[;] they also become figurations of what a contingent world signifies. (“Ordnung” 176; trans. dsm)

While not attaining to the latter’s eloquence or elegance, a similar state of play may well hold good for the labors of scholarship. Qua ground swell, every section herein reflects work on contingency— conceptually, methodically, in application. Several of the ensuing chapters were drafted or delivered as separate papers, lectures, essays between 2014 and 2019. Earlier versions of subchapters 2.1 to 2.4 were given on July 21, 2014 as part of a lecture cum seminar entitled “Determinism and Contingency in Antiquity and the Early Modern Age” at FU Berlin, during the international summer school pertaining to the Principles of Cultural Dynamics network (PCD). The author is grateful to the latter’s director, Joachim Küpper, for the possibility to partake in, and speak at, the event. He wishes to thank the program’s administrator, Lisa Münzer, for her dependable support; as well as the student and faculty audience for questions, contributions—notably Jean-Marie Schaeffer. Initial versions of subchapters 3.7 and 4.2 were given on August 2, 2018 as part of a lecture cum seminar entitled “Causality’s Contingency (Machiavelli and Montaigne)” at FU Berlin, during the international summer school pertaining to the PCD network (see above). The author is grateful to Joachim Küpper and Lisa Münzer; and wishes to thank the student audience for questions, contributions— especially Hanna Zoe Trauer and Harel Newman. Earlier versions of subchapters 4.1 and 4.3 were given on November 10, 2018 as a talk entitled “Perchance. The Rhetorical Nexus of Contingency and Quality (by Recourse to Machiavelli and Montaigne)” at the Institute for Cultural Inquiry || 20 See Aristotle (“Poetics” 52–53, 1450b, §6; 58–59, 1451b, §9; Rhet. 144–149, 1374a–b, I.xiii.11– 19); with Trimpi (Muses 53, 53n.; 56–58, 57n.–58n.; 285n.; 293; 304; 344; 351).

8 | Inductive Overture

(ICI, Berlin), during the International Conference “Vielleicht. Formen literarischer Eventualität” (November 9 to 10)—being the tenth annual meeting of the Friedrich Schlegel Graduate School (FSGS, FU Berlin). The author wishes to express his particular gratitude to the latter’s administrative director, Rebecca Mak. Thanks go to the organizers, for the possibility to partake in, and speak at, the event; as well as to the general audience, for questions and contributions— especially Nina Tolksdorf, Simon Godart. An earlier version of subch. 5.1 was given on July 9, 2017 as a talk entitled “‘The Method is the Message’: Blumenberg’s Description in the Face of Contingency and Polysemy” at Utrecht University, during the Annual Meeting of the American Comparative Literature Association (July 6 to 9, 2017). Thanks go to the ACLA, and the panel’s organizer, for the possibility to partake in, and speak at, the event; as well as to the audience, for questions, contributions—especially Sonja Feger, Daniel Rudy Hiller, Karin Krauthausen, Alexander Waszynski. An initial version of subchapter 5.2 was given on June 15, 2018 as a talk entitled “‘Alles voller Definitionen’. Blumenbergs ‘Beschreibungskunst’ als Gegendarstellung” at the Akademie der Wissenschaften Mainz, during the congress “Leistungsbeschreibung. Literarische Strategien bei Hans Blumenberg” (June 14 to 16, 2018). The author is grateful to Ulrich Breuer for the possibility of sharing this tentative attempt at describing the philosopher’s basic and particular modi operandi. He thanks the audience for questions, comments, conversations; especially Sonja Feger, Johannes Endres, Michael McGillen, Daniel Rudy Hiller, Ralf Köhne, and Kazunobu Shimoda. During a Global Humanities Junior Research and Teaching Stay at the Johns Hopkins University (via the PCD network, headed by Joachim Küpper, administrated by Lisa Münzer), an earlier version of chapter 6 was given on October 7, 2015 as a lecture entitled “Contingency and Cynicism in La Celestina” at The Humanities Center (Baltimore, MA). Gratefulness is expressed to its director, Hent de Vries, for the possibility to speak in such a time-honored environment; as well as for his particularly kind introduction. The author wishes to accentuate his appreciation of the dependable assistance provided by the Center’s senior administrative coordinator, Marva Philip. He thanks the audience for questions and contributions—especially Stephen Nichols, Hent de Vries, M. Ali Khan, Leonardo Lisi, and Paula Marchesini. An initial version of chapter 7 was given on June 28, 2018 as a talk entitled “Brutal Latencies. The Crafting of Political Union in Machiavelli’s Mandragola and Shakespeare’s Lucrece with Respect to (Early Modern) Europe”, during the international congress “Europe’s Staging – Staging Europe”, at Innsbruck

Inductive Overture | 9

University, Austria (June 28 to 29, 2018). Thanks go to the organizers for the possibility to speak at the conference; to the audience, for their response. An earlier version of chapter 8 was given on February 9, 2017 as a talk entitled “Otherwise: Rhetorical Techniques of Contradiction”, during the “Inaugural Conference on Concepts of Contradiction in the Humanities (‘Contradiction Studies: Mapping the Field’)”, held at Bremen University (February 9 to 11, 2017). Thanks go to the organizers for the possibility to speak at the congress; as well as to the audience for their response. An initial version of chapter 9 was given on March 18, 2016 as a talk entitled “‘Make Life Art’—An Immoral Imperative” at Harvard University (Cambridge, MA), during the ACLA’s Annual Meeting (March 17 to 20, 2016), within the panel “Life as a Work of Art”, convened by Giulia Radaelli. Thanks go to the organizers, for the possibility to partake in, and speak at, the event; as well as to the general audience, for questions and comments—especially Paula Marchesini. An earlier version of chapter 10 was given on August 20, 2016 as a talk entitled “Life Being Brief: Blumenberg’s Stoic Affinities” at Miami University (Miami, FL), during the workshop “Continental Stoicisms: Stoicism and German Philosophy” (August 18 to 20, 2016). Thanks go to the organizers and audience. A version of subchapters 11.1 and 11.2 was given on February 7, 2017 as a talk entitled “Blumenbergs Rhetorik” at the University of Duisburg–Essen and the invitation of Jörg Wesche. The author is particularly grateful to the latter; and thanks the audience for questions, comments—especially Julia Amslinger. An earlier version of subchapter 11.3 was given on October 4, 2019 as a talk entitled “‘Clairaudience’. Blumenberg’s Poetic Hermeneutics of Fontane’s Subtlety”, during the 43rd annual conference of the German Studies Association (Portland, OR), as part of a tripartite session on “Fontane at 200” (October 4 to 6, 2019). The author wishes to thank the organizers; the panel’s respondent, Lynne Tatlock, and its moderator, Peter Pfeiffer; the participants, especially Stefan Bronner; as well as the general audience, for questions and comments. An initial version of chapter 13 was given on November 12, 2016 as a talk entitled “Virtuosity and Effectuality. Literary Techniques of Manipulation” at the Institute for Cultural Inquiry (ICI, Berlin), during the International Conference “téchnē. Techniken und Technologien des Literarischen” (November 11 to 12, 2016)—being the eighth annual meeting of the Friedrich Schlegel Graduate School (FSGS, FU Berlin). The author wishes to express his particular gratitude to the latter’s administrative director, Rebecca Mak. Thanks go to the organizers, for the possibility to partake in, and speak at, the event; as well as to the general audience, especially Lisa Müller.

10 | Inductive Overture

Between 2014 and 2016, the author received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) as a member of the DramaNet project at Freie Universität Berlin, headed by Joachim Küpper. Currently (2020), he holds a research position funded by the Fritz Thyssen Stiftung. The author wishes to thank Agnes Kloocke (DramaNet), Lisa Münzer (Principles of Cultural Dynamics), and Rebecca Mak (Friedrich Schlegel Graduate School) for their reliable assistance at FU Berlin. As in the past, de Gruyter has proven a most dependable partner in publication. The present monograph is particularly indebted to the aid and advice provided by Ulrike Krauß, Christine Henschel, and Simone Hausmann. In September 2019, the author was able to discuss parts of the present project with Kathy Eden at Columbia University. He wishes to accentuate his particular appreciation for her generous investment of time, and pertinent counsel. This work would not exist without the manifold ways in which dedicated parents are capable of providing support to the next generation. With respect thereto, the author expresses his profound gratitude. Not even the most experienced orator could adequately articulate this study’s debt to Küpper’s liberal teaching, politic guidance, expedient comments, and exceptional diligence in reading the manuscripts of talks, essays, and the present monograph in its entirety. The likelihood of errata increases with the quantity of data: the remaining are the author’s, who—being human—requests the reader’s indulgence.

| General Introduction

� Concerning Determinism and Contingency ἀρχὴ γὰρ τὸ ὅτι[.] —Aristotle (NE 12, 1095b, I.iv.7)1

By limning the consequences of a most basic (epistemic) choice—fate or fortune— this chapter tenders the general framework of the matter under consideration. Simultaneously serving as an initial overview, it provides a (thematic) sketch of the conceptual, methodical, and applicative studies to follow.

�.� Chance and Providence (Generally and Particularly) in incerto iudicium est, fatone res mortalium et necessitate immutabili an forte volvantur. Quippe sapientissimos veterum quique sectas eorum aemulantur diversos reperies[.] —Tacitus (Annals. IV–XII. 188–190, VI.xxii)2

The question as to whether events are (wholly) determined or fortuitous remains a perennial problem to lifeforms of a certain consciousness—both from a universal perspective, and with regard to specific cases. In one way or another, any being of a sustained recollection—as is simultaneously capacitated for reflecting on, and extrapolating, potential causalities—will not infrequently face (be affected by, or forced to confront) this conundrum.3 �� 1 “the starting-point or first principle is the fact that a thing is so” (NE 13, 1095b, I.iv.7). Cf. the trans. by Rolfes/Bien: “Denn wir gehen hier von dem ‘Daß’ aus” (Nikomach. Ethik 5, 1095b, I.ii). From a rhetorical perspective, Trimpi accentuates: “We begin, always, with the an sit” (Muses 361). See Waldenfels (175); von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 641; 662–663). With Pascal, Blumenberg urges “feste[s] und unbeirrte[s] Hinsehen auf die faktische Situation des Menschen” (“Recht des Scheins” 421). Cf. Schaeffer: “admit where we stand” (“Literary Studies” 271). Küpper: “das Sagen des Faktischen” (“Ordnung” 209). Aquinas stresses: “it is obvious that, if all particular things vanished, their universals could not endure” (250, III.i.75.6; with 253, III.i.75.13). 2 “judgement wavers[:] [i]s the revolution of human things governed by fate and changeless necessity, or by accident? You will find the wisest of the ancients, and the disciples attached to their tenets, at complete variance” (Annals. IV–XII. 189–191, VI.xxii). See Pfligersdorffer (1–2). 3 “Man cannot live without having thoughts about the first things” (Strauss Natural Right 91). “All men naturally [‘φύσει’] desire knowledge [‘τοῦ εἰδέναι’]. […] other animals live by impressions [‘φαντασίαις’] and memories [‘μνήμαις’], and have but a small share of experience [‘ἐμπειρίας’]; but the human race lives also by art [‘τέχνῃ’] and reasoning [‘λογισμοῖς’]. It is from memory that men acquire experience […][;] it is through experience that men acquire science and art […]. Art is produced when from many notions of experience a single universal [‘μία Open Access. © 2020 DS Mayfield, published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-002

14 | Determinism and Contingency

For particular results might presently be sans ready and reasonable explanation as to their coming about. On occasion, this status may (seem to) be permanent—at least as far as the human eye and mind are concerned. Even so, the knowing of causatives—be they definitive or probable—is not merely a matter of curiosity, but often of vital import.4 By and large, it will be beyond doubt that the (ultimate) grounds of certain events are not always (directly) intelligible. Yet there may well be matters whose workings remain inaccessible not only to a given lifeform, but to any—whether factual or simply conceivable. Sheer chance is a possibility indeed (or theory). Along the lines of said infinite query, one might pose the ensuing experiment of thought. Should there be gods (or one thereof), are they (else he, she, it) causally omniscient; if so, only in hindsight, or also regarding the future; and would the latter necessarily translate into a total predetermination of all affairs.5 May a god be (deemed) subject to time at all (or to aught, for that matter), without violating other assumptions about the divine; and if decidedly supratemporal, can a deity even conceive of sequential relations—and could there be something that such a being cannot do.6 In more down-to-earth terms, the word ‘accident’ is regularly applied to cases where the cause is known and certain, but a particular effect was not—or is said to not have been—willed, by some or all of the concerned. Seeing that love and death are taken to dominate human lives, traffic-related incidents or ineffective birth control might be considered instances of momentaneous evidence. As to the former, a blend of circumstantial conditions—be they ultimately uncontrollable (seasonal precipitation, limited visibility, lightning), or feasibly

|| καθόλου’] judgement [‘ὑπόληψις’] is formed with regard to like objects” (Aristotle Met. 1–9. 2–5, 980a–981a, I.i.1–5; see “Post. An.” 256–261, 100a–b, II.xix). “Thiere […] haben […] bloß anschauliche Vorstellungen, keine Begriffe, keine Reflexion, sind daher an die Gegenwart gebunden, können nicht die Zukunft berücksichtigen” (Schopenhauer WWV I. 213, II.27). Cf. subch. 3.3; the onset of ch. 4; as well as 12, herein. 4 See Aristotle: “we aim at understanding, and […] never reckon that we understand a thing till we can give an account of its ‘how and why’” (Phys. 1–4. 129, 194b, II.iii). 5 Cf. “we ascribe to the gods the capacity to see all things” (Aristotle “Poetics” 81, 1454b, §15). 6 Heuristically, see Normore’s indispensable synopses of affine speculations (“Future” 363; 377–378; 381; passim; “Divine” 16). Cf. Boh (“Omnipotence” 194–195; and spec. 207n.); Grant (539); Korolec (639). Withal, the—decidedly human—principle of (non)contradiction need not be applicable to anything otherworldly (and likely does not hold good). See Blumenberg’s cultured caveat: “Es kann vernünftig sein, nicht bis zum Letzten vernünftig zu sein” (Arbeit 180–181; cf. Dierse 296). As to defining a “supreme being” (wholly) ex negativo (here with reference to Aristotle): “not subject to conditions of time, place, matter, dimension, or change of consciousness” (Wicksteed/Cornford xvi; with xxx). Cf. subch. 4.4, herein.

Chance and Providence | 15

maneuver-, manageable (moving obstacles, leaping animals, defective parts, inapt maintenance)—could chance to coincide with incompetent, imprudent, inattentive, irresponsible conducting on the part of some or all of the involved. Regarding mammalian intercourse, the humanoid variants may appear to prioritize other uses than the reproductive (whether social or hedonistic); partly also since offspring might not be desired or advisable—at a given point; or at all. When nature has its way even so (as it will), the term in question tends to be employed, although nothing was ‘accidental’, strictly speaking. The word merely signals that the regular biological outcome had not been intended—or even been unwanted—by one or both of the agents implicated.7 Societally, their unwillingness to acknowledge, and so legitimize, said effect may have far-reaching consequences; especially regarding processes of naming (hence communal prestige) and heredity (the material legacy, in particular)—to say nothing of the surgical recourses taken by some.8 Yet as concerns causal relations, naught is in the dark. For the requisite exchange of fluids must have been performed by respectively capacitated beings; and at a fruitful time.9

|| 7 As is his habit, Freud takes pleasure in having it both ways: “wenn man den Zufall für unwürdig hält, über unser Schicksal zu entscheiden, ist es bloß ein Rückfall in die fromme Weltanschauung […]. Wir vergessen […] gern, daß eigentlich alles an unserem Leben Zufall ist, von unserer Entstehung an durch das Zusammentreffen von Spermatozoon und Ei, Zufall, der darum doch an der Gesetzmäßigkeit und Notwendigkeit der Natur seinen Anteil hat, bloß der Beziehung zu unseren Wünschen und Illusionen entbehrt” (“Leonardo” 210). See Rorty (Contingency 22); Vogt (679, 679n.–681n.). For a Medieval take, cf. Küpper (“Medical” 119–120). 8 See Aristotle (Rhet. 48–49, 1360b, I.v.5); Strauss (Natural Right 103–104; 148). To some extent, the historical institution of marriage (pre)determines, and so protects, against human willfulness—especially as far as the male part is concerned (mater certissima). What occurs outside said socio-moral confines tends to be considered accessory, hence sans entitlement to a full (or any) communal status (depending on the resp. culture). The fact that the latter may still be granted post factum signals the ultimate contingency and precarity of nominal sanctions (incl. the possible dissolution of wedlock, and adoption). Generally, see Küpper (“Moderne” 136–137, 136n.; “Fiacre” 264–265; “modernidade” 207–208); and Beecher: “Women always know who their own children are, men do not. The male mind seems to come equipped with a genetic disinclination to invest in offspring who do not pass into futurity some of his own genetic coding, at least not without negotiation. Women, by contrast, are genetically endowed to seek the highest caliber of sperm in order to gain for their offspring every selective advantage in a hostile and competitive world” (110). See subch. 7.2.3, herein. 9 “the semen is not yet potentially a man; for it must further undergo a change in some other medium” (Aristotle Met. 1–9. 451, 1049a, IX.vii.3); “it is not a matter of chance what springs from a given sperm, since an olive comes from such a[…] one, and a man from such another” (Phys. 1–4. 145, 196a, II.iv; with “Parts of Animals” 72–75, 641b, I.i); “[a hu]man [being, ‘ἄνθρωπος’] is begotten by [a hu]man [being]” (Phys. 1–4. 165, 198a, II.vii; likewise Met. 1–9. 338–339, 1032a,

16 | Determinism and Contingency

Perhaps this—hardly infrequent—sample may be taken to a more kathólou plane. There are such as maintain that the existence of humankind is due to, and determined by, the will of some supreme being(s). Others hold that said mammal is ‘simply there’; hence could just as well not be. Life in general might obtain by virtue of sheer chance, rather than being down to divine design. Withal, not few would fain have been wanted (or even chosen) by a celestial originator.10 The infinite query as to whether humans be a fluke of Nature, a stroke of (bad) luck, or created and determined—followed by the whys and wherefores—has a corollary. It involves not simply this characteristically narcissistic species—along with the world it has made its own, and for itself. The universe is implicated, as well. Was it planned and well-wrought—as a beautifully ordered, eternal cosmos; else with a (fixed) beginning and end.11 Is it the result of an accidental—perhaps even ultimately inexplicable—implosion, clash, deviation of atoms. Terminologically, the various schools of (natural) philosophers or scientists differ significantly over time—and to date. Yet the basic problémata propelling their countless and sundry investigations do not seem to have changed (much). Theoretical and practical disciplines as diverse as chemistry, physics, biology, geology, archeology, astronomy, theology, philosophy, anthropology, history, literature (et multa caetera) have felt called upon to approach—often, to try and answer—these fundamental questions from their specific angles; and in their several languages (be they scientific or speculative): how, why, or whereto does (respectively can) the world and humankind exist (at all).12 Such or related queries are downright vital for one discipline in particular. This is the gauge [more literally, the measure, yardstick] for every [variety of] moral philosophy: it must […] render comprehensible, how we cope with that which we

|| VII.vii.3; 348–349, 1033b, VII.viii.8; 352–353, 1034b, VII.ix.5; 456–457, 1049b, IX.viii.5; “Met. 10– 14” 129, 107a, XII.iii.2; 135, 1070b, XII.iv.8). The dictum is something of a keynote throughout the corpus; as well as in the Peripatetic tradition. Cf. e.g. Alexander of Aphrodisias (46 with 182, §169.21, VI; 46 plus 182–183, §170.2–3, VI; 71 and 198, §193.10, XXIII); also Bröcker (259–260). 10 “contingent beings require the existence of something necessary and therefore eternal” (Strauss Natural Right 89). See Küpper on the view that “‘things just happened’” (“Ordnung” 173n.); also Mayfield (Artful 142; 206n.). 11 On the fundamental variance between Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian conceptualizations of the world, see Blumenberg: “kosmisierte Vorsehung und eschatologische Heilserwartung sind innere Widersprüche” (“Teleologie” 675). Without a Creator (God), the given cosmos is sans beginning and end; or else, onsets and expirations are conceived of as pertaining to an iterative, unending cycle (as in the Stoic ekpýrosis)—with the seasonal qua model. 12 As to the latter, cf. Blumenberg (Beschreibung 511); plus subchs. 5.1.1, 5.2.1. For the probable difference between ‘natural’ and ‘agential’ contingency, see subchs. 3.2, 3.4, 3.5, herein.

Freedom of the Otherwise | 17

experience as the agency countering ours [‘die Gegeninstanz unseres Handelns’]; hence how we can manage to live with chance[—]with that which strikes us[;] and, harder yet, with that which we ourselves are. (Sommer “Zufall” 112; trans. dsm)13

2.2 Freedom of the Otherwise even among chance events [‘τῶν ἀπὸ τύχης’] we find most awesome those which seem to have happened by design [‘ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες’][.] —Aristotle (“Poetics” 62–63, 1452a, §10)

Thetically, many may wish to maintain that they are by (some) design, hence necessary. Yet in descriptive terms, this cannot be certain—at least not to everyone. The universe and man are contingent—to the extent that they need not be; or no longer; nor specifically in this way.14 Everything could also (and always) be not at all, or else—and perhaps is so (already).15 For what is time, anyway. This reasonable—since not ultimately resolvable—hesitation may conduce to theorizing, hypotheses; and proffer possibilities for perceiving and (re)describing given matters from various perspectives: a conditio sine qua non for Skepticism and rhetoric alike. It renders freedom of thought and choice conceivable. In such a view, even somebody’s opting for total determination would be subject to contingency: it might as well be else (in time). Nor is one bound by past impressions, notions, convictions. Beliefs are provisional; persuasion possible.16 As hinted, that humanmost of queries—a potential liberty of choice or will— is plausibly implicated in the issue at hand. If all things were (pre)destined—any wish, word, work inevitable—there neither would, nor could, be such freedom.

|| 13 His “Phänomenologie der Kontingenz” (“Zufall” 97–101; here 99) will be of heuristic value. 14 Such as would instinctively balk at said possibility might (not) wish to be reminded of the irrefutability that—as of the twentieth century—this conceited species has acquired the means for utterly eradicating itself not only from, but along with, the face of this earth. “Die Menschheit hat sich selbst in die Lage gebracht, sich […] zugrunde richten zu können” (Amslinger 181). 15 Diachronically, the question of determinism or chance has been undecidable—any given answer having been subject to contingency. 16 This paragraph condenses the present study’s condition of possibility, as well as its descriptive foci. The first and foremost general quality to obtain via training in oratory is a capacity for arguing ‘also on the other side(s)’—the qualified formula being Quintilian’s (“in utramque partem vel in plures”, Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.2). See subch. 8.4, herein. While utilized to differing (and nominally impartial) ends, a Skeptic comparably encounters (or rather, aims at finding) the complementary claim to any assertion, thereby to reach a probable equivalence of their relative force (isosthéneia)—hence attain to some (or a certain) mental balance (epoché). Cf. Küpper (“Recusatio der Moderne” 406n.; 410n.; 416, 416n.); Pawlita (111–112, 111n.; 134).

18 | Determinism and Contingency

Even should the latter demonstrably be the case, it may well seem preferable to opt for not seeing it so—considering the consequences.17 For every deed would then be done of necessity, voiding any form of personal accountability.18 Certain ethical notions—responsibility, restraint, regulation, reproof—could not but be meaningless.19 The same as reining it in, granting oneself a liberum arbitrium is a condition of possibility for humanitas.20 This choice would involve not having to take the question of fate or free will as so facile a dichotomy.21 Should some sort of finalistic Providence be presumed, beings of this proud species are still at liberty to refrain from passively resigning themselves thereto—even, or especially, should their every effort still be futile.22 By contrast, if all is perceived as happenstance, the totality (or tyranny) of such liberty might lead to sheer irresolution—hence a form of stagnation not altogether unlike acquiescing in one’s allegedly determined lot.23 Be the choice as it may (by chance or design): the qualified, hence equitable, view is an option one is also free to adopt. If prone to believe in the absolutism of fate, there will still be no need to act upon said assumption unswervingly—even should all deviation be in vain, being part and parcel of one’s destiny.

|| 17 See Alexander of Aphrodisias (69–70, §191.2–26, XXI); in Sharples’ politic words: “It would be less dangerous for men to believe wrongly that they had the power of choice when all was in fact in accordance with fate, than for them to believe that all is determined when in fact it is not” (35, as to XXI). D. Laertius logs a similar stance for Epicurus: “It were better […] to accept the legends of the gods [‘τῷ περὶ θεῶν μύθῷ’] than to bow beneath that yoke of destiny [‘εἱμαρμένῃ’] which the natural philosophers have imposed” (Lives II. 658–659, X.133–134). Smith glosses: “He could hardly have made his point more forcefully than that” (xxxiv). See subch. 10.2.4, herein. 18 It cannot be excluded that some might choose to call this the highest ‘freedom’: not indeed ‘for’ anything—but ‘from’ answerability. Then again, the latter is only conceivable ex negativo. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 66n.; 214, 214n.; incl. further references). 19 Blumenberg refers to “die vernünftige Unerträglichkeit der Vorsehung” (“Grenzfälle” 70). On the (Aristotelian) nexus of (deliberate) “action” and “responsibility” (or “ethics”), see Küpper (“Ordnung” 214; trans. dsm). 20 Cf. and contrast Strauss (Natural Right 130; 132–133). As far as assessable, the only irrefutable proof of free choice (or will) is the potential verifiability of the datum that some may indeed seem capable of choosing to accept utter determinism as true. Withal, human animals are evidently capacitated to think (or dream) up the notion of a liberum arbitrium. Irrespective of (belief in) its ‘actual’ obtainment, said process and sheer conceivability will be a performative act of liberty. 21 Not to mention the fact that “willing and necessity can coincide” (Korolec 638). 22 Ancient Greco-Roman and Germanic mythologies offer countless variations on such a state of play; in all likelihood, most other cultural contexts will, as well. 23 Generally, cf. Blumenberg on an “Absolutismus der Freiheit” (GKW III. 709). In their extreme forms, the completely opposed models for explaining the world—as utterly (pre)determined or contingent—can thus lead to similar results; at least on the surface, if not in fact.

Freedom of the Otherwise | 19

Likewise for preferring “naked contingency” (Blumenberg Arbeit 681; trans. dsm): one cannot be externally constrained to abstain from self-determination— deliberately limiting that manifest freedom to do as one (might) please.24 Ultimately, there may well be cases where fatum and fors seem (to become) indistinguishable in effect: for instance, when two or more—otherwise separate— causal chains or motivations convene in fact (along Aristotelian lines); while their conjoint result appears to be accidentally the same as in the (then hypothetical) case of their not having come across one another. Sardonically, Hawthorne’s speaker gives precisely such a coincidence: my fortune somewhat resembled that of a person who should entertain an idea of committing suicide, and, altogether beyond his hopes, meet with the good hap to be murdered. (41, ‘The Custom-House’)25

Aristotle offers a basically comparable account for what evinces a tendency to be referred to as (the semblance of) poetic justice: fearful and pitiable matters […] arise above all when events occur contrary to expectation [‘παρὰ τὴν δόξαν’] yet on account of one another. The awesome [‘τὸ (…) θαυμαστὸν’] will be maintained in this way more than through show of chance and fortune [‘ἀπὸ τοῦ αὐτομάτου καὶ τῆς τύχης’], because even among chance events [‘καὶ τῶν ἀπὸ τύχης’] we find most awesome [‘θαυμασιώτατα δοκεῖ’] those which seem to [‘φαίνεται’] have happened by design [‘ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες’] (as when Mitys’ statue at Argos killed the murderer of Mitys, by falling on him as he looked at it: such things seem [‘ἔοικε’] not to occur randomly [‘οὐκ εἰκῇ γίνεσθαι’]). And so, such plots [‘μύθους’] are bound [‘ἀνάγκη’] to be finer [‘καλλίους’]. (“Poetics” 62–63, 1452a, §9)26

|| 24 On “contingency” qua “freedom or liberation from the pressure of regulations”—and as “the enabling structure for pleasure”—see Küpper (“Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm). Plausibly, Blumenberg asks: “Kann man wissen, daß man allmächtig ist, ohne sich darin zu erproben?” (“Grenzfälle” 72). Whatever the answer, it will have to involve a potential capacity for consciously curbing one’s putatively absolute authority—rather than experiencing another’s act of doing so. The latter is the problem of Genesis 3 (and of the Old Testament in its entirety); a purposive, if not premeditated relinquishment of almightiness the conditio sine qua non of the Gospels. Yet Paul’s Pharisaic retractatio (hence the Church he founded) successfully restores the previous view of a deity diffident as to its omnipotence. 25 The above may seem to be an additionally overdetermined variant of the ensuing, probably somewhat less uncommon cases: “the arrow hit one who stood by and not the man aimed at; or, one who frequented a certain place was the only one who did not go there on a certain occasion, while those who went there then for the first time met their death. All such instances appear to be examples of good fortune [‘εὐτυχήματα’]” (Aristotle Rhet. 58–59, 1362a, I.v.17)—depending on the perspective, (as a matter) of course. Cf. subch. 2.4, herein. 26 The paronomasía of “ἔοικε”, “εἰκῇ” will be performative—spec. as paired with “ἀνάγκη” in

20 | Determinism and Contingency

While said structure is not unlikely to feature myriad refunctionalizations, its most pleasurable version in the German tongue comes from Schopenhauer (as one would expect).27 His variant imagines someone who, during an attempted break-in, by a coincidence, meets with an accident, e.g. in the pigsty, into which he enters forcibly at night to abduct its usual denizen[;] in the latter’s stead, he encounters [another animal], whose guide has stopped in at this tavern [that] evening[—a] bear, approaching him with open arms. (“Grundprobleme” 458, I.v; trans. dsm)28

2.3 Discursive Tendencies Dicet aliquis: ‘Quid mihi prodest philosophia, si fatum est? Quid prodest, si deus rector est? Quid prodest, si casus imperat? […]’. Quicquid est ex his, […] vel si omnia haec sunt, philosophandum est[.] —Seneca (Ep. 1–65. 104, XVI.4–5)29

|| their immediate vicinity. Cf. “the chief cause of awe” is “the irrational [‘τὸ ἄλογον’]”—and said effect “is pleasurable [‘τὸ δὲ θαυμαστὸν ἡδύ’]” (“Poetics” 122–123, 1460a, §24). See Fuhrmann (Dichtungstheorie 35; with 41; 76). Also Oesterle: “in the Poetics, contingency is shown to be necessary for tragedy” (10); plus Küpper’s qualifications (“Mimesis” 44). Cf. Bubner: “Das Zufällige überrascht, weil es wie absichtlich aussieht” (Geschichtsprozesse 36). On the (regular) nexus of the álogon and chance in Aristotle, see subch. 3.3. Rhetorically, it will often be needful (sc. expedient) to pass off accidents as actually by design (cf. Rhet. 100–101, 1367b, I.ix.32; with Freese “Intro.” xxxviii–xxxix). See subchs. 3.1, 3.4, 4.2; plus the onsets of chs. 4, 7, 8, 13, herein. 27 Cf. “Der andere große Rhetoriker der Philosophie”—besides his self-styled student—“ist […] Schopenhauer” (Blumenberg Die nackte Wahrheit 30). “Nietzsche ist ein eminent rhetorischer Philosoph” (Realität 57; the former with Nietzsche “Unzeitgemäße [KSA 1]” 335–427, III.1–8). 28 “[d]er beim Versuch eines Einbruchs, durch einen Zufall, verunglückt, z.B. in dem Schweinestall, in den er bei Nacht einbricht, um dessen gewöhnlichen Bewohner abzuführen, statt seiner den Bären, dessen Führer am Abend in diesem Wirthshause eingekehrt ist, vorfindet, welcher ihm mit offenen Armen entgegenkommt”. Needless to say, little else will be the natural case with respect to ‘animal encounters’ at large: more often than not, someone gets ‘embraced’. See Mayfield (“Philosophical Animal” passim; spec. 62–69); with Blumenberg, for the humane alternative (Löwen 89). Generally, cf. Aristotle (Phys. 1–4. 158–159, 197b, II.vi); subch. 3.4, herein. 29 “Perhaps someone will say: ‘How can philosophy help me, if Fate exists? Of what avail is philosophy, if God rules the universe? Of what avail is it, if Chance governs everything? […]’. Whether the truth […] lies in one or in all of these views, we must be philosophers” (Ep. 1–65. 105, XVI.4–5). More literally: ‘one is to philosophize’. Cf. Pfligersdorffer (3n.).

Discursive Tendencies | 21

While it will typically be possible to give the fundamental ground swell of most (historical) discourses as far as the universal question of providence or chance is concerned, it is almost always a matter of general leanings, rather than a categorical choice; and even where the latter might be asserted, allowances toward the other extreme are usually tendered between the lines (if malgré soi).30 Hence a dominantly determinist discourse is likely to make tacit concessions to contingency, and vice versa. Not infrequently, such may result in a certain interlacing, where one tendency is used to explicate the other—resulting in something like a circular dynamism perpetually fueling itself. This quasi complementarity may be exemplified by recourse to telltale claims on the part of Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. The first declares: nothing […] is ABSOLUTELY accidental[,] however; but even the most contingent [event] is merely [something] necessary having taken the long way around[.] (PP I. 215; trans. dsm)31

For the determinist, chance is but a detour—and one of man’s understanding, at that. By contrast, the later philosopher—an avid reader of the former—observes: The human [being] of the highest intellectuality and strength feels up to every contingency [‘Zufalle’], but also entirely within the snowflakes of the coincidences [‘Zufälle’] therein; he denies the rationality in every sequence[,] and tauntingly brings to light the accidental [‘Zufällige’] about it. (KSA 11. 501–502, 34[243]; trans. dsm)32

Taking his liberties with reason, Nietzsche abstains from explaining chance away. Using the flexibility of contingency against (strict) logic, that thinker of || 30 As to Aristotle in this regard, see Sorabji (Necessity 3, on Th. Gomperz). 31 “Nun ist aber nichts ABSOLUT zufällig; sondern auch das Zufälligste ist nur ein auf entfernterem Wege herangekommenes Notwendiges” (PP I. 215; with “Grundprobleme” 394, I.iii). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 108n.); generally, Sommer (“Zufall” 100). To avoid confusion with the temporal sense, the initial “Now” is not trans. above. Schopenhauer’s declaration is clearly marked as a rebuttal of the opposite view: “Nun”, “aber”; plus the superlative (“das Zufälligste”), as modified by the comparative (“entfernterem”). One might inquire whether determinism is only possible ex negativo. The literal rendering of the complex phrase referring to the detour would be: “having come near on [sc. via] a more remote way” (trans. dsm). 32 “Der Mensch der höchsten Geistigkeit und Kraft fühlt sich jedem Zufalle gewachsen, aber auch ganz in den Schneeflocken der Zufälle darin; er leugnet die Vernünftigkeit in jedem Nacheinander und zieht das Zufällige daran mit Spott ans Licht”. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 358n.). As regards the wor(l)dplay likely to be involved, see König on “the relation of the verb ‘zufallen’ (to ‘fall to’ someone) to the German word for ‘accident’” (87; infinitized; his context concerns Szondi). In the above, Nietzsche’s vivid evocation of ‘falling’ snowflakes—all forever unlike one another—may well be outperforming the Epicurean imagery concerning the otherwise regular rain of atoms, with only the slightest deviation (clinamen). See the ensuing gloss.

22 | Determinism and Contingency

deviance emphasizes the enduring remainder of any equation (as it were).33 For, despite its diachronic (and increasingly zealous) attempts at mathematizing the world, no form of scientism has been—and probably none will ever be—able to dissolve the world into numbers (much less ceaseless sequences of 1s and 0s). A ‘capacity for facing any contingency’ liberates humankind to design, craft, and ultimately determine its own world: The immense mass of the accidental [‘Zufälligem’] contradictory disharmonious idiotic in the current world of man points to the future: seen from the future, this is its [sc. humankind’s] currently necessary field of work, where it may create, organize and harmonize. — Likewise in outer space[.] (KSA 11. 209, 26[228]; trans. dsm)34

What may (still) seem contingent in advancing will—likely, to all appearances— have been turned into necessities in hindsight. Chaos is a chance (not to say, cháris); every crisis a kairós.35

|| 33 There is an Epicurean weft, as a matter of course. On slight atomic deviation, cf. Lucretius (112–119, 2.216–293); spec. “at times quite uncertain [‘incerto’] and [in] uncertain places, they swerve a little [‘depellere paulum’] from their course […]. For if they were not apt to incline [‘quod nisi declinare solerent’], all would fall downwards like raindrops through the profound void, no collisions would take place […]: thus nature would never have produced anything” (112–113, 2.218–219, 2.221–224). On said “theory of the swerve (παρέγκλισις, clinamen, declinatio, inclinatio) of atoms”, see Smith’s gloss: “Lucr[etius]’s account […] is the fullest […] we have. Epicurus, influenced above all by Aristotle, rejected the determinism of Democritus and believed in the freedom of the individual will, and the theory of the atomic swerve was designed to explain free will” (112n.–113n.). For harsh criticism of Epicurus and the “swerve [‘de via deducat’]”, see Cicero (“De fato” 212–215, IX.18; with 214n.–215n.; 216–219, X.21–XI.23; 242–245, XX.47–48; De Fin. 20– 23, I.vi.19; 30–31, I.viii.28; also “De Nat. Deorum” 64, I.xxiv.66, “concursu quodam fortuito”; 70, I.xxvi.73, “de inclinatione atomorum”). In the latter, it is supposed that “Epicurus” construed (or ‘found’) this “swerve” (“declinare paululum”), in order to ensure human agency (else “nihil fore in nostra potestate”); hence as “a device to escape from determinism [‘invenit quo modo necessitatem effugeret’]” (“De Nat. Deorum” 66–67, I.xxv.69; with “De fato” 216–217, X.22). Cf. also Noller (pasim; spec. 30–33). Generally, see subchs. 3.2, 4.4, 10.2.4, 11.1.1, and 11.1.3, herein. 34 “Die ungeheure Masse von Zufälligem Widerspruch Disharmonischem Blödsinnigem in der jetzigen Menschen-Welt weist hin auf die Zukunft: es ist, von der Zukunft aus gesehen, das ihr jetzt nothwendige Arbeits-Feld, wo sie schaffen, organisiren und harmonisiren kann. — Ebenso im Weltall”. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 358, 358n.). The second term in Nietzsche’s asyndetic enumeration is actually already a noun. The above rendering gives it as a nominalized adjective for reasons of euphony only. Withal, it cannot be excluded that the philosopher is also making a semantic pun (if not a point), since—in the sequence given—the very word “contradiction” is also morphologically the odd one out. For he might as well have used ‘Widersprüchlichem’. 35 Cf. chs. 7 (spec. 7.2.2–7.2.3) and 13.1, herein.

Conceptual Précis | 23

Ultimately, it is ‘poietic’—sensu lato et etymologico—acts as transform in- or accidents into something deemed humanly expedient (at a given point in time).36 As above, Nietzsche’s accent tends to highlight the diachronically dependable ties of contingency with a concept(ion) of the future: Viewed forward[,] all our events may seem like nothing but the concord of chance [‘Zufall’] and nonsense: in retrospect[,] I for my part cannot any longer make out aught of either as regards my life. (KSA 11. 652, 40[46]; trans. dsm)37

Looking back, one is free to focus on ‘roads not taken’—or on the fact that one happens to have come by some indeed.38 Among the sundry benefits of hindsight will be the possibility to simply redescribe every accident as necessary—whereby this quotational excursus may seem to have arrived at its Schopenhauerian onset. If this be so, it is with a decisive difference. For Nietzsche characteristically stresses human agency: not universal—but self-determination. To say naught of contingency’s necessarily being subject to itself: hence perchance both at once.39

2.4 Conceptual Précis Is the idea of chance merely a function of our ignorance? Is there room for free choice of the will? For unactualised possibilities? For the idea of things being up to us? —Sorabji (“backgrounds” 16)40

|| 36 See chs. 3, 7, 9, herein. 37 “Vorwärts gesehn mag sich all unser Geschehen nur wie die Einmüthigkeit von Zufall und Unsinn ausnehmen: rückwärts gesehn weiß ich für mein Theil an meinem Leben nichts von Beidem mehr ausfindig zu machen” (KSA 11. 652; with 55, 25[158]). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 358–359, 358n.); subch. 4.4; and Bubner: “In der Retrospektive hat sich das Kontingente zum Sinnvollen gewandelt. […] Jeder Erzähler neigt dazu, den […] Ereignissen eine Logik zu unterlegen, die die Eingängigkeit und Überzeugungskraft der Erzählung sichert” (Geschichtsprozesse 45). 38 See Frost’s resp. poem (‘The Road Not Taken’, 105; spec. v.1–3, 14–16, 19–20). The answer to the dilemma of its lines 2 and 3 (“And sorry I could not travel both / And be one traveler, long I stood”) is vicariousness: letting others take the alternative route(s) in one’s stead; resp. delegating them to do so—thereby to also experience these by proxy, spec. in narrative or poetic form (“I shall be telling this”, 105, v.16). The work as a whole may thus provide a mediated familiarity with solitary living (see 105, v.19)—to such as prefer the herd. 39 While necessity cannot be else, contingency itself is contingent: it may be otherwise(d)— counting necessary. See subch. 3.7, herein. Cf. Marquard: “die menschliche Wirklichkeit ist überwiegend das Zufällige, das, was auch anders sein kann. Aber wenn es anders sein ‘kann’, dann – wenn auch zufälligerweise – ‘ist’ es häufig auch anders: die zufällige Wirklichkeit – zufällig – ist vielfach so und auch noch anders” (Gewaltenteilung 87). Necessary, say. 40 The context of said and further queries being ‘Boethius’ inclusion’ of “a whole range of topics

24 | Determinism and Contingency

To review these exploratory remarks, it may seem expedient to gather some of the concepts strewn about; and, at least provisionally, render them necessary by interrelation with further terms in use. Determinist tendencies may be signaled by the words fate, lot, destiny, Providence (typically a Christianization of Stoic prónoia), et caetera.41 Contingency has countless aspects and (corresponding) names, as well: coincidence, fortuity, accident, happenstance, hazard, inter alia. While it seems to have known but one goddess of Chance (Týche, Fortuna, plus the abstract terms autómaton, casus, fors), Ancient polytheism regularly refers to the personifications of (usually) three Fates: Moirai in Greek, Parcae in Latin, the Norns in Germanic lore (hence the ‘Wyrd Sisters’ in Shakespeare).42 The (Medieval) Wheel of Fortune will be a mixed image, blending both bents: one might rise by chance; but the downward movement is inevitable. Whereas Pagan gods were mostly held subject to fatum themselves, monotheistic religions tend to make their Deity either a (total) determinator, providentially meting out each and every body’s destiny; or an instantiation of utter contingency, in that His—humanly inaccessible—volition simply decides at whim.43 While occasionally tying in with folklore as expedient coloring, philosophers have generally tended to systematize (in an attempt at controlling) the otherwise unruly. Most notably in this respect, one encounters the terms týche, autómaton, symbebekós, dynatón, endechómenon (inter alia) as related to the question of chance sensu lato in the Stagirite.44 His main examples concerning the accidental involve an involuntary meeting of two (and potentially more) causal chains: for instance, a treasure has

|| […] at issue between earlier Stoic determinists and Aristotelians” (“backgrounds” 16). Neither only between them; nor will said ‘issue-taking’ ever cease, while humankind subsists (as such). 41 For his purposes, Sorabji defines “determinism” as “the view that whatever happens has all along been necessary, that is, fixed or inevitable” (Necessity ix). 42 See Shakespeare (Mac 139, I.iii.32; plus 126; 128n.; 139n.). With Simek (306–307, s.v. ‘Nornen’). Naturally, many cultures share the idea that (all) things are predetermined by certain powers; that nothing is (actually) accidental; that one cannot escape one’s destiny; etc. Memorably, Tacitus observes: “Ceterum plurimis mortalium non eximitur, quin primo cuiusque ortu ventura destinentur” (Annals. IV–XII. 190, VI.xxii). 43 As will be the case occasionally, this tautology is deliberate. Concerning the above, see Homer, whose ‘Agamemnon’ avers: “but it is not I who am at fault [‘ἐγὼ δ’ οὐκ αἴτιός εἰμι’], but Zeus and Fate and Erinys, that walks in darkness, since […] they cast on my mind fierce blindness […]. But what could I do? It is a god that brings all things to their end. Eldest daughter of Zeus is Ate who blinds all” (Iliad 13–24. 340–341, 19.86–92; plus 344–345, 19.136–137; and Ammonius 94, §131.11–16). With respect to the variants of monotheistic deities, see subch. 4.4, herein. 44 Cf. Wetz (“Begriffe” 27); as well as ch. 3, and 4.5, herein.

Conceptual Précis | 25

been buried precisely in the place where another wishes to plant a tree.45 Or else, a shingle drops from a roof—just as someone is walking by.46 As used by Aristotle, the verb ‘symbaínein’ (‘to come together’, ‘to come to pass’) tended to be Latinized as ‘contingere’, ‘to touch (to)’; respectively ‘contingentia’ (from the participle).47 Kant gives these as ‘zufällig’ and ‘Zufall’ (‘that which befalls’); under certain circumstances, ‘contingency’ (‘Kontingenz’) could thus be used interchangeably with ‘chance’.48

|| 45 See subch. 3.1, herein. These paradigms are (altogether) commonplace; hence may be found in may loci after—and apart from—Aristotle. Generally, cf. Waldenfels, speaking of “de[m] sprichwörtliche[n] Schatz im Acker” in an affine context (82). 46 Facing a world of (sheer) contingency, Blumenberg puts suicide into perspective by citing— and commenting on—an anecdote in Hebbel’s diary: “Heute ging ich unter einem Maurergerüst vorbei. Da fiel es mir ein, es würde mir, wenn ein Stein herunterfiele und mich erschlage, sogar in dem Fall unangenehm sein, wenn ich schon die geladene Pistole, mit der ich mich im nächsten Gebüsch erschießen wollte, unterm Rock trüge. […] Der Selbstmörder, in der christlichen Tradition aus nie ganz geklärten Gründen ein Verworfener, ist doch der wahre Nachfolger der ‘Vorsehung’ als des ins Christentum gewanderten Stücks Stoa. Denn worauf es ihm ankommt, zeigt Hebbels Grübelei am Rande des Todestriebs im Münchner Elend: Er will nicht ohne Absicht sterben. Gleichgültig, wer sie hat, könnte man hinzufügen: die Weltvernunft oder die eigene. Der vom Maurergerüst fallende Ziegel ist der ewige Beispielsfall des Gegenteils: der unvernünftigen Absichtslosigkeit. Dagegen begehrt noch im letzten Atemzug auf, wer sich im nächsten seinen eigenen Tod zugedacht hatte. Nun ist auch der Dachziegel nur ein Repräsentant für die vernünftige Unerträglichkeit der Vorsehung […]. Was mag in dieser hintergründigen Absicht, dem wartenden principium rationis insufficientis, für ihn noch stecken? Das war es, was Epikur gegen die Stoa aufbrachte und ihn den Dachziegelzufall in Gestalt der Weltatomstürze bevorzugen ließ: Man brauchte sich nicht zu sorgen, ob man Günstling des Logos sei oder nicht; alle waren gleich, wenn sie unter dem Maurergerüst der Welt hindurchgingen. Der Epikureer ist der, der ohne Harm unterm Zufall des Falles von allem und jedem vergeht und der eigenen Absicht im Dahinschwinden so wenig nachtrauert wie der einer Gottheit. Dazu war Hebbel der prägnante Gegentypus und mußte es sein. Denn: Die Tragödie wird unmöglich, wenn der Zufall seine Dachziegel oder Atome streut” (Lebensthemen 60–61). Cf. the Hawthornean passage given in subch. 2.2. Said “Dachziegelzufall” will be a typically Aristotelianizing example for chance. Generally thereto, see Küpper (“Episteme” passim; “Ordnung” 191, 213–214, 213n.; plus 173–174, 180, 180n.–181n., 194, 217, 217n.; passim); also vis-à-vis this amorously induced suicide: “Melibeas Freitod verweist auf nichts, und er verdeutlicht als solcher, daß die Welt der Kontingenz die der absoluten Referenzlosigkeit und Beliebigkeit ist” (“Ordnung” 193n.; with 193; and 189n., 198). On the latter, as well as in general, cf. chs. 6 and 10, herein. 47 See e.g. von Graevenitz/Marquard (“Vorwort” xiii); Wetz (“Begriffe” 29); Sorabji (Necessity 4; 6n.); and subch. 4.5, herein. 48 Cf. “Kant [‘setzte’] den Begriff Kontingenz mit dem Ausdruck Zufall gleich. Seither werden beide in gleichem Sinne gebraucht” (Wetz “Begriffe” 29; with Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XIII; Vogt 21–22; 60–61; more generally, M. Sommer “Zufall” passim).

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Above, Nietzsche has variants of the same word in each case, while the translation—for semantic reasons—tenders three English ones.49 In said lingua franca, the term at issue is a Janus word potentially, which is ultimately due to its Latin etymology. For the phrase ‘to be contingent (up)on’ indicates a specified nexus, causal dependency; hence signifies the precise opposite of ‘by chance’.50 At least three facets, views, or versions of chance have been advanced so far. First, it is typically linked to the coming—qua realm of the possible, being as yet undetermined (the futura contingentia insinuated in Nietzsche’s lines). Then, an accident may appear to be the (unintentional) meeting of several causal chains (as with the treasure and the tree). Finally, the world as such, and any lifeform therein, might as well be otherwise, or not at all—in the Leibnizian wording: “cur aliquid potius quam nihil” (cited in: Blumenberg “Sokrates [2001]” 110).51 The editors of Poetik und Hermeneutik XVII offer a variety of classic(al) attempts at defining the concept at issue: ‘Contingens est, quod nec est impossibile, nec necessarium’ [‘contingent denotes that which is neither impossible nor necessary’][;] or: ‘Contingens est, quod potest non esse’ [‘contingent denotes that which may also not be’][;] or[:] ‘contingens est, quod potest aliud esse’ [‘contingent denotes that which may be (something) else’]. The non-necessary is thus contingent: that which could have not been[,] or could have also been else. (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XI; trans. dsm)

In again other words: contingency signifies something that is generally possible—though not (yet) actual, or determined; that could also be not at all, else no longer; or (respectively and) that may well be otherwise.

2.5 Synopses of Chapters 3 to 13 Others apart sat on a hill retired In thoughts more elevate and reasoned high Of providence, foreknowledge, will and fate, Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, And found no end in wand’ring mazes lost. —Milton (“Paradise Lost” 41–42, II.557–561)52

|| 49 See subch. 2.3. Also Wicksteed’s gloss (at Aristotle Phys. 1–4. 141n.); Sorabji (Necessity 4–5). 50 In general, cf. the entry in Merriam-Webster (s.v. “contingent”); Mayfield (Artful 158, 158n.). 51 Approx. ‘why something rather than nothing’ (trans. dsm). See also subch. 5.1.1, herein. 52 Thus the poet—as to the pastimes occupying the Fallen Angels in (his version of) Hell. An affine gloss on Teskey’s part tenders a general observation: “freedom demands discipline” (“Paradise Lost” 41n.; referring to II.550–551, where demons are said to “complain that fate /

Synopses | 27

In the beginning is contingency. Human life is susceptible of changing suddenly, shifting inadvertently, of appearing differently, varying unpredictably, of being altered deliberately, advancing fortuitously, commencing or ending accidentally, of a certain malleability. In theory, any human being is potentially capacitated to conceive of—and convey—the chance, view, fact that matters may be elsewise, or not at all. With respect to other lifeforms, such might be said animal’s distinctive characteristic.53 This state of play is both an everyday phenomenon, and an indispensable prerequisite for exceptional innovations in culture and science. Contingency is the condition of possibility for any of the arts—be they dominantly concerned with thinking, crafting, or enacting. While their scope and method may differ, the (f)act of reckoning with—and taking advantage of—contingency renders rhetoricians and philosophers associates after all. In said regard, Aristotle and Blumenberg will be exemplary, hence provide the framework. Between these diachronic bridgeheads, various readings applying the nexus—the affinity, the rivalry—of rhetoric and contingency to a selection of Ancient and (Early) Modern texts and thinkers are intercalated. Special attention is given to Seneca, Quintilian, Rojas (Celestina), Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Gracián, Fontane, and Marquard. Treated in certain segments to follow, authors or personae of particular relevance also include Plato, Protagoras, Gorgias, Agathon, Diogenes of Sinope, Epicurus, Cicero, Horace, Livy, Ovid, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Augustine, Boethius, Thomas Aquinas, Montaigne, Bacon, Hobbes, Lichtenberg, Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Poe, Hawthorne, Pater, Wilde, Husserl, Valéry, Benn, Wittgenstein, and Borges (inter alia).54 To provide a ready overview of the study at hand, succinct summaries for each of its ensuing segments are here offered in one place. Like the present, the following abstracts are tendered as tentative spotlights—for heuristic purposes.55

|| Free virtue should enthrall to force or chance”). Rackham opens his foreword to Cicero’s de fato with the above lines from Milton (“Intro. [Fate]” 188). 53 More fundamental than that Classical “capacity for rational judgement”, it will be said animal’s awareness of—and reckoning with—contingency that “makes” it “significantly more independent of” its “environment than other beings” (Korolec 629; infinitized). Cf. ch. 12, herein. 54 This list is provisional; does not reflect the relative frequency of citation; see the index also. 55 In the subsequent digests, references and glosses are reduced to a minimum (as per the genre). Parenthetically, certain paragraphs signal the present study’s corresponding subchs. Perusal of the latter cannot be substituted by these synoptic shortcuts.

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Chapter 3: Aristotle’s Contingency Leitfigur […] ist Aristoteles, dem ein […] unüberbotenes Verständnis des Zufallsbegriffs attestiert wird. —Joas (12)56

In the form of an exploratory commentary, the initial chapters on theory deal with Aristotle’s conceptions of chance, otherwiseness, possibility (and affine terms) specifically in his Physics (3.2, 3.4) and Metaphysics (3.1, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6); the Magna Moralia, Eudemian Ethics (3.3); as well as in de interpretatione (3.7). The set of issues associable with contingency sensu lato may well involve ‘automatisms’, symptoms, ‘spontaneities’, accidents, coincidences, fortune— inter alia. The qualifications ‘necessary’ and ‘usually’ tend to provide yardsticks for assessing the latter ex negativo. The first subchapter (3.1) limns and varies Aristotle’s iconic examples—of the treasure and the tree; of tempests or pirates. The second (3.2) proceeds to the philosopher’s theory of causality, with emphasis on its socio-linguistic basis. Generally speaking, material might fail to arrive at a specific shape. Initiatives may miscarry. Obstructions could hinder an expected or desired course. Not infrequently, referring to an occurrence as accidental has the function of attributing a ground to something that would otherwise not appear to have one. Syn- or diachronically, there seem to be three basic proclivities in said regard. Apart from the extreme ascriptions—utter fate, sheer chance—there is a third: human inscrutability. Mayhap, Aristotle’s sober mind inclines toward a relative variant of the latter. At any rate, he pertinently observes that the fortuitous was, and remains, a noetico-linguistic phenomenon; hence must be reckoned with. The Stagirite takes týche seriously, describes it poly-perspectivally. In more than one sense, chance is an incalculability (3.3). The word can function qua shorthand for not being able to give a more precise—or any—cause. Fortune contrasts with what is always or generally. Occurring unexpectedly, out of place, sans limits, it appears counter to reason, order. Throughout Aristotle’s œuvre, the fact that something is—or might be—qualified as ‘álogon’, ‘aóriston’, ‘ápeiron’, ‘átakton’, ‘átopon’ tends to serve as a signal for a corresponding attribution. As per human standards, chance might seem inestimable. Certain cases appear undecidable. Assumptions, anticipations, ascriptions vary. So does what is considered to be out of the ordinary. Mayhap, týche itself is contingent. It could be otherwise—or not the case at all: “fortune is […] not the || 56 “Credited with […] nonpareil insight into the concept of chance, Aristotle is […] [the] guiding figure” (trans. dsm). Cf. Vogt (109; with 128, 144, 146).

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cause of all the things of which it seems to be” (“Eudemian” 465, 1248a, VIII.ii.19). Taking on a life of its own, a potential for elseness can be used to curb the phenomenon at issue. This appears to be Aristotle’s angle: he will take advantage of any means as might aid in not letting chance get out of hand or mind. Fortune and rationality are acutely opposed. In a logical view, contingencies are exceptions, describable ex negativo only. Then again, such is precisely a form of regularity. Reason seems capacitated to verbally conceive of—though not actually to grasp—its own negation in the form of týche’s utter irrationality. To a disciplined mindset, the very notion that the infinitely illogical disorder associated with the fortuitous have priority or supremacy regarding the lógos cannot be acceptable. Hence the Stagirite’s rationale comes rather close to the assumption that the appearance of chance may be due to human (in)capacities. The latter being a given, it must be rational to reckon with unaccountability (3.4). One refers to said phenomenon (týche, autómaton) when an occurrence does not meet—else goes against—conditions of (relative) necessity or regularity. As always in Aristotle, linguistic usages—floatational parlances—are the first touchstone. The common belief that týche appears ‘unfathomable’ is appreciated as plausible—incidental causes being indefinite, evasive, inscrutable. In line therewith, it will appear inconceivable that an indeterminate quantity of potentially accompanying aspects could actually be appraised. A strict science of chance must seem implausible. Then again, the corresponding phenomena are (always) assessed as exceptions, gauged from the negative—nothing constant or normal being attributable to týche. In this way, the philosopher does provide a certain rationalization of something (apparently) unreasonable. While a human involvement seems needful for discerning the phenomenon at all, it is in hýle that Aristotle locates the most fundamental root of contingency (3.5): “the cause of the accidental is the matter, which admits of variation from the usual” (Met. 1–9. 303, 1027a, VI.ii.11). Its capacity for being otherwise offers the condition of possibility for týchai and téchnai alike. Seeing as chances display a tendency to go along—and interfere—with virtually anything, the extent of accompanying qualities is incalculable. To the Stagirite’s mind, accidents seem byproducts, side effects. Paradoxically speaking, coincidences could appear inevitable, in a material world. Repeatedly, Aristotle insists that—quasi by definition—there can be no science of accidentals (3.6). Then again, proximate descriptions of various phenomena associable therewith do form part of his theoría and epistéme. Chances are exceptions—hence not exempt from being approached ex negativo. Since words have a communal presence—signaling noetic possibilities— there are téchnai as not only reckon with, but downright handle the respective

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impressions, articulated assumptions. Mayhap, all is reasonably causal indeed— and the casual sans fundamentum in re. Yet it does have such in mente et lingua. Contingency conduces to sophistry. Needless to stress, its protagonists manage týche otherwise than could seem suitable to ‘lovers of wisdom’. The world as experienced by human animals appears to allow exceptions to a variety of rules. Few things—if any—are sans concessions or qualifications. Particularities being countless, strict epistemai cannot actually state or anticipate each and every possible extraordinariness. Even so, there are versatile téchnai— focused on adapting to ever changeable circumstances. Concerned with the accidental above all (see Met. 1–9. 299, 1026b, VI.ii.4), Sophistics and its art of rhesis are performatively capable of anticipating or integrating irregularities into their relatively flexible forms of order; specifically by leaving a certain leeway for contingencies. The wide field of fortune is an orator’s playground; and rhetoric the art of (exploiting) chance. This study’s initial chapters on theory are provisionally concluded by a close reading of the arch-text regarding future contingency (3.7). Qua set of procedural rules, logic is designed to counter an attitude of ‘aught goes (if it does)’. Given the need for such a discipline, it will be unlikely that all transpires of necessity. Humans are—act on the basis of, produce—contingencies. Their causalities are prone to elseness. Deliberation does occur—could impact events. Entailing practical reasoning and rhetoric, Aristotle’s logical treatise points beyond itself. Total determinism is but a provisional experiment of thought therein. The Stagirite employs the noted example of a potential naumachía to exemplify the contingency of the future. If something (past or generally conceivable) is not (the case) at present, it could occur (again), at other points in time; or fail to do so. Issues are always resolvably certain in an artificial system for ordering the world. Yet a rational(istic) approach cannot but be the exception in a human lifeworld—rendering needful the aforesaid discipline on occasion. From the angle of the everyday, logic is incidental. Unlike the art of decontextualization, oratory will be perspectival. A chance event is such to someone. Viewpoints are accidentals, as well. Rhetoric exploits contingency.

Chapter 4: From Aristotle to Quintilian, and Beyond A God with freedom of choice is a deliberating God, even if only for an instant. —Courtenay (249)

The ensuing subchapters pertaining to this study’s theoretical part are concerned with Aristotle’s pragmatic writings, primarily the Nicomachean Ethics (4.1) and

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Rhetoric (4.2); as well as with their impact on the further course of said art and moral philosophy—notably in terms of quality (4.3). Two remaining segments outline the fundamental alteration of (the Stagirite’s take on) contingency caused by the Judeo-Christian discourse (4.4); and tender a general—taxonomic, diachronic—synopsis regarding the phenomenon under scrutiny (4.5). One cannot but proceed from what is at hand. For any animal, the givens are sense impressions—ever prone to change. Acting on their basis—spontaneously, deliberately—the human variants may seem contingency incarnate. Advancing by chance means not having or knowing a (pertinent) rationale. Yet any technical procedure is likewise based on the possibility for matters to be (made) else. As far as Aristotle is concerned, the past is always—and commonsensically— assumed to be necessary (4.1). Via assorted techniques of accommodation and insinuation, an orator can virtually persuade the relevant audience or readership that—in various possible senses—the bygone is otherwise, contingent (4.2). Qua circumstantial art, rhetoric’s mind- and craftful elasticity might actively accommodate chance particulars: singular, rare, extraordinary, erratic, irregular, haphazard, indeterminate, vague, indefinite instances; arbitrary, inconsistent, illogical, unreasonable notions. At any rate, induction will be the ‘way to go’. Variabilities being the playground of said téchne, one could take Aristotle’s naumachía as an oratorico-deliberative case subject to refunctionalizations. Along such lines, even a putative necessity of the past could be rendered contingent—as the case may be. Experts of elusive virtuosity in everything, Sophists reckon with elsewiseness—and exploit chances—at all times. Virtually any accidental can be conferred upon a given fact or phenomenon. Accordingly, questions of quality will be dealt with en détail (4.3). Ever is it needful to ascertain where one stands; or the issue at hand: an, quid, quale sit. Having asked ‘whether something is at all’, ‘what a given thing is’, the reply to the query as to ‘the ways something may be’—‘the makes it could have’—is the fulcrum of rhetoric (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 6–8. 236, 7.4.3). Circumstances will be considerable; contexts critical; a potential for otherwiseness decisive. The condition of possibility for flexible verbal processing is contingency: aught may be else, even simultaneously; or not—seeming so from one angle, but not from another. While said phenomenon is typically thought to concern future matters specifically and only, rhetoricians have always freely and methodically exploited its infinite potentials with respect to things present and past, as well. Mindful of humankind’s experiences with contingency, Sophists might cause mere possibilities to seem probable, literally plausible; craft credibility for sheer eventualities; render likely any ‘maybe’ as could prove expedient in a given case.

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This eloquent process is also susceptible of the reverse. An orator is able to effect a conjectural factuality for what would else appear to be logically excluded; to endow fabrications with an air of conceivable authenticity; to render contingent what had been, or seemed, established; and to pass off otherwise patent fictions as potentially self-evident. In the (virtual) realm of wordcraft, anything is—and naught im—possible. Audiences are the relevant measure—and ‘Truth’ precisely whatever might be received as such. By virtue of qualifications, said art capitalizes on any potential, presumed, incidental aspect—to serve a current purpose with utmost effectuality. Rhetoric proceeds from, thrives on, the assumption that aught is—may be given the impression of seeming—possible; that what is taken for granted might be else. Traditions, authorities, certainties are not exempt from otherwiseness. Little wonder that Aristotle’s notion of contingency would eventually be subjected to what it describes (4.4). While the Stagirite’s philosophy—defining chance ex negativo, bounding it as an epiphenomenon—remains the measure for Scholastic theorizing of all couleurs, Augustinian additives decisively change the state of play. The concept becomes metaphysical—turns into a theological issue. From a human viewpoint, the Deity’s will seems utterly contingent. All things created thereby—hence the world in its entirety—may well be otherwise; or not (else no longer) in any way soever; and not excepting the past. Accordingly, Christian discourses alter the Stagirite’s respective theory at its very foundation. The potential for otherwiseness becomes elemental outright. It is Blumenberg’s merit to have brought this phenomenon’s structural significance and continuing virulence to the forefront of scholarly attention. With Nominalism’s Augustinianizing ‘ultimatization’ of Divine omnipotence, the allpurpose formula for their Deity—‘quia vult’—affects the world, and matter itself. Universes are susceptible of being altered, multiplied, deleted, undone. Discursively speaking, that most profound change in conception is sedimented in the era’s records. Certain Early Modern texts might be seen as downright ‘staging contingency’ (see Küpper “Ordnung” 176; 206). After the Christian superstructure had also been stripped away—virtually in Celestina, effectually in Machiavelli, implicitly in Montaigne and Shakespeare—whatever may have remained was sheer chance, a potentially unbounded otherwiseness. Human beings are forced—or free—to proceed plus ultra. When dealing with contingency ambulant—to wit, the animals in question, especially their actions—all is practically indeterminate. In such a world, there can be no definitive measures—let alone answers. Any roots or reasons potentially perceived by humans are of temporal, sectoral, partial relevance only.

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This marks the basic premise of moral philosophy, statecraft, and rhetoric alike: causalities are contingent (virtually, in fact). All comes down to will alone. The set of phenomena associated with chance sensu lato is of transtemporal import, brisance—having dominated human minds at all times. With the Augustinian additives, the issue appears to have taken on a special virulence— which continues to be confronted and processed in various disciplines to this day. A heuristic synopsis thereof is tendered in the subchapter provisionally concluding the theoretical part overall (4.5). While the contingent is typically given as ‘neither impossible nor necessary, capable of being not at all, or else’ (see Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XI), it is needful to signal the term’s diachronic polyvalence. A semantic inventory might comprise týche, autómaton, symbebekós, sýmptoma (inter alia); plus associated and affine concepts or phrases, dynatón, endechómenon, endéchetai kaì állos échein, say. Withal, the ensuing attributes tend to have a bearing on descriptions of fortune sensu lato: logically inaccessible, unaccountable, inexplicable, rationally unjustifiable, arbitrary, infrequent, indeterminate, et caetera. Diachronic attempts at facing (up to) chancefulness comprise denial, delimitation, domestication, downplaying, as well as (pro)actively dealing with the phenomenon in question. Even so, the concept entails an accent on praxis and agency. For contingency enables human liberty—including the freedom to acknowledge its force; or treat it to temporary necessities poetically.

Chapter 5: Induction and Contingency Hee must read many; but, ever the best, and choisest: those, that can teach him any thing, hee must ever account his masters, and reverence[.] —Ben Jonson (639–640, l.2507–2509)57

Methods are pragmatic ‘ways to go’. Elsewiseness entails an epagogic one— proceeding from, processing, exploiting what is at hand. The world as known to human animals is a realm of contingency—the former ambulant exemplars of the latter. Their brain seems capacitated to be thinking in said terms. Once perceived, there appears to be an unwillingness to let chance reign unchecked. Being inconvenient, downright threatening, virtually all human activities are aimed at provisionally regulating chaos, entropy, the fortuitous. Ever has said || 57 Referring thereto, Trimpi accentuates a “liberal classicism” (Plain Style 46); as well as a “resiliently versatile” one (Plain Style 143–144). See Schaeffer: “it is impossible to place too much importance on reading widely” (“Literary Studies” 277).

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animal attempted to bring disparate conditions under control: by virtue of myths, mores, nómoi, rituals; by works of art, religions, and philosophies; by scholarly, speculative, scientific approaches; et multa caetera. Replete with randomness, caprices of all sorts, the past appears a bottomless fund of the haphazard. In a diachronic perspective, téchnai try to rule—týche does. Blumenberg describes a “culture of contingency” as being “shaped by the basic thought that what is need not be” (Sorge 57; trans. dsm). A rhetorical one is formed on the assumption that what was is not necessary either. Thinking in terms of otherwiseness seems capable of destabilizing almost anything—rendering it a potentially hazardous capacity. At once, it amounts to a prerequisite for liberty—guaranteeing noetic independence; plus a certain leeway for assorted implementations. The methodical part (5) traces Blumenberg’s noetic paths, as reflected in his scholarly approach and writerly écriture. The philosopher’s modus operandi— decisively displayed in Beschreibung des Menschen—yields the impression of a composed and vivid descriptiveness. It is concerned with approximating the manifold issues under scrutiny from various perspectives—a conditio sine qua non for rhetoric. As his Phenomenological writings evince, said process expressly takes up Husserl’s theoretical praxis—particularly the technique of ‘free variation’. In effect, it amounts to ‘infinite descriptive labor’. Marked by detours, Blumenberg’s egregious discursiveness is a performative articulation of his procedure. Varying McLuhan’s noted motto, one might suggest that said ‘method is itself the message’—meaning, the myriad trails taken (5.1). A world of “naked contingency” (Arbeit 681; trans. dsm) will yield an increasingly entropic diversification of functions, ‘chaotized’ senses—a textual, virtual, factual realm of polyvalence.58 A pluralization of pathways and perspectives—using indirections, approximations—may seem feckful. Decidedly human, works of art are modes of dealing with, and offsetting, otherwiseness—being as polysemous as that which is tackled, by modeling, mirroring, depicting, reenacting the same. They provide testing environments, designed for provisional—heuristico-exploratory, poetico-playful—maneuvers. Literature sensu lato marks one among the possible dispositifs for coping with the contingent conditions anyone could encounter in the world at large. Likewise, science or scholarship will be courses and orders of facing—as well as tentatively managing—else- and chancefulness. Rhetoric offers an arsenal of tools and devices for handling changeable data actively, poetically. Deliberately || 58 On the concept of ‘chaoticization’, cf. Küpper (Discursive 12–13; 14n.; 16; 262; 267; 269n.; 270; 279–280; 287; 292); and the ensuing abstract (ch. 6).

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interpreting, or manipulating, (im)mediate perceptions, hermeneutics will be one way to attain a—momentary, ever makeshift—impression of orderliness. The versatile technique of ‘free variation’ already yields a crafted form of polysemy. Blumenberg has recourse to textual records withal. He refrains from canceling out humankind and history; does not Phenomenologically ‘reduce’ the lifeforms contingently enacting a respective perceiving. Limning from sundry angles, stances, points of varying distance, description is diverse, processual, multi-perspectival quasi by nature. Any such procedure factually produces a sequence of concurrent facets—phenomenistic polyphonies. At once, the resultant pluralism of readings amounts to an enactment of liberty. Remaining work in progress, Blumenberg’s limning modus marks a stylistic and scholarly choice—rhetorically effectual with a view to evidentia. Entechnic descriptiveness enacts his philosophy; and serves as an expedient means for provisionally handling sheer contingency. The method is the message: to engage in said process a professional statement—and of purpose. With respect to Goethe, Blumenberg refers to “Beschreibungskunst” (Goethe 74). It may well be applied to the philosopher himself (5.2). Nor will the latter’s virtuosity in said performance be in question. Hence the choice of method might be motivated; its artful application elucidated. By tracing Blumenberg’s accustomed modus operandi, one might aim at limning the condition of possibility precisely of his descriptions (5.2.1). A general state ‘replete with definitions’ appears to tender the background—setting into relief the philosopher’s procedure as counter statements: formally, in tendency. Definitional excesses are likely to be encountered in self-contained systems advancing deductively. The “absolutism of truth” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 27; trans. dsm) represents a status quo that Blumenberg parries—indirectly, with equilibrating effect—by virtue of the inductive, craftfully discursive, memorably illustrative, plausibly significative, elegantly balanced, deliberately open-ended, unbounded and abundant, effectually ‘infinite labor’ of legible descriptions. In a realm of elseness, matters may signify multiply, variously. Cultural and natural products are subject to the same dynamics. Human animals begin with aisthéseis—random, entropic experiences. Facing sundry data, epagogé is their habitual path. Said process can start at any point within a contingent continuum. In such a world, heuristically semioticized exploits occur partially, plurally, by the way. Sedimented diachronically, provisionally valid verbal trouvailles are conceivable, since chance can never be excluded a priori. The contingent—transtemporal, -disciplinary, -personal—plenitude of thoughts, words, views is itself a field of action and labor for an inductive method. A given dictum is a particular datum. Being phainómena also, they may be treated to sakely descriptions.

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Anybody is ever already embedded in cultural contexts, networks; hence cannot but encounter contingently accrued sentences floating therein. In the semioticized residues of diverse téchnai, one is facing another chaotized field of týche. Qua grounding material—to be taken up in variform ways—Blumenberg collects sundry sayings; and specifically hypomnémata concerning human animals. His rhapsodic inventories are relatively random, though associative— documenting and conveying a heuristico-dispositive praxis. Being instances of a ‘more general specific’ or ‘quasi universal’, essais limning ‘what it means to be human’ are themselves particular(itie)s. Alignable with a rhetorical, Aristotelian, Montaignian modus operandi, Blumenberg proceeds inductively, from singulars—in their very contingency, peculiarity. Expedient regarding natural and cultivated material alike, diversity, variation, polyvalent contexts can be taken into account by virtue of an epagogic approach. With this provisional state of affairs qua contrast agent, one may address the process as such—its particular artfulness, especially the rhetorical facture (5.2.2). Should descriptions per se tender (virtual) rejoinders to a definitionous condition in philosophicis, this measured change of method will likely also articulate itself in effectually formulated expressions concerning the procedure in question. Seminal loci in said regard can be encountered in Zu den Sachen und zurück. Attentiveness is to be crafted, induced, by virtue of approximative limning. Either will be vectorial; both are also interminable. The theorist’s respective essais— artfully wrought, marked by variform iterations—yield a most refined impression. Blumenberg logs “rendering attentive” qua “function of description”—giving said practice as a counter statement: “Nothing is being taught, nothing assigned as a lesson, nothing introduced and no one conducted, nothing promised[,] let alone prophesied, neither hope raised nor fear aroused. This instead: attention is being called to” something perceived, by virtue of “description” (Sachen 182–183; trans. dsm). This craftful statement of purpose is particularly performative. Precisely in its indirection, inductivity, interminability (being ‘limitless labor’, legibly), Beschreibung defuses ‘methodologies’ as deprioritize sincerity, due diligence, scholarly probity, equity; as presuppose the objective sans respect to the path. Descriptiveness is open in terms of its results; conceivably impartial; susceptible of variation. It is generally augmentable, extendable—amenable to delegated elaboration. The makeshift, provisional, tentative, contingent (‘ever also else, potentially’) is not simply a stylistic device and strategy. These mark the philosopher’s modi operandi per se; his ways of proceeding—of working. Rejoining to a state full of deductions, definitions, Blumenberg’s limning art may be motivated as a counter statement—submitted by someone, who likewise “desires nothing else than to be describing outright” (Lebenszeit 31; trans. dsm).

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Chapter 6: Contingency and Cynicism in Celestina Calculation implies care, not caution alone[.] —Mansfield (Modes 25)59

This reading explores ramifications of the cynical stance and statement in the Early Modern masterpiece commonly called Celestina (~1499 to 1514). An instant bestseller in its day, said drama—otherwise entitled (Tragi)Comedia de Calisto y Melibea—was swiftly renamed after its cynosure: a morally appalling, while vexingly appealing character of crafty prudence, awe-inspiring astuteness, virtuoso eloquence, ruthless rationality, and utter self-interest. The work in question is located at a nominal and discursive threshold—its initial versions having been written at some point during those world-historically decisive 1490s. A partly collaborative effort apparently, this oratorico-dialogic play is written to be spoken, heard—performed as a socio-rhetorical event (6.2). Set in a strikingly vivid world of love-sick nobles, venal servants, clueless parents, prostitution, superstition, pervasive greed, thorough corruption and deceit, the protagonists candidly express their motivations in asides and to each other—providing ample material for the rhetorical study of cynical statements. By recourse to Diogenes the Dog—ostentating scorn for everyone, anything— one may describe the latter with a view to Classical, philosophico-anthropistic, politico-rhetorical, generico-literary implications (6.3). Employed ad hominem, the function of such utterances is primarily agonal. In addition to well-nigh any disadvantageous connotation possible, ‘cynicism’ evinces a tendency to signify that all human conduct is routinely driven by immediate self-interest only. In everyday parlance, the term is typically innocent of benign associations. Descriptively, cynical remarks have a specific quality. While their matter will be downright appalling to most—vulgar, brutal, inhumane—the artful make may yield a certain appeal; a conflux of refined (per)form(ance) and immoral content. Ethical preferences are subject to otherwiseness. What is judged acceptable varies. Communal values, social status, established norms are contingent. This is of import regarding the phenomenon at issue. For cynicism flaunts its variance with the expected, prevalent. Taking pride and delight in its artful immorality, it is describable qua willfully, ostentatiously transgressing, vociferously negating a respectively given nómos. The corresponding protagonists proceed from the assumption of chancefulness. Everything might as well be else, or not at all.

|| 59 Cf. Kablitz as to “de[n] kalkulierte[n] Einsatz des Verstandes, des Wertvollsten, über das der Mensch verfügt” (“Alterität.” 231).

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Likewise in Celestina—a rhetorico-dramatic “mise en scène of contingency” (Küpper “Ordnung” 206; trans. dsm). This “miscarried comedy” (“Ordnung” 204; trans. dsm) stages týche in various manifestations; as well as diverse human responses to a thoroughly entropic state of affairs (6.5). Underwriting, as well as permeating the plot, Fortuna seems the only ground and catalyst for what occurs. To the play’s personae, the latter looks like the last remaining power governing the universe. Its force intersects with their various intentionalities randomly, at irregular intervals. Events are ‘serialized’, occur in haphazard fashion. Not actions, trite accidents determine this drama decisively. What occurs is chanceful, incidental, sheerly fortuitous. A considerable awareness thereto is also characteristic for cynicism qua stance; and may well seem conducive to corresponding utterances (6.6). Reckoning with the future’s contingency, or perceiving it in hindsight, tends to ‘chaotize’ the systematic; to corrode the durability—hence the value—of what happens to be customary. In said regard, Scripture and Ancient moral philosophy may serve as tentative benchmarks for general observations. A relativizing, flouting, deriding of the conventional will likely be perceived as cynical. At once, such statements—and the corresponding stance—could be seen as attempts at countervailing chancefulness; qua forms of contrarianism, ‘poetically’ confronting the volatility of conditions. Contingency can erode or remove the directives of propriety. Where Fortune reigns unchecked, naught will seem stable, established—nor hold good for longer than an evanescent whim. Assorted unethicalities—the vulgar, crude, explicit, seductive—may happen to be declared ‘natural’. Limitless greed, rampant amor sui, a pure pursuit of pleasure might be rationalized. Within a consummately chanceful world, the sole standard of some plausibility is sheer will. In exploring the functions and effectuality of cynical comments (6.6.1), it is needful to stress the presence of pragmatic implications. The play is downright riddled with a veritable copia of elegant innuendos, reductive valuations, abysmal inversions, immoral imperatives, elaborate callousness, sententious incitements to obscenity, ruthless unscrupulousness, shocking ingratitude, terse disrespect, relished blasphemy, inhumane derision, shameless free speech. All but nothing appears to be sheathed in silence. The pervasive practice of parrhesía—especially in the frequent asides—conduces to cynical irreverence. A rhetorico-dramatic tour de force, this Renaissance masterwork of wordcraft is consummately refined as a whole. When unethical contents are referred to, their artfulness is quasi guaranteed—leading to the sort of reception intimated. As concerns a corresponding stance, Celestina may well qualify as a cynic— albeit not tout court (6.6.2). She self-servingly calculates on the contingency of

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the conventional; counsels animalistic bearing, while arrogating godlikeness. The bawd’s self-assertion is insistent; her tactics of acclimatizing unprincipled, sans regard for norms or other human beings. With a view to personal gain, she cunningly deceives any alter at hand. By the official standards of her textual time, this procuress is a paragon of virtually any form of immorality. Addressing timeless concerns of the conditio humana, the rhetorical drama by the name of Celestina stages a realm of sheer contingency and will outright. Struggling, achieving, failing, striving more, said animals work for themselves— in the here, now, and this world; not for a beyond.

Chapter 7: Brutal Latencies. On the Crafting of Political Union Et ces monstres de silence et de lucidité […] apparaissent comme l’Intelligence elle-même, en tant que bête et animal impénétrable, qui tout pénètre. —Valéry (“Eupalinos” 112)60

Early Modern politico-theatrical discourses—dependably foundational for the governmental and dramatic arts of the present—have a tendency to deal with given states of fragmentation, predicament, or crisis by virtue of a politic strategy as also happens to be particularly expedient in performance: ‘speaking to the (and those) present in terms (and by way) of the past’. In Gracián’s wording: “Hase de hablar a los presentes en los passados” (Oráculo 217, §210). Both Machiavelli’s cunning comedy Mandragola (1518), and Shakespeare’s decidedly dramatic Lucrece (1594), are ultimately grounded in the same political narrative: the paradigmatic crafting of a Republic at the most critical moment in Roman history. Proving an Occidental turning point for times to come, the latter continues to be of factual and conceptual significance. Such express, comparable recourse—in Southern or Northern Europe, at the onset and end of the sixteenth century, in otherwise dissimilar circumstances— will hardly be sans implications. The Florentine consigliere and the London playwright are staging a political statement, whose significance transcends the particular confines of their—historical, socio-cultural, theatrical—settings. Proceeding inductively, the present reading elicits, and warily advances, the more universal planes—hence the potentially diachronic (re)applications—latent in these Early Modern politico-dramatic particularities.

|| 60 “diese Ungeheuer von Schweigen und Helligkeit […] erscheinen wie die Intelligenz selbst, als das Tier und das undurchdringlich Tierische, das alles durchdringt” (Eupalinos [Rilke] 79) .

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The story of Lucretia and Brutus displays a tendency to be taken up from the West’s ‘(virtual) cultural networks’ at moments of extreme calamity.61 Its being a foundational and frequently reworked myth already in Antiquity will ensure the adaptable narrative’s continued availability. Faced with countless diachronic uptakes, manifold transformations, the tale and its ramifications seem downright exemplary for what Blumenberg generally describes as ongoing processes of rhetorico-mythical reworking (7.1). To facilitate approaching a text’s transtemporal refunctionalizations in an expedient manner, it will be needful to tender the narrative structure for Lucretia’s Ancient case. The floatational presence of contingent variants provides the condition of possibility for tentatively eliciting a quasi ‘basic mythos’ (see Arbeit 192). While Machiavelli utterly refunctionalizes the story, Shakespeare’s uptake and reworking recognizably retains many features of various previous versions (7.2.1). Contingencies cannot be prevented—but may be handled differently. Like Celestina, Lucrece would typically have been recited aloud in its contemporaneous setting (7.2.2). Early Modern recipients read with their ears (so to speak). The Ancient matter is theatrical per se; and Shakespeare’s variant a decidedly oratorico-dramatic work. In terms of content, most critical efforts have tended to center either on the violator, or the titular protagonist. Such foci would seem to deprioritize the circumstances and upshots. For the lady—by producing an expedient state of potential otherwiseness from an accident—delegates the political advantages to be taken. Recycling raw chance, her prudent discipline functions as a catalyst; and Lucius knows how to use it. As in a rhapsodic relay, the rhétor takes over from Lucrece—detailed by the latter, effectually speaking in her stead. Crises might be contingent. There are also no kairoí like them. While Mandragola’s elegant levity and libertinism may well outperform the Principe’s, this eminently stageable comedy is still among the most popular plays of all time (7.2.3). From beginning to end, Machiavelli’s dramatic subtlety deals in diverse kinds of delegation and deceit. Withal, the Florentine consigliere utterly reworks the Latin myth. Rather than staging a state of war and violence, the play is almost entirely about rhetorical indirection, craft, fraud. Extortion and duress are replaced by guile, persuasion. In Mandragola, this distinctly Machiavellian shift of accent affects all levels; and highlights potential latencies by way of comparison. Unlike Tarquin, the male part is ready to wait for his chance; and able to coopt others with a view to bringing it about. Most significantly, nothing happens against the lady’s will. || 61 For the conceptualization in question, see Küpper (Cultural Net passim).

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Besides, the Early Modern playwright foregrounds a fact (latently) present in Ancient versions: Lucretia is a political actor always already. By virtue of thánatos or éros, her body—qua corpse or incubator—is the condition of possibility for the incisive ‘midwifery’ on the part of Lucius (or Lucrezia herself)—a ‘deliverance’ yielding a ‘Republic’. Mandragola may well be staging its female protagonist qua embodied hybrid of the prudently decisive actors in the Latin tale. The latter’s personae appear to handle their respective situations or accidents in an ad hoc manner. Machiavelli’s characters adapt to settings or coincidences they have been inciting and shaping all along. Any given—whether fictive or (supposedly) factual—could conduce to reading the universal plane implied therein. From the detailed and diverse, one might proceed to the global. Catalyzed by a variety of contingencies (accidents, passions, chances taken), the myth at issue displays a highly critical state—acutely perceived, expediently exploited, by one (wo)man’s virtue and virtuosity: any crisis a kairós.

Chapter 8: Otherwise. Rhetorical Techniques of Contradiction one cannot be certain of what can be otherwise. —Normore (“Divine” 22n.; with context)

Facing a world of contingencies—hence conflicting thoughts, facts, slants—will be a recurrent experience of most any human animal. Once the notion of otherwiseness has taken hold, it could display a tendency of affecting— perchance reshaping—nearly every thought, word, or performance. Stimulated by its disciplined awareness, methodical exploitation of else- and chancefulness, the téchne’s basic dynamics are of an adversative, antithetical, gainsaying character: what is need not be (thus). Appearing to be the case, it may well be else. Virtually anything can be ‘otherwised’ rhetorically. Not all options are as humane as those advancing by virtue of speech (be its make as it might). Grounded in its reckoning with contingency, the praxis of wordcraft enables effectual contradiction. As Aristotle stresses (at Rhet. 32–37, 1358b, I.iii.1–6)— conflict, opposition, objection, confutation are critical to all its genera. In view of a tradition dominating each and every aspect of oral and written cultural production for well over two millennia, any theory of gainsaying will have to reckon with the rhetorikè téchne—as a starting point, or one of departure. Proceeding diachronically, and focusing on the culturally formative role of oratory in (Late) Antiquity and Early Modern times, the present chapter accentuates the fundamental role assorted practices and devices of contradiction perform within the various rhetorical traditions—a decidedly agonistic system of

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diction from its earliest emergences in Hellenic courts of law, Sophistic eristic; and throughout its diverse phases of consolidation or reappropriation. Its segments concern the cultural role of Ancient and Early Modern oratory (8.2); tender a taxonomico-descriptive synopsis of terms, usages, techniques, and phenomena of gainsaying (8.3); discuss the functionality of argument in utramque partem with a view to a rhetorical poetics of contradiction (8.4); and present case studies concerning Augustine, Machiavelli, Gracián (8.5). Along said lines, one might describe a variety of craftful maneuvers pertaining to oratorical refutation: such as gainsaying by failing to do so, treating allegations to silence; by implication, qualifying, deflecting, reverberating; et caetera. Qua degreeful and contextual art, rhetoric will ever reckon with contingency: circumstances change; results may vary. Special attention is given to Quintilian’s elucidation of the altercating reciprocity between confirmation and refutation (8.3.1); as well as to assorted tools and modes of contradiction (8.3.2)—including a classic case in point (8.3.3). Probably the only conduct outperforming a qualified and habitual reckoning with positional contingency is provisionally enacting it (8.4). A dynamics of contention and contradiction informs the oratorical art’s vital principle of developing a general capacity for arguing “in utramque partem vel in plures” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.1). A habitualized ‘pro et contra on all sides to any question’ may take place virtually, in one mind. This elemental practice presupposes reckoning with, and exploiting, else- and chancefulness. Said technique offers the operative groundwork towards a rhetorical poetics of gainsaying. Positional contingency is vital to the téchne’s initial emergence, discursive history, continued application, and lasting effect on other disciplines. Eristic tendencies—polydirectional práxeis—might serve heuristic purposes. Should things not be otherwise, they could still be made to seem so—all views being contingent, prone to vary. Rhetoric is an art of appearances: the effectual is the factual. Words craft and produce the state of play or affairs. What may be uttered might as well be redescribed. Few tools are likely to perform perspectival contingency as strikingly as paradiastolé. Anything could be elsewise(d). The cultural relevance of oratory in Ancient or Early Modern lives and texts cannot be overestimated (8.5). Evincing the endorsement and adaptation of artfully oppositional techniques, brief case studies of works by Augustine (de civitate Dei, Retractationes), Machiavelli (Il Principe, Discorsi), Shakespeare (Measure for Measure), Gracián (Oráculo manual) are submitted as suggestive instances towards a more general poetics of contradiction. The segments on Augustine and Machiavelli (8.5.1) highlight a discursively induced, paradigmatic gainsaying—especially with a view to its structuring

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potentials. Both authors exhibit consummate skill in confutation. The Florentine downright frankly takes the oppositive side—antagonizing what would otherwise be deemed the ‘better’ (traditional, moral) argument. In the Oráculo manual y arte de prudencia, Gracián focuses on contradiction in differing settings and from various angles (8.5.2). Oratorically, effects depend on contexts. The latter are subject to chance and elseness. Under cultural conditions, the contingencies most frequently encountered are precisely others. It takes an artful rhetorician to know—hence potentially counteract—one. The Early Modern Jesuit presents acts of gainsaying as an operative art form toward various ends: qua tentative ruse, craftful alternative to coercion; as an investigative device, a policy for inviting further opposition. His aphorisms advocate contradiction qua verbalized (or tacit) antidote; as an agent of interpersonal warfare; an (auto-)pedagogic technique—among other uses. Human affairs are dominated by various sorts of elsewiseness—chance, diversity, assumptions, affects, circumstances, temporality. Rhetoric reckons, copes with—even exploits—contingency: things could be different, including standpoints. Its tools are polytropic, can be functionalized in sundry ways: heuristically, anticipatorily, catalytically, dispositively, tacitly, by implication, inversion. Tentatively describing calculated oratorical techniques and dynamics of contradiction may well conduce to a rhetorical poetics of otherwiseness. While wordcraft does not always kill with kindness, it often gainsays with ostensive sweetness. Based on a human faculty for elseness, the profuse field of artfully refined refutation will be a politic choice for tentative tillings. Rhetoric’s condition of possibility is reckoning with contingency; its gauge, victory.

Chapter 9: Make Life Art—An Immoral Imperative Sunt quibus alarum levitas vaga verberetque ventos[.] —Boethius (“Phil. Consolat.” 420, V.v.4.metrum)62

While humans are taken to be temporal beings constitutively, there are still options at their discretion, specifically as far as quality is concerned: philosophizing being one option; another to make life art. In manmade environments, chaos or chance can indeed be changed into form and order. Entropy might be the last word. Others may precede it.

|| 62 “There are those the lightness of whose wandering wings beats on the winds” (“Phil. Consolat.” 421, V.v.4.metrum). See Ps 139:9 (KJV; resp. 138:9, Vulgate); whereof there is no like.

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Whereas the complementary aspect—‘unmaking’ life altogether—is treated in the ensuing (10), the present chapter (9) deals with potentials for qualitative alteration; and investigates the ethical implications of a craftful rendition of life. In said respect, Nietzsche’s contemplations on living with a view to art—qua decidedly against morality—might serve as theoretical starting points: “being something akin to a work of art, existence is not even under the jurisdiction of morality” (KSA 11. 553, 36[10]; trans. dsm). Life’s potential aestheticizations are manifold. Options include vital shaping, superficial ornamentation, a correlation of outward form and stance within; plus outsourced renditions. For a receptive perspective—being another’s reader, observer, even connoisseur—will be of particular virulence also. The latter is insinuated by Lord Henry’s praise for Dorian: “Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets” (Wilde “DG [1891]” 179, XIX). Like the decay and recycling of particulars, matter is a given; but so is its potential for elseness (9.1). Even the inevitable might be seen, taken, made to appear otherwise. As rejoinders to life’s contingency, ‘amor fati’ or ‘plus ultra’ have seemed effectual. For the time being, concentrative, distilling devices could balance a natural limitedness and finality. Quality prevails over mortality. Considering the vast demand for intensity by proxy, some are societally compelled—or freely choose—to artify their lives (9.2). Techniques may well have a vital dimension—and immoral implications. If totalized, such a poetics might be beyond the pale—inasmuch as it would ignore others. The alleged ‘autonomy’ of art could come down to the coveted tyranny of its maker. The condition of possibility for refinements and makeovers is this animal’s constitutive capacity for otherwiseness: matters may be made to differ— including one’s own. Human crafts are among the fundamental “attempts at coping with contingency” (Marquard “Apologie” 130; trans. dsm). Experience seems to be a series of fortuities. In this world, the views of men are plural, not equal (9.3). Nor is such unsanitary. Ever will it be sobering to see things with a difference. From a rhetorical perspective, it may well be possible to deem, perceive, or enact everything in other ways than the given or apparent. Under said conditions, the past is as contingent as anything. Aware of a potential for elseness, one could also choose not to act upon it—and practice performative ignorance. As in Nietzsche, the immoral aspect pertaining to the reciprocity of life and art is brought out by Wilde’s epigrammatic flippancy— which ostentatiously explores and exploits any unethical potentials. Answers to chance’s reign of terror differ considerably, especially by virtue of their relative effectuality (to say naught of ethicality). While the moral arts are gregarious in nature and scope, a vital poetics will be singular (9.4). In a world of

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consummate contingency, living in accordance with one’s own craftful nature will be just as well and reasonable—though not to everybody else. Human art— or rather, its maker—inclines towards intensity, exclusivity, totalization. Such cannot but conduce to immoral implications. The imperative to ‘make life art’ may yield a tendency to atrophy any form of ethicality. Within a world of flux, stabilizing something is grounded in a prior state of contingency: even the patent fact of permanent variation may be otherwise. Art means to provide a framework for, impress a certain form on, a given material. At a more comprehensive level, the narrator’s or poet’s role in rendering life literarily—articulating all its aspects in an aestheticizing fashion—merits attention; and specifically with regard to refined renditions of ethical extremes such as problematic physical matters, suffering, death (9.5). When raw material is reduced to a terse form, the resulting work—wrought with brutal, ruthless stuff—will be received as cynical, thanks to this veritable simultaneity of cultivated make and unethical content. To the extent of being comprehensive, an artful rendition of life is constitutively immoral.

Chapter 10: Life Being Brief (No Need to Cut it Short)— Concerning Blumenberg’s Senecan Affinities brevity is power, earthbound[.] —Alford (Poetic Attention 2)

Discerning that even inevitabilities are susceptible of being taken otherwise, philosophy marks a decided cultivation of the distinctly human capacity for positional and perspectival contingency. In the case of certain animals— specifically those rumored to be rational—there appears to be a capacity for actively, knowingly, verbally altering their state of affairs: performing life artfully, say (9); or terminating it deliberately (10). During its brief history of presence (by a universal scale), humankind has dealt with death in differing ways; and is rather likely to carry on doing so. There is contingency even in the inescapable. For it may be seen otherwise—given a different reading. Like this world, words are subject to contingency. Being changeable, they may be different, not surface at all, or no longer. Inasmuch as matter is eternal, elseness will be unending. Yet its enabling effects must expire with the particular subject thereto. While alive, it empowers humans to take mortality in more than one way. Said enfranchisement includes virtual (aesthetic, rhetorical, poetico-hermeneutic), as well as factual options. Volition being natural, the animal in question will be at liberty to leave.

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Naturally possible, it cannot be excluded that certain life forms freely lend an artificial hand to their own leave-taking. A potential perception of contingency also enables preemptive conduct—having a hand in the change as must come anyway. It will be advantageous to deliberate thereon from a safe distance. There appears to be a tension between life’s being brief to begin with; and acts aimed at deliberately cutting it even shorter. Hence a tentative description of the various positions adopted in Antiquity concerning the capacity for showing oneself out might be complemented by reflections on its jarring with the fact that everybody’s time is limited anyway. Differing drastically from monotheistic religions, the Ancient, especially Stoic(izing) practice of self-induced departure is primarily a question of mode and manner; hence a matter of moral philosophy (10.2). Supporters of said School not only elaborated on the respective reasons; but also walked their talk indeed. Even so, the needful point of departure remains Plato’s ethopoetic version of Socrates (10.2.1). Ventriloquizing for the latter, the former has recourse to the notoriously elusive term ‘necessity’, which might signal a justified suicide. Throughout the tradition, this rationale will be taken up, and varied selectively— as applicable to the dogmatic or rhetorical needs at hand. Cicero’s reworkings may seem exemplary in said regard (10.2.2). Venerable models are not beyond replacement—all conventions being contingent. At last, willfulness—even tedium—could appear as plausible grounds for self-induced departures. Rationalizations tend to end up looking natural. In Epictetus, showing oneself out ahead of time marks an exit strategy based on personal preference and tolerance (10.2.3). If a life according to one’s ethos or intellectual desires—redescribed as ‘katà phýsin’—seems viable no longer, taking one’s leave is passable, Stoically requisite even. Whereas said diatribist promotes making a reasonable stand forbearingly (while one might), the decisive word on voluntary egress still remains that death is free for all. Any (noetic, physical) state may be conceived (of) as possibly else; or not at all. Being contingent, views will vary. Seneca shows considerable competence in tentative perspective taking (10.2.4). His dependable accent is agency—especially with respect to the otherwise unalterable. What remains a way out in Epictetus amounts to answering the door in Seneca. While not exactly invited, the ‘guest’ is not unwelcome. In this perspective—and never sans rhetorical relish—higher reason might justify a virtuously self-inflicted departure. Freedom of will is said orator’s ultima ratio: autonomy above all. He rejects that anything should inhibit this liberty. Seneca’s characteristic voluntarism seems to decidedly exceed Stoicizing tendencies (to say naught of Plato). He pushes plus ultra in his affirmation of acting wholly at one’s pleasure, should the

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bottom line be concerned. Suicide is justified as a device enabling freedom. In absenting oneself, the means is sheer volition; the aim, liberty—at all costs. Then again, the latter is a thoughtful independence mainly (as philosophical musings will display). The human mind may meditate on contingency—even while enacting it in so doing. Matters might be seen as being else (for better or worse)—including no longer at all. The sheer conceivability of suicide— irrespective of its endorsement—seems to quasi ‘necessitate’ otherwiseness, while ‘casualizing’ determinism (at least noetically). Seneca’s insatiable love of liberty leads him to endorse an Epicurean element: the ultimate contingency of voluntas. Its very existence may well be sheerly accidental; its choices coincidental, if not fortuitous altogether. Its capacities—and caprices—include virtually appresenting other wills. It seems able to discern—and free to negate—itself. Having no patience for the absolutisms of dogmatic rigor, Blumenberg is able to tie in with the Imperial Roman—precisely on account of his libertarian tendencies (10.2.4 to 10.3). Stressing the central issues of necessity, freedom (also from life), and contingency, his comparatistic setup signals the extent to which the Stoicizing orator may well be using said School against itself. In Seneca and Blumenberg, the exit strategy is offered as a liberating experiment of thought (10.3.1). Its cathartic effect does not depend on putting it into practice—on the contrary. Open-ended deliberations on leaving can function as a provisional failsafe: should matters become unbearable, there is a way out. While a capacity for such insight will vary, time does tend to seem short, once noticed. Life is already fleet by nature—why even care to curtail it artificially. This issue, intensified by Seneca, is latent in most discussions of suicide (10.3.2). Brevity is vital throughout Blumenberg’s œuvre. Inasmuch as worth tends to be assessed by relative availability, the added value of life lies precisely in its transience. Likely, thrift, speed, intensity are among the more effectual rejoinders to man’s shortcomings. Answering to scantness, economy might aim at maximizing or saving a given good. Not to dissipate one’s resources will be complementary to making the most of them. Withal—and especially in this matter—Blumenberg’s approach is both rhetorical and anthropistic. Hence brevitas in terms of content may be related to that of form (10.3.3). Any life of labor is likely to deplete a limited being ultimately. Knowledge that relief is always already on the way could give pause, and so release ancillary energies. From certain vantage points, there can be no rationality in abridging deliberately what tends to end rather sooner than later. Then again, life is not (so) reasonable. In view of physical necessities—and human inhumanities—to forego being forced might come to seem most sound. In

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view of said animal’s (ethical) limitations, the act of sacrificing sheer extension to a needful excision could rest on natural grounds. Before ceasing, almost anything may yet be else. All matter being subject to contingency, the human form holds a potential for manipulating it—virtually at will. Like changes, denials, redescriptions of the given are enabled by a capacity for thinking in said terms: one might see things differently; else refuse to do so. Keeping in mind that matters could always be otherwise—or not at all—will likely amount to a virtual independence from circumstances (10.4). They tend to be susceptible of partial modifications; failing that, at least of rhetorical redescription, diverse assessments, differing vistas. Wordplay may come down to adding another alveolar lateral thereto. Contemplation itself—as well as the act of notation—already alters a given state of affairs (if virtually). Facilitated by contingency, noetico-verbal experiments may well have a liberating effect—precisely per se (not to mention actions taken). Finding and using suitable substitutions is an art in itself. Despite it all, options remain available. Said relief is not revoked by whether or not they are put into effect.

Chapter 11: Blumenberg’s Rhetoric—With a Case Study on Fontane dos cosas: sutileza y erudición[.] —Gracián (Agudeza II. 392, XXXIV)63

Conceived as an exploratory take on the philosopher’s œuvre by way of the téchne kat’ exochén, this reading has recourse to Blumenberg’s rhetoric in theoreticodiscursive (11.1), applied (11.2), and poetico-hermeneutic (11.3) regards. Said philosopher is a rhapsodic thinker, writer; precisely not a systematician: neither in general, nor of wordcraft in particular. His écriture marks a mise en abyme of its basic condition of possibility: an awareness as to contingency. Proceeding along the lines of Blumenberg’s noetic pathways—as sedimented in his works—a saying by Nicholas of Cusa may seem utile: “sola humana arte” (cited in: “Nachahmung [2001]” 13). Like phainómena, sententiae are contingent: hermeneutically, hypoleptically; in contextual encounters with one another. Via the technique of free variation, such coincidences might as well be crafted. A Blumenbergian leitmotif, said motto may be taken as a distillation of his thought (11.1). For it epitomizes ground swells and specific accents, intellectual

|| 63 “two things: subtlety and erudition” (trans. dsm). See the parallels in Gracián (Arte de ingenio 311, XXXIII; spec. with 217, XVI; plus Agudeza I. 193, XVII).

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or intertextual commitments, fundamental choices and basic procedures of his œuvre: the manifold interrelations of this world, humankind, and art (sensu lato). In a temporal realm, contingency is inescapable: almost everything may well be else, or not at all (11.1.1). Like its denial, change will attract attention; and could become the chief or sole concern of this animal’s curiositas: ‘quod supra vel infra—nil ad nos’ (see Legitimität 276n. plus 354n.). While exploring the limits, sounding the depths, said remark’s polysemy centers on that which lies between: ‘what is above or beneath—naught to us’. A human, pragmatic focus will be on this world. Be it supra, infra, nihil—the constant is that nos precisely. Then again, diverting attention from a given matter to some tertium (below, beyond, or else) may be functionalized with a view to clarifying one’s present position. By seeing things otherwise, one might first of all perceive what is actually at hand. Enabled by contingency, perspective taking is also a means to ascertain—and indirectly (re)confirm—a given observer’s current stance and focal points; as well as their potential elseness. Said mode may be exploited methodically. Blumenberg’s écriture displays a respective habit. Be the forays and indirections as manifold, mutable as they might—or even downright metaphysical momentarily: the philosopher’s basis remains the world at hand; its problematic animal; the latter’s forms of craftiness. Like the Socratic, this “philosophy” is “of human things” (Legitimität 284; trans. dsm)—in all its phenotypes (11.1.2). Endorsing a virtually Promethean mode, it deals—and is concerned—with thought qua ‘brought back down to earth’. For the time being, it will be vital to remain matter-of-fact. Such sobriety is exemplarily propounded by Aristotle’s pragmatic nexus of rhetoric and an entechnic moral philosophy. In said respect, Blumenberg’s Aristotelico-Moralistic hypolépseis mark a most evocative uptake, offering qualitative reappreciations and varied elaborations. In order to temporarily prevail within a realm of contingency—and over its týchai—a ‘cave-made’ arsenal of téchnai, assorted forms of indirection, will be needful (11.1.3). Blumenberg’s characteristically inductive approach, discursive ductus, virtuoso rhapsodies may well tender a mise en abyme thereof. The philosopher credits detours with a culturing effect. The pragmatic art of wordcraft and affine techniques exert a humanizing influence—tacitly, subcutaneously refining the animal in question. Diachronically, rhetoric has proven its expediency qua cultural attainment. Relieved thereof, said species is unlikely to still be free for anything else. Like týche, téchne exploits the fact that—in this world, based on matter— things may be else, or not at all. In a realm of contingency, even plowshares might cut like swords—it being said animals that use tools (or waive handling them).

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Blumenberg takes the art as an all-purpose perspective on—and adaptable approach to—factuality. Qua set of variable techniques and coping strategies (including the solace of sound-mindedness), this modus operandi simultaneously articulates a bearing toward the world that reckons with contingency. The extent to which the philosopher’s noetico-verbal processing is oratorical may be inferred from his habitually attending to the other side(s) also. At once, he endorses sedimented elsewiseness by a diligent culture of memoria. The œuvre yields a conservatory for the scope of human ways in thought and performance. Blumenberg advances a rhetorical take on the scholarly, scientific, aesthetic matters dealt with. In so doing, his perspective on the téchne comes into view, as well. To tentatively describe the philosopher’s written practice of eloquence, heuristic recourse to its first three ‘offices’ may seem suitable (11.2). Induced by immense industry, Blumenberg’s erudite inventio is supradisciplinary, decidedly Humanistic (11.2.1). Withal, functional thinking and disposing will be as arch-oratorical as structuring one’s writings in utramque partem vel in plures (11.2.2). Mindful of positional and perspectival contingency, ‘free variation’ might noetically perform, and verbally enact, a (virtual) changing of viewpoints, a ‘simulation’ of conceivabilities—characteristic for Blumenberg’s noetic pathways and the economy of his écriture. In certain respects, the standard formula ‘in other words’ may be taken to condense the tasks of inventio, dispositio, elocutio—being a heuristic guideline for finding variants; a tentative principle of selective repetition, judicial variation; and a subtle or pregnant reminder that a given diction may well be else (11.2.3). With a view to learning wariness, the téchne kat’ exochén remains the most time-honored means. By virtue of refined irony, elaborate understatement, sundry delicacies between the lines, Blumenberg enacts elocutionary indirection emphatically, employs a poetics of the en passant—much like Montaigne, Fontane. Tentative, makeshift, contingent formulations are downright distinctive for the philosopher’s poetic conduct. Accentuating the very humanity of writing, his cultivated diction ‘hesitates’. Blumenberg’s écriture is tantamount to tarrying turned textual. Taking advantage of potential latencies, subtilitas might be perceived qua prudent abstinence from over-articulation. Contingency allows for diverse modes; including via others—or their texts— in order to say or insinuate something else withal. The philosopher’s applied reception yields rhetoric in action. He may be read as a reader of readers—here, Fontane (11.3). Said hermeneutics is a performative poetics simultaneously. Lives of cultivated perusal turn into written ones—elucidating those of others. The formula “hellhörig lesen” (Vor allem 39)—suggested and practiced by Blumenberg in his reception of the Ruppinian writer—might be seen as précising

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a prudent reader’s condition of possibility generally speaking. Even so, anyone having perused said virtuoso prosaist may well wish to consent that his écriture renders requisite an exceptional attentiveness to the all but elusive silences—to its tacit insinuations, a poet’s restrained delicacy, artful discretion. Blumenberg’s intimation of “Fontanes Subtilität” (Vor allem 32) is pertinent beyond the immediate plausibility of its descriptiveness, in simultaneously pointing to the rhetorical genus subtile—ostensively characterized by a smooth purity, flowing svelteness, lithe elegance. Yet precisely in its plainly evident simplicity, seeming effortlessness, said style attains to the artful desideratum par excellence: to be concealing the very craft involved. Hardly would it be an overstatement to deem Fontane the paragon of Germanophone literature in this respect. For legion are the cases where “a phrase, from which one does not expect much[,] […] may mean too much – or not more” (Blumenberg Vor allem 83; trans. dsm): contingency in application. By way of induction, one might lift particular instances to a plane of greater generality. Dexterity, artful concealment downright exemplify the subtle style. Be it Effi’s covert superbia or Wrangel’s latent ira, a writer in the genus subtile but insinuates—leaving, tacitly delegating, any eliciting of conceivable implications to the recipients. Matters may be viewed differently; or fail to be perceived at all. Blumenberg’s reading of Fontane is singularly valuable in describing— bringing out, to the fore—the latencies of the latter’s écriture. This philosopher’s acute essays evince the effectual interplay of reading and writing—the hermeneutic potential of a poetic approach to a grand writer of subtle prose.

Chapter 12: Blumenberg’s Fauna L’élégance inattendue nous enivre. —Valéry (“Eupalinos” 130)64

Everybody’s matter has been else; hence is likely to change again. Contingency is not sans foundation in experience. Positions differ in space, time. Views vary. The virtual ability to think in terms of otherwiseness—abstracting from a current stance and angle—will likely be the distinctive trait of that occasionally rational animal, which has swerved from nature’s presentist course. These are lifeforms with a potential—and sometimes actual—capacity for adopting the

|| 64 In Rilke’s rendering: “Die Eleganz, auf die wir nicht gefaßt waren, hat etwas Berauschendes” (Eupalinos [Rilke] 100). To say nothing of Χάρις incarnate.

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viewpoints of others, and speaking on their behalf. In all probability, said maneuvers are only possible where a spatial distance does obtain. Contingency is the condition of possibility for such vicarious and delegative techniques. Not only things may be otherwise: “Man is an extreme shifter of standpoints” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 879; trans. dsm). The animal addicted to perspective taking neither could, nor will, let it be; or anything, for that matter. Grounded in its perception of contingency, the empirico-elemental capacity for adopting various viewpoints becomes particularly unmistakable when involving rather different lifeforms. Implementations are encountered in literary representations especially. The latter also allow for rhetorical ventriloquisms, giving voice to a respective alter’s stance and angle. This reading (12) proceeds from a theoretical section (12.2)—concerned with the conditio sine qua non for such essays of noetico-virtual vicariousness—to an exploratory application of said human capacity par excellence (12.3). Blumenberg accentuates that—as regards an “experience of the other”— Husserl’s Phenomenology “extends” to all lifeforms (Beschreibung 272; trans. dsm). It will comprise a virtual “appresentation” of their corresponding bodies (Beschreibung 314; trans. dsm); hence semiotic habits and conduct (12.2). Insofar as an experience of other animals does take place, some kind of parity—beyond factual differences—will obtain. Virtual accommodation is possible. If a gradual likeness can be perceived or effected between (apparent) lifeforms, appresentation is basically feasible; hence could occur on occasion. Be its make as it may, any alter’s inside remains inaccessible in its immediacy. Tending not to accept their limitations—while advancing plus ultra in all matters—the animals at issue will not be hindered by the inevitable, but opt for seeing things otherwise. Evinced by their hypertrophic activities—in the arts and crafts, theoretical or practical sciences, in philosophies and stories—human beings tend to go further beyond in potentiality also. A capacity for contingency is the catalyst; and a liberation from the constraints of spatio-temporal proximity. While it is fundamentally unfeasible to access the immediacy of another’s ‘interior’ directly, it may be provisionally approached. Articulations conceived and written with a view to the experiences or thoughts pertaining to other lives remain “hypothetical” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 275; trans. dsm; see 315). Thinking in ‘subjunctive’ terms will be grounded in the human capacity for contingency: even the unchangeable may be altered in thought and theory. Enabled by said awareness, the Phenomenological technique of free variation defuses definitional fixations by virtue of possibilities and simultaneities. In a close reading, Blumenberg’s animals are described by recourse to phenomenistic thought experiments: contingent, provisional, artfully articulated

Synopses | 53

perspectives on other lives—tentatively taken, and varied freely (12.3). Where direct and immediate perception of some interior is (currently, generally) unattainable, a virtual—theoretico-vicarious—(re)presentation can compensate for a factually impossible one. Narratives relating to other animals implement the capacity to virtually shift one’s stance and angle. The technique of free variation represents that most fundamental human possibility in application. The one procedure still more expedient than argument ‘also on the other side’ will be a pluralization of perspectives. The Blumenbergian essai in question amounts to a mise en abyme. For readerly appresentation performs precisely the proxying procedure intratextually described. A poetic fiction may well take the place of a constitutive inaccessibility— ‘filling’, even ‘animating’ it. Since such attempts deliberately abstain from laying claim to factuality (much less truth), they are capable of conserving the sine qua non of oratory and practical philosophy alike: liberty—for all of the involved.

Chapter 13: Virtuosity and Effectuality Phèdre, Phèdre, l’impiété manque de grâce en ces lieux. Ici n’étant point de foudre, le blasphème n’a point de mérites… —Valéry (“Eupalinos” 111)65

Virtuosity marks a general potential for elseness in application. Any form of craft comes down to a polypurposive endeavor. Its condition of possibility—as well as its prime target—is contingency. Arising, changing, perishing, reviving—variable are the things of this world. It is observable that matters tend to—hence may—be otherwise. Certain animals might have (had) a hand therein. The rivalry of téchne and týche is Ancient. Not even the most consummate craft could obliterate Fortune. While artifice aims at countering accidents, the casual will always also be of human make, at least in part. Anything this versatile animal interacts with obtains a technical quality. Ever are said lifeforms deluged by details and data. Quasi inevitably, much remains chanceful. Yet making sense is vital. Fortuities may appear providential. Should there—just so—happen to be no grounds, they might be crafted: téchne and týche could become indistinguishable. Imitating, exploiting Fortune— devising accidents, ostensive coincidences—has proven expedient for millennia.

|| 65 “Phaidros, Phaidros, die Gottlosigkeit ist ohne Anmut an diesem Ort. Es gibt hier keinen Blitz, und so ist die Lästerung ohne Verdienst” (Eupalinos [Rilke] 78).

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With respect to the animal in question, a realm of sheer contingency is the best world possible. Mindful that matters might be otherwise(d), humankind will push any perceived frontier into an ever receding beyond. Of global application, the polytropic téchne offers a protean conglomerate of versatile—elastic, expedient—designs and devices to said end (13.1). Storing, preserving, imparting, insinuating, advocating the arts of (noetic, emotional) manipulation, rhetoric amounts to an impartial arsenal open to all. Qua praxis, it forms, frames, shapes, deploys, reworks a (tangible or virtual) material. To be reckoning with otherwiseness marks the noetic condition for verbal virtuosity. Advantages are to be taken; of linguistic contingencies withal. The fact or view that aught may well be else—or not at all—might be exploited at whim. Any artifact will be an attempt at impact. Said focus is decidedly rhetoricoSophistic. In an early treatise influenced by Poe, Valéry asserts: “Literature is the art of toying with the soul of others” (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm). With respect to a manipulator’s craftfully handled power over his ‘material’, the parrhesiastic philosopher speaks of “cette brutalité scientifique” (“technique” 1786). Said poet’s relish could not be farther from Kant’s horror at oratory’s crafty wiles—seen to ‘move humans like machines’ (at KU 221n., B217, [328], §53). As always, resentment is poor counsel. Hence his attempt at ostracizing rhetoric will be baseless (13.2). Diachronically and de re, a strict severance of poetry from the latter seems untenable—there being no fundamental difference in technique. Effect is the overriding objective—whether in poetic or oratorical contexts. Apodictically curbing the art’s elasticity has never succeeded. It remains a protean, universal téchne—capable of accommodating the requirements of most any situation. The specific application of generic tools is contingent. Instruments are indifferent to their handlers. Employing rhetorical modes for anti-oratorical claims has been philosophy’s distinctive characteristic since Plato—though few attained to his artfulness in this form of professional malpractice. His attacking the téchne qua devious, inveigling, manipulative must not conceal the plain rhetoricity of Kant’s basic standards. The theorist has—and takes—an interest in construing art as free therefrom. His respective postulate might be inverted: aesthetic products seem effectual to the extent of conceivably (or covertly) projecting their ‘disinterestedness’. When dazed by the ingrained unworldliness of Enlightenment moralizing— or nonplussed by the furor of Romanticist Platonizing—recourse to certain Ancient and Early Modern takes is likely to have a sobering effect (13.3). Literary virtuosity, technical skill, effectual manipulation, are elementally circumstantial. Environments matter. Milieus differ. Material is contingent. Even venerable themes and authorities are susceptible of being (made) otherwise.

Synopses | 55

Else- and chancefulness being free for all, Machiavelli effectually employs— or abuses—highly floatational themes and tales (13.3.1). To the extent that the history of humankind is on record, the Florentine will surely be among the most virtuoso manipulators—in textual respects, as well. Like an Athenian aristocrat before him, the consigliere artfully ventriloquizes on all sides—placing feckful words into the mouths of manifold personae. If Machiavelli’s manipulation of Scripture had seemed mala fide, Gracián’s practicing the audience management he preaches will hardly fall far behind (13.3.2). Throughout, the Pocket Oracle employs and performs what it counsels. Its aphorisms offer a wide array of techniques for accommodating recipients. Ear- or eyeful repetition with variation will be the most frequent tool for tampering with audiences, readerships. Moreover, there is always also the device of voicefully sugarcoating each and all. Rhetorically, human resources pertain to settings. Being material, they might be modified deliberately. Masters of highly cultivated poetics, Poe and Valéry accentuate and advocate a willful manipulation of contingent recipients. Sophistic affinities being quasi explicit, the Francophone practitioner and theorist articulates his stance with considerable harsh- and frankness—candidly stressing the measure of impact above all (13.4.1). Valéry’s mode, drift, and focus are plainly rhetorical. With respect to a downright virtuoso recipient handling, Poe’s “Philosophy of Composition” will be pivotal (13.4.2). The process described is arch-oratorical: an assembling, combining, refunctionalizing of extant shapes, devices, set pieces—with utilitas always in view (“totality, or unity of effect”, “Composition” 677). What humans are ever already primed for is subject to otherwiseness. Moods and minds may well be tampered with deliberately—influencing, stimulating, manufacturing a recipient’s present state of heart or head. Contingent conditions permit varied iterations. An artist might deliberately allow—and, to a certain extent, provide—for the space and time this takes. Poe’s descriptively verisimilar, theoretico-performative poetics repeats with variation the very theory—and terms referring to the precise process—it describes. Like any matter, internal affairs are subject to contingency—perchance, a fortiori. What can be else naturally—might also be manipulated artfully: effects are in- and producible. From the perspective of poets, this state of play yields the variable terrain, whereon their virtuoso rationality may well assert its supremacy. Considering Machiavelli’s interplay of poetics and power politics—or Gracián’s courtly synergy of textual artifice and pragmatic counsel—Kant’s doctrine cannot but seem unworldly. In a rhetorico-technical—hence syn- and diachronically polyfunctional—perspective, a purposively ‘depragmatized’ take on literature can never actually apply, having no fundamentum in re.

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Technically, one is facing downright human, resourceful, expedient modes and maneuvers for rendering virtually anything likely, compelling, memorable. Audience management, artful fraud—a suave employment of force—would seem the cultural way to proceed. All things considered, ‘lógos’ will be just another paradiastolic term for expedient forms of indirection. Matter being contingent, so are the forms temporarily impressed: they cannot but differ (like agents); but might as well be otherwised deliberately. Makers may have (had) a hand therein. Manipulation is the nature of art. Art is human nature. Techniques will be versatile, reapplicable, polyfunctional—per se indifferent to handlers, milieus: but human beings are never so (not even natural scientists). Depending on the context, similar virtuosities may yield divergent, incompatible reactions, verdicts, corollaries. For said animals are contingencies to the same.

2.6 Provisional Notes on Method Le doute n’est pas un état bien agréable, mais l’assurance est un état ridicule. —Voltaire (Correspondance XV. 265, §8098)66 heuristische Verfeinerung[.] —Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 145; trans. dsm)67

In approaching the complex of redoubtable phenomena at issue, the present study proceeds along Aristotelian lines. As far as is assessable from the extant works, the Stagirite addresses the matter of contingency sensu lato time and again, in various contexts, and from different angles. Whereas a basic drift is discernible in said attempts—taking seriously, while not overstating, týche—they are not thoroughly streamlined in all details and taxonomies. The reasonably neat terminologies encountered in tertiary literature do not map onto the field in question conclusively. Chance will also—perhaps especially—have its say in theoretical efforts at detaining (let alone defining) it. There can be no teleology of týche.68 Ever dealing with decidedly human quest(ion)s, the ‘history’ of philosophy neither is, nor could be, a linear process.

|| 66 In the same letter of Nov 28, 1770 (to Frederick William II of Prussia), Voltaire cites (t)his notorious line: “Si Dieu n’existait pas, il faudrait l’inventer” (Correspondance XV. 265, §8098; cf. 265n.). See Blumenberg, de re (Matthäuspassion 101; plus Zambon Nachleuchten 76). 67 “heuristic refinement” (infinitized; trans. dsm). 68 Cf. and contrast von Graevenitz/Marquard (“Vorwort” XII; still, but a ‘working hypothesis’); with Rohde, perceiving “historisch variierende[…] Ausprägungen von Kontingenz”: “Es gibt offensichtlich kontingenzaffine Epochen” (54); i.e. in terms of the resp. conceptualizations.

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While spiraling mayhap, the returns are manifold; likewise the natural amnesias, willful obscurings, literal reinventions. Taking its bearings from Aristotle’s mode and suggestions, the endeavor at hand will emphatically not tender a grand récit. Being plausible, diachronicity is a rhetorical tool—not a token of truth; or else but a temporary one. A historical order(ing) is prized in terms of dispositio precisely. For it accommodates noeticocultural habits prevalent in the West. Even so, there is art in the roundabout also. Concerned with theory, the present study’s first part (chapters 3 and 4) uses a basically diachronic organization (for the time being). It commences with a commentary on Aristotle’s expediently politic attempts at describing contingency from various angles; proceeds to Quintilian’s rhetorical take on ‘accidentals’; offers an outline of developments from Augustine to Medieval and Early Modern Nominalism; and provisionally closes with a conceptual précis, mainly by recourse to scholarship situated at the turn of the millennium. Dealing with methods, the second part (chapter 5) could not but feature a transtemporal cast. Approaches may be honed; bents recur, remain. A rather cyclic design is inscribed into the very concept of ‘techniques’ or ‘modi operandi’. Concentrating on rhetorico-poetic applications, the third part combines the vectorial and iterative. The studies on Celestina (6), Mandragola, Lucrece (7), are related thematically, historically. Contradiction—whether artful or everyday—is an anthropine phenomenon as old as speech itself, hence of transtemporal import (8). The same will go for a performative mise en scène of life per se (9). From a ‘philosophistic’ perspective, the fourth part opens with deliberations concerning the timeless query of human brevity—answers to which are arranged in a tentatively diachronic manner (10). Blumenberg’s rhetoric (11) takes history as a fund of possibilities, a workshop of the mind: refinements are likely, subtleties conceivable—but will also be lost and found, along the way. Virtually putting oneself in another’s place (12) downright instantiates the anthropic capacity for suspending or transcending temporal limitations. Faced with otherwiseness ambulant, virtuosity will be paramount at all times (13). Proceeding from Aristotle’s topico-methodical waymarks, the present study tenders a phenomenistics of contingency sensu lato. Its four parts—theoretical, methodical, applicative (rhetorico-poetically, philosophistically)—offer attempts at circling in on something shifty, indefinable. Such elusiveness seems to call for inductive, provisional, thematic, polyperspectival, descriptive approaches.69

|| 69 Cf. Aristotle as to “expect[ing] that amount of exactness […] which the nature of the particular subject admits” (NE 9, 1094b, I.iii.4; “den Grad von Genauigkeit […], den die Natur der Sache zuläßt”, Nikomach. Ethik 3).

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Accordingly, the applications in parts three and four—concerned with a mise en scène of elsewiseness, with noetico-poetic performances in the face, and by virtue, of contingency—can be perused separately; in a different sequence; combined with other segments. While chapter 6 patently resonates with 7 and 9— as does the latter with 10—the methodical considerations in 5 also link to 10, 11, 12. Sections 7, 8, and 13 are fundamentally affine. Since any given order will be provisional, this study’s dispositio may well be otherwise(d)—yielding further interplays between rhetoric and contingency. Potential rearrangements are delegated to the reader’s interests and discretion. In view of its tendency to seem plausible, a vectorial principle of organization will be of rhetorico-heuristic value. Aiming at a phenomenistics of chancefulness sensu lato, the endeavor at hand cannot but have a thematic bent and bearing. Withal, a Skeptical abstinence from theticalities, teleological metanarratives would likely render last words out of place, whence this work will end as it began.

| Theories Concepts of—and Approaches to—Contingency

3 Aristotle’s Contingency Variants in the Physics, Metaphysics, Eudemian Ethics, Magna Moralia, and Perì Hermeneías (Plus References to de caelo, et alia) Neue Bildung […] hat schon genug Konjunktur […]. Hier geht es […] um alte Bildung, um Bildung aus der Vergangenheit. Der Verfasser hält Bildung für eine Form des Bewahrens[.] —Fuhrmann (Bildung 6)1 a commentary, a somewhat obsolete mode of discussion that deserves a return to favor. —Mansfield (Modes 7)2

Ad fontes, as far as possible: after the Fall of Byzantium (at the latest), not being a native speaker of Ancient Greek has been a most unfortunate condition shared by most academics. Rather than abandoning a perusal of the sources on account of one’s—undisputed—linguistic inadequacies, it will be meet to endorse the lesser of two evils, and take to facing-page editions.3 Written with a view to trans-disciplinary convenience, the study at hand is expressly humanistic—hence comparatist—in thrust and scope. Along said lines, recourse to the bilingual—and accessible—Classical Library in the Loeb series is prioritized. While not feasible in every instance, decidedly polyglot notes put the text into perspective, adducing versions, rewordings, alternative interpretations. Needless to say, a reasonable approach cannot fail to take into account what may seem obsolete, oblique, imprecise, equivocal, infelicitous, even misguided prima facie.4 Not always will the readable rendition also be the most elucidating

|| 1 “New education […] is sufficiently en vogue […]. Old education, education [and formation] from[—by way and virtue of—]the past[,] is […] here at stake. The author considers education a form of conserving” (trans. dsm). Bearing in mind the polysemy of ‘Bildung’, one might also trans. ‘education pertaining to the past’; ‘educating or forming (oneself) by recourse to the past’. 2 For the various meanings “qu’on donne au mot de commentaire” (même), see Isaac’s lucid remarks (153–154; here 153). For the present context, cf. Fuhrmann (Spätantike 150); Kablitz (“Petrarkismus” 113n.–114n.); Küpper (“Philology” 146n.). Generally, see Mansfield: “the task of commentary leads to the duty of criticism of its own motion and does not need to begin from a critical stance” (Modes 7). In other words: proceeding inductively, a scholar’s critical function is incidental to her, resp. his, primarily and predominantly descriptive profession. Thanks to their deductive proclivities, critics are typified by reversing the process and weighting. 3 In general, see Amslinger’s citation from an unpublished fragment on Blumenberg’s part (224). The latter stresses “daß keine Übersetzung die Begegnung mit dem originalen Zeugnis ersetzen kann” (“sprachliche Wirklichkeit” 428)—his desideratum being “Begriffsursprünge mit Hilfe der uns noch zugänglichen Zeugnisse zu verfolgen” (“sprachliche Wirklichkeit” 429). 4 Cf. “es kann ja fallweise aus basal Schiefem etwas partiell Vernünftiges resultieren” (Küpper “Performanz” 11). Contingency prevails—even with respect to quality. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-003

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or advantageous. As with interpersonal disagreements, translational variants, interpretive divergences, even textual deviations are of heuristic value outright. Tendered as a resource for further research, this study’s copia makes no claim beyond offering a tentative attempt at conducing to inventio. Fully searchable in its digital formats, the new millennium’s technological possibilities should be of service for processing data in terms of quantity, acceleration. Even so, quality must remain the Humanistic mainstay. Attention to nuances marks the onset of scholarship—and ensures its conservation: “in fundamental respects, thinking means differentiating (κρίνειν)” (Küpper “Denken” 249; trans. dsm).5 Progressivist presumptions or credulities are rejected unreservedly. Faced with a tradition of well over two millennia (here), the sheer idea that erudition of recent decades could be ‘dated’—else that of past centuries ‘antiquated’—can hardly avoid sounding preposterous.6 While inductive, descriptive, tentative, noncomprehensive takes are unlikely to satisfy specialists, they may well work as contrast agents, enabling a shift of focus, angle—if ex negativo.7 The foremost aim of scholarship is to serve heuristic purposes—accompanied by occasional nuances (or abysses) in the fine print.8 The present study advocates a rhetorical approach to chanceful phenomena; and to the Stagirite’s handling thereof. Allowing for the directedness of his modus operandi, limning the language used—inquiring into its tendency, the discursive cui bono—this take will likely differ considerably from orthodox efforts. Using Ancient parlance, the endeavor at hand will pertain to the Sophistic rather emphatically; whence (latent) Platonizers will be truly disinterested. Then again, such a posture may yield pleasure even so (as per Kant); and perhaps hedoné is the root of all—be it judged good or evil, as the case or stance might be.9 || 5 Plus context: “Denken ist wesentlich unterscheiden (κρίνειν) – seit den […] Anfängen der Rationalität gilt diese konzise Formel, an deren Berechtigung wohl bis auf den heutigen Tag niemand ernsthaft Zweifel würde anmelden wollen” (“Denken” 249). With respect to Szondi, Küpper adds: “scholarship begins” with “careful […] attention both to what is actually being said in the text, and to how it is being said” (“Encounter” 46). A “‘po(i)etic’” element (Alford Poetic Attention 8) will likely be the transgeneric rule, considering the polydirectional interplay—and simultaneity—of “process and product” (Poetic Attention 9). Cf. subchs. 5.1.3 and 5.2.2, herein. 6 As Kablitz pertinently accentuates: “das Postulat beständiger Innovation [‘trägt’] auch ein Moment der Selbstzerstörung in sich” (Neuzeit 12n.). Withal: “für […] Neuheit ist der Rückgriff auf Altbewährtes […] durchaus von Nutzen” (Neuzeit 44). 7 It will be a valid télos of scholarship to be conducing to the same. See the onset of ch. 5, herein. 8 In Bubner’s felicitous collocation: “heuristic refinement” (Geschichtsprozesse 145; trans. dsm). 9 Cf. Schopenhauer on logic’s emergence: “Als unter den Eleatikern, Megarikern und Sophisten die Lust am Disputiren sich immer mehr entwickelt hatte und allmälig fast zur Sucht gestiegen war, mußte die Verwirrung, in welche fast jede Disputation gerieth, ihnen bald die

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In diverse loci (tentatively traced in the ensuing), the Stagirite deals with the complex of contingency sensu lato—involving ‘automatisms’, ‘spontaneities’, symptoms, accidents, coincidences, fortune, chance (inter alia). Of synoptic nature necessarily, the present treatment expressly disclaims completeness—in view of Aristotle’s extensive œuvre, not least. The final accent will be on a seminal section in perì hermeneías (de interpretatione), to be described in more detail (3.7); and discussed in utramque partem vel in plures, later (4.2).10 In the Physics, the affine prima philosophia, he reflects on ‘the accidental’ at some length; hence may be observed while exploring chance’s conceivable an, quid, quale sit. These takes partly overlap, intersect; are to be treated conjointly.11 A certain amount of iterations will not only be inevitable; but actually of value with a view to evincing that the philosopher tackles the respective set of problems repeatedly, from various angles.12 Said fact could be taken to signal the latter’s significance, precarious status; and perhaps not incidentally.13 Due to the phenomenon’s elusive nature, a final word on chance is unlikely indeed (mayhap not ever pro bono).14 Nor does the present investigation presume to submit such.15 In most of the Stagirite’s extant works, one is facing ‘esoteric’ writings.16 The latter are largely ‘acroamatic’ lectures, logs, transcripts, the compilation (hence

|| Nothwendigkeit eines methodischen Verfahrens fühlbar machen” (WWV I. 85, I.9). Similarly for Medieval (Aristotelianizing) ‘Scholastics’ (“disputirsüchtig[…]”, “begierig”, WWV I. 87, I.9). 10 As to the latter, see spec. subch. 8.4, herein. 11 Aristotle’s tracts on (Meta)Physics interlace. Cf. Wicksteed (lxi; Phys. 1–4. 163n.); Ross (13). 12 In general, Ross plausibly affirms: Aristotle “did not deal with a subject once and for all, but returned to it again and again” (17). As to a fundamentally affine topic, von Fritz observes “mit welcher Sorgfalt Aristoteles alle möglichen Aspekte der Frage in Betracht gezogen hat” (“Das ἄπειρον” 683). Cf. Vogt on the Stagirite’s dealing with chance (109); the context is problematic. 13 Küpper notes that, ultimately, one can hardly “draw PHILOLOGICALLY dependable conclusions as to the question of ‘contingency in Aristotle’”, precisely on account of problems, uncertainties concerning the corpus—being “lecture or seminar transcripts”, proceedings, excerpts “on the part of students”. In some measure at least, this fact(or) or “characteristic explains the numerous repetitions, unevennesses”, even “contradictions”. While likely “redacted”, revised, reworked, the extent of Aristotle’s involvement in this process can no longer be ascertained with confidence (in many cases); wherefore any approach to his work cannot but “incorporate a speculative component” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; Dec 4, 2019; trans. dsm). See the gloss below. 14 On the implications of these parentheses, cf. ch. 13 (spec. its onset, and 13.1, 13.5), herein. 15 The typical outcome of any investigation into contingency appears to be what Normore prudently places at the end of his indispensable synopsis concerning Medieval speculations in this overall field: “We seem to have come full circle” (“Future” 381). Cf. subch. 2.3, herein. 16 The signifier ‘Aristotle’ marks a quasi metonymic shorthand for: ‘the traditionally accepted author of a largely esoteric, acroamatic corpus, pertaining to the perípatos, circulating in cultural networks since Antiquity; likely made up of lectures, logs, extracts; compiled, at least partly ed.,

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traditional order) of which is not usually deemed definitive—by contrast to the lost exoterica.17 As a matter of course, this results in regular overlays, (partial) repetitions, parallel passages—in terms of the general content, specific wordings. With regard to the dispositio of descriptive approaches, it may thus seem permissible to provisionally rearrange certain segments into discursive or thematic clusters—as applicable to the respective endeavor. Last but not least, a caveat—needful due to the current state of the arts. While critics with a proclivity for the sensation of novelty—frequently concealed behind the ostensibly innocent cliché ‘but what is your thesis’ (not to mention Romanticist ideas of ‘originality’)—are naturally welcome, they are unlikely to feel right at home in what is nothing more than a bare commentary.18 Then again, emotional states are not the province (let alone the preserve) of scholarship. Nor is it possible to perform the latter without tentatively taking other perspectives—from a safe and sober distance.19 || by students, heads, members of said School, later scholars’. Cf. Sharples for an affine use (17). While sufficient for the task at hand, such will hardly satisfy the gusto of philosophers sensu stricto, ever eager to affix their piebald construals of ‘original intents’ to ‘definite individuals’. Unless (certain of) Aristotle’s authorized works turn up—from some cave, crypt, (convent) archive, vat or can—a pragmatic approach will not simply be the plausible, but the only one. 17 Cf. “the Aristotelian treatises […] are for the most part compilations of earlier notes or smaller treatises, written perhaps at different times, and edited in some cases, if not in all, by other hands” (Tredennick “Intro. [Met.]” xxv); “the treatises [of ‘the Organon’], in the form in which they have come down to us, seem to consist of rough notes, which were evidently subjected to a certain amount of revision” (Forster 266). See Ross (5–6; 16–17). For the Rhet. (Die antike Rhetorik 32) and Poetics, cf. Fuhrmann: “die kahle Diktion begnügt sich mit dem Nötigsten, skizziert, gibt Stichworte […] läßt es oft genug mit kaum noch verständlichen Andeutungen sein Bewenden haben. […] manches wirkt, als habe der Autor Notizen eines Zettelkastens aneinandergereiht. […] Der Autor trägt keine Schuld an dem […] Gewande, in dem sich seine Schrift dem Leser präsentiert. Er hat sie […] gar nicht veröffentlicht […]. Alle übrigen Schriften [apart from ‘exoteric lógoi’ now lost] […] dienten lediglich dem inneren Gebrauch der Schule, […] als Gedächtnisstütze für weitere Forschungen und […] den Lehrvortrag; man bezeichnet sie […] als akroamatische, […] esoterische Schriften” (“Einführung” 7). Cf. Küpper (“Tragödiensatz” 4, 4n.; 6n.), who stresses: “Fragen […] müssen ansetzen an dem Text, so wie er auf uns gekommen ist und in dieser und eben keiner anderen Form die bekannte Wirkungsgeschichte gezeitigt hat” (“Horizont” 257n.). 18 As to the discursive implications, see Küpper: “Since the age of Romanticism, innovation and aesthetic novelty are the leading parameters when it comes to defining what art is” (“World Literature” 173; with context). For a recusatio of theticality in a comparable regard, cf. Vogt (17). Above all, see Blumenberg’s pertinent polemics (Phänomen. 185). 19 Cf. Küpper: “Aristoteles referiert mit nüchterner Distanz” (“Mimesis” 36; infinitized). Cicero’s general statement (“neque […] disputari sine reprehensione […] potest”), plus his particularized reply, will be authoritative for scholarly discussion: “An me […], nisi te audire vellem, censes haec dicturum fuisse” (De Fin. 30, I.viii.28). See subch. 8.4; more generally, ch. 12, herein.

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3.1 Exemplary Accidents Metaphysics V.xxx.1–4 (1025a) if there really were such a thing as luck [‘τύχη’], it would present a genuine problem[.] —Aristotle (Phys. 1–4. 143, 196a, II.iv)20 whether something can be called an accident sometimes depends on how it is described. —Sorabji (Necessity 4)

A brief segment in the prima philosophia—consisting of two vivid examples in the main—might serve as an epagogic onset to the reflections at hand. For—besides being inductive—Aristotle’s cases are also rather iconic; especially the ensuing: if […][,] while digging a hole for a plant[,] one found a treasure[,] [t]hen the finding [‘τὸ εὑρεῖν’] […] is an accident [‘συμβεβηκὸς’] to the man who is digging […]; for the one thing is not a necessary consequence or sequel of the other, nor does one usually find treasure while planting. (Met. 1–9. 288–289, 1025a, V.xx.1)21

Mutatis mutandis, the rhetorical question par excellence seems pertinent, here. For ‘cui bono’ involves the more universal query: ‘from whose perspective’.22 The philosopher intimates that one man’s pleasure is another’s grief.23 Their situations differ in that the one interring the treasure is trying to conceal it—

|| 20 (Cf. Phys. 1–4. 145, 196a, II.iv; as discussed below). While expedient for the present endeavor, Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s above trans. of the consequence is rather free: “ἄτοπον ἂν φανείν ὡς ἀληθῶς” (Phys. 1–4. 142, 196a, II.iv). Zekl’s German seems closer to the source, here: “dann erschiene das doch wahrhaftig als unbegreiflich” (“Physik” 35, 196a, II.4). Even so, his (staunch) rendition of ‘týche’ as ‘Schicksal(sfügung)’ (see “Physik” 34–41) is (highly) problematic, since said noun is (almost inevitably) associated with (some notion of) ‘fatum’. In general, “[t]he concept of fate does not play any appreciable part in Aristotle’s writings” (Sharples 22–23; cf. 23n.). 21 (With NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.5). See Sorabji (Necessity 17); Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 37); Küpper (“Ordnung” 181n.; 213, 213n.); Marquard (“Apologie” 119); Vogt (110–112; 139). An alternative accent is offered in the Stagirite’s téchne: “they did not see [‘μὴ εἶδον’] the treasure, while he found it” (Rhet. 58–59, 1362a, I.v.17). Cf. Freese’s gloss (Rhet. 108n.–109n.). 22 See Lausberg (Handbuch 93, §158–159); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 124n.; 190). 23 Sorabji’s qualification may evince logic’s general problem with the (rhetorical) phenomenon of implications: “For Aristotle[,] chance or luck (tukhê) is a coincidental conjunction of circumstances. Boethius illustrates it by my finding treasure (for clarity, one could say: there being treasure present) when I am digging a trench for a vine” (“backgrounds” 21). There are several versions in the latter: “if someone digging up the ground or deepening a trench in order to cultivate a field should find a treasure, then that treasure has been found by chance – not, indeed, without some action, for the ground was dug when the treasure was found; but it was not the agent’s intention that he should find a treasure” (Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 151, §194.9– 13); “if someone digging a trench in order to plant a vine should find a treasure, the digging of

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precisely on account of his (her, their) anticipating, wishing to prevent, its being found. To one party, discovery is a potential risk indeed, motivating the activity to begin with. To the other, it is—probably—a (wholly) unforeseen occurrence; which will then seem possible in hindsight (actuality preceding potentiality).24 The basic grid of Aristotle’s example could be used as a thesis for a forensic declamation, deliberative speech—plus countless accompanying modifications.25 Conceivably, one side—defending the hider—would ask whether the ostensive coincidence was such indeed: the burial could have been witnessed in passing, actually making said planting the pretext of a seeker. The other party might wish to inquire as to the qualis sit of the hoard’s undertaker: mayhap, he was a robber, pirate; after all, who has the need or desire to hide riches in the first place.26 While not implausible per se, both specifications are (more or less) incidental to the case. Yet the former will be relevant to the Stagirite’s setup. For an apparent happenstance may well turn out to have—or be twisted into having—been no accident at all; whence the (forensic) focus would be on the first status (an sit).27 Else, a (general, philosophical) definition of what constitutes a chance event (quid sit)—as well as the potential qualifications it might receive (quale sit)—will

|| the trench did indeed arise from free choice[;] […] chance alone contributed the finding of the treasure – a chance which nevertheless has the cause that the will contributed. For if he had not dug the trench, the treasure would not have been found” (“On Interpret. 9” 170, §224.4–9, as to 18b26). Cf. Kretzmann (“Nos Ipsi” 35–36); plus his (paronomastic) variation: “I assume that even Boethius would have accepted it as a case of chance if the vine-planting farmer had struck a vein of gold rather than a treasure someone else had deliberately buried” (“Nos Ipsi” 49n.–50n.). With qualifications, Boethius’ account: “casus vocatur, ut si quis colendi agri causa fodiens humum defossi auri pondus inveniat. […] Nam nisi cultor agri humum foderet, nisi eo loci pecuniam suam depositor obruisset, aurum non esset inventum. […] Neque enim vel qui aurum obruit vel qui agrum exercuit ut ea pecunia reperiretur intendit; sed uti dixi, quo ille obruit hunc fodisse convenit atque concurrit” (“Phil. Consolat.” 386–388, V.i.40–42, 45–47, 50–53). 24 On the latter (in general), see Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 454–457, 1049b–1050a, IX.viii.1–5 and 8; 464–465, 1051a, IX.viii.20); von Fritz, in an affine respect (“Das ἄπειρον” 684–685). Alexander of Aphrodisias logs: “they say that someone has found a treasure from luck, if, when digging for the sake of something else and not for that of finding treasure, he chances on a treasure. For the man who dug for this reason [sc. that of finding treasure] did not [find the treasure] from luck; there happened to him that for the sake of which he dug” (49, 172.25–28, VIII; both brackets, as well as their content, are Sharples’). It would seem that this commonsensical statement must be modified: humans could very precisely be treasure hunting all their lives, and never find—except by chance. Lifeworldly applications being evident, they may fall into a politic praeteritio. 25 Cf. spec. subchs. 4.2 and 4.3; more generally, also ch. 8, herein. 26 Striker causalizes (e.g.): “weil ihn [sc. den ‘Schatz’] ein anderer dort vor Jahren vergraben hat, um ihn vor plündernden Soldaten zu verbergen” (146). 27 For further variations on this theme, see subch. 6.5; plus the onsets of chs. 7 and 8, herein.

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be at the forefront of the debate. Rhetorically, the latter would hold sway—it being a different ‘accident’, depending on the angle. Quite naturally, Aristotle’s focus is on the former. His provisional answer hinges on the terms “necessary”, “usually”—providing yardsticks for assessing fortune ex negativo.28 By presenting a thwarted intention, the philosopher’s second example ad locum renders chance’s dependency on a particular viewpoint more explicit yet: It was by accident that X went to Aegina[—]if he arrived there, not because he intended to go there[,] but because he was carried out of his course by a storm, or captured by pirates. The accident [‘τὸ συμβεβηκός’] has happened or exists, but in virtue not of itself but of something else [‘ἀλλ’ οὐχ ᾕ αὐτὸ ἀλλ’ ᾕ ἕτερον’]; for […] the storm […] was the cause of his coming to a place for which he was not sailing[.] (Met. 1–9. 290–291, 1025a, V.xxx.3–4)29

Whereas the planter may still tend to his task of cultivating the flora after finding a fortune in the excavated ground, the storm-tossed, shipwrecked, or abducted unfortunate has not reached his projected aim (at least not at the envisaged time). The relative probabilities also differ considerably. To say nothing of people who do not dig holes regularly, even a farmer will rarely (if ever) discover hidden treasures.30 Yet the seafaring cannot but expect hazards; or perhaps reckon with the worst—since the weather and ocean are quasi instantiations of contingency, which everyone knows by experience (notably in a maritime climate).31 || 28 Cf. “a chance occurrence does not happen either necessarily or usually” (“Top.” 357, 112b, II.vi); “if by chance, not of necessity” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 51, at 18b9, §9). See subch. 3.7, herein. The formula “if not of necessity, contingently” (Alexander of Aphrodisias 52, §175.27, IX) tends to be encountered in the commentators also. Ackrill logs: “The phrase translated ‘as chance has it’ has been variously rendered by ‘random(ly)’, ‘as the case may be’, ‘whichever happens’, ‘fortuitous(ly)’, ‘indeterminate(ly)’. Aristotle sometimes speaks as though ‘of necessity’ and ‘not by chance’ are equivalent” (136). See Talanga: “Der Geltungsbereich von ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν wird durch τὸ μὴ ἀεὶ ὄν und τὸ μὴ ἀεὶ μὴ ὄν definiert. Dieser Bereich der kontingenten Sachverhalte wird auch als μὴ ἀεὶ ἐνεργοῦν oder als δυνάμενον εἶναι καὶ μὴ εἶναι, als μέσον τοῦ ἀεὶ ὄντος καὶ τοῦ ἀεὶ μὴ ὄντος bezeichnet. Die Prädikate aus diesem Bereich kann man, im Unterschied zu den notwendigen und den unmöglichen, als zufällig bezeichnen” (79–80; underscores removed). Vogt generally stresses “die Minimalbedingung des nec necessarium” (23; cf. 53, 59, 61–65, 67, 111–118, 122–123, 137, 145, 147, 151, 191, 195, 279–281, 337): “der Zufallsbegriff bezieht sich doch wohl stets auf ein wie auch immer zu verstehendes nec necessarium” (64). See Inciarte (106). 29 Cf. Vogt (113–114). The choice of location need not be innocent. Aristotle may be performing a purgatio (cf. Lausberg Handbuch 103–104, §187; 104, §189; Elemente 22, §31.4.b); or another indirect jab at his teacher’s notorious modesty (sc. vanity). See Plato (“Phaedo” 206–207, 59B– C), with D. Laertius (Lives I. 308–309, III.36; plus 310–311, III.37; 194–195, II.65, 194n.–195n.). 30 This remark would require contextualization; above all: one man’s treasure (or heaven) might not be another’s; typically on the contrary. See Mt 6:19–20; plus the onset of ch. 13, herein. 31 Mutatis mutandis, for such as are familiar with a mountainous climate. Said exemplum could

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Besides the possibility of human interference (pirates), this second sample submits a natural cause for what will likely seem an unfortunate coincidence to the sailor or passenger concerned.32 When advancing epagogically, chance appears to be a matter of perspective. Nor would this exclude a subsequent deduction.33 Aquinas records: the meeting of two servants at a certain place may be accidental and fortuitous with respect to them, since neither knew the other would be there[;] but per se intended by their master who sent each of them to encounter the other in a certain place. […] Accordingly, some have maintained that everything […] effected in this world—even the things that seem fortuitous and casual—is reduced to the order of divine providence[.] (116, XIV.15–16, as to 19a12)34

|| be rewritten for a crossing of the Alps (say): the resp. contingencies being natural (whiteouts); or human (highwaymen, quite literally). On the general processes implied, cf. the onset of ch. 4. 32 Naught would prevent those involved from presuming interferences of other, higher powers. A philosopher, theologian may feel inclined to deem a seeming accident expedient, Providential. Zeno the Stoic: “‘I made a prosperous voyage when I suffered shipwreck [‘νῦν εὐπλόηκα, ὅτε νεναυάγηκα’]’” (in: D. Laertius Lives II. 114–115, VII.4; with Blumenberg Schiffbruch 14; Sorge 45– 46). Hardly will it be by chance that a variant has: “‘It is well done of thee, Fortune, thus to drive me to philosophy [‘εὖ γε ποιεῖ ἡ τύχη προσελαύνουσα ἡμᾶς φιλοσοφίᾳ’]’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 114–115, VII.5). Not to mention that shipwrecked prophet manqué, who—altogether incidentally, as a matter of course—may well have tried to get precisely to where another notorious turncoat came from (see Jonah 1, spec. v.3–4, v.10, v.14–17; with Acts 27, spec. v.10, v.23–25; and, above all, 2Cor 11:25, 11:31). Cf. Normore (“Divine” 18–19); Blumenberg (Sorge 8). Chance might begin to look like Providence. See the Aquinate’s case cited above; plus Küpper (“Magie” 208); Sorabji on Boethius (“backgrounds” 21); Rohde (35n.); and the onset of ch. 13, herein. 33 Cf. the Aquinate’s line of reasoning, preceding the case ensuing above: “what is accidental is not one […] [but] can be taken as one by the intellect. […] in accordance with this[,] it is possible to reduce what in itself happens accidentally and fortuitously to a preordaining intellect” (116, XIV.14–15, as to 19a12). Deduction cannot but be a posteriori. See subch. 5.2.1, herein. 34 Aquinas redescribes otherwiseness qua delegation: “He ordains causes acting contingently (i.e., able to fail) for the effects that He wills to be contingent” (118, XIV.22, after 19a12; cf. 247, III.i.74.4). The (logical) inevitability of total determinism thereby entailed—“it would look as though everything takes place of necessity” (117, XIV.17, after 19a12)—is parried by what appears to be a variant of Isa 55:8. “These objections arise from judging of the cognition of the divine intellect and the operation of the divine will in the way in which these are in us, when in fact they are very dissimilar”; for His “cognitive power […] is totally outside of the order of time” (117, XIV.18–19). “God knows all things that take place in time most certainly and infallibly, and yet the things that happen in time neither are nor take place of necessity, but contingently” (118, XIV.21); “the divine will […] transcends the order of necessity and contingency” (118–119, XIV.22). See Wippel (213); Sharples on “Proclus’ […] immensely influential” notion (28–29; plus 28n.). Cf. Boethius: “omne quod scitur non ex sua sed ex conprehendentium natura cognoscitur” (“Phil. Consolat.” 422, V.vi.2–3.prose; with variants at 410, V.iv.75–77.prose; 426, V.vi.59– 61.prose; plus 410n.). See Fuhrmann (Spätantike 155). For the Aquinate’s endorsement, cf.

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The philosopher has no use—let alone need—for such totalizing.35 His strategy for coping with chance is otherwise; and more nuanced (as is his habit). From various angles, Aristotle tackles—attempts to “domesticate” (Küpper “Ordnung” 217; trans. dsm; likewise Kablitz “Selbstinszenierung” 551n.)—the elusive phenomenon that is týche.36 Among other things, a more systematic approach is tendered in the Stagirite’s ‘Lectures on Nature’, which might be described as “the study […] of informed matter or of inmattered form” (Ross 71).

3.2 On Nature and Chance Physics II.iv (195b–196b) Kontingenz […] [ist] Bewußtsein des Auch-anders-sein-Könnens, welches das Auch-nicht-sein-Können als seinen bloßen Extremfall einschließt. —Blumenberg (Phänomen. 135)37

In the orderly ecosystem of Aristotle’s Physics, a methodical starting point is provided by his theory of causality.38 Proceeding grammatico-linguistically, the Stagirite inquires “in how many senses ‘because’ may answer the question ‘why’” (Phys. 1–4. 129, 194b, II.iii).39 He tenders four aspects: (the presence of a given) matter, (susceptible of a certain) form; (the effecting, motivating, instigating) agency, (with a final, ultimate, premeditated) purpose.40

|| Wippel (217). In Sorabji’s formulation: “Knowledge takes its status from the knower” (“deterministic” 5); and “the gods have no position in time” (“deterministic” 6). 35 Cf. Sorabji: “Boethius […] transforms Aristotle in a number of ways. Most importantly, in his Consolation of Philosophy, […] he regards coincidences as not real coincidences after all, because they are brought about, like everything else, by Divine Providence. He thus gives […] believers in Divine Providence a way of still making room for a concept of Fortune, albeit a concept robbed of the Aristotelian idea of inexplicability” (“backgrounds” 21). For Novalis’ criticism of Goethe in a comparable regard, see Gamper (“Nicht-Wissen” 115–116, 115n.). 36 Cook claims: “it is hard to determine whether Aristotle held that contingency could anywhere be found in the universe” (“On Int.” 132n.). At the most fundamental level, this doubt seems justified; but not in the particulars. See the provisional summa of findings in subch. 3.5, herein. 37 “Contingency […] [is] consciousness of the potential for also being otherwise, which includes the potential for also not being [at all] as its mere extreme case” (trans. dsm). Cf. 3.5, 4.4, herein. 38 See Ross (71–75); “‘cause’ in Aristotle’s sense […] covers the internal constituents of a thing as well as its antecedents” (Cornford’s n. in: Wicksteed/Cornford xl). 39 Cf. Bröcker: “Wer […] bestimmt, was wesentlich ist? Nach den Worten des Aristoteles die Sprache. Er beruft sich auf die Weise, wie man zu reden pflegt. […] woher nimmt die Sprache den Maßstab? […] offenbar aus der Praxis” (264). Also Blumenberg (“sprachliche Wirklichkeit” 429). 40 (See Phys. 1–4. 128–131, 194b, II.iii; 126n.). Cf. this formulaic list: “the material, the form, the

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Since these factors are expressly interrelated (see Phys. 1–4. 130–131, 195a, II.iii), something contrary to the standard, probable order (respectively causality) could befall: material may well not attain to a specific shape; an initiative might miscarry.41 In that “Aristotle […] notes a certain goalfulness in Nature, analogous to our own purposeful actions” (Wicksteed/Cornford at Phys. 1–4. 7n.), a variety of interferences are conceivable (quasi eo ipso): potentials might fail to be effected; an attempted performance come to be thwarted, or issue elsewise.42

|| moving force, […] the goal or purpose [‘τὴν ὕλην, τὸ εἶδος, τὸ κινῆσαν, τὸ οὗ ἕνεκα’]” (Phys. 1–4. 164–165, 198a, II.vii). Chances sensu lato “are causes of the ‘efficient’ order, that set processes in motion [‘κινήσεως’]; for they are always attached to efficient causes either of the natural [‘φύσει’] or volitional [‘ἀπὸ διανοίας’] order, such attachments being indefinite [‘ἀόριστον’] in number” (Phys. 1–4. 162–163, 198a, II.vi; “zu dem Fall des ‘Woher-der-Ursprung-der-Veränderung’”, “Physik” 41). “Aristotle counts chance as an efficient, rather than a final, formal, or material cause” (Sorabji Necessity 23). The Stagirite qualifies his take as “a rough [‘σχεδὸν’] classification” (Phys. 1–4. 130–131, 195a, II.iii.). Ross refers to said section as “the locus classicus for the four causes” (51). See the alternative or ‘(ana)logical’ version (starting with the formal one): “the essence [‘τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι’], the necessitating conditions [‘τὸ τίνων ὄντων ἀναγκη τοῦτ’ εἶναι’], the efficient cause which started the process [‘ἡ τί πρῶτον ἐκίνησε’], and the final cause [‘τὸ τίνος ἕνεκα’]” (“Post. An.” 208–209, 94a, II.xi; with 208n.–210n.). By distinguishing factors that (may) enter into, or determine, a given phainómenon, these four causes—“material […] formal […] efficient […] final” aítia (Phys. 1–4. 126n.)—are tentative approaches to describing it rationally. Cf. this exemplary application: “whenever we inquire what the cause is, since there are causes in several senses, we must state all the possible causes. E.g., what is the material [‘ὕλη’] cause of a man? The menses. […] the moving [‘κινοῦν’] cause? The semen. […] the formal cause [‘τὸ εἶδος’]? The essence [‘τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι’]. […] the final cause [‘οὗ ἕνεκα’]? The end [‘τὸ τέλος’, sc. ‘aim’, ‘goal’]. (But perhaps both the latter are the same [sc. in this instance]). We must […] state the most proximate causes” (Met. 1–9. 416–417, 1044a–b, VIII.v.4–5; cf. “Met. 10–14” 137, 1071a, XII.v.3– 4). See Tredennick’s gloss as to “the correlativity of the final and efficient causes”, “the interdependence of efficient and final causes” (“Post. An.” 215n.). The final and formal are also linked: “cause, in the sense of […] ‘end in view [‘τὸ οὗ ἕνεκεν’]’, is […] shape [‘ἡ μορφὴ’] and form [‘τὸ εἶδος’]” (“Coming-to-Be” 308–309, 335b, II.9). Generally, see Alexander of Aphrodisias (43– 45, §166.15–168.24, II–IV; with Sharples 33); and Bröcker (250–266; spec. 251–252). The above are but the (bare) outlines of Aristotle’s theory of causation, insofar as it might seem relevant to the question of contingency (being his point of departure in the Physics and Metaphysics also). A comprehensive treatment being impossible herein, the above will be taken as tentative. 41 (Cf. Phys. 1–4. 148–149, 196b, II.v). The nexus of “the efficient and final causes” tends to be “direct, and the result normally follows the expectation. But sometimes we aim at one thing and ‘by accident’ hit another. […] the action is directed towards one purpose, but accomplishes another. […] this we attribute to Chance or Fortune” (Phys. 1–4. 138n.–139n.); the last verb is key. 42 (See Phys. 1–4. 166–169, 198b, II.vii–viii; 172–173, 199a, II.viii; also 105n.). Usually, “man begets man”; though it is not impossible that “something happens contrary to nature [‘παρὰ φύσιν’]” (Met. 1–9. 348–349, 1033b, VII.viii.8). In a sense, the qualification ‘parà phýsin’ is correlated with chance (see Rhet. 110–111, 1369b, I.x.13). If the form is not attained, the reason is

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On occasion, such obstructions of the expected or desired course—whether in nature or planning—tend to be put down to týche (fors, acaso, hasard, Zufall): especially if (sufficiently) out of the ordinary; or not (immediately) intelligible. Elsewhere—though not incidentally—Aristotle notes that events as “happen contrary to nature [‘παρὰ φύσιν’]” may generally show a tendency of being put down to “chance” (“δόξειε δ’ ἂν καὶ ἡ τύχη αἰτία εἶναι τῶν τοιούτων”, Rhet. 110– 111, 1369b, I.x.13). In a sense, speaking of an accident—a coincidence, any affine term—has the function of ascribing, or imputing, a ground to something that does not appear to have one (along the general lines specified).43 Apart from the four ‘causes’—material, formal, efficient, and final—[…] [p]opular thought […] recognizes the agency of Luck or Chance; and the inveterate belief that events just ‘happen’ by the blind working of forces pushing from behind, without any intelligent direction, has been countenanced or tacitly assumed by men of science. (Cornford’s note at Phys. 1–4. 105n.)44

Thanks to his epagogic modus, Aristotle has a reliable tendency to take seriously the (conventional, contemporaneous) views—performed by way of speech acts, sedimented in writing—as may be ‘floating in the cultural networks’ at hand.45 “Almost all philosophers and ordinary people believe that some things come to be fortuitously and from luck” (Alexander of Aphrodisias 48, §172.6–7, VII).

|| not the eidos, but the fact that material is relatively contingent (see subch. 3.5, herein)—a possibility (here) actualized by the efficient cause(s) resp. involved (“as when a horse sires a mule”, Met. 1–9. 349, 1033b, VII.viii.8; cf. 352–353, 1034b, VII.ix.5). 43 At times, this noetic and articulated act may take the form of a provision or imposition: a potential void (unbearable to a rationalistic stance) must be filled or replenished. 44 Cf. “Besides the four causes […], the agency of Chance or Luck has been recognized in popular and philosophic thought, and events are spoken of as occurring spontaneously ‘of themselves’ (ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου)” (Cornford at Phys. 1–4. 140n.); the accent falls on “recognized”, “spoken of as”. Generally, see Ross (75–78; 80–81), albeit decidedly cum grano salis; his précis of the segment (at 77) is highly problematic; and not unlikely to have done critical damage. 45 For Aristotle’s method, see Ross (38–41); and ch. 5 (spec. 5.2.1), herein. As to “wie der Gang der Griechischen Kultur die Arbeit des Aristoteles vorbereitet und herbeigeführt hatte”, Schopenhauer memorably logs: the Stagirite “sammelte, ordnete, berichtigte das Vorgefundene und brachte es zu einer ungleich höhern Vollkommenheit” (WWV I. 87, I.9; his context being logic). Cf. Sorabji (Necessity 23); and Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s gloss: “A FAVOURITE method of Aristotle’s […] is to begin by surveying the opinions of previous thinkers […], the current opinions and usages of speech” (Phys. 1–4. 3n.). On the conception of “culture as a (virtual) network”, see Küpper (“Hypotheses” 1; 4; passim, spec. 6–9; with Cultural Net passim; “Rhetoric” passim; V; 2; Mayfield “Proceedings” 220–222; “Interplay” 3–5; 28; 36). For applications, cf. spec. ch. 7, herein. As to ‘taking up and tying in with’, see Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim; on Aristotle, spec. 233–236, 240, 240n.–242n., 243–245, with n., 247–248, 253n.).

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The decisive factor will be that ‘chance’ is something spoken of, referred to, asserted: “We often allege fortune, or luck, and accident[,] as causes [‘Λέγεται δὲ καὶ ἡ τύχη καὶ τὸ αὐτόματον τῶν αἰτίων’]” (Phys. 1–4. 140–141, 195b, II.iv).46 Discursively, this seems to be a diachronic, globally relevant fact. Hence the burden of proof would appear to rest with such as wish to disclaim it: there remains the principle that people say such things [‘ὅτι οὕτω φασίν’], for example in religion [‘οἷον τὰ περὶ θεῶν’][;] perhaps it is neither ideal nor true to say such things, but maybe [‘ἔτυχεν’] it is as Xenophanes thought; no matter, people do say them [‘ἀλλ’ οὖν φασι’]. (“Poetics” 128–129, 1460b, §25; with 129n.)47

Considerations of prudence underwrite the philosopher’s choices in all matters: “πρὸς ἅ φασιν τἄλογα” (“Poetics” 134, 1461b, §25).48 As is his custom, Aristotle explores that significative ‘légetai’ further.49 Whether prevalent or otherwise, given views are to be explored in a heuristic || 46 See Kennedy: “In Greece, as elsewhere[,] there was a strong popular belief in Tykhē […] as a supernatural force that might possibly be appeased and could be worshipped as a goddess” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 61n.); the context cum grano salis. Generally, cf. Vogt (22; 89–108); Freese’s n. on the messenger god: “κοινὸς Ἑρμῆς is a proverbial expression meaning ‘halves!’ When anyone had a stroke of luck, such as finding a purse full of money in the street, anyone with him expected to go halves. Hermes was the god of luck, and such a find was called ἑρμαῖον” (Rhet. 326n.; by nominal indirection, Aristotle alludes thereto at 326–327, 1401a, II.xxiv.2; see Waldenfels 82). 47 Cf. Diels/Kranz (Vorsokratiker I. 132–133, 21B11–16; spec. 137, 21B34, for the ensuing; whose climax Diels gives as: “Schein(meinen) haftet an allem”, 137). See Sextus Empiricus, citing Xenophanes: “Yet, with respect to the gods and what I declare about all things / No man has seen what is clear nor ever will any man know it. / Nay, for e’en should he chance [‘τύχοι’] to affirm what is really existent, / He himself knoweth it not; for all is swayed by opining [‘δόκος δ’ ἐπὶ πᾶσι τέτυκται’]” (adv. math. VII–VIII. 56–57, I.110, being VII.110; Plutarch cites the first two lines only: “How to Study Poetry” 90–91, 17E–F, §2; with 90n.). Sextus accentuates the climactic dictum by repeating it. The next paragraph refers thereto as “opinionative reason [‘δοξαστοῦ λόγου’]”, resp. “ἀσθενεῖς […] ὑπολήψεις”—the value judgment being Parmenidean (adv. math. VII–VIII. 56–57, I.111, i.e. VII.111). Cf. Marcus Aurelius: “Ὅτι πάντα ὑπόληψις” (330, XII.22; with 38, II.15; 326, XII.8; and 70, IV.3). See Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 239, 239n.; 240n.; 244n.–247n.). 48 Plus context: “Refer irrationalities to what people say [‘πρὸς ἅ φασιν τἄλογα’]; and there is also the defence that they are sometimes not irrational [‘οὐκ ἄλογόν’], since it is probable that improbable things occur [‘εἰκὸς γὰρ καὶ παρὰ τὸ εἰκὸς γίνεσθαι’]” (“Poetics” 134–135, 1461b, §25). The latter being a sententia on Agathon’s part: “it is probable that many things should infringe probability [‘εἰκὸς (…) γίνεσθαι πολλὰ καὶ παρὰ τὸ εἰκὸς’]” (“Poetics” 94–95, 1456a, §19; cf. Rhet. 316–317, 1400a, II.xxiii.22). As to proceeding inductively from linguistic conventions to a general concept, see this distinctly Aristotelian instance: one may attain to the kathólou “of Prudence by considering who are the persons whom we call [‘λέγομεν’] prudent” (NE 336–337, 1140a, VI.v.1). 49 On its import, implications, see J. Ritter (Metaphysik 53n.; with 53–54, 54n.). He refers to the onsets of the subsegments in book Δ (Met. 1–9. 208–291, 1012b–1025a, V.i.1–V.xxx.4). Generally,

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manner: “ALL teaching and learning that involves the use of reason [‘διανοητικὴ’] proceeds from pre-existent knowledge” (“Post. An.” 24–25, 71a, I.i).50 In the present context, he perceives three basic propensities: to be positing utter fate, sheer chance, inscrutability.51 His own—characteristically balanced— take may seem to incline toward the latter, if modified by ‘relative’.52 As regards the first penchant mentioned, “some question” (or rather, deny) týche specifically, the autómaton generally—“declaring [‘φασίν’] that nothing happens casually, but that everything we speak of [‘λέγομεν’] in that way has really a definite cause [‘αἴτιον ὡρισμένον’]” (Phys. 1–4. 140–143, 196a, II.iv). Hence “when we allege [‘λεγομένων’] chance as the cause, there is always [‘ἀεί’] some other cause to be found, and it is never really chance [‘οὐ τύχην’]” (Phys. 1– 4. 142–143, 196a, II.iv; see 152–153, 197a, II.v). When talk is thereof, the stress falls on terms signaling an ascription: ‘phasín’, ‘légomen’, ‘legoménon’, et caetera. As to content, the position’s rigorism (“always”, “never”) produces problems.53 || cf. Ross (13). This is also significative for the study at hand, in that—hardly incidentally—the last entry of said book reads “Συμβεβηκὸς λέγεται” (Met. 1–9. 288, 1025a, V.xxx.1). See below. 50 Cf. Ross (42). Bubner observes “daß Erkenntnisgewinn eigentlich Erkenntniserweiterung darstellt, denn kein Wissen entsteht aus nichts” (Antike Themen 119). He adds “daß aller Erkenntnisgewinn unter einer von ihm nie einzuholenden Vorgabe von Wissen steht. Die[se] […] ist einerseits in der Sprache als lebendigem Verständigungsmedium […] niedergelegt und wird im Gebrauch […] ständig aktiviert, umgeschlagen und ergänzt. Andererseits zeigt sich die Vorgabe von Wissen in der Traditionsbestimmtheit jeder historischen Situation, in die stets mehr eingeht, als was in ihr je bewußt erkannt wird” (Dialektik 92–93; with 92n.–93n. as to Aristotle). 51 In terms of a basic drift, noetic structure (transtemporally), the first would align with what would later become the Stoic(izing) stances (see Aquinas 114, XIV.10, after 19a12); the second with the Epicurean view (based on the Atomistic one known to Aristotle); and the third with the theologico-Skeptical take (represented, in Medieval and Early Modern times, by Nominalism). Generally, see Sorabji (Necessity 18–19). Sharples stresses: “It is with Epicurus and the Stoics that clearly indeterministic and deterministic positions are first formulated” (7; cf. 8–10). 52 A characteristic of Aristotle is to proceed gradually, to assume degrees (e.g. of being). Hence his view of chance might be described as insinuating its being more or less inscrutable—as opposed to the phenomenon’s total inaccessibility by way of human minds. As Küpper indicates, the key conveyor of Aristotle to the Christian Middle Ages would seem to follow this basic tendency: “bei Boethius [‘ist’] ‘Kontingenz’ immer der Name, den die in der Zeitlichkeit Stehenden, die Menschen, jenen Manifestationen der kosmischen Ordnung geben, die sie als solche nicht zu erkennen vermögen” (“Ordnung” 213n.). Cf. Boethius (e.g. “Phil. Consolat.” 386– 387, V.i.18–24.prose, V.i.34–35.prose, especially “vulgus lateat”; 388–389, V.i.42–45.prose, spec. “creditur”, V.i.42.prose; and, notably, 404–405, V.iv.6–9.prose). 53 As with the one extreme (determinism), Aristotle gives the function of the other (atomism) qua inducing a more serious scrutiny (balanced, to his mind): “if this really were so”—that the present cosmic order arose fortuitously—“that very fact ought to give us pause [‘ἐπιστάσεως’] and convince us that the matter needs investigation [‘λεχθῆναί τι περὶ αὐτοῦ’, ‘darüber

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As per Aristotle, prior, contemporaneous ‘determinists’ tend to spirit away— or tacitly ignore—týche, respectively the autómaton, while still employing such, as (meaning, whenever) expedient.54 Even so, the fortuitous undoubtedly is—and remains—a linguistic phenomenon, hence must be reckoned with (per se).55 Anything as happens to be spoken of does have a certain (noetic, communal) existence—in the virtuality, if not the materiality, of ‘cultural networks’.56 Aristotle’s study of contingency sensu lato is also an articulation thereof.57 Having examined the views and inconsistencies (see “ἄτοπον”, Phys. 1–4. 142, 196a, II.iv) of (total) determinism, Aristotle mentions the other extreme: || gesprochen zu haben’]” (Phys. 1–4. 144–145, 196a, II.iv; cf. “Physik” 36). The third option, beyond the aforesaid extremes—that chance be humanly unfathomable—is similarly answered: “So we must obviously investigate [‘σκεπτέον’] the whole matter” (Phys. 1–4. 147, 196b, II.iv). See below. 54 “while accepting this venerable argument for the elimination of chance from their thoughts, they […] invariably distinguish […] between things that do, and […] do not, depend upon chance […][;] the philosophers should have given some account of what are called chance happenings. […] whether [or not] they believed […] in chance, they were bound in reason to take some note of it; especially as, on occasion, they actually had recourse to it” (Phys. 1–4. 143, 196a, II.iv). 55 Cf. Aristotle’s resp. signals: “ὁ παλαιὸς λόγος”, “φασι” (Phys. 1–4. 142, 196a, II.iv); “φησιν”, “λέγει”, “φησιν”, “λέγοντες” (Phys. 1–4. 144, 196a, II.iv); “τὸ λεγόμενον”, “τὸ λέγειν” (Phys. 1– 4. 144, 196b, II.iv). Withal, the root of the term in question is present in several terms and variants of other—or (comparatively) everyday—uses; cf. e.g. “ἐπιτυγχάνοντας” (Met. 1–9. 4, 981a, I.i.7; with Rhet. 2, 1354a, I.i.2); “ἐπιτύχῃ” (Rhet. 286, 1395b, II.xxi.15, plus three additional variants in the same segment); “τυγχάνει” (“Poetics” 126, 1460b, §25; with “Top.” 324, 108a, I.xviii; Rhet. 334, 1402a, II.xxiv.10); “τυγχάνουσιν” (NE 340, 1141a, VI.vi.1; cf. Rhet. 40, 1359b, I.iv.5; 168, 1377b, II.i.3; 286, 1395b, II.xxi.15); “τυχόντα” (“Poetics” 60, 1451b, §9; with “Top.” 396, 118a, III.ii); “ἐντύχῃ” (“Post. An.” 240, 97b, II.xiii; cf. NE 438, 1153b, VII.xiii.2; Rhet. 30, 1358a, I.ii.21); inter multa alia. On ‘sentences being phainómena also’, see subchs. 5.2.1 and 5.2.3 herein. 56 “Aristotle examines language”—a “treasure-house and record-office” (Wicksteed/Cornford xlix); “a deposit and a reservoir of thought” (li). Once abstract concepts are ‘materialized’— become perceptible by various senses (particularly, while not only, the haptic, olfactory)—their public ‘plausibility’ tends to increase all but inevitably: e.g. statues of, and temples dedicated to, Fortuna (mayhap with incense, burnt offerings). A rhetorician will aim to exploit this (literally) common ground for the resp. expedient purposes. In general, experiential, observable, empirical data conduce to the effect of seeming eikós. As to the Latin context, cf. Ovid’s remarks on June 24 as the “festival of Fors Fortuna”, “the fickle goddess [‘dubiae (…) deae’]”: “The common folk [‘plebs’] worship this goddess because the founder of her temple is said to have been of their number [‘de plebe’] and to have risen to the crown from humble rank [‘ex humili’]” (Fasti 380–381, VI.773, VI.781–784; with context; see Cicero De Fin. 472n.). Frazer observes that, as per Roman reckoning, the “summer solstice” fell on that day (Fasti 380n.)—perhaps giving additional plausibility to placing Fortuna’s holiday on a turning point. In general, Harth stresses: “Der gewöhnliche Sprachgebrauch schließt den Zufall in mannigfacher Weise ein” (79). 57 Significantly, Aristotle’s “investigation” is an articulation of—a ‘speaking about’—chance also: “καὶ καλῶς ἔχει λεχθῆναί τι περὶ αὐτοῦ” (Phys. 1–4. 144–145, 196a, II.iv; with “Physik” 36).

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Some indeed attribute [‘αἰτιῶνται’, sc. ‘als Ursache’] our Heaven [‘τοὐρανοῦ’] and all the worlds [‘κόσμων πάντων’] to chance happenings [‘τὸ αὐτόματον’, sc. to things occurring ‘of themselves’, sans classifiable cause], saying that the vortex and shifting that disentangled the chaos and established the cosmic order [‘τάξιν’] came by chance. (Phys. 1–4. 144–145, 196a, II.iv; with 145n.; and “Physik” 36)58

In this way, an onset of sheer unaccountability is said to effect a state of general regularity, observable organization.59 This cannot but seem problematic, given Aristotle’s preconceptions about Nature; whereto a brief excursus will be apt.60 || 58 See Plato: “they say, all exist[s] by nature [‘φύσει’] and chance [‘τύχῃ’] […]. It is by chance all […] elements move […][;] chance [‘κατὰ τύχην’] combination[s] […] have brought into being the whole Heaven and all that is in the Heaven, […] all animals, […] plants […] seasons […] all this [occurred], as they assert, not owing to reason [‘οὐ διὰ νοῦν’], nor to any god or art [‘οὐδὲ διά τινα θεὸν οὐδὲ διὰ τέχνην’], but owing […] to nature and chance [‘φύσει καὶ τύχῃ’]” (Laws VII– XII. 312–313, 889B–C). Cf. the wording in utramque partem: “nature brings them [sc. all things] forth from some self-acting cause [‘ἀπὸ τινος αἰτίας αὐτομάτης’], without creative intelligence [‘ἄνευ διανοίας φυούσης’]. Or shall we say that they are created by reason [‘μετὰ λόγου’] and by divine knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμης θείας’] that comes from God?” (“Sophist” 446–447, 265C). 59 Aristotle counters that “animals and plants” (naturally, usually) have discernible “causes” (e.g. ‘like engenders like’); that a discrepancy with “the heaven and the divinest things” will hardly seem plausible (Phys. 1–4. 145, 196a, II.iv). This must appear even “ἀτοπώτερον”, since “it is exactly in the movements of the heavenly bodies that we never observe what we call casual or accidental variations” (Phys. 1–4. 144–147, 196b, II.iv). Then again, the reverse would seem more ‘probable’ (“εἰκός”, Phys. 1–4. 146, 196b, II.iv), as natural processes appear to be contingent (sensu lato)—occasionally, conceivably, admitting of being else; or of not occurring at all. Cf. the drift in a parallel context: “there is better reason for [‘μᾶλλον εἰκὸς’] holding that the Heaven was brought into being by some such cause—if we may assume that it came into being at all—and that through that cause it continues to be, than [‘μᾶλλον’] for holding the same about the mortal things it contains—the animals; at any rate, there is much clearer [‘πολὺ μᾶλλον’] evidence of definite ordering in the heavenly bodies than there is in us; for what is mortal bears the marks of change and chance [‘τὸ δ’ ἄλλοτ’ ἄλλως καὶ ὡς ἔτυχε περὶ τὰ θνητὰ μᾶλλον’]. Nevertheless, there are those who affirm that, while every living creature has been brought into being by Nature [‘φύσει’] and remains in being thereby, the heaven […] was constructed by mere chance [‘ἀπὸ τύχης’] and came to be spontaneously [‘(ἀπὸ) τοῦ αὐτομάτου’], although there is no evidence of chance or disorder [‘ἀταξίας’] in it” (“Parts of Animals” 72–73, 641b, I.i). 60 Of added pertinence in this subch. apropos ‘lectures on phýsis’. See Wicksteed/Cornford (xv). Cf. Ross: “The world, Aristotle is maintaining, is well-ordered” (79). Kablitz: “Die Vernunft […] ist bei Aristoteles eine Figur der Integration und setzt ein tiefes Vertrauen in eine basale, von keiner Störung zu zerstörende Ordnung des Vorfindlichen voraus” (“Selbstinszenierung” 557). The Stagirite’s basic suppositions conduce to a demotion, relegation, sidelining, of týche, spec. as a (somehow) valid cause: “it is better to be happy [‘εὐδαιμονεῖν’] as a result of one’s own exertions than by the gift of fortune [‘διὰ τύχην’] […][;] in the world of nature [‘τὰ κατὰ φύσιν’] things have a natural tendency to be ordered in the best possible way [‘κάλλιστα’], and the same is true of the products of art [‘τὰ κατὰ τέχνην’], and of causation of any kind [‘καὶ πᾶσαν αἰτίαν’],

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The Stagirite holds that ‘naught comes out of (absolute) Nothing’ (Phys. 1–4. 86–87, 191b, I.viii; see 6n., 83n.; 88–89).61 While naturally susceptible of surface changes qualifying it in various ways, ultimate or underlying Matter—as such— is eternal, enduring, simply ‘(t)here’ (Phys. 1–4. 94–95, 192a, I.ix; with 91n.).62 Likewise, time is always; has no onset, end; being movement (Phys. 5–8. 276– 277, 251b, VIII.i; 276n.), the latter is “imperishable” (Phys. 5–8. 279, 251b, VIII.i), “eternal” (Phys. 5–8. 281, 252a, VIII.i), as well.63 From this angle, Aristotle asserts:

|| and especially the highest [‘κατὰ τὴν ἀρίστην’]. Whereas the greatest and noblest [‘κάλλιστον’] of all things should be left to [‘ἐπιτρέψαι’] fortune [‘τύχῃ’] would be too [‘λίαν’] contrary to the fitness of things [‘πλημμελὲς’]” (NE 44–45, 1099b, I.ix.5–6; cf. 50–51, 1100b, I.x.7–9). 61 Cf. Ross (65–66). At a universal plane, the basic thought behind the Aristotelian concept of matter may well be this: “something of that which is coming to be must already exist” (Met. 1–9. 189, 1010a, IV.v.19; see 340–341, 1032b–1033a, VII.vii.9; and 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.1; 344–345, 1033a, VII.viii.1–2; 346–347, 1033b, VII.viii.4; 420–421, 1044b, VIII.v.1; 456–457, 1049b, IX.viii.5). Cf. “if matter were to come into existence or perish, it would have to come out of itself or perish into itself” (Phys. 1–4. 94n.–95n.). Withal, “nothing eternal is potential” (Met. 1–9. 461, 1050b, IX.viii.15); “nothing which is absolutely imperishable is absolutely potential (although there is no reason why it should not be potential in some particular respect; e.g. of quality or place); therefore all imperishable things are actual. Nor can anything which is of necessity be potential; and yet these things are primary, for if they did not exist, nothing would exist” (Met. 1–9. 463, 1050b, IX.viii.17); “some things exist of necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’], for example, the […] eternal [‘τὰ ἀΐδια’]” (“Coming-to-Be” 306–307, 335a, II.9; cf. 324–325, 338a, II.11; see Schopenhauer thereto, “Kritik” 593–594). From the above, it would follow that matter has a relative potentiality only. At a most fundamental level, the Creator of Judeo-Christian monotheism is incompatible with Aristotle’s stance. As is that New Testament Deity “making everything new” (Rev 21:5; NIV)—i.e. destroying the world as is. Cf. Blumenberg: “Die creatio ex nihilo bringt aus innerer sachlicher Konsequenz die Ausschaltung und Überwindung des griechischen Hylemorphismus” (Beiträge 59; plus 58, 80). Likewise Schaeffer: “The idea of an absolute creation is a Christian idea” (Art of the Modern Age 94; with 95, and context). See subch. 4.4, herein. 62 The case is thus one of relative contingency, in that (the ultimate, underlying) matter may be otherwise, though not inexistent: “not […] the world […] comes into being and perishes, but its dispositions only” (Heavens 101, 280a, I.x; with 126–127, 283b, I.xii; also: “Met. 10–14” 124–127, 1069b, XII.ii.1–2, XII.iii.1). Generally, cf. Wicksteed/Cornford (xv; xxiv); and Ross: “Matter is something relative” (71). “It is a thesis of Aristotelian cosmology that generation and corruption take place only on earth (or below the sphere of the moon)” (Kretzmann in: Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 190n.; cf. “Nos Ipsi” 26; 39). Cf. Ross’ felicitous formulation: “in the world of chance and change” (31). With the Stagirite, Sharples observes “the irregularity and variation of many aspects of the sublunary world, where the most that can be said of many things is that they happen for the most part but not always, and where there are many accidental connections” (4– 5; cf. 25, 25n.); “a central Aristotelian concept”: “the natural [i]s what occurs for the most part but not always” (23; see Alexander of Aphrodisias 46, §169.31–170.2, VI). Cf. subch. 3.5, herein. 63 “there never was nor will be a time [‘χρόνος’] when movement [‘κίνησις’] was not or will not be” (Phys. 5–8. 285, 252b, VIII.i; with 267n.; also 322–325, 256b, VIII.v; 332–333, 257b, VIII.v; “Met.

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The world in its entirety [‘ὁ πᾶς κόσμος’] is made up of the whole sum of available matter […]. This world [‘οὐρανός’] is one, solitary and complete. (Heavens 90–91, 279a, I.ix)64 it […] was not generated and cannot be destroyed […], but is unique and eternal, having no beginning or end of its whole life, containing infinite time and embracing it in itself. (Heavens 131, 283b, II.i)

Positing the aforesaid qualities (qua premises) leads to subsequent con- and exclusions. These are of particular relevance in the present respect: Nothing can be either indestructible or ungenerated by […] chance [‘ἀπὸ τοῦ αὐτομάτου’, sc. ‘by itself’] […][;] for chance [‘τὸ (…) αὐτόματόν’, sc. that which is simply ‘of itself’] and lucky events [‘τὸ ἀπὸ τύχης’] are the contrary of that which always or normally [‘παρὰ τὸ ἀεὶ καὶ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ’] is or comes to pass[;] whereas that which exists for an infinite time, whether absolutely or starting from a certain point, exists either always or normally. (Heavens 124–127, 283a–b, I.xii; on the taxonomic distinction, see 3.4, herein)

This may come to a petitio principii: ultimate matter being (deemed) eternal, it cannot be by chance—because the latter is the opposite of perpetuity. In addition to mirroring noetic principles or functions more generally, Nature itself is conceived of as specifically purposive—like the nous (to the Stagirite’s mind).65 || 10–14” 140–141, 1071b, XII.vi.1–2; “Coming-to-Be” 312–313, 336a, II.10). “Aristotle […] believes in the eternity of matter-in-motion” (Wicksteed/Cornford xxx; cf. xxxvi–xxxvii, lx–lxi). Generally, “everything which exists for ever is absolutely indestructible” (Heavens 115, 281b, I.xii); “everything existing of absolute necessity is eternal; and […] does not come into existence or perish” (NE 333, 1139b, VI.iii.2). See Blumenberg (Beiträge 49; 116). 64 The resp. terms seem to be used (almost) interchangeably. Cf. “ἡ δὲ τοῦ ὅλου σύστασίς ἐστι κόσμος καὶ οὐρανός” (Heavens 100, 280a, I.x). Regarding the above: “Aristotle’s universe” is “a bounded plenum” (Wicksteed/Cornford lxi); “as a whole”, it “is ungenerated and indestructible” (Guthrie “Intro.” xv; with Heavens 94n.; 110n.). 65 (See Phys. 1–4. 166–169, 198b, II.vii–viii; 172–173, 199a, II.viii). Spec. “There is purpose [‘ἔστιν (…) τὸ ἕνεκά του’] […] in what is, and in what happens, in Nature [‘ἐν τοῖς φύσει γινομένοις καὶ οὖσιν’]” (Phys. 1–4. 172–173, 199a, II.viii); “nature in one aspect acts with a purpose and in another from necessity” (“Post. An.” 217, 94b, II.xi). “Nature makes nothing which is purposeless or doomed to frustration [‘ἡ δὲ φύσις οὐδὲν ἀλόγως οὐδὲ μάτην ποιεῖ’]” (Heavens 200–201, 291b, II.xi); “whatever Nature makes she makes to serve some purpose [‘ἡ φύσις ἕνεκά του ποιεῖ πάντα’]” (“Parts of Animals” 72–73, 641b, I.i); “nature, as we declare, does nothing without purpose [‘οὐθὲν γάρ, ὡς φαμέν, μάτην ἡ φύσις ποιεῖ’]” (Pol. 10–11, 1253a, I.i.10). Cf. Alexander of Aphrodisias (55, §178.11–15; 57, §179.24–26, XI); Ross (78–79, 79n.); Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 264n.). Regularly, “Nature” serves as a cause, “reason”: “φύσει γὰρ ταῦτα” (“Parts of Animals” 74–75, 641b, I.i). With Ross (cf. e.g. 68), Cornford speaks of “the unconscious purposiveness of Nature” (Phys. 1–4. 152n.; also 154n.). The ‘telicality’ of phýsis sets the latter in opposition to týche’s ‘ápeira’—as implied in the ensuing: “Nature […] avoids what is infinite [‘ἡ δὲ φύσις φεύγει τὸ ἄπειρον’], because the infinite lacks completion and finality [‘τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἄπειρον ἀτελές’],

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The collocation “naturally in vain” (Blumenberg Realität 14; 48; trans. dsm) would amount to a contradictio in adiecto.66 Tentatively, Aristotle’s ground swell may thus seem rationalistic to an extent as might be taken to approach a quasi or relative determinism—in the specific sense of excluding contingency at the most fundamental level.67 Yet only there: nothing natural or accordant with nature is without order [‘μὴν οὐδέν (…) ἄτακτον τῶν φύσει καὶ κατὰ φύσιν’]; for nature is the universal determinant of order [‘ἡ γὰρ φύσις αἰτία πᾶσι τάξεως’]. […] what is natural is either absolute [‘ἁπλῶς’], not now thuswise and now otherwise [‘οὐχ ὁτὲ μὲν οὕτως ὁτὲ δὲ ἄλλως’][…][;] or, if not absolute, is determined by some intelligible principle [‘ἢ λόγον ἔχει τὸ μὴ ἁπλοῦν’]. (Phys. 5–8. 280–281, 252a, VIII.i)68

Hence the stance on chance taken by atomism is rejected outright. Not to mention later (Augustinian, Nominalist) notions of “radical”, “naked contingency” (Blumenberg Legitimität 181; Arbeit 681; trans. dsm)—not even a conceivability in

|| whereas this is what Nature always seeks [‘ἡ δὲ φύσις ἀεὶ ζητεῖ τέλος’]” (Gen. of Animals 6–7, 715b, I.i). See spec. subch. 3.6, herein. With general pertinence, Schopenhauer observes: “Es ist […] dem Menschen natürlich beim Disputiren sich […] hinter irgend einen allgemeinen topus zu retten. Loci sind auch die lex parsimoniae naturae; — auch: natura nihil facit frustra. […] alle Sprichwörter sind loci mit praktischer Tendenz” (“Eristische” 673n., Neben.Dial.B2[7a]). 66 “natürlich vergebens”. The Stagirite would hardly allow even Blumenberg’s figurative use. 67 Cf. Aristotle’s censure of the relative variant (in certain forms of Platonism): “They say that order arose from disorder [‘ἐξ ἀτακτον’]” (Heavens 99, 280a, I.x; with 99n.; Plato “Timaeus” 54– 55, 30A). Admitting such were to grant contingency at the most basic level; hence would fail to avert its typical potentiality for any given state: “If […] the world either has been or might have been other than it is [‘οὔτ’ εἰ ἄλλως εἶχέ ποτε οὔτ’ εἰ δυνατὸν ἄλλως ἔχειν’], it cannot be indestructible” (Heavens 98–99, 279b, I.x). Cf. Küpper: “Das Zufällige […] im engeren Sinne, das einen intentional gesetzten Handlungssinn durchkreuzt, ist eher logisch unvermeidliches BeiProdukt des Konzepts Handlung als Auswahl von Möglichkeiten. Seine Einordnung als ‘selten’ indiziert, daß das so verstandene Kontingente nicht als Problem bilanziert wird. Dies wiederum wird verständlich, wenn man einbezieht, daß das endechomenon keinen Stellenwert hat in der aristotelischen Kosmologie. Die Vorstellung einer völlig anderen als der gegebenen Welt oder einer Welt, in der es keine Verläßlichkeit gibt, ist diesem Denken fremd” (“Ordnung” 214). Ross asserts: “It is excessively hard to be sure whether Aristotle thinks in the long run that there is a sphere of real contingency in the world. He sometimes speaks as if necessity ruled in the celestial and contingency in the sublunary region. […] The contingency attaching to the heavenly bodies […] is only a capacity for movement, while terrestrial things have also the capability of changing in quality, of growing and diminishing, and of coming to be and passing away” (31; cf. 80–81, 164, 188–189, 201; partly with a grain of salt). See Bröcker (250); Inciarte (132–133). 68 In Aristotle, Sorabji sees a “distinction between absolute and relative necessity. […] The term he uses for absolute necessity is necessity haplōs. It could more accurately be rendered as […] without qualification, while relative necessity is […] qualified” (Necessity 21; cf. 8, 22–23).

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Aristotle’s worldview.69 Still, the infinite number of relative, conditional variants of chance or coincidence are expressly not excluded; on the contrary.70 Like utter determinism, the atomistic view is seen as a useful implausibility (“ἄτοπον”, “ἀτοπώτερον”, Phys. 1–4. 144, 196b, II.iv).71 Such induces—and, given the Stagirite’s standards of scholarly probity, renders requisite—a more equitable approach (as is the Peripatetic héxis). Aristotle takes chance seriously: meaning, qua—noetic, linguistic—phenomenon to be described poly-perspectivally.72 Before moving on to his own examination (Phys. 1–4. 146–163, 196b–198a, II.v–vi), the philosopher briefly mentions a third version of accounting for chance. Being decidedly less drastic than either determinism or atomism, it may seem more amenable to the approach on his part. There are those who hold that fortune [‘τύχη’] is a genuine cause [‘αἰτία’] of things, but one that has something divine and mysterious about it, that makes it inscrutable to the human intelligence [‘ἄδηλος δὲ ἀνθρωπίνῃ διανοίᾳ’]. (Phys. 1–4. 146–147, 196b, II.iv; see 152–153, 197a, II.v)

While this is not Aristotle’s take, its quasi Skepticism—a ‘nescitur’ being virtually implied—is compatible therewith to a considerably greater degree than are the two extremes portrayed.73 This may well be why he chooses not to elaborate on that more open (contingent, evenhanded, balanced, less partial) position—under this header, at this point.74 For his stance might not be all that far therefrom.75

|| 69 That Aristotle does not take absolute contingency to be a possibility might also be insinuated by his remark that “not everything can be healed by medicine, or even by chance” (Met. 1–9. 451, 1049a, IX.vii.1). A worldview ultimately deriving from a ‘Deity qua (sheer) contingency’ (see Küpper “Episteme” 117–118) cannot but be (fundamentally, if tacitly) at odds with the Stagirite’s rationalistic—and also rather commonsensical—assumption. Cf. subch. 4.4, herein. 70 This links contingency to quality (Phys. 1–4. 148–153, 196b–197a, II.v); see subch. 4.3, herein. 71 Cf. Oesterle: “he is concerned with the […] opinions that the whole universe was formed by chance (Democritus) and that even all the natural species are […] the work of chance mutations (Empedocles), […] [i.e.] that contingent causality lies at the root of all things” (12). 72 Vogt speaks of “Aristoteles’ grundsätzliche[r] philosophische[r] Rehabilitierung von tyche und automaton” (117; with 128, 136, 144–145). 73 The way this third stance is formulated leaves open the possibilities of a Divine contingency or Providence: humankind ascribes to the otherworldly what is beyond its reach and grasp (the Nominalist nescio, later). For the basic drift, cf. Küpper: “monotheism signifies to be stylizing contingency into a Divine figure” (“Episteme” 118; trans. dsm). It stands to reason that Aristotle’s is a philosophico-rationalistic (rather than an ultimately religio-tribalistic) version. Above all, the Stagirite’s deity is neither a Creator, nor personalized (qua supra-patriarch, fond father, say). 74 Referring to the abovecited context, Sorabji logs that “Aristotle is collecting earlier opinions, without yet fully showing his hand. This is his normal dialectical method” (Necessity 23). 75 His study of chance follows directly in the Physics (II.v–vi). Another indicator: he logs it as

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3.3 Naturally Fortunate Eudemian Ethics VIII.ii.1–24 (1246b–1248b) and Magna Moralia II.viii.1–12 (1206b–1207b) quando dezimos Philosopho sin nombrar el nombre proprio por excellencia entendemos de Aristotiles[.] —(C Comentada 55, 31r, I.91)

The philosopher does refer to the aforementioned view again in another treatise, an intercalation of which may thus seem appropriate here: people give it as a definition of fortune [‘ὁριζόμενοι τὴν τύχην’] that it is a cause incalculable to human reasoning [‘αἰτίαν ἄλογον ἀνθρωπίνῳ λογισμῷ’], implying that it is a real natural principle [‘ὡς οὔσης τινὸς φύσεως’]. This […] would be a matter for another inquiry [‘ἄλλο πρόβλημ(α)’]. (“Eudemian” 460–461, 1247b, VIII.ii.10)76

In a sense, said—temporarily deferred—task is attempted at the end of the segment (“Eudemian” 466–469, 1248a–b, VIII.ii.21–24). The present inquiry will likewise return thereto. Prior, Aristotle’s movement of thought might be traced.77 As stated in the above citation (located at about its center), the respective section opens with ‘what is said’: “we also speak of [‘φαμὲν’] the fortunate as faring well [‘τοὺς εὐτυχεῖς εὖ πράττειν’], which implies that good fortune also engenders welfare”; the question being whether this be so “by nature [‘φύσει’] or not” (“Eudemian” 454–457, 1247a, VIII.ii.1).78 || the last of three options—having begun with the (mutually exclusive) extremes of determinism and atomism. In a sense, the third provides a kind of isosthéneia of the foregoing; see above. 76 Cf. this partly parallel passage: “Being unable to find a fitting and appropriate term for Good Fortune, we often speak of [‘φαμὴν’] it as a Cause; but Cause is something quite alien to the content of the term we seek [‘ἡ δ’ αἰτία ἀλλότριον τοῦ ὀνόματος’]. Cause and its consequence are two different things [‘ἡ γὰρ αἰτία καὶ οὗ ἐστιν αἰτία ἄλλο ἐστιν’]; and the Good Fortune we speak of [‘λεγομένη’] as Cause is quite apart from any impulse which attains [‘ἐπιτυγχανούσης’] advantages. In this way we speak of the Cause of our escaping ill, or again of our receiving something good when we do not expect it. Such Good Fortune as this differs from the other [sc. natural, inborn, ‘eugenic’] kind, and appears to arise from the vicissitudes of circumstance [‘ἐκ τῶν πραγμάτων τῆς μεταπτώσεως γίνεσθαι’]; it is Good Fortune only incidentally [‘κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς εὐτυχία’]” (“Magna Mor.” 640–641, 1207b, II.viii.10–11; with 640n.). 77 Oesterle sees Aristotle’s characteristically epagogic method at work: “he begins by analyzing fortune, the extreme kind of contingency, which is well known because it occurs in human action, although his aim is to manifest chance in nature, more obscure to us, and recognizable only in familiar living things” (12). In procedural respects, see the onset of ch. 4; and 5.2.1, herein. 78 The pragmatic (if not ultimate) stimulus for this query will be an experience or observation (“ὡρῶμεν”): “many[,] though foolish[,] succeed in things in which luck is paramount, and some

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With his usual attentiveness to ‘common sense’—enabling, perpetuating a lifeworld, sedimented in speech, afloat in the networks of his day—Aristotle logs: people think […] that some men are successful by natural causes [‘φύσει’]; […] nature makes men of a certain quality [‘ἡ δὲ φύσις ποιούς τινας ποιεῖ’], and the fortunate and unfortunate are different even from birth[.] (“Eudemian” 456–457, 1247a, VIII.ii.3)79

As it stands, this attribution to Nature—perchance ‘biogenetics’, in modern parlance—marks a substitute and shorthand for not being able to give any (or a more precise) reason.80 From Aristotle’s point of view, the noetic mechanism in the background is an implied ex negativo: it is clear that they do not succeed by means of [practical] wisdom [‘οὐ φρονήσει’], because wisdom is not irrational [‘οὐ γὰρ ἄλογος ἡ φρόνησις’][,] but can give reason [‘λόγον’] why it acts as it does[;] whereas they could not say why they succeed—for that would be science [‘τέχνη’][.] (“Eudemian” 456–457, 1247a, VIII.ii.4)

Throughout the Stagirite’s œuvre, the fact that something is, or may be, qualified as ‘álogon’ tends to be a heuristic, provisional (if not sufficient) indicator that an ascription to ‘chance’ will seem plausible; hence is likely to occur.81 || even in things which involve skill” (“Eudemian” 456–457, 1247a, VIII.ii.2; see the comparable “ὡρῶμέν” at 460, 1247b, VIII.ii.10; and “ὡρῶμεν” at 464, 1248a, VIII.ii.17; also Phys. 1–4. 146, 196b, II.v); “they succeed in spite of being unwise [‘ἄφρονες’, sc. ‘imprudent’]” (“Eudemian” 456–457, 1247a, VIII.ii.5); “these men will succeed […] although […] foolish [‘ἄφρονες’] and irrational [‘ἄλογοι’] […] without the aid of reason [‘ἄνευ λόγου’]” (“Eudemian” 462–463, 1247b, VIII.ii.13; cf. 466, 1248a, VIII.ii.22; 468, 1248b, VIII.ii.24); they “succeeded, but their reasoning was foolish [‘ὁ δὲ λογισμὸς ἦν ἠλίθιος’]” (“Eudemian” 462–463, 1247b, VIII.ii.15); “we see some people being fortunate contrary to all the teachings of science [‘παρὰ πάσας τὰς ἐπιστήμας’] and correct calculation [‘καὶ τοὺς λογισμοὺς τοὺς ὀρθοὺς’]” (“Eudemian” 464–465, 1248a, VIII.ii.17). 79 This points to the rhetorical inquiry into—and exploitation of—the ‘quale sit’: the general premise or assumption being that the existence of natural ‘makes’ is typically assumed, in addition to the (hexically) acquired or (prudently) cultivated ones. Ever artful, their oratorical inventio, manipulation—even fabrication—has recourse to, avails itself of, this communal and noetic state of affairs: qualities are habitually reckoned with. See spec. subch. 4.3, herein. 80 Cf. “apart from these three [sc. ‘Nature, Intelligence, GOD’], […] there is nothing to which Fortune [‘τὴν τύχην’] can be ascribed [‘τάξειεν’]; to one of them, […] it must clearly belong. […] It remains […] to choose Nature [‘φύσις’] as that which is nearest akin to Good Fortune [‘εὐτυχίας’]” (“Magna Mor.” 636–637, 1207a, II.viii.4–5). The accent falls on ‘taxing’ it: týche is to be controlled, as far as possible. See Küpper (“Restmenge”, “Ordnung” 215); and the n. below. 81 Cf. “Fortune [‘τύχη’] is also a cause of those goods which are beyond calculation [‘παρὰ λόγον’]” (Rhet. 58–59, 1362a, I.v.17). Roberts has: “Luck is also the cause of good things that happen contrary to reasonable expectation” (“Rhetorica” 1362a, I.5). Kennedy: “Chance is also the cause of good things that are unaccountable” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 62).

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Along with the above, Aristotle logs another view as tries to supply a cause for something otherwise, apparently, inexplicable—thereby to ‘make’ sense of it: a man is fortunate according as things were arranged by nature [‘φύσει’]. Or is it because he is loved by God [‘ἢ τῷ φιλεῖσθαι (…) ὑπὸ θεοῦ’], as the phrase goes [‘ὥσπερ φασίν’], and because success is something from outside? (“Eudemian” 458–459, 1247a, VIII.ii.6)82

Once more, a linguistically sedimented, everyday view is cited, taken seriously.83 The epagogic philosopher continues to recapitulate the stated possibilities of felicitous outcomes—“due to […] nature [‘φύσει’] or intellect [‘νόῳ’] or some [sc. divine] guardianship [‘ἐπιτροπίᾳ’]”; and focuses on the first: “those who are fortunate will be so by nature” (“Eudemian” 458–459, 1247a, VIII.ii.7).84

|| 82 For rhetorical reasons, Aristotle here excludes this rationale: “But it is strange [‘ἄτοπον’] that a god or deity should love a man of this sort [sc. a foolishly successful one], and not the best and most prudent” (“Eudemian” 458–459, 1247a, VIII.ii.7; but cf. also Rhet. 260–261, 1391a–b, II.xvii.5–6); “and it is not likely that GOD provides for the bad [‘τὸν δὲ θεὸν τῶν φαύλων οὐκ εἰκὸς ἐπιμελεῖσθαι’]” (“Magna Mor.” 636–637, 1207a, II.viii.4); meaning, it will not seem—hence be difficult to render—plausible (considering recipients). Cf. and contrast Mt 3:17, 17:5; Mk 1:11, 9:7; Lk 3:22. Graced with a Greek standard of human excellence, the Stagirite does not suffer from a (pathological) love for the second son. In pagan contexts, the gods are with the brave (Achilleús) and cunning (Odysseús) alike: “audentis Fortuna iuvat” (Virgil “Aeneid VII–XII.” 192, X.284); “audentes forsque deusque iuvat” (Ovid Fasti 112, II.782). See (sub)chs. 6.6.2 and 13, herein. 83 Cf. “For most men [‘οἱ πολλοὶ’] suppose that the happy life [‘τὸν εὐδαίμονα βίον’] is the fortunate life [‘τὸν εὐτυχῆ εἶναι’], or at any rate includes Good Fortune. And perhaps they are right [‘καὶ ὀρθῶς ἴσως’]” (“Magna Mor.” 634–635, 1206b, II.viii.1; with “οὐθεὶς λέγει”, “λέγομεν”, 638, 1207a, II.viii.5; “λεγόμενος”, “φαμέν”, II.viii.6). Complexities arise not least in that “[t]here are more senses than one [‘πολλαχῶς’] in which we term a man fortunate” (“Magna Mor.” 638– 639, 1207a, II.viii.6). Cf. the ventriloquism that follows (signaled by the “φησίν”, implying a resp. heuristics): “should you ask” someone fortunate “why he thinks fit to act as he does, he will tell you he does not know, but merely sees fit to do so” (“Magna Mor.” 638–639, 1207b, II.viii.9). Incidentally, yet another hint that a ‘science of chance’ might seem unfeasible; cf. subch. 3.6. On the interplay of polysemy, contingency, induction, see ch. 5 (spec. 5.1.1, 5.1.2, 5.2.1), herein. 84 The ‘Divine’ hypothesis is taken up at the end of Aristotle’s segment (see “Eudemian” 466– 469, 1248a–b, VIII.21–24, spec. the précis at §24). Cf. the parallel: “Can Good Fortune [‘εὐτυχία’] […] be a kind of Divine providence [‘ὡς ἐπιμέλειά τις θεῶν’]? This we cannot believe; for we look to GOD, as controlling good and evil things, to apportion them in accordance with desert; whereas Fortune and its gifts are bestowed in very truth ‘fortuitously [‘τύχῃ’]’. If we attribute these gifts to GOD, we shall make Him either an incompetent judge or an unjust one [‘φαῦλον αὐτὸν κριτὴν ποιήσομεν ἢ οὐ δίκαιον’]; and this is alien to His nature” (“Magna Mor.” 636–637, 1207a, II.viii.3). Aristotle is speaking of a thoroughly rational(ized) deity (see “ἐπιμέλεια καὶ […] εὔνοια”, “Magna Mor.” 636, 1207a, II.viii.4), wherefore the implicit Christianizing of Armstrong’s version is beside the point passim; not only discourse historically, but also de re.

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Yet that (tentative) assertion poses problems, in conflicting with the mutually exclusive accounts of phýsis and týche (along Aristotelian lines): nature [‘φύσις’] of course is the cause [‘αἰτία’] of a thing that happens either always [‘ἀεὶ’] or generally in the same way [‘ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’], whereas fortune is the opposite [‘ἡ δὲ τύχη τοὐναντίον’]. (“Eudemian” 458–459, 1247a, VIII.ii.8)85

Since variants of the latter will reappear whenever talk is of chance, one might assume its provisional definitiveness, as far as the philosopher is concerned.86 Throughout this section (“Eudemian” 454–469, 1246b–1248b, VIII.ii.1–24), Aristotle ponders whether the cause is (more likely to be) phýsis or týche, by arguing in utramque partem vel in plures—balancing the pros and cons, as is his héxis (see 8.4, herein). Not seldom, it may be fortune—especially since some cases appear undecidable; whence chance is supplied as the more plausible reason. The most one would be able to say with a certain measure of rationality might be the ensuing: “fortune is […] not the cause of all the things of which it seems to be” (“Eudemian” 465, 1248a, VIII.ii.19).87 A characteristically Aristotelian turn: even this is contingent, could be otherwise—nescitur.

|| 85 For ‘ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ’, Freese has ‘as a (general) rule’ (cf. three instances at Rhet. 270–271, 1393a, II.xix.19, 22, 23). Bubner gives the formula as “im großen und ganzen” (“Zufall” 6). See Frede: “‘what happens for the most part and as a rule’” (66). 86 Cf. the parallel: “we can hardly assert that Fortune is part of Nature [‘φύσις’]. For whatever Nature causes [‘αἰτία’], it is wont usually [‘ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ’] if not invariably to reproduce. With Fortune it is never so. Its results are produced without order [‘ἀτάκτως’], and ‘fortuitously [‘ὡς ἔτυχην’]’: this being indeed the reason why we speak [‘λέγεται’] of Fortune as the cause of such events” (“Magna Mor.” 634–637, 1206b–1207a, II.viii.2). A particular example: “This heat […] to produce flesh or bone […] does not work on some casual material [‘οὔτε ὁ τι ἔτυχε’] in some casual place [‘οὔθ’ ὅπου ἔτυχεν’] at some casual time [‘οὔθ’ ὁπότε ἔτυχεν’’]; material, place and time must be those ordained by nature” (Gen. of Animals 220–221, 743a, II.vi; with 6–7, 715b, I.i). 87 Küpper comments: pars pro toto, the above “readily expresses” the philosopher’s “persistent attempts at assessing the significance of the casual as relatively slight”; while “proceeding from” the concept of “a comprehensively rational [and] ordered cosmos, [which] includes the human world” (n. to the ms. of the subch. at hand; Dec 4, 2019; trans. dsm). See the scholar’s accent on ‘(de)limitation’ as Aristotle’s—hence much of the Western tradition’s—“basic gesture of dealing with the possible” (“Ordnung” 213; trans. dsm; also 214, on the Stagirite’s policy of deprioritizing the issue). Then again, he does give at least one specimen of ‘irrational chance’ (“τύχη”, “παρὰ λόγον”) as may seem rather readily explicable: “for instance, a man’s brothers [‘ἀδελφοί’] are all ugly, while he is handsome” (Rhet. 58–59, 1362a, I.v.17). Being a gentleman, Aristotle may well have deemed it preferable that the actual cause go unsaid, precisely by attributing the effect to týche. Sieveke’s ed. ‘solves’ the problem by an erratum: “wenn z. B. alle anderen Bürger häßlich sind, dieser aber schön” (Rhet. [Sieveke] 32); an inverted ‘Freudian slip’, perchance.

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In the present, pragmatico-ethical context, the particular, inducing instance is specified as an “achievement” that is “unexpected”, even ‘counter to reason’ (“τὸ παραλόγως ἐπιτυγχάνειν”, “Eudemian” 458–459, 1247a, VIII.ii.8; see 464, 1248a, VIII.ii.17–18)—a typical attribute of chance events.88 In line with the above—and prioritizing consistency—Aristotle asserts that “fortune […] must both exist and be a cause”; else the notion ought to be “eliminated altogether”: “then nothing must be said [‘φατέον’] to come about from fortune” (“Eudemian” 460–461, 1247a, VIII.ii.10).89 As indicated at the onset of this subchapter, such would conflict with what is usually or frequently declared, when facing something (presently or altogether) inscrutable: “although there is another cause, because we do not see it[,] we say [‘φαμεν’] that fortune is a cause” (“Eudemian” 460–461, 1247a, VIII.ii.10). The decisive factor will be what everyone believes (to know); hence tends to enunciate.90 Ever is this an ascription: being otherwise unaccountable, what passes for týche depends on angles, settings, expressions. Expectations vary— according to time, place, mores (eras, climates, cultures, et caetera); and so does what is taken to be out of the ordinary.91 In a sense, fortune itself is contingent.

|| 88 Similarly: ‘aóriston’, ‘ápeiron’ (“Eudemian” 460, 1247b, VIII.ii.11), ‘álogon’ (“Eudemian” 460, 1247b, VIII.ii.10), ‘átakton’ (Phys. 5–8. 280, 252a, VIII.i); also ‘átopon’. Cf. “it is surely impossible to regard Fortune as a kind of intelligent Perception [‘νοῦν’] or rational Ruling [‘λόγον ὀρθόν’]; for their domain also exhibits an orderly sequence [‘τὸ τεταγμένον’] and invariability [‘τὸ ἀεὶ’] which Fortune lacks; so that where there is most of Intelligence [‘νοῦς’] and Rationality [‘λόγος’], there is least of Fortune or Luck [‘τύχη’]; and most of the latter where there is least intelligence” (“Magna Mor.” 636–637, 1207a, II.viii.2). Proceeding from particulars, Aristotle logs: “we term a man fortunate […] when he has happened [‘συνέβη’] to achieve something good beyond his own calculation [‘παρὰ τὸν λογισμὸν’]; and when he[,] who might reasonably [‘κατὰ λόγον’] expect to lose[,] has gained instead […]. Good Fortune […] appears to consist in the enjoyment of some good[,] which reason would not expect [‘παρὰ λόγον’][;] or the avoidance of some ill[,] which it would [‘εὔλογον’, reasonably] anticipate” (“Magna Mor.” 638–639, 1207a, II.viii.6–7). The measure is lógos; with a hint that a higher ‘Reason’ would have other ‘expectations’. Cf. “Luck […] is a natural instinct, not guided by reason [‘ἄλογος’]. For the fortunate man […] has an unreasoning impulse [‘ὁ ἄνευ λόγου ἔχων ὁρμὴν’] towards good things, and […] obtains them [‘ἐπιτυγχάνων’]. But this comes by Nature [‘φύσεως’]”—as “has implanted […] something which impels us irrationally [‘ᾧ ὁρμῶμεν ἀλόγως’] towards our advantage. […] [The] case is like that of men inspired [‘τοῖς ἐνθουσιάζουσιν’]; for they too have an unreasoning impulse [‘ἄνευ λόγου ὁρμὴν’] towards some particular act” (“Magna Mor.” 638–639, 1207a–b, II.viii.8–9). 89 Aristotle always excludes total determinism a priori, seeing as it conflicts with appearances. 90 Cf. “λέγεται”, “φαμεν” (“Eudemian” 462, 1247b, VIII.ii.14, with context). In Machiavelli’s effectual formulation: “Io credo che tu creda” (M [Bonino] 43, III.x). See Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 251n.; generally also: 233, 245n.–246n., 251n., 253n., 256, 256n., 262n., 265n., 274). 91 Natural phenomena seem useful cases in point. While permanent precipitation is a seasonal

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Tautological only prima facie, said implication is borne out by a striking remark from the parallel section in the Magna Moralia. This particular application may yield Aristotle’s basic drift regarding chance—quasi in nuce: It is […] in the good we receive that Luck [‘εὐτυχία’] is more clearly and appropriately recognized [‘ἂν δόξειεν εἶναι’]. To receive something good is [‘δόξειεν ἂν (…) εἶναι’] essentially [‘καθ’ αὑτὸ’] a piece of luck [‘εὐτύχημα’]; to escape something evil is so incidentally [‘κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς εὐτύχημα’]. (“Magna Mor.” 638–639, 1207a, II.viii.7)92

By any means and all: even contingency is used to curb or slight týche.93 As in other parts of his œuvre, Aristotle complements the aforesaid with the observation that there can—per definitionem—be no ‘science of chance’. When the same cause produces the same effect […] this will not be a matter of fortune; but when the same result follows from indeterminate and indefinite [‘ἀπ’ ἀπείρων καὶ ἀορίστων’] antecedents, it will be good or bad for somebody, but there will not be the knowledge

|| given (hence expected) in some areas, it would be exceptional (and so unforeseen) in others. The same might be said of whirlwinds, floods, permafrost, droughts, etc. Cf. Aristotle’s example: “No one assigns it to chance or to a remarkable coincidence [‘οὐδ’ ἀπὸ συμπτώματος’] if there is abundant rain in winter, though he would if there were in the dog-days; and the other way about, if there were parching heat” (Phys. 1–4. 170–171, 199a, II.viii; plus “Met. 10–14” 90–91, 1064b, XI.viii.4; Met. 1–9. 300–303, 1026b, VI.ii.7). Cf. Vogt (110). Tredennick glosses: “The period from July 3 to August 11, during which the dog-star Sirius rises and sets with the sun” (Met. 1–9. 301n.). The passage is also of interest in that Aristotle uses another term for the conundrum at hand. Zekl gives it as “[aus] bloßem Sichsoergeben” (“Physik” 44, 199a, II.8). Cf. a contextual nexus between “συμπτώμασιν”, “συμβεβηκότα” (“Met. 10–14” 302, 1093b, XIV.vi.11); the former is used occasionally (e.g. at Phys. 1–4. 170–171, 199a, II.viii; “Met. 10–14” 302, 1093b, XIV.vi.11; “Top.” 466, 126b, IV.v; “On Prophecy” 378, 463b, I; Rhet. 100–101, 1367b, I.ix.32). 92 Armstrong’s trans. of—or failure to render—‘δόξειεν ἂν εἶναι’ seems singularly infelicitous, here. Contrast Rackham’s diligence in an affine instance (at NE 566–567, 1171a, IX.x.5). Via the tertium ‘ápeiron’, Aristotle implicitly aligns týche and ‘kakón’: “evil is a form of the unlimited [‘τὸ γὰρ κακὸν τοῦ ἀπείρου’][…][—][‘]Goodness is simple [‘ἁπλῶς’], badness manifold [‘παντοδαπῶς δὲ κακοί’][’]” (NE 94–95, II.vi.14). Cf. Aquinas (in structure): “Just as divine providence does not wholly exclude evil from things, so also it does not exclude contingency, or impose necessity on things” (242, III.i.72.1; with 249, III.i.75.2; 251, III.i.75.8). Generally, von Fritz stresses “daß in der antiken Philosophie[…] das Begrenzte im allgemeinen höher gewertet wird als das Unbegrenzte und Unendliche […][;] die Grenze, das πέρας, [‘erscheint’] auf der Seite des Guten, des ἀγαθόν, das ἄπειρον auf der Seite des Schlechten, des κακόν. […] Aristoteles […] [‘billigt’] dem Endlichen und Begrenzten eine höhere Art der Existenz zu[…] als dem ἄπειρον” (“Das ἄπειρον” 678). 93 This modus is recycled by Aristotle (“κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς εὐτυχία”, “Magna Mor.” 640, 1207b, II.viii.11). In general, he may seem to be employing any apparently utile means for preventing (the notion of) chance from getting out of hand—or mind (as it were). See the citation above; with Küpper’s aforecited comment on the Stagirite’s iterated attempts at ‘moderating’ týche.

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[‘ἐπιστήμη’] of it that comes by experience [‘ἐμπειρίαν’], since, if there were, some fortunate persons would learn it[;] or […] all branches of knowledge [‘ἐπιστῆμαι’] would, as Socrates said, be forms of good fortune [‘εὐτυχίαι’]. (“Eudemian” 460–461, 1247b, VIII.ii.11; 461n.)94

Chance and rationality are wholly at odds: “fortune is the cause of things contrary to reason [‘παρὰ λόγον’], […] to knowledge and to general principle [‘παρὰ (…) τὴν ἐπιστήμην καὶ τὸ καθόλου’]” (“Eudemian” 464–465, 1248a, VIII.ii.18).95 “Intelligence [‘νοῦς’], Reason [‘λόγος’] and Knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμη’] appear to be something wholly foreign to it” (“Magna Mor.” 636–637, 1207a, II.viii.4).96 From a logical angle, contingency is ever an exception, describable only ex negativo.97 Once a notion happens to be floating in (virtual) cultural networks, the respective variants might give rise to a desire for totalizing it.98 Hence “fortune” || 94 Cf. e.g. these parallels (“Met. 10–14” 88–91, 1064b, XI.viii.1–3; Met. 1–9. 298–299, 1026b, VI.ii.3). In the above, Aristotle has changed one of the terms: the Platonic ‘Socrates’ equates “σοφία” with “εὐτυχία” (“Euthydem.” 406, 279D). Yet see also his definition of “Wisdom [‘σοφία’]” qua “knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμη’] of certain principles and causes [‘ἀρχὰς καὶ αἰτίας’]” (Met. 1–9. 8–9, 982a, I.i.17). If aiming for stability, it would not seem reasonable (or even feasible) to build a system on exceptions; wherefore the philosopher will (or rather, must) proceed from the rule, and—perchance—allow for certain odds and omissions. In terms of method, see this general directive: “Reason demands [‘εὐλόγος’, sc. it is ‘well (and) rational’] that we should only take for our hypotheses what we see to be generally or universally [‘ὅσα ἐπὶ πολλῶν ἢ πάντων’] true” (Heavens 96–97, 279b, I.x). Cf. Ross: “Every scientific problem is a universal problem” (53); “the object of all science is the universal, the kind” (69). 95 See Schopenhauer’s dictum that ‘logic is a mere paraphrase of the principle of (sufficient) reason’: “eine bloße Paraphrase des[…] [‘Satz(es) vom Grunde’] ist die Logik” (WWV I. 84, I.9). In certain contexts and to some extent, ‘rationality’ may virtually be equated—or used interchangeably—with ‘causality’. Since the former’s presence is contingent, so is the latter. 96 Cf. this typical pairing, frequently repeated with variation: “εἰ γὰρ ἀπὸ τύχης, οὐκ ἐξ ἀνάγκης” (“On Int.” 134, 18b, IX); “μὴ […] ἐξ ἀνάγκης ἀλλ’ ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν”, “may or may not, as the case may be” (in Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s freer version, Phys. 5–8. 334–335, 258a, VIII.v). More literally, Zekl: “nicht notwendig […], sondern […] wie es sich eben ergibt” (“Physik” 211, 258a, VIII.5); sc. ‘not necessarily, but as it chances (just so happens)’. Bubner gives “ὁπότερ[’] ἔτυχεν” as “‘wie es sich gerade so ergibt’” (Geschichtsprozesse 35; trans. dsm). Vogt uses “‘wie es sich gerade so fügte’ (hopoter etychen)”; and “sich ‘gerade so ergeben’” (125). See Blank’s rendering of Ammonius: “by chance (apo tukhês)”; “however it chances (hopoter’ etukhen)” (104, §141.36– 37). Cf. Sharples, trans. Alexander of Aphrodisias: “the contingent and the coming-to-be of some things ‘in whichever way it happens’” (51, §174.30–175.1, IX); “contingently”, i.e. “there is also room for […] being able not to come to be (as the very expression ‘in whichever way it happens’ makes clear)” (Alexander of Aphrodisias 52, §175.3–4, IX). See spec. subch. 3.7, herein. 97 Cf. Sorabji (Necessity 20); and Frede: “When discussing contingency[,] Aristotle usually discusses chance and what happens spontaneously, i.e. rare exceptions of the regular course things take. This seems to be due to Aristotle’s conception of science” (61n.). 98 Such tends to be the case with all supra-concepts—incl. (or spec.) ‘god’. When everything

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may well be seen or taken as “the cause of everything [‘πάντων’]—even of thought [‘νοῆσαι’] and deliberation [‘βουλεύσασθαι’]” (“Eudemian” 464–465, 1248a, VIII.ii.20). This not altogether guileless guess, or innocent conjecture, would come rather close to a conception of thoroughgoing contingency—at potentially all levels of cognition and experience (see 4.4, herein). Yet Aristotle advances still, pushing the tentative thought experiment plus ultra—with a view to encountering a limit. In so doing, he provisionally demonstrates that—in order to prevent a regressus ad infinitum (“ἄπειρων”)— some “starting-point” is noetically needful; he acknowledges that positing chance as such is actually possible: “what else” may serve as a ‘basis or point of departure’ (“ἀρχή”), “save fortune? It will follow that everything originates from fortune [‘ἀπὸ τύχης ἅπαντα ἔσται’]” (“Eudemian” 466–467, 1248a, VIII.ii.20).99 While hardly reasonable in effect, the ratio seems capacitated to verbally conceive of—though not actually to grasp—its own negation in the form of týche’s utter irrationality.100 As is stated in the parallel locus: Good Fortune [‘εὐτυχία’] and Luck [‘τύχη’] operate in a sphere beyond our competence [‘ἐν τοῖς μὴ ἐφ’ ἡμῖν οὖσιν’], where we have no control [‘μηδ’ ὧν αὐτοὶ κύριοί ἐσμεν’] nor can take effective action [‘καὶ δυνατοὶ πρᾶξαι’]. (“Magna Mor.” 636–639, 1207a, II.viii.5)101

In this realm, matters are contingent indeed: may well be one, another, no way.102

|| is ‘full thereof’ (Thales), the drive towards a reductio ad unum (one principle, deity, etc.) may seem well-nigh irresistible. Cf. subch. 5.2. In all probability, monotheism is (and has ever been) a reaction, response. Plurality is more likely, given the variety, diversity of (initially) inexplicable experiences in the world. The (noetically) inductive directedness of the ‘e pluribus unum’ seems to be standard, as far as human cognition and involvement is concerned (cf. e.g. Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.5; “Post. An.” 256–261, 100a–b, II.xix). See subch. 2.1; plus the onset of ch. 4, herein. 99 Cf. “it is not the case that one only deliberates when one has deliberated even previously to that deliberation, nor does one only think when one has previously thought before thinking, and so on to infinity, but there is some starting point” (“Eudemian” 465–467, 1248a, VIII.ii.20). In the latter case, the excluded view might be reached for, but not grasped; hence the need for an arché. 100 See Blumenberg’s formula (here refunctionalized): “zwar noch von [etwas] […] reden, […] [es] aber nicht mehr denken [‘könne(n)’]” (Realität 74; infinitized). 101 While Aristotle’s theme ad locum is spec. eutychía, he expressly links it to the more inclusive concept of týche. Hence the above passage may also be taken as a general statement on chance. Cf. “By fortune [‘τύχην’] I mean noble birth, wealth, power, and their contraries, and, in general [‘ὅλως’], good or bad fortune [‘εὐτυχίαν καὶ δυστυχίαν’]” (Rhet. 246–247, 1389a, II.xii.2). Generally, Fuhrmann (Dichtungstheorie 39; 206n.); Sommer: “Auch und vor allem dies, daß ich lebe, ist nicht Resultat meines Handelns” (“Zufall” 100; with 110–111). See subch. 4.5, herein. 102 Aristotle declares matter to be eternal per se (cf. subch. 3.2). Doctrine aside, naught prevents one’s supposing otherwise. A sheer nihil can be uttered, reached via negation—hardly grasped.

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Hence humans would generally and else appear capable of having (had) a hand therein.103 Yet not over all fallouts could they ever obtain—or always maintain— power; and the potential for otherwiseness seems to take on a life of its own.104 At the above, critical point—where the Stagirite might give the impression of approaching or anticipating positions to become highly virulent in a completely altered discursive environment, some fifteen hundred years later—his ensuing maneuver leads back to the ‘Lectures on Nature’. Aristotle’s (utterly) rationalistic preconceptions as to the kósmos—hence phýsis—cannot but interfere with a belief in sheer contingency: they are profoundly incompatible (see 4.4, 4.5, 6.5, herein). With regard to various human actions of cognition and articulation, the basis sought for is set as being analogous to the one presupposed at the macrolevel: this is what we are investigating [‘ζητούμενον’]—what is the starting-point of motion in the spirit [‘τίς ἡ τῆς κινήσεως ἀρχὴ ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ’]? The answer […] is clear: as in the universe [‘ὥσπερ ἐν τῷ ὅλῳ’], so there, everything is moved by God [‘θεὸς καὶ πᾶν ἐκεῖ κινεῖ’]; for in a manner the divine element in us is the cause of all our motions [‘κινεῖ γὰρ πως πάντα τὸ ἐν ἡμῖν θεῖον’]. And the starting-point of reason is not reason but something superior to reason [‘λόγου δ’ ἀρχὴ οὐ λόγος ἀλλά τι κρεῖττον’]. What, then, could be superior even to knowledge and to intellect, except God? (“Eudemian” 466–467, 1248a, VIII.ii.21–22)105

Perhaps, the latter. For something higher than the lógos may seem irrational to the same.106 Yet such could not find Aristotle’s approval. To a disciplined mind,

|| 103 Aristotle proceeds from what is said: “no one speaks of the just man as lucky in being just, nor [likewise of] the courageous or any other man of virtue; since the possession or absence of these qualities is within our own competence [‘ἐφ’ ἡμῖν γάρ ἐστι ταῦτα καὶ ἔχειν καὶ μὴ ἔχειν’]” (“Magna Mor.” 638–639, 1207a, II.viii.5). (A capacity for discerning) contingency is the condition of possibility for performing in more ways than one—as against a quasi instinctual bearing. 104 The philosopher points to something like ‘accomplished causations’ especially. Such remain beyond the reach of the present: “There are […] advantages which we can attribute more appropriately to Luck. We say for example that the man of good birth [‘εὐγενῆ’] is fortunate; and similarly any man endowed with the kind of good things that is beyond his control [‘ὧν μὴ αὐτὸς κύριος ἐστίν’]” (“Magna Mor.” 638–639, 1207a, II.viii.5). As per Aristotle’s usual line, events of— and in—the past are relieved of contingency. Cf. (sub)chs. 3.7, 4 (spec. 4.1, 4.4), herein. 105 Cf. “for nature has implanted in all things something divine [‘πάντα γὰρ φύσει ἔχει τι θεῖον’]” (NE 440–441, 1153b, VII.xiii.6). 106 See e.g. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isa 55:8–9; KJV). Characteristically oxymoronic, Paul of Tarsus exploits that irrational rationale (or the reasonableness of unreason) to the utmost (citing e.g. Isa 29:14 at 1Cor 1:19; and Job 5:13, Ps 94:11, at 1Cor 3:19–20; n. in NIV). His own formulations are maximally contrastive (exploiting antithesis). See 1Cor 1:18–27, spec. “we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness […] the foolishness

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the very notion that the infinitely illogical disorder associated with chancefulness have priority or supremacy regarding the lógos cannot be acceptable.107 Even so, the central statement (“θεὸς”, “θεῖον”) all but begs the question: the need (or desire) for an ‘arché’ is noetic, not necessarily factual. Nor is a rhetorical query an argument—let alone a philosophical one, when intimating dógmata. In general, it will seem functional to be arguing by way of (say) the principles of rational economy or sufficient reason; of identity, (non)contradiction, tertium non datur—with a view to the impression of consistency; or against infinite regress.108 For such (logical) archaí appear, from experience, to have a tendency || of God is wiser than men” (v.23 and 25; KJV; with 3:18–20). Cf. Marquard (Gewaltenteilung 101); as well as the onset of ch. 7, with subch. 8.5.1, herein. 107 It must seem ‘counterintuitive’ (so to say). If chaos (an, or the, epitome of sheer chance) be the arché of order, the latter literally rests on perpetually uncertain—unsound, shifting—grounds (cf. subch. 4.4). Opting for contingency (outright) is not the ‘natural’ choice—as long as there is faith in Reason. Generally, Boethius—and Aquinas even more so—will be pertinent samples; ex negativo, one might instance the Augustinian, Lutheran cases (incl. scorn for the nous in the latter). As is his lifelong habit, Petrarca tries to have it both ways, almost at once. Pragmatically, Machiavelli crafts a very similar impression, wherein rationality and Fortune seem equipoised, more or less (while actually leaning toward týche). The Montaignian and Shakespearean variants of (neo-)Skepticism also follow this basic tendency of balance (with the same tilt). Blumenberg’s scholarly struggle with ‘naked contingency’ and Nominalist voluntarism may well be offset by what appears to be an even greater uneasiness with the total(itarian) tyranny of the opposite absolutism (cf. subchs. 4.4, 5.1.1, 11.1, herein). Needless to say, this provisional gloss is altogether conjectural; and would require proof or refutation en détail. 108 See spec. Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 160–165, 1005b–1006a, IV.iii.5–IV.iv.6; with Blank’s gloss at Ammonius 126n.). Qua natural (“φύσει”) arch-principle (“ἀρχὴ”) or “ultimate belief [‘ἐσχάτην δόξαν’]” (Met. 1–9. 162–163, 1005b, IV.iii.12), he gives the ensuing: “It is impossible for the same attribute at once to belong and not to belong to the same thing and in the same relation” (Met. 1–9. 161, 1005b, IV.iii.9); “the most certain of all beliefs is that opposite statements are not both true at the same time” (Met. 1–9. 199, 1011b, IV.vi.10). Cf. “A contradiction [‘ἀντίφασις’] is an opposition [‘ἀντίθεσις’] which of its very nature excludes any middle” (“Post. An.” 32–33, 72a, I.ii). See subch. 3.7; more generally, ch. 8, herein. On halting the regressus ad infinitum by means of an ‘arché’—incidentally in the context of chance—cf. Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 162–163, 1006a, IV.iv.2; plus 170–173, 1007a–b, Iv.iv.23; 272–273, 1022b, V.xx.1; 344–345, 1033b, VII.viii.3; and “Met. 10–14” 128–129, 1070a, XII.iii.1; “Post. An.” 142–143, 86a, I.xxiv; “Eudemian” 466–467, 1248a, VIII.ii.20; “Coming-to-Be” 324–325, 337b, II.11; with 324n.–325n.; Phys. 5–8. 320–323, 256a, VIII.v; 324–325, 257a, VIII.v; 328–329, 257a, VIII.v; NE 28–29, 1097b, I.vii.7138–139, 1113a, III.iii.16). Bubner stresses that ‘Aristotle often uses’ this “Argument des verbotenen Regresses” (Studien 30; with Antike Themen 117). See Tredennick (“Intro. [Post. An.]” 6–7). As to rational economy (e.g. at Heavens 132–133, 284a, II.i), Sorabji notes: “Aristotle sometimes appears to have considerable sympathy for the principle of sufficient reason” (Necessity 25). Schopenhauer offers the ensuing as “logische Grundsätze”: “den Satz vom Widerspruch, vom zureichenden Grunde, vom ausgeschlossenen Dritten, das dictum de omni et nullo” (WWV I. 86, I.9).

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toward plausibility in orderly forms or habits of thought—being presuppositions in the alteri respectively present, or an envisioned reader.109 This does not signify that any of these—or similar presumptions—produce certainties (let alone ‘absolute’ ones).110 Ultimately, they are rhetorical devices, which—given the common organization, typical structure of human reasoning— yield the impression of not being such (enhancing their effectuality).111

|| 109 Cf. Wicksteed/Cornford as to ‘having’ “good reasons for”—potentially—“wrong opinions” (xviii). See von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 660); Blumenberg, de re (“Über den Rand” 20). Ever is it a question of the gauge applied. Generally, cf. Schopenhauer: “Die Einkleidung einer solchen Sophistikation kann die fortlaufende Rede, oder auch die strenge Schlußform seyn, je nachdem die schwache Seite des Hörers es anräth. Im Grunde sind die meisten wissenschaftlichen, besonders philosophischen Beweisführungen nicht viel anders beschaffen” (WWV I. 88–89, I.9). 110 Implying the axioms of (non)contradiction and non-simultaneity (of what seems converse), Aristotle logs as an ‘impossibility’ that a “teacher” be “in [the] process of himself learning” what “he is teaching” (Phys. 5–8. 325, 257a, VIII.v; “διδάσκεσθαι τὸ διδάσκον”, 326): “this coincidence of teacher and taught [‘τὸ διδάσκον (…) συμβαίνει μανθάνειν’] […] is self-contradictory [‘ἀδύνατον’][;] for […] the one has the knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμην’] and the other has it not” (Phys. 5–8. 326–327, 257a, VIII.v; with: “διδάσκοι (…) καὶ διδάσκοιτο ἅμα”, 328, 257b, VIII.v). Then again, teaching is interactive. So while the above will be invalid logically, it does happen (could even be the regular case). One may discover much by virtue of instructing—as any educator, incl. the Stagirite, is likely to experience often. Still, it seems conceivable to be learning something specific by imparting it in general (as far as one’s knowledge reaches). Aristotle’s first mention of this (counter) example concerns a teacher of geometry (at Phys. 5–8. 324–325, 257a, VIII.v). Here, his point would seem to be valid almost categorically: one does (or could) not come up with (say) the Pythagorean theorem while expounding that very same axiom. When instruction is per se at issue—as in the iterations of that sample (Phys. 5–8. 326–327, 257a, VIII.v)—the case is not so plain; will likely not hold in general. See the relevant lines in Zekl’s rendition: “‘Wenn jemand Geometrie lehrt, so wird derselbe auch in Geometrie belehrt’ […][.] ‘Das Lehrende wird belehrt’ […]. Aber das ist […] unmöglich: dann käme ja heraus, daß wer lehrt, lernt, wovon doch das eine heißen muß: ‘Wissen nicht haben’, das andere: ‘Wissen haben’” (“Physik” 207–208, 257a, VIII.5; “zugleich lehren und lernen”, 209, 257b, VIII.5). Aristotle does note that, at times, it may be “impossible to define [‘ὁρίσασθαι’] what a thing is [‘τὸ τί ἔστιν’]”; while “it is possible actually to teach others what a thing is like [‘ποῖον μέν τί ἐστιν’]” (Met. 1–9. 412–413, 1043b, VIII.iii.7). Approximative descriptions of quality compensate for unattainable delimitations. Induction prevails where deduction fails. See subchs. 3.5, 4.3, 5.2 (spec. 5.2.1), herein. 111 Cf. e.g. “Aristotle constantly falls back upon the axiom that ‘two bodies cannot occupy the same place’. He never defends or examines this belief” (Wicksteed/Cornford xxiv; contrast lix; see Phys. 1–4. 5n.). Yet such is a variant of the above arch-axiom, with respect to which the philosopher declares: “Some […] demand to have the law proved, but this is because they lack education [sc. ‘in logic’]; for it shows lack of education not to know of what we should require proof, and of what we should not. For it is quite impossible that everything should have a proof; the process would go on to infinity, so that even so there would be no proof” (Met. 1–9. 163, 1006a, IV.iv.2; with 162n.; 160–161, 1005b, IV.iii.5). The meta-axiom (of axioms): “the starting-

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Even were philosophy willing to perceive this state of affairs, it could still not admit the fact—without simultaneously acknowledging its being but a subdivision of the art it habitually disowns (see 8.2, 11.1.2, 11.1.3, 11.2.2, herein). Above, Aristotle requires a basis to halt a regressus. Týche will not do; hence ‘something divine’ must replace it.112 In this way, his rationale comes rather close to the notion that the appearance of chance is due to human (in)capacities—as outlined for the Physics, whereto this study now returns (see the onset of 13 also).

3.4 The Rationality of (Reckoning with) Unaccountability Physics II.v–vi (196b–198a) and Metaphysics XI.viii (1064b–1065b) alle Gegenstände der Wahrnehmung und der Erfahrung [‘können’] als kontingent gedacht werden […] – also: als ebensowohl existierend wie nicht existierend[.] —Blumenberg (Phänomen. 251)113

In the second book (segment five) of the ‘Lectures on Nature’, Aristotle begins to present his own view. As always, the ultimate basis will be (aisthetic, linguistic) perception—proceeding from “a primary datum of observation and experience” (Wicksteed/Cornford lxviii).114 The corresponding method is inductive: || point of a demonstration is not a matter of demonstration” (Met. 1–9. 195, 1011a, IV.vi.2; cf. “Post. An.” 260–261, 100b, II.xix); “there can be no scientific knowledge of the first principles” (“Post. An.” 261, 100b, II.xix; see NE 340–341, 1140b, VI.vi.1; “Magna Mor.” 560–561, 1197a, I.xxxiv.13); “regarding the first principles of science [‘ἐν ταῖς ἐπιστημονικαῖς ἀρχαῖς’] it is unnecessary to ask any further question as to ‘why [‘τὸ διὰ τί’]’, but each principle should of itself command belief [‘πιστίν’]” (“Top.” 272–273, 100b, I.i; with 276–277, 101a–b, I.ii). Cf. Aquinas (119, XIV.24, after 19a12); von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 649; 651; 654; 669); Forster (268); Rieger (1143); Ross: “the first principles of the sciences are learnt by induction” (39; plus 43–44; 54–55). 112 In the history of discourses, this substitutive process has proven polydirectional. The most plausible reason therefor is provided by Küpper (“Episteme” 118; cited above). On Machiavelli’s resp. move, see Strauss (Thoughts 209; 213–214); Mayfield (Artful 100–105, spec. 104n.). 113 “all items of perception and experience [‘can be’] thought [of] as contingent […] – ergo: just as well qua existent as [qua] non-existent” (trans. dsm). Elseness itself—qua (noetic, linguistic) phenomenon—may be taken as not being; or (simply) denied. This potential feedback effect will be patent in the ensuing: “Kontingente Wahrheiten […] könnten, das macht eben definitorisch ihre Kontingenz aus, auch nicht wahr sein” (Leppin 84–85). The explicative adjective elicits the contradictio in adiecto latent in all deductive efforts at coming to terms with the phenomenon: there can be no (much less an exhaustive) ‘definition’ of contingency; inductive, makeshift, descriptive attempts at most. Otherwiseness itself might be else; e.g. and inter alia: necessary. 114 Generally, see the onset of ch. 4, herein. Cf. Ross: “We must take it as established by experience that change exists, and we must make this our basis” (63). “Nature […] is ‘innate impulse to movement’. That this exists is obvious from experience and needs no proof” (67).

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we note [‘ὡρῶμεν’] that some things follow upon others uniformly [‘ἀεὶ’] or generally [‘τὰ (…) ὡς ἐπὶ πολύ’], and it is evidently [‘φανερὸν’] not such things that we attribute [‘λέγεται’] to chance or luck [‘τύχη’]. (Phys. 1–4. 146–147, 196b, II.v)

Conversely, one does refer to (“φασὶν”) said phenomenon sensu lato (“ἡ τύχη καὶ τὸ αὐτόματον”), when something has not met—or goes against (“παρὰ”)—these conditions of necessity (“ἐξ ἀνάγκης”) or regularity; wherefore what is so designated does seem to have a fundamentum in re (“τὰ ἀπὸ τύχης τοιαῦτα ὄντα ἴσμεν”, Phys. 1–4. 146–149, 196b, II.v).115 Language, linguistic usage—parlances floating in a given culture’s networks—are the measure, touchstone, and arché.116 Using his theory of causal directedness qua basis, Aristotle specifies ways in which an impression of unexpectedness might ensue. In generally or potentially (“ἐνδέχεται”) purposive situations (“τὸ ἕνεκά του”), be they so naturally (“ἀπὸ φύσεως”), or noetically—meaning, due to forethought at least conceivably (“ἀπὸ διανοίας ἄν πραχθείη”)—the actual fallout(s) may be unpremeditated (“οὐ κατὰ προαίρεσιν”), against regularity (“[παρὰ] τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ πολὺ”) or relative necessity (“παρὰ τὸ ἀναγκαῖον”, Phys. 1–4. 148, 196b, II.v; “παρὰ φύσιν”, 160, 197b, II.vi).117 Aristotle reiterates that what is referred to (“λέγεται”) as ‘týche’ (with respect to human activities), and as the ‘autómaton’ (regarding natural processes), pertains to—basically, ultimately—purposive circumstances: “ἄμφω ἐν τοῖς ἕνεκά τού ἐστιν” (Phys. 1–4. 148–150, 196b, II.v; with 152n.).118

|| 115 Cf. “παρὰ τὸ ἀναγκαῖον” (Phys. 1–4. 148, 196b, II.v). 116 For the present section, see the characteristic “λέγεται” (at Phys. 1–4. 148, 196b, II.v; with 150, 152, and 154, 197a, II.v). Generally, cf. this formulation: “as we are accustomed to use the term [‘ὥσπερ εἰώθαμεν λέγειν’]” (“Prior An.” 528–529, 70b, II.xxvii). Ross logs “that a study of the forms of language was one of Aristotle’s main guides” (22; infinitized; cf. 30). 117 This paragraph is indebted to Zekl’s trans. (“Physik” 37, 196b, II.5). Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s paraphrase seems rather far from the source (Phys. 1–4. 149). See the parallel in Tredennick’s version: “Teleology [‘Τὸ (…) ἕνεκά του’] is found in events which come about in the course of nature [‘ἐν τοῖς φύσει’] or as a result of thought [‘ἀπὸ διανοίας’]” (“Met. 10–14” 92–93, 1065a, XI.viii.10; plus 92n.); “it is the same with natural formations as it is with the products of art. For the seed produces just as do those things which function by art. It contains the form potentially [‘ἔχει γὰρ δυνάμει τὸ εἶδος’]” (Met. 1–9. 350–351, 1034a–b, VII.ix.5). Cf. the nexus of nous, téchne, and eidos, as opposed to týche (Met. 1–9. 338–341, 1032b, VII.vii.6–8; 350–351, 1034a, VII.ix.3). 118 “beide [‘gehören’] zu den Ereignissen ‘wegen etwas’” (“Physik” 37). The paraphrase: “what we mean by luck or chance […] is the incidental production of some significant result by a cause that took its place in the causal chain incidentally, and without the result in question being contemplated” (Phys. 1–4. 149–151, 196b, II.v). See Bröcker (260). Effects ‘against (the normal course of) nature’ tend to be correlated with chance (cf. Rhet. 110–111, 1369b, I.x.13); spec. since phýsis itself is—generally, for the most part—seen to be (proceeding) orderly (all but inevitably). Aristotle’s ultimate standard in this respect will be the idea of kósmos. Cf. subch. 3.2, herein.

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As intimated—and expressly repeated at the end of the segment—the realm of such accidentally caused (“αἴτια […] κατὰ συμβεβηκός”) upshots (“ἡ τύχη καὶ τὸ αὐτόματον”) is that of contingency; specifically in the sense of a potentiality for being otherwise than the general run or rule (“ἐν τοῖς ἐνδεχομένοις γίγνεσθαι μὴ ἁπλῶς μηδ’ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ”, Phys. 1–4. 154–155, 197a, II.v).119 Apart from a failure of the envisaged one(s), there is (ever) the possibility of side effects: “when such results accrue incidentally [‘κατὰ συμβεβηκός’], we say [‘φαμὲν’] that they come ‘by chance’ [‘ἀπὸ τύχης’]” (Phys. 1–4. 148–149, 196b, II.v).120 As with most matters, a cause (“αἴτιον”) may (“ἐνδέχεται”)—‘coincidentally’—have “other attributes” withal (Phys. 1–4. 148–149, 196b, II.v).121 || 119 “produce effects that possibly, but not necessarily or generally, follow” (Phys. 1–4. 155, 197a, II.v). Cf. what “is possible [‘τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον’] […] will not be necessary [‘οὐκ ἀναγκαῖον’], and that which is not necessary will be possible” (“Prior An.” 254–255, 32a, I.xiii); “the possible is not necessary” (“Prior An.” 257, 32a, I.xiii). “I call a thing possible if when, not being necessary, it is assumed to be true, no impossibility will therefore be involved” (“Prior An.” 255, 32a, I.xiii); “the expression ‘to be possible [‘τὸ ἐνδέχεσθαι’]’ is used [‘λέγεται’] […] to describe what generally [‘τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ’] happens but falls short of being necessary […]; and […] to describe the indeterminate [‘τὸ ἀόριστον’], which is capable of happening both in a given way and otherwise [‘ὃ καὶ οὕτως καὶ μὴ οὕτως δυνατόν’]: e.g., the walking of an animal, or the happening of an earthquake while it is walking, or in general a chance occurrence [‘ἢ ὅλως τὸ ἀπὸ τύχης γιγνόμενον’]; for it is no more natural that such a thing should happen in one way than in the opposite way [‘οὐδὲν γὰρ μᾶλλον οὕτως πέφυκεν ἢ ἐναντίως’]. […] the indeterminate […] happens no more in one way than in another” (“Prior An.” 256–257, 32b, I.xiii). Tredennick précises: “Three conceptions of the ‘possible’ appear in the Analytics. (1) That which is not impossible. […] (2) That which is neither impossible nor necessary […][;] the possible […] as (3) that which, as contrasted with the purely contingent, obtains generally but not necessarily, i.e. the probable” (“Intro. [Prior An.]” 190–191). Cf. Ross (30–31). 120 See Zekl’s expedient phrase: “als nebenbei eintretende Wirkung” (“Physik” 37, 196b, II.5). Cf. “a connexion that is incidental may possibly cease [‘οὐ (…) ἀναγκαῖον τὸ συμβεβηκός, ἀλλ’ ἐνδεχόμενον μὴ εἶναι’]” (Phys. 5–8. 322–323, 256b, VIII.v). More literally: “‘nebenbei zutreffend’ ist […] nicht ‘notwendig’, sondern etwas, das auch einmal nicht sein kann” (“Physik” 206). 121 Aristotle’s case: someone constructs (causa efficiens) a house (finalis); his or her phenotype, and ‘musical’ (sc. “‘liberal arts’”, Plato “Sophist” 291n.) education, are incidental to the (sheer) act of building (see Phys. 1–4. 149, 196b, II.v). What does not pertain to something “per se [‘καθ’ αὑτὰ’]”—“as e.g., ‘cultured’ or ‘white’ belongs to ‘animal’—I call accidents [‘συμβεβηκότα’]” (“Post. An.” 44–45, 73b, I.iv); “per se attributes [‘τὰ καθ’ αὑτὰ’] must belong to their subjects of necessity [‘ἀνάγκη’]. […] all universal attributes [‘ὅσα καθόλου’] belong to their subjects of necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]” (“Post. An.” 46–47, 73b, I.iv); “predicates […] which do not denote essence […] indicate accidents [‘συμβεβηκότα’], as e.g., ‘white’ is predicated of ‘man’; […] but he is presumably an animal [‘ἀλλὰ ζῷον ἴσως’]; […] a thing cannot be white unless it is something else first” (“Post. An.” 120–121, 83a, I.xxii). Aristotle précises: “An accident [‘Συμβεβηκὸς’] is that which is none of these things—neither definition [‘μήτε ὅρος’], nor property [‘μήτε ἴδιον’], nor genus—but still belongs to the thing. Also it is something which can [‘ἐνδέχεται’] belong and not

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Whereas “direct causation is determinate and calculable [‘αἴτιον ὡρισμένον’]”, ‘the incidental’ (“τὸ […] κατὰ συμβεβηκός”) is—by definition from the negative (since Aristotle presupposes order)—‘indefinite’ (“ἀόριστον”): for one and the same person or thing may have an in[…]finite number of incidental qualifications [‘ἄπειρα γὰρ ἂν τῷ ἑνὶ συμβαίη’]. (Phys. 1–4. 148–149, 196b, II.v)122

As per human capacities, chance might seem inestimable—but also exploitable.123 By virtue of shifting the accent or focus of attention, this is precisely one of the ‘places’ (tópoi, loci) where rhetoric might take advantage of contingency, as far as the ‘quale sit’ is concerned.124 For what is otherwise an accompanying— ‘ac-cidental’—aspect or feature could be rendered (or stylized qua) pivotal.125 Associable qualities are virtually inexhaustible, as well. || belong to any one particular thing […]. The second of these definitions of accident is better; for […] [it] suffices of itself to enable us to know what is meant without anything more” (“Top.” 284– 285, 102b, I.v; cf. 292–293, 103b, I.viii); “an accident is something which can and also can not belong to something” (“Top.” 423, 120b, IV.i). The first definition proceeds ex negativo; the second suggests contingency—whose concept is typically arrived at by a comparable process. 122 (See Phys. 1–4. 152–153, 197a, II.v). Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s trans. is rather free, here as throughout. Zekl has: “Die Ursache im eigentlichen Sinn ist eindeutig bestimmt, die Ursache in der Nebenbedeutung nicht festgelegt; denn auf diesen einen Gegenstand kann ja unendlich Vieles zutreffen” (“Physik” 37, 196b, II.v). Cf. “In the case of accidents […], there is nothing to prevent an attribute belonging in part only” (“Top.” 333, 109a, II.i); “only in the case of accidents can something be predicated conditionally and not universally [‘τὸ γὰρ πῇ καὶ μὴ καθόλου ἐπὶ μόνον ἐνδέχεται τῶν συμβεβηκότων’]” (“Top.” 330–331, 109a, II.i); “nothing prevents the accident from becoming both a relative and a temporary property, but it will never be a property absolutely [‘ἁπλῶς δ’ ἴδιον οὐκ ἔσται’]” (“Top.” 287, 102b, I.v). “An event has only one formal cause, which is present in every instance; but it may be inferred from any of the various properties which are its ‘signs’ […]; and may have any number of accidental causes” (“Post. An.” 248n.). See Sorabji: “accidents have only ‘indefinite’ causes” (Necessity 6); “the causes which he is willing to ascribe to accidents are called ‘indefinite’ or ‘infinite’” (Necessity 24). 123 Cf. the qualification of chance (sensu lato) as ‘aóriston’ in other loci (e.g. at Phys. 1–4. 162, 198a, II.vi; “Met. 10–14” 92, 1065b, XI.viii.9; “Prior An.” 256, 32b, I.xiii; Met. 1–9. 174, 1007b, IV.iv.28; 290, 1025a, V.xxx.3; 308, 1028a, VI.iv.4; Rhet. 110, 1369a, I.x.12). Tredennick observes an “association of the accident with problematic predication” (“Intro. [Prior An.]” 190; referring to “Prior An.” 256–257, 32b, I.xiii; and “Top.” 284–285, 102b, I.v). 124 See spec. subchs. 4.2 and 4.3; as well as the onsets of chs. 7, 8, and 13, herein. 125 Cf. “that which happens to something else in virtue of the latter’s own nature is said to happen to it per se; while that which does not so happen is called an accident [‘τὸ δὲ μὴ δι’ αὑτὸ συμβεβηκός’]. E.g., if it lightens while a man is walking, it is an accident; for it was not because he was walking that it lightened; it was, as we say, an accident [‘ἀλλὰ συνέβη, φαμέν, τοῦτο’]” (“Post. An.” 44–45, 73b, I.iv). It chanced in passing, as it were. Yet Saul, Luther—and other believers in Providence—might care to differ. Cf. Acts 9:3–4, 22:6–7, 26:13–14; with Oberman

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From Aristotle’s rationalistic stance, chance sensu lato is a perspectivally induced, noetico-linguistic byproduct of what is else a directed process—be the latter’s goal natural or human.126 Its discernment depends on the articulation of a certain—ultimately contingent—viewpoint, which might as well be otherwise.127 If, hypothetically, the present animal would, or could, not reckon with ends or aims, accidental attainments—plus the coincidental thwarting or termination of somehow targeted courses of action—would not be perceived (as such). Then again, thinking in causal terms may seem to be a human invariant (see 2.1, 13). In the light of his own theory, Aristotle now reassesses two of the aforesaid common grounds (noetic impermeability, strict determinism): The incidentally causative forces [‘αἴτια’] are […] indefinite [‘Ἀόριστα’] […]. This is [also] why luck [‘τύχη’] appears [‘δοκεῖ’] to have something evasive [‘ἀόριστου’] about it and to be inscrutable by man [‘ἄδηλος ἀνθρώπῳ’]; and why […] there is a sense in which it might seem that nothing at all really goes by luck [‘καὶ οὐδὲν ἀπὸ τύχης δόξειεν ἂν γίγνεσθαι’] […]. For all these opinions have some justification in the facts [‘πάντα γὰρ ταῦτα ὀρθῶς λέγεται, ὅτι εὐλόγος’][.] (Phys. 1–4. 152–153, 197a, II.v)128 || (97–99; 132–134). Hardly will Luther’s choice of term seem incidental: “Hoc fulmine sternitur et conteritur penitus liberum arbitrium ideo qui liberum arbitrium volunt assertum, debent hoc fulmen vel negare vel dissimulare, aut alia ratione a se abigere” (“De servo arb.” 250, WA615, StA190). For what cannot but appear as a ‘typologizing remodeling’ (Küpper’s term; cf. e.g. Discursive 28; 333; passim), see Amslinger on Valéry (175). 126 Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s paraphrase: “luck itself, regarded as a cause, is the name we give to causation which incidentally inheres in deliberately purposeful action taken with respect to some other end but leading to the event we call fortunate. […] significant results of such causes we say ‘come by luck’. […] since choice [‘προαίρεσις’] implies intention, […] luck [‘τύχη’] and intention [‘διάνοια’] are concerned with the same field of object” (Phys. 1–4. 151–153, 197a, II.v; see 152n.). More literally, Zekl: “die Fügung [sc. týche] [‘ist’] eine Ursache im nebensächlichen Sinn […], im Bereich der Ereignisse wegen etwas, (und hier besonders) unter denen, die nach einem Vorsatz erfolgen. Deshalb können sich planende Vernunft und Fügung [sc. týche] auf ein und dasselbe Ereignis beziehen, denn Vorsatz gibt es nicht ohne planende Vernunft” (“Physik” 38). Tredennick trans. the parallel thus: “Chance [‘ἡ τύχη’] is an accidental cause of normally purposive teleological events. Hence chance and thought have the same sphere of action, for there is no purpose without thought” (“Met. 10–14” 92–93, 1065a, XI.viii.10–11). 127 In the Aristotelian kósmos (or worldview), ‘chance’ sensu lato—i.e. natural and human variants—exists (only) for someone. It requires the targeted, and otherwise regulated, workings of a certain sentience, or mindfulness, to discern that there is a variance or exception at all (sc. ‘with’, ‘from’, ‘to’ something orderly and expected). In fine: no mind, no chance. 128 Trans. more literally, Zekl preserves Aristotle’s rhetorical gesture: “Alles dies sind ja richtige Aussagen, aus plausiblem Grund” (“Physik” 38, 197a, II.5). See the parallel: “Causes from which chance results may come about are indeterminate; hence chance is inscrutable to human calculation [‘ἄδηλος ἀνθρωπίνῳ λογισμῷ’], and is a cause only accidentally, but in the strictest sense is a cause of nothing” (“Met. 10–14” 93–95, 1065a, XI.viii.11; Tredennick’s version).

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It may seem significative that the Stagirite does not recapitulate the atomistic view here—implying that he does not deem it well-reasoned (‘eulógos’) at all. At any rate, the common belief that týche be ‘unfathomable’ is expressly appreciated as plausible—and probably close to Aristotle’s take. For it will seem virtually inconceivable that an indeterminate quantity of potentially coincidental aspects (“ἄπειρα τὸ πλῆθος”, Phys. 1–4. 152, 197a, II.v) could actually be appraised—in their entirety—by the acknowledged human faculties; let alone anticipated, navigated, even manipulated in each and every possible instance.129 Such also links to the previously stated view that there can be no ‘science’ of chance—considering its always being the exception (“παράλογον”), rather than the rule (“τῶν ἀεὶ”, “τῶν ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ”): this is why we are justified in saying that luck cannot be calculated; for we can calculate only from necessary or normal sequences, and luck acts outside such [‘παρὰ ταῦτα’]. So the indeterminate [‘ἀόριστα’] nature of these incidental lines of causation [‘αἴτια’] makes luck indeterminate [‘ἡ τύχη ἀόριστον’]. (Phys. 1–4. 152–155, 197a, II.v)130

Perchance, a ‘hemin’ might be added to the latter. Týche is ‘aóriston’ to human beings qua such—meaning, from their viewpoint; given their noetic capacities. Withal, strict determinism—the third option besides inscrutability, atomism (here omitted)—is regarded as an appearance (see ‘dóxeien’, above); and precisely since a discernment of chance itself depends on the perspective taken:

|| 129 On the latter, see the methodical subchs. 5.1.1, 5.1.3, 5.2.1, herein. Hardly would it be beyond that speculative animal to credibly conceive of a quantifying deity hypothetically capable of computing all possible accidents (the ‘Laplacian Demon’, say; cf. Blumenberg “‘Säkularisation’” 240; GKW I. 56; 121–122; 128–129; GKW II. 367; 515; GKW III. 647; 747; “Geld” 181; “Universalbibliothek” 29; 32–34; 37; Lesbarkeit 82; 138-139; 144; 162; 224; 376–377; 383–384; 406–408; Lebenszeit 157; 178–179; 247; Begriffe 60; 124; Beschreibung 15; 427–428; 796–797; 831– 832; Sachen 210–211; 246–247; 249; and Fellmann “Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” passim); provided that the starting point (arché) be order, not chaos (a premise Aristotle endorses). In a world governed by sheer contingency, the value of such extreme rationalism will be limited to the area crafted—and still potentially controlled, or partly handled—by man. 130 “Auch die Behauptung, etwas Widervernünftiges sei doch diese Fügung [týche], ist richtig: der vernünftige Schluß bezieht sich auf Dinge, die immer so sind oder doch in der Mehrzahl der Fälle[;] die Fügung dagegen findet statt unter dem, was dem zuwider geschieht; da also so geartete Ursachen unbestimmbar sind, ist auch die Fügung ein Unbestimmbares” (“Physik” 38, 197a, II.5). The grounds for (a semblance of) chance is the “indefinite [‘ἀόριστον’]”—i.e., and so, humanly ungaugeable—“number” of “causes”; the circle implied in this intercalation seems to emerge at the end of that section (Phys. 1–4. 162–163, 198a, II.vi). Sans a (naturally limited) mind susceptible of, or subject to, the impression of chance, the phainómenon it is might not be at all. The philosopher’s rationalistic gauge will presuppose the mind as may have, and so apply, them.

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‘luck’ is the name we give to causes that act incidentally [‘ἔστιν αἴτιον ὡς συμβεβηκὸς ἡ τύχη’]; but in the absolute [‘ἁπλῶς’] sense, without this qualification, luck is not the cause of anything [‘οὐδενός’]. (Phys. 1–4. 152–153, 197a, II.v)131

Qua exceptions to the rule, the Stagirite does not consider coincidences ‘adiáphora’.132 They are valid phainómena, generally and philosophically to be reckoned with, seeing that they (may) yield, or are capable of producing, veritable effects: noticed, expressly acknowledged, in the lifeworld—as evinced by noetico-linguistic flotsam in virtual cultural networks. Throughout, Aristotle’s takes on chance are rhetorical also as to the quale sit of these ‘accompanying causes’ and effects (“τῶν κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς αἰτίων”, Phys. 1–4. 154, 197a, II.v). Their articulation, (communal) plausibility, is relative to a given context. This includes preconceptions on the part of the respective recipients. Considerations of degree come into play; a speaker’s views determine what may count as opportune: “we shall be dealing with people on the basis of their own opinions [‘ἐκ τῶν οἰκείων δογμάτων’]” (“Top.” 277, 101a, I.ii).133 Conditions and angles change—as do fortunes: they are “unstable; for so [sc. ‘ἀβέβαιος’] is all luck, inasmuch as nothing that is constant or normal can be attributed” to chance (“οὔτε γὰρ ἀεὶ οὔθ’ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ οἵόν τ’ εἶναι τῶν ἀπὸ τύχης οὐθέν”, Phys. 1–4. 154–155, 197a, II.v).134 To register, a certain leeway of contingency—qua scope for being else, or not at all—will be needful, potentially.

|| 131 Zekl has: “eine als Nebenwirkung auftretende Ursache ist ja die Fügung [sc. týche]. Nur, im eigentlichen Sinn ist sie Ursache von nichts” (“Physik” 38, 197a, II.5). Cf. the parallel (“Met. 10– 14” 94–95, 1065a, XI.viii.11). While the context refers to human purposiveness being altered, thwarted, supplemented, this might implicitly reject the atomistic view of chance (qua ultimate source of natural processes)—for which the Stagirite has no patience (given his rationalistic premises). Vogt stresses “dass Aristoteles […] niemals […] einen absoluten Zufall meint” (145). 132 Meaning, as Stoicizing thinkers would later be likely to do. “Aristotle […] does not […] deny validity to the conceptions of Chance and Luck” (Phys. 1–4. 105n.). 133 Cf. “‘incidence’ may be more or less proximate or remote. We speak of [‘λέγεται’] […] ‘good fortune’ [‘εὐτυχία’] or ‘misfortune’ [‘δυστυχία’]”; “if we just miss” something, one also refers to (“λέγει”) it thus; for “by anticipation we regard the good or ill as having been actually present, so close did it seem [‘δοκεῖ’]” (Phys. 1–4. 154–155, 197a, II.v). More literally, Zekl: “weil doch das Denken dies wie etwas Vorhandenes ausspricht. Denn das ‘Beinahe’ scheint gewissermaßen gar keinen Abstand zu bedeuten” (“Physik” 39). Cf. his felicitous rendition: “Von den Ursachen im nebensächlichen Sinn liegen einige nämlich näher als andere” (“Physik” 39). As to moving beyond (linguistic) givens, see Aristotle (“Top.” 338–339, 110a, II.ii); qtd. in subch. 3.7, herein. 134 Hypothetically, it may well seem conceivable that someone might always regard and label all occurrences ‘fortui-felici-tous’, seeing that it is a noetico-linguistic phenomenon to begin with. Yet such a—quasi Stoicizing—mindset would probably come close (or actually amount) to fatalism outright, since the differentia appear to be lost along the way.

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In Aristotle, týche tends to be gauged ex negativo. Yet what counts as usual or predictable is prone to vary, susceptible of otherwiseness.135 Since one is facing a (reliably) negative term—supplying a certain rationalization of something (plainly) unreasonable—the habitual act, or (tacit) choice, of attributing an effect to fortune is itself contingent (upon a mutable notion of ‘normalcy’). Still, kósmos (universally) and phýsis (generally) are steady measures for the Stagirite.136 In the sixth segment of the second book, Aristotle discriminates between týche and the autómaton. This differentiation is based on his theory of causality— offered as the dependable framework or superstructure for chance (passim).137 More properly, their relationship is taken to be one of enclosure: being “the more general term”, “τὸ αὐτόματον”—which “may be translated by ‘of itself’”— “includes” all events “ἀπὸ τύχης” (Phys. 1–4. 156–157, 197a, II.vi; with 156n.).138 Yet not all accidental ones are said to be ‘due to fortune’. In the philosopher’s epistemic context overall, such a tentative distinction will not seem implausible. As far as is assessable, Aristotle’s references to—and differentiation of—autómaton and týche are basically consistent in the ‘Lectures on Nature’.139 In other parts of his extant works, the latter is not always upheld— at least not expressly. Nor are both terms given dependably.

|| 135 While there are humans (spec. such minds), there will inevitably be héxeis, usus, customs; sans the latter, this animal would be incapable of its most basic definiens (zoé as well as bíos). 136 “all natural things are either constant or normal, and this is contrary to the very meaning of luck or chance” (Phys. 1–4. 171, 198b, II.viii). 137 (On the whole, cf. Met. 1–9. 306–307, 1027b, VI.iii.4). See the conclusion to the aforesaid segment (Phys. 1–4. 162–163, 198a, II.vi); also dealt with below. Wicksteed/Cornford log “the necessary antecedence of purposeful to casual causation”, of the “direct” to the “incidental” (Phys. 1–4. 157n.). Generally, “the illimitable is” seen to be “inherent in the limited”, “the indefinable […] in the definable” (Wicksteed/Cornford xx). 138 The parenthetic gloss is Wicksteed’s/Cornford’s (at Phys. 1–4. 156n.). Cf. Zekl’s rendition: “Ihr Unterschied liegt darin, daß ‘Zufall’ sich über einen weiteren Bereich erstreckt. Ereignisse auf Grund von Fügung [sc. apò týches] sind alle auch zufällig; (umgekehrt) diese sind nicht alle auf Grund von Fügung” (“Physik” 39, 197a, II.6). As passim, the term ‘Fügung’ is infelicitous, here. 139 Küpper suggests that, for Aristotle, “automaton denotes everything, for which no specific causa whatsoever is humanly discernible based on the state of knowledge obtaining at the time, i.e. basically all natural processes (this would also be in alignment with the fact that the automaton is treated in the Physics especially). By tyche, he seems to comprehend (only) that which[,] from the total amount of [things] not causally explicable[,] becomes relevant for the human world of action [‘Handlungswelt’][—]more precisely, for a corresponding agent in a respective situation (this aligns with the traditional, mythical meaning of tyche indeed). As regards natural phenomena, such would surely only be a part[:] a stone[’s] falling from a roof is always an instance of automaton; but this is only an instance of tyche, if at the moment when this is happening, a human being is currently standing where [or close to where] the stone is

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Apart from the precarious editorial status of the Stagirite’s œuvre, this may be down to linguistic habits simply—since ‘týche’ will be the everyday, hence more common word. In such cases, Aristotle seems to employ the conventional expression as a rhetorical shorthand for chance sensu lato. That would include the ‘automatic’, ‘spontaneous’—as simply appears ‘by and of itself’.140 Yet there can be no certitude in these matters—due to the state of reception not least. The most one might say is that a certain ‘non-rigorous’ conceptuality remains in play. With respect to the above segment, it would seem as though that which is ‘by and of itself’ or ‘just so’ could be used in place of fortune—the former being a more comprehensive term. On occasion, týche does appear to be employed pars pro toto, standing in for virtually anything typically associated with ‘chance’ in the widest sense.141 Consequently, the relation of part to whole may not always be clear; nor which is which. Again, this need not be due to the philosopher’s own use; but could be attributable to the records extant. Nor are the taxonomies as definite as the systematically minded might prefer. This is not an editorial problem only; but may be down to the phenomenon itself. It does not seem incidental that Aristotle returns to contingency sensu lato time and again: chances, automatisms, accidents, coincidences, (bad) luck—and the like—are treated from different angles, in diverse contexts, with varying accents. By and large, a similar tendency will obtain in all of Aristotle’s attempts at describing these, and related, issues: taking them seriously, desisting from overtaxing their significance. Even so, a measure of ‘defocus’ remains—which will hardly seem inapposite with respect to phenomena of such elusiveness. Returning to the above, it is needful to reaccentuate that (current) linguistic habits remain the Stagirite’s initial, dependable gauge (see “σημεῖον”): “tyche must always be connected with our doings and farings [‘περὶ τὰ πρακτὰ’]” (Phys. 1–4. 156–157, 197b, II.vi)—with the realm of “deliberate choice” (“προαίρεσιν”,

|| coming down (to this extent, ‘not every automaton is also tyche’ indeed). […] In addition to this, there is also the [kind of] tyche [which is] caused by human beings purely[:] the accidental encounter of two human chains of action (the hiding of the treasure / the planting of the tree)” (n. to the ms. of the present study; July 4, 2020; trans. dsm; italics added). See subch. 3.1, herein. 140 Cf. Bubner: “der nackte Selbstlauf [‘spottet’] jeglicher Regel” (Geschichtsprozesse 178; “de[r] ‘automatische[…]’ Selbstlauf”, “[was v]on selbst geschieht”, 37). Generally, he observes: “Die stehende Doppelterminologie von Zufall und Selbstlauf (ἡ τύχη καὶ τὸ αὐτόματον) legt […] die Parallelbehandlung fest. […] für die aristotelische Ontologie, die wie selbstverständlich einem Technemodell folgt, [‘gibt es’] nicht die scharfen Grenzen zwischen dem Natürlichen und […] Praktischen […][.] Teleologie hält beides zusammen” (Geschichtsprozesse 36). 141 These conceptual issues are taken up again in the preliminary précis (subch. 3.5, herein).

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Phys. 1–4. 158–159, 197b, II.vi).142 For (un)fortunate effects to actually register as such, there will have to be some involvement on the part of a human (or divine) causative—capable of acting otherwise, or preferring not to; with this being the conditio sine qua non of an agent proper (ex negativo, “μὴ ἐνδέχεται πρᾶξαι”): neither inanimate things [‘ἄψυχον’] nor brute beasts [‘θηρίον’] nor infants [‘παιδίον’] can ever accomplish anything by tyche […]. But even such things may be brought, as passive agents, under the action of tyche, if a rational agent [‘ὁ πράττων’] does something with them […] by tyche [‘τι περὶ αὐτὰ πράξῃ ἀπὸ τύχης’][.] (Phys. 1–4. 158–159, 197b, II.vi)143

Else, one will tend to speak of (“φαμέν”, “λέγομεν”) the autómaton, when aught (just so) happens as appears to be randomly (in)expedient—particularly if fortuitously (un)serviceable to, hence noted by, humans (see Phys. 1–4. 158, 197b, II.vi).144 For “τύχη is to purposive thought as ταὐτόματον is to the unconscious purposiveness of Nature” (Cornford with Ross, Phys. 1–4. 152n.; plus 154n.). A line of reasoning closes the sections on chance as may amount to a petitio principii: “there can be nothing incidental unless there is something primary for it to be incidental to [‘οὐδὲν δὲ κατὰ συμβεβηκός ἐστι πρότερον τῶν καθ’ αὑτό’]” (Phys. 1–4. 162–163, 198a, II.vi).145 Since the autómaton (including týche) had been posited as ‘accompanying’ (‘katà symbebekós’), it cannot but be secondary.146 || 142 With context: “results that accrue by the action of tyche […] are only spoken of in connexion with beings capable of enjoying good fortune […]—a truth indicated by the common belief that good fortune […] is the same, or much the same, thing as ‘happiness’” (Phys. 1–4. 157, 197b, II.vi; cf. NE 440–441, 1153b, VII.xiii.2–4). Aristotle proceeds from views sedimented in language: “Σημεῖον”, “λέγεται”, “φαμὲν”, “φαίη”, “κατὰ τὸ ὄνομα”, “φαμέν” (Phys. 1–4. 160, 197b, II.vi). 143 Cf. Zekl’s version: “Alles, was nicht handeln kann, kann auch nicht etwas aus Fügung [sc. apò týches] tun […], weil sie alle freien Willen zur Entscheidung […] nicht haben” (“Physik” 39, 197b, II.6). As to intent, forethought (prohaíresis)—ultimately, the perspective taken—qua gauge, see Aristotle’s other samples (e.g. at Met. 1–9. 290–291, 1025a, V.xxx.3–4; 302–303,1027a, VI.ii.8). 144 Infinitizing the Stagirite’s instances (cf. Phys. 1–4. 158–159, 197b, II.vi; also Vogt 120–121; 140n.): an animal might incidentally act as could seem convenient under the circumstances; a material object may simply fall in place—both from a human perspective. Apart from the latter, chance may well appear to have no factuality at all (as far as Aristotle is concerned). 145 “(da nun weiter) nichts Nebensächliches dem an und für sich Geltenden vorgeordnet ist” (“Physik” 41). See the parallel, in Tredennick’s version: “Since nothing accidental is prior to that which is per se, neither are accidental causes prior” (“Met. 10–14” 95, 1065b, XI.viii.12). 146 Cf. “An accident cannot be an accident of an accident unless both are accidents of the same thing” (Met. 1–9. 173, 1007b, IV.iv.23); i.e. something is always presupposed (ultimately, matter). Yet from a certain angle, this may simply be the result of taking a concept—in this case, a prefix (‘syn’ plus ‘bebekós’, from ‘baíno’, else ‘con’ and ‘tangere’, ‘ad’ plus ‘cadere’)—all too literally (Sprachrealismus): “vom Begriff auf die Existenz zu folgern” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 826; infinitized). Generally, see a variant of Schopenhauer’s twelfth “Kunstgriff” (a Sophistico-

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Causality being taken for granted (qua theoretical arché), it always already superstructures whatever appears to go against reason; else to have none; or an inestimable number thereof—the phenomenon at issue being gauged from the negative.147 Aristotle’s rationalism clearly emerges in the ensuing: Chance and fortune […] imply the antecedent activity of mind and Nature as causes; so that, even if the cause of the heavens [‘τοῦ οὐρανοῦ’] were ever so casual, yet mind and Nature must have been causes antecedently, not only of many other things […], but of this universe itself [‘τοῦδε τοῦ παντός’]. (Phys. 1–4. 163, 198a, II.vi)148

The ‘matter’ needful for týche to register (at all) is only mind—specifically a (humanly) limited one, unable to actually compute (its impressions of) infinity. Without a viewpoint wherefrom something appears coincidental or casual, the latter’s manifestations may well have no factuality. Chance depends on a stance and angle contingently taken: the respective perception or experience might as well be otherwise (ultimately causal, say)—or not at all.

|| rhetorical, ‘artful device’)—“eine feine petitio principii: was man erst darthun will, legt man zum voraus ins Wort, in die Benennung, aus welcher es dann durch ein bloß analytisches Urtheil hervorgeht. […] Ein Redner verräth oft schon zum Voraus seine Absicht durch die Namen, die er den Sachen giebt. […] Unter allen Kunstgriffen wird dieser am häufigsten gebraucht, instinktmäßig” (“Eristische” 683–684, §12, [12.Dial.B.4]). Myriad are the cases in point. 147 Formally (while Aristotle would not concur), this may yield a correlation of ‘god’, ‘chance’. 148 Cf. “if chance or spontaneity is the cause of the universe [‘εἰ ἄρα τύχη ἢ τὸ αὐτόματον αἴτιον τοῦ οὑρανοῦ’], mind [‘νοῦς’] and nature [‘φύσις’] are prior causes” (“Met. 10–14” 94–95, 1065b, XI.viii.12). Tredennick adds: “Chance produces indirectly the effects produced directly by mind; […] spontaneity is similarly related to nature. […] the indirect cause presupposes the direct. Th[is] […] is directed against the Atomists” (“Met. 10–14” 94n.–95n.). Noesis cannot go back behind itself: (the act of) cognition, perception will be primary, in the view of a being so capacitated. Cf. Ritter: “Überall, wo der Mensch die Dinge besorgt und herstellt, ist auch immer schon Vernunft im Spiel, denn […] [er] bringt sein Werk nicht wie das Tier ‘von Natur’ hervor und auch nicht so, daß ihm das Werk durch ‘Zufall’ wie ein zufälliger Treffer oder ‘von selbst’ gelingt. Das vom Menschen Geschaffene ist immer ‘Artefakt’” (Metaphysik 83; with Aristotle “Met. 10–14” 128– 129, 1070a, XII.iii; and NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv). In a sense, chance can thus be thought of as ‘manmade’. At any rate, it would be noetically, perspectivally shaped (not to say, ‘determined’).

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3.5 Preliminary Précis The Interplay of Causality, Material, Contingency, Quality ἡ ὕλη ἔσται αἰτία ἡ ἐνδεχομένη παρὰ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ ἄλλως τοῦ συμβεβηκότος. —Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 302, 1027a, VI.ii.11)149 Matters differ[.] —Boh (“Omnipotence” 198)

Before turning to the specific tendency and thrust of the prima philosophia, it may be expedient to provisionally consider the general nexus of contingency, quality, and their grounds in matter (see 4.3). The ensuing seem conceivable: Nature [‘φύσις’], Necessity [‘ἀνάγκη’], and Chance [‘τύχη’], with the addition of Intelligence [‘νοῦς’] and human agency generally [‘πᾶν τὸ δι’ ἀνθρώπου’], exhaust the generally accepted [‘δοκοῦσιν εἶναι’] list of causes [‘αἰτίαι’]. (NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.7)150

The stress falls on their status as received. A shorthand: “Things are generated either by art [‘τέχνῃ’] or by nature [‘φύσει’] or by chance [‘τύχῃ’] or spontaneously [‘τῷ αὐτομάτῳ’]” (“Met. 10–14” 128–129, 1070a, XII.iii.2).151 Besides, týche may be

|| 149 “the cause of the accidental is the matter, which admits of variation from the usual” (Met. 1–9. 303, 1027a, VI.ii.11; plus 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2). Cf. “All things which are generated naturally or artificially have matter; for it is possible for each one of them both to be and not to be [‘δυνατὸν γὰρ καὶ εἶναι καὶ μὴ εἶναι ἕκαστον αὐτῶν’], and this possibility is the matter in each” (Met. 1–9. 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2); “cause in the sense of matter [‘ὕλη’] […] is ‘the possibility of being and not-being [‘τὸ δυνατὸν εἶναι καὶ μὴ εἶναι’]’” (“Coming-to-Be” 306–307, 335a, II.9; cf. 308–309, 335b, II.9); “actuality and potentiality also fall under the causes […]; for the form exists actually if it is separable […]; and the matter exists potentially, for it is this which has the potentiality of becoming both [sc. ‘of acquiring (…) contrary qualities’]” (“Met. 10–14” 137, 1071a, XII.v.2; with 136n.). The root of contingency—a capacity for being else (állos), or not at all (mè einai)—is decisively located in matter. Bröcker stresses: “das Wesentliche der ὕλη ist […], daß sie verschiedene Zustände annehmen kann und dabei sich erhält. […] nach Aristoteles [‘gilt’] ganz allgemein: Alles, was sich ändert, hat ὕλη, Materie” (256–257). Cf. Blumenberg: “das μὴ ὄν κατὰ συμβεβηκός […] [‘bezeichnet’] das Noch-nicht-Gewordene, aber werdemögliche Bestimmbare” (Beiträge 52, 52n.). Dahlke/Laarmann trans. “‘das beiläufig Nichtseiende’” (Beiträge 52). 150 Cf. Rackham: “Aristotle held that these agencies [‘necessity’, ‘nature’, ‘human intelligence and art’], beside their designed results, produced by their interplay certain by-products in the shape of un-designed and irregular occurrences[;] […] in the natural world […][,] τὸ αὐτόματον, or ‘spontaneous’[;] when due to the activity of man[,] […] fortune or chance” (NE 134n.–135n.). The ‘causal inventory’ varies. See Bröcker (259); Ritter: “der Mensch bringt sein Werk nicht wie das Tier ‘von Natur’ hervor” (Metaphysik 83). “Aristoteles unterscheidet, daß etwas ‘durch Zufall’, ‘von selbst’ (αὐτομάτῳ) und ‘durch Kunst’ zustande gebracht wird” (Metaphysik 83n.). 151 (Cf. Met. 1–9. 338–339, 1032a, VII.vii.3–4). See Aristotle’s citation of Agathon’s dictum: “we

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taken qua subclass of the autómaton.152 With phýsis and téchne, this could yield three basic options. Overlaps are perceivable, understood, hinted en passant.153 Such would only seem natural, as chance tends to ‘go along’—interfere—‘with’ almost anything, causing certain indistinguishabilities.154 Likewise, an affinity of || have to do some things by art [‘τέχνῃ’], while others fall to our lot by compulsion [‘ἀνάγκῃ’] or chance [‘τύχῃ’]” (Rhet. 268–269, 1392b, II.xix.13). Cf. the onsets of chs. 4 and 13, herein. 152 (See Phys. 1–4. 156–157, 197a, II.vi). On occasion (as above, NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.7; with 134n.–135n.), týche may also stand pars pro toto—sans express mention of, or differentiation from, the autómaton (the parlance not always being strict). For a similar device in Aquinas, cf. Oesterle’s gloss (105n.). As to the ‘autómaton’, see also Aristotle (“Poetics” 62, 1452a, §10). 153 Cf. “All productions [‘ποιήσεις’] proceed from either art [‘ἀπὸ τέχνης’] or potency [‘ἀπὸ δυνάμεως’] or thought [‘ἀπὸ διανοίας’]. Some of them are also generated spontaneously [‘ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου’] and by chance [‘ἀπὸ τύχης’] in much the same way as things which are naturally [‘ἀπὸ φύσεως’] generated” (Met. 1–9. 338–339, 1032a, VII.vii.3–4; on the latter: Hist. An. IV–VI. 98–99, 539a, V.i, with 98n.; Gen. of Animals 8–9, 715b, I.i; 222–223, 743a, II.vi; 360–361, 762b, III.xi; cf. Ross 77, 77n.). This quasi methodical assimilation or correlation confirms the Stagirite’s basic inclination to reduce the perceived impact of týche. It also leaves open the possibility of chance’s being capacitated to effect products as could appear natural or craftful (as the case may be). These samples might seem suitable in said respect: “some things are generated both artificially and spontaneously [‘καὶ τέχνῃ καὶ ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου’]—e.g. health—and others not; e.g. a house. The reason is that in some cases the matter—[…] the starting point of the process in the production and generation of artificial things, […] in which some part of the result is already existent—is such that it can initiate its own motion, and in other cases it is not” (Met. 1–9. 348– 349, 1034a, VII.ix.1). See the parallel: “Among the products of rational thought [‘ἐν δὲ τοῖς ἀπὸ διανοίας’] some, such as a house or a statue, never owe their existence to spontaneity [‘ἀπὸ τοῦ αὐτομάτου’] or necessity but always to some purpose; others, like health and security, may also be due to chance [‘ἀπὸ τύχης’]” (“Post. An.” 216–217, 95a, II.xi). In Aristotle’s (commonsensical) view, “Art does not deal with things that exist or come into existence of necessity or according to nature, since these have their efficient cause in themselves” (NE 335, 1140a, VI.iv.4). It could be inquired whether the perspectival aspect dominating the phenomenon at issue does not also apply to the excluded cases: a given rock formation might just so happen to be convenient as the archetypical home of certain mammals—whence a house (sensu lato) could also be a product of chance. A human stance, angle, choice, agency are decisive (may be an ‘artful’ additive indeed): the geological causes are natural; but the result’s particular utility is accidental; and so is whether or not (as well as which spec.) use is factually made of the locality; incl. as to the cave’s being encountered at all. Besides, its previous latency and ensuing discovery might be due to external coincidences (such as a volcanic eruption, earthquake, erosion, etc.). See the n. below. 154 Chance’s bent to encroach upon, or trespass into, other areas may partly modify Aristotle’s observation that “the presence of the effect does not necessarily imply that of the whole range of possible causes; it implies some cause, but not every cause” (“Post. An.” 247, 98b, II.xvi). One will be facing a factor of partial, virtual, diverse interrelations—meddling with (else pertaining to) several spheres: “fortune [‘ἡ τύχη’] is the cause [‘αἰτία’] of some things with which the arts [‘αἱ τέχναι’] also are concerned, and also of many which have nothing to do with art [‘ἀτέχνων’], for instance, such as are due to nature [‘ἡ φύσις’] (though it is possible that the results of fortune

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chance and craft might not only be observed, but nurtured on purpose.155 The necessity of positing fors as a separate factor will probably be due to the notion that neither natura nor ars seem able to account for all possibilities of causation; at least as concerns human perception. The incalculability of ‘accompanying’ factors (effects, qualities) would appear to suggest its agency especially: Nor is there any definite cause [‘αἴτιον ὡρισμένον’] for an accident [‘τοῦ συμβεβηκότος’], but only a chance [‘τὸ τυχόν’], i.e. indefinite [‘ἀόριστον’], cause. (Met. 1–9. 290–291, 1025a, V.xxx.3)

When aiming to describe natural processes in their entirety, any seemingly or otherwise groundless occurrences are thus put down to the phenomenon at issue: some starting-point, which does not go back to something else […] will be the starting-point of the fortuitous [‘ἡ τοῦ ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν αὕτη’], and nothing else is the cause of its generation. But to what sort of starting-point [‘ἀρχὴν ποίαν’] and cause [‘ἄιτιον ποῖον’] this process of tracing back [‘ἡ ἀναγωγὴ’] leads, whether to a material [‘ὕλην’] or final [‘τὸ οὗ ἕνεκα’] or moving [‘τὸ κινῆσαν’] cause, is a question for careful consideration. (Met. 1–9. 306–307, 1027b, VI.iii.4)156

The (incidental) omission of the causa formalis marks a tacit exclusion: Aristotle’s concept of ‘eidos’ is not just opposed to, but utterly incompatible with chance.157 || may be contrary to nature [‘ἐνδέχεται δὲ καὶ παρὰ φύσιν εἶναι’])” (Rhet. 56–57, 1362a, I.v.17). Freese glosses: “The results of art and the results due to nature are often assisted (or hindered) by the interference of the irregular operations of fortune or chance. Health may be the result of fortune, as well as of art (a sick man may be cured by a drug taken by chance, one not prescribed by the physician); […] fortune may also produce unnatural monstrosities” (Rhet. 56n.). 155 Cf. spec. “in a sense[,] Art deals with the same objects as chance, as Agathon says: / Chance is beloved of Art, and Art of Chance [‘τέχνη τύχην ἔστερξε καὶ τύχη τέχνην’]” (NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.5; with Bacon Advancement 124, 124n., II). See the n. above; the onsets of chs. 4, 13, herein. 156 The latter is quasi performative, in view of the fact that Aristotle is inquiring into the quale sit (cf. ‘poían’, ‘poion’) of chance’s ‘arché’. He thereby also insinuates the perspectival nature of the (overall) phenomenon under consideration. Referring to the above, Sorabji suggests: “coincidences do not have causes” (Necessity 3; 12; cf. 17–19, 23, 25; “backgrounds” 21)—as such; but “accidents can serve as causes” (Necessity 9; with 11, 24). See spec. ch. 7, herein. 157 Aristotle’s basic premises in this respect: “form and matter […] must always pre-exist”; the first “potentially” (Met. 1–9. 353, 1034b, VII.ix.7–8), the second factually (Phys. 1–4. 94–95, 192a, I.ix); cf. subch. 3.2, herein. While hýle is susceptible of relative, though not absolute contingency (see Met. 1–9. 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2; and 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11, as cited above), the eidos as such is beyond either. Cf. the detailed description: “Of things which are generated, some are generated naturally [‘φύσει’], others artificially [‘τέχνῃ’], and others spontaneously [‘ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου’]; but everything which is generated is generated by something [sc. causa efficiens] and from something [sc. materialis] and becomes something [implying finalis]”—the latter “in

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Since he premises the eternity, indestructibility of ultimate ‘stuff’—at, and as, the most basic level—the above query is answered in terms of hýle’s contingency: the cause [‘αἰτία’] of the accidental [‘τοῦ συμβεβηκότος’] is the matter [‘ἡ ὕλη’], which admits of variation from the usual [‘ἡ ἐνδεχομένη παρὰ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ ἄλλως’]. (Met. 1– 9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11)158

|| any of the categories”, incl. “quality [‘ποιὸν’]” (Met. 1–9. 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.1; plus the parallel at 344–345, 1033a, VII.viii.1). Yet “the form [‘τὸ εἶδος’] (or whatever we should call the shape in the sensible thing [‘ἐν τῷ αἰσθητῷ μορφήν’]) is not generated—generation does not apply to it—nor is the essence generated; for this is that which is induced in something else either by art or by nature or by potency” (Met. 1–9. 344–345, 1033b, VII.viii.3). The implication being: the eidos neither is, nor could be, by chance (cf. also Met. 1–9. 338–341, 1032b, VII.vii.6–8; 350– 351, 1034a, VII.ix.3)—although the latter is a generative cause; but (to Aristotle’s mind) never of anything eternal (Heavens 124–127, 283a–b, I.xii). See subch. 3.2, herein. Since “the thing in the sense of form or essence is not generated” (Met. 1–9. 347, 1033b, VII.viii.5; with 412–413, 1043b, VIII.iii.5; 418–419, 1044b, VIII.v.1), “the cause which consists of the [sc. Platonic] Forms […], in respect at least of generation and destruction, is useless” (Met. 1–9. 347, 1033b, VII.viii.7; with “Coming-to-Be” 308–311, 335b, II.9): “no one generates or creates the form [‘τὸ εἶδος οὐθεὶς ποιεῖ οὐδὲ γεννᾷ’]” as such (Met. 1–9. 412–413, 1043b, VIII.iii.5). The resp. agency (nature or man) is seen to adduce or affix the eidos quasi holistically (see also Met. 1–9. 350–351, 1034a–b, VII.ix.5): “the thing which generates [sc. the causa efficiens] is sufficient to produce, and to be the cause of the form in the matter. […] the form is indivisible [‘ἄτομον’]” (Met. 1–9. 349, 1034a, VII.viii.9). As such, “the form is not generated [‘τὸ μὴ γίγνεσθαι τὸ εἶδος’]”—nor is “quality” or “the other categories”; instead, it is (say) “the wood of that quality”, which is “generated”; and “a quality […] need not pre-exist otherwise than potentially [‘δυνάμει’]” (Met. 1–9. 352–353, 1034b, VII.ix.6– 8). The mind (qua causa efficiens) effects or ascribes them (as to the latter, see Met. 1–9. 306– 309, 1027b, VI.iv.2–3; also cited below). Per se, the eidos would be sans materiality (cf. Met. 1–9. 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2; 421, 1044b, VIII.v.2). In fact and deed, form may only exist in matter— since the latter is both always already; and the ‘embodiment’ of a most basic actuality. Hýle has but a relative potentiality (cf. Met. 1–9. 463, 1050b, IX.viii.15 and 17), in terms of variation (see above); hence also with respect to the eidos—which it may reach, or not (Met. 1–9. 459, 1050a, IX.viii.10). The form is not responsible for its possible non-attainment. In and of itself, the eidos is kathólou—indestructible; beyond chance; not affected by whether or not it is actualized. In a sense, it is ‘reality-proof’ (if one may say so). As to the (non)relation between eidos and týche, Küpper comments: the “‘causa formalis’ […] always implies a regularity (precisely that of the form)” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; Dec 4, 2019; trans. dsm). “Form […] exercises its causality by perfecting that in which it resides” (Wippel on Aquinas at 222). 158 Cf. “All things which are generated naturally or artificially have matter; for it is possible for each one of them both to be and not to be [‘δυνατὸν γὰρ καὶ εἶναι καὶ μὴ εἶναι ἕκαστον αὐτῶν’], and this possibility is the matter in each” (Met. 1–9. 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2). Moreover, “matter [‘ἡ ὕλη’] exists potentially [‘δυνάμει’], because it may attain to the form [‘τὸ εἶδος’]; but when it exists actually [‘ἐνεργείᾳ’], it is then in the form [‘ἐν τὸ εἴδει’]” (Met. 1–9. 459, 1050a, IX.viii.10). It is a case of relativity: “nothing which is absolutely imperishable is absolutely potential (although there is no reason why it should not be potential in some particular respect; e.g. of

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This nucleic statement condenses Aristotle’s principal assumptions concerning the material grounds for the elseness of quality (naturally, artificially).159 Hýle is

|| quality or place); therefore all imperishable things are actual” (Met. 1–9. 463, 1050b, IX.viii.17— modifying 461, 1050b, IX.viii.15). Cf. and contrast Boethius (“On Interpret. 9” 178, §238.7–23; with Kretzmann “Nos Ipsi” 31–32); though the problem may inhere in the trans. As to “substance in the sense of form”, Aristotle logs that it “does not admit of variation in degree” (Met. 1–9. 415, 1044a, VIII.iii.12), since “the thing in the sense of form or essence is not generated” (Met. 1–9. 347, 1033b, VII.viii.5; plus 412–413, 1043b, VIII.iii.5; 418–419, 1044b, VIII.v.1). See his resp. clarifications: “by ‘form’ I mean the essence of each thing [‘εἶδος δὲ λέγω τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι ἑκάστου’] and its primary substance [‘τὴν πρώτην οὐσίαν’]” (Met. 1–9. 338–339, 1032b, VII.vii.4; cf. 416– 417, 1044a, VIII.iv.5). “By substance without matter I mean the essence [‘λέγω δὲ οὐσίαν ἄνευ ὕλης τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι’]” (Met. 1–9. 340–341, 1032b, VII.vii.6). For “such things as, without undergoing a process of change, both are and are not, have no matter” (Met. 1–9. 421, 1044b, VIII.v.2); “let that which indicates the essence [‘τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι’] be called a ‘definition [‘ὅρος’]’” (“Top.” 278–279, 101b, I.iv; with 280–281, 101b–102a, I.v). Cf. the above n. on the causa formalis. 159 As to (the category of) quality, see Aristotle (“Cat.” 16–19, 1b, IV; 62–79, 8b–11b, VIII–IX). He lists “four kinds […] strictly so called [‘λεγόμενοι’]” (“Cat.” 72–73, 10a, VIII). As implied in the latter, the concept is a noetico-linguistic phenomenon explicitly: “By ‘quality’ I mean that in virtue of which men are called such and such. The word ‘quality’ [‘ἡ ποιότης’] has many senses. Let habits [‘ἕξις’] and dispositions [‘διάθεσις’] here constitute one kind of quality. The former are […] more lasting and stable. Comprised among […] ‘habits’ are virtues [‘ἀρεταί’] and all kinds of knowledge [‘ἐπιστῆμαι’]. For knowledge is considered as lasting and hard to displace from the mind” (“Cat.” 62–63, 8b, VIII). He précises: “Habits are also dispositions; dispositions are not always habits” (“Cat.” 65, 9a, VIII). Secondly, “quality” signifies “any natural capacity [‘δύναμιν φυσικὴν’], and innate incapacity” (“Cat.” 64–65, 9a, VIII). Thirdly, there are “passive qualities [‘παθητικαὶ ποιότητες’] […] affections [‘πάθη’]. Examples are sweetness […] bitterness, sourness […] coldness […] warmth […] whiteness […] blackness and so on. It is evident [‘φανερόν’] all these are qualities, seeing that the things that possess them are in consequence called [‘λέγεται’] such and such” (“Cat.” 66–67, 9a, VIII; with Met. 1–9. 258–261, 1020a–b, V.xiv.1–5; also cited below). As above, general parlance serves as a hypoleptic touchstone; and Aristotle’s argument itself is rhetorical. “Of quality the fourth kind consists of the forms [‘μορφή’] and the figures [‘σχῆμά’] of things; […] crookedness, straightness and all other qualities like them. […] In virtue […] of its figure or shape [‘κατὰ τὴν μορφὴν’] is each thing qualified [‘ποιόν τι λέγεται’]” (“Cat.” 70–71, 10a, VIII). Again, the accent falls on linguistic conventions floating in the (virtual) networks pertaining to, constituting, the resp. culture(s). An example offered elsewhere—“not the quality […] is generated, but the wood of that quality [‘τὸ ποιὸν ξύλον’]” (Met. 1–9. 352–353, 1034b, VII.ix.5)—may imply that the third and fourth kinds are likely to be relevant concomitantly (e.g. the timber’s natural and artificial ‘makes’). After this fourfold quantification, Aristotle proceeds to apply the concept to itself (so to say). Usually—“not in all cases”—“Qualities admit contrariety [‘ἐναντιότης’]” (“Cat.” 74–75, 10b, VIII), “degrees” (“Ἐπιδέχεται δὲ τὸ μᾶλλον καὶ τὸ ἧττον τὰ ποιά”, “Cat.” 74–75, 10b, VIII; cf. 77, 11a, VIII: “Not all”). It is “distinctive” of ‘whatness’ that “we predicate ‘like’ and ‘unlike’ with a reference to quality only. For one thing is like to another in respect of some quality only [‘ὅμοιον γὰρ ἕτερον ἑτέρῳ οὐκ ἔστι κατ’ ἄλλο οὐδὲν ἢ καθ’ ὃ ποιόν ἐστιν’]” (“Cat.” 76–77, 11a, VIII; for the nexus of causality and likeness: Rhet. 42–43, 1360a,

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eternal per se; its forms and makes, appearances or aspects, will vary; and are susceptible of alteration. Matter must be; but it may be otherwise(d). In the Stagirite’s systematics, this capacity for being else tends to be framed in terms of potentiality. The corresponding Greek phrases are (for instance): ‘endéchetai állos échein’, ‘dynatòn einai kaì mé’.160 With respect to ““chance [‘τὸ ὁποτέρως ἔτυχε’]”, Aristotle consequently speaks of “the possibility of a thing’s either happening or not [‘τὸ ἐνδέχεσθαι καὶ γίγνεσθαι καὶ μή’]” (“Met. 10–14” 92–93, 1065a, XI.viii.7).161 The same notional nexus applies to “the accidental [‘τὸ κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]”, seeing that it is “indeterminate” (“Met. 10–14” 92–93, 1065b, XI.viii.9). For the latter (“τὸ ἀόριστόν”) is also said to be “that which exists potentially [‘τὸ (…) δυνάμει ὂν’] but not actually [‘μὴ ἐντελεχείᾳ’]”—in the full and final sense (Met. 1–9. 174–175, 1007b, IV.iv.28; with 188–189, 1010a, IV.v.16).162 To Aristotle’s mind, chance is a sort of side effect; wherefore it cannot be the focus of the prima philosophia.163 || I.iv.9). Besides, Aristotle concedes a (partial) overlay with other categories: in quality, “we include […] also a good many relative terms”, such as “habits and dispositions” (“Cat.” 77, 11a, VIII). Above all, the resp. activity is a valuative one: “Quality refers especially to ‘good’ and ‘bad’ in the case of living things, and of these especially in the case of such as possess choice” (Met. 1–9. 261, 1020b, V.xiv.5). Consequently (and on the whole), the Stagirite’s resp. considerations are central to the third status. Concerning the nexus of contingency and rhetorical quality—by recourse to Aristotle and Quintilian—see the discussion in subch. 4.3, herein. 160 “ἄλλως ἔχειν” (e.g. at Heavens 96 and 98, 279b, I.x); “δυνατὸν εἶναι καὶ μή” (Heavens 116, 282a, I.xii; with variant formulations at 110, 281a, and 114, 281b, I.xii). (Sublunar) kínesis is particularly indicative of contingency: “if a thing is moved, it can be otherwise than it is [‘ἐνδέχεται καὶ ἄλλως ἔχειν’]” (“Met. 10–14” 146–147, 1072b, XII.vii.5). More generally: “that which has a potentiality may not actualize it [‘ἐνδέχεται (…) τὸ δύναμιν ἔχον μὴ ἐνεργεῖν’]. […] that which exists potentially may not exist [‘ἐνδέχεται (…) τὸ δυνάμει ὂν μὴ εἶναι’]” (“Met. 10– 14” 140–141, 1071b, XII.vi.2 and 4). See also Frede (70n.); Bubner: “Zufälle liegen im Bereich dessen, was auch anders sein kann (ἐνδέχεται ἄλλως ἔχειν)” (Geschichtsprozesse 38). 161 Frede gives “hopoter’ etuchen” as “the case where the chances are not greater one way or the other”; “apo tuchēs” as “what happens by chance […] or rarely” (66). Cf. Ackrill’s rendition: “what is as chance has it is no more thus than not thus” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 50, at 18b9, §9). 162 (On the latter, see Met. 1–9. 438–439, 1047a, IX.iii.9; 458–459, 1050a, IX.viii.11). Cf. Frede (83), who observes: “When Aristotle discusses the notion of dunamis and energeia, […] it is clear that the world is full of unrealized possibilities at any moment” (61n.). This does not convert into Mignucci’s implausible claim: “While the past and the present are fixed, there are many possible different future histories of the world, each of which shares the same past” (67). To say nothing of other considerations (to be treated in subchs. 4.1 and 4.2, herein), the implied discounting of feedback effects (cf. “same”) must seem unreasonable even ‘logically’. Generally, see Normore: “One might wonder whether the claim that the past is fixed or necessary is consistent with the claim that there are ‘backtracking’ connections between it and the future” (“Divine” 20n.). 163 In an eristic context: “it is only the realm of sense around us which continues [to be] subject

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Before ‘writing off’ (“ἀφείσθω”) “the accidental sense of ‘being’” in accord with said assumption (Met. 1–9. 306–307, 1027b, VI.iv.1; see “ἀφετέον”, 308, 1027b, VI.iv.3; 1028a, IV.iv.4), it is paired with the noetic capacity for qualifying: ‘falsity’ and ‘truth’ are not in things—[…] but in thought [‘ἐν διανοίᾳ’]; […] combination and separation exists in thought and not in things [‘οὐκ ἐν τοῖς πράγμασι’] […][;] thought attaches or detaches essence [‘τὸ τί ἐστιν’] or quality [‘ποιὸν’] or quantity [‘ποσὸν’] or some other category[.] (Met. 1–9. 306–309, 1027b, VI.iv.2–3)164

In different—incidentally Shakespearean—words: “there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so” (Ham [2nd] 250, II.ii.249–250).165 Or else Rorty’s: “anything could be made to look good or bad, important or unimportant, useful or useless, by being redescribed” (Contingency 7; with 39).166 Neither the aforesaid ability—called “an affection of thought [‘τῆς διανοίας τι πάθος’]”—nor (see “ἀμφότερα”) the “indeterminate” symbebekós point beyond themselves, to another ‘nature’ (“οὐκ ἔξω δηλοῦσιν οὖσάν τινα φύσιν τοῦ ὄντος”): not to that of “Being itself qua Being [‘τοῦ ὄντος αὐτοῦ’]” (Met. 1–9. 308– 309, 1028a, VI.iv.4).167 Since the latter is his focus here, Aristotle sets aside the former. In so doing, he effectually inverts the Sophistic habit: In general[,] those who talk like this do away with substance and essence [‘οὐσίαν καὶ τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι’][;] for they are compelled to assert […] that all things are accidental [‘πάντα κατὰ συμβεβηκός’][.] (Met. 1–9. 170–171, 1007a, IV.iv.20 and 22)168

|| to destruction and generation, but this is a practically negligible part of the whole” (Met. 1–9. 191, 1010a, IV.v.22). Cf. Blumenberg (Beiträge 125); Oesterle: “In the Metaphysics, […] Aristotle treats accidental being only in order to exclude it (except as to what it is in general) from the subject of science” (13). Ross: “Accidental being […] cannot be studied at all. […] The accidental, the exception to law, may have a law of its own. […] If this law is discovered, the apparent accident is found to be no accident, so that still there is no knowledge of the accidental” (164). 164 (Cf. Met. 1–9. 352–353, 1034b, VII.ix.6–8, as cited above). Apart from being quasi proto-Stoic in its basic tendency, the above passage is also pivotal in rhetorical respects; and spec. as to determining a case’s status. Generally, see Trimpi (Muses 263–264); as well as subch. 4.3, herein. 165 Cf. Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 261, 1020b, V.xiv.5, as qtd. above). As to hypólepsis, the Stratfordian’s (most) proximate recourse is likely to be Montaigne’s ch. “Que le goût des biens et des maux dépend en bonne partie de l’opinion, que nous en avons” (Essais I. 177–202, I.xiv; here: 177; Naya et al. qualify the drift as “[c]onformément à une idée fondamentale du stoïcisme”, 602n.). 166 On paradiastolé, see subch. 8.3.2, herein. 167 (See Met. 1–9. 298–299, 1026a, VI.i.12; 312–313, 1028b, VII.i.7). On “‘Quality’ [‘(τὸ) ποιὸν’]”— its nexus with “affections” (§3)—cf. Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 258–261, 1020a–b, V.xiv.1–5). “Πάθος” is given as “a quality in virtue of which alteration is possible [‘τρόπον ποιότης καθ’ ἣν ἀλλοιοῦσθαι ἐνδέχεται’]”—resp. “[t]he actualizations of these qualities” (Met. 1–9. 272–273, 1022b, V.xxi). 168 In said context, Aristotle is speaking of Sophists à la Protagoras and consorts (see e.g. Met.

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Just as any ‘veritable’ ontology must presuppose the conceivability of absolute decontextualization (notably timelessness), a perspectival art cannot but assert its own—and fundamentally opposed—conditions of possibility.169 For “we never perceive a thing apart from the qualities that it has, nor qualities apart from the thing that has them” (Wicksteed/Cornford liv). Precisely this (apparent) ‘having’ may be manipulated—by an effectual use of language. A chance event is such to someone: it depends on the stance taken. Yet viewpoints are accidental(s), as well.170 Rhetoric is based on, reckons with, exploits contingency—and that of perspective, above all.171

3.6 Arts of the Accidental Metaphysics VI.ii.1–13 (1026a–1027a) εἰσὶ […] οἱ τῶν σοφιστῶν λόγοι περὶ τὸ συμβεβηκὸς ὡς εἰπεῖν μάλιστα πάντων[.] —Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 298, 1026b, VI.ii.4)172

|| 1–9. 173, 1007b, IV.iv.27, and 181, 1009a, IV.v.1; also 437, IX.iii.44). Cf. “all these theories destroy the possibility of anything’s existing by necessity, inasmuch as they destroy the existence of its essence” (Met. 1–9. 193, 1010b, IV.v.28). Conversely: “We consider that we have unqualified [‘ἁπλῶς’] knowledge of anything (as contrasted with the accidental knowledge of the sophist [‘ἀλλὰ μὴ τὸν σοφιστικὸν τρόπον τὸν κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]) when we believe that we know (i) that the cause from which the fact results is the cause of that fact, and (ii) that the fact cannot be otherwise [‘μὴ ἐνδέχεσθαι τοῦτ’ ἄλλως ἔχειν’]” (“Post. An.” 28–29, 71b, I.ii; cf. 30–31, 71b, I.ii; and 42–43, 73a, I.iv). Tredennick glosses: “The sophist’s knowledge is called ‘accidental’ because, not knowing the species as such, but only as qualified by accidental attributes, he has no conception of what is essential to it” (“Post. An.” 28n.). Generally, the terms ‘haplos’ and ‘katà symbebekós’ will be mutually exclusive (“Post. An.” 120–121, 83a, I.xii). 169 Rorty mentions “Nietzsche’s charge that the philosophical tradition which stems from Plato is an attempt to avoid facing up to contingency, to escape from time and chance” (relativism 32). Cf. also Blumenberg’s remarks, as cited in subch. 10.3.2, herein. 170 In line with Aristotle’s architectural example, one may signal the nexus of “infinite” accidentals and qualities: an edifice might be (perceived as being) “agreeable to some, injurious to others, and beneficial to [yet] others” (Met. 1–9. 299, 1026b, VI.ii.2); plus virtually any conceivable value judgment or experience else. 171 Based on its most fundamental ground swell—an oratorical approach would (and probably, could) hardly deem utter determinism plausible, even were it to argue for it tentatively (sc. in utramque partem). This might be the only expedient criterion whereby to measure that notoriously elusive Sophist. Total necessity can only befall, or occur to, habitually decontextualized minds governed by the tyranny of logic. See subchs. 3.7 and 4.2, herein. 172 “the sophists discuss the accident more, perhaps, than any other people” (Met. 1–9. 299, 1026b, VI.ii.4). Cf. “the accidental knowledge of the sophist [‘τὸν σοφιστικὸν τρόπον τὸν κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]” (“Post. An.” 28, 71b, I.ii; infinitized). See Trimpi (Muses 262n.; “Quality” 18n.).

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With respect to chance, the Stagirite may be seen as verging on a performative contradiction. For he treats this phenomenon quasi systematically, methodically, while expressly and repeatedly negating that such be possible.173 In the prima philosophia, the second segment of the sixth book happens to be especially concerned with the denial in question: it must first be said of what ‘is’ accidentally, that there can be no speculation [‘θεωρία’] about it. This is shown by the fact that no science [‘ἐπιστήμῃ’], whether practical [‘πρακτικῇ’], productive [‘ποιητικῇ’][,] or speculative [‘θεωρητικῇ’], concerns itself with it. (Met. 1–9. 298–299, VI.ii.1)

As a matter of course, the argument from a respective status quo is indicative, not conclusive—experience being open-ended, while humankind exists. Besides, the philosopher assuredly considers his overall project or method ‘scientific’ (as per Ancient acceptations); and does deal with various phenomena usually referred to as—or conceivably, more generally attributable to—fortune sensu lato. One might illustrate the Aristotelian stance by varying a notorious dictum (traditionally attributed to Bias): ‘of chance, say that it exists’.174 At any rate, its diligent description forms part of the Aristotelian ‘theoría’ and ‘epistéme’; as

|| 173 “There can be no demonstrative knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμη δι’ ἀποδείξεως’] of the fortuitous. What happens by chance is neither a necessary nor a usual event […]. Hence if the fortuitous [‘τὸ ἀπὸ τύχης’] is neither usual nor necessary, there can be no demonstration of it” (“Post. An.” 156– 157, 87b, I.xxx). “There is no scientific knowledge [‘Ἐπιστήμη’] or demonstrative syllogism of indeterminate [‘τῶν μὲν ἀορίστων’] propositions, because the middle term [sc. the ‘proximate cause’] is not established [‘ἄτακτον’]” (“Prior An.” 258–259, 32b, I.xiii; with Tredennick’s gloss at 258n.; and Oesterle 9); “the particular is infinite and cannot be the subject of a […] science [‘τὸ δὲ καθ’ ἕκαστον ἄπειρον καὶ οὐκ ἐπιστητόν’]” (Rhet. 22–23, 1356b, I.ii.11). “It is possible to consider the effect and its subject in an accidental relation, but such connexions are not regarded as ‘problems’” (“Post. An.” 249, 99a, II.xvii). Tredennick glosses: “Because a ‘problem’ is a scientific proposition, and accidents lie outside the sphere of scientific knowledge” (“Post. An.” 248n.). “A purely accidental attribute would be outside the scope of science” (“Post. An.” 177n.). The assertion is repeated in the resp. literature quasi by rote. Cf. e.g. “the purely contingent is outside the proper range of logical science” (Tredennick “Intro. [Prior An.]” 191): “there can be no science of the contingent” (Oesterle 9; 13); “a science […] cannot extend to what is purely accidental” (13). Likewise Frede (67); Sharples (5). Somewhat more nuancedly, Bubner: “Was aber so und gleichermaßen auch anders sein kann, ist nicht wirklich theoriefähig” (Geschichtsprozesse 38). “Was stets auch anders sein kann, bildet einfach deshalb kein Thema, weil es sich unserem Wissen entzieht” (Geschichtsprozesse 40). See also Striker’s take (146 with 163); as well as the n. and loci cited below. 174 Here mutatis mutandis: “περὶ θεῶν λέγε, ὡς εἰσίν”. “Admit the existence of the gods” (D. Laertius Lives I. 90–91, I.88). “Von den Göttern behaupte ihr Dasein” (Leben I. 45, I.88). Cf. Aristotle: “πρὸς ἅ φασιν τἄλογα” (“Poetics” 134, 1461b, §25).

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opposed to that of thinkers rejecting týche (and such) out of hand—treating it to silence, respectively with indifference or contempt. Their lack of curiosity (so to say) may be implied in the initial adversative pertaining to the Stagirite’s ensuing remark on his explicatory venture and télos: Nevertheless [‘ἀλλ(ὰ)’] we must state […], so far as […] possible [‘ἐνδέχεται’], with regard to the accidental, what its nature [‘φύσις’] is and through what cause [‘διὰ τίν’ αἰτίαν’] it exists. At the same time it will doubtless also appear why there is no science [‘ἐπιστήμη’] of it. (Met. 1–9. 300–301, 1026b, VI.ii.5)

Whether factual or virtual, a (collectively) recognized phenomenon—something supposed by what is considered a significant quantity in a given context—does deserve a proximate description: such being the Aristotelian héxis dependably. In a sense, this scholarly, receptive mode aligns with the rhetorico-Sophistic view of poíesis or production: ‘being’ signifies precisely anything whereof one may convince others that it ‘is’—whether they already accept it; or could be brought to believe so.175 Then again, what the community has faith in—knows, is persuaded of (and by)—habitually forms Aristotle’s arché; wherefrom he will proceed inductively, toward a more ‘philosophical’, kathólou estimate (see 5.2.1). Consequently, the stress falls on the ensuing verb: “we call [‘φαμεν’] it an accident” (Met. 1–9. 300–301, 1026b, VI.ii.7); “we say [‘φαμέν’], it was accidental” (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.8).176 The philosopher further accentuates the phenomenon’s nominal nature: “‘accident’ is only, as it were, a sort of name [‘ὄνομά τι μόνον τὸ συμβεβηκός ἐστιν’]” (Met. 1–9. 298–299, 1026b, VI.ii.3).177 Naturally, words—pertaining to a given lifeworld, floating in ‘virtual cultural networks’—are phainómena also; have a communal existence, so to say.178 Hence || 175 Sans his slant, see Plato’s otherwise descriptive term “opinion-imitator [‘δοξομιμητὴν’]” (“Sophist” 456–457, 267E). Aristotle’s instance could be used against itself: “It is accidental for a man to be white […], but […] not […] to be an animal [‘ζῷον’]” (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1026, VI.ii.7). To say nothing of theology proper, the cultural or religious circumstances could be such that a certain community (perchance, also later generations) may be(come) convinced of their divinity to such an extent as could—to their mind—render man’s animality accidental indeed. One might observe that the Stagirite does allow this case (generally, cf. Met. 1–9. 167, 1006b, IV.iv.12); albeit as an exception: “a man who is incapable of entering into partnership, or who is so self-sufficing [‘αὐτάρκειαν’] that he has no need to do so, is no part of a state, so that he must be either a[n] […] animal or a god [‘ἢ θηρίον ἢ θεός’]” (Pol. 11–13, 1253a, I.i.12). See chs. 7 and 13, herein. 176 Cf. “we call [‘λέγομεν’] it an accident” (Met. 1–9. 288–289, V.xxx.2). 177 (Plus the implications at “Top.” 290–291, 103a, I.vii). In terms of its basic (discursive) bent, this remark is not all that far from the general thrust of Medieval and Early Modern Nominalism. 178 On the resp. concept, see Küpper (Cultural Net passim); plus subchs. 3.2, 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 5.2.3, 6.6, 10.2, 11.3.4, 13.3.1, 13.5; for applications, ch. 7 (spec. 7.1.1, 7.1.2, 7.2, 7.3); and passim, herein.

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a sober approach will take them into account—descriptively, hermeneutically. In poetic respects, there is a téchne as not only reckons with chance, but also handles (or manipulates) such impressions, articulated assumptions indeed: in a way[,] Plato was not far wrong in making sophistry deal with what is non-existent [‘διὸ Πλάτων τρόπον τινὰ οὐ κακῶς τὴν σοφιστικὴν περὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν ἔταξεν’]; because the sophists discuss the accident more, perhaps, than any other people [‘εἰσὶ (…) οἱ τῶν σοφιστῶν λόγοι περὶ τὸ συμβεβηκὸς ὡς εἰπεῖν μάλιστα πάντων’][.] (Met. 1–9. 298–299, 1026b, VI.ii.3–4)179

Concurring to some extent, Aristotle logs the phenomenon’s virtuality: “Indeed it seems [‘φαίνεται’] that the accidental [‘τὸ συμβεβηκὸς’] is something closely akin to [‘ἐγγύς τι’] the non-existent [‘τοῦ μὴ ὄντος’]” (Met. 1–9. 300–301, 1226b, VI.ii.4).180 Temporalized, but sans the—probably decisive—qualification(s), the latter will reappear in one of theses condemned by Tempier in 1277: “futura contingentia sunt non entia” (92, §42[15]; see also 122, §141[197]).181 The semblance of chance gives an impression of being linguistically induced. It is spoken of, hence does have some sort of ‘being’: a conceivable, intelligible— perhaps not a ‘tangible’—one. Even so, its (advantageous, untoward) impacts are insinuated, articulated, anticipated, effectually experienced—whether noetically only; or in physical consequences attributed to týche (sensu lato). Ultimately, everything may well be reasonably causal, and the casual might have no fundamentum in re; but it surely does have such in mente et lingua (so to say). Considering Aristotle’s usual héxis, it would therefore deserve an ‘epistemic’ treatment, were such possible. In a thematic parallel (see “Met. 10–14” 88n.), the philosopher denies the latter—albeit with an (ostensive) qualification: none of the traditional sciences [‘τῶν παραδεδομένων ἐπιστημῶν’] concerns itself [‘πραγματεύεται’] with the accidental [‘περὶ τὸ συμβεβηκός’] […]—none of the recognized sciences [‘τῶν ὁμολογουμένως οὐσῶν ἐπιστημῶν’] considers [‘ζητεῖ’] this, except sophistry

|| 179 (Plus 298n.). Cf. Plato (“Sophist” 402–403, 254A); Trimpi (Muses 262n.; “Quality” 18n.); Bonitz’/Seidl’s expedient version: “die Erörterungen der Sophisten gehen vorzugsweise auf das Akzidentelle” (Metaphysik 127, 1026, VI.2). The parallel in a later book—“none of the recognized sciences considers this [sc. the accidental], except sophistry” (“Met. 10–14” 91, 1064b, XI.viii.3, referring to Plato)—is discussed in what follows above. For a variety of applications, see ch. 13. 180 This rhetorical move seems to form part of what Küpper refers to as a ‘domestication’ of chance or contingency (“Ordnung” 217; trans. dsm; cf. Kablitz “Selbstinszenierung” 551n.; also Vogt 29, 35, 106, 128, 131, 186n., 346, 508, 536, 579–590, 597, 652, 655). 181 “les futurs contingents ne sont pas des étants” (93; cf. “Collectio errorum” 293, VI.14[42]). Aquinas retains the Stagirite’s degreefulness: “What is accidental […] is more like nonbeing, as Plato also held” (114, XIV.11, after 19a12). See spec. ch. 4.4, herein.

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[‘σοφιστική’]. […] But […] it is not even possible [‘οὐδ’ ἐνδεχόμενόν’] for there to be a science of the accidental[.] (“Met. 10–14” 88–91, 1064b, XI.viii.1, 3)

If approached with a certain innocence (not to say unsophistication), this assertion—which is not an isolated occurrence—cannot but seem curious.182 Perchance, the exemption at issue is not actually an ‘epistéme’, although widely considered to be so (‘paradedoménon’, ‘homologouménos’). Mayhap, its handling of the symbebekós could never appear ‘scientific’—by philosophical standards.183 Then again, Aristotle is not only tackling the accidental (and at some length), but also the Sophistic.184 The latter seems to hold a status as ‘exceptional’ to the rule as the former. Nor are these the sole affinities. Proceeding from the Stagirite’s observations, the least one will have to concede is that it does seem ‘possible’ to convey the impression of there virtually being a ‘science of chance’—for some, if not most, intents and purposes. Needless to say, such may well be taken or seen to suffice in certain quarters; and particularly the one at hand. The problems only deepen in view of the fact that Aristotle has practically adopted one of his teacher’s most distinct ideas, applying it to the phenomenon at issue. Were ‘týche’ but a name, with merely virtual, nominal existence (hence ‘almost none at all’), a determined approach to this—nevertheless significant, even viral—‘something’ could hardly be reprimanded for trying (or failing). Else Aristotle’s project might seem (just as) suspect. For he does address chance repeatedly, from various angles, in diverse settings. The textual space covered, hence the labor expended, will suggest—if not the dignity, then certainly—the weight and consequence of the phenomenon in question.

|| 182 (Cf. e.g. “Eudemian” 460–461, 1247b, VIII.ii.11; with affinities: Phys. 1–4. 152–154, 197a, II.v). 183 See Guthrie’s expedient gloss in another instance, pointing to a spec. Platonic usage (Heavens 135n.; plus “ὁμολογουμένους λόγους”—negated, or applicable in part only: “Timaeus” 52, 29C). In that context, Aristotle brings “ὁμολογουμένως” into a significative contact with the phrase “συμφώνους λόγους” (Heavens 134–136, 284b, II.i); perchance implying that what is ‘commonly agreed upon’ must be harmonized—made to ‘as- or consonate’—with what is rational and reasonable, in order to satisfy his intellectual probity (in this respect, see e.g. Met. 1–9. 318– 319, 1029a–b, VII.iii.8–iv.2; as to the general use of the term, cf. also “Top.” 290, 103a, I.vii). 184 In a sense, Aristotle’s hardly contestable affinities to the Sophistic—evidenced, not least, by his serious and sober concern with rhetoric—are much less striking than the Platonic ones; spec. in that (for the most part) the former seems capable of refraining from overaccentuating the ‘narcissism of the slightest difference’ (unlike his superb teacher; cf. e.g. D. Laertius Lives I. 306–307, III.34; 308–309, III.36). Then again, “φιλοτιμοῦνται δὲ πρὸς τοὺς ὁμοίους” (Aristotle Rhet. 214, 1384a, II.vi.17; with 198–199, 1381b, II.iv.24; 198n.; and 220–221, 1385a, II.vi.26). As to the aforesaid phrase—used mutatis mutandis, and sans psychologizing intent—see Freud (“Unbehagen” 104, V). Generally as to the above, cf. von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 229).

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As not seldom the case when philosophers stake their claims, the rub may be down to method. It appears that Sophists ‘handle’ (“πραγματεύεται”, “Met. 10– 14” 90, 1064b, XI.viii.3) týche otherwise than judged good by ‘lovers of wisdom’.185 Withal, it will be an issue of definition (or such a power). The presumed truth that ‘of chance there can be no epistéme’ may seem verisimilar for the excellent reason of being contingent upon how said term be demarcated.186 Predictably, philosophers will limit its scope—as that of anything else—to suit their tastes.187 Yet Aristotle’s threshold of tolerance is considerably higher than that of more partial academics: “We only think that we have knowledge of a thing when we know its cause [‘Ἐπεὶ δὲ ἐπίστασθαι οἰόμεθα ὅταν εἰδῶμεν τὴν αἰτίαν’]” (“Post. An.” 208–209, 94a, II.xi; see 30–31, 71b, I.ii )—with the accent on “οἰόμεθα”.188

|| 185 “ἡ σοφιστική περὶ τὸ συμβεβηκὸς γὰρ αὕτη μόνη πραγματεύεται” (“Met. 10–14” 90, 1064b, XI.viii.3). See subchs. 3.7, 4.2, and 4.3, herein. 186 A heuristic inventory may be of use thereto: “science is a potency which depends upon the possession of a rational formula [‘ἡ δ’ ἐπιστήμη δύναμις τῷ λόγον ἔχειν’]” (Met. 1–9. 434–435, 1046b, IX.ii.4); “to know (otherwise than accidentally [‘μὴ κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς’]) that which is capable of proof implies that one has proof of it” (“Post. An.” 30–31, 71b, I.ii); “it is impossible to know that which is contrary to fact [‘οὐκ ἔστι τὸ μὴ ὂν ἐπίστασθαι’]” (“Post. An.” 30–31, 71b, I.ii). See Ockham: “nothing is known unless it is true” (Predestination 48, I.O.Assumpt.5; 52, I.Q.Assumpt.7; 57, II.ii.D; with “Ordin. 38–39” 93, 39.B; “Summa log. III–3.32” 110). Cf. Aquinas: “a thing is not knowable according as it is in potency, but only according as it is in act” (118, XIV.19, as to 19a; plus Met. 1–9. 454–469, 1049b–1051a, IX.viii.1–ix.5). See also Ross (45). 187 Cf. e.g. Plato (“Sophist” 458–459, 268B–C). More soberly, Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 166–167, 1006b, IV.iv.8–10); spec. his—generally applicable—qualifying move: “although in one sense their theory is correct, in another they are mistaken” (Met. 1–9. 183, 1009a, IV.v.6). Cum grano salis: “their statements, though plausible [‘εἰκότως’], are not true” (Met. 1–9. 188–189, 1010a, IV.v.16). Cf. also the question as to what constitutes “arguing properly [‘διαλέγεται’]” (Met. 1–9. 170–171, 1007a, IV.iv.19)—and who decides thereon. Likewise as to the power of definition (Met. 1–9. 174–175, 1007b, IV.iv.28). Pertinently, Schaeffer logs: “philosophy in general defends very restrictive modalities of human knowledge” (Why Fiction? 36). For the Enlightenment context, Gamper notes Kant’s denying “den Charakter der Wissenschaftlichkeit” to ‘disciplines based exclusively on’ “‘Erfahrungsgesetzen’” (“Nicht-Wissen” 108). With an Aristotelian tendency (‘hemin’), Lichtenberg plausibly rejects any pertinence of said limitation to his own field: “we only proceed from this visible appearance [‘sinnlichen Schein’] and observe solely this relation to us’. Kant’s stance is [referred to as] ‘simply altogether metaphysical and actually no concern of ours’” (qtd. in: Gamper “Nicht-Wissen” 109; trans. dsm). With consummate irony, Küpper refers to a scientific performance “in bester Tradition der analytischen Philosophie, die den Gegenstand der Erörterung so zuzuschneiden pflegt, daß alle Momente ausgeklammert bleiben, die der dann natürlich möglichen transparenten Beweisführung im Wege stehen” (“Performanz” 8n.). Generally in the above respect, see also subch. 5.2.1, herein. 188 Cf. Ross: “To know is to know by means of causes” (72). Von Fritz accentuates: “Das Wort ἐπιστήμη […] bedeutet ursprünglich ‘ein Metier beherrschen’, ‘darüber stehen’, ‘sich auf eine

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Like any rhetorician, the Stagirite habitually takes up, ties in with, what others are persuaded of and by (hypolépseis of písteis).189 Such assumptions provide the (im)mediate data for his preferred approach: epagogé always starts from what is close(r) at hand—meaning, the respective given (be that as it may).190 The latter’s semantic implications also suggest that it cannot but be of a certain stability or continuity. For else it would not even register as such. Said constancy is either “invariable [‘ἀεὶ’] and of necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]”— hence non-contingent (“it cannot be otherwise [‘μὴ ἐνδέχεσθαι ἄλλως’]”)—or “usually [‘ὡς δ’ ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’’]” the case (Met. 1–9. 300–301, 1026b, VI.ii.6).191 This || Sache verstehen’, […] ‘know how’ [‘haben’][…]. Daher wird es ursprünglich vornehmlich vom Künstler und Handwerker gebraucht” (“Rückwendung” 233). 189 For Aristotle’s general method—using forensico-rhetorical means to deliberative ends—see this spec. instance, with his explanation: “first let us run over the theories [‘ὑπολήψεις’, sc. ‘suppositions, assumptions’] of others, since to expound one theory is to raise the difficulties involved in its contrary. At the same time […] the arguments […] to follow will inspire more confidence if the pleas of those who dispute them have been heard first. It will not look so much as if we are procuring judgement by default. […] it is arbiters, not litigants[,] who are wanted for the obtaining of an adequate recognition of the truth” (Heavens 94–97, 279b, I.x); “we must not fail to acquaint ourselves with the opinions of former writers” (“Magna Mor.” 449, 1182a, I.i.5). See subch. 8.4, herein. Cf. also this infinitized sample of Aristotle’s rhetorico-epagogic method: “the argument bears out experience and is borne out by it [‘ὅ τε λόγος τοῖς φαινομένοις μαρτυρεῖν καὶ τὰ φαινόμενα τῷ λόγῳ’]” (Heavens 22–25, 270b, I.iii). “All men have a conception [‘ὑπόληψιν’] of” the issue resp. at hand; withal, there is “the evidence of the senses, enough at least to warrant the assent of human faith [‘ἀνθρωπίνην (…) πίστιν’]”; finally, “it seems too that the name” of a given phenomenon “has been passed down to the present time by the ancients” (Heavens 24–25, 270b, I.iii). Guthrie’s gloss précises the three steps for ‘confirming’ “results from experience” as follows: “popular belief […] evidence of the senses […] existence of a name” (Heavens 19n.). On induction and Anknüpfung, see Mayfield (here spec. “hypólepsis” 238n.; 241n.; 243, 243n.–245n.; 250n.; 272; passim); plus ch. 5 (spec. 5.2.1), herein. 190 In general, “we have no direct access to anything but the evanescent and varying” (Wicksteed/Cornford lxviii); one can “extract the permanent and universal out of the transient and […] particular” (lix; cf. “distilling”, li; “the power of the mind to pass from particulars to universals”, lxviii); “investigation should begin […] where we are” (Phys. 1–4. 4n.)—advance by epagogé: “our progress must be from the phenomena accessible to the senses to the conceptions that satisfy the intelligence. […] according to Aristotle, all his predecessors took the opposite course. They began by laying down a general proposition that satisfied, or was even demanded by, their intelligence, and then tried to arrange the facts in harmony with it. […] their deductions led them to more or less unfruitful and insecure results” (Phys. 1–4. 4n.). See this contrastive parallelism: “Plato, starting with the perfect and absolute, […] [is] unable to get rid of the world in which we live […][;] Aristotle, starting from the world in which we live, finds it full of intensest interest in itself” (Wicksteed/Cornford lxiii). See the onset of ch. 4, as well as subch. 5.2.1, herein. 191 As to “necessity” qua that which “cannot be otherwise”, cf. Aristotle’s resp. definitions (Met. 1–9. 224–225, 1015a–b, V.v.3–4; also: 168–169, 1006b, IV.iv.15; 194–195, 1010b, IV.v.28). Ex

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general impression of complete or relative dependability is expressly given as the condition of possibility, the ‘source’ and ‘grounds’ (“ἀρχὴ καὶ […] αἰτία”), for the appearance of there being something typically referred to (“φαμην”) as “the accidental” (“τὸ συμβεβηκός”, Met. 1–9. 300–301, 1026b, VI.ii.6). While proceeding from a rationalistic theory of causality, Aristotle—in keeping with his characteristic affinity for middle ways—plainly excludes its extreme version, total determinism.192 For such would seem excessive (hence unreasonable), in view of the fact that the possibility—even the likelihood—of chance (events) is all but generally acknowledged.193 In the words of Boethius: He therefore claimed correctly that it is neither the case that all things happen by chance, as Epicurus claims; nor that all things happen by necessity, as the Stoic claims; nor, again, that all things happen by free choice. Instead, mixing things together in a world that is mixed together, he claimed that the causes of things, events, or states of affairs are also mixed together […]. The single name for all of these is ‘in-either-of-two-ways’, whether as regards chance, or will, or possibility. (“On Interpret. 9” 179, §239.25–240.8, as to 19a9)194

|| negativo, chance—or events correspondingly labeled—pertain to the (possible and) contingent; with the latter generally denoting that which may be else, or not at all. 192 See Küpper’s politic remark: “Es ist gut, Systeme zu haben, die die Extreme mitreflektieren, aber es ist auch gut, solche Systeme zu haben, die nicht die Extreme zum Ausgangspunkt ihrer gesamten […] Reflexion machen” (“Tragödiensatz” 15n.). For the case at hand, Sorabji: “Aristotle is denying an absolute necessity […] because the determinist’s necessity is an absolute one” (Necessity 23); “the determinist’s necessity of future events is an unqualified one” (Necessity 22). Overall, it might be suggested that the Stagirite would neither “make nonsense of providence”— mutatis mutandis et sensu lato (Boethius “Phil. Consolat.” 433, V.vi.140.prose); nor surely “of deliberation” (Ross 80). Cf. “Aristotle […] removes neither chance, nor necessity, nor possibility […], nor free choice” (Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 174, §230.20–24, as to 18b36); “a line of reasoning that undermines any of these is to be judged impossible” (“On Interpret. 9” 171, §226.23–25). Contrast Kretzmann (“Nos Ipsi” 33–37; 41–42). See the longer passage cited above. 193 Aristotle generally disclaims total necessity (e.g. “Met. 10–14” 90–93, 1065a, XI.viii.6–7). In said context (and an affine one: Met. 1–9. 304–307, 1027a–b, VI.iii.1–4), he examines the upshots of positing strict determinism—rejecting it, like fors absolute. Cf. “the workings of Nature cannot be completely understood as the outcome of chance or of mere necessity” (Phys. 1–4. 105n.). It will likely be for the same reason that—in his worldview—the cosmos may (and must) not have an onset. Due to Aristotle’s noetic habits, the conceivable extremes (whatever they be in a given area) are more or less exempt from his discursive theorizing; else function as limits (only). Such might seem akin to exceptions—whereof it is said that there can be no epistéme. 194 Cf. “by chance, by free choice, by possibility – all of which he called […] ‘in-either-of-twoways’ (utrumlibet, devising the name […] [since] these are not of a single and certain outcome, but […] somehow or other. […] what is picked out by this name is of a nature that is unstable” (“On Interpret. 9” 150, §193.1–5; with 162, §211.19–21). Cf. Kretzmann (“Nos Ipsi” 28–29; 45): “possibility, free choice, […] chance are the seemingly undeniable features of […] ordinary experience that must be rejected as mere appearance if natural determinism is true” (“Nos Ipsi”

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Linguistic usage—signaling noetic plausibilities—serves heuristic purposes.195 We must take this as our starting-point [‘Ἀρχὴν’]: Is everything either ‘always’ or ‘usually’? This is surely impossible [‘ἀδύνατον’]. Then besides these alternatives there is something else: the fortuitous and accidental [‘τὸ ὁπότερ’ ἔτύχε καὶ κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]. (Met. 1–9. 302– 303, 1027a, VI.ii.11)196

In an—ostensibly paradoxical—sense, coincidences are (said to be) inevitable. Chance is of necessity—because not everything seems utterly determined.197 The world as experienced by human beings appears to allow exceptions to the rule— if not to any, then to many, even most; and Aristotle’s epagogic mode will proceed from what is perceived, assumed. Extraordinary cases exist; and pose problems. First, there is the issue of causality. For rationality, or forms of theorizing, investigate the dependable—hence definable—grounds of (all) things. Yet no such reliability seems likely with regard to chance(s): there is no art or determinate potency of accidents [‘οὐδεμία τέχνη οὐδὲ δύναμις ὡρισμένη’], since the cause of things which exist or come to be by accident is also accidental [‘τῶν γὰρ κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς ὄντων ἤ γιγνομένων καὶ αἴτιόν ἐστι κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]. (Met. 1–9. 302– 303, 1027a, VI.ii.9)198

Moreover, “all scientific knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμη’]” cannot but be “of that which is always or usually so”; else it would not meet another of its criteria—that of being ‘learnable’, ‘teachable’ (Met. 1–9. 304–305, 1027a, VI.ii.12).199

|| 29). Boethius picks “‘utrumlibet’ […] throughout Int. 9 to translate ‘hopoter etuchen’” (Kretzmann “sea battle” 46n.; with “Nos Ipsi” 26; 45n.–46n.); “Moerbeke uses ‘quodcumque contingit’” (“Nos Ipsi” 45n.). Cf. Ockham: “fortuitously (ad utrumlibet)” (“Comment. De int. 9” 98). 195 See Boethius: “linguistic expressions reveal thoughts” (“On Interpret. 9” 146, §185.19–20). 196 Also vice versa: “the accidental must exist [‘ἀνάγκη εἶναι τὸ κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς ὄν’]. […] Otherwise, everything must be regarded as of necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]” (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.10). The not altogether incurious result of this parallelism of terms is a (seeming) ‘necessity of chance’. A similar effect is observable with regard to causality’s contingency. 197 Cf. “probabiliter […] non omnia fato fieri quaecumque fiant” (Cicero “De fato” 236, XVII.40). 198 See Sorabji: “accidents […] have only accidental causes” (Necessity 5; with 24). Relevantly, he glosses: “The argument requires that there be only accidental causes; otherwise there could be arts dealing with accidents” (Necessity 5n.). Apparently reading the ‘horisméne’ as referring to both ‘téchne’ and ‘dýnamis’, Bonitz/Seidl trans. “von dem Akzidentellen aber gibt es keine bestimmte Kunst und kein bestimmtes Vermögen. Denn was in akzidentellem Sinne ist oder wird, hat auch eine Ursache, die es nur in akzidentellem Sinne ist” (Metaphysik 128–129, 1027a, VI.2.b). Should this zeugma be the case (as it might), Aristotle’s sense seems more plausible. For there are indeterminate, elusive ‘arts’ of the accidental—the Sophistic, (its) rhetoric; see below. 199 “Attributes which are not essential [‘Τῶν δὲ συμβεβηκότων μὴ καθ’ αὑτά’] […] do not admit

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By the same rationale of concern with (relative) universality, ‘epistemai’ must be incapable of actually stating (or anticipating) each and every of the potential— hence countless—exceptions to a rule: “It is indeed impossible to enumerate all the infinity of accidents [‘ἀδύνατον ἄπειρά γ’ ὄντα τὰ συμβεβηκότα διελθεῖν’]” (Met. 1–9. 170–171, 1007a, IV.iv.18).200 By definition, “the accidental”—“τὸ κατὰ συμβεβηκός”—“is not necessary but indeterminate [‘οὐκ ἀναγκαῖον ἀλλ’ ἀόριστον’]”; whence “the causes [‘τὰ αἴτια’] are indefinite [‘ἄπειρα’] and cannot be reduced to a system [‘ἄτακτα’]” (“Met. 10–14” 92–93, 1065b, XI.viii.9).201 Then again, “the accidental” is defined from the negative—qua “contrary [‘παρὰ’]” to what is “always or usually”; hence Aristotle concludes (as before, once more) “that there is no science of it” (Met. 1–9. 304–305, 1027a, VI.ii.13).202

|| of demonstrative knowledge, since it is not possible to give a necessary proof of the conclusion; for an accidental attribute may not apply [‘τὸ συμβεβηκὸς γὰρ ἐνδέχεται μὴ ὑπάρχειν’]” (“Post. An.” 58–59, 75a, I.vi); “scientific demonstrations are concerned with essential attributes and proceed from them. For accidental attributes are not necessary [‘τὰ μὲν γὰρ συμβεβηκότα οὐκ ἀναγκαῖα’]” (“Post. An.” 60–61, 75a, I.vi). Cf. Sorabji: “Aristotle[’s] […] scientist is not concerned with particular events, only with kinds of event […][;] not […] with coincidences” (Necessity 24). 200 Proceeding from a spec. case: “τὸ δὲ παρὰ τοῦτο οὐχ ἕξει λέγειν πότε οὔ”; which Tredennick trans. “But science will not be able to state the exception to the rule” (Met. 1–9. 304–305, 1027a, VI.ii.13). This version seems problematic. For it could concede that there are exceptions to (most) rules—this being what the Stagirite performs with his (no doubt ‘epistemic’) accounts of chance. Only a full reckoning of every potential eventuality gainsaying a (perceived) regularity will—in all probability—seem impossible to human minds (unaided). Cf. the trans. by Bonitz/Seidl: “Was aber außerhalb dieser Regel fällt […] wird man nicht angeben können […]; das Akzidentelle aber fällt neben und außer diesen Fällen” (Metaphysik 129, 1027a, VI.2.c); “τὸ δὲ συμβεβηκός ” (Met. 1–9. 304, 1027a, VI.ii.13). Plus Vogt (125). As usually, Aristotle proceeds, argues epagogically: experience shows that humans are unable to reckon with—scrutinize, assess, take stock of—all things (a generally significative case: Met. 1–9. 166–167, 1006b, IV.iv.10). The rationale may be: chances are infinite; sciences must start, stop somewhere; logical processes will impose limits. Cf. “if the series is to go on indefinitely [‘ἄπειρον’] downwards, any particular later member of the series must come-to-be not by absolute [‘οὐκ (…) ἁπλῶς’], but only by conditional [‘ἐξ ὑποθέσεως’][…] necessity [‘ἀνάγκη’]; […] since the infinite has no beginning [‘μή ἐστιν ἀρχὴ τοῦ ἀπείρου’], neither will there be any primary member of the series which will make it necessary for the other[…]s to come-to-be” (“Coming-to-Be” 324–325, 337b, II.11; with 324n.–325n.). Cf. the n. on infinite regress in subch. 3.3; the gloss on contingency qua inception in 4.4, herein. 201 See von Fritz: “das Unendliche […] ist […] auch immer ein Unvollendetes” (“Das ἄπειρον” 687; being “immer ein Werden”, 688; with an “Element des Ungeordneten”, 689). 202 Cf. “because every science has as its object that which is so always or usually, and the accidental falls under neither of these descriptions” (“Met. 10–14” 91, 1065a, XI.viii.5); “some things […] are […] neither usually nor always and of necessity, but fortuitously [‘ὅπως ἔτυχεν’]. […] The accidental [‘τὸ συμβεβηκὸς’] […] is that which comes about, but not always nor of necessity or usually” (“Met. 10–14” 90–91, 1064b–1065a, XI.viii.4–5).

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A proper ‘epistéme’ of chance is unlikely to be feasible in the—let alone all— particulars; hardly is it impossible in general.203 If chance is too ‘random’—which it must be, to appear as such, its causes and symptoms being “infinite” (“ἄπειρα”, Met. 1–9. 298, 1026b, VI.i.2)—this very fact may be describable ex negativo.204 The latter will be what Aristotle performs when treating the phenomenon at issue. More problematic is the Stagirite’s assertion that there can also be no ‘art’ of the accidental (“οὐδεμία τέχνη”, Met. 1–9. 302, 1027a, VI.ii.9). This must seem

|| 203 “the particular is infinite and cannot be the subject of a […] science [‘τὸ δὲ καθ’ ἕκαστον ἄπειρον καὶ οὐκ ἐπιστητόν’]” (Rhet. 22–23, 1356b, I.ii.11); “things infinite [‘τὰ δ’ ἄπειρα’] in number cannot be exhausted” (“Post. An.” 118–119, 82b, I.xxii); “it is impossible to exhaust in thought an infinite series [‘τὰ δ’ ἄπειρα οὐκ ἔστι διεξελθεῖν νοοῦντα’]. […] we cannot define a substance of which an infinite number of terms is predicated” (“Post. An.” 122–123, 83b, I.xxii); “the more particular [‘μᾶλλον κατὰ μέρος’] causes are, the more they tend to form an infinite regress [‘τὰ ἄπειρα’], whereas universal [‘καθόλου’] demonstration tends towards the simple [‘τὸ ἁπλοῦν’] and the finite [‘τὸ πέρας’]; and causes qua infinite [‘ἄπειρά’] are not knowable [‘οὐκ ἐπιστητά’], whereas qua finite they are knowable. Hence causes are more knowable qua universal than qua particular; and therefore universal causes are more demonstrable” (“Post. An.” 142–143, 86a, I.xxiv). Yet the ensuing does not seem to follow: “no art has the particular in view [‘οὐδεμία δὲ τέχνη σκοπεῖ τὸ καθ’ ἕκαστον’]” (Rhet. 22–23, 1356b, I.ii.11). Cf. “mathematics never assumes an accident [‘οὐδὲν συμβεβηκὸς’] but only definitions [‘ἀλλ’ ὁρισμούς’]. This is another respect in which mathematical differs from dialectical reasoning [‘ἐν τοῖς διαλόγοις’]” (“Post. An.” 84–85, 78a, I.xii). In other words: there are ‘arts’ as commence with particulars, accidents, the ‘nonfinite’, unlimited; and spec. those with Sophistic affinities. By implication, the ensuing deal with uncertain, indefinite matters: “Dialectic” and “Rhetoric […] are faculties [‘δυνάμεις’]”, not “sciences [‘ἐπιστήμας’]”; the latter’s “subjects” being “certain definite things [‘ὑποκειμένων τινῶν πραγμάτων’], not merely words [‘μὴ μόνον λόγων’]” (Rhet. 40–41, 1359b, I.iv.6; cf. “anstatt nur für Worte”, Rhet. [Krapinger] 22). Since said wording might mislead the anti-rhetorically inclined into (implausibly) attributing their resentment to Aristotle, Kennedy’s version (of the overall passage) may seem preferable, here: “In so far as someone tries to make dialectic or rhetoric not just mental faculties but sciences, he unwittingly obscures their nature by the change, reconstructing them as forms of knowledge of certain underlying facts, rather than only of speech” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 53; cf. “statt von den Worten allein”, Rhet. [Sieveke] 24). Roberts has “practical faculties” for ‘dynámeis’; and adds another relevant implication of ‘lógon’: “rather than simply with words and forms of reasoning” (“Rhetorica” 1359b, I.4). 204 This might be exemplified by recourse to Aquinas, stating (with Aristotle): “In contingent matter, […] universal enunciations are false” (103, XIII.5, as to 18a28); “things that take place contingently pertain exclusively to singulars” (104, XIII.6, re 18a28). See Ammonius: “there are also some things which occur contingently, whose coming to be one must ascribe to causes which are, obviously, particular and at each time different” (93, §131.8–10). The aforesaid formula reappears within one of the articles condemned by Tempier: “futura contingentia sunt particularia” (92, §42[15]). Cf. subch. 4.4, herein. Per se, both of the Aquinate’s sentences are statements declared, seen, taken to hold on the whole; and not sans reason or plausibility. Oesterle logs: “Aristotle treats accidental being […] as to what it is in general” (13).

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somewhat implausible; especially since one is taken to exist, which the philosopher has actually mentioned (at “Met. 10–14” 88–91, 1064b, XI.viii.1, 3)— though perhaps not himself acknowledged (as such). Sophistics is a téchne of appearance(s) indeed; and chance the same (as is also said at Met. 1–9. 298–301, 1226b, VI.ii.3–4).205 Perhaps, Plato was not entirely awry regarding the former—seeing that both are similarly elusive.206 To approach the matter, Aristotle’s account of ‘poietic epistemes’ will serve: all arts [‘πᾶσαι αἱ τέχναι’], i.e. [‘καὶ’, sc. and] the productive sciences [‘αἱ ποιητικαὶ ἐπιστῆμαι’], are potencies [‘δυνάμεις εἰσίν’]; because they are principles of change in another thing[.] (Met. 1–9. 432–433, 1046b, IX.ii.1)207

If this be the measure, there can be no doubt that Sophistics—concerned with the accidental above all (see Met. 1–9. 299, 1026b, VI.ii.4)—is a téchne. For the corresponding ‘artists’—or their characteristic, linguistic skills—do produce something, which makes this a ‘practical science’ (if in virtuality).208 Then again, even convictions lacking a fundamentum in re may yield factual results. As an instantiation of the human potential to know that nothing is simply sans concessions or qualifications, wordcraft focuses on adapting to the respective—meaning, always variable, contingent—circumstances; and to the best of said animal’s capacities. Particular expectations or general experience are the measure; and an inductive approach its habitual method.209 There can be no strict—axiomatic, deductive, systematic—epistéme of the exception, because (as Aristotle stresses time and again) science proper deals with (what is taken to be) the rule. Even so, téchnai—and the art of rhesis above || 205 The resp. passages are cited above. Salient questions seem to be: what counts as a ‘téchne’ or ‘epistéme’; which modes of handling the accidental are acceptable—and who decides thereon. 206 On the Sophist’s elusiveness, see Plato (e.g. “Sophist” 288–289, 223C; 298–299, 226A; 318– 319, 231C; 330–331, 235B; 346–347, 239C; 350–351, 240C; 354–355, 241C; 402–403, 254A; 430–431, 261A–B, incl. a reference to a potentially infinite regress; and passim). 207 This version by Bonitz/Seidl seems more proximate to the source: “Alle Künste […] und die hervorbringenden Wissenschaften sind Vermögen; denn sie sind Prinzipien der Veränderung in einem anderen” (Metaphysik 182, 1046b, IX.2.a). See the onset of ch. 4, herein. 208 Cf. Plato: “every power [‘δύναμιν’] is productive which causes things to come into being which did not exist before” (“Sophist”; 446–447, 265B; with 326–327, 233D–234A; and passim)— against the textual grain (if not his). 209 A given (communal, collective, social) set of assumptions (definitions, laws, regulations) is the measure or gauge for any—perceived—exception. The latter are contingent upon the resp. viewpoint, which is occasioned or conditioned by countless circumstances and potential qualifications; and might as well be otherwise. Rhetorically speaking, one will always have to inquire as to who is ‘taking’ (‘capere’) something ‘out’ (‘ex’)—or exception to something.

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all—are performatively capable of (anticipatingly) integrating irregularities into their relatively flexible order; and specifically by (always) leaving a certain leeway or margin of contingency: a possibility for being otherwise, or not at all.210 In this respect, the arch-rhetorical notion and concept of eikós—signifying likelihood, probability, verisimilitude—may well be the most lucid instance.211 Chances are exceptions. Yet precisely as such are they not exempt from being described ex negativo; and so envisaged as a general possibility (albeit not in each detail). What can be reckoned with on the whole may be factored in productively, at least to some degree; notably in terms of calculation, manipulation. Where eventualities are judged reasonable by and large, the fabrication of happenings supposedly by chance is not out of the question; nor a detection, instruction, acquisition, implementation of the respective faculties (see the onsets of 7, 8, 13). Contingency conduces to sophistry—which, in a sense, may seem the ‘scientification’ of (exploiting) the accidental; and the wide field of fortune is an orator’s playground.212 Rhetoric is the art of—taking advantage of—chance.213 || 210 Beaujour’s—only apparently incidental—remarks are cases in point: “Besides, one hesitates to call Montaigne a theoretician. One certainly ought to refrain from calling him a philosopher (in any meaningful sense of the word), even with charitable intent. For there is no science (or philosophy) of the singular. It is evident that his method must be found faulty and his findings trivial according to any coherent set of epistemological criteria. Idiosyncrasy and endless scribbling about oneself will never produce a falsifiable hypothesis” (192). Then again (performatively so)—“Die Skeptiker – scheint es – sind Nous-Knacker: darum herrscht traditionell Zweifel daran, ob sie überhaupt zu den Philosophen gehören: insofern gelten sie als Outsider. Indes: man kann sie auch ganz anders sehen” (Marquard Gewaltenteilung 75). 211 Cf. Küpper: “in the Stagirite’s […] œuvre”, the “theory of tragedy is […] the best support for the thesis that an ‘art of contingency’ exists. For the best peripéteia is […] achieved, if it seems contingent a[nd] causal simultaneously” (n. to the ms. of this ch.; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm; with “Poetics” 60–73, 1451b–1453a, §9–13; spec. 62–63, 1452a, §9). Cf. Rohde (38–41), cum grano salis. 212 Qua art of the accidental, rhetoric may be described as the (exploitation of the) knowledge that there are exceptions to any rule. Aristotle asserts: “nobody deliberates [‘οὐδεὶς βουλεύεται’] about […] irregular occurrences [‘οὐδὲ περὶ ἄλλοτε ἄλλως’] […]. Nor about the results of chance [‘οὐδὲ περὶ τῶν ἀπὸ τύχης’], such as finding a hidden treasure [‘οἷον θησαυροῦ εὑρέσεως’]. The reason why we do not deliberate about these things is that none of them can be effected by our agency [‘οὐθὲν δι’ ἡμῶν’]. We deliberate about things that are in our control and are attainable by action [‘περὶ τῶν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν καὶ πρακτῶν’]” (NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.3, 5–6). See subchs. 3.1, 3.3, 3.7, the onset of 4, and 4.1, herein. As is the case with the potentially problematic claim that there can be no ‘(art or) science of chance’, the above assertion would depend on what counts as ‘deliberation’. Without doubt, human beings are capacitated to reckon with the erratic generally; to engage in wishful thinking about some, otherwise unspecified, stroke(s) of luck; to be (warily) undecided about whether something is in their power or not. Accidents not only happen. 213 Here as well, the téchne focuses on making a weaker position the stronger: accidents are— can be seen, taken as—chances also. See the onsets of chs. 4, 7, 8; plus 4.1 to 4.3, 8.2, 13, herein.

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A given community’s typical expectations may be exploited. What is usually anticipated tends to seem plausible, even if deliberately manufactured.214 For “actuality is prior to potentiality [‘πρότερον ἐνέργεια δυνάμεώς ἐστιν’]” (Met. 1– 9. 454–455, 1049a, IX.viii.1).215 Pertinently, Frede observes: Aristotle must […] have encountered the problem of the Sea-Battle when he developed the distinction between dunamis and energeia, as witnessed both in his physical and metaphysical writings. (83)

3.7 Towards Logic’s Rhetoricization Perì Hermeneías IX (18a–19b) Failing positive evidence to the contrary, […] take the traditional view[.] —Cook (7n.; infinitized) some stories are more likely than others. —Frede (33; see 68–69)216 Plausibility is a mixture of logic and criteria of relevance. —Küpper (“Kulturwissenschaft” 8; trans. dsm)

While sharing a common ground swell, Aristotle’s takes on chance appear to differ in the nuances. The accent emerging from the works discussed so far may be referred to as mainly ‘epistemic’ (sensu lato).217 While advancing from the realm of (linguistic) experience—in the Physics, ethical treatises—the restless movement of his thought ultimately tries to pass beyond it (in the Metaphysics).218 Far from otherworldly, that dominion is ‘simply’ of the mind.219 It proves capable || 214 For “it is hard to diagnose where the plausibility comes from” (Sorabji “deterministic” 5; infinitized)—precisely. In a rhetorico-Sophistic view, effectually tapping into it will suffice. 215 (With Met. 1–9. 454–457, 1049b–1050a, IX.viii.1–8; 464–465, 1051a, IX.viii.20). Cf. “ἐνέργεια: realization in action or fact” (Rhet. 52n.). 216 See Sorabji: “logic is well accustomed to dealing with statements of possibility, but not with guarded statements of fact” (“deterministic” 4). One will generally be facing cases of this format: “I think the best (not the only) answer would be” etc. (“deterministic” 9; infinitized). 217 Isaac observes “l’absence dans les autres ouvrages du Philosophe de toute allusion à notre traité [sc. perì hermeneías]” (11; likewise Oesterle 1). 218 A mise en abyme of Aristotle’s basic praxis: “things ought to be described in the language used by the majority [‘καθάπερ οἱ πολλοί’], but when it is asked what things are of certain kinds [‘ποῖα’] and what are not, you must no longer pay attention to the majority” (“Top.” 338–339, 110a, II.ii). On the import of his characteristic use of ‘légetai’, see subchs. 3.2 to 3.4, 5.2.1, herein. 219 Frede: “our chapter seems to presuppose the rather differentiated notion of contingency we find discussed in Met. Θ” (61, with 61n.; Met. 1–9. 460–461, 1050b, IX.viii.15–16). See subch. 3.5.

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of subsuming a ceaseless—else inestimable—mass of data under more general headers; whence it might advance deductively, reverting to particulars. Rules and regulations for this universal, considerably formalized province and its modes are principally provided by the art of decontextualization.220 Before (re)turning to the rather practical, and apparently ‘softer’ skills—of rhetoric, poetics, politics, and moral philosophy (in chapter 4)—the aforesaid discipline’s attempted rigor apropos the phenomenon at hand requires attention.221 As to conceptualizing contingency, perì hermeneías will be the ‘place to go’.222 The second in the traditional órganon, this treatise is self-evidently logical in nature.223 Consistent therewith, Aristotle defines (hence restricts) his object thus: || 220 Cf. Schopenhauer: “Logik […] ist das allgemeine, durch Selbstbeobachtung der Vernunft und Abstraktion von allem Inhalt erkannte und in der Form von Regeln ausgedrückte Wissen von der Verfahrungsweise der Vernunft” (WWV I. 83, I.9). Generally, see Bubner: “Immer agieren wir in Kontexten, die weder instrumentierbar noch vollständig überschaubar sind. Deshalb stellt […] die experimentelle Anlage einer streng objektivistischen Forschung eine extreme Sondersituation dar, die durch methodische Bemühung eigens herbeigeführt werden muß. Die Strategie zur Ausschaltung von […] Zufallsfaktoren ist in hohem Maße künstlich und wird niemals restlos gelingen” (“Zufall” 8). Regarding the adjective “instrumentierbar”, it appears requisite to modify Bubner’s negative hyperbole with an adverb such as ‘wholly’, ‘utterly’ (‘gänzlich’). He repeatedly logs Aristotle’s accent on praxis (e.g. at “Zufall” 6, 8–11; passim; Geschichtsprozesse 35–39); and rhetoric’s contextuality (“Zufall” 12–13; 16–17; 20; passim). 221 While likely due to the acroamatic genre, the discipline’s strictures will also have conduced to the ensuing: “La rédaction du Peri hermeneias est d’une extrême concision, à tel point qu’on a souvent l’impression d’avoir affaire à de simples notes” (Isaac 12). See the onset of ch. 3, herein. 222 In Latin: ‘de interpretatione’. It “was seemingly so called since language was regarded as interpreting thought” (Cook 7). In line with its content, the German title tends to be “Über den Satz”. Cf. “Peri Hermeneias means literally, ‘On interpretation’ or ‘explanation’, but these […] equivalents do not quite convey what Aristotle’s treatise is about”; one could “add[…] ‘especially of thoughts by words’”; hence it “might be better translated ‘On the Enunciation’, as […] Thomas also concludes” (Oesterle 1; see Aquinas/Cajetan 17–19, 19n., I.Intro.; Frede 78n.). 223 Cf. Talanga (144; 161). Generally, Forster notes: “the logical treatises of Aristotle […] since about A.D. 200 have passed under the title of the Organon or ‘instrument’ of science” (266). For the present tract, it must be stressed that, “jusqu’au XIIIe siècle”, the “dialecticiens médiévaux” had only the Boethian “version” (Isaac 16; cf. 16n.). “L’histoire littéraire du Peri hermeneias en Occident […] met d’abord en un singulier relief l’importance qu’a eue la version de Boèce. Il est difficile évidemment d’imaginer ce qui aurait manqué à la pensée médiévale en l’absence de cette traduction. […] La vie intellectuelle du haut moyen âge aurait donc été sensiblement modifiée, semble-t-il, si Boèce s’était abstenu de traduire le Peri hermeneias” (153). Cf. Fuhrmann (Spätantike 151); Kretzmann: “For the countless medieval discussions of future contingents only De interpretatione 9 itself is of greater historical importance than Boethius’s discussions of it” (“Nos Ipsi” 23). Withal, Aquinas “a bénéficié de conditions exceptionnellement favorables, la collaboration de […] Moerbeke et la découverte d’Ammonius notamment” (Isaac 155; plus 126; and Moerbeke 158n.). See Blumenberg (Beiträge 39); Talanga (145–146); and subch. 4.4, herein.

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while every sentence has meaning [‘σημαντικός’] […] by convention, not all can be called propositions. We call propositions only those that have truth or falsity […]. A prayer [‘εὐχὴ’] is […] a sentence [‘λόγος’][,] but neither has truth nor has falsity. Let us pass over all such, as their study more properly belongs to […] rhetoric [‘ῥητορικῆς’] or poetry [‘ποιητικῆς’]. We have in our present inquiry propositions alone for our theme. (“On Int.” 120–121, 17a, IV)224

Later, he adds an affine reason for such disciplinary limitations: “These and some other provisos are needed in view of the puzzles propounded by importunate sophists [‘πρὸς τὰς σοφιστκὰς ἐνοχλήσεις’]” (“On Int.” 124–125, 17a, VI).225 As above, said adversaries demarcate, necessitate Aristotle’s methodology ex negativo. Qua set of (procedural) rules, logic is designed to counter the attitude of ‘anything goes (if it does)’—meaning, the measure of situated effectuality prevailing in everyday interactions or rhetorical agonistics.226 Concerning contingency, the central section is the ninth.227 A logical dictum sets the tone: “In regard to things present or past, propositions, whether positive || 224 Simplicius logs: “an oath cannot be true or false” (150, §406.22, with context; see Gaskin’s expedient glosses at 229n.). Rolfes trans. the above follows: “Es zeigt aber jede Rede etwas an, jedoch […] konventionell, d. h. auf Grund einer Übereinkunft. Dagegen sagt nicht jede etwas aus, sondern nur die, in der es Wahrheit oder Irrtum gibt. Das ist aber nicht überall der Fall. So ist die Bitte zwar eine Rede, aber weder wahr noch falsch. Doch wollen wir von den anderen Arten der Rede absehen, da ihre Erörterung in die Rhetorik oder Poetik gehört. Hier handelt es sich um die Rede im Sinne der Aussage” (“Lehre vom Satz” 3–4, 17a, §4). Generally, cf. Aristotle (“Poetics” 96–97, 1456b, §19); Bubner (Modern 43–44). Frede stresses: “the whole of de Interpretatione is dedicated to the investigation of the various forms of affirmation and negation” (78). 225 See Frede (80). The German seems more sober: “und was sonst noch alles zu dieser Begriffsbestimmung gegenüber sophistischen Einwürfen hinzugefügt werden muß” (“Lehre vom Satz” 5, 17a, §6). It does spirit away the tinge of ‘enochléseis’ (mayhap: ‘annoying’ as a ‘mob’). 226 Bubner accentuates: “die Situationsabhängigkeit des rhetorischen Geschäfts […] zeigt sich unvermeidlich am Erfolg. […] Rhetorik […] [‘ist’] erfolgsorientiertes Redehandeln bei Gelegenheit” (“Zufall” 13; with: “der pragmatische Redeerfolg”, 17). Cf. ch. 13 (spec. 13.5), herein. 227 (See “On Int.” 132n.). Legion are the studies expressly, incidentally concerned with this brief segment. It is unfeasible (here) to assess the data having (rather reliably) accrued during well over two millennia. Certain hints might prove of assistance (no more being aimed at, much less claimed). An aidful synopsis, appraisal is offered by Sorabji (Necessity 91–103). See his concise analysis of the main fault lines in terms of tendency, take (spec. Necessity 92–96): “traditionalists and their opponents each have their difficulties[;] […] given the enormous variety among the opposition, I cannot indicate how they would all try to cope. […] the traditional view can cope better than any [‘know(n)’] alternative” (Necessity 96). Cf. Frede: “One of the most intriguing chapters in the Corpus Aristotelicum is chapter 9 of […] de interpretatione. Commentators of all times have tried their hands on it to work out a plausible interpretation, but no real consensus has been reached” (31). As to Simplicius and the “traditional […] interpretation of Aristotle taken by the Peripatetics”, cf. Sorabji (Necessity 92); also Frede (44). Yet “Boethius […] explicitly denies […] the traditional interpretation”, asserting that “all predictions are for Aristotle true or false,

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or negative, are true of necessity or false” (“On Int.” 131, 18a, IX). The case differs for the future—even in said discipline (see “On Int.” 133, 18a, IX).228 The exact nature of this variance has given rise to innumerable controversies for well over two millennia: “Aristotle’s own solution to the problem [‘of ‘logical’ determinism’] is obscure” (Sharples 11).229 Ideal for perpetuating critical careers, such a state of play also conduces to scholarly endeavors.230 Ultimately, it marks a cause for humanistic delight—and rhetorico-sophistic use.231 In Sorabji’s sober

|| but not ‘definitely’ true nor ‘definitely’ false. Boethius says that the qualification ‘definitely’ has to be understood” (Sorabji Necessity 93; the scholar notes “the obscurity of the word ‘definitely’”; plus Frede 44, 44n.). See the ensuing gloss; as well as the n. on Simplicius and Boethius, below. 228 Cf. this version: “But with particulars that are going to be it is different” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 50, at 18a28, §9; with 134). Gaskin logs: “The ninth chapter of D[e] I[nt.] has a tripartite structure. […] the first part (18a28–34) […] argues that a certain thesis applies to statements about the present and past but not – or not in the same way – to singular statements about the future” (The Sea Battle 16). Frede: “That there is a problem in the case of future contingents for Aristotle is understandable, for in their case according to his conception of contingency by definition nothing is settled, they are indeterminate, ‘aorista’. […] future truth and contingency collide” (40; cf. 61, 77); “the notion of future truth itself […] causes the problem” (55). Isaac: “L’assimilation pure et simple des futures singulières aux autres énonciations conduit à des absurdités” (136). Mignucci: “It is absurd to reject the existence of contingent events” (78). 229 This would incl. how to call the resp. construals. Kretzmann opts for speaking of ‘the oldest (traditional) and second-oldest interpretation’ (at “sea battle” 24–29). Problematically, Gaskin wishes to label the former “the anti-realist” one (The Sea Battle 12). By and large: “The literature on this chapter is vast” (Sharples 11n.). Cf. Mignucci (78n.); also on the intellectual suppliers of Ammonius and Boethius (74–77); spec. “Porphyry […] seems to be” their “main source for the discussion of alternative readings of Aristotle’s text” (75; with 74). Generally, see Sorabji: “Boethius’ commentary […] is so full of the Stoic-Aristotelian controversy” (“backgrounds” 17). 230 Cf. Ackrill: “This chapter has provoked vigorous discussion ever since it was written” (132). Striker: “seit der Antike eine Flut von Diskussionen und Kommentaren” (146). Talanga tenders an expedient synopsis of the chief issues tackled: “Schränkt Aristoteles die Geltung des Prinzips vom ausgeschlossenen Dritten ein? Führt er […] einen dritten Wahrheitswert (weder wahr noch falsch) ein, womit er zum Begründer der dreiwertigen Logik würde? Hält er das Prinzip vom ausgeschlossenen Dritten aufrecht, während er die Geltung des Bivalenzprinzips bei den Urteilen über das zukünftige Kontingente bestreitet? Oder läßt er die Geltung der beiden Prinzipien uneingeschränkt, wogegen er bei den kontradiktorisch entgegengesetzten Urteilen über zukünftige kontingente Sachverhalte die Distribuierung der Notwendigkeit auf die einzelnen Urteile leugnet?” (13). See Sorabji: “it has been suggested that what Aristotle denies is only the principle of bivalence (every proposition is true or false), not the law of the excluded middle (either p is true or not-p is true)” (Necessity 94). Cf. Frede (31). 231 See Sorabji’s suggestive formulations: “in modern times[,] the same kind of manoeuvre has been used for a different purpose” (“backgrounds” 20; infinitized). “Aristotle […] has been used as ammunition by both sides” (“deterministic” 8; infinitized); and, by extension, any. Moreover, one might “exploit” a given “view”, in order “to show that” a certain “position is not the only

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words: “The commentary tradition did not stand still” (“backgrounds” 17).232 To treat his matter in a performative manner, the Stagirite first tests this take: there is nothing that happens by chance [‘οὔτε ἀπὸ τύχης’] or fortuitously [‘οὔθ’ ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν’]; […] all events come about of necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]. (“On Int.” 132–133, 18b, IX)233

“But this is unlikely” (in the Aquinate’s eloquent brevity, 107, XIII.10, re 18b9).234 As a matter of course, the aforesaid proposition marks an untenability according to Aristotle also: both logically and commonsensically—as he demonstrates at some length (see “On Int.” 134–137, 18b–19a, IX).235

|| possible one” (Mignucci 76; infinitized). In other words: argument in utramque partem vel in plures may well amount to contingency in application. See subch. 8.4, herein. 232 Perchance, the inevitable agonistics have caused such nonplusment (among logicians) that remarks like this can apparently be made (and printed): “I am not concerned with Aristotle” (Mignucci 53)—precisely while trying to expound Ammonius’ commentary on perì hermeneías. The ensuing may evince that the issue could be down to a (surely laudable) innocence of eristics: “It is difficult to understand why Boethius should insist on criticising a position which […] is logically equivalent to his own and differs from his only from a rhetorical point of view” (57). 233 Varied again as: “future events […] come about of necessity. Nothing is casual, contingent [‘οὐδὲν ἄρα ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν οὐδὲ ἀπὸ τύχης ἔσται’]. For if a thing happened by chance [‘εἰ γὰρ ἀπὸ τύχης’], it would not come about of necessity [‘οὐκ ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]” (“On Int.” 134–135, 18b, IX). Sorabji gives the structure as follows: “Aristotle formulates for rejection two deterministic arguments at 18a34–b9 and 18b9–16, and gives his reply in three parts at 19a23–7, 19a27–32 and 19a32–9” (“deterministic” 7). Cf. Ackrill (132), who stresses the vicariousness and ventriloquism involved: Aristotle “puts himself in the place of the determinist” (136). As Ammonius remarks, the philosopher “wants […] to support the opinion which destroys the contingent, in order to refute it when it is at its strongest”; and so is “acting the part of those who defend” it (102, §139.26–29, as to 18a34). In structural respects, see also subch. 8.3.3, herein. 234 (Cf. 110, XIV.1, generally as to 18b–19a; and 111, XIV.3, re 18b33). 235 See Cicero’s affine formulation: “omnia necessitas efficit; id si verum est, nihil est in nostra potestate. Est autem aliquid in nostra potestate” (“De fato” 226, XIV.31; these lines cite, or ventriloquize, Carneades). Not least, in that interferences tend to be possible: “quibusdam autem in rebus causis antegressis in nostra tamen esse potestate ut illud aliter eveniat” (“De fato” 242, XIX.45). For a problematically reductive assessment of Aristotle’s take on ‘fate’ (sensu lato), see Cicero (“De fato” 234–235, XVII.39). The latter will not be in line with the sources as have come down to the present. Frede observes: “Cicero […], incidentally, does not seem to have known Aristotle’s esoteric writings too well […][;] in de Fato[,] [he] seems unaware of the fact that the determinist argument came from Aristotle” (78–79, 79n.). See Talanga (15; with 166); Sharples (12; 22–23); and Sorabji (Necessity x, plus n.)—who pertinently observes: “opinions on this issue have been diverse since the earliest times. […] people mean such different things by ascribing determinism or indeterminism to Aristotle, or qualify their ascription in such different ways. What is very much commoner than a straightforward deterministic interpretation is the

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The pragmatic objection to the notion of absolute necessity will be the most vital.236 For the overall issue of contingency is associated with human agency in the Stagirite; and likewise throughout the tradition—specifically with respect to that most thorny of issues, the liberum arbitrium.237 Positing total determination—“all things that are or take place come about in the world by necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]”—appears to entail the following: No need would there be for mankind to deliberate [‘βουλεύεσθαι’][,] or to take pains [‘πραγματεύεσθαι’], could we make the assumption that[,] if we adopt a particular line, then a certain result will ensue[;] and that, if we do not, it will not. (“On Int.” 136–137, 18b, IX)238

Within a systematic tract, this ex negativo argument seems markedly oratorical. The speaker assumes that everyone knows—and so agrees—that ‘deliberation’ is possible; does occur; and will, not infrequently, influence the course of events.239 || ascription of a deterministic slant to a particular area of Aristotle’s work” (Necessity x; with 3, 92–93, 93n.–94n.). Cf. Inciarte (132–133); also subch. 3.2; more generally, 2.3, herein. 236 Structurally: “indefinite statements are used frequently in ordinary language” (Frede 34n.). 237 Cf. Boethius: if “all things that are[,] or happen[,] happen necessarily[,] and nothing by chance […], nothing would be left to the governance of free choice (liberum arbitrium)” (“On Interpret. 9” 134, §110.25–28, as to 18a39); if “everything occurs with the inevitable character of necessity […], free choice comes to nothing. But that is impossible” (“On Interpret. 9” 134, §111.24–26, as to 18a39; cf. §111.20–21; 135, §111.10–12, re 18b5; 165, §217.14–16, as to 18b26; 165– 167, §217.16–219.9, §220.19–20, re 18b26; 169, §223.9–12; 173, §230.4–10, as to 18b36). See Sorabji (“backgrounds” 19–20). Frede observes that—while Aristotle “points out the dire consequences of the determinist arguments”—“[s]ome of the problems that later dominated the discussion of determinism (like freedom of the will) are here only indicated […]. Other questions like the concepts of fate, providence, or determinism in nature are not discussed at all. Aristotle’s concern is here mainly the theoretical problem of the compatibility of contingency with fixed truth-values. Since chapter 9 as a whole is staged as a reductio ad absurdum[,] the theoretical (practical) consequences are pointed out in detail” (57). 238 Cf. Vogt (125–126). Referring to parallels in the prima philosophia (Met. 1–9. 304–307, 1027a– b, VI.iii.1–4; “Met. 10–14” 92–95, 1065a, XI.viii.9–12), Sorabji similarly suggests that Aristotle “take[s] it as obvious that not every thing happens of necessity” (Necessity 7). M. M. Adams’ objection demonstrates that it is not so to everyone. She declares “Aristotle’s reasoning” to be “remarkably fallacious: if everything came to pass of necessity, our deliberations would come to pass just as necessarily as our actions” (7). See also subchs. 3.5 and 3.6, herein. 239 Generally, “contingency [‘ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχε’]” (incl. qua chance) and (bilateral) “potentiality [‘ἐνδέχεσθαι’]” appear to be related (“On Int.” 140–141, 19a, IX); “the possible” is ‘dynatòn’; “the […] contingent” termed ‘endechómenon’ (“On Int.” 156–157, 21a, IX). Frede logs: “By ‘possible’ in ch[.] 9 Aristotle means two-sided possibility” (52n.). Cf. “Every potentiality is at the same time a potentiality for the opposite [‘πᾶσα δύναμις ἅμα τῆς ἀντιφάσεώς ἐστιν’]. For whereas that which is incapable of happening cannot happen to anything, everything which is capable may fail to be actualized [‘τὸ δυνατὸν δὲ πᾶν ἐνδέχεται μὴ ἐνεργεῖν]. Therefore that which is capable of

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Nor is it necessarily incidental that Aristotle here chooses to use a term also employed with regard to the—supposedly, or well-nigh ‘inexistent’—‘art of the accidental’ that is Sophistics, respectively rhetoric.240 Proceeding inductively, the philosopher subsequently refutes the hypothesis of utter determinism provisionally posited priorly: We know [‘ὁρῶμεν’] from our personal experience that future events [‘τῶν ἐσομένων’] may depend [‘ἔστιν ἀρχὴ’] on the counsels [‘βουλευεσθαι’] and actions [‘πρᾶξαί’] of men, and that, speaking more broadly, those things that are not uninterruptedly actual exhibit a potentiality [‘τὸ δυνατὸν’], that is, a ‘may or may not be’ [‘ἐν οἷς ἄμφω ἐνδέχεται’]. If such things may be or may not be [‘καὶ τὸ εἶναι καὶ τὸ μὴ εἶναι’], events may take place or may not [‘καὶ τὸ γενέσθαι καὶ τὸ μὴ γενέσθαι’]. (“On Int.” 136–139, 19a, IX)241

|| being may both be and not be [‘τὸ ἄρα δυνατὸν εἶναι ἐνδέχεται καὶ εἶναι καὶ μὴ εἶναι’]. Therefore the same thing is capable of both being and of not being. But that which is capable of not being may possibly not be; and that which may possibly not be [‘τὸ δὲ ἐνδεχόμενον μὴ εἶναι’] is perishable; either absolutely [‘ἁπλῶς’], or in the particular sense in which it is said that it may possibly not be, that is, in respect either of place or of quantity or of quality [‘κατὰ τὸ (…) ποιόν’]. ‘Absolutely’ means in respect of substance [‘ἁπλῶς δὲ τὸ κατ’ οὐσίαν]” (Met. 1–9. 460–463, 1050b, IX.viii.15–17; see “Post. An.” 28–29, 71b, I.ii). Küpper accentuates “[d]ie weitgehende Synonymität [‘des endechomenon’] mit der Kategorie des Möglichen […]: Das endechomenon ist limitiert durch die Grenze zu demjenigen, das Aristoteles das ‘Unmögliche’ (adynaton) nennt” (“Ordnung” 212; see “Prior An.” 256–257, 32b, I.xiii). Cf. Wetz: “Um von irgendetwas sagen zu können, daß es nicht sein müßte oder anders sein könnte, […] muß man annehmen, daß es zuvor möglich war, daß es sowohl existieren als auch nicht existieren kann” (“Begriffe” 27). Contrast Bubner, who gives ‘hopóter’ étychen’ as: “Die Chancen […] sind alle gleich verteilt” (“Zufall” 6). 240 Cf. Aristotle’s remarks on Sophistic modes of ‘handling’ (“πραγματεύεται”, “Met. 10–14” 90, 1064b, XI.viii.3); together with the denial of an epistéme (Met. 1–9. 298–299, 1026b, VI.ii.3– 4; 298n.; “Met. 10–14” 88–91, 1064b, XI.viii.1, 3) and téchne (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.9) of the accident. See the discussion and further references in subch. 3.6, herein. 241 With the qualification in its context (cited below). Cf. Moerbeke’s trans. of the above’s onset: “Si autem haec impossibilia… Videmus enim quia principium est futurorum et a consiliari et ab agere aliquid” (167, 19a). Aquinas logs: “the position taken is impossible in relation to human affairs, for clearly man seems to be the principle of the future things that he does insofar as he is the master of his own actions and has the power to act or not to act. Indeed, to reject this principle would be to do away with the whole order of human association and all the principles of moral philosophy” (112, XIV.5, as to 19a12; similarly at 246, III.i.73.5). Cf. Boethius (“Phil. Consolat.” 400–401, V.iii.84–107.prose). Ammonius stresses: “virtue and vice” would be “empty names (for where can they have a place, if nothing is up to us[)]” (112, §150.21–22, as to 19a7). Generally, cf. Niehues-Pröbsting: “Gegenstand der Beratung ist das Zukünftige, […] die ungewisse Zukunft, das, was möglicherweise, nicht das, was notwendig sein oder nicht sein wird” (“Ethos” 343). “Einsicht vollzieht sich im Überlegen, Mit-sich-zu-Rate-gehen (bouleuesthai), das immer Dinge betrifft, die […] nicht unveränderlich und notwendig, sondern ungewiß und möglich sind, und die […] von uns abhängen”: “Menschliches, […] das heißt, […] Veränderliches” (“Ethos” 346).

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Likely, questions of probability—degree, quality, verisimilitude—are involved in this argument (at some level). Pragmatically and de re, some matters or actions will be within human reach (if not grasp). For “that nothing is up to us […] is absurd and contrary to the evidence” (Ammonius 109, §147.24–25, as to 18b26).242 Entailing practical reasoning and rhetoric—notably the deliberative variant, hence the litterae, as well—the above points beyond logic sensu stricto.243 The commentators have tended to acknowledge this: the present treatise “is actually necessary for all the parts of philosophy” (Ammonius 93, §130.28–29); and “has such great force in regard to our entire life” (94, §131.20).244 || 242 “The expression ‘up to us’ (eph’ hêmin) appears in Aristotle’s discussion of the voluntary (hekousin) […][;] it becomes the usual way to refer to that which is in our power” (Blank’s gloss at Ammonius 119n.; referring to “ἐφ’ ἡμῖν”, NE 130, 1111b, III.ii.9; with 140, 1113a, III.iii.19; spec. 142–145, 1113b, III.v.1–6; “Eudemian” 264–267, 1223a, II.vi.8–11). Cf. Alexander of Aphrodisias (45–46, §168.7–14, V; 48, §172.3–4, VII; 57–58, §180.3–181.6, XII; 61, §183.27–31, XIV; passim); with Sharples (3n.; 6; 9; 20–22). In the Greek tradition, “[t]he will may be thought of as a rational desire […] not identical with reason. It may be connected inter alia with freedom, […] with will power and the effort to control, […] with moral responsibility as represented by such expressions as ‘voluntary’ an[d] ‘up to us’” (Sorabji “backgrounds” 19). See Küpper: “virtue is ‘in our power’ (eph’ hēmin), ‘it is up to us to be decent or mean’ (eph’ hēmin ara to epieikesi kai phaulois einai), virtues and wickedness are ‘voluntary’ (hekōn), the possibility of a life guided by reason is therefore not to be assigned to ‘chance’ (tychē)” (“Perception” 122; with Aristotle NE 144, 1113b, III.v.3). Cf. Boethius’ polemics against the Stoics (“On Interpret. 9” 165–166, §217.16–218.25; with Kretzmann “Nos Ipsi” 33). Concisely thereto, Aquinas (246, III.i.73.7). For a distinction performed by the aforesaid School, see Blumenberg: “frei sind wir nur im Bereich des ἴδιον, […] unfrei im Bereich des ἀλλότριον” (zur Technik 78; also Legitimität 48). Cf. Vogel: “Der Maßstab dafür, ob etwas gut oder schlecht ist, finde[t] sich in der Unterscheidung, ob eine Sache eph’hêmin oder ouk eph’hêmin ist, ob sie zu den eigenen oder fremden Dingen zählt” (153; with 48–50, 170). 243 Accentuating “daß die logische Maschine im Leerlauf bleibt, wenn nicht zu Anfang etwas hineingetan wird, das nicht selbst aus der Maschine stammt” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 669), von Fritz pertinently observes: “Seine [sc. Aristotle’s] logischen Untersuchungen sind unzweifelhaft ausgegangen von der menschlichen Interkommunikation, von dem menschlichen Bestreben, sich gegenseitig zu belehren, zu überzeugen, zu überführen, auf etwas hinzuweisen, […] in den Augen der Zuhörer recht zu behalten” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 645; with 665). Cf. Trimpi: “the materials […] of oratory and literature are qualitative and admit only of probability” (Muses 304); “qualitative probability […] must constantly resist the danger of being resolved either into the true or the false” (Muses 304). It will avoid logification (decontextualization, depragmatization, monolateralism, absolutism, sterile rigor for the sake thereof). Cf. subchs. 4.2, 4.3, herein. 244 Plus context: “Although th[is] study […] seems to be a logical one, it is actually necessary for all the parts of philosophy. For, in all of ethical philosophy it is necessary to admit that not all things are or come to be of necessity (ex anankês), but that there are […] some things which are up to us (eph’ hêmin)[.] […] this study is […] useful for […] phusiologia […], since the natural philosopher too will investigate whether all that comes to be arises of necessity (ex anankês) or whether some things arise from chance (apo tukhês) and spontaneously (ek t’automatou). […]

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In a relevant passage from another work, Aristotle observes: “Opinion [‘δόξα’] deals with that which can vary [‘τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον’], and so does prudence [‘φρόνησις’]” (NE 340–341, 1140b, VI.v.8).245 For “no one deliberates about things that cannot vary [‘βουλεύεται δ’ οὐθεὶς περὶ τῶν ἀδυνάτον ἄλλως ἔχειν’]” (NE 344–345, 1141b, VI.vii.6). One is facing animals capable of taking counsel; this fact and phenomenon cannot be spirited away.246 Since all causalities are subject to contingency in human affairs, the present could not be a—let alone strictly—systematized (or -able) sphere.247 Temporality— notably as regards the coming—seems to provide a link to other disciplines; while simultaneously marking a potentially (or likely) precarious factor within logic.248 The Stagirite proceeds to give a corollary proposition—here in the form of a general example. Should there be no contingency, naught would

|| this study [‘also’] extends to first philosophy. […] You will not find even the most inexpert (idiôtikôs) of people neglecting to think about this study, but some try to ascribe the fault for their errors to fate (heimarmenê) or to divine or demonic providence, as though all things occurred of necessity […][;] while others, assuming that there are also some things which are up to us, fight off those who make everything necessary” (93–94, §130.28–32, §130.35–131.2, §131.4– 5, §131.10–13, §131.17–18). See Boethius (“On Interpret. 9” 146, §185.17–19; 153, §198.10–13). 245 Cf. “Prudence […] is concerned with the affairs of men, and with things that can be the object of deliberation. For we say that to deliberate well is the most characteristic function of the prudent man; but no one deliberates about things that cannot vary [‘βουλεύεται δ’ οὐθεὶς περὶ τῶν ἀδυνάτον ἄλλως ἔχειν’][;] nor yet about variable things that are not a means to some end, and that end a good attainable by action; and a good deliberator in general is a man who can arrive by calculation at the best of the goods attainable by man” (NE 344–345, 1141b, VI.vii.6). Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (“Ethos” 346); plus the onset of ch. 4; and 4.1 to 4.3, herein. 246 See Alexander of Aphrodisias (55, §178.11–15; 57, §179.24–26, XI); Boethius: “Aristotle destroys every interpretation that presents necessity alone as in command of things, events, or states of affairs. Nothing that is by nature is in vain, but deliberating is something that human beings have naturally. But if necessity alone will have mastery over actual things, deliberation is for no reason. Deliberation is not in vain, however, since it is by nature” (“On Interpret. 9” 167, §220.10–14; with Kretzmann “Nos Ipsi” 34–35). Likewise Ammonius: “one would be accusing nature of vain toil for having made us capable of deliberation” (110, §148.12–13, as to 18b26). “‘Nature does nothing in vain’ is a favourite principle of Aristotle” (126n.). See subch. 3.2, herein. 247 Humans being contingency incarnate, their deeds, motives, causes cannot be systematized definitively; only approximated tentatively. Cf. the onset of ch. 4; and 4.2, 6.5, 13.5, herein. 248 Pertinently, Frede observes that “Aristotle […] does not see it [sc. ‘future truth’] as a logical problem only” (58). Little wonder that certain logicians (as virtually all metaphysicians) try to spirit away temporality (and corporeality along therewith). It is a factor such mindsets are unable to deal with by means of the rigid, decontextualized instrumentarium wherein faith is put. Generally, see Frede (59–60; 64, 64n.; spec. her critical discussion of a tell-tale reductivism, 69– 71). Cf. the onset of ch. 5; as well as subch. 10.3.2, herein.

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prevent any man from predicting some future event (say) some ten thousand years beforehand, while another predicts the reverse: the event that was truly predicted must […] come to pass at long last. […] it is quite immaterial whether contradictory predictions were actually made beforehand. For that someone affirmed or denied does not alter the course of events. And events are not caused or prevented by [‘διὰ’] someone’s affirming or denying that at some future time they would happen. (“On Int.” 136–137, 18b, IX)249

This segment would change in significance and gain further virulence, if relocated into a theological—specifically monotheistic—context.250 As a matter of course, Aristotle has not been dealing with prescience or prophesies, but science proper—and also with common sense. For precisely at this point, he apparently assumes—rather plausibly (meaning, rhetorically)— that his levelheaded hearers or readers have had enough of total determinism, even as a provisional experiment of thought.251 Plainly, it is “contrary to common experience […] that everything is or occurs of necessity” (Oesterle 11).252 || 249 See Alexander of Aphrodisias: “our ignorance makes no difference to the existence or nonexistence of the facts” (53, §176.25–26, X). For an affine discussion, cf. Cicero (“De fato” 206–209, VII.13–14; 222–223, XI.27; plus context). Frede logs: “a commitment to definite truth-values not only rules out the contingency of a certain event at a certain point of time but […] the determinist argument entails that there never was nor ever will be any truly contingent event. […] once ‘future truth’ has been admitted, no time limit can be proferred” (55). Generally, see Normore: “Aristotle discussed the contingency of the future in at least two places: De interpretatione […] 9, and Metaphysics […] VI, […] 3. […] The [latter] […] was typically understood by medieval writers to be of ‘causal’ rather than ‘logical’ determinism” (“Future” 358n.). Sorabji has: “Aristotle’s most famous treatment of determinism in De Interpretatione 9 is not concerned with causation at all” (Necessity 91). Yet see also Frede (49, 49n.; 65); and spec. Aquinas (107, XIII.11, as to 18b9). Ackrill stresses: “Aristotle does not, here or in other works, draw a sharp distinction between logical and causal necessity; he treats laws of logic and laws of nature as on a par” (133). 250 Needless to say, “the ancient world paid a great deal of attention and gave a large place to oracles, divination, prophecies and predictions in general. Philosophers were accordingly interested in these phenomena” (Mignucci 65). 251 Such as would (fain) bring the Stagirite into their providential flock—hardly of the lowest caliber otherwise—seem to evince a tendency to underrate the utter sobriety of his mind: “Aristoteles, der große Ernüchterer des Platonismus” (Blumenberg Höhlen. 192). Cf. the onset of ch. 5; and 11.1.2, herein. On the above, see Frede: “Most interpretations assume that the chapter’s overall strategy is […] to prove in a long reductio ad absurdum that[,] if [the] P[rinciple of] B[ivalence] (or something analogous) holds[,] the concept of the contingent has to be given up” (39n.; with 51, 57). See Talanga (81); Kretzmann on Lukasiewicz (“sea battle” 24). By contrast: “for Boethius […] the Principle of Bivalence holds not only for past and present but also for future contingent propositions” (Mignucci 59; “accepted without restriction”, 65; plus 68, 70, 76). 252 See Aquinas: “This argument is by reduction to the impossible” (106, XIII.10, as to 18b9). With Isaac: “raisonnant par réduction à l’impossible” (139). Ockham logs that Aristotle “infers several absurdities from that absurdity” (“Comment. De int. 9” 97; cf. 101, as to 18b26–19a6). In

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To corroborate his pragmatic focus on human agency, the Stagirite tenders a (virtually) tangible example. Presumably, he actually points to ‘this’ (likely, his own) ‘cloak’, upper tunic (“τουτὶ τὸ ἱμάτιον”), saying that it could be cut in two, or not; but (being used, exposed to wear and tear) it might as well become threadbare, frayed, full of holes; hence not be bisected, or subjected to volitional scissoring—though that would have been possible (“On Int.” 138–139, 19a, IX).253 From this particular, the philosopher extrapolates the general case in his characteristic manner: “The same with all other events which in any such sense are potential [‘κατὰ δύναμιν’]” (“On Int.” 138–139, 19a, IX).254 In accord therewith, the tentative proposition of utter necessity is qualified: Thus it is clear [‘φανερὸν’] that not everything is or takes place of necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’]. Cases there are of contingency [‘τὰ (…) ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχε’]; no truer [‘οὐδὲν μᾶλλον (…) ἀληθής’] is […] the affirmative, no falser, than the negative statement. Some cases […] we find that, at least […] for the most part and commonly [‘ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’], tend in a certain direction[;] and yet they may issue [‘ἐνδέχεται γενέσθαι’] at times in the other or rarer direction. (“On Int.” 138–139, 19a, IX)255

|| general, Kretzmann observes the “radically counter-intuitive implications” of “determinism” (“sea battle” 24). With respect to Alexander of Aphrodisias—“‘The Commentator’ par excellence” (15)—Sharples stresses that his “argument in the de fato is characterised by appeals to the obvious and to common opinion […]; such arguments are in accordance with Aristotelian practice” (18). Generally, the Stagirite’s “influence is everywhere apparent” (16). Normore stresses: “We think that some of what we will do we could avoid” (“Future” 359). 253 See Talanga (58–59). Frede’s wily variation: “your prediction that my coat will be cut up does not bring its destruction about; the scissors do that. Yet my spiteful hanging on to it ‘makes’ your prediction wrong; just as your prediction ‘made’ me hold on to it” (61; cf. 57, 63). Moerbeke trans. “vestimentum” (167, 19a). Ackrill: “this cloak” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 52, at 19a7, §9). Contrast Boethius, who appears to infinitize the example: “any cloak” (“On Interpret. 9” 178, 237.21 and 24, as to 19a9); but this may be due to an erratum; or trans. choice (“On Interpret. 9” 190n.). 254 It will be no coincidence that Aquinas adds his long excursus at (just) this point (113–120, XIV.8–24, as to 19a12). Boethius glosses: “It is on the basis of possibility […] that chance, […] an indeterminate cause coming to pass without any plan, sometimes surprises” humans; “free choice comes out of that possibility” also (“On Interpret. 9” 179, §239.15–17, §239.22, as to 19a9). 255 Ackrill trans.—“Clearly, therefore, not everything is or happens of necessity: some things happen as chance has it, and of the affirmation and the negation neither is true rather than the other; with other things it is one rather than the other and as a rule, but still it is possible for the other to happen instead” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 52, at 19a7, §9). See Frede (57–58). Sorabji notes that the philosopher “denies […] that everything has been necessary all along”; hence “represent[s] Aristotle as an indeterminist” (Necessity x; with xii, 21). Cf. Sharples (4–6); Ross (80), cum grano salis. As to the aforesaid maneuver, Sorabji logs that the Stagirite “turns round and argues that since many future events are not yet necessary […], therefore the corresponding predictions are not yet true or false” (Necessity 96). As above, Aristotle’s frequent and characteristic use of the

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As signaled by that ‘mallon’ (soon to become a Skeptical watchword), one is dealing with matters of degree, relativity, comparison.256 Perspectives and likelihoods are involved; hence practical reasoning, deliberative rhetoric. With the above, that unruly ‘sector’ of exceptions to the rule—else described as ‘belonging’ to týche—is also intimated.257 Frede’s comment is indispensable: as long as there is even a faint chance of an irregularity in nature or of an interference in human actions[,] a prediction of such an event cannot (yet?) be true or false, otherwise an impossibility would result in case the unexpected should come about. The […] reference to what happens most of the time is […] not a further argument against the deterministic conclusions […], but a[…] clarification of what the realm of the contingent includes. (67)

The Stagirite had given the ensuing description of otherwiseness shortly after the onset of the ninth section pertaining to perì hermeneías: Things could just as well happen as not […]. For as that term is used in regard to both present and future events, the contingent [‘τὸ (…) ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν’] is that which could just as well [‘οὐδὲν μᾶλλον’] happen in this way as that. (“On Int.” 134–135, 18b, IX)

The basic drift is restated, further qualified, in Aristotle’s précis of this segment: one half of […] [a] contradiction must be true[,] and the other half false. But we cannot say which half is which [‘οὐ μέντοι τόδε ἢ τόδε ἀλλ’ ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχε’, sc. not this, nor that, but as it chances]. Though it may be that one is more probable [‘μᾶλλον μὲν ἀληθῆ τὴν ἑτέραν’, sc. more true than the other], it cannot be true yet [‘ἤδη’] or false” (“On Int.” 140–141, 19a, IX)258

|| ‘phaneròn’ is particularly plausible in epagogic contexts, after an experiential sample. In such cases, its valence and function may seem affine to the (decidedly) rhetorical use of ‘eikós’. 256 Cf. Moerbeke’s version of the resp. line: “sed haec quidem utrumque contingit et nihil magis affirmatio quam negatio vera” (167, 19a). In trans. the above, Oesterle has these formulae: “no more true than”; “more in one way than another”; “for the most part, and yet it is possible” (trans. Aristotle in: Aquinas/Cajetan 110, XIV, at 19a18). Rolfes uses: “um nichts wahrer”; “zwar wahrer […] und meistens […], jedoch unbeschadet der Möglichkeit” (“Lehre vom Satz” 10, 19a, §9). See Frede: “more likely in one case than in another” (65). She accentuates: “The meaning of ‘rather this than that’ must vary depending on the subject matter” (65n.). 257 Cf. Frede (66–67). The above wording ties in with the concept of ‘sectorality’, as used by Küpper for explicating the state of play—and spec. the diversification of epistemes—during the Renaissance (see Discursive 12; 263; 274–275; also 22, 254n.). 258 Controversies over this segment have a long tradition. The “ἤδη” appears in all codices—at least, Weidemann does not seem to state aught to the contrary (De Int. [Teubner] 16, 19a39, §9; with 16n.). Moerbeke gives the decisive phrase as “non tamen iam veram vel falsam” (168, 19a). Oesterle: “but it is not yet actually true or false” (in: Aquinas/Cajetan 121, XV, at 19a32). Ackrill: “not, however, this one or that one, but as chance has it; or for one to be true rather than the other, yet not already true or false” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 53, at 19a23, §9). Cf. Rolfes’ version overall:

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Later still, “It may be” is said to suggest: “It is contingent. / It is not impossible. / It is not necessary”; vice versa, “It is contingent” entails “It may be” (“On Int.” 163, 22a, XIII).259 The latter “implies a bilateral potentiality [‘ἄμφω ἐνδέχεται συμβαίνειν’]” (“On Int.” 166–167, 22b, XIII).260 To exemplify the contingency of the future, Aristotle tenders the notorious instance of a potential or putative ‘naumachía’ at the end of the ninth section in perì hermeneías (also already referred to earlier, “On Int.” 134–135, 18b, IX): all things must be or not be [‘εἶναι μὲν ἢ μὴ εἶναι ἅπαν ἀνάγκη’], or must come or not come into being [‘καὶ ἔσεσθαί γε ἢ μή’] […]. But we cannot […] say which alternative must come to pass [‘οὐ μέντοι διελόντα γε εἰπεῖν θάτερον ἀναγκαῖον’; sc. saying one of the two in separation (does) not (render the selection) necessary]. For example, a sea-fight must either […] [come to be] on the morrow or not [come to be; ‘ἀνάγκη μὲν ἔσεσθαι ναυμαχίαν αὔριον ἢ μὴ ἔσεσθαι’]. No necessity is there, however, that […] [tomorrow a sea-fight, sc. naval battle] should come to [be] […][;] or should not [happen; ‘οὐ μέντοι ἔσεσθαί γε αὔριον ναυμαχίαν ἀναγκαῖον οὐδὲ μὴ γενέσθαι’]. What is necessary is that it either should happen […] or not [happen; ‘γενέσθαι μέντοι ἢ μὴ γενέσθαι ἀναγκαῖον’]. (“On Int.” 138–139, 19a, IX; modified by recourse to Rolfes’ rendition, “Lehre vom Satz” 11, §9)261

|| “bei dem, was nicht immer ist oder nicht immer nicht ist […] muß zwar ein Glied der Kontradiktion wahr sein, bzw. falsch, aber nicht dieses oder jenes bestimmte Glied, sondern beliebig das eine oder das andere von beiden, und es muß vielleicht auch das eine eher wahr sein als das andere, aber doch nicht so, daß es […] [schon] wahr wäre oder falsch” (“Lehre vom Satz” 11). For more than two millennia, said “ἤδη” has proven one of the rubs in the various construals of Aristotle’s ‘sense’. See Ackrill (141); Sorabji (Necessity 92–93, 95n.); Frede (43; 47; 69); Talanga (80). As the most blatant case, Sorabji logs: “there is Aristotle’s final claim […] that it is not necessary for every contradictory pair that one should be true and one false. A[lbrecht] Becker found this so embarrassing that he suggested it should be excised as an addition made by someone who did not understand the argument” (Necessity 95; with 94n.–95n.). Conversely, Aquinas gives it as Aristotle’s quod erat demonstrandum: “This is the conclusion he principally intended” (123, XV.5, as to 19a39). See the n. on Boethius, Simplicius, below. 259 The table is in the English only, the Greek being sequential. Yet cf. also Weidemann’s ed. (De Int. [Teubner] 30, 22a24–31, §13). See the trans. into German: “Auf vermögend zu sein […] folgt kontingent sein nach Seite des Seins […], und dieses ist mit jenem konvertibel, und nicht unvermögend zu sein und nicht notwendig nach Seite des Seins” (“Lehre vom Satz” 20, 22a, §13). Cf. Frede’s problematization (62, 62n.). Ammonius states that the “contingent” is defined “by the elimination of the extremes, i.e. the necessary and the impossible” (116–117, §154.36–37). 260 More literally (the ensuing parentheses being Rolfes’ clarifications): “Denn jenem (vermögend zu sein) kann beides (sein und nicht sein) mitfolgen” (“Lehre vom Satz” 21, 22b, §13). 261 Being (highly) problematic, Cook’s trans. must be modified, in order to follow the Greek more closely (as far as possible, and indicated above). In this respect—and qua suitable control— see the rendering on the part of Rolfes: “Es ist notwendig, daß alles entweder ist oder nicht ist[,] und sein wird oder nicht sein wird. Es ist aber nicht notwendig, daß man eins von beiden getrennt für sich behauptet. Ich will z. B. sagen: es ist notwendig, daß morgen eine Seeschlacht

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Perchance, the—hardly insignificative—change of verb (“ἔσεσθαί” to “γενέσθαι”) in the penultimate sentence cited might have aided in averting some of the countless (re)construals of this passage (often not exactly bona fide).262 Then again, one cannot be certain what Aristotle (else his editors) said or wrote.263

|| [‘]sein oder nicht sein wird[’][;] es ist aber nicht notwendig, daß morgen eine Seeschlacht sein wird[,] oder daß sie nicht stattfindet; notwendig aber ist, daß sie [‘]entweder stattfindet oder nicht[’]” (“Lehre vom Satz” 11, §9). Rolfes attends to Aristotle’s change in verb (“sein wird”, “nicht stattfindet”). See also Oesterle’s version, as cited in the n. below. 262 Moerbeke’s rendition: “Dico autem puta necesse quidem fore navale bellum vel non fore cras, non tamen fieri navale bellum cras necessarium neque non fieri; fieri tamen vel non fieri necessarium” (168, 19a). Oesterle has: “For example, it is necessary that there will or will not be a naval battle tomorrow; however, it is not necessary that a naval battle take place tomorrow, nor is it necessary that it not take place. Yet it is necessary that it either take place or not take place” (in: Aquinas/Cajetan 121, XV, at 19a27). The syntax pertinently underscores the holistic character of the alternative (“necessary that there will or will not be”); but elides the (probably indicative) change of verb in midsentence—precisely the one stressing a separation. In a logical milieu, difference cannot but be marked. Should one opt for neglecting this one—due to the quasi ‘self-evident’ semantic similarity between “ἔσεσθαί” and “γενέσθαι” (“On Int.” 138, 19a, IX)—the basis for detecting, or appealing to, other terminological niceties would seem to have been eroded considerably. To say nothing of remarks like the ensuing: “But I can see no reason for treating such passages as more than mildly unfortunate results of a rhetorician’s attempt to avoid a monotonous vocabulary” (Kretzmann “sea battle” 32; in a Boethian context). 263 As a rule, “there are difficulties in our sources which have led […] readers to offer very diverse interpretations” (Sorabji “backgrounds” 21). In this case, two codices (Ambrosianus, the commentary by Ammonius) have “γενέσθαι” rather than “ἔσεσθαί γε” at 19a31; but no less than seven others (incl. Marcianus, Laurentianus, Vaticanus Barberinianus and Urbinas) have the latter, or slight modifications thereof; it is not clear on which grounds Weidemann can opt for the least attested variant (De Int. [Teubner] 16, 19a31, §9; with 16n.; and page LVI for the codices; likewise Talanga 75). On the whole, blurring the verbs in question, or shifting their point of alteration, is a widespread practice (in trans.). Kretzmann’s version has “going to be” invariably: “it is indeed necessary that there is going to be or is not going to be a sea battle tomorrow; but it is not necessary that there is going to be a sea battle tomorrow, or that there is not going to be one; rather, it is necessary that there is going to be one or not going to be one” (rendering Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 182, §244.5–9, at 19a27; cf. 142, §121.15–20, as to 19a23; likewise in Ockham “Comment. De int. 9” 103). Blank uses “will be” and “happen”, though not in the sentence at issue (in line with his source): “it is necessary that there will be a sea battle tomorrow or that there will not be; but it is not necessary that a sea battle happen tomorrow or that one not happen – even though it is necessary that one happen or not happen” (in: Ammonius 114, §152.19–22, at 19a23). Leaving aside the omission or (determinist) erratum in Frede’s citation of Ackrill’s version (cf. 73; with 50), the latter does change the verbs, but before—rather than in— the sentence in question: “it is necessary for there to be or not to be a sea-battle tomorrow; but it is not necessary for a sea-battle to take place tomorrow, nor for one not to take place—though it is necessary for one to take place or not to take place” (“De Int. [Ackrill]” 53, at 19a23, §9).

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An alternative in its entirety (‘either or’) is logically necessary.264 For—as per the fundamental axiom of the discipline at issue—any simultaneity of opposites is a priori excluded by variations on the principle of (non)contradiction.265 Yet each of the options by—in and of—itself is not anankaion: ‘it will come to be’ is not necessary; ‘it will not happen’ is not necessary.266 Withal, the temporal ‘movement’—notably the (notion of a) future—appears to be the sine qua non in this (virtual) matter.267 From a logical angle, or in such a

|| 264 Cf. Gaskin: “the disjunction that there will either be a sea battle tomorrow or not is true, but […] neither disjunct is true” (in: Simplicius 231n.); “the disjunction can be supervaluated as true[,] even though the disjuncts lack a determinate truth-value” (230n.; with The Sea Battle 14). 265 It exists in several types, with diverse taxonomies, different nuances. Cf. e.g. “the capacity for two contraries can belong to a thing at the same time, but the contraries cannot belong at the same time” (Met. 1–9. 465, 1051a, IX.ix.2; plus “Top.” 361, 113a, II.vii). Pertinently, Ammonius gives “the axiom of contradiction” qua that “from which, as most evident, we develop all proofs” (108, §146.12–13, re 18b16; with 126n.). See his wording for the context at hand: Aristotle “begins from the axiom of contradiction, saying that […] it is neither possible for both to be false together nor for both to be true together […][;] lest the same thing at once hold and not hold of the same thing” (102, §140.1–5, §140.8–9, as to 18a34; plus §139.16–17). Cf. Boethius (“On Interpret. 9” 138, §116.30–117.3, re 18b20; 165, §216.16–23). For further references, see also subchs. 3.3 and 4.4, herein. In an affine sense, cf. Frede: “the law that of two contradictory states one or the other must hold” is called “the law of excluded middle” (36; with 75, 79–80, 82). “[I]n view of a possible middle ground between what will be or will not be”, Oesterle observes that, “from the viewpoint of the opposition of contradiction[,] there is no intermediary” (12); “no medium between ‘is going to be’ and ‘is not going to be’” (in: Aquinas/Cajetan 107n.). See Gaskin (The Sea Battle 13). 266 Cf. “the disjunctive proposition composed of the two parts of a contradiction about the future is necessary. […] it is not necessary taken separately—i.e., neither part of the disjunctive is necessary” (Ockham “Comment. De int. 9” 103, re 19a23–19a32). Cf. Ross (briefly, 80); Talanga (73–77, 77n.; 163–164); Vogt (48); Frede: “though the antithesis is necessary, the distribution of the necessity is wrong” (74). For “the two most important commentaries on the determinist’s sea battle argument” (Sorabji “Preface” vii), see the utile comparison of Ammonius (spec. 114–117, §152.12–155.9, as to 19a23) and Boethius (“On Interpret. 9” 141–143, §121.17–124.7, re 19a23). Cf. Sorabji (“deterministic” 8–13); and this wording in Alexander of Aphrodisias: “the proposition ‘there will be a sea-battle tomorrow’ can be true but not also necessary” (54, §177.8, X). 267 See Sorabji (Necessity xi). It is by eliding the difference between temporal dimensions that deterministic slants (of whichever couleur) attain to their desired results: “Concerning the contradictory pairs having regard to future time[,] the Stoics […] say: ‘As are the oppositions concerning present and past things, so too are future ones – […] either ‘It will be’ is true or ‘It will not be’[’]”; “for according to them […] future things have […] been made determinate” (Simplicius 150, §406.34–407.3; with 230n.). See Gaskin’s gloss as to “the Stoic adherence to an unrestricted Principle of Bivalence” (230n.; with Cicero “De fato” 216–217, X.20–21). Sharples observes that, while “Epicurus [is] rejecting determinism and consequently denying that all future-tense propositions are true or false, the Stoics [are] arguing that all propositions are true or false[,] and using this as an argument to support determinism” (11).

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milieu, “only the coming is contingent” (Küpper “Ordnung” 197n.; trans. dsm).268 If something (past or generally conceivable) is not (the case) at present, it may well occur (again), at another point in time; but might also just not.269 On that score, human, sublunar temporality seems irrevocably vectorial, cannot be halted or reverted.270 At most, it might be circular—seasonal, say; but said iterations are never ‘identical’.271 Such eludes the art of decontextualization: “Abstraction itself guarantees timelessness” (Kablitz “Representation” 196).272 Given the norms, mode, scope, and thrust of logic, circumstantial factors will appear unnecessary—undesirable even. As per this rationale, the philosopher sees no need (here) to be reflecting on the query as to whether one can (or could) even know (a posteriori) that said battle has taken place.273 While some form of

|| 268 As to necessity in hindsight, see the parallel: “Choice is not concerned with anything that has happened already: […] one [‘does’ not] deliberate about what has happened in the past, but about what still lies in the future and may happen or not; what has happened cannot be made not to have happened” (NE 331, 1139b, VI.ii.6; with Rhet. 32–33, 1358b, I.iii.4; 38–39, 1359a–b, I.iv.1–3; 452–453, 1418a, III.xvii.5; both are discussed in more detail below; see subchs. 4.1, 4.2, herein). Cf. Oesterle (10); Sorabji (Necessity 8; “deterministic” 8; “backgrounds” 17); Frede (49). 269 “In De int[.][…] 9 arbeitet Aristoteles den Zeitbezug der zweiseitigen Möglichkeit heraus. Nur hinsichtlich des Zukünftigen kann gesagt werden, daß es sowohl sein kann als auch nicht sein kann. Vorgerückt in die Gegenwart, ist es entweder oder es ist nicht” (Wetz “Begriffe” 28). With the qualification that such is valid in a strictly logical milieu (only). Cf. subchs 4.2, 4.4, herein. 270 Generally, see Küpper: “it is hardly conceivable that there can be conscious activity of the human mind (i. e. human existence) without a consciousness of time. Life is finite and every being capable of conceptually representing its own life or the lives of others will necessarily attain to the knowledge that things change unstoppably and vectorially” (“Trad. Cosmos” 387– 388). For Aristotle, cf. also subch. 3.2, herein. 271 See Küpper on “cyclical concepts of time” (“Trad. Cosmos” 388n.; with 388–389, 390n.); also Kablitz (Neuzeit 56); and subch. 2.6, herein. 272 By contrast to the “divine intellect”, “our cognition falls under the order of time, either per se or accidentally” (Aquinas 117, XIV.18–19, re 19a12; cf. Ammonius 96, §133.17–20, §133.25–27; 99, §136.15–20; 122n.–123n.; see Gaskin The Sea Battle 171–173; Mignucci 83n.–84n.; also 63, for what follows). Ever has humankind found pleasure in playing god. For the concept of (vectorial) time will ultimately be altogether alien to the most basic principle or structure of logic—a discipline built on the assumption that tautology amounts to identity. Yet “Wiederholung ist prinzipiell vom Wiederholten unterschieden” (Stierle “Moralistik” 2; Moralisten 278). 273 As to an influential commentator: “Boethius does not have an epistemic indeterminateness in mind” (Frede 45n.; with “On Interpret. 9” 151, §194.19–23; 156, §203.9–11; 160, §208.17–18, re 18a33; 183, §245.10–12, as to 19a27). Then again: “the outcome of […] things […] that are future and contingent […] is indefinite and uncertain, as unknown not only to us, but to nature” (“On Interpret. 9” 149, §192.2–5); i.e. “not only because of our ignorance but also by nature” (qtd. in: Mignucci 81n.). See the latter (64; 83n.); Sorabji (“deterministic” 10); Kretzmann (“Nos Ipsi” 27; 43n.–44n.; “sea battle” 31–32). Cf. Ammonius (102, §139.15–20, as to18a34); with Mignucci (63–

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processuality may be involved, issues are always resolvably certain in this— altogether manmade, artificial—system for ordering the world.274 Facts will be facts—tautology being the structure and objective of all logical operations. Such definitional depragmatization also—or ultimately—relates to Aristotle’s assumptions about being in the present, in actuality; more particularly, regarding the word ‘is’, or its infinitive. Within said framework, the philosopher’s ensuing statement will not only be plausible, but imperative (else the tautological routine would rend): “What is[,] must needs be[,] when it is; what is not[,] cannot be[,] when it is not” (“On Int.” 139, 19a, IX).275 || 64; 83n.). Kretzmann stresses: “only actual exceptions to […] necessitation and not mere limitations on knowledge will constitute an acceptable basis for contingency” (“Nos Ipsi” 27). 274 Consequently, the timeworn quarrel as to whether the Stagirite upholds bivalence, resp. tertium non datur, regarding future contingents is—strictly—a logical problem. Talanga denies that either is at issue (82). Boethius records that “some people – the Stoics among them – thought that Aristotle says that future contingents are neither true nor false” (“On Interpret. 9” 159–160, §208.2–3). Cf. Sharples (11–12); Normore (“Divine” 21n.); Ockham: “‘this will be’ […], according to the Philosopher, is neither true nor false” (“Comment. De int. 9” 108, as to 19a39–19b4; with 108n.; and “Summa log. III–3.32” 110). Similarly, Simplicius refers to the Platonist Nicostratus, who argues against the Stagirite: “[‘]For those statements which are inclined towards the future time are neither true nor false owing to the nature of the contingent. For neither ‘There will be a sea battle’ nor ‘There will not be a sea battle’ is true, but it will be as chance has it’” (150, §406.13– 16; with 213n. on Nicostratus). On Aristotle’s behalf, Simplicius counters: “The Peripatetics […] say that the sort of contradictory pair which has regard to the future is indeed true or false, but that which part of it will be true and which false is ungraspable in its nature and unstable […][;] [i.e.] not yet true nor false, but it will turn out one way or the other (estai de ê toia ê toia)” (151, §407.5–14). In a rhetorical view, none of the variations on the law of (non)contradiction—incl. structural dichotomism, non-simultaneity of opposites, etc.—are taken to apply unconditionally. For the most part, it will be prudent to exploit a belief in bivalence, tertium non datur: people commonly like the facile. In some settings, there is little or no use for such principles (see subchs. 4.2, 8.5.2, herein). Pretermitting the Sophistic and everyday, it would hardly have been beyond Aristotle to (performatively) leave the section (most) at issue open to interpretation: “οὐ μέντοι τόδε ἢ τόδε ἀλλ’ ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχε, καὶ μᾶλλον μὲν ἀληθῆ τὴν ἑτέραν, οὐ μέντοι ἤδη ἀληθῆ ἢ ψευδῆ” (“On Int.” 140, 19a, IX)—contingency in application, a mise en abyme of his take. For an affine suggestion, cf. Striker (163). The simplistic binaries typical of logic sensu stricto are operative in decontextualized milieus (only). To pragmatically defuse dualistic delusions, it is sufficient that there be even just one conceivable case, where ‘determinateness’ can never be reached for a matter of elsewiseness. It seems improbable that Aristotle would not have been alive to said state of play. With characteristic prudence, he might have deliberately withheld stating it outright— by tendering a formulation as may yield contingent interpretations. For “many general rules must be denied in this subject matter” (Ockham “Comment. De int. 9” 108, as to 19a39–19b4). 275 Temporality and potentiality qualify processuality: “That what is must be when ‘it is’ does not mean the same thing as to say that all things come about by necessity. And so, too, with that which is not” (“On Int.” 139, 19a, IX). See Sorabji (Necessity 21–22). At the segment’s end, Aristotle

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Outside this specific discipline, one may find remarks in direct contradiction thereof. The most notorious being: “Into the same rivers we step and do not step; we are and we are not [‘εἶμέν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶμεν’]” (Heracleitus 494–495, LXXXI; Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 161, 22B49a).276 Leaving metaphysical abysmalisms aside, an experienced rhétor would—rather likely—be able to discover sufficient ways and means for rendering this very remark not all that implausible.277

|| reiterates the above with regard to possibility (sensu lato): “the case of those things which as yet are potential [‘δυνατῶν’], not actually existent, is different from that of things actual. It is as we stated above” (“On Int.” 140–141, 19b, IX). In time, “the same thing may be and not be” (“On Int.” 157, 21b, XII). The reasoning is strictly logical—presupposing (a variation on) the axiom of (non)contradiction: “the same thing may be[,] and may not be. ‘It may be’ […] [and] ‘it cannot be’ […] being contradictory statements, [they] can never be both of them true of one subject at any one time” (“On Int.” 161, 21b–22a, XII). Aquinas comments on the above: “This necessity is founded on the principle that it is impossible at once to be and not be; […] everything that is must be when it is […]. This is not absolute necessity, but necessity by supposition” (122, XV.2, as to 19a27). He accentuates “the principle that it is impossible for contradictories to be at once true and false. Accordingly, it is impossible that a thing neither be nor not be; therefore it is necessary that it either be or not be” (122–123, XV.3, as to 19a27). In so many words (or those few as remain), Heracleitus contradicts this supposed “principle” quasi habitually; see the above quote. 276 Aristotle expressly excludes a capacity for noetically holding contingent options at once. ‘Simultaneously’ (“ἅμα”) “apprehend[ing] that the same thing both could and could not be otherwise [‘ὑπόληψιν τοῦ ἄλλως ἔχειν καὶ μὴ ἄλλως τὸ αὐτό’] […] is impossible [‘οὐκ ἐνδέχεται’]” (“Post. An.” 170–171, 89a–b, I.xxxiii). Cf. his words or thoughts on those of Heracleitus (Met. 1– 9. 160–163, 1005b–1006a, IV.iii.9–IV.iv.2; 188–189, 1010a, IV.v.18; plus Phys. 1–4. 16–17, 185a, I.ii; 17n.; Heavens 114–115, 281b, I.xii; “Refutations” 20–23, 166a, IV). Referring to the latter two loci, Frede logs: “though one possesses at the same time (hama) the capability to stand and sit[,] one cannot sit and stand at the same time. […] two possibilities cannot be realized at the same time” (70n.; cf. 74, 82–83). Aristotle notes that “[t]here are some […], who both state themselves that the same thing can be and not be, and say that it is possible to hold this view. Many even of the physicists adopt this theory” (Met. 1–9. 163, 1006a, IV.iv.1). Frede stresses: “Aristotle regards [the] L[aw of] E[xcluded] M[iddle] as a fundamental and exceptionless principle. He defends it […] with great energy against the Heracliteans [;] or rather, he forces them to acknowledge it as the basis of all human thought. […] Heracliteans do not doubt [the] P[rinciple of] B[ivalence], they want to maintain that both sides in an antiphasis are true. […] it is Aristotle’s aim to undermine that position” (82). As to Heracleitus (himself), the Stagirite counsels differentiating thought from word: “for what a man says does not necessarily represent what he believes” (Met. 1–9. 163, 1005b, IV.iii.10). The problem remains: what is utterable will be conceivable in principle—at least ex negativo (sc. reached, if not grasped). From a rhetorical perspective (with a view to psychagogic effectuality), this might often suffice, depending on the circumstances. Needless to say, Aristotle’s counter statement is also simply assertive (Met. 1–9. 162–163, 1006a, IV.iv.1–2). Generally as to the above, see subch. 11.1.1; plus the onset of ch. 13, herein. 277 In this view, the first Catonian qualification for an “orator” is but incidental to—not needful for—the requisite expressed in the second adjective: “vir bonus dicendi peritus” (in: Seneca the

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In logic, identical values must necessarily be identical, while not so with everything else (including their opposite): ‘one equals one’ (is not identical with the sequence ‘one equals the same’); ‘one’ does not—and can never—equal ‘zero’ (all tautologies semantically intended). Linguistically, in time and everyday experience, these and similar axioms— or normalized presuppositions—are not always (deemed) applicable; let alone necessarily. Even the extancy of something such as ‘identity’ may well seem dubious, if not inacceptable. More probably, one is dealing with apparent sameness(es); hence with difference—perhaps rhetorically concealed. Then again, ostensible variance might amount to a more fundamental similitude, or tentative equivalence (and so forth). Above all, the factual attainment of certainty—presumed by the discipline in question, and ensured by maximal decontextualization—is not usually (to say nothing of always) the case.278 In a human lifeworld, a rational approach will be the exception. From the angle of the everyday, logic is altogether ‘accidental’ (in Aristotle’s sense).279 || Elder Controv. 1–6. 8–11, 5M, 1.Pref.9; Quintilian Inst. Orat. 11–12. 196, 12.1.1; 196n.; with Inst. Orat. 1–2. 56, 1.Pro.9; cf. Cicero De Orat. I–II. 260–263, II.xx.85). See subchs. 11.1, 13.2, herein. 278 Not unlikely, this will be an ulterior motive for that long tradition of ‘tampering’ with the précis of section IX (“On Int.” 140–141, 19a). Most notoriously, Boethius: Aristotle “says that it is evident that it is not necessary that all affirmations and negations be definitely true. (‘Definitely’ is missing […], however, and so must be supplied in one’s understanding” (“On Interpret. 9” 145, §125.18–21, as to 19a32; cf. 144, §124.22–23, §125.7–9; 145, §126.9, §126.19–21; 155, §200.14–22; 157, §204.25; 159–160, §208.1–18; 180, §240.23–25; 183, §246.6–15); “ait: manifestum esse non necesse esse omnes adfirmationes et negationes definite veras esse (sed deest d e f i n i t e atque ideo subaudiendum est” (in: Kretzmann “sea battle” 45n.; cf. Notker der Deutsche 157, with 156, B174, ‘Notker latinus’). Incidentally, a sort of upgrade to this ‘ruse’ is provided by a (contextually amusing) gloss in Sorabji: “A ‘definitely’ was accidentally omitted […], and this at first concealed the merits”—while causing polemics (“backgrounds” 22n.; infinitized). Nor is the practice without currency: “The interpretation depends […] on understanding an implicit ‘determinately’ (aphôrismenôs)”—Gaskin is simply transferring Boethius to Simplicius (231n.). As to the Boethian construal, see Frede (44–45, 45n.); Talanga (145); Gaskin (The Sea Battle 15–17); Sharples (11–12, 11n.); Kretzmann (“Nos Ipsi” 24; passim; “sea battle” 26–28). For the Aquinate’s endorsement, cf. Wippel (219–220). Pertinently, Frede stresses: “even at the most crucial points Aristotle does not speak of ‘necessarily true’, for example at 19a38–[3]9” (47). See Sorabji: “Definite truth is deterministic or necessary” (“deterministic” 9). Needless to say, “Boethius” will be “a massive departure from Aristotle” in more than one way (“backgrounds” 17; with 21). 279 Cf. Schopenhauer: “Logik […] ist […] bloß das Wissen in abstracto Dessen, was Jeder in concreto weiß” (WWV I. 83, I.9). His resp. remarks—“die Logik [ist] nie von praktischem Nutzen, nur von theoretischem Interesse” (WWV I. 82, I.9; with 84; for a ‘technical’ qualification, 85)— culminate in this memorable dictum: “Praktischen Gebrauch von der Logik machen wollen, hieße also Das, was uns im Einzelnen unmittelbar mit der größten Sicherheit bewußt ist, erst mit unsäglicher Mühe aus allgemeinen Regeln ableiten wollen […][;] wer die Logik zu praktischen

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Dealing with the politico-rhetorical and pragmatico-ethical realm, the ensuing chapter cannot but start afresh: by taking up the familiar, hence effectual state of affairs; as well as the means and ways in which habitual valuations may be exploited and manipulated—being contingent.

|| Zwecken erlernt, gleicht dem, der einen Bieber zu seinem Bau abrichten will” (WWV I. 84, I.9; “der Biber errichtet einen Bau, dessen Zweck ihm unbekannt ist”, 225, II.28; spelling thus).

4 From Aristotle to Quintilian, and Beyond With a Discourse Historical and Taxonomic Synopsis Cogitat semper, qualis vita, non quanta sit. —Seneca (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.5)1

Considering millennia of (naturally futile) attempts at spiriting away the phenomenon, it may well seem that logic—like ontology, certain theologies— would prefer the inexistence of contingency. What amounts to a stumbling block—an offense or scandal—to the unworldly downright enables the crafty: Art [‘τέχνη’] and Prudence [‘φρόνησις’] are concerned [‘τυγχάνουσιν’] […] with things that admit of variation [‘περὶ τὰ ἐνδεχόμενα ἄλλως ἔχειν’]. (NE 340–341, 1140b–1141a, VI.vi.1)2

Facing assertions of changelessness (whether formalistic or metaphysical), their presumed truth may be prudently defused by an artfully polyfunctional query: cui bono.3 What counts as ‘goodness’ is bound to differ—like the involved.4 Makers and performers may freely display their condition of possibility in word and deed. For either deal with—and are—“matter [‘ὕλη’]”, whose shapes and surfaces “admit[…] of variation from the usual [‘ἡ ἐνδεχομένη παρὰ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ ἄλλως’]” (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11).5 Versatile téchnai allow for change and deviations; certain epistemai non sensu stricto, as well.6

|| 1 Approx. ‘(S)he ever thinks of life’s quality, not its quantity’; somewhat more literally, ‘(S)he ever thinks: ‘of what kind or make (be) life’; not, ‘how much (life) be (there)’’ (trans. dsm). 2 Perhaps, “τυγχάνουσιν” may be trans. ‘aim at’, here. Rolfes/Bien have: “Kunst und Klugheit bewegen sich um solches, was sich anders verhalten kann” (Nikomach. Ethik 137). See Talanga: “Im allgemeinen hält Aristoteles den Bereich des Kontingenten (ἐνδέχεται μὴ γενέσθαι) für den genuinen Bereich menschlichen Handelns” (32). Cf. Ross: “in human action, at all events, there is an actual contingency” (188–189; with 201); “in human action […], Aristotle recognises a […] contingency which can never become an object of knowledge” sensu stricto (164; and 80–81). 3 A revealing line: “necessary, as the determinist wants it to be” (Sorabji “deterministic” 4). Cf. Lausberg (Handbuch 93, §158–159); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 124n.; 190); (sub)chs. 3.1, 11.2.2, 13. 4 Rarely will a logician’s unease (and choice of age-old remedy) be so plain: “truth is a totally temporal notion […]. Notwithstanding its simplicity, one might find this position unpalatable […] and […] prefer to think of truth as something […] not completely given in time” (Mignucci 72; “the notion of truth as in some sense an atemporally determinable notion”, 84n.). 5 Cf. “this ‘in actuality’ and ‘in potentiality’ comes from matter. For […] matter is susceptible to contrariety” (Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 178, §238.9–11, as to 19a9). Aquinas: “the reason for the possibility and contingency in the things we do [is] […] that we deliberate, and in other[…]s […] that matter is in potency to either of two opposites” (113–114, XIV.8, after 19a12). See subch. 3.5. 6 Rigorously, ‘epistéme’ seems to denote (only) such disciplines as advance ‘apodeictically’, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-004

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Themselves “made of” mutable “stuff” outright (Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 320, III.iv.36), the ‘poietic’, ‘pragmatic’ handle diverse, shifting, alterable materials: The class of things that admit of variation includes both things made and actions done [‘Τοῦ δ’ ἐνδεχομένου ἄλλως ἔχειν ἔστι τι καὶ ποιητὸν καὶ πρακτόν’]. (NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.1)7

Enabled, even empowered, by the relative contingency of matter, the former are agents in the productive sense, seeing that they habitually fabricate tangible— static or portable, physically exchangeable—effects: Art deals with bringing something into existence; and to pursue an art means to study how to bring into existence a thing which may either exist or not [‘τῶν ἐνδεχομένων καὶ εἶναι καὶ μὴ εἶναι’], and the efficient cause of which lies in the maker[.] (NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.4)8

|| deductively: “ἡ […] ἐπιστήμη ἐστὶν ἕξις ἀποδεικτική” (NE 332–333, 1139b, VI.iii.4; with 336–337, 1140a, VI.iv.3; 340–341, 1140b–1141a, VI.vi.1; cf. “Demonstration in Aristotle means proof by deduction”, 332n.; “Post. An.” 28–31, 71b, I.ii). “Scientific Knowledge is a mode of conception [‘ὑπόληψις’] dealing with universals and things that are of necessity” (NE 340–341, 1140b, VI.vi.1). Cf. Ross: “Knowledge is of the necessary, opinion of the contingent” (49). When using “ἐπιστήμη” sensu stricto (“ἀκριβολογεῖσθαι”), Aristotle stresses that “a thing which we know scientifically [‘ὃ ἐπιστάμεθα’] cannot vary [‘μὴ ἐνδέχεσθαι ἄλλως ἔχειν’] […]. An object of Scientific Knowledge […] exists of necessity. It is […] eternal” (NE 333, 1139b, VI.iii.2). He does recognize “analogous uses [‘ταῖς ὁμοιότησιν’]” of the term (NE 333, 1139b, VI.iii.2). Cf. subch. 3.6, herein. Von Fritz observes: “die Sophisten […] [i]ndem sie diesen [‘politischen’] know how zuerst als τέχνη, dann auch als ἐπιστήμη bezeichneten, dehnten […] den Geltungsbereich dieses Begriffes auf die politische Sphäre aus. Inhaltlich kann man diese Art der ἐπιστήμη als die Kunst der Menschenbehandlung im weitesten Sinne bezeichnen” (“Rückwendung” 233). 7 Cf. “It is especially in circumstances that admit of more than one result [‘ἐνδέχεται καὶ ὧδε καὶ ἄλλως’], when the process is not due to chance [‘μὴ ἀπὸ τύχης’], so that the end [‘τὸ τέλος’] is some good, that design [‘ἕνεκά του’] occurs; it may be either natural [‘φύσει’] or artificial [‘τέχνῃ’]. No designed result is due to chance [‘ἀπὸ τύχης δ’ οὐδὲν ἕνεκά του γίγνεται’]” (“Post. An.” 216–219, 95a, II.xi; plus “Poetics” 62–63, 1452a, §9); “all artificial things are generated […] by mind [‘ὑπὸ νοῦ’]; for the art is the form [‘ἡ γὰρ τέχνη τὸ εἶδος’] […]; that is, if the generation is not accidental [‘ἐὰν μὴ κατὰ συμβεβηκὸς γίγνηται’]” (Met. 1–9. 350–351, 1034a, VII.ix.3; see 338–341, 1032b, VII.vii.6–8). Here, téchne and eidos are correlated; the ‘automatic’ or týche appear contrastive (cf. Met. 1–9. 340–341, 1032b, VII.vii.8; 350–351, 1034a, VII.ix.3). 8 See Ross (“manipulation of the contingent”, 216; with 217); and Tredennick’s general gloss: “τέχνη is [‘often’] used […] to cover the sense of productive (as opposed to theoretical) science” (“Post. An.” 24n.). Bubner stresses: “Die klassische Ästhetik lebt[…] aus dem Werkgedanken […]. Das Ergon, so Aristoteles, bildet das Ziel der Techne” (“Ästhetische Erfahrung” 38).

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While their fallouts are typically not palpable as discrete entities (sculptures, edifices), performers handling the practico-prudential—rhetorico-deliberative, moral philosophical—realm likewise manage affairs susceptible of contingency: Practical Thought [‘φρόνησις’] is concerned […] with the world of changing phenomena [‘περὶ τὰ ἐν μεταβολῇ ὄντα’]. (“Magna Mor.” 562–563, 1197a, I.xxxiv.16)9 [M]atters of conduct admit of variation [‘ἐνδέχεται τὸ πρακτὸν ἄλλως ἔχειν’][.] (NE 336– 337, 1140b, VI.v.3; with 76–77, 1104a, II.ii.3)10

So do thoughts, the “stuff / As dreams are made on” (Shakespeare Tem 254, IV.i.156–157).11 Aristotle logs a basic nexus of noetic processes and contingency:

|| 9 Cf. “matters of conduct and expediency have nothing fixed or invariable about them [‘τὰ δ’ ἐν ταῖς πράξεσι καὶ τὰ συμφέροντα οὐδὲν ἑστηκὸς ἔχει’] […][;] particular cases of conduct […] come under no science [‘οὔτε (…) ὑπὸ τέχνην’] or professional tradition, but the agents themselves have to consider what is suited to the circumstances on each occasion [‘δεῖ δ’ αὐτοὺς ἀεὶ τοὺς πράττοντας τὰ πρὸς τὸν καιρὸν σκοπεῖν’] […][;] although the discussion […] is thus necessarily inexact, we must do our best to help it out” (NE 76–77, II.ii.3–5); “the whole theory of conduct [‘πᾶς ὁ περὶ τῶν πρακτῶν λόγος’] is bound to be an outline [‘τύπῳ’] only and not an exact [‘οὐκ ἀκριβῶς’] system” (NE 74–75,1104a, II.ii.3); “we deliberate more about the arts [‘περὶ τὰς τέχνας’] […] because we are more uncertain about them” (NE 136–137, 1112b, III.iii.9; plus Rackham’s problematic gloss at 136n.; NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.3–6; qtd. in subch. 4.1). Aquinas logs: “counsel is not concerned with things that take place necessarily but only with contingent things, […] which can be or not be” (110, XIV.2, re 19a6; see 120, XIV.24, after 19a12). Cf. Cosentino: “phronesis schließt […] den Anspruch konsequenter Wissenschaftlichkeit aus, insofern sie nicht epistéme ist” (19). “Phronesis [‘hat’] mit […] Kontingenz zu tun […]. Beide Begriffe/Konzepte bilden den Humus des Handelns. Phronesis und Kontingenz sind […] die fundamentalen Begriffe einer jeden praktischen Konzeption des Wissens” (39; with 183). 10 Cf. Ross (188); Sharples: “responsible actions – […] which ‘depend on us’ […] – involve the possibility of choosing otherwise” (6; as to Aristotle NE 142–145, 1113b, III.v.1–7). See Bubner: “Handeln vermag sich nur dort zu vollziehen, wo die Dinge auch anders sein können” (Geschichtsprozesse 38). A (heuristic) distinction between doing (praxis, tà praktà, phrónesis) and making (poíesis, tà poietà, téchne): “craftsmanship [‘τὸ τεχνάζειν’] being manifested in what is made [‘ἐν (…) τοῖς ποιητοῖς’] rather than in what is done [‘ἐν τοῖς πρακτοῖς’]” (“Magna Mor.” 561, 1197a, I.xxxiv.10; with 558–561, 1197a, I.xxxiv.9–10, 560n.); “doing and making are generically different [‘ἄλλο τὸ γένος πράξεως καὶ ποιήσεως’], since making aims at an end distinct from the act of making, whereas in doing the end cannot be other than the act itself: doing well [‘εὐπραξία’] is in itself the end” (NE 337, 1140b, VI.v.3; cf. “Magna Mor.” 558–561, 1197a, I.xxxiv.9–10; 560n.). Cosentino’s ‘definition’ of “Phronesis” may seem to amalgamate the difference (in a sense): “eine Ingenieurskunst des Willens, […] Rationalität in actu” (62). 11 Cf. Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 306–309, 1027b, VI.iv.2–3; 352–353, 1034b, VII.ix.6–8); as cited in subch. 3.5; see also 4.3, herein. Sorabji logs “that thoughts in the mind are the primary bearers of truth-value” (Necessity 98n.; referring to Aristotle “On Int.” 114–115, 16a, I).

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Conception [‘ὑπόληψίς’] is that faculty by which we hold different opinions on all kinds of subjects, conceiving that they are so, or that they are otherwise [‘πρὸς τὸ καὶ εἶναι ταῦτα οὕτω καὶ μὴ εἶναι’]. (“Magna Mor.” 562–563, 1197a, I.xxxiv.15; plus 562n.)12

Along with tentative and thinkable elseness, this would also include the diverse views of others—counting those on the part of prior selves. In virtual, material (not to mention further) respects, humans are ambulant contingencies per se.13 Coping with random, mutable matters calls for induction.14 Rhetoric, moral philosophy share this take.15 By and large, epagogé advances from singulars or

|| 12 (See “Magna Mor.” 558, 1196b, I.xxxiv.7; 558n.; and NE 332–333, 1139b, VI.iii.1; 340–341, 1140b, VI.vi.1). Cf. “ἐνδεχόμενον δὲ καὶ ἄλλως ἔχειν”; “ὑπόληψις τῆς ἀμέσου προτάσεως καὶ μὴ ἀναγκαίας” (“Post. An.” 166, 89a, I.xxxiii). In said section (“Post. An.” 166–171, 88b–89b, I.xxxiii), ‘ὑπόληψις’ seems to be used as a general term relating to cognitive ‘uptake’. Usually, Tredennick gives it as “apprehension” (“Post. An.” 167, 171), or the resp. verb (“Post. An.” 169, 171); once as “assumption” (“Post. An.” 167). Rolfes has “Annahme”, else the verb (“Zweite Analytik” 65–67); and renders the above thus: “Meinung ist die Annahme der unmittelbaren und nicht notwendigen Prämisse” (“Zweite Analytik” 66, 89a, I.33). Generally: “if knowledge is a conceiving [‘εἰ ἡ ἐπιστήμη ὑπόληψις’], then the knowable is conceivable [‘καὶ τὸ ἐπιστητὸν ὑποληπτόν’]” (“Top.” 366–367, 114a, II.viii). On said concept, cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim; spec. 239n.–241n.); as to its nexus with contingency, subch. 5.2.1, herein. 13 See also subchs. 4.4, 6.5, 8.5.2, and (spec.) 13.5, herein. 14 Concerning induction and contingency, cf. ch. 5 (predominantly 5.2.1), herein. Vogt sees ‘Aristotle recommending’ “situationsabhängiges Räsonnieren […] praktische Intelligenz und eine prudentielle Form von Tychebewältigungspraxis” (126; with 128, 136). 15 As to epagogé in ethics, see Aristotle (spec. NE 12–13, 1095a–b, I.iv.5–7; 360–363, 1143b, VI.xi.4); “in practical [‘ἐν ταῖς πρακτικαῖς’] inferences[,] it [sc. ‘ὁ νοῦς’] apprehends the ultimate [‘τοῦ ἐσχάτου’] and contingent [‘καὶ ἐνδεχομένου’] fact, and the minor premise, since these are the first principles [‘ἀρχαὶ’] from which the end [‘τοῦ οὗ ἕνεκα’] is inferred, as general rules [‘τὰ καθόλου’] are based on particular cases [‘ἐκ τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστα’]; hence we must have perception [‘αἴσθησιν’] of particulars, and this immediate perception is Intelligence [‘νοῦς’]” (NE 360–363, 1143a–b, VI.xi.4). Rackham’s pertinent gloss: “the establishment of ethical ἀρχαί by induction […] is the proper method of ethics” (NE 361n.). On rhetorical epagogé, see Aristotle (“Prior An.” 512–513, 68a, II.xxiii; 513n.; “Post. An.” 24–25, 71a, I.i); “the proof from a number of particular [‘τὸ ἐπὶ πολλῶν’, and similar, ‘καὶ ὁμοίων’] cases that such is the rule, is called in Dialectic induction [‘ἐπαγωγή’], in Rhetoric example [‘παράδειγμα’]” (Rhet. 20–21, 1356b, I.ii.9; cf. 18–21, 1356a–b, I.ii.8–10; 28–29, 1357b, I.ii.19; with Bubner Antike Themen 120; Waldenfels 189). It is not clear why Freese omits trans. ‘homoíon’—a decisive adjective (here). Contrast: “der Beweis, es verhalte sich etwas an Hand von Vielem und Ähnlichem so, [‘ist’] dort [i.e. in dialectic] die Induktion, hier aber [sc. in rhetoric] das Beispiel” (Rhet. [Sieveke] 15). “Der anhand vieler ähnlicher Fälle geführte Nachweis, etwas verhalte sich so, ist in der Dialektik ein Induktionsbeweis, in der Rhetorik ein Beispiel” (Rhet. [Krapinger] 14); “to show on the basis of many similar instances that something is so is in dialectic induction, in rhetoric paradigm” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 40). Also Roberts: “When we base the proof of a proposition on a number of

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specifics to something (more) universal.16 As per Aristotle, one will always initially proceed from what is at hand—including circumstances, contexts: the particular has more authority than the general for practical purposes [‘κυριώτερα (…) ἐστι πρὸς τὴν χρείαν τῶν καθόλου τὰ καθ’ ἕκαστα τῶν πραγμάτων’]. (Rhet. 272–273, 1393a, II.xix.27)

|| similar cases, this is induction in dialectic, example in rhetoric” (“Rhetorica” 1356b, I.2). See Ross (41); plus subch. 4.2, herein. In ethics, oratory, affine arts or faculties, this basic process relies on the impact of likelihood: “a thing is more probable [‘εἰκὸς μᾶλλον’], the greater the number of similar cases” (Rhet. 340–341, 1403a, II.xxv.11); “the probable being not what occurs invariably but only for the most part [‘τὸ δὲ εἰκὸς οὐ τὸ ἀεὶ ἀλλὰ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’] […], and that which is only true for the most part is always liable to objection [‘ἔνστασιν’]” (Rhet. 338– 339, 1402b, II.xxv.8 and §10). Ever is plausibility contingent. Cf. subch. 8.3.2, herein. Should particulars seem similar, such will induce a general appearance qua probable (Rhet. 20–21, 1356b, I.ii.9). Withal, the impression of likeness may be crafted—rhetorically, by accommodatio (see Rhet. 126–127, 1371b, I.xi.25–26; plus 254–255, 1390a, II.xiii.16). Cf. ch. 13, herein. 16 See the thorough study by von Fritz, tendering “eine Phänomenologie der verschiedenen Arten der ‘faktischen’ Induktion” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 674; with 669, 676; passim; spec. 623, 626, 633, 640–641, 647–649, 652–654, 661, 663, 665, 667, 674–676); “die ἐπαγωγή im technischen Sinne [‘wird’] von Aristoteles definiert als Hinweg vom Einzelnen zum Allgemeinen. […] In der […] Umgangssprache heißt ἐπάγειν: heranführen, heranbringen. […] der Prozeß kann als ein Hinführen zum Allgemeinen, aber auch als ein Heranbringen des Allgemeinen vermittels des Speziellen verstanden werden” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 640). “Gemeinsam ist allen […][A]rten der ἐπαγωγή […], daß durch Heranführen an einen Einzelfall oder an Einzelfälle eine (wirkliche oder auch nur vermeintliche) Einsicht in einen allgemeinen […] Zusammenhang erzielt wird” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 663). See Ross (38–41; 54–55): “The root nature of induction seems to be […] that it is the ‘leading on’ [‘ἐπάγειν’] of one person by another from particular knowledge to universal” (40, with 40n.). Cf. Bubner: “Das Verhältnis der Einzelinstanz zum Allgemeinen ist das einer Hinführung” (Antike Themen 120). Generally, Aristotle stresses: “no doubt it is proper to start from the known. […] for us at all events it is proper to start from what is known to us [‘ἀπὸ τῶν ἡμῖν γνωρίμων’]” (NE 12–13, 1095b, I.iv.5); “it must be by induction [‘ἐπαγωγῇ’] that we acquire knowledge of the primary premises, because this is also the way in which general concepts [‘τὸ καθόλου’] are conveyed to us [‘ἐμποιεῖ’] by sense-perception” (“Post. An.” 260– 261, 100b, II.xix); “all teaching starts from facts previously known […][;] induction supplies a first principle or universal [‘ἡ μὲν δὴ ἐπαγωγὴ ἀρχῆς ἐστι καὶ τοῦ καθόλου’], deduction works from universals; […] first principles […] are reached by induction” (NE 332–333, 1139b, VI.iii.3). “It is convenient to advance to the more intelligible [sc. in and of itself]; for learning is always acquired in this way, by advancing through what is less intelligible by nature to what is more so” (Met. 1–9. 319, 1029b, VII.iv.2; with 318n.). Tredennick glosses: “All learning proceeds by induction from that which is intelligible to us ([…] the complex facts and objects of our experience, which are bound up with sensation and therefore less intelligible in themselves), to that which is intelligible in itself ([…] the simple universal principles of scientific knowledge)” (Met. 1–9. 318n.). With Trimpi (Muses 91n.; 122; 232–233; “Reason” 108). For a contextual treatment of this process and pertinent passages, see subch. 5.2.1, herein.

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[W]hat we perceive must be a particular thing at a particular place and time [‘τόδε τι καὶ ποὺ καὶ νῦν’]. (“Post. An.” 156–157, 87b, I.xxxi)

Being nonspatial and atemporal, decontextualized universals are imperceptible, in a sense.17 Inductively speaking, (virtually attaining to) the kathólou is quasi katà symbebekós: it occurs in passing; and never sans fundamentum in re.18 While not generally incapacitated to be conceiving thereof all the same, the initial givens for a human animal are ever impressions: the senses [sc. ‘αἰσθήσεις’] […] are […] our chief sources of knowledge about particulars [‘τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστα γνώσεις’], but they do not tell us the reason [‘τὸ διὰ τί’] for anything[.] (Met. 1–9. 6–7, 981b, I.i.13, plus I.i.14)19

|| 17 “a universal term of general application cannot be perceived by the senses, because it is not a particular thing or at a given time; if it were, it would not be universal; for we describe as universal only that which obtains always and everywhere [‘τὸ γὰρ ἀεὶ καὶ πανταχοῦ καθόλου φαμὲν εἶναι’]” (“Post. An.” 156–157, 87b, I.xxxi). In a most elemental respect, the latter will be antithetical to chancefulness: “Kontingenz […] läßt sich gerade durch […] Konstanten partiell überwinden” (Kablitz Neuzeit 39n.). While the kathólou could thus be described as an antidote to (the ‘indefiniteness’ of) týche (cf. e.g. “Top.” 414–415, 120a, III.vi), such might be down to their virtual affinity: “the Infinite [‘τὸ δ’ ἄπειρον’] does not exist potentially [‘δυνάμει’] in the sense that it will ever exist separately [‘χωριστόν’] in actuality [‘ἐνεργείᾳ’]; it is separable only in knowledge [‘γνώσει’]” (Met. 1–9. 446–447, 1048b, IX.vi.6). This correlates with the next n. 18 From the stance and angle of a particular case at hand, the universal is ‘accidental’, an accompaniment: “it is not man [‘ἄνθρωπον’] that the physician cures, except incidentally [‘πλὴν ἀλλ’ ἢ κατὰ συμβεβηκός’], but Callias or Socrates or some other person […], who is incidentally [‘συμβέβηκε’] a man [‘ἀνθρώπῳ’] as well” (Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.8); “the proximate principles are not universal. For it is the particular that is the principle of particulars; ‘man’ in general is the principle of ‘man’ in general, but there is no such person as ‘man’” (“Met. 10–14” 137, 1071a, XII.v.4); “your matter and form and moving cause being different from mine, although in their universal formula they are the same” (“Met. 10–14” 139, 1071a, XII.v.5). Cf. “whereas Socrates regarded neither universals [‘τὰ καθόλου’] nor definitions as existing in separation [‘οὐ χωριστὰ’], the Idealists gave them a separate existence, and […] the name of Ideas [‘ἰδέας’]” (“Met. 10–14” 196–197, 1078b, XIII.iv.5; with Met. 1–9. 446–447, 1048b, IX.vi.6; as cited above). See von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 652–654; “Das ἄπειρον” 681); Bröcker (253–254); Trimpi (“Winters” 200); Blumenberg (Beiträge 128); Kablitz (“Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 608), spec. “Nur das Einzelne existiert aus nominalistischer Sicht” (Neuzeit 18). See Ross: “Where a sense is lacking, a science will also be lacking, since the universal truths from which science proceeds are got by induction from sense-perceptions” (48). 19 Cf. von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 641; 650; 652; 662). “Induction [‘ἐπαγωγὴ’] is the progress from particulars to universals”; “is more convincing [‘πιθανώτερον’] […] clear [‘σαφέστερον’] […] easily grasped by sense-perception [‘κατὰ τὴν αἴσθησιν γνωριμώτερον’] […] shared by the majority of people [‘τοῖς πολλοῖς κοινόν’][;] but reasoning is more cogent and […] efficacious against argumentative opponents [‘πρὸς τοὺς ἀντιλογικοὺς’]” (“Top.” 302–303, 105a, I.xii).

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With a view to retracing causalities, perceptible effects provide a starting point: “ἀρχὴ γὰρ τὸ ὅτι” (NE 12, 1095b, I.iv.7).20 The process continues as follows: by observing repeated instances we […] succeed[…] in grasping the universal […]; because it is from the repetition of particular experiences that we obtain our view of the universal [‘τὸ καθόλου’]. The value of the universal is that it exhibits the cause [‘τὸ δὲ καθόλου τίμιον, ὅτι δηλοῖ τὸ αἴτιον’]. (“Post. An.” 158–159, 88a, I.xxxi)21

Then again, recurring aisthéseis will conduce to a pragmatic kind of familiarity with the things of this world—quasi en passant.22 Via incidental discoveries— || What “is prior in nature [‘φύσει’] is not the same as” what “is prior in relation to us [‘πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]”; what “is ‹naturally› more knowable is not the same as” what “is more knowable by us [‘ἡμῖν’]. […] The most universal concepts [‘τὰ καθόλου’] are furthest from our perception”; “particulars [‘τὰ καθ’ ἕκαστα’] are nearest to it” (“Post. An.” 30–33, 71b, I.ii); “syllogism by means of the middle is prior and more knowable; […] induction is more apparent to us [‘ἡμῖν’]” (“Prior An.” 515, 68b, II.xxiii). Cf. Tredennick: “the abstract logical process is from universal to particular, but the human mind proceeds from particular to universal” (“Prior An.” 515n.). Bubner: “Aus den Einzeldaten der Wahrnehmung baut sich ein Allgemeinbegriff auf” (Antike Themen 121). For a significative gloss and application, see Krauthausen (53n.; with 64). 20 A key dictum for Aristotle’s noetic ground swell: “the starting-point or first principle is the fact that a thing is so” (NE 13, 1095b, I.iv.7); “the formula and knowledge of the actual must precede the knowledge of the potential” (Met. 1–9. 455, 1049b, IX.viii.3). Rhetorically: “the example resembles induction [‘ὅμοιον (…) ἐπαγωγῇ τὸ παράδειγμα’]”, being “a beginning [‘ἡ δ’ ἐπαγωγὴ ἀρχή’]” (Rhet. 272–273, 1393a, II.xx.2). In a methodical mise en abyme, von Fritz logs: “Wo immer […] von der ἐπαγωγή die Rede ist, geht er […] von dem Phänomen der Induktion aus, d. h. von der beobachtbaren und erprobbaren Tatsache, daß es möglich ist, jemanden dadurch, daß man ihn an einen einzelnen Fall ‘heranführt’ oder […] auf mehrere analoge Fälle aufmerksam macht, dazu zu bringen, einen allgemein[…]en Zusammenhang wirklich oder vermeintlich einzusehen” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 665; cf. 669, 674–676). See subch. 4.2. On the above, Waldenfels: “Beschreibung durch Erklärung […] heißt die sinnhafte Entfaltung des Daß durch die kausale Rückführung auf ein Warum zu ersetzen. Gegen ein solch phänomenwidriges Hysteron-Proteron hat […] Aristoteles protestiert” (175). Needless to say, “it makes a great difference whether things happen because of [‘διὰ’], or only after [‘μετὰ’], their antecedents” (“Poetics” 64–65, 1452a, §10; with 122–123, 1460a, §24). Cf. the onset of ch. 2; plus 2.2, herein. 21 See von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 652–654); Ross (54–55); Bubner (Antike Themen 121); Trimpi (“Winters” 200–201; 203n.). Aristotle continues: “in considering facts of this kind which have a cause other than themselves, knowledge of the universal is more valuable [‘τιμιωτέρα’] than perception by the senses or [noesis] [‘τῶν αἰσθήσεων καὶ τῆς νοήσεως’]” (“Post. An.” 158–159, 88a, I.xxxi); “perception must be concerned with particulars [‘καθ’ ἕκαστον’]”; “knowledge [‘ἐπιστήμη’] depends upon recognition of the universal [‘τὸ καθόλου’]” (“Post. An.” 158–159, 87b, I.xxxi). Chances are circumstantial. Logic could not treat them adequately (if it tried). 22 Human beings tend to “obtain knowledge […] by the habitual practice of induction [‘τῆς ἐπαγωγῆς συνηθείᾳ πειρατέον’]” (“Top.” 306–307, 105b, I.xiv; cf. Bubner Antike Themen 121); “by induction of particulars on the basis of similarities [‘ἐπὶ τῶν ὁμοίων’] […] we infer the

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followed by various processes of trial and error—a relative conversancy might be attained.23 In this respect, Aristotle adduces a sententia ascribed to Polus: ἡ μὲν γὰρ ἐμπειρία τέχνην ἐποίησην […] ἡ δ’ ἀπειρία τύχην. ‘experience produces art, but inexperience chance’. (cited at: Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.5; see 5n.)24

At all events, contingency remains the bottom line. For art—like a lack thereof— || universal” (“Top.” 326–327, 108b, I.xviii); “it is by taking all of these [sc. ‘the sum of particular instances’] into account that induction proceeds” (“Prior An.” 515, 68b, II.xxiii; cf. 516–517, 69a, II.xxiv); “perception gives rise to memory […] repeated memories [‘μνήμης πολλάκις’] of the same thing [‘τοῦ αὐτοῦ’] give rise to experience [‘ἐμπειρία’]; […] the memories, though numerically many [‘πολλαὶ’], constitute a single [‘μία’] experience. […] experience, that is the universal [‘τοῦ καθόλου’] when established as a whole […]—the One that corresponds to the Many [‘τοῦ ἑνὸς παρὰ τὰ πολλά’], the unity that is identically [‘τὸ αὐτο’] present in them all— provides the starting-point [‘ἀρχὴ’] of art [‘τέχνης’] and science [‘ἐπιστήμης’]: art in the world of process [‘περὶ γένεσιν’] and science in the world of facts [‘περὶ τὸ ὄν’]. Thus these faculties [‘ἕξεις’] […] arise from sense-perception [‘ἀπὸ αἰσθήσεως’] […][;] although it is the particular [‘τὸ καθ’ ἕκαστον’] that we perceive, the act of perception [‘αἴσθησις’] involves the universal [‘τοῦ καθόλου’]” (“Post. An.” 256–259, 100a–b, II.xix). See Trimpi (Muses 87–88; 91–92; 122; “Winters” 200–201); Bubner (Antike Themen 121–122); spec. subch. 5.2.1; also 2.1, 3.3, herein. 23 Cf. “In their experiments, it was not art but chance [‘οὐκ ἀπὸ τέχνης ἀλλ’ ἀπὸ τύχης’] that made the poets discover [‘εὗρον’] how to produce such effects in their plots” (“Poetics” 78–79, 1454a, §15). See Lausberg’s expedient précis of the process: “Ist der mit der natürlichen Anlage [A]usgestattete […] in der betreffenden Handlung noch unerfahren (ἄπειρος […]), so ist er […] auf den Zufall (τύχη) angewiesen. Das erste Kunstwerk (ἔργον, opus) entsteht […] auf Grund der φύσις (natura) durch ἀπειρία und τύχη. Der Zufall weist die […] Einzelhandlungen auf, die zum (zufälligen) Erfolg […] führen. Die Wiederholung dieses nur festgestellten, nicht verstandenen Handlungszusammenhangs führt zur ‘Erfahrung’ (ἔμπειρος […]). In der ἐμπειρία wird die τύχη in bewährte Bahnen gelenkt. […] eine ars (τέχνη) [‘ist’] ein System aus der Erfahrung […] gewonnener, […] nachträglich […] durchdachter, lehrhafter Regeln zur […] Durchführung einer auf Vollkommenheit zielenden, […] wiederholbaren Handlung, die nicht zum naturnotwendigen Geschehensablauf gehört und nicht dem Zufall überlassen werden soll” (Handbuch 25–26, §2–3). “Kunst […] ist ein System aus Erfahrung (ἐμπειρία, usus)” (Elemente 20, §28). “‘Kunst’ (τέχνη, ars) ist die handelnd erprobte Fähigkeit (δύναμις, facultas; ἕξις, firma facilitas, habitus) eines Menschen zur erfolgreichen, wiederholbaren Vollbringung von […] konventionell als sozial relevant geltenden […] (Arbeits-) Leistungen, die auf Vollkommenheit (ἀρετή, virtus) zielen, jedoch weder dem naturnotwendigen GeschehensAblauf (φύσις, natura) angehören noch dem Zufall (τύχη, casus) überlassen werden noch […] als […] Wunder (τέρατα, prodigia, miracula) anzusehen sind” (Elemente 20, §28). 24 Taken from Plato (“Gorgias” 262–263, 448C; see 310–311, 462C). Cf. Lausberg (Elemente 25n.–26n.); the onset of ch. 13, herein. As per Aristotle, knowledge reached by a methodical approach differs fundamentally—structurally, spec. in terms of stability—from such as has been chanced upon (see NE 332–335, 1139b, VI.iii.4; with Plato “Theaetetus” 224–225, 202B–C).

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both “deal with that which admits of variation [‘περὶ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον ἄλλως ἔχειν’]” (NE 336–337, 1140a, VI.iv.6; plus 335). Nor will life’s veterans seem all that disposed to discount chance, or otherwiseness more generally.25 Even so, the (re)collections of random, empirical data—taken up by, along the way—are not unlikely to serve as a utile fund of “raw material” (Lausberg Handbuch 479, §978; trans. dsm)—tilting the odds of success in one’s favor.26 Yet unqualified quantities will not of themselves amount to skillful competence: the experienced [‘οἱ (…) ἔμπειροι’] know the fact [‘τὸ ὅτι’], but not the wherefore; but the artists know the wherefore [‘τὸ διότι’] and the cause [‘αἰτίαν’]. […] the master craftsmen [‘τοὺς ἀρχιτέκτονας’] in every profession are more estimable […], because they know the reasons of the things which are done[.] (Aristotle Met. 1–9. 6–7, 981a, I.i.11)27

Withal, an awareness as to grounds and (typical) fallouts facilitates conveying the respective modi operandi to others—practically, verbally, virtually.28 || 25 “Older men […] always ‘think’, but ‘know’ nothing”; “in their hesitation [‘ἀμφισβητοῦντες’] they always add ‘perhaps [‘ἴσως’]’, or ‘maybe [‘τάχα’]’; all their statements are of this kind, never unqualified [‘παγίως δ’ οὐδέν’]” (Rhet. 250–251, 1389b, II.xiii.2; see Blank’s gloss at Ammonius 121n.). A premeditated use of ‘perchance’ will tend to be a fruit of experience: everything is contingent—might be other than it is; or was. 26 Cf. “it is through experience [‘διὰ τῆς ἐμπειρίας’] that men acquire science [‘ἐπιστήμη’] and art [‘τέχνη’] […]. Art is produced when from many notions of experience [‘ἐκ πολλῶν τῆς ἐμπειρίας ἐννοημάτων’] a single universal [‘μία καθόλου’] judgement [‘ὑπόληψις’] is formed with regard to like objects [‘περὶ τῶν ὁμοίον’]” (Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.5; as to “what makes a unity out of a plurality”, see 415, 1044a, VIII.iii.11; with “Post. An.” 256–261, 100a–b, II.xix). Cf. Lausberg: “ein Naturphänomen (natura)” is “noch keine Kunst (ars)”; for most things are “dem casus überlassen […]. Die ars benutzt diesen Zustand als Rohstoff: sie bringt durch Regeln Ordnung […]. Die ars begrenzt durch einen kunstgerechten […] den ungeregelt-chaotischen Ablauf” (Handbuch 479, §978; infinitized, the context being on prosody, meter, etc.). 27 “Art [‘τέχνη’] […] is a rational quality [‘ἕξις τις μετὰ λόγου’], concerned with making [‘ποιητική’], that reasons truly [‘ἀληθοῦς’]” (NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.6; restated from VI.iv.3). The trans. of ‘héxis’ might seem misleading (here). Mayhap rather: ‘a habit, disposition, set behavior (Einstellung) enacting a certain rationale’. Freese gives “ἐπιστήμη” (“science”) as “opposed to τέχνη, a system or set of rules, and to ἐμπειρία, experience, knack, without knowledge of principles” (“Glossary” 476; cf. Rhet. 3n.). Then again, “we see men of experience succeeding [‘ἐπιτυγχάνοντας’] more than those who have theory without experience” (Met. 1– 9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.7); “experience [‘ἐμπειρία’] is knowledge [‘γνῶσις’] of particulars [‘τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστόν’], but art [‘τέχνη’] of universals [‘τῶν καθόλου’]; and actions [‘πράξεις’] and the effects produced are all concerned with the particular” (Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.8). Cf. Lausberg: “Die ars lehrt nur das Allgemeine, das Besondere muß der durch die ars geschulte Praktiker selbst finden” (Handbuch 202, §374; with Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 418–419, 5.10.103). Any téchne may serve heuristic purposes (inter alia); it does—can, and will—not replace experience, praxis. 28 “In general the sign of knowledge or ignorance is the ability to teach, and for this reason we

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Basic héxeis of semiotic interaction pertain to most any animal. Typically, the human variants are able to signal, voice, if not articulate, their perceptions, desires—plus a potential elseness. As concerns communicating themselves, they “do [‘δρῶσιν’] this either at random [‘εἰκῇ’] or with a familiarity arising from habit [‘διὰ συνήθειαν ἀπὸ ἕξεως’]” (Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.2). Taking this state of affairs—the ‘feasibility’ (“ἐνδέχεται”) of said modes—as the given, an inductive assessment might proceed toward ‘crafting’ a general(ized) ‘method’ (“ὁδοποιεῖν”): it is possible to examine the reason [‘αἰτίαν θεωρεῖν ἐνδέχεται’] why some attain their end [‘δι’ ὅ (…) ἐπιτυγχάνουσιν’] by familiarity [‘διὰ συνήθειαν’][,] and others by chance [‘ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου’, sc. ‘it just so happens’]; and such an examination all would […] admit to be the function of an art [‘τέχνης ἔργον’]. (Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.2)

In (always) other words: ‘disciplined path-making’—or sound trailblazing—is craftful in itself; and working one’s way from effects to potential ‘causes’ renders this supra-process (quasi) epistemic.29

|| hold that art rather than experience is [more (like, or akin to)] scientific knowledge [‘μᾶλλον ἐπιστήμην’]; for the artists can teach, but the others cannot” (Met. 1–9. 6–7, 981b, I.i.12). As to the emendation, see the preferable rendition by Bonitz/Seidl: “darum sehen wir die Kunst mehr für Wissenschaft an als die Erfahrung” (Metaphysik 3). Regarding “[t]he difference between art [‘τέχνης’] and science [‘ἐπιστήμης’]”, Aristotle offers cross-references (at Met. 1–9. 8–9, 981b, I.i.17; 8n.; with NE 332–337, 1139b–1140a, VI.iii.2–iv.6). See subch. 3.6, herein. 29 The fact that the Stagirite proceeds inductively not only from the quasi ‘raw’ materials of coincidentally or routinely effectual speech acts, but also (or spec. and ex negativo) from prior attempts at orchestrating a rhetorical ‘kósmos’, seems to affect his own theory of ‘atechnicity’ (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.2; 150–167, 1375a–1377b, I.xv.1–33; 442–443, 1416b, III.xvi.1). The very (or peculiar) utilization of the ‘inartificial’ (so-called) may (tend to) be most artful: not only as concerns contextual appositeness; but also in terms of giving a more general theory thereof (beyond a given application). For hardly will Aristotle’s survey and treatment of the ‘atechnic písteis’ be deemed artless. In this sense, Freese’s n. is not just an overstatement, but potentially misleading: “‘inartificial’ proofs […] have nothing to do with the rule of the art, but are already in existence, and only need to be made use of” (Rhet. 6n.–7n.; cf. “independent of art”, “Glossary” 472). On the contrary: that employment (or exploitation) is precisely ‘entechnic’, rhetoric being the circumstantially advantageous utilization of any (or each and every) of the available (extra)linguistic means deemed expedient under said (or the perceived) conditions (see Rhet. 12–15, 1355b, I.i.14–I.ii.1). The above problem could be due to a non-literal trans. of “ὥστε δεῖ τούτων τοῖς μὲν χρήσασθαι τὰ δὲ εὑρεῖν”; which Freese renders: “Thus we have only to make use of the former, whereas we must invent the latter” (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.2). Though there is no ‘mónos’ in the Greek, such trans. recur. Roberts has: “The one kind has merely to be used, the other has to be invented” (“Rhetorica” 1355b, I.2). Cf. “so daß man vom einen davon nur Gebrauch machen, das andere jedoch finden muß” (Rhet. [Krapinger] 12).

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Based on prior (to his mind, imperfect) attempts at ordering incidental and habitualized speech effects, Aristotle’s corresponding treatise may well amount to a ‘meta-art’ of oratory—the latter being a general capacity as such.30 Advancing by chance signifies not having or knowing—hence being unable to consciously, deliberately follow—a (pertinent) rationale. Qua ‘entechnic method’ (“ἔντεχνος μέθοδος”, Rhet. 8, 1355a, I.i.11), wordcraft is capable of the latter with regard to “proofs [‘πίστεις’]” in particular (Rhet. 2–5, 1354a, I.i.3).31 While its “counterpart [‘ἀντίστροφος’]” (Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.1), “likeness [‘ὁμοίωμα’]” (Rhet. 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7), typically proceeds deductively in Aristotle, the aforesaid art advances from particulars to universals—and back.32 || More literally: “Es ist daher nötig, das eine davon zu gebrauchen, das andere aber zu finden” (Rhet. [Sieveke] 13). Cf. “one must use the former and invent the latter” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 37). This leaves open the possibility of an artful, rather than a (supposedly) ‘mere’ usage. What is (deemed) utile depends on the circumstances; their navigation, manipulation marks a téchne. Be the means employed as they might: their accommodation to a given context will render them ‘pertinent to the art’, craftful, in any case. Withal, allegedly ‘atechnic’ proofs can be fabricated, as well; hence be ‘entechnic’ even sensu stricto. See Mayfield (Ventriloquism 67n.). 30 (Cf. Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1; 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7). Rhetoric—like Ancient dialectic—is a sort of ‘supra-art’ (so to say)—“and not confined to any special science [‘ἐπιστήμης ἀφωρισμένης’]” (Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.1; with 12–13, 1355b, I.i.14; 40–41, 1359b, I.iv.6). Generally, see Tredennick: “rhetoric […] aims at persuasion by means of probabilities […]. For Aristotle[,] dialectic is the application of logical methods to argument with a real or imaginary opponent; it is by no means infallible” (“Post. An.” 24n.–25n.). Cf. the Stagirite’s references to prior efforts in said field (Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.3; 3n.; plus “τεχνολογοῦσιν”, 6, 1354b, I.i.9; “τεχνολογεῖν”, 8, 1354b, I.i.10). Above, the prefix ‘meta’ is used in a figurative, accommodated sense. 31 As per the philosopher, these “are the only things in it that come within the province of art [‘ἔντεχνόν’]” (Rhet. 2–5, 1354a, I.i.3; cf. 6–7, 1354b, I.i.9; 6n.–7n.; 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.2; 8–9, 1355a, I.i.11). Pertinently, Niehues-Pröbsting stresses “die Pluralbildung” obtaining in this art: “Die Rhetorik des Aristoteles untersucht die Mittel, viele verschiedene Meinungen und Überzeugungen zu bewirken; sie kennt nicht die eine ausschließliche pistis” (“Glauben” 21). 32 His Topica aim at “discover[ing] a method [‘μέθοδον εὑρεῖν’] by which we shall be able to reason from generally accepted premises [‘ἐξ ἐνδόξων’] about any problem […]. Reasoning is dialectical which reasons from generally accepted opinions” (“Top.” 272–273, 100a–b, I.i; with Rhet. 11, 1355a, I.i.12). See von Fritz: “Die Topik ist […] eine Unterweisung in […] der Kunst, im dialektischen Frage- und Antwortspiel seinen Gegner oder Gesprächspartner zu überwinden” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 642). “Dialektik, deren Namen von dem διαλέγεσθαι, dem sich miteinander unterreden, abgeleitet ist […] hat es κατ’ ἐξοχήν mit der Auseinandersetzung der Menschen miteinander zu tun” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 666). See Bubner: “Dialektik heißt für Aristoteles […] jene Logik, die das Miteinanderreden regelt. Sie wird wesentlich in der Topik behandelt” (Antike Themen 115). There are structural affinities to related disciplines: “We shall possess the method completely when we are in a position similar to that in which we are with regard to rhetoric and medicine and other such faculties [‘δυνάμεων’]; […] [i.e.] when we carry out our purpose with every available means [‘τὸ ἐκ τῶν ἐνδεχομένων ποιεῖν ἅ προαιρούμεθα’]. For neither will the

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Naturally grounded in serendipities, the téchne organizes what had first been experimental heuristics, haphazard arrangements, into conveniently structured procedures for finding, and expedient counsels for ordering, artful arguments: Rhetoric [‘ῥητορικὴ’] […] may be defined as the faculty [‘δύναμις’] of discovering [‘θεωρῆσαι’] the possible means of persuasion [‘τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον πιθανόν’] in reference to any subject whatever. This is the function [‘ἔργον’] of no other of the arts [‘τέχνης’][.] (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1)33

Like oikonomía, inventio is craftful.34 Evinced by Aristotle’s habit of citing poets such as Agathon or Plato, works of literature provide a copia: said “discourses are tentative explorations of […] world-modeling” (Küpper “Denken” 249).35

|| rhetorician seek to persuade nor the physician to heal by every expedient; but if he omits none of the available means, we shall say that he possesses the science [‘ἐπιστήμην’] in an adequate [‘ἱκανῶς’] degree” (“Top.” 278–279, 101b, I.iii; cf. Rhet. 12–15, 1355b, I.i.14–I.ii.1). Hence ‘epistéme’ would signify a ‘sufficient (“ἱκανῶς”) attainment of the resp. end’ (“Top.” 278–279, 101b, I.iv) by virtue of a judicious, advantageous employment of the instruments at hand. 33 With “θεωρεῖν τὸ πιθανόν” (Rhet. 14, 1355b, I.ii.1; see 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7). 34 Cf. Lausberg: “Die systematische Lehre von den loci gehört […] zur ars […], da sie den casus (τύχη […]) durch scientia […] ausschalten will” (Handbuch 201, §373). “Otherwise, we shall […] find ourselves depending on accident to discover what we fail to search for methodically [‘quod non ratione scrutabimur non poterimus invenire nisi casu’]” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 376– 377, 5.10.22). Lausberg logs an inductive genesis: “inventio […] εὕρεσις […] das ‘Finden’ der Gedanken […] ist eine natürliche Glücksgabe […]. Auch der [da]mit […] Ausgestattete wird suchen müssen, um zu finden. […] er [‘begibt’] sich in die Hand der τύχη, deren Überwindung sich […] die τέχνη zum Ziel gesetzt hat […]. Es ist […] nur konsequent, wenn die rhetorische τέχνη das Suchen lehrhaft systematisiert hat. Wer etwas sucht, muß […] grob[…] wissen, wo er […] suchen soll. Die systematisierende Ausschaltung der τύχη wird […] zu einer Ausbildung der Lehre über das ‘Wo’ des Suchens […]. Es gibt durch die Suchpraxis (ἐμπειρία […]) […] vielfach bewährte ‘Örter’, wo [es] sich […] empfiehlt. […] τόποι, loci […] bestehen in rahmenmäßigen S u c h - F o r m e l n, die zum Finden eines passenden Gedankens führen können” (Handbuch 146, §260). See Schopenhauer (“Eristische” 672n., Neben.Dial.B2[7]; with 672–674, [7a–8a]; 673n.). Bubner: “Die allgemeinsten Bezugspunkte […] argumentativen Begründens sind die Topoi oder Gemeinplätze” (Antike Themen 115). 35 Cf. “Literatur ist tentatives Explorieren von Möglichkeiten des Denkens” (“Denken” 269). He stresses “dass sich vernünftige Wesen ungeachtet des Wissens um den fiktionalen Status solcher Texte ‘ernsthaft’ mit ihnen befassen, auch und gerade mit der Mitteilungs-Ebene, nicht etwa nur mit der formalen oder […] euphonischen Dimension” (“Denken” 264; cf. 263n.). “Literatur […] [ist] ein hybrides Gebilde, ein Diskurs mit der Lizenz, konstitutive Elemente anderer Diskurse (Religion, Metaphysik, Philosophie, später […] alle wissenschaftlichen und […] alltagsweltlichen Diskurse) zu inkorporieren” (“Was ist Literatur?” 194; plus 208, 214–215). See Kablitz (“Alterität.” 237; 239, 239n.; 241). From a rhetorical angle, Lausberg: “Die loci sind Suchformeln und in ihrer Gesamtheit ein Gedanken-Reservoir” (Handbuch 201, §373).

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4.1 An Overture in Retrospect (With Shakespeare and Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics) Nur ästhetisch läßt sich der Wunsch erfüllen, nicht so zu sein, wie man ist. —Blumenberg (Arbeit 299)36

Having decided to do anything “to catch the English crown”—including the use of force, “hew[ing]” his “way […] with a bloody axe”, “smil[ing], and murder[ing] whiles” he “smile[s]”—Shakespeare’s Richard, Duke of Gloucester, turns to his complementarily Machiavellian capacity for accommodative fraud, “fram[ing]” his “face to all occasions” (3H6. 279, III.ii.179, 181–182, 185): I’ll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall, I’ll slay more gazers than the basilisk, I’ll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. I can add colours to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school. (3H6. 279–280, III.ii.186–193)37

Apart from the hardly insignificant fact that all lines speak of aemulatio—save the one plainly dealing with rhetoric, which accentuates a weighted parity—the focus in the present context will (else must needs) be on the central line cited.38 By all accounts, the martial feat of conquering “Troy” has already been

|| 36 “The wish to not be the way one is [sc. to be otherwise than one is] may be fulfilled aesthetically only” (trans. dsm). Unless vicariousness is taken to be an aesthetic phenomenon (which could be the case), one might wish to exchange Blumenberg’s initial “Nur” for a ‘Zumal’—in that there seem to be ethical possibilities also. Cf. ch. 12, herein. 37 For a long ékphrasis of Sinon, see Shakespeare’s ‘Lucrece’—applying a depiction of the Ilian War to her own situation (“Luc” 356–362, v.1501–1568; plus 356n.). Spec. “For every tear he [sc. Sinon] falls[,] a TROJAN bleeds” (“Luc” 360, v.1551). “His eye drops fire […] to burn the city” (“Luc” 361, v.1552 and 1554); “he finds means to burn his [i.e. ‘PRIAM’s’] TROY with water [sc. ‘borrowed tears’]” (“Luc” 361, v.1561; plus 360–361, v.1549, v.1560). The lady aligns deceiver and ravisher: “She tears the senseless SINON with her nails, / Comparing him to that unhappy guest / Whose deed hath made herself herself detest. / At last she smilingly with this gives o’er: / ‘Fool, fool!’ quoth she, ‘his wounds will not be sore’” (“Luc” 361–362, v.1564–1568; see 359–360, v.1541–1447). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 198n.); and subch. 7.2.2, herein. 38 Cf. Dzelzainis: “Sinon […] and Ulysses […] are commonplace figures of deceit. Nestor is less obviously so”; “placing him in this company” marks “his famed eloquence” as “an aptitude for rhetorical deceit writ large, an implication underscored in the play on ‘colors’” (110).

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executed. Hence it cannot but be “another” as might be ‘taken’. Patently, the practicable path for outperforming the past is progressive—transmuting yet another potential or ‘maybe’ into a retrospectively necessary ‘must’. In turn, the latter will be susceptible of (else subject to) being outdone in a possible future.39 A notable passage on Aristotle’s part may well seem immediately pertinent. Choice is not concerned with anything that has happened already: for example, no one chooses to have sacked Troy; for neither does one deliberate about what has happened in the past, but about what still lies in the future and may happen or not [‘περὶ ἐσομένου καὶ ἐνδεχομένου’]; what has happened cannot be made not to have happened [‘τὸ δὲ γεγονὸς οὐκ ἐνδέχεται μὴ γενέσθαι’]. Hence Agathon is right in saying This only is denied even to God, The power to make [‘ποιεῖν’] what has been done undone. (NE 330–331, 1139b, VI.ii.6)40

|| 39 “[T]hat present and past events are necessary in the sense that they cannot be changed: factum infectum fieri nequit” is rather precisely what Mignucci calls it: nothing more than an “intuition” (67; cf. 66, 80n.). See Normore: “Medieval discussions of this problem [sc. ‘of future contingents’] often rely on our intuitions that the past and the present are ‘fixed’ in some way in which the future is not” (“Future” 358); “the intuition that the past is in some way not contingent […] seems to be and to have been widespread. Aristotle apparently had it […]. Yet despite the popularity of the intuition, it is far from clear what grounds it” (“Divine” 4). On the contingency of the future and necessity of the past, see also subchs. 3.7, 4.2, and 4.4, herein. 40 Cf. “no one deliberates about things that cannot vary [‘βουλεύεται δ’ οὐθεὶς περὶ τῶν ἀδυνάτων ἄλλως ἔχειν’], nor about things not within his power to do [‘οὐδὲ τῶν μὴ ἐνδεχομένων αὐτῷ πρᾶξαι’]” (NE 336–337, 1140a, VI.iv.3; see 344–345, 1141b, VI.vii.6; Bubner Geschichtsprozesse 39); “nobody deliberates [‘οὐδεὶς βουλεύεται’] about things eternal [‘ἀϊδίων’] […]. Nor yet about things that change but follow a regular process [‘ἀεὶ δὲ κατὰ ταὐτὰ γινομένων’], whether from necessity [‘ἐξ ἀνάγκης’] or by nature [‘φύσει’] or through some other cause […]. Nor about irregular occurrences [‘οὐδὲ περὶ ἄλλοτε ἄλλως’] […]. Nor about the results of chance [‘οὐδὲ περὶ τῶν ἀπὸ τύχης’], such as finding a hidden treasure [‘οἷον θησαυροῦ εὑρέσεως’]. The reason why we do not deliberate about these things is that none of them can be effected by our agency [‘οὐθὲν δι’ ἡμῶν’]. We deliberate about things that are in our control and are attainable by action [‘περὶ τῶν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν καὶ πρακτῶν’]” (NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.3–6). Cf. Freese: “Deliberative oratory deals with contingent things, not with all, but only with such as are within our control; that which necessarily happens, or cannot possibly happen, is not a subject for consideration” (“Intro.” xxxvii). This overstatement is in line with Aristotle’s. Cf. subch. 3.1, 3.3, 3.6, 3.7; the onset of 4. All of the above would hinge on the scope of said activity. The history of philosophy has produced (and continues to sport) much noetic discharge as may appear to stage little else than a turning over of (supposed) permanencies in the resp. minds. Also, there seems to be something like vicarious deliberation: while a capacity for effecting a spec. change might not inhere in the one (presently) performing the thinking or speaking, it may in others, on whose behalf a certain amount of musing is taking place (incl. animals, deities). Perchance, the latter is more often the case than not. See (sub)chs. 4.2 and 12.

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As far as Aristotle is concerned, the past is (always) assumed to be necessary.41 Whatever may happen to be actual at a given moment cannot be its opposite at that exact same time.42 Possibilities refer to the—proximate or distant—future. In view of the likelihood that such as contemplate retaking Troy are rarities, a lifeworldly case might seem suitable. For the conjecture that “the past cannot be affected or altered”, Sorabji offers this proverbial—hence commonsensical— sample: “After the horse has bolted, I have no power to prevent it from having bolted” (Necessity 101).43 In all probability, dissenters should be few—be they into farming, stealing, or logifying (to say nothing of other affairs). Yet rhetoricians will be at—or take—more liberty. The first query: has the animal run off at all (an sit).44 Mayhap, it is grazing serenely on a pasture behind an unbarred barn. If so, has it ‘bolted’; and what constitutes ‘bolting’ (quid sit). With all due respect to said scholar, one may even raise the point as to an implied pun on ‘bolt’ being at play in that refunctionalized version of a proverb

|| 41 Cf. “the past involves a kind of necessity” (Rhet. 453, 1418a, III.xvii.5; with 38–39, 1359a–b, I.iv.1–3). See Sorabji (Necessity 8); Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 39; 43); Zagzebski (16); Agamben (51–53); Oesterle: “what has been can no longer not have been; and what is present cannot fail to be present so long as it is present” (10). For the latter, see the ensuing. 42 Cf. “it is impossible for two contraries to belong to the same thing at the same time” (“Top.” 361, 113a, II.vii). As regards present actualities, the exclusion of contradictory simultaneities, see Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 465, 1051a, IX.ix.2); with subchs. 3.3, 3.7, and 4.4, herein. 43 Pointing to a paronomastic epigram—“Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem” (Plautus “Asinaria” 154, II.ii.294)—Apperson gives the saw ‘To shut the stable door when the steed is stolen’ in several variants (at 598–599). Cf. spec. “De Morgan Alice-for-Short, ch. xxxv., Nothing I have said would warrant such an absurd mistrust of Providence. Besides, it would be merely shutting the stable-door after the steed had broken loose” (in: Apperson 599). Sorabji repeats that “[t]he maxim is in general a sound one: after the horse has bolted, I cannot prevent it from having bolted” (Necessity 102). Not invariably. He adds: “the past has already happened in a certain way (call it f), and I have no power now to make it fit the description ‘not-f’. This fact about the past has no analogue as regards the future. The future will happen in a certain way (call it g), but it does not follow that I now lack the power to make the future notg” (Necessity 102). The latter is the point rather precisely; the former applies to a logical milieu only. By virtue of language (spec. in its artful forms, variants), one might redescribe the past almost at will; and little else happens to virtually everybody—each night, in their dreams (to say naught of tampering with one’s own, or another’s, memory). Sorabji concedes that “there are certain ways in which we can affect the past” (Necessity 102); “we have the following control over the past: when a prediction is already true, we may possess not only the power to make it have been true, but also the power (unexercised) to make it have been false” (Necessity 103; with context). Rhetorical redescription would exceed these possibilities. 44 On the rhetorical status—tentatively applied in these paragraphs—see Lausberg’s lucid synopsis (Elemente 21–22, §31–32); and detailed discussion (Handbuch 64–85, §79–138).

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well-nigh everybody knows (else understands).45 Consequently, a Sophist could call the statement’s seriousness into question (hence for a translatio).46 Since the verb or (adjectival) participle provisionally at issue would seem to signify an otherwise undesirable act, the case (agents, animals, circumstances) could be qualified in such a way as would render using said verb inapposite. Should the gate have been left unbolted on purpose, the horse would hardly have bolted, but simply endorsed its current range and scope (quale sit). Maybe, base motivations—like insurance fraud, to say naught of others (relating to a neighbor’s mare or steed, as the case might be)—cannot be excluded.47 A universal query: do those caring to assert the past’s unalterability or inescapability have a stake in said claim. As always, one may ask: precisely in whose interest is the view of a presumed ‘unpreventability’ (of the bygone).48 Withal, just how likely could the consummate futility of a venerable practice be. For human beings have reliably ‘cried over spilt milk’ (never mind absconded domestics)—else said proverb would not exist.49 Via assorted forms of accommodation, insinuation, an orator can virtually ‘prevent a horse from having bolted’—persuading the relevant recipients that, in various possible senses, it never did so to begin with.50 Before—and even after— Schliemann, the same may go for Troy (not to mention Helen).51 || 45 As to the line’s implications: the participle “bolted” is nominally present twice, ostensively in the sense of “light[ing] out for the Territory” (Twain 262, §43); even while an understood door, corral, or other artificial barrier appears to not have been ‘bolted’. 46 Cf. Lausberg: “Der status translationis […] besteht in der […] I n f r a g e s t e l l u n g d e r R e c h t m ä ß i g k e i t d e r a c t i o selbst”—“etwa wenn […] gefragt wird, ob die behandelte Frage eine ‘berechtigte Frage’ ist, und dabei über Berechtigung des Fragens überhaupt gehandelt wird” (Handbuch 83, §131, §133). 47 Unlike the paronomastic proverb, Sorabji’s version leaves the horse’s gender unspecified. 48 ‘Facts’ are ‘made’: not only—but also—by speech; with rhetoric being the art thereof. 49 Cf. and contrast Zagzebski (17–18). Her gloss seems telling: “The saying ‘There is no use crying over spilt milk’ […] is unfortunate, since people are much more inclined to cry over what they can no longer prevent than over what they can do something about” (190n.). 50 Mutatis mutandis, the technique of (artfully) ‘necessitating’ contingencies will pertain to redescription sensu lato: “endeavour to show that one whom we praise has acted […] [on] purpose, even in the case of mere coincidences and accidents” (Freese “Intro.” xxxviii–xxxix). Epideictically, “one must assume that accidents [‘τὰ συμπτώματα’] and strokes of good fortune [‘τὰ ἀπὸ τύχης’] are due to […] purpose [‘προαιρέσει’]; for if a number of similar [‘πολλὰ καὶ ὅμοια’] examples can be adduced, they will be thought [‘δόξει’] to be signs of virtue [‘σημεῖον ἀρετῆς’] and […] purpose” (Rhet. 100–101, 1367b, I.ix.32). Needless to say, such redescription is of manifold application. For ‘prohaíresis’, Sieveke’s neutral choice (“Absicht”) is preferable (Rhet. [Sieveke] 51). Cf. this quasi tautology: “deliberate purpose” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 84). 51 Truly, that most notorious of encomia may well be taken as a paradigmatic instance of

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4.2 Contingency Beyond Logic From perì hermeneías to Aristotle’s téchne rhetorikè Much of the difficulty […] is generated by the tension between the supposed necessity of the past and the supposed contingency of the future. […] [Peter] d’Ailly argu[es] that the contingency of the future ‘is only to be held on faith’, and maintain[s] that the necessity of the past is only probabile, not evidens. —Normore (“Future” 377) Kontingenz macht keine Zukunft verlässiger als ihre Vergangenheit. —Blumenberg (Arbeit 415)52

As suggested throughout the subchapter on perì hermeneías (3.7), Aristotle’s logical treatise points beyond itself in several respects: expressly, as regards the treatment of ‘non-propositions’ (wishes, vows, prayers), which are delegated to rhetoric, poetics (at “On Int.” 120–121, 17a, IV); implicitly, while not altogether incidentally, by employing oratorical forms of argument passim.53 Withal, “why should he mention contingency at all in logic?” (Oesterle 8).54

|| altering the (received) past by changing its (hereditary) qualifications (see Gorgias “Helen” passim; spec. 754–759, 49[F10], §1–8; and 762–763, §20). The Greek keywords and phrases in the Stagirite’s aforecited passage (curbing the power of deities) may well signal the focus at hand (see NE 330–331, 1139b, VI.ii.6). Taking up the concept of contingency (as detailed in ch. 3), what follows above will connect said capacity for being otherwise (else not at all) to the arch-rhetorical factor of quality (4.3). Before, logic might be rhetoricized (4.2). 52 “Contingency makes no future more reliable [or: dependable, trustworthy] than its past” (Arbeit 415; trans. dsm). The syntactic proximity of “Zukunft”, “verlässiger”, may suggest a zeugmatic use of (the prefix) ‘zu’. For one would usually expect ‘verlässlicher’, here. As to Valéry, Blumenberg logs the possibility “die Vergangenheit als vernachlässigenswert und […] beliebig zu betrachten” (Lebensthemen 150; cf. Amslinger 207). On said issue in a diachronic perspective, see Normore (“Divine” 4–8, 17–19). Spec. “almost any past-tensed sentence might be contingent”; “the necessity of the past will quickly disappear” (“Divine” 18). A (deliberate) proximity of “past” and “will” may well render this remark abysmal. Contrast Zagzebski (180). 53 See Aristotle (spec. “On Int.” 136–139, 18b–19a, IX), as discussed in subch. 3.7. Aquinas likewise observes that, in order “to save the roots of contingency”, the Stagirite adduces certain issues, “although they may seem to exceed the mode of logical matter” (120, XIV.24, after 19a12). Cf. Oesterle: “although the primary concern of his logic is to set order in our mind, it is nonetheless remotely based upon reality” (9; with 4, 11, 14). After replacing the latter term (susceptible of any number of misunderstandings), her remark will seem to the point. 54 She clarifies: “his purpose in considering contingency in […] the Organon is […] strictly logical. But a logic of second intentions cannot treat of these in vacuo; there must always be reference to first intentions […]. Hence in the Peri Hermeneias, Aristotle cannot establish or analyze the special type of proposition which is neither determinately true nor determinately false without reference to the extra-logical. […] if there were no contingency in human actions

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From the angle pertaining to the art of decontextualization, the term is defined as follows: “Things could just as well happen as not”; and also “in this way as that” (“On Int.” 134–135, 18b, IX). Then again, the very phrase ‘definition of contingency’ will likely amount to a contradictio in adiecto.55 Be that as it may. Strictly speaking, the phenomenon in question applies to the future only (“On Int.” 133, 18a, IX); while not to what was, or is at present (“On Int.” 131, 18a, IX; but see 134, 18b, IX). Since logic per se seems to have little use for time, a more circumstantial paradigm is needful.56 To illustrate the nexus of a potential for otherwiseness and that which is ‘(about) to be’, Aristotle offers the notorious instance of a putative naval battle. It is conceivable (neither impossible, nor inevitable) that a naumachía ensue at tomorrow’s dawn (specifically); come the next day, its (non)occurrence will be the case in retrospect (see “On Int.” 138–139, 19a, IX; with 134–135, 18b). What has been variously insinuated above must be reconfirmed in, and for, the context at hand. Seeing as the philosopher’s principles are strictly logical in perì hermeneías, incidental factors are not taken to apply. Everything reduced and excluded in that discipline receives comprehensive treatment in another: whereto the present endeavor is about to turn—and has resorted, all along.57 Aristotle logs the affinities between said art and potentiality, conceivability: all orators are obliged, in their speeches, also to make use of the topic of the possible and impossible [‘περὶ τοῦ δυνατοῦ καὶ ἀδυνάτου’], and to endeavor to show, some of them that a thing will happen, others that it has happened. (Rhet. 264–265, 1391b, II.xviii.3)58

|| or in nature, the question of [said] propositions […] would never arise” (11; with 7, 13); i.e. ‘abstractions’ entail what they were ‘drawn from’ (generally, see Onions et al. 5, s.v. ‘abstract’). “The distinctive way in which contingency is treated in a logical context, namely, that it is a consideration of second intentions as relative to first, can be pointed up by considering the treatment of contingency in other works of Aristotle” (Oesterle 12). Cf. subchs. 3.1 to 3.6, herein. 55 This is lucidly brought out by M. M. Adams’ (otherwise infelicitous) formulation: “an event, action, or state of affairs is contingent, if and only if it is both possible for it to be and possible for it not to be” (2). Similarly in Leppin (84–85); also Striker (146). Cf. subch. 3.4, herein. Needless to say, the problematic status of a ‘contradiction in terms’ is contingent upon (strictly) logical presumptions. Rhetoric can—and will—cope with (or rather, handle) it. 56 See Simplicius’ expedient considerations (74–75, §342.28–343.22; plus Gaskin “Intro.” 5–6). 57 Cf. “the argument becomes fallacious when the circumstances [‘τὸ κατὰ τί’], reference [‘πρὸς τί’], and manner [‘πῇ’] are not added” (Rhet. 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.10). 58 As to rhetoric’s “dealing with the possible and the impossible”, see Aristotle (Rhet. 37, 1359a, I.iii.8; plus 38–39, 1359a–b, I.iv.1–4; 264–273, 1391b–1393a, II.xviii.2–II.xix.27); spec. “things which are possible […] are of two kinds: things which might happen [or: ‘have happened’], and things which easily happen” (Rhet. 67, 1363a, I.vi.27; with 67n.). See the n. below. Generally, cf. Freese: “The topics common to all three kinds of rhetoric are: (1) the

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This intimates the deliberative and forensic.59 The former is linked to practical philosophy—expressly, de re.60 Aristotle reaccentuates said nexus in his téchne: Rhetoric […] deal[s] with things about which we deliberate, but for which we have no systematic rules [‘καὶ τέχνας μὴ ἔχομεν’] […][;] we only deliberate about things which seem to admit of issuing in two ways [‘βουλευόμεθα δὲ περὶ τῶν φαινομένων ἐνδέχεσθαι ἀμφοτέρως ἔχειν’]; as for those things which cannot [‘ἀδυνάτων’] in the past, present, or future be otherwise [‘ἄλλως ἢ γενέσθαι ἢ ἔσεσθαι ἢ ἔχειν’], no one deliberates about them, if he supposes [‘ὑπολαμβάνων’] that they are such[.] (Rhet. 22–23, 1357a, I.ii.12)61

Contingency is here taken as a potential for alternatives; a possibility of two—by implication, more—fallouts.62 For the present purpose and context, the decisive || possible and the impossible; (2) whether a thing has happened or not; (3) whether a thing will happen or not; (4) greatness or smallness, including amplification and depreciation” (“Intro.” xlii). The initial three imply the first status; the fourth entails the third (quale sit). 59 Cf. “of the commonplaces […] the past [‘is most appropriate’] to [the] forensic, since things past are the subject of judgement [‘κρίσις’]; and the possible and future [‘τὸ δὲ δυνατὸν καὶ ἐσόμενον’] to [the] deliberative” (Rhet. 264–265, 1392a, II.xviii.5). On (im)possibility, see Aristotle (Rhet. 264–269, 1392a–b, II.xix.1–15); also as to ‘an sit’ (Rhet. 268–271, 1932b, II.xix.16– 22); and regarding the coming (Rhet. 270–273, 1393a, II.xix.23–25). Cf. the précising formula: “Let this suffice for the possible and impossible; for the question whether a thing has happened, or will happen, or not [‘καὶ ἔσται ἢ οὐκ ἔσται’]” (Rhet. 272–273, 1393a, II.xix.27). 60 See subchs. 3.7, 4.1. On an interplay of the ‘softer’ skills—rhetoric, poetics, dialectics, moral philosophy, politics—cf. Aristotle (Rhet. 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7; 18n.–19n.); also as to the nexus of ethics with politics (NE 6–7, 1094b, I.ii.8; plus 4–5, 1094a–b, I.ii.6); the latter “treat of the same subject from a different point of view” (Rhet. 18n.). See Fuhrmann (Die antike Rhetorik 32); Bubner: “Aristoteles [‘knüpft’] mit seiner Politik an die Ethik an” (Antike Themen 188). As to their common “Grundzug”, he gives “Herstellung von Ordnung […] im Bereich der Kontingenz” (Antike Themen 179). The scholar links this to the Aristotelian concept of literature sensu lato— with its focus on “Einheit der Handlung” (Antike Themen 180; see 180n.; re “Met. 10–14” 174– 175, 1076a, XII.x.14; 280–281, 1090b, XIV.iii.9; plus “Poetics” 54–57, 1450b–1451a, §7–8; 70–71, 1453a, §13). As to the latter, Küpper stresses: “Aristoteles geht es (nur) um Dinge, die sich auf das Handeln von Menschen beziehen lassen” (“Mimesis” 35). In general, “poetry [‘ποιητικῆς’] does not have the same standard of correctness as politics [‘πολιτικῆς’], or as any other art [‘τέχνης’]” (“Poetics” 126–127, 1460b, §25; with Trimpi “Winters” 202). Cf. Höffe (IX); Cosentino as to a “Rehabilitation oder Renaissance der praktischen Philosophie” (23–29; here: 23; see 177). 61 The trans. of the first qualification given in Greek is not literal; nor in certain other versions; cf. e.g. “für die wir aber keine systematischen Wissenschaften besitzen” (Rhet. [Sieveke] 16); “ohne bestimmte Lösungsansätze bereit zu haben” (Rhet. [Krapinger] 15). Withal, Aristotle tenders all three tenses, although the past is (else) taken to be (always) necessary. Mayhap, its contingency is thus insinuated as localizable in the circumstances that are human minds. A skilled orator might play at the past’s otherwiseness—despite his own data, or certain ken. 62 See these versions: “Aber wir beraten nur über solche Dinge, welche sich allem Anschein nach auf zweierlei Weise verhalten können” (Rhet. [Sieveke] 16). “Wir aber beraten über Dinge,

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line will be the last one cited.63 Diachronically, matters considered everlasting, unchangeable, needful have not seldom turned out to be susceptible of virtually any amount of deliberating as to their potential otherwiseness.64 Seeing that the téchne in question is a multipurpose dýnamis, it is capable of delivering in cases where overspecialized skills or ‘sciences’ fail to serve: Rhetoric […] appears to be able to discover the means of persuasion [‘θεωρεῖν τὸ πιθανόν’] in reference to any given subject. […] as an art[,] its rules [‘τὸ τεχνικόν’] are not applied to any particular definite class of things. (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1)65

|| die scheinbar Alternativen offenlassen” (Rhet. [Krapinger] 15). Etymologically adequate, the latter’s Latinizing trans. simultaneously implies a possible pluralization of options. Technically and in terms of content, any deliberation might as well comprise cases as could turn out in more than two ways. Needless to say, neither the notorious ‘principle of bivalence’, nor (for that matter) ‘tertium non datur’, will obtain in rhetoric. Cf. subchs. 3.7 and 8.5.2, herein. 63 Subch. 4.3 sees to the rhetorical manipulation of such ‘suppositions’ (verbally, noetically). 64 Cf. “The knowledge of some of these [‘dialectical problems’] is useful purely for the sake of knowledge, for example, whether the universe is eternal or not [‘πότερον ὁ κόσμος ἀΐδιος ἢ οὔ’]” (“Top.” 298–299, 104b, I.xi; with 300–301, 104b, I.xi; 306–307, 105b, I.xiv). Yet (putative) cognizance can affect pragmatic choices: “nobody deliberates about things eternal [‘ἀϊδίων’], such as the order of the universe [‘περὶ τοῦ κόσμου’]” (NE 134–135, 1112a, III.iii.3; cf. Alexander of Aphrodisias 56, §178.28–179.5, XI). Ammonius states the obvious: “‘of necessity’ the sun moves”; it “is absolutely ‹necessary›” that it “not cease its motion” (115, §153.17, §153.27–28). Cf. Boethius: “necessity appears in the motion of the sun”—“it moves now, […] will never not move. […] we say it only unconditionally: ‘it is necessary that the sun move’. […] the sun cannot for any reason stand still” (“On Interpret. 9” 180–181, §241.5–243.9, re 19a23). Not to mention Josh 10:12–14, such claims display that yesterday’s necessity may well be today’s contingency (cf. Kretzmann “Nos Ipsi” 39–40). Epistemologies are subject to elseness. After Copernicus (at the latest), this may still seem plausible; but no longer ‘be the case’: “it is necessarily true that the sun is setting today[,] […] false that it is not” (Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 182, §244.24–26, re 19a27; see Ockham “Ordin. 38–39” 89, 38.M; Wippel on Aquinas, 231n.). Cf. Freud (“Leonardo” 210); and Blumenberg: “Wenn überhaupt zu erwarten wäre, daß aus wissenschaftlichen Mitteilungen für die Wahrnehmung gelernt wird. Schließlich geht immer noch die Sonne auf und unter” (Löwen 77). “Daß unsere Wahrnehmung nicht kopernikanisch ist und es nie werden wird, ist nur noch als Banalität auszusprechen. Was auch immer wir wissen, die Sonne geht über uns auf und unter, insgeheim sogar für uns auf und unter. Daß es nur die Sprache sei, die uns da verhext habe, mag annehmen, wer ihr soviel zutraut” (Vollzählig. 311). The Boethian claim as to sunset could be salvaged by adding ‘from a human, earthly perspective’. For believers in an omnipotent God, this avowal must be (wholly) illicit, since His will might—just so happen to—have a proclivity for assorted eye-openers well before nightfall. “‘Die Sonne geht nicht auf, die Erde geht unter’” (Blumenberg Begriffe 152). Cf. subchs. 4.4, 11.1.1, herein. 65 “Rhetoric [‘ῥητορικὴ’]” is “the faculty [‘δύναμις’] of discovering [‘θεωρῆσαι’] the possible means of persuasion [‘τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον πιθανόν’] in reference to any subject”—“the function [‘ἔργον’] of no other of the arts [‘τέχνης’]” (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1; cf. 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7).

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This flexibility is aidful, in that it might—actually, if tentatively—accommodate contingent particulars: singular, rare, extraordinary cases; erratic, irregular, haphazard events; indeterminate, vague, indefinite instances; arbitrary whims; inconsistent, illogical ideas. At any rate, induction will be the ‘way to go’. To a significant extent, the potential for elsewiseness is grounded in “the unlimited randomness of […] ever-varying human actions” (Trimpi Muses 264n.)—being the ‘material’ of Moralistics, rhetoric.66 As Sommer accentuates: moral philosophy teaches us to grasp, how we qua agents [‘handelnd’] live with chance. […] it does not ask, whether chance exists at all, but what it means, if we occasionally deem a given case to be such a one [‘wenn wir gelegentlich meinen, dies sei einer’]. (“Zufall” 97; trans. dsm; see 112)

Withal, some measure of choice (free will, perchance) seems to be involved on the part of the agents.67 If so, contingency would be its condition of possibility: most of the things which we judge and examine [sc. rhetorically] can be other than they are [‘ἐνδέχεται καὶ ἄλλως ἔχειν’][—]human actions, which are the subject of our deliberation and examination, being all of such a character and, generally speaking, none of them necessary[.] (Rhet. 24–25, 1357a, I.ii.14)68

As to the devices used in said genres, Aristotle stresses the same potential: “the enthymeme and the example are concerned with things which may, generally speaking, be other than they are [‘περὶ τῶν ἐνδεχομένων ὡς τὰ πολλὰ ἔχειν καὶ ἄλλως’]” (Rhet. 24–25, 1357a, I.ii.13).69 This links to temporal issues once more:

|| 66 Cf. “For ethics and law, a quantitative measurement […] could never encompass the infinite variety of individually qualitative acts” (Muses 286; the above with “Quality” 20n.); “the infinite and various multiplicity of human action” (“Mimesis” 206). See Oesterle: “Contingency is the very reason why it is so difficult to reach the proper principles of moral science, all of which are uncertain” (12). On matter qua ultimate grounds of otherwiseness, cf. Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11; 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2); and subch. 3.5, herein. 67 For heuristic purposes, see Frede’s (somewhat offhand) schema: “There is a tension in Aristotle’s attitude towards necessity and regularity. The scientist […] pleads for as much necessity and regularity as possible, the logician recognizes the need for the notion of the contingent, and the moralist wants as much freedom as possible” (67n.). 68 Roberts has: “Most of the things about which we make decisions, and into which therefore we inquire, present us with alternative possibilities. For it is about our actions that we deliberate and inquire, and all our actions have a contingent character; hardly any of them are determined by necessity” (“Rhetorica” 1357a, I.2). Cf. Cosentino: “Nichts ist […] so eng mit Kontingenz verbunden, wie menschliche Handlungen es sind” (63). 69 Cf. Oesterle (9–10); and the trans. on the part of Roberts: “The enthymeme and the example must […] deal with what is in the main contingent” (“Rhetorica” 1357a, I.2). See Freese:

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Examples are best suited to deliberative oratory and enthymemes to forensic. The first is concerned with the future, so that its examples must be derived from the past; the second with the question of the existence or non-existence of facts, in which demonstrative and necessary proofs are more in place; for the past involves a kind of necessity [‘ἔχει γὰρ τὸ γεγονὸς ἀνάγκην’]. (Rhet. 452–453, 1418a, III.xvii.5)70

Precisely this commonsensical inevitability may be rendered contingent as the case may be; and specifically by recourse to (tools of) verisimilitude. The “probable [‘εἰκός’]” tends to be what “generally happens”, though “not […] unreservedly”: it “is concerned with things that may be other than they are [‘ἀλλὰ τὸ περὶ τὰ ἐνδεχόμενα ἄλλως ἔχειν’]” (Rhet. 26–27, 1357a–b, I.ii.15); meaning, “the ‘contingent’ or ‘variable’” (in Roberts’ rendition, “Rhetorica” 1357a, I.2).71 Here is the stage—and this is the playground—of rhetoric.72

|| “Rhetoric […] derives its material from the usual subjects of deliberation, which are necessarily contingent, for no one deliberates about what is certain. Hence enthymeme and example are concerned with things which, generally speaking, admit of being otherwise than they are” (“Intro.” xxxvi). Then again, what is taken for granted will be subject to contingency. 70 Cf. “proof is a sort of demonstration [‘ἡ δὲ πίστις ἀπόδειξίς τις’]” (Rhet. 8–9, 1355a, I.i.11). Freese’s gloss refers to “[e]xact scientific proof (ἀπόδειξίς), which probable proof (πίστις) only to a certain extent resembles” (Rhet. 8n.). As to a presumed necessity of the past, see Roberts’ paraphrastic trans. of the above: “there is no contingency in what has now already happened” (“Rhetorica” 1418a, III.17). Freese comments: “It is irrevocable, and it is possible to discuss it with some degree of certainty, whereas the future is quite uncertain and all that can be done is to draw inferences from the past” (Rhet. 453n.). In the deliberative, an sit will quasi inevitably (or automatically) be at issue (see Lausberg Elemente 22, §32); along with the other status. In the forensic genus, the inquiry into ‘whether at all’ may, not infrequently, be answered already (being the often hardly contestable reason for the lawsuit itself); while the case will turn on quid and—above all—quale sit. Deliberative cases involve greater contingency at all levels. 71 Aristotle adds: “being so related to that in regard to which it is probable[,] as the universal [‘ὡς τὸ καθόλου’] is to the particular [‘πρὸς τὸ κατὰ μέρος’]” (Rhet. 26–27, 1357a–b, I.ii.15; with qualifications at 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.10)—a general likelihood vis-à-vis a certain verisimilar instance. Roberts: “the same relation” as a “general probability […] to the particular probable case” (gloss at “Rhetorica” 1357b, I.2). Cf. “the probable being not what occurs invariably but only for the most part [‘τὸ δὲ εἰκὸς οὐ τὸ ἀεὶ ἀλλὰ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’]” (Rhet. 338–339, 1402b, II.xxv.8). With Freese: “the probable is that which happens generally, but not always” (“Intro.” xliii); “εἰκός”, “probability”, is “a proposition in contingent matter, […] true in the greater number of cases (Envious men hate those whom they envy), but not in all. Its relation to the conclusion to be drawn is that of the universal to the particular” (“Glossary” 475). With Grimaldi, Kennedy logs this sample: “‘Children love their parents’ […] is a ‘probability’ because a general observation—universal in form[;] probably, but not necessarily true in particular instances” (Rhet. [Kennedy] 43n.; yet contrast also: Aristotle Rhet. 286–287, 1395b, II.xxi.15). 72 “The influence of rhetoric is not limited to the literary arts. The Greek language has, built into it, a surprisingly large number of ways of saying ‘if’. […] It compels a consideration of all

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Taking Aristotle’s putative naumachía as an oratorico-deliberative, rather than a (strictly) logical case—a possibility his arguments insinuate—contextual, hence contingent considerations (especially such as relate to probability) might, or would, become relevant.73 “The question whether a thing has or has not happened must be considered from” various “points of view” (Rhet. 269, 1392b, II.xix.16)—mutatis mutandis, with respect to the future.74 As Bubner accentuates, “rhetoric […] expressly deals with the use of the logos on occasion [‘bei Gelegenheit’]” (“Zufall” 12; trans. dsm).75 It is an art of circumstance; but the linguistic ‘code’—as well as the noéseis it reflects or engenders—is simultaneously common or general.76 In said téchne, any particular always reciprocates with the universal (kathólou); and specifically in the realm of the third status: The further one hypothesizes in circumstance, […] the greater the involvement in quality, and the more qualitative the issue, the more extensive the ‘involution’ in the generic thesis. (Trimpi Muses 255; “Quality” 12)77

|| possibilities in a given instance. […] ἠθοποιΐα concerns itself with what so-and-so would have said if—” (Kustas 64). As to Imperial Roman declamation, Kennedy logs: “Historicity was not important; in Seneca’s seventh suasoria Cicero is imagined deliberating whether to burn his writings when he is told he can thereby save his life. There is no reason to believe he was given this choice” (New History 169). The critic’s assessment seems misguided in failing to reckon with the oratorico-poetically fundamental significance of (the virtual realm of) contingency. 73 On the rhetoricity of Aristotle’s case (spec. “On Int.” 136–139, 18b–19a, IX), cf. subch. 3.7. 74 The above adjective may be intercalated based on the context. For the philosopher gives several in what follows (see Rhet. 268–273, 1392b–1393a, II.xix.16–25). 75 “Rhetorik […] handelt ausdrücklich vom Gebrauch des Logos bei Gelegenheit” (“Zufall” 12)—tied to a key concept: “das πιθανόν […] das je nach Lage der Dinge Hinreichende, das hier und jetzt für Überzeugung taugliche” (“Zufall” 13). Cf. “Argumente haben plausibel zu sein, sie überzeugen[,] […] leuchten ein (ἔνδοξον). Das Einleuchten, das Argumente tauglich macht, ist stets situationsabhängig. Bei einer bestimmten Frage, in einem gewissen Rahmen, bei einem gegebenen Zuhörerkreis leuchtet eine Behauptung ein, in einem anderen Zusammenhang aber nicht” (Antike Themen 115). Bubner stresses “die grundsätzliche Pluralität und Diversität eines ‘Logos bei Gelegenheit’”; the latter being “auf Kontexte angewiesen” (“Zufall” 17). See his homage to “Odo Marquard, in persona ein Mann des Okkasionellen” (“Zufall” 15)—effectively calling him a rhetorician (as per the above description). Trimpi logs that “the object of rhetoric is the persuasive interpretation of given circumstances for the [resp.] purpose” (Muses 366). 76 Cf. Küpper as to “einer in der Sprache – verstanden als System von Unterscheidungen und Subsumptionen – sedimentierten universellen, d.h. transhistorischen und transkulturellen Rationalität” (“Denken” 255; “Fundus des rationalen Allgemeinen”, 256). 77 See Trimpi’s accent: “In both philosophy and rhetoric the closest relation of general to (relatively) specific inquiry lies in their mutual consideration of qualitative issues” (Muses 252); “it is primarily by means of the qualitative considerations that the general issues in any given

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Moreover, “fictional hypotheses are useful where quality is concerned” (Muses 34n.); “fictio valet et ad qualitates” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 416, 5.10.99).78 Aristotle’s virtual naval battle may well serve—or be taken—as such. Consequently (and pace logicum), one might reconnoiter the issue’s overall milieu, specific context. Perchance, preparations have already been made: two or more fleets are presently anchored in wait, with commands pending.79 Mindful of circumstances, it could be inquired whether the one remarking on a potential naumachía is an expert; even in charge of what may occur.80 || controversy may be revealed” (Muses 253); “the relation of indefinite to definite questions remains for all such [sc. ‘humanistic’] disciplines the pivotal point about which any qualitative issue may freely turn” (Muses 344). Cf. Lausberg (Handbuch 82, §127); qtd. in subch. 4.3, herein. 78 “Fiction also helps us with Quality” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 417, 5.10.99; see Trimpi “Quality” 13; 106; Muses 34, 256, 337, 355). “Quality introduces a generic consideration into a particular case and fictional hypotheses are useful where quality is concerned” (Muses 34n.). “The generic considerations latent in every controversy no matter how circumstantial, when brought out by indefinite questions, will always tend to shift the status of a case to quality” (Muses 354). “Poetry brings out the significance of past events […][;] the concept of ‘quality’ informed Aristotle’s discussion of the universal in the Poetics” (Muses 353); “the efficacy of fiction lies in its ability to qualify […] actions” (Muses 352). Hence it is especially this category as provides the stepping stone for moving to the kathólou plane within the rhetorical process: “Die Frage Quale sit, die sich wegen des Subjekts factum auf quaestiones finitae […] bezieht, kann auf nichtpartizipiale substantivische Subjekte übertragen werden und wird so (infolge der Verallgemeinerung der Qualitätsfrage […]) zur quaestio infinita” (Lausberg Handbuch 82, §127). 79 Cf. “if one thing has been done with a view to another [‘εἰ τὸ ἕνεκα τούτου γέγονεν’], it is probable [‘εἰκὸς’] that the latter will also be done” (Rhet. 270–273, 1393a, II.xix.25); “as a rule [‘ὡς γὰρ ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’’], things that are about to happen [‘τὰ μέλλοντα’] are more [‘μᾶλλον’] likely to happen than those which are not” (Rhet. 270–271, 1393a, II.xix.23–24). The general experience being that “if anything was on the point of being done [‘καὶ εἰ ἔμελλε γίγνεσθαι’], it most probably was done [‘καὶ ποιεῖν’]; for it is likely that one who was on the point of doing something has carried it out [‘εἰκὸς γὰρ τὸν μέλλοντα καὶ ποιῆσαι’]” (Rhet. 271, 1392b, II.xix.20). See Talanga (29–30); Frede: “Aristotle […] advises the orator to treat future possibilities as if they were definite facts” (41n.). In general, he logs (but does not always seem to observe) “the difference […] between ‘something will be [‘τὸ ἔσται’]’ and ‘something is about to be [‘τὸ μέλλον’]’”; to be veritable, the former “must be true at some future date”; conversely, while “it is true now to say that ‘something is about to happen [‘μέλλει’]’, there is nothing to prevent its not happening—a man might not go for a walk, though he is now ‘about to [‘μέλλων’]’ do so” (“Coming-to-Be” 320–323, 337b, II.11). See Ammonius (101, §139.1–7; but also 113, §151.5–6; and 125n.). With Frede (41, 41n.; 50; 82); Talanga (29–33, spec. 31; 82). Contrast Mignucci: “a contingent event may take a definite truth-value when all conditions for the realisation of the event are given and it becomes unpreventable” (61); the latter being a non sequitur. 80 Positive orders might still be impeded by natural conditions; be counteracted deliberately; not to mention other forms of interference. Kretzmann’s claim—“it is free choice on which the occurrence or non-occurrence of tomorrow’s sea battle depends” (“Nos Ipsi” 33)—will not

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Asking ‘who says’ need not be frivolous (much less categorically so).81 Perhaps, one is facing the stage manager of a factual or virtual reproduction (for purposes of entertainment); and an admiral’s verdict would all but inevitably have a rather different authority and value (due to a conceivable effect).82 Moreover, it would be relevant whether the notorious query arises in a situation of counsel. Therein, it would be most likely to receive rhetorical qualifications (quale sit): not only as regards general feasibility (the possibile), but also expediency (the utile); or even morality (the honestum).83 The relative weight of these—contextually variable, potentially infinite—factors might (or should) then feed into the assessment of a naumachía’s probability.84 || appear to hold (nor be plausible) at all hazards. He does declare the latter: “Boethian chance is not an independent source of real randomness in nature; […] not a third kind of agency, alongside free choice and natural necessitation (or nature). […] The only unnecessitated actualizing agency […] is free choice. We […] are […] the only sources […] of contingency” (“Nos Ipsi” 36; see 40, 42); “nos ipsi principia sumus […][;] the only unnecessitated actualizing agency is in us; […] we ourselves are the sources of all contingency” (“Nos Ipsi” 34; reaffirmed at 40; cf. 48n.–49n.; and spec. Boethius “On Interpret. 9” 152, §196.25). See his more qualified statement: “free choice is the means by which we serve as sources of at least some of the contingency in nature” (“Nos Ipsi” 34); plus the (valid) objections to what Kretzmann himself calls his “reductionist attitude toward the role of chance in Boethius” (“Nos Ipsi” 35; spec. with 49n.). 81 Aristotle logs that “most” dreams “resemble coincidences [‘συμπτώμασιν’], especially those […] in which the initiation of fulfilment does not lie with the dreamers, e.g., in the case of naval battles [‘ναυμαχίας’] and far-off events; in these cases it seems likely [‘εἰκὸς’] that what happens is much the same as when something which has just been mentioned comes to pass. Is there anything to prevent this occurring in sleep? On the contrary, probably many things of this kind occur [‘μᾶλλον δ’ εἰκὸς πολλὰ τοιαῦτα συμβαίνει’]. Just as the act of mentioning was neither a sign nor a cause of the man’s approach, so in our case the dream was neither a sign nor a cause of its fulfilment to the man who saw it, but only a coincidence [‘ἀλλὰ σύμπτωμα’]. Consequently many dreams have no fulfilment: for coincidences do not occur invariably or even usually [‘τὰ γὰρ συμπτώματα οὔτ’ ἀεὶ οὔθ’ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ γίνεται’]” (“On Prophecy” 378– 379, 363b, I). See Talanga (30); plus the ‘poetic’ samples in ch. 2.2, herein. 82 Cf. Aristotle: “concerning the future (as […] Plato says) the opinion of the doctor and that of the layman are presumably not equally reliable, e.g. as to whether a man will get well or not” (Met. 1–9. 193, 1010b, IV.v.25; see 192n.; “Top.” 298–299, 104a, I.x; Plato “Theaetetus” 112–115, 171D–172B; 134–139, 178B–179B). For an anecdote relating to a staged naval battle, cf. Seneca (“naumachiae spectaculo”, Ep. 66–92. 70, LXX.26). Rhetorically and logically, Mignucci’s claim seems untenable: “If today, before the starting of the battle, the decision of the admirals is taken and this makes the event unpreventable, today (1) [sc. ‘There will be a sea battle tomorrow’] is no longer a contingent proposition” (60–61, with 53); “and this”—a non sequitur. 83 Cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 126–129, 3.8.22–25); Lausberg (Handbuch 126–128, §233–235). 84 Specifications are uncountable. Being accidentia, they cannot be delimited. Nor theorized totally: “for one and the same person or thing may have an in[…]finite [‘ἄπειρα’] number of incidental qualifications” (Phys. 1–4. 148–149, 196b, II.v; cf. 152–153, 197a, II.v). Cf. subch. 4.3.

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Under exigent circumstances—specifically in wartime—it could seem prudent to counterfactually discard a conceivable event’s (present) futurity, (as yet) contingency, (current) indeterminateness; and act as if it were (already) certain, necessary, inevitable: semper paratus.85 Yet even if the question is strictly one of possibility, the general—cultural, climatic—setting would surely be decisive still. Spatially, is one dealing with a coastal or maritime region (an island, say). What are the times and mores, on the whole. Which seasonal or circumstantial phases are being faced. Do naval or marine battles occur frequently; are they (more or less) exceptional; have others taken place recently; is there a state of war or (seeming) peace—“as a rule[,] the future resembles the past [‘ὅμοια (…) ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ τὰ μέλλοντα τοῖς γεγονόσιν’]” (Rhet. 276–277, 1394a, II.xx.8).86 Such—and countless similar—queries concerning (a presumed) likelihood would seem to have an effect on future events spoken of.87 In the present context, it is decisive that they might as well color a re- or perceived factuality retrospectively (an sit)—virtually rendering the past contingent in so doing.88 To heuristically vary the case at hand: by recourse to the—not altogether implausible—‘fact(ure)’ that no one lived to tell, a competent orator could deem it situationally expedient to argue that there was indeed a naval battle at a specified point in time (although none took place).89 || 85 Not to mention Mt 25:1–13 (much less 1Thess 5:2, 2Peter 3:10, Apoc 3:3, 16:15). 86 See Aristotle (Rhet. 42–43, 1359b–1360a, I.iv.9). Cf. Frede’s gloss: “even in Greece seabattles were not as frequent as car-accidents are nowadays” (35n.). Logically, her conclusion need not seem necessary: “Aristotle must have a definite situation in mind (like the one on the day before the Battle of Salamis) where there is a clear likeliness of a battle” (35n.–36n.; see Talanga 76). Rhetorically, such is of critical relevance, of course. 87 Contrast Mignucci: “If future contingent propositions have no truth-value, or an arbitrary one, predictions are pointless” (65). Should said claim have any ‘verità’, it will be one that is ‘ineffettuale’. For even ostensibly “pointless” things (let alone lógoi) are not sans potential. 88 The latter pertains to oratory; remains outside the purview of logic—a discipline as must assume that truth is not only attainable, but ‘havable’. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 36–37; 160n.; 184; 206n.; 358–359; on redescription, see also: 40, 48, 51–53, 108, 142, 160, 336, 433). 89 Blumenberg’s commonsensical gloss—“weil nur die erzählen können, die davongekommen sind” (Sorge 25)—will require being qualified by another (at least in part, as the case may be): “es müssen erst alle tot sein, ehe man ihre ‘Geschichte’ erzählen kann” (Vor allem 69; cf. Lübbe “Identität” 657). Maybe, such as say they ‘got away’ were never actually involved (or elsewhere and -wise). Others who ‘made it’ might have done so in more than one respect. Withal, “it does not always seem to be the case that the dominant culture is the culture of those […] in power” (Küpper “World Literature” 170). Not seldom—spec. if events are (spatio-temporally) remote— first-hand, severally verified, palpably reliable data will not (might never) be readily accessible when (pressingly) needed to check for possible fabrications. Along said lines, almost any past

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A particularly brazen Sophist may find it profitable to prove that—although all agree that such adversarial encounters have occurred in a maritime setting at a given point in time—a corresponding (or preceding) proposition is still false.90 ‘On occasion’ (in Bubner’s sense), the speaker might prevail even so.91 Besides, matters of definition or degree could (and rhetorically would) come into consideration. While the Greek term entails human agency in the first word of the compound ‘naumachía’ (‘naus’ qua ‘ship’), the English translation given above is not unambiguous.92 Given this linguistic state of play, one might ask what constitutes a ‘sea-fight’ or marine combat (quid, also quantum sit): how

|| may be rendered (virtually) contingent—to most (or all relevant) appearances; and for the time being (however long that might extend). Rhetoric is an art of effect—in the resp. present. 90 Regarding “chronological coincidence”, resp. the “contingent [‘ἔτυχεν’] relationships” of “events” that just so “happened [‘συνέβη’]” simultaneously (“to one person or more”)—(not) incidentally exemplified by recourse to a concurrence of naumachíai (at “Salamis and Himera […] on the same day in 480 [BCE]”)—see Aristotle (“Poetics” 116–117, 1459a, §23; with 117n.). As a logical gloss, it might be added that the projective statement ‘tomorrow there will be a naval battle’ could then be construed as having been false in retrospect, despite a factual occurrence of some or several—if ‘a’ is taken to mean ‘exactly one’. A case in Boethius seems (structurally) affine: “the falsity is found not in the outcome […], but in the statement” (“On Interpret. 9” 163, §213.6–7; with 160–163, 209.9–213.18, re 18b9). Spec. “anyone who says of one of the things that come about contingently [‘quae contingenter eveniunt’] that it will be [‘erit’] speaks falsely [‘mentitur’] in that he says that that which perhaps [‘fortasse’] comes about, contingently [‘contingenter’], is going to be [‘futurum esse’]. Even if the thing, event, or state of affairs he predicted should occur, he still spoke falsely [‘mentitus est’]; […] not the outcome […] is false, but the mode of the prediction [‘non enim eventus falsus est, sed modus praedictionis’]. For he ought to have said ‘Tomorrow a sea battle contingently will come about [‘cras bellum navale contingenter eveniet’]’ – […] if it does come about, it comes about in such a way that it could have failed to come about [‘ita evenit, si evenerit, ut potuerit non evenire’]. […] who speaks in this way: ‘Tomorrow there will be a sea battle’ announces it as if it were necessary [‘qui autem ita infit: cras bellum erit navale, quasi necesse sit, ita pronuntiat’]. […] if it should come about, he will still not [‘non iam’] have said something true [‘verum’] because he predicted it[;] since that which contingently was going to come about he predicted was necessarily going to be” (“On Interpret. 9” 162, §212.8–21, as to 18b9; the Latin in: Kretzmann “sea battle” 50n.). Cf. the latter’s commentary (“sea battle” 37–44; and “Nos Ipsi” 27–28; 45n.). 91 Not to mention everyday or artful contexts, Mignucci’s claim (“without any possible change”) might not even seem tenable logically: “It is no longer open whether a sea battle took place yesterday. Either it happened or not, since the past and the present cannot be changed” (61). The frivolous might say: ‘yes, we can’. 92 In line with the Greek, Moerbeke’s Latin rendition has “navale bellum” (168, 19a; also at 166, 18b). The “Notker latinus” offers this variant: “Cras omnes athenienses bello nauali pugnaturi sunt”; resp. “non” (Notker der Deutsche 157, B174). Hardly would that totalizing (“omnes”) claim ever be true—even were a naval battle to occur in fact: a challenge to Sophists.

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many entities must be involved; and must it be performed by human beings.93 Should the latter not be the case: there is a veritable war going on at every millisecond in any ocean. This would seem to make the proposition always necessary, regardless of the tense, precisely so long as there is life in water—the scope for qualification being infinite (here and in general).94 Ever are self-evidences problematic; and not only because they might be exploited by oratorical skill. For said art is also utile for highlighting the use of such devices: a heuristico-hermeneutic tool; a means for maneuvering withal.95 As may stand to reason, these queries are of rhetorico-pragmatic, hardly of logical weight.96 To be posing such—partly common(and, in part, non)sensical— questions is precisely what rhetoricians, or sophists, perform habitually. They reckon with contingency and happenstance: at all times, and everywhere. Intimating reservations (often) suffices to stall, terminate, even turn a case: With rhetoric’s pragmatic perspective[,] the suitable occasion for [an(y)] application becomes important, and […] [so] chance [‘der Zufall’] comes into play. [M]ethodically[,] rhetoric qua techne […] leaves […] a leeway open for the capacity of also being otherwise [‘des Auch-anders-sein-könnens’][.] (Bubner “Zufall” 12; trans. dsm)97

One might (or must) add: the art par excellence will exploit such opportunities virtuosically, and manipulate its (own) latitudes. While warily, this could be implied in Bubner’s observing an oratorical affinity for—or said téchne’s being

|| 93 As to quantity (with a potential for further qualification): would a (painful, but more or less unbloody) struggle of fishermen over a (sizable) catch count as a ‘sea-fight’ (provided they are actually afloat); if the answer is negative, why not. On the categories, Lausberg logs: “unter den status qualitatis subsumiert wird der von Aristoteles […] gleichrangig behandelte status quantitatis” (Handbuch 82, §127;“die allgemein formulierte Frage […] Quantum sit”; 82, §128). 94 (Cf. Phys. 1–4. 148–149, 196b, II.v; 152–153, 197a, II.v; see above). Trimpi: “the question of quality […] involves the orator more and more in particular detail” (Muses 266); “the concept of qualitas” is “associate[d] […] with increasing specification” (Muses 301n.). Cf. subchs. 3.5, 4.3. 95 See ch. 13 (spec. 13.1), herein. Küpper comments: “Rhetoric permits an (almost) unlimited use of the device of metaphor[;] a[nd] […][,] as per Nietzsche[,] ALL our statements are based on metaphors indeed […][;] to this extent, EVERY statement is […] contingent. In short: one can state [or] present everything thus or also else […][.] [Yet] rhetoric is always concerned with effectuality. How much of ‘otherwiseness’ is the recipient willing to accept? Can one bring someone to accept that the sun is a cube? Or does rhetoric’s potential for contingency not always still [and] ultimately refer to the human world of action [‘Handlungswelt’]?” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm). See Nietzsche (“Wahrheit [KSA 1]” 880–881, §1; 887, §2); Heracleitus (in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 151, 22B3). 96 To the extent that the latter would (sensu stricto) require that one abstract from contexts. 97 Cf. Aristotle (Rhet. 110–111, 1369a, I.x.12), as cited in what follows above.

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conducive to—“a planned [‘planmäßig’, sc. regular] attention to the role of uncalculatable chance” (“Zufall” 14; trans. dsm).98 By actively reckoning therewith, rhetoric draws attention to the ‘leeway’. Aristotle’s description of týche in said art ties in with the conceptualizations given in (meta)physical, logical, and ethical contexts: Things which are the result of chance [‘ἀπὸ τύχης’] are all those of which the cause [‘αἰτία’] is indefinite [‘ἀόριστος’], those which happen without any end in view [‘μὴ ἕνεκά’], and […] neither always [‘μὴτε ἀεὶ’], nor generally [‘μὴτε ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’], nor regularly [‘μὴτε τεταγμένως’]. (Rhet. 110–111, 1369a, I.x.12)99

As throughout the œuvre, týche is defined ex negativo. Be the criterion a natural or noetic—thence ‘technical’—orderliness: it remains a “residual quantum”, relatively speaking (“Restmenge”, Küpper “Ordnung” 215; trans. dsm).100 Rhetorico-Skeptically, it may well—and simultaneously not—be that a naval battle has happened yesterday; is arising at this very moment; is going to have taken place by tomorrow; will occur sooner or later.101 There might be no way of

|| 98 A contrast with so-called ‘hard’ science will be utile at this point: “was jenseits der Grenzen wissenschaftlicher Erklärungs- oder Prognosefähigkeit liegt, wirkt normalerweise nicht als Faktor der Begrenzung oder Erschütterung der Exaktheit auf die wissenschaftliche Aufgabenstellung zurück, sondern gilt schlechterdings als irrelevant und unergiebig. Hingegen muß die Rhetorik sich fachgerecht darauf gerade einstellen” (Bubner “Zufall” 13). 99 Aristotle distinguishes “human actions” according to whether they are “the result of man’s efforts or not”; the latter “are all the result of chance [‘ἀπὸ τύχης’], nature [‘φύσει’], or compulsion [‘βίᾳ’]” (Rhet. 109, 1368b, I.x.7). Overall, he précises “seven causes: chance, nature, compulsion, habit, reason, anger, and desire” (Rhet. 109, 1369a, I.x.8; for the description of the remainder: 110–113, 1368a–b, I.x.12–18). See López Grigera (“Causas” 112); subch. 3.5, herein. 100 Cf. “Things which are the result of nature [‘φύσει’] are all those of which the cause is in themselves [‘ἥ τ’ αἰτία ἐν αὐτοῖς’] and regular; for they turn out always, or generally, in the same way. As for those which happen contrary to nature [‘παρὰ φύσιν’][,] there is no need to investigate minutely whether their occurrence is due to a certain force of nature or some other cause (it would seem [‘δόξειε’], however, that such cases also are due to chance [‘ἡ τύχη αἰτία εἶναι’])” (Rhet. 110–111, 1369b, I.x.13). In other words: Aristotle expressly deprioritizes the ‘unnatural’ or (resp. and) ‘fluke-like’—precisely since it is ‘out of the ordinary’ in quantitative respects also (being exceptionally infrequent, hence all but ‘negligible’). For certain twentieth century angles, Bubner observes: “Der Zufall war aber der Rest, mit dem man nichts anzufangen wußte” (Geschichtsprozesse 34; cf. 49n.). Naturally, that second qualification (“nichts”) is precisely not Aristotle’s case, as the scholar will stress (Geschichtsprozesse 35–39). 101 Mignucci logs: “if for a future contingent proposition it is essential to become at some time true or false, the reference to a date or fixed time becomes crucial […]. But what happens with a statement such as ‘it will be raining’ (without addition of a date)?” (85n.). See the n. below.

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knowing—let alone for sure.102 With presumed ‘respect’ to supposedly certain event(ualitie)s set in some (wisely unspecified) future, epistemic indeterminacy (not to say, sheer ignorance) could be capitalized on virtually ad votum.103 Regarding the phenomenon at issue, its privileged field of application will likely be the coming. Outside the sterile site of logic, the potentially infinite quantity of questions involving otherwiseness—a capacity for being else, or not at all—applies to all tenses: “Contingency makes no future more reliable than its past” (Blumenberg Arbeit 415; trans. dsm).104 Rhetoric exploits this state of play.

4.3 Contingent Qualities The Enabling Structure of a Rhetorical Poetics (With Quintilian) the same person or thing may have an in[…]finite number of incidental qualifications. —Aristotle (Phys. 1–4. 149, 196b, II.v; see 152–153, 197a, II.v) fictio valet et ad qualitates[.] —Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 416, 5.10.99)105

A (noetic) potential for elseness is rhetoric’s basic condition of possibility. To sow doubts (as will often suffice), a speaker could argue that what “is contrary to probability [‘τὸ παρὰ τὸ εἰκός’] nevertheless does happen” (Rhet. 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.10)—virtually everything being contingent.106 In Agathon’s words: || 102 Cf. Küpper on a “Versuch, vermittels Rhetorik zu bewirken, was die Logik nicht vermag. Es gibt keine Widerlegung des skeptischen Zweifels” (“Recusatio der Moderne” 404; with 418). 103 This would (simply) be a matter of formulating the corresponding statements in such a way as potentially renders them beyond (the possibility of) ever being ‘verified’. As far as the knowledge of humankind does extend into the past, it would appear as though sundry sects or conspiracy theorists (should these be differentiable) have done little else. 104 Cf. Frede: “only the validity of [the] P[rinciple of] B[ivalence] can be what upsets the whole realm of the contingent in all tenses” (46; see 51; the former re Aristotle “On Int.” 132–135, 18b, IX). E contrario: where said tenet might be practically irrelevant—even relatively inadequate— elseness does indeed apply to past, present, future alike. A decontextualized milieu—sanitized of the everyday—can never elucidate (let alone lay claim to) lived experience; much less in all its fullness. The Terentian “homo sum; humani nil a me alienum puto” (“Self-Tormentor” 186, I.i.77) is literally ‘illogical’. See Trimpi (Plain Style 74; 260n.); Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 267–270). 105 Approx. ‘fictio is of valence (or potent) also with (regard to) the makes (of things)’. 106 Hence what “is contrary to probability [‘τὸ παρὰ τὸ εἰκός’]” may well seem “probable [‘εἰκὸς’]”; and “that which is improbable will be probable [‘ἔσται τὸ μὴ εἰκὸς τὸ εἰκός’]”—at least potentially, as the case might be (Rhet. 335, 1402a, II.xxiv.10). See the affine paragraph on “things which are thought to happen but are incredible [‘ἀπίστων’]”: “it would never have been thought so, if they had not happened or almost happened. […] these things are even more

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One might perhaps [‘τάχ(α)’] say that this very thing is probable [‘εἰκὸς’], that many things [‘πολλὰ’] happen [‘τυγχάνειν’] to men that are not probable [‘οὐκ εἰκότα’]. (Rhet. 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.10)107

More blatantly, it could be intimated that an alleged or supposed “crime is not probable, for the very reason that it was bound to appear so” (Rhet. 335, 1402a, II.xxiv.11).108 Said and similar shifts—including the exploitation of countless accidentals—may be taken to illustrate “what ‘making the [sc. seemingly] worse appear the better argument [‘τὸ τὸν ἥττω δὲ λόγον κρείττω ποιεῖν’]’” (Rhet. 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.11) might signify in practice.109

|| likely to be true; for we only believe in that which is, or that which is probable: if then a thing is incredible and not probable [‘μὴ εἰκός’], it will be true; for it is not because it is probable and credible that we think it true” (Rhet. 316–317, 1400a, II.xxiii.22). Freese glosses: “we accept either that which really is, or that which is probable; if then a statement is made which is incredible and improbable, we assume that it would not have been made, unless it was true” (Rhet. 316n.–317n.). Cf. Sieveke: “Dieser Topos dient der Entkräftung der Argumente, die sich auf die Probabilität berufen. Das Vorhandensein einer Meinung, so paradox sie auch sein mag, erweckt gleichsam die Suggestion der Richtigkeit dieser Meinung” (271n.–272n.). 107 Agathon seems to be an authority for the Stagirite in several matters relating to the overall complex of contingency. See also subchs. 3.5, 4.1; plus the onsets of chs. 4 and 13, herein. 108 Aristotle stresses that something “not inherently impossible […] may” nevertheless “be contrary to fact [‘ψεῦδος δ’ ἴσως’]” (Phys. 5–8. 324–325, 256b, VIII.v). The entire line in Zekl’s (more literal) rendering: “Wenn wir nun (als wirklich) setzen, was (nur) sein kann, so wird sich daraus zwar nichts Unmögliches ergeben, vielleicht aber etwas Falsches” (“Physik” 206). At all events, “the possible seems plausible [‘πιθανόν ἐστι τὸ δυνατόν’]: about the possibility of things which have not occurred we are not yet sure, but it is evident that actual events are possible [‘τὰ δὲ γενόμενα φανερὸν ὅτι δυνατά’]” (“Poetics” 60–61, 1451b, §9); “actual events being probable [‘εἰκὸς’] as well as possible” (“Poetics” 62–63, 1451b, §9). The former takes precedence with a view to effect(uality): “Things probable though impossible should be preferred to the possible but implausible [‘προαιρεῖσθαι τε δεῖ ἀδύνατα εἰκότα μᾶλλον ἢ δυνατὰ ἀπίθανα’]” (“Poetics” 122–125, 1460a, §24; cf. 134–135, 1461b, §25). “Say a poem contains impossibilities: […] it is acceptable if the poetry achieves [‘τυγχάνει’] its goal [‘τοῦ τέλους’]” (“Poetics” 126–127, 1460b, §25). The Poetics displays a rhetorical measure. See also 2.2, herein. 109 Cf. Freese: Protagoras “taught […] to discuss commonplaces from opposite points of view and the art of making the weaker (worse) cause appear the stronger, by which success in a case which otherwise appeared hopeless was frequently attained” (“Intro.” xviii–xix). He logs that “the formula” may be seen “as a statement of the aim of all ancient orators”: “how to overcome stronger arguments by” such as—in spec. conditions, a given context (incl. the audience)— might appear “weaker” (Rhet. 334n.). On Protagoras: Diels/Kranz (Vorsokratiker II. 266, 80B6a– b); D. Laertius (Lives II. 462–463, IX.51). As regards “Argumentationstechniken” pertaining to “sophistische [r] Rhetorik”—spec. “das Sprechen für und gegen dieselbe Sache oder das ‘Die schwächere Position zur stärkeren machen’”—see Niehues-Pröbsting (Die antike Phil. 55). Likewise von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 225). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 183n.); subch. 8.2 to 8.4.

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While excluded in epistemai proper or sensu stricto, all that runs counter to ‘nature’ or regularity does have a locus and function in this téchne. As a matter of fact (or fiction), the random, happenchance tend to be of the greatest import. Among other things, such significantly increases a speaker’s leeway with regard to the crafting of likelihoods; specifically by including dubieties as would definitively be disqualified in other disciplines: “an apparent probability [‘φαινόμενων εἰκός’]” is “not found in any art [‘τέχνῃ’] except Rhetoric [‘ῥητορικῇ’] and Sophistic [‘ἐριστικῇ’]” (Rhet. 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.11).110 For the most part, the eikós will be effected by tapping into a natural copia— or artificial arsenal—of accompanying qualifications. Relating to make or kind, degree, likeness, and oratorical ‘color’ (valuative, tendentious touches), all but any accidental may be conferred upon a given fact or phenomenon, by virtue of various noetico-poetic activities.111 As regards the inventive ingenuity involved, the philosopher maintains: If a thing can be made without art or preparation [‘παρασκευῆς’], much the more can [‘μᾶλλον (…) δυνατόν’] it be made with the help of art [‘τέχνης’] and carefulness [‘ἐπιμελείας’]. (Rhet. 268–269, 1392b, II.xix.13)112

Such diligence would also implicate the sort of virtuosity that practitioners— experienced in using said versatile armory of techniques—have evermore been charged with: “the orator should be able to prove opposites [‘τἀναντία δεῖ δύνασθαι πείθειν’]” (Rhet. 10–11, 1355a, I.i.12); hence know how to argue and qualify also on any conceivable other side (at least in theory).113 || 110 Cf. von Fritz: “Die Sophisten brauchten eben ihren Prinzipien nach nicht wissenschaftlich konsequent sein […] konnten auch wieder alles gelten lassen, was zur praktischen Bewältigung des Lebens, wie wir es nun einmal leben, nützlich ist” (“Rückwendung” 224; see 225–226, 229). Their point is “eine τέχνη, […] praktische Kunst zu entwickeln, sich in dieser […] unsicheren Welt zurechtzufinden und die Dinge zu unseren Gunsten zu wenden” (“Rückwendung” 225). On Aristotle’s assertion that there can be no ‘science of chance’, see subch. 3.6, herein. 111 (Cf. Met. 1–9. 306–309, 1027b, VI.iv.2–3; cited in subch. 3.5). D. Laertius suggests that Plato was “the first who in philosophical discussion employed the term[…] quality [‘ποιότητα’]” (Lives I. 298–299, III.24). Cf. Aristotle (“Cat.” 16–19, 1b, IV; 62–79, 8b–11b, VIII–IX); subch. 3.5. 112 He also adds Agathon’s dictum: “we have to do some things by art [‘τέχνῃ’], while others fall to our lot by compulsion [‘ἀνάγκῃ’] or chance [‘τύχῃ’]” (Rhet. 268–269, 1392b, II.xix.13). By implication, fors would seem to pertain to the unpremeditated, ‘atechnic’—being opposed to a deliberate, virtuoso approach. On crafting impressions of chance or necessity, see Mayfield (Artful 92; 101n.; 103n.; 107; 120; 124; 125n.; 134–135; 146; 155–156; 165n.; 173; 184; 196n.; generally 77–198). Above all, Strauss: “accidents happen not only by accident; they can also be fabricated” (Thoughts 220). Cf. Mansfield (Modes 139); plus the onsets of chs. 7, 8, 13, herein. 113 Qualities—the art’s dominant focus—likewise ‘admit of contraries and degrees’ (“Cat.” 74–

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On the whole, it will be of the foremost importance to ascertain where one stands; respectively the issue at hand.114 An answer tends to involve the three status: whether something happens to be the case at all (an sit); if so, how it is defined (quid sit); and then, what ‘makes’ it might have (quale sit).115 As to the latter, Trimpi elucidates: “the concept of ‘quality’ originates in the relative and interrogative pronoun ‘what’”—“the ‘whatness’” being “that which makes a thing the kind of thing it is” (Muses 266; “Quality” 22).116 With respect to the tradition, Quintilian observes: || 75, 10b, VIII). Cf. subch. 3.5; plus observations on argument in utramque partem (“Top.” 276– 277, 101a, I.ii; 300–301, 104b, I.xi; with Forster 268; and subch. 8.4, herein). As to the above: “Rhetoric and Dialectic alone of all the arts prove opposites” (Rhet. 13, 1355a, I.i.12)—spec. due to being “trans-generic system[s] of diction” (Küpper Discursive 289). Cf. Ross, briefly (272). 114 Generally, see Sharples’ usefully performative dictum: “The issue is really one of the point of view taken” (12). In particular, cf. Trimpi on the advocate’s vicarious taking of stances and perspectives: “status” signifies “ways of seeing the action itself. […] The orator, unlike the legislator, must see the action from a point of view favorable to his client” (Muses 258). Of course, “rhetorical inventio […] relies […] on generating arguments with one eye on the opposition” (Sloane “Education” 174). Assessing the interests of one’s own party involves perceiving—with a view to ‘defusing’ (see Schaeffer Why Fiction? xiv–xv)—what speaks in the opponent’s favor. Cf. Mayfield (spec. Ventriloquism 76–77, 76n.–77n.; 92–93, 92n.–93n.; 152n.). 115 Trimpi gives a ‘genealogy’ of the status: “these classifications are derived from Aristotle’s categories […]. Substance (οὐσία) answers the question whether a thing is, an sit; quality (ποιόν), what is its nature, quale sit; quantity (ποσόν) deals with magnitude and number, quam magnum et quam multum sit; and relation (πρός τι) with ‘competence’ and ‘comparison’, translatio et comparatio” (Muses 258–259; cf. 355; Aristotle Rhet. 12–13, 1355b, I.i.13; 436–443, 1416a–b, III.xv.1–10; spec. 450–451, 1417b, III.xvii.1). On “an sit, quid sit, quale sit, quantum sit”, see Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 72, 3.6.48; cf. 73–74, 3.6.49–51; 75–76, 3.6.56; 74n.). Trimpi: “With respect to philosophy, Cicero divides theoretical questions or theses into three kinds […]. The first […] asks whether something exists or happened (sitne) and is to be answered by inference and conjecture (coniectura). The second […] asks what the thing is (quid sit) and is to be answered by definition (definitione). […] the third […] asks what its character is (quale sit) and is to be answered by distinctions between right and wrong (iuris et iniuriae distinctione)” (Muses 252). The scholar clarifies: “The quantitative measure is abstract, general, inflexible, […] impersonal; the qualitative is ‘substantial’, particular, applicable, […] casuistic” (Muses 268– 269). On the queries, cf. Lausberg (Handbuch 52, §55; 83, §134); spec. as to the “präsentische prädikative Formulierung Quale sit (scil. factum […]) […]. Damit wird eine Analogie zur Formulierung Quid sit […], sowie eine Verallgemeinerung der Qualitätsfrage […] erreicht” (Handbuch 81, §125). He observes “daß unter den status qualitatis analog auch die Verteidigung des Täters allein (unter Verwerfung der Handlung) subsumiert wird”; whence it comprises “eine analoge Frage qualis sit nach der Q u a l i t ä t d e s T ä t e r s” (Handbuch 82, §126). “Die Verteidigung verteidigt teils die Tat selbst (und damit auch den Täter), teils nur den Täter […][;] die Qualitätsfrage wird auf den Täter umorientiert” (Handbuch 97, §175). 116 Cf. Trimpi: “the term qualitas […] render[s] ποιότης […][;] matter receives a given

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Others have held that there are three Rational Issues [sc. ‘status’]—Does it exist [‘an sit’]? What is it [‘quid sit’]? What sort of thing is it [‘quale sit’]?—and only Hermagoras gives four, namely Conjecture [‘coniecturam’], Peculiarity [‘proprietatem’], Transference [‘tralationem’] and Quality [‘qualitatem’], which he calls ‘accidental’ [‘per accidentia, id est κατὰ συμβεβηκός’] […], explaining this as meaning ‘whether someone happens to be [‘accidat (…) esse’] a good […] or a bad man’. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 76–79, 3.6.56, plus 3.6.55)117

|| ‘whatness’ by means of qualifications (ποιότητας) imposed by […] form” (Muses 263–264); the rhetorical issue being “what kind of an action or person is involved (quale sit)” (Muses 337). 117 A contrastive contemplation of the Aristotelian and Christian conceptions of (the) ‘malum’ might be in place. The Stagirite locates ‘badness’ exclusively in immediate givens: “[‘τὸ κακὸν’] does not exist apart from things” (Met. 1–9. 465, 1051a, IX.ix.3). Tredennick logs that the kakón “does not exist apart from particular instances [there]of” (Met. 1–9. 466n.; cf. NE 410–411, 1150a, VII.vi.7; 411n.). A basis will be Aristotle’s view that “actuality [‘ἡ ἐνέργεια’] is prior to potentiality [‘τῆς δυνάμεως’]” (Met. 1–9. 457, 1050a, IX.viii.8; with 454–457, 1049b–1050a, IX.viii.1–7; 464–465, 1051a, IX.viii.20). Hence “in the case of evils [‘ἐπὶ τῶν κακῶν’][,] the end or actuality must be worse than the potentiality” (Met. 1–9. 465, 1051a, IX.ix.3); and “a good actuality is both better and more estimable than a good potentiality” (Met. 1–9. 465, 1051a, IX.ix.1). Cf. the refutation of the inference that “the man who is willingly bad is better” (Met. 1– 9. 289, 1025a, V.xxix.6; see “Top.” 368–371, 114b, II.ix). Withal, “virtue is more worthy of choice than luck […]. So also in the contrary case; for what is in itself the cause of evil [‘τὸ γὰρ καθ’ αὑτὸ κακοῦ αἴτιον’] is more to be avoided than that which is only accidentally the cause of evil, as in the case of baseness [‘κακία’] and chance [‘τύχη’]; for the former is in itself an evil, while chance is only accidentally so [‘κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]” (“Top.” 386–387, 116b, III.i; with NE 44–45, 1099b, I.ix.5–6). Cf. the paragraph as to ‘incidental (in)justice’ (NE 300–301, 1135b, V.viii.4). On the whole, Aristotle sidelines the phenomenon in much the same way as chance: “presumably it is false that anyone should think that the essence of good is the essence of bad, except accidentally [‘εἰ μὴ κατὰ συμβεβηκός’]” (“Prior An.” 506–507, 67b, II.xxi). See Kablitz on the Medieval Aristotelianizer kat’ exochén: “Konstitutiv für Thomas’ Sündenlehre ist die Annahme, daß der menschliche Wille sich allein auf ein bonum zu richten vermag. […] Sünde […] beruht auf Irrtum; das malum geschieht nicht absichtsvoll, es ereignet sich per accidens” (“Zeichen” 176–177; cf. 177n.). Küpper notes that one might contrast the above—also “merely [in terms of] quantity”—with what can be found under the rubric of “‘malum’ in Augustine and Aquinas”: “The difference between Ancient pagan and Christian thought is still [and] incomparably greater than in the case of ‘contingency’. For the central dogma of the Christian [discourse] is God’s self-sacrifice. Such a – religio-historically revolutionary – inversion of the hierarchy of God [and] Man takes noetically for granted that the ‘malum’, which falls to Man (selfinflictedly), is almost incalculably great – otherwise Man could ‘repair’ it by [his] own efforts or at least accept it as unavoidable. The notion of a (post-lapsarian) world [as is] evil, wretched at core[,] is utterly non-Ancient. The Christian [discourse] was forced to conceptualize the world as a locus of Evil[,] so as to be able to justify God’s [self-]sacrifice as strictly necessary” (comment on the ms. of the present study; Dec 24, 2019; trans. dsm). One could speculate that the ultimate condition for at all conceiving of humankind as capable of culpability with respect to its god(s) is a view that Aristotle expressly contests: “Indeed if the poets are right and the

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With “human actions” at stake, “quality becomes ethical” (Trimpi Muses 266; “Quality” 22).118 Here indeed, conditions will be considerable; contexts critical; contingencies key: “motive, time, place, opportunity, means, method, and the like are accidents of things [‘causa tempus locus occasio instrumentum modus et cetera rerum sint accidentia’]” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 376–377, 5.10.23).119 Glossing the above, Trimpi logs that “κατὰ συμβεβηκός (ποιότης)” signifies contingent qualities[,] […] bear[ing] by chance upon the case proper; […] the term […] refers to an accident […]. It can […] belong[,] or not belong[,] to a particular[;] […] it may become temporarily or relatively a property in certain situations. (Muses 260; “Quality” 17)

A potential for elseness marks the condition of possibility for any particular— hence for all qualifications. Whether the latter are taken (thought, said, seen) to appertain will hinge on the circumstances; specifically on those handling them. Little wonder that “sophists discuss the accident [‘περὶ τὸ συμβεβηκὸς’] more, perhaps, than any other people” (Met. 1–9. 298–299, 1026b, VI.ii.3).120 Incidentals are free for all; and the realm of contingency infinitely exploitable.

|| Deity is by nature jealous, it is probable that in this case He would be particularly jealous, and all those who excel in knowledge unfortunate. But it is impossible for the Deity to be jealous (indeed, as the proverb says, ‘poets tell many a lie’)” (Met. 1–9. 15, 983a, I.ii.13). Contrast Dt 6:15, Na 1:2; also Ex 20:5, 34:14; Dt 4:24, 5:9; Josh 24:19. If inflicting a ‘narcissistic lesion’ on God is impossible, humans have no means of injuring their Creator—even should He actually be of their making. See Küpper’s accent: “Selbst daß ein Sich-Rächen für die Übertretung eines Gebots etwas ist, das einem (allmächtigen) Gott letztlich unangemessen erscheint, hat das Christentum mit dem Gedanken des Gottesopfers ratifiziert” (“Horizont” 229n.). Cf. Aristotle: “it is impossible for a god to be wronged, for it is impossible for God to be harmed” (“Top.” 337, 109b, II.ii). A test for zealots: does one love one’s love of god more than god. 118 See Aristotle: “our actions […] determine the quality [‘τοῦ ποιὰς’] of our dispositions [‘τὰς ἕξεις’]” (NE 74–75, 1103b, II.ii.1). A sober alternative to Enlightenment-induced entitlements. 119 Cf. “personam causam locum tempus instrumentum occasionem” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 246, 4.2.55); “ut dicturus intueatur quid, apud quem, pro quo, contra quem, quo tempore, quo loco, quo rerum statu, qua vulgi fama dicendum sit: quid iudicem sentire credibile sit antequam incipimus: tum quid aut desideremus aut deprecemur” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 204–206, 4.1.52). As to “whether […] someone has spoken or acted well, one should examine not only whether the actual deed or utterance is good or bad, but also […] the agent or speaker [‘τὸν πράττοντα ἢ λέγοντα’], to whom [‘πρὸς ὃν’] he acted or spoke, when [‘ὅτε’], with what means [‘ὅτῳ’], and for what end [‘οὗ ἕνεκεν’]—[…] [e.g.] whether to occasion greater good, or avert greater evil” (“Poetics” 128–129, 1459a, §25; cf. Rhet. 334–335, 1402a, II.xxiv.10). A locus classicus for archrhetorical queries: “quis, quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis, cur, quomodo, quando” (Lausberg Elemente 25, §41; see Handbuch 183, §328; 203, §374; spec. 966n.; and 150, §264; 164, §289; 213, §387). For further references, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 42, 42n.–43n.; 84n.; 111n.; 148; 149n.; 190). 120 See Trimpi (Muses 262n.; “Quality” 18n.). “[S]ophistry is the only science which concerns

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In (rhetorical) practice, the third status tends to be dominant, decisive: Quality [‘qualitas’] gives the most scope for the orator’s craft [‘operam’], […] because there is so much room for […] [‘ingenio’, ingenuity] on both sides [‘in utramque partem’][.] (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 6–8. 248–249, 7.4.23) 121

Else on any (“vel in plures”, Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.2). In the main, this leeway relates to the sheerly limitless opportunities for qualifying (by virtue of) accidentals. A well-organized—inductively conducted, perspectivally mindful— heuristics tends to prove advantageous. For not just any option will be as reasonable and probable—or pleasing to the recipients—as the next. Hence the use of contingencies is a matter of iudicium and dispositio also. Adducing the ties with poetic practice(s), Trimpi remarks that an “exploration” also on the other side(s) “brings out, as in a dialogue, the qualitative issues of the case” (Muses 326; “Quality” 80).122 Plausibly, he observes: “There is a strong suggestion here that the interpretative, if not fictive, powers of the orator are the most important” (Muses 257; “Quality” 14).123 Not only may ‘whatnesses’ be attached—and accident(al)s exploited—virtually ad libitum. Chances could also be crafted to begin with (see the onsets of 7, 8, 13).

|| itself with the accidental”—as the context disallows an epistéme thereof, Aristotle is effectually saying that the Sophistic is not (“Met. 10–14” 91, 1064b, XI.viii.3). Cf. subch. 3.6, herein. 121 Exceptional weight is given thereto: “demonstrat[ing] the Quality of things is work for […] eloquence [‘eloquentiae est opus’]”—“hic regnat, hic imperat, hic sola vincit” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 248–251, 7.4.24). On said status from a rhetorical angle, cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 236–261, 7.4.1–44); plus these instances: “a question of Quality [‘de qualitate’] […] only arises when the facts are agreed [‘cum de re constat’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 256–257, 4.2.76); “factum esse constat, quale sit factum quaeritur” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 236, 7.4.3); “the most powerful element in a Definition is Quality [‘qualitas’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 232–233, 7.3.28). Cf. Trimpi (Muses 257; 265; with 241–284; 361; passim; “Quality” 14; 22; 122–123; and throughout, spec. 1–31, 97–113). 122 Generally, see Lausberg (Elemente 21–22, §31–32): “Im s t a t u s q u a l i t a t i s […] wird nach der rechtlichen Qualifizierung der Tag gefragt” (Elemente 21, §31.4; cf. 22). “Die deliberative Gattung […] kommt […] meist im status coniecturae […] vor (‘ob man etwas tun soll’). Die epideiktische […] kommt […] meist im status qualitatis ([…] ‘ob schön oder häßlich’) und […] finitionis ([‘][…][B]estimmung eines zu lobenden Menschen’) vor” (Elemente 22, §32). 123 “[R]hetorical and literary analys[e]s of experience are related by their mutual concern with the concept of qualitas” (Muses 285); “history and the novel involve the status conjecturalis, poetry the […] qualitatis. The status conjecturalis fall under the strictures of ‘exact’ verification; they can be proven to be true or false. The status qualitatis claim only the approximate truth of men’s continuing ethical experience” (Muses 283n.). “History is terra cognita; fiction incognita, which must be rendered probable in order to pass for history” (Muses 292).

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In the present context, the forensic and deliberative are of particular import. For “qualitas” may “refer to past facta” or “to the future” (Lausberg Handbuch 96, §171–173; trans. dsm).124 Since the latter will be conjecturally feckful (if they are), it cannot be excluded that this process could have a feedback effect on what would otherwise be taken to have happened previously. It is the érgon of said status (“ποιότης”) to be “q u a l i f y i n g the factum a d v e r b i a l l y”—be it already agreed on, or yet putative (Handbuch 81, §123; trans. dsm). In a perspectival art, it will often be expedient simply to signal that another standpoint is basically conceivable, in order to insinuate the respectively possible views as likely; or not altogether improbable.125 Further qualifications—accidental additives—may then render it palatable. The presence of different and articulated stances inevitably conduces to a pluralistically pugnacious state of affairs. “The status qualitatis is a ‘conflict of norms’”—and of the ‘valuations’ respectively attached (Handbuch 97, §175; trans. dsm; with 121, §220). Lausberg proffers a frequently relevant case in point: “utilitas […] may come into conflict with aequitas (or its ethical basis: the honestum)”; hence it will seem “advisable to separate” the “honestum” and the “utile” (Handbuch 126–127, §233–234; trans. dsm).126 As indicated by these terms, a nexus of rhetoric with moral theory will be particularly discernible, here: “The topics of […] qualitative issues gradually || 124 “Der status qualitatis […] tritt in zwei Varianten […] auf: qualitas iuridicialis […] und qualitas negotialis […]. Die pars iuridicialis […] bezieht sich auf vergangene facta […]. Die pars negotialis […] hat […] wegen ihrer Beziehung auf die Zukunft enge Beziehung […] zum genus deliberativum” (Handbuch 96, §171–173; cf. the n. below). On quality in the latter, see Lausberg (Handbuch 126–128, §233–236). As to the epideictic: “Der status qualitatis ist der zentrale status des genus demonstrativum […]. Die Qualitätsfrage lautet[—]da die dem genus zukommende Qualität das honestum (turpe) ist[—][…] An honestum (turpe) sit?” (Handbuch 138, §252). 125 Cf. “if of two like things the one is possible [‘εἰ τὸ ὅμοιον δυνατόν’], so also is the other [‘καὶ τὸ ὅμοιον’]” (Rhet. 266–267, 1392a, II.xix.2). As in an eye rhyme, this statement’s structural (syntactic) and surface (visible) planes amount to a mise en abyme of its semantics. 126 “consider[ing] both […] as qualities pertaining to the genus deliberativum” (Handbuch 126– 127, §233–234; trans. dsm). It may well apply to the forensic, as the case might be: “Die statusLehre ist im genus iudiciale […] entwickelt worden […]. Sie ist aber von hier aus auf alle drei genera causarum (also […] deliberativum […] demonstrativum) analog (und mit gewissen Modifikationen) übertragbar” (Handbuch 69, §94). Generally, cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 78– 79, 3.6.56–57); Lausberg (Handbuch 82, §129; 96–97, §173; 106, §196.1; 126, §233). Spec. “Die pars negotialis […] hat […] wegen ihrer Beziehung auf die Zukunft enge Beziehung […] zum genus deliberativum […]. Sie wird aber traditionell im […] iudiciale behandelt, weil die Qualität, um die es in der pars negotialis geht, das ius ([…] allgemeiner: die aequitas) ist […], während ja die Hauptqualität des […] deliberativum das utile ist” (Handbuch 96–97, §173). The resp. ‘criteria’ are “iustum/iniustum”, “utile/non utile”, “honestum/turpe” (Handbuch 82, §129).

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shade into the practical theses of philosophy, concerning ethical action (actio)” (Trimpi Muses 252–253; “Quality” 10–11).127 Inter alia, this generic overlap enables Sophistic crafts as ‘elusive virtuosity in everything’ (so to say). For “transitions are fluid” (Lausberg Handbuch 128, §236; trans. dsm).128 In view of the fact that people (not to mention philosophers) exhibit a tendency to seem overly certain of their opinions, such a state of play will—all but naturally—conduce to eristics: an art of verbal agón. It is precisely states of contradiction, variance, as foster acts of qualifying in a specifically rhetorical sense (see chapter 8, herein). Stances, angles, estimates are accidental to a respective given: they may be manipulated almost at will. Whatever appertains to some matter by chance might also be attached as if it were necessary. Lausberg’s remarks to this effect are suitably descriptive: Since the honestum is the highest moral quality, it[s appearance] must be maintained also in cases of merely utilitarian counsels[,] by way of coloring […] the utile in the direction of the honestum […]. The argument of moral self-defense is a preferred choice […]. This line[,] leading to […] Machiavelli[’s] […] Principe […][,] is cultivated in school declamations […] especially. (Handbuch 128, §234; trans. dsm)129

By virtue of qualifications, rhetoric capitalizes on any potential, putative, otherwise incidental aspect—to serve a topical purpose with utmost effectuality. A makeshift viaduct between quality and contingency (sensu lato) may be aided by that most precarious of nexus—between the expedient and the ethical: Quint[ilian] […] establishes the qualitative scale [‘Qualitätsleiter’] honestum, utile, possibile[,] and so brings the status qualitatis in[to] contact with […] the status coniecturae[,] characterized by the possibile. (Lausberg Handbuch 128, §235; trans. dsm)130

Inter alia, this might imply that the ‘whatness’ is basically able to affect the ‘whetherness’—in hindsight, also retroactively; not only regarding the future.

|| 127 The scholar adds that they “deal with duty (officium), or removing emotions […], as in the exhortation to seek glory” (Muses 252–253). On the latter, Mayfield (Artful 141–157; 180; 197n.). 128 Adopting one of Lausberg’s preferred qualifications: “Die Übergänge sind fließend” (Handbuch 128, §236; cf. e.g. 409, §823; recurring in variations passim). With respect to Sophistic shiftiness—incl. reference to Plato—see subch. 3.6, herein. 129 “[Man] denkt sich in eine fremde Person hinein […], so daß fast ein Theaterspielen vorliegt” (Handbuch 128, §234). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 49; 59–82; 122–124; 140; passim). 130 He adds: “Zwischen utile und possibile wären dann die Qualitätsnuancen und -varianten facile/difficile, magnum/parvum, iucundum/iniucundum, sine periculo/periculosum (Quint. 3,8,27) einzuschalten” (Handbuch 128, §235; with Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 128–129, 3.8.27).

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Said association of quality and a capacity for being else (or not at all) occurs in a deliberative environment.131 Stressing the import and -pact of circumstantial factors, Quintilian remarks that there are always “three considerations to take into account first”: “what [‘is’] the proposal [‘quid sit de quo deliberetur’]”; “who are the people discussing it [‘qui sint qui deliberent’]”; “who is the adviser [‘qui sit qui suadeat’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 124–125, 3.8.15).132 Conceivable accidentals being infinite, the hypoleptico-contextual art ties in with the situation—taking up qualifications potentially latent therein; or verisimilarly attachable thereto.133 The Roman orator clarifies: As for the proposal [‘Rem de qua deliberatur’], its practicability [‘posse fieri’] is either certain or doubtful [‘aut certum est (…) aut incertum’]. If it is doubtful, this becomes the only[,] or at least the most vital[,] question. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 124–125, 3.8.16)

In principle, nothing prevents this shift of emphasis from occurring also in (forensic) cases relating to the past. By virtue of qualifying a perceived effect, doubts may be raised as to its presumed cause: the ‘quale’ affects the ‘an sit’.134 On the whole, contextualization—spatio-temporal settings, the involved or otherwise present, their bearing and form of interaction, the means, probable purposes, et caetera—will ever be paramount: There are some things also which we may believe [‘credibile est’] are both possible and likely to happen [‘et fieri posse et futura esse’], but at some other time [‘tempore’] or place [‘loco’] or in some other way [‘modo’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 124–125, 3.8.17)

Not incidentally, this insinuates that recipients are the only relevant measure. Present or feasible, their assumptions are decisive for the overall state of play. In his context, the orator takes up, and contests, certain previous positions: Some have held that the main heads of advice are honour [‘honestum’], expediency [‘utile’], and necessity [‘necessarium’]. […] However […], there is no necessity to do anything; and deliberation is about doing something. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 126–127, 3.8.22)135

|| 131 Cf. “in suadendo ac dissuadendo” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 124–125, 3.8.15). 132 See the above discussion and gloss concerning these rhetorico-topical queries (inter alia): “quis, quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis, cur, quomodo, quando” (Lausberg Elemente 25, §41). 133 On oratorical hypólepsis, see Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 240n.–242n.; 244n.; 246–251, with n.; 256n.; for applications: 257–262, 267–269; passim as to the term in question). 134 Mutatis mutandis, with regard to the speaker’s or defendant’s ‘make’ (qualis sit): how likely is it for a persona of a certain (general, apparent) ethos to have acted as is alleged; etc. 135 Such aligns with Aristotle’s accent (e.g. at “On Int.” 136–139, 18b–19a, IX; NE 330–331, 1139b, VI.ii.6; 344–345, 1141b, VI.vii.6; Rhet. 22–25, 1357a, I.ii.12, 14). Cf. subchs. 3.7, 4.1, 4.2.

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As Aristotle had also argued, the contingency of the future—as well as the affine issues of (free) choice or agency—are basic grounds for (rhetorical) debate.136 In line with the Stagirite’s noetic premise and pragmatic accent, Quintilian’s refutation of the opposite view takes the following form: where there is necessity[,] there is no room for deliberation, any more than when it is certain that something is impossible [‘fieri non posse’]. For all deliberation is about doubtful things [‘omnis enim deliberatio de dubiis est’]. The better view therefore is that of those who call the third main head dynatón [‘δυνατόν’], which we translate as possibile; this may seem a […] [‘dura’, hard—implying ‘to accept (for the Latin ear)’] word, but it is the only one we have. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 128–129, 3.8.25)137

Decisive for the nexus of ‘else-’ and ‘whatness’, the above basically comes down to intimating that (deliberative, forensic) speakers may offer reservations under all circumstances—provided the former prove capable of rendering the latter plausible. In the (virtual) realm of rhetoric, anything is—and naught im— possible. Such comprises what would be excluded logically: the contingency of the past. Words have a bearing on—and might downright craft—‘facts’. Not seldom, it will seem sufficient to insinuate that something can be else: Arguments may be taken not only from agreed facts [‘a confessis’], but from fictitious assumptions [‘a fictione’] […][—]the Greeks speak of this type as ‘hypothetical [‘καθ’ ὑπόθεσιν’] […]. Fiction [‘fingere’] means, first, putting forward something which, if true, would either destroy the point raised or strengthen it; and secondly, making the subject of the inquiry appear parallel to our fiction [‘id de quo quaeritur facere illi simile’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 414–415, 5.10.95–96)

As Aristotle stresses, likenesses (‘tà hómoia’) pertain to quality especially.138 By the same token, poetico-rhetorical verisimilitude (tò eikós) will be implicated. Above, Quintilian’s alignment of givens and fabrications might be taken to hint that the former can be (rendered indistinguishable from) their facture.139

|| 136 (See spec. “On Int.” 136–139, 18b–19a, IX; discussed in subch. 3.7, herein). 137 (Cf. Rhet. 22–23, 1357a, I.ii.12; qtd. in subch. 4.2). As to the Latin term, D. A. Russell records that this is its “earliest known occurrence” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 129n.). In passing, one could ponder the virtually incalculable inconveniences Romance languages—and also (the historical hybrid) English—would be facing sans the bequest of what is no longer a ‘hard’ word in the least. Once again, Horace’s poetic note proves significative more generally (at “Ars Poetica” 456, v.70–72). 138 “we predicate ‘like [‘ὅμοια’]’ and ‘unlike’ with a reference to quality only [‘κατὰ μόνας τὰς ποιότητας’]. For one thing is like to another in respect of some quality only” (“Cat.” 76–77, 11a, VIII). See subch. 3.5, herein. 139 A crafting of likeliness can effect that “fiction” may “pass for history” (Trimpi Muses 292).

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Accepted data are hypoleptic (having been ‘taken up’); hence rely on a source susceptible of manipulation. A semblance of consistency is of the essence; and may be responsible for the impression of—and any faith in—the latter’s extancy. Trimpi elucidates the nexus between contingency and the category at issue: When Quintilian says that the qualitative question (quale sit) is the kingdom and the power and the glory of the orator (hic regnat, hic imperat, hic sola vincit, 7.4.24), he distinguishes it from the question of occurrence (an sit) on the ground that coniectura must often introduce proofs from outside (extrinsecus)[;] or be bound too much to what actually, i.e. ‘historically’, happened (argumenta ex materia sumit). Whereas Hermagoras regarded ‘quality’ as accidental (κατὰ συμβεβηκός) with respect to the case itself, in that it lay outside the definitive limits of the controversy, Quintilian regarded it as definitive with respect to the abilities of the orator. The conjectural question, the principal origin of any issue, could, then, appear accidental in the logical sense of being ‘extrinsic’ to the proper exercise of the orator’s faculties. (Muses 265; with 361; “Quality” 22)140

As given by the Roman orator, the Hermagorean view would typify a logical, rigidly definitionist bent—already a reduction of Aristotle’s complexities.141 Technically, any qualification may affect a fact’s perceived possibility. The query ‘quale sit’ can have a feedback effect on the first status. Whether or not something is taken to have happened will be conditional on how its potentiality is qualified (or colored)—‘in utramque partem vel in plures’.

|| 140 See the context of Trimpi’s seminal reading as to an “increasing predominance of qualitas in rhetoric”; and an “emphasis upon the orator’s capacities as artist to play upon the emotions of the audience” (Muses 265): “All knowledge (ἐπιστήμη = ἐπί + ἵστημι) is the discovery of a ground upon which to stand, […] of a resting place (στάσις) within the continuum (κίνησις) from which to observe what is continuous. In selecting a status, or position, from which to persuade an audience that it has sufficient knowledge to judge certain actions in a certain way, the orator is most free to make up a convincing interpretation of events out of considerations of qualitas. For the most compelling impressions on the imagination and emotions of his listeners will be of sensory and circumstantial qualities” (Muses 265; plus “Winters” 200n.). 141 With characteristic pragmatism, Aristotle acknowledges the common state of affairs: “in dealing with certain persons, even if we possessed the most accurate scientific knowledge [‘τὴν ἀκριβεστάτην (…) ἐπιστήμην’], we should not find it easy to persuade them by the employment of knowledge. For scientific discourse is concerned with instruction, but in the case of such persons instruction is impossible; our proofs and arguments must rest on generally accepted principles […], when […] convers[ing] with the multitude” (Rhet. 10–11, 1355a, I.i.12; cf. 288– 289, 1395b, II.xxii.3; and 11n.; with “Top.” 276–277, 101a, I.ii). See the philosopher’s accent on “the weakness [‘ἀσθένειαν’] of the audiences: the poets follow, and pander to the taste of, the spectators” (“Poetics” 72–73, 1453a, §13); likewise on the flatterably self-centered “vulgarity [‘φορτικότητα’] of the hearers” (Rhet. 287, 1395b, II.xxi.15; plus 286n.); on their “corruption [‘μοχθηρίαν’]” (Rhet. 346–347, 1403b–1404a, II.i.4 and 5; with “φορτικὸν”).

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By implication, (almost) anything may be rendered contingent (by virtue of words)—including the past; and especially should a persuasive animal choose for it to be (received as seeming) so.142 An orator’s grasp of the situation will conduce to—even decide on—the assumptions present (therein). The art par excellence proceeds from (and thrives on) the assumption that anything is—else may be given the impression of seeming—possible. Rhetoricians reckon with, exploit, accidentia. Qua condition of possibility for liberal variation, contingency facilitates a skillful application of eloquence. Even if otherwise proven beyond doubt, the query as to whether something has taken place (an sit) is subject to elseness (including nonoccurrence)—as the orator may please; provided the corresponding recipients are disposed to yield. A word ‘factured’, and hardly incidentally, from the (neuter perfect passive) participle of ‘facere’, a rhetorical ‘fact’ is what those involved—respectively the other side(s)—can or might be made to believe as being just that and so.143 The results of what are presumed to be ‘hard’ sciences—be they statistically validated, algorithm-based, verified by repeated experiments under supposedly ‘identical’ conditions, or the like—are merely means to an end. ‘Truth’ is precisely whatever might be received as such—while effecting or occasioning actions considered to be advantageous (by some party involved).144 As Trimpi stresses, the system of “status” is a (topical) fund for conceivable “arguments”; hence also for potential positions—for “ways of seeing the action itself” (Muses 258; “Quality” 15).145 A taking of liberties will be involved.

|| 142 Qua must for human freedom, a semblance of contingency might be crafted deliberately. 143 Küpper remarks “that there can be no facts without linguist[ic] modeling” (n. to the ms. of the present study; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm). Generally, see Barnhart/Steinmetz (364, s.v. ‘fact’); Onions et al. (341, s.v. ‘fact’). Frede’s ensuing assertion might seem valid in logic (though that may also be questioned): “in the case of propositions about the present or past […] the facts are in each case settled” (40; cf. 56). Nothing could be further from everyday experience—even sans Sophistic manipulations. With respect to (and citing) Valéry, Blumenberg stresses: “das, was man für das Gegebene hält, sei schon immer une fabrication” (“Sokrates [1964]” 315; “Sokrates [2001]” 104). See Amslinger (35; 197; 207); and the onset of ch. 13, herein. 144 ‘La verità omologata ovvero effettuale’—cf. Machiavelli (Principe 102, XV.3); and Kablitz on the contingency of (being in on the) truth (more orthodoxly; “Nachahmung” 107; 111; 117; 126). 145 “The discrimination of status is not just that of kinds of arguments about action[,] but of ways of seeing the action itself” (Trimpi Muses 258). “Quintilian’s description of the various systems of status” logs “the effort […] to gain a ‘point’ from which to see events in perspective, to determine the indeterminate” (Muses 257; with Inst. Orat. 3–5. 48–101, 3.6.1–104). This artful take might be applied to cases of chance, given as ‘aóriston’ by Aristotle (cf. e.g. Phys. 1–4. 148– 149, 196b, II.v; 152–155, 197a, II.v; “Met. 10–14” 92–93, 1065b, XI.viii.9; “Prior An.” 256–257, 32b, I.xiii; Met. 1–9. 290–291, 1025a, V.xxx.3; Rhet. 110–111, 1369a, I.x.12). See subchs. 3.4 to 3.6.

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Perception marks a poetic performance per se. Presupposing a faculty for— and awareness of—otherwiseness, perspectivism pertains to those (distinctly) human capacities as might be exploited to rhetorical ends: victory, ultimately.146 Via sundry forms of qualifying, the theoretico-pragmatic implications of an oratorical concept of contingency are applicable to any tense.147 Having asked ‘whether something is at all’ (an sit), ‘how a given thing is defined’ (quid sit), the response to the question as to ‘the makes’ something may have, or receive, will be the fulcrum of rhetoric (“factum esse constat, quale sit factum quaeritur”, Inst. Orat. 6–8. 236, 7.4.3).148 Quintilian stresses that this is where ‘eloquence reigns, dominates, prevails’ (“hic regnat, hic imperat, hic sola vincit”)—since said status “gives the most scope for the orator’s craft”, in terms of ‘ingenuity on any side’ (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 248–251, 7.4.23–24; with Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.2). Such polyfunctional verbal processing is enabled by contingency: that something may be else, or not at all (even simultaneously, if virtually); or seem to be from one point of view, though not from another. While always taking temporal conditions for granted in general, said conception is thought to concern future matters specifically, and only—from a logical perspective.149 Cognizant of humankind’s quasi habitual (if often tacit) reckoning with contingency, rhetoricians have always freely and methodically exploited its potentials with respect to things present and past, as well—causing mere possibilities to seem probable (eikós), and literally plausible; crafting credibility for sheer eventualities; rendering highly likely (verisimile) any ‘maybe’ as might prove expedient in a particular case, under the given circumstances. More problematically, this eloquent modus is also susceptible of the reverse. An experienced orator will be able to effect a conjectural factuality for what

|| 146 Cf. subch. 9.3. On the concluding accent above, see Mayfield (“Interplay” 18n.–19n.)— spec. as to Hobbes, Blumenberg (with “Annäher. [2001]” 428); plus subch. 8.3.2, herein. 147 In Aristotle, the latter are referred to as usually susceptible of the former (at “Cat.” 74–75, 10b, VIII; plus 77, 11a, VIII). See subch. 3.5, herein. 148 Cf. Lausberg: “von der coniectura über die finitio zur qualitas” (Handbuch 97, §174; with 67, §91)—‘from conjecture via definition to quality’. See Trimpi: “an sit, does something exist, or did something happen”; “quid sit, if it exists or did happen, what is it”; “quale sit, given its existence and definition, what kind of a thing or act is it—that is, how did it come to be as it is or to have happened as it did” (Muses 354). “Once we accept the existence of a thing, οὐσία or an sit, the mind defines it both quantitatively, quid sit, and qualitatively, quale sit” (Muses 355). “The empirical quantitative measure of the historiae naturalium and the evaluative qualitative measure of the studia humanitatis exist only in terms of each other and by virtue of there being something there to measure in the first place. We begin, always, with the an sit” (Muses 361). 149 Cf. Aristotle (“On Int.” 132–141, 18b–19a, ix; NE 331, 1139b, VI.ii.6); subchs. 3.7, 4.1, herein.

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would else seem to be excluded logically; to endow fabrications with an air of authenticity; to pass off otherwise patent fictions as potentially self-evident. As human history amply evinces, the sway of said and such processes need not be limited to local, momentary, incidental—or otherwise particularized— phenomena. Myriad are the phantásmata of men; countless their creeds, caprices; limitless their whims and willfulness. While respectively capacitated (generally speaking), the animal in question may appear to take an almost global delight in displaying a tendency to atrophy any attempts at rationality.150

4.4 ‘Naked Contingency’ Blumenberg’s Take on ‘The Modern Age’ la sérénité avec laquelle S. Thomas explique Aristote et l’indifférence absolue qu’il paraît manifester, sauf dans sa quatorzième leçon, à l’égard des problèmes contemporains, ne doivent pas nous faire illusion. —Isaac (125–126)151 Die nackte Kontingenz der Welt[.] —Blumenberg (Arbeit 681)152

Aristotelian philosophy—bounding chance as an epiphenomenon—remains the measure for Scholastic theorizing of all couleurs.153 This includes such as pass

|| 150 See Einstein (8–9; 23; 68–70; and spec. 105). Needless to say, a reasonable approach would indeed comprise reckoning with the possibility of another’s rationality, even if (currently) inapparent to the one engaged in taking perspectives. Cf. chs. 12 and 13, herein. 151 “the serenity wherewith […] Thomas [Aquinas] explicates Aristotle[,] and the complete indifference he appears to manifest, apart from his fourteenth lesson, as regards the contemporary problems, should put us under no illusion” (trans. dsm). Subch. 4.4 is spec. indebted to Küpper’s diachronico-discursive synopsis in his opus magnum (Discursive 222–292; with Schweigen 16–19). Perusal thereof is indispensable for a more comprehensive narrative— which can only be offered in the barest outlines here (see subch. 6.5). 152 “The naked contingency of the world” (trans. dsm). Cf. “Unser ganzes Weltbild beruht auf Sätzen, die des Zusatzes bedürfen, es könne so sein, müsse es aber nicht” (Die nackte Wahrheit 84). See Küpper: “in Late Med[ieval] Nominalism”, “[n]ot only the linguist[ic] modeling of the ‘world’ is contingent—but the world itself is so, factually, ‘objectively’. This […] leads to the remarkable accentuation of the complex [called] ‘contingency’ in Early Modern lit[erature]” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm). See below; and spec. subch. 6.5, herein. 153 In “Boethius”, Kretzmann observes a “deliberate effort to restrict the scope of chance” (“Nos Ipsi” 41; cf. 42). Küpper emphasizes: “the attempt at domesticating the irrationalism inscribed into Augustinian monotheism by recourse to the Aristotelian system […] is tied to the name of Thomas Aquinas” (“Ordnung” 217; trans. dsm).

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beyond it.154 For Christian additives alter the overall state of play, rendering it discursively ‘implosive’—latently so until, and including, Aquinas; openly with Tempier, at the latest.155 The Stagirite’s contingency becomes conceivable: As a consequence of the Condemnation of 1277, […] many were made aware that things might be quite otherwise than had been dreamt of in Aristotle’s philosophy. (Grant 539)156

|| 154 Cf. spec. the axiomatic status of the ensuing: “Ex necessario non sequitur contingens” (Burley qtd. in: Boh “Consequences” 312n.). Accordingly: “if a premiss of a valid argument is contingent so is its conclusion. Hence if some sentences about the future are contingent, so must be any sentences they entail” (Normore “Divine” 13). “Unlike Aquinas, Scotus holds that if any effect is to be contingent[,] the activity of the first cause on which that effect depends must be contingent”, as well (“Future” 368). Cf. Ockham’s report: “contingency in things can be preserved only if the first cause […] causes contingently” (“Ordin. 38–39” 81, 38.B; with “Comment. De int. 9” 106, as to 19a39–19b4). On the Aquinate’s take, see Wippel (233n.; 238n.): “The first cause itself transcends the order of necessity and contingency” (221). Cf. and contrast the Stagirite (spec. “Coming-to-Be” 324–325, 337b, II.11; with 324n.–325n.). See Blumenberg (Beiträge 75); Sommer: “wegen […]eines zufälligen Anfangs, selbst zufällig” (“Zufall” 98). Cf. subchs. 3.3, 3.6, herein. Generally, “‘thought experiments’ in the late Middle Ages were often made in terms of Aristotelian principles even though the conditions imagined were ‘contrary to fact’ and impossible within Aristotelian natural philosophy” (Grant 539). 155 Commenting on de int. 9, Aquinas “consacre trois grandes leçons, I, 13 à 15, au délicat problème de la contingence et du libre arbitre”; “dans une longue digression […] il discute […] les conceptions stoïcienne, astrologique et théologique de la fatalité. Or il suffit de parcourir les Errores philosopharum de Gilles de Rome (vers 1270) et de relire les propositions condamnées à Paris par […] Tempier le 10 décembre 1270 et le 7 mars 1277 pour se convaincre de l’extrême actualité du débat: une dizaine de thèses dans la première série […] et une quinzaine au moins sur deux cent dix-neuf dans la troisième, sont réfutées de biais ou de front par notre docteur dans sa quatorzième leçon” (Isaac 121–122; see 98n.). Grant stresses: “The novel supernatural alternatives considered in the aftermath of the Condemnation conditioned scholastics to contemplate physical possibilities outside the ken of Aristotelian natural philosophy, and frequently in direct conflict with it; […] a concern with such possibilities became a characteristic of late medieval scholastic thought. […] In exploring the consequences of these possibilities, concepts contrary to Aristotelian physics and cosmology were found plausible rather than impossible” (538); “mere possibility […] suggested […] actual existence” (539). 156 Piché’s/Lafleur’s critico-bilingual ed. of the Parisian condemnation is indispensable. Each entry is to be read as “articulus condempnatus contradicentis” (80n.). The focal one for the task at hand: “Quod nichil fit a casu [‘Rien ne se produit par hasard’], set omnia de necessitate eueniunt, et quod futura que erunt, de necessitate erunt, et que non erunt, impossibile est esse; et quod nichil euenit contingenter [‘rien ne se produit de manière contingente’], considerando omnes causas. – Error, quia concursus causarum est de diffinitione casualis [‘du hasard’], ‹ut dicit boetius› libro de consolatione” (Tempier 86–87, §21[102]; Medieval Latin spelling retained; see “Collectio errorum” 309, XIV.1[21]; Boethius “Phil. Consolat.” 386–389, V.i.19–58.prose; but cf. and contrast 428–429, V.vi.94–106.prose). Kilwardby also condemns “quod omnis propositio de futuro vera est necessaria” (176, ‘In Logicalibus’, §8). With Isaac: “8. Toute proposition vraie

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The decisive ingredient for said volatility is tied to Augustine’s thought.157 Under the pressure of Neo-Platonizing and Gnostico-Manichean dualisms, the Bishop of Hippo had ‘radicalized’ the concept at issue.158 Küpper accentuates: Augustine’s theology, especially the abysmal theology of Predestination, constitutes the arch-text of the Occidental consciousness of contingency [‘Kontingenzbewußtsein’][.] (“Ordnung” 209n.; trans. dsm; with 215)159

In the first place, his rigorous monotheism could not accept other—and be it subordinate—deities besides the One (Ex 20:3, 23:13).160 Conceived along the lines of an authoritarian potentate, said God is ‘absolutistic’ outright.161

|| portant sur le futur est nécessaire. […] La huitième [‘thèse’] constitue évidemment un nouvel écho des disputes relatives aux futurs contingents: il est inutile d’y insister” (124–125). Luther will beg to differ: “Adeo stat et permanet in[vi]cta sententia, Omnia necessitate fieri” (“De servo arb.” 254, WA617, StA192; see 252–254). Affine entries equally condemned: “Quod causa prima non posset plures mundos facere” (Tempier 90, §34[27]; cf. “Collectio errorum” 293, VI.9[34]); “[et] non habet scientiam futurorum contingentium” (92, §42[15]; see 98, §56[14]; 138, §195[94]; “Collectio errorum” 293, VI.14[42]; 295, §28[56]). “Quod deus non potest esse causa noui facti, nec potest aliquid de nouo producere” (94, §48[22]; cf. 100, §62[25]; 108–111, §98[84]–99[83]; 112, §107[112]; 136, §185[188]; “Collectio errorum” 294, VI.20[48]); “[et] non potest irregulariter, id est, alio modo quam mouet, mouere aliquid, quia in eo non est diuersitas uolontatis” (96, §50[23]; cf. 96, §53[20]–54[67]; 98, §55[30]; “Collectio errorum” 294, VI.22[50]). On the above, see spec. Küpper (Discursive 253–255; entfesselte Signifikanz 16n.; “Ordnung” 174n.; 219; “Recusatio der Moderne” 415–416, 416n.–417n.; Schweigen 17; “Trad. Cosmos” 378n.; “Medical” 121–122). 157 Cf. Blumenberg (Beiträge 55–56); Korolec: “In the second half of the thirteenth century[,] […] writers of the Franciscan school began to espouse a radical form of voluntarism” (636). “One who was influenced [there]by […] was the bishop of Paris, Stephen Tempier, who in 1277 condemned a number of propositions concerning freedom of choice” (637); “voluntarism […] had far the greater influence on the European mind in the […] succeeding centuries” (641). 158 Cf. Blumenberg as to “de[n] Abgrund der Frage, ob der Mensch […] überhaupt noch fragen könne. Die Antwort ist knapp und bitter: Der Begriff eines absoluten Willens schließt die Frage nach dem Grund seiner Akte aus. […] Quare fecit deus caelum et terram? […] Quia voluit. In dieser […] Sequenz […] prallen zwei Geisteswelten aufeinander” (GKW I. 213; cf. “Kosmos” 68). 159 See Küpper (Discursive 236–237; Schweigen 17, 17n.); and the n. on Augustine, below. 160 Dt 5:7, 6:14, 11:16, 11:28; Jdgs 2:17, 2:19, 10:13; 2Kgs 17:35–38; Jer 13:10, 16:11, 25:6. Küpper: “Augustin ist strikter Monotheist. Alles, was ist, ist von Gott” (Schweigen 35). Cf. Heuß (16). 161 See Blumenberg: “Das Erbe des […] Nominalismus war ein Gottesbild, an dem die Züge der absoluten Souveränität und […] Willkür aufs äußerste herausgetrieben worden waren. In Gott war unbedingte Selbstverfügung, gesetzlose Selbstsetzung; er war der ‘mutabilissimus Deus’, die ‘ipsissima libertas’” (“Kant” 555; see Zambon Nachleuchten 74). Babylonian, Assyrian, Persian—above all, Egyptian—god-kings might come to mind as quasi blueprints. Akhenaton’s (Echnaton’s) power political decision against the world’s ‘repleteness with gods’ is not unlikely to have launched the basic structures of monotheism as are globally virulent, in several strains.

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Hence any matter or form is seen to come down to that singular Being. All causalities must be contingent upon His voluntas alone (qua ultimate reason).162 This perceived state of play bars inquisitiveness beyond the consummate arché represented by (Augustine’s ventriloquizing of) the Deity’s ‘quia vult’—being a ‘voluit’ always already, as far as that curious animal is concerned.163 Whatever is cannot but be dependent on His will—or whim, from a human(e) viewpoint.164

|| 162 Cf. “voluntas Dei omnium quæ sunt, ipsa sit causa. Si enim habet causam voluntas Dei, est aliquid quod antecedat voluntas Dei, quod nefas est credere” (Augustine “Contra Manich.” 175, I.ii.4). With Blumenberg: “Der Begriff eines absoluten Willens schließt die Frage nach dem Grund seiner Akte aus” (GKW I. 213; cf. “Kosmos” 68). He cites Duns Scotus, who adopts the Augustinian bent: “nulla est causa, nisi quia voluntas est voluntas” (at Legitimität 194n.); also Ockham: “quia vult, nec est alia causa quaerenda” (in: Legitimität 170; cf. 181). Blumenberg refers to “Duns Skotus” as “d e [ n ] kritischen Geist der Hochscholastik” (Beiträge 77)— whom he perused intensely, spec. for his dissertation (see Dahlke/Laarmann 219). 163 Cf. Augustine: “Qui ergo dicit, Quare fecit Deus cœlum et terram? respondendum est ei, Quia voluit […]. Qui autem dicit, Quare voluit facere cœlum et terram? majus aliquid quærit quam est voluntas Dei: nihil autem majus inveniri potest. Compescat ergo se humana temeritas, et id quod non est non quærat, ne id quod est non inveniat” (“Contra Manich.” 175, I.ii.4). With Blumenberg: “Seitdem […] Augustin auf die Frage, warum Gott die Welt geschaffen habe, mit dem ‘Quia voluit’ geantwortet hatte […], beruhte die Welt auf einem unbefragbaren Hoheitsakt” (“Hylemorph.” 1794; see Beiträge 56, 56n.–57n.). “Das Quia voluit war nichts und alles” (Verführbarkeit 114–115). “Die Frage soll in der Frage ihren Grund finden, oder genauer: sie soll keinen Grund finden – das ist der vollendete Nominalismus” (“Marginalien” 133). This “Augustinian answer (much rather: dismissal of [the] question)” (Geistesgeschichte 127n.; trans. dsm; cf. spec. Lebenswelt 90; Wirklichkeiten 86; Phänomen. 133)—at once the “Nominalist standard formula” (Geistesgeschichte 121; trans. dsm; see 121; Legitimität 166; 200)—marks a sort of “organ point” (Küpper “Ordnung” 215; trans. dsm) or ground swell in Blumenberg’s own œuvre (cf. e.g. “Marginalien” 133; “Autonomie” 789; “Kosmos” 68; “Augustins Anteil” 46; 50; GKW I. 168; 213; “Nachahmung [2001]” 39; Verführbarkeit 114–115; Arbeit 288; Geistesgeschichte 109; 117–118; 121; 127n.; Lebenswelt 90; Wirklichkeiten 86; Phänomen. 133; Legitimität 166; 170, on Ockham: 181; and Duns Scotus: 194n.; 200, 200n.). See Küpper (“Trad. Cosmos” 376n.; “Episteme” 117, 117n.; “Ordnung” 215n.; on Ockham: 175n.); Mayfield (Artful 100n.; 102–103; 105; 168); Flasch (87–88; 346; passim); Zambon (Nachleuchten 71–72). 164 On the “augustinisch-franziskanische[…] Tradition”, Blumenberg remarks: “die Freiheit des göttlichen Willens ist prinzipiell uneinsichtig und unbegründet, das Quia voluit ist die letzte Antwort auf die Frage nach der Verbindlichkeit des göttlichen Gebotes” (“Autonomie” 789). Diachronically, he logs: “Leibniz [‘stellt’] die völlige Äquivalenz zwischen dem System des absoluten Willens und dem […] des absoluten Zufalls, zwischen Voluntarismus und Atomismus fest” (Legitimität 165; with Geistesgeschichte 108–109). “Der nominalistische Gott ist der überflüssige Gott, er kann durch den Zufall […] ersetzt werden” (Legitimität 165; cf. Wetz Blumenberg 32). Everything is replaceable—hence ‘god’, as well. See Mayfield (Artful 101n.; 103–104, 104n.; 123; 168; 181n.)—in a Machiavellian context. Regarding particulars, Küpper stresses “daß der christliche Monotheismus mit der gratuitas ein Prinzip in den Mittelpunkt

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Virtually, ‘God’ serves as yet another name for contingency or chance— completely inaccessible to, and by, human rationality.165 ‘All is feasible, nothing impossible, with Him’ (Lk 1:37).166 As Grant stresses: Nowhere is the spirit of the [1277] Condemnation better revealed than in Article 147, which condemned the opinion ‘That the absolutely impossible cannot be done by God or another agent’, if ‘‘impossible’ is understood according to nature’. (538)167

By implication, all may well be otherwise, or not (respectively no longer) in any way soever. Under these questionable auspices, there is always “the terrifying possibility of arbitrary divine intervention” (Courtenay 243).168 Such necessarily comprises what has been, is, and will be created by contingency ex- and incarnate—the material world in its entirety. Hence the stability of the ‘kósmos’, the eternity of the universe, must seem presumptuous.169 || stellt, das von der Frivolität mundaner Beliebigkeit und damit den Eigenschaften der paganantiken Fortuna nur dadurch getrennt ist, daß einem deus omnipotens menschliche Kategorien dieser Art inkommensurabel sind” (“Episteme” 117). Accordingly, there can be “kein anderes Fazit […] als das […] Augustinische ‘quia vult’” (“Episteme” 117)—utterly arbitrary whimfulness. 165 Küpper indicates “was die gegebene Realität monotheistisch gesehen ist: Kontingenz” (“Ordnung” 219n.). He stresses: “die ubiquitäre Akzentuierung der göttlichen Allmacht[—]die den Orgelpunkt seiner [sc. Augustine’s] Theologie darstellt und die immer ein Wirken meint, das sich menschlichem Begreifen entzieht[—]impliziert, was hier unausgesprochen bleibt: daß Providenz sich menschlicherseits nur manifestieren kann als Kontingenz” (“Ordnung” 215). Cf. Blumenberg: “Schöpfung […] ist willentliche Setzung, und damit ist der Seinsgrund selbst w i l l e n t l i c h . Alle deutenden Zugriffe, ihn zu rationalisieren und motivieren, müssen an dieser absoluten Willentlichkeit scheitern” (Beiträge 56). 166 “For with God nothing shall be impossible” (KJV); “quia non erit impossibile apud Deum omne verbum” (Vulgate); “ὅτι οὐκ ἀδυνατήσει παρὰ τοῦ θεοῦ πᾶν ῥῆμα” (SBLGNT). In all likelihood, the latter might be trans. as ‘res’—the Deity’s words being equivalent to deeds (as per Gen 1:3, Jn 1:1). Cf. “Denn bei Gott ist kein Ding unmöglich” (LUTH1545); and subch. 7.2.3. 167 See Tempier: “Quod impossibile simpliciter non potest fieri a deo, uel ab agente alio. – Error, si de impossibili secundum naturam intelligatur” (124, §147[17]). Generally, cf. Boh (“Omnipotence” 188). Courtenay accentuates: “1277 marked a victory for the concept of divine omnipotence, since many of the condemned articles restricted the freedom of God and affirmed the necessity of the world and the laws of nature” (252–253). 168 He adds: “First in England, then at Paris and elsewhere on the Continent, theologians became fascinated with the interplay between divine decrees and moments of time […]. They were interested […] in those temporary suspensions or changes across time which could make what was once false, true, and what was once true false” (Courtenay 256); “to the degree that such examples illustrate the transcendent power of God, answerable to no one, they also suggest the image of a capricious, arbitrary lord” (257). 169 See Piché/Lafleur on the repercussions of Boethius’ treatise De aeternitate mundi (191– 225). Generally, cf. Blumenberg (Beiträge 40–41, 40n.–41n.; 51; 76); with Zambon—“Entweder

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Consequently, Christian discourses alter the Stagirite’s respective theory at its very foundation, “compell[ing] a revalorization of th[is] concept […] not conceivable until that point” (Küpper “Ordnung” 214–215; trans. dsm).170 Blumenberg’s corresponding assessment will seem reasonable: Contingency is one of the few concepts of specifically Christian provenance in the history of […] metaphysics, even though it developed from a Latinization of Aristotelian logic[.] (“Kontingenz” 1793; trans. dsm; bold emphasis removed from the first term cited)171

Given the ‘radical’ change in that principle now lodging in the systematic slot or ‘seat’ formerly held by the Stagirite’s ‘prime mover’, the potential for elseness turns downright elemental. Variously qualifiable as sheer, pure, utter, ‘naked’, et caetera, it is no longer delimited by anything.172 God’s will—the ‘figuration of || eine seit je existierende Welt oder der Inbegriff der Allmacht: Beides kann man nicht haben” (Nachleuchten 69). Likewise Küpper: “Blumenberg isoliert die Präsenz der Vorstellung einer kontingenten Welt in dem ‘quia voluit’” (“Ordnung” 215n.; with 175n.; “Episteme” 117, 117n.); Mayfield (Artful 100n.; 102–103; 105; 168). It might be needful to contemplate the extent to which the notion of ‘cosmos’ is at all applicable to Judeo-Christian discourses. Gen 1:4, 1:10, 1:12, 1:18, 1:21, 1:25, spec. 1:31 (“Viditque Deus cuncta quae fecerat, et erant valde bona”, Vulgate; “πάντα […] καλὰ λίαν”, Septuaginta) are certainly compatible with the meaning of ‘beautiful order’. Yet said affirmation ends abruptly, as soon as man enters at Gen 2. The scene is indeed ‘very good’; its agents and protagonists with a difference (Gen 3:5, 3:22). 170 Cf. “In christlicher Zeit steigt das Kontingente vom Status einer Restmenge eines wohlgeordneten Weltzusammenhangs (‘Kosmos’) zum […] diachronen Seinsprinzip einer Welt auf, welche einem Willen untersteht, dessen Akte absolut[,] […] nicht konzeptuell reduzierbar sind” (“Ordnung” 215–216). See Vogt: “Die Vorstellung einer contingentia mundi […] verleiht dem Kontingenzbegriff eine unerhörte, […] unüberbietbare ontologische Relevanz” (24; with 194–214). Joas: “es kommt […] etwas grundlegend Neues hinzu” (plus “Brisanz”, 12; cf. 13). 171 He further remarks: “Boethius […] übersetzt in den beiden Kommentaren zur Hermeneutik ἐνδέχεσθαι mit ‘contingere’” (“Kontingenz” 1793; cf. GKW I. 168). Generally, see Blumenberg (Lebensthemen 145; Beiträge 23; 25; 125); Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 35); Vogt (64); Cosentino (62–63); Zambon (Nachleuchten 72, 72n.). It must seem inexplicable why Flasch—apparently— excludes Blumenberg’s 1959 article (“Kontingenz” 1793–1794) from his ‘religio-philosophical’ précis (Flasch 335–362); nor mentions it in his gloss on the “Vorarbeiten” for “Legitimität der Neuzeit” (471, 471n.). His ‘bibliographical indications’ are scarce, selective, partly flawed even in the 2nd ed. used (601–602); at any rate, they do not synopsize the Blumenbergian texts read— being cited ad locos solely. Withal, the term ‘contingency’—despite its centrality—does not appear in Flasch’s (problematic) index either (618). Perchance, this oversight (if such it be) is downright structural. Bent on disagreeing over certain niceties ostensibly deemed unpalatable, his rather profuse criticism of Blumenberg (Flasch passim; spec. 583–600) does not seem to adequately appreciate the abysmal brisance and virulence of the phenomenon at issue. 172 As to the general formulation of his concept and theory of ‘refunctionalization’—or else, ‘redisposition’, ‘reallocation’, ‘recasting’ (the oft-encountered trans. as ‘reoccupation’ being

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contingency’ (see Küpper “Episteme” 118)—is plainly ‘absolute’.173 Such could not be hindered or prevented; much less negated or gainsaid effectually.174 It is Blumenberg’s merit to have brought this phenomenon’s structural significance and continuing virulence to the forefront of critical or scholarly attention.175 Initially and especially, this will concern the role it seems likely to

|| more than infelicitous, misleading; cf. “Zukunft” 135)—see Blumenberg (“Umbesetzung der vakanten Position”, Legitimität 52; plus 57–58; 60; 70–71, 70n.; spec. 74–75, 79; 87–88; 98–99; 119; 127; 157; 166–167; 175; 257; 395; 399; 406; passim). For the present context: “Es versteht sich fast von selbst, daß der spekulative Ägypter [sc. ‘Origenes’] nicht gewagt hat, seinen Grundgedanken der ‘Umbesetzung’ aller Weltrollen auf Gott zu extrapolieren” (“Teufel” N4; with Matthäuspassion 16). On the whole: “Entscheidend blieb, daß so einmal gedacht worden war, um zu bestimmen, was durch Umbesetzung noch getan werden konnte, nachdem Bedürfnis und Ausnutzung von Wissen nicht aus der Welt zu schaffen waren” (Lebenszeit 206). For further mentions and applications, see Blumenberg (“Eschatologie” 165; “Zukunft” 134– 135; “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 91–92; 113; 116; 132; especially “‘Säkularisation’” 250; 257; “Staatstheorie” 138; “‘Mon Faust’” 46; Lebenszeit 51; 199; 203; 206; 253n.; Lachen 42–61; GKW II. 596; Höhlen. 38; generally 183–299, spec. 296; 301–411, particularly 303–305, 365–366; Begriffe 17; “Wirkungspotential [2001]” 380–381; “Annäher. [2001]” 420, 426; Arbeit 39; 92; 529; Beschreibung 435; Sachen 213; spec. Quellen 160; Goethe 25; zur Technik 142–143). On said concept and theory: Marquard (“Laudatio” 54; “Entlastung [1998]” XXII; Apologie 77); Kablitz (Neuzeit 35–40); Küpper (“Ordnung” 173n.; 200; 203); Mayfield (Artful 107n.; 170n.; “Against” 23n.; “hypólepsis” 261n.; Ventriloquism 3n.; 97n.; 181n.). See Sommer (“Nachwort [2006]” 904); Schmitz/Stiegler (“Ed. Notiz [2009]” 142–143); Heidgen/Koch/Köhler (13); Flasch (511); KoppOberstebrink (passim, cum grano salis). In application, cf. subchs. 4.4, 6.5, 7.1.1–2, 11.1.1, 11.2.2. 173 See Küpper: “die allesamt tautologischen Namen, mit denen die monotheistischen Systeme ihren Gott bezeichnen […] sind […] eine Allegorie dessen, was philosophisch Kontingenz heißt” (“Episteme” 117). “Die Kontingenz ist der Gott der klassischen Episteme” (“Episteme” 121); “jenen einen Gott, den unsere Kultur, bis auf den heutigen Tag, kennt und der sich im Konzept der Kontingenz kristallisiert” (“Episteme” 121); as well as the quote above. 174 Contradiction is possible in the realm of—and enabled by—contingency. Yet the latter cannot be invalidated as such—or else the result is utter determinism. As to a potential for ‘otherwiseness’ qua refutation’s condition of conceivability, see ch. 8, herein. 175 Küpper comments: “During Modernity proper, the philosopher, who placed the concept of ‘contingency’ at center stage in the most sustained manner, is Blumenberg. Initially[,] this manifests itself in three areas, which are of pivotal relevance to his work: in the description of the commencement of Modernity[;] the reflections on aesthetics[;] […] most comprehensively, in his anthropology. Yet Blumenberg not only thought about ‘c[ontingency]’ as an adequate category for describing certain, specific phenomena of intellectual history and philosophy. He also reflected on, and then implemented in his philosoph[ical] discourse, what this may mean: a philosophy ([qu]a discourse on [something] ‘universal’ [‘Allgemeines’]), which is conscious of the fact that [something] atemporally and necessarily universal does not exist[;] i.e. philosophizing under the auspices of contingency” (n. to the ms. of the present study; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm). Flasch accentuates: “Blumenberg[…] [‘war’] Fachmann für die Philosophie

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have played in the emergence of ‘The Modern Age’ (soi-disant).176 Once more, the latter is inextricably tied to the Bishop of Hippo. A revival of his thought— for (entirely) orthodox reasons initially—eventually resulted in a variety of noetic ‘fault lines’ as cause(d) momentous, not only discursive, ‘irruptions’.177 Nominalism’s Augustinianizing ‘ultimatization’ of Divine omnipotence (or willfulness) rendered any (re-)subjugation of chance or potential otherwiseness unfeasible.178 While the logico-philosophical outlines of Aristotle’s foundational conceptualization remained authoritative—and continue to be expedient—the field and range of applications was broadened in a most fundamental way.179 At its most ‘radical’ (etymologically), the Augustinian and Nominalist allpurpose formula for their Deity—‘quia vult’—affects the world, and matter itself. In the Stagirite’s system, the latter had only allowed for relative, not absolute contingency.180 Being the condition of possibility for transmutations of any kind,

|| des Mittelalters […]. Nur dank dieser Vorbereitung konnte er die geschichtliche Stellung der frühneuzeitlichen Autoren neu bestimmen” (224; cf. 57, 87, 593). 176 While contested—and not without reason—Blumenberg’s theory has not been replaced by a more plausible tale. See Küpper’s gloss (“Ordnung” 173n.); with the detailed discussion, critical reassessment, pertinent caveats on the part of Kablitz (Neuzeit 17–76; spec. 21, 26n.– 27n., 30, 33–34). The account offered in the philosopher’s early opus magnum may be taken to tender a not improbable narrative of basic drifts, conceivable ground swells, propelling factors (see Legitimität passim). Even if not all speculations (‘Gnosis’) and terminologies (‘legitimacy’, et alia) are said to hold: the accent on contingency qua ‘enabling factor’ will remain. See Küpper (Discursive 236–237; 259; 460; Diskurs-Renovatio 461n.; “Ordnung” 182n.; 220). 177 The semantico-figurative field signaled is to render this (highly) abstract matter somewhat more vivid. Cf. Küpper: ‘Ruptures’ (Discursive 222; with 267); “epochal break” (Discursive 268; plus 222, 229, 243n.; 287); “Bruchlinie” (“Ordnung” 201n.; with 174n., 219); “Explosion” (“Ordnung” 214; with 174; Discursive 255: “inherent explosiveness”; cf. “Philology” 135; 146). 178 See Küpper: “Absolutsetzung des Allmachtsgedankens” (Schweigen 37; with 37n.; also 50, 51n.). Cf. Kablitz (“Verwandlung” 328n.–330n.); Courtenay: “divine omnipotence and the contingency of temporal events” are “two interrelated problems that remained major issues throughout the […] Middle Ages” (244); and beyond. See Sommer (“Zufall” 100–101; 108–109; 111); Zambon (Nachleuchten 68–89; here spec. 69–74). Flasch stresses: “Blumenbergs Bild vom Zusammenbruch des Mittelalters wird […] von der Rolle des ‘Willkürgottes’ dominiert” (279; cf. 87, 202, 281, 283; 346; 352; 495–496; 510–524, spec. 513; 583; 599; and passim). 179 Not only is it valid to proceed from, but also expedient to have methodical recourse to, Aristotle’s descriptions of contingency and chance. Cf. subchs. 3.1 to 3.7, and 4.1 to 4.3, herein. 180 See subch. 3.2, herein. Blumenberg stresses: “Nicht das Überhaupt-Sein, sondern nur das gestaltliche So-und-so-Sein findet in der aristotelischen Metaphysik seine Auslegung. Das Überhaupt-Sein bleibt s e l b s t v e r s t ä n d l i c h und in allem Frag w ü r d i g e n mitverstanden” (Beiträge 49; plus 64, 70).

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hýle might appear otherwise, in various forms, shapes, guises.181 Yet—the same as the kósmos—it was expressly deemed incapable of inexistence.182 Given his Judeo-Christian context, Augustine—and with him Nominalists sensu lato—are quasi discursively coerced into dismissing or ignoring all of Aristotle’s arguments against a createdness of the world: its Maker, and the respective activity, must not be in doubt as such. By the same reasoning, His productions—including ‘kósmoi’—are susceptible of being altered, multiplied, ‘deleted’, undone.183 The eidos of God’s mutable voluntas being primary, its (perceived) potentia(lity) takes the place of Aristotle’s eternal hýle. Like the latter, the Deity Himself, and per se, is relatively, not absolutely contingent. For He cannot be not at all; that is, as far as the Hipponensian

|| 181 Cf. “the cause of the accidental is the matter, which admits of variation from the usual” (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11; with 336–337, 1032a, VII.vii.2). See subch. 3.5, herein. 182 Cf. subch. 3.2. Any nexus of ‘kósmos’ and consummate contingency is conceivable as a massive paradox only—and typical for Heraclitean écriture: “ὥσπερ σάρμα εἰκῆ κεχυμένων ὁ κάλλιστος […] κόσμος” (qtd. in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 178, 22B124; as per Theophrastus); approx. ‘like a heap haphazardly poured, the most beautiful order’. That quasi tautological nexus of ‘kállistos’, ‘kósmos’ exacerbates the verbal grating with ‘eike’ (additionally entrenched by the abysmal connotations of ‘sárma’, ‘kechyménon’). Such willful antitheticalism will serve heuristico-rhetorical purposes in a philosopher-poet with a penchant for shocking recipients: ‘licet Iovi’ (see Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 165, 22B64). By contrast, the paradoxical collocation “dem Kosmos und seiner Kontingenz” (Rössler et al. 17; despite 13) must seem problematic in a (putatively) academic milieu; especially sans a resp. requisite gloss (the preceding references, conceptualizations being of rather limited scope, to say the least: 13–15). For that misguided “seiner” amounts to declaring ‘the consummate order and its disorder’—simultaneously. The Lucretian (Epicurean) ‘clinamen’ marks a (slight) deviation within a prior regularity (of falling, ‘raining’ atoms): a limited contingency—precisely not of the whole (kósmos). That the aforesaid possessive pronoun is not an accidental fluke, but a structural error, can be taken from a corresponding misconstrual of the ‘swerve’: “Diese minimale Aberration, ohne die nicht etwas, sondern vielmehr Nichts wäre” (Rössler et al. 15). Atomistic theories are materialistic: per se, matter is primary, eternal (as in Aristotle). The sheer ‘nihil’ is a monotheistic (spec. JudeoChristian) notion, requiring (the presupposition of) a Creator-God. Rössler/Sparenberg/Weber might have taken this insight from Blumenberg—had they not slashed the requisite quote, like the other quasi remarks on the concept in question, to an inconclusive, misleading minimum (Rössler et al. 14–15; here: 14, 14n.). Withal, said intro. may well appear as a prime example of what the eds. themselves refer to as an ‘inflationary use’ of the concept at issue (see 15). 183 Concerning the Nominalist version of free variation, Blumenberg notes that—“as per […] Ockham”—the “notion” of a “plurality of worlds” has the following functions: “die Gestalt der Welt als kontingent zu erweisen und sie in der gedanklichen Variation ihres faktischen Bestandes dem Menschen als veränderungsfähig und veränderungswürdig zu demonstrieren” (Legitimität 173; trans. dsm; cf. Zambon “Nachwort [2020]” 223). Being fundamentally antiAristotelian, this also runs counter to orthodox Scholasticism.

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Bishop and early Nominalists are concerned.184 Seeing that Divine will is not in itself material, form is first in Augustine (suiting his erstwhile Platonism). From a human viewpoint, this singular eidos seems altogether contingent— as incompatible with the Idealist discourse as with the Stagirite’s. In a sense, the Church Father carries a potential for being otherwise into the causa formalis—an utter inconceivability for Aristotle and his teacher alike.185 Then again, God qua such is eternal, hence unable to annul Himself—a fact conflicting with the notion of omnipotence.186 The Deity is not absolutely contingent for Augustine, nor for any Christian—although this very notion is figurally (if vicariously) present in the Cross.187 || 184 Unbeknown to the zealous defenders of the Almighty per se (over and against the traditional religion), God is basically superfluous already at this point: “Die Neuzeit begann zwar nicht als Epoche des toten Gottes, aber […] des verborgenen Gottes, des deus absconditus – und ein verborgener Gott ist pragmatisch so gut wie ein toter. Die nominalistische Theologie alarmierte ein Weltverhältnis des Menschen, dessen Implikation in dem Postulat hätte formuliert werden können, der Mensch habe sich so zu verhalten, als ob Gott tot wäre” (Blumenberg Legitimität 404). See Kablitz (“Augustinismus” 66–68, 66n.–68n.; with the qualifications at Neuzeit 17–23, spec. 21); Küpper (“Ordnung” 200, 200n.), who accentuates: “Der in der frühen Neuzeit auf den Plan tretende Gedanke des deus absconditus ist […] letztlich ein Phänomen des Übergangs zum Atheismus” (“Horizont” 231n.). Cf. Waldenfels (373–376). 185 Aquinas only (even plainly) spirits away the problem with his take that “God […] wills some things to happen necessarily, and others to happen contingently” (Wippel 226); “quia Deus voluit eos [sc. ‘effectus’] contingenter evenire, contingentes causas ad eos praeparavit […][;] God has prepared contingent causes for given effects because he wills these effects to be contingent” (Aquinas qtd. in: Wippel 238n.). The scholar comments: “This statement should not be taken as contradicting Thomas’s view that effects are said to be necessary or contingent by reason of the nature of their proximate cause” (238n.). Quite: “should not”. 186 “The divine will […] cannot fail” (Wippel 221). Despite its claim thereto, the ensuing hardly holds sans dissent: “It is agreed in all quarters that there are some things which God cannot do; that, e.g., he cannot sin or run, and the like” (Boh “Omnipotence” 190; cf. 194–195). If the remark is to be salvaged, said “cannot” would have to be replaced with ‘will not’ qua ‘does not wish to’ (while He might, should such seem right—to Him). With Bandinelli, Boh goes on to declare: “God […] could not possibly do what he does not want to do” (“Omnipotence” 191). Again, the form of this statement (“possibly”) is questionable; to ‘save’ it, the “could not” might be rephrased to yield a tautology. As Courtenay observes, “Damian adopted a different approach. God can do more than he actually wills to do; divine capacity exceeds divine volition” (244). Cf. “the Augustinian expression ‘potuit, sed noluit’” (246; with 249, 261n.; and Augustine “De Natura” 251, VII.8). Denial outright is another timeless option: “Since God was the highest wisdom, goodness, truth, and justice, discussions of what God cannot do, such as lie, deceive, be corrupted, or change the past are meaningless by definition” (Courtenay 245). Any declaration of inapplicability shifts the problem back to its originator. 187 In view of the latter, Blumenberg’s assertio will hardly hold: “Selbst ein Gott kann nur gut sein, wenn es gut für ihn ist” (Die nackte Wahrheit 12). Likely yet another instance of what

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Precisely said skándalon and ‘para-dox’ (etymologically) is also relevant in another respect relating to contingency.188 Having altered its area of application against the Aristotelian tendency, the concept turns into a metaphysical and ‘theo-logical’ query with Augustine’s ultimacy of the ‘quia vult’. That unbridled willfulness be the arché of all would surely have horrified the Stagirite’s rationalism to the point of blatant denial.189 He sought out every sensible means whereby to restrict or contain the threat chance poses to reason. A plausible measure is the necessity of the past.190 As Küpper stresses, this will still and also hold good for Ockham: “In a Nominalist view, only the coming is contingent. The bygone is relieved of contingency by having happened” (“Ordnung” 197n.; trans. dsm).191 A (tacit) adherence to the (logical) principle of (non)contradiction—or its variants—will make said statement self-evident.192

|| Kablitz pertinently cautions against in an affine context: “Blumenberg verhält sich […] gegenüber dem Dogma […] selektiv” (Neuzeit 23; spec. with 24; also 27–28, 31–33, 69). 188 Generally, see Nietzsche (e.g. “Jenseits [KSA 5]” 67, III.46; “Genealogie [KSA 5]” 269, I.8; “Antichrist [KSA 6]” 232, §51; KSA 11. 86, 25[292]; KSA 13. 109, 11[282]); and subch. 8.5.1, herein. 189 (See Phys. 5–8. 280–281, 252a, VIII.i; Heavens 124–127, 283a–b, I.xii; cf. subch. 3.2, herein). 190 Sorabji observes: “Aristotle regards the present or past as necessary, because irrevocable” (Necessity 8; with 22, 91–92, 101–103). Cf. subchs. 3.7, 4.1, and 4.2, herein. 191 “Das Vergangene ist abgeschlossen[;] […] noch nicht einmal […] Gott, der ansonsten alles kann, vermöchte an dieser Sachlage etwas zu ändern ([…] Ockham)” (“Kulturwissenschaft” 9). “Selbst der deus omnipotens kann das Vergangene nicht ändern” (“Recusatio der Moderne” 396n.). Cf. Ockham (Predestination 36, Q.i.A; 41, Q.i.F; 67, Q.ii.iv.L); M. M. Adams (5; 22; 25; 28– 29); Normore: “There is more than one problem of future contingents. […] first[,] the problem raised by Aristotle – that of reconciling the principle of bivalence […] with the view that some claims about the future are contingent, […] such that neither the claim nor its denial is necessarily true. […] A second problem has to do with the possibility of foreknowledge. […] A third problem is specifically theological. Can complete knowledge of the future by an immutable, infallible, impassible God be reconciled with the contingency of some aspects of the future? These are distinct problems […]. Yet all three […] are variations on a single theme” (“Future” 358)—not incidentally a trinitarian formulation. Normore further observes: “Some early writers, [e.g.] […] Damian, […] held that God can make the past otherwise than it is, but the majority opinion to the time of Duns Scotus seems to be that, even for God, what has been or is, necessarily has been or is” (“Divine” 6–7; albeit with 20n.). Cf. “Roma, quae antiquitus condita est, potest Deus agere ut condita non fuerit” (Damian qtd. in: Courtenay 262n.). 192 Scholastics seem to have shied away from a logician’s holy calf: the principle of (non)contradiction, its versions or derivatives—an Aristotelianizing residue. Certain thinkers proceed toward passing beyond said self-evidence. Normore records “Duns Scotus’ insistence on a simultaneous power for opposites” (“Future” 376); “if there is to be contingency[,] God must be able to will the contrary of whatever he wills. Scotus insists that this is so and moreover that this is a power of created free agents as well” (“Future” 368). “Aureoli” tenders what was “apparently the first serious medieval attempt to argue that bivalence is not a

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Yet it could be questioned whether the Augustinianizing protesters from within Scholastics were being true to their characteristic (and literal) ‘radicalism’ on this point.193 Hence it is only consequential that some did advance plus ultra—as Normore’s contrastive cases demonstrate: Unlike Aureoli, Ockham is committed to bivalence and, more clearly than most of the major figures in the thirteenth century, to the view that the past is absolutely necessary. […] unlike Scotus, Ockham accepts the doctrine of the necessity of the present. (“Future” 371)194

When reckoning with potential else- and chancefulness has become habitual, no tense or thing is safe therefrom.195

|| fundamental logical principle. […] [he] did ascribe the view to Aristotle; Ockham and Gregory of Rimini among others accepted the ascription. Aureoli’s view was never popular, but it had some influence in the fifteenth century” (“Future” 370; with “Divine” 11–13). See Ockham (“Comment. De int. 9” 105–106, as to 19a39–19b4; and 108: “neither true nor false”; with “Summa log. III–3.32” 110). Cf. subch. 3.7, herein. 193 Especially since Nominalism had drawn the conclusions of its voluntaristic premises with regard to (rational) economy: “Das Ökonomieprinzip, Ockhams Rasiermesser, verhilft nicht zum Nachvollzug einer in der Natur gegebenen Ordnung, sondern zur gewaltsamen Reduktion auf eine vom Menschen unterstellte Ordnung. Gott ist nicht ökonomisch; er tut vieles aufwendig, was sich auch einfach und sparsam bewirken ließe: quia vult, nec est alia causa quaerenda” (Blumenberg Legitimität 170; cf. 181). With Nietzsche’s provocative query: “Würde Gott etwas Überflüssiges gethan haben?” (“Antichrist [KSA 6]” 239, §55). Hardly, seeing as “[s]uperflua non nocent” (Augustine de civ. Dei IV–VII. 100, IV.xxvii). 194 Cf. “it is always the case that one or the other part of a contradiction is […], and nothing is true unless it is one or the other part of a contradiction. Nor is it possible that both parts of a contradiction be true” (Ockham Predestination 63, Q.ii.iii.G; with 73–74, Q.iii.B–C); “it is impossible by means of any capacity whatever that contradictories are true at one and the same time” (“Ordin. 38–39” 87, 38.H; with 93, 39.C). See Normore (“Divine” 11–13; 17); Adams (23). As to the above, cf. the former’s expedient synopsis: “Scotus […] abandon[s][…] the necessity of the present […]. God’s knowledge is a single act which never ‘passes into the past’ and so is as contingent as any present act. […] Although Scotus claims a simultaneous capacity for opposites and with it the contingency of the present[,] he clings tenaciously to the necessity of the past[;] but it is his own concept of possibility as semantic consistency which grounds fourteenth-century attempts to show the past contingent” (Normore “Future” 368–369; with “Divine” 7–8). “Bradwardine accepted Scotus’ claim […] and used it to argue that the past was no more necessary absolutely speaking than the future” (“Future” 376). “Gregory […] accepts Bradwardine’s criticism of the view that the past is necessary” (“Future” 376–377; with “Divine” 8; spec. 18). “The Bradwardinian attack on the necessity of the past seems closely connected with a continuing debate […] over the scope of divine power” (“Divine” 7). 195 In Normore’s words: “Once we exempt God’s productions from the necessity of the past it is not easy to stop the slide towards exempting the acts of creatures and thus undermining

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Ne obliviscatur—Aristotle’s quotation of Agathon: “This only is denied even to God, / The power to make what has been done undone” (NE 331, 1139b, VI.ii.6).196 In view of this arch-text, it may seem as though Divine omnipotence were being curbed in the name of logic—which would be precisely antiNominalist.197 Normore records an affine observation by Peter of Ailly: If God could once prevent the world ever having been[,] but can no longer, it must be either because the divine power has changed[,] or because something outside of God constrains his will[—]both of which are absurd. (“Future” 377)

Incidentally and withal, the law of (non)contradiction cannot hold good for its Creator.198 Nor any of its variants: “Could God make one and the same thing to

|| even a ‘relative’ distinction of past and future” (“Divine” 17). Cf. “Gilbert of Poitiers […] William of Auvergne […] Thomas Buckingham […] denied the putative necessity of the past. […] whatever God wills, has willed, or shall will, He wills it in such a way that it is still (eternally) possible that He never have willed it” (M. M. Adams 28). Normore stresses: “God’s deliberative activity is often thought to be one act which cannot be dated; if this is so, the past is as open to his causal activity as the future” (“Divine” 6); “since God can do anything which can be done, […] God has the power to make it the case that Adam never existed. This argument gains additional plausibility from the usual story about God’s relationship to time. This story strongly suggests that everything is to God much as the present is to us” (“Divine” 7). Not only the vectoriality, teleology, but the very extancy (or necessity) of Salvation History is subject to contingency. For Petrarca’s poetic ‘meddling’ therewith, see Kablitz (“Petrarkismus” 109–110, 110n.; with “Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 570; 575; 607–608); spec. “Konsequent bleibt allein das Kontingente zurück” (“Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 585). 196 See Ockham’s citation thereof (Predestination 36, Q.i.A). He logs: “it is generally conceded by philosophers and theologians that God cannot make what is past not to be past without its afterwards being true to say that it was past” (“Ordin. 38–39” 85, 38.E). Cf. subch. 4.1. Not only in said respect, the arch-Nominalist will seem ‘conservative’ outright: “Ist der ockhamistischen Ontologie nicht die devotio moderna ungleich näher als die Experimentierfreudigkeit einer sich formierenden Wissenschaft von der Natur?” (Kablitz Neuzeit 21). 197 Cf. Boh (“Omnipotence” 198); Courtenay (249); and Korolec: “The only limits of this omnipotence are laws of logic such as the principle of non-contradiction” (640). Likewise, Grant stresses that “the most significant outcome” of Tempier’s condemnation “was an emphasis on […] God’s absolute power (potentia Dei absoluta) to do whatever He pleases short of bringing about a logical contradiction” (537; cf. 538). In a more radical defense of the former, said limitation cannot but fall. “As a consequence of the Condemnation of 1277, God’s absolute power became a convenient vehicle for the introduction of subtle, imaginative questions which generated novel replies” (539). Hence it would only seem plausible for “Gregory” to be “appealing to God’s absolute power to change the past” (Normore “Future” 378). 198 Enthymematically put (combining two quasi syllogisms): the Creator cannot be subject to what he created. God created all. All includes the principle of (non)contradiction. God will not be subject to it. Cf. “potentia absoluta” might be “defined as total possibility, unchecked even

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be man and donkey? Yes, he could” (Boh “Omnipotence” 202).199 To say nothing of a quasi homophonous animal. En archei or principle, the traditional Ecclesia’s central dogma—that thorny (hence wholly Pauline) matter of Original Sin, with Christ’s redemptive sacrifice recalling or compensating for (not to say ‘sublating’) Adam’s, hence Mankind’s Fall—is grounded in the Almighty’s capacity for quasi ‘unmaking’ even the past, His own (putative) choices.200 Conceived of as feckful and factual, said salvific feat would render the bygone contingent—at least potentially, if not indeed.201

|| by the principle of non-contradiction” (Courtenay 263). Generally, see Adams (28); Courtenay (266n.–268n.); Korolec (630); spec. “Duns Scotus emphasised that God was independent of the laws of nature and could suspend […] laws […] he had himself established” (639). Blumenberg records “die radikalen Überlegungen […] Ockhams […], daß das Wirken der Gottheit nur am Prinzip des Widerspruchs seine Grenzen habe. […] Der Gott, der nur dem logischen Prinzip des Widerspruchs unterworfen ist, ist zugleich der Gott, der sich selbst zu widersprechen vermag” (Legitimität 180; with Ockham Predestination 36, Q.i.A; 36n.; 57, Q.ii.ii.D; 63, Q.ii.iii.G; Kablitz “Verwandlung” 329n.; Courtenay 267n.–268n.). This is connected to “the radical contingency” of “the world” (Blumenberg Legitimität 181; trans. dsm)—though not of the Deity itself (see Küpper “Ordnung” 173n.–174n.). In other words: Ockhamism may well seem to not have been ‘radical’ enough in defending its God. For the Deity must be above and beyond logic. Even as per a foremost Scholastic, Anselm of Canterbury—whose speculations Blumenberg sees as providing a (decisive) condition of possibility for later developments: “In dem bekannten ontologischen Gottesbeweis seines Proslogion (c. 2–3) geht Anselm von dem Begriff Gottes als des ‘aliquid quo maius cogitari nequit’, also des ‘ens perfectissimum’, aus. Im 15. Kapitel desselben Proslogion ist aber der Theologe Anselm von dieser Definition nicht mehr befriedigt: ‘Ergo, Domine, non solum es quo maius cogitari nequit, sed es quiddam maius quam cogitari possit’ […]. In diesem ‘Sprung’ vom Limes des Denkmöglichen in das Dunkel des Denkjenseitigen ist das Dilemma der ferneren Geschichte der Gottesidee inauguriert. Nun sind der extremen Forcierung des Moments der Souveränität im Gottesbild keine Grenzen mehr gesetzt” (“Kant” 556; see spec. Legitimität 564; with 111, 565; “Transzendenz” 992–993; Sorge 103; Matthäuspassion 101; GKW I. 107; Verführbarkeit 128; Beschreibung 235; 379–380, 379n.; 826; Phänomen. 144). Cf. Courtenay (244–245); Zambon (Nachleuchten 74–76). 199 The scholar is ventriloquizing Pictavian; see the context (Boh “Omnipotence” 200–202). 200 As to Saul of Tarsus, cf. Acts 9:5, 26:14. 201 Not only with respect to the legendary descensus ad inferos—but a corollary of his crucial, salvation historical feat. For Medieval, Early Modern applications, see Küpper (Discursive 126n.; 130; 137–138; 152; 156; spec. 158–160, 158n.; 182). Theologically, the above insinuation would probably not be acceptable in the Pauline and Augustinian orthodoxy, where “God’s selfsacrifice does not undo the Fall [of Man] or suspend its consequences; for the (material) world remains as it is (civitas diaboli); only the ETERNAL consequences of the Fall are suspended for some (Augustine) or for many (Aquinas); but by no means for all (this would be Origenes)” (Küpper; comment on the ms. of the present study; Dec 22, 2019; trans. dsm; italics added). In the present line of argument, the accent falls on the Christ of Lk 17:21 (“ἰδοὺ γὰρ ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ

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Probably the only (albeit actually ungraspable) ‘solution’ is Augustine’s— presuming the Deity’s being above or beyond temporality; untimely, perchance, from a humane perspective.202 Such would absolve Him from anything related thereto, or perceived within the same; while also leaving the curious animal with nothing but a consummate ‘nescio’ (‘I do not know’) as to the unresolvable queries concerning God’s mode, motive, rationale.203 Hence “monotheism signifies to be stylizing contingency into a Divine figure” (Küpper “Episteme” 118; trans. dsm)—thus the state of affairs holding good for (Early) Nominalism. || θεοῦ ἐντὸς ὑμῶν ἐστιν”, SBLGNT) with Mk 10:14–15 (see also Mt 19:14, Lk 18:16)—who seems irreconcilable with the religion preached by that Pharisee from Tarsus. 202 Cf. Sorabji (“deterministic” 6–7); Normore (“Divine” 4; 6; 20n.; “Future” 359; 366–367; 374); Wippel (214–215; 217–218; 220–221); as well as Kretzmann’s/Adams’ glosses (in: Ockham Predestination 46n., at 46, A.3.M; 50n., at 50, A.6.P); Küpper (“Trad. Cosmos” 372n.), who speaks of “der Freiheit Gottes von der Zeitlichkeit” (“Ordnung” 218). See the n. on Boethius and Aquinas below; plus Zagzebski (38–43; 63–65; 96–97), cum grano salis. Mignucci stresses: “the gods’ knowledge of contingent events cannot be considered a case of foreknowledge because their knowledge takes place outside time” (83n.–84n.; with Gaskin The Sea Battle 171–173). Concerning the human incapacity to actually grasp supratemporality (being conceivable ex negativo only), Blumenberg accentuates: “Die Zeitlichkeit wird zum entscheidenden Handicap des menschlichen Geistes” (Legitimität 181). 203 Blumenberg logs: “Solche absolute Freiheit, mit Allmacht gepaart, beraubt den Menschen jeder Möglichkeit, über seine Stellung zur Gottheit wie über das Wesen der von ihr geschaffenen Welt irgend eine Gewißheit zu gewinnen” (“Kant” 555). Cf. Ockham, in particular (Predestination 50, A.6.P; “Ordin. 38–39” 89–90, 38.L–M; the query is expressly delegated to “theology” at “Comment. De int. 9” 106, as to 19a39–19b4). See Normore (“Divine” 13–15; spec. 14). Adams seems to be overstressing the ‘coerciveness’: “Ockham is forced to plead ignorance of divine psychology” (20). More reasonably, Leppin: “Ockham [‘bekennt’] sich […] zu einem [‘Glauben’], der nicht vernünftig aufschlüsselbar ist” (85, 85n.). See Küpper (“Ordnung” 174n.: “nicht logifizierbar”; 176, 176n., citing Ockham: “Sed modum exprimere nescio”; cf. Schweigen 19; entfesselte Signifikanz 15n.–16n.); as to “den strikt nominalistischen Gott, dessen Wollen im Hinblick aufs Künftige prinzipiell uneinsehbar ist. Unter den Augen des Willkürgottes ist es dem Menschen nicht anders möglich als zu handeln, wie ihn gutdünkt” (“Recusatio der Moderne” 396; cf. 416–417, 416n.–417n.). Observing that “Aquinas always maintained that God knows […] future contingents” (213; see 221), Wippel stresses: “Because God’s vision is not in time but outside time, any such event is not future to God but present. Because we are measured by time, any such event is future for us” (215; with 231n.; spec. 220–221). “Thomas seems to have reduced the problem of divine knowledge of free future contingents to the problem of God’s knowledge of free present contingents” (221); “for God there is no past” (233n.). “Thomas explicitly acknowledges his debt to Boethius” (232n.). See the latter (“Phil. Consolat.” 426–435, V.vi.59–176.prose; spec. 426, V.vi.62–66.prose; 428, V.vi.94–100.prose, 432, V.vi.166–176.prose). Cf. Fuhrmann (Spätantike 155). Withal, it cannot be spirited away that God has created temporality; hence is responsible for the human perception and experience of time—incl. all the abysmal implications thereof. Cf. and contrast Zagzebski (64).

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After said superstructure had been stripped away—virtually in Celestina, effectually in Machiavelli, by implication in Montaigne, Shakespeare—whatever remained was sheer chancefulness.204 Mayhap, a metaphora continuata will be permissible for emphasis. All attempts at ‘taming’ that ‘feral’ phenomenon yield only further ‘wildness’ on the part of this conceptual ‘beast’: contingency seems to be beyond ‘capture’—an unreservedly open state of play.205 Western thought appears to have been unable to liberate itself from týche’s absolutism, after the renewed, literally epoch-making reception of Augustine’s thought: theologically by Medieval Ockhamists (initially to counter Scholastic Aristotelianizing), later by Luther withal (never free from assertoric gainsaying); expressly, while more or less ‘secularly’, in Petrarca; significantly (if tacitly) in Celestina, Machiavelli, Montaigne, Shakespeare—by indirect routes not rarely.206 Since human reason seemed inept at ridding itself of the specter invoked— thus Blumenberg’s narrative or “depiction of the epoch” (Küpper “Ordnung” 173n.; trans. dsm)—(Early) Modern men were forced, hence learned, to handle it: by resignation; or a profoundly altered, quasi unrestrained pragmatism.207

|| 204 Tentatively, these authors and works are taken to be representative. For Celestina, see ch. 6; on Machiavelli and Shakespeare, ch. 7; as well as subchs. 8.1, 8.5.1, 8.6, 13.3.1, herein. 205 This wide metaphorical field is tapped by Küpper (“Ordnung” 217), as well as Kablitz (“Selbstinszenierung” 551n.), with regard to contingency; their suggestion is taken up throughout the present study. Cf. Sommer as to “Weg[e], den Zufall zu domestizieren” (“Zufall” 99). Bubner has “Zähmung der Kontingenz” (Geschichtsprozesse 150; with “domestiziert”, 164); “Ethos depotenziert Kontingenz” (Geschichtsprozesse 179; plus “Kontingenzeindämmung”, 293, 298). Vogt refers to “Zähmung und Domestizierung der Fortuna” (35; with variants at 29, 106, 128, 131, 186n., 346, 508, 536, 579–590, 597, 652, 655). 206 Küpper stresses “the revivification of the Augustinian irrationalism in Reformation theology” (“Ordnung” 221; trans. dsm; with Schweigen 17). 207 Cf. “Heilsungewißheit und Erkenntnisungewißheit [‘sind’] zwei Aspekte gleicher Stufe der einen geistigen Situation, die durch den nominalistischen Gottesbegriff entstanden war. Descartes’ hypothetischer Dieu trompeur und Luthers mutabilissimus Deus sind historisch identisch; Absolutismus der Gnade und Selbstbehauptung der Rationalität sind […] Antworten auf zwei Konsequenzen dieses Gottesbildes, von denen die eine die diesseitige, die andere die jenseitige Existenz des Menschen in Frage stellte” (“Kausalität” 202; with “Kant” 555–556; Zambon Nachleuchten 78–80, spec. 78). On the above, see Blumenberg’s memorable formula: “in die Energie des Plus ultra umzusetzen” (Legitimität 272); and the n. below. Küpper reads the philosopher’s overall œuvre as tending toward the assumption that the viable kind of conduct in the face of contingency’s absolutism may well be a magnanimous forbearance (précised from “Ordnung” 223n.; noting the ‘art’ involved in the ensuing). Cf. “Philosophie erweist sich als Kunst der Resignation” (Blumenberg Höhlen. 791); “‘Kunst der Resignation’”, “‘Kunst als Resignation’” (Gerade 35; Vor allem 42). See subchs. 11.1.1, 11.3.3, herein.

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Predictably, the common choice was to capitalize on actual capacities— sans limitations, especially not theological ones; proceeding plus ultra in all matters, at fairly any cost.208 After this leeway (initially introduced in defense of God’s good name) had been fully ‘realized’, the return to a state of affairs where chance is seen as but a byproduct, side effect—and contingency under control, more or less—no longer appears to have seemed functional or plausible.209 As Küpper highlights, this is also reflected, discursively sedimented, in the time’s (literary) products: “Renaissance texts not only say that the world is contingent[;] they become figurations of what a contingent world signifies”—a “mise en scène of contingency” (“Ordnung” 176 with 206; trans. dsm).210 In conformance with Augustinian, Nominalist accents, this mainly means to be representing (moral, communal) effects of human free will. Hence practical philosophy takes center stage, replacing Scholasticism’s overarching concern with metaphysics, theology.211 Naturally, Aristotle’s works on the ‘softer’ skills— ethics, politics, rhetoric, poetics—come to the forefront, once more.212 || 208 Contrast Job 38:11. Cf. “Bacon hat dem antiken Nec ultra sein triumphierendes Plus ultra entgegengesetzt” (Blumenberg Lebenszeit 153; with 154; Lebensthemen 70; Legitimität 272). See the latter (Advancement 79, II; also 61, 61n., 79n.); and Gracián, above all: “Desta suerte el Emperador Carlos Quinto, a las grandes vitorias de sus armas en el otro mundo, acomodó por desconveniencia el Non plus ʋltra de Hércules, y dixo: Plus ʋltra” (Arte de ingenio 317, XXXIII; cf. 317n.–318n.; with 406, XLVII; and the variants in: Agudeza II. 401, XXXIV; 589, LVII). See Gumbrecht (272); plus subchs. 6.6.1.1, 9.1, 9.2, 10.4, 11.1.2, 11.1.3, herein. 209 One could object that “God is not bound, save in the sense that he has bound himself” (Courtenay 247). While this (graciously introduced) qualification might be taken on faith, those four words before remain the bottom line. “In his desire to emphasize the unbound nature of God and the contingency of […] nature and grace, Scotus used the distinction of absolute and ordained power more than any previous scholastic. […] [he] invariably equated potentia ordinata with the present order of things, pro statu isto, which God is obliged to follow only insofar as he chooses. God could have acted and still could act otherwise (potest aliter agere)” (253; see 256). Kablitz: “Nur durch Gottes kontingenten Eingriff, alias Gnade, kann der Mensch in seinen prälapsalen Zustand zurückversetzt werden” (“Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 599). 210 Vogt speaks of a “[f]ortunadominierte Zeitanschauung” (33; cf. 34, 452–453; 459; 461; 464; 469; 471–480; 482; 503–505; 507; 541; 577; 590; 601; 654; Joas 15). See ch. 6 (spec. 6.5), herein. 211 Cf. Bubner’s (“Zufall” 6), Haug’s (“Spiel” 151–152), and Küpper’s (“Ordnung” 205; 214) comparable—because ultimately Aristotelian—accent on contingency qua (noetic) prerequisite for enabling human freedom in application. See also Cosentino: “Kontingenz ermöglicht die Verwirklichung einer Handlung und liefert die Bedingungen, um innerhalb des Rahmens praktischer Rationalität agieren zu können” (63). Cf. subch. 4.5, herein. 212 As to the “‘laxeren Wissenschaften’”, see von Fritz (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 662; 671; 673; “Das ἄπειρον” 677; with “Met. 10–14” 84–85, 1064a, XI.vii.2). Aristotle himself points to the affinities of the scholarly and thematic cluster in question: “Rhetoric is[,] as it were[,] an offshoot of Dialectic and of […] Ethics, which may be reasonably called Politics” (Rhet. 19, 1356b, I.ii.7; cf.

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For the Stagirite, as for Machiavelli, the ‘effectual truth’—outside the sterile realm of logic—will be that a strict causation does not obtain in human affairs. This is the condition of possibility for their—ever provisional—description, arrangement (moral philosophy); for tentative rules of navigating, manipulating them (rhetoric, poetry, statecraft).213 Otherwise one might formulate ‘modes or regulations’ as would define—and always lead to—certain success, if followed.214 In the reception (or ‘renaissance’) of Aristotle’s politico-ethical, oratoricopoetic treatises, such considerations are central; especially to the Florentine consigliere’s project—hence of significance for a profoundly affine œuvre also: Montaigne […] does not shirk pragmatic question[s], but makes [them] the theme [precisely]. This factor enlists the Essais among Machiavelli’s followers. Invoking the Principe also amounts to saying what conceals itself behind the blithe serenity of the Essais. (Küpper “Ordnung” 210; trans. dsm)215

|| 18n.; 40–41, 1359b, I.iv.5; Freese “Intro.” xxxvi). One might nuance this to the effect that—as far as the ‘humanistic’ skills are concerned—the effectual master art is rhetoric (incl. poetics): man being a speaking being, and therefore more ‘state-crafty’ than other animals (with moral philosophy pertaining to politics, NE 4–7, 1094b, I.ii.4–8). Cf. Halliwell’s gloss: “Politikē, Ar[istotle]’s general term for the ethics of both public and private life” (“Poetics” 127n.). While a reference to ‘soft skills’ usually marks an—at least implied—value judgment also, it is particularly suitable with regard to rhetoric qua art of ‘per-suasio’ (see Eden, qtd. in: Mayfield “Proceedings” 210). Cf. also subchs. 5.2.2, 7.2.2, and 13.3.2, herein. 213 The notorious phrasing “verità effettuale” is Machiavelli’s; and tendered in an antiIdealistic setting (Principe 102, XV.3). See V. Kahn (“Example” 211); Mansfield (Virtue 19; 179); Strauss (Thoughts 232–233); also Stackelberg (39); Mayfield (Artful 92n.; 106; 122; 128; 147n.; spec. 162, 162n.; 165n.; 179; 182n.; 355). Contrast Pitkin (80; 293). 214 On Machiavelli’s superb insinuation to have graced humankind with “modi et ordini nuovi” (“Discorsi” 56, I; cf. Discourses 5, I.Preface), see Mansfield (Virtue 48; Modes passim, spec. 9, 85–87, 112–113); Strauss (Thoughts 62; 91; 115; 119; 132; 169; 239; 244); with Mayfield (Artful 79n.; 162n.–163n.; 182; especially 185–186, 185n.). 215 Cf. “Machiavellis Versuch, Maximen des Handelns für eine als kontingent reflektierte Welt zu formulieren, mündet in einer impasse. […] Die logische […] Lektion, die aus dem Principe resultiert, steht konzeptuell am Ursprung der Essais, und sie ist eigentliches Thema jedes einzelnen Essai. […] auf diese Weise [‘reiht sich der Text’] in die Tradition der praktischen Philosophie ein” (“Ordnung” 211; plus “Recusatio der Moderne” 407n.). “Es ist der eigentliche Effekt der Essais, die […] Frage nach dem Handeln zum Gegenstand zu machen und gleichzeitig zu sagen, daß es darauf keine andere Antwort gibt, als sie zum Gegenstand zu machen. Dies wiederum erzwingt die Ästhetisierung des Diskurses” (“Ordnung” 212). See also Kablitz (“Nachahmung” 123n.). In said respect, Haug’s assessment remains at the surface: “So zeigt auch eine Analyse der Montaigneschen Essais, daß der empfehlenswerteste Umgang mit dem Kontingenten in einer Spielhaltung besteht” (“‘Lösung’” 290).

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In a sheerly contingent world, there can be no definitive measures—to say naught of answers. The Deity having taken His leave (or been shown out), all comes down to human will alone. A respective other’s (again) takes the place occupied by the equally incalculable and mutable Divine voluntas—which had previously displaced the orderly, rational principle of Aristotle’s systematics.216 When facing contingency ambulant—humans, their actions—all causalities are effectually casual, indeterminate.217 The corresponding attempts at (moral philosophically) ordering—or (poetico-oratorically, politically) manipulating— them must remain makeshift. Inductive, contextually suitable improvisation is the remaining “regula generale” (Machiavelli Principe 24, III.50). Once more, rhetoric becomes the Humanistic and liberal master art it always has been.218

|| 216 Cf. Blumenberg as to “Luthers mutabilissimus Deus” (“Kausalität” 202; with “Kant” 555– 556; “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 104). The scholar adds (at “Kontingenz” 1794) that it was the same theologian, who (initially) articulated the ensuing: “Si enim ego fio necessario, parum me movet, quod est meum vel fieri sit mutabile, nihilominus ego ille contingens et mutabilis, qui non sum Deus necessarius, fio” (Luther “De servo arb.” 254, WA617, StA 192). See Blumenberg: “Die Notwendigkeit Gottes und die Zufälligkeit der Welt” (Beiträge 135; with 143–144, 143n.). 217 (Cf. Rhet. 24–25, 1357a, I.ii.14). “[M]atters of conduct admit of variation [‘ἐνδέχεται τὸ πρακτὸν ἄλλως ἔχειν’]” (NE 336–337, 1140b, VI.v.3; with 76–77, 1104a, II.ii.3). Rohde: “Es ist […] unendlich vieles möglich, wenn Alter auf Ego trifft” (35). Drawing on Aristotle, see Küpper’s distinctions: “contingency in the human world of action [‘Handlungswelt’] has a different status than [contingency] in the natural (physical) world—the latter functions according to fixed laws. If different physical laws (for instance: gravity on the one hand[,] inertia on the other) HAPPEN TO interfere [with each other], [something] ‘contingent’ emerges in the natural world (something that is, but that need not be—such as the earth in its present physical condition). […] the humanly relevant [variant of] contingency is grounded in the interference of two causal chains, either of which may[,] in turn[,] be partly or altogether contingent (No one must bury a treasure; no one must plant a tree. No one needs to be in a specific place at a specific time, when the law of gravity causes a stone to fall from the roof). To this extent[,] the contingency of the human world of action is EXCEPTIONALLY more frequent than [contingency] in the natural world. It is quasi omnipresent[:] the incalculable is the essence of the contextual conditions of human (social) action, while[,] in the natural world[,] it tends to be the ‘exception’ to the ‘rule’” (n. to the ms. of the present study; July 2 and 7, 2020; trans. dsm). For the Aristotelian references, taxonomies, see ch. 3 (spec. 3.1, 3.4, 3.5). On humans as personified contingencies, cf. Mayfield (Artful 114n.; 120; 174); the onset of ch. 4; plus 6.5, 8.5.2, spec. 13.5. 218 As to the septem artes liberales; the handling of human matters (politics, ethics, poetics, metaphysics). For Aristotle, “Politics” had been the “master-craft” (NE 5, 1094a, I.ii.5, with 4–7, 1094a–b, I.ii.4–8; 428–429, 1152b, VII.xi.1). Perchance, it is justifiably the end. Its conditio sine qua non is rhetoric sensu lato. The emerging (mathematically, experimentally validated) ‘hard sciences’—mechanics, physics, astronomy, chemistry, biology, etc.—try to advance along their own lines, “with the aim of permanently making the physical world ‘otherwise’ (better)” in fact (“a completely non-Ancient notion”); they attempt to impose a rational(istic) order on things,

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Proceeding from an ultimately Nominalist worldview (if tacitly), the Celestina, Machiavelli, Montaigne, Shakespeare deem contingency the rule in all matters.219 Effects being factual, any roots or reasons potentially perceived by humans are seen as being of temporal, sectoral, partial relevance only.220 To approach probable grounds, approximate possible motivations, it will be needful to start from particular data; to contextualize these reliably: considering them in relation to settings, times, places, persons, purposes, et caetera.221 This marks the basic premise of moral philosophy, statecraft, and rhetoric alike: causalities are contingent—virtually, in fact (see Mayfield Artful 336n.).

4.5 Diachronic Conceptualizations of Contingency A Tentative Précis diese Welt von Chamäleonism mit Freiheit[.] —Lichtenberg (“Physiognomik” 258)222

Proceeding inductively, the theoretical chapters on else- and chancefulness have tendered a commentary on various Aristotelian concepts (3 to 4.3)—being the diachronically dependable foundation for all further work in said respect (if ex negativo). This has been supplemented by a discourse historical segment (4.4), sketching the changes effected by the addition of other assumptions. In closing this part, précising conventional accounts of contingency might seem meet, along with philological considerations of pertinence.223 Taxonomicoconceptual reiterations are inevitable; and may appear expedient. Following the aforesaid mode, it will be apt to commence with a pertinent summa by one of Aristotle’s foremost students (diachronically speaking).

|| to “utterly alter the course […] also of human matters” beyond what a “mere extrapolation from the past may yield” (Küpper; n. to the ms. of the present study; Dec 22, 2019; trans. dsm). 219 For a cursory—and partly problematic—overview of Early Modern conceptualizations of ‘Fortuna’ (incl. references to Machiavelli, Montaigne, Shakespeare), cf. Vogt (here 578–631). 220 On Early Modern (resp. Renaissance) sectorality, see Küpper (Discursive 12; 22; 254n.; 263; spec. 274–275). Provisionally and heuristically, one may suggest that contingency is especially prominent in the ‘later’ Shakespeare of Ham, Oth, Lear (to name only the most obvious). Its intradramatic handling, poetic manipulation, will be egregiously visible in MM. 221 On epagogé in a contingent world, cf. spec. ch. 5 overall; as well as the onset of 4, herein. 222 “this world of chameleonism with freedom” (trans. dsm). 223 It offers 33 articles—30 of which deal with various aspects, diachronic applications of the concept at issue; plus two commemorative essays (Marquard for Blumenberg, “Entlastung [1998]” passim; Stierle for Jauß, “Nachruf” passim); and a coda by Jauß (“Epilog” passim).

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The three kinds of contingent things are these: some, the ones that happen by chance or fortune, happen infrequently; others are indeterminate to either of two alternatives because they are not inclined more to one part than to another, and these proceed from choice; still others occur for the most part, for example, men becoming gray in old age, which is caused by nature. If […] everything took place of necessity, there would be none of these kinds of contingent things. (Aquinas 105, XIII.9, at 18a39–b5)224

‘Infrequency’, ‘indeterminateness’, a sort of ‘evitability’, possibility—qualifiable by a degree of likelihood—tend to have a bearing on accounts of otherwiseness. In terms of conceptual history, Bubner heuristically observes that “the old formula ‘howsoever it happen’ (ὁπότερ[’] ἔτυχεν) had been Latinized by Boethius and Thomas [Aquinas] as contingere, while the German word ‘Zufall’ points back to accidens” (Geschichtsprozesse 35; trans. dsm).225 Phenomena related to chance sensu lato are of transtemporal brisance— having dominated human minds at all times. With the theological (Augustinian) additives, the query of contingency seems to have taken on a special virulence, as continues to be confronted and processed in various disciplines to this day.226

|| 224 He adds: “there is no difference between that which is for the most part and that which is infrequent except that the former fails for the most part” (106, XIII.9, as to 18b5; with 246–248, III.i.74.1–7). Cf. Wippel (219), who logs that a negative take may also serve on occasion: “By the contingent Thomas […] means that which can be impeded before it is actually brought into being” (214; with Aquinas 242, III.i.72.2; 244, III.i.72.8; 247, III.i.74.4). See Ammonius: “The contingent is divided into three: one is called ‘for the most part’ (hôs epi to polu), […] [e.g.] that a man is born with five fingers […] (for things behaving otherwise are rare); another is ‘for the lesser part’ (hôs ep’ elatton), […] [e.g.] that one digging comes upon a hoard; […] the last is ‘equally ‹often›’ (ep’ isês), […] [e.g.] to walk or not to walk. Concerning the contingent ‹which occurs› ‘for the most part’, there are two causes, nature and art. […] monsters are rare […][;] the arts sometimes fail because of the flux of […] matter, although they promise to succeed for the most part (no one would use them if they did not promise this […]). Concerning the contingent ‹which occurs› ‘for the lesser part’, there are […] two ‹causes›, chance (tukhê) and spontaneity (to automaton)” (104–105, §142.2–11, §142.13–15). Cf. Boethius: “contingens autem secundum Aristotelicam sententiam est, quodcumque aut casum fert aut ex libero cuiuslibet arbitrio et propria voluntate venit aut facilitate naturae in utramque partem redire possibile est, ut fiat scilicet et non fiat” (qtd. in: Kretzmann “Nos Ipsi” 45n.; with “On Interpret. 9” 148, §190.1–6). 225 Bubner’s “‘wie es sich gerade so ergibt’” might also be rendered “‘the way it just so happens to occur’” (Geschichtsprozesse 35; trans. dsm; see 49n.). 226 Küpper remarks: “Having commenced in Early Modernity under the auspices of the unreliability of all supposed orders[,] the systematic exploration and investigation of the physical world apparently leads up to a point in the twentieth cent[ury][,] at which a posttheolog[ically] radical consciousness of contingency evolves: this[—]our[—]world could also be altogether otherwise than it is[;] and how it will be in the future is fundamentally open” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm).

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Published at the turn of the millennium, by far the most significant work of reference thereto will be the seventeenth proceedings on the part of the supradisciplinary research group Poetics and Hermeneutics. Edited by von Graevenitz and Marquard, it is entitled Kontingenz. Thirteen years later, a synoptic “compendium” on said “theme” (Joas 16; trans. dsm) was offered by Vogt.227 The ensuing Latin tricolon distills three traditional aspects of the matter: “‘Contingens est, quod nec est impossibile, nec necessarium […] quod potest non esse […] quod potest aliud esse’” (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XI)— ‘neither impossible nor necessary, capable of being not at all, or otherwise’.228 Wetz offers an etymologico-semantic copia, evincing the term’s polysemy: ‘contingit’ already signifies several [things] in Latin[—][…] it is convenient [or meet], it takes place [or happens], it comes to pass, it transpires, the case occurs, [an] opportunity is presented; […] it succeeds, it turns out well; […] it follows, it results, […] something is bestowed on me, falls to me, comes across or befalls me. The Greek formulation συμβαίνει […] signifies the same, […] is […] given as ‘contingit’ in Latin. (“Begriffe” 27; trans. dsm)

Else, “συμβεβηκός” is what “has gone along” (Bubner “Zufall” 12; trans. dsm).229 Regarding the associations having accrued diachronically, the term’s polyvalent variants may well prove useful in heuristic respects. As per this phenomenological inventory, “contingency or the accidental” might mean—else has been employed as signifying—the following (inter alia): || 227 (Passim; an annotated table of contents at 21–40 being aidful in synoptic respects). With requisite discretion, cf. Gaonkar’s (highly) problematic article, apparently construing “rhetoric […] as an imperfect mode for managing contingency” (“Contingency [2001]” 157; even “tenuous and fragile”, 158). His entry teems with value judgments (“Contingency [2001]” passim; spec. “unproblematic”, “amorality”, “delegitimizes”, “rootless”, 151; “content to dismiss”, “safely located”, 152; “in the most obvious sense”, 154; “denigrated”, 155; “held hostage by time”, 158; etc.). Assertions like the ensuing are sans fundamentum in re, while hinting an innocence as to much prior research: “The connection between rhetoric and contingency is rarely thematized as a theoretical issue” (“Contingency [2001]” 153); “the contingency thesis […] functions as an implicit background assumption rather than as an explicit theoretical issue” (“Contingency [2001]” 155; again at 157; the critic seems to apply his last section backwards; cf. 161). His 2001 entry was reprinted in 2006—apparently sans significant revisions (needful in the Ancient segments); except some cutting (also at “Contingency [2006]” 13), spec. of the penultimate (early twentieth-century) section; plus a shortening, with changes, of the ‘postmodern’ ending (“Contingency [2006]” passim; on the latter: 17–20). Briefly thereto, Olmsted (48–49). 228 Cf. Makropoulos’ condensed form (incl. nonbeing by implication): “Kontingent ist, was auch anders möglich ist” (59). Vogt deems the formula “nec impossibile nec necessarium […] die theoretisch überlegene […] Möglichkeit” (65). See also Cosentino (63); Rohde (35; 55; 269; 299). 229 Cf. Sorabji: “etymologically, […] sumbebēkota meant [‘]having come together[’]” (Necessity 4). Kretzmann and Boethius: “‘It can happen’ (contingit esse)” (“On Interpret. 9” 162, §212.2–3).

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[a] capacity for being otherwise or not [at all] […][; also,] the unintentional, involuntary, non-purposive, the arbitrary [qua capricious], […] the unexpected, unfamiliar, uncommon […] unforeseen […] the inscrutable, incalculable, lawless and random, the optional [qua arbitrary] […] the inessential […] deviant, occasional [qua isolated occurrence] […] [the] singular, new, individual […] the ground- and causeless, the indeterminate […] the inaccessible, unalterable, [the something that has] befallen, […] the fate [‘Fügung’], which is decreed [‘verfügt’] by no one, the destiny [‘Schicksal’], which no one has sent [‘geschickt’]. (Wetz “Begriffe” 30; trans. dsm)

With Küpper, one might adduce as contingent also that which—in the last analysis—“is inaccessible to logic” (“Episteme” 120; trans. dsm).230 Likewise, Kablitz refers to the phenomenon’s “unaccountability”, “inexplicability”, “unjustifiab[ility]”, “arbitrariness” (“Zeichen” 184n.; trans. dsm).231 Providing a basic gauge for most of the above estimates, a (notional) nexus with the concept of causality seems pertinent. Bubner observes: “Grounds [sc. causes, reasons] are […] the opposite [of] chance [‘Anti-Zufall’]” (“Zufall” 4; trans. dsm). In the first place, it is “Aristotle”, who “search[es] for a grounding of contingency’s groundlessness”; to do so, he separates “the problem of the ground into a substantial and an accidental aspect” (“Zufall” 11; trans. dsm).232 In line therewith—or as an extension thereof—Bubner calls

|| 230 See the ensuing parallelism, describing “das Kontingenz-Konzept […] ‘Fortuna’”: “ein Unverrechenbares, ein menschlicherseits nicht Verantwortbares, ein Kontingentes” (Schweigen 28; with 32n.; on the whole, X and 48, 52). Sommer has: “Das Ereignis, unvorhergesehen und unverfügbar, ist die Quelle des Prädikats ‘zufällig’” (“Zufall” 98; cf. 101). 231 With his significative context: “An den tugendhaften Ungläubigen, denen die Gnade einer späten Geburt versagt geblieben ist, offenbart sich in Dantes Commedia jene Kontingenz, die seine Systematik von Sünde und Strafe verschweigt. An der Unverrechenbarkeit der ‘Geschichte’ auf eine systematische Anthropologie, an der Unerklärlichkeit des Zeitpunkts der Erlösung, die eine unbegründbare Selektion der Erwählten zur Folge hat, wird die durch alle Ordnungssicherung verdrängte Willkür göttlichen Handelns manifest. Diese Willkür aber kommt eben in einer Sprache der Macht zum Vorschein, die alle Verantwortung dem Menschen anlastet” (Kablitz “Zeichen” 184n.; with 185n.; and see 180n., 182). 232 Cf. “Der rätselhafte Zufall löst sich in der aristotelischen Betrachtung auf in den Vorgang oder das Ereignis, das möglich wurde […], weil eine prozessuale Grundlage existierte, deren Gegebensein für sich zwar jenen Vorgang nicht nezessitiert, aber doch einen Spielraum begleitender Möglichkeiten eröffnet, aus denen eine anstatt einer anderen wirklich wurde. Warum nun diese und nicht jene oder gar überhaupt keine realisiert wurde, ist nicht mehr beantwortbar. An dieser Grenze muß der Begründungsversuch enden” (Bubner “Zufall” 12). Augustinianism, (Christian) voluntarism, posit the Deity’s will as the ultimate(ly groundless) arché: “Die Frage soll in der Frage ihren Grund finden, […] genauer: sie soll keinen Grund finden” (Blumenberg “Marginalien” 133). The scholar logs a nexus of “outrierte[r] Allmacht und voluntaristische[r] Grundlosigkeit” (“Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 104). Cf. subch. 4.4.

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contingency […] that space […], wherein the capacity for also being otherwise [‘das Auchanders-sein-können’] reigns. [A] chance [occurrence, ‘Zufall’, ‘accident’] […] is […] that which […] actually comes into reality within this space, while the factual occurrence from a multiplicity of variants takes place without [a] recognizable ground [sc. sans (apparent) cause, reason]. Contingency means accidentalness [‘Zufälligkeit’], and [a particular] chance [occurrence] is contingency groundlessly fixated. (“Zufall” 6–7; trans. dsm)233

In German, the (virtual) interchangeability of ‘contingency’ with ‘chance’ will mainly be due to Kant, who renders “‘contingens’” as “‘zufällig’” (‘accidental’, Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XIII).234 Ultimately, said nexus—if not the equivalence—goes back to the arch-philosopher par excellence: The capacity for not being[,] or [being] otherwise[,] is often given as the original meaning of contingency. The works of Aristotle contain a first, more precise depiction of this concept. The expressions describing this thematic area are τύχη, ἐνδεχόμενον, δυνατόν, αὐτόματον and συμβεβηκός. (Wetz “Begriffe” 27; trans. dsm)235 In Aristotelian philosophy[,] one […] discerns at least three meanings of contingency and chance [‘Zufall’]: first[,] the capacity of something for not being or [being] different, since there [had] previously [been] the twofold possibility for being and not being; secondly[,] the capacity of something for not being or [being] otherwise, since its not being or [being] otherwise is generally conceivable; finally[,] […] the unforeseen encounter of unconnected causal chains. (“Begriffe” 29; trans. dsm)236

Aristotle’s terms or demarcations continue to offer the basic (if tacit) backdrop for most any (serious) theorizing concerned with the phenomenon at issue. || 233 Heuß has: “Der ‘lebensnaheste’ Fall von Kontingenz ist der Zufall” (15). Cf. and contrast Bubner’s earlier wording: “Die Rede vom Kontingenten verwechselt häufig die Bereichsangabe mit dem Zufall selbst. Kontingent ist streng genommen nicht das, was sich so oder anders verhalten kann, ohne schon eingetreten zu sein, sondern das grundlose Eintreten einer der beliebigen Alternativen” (Geschichtsprozesse 38; with: “Die Gleichsetzung findet schon bei Thomas [Aquinas] statt”, 50n.). Vogt “empfiehlt […] im Sinne einer systematischen Grenzziehung zwischen den Begriffen von Kontingenz und Zufall […] die Beschränkung des Zufallsbegriffs auf […] das nec necessarium einerseits […][;] die Reservierung des Kontingenzbegriffs für ein spezifisch Mögliches, das eben nicht faktisch ist, andererseits” (65). 234 Cf. “Kant [‘setzte’] den Begriff Kontingenz mit dem Ausdruck Zufall gleich” (Wetz “Begriffe” 29)—Germanizing “‘contingens’ mit ‘zufällig’” (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XIII). “Zufall […] [‘stellt’] die Eindeutschung von ‘accidens’ dar” (Bubner “Zufall” 6). Generally, see Vogt (21–22; 60–61). For applications, Sommer (“Zufall” passim; spec. 97, 99, 101, 107, 109). 235 The term ‘symptom’ appears incidentally (cf. e.g. Phys. 1–4. 170–171, 199a, II.viii; “Met. 10–14” 302, 1093b, XIV.vi.11; “Top.” 466, 126b, IV.v; “On Prophecy” 378, 463b, I; Rhet. 100–101, 1367b, I.ix.32). See Ammonius (105, §142.34); Talanga (30). In a Freudian sense, Vogt (680n.). 236 Withal, it is often associated with ‘átakton’, ‘aóriston’, ‘ápeiron’, ‘álogon’, ‘átopon’. A sort of limit concept—supplying a word, where a lack or impasse appears in the rational process.

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Besides taxonomic, definitional aspects, the Stagirite’s respective choices have a valuative, tendential dimension. As per Küpper’s discourse historical observations, “a basic gesture of dealing with the possible [‘dem Möglichen’]”— that happens to be “paradigmatic for the pagan phase of Occidental thought”— will likely be ‘(de)limitation’ (“Ordnung” 213; trans. dsm).237 The latter may well take several forms, such as particularization, or terminological discrimination. In certain contexts (see “Poetics” 134–135, 1461b, §25), Aristotle permits the implausible—‘as the case may be’ (felicitously formulated, especially in etymological respects: “fallweise”, Küpper “Ordnung” 213).238 The contingent tends to be comprehended in some sort of generality, whereby its “irritating status is again suspended” (“Ordnung” 213; trans. dsm). Ultimately, it is seen to be “of lesser relevance”; while the “‘impossible’” is “entirely excluded”: the Aristotelian contingent is the rare product of a relevant (‘final’) interference [between] two different causal chains within a world [that is] well-ordered on the whole[,] and functions according to stable laws[.] (“Ordnung” 213; trans. dsm)239

|| 237 Lübbe refers to “Historie als Medium einer Kontingenzerfahrungskultur” (“Identität” 658). Cf. “Aristoteles – alternativ zur megarischen Leugnung des Zufalls – [‘ließ’] das Zufällige gelten […] als das, was weder unmöglich noch notwendig ist und darum auch nicht oder auch anders sein könnte” (Marquard “Apologie” 118; re “Prior An.” 254–257, 32a, I.xiii). As to valuations, Haug notes: “Das Kontingente ist als der Bereich des Potentiellen an sich sinnindifferent; wenn es sich als Zufälliges aktualisiert, steht es quer zum Sinn. Zugleich ist Kontingenz die Bedingung der Möglichkeit, Sinn zu konstituieren, denn sie bietet den dafür erforderlichen Freiraum” (“‘Lösung’” 285). “Kontingenz ist als Spielraum des Möglichen an sich wertfrei. Wenn das Zufällige aber mit dem Vergänglichen gleichgesetzt wird, kommt es zu einer tendenziell negativen Bewegung im kontingenten Raum. […] Murphy’s Law ist die […] Formulierung dieser Neigung des Zufälligen zum Negativen” (“Spiel” 154–155; cf. 166–167). The latter is usually given as: “If anything can go wrong, it will” (in: Bloch 1; with several corollaries, 1–2, §1–9; and endless variations, passim). The most significative gloss will—rather probably—be ‘O’Toole’s Commentary on Murphy’s Law’: “Murphy was an optimist” (2). The downright paradigmatic outperformance likely being ‘Silverman’s Paradox’: “If Murphy’s law can go wrong, it will” (3). Such as are alive to contingency may well say: ‘yes, it can’. 238 (Cf. “Universalismus” 466; “Mimesis” 32; “Performanz” 11; spec. 16). 239 See Boethius: “Licet igitur definire casum esse inopinatum ex confluentibus causis in his quae ob aliquid geruntur eventum; concurrere vero atque confluere causas facit ordo ille inevitabili conexione procedens, qui de providentiae fonte descendens cuncta suis locis temporibusque disponit” (“Phil. Consolat.” 388, V.i.53–58.prosa). Cf. Sorabji: “accidents are unusual conjunctions of items whose association is not self-explanatory” (Necessity 5). See Marquard: “Zufälle – auch das hat zuerst Aristoteles gesehen – können dadurch entstehen, daß voneinander unabhängige Determinationsketten unvermutet aufeinandertreffen. Einer vergräbt einen Schatz, um ihn zu verstecken; ein anderer gräbt eine Grube, um einen Baum zu pflanzen” (“Apologie” 119; referring to Met. 1–9. 288–289, 1025a, V.xx.1). Cf. subch. 3.1, herein.

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Another means of regulating the phenomenon at issue will be to restrict its field of application: “only the coming is contingent” (“Ordnung” 197n.; trans. dsm). This usually signifies a focus on deliberative (ethico-rhetorical) aspects, factors. Generally speaking, Aristotle handles “the concept of contingency […] (endechomenon)” in connection with his discussions of “the possible (dynaton) and the accidental (kata symbebekos)”; his inquiry into “the ‘futura contingentia’” in “peri hermeneias” concerns “the problem of freedom” by implication (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XI; trans. dsm; see XII–XIII). This accent is humanly vital. Haug formulates the matter as follows: Objectively[,] the realm of the contingent is the playground of chance [‘des Zufalls’][;] subjectively[, it is] the area of free choice. […] Contingency [is] a […] domain of open possibilities […][;] chance […] [is] that which occurs […] in this space. Contingency is thus potentiality, chance the actualization of possibilities[.][…] Contingency [is] the condition [of possibility for] human liberty. Any attempt at eliminating contingency calls the problem of freedom and responsibility onto the scene. Who radically denies contingency ends [up] with total determination. (“Spiel” 151–152; trans. dsm)240

Focusing on the reception of chance, Marquard complementarily accentuates: “the acceptance of the accidental [‘des Zufälligen’] pertains to [human] freedom” (“Apologie” 132; trans. dsm; see 132–135). Hence the notable neo-Skeptic ‘pleads for acknowledging—taking into consideration, respecting, even saving—the accidental’ in his ‘Apology’ thereof.241 || 240 Complementarily: “totale Kontingenz ist totale Sinnlosigkeit” (Haug “‘Lösung’” 285). The former may seem to render the ensuing problematic: “Freiheit setzt […] Kontingenz voraus, und deshalb ist radikalstes Kontingenzbewußtsein radikalstes Freiheitsbewußtsein” (“‘Lösung’” 287). Haug sees two basic “Lösungsmöglichkeiten”—“zwischen absoluter Determination und absolutem Chaos: die Funktionalisierung des Zufalls nach dem Muster des Boethius geht in Richtung Determination, um aber dem Zufall doch einen gewissen Spielraum zu lassen. Die Bejahung des Zufälligen als eines Freiraums zur […] Machtentfaltung geht in Richtung Chaos, aber es verwandelt sich weitgehend zur […] Willkür und scheint damit gebändigt zu sein” (“‘Lösung’” 286; as to Boethius, cf. Küpper “Ordnung” 213n.). Machiavelli will be implied; “einen dritten Weg […] ist […] Montaigne in seinen Essais gegangen” (Haug “‘Lösung’” 286). 241 In diverse wordings: “Zufällige[s] anerkennen”; “Apologie des Zufälligen”; “das Zufällige [‘muß’] gerettet werden”—spec. “für die Philosophie […] für den Menschen”; “Fürsprache für das Zufällige”; etc. (“Apologie” 117; see 132). Marquard’s key thesis (pivot of his neo-Skeptical philosophy): “Menschen sind stets mehr […] Zufälle als […] Wahl” (“Apologie” 118; cf. 127–132; Gewaltenteilung 17; 79–80; 87; Skepsis 63; Endlich. 22); “leben in Legierungen von Wahl und Zufall” (Gewaltenteilung 80); “wir sind nicht absolut, sondern endlich” (“Apologie” 132). “Eine Philosophie, die – skeptisch – diese Untilgbarkeit des Zufälligen geltend macht, ist, insofern, die Apologie des Zufälligen” (“Apologie” 132). Speaking out against “die traditionelle Aversion der Philosophie und der Theologie gegen den Zufall” (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XIII;

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With von Graevenitz, Marquard likewise draws attention to, and further elucidates, the active and artful implications: Where […] man qua […] ‘maker’ of his world […] deals with that which can become otherwise [in a] poetic or technical [manner], by reworking it[,] i.e. making it different [or: altering it], he utilizes the contingent qua material for the ‘facture [sc. the making]’ of an artificial world of artifacts. (“Vorwort” XI–XII; trans. dsm)242

By implication, the virtual realm and products of the rhetorical téchne pertain to the latter. Man’s potential liberty may also be effected—or ‘actualized’—indeed: All known attempts at imposing an order upon the world – [at] transforming world into discourse [‘Rede’] – […] imply the complementary concept, which […] is given the name ‘contingency’. (Küpper “Ordnung” 212; trans. dsm)

|| generally, cf. Bubner Geschichtsprozesse 33–34; 46–47; 113–114; 163–164), Marquard asserts: “Zufall ist keine mißlungene Absolutheit, sondern […] Normalität” (“Apologie” 131); and counsels an “Einwilligung in das Zufällige” (Endlich. 23). By and large thereto, see Vogt (38–39; 62; 282–283; 312; 327–328; 347–348; 358–367; 374–375; 660–662; 672–673; 676–687). 242 Marquard tends to stress the passive, receptive aspects entailed by—or resulting from—(an awareness of) contingency. He does log (as above) the leeway it carves out (likely deprioritized in his skeptical take): “Der […] [B]egriff des Zufälligen (Kontingenten) – ‘contingens est, quod nec est impossibile nec necessarium’ bzw. ‘[…] quod potest non esse’ – […] ist […] vom Menschen her [gesehen] […] doppelter Art. Entweder […] ist das Zufällige ‘das, was auch anders sein könnte’ und durch uns änderbar ist […] das Beliebigkeitszufällige […]. Oder […] ‘das, was auch anders sein könnte’ und gerade nicht durch uns änderbar ist […] das Schicksalszufällige” (“Apologie” 128; cf. Endlich. 22; Gewaltenteilung 79–80). “Kunst und Religion […] sind Kontingenzbewältigungsversuche; […] Kunst […] bewältigt (vielleicht) Beliebigkeitskontingenz [sc. durch ‘Form’]; […] Religion […] bewältigt (vielleicht) Schicksalskontingenz [sc. durch ‘die Verwandlung von Grenzsituationen in Routinen’]” (“Apologie” 130). Cf. Vogt (27; 30; 38; 62; 344; 347–348; 358–367; 393; 402; 410; 415; 450; 660; 672; 676–677; 682; 684n.), cum grano salis; with Joas (15). On the religious option, Lübbe (“Kontingenzerfahrung” passim; spec. 42– 43); with Vogt (39–40; 62; 107; 124; 129; 187n.; 259n.–260n.; 297; 304; 313–324; 328; 335; 362; 365; 374–378; 660–662; 683–693); Joas (14; 16). Cf. Blumenberg—“Kontingenzbewältigung hieße also: Vertrauenswürdigkeit auch unter der Modalität des bloßen Als-Ob. Das hatte schon Luther vorbereitet mit seiner fides qua creditur anstelle der römischen fides quae creditur” (Die nackte Wahrheit 84). Bubner stresses “partikulare Kontingenzbewältigung” via “Normsetzung” (Geschichtsprozesse 255; plus: “Kontingenzeindämmung”, 293, 298): “Die Ausbildung des Ethos sorgt dafür, daß die durch Wiederholung eingeschliffenen Handlungsvollzüge im großen und ganzen der Kontingenz trotzen, der sie im Einzelfall nie zu entrinnen vermögen. […] die Praxis [‘organisiert’] sich zu gewissen Formen des Ethos […]. Ethos depotenziert Kontingenz” (Geschichtsprozesse 179). With general pertinence, he logs “daß […] Kontingenzverarbeitung […] ihrerseits einen Fall von Kontingenz darstellt, das heißt im Prinzip auch anders möglich wäre” (Geschichtsprozesse 150; infinitized; with 151; 163).

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Noting “the ambivalence of the contingent”—its “aspect of indeterminacy [‘Unbestimmtheitsmoment’]” and “possibility [‘Möglichkeitsmoment’]” (73; trans. dsm)—Makropoulos similarly remarks: “Contingency” is the “condition of possibility” for “being at all capable of crafting order and reality [‘Wirklichkeit’, sc. effectuality] by one’s own might [‘selbstmächtig’]” (73; trans. dsm).243 With Küpper, one may refer this drift back to the philosopher kat’ exochén: The location of the contingent in Aristotle is practical philosophy. Inasmuch as [it is] only [a] fundamental openness of possibilities [that] opens up a leeway for the concept of ‘action’[—and] inasmuch as [it is] only ‘action’ [that] endows speaking of ‘responsibility’[,] and thus of ‘ethics’[,] with meaning[—]the endechomenon is of central value to Aristotelian philosophy. (“Ordnung” 214; trans. dsm)244

Bubner shares this accent on praxis and agency.245 As to (Ancient) concepts of contingency, he observes that the Stagirite’s philosophical interest i[n] […] chance [‘Zufall’] […] is obviously nourished by practical sources. For the field where chance reigns is immediately also the domain of our [sc. human] action. […] The realm of chance [‘des Zufalls’] and the sphere of our action have this in common that everything may also be otherwise (ἐνδέχεται καὶ ἄλλως ἔχειν) […]. The chances that this or that […], or that anything at all takes place, or that it fails to [do so], are all distributed equally (ὁπότερ’ ἔτυχεν). (“Zufall” 6; trans. dsm)246

In general, the scholar adds that “[w]here everything may also be otherwise, change is ubiquitous” (“Zufall” 8; trans. dsm). The question always being whose agency is implied; and who performs said alterations:

|| 243 The potential for otherwiseness signifies “die Chance des Handelns und zugleich die Bedrohung des Vollzugs” (Bubner Geschichtsprozesse 178). Also Rohde (34; 57, 57n.–58n.). 244 Cf. “Der Bereich, wo der Mensch handelt, ist […] durch Kontingenz gekennzeichnet. Es ist der Bereich des Endechomenon, des So-und-anders-sein-könnens” (Inciarte 107). 245 “Praxis [‘muß’] eine Ordnungsleistung innerhalb der bestimmungsfeindlichen Sphäre des Auch-anders-sein-Könnens (καὶ ἄλλως ἔχειν) erbringen. […] dies alles bedeutet Herstellung von Ordnung dort, wo keine herrscht, […] im Bereich der Kontingenz” (Antike Themen 179). “Das aristotelische Interesse an einer Theorie des Zufalls ist […] praktisch motiviert” (“Zufall” 8; cf. 9, 11). “Praxisverhältnisse [‘sind’] der Hintergrund, vor dem das Eintreten des Zufalls Interesse weckt” (“Zufall” 10; see Geschichtsprozesse 7; 33–47; 163; 177–179; 255; 293; 298). He defines agency thus: “Handeln bedeutet Setzen von Wirklichkeit, die noch nicht ist” (“Zufall” 7). Rather, it always already occurs in a realm of ‘factuality’. No effects or acts happen sans prior ones. For criticism of Bubner’s take on Aristotelian chance, cf. Vogt (138–143). 246 (See Geschichtsprozesse 38–39; 41). Despite Bubner’s stress on an oratorical nexus (at “Zufall” 4; 12–14; 16–21; passim; also in his title), the notion of ‘equal distribution’ would seem to gainsay the general (also spec. rhetorical) emph. on degrees in the philosopher’s œuvre.

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The capacity for also being otherwise [‘Das Auch-anders-sein-können’] […] offers the actual starting point for every action. Hence action and chance [‘Zufall’] are in competition. (“Zufall” 7; trans. dsm)247

This aligns with the paronomastic affinity, Ancient rivalry of ‘týche’, ‘téchne’.248 Moreover, the rhetorical shares with the poetic art a focus (ostensively) much maligned by Plato and Augustine—that of worldly joy or gratification (delectare).249 As Küpper accentuates, the condition of possibility for the latter may well demonstrate a latent likewiseness in that virtual opposition: contingency […] [‘is’] also freedom or liberation from the pressure of regulations […][.] Being conscious of contingency [‘Kontingenzbewußtsein’] […] [is] also the enabling structure for pleasure, be it serene, be it hedonistic[.] (“Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm)

Týche and téchne tap into the same leeway. By implication, there may well be relief (if not delight) in imposing and observing one’s own imperatives.250 Skeptically—with Stoic affinities in praxi—Blumenberg sees a third option: “chance [‘Zufall’] is that sort of fate, in the face of which indifference [‘Gleichgültigkeit’, hinting equanimity] is possible” (Legitimität 174; trans. dsm). || 247 On contingency and plurality, Marquard: “Des Menschen Wirklichkeit ist […] überwiegend das Zufällige[,] […] das, was auch anders sein kann. Aber wenn es anders sein kann, dann – wenn auch zufälligerweise – ist es häufig auch anders: die zufällige Wirklichkeit – zufällig – ist vielfach so und auch anders; sie umfaßt Verschiedenes: sie ist vielgestaltig” (“Apologie” 132). 248 Cf. e.g. Gorgias (“Helen” 760–761, 49.19); and Aristotle, quoting Agathon (Rhet. 268–269, II.xix.13; generally, Met. 1–9. 340–341, 1032b, VII.vii.8; 350–351, 1034a, VII.ix.3; “Poetics” 78– 79, 1454a, §14). See the onsets of chs. 4 and 13, herein. Cf. Blumenberg (“Nachahmung [2001]” 20); Vogt (143n., citing and emph. Sommer). The latter has: “Der Zufall und die Handlung sind Rivalen” (“Zufall” 97). He further accentuates: “Es kommt nicht darauf an, ob das zufällige Ereignis mit uns oder gegen uns ist: sofern es uns die Bestimmung zukünftiger Zustände aus der Hand nimmt, ist es immer gegen uns” (“Zufall” 98). 249 With regard to the Bishop of Hippo—and the impact of his resp. notions on Western thought—see Küpper (“Uti and frui” passim; spec. S127–S132). 250 Küpper uses the formula “Bewältigung durch Ästhetisierung”—“managing [or ‘coping’, ‘mastering’] via aestheticization”; also the antithesis of a quasi “‘tamed’” and an “unfettered conception of Fortuna” (“Ordnung” 209 and 209n.; trans. dsm; plus 212; “domesticating” at 217). Cf. “[p]ermanent transformation of contingency” (“Ordnung” 223n.; trans. dsm). Withal, “texts of utmost formal discipline […] model […] contingency via the structure of exclusion. The perfectly ordered world of the aesthetic is a contrafactual world, which renders explicit its [status as a] counterworld [‘Gegenweltlichkeit’]” (“Ordnung” 210; trans. dsm). See subch. 5.1, herein. Küpper further observes the “tentative, provisional” (“Ordnung” 221; trans. dsm) utility of “conferring the appearance of being humanly graspable” (“Ordnung” 222; trans. dsm). Cf. Kablitz as to the conceptualization and positing of “Epochen […] als Strategien einer Disziplinierung von Kontingenz” (“Ende” 499).

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As contingency is the condition of possibility for either, one could coalesce poetic and ethical takes in a significative application of the liberum arbitrium: Viewed forward[,] all our events may seem like nothing but the concord of chance [‘Zufall’] and nonsense: in retrospect[,] I for my part cannot any longer make out aught of either as regards my life. (Nietzsche KSA 11. 652, 40[46]; trans. dsm)251

Perchance, said perspectivalism—and implied auto(etho)poetics—might be applied to the writers and works having served as heuristic, Early Modern paradigms above: the Celestina, Machiavelli, Montaigne, and Shakespeare.252 Rojas’ (tragi)comedia stages a ‘chaotized’ world of contingent views; and various attempts at fabricating selves.253 The socio-political theorist is notable for provisionally extrapolating conceivable general rules for action from specific data—some experienced, most read (meaning, virtual uptake). Proceeding from a diverse mass of entropic material pertaining to the past, the moral philosopher and essayist willfully engages in crafting universalizable selves—with a view to being conveyed and marketed (or downright sold) in the public sphere (and to this day).254 Among other things, the playwright takes up arbitrary, random, unlimited particulars from history, rendering them necessary in the deliberate dispositio of a poetic artifact.255

|| 251 Cf. subch. 2.3, herein. As Küpper observes (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020), Nietzsche may well be seen as attempting to outperform Macbeth’s soliloquy in particular: “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, / Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, / To the last syllable of recorded time; / And all our yesterdays have lighted fools / The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle, / Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, / That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, / And then is heard no more. It is a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury / Signifying nothing” (Shakespeare Mac 287–288, V.v.18–27). 252 Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 67n.–68n.; 82; 119–137, spec. 135; 152n.; 165n.; 177n.; passim). 253 See Küpper (Discursive 12–13; 14n.; 16; 253; 262; 267; 269n.; 270; 279–280; 287; 292; entfesselte Signifikanz 42; 54; 60; 62; 66; with 4, 49; “Ordnung” 173n.–174n.; 179; 206); Mayfield (Artful 195n.; 206n.; 436n.); and spec. ch. 6, herein. 254 Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 1–6; 95–137; 181; 182n.; passim). 255 Generally, see Mayfield (Artful 445–451).

| Methods Responding to Contingency by Way of Induction

5 Induction and Contingency Proceeding with Aristotle and Blumenberg il est plus utile de former de bons docteurs que de réduire au silence des adversaires. —Isaac (155)1 andere Ansätze nicht nur gelten lassen, sondern auch zur Geltung bringen können. Anders gesagt: […] erstens philosophisch einen Schatten werfen, […] zweitens über diesen Schatten springen können[.] —Marquard (“Manifest” 448)2

Plato’s forgetfulness is turned to good account by the philosopher. Theophrastus ties in with his teacher. While Aristotle himself will hardly have been delegated to perform his sobering inversion, he is rather likely to have detailed his own students: the serious work must go on.3 Like natural offspring, scholars are the product of diverse contingencies. While alive, one may well be able to select and further those most to one’s own

|| 1 In Attic words: “διαφθείροντα τοὺς νεωτέρους” (Plato “Apology” 94, 25D, §13; cf. 96, 26B, §14; 110, 30B, §17). See von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 232). 2 Marquard’s play on (German) idioms cannot be retained in English. The following rendition may yield the general sense: “not only [being able to] bear other approaches in mind, but also being able to bring [them] to bear. In other words: […] to first leave an impression philosophically, […] then be able to leave it be” (trans. dsm; assuming that the first “können” is zeugmatic). Otherwise: “not only allowing for other approaches, but also being able to bring them to fruition. In other words: […] first[,] to leave one’s mark philosophically, […] [and] then be able to overcome oneself [sc. one’s narcissism]” (trans. dsm). Sans respect for the probable nontransferability of the idiomatic, the ensuing would be a most literal trans. (adhering to the German syntax as far as possible, and retaining the following figura etymologica): “not only letting other approaches be valid, but also being able to bring [them] to validity. Stated otherwise: […] first cast a shadow philosophically, […] secondly be able to leap over this shadow” (trans. dsm). This (inelegant) version is needful, so as to bring out Marquard’s (tacit) allusion to a most significative philosophical anecdote: “When he [sc. Diogenes] was sunning himself […], Alexander came and stood over him and said, ‘Ask of me any boon you like’. To which he replied, ‘Stand out of my light [‘ἀποσκότησόν μου’, sc. ‘unshadow me’]’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 40–41, VI.38; with 34–35, VI.32; and Plutarch “Alexander” 258–259, XIV.3; cf. Mayfield Artful 20n.; 27–28; 42–43, spec. 43n.; 47–48; incl. further references). Beyond the particular plane, the universal tertium—or implied kathólou—will likely be magnanimitas. 3 In subch. 5.2.1, this factor is taken up in more detail. Cf. Schaeffer: “the study of cultural and particularly literary phenomena is not only a respectable but a socially indispensable endeavor, at least if we want cultural gains to be passed on and developed from one generation to the next. Artistic and aesthetic culture does not evolve by self-replication, it is reproduced and developed only by […] incarnated forms of social transmission” (“Literary Studies” 272). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-005

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liking; more prudently, the promising ones. Even so, the choice is very much limited by the human minds chance does happen to bring.4 Needless to say, posterior generations will reverse the process, and take their own pick. The judicious learn from many—counting the intellectual ‘enemy’.5 Coincidences are inevitable; their handling contingent upon the involved— should they so choose. There are always more options for coping with fortune: ‘good’ or ‘bad’ depends on the use made (noetically, in fact).6 All materials are susceptible of formation, disposition—including laterally. Tools differ. Whether tacit or express, delegation will be an operative means to said end. As preferences vary, they may be (in)directed—by failing to recall, by leaving gaps, by suspension, contradiction, by ‘manifest blunders’ (inter alia).7 Certain dispositions desire to be guided. For the most part, a reasonable method might be to let each believe that they are running their very own course. Nothing is more persuasive than the impression to be acting freely. Perchance, Blumenberg is more Machiavellian than his students could wish (not to mention the innocent epigones).8 Among the countless insinuations to this effect, a posthumously published piece may stand out. Entitled “Das jeweils Vergessene”, it commences as follows: From the perspective of their assistants, professors look like people, who have forgotten something. […][Quite] naturally[,] they have. Without having mastered the art of forgetting to some degree, there is no holding court in scholarship [and science]. From this results the distribution of competences. The invigorating experience of bringing to mind what has been forgotten in each case is up to the younger ones. (Verführbarkeit 63; trans. dsm)9

|| 4 For the student’s perspective, see Marquard—here spec. “ohne den mein Leben ganz anders verlaufen wäre” (Endlich. 18); “in liberalster Weise” (Endlich. 19). 5 “Of course, ‘one’s own arms’ include the arms of your opponent” (Mansfield Modes 12). Cf. spec. “auch gut, daß es nicht nur Pluralisten gibt” (Marquard “Manifest” 447; with 448, 450). 6 See Shakespeare: “there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so” (Ham [2nd] 250, II.ii.249–250)—doing (or failing to act), as well. 7 Cf. Strauss (Thoughts 35–37; 106–107); Mansfield (Modes 10); the onsets of chs. 7, 8, herein. 8 Aptly, Flasch accentuates “den vielgestaltigen Hans Blumenberg […] ex ungue leonem” (37). Cf. also Fellmann (“Porträt” passim). 9 “What has been forgotten in each case”: “Aus der Sicht ihrer Assistenten sehen Professoren aus wie Leute, die etwas vergessen haben. Und natürlich haben sie es. Ohne die Kunst des Vergessens einigermaßen zu beherrschen, ist in der Wissenschaft kein Staat zu machen. Daraus ergibt sich die Kompetenzverteilung. Den Jüngeren bleibt das kräftigende Erlebnis überlassen, ans jeweils Vergessene zu erinnern”. The proximity of “natürlich”, “Kunst” is of note. The central metaphor has been altered above; idiomatically, “Staat […] machen” would signify ‘to make (resp. leave) an impression’; literally, ‘to make a state’ (here, within the academic world). “Wissenschaft” comprises the natural sciences, the scholarly Humanities.

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He observes two particular oversights. In logifying milieus, “history” tends to be misplaced (“Geschichte”, Verführbarkeit 63; trans. dsm). Ontological ones put the “body” out of mind (“Leib”, Verführbarkeit 64; trans. dsm). Being the ticket of admission to the otherworldly, both blind spots will stand to reason. While few, there are also some who know what they are doing. Such as study the past could perceive the economy of the process: mindful of their matter—hence the way of all memory—they might give their purposive amnesias the ‘natural’ appearance of contingent lapses.10 Withal, there may well be method even in the plainly haphazard.11 At yet another level, ‘mastery’ of this technique will include taking advantage of habitualized dispositions in one’s surroundings. Tacit delegations are the most effectual. Should there happen to be a lover of Phenomenology, (s)he is likely to remain innocent of rhetoric forever. Conversely, another might be precisely unable to forget his Plato.12

|| 10 See Blumenberg (“Glossen [1983]” 28); Mansfield: “instances of apparent mindlessness—an unexpected silence or a mistake or contradiction, for example—must be considered for the meaning they might have, so as to be sure that […] [someone’s] blink is not a wink” (Modes 10). In less wingèd words: once Homer knows that (in order to seem good) he is supposed to nod on occasion. Cf. Horace: “bonus dormitat Homerus” (“Ars Poetica” 480, v.359). As expectable, the point is exploited by Borges (spec. “The Immortal” 190–193, IV–V). Cf. also Werner (258–259). 11 Stated otherwise: it need not even pose as “madness” (Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 248, II.ii.205–206); absence of mind might suffice (as the case may be). Cf. ch. 7 (spec. 7.2.2), herein. 12 On “purgatio” (“Entschuldigungsgründe”)—“Als unwiderstehliche Bedingungen gelten: error, casus, necessitas, oblivio”—see Lausberg (Handbuch 103–104, §187; for the term at issue: 104, §189; with Elemente 22, §31.4.b, regarding quality). Cf. Freese (“Intro.” xxxix).

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5.1 ‘The Method is the Message’: Blumenberg’s Beschreibung Denn der Inhalt ist noch nicht die ‘Botschaft’ —Blumenberg (Lebensthemen 19)13

Contingency entails an epagogic procedure. The present, heuristic segment (5.1) introduces the question of method in a terse and thetical format, precisely with a view to preparing the more detailed—discourse historical (5.2.1), applicative (5.2.2)—sections to follow. After observations on the conditions necessitating induction (5.1.1), a first attempt at describing this process itself ensues (5.1.2). The respective remarks are and remain tentative.14 Herein, the focus is on the philosopher’s approach as such—including as to content; meaning, paths factually taken, his ‘method’. The above subtitle varies McLuhan’s notorious formula with a view to demonstrating that Beschreibung— a descriptive modus operandi—is a stylistic and scholarly choice, as well as a performative statement of Blumenberg’s thought.15 In said regard, a significative gesture is provided by the deliberate titular substitution concerning his posthumous opus magnum: “‘Description of Man’ replaces the title ‘Phenomenological Anthropology’” (recorded in: M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 897; trans. dsm).16 As indicated by a comparable formulation in an iconic volume published during Blumenberg’s lifetime, one will always be dealing with ‘work in progress’.17

|| 13 “For the content is not yet the ‘message’” (trans. dsm). 14 Cf. “Überraschungen aus dem Nachlaß einkalkuliert” (Blumenberg Sachen 192). 15 See e.g. McLuhan (passim; McLuhan/Fiore passim). For further reworkings (“‘message’ to ‘massage’”), cf. Burke (“Medium” 413)—who is acutely aware of their performative effectuality: “McLuhan’s muddled method does have one advantage, rhetorically. […] it seems to have caught the attention” (“Medium” 416; with: “his rhetoric induces you to forget”, 418). See a similar formulation on Blumenberg’s part (in a Sartrean context): “diese Wesenlosigkeit […] ist […] das eigentliche Medium seiner Aussage” (zur Literatur 101). 16 “‘‘Beschreibung des Menschen’ ersetzt den Titel ‘Phänomenologische Anthropologie’’, hat sich […] Blumenberg (1920–1996) auf einem Blatt notiert” (M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 897). 17 Programmatically, the philosopher aims at “describing something under the title of ‘Work on Myth’” (“unter dem Titel ‘Arbeit am Mythos’ etwas zu beschreiben”, Arbeit 13; trans. dsm). Cf. “Wir beschreiben etwas, was es für uns gar nicht gäbe, wenn wir nicht noch zu verstehen imstande wären, was dem vorauszugehen hatte”; “zu beschreiben”; “[i]n diesem deskriptiven Sinne” (Legitimität 11)—all in the second paragraph.

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5.1.1 Writing in the Face of Contingency and Polysemy [A] culture of contingency […] [is] informed by the basic thought that what is, need not be. —Blumenberg (Sorge 57; trans. dsm; see 59, 60)18 Entlastung vom Absoluten. —Marquard (“Entlastung [1991]” passim)19

Describing ‘even so’ is distinctive for the present philosopher’s directedness.20 It may offset a textual, worldly state. His is a decidedly active vita contemplativa.21 For it is “also by way of the literary form of his works that” Blumenberg—“who argued” a case “by narrating discursively or aphoristically”—“sought relief from the absolute” (Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” XXI; trans. dsm). Seeking to give an account of intellectual causatives (retrospectively), the generic context of this remark is rhetorico-epideictic. Suitably, its drift concerns an observable persona, its professional ethos. A theoretical life’s fil rouge—its basic tendency, motivating ground swell—may be distilled from a habitual or distinctive engagement with the prágmata respectively at hand.22

|| 18 “Kontingenzkultur […] [ist] geprägt von dem Grundgedanken, daß nicht sein muß, was ist”. 19 “relief from the absolute” (trans. dsm). Repeated in Marquard’s oft-reprinted obituary (“Entlastung [1998]” passim; “Entlastung [1999]” passim; Stattdessen 108–120). Cf. subch. 10.1. 20 (Etymological) variants of ‘Trotz’ are most significative for Blumenberg (spec. “‘trotzdem’ zu leben”, Beschreibung 633; with 514, 550, 635; “Fliegenglas” 213; “Annäher. [2001]” 415; 427; “wie trotz widriger Bedingungen etwas zu erreichen ist”, Jünger 52; cf. Verführbarkeit 56; 108; Lebenszeit 359; Lebensthemen 70; Arbeit 106; Vor allem 21; 171). See Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 86–87); as well as subchs. 5.2.1 and 10.4, herein. 21 Cf. and contrast Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77–78; 81–82; 86–87): “Es gibt keine praktische Philosophie. Schon der Begriff ist für Blumenberg ein Widerspruch in sich” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 82). Such an (untenable) claim is only conceivable if one habitually ‘misplaces’ the art. Withal, it may seem inconsistent to perceive a “paradigmatische Einstellung” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77), but then insinuate its ‘impracticality’ (as it were). There are no contents without form (cf. Lotman 24). In Shakespearean terms: “More matter with less art” is an option; “us[ing] no art at all” (Ham [2nd] 241, II.ii.95–96)—impossible. See the n. below. 22 Contrast Sommer: “Dem Habitus entspringen keinerlei Inhalte” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77). The categorical negation is inapplicable; proceeds from unrhetorical ideas about ‘content’. Sans form, naught will seem the matter. His qualification is valid: “wohl aber Präferenzen für ihre Auswahl, Weisen, sie aufzufassen, […] Konzepte, sie literarisch zu arrangieren […] positionieren” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77). Technico-artfully, dispositio can never be severed from inventio (nor elocutio, on that score). Sommer’s (Kantian) tenets obstruct an appreciation of this indivisible nexus: a “rein immanente Rhetorik” has never existed (“Zu keiner Zeit” 84; to say naught of having “keine Wirkungsabsicht”). The third Critique is unworldly; cf. subch. 13.2.

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Referring to Kafka in 1952, Blumenberg notes “an overpowering suffering from the absolute” (zur Literatur 107; trans. dsm).23 The onset of his monumental Arbeit am Mythos (1979) stresses facing the “absolutism of the factual” (Arbeit 10; trans. dsm).24 Also diachronically, Marquard’s formula may seem plausible. The latter co-edited the last volume of Poetik und Hermeneutik, wherein the aforesaid commemorative address is printed. This tome will have been inspired by one of the central catalysts for Blumenberg’s thinking.25 From a certain perspective, contingency might seem ‘absolutistic’ outright. The philosopher’s confronting—and rhetorically coping with—the same may be taken to permeate the entirety of his written life, in scholarly and essayistic respects. The word “Kontingenz” already appears in a 1945 essay on Dostoevsky (zur Literatur 19); is present and thematic in his 1947 dissertation (Beiträge 25)—both published posthumously. A respective dictionary entry follows in 1959, wherein Blumenberg highlights the term as “one of the few concepts of a specifically Christian origin in the history of […] metaphysics, while having emerged from the Latinization of Aristotelian logic” (“Kontingenz” 1793; trans. dsm).26 This brief article also signals what would later become the undercurrent of his first opus magnum: “Beginning with the Modern Age[,] one sought for a way out of” the state of “being overwhelmed by the consciousness of c[ontingency regarding the] world and self” (“Kontingenz” 1794; trans. dsm).27 This is key for Die Legitimität der Neuzeit—especially in a “radical” sense, inducing a “dimension of sheer uncertainty” (Legitimität 181; trans. dsm).28 Facing a (noetically) unbearable situation, “human[s] construct a counterworld of elementary rationality and availability” (Legitimität 197; trans. dsm).29

|| 23 “einer übermächtigen Not am Absoluten”. 24 “Absolutismus der Wirklichkeit”. Cf. Blumenberg as to “Distanzen und Entlastungen vom Absolutismus der Wirklichkeit” (Realität 127). 25 Entitled Kontingenz. Cf. spec. Graevenitz/Marquard (“Vorwort” passim); Bubner (“Zufall” passim); Küpper (“Ordnung” passim; “Episteme” passim); and (sub)chs. 1, 2.4, 4.5, 6.5, 11.1. 26 The word “ist einer der wenigen Begriffe spezifisch christlicher Herkunft in der Geschichte der […] Metaphysik, obwohl er aus der Latinisierung der aristotelischen Logik hervorgegangen ist ([…] Boethius […] übersetzt in den beiden Kommentaren zur Hermeneutik ἐνδέχεσθαι mit ‘contingere’)” (“Kontingenz” 1793). See subch. 4.4, herein. 27 “Mit Beginn der Neuzeit sucht man nach einem Ausweg aus der Überwältigung durch das Welt- und Selbstbewußtsein der K[ontingenz]”. Cf. spec. Küpper (“Ordnung” 173n.–174n.). 28 “radikale Kontingenz”; “Dimension schlechthinniger Ungewißheit”. 29 “Der […] Mensch konstruiert sich eine Gegenwelt von elementarer Rationalität und Verfügbarkeit”. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 445–451; also “Against” 15n.; “Interplay” 33n.; “hypólepsis” 272; Ventriloquism 48, 48n.; 70n.; 103n.; 105n.; 107; 108n.; 112–113; 127, 127n.; 129; 155–156).

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A similarly ‘anthropistic’ accent holds sway in Blumenberg’s posthumous Description of Man, wherein the concept at issue features prominently—notably throughout its second part on “Contingency and Visibility” (Beschreibung 471– 895; here: 471; trans. dsm).30 This thematic focus seems to have been a lifelong concern for the present philosopher. ‘Absolute’, “naked contingency” (Arbeit 681; trans. dsm) deals with the ultimate query as to ‘why there is anything (rather than naught)’.31 The ‘relative’ variant involves the case at hand: facts and particulars may be (or seem) else, not at all—or (virtually) both at once.32 Blumenberg describes a “culture of contingency” as being “shaped by the basic thought that what is need not be”— now, in the future (Sorge 57; trans. dsm; with 59–60). Complementarily, a rhetorical one is formed on the assumption that what was—has (or appears to have) happened—is not necessary either (see 4.1 to 4.4, herein). It may be perceived as a threat. Notionally, the contingent seems capable of destabilizing almost anything. Calling to mind the transitoriness, ephemerality of all things human, it marks a counter-concept to any essentialist mindset— regardless of their passing lógoi. In Sloane’s elegantly alliterative, paronomastic formulation: “ambivalence […] is an affront to absolutism” (“Education” 174; infinitized)—precisely because its causative is another.33 Humans have a—potentially hazardous—capacity for thinking in terms of otherwiseness; and also for conveying the corresponding thought, far beyond

|| 30 “Kontingenz und Sichtbarkeit”. Cf. spec. “Eine beschreibende Anthropologie, sofern sie, philosophisch zu sein, vorhat, kann nicht alles und jeden beschreiben, was sie einschlägig vorfindet. Es liegt nahe, […] daß ihr Thema vor allem die Beschreibbarkeit selbst ist, sofern sie am Menschen von der der Dinge abweicht. Der Mensch ist nicht nur beschreibbar, weil er sichtbar ist, sondern indem diese Sichtbarkeit ihn durch und durch bestimmt bis hin zu ihrer ostentativen Selbstdarstellung. Aber vor allem ist er sichtbar, indem er undurchsichtig ist” (Selbstverständnis [1997] 139–140; with “Ineinander von Visibilität und Opazität”, 140). 31 “Die nackte Kontingenz der Welt” (Arbeit 681). “Die Erwägung der absoluten Kontingenz, des möglichen Nichtseins der Welt”; in the words of “Leibniz”: “cur aliquid potius quam nihil” (“Sokrates [2001]” 110; “Sokrates [1964]” 321–322; with Realität 9; 20; Beiträge 50; 52; 135). Cf. Flasch (464); Blumenberg: “Seit[…] Augustin auf die Frage, warum Gott die Welt geschaffen habe, mit dem ‘Quia voluit’ geantwortet hatte […], beruhte die Welt auf einem unbefragbaren Hoheitsakt” (“Kontingenz” 1794; with Augustine “Contra Manich.” 175, I.ii.4). See subch. 4.4. 32 Cf. “die relative Kontingenz, daß die Welt auch anders sein könnte, als sie ist” (“Sokrates [2001]” 110; “Sokrates [1964]” 321–322). “Es gehört zum Kontingenzbewußtsein, das jedem Leben verhängt ist, nicht das andere und statt dessen dieses zu sein, heute und hier statt morgen und dort zu existieren, schließlich überhaupt statt eher gar nicht dazusein” (Sorge 67). 33 On “Äquivozität […] als eine chaotische Erscheinung der Zufalls”, see Lausberg (Elemente 56, §146; with Aristotle NE 22–23, 1096b, I.vi.12).

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their proximate surroundings (spatially, temporally). What is, may also not be; be else; or (seem to) be, and simultaneously signify not being and being else.34 Even so, contingency is—might emphatically be taken as—a prerequisite for liberty.35 This covers the Phenomenological device of ‘free variation’. Practiced throughout his œuvre, Blumenberg describes the resulting “perspectivism” as “a network of allocatable variables” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 114–115; trans. dsm).36 Things tend to look different from other positions in space or time—including sheerly simulated ones. One may well have a hand (or mind) in the process.37 The philosopher perceives Nominalism’s “methodical style” as “the free variation of all” Scholastic “sentences valid until that point” (Legitimität 179; trans. dsm).38 Permitting change and polysemy, contingency warrants notional independence—as well as a certain leeway for its implementation. With respect to human virtuosity, Blumenberg suitably observes: “in art[,] the precedence of […] form […] reflects possibility as such” (“Sokrates [2001]” 110; trans. dsm).39 Moreover, “consciousness” itself is “a formalism”—“a system of variables with factual functionalizability”: this warrants “freedom” per se (“Sokrates [2001]” 110; trans. dsm).40 In Ancient terms: téchne contra týche.41 Finding oneself faced with—or downright confronting—a world of “radical contingency” (Legitimität 181; trans. dsm) will tend to yield an increasingly entropic diversification of meanings, valences.42 The fact that anything might as well be else—including not at all—is taken to be the cause of the plurality, diversity, and (potential) perspectivism encountered in the world.43

|| 34 Cf. “Kontingenz […] d. h. […] auch-anders-sein-könnend” (Wirklichkeiten 23; infinitized). 35 See spec. subchs. 2.2, 3.7, and 4.2 to 4.5, herein. 36 “Perspektivismus […] als Netz besetzbarer Variablen”. 37 See Küpper as to a “conscious multiplication of perspectives” (“Einige Bemerkungen” 20; trans. dsm). Cf. spec. ch. 12, herein. 38 “deren methodischer Stil die freie Variation aller bis dahin gültigen […] Sätze der Scholastik werden sollte”. Sententiae are phenomena also; see subch. 5.2.1; generally 4.4; the onset of 11.1. 39 “der Vorrang des Formalen in der Kunst […] reflektiert die Möglichkeit selbst” (also at “Sokrates [1964]” 322). 40 “Freiheit beruht auf dem Wesen des Bewußtseins als einem Formalismus, als einem System von Variablen faktischer Besetzbarkeit” (also at “Sokrates [1964]” 322). 41 Cf. spec. subch. 3.5; the onset of 4; as well as ch. 13, herein. 42 See Kablitz as regards ‘declaring’ “die Sprache zum Spiel semantischer Kontingenz” (“Verwandlung” 328). The scholar speaks of “einem Zufall, der […] nicht einmal mehr die Verläßlichkeit des Widersprüchlichen bietet” (“Verwandlung” 301; cf. 339); “einer radikalen Kontingenz, die aller Ordnung hohnspricht” (“Verwandlung” 302; with “Allgewalt […] [des] Zufalls”, “irreduzible Kontingenz”, 321; see 328n.–329n.). 43 Cf. “Obwohl auch für die Sprache die Unordnung den Zustand statistischer

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At all times has humankind attempted to bring this disparate state of affairs under control: by myths, mores, nómoi, rituals; by works of art, religions, and philosophies; by scholarly, speculative, or scientific approaches; inter alia.44 These might be described as prompted, effected by an (immediate) experience of contingency; as well as an (implicit) unwillingness to let it reign unchecked— at least not without having taken a stand, and put up a fight.45 Virtually all human activities—téchnai notably—are aimed at provisionally controlling, briefly subduing chance, chaos, entropy; at tentatively overcoming facticity, for the time being. While some methods tend to be more effectual than others, none are ultimate. For all must remain relative to the respective present; and makeshift sub specie temporis. Science and scholarship will be ways of facing—as well as coping with— otherwiseness, and the resultant “multiplicity of meaning” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 149; trans. dsm).46 In this sense, “[‘]polysemia is primary’” indeed (Deguy, cited in: Genette 117)—contingency being its condition of possibility.47 As an antidote, various forms of (habitual, linguistic, logical) organization— disciplines, regimes, economies—will be instituted: All known attempts at imposing an order upon the world – [at] transforming world into discourse [‘Rede’] – […] imply the complementary concept, which […] is given the name ‘contingency’. (Küpper “Ordnung” 212; trans. dsm; see chapters 1, 2.2, 4.5, 6.5, herein)

|| Wahrscheinlichkeit darstellt”; “die Tendenz zur Vieldeutigkeit” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 154; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 13; with context). See Stierle: “Montaignes Essais sind eine Summe der Vielheit. Diversité ist das Stichwort, das durch alle Essays hindurch mit Beharrlichkeit wiederkehrt und ihre thematische Achse bestimmt” (plus: “die Erfahrung der Vielheit so intensiv machen wie Montaigne”, Moralisten 36). “Montaignes Essais aber sind Versuche, dieser Vielheit mit der Kraft der Reflexion zu begegnen, ihr in gelassener Unruhe und unruhiger Gelassenheit standzuhalten. Die Essais sind Einübungen in die Wahrnehmung der Vielheit und Einübungen in die Kunst, die Wahrnehmung der Vielheit selbst wahrzunehmen” (Moralisten 36–37; “Vielheit” 424). Montaigne’s œuvre is a central intertext for Blumenberg generally; see spec. subchs. 5.2.1 to 5.1.3; and 11.1.2, herein. 44 Cf. Marquard (“Apologie” 130); Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 179; 255; 293; 298); subch. 4.5. 45 As to a “Lesbarkeitsmetaphorik”, Blumenberg logs “[d]aß sich der Mensch der Überfülle der Erscheinungen durch Ordnungsleistungen erwehrt” (Lesbarkeit 220). For the nexus of contingency, diversity, and rhetoric, cf. Sloane (Contrary 10–11); and the onset of ch. 8, herein. 46 “die Multiplizität der Bedeutung” (also at “Sprachsituation [2001]” 126). 47 See Gamper regarding similar tendencies in the eighteenth century (“Dichtung als ‘Versuch’” 603–605). He précises: “Literatur und Experimentalwissenschaften präsentieren sich in der Moderne […] als Foren eines Möglichkeitsdenkens und -handelns, das auf Kontingenzerfahrung reagiert und diese in den Mittelpunkt von Verfahren des Wissens stellt” (“Dichtung als ‘Versuch’” 605; with “Kontingenzerzeugung als Funktion der Kunst”, 606).

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Inter alia, rhetoric tenders an arsenal of general techniques, particular devices for actively (or ‘poetically’) handling contingent data. Deliberately interpreting, or manipulating, (im)mediate perceptions, hermeneutics will be one way to attain a—momentary, always provisional—impression of orderliness.48 Polysemous conditions remain a threat to those—hardly rare, ideologically hardened—desires for certitude, permanence, unilaterality. In a programmatic essay, Blumenberg calls for bearing ‘Vieldeutigkeit’ with respect to art.49 Any work (thereof) is an expression—not of the world simply, but—of the distinctly human ways of approaching, perceiving their surroundings.50 Within a certain framework—in a ‘safe’ testing environment designed for provisional, heuristico-exploratory, poetico-playful maneuvers—art (literature specifically) marks a way of coping with the contingent conditions anyone could encounter in the world at large.51 For instance, one might face doubt as to what something may mean; or the experience of interpretive pluralities; as well as a detail’s or aggregate’s manifold ways of signifying.52

|| 48 As far as effectuality is concerned, appearances are typically seen to suffice; hence the rhetorical accent on the eikós. See the onset of ch. 8, herein. 49 In an early essay of 1947: “‘fließend und vieldeutig’, das Auftauchen und Sichtbarwerden von Vieldeutigkeiten […] sichtlich gewordene Vieldeutigkeiten” (“sprachliche Wirklichkeit” 431). See the title of a 1966 article (“Vieldeutigkeit” passim; here: 112); along with these formulations: “ich glaube, daß […] Zweideutigkeit in den Bereich einer […] menschlichen Redlichkeit des Dichters gehört, an die wir nicht gewaltsam rühren sollten” (zur Literatur 63; infinitized; plus “Zweideutigkeit” , 74; “doppelte Deutbarkeit”, “daß die Phänomene eine Rückseite haben”, “Doppeldeutigkeit der wirklichen Welt”, 81). A resp. density seems discernible in his studies at that time. Blumenberg stresses: “Nichts vermag den Leser vor dieser Alternative zwingend festzulegen” (zur Literatur 82). Such bivalence—and dichotomies, more generally—tend to be pluralized in his later work. Even so, there are also caveats (here in a Gracianian context): “Man darf sich […] nicht in den Strudel der Vieldeutigkeit hineinziehen lassen […]. Die Chiffre des ‘Undsoweiter’ ist ein gefährliches Passepartout für die Doppeldeutigkeit der Welt” (Lesbarkeit 115). In Ancient words: ‘medèn ágan’. 50 See Lotman’s description of “Kunst” qua “sekundäres modellbildendes System” (22; cf. spec. 23, 61, 301); with the modifications in Kablitz (Kunst 161–165). 51 (The realm of) art is something like a laboratory of consciousness: “Kunst hat es immer mit dem Bewußtsein zu tun und nimmt es mit ihm auf. Sie stimuliert” (Sachen 205). 52 Cf. Jakobson: “The supremacy of the poetic function over the referential function does not obliterate the reference but makes it ambiguous” (“Linguistics” 85). See the qualifications in Kablitz (Kunst 58–62; 150–153). Küpper stresses: “the artform of literature is based on a semiotic system, which is structurally homologous” to the one made use of by “philosophy”; while the case will naturally differ with respect to “painting and music” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; May 17, and July 2, 2020; trans. dsm).

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As per Blumenberg, “polysemy” can be comprehended as a “complexity of constellations and induced meanings” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 155; trans. dsm).53 He reliably accentuates “respect for everything, which there may still” and else “be in terms of phenomena”—precisely “in this plural” (Sachen 177).54 Eloquently, the philosopher insists on “saving” them “from being overlooked and forgotten, disdained and declared irrelevant” (Sachen 190; trans. dsm).55 Withal, “the plurality of aesthetic interpretations” marks an enactment of human liberty, seeing that a “simultaneity of aspects” delegates “the choice of the interpretive standpoint […] to the observer” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 117; trans. dsm).56 Hence: “The polysemy of poetic language conveys a consciousness of aesthetic freedom itself” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 153; trans. dsm).57 Concerning commentaries and the “polysemy of the aesthetic object”, Blumenberg highlights their “plurality”, “copia”, the “potentiality of their implications” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 114; trans. dsm)—while arguing against a reductive unilateralization.58 As to the tendency of “philosophical language”, he discerns a “‘controlled polysemy’” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 148; trans. dsm).59

|| 53 “Vieldeutigkeit”; “Komplexität der Konstellationen und Bedeutungsinduktionen” (also at “Sprachsituation [2001]” 135). 54 “Rücksicht auf alles, was es an Phänomenen, in diesem Plural, sonst noch geben mag”— negated for the slant of “Fundamentalontologie” (Sachen 177); hence affirmed ex negativo. 55 “Rettung der Phänomene”; “die Phänomene davor retten, übersehen und vergessen, verachtet und für irrelevant erklärt zu werden”. Cf. “zunächst gilt es, die Phänomene zu beschreiben” (“Zukunft” 128). 56 “die Pluralität der ästhetischen Interpretationen”; “Pluralität als Gleichzeitigkeit von Aspekten […] dem Betrachter die Wahl des Deutungsstandpunktes […] offenlassen”. He stresses diachronic, phenomenistic diversity: “ästhetischen Pluralismus […] ästhetischen Historismus” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 118); ‘pluralistic simultaneity’ (“gleichzeitige[…] Pluralität”, “Vieldeutigkeit” 118). “In der Musik […] ist ständig eine Gesamtheit von Möglichkeiten gegenwärtig, […] und vor allem ohne Einschränkung des noch Möglichen durch das schon Realisierte” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 152; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 130); “der Roman […] kann nur Möglichkeiten dieser Valenzen frei lassen, an denen sich der Leser so oder so entscheidet” (zur Literatur 82). 57 “Die Vieldeutigkeit der poetischen Sprache vermittelt ein Bewußtsein der ästhetischen Freiheit selbst” (also at “Sprachsituation [2001]” 132). As to “the polyphony and polysemy of poetic enunciations” (“Literary Studies” 281), see Schaeffer, accentuating: “The more” one is “able to tolerate a high degree of cognitive divergence, the more” one “will be able to draw satisfaction from poetry” (“Literary Studies” 280). 58 “Vieldeutigkeit des ästhetischen Gegenstandes”, “Pluralität”, “Potentialität ihrer Implikationen”, “Reichtum”. In art, “Vieldeutigkeit” is not tantamount to a “Mangel an Verbindlichkeit und Klarheit” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 115). 59 “Die philosophische Sprache”; “Tendenz […] auf ‘kontrollierte Mehrdeutigkeit’” (also at “Sprachsituation [2001]” 125). In this respect, Merker’s remark requires being nuanced: “Die

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Art might purposively retain “the remaining indefiniteness of other possibilities” (“Sokrates [2001]” 106; trans. dsm).60 It may yield—even cultivate—a certain contingency (in its latencies, potentials). For “the aesthetic approach lets indefiniteness stand”; it “waives […] unambiguousness” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 119; trans. dsm).61 Such hesitancy before the scientific slant towards definitude, logification, and the resultant one-sidedness is considered an added value in art—perchance, or likely, its distinctive characteristic.62 If nuanced, this ground swell will hold good for a descriptive scholarly praxis more generally; and for Blumenberg’s especially. While tending toward clarity, a simultaneity of perspectives is ever found to obtain in effect. Any “work in description” (“Arbeit in der Deskription”, “Vieldeutigkeit” 115; trans. dsm) factually produces a sequence of concurrent facets, polyphonies—whether that be the objective, or not. Hence the philosopher articulates the factor of competitiveness at play with regard to hermeneutic writings in circulation: || ‘Auflösung der Vieldeutigkeit’ delegiert Blumenberg an die Begriffsgeschichte, an deren Arbeit er sich aber auch selber beteiligt” (69). While the initial noun will generally have to be taken cum grano salis, it may seem as though its pluralization—the same as that of ‘conceptual (hi)stories’—might aid the case; cf. the n. below. 60 “die verbleibende Unbestimmtheit anderer Möglichkeiten bewußt lassen” (also at “Sokrates [1964]” 318). For an artful application in Valéry, see Blumenberg (“Sokrates [2001]” 80; “Sokrates [1964]” 291–292); spec. “daß das objet ambigu ‘nichts’ ist und ‘nichts’ bedeutet […] steigert seine Bedeutung ins Unabsehbare: es stellt alle Fragen und läßt sie offen” (“Sokrates [2001]” 90; “Sokrates [1964]” 301). Generally, cf. Amslinger (173–210; spec. 187, 195– 197, 205, 209–210); Krauthausen (passim; especially: “zunächst ein zufälliges Fundstück”, 58). 61 “die ästhetische Einstellung läßt die Unbestimmtheit stehen”; “Verzicht auf […] Eindeutigkeit”. Cf. “Der Wille des Autors, als eindeutig bestimmter vorgestellt, ist von vornherein inadäquat der essentiellen Vieldeutigkeit und Unbestimmtheit dessen, was als ästhetisch ansprechender Gegenstand existiert” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 116). This shifts the focus to the recipient. Blumenberg observes “daß das [‘Kunst’]Werk […] sich erst im Dialog mit dem, der es empfängt, versteht und auslegt” (zur Literatur 82). 62 See subch. 5.1.3, herein. Cf. “Die als tendenziell zwischen Eindeutigkeit und Vieldeutigkeit ausgespannt beschriebene Sprachsituation läßt die poetische Möglichkeit der Sprache anders sehen. Wenn die Sprache ein Potential der Vieldeutigkeit ist […] dann wäre die poetische Sprache gerade die Freigabe der immanenten Tendenz auf die Multiplizität der Bedeutung” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 149; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 126); “dieses Tendenzielle [ist] durch die Angabe der beiden Richtungen ‘Eindeutigkeit’ und ‘Vieldeutigkeit’ [zu] beschreiben. […] Die Sprache der Wissenschaft tendiert […] auf Eindeutigkeit […]. Die Maxime der Eindeutigkeit ist schon durch die besondere Weise wissenschaftlicher Mitteilung gegeben […]. Aber die Tendenz der wissenschaftlichen Sprache zur Eindeutigkeit geht zu Lasten ihrer Weite und Allgemeinheit: Wissenschaftliche Sprache gibt es überhaupt nur im Plural, als Inbegriff der Fachsprachen, die exklusive Regionalidiome sind, verstärkt isoliert durch ein soziologisches Moment” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 148; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 124–125). See subch. 5.2.

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indeed, aesthetic experience is formulated only so as to compete with others, to prevail over others[;] but this in terms of a pluralistic reassurance of the object’s relevance, not primarily of the ‘rightness’ of one’s own position. (“Vieldeutigkeit” 117; trans. dsm)63

The rhetorical mode and purpose is retained; but the triumph is ultimately cultural, not privat(iv)e.64 The time- and ceaseless academic trenching (all that ideological shadow boxing even) will be in a higher—meaning, human—service. With regard to, and in art, multivalence is not only tolerated, but also emphatically sought, at times—specifically in ‘Modernity’. Blumenberg speaks of one’s being “capable of polysemy”, hence of an “aesthetic disposition” (Legitimität 125; trans. dsm).65 Likewise, the work itself conduces to ‘multiple meanings’, yielding a field “for description” (Lebenszeit 33; trans. dsm).66 Apart from these sheltered realms, versatility is also requisite in the vita activa. Then again, a capacity for manifold signification—whose conditio sine qua non is contingency—might be inconvenient, even downright threatening, in the world at large (depending on the circumstances). While counseling one’s “entering into the aesthetic statement’s horizon of potentiality”, Blumenberg does observe that “certain basic experiences cannot be omitted in empirical factuality” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 118; trans. dsm).67 || 63 “formuliert wird die ästhetische Erfahrung doch nur, um sich mit anderen zu messen, um sich gegen andere zu behaupten, aber dies im Sinne einer pluralistischen Versicherung der Relevanz des Gegenstandes, nicht primär der ‘Richtigkeit’ der eigenen Position”. As to the principal, potential plurality of ‘hypotheses’, see Blumenberg (“Sokrates [2001]” 106; “Sokrates [1964]” 317–318; with Mayfield “Against” 2n.–3n.). Cf. Krauthausen (54); Amslinger (203–206; 209–210); spec. her précis: “Das literarische Motiv des objet ambigu hat sich in die rhetorische Figur wissenschaftlicher Polyvalenzen interdisziplinärer Forschung verwandelt. In der Form der zwischenfachlichen Unschärfe treten Valérys Vieldeutigkeiten als Ermöglichungsgrund des Gesprächs wieder in den poetisch-hermeneutischen Dialog” (210; referring to: Blumenberg “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 11–12; “Wirkungspotential [2001]” 327–328). “Blumenbergs Arbeiten zur sprachlichen Vieldeutigkeit lassen sich als Metatexte zur eigenen Erfahrung mit Poetik und Hermeneutik verstehen” (Amslinger 211). Cf. Krauthausen (61–67; passim). 64 On prevalence as the purpose of (the) art, see Blumenberg (“Annäher. [2001]” 428); with Hobbes, considering “truth” a ‘contingent’ side effect of aspiring to (or having aimed at) “victory” (“Citizen” 231, X.11). Cf. Mayfield (“Interplay” 18n.–19n.); plus subch. 8.3.2, herein. 65 “der […] Vieldeutigkeit und damit […] ästhetischen Disposition fähig”. 66 “Disposition zur Beschreibung”. Cf. “Disposition zur Vieldeutigkeit ist immer auch etwas an der Sache selbst” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 12). 67 “so wie in der empirischen Realität bestimmte Grunderfahrungen nicht ausgelassen werden können”; “Eintreten in den Potentialitätshorizont der ästhetischen Stellungnahme”. See Krauthausen (54). As Schaeffer stresses, the former applies also to the aesthetic realm: “the direct […] experience of a work of art cannot be replaced by an analytic shortcut. […] the literary work gives us access to a mode of experience that is specific, and therefore (like most

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The human brain’s ability to think in terms of otherwiseness—that most any thing might as well be else, or not at all—comes into play once more. Polysemy itself is grounded in a capacity to be taking a single stimulus in various ways (or none); to perceive an apparently specific case qua already general; et caetera. Virtually any datum may be seen (or taken) as being of diverse meanings or valences—not only sequentially, but even simultaneously. This will be an effect of said animal’s habitual experience of—hence (potential) reckoning with— contingency. Noetically and verbally, anything might (be made to) appear else— even while actually being, or remaining, what it is (including inexistent). Decidedly human, art is a way of coping with, and offsetting, contingency; an ‘imposition’ of form, frame, order.68 In its effects, this mode is as polysemous as that which is dealt with by modeling, mirroring, depicting, or reenacting the same. Albeit with a decisive difference: said plurality occurs in an environment that the animals in question perceive as—or take to be—secure, innocuous, under control. The realm of téchnai could be seen as a safe room, wherein one might play out potentially anything: test meanings, variants, alternative forms and significations, a multiplicity of senses—with no harm done. A descriptive mode may be a scholarly equivalent for facing or handling contingency, counting the resultant polysemy. If matter never rests from being modified; if eternity is neither primary, nor attainable in fact; if all could be else, or no way—a deductive schema is doomed to fail (by pragmatic measures). Conversely, an inductive procedure—describing the particular or peculiar phainómena at hand (each and sundry, as the case may be)—might yield a provisorily viable approach to a world of chance (see 4.2 and 5.1.3, herein).

5.1.2 Description bei den Sachen zu bleiben. —Blumenberg (Sachen 153)69

|| modes of experience) irreplaceable” (“Literary Studies” 277). For “[r]eading […] is a moment of life, a lived experience as real as any other” (“Literary Studies” 281). 68 Cf. Küpper (“Ordnung” 212); Mayfield (Artful 445–451). “Verstehen ist immer ein Umweg” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 276): “Wir verstehen nur, was wir gemacht haben, und wir verstehen anderes, was wir nicht gemacht haben, eben nur auf dem Umweg über das, was wir gemacht haben” (Lesbarkeit 175)—i.e. “sola humana arte” (Nicholas of Cusa qtd. in: Legitimität 621). Cf. also subchs. 5.2.1, 6.6.1, and 11.1, herein. 69 “to remain with things [sc. the case resp. at hand, with what is the ‘sake’]” (trans. dsm).

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‘Beschreibung’ is a keyword for the present philosopher: not only in its precise Phenomenological sense; but also rhetorically (if tacitly).70 In terms of the latter, descriptio tends to be employed with a view to evidentia—crafting a noeticovirtual impression for the respective recipients.71 This sense is (latently) present in Blumenberg’s multipurpose collocation ‘momentaneous evidence’; and in his reliable accent on ‘Anschaulichkeit’: “Description is based on [vivid] perception, if it conduces to producing [such a] perception” (Beschreibung 170; trans. dsm).72 Like rhetoric overall, the verisimilarizing process is ‘entechnic’ itself. With respect to another, Blumenberg speaks of “Beschreibungskunst” (Goethe 74; trans. dsm).73 The same might be said for his own virtuosity, seeing as such limning conduces to an enargic effect, while remaining ‘sakely’—composed and sober like Aristotle.74 Withal, the philosopher’s phenomenistic pluralism tends

|| 70 Cf. “die phänomenologische Grundform der Resultatbildung, die Deskription” (Lebenszeit 328). As to the philosopher’s criticism of said discipline, see subch. 5.2.1. On Blumenberg and rhetoric, cf. Mayfield (“Interplay” 5; 5n.; 8n.; 9n.; 20n.–22n.; 24n.–26n.); plus ch. 11, herein. 71 (Cf. Rhet. ad Her. 356, IV.xxxix.51). Quintilian’s application: “A considerable contribution to the effect [‘multum confert’] may be made by combining [‘adiecta’] the true facts [‘veris’] with a plausible picture of the scene [‘credibilis rerum imago’], which […] gives the impression [‘videtur’] of bringing the audience [‘perducere audientis’] face to face with the event [‘in rem praesentem’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 278–279, 4.2.123; he speaks of a “descriptio”, 278). Cf. “dilucida et significans descriptio” (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 58–59, 9.2.44, here as “of places”; plus Rhet. ad Her. 356–357, IV.xxxix.51; 356n.). Krauthausen accentuates “Verfahren der Evidenzerzeugung” in an affine context (51–52; with 58–60, 66; spec. “‘Vor-Augen-Stellen’”, “rhetorische Strategien der Evokation”, “der literarisch-verbalen Bildgenerierung”, 58). Cf. subch. 5.2.2, herein. 72 “Beschreibung beruht […] auf Anschauung, wenn sie Anschauung herzustellen ermöglicht”. Cf. “Beschreibung enthält die Evidenz nicht, sie ermöglicht […] ihre […] Erzeugung” (Lebenszeit 328; see also Sachen 194–195). “Philosophie […] als beschreibende Disziplin […] verschafft die Erlebnisse, auf denen sie beruht, und stellt dadurch Autor und Auditor auf gleiches Niveau: das der prinzipiellen Umkehrbarkeit ihres Verhältnisses” (Lebenszeit 365; with 328). See subch. 5.2.2. As to ‘momentane Evidenz’ (mutatis mutandis), cf. Blumenberg (e.g. “Möglichkeit [1983]” passim; spec. 10–12; 15; 26; with “Möglichkeit [2001]” 49; passim; Arbeit 533; Selbstverständnis [1997] 111; 122–123; 124; Quellen 43; Beschreibung 161; Lebenswelt 180; Lebenszeit 114; 127; 137; 139; spec. Realität 10; 19; 43–47; 51–53; 57; 64; 66; 68–71; 75; 82–83; 91; 97; 101; passim). For applications, cf. Mayfield (Artful 48n.; 92, spec. 92n.; 256n.; “hypólepsis” 249–251, 249n.–250n.; 254n.; 256n.; 262, 262n.; Ventriloquism 6, 6n.; 13n.; 71; 95; 104n.–105n.; 117; 164; 168; 170). 73 For Gadamer’s ascribing said term to Husserl, see Blumenberg (“Über den Rand” 18). On entechnicity (here mutatis mutandis), cf. Aristotle (Rhet. 14–17, 1355b–1356a, I.ii.2–6); with Mayfield (Ventriloquism 10n.; 12n.; 34n.; spec. 66–69, 66n.–68n.; 75n.; 76; 91n.; 94n.; 107n.). 74 Contrast Wetz/Timm, whose ensuing claim as to Blumenberg may be the very nadir of those assorted untenabilities in a value judgmental preface: “Niemanden darf es […] verwundern, daß seinen Darlegungen oftmals die Nüchternheit und Klarheit der phänomenologischen Beschreibung fehlt, wie überhaupt seine Stärke weniger in der Deskription […] lag” (11).

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to the manifold, polysemous matters at issue from various perspectives. As far as humanly possible, his Beschreibungen pertain to the impartial arts. There is method in said mode; it is also a ‘way to go’.75 In scholarship, the ‘trail’—whether taken or blazed—effectually counts as such. Describing marks a process of (noetico-virtually) moving around things, thoughts under scrutiny. From different angles, stances, points of varying distance, one charts the views of, and on, something (factual, verbal, apparent)—including the perspectives taken by others (presently, historically).76 In potentia, this approach might comprise conjectures about those sides and surfaces (at hand, in sight or mind) as are—or may currently be—beyond one’s own scope (grasp, reach).77 Beschreibung is tentative, work in progress. Practiced to attain proximate ken of a given or supposed matter, this scholarly maneuver entails deeming it conducive to log prior notions, assumptions, standpoints adopted, renderings already made; and to let them stand, for the time being. Ever provisional, descriptiveness not only multiplies what it observes—the various views of, or on, a particular phenomenon (counting texts, thoughts). It also pluralizes the approach—by often including potential perspectives, as well. Under certain conditions, this may even involve paths that could never actually be taken.78 Not only dis-, but specifically excursive, Blumenberg’s mode is marked by detours (not without a grain of ‘makeshiftiness’).79 Contingency, the resultant || 75 Cf. Ritter (Metaphysik 39; with 79); Trimpi (“Reason” 108); Blumenberg (“Methode” 133– 134); Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 233); as also cited in subch. 5.2.1, herein. 76 In certain settings, the latter may well have aimed at conducing to this vicarious praxis precisely. As to the interplay of (Enlightenment) science and literature, Gamper logs that a “clear description of the experiments” is “necessary, in order to […] render them intelligible [‘einsichtig’] and repeatable” for others (“Das Neue schreiben” 127; trans. dsm). He references (at “Das Neue schreiben” 132) this artful dictum: “Durch vieles Lesen lernt man sogar Versuche gut erzählen, die man sehr schlecht angestellt hat” (Lichtenberg Sudelbücher I. 761, J.764). 77 Cf. “Die Rückseite des Mondes – was konnte schlimmer sein für unsere Lust am Weltall und seiner Bereisung als dies, daß sie der Vorderseite so ähnlich war? Für die Wissenschaft ist es immer beruhigend, wenn auf Rückseiten nicht das ganz Andere auftritt. Und es tritt nie auf: drehe ich die Billardkugel, weiß ich bald nicht, was hinten und vorne war. Das ist ein Bild der Theorie. […] Wir leben davon, daß die Rückseiten der Dinge den Vorderseiten zum Verwechseln sind. Fast definiert dies die ‘Lebenswelt’” (Vollzählig. 469). See subch. 11.1.1. 78 Cf. “wo das Wort […] auf viele Wege weist, die eben deshalb doch nicht reell gegangen werden können” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 153; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 132). “Omnipotenz der Imagination” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 153; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 132). “Phantasieren bleibt ein additives Verfahren” (Sachen 195). “Man kann die ganze Spekulation als bloßes Beiwerk der Beschreibung betrachten” (Sachen 170). On the above, cf. subchs. 2.3 and 5.2.2, herein. 79 As to his (lifelong) focus on detours, see Blumenberg (Sorge 137–140; anthropistically, 137; rhetorically, “Annäher. [2001]” 420). Cf. Heidgen/Koch/Köhler (passim; spec. 9–12, 15–16, 18).

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polysemy—plus a measure of indirection, circumambulating data under scrutiny—are reflected on the page itself, in turns of phrase at the textual surface. For the habitual expression “mit anderen Worten” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 116; trans. dsm) also amounts to a performative statement of method: ‘ever, and again, in (and with) other words’.80 It is not only matters as might be else. Speaking of “tendencies on approach” in one context (Lesbarkeit 162; trans. dsm), Blumenberg asserts in another that his focus is on “approximating”—“not [o]n identifying” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 151; trans. dsm).81 When glossing the term “‘nahegebracht’” in relation to attentiveness and description, he remarks: The wariness [with respect to using] the expression ‘nearness’ signals the hesitation as regards speaking of a ‘method’ that [would] denote the point of departure and endpoint of a path [taken] in pursuit of the case. Proximity is produced by way of approximation, which consists in the intensification of attentiveness[;] and which constitutes the asymptotic procedure of [a] description always susceptible of [receiving] further refinement. (Sachen 184; trans. dsm)82

While leading to a multiplication and concurrence of perspectives taken in sequence, the mode itself is focused, intense even: “description is a matter of close scrutiny, of attentiveness, of concentration” (Lebenszeit 40; trans. dsm).83 With regard to the particular energy invested in each case, the result will be concave; but a lateralization occurs in the overall outlook—which is decidedly pluralized, infinitized; and emphatic of significative simultaneities.84

|| 80 This is no œuvre endorsing a mono-lógos. “Mit anderen Worten” (Schiffbruch 82) might be seen as a mise en abyme of Blumenberg’s écriture; likewise poly-perspectivity (in utramque partem vel in plures): “Das ist die eine Seite: […]. Die andere Seite ist” (Lesbarkeit 384). Thereto—incl. a copia of further loci—cf. subchs. 8.4, 9.3, spec. 11.1.1, and 11.3.4, herein. 81 “Tendenzen bei Annäherung” (Lesbarkeit 162); “in der Annäherung, sage ich, nicht in der Identifizierung” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 151; also at “Sprachsituation [2001]” 128). See the title “Anthropologische Annäherung an die Aktualität der Rhetorik” (“Annäher. [2001]” passim; “Approccio” passim; “Approach” passim; “Annäher. [2000]” passim; “Annäher. [2012]” passim). As to the aforesaid (incl. further variants), cf. subch. 5.2.2, herein. 82 “In der Vorsicht des Ausdrucks ‘Nähe’ liegt das Zögern, von einer ‘Methode’ zu sprechen, die Ausgangspunkt und Endpunkt eines Weges im Verfolg der Sache bezeichnet. Nähe wird hergestellt durch die Annäherung, die in der Verschärfung der Aufmerksamkeit besteht und die asymptotische Prozedur der immer verfeinerungsfähigen Beschreibung ausmacht”. 83 “Beschreibung ist eine Sache des genauen Hinsehens, der Aufmerksamkeit, der Konzentration”; more literally: “of looking closely” (trans. dsm). 84 Cf. “Daher ist ein Zeitalter dem Genuß durch Wahrnehmung ungünstig, in welchem die Konkurrenz um die Zuwendung disponibler Wahrnehmung mit der Steigerung von Reizen statt mit der Verfeinerung von Aufmerksamkeit ausgetragen wird” (Sachen 184).

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Beschreibung is ‘limitless labor’.85 Rather than arriving at some ultimate télos, it proceeds steadily, in the interest of (supposed, apparent, factual) phainómena. The main differences with respect to Husserl’s approach will be that the present philosopher targets textual records also; that he abstains from canceling out humankind and history; that he does not ‘reduce’ the lifeforms contingently enacting said perceiving—nor the diachronicities, simultaneities, and polysemies of such observing as has already come to pass.86 Even so, the impact of the arch-Phenomenologist’s theoretical praxis can hardly be overestimated. Blumenberg’s noetic paths plainly take their bearings from that tireless predecessor. Qua crafted form of polysemy, the tool of ‘free variation’ will be of special significance. Withal, Husserl’s infinite, meticulously descriptive labor—proceeding plus ultra—is downright vital to Blumenberg’s own mode. It will not end until its carrier does; mayhap not even then. Description is the method—in scholarly and writerly respects. He develops, unfolds an issue in its varied, diverse facets; like Ulysses (or Homer), digresses, ‘discursifies’, walks another detour—while already engaged in one, or several. Said process takes place from a certain remove. Keeping contingency at bay, it is simultaneously an actio per distans—both central to the philosopher’s stance.87 Blumenberg’s modus operandi marks a stylistic preference. At once, it offers performative evidence of his tendency and thought. The method is the message: to engage in description a professional statement—and of purpose.88 Approaching manifold topics poly-perspectivally is a process of limitless labor. Whereas definitions aim at an appearance of the finite—of delimitation, finalization, termination—descriptivity can afford to remain impartial, endless, open in terms of its results; is amenable to, receptive of, elaboration, variation refinement.89 The distinct character of Blumenberg’s écriture—its accent on the provisional, tentative, makeshift, contingent—is not a stylistic effect only. Said qualities mark his way of proceeding, working—stressing the labor involved.

|| 85 As to Husserl’s references to—and practice of—‘unendliche Arbeit’, see Blumenberg (zur Technik 193; Lebenswelt 214, 214n.). For further loci, cf. subch. 5.2.2, herein. 86 With respect to Phenomenology’s dreaded ‘arch-enemies’ (“Psychologismus, Historismus, Relativismus”, “Anthropologismus”), see Blumenberg (Verführbarkeit 137); Marquard (Skepsis 59), who adds “Soziologismus” (Glück 132). Cf. Flasch (194); Zambon (Nachleuchten 21). By and large, Lübbe sees “Historie als Medium einer Kontingenzerfahrungskultur” (“Identität” 658). 87 As to actio per distans, cf. Blumenberg (Beschreibung 508; 598–600; 604; 631; 634; passim). 88 See Schaeffer’s indispensable observations (“Literary Studies” 271; 273; 276; 282; passim). 89 Cf. Amslinger’s felicitous formula: “undefinierbar […] unendlich beschreibbar” (196).

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5.1.3 Approaching Contingency by Way of Impartial Arts Philosophie […] ist ein elementarer Akt der Aufmerksamkeit[.] —Blumenberg (Realität 15) Aufmerksamkeit ist bewirkbar. —Blumenberg (Sachen 70)90

Refunctionalizing McLuhan’s slogan, it might be said that ‘the method is the message’. A deliberate—scholarly, theoretical—approach may be taken as a declaration in its own right, accentuating the very ‘pathfulness’ of writing; the diversity and processuality of description. With reference to Husserl’s lifelong praxis of ‘limitless labor’, Blumenberg remarks: “What is to be described comes to the fore once one has begun describing” (Sachen 173; trans. dsm).91 The philosopher himself is someone “who draws attention” to a case at hand, precisely “by means of description” (Sachen 184; trans. dsm); and “one, who wishes to do nothing else than simply describe” (Lebenszeit 31; trans. dsm).92 Zu den Sachen und zurück includes a section entitled “Auffallen und Aufmerken” (Sachen 182–206; here 182). It may yield—be seen or taken as— Blumenberg’s statement of method par excellence. Using a metonymic process of indirection within an expressly (meta-)performative paragraph, he states: It may conduce to moving forward to initially bypass the dilemma[,] and to speak of the related case [or: fact] that the function of description – which is taking place here[,] now [sc. as one is reading] – solely consists in drawing attention to something, which has been observed, and which may therefore be perceived [once more, in general]. (Sachen 182–183; trans. dsm; see 184)93

|| 90 “Philosophy […] is an elemental act of attention” (Realität 15; trans. dsm). “Attention may be effected” (Sachen 70; trans. dsm). 91 “Was zu beschreiben ist, stellt sich heraus, wenn man zu beschreiben begonnen hat”—with respect to Husserl’s “maßlosen methodischen Erörterungen”. Cf. subch. 5.2 (its onset; 5.2.2). 92 “der durch Beschreibung aufmerksam macht” (Sachen 184); “einer, der nichts anderes als schlichtweg beschreiben will” (Lebenszeit 31). Alford’s relevant study tentatively indicates a nexus with Husserl’s Phenomenology (see Poetic Attention 5; 10; 16; 33; 239; 280n.; 321n.– 322n.; also “Desire” 8n.). Quite apart from its professed attempts at a critical vocabulary or novel terminologies (cf. e.g. Poetic Attention 5–6; 22; passim), the eloquent chic of its lip service to ‘noninstrumentality’ (Poetic Attention 8), and its trying to ‘exceptionalize’ the attention due (to) a particular genre (e.g. at Poetic Attention 14–15), the—etymologico-literally—egregious quality of Alford’s book lies in the ostensively unassuming feat of walking its talk. 93 “Es mag voranhelfen, das Dilemma zunächst zu umgehen und von dem benachbarten Sachverhalt zu sprechen, daß die Funktion der Beschreibung – die eben gerade stattfindet –

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Discursiveness—Blumenberg’s emphatic ‘Umweghaftigkeit’—is a performative articulation of his philosophy. The focus is on a “refinement of attentiveness”, particularly with a view to the “description of phenomena” (Sachen 184; trans. dsm).94 Withal, he logs that—at least de re—said nexus obtains in “philosophy”, in “all descriptive and hermeneutic disciplines”, such as “literary studies, the study of art, even history” (Sachen 190; trans. dsm; with 189).95 This marks a decided declaration of independence on Blumenberg’s part: Attentiveness is downright a form of freedom. It signifies being able to dispose of [one’s] capacity for perception in terms of [the latter’s] intensity, [and] its targeted deployment of energy. (Sachen 183; trans. dsm)96

Hence descriptivity might equally be an exercise of liberty. Even so, Blumenberg suggests that—as to the economy of effort and effect— a sort of ‘iceberg principle’ holds sway.97 The ratio of concentrative energy to the limning yield may seem lopsided—‘it being easy to overlook the measure of

|| allein darin besteht, auf etwas, was gesehen worden ist und folglich gesehen werden kann, aufmerksam zu machen”. 94 “Verfeinerung von Aufmerksamkeit”; “Beschreibung von Phänomenen”. Cf. “Aufmerksamkeit als Thema der Philosophie, als Aufgabe der Beschreibung” (Sachen 189). “Husserls Ordnungsruf Zu den Sachen! ist ein Appell an Aufmerksamkeit” (Sachen 191). “Dies muß ‘gemacht’ werden. Aufmerksammachen ist die Formel für das, was wesentlich philosophisch – aber auch in anderen deskriptiven Disziplinen – geleistet werden kann” (Sachen 183). Thereto—incl. further loci—see the onset of 5.2; as well as subch. 5.2.2, herein. 95 Plus context: “Philosophie [‘ist’] die reine Ausprägung einer jener Disziplinen, die auch unter dem Vorwand höherer und höchster Ansprüche schließlich ‘nur’ der Steigerung und Schärfung von Aufmerksamkeit dienstbar sind. Dazu sind alle beschreibenden und hermeneutischen Disziplinen zu zählen: die Literaturwissenschaft, die Kunstwissenschaft, sogar die Historie” (Sachen 190; trans. dsm). 96 “Aufmerksamkeit ist geradezu eine Form von Freiheit. Sie ist die Fähigkeit der Verfügung über das Wahrnehmungsvermögen hinsichtlich seiner Intensität, seines gezielten Aufgebots an Energie”. Cf. the anti-didacticist context (Sachen 183); discussed en détail in subch. 5.2.2. 97 Recycling a preferred metaphor of his (cf. e.g. Quellen 203–269). Hermeneutically inclined, a philosopher’s main concern might be a recipient’s (potential) inattentiveness to the latencies. A poet may wish to focus on the artfulness involved: “If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about[,] he may omit things […] he knows[;] and the reader […] will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an ice-berg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. A writer who omits things because he does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing” (Hemingway 165). Applied to the aforestated: while descriptions appear at textual surfaces, the energy, attention invested may tend to remain latent—even if implied in, extrapolated from, the sheer extent of the former (as in Husserl’s case spec.). See the n. below; plus subch. 11.3, herein.

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attentiveness’ required, ‘invested into descriptive procedures’ (see Lebenswelt 172).98 In this view, Beschreibungen are the visible, legible (potentially effectual) remainder of a—soon but latently, implicitly present—effort of attentiveness. In a declarative preface to Die Lesbarkeit der Welt, Blumenberg defends the contingency, plurality, diachronicity, particularity, rhetoricity of assumptions, “views”, observations (“Ansichten”), against the absolutism of essentialized “insights” (“Einsichten”); and asserts a Skeptical epoché—a healthy ‘hesitancy’ and sober tentativeness—“in the foyer of insights”: expressly, ‘in order to do justice to possible views and give opinions their due’ (Lesbarkeit preface in the frontmatter, no pagination; trans. dsm).99 This ties in with the concluding paragraphs of said book on ‘readability’— an emphatic statement of purpose on Blumenberg’s part: Before the naïveté [‘Einfalt’, literally: ‘the onefoldness’] of prescription[,] the diversity [‘Vielfalt’, ‘the manifoldness’] of description loses its specific value, on which only a wayward metaphoricity insists: that of affluence [sc. copia], power of expression [or eloquence], language and [the] book. […] Theory breaks down behind itself the vivid aideraison, whichever service it may have rendered to designing the [theoretical] model, as soon as it [sc. theory] has advanced in analytical and functional terms. […] Science [‘Wissenschaft’] unavoidably destroys the fund of its justifications […]. Even so […]: what men have ever thought is noteworthy; to read it, where it may be rendered readable, [is] an act of diachronic ‘solidarity’. (Lesbarkeit 408–409; trans. dsm)100

|| 98 “Deskriptive Verfahren lassen das Maß an Voraussetzungen der Aufmerksamkeit, das in ihnen investiert ist, leicht übersehen” (Lebenswelt 172); the above offers a rewording. 99 With context: “Geht es dann noch um Wesentliches? Auf die Gefahr hin, Anstoß zu erregen, muß auch [da]bei[…] zurückgefragt werden: für wen? […] nicht nur […] Einsichten sind wesentlich, weil sie es bleiben könnten, […] auch […] Ansichten sind es, obwohl sie es nicht bleiben mögen. Der Mensch ist ein Wesen der Ansichten mindestens ebenso, wie er eines der Einsichten sein oder werden mag. Wo er eine Welt hat oder sich gibt, hat er sich mit ‘Weltansicht’ begnügt und ‘Welteinsicht’ auch ohne Skepsis nicht in Aussicht. Erforschung von Metaphern hält inne im Vorfeld der Einsichten, um den Ansichten ihr Recht widerfahren zu lassen” (Lesbarkeit no pag., fm, preface, equivalent to iii). The segment’s rhetorical bent is condensed into the focal query “für wen?”—‘cui bono’. This accent decidedly colors Marquard’s concluding citation (or sermocinatio) in his memorial address (“Entlastung [1998]” XXV). 100 “Vor der Einfalt der Präskription verliert die Vielfalt der Deskription ihren Eigenwert, auf dem nur eine widerspenstige Metaphorik besteht: die von Reichtum, Ausdruckskraft, Schatz, Sprache und Buch. […] Die Theorie bricht die Eselsbrücke der Veranschaulichung, welchen Dienst immer sie bei der Modellbildung geleistet haben mag, hinter sich ab, sobald sie analytisch und funktional vorangekommen ist. […] Wissenschaft zerstört unausweichlich den Fundus ihrer Rechtfertigungen […]. Aber […]: Denkwürdig ist, was Menschen je gedacht haben; es zu lesen, wo es lesbar gemacht werden kann, ein Akt von ‘Solidarität’ über die Zeit” (Lesbarkeit 408–409; cf. “Cassirers gedenkend” 170–172; and subch. 11.1.2, herein). Very

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Continually fed by a respective present, the past is replete with contingencies of all sorts and kinds. It amounts to a bottomless fund of the haphazard: fortuitous deeds, chance encounters, accidental inventions, (in)felicitous coincidences, casual disasters, flukes of mind and genes, strokes of particular and global (bad) luck. Thoughts and words have been retained inadvertently. Physical and cultural remains are unearthed or uncovered unexpectedly. Works happen to be lost or found en route. Artifacts, manuscripts are submerged in—or just so resurface from—the ceaseless flood of time. Téchnai try to rule. Týche does. The world as known to humankind is a realm of contingency. While there appear to be natural laws and orders, they remain partial—of ‘sectoral’ significance.101 As far as is assessable in fact and hindsight, nothing seems safe from chance. Mayhap, matter as such is eternal; its forms surely are not. This comprises those imposed by the animal in question; and likely a fortiori, seeing that this is—quasi naturally—where its foci and interests lie.102 All efforts at finding some universal formula have proven to be of temporary validity only (if that). In this respect and effect, there appears to be no particular difference between metaphysical, (onto)logical, strictly scientific speculations.

|| literally, the partly idiomatic phrase “Eselsbrücke der Veranschaulichung” would trans. into “donkey’s bridge of vivid perception” (sc. a makeshift, auxiliary one); hence the continued imagery of ‘breaking (it) down’ (trans. dsm). With similar imagery, Rorty refers to “a ladder which […] can eventually be thrown away” (relativism 118). Bubner logs the link between a ‘reliance’ on “the methodical scaffolding” and a growing obliviousness as to the “foundations” (Dialektik 93; trans. dsm). Cf. Nietzsche’s linguistico-scientific refunctionalization of the tale concerning the Tower of Babel (“Wahrheit [KSA 1]” 886, §2). As to the aforesaid, Blumenberg: “Eindeutigkeit nur das […], was übrigbleibt” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 154; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 134). He stresses the “elementare[…] Obligation, Menschliches nicht verloren zu geben” (Wirklichkeiten 170; cf. 171–172). Tying in with Breuer’s expedient formula, one might describe the latter as a decided declaration and defense ‘of the performatory character of all cultural products’ (“des Leistungscharakters aller […] Produkte der Kultur”, Melancholie 20). 101 As to the latter, see Küpper (Discursive 223; 254n.; 263; 274–275). 102 Küpper remarks that “‘art’ (especially lit[erature]) relates to contingency in three different ways: art qua compensation of chaos ([that] of reality) by virtue of aesthet[ic] form (which does not remove the chaos, but may make it bearable)—the best example would be Boccaccio[,] or else Montaigne [(see “Ordnung” 205–210)][;] art qua ‘exposure’ of the world’s (of reality’s) contingency, a[nd] thus as a kind of asymmetrical negation of all ideologies, religions, but also philosoph[ical] systems[;] art[,] a[nd the] reception of art[,] as indicating[, or] enabling the experience of[,] contingency—in the reception(s) of different recipients, but also of the same recipients (at different times), it becomes possible to experience [just] how non-necessary this or that interpretation of a sequence of symbolical signs [actually] is” (n. to the ms. of the present study; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm).

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Such deductive manners will inevitably founder at the sheer contingency of matter. The latter entails proceeding epagogically: from the peculiar and random cases at hand; from the whims of minds, the vagaries of hearts; from the variability of views, the volatility of notions, the fickleness of opinions, the casualness of facts, the capriciousness of feats; from the diversity of theories, the mutability of tendencies, the miscellany of facets and influences; from the multiplicity of beliefs, the plurality of mores and bearings. As far as is assessable by a human cerebrum, there is no end to it. Yet one is free to describe what has (or might have) happened; what is chancing; what may well befall. Proceeding inductively marks a pragmatic reply to contingency.

5.2 Definitionous. Blumenberg’s Countervailing ‘Art of Description’ ἐν ὁδῷ μὴ σπεύδειν. —Chilon (as per D. Laertius Lives I. 72, I.70) Aber eben allmählich. Nicht mit einem Schlag und nie definitiv. —Sommer (Evidenz 292)103 Dies wird eine Methodenfrage. —Blumenberg (as recorded by Traute Marquard 308)104

Blumenberg refers to “the art of description” (“Beschreibungskunst”, Goethe 74; trans. dsm)—a way with words as may well apply to the philosopher himself.105

|| 103 “But precisely by degrees [or: ‘gradually’, ‘step by step’]. Not at one stroke and never definitively” (trans. dsm). See also Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 235; Sammeln 57–58). 104 “This will be a question of method” (trans. dsm). Cf. “Die Reflexion auf das Verhältnis des Denkens zur Sache nimmt mit […] der Neuzeit eine einzigartige Intensität an” (“Methode” 134). “Nachgehen ist in der ursprünglichen Bedeutung des Wortes ‘Methode’ erfaßt. Insofern die Wissenschaft […] ‘auf dem Wege’ ist […] ist sie selbst ihrem genuinen Sinn nach ‘Methode’. […] sie ist Organon” (“Methode” 133; cf. 134). Perusing this article is indispensable for the present endeavor. See Flasch: “Dieser erste gedruckte Text des Dozenten Blumenberg ist ein kostbares Stück streng konzipierter philosophischer Prosa. Er stellt philosophische Grundbegriffe vor, die die des Autors bleiben werden” (275; with 283; 275–285, generally). 105 Cf. “Wittgenstein […] ist […] ein Meister des deskriptiven Verfahrens und seine ‘Analyse’ am ehesten die anschaulicher Sachverhalte” (Phänomen. 320; “Wittgenstein beschreibt”, Sorge 52); with spec. emph. on that performative formula: “am ehesten”. See various expressions referring to description (e.g. at Lebenszeit 23; 257; Beschreibung 146; Quellen 147; 186; Goethe 133; zur Literatur 93; Phänomen. 31; 153; 164; 168; 183; 199; 316; 320; 322; 339; 341; 374; 380; 392; 411; 461). Cf. Fellmann (“Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 227; 248; 254).

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For that he describes is beyond question. Nor is his limning craftsmanship likely ever to have been disputed in all probity.106 Hence the choice of approach might be motivated (5.2.1); Blumenberg’s virtuoso performance described, by recourse to a statement of purpose qua mise en abyme de la méthode (5.2.2). The present subchapter focuses primarily on two posthumous volumes edited by Sommer on the philosopher’s behalf: Zu den Sachen und zurück, along with Beschreibung des Menschen. The latter is a counter statement, at least by implication (to be provisionally elicited in 5.2.1).107 Yet the former is also of manifold significance, and may well serve the purpose of this descriptively performative prelude (qua anticipative distillate of 5.2.2). ‘Ad res, and back’—likely ‘from’ them (or there). The longest segment by far is entitled “Von den Sachen zurück” (Sachen 63–121). Then again, another asks: ‘ad res, from where’ (“Zu den Sachen – von wo her?”, Sachen 152–181). Withal, the title’s elliptico-brachylogic polyvalence or latencies may imply: ‘back to the same’; whence one would still—or once more—not be ‘with’ them.108 If not ‘from’, then ‘back to what, where’; ‘to the sources’, perchance: ad res qua fontes—a Humanistic countercurrent to Husserl, and his Cartesianisms.109

|| 106 Blumenberg describes decidedly, as the altered caption of his posthumous opus magnum shows. Sommer’s ed. diligence retains the source title, and its deliberate refunctionalization: “‘‘Beschreibung des Menschen’ ersetzt den Titel ‘Phänomenologische Anthropologie’’, hat sich […] Blumenberg […] notiert” (“Nachwort [2006]” 897). See the onset of ch. 5.1; and 5.2.1, herein. 107 The same may be said of another field, wherein Blumenberg toiled for life: “Wenn es so etwas wie eine Metaphorologie geben darf und soll, so gegen die traditionelle Mißachtung alles Rhetorischen durch die Philosophie” (Sachen 190). As to “[a] descriptive anthropology”, he notes: “its theme is primarily describability [‘Beschreibbarkeit’] itself” (Selbstverständnis [1997] 139–140; trans. dsm; with “Annäher. [2001]” 410)—not being yet another ‘-logy’. Cf. “Die Gefahr ideologischer Wesenszuschreibungen des Menschen vermeidet Blumenberg[…], indem […] [er] sich auf tentative Beschreibungen beschränkt”: “statt einer Essentialisierung des Menschen […] dessen offene Beschreibung” (Nicholls/Heidenreich “Nachwort” 100). Sommer’s ensuing observation is of general validity: many a “thesis loses its harmlessness, once one considers what it is formulated against” (Zeitbewußtsein 50, infinitized; trans. dsm). Cf. subchs. 11.1.3, 11.2.2, herein. Flasch logs: “Blumenbergs Legitimität der Neuzeit erregte 1966 ungewöhnliches Aufsehen. Der Titel versprach eine Kampfschrift” (549)—the latter term being most infelicitous. 108 Cf. “Den phänomenologischen Ordnungsruf, zu den Sachen selbst zurückzukehren oder allererst zu gehen” (Phänomen. 344; as well as “Über den Rand” 17); “endlich zu den Sachen” (Phänomen. 263); “ein sachzugewandtes Denken” (“sprachliche Wirklichkeit” 431; with 430). “Zu den Sachen! ist der Programmslogan der frühesten Phänomenologie, selbst ein rhetorisches Stück” (Verführbarkeit 92; see Möller “Das distanzierte Leben” 5). 109 Nor would it typically be a matter of course to ask “what […] ‘the sake itself’” would “be” in a given “case” (Wirklichkeiten 9; infinitized; trans. dsm; cf. 38; Lebenswelt 185; 212). On those two “‘Ordnungsrufe’”, see Blumenberg (Quellen 9–10; with 25; Verführbarkeit 86–87); also as to

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Or indeed and downright ‘away from the res’—‘back to oneself’ even; a bent Blumenberg imputes to the arch-Phenomenologist (with some plausibility): “in Husserl, ‘self-analysis’ is the converging point of all descriptions” (Sachen 26; trans. dsm); and this quite simply due to the Cartesian cogito’s seemingly being presupposed as always already ‘accompanying thought’ (to put it in quasi Kantian terms); and be it tacitly (a circle to be expected).110 On that score, Blumenberg writes (inter alia): “presumptively[,] the unity of the subject is given in every phenomenological act of [(noetically) visuo-vivid] perception [‘Anschauungsakt’]. Yet descriptively[,] this is an evasion [‘Ausflucht’]” (Sachen 42; trans. dsm).111 The latter noun is likely to imply that || the rhetorical quality of the “Mahnruf […] ‘ad res’, ‘zur Sache und zu den Sachen!’” (“Annäher. [2001]” 430; cf. Beschreibung 318). The bottom line being: “der alte Ordnungsruf: res, non verba! ist unerledigt und bleibt es” (Lebensthemen 138; see “Annäher. [2001]” 429; Phänomen. 508; Sachen 347)—unless one shifts the comma. Cf. Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 220–221). 110 With this nuance—“ein gravierender Unterschied: Bei Freud hatte die ‘Selbstanalyse’ am Anfang gestanden […]; bei Husserl ist [s]ie […] der Konvergenzpunkt aller Beschreibungen” (Sachen 26)—the latter being the de dicto. For the Cartesian ‘cogito’ is presupposed at any rate— with emph. on the ‘positing’ involved (cf. Sachen 37; “Husserls cartesischen Absolutismus des selbstgewissen Ich”, Beschreibung 199; with 245; 280; Phänomen. 144; also Quellen 186). See Kant (KrV 1. 136–138, I.i.2.2., §16, B132–136); Bubner (Antike Themen 107–108); Sommer (Selbsterhalt. 157–158; 200; cf. 95; here spec. “Zufall” 102–103; also Übergang 109; 174; Zeitbewußtsein 205, as to Husserl’s “Selbstbeschreibungen”; plus 206; Evidenz 184; incl. for Mach’s “‘ständige Selbstanalyse’”, 295). On deduction being central to Phenomenology, see Blumenberg (Sachen 203–204); and here spec. the fact that Husserl “‘deduced’ the necessity of the world for the absolute Subjectivity qua transcendental Intersubjectivity”—glossed as a “piece of ontological rhetoric” (Sachen 29; trans. dsm) by the former; while implying his own “impavidity […] as to the inevitability of rhetoric” (Sachen 30; trans. dsm). 111 “präsumtiv ist die Einheit des Subjekts in jedem phänomenologischen Anschauungsakt gegeben. Aber deskriptiv ist das eine Ausflucht”. See the context; and this affine passage: “Was durch Anschauung endgültig beschreibbar geworden und beschrieben sein sollte, gerät immer wieder unter die Revision desselben Zuschauers” (Sachen 35; cf. “identisches […] Subjekt”). Except, he (she, it) is never ‘the same’ (let alone ‘identical’). Blumenberg further stresses the “incessancy of labor” involved in “Description”; the latter as the “most unsuspicious […] form of remembering”; “Husserl’s Nachlaß as the singular document” thereof; and that “Beschreibung is not ‘the res itself’, only the recipe therefor – an aide-memoire of remembrance for the restitution of [(virtually) visuo-vivid] perception” (Sachen 35; trans. dsm). The German, with context: “Nichts ist reparaturbedürftiger als die Erinnerung, und dafür gibt es Unablässigkeit der Arbeit. Daß da der ‘Haken’ der Phänomenologie liegt, ergibt sich aus ihrer Angewiesenheit auf eine Form der Erinnerung, die am unverdächtigsten erscheint: auf die Deskription. Husserls Nachlaß ist das einzigartige Dokument dieser Erinnerung durch Beschreibung für ein […] ‘unbeteiligtes’ Subjekt. Was durch Anschauung endgültig beschreibbar geworden und beschrieben sein sollte, gerät immer wieder unter […] Revision[.] […] Der Haken ist, daß auch die Beschreibung nicht ‘die Sache selbst’ ist, nur das Rezept für

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(such and similar) Cartesianisms actually ‘take flight from the issue’.112 ‘Zu den Sachen’ may well be a form of otherwiseness. Withal, a ‘repeated return ad res’ will—very literally—be ‘called for’: there seems to be something akin to philosophical gaveling (if en passant). Each in their way, both Husserl and Blumenberg subscribe to an iteratively needful “Ordnungsruf” (Sachen 191; Wirklichkeiten 9; Lebenswelt 185).113 Needless to say,

|| diese – eine Eselsbrücke der Erinnerung zur Restitution von Anschauung” (Sachen 35). Cf. the figurative, literalized use of said ‘pontine’ metaphor in a significative statement of method (Lesbarkeit 408–409; with “Einspruch” 182); also qtd. in subchs. 5.1.3 and 11.1.3, herein. 112 Given Blumenberg’s own accent on the layers of time involved in the process of describing (see Sachen 35, as cited above), his ensuing assertion appears to refute itself: “Protokolle von Beschreibungen sind nicht dialogisch” (Sachen 38). Withal: “Description in the form of a book” (Sachen 27; trans. dsm) is ever mediate(d), always indirect; and certainly not only if one happens to be in the habit of having—‘dictaphonically’ (see “Teufel” N3; with Marquard “Laudatio” 53; “Entlastung [1998]” XVIII; XXIV)—voiced them (Platonically) on the eve prior to receiving a visual (typewritten) version for (Aristotelian) review the next day. Cf. subch. 11.2.2. See Sommer on the impossibility of “a description without representation” (Evidenz 292; trans. dsm; plus 293). Contrast his overstressing Blumenberg’s supposed ‘non-dialogicity’ (“Zu keiner Zeit” 79–81). The value judgment is contingent upon a (more or less) subcutaneous Idealism. For the philosopher is in conversation indeed: with his diverse selves, modes, media—and prior minds. Generally in this respect, see Machiavelli (“Letters” 929, §137, letter of Dec 10, 1513 to Vettori; with Lettere 304, §140; also in: Dieci lettere private 61, II). Cf. Ong (125–126). 113 “call to order” (trans. dsm). In this discipline, it marks one for attentiveness, above all: “Husserls Ordnungsruf Zu den Sachen! ist ein Appell an Aufmerksamkeit” (Sachen 191); “bei der Sache zu bleiben, nicht nur und erst, zu den Sachen zu kommen” (Phänomen. 136). Cf. “der Ordnungsruf […] Husserls ‘Zu den Sachen selbst!’” (Wirklichkeiten 9; with “Annäher. [2001]” 430; Lebenswelt 185; Beschreibung 153; 223; 264; 318; Phänomen. 136; 344; Realität 12; 14; 38– 39). On said formula’s rhetoricity: “So begibt man sich in die spezifisch rhetorische Situation, sich einen Mahnruf deshalb zu sichern, um ihn nicht den anderen zu überlassen: ‘ad res’, ‘zur Sache und zu den Sachen!’ Es ist Rhetorik, anderen die Voraussetzung zu suggerieren, es sei nötig, wieder oder überhaupt erst zu denken und zu handeln” (“Annäher. [2001]” 430). “Die Geschichte im Wandel ihres Wirklichkeitsverständnisses läßt sich […] am Indiz des Vorwurfs erfassen, es seien bis dahin bloße Worte gemacht worden und die Verführung der Sprache habe gesiegt[;] […] demzufolge wird die Notwendigkeit betont und der Aufruf formuliert, nun endlich ‘zu den Sachen selbst’ zu kommen. Die Unterscheidung von Worten und Fakten, ta epē und ta pragmata, verba und res, ist […] so alt wie die Geschichte der Philosophie, […] so alt wie die für uns nachweisbare Geschichte der geschichtlichen Erfahrung selbst” (Realität 11). Cf. Phenomenology’s downright “uralte[…] Rhetorik, deren sie sich in ihrer programmatischen Selbstdarstellung bediente und deren Inbegriff in der Formel des Ordnungsrufes lag: Zu den Sachen selbst!” (Beschreibung 318); “der Ruf ‘Zu den Sachen!’ (ad res) […] bindet sich an die Disjunktion von Sachen und Worten, Wirklichkeit und bloßer Rede, Realismus und Rhetorik” (Quellen 9). Ultimately: “Husserls Rhetorik ist idealistisch; und darin geht sie weiter, als es ‘die Sachen’ erfordern” (Lebenszeit 46). Cf. Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 232–235; with 220–221).

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the latter includes mustering and marshaling the strengths of one’s discipline: any ‘call to order’ also marks one ‘to arms’.114 The artful philosopher will likely have allowed for the contingency of said polysemies; for such or similar latencies; and the above hints and suggestions were hardly exhaustive.115 Practicing epoché, it might seem permissible to preserve their equipoise—at least for the time being.116 A given dictum is also a particular datum—wherefrom to proceed, which to limn, and sound for its depths (see the application in 5.2.2). As heuristicotentatively performed in the present incipit, the very act of describing potential implications latent in such and similar sententiae may be indicative of the method to be elucidated (in 5.2.1). For the (indirect) path taken pertains—or amounts—to the message (see the summa in 5.2.3). Procedural caveats would seem aptly placed in a preamble. To decidedly sidestep misguidedness, wary attentiveness—regarding how a particular ‘modus ad res’ represents itself—will ever be called for; and especially with respect to this philosopher. Like Aristotle, Blumenberg surely did not forget or forego questioning his own method also—a form of due process that may appear to pose an insurmountable obstacle to thoroughly ideologized proclivities.117 Consequently, the decisive query will be: how exactly might one arrive at— perchance even attain to—the respective, the significative case (issue, matter, ‘sake’); and do justice to it (the result being Sachlichkeit).118 A possible answer— one among many—may well be: ‘by way and virtue of description’.

|| 114 Generally—but also as applied to the nexus of contingency and induction—see Aristotle (“Post. An.” 258–259, 100a, II.xix; with 258n.; and Trimpi Muses 91, 91n.–92n.). 115 Cf. subch. 5.1.1. In an affine context, Sommer refers to “artful formulae” with a “subtle sense behind [the scenes, ulteriorly: ‘Hintersinn’]” (Zeitbewußtsein 233; trans. dsm). 116 On ‘isosthéneia’, see Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrhonism 18, I.xii.26); Küpper (“Recusatio der Moderne” 406n.; 410n.; 416, 416n.); Pawlita (111–112, 111n.; 134). 117 Writing to Blumenberg, J. Ritter lauds “die kritische Überprüfung des eigenen Denkens” (qtd. in: Amslinger 196; letter of Sept 16, 1964, at DLA Marbach, 197n.). Cf. “Als Arbeitsformel gelte für ihn: Reflexionen über das, was wir eigentlich tun müßten, verschaffen Klarheit über das, was wir selber tun” (Blumenberg, as per Braun 337; exemplarily in: “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 90–91)—a remark unimaginable from certain quarters (whom it is not well to name). The parati may seek attentive remedies in Sommer’s section “Gegen das Übersehen: Disziplin und Gründlichkeit” (Suchen 146–153; here 146; as to the care requisite: Übergang 16). See spec. the untimely (not to say abysmal) notion that “discipline” might conduce to “freedom” (Suchen 150; trans. dsm). Blumenberg stresses the epiphenomenal (or side-effectual) “Training” (Phänomen. 230). Likewise Sommer (“üben”, Zeitbewußtsein 232; with Suchen 152–153). 118 Asmuth describes this “Schlüsselbegriff”; its function qua “[v]on eher forderndem als beschreibendem Charakter” (“Sachlichkeit” 369; on Phenomenology: 385). In line therewith

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Yet this is not only (let alone simply) a mediate access—as it could seem prima facie. In keeping with a procedural statement on Blumenberg’s part: “Was zu beschreiben ist, stellt sich heraus, wenn man zu beschreiben begonnen hat” (Sachen 173).119 Said sententia might be taken to insinuate—or signify inter alia—that, by way of Beschreibung, matters not only become manifest, but materialize first of all: take shape initially, are constituted to begin with.120 Blumenberg’s descriptive dictum may well mark a counter statement per se (see above, and 5.2.3). More frankly, it would be rhetorically agonal. For ‘philosophy’ routinely professes (else tacitly takes for granted) that its certainties—or verities respectively held to be valid—are always already given, predetermined, predefined, preexisting even. Whence the (typically sole) issue must be a noetic performance of fencing, or positively walling, it in; defining, not to say shackling, it; ultimately, to virtually embalm, and lay it down for all eternity—as a quasi preserved specimen to be mummified in due course (its taxidermico-linguistic make only by default).

|| (and a certain sense), the labor of Beschreibung will be based on a non-descriptive imperative: ‘sakeliness’ itself is a contingent possibility inter alia; like almost anything, it may well be else. See Asmuth on a potential proximity to “Anschaulichkeit” (“Sachlichkeit” 371); to the “aptum” (“Sachlichkeit” 377; with Blumenberg “Annäher. [2001]” 406; 408; Phänomen. 33). Cf. the interlingual affinities of the ensuing: “‘Sache’”, “πρᾶγμα”, “res”, “materia”, “negotium”, “causa”, “chose”, “cosa” (Asmuth “Sachlichkeit” 370). He stresses: “In der klassischen Rhetorik ist ‘Sache’ ([‘πρᾶγμα’], res) ein wichtiger, jedoch sehr allgemeiner und mehrdeutiger Begriff” (“Sachlichkeit” 372). The reading at hand takes Blumenberg to exploit said ‘general, polysemous’ quality (subch. 5.2.1). On virtual, visuo-vivid perception generally, see Asmuth’s historico-taxonomic synopsis, with these ‘semantic variants’, nuances, functions: ‘didactic’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 151–156); ‘non-abstract’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 156–159); ‘metaphoricocomparative’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 159–163); ‘rhetorico-evidential’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 163–168); ‘vivid’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 168–170); ‘non-optical’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 170–172); ‘grammatical’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 172–174); ‘non-imaginary (sc. factual)’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 174–176); ‘(meta-)narrative’ (“Anschaulichkeit” 176–180). While Asmuth focuses on literature, he also refers to Kant (“Anschaulichkeit” 149; 155; 164); spec. Schopenhauer (“Anschaulichkeit” 151; 156–158; 170). One may adduce Husserl’s Phenomenology; and, related thereto, Blumenberg’s ‘phenomenistic’ philosophy qua further field of application (see e.g. Beschreibung 471–895; markedly: “Variationen der Visibilität”, 777–895)—spec. since Asmuth’s ninth variant stresses “Sichtbarkeit” (“Anschaulichkeit” 176–178). Cf. Fellmann: “Beschreibung ist für HUSSERL an Anschaulichkeit gebunden” (“Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 254). See Krauthausen’s rhetorical accent: “Rückführung von Evidenz auf Verfahren”; “Wissen um Evidenzerzeugung”; “Evidenzeffekte […] Evokation […] Strategie” (59; cf. 51–52, 58, 60, passim). 119 A pivotal dictum: “What is to be described comes to the fore once one has begun describing” (trans. dsm). It may be taken to condense the drift of subch. 5.2.1; the yield of 5.2.2. 120 The present incipit being performative in that respect.

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Even should one (for all the respectable or professional reasons) be disinclined to put it in such glaringly Sophistic terms: the general direction of impact is rather unlikely to be inapplicable. Tracing Blumenberg’s characterizing usus, the present endeavor addresses the conditions of possibility precisely of his diverse and detailed descriptions (5.2.1).121 Taking up a notorious Thaletic saw with variation—as the philosopher himself had done—an overall state ‘replete with definitions’ is hypothesized as the theoretical ‘grounding’ (qua fond or ‘field’, in terms of blazoning).122 Therefrom, Blumenberg’s descriptions come into relief as virtual counter statements (5.2.2): contrastively, visuo-vividly; egregious by poise, composure; taking a stand evenhandedly, open-mindedly—in tendency and form.123

|| 121 Cf. “Wir beschreiben etwas, was es für uns gar nicht gäbe, wenn wir nicht noch zu verstehen imstande wären, was dem vorauszugehen hatte” (Legitimität 11; with Sachen 28). 122 On the Thaletic dictum—“alles voll von Göttern” (in a word: ‘divinous’)—see Blumenberg (Arbeit 31; with 32; “Kant” 564; cf. 570; “Die Vieldeutigkeit dieses Wortes ist unübertrefflich”, “Duplik” 440; “Unernst” 442; “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 27; Lachen 11–12; 135–136; Phänomen. 111); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 185n.; with “hypólepsis” 240n.–242n.; 244n.; 249n.; 253n.). At one point, the philosopher is virtually saying what may—de re—be condensed into the phrase ‘all is fraught with concepts (Begriffe)’ (see Arbeit 319). By and large, one will ever be dealing “mit einem neuen Gebrauch einer alten Formel” (Phänomen. 426; infinitized). This is spec. patent where the variation is express. It is possible “abwandelnd [zu] wiederholen […], es sei nun alles voll von Theorien” (Arbeit 185). Mutatis mutandis, cf. Blumenberg’s plausible sermocinatio for Paul—conceivably saying: “alles voll von Gesetzen”; expressly “in Abwandlung jenes dunklen Wortes des Thales” (Arbeit 35). Aristotle is a source for the latter’s (purportedly) declaring: “everything is full of gods [‘πάντα πλήρη θεῶν εἶναι’]” (“de anima” 60–61, 411a, I.v; cf. Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 79, 11A22; plus the variant conveyed by Aëtius, 11A23). Perchance, Paul was in fact ‘intra-monotheisticizing’ said dictum at Eph 3:19, holding out the hope “ἵνα πληρωθῆτε εἰς πᾶν τὸ πλήρωμα τοῦ θεοῦ” (SBLGNT), “ut impleamini in omnem plenitudinem Dei” (Vulgate); “that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God” (KJV); “daß ihr erfüllt werdet mit allerlei Gottesfülle” (LUTH1545). On rhetoric’s diachronically accrued “πλῆθος”, cf. Aristotle (“Refutations” 152, 183b, xxxiv). As to God’s overbearing intrusiveness, see D. Laertius (“πάντα γάρ ἐστιν αὐτοῦ πλήρη”, Lives II. 38–39, VI.37); Nietzsche (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 352, Vorrede.4); Blumenberg (Die nackte Wahrheit 26). Not to mention Lk 1:35, Mt 1:18. 123 Cf. “Simmel […] [‘konnte’] seinen Gegenzug nur in einer entschlossen beschreibenden Stilhaltung des Philosophen finden” (Phänomen. 184)—likely yet another of Blumenberg’s indirectly auto-ethopoetic dicta. The latter’s remark on an entire genre qua counter statement will also be pertinent. “Die Faszination durch die Form des Dialogs darf man nicht gering veranschlagen: sie enthielt den Widerspruch zum Typus der großen scholastischen Traktate, Summen und Kommentare” (Pseudoplatonismen 3). See the above n. on the philosopher’s alternative forms of dialogicity. As to “Wirklichkeitsbegriffe”, he states: “Sie sind immer auch, wenn nicht vorwiegend, Auseinandersetzungen mit vorhergehenden und zeitgenössischen anderen Ausformulierungen” (Realität 42). From a letter to Koselleck, Amslinger cites these

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As a matter of course, the synthesis tendered at the outset of the present endeavor is the provisional product of a heuristico-epagogic path, and duly diligent perusal.124 In the beginning is contingency.

5.2.1 ‘Definitional Essais’: The Human Measure res varia est[.] —Bacon (Novum Organum 118, I.lvi; 170 in Spedding/Ellis/Heath)125 ‘Description of Man’ replaces the title ‘Phenomenological Anthropology’[.] —Blumenberg (cited in: M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 897; trans. dsm) gewisse Formeln, ausgesprochen in Definitionen, hat jeder[;] aber nur die sekundären Denker, die […] nicht Philosophen zu nennen sind, sind mit ihren Definitionen beruhigt, schlagen mit den Wortbegriffen das problematische Telos des Philosophierens tot. —Husserl (Husserliana VI. 512, suppl. XXVIII re §73)126

Too much of the definitional may seem to be at play in the deductive construction of closed and self-contained systems.127 The “Absolutism of Truth” (“Absolutismus der Wahrheit”, “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 27; trans. dsm) peculiar to anything definitive typifies a certain philosophical status quo. It is parried indirectly, with equilibrating effect, by Blumenberg’s inductive, dexterously discursive, plausibly significative, deliberately open, unbounded || significative lines: “[‘]ich habe natürlich meinen heutigen Arbeitsstil definiert gegen die mit diesem Titel [sc. ‘Poetik und Hermeneutik’] und anderen verbundenen Erfahrungen’” (Blumenberg qtd. in: Amslinger 224; letter of Aug 10, 1979, at DLA Marbach, 224n.). 124 Cf. Blumenberg: “Die Anschaulichkeit steht nur deshalb in Verruf des rein erläuternden und erweiternden Moments, weil sie kraft ihrer Zugehörigkeit zur Disziplin der Rhetorik – etwa in Gestalt der Metapher und des Vergleichs – als nachträglich herbeigeholt und daher genetisch entbehrlich erscheint; es ist ein Schein, den der Autor unvermeidlich durch die Umkehrung der Sequenz seiner Darstellung erzeugt” (“Vorbemerkungen” 5; with 4; and spec. Trimpi Muses 299, 299n.–300n.; plus context, 296–305; also 70). 125 Rhetorically, humans count as res. See Scaliger (80, III.i); Asmuth (“Sachlichkeit” 373). 126 “everyone has certain formulae, expressed in definitions[;] but only the secondary [sc. -rate] thinkers, who […] are not to be called philosophers, are at ease with their definitions, strike dead the problematic telos of philosophizing with their verbal [literally: word] concepts” (trans. dsm)—‘making routine use of thought-terminating clichés’. 127 Schaeffer logs a most notorious instance (Art of the Modern Age 157–158). Cf. Starobinski with respect to Valéry (247–248). Schopenhauer describes “Logik” qua “abgeschlossene, für sich bestehende, in sich vollendete, abgerundete und vollkommen sichere Disciplin” (WWV I. 84, I.9). See Blumenberg: “Emanzipation des Systematischen bis hin zu der reinen Schwebe des Positivismus […] bleibt […] ein elementares Thema im Denken der Neuzeit” (“Kosmos” 80).

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and abundant, approximately ‘limitless labor’ of legible description. “Der λόγος ist gesammeltes Gesehenhaben” (“Licht” 161)—dicta are phainómena also.128 Husserl’s ‘-logy’ of the latter not only rigidified into a certain ‘top-down’ schematism eventually—against his basicmost efforts. For this slant may seem to have always already inhered in its mathematico-Cartesian priming, its logicodeductive principles—the Ideas merely adding a certain patency to this state of play.129 With Blumenberg’s accent: “in a descriptive discipline”, “a ‘deduced’ phenomenon” is “prohibited” (Lebenszeit 32; trans. dsm).130 Yet given “its methodical completion”, “[t]he description”—“qua denegation of all deductive [and] systematic noetic modes of performance”—amounts to “the preparation of a new deduction” (Lebenszeit 32; trans. dsm).131 Phenomenology’s stride toward teleologica hardly starts with Husserl’s Krisis.132

|| 128 In a literal (while not idiomatic) rendition: ‘the lógos is a collected having-seen’ (trans. dsm). The philosopher will be punning on the etymological implications: “Das legein […] ist eher die Lese als das Lesen” (M. Sommer Sammeln 386; with 374–375). Blumenberg also cites the context of the Baconian motto given above (cf. “Licht” 167n.); de re, see the telling faceoff between obstinate concepto-philes, and a dauntless defender of description (Gehlen)—as recorded by Klein (330–332). A plethora of indicted ‘absolutisms’ veins Blumenberg’s œuvre (as to the ‘veritable’ one, cf. e.g. “Wirkungspotential [2001]” 350; Rigorismus 11; 13; with A. Meyer “Anmerkungen” 29n.). One may well attend to this Blumenbergian statement of purpose— characteristically made in passing: “sich im Provisorium vor allen definitiven Wahrheiten und Moralen zu arrangieren” (“Annäher. [2001]” 411). 129 See Blumenberg (Phänomen. 144; 259–260; “Über den Rand” 17), who speaks of “Husserl[s] […] lebenslängliche[r] philosophische[r] Abschweifung” (Realität 31). Cf. the former’s remarks on the latter’s ‘methodical systematization’ of the ‘Phenomenological approach (else downright anti-systematic)’ (Sachen 58); with Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 234). A significative sentence on Husserl’s part: “In dieser Weise fortgehend, ergeben sich immer neue deskriptive Probleme der Auslegung, die alle systematisch durchgeführt werden müssen” (Husserliana I. 172, V.61). As to various outlines of said philosophy’s attempt at being thoroughly descriptive—plus criticism of a ‘Phenomeno-logy’ failing to fulfill its self-imposed directive—see Blumenberg (Lebenszeit 28; 31–34; 40; 43; 328; Beschreibung 161; 168–169; Wirklichkeiten 26; 29; Lebenswelt 201; 204). Spec. “Zwar wollte die Phänomenologie zu den Sachen kommen; doch nun zeigt sich, daß eine ihrer Schwierigkeit ist, bei den Sachen zu bleiben. […] der Wunsch des Phänomenologen nach systematischer Einheit seiner Probleme [‘wäre’] der erste in der langen Reihe seiner Verstöße gegen das Prinzip der exklusiven Deskriptivität […][;] einer [sc. ‘Verstoß’], der […] die Phänomenologie genötigt hätte, sich mit der Rolle zu begnügen, eine Philosophie unter Philosophien zu sein. Aber wo hätte es das jemals gegeben” (Sachen 153). Cf. Zambon (“Nachwort [2018]” 512–513). 130 “ein ‘erschlossenes’ Phänomen […] verboten in einer deskriptiven Disziplin”. 131 “Die Deskription als Absage an alle deduktiv-systematischen Leistungsarten des Denkens ist unter Bedingungen ihrer methodischen Vollendung die Vorbereitung einer neuen Deduktion”. See passages with a comparable thrust (e.g. Beschreibung 161; 168–169; but also:

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Apart from a significative section in Zu den Sachen und zurück (see 5.2.2, herein), the pages central to the present subchapter are found in the second segment of Beschreibung des Menschen (specifically Beschreibung 510–518). At its onset, Blumenberg cites a sentence by Scheler: “indefinability appertains to man’s Being” (in: Beschreibung 510; trans. dsm).133 What the former makes thereof is characteristic of his approach more generally. For the—emphatically heuristic (rather than finalistic)—inquiry into the ‘conditions of possibility’ (or sine quibus non) will likely be encountered with respect to any fundamental (philosophical) topic at some point in Blumenberg’s noetico-descriptive process.134 In this case, “how man [is] possible” (at all)—the point being “die Kontingenz des Menschen”, in both utmost and specific respects: “he need not be” (in the first place or any); “and he need not be [precisely] the way he is” (sc.

|| 439–440; Sachen 21; 29; 200–201); spec. Blumenberg’s call to decidedly ‘re- or maintain’ this philosophy’s “performances [‘Leistungen’] at the descriptive plane” (Sachen 200; trans. dsm; on said nexus: Phänomen. 392). The philosopher’s ‘phenomenistic’ approach (see Mayfield “hypólepsis” 238; 242n.; 253n.; with 237n.) abstains from Husserl’s Cartesian- and Platonizing. Blumenberg’s resp. writings may well be taken as his objection to the suffix in ‘Phenomenology’; or to what the latter tends to stand for. Even so, any method ‘proceeding from’, and focusing on, phainómena (“einen von der Sache her geregelten Gedankenzug”, Sachen 57) will be inductive in tendency. Cf. Husserl (Husserliana VI. 50–51, §9.h; 130–131, §34.d, 130n.; also: 270, §73); Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 49–51). Generally, Bacon: “ut homines ad ipsa particularia […] adducamus […] et cum rebus ipsis consuescere incipient” (Novum Organum 98, I.36; 162 in Spedding/Ellis/Heath; with Asmuth “Sachlichkeit” 376). 132 Cf. Blumenberg (Wirklichkeiten 17–18; Lebenswelt 192–193). A significative sentence in this respect—complete with a characteristic anacrusis accentuating contingency (see Wirklichkeiten 46–48; Lebenswelt 220–221): “Die Phänomenologie sieht das anders. Zumindest bis sie sich selber in der Schlußphase zu einer teleologischen Geschichtsphilosophie verwandelt” (Sachen 17). Cf. Husserl (Husserliana VI. 71–74, §15; 273–276, §73; 502–503, suppl. XXVI re §73; 511n., 512–513, suppl. XXVIII re §73). He posits (at least) two interrelated teleologies: an external, temporal or philosophico-historical, (figuratively) ‘horizontal’ one; an internal, intellectually Neo-Platonizing, hence ‘vertical’ one (at Husserliana VI. 502–503, suppl. XXVI re §73). 133 “die Undefinierbarkeit gehört zum Wesen des Menschen”. Cf. “Der Irrtum der bisherigen Lehren vom Menschen besteht darin, daß man zwischen ‘Leben’ und ‘Gott’ noch eine feste Station einschieben wollte, etwas als Wesen Definierbares: den ‘Menschen’. Aber diese Station existiert nicht und gerade die Undefinierbarkeit gehört zum Wesen des Menschen. Er ist nur ein ‘Zwischen’, eine ‘Grenze’, ein ‘Übergang’, ein ‘Gotterscheinen’ im Strome des Lebens und ein ewiges ‘Hinaus’ des Lebens über sich selbst. Damit allein erledigt sich die Definitionsfrage. Ein definierbarer Mensch hätte keine Bedeutung” (Scheler 186). Nietzsche’s sway will be patent. 134 By contrast to ‘Neo-Kantianism’, Blumenberg makes heuristic, inquisitive, provisory use of the formula ‘Bedingung(en) der Möglichkeit’ (Sachen 17; with 11). “Die elementare Frage […] ist, wie überhaupt” (Phänomen. 448; cf. “Methode” 133; “Kosmos” 75; Pseudoplatonismen 16).

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‘just so happens to be’, Beschreibung 511; trans. dsm).135 Said recourse to contingency is expressly functionalized with a view to rendering ‘self-evidences’ problematic—another trait distinguishing this philosopher with Skeptic affinities from a widespread and facile use made of his labor.136 As in any deductive schematism (routinely tagged with the ensuing suffix), ‘anthropo-logy’ proceeds from the idea that it is essential to first ‘de-fine’—‘set certain limits to’—what will be thematic in a given case. This demarcation must then be tested, chiefly for logical consistency. Often, a bent toward dogmatic rigidification appears in the process. A(ny) top-down methodology typically posits its principles thetically—ordinarily (if implicitly) presupposing their a priori status.137 It will then construe the desired phenomena as they ‘ought to be’—a slant that does not, or purports not to, commence with the latter. From the vantage point of those as may prefer observing said modus operandi from a noetically sanitary distance, the question will remain virulent, whether the corresponding ‘-logy’ actually arrives at ‘sakeliness’ in this manner; and if it might do so at all (see above).138 In a contingent world, such ‘successes’ could indeed occur partially, in the plural, by and along the way: trouvailles are conceivable—precisely since chance can never be excluded a priori. Structurally, (discourse) historically, said set of issues seems as old as (Western) philosophy itself.139 In his Analytica Posteriora, Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle describes epagogé as the habitual method.140 At the latter’s onset, he || 135 “wie der Mensch möglich sei”; “die Kontingenz des Menschen”; “er muß nicht sein und er muß nicht so sein, wie er ist”. For a methodical recourse to contingency (qua overall noetic habitus) in Blumenberg, see e.g. “Das muß so nicht sein” (Sachen 50); “weil anderes und es anders möglich wäre, ist es nicht das Notwendige” (“Vorbemerkungen” 7). Comparably, Sommer: “Als das, worin vieles Mögliche sich bindend verbunden ist, steht das Wirkliche in einem Horizont, auch anders sein zu können, auch nicht sein zu können: kontingent zu sein und kontingent zu sein. – Dieser Sachlage suche ich methodisch gerecht zu werden” (Übergang 16). Cf. Waszynski (“Berührbarkeit” 73; re Blumenberg Beschreibung 535; and spec. 570). 136 On his proximity to Skepticism, see Blumenberg (“Annäher. [2001]” 410); also further down in the present subch.; and in 5.2.3, 11.1.1, 11.1. 2 (by proxy: 11.3.3, 11.3.4), herein. 137 Cf. Balmer’s remarks on “Moralistik” as countering “apriorisch deduzierte[…], religiös dogmatisierte[…] Ansprüche[…]” (12; see 15): “Die Moralisten machen […] die menschliche Erfahrung in der Reflexion induktiv transparent für ein Überindividuell-Typisches, das als Appell wirkt, zwischen allen Extremen einen Spielraum der Freiheit wahrzunehmen und endgültigen Fixierungen zu entgehen” (12). 138 Sonja Feger stresses that “Beschreibung” (always) also marks an “auf Abstand bringen, [bei] Variation der [jeweiligen] Distanz” (June 16, 2018; Akademie der Wissenschaften Mainz). 139 Generally, cf. Sommer (Sammeln 387). As to the next paragraphs, see ch. 3; the onset of 4. 140 This, and the ensuing, paragraph are indebted to Trimpi’s reading of the philosopher’s signature method. He links two decisive segments from the corpus: “In each text [sc. the

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observes that ‘Plato plausibly inquired whether the path were to proceed from first principles, or to walk toward them’ (see NE 12–13, 1095b, I.iv.5).141 Decisively distancing himself from his teacher’s eidophiliac architectonics, Aristotle accentuates that an inductive course holds good “for us” (“ἡμῖν”, NE 12–13, 1095b, I.iv.5).142 Likely, he will not only mean the perípatos, but all anthropic aisthéseis, hence cognition (as the Posterior Analytics clarifies).143

|| ‘Nicomachean Ethics’, ‘Posterior Analytics’] we must attain our objectives inductively from what is prior with regard to our own perceptions” (Muses 123). Citations from both follow in the n. below. The above paraphrases the general drift for the reader’s convenience. On the whole, see Bubner’s remark “daß man von den ‘Analytica posteriora’ mit Fug und Recht als einer ‘Wissenschaftstheorie’ sprechen kann” (Antike Themen 112). 141 “It was a good practice of Plato to […] enquire whether the right procedure [‘ὁδός’] was to start from[,] or lead up to[,] the first principles, as in a race-course one may run from the judges to the far end of the track[,] or reversely. Now no doubt it is proper to start from the known. […] for us [‘ἡμῖν’] at all events it is proper to start from what is known to us [‘ἀπὸ τῶν ἡμῖν γνωρίμων’]” (NE 12–13, 1095b, I.iv.5; with 12n.; Trimpi Muses 122; 232–233; “Reason” 108). The latter précises: “Aristotle maintains that we acquire knowledge by proceeding from what is more apprehensible to the senses […]. We begin […] inductively from […] our experience” (Muses 87–88; cf. 232–233); “general concepts (τὸ καθόλου) are built up inductively from sensory perception (αἴσθησις)” (Muses 92). Likewise in ethical matters: “conceptions of moral excellence, justice, and the good involve such differences of opinion that no certain premises can be assumed. Many […] claim [that] such conceptions are merely conventions […][;] we are thrown back to a great extent upon our own experience and, proceeding from its repeated instances collected in the memory”, will “arrive at” the “universal” by way of “induction” (Muses 122; cf. Aristotle NE 7, 1094b, I.iii.2). Contingency is the bottom line. D. Laertius ascribes the ensuing to Epicurus: “it is from plain facts [‘ἀπὸ τῶν φαινομένων’] that we must start when we draw inferences about the unknown. For all our notions are derived from perceptions [‘ἀπὸ τῶν αἰσθήσεων’]” (Lives II. 560–563, X.32). Induction in application: “übertragen vom Einzelleben auf die Geschichte der Menschheit” (Blumenberg Kopernikus [1965] 359n.); “die Erde ist der Stützpunkt aller kosmischen Extrapolationen” (“Kosmos” 77)—instances of the Aristotelian ‘hemin’. On the whole, see the onset of ch. 4, herein. 142 Cf. “The Forms [‘τὰ (…) εἴδη’] may be dismissed—they are mere prattle [‘τερετίσματα’]; […] even if they exist, they are irrelevant” (“Post. An.” 120–121, 83a, I.xxii). See the onset of ch. 4. 143 With context: “sense-perception gives rise to memory […] repeated memories [‘μνήμης πολλάκις’] of the same thing [‘τοῦ αὐτοῦ’] give rise to experience [‘ἐμπειρία’]; […] the memories, though numerically many [‘πολλαὶ’], constitute a single [‘μία’] experience. […] experience, that is the universal [‘τοῦ καθόλου’] when established as a whole […]—the One that corresponds to the Many [‘τοῦ ἑνὸς παρὰ τὰ πολλά’], the unity that is identically [‘τὸ αὐτο’] present in them all—provides the starting-point [‘ἀρχὴ’] of art and science […][;] these faculties [‘ἕξεις’] […] arise from sense-perception [‘ἀπὸ αἰσθήσεως’] […][;] although it is the particular that we perceive, the act of perception involves the universal [‘τοῦ καθόλου’]” (“Post. An.” 256–259, 100a–b, II.xix; cf. Trimpi Muses 91–92, with 122; also 87–88). Aristotle concludes: “by induction [‘ἐπαγωγῇ’] […] we acquire knowledge of the primary premises, because this is also the way in

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Withal, the practicable—humanly passable, relevant—path (“ὁδός”) tends to ‘start out, and proceed, from that which we ourselves ken or know’ (“ἀπὸ τῶν ἡμῖν γνωρίμων”, NE 12–13, 1095b, I.iv.5). From particulars, one advances toward the (more) universal (“τὸ καθόλου”, “Post. An.” 260, 100b, II.xix): “we must start with […] our experience” (Trimpi Muses 120).144 Subject to contingency, the latter differs, is plural, diverse; arbitrary, random—and fundamentally entropic. Nor does said course simply (let alone only) refer to sensory perception. It holds good for already (multiply) mediatized matters—such as the data that are dicta. As Ritter observes, the process marks a method of general applicability: “The load-bearing philosophical concepts […] are not posited by Aristotle. Philosophy takes them up ‘hypoleptically’ from preexisting linguistic usage” (Metaphysik 53; trans. dsm).145 With respect to moral philosophy, he specifies:

|| which general concepts [‘τὸ καθόλου’] are conveyed to us [‘ἐμποιεῖ’, accentuating the ‘making’ involved] by sense-perception” (“Post. An.” 260–261, 100b, II.xix). See Trimpi’s summa: “The universals produced […] by this ‘generic’ capacity of the senses themselves form the intellective principles (archai) of the arts and sciences” (Muses 122). “For Aristotle, induction performs many of the functions of Platonic recollection” (Muses 91n.). The latter presumes that contingency is a second- and third-rate effect, while the causes remain stable, unchanged. By contrast, the former perceives that a potential for otherwiseness results from the primacy of matter (cf. Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11). See ch. 3 (spec. 3.5); the onset of 4, herein. 144 “ALL teaching and learning that involves the use of reason proceeds from pre-existent knowledge” (Aristotle “Post. An.” 25, 71a, I.i); “all reasoned acquisition of knowledge involves a process in which the mind advances from something that is already known” (Tredennick “Intro. [Post. An.]” 5). “Induction supplies […] the universal proposition which stands as major premis[e] for purposes of inference” (“Prior An.” 515n.). Deduction is always secondary: “through induction [‘ἐπαγωγὴ’]”, “we become familiar” with “the distinction between ‘prior to us [‘τὰ μὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]’ and ‘absolutely prior [‘τὰ δ’ ἁπλῶς’]’” (Aristotle “Post. An.” 38–39, 72b, I.iii; cf. 238–239, 97b, II.xiii); “we learn either by induction or by demonstration. Now demonstration proceeds from universals and induction from particulars [‘ἡ δ’ ἐπαγωγὴ ἐκ τῶν κατὰ μέρος’]; but it is impossible to gain a view of universals except through induction [‘ἀδύνατον δὲ τὰ καθόλου θεωρῆσαι μὴ δι’ ἐπαγωγῆς’] (since even what we call abstractions can only be grasped by induction[…]); and we cannot employ induction if we lack senseperception, because it is sense-perception that apprehends particulars [‘τῶν γὰρ καθ’ ἕκαστον ἡ αἴσθησις’]” (“Post. An.” 106–109, 81b, I.xviii). Cf. Ross (38–41; 54–55); and the onset of ch. 4. 145 With: “Anknüpfung an die üblichen Vorstellungen” (Metaphysik 58). Blumenberg: “Nach aristotelischer Auffassung entstammen alle unsere Begriffe der Abstraktion aus dem empirisch Gegebenen” (“Kosmos” 76; generally, cf. Phänomen. 322; 349; 354). Cf. Strauss (What is Political 27–28; 89); Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 243–246; Ventriloquism 25; 25n.). Sommer gives a plausible cause: “Unsere Wahrnehmung ist […] lebensweltlich zumeist schon begrifflich und indirekt auch sprachlich präformiert” (Suchen 38). Contrast Husserl’s teleo-archeo-logical (even revelatory) slant: “Es heißt, die sedimentierte Begrifflichkeit, die als Selbstverständlichkeit der Boden seiner [sc. ‘des Philosophen’] privaten und unhistorischen Arbeit ist, wieder lebendig zu

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Ethical theory is to tie in hermeneutically with the polysemy and capacity for signifying in more [than one] way [‘Mehrsinnigkeit’][, which pertain to] human existence[;] for [it is] only thus that concepts [‘Begriffe’] may be attained, whose validity relates to what [actually] is, simultaneously presupposing and permitting this to stand [as-is]. We possess consummately constructed ethical systems[;] yet when one looks back from their height to the factuality [‘Wirklichkeit’] of human [beings], as it is, one asks oneself what the system’s concepts have to do with it. In an exemplary sense[,] the ‘Nicomachean Ethics’ calls [one] back from such unrelatedness. Its hermeneutic method leads it on the path of hypoleptically tying in with [‘Anknüpfung’] ‘what is said’. (Metaphysik 64; trans. dsm)146

The world being a realm of contingency, matters may ‘signify plurally, variously, elsewise’. Cultural and natural products are subject to the same dynamics—factually and virtually (verbally, noetically). Any scheme as posits some sort of universalistic system, and subsequently tries to subsume the flood of chaotic details thereunder, cannot but founder. Partial fits are possible; perchance even likely, since deductive approaches have an epagogic inception—which they typically renege, suppress, spirit away.147 A total integration is precisely unreasonable. Trying to enforce it has never achieved aught—except more suffering.148 Asked ‘which historical figures he held in the greatest contempt’, Blumenberg replied: “changemakers, who do not (wish to) know, what they are doing” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; trans. dsm).149

|| machen in seinem verborgenen geschichtlichen Sinn” (Husserliana VI. 73, §15; but cf. 270, §73; with “entnimmt”, 511, “aufnehmend”, 512, suppl. XXVIII re §73). While tying in with the latter, see Sommer’s reaccentuations in terms of decided, methodical hypolépseis: “beschreibend […] aufnimmt”; “anknüpft an jene Wegstücke, die von anderen […] bereits durchlaufen wurden”; “anknüpft an die […] festgehaltenen […] Bemühungen”; “anders auszulegen und weiter anzureichern” (Zeitbewußtsein 235; infinitized; cf. 236; with 219). 146 See Ross (189); Bubner: “An ethics[,] whose assertions were systematically disconnected from practice[,] and which[,] for that reason[,] had to hope for the contingent circumstance that the arguer allowed his action to follow what he said, would in the end be simply preaching to the converted” (Modern 153). 147 A pertinent sample: “Nur weil wir faktisch wissen, was eine ‘Höhle’ ist, können wir die Fiktion herstellen, Leute in einer solchen wüßten nicht, was das ist, und folglich auch nicht, wo und wie sie sich befinden und was ‘Ausgang’ bedeuten würde” (Blumenberg Höhlen. 708). 148 “Die Geschichtsphilosophen haben die Welt nur verschieden verändert; es kömmt darauf an, sie zu verschonen” (Marquard Schwierigkeiten 13; with 2, 23, 32, 81; in the bm, no pag.; a prior variant at Skeptische Methode 52). Cf. Blumenberg on the “Barbareiverschonungssystem, genannt Kultur” (Sorge 138). Contrast Marx: “Die Philosophen haben die Welt nur verschieden interpretiert; es kommt aber darauf an, sie zu verändern” (372, §11). Needless to say, any ‘interpretation’—whether tacit or outspoken—is eo ipso a form of ‘change’: one might leave it at that. As to Blumenberg’s accent, cf. also subchs. 7.2.3 and 11.1.2, herein. 149 The above is rendered to yield the dynamics typical of anecdotes in D. Laertius. See the

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In plain contrast to unworldly—quintessentially tyrannical—absolutisms, induction is the human, pragmatic, ‘way to go’: The principle of [being] presuppositionless belongs to the modern concept of science [‘Wissenschaft’] and philosophy; […] but Aristotle practices [and performs] the reverse [‘übt das umgekehrte Verfahren’]. (J. Ritter Metaphysik 40–41; trans. dsm)

Descartes and Husserl desired to start “from scratch and the ground up [o]nce in life (semel in vita funditus denuo)” (Blumenberg Sachen 24; trans. dsm); to erect their schematisms—committed to similar premises, ideas—on a tabula rasa.150 Not only were such hardly sensible in Aristotle’s view. He would probably deem it sheerly unfeasible. One is already embedded in (cultural) contexts, ever ‘methodically’ underway—‘afloat’, ‘aboard’.151 In the realms of human fact- and effectuality, a deduced—logically construed—lack of givens or preconditions (being itself suppositional) is simply inexistent.152 The vital significance of the || source: “Welche geschichtlichen Gestalten verachten Sie am meisten? Veränderer, die nicht wissen (wollen), was sie tun” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; bold emph. removed from the query). One might also trans. the nomen agentis as “alterers”; the intercalated nuance “(wollen)” is accentuated; hence: ‘who will not know’ (as a full verb). 150 “‘[e]inmal im Leben von Grund auf von vorne’ (semel in vita funditus denuo)”. See Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 219–220; 227; 231; “Zu keiner Zeit” 86); Zambon (Nachleuchten 77–79); Flasch (“die Illusion radikalen Anfangenkönnens”, 193); and Blumenberg (“Methode” 139; 139n.; “Kosmos” 63; 63n.; “Zukunft” 133; Wirklichkeiten 41; Lebenswelt 215). He stresses “that the pure and ahistorical commencement was never given and is not performable” (Wirklichkeiten 17; trans. dsm; see Lebenswelt 192; “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 28; M. Sommer “Zu keiner Zeit” 85– 86). Cf. “nicht aber die Herstellung einer vollkommen illusorischen Voraussetzungslosigkeit” (Bubner Antike Themen 61–62). Even so, an “unbiased beginning” may seem utile qua heuristic fiction; spec. with a view to freeing oneself “from [the] presuppositions of [a] metaphysical anthropology” (Blumenberg Wirklichkeiten 16; trans. dsm; Lebenswelt 191–192). Reformulating, universalizing a dictum not incidentally given at the onset of what happened to be the last book Blumenberg published (see Höhlen. 13), Waszynski pertinently notes: “Jeder Anfang, der dennoch gesetzt wird und werden muss, ist ebenso artifiziell wie kontingent” (“Dilemma” 102). 151 To tie in with Blumenberg’s pondersome Pascaline motto: “Vous êtes embarqué” (cited in: Schiffbruch no pag., fm; equal to 5; cf. Sorge 124; with 122–129). It could be objected that, as to syllogistic “reasoning [‘συλλογίζεσθαι’]”, Aristotle claims to have had “no earlier work to quote”, being “for a long time labouring at tentative researches [‘ἢ τριβῇ ζητοῦντες πολὺν χρόνον ἐπονοῦμεν’]”; even so (as this very wording signals), the process itself is inductive— borne out withal by the delegative coda at the end (“Refutations” 154–155, 184b, xxxiv). Nor does said course fail to rely on prior matter (penned or taught, as the context clarifies)—the difference being Aristotle’s ‘method-’ or ‘entechnization’ of the preceding (“Refutations” 150– 155, 183b–184b, xxxiv; see the tastefully reticent reference to Socrates, 150–151). 152 On hypólepsis—‘taking up, tying in with’, proceeding inductively from the given—cf. Ritter (Metaphysik 93; 97). “Immer bleibt das Gegebene […] im Blick” (Blumenberg “Methode” 134).

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(conceptualized) ‘lifeworld’ for Blumenberg’s approach is likely to have a bearing thereon: precisely as that from which one takes the latter.153 Neither in his praxis nor his self-statements does the present philosopher follow the putatively pure ‘dreams of Reason’ on the part of the logicians; and this despite—or precisely due to—enduring dealings therewith.154 A pertinent passage labels such “zero level fictions at best” (Sachen 25; trans. dsm).155 Continuing the metaphor of embarkment, an incidental proviso might be cited, whereby Blumenberg declares (or covertly calls for) proceeding “without any transcendental ballast” (Beschreibung 157; trans. dsm).156 This will mark an ironic katáchresis, quasi of course. For the “transcendental” (however defined) is hardly substantial; while “ballast” would imply ‘of considerable weight’. Any conceivable a priori requires the extancy of the effect whereof it might be taken as a cause or noetic prestructure—all else being pure (if not simple) Platonism. Likewise, Ritter logs: “in relation to that which is”, Aristotle’s “philosophy […] abstains from any construction and deduction from absolute concepts [‘aus reinen Begriffen’]” (Metaphysik 63; trans. dsm).157 Mutatis mutandis, this may evince a descriptive pertinence to Blumenberg’s inductive ‘paths’ of thought (méthodoi, Denkwege); notably as to the ‘anthropistic’ query concerning ‘what it means to be human’.158 With reference to the Stagirite, Ritter writes: || 153 See M. Sommer: “‘Theorie der Lebenswelt’ ist ein Widerspruch in sich” (“Nachwort [2010]” 243). With Waszynski (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 16–20; spec. 17n.; in application: 27–31). Besides those dealt with in more detail herein, see Blumenberg’s Phenomenologically themed writings (Lebenswelt passim; “Das Lebensweltmißverständnis”, in: Lebenszeit 7–68; as well as passim; “Lebenswelt und Technisierung unter Aspekten der Phänomenologie”, in: Wirklichkeiten 7–54; Phänomen. passim; spec. “Phänomenologische Reflexion und Lebenswelt”, 249–367; Begriffe 15–17, s.v. “Lebensweltwörter”; 120, s.v. “‘Lebenswelt’”), inter alia. Cf. Zambon, logging “die kritische Arbeit an der Phänomenologie Husserls” (“Nachwort [2018]” 512; with 513). 154 Human life is always already hypoleptic: ‘freedom’ from contexts and preconceptions will be but another (ostensively lucid, thence lurid) “sueño de la raz[ó]n” as “produce monstruos” (Goya 60, §43; see the variants depicted at 129–131, §58–60, pertaining to the years 1797 and 1799; consulting the ‘preparatory’ sketch is indispensable: 129, §58). Cf. Küpper: “Wir wissen aus der Geschichte der Moderne, daß die sich zur Absolutheit erhebende Ratio Terror gebiert” (“Moderne” 147). “Denn wir verstehen es, List und Tücke gegen unseresgleichen einzusetzen, und das treibt die Katastrophe hervor” (Bubner Studien 13). 155 “allenfalls […] Nullniveaufiktionen”; with context (Sachen 24–25; cf. “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 81; “Lineage” 6; 22; Lachen 11; GKW II. 472; Arbeit 412; also: Kopernikus [1965] 349). 156 “ohne jeden transzendentalen Ballast”. See Wittgenstein: “Nur kein transzendentales Geschwätz” (Geheime 76n.; letter of Jan 16, 1918). Cf. subch. 12.2, herein. 157 See the immediate context; as well as Ritter (Metaphysik 89; 97–98); Strauss (City 26). 158 With respect to Blumenberg, Flasch observes: “Wir sehen ihm beim Denken zu” (282; plus: “Ich beschreibe mitdenkend”, 7). In general, Ritter logs: “Μέθοδος […] hat für Aristoteles

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He […] does not begin with human Nature, so as to first of all determine, what it be[;] and[,] [proceeding] from this concept of man[,] to then lay down how the [effective] implementation [‘Verwirklichung’] of his Nature must look like in human praxis. Rather[,] Aristotle refers to society and the political order[.] (Metaphysik 69; trans. dsm) The procedure, which Aristotle practices here, […] does not consist in defining the Nature of man by means of Reason [‘Vernunft’], so as to then deduce the polis therefrom. Rather[,] the concept of man qua rational Being may only be found and formed, once the polis is in existence. (Metaphysik 76; trans. dsm)159

This will be directed against the Plato of the Republic; and have a bearing on Aristotle’s political theory, as proceeds from the given to the more universal— lest it fall short of the effect- and factualities of life (its prágmata, practicality).160

|| noch den vollen anschaulichen Sinn des Weges. Philosophie ist Weg” (Metaphysik 39; with 79). See the related use of “path [‘ὁδὸν’]”, “methods [‘μεθόδων’]” (“Top.” 278–279, 101b, I.ii). This need not jar with Bubner’s claim: “Für Aristoteles ist der Methodenbegriff wie ein terminus technicus bereits ganz selbstverständlich geworden” (Antike Themen 111). Cf. Trimpi on “[t]he endeavor to find a ‘road’ or method (μέθ + οδος) of inquiry and representation” (“Reason” 108). Blumenberg describes the concept’s diachronically diverse implications as follows. “[Μ]έθοδος bedeutet zunächst: einer Sache nachgehen, etwas verfolgen — im […] Sinne des räumlichbewegungsmäßigen Nachsetzens. Dann aber im übertragenen Sinne: einem Sachverhalt nachgehen, den Gang und Verlauf einer Sache im Blick behalten, theoretisch verfolgen — also: die Untersuchung, aber auch ihr Niederschlag: der Bericht, die Erzählung. Schließlich: einer Idee, einem Plan, einer Vorstellung nachgehen. Immer bleibt das Gegebene, sei es real oder ideal, in seiner eigenen Bewegtheit im Blick. […] Der Bedeutungswandel des Wortes gibt genau die möglichen Aspekte des Begriffes ‘Methode’: von der Führung der Sache, der man nachgeht, über die Führung des Systems, […] bis zur Führung der technischen Konstruktion […]. Diesen Aspekten gemeinsam ist das Moment der Reflexion auf das Verhältnis des Denkens zur Gegebenheit” (“Methode” 134; cf. 133). See these ‘pathful’ phrases: “als Durchgang — und das heißt: ‘methodisch’” (“Methode” 135); “auf den Weg bringen und auf dem Weg halten” (“Methode” 138); “die Erschließung des Weges” (Kopernikus [1965] 354). Cf. Flasch (274). In a Husserlian milieu: “er folgt einer ‘Methode’, beschreitet einen ‘Weg’” (Sommer Zeitbewußtsein 233). Waldenfels counsels “jede Methode wörtlich zu nehmen, […] als Wegsuche” (170). 159 Cf. “Die vernünftige Natur des Menschen […] kann nicht deduziert werden, sie muß als ein Gewordenes vorgegeben sein; aus ihm wird der Begriff hervorgebracht” (Metaphysik 77). See Blumenberg on Pascal (“Recht des Scheins” 424); against Descartes (“Zukunft” 131). Cf. this structurally affine formula: “weil wirklich war und nur daher möglich sein mußte” (Sachen 37). Factuality is the condition for possibility: “Was wirklich ist, muß möglich sein” (Sachen 41). 160 Cf. “In den Augen des Platon-Kritikers […] verdankt der Staat seine Existenz keiner idealen Ordnung […]. Aristoteles baut die politische Ordnung […] von unten auf” (Bubner Studien 29). See Ritter (with his context): “die philosophische Theorie der Polis [‘muß’] hermeneutisch verfahren; sie kann nicht deduktiv wie die Mathematik von Prinzipien ausgehen” (Metaphysik 75; plus 73n., 101–102). A rhetorico-moralistic thrust—such as Blumenberg’s—is mindful (not to say, takes care) of remaining within reach of “pragmatic requirements [‘Lebensbedarf’]”

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While typically spiriting away the preceding process, deductions must have first arrived at a (more) general point, whence they can recur to specifics. By contrast, induction does—so may—begin anywhere in a contingent continuum. Blumenberg’s laborsome method is epagogic.161 Like the Stagirite, he starts from (aisthetic, culturally mediated) particulars—tentatively working his way toward more general planes.162 By heuristically transferring Ritter’s description of Aristotle’s modus operandi to Blumenberg, one may say: the ‘póleis’ a theorist and scholar encounters or chances upon, are—diachronically accumulated, assembled—noetic constructs and construals, consisting (for instance) of anthropological decrees, statutes, deductions, schematics (inter multa alia).163 Affinely, Kablitz speaks of a “polylog […] of many voices, representing the factor ‘time’. For [it is] probably perforce [that] an aging philosophy produces a variety of positions vying for validity” (“Semantik” 123; trans. dsm; see 121). Withal, said diachronic, diverse, differently nuanced definitions—having accrued contingently, claiming ultimate status frequently, being incompatible amongst each other typically—hold out (not to say, forth) a grounding material. Such might serve as the particularities of an inductive approach, as well.164 Not commencing at some presumed ‘zero level’ (as Descartes, Husserl had believed themselves capable of doing), Blumenberg decidedly collects sundry || (Phänomen. 442; trans. dsm; cf. “Kosmos” 74n.); phrónesis is the one thing needful: “ſola prudentia” (Scaliger 82, III.i). Contrast Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 82). 161 ‘Free variation’—spec. in Blumenberg’s comprehensive, virtuoso handling (cf. Lebenszeit 23; with M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 902)—might be described as a technique for producing ‘generalities’, pertaining to a more universal, kathólou plane. Cf. Fellmann (“Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 260, 260n.). In addition to the synchronous supply of sensorial or noetic data, the philosopher’s procedure also has recourse to, and so retains, the diachronic, transcultural copia of (ongoing, multiply mediated) ‘reworkings’, the yield of human culture. Cf. Blumenberg (Sachen 11; 23); plus this felicitous formulation in a Fontanean context: “ein Fundus an Funden, Beobachtungen” (Gerade 36). All that significatively pertains to human téchne sensu lato (cf. Lesbarkeit 409), his evenhandedly ‘conservative’ approach (see Wirklichkeiten 6) safeguards from the radical cutover of Phenomenological reduction. 162 “Auf dem Boden der Erfahrung steht man immer” (Phänomen. 334; cf. 338; “an Erfahrung anknüpft”, 341; 349). “Phänomenologie möchte beschreiben, was uns […] und wie es uns gegeben ist” (Wirklichkeiten 17; Lebenswelt 193)—“will […] die Erfahrung zur Quelle statt zum Produkt […] des Bewußtseins machen. Wie das Bewußtsein mit seinen Inhalten verfährt, ist erst die Konsequenz daraus, daß es sie hat und als was sie ihm gegeben sind” (Sachen 19). 163 Cf. “Die Tatsache wird zum Dekret, auch die vermeintliche Tatsache!” (“Einspruch” 180). 164 In this view, the suggestion that “Philosophie […] kein Lieferant von Letztbegründungen sein [‘kann’]” (Heidgen et al. 16; else plausibly referring to: Blumenberg Höhlen. 22) might be reversed. It does try to ‘purvey’ (not to say, ‘procure’) such. Even so—and precisely in their plurality, diversity (cf. Beschreibung 161)—they serve as points of departure, rather than télea.

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and assorted statements—previously assumed, professed, penned—on the topic of ‘ánthropoi’.165 Such aspects, angles, stances may be taken as phainómena and rhetorico-hypoleptic starting points: when, where, and as expedient. Likewise, Marquard laconizes: “There is hardly any philosophy that does not deal with human [beings]” (Glück 142; trans. dsm).166 Eliding the (Skeptical) hedging formula from said sentence might not seem implausible. Hence the aforequoted meta-definition: “indefinability appertains to man’s Being” (cited in: Beschreibung 510; trans. dsm). Blumenberg comments: “as per its logical habitus, Scheler’s sentence [‘is’] not a definition. Most approximately one might say: it parodies a definition” (Beschreibung 511; trans. dsm).167 In this and such cases, one will be dealing with heuristic (instructive, indicative, ‘aufschlussreiche’) rudiments, pragmatic, paradigmatic rehearsals, polyvalent points of departure. The philosopher then refers to said “type of definition” as “definitional essays”—meaning, “attempts at approximation […] resembling definitions” (Beschreibung 511; trans. dsm).168 The plural already seems significative per se. Semantically, the utilization of the word ‘essai’ may even yield a contradictio in adiecto. For the linguistic operation at issue normally ought to delimit, set boundaries, fence in, or circumscribe (see Beschreibung 504; Phänomen. 497)—the ‘finis’ is literally present within the hypernym.169 At any rate, or regularly, ‘definitions’—unlike || 165 The limning process never starts with a ‘clean slate’, but prior dicta, phainómena. See Fish’s caveat: “description requires categories of description and those categories, in the form of questions we think to ask, will limit in advance the kinds of things that can be described, which in turn will limit the shapes that can even be seen” (741–742). Likely, Blumenberg would concur: “Das Sehen ist nicht jederzeit für alles Sichtbare offen; Phänomene müssen für möglich gehalten werden, ehe man sie sehen kann” (“Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 115). 166 (With Gewaltenteilung 133). Cf. “His [sc. Socrates’] own conversation was ever of human matters [‘περὶ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων’]” (Xenophon 16–17, I.1.16; with 14–15, I.1.12 and 15; D. Laertius Lives I. 174–175, II.45; Blumenberg Legitimität 282–283; 285). See subchs. 11.1.1, 11.1.2, herein. 167 “der Satz Schelers [‘ist’] seinem logischen Habitus nach keine Definition. Am ehesten könnte man sagen: er parodiert eine Definition”. “Am ehesten” might also be rendered ‘soonest’ (in the sense of ‘rather’). Cf. Scheler (186), as cited above. 168 “‘Definitionsessays’”, “definitionsähnliche[…] Annäherungsversuche”. See the inception of Blumenberg’s rhetorical tract: “Was der Mensch ist, wurde in zahllosen definitionsähnlichen Bestimmungsversuchen auf Sätze gebracht” (“Annäher. [2001]” 406). Cf. “auch mangelhafte Definitionen, d. i. Sätze, die […] noch nicht Definitionen, aber […] Annäherungen zu ihnen sind, [‘können’] sehr nützlich gebraucht werden” (Kant, n. at KrV 2. 625, II.1.1.1.a, B759, A731). 169 (Cf. Kant KrV 2. 623, II.1.1.1, B755, A727, with n.). Then again, a “Schwäche der Deskription in der Angabe von Begrenzungen” (Phänomen. 144) may obtain; so Blumenberg distinguishes between “Definitionskriterium und […] Deskriptionskriterium” (Realität 143); while citing the view “daß in der Philosophie die Definition, als abgemessene Deutlichkeit, das Werk eher

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“Beschreibungsversuche” (Quellen 147; with Phänomen. 153)—are precisely not to be test- or trial-like; not ‘assay-istic’: much less potentially in infinitum.170 The Early Modern writer’s cognomen—otherwise to be expected in this context—is not used until later (and in application, apparently not as a generico-methodical reference; see Beschreibung 639). Even so, one could hardly be willing to forego hearing the formal citation in place and play. The word at issue is likely to be rather stably colligated with a certain persona: the designations ‘Montaigne’ and ‘essais’ (including derivatives) may well seem almost exchangeable.171 Should this be plausible, a detailed comparison of the procedures on the part of both thinkers would virtually suggest itself. While such must be delegated at this point, provisory intimations will be permissible: a thorough and functional description of Blumenberg’s method could hardly bypass the impact or influence of a Montaignian écriture.172 That a tellingly entitled work on the former’s part would commence with a selection of || schließen, als anfangen müsste” (Kant KrV 2. 625, II.1.1.1.a, B758–759, A730–731; Blumenberg “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 11; “Wirkungspotential [2001]” 327; and Amslinger 209). Discourse historically: “alle Begriffe, in denen sich ein ganzer Prozess semiotisch zusammenfasst, entziehen sich der Definition; definierbar ist nur Das, was keine Geschichte hat” (Nietzsche KSA 5. 317, II.13; cf. Blumenberg “Staatstheorie” 121; 145n.; Breuer Bekenntnisse 20). Condensed as they might be, diachronic dynamics cannot be bounded once and for all—hence the blatant denial of temporality on the part of all Platonists (counting any crypto-types). See Blumenberg (Lebenszeit 15; 26; “Sokrates [1964]” 295; “Sokrates [2001]” 83); as well as subch. 10.3.2, herein. As to definitional limitation, Cicero capitalizes on (spatio-verbal, hence temporal) brevitas: “est definitio oratio, quae quid sit id de quo agitur ostendit quam brevissime” (“Orator [1962]” 392, xxxiii.116). See Quintilian’s performative sententia: “Finitio […] est rei propositae propria et dilucida et breviter comprensa verbis enuntiatio” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 218, 7.3.2). 170 Cf. “If my mind could gain a firm footing, I would not make essays [‘je ne m’essaierais pas’], I would make decisions [‘je me résoudrais’]; but it is always in apprenticeship [‘en apprentissage’] and on trial [‘en épreuve’]” (Essays 611, III.2; Essais III. 34–35, III.ii). “C’est […] sont ici les essais” (Essais II. 469, II.xvii; plus context). On the word’s etymology, Montaigne’s prototypical use, see Friedrich (Montaigne [1993] 318; with 317–322): “Alle im Begriffsfeld von essai für das damalige Sprachbewußtsein liegenden Bedeutungen sind mitzudenken: coup d’essay, apprentissage, épreuve, exercitation, expérience, jeu, sonder, goûter, tâter” (Montaigne [1993] 320). Cf. Buck (“unsystematische ‘Versuchsprotokolle’”, 79). Stierle accentuates: “Der Essai ist eine pragmatische und poetische Sprachhandlung zugleich” (“Exemplum” 368). Kablitz describes Montaigne’s textuality qua ‘proceedings of thought’ (“Gedankenprotokoll”, “Semantik” 137; cf. 141): it is “[t]he process [‘Vorgang’] of thinking, which the Essais perform time and again” (“Semantik” 138; trans. dsm). See Gamper (“Dichtung als ‘Versuch’” 594–595). 171 Priming his readership, Montaigne fosters such a reception: “Je n’ai pas plus fait mon livre que mon livre m’a fait. Livre consubstantiel à son auteur. D’une occupation propre. Membre de ma vie” (Essais II. 485, II.xviii; cf. Essais III. 36, III.ii; 135, III.v). 172 Friedrich: “Sein Buch enthält eine moralistische Phänomenologie” (Montaigne [1993] 11).

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brief chapters on the Early Modern essayist (see Lebensthemen 9–12, 15–18) may well be of—at least heuristic—import in said respect.173 Within Beschreibung des Menschen, an inventory of previously formulated ‘definitional essais’ ensues; more specifically: “observations concerning the perplexity [encountered] in defining, what man be” (Beschreibung 512; trans. dsm).174 Some are simply strung together; others tersely glossed. The sequential listing covers about five pages (Beschreibung 512–516), eclectically comprising— sans discernible order, notably not of a chronological nature—any conceivable genre: the literary, moraliste; the philosophical, pragmatic, rhetorical, political; the technical, specialist, anthropological; the popular, scientific; the cabaret, satirical, and (ideologically) highly precarious; et caetera. In certain cases, one may well be dealing with all of the above at once—for instance in Vaihinger’s cited line: “Human beings are a simian species ridden with megalomania” (Beschreibung 514; trans. dsm).175 Discourses are juxtaposed as promiscuously (certainly à la Montaigne): Dostoevsky next to Luhmann (see Beschreibung 512); Engels after a quote by Marquard (Beschreibung 513); Kant follows Benjamin Franklin (Beschreibung 515); and the (un)like.176 As to quantity, no rule or order seems discernible: Simmel is cited thrice on five pages (Beschreibung 512–514). Other sayings are given sine loco vel auctore. On the whole, one appears to be facing a relatively contingent, if associative inventory—documenting the philosopher’s heuristic and dispositive praxis. In what ensues, Blumenberg’s hypomnematic—while no less ‘rhapsodic’— descriptions gain the upper hand once more (see the onset of 11, and 11.1.2). Still, such and similar ‘definitional attempts’ continue to be interspersed passim. Nor is said detouring atomism likely to be without method; or else—to put it otherwise: this ‘essai-istic’ (hence Montaignian) modus operandi is itself a || 173 In several respects, Blumenberg inclines toward Montaigne (cf. e.g. Schiffbruch 17–21; Sorge 138–140; Höhlen. 277–284; Lesbarkeit 65–67; Lachen 71–75; “Annäher. [2001]” 410; 431; Verführbarkeit 180–181; Arbeit 17; and as per Traute Marquard 308). The Essais—their Skeptico‘moraliste’ pondering, umwegige écriture qua poetico-hermeneutic procedure—were formative, remained fundamental for Blumenberg (see spec. Höhlen. 282; with Montaigne Essais III. 208, III.viii). Cf. Sommer (de re): “umwegig und versuchsweise” (Zeitbewußtsein 189). 174 “Beobachtungen an der Verlegenheit zu definieren, was der Mensch sei”. 175 “Die Menschen sind eine am Größenwahn erkrankte Affenspezies”. 176 Cf. “Unter den Händen eines Skeptikers, der über den Menschen hinauszufragen sich verwehrt sieht, gerät ein überwiegend konventionelles Material in einen neuen Aggregatzustand” (“Annäher. [2001]” 410). The context refers to Montaigne—rendering said segment another of the philosopher’s indirect, proxying auto-ethopoiíai. On the delegative aspect, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 143–144, 143n.–145n.; 153n.; 177, 177n.; 191–192, 192n.– 194n.; also 13n.; 94n.; 132; 156n.; 158n.; 164n.; 166n.; 169n.; 171; 173n.; 181n.; 185n.–186n.).

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(counter) statement.177 In effect, it will be tantamount to a patent declaration of independence from schematism. The method is (part of) the message (see 5.2.3). All but naturally perhaps, some must demur that ‘one is here dealing with a posthumous work, and never would Blumenberg have published that thus’. As little as such bajulating earfuls may be confuted (it being needless even to disclaim them), as manifestly does precisely this convey the philosopher’s mühselige Arbeits- und Verfahrensweise—his ‘felicitoilsome’, ‘joyperose’ (not to say, ‘blisstering’) way of working.178 It is a path open to any discreet and wary reader. Methodical discernment is imperative. The inductive tendency could even be ‘momentaneously evident’. For it is virtually palpable (or might so seem) that said list of ‘attempts at definition’ is prone to infinite enjambement, potentially. Hence Blumenberg adds further ‘essais’—some ostensibly of his own making: Man is the animal that wishes to [‘will’] make [or do] everything on its own[.] (Beschreibung 508; trans. dsm)179 Man is the Being that could have failed to accomplish itself and [that] may still fail [therein]. (Beschreibung 524; trans. dsm)180 Man is indirectly domesticated: he first crafted the [cultural] encasement [‘Gehäuse’, ‘enhouse-ment’], whose domestic animal [‘Haustier’, ‘household pet’] he could then become. (Beschreibung 539; trans. dsm)181 Man is improbability incarnate. He is the animal that lives even so. (Beschreibung 550; trans. dsm; see 633)182 || 177 Cf. Maclean: “Montaigne’s Essais are famous for their forthright rejection of definition” (257; with Essais III. 409, III.xiii). 178 More likely than not, the most auto-ethopoetic sententia Blumenberg ever brought himself to put into writing: “Man kann es sich […] gar nicht mühselig genug werden lassen” (GKW I. 235). Cf. “Die allen diesen Mühseligkeiten immanente Tendenz” (GKW I. 235): “nochmals ein mühseliger und riskanter Umweg – wie das Leben selbst und insgesamt” (Arbeit 103). See the load-bearing pointe in Blumenberg’s pondersome acceptance speech (citing an Aesopic fable, 431, §60): “Um mir die Last wieder aufzuladen” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 59). Along with the ensuing statement of manifest purpose: “Nun möchte ich einen kleinen Schritt weitergehen” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 60; with Lebensthemen 137). Cf. subch. 10.3.3; Marquard (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIV); H. Ritter (“Der Arbeiter” 33). Withal (lest it be forgotten), this paragraph inclines toward rendering hommage to Blumenberg’s wrymost humor—an appreciation wherefor was memorably advocated by Breuer in conversation during the meeting in Mainz (June 15, 2018). 179 “Der Mensch ist das Tier, das alles selbst machen will”. 180 “Der Mensch ist das Wesen, das sich hätte mißlingen können und noch mißlingen kann”. 181 “Der Mensch ist indirekt domestiziert: er hat zuerst das Gehäuse geschaffen, dessen Haustier er anschließend werden konnte” (“eine[…] kulturelle[…] Zone”, Beschreibung 539). 182 “Der Mensch ist die verkörperte Unwahrscheinlichkeit. Er ist das Tier, das trotzdem lebt”; the latter implies ‘Trotz’ (qua ‘self-assertive defiance’). For a knowingly mortal being, “das

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Man is a semiotic [‘zeigendes’: ‘(finger)pointing’, ‘indicating’, ‘signifying’, ‘deictic’] Being[.] (Beschreibung 598, trans. dsm)183 Man is indubitably a Being that cannot flee from its prehistory at will, also not from [its] smarting [‘Schmerz’: ‘pain’, ‘grief’]. (Beschreibung 626; trans. dsm)184 Man is an extreme shifter of standpoints[.] (Beschreibung 879; trans. dsm)185 Man is definable by [the fact] that he does something merely to experience, whether he can [do] it. (Beschreibung 882)186

Other works might be consulted; for instance regarding a mention of “the nondefined mammal” (Lebensthemen 134; trans. dsm).187 Mayhap, the latter alludes to Nietzsche’s reasonably notorious statement that man be “the a s y e t u n d e t e r m i n e d a n i m a l” (KSA 11. 125, 25[428]; trans. dsm).188 The facture of such sentences is described as follows: “What characterizes them is the nexus between the formal claim to universality and the material || trotzdem lebt” (“Annäher. [2001]” 427), there is solace in living even so: “Der Mensch ist ein trostbedürftiges Wesen” (Sorge 153). Trotz and Trost are ‘entechnic’: “sola humana arte” (Nicholas of Cusa “de mente” 492–493, II; with Blumenberg Legitimität 621). Cf. subch. 11.1. 183 “Der Mensch ist ein zeigendes Wesen”. 184 “Der Mensch ist zweifellos ein Wesen, welches aus seiner Vorgeschichte nicht beliebig flüchten kann, auch nicht vor dem Schmerz”. 185 “Der Mensch ist ein extremer Standpunktwechsler”. See spec. ch. 12, herein. 186 “Der Mensch ist definierbar dadurch, daß er etwas tut, bloß um zu erfahren, ob er es kann”; “erfahren” might be rendered ‘find out’, ‘come to know’. Cf. subch. 11.1 (spec. 11.1.3). 187 “das nicht definierte Säugetier”. 188 “dass der Mensch das n o c h n i c h t f e s t g e s t e l l t e T h i e r ist” (KSA 5. 81, III, §62). Cf. Gehlen (75, 86, 130, 130); Wetz (Blumenberg 219); Stierle (“Moralistik” 7, 20; Moralisten 281, 295); Kablitz (Neuzeit 271); Mayfield (Artful 395, 395n.; 413n.; 430n.). Blumenberg stresses: “Wirklichkeit ist ihm [sc. ‘Nietzsche’] nicht das Vorgefundene und Vorgegebene, der Mensch konsequent nicht ein ‘Wesen’ von fester Spezifität” (Realität 57; with 60). As to the above, see other pertinent instances from the philosopher’s œuvre (zeugmatically listed): “Der Mensch ist ein Wesen der Ansichten mindestens ebenso, wie er eines der Einsichten sein oder werden mag” (Lesbarkeit no pag., fm, preface, corresponds to iii); “das sichtbare Wesen in einem emphatischen Sinne” (Höhlen. 55; cf. Selbstverständnis [1997] 139– 140); “ein zögerndes Wesen, verdient den Beinamen Cunctator” (Beschreibung 276; cf. Sorge 18; Realität 117); “bis in seine wissenschaftlichen Verhaltensweise hinein, ein Wesen, das allem zuvorkommen muß” (Unbegrifflichkeit 109); “ein Wesen von beschränkter Gegenwärtigkeit” (Gerade 102); “das Wesen, das sich an der Welt erschöpft, das Wesen der Vergeblichkeit” (zur Literatur 70). “So wurde der Mensch, beim Durchgang durch die Höhle, das träumende Tier” (Höhlen. 29). “Der Mensch ist das Tier, das sich andere Tiere hält” (Löwen 89). “Es läßt sich auch ohne Philosophie leben. Der Mensch ist nahezu dadurch definitionsfähig, daß er ohne das meiste leben kann” (Sachen 15; see Lebensthemen 134); with “nahezu dadurch definitionsfähig” virtually rephrasing ‘definitional essai’ (de re). Cf. also subch. 12.1, herein.

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resignation as to the partial aspect” (Beschreibung 511; trans. dsm).189 The latter precedes the former: the contingency of data calls for an inductive approach. Floating freely in ‘(virtual) cultural networks’, ‘definitional essais’ can be ‘tied in with’—in variform ways.190 A hypoleptic inventory may be taken—sans rigidifying into schematism.191 In their very atomism—eclectic disparity, casual diversity—said efforts are susceptible of provisional attempts at order(ing). Yet these will not generate an all-encompassing synthesis (let alone ‘sublation’); nor even plausibly permit such—provided there is no ‘credulogic’ involved. Being instances of a ‘(more) general specific’ or a ‘partial (quasi) universal’, essays describing ‘what it means to be human’ are themselves particular(itie)s. The same as from (the assumption of momentaneous) sense perceptions, one might proceed inductively from these noetico-linguistic phainómena—culturally manufactured, hence multiply mediated, data.192 They may be approximated, recycled, amplified, refunctionalized—virtually at will, due to their structural, formal design; hence serve as hypoleptic points of departure.193 For almost two and a half millennia, the latter has indeed occurred with (or sans) respect to the Aristotelian ‘definitional essays’—notably those of an ‘anthropistic’ cast.194 In precisely this manner, Montaigne approaches the ‘cultural networks’ of his day, specifically the contingently, diachronically accrued sayings as happen to be floating therein. Blumenberg’s inductive, heuristically descriptive method seems comparable to the Stagirite’s—and the Essayist’s—in tendency, structure, theoretical praxis. Aristotle remains a reliable point of reference.195 Withal, the present philosopher will—tacitly, but traceably—allude to the modus operandi of the eminent Early Modern virtuoso of descriptive assaying also. These and such intertextual intimations may well function as an express counter statement to the deductive schematism typical of a Descartes—and of || 189 “Was sie charakterisiert, ist die Verbindung zwischen dem formalen Anspruch auf Allgemeinheit und der materialen Resignation auf den partiellen Aspekt”. 190 On the concept of ‘(virtual) cultural networks’, see Küpper (Cultural Net passim); plus subchs. 3.2, 3.6, 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 5.2.3, 6.6, 7 (overall), 10.2, 11.3.4, 13.3.1, 13.5, and passim, herein. 191 Cf. Blumenberg’s caveat (Phänomen. 411). 192 See the references to Aristotle’s resp. praxis in ch. 3 (spec. 3.2 to 3.4); plus the onset of 4. 193 Cf. the discussion in subch. 5.2.3; as well as the onset of 11.1, herein. 194 For a spec. instance, see Blumenberg (Sachen 44); more generally, Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim; spec. 236n.; 238; 238n.; 250n.; 252–257; 263–264, 263n.; 266–274). 195 See Sommer: “Aristoteles […] erfreut […] sich der Hochachtung Blumenbergs” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78). “Wie kaum anders zu erwarten, liebt Blumenberg an Aristoteles den Anfang der Metaphysik und das Ende der Nikomachischen Ethik. Alle Menschen streben aus ihrer Natur heraus nach Wissen […][.] Der bíos theoretikós […] ist das glücklichste [‘Leben’]” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 81; with 81–82); the context cum grano salis.

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all as are ultimately indebted to him: Husserl, inter alia. A pertinent declaration of purpose might be take to say as much: The arrogance of the concept towards [(noetically) visuo-vivid] perception, of deduction towards description[,] is ‘reduced’ to its [proper] measure, which consists in an enclitic need on the part of all theoretical conceptualization[s] for taking [their] bearings from [the] imaginative – [the] mythical, [the] metaphorical, [the] narrative. (Blumenberg Höhlen. backmatter, no pagination; trans. dsm)196

Sentences are phenomena also.197 In the products (or residues) of téchne, one is facing another playing field of týche.

5.2.2 Description Thereof: Artfulness Involved Larvatae nunc scientiae sunt[.] —Descartes (“Cogitationes” 192, AT215) What is to be described comes to the fore once one has begun describing. —Blumenberg (Sachen 173; trans. dsm)198 One may have a closer look at the handicraft [‘the fingers’] of such a disciplined author. —Blumenberg (Höhlen. 282n.; trans. dsm)199

|| 196 “Die Arroganz des Begriffs gegenüber der Anschauung, der Deduktion gegenüber der Beschreibung wird auf ihr Maß ‘reduziert’, das im Anlehnungsbedürfnis aller theoretischen Begrifflichkeit an imaginative – mythische, metaphorische, narrative – Orientierungen besteht”. “Anlehnungsbedürfnis”, i.e. ‘a need for inclining towards, or leaning onto’. Said passage is printed on the backflap. In Mainz (June 14, 2018; Akademie der Wissenschaften), Breuer advocated a hermeneutic refunctionalization of the linguistic process of ‘énklisis’. 197 Cf. “Dienst an der Schärfung der Wahrnehmungsfähigkeit im weitesten Sinne ist das, was die Philosophie gemein hat und was sie gemein macht mit allen ‘positiven’ Disziplinen. Nur daß allein sie kein anderes Verfahren hat, ihre ‘Phänomene’ zu konservieren, als sie zu beschreiben. Sogar wenn sie ihre eigene Geschichte schreibt, beschreibt sie das Hervortreten ihrer ‘Phänomene’, für die es keine andere Präparation gibt als eben diese Geschichte. Und wie das geschieht, ist wiederum eines ihrer ‘Phänomene’” (Wirklichkeiten 6). See Sommer’s expedient term “Phänomenbestand” (Suchen 9). 198 The German is cited at the onset of ch. 5.2; cf. 5.1.3. Its triple iteration aims at accentuating this dictum’s nonpareil pivotality. See Sommer: “beschreibende Entfaltung” (Suchen 11); “ich suche durch die Beschreibung” (Übergang 15)—tailored to the present purpose. 199 “Einem so disziplinierten Autor darf man genauer auf die Finger sehen”. Simultaneously, the latter implies ‘looking over someone’s shoulder’; here spec. in the sense of attentively observing a master at work; with the intent of acquiring a particular skill (e.g. in a given trade or art, here of writing). In turn, the ‘manual’ labor implied in (rhetorical) ‘cheíro-praxis’, ‘manipulation’—spec. as to (textual) dexterity (‘Fingerfertigkeit’)—insinuates sleights of hand, or

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Taking said layout as a tentative plane of departure, theoretical contrast agent, Blumenberg’s descriptions—their particular artfulness, rhetorical facture—are to be traced in a(n always) subsequent step. If inductive Beschreibung (per se) represents a possible rejoinder to a ‘definitionous’, contingently ‘chaotized’ state of play, this might be appreciated as a mindful change of modus, even while finding expression in feckfully formulated self-statements concerning the limning process itself.200 A respective description may yield a mise en abyme of the overall method; hence amount to an—if not the—message.201 In his poetico-hermeneutic Höhlenausgänge, Blumenberg offers a footnote on Montaigne—likewise of import in ‘essai-istic’ regards. Said gloss contains the third motto given above. As will hold good for sundry other remarks with respect to renowned (or notorious) authors, it will seem permissible to apply such ‘closer scrutiny’ to the philosopher himself, and as well. A pertinent passage is found in Zu den Sachen und zurück, in the section “Becoming Conspicuous and Taking Notice” (Sachen 182–206; trans. dsm).202 The focus is on “[t]he phenomenon of attentiveness” (Sachen 182; trans. dsm). With perspectival and characteristic (not to say, Socratic) indirection, Blumenberg nevertheless aims at “initially circumventing” said accent, by

|| puppeteering; hence an otherwise imperceptible performance behind the scene of a written surface (see ch. 13). By vicariously partaking in Blumenberg’s poetico-hermeneutic scrutiny of another’s (printed) prestidigitation, a wary recipient—capable of reading between the lines— will concurrently perceive the philosopher’s pulling of (verbal) strings (so to say). Hence be capable of performing what is due: “Beschreibung dessen, was sich abspielt” (Phänomen. 411). See also Sommer’s (hypoleptic) incipit of a comparable process: “Schaut man also dem Autor Husserl auf die Finger” (Zeitbewußtsein 183). For readings in said respects, cf. subch. 11.3. 200 On ‘chaoticization’, see Küpper (Discursive 12–13; 14n.; 16; 262; 267; 269n.; 270; 279–280; 287; 292). In a temporal, material realm, any attempt at order, regulation remains subject to contingency: elseness is the way of all things (human); entropy the polydirectional vector. 201 See the onset of subch. 5.2; as well as 5.2.1, herein. 202 “Auffallen und Aufmerken”. As is usually the case, the implications of the source exceed what a trans. may render or retain. In the present case, ‘Auffallen’ (a verb that could be used as a noun) also implies ‘catching’ or ‘striking’ (qua ‘falling into’) ‘the eye’; hence ‘being found worthy of attention’ (implying, for whichever reason). The verb ‘fallen’ thus insinuates a certain passivity or serendipity—as in ‘falling in love’ (here with phainómena, needless to say). The sense of sight is highlighted. Containing the root still used in the phrase ‘to mark something well’ (or in the adjective ‘remarkable’), ‘Aufmerken’ is a verb (potentially qua noun) that, in current usage, tends to accentuate the auditory; as does Aufmerksamkeit typically (though not only)—else one would use Augenmerk. It indicates that a certain (visual, distinct, marked) ‘sign(al)’ has previously (and deliberately) been put in (a spec.) place (by whomever); that a ‘(semeiotikòn) heeding’ or ‘taking note’ is requisite. Both verbs (resp. nominalizations) point to (audio-visual) attentiveness.

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speaking of a “contiguous concern”: specifically, the “function of description – which is precisely taking place right here and now” (Sachen 182; trans. dsm).203 One is facing a distinctly—and decidedly—self-referential formulation. By recourse to a related line elsewhere, a reciprocity of the above concepts comes into view: “Description is a matter of precise observation, of attention, of concentration” (Lebenszeit 40; trans. dsm).204 The officium of Beschreibung is “to render attentive” (“aufmerksam zu machen”, Sachen 182; trans. dsm); and Blumenberg reaccentuates that verb of action, the labor involved: “This must be ‘made’” (“Dies muß ‘gemacht’ werden”, Sachen 183).205 Thence ensues a || 203 “Das Phänomen der Aufmerksamkeit”; “zunächst zu umgehen”; “von dem benachbarten Sachverhalt”; “Funktion der Beschreibung – die eben hier gerade stattfindet”. Cf. other methodical indirections (Höhlen. 282; Wirklichkeiten 163; as applied to Rothacker, “Nachruf” 72; above all: “Vorbemerkungen” 4). Given the Phenomenological context (here, overall), the German verb utilized might insinuate ‘(her)umgehen’ (‘walking around’)—in which way (or so doing) one may attain to various angles or perspectives; hence perceive differing facets, nuances (Abschattungen) of a given phainómenon (generally: Kopernikus [1965] 353n.). Overall, see Bubner’s most felicitous formulation: “heuristische Verfeinerung” (Geschichtsprozesse 145). Cf. Sommer: “die anschauliche Beschreibung [‘muß’], schon um ihren Gegenstand […] präsent halten zu können, wortreich bei ihm verweilen, […] ihn redundant umschreiben und immer wieder umkreisen” (Sammeln 58; plus Zeitbewußtsein 198–199; “Wirklichkeit” 34–35). 204 “Beschreibung ist eine Sache des genauen Hinsehens, der Aufmerksamkeit, der Konzentration”. Precision will not be pursued at all costs: “Die gleiche Forderung bedeutet in verschiedenen Phasen der Geschichte der Wissenschaft nicht das Gleiche. Der Anspruch auf Genauigkeit führt auf einem frühen Stand der Erkenntnis in die Irre, indem er die spekulative Deduktion begünstigt und die Erfahrung entmutigt” (Pseudoplatonismen 33–34). Withal, one may attend to the fact that description is itself a ‘res’—a ‘case (in point)’, ‘something at issue’. Generically, discourse historically, the rhetorico-forensic implications cannot be spirited away. Cf. “Philosophie, zumal in ihren deskriptiven Verfahren als Phänomenologie, ist Disziplin der Aufmerksamkeit” (Wirklichkeiten 5). The latter is “Thema der Philosophie, […] Aufgabe der Beschreibung” (Sachen 189); and condensed into this formula: “beachtet und beschrieben” (Phänomen. 380). Blumenberg’s own “Ordnungsruf” stresses the metalevel: “Was zu erlernen ist, ist Aufmerksamkeit auf die Aufmerksamkeit” (Sachen 191); “also nicht nur […] Siehe!, sondern auch: Sieh genauer hin!” (Beschreibung 776; see also: Höhlen. 278; Wirklichkeiten 5). The latter is likely to have abysmal implications, as the discourse historical import of Latin ‘ecce’ cannot be spirited away (cf. spec. Jn 19:5; Vulgate). “Aufmerksamkeit […]: nicht neue Gegenstände, sondern dieselben neu” (Vollzählig. 308; see “Kopernikus [1973]” 461; Kopernikus [1965] 351; 355; “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 115; Lachen 31). As to the trans. of the aforesaid term, it might be mentioned that the philosopher also uses a Latinate variant himself (not only with respect to sententiousness, euphony): “Prävention kompensiert Attention” (Beschreibung 871). This may well allude to a maverick Jesuit, for whom Blumenberg had a particular penchant: “la penetrante inteligencia […] previene con atenciones” (Gracián Oráculo 108, §13). 205 The locution ‘aufmerksam machen’ employs the ‘poietic’ verb kat’ exochén, where the English would typically use ‘draw’ or ‘call attention (to)’; and comparable cases (or senses),

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paramount passage, wherefrom one might take one’s bearings. A detailed description thereof will thus direct the present endeavor at this point. The insinuated segment may well be the most incisive statement of purpose, whereto Blumenberg could bring himself to subscribe (zu dem er sich hat verstehen können) from his habitual, formative poly-perspectivalism. Before, he writes a downright abysmal sentence—describing a (general) performance: Aufmerksammachen ist die Formel für das, was wesentlich philosophisch – aber auch in anderen deskriptiven Disziplinen – geleistet werden kann. [‘]Rendering attentive[’] is the formula for that [service] which may be performed [and provided] by philosophy in the main – but also in other descriptive disciplines. (Sachen 183; trans. dsm)206

First, the sequence of (German) words at the end: a ‘description of capacity’ (“geleistet werden kann”)—simultaneously countermanding and -acting any of the tacit ‘Oughts’ as tend to be in play ‘disciplinarily’ (however defined). Then, the word “wesentlich”—an innocent use of which would seem rather unlikely in such a context. From the slant of a certain notion of philosophy (probably capable of consensus elsewhere), Blumenberg’s declaration will at least look like a tacit qualification; or even a form of asceticism from—not to say, reduction of—a sense of entitlement predictable in other quarters. The ‘essence’ of ‘philosophical performance’ is not seen in (for instance) pursuing, procuring, imparting, promoting ‘The Truth’—to say nothing of loving it (or Sophia, to boot): all of which would, in any event or case, be (discourse) historically documented positions; severally held, or taken for the time being, hence diachronically valid; and still asserted, if not maintained, on occasion.

|| combining said noun with ‘demand’, ‘solicit’, ‘capture’, ‘compel’, ‘command’, etc. Then again, one might note the connotations of the phrase ‘to make known’. 206 Considering the setting (spec. the intercalation), the phrase “wesentlich [sc. vornehmlich] philosophisch” is here seen and taken as signifying ‘by (the) philosophical (discipline) first and foremost’; rather than as an ‘essentialist’ modification of ‘philosophically’. Still, the latter will be intimated by the very terms used (as discussed above); and then excluded by the context—a characteristic move in Blumenberg’s arsenal of subtleties. Later, “philosophy” is given as “one […] of those disciplines, which[—]even under pretext of […] the highest standards[—]ultimately ‘only’ serve the intensification and whetting of attentiveness”; he incl. “all descriptive and hermeneutic disciplines”, e.g. “literary studies”, “the study of art”, “history”; said observant respect is expressly set in an environment concerned with “salvaging the phenomena” (Sachen 190; trans. dsm; cf. Phänomen. 426; Fellmann “Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 252n.). That formula comprises certain of Blumenberg’s (lifelong) projects pertaining to ‘rhetoric’ sensu lato (e.g. “Metaphorologie”, “Philosophische Mythologie”, Sachen 190–191).

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Instead, “wesentlich philosophisch”, the discipline’s functional fulfillment, is given as ‘a descriptive practice attempting to render attentive’. In view of a recurrent infrequency (or quasi chronic absence), such ‘aufmerksam machende Beschreibung’ will be an interminable process.207 The potential of said sentence—or else, of that anti-definition—is still not exhausted (nor might it be). The factual chasm appears to open up in the intercalated qualification (located rather at the center, in the German syntax). Considering the overall condition of the Humanities in the twenty-first century, even assuming the existence of “descriptive disciplines” may seem to be wishful thinking—albeit in a downright solacing capacity.208 The sentence’s abysmal quality lies in deeming philosophy a ‘beschreibende Disziplin’—a ‘task (or job) description’ that is performed en passant, hence precisely not definitionally.209 In many or most sectors thereof, views and states of play will likely (or all but rationally) differ on that score. For even where description does have its proper procedural place indeed— primarily (not to say, self-evidently) in Phenomenology—it ultimately remains but a means to an end: be it with a view to those Ideas, some Core Essence, the Truth; or however a respectively topical vogue might wish to have and beat its whims.210 The bottom line will be the following: “[Visuo-vivid] perception as such cannot even be had. It was Husserl’s Platonizing illusion that there [may actually] be the perception of Being” (Sachen 9).211 Blumenberg tenders a type of antidote to the definitionous. Sooner than as a fact—to say naught of an Ought or default—he plainly describes the office or

|| 207 Cf. “die […] von Blumenberg […] formulierte Maxime, ‘daß eine Theorie nicht mehr wert ist als die deskriptiven Leistungen, deren Möglichkeiten sie eröffnet, indem sie einen Gegenstand der begrenzten Perspektive seiner ‘Fachzugehörigkeit’ entreißt’” (Jauß “Epilog” 530–531). 208 Blumenberg deemed “‘postmodernity’ ripe for slaughter” (Höhlen. 798; trans. dsm). See spec. the onset of ch. 11; as well as 11.1.2, herein. 209 Cf. “Philosophie offenbart nichts. Sie kann das erst recht nicht, wenn sie sich als beschreibende Disziplin vorstellt, wie es die Phänomenologie tut” (Lebenszeit 365; with 328); for the context, see subch. 5.1.2. The phrase “erst recht nicht” may seem to imply that certain philosophical tendencies (soi-disant) are indeed in the business of ‘revealing’. Perchance, it is being insinuated that their label might then be updated to ‘theological’ (see below). 210 “Deskription”: “die phänomenologische Grundform der Resultatbildung” (Lebenszeit 328; cf. Beschreibung 146; 305; “Leistungen angemessen zu beschreiben”, 147; Phänomen. 26; 438). 211 “Anschauung als sie selbst ist gar nicht zu haben. Es war Husserls platonisierende Illusion, es gebe die Wesensanschauung”. See also Blumenberg (Beschreibung 150; Phänomen. 28). Spec. “Die Fiktion der klassischen Realismen ist, daß in der Verdichtung deskriptiver Mittel, in der Genauigkeit der Aufschließung des zuvor schon alltäglich-unwirklich Gewordenen, Realität erfaßt werden kann” (“Vorbemerkungen” 9).

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performance of ‘rendering attentive’ qua potential. In the ensuing statement of purpose, this (textual) gesture is expressed in a memorable manner: initially, with almost rare starkness—bearing in mind Blumenberg’s otherwise more subtle ethos; while still well-nigh in line with his characteristically unobtrusive indirection overall. Rather naturally, there will be method in these detours: Nothing is being taught, nothing assigned as a lesson, nothing introduced and no one conducted, nothing promised let alone prophesied, neither hope raised nor fear aroused. This instead: attention is being called to that which is assumed to have hitherto not come into sight [at all], or not distinctly enough. Who[ever] does not see it thereupon is dispensed, as it were. [To be] inducing conviction would downright amount to the retroactive disavowal of description. (Sachen 183; trans. dsm)212

In Alford’s felicitous formulation: “Every act of attention is a dance […] with contingency” (Poetic Attention 20).213 Capacities vary; hence its elegance. Discursively, Blumenberg’s above passage proves a patent renunciation of Husserl’s policy—if read in conjunction with an earlier remark observing that “the Phenomenological subject” is unable to “endure ‘pure spectatorship’”: “by way of Description, it must indoctrinate, promulgate, dogmatize, therapize the ‘Crisis’ at the end” (Sachen 36).214 Contingently, there will be other modes. In a humanistico-comparatist view, structural equivalences—especially if of a diachronic cast—tend to have an intrinsic, aggregate, local, time value (so to say). Perchance, it will thus appear plausible to adduce a 1958 remark as may seem relatable to the above—not only due to the wording:

|| 212 This trans. is given de re; the German is cited below, in the detailed discussion of this segment. Formulating “neither [are] hope[s] raised nor fear[s] aroused” might seem more idiomatic. Heidenreich plausibly refers to said passage as “programmatisch” (20). In the overall œuvre, another statement of purpose may be received as being of comparable structure, accent, and memorability (see Lesbarkeit 408–409; with M. Sommer Zeitbewußtsein 235–236; Mayfield Ventriloquism 22, 22n.). It is cited in subch. 5.1.3; and discussed in 11.1.3, herein. 213 Pertinently, she accentuates “the contingency of perception” (Poetic Attention 20; cf. 271); and her inductive descriptions as “attempt[s] to trace the dance of attention” (Poetic Attention 3; with: “primarily a bottom-up, phenomenological process”, 5). As to the above, see ch. 13.5. 214 “das phänomenologische Subjekt [‘erträgt’] das ‘reine Zuschauertum’ [nicht] […][;] es muß durch Beschreibung belehren, verkünden, schulbildend werden, am Ende die ‘Krisis’ therapieren”. The above trans. is chosen with a view to conveying the rhythm (hence tendency) of Blumenberg’s statement. More literally, the penultimate phrase signifies ‘establishing a (philosophical) school’—the result of which would typically be a dogma. As Zill logs (cf. “Nachdenklichkeit” 221; 237), Blumenberg endorsed Montaigne’s characteristic dictum “Je n’enseigne point, je raconte” (Essais III. 37, III.ii). Their affinities cover ductus and diction.

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Faulkner’s works draw the reader into [an] experiment. They do not present him [or her] with anything[:] no solutions, no decisions, no hopes. They only drive the query into him [or her]: Even now, even after this, do you still hold on to humankind? (Blumenberg zur Literatur 279; trans. dsm)215

What is considered significative in such processual matters does not seem dissimilar throughout the years of his variegated labors (also transgenerically). Moreover, the above indirectly accentuates what may be conjectured as to related—likewise methodically delegative—remarks with respect to Lichtenberg, Goethe, Schopenhauer, Husserl, Fontane (say).216 By vicariously representing their habitus and modi, the philosopher is concomitantly keeping a descriptive record of his own performances, procedures (and be it ex negativo).217 The rhetorical facture of the aforecited passage is noteworthy in itself. Mayhap, this is an apt place to apply the hypothesis that a propensity towards description tends to have a feedback effect upon the form thereof—resulting in a mise en abyme de la méthode. In line therewith, one might treat Blumenberg’s technical dexterity to closer scrutiny—by recourse to the source: Es wird nichts gelehrt, nichts zu lernen aufgegeben, nichts eingeführt und niemand angeführt, nichts versprochen und erst recht nichts verheißen, weder Hoffnung erweckt noch Furcht eingejagt. Statt dessen dies: Es wird aufmerksam gemacht auf das, wovon die Vermutung besteht, es sei bis dahin nicht oder nicht deutlich genug gesehen worden. Wer es daraufhin nicht sieht, ist gleichsam dispensiert. Überredung wäre geradezu die nachträgliche Desavouierung der Beschreibung. (Sachen 183)218

|| 215 “Faulkners Werke ziehen den Leser ins Experiment. Sie schenken ihm nichts, keine Lösungen, keine Entscheidung, keine Hoffnung. Sie treiben nur die Frage in ihn hinein: Hältst du auch jetzt noch, auch nach diesem noch, am Menschen fest?”. In said essay, a comparable remark is made about the protagonist of a novel, who “has no gospel [or: ‘promulgation’], no sense of mission, no claim to power” (“hat keine Verkündigung, kein Sendungsbewußtsein, keinen Machtanspruch”, zur Literatur 284; trans. dsm). Significatively, Friedrich says as much about Montaigne: “Hier wird nicht doziert” (Montaigne [1993] 10; with Essais II. 75, II.vi). 216 In conversation (June 15, 2018; Akademie der Wissenschaften Mainz), Breuer stressed that Blumenberg in lectures called for a perusal of Schopenhauer’s Nachlaß. Cf. subchs. 11.1.1, 11.3. 217 Cf. Sommer’s comparable take on Husserl’s textual selfcraft via Brentano (Zeitbewußtsein 205–206). In Mainz (June 14, 2018; Akademie der Wissenschaften), Breuer stressed the import of the Cartesian “larvatus prodeo” (“Cogitationes” 190, AT214; with 241n.; 192, AT215). That the philosopher adopted the latter for his variform auto-ethopoiíai is also attested in Hartung (159). For significative hypolépseis of ‘larva’, cf. Blumenberg (Gerade 8; 10; Löwen 52). 218 For an English rendition, see above; the ensuing analysis has detailed recourse to the source. Withal, it cannot be excluded that Blumenberg is (humorously) alluding to the game ‘I spy with my little eye’—the German catchphrase being: ‘ich sehe was, was du nicht siehst’. On the philosopher’s playfulness, see also subchs. 10.1 and 10.4, herein.

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It is a statement of purpose as starts with an impersonale; and continues in that vein (the parallelistico-zeugmatic “Es wird”), before its reference changes in the second section.219 Apropos the phrases “es sei”, “Wer es”, said term signifies the res respectively in question—worthy of curiositas, hence described. Letting the agent fall into a praeteritio is in line with the context and tendency, of course.220 What will likely draw (even strike) the attention next is the fact that this meta-description proceeds ex negativo: a triply repeated, quasi-anaphorical “nichts” is varied by a “niemand”; followed by two further instances of the former; then iterated with modification via the parallel “weder […] noch”.221 Even formally, these negations offer a marked contrast to what ensues: they paradigmatically epitomize brevitas, attained to by ellipsis, specifically a zeugma; here, the omission of the introductory phrase “Es wird”—noetically applicable to the further members pertaining to this octopartite enumeration. Then, the adversatively vicarious “Statt dessen” (signaling the denial of an assumed, albeit unfulfillable anticipation) catalyzes a warily worded, distinctly Blumenbergian—being indirect (umwegig), hence also formally contrastive— part of speech: “das, wovon die Vermutung besteht”. While said ‘instead’ thus represents plausible expectations on the part of potential recipients—who might entertain the notion that philosophy were about ‘lecturing’, ‘assigning’, ‘initiating’, offering ‘guidance’, ‘prospects’, or ‘revelations’, inducing ‘optimism’ or ‘dread’—the (impersonal, implied) speaker here discerns an ‘attention deficit’, as is to be parried by virtue of descriptions.

|| 219 The first sentence, the observation it conveys, are indebted to Breuer’s drawing attention thereto (June 15, 2018; Akademie der Wissenschaften Mainz). On Blumenberg’s penchant for said linguistic device: “Das Impersonale ist ein Instrument zur Vermeidung ungeforderter Bestimmtheit”—with the context remarking upon a “Reduktion des logischen Subjekts”; while intimating a “Bedarf an dosierter Ungenauigkeit” (Gerade 132; cf. Beschreibung 788–789, 789n.; Unbegrifflichkeit 66; Quellen 210; as well as: “So denkt es sich”, Lebensthemen 136). Besides, one might attend to the conspicuous nexus with mortality in these instances: “Es stirbt sich” (Gerade 27; see, above all, Matthäuspassion 226). “Wie stirbt es sich” (Sorge 222; to say nothing of Lebensthemen 73). Tying in with a similarly inclined incipit (cf. Breuer Bekenntnisse 13), one might ask ‘who or what is this es’. See Alford as to another case where “the opening pronoun, ‘It’, [appears] deliberate in its indefinition” (Poetic Attention 41; infinitized). 220 A rare philosopher, who is not fond of a certain (‘I-here-now-no-other-way’) ‘protestance’; cf. the onset of ch. 10, herein. Ostentatious asserting tends to signal a want of that which is. 221 Ex negativo: “Das ist schon eine Beschreibung des Gegenphänomens der Aufmerksamkeit, der Ablenkung” (Sachen 199). Needless to say, a description of distraction tends to require attention. Then again, any apparent negligence (not to say unmindful thoughtlessness) marks a chance for renewed diligence, intent discipline. For variations thereon, see the onset of ch. 5.

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After Blumenberg’s inserted hedging ensues an accentuation of differing degrees (“nicht oder nicht deutlich genug”)—assorted forms of nuancing being characteristic of the descriptive craft (task and make), more generally.222 The overall passage is most artfully wrought, marked by varied repetitions— an arch-rhetorical device. Nor is this manifest in terms of semantics or syntax only; but also phonetically: in a partial paronomasia of “sieht”, “dispensiert”— which at once refers back to the polyptoton of the former, inflected verb with “gesehen”. In turn, the latter alliterates, consonates with the preceding “genug” (while also linking to the ensuing “gleichsam”, “geradezu”). Comparable interrelations of resemblance are already found in the first part of the segment cited: one could collocate “gelehrt”, “lernen”; a phonetic echo— with significative semantic associations—of the (grammatical) syllable ‹ge› in “gelehrt”, “aufgegeben”, “eingeführt”, “angeführt”, “eingejagt”. As this sequence may further evince, said sentence operates with another timeless tool of (lateral) oratory. Parallelism exploits the variability of affixes in “eingeführt […] angeführt”; given the context, a semantico-alliterative gradatio in the structurally complementary case of “versprochen […] verheißen”, as well. Nor will the fact that the “affective pair […] spes et metus” is a classic tópos (Lausberg Elemente 35, §70; trans. dsm) limit it to Latin. A potentially profuse field for scholarly labor: this concentrated segment is rhetorical outright—hardly in terms of elocutio only. Its consummate artfulness lies precisely in the fact that it might seem rather descriptive (celare artem).223 Said state of affairs also comprises the semantic latencies: “gelehrt” signals a general gesture of philosophy, especially of epistemology, or ethics (perhaps); “zu lernen aufgegeben” refers to pedagogics (the German implies ‘homework’); “eingeführt und […] angeführt” point to a certain propaedeutic; “versprochen” is unlikely not to insinuate something metaphysical; even as “verheißen”, “Hoffnung erweckt”, and “Furcht” will hint at the theological (sensu lato)—to the extent that the last two (‘eschato-logical’) disciplines are separable at all. A deductive approach inheres in any of the above. The thought or creed to be ‘taught’ or ‘promised’ is presumed, tacitly taken for granted. Precisely such a presuppositional procedure—followed by further deducing—is disqualified with || 222 As to the metalevel, cf. this performative remark on Blumenberg’s part: “Beschreiben läßt sich dies am ehesten” (Sachen 187). The Skeptico-approximative formula (e.g. at “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 91; Phänomen. 183; 320)—end focused in the citational sequence given—will be characteristic for a descriptive method (spec. in this philosopher); see the nexus with rhetoric (“Annäher. [2001]” 412). Cf. also subch. 11.3 (spec. 11.3.3), herein. 223 On ‘concealing the art’, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 29n.; 49; 65n.; 74; 103n.; 108n.; 110n.; 116n.; 127–128, 128n.; 156n.; 158; 165n.; 172n.; 186n.; 191n.; 197–199, 197n.–199n.).

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the emphatic “Statt dessen”. An inductive “Aufmerksammachen”—by way of “Beschreibung”—supplies the functional vacancy (Leerstelle). As to a form of induction in Aristotle, von Fritz has: “The partner [in dialog] is actually to be rendered attentive to something, which he [or she would] otherwise not see” (“Die ἐπαγωγή” 647; trans. dsm). Likewise in Blumenberg: ‘who does (or will) not discern, observe, mark a (perceivable) phenomenon— after its attentive portrayal—is exempted; for an attempt at swaying would downright disavow the description ex post facto’ (see Sachen 183).224 Even so, the philosopher has, if not been convincing, at least endeavored to make his position on non-teleological description appear sound or reasonable— not to say suasive.225 This may well be described; but perchance the perusal

|| 224 Inter alia, an inductive procedure parries the “query as to how he, who renders attentive by way of description, has arrived at his givens [‘Gegebenheiten’]”; meaning, a regressus: “We concentrate on him, who comes upon [literally: finds] the description of phenomena like a gift [‘Gabe’, etymologically tying in with ‘geben’, hence also: ‘datum’] of Nature[,] and then observe him in his further bearing” (Sachen 184–185; trans. dsm). Ritter’s (then Marquard’s) use of the term ‘hypólepsis’ may well seem applicable, here: one proceeds from (accessible) particulars, (current) customs. Cf. Mayfield thereto (“hypólepsis” passim; spec. 242n.; 243, 243n.; 246–248, 247n.; 273, 273n.). In the present context, Blumenberg glosses a remark with the significative phrase “wie es nicht ohne deskriptiven Anhalt redensartlich so schön heißt” (Sachen 185). “Solche sprachlich vorgegebene Tendenz der Beschreibung […] ist allerdings kein Beweis, wohl aber eine Art von Regelung der Beweislast: Wer es anders will, muß dagegen aufkommen” (Sachen 187). In said sense, the philosopher heuristico-hypoleptically ‘takes up and ties in with’ the linguistic usus; as does Aristotle, characteristically (cf. e.g. Rhet. 264–265, 1391b, II.xviii.2). This marks an ‘endoxic’, contextual form of arguing (see “Annäher. [2001]” 410; 412; 423; “Strukturanalysen” 487; Niehues-Pröbsting Einsicht 30; and Mayfield Ventriloquism 111n.– 112n., for further references). Incidentally, Blumenberg could seem to be using the Latinate term in another than the methodical sense (perhaps with electrotechnical, even biochemical undercurrents), when giving “the performance of a descriptive, Phenomenological philosophy as inducing attentiveness” (“die Leistung einer beschreibenden, phänomenologischen Philosophie als Induktion von Aufmerksamkeit”, Sachen 185; trans. dsm; cf. Phänomen. 357). The sense will be ‘Hinein- qua Herbei-Führung’ (from ‘in-ducere’). 225 See Sommer’s stressing the “Blickrichtung der Beschreibung” (Selbsterhalt. 158). Plus this observation (in an affine context): “Bei einer anschauungsgebundenen deskriptiven Theorie m[üssen] […] die Beschreibungen […] eine argumentative Funktion haben” (Sammeln 58). Generally as to the above, see Niehues-Pröbsting (“Glauben” 39–42; passim). In etymological respects, ‘con-vincere’ would (seem to) be the stronger term, since ‘per-suadere’ implies ‘suavis’ (cf. Eden in: Mayfield “Proceedings” 210; with Barnhart/Steinmetz 1082, s.v. ‘suasion’; and 781, s.v. ‘persuade’; but see also 217, s.v. ‘convince’; referring to: “that persuasion could but thus convince me”, Shakespeare TC 262, III.ii.159). Cf. subchs. 7.2.2, 8.2, and 13.3.2, herein. Whereas ‘über-reden’ is performed by a rhetorical agent (orator, writer) her- or himself, the German ‘über-zeugen’ implies a form of indirection, in that the ‘peíthein’ is performed by means (not to

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tendered was also more of an effort at rendering plausible a certain reading. All the same, producing convictions is not its purpose either. As Blumenberg implies in the subsequent segment, descriptions are literally ‘essayistic’—hence effectually plural: In [the case of] describing, there is not what there always is in [that of] persuading: that more might be said than seen. Who[ever] lodges the simple objection of saying: [‘]I do not see it[’], is in equilibrium with the description. Until the next try [‘Versuch’], he [or she] cannot be helped – and must not be[;] for maybe he [or she] is right, at the next try. Attentiveness is a form of freedom outright. (Sachen 183; trans. dsm)226

The word or name associable therewith is not given, here. Nor does Montaigne figure explicitly in Zu den Sachen und zurück. Yet the ‘essai-istic-ness’ of diverse, pluralistic descriptions insinuate said presence—structurally, generically, de re. The first line cited may seem problematic. In such situations, a rhétor would likely consider the heuristic device of a nékyia with eidolopoiía—to dialogically inquire of a departed thinker how he might have meant what he said or wrote.227 Should one be willing or able to briefly deprioritize observing the dexterity (Fingerfertigkeit) predictably involved, the surface message could ‘simply’ be that an(y) attempt at swaying or convincing tends to have something in petto: holding back, qualifying, being economical with (not to say, manipulating) relevant, needful, utile intelligence—maneuvers descriptive approaches cannot afford, as per their (scholarly) ethos, envisioned or potential effect. ‘When and while conviction is being in- or produced, more is said than seen’: this would appear to insinuate a difference in cognizance between a

|| say virtue) of witnesses, testification (‘Zeugen’). Cf. spec. Niehues-Pröbsting (“Glauben” 16–17; 19; 35–36; 40). At any rate, description will be less forceful, wherefore ‘con-vincing’ appears to be its very opposite indeed. Blumenberg lets its ‘suavity’ fall into a praeteritio: descriptive approaches tend to charm by not coming across as artful—hence seem suasive per se. 226 “Bei der Beschreibung gibt es nicht, was es bei der Überredung immer gibt: daß mehr gesagt als gesehen werden könnte. Wer die einzige Anmeldung von Widerspruch vollzieht zu sagen: Ich sehe es nicht, steht im Gleichgewicht zur Beschreibung. Ihm kann, bis zum nächsten Versuch, nicht geholfen werden – und darf es nicht, denn vielleicht bekommt er recht, beim nächsten Versuch. Aufmerksamkeit ist geradezu eine Form von Freiheit”. Cf. “durch Beschreibung weiter und genauer […], das Raster der deskriptiven Mittel zu verfeinern, und dies immer im Hinblick auf das noch anstehende und unerledigte Veto dessen, der nicht oder nur anders zu sehen vermag” (Phänomen. 222). On ‘refinement’, see Blumenberg (Beschreibung 190); with Zambon (“Nachwort [2018]” 513). 227 Generally, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 27; 31, 31n.–32n.; 36n.; 53n.; 86n.–87n.; 89n.; 138n.; 142n.–143n.; 156, 156n.; 158; 165n.; 166, 166n.–167n.). See the onset of subch. 5.2; and 10.1.

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(rhetorical) agent and the corresponding ‘targets’; meaning, between the former’s state of knowledge and that on the part of those to be swayed. Yet upon closer scrutiny (Fingerschau), Blumenberg may seem to be saying that everything included in the description is also seen. Should this be the de dicto indeed, an equivalence between the medium (a semiotizing description) and effect (Anschauung) would virtually be suggested (videatur), which may well look fairly questionable (if not reasonably unpersuasive).228 The sentence complementary to the one just given—‘while and when describing, nothing more is said than seen’—would ultimately signify that saying and seeing be one.229 Most likely, that ‘being’ is rather a ‘seeming’: || 228 One might also incline towards inquiring whether the overall description must be ‘underwritten’ (subscribed to, countersigned, endorsed) by the resp. recipient; or whether there may be aspects along its limning path that could be (tacitly, even expressly) passed over or by, sans calling the entire Beschreibung into doubt or question—to say naught of challenging it. Blumenberg’s Humanist honing of the Nietzschean sledge may well hint in this direction (Sachen 154; see subch. 5.2.3). In any case, the method aims at manufacturing ‘momentaneous evidence’ (with apparent artlessness); and such is rhetorical: “Anschaulichkeit […] tyrannisiert und kanalisiert auch das Selbstverständnis und Weltverhältnis des Menschen, steigert seine Verführbarkeit durch das schnell und sinnenfällig Einleuchtende” (Kopernikus [1965] 367–368; see “geballte Evidenzversuche”, Phänomen. 184; plus: “die Dichte der […] Deskription”, zur Literatur 93; “Mächtigkeit des Eindrucks”, Realität 10; with 44–45, 51). In said craft, “dilucida et significans descriptio” (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 58, 9.2.44; cf. 58n.) pertains to evidentia (enárgeia)— a vivid “sub oculos subiectio”—which Quintilian gives as “proposita quaedam forma rerum ita expressa verbis ut cerni potius videantur quam audiri” (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 56, 9.2.40). “Descriptio nominatur quae rerum consequentium continet perspicuam et dilucidam cum gravitate expositionem” (Rhet. ad Her. 356–357, IV.xxxix.51). Halsall has: descriptio “bezeichnet die kunstvolle Beschreibung” (“Descriptio” 549); he notes the nexus with evidentia (at “Descriptio” 550; “Beschreibung” 1495–1496). On the latter, cf. Asmuth (spec. “Anschaulichkeit” 163–170); as well as Lausberg, on the relation between “perspicuitas” and ‘attentiveness’ (Handbuch 275, §529). Enargically, Sommer stresses a potential “Dramatik der Deskription” (Zeitbewußtsein 182). With respect to Lactantius, Blumenberg formulates this aureate sentence: “Der Glanz der Diktion soll als der Glanz der Wahrheit selbst, als die unvermittelte und ungekünstelte Selbsttransposition der Sache in Sprache verstanden werden” (“Strukturanalysen” 497; see “Dramatisierungsbedürfnis”, 496). Not to mention transubstantiation. 229 Cf. Sommer, as to “was den phänomenologischen Text, der Idee nach, ohnehin stets auszeichnet: daß in ihm die Darstellung der Sache selbst eins wird mit der Selbstdarstellung der Sache” (Zeitbewußtsein 199). Tellingly, the arch-Phenomenologist has recourse to the rhetorical tool of prosopopoiía to effect said momentaneous (self-)evidence (see Zeitbewußtsein 198–199). As Sommer explicates, this supposed coincidentia is an upshot of a self-reflexively Platonizing cogito: “Indem Husserl eidetisch reflektiert, platonische Wesensschau und cartesianische Selbstbetrachtung übt, sieht er, was er beschreibt, und ist er, was er beschreibt” (Zeitbewußtsein 206; with 205; Zambon “Nachwort [2018]” 514). Blumenberg’s thoughts on a (characteristically) Husserlian conundrum are distilled into the brief essay “Worte und

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“Semper mens est potentior quam sint verba (Mattesilano)”—“Ever is thought mightier than are words” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 145; trans. dsm).230 Be that as it may. A stance uncritical of the medium—forgetting rhetoric, leaving language itself unquestioned—could not plausibly be expected from this philosopher extraordinaire.231 Withal, describing is a decidedly vectorial process. For its potential and corresponding consequence of “attentiveness” is explicitly given “as that which philosophy is to[,] and maybe can[,] effect and sharpen in the disposition of the consciousness” (Sachen 189; trans. dsm).232 This would imply a (psychagogic) directedness with a view to an alter; and so, all but inevitably, a reasonable measure of rhetoricity.233 Attentiveness is expressly something to be crafted (a poetics, then).234 It will therefore be selective in terms of oikonomía (to say the least); ever contextual,

|| Sachen” (Lebensthemen 136–138). Spec. “Also auch dieses letzte Mal hatte er etwas gesehen und konnte es nicht sagen” (Lebensthemen 136). Hence “das Kardinalproblem dieses Lebens […]: Anschauung sollte die Rechtfertigung aller Begriffe sein, Eindeutigkeit zwischen Worten und Sachen bestehen, indem die identische Benennung die äquivalente Gegebenheit verbürgte. Wie aber ließ sich feststellen, daß identisch benannte Anschauungen dem Gleichheitserfordernis genügten? Die Antwort […]: durch Beschreibung. Das sagte sich leicht und war schwer zu tun. […] Daß es eine ‘unendliche Arbeit’ sein würde […] war Ergebnis des eingeleiteten Arbeitsganges selbst. Auf dem Gesehenen lastete die Pflicht, es zu sagen, als eine uneinholbare Differenz” (Lebensthemen 137). As to the above issue, see Blumenberg’s ensuing answers. Being asked ‘what he considered the most consummate happiness in this world’, he replied: “Sagen zu können, was ich sehe” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260). Questioned as to ‘his greatest flaw or error’, he stated: “Nicht genau genug sagen zu können, was ich sehe” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260). See Sommer thereto (“Zu keiner Zeit” 83, with 77). 230 Cf. “Das Denken ist immer mächtiger als die Sprache” (zur Technik 271). 231 His ideologized epigones being another matter entirely. See also subch. 11.1.3, herein. 232 “Aufmerksamkeit als das, was Philosophie an der Einstellung des Bewußtseins zu bewirken und anzuschärfen hat und vielleicht vermag”. Cf. “Die beschreibende ‘Einstellung’” (Lebenszeit 23); with a telling concession: “Selbstverständlich geht es nicht nach dem Bedarf, sondern nach der Sachlage. Nichtsdestotrotz ist wichtig zu sehen, wie Beschreibung und Funktion einander entsprechen oder widersprechen” (Phänomen. 374; plus 183). The fact “that every realism can be instrumentalized” (“Vorbemerkungen” 3; trans. dsm) holds good for activities aiming at “laying bare primary [(virtually) visuo-vivid] perception” (“primäre[…] Anschaulichkeit freizulegen”, “Vorbemerkungen” 4; trans. dsm). Even so: ‘rhetoric capacitates discernment thereof’ (cf. “Annäher. [2001]” 423). See subchs. 8.1, 11.1.3, 12.3, 13.1, herein. 233 Contrast Sommer’s angle, with its Idealist presuppositions: “rein immanente Rhetorik. […] Darstellungsrhetorik […] hat […] keine Appellfunktion, keinen Aufforderungscharakter, keine Wirkungsabsicht” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 84; with 82). The unworldliness of a Kantian aesthetics conduces to forgetting the—decidedly pragmatic—art par excellence. 234 Cf. Alford (Poetic Attention 8–9; as well as her title). Any endorsement of Kant’s notorious innocence (“fundamentally noninstrumental”, “not in the service of rhetorical persuasion”,

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as a result of the unavoidable semiotization (encompassing its socio-associative implications); hence ultimately eloquent, not to say suasive.235 Like the root of attempts at drawing it, the (tenacious) arché of attention will be hedoné.236 While retaining the pleasure, an—unworldly, pragmatically pointless—way out would be that of reducing the respective alter to a minimum.237 In contrast to

|| Poetic Attention 8; cf. 282n.–283n.) cannot but seem as laudable as unworldly. Consistently, the scholar retracts in her coda (Poetic Attention 276–277). See subch. 12.4 with ch. 13, herein. 235 See also: “Beschreibung beruht dann auf Anschauung, wenn sie Anschauung herzustellen ermöglicht” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 170). “Beschreibung enthält die Evidenz nicht, sie ermöglicht nur ihre authentische Erzeugung” (Lebenszeit 328). Qua ‘product’, the act and agent of ‘producing’ are implied (to say the least). Since ‘description works with a view to rendering someone attentive of something’, a “descriptive pointing [‘Zeigen’]” tends to be involved; and such ‘indicative description’ has a (‘semeiotic’) “intention” (Sachen 182–183; trans. dsm). It is a vectorial—appellative, ‘conative’ (in Jakobson’s taxonomy, “Linguistics” 67–68)—process, to the extent of being directed at, even just related to, a corresponding counterpart (or several). Cf. Blumenberg on the Phenomenological view of “Intentionalität”: “Das Bewußtsein ist eine sinnvoll gerichtete Leistungsstruktur, durchwirkt von einer unablässigen Zielstrebigkeit” (Wirklichkeiten 18; Lebenswelt 193). A given alter (incl. the resp. present, tempo-corporal self) may become—and, in the everyday, lifeworldly circumstances of an animal sociale, will tend to be—the ‘target’ of such ‘directedness’. In terms of oikonomía, the very context seems telling (cf. Niehues-Pröbsting Einsicht 31–32), wherein Blumenberg contemplates whether descriptions are rhetorical—qua alter-related, ulteriorly motivated—always already: “Man kann die ganze Spekulation als bloßes Beiwerk der Beschreibung betrachten. […] Verstärkung der Deskription, Nachhilfe bei ihren Mitteln – also so etwas, was es gar nicht geben dürfte. Rhetorik der Beschreibung” (Sachen 170; see “Rhetorik der Phänomenologie”, Beschreibung 318). On the latter, cf. Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 182–183). Serendipitously, Braun reports Blumenberg’s rejoinder “daß deskriptive Begriffe zur Erfassung historischer Sachverhalte nur scheinbar wertneutral seien” (333). See Strauss: “we must not overlook the invisible value judgments […] most powerfully present in allegedly purely descriptive concepts” (What is Political 21). 236 Cf. Schaeffer: “the aesthetic relationship is a form of human conduct in which the playing out of attention (perceptive, linguistic, etc.) is the central concern. The decisive factor in the success or failure of an aesthetic experience is […] whether or not the attention that we invest […] is satisfying or not. […] The properties of the object […] are important to the extent that attending to them is satisfying” (“Literary Studies” 279). An(y) “attentional investment” ultimately aims at gratification—is “compensated for by the pleasure taken” (“Literary Studies” 279–280). While such will naturally vary from one body to the next (in terms of intensity, duration, retention, etc.), the elemental effect of “hermetic writing” in a “library” would hardly differ from that of “long meanders, noticing things, afternoons without agenda” (Alford Poetic Attention 268–269). Be it descriptive, poetic, or otherwise—(paying, giving, drawing, striking, capturing, commanding, affording) attention is downright hedonistic at core. 237 Human beings are contingencies to one another; see the onset of ch. 4; subchs. 4.4, 6.5, 8.5.2, spec. 13.5, herein. Husserl’s Phenomenological Reduction is an attempt at spiriting away the accidental: “Freilich ist auch für HUSSERL die Tatsache, daß eine Welt existiert, zufällig,

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concepts, “[(noetically) visuo-vivid] perception […] can in no way be taught [‘beigebracht’], only attained to on one’s own” (Sachen 184; trans. dsm).238 In view of this Aristotelian accent (‘hemin’), an inductive approach is called for.239 To avert its coming down to self-persuasion, Blumenberg adapts the modus: If not taught [‘beigebracht’, also: ‘procured (in evidence)’, literally: ‘brought nearby’], then certainly and at least ‘made [noetically] accessible [‘nahegebracht’, ‘brought near’]’. (Sachen 184; trans. dsm).240

The processual, gradual, approximative quality of the descriptive performance (reflected in the very terms used) is further accentuated, specifically as regards the ‘manufacturing’—not to say, the ‘(Üb)Erzeugung’—involved: The wariness of the expression ‘nearness [‘Nähe’]’ implies the hesitation with regard to speaking of a ‘method’ as denotes the starting and end point of a path in pursuit of a matter. Proximity [‘Nähe’] is produced by way of approximation [‘Annäherung’], which consists in whetting the attention[,] and which constitutes the asymptotic procedure of a description always susceptible of being refined. (Sachen 184; trans. dsm)241

|| doch unternimmt […] [er] den Versuch, die Kontingenz aus der Welt hinauszuschieben” (Fellmann “Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 258). As to a routine proclivity for this maneuver on the part of ‘philosophers’, see Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 34; 45–47; spec. 113–114; 163). 238 “Anschauung […] kann auf keine Weise beigebracht, nur selbst gewonnen werden”. Cf. “Beigebracht, nach Manier gelehrt und gelernt werden können nur Begriffe”—followed by a polemic: “Sie sind Anweisungen darauf und dazu, zugleich mit der Vorschrift versehen, die Anweisung müsse bis auf weiteres für die Sache selbst genommen werden bei Strafe des Zeitverlustes und Androhung des Ausscheidens aus dem Zusammenhang derer, die im Begriffsgebrauch ihre Disziplin ausüben und ihr genügen zu können glauben” (Sachen 184). Cf. Schopenhauer: “Zudem sind a u f g e s c h r i e b e n e G e d a n k e n nichts mehr als die Spur eines Spaziergängers im Sande: man sieht wohl den Weg den er genommen hat, aber um zu wissen was er auf dem Wege gesehn, muß man seine eignen Augen gebrauchen” (“Foliant II.” 311, §168, [246]). Not to mention the burdens borne. 239 Cf. “the natural road (ὁδός) for the investigation of the physical world ‘must lie from what is more immediately cognizable and clear to us (ἡμῖν), to what is clearer and more intimately cognizable in its own nature (ἁπλῶς)’”; “‘it is proper to start from what is known to us (ἡμῖν)’” (Trimpi “Reason” 108). Applied to the case at hand: “eine der Formeln für Phänomenologie [‘ist’] selbst zu beschreiben, was ‘in einer Sache liegt’” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 153). “Der Leser ist aufgefordert, selbst sich den ‘Sachen’ zu nähern, deren Beschreibung sie nie ersetzen kann” (Beschreibung 264). Ergo: “an die Arbeit ‘Zu den Sachen!’ zu gehen” (Beschreibung 223). 240 “Wenn nicht beigebracht, dann allerdings und wenigstens ‘nahegebracht’”. Cf. “In aller Rhetorik steckt die Gefahr der Selbstüberredung, auch und erst recht der philosophischen” (Wirklichkeiten 5; “liegt aller Rhetorik im Außenverhältnis zugrunde”, “Annäher. [2001]” 431). 241 “In der Vorsicht des Ausdrucks ‘Nähe’ liegt das Zögern, von einer ‘Methode’ zu sprechen, die Ausgangspunkt und Endpunkt eines Weges im Verfolg der Sache bezeichnet. Nähe wird

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This links to a remark in another place: “Descriptive procedures”—as most scholarly ones—“easily cause [literally: allow] the measure of attentiveness […] invested into them to be overlooked” (Lebenswelt 172; trans. dsm; see “LifeWorld” 437).242 Such would amount to a justification for legibly limning the performance of descriptions. It remains ‘limitless labor’ (‘unendliche Arbeit’).243

|| hergestellt durch die Annäherung, die in der Verschärfung der Aufmerksamkeit besteht und die asymptotische Prozedur der immer verfeinerungsfähigen Beschreibung ausmacht”. “Sache” also signifies ‘issue, case, sake, res’. Blumenberg’s wariness is due to the Cartesian use of said term (cf. “Endleistung der ‘Methode’”, “Annäher. [2001]” 411). In the above, there is a (partly) latent metaphor at play: “Verschärfung” and “[V]erfeinerung[…]” might also be related to one another, whereby a certain material (such as metal) is being ‘well-honed’; hence ‘keen’, ‘sharp’—figuratively accentuating the acuity of attention. Cf. “unablässige[…] Verschärfungen und Verfeinerungen” (Beschreibung 190); with Horace: “limae labor et mora” (“Ars Poetica” 474, v.291). As to approximation, see e.g. these formulations: “‘Gradation’ […] als Grundmotiv” (“Recht des Scheins” 424; plus 425). “Damit könnte näherungsweise beschrieben sein” (Arbeit 15; with 159, 776); “an die Schwelle der Beschreibbarkeit heranzuführen” (Lebenszeit 11). “Annäherungen an deskriptive Befunde” (Lebenszeit 43; cf. Lebensthemen 138); spec. “auf dem Wege der mühsamen Annäherung” (Arbeit 35; with Beschreibung 261; also: 150; 245; 285); “halbwegiger, annähernder” (Phänomen. 29; generally, 295, 308, 325, 352, 460, 564, 568); “allenfalls nur Tangenten” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 145; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 120); “nur annähern” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 149; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 149). “Tendenzen bei Annäherung an” (Lesbarkeit 162). “Es gibt Annäherungen” (“Glossen [1983]” 39). See this pertinent density of the term(s) in question: “tendenziell […] Tendenz auf” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 149; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 126); “dieses Tendenzielle […] beschreiben […] tendiert […] diese Tendenz lässt sich erfassen […] Tendenz zur […] Tendenz der […] Tendenz auf” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 148; with 154; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 124–125; plus 134). See the title of Blumenberg’s rhetorical ‘treatise’ (“Annäher. [2001]” 406; with 415, 427, 431; and “Approccio” 49; “Approach” 429; “aproximación” 115). Cf. Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 235). 242 “Deskriptive Verfahren lassen das Maß an Voraussetzungen der Aufmerksamkeit, das in ihnen investiert ist, leicht übersehen”. Cf. Alford: “the labor of attention” (Poetic Attention 49). 243 Here: “sich zur unendlichen Aufgabe machen”; spec. “[ein]en beliebigen Gegenstand” (Sachen 199). Elsewhere also: “Arbeit in der Deskription” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 115)—functionalized with a view to an effectual fallout. Blumenberg’s œuvre is permeated by (not to say, replete with) references to Husserl’s “‘unendliche Arbeit’” (GKW II. 473)—intimating another (and paramount) case of vicarious auto-ethopoiía: “die Rede von unendlicher Arbeit und unendlichen Aufgaben zieht sich durch das ganze Werk des Begründers der Phänomenologie. […] Unendlichkeit der Arbeit”; “überhaupt ist ‘Arbeit’ eines der charakteristischen Wörter der Sprache Husserls”; “einer Unendlichkeit der geforderten theoretischen Arbeit” (zur Technik 193; Lebenswelt 214, plus 214n.; Wirklichkeiten 40–41; 53n.). “Auch der fast schwelgerische Plural ist bezeichnend: wahre Unendlichkeiten deskriptiver Arbeit” (zur Technik 193n., see 194; Lebenswelt 214, 214n.; Wirklichkeiten 53n.; and 40). Cf. “Der Phänomenologe […] ein in der ‘unendlichen Arbeit’ begriffener [‘Zuschauer’]” (Höhlen. 715); “unendliche Aufgabe” (Sachen 146; with 112; zur Technik 194; 197–198, 201–202; GKW III. 656; Lebenswelt 219; Wirklichkeiten

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5.2.3 In(to) the Balance: Gegen-Darstellungen The philosopher believes the value of his philosophy to lie in the whole, in the construct [and -ion, ‘Bau’]: posterity finds it in the stone, wherewith he built[.] —Nietzsche (Menschliches [KSA 2] 46, II.1.201)244 Jeder wissenschaftliche Satz ist ein Ende, ein Erzieltes, aber jeder ist zugleich Material für die weitere wissenschaftliche Arbeit[.] —Husserl (Husserliana VI. 507, suppl. XXXVII re §73)245 Wir haben gelernt, durch diesen Einen, mehr zu sehen[.] —Blumenberg (Lebensthemen 138)246

|| 45–46; Phänomen. 350; de re, Friedrich Montaigne [1993] 11). “Unablässigkeit der Arbeit” (Sachen 35); “‘unendliche Arbeit’” (Lebensthemen 137; see 132, 138; “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 83; GKW II. 473; Verführbarkeit 148; Beschreibung 263; Wirklichkeiten 5; Phänomen. 505). This is but a fraction of the instances. Cf. Nietzsche (KSA 11. 20, §25[36]); Sommer (Evidenz 295); Fellmann (“Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 238; 255); Waldenfels (65). The overall notion is Ancient. See e.g. Democritus: “ἐργαζόμενοι ὡς ἀεὶ βιωσόμενοι” (in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 190, 68B227). Livy opens his opus magnum thus: “Res est praeterea et inmensi operis” (Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 2, I.Praef.). A resigned variant: “et labor interminabilis” (Nicole Oresme, qtd. in: Blumenberg Legitimität 409). To say naught of Gen 3:19. 244 With context: “I r r t h u m d e r P h i l o s o p h e n. — Der Philosoph glaubt, der Werth seiner Philosophie liege im Ganzen, im Bau: die Nachwelt findet ihn im Stein, mit dem er baute und mit dem, von da an, noch oft und besser gebaut wird: also darin, dass jener Bau zerstört werden kann und d o c h n o c h als Material Werth hat” (Menschliches [KSA 2] 46, II.1.201). Cf. spec. Nietzsche’s accent on playfulness in this respect (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 153, §24; with Heracleitus; see Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 162, 22B52); hence also subch. 10.4, herein. 245 “Every scientific [or: scholarly] sentence is an end, an attainment [sc. of a target], but simultaneously each is material for further scientific [or: scholarly] labor” (trans. dsm). See the (unrhetorical) setting: “Ein Kunstwerk […] ist nicht Material und soll nicht Material sein für den Bau neuer Kunstwerke. […] Kunstwerke bauen sich nicht aus Kunstwerken. […] Was von Kunstwerken gilt, gilt natürlich von ‘Handwerken’. […] der ursprüngliche Gebrauch vom Kunstwerk […] [‘ist’] nicht, damit etwas zu machen, geschweige denn, neue Kunstwerke daraus zu schaffen. Anders hinsichtlich der Wissenschaft” (Husserliana VI. 506–507, suppl. XXXVII re §73; even so: “Die einen sehen die Philosophien wie Kunstwerke großer künstlerischer Geister an”, 508, suppl. XXXVIII; cf. “Philosophie als Begriffskunstwerk”, Blumenberg Quellen 44). 246 “We have learnt to see more by way of this one [i.e. this singular thinker]” (trans. dsm); a remark on Husserl’s—eventually indeed vicarious, delegative—labor. At once, it marks another of Blumenberg’s indirect auto-ethopoiíai: given its inclusion in a booklet on ‘vital thémata’; but also due to his plainly time-consuming, laborious, lifelong ‘rapprochements’ with the former’s œuvre (cf. Lebensthemen 136). Sommer spells it out for the authorial case: “Meistens aber bin ich in der Beschreibung […] der allgemeine […] Repräsentant eines jeden von uns” (Suchen 10; with context). He sees a nexus between “Beschreibungen” and the ‘endeavor to direct the attention of others’ (“die Aufmerksamkeit anderer […] zu lenken suchen”, Suchen 153).

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As with rhetoric’s, Aristotle’s, or Montaigne’s modi operandi, Blumenberg proceeds inductively, from particulars—in their very contingency, peculiarity, diverse variants, polysemous and -valent contexts (as described in 5.1.1, 5.2.1). Heuristically tying in with what happens to be given, said approach conduces to more general statements of a provisional and tentative quality (see 5.2.2).247 Taking its bearings from distinct and specific data—expressly with a view to advancing toward (conceivably, potentially) more ‘universal’ planes—induction points and leads the way. It marks the methodical groundwork for countless, assorted indirections; for the depth and density of detail; for the sheer extent of Blumenberg’s works, his overall œuvre, the Nachlass gradually welling up.248 Whether in said philosopher, Montaigne, Aristotle, or the art of rhetoric, the inductive method not only finds application as regards the most momentaneous givens—aisthéseis, sensory perceptions of differing degree or nature. It also proves functional with respect to culturally mediated material, such as previous descriptive performances; and especially as concerns definitions (routinely, tyrannically) decreed to be ultimate, absolute.249 In this way, the philosopher is methodically enabled to assemble, assess, associate (not to say, amass); collect, compile, cultivate (performing the human

|| 247 Cf. “noch etwas vorläufiger gesagt” (Blumenberg Wirklichkeiten 12); “heuristische[…] Brauchbarkeit” (M. Sommer Suchen 7; cf. 11). For comparable terms, see Heidgen/Koch/Köhler (9–19). As to the philosopher’s hypoleptico-inductive praxis, cf. Zambon: “Seine Schriften beginnen oft mit Zitaten oder einer Anekdote, die er deutet, um daraus einen Leitfaden zu spinnen, der sodann in die Ausgestaltung weiterer Argumente eingewoben wird” (“Nachwort [2018]” 515; see Blumenberg “Ordnungsschwund” 40). 248 Cf. the onset of ch. 11; as well as 11.1.2 and 11.2.1, herein. 249 As to structural—here spec. spatio-distantial, (haptico-visually) ‘kinesthetic’—equivalents of this epagogic movement (from an immediate, present, situative plane to a virtually universal one), see Blumenberg (Sachen 50; 55). In his ‘(methodical) Nach-Gang’ (cf. “Methode” 133–134; Lebensthemen 138)—“durch Nachvollzug schon geleisteter Beschreibung” (Phänomen. 222), “aufmerksamen Mitvollzug” (“Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 84)—the philosopher’s poeticohermeneutic, noetico-descriptive ‘reenactment’ also takes previous descriptions as data. He subjects such “Beschreibungen” to (free) variation, precisely by ‘deprioritizing’ the “faktischhistorischen Status des Problems” with a view to the “Potential solcher Analysen”; from (diachronic) givens, Blumenberg thus elicits the latencies, more general implications: “die Explikation von immanenten Tendenzen” (Sachen 58; cf. M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 902). “Phenomenology” itself is “contingent”, a “product of” its spec. historical “situation” (Blumenberg Sachen 18; trans. dsm). See ch. 12.2; with Sommer: “die Anwendung der freien Variation nicht nur in der Phänomenologie, sondern auch auf die Phänomenologie” (Evidenz 9; plus 101, 190). The latter “muß mit ihrer […] Beschreibung stets an […] Anschauung anknüpfen oder sie […] bereitstellen” (Zeitbewußtsein 182; with 189–190; “benutzt das, was uns zufällig vorliegt, als Ausgangsbasis”, 200; cf. “[d]as empirisch Vorfindliche”, Blumenberg Arbeit 179).

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task par excellence); pursue, peruse, (re)present—and therewith delegate to others for further scrutiny—myriad, manifold remarks, or variform views, on innumerable themes and topics, by which the studia humanitatis, in their diverse, diachronically accrued subfields, may seem to be virtually ‘flooded’.250 Taking this polymorphous plurality qua cultural copia, samples of what (at certain points in time) are presumed to be the last word on a matter—while remaining protean in fact—may in turn serve as inductive points of departure.251 “Nietzsche said”—and Blumenberg records—that “the philosopher believes the value of his philosophy to lie in the construction of the whole, while posterity finds it in the stone, with which he had built and wherewith building is possible still [and] often” (Sachen 154; trans. dsm).252 The contingent—transtemporal, -disciplinary, and -personal—plenitude of thoughts, words, and views (to say nothing of ‘divinous’ verities) is itself a wide field of action and labor for an inductive method: dicta are phainómena also. Blumenberg accentuates a “manifoldness of the description” (“Vielfalt der Deskription”, Lesbarkeit 408; trans. dsm). It parries a ‘definitionous’ state of play. ‘Defusing’ (see Schaeffer Why Fiction? xiv) the teleological levels of escalation typical of deductive tendencies—apodictic, schematist, ideo-criticoradical, absolutist, tyrannous—the emphatically descriptive procedure on the present philosopher’s part might be characterized as a counter performance.253 || 250 “Der Mensch der Neuzeit ist das überflutete Wesen” (“Vorbemerkungen” 9; with 8). “Anhäufungen von Erfahrungen und Beobachtungen” (Kopernikus [1965] 360n.). Cf. Sommer (Zeitbewußtsein 219; 235–236). On the laboriousness of Blumenberg’s inductive reading, see H. Ritter (“Der Arbeiter” 33). Wryly, the former polemicizes against ‘professionals’ as prefer to dispense with a scholarly apparatus, thereby to ‘prevent even the conceivability’ of their not being ‘sheerly original’ (Phänomen. 185). Indeed. 251 Generally, cf. Blumenberg on Goethe and Valéry (“‘Mon Faust’” 52). In the above sense, the method is the message (as described in subch. 5.2.1, applied in 5.2.2, and condensed into the incipit). See Sommer’s relevant formulation in an affine setting: “Anhaltspunkt[e] oder Leitf[ä]den für weitere Überlegungen” (Übergang 14; pluralized). On the varieties of scientific jargons or scholarly taxonomies, see Blumenberg (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 148). 252 “Nietzsche hat gesagt, der Philosoph glaube, der Wert seiner Philosophie liege im Bau des Ganzen, während die Nachwelt ihn im Stein fände, mit dem er gebaut hatte und mit dem noch oft gebaut werden kann”. Cf. “Es ist, als ob erst in der Zertrümmerung ihres genuinen Gefüges die Ideen potent werden” (“Kosmos” 80). In said context, Blumenberg takes care to qualify Nietzsche’s—characteristically ‘hammering’—dictum: “Die Brutalität des Bildes überzieht. Der Stein, die Einzelheit, das Teilstück können auch im Ganzen betrachtet werden, ohne daß dieses zerstört werden muß, und sogar mit Gewinn für Würde und Wirkung des Ganzen” (Sachen 154). Variously (incl. figuratively) tying in with a felicitous formula on Sommer’s part, one might say: “[es] tut […] [ihrer] heuristischen Brauchbarkeit keinen Abbruch” (Suchen 7). 253 Balmer describes “die europäische Moralistik” qua “Gegenkraft gegen die teleologische

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Beschreibung—precisely its indirection, inductivity, interminability (being ‘limitless labor’, legibly)—rejects ‘methodo-logies’ as deprioritize sincerity, due diligence, scholarly probity, equity; as presuppose the objective without respect to the path (or at its expense).254 It renounces the louche lure of ideologies that put up, prescribe, stipulate their target state or quota thetically—sans recourse to, and dependence on, contingent particulars (or at their cost).255 Rejoining to a (purportedly) ‘philosophical’ source state ‘beset and satiated with schematisms, deductions, definitions’, Blumenberg’s Beschreibungskunst may well be motivated as a counter statement (Gegen-Darstellung) outright— artfully wrought by someone, who also and likewise “desires [and will do] nothing but plainway describe” (Lebenszeit 31; trans. dsm).256

|| Fixierung der metaphysischen Philosophie” (14; cf. spec. 65). With respect to textual products, Penzkofer comparably accentuates “die besondere Notwendigkeit, die Beschreibung […] aus einer Evolutionsteleologie zu befreien, die den Fortgang der (Literatur-)Geschichte von ihrem Ende her motivieren will” (‘L’art du mensonge’ 19; infinitized). 254 As Blumenberg observes with respect to Descartes, the very definit(iv)eness demanded of the ‘goal’ could not but result in an infinitization of the ‘path’: “Vor das Ziel schob sich der Weg, die Methode […]. Der Absolutismus des Vorläufigen, der Mittel und Werkzeuge brach an. […] Im absoluten Anspruch der cartesischen Methode liegt, anfänglich unvermerkt, die Konsequenz beschlossen, daß die Methode selbst zur unendlichen wird und ihre genuine Teleologie verliert” (“Methode” 141). Waiving any ‘absolute claims’—foregoing the quasi ‘monotheism’ of having but one sole objective—may yield the effect of nearing the resp. relevant mark along the way, by degrees, in passing. 255 Approaching manifold topics poly-perspectivally is a most toilsome process of endless descriptivity: “Immer wieder […] … Das ist die eigentümliche Prozeßordnung zwischen Worten und Sachen” (Blumenberg, with Husserl: Lebensthemen 138; cf. M. Sommer Zeitbewußtsein 234–235; Fellmann “Wissenschaft als Beschreibung” 261). Per ‘definitionem’, the latter and same aim to craft an appearance of the ‘finite’—of delimitation, consummation, termination, solidification (see Blumenberg’s remarks on “‘Definitionsmacht’”, Sorge 92). Descriptiveness is ‘open’ in terms of its results (cf. “Möglichkeit [2001]” 52, 52n.; with M. Sommer “Wirklichkeit” 35); potentially impartial; amenable to, receptive of, variation or delegative development. It is ever extendable, generally augmentable. The provisional, tentative, makeshift, the contingent (‘always also otherwise’) is not only a stylistic device and strategy. These mark Blumenberg’s modus operandi per se; his way of proceeding—of working. See subch. 5.1.2, herein. 256 “nichts anderes als schlichtweg beschreiben will”. The suffix is used as otherwise in ‘straightway’; figuratively, “schlichtweg” signifies ‘simply’; hence the ‘trailfulness’ is also linguistically involved. Beschreibung is both the path and the program: inter alia, Blumenberg speaks of “describing something under the title [of] ‘work on myth’” (Arbeit 13; trans. dsm). Withal, the procedure as such is a self-statement—and of purpose. Said descriptive process is the course or hodós, and proceeding per se the moving target—a horizon-like télos. This tendency itself leads the way: Blumenberg’s method is (also) a missive in a scholarly relay, delegating the diachronic diligence due.

| Mise en Scène Narrating and Staging Contingency

6 Contingency and Cynicism in Celestina wohin das Konzept einer kontingenten Welt das Denken treibt. —Küpper (“Ordnung” 200)1

With a view to tentatively superstructuring this study’s applicative readings, the latter are distributed into two parts of four chapters each. Describing rhetoricodramatic mises en scène of elsewiseness, the third provisionally comprises segments 6 to 9. The fourth—concerned with philosophistics qua opposition to, and exploitation of, contingency—may be taken to cover sections 10 through 13. Consorting the literary, as well as the more philosophical chapters, this rudimentary layout is offered for heuristic purposes—in order to facilitate a basic and general taking of bearings. Not only is any endorsement of the corresponding dichotomy foregone; it is expressly contested. To reaccentuate the contingency of arrangements, the next paragraphs tender another, alternative organization into three—equally provisional— methodico-thematic clusters: videlicet, chapters 6 to 8; 9 to 11; 12 and 13. Beginning from the end, the readings in the twelfth and thirteenth are of supra- or transtemporal import; hence target more general planes in the main. In consequence of this focus on the kathólou, attention is given to philosophers such as Kant, Husserl, Blumenberg; as well as to theoreticians of a politic (Machiavelli, Gracián) and poetic (Poe, Valéry) cast. Elsewise, the second cluster (9, 10, 11) approaches the nexus of rhetoric and contingency in a maximally diachronic perspective—from Greco-Roman Antiquity to the present. Hence recourse is had to Ancient writers, Plato, Aristotle, Epicurus, Cicero, Horace, Seneca, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, inter alia; and to ‘Modern’ ones, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Pater, Wilde, Fontane, Benn, Wittgenstein, Marquard, Blumenberg, among others. The first cluster (6, 7, 8) has the most specific ‘fingerprint’, seeing that it concentrates on Early Modern texts primarily (while never only). With attention to little things or latencies in the details, the seventh chapter targets various—especially Renaissance—refunctionalizations of a notorious Ancient myth: here, in Machiavelli’s Mandragola, Shakespeare’s Lucrece. The eighth considers the expediency of diverse forms of rhetorical contradiction for the poetics of Augustine, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, and Gracián, inter alia. Containing ‘technical’ or taxonomic subsections, said chapter also strikes a bridge to the more theoretical and kathólou ones toward the end (12 and 13). || 1 “whither the concept of a contingent world drives thought” (trans. dsm). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-006

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Prima facie a local and specific reading, the application immediately at hand concerns one of the most iconic and notorious texts ever to have emerged from the rich fund of the Iberian Peninsula.2 Its very peculiarity was of translingual, pan-European repercussions quasi instantaneously. Nor is particularity ever without universal implications (see 6.7).

6.1 ‘et divinum et bestiale’: Celestina a lo Humano Celesti[na] / libro, en mi opinión, divi[no], / si encubriera más lo huma[no]. —Cervantes (Quijote I. 109)3

No more pertinent statement is likely to have been made about said drama sui generis. While indirectly significative for the stating author’s own écriture, the focus herein will be on Celestina’s very ‘humanism’.4 For its not ‘covering up’ the latter decidedly conduces to the endeavor at hand.5

|| 2 For an expedient synopsis—depicting, describing half a millennium of the interplay between texts and fine art—see the superbly curated ed. El jardín de Melibea (Añón/Arraiza passim). 3 Approx. ‘(The) Celesti(na) / (a) book, in my opinion, divi(ne) /, if (only) it would have covered (up) the huma(n [aspects]) more” (trans. dsm); see the n. below. Cf. Gilman (“humanly monstrous”, “such a relentless view of ‘lo humano’, Spain 368; with “Rojas como autor” 429– 430); Bataillon (229); Chevalier (620–621). As a matter of course, the Cervantine pun runs deeper, seeing that the title and its name correspond to his first adjective—precisely a mode of concealing the down-to-earth within. Besides, it cannot be excluded that said writer— knowledgeable about (Ancient) Cynicism (cf. Mayfield “Against” passim; spec. 20n.; 21–33)— was insinuating precisely this generic, discursive, semantic heredity when using the contrastive pair cited. Thereto, and as to this subch.’s title (mutatis mutandis), see Aristotle (Pol. 12, 1253a, I.i.12); with Plutarch (“Publicola” 516, VI.4); Nietzsche (KSA 13. 478, 15[118]; “Götzen [KSA 6]” 59, “Sprüche und Pfeile”, §3); Mayfield (Artful 25, 25n.; 28n.; 183, 183n.; 198, 198n.; 238n.; 320n.; 391, 391n.; 395–396; 437). Cf. the onset of ch. 7, herein. As to the above—in a different respect—see Lida de Malkiel (Siglo XV 306). Again otherwise in Parrilla (“Fablar [in: Pedraza et al.]” 240; “Fablar [in: López-Ríos]” 412); with Lacarra Lanz (“dichos lascivos” 364). 4 Needless to say, this act of rhetorical ventriloquism—having another place the aforecited words in the mouth of a protagonist by the name of ‘Sancho Panza’, immediately followed by a speaking jade (cf. Quijote I. 108–109, ‘Del Donoso, Poeta Entreverado, A Sancho Panza y Rocinante’)—cannot be equated with anything like ‘authorial intent’; not even were Cervantes supposedly speaking in propria persona (which he is not, here). Yet the technique as such— spec. its indirection—may be elicited from the given text indeed. 5 A description of cynicism developed in a previous monograph—and further elaborated with respect to a twofold Cervantine novela ejemplar—is here applied to a downright seminal Early Modern text. See Mayfield (Artful passim; spec. 12–13, 53–55; and “Against” 11–33).

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Seeing that a general readership is targeted—while Celestina’s plot and contexts might not be as familiar as those of the Quijote (say)—a certain amount of what would be considered ‘common knowledge’ among specialists is here provided, thereby to facilitate access to this Early Modern comedia.6 Perchance, hispanists—being human—will find it partly useful even so.7

6.2 Written to Be Spoken: Socio-Historical Circumstances love is supposed to be talked about—it is made with the intent that it be talked about. —Kilian (24–25)

By way of introduction, some remarks concerning Celestina’s backgrounds—its probable author, setting, make, reception—may seem needful. As regards the criticism and scholarship having accrued for well over five hundred years, the ensuing explicitly disclaims even the semblance of a synopsis—to say naught of comprehensiveness. The studies cited yield no more than a minute fraction from a veritable flood of papers, articles, books; the respectively requisite recourse cannot but remain selective, herein.8 The (Tragi)Comedia de Calisto y Melibea—commonly called Celestina— appears to have been a (partly) collaborative effort, if the sources are reliable.9 One ‘Fernando de Rojas’ is taken to be the author of the work’s later segments.10

|| 6 Fernández Rivera asserts: “Compared to the two mythical characters that Spanish literature has contributed to the world, Don Quixote and Don Juan, the bawd Celestina is barely known outside the Hispanic countries” (“Preface” IX). 7 The present approach being Humanistico-comparatist, this overall ch. has been written for recipients from any (linguistic, cultural, academic) background, using the current lingua franca. For said reason, it will not overstress the fact that the work in question was first written in castellano; and attempt to abstain from becoming excessively entangled in the boundless— and most valuable—philological controversies associated therewith. Cf. subch. 6.7, herein. 8 Not even a monograph entirely concerned with Celestina could still handle the sheer quantity of previous endeavors; much less the limits of an article or ch. See the wide-ranging bibliography on the part of Lobera et al. (“Bibliografía” passim). Indispensable for heuristic purposes, it is neither complete (apparently omitting what is arguably the most significative study ever published on the work), nor tailored to Celestina exclusively; hence also contains many entries of more general relevance and basic affinities to the text in question. 9 See Kohut (75). On the title: “para la imaginación popular, el mítico personaje de Celestina siempre ha conseguido eclipsar a los demás” (Severin “Intro.” 39). Lawrance’s resp. polemic speaks for itself: “This is absurd” (80; even more so at 82; his conclusion smacks of irony: 92). 10 See Rojas (C [Severin] 69–71, “El autor a un su amigo”; 74, §8, “El autor, escusándose”). Cf. the acrostic in the metatextual piece entitled “El autor, escusándose de su yerro en esta obra

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He avers to have found another’s script of what he turned into a first ‘act’ by first adding fifteen—then another five—(much) shorter ones.11

|| que escrivió, contra sí arguye y compara” (C [Severin] 71–76, §1–11): ‘El baChjl(l)Er feRnanDo de roiaS acAbo la Comedia dE calySto Y melybea Y fve NasCJdo eN la pVebla de mOnTaLvaN’; with Severin (“Intro.” 12; 14). See Di Camillo: “si es que hay más de un autor, […] cómo se explica que se mencione sólo el nombre de Rojas, y no de manera normal, […] sino relegado y semiocultado en un pseudocriptográfico acróstico, único ejemplo en la tradición literaria española” (“La péñola” 117–118; cf. 120). The text’s authorship is a historical query primarily. The present not being a biographical reading, speculations may be entrusted to such as feel called upon. The text might have been a collaborative effort indeed; the extent thereof being open to question (cf. Severin “Intro.” 14–15; Küpper “Ordnung” 177n.–178n.). For the purposes at hand, the persona ‘(Fernando de) Rojas’ is sufficient as a nominal point of reference. 11 It cannot be excluded that one is facing a deliberate delegation, shifting the responsibility for a text’s con- and inception to another, spec. an anonymus: such will mark a rhetorical technique more generally. Its potential functionalizations comprise (inter alia): a manner of legitimization; an increase in plausibility via extended meta-narratives; a move anticipating, deflecting, possible charges in terms of content; etc. Cf. Shipley’s hints (“Autoridad” 576–577; “Authority” 108). In said respects, the framework of Hawthorne’s masterpiece is particularly instructive (7–43); spec. these passages, speaking the language of contingency, rhetorically: “It will be seen […] that this Custom-House sketch has a certain propriety, of a kind always recognized in literature, as explaining how a large portion of the following pages came into my possession, and as offering proofs of the authenticity of a narrative therein contained. This, in fact,—a desire to put myself in my true position as editor, or very little more, of the most prolix among the tales that make up my volume,—this, and no other, is my true reason for assuming a personal relation with the public” (8); “one idle and rainy day, it was my fortune to make a discovery of some little interest” (29). “I chanced to lay my hand on a small package, carefully done up in a piece of ancient yellow parchment. This envelope had the air of an official record of some period long past” (30). “Prying farther into the manuscript, I found the record of other doings and sufferings of this singular woman [sc. ‘Hester Prynne’], for the most of which the reader is referred to the story entitled ‘THE SCARLET LETTER’; and it should be borne carefully in mind, that the main facts of that story are authorized and authenticated by the document of Mr. Surveyor Pue. The original papers […] are still in my possession, and shall be freely exhibited to whomsoever, induced by the great interest of the narrative, may desire a sight of them. I must not be understood as affirming, that, in the dressing up of the tale, […] I have invariably confined myself within the limits of the old Surveyor’s half a dozen sheets of foolscap. On the contrary, I have allowed myself […] nearly or altogether as much license as if the facts had been entirely of my own invention. What I contend for is the authenticity of the outline. […] There seemed to be here the groundwork of a tale” (32–33). Generally as to the latter, see ch. 7 (spec. 7.1.2, 7.2.3), herein. Hawthorne’s speaker then has recourse to the rhetorical technique of eidolopoiía, in order to make the aforesaid task a delegated one—thereby necessitating what had been (re)presented as a chance event: “It impressed me as if the ancient Surveyor, in his garb of a hundred years gone by, and wearing his immortal wig,—which was buried with him, but did not perish in the grave,—had met me in the deserted chamber of the Custom-House. […] With his own ghostly hand, the obscurely seen, but majestic, figure had imparted to me the […]

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The former’s life might be briefly addressed. A legal advocate by profession, he seems to have been a Jewish converso, or from such a family.12 When writing this work—1499 being the terminus ante quem, hence sometime during those world-historically decisive nineties—Rojas may have been studying law at the prestigious university in Salamanca.13 He avers to have written his (first) share of the comedia during a summer break of two weeks—likely a topical claim.14 The debate has not settled whether this should be called a comedy, tragedy, (extended) colloquies, “theatre of the mind” (Pattison 321; 323; 324), playful narratives, even a (Renaissance) novel—or something entirely sui generis: “un texto tan raro, sin antecedente alguno” (Di Camillo “Consideraciones” 61).15 || explanatory manuscript. With his own ghostly voice, he had exhorted me […] to bring his mouldy and moth-eaten lucubrations before the public. ‘Do this’, said the ghost of Mr. Surveyor Pue […] [‘]I charge you, in this matter of old Mistress Prynne, give to your predecessor’s memory the credit which will be rightfully its due!’ And I said to the ghost […] ‘I will!’” (33–34). The format of this final auto-sermocinatio insinuates a spiritual mock marriage. Diachronicocomparatistically, Hester Prynne (in her old age) might be described as a ‘Celestina a lo puritano’, considering Hawthorne’s ensuing ethopoiía: “a very old, but not decrepit woman, of a stately and solemn aspect. It had been her habit, from an almost immemorial date, to go about the country as a kind of voluntary nurse, and doing whatever miscellaneous good she might; taking upon herself, likewise, to give advice in all matters, especially those of the heart; by which means, as a person of such propensities inevitably must, she gained from many people the reverence due to an angel, but, I should imagine, was looked upon by others as an intruder and a nuisance” (32). ‘No hay que añadir comento’ (see Gracián Oráculo 237, §251). 12 Cf. e.g. Gilman (“Fortune” 351; Art 9; 211; “Rebirth” 290–291, 290n.–291n.; Spain passim; spec. 111–155; 233–241); Deyermond (Sources 118–120; “fuentes” 118–120; 126); Castro (passim; spec. 11–14; 17–92); Green (Western Trad. III. 351); Whinnom (“Interpreting” 58–61); Round (48; 52); Lacarra Lanz (Cómo leer 18–22; ‘Ars amandi’ 21–22); Kohut (75); Jiménez Lozano (26; 29– 30); Serés (379–380); Zepp (19–51; spec. 20–21, 23–24, 45–46, 50–51); Giles (166); also Baranda (102–111; 209); and the biographical précis by Salvador Miguel (38–40). 13 See Rojas (C [Severin] 69n.; 71n.; 74, §7, “El autor, escusándose”); Severin (“Intro.” 11–12); Serés (377–380); Fothergill-Payne: it is “clear from the text” that Rojas “was a student of law” (Seneca 140; with “Séneca” 130). Cf. Fernández Rivera: “Celestina […] is the product of the leading intellectual center of early modern Spain, the University of Salamanca” (“Closet” 10). 14 Cf. Rojas (C [Severin] 70, “El autor a un su amigo”; 71n.; 74n.); Serés (373); Di Camillo (“La péñola” 123); Severin, whose remark is of wider application: “some of this is disingenuous” (“Celestina’s audience” 199; see 200, 205). As throughout, statements encountered in the text itself are naturally prioritized over the speculations of critics. The former may often be implausible; but—in contrast to the latter—are made by what professes to be a work of art (rather than ‘the truth’). Cf. Di Camillo (“La péñola” 114). 15 “a text so strange, sans any antecedent[s]” (trans. dsm). Gilman calls it “unique, even […] monstrous […]. Nothing like it has ever been made […]—La Celestina […] is necessarily without genre. It is ‘ageneric’, a monster” (Art 194; plus 195–206; Stern 192). Cf. Di Camillo’s estimate: an “interminable controversia” (“Consideraciones” 55); similarly Stern (191). See the detailed,

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For the present purposes, it will suffice to follow the tradition—referring to Celestina as an oratorico-dramatic dialog (et vice versa); and to also otherwise state what may be discerned prima facie.16 Even sans the pertinent references in the prólogo and another metatext, the work does lend itself to a “collective reception” (Kilian 19); is manifestly written to be “recited” (Lida de Malkiel “técnica” 281; trans. dsm), hence spoken and heard; in other words, to be performed—as a socio-rhetorical event.17

|| instructive account by Arzálluz (402–417); also Pattison (317–318; passim); Kohut (75). On the genre, cf. Severin’s summary gloss as to the principal fault lines: Deyermond, Menéndez Pelayo see a “novela dialogada”; Lida de Malkiel, Bataillon stress Celestina as “teatro”; Gilman thinks of it as a “diálogo vívido” (logged in: Severin “Intro.” 27n.). The latter states: “a pesar de su forma dialogada, La Celestina es una novela moderna” (“Intro.” 38; see Simpson ix). Parrilla stresses: “Estamos en el reino del diálogo” (“Fablar [in: Pedraza et al.]” 233; “Fablar [in: LópezRíos]” 400); with “acción dialogada en prosa” (“Fablar [in: Pedraza et al.]” 231; “Fablar [in: López-Ríos]” 397); “prosa dialogística” (“Fablar [in: Pedraza et al.]” 232; “Fablar [in: LópezRíos]” 400). See Salvador Miguel’s brief outline (40–41); also Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 12); Illades Aguiar (45; passim). For the purposes of this ch., it will suffice to see it as a dialogic text with rhetorico-dramatic potential (generally speaking). Above all, it was always—incl. later, after having been renamed for the readerly love of that bawd—called a (tragi)comedia (see Rojas C [Severin] 81, Pro.; with Lawrance 79; 82–84; passim; Di Camillo “Consideraciones” 57; 59–60; 65; passim). There seems to be no need for—nor added value in—‘updating’ the label. 16 Generally: “Es genügt, was der Augenschein zu erkennen gibt” (Stierle “Höhle” 198; infinitized). Cf. “We need only say the obvious: Celestina is inexhaustible, […] there is no magic key to its comprehension. But […] it is a great mistake to undervalue rhetoric itself, its great power and scope” (Fraker 77). He also notes “the dialogic or […] controversial art of Rojas and his predecessor: the drama of our text resides in great part in the succession and interchange of speeches” (78). On the various ‘dramatic techniques’, see Lida de Malkiel (Masterpieces 67–83); as well as Mota (444–451), stressing their nexus with rhetoric (444; 451–466). 17 Plus the scholar’s context: “La Celestina no se escribió para representarse en un teatro, por la sencilla razón de que no había teatros en esa época en Europa. Se escribió para ser recitada” (“técnica” 281; with Stern 197–199). The initial assertion would depend on what counts as (a) ‘theater’. Cf. Rojas’ (incidental) reference to (typical) situations, “quando diez personas se juntaren a oír esta comedia” (C [Severin] 80–81, Pro.; with 81n.). See also the fourth stanza in the verses on the part of the work’s ‘copy editor’ (C [Severin] 345, §4). Severin glosses: “Proaza nos da una clave sobre la evidencia de la lectura pública de La Celestina y, presumiblemente, de mucha de la literatura popular en la época” (C [Severin] 345n.). Cf. subch. 7.2.2, herein. See Gilman (Art 33); Lida de Malkiel (“técnica” 281); Pattison (318); Snow (“Reading” 447); Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 12–15); Illades Aguiar (41, 41n.; 46–50; passim); Chartier (“Texts, Printing, Readings” 154–155; 158–160; briefly Author’s Hand 19; “Reading Matter” 276); and Stern (197–200); spec. “Rojas […] had in mind a public reading, hence a performance” (197– 198); if “distributed among several readers”, it “would resemble a rehearsal” (198); “read[ing] the dialogue aloud to a live audience” (199). Cf. Gurza (103; 105); spec. “La Celestina me parece producto y espejo de una sociedad básica[…]mente oral” (98). “Otro nexo con la cultura oral,

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In the version customarily regarded as final, the text comprises 21 acts.18 While its cast is not overly extensive, the total length seems considerable, might appear unstageable—though it would be injudicious to exclude that possibility a priori.19 As indicated, this particularly “poly-functional” play (Kilian 19) gives itself to being read out—aloud and indeed: whether to a larger (analphabetic) public; or in oratorico-academic circles, with roles delegated.20 Discourse historically, it is located at a threshold—taking 1492 (that annus mirabilis et tremendus) as a relatively plausible date in that regard.21 From a || tanto con la popular […] como con la clásica de la retórica, es la abundancia del uso de expresiones formulaicas” (99). Cf. Chartier (“Texts, Printing, Readings” 160). Parrilla stresses: “en Celestina se proyecte un único ideal retórico directamente aprendido en la escuela, como instrumento propedéutico, o en una bien asumida observación de los textos de carácter dramático que eran vehículo práctico de tales improntas retóricas, al estudiarse como modelos” (“Fablar [in: López-Ríos]” 401; with “Fablar [in: Pedraza et al.]” 233). Castilla has: “lecturas teatralizadas”, “a viva voce” (519; also 520, 522–523). Cf. Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 7; 17); Illades Aguiar: “written to be read aloud, viva voce” (49–50); a “vocalized”, “dramatized reading” (50; plus 53, 57); both contexts cum grano salis, ad locum and throughout. Generally, Chartier affirms: “In the literature of Golden-Age Spain, […] reading aloud is an ordinary, expected and projected means for appropriating works […] of all genres” (“Reading Matter” 276). With respect to Celestina: “here ‘reading’ is actually listening to speech that is read. The practice was common” (“Texts, Printing, Readings” 158). 18 The 16-act version continued to be printed, trans. as such. (Cf. e.g. C [Simpson] passim). 19 See Stern: “medieval theater handled far more complex staging than the Tragicomedia required” (192; spec. with 195, 195n.–196n., 200; and 190–200 generally). Contrast Gilman (Art 33); Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 7; 9); Illades Aguiar (53); Kohut: “Allein die Länge des Stücks macht eine Aufführung unmöglich” (75). Cf. Kilian’s suggestions (16; 18). As tentative proof, one could recall certain of Shakespeare plays, which—sans knowledge to the contrary—might seem virtually unstageable (the latter demonstrably not being the case). By and large, Blumenberg observes: “Unaufführbarkeit darf einem Drama nicht nachgesagt werden können” (“Epigonenwallfahrt” 273). Else only implausibly so. 20 Thereto, cf. Castilla (521); Kilian’s comparatist remarks (17–19). See Di Camillo (“libertinaje [1999]” 73; 75–76; “libertinaje [2001]” 585–586; 588–590); spec. “la comedia era un género que permitía todo tipo de experimentación” (with “ejercicio retórico”, “recitación entre estudiantes de retórica”, “libertinaje [1999]” 75; cf. “declamaciones retóricas”, 73; “libertinaje [2001]” 588– 589; plus 586). See López Grigera (Retórica 30–31; 72–73); Illades Aguiar (46–48; 53–54; 57), cum grano salis. Di Camillo’s further remarks on the art will be taken with a grain of salt (“libertinaje [1999]” 81–82; “libertinaje [2001]” 596–598); spec. the idea of “un argumento nada retórico, pero muy efectivo” (“libertinaje [1999]” 81; retained as-is in a later, otherwise slightly altered version of the same essay: “libertinaje [2001]” 597)—aut ironice, aut ὀξυμώρως. 21 Yet another date from the same century ought never to be omitted; spec. since its effects were at least as catalytic (if not more so): the annus horribilis 1453. In a significative erratum, Chambers backdates “the Spanish Celestina (1492)” (456n.; but cf. also Rank 189–190; 192; of course: “tuvo que haber una tradición manuscrita”, Di Camillo “La péñola” 119; 126). The sheer

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Hispanic point of view, it saw the Fall of Granada, hence the completion of the reconquista; the first discoveries on the part of Columbus—quasi provoking the infamous Treaty of Tordesillas in 1494, launching a global conquista; as well as Nebrija’s notable grammar of castellano (inter alia).22 Whatever may be said for or against the (nominally arbitrary) practice of demarcating epochs, this peculiar year may seem less random than most others, seeing how its effects were incisive, pervasive indeed.23 Another question would be whether—and if so, how—this might map onto literary history; in discursive terms, the respective problem will be tentatively addressed in subchapter 6.5. Around 1499, a ‘partial’ copy of Rojas’ comedia was published in Burgos; its first ‘full’ version (extant) is dated to 1500 (Toledo); an ‘enlarged’ (21 act) script appeared in Zaragoza (1507); the received text came out in Valencia—about 15 years after the (known) initial rendition (1514).24 Whatever else one might wish to say in this respect (archival trouvailles never being out of the question), Celestina remained work in progress for a considerable time. Over one hundred issues and translations followed in the sixteenth century alone (see Küpper “Ordnung” 178n.). Leaving aside the technicalities of dating and editing, this was surely a viral piece of writing—rapidly spreading all over Europe immediately (by contemporaneous standards).25 In terms of quantity,

|| import of said year may display a tendency of acting like a lodestone for later events of cultural impact. Cf. Gilman (Spain 332, 332n.–333n.); McGrady (“Calisto’s Lost Falcon” 102, 102n.). 22 Especially in terms of his eminent dictum: “Siempre la lengua fue compañera del imperio” (Nebrija qtd. in: Kohut 47; with context, 46–49). Cf. Briesemeister, as linked to the anecdote ascribed to Emperor Charles V (195–196). Generally, Samonà (9–10); Küpper (“Trad. Cosmos” 376). The end of the reconquista—a recent event from the text’s point of view—is pointed to via Sempronio’s paronomasía: “ganada es Granada”; a (contextually facilitated) quasi allusion to Columbus follows (“Cristóval fue borracho”, C [Severin] 141). The milieu, wherein these virtual references appear, decisively downplays their import by way of serialization and context. 23 Generally, see Blumenberg: “Das Mittelalter ging eben noch nicht im 14. Jahrhundert zu Ende” (Legitimität 406). In certain environments, it never has (cf. Beiträge 30–34; 42–44). “Kein Epochenbruch besitzt die Radikalität, wirklich alles ab ovo zu beginnen. Obgleich entsprechende Behauptungen das Plädoyer der meisten Revolutionen begleiten, zeigt sich früher oder später die untergründige Abhängigkeit, die allem Neubeginn seine historische Endlichkeit zurückgibt” (Bubner Antike Themen 15–16). 24 “Mit der Ausgabe Valencia 1514 hat das Stück seine endgültige Form erreicht” (Kohut 75; plus context). As to the problems of a precise dating, cf. Severin (“Intro.” 11–16); spec. Serés (382–395); Küpper (“Ordnung” 177n.–178n.); the utile précis by Salvador Miguel (33–36). On textual strata, the ed. praxis of the Spanish version, see Severin’s explications (C [Severin] 45). 25 For Spanish eds. until 1650, see Lobera et al. (“Aparato Crit.” 563–568); Serés, as to various trans. (395–398). Significantly, “Celestina fue un auténtico éxito editorial a lo largo del siglo XVI y los primeros decenios del siguiente: conocemos casi noventa ediciones en castellano,

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one may well call Celestina an Early Modern ‘bestseller’; hence symptomatic of its time and mores (to a certain extent).26 Qualitatively speaking, some even say that, as far as literature in castellano is concerned, it ranks second only to the Quijote—if that. For Cervantes himself seems to have held the earlier text in (the) high(est) esteem.27

6.3 Diogenical Cynicism evanescent are the fashions of the world[.] —Hawthorne (32)28

The present reading concerns a transcultural phenomenon. The accent falls on a text’s rhetorico-discursive aspects—specifically contingency; and on matters pertaining to what may be termed ‘anthropistics’, or moral philosophy.29 The word at issue is ubiquitous: politically, ‘academically’, something like a conceptual epidemic even.30 As a result and further enabling factor, the term’s

|| impresas entre 1500 y 1644 en España, Italia, Francia, los Países Bajos y Portugal […][;] circuló por toda Europa y América, dando lugar a numerosas traducciones a otras lenguas: la italiana de 1506, dos alemanas (1520 y 1534), tres francesas (1527, 1578 y 1633), tres inglesas (c. 1530, 1598 y 1631), una holandesa (1550) y una latina (1624). Ningún otro libro español tuvo notoriedad y difusión mayores en los Siglos de Oro” (395). See Chambers’ remark and n. on the first English rendition (206; with 455n.–456n.). Not only is the resp. play of comparative brevity; its plot is thoroughly refunctionalized—the last word being “AMEN” (see “Tragi-Comedy of Calisto [ed. Dodsley/Hazlitt]” 53–92; here: 92). 26 “In its day, Celestina was a best-seller, with over one hundred editions in the sixteenth century” (Echevarría xviii). Cf. Whinnom (Essays 159–175); Shipley (“Autoridad” 546, 546n.; “Authority” 95, 109n.). Kohut memorably accentuates “die verführerische Kraft, die das Werk […] ausstrahlt. Sein Erfolg war unmittelbar und andauernd” (76). 27 Cf. Cervantes (Quijote I. 109, ‘[Versos Preliminares]’, spec. ‘Del Donoso, Poeta Entreverado, A Sancho Panza Y Rocinante’, 108–109)—as also cited in the motto for subch. 6.1, herein. One is dealing with ventriloquisms, of course. On the aforesaid, see Schalk (n. pag.; abstract); Flores (passim); Snow (“Reader/Renewer” 82–83; passim). Echevarría avers: “Celestina […] is recognized by scholars and critics as being second only to the Quijote as a work of prose fiction in the Spanish language” (xiv). Kohut has: “a monumental work” (75; trans. dsm). 28 Cf. Küpper: “Es gibt im Bereich auch von Theorien solche Phänomene des Modischen, standardisierte Reize, die auf kurze Zeit wirken, sich dann […] aufgrund der Standardisierung […] totlaufen und durch die nächste Mode ersetzt werden” (“Einige Bemerkungen” 30). 29 On said concept, see Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim; spec. 236n., 238, 238n., 250n., 252–257, with n.; also 266n.; for applications, 266–270). 30 In the English tongue, cynicism is often connected with what one may call a ‘disease discourse’: moralizing critiques typically point to pathologies and remedies in connection

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semantic reference is often rather imprecise—to say the least.31 Its connotations tend to be negative, from the respective speaker’s stance and angle.32 In the main, ‘cynicism’ seems to be deemed an expedient interpersonal warhead: especially for charging any alter with a (conscious) contempt for, or (perceived) lack of (faith in), communally accepted values—whichever those might happen to be at a contingent point in time and cultural space.33

|| therewith. References to the resp. research are much condensed to such as serve the spec. purposes at hand. For copious citations and an ample bibliography, see Mayfield (Artful passim); the present subch. (6.3) draws on, and précises, the latter’s yield. 31 As Sloterdijk diagnosed in his Critique, cynicism seems a ‘diffuse’ (cf. 33–34; 41; 180; 225; 369) phenomenon. By any reckoning, that critic’s contribution will count as an exacerbation of said state of affairs. This might be demonstrated by a 2017 study as overtly—even expressly— employs the term at issue clear of any diachronically tenable—much less discourse historically valid—integration with accepted usages; combined with a generous innocence of much prior scholarship (cf. “rigorously distinguish”, Rose 194n.; plus the rundown at 8–10). Hardly will “Borges, Beckett and Coetzee” seem “literary cynics” (11) by simply dubbing them so: “these writers will be our cynics” (2). “I subtract what I call ‘literary cynicism’” (3; “I am inclined”, “My impulse”, 5; plus 8, 29, 191n.; and, tellingly, 194n., referring to such dubious procedures of whimful positing as “technical”). As a result, the taxonomy throughout would seem unwitting at best, if not arbitrary and indiscriminate—from a scholarly angle; while likely not inexpedient with a view to merchantability. On that score, the effort might even yield the impression of consistency: “Literary cynicism, I wish to suggest, is operative when the writer appropriates ‘his’ reified form as a commodity on a literary marketplace” (Rose 14; see 15, 25–26, 28). As the choice of terminology signals, the overall slant is highly ideological, politicized, biographistic (cf. e.g. 5–7; 16–17; 25–26; 193n.). The range of phenomena ostensibly associated with cynicism comprise the “banal”, “boredom” (4), “paradoxes” (14; with 8), “literary language games” (15), “irony” (25; also 26), etc. The titular term might as well be replaced by “auto-critique”, “‘groundless subjectivity’, or ‘alienation’” (Rose 12; cf. 27); else any of the other ideologemes rotely at large therein. Swiftly written off, the take on “Ancient Cynicism” must seem reductive, if not uninformed—declaring it to be “an intervention of bodies, not of arguments or minds” (9). Ultimately, the inclusion of assertions such as the ensuing will speak for itself: “There is […] nothing exceptional about cynicism as it appears in Borges, Beckett, and Coetzee” (Rose 7). If so, then due to its absence. 32 In German, the term is chiefly used in contexts indicating a (deliberate) lack of respect for the value of life; hence ‘zynisch’ tends to appear in (immediate) connection (or as identical) with ‘menschenverachtend’. When compared to the American usage, the word is typically more incisive, in that it refers spec. to such as would hold human(eness and) dignity in contempt. 33 This ‘deficiency’ is usually (while not necessarily) ascribed to others (cf. Niehues-Pröbsting Kynismus 365; 367). It is primarily applied to an opponent with the intent of maligning him or her: “Der Vorwurf des Zynismus spricht dem Betroffenen die moralische Einstellung ab; daher evoziert er, außer beim wirklichen Zyniker, stets Empörung” (Kynismus 365). It might also be applied to the general public, who are then seen to be ‘cynical about politics’ (for instance); as well as to oneself (in advocatus diaboli mode, say). Ventriloquizing the devil’s stance and angle

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Along said lines, its function is primarily rhetorico-agonal. Virtually always, it is employed ad hominem—for purposes of a (more or less) sophisticated form of blaming: ‘psógos’, epideictically speaking. Withal, it displays a tendency to serve for character assassination by and large—particularly in the forensic and deliberative genres sensu lato: meaning, in (public) litigating or politics.34 More universally, a notion frequently associated with cynicism will be that all human conduct is routinely driven by (immediate) self-interest only. The latter might manifest as rampant greed, disregard for others, or complete ethical indifference; plus practically any other morally disadvantageous connotation imaginable. On average, the value judgment is then applied either to the party (deliberately) acting in such a manner; or to someone asserting this as the (inevitable) state of affairs. Not infrequently, the former are taken to mask their status by accusing everyone else of the latter. The bottom line may well be that—in all Occidental idioms (as far as assessable)—a rote use of the term ‘cynical’ (‘cínico’, ‘cynique’, ‘cinico’, ‘zynisch’, and so forth) is typically innocent of any affirmative association. As the foremost scholar of this topical field pertinently observes: Zynismus [i]s a name for an attitude that does not recognize anything as sacred[;] and that insults values, feelings, and decorum provocatively, with biting sarcasm, or even just by deliberate indifference[.] (Niehues-Pröbsting “Modern Reception” 331n.)

Etymologically, discourse historically, and culturally, the word in question has Greek foundations; and is linked to one philosopher in particular: Diogenes of Sinope, dubbed ‘the Dog’. Proof of his existence appears to be furnished by Aristotle’s mention of a clever saying precisely on the part of somebody called “ὁ Κύων” (Rhet. 400, 1411a, III.x.7).35 The latter—denoting a definite member of the canine species—was associated with impudent behavior, and employed as an insult. In this respect,

|| is hardly a Machiavellian brainchild outright: the latter’s perfection in said respect will likely stand on Celestina’s shoulders, as well. 34 On “ψόγος”, cf. Aristotle (Rhet. 32–39, 1358b–1359a, I.iii.9; here 32, 1358b, I.iii.3); Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 34–35, 3.4.11; 36–37, 3.4.14–15; 102–103, 3.7.1–2); Lausberg (Handbuch 55, §62.3.b; 542, §1129). Generally as to the above, Mayfield (Ventriloquism 132; 134; 144n.–145n.; 186n.; 190, 190n.–191n.; incl. applications and further references). 35 See Dudley (23, 29); Long (31–32); Hard (viii; with Diogenes the Cynic [ed. Hard] 44, 199n.); Dobbin (“Intro. Cynic” xi). Contrast Goulet-Cazé (“First Dog” 414–415). Cf. “Alexander once came and stood opposite him and said, ‘I am Alexander the great king’. ‘And I’, said he, ‘am Diogenes the Cynic [‘ὁ κύων’, ‘the dog’]’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 62–63, VI.60; with VI.61).

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not much has changed, at least as concerns the weaponized use of the term ‘cynical’—views of shame being contingent, dependent on a given morality. Apart from certain Stoicizing texts, the principal (remaining) source for Diogenical dicta, and a corresponding stance, is a—probably third century CE, hence comparably late—assortment of earlier material, compiled by D. Laertius (see Lives II. 22–85, VI.20–81).36 As regards the anecdotes recorded therein, at least the ensuing two will likely have attained to a state of common knowledge. In one, the Sinopean is seen to be walking through a (densely) populated pólis—bearing a lantern at high noon, (pro)claiming his searching for a human being.37 The image has lost none of its hold on the Occidental imagination—with Goya’s respective sketch being the most memorable rendering.38 While the brazen agency is with the Dog (and the spectating public implied) in the aforesaid yarn, the other—equally, or even more—notorious tale told actively involves Alexander the Great (for maximum effect). The latter is seen to have sought out (or chanced upon) the canine philosopher lazily laying sub sole. Faced with the potentate’s magnanimous offer to grant him any wish, Diogenes snarls: ‘get out of my light’. In the Greek, this retort is even haughtier: ‘unshadow me’.39 Despite his (royal, youthful, armed) splendor, the Macedonian Prince is still and only a source of relative murk.40

|| 36 Cf. e.g. Epictetus (Disc. III–IV. 130–169, III.22); Dio Chrysostom (174–175, IV.15; 177, IV.18– 19; 195–196, IV.59; 203, IV.76); Plutarch (Moralia VI. 183, 467.C; Lives VII. 258, ‘Alexander’, xiii.2–3). In trying (hence failing) to sermonize a body of anecdotes otherwise decidedly unpalatable (ethically speaking), such will naturally be only of limited use to any descriptive endeavor; ex negativo, they do signal that a need to moralize seems to have been ‘felt’. 37 “He lit a lamp in broad daylight and said, as he went about, ‘I am looking for a man [‘ἄνθρωπον ζητῶ’, sc. ‘I seek a human being’]’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 43, VI.41). This—downright abysmal—anecdote was easily preachified, by inserting the qualification ‘honest’ (or analogous adjectives). Yet the (literally) ‘actual’ point appears to be that the ‘an sit’ has not even been answered yet (much less the ‘quid et qualis’). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 31–32, 31n.–32n.; 35n.; 199; 232–233, 233n.; 342n.; 439). 38 As printed in the excellently curated volume prepared for the Prado’s two-hundredth anniversary (see Goya 155, §82, C31). 39 “When he was sunning himself in the Craneum, Alexander came and stood over him [sc. ‘Diogenes’] and said, ‘Ask of me any boon you like’. To which he replied, ‘Stand out of my light’ [‘ἀποσκότησόν μου’]” (Lives II. 40–41, VI.38). Cf. the variant in Seneca (Essays III. 298–299, V.iv.3–4). As to the aforesaid, see Mayfield (Artful 35n.; 43, 43n.; 179n.–180n.; 444; “Against” 33n.; “Philosophical Animal” 60). 40 In other words: Diogenes craves the literal—rather than figurative (or cultural)—source of ‘light’. In the Western tradition, virtually any of those countless claims to (or that one should) be having yet another ‘recourse to nature’ are in some measure based on that Dog’s attitude (cf. also subch. 6.6.1.2, herein). Even so—and in patent contrast to any and all Enlightenments soi-

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In addition to these (in)famous anecdotes, there are numerous others— brimful with contempt for everyone and anything: be it communal values, social status, established norms, ethical comportment, even human life itself.41 The Dog is “great at pouring scorn on his contemporaries” (Lives II. 27, VI.24). Apparently, not few of these tales were thought to be so offensive that certain editions simply left them untranslated—expurgating or mitigating others.42 What is deemed apt, acceptable—what should go unsaid (even if commonly performed)—is contingent. While ostensibly more enduring than other vogues, moral preferences—public tastes, familiar customs, standard manners, modes of life—are all subject to otherwiseness, even (partial) obsolescence.43 Hence there are sayings as would have seemed offensive primarily to (say) an Athenian of Plato’s day.44 Yet some of these utterly terse micronarratives are likely to shock a contemporary (Western) readership—still or especially.45

|| disant (to say nothing of self-styled Ideology Critiques)—the effectual philosopher precisely does not seek that putative ‘sun’ of Reason; but the pleasure of doing nothing (or a resourcefully tanned skin); and not unlikely with eyes closed (to add insult to the injury of rationalistic pride). Generally in that regard, see Blumenberg: “eine bloße Bewegung des Augenlides – diese Urform der Negation” (Höhlen. 378). 41 Cf. Cisneros Araujo: “Ser cínico significa cuestionar lo socialmente establecido” (139). 42 See e.g. D. Laertius (Lives II. 49, VI.46; 59, VI.56; 63, VI.61). 43 Cf. Strauss: “the self-interpretation of a society is an essential element of its being” (Natural Right 56). Morality will (merely) be the impression a given community would like to have—and exude—regarding itself: an expedient public image. Any group is provisionally pasted together by an ostensive adherence—on the part of a (collectively) relevant portion of its constituents— to the external appearance of its cosmetically enhanced surface (wherein it trusts). As in other contexts, the factual state of affairs beneath need be of no concern—so long as said maquillage is effectually maintained. Consequently, the proponents of (and dependents on) the official view will quasi ‘instinctively’ try to conserve that contingent veneer—at (almost) any cost. Yet what is makeshift—meaning, all matters human—may (and ultimately must) shift. 44 Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 36n.; 242). Generally, see Branham: “The strictures against certain forms of aggressive humor are as persistent in ancient theoretical discussions as their practice was in fact” (Unruly 233n.; plus 254n.). Contrast Long, declaring that “Diogenes did not attack the general principles of Greek popular morality” (35). Since a value judgment with less foothold in re is hardly conceivable in this context, its innocence might come under suspicion. 45 Granting that a recipient’s personal (or peculiar) creeds are equally contingent—potentially susceptible of varying over time—the ensuing are merely possible (if not unlikely) samples: “He was asking alms of a bad-tempered man, who said, ‘Yes, if you can persuade me’. ‘If I could have persuaded you’, said Diogenes, ‘I would have persuaded you to hang yourself’” (Lives II. 61, VI.59). “Seeing some women hanged from an olive-tree, he said, ‘Would that every tree bore similar fruit’” (Lives II. 53, VI.52). “Some one took him into a magnificent house and warned him not to expectorate, whereupon[—]having cleared his throat[—]he discharged the phlegm into the man’s face, being unable, he said, to find a meaner receptacle” (Lives II. 33–34, VI.32).

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All ethical proclivities being a matter of taste—whether particular or interpersonal—they may be otherwise; or not (else no longer) hold at all. Any morality’s contingency is of special significance as regards the concept and phenomenon under consideration—for the excellent reason that cynicism is pertinently describable qua willfully transgressing, ostentatiously offending, vociferously negating a respectively given one.46 There are (semiotically sedimented) Ancient standards, conventions, values, as well as (Early) Modern ones; but not therefore different ‘cynicisms’— pace Sloterdijk’s still fashionable (because crudely dualistic, Romanticizing) ideology of some bygone ‘good’, while presently depraved type.47 On the contrary: “das Kynische war doch immer schon das Zynische” (Niehues-Pröbsting Kynismus 262).48 Taking his or her bearings from the sheer contingency of things, the irrespective agent stands in outspoken, even graphic contrast to a given set of mores—whichever those may happen to be. Diogenes was going into a theatre, meeting face to face those […] coming out, and being asked why, ‘This’, he said, ‘is what I practise doing all my life’. (D. Laertius Lives II. 67, VI.64)49

|| “Behaving indecently in public [i.e. masturbating], he wished ‘it were as easy to banish hunger by rubbing the belly’” (Lives II. 70–71, VI.69; cf. 47, VI.46). Naturally—viz. considering the commonly uncouth conduct of a mammalian species corrupted to the core—none of these anecdotal instances would fall under the category of ‘one cannot even make up such excrement’ (in rhetorico-progymnasmatic exercises, say); but neither are they implausibly associated with a persona notorious as impudence ambulant. 46 Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 352); as well as Blumenberg regarding a “Faktizität aller sozialen Ordnungen” (“Recht des Scheins” 415; with 416–417). On “Morality’s Contingency”, see Mayfield (Artful 445–451; also 12, 24–25, 31, 36, 51, 53, 102, 107–108, 120, 124, 142, 158–159, 160n., 161, 164, 168, 261, 336n., 338, 386, 415n.–416n.). For a rhetorical example, cf. Aristotle (Rhet. 97, 1367a, I.ix.26–27); plus his remarks on both kinds of justice (NE 294–297, 1134b, V.vii.1–4; the trans. at 295n. and 297, V.vii.4 being problematic): “τῶν ἐνδεχομένων καὶ ἄλλως ἔχειν” (NE 296, 1134b, V.vii.4); “in den Dingen, die auch anders sein können” (Nikomach. Ethik 117, 1134b, V.10). “Aristotle says explicitly that all right […] is changeable” (Strauss Natural Right 158; with 157, 159). Cf. ch. 3 (spec. 3.5); the onset of 4; plus subchs. 4.1 to 4.3, herein. 47 Contrast Sloterdijk’s verdicts (34–35; 222; 366; with 37–38, 64). See Niehues-Pröbsting’s sober assessment thereof (Kynismus 2; 8; “Welthistorischer Cynismus” 171). Cf. Schreier (26–27; 40–43); Mayfield (Artful 3–9; 22). 48 Further wordings of (t)his thesis—that ‘Ancient Cynicism is precisely cynical’—are found in Niehues-Pröbsting (“Differenz” 75; “Modern Reception” 331n.; “Welthistorischer Cynismus” 171). For a scholarly hypólepsis thereof, cf. Mayfield (Artful 6n.; 12; 24; 65n.; 300n.–301n.; 342). 49 See Cisneros Araujo: “La calle es […] la realidad, la contingencia, […] exige […] respuestas inmediatas para sobrevivir y soluciones a los acontecimientos imprevistos. […] Se trata de vivir en el azar, en la indeterminación” (134). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 39; 308n.; 412; “Interplay” 21n.).

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Cynicism flaunts its variance with the expected and the prevalent; with what a certain time and cultural space would deem commonsensical. Glorying in its resourceful discord—cunningly praised as ‘parrhesía’ (the sheer freedom of ‘speaking it all’)—it takes pride and delight in its ‘artful immorality’.50 Cynical utterances are the phenomena initially observable in their very effectuality; and so to be described—the point of reference being current or local conventions, customs, nómoi.51 Conditional upon the reception, a corresponding statement might be indicted qua impudent, indecorous, irreverent, callous, caustic, scandalous, et caetera.52 Such or similar value judgments on the part of a (verbal or written) reaction—the shock and astonishment, even awe, they indicate—may be used for heuristic purposes. Simultaneous with its immoral content (pertaining to inventio), a cynical remark tends to have a particular, distinctive make. In terms of elocutio, it will characteristically be disposed to incisive brevity, concinnous terseness, acute wit. The rhetorical craftiness added is integral to the phenomenon’s evaluation. While the matter should be downright appalling to most—be it (say) vulgar, brutal, ruthless, inhumane—the refined form may yield a certain appeal. Given morality’s contingency, the first can vary—and has, considerably; but the latter continues to prove as diachronically pertinent as the téchne able to describe it. Since the Dog, a confluence of artful (per)form(ance) and immoral content has been the dependable characteristic of the phenomenon under consideration. From cynical remarks, one could infer a stance. Heuristically, Diogenical bearing (verbal, enacted, or both) might intimate what may well be seen as the posture’s distinctive aspects (issuing into utterances). The vital factor will be the Cynic’s insight into the workings of this world: On being asked what he had gained from philosophy, he replied, ‘This at least, if nothing else—to be prepared for every fortune [‘τύχην’]’. (Lives II. 64–65, VI.63)

|| 50 Generally, see Hawthorne: “It is scarcely decorous, however, to speak all, even where we speak impersonally” (7). For variants of the formula condensing the workings of cynicism, cf. Mayfield (Artful 1; 12–13; 53–55; 98n.; 109; 390n.; “Against” 33; “Philosophical Animal” 61–62; 69–71). On parrhesía, Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 217–218); Branham (“Defacing” 347–348; 355); Mayfield (Artful 52–54, 53n.; 440; 442; cf. 14–16; 23n.–24n.; 32n.; 41n.; 43n.; 70; 73, 73n.; 95n.; 106n.; 120; 122n.; 128; 134; 147–148; 150; 175; 183; 185n.; 233; 263; 277n.; 281–283; 286; 302; 303n.; 304, 304n.; 309; 310n.; 317n.; 334; 336n.; 355; 362n.; 396; 403n.; 405; 411n.; 423n.). 51 On induction as the ‘way to go’ in a realm of contingency, see ch. 5 (spec. 5.2.1), herein. 52 Cf. Cisneros Araujo: “Los cínicos plantean una filosofía subversiva, contestataria, de la transgresión y la protesta. Con sus actos buscan escandalizar” (126; with 134).

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Considering the implications of this answer, Branham’s dubbing Diogenes “the philosopher of contingency” (“Defacing” 337) may seem conceivable. At once, the elemental experience (or expectation) that all might as well be otherwise—or no way—also influences the remarks on a respectively extant order: Diogenical parrhesía has no limits; might acidly corrode any given presumed to be stable. A typical corollary for reckoning with týche tends to be an accent on human agency. Concerning the cynical standpoint, this will translate into a variable balance between striving for self-sufficiency to the utmost; and perpetually adjusting to an always changing, because contingent world—as insinuated in the above notion of ‘being ready for come what may’.53 Such accommodation does not issue into ethical conduct (and if, only accidentally). These ‘ingredients’ of the stance—autárkeia plus adaptation, enabled and necessitated by consummate contingency—are held together by a thorough affirmation of the phýsis sensu lato: of this world, body, and selves.54 Seeing that such uninhibited assertion is articulate, it lends itself to a reception as cynical.55

6.4 The Play, Protagonists, and Plot Literarisch ist die kontingente Welt eine verunglückte Komödie. —Küpper (“Ordnung” 204)56

As Celestina is an Early Modern drama, it may seem needful to present the textual world, its characters, the plot in some detail, so that further remarks— regarding its discursive tendency (contingency), potentially cynical aspects— might be integrated into a more general impression of this copious work of art.57

|| 53 As to (cynical) autárkeia, see Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 71; 156; 158; 190; “Der ‘kurze Weg’” 115; “Modern Reception” 351; “Welthistorischer Cynismus” 177; “Rhet. und Ästhetik” 51; 55; 59); Mayfield (Artful 12–16; spec. 25n., 27n., and 38–40, with n.; 42n.; 45–46; 50n.; 51–54; 60; 61n.; 64n.; 66; 120; 137n.; 144–145; 154; 156–157; 159; 164; 176; 178–198; 226; 238; 242; 263– 264; 266; 281–282; 309; 316; 321–322; 333n.; 347–348; 363; 398n.; 420–422; 431; 433–434; 437). 54 The central formulations are indebted to Blumenberg’s speaking of “radical” or “naked contingency” (Legitimität 181; with Arbeit 681; both trans. dsm); and Küpper’s elucidating a ‘consciousness’ of the latter qua “Ermöglichungsstruktur” (“Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm). 55 For this overall description of cynicism, see Mayfield (Artful 12–13; 53–55; and passim). 56 “In literary terms[,] the contingent world is a miscarried comedy” (trans. dsm). 57 The play is prefaced by a plotline (“Argumento” C [Severin] 82–83); each act by a précis (e.g. C [Severin] 85, for act I). Mostly, these preambles were added by certain (early) eds. (cf. Di Camillo “La péñola” 118n.–119n.; with Pattison 320); hence contain a good deal of moralizing and value judgments. They are of limited use for a descriptive delineation of the storyline.

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6.4.1 Dramatis Personae the text itself […] is the indispensable point of departure for – and constant reference of – […] exegesis. —Nichols (“Auerbach” 175)58

First, the protagonists and their interrelations: Calisto falls in love with Melibea; both are of noble birth. Pleberio is the latter’s father, Alisa her mother, Lucrecia a servant. Calisto has four thereof: Sempronio and Pármeno figure in the first twelve acts; after their deaths, they are replaced by Tristán and Sosia. The play’s cynosure—Celestina—manages two prostitutes, who appear to be cousins (C [Severin] 124, I): Areúsa, Elicia. The latter is usually with Sempronio; the former and Pármeno get together in the course of the play (with the bawd’s help). Crito and Centurio are further clients; the latter figures in the segments inserted in the text’s later versions, chiefly in act XVIII.59 Traso, a consociate of Centurio’s, has no speaking part—apart from making noise.60 Claudina and Alberto, Pármeno’s parents (both deceased) figure as virtual presences (C [Severin] 120–121, I); especially his mother, a fellow whore, witch, Celestina’s ‘best friend’ (with certain intimations).61 After Claudina’s death, the procuress took care of the former’s boy for a brief period (more implications there).62 In the text’s time zone, this factor aids her in gaining partial, then full access to Pármeno—finally winning him over with the prospects of pleasure.63

|| 58 Cf. Severin “hay que volver al texto” (“Intro.” 24). Yet she continues to seek (an implicit) authorial intent (cf. “Intro.” 24–25), believing to have found it later (“Intro.” 42–43). 59 Being a client of Elicia’s, Crito has but a single line in the play (cf. C [Severin] 104, I), and is not otherwise of import. The intercalated acts are (parts of) XIV to XIX (see C [Severin] 287–327). 60 (Cf. C [Severin] 317, XVIII; 326, XIX). Similarly, Alisa’s sister is given as “mujer de Cremes” (C [Severin] 153, IV)—another reference to a Terentian character (e.g. at “Self-Tormentor” 186; I.i.77). This does not seem to be observed by the glosses (but cf. C [Severin] 138n.), which do refer to Terence as regards Traso’s name (see C [Severin] 317n.). The aforesaid sibling does not appear in the play; she is crucial in that her illness calls away Melibea’s mother, whereby Celestina has free access to the young lady (cf. C [Severin] 153, IV). On the Terentian influence, see also Küpper (“Ordnung” 204n.). Generally, Gilman refers to the Ancient dramatist as “a delightful and often playfully cynical playwright” (“Rebirth” 285). 61 (See C [Severin] 142–143, III; 196–200, VII; 271, XII). Cf. Severin (“Witch” 418; 420). 62 The hints: “¡Mas rabia mala me mate, si te llego a mí, aunque vieja!” (C [Severin] 118, I)—in an explicit setting. Later, Celestina states: “déstos [sc. young men like Pármeno] me mandavan a mí comer en mi tiempo los médicos de mi tierra quando tenía mejores dientes” (C [Severin] 208, VII). Hardly will such oral implications not seem lurid. Cf. Severin (“Witch” 418); Maestro (personaje 82n.), cum grano salis (the critic appears to confuse Pármeno and Sempronio). 63 Inter alia, via (inventing) a story, as per which a large sum of money was entrusted to her

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6.4.2 Précis of the Plot A book looking like this had never been printed or seen before. —Gilman (“Rebirth” 285)

This outline of the main events and turning points is divided into four segments, corresponding to formal and content-related subdivisions within the text.

The First Act no one in Celestina is safe from desire, greed, or stupidity. —Kilian (21)

The comedia begins in medias res. Searching for his absconded falcon, the young aristocrat Calisto chances upon the noblewoman Melibea, falls in love instantly.64 She rigorously rejects him, only exciting him further (C [Severin] 87, I). He is devastated, suffers from all the symptoms of lovesickness (C [Severin] 88–89, 91–92, passim in act I; plus 219–220, VIII).65 Sempronio suggests that Calisto commission Celestina to act as a go-between—with a view to facilitating the fulfillment of his lust (C [Severin], I).66 The servant goes to meet the bawd at her house, where he also meets his lover, Elicia (C [Severin] 104–106, I). Pármeno—having intimate knowledge of Celestina, since she acted as his sometime foster mother (C [Severin] 120–121, I)—first warns his master against getting involved with the cunning procuress (C [Severin] 108–129, chiefly 115– 116, I).67 When Calisto leaves to get a rather large reward (C [Severin] 117, 129, I),

|| by his father (upon the latter’s death)—supposedly being kept safe for Pármeno (cf. C [Severin] 121, I; 200, VII). De re, see the fragment from Caecilius’ play ‘Karine’, where it is the mother (506–507, §100–101; preserved by Festus, P. Diaconus). In Rojas, there are hints that this is but a ruse; e.g. “y me dixo [sc. Pármeno’s father] sin otro testigo, sino Aquel que es testigo de todas las obras y pensamientos y los coraçones y entrañas escudriña” (C [Severin] 121, I). “PÁRMENO. […] querría saber qué tanto es. / CELESTINA. No puede ser agora” (C [Severin] 200, VII). Yet her bringing up his mother’s memory also decisively aggravates Pármeno, right before he slays the bawd: “¡No me hinches las narizes con esas memorias[!]” (C [Severin] 273, XII; cf. 273n.). 64 The cause is given in the plotline; later in dialog (C [Severin] 85, I; with 134, II; 134n.–135n.). 65 On ‘amor (h)er(e)os’ generally—spec. in Petrarca, a decisive influence for Celestina—see Küpper (Schweigen 115–161; “Medical” 117n.). As to the text at hand in said respect, cf. Lacarra Lanz (“Enfermedad” passim; spec. 200–212; with ‘Ars amandi’ 14–18; 39–43; 49–58): “Calisto sufre y parodia simultáneamente la enfermedad de amor hereos” (“Enfermedad” 208). 66 “Celestina […] gehört der niederen Welt an, hat […] Zugang zu der anderen” (Kohut 76). 67 Also during the initial talk between Celestina and Calisto. Cf. “PÁRMENO. […] estuve contigo

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the bawd tries to bring Pármeno round to her side (C [Severin] 117–128, I).68 Sempronio is already bent on exploiting his master (C [Severin] 115, I).69

Acts II to XII ¿Quién só yo, Sempronio? ¿Quitásteme de la putería? —Rojas (C [Severin] 273, XII)70

The brief second act is mainly dedicated to conversations between Calisto and his retainers. In the third, Sempronio visits the procuress and Elicia; the disloyal servant is certainly on their side.71 It concludes with a soliloquy on Celestina’s part, wherein she eloquently invokes the powers of darkness to aid her in seducing Melibea on Calisto’s behalf—and with a view to the filling of her own pockets (C [Severin] 147–148, III). The fourth act commences with a continued monolog by the bawd; who then spies Lucrecia—Melibea’s servant, Elicia’s cousin—whereby she initially gains entry to the house.72 Strangely enough, it is the mother herself, who invites Celestina in (see Küpper “Ordnung” 183–184). When Alisa is called away, the procuress has full access to her daughter.73 With honeyed words, the former aims to flatter and

|| un poco tiempo que te me dio mi madre” (C [Severin] 120, I). Reminiscences of the (Medieval) schema of psychomachia may be present in the first act. Generally, in application, see Küpper (Discursive 68–69, 68n.–69n.; 80–81; 87–88; 101, 101n.; 103n.; 148; 215; 230n., 231; 241n.–242n., 242; 397–399; 401n.; 427n.; 429–430, 429n.; 434n.; 439). Cf. subchs. 8.1, 8.4, herein. 68 Lida de Malkiel logs “la multiplicación de obstáculos que dificultan el logro de ciertos actos. Así, para cosechar todo el provecho que promete la seducción de Melibea, Celestina ha de seducir primero a Pármeno que amenaza malquistarla con Calisto; y para seducir a Pármeno, ha de seducir primero a Areúsa, único cebo del adolescente” (“técnica” 289–290). 69 This first act seems to have been written by another author than Rojas. It is the longest by far, comprising about a seventh of the play (quantitative suggestions being of heuristic value only). 20 segments of highly heterogeneous length are yet to come. Küpper refers to this as the text’s “chaotic absence of boundaries [or limits]” (“Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm). 70 The tone is “caustic”, “sardonic” (Spain 368)—as Gilman aptly observes: “Who do you think I am, Sempronio? […] When did you save me from whoredom” (qualified as “sarcastically”, “Rebirth” 304; Gilman’s trans.). Similarly Singleton’s: “Who do you think I am, Sempronio? From what whorehouse did you rescue me?” (C [Singleton] 189, XII). Celestina is slain shortly after. As to the segment, see also Maestro (personaje 88); the context is (highly) problematic. 71 Cf. “loyalty […] is either shaky or feigned, and […] affection hypocritical” (“Rebirth” 294)— Gilman’s particular formulation may yield a general description. 72 Thereto, cf. Lida de Malkiel (“técnica” 290). 73 Elicia’s cousin (see C [Severin] 151, IV), hence also Areúsa’s (C [Severin] 234, IX). Cf. Lida de

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deceive the young lady. Upon mention of Calisto’s name (C [Severin] 161, IV), Melibea is outraged, and wants to hear no more. With a brazenly simple ruse of utmost economy, the bawd appeases her and simultaneously gains a feckful token for the lovesick adolescent. Appealing to Melibea’s piety and compassion, Celestina avers that Calisto suffers from a toothache; hence requests that the lady give him a prayer, as well as the girdle she is wearing around her waist—since it is said to have come into contact with numerous relics (C [Severin] 164, IV).74 On account of this reference to charity, Melibea’s ire dies down (almost) instantly. Not only does she offer Celestina the girdle, but also asks her to return the next day—and in secret—for the written supplication: the go-between has her foot in the door (C [Severin] 168, IV). In the very brief fifth act, Celestina makes her way to Calisto’s house. In the sixth, she tells him of her dealings. Pármeno—still on his master’s side—always speaks up against her schemes, even as Sempronio opposes him. After torturing the lovesick lad’s expectations for a while, the procuress presents him with the girdle—which he promptly begins to fetishize as if it were Melibea herself (C [Severin] 186–189, VI). She leaves; Pármeno escorts her (C [Severin] 191, VI). In the seventh act, Celestina succeeds in winning over said servant by speaking of his mother (C [Severin] 196–197, VII); and by procuring for him the favors of Areúsa, whom he desires (C [Severin] 208, VII). The bawd recurs home, where Elicia is waiting. In the eighth act, Pármeno and Sempronio make peace

|| Malkiel (“técnica” 288). The term need not necessarily refer to blood ties, since other such words (‘madre’, ‘hermano’, to say nothing of ‘tía’) are frequently used in cases where there are (definitely) no family relations proper. The main protagonist uses both in one sentence—while factually referring to his servants and to Celestina: “Hermanos míos, cient monedas di a la madre” (C [Severin] 130, II). Tristán also calls Sosia “hermano” (C [Severin] 293, XIV). Lucrecia refers to Celestina as “tía” (C [Severin] 152, IV). 74 The bawd suggests that Melibea lacks “piedad”, evoking the timelessness of “misericordia” in contrast to fleet vengeance: “Que pues en tu mucha virtud me faltó piedad […]. Pero ya sabes que el deleyte de la vengança dura un momento; el de la misericordia para siempre” (C [Severin] 164, IV). Calisto had hyperbolically given the lady’s lack of “piedad” as exceeding that of Nero (C [Severin] 92, I). When about to make love to her, she (vainly) defends her virginity with the same set of terms (piety, compassion, evanescence): “me fié en tus manos, pues quise complir tu voluntad, no sea de peor condición, por ser piadosa, que si fuera esquiva y sin misericordia; no quieras perderme por tan breve deleyte y en tan poco spacio. […] no pidas ni tomes aquello que, tomado, no será en tu mano bolver” (C [Severin] 284, XIV). After the deflowering, she refers only to the brevity of bliss (if that): “¿cómo has quisido que pierda el nombre y corona de virgen por tan breve deleyte?” (C [Severin] 286, XIV). Calisto’s monolog in the inserted section of act XIV begins with the general notion: “O mísera suavidad desta brevíssima vida […][.] O breve deleyte mundano” (C [Severin] 288, XIV). Cf. Lida de Malkiel (“técnica” 284–285).

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(for profit); go to see their lovesick master. In the ninth, prostitutes and lovers feast together (at Celestina’s house, but Calisto’s expense)—indulging in much wine, bickering, (light) carnal activity; as well as dwelling on the good old days. Lucrecia arrives, asking the procuress to come see her mistress. In the tenth act, Celestina goes to meet the lady, who—it turns out—is now hopelessly in love with Calisto all of a sudden. The bawd promises to arrange a midnight rendezvous (C [Severin] 247, X). Alisa spies her, sensing mischief now; hence aims to prevent any further interaction between her daughter and the bawd, who happens to be a former neighbor. In the eleventh act, Celestina gives Calisto the much desired news, at which he rewards her with an (it would seem) outrageously valuable chain or necklace, apparently of gold (C [Severin] 250, XI). Crucially, this is witnessed by Sempronio and Pármeno.75 The (comparably long) twelfth act marks the first climax of this decidedly non-Aristotelian drama.76 Approximately three fourths of the overall narrative have elapsed by this segment’s end. It stages the initial—not yet physical—tryst between Calisto and Melibea, talking through the cracks of a door. When the lady’s parents hear noise, the young man is forced to return home with Sempronio, Pármeno. While he gets some rest, the servants are agitated, aggressive from their nightly adventures, hence walk over to the bawd’s place— bent on demanding their share; especially regarding that prized chain. (Apparently) on account of her utter greed and avarice (which clearly come to light in this scene), Celestina—for the first time, and otherwise inexplicably (see Küpper “Ordnung” 187, 187n.)—fails to judge the situation shrewdly and dispassionately.77 Sans dissimulatio, she blatantly refuses the servants any sort of (pecuniary) recompense for their part in the plot of preying on their master. This—if not irrational, then certainly—imprudent lapse will cost her dearly: already frustrated and aggravated, now further incensed by feeling cheated, Sempronio and Pármeno stab Celestina to death.78

|| 75 The “cadenilla” (C [Severin] 250, XI; cf. 250n.; 271, XII), “cadena” (C [Severin] 270–271, XII), may even be of gold; for Celestina tries to downplay its value (with likely the most hackneyed truism in this regard): “No ha de ser oro quanto reluze, si no más barato valdría. […] [el] valor de la cadena, que no era mucho” (C [Severin] 270–271, XII; generally: 220, VIII, 220n.; with C Comentada 318, 135r, VIII.18). Elicia later says: “una cadena de oro” (C [Severin] 296, XV). Sosia cites Elicia as referring to “una cadena de oro que tú [sc. Calisto] le diste” (C [Severin] 281, XIII). 76 Cf. “Generisch ein prä-aristotelisches Drama” (Küpper “Ordnung” 179; with 179n., referring to Lida de Malkiel’s discussion). 77 She else evinces a confluence of “mental fierceness”, “cold logic” (Gilman “Rebirth” 304). 78 To the extent that Celestina has been acting like a (cunning) tyrant, there are certain similarities to an “Et tu, Brute” (Shakespeare JC 237, III.i.77). Pármeno is something like her

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Acts XIII to XIX the view of love as a semi-public commodity […] prevails in La Celestina. Here love is perpetually overlooked, overheard, discussed, bought and sold. —Round (41)79

In the brief thirteenth act, two additional servants—Tristán and Sosia—inform Calisto as to the execution of Sempronio and Pármeno. After their slaying of Celestina, the night watch just so happened by (C [Severin] 297, XV); they leapt from a window—hence were already severely injured, perhaps not conscious anymore (C [Severin] 280, XIII; 297, XV).80 Found near the crime scene—with Elicia also having witnessed the murder first-hand—both were summarily beheaded (C [Severin] 278, XIII; 297, XV).81 At first, Calisto does worry about his reputation being in danger due to the deed and death of his servants; then quickly writes them off, focusing instead— and solely—on his first intimate meeting with Melibea (about to happen). The fourteenth act sees a physical tryst of the two nobles, who consummate their love in the lady’s garden (C [Severin] 285–286, XIV). It concludes with the male part lamenting the brevity of life and pleasure (C [Severin] 288, XIV).82 In the fifteenth, Elicia notifies Areúsa as to the deaths of Sempronio and Pármeno. They vow vengeance on Melibea, Calisto, whose joy they envy (feeling deprived of theirs); and whom they believe to be at fault for what has happened

|| adopted son; the decisive difference being that Caesar was famously generous (cf. Sallust’s highly stylized account at 112–113, LIV.2–4)—for power political reasons, needless to say. Generally, see Severin: “Celestina’s death by stabbing is mock-heroic (reminiscent of the death of Caesar)” (“Humour [1979]” 288; with “humor [2001]” 348). 79 Cf. Mendoza Negrillo: “se trata de un amor brutalmente apasionado, muy distante del amor de los cancioneros” (241). Then again, see also Nichols (“Language, Soul” 84–85). 80 While this will likely be a philological contingency, cf. two chips from Caecilius’ ‘Fallacia’: “Ossiculatim Parmenonem de via liceat legant”. “Give them a chance to pick up Parmeno / Bonemeal off the road” (484–485, §47); “nisi quidem qui sese malit pugnitus pessum dari”; “unless one who prefers a knock-out to perdition” (486–487, §48; both preserved in Nonius). 81 Elicia herself: “Mil cuchilladas le vi dar a mis ojos; en mi regaço me la mataron” (C [Severin] 296, XV). Prior, Sosia had reported: “aquella su criada, dando bozes llorando su muerte, la publicava a quantos la querían oýr, diciendo que porque no quiso partir con ellos una cadena de oro que tú [sc. Calisto] le diste” (C [Severin] 281, XIII). 82 The latter section already pertains to the inserted segments of the extended edition—an intercalation that continues until the end of the nineteenth act (in the ‘final’ version). For the enlarged rendering—the Tragicomedia of 21 acts—Severin’s expedient ed. uses the Zaragoza text of 1507, with recourse backward to the Toledo (1500), Burgos (1499), Seville (1501) variants of the Comedia; and forward to the 1514 Valencia version (cf. C [Severin] 45).

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to their lovers (C [Severin] 298–299, XV).83 Via Sosia, Areúsa will gain sensitive information on the rendezvous (C [Severin] 299, XV); and then commission the ruffian Centurio for purposes of dispatching Calisto (C [Severin] 299–300, XV). While the lady and Lucrecia eavesdrop, Melibea’s parents—not in the know as to the factual state of play (C [Severin] 302–303, 306, XVI)—plan to arrange a marriage for their (supposedly virgin) daughter in the brief sixteenth act.84 In the seventeenth, Areúsa elicits the needful information on the midnight meetings from Sosia (C [Severin] 311–312, XVII). Elicia listens in hiding. The eighteenth act is dedicated to the scheme on the part of the two prostitutes, who aim to delegate Centurio; after some hesitation, he ostensibly agrees to the task. Once alone, he speaks to himself spinelessly—and decides to send another man (Traso the Lame) in his stead (C [Severin] 317–318, XVIII).85 The nineteenth act sees the last tryst of the lovers in Melibea’s garden. All of a sudden, they are interrupted by Sosia’s shouts, indicating that something is amiss without. While this is but the redelegated Traso—merely making noise— Tristán’s call that there is no actual problem comes too late.86 Impassioned by (likely also depleted from) his rendezvous—and probably overcompensating for the deaths of Pármeno and Sempronio—Calisto is now eager not to seem a coward. Climbing over the high garden walls too quickly, he missteps while descending the ladder, hits the ground, and dies (C [Severin] 326, XIX). Melibea falls into despair.

|| 83 Elicia’s ascription: “Calisto y Melibea, causadores de tantas muertes” (C [Severin] 298, XV). She says: “de lo que más dolor siento es ver que por esso no dexa aquel vil de poco sentimiento de ver y visitar festejando cada noche a su estiércol de Melibea” (C [Severin] 299, XV). 84 Pleberio observes: “no ay cosa con que mejor se conserve la limpia fama en las vírgenes que con temprano casamiento. […] En quien [sc. Melibea] caben las quatro principales cosas que en los casamientos se demandan […]: lo primero discreción, honestidad y virginidad”, etc. (C [Severin] 302, XVI). Cf. Alisa: “nuestra hija obedeçerá, según su casto bivir” (C [Severin] 303, XVI); “[¿]piensas que sabe ella qué cosa sean hombres, […] o que del ayuntamiento de marido y mujer se procreen los hijos? ¿Piensas que su virginidad simple le acarrea torpe desseo de lo que no conoce ni ha entendido jamás? […] mi guardada hija” (C [Severin] 306, XVI). 85 Diachronically as to said persona, see Lida de Malkiel (comparada 174–193; spec. 190–193). 86 Contrasting with the other two, who behaved cowardly (as had the foolhardy lover), “these servants of Calisto’s comport themselves ‘correctly’” (Küpper “Ordnung” 192; trans. dsm). In terms of the Aristotelian conception (an accidental meeting of two or more causal chains), it might be worth noting that Chance itself enacts the scheme of vengeance devised by Elicia and Areúsa; albeit not in their, but its own way (cf. Gilman Art 128; spec. Küpper “Ordnung” 190). Naught worked out as deliberated. Still, the result is the same; and with minimal involvement. Týche may well operate more economically than the best—or worst—plan on the part of human beings. Fortuitously, the prostitutes get to have their cake, even while eating it (with impunity).

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Acts XX and XXI la voluntad a la razón no obedece[.] —Rojas (C [Severin] 91, I)87

In the twentieth act, the lady ascends a tower, from which elevated position she rather calmly narrates the entirety of events to her unsuspecting father below (C [Severin] 332–335, XX). Declaring that she will follow her lover, Melibea throws herself off the turret—for Pleberio to watch (C [Severin] 335, XX).88 In the last act, the latter shows Alisa the shattered body of their daughter— whereupon she faints (possibly dies: C [Severin] 337, XXI).89 The inconsolable father concludes this rhetorical drama of contingency with an epideictic climax (qua peroratio). Indicting Fortuna, condemning the World and its vanities, his comprehensive deprecations rise to a highly eloquent invective against Love itself (C [Severin] 337–343, XXI).90 Utterly abandoned by hope, he laments his walking alone in ‘the tearful dale’ that is this life (C [Severin] 343, XXI).91

|| 87 “will does not obey reason” (C [Peden] 91, I; infinitized). See Mendoza Negrillo (249). 88 “por seguille en todo” (C [Severin] 334, XX). Cf. Lida de Malkiel: “Melibea, no por necesidad o por azar, sino por libre elección, se arroja de su torre […]. Cada una de estas caídas funciona como agüero de la siguiente, y ninguna es exactamente igual a las otras” (“técnica” 289). 89 “vez allí a la que tú pariste y yo engendré, hecha pedaços” (C [Severin] 336, XXI). Gerli accentuates “the broken bodies that litter the text” (216). As to his wife’s death, Pleberio states (uncertainly): “y si por caso tu spíritu reposa con el suyo, si ya as dexado esta vida de dolor” (C [Severin] 337, XXI; cf. Pattison 323n.). Before knowing what has happened, Alisa had declared: “porque si ella [sc. Melibea] pena, no quiero yo vivir” (C [Severin] 336, XXI). In light of the latter, an observation on Severin’s part acquires another nuance or implication: “the name Alisa […] is Elisa in the [Palacio] manuscript. […] Elicia is also called Alicia” (“Celestina’s audience” 205). With Pleberio’s aggrieved anger: “No pensé que tomavas en los hijos la vengança de los padres” (C [Severin] 341, XXI). Cf. Küpper (Discursive 337–338, 338n.). On the aforesaid ms., see the expediently brief synopsis by Salvador Miguel (36–38). 90 “¡O tierra dura! […] ¡O fortuna variable[!] […] ¡O vida […] o mundo, mundo!” (C [Severin] 337–338, XXI). “¡O amor, amor [!]” (C [Severin] 341, XXI). Cf. Celestina’s “¡O muerte, muerte[!]”—referring to Claudina (C [Severin] 142, III). Küpper observes that Pleberio ‘articulates’ the work’s “world model” (“Ordnung” 191n.; trans. dsm). 91 His last words: “¿Por qué me dexaste triste y solo in hac lacrimarum valle?” (C [Severin] 343, XXI). Generally thereto, cf. Wardropper (passim); Deyermond (“Lost Investment” passim); Snow (“Reading” 449; 451; 453–455). The reference is to Ps 84:6 (being Ps 83:7 in the Vulgate), literally understood. Yet see also Ps 23:4 (Ps 22:4 in the Vulgate, while not all versions have the ‘valle’, there); as well as Ps 22:1 (Ps 21:2; Vulgate); plus Christ’s citation thereof, precisely on the cross (Mt 27:46). As to the latter, cf. subchs. 6.6.1.5 and 11.1.1, herein.

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6.5 The Discursive Tendency: Consummate Contingency naked chance stripped of all moral purpose. —Gilman (Art 128)92

Particularly this fifth subchapter may tie in with an elaborate article by Küpper, which (in turn) has recourse to Blumenberg’s monumental Legitimacy of the Modern Age—likewise seminal for the present study.93 As part of Poetik und Hermeneutik XVII, the scholar scrutinizes Celestina’s world model.94 His diligent findings corroborate that said play downright ‘stages’ chance in assorted manifestations—Fortuna being the only discernible catalyst for what occurs.95 There is no reasonable ‘motivation’.96 Certainly—and most blatantly— no ‘poetic justice’: as in life, ‘evil’ prevails.97 Gainsaying the valuations nominally implied in two leading protagonists— Calisto especially, Celestina by implication (with ‘caelus’ qua ‘kósmos’)—this is not a “καλλίστη τραγῳδία” in Aristotle’s sense; mutatis mutandis, the latter’s accompanying formula “κατὰ τὴν τέχνην” (“Poetics” 70, 1453a, §13) may well bear a specific substitution here, hence read ‘κατὰ τύχην’.98 Needless to say, || 92 See Brancaforte on Croce (120). “En efecto, los personajes de la tragicomedia son víctimas de un furor incontenible y absurdo: accidentes fortuitos, avaricia, lascivia, amor, dolor y asesinatos” (Mendoza Negrillo 272). The rule of Fortune is potentiated by its ambulant variants: humans are contingencies to one another. See the onset of ch. 4; plus subchs. 4.2, 4.4, 8.5.2, 13.5, herein. There appears to be no need for Round’s hedging: “This is hardly a world in which Providence rules; it is governed […] by greed and chance” (40). His context is problematic. 93 See Blumenberg (Legitimität passim; spec. 173–174, 181); spec. subch. 4.4; plus 11.1, herein. 94 On said tome (Graevenitz/Marquard Kontingenz), cf. (sub)chs. 1, 2.4, 4.4, 4.5, 5.1.1, 10.1. 95 Cf. Küpper (spec. “Ordnung” 176; 179; 193; 200–201; 204–211; and passim). See also subch. 6.6.2, herein. With respect to the Early Modern Age more generally, Vogt comparably refers to a “[f]ortunadominierte Zeitanschauung” (33; cf. 34, 452–453; 459; 461; 464; 469; 471–480; 482; 503–505; 507; 541; 577; 590; 601; 654; Joas 15). 96 For applications of Jakobson’s term ‘motivirovka’ (“Realism” 26–27), see Küpper (Discursive 33, 33n.; Cultural Net 63; generally also: “Horizont” 242, with further affinities). 97 This is particularly patent in that Calisto refunctionalizes said concept in his own interest (Rojas C [Severin] 281–282, XIII; discussed in subch. 6.6.1.5, herein). Cf. Brancaforte on Croce (120). Gilman: “Rojas does not stress punishment so much as accident […][;] death becomes independent of transgression” (Art 128). Contrast Green (Western Trad. I. 112–113; 115; 119; Western Trad. III. 204–205); Baranda (207–208, 208n.). Quarantining his characteristic hyperbolism, there will be more than just a grain of pertinence in Gilman’s ensuing bon mot: “Only those who in one way or another are cynical or relatively unattached come off unscathed” (Spain 371). The Spanish version particularizes the remark: “Solamente se escapan los desinteresados (Sosia) y las totalmente cínicas (Elicia y Areúsa)” (“Rojas como autor” 433). 98 (With “Poetics” 68–71, 1452b–1453a, §13). Cf. Küpper (Cultural Net 149; Discursive 450); the

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there is method in this even so—qua rhetorico-dramatic “mise en scène of contingency” (Küpper “Ordnung” 206; trans. dsm).99 Said force will intersect with the intentionalities of the various characters randomly, at irregular intervals: “the world of Celestina [is] fundamentally […] ‘sin orden’, without – especially sans moral – causality” (“Ordnung” 193; trans. dsm; plus 211n.).100 Since it signals the epistemic model the play suggests and enacts, a discernment of this notional ground swell is decisive for the comedia’s assessment; hence also for that of its cynical drift (see “Ordnung” 202n.).101 On the whole, it will seem needful to distinguish. Qua discursive tendency, contingency underwrites and permeates the plot.102 Withal, there are ascriptions by the protagonists, who speak of (the goddess) Fortuna in diverse—traditional, extemporized, philosophical, even (orthodoxly) theological—contexts; and so always in a fragmented, disintegrated manner overall.103

|| n. on Heracleitus, below. As to the names and wordplay, see Cherchi (81–82; 84; passim); for Calisto’s, Fothergill-Payne (Seneca 50; 140); Samonà (27). On the interplay of ‘týche’, ‘téchne’, see Aristotle, spec. by recourse to Agathon (Rhet. 268–269, 1392b, II.xix.13; NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.5; plus Bacon Advancement 124, 124n., II); but also Plato’s ‘Polus’ (see Aristotle Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.5; cf. 5n.; Plato “Gorgias” 262–263, 448C; 310–311, 462C; plus Lausberg Elemente 25n.–26n.). See spec. subchs. 3.5, 3.6, 4.3; as well as the onset of ch. 13, herein. 99 The scholar uses the formula “Inszenierung von Kontingenz” with regard to Boccaccio (“Ordnung” 206). Cf. also: “Formal figuriert die Celestina das ihr zugrundeliegende Konzept durch die chaotische, jede Ordnung durchkreuzende, man könnte sagen, ‘kontingente’ Form” (“Ordnung” 210). In general, Rohde stresses: “die Literatur, die Kunst […] vermag das Faktum der Kontingenz wirklich plastisch anschaulich zu machen” (37; cf. 47). As to tools for crafting an appearance of disorder methodically, see the onset of ch. 5; as well as 7 (spec. 7.2.2), herein. 100 See Leube: “Fortuna beherrscht die Welt” (Die “Celestina” 52). 101 Cf. Küpper on the query “auf welches Weltmodell ein Text verweist” (“Ordnung” 202n.). He observes: “Der einzige, der bislang den Stellenwert des Zufalls für das Sujet der Celestina erfaßt hat, ist Gilman. Jedoch bleiben die einschlägigen Bemerkungen recht knapp” (“Ordnung” 192n.). See the first part of the subch. “From Thesis to Theme [–] Fortune” (Gilman Art 127–129; here: 127). Ignoring said factor and its import would either result in an ahistorical updating; or else a relegation to a prior systematics—here especially a morally superstructured, Scholastically ordered, theologico-dogmatic worldview. Providing a relevant contrast, the text is written against this discursive backdrop (inter alia). 102 By express recourse to Küpper, Schulz-Buschhaus speaks of “d[er] literarhistorisch und diskursgeschichtlich wohl auffälligste[n] Seite der Celestina, ihr[…] merkwürdig kontingente[r] Handlungsverlauf” (“taller salmantino” 124–125; with 126n.). 103 Generally, cf. Gilman (Art 127–128; “Fortune” 350–351; 358); López Grigera (“Causas” 113, 113n.). Leube logs: “der Glaube an das Wirken der Fortuna […] [‘wird’] von vielen Personen der Tragicomedia bekundet” (Die “Celestina” 46). See Küpper’s spec. accent: “für die Celestina, verstanden als paradigmatischer Text der Renaissance, [‘ist’] nicht das Konzept Kontingenz als solches, sondern sein Stellenwert konstitutiv”; meaning, a “revalorization of the concept of

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The Aristotelian version of the concept at issue is not ‘radical’; let alone ‘cosmic’.104 In the Stagirite’s sense, one appears to be facing the ‘accidental’ collision of what would else be separate causal chains; hence the Latin term ‘con-tingere’.105 The classic instance: ‘someone inters a treasure to hide it; while another aims to plant a tree, he accidentally unearths what the former had tried to keep concealed’.106 One (wo)man’s good, an alter’s (mis)fortune: such is the case in the present play, as well; but the influence of contingency runs deeper.

|| contingency” (“Ordnung” 191n.; trans. dsm). The latter will be distinguished from mentions by intra-textual protagonists, made in the act of explaining events to themselves and others. Since ‘giving an account’—qua refunctionalized ‘confession’—is critical to the overall structure, the characters are at the metalingual, epistemologico-referential, hermeneutic level spec. toward the end, when the plot is present quasi in its entirety. As to the concept of “Umbesetzung”, see Blumenberg (Legitimität 60; 71; 75; 87–88); and subchs. 4.4, 7.1.1–2, 11.1.1, 11.2.2, herein. 104 Cf. ch. 3; and 4.4, herein. On “radikale Kontingenz”, see Blumenberg (Legitimität 181). The adjective is used etymologically. For Ancient epistemai, a nexus of ‘kósmos’ and consummate contingency is conceivable as a contradiction in terms only—the latter being typical for Heraclitean écriture: “ὥσπερ σάρμα εἰκῆ κεχυμένων ὁ κάλλιστος […] κόσμος” (in Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 178, 22B124; by way of Theophrastus). Contrast Rössler/Sparenberg/Weber (17; despite 13). Generally thereto, see subch. 4.4, herein. Pertinently, Fraker stresses: “The authors of Celestina are prodigal with figures of contrast, broadly antitheses” (87). Not incidentally, a forensically schooled Rojas opens the ‘prólogo’ of a later ed. with an express reference to the Greek contrarian—“Todas las cosas ser criadas a manera de contienda o batalla, dize aquel gran sabio Eráclito en este modo: ‘Omnia secundum litem fiunt’” (C [Severin] 77, Pro.; 77n.; see Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 162, 22B53). It is taken from Petrarca (De remediis 155, II.praef.; with Schottlaender 32–33). See also the refunctionalization at the outset of an anon. Early Modern English interlude (“Tragi-Comedy of Calisto [ed. Dodsley/Hazlitt]” 53). Cf. Green, cum grano salis (Western Trad. II. 52–54; 61–63; Western Trad. III. 202–203, problematically). See Lida de Malkiel: “En la guerra elemental de las cosas entre sí, y de todas las cosas contra el hombre […][,] el propósito humano es un accidente demasiado pequeño como para afectar al juego total” (“técnica” 288; “Heráclito, no en vano aducido por el extraño Prólogo”, 290). Cf. Castro (93–156); Mendoza Negrillo (271, 271n.); Shipley (“Autoridad” 576–577; “Authority” 108); Snow (“Reading” 455); Di Camillo (“libertinaje [1999]” 77; “libertinaje [2001]” 591); Parrilla (“Fablar [in: Pedraza et al.]” 241; “Fablar [in: López-Ríos]” 412); Severin (“Celestina’s audience” 197–199; 201); Baranda (21–33; here 31–33, 31n.–33n.); spec. “las palabras de Heráclito que abren el prólogo a la Tragicomedia, con su imagen de un macrocosmos gobernado por el desorden y la sinrazón […] afines al neoepicureísmo […] proporcionan un marco conceptual coherente con los conflictos individuales y sociales desarrollados en el texto” (207). The (didacticist) context is problematic (cf. 207–209). 105 On this overall complex, cf. Bubner (“Zufall” passim); spec. “Das philosophische Interesse an der Aufklärung des Wesens des Zufalls speist sich bei Aristoteles offenkundig aus praktischen Quellen” (“Zufall” 6). See Wetz (“Begriffe” passim; chiefly 27–29); spec. Küpper (“Ordnung” 180; 191; 213–214, 213n.–214n.); for further references, subch. 4.5, herein. 106 Cf. “Zufälle – meinte zuerst Aristoteles – können dadurch entstehen, daß voneinander

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Said factor also concerns the question of genre. Beginning with its first publications, Celestina scholarship has engaged in a (somewhat heated) debate as to whether one be dealing with a comedy, tragedy; or what the portmanteau of these terms might mean.107 For the present purposes, it is sufficient to observe what this rhetorico-dialogical drama cannot be. Having a decidedly unhappy ending for everyone, it could hardly be the first option. Verisimilarly, Küpper speaks of a “miscarried comedy” (“Ordnung” 204; trans. dsm).108 The latter will be plain by the end of act twelve, at the latest. Being the first culmination of events, it leads to the death of the play’s cynosure (Celestina); as well as of two further protagonists (Pármeno, Sempronio). The preceding excess and hyperbolism, the parody of courtly love (see Severin “Intro.” 26; 27; 29–30), ceases to be blithe or playful—unless one happens to be blessed with a blacker form of humor.109 In Kohut’s eloquent brevity: “Am Schluß sind alle tot” (76).110 Simultaneously, Celestina is not a tragedy in Classical, Aristotelian terms (see Küpper “Ordnung” 201–203).111 Hardly will it be needful to bespeak the entirely heterogeneous length of the acts; the rather detouring quality of the storyline; the subplots, multiple climaxes. To say naught of the fact that the main character is a chronic whore, an alleged witch, an in vivo procuress— certainly not a slightly ‘flawed’ and else ‘out-standing’ human being (otherwise: Aristotle “Poetics” 71, 1453a, §13). Not to mention the setting, linguistic register: both are far from tragic decorum (see “Ordnung” 205; 210).112 || unabhängige Determinationsketten unvermutet aufeinandertreffen. Einer vergräbt einen Schatz, um ihn zu verstecken, ein anderer gräbt eine Grube, um einen Baum zu pflanzen: ‘Dies ist ein Zufall für jemanden, der eine Grube gräbt, nämlich dabei einen Schatz zu finden[’]” (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XIII; with XI). See subchs. 2.4, 3.1, and 4.5, herein. 107 Cf. Rojas (C [Severin] 81, Pro.); on the issue of (tragi)comedy, Severin (“Intro.” 16–18; 43). 108 Generally, see Aristotle: “in “comedy”, (as a matter of course) “no one dies at anyone’s hands” (“Poetics” 73, 1453a, §13). Castellano uses ‘comedia’ qua ‘drama(tic work)’ sensu lato. See Stern (191n.); Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 11); also Lawrance (84–86; “‘dark comedy’”, 88; “black comedy or farcical tragedy”, 91), cum grano salis. 109 The play has suddenly turned ‘serious’. It stages a setting of (lethal) consequences—and precisely not of delightful (hence rather improbable) happy endings. In this particular respect, the modeled world (in Lotman’s sense, 22–23, 61, 301; with Küpper “Ordnung” 181) is indeed comparable to the contingent one ‘outside’. Cf. subch. 5.1.1, herein. 110 “All are dead at the end” (trans. dsm)—i.e. the main protagonists: Celestina, Sempronio, Pármeno, Calisto, Melibea (mayhap Alisa, as well). 111 Contrast Mendoza Negrillo: “Un amor así, tan brutal, tan ciego, tan fatal en el auténtico sentido griego de ‘ananke’, da a La Celestina su verdadero sentido trágico” (250). While not as pronounced, also Martínez Torrejón (185–186). 112 Cf. “The linguistic level on which Rojas presents his picture of cosmic strife is anything but ‘tragic’” (Green Western Trad. II. 61). Di Camillo: “Celestina y sus allegados habl[a]n el

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With Blumenberg, Küpper outlines the decisive factor as to why the play in question cannot be a tragedy sensu recto: all that happens is utterly—‘radically’, ‘nakedly’, ‘absolutely’—contingent (“Ordnung” 173n.–174n.; 191, 191n.).113 There is no necessitous ‘beginning–middle–end’ structure.114 Events are ‘serialized’ (“Ordnung” 204, 204n.), occur in haphazard fashion.115 In the scholar’s words: That Celestina[—]qua drama of contingency[—]stands at a distance from the category of the tragic is immediately evident from the calculated banality, wherewith the intrigue is tied and unraveled, as well as from the total absence of a lofty tone. (“Ordnung” 201; trans. dsm; see 204n.)116

Not actions—trite and sundry accidents decisively ‘determine’ this drama. Perhaps, chance is not simply ‘playing’ god.117 To be sure, each and every of the human protagonists staged—especially Celestina—aim at being agents in a selfreliant sense: they strive to forge their own (good) fortune.118 Even so—mayhap || lenguaje de las aulas universitarias” (“libertinaje [1999]” 74; “libertinaje [2001]” 586). See Pattison (319); Canet (225); and Küpper’s observations as to the stylistic level of the servants (“Ordnung” 196n.). To be speaking of a “realista mundo” (Severin “Intro.” 38) will seem misleading—as the adjective cited tends to be in general. Cf. Pattison (319–321); Lida de Malkiel (“técnica” 281–282; 290; her use of the rhetorical term “verosimilitud” being apt: 281, 286; “verosímil”, 282, 286); Maestro (“Metafísica” 346; 350; 352; but problematically at personaje 86). Withal, Küpper’s remark on the drama’s ‘disinterest in mimetic concerns’ must be borne in mind; spec. as to the affair—since “beide Liebende, auch Melibea, [‘sich’] ohne erkennbares Motiv dem sozial akzeptierten Weg der Werbung verweigern” (“Ordnung” 183). 113 See Blumenberg (Legitimität 181; Arbeit 681); also subchs. 3.2, 4.4–5, 5.1.1, herein. 114 Otherwise in Aristotle (“Poetics” 55, 1450b, §7). 115 Cf. “dieses Stück [‘synthetisiert’] die gesamte Handlung aus nichts als kontingenten Ereignissen […], aus einer kaum absehbaren Vielzahl singulärer kontingenter Situationen, die sich überlagern, in Art einer absoluten Kontingenz, welche dem Resultat der Ereignisse jede nachvollziehbare ‘Notwendigkeit’ nimmt” (“Ordnung” 191). “Das Tragische ist immer ein Exzeptionelles […]. Die Schrecklichsten Ereignisse entziehen sich der Kategorie des Tragischen, wenn sie in Serie auftreten [sc. ‘Paradigmatisierung’]” (“Ordnung” 204n., with 204). 116 Cf. Leube: “dem Tod des Calisto gesellt sich als ironisches Element das Signum des Banalen, Alltäglichen, Zufälligen bei” (Fortuna 285). 117 Spec. in view of the fact that “monotheism signifies […] to be stylizing contingency into a figure of God” (Küpper “Episteme” 118; trans. dsm). See Marquard: “wir [Menschen] sind stets mehr unsere Zufälle als unsere Leistungen” (Skepsis 63). “Denn die Menschen sind nicht nur ihre – absichtsgeleiteten – Handlungen, sondern auch ihre Zufälle, ihre Kontingenzen” (Graevenitz/Marquard “Vorwort” XIII; with Wetz “Begriffe” 32). Above all, cf. Marquard’s essay “Apologie des Zufälligen” (Apologie 117–139). For further references, see subch. 4.5, herein. 118 Cf. the sententia attributed to “Appius Claudius Caecus”: “fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae” (qtd. in: Ps.-Sallust 444–445, I.2; with 444n.). See the onset of subch. 11.1, herein. Regarding the protagonist in question, see Di Camillo’s provocative formula: “una ‘mulier

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literally in spite thereof—coincidences constantly get in their way, with the results ultimately being fatal for the main characters.119 In dialog, the play’s onset is later explained as—having been—altogether fortuitous. The past is ‘necessitated’ indeed—but in terms of something like a ‘hindsighted’ contingency. Pármeno points out to his master (and to recipients): “the other day your fine falcon broke free and looking for it was the cause of your going into Melibea’s garden” (C [Peden] 44, II).120 Yet this apparent ‘reason’ is actually devoid thereof. Calisto could have sought the bird elsewhere—or not at all (delegating a servant, say).121 He might have simply let it fly; or—depending on the setting—not even noted, else cared about, its absence; and so forth.122 Insofar as there is no remote, noetic control

|| faber’, si me permiten el barbarismo, más que ‘fabra’” (“libertinaje [1999]” 74; cf. “libertinaje [2001]” 587). As to Lucretia in a similar respect, cf. subchs. 7.1.1, 7.2.3, herein. 119 See Küpper’s enumeration of the contingent events in the play (“Ordnung” 191n.). 120 Cf. “das Interferieren der Kontingenz, das mit dem Flug eines Falken beginnt” (Küpper “Ordnung” 199n.). In dialog, Pármeno states: “porque perderse el otro día el neblí fue causa de tu entrada en la huerta de Melibea a le buscar” (C [Severin] 134–135, II). See Lida de Malkiel (“técnica” 286); Pattison (322); Severin’s gloss: “Es la primera vez que se hace mención en el texto a la pérdida del halcón, causante del encuentro de los dos amantes” (C [Severin] 134n.– 135n.). It seems significative that this is Calisto’s ‘own’ bird of prey (‘suyo’: C [Severin] 85, “Argumento del primer auto”; with Russell’s gloss at C [Russell] 225n.; also Martínez Torrejón 177, 177n.). See the reaccentuation in a French rendition: “à la poursuite d’un de ses faucons” (C [Heugas] 125). Contrast Singleton, omitting the possessive pronoun: “Calisto enters a garden in pursuit of a falcon” (C [Singleton] 15, ‘Act I, Summary’). Mabbe’s Early Modern version elides the reference: “entering into a garden after his usual manner” (C [Mabbe] 23, ‘Actus 1. The Argument’; Calisto’s “hawk” will later appear in dialog: 87, II; likewise C [Hartmann/Fries] 7; but cf. 52). Severin’s diligence observes that Mabbe does add the “[hawk]” in the aforesaid locus, albeit only in (his) ms. The ed. by Pérez Fernández does not seem to register the latter (cf. Mabbe 83; but see the former’s explanations: “Intro.” 13–17; spec. 17). Leube logs “daß dem Garten […] eine markierte Bedeutung zukommt” (see “leitmotivische Funktion”, Fortuna 277). 121 Sempronio seems to use a reference to the “girifalte” as an excuse for his absenteeism (C [Severin] 87, I; cf. Severin “Celestina’s audience” 203–204). 122 Using the falcon as a pretext for entering the garden cannot be excluded as a basically conceivable—as well as typically human—option, generally speaking. Concerning ‘fabricated accidents’, see subch. 3.1; as well as the onsets of 7 and 8, herein. The bawd suggests as much to the aforesaid servant—substituting a crafted version for the bird of prey: “un arco para andarte de casa en casa tirando a páxaros y aojando páxaras a las ventanas. Mochachas, digo, […] de las que no saben bolar, que bien me entiendes. Que no ay mejor alcahuete para ellas que un arco, que se puede entrar cada uno hecho moxtrenco como dizen: en achaque de trama” (C [Severin] 173, V; cf. Severin “Humour [1979]” 281; “humor [2001]” 337; “Celestina’s audience” 198). Pertinently, Gilman: “the search for an arrow lost […] over a wall is an ideal excuse for striking up an acquaintance; she has referred to ‘mochachas’ as ‘páxaras’ precisely because

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over this animal of prey, or its will (leaving shamanism aside), a random—while hardly unnatural—event conduced to an (entirely) chance encounter.123 At the metalevel, this might have been else (in terms of outcome); or failed to happen.124 Regarding the storyline—and likewise in the contemporaneous || they can be hunted with a bow and arrow. […] the arrow might be characterized as a kind of poor man’s falcon” (Art 32; with 34). In Celestina’s opening scenario, such a setup might be somewhat unlikely, as far as Calisto’s intratextually discernible héxis is concerned. Metapoetically, this is rather precisely what occurs (generally, cf. Di Camillo “La péñola” 121– 122). Then again, as Martínez Torrejón observes: “el comienzo in medias res no nos permite saber qué hubo antes del encuentro del jardín” (177n.; see the context). 123 The intercalated qualification may seem needful, here. For Celestina (mainly the resp. protagonist) makes several references to sorcery sensu lato; magic (like mythology) being a noetic means for perceiving causality in all things—and spec. in such as would else appear to be patently ‘unmotivated’. Generally, see Penzkofer/Matzat: “Magie ist wahrscheinlich im Siglo de Oro durchaus noch partiell mit Erfahrungswissen identifizierbar” (2). “Von Hexen und Zauberern bevölkert ist die Welt der einfachen Menschen. […] Das Wissen der Gelehrten und die Überzeugungen der Volkskultur überschneiden sich vielfach […], mit fließenden Übergängen” (Penzkofer “Zauberer” 131–132). Cf. “Im Spanien des Siglo de Oro ist das Syndrom ‘Magie’ von hoher Relevanz” (Küpper “Magie” 194); particularly since the resp. “gedanklichen Operationen […] anschlußfähig sind an akzeptierte, […] sogar hochlegitimierte Formen der Rede” (“Magie” 200). See Menéndez Pelayo: “en aquella edad todo el mundo creía en agüeros, sortilegios y todo género de supersticiones” (Orígenes III. XCV; La Celestina 138). The essentializing drift of his context ad locum is gratuitous (Orígenes III. XCIV–XCV; spec. “Hay en Celestina un positivo satanismo”, XCIV; La Celestina 136–138; here 136); as the scholar himself insinuates—“Ciertamente que nada de esto era necesario: todo lo que pasa en la Tragicomedia pudo llegar a término sin más agente que el amor mismo” (Orígenes III. XCV; La Celestina 138). Cf. López Grigera (“Causas” 115; 120–121; 124); Canet (205–208; 211–212; 217). Menéndez Pelayo’s aforecited “era” may be taken to refer to his own construal, rather than to the text itself. Withal, the “agente” might be “amor”, inasmuch as the latter amounts to one among the figurations of sheer contingency. In general, Penzkofer observes that (narrative) references to performances or practitioners of magic (sensu lato) might fulfill the following “functions”: “legitimization, explication or compensation” (“Zauberer” 132; trans. dsm; cf. spec. 145, 148, 152). A heuristic application to Celestina may suggest itself. 124 There was no necessity involved: the event could have happened any other way. Küpper stresses that this outcome is the least likely. For they might have taken the “socially acceptable path of [legitimate, official] wooing” (“Ordnung” 183; trans. dsm); and sans (significant) hindrance: “Es wird vielmehr ausdrücklich artikuliert, daß die üblichen Schranken, die die Liebe zu einer verbotenen Liebe und damit erst recht eigentlich zum literarischen Sujet machen, hier nicht existieren. Sozial sind die zwei Liebenden ebenbürtig. Es gibt zwischen den Familien keine Berührungspunkte, mithin auch keine tradierte Feindschaft. Melibea ist keineswegs bereits einem anderen versprochen“ (“Ordnung” 183n.–184n.; cf. 201–202). The only (while hardly insurmountable) rub could be located in the lady’s (resp. Pleberio’s) material wealth: Melibea is “sublimada en próspero estado”; Calisto “de stado mediano” (C [Severin] 82, “Argumento” of the overall play).

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reception—it seems to have been deemed needful that a (nominal, putative) catalyst be found.125 Hence the reader is confronted with an editorial preamble, functionally superstructuring the overall play: “As the beginning of all this, adverse [F]ortun[a] provided an opportune time” (C [Peden] 3; from the précis of “The Full Plot”).126 The causative role is allotted to the—personified—goddess; specifically by splitting up her agency into (at least) two instances: expedient or detrimental (from the viewpoint of the concerned). In such or similar ways, “radical contingency” (Blumenberg Legitimität 181; trans. dsm) may be ‘distanced’ by division; checked—in name (see Arbeit 83).127 Tagging something is a first step toward making it necessary—be it called ‘God’, ‘Nature’, or the like.128 A label is a type of linguistic “depotentiating” (Arbeit 33; trans. dsm; with 38, 74; Höhlen. 36–37)—‘fleeing’ (“Kontingenzflucht”, Arbeit 101) the “absolutism of factuality” (Arbeit 9; trans. dsm); meaning, a form of “relief” therefrom (Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” xix; trans. dsm).129 || 125 Generally, see Küpper as to “wortgewandte[…] Re-Interpretationen des Wahrnehmbaren” (“Magie” 205). Rhetorical techniques are capable of countering contingency; and typically do so, more or less efficiently—wherefore any exception to this rule will stand to reason all the more. Hence the stark experience of sheer “Faktizität” (“Magie” 205)—sometimes even in hindsight. Then again, human ingenuity knows no bounds; also—or especially—not with respect to fabricating causalities retrospectively. Anything is usually considered more palatable—and (literally) plausible—than contingency ‘pure and simple’. 126 “Para comienço de lo qual dispuso el adversa Fortuna lugar oportuno” (C [Severin] 83, “Argumento” of the overall play; the formula “adversa Fortuna” recurs in the opening dialog, 87, I). Cf. “Entrando CALISTO una huerta empos dun falcon suyo” (C [Severin] 85, “Argumento del primer auto”; a structural parallel occurs in the dialog, with Sempronio’s following reference or pretext: “Abatióse el girifalte”, 87, I). The aforesaid prosopopoiía is crucial; and clear from the collocation, even should the—pertinent—capitalization be Severin’s; see Russell’s apposite gloss (C [Russell] 224n.; his ed. has “el adversa fortuna”, 224; likewise: C [Marciales] 15; C [RAE] 24; “la [resp. el] aduersa fortuna”, Comedia [Rank] 91; with 209n.; Tragicomedia [Criado/Trotter] 19; C [Cejador] I 28); see also Mendoza Negrillo (242). Contrast Cohen, giving the resp. line as follows: “The tale begins with an unlucky accident” (C [Cohen] 17, ‘Argument of the Work’). Similarly: “Vom Unglück umstellt schien der Ort zu sein” (C [Hartmann/Fries] 4). Vogelgsang’s rendition brings out the personification, but changes the discursive reference decisively—and misleadingly: “das feindselige Geschick [‘sorgte’] für den geeigneten Ausgangspunkt” (C [Vogelgsang] 21). ‘Fate’ is precisely not the point. 127 Cf. Marquard (“Entlastung [1998]” xix–xxi); Küpper (“Ordnung” 181n.; 223n.). 128 “Der Schrecken, der zur Sprache zurückgefunden hat, ist schon ausgestanden” (Blumenberg Arbeit 41). “Die Welt mit Namen zu belegen, heißt, das Ungeteilte aufzuteilen und einzuteilen, das Ungriffige greifbar, obwohl noch nicht begreifbar zu machen” (Arbeit 49). 129 With context: “Dieser Grundgedanke der Philosophie von […] Blumenberg […] scheint mir der Gedanke der Entlastung vom Absoluten. Die Menschen halten das Absolute nicht aus. Sie müssen – in verschiedenster Form – Distanz zu ihm gewinnen” (“Entlastung [1998]” xix). Cf.

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The second contingent event of particular significance for the plot is immediately (re)interpreted in terms of agency.130 Precisely when Celestina— with the aim of gaining access to the young lady—happens to be speaking with the latter’s mother, Alisa is suddenly called away to her ailing sister: ALISA. Hija Melibea, quédese esta mujer honrrada contigo, que ya me parece que es tarde para yr a visitar a mi hermana, su mujer de Cremes, que desde ayer no la he visto, y tanbién que viene su paje a llamarme, que se le arrezió desde un rato acá el mal. CELESTINA. (Por aquí anda el diablo aparejando oportunidad, arreziando el mal a la otra. Ea, buen amigo, tener rezio, agora es mi tiempo o nunca; no la dexes; llévamela de aquí a quien digo). (C [Severin] 153, IV)131 ALISA.

Daughter Melibea, keep this honorable woman with you, for it is already late for me to visit my sister, the wife of Cremes, whom I have not seen since yesterday; she has sent her page to fetch me for she has taken a turn for the worse. CELESTINA (apart). Ah, the Devil is hereabouts, providing an opportunity for me by making the sister’s illness worse. Ho, good friend. Be steadfast! This is […] [my] time, now or never. Stay with her; you, the one I am addressing, take her [sc. Alisa] away from here. (C [Peden] 61, IV)

Leaving aside the metaphysical superstructuring—a particular, perspectival, contingent attribution that might as well be else—this is a sheer coincidence. It just so happens to trouble some, while suiting another (as will typically be the case). Functionally, the example seems equivalent to Aristotle’s description of contingency qua fortuitous meeting of (unrelated) causal chains. Celestina immediately overwrites the occurrence in terms of necessity—here represented by an otherworldly agent. Such is just—more precisely, already—a construal.132 Be the latter as it may: said concurrence is decisive for the further || subchs. 10.1, 11.2.3, herein. As to an application of the concept “Absolutismus der Wirklichkeit” (Blumenberg Arbeit 9; 14), see Küpper (“Ordnung” 173n.; 180–181, 181n.; “Performanz” 15). 130 Inexplicably, Alisa permits Celestina to enter the house. As per Küpper, this will likely be non-mimetic with regard to the ‘contemporary social factuality’ (“Ordnung” 184). Concerning the mother’s “silent complicity”, Gerli speculates about “Alisa’s questionable prior association with Celestina”; raises “suspicions of her dubious character and artfulness” (131). Such would exceed the textual givens (by far). Questionably, the critic seems to be importing motifs from other works, imposing them on that by Rojas; here, “instances of maternal collaboration in a daughter’s seduction” (131)—incl. from “Machiavelli’s Mandragola”, which Gerli apparently backdates to “1498” (132). Ever have contingencies conduced to conspiracy theories. 131 The notion of kairós is present, here. In connection with the diabolical invocations, the reference will be to Apoc 12:12 (“sciens quod modicum tempus habet”, Vulgate; “εἰδὼς ὅτι ὀλίγον καιρὸν ἔχει”, SBLGNT). Generally in this respect, see Blumenberg (Schiffbruch 85–87; Unbegrifflichkeit 104–105); with subchs. 7.2.2–3, and 9.1, herein. 132 Severin’s gloss seems (highly) problematic in taking the metaphysical as the only possible

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course of the action, since the procuress gains (unfiltered) access to Melibea that way. This plainly advances the love plot and its—incidentally disastrous— side effects, for practically all of the involved.133 Withal, contingency plays a decisive role in Celestina’s slaying, and the death of Calisto’s servants (Sempronio, Pármeno). First, it seems to be this once that the cunning bawd fails to veil her virtually unmitigated greed, by fobbing off anyone else with empty words, or inexpensive—typically delegated, luxuriarelated—rewards.134 Apparently, her prudent rationality is temporarily out of order (and “without motivation”, Küpper “Ordnung” 187; trans. dsm)—precisely || view: “Si el diablo no le está prestando ayuda a Celestina en estos momentos, Alisa puede ser acusada de estupidez casi criminal (Gilman […]). Según Russell […], el comportamiento de la madre de Melibea, a pesar de los avisos de Lucrecia, sólo es explicable como consecuencia de una influencia sobrenatural; y así lo reconocerá Celestina inmediatamente” (C [Severin] 153n.– 154n.). With Gilman (Spain 251); Russell (Temas 263; “La magia [2001]” 304; “La magia [1963]” 351); also Severin (“Witch” 423). Their common source seems to be Menéndez Pelayo: “Ciertos rasgos […] sólo pueden legitimarse admitiendo que Melibea […] obedece a una sugestión diabólica” (Orígenes III. XCV; La Celestina 137–138). Contrary to the judgment of said critics, there seems to be no need on the part of scholarship to essentialize a contingent event. The other extreme will be no less problematic: “La madre de Melibea tiene de héroe trágico la ingenuidad con que se niega a ver que Celestina está tendiendo ante sus propios ojos las redes con que atrapará su hija” (Martínez Torrejón 185). See Shipley’s sober observation: “Celestina habla a Plutón como Pleberio a Amor, y los resultados son equiparables puesto que sus experiencias indican que su mundo no está vigilado ni por fuerzas divinas ni socavado por fuerzas infernales” (“Autoridad” 574; with “Authority” 107). Generally thereto, cf. Maestro (“Metafísica” 349–352, 350n.; personaje 86–88), cum grano salis. 133 “Das Ergebnis […] am Ende des Dramas […] ist Resultat des Zusammentreffens isolierter Ereignisse, die so, aber auch anders hätten zusammentreffen können und die in anderer Koinzidenz ganz andere Ergebnisse gezeitigt hätten” (Küpper “Ordnung” 194; on Aristotle‘s view, 194n.). Generally: “eine[n] fiktionalen Text […] [‘hätte’] der Autor an jeder Stelle anders […] schreiben können” (“Magie” 212n.). Still, “wir haben nur, was er geschrieben hat” (“Magie” 219). Questions as to potential latencies tend to arise when “nichts in der Logik des Erzählten […] dazu [sc. a resp. thought, word, event, structure, etc.] genötigt [‘hätte’]” (“Magie” 220). 134 See spec. Küpper: “dieses punktuelle Ausfallen von Celestinas zentraler Fähigkeit, der dissimulatio” (“Ordnung” 187n.). Her avaritia shows throw previously, but is quickly glossed over (cf. chiefly C [Severin] 173, V; with Lida de Malkiel “técnica” 289). Generally, see Kohut: “Sie selbst wird von einer unersättlichen Habgier getrieben” (76). Recompenses do not usually cost her much, in that they are (in turn) delegated to—and (physically) performed by—others (resp. their bodies). Had the bawd been in her sound (if not right) mind, she might have discerned that these pusillanimous servants were in need of reasserting their damaged sense of ‘masculinity’. Given her characteristic disrespect for the will of others, she may well have found a functional (while immoral) ‘remedy’—at another’s expense (rather than her own). At all times have there been retailers in the business of erecting compensational, vicarious, auxiliary arrangements. Not all are necessarily unethical. Cf. subchs. 10.4, 12.1, 12.4, herein.

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on this, particularly problematic night.135 Not only outspoken as to her avarice, she openly—and altogether inexpediently—derides her ‘business partners’.136 The fallouts are immediately lethal—another hardly necessary result. For it just so happens that Sempronio and Pármeno are highly irascible due to their nightly activities (and floundering).137 While manifestly under the influence of the most noxious drug in existence—human emotions, and wrath especially— they had not exactly acquired a reputation for getting their hands dirty. Hence the severe, irrevocable quality of their deed—on this specific occasion—might still seem rather unexpected, if not gratuitous. Granting that the servants were acting on impulse, from a sense of humiliation, and in the heat of the moment, some unarmed, rough-and-ready manhandling would else appear to have been likelier—qua more in line with their general comportment (héxis).138

|| 135 See Sepúlveda: “Celestina no sólo seduce a Melibea, sino que demuestra una superioridad dialéctica y vivencial sobre todos los personajes que la rodean, salvo en el momento supremo de la muerte, en el que la avaricia, al cegarla, la sitúa a la misma altura de los criados” (473n.). Cf. Severin (“Witch” 423; but also 421); her context cum grano salis. Lida de Malkiel observes: “Peculiar de la Tragicomedia es el irónico contraste entre el cálculo y la serie fatal de los hechos que burla su fútil esfuerzo. Celestina se empeña en sellar la amistad entre los dos sirvientes no por amor a la paz, sino para despejar el terreno de adversarios que le impidan esquilmar a Calisto. Lo que, a pesar de toda su sagacidad, no puede prever es que los sirvientes, aliados gracias a su mediación, se concertarán contra ella; es su propia obra, la unión de la fuerza adulta de Sempronio y de la malicia juvenil de Pármeno, lo que le quitará la vida” (“técnica” 287–288; with 289). In general, the notion that “Celestina” is (otherwise) “simulating reason” will be D. C. Clarke’s exclusively (85). 136 “Celestina fällt also nicht einem moralischen Fehlverhalten, sondern einer punktuellen Nicht-Berücksichtigung der Interessenlage ihrer Kumpane, d.h. einem ohne Motivierung bleibenden Ausfallen derjenigen taktischen Fähigkeiten zum Opfer, deren virtuoser Entfaltung sie all ihre Erfolge als Kupplerin verdankt” (Küpper “Ordnung” 187). He logs that Elicia may have heard further imprudent ‘free speech’ on the bawd’s part, relevant to said situation: “y aun descubriendo otras cosillas de secretos, que, como dizen, riñen los comadres” (C [Severin] 297, XV; see Küpper “Ordnung” 187n.). Celestina would have effected the desengaño herself. 137 Withal, the reference to Pármeno’s mother Claudina—which seemed to have worked in the bawd’s favor before—here causes the lad’s already brimming anger to overflow: “CELESTINA. […] la desdichada de tu madre. […] PÁRMENO. ¡No me hinches las narizes con essas memorias; si no, embiarte he con nuevas a ella, donde mejor te puedas quexar!” (C [Severin] 273, XII). Cf. Severin’s gloss: “Vale la pena hacer notar que Pármeno pierde finalmente el control cuando Celestina le recuerda a su madre demasiado a menudo” (C [Severin] 273n.). “The unbearable memory of his mother’s shame drives him to kill his surrogate mother Celestina” (“Witch” 423); the context is highly problematic. Hints may conduce to hypotheses—not baseless speculation. 138 Then again, as Aristotle states (with Agathon): “it is probable that many things should infringe probability [‘εἰκὸς (…) γίνεσθαι πολλὰ καὶ παρὰ τὸ εἰκὸς’]” (“Poetics” 94–95, 1456a, §19; cf. Rhet. 316–317, 1400a, II.xxiii.22). See subchs. 3.2 and 4.3; also 2.2, herein.

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After Celestina’s slaughter, another happenchance ‘determines’ the further course of events decisively (see Küpper “Ordnung” 188). In Elicia’s formulation, describing the incidents to Areúsa (looking back to the twelfth act): Ellos, como ovieron hecho el delicto, por huyr de la justicia, que acaso passava por allí, saltaron de las ventanas y quasi muertos los prendieron, y sin más dilación los degollaron. (C [Severin] 297, XV; see Sosia’s account at 280, XIII) They, as they had committed the crime and needed to flee from the constable who by chance was passing by, leapt from the windows, and were nearly dead when they were taken and without further delay beheaded. (C [Peden] 202–203, XV)

Misjudging the situation—feeling culpable after the assassination, trying to flee—they sign their own death sentence. An accident leads to their injury at the site of the crime; then to summary decapitation.139 It is also significant that Elicia is narrating in hindsight. With considerable facility, she might have inserted an interpretive signifier—such as ‘God’, the ‘Devil’, ‘Fortuna’, or any other name for a putative causality—thereby to make sense of said events. Instead, it seems to her that this was a concatenation of coincidences with negative consequences; at any rate, “by chance” (“acaso”).140 The haphazard demise of these servants is critical, as Calisto must replace them for his nocturnal undertakings. When retrospectively narrating the events to her father—right before leaping from the tower—Melibea stresses this very substitution. It figures as an item in a listing of several—inconclusive—attempts at explaining Calisto’s accident and death in causal (meaning, rational) terms: Y como esta passada noche viniesse según era acostumbrado, a la buelta de su venida, como de la fortuna mudable stoviesse dispuesto y ordenado según su desordenada costumbre, como las paredes eran altas, la noche scura, la scala delgada, los sirvientes que traýa no diestros en aquel género de servicio y él baxava pressuroso a ver un ruydo que con sus criados sonava en la calle, con el gran ímpetu que levava no vido bien los passos, puso el pie en vazío y cayó, y de la triste caýda sus más escondidos sesos quedaron repartidos por las piedras y paredes. Cortaron las hadas sus hilos; cortáronle sin confessión su vida; cortaron mi sperança; cortaron mi gloria; cortaron mi compañía. (C [Severin] 334, XX)141

|| 139 Gilman stresses that there are “four deaths by falling (although the servants officially are executed, it is significant that Rojas chooses to make a fall the efficient cause of their demise)”; and generally observes: “The allegorical fall from fortune’s wheel becomes an actual fall” (Art 128; cf. Leube Die “Celestina” 48; 51; Fortuna 285–286). Pertinently, Gilman asks: “why should he [sc. ‘Rojas’] overlook the evident possibilities of drawing a moral” (“Fortune” 348). 140 Even the notion, ascription of contingency is subject to the same: it might as well be else. 141 Also in syntactic respects, one is dealing with an explicative interpolation as regards

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This past night he came as [he] was accustomed, and as he was preparing to take leave, and as was disposed and ordered by mutable Fortune, following her disorderly custom, the walls were high, the night dark, the ladder flimsy, the servants he brought not skilled in that manner of serving, and as he was descending hastily to investigate the noise his servants were raising in the street, in that great rush he did not see the rungs well. He put his foot between them and fell, and with that woeful fall the deepest recesses of his brain were scattered across rocks and walls. The Furies [sic; Fates] cut their [sic; his] threads; they cut short his life without confession, they cut short my hope, they cut short my glory, they cut short my accompaniment. (C [Peden] 240, XX)142

It is—highly—unlikely that she could have seen Calisto’s fall on the other side of the wall; much less in such detail, at night.143 Nor need one refrain from noting the downright conspicuous absence of the one cause standing most to reason.144 || ‘Fortuna’. Its workings are underwritten rhetorically by the chiasmus with a figura etymologica: “acostumbrado […] ordenado […] desordenada costumbre”. Enumerative parallelisms stress the serialization of contingent events (“las […] la […] la […] los”; “Cortaron”, etc.). On the latter, cf. Samonà (50). A conceptual need for cohesion qua management might be reflected rhetorically in a twofold figura etymologica: “sirvientes […] servicio”; “cayó […] caýda”. The order evidently lacking (while desired) in terms of content is produced formally. This might also be said of the paronomasía with alliteration (“passos, puso el pie”), aiming to causally tie together—qua ‘give a rationally legible account of’—these contingencies; similarly, the alliterative dicolon with the prior, quasi paronomastic, con-, assonance (“piedras y paredes” plus “repartidos por”). See Küpper: Calisto’s “Todessturz [‘gewinnt’] die Aura des Überflüssigen schlechthin” (“Ordnung” 202; cf. Leube Fortuna 285)—against claims deeming Celestina a tragedy. With López Grigera, it might be noted that “en la Comedia muere [Calisto] sin pedir ‘confesión’, aunque en las adiciones de la Tragicomedia pide ‘confesión’ al precipitarse al vacío” (“Causas” 114; cf. “sin confession”, Comedia [Rank] 197, XIV, stressed twice; iterated at 201, XV; with “¡Confessión!”, C [Severin] 326, XIX; Tristán twice insists that Calisto died “sin confessión”, 327, XIX; likewise Melibea at 334, XX; cf. Russell’s gloss, C [Russell] 587n.; Küpper “Ordnung” 195, 195n.). 142 Peden sacrifices accuracy to jingling when—not only misleadingly, but unsoundly—trans. “hadas” (‹ ‘fatum’, see the DRAE) as “Furies”. The latter also appear, in their proper place (cf. C [Severin] 147, III; C [Peden] 55; “furias”, C Comentada 173–174, 75v, III.25; as to the “hadas”, 497–498, 217r–v, XXI.17). While rather “readable” indeed (despite topical disclaimers at viii), Peden’s trans. is quite imprecise throughout. She inserts scenes, stage directions; alters the punctuation; adds emph. (sans indication); leaves out, or introduces phrases to render the text more explicit—at times with construing intent, apparently. Certain supplements may seem distortive, misguided, partial. The text’s various strata (versions, alterations, intercalations) are not identified. Nor are the requisite glosses provided: a hands-on ed.—hardly a scholarly one. 143 Her data are at second, third hand—from the servants, who would be subject to the same nocturnal conditions; and further murked by the commotion triggering the scene to begin with. 144 Cf. “καὶ μετὰ τὰ ἀφροδίσια οἱ πλεῖστοι ἀθυμότεροι γίνονται” (ps.-Aristotle “Problems II” 166, 955a, XXX.1). See Russell’s gloss (C [Russell] 587n.). Should she have been before, Melibea surely is innocent no longer. Rather than factoring in the setting—wherein she herself has had a hand (to say the least)—the lady relegates the responsibility to a variety of external agencies.

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Desperately trying to make sense of, and so cope with, (what is) a causally ‘inaccessible’ event (to her), Melibea gives a whole series of—more or less plausible—grounds.145 Separately, they might not have sufficed for a lethal fallout.146 Hence she stresses the role of Fortuna, attributing the happenings to a hypostatized entity. For purposes of pinning the blame, any other name would have done (some sort of Providence, say).147 One is facing a struggling attempt at ‘necessitating’ contingency in (so many) words—meaning, rhetorically.148 The extent of Melibea’s uncertainty may be intimated by her apparent need to cite further conceptualizations: the Fates of pagan, Greco-Roman mythology, hence a profoundly deterministic outlook; plus an allusion to an incompatible view or construal, the Christian one (“confessión”).149 Comparably, her father will inculpate Fortuna (in a ‘Medieval’ acceptation); then the World at large—as being all cruelty, deceit (engaño); and finally Love (for the same reasons).150

|| 145 Cf. Leube: “Die motivierenden Nebensätze sind in auffallender Parallelität angeordnet” (Fortuna 286). As to “contingent” qua yielding “no ‘order accessible […] to man’”, see Küpper (“Ordnung” 175; trans. dsm; citing Blumenberg Legitimität 194). Cf. subchs. 4.4, 4.5, herein. 146 After all, the fall itself need not have been (immediately) fatal—even granting Calisto’s depletion of strength and concentration due to certain preceding (inter)activities. 147 Not only will that which a text does articulate be significative; but also what it could, might (at times, even should) have stated—as the case or conditions may be (incl. discursively). 148 “Das eigentliche Dementi einer geordneten und auf diese Weise gerechten Welt wird aber erst in den Sequenzen entfaltet, die mit dem Tod des Liebespaares enden” (Küpper “Ordnung” 189); “es [‘sind’] erst die eingefügten Akte, die herstellen was wir die Modellierungsfigur der absoluten Kontingenz nennen” (“Ordnung” 191n.). Incidentally, the intercalated segments also elicit the play’s vicario-delegative groundwork most lucidly. 149 Contrast Green’s untenable (and untextual) harmonizing (Western Trad. III. 204; cf. 203). Discourse historically, the heterogeneity as to how one should or might read the world can be traced back to the rupture of the Scholastic order, effected from within this very orthodoxy by the consummate implementation of its tacit implications (see Blumenberg Legitimität 215; 403– 404): “Der Nominalismus ist ein System höchster Beunruhigung des Menschen gegenüber der Welt” (Legitimität 167); “das System der Systemdurchbrechungen” (Legitimität 215). “D[ie] Frage nach der göttlichen Allmacht […] [‘gew(a)nn’] im spätmittelalterlichen Nominalismus ihre destruktive Brisanz gegen das System des scholastischen Rationalismus” (Legitimität 380). “In der Vollendung der Scholastik ist das Potential ihrer Zerstörung schon latent” (Legitimität 392). See subch. 4.4, herein. Concerning the text at hand, Di Camillo similarly speaks of “una inquietud más general” (“libertinaje [1999]” 69; “libertinaje [2001]” 580); and stresses: “el material utilizado […] deriva de una multiplicidad de fuentes” (“libertinaje [1999]” 79–80; with “libertinaje [2001]” 594–595). He logs a “parodia extremadamente sacrílega con la cual el autor logra combinar la irreverencia religiosa con el ataque humanístico a la lógica de los escolásticos” (“libertinaje [1999]” 80; “libertinaje [2001]” 596). 150 “O fickle Fortune, agent and steward of earthly goods! […] had you, tempestuous Fortune, given me a sad youth and merry old age, you would not have perverted order” (C [Peden] 243–

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Melibea gives (at least) two readings of the various contingencies having (in)directly affected her: the first attributes them to the goddess of (bad) luck; the second to the Fates.151 Evaluations on the part of certain recipients represent another possibility. Severin (for instance) goes so far as to state that “the death of Calisto is accidental and almost comical” (“Intro.” 31; trans. dsm).152 While the latter part of that statement is not a necessary appraisal, it appears to be a conceivable one. Such already marks a general and common form of coping with (adverse) Fortune: here, by construing it as (all but) amusing. Nor is this the only way of ‘distancing’ the ‘absolutism’ of sheer chance.153 In its entirety, Celestina is based on—and propelled by—týche. The overall drama ‘stages’ this epistemic choice outright (see Küpper “Ordnung” 179; also 173n.–174n.; and 206).154 As provisionally suggested in subchapter 6.3 above, a considerable awareness thereto will be characteristic for cynicism qua stance. In a discourse historical perspective, the former may well seem conducive to the corresponding utterances. Downright reckoning with the future’s contingency— || 244, XXI). “¡O fortuna variable, ministra y mayordoma de los temporales bienes! […] diérasme, fortuna flutuosa, triste la moçedad con vejez alegre; no pervertieras la orden” (C [Severin] 338, XXI; as to the Dantean reference therein, see Küpper “Ordnung” 198n.). “¡O vida […] o mundo, mundo! […] tu engañosa feria […] trabajo sin provecho, dulce ponçoña, vana esperança, falsa alegría, verdadero dolor” (C [Severin] 338, XXI). “¡O amor, amor [!] […] Hazes que feo amen y hermoso les paresca. […] Esto todo [sc. the resp. deaths] causas. Dulce nombre te dieron, amargos hechos hazes” (C [Severin] 341, XXI). Saguar García stresses: “All characters deceive themselves and try to deceive the others” (69). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 125–126, 126n.; passim). 151 Generally, Rohde: “Dass Liebende immer wieder Vorsehung und Schicksal bemühen, um sich ihrer Liebe zu versichern […], bestätigt nur den Befund von grundsätzlicher Kontingenz und d[as] Bedürfnis des Menschen […] diese abzubauen” (35n.). Still: “Ereignisse geschehen, weil sie eben geschehen – und nicht weil eine verborgene Macht die Strippen zieht” (39). 152 “la muerte de Calisto es accidental y casi cómica” (Severin “Intro.” 31; with “Humour [1979]” 288; 291). Cf. Stern (196n.). The threshold and stimuli for hilarity will vary considerably. 153 See Blumenberg thereto (Arbeit 9; 14). As a structurally equivalent move, cf. what Küpper terms “Lida de Malkiel’s somewhat helpless attempts at deriving a Platonizing dimension from the [love] plot” (“Ordnung” 203n.; trans. dsm; with Brancaforte 119n.–120n.; generally, Leube Fortuna 275n.). Likewise Kilian: “With regard to the blunt sexual nature of his [sc. Calisto’s] desire, the Platoni[zing] distinctions between ‘shadow’ and ‘substance’ can only be interpreted as cynical” (24; referring to: C [Severin] 92, I). Eliding said absoluteness will seem needful. 154 Küpper’s thesis: “Celestina als Drama einer in ‘radikale Kontingenz’ […] gestellten Welt” (“Ordnung” 179; 173n.–174n.). Cf. “Texts that translate the Nominalist concept into aesthetic concretion […] are the Italian Renaissance novella, in part also the Cervantine novella, and […] Celestina (1499)—probably the first literary énonciation of the stage of disintegration in Spain” (Diskurs-Renovatio 272; trans. dsm; with 286; Discursive 263). “The world of Celestina[—]to the extent that it is a contingent [one], devoid of any metaphysical support[—]is a world of utmost bleakness and lack of perspective” (Diskurs-Renovatio 286; trans. dsm; Discursive 275).

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or perceiving it in hindsight (if survived)—tends to ‘chaotize’ the systematic, the previously established, the supposedly determined; to corrode the durability, hence the (communal) significance and value, of what just so happens to (still) be customary at a particular point in time.155 In this world, virtually anything might be otherwise; no longer; or not at all. Chancefulness reigns supreme. On occasion, a respective state of play or affairs might cause a proliferation of interpretive superstructures (beliefs, estimates, ascriptions, accountabilities, guesswork, theories, speculations)—as outlined above for the assorted coping strategies on the part of Melibea and her father.156 Not least, standards, mores, religions seem to disintegrate due to their ineffectiveness—notably, when it comes to dealing with (local, current, exigent) effects of contingency. In other cases, said relativizing—of the prevalent, while apparently or partly inapplicable, nómoi—may well result in a (verbal) flouting or deriding of the conventional.157 For the time that this, or a like discourse is still formally in place || 155 On the concept of ‘chaoticization’, see Küpper (Discursive 12–13; 14n.; 16; 253; 262; 267; 269n.; 270; 279–280; 287; 292; “Ordnung” 173n.–174n.; 179; 206; entfesselte Signifikanz 42; 54; 60; 62; 66; with 4, 49); Mayfield (Artful 195n.; 206n.; 436n.); and subch. 5.2 (spec. 5.2.1, 5.2.3). 156 Küpper describes ‘serialization’ as a device typical of Nominalism (“Ordnung” 204; 204n.; Discursive 262; 288). With respect to the present play, see the enumeratio of contingent events on Sempronio’s part: “Pues los casos de admiración, y venidos con gran desseo, tan presto como passados, olvidados. Cada día vemos novedades y las oýmos y las passamos y dexamos atrás. Diminúyelas el tiempo; házelas contingibles. ¿Qué tanto te maravillarías si dixiessen: la tierra tembló, a otra semejante cosa que no olvidasses luego? Assí como: elado está el río, el ciego vee ya, muerto es tu padre, un rayo cayó, ganada es Granada, el rey entra hoy, el turco es vencido, eclipse ay mañana, la puente es llevada, aquél es ya obispo, a Pedro robaron, Ynés se ahorcó, [Cristóval fue borracho]. ¿Qué me dirás, sino que a tres días passados o a la segunda vista no ay quien dello se maraville? Todo es assí, todo passa desta manera, todo se olvida, todo queda atrás” (C [Severin] 140–141, III; brackets around “Cristóval fue borracho” in the source; cf. Küpper “Ordnung” 203n.). In other (Horatian) words: “Nil admirari” (“Epistles” 286, I.vi.1; with “Epicuri de grege porcum”, 276, I.iv.16). On the text’s Epicureanizing tendencies, see Di Camillo, above all (“libertinaje [1999]” passim; spec. “corriente de ‘libre pensamiento’”, “libertinismo erudito”, 70; cf. 71, 72n., 77, 78n.–79n.; “libertinaje [2001]” passim; 580–582, 583n., 591, 593n.). The scholar stresses: “la versión del epicureísmo que se da en La Celestina no es la del filósofo griego” (“libertinaje [1999]” 78–79; with “libertinaje [2001]” 593). 157 “Es ist das Merkmal bestimmter Phasen der Diskurshistorie, daß diese Schemata der ReInterpretation [e.g. religion] nicht mehr greifen, daß sie keine Überzeugungskraft mehr entfalten” (Küpper “Ordnung” 181n.). “Kontingenzbewältigung durch Religion [‘ist’] eine […] Re-Interpretation” (“Ordnung” 181n.; cf. “Episteme” 117)—as to Fortuna (“Ordnung” 197); and in general (“Ordnung” 212; 222; 223n.; plus Marquard “Apologie” 130). “Religion ist unverzichtbar ein hermeneutisches Schema” (Küpper “Ordnung” 181n.). Cf. “Die Absage an das tradierte Weltmodell gerät umso schärfer, als dieses nicht in seiner Essenz, wohl aber in seiner Pertinenz bestritten wird” (“Ordnung” 185–186)—with spec. reference to the moralizing

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and use—while not fully in force—such ignoring or scorning of the established social norms (modes, mores) will tend to be perceived as cynical; and especially if an official code of conduct is (immediately) concerned.158

|| of luxuria. Also overall: “Diese Absage an das tradierte Konzept einer in ‘Freiheit’ gestellten, gleichwohl (wohl)geordneten Welt setzt in der Celestina auf mehreren, möglicherweise allen in dieser Hinsicht überhaupt einschlägigen Ebenen an” (“Ordnung” 186). “Ihren Anspruch gewinnt die Celestina nicht zuletzt dadurch, daß sie nicht nur das von ihr gemeinte Weltmodell mit aller Prägnanz inszeniert, sondern daß sie darüber hinaus die Gegenposition in die hier inszenierte Welt integriert und durch den Lauf der Ereignisse bewertet” (“Ordnung” 196; in another context: 205–206). By contrast: “Dantes Commedia gewinnt als moraltheologisches Lehrgedicht Sinnhaftigkeit einzig unter der Prämisse einer Welt-Ordnung der Art, wie sie etwa in der Celestina dementiert ist” (“Ordnung” 219n.). Generally thereto, see subch. 4.5, herein. 158 Cf. Mayfield (Artful 53).

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6.6 Cynicism in Celestina Nor can we allow to go unchallenged statements which have had too ready acceptance[.] —Green (Western Trad. II. 61)159

Articulating a (perceived) dysfunctionality of given means for checking chance, and ‘depotentiating’ contingency, the remarks to be described signal a decisive fragmentation of established orders and language regimes.160 While evoking ‘chaotized’ conditions, cynicism does not instate a novel ‘superstructure’; but works with the verbal(ized) debris of disintegrated discourses.161 To some extent at least, the utterances at issue seem incidental upshots of the aforesaid failure itself.162 One of the play’s pluralistic coping strategies amounts to quasi Humanistic enumerationes, serial citations, ceaseless listings, relentless floods of refunctionalized data and adages—floating ken or common

|| 159 Needless to say, that would comprise remarks by the same: “The moral purpose of […] Rojas in […] Celestina […] is unquestionable” (Western Trad. III. 435; cf. 459). Demonstrably the reverse—even sans subscribing to Gilman’s speculative hyperbole: “we have every right to suspect that instead of being moral in his intentions and modest in his self-estimation, the man […] hiding behind his prefatory role, was in reality both cynical and proud” (Spain 60; see 391). 160 Cf. Küpper on a “Befund des Ordnungsschwunds bzw. gar des Ordnungsverlusts”: “die Attribution dieses Qualitativs [‘kontingente Welt’] [ist] immer bezogen auf eine Interpretation von Welt, […] eine Vorstellung von Ordnung, deren Nicht- bzw. Nicht-mehr-Gegebensein mit der Rede signifiziert wird, die Welt sei kontingent” (“Ordnung” 179–180); “die Rede von einer in Kontingenz gestellten Welt [‘ist’] ein Interpretationsmodus des Gegebenen […], der immer auf eine vorausgesetzte Vorstellung einer Handeln ermöglichenden, gleichwohl verläßlichen Ordnung bezogen ist. […] Die Rede von Kontingenz ist eine Leerstelle der Codierung” (“Ordnung” 180). See Di Camillo: “los pronunciam[i]entos morales que se encuentran en la obra son demasiado heterogéneos para poder asignarlos a una determinada escuela ética” (“libertinaje [1999]” 78; cf. “libertinaje [2001]” 592–593). Round’s hyperbolic formula—“make nonsense of all traditional categories” (38)—does have a certain pertinence; the context is problematic. He also observes “that the values which matter in La Celestina are preponderantly those Stoic and Christian values which the fiction itself presents as inoperative” (40). 161 The tentative description of cynicism—by recourse to a heuristic classification into stance and statement—is adopted from a previous study (as briefly outlined in subch. 6.3, herein). See Mayfield (Artful 12–13; 18–55, spec. 53–55; and passim). 162 Tentatively, Küpper submits that “cynicism could be taken as one of the possible reactions to the experience of the world’s radical contingency, but it seems, indeed, not to be the only one conceivable. Pleberio’s concluding monolog is a document of sheer despair—so that the question of a viable way of coping with contingency remains open” (comments on the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2 and 6, 2020; trans. dsm). Perchance, one might say that the father deals with cynicism by ascribing (or even delegating) it to contingency ex- and incarnate: “Cata que Dios mata los que crió; tú [sc. Amor] matas los que te siguen” (C [Severin] 342, XXI).

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lore, circulating sayings, dicta, saws, or aphorisms from the contemporaneous ‘(virtual) cultural networks’.163 Semiotically coagulated conventions are utilized pervasively in articulate attempts at rejoining to contingencies. These instances, set pieces, loci, tópoi—decontextualized, misappropriated, boundless—have a distinct and describable function in terms of dealing with a world of chance. Occurring throughout the drama, there are densities especially towards its ending, where a respective awareness is exacerbated by eventful immediacies, heightened in hindsight. Along said lines, recipients are facing an upsurge of the corresponding utterances. Intratextually, said practice may seem to be assessed as futile, considering the plot’s outcome. Then again, the crafted work as a whole is also an arsenal of makeshift techniques factually employed. For the time being (of writing and reading), poetic contrarianism might countervail contingency.

6.6.1 Cynical Remarks Celestina is Spain’s finest orator[.] —Gilman (Spain 314)164

|| 163 A common appraisal of the former—qua encumbering, freighting the play and plot with unrelated textual matter—must be rejected. See Küpper’s pertinent assessment of such value judgments (“Ordnung” 196n.–197n.; 207n.–208n.); as well as his concept of ‘(virtual) cultural networks’ (Cultural Net passim); and Kilian’s recourse thereto regarding the drama at hand (15– 26; spec. 17, 20, 26). See ch. 7, herein. As to the above, Fothergill-Payne refers to a “great storehouse of quotations”; and suitably opts for “taking the sententiae as a point of departure” (Seneca xiv). She highlights “this potted wisdom […] ‘fontecicas de filosofía’ in Celestina […], making the book’s dialogues one long collage of sententiae” (Seneca 139; with “Séneca” 128); and calls “the sententia, the backbone of the text” (Seneca 143; plus “Séneca” 133). 164 Memorably, Fothergill-Payne refers to “Celestina and P[á]rmeno” as being “engaged in an unequal battle of quotemanship” (Seneca 140; with “Séneca” 129). See Shipley (“Autoridad” 573–575; “Authority” 106–108); spec. Fraker (77; plus 67–100 passim): “Celestina is rhetorical” (88). Pertinently, he logs: “rhetoric is indifferent to the character of the speaker or of his aims” (78). Cf. Navarro Gala (329–334; 333, cum grano salis). Illades Aguiar refers to “the procuress Celestina” as “an expert in the manipulation of language” (41); later value judgments (quasi to the contrary) may display a certain innocence as to rhetorical accommodatio (55–56). Gilman observes: “Cicero’s notion that the perfected orator was also a perfected human being may not have been shared by the more cynical among his student readers; but it contributed […] to a new assertion of the prestige of the spoken word” (Spain 314). The latter will be apposite; see subchs. 3.7 and 13.2, herein. Cf. Chevalier: “Otros [‘lectores’] se cuidarían menos de tan santas enseñanzas y se dedicarían preferentemente a la lectura de las escenas más desenfadadas y

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Although the ensuing dicta are more than half a millennium of age, some might offend the moral sense of a respectively contemporary readership or audience.165 For instance, one might plausibly record “the linguistic register’s unheard-of vulgarity” (Küpper “Ordnung” 202n.; trans. dsm; with 203n.).166 As concerns elucidating cynicism, such and similar responses on the part of diverse and diachronic recipients will always be of special significance per se.167 Approaching matters in a sober, hence scholarly manner entails proceeding as descriptively as possible. Consequently, value judgments are (here) reduced to a minimum; moralizing is omitted.168 This is needful with a view to exploring the functions and effectuality of cynical comments. || cínicas de la Tragicomedia. Los estudiantes […] de Salamanca no parecen orientarse […] hacia una lectura moral de las fechorías de la vieja y su rebaño” (617; the latter infinitized). 165 Acts of reception being contingent (upon hexicalized standards), not all of these passages need seem cynical to everyone. Results differ; (moral) responses may vary. In a dominantly secularized context, the play’s pervasive blasphemy would be received otherwise than in a largely religious one. Similarly, the drama’s crudity—its downright graphic explicitness—will meet (and has met) with diverse reactions diachronically. 166 Cf. Gracián: “De la Celestina y otros tales, aunque ingeniosos, comparó sus hojas a las del peregil, para poder passar sin asco la carnal grossería. —Estas otras, aunque vulgares, son picantes” (Criticón 375, II.iv; cf. Chevalier, 616). The rhétor’s agudeza may yield a condensed description of cynicism: “ingeniosos”, “carnal grossería”; “vulgares”, “picantes”—at once. 167 By and large, there seems to be a critical, scholarly consensus judging the work ‘cynical’— at least in part, and (resp. or) sensu lato. A most striking wording in this regard: “Rojas ve a su Celestina como una alta sacerdotisa del sexo cínico y el eje alrededor del cual giran incluso la Iglesia y la nobleza” (Márquez Villanueva 270). While some instances are to the point indeed, Gilman may seem to be using the term with an almost studied promiscuity (cf. e.g. Art 34; 41; 66; 79; 92–93; 95; 135; 170; 172; 228n.; most problematically at 87; see also “Rebirth” 291; 294; 304; Spain 60; 92; 144; 314; 371; 391; the employment at 387n. will be pertinent; with “Rojas como autor” 449n.). Similarly Bataillon, albeit for other (i.e. moralizing) reasons (e.g. 79; 88; 90; 104; 106n.; 117; 133; 138; 140; 141n.; 142; 148; 153; 223; 229; 261; 263; some are more or less to the point; most pertinently at 101). Perceiving an “unambiguous pessimism” as “mark[ing] the main part of the work”, Deyermond asserts: “Act I is consistent with what follows, but it would also be consistent with a light, cynical ending of the type found in humanistic comedy” (Sources 115n.; cf. “fuentes” 114n.). Routinely, value judgments cause needless issues. Similarly problematic is Round’s reference to Pármeno’s “mood of sullen and susceptible cynicism” (45). Pérez Fernández speaks of a “realismo crudo y un tanto cínico de la obra” (“impacto” 451); comparably Orduna (“crudamente”, “cínicas reflexiones”, 223). Incidentally, see the multiply mediated nexus of “celestina”, “cinismo”, recorded in Reyero (162; spelling thus). Referring to other appraisals, Samonà logs “il cinismo dei personaggi” (169n.). Gerli sees “Pleberio as the last remaining paradigmatic human subject in the world, left adrift in a fundamentally secular, hopelessly cynical universe moved wholly by insatiable want, which is but a mask for death” (217). Hardly will the lyricism hide the suspect anthropomorphism implied. 168 Cf. Blumenberg: “die Wissenschaftsidee der Neuzeit [ist] dadurch charakterisiert […], daß

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Indirectly, the phenomenon sheds light on the receiving standards.169 Rather than being based on the factual comportment of the populace (or certain parts thereof), it must be measured by (express) reference to codes of conduct as normally, officially perceived. Said utterances disparage, scorn, or ignore how a given society—even humankind—would wish to see itself; while simultaneously providing counsel as to ways for maximally exploiting those insights. Accordingly, cynical remarks tend to be received as indecorous imperatives, shockingly immoral advice. The pragmatic implications are always also present; and not to be spirited away. Whether—or not—such exist at all: these are surely not ‘aesthetic phenomena’ in the Kantian sense.170 The ensuing will continue to accentuate the rhetorico-discursive aspects, in that both pertain to the issue at hand. Precisely for this reason, the historical distance, alterity must be taken into account. It seems needful to signal where a statement would probably appear unpalatable in a contemporary perspective; while this may (not) have been the case during its time of conception—owing to contingent, hence varying standards and proclivities.171

|| sie auf eine Wertung ihrer Gegenstände […] verzichtet” (Legitimität 369). Arguably, (literary) criticism—so-called ‘Critiques’ a fortiori—have fallen behind this basic achievement. Withal, the valuative methods themselves must be subject(ed) to an equitable assessment indeed. While treating the (textual) artifacts under scrutiny as descriptively as possible, a scholar’s critical function is primarily directed at problematic slants in (ostensively) academic circles, centers, research (soi-disant). Not infrequently, gallingly politicized ‘engagement’ is utilized as a convenient excuse for decidedly abstaining from partaking in the disciplined, sober, and ceaseless work of description. Fashionable in certain quarters, the sectarian, anti-Humanistic instrumentalization of Blumenberg’s œuvre might be a particularly impertinent case in point. 169 How a text is read and received tends to reveal something about the moral proclivities or views of a resp. present. Obliquely, a past’s inaccessible alterity may well be rendered fruitful. In all likelihood, there will be productive potentials in almost any impasse. Generally, see ch. 7. 170 Contrast Kant (spec. KU 55, §4; 72, §11). Menéndez Pelayo’s tale of the play’s shortcomings (as per his aesthetic criteria) could accentuate the factual state of affairs ex negativo (as Küpper signals: “Ordnung” 191n.–192n.). Bataillon’s sermonizing displays that such was still being deemed a necessity in his day—as had been the case, to varying degrees, since Celestina’s first eds. Küpper notes “die Durchkreuzung der Didaxe durch die Modellierung der Ereignisse im Zeichen der Kontingenz”—the latter being ‘faded out’ by ‘moralizing readings’ (“Ordnung” 188n.; cf. 185–186, 194n.). Similarly Di Camillo (“libertinaje [1999]” 77; “libertinaje [2001]” 591). 171 See Rorty: “the demands of a morality are the demands of a language[;] […] languages are historical contingencies” (Contingency 60; infinitized). Cf. subch. 6.3. The nineteenth century (e.g.) seems to have felt that explicit mentions of bodily functions were cynical; e.g. vulgarity, crudity, especially obscenity (in fecal, sexual respects). See Niehues-Pröbsting: “Unter dem ‘Zynischen’ begriff Jean Paul die in ästhetischer Distanzierung und Freiheit thematisierte Natur vor allem geschlechtlicher Vorgänge” (Kynismus 264); “[er] hat den Begriff in die Ästhetik

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Despite differences between present and ‘Renaissance’ assumptions, there may seem to be a certain continuity, simply due to the relative stability of the basic ground swell that is ‘Western ethics’.172 To a considerable extent, presentday societies (still) share this undercurrent with Early Modern times: in theory, if not deed.173 Since the—philosophico-theoretical, literary, also theological— sources are largely the same, the discursive foundations remain comparable, for the most part. In the Occident, ethical postulates will have two principle pillars: the Judeo-Christian legacy, and the Greco-Roman heritage—more precisely, the Platonico-Socratic, Aristotelian, and Stoic strands (including overlaps).174 Indubitably, there are also significant discontinuities. Yet for diverse reasons—typically due to vulgarization with a view to maximal divulgation—the subtleties are usually not handed down in such and similar matters.175

|| eingeführt” (Kynismus 340); “[und] versteht […] unter Zynismus die von keinem Tabu zensierte Thematisierung sexueller und ekelhafter Gegenstände” (Kynismus 341–342; with Jean Paul 6– 8). The former also points to Freud (Kynismus 350–353). Cf. “Unter den Institutionen, die der zynische Witz anzugreifen pflegt, ist keine wichtiger, eindringlicher durch Moralvorschriften geschützt, aber dennoch zum Angriff einladender als das Institut der Ehe, dem also auch die meisten zynischen Witze gelten. Kein Anspruch ist ja persönlicher als der auf sexuelle Freiheit, und nirgends hat die Kultur eine stärkere Unterdrückung zu üben versucht als auf dem Gebiete der Sexualität” (Freud Der Witz 125; generally in this respect: 110–111, 119, 129, 149). Needless to declare, said field is of wide and particular relevance to, for, in Celestina. 172 Qua general caveat, see Piché/Lafleur, in a basically affine context: “Évidemment, il est impossible de faire revivre concrètement devant nous les mœurs de l’époque. Le seul champ d’investigation que nous pouvons traverser pour accéder à ces temps disparus est celui que délimite l’univers des discours: notre ‘immoraliste’, s’il existe, ne pourra être qu’un personnage propositionnel, une personnalité discursive” (229). 173 As to Early Modern Spain, a well-known example of historical distance and (moral) alterity may be encountered in the various conceptions of ‘honor’. For a detailed discussion in this regard, see Küpper (Diskurs-Renovatio 385–389; 393–397; Discursive 378–381; 386–390). Peden’s view amounts to a problematic oversimplification—“two words crucial to Celestina’s world: honor and love. The codes of that time are very clear” (vii). Such and similar innocences cannot but seem misleading; or else have such fallouts. 174 Cf. what Niehues-Pröbsting (aptly) terms “‘high cultural ethics’” qua “predominantly the inheritance of Platonism, Christianity and the Enlightenment” (“Differenz” 75; trans. dsm). As to the text at hand, see Schalk: “dem biblischen oder antiken Pathos, das aus Celestina spricht, eilt ein heimtückischer Gedanke voraus, der sich ironisch einer Sprache bedient, die statt die Personalunion zwischen Denken und Handeln herbeizuführen, nur die Kluft zwischen beiden immer wieder vergrößert” (xv). Thereto, see spec. subch. 6.6.1.3, herein. 175 Cf. “Rezeption […] läßt sich zunächst charakterisieren als Verlust an Differenzierung”; “[die] durch ihre rhetorische Formulierung oft zu praktikablen Zitaten disponierten Stellen werden zu Sentenzen skelettiert”; “Substanzverlust auf dem Traditionsweg erleichtert den

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Consequently, there tend to be some basic carryovers, which one could call ‘superficial’ only prima facie. For foundations must be solid; hence not unduly refined (much less hairsplitting), if they are to hold.176 With Scripture and Ancient (moral) philosophy as provisional benchmarks, one might venture certain general observations.177 These will have to be honed for specific cases.178 Written by an anonymus after 1550, recourse to the Early Modern Celestina Comentada is indispensable in said regard.179 Generically, the asides on the part of (virtually) all characters in Celestina must be accentuated, since such seem conducive to cynical statements.180 For || Funktionswandel” (Blumenberg Legitimität 377; infinitized). The resp. observations will be of general applicability. See also subchs. 5.2 and 11.1, herein. 176 Subtleties have a tendency of adorning the edifice, rather than providing firm ‘footing’; or being conducive to the structure’s statics. Generally thereto, cf. Blumenberg (“Einspruch” 174– 175; “Augustins Anteil” 38; Wende 101). 177 See Di Camillo’s expedient essay (“libertinaje [1999 and 2001]” passim). ‘Calling attention to’ “las polémicas entre las escuelas éticas durante el siglo XV” (“libertinaje [1999]” 73; cf. 74; “libertinaje [2001]” 585; 587), the scholar discerns “una […] actitud mental […] que parece negar, o por lo menos oponerse, a todo un sistema de valores tradicionales consagrados por la Iglesia y garantizados por siglos de inmutables convenciones sociales” (“libertinaje [1999]” 69; “libertinaje [2001]” 580); “entre las burlas y risas […], se están cuestionando principios y creencias pertenecientes a la esfera de lo sagrado, patrimonio cultural defendido por siglos de especulación teológica” (“libertinaje [1999]” 78; with “libertinaje [2001]” 593). 178 This is not to sideline Petrarca, whose De remediis utriusque fortunae is a pivotal intertext for Celestina (see Küpper “Ordnung” 208n.). Said work shares the resp. background to a considerable extent (“Ordnung” 207–210; 207n.–210n.). Generally, cf. Deyermond (Sources passim); Severin: “Con todo, ha de decirse que la fuente principal de Rojas es Petrarca” (“Intro.” 44). A detailed reconsideration seems needful, but must delegated (at this point). 179 On the dating, see Fothergill-Payne et al. (xv; xix–xx). Pertinently, the eds. observe: “El comentarista prefiere glosar los pasajes de La Celestina de carácter sentencioso, cuya rectitud doctrinal corrobora alegando multitud de auctoritates. Éstas proceden básicamente de tres grandes grupos de textos: los de autores clásicos griegos y latinos; la Biblia y los Padres de la Iglesia; las fuentes legales. En menor medida aduce también textos clásicos de medicina y de autores humanísticos contemporáneos” (xvii). Cf. Fernández Rivera: “Celestina had […] the added value of serving as a quasi-compendium, given the multitude of sentences it contained” (“Closet” 13n.). See spec. Saguar García as to the “habit of associative reading” (59); “of looking for intertextual relationships and quotable material” (60; with 61–62, 72). Aptly, she stresses the praxis of “compilatio, the rearrangement of previous […] materials[;] […] humanistic reading […] resulted in texts replete with […] references to other texts” (62). “Celestina itself gained in authority by entering into a dialogue with this […] tradition. […] humanistic reading provided its practitioners with the added pleasure of identifying Celestina’s intertexts” (72). 180 Gilman expressly refers to “cynical asides” (Art 172); likewise Severin (“un aparte cínico y violento”, “humor [2001]” 336; “Humour [1979]” 280). Similarly Lida de Malkiel (“comentario cínico”, “Rasgos” 186). Generally, see Finch (passim); Pattison (319–320); Echevarría (xxvi);

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the audience or readership, they tend to be instances of parrhesía—free speech on any topic. By way (if not virtue) of frequent monologs, apartés, soliloquies, the protagonists rationalize their words and deeds.181 The receptive end might entertain them vicariously; perchance also delight therein, as the case may be; and even, or especially, malgré soi. Human culture being indirection constitutively, there seems to have been a love for candid utterances at all times—precisely as an expedient contrast.182 In particular, readers or audiences tend to enjoy the desengaño offered; meaning, the unmasking of a given veneer. At once, they are likely to appreciate the fact that—even while personae are being gulled within the play—they themselves appear to be in on the ‘truth’ (an indirect pleasure).183 This appealing aspect of the asides will not exclude a reception that ‘feels’ appalled; and is consequently driven to moralizing (verbally); or shutting down (aurally).184 The bottom line may well be this: in Celestina, almost nothing seems to be sheathed in silence.185 Perchance, the confession’s theologico-religious role is refunctionalized, here. The observer may enjoy a virtual godlikeness—in terms of insight, overview.186 All is eventually—often immediately—brought into an

|| Illades Aguiar (43–44; 53); and Schalk, with a different accent: “im Beiseitesprechen, einer virtuos geübten Technik, tritt der schneidende Gegensatz hervor, der zwischen dem Handeln und der Moralität besteht[;] im Beiseitesprechen entlarven sich z. B. die Diener und lassen den wahren egoistischen Motiven Spielraum, so daß der Leser eine eigentümliche Oszillation, ein Wechselspiel zwischen Lüge und Wahrheit bemerkt” (ixx). 181 Whether or not these asides had a quasi didactic vector on the play’s productive end is not relevant to their being received as cynical. A moralizing reading is hardly the most likely one. 182 See Blumenberg, rephrasing Simmel’s formula: “Der Mensch ist das indirekte Wesen” (Beschreibung 512); “[den] Menschen – den man, mit etwas paradoxer Kürze, das indirekte Wesen nennen könnte” (Simmel Philosophie des Geldes 265). Accordingly, culture—being manmade—is described as indirection by Blumenberg (cf. Sorge 137–138; Beschreibung 879; with 276; 539; 630). See also subchs. 5.1.1, 5.2.1, and 11.1, herein. 183 In the most cunning cases, they will be ‘deceived by the truth itself’ (cf. Gracián Oráculo 108, §13); else knowingly: “ed io vorrei / che voi fussi ingannate come lei” (Machiavelli M [Bonino] 4, Pro.). See the onset of ch. 7; as well as subchs. 7.2.3 and 13.5, herein. 184 Gilman speaks of “appalled admiration” (“Rebirth” 305). With respect to Machiavelli, see Mansfield (Virtue xv), as cited in 6.6.1.1, herein. Di Camillo observes: “Pero si Menéndez Pelayo nunca sintió la necesidad de justificar la amoralidad de La Celestina, la crítica posterior se ha empeñado en exorcizar el naturalismo y el materialismo chocante de la obra a través de una redentora intención moral del autor” (“libertinaje [1999]” 77; “libertinaje [2001]” 591) 185 Said videtur is decisive, of course. See Snow (“Reading” passim). 186 Relishing its ken of “the inward parts” (to put it with Ps 51:6; KJV). Cf. Ps 139:1–18; spec. v.6: “For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether” (KJV). Celestina thus divinizes herself: “For not only do I see and hear and know you, but with the

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audience’s or reader’s open. This is of import for their corresponding pleasure by proxy, not least as regards shameless free speech. Depending on the content, pervasive parrhesía tends towards cynicism. Not infrequently, it is already received as such; perhaps especially in the picaresque, and affine works.187 Concerning similar (near) contemporary foils, Severin considers Celestina a parody prior to the Quijote; in this case, as caricaturing the courtly lover; or amor cortés, more generally (see “Intro.” 26; 27; 29–30).188 While there surely are such elements or set pieces in the former, it would seem problematic to be classifying the overall play in said terms. The main contraindication will be the work’s serious—moral philosophical or theological—implications, and their (verbal) violation; meaning, its cynicism ultimately. As regards the facture, one happens to be facing a highly heterogeneous text—in several (structural, discursive, semantic, stylistic) respects (see Küpper “Ordnung” 205). Any reckoning with contingency not only undermines generic confines. A corresponding awareness may erode or remove the directives of propriety, as well. With frequency and insistence, Celestina flouts decorum at the level of the plot and protagonists.189 It also defies the aptum more generally; that is, what should or might be stated at all, in a particular environment.190 Combined with a mixture of styles and diction, the text includes explicit contents as would otherwise not be deemed suitable for being integrated into the litterae—physical, performed, verbal vulgarity, especially.191 Pertinently, || eyes of my intellect I penetrate even your inner being” (C [Peden] 30, I). While the formula is clearly Scriptural in this form, the implications will hardly be. 187 Generally, see Menéndez Pelayo’s expedient sýnkrisis (spec. “la crudeza franca y brutal”, Orígenes III. CLVII–CLVIII; here: CLVII; La Celestina 226–227, at 226). Cf. Severin: “Celestina es la obra que abre el camino al género picaresco” (“Intro.” 38). Echevarría states: “In Spanishlanguage literature, its legacy is manifest in Lazarillo de Tormes and the Picaresque novel in general” (xxvi–xxvii). See Bergman (293–296; passim); also Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 16). 188 Cf. Severin: “Tanto Rojas como Cervantes destruyen el mundo de la ficción medieval al demostrar que es imposible vivir como un caballero andante, o como un amante cortesano, en un mundo realista” (“Intro.” 26). “Calisto es un amante cortés paródico” (“Intro.” 26; with 27, 29–30). Such is simply not the whole state of affairs. Withal, it may seem to mitigate the moral (philosophico-theological) import and implications of his remarks. 189 Surely not a courtly setting; also not at the level of the main protagonists, who—de- (or to) spite their nobility—behave in any but a genteel way. 190 See Küpper (“Ordnung” 205). As per Lausberg, a violation of the “aptum” signifies a “shocking of the ethical sense of values”; else “of the social sense of values” (Elemente 153, §464; trans. dsm). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 35; 129n.; 298; 411n.). 191 Such is not unprecedented. Cf. Nietzsche’s assessment: “It seems to me [that] he [sc. Plato] jumbles up all forms of style[;] he has to answer for something similar as the Cynics, who invented the Satura Menippea” (KSA 13. 624–625, 24[1]8; trans. dsm; with “Geburt [KSA 1]” 93).

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Fothergill-Payne gives prominence to “Rojas’ technique in mixing sententiae with the most down-to-earth”—“and often crudely explicit”—“language” (Seneca 140, plus 144; “Séneca” 130; 134). An oratorical tour de force, this drama is highly refined as a whole. Ong sees the “Celestina” as being “[a]mong the most spectacularly rhetorical vernacular works” of the Early Modern Age (247). When immoral matters are referred to— which frequently occurs—their rhetoricization is already guaranteed (so to say). All but inevitably, the respective passages will then be received as cynical. With respect to Celestina, a variety of these statements are here presented in five heuristic groups, chosen for pragmatic purposes. Since it is neither needful nor conducive to discuss each and every such remark, a representative selection must suffice—to which end a provisional classification may prove of use. 6.6.1.1 Pervasive Self-Interest das Tier, […] das von Ehr- oder Geldgeiz oder Liebe angeflammt, alles vermag[.] —Lichtenberg (“Physiognomik” 258)192

Celestina stages a world of sheer egotism. While some more than others, all personae appear to be self-seeking.193 The discursive situation will foster, further || See Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 313; “Welthistorischer Cynismus” 172–173; “Rhet. und Ästhetik” 61); Branham (Unruly passim; spec. 130–131, 251n.); Mayfield (Artful 399). 192 Man is “the animal […] that[—]inflamed by ambition or avarice or love[—]can do everything” (trans. dsm). Come up with gods, say. See spec. ch. 13, herein. 193 The ensuing servant is often considered cynical: “Sempronio ha sido visto como el más superficial, cínico y corrupto de los dos criados” (Severin “Intro.” 41). The use of the resp. term is typically imprecise (as demonstrated by the surrounding adjectives in the cited case). Round refers to “Sempronio’s crudely cynical reprobatio amoris” (42). On said servant’s ‘cynicism’, see Gilman (Art 79; 92–93; 95; 135; 228n.); Bataillon (“la duplicité cynique de Sempronio”, 86; cf. 117, 138, 142, 229, 261, 263); Lida de Malkiel (“su cínica acción”, “técnica” 287); Shipley (“a cynical self-server”, “Authority” 97; “un cínico egoísta”, “Autoridad” 550); Echevarría (xx); Orduna (223); Schalk (xiv); McGrady (“cínica, oportunista y egoísta”, “Gerarda” 237). Bergman takes Pármeno to account as well, although his grasp of the concept is highly problematic: “deep cynicism and world-weariness” (293); “his principles have been displaced by a destructive anti-social cynicism”; “the youths’ mounting cynicism leads them to amoral or immoral behavior” (294); “a young, cynical trickster” (295). “As with Pármeno, Sempronio’s cynicism and world-weariness lead him to violent criminality, while the cumulative lessons of Lazarillo’s adventures lead him into a safer and more survivable state of amoral resignation” (296). The critic’s (partly unfounded) value judgments, (considerable) taxonomic difficulties evince that such must be taken cum grano salis. Menéndez Pelayo points to the play’s pander, “miles gloriosus”: “vive cínicamente con el tráfico vil de sus protegidas. Tal es el rufián

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this state of affairs. For it effectually reduces—ultimately removes—the various limits otherwise in place against a consummate satisfaction of human amor sui. The overall vector is ‘plus ultra’.194 Apart from death itself, all boundaries set to human striving—to conatus, curiositas—appear to be cleared away.195 The noetic and factual intrusion of utter contingency into a rather inelastic construct causes disintegration and confusion; while simultaneously liberating latent— previously confined—energies.196 Having pretended to a comprehensive systematics of the universe, the Scholastic order is irremediably fragmented; partly even ground down to sheer irrelevance. Struggling, achieving, failing, striving more, human beings work for themselves—in the here, now, and this world; not for a beyond. One of the present text’s most incisive remarks appears to have a parallel in a notoriously cynical treatise, written some 13 years later. Part of the ensuing passage’s ‘appalling appeal’ will be in its issuing a broad statement.197 Claiming axiomatic status, it is not one protagonist’s view of another, nor aimed at a particular persona, but at any recipient.198 Celestina asserts: Cada rico tiene una dozena de hijos y nietos que no rezan otra oración, no otra petición, sino rogar a Dios que le saque de [en] medio dellos; no veen la hora que tener a él so la tierra y lo suyo entre sus manos y darle a poca costa su morada para siempre. (C [Severin] 156, IV; the cited “[en]” being thus in the source)199

|| Centurio, llamado así por ser […] rufián de cien mujeres” (Orígenes III. L; La Celestina 76). Actually, the latter was his “abuelo”, hence the name but handed down (C [Severin] 316, XVIII); an added pun on his spectacular uselessness. Cf. Rodríguez Puértolas (95). In heuristic regards, the concept of ‘cynicism’ implied by Menéndez Pelayo’s use tends to be pertinent (e.g. Orígenes III. L; LV; LVI; XCVI; CXXXIV; CLVII; CXCV; CCXL; La Celestina 76; 83; 85; 139; 193; 226). 194 Cf. Blumenberg (Legitimität 272); Green (Western Trad. III. 3–4, 3n.; 7; with 27–52 passim, spec. 27–28); Gumbrecht (272). For further references, see subchs. 4.4, 9.1–2, and 11.1.2, herein. 195 The ‘non plus ultra’ (see Job 38:11) is turned into a downright pervasive, expedient strategy by omitting the negative prefix to said formula. See Blumenberg (Lebenszeit 153–154). 196 Cf. Küpper (Discursive 11–12, 12n.; 121–122; “Ordnung” 206; spec. “Kontingenzbewußtsein” qua “Ermöglichungsstruktur”, 205). 197 Generally, see Mansfield: “What we find appealing […] is bound to what we find appalling” (Virtue xv). With respect to cynicism, cf. Mayfield (Artful 98n.; 109; 121; 292). 198 That this passage was perceived as spec. questionable from the angle of Early Modern moral philosophy may be inferred from the fact that—after a typical adduction of “auctoritates” (generally: Fothergill-Payne et al. xvii)—Celestina’s comentarista concludes his resp. gloss thus: “Y por esto pudo dezir nuestro author estas palabras que los hijos de los ricos dessean ver muertos a sus padres” (C Comentada 201, 86r, IV.27). Acceptable, quia dictum prius. 199 Contrasting with a plural number (“una dozena de”), a reductive exclusivity is stressed (“no […] otra”, “no otra […], sino”)—invoking God solely for one’s self-interest. The second

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Every rich man has a dozen children and grandchildren who have but one prayer, one plea to direct to God: that he be taken from them. They long for the hour when they will have him in the earth, and everything his in their hands, the moment they have laid him in his eternal home—at the least possible expense. (C [Peden] 63, IV)

The inclusiveness of that initial “Cada” implies a general rule, applicable to all. Contrasting with the large number of relatives, the repeated mention of their monofocality (“no […] otra”, iterated) adds emphasis. Both devices conduce to a lessening of complexity. Cynical statements tend to be encountered in reductive contexts: as to content, but also formally—usually via variants of detractio (such as brevitas, ellipsis).200 They highlight one specific aspect of a phenomenon— typically not the most palatable one. Then ensues the remark’s climax, reaccentuated by virtue of the rhetorical technique of totalizing. The hope as such is already reasonably inhumane— specifically in relation to one’s own (grand)father. The fact that this ungodly plea is directed to the Deity adds insult to (verbal) injury. In general, the nómos adjudicating such would probably be an equivalent of the Scriptural commandment to be ‘honoring one’s parents’ (Ex 20:12, Dt 5:16). In most moralities, the prevalent assumptions are likely to show a tendency in this direction—at least officially.201 As to Celestina’s dictum (herself no stranger to avaritia), the baseness of the motive behind that unethical wish or desire will put the last nail in the coffin: greed, familiar ‘root of all evil’ (as per 1Tim 6:10). This content-related aspect is underscored syntactically by a focus on finality at the end (“siempre”). Besides, the concept of burial is iterated with slight variation, as well as figuratively (“so la tierra”, “su morada para siempre”).202 Not only adding to the || sentence is structured as a chiasmus in the Spanish; qua parallelism in the English. For the basic drift: “Deseaba y aun rogaba a Dios que cada día matase el suyo”—since the pícaro gets to eat at the “mortuorios” (Lazarillo 53). His is an immediate, natural need; not spec. greed. In general: “the obsessive hunger of the pícaro is largely absent here” (Round 50). Cf. SánchezAlbornoz’ memorable line: “Some day the history of hunger in Spain should be written” (93). 200 See Mayfield (Artful 15–16; 32n.; spec. 34–35, 34n.–35n., 55; 91–92; 117; 121–122; 129; 151; 195; 205n.–206n.; 243–244; 263; 274; 287; 298; 341; 348; 365n.; 402; 413); as to cynicism and reduction (Artful 11; spec. 39–40, 39n.–40n.; 47, 47n.; 51n.; especially 91–92, 92n.; 110n.; 114n.; 121; 131; 136n.; 145n.; 215; 237; 250; 274n.; spec. 283, 283n.–284n.; 289; 302n.–303n.; 310–311; 314; 316; 318; 369; 384–385, 385n.; 390n.; 399n.; 402; 405; 409; 412–413; 417; 436–437; 440). 201 Also with respect to this: “Diliges […] proximum tuum sicut teipsum” (Lk 10:27; Vulgate; see Lev 19:18, “amicum”; cf. Mk 12:30–31, Mt 22:37–39). “Love your neighbor as yourself” (NIV). 202 Apart from a loss of hold on the relatives, whom the deceased to-be ‘has’ (“tiene”, C [Severin] 156, IV), the verb ‘tener’ implies possession withal: here even of death—thereby reaccentuating the absurd relentlessness of greed, once again.

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overall effect of elaborate callousness, the zeugmatic application of “tener” to different phrases insidiously implicates any reader or auditor as—quasi automatically—supplies it in his mind, when grasping the passage.203 Noeticolinguistically, the recipient is made Celestina’s ‘accomplice’.204 In the brief space of two sentences and a highly refined environment, one encounters a most immoral claim—as measured by the official standards of the time; perhaps also as per the normal assumptions of many human communities. Its tendency seems to align with one of those—paradigmatically cynical—‘regole generali’ veining Machiavelli’s notorious treatise. In the interest of maintaining power, a (prudent) prince is to asten[ersi] da la roba de’ sua cittadini e de’ sua sudditi e da le donne loro. […] Ma soprattutto astenersi da la roba di altri, perché li uomini sdimenticano piú presto la morte del padre che la perdita del patrimonio[.] (Principe 111–112, XVII.13–14) abstain[…] from the property of his citizens and his subjects, and from their women […]. But above all, he must abstain from the property of others, because men forget the death of a father more quickly than the loss of a patrimony. (Prince [Mansfield] 67, XVII)205

It would not be surprising had Machiavelli actually refunctionalized Celestina’s universal dictum about human greed into one plainly applicable to the political sphere—qua involved with what pertains to the common interaction of men.206 As concerns self-interest—and the critical frequency of calling him a cynic— Sempronio is a first, obvious choice.207 Among other things, he cares to declare:

|| 203 With general pertinence, Gilman observes: “through the mind of Celestina, he [sc. ‘Rojas’] seems to be […] invent[ing] arguments in terms of the listener and the situation” (Art 41). 204 Cf. Shipley: “los lectores participan en el juego […] se sientan cómplices” (“Autoridad” 550; his context concerns Sempronio and Calisto; with “Authority” 96). See Fothergill-Payne: “By misquoting, twisting words or giving only half a sententia, both authors [sc. the anonymus and Rojas] leave it to their readers to fill in the gaps” (Seneca 140; with “Séneca” 130). Gilman mentions a vicariously “relived viciousness and sheer degradation” (“Rebirth” 305). With respect to Fontane in the above sense, see Küpper (“Fiacre” 261); cited in subch. 11.3.4, herein. 205 It is a sort of ‘Decalog’ (entries 9, 10); but sans moral theological, much less metaphysical reasons therefor: (an im)pure pragmatism. Generally, cf. Mayfield (Artful 13; 175, 175n.). 206 As Di Camillo logs, “ciertas afinidades entre la Mandragola de Maquiavelo y La Celestina” (“Consideraciones” 73; cf. 69, 72) tend to be admitted; and stand to reason. See subch. 7.2.3. 207 Yet such an ascription tends to have a ‘diffuse’ construal of cynicism in the background— typically informed by Sloterdijk’s vector (cf. 33–34; 41; 180; 225; 369). Contrast Mayfield (Artful 5–6; 8n.; 10; 38n.; 91n.; 300n.; 326n.; 333n.). The former will be Echevarría’s case: “Sempronio […] is also a cynic, an Iago type, full of class resentments against his master” (xx).

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Procuremos provecho mientra pendiere la contienda; […] más vale que pene el amo que no que peligre el moço. (C [Severin] 141, III)208 Desseo provecho; querría que este negocio oviesse buen fin, no por que saliesse mi amo de pena, mas por salir yo de lazería. (C [Severin] 146, III)209 Let us take our gain while the battle is being waged. […] it is better that the master suffer than the servant run a risk. (C [Peden] 49, III)210 True, I want profit from this, and I would like for this business to come to a good end—not in order that my master be relieved of his pain, but for me to make my way out of penury. (C [Peden] 53, III)

One might call such pragmatism or prudence. What this worldly attitude comes down to is a rather ruthless unscrupulousness. The decisive factor will be the outspoken articulation of an opportunistic motivation. By contrast, Pármeno is initially trying to be a loyal servant. Ultimately, Celestina manages to maneuver him over to her side. Before this occurs, the ensuing exchange takes place: PÁRMENO. […] No querría bienes mal ganados. CELESTINA. Yo sí. A tuerto o a derecho, nuestra casa hasta el techo. (C [Severin] 123, I)211 PÁRMENO.

[…] I would not want wealth gained through deceit. I would. By foul means or fair, we take our share! (C [Peden] 34, I)212

CELESTINA.

In conversation with Sempronio, the bawd had specified just what she means:

|| 208 Gilman speaks of “cynicism” in that respect; the context is problematic (Art 135). Round stresses: “The servants, employed to further Calisto’s true desires, cynically and for gain pursue his harm, by favouring his desires” (51); the milieu is highly problematic. 209 The latter foreshadows the Lazarillo; and picaresque texts more generally. Cf. the above n. 210 The ‘better you than I’ being express, this also falls into the third category (6.6.1.3, herein). 211 As to Celestina’s initial, idiomatic expression, see the DRAE’s paraphrase (s.v. “tuerto”): “sin consideración ni reflexión”; its first part qua “contra razón”, “injustamente”. Cf. Severin (“Humour [1979]” 278; “humor [2001]” 333); Bataillon (101). For Ancient intertexts, see e.g. “et vivere rapto” (Virgil “Aeneid VII–XII.” 156, IX.613); “vivitur ex rapto: non hospes ab hospite tutus” (Ovid Metamorph. I–VIII. 12, I.144; plus C Comentada 97, 47r, I.160). With Seneca’s refunctionalization: “Iniuriosum est rapto vivere, at contra pulcherrimum mori rapto” (Ep. 66– 92. 72, LXX.28; 72n.). Concerning the latter, see also subch. 10.2.4, herein. 212 As contrasted with the source, Peden’s trans. is almost anodyne (as are many others). Among the more plausible ones, see Mabbe: “right, or wrong, so as my house be raised high enough, I care not” (119, I.1153–1154). This version is rather free: “I’ll take anything I can get, by fair means or foul” (C [Singleton] 46, I). Heugas’ seems most literal: “Moi si, à tort ou à raison, et jusqu’au toit de ma maison” (C [Heugas] 171, I). He glosses that the proverb exists in French, as well: “Soit à tort, soit à droit, ma maison pleine jusqu’au toit” (C [Heugas] 531n.).

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Digo que me alegro destas nuevas, como los cirurjanos de los descalabrados; y como aquéllos dañan en los principios las llagas, y encarescen el prometimiento de la salud, ansí entiendo yo hazer a Calisto. (C [Severin] 107, I)213 I am most happy with this news, as much as a surgeon [who is] brought a patient with a cracked head. And as they first dabble around in the wound, and with the promise of health make the treatment more dear, so I will do with Calisto. (C [Peden] 22, I)

Celestina not only wishes to prey on, fleece, and gut him. She also says that she does—and in a virtuoso manner. The well-being of this ‘patient’ is consciously tampered with; his pain prolonged on purpose; his life ultimately put at risk. Since Calisto will actually die by dashing his brains out, the above also amounts to a narrative foreshadowing—implicating the knowing recipients.214 By using a most vivid (indeed incisive) medical metaphor, the procuress artfully renders the unethical act envisioned; here via parallelism, simile, plus a reference to the phýsis. The other’s health is put second to her self-interest and profit. With plain relish, she greedily rejoices (“alegro”) in the lover’s faible— that excessive craving overpowering him; and even aims at exacerbating his luxuriating condition, so as to exploit it the more and better.215 Figurative references to bodily matters provide a transition to the second class of cynical remarks provisionally suggested herein. 6.6.1.2 The Recourse to ‘Nature’ All along La Celestina’s continuing argument, precedents are chosen not just from antiquity but also from the world of animals. —Gilman (Art 135; italics added)

Recourses to nature are rhetorical in nature. Not infrequently, they amount to rationalized irrationalities.216 At times, said strategy is applied in such a way

|| 213 Cf. Shakespeare: “You rub the sore / When you should bring the plaster” (Tem 193, II.i.139–140). The cynically inclined might say: at least that way one knows it (or one) is there. 214 It may—but need not necessarily—be coincidental that “descalabrados” (C [Severin] 107, I) contains an ‘(e)scala’ (see C [Severin] 284, 287, XIV; 326, XIX; 334, XX) visuo-paronomastically. Generally, cf. Lida de Malkiel: “En la última noche, el texto acumula ironías que obran como premoniciones del desastre inminente” (“técnica” 287). 215 “Sie kennt die menschlichen Nöte und Triebe und bezieht daraus ihre Macht über die anderen” (Kohut 76). Nor her alone. 216 The repetitive formulation—and its quasi-tautological impression—has a semanticoperformative value, here. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 27n.; 36n.; 49; 90n.; 91–92; 113; 134–135; 140; 155; 187; 194; 269n.; 290; 309–316; 325; 383–402; 439).

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that something blatantly unethical (vulgar, crude, explicit, louche) is declared ‘natural’—implying needful, inevitable. Rendering assorted forms of immorality seemingly reasonable is typically received as cynical.217 A quip on Calisto’s part marks a first case in the present class. Not seldom, it is taken to be humorous—ludicrous even. This is the garden scene. Apparently, the lovers are engaging in sundry sorts of foreplay. Melibea protests: ¿Qué provecho te trae dañar mis vestiduras? CALISTO. Señora, el que quiere comer el ave, quita primero las plumas. (C [Severin] 324, XIX)218 CALISTO.

What benefit is it to you to damage my clothing? Mistress mine, he who wishes to eat the bird must first pluck off the feathers. (C [Peden] 230, XIX)

While certain scholars point up the play’s parodic dimension regarding courtly love—and the male part especially—there are (at least) four interrelated reasons for advancing the possibility of reading the above as cynical.219 First of all, this is the nineteenth act—by which time it is abundantly clear that one cannot be dealing with a comedy, parody, or farce.220 Secondly, the imagery and language may well be implying invasive activities pertaining to a bird of prey—especially, since this nobleman is associated with his falcon from the outset; not to mention its (potential) ‘entering’ into Melibea’s garden.221 In

|| 217 One spec. frequent form of a recourse to nature is the appeal to ‘necessity’. The pervasive medical discourse (at the level of the signifiers, at least) will also be decisive. Generally, see Shipley (“Sickness Images” passim). The figurative use of ‘remedy’ and derivatives—e.g. via polyptota, figurae etymologicae—is virtually all-embracing, signaling the phýsis sensu lato. 218 Cf. Lacarra Lanz (“dichos lascivos” 376); and spec. Martínez Torrejón: “Tras el asalto a la casa, el de las ropas” (181). 219 Severin glosses: “La utilización de este dicho popular de carácter humorístico presenta cierta incongruencia con el resto de la escena” (C [Severin] 324n.; with “Humour [1979]” 279; 290; “humor [2001]” 336; 352). 220 Spec. considering the events of act XII. It is manifest here that this is ‘a comedy gone bad’ (see Küpper “Ordnung” 204; trans. dsm). 221 (See C [Severin] 85, “Argumento del primer auto”; 134, II). The bird of prey’s vectorially invasive rapacity penetrates a spatially stationary, (quasi) irenic garden. Calisto ultimately leaves the latter as his winged vicarius had entered (while not sharing its airworthiness). Cf. McGrady (“Calisto’s Lost Falcon” 95; 98; passim); Martínez Torrejón: “La inicial penetración de Calisto en el jardín […] es ya un modo de asalto. […] Calisto viola este hortus conclusus […] por medio de un halcón que se introduce en él, abriéndole camino a su dueño […]. A la identificación de Calisto con su ave de presa seguirá la análoga con su alcahueta, por medio de la cual proseguirá la caza de forma vicaria. […] [con] veneno retórico […] Celestina penetra los

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words less minced: that ostensible ‘love scene’ does sport undercurrents, or overtones, of (en)force(ment)—even while the lady is evidently not unwilling.222 Thirdly, there is the vivid matter of that—virtually inevitable, downright stark— obscenity in Calisto’s remark.223 Finally, said utterance occurs just before the latter’s fateful fall and—strikingly graphic—death.224

|| oídos de Melibea” (177; see Añón 233; 237; 253). Martínez Torrejón further insinuates Melibea’s complicity by referring to what she could conceivably have done, but does not do (with abysmal implications): “En la noche definitiva, […] la penetración de Calisto en la casa de Pleberio es marcadamente transgresora; claro que Melibea le ha invitado, pero en lugar de procurar una llave con que abrirle una puerta del jardín, le da a su ‘saltaparedes’ la idea de escalar las tapias, con toda la carga simbólica que tal acto tiene” (180). One might log the scholar’s significative choice of words: “procurar”; “llave”, visually reminiscent of Calisto’s initial ‘ave’; perchance even a paronomasía of “tal acto” with ‘tacto’ (on the latter, see 183). As to “[t]he erotic symbolism of the hawk”, see McGrady (“Calisto’s Lost Falcon” passim; here 93); he stresses: “the hawk had served as a symbol of aggressive male sexuality long before the Middle Ages” (“Calisto’s Lost Falcon” 94). 222 This qualification is decisive. Martínez Torrejón stresses: “la piedra de toque legal siempre ha sido la voluntad de la mujer en el momento del factum” (184). Yet the scholar also observes: “La sombra del violador Tarquino, evocada por el nombre de la criada, no deja de contribuir a la tremenda ambigüedad de la escena” (167; see 168, 167n.–168n., 176, 181, 183; plus: “Apártate allá, Lucrecia”, C [Severin] 285, XIV). Cf. ch. 7. Küpper logs the play’s “auch noch aus moderner Sicht schockierend krasse Sensualität der Liebeshandlung” (“Ordnung” 203n.). Kohut’s seeing a “ideale, etwas blasse Liebe Calistos zu Melibea” (76) is textually unwarranted. 223 It cannot be excluded that the lover’s (or Rojas’) imagery is simultaneously an altogether non-figurative reference to haptico-lingual performances. Küpper comments: “the metaphor of hunting [and] consumption is customary during the epoch, when it comes to sexuality; it is probably grounded in the wordplay ‘consummare’ / ‘consumere’. The comparison with the fowl is also standardized ([…] presumably because, by contrast to other game, one may eat birds ‘completely’ […][)]. Calisto’s utilization is […] remarkably crude, crass” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; May 17, 2020; trans. dsm). Cf. the scholar’s indications in another context (Discursive 30n.; 38; 50; 70; 76). With respect to contemporaneous recipients, the fact that one is facing an Early Modern text makes a significant difference in such matters—considering the absence of effective forms of birth control, hence the probable privileging of non-reproductive body parts, auxiliary techniques. This would concern the audience, readership; and quite apart from the issue whether or not Calisto is intradramatically capable of restraining himself. Generally, see Blumenberg, stressing “die einzige wirklich bedeutende Veränderung des menschlichen Verhaltens in unserem [sc. the twentieth] Jahrhundert durch die Kontrazeptiva” (Beschreibung 478). Cf. Küpper (“Performanz” 13n.). 224 Joining the linguistic factor—the signifieds evoked by that remark—with the second and third aspect renders problematic the “certain incongruence” Severin wishes to see between “this popular dictum of a humoristic nature” and “the rest of the scene” (C [Severin] 324; trans. dsm). Any statement—and be it a proverb lifted from the cultural networks of popular lore— must be studied in its spec. application. An analysis relative to the resp. context is needful:

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The play features several seduction scenes. These tend to include rhetorical recourses to nature. Just as she is ultimately involved in everything (even post mortem), the bawd also has her hands in these. From the first act, Celestina works at priming Pármeno’s luxuria, thereby to bring him over to her side. The servant’s awakened lust amounts to the chink in his armor, in her view—which is to the point: CELESTINA. […] el amor impervio todas las cosas vence. Y sabe, si no sabes, que dos conclusiones son verdaderas. La primera, que es forçoso el hombre amar a la mujer y la mujer al hombre. La segunda, que el que verdaderamente ama es necessario que se turbe con la dulçura del soberano deleyte, que por el hazedor de las cosas fue puesto, porque el linaje de los hombres se perpetuasse sin lo qual perescería. Y no sólo en la humana especie, mas en los pesces, en las bestias, en las aves, en las reptilias y en lo vegetativo […]. ¿Qué dirás a esto, Pármeno? […] Llégate acá, putico, que no sabes nada del mundo ni de sus deleytes. […] mal sosegadilla deves tener la punta de la barriga. PÁRMENO. ¡Cómo cola de alacrán! (C [Severin] 117–118, I)225 CELESTINA. […] invincible [sic; impervious] love conquers all. And he knows, if you do not, that two conclusions may be drawn: the first, that it is inevitable that man will love woman, and woman, man. Second, that he who truly loves will necessarily be perturbed by the sweet taste of sovereign delight, which was put there by our Maker so that mankind be perpetuated, and without which it would vanish from the earth. And this is true not only in the human species but also in fish, beasts, birds, […] reptiles[,] and in the green kingdom […]. What do you say to that, Pármeno? […] Come here to me, little whoreson, for you know nothing of the world and its pleasures. […] and what you have at the tip of your belly must sting! PÁRMENO. Like a scorpion’s tail! (C [Peden] 29–30, I)226

Besides a hackneyed, but ever effective set piece—simply declaring something ‘needful’ (“es forçoso”, “es necessario”)—Celestina employs a variant of Virgil’s celebrated dictum qua authority.227 The refunctionalization of the latter might

|| “Funktionale Interpretation verlangt […] die Zuordnung der uns vorliegenden Aussagen zu den je akuten Problemen und zwar inhaltlich und formal” (Blumenberg “Epochenschwelle” 102). 225 Cf. Severin (“Humour [1979]” 279; “humor [2001]” 335); Lacarra Lanz (Cómo leer 46; “dichos lascivos” 369–370); Di Camillo (“libertinaje [1999]” 82; “libertinaje [2001]” 597–598). 226 As to the arch-familiar supposition that everything would die out, unless luxuria prevails in the given instance, see the notorious case of Lot’s daughters (Gen 19:30–36). It is often cited under ‘such’ circumstances (see Machiavelli M [Bonino] 45, III.xi). The English trans. reads “sabe” as referring to “amor”. It might as well be an imperative: ‘And know (therefore)—if you do not know (already)—that two conclusions’, etc. Cf. Mabbe’s pertinent rendering (C [Mabbe] 63, I). In the above, the phonetic paronomasía is also noteworthy. For it varies the segment of the chiasmus almost imperceptibly (“el […] la […] la […] al”). 227 In discursive terms, this redescription is decisive: “Die luxuria ist gemein-christlich das

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have abysmal implications, should the otherwise unexpected “impervio” be a calque of ‘ímprobo’ and ‘soberbio’ (especially since “soberano” follows).228 Be that as it may. With a view to further legitimization, said ruse is then underscored by a comparably rhetorical reference to the Creator (“el hazedor de las cosas”). In so saying, her calculated oratory attempts to rationalize luxuria qua amor, precisely via an ostensive recourse to nature (that familiar line: ‘but animals do it’).229 “¿Qué es razón, loco?” (C [Severin] 126, I)—indeed.230 Regarding inventio, it may well be Celestina’s habitual reckoning with contingency that facilitates this process of eloquent inversion (from morality’s standpoint). Oratorically, every argument may also be seen—hence rendered persuasive—on the respectively other side(s).231

|| deutlichste Indiz des Verfallenseins des Menschen an die Erbsünde, d. h. der Schwächung des imperium der ratio über die niederen partes der Seele (pars vegetativa und sensitiva). Insofern sind die Regungen der luxuria Einfallstor aller anderen Sünden” (Küpper “Ordnung” 185n.; see 186n.). On declarations of ‘necessity’ in Machiavelli’s Principe, cf. Mayfield (Artful 89–91; 124). 228 One seems to be facing a mélange of several Virgilian sententiae (see spec. C Comentada 79, 41r, I.135). Cf. “omnia vincit Amor: et nos cedamus Amori” (“Eclogae” 94, X.69); with an assonating variant: “labor omnia vicit / improbus” (“Georgica” 108, I.145–146; see “mucho puede el continuo trabajo”, C [Severin] 216, VIII; 216n.; with C Comentada 313–314, 133r, VIII.10); “improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis” (“Aeneid I–VI.” 450, IV.412). Cf. Ovid: “quid non amor improbus audet” (Fasti 80, II.331). Generally, see Gracián: “la diligencia allana la imposibilidad” (Oráculo 213, §204; “Es proverbio latino: ‘Industriae nil impossibile’”, 213n.). Cf. Kablitz (“Augustinismus” 45, spec. 45n.); Saguar García (69). The adjective added or altered above seems to signal Latin “impervius” (C [Severin] 118n.; plus 117n.). The latter might be glossed as “‘impenetrabilis’, ‘inaccessibilis’ (‘lack of way’) […] [‘]lo sin camino’” (GarciGómez 3; with Cejador y Frauca’s gloss at C [Cejador] I 94n.). Samonà stresses: “impervio, ricercatissimo latinismo, significa sin camino, e può essere indistintamente attribuito diretto di ‘amor’, o avverbio (descaminadamente) come suggerisce Menéndez Pidal” (26). Contextually insinuated, ‘improbum’ and ‘superbia’ would seem to be semantico-discursively conceivable possibilities; spec. since Celestina means luxuria when saying “amor” (C [Severin] 117, with 118, I). The ‘love’ she insinuates is surely conceited; not to mention the falls as follow. 229 By and large, “[s]exual desire […] is the primary, universal ‘marker’ of man’s nature after the Fall” (Küpper “Uti and frui” S131n.; cf. “Medical” 121; Kablitz “Senses” 211–212; 219–228). 230 Thereto, see also Sánchez-Albornoz (32; 264). With general pertinence, Kablitz refers to a “Vergewaltigung der Vernunft für einen recht durchsichtigen, mit ihr kaum zu vereinenden Zweck” (“Nachahmung” 125; infinitized; cf. “the use of reason” is “contingent”: “Senses” 223). 231 Generally, see Aristotle: “the orator should be able to prove opposites” (Rhet. 11, 1355a, I.i.12). “Rhetoric and Dialectic alone of all the arts prove opposites” (Rhet. 13, 1355a, I.i.12); the “probable is that which generally happens”, while being “concerned with things that may be other than they are” (Rhet. 27, 1357a, I.ii.15). On the nexus of contingency and argument ‘in utramque partem vel in plures’, see ch. 8—spec. its onset, as well as 8.4—herein.

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The procuress proceeds deductively: from a universal view of phýsis to Pármeno’s more particular one. The latter raises that vulgar chiste. Besides, the segment begins and ends by suggesting knowledge; or rather, experience—and its absence. At once, the one (patently) lacking it is included by pointing to that which will be immediately palpable to him (near his waist).232 On the whole, this passage is veined with patterns and stylistic devices: polyptoton (“sabe […] sabes”); chiasmus (“el hombre amar a la mujer y la mujer al hombre”); alliteration with consonance and overall paronomasia (“la dulçura del soberano deleyte”); an all but hypnotically enumerative parallelism (“en”, iterated sixfold); a rhetorical question (“¿Qué dirás a esto[?]”). In said manner, this highly elaborate segment counsels the natural and uninhibited indulgence of a bodily function that (official Occidental) morality has ever considered problematic. For its unbridled force tends to threaten the social fabric.233 Thence this specific speech act on Celestina’s part may well be received as cynical—on account of its parrhesía, not least.234 Corresponding to the above thrust, the procuress later primes Areúsa for Pármeno (in the seventh auto).235 During this seduction by proxy, she offers a

|| 232 Rhetoric is most effectual whenever able to (tacitly) refer to what seems momentaneously evident to the other (a quasi ‘inartificial’ proof). Here, Pármeno neither would nor could argue against his loins (not only considering his youth). On ‘átechnes písteis’, see Aristotle (Rhet. 14– 15, 1355b, I.ii.2; 150–167, 1375a–1377b, I.xv.1–33; also Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 324–325, 5.1.1– 5.7.37; with Freese “Glossary” 472); and spec. Eden (Fiction 11–24; 87n.; 91–92; passim). 233 Küpper accentuates “die schwerlich zu eskamotierenden sozialen Begleiterscheinungen einer Weltsicht im Zeichen von Kontingenz” (“Ordnung” 207n.). 234 Misguided by ideological presuppositions, Maestro declares that Celestina speaks “con franqueza casi absoluta” only once (“Es el único momento”) in the play (personaje 88; referring to Rojas C [Severin] 273, XII). Apart from not being supported by the text itself, such and similar reductivism (“Todo”, “completamente”, Maestro personaje 85) fails to account for Celestina’s ‘lying with the truth’—not least. As to the latter, see subch. 6.6.2, herein. 235 Shortly after this exchange, he comes upstairs. Celestina wishes to enjoy their lovemaking vicariously. Kilian notes the “voyeurism” (25; with 24). It implicates the recipients. Cf. Round: “Love […] belongs in some part to eavesdroppers […][,] to voyeuristic onlookers”; “Celestina […] is in a position to buy and sell love, or to mortgage it through her intrigues to time, chance and malice” (44; with 52). See Pattison (321); Di Camillo: “el verdadero ‘deleyte’ […] reside […] en la capacidad exclusiva del hombre de narrar a sus amigos cada detalle de lo que ha ocurrido” (“libertinaje [1999]” 80; with 80n.; “libertinaje [2001]” 595; 595n.). The rhetorical concept and praxis of evidentia (enárgeia) could decisively stead Pattison’s view of “the work as effectively ‘theatre of the mind’” (323; cf. 321, 324). See Stern on the intradramatic practice of “paint[ing] verbal portraits” (193). Pertinently, she stresses the ventriloquism involved in acts of recitation: the “reader who portrayed […] the characters […] exploit[ed] the full potential of the human voice […]. He became their voices; they spoke through him. […] The text was auditory; the

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chiasmus structurally equivalent to the above (inter alia). The latter features an additional parallelism (“nasce […] nasce”); then an all but total ellipsis (“él, ella”); thereby bringing the two terms—hence the signifieds (with a view to the actual referents)—as close together as (syntactically) possible: “Que quando nasce ella nasce él, y quando él, ella” (C [Severin] 203, VII).236 Adding the finishing touches to Areúsa’s seduction, Celestina’s ensuing speech features an (implicit) strike at ontology, as well as moral theology (thereby transitioning to the next heuristic category): ¿De una sola gotera te mantienes? […] Nunca uno me agradó; nunca en uno puse toda mi affición. Más pueden dos, y más quatro, y más dan y más tienen, y más ay en qué escoger. No ay cosa más perdida, hija, que el mur que no sabe sino un horado. Si aquél le tapan no avrá donde se esconda del gato. […] ¿Qué quieres, hija, deste número uno? […] Ten siquiera dos, que es compañía loable […], como tienes dos orejas, dos pies y dos manos, dos sávanas en la cama, como dos camisas para remudar. […] honrra sin provecho no es sino como anillo en el dedo. Y pues entramos no caben en un saco, acoge la ganancia. (C [Severin] 205–206, VII)237

|| audience heard […][;] from that hearing it could picture the visual dimension of the world of the Tragicomedia. […] we cannot […] discount the Tragicomedia as drama” (199). Cf. Illades Aguiar (“bring to life thirteen characters”, 41; “virtual space”, 47, 48); and Castilla’s phrases: “visualidad y […] teatralidad”; “evocar tiempo y espacio en la imaginación del oyente”; “la dimensión visual, [e]l mundo virtual de La Celestina” (521); “la virtualidad teatral” (523). 236 “él” is quasi ‘contained’ in “ella”; “when a she is born a he is born, and when a he, a she” (C [Peden] 107, VII). As Menéndez Pelayo aptly logs, the overall segment involves “cínicas palabras” (Orígenes III. XCVI, and n.; La Celestina 139, 139n.). Cf. spec. “Por Dios, pecado ganas en no dar parte destas gracias a todos los que bien te quieren. […] Cata que no seas avarienta de lo que poco te costó; no atesores tu gentileza, pues es de su natura tan comunicable como el dinero. […] pues tú no puedes de ti propia gozar, goze quien puede, que no creas que en balde fuiste criada. Que quando nasce ella nasce él, y quando él, ella. Ninguna cosa ay criada al mundo superflua ni que con acordada razón no proveyesse della natura. Mira que es pecado fatigar y dar pena a los hombres podiéndolos remediar” (C [Severin] 202–203, VII; with C [Peden] 106–107, VII). On the Christian and Aristotelianizing mélange of refunctionalized presuppositions involved, see subch. 3.2, herein. Abysmally, Mt 6:19–21 will also be implied. 237 Cf. Ecc 4:12 (here perverted). ‘In the margin or between the lines’ (generally, see Fothergill-Payne et al. xxi), an Early Modern commentator adds: “Pero esto se a de entender para servir a Dios y no para su offensa” (C Comentada 294, 126r, VII.43). With respect to the above passage, his reaction is most revealing (C Comentada 293–294, 125v–126r, VII.41–43). Pertinently, Bataillon speaks of ‘cynicism’ in said context: “Par l’inflexion no es sino, Célestine explicite la signification un peu cynique du primer dicton. […] Les premiers mots de la tirade détournaient cyniquement de son usage normal un proverbe (compañ[í]a de dos, hizola Dios), appliqué d’ordinaire au mariage. Quant au dernier proverbe, généralement invoqué pour affirmer qu’on doit préférer l’honneur au profit, la vieille en inverse l’application avec désinvolture. […] un usage cynique des proverbes et maximes” (101).

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Can your needs be fed from a single dribble? […] One man never satisfied me, and I never focused all my affection on one. Two can do more, and even more four, and they give more and have more and offer more to choose from. There is nothing as lost, Daughter, as the mouse that has only one hole; if that one is closed off[,] the mouse will have nowhere to hide from the cat. […] What is it you want, Daughter, from this number one? […] Have at least two, for two is laudable company. The way you have two ears, two feet and two hands, two sheets on your bed, two shifts to change into. […] Honor without benefit is nothing but a ring on your finger. And since both will not fit well in the same sack, seize the profit. (C [Peden] 109–110, VII)

With respect to the concluding exhortation, Gilman observes that it “gives a final touch to the cynical humor of the whole” (Art 41).238 Hardly will it be needful to indicate the copia of sexual innuendos injected into this terse passage. The climax of obscenity should probably be the first line cited (“gotera”); not to mention having more than one “horado”.239 Even so, it is requisite to stress their precise, semantico-purposive function, here. Celestina’s intimations are not gratuitous smut, but tailored to the task of suasion—its submerged, seemingly incidental layers being the most effectual.

|| 238 Küpper comments that—“especially in view of Celestina’s imminent death owing to her greed for ‘profit’”—“the term ‘humor’” may well seem “a considerable blunder”, here. Her “parrhesía […] is grounded in the unabashed praising of promiscuity (considering the official norm of monogamy)[;] in the utter neglect of the ‘higher’ value of honor in favor of naked material interest[s][;] but especially in Celestina’s unscrupulous instrumentalization of the unsuspecting Areúsa for her own material interests—which she [sc. the procuress] ([…] unbeknown to her interlocutor) had even ‘justified’ withal[,] by way of her concluding maxim; should Areúsa later become aware of what Celestina had been doing with her here, she could not even complain; for Celestina had actually told [Areúsa] to her face, which procedural logic her [own] actions follow; this is a pinnacle of shamelessness indeed” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; May 17, 2020; trans. dsm; italics added). 239 In this sexualized context—and provisionally assuming an absence of innocent readers— “gotera” cannot but be taken as a (quasi) metonymic reference to the male member and its fluids (cf. Lacarra Lanz “dichos lascivos” 370). The pun on fellatio to the point of ejaculation would be overly graphic—save that this is an insinuative, hence artful rendition. Generally, cf. “Los chistes picantes en La Celestina son de una naturaleza más sutil, aunque abiertamente sexual” (Severin “humor [2001]” 335; “Humour [1979]” 279). See Lacarra Lanz (Cómo leer; spec. as to the above; “dichos lascivos” 370–371). By contrast, Echevarría calls the overall text “this most explicit of works” (xxi): “Celestina is pitiless in its depiction of human weaknesses, particularly those related to love. It is so explicit in this respect that it sometimes strays into outright obscenity and even pornography” (xiv). The latter is hardly the case. For the present text reckons with, but also depends on, the recipient’s active noetic participation—which is (highly) probable, but not inevitable. An innocent audience or readership would likely miss many (and all of the subtler) allusions. The ‘explicit’ scenes are so (only) to those in the know.

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Exemplary reference to the natural number of bodily extremities is a timeworn tópos—likely on account of its momentaneous evidence to anyone.240 Susceptible of virtually infinite refunctionalizations, its contexts still tend to be moral ones, traditionally.241 The source format probably relevant in this case is usually (while not only) ascribed to Zeno the Stoic. Depending on the recipients, the fact that this commonplace happens to be employed in a willfully unethical setting (and to such ends) may yield a novel, even astonishing effect (stupore).242 The first rhetorical query sports phonetic paronomasía (con-, assonance): ‹so›, ‹go›; ‹te›, ‹te›, ‹tie›. An emphatic repetition of exclusivity follows (“Nunca […] nunca”). It is intensified by a syntactic parallelism with the conceptual function of an insistent gradation: “Más […] y más”. The latter is repeated thrice, then taken up in the next sentence—so providing cohesion. This is mirrored structurally in the ensuing correlations (“dos”, iterated fivefold). In said manner, the text presents a confluence of formal refinement and vulgar content—hence a variant of the cynical statement. The rampant misandry also conduces thereto.243 Metonymically—via reference to a freshening of the bedsheets—men are reduced to serviceable parts in intercourse: mere externals; soiled outfits, replaced by (ever) others (“dos sávanas en la cama”, “dos camisas para remudar”, potentially in infinitum).244 The bottom line: males are to be swapped as often as linen or underwear. The piquancy added: a patently sanitary reason for renewal is expressly aligned with an area of application, where frequent substitutions are hardly hygienic.245

|| 240 This being a quasi ‘nontechnical’ proof, in the Aristotelian sense (see the n. above); although its virtuoso employment will be anything but “artless”; see Fraker (92); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 15n.–16n.); plus the onset of ch. 4; as well as subch. 4.3, herein. 241 Cf. this inimitable paronomasía: “te dio Dios dos oýdos y una lengua sola” (with “oygas”, “Oyrá el diablo”, in the immediate vicinity; C [Severin] 250, XI; 250n.; plus C Comentada 362, 154v, XI.2)—outperforming the Stoic version by far. See Zeno’s dictum: “‘The reason why we have two ears and only one mouth is that we may listen the more and talk the less’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 135, VII.23). See also Gracián (Oráculo 174–175, §134; 181, §146). 242 Concerning a comparable performance in another context, Curtius remarks: “Gracián has outdone a hackneyed topos” (qtd. in: Blumenberg Lesbarkeit 116; trans. dsm; with Curtius 349). 243 Reducing the value of the male alter also pertains to the fourth heuristic category (6.6.1.4). 244 For this implied vector, see the preceding gradation: “Más pueden dos, y más quatro, y más”, etc. (with “Ten siquiera dos”). 245 While (more or less) effective means of protection stem from a ‘Modern’ approach to medicine, awareness as to venereal ailments is nothing new. The nexus between debauchery and certain maladies (the ‘French disease’, say) was always perceived, even if the precise causalities remained unknown; thence might be ascribed to God’s wrath (or the like).

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Considering its discursive ramifications, there will be a still more incisive implication in a passage negating the (value of the) “one”.246 For the ostensive levity of rationalizing poly-amorousness has a grave onto-theological subtext. Recipients are confronted with the staging of an assault on the mono(theós)— precisely by way or virtue of turning the Creation against its (purported) Maker. Assuming (with Gen 6:20) that there are naturally (or usually) ‘two of every kind’, a vector of plurality—an ultimately polytheistic take—is insinuated (this being a decidedly ‘reproductive’ context).247 Moreover, monotheism is here apparently related to male possessiveness— required as a façade, hence maintained; for they need to believe. Right before said segment, Celestina refers to Elicia as a model to be imitated: Y con todos cumple, y a todos muestra buena cara, y todos piensan que son muy queridos. Y cada uno piensa que no ay otro y que él solo es el privado, y él solo es el que le da lo que ha menester. (C [Severin] 205, VII) And she satisfies them all and shows them all a good face, and they all believe they are much loved, and each of them thinks there is no other and that he is her only one, and that only he gives her what she has need of. (C [Peden] 109, VII)

In the view of a body referring to herself as the ‘Celestial’ one (and being so called), monotheism seems to be egotism ‘outsourced’—and then called ‘god’.248 Though this could be taken as a climax of irreverence already, there may be an even higher form of contempt by intertextual implication: “Ten siquiera dos, que es compañía loable” (C [Severin] 206, VII). “Have at least two, for two is laudable company” (C [Peden] 110, VII). As another lover of men puts it: “Ubi enim sunt duo vel tres congregati in nomine meo, ibi sum in medio eorum” (Mt 18:20; Vulgate).249 Mayhap caritas comes down to (naught but) éros, after all.250

|| 246 This may also transition to the third heuristic category (6.6.1.3, herein). 247 Meaning, where ‘two’ issues into at least three (or more). 248 With Cherchi, Martínez Torrejón discerns “una inversión del sentido en casi todos los nombres de La Celestina” (167n.; see Cherchi 81–87, spec. 81, 84; and passim). 249 “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (KJV). So long as it be not ‘in name only’; or even then—just to spite them. 250 Formulations such as the following will always seem suspicious: “et charitate ardenti desideremus” (Augustine “De lib. arb.” 1270, II.xx.54; King’s seeming need for a counteractive gloss being telltale: “Free Choice” 72n.). Or else, to appropriate Luther’s words in a not inaffine context: “daß die Vernunft mit dem Fleisch gemeinsame Sache machte” (Römerbrief 276, §176, as to 7:18). Then again, this might work both ways: those who ‘congregate’ (solely) ‘in the name of’ (physical) pleasure may well be performing acts of charity or a higher love, sub specie aeternitatis (see Isa 55:8–9; Lk 1:37; Rom 11:33). Generally, cf. Plato (Rep. 6–10. 92–93, 509a, VI;

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6.6.1.3 Reappropriation of Moral Discourses, Concepts, Practices many characters […] treat religion with what can only be described as irreverent cynicism. —Giles (166) Otras cosas he menester más de comer. —Rojas (C [Severin] 173, V)251

Insofar as an overall society is relatively liberal in terms of faith, blasphemy will be less of an issue.252 While perhaps frowned upon, it tends to be classed or tolerated as free speech (soi-disant). The case already differs in cases where the Divine—while not (or no longer) seen or taken in substantialist terms—has been refunctionalized as the (partial) hypostáseis of Justice, Peace, or human Dignity (say). Taking the respective names in vain may not sit well with a receiving audience—feeling communally pressured into appearing, or pretending, to be morally outraged.253 “Nihil sub sole novum” (Ecc 1:10; Vulgate).

|| with Waldenfels 196); Aristotle (Rhet. 112, 1369b, I.x.16); abysmally, Strauss (Natural Right 188); Kablitz (“Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 590–592, spec. 591; 597; “Senses” 223; 228; passim). As to a contextually polyvalent Fontanean passage (“Sie sei nun mal für das schön Menschliche und in der Liebe für das Übermenschliche”, “Mathilde” 352), Mecklenburg observes: “[so] bekommt auch das ‘schön Menschliche’ einen Schlag ins Erotische” (226). See also subchs. 11.3.3, 11.3.4. 251 Uttered by Sempronio, this remark—made in a luxuria-related context—refunctionalizes a Biblical dictum (against the grain). Cf. “Scriptum est: Non in solo pane vivit homo” (Mt 4:4; with Dt 8:3; Vulgate). See Kilian (25–26); Sánchez-Albornoz (93); Saguar García (64; 66), who stresses: “biblical authority succumbs to rhetorical abuse” (66; plus70–72). Cf. Fernández Rivera (“Closet” 11), cum grano salis. Mendoza Negrillo observes: “la cínica inversión de lo religioso […] encontramos en casi todos los personajes de La Celestina” (249). See Rodríguez Puértolas: “Lo cierto es que La Celestina está empedrada de perversas utilizaciones y distorsiones de elementos religiosos” (99). With general pertinence, Di Camillo speaks of “una terminología intencionadamente malentendida” (“libertinaje [1999]” 73; cf. 75; “libertinaje [2001]” 586–587); and of Sempronio’s “deliberado malentendimiento” especially (“libertinaje [1999]” 80; “libertinaje [2001]” 595; referring to C [Severin] 94, I). Generally, see Samonà’s subch. “Forme sacro-profane” (97–110; here: 97). Lacarra Lanz logs: “En Celestina todos los personajes subvierten la autoridad de las sentencias y sus principios, sean cristianos, estoicos o cortesanos” (“pesimismo” 471; referring to Shipley “Autoridad” 572–578; “Authority” 106– 109); “los personajes de Celestina subviertan las sentencias petrarquistas” (Lacarra Lanz “pesimismo” 470; cf. “dichos lascivos” 356); with Deyermond, who stresses: “Celestina […] uses Petrarchan sententiae as weapons” (Sources 117; also “fuentes” 116). 252 Then again: the smaller (hence rather closed) the community, the more suspect will it be. 253 At any rate, Echevarría’s assertion (based on a highly problematic appropriation) seems untenable: “As a result of the social leveling and combination of styles, Celestina is, following Auerbach’s scheme, a profoundly Christian work, exhibiting the anticlericalism rampant in its time” (xxii—xxiii). To confute such simplicities, a modest allusion to Lucian will suffice.

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Legion are the instances where Celestina invokes the Deity while doing decidedly ungodly work.254 In Sempronio’s ensuing comment on the procuress, an otherwise pious praxis appears to be reappropriated for distinctly irreligious (perchance sacrilegious) purposes: Lo que en sus cuentas reza es los virgos que tiene a cargo[.] (C [Severin] 223, IX) When she is telling her beads she is counting the number of maidenheads she is scheduled to repair[.] (C [Peden] 127, IX)255

|| 254 Likewise, Celestina speaks the moral discourse. She uses formulaic set pieces—e.g. “virtue counsels us to suffer temptations and not repay a wrong with another” (C [Peden] 29, I; see C [Severin] 117)—if and where suitable, while costing her naught; or where the gain is more than the expense. The bawd tends to be economical with ethics, employing the latter in the service of immorality—immediately, ultimately. She appeals to areté, or the resp. concepts—to “constancia” (C [Severin] 122, I), say: “Do not live flitting from flower to flower” (C [Peden] 34, I). Blüher stresses: “Celestina hingegen benutzt sie [sc. ‘Argumente’ by ‘Seneca’], aus dem Zusammenhang gerissen, für die unethischen Ziele ihrer egoistischen Machenschaften” (122). See Canet: “la sabiduría que muestran todos los personajes no les sirve más que para pecar” (226). Like the devil, Celestina cites or alludes to the Bible (structurally, see Mt 4:5–6): “As is written of the Pool of Bethesda” (C [Peden] 34, I; C [Severin] 122). See Shakespeare: “But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, / Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: / And thus I clothe my naked villainy / With odd old ends stol’n forth of Holy Writ, / And seem a saint, when most I play the devil” (R3. 169–170, I.iv.334–338). Cf. Melville (Confidence-Man 185, §32). 255 See Costa Fontes (112–113; 121). There may be a sacrilege here, given that the question of maidenheads and virgins had been linked to Almightiness in Medieval speculations. Cf. “De divina omnipotentia in reparatione corruptae et factis infectis reddendis (Patr. Lat. 145, 595– 622)”—as per “dem sich immer mehr in den Vordergrund drängenden theologischen Attribut der Omnipotenz”—“utrum deus possit reparare virginem post ruinam” (Damian, qtd. in: Blumenberg Legitimität 379–380, 380n.). Divine attributes are ascribed to the procuress by others: “désta [sc. Celestina] que, no tiene menor poderío en mi vida [sc. de Calisto] que Dios” (C [Severin] 108, I). She fills in the locus of ‘God’—just like ‘Amor’, in Pleberio’s (and the work’s) peroratio. This might also be implied by the ensuing hyperbole: “Entiendo que passan de cinco mil virgos los que se han hecho y desecho por su autoridad en esta cibdad” (C [Severin] 103, I). The term “autoridad” and the phrase “en esta cibdad” may well have discursive implications. Given the decisively Augustinian (because Nominalist) ground swell of the text at hand, said terminology will insinuate the civitas diaboli (with “esta” as ‘this’ world)—wherein Celestina has a quasi omnipotence, indeed. At any rate, the text omits the other realm: whether due to the fact that nothing can be said of it—the Nominalist ‘nescio’ (cf. Küpper “Ordnung” 176; 176n.; Kilian 23); else that it is not at all; or that its existence is irrelevant to the world modeled by the play. In an affine context, Küpper stresses: “das Jenseits [‘ist’] immer eine virtuelle, aber ideale Welt, die ihren ‘Sinn’ gerade darin findet, daß in ihr dasjenige, was essentiell Merkmal des Diesseits ist, Kontingenz, Chaos, Ungeordnetheit und Ungerechtigkeit, Kompensation erfährt” (entfesselte Signifikanz 48–49). On Celestina’s Augustinian implications, cf. Küpper (“Ordnung” 193n.; 195; 199; 199n.; 203; 208n.; 209; 214–221; 214n.–216n.; 219n.); spec. “[das]

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As terse as shocking (to the devout, or decently inclined): not only is the bawd doing something else than that which would be meet under the circumstances (contingency in application). What she (virtually) performs instead is altogether immoral; and probably not only from the angle of such as maintain religious proclivities.256 Among other things, it also destabilizes the very foundations of a patriarchal society (being the contemporaneous case).257 Another aspect of reappropriation pertains to the manifest ‘sustainability of articulations’, while the established references (may) have perished.258 As this is often the case in Celestina, it will suffice to select three (comparable) instances, where a theological formula is employed to ostensibly ‘enforce’ an unethical fact or feat rhetorically.259 The ensuing are uttered by the procuress: pocas virgines, a Dios gracias, has tu visto en esta ciudad que hayan abierto tienda a vender, de quien yo no haya sido corredora de su primer hilado. En nasciendo una mochacha, la hago scrivir en mi registro, y esto para que yo sepa quántas se me salen de la red. (C [Severin] 141, III)

|| Fazit des Augustinus [:] die Welt […] [ist] aus menschlicher Sicht Un-Ordnung, Chaos, civitas diaboli” (“Ordnung” 218). As to the above, see subch. 4.4, herein. 256 Menéndez Pelayo cares to assert: “Celestina tiene sus devociones, […] pero escarbando en el fondo de su alma se encuentra […] una cínica y monstruosa confusión de lo religioso y lo diabólico” (Orígenes III. CXXXIV; cf. “la grandeza y […] la perversidad transcendental […] de Celestina”, CXCV; La Celestina 193). 257 This sentence is indebted to Küpper (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020). 258 See Blumenberg, with context: “Es ist vor allem eine Ausdruckswelt, die sich durchhält. Die Sphäre der sakralen Sprache überlebt die der geweihten Sachen […]. Die Umbesetzung von Systemfunktionen im Prozeß des Epochenwandels bedingt die sprachliche Konstanz in vielfältiger Weise” (Legitimität 87–88; cf. Beiträge 22; and Lichtenberg “Betrachtungen” 60). In an affine sense, Küpper refers to a “Schema” qua “nur noch zitiertes […], welches in seiner Konventionalität bloßgelegt wird” (“Ordnung” 210n.). He further signals the problematic classification of the cited proverbs and maxims (“Ordnung” 196n.–197n.): “Die Handlungswelt des Stücks invalidiert die den Figuren in den Mund gelegten Maximen” (“Ordnung” 196n.). 259 “Dazu kommt, daß alle Sprichwörter und ethischen Lehren zwar in ihrem Inhalt und in ihrer Form aufrecht bleiben, aber durch den Zusammenhang, in dem sie stehen, ein verändertes Vorzeichen erhalten. Denn die Sentenzen und Maximen, die Stützen und Grundlage einer philosophischen Lebensführung sein können, werden gerade Personen in den Mund gelegt, deren Tun den dauernden Verzicht auf ein Leben, das sie durch ihre Sprüche anpreisen, in sich schließt: ‘Tu, was ich sage, nicht was ich tue’, sagt einmal zynisch der Diener Sempronio[;] denn er selber, wie […] Celestina, wie die Dirnen, begeben sich nur zum Schein unter den Einfluß der Weisheit, von der sie überfließen” (Schalk xiv; spec. re C [Severin] 94, I).

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Que aunque esté brava Melibea, no es ésta, si a Dios ha plazido, la primera a quien yo he hecho perder el cacarrear. Coxquillosicas son todas, mas después que una vez consienten la silla en el envés del lomo, nunca querrían holgar[.] (C [Severin] 144, III)260 CALISTO. […] Y dime luego, la causa de tu entrada, ¿qué fue? CELESTINA. Vender un poco de hilado, con que tengo caçadas más de treynta de su estado, si a Dios ha plazido, en este mundo, y algunas mayores. (C [Severin] 180, VI) Few virgins, praise God, have you seen open up shop in this city for whom I have not been the agent of their first sale. When a girl is born I enter her name in my register in order to know how many escape my net. (C [Peden] 49, III)261 For even if Melibea is a fierce opponent, she is not, may it please God, the first I have chocked the cackle out of. They are all a bit skittish in the beginning, but after they have once been saddled they never want a rest. (C [Peden] 51–52, III) CALISTO.

[…] And now tell me, what was your ruse to get inside? Selling a little thread, a stratagem by which, with God’s help, I have snared more than thirty of her sort, and some even higher. (C [Peden] 86, VI) CELESTINA.

Gainsaying the second commandment—“Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain” (Ex 20:7, with Dt 5:11; KJV)—this bawd with the ‘Celestial’ name praises or appeals to the Deity (“a Dios gracias”, “a Dios ha plazido”), and precisely as to rather ungodly matters.262 To believers—or recipients with some form of regard for spiritual spheres—such will likely seem cynical to the core.263

|| 260 López Grigera observes: “Celestina cuenta con su conocimiento de la condición humana para seducir” (“Causas” 123). Having basically done the job, Nature needs but slight prodding. 261 See Costa Fontes (122). Cf. “redes” (C [Severin] 143, III); “hilado”—i.e. what she performs in fact, and a synecdoche for what needs to be implemented (stitching them up); the tangible material (actually selling it, see C [Severin] 180, VI), and the deed to which it refers. Withal, both “red” and “hilado” are also isotopic: Celestina qua araña (figuratively)—a persuasive poison envelops her prey, which she then depletes for her purposes. The Scriptural reference will likely be to Ps 139:16—“Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them” (KJV). If so, the bawd is playing god; or rather, the devil—“et adoraverunt eam [sc. ‘bestiam’] omnes, qui inhabitant terram: quorum non sunt scripta nomina in libro vitae Agni” (Apoc. 13:8, with v.1; Vulgate; see Rev 17:8, 20:15, 21:27). 262 Hence this poetico-etymological speculation on the part of an anonymus may not seem all that far-fetched: “El author […] conpuso este nombre de una palabra latina que es scelus que quiere dezir traicion o maldad para tanbien manifestarnos por el nombre quan mala era […] esta mujer” (C Comentada 58, 32r–v, I.100). Cf. also Maestro (personaje 84n.), albeit cum grano salis in terms of form (misquotation) and context (ideological angle). On the above, see Canet: “Celestina, etimológicamente procede de caelestis, cuyo significado sería el de ‘celestial’, y su comportamiento es justamente el contrario” (224–225). Perhaps with a contrastive function, “Melibea […] pocas veces se acuerda de Dios en la obra” (López Grigera “Causas” 114; but see C

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Not only are the respective contexts (altogether) crude, obscene, reductive— women being represented as a commodity. Celestina also downright relishes every bit of it: (an undercurrent of) hardly concealed glee subtends all those breaches of the verbal aptum; of the given nómos, more generally.264 This play’s predominant protagonist is perpetually priding herself; moral theologically put: she is more than prone to superbia.265 6.6.1.4 Voiding the Other’s Value la risa en esta obra no tiene nada que ver con la cultura popular y carnavalesca del ‘mundo al revés’[.] —Di Camillo (“libertinaje [1999]” 73; “libertinaje [2001]” 586)266

This fourth heuristic class logs verbal judgments limiting—else completely invalidating—the other’s worth and service; in addition to such as declare the irrelevance of his or her well-being (to say naught of suffering). Regularly, some || [Severin] 162–163, IV). Once the lady’s agápe (“que es obra pía y santa sanar los apassionados y enfermos”, C [Severin] 166, IV) has evolved into éros, her respect for the highest commandment amounts to a physical and exclusive construal of its like (in Christ’s redaction; see Mt 22:37–39; Mk 12:29–31; Lk 10:27). Far from signifying heaven, Melibea’s “gloria” is with Calisto (“por seguille en todo”, C [Severin] 334, XX). The lady’s last action turns her nominal ‘soul-offering’ into a mockery of, and scorn for, the Deity: “se dirige expresamente a Dios para ofrecerle su alma, a pesar de que está a punto de cometer el pecado más grave” (López Grigera “Causas” 114; with: “a Él offrezco mi alma”, C [Severin] 335, XX). 263 She flouts that second commandment passim (nor exactly inadvertently, to say the least). 264 Not only on that score, Maestro’s asserting Celestina’s “nihilismo moral” (“Metafísica” 349; “un fondo de desesperanza nihilista”, 350; cf. personaje 82; 86; 87n.; 89–90) is textually untenable. The critic’s angle is speculative, (highly) anachronistic, ideological, judgmental (e.g. at personaje 85–86, 86n.; 89, 89n.; 90). A considerable degree of conceptual innocence seems to be at work passim; spec. as to the difference between ‘negare’ and ‘nihil’ (personaje 85; 86n.; 89; 92); between ‘pessimism’, ‘nihilism’, ‘per-’ resp. ‘inversion’ (personaje 89–92). Simple insistence (cf. e.g. personaje 82; 87n.; 89–90) cannot remedy the severity of said issues. 265 Celestina is describable in terms of avaritia, but also of superbia (hýbris); perchance more notably so, in that it aligns her with the foremost of the fallen. Cf. the hints in Clarke (105–106); her context is highly problematic. The former sin is given as “vicio de cobdicia” (Sempronio on the bawd); hence cupiditas is (quasi orthodoxly) aligned with avaritia: “avarienta” in the same sentence; “cobdicia”, “cobdiciando”, “avariento”, in the next (C [Severin] 272, XII). Celestina returns the compliment: “la mucha cobdicia que lo tenéys” (C [Severin] 272, XII). “SEMPRONIO. O vieja avarienta” (C [Severin] 274, XII). All of this is asserted shortly before they murder her. Referring to said event, Elicia also calls Celestina “cobdiciosa” (C [Severin] 297, XV). 266 “the laughter in this work has nothing to do with the popular and carnivalesque culture of [a] ‘world upside-down’” (trans. dsm). At any rate, its verticalities lead to horizontalities.

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(perceived) weakness will be capitalized on; or a given alter is simply totaled within a negative category. Signaling a lack of respect for the life of others, the quasi proverbial (notion of) ‘sooner you than me’ flavors—and is downright pervasive in—this play of various vicariosities.267 Areúsa states: Pero ya lo hecho es sin remedio y los muertos yrrecuperables. Y como dizen, mueran y bivamos. A los bivos me dexa a cargo, que yo te les daré tan amargo xarope a bever qual ellos a ti han dado. (C [Severin] 300, XV)268 But what has happened cannot be mended, and the dead cannot be revived, so as is said, ‘May they die and we live’. Leave the living to my care, for I will give them as bitter a syrup to sip as they have given you [sc. Elicia]. (C [Peden] 205, XV)

From what is a cynical remark in this context, the natural health professional immediately turns to the concept of vengeance.269 Misandry has already been mentioned. This drama is rife with misogynist comments, as well—largely on Sempronio’s part: Considera qué sesito está debaxo de aquellas grandes y delgadas tocas […] qué alvañares debaxo de templos pintados. (C [Severin] 97, I) Consider the miniscule brain hidden beneath those tall and elegant toques [sc. hats]! […] what cesspools beneath painted temples. (C [Peden] 14, I)270

|| 267 In a certain reading, this structure could be one possible implication of the Aristotelian conception of tragedy (which this play is not): the audience enjoys its ‘not factually being in the place of the resp. protagonist(s)’; even while being therein virtually, vicariously (generally, see “Poetics” 68–73, 1452b–1453a, §13). Along Blumenbergian lines, the ‘sooner you than me’ would be a ‘distancing’ or ‘depotentiation’ of—resp. ‘relief’ from—the ‘absolute’. Cf. his studies on shipwreck, spec. as to Lucretius (Schiffbruch 19; 28–29; 36; spec. 53, 61, 63–64; Höhlen. 335). 268 As Küpper stresses, Areúsa’s stance contrasts with the Tragicomedia’s peroratio; for a putatively “cynical Pleberio would indeed be on the lookout for the next woman (ideally, so that it will go quickly, one of the two prostitutes)[—]a[nd] then continue to live blithely” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm). 269 Areúsa’s present cynicism leads to Elicia’s later remark—ventriloquizing the former: “El diablo me da tener dolor por quien no sé si, yo muerta, lo toviera; aosadas que me dixo ella a mí lo cierto; nunca, hermana, traygas ni muestras más pena por el mal ni muerte de otro que él hiziera por ti. Sempronio holgara, yo muerta; pues ¿por qué, loca, me peno yo por él, degollado?” (C [Severin] 307, XVII). Generally thereto, see Gracián (Oráculo 113, §31; 137, §64; 192, §163; 254, §285). On the various devices and functionalizations of ‘putting words into someone’s mouth’, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism passim). 270 Sempronio’s misogyny is particularly glaring in the first act (spec. at C [Severin] 96–98, I). As to said tópos, the Scriptural reference will be most pertinent (Mt 23:27); see the discussion above. Cf. “‘Mulier speciosa et pulchra templum est super cloacam edificatum’” (C Comentada

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While the latter image is a commonplace, the best-known source—hence the allusion—will be to Scripture (Mt 23:27): Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness. (KJV)271

The sardonically pithy reworking thereof adds to the artfulness in the above.272 Sempronio’s cynical remarks also reduce the value of women to physical uses: ¡O qué plaga, o qué enojo, o qué fastío es conferir con ellas, más de aquel breve tiempo, que aparejadas son a deleyte! (C [Severin] 98, I) What a plague! What a vexation! How trying to talk with them more than the brief time we need in making love to them! (C [Peden] 14, I)273

|| 37, 26r, I.72; with 37n.). The latter ascribes this sententia to Socrates, via D. Laertius (likewise Severin, citing Castro Guisasola, C [Severin] 97n.). Instead, it appears in a comparably titled collection traditionally attributed to Burley: “Mulıer ſpecıoſa et pulc̃. templũ eſt ſup cloacam edıfıcatũ” (27v). Haupt records the variant: “Mulier speciosa et stulta est pulcrum templum super cloacam fundatum” (379, §72). A structurally affine dictum is found in D. Laertius, giving a philosophical catalog of attempts at defining beauty: “Beauty [‘τὸ κάλος’] he [sc. Aristotle] declared to be a greater recommendation than any letter of introduction. Others attribute this definition to Diogenes; Aristotle, they say, defined good looks as the gift of god, Socrates [defined it] as a short-lived reign, Plato as natural superiority, Theophrastus as a mute deception [‘σιωπῶσαν ἀπάτην’], Theocritus as an evil in an ivory setting [‘ἐλεφαντίνην ζημίαν’], Carneades as a monarchy that needs no bodyguard” (Lives I. 460–463, V.18–19). The entries likely to be relevant in the case at hand are given in the Greek. Since Socrates also appears in the list, a reattribution, in addition to refunctionalizations, might have suggested itself—and may well have been the Ancient case, already. 271 “Vae vobis scribae et pharisaei hypocritae, quia similes estis sepulchris dealbatis, quae a foris parent hominibus speciosa, intus vero pleni sunt ossibus mortuorum, et omni spurcitia!” (Vulgate). Hypoleptico-paronomastically, Sempronio’s “alvañares” ties in with “dealbatis”— their implications being precisely opposed (clearly excremental in the former, apparently bleached in the latter). Performatively, this reproduces the semantic bistability conveyed by the entire sententia in either case: “debaxo de” corresponds to “a foris parent”; “templos” to “sepulchris”; “pintados” to “dealbatis” and “speciosa”; “alvañares” to “ossibus mortuorum”, “spurcitia”. On (rhetorical) ‘hypólepsis’, see Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim). 272 In the Scriptural passage, the pronouncement has a moral impetus, of course. 273 The castellano is sufficiently ‘worse’. For the term aparejadas objectifies or animalizes women. Withal, the notion of ‘pairing’ seems present (cf. ‘aparearse’). It downgrades them to the time they are of service sexually—‘disposed’ for their ‘breve’ use. Cynicism is contingent upon the language. The aforesaid word is employed by Celestina apropos the devil: “Por aquí anda el diablo aparejando oportunidad” (C [Severin] 153, IV; plus 171, V). Misogyny (see spec. C [Severin] 96–98, I) will be a form of denying the other’s value; often by reducing it to a

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One is facing a tersely derisive dictum, with a decidedly reductive impetus.274 Nor is said servant the only protagonist with a respective penchant.275 The last in the present category, a rapid, highly hypoleptic—and otherwise decidedly comic—exchange may well seem to display cynical potential even so: SEMPRONIO. Pues, ¿quién está arriba? / CELESTINA. ¿Quiéreslo saber? / SEMPRONIO. Quiero. / CELESTINA. Una moça, que me encomendó un frayle. / SEMPRONIO. ¿Qué frayle? / CELESTINA. No lo procures. / SEMPRONIO. Por mi vida, madre, ¿qué frayle? / CELESTINA. ¿Porfías? El ministro, el gordo. / SEMPRONIO. ¡O desventurada, y qué carga espera! / CELESTINA. Todo lo levamos; pocas mataduras has tú visto en la barriga. / SEMPRONIO. Mataduras no, mas petreras, sí. (C [Severin] 106, I)276 SEMPRONIO.

But who is it up there? / CELESTINA. You want to know? / SEMPRONIO. I do. / A girl a priest entrusted to me. / SEMPRONIO. What priest? / CELESTINA. Do not ask. / SEMPRONIO. On my life, Mother, what priest? / CELESTINA. You persist? The abbot, the fat one. / SEMPRONIO. Poor girl, what a burden awaits her! / CELESTINA. We all carry one. You have not, though, seen much saddle gall on any belly. / SEMPRONIO. Saddle gall, maybe not, but more than a few girth burns. (C [Peden] 20, I) CELESTINA.

Should someone be saying ‘c’est la vie’ about a matter that is factually in his or her own hands—while being to another’s detriment—such will likely be received as cynical. Celestina’s retort is crisp, quick-witted, incisive, acute in its brevity. || particular—stereotypically, a bodily—feature or factor. It pertains to the content axis of cynical statements, if the receiving morality believes in the ideas of human equality, dignity (say). 274 Against this general backdrop, Sempronio’s dictum might be still more invasive, should he be implying that the foremost problem with an expressly dialogic interchange is its usually amounting to a putting in of face time (not exactly mandatory under altered circumstances). Generally in that respect, see Blumenberg (Beschreibung 878). 275 Denial of another’s worth, disdain for the alter (resp. his or her values), are pervasive in this play. The ensuing dialogic exchange may seem to present a most cultivated scorn for someone else’s well-being: “CELESTINA. Señor, no atajes mis razones; déxame dezir, que se va haziendo noche; ya sabes quien malhaze aborrece claridad y, yendo a mi casa, podré haver algún mal encuentro. / CALISTO. ¿Qué, qué? Sí, que hachas y pajes a que te acompañen. / PÁRMENO. (¡Sí, sí, por que no fuercen a la niña! Tú yrás con ella, Sempronio, que ha temor de los grillos que cantan con lo escuro)” (C [Severin] 184, VI). Pármeno shows sheer contempt for Celestina’s old age, outward appearance. In effect, he is saying: ‘she is so worse for wear, hence physically repulsive—no one could even wish to violate her’. Concinnously derisive utterances are paradigmatically cynical. Celestina later turns that remark with insulting intent (which she may have overheard) into an affirmation: “que yo vieja soy; no he temor que me fuercen en la calle” (C [Severin] 209, VII; cf. Severin “Humour [1979]” 280; “humor [2001]” 336). 276 “carga”—i.e. being his concubine qua human futon, with a pun on pregnancy; see the above analysis. Incidentally, Celestina’s grasp on how to ‘handle’ her ‘encomendamientos’ brings to light the abysmal implications or possibilities of delegation. Generally as to the above, see Samonà (181–182); Severin (“Humour [1979]” 288; “humor [2001]” 349).

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Atrophying empathy—or what passes for compassion, since Sempronio is not exactly known for his perspective taking—by means of such an (only apparently fatalistic) reply will have a tendency to be perceived as (icily) derisive; here specifically at the expense of an alter’s well-being.277 Apart from the obscenities trailing it, the pivotal dictum will therefore be: SEMPRONIO. Poor girl, what a burden awaits her! CELESTINA. We all carry one. (C [Peden] 20, I)278

These remarks more than insinuate the exploitation of her (else his) body; and specifically by such as would otherwise have to act in a protective manner (here with respect to a given flock).279 Withal, the physical flouting of another’s (free) will appears to be involved almost unavoidably: particularly in the rather graphic allusions to friction, even violation; the reduction of a human being to a commodity (a futon, mattress, “saddle”); or to an animal (via the imagery relating to horseback riding); plus the resultant pun on (unwanted) pregnancy.280 What renders this vulgar and unethical passage downright artful is the subversion of a crucial dictum: “Sobrellevad los unos las cargas de los otros; y cumplid así la ley de Cristo” (Gal 6:2; RVA).281 All of the above transpires in an interchange of (extremely) terse remarks, within the brief space of a fast-paced dialog. Formally, this swiftly hypoleptic situation may (almost) seem amusing. Yet the content is dire—at least if one cares to take the perspective of said girl. The latter is not an arbitrary choice on the part of a given reception, but inscribed into the text itself (if mockingly).282 The otherwise required moral reaction is generally alluded to, hence virtually present—even while consciously, willfully waived in an aestheticized exchange

|| 277 It is not fatalistic: Celestina is a causative of—hence could alter—this state of play, indeed. 278 Melibea will have a similar attitude towards her father before she suicides. It cannot but register as cynical to be counseling fatalism—or expressing it on the other’s behalf—while one would have the option of waiving (else changing) the resp. conditions for the alter; i.e. where the action is still in the future, and in one’s own hands. See the discussion in subch. 6.6.1.5. 279 Generally: “cata que del buen pastor es proprio tresquilar sus ovejas y ganado, pero no destruyrlo y estragallo” (C [Severin] 285, XIV; cf. spec. C Comentada 401, 174v, XIV.5). 280 As to “the brothel scenes”, Round logs a “reduction of all human pretensions to the same sordid level” (51). Quarantining the critic’s habitual moralizing, the point will be pertinent. 281 “Alter alterius onera portate, et sic adimplebitis legem Christi” (Vulgate). “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ” (Gal 6:2; KJV). 282 Noetico-vicarious reciprocity or perspective taking is indeed evoked (if verbally only); hence effected in the (attentive) recipient.

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of immoral content.283 Such is the case throughout Celestina, which may well seem a cynical text overall—not least for that very reason. 6.6.1.5 Pleasure at Any Cost—Specifically the Other’s There are few uglier traits of human nature than this tendency —[…] in men no worse than their neighbours—to grow cruel, merely because they possessed the power of inflicting harm. —Hawthorne (40, ‘The Custom-House’)

Within this heuristic category, the remarks on the part of the lovers may seem especially illustrative. In one of his soliloquies, Calisto declares: Pues por más mal y daño que me venga, no dexaré de complir el mandado de aquella por quien todo esto se ha causado. Que más me va en conseguir la ganancia de la gloria que spero, que en la pérdida de morir los que murieron. Ellos eran sobrados y esforçados, agora o en otro tiempo de pagar havían. La vieja era mala y falsa, según paresce que hazía trato con ellos, y assí que riñeron sobre la capa del justo. Permissión fue divina que assí acabassen en pago de muchos adulterios que por su intercessión o causa son cometidos. (C [Severin] 281–282, XIII) Well, whatever evil and harm may befall me, I will not fail to obey the command of the woman for whom all this has taken place [sc. Melibea, but in fact Calisto’s luxuria]. More important to me than to mourn the loss of those who died is to obtain the benefit of the glory I long for [sc. consummation]. The lads were arrogant and bellicose: they were fated to pay now or [at] some other time. It appears from the deal she [sc. Celestina] had made with them that the old woman was evil and false, and that they ended by quarreling over their gains. It was divine will that she ended that way, in payment for the many adulteries engendered through her intercession [or caused by her]. (C [Peden] 186, XIII)284

|| 283 Cf. “Cynicism is the conscious and demonstrative rejection of a required moral attitude” (Niehues-Pröbsting “Modern Reception” 360; with Kynismus 326). 284 Once more, Peden’s innocent trans. takes off the (discursive) edge: hardly will “they ended by quarreling over their gains” (C [Peden] 186, XIII) adequately render “riñeron sobre la capa del justo” (C [Severin] 282, XIII; plus 282n.; also “riñen” at 297, XV); approx. ‘they fought over the cape (or outer garments) of the just one’. Contextually, this cannot but intimate Calisto’s (golden) chain. By way of the parallelization, he not only vindicates, but downright aligns himself—with Christ (see above). The pairing will be abysmal at all levels: simple clothing vs. valuable jewelry; the crucifixion of a blameless man vs. the self-justification of a narcissistic adulterer; not to mention the implications accruing in view of Celestina’s and Calisto’s death (the former accompanied by the official execution of two murderers). The point is not a total inversion of the Passion; but an assortment of abysmal insinuations—whereof an attentive reader cannot but partake (qua noetic accomplice).

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Artfully refining unethical content, this rhetorical highlight will merit a reading attentive to the form: consecutive, double alliteration (“Pues por más mal”); quasi delegative redescription of his own luxuria as commanded by another (“mandado”); explicit accent on self-interest (“más me va en conseguir”) and gain (“ganancia”); reapplication of an otherwise religious term for a decidedly this-worldly matter (“gloria” qua consummation, climax of Calisto’s lust); momentaneously reducing the value of suffering in others; underscored by the polyptoton as a factuality (“morir […] murieron”); paronomastic dicolon with valuative intent (“sobrados y esforçados”); rationalization of particular deaths via a generalizing, thought-terminating cliché (“agora o en otro tiempo de pagar havían” qua ‘everyone dies’); shifting of the blame, stressed by a further wellwrought parallel with valuative bent (“mala y falsa”); oblique (here altogether inappropriate) reference to a familiar passage as to the fate of Christ’s clothes (see Mt 27:35, Lk 23:34, Mk 15:25, Jn 19:24); finally, writing off all deaths (accentuated via the assonating consonance in “assí acabassen”) by way of the accustomed set piece ‘God willed it’ (“Permissión […] divina”); and this right after that (cohesive) allusion to the crucifixion; with the added importunacy of giving as a punished (“pago”) sin one similar to that which he has been contemplating himself (“adulterios”, here qua fornicatio); and is about to ‘commit’ (“cometidos”)—based precisely on their past “intercession”.285 As to content, recipients are facing a case of redescription. For Melibea’s alleged delegation and “command” comes down to the call of Calisto’s own coveting. His utterly this-worldly lust is specified in otherwise theological terms (“gloria”); and the latter expressly linked to a mercantilistic one (“ganancia”). Given the ego’s pleasure-seeking, the demise of alteri becomes irrelevant.286 Then the blame is shifted. Following the cliché that ‘all men must die’, even the Deity makes his entrance into this rationalization (see Küpper “Ordnung” 188n.–189n.). God is said to be punishing in the departed a transgression (adulterium) not exactly unlike the one Calisto is envisaging incessantly, and about to perform indeed (fornicatio). Consequently, the crucial cynical sentence will be: “More important to me than to mourn the loss of those who died is to obtain the benefit of the glory I long for” (C [Peden] 186, XIII). This is reaccentuated by way of a structurally equivalent scene taking place later (see Küpper “Ordnung” 189n.), which exceeds the above—outperformance being a frequent strategy in the rhetoricity of cynical remarks:

|| 285 Adultery always involves fornication; not all instances of the latter pertain to the former. 286 The glosses call this “su cruel indiferencia” (C [Severin] 282n.).

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Acuérdate, Calisto, al gran gozo passado; acuérdate a tu señora y tu bien todo, y pues tu vida no tienes en nada por su servicio, no as de tener las muertes de otros, pues ningún dolor ygualará con el recebido plazer. (C [Severin] 291, XIV) remember, Calisto, your enveloping pleasure, remember your dear mistress, your wellbeing. And since your life is nothing if not in her service, you do not have to be greatly concerned about the deaths of others, for no sorrow will ever equal the pleasure you have received. (C [Peden] 195–196, XIV)287

The protagonist addressing himself in this passage else appears excessively ludicrous—a walking hyperbole of a courtly lover manqué (or gone mad).288 Here, however, the speaker is being artfully immoral; and his cynicism (dead) serious, in its (ethical) implications. The climax of such a mode of speech (and corresponding stance) occurs just before Melibea leaps from the tower. Regarding her reaction to Calisto’s death, Küpper—accentuating ‘absolute contingency’ qua causative (see “Ordnung” 191, 191n.)—notably observes: In a world without order[,] the concept of ‘mourning’ has no place[;] [there] are no ‘lessons’ to be drawn from the misfortune of others[; and there is] no need for taking any moral considerations [literally: respects]. (“Ordnung” 192; trans. dsm)

Where chance reigns unchecked, naught will seem stable, established—nor hold good for longer than a besotted breath; or the evanescence of a whim. As most matters might be else (including not at all), it may well appear reasonable to let oneself go. The eloquence born from such a mindflow cannot but tend toward the cynical, inasmuch as it involves others—and to their detriment. Already in the sixteenth act, an infatuated Melibea had proudly proclaimed: que más vale ser buena amiga que mala casada; […] no quiero marido[.] […] que ni quiero marido, ni quiero padre, ni parientes. (C [Severin] 304 and 305, XVI) it is better to be a good mistress than a bad wife. […] I do not want a husband[.] […] I do not want a husband, I do not want a father or relatives! (C [Peden] 209 and 210, XVI)289

|| 287 Artful rationalization (using reason in the service of immorality) conduces to cynicism, here (and generally). In a projecting move, Calisto applies his measures to others; hence holds their deaths irrelevant. The turn occurs by virtue of the polyptoton (“tienes”, “tener”), which glosses over the conceptual, logical leap (if superficially). 288 Cf. “Calisto es un amante cortés paródico” (Severin “Intro.” 26; with 29–30); “es una parodia del amante cortés” (“Intro.” 27). 289 See Mendoza Negrillo (248; contrast 250–253). Green’s take is problematic (Western Trad. I. 112). Cf. “Vor ihrem Selbstmord spricht sie [sc. Melibea] […] nicht von ihrer Ehre, sondern nur von ihrem Liebhaber […]. Eine solche Gestalt ist in der spanischen, ja in der europäischen

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(Not only) from the perspective of the contemporaneous ethics (both intra- and extratextually), such a declaration of independence from all social ties must (have) seem(ed) downright outrageous. Memorably, Küpper glosses: The animal rationale, whose rationality sees itself robbed of its function, reduces itself to the dimensions of a pleasure machine [‘Lustmaschine’]. The contingent world [ultimately] signifies the termination of all sociability. (“Ordnung” 203; trans. dsm; see 203n., 207n.)290

From the angle of a family-based morality (especially in an aristocratic milieu), such a stance should appear highly objectionable (to say the least). Be that as it may. What she (toutingly) avers in the twentieth act could seem so shockingly selfish—so artfully ungrateful, eliding all loyalty—that it might be deemed the very culmination of cynicism (than which little will be chillier): Toma, padre viejo, los dones de tu vegez, que en largos días largas se sufren tristezas. Recibe las arras de tu senectud antigua; recibe allá tu amada hija. (C [Severin] 335, XX) Accept, venerated father, the gifts of your age; for with long days long sadness is suffered. Accept the compensation for your senectitude and there receive your beloved daughter! (C [Peden] 241, XX)291

Whereas Melibea had previously and generally gainsaid the mores (specifically the codes of her class), she here defies a particular—her father. The statement may come down to signifying: ‘it is your own fault to have gotten so old; now watch me die’. Or else: ‘having had the good fortune of such a long life, now pay the price by seeing me suicide’. Haughtily, she counsels that another accept his lot, while being herself responsible therefor—and tout court. This supposed fatum (an aging father bereaved of his only daughter) is hardly fated.292 The self-eliding lady’s wanton choice is ultimately based on nothing but arrant, rampant amor sui.293 || Literatur des Spätmittelalters Repräsentant von etwas völlig Neuem[;] die Beziehungen, die sich hier herstellen, treiben hinaus über alle Grenzen des Überlieferten” (Schalk xxii). 290 For an application of this structure to Machiavelli’s Principe, see Küpper (“Ordnung” 211; more universally: “Uti and frui” S152; S153n.). With reference to the hedonistic ground swell in Celestina, López Grigera stresses “la omnipresencia del placer en los motivos de las acciones de los personajes” (“Causas” 118). In general, cf. also Rohde (55), cum grano salis. 291 Küpper accentuates: “the absence of any [sort of] remorse” in Melibea is a “reflex of the fact that in a world without necessity only one’s own will counts[;] and [that] it is pointless to do anything else than what this will commands” (“Ordnung” 193; trans. dsm). Likewise, the scholar draws attention to “[t]he repulsive aspects of such an emancipation of desire from all moral commitments in a world of contingency” (“Ordnung” 193n.; trans. dsm). 292 However, Fothergill-Payne’s speculation cannot be excluded altogether: “Indeed, she may

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In some (distorted) sense, Melibea may seem an inversion of Christ. Her every act is driven by an exclusive love for a particular; rather than an inclusive one, for all. She effects her own death: not at the behest of some supreme being; nor as a sacrifice for a greater good; but—just—to assert her voluntas.294 Within a consummately contingent world, the only measure of value—the sole standard of some plausibility—is sheer will. Melibea’s rhetorically effectual rationalization of Pleberio’s suffering as being due to his ‘unnatural(ly)’ long life—rather than caused by her liberum arbitrium—is unusually cruel; and altogether gratuitous. Adding insult to the injury she anyhow effects, the lady scorns the living (who happen to cherish her)—for no reason at all.295 An uninhibited love of self drives her to willfully shift the blame to Nature— aging its agents, while not dispatching them in what she deems ‘due time’; and ultimately to her father per se.296 In theological terms, Melibea flouts the fourth commandment by deliberately not ‘honoring her parents’ (see Ex 20:12; Dt 5:16). In its stead, she delivers a ruelessly ‘secularized’ confession; and—not just incidentally—augments her family’s grief by needlessly causing them even more pain than she already intends to produce.297 Withal, the inversion of Scripture is more abysmal still, in that the latter’s reason for reverence reads: “ut sis longaevus super terram” (Ex 20:12; Vulgate); “ut longo vivas tempore, et bene sit tibi in terra” (Dt 5:16).298 Yet Melibea has no

|| well have perceived Calisto’s premature death as a personal affront for which somebody had to pay. A natural target, then, would be not her maid, but her beloved father. […] Could there be a morbid pleasure in inflicting such torment?” (Seneca 88). 293 See Fothergill-Payne: “Melibea’s self-inflicted death […] is motivated by self-interest and self-pity” (Seneca 87); “her grief is entirely self-centred, bordering on rage. […] her impulse to follow her lover in death is indifferent to the pain she is about to inflict” (Seneca 88). 294 To such as incline toward believing that Jesus of Nazareth was not delegated from on high, Mt 26:39 (with 26:42, 26:44) would be structurally equivalent to the above scenario. His (excessive) love for men would have led him to be prodigal with his own life (see Jn 15:13). Even those graced (or cursed) with the Faith cannot reject this reading out of hand, considering Christ’s notorious last words—at least as reported by, or ventriloquized in, two Gospels (Mt 27:46; Mk 15:34). On the latter, cf. subch. 11.1.1. Contrast the case(s) of Lucretia; treated in ch. 7. 295 In other words: Melibea randomly enhances the suffering on her father’s part—not least via the rhetorical refinement of her remarks. 296 Perchance even implying that he himself might have taken action (or should now)—and rid the earth of his senescent presence. As to ‘due time’, see Ecc 3:1–8 (paradigmatically). 297 Alisa might be spared the added torment by dying on the spot, at the sight of her crushed daughter. Yet Melibea could not foresee this. It is doubtful whether she would (be able to) care. 298 “so that you may live long” (Ex 20:12; NIV); “so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land” (Dt 5:16).

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use for a ‘long life’; and derides others for having it. All of the above is her form of condescension—of ‘artwillful’ superbia: and then the free fall.299 In generic terms, courtly—as well as any—‘love’ is surely ‘cold’ here (at the latest; Mt 24:12). The lady consciously contravenes the aptum by speaking her egotistic heart so parrhesiastically. The above would have scandalized an Early Modern audience or readership. Yet it might still seem chillingly cynical even to present-day recipients—despite the decadence and effeminacy of the Occident’s twenty-first century, where such (verbal) conduct is hardly exceptional.300

6.6.2 Celestina qua Cynic an animal rationale, perceiving itself robbed of the terrain, whereon its rationality may performatively enact itself, has no alternative but to live [out] the other side of its being[.] —Küpper (“Ordnung” 211; trans. dsm)

It will be requisite to briefly address the issue of a cynical stance’s potential presence in the text at hand. Probably, its interrelated qualities—reckoning with contingency, striving for self-sufficiency, adapting to changing circumstances, radically affirming this world, body, and selves—are (more or less) consistently present in but one protagonist.301 It is Celestina, who may well qualify as a cynic—albeit not tout court.302 As regards reliably remaining alert to—provisionally predicting, tentatively preparing for—any happenchance, Celestina performs this at virtually all times. Simultaneously, she is extremely conscious of—(self-servingly) calculates on— the contingency of the conventional, factual. In her view, naught need (nor will)

|| 299 See Küpper (“Ordnung” 193), as cited in the n. above. 300 While indeed caricatured in certain parts of the play, the thematic backdrop of amor cortés is surely no longer present as a negative foil here. Qua overall text, Celestina is not a parody. 301 For those factors, see the general description of cynicism in Mayfield (Artful 12–13; 53–55). As Cisneros Araujo observes: “El cinismo consiste en un arte de vivir” (125). Whether or not that signifies some sort of ‘heroicness’ may well be open to debate; if so, then a ‘virtuoso’ one. 302 With respect to said character, Menéndez Pelayo speaks of “[e]stas representaciones del mal llevado al último límite, que llaman los estéticos ‘sublime de mala voluntad’ […][.] Celestina es […] un abismo de perversidad, pero algo humano queda en el fondo […]. Si sus intenciones son abominables, sus palabras suelen ser sabias”—“cínicas palabras […] con suavidad” (Orígenes III. XCV–XCVI; with CXXXIV, CXCV; La Celestina 138–139; cf. 193). In such and similar formulations, the scholar discerns the confluence of artfulness and immorality characteristic of cynicism. For a rhetorical description of the latter qua pertaining to the ‘genus sublime contra bonos mores’, see Mayfield (Artful 35, 35n.; 129, 129n.; 298; 411n.).

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remain in its current form. With the exception of death, all seems subject to, and susceptible of, change—and most things otherwise than they appear, anyway. For her diverse selves and habitual approach, the procuress translates this general state of play or affairs into always crafting her own opportunities—into resourcefully fabricating needs and necessities for others.303 The titular protagonist is paradigmatically self-reliant and -sufficient.304 Recurrently and characteristically delegating tasks when exploiting others for her purposes, the bawd tends to ensure that it is ultimately (only) her, who holds the decisive strings.305 Withal, she openly counsels, asserts animalistic bearing, while virtually always arrogating godlikeness—a personification of autárkeia (respectively superbia).306 On account of her hexical insight into the world’s contingency, Celestina continuously and anticipatingly adapts to changing circumstances.307 Her

|| 303 “Pero yo le [sc. Pármeno] haré de mi hierro, si bivo; yo le contaré en el número de los míos” (C [Severin] 143, III). The latter has decided similarities to the wording in Acts 1:17 (as to Judas). Withal, cf. Isa 53:12 (typically read qua reference forward—to Jesus). Celestina may seem to be the only one actually concerned with mortality—i.e. before deaths take place in the play. She is also the first to go. Generally as to the above, see the onsets of chs. 7 and 8, herein. 304 Blüher speaks of “einer auf brutaler Selbstbehauptung beruhenden amoralischen Lebenskunst, wie sie die Celestina vertritt” (123). 305 Concerning her libido dominandi, see Round: “For surely, Celestina’s bien propio […] is dominance, omnicompetence, power” (44). The bawd makes use of every- and anything as might give her potentia (over others)—utilizing people’s needs and urges to her end; and she does so efficiently, rationally. Perchance, it is less avaritia with a view to wealth that defines her—this being the text’s express suggestion (cf. e.g. C [Severin] 272, 274, XII; with Küpper “Ordnung” 187). Possibly more important may well be her greed for power: considering one of her topmost professions, a mainstream collocation in the English language would appear to be apt de re (though inappropriate, here). Only once—and at a decisive point—does she fail to judge the situation adequately, expediently (“eine[…] punktuelle[…] Nicht-Berücksichtigung der Interessenlage ihrer Kumpane”, “Ordnung” 187). 306 If one is prepared to quarantine Gilman’s routine biographism—as well as his nondescript conflation of ‘irony’ with the phenomenon at issue (cf. “Rebirth” 291; Spain 367–368)—the ensuing will be to the point: “With supreme cynicism[,] he [sc. ‘Rojas’] imputes to a sink of human degradation th[at] […] admired trait […]: […] maintenance of the self in the face of all adverse circumstances” (“Rebirth” 304). On Celestina’s virtuosity, see the n. in subch. 7.2.3. 307 With a view to herself alone, the procuress refunctionalizes various familiar statements to this effect: “Say instead, like Virgil, that Fortune favors the bold” (C [Peden] 35, I; with C Comentada 101–102, 48v, I.164; and C [Severin] 123, 123n.–124n.); “for Fortune always favors the attempt” (C [Peden] 58, IV; plus C Comentada 180–181, 78r–v, IV.5; and C [Severin] 150). “Good fortune, how you aid the daring and belay the timid!” (C [Peden] 77, V; with C Comentada 236–237, 100r, V.4; 236n.; C [Severin] 171, 171n.). Cf. Virgil: “audentis Fortuna iuvat” (“Aeneid I–VI.” 192, X.284); subch. 3.3, herein. As the Celestina Comentada demonstrates (see

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tactics of acclimatizing are virtuoso, unprincipled, self-serving, ultimately (if underhandedly) sans regard for official customs, norms—and other human beings. She is paradigmatically flexible as to moral matters.308 Conceitedly and shamelessly, Celestina affirms this life and world, her various personae—their every interest and (physical) pleasure.309 Said assertion of self is insistent, quasi total, which frequently leads to statements received by others as verbally violating their values or life. Beneath a veneer of expedient duplicity, the bawd appears to have no honest consideration for the well-being of those around her. In all she does, she cunningly deceives any alter with a view to her personal gain, advancement.310 By the official standards of her (textual) time, this procuress is a paragon of virtually any form of immorality.311 In all these aspects, the character ‘Celestina’

|| above), the dictum is highly floatational—hence oft-refunctionalized—already in Antiquity; and continues to be so. Cf. also Mendoza Negrillo (243, 243n.); Leube (Die “Celestina” 47). 308 As to Celestina’s adaptation: “El propósito muda el sabio; el necio persevera. A nuevo negocio nuevo consejo se requiere. No pensé yo, hijo Sempronio, que assí me respondiera mi buena fortuna. De los discretos mensajeros es hazer lo que el tiempo quiere, assí que la calidad de lo hecho no puede encobrir tiempo dissimulado” (C [Severin] 174, V). Cf. “for although I was called here for one purpose, I have come for another, and although I have pretended I did not know you [sc. Pármeno], you are the reason I am here. […] your father […] left buried a treasure” (C [Peden] 32–33, I; cf. C [Severin] 120–121). See Navarro Gala (“capaz de improvisar”, 330), who accentuates “[l]a enorme e inagotable capacidad de la vieja para aprovechar cualquier acontecimiento inesperado y llevarlo a favorecer su causa” (331). 309 Cf. Schalk: “Celestina [‘scheint’] in einer Zielrichtung zu verharren und aufzugehen. Wie durch eine Naturgewalt wird sie stets zum Sinnlichen herabgezogen” (xvi). She likewise employs this tendency in her ‘seductions’ of other personae; e.g. Pármeno, Melibea, Areúsa. 310 Celestina deceives with verities: “Do not trust the vain promises of masters, they drain the substance of their servants with hollow promises the way the leech sucks blood” (C [Peden] 34, I; see C [Severin] 122)—precisely what she will be doing. Cf. “Par añadidura, Celestina le [sc. Sempronio] llena de mentiras y Elicia juega a engañarle malignamente con la verdad” (Lida de Malkiel “técnica” 287). Generally, Gracián: “engañar con la misma verdad” (Oráculo 108, §13). 311 Ever is morality a veneer or simulacrum (see Blumenberg “Recht des Scheins” 419). That the populace does not factually adhere to a given one is not at issue. What matters is that it tacitly agree—ultimately in the interest of crafting, as well as sustaining, a community—that appearances must be preserved; and at virtually all costs. The human desire and capacity for (self-)illusion may seem infinite—being vital (cf. subchs. 13.1 and 13.5, herein). In this view, the question of ‘hypocrisy’ does not pose itself, seeing as a difference between the official and the enacted is constitutive of morality. This also yields a description of culture. The superstructure is always more reductive (pre- or proscriptive) in content than the factualities it tries to contain (sc. that humanly constitutive plus ultra). As to the public opinion concerning her practices, see Sempronio’s portrayal: “A witch, astute, wise in every wickedness that exists, she calls herself Celestina. I understand that in this city over five thousand maidenheads have been

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represents the cynical stance downright exemplarily.312 Consequently, she may well be taken as a ‘Diogena rediviva’. Even so, certain restrictions and qualifications will apply. Although her effectual comportment could hardly be more this-worldly, the supernatural ascriptions—notably Celestina’s conjuring scene (see C [Severin] 147–148, III)— may seem to indicate a beyond (in name, at least). Her calling on the ‘Devil’ might be perceived as structurally equivalent to addressing the Christian God; or the female one of Chance. Still, these are but nominal stand-ins. For the bawd does make her fate, actually crafts her own (mis)fortune.313 Relying (only) on her peculiar resources or -fulness, she strives for self-sufficiency by any means and all (‘foul or fair’).314 Secondly, Celestina stresses her previous codependence with Claudina—a fellow witch, procuress, and Pármeno’s mother.315 This relationship is said to have been highly symbiotic—at least if one is to trust her narrative. It might show signs of a retroactive manipulation of facts or assessments—effectually bearing out the rhetorical technique by virtue of which the past may be subject(ed) to contingency, as well.316 Thirdly, Celestina not only reckons with mortality. It seems to be the sole force she does respect in this universe: “¡O muerte, muerte[!]” (C [Severin] 142, III). Such would be at odds with a Diogenical defiance or disregard of death. || restored and undone by her hand” (C [Peden] 18, I; cf. C [Severin] 103). Pármeno’s depiction: “restorer of maidenheads, procuress, and, on occasion, witch” (C [Peden] 24, I; with C [Severin] 110). See also Celestina’s rendition of her friend Claudina, in whose practices she seems to have partaken: “There were no Christians or Moors or Jews whose burials she did not visit; in the daytime she looked them over, by night she dug them up” (C [Peden] 101, VII; with C [Severin] 196). See Severin (“Witch” 419–420; passim); Rodríguez Puértolas (102). 312 The basic confluence observed by Gilman will be pertinent, if taken cum grano salis: “this […] coexistence […] of full humanity with evil” (“Rebirth” 305; cf. “humanly monstrous”, Spain 368; sans the biographism). In other words: self-affirmation sin respeto alguno. 313 See subch. 6.5, herein. In the above sense, Leube’s remark may receive another nuance: “Celestina und Fortuna sind die maßgebenden von außen wirkenden Kräfte des tragischen Geschehens” (Fortuna 281). With López Grigera: “Celestina sirve de catalizador” (“Causas” 121). 314 “CELESTINA. (Por aquí anda el diablo aparejando oportunidad, arreziando el mal a la otra. Ea, buen amigo, tener rezio, agora es mi tiempo o nunca; no la dexes; llévamela de aquí a quien digo)” (C [Severin] 153, IV). Cf. “A tuerto o a derecho” (C [Severin] 123, I). 315 See Severin: “Únicamente Celestina parece estar sola; pero también ha tenido una compañera, Claudina, de la que Elicia es pobre sustituta” (“Intro.” 41; referring to Gilman, e.g. at Art 70; 84; 87; 97; 145; 227n.–228n.). It would seem so indeed: “Only Celestina and […] Elicia […] exhibit any sort of domestic harmony (in this Rojas displays the full bite of his irony), a weird and violent harmony which is maintained cynically by both of them” (“Rebirth” 294). 316 Generally thereto, see also subchs. 4.1 and 4.3, herein.

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Finally, most importantly, Celestina apparently perishes in a wholly uncynical fashion—crying out for a final ‘confession’ in that thrice repeated last word.317 Then again, this triple mention will hardly be incidental (metapoetically). Küpper observes that such may well amount to a “climax of implicit cynicism”: as per contemporaneous moral theology, Celestina’s threefold exclamation performs what one terms ‘attritio’—the minimal condition for purgatory, even without a priest’s absolution; according to the prevailing doctrine, she would indeed become a ‘celestial’ one at some time post mortem; whereas the young lovers, guilty of the widespread sin of luxuria, Calisto, Melibea, e tutti quanti, hence all of the less culpable ones, perish in the state of sin and so will have to go to hell forever. (trans. dsm)318

|| 317 “CELESTINA. ¡Ay, que me ha muerto, ay, ay, confessión, confessión! […] ¡Confessión!” (C [Severin] 274, XII). Generally, see Küpper (“Ordnung” 195; 221); rhetorically, Samonà (180n.). 318 “Melibea might be a ‘special case’ since she commits suicide (which is a grave sin). Still, it is debatable (and would have been a nice topic for contemporaneous moral theological casuistry) whether or not her punctual infringement of Divine law is, indeed, more important than Celestina’s innumerable acts of sin and crime” (this and the above cite Küpper’s remarks on the ms. of the ch. at hand; May 17, July 2 and 5, 2020; generally, cf. “Performanz” 5–6).

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6.7 Cynical Rhetoric and Contingency I am a citizen of somewhere else. —Hawthorne (43, ‘The Custom-House’)

In concluding the present chapter overall, some concisely synoptic—albeit provisional—remarks may seem meet. Celestina appears to be a downright paradigmatic source for describing cynical statements. Throughout, one is facing a—consummately refined—rhetorical tour de force. This includes elaborate references, allusions to highly evolved discourses: medical, juridical, moral theological, philosophical, and so forth. At once, it articulates immoralities of various hues or degrees passim: as per the values of the time; and, at least in part, also according to a current (Western) appraisal.319 Celestina ‘stages’ a world of ‘radical, naked chance’; plus diverse human responses to this ‘chaotized’ state of affairs.320 In said play, cynicism—especially qua statement—is one such rejoinder. It deals with prior attempts at managing, ‘distancing’ contingency—specifically by flouting them. Simultaneously, the former could effect a temporary, tentative ‘relief’ from the latter’s ‘absolutism’.321 In various takes, this drama addresses the timeless question of the conditio humana. Yet such does not translate into a facile dualism.322 Not a comedy, it is a tragedy neither.323 Cynicism—qua stance, statement—is intimately linked to the world at hand; to ‘what it means to be human’; to all this may yield or entail.

|| 319 This continuity being due to the endurance of several foundational discourses in presentday ethics; cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (“Modern Reception” 365). As to an affine description of literature, see Küpper (“Was ist Literatur?” 194; 214–215); spec. “Die in den literarischen Diskurs eingehenden extra-literarischen Diskurse haben dort, eben weil dieser kein […] Spezialistendiskurs ist, den Status von zitierten, besser: von inszenierten Diskursen” (“Was ist Literatur?” 205n.); with particular emph. on the ‘mise en scène’, here. 320 Generally, cf. Blumenberg (Legitimität 181; Arbeit 681); with Küpper, for the drama at hand (“Ordnung” 173n.–174n.); spec. “Celestina als Drama einer in ‘radikale Kontingenz’ […] gestellten Welt” (“Ordnung” 173n.–174n.; with 179). For the resp. references, see also subch. 6.5, herein. Similarly, Kilian observes “the failure of reason in the face of the disorder and contingency of the world and of human nature” (21; also 25). 321 Cf. Blumenberg (Arbeit 9); with Marquard (“Entlastung [1998]” xix); and Küpper: “Das Kontingente ist Epiphanie des ‘Absolutismus der Wirklichkeit’” (“Ordnung” 181, plus 181n.). In an affine context, the scholar submits the formula of a “Bewältigung durch Ästhetisierung”: ‘coping with something by means of aestheticization’ (“Ordnung” 209). 322 Pace Severin, “la condición humana” (“Intro.” 43) does not come down to comedy and tragedy exclusively; nor to any other dichotomy (ever being trite). 323 As Küpper demonstrates (“Ordnung” 201–204, 204n.); see subch. 6.5, herein.

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As a result, the phenomenon at issue focuses on the tempo-corporeal. It accentuates the ‘as is’—not a ‘to be’; no ‘should’ or ‘shalt not’; to say nothing of a beyond. Along said lines, cynicism flouts such discourses as try—naturally in vain—to spirit away the physical, the self-interested, the affirmative by negating or sublimating (never mind ‘sublating’) the latter. One is facing a variant of that Socratic turn indeed, albeit with a downright immoral difference: ‘what is not us—is naught to us’.324 Insofar as the defied discourses—whether theologico-philosophical, politico-moral, or else—are still officially in use, the respective bearing and utterances will be perceived as cynical. This is the effect of the drama—christened Celestina—as a whole. The present study accentuates the transcultural qualities of said play. It decidedly gainsays ideologico-provincialist construals such as the ensuing: Although it is no longer fashionable to speak of national characteristics in reference to art, it seems to me that Celestina, with its sarcasm, sacrilegiousness, crudeness, unmitigated mocking of humanity, and disregard for generic conventions could not be but Spanish. (Echevarría xxvi–xxvii)325

On the contrary—and unreservedly: “che è opera di umanità” (Croce cited in: Brancaforte 119n., with 119).326 Cynicism is a human phenomenon. Affinities and variants may be traced at different times, in sundry literatures. Withal (and not in vain), it was Diogenes himself, who coined the (then exceptional) term ‘cosmopolitan’—and precisely as a retort to misguided parochialisms.327

|| 324 Cf. Lactantius (416, III.xx, 415n.–416n.); with Blumenberg (Legitimität 276n.; 283; 354n.). For further references in this respect, see subch. 11.1.1, herein. 325 Echevarría’s intro. teems with value judgments; submits an anachronistic updating; is eclectic and syncretistic, with Ideology Critique rampant passim (cf. xix; xx; xxiii–xxv); besides being highly speculative (xxv–xxvi) at the end. The issue is even more pronounced in Gilman’s indefensible declaration: “Rojas, for all his desperate and ironical cynicism […], was radically Spanish” (Art 87; cf. “Rebirth” 304); the context is utterly problematic. 326 In hommage to a seminal work on rhetoric (Sloane Contrary passim); see ch. 8, herein. 327 “Asked where he came from, he [sc. ‘Diogenes’] said, ‘I am a citizen of the world [‘κοσμοπολίτης’, sc. a ‘cosmopolitan’]’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 64–65, VI.63).

7 Brutal Latencies. On the Crafting of Political Union (Machiavelli’s Mandragola, Shakespeare’s Lucrece) and the desire of liberty is implanted by Nature in the minds of all men[.] —Dionysius of Halicarnassus (521, IV.lxxxiii.2)1 Wir wünschen die große Krise zum Teufel. Aber wir haben noch nichts getan, um sie entbehren zu können. —‘Axel Colly’ (sc. Blumenberg “Feuilletons” 38)2

While usually fluctuating unpredictably, varying inadvertently, shifting all of a sudden—and, not infrequently, beginning or ending accidentally—human life is also not beyond a more designful malleability. The fact that, under certain circumstances, it could be altered deliberately involves a twofold contingency: matter being pliable, it may be modified; and a distinct class of self-professedly rational animals seems to share a peculiar condition, making it prone to believe in freedom of choice or will.3 Any member of said species is basically capacitated to perceive, as well as communicate, the elseness of things, whether in semblance or actuality. For experience cannot but yield both: natural change, cyclical constancy; cultural transformations, elemental stabilities—and either with exceptions even so. Absolute chaos is inconceivable to a human mind (if it were, it would no longer be). The case of discrete chances differs. Not only do deviations from a presumed regularity tend to incite curiosity—precisely by way of their apparent novelty. Besides taking advantage of whatever Fortune happens to be pitching, it would also seem possible to produce contingencies in the first place.4 Facts being made, most things may be otherwise(d), or not at all—including the latter. || 1 With context: “καὶ ἔμφυτος ἅπασιν ἀνθρώποις ὁ τῆς ἐλευθερίας πόθος, καὶ πᾶσα μεταβολῆς πρόφασις τοῖς δι’ ἀνάγκην ταλαιπωροῦσιν ἱκανή” (520, IV.lxxxiii.2). 2 “We wish [to say: may] the great crisis [go] to hell [literally: the devil]. Yet we still have not done aught to render it dispensable” (trans. dsm); the last line in: “Die Krise ist unentbehrlich” (“Feuilletons” 36–38; here: 36), prudently published under a nom de plume on Oct 17, 1953; Feb 2, 1954; and posthumously. Cf. Schmitz/Stiegler (“Feuilletonist” 10–12, spec. 12; 16–18). 3 Counting their being at liberty to (assertively) deny the same. See Blumenberg: “Man kann glauben zu beherrschen, wovon man beherrscht wird” (Höhlen. 62). Cf. ch. 13, herein. 4 Caesar’s case (“Prolapsus […] verso ad melius”, Suetonius 112, I.lix) might be compared with Brutus’ (“perinde atque casu prolapsus, de industria se abiecit”, Valerius Maximus Memorable. VI–IX. 128, VII.iii.2; in Cassius Dio: “ὡς καὶ καταπεσὼν ἄλλως”, 82, II.11.12; with Zonaras 7.11: “ὡς τυχαίως καταπεσὼν”; Livy: “velut si prolapsus cecidisset”, Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 196, I.lvi.12; https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-007

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Contrary to common say-so, semblances are not simply (let alone always) deceiving. On occasion, they might be hiding the vital insight in plain view. Perchance, the ostensively innocuous praxis of ‘diligent negligence’ is but a ‘blithe surface’—fronting for more serious or severe latencies in like approaches to other matters.5 An art of the accidental seems conceivable (3.6, 4.3, herein). The effectuality characterizing a certain kind of refinement lies in its tacitly abstaining from the same. Contexts being contingent, stark nonchalance could appear eloquent (to say nothing of an austere elegance). At times, even brutality outright both is—and simultaneously is not—what it seems.6 Seeing as the egregious is more likely to leave a lasting impression indeed, a decided cultivation of the casual would stand to reason—at least in animals of a respective capacity.7 Some (wo)men are the makers not only of their own chances; but also of (the fortune of) their empires.8 Exceptions may not be the rule—but they do; in the more prudent cases, predominantly ‘over minds’.9 || paralleling Lucretia’s deliberately induced ‘fall’, “prolapsaque in vulnus moribunda cecidit”, 202, I.lviii.11). See Gracián (Arte de ingenio 217, XVI; 303–304, XXXI; Agudeza I. 194, XVII; spec. Agudeza II. 434–435, XXXVIII); Machiavelli (Discourses 213, III.2); Strauss (Thoughts 219–220), cited at the onset of ch. 8. Generally, cf. Sommer (“Zufall” 99); Mayfield (Artful 92; 103n.; 107; 120; 124–125; 140; 145n.; 146; 155–156; 165n.; 173; 184; 196n.). Not incidentally, the ‘accidental’ presence of Lucius Junius is noted by Livy (“forte”, Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 202, I.lviii.6), Dionysius of Halicarnassus (“κατὰ δαίμονα”, 480, IV.lxvii.4; resonating structurally with the preceding “τὰ συμβεβηκότα φράσων”, IV.lxvii.3; with the ensuing “ἔτυχεν”, IV.lxvii.4). 5 On “neglegentia […] diligens”, see Cicero (“Orator [1962]” 362, xxiii.78); on “sprezzatura”, Castiglione (59, I.xxvi; “Disinvolta noncuranza”, 59n.; with Mayfield Ventriloquism 127–128, 127n.–128n.). See Küpper’s formulation (in a Machiavellian context): “zu sagen, was sich hinter der heiteren Gelassenheit […] verbirgt” (“Ordnung” 210; infinitized). Cf. subchs. 4.4, 11.3.4. 6 Cf. Plutarch (“Publicola” 506–507, III.1; with 508–511, III.4); spec. “οὐδέτερον δὲ μικρὸν οὐδ’ ἀνθρώπινον, ἀλλ’ ἢ θεῖον ἢ θηριῶδες” (“Publicola” 516, VI.4; with Aristotle Pol. 12–13, 1253a, I.i.12). Cf. subchs. 6.1, 7.2, 13.5. Plus this legend: “Apollo [i.e. the Delphic Oracle] declared that he [sc. Tarquinius Superbus] should be driven from his domain only when a dog should use human speech [‘ὅτε κύων ἀνθρωπίνῃ φωνῇ χρήσαιτο’]” (Zonaras 7.11, in: Cassius Dio 78–79, II.11.10). At all events, “feigned idiocy” and brute “severity” (Matthes 65) work hand in glove. 7 See Dionysius of Halicarnassus: “οὐ λόγων ἔφη δεῖν οὐδ’ ὑποσχέσεων, ἀλλ’ ἔργων, εἴ τι τῶν δεόντων μέλλει γενήσεσθαι” (486, IV.lxx.4; cf. “λέγειν […] ὀλίγα […] πράττειν […] πολλά”, 506, IV.lxxviii.2)—with emph. on the “ἔφη”; and the fact that what follows are a series of speeches precisely (see 488–491, IV.lxxi.1–6; 494–501, IV.lxxiii.1–lxxv.4; 505–525, IV.lxxvii.1–lxxxiv.3). 8 Alluding to a dictum attributed to “Appius Claudius Caecus”: “fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae” (in: Ps.-Sallust 444, I.2; plus 444n.; and Bacon “Essayes” 105, §40, ‘Of Fortune’). Cf. Plautus: “sapiens […] ipsus fingit fortunam sibi” (“Trinummus” 132, II.ii.363; with Livy Ab Urbe Con. XXXVIII–XXXIX. 348, XXXIX.xl.4). See also the extended n. in subch. 11.1, herein. 9 Cf. Blumenberg (Höhlen. 35; 37; “Staatstheorie” 132); subchs. 7.2.2, 13.5. “Unable to change their dispositions, Machiavelli […] strives for influence over men’s imaginations” (Matthes 79).

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7.1 Dramatico-Rhetorical Takes on the Tale of Lucretia— and Brutus Not everything that can be discovered can be discovered [or: detected] at all times. —Blumenberg (Arbeit 578; trans. dsm)10

Preparing the readings of certain Early Modern reworkings in 7.2, subchapter 7.1.2 will tender the narrative frame for Lucretia’s Ancient case. Prior, some provisional remarks on the method of mythical hypolépseis might seem meet.

7.1.1 Refunctionalization: Blumenberg’s Concept of ‘Working on Myths’ wir besitzen keine andere Wirklichkeit, als die von uns ausgelegte. —Blumenberg (Arbeit 72)11

Donaldson opens his work on the diachronic ‘transformations’ of what he expressly calls “a myth” (v; 6, 8; and see his title) with the following words: The story of the rape of Lucretia is one of the most familiar of all stories from the ancient world. It tells of events […] leading to […] the establishment of the Roman Republic. To the Romans, it was a story of great political and moral importance, which helped to keep alive certain crucial ideas about […] personal and political liberty. In later times, the story became widely celebrated throughout Europe, forming the subject of many poems, tragedies, romances, novels, operas, and paintings. (v)

The critic adds that he refers to “this story” as “a myth […] to indicate […] its capacity to endure and to adapt to changing social contexts”; and so as to signal “the ways in which, over many centuries, it has been interpreted, criticized, elaborated, and transformed” (v)—“according to” the specific “preoccupations and assumptions” of the receiving time (vi). By recourse to Blumenberg’s methodical taxonomy, one may take this as downright exemplary for ongoing processes of ‘rhetorical refunctionalization’ (‘Umbesetzung’) and ‘work(ing) on myths’ (‘Arbeit am Mythos’).12 Conditioned by || 10 “Nicht alles, was entdeckt werden kann, kann jederzeit entdeckt werden”. 11 “we have no other factuality than the one interpreted by ourselves” (trans. dsm). 12 Cf. the n. below. See his takes on the former (“Umbesetzung der vakanten Position”, Legitimität 52; plus 57–58; 60; 70–71; 74–75; 79; 87–88; 98–99; 119; 127; 257; 406; passim). “Der Gedanke der ‘Umbesetzung’ erklärt nicht, woher das neu eingesetzte Element stammt, nur welche Weihen es empfängt” (Legitimität 60). “Es ist vor allem eine Ausdruckswelt, die sich durchhält. […]. Die Umbesetzung von Systemfunktionen im Prozeß des Epochenwandels

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contingent settings and deliberate acts of human artfulness alike, said modes yield insights into the time ‘hypoleptically’ recycling, ‘renovating’, the—always already wrought—flotsam as arrives at the shores of a respective present.13 In view of countless diachronic uptakes of—and manifold variations on— Lucretia’s story, Küpper’s concept of ‘(virtual) cultural networks’ will be most expedient for describing the tale’s patent floatation in basic, elaborated forms.14 As the arrangement of Donaldson’s monograph might also entail (see ix), the narrative in question is not only about the Roman matron—whose name and || bedingt die sprachliche Konstanz in vielfältiger Weise” (Legitimität 87–88; cf. Beiträge 22). “Was dieser Satz bedeutet [‘Daß der Mensch die Geschichte ‘macht’’], kann nur verstanden werden, wenn man die ‘Umbesetzung’ wahrnimmt, die mit ihm vollzogen wird. Ich habe diesen Begriff […] 1966 […] eingeführt […], aber noch nicht gesehen, daß er einen theoretischen Vorgang impliziert. […] wer das handelnde Subjekt der Geschichte ist, wird nicht entdeckt oder bewiesen; […] [es] wird ‘ernannt’. Im System der Wirklichkeitserklärung unserer Tradition gibt es eine ‘Stelle’ […], auf die Vakanz und Besetzung sich beziehen. Durchsetzung und Bestätigung der Umbesetzung sind rhetorische Akte […]. Nicht zufällig hat d[ies]er Akt […] den Namen einer fundierenden rhetorischen Figur getragen als translatio imperii. ‘Übertragungen’, metaphorische Funktionen spielen hier immer wieder eine wesentliche Rolle” (“Annäher. [2001]” 426).“Umbesetzungen […] sind nur vollziehbar oder nachweisbar, sofern Besetzungen stehenbleiben. Eine totale Umbesetzung ist ein Traum; wir würden nie erfahren, wenn sie vollzogen wäre” (Quellen 160). “Die ‘Umbesetzungen’, aus denen Geschichte besteht, werden rhetorisch vollzogen” (“Annäher. [2001]” 420). For applications, and on the structuring import of the process, see Blumenberg (Höhlen. 183–299; “Gegenbesetzungen”: 301–411; spec. 303– 304); and Marquard: “die Geschichte ist ein haushälterisches System von Stellen, in welche Antworten oder andere vitale Arrangements als Funktionsträger eintreten, die bei[m] […] Verschwinden Vakanzen und Wiederbesetzungspflichten hinterlassen, deren Erfüllung[—]da fast alles mit allem zusammenhängt[—]Konsequenzprobleme nach sich zieht: so ist alles in offener Bewegung. […] Dieses[—]mit der Metaphorik des Personalhaushalts operierende[—] Umbesetzungsmodell der Geschichte schärft den Blick für historische Folgelasten” (“Entlastung [1998]” xxii). Cf. Kablitz (Neuzeit 35–40); and subchs. 4.4, 6.5, 11.1.1, 11.2.2, herein. 13 See Blumenberg: “der kraft seiner Rezeptionen variierte und transformierte Mythos [‘ist’] in seinen geschichtlich bezogenen und bezugskräftigen Gestaltungen schon deshalb der Thematisierung würdig, weil diese die geschichtlichen Lagen und Bedürfnisse mit hereinzieht, die vom Mythos affiziert und an ihm zu ‘arbeiten’ disponiert waren” (Arbeit 192; as to the concluding metaphor: “Sokrates [1964]” passim; especially 300–302; 305–307; 315; “Sokrates [2001]” passim; 89–90; 93–95; 103–104). On the concept of ‘renovatio’, see Küpper (Discursive 13, 13n.; 15–16, 15n.; 17; 256n.; 262n.; 276–278, 278n.; 290; passim). Concerning the dynamics of ‘hypólepsis’—plus potential applications—cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim); and subch. 7.3. 14 On the theory of ‘(virtual) cultural networks’, see Küpper (“Hypotheses” 1; 4; passim, spec. 6–9; Cultural Net passim; “Rhetoric” passim; V; 2; with Mayfield “Proceedings” 220–222; “Interplay” 3–5; 9–10; 28; 36–38; “hypólepsis” passim; spec. 243, 255; Ventriloquism 11–12; 23– 24; 130; 135; 163; 165; 170; 174; 176n.; 180–181). Cf. subchs. 3.2, 3.6, 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 5.2.3, 6.6, 10.2, 11.3.4, 13.3.1, 13.5; passim in the present ch. (7); as well as throughout the overall work at hand.

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violation tend to function as meta-signifiers for most variants (as in said critic’s title).15 Above all, it is concerned with the protagonist to whom the focus shifts after she has left the scene—in a highly dramatic fashion. For methodical reasons, the present approach must plainly part ways with Donaldson’s work. Applying a historicist measure, he fails to read the plot in forensico-rhetorical (and poetico-structural) terms; while apparently relegating the tale’s dramatic implications to the background—despite their decisiveness.16 Most problematically, the critic chooses to cumulate and integrate (some of) the earliest surviving versions into a “reconstruct[ed]”, holistic story (see 3–5; here || 15 For a characteristic (and particularly pertinent) instance, see Valerius Maximus: “Dux Romanae pudicitiae Lucretia, cuius virilis animus maligno errore Fortunae muliebre corpus sortitus est” (Memorable. VI–IX. 2, VI.i.1; with Dionysius of Halicarnassus 516–517, IV.lxxxii.3). Cf. “Lucrece was a Roman hero familiar even to common folk […], whose name called up her story” (C. Kahn 259); the context is highly problematic. See also Allen (89). 16 For rhetorico-forensic and affine refunctionalizations, Cicero, Quintilian, and the Elder Seneca might be consulted. In the controversia entitled “RAPTOR DUARUM” (Controv. 1–6. 120– 135, 1.5.1–9, 57M–63M; here 120), the declaimer refers to the use of “Verginia” and “Lucretia” as counterexamples to “the Sabine women”, who “have greater numbers on their side” (Controv. 1–6. 125, 1.5.3, 58M); the latter “accepted marriage after their rape” (Controv. 1–6. 125n.). As per the law, “[a] girl who has been raped may choose[:] either marriage to her ravisher without a dowry[,] or his death”; the case at hand being that “[o]n a single night a man raped two girls. One demands his death, the other marriage” (Controv. 1–6. 121, 1.5, 57M). On this controversia, see Trimpi, above all (Muses 308; 314; 325; 331n.); also McNeely (199). In another, entitled “VERSUS VIRGINIS VESTALIS” (Controv. 1–6. 522–525, 6.8, 264M–265M; here 522), the prosecutor is cited as stating: “If you really want to praise marriage, tell the story of Lucretia, write about her death before swearing by your own” (Controv. 1–6. 523–525, 6.8, 264M). Once more, the Roman matron is used as an example par excellence; known to all, the very renown of her name might conduce to effectual persuasion. The case being that “[a] Vestal virgin wrote th[is] […] verse: ‘How happy married women are! O, may I die if marriage is not sweet [‘moriar nisi nubere dulce est’]’. She is accused of unchastity” (Controv. 1–6. 522–523, 6.8, 264M). Quintilian stresses: “if we are speaking of facing death, Cato and Scipio will be less persuasive [‘adferent momenti’, sc. ‘adduce weight’] than Lucretia” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 434–435, 5.11.10). He takes up a story floating in the virtual cultural networks of his day, and employs it as a case in point: being familiar, it is effectual. Cf. Russell’s gloss: “Her rape and death are dramatically related by Livy, 1.57–59” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 435n.)—with emph. on the adverb. The story as such is literally ‘dramatic’ (action is foremost): it gives itself to being staged. Even in a (quasi) historical narrative, it retains a dynamism characteristic of—as well as conducive to— performances. Arguing against the notion that only the explicit law will be authoritative, Cicero refers to Lucretia as a forensic precedent: “Even if there was no written law [‘scripta lex’] against rape at Rome in the reign of Lucius Tarquinius, we cannot say on that account that Sextus Tarquinius did not break that eternal Law by violating Lucretia” (“De Leg.” 382–383, II.iv.10). Consequently, the context concerns a problematic valuation of the legal scripta or verba (“litteris, quibus scita scribuntur”) for their own sake (“De Leg.” 382, II.v.11).

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3).17 Throughout, discursive contextualizations are but scant (if extant at all). Nor should his deriving a number of (implicit) value judgments from appraisals of fine art seem consistent with his own procedure.18 Rather than meshing renderings to the aforesaid end, attention to the basic structure will be requisite initially, precisely with a view to eliciting the (formal) conditions of possibility for a story’s various instances, sundry ‘reshapings’.19 As Blumenberg accentuates with particular pertinence to the context at hand: Scripturality […] produces contingency. […] The written form renders the variant referenceable [and relatable]. The […] new does not take the place of what it outperforms and [does not] make it disappear, but […] superimposes itself […]. Only by virtue of [a] persisting configuration is the transfiguration set free. (Arbeit 168; trans. dsm)20

The present approach follows the philosopher’s lead—here specifically in terms of an ongoing ‘reworking of myths’.21 Both of the aforementioned concepts—the || 17 Donaldson is “[r]unning the earliest versions freely together” to “reconstruct a story” (3). 18 There is recourse to Renaissance art especially—albeit combined with a static (if tacit) presupposition of ‘the’ truth. Needless to say, the factual impact of depictions on the minds of diachronic recipients conduces to an ongoing, as well as effectual reception. See DuncanJones/Woudhuysen: “pictorial images of both Venus and Lucrece played an important part […]. Both figures were widely visible in the everyday world of Shakespeare and his readers” (“Intro.” 34). “Lucretia, whose story had been told by both Chaucer and Gower, was a particularly popular subject for visual representation throughout Europe in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries” (“Intro.” 35). “By the end of the century[,] the image of Lucrece’s suicide was so familiar in London that Ben Jonson was able to give a character the line ‘he makes a face like a stab’d LVCRECE’” (“Intro.” 37). “Both of the mythic female protagonists of Shakespeare’s poems could be encountered in the writings of Sidney” (“Intro.” 40). Generally: “As the two poems are contrasted and complementary, so are their title figures” (“Intro.” 40). “The poems are complementary […] in their allusions to the art of painting” (“Intro.” 47). 19 Blumenberg formulates the framework for potential refunctionalizations: “Man sieht, wie der Grundmythos den Varianten ihren Spielraum vorzeichnet” (Arbeit 212). 20 With context: “Die Schriftlichkeit macht hier die Kontingenz. […] Die Schriftform macht die Variante bezugsfähig. Das jeweils Neue tritt nicht an die Stelle des von ihm Überbotenen und läßt dieses verschwinden, sondern legt sich nur darüber und schafft – die Literaturgeschichte. Zugleich mit ihr den Anreiz, an der Variante das Wagnis wahrnehmbar zu machen. Erst an der Konfiguration als fortbestehender wird die Transfiguration freigesetzt” (Arbeit 168). 21 Cf. “Leistung der Distanz durch ‘Arbeit am Mythos’” (Arbeit 15). “Dichter bei der Arbeit am Mythos” (Arbeit 69); “der Fortgang der Arbeit am Mythos” (Arbeit 303; see 424–425; 435; 503). “Metamorphosen ist kein bloßer Sammeltitel für Mythen, sondern das Ausformungsprinzip des Mythos selbst, die Grundform” (Arbeit 384; plus “Verformung”, 89; “Umformung” 90; 503; “die Disposition dieser Stoffe zu solcher Verformung”, 172). See variants, (theoretical) applications of ‘Umbesetzung’ (Arbeit 13; 25; 27; 34; 39; 48; 71; spec. 88; 92; 94–97; 122; 144; 218; 269; 275; 281; 320; 529; 546–547; 549; especially: “Umbesetzung jenes […] ‘Stellenplans’”, 546–547).

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dynamics of the latter, and the framework of ‘refunctionalization’—facilitate approaching a text’s transtemporal variants in an expedient manner. With good reason, Romanticist construals seeking ‘the original mythos’ are rejected outright.22 Rather, Blumenberg logs a laborious processuality in time: Myth[s] ha[ve] always already transitioned into reception, and [they] remain therein […]. If [they are] available to us only in [the] forms of [their] reception, there can be no privilege for certain versions qua original or final [ones]. (Arbeit 299; trans. dsm)23

Seeing as this is the factual state of affairs at any point in a temporal continuity, it is precisely the floatational presence of contingent variants as does provide the condition of possibility for tentatively eliciting the (general, formal, plotful) parts and factors of a virtual ‘basic mythos’ (“Grundmythos”, Arbeit 192).24 || 22 (“Urmythos”, Arbeit 192). With Blumenberg’s context: “der Radikalmythos muß nicht der Ausgangsmythos sein. […] Wenn sich von einem Grundmythos soll sprechen lassen können, ohne diesen als den Urmythos auszugeben, muß seine Kondensation und Befestigung ein diachroner Prozeß sein: eine Art Bewährung dessen, was an einem Mythologem sowohl zu seiner Identifizierung als auch zur Inanspruchnahme seiner Bildleistung nicht mehr entbehrt werden konnte. Je erfolgreicher die Solideszenz, um so strapazierfähiger ihr Resultat. Der Grundmythos ist nicht das Vorgegebene, sondern das am Ende sichtbar Bleibende, das den Rezeptionen und Erwartungen genügen konnte” (Arbeit 192). He wishes to avoid the nontemporality (“Preisgabe von ‘Wirkungsgeschichte’”)—the “inevitable Platonism”—implied in Lévi-Strauss’ Structuralist scheme, “defining a mythologem by the totality of its versions”; Blumenberg counsels to be “holding on to the concept and procedure [or: process, ‘Verfahren’] of the reception” (Arbeit 300; trans. dsm; cf. “Vorrang der temporalen Ordnungsform”, 301). 23 “Der Mythos ist immer schon in Rezeption übergegangen, und er bleibt in ihr […]. Wenn er nur in Gestalten seiner Rezeption uns vorliegt, gibt es kein Privileg bestimmter Fassungen als ursprünglicher oder endgültiger”. Blumenberg elaborates: “Daß die Rezeption nicht zum Mythos dazukommt und ihn anreichert, sondern Mythos uns in gar keiner anderen Verfassung als der, stets schon im Rezeptionsverfahren befindlich zu sein, überliefert und bekannt ist, beruht trotz der ikonischen Konstanz auf der Verformbarkeit seiner Elemente” (Arbeit 240); “alles, was wir kennen, [‘ist’] schon in die Rezeption eingegangener Mythos […]. Die Arbeit des Mythos muß man schon im Rücken haben, um der Arbeit am Mythos nachzugehen” (Arbeit 294); “vielmehr wird er als immer schon in Rezeption übergegangen verstanden” (“Wirkungspotential [2001]” 350); “daß Mythologie immer nur als ‘in Rezeption übergegangen’ angetroffen wird” (“Wirkungspotential [2001]” 382). Glossing the above, Waszynski pertinently observes “dass der Mythos nur im Geflecht seiner Umarbeitungsgeschichte besteht” (“Dilemma” 96; with 98). See Kablitz: “‘Wiederkehr’ kann stets nur Rezeption sein, Rezeption aber bedeutet unweigerlich An-Verwandlung” (“‘Skeptizismus’” 505). 24 Cf. “auch die Mythologie seiner Entstehung [sc. des ‘Mythos’] [‘ist’] ein Reagens auf eine Form der Arbeit an ihm” (Arbeit 69). Blumenberg refers to a “Kernbestand[…]”, “ikonische[r] Konstanz”, “hochgradige[r] Haltbarkeit”: “Das Mythologem ist ein ritualisierter Textbestand. Sein konsolidierter Kern widersetzt sich der Abwandlung” (Arbeit 165)—for the most part.

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Like all matter(s), said elements cannot be secure or free from an applied contingency. Then again, they may appear subject to a qualified, more relative otherwiseness: while a “poet” will inevitably be “inventive”—“making good use of” what has been handed down—it is usually not plausible to “break up the transmitted stories” altogether (Aristotle “Poetics” 75, 1453b, XIV).25 Even in the case of (very) drastic refunctionalizations, certain traces tend to remain—lest the expedient effect of a perceived familiarity be lost. In order to be operative as such, difference requires a degree of similarity.26

7.1.2 The Narrative Grid: Enabling Diachronic Reworkings Brutus overthrew the Tarquins, taking as his justification the fate [‘συμβεβηκὸς’, sc. ‘accident’] of Lucretia[.] —Cassius Dio (as per Zonaras 7.11, at 83, II.11.13)

Embracing Blumenbergian hermeneutics and Aristotelian poetics, a rhetorical approach to literature will ever be needful. First, a respective analysis attempts to elicit the elemental—here decidedly dramatic—plot: “the poet should lay out the general structure, and only then develop the sequence of episodes” (meaning, “θεωρεῖσθαι τὸ καθόλου”, Aristotle “Poetics” 88–89, 1455a–b, §17).27

|| 25 “τοὺς μὴν οὖν παρειλημμένους μύθους λύειν οὐκ ἔστιν […] αὐτὸν δὲ εὑρίσκειν δεῖ καὶ τοῖς παραδεδομένοις χρῆσθαι καλῶς” (“Poetics” 74, 1453b, XIV). See Mayfield (Ventriloquism 175– 176, 175n.–176n.). Attentive to their purpose of pleasing—delighting, moving (even ‘teaching’, cum grano salis)—orators and poets will tend to proceed inductively, hypoleptically, using a basis of familiarity for effects of apparent ‘novelty’. Cf. Blumenberg: “Mythen sind Geschichten von hochgradiger Beständigkeit ihres narrativen Kerns und ebenso ausgeprägter marginaler Variationsfähigkeit. Diese beiden Eigenschaften machen Mythen traditionsgängig: ihre Beständigkeit ergibt den Reiz, sie auch in bildnerischer oder ritueller Darstellung wiederzuerkennen, ihre Veränderbarkeit den Reiz der Erprobung neuer und eigener Mittel der Darbietung. Es ist das Verhältnis, das aus der Musik unter dem Titel ‘Thema mit Variationen’ in seiner Attraktivität für Komponisten wie Hörer bekannt ist” (Arbeit 40).“Die mythische Figur erweist ihre Evidenz in der Wiederholung. Die[se] […] steht zwischen Ritual und Parodie” (Arbeit 461); “eine Grundform des Mythos[:] […] Wiederholung des Gleichen” (Arbeit 559). 26 See spec. the reading of Machiavelli’s Mandragola in subch. 7.2.3, herein. 27 Trimpi stresses: a “writer […] analyzes his experience by working ‘backwards’ or ‘upwards’ to the necessary premises of the dramatic hypothesis—that is, to the essential minimum of characters and events without which the action could not begin and evolve as he wishes it to do. (Such hypothetical outlines can subsequently be used again)” (Muses 45). “The location of a general issue in ‘time and quality’, that is, in circumstance, is similar to the process of fictional construction” (“Ancient” 24; with Muses 32). Generally, see subch. 4.3, herein.

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This rudimentary grid is likely to be present in virtually all versions of the tale.28 Qua ‘hypó-thesis’, it ‘underprops’ the various elaborations.29 Tentatively, the most basic givens pertaining to the mythos at issue may be described as follows. A people is ruled by some autocrat. The latter’s son violates a lady. In the presence of several witnesses, she relates the offense, and commits suicide. Only one of the men—who is generally thought to be brainless—is able to take advantage of the situation, moving the general public to action with oratorical skill. The ruling family is expelled, autocracy replaced by a more democratic form of government, specifically a republic.30 Such might be one tentative rendering of the tale’s elemental level.31 In Blumenbergian terms, this could provide the given framework of positions that may meet with diachronic refunctionalizations (which include marked ellipses). From a rhetorico-poetic perspective, it is not only the different variants as are floating in ‘(virtual) cultural networks’; but the basic plot is simultaneously being carried along, diversely ‘taken up and tied in with’.32 When elaborating (on) the myth in relative accord with certain well-known versions, further causalities and generalized details might be added.33

|| 28 Cf. Trimpi: “If the dramatic hypothesis contains latent within it all the potential action of the completed play, the actualization […] in episode and dialogue in accord with probability or necessity may be said to express the literary thesis of the [resp.] author” (Muses 68; plus 76). 29 See Trimpi’s indispensable elucidation (Muses 25–34; spec. 25–26, 26n.; 52; with the précis at 75–77; generally: 45; 50–58—on Aristotle, 50n., 54; and 307). Cf. “For drama, composition ‘begins’ with the given sequence of events […]; for rhetoric, investigation ‘begins’ with the particular given circumstances” (Muses 27). As to the taxonomy: “‘hypothesis’, whose Latin form is suppositio (sub + ponere), means a ‘placing under’, and, by extension, ‘what one has placed under’, or a ‘subtending’” (Muses 25; with “Ancient” 27n.). 30 Cf. Blumenberg’s affine remarks on a “Zuendebringen von etwas als das, was nicht mehr sein soll” (Arbeit 141–142; with 166). For ‘nominalist’ hints, see this abysmal comment put into the mouth of Brutus (Dionysius of Halicarnassus 494–495, IV.lxxiii.3; cf. 498–499, IV.lxxiv.4). 31 With respect to eliciting a basic grid, the above is but an essai. It would—very probably—be possible to reduce the core elements even further. Such is delegated to a virtuoso poet. 32 The underlying hypóthesis, rhetorically speaking; in Aristotelian terms: “the plot is the mimesis of the action [‘πράξεως’]—for I use ‘plot [‘μῦθον’]’ to denote the construction of events [‘τὴν σύνθεσιν τῶν πραγμάτων’]” (“Poetics” 48–49, 1450a, VI). 33 The ensuing has recourse mainly to Livy’s notable rendering (Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 194–209, I.lvi.4–lx.4; and 212–215; spec. 194, I.lvi.7–8; 202, I.lviii.6–10; 204, I.lix.1–2; 206, I.lix.8). Other Latin and Greek versions might be consulted for comparison, contrast: Ovid (Fasti 107–119, II.685–856, VI.Kal.24; here spec. 108, v.717; 110, v.734; 116, v.837; 118, v.844); Dionysius of Halicarnassus (470–527, IV.lxiii.1–lxxxv.4; spec. 472–475, IV.lxiv.4; 480–481, IV.lxvii.3–4; 484–489, IV.lxx.1–5); Cassius Dio (78–91, II.11.10–20); Plutarch (very concisely, with differing accents: “Publicola” 502–505, I.3–5); Valerius Maximus (briefly, Memorable. VI–IX. 2–3, VI.i.1);

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The overall context is a people ruled by a despotic king; more particularly, a state of war—the immediately relevant circumstances being soldiers telling stories. The boasting involved implicates households and families—especially their spouses. Upon actually examining who is the most virtuous, one of the wives is found to outshine the rest by far, whereby she becomes the center of (dramatic) attention—both extra- and intratextually. The latter applies to all of the soldiers involved, and specifically said king’s son, who visits the lady’s house on apparently friendly terms, enters her chamber at night, threatens, violates, and leaves her (alive). On the morrow, she calls for her kinsmen, relates the events, and spectacularly stabs herself to death in the presence of witnesses.34 While all are horrified, only one among them grasps, and takes advantage of, this critical situation; his intervention is especially effectual, in that everybody had believed him to be intellectually (and socially) deficient— until said point.35 Eloquently, he rallies the people, calling on them to expel the king and consorts.36 A republican form of government replaces past tyranny.37 In dramatico-rhetorically elaborating this basic plot, the (proper) names have been left out, so far. Said process adheres to Aristotle, who states that a mythos is to be outlined in very general terms prior to attaching the details

|| also Augustine (de civ. Dei I–III. 82–91, I.xix). Certain aspects of Livian, Ovidian, Augustinian versions are considered in relation to the Machiavellian and Shakespearean texts treated in subch. 7.2. Close, decidedly rhetorical readings (incl. discourse historical contextualizations) of all related Ancient texts will be a general desideratum. Such would exceed the particular limits of the ch. at hand—whose focus is on (two) Early Modern renditions. 34 This catalytic event—probably present in most any refunctionalization—is itself a decidedly dramatic scene within the tale. See the version in Dionysius of Halicarnassus—where Lucretia downright prepares her own stage (478–479, IV.lxvi.3–lxvii.1–2). The lady’s ‘awe-ful’ theatrics are matched by the awe-inspiring ones on the part of a prudently camouflaged politician, who instantly perceives the potentials—and eloquently takes advantage—of the situation. 35 Valerius Maximus has: “obtunsi se cordis esse simulavit, eaque fallacia maximas virtutes suas texit” (Memorable. VI–IX. 128, VII.iii.2). Likewise in Dionysius of Halicarnassus (482–483, IV.xlviii.2–xlix.1). Cf. this notorious Attic case (as related by Cicero): “Especially crafty and shrewd [‘versutum et callidum’] was the device of Solon, who, to make his own life safer and at the same time to do a considerably larger service to his country, feigned insanity [‘furere se simulavit’]” (De Off. 110–111, I.xxx.108). Thereto, see also Plutarch (“Solon” 420–423, VIII.1–3). 36 This factor finds elaboration in Dionysius of Halicarnassus—choosing to give exceptional prominence to the (spec. deliberative) oratory on the part of Brutus (cf. e.g. 488–491, IV.lxxi.1– 6; 494–501, IV.lxxiii.1–lxxv.4; 505–525, IV.lxxvii.1–lxxxiv.3). 37 Suitably, Valerius Maximus states of Lucretia: “causam[…] tam animoso interitu imperium consulare pro regio permutandi populo Romano praebuit” (Memorable. VI–IX. 2, VI.i.1). Plutarch’s tendency differs: “The people […] found occasion for revolt in the fate of Lucretia […]. Lucius Brutus, engaging in the revolution”, etc. (“Publicola” 503, I.3).

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(comprising the protagonists): action is what matters.38 When adding socioculturally, historically conditioned designations, one would give preference to those everyone knows (see “Poetics” 57–61, 1451b, IX). In the present case: Tarquinius Superbus is the autocratic ruler; his son Sextus violates Lucretia, who commits suicide in the presence of witnesses (which usually include her husband Collatinus). At the critical or turning point (peripéteia), Lucius Junius—dubbed ‘Brutus’, to indicate his idiocy in the eyes of tyrants, people, patricians—shocks and awes everyone by suddenly removing the mask of density he had been wearing for many years.39 With rhetorical efficacy, he moves the Latin people to action—which leads to the expulsion of the Tarquins, and the establishment of the Roman Republic.40 A foundational myth for the (later) imperium also, it remains available for adaptive—particularly pan-European, Occidental—refunctionalizations.41

|| 38 Cf. “tragedy is mimesis of an action” (“Poetics” 49, 1449b, VI); “tragedy is mimesis not of persons[,] but of action and life; […] characters are included for the sake of their actions. […] the events [‘πράγματα’] and the plot [‘μῦθος’] are the goal [‘τέλος’] of tragedy, and the goal is the most important thing of all” (“Poetics” 50–51, 1450a, VI); “it is the process which includes the end that is an action” (Met. 1–9. 449, 1048b, IX.vi.7). “Plot […] is the first principle [….] of tragedy, while character is secondary. […] Tragedy is mimesis of action, and it is chiefly for the sake of the action that it represents the agents” (“Poetics” 53, 1450a–b, VI); the poet’s “mimesis is of actions [‘πράξεις’]” (“Poetics” 60–61, 1451b, IX). “A plot is not unified, as some think, if built round an individual. Any entity has innumerable features, not all of which cohere into a unity; likewise, an individual performs many actions which yield no unitary action” (“Poetics” 57, 1451a, VIII)—incidentally refuting Descartes avant la lettre. As to Aristotle in the above sense, cf. Trimpi (“Ancient” 44, 44n.–45n.; 52); Schaeffer (Why Fiction? 37–38). 39 See Livy: “stupentibus miraculo rei, unde novum in Bruti pectore ingenium” (Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 202, I.lix.2; plus 206, I.lix.8). Memorably, Ovid: “The prudent Brutus feigned to be a fool [‘Brutus erat stulti sapiens imitator’]” (Fasti 108, II.717). Cf. Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 23–24; “Pharmacy [1990]” 53–54): “Lucretia provides Brutus […] with the perfect opportunity for his sudden and dramatic self-manifestation as liberator” (“Pharmacy [1983]” 24; see 27; “Pharmacy [1990]” 54; 57); her “suicide provides the perfect opportunity for the ‘stupefied’ Brutus to become miraculously wise and purposeful” (“Pharmacy [1983]” 41; “Pharmacy [1990]” 71). 40 Later, ongoing effects of the expulsion: “Brutus deposed his colleague Collatinus from the consular office […][;] the leading men […] had determined that all the kindred of Superbus and the very name of the Tarquins and every reminder of the monarchy should be obliterated” (Cicero De Off. 309, III.x.40). The tag given to Lucius Junius with insulting intent saves him from being implicated; this ruse may suggest a literary rendition (or its proceeding from one). 41 Cicero mentions Lucretia and Brutus in a context on ‘forms of government’, while showing a penchant for such as are (quasi) equipoised; here argued ex negativo: “there was no balance among them [sc. ‘the royal, aristocratic, and democratic elements’] whatever [‘ut temperata nullo fuerint modo’]” (“De Re Pub.” 152–153, II.xxiii.42). At the onset of his ch. (whose current condition is fragmented), Cicero logs that “the best constitution for a State […] is a balanced

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Précising the methodical sections of this overall chapter will be convenient at this point. As to the general enabling structures for the tale’s transformations and ‘renovations’, Küpper’s conception of ‘(virtual) cultural networks’ proves expedient with a view to limning the conditions of possibility for such processes of floatation; as well as for diachronic uptakes, select variations (hypólepseis). Regarding specific cases, an application of Blumenberg’s theory may seem suitable, whereby one outlines a provisional framework of positions or roles, underlying sundry of the ongoing reworkings of the myth.42 An Aristotelian, poetico-rhetorical approach to the litterae will proceed from such a basic grid, tentatively adding successive layers, details—thereby to narrativize, dramatize one of the countless possible variants pertaining to a hypothetical ‘core’ story.43

|| [‘modice’] combination of the three forms mentioned[:] kingship, aristocracy, and democracy [‘regali et optumati et populari’]” (“De Re Pub.” 150–151, II.xxiii.41). In particular, the orator treats kingship and its frequent degeneration into tyranny: “this form of government [‘forma civitatis’] is the most liable of all to change [‘mutabilis maxime est’], because one man’s vices can overthrow it and turn it easily toward utter destruction” (“De Re Pub.” 152–153, II.xxiii.43). Demonstrating the converse, the example of Brutus is pertinent at this point: not only can one man’s virtue overthrow a tyranny; but the latter might also build a more balanced form of government on its ruins—precisely the Roman Republic (see “De Re Pub.” 154–157, II.xxv.46). Cicero takes the matter to the general plane, before making the connection: it is distinctive of ‘civic prudence’ (“civilis prudentiae”) to read the signs of the times; to discern “what direction any commonwealth tends to take [‘quo quaeque res inclinet’]”; and then to either “hold it back [‘retinere’] or take measures to meet the change [‘ante possitis occurrere’]” (“De Re Pub.” 154– 155, II.xxv.45). The arch-orator then narrates the story at issue—with this arrangement, accent: “he [sc. Tarquinius Superbus] became swollen with pride [‘insolentia’] and was unable to control either his own conduct or the lustful desires [‘libidines’] of his family. Wherefore, when his […] son violated Lucretia, the daughter of Tricipitinus and wife of Collatinus, and this noble and virtuous woman inflicted the death penalty upon herself as a result of the outrage, Lucius Brutus, a man pre-eminent for wisdom and bravery [‘vir ingenio et virtute praestans’], freed his fellow-citizens from the unjust yoke of cruel servitude. And though Brutus was only a private citizen [‘privatus’], he sustained the whole burden of the government [‘totam rem publicam sustinuit’], and was the first in our State to demonstrate that no one is a mere private citizen when the liberty of his fellows needs protection [‘in conservanda civium libertate esse privatum neminem’]. On his initiative and under his leadership [‘auctore et principe’] the people, aroused not only by the bitter complaints, still fresh in their memories, of Lucretia’s father and kinsmen, but also by their own recollection of the pride [‘superbiae’] of Tarquinius and the many acts of injustice committed by him and his sons, banished the king himself, his children, and the whole race of the Tarquinii” (“De Re Pub.” 154–157, II.xxv.45–46). 42 Cf. “‘Umbesetzung’ [sc. quasi] identischer Systemstellen” (Blumenberg Arbeit 34). 43 There is an increasing “‘hypothesization’ or particularization in circumstance”: “After the names, the episodes are filled in, offering causes and establishing consistency with sequential connections, and as a result the action is ‘hypothesized’ still further” (Trimpi Muses 52).

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In so doing, it is possible to give the structural pattern; and to signal the ways in which myths might be elaborated further, refunctionalized diachronically.44 In line therewith, the ensuing will discuss two politico-dramatic variants in more detail. One may take these as given or starting points for bringing out, and tentatively advancing, the general planes contained, implied. Simultaneously, the (more) universal considerations elicited in this inductive manner highlight transtemporal potentials for further applications, to be briefly addressed in 7.3.

7.2 Early Modern Variants in Europe’s Cultural Networks the material circulating in cultural nets is not homogeneous[.] —Küpper (Cultural Net 14)

Machiavelli’s cunning comedy Mandragola (1518), and Shakespeare’s decidedly dramatic Lucrece (1594), are ultimately based on, or else allude to, the same foundational narrative: the paradigmatic crafting of a Republic at a most critical moment—initially with respect to Roman history. In Europe and the Western world more generally, said effect—for which the tale is provided as a (plausible) cause—proved a turning point for times to come. Consequently, it is not only the factual, power political events—related to the expansion of the later imperium—as had a profound impact on the continent and beyond. The story told of its beginnings may also be seen or taken as being of conceptual import for Occidental cultures—to this day. As regards the two Early Modern refunctionalizations mentioned, an express and comparable recourse—in Southern and Northern Europe, at the onset and end of the sixteenth century, in otherwise or ostensively dissimilar circumstances—will hardly (appear to) be without certain implications.45 The Florentine consigliere and the London playwright are also staging a political and universal statement, the significance of which transcends the particular confines of their respective—theatrical, socio-cultural—settings.

|| 44 Cf. “Fundamental formal standards[,] […] observed in all European […] cultures[,] could be explained by considering the floating of the material on differing levels of formal organization, including abstract instructions of formulation: shaping […] need not start at the basic level […]. Relative difference with regard to form could be accounted for on the grounds of the possibility to impose any form on the material circulating in the net” (Küpper Cultural Net 21). 45 With regard to the European (and spec. Dutch) reception of the Lucretian matter, cf. also Sokolov (passim; referring to a “‘Lucretia fever’”, 74; on Machiavelli’s play, 79–80).

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7.2.1 Diachronic Uptakes and Variations in Times of Crisis (Remarks on Ovid, Augustine, Machiavelli, Shakespeare) the crisis of our time may have the accidental advantage of enabling us to understand[.] —Strauss (City 9; infinitized) ‘crisis’ […] signifies a crossroads, where a decision must be made. —Bouwsma (396)

With a view to varied adaptations, the story of Lucretia and Brutus may evince a tendency of being ‘taken up’ from the West’s (virtual) cultural networks at moments of (extreme) calamity, in states of ongoing emergency.46 It will suffice to proffer a few paradigmatic cases; and to use (discourse) historical parameters as general guard rails, indicating the overall setting.47 Although the Fasti were apparently commenced when the poet was still in Rome, there is intratextual (hence decisive) proof that Ovid continued to revise them in his exile—a time of severe personal crisis evidently.48 Structurally, the story of a king’s being banished for another’s (erotic) transgressions would appear to have been of particular topicality.49 Within the overall work, the

|| 46 Generally thereto, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 163–164). 47 While a strictly historicist approach is neither needful nor utile in the present respect, it will ever be relevant to indicate the general conditions, in order to warrant an equitable approach (the particular ones tending to be mostly inaccessible, anyway). The argument here, and in the ensuing, does not make biographistico-psychologizing claims. Such, and similarly speculative proclivities properly belong to theology—and its (tacit) derivatives: “Silete theologi in munere alieno” (Gentili 55, I.xii; the ch.’s concluding sentence; cf. Luther “De servo arb.” 261, WA 620, StA 194; Marquard Glück 80; Aesthetica 87). Silence would have spared mankind much agony. 48 While there is “no direct evidence as to the time when the work was begun”, it is certain “that during the later years of his exile [sc. after 8 CE] Ovid was engaged in the revision of the Fasti”—there being “veiled allusions to his exile” (Frazer “Intro.” xxiii). The topic of Feb 24— called “regis fuga” (resp. “Regifugium”), “the Flight of the King” (Fasti 106–107, II.685; 107n.; cf. Frazer “Appendix” 394–397)—would have been of spec. relevance (however this might be qualified). In the Fasti, Ovid treats a set of stories related to the expulsion of the Tarquins— hence incl. the narrative of Lucretia, Brutus—at considerable length (more than 170 lines: VI.Kal.24 Fasti 106–119, II.685–856; spec. 108–119, II.721–852; cf. Frazer “Appendix” 394–397). 49 The Ovidian reworking, dispositio, seems to give (Tarquinius) Collatinus part of the blame. He aids in bringing about his spouse’s ruin by his openly boastful pride (analogous to that of his kinsman, dubbed Superbus): “Each praised his wife[;] in their eagerness[,] dispute ran high […]. Then up and spake the man who from Collatia took his famous name: ‘No need of words! Trust deeds! [‘non opus est verbis, credite rebus!’] There’s night enough[’]” (Fasti 110–111, II.731–734). This rather patently parallels (or even prefigures) that other ‘feat’ performed by the nocturnal violator; as well as the quasi puppy(-headed one)’s decisive speaking and acting in

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Ovidian account of this tale is especially prominent and elaborate, evincing a (tacit) uptake of Livy’s version with decisive variations.50 Almost 1600 years later, Shakespeare can be seen to draw on both—and not just incidentally.51 || broad daylight (see Cassius Dio, as per Zonaras 7.11, at 78–79, II.11.10; cf. Shakespeare Tem 216, II.ii.151–152, with 216n.). In Ovid, said structuring device continues in the scene that ensues, featuring an ethopoetic speech of some length, which the poet puts into Lucretia’s mouth (at Fasti 110–113, II.745–754; later, her silence characterizes her: “illa nihil”, 114, II.797; “illa diu reticet”, 116, II.819, with v.823). Suddenly, unexpectedly seeing her husband—in the presence of other soldiers—she embraces him, a “dulce […] onus” (Fasti 112, II.760). Sextus Tarquinius sees this; the next two verses highlight his being ‘afire’, raging, ‘raving’, with “blind love” (“furiales […] ignes […] caeco raptus amore”, Fasti 112–113, II.761–762). In this textual economy, it thus appears to be vicariously induced (cf. Enterline Body 157; 160)—again giving Collatinus a share in the causal chain of events. Ovid’s version stresses that Sextus is prepared to use “vimque dolumque” (Fasti 112, II.780). A cunning ‘penetration’ (into the domestic sanctum) precedes the actual rape: “In the guise of a guest the foe found his way into the home [‘hostis ut hospes init penetralia’]” (Fasti 114–115, II.787). The inverse, similarly overdetermined act follows shortly after: “aurata vagina liberat ensem” (Fasti 114, II.793). The nocturnal scene of sexual predation is rendered in a highly dramatic manner, comprising the heroine’s verbalized internal struggle. Initially, Tarquin speaks two terse verses (Fasti 114, II.795–796); then another three, containing the extortive argument of posthumous defamation, which coerces her into yielding (Fasti 114, II.807–809). Lucretia’s silence throughout this incident is elaborated by the intratextual commentator—voicing her thoughts, spec. in a rapid series of brief interior queries: “quid faciat? pugnet? […] clamet? […] effugiat?” (Fasti 114, II.801–803). The actual violation is not described (as a matter of decorous course), but replaced by an incisive epigram on the (poet-)speaker’s part: “quid, victor, gaudes? haec te victoria perdet” (Fasti 114, II.811). A metatextually performative remark calls attention to the omission once more: “quaeque potest, narrat. restabant ultima” (Fasti 116, II.827). After her suicide (see Fasti 116, II.831–834), the mind of Brutus “at last belie[s] his name [‘animo sua nomina fallit’]” (Fasti 116–117, II.837). In a sermocinatio, this is articulated by the same: “Too long have I dissembled my manly worth [‘iam satis est virtus dissimulata diu’]” (Fasti 118–119, II.844). Ovid’s version has Lucretia still be “semianimi” (Fasti 116, II.838) during Brutus’ vow; she even “seem[s] […] to ratify the speech [‘dicta probare’]” (Fasti 118–119, II.846). The overall account concludes with these words: “That day was the last of kingly rule [‘dies regnis illa suprema fuit’]” (Fasti 118–119, II.852). A comprehensive, thoroughgoingly rhetorical reading would require a separate study. 50 Frazer logs that Ovid’s take seems indebted to Livy’s: “He must […] have known and used, though he does not mention, the great work of his contemporary the historian Livy, as his narratives of the tragedy of Lucretia and of the defeat and death of the Fabii suffice to prove” (“Intro.” xxvi–xxvii). In his choice of terms, Frazer may signal a spec. dramatic connotation. 51 In “several passages” of Luc, “Shakespeare closely follows Ovid’s account in Fasti” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 33); “the poem may have originated in an academic exercise of the kind […] requiring students to compare the history of Lucretia in Ovid’s Fasti with that in Livy’s history of Rome” (Dzelzainis 106–107; and 112–113). Cf. Enterline (Body 155– 156; with 164–167, 180, 186). See Blumenberg: “Die europäische Phantasie ist ein weitgehend auf Ovid zentriertes Beziehungsgeflecht” (Arbeit 383). He refers to the Metamorphoses: “Der

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Neither is it by chance that the most notorious reassessment of Lucretia in Late Antiquity may be found in Augustine’s City of God.52 Given the Church Father’s oratorical superiority, it will not seem fortuitous that he takes it up at the beginning of the fifth century—a watershed of world history. The City of Rome had just been overrun (in 410); the imperium—a thousand years in the making—was manifestly disintegrating.53 In McCracken’s words: “the work […] belong[s] to a time of crisis” (lxxvi).54 The patent result of Augustine’s hypólepsis is a dispositional symmetry—in the crafting of which the rhétor will hardly be innocent. Whereas the narrative of Lucretia and Brutus had marked the establishment of the Roman Republic, the bishop’s highly influential treatment is given at the opposite turning point. For some time, the Empire of the Caesars had no longer been sustained by its erstwhile myth. Nor does the present—visibly catastrophic—state of affairs support said inaugural narrative.55 Undeniable events have not only rendered it impossible, but downright impotent in the versions given so far. Consequently,

|| Dichter [sc. Ovid; also generally] rechnet auf ein Publikum, dem die mythischen Kernbestände so vertraut sind, daß es die Finessen der Ergänzungen und Übergänge, der Verformungen und Zuordnungen mühelos erkennen und genießen [kann]” (Arbeit 384). 52 Cf. Augustine (de civ. Dei I–III. 82–91, I.xix; also 74–83, I.xvi–xviii; 100–101, I.xxiii). See McCracken’s spec. dating: “The City of God” was “[c]omposed in the thirteen years from 413 to 426” (liv). As to Early Modern (here English) discussions, Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen observe: “The image of Lucrece could be viewed in […] conflicting ways” (“Intro.” 37). 53 See also McCracken (xlii; lxvi; lxx–lxxvi). In his Retractions, Augustine logs: “Rome had been swept by an invasion of the Goths […] and the impact of a great disaster [‘impetu magnae cladis’]; […] the […] pagans, attempting to attribute this visitation to the Christian religion, began more sharply and more bitterly than usual to blaspheme […]. Burning with […] zeal […] I decided to write […] The City of God” (“Retract. II.69” 2–3, II.69; cf. McCracken lxx–lxxi). The latter stresses: “the sack of Rome by Alaric certainly had a prime bearing on the project. This capture of the Eternal City by a foreign army for the first time in eight centuries [sc. since 390/386 BCE] profoundly shocked not only those whose presence in Rome at the time caused them personal anguish[,] but also those who, though safe for the moment in distant lands, could see terrifying possibilities in store” (lxxi, with n.); “the symbolic importance of the ancient city […] was so huge that, when Rome fell, in spite of its recent decline in prestige, it must have seemed to many that the world itself had fallen” (lxxii). 54 While he logs that “Augustine’s initial reaction” is likely to have been strong (lxxii), he does not concur with Bourke’s ‘overemphasis’: “‘Shocked by the news of the Sack of Rome […] Augustine began The City of God’” (qtd. at lxxii n.). McCracken wishes to stress that the Church Father is “not shocked into inactivity” (lxxi n.; cf. lxxv). His concession is cited above. 55 Augustine’s notorious Christian revaluation of the Eternal City’s foundational myth is located at what must have seemed—and, in due time, turned out to be—the endpoint of the Western imperium. Cf. Allen (90–91), cum grano salis. Contrast C. Kahn (266).

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a comprehensive ‘renovation’ will be necessary, if the myth—rather than being discarded altogether—is to be retained, to some extent (if ex negativo).56 While Machiavelli is writing Mandragola, ‘Italy’ is in a state of wholesale disarray (once again). At any rate, matters are so (re)presented in Il principe.57 A condition of ongoing emergency holds sway—and not only on the Apennine peninsula: the entire continent is implicated, Spain and France especially.58 When Shakespeare took to the matter of Lucretia and Brutus, the general and particular situation was similarly one of “crisis” (Dzelzainis 108).59 Despite || 56 Hardly will it be accidental that the Church Father takes Lucretia apart from his Christian standpoint; spec. with a view to the new foundations to be laid—paradigmatically envisioned in de civitate Dei. See Blumenberg’s general remark: “Für eine philosophische Mythologie ist das besonders gehärtete Material des Mythos in seinem Geschichtsgang nicht zuletzt dadurch aufschlußreich, daß an seinem Widerstand gegen die Richtung und Stärke der verformenden und destruktiven Kräfte Aufschlüsse für die geschichtlichen Horizonte gewonnen werden können, aus denen sie einwirken” (Arbeit 301). As to the import of an approach taking “‘Geschichtlichkeit’” (‘historicalness’, diachronicity) into account, Blumenberg speaks of the “Unmöglichkeit […], einen vorgegebenen Inhalt jederzeit in derselben Weise vorzutragen oder als verstanden zu denken. Die Negation dieser Unmöglichkeit ist wiederum das, was in der dogmatischen Denkform unterstellt wird” (Arbeit 301). 57 Cf. “Italia è suta corsa da Carlo, predata da Luigi, sforzata da Ferrando e vituperata da’ svizzeri” (Principe 87, xii; with Prince [Mansfield] 53, xii). The glosses give the dates as: “1494[– 14]95”, “1499”, “1501”, “1512”, resp. (Principe 87n.). Generally, see the book’s last ch. (Prince [Mansfield] 101–105, xxvi; Principe 168–175, xxvi). Cf. Flaumenhaft on “the first edition of Mandragola (Florence, 1518)”, initially called ‘Comedia di Callimaco: & di Lucretia’ (“Intro.” 6; a facsimile of the first frontispiece: fm, no pag.). Machiavelli seems to have added songs to its beginning, and throughout, as late as 1526 (cf. M [Flaumenhaft] 7n.). Intratextually, Callimaco situates the play in a diachronicity: “I was ten years old when I was sent by my guardians […] to Paris, where I have been for twenty years. And because at the end of ten years, there began, with the march of Charles, the wars in Italy which ruined this country, I decided to live in Paris and never to repatriate myself” (M [Flaumenhaft] 12, I.i). The glosses clarify: “King Charles VIII of France invaded Italy in 1494[–14]95. The action of the play is set in 1504” (M [Flaumenhaft] 12n.). Strauss observes: “not the concern with the common good[,] nor the desire for glory[,] but the desire for a woman[,] made him cease worrying about his own security” (Thoughts 284). 58 Conditions were about to be aggravated further, precisely by those numerous (quasi) Religious Wars ravaging (almost) all of Europe not much later. As a matter of course, the decidedly (power) political problems at their root had already been in place and play while Machiavelli was writing in the 1510s (as well as before and after). 59 With context: “in late Elizabethan England […][,] the regime was in the throes of what can aptly be called a crisis; primarily a medical term, ‘crisis’ was beginning to acquire its political overtones from experts on ragion di stato who cast themselves as physicians to the body politic […]. A combination of debilitating factors – the war with Spain, military intervention on the side of the Huguenots in France and the Dutch rebels in the Low Countries, rebellion in Ireland, the struggle at court between the Essex and Cecil factions, and, above all, the

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an improved position after 1588, England continued to be under threat from the Catholic superpowers of Early Modern Europe. Elizabeth I was visibly aging; the issue of her succession remained uncertain and unsettling.60 More specifically, the playwright’s epic poems Venus and Adonis (1593) and Lucrece (1594)—both of which are markedly dramatic—appear to have been scripted during prolonged periods of severe plague, with all London theaters and comparable public activity officially shut down.61 Sans exception, everyone was facing a time of medical, civic, economic, familial or personal crisis.62 Mutatis mutandis, such is the Florentine’s situation also, given his distance from public office under Medici rule. During the 1510s, this very redundancy— contingently, and inter alia—led to his writing the œuvre for which he is justly (in)famous.63 “The circumstances under which Machiavelli wrote make all his writings ‘political’ events” (Flaumenhaft “Intro.” 4; see Civic 108).

|| unresolved matter of the succession – meant that the English body politic […] looked in dire need of alternative therapies” (Dzelzainis 108–109). 60 Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen observe: “Venus could be connected with the sudden deaths associated with late summer plague […]. But Lucrece is more daring in its topicality. […] Not only will Rome in future admit no ‘Tarquins’: she will admit no kings of any kind. Five years later, in Julius Caesar, Shakespeare was to depict the assassination of a Roman leader who, it is claimed by his killers, is on the point of accepting a crown. As they moved into the closing years of the queen’s reign, with no Tudor heir in view, many Elizabethans, possibly including both Southampton and Shakespeare, were thinking actively about the republican forms of government practised so successfully in antiquity by Rome, and in their own age by […] Venice. Lucrece is the earliest of several works by Shakespeare that touch on such issues” (“Intro.” 56). While their (usual proclivity for) speculation may seem especially precarious here, the fact remains that “such issues” were being treated: interpretations may vary. 61 Due to a “high incidence of plague deaths in London, the public theatres were closed from 23 June to 29 December 1592. After reopening for just one month, they were […] closed for the whole of 1593. Playing was briefly resumed in 1594[.] […] a return of plague caused the theatres to be closed yet again from 3 February until 1 April 1594 […]. This prolonged closing of the playhouses compelled Shakespeare to divert his creative energies to a different form of writing, upmarket poems intended for publication” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 13). Barroll logs: “in 1593, […] the authorities closed the playhouses during an epidemic of plague that effectually erased the theater business for over twenty months” (17); the context is problematic. 62 Cf. “Shakespeare’s poem was published” (referring to VA) in “a time when the fear of death was […] immediate for all city-dwellers, writers and readers alike” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 12–13); similarly for Luc (see above). As concerns the economic effects, the eds. stress: “Venus […] was the first work to be published under Shakespeare’s name, and, unlike the early plays, was written with a view to posterity as well as to immediate profit” (“Intro.” 11). They note “his remarkably strong economic position. […] the poems made him rich” (“Intro.” 14). 63 Spec. Il Principe (~1513), the Discorsi (~1510s), Mandragola (~1518); all dates approx. Said play was apparently revised, and (partly) augmented, in the (early) 1520s (see the n. above).

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While the consigliere completely refunctionalizes the narrative in question, Shakespeare’s uptake and reworking more recognizably retains many features of the myth’s various previous versions. Accordingly, it will seem expedient to begin with the later playwright’s—decidedly dramatic—poem; and then proceed to the earlier adaptation on Machiavelli’s part.64 The present, rhetorical approach targets the more ‘universal’ questions, the transtemporal ‘kathólou’—hence may deprioritize ‘Historicist’ concerns.65

|| 64 Discreetly, Shakespeare may be hinting at, even alluding to, Machiavelli’s play in his poetic economy. In a comparatist view, an entire stanza (spoken by Tarquin) might be taken to all but certainly signal the reworking of the Lucretian matter in Mandragola: “‘But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend: / The fault unknown is as a thought unacted. / ‘A little harm done to a great good end / For lawful policy remains enacted’. / ‘The poisonous simple sometime is compacted / In a pure compound; being so applied, / His venom in effect is purified’[’]” (“Luc” 282–283, v.526–532). This may well look like an allusion to the outcome in Mandragola—with Callimaco seemingly succeeding to remain Lucrezia’s lover; and the Church, in the persona of Frate Timoteo, legitimizing the whole affair. Besides, the last three lines cited describe what is said to happen in terms of the mandrake root. Not least, the intercalated commonplaces, maxims are associable with Machiavellian, Tacitist modes (cf. “Luc” 283n.; yet said glosses do not seem to mention the latter or the Florentine’s play; and tend to be problematic, spec. in politicorhetorical regards; similarly: Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 43). As to the Machiavellian “milieu […] of the fin de siècle” in Shakespeare’s time, see Dzelzainis (107; and 108). 65 Cf. “The difference between the historian and the poet”: “the one relates actual events, the other the kinds of things that might occur. Consequently, poetry is more philosophical [‘φιλοσοφώτερον’] […] than history, since poetry relates more of the universal [‘ἡ (…) ποίησις μᾶλλον τὰ καθόλου’], while history relates particulars [‘ἡ δ’ ἱστορία τὰ καθ’ ἕκαστον λέγει’]” (Aristotle “Poetics” 58–59, IX, 1451a–1451b). See Snell (90; 97; 112); Fuhrmann (“Einführung” 25; 29); Bubner (Geschichtsprozesse 57); Schaeffer (Art of the Modern Age 93–94); Kablitz (“Petrarkismus” 114–115); Küpper (“Mimesis” 41; “Denken” 261–264; “World Literature” 174– 175); and Trimpi (“Ancient” 49–50; “Mimesis” 207; “Winters” 201)—who observes: “In the Renaissance, […] the universalis of Aristotle continued to be glossed as the quaestio indefinita of Cicero” (Muses 65n.; with “Ancient” 51). Rhetorically put: “In this broader sense of a universal, the ‘thesis’ connotes the generic within the specific, not isolated in abstraction but immanent in a given particular situation” (Muses 66n.). Cf. subchs. 7.3, 9.4, and 11.3.4, herein.

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7.2.2 Shakespeare’s Lucrece (1594) How TARQUIN must be used, read it in me[.] —Shakespeare (“Luc” 333, v.1195)66 ‘art’ […] is the ability […] to prevail […] after a defeat[.] —Kablitz (“Alterität.” 225n.; trans. dsm)

Compared to the attention given to his corpus of plays and sonnets, the Bard’s epic poetry tends to be relegated by critics and scholars alike—an inversion of their Early Modern impact.67 The Arden editors log that the earliest readers relished Shakespeare’s perceived ‘sweetness’ especially: his euphonious verse, its persuasive suavity—and both in decidedly oratorical terms.68 || 66 As to the express delegation, see Livy (Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 202–203, I.lviii.10). Cf. Enterline (Body 154; 160; 179; 196). Contrast Donaldson (54–55). 67 For an illustrative précis of the sheer number of misguided assessments, see Lever (22–25)— who himself asserts “the mainly historical interest evoked by Lucrece” (25). As throughout, Donaldson’s value judgments seem ill-advised (40–56; 115; spec. 40, 49, 55–56). Regarding the above, Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen stress (albeit in biographistic terms): “It was the narrative poems that established Shakespeare’s early fame most strongly”; he wrote no “more such poems after 1594” (“Preface” xv); i.e. after Luc (and as far as is known). VA “quickly became the most popular narrative poem of the late Elizabethan period” (“Intro.” 31). On the textual status, the eds. log: “the ‘narrative’ poems, […] authorized by Shakespeare himself, were excellently printed by his Stratford contemporary Richard Field” (“Intro.” 3). “Unlike his earliest plays, Shakespeare’s two great narrative poems were published by the poet’s own wish, and with his name publicly attached to them” (“Intro.” 4). “His literary reputation was quickly established in the mid-1590s on the strength of the two long poems […], which continued to be reprinted, read and imitated throughout the Jacobean period” (“Intro.” 4–5); “excellent authorized texts, these two works had already been reprinted many times [sc. by 1623, the ‘First Folio’], Venus as recently as 1620 and Lucrece in 1616, the year of Shakespeare’s death” (“Intro.” 9). As holds good for the reading of Machiavelli’s Mandragola (see subch. 7.2.3), the present essai on, and approach to, Lucrece explicitly disclaims comprehensiveness with respect to the source, as well as the (virtually unassessable) quantity of secondary and tertiary literature. 68 “In addition to their ‘sweetness’ of style, a likely reason for the popularity of Shakespeare’s poems of 1593 and 1594 is the central position given to female figures, announced in each poem’s title” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 31). “For his Elizabethan fans, the poet […] was above all ‘sweet’” (“Intro.” 4); his “non-theatrical poetry was received with immediate delight” (“Intro.” 5). “By the end of Elizabeth’s reign the identification of ‘Shakespeare’ with sugar, honey […] sweetness was […] complete” (“Intro.” 5). “That ‘sweet’ label, […] inspired by the poems of 1593 and 1594, stuck so firmly that it continued to be applied when plays […] were being addressed” (“Intro.” 6). “The word ‘sweet’ had […] literary connotations, alluding to ‘sweet’ or ‘sugared’ rhetoric, as defined in OED’s sense 5c: […] Pleasing to the ear and mind; […] ‘persuasive, winning’” (“Intro.” 6). The eds. mention the influence of “the dolce stil nuovo” (“Intro.” 7). Yet they do not seem to stress the needful—etymological—nexus: “Latin suādēre is

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Even so, those critics reduce the art to elocutio, ornatus, speaking of “the decorative and harmonious qualities of Shakespeare’s poetic rhetoric” (DuncanJones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 6).69 Such or similar wordings cannot but insinuate an innocence as to virtuosities hidden beneath layers of plain ‘sugarcoating’.70 || […] related to […] suāvis SWEET” (Barnhart/Steinmetz 1082, s.v. ‘suasion’). See Eden: “the root of ‘persuasio is sweetness’” (qtd. in: Mayfield “Proceedings” 210). For the ‘smoother’ or ‘softer’ rhetorical “ornatus” (spec. in the “genus medium”) being referred to as “g r a t i a (χάρις) or suavitas (iucunditas, dulcitudo, dulcedo; γλυκύτης)”, see Lausberg (Elemente 60, §166.2; trans. dsm; plus Handbuch 186, §336; 520–522, §1079.2). Cf. subchs. 5.2.2, 8.2, 13.3.2, herein. 69 The value judgment is highly problematic: “What his contemporaries received with such immediate delight were the decorative and harmonious qualities of Shakespeare’s poetic rhetoric” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 6). Such would seem to imply its being ‘mere’ ornament; which is precisely not the case (nor ever, oratorically speaking). The eds. do observe that VA and Luc are “carefully patterned and structured works” (“Preface” xvii; see “Intro.” 2; 15–17), sporting “refined […] complementarities”: “Both poems focus on a female protagonist […]. Both concern sexual desire […]. Both draw on classical sources” (“Intro.” 1). Yet they do not appear to make the connection between elocutio and dispositio (as the present arrangement of citations provisionally attempts). Nor do their construals—in focusing on the former, and considering the latter separately—appear to take the integrated, overall aim of rhetoric into account: efficacious persuasion. To varying degrees, delectare (delight, incl. said ‘sweetness’) and movere tend to be allied to docere (see Lausberg Elemente 34–35, §67–70; with Handbuch 167–168, §293). In line with the above issue, said eds. do not accentuate (sufficiently, or at all) the rhetorico-dramatic nexus, which is of spec. pertinence to Shakespeare’s poems (see below). 70 While ‘well-meant’, such ‘artless’ value judgments tend to have opposite fallouts (cf. Benn Künstlerische 164). The rhetorical function of said ‘sweetness’ is decidedly political in this case, as well. A descriptive take may elicit the latencies. A neglect thereof is all the more suspect, in that a key verse yields not just the term at issue; but also hints at its (civic) implications: “sweet observance in this work was had” (“Luc” 347, v.1385). This line refers to the intra-, meta-textual ékphrasis—whose desired effect of evidentia is described (as valid) for the female protagonist’s poetic hermeneutics. Cf. “Shakespeare’s description of the ‘skilful painting’ […] is one of the most sophisticated evocations of a visual artefact in the whole Elizabethan period. As such, it acts as a display piece for Shakespeare’s own conceptual and literary artistry” (DuncanJones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 48; for views on the painting: 47–53). Withal, the gloss ad locum gives one sense of ‘sweet observance’ only: “delightful and careful observation or attention to detail” (“Luc” 347n.). Oratorically, “sweet” entails ‘persuasive’ (‹ ‘suavis’); “observance” also the ‘aptum’. Accommodating (poetic) rules, (tacit) guidelines (of a given time) tends to effect a sensation of recognition in the recipients; hence usually leads to approval (the familiar being plausible); eventually to a consummate impression of likelihood—which facilitates persuasion, in turn. Inter alia, adhering to decorum—being just another contingent nómos—pleases, and so fortifies, a given state of ‘tastes’, affairs. ‘Sweetness’ serves as a noetic lubricant—conducive to gaining ‘power over minds’ (see “Macht […] über […] ‘Köpfe’”, Blumenberg “Staatstheorie” 132; he adds: “weil man die Köpfe dadurch verliert, daß man sie gegen ihren Willen beherrscht”; likewise at Höhlen. 34–35). Comparably, Lanham: “Lucrece[…] begins her posthumous life in other men’s minds” (106). Cf. the onset of ch. 7; and subch. 13.5, herein.

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As a corollary of the above issue, said editors speak of “Shakespeare’s nontheatrical poetry” (“Intro.” 5): a wording that is—at least—misleading.71 For the like tends to overstress the (formal) distance from his dramatic works—a plainly un-Aristotelian stance, incidentally.72 In fact, the(se) poems are paradigmatic of enárgeia, a technique providing a vivid nexus between oratory and the theater.73

|| 71 It may seem indefensible. The nexus said eds. do log is quantitative: “Each of the two great narrative poems [sc. VA, Luc] […] is as long as a short play” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Preface” xvii; cf. “Intro.” 1). They also note the “great immediacy”, the (deictic) “technique used to produce this effect of immediacy”; the “visual description” in the poems (“Intro.” 10). Apart from the fact that oratorico-linguistic terms and modes are omitted—here spec. evidentia (see below)—the eds. fail to address the (downright patent) nexus of rhetoric and drama in this regard (generally, cf. Mayfield “Interplay” 15–16; 16n.–17n.). Withal, their ensuing claim must seem implausible diachronically: “As readers of the poem, we are granted privileged access to her [sc. Lucrece’s] interior consciousness. Such copious soliloquizing would not be tolerable in the playhouse” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 33). A reference to Senecan tragedy (see Lever 23)—plus a comparatist, pan-European approach—would be sufficient to render such a construal (highly) questionable. Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen do not appear to take Seneca into account in their intro. His name appears in two notes to the text proper (cf. “Luc” 258n.; 290n.). Similarly, they seem to sideline the Augustinian influence (at “Intro.” 44; “Luc” 306n.), while allowing only Livy and Ovid as direct sources (at Poems 527–534; App.2; with Lever 23; Vickers 99–100). On the former: Allen (91; 97), Donaldson (44–49), C. Kahn (266–268; 272n.–273n.)—all cum grano salis. As regards the Ovidian, see Enterline (Body 11, 14, 152–197, 253n.–257n.; spec. “Student of Ovid that he is”, 158; “the many Ovidian subtexts”, 159; “complex engagement with Ovidian rhetoric”, 161; “distinctively Ovidian aspects”, 162; “Shakespeare, like Petrarch, carries on the Ovidian tradition”, 176; “a figural network […] derived from Ovid”, 190). 72 In part, their problematic stance is due to an (otherwise plausible) agenda of championing VA and Luc. As to the nexus of drama and epic, see Aristotle on Homer (“Poetics” 35, 1448a, III; 41, 1448b, IV; 57–59, 1451a, VIII; 121–123, 1460a, XXIV). The latter is said to “combin[e] narrative with direct personation” (“Poetics” 35, 1448a, III); to have been “preeminent not only in quality but also in composing dramatic mimesis [‘μιμήσεις δραματικὰς’]” (“Poetics” 40–41, 1448b, IV). Halliwell’s gloss clarifies: “[i].e. containing much direct/personative speech” (“Poetics” 40n.). Later, the philosopher “uses a theatrical term to highlight Homer’s ‘dramatic’ quality” (“Poetics” 123n.): “brings on stage [‘εἰσάγει’]” (“Poetics” 122–123, 1460a, XXIV). Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen log cross-references, but employ these with a view to elevating the status of the poems—rather than (also) underscoring the formal affinities to the plays (i.e. the dramatic quality of his epic verse): “Though Venus and Adonis was the more popular work during his lifetime, it appears to be Lucrece that lodged itself most deeply in Shakespeare’s creative imagination. It is prominently alluded to in Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Macbeth and Cymbeline […][;] these allusions reflect Shakespeare’s awareness that the poems continued to be reprinted” (“Preface” xvi; see “Intro.” 54; 56). The omission of MM in said list is rather curious: “Lucrece, like Measure for Measure, is much concerned with the idea of government” (Donaldson 116; cf. 53; his context being highly problematic: there as throughout). 73 In eloquent words from the poem itself: “To see sad sights moves more than hear them

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In their contemporaneous setting, Venus and Lucrece would typically have been recited aloud—precisely also to savor their audio-elocutionary ‘sweetness’. Early Modern recipients read with their ears (so to speak). It would be but a small step from such a praxis to quasi ‘chamber’ stagings—with allotted parts, oratorical delivery (actio), certain forms of roleplay.74 Under emergency conditions—with the plague repeatedly ravaging the city, enforcing an abstinence from any entertainments entailing large crowds—such modes would only have gained in ‘popularity’; albeit in limited and sheltered forms. While contingencies cannot be eluded, they may be handled differently. The Lucretian matter is theatrical per se and in general.75 It features a cast of roles evoking, even encouraging, dramatic adaptations; plus at least three, expressly inter-‘active’—downright spectacular—scenes. Shakespeare’s specific version comprises much direct speech withal.76 Early Modern readers were not only buying suavely playful (epic) poetry; they acquired a script for delivering, even representing, their own plays at home.77 Besides, times of (medical, civic, economic) crisis ever require—and conduce to—various forms of virtuality. Be all that as it may. The most problematic assessment in the Arden edition will still be its asserting that Shakespeare’s poem “end[s] tragically” (DuncanJones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 7).78 Construing it as the latter—while apparently || told” (“Luc” 342, v.1324). Matters are also taken in (not to say, consumed) with the “mind’s eye” (Ham [2nd] 173, I.i.115; 191, I.ii.185; cf. 191n.)—whereto any ‘painting with words’ conduces decisively. See Mayfield (“Interplay” 15–16, 16n.–17n.; incl. further references). 74 See subch. 6.2, herein. A considerable number of stanzas are in direct speech—with verbal, often intense interaction between the characters. Withal, the expressly narrative, commenting segments have the ring of a (Greek) chorus (in form, function); and could be adapted to precisely such a use. VA, Luc are highly ‘dramatic’, literally speaking; and eminently stageable. See Aristotle: “dramas [‘δράματα’] are so called because they represent people in action [‘μιμοῦνται δρῶντας’]” (“Poetics” 34–35, 1448a, III; cf. 37, 1448b, III). Halliwell glosses: “The noun drama derives from the verb dran, ‘do’ or ‘act’” (“Poetics” 35n.). 75 Pertinently, Martinez observes “Livy’s conspicuously dramatic treatment” (cf. “strikingly”, “Pharmacy [1983]” 11; “Pharmacy [1990]” 41). 76 For a rhetorical take, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 16–17; 19; 196; and 163–164, with Livy). 77 The Early Modern popularity of the poems—their ‘Modern’ neglect (relatively speaking)— will likely have to do with this oratorico-dramatic aspect. As to “Celestina” potentially being “read aloud” (18)—and “from multiple perspectives” (19)—see Kilian: “Following Boccaccio’s model, […] we find a […] group of people listening to a storyteller or […] reader (the famous Florentine brigata)” (18). Cf. subch. 6.2, herein. See Fineman’s suggestive reading—“mak[ing] erotic theater of the poem’s textuality” (191; with 192; his speculative context cum grano salis). 78 “Both […] narrative poems […] end tragically, and Lucrece – if anything the more ambitious in its rhetorical patterning – is tonally dark throughout” (“Intro.” 7). Apart from being value judgmental and insufficiently nuanced, this assertion seems blinded by sentiment, while also

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not as ‘dramatic’—cannot but suggest a certain innocence as to the rhetoricopolitical implications and potentials.79 To be eliciting universal latencies—yielding more abysmal insinuations— may be taken as an altogether tentative attempt at balancing surface readings.80 This focus entails perusing Lucrece qua decidedly oratorico-dramatic work. The ‘Argument’ prefixed to the poem tenders the general plot, which retains most (if not all) of the ‘positions’ present in (m)any of the myth’s reshapings.81 By contrast, the verses commence ‘medias in res’: “the poem starts off, very straightforwardly, with Tarquin rushing, ‘all in post’” (Fineman 174).82

|| underestimating the ‘brutal’ finale precisely. They do note: “Contrasted and complementary throughout, the two poems are most strongly differentiated in their endings” (“Intro.” 53). “While the end of Venus is ethereal, quiet and magical, the end of Lucrece is physical, bloody and political” (“Intro.” 54). Yet this is not tied in with the forensico-dramatic factors. Moreover, the “political” implications the eds. appear to mean come to sheer speculation, in a Historicist vein—an ostensively habitualized proclivity (see “Intro.” 56; with “Preface” xvii). Hardly will such conduce to a descriptive approach; to say naught of a kathólou perspective. 79 Cf. “non-theatrical” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 5). Despite a customary aversion to rhetoric, prior appraisals had seen the affinity: “Lucrece fell half-way between narrative and drama” (Lever 23; with “Seneca’s dramatic poems”; “a semi-dramatic, semi-rhetorical mode”, 24–25; “Narrative in appearance, […] substantially ‘tragic’”, 25); the context is problematic. 80 In the earlier dedication, Shakespeare (in his own name) promises “some graver labour” (“VA” 128, Ded.10; cf. 129n.). Mayhap apart from the insinuations of (figurative) ‘gravidity’— and the consequent query what kind of birth that might be—the point of reference is usually seen to be Luc indeed: “the ‘graver labour’ […] could hardly have dealt with weightier matters” (Dzelzainis 106). In its time, the work appears to have been so taken: “many political maxims from Lucrece were included with non-literary matter in Englands Parnassus” (Lever 23, as per E. P. Kuhl). Generally, the former adds: “troubled depths were intimated. […] it was left for others to distinguish between undercurrents […] and the very different look of things on the poem’s surface” (24). Declaring that “no one has ever questioned its gravity” (94), Lanham concedes: “Lucrece has presented a surface sufficiently conventional and sufficiently reflective of critical naivete to masquerade for a long time as suitable for a noble dedication” (109). As to either of the epic poems: “Shakespeare’s two masterpieces are both polished, diabolically so” (108). 81 With respect to VA and Luc, Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen stress that “Shakespeare made decisive changes to his sources” (“Intro.” 57). As would any virtuoso poet and rhetorician. 82 (Cf. 167, 186, 188, 198–200, 209–215; his take is suspect). The first stanza shows Sextus en route to the place of his transgression (“Luc” 237, v.1–3). Collatine’s involvement (praising his wife overmuch) is inserted after the first stanza (“Luc” 238–241, v.8–42). Cf. N. Vickers (96; 98– 103; 107; 111); Fineman (172–173; 177; 182; 185–186; 190–191; 198–200; 204–205); Enterline (Body 157–158; 160; 176–177). Also Donaldson (50–51), C. Kahn (262; 271), both cum grano salis. Sextus is received “at COLLATIUM” (“Luc” 242, v.50). His first, guest-like encounter with the lady is related at some length, contrasting their characters, intents (see “Luc” 242–249, v.50–126).

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The text submits ponderings on the latter’s part; verbal interaction between him and his erstwhile victim; Lucrece’s articulate, extended, emotio-notional response (after the offender has left).83 Then follows the lady’s deliberate speech || 83 The poem gives almost 200 lines to Tarquin’s internal debate and auto-persuasion as to performing the deed (“Luc” 249–264, v.127–301). It leads to this: “The ROMAN lord marcheth to LUCRECE’ bed” (“Luc” 264, v.301). The next stanzas depict his movements (“Luc” 264–269, v.302–364); his gazing upon the sleeping beauty (“Luc” 269–275, v.365–434); finally, his haptic approach (“Luc” 275–276, v.435–441)—which wakes her: “She, much amazed, breaks ope her locked-up eyes” (“Luc” 276, v.446). The readers are directly addressed, asked to put themselves in the lady’s place—so as to vicariously feel her “terror” (“Luc” 277, v.455): “Imagine her” (“Luc” 277, v.449). Two long sermocinationes attribute menaces to Tarquin (“Luc” 279–281, v.477–504; and 281–284, v.512–539): “‘Lucrece’, quoth he, ‘this night I must enjoy thee. / If thou deny, then force must work my way” (“Luc” 281, v.512–513). The lady “[p]leads” with him silently (“Luc” 284, v.544; see 284–287, v.542–574); next, words are also put into her mouth (“Luc” 287–292, v.575–644): “Melt at my tears, and be compassionate!” (“Luc” 288, v.594). Though he tells her to “‘[h]ave done’” (“Luc” 292, v.645), she continues to supplicate (“Luc” 293–294, v.652–666). Yet he forcefully interrupts her in mid-sentence: “‘No more […] / Yield to my love” (“Luc” 294, v.667–668; cf. Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 34). Tarquin then “sets his foot upon the light” (“Luc” 294, v.673). At some length, the narrative or choral voice proceeds with general remarks (“Luc” 294–298, v.674–728)—discreetly displacing a description of the violation as such. Tarquin ‘steals’ away “through the dark night” (“Luc” 298, v.729; see 298–300, v.729–745). The focus shifts to Lucrece, who begins a long speech (“Luc” 300–324, v.747–1078), with brief narratorial comments. In its course (et inter alia), she curses Night per se (“Luc” 301–305, v.747–812); muses on honor (“Luc” 305–308, v.820–854); faults Opportunity (“Luc” 310–313, v.874–924; cf. Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 45), as well as Temporality personified (“Luc” 313–316, v.925–966). Turning back from the general plane to the case at hand (contrast: C. Kahn 267), Lucrece addresses Time on her own behalf—trying to veer contingency against her ravisher: “With some mischance cross TARQUIN in his flight” (“Luc” 316, v.968). “Let there bechance him pitiful mischances” (“Luc” 317, v.976; see 316–319, v. 967– 1001). Précising her tirade—“In vain I rail at Opportunity, / At Time, at TARQUIN, and uncheerful Night” (“Luc” 320, v.1023–1025)—she finally fulminates against her own eloquence: “Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools” (“Luc” 320, v.1016; cf. Mac 288, V.v.22–27). “This helpless smoke of words doth me no right” (“Luc” 320, v.1027; see Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 46; Fineman 189–190; Enterline Body 193). The thought of suicide is spelled out just after: “The remedy indeed to do me good / Is to let forth my foul-defiled blood” (“Luc” 321, v.1028–1029). “I am the mistress of my fate” (“Luc” 323, v.1069). After her exasperated indictments—and with the coming of day—ensues Lucrece’s coping with her “grief” (“Luc” 324–330, v.1079–1148; here 326, v.1111), spec. by music (“Luc” 327–330, v.1121–1148). Then follows further deliberation as to the way out (“To live or die”, “Luc” 330, v.1154; see 330–334, v.1149–1211). Articulately, she aims to render her self and death an example as amounts to a delegation: “How TARQUIN must be used, read it in me” (“Luc” 333, v.1195). The initial statement “‘To kill myself’” (“Luc” 330, v.1156) finally meets with resolve: “Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say ‘So be it’” (“Luc” 334, v.1209). The lady calls for a servant, giving her company (“Luc” 334–336, v.1214–1236). The narrating voice has a chance to incorporate three stanzas on women: in general, as contrasted

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in the presence of her husband, father, others—prior to a spectacular exit.84 She “stage-manages her death so as to maximize its effectiveness” (C. Kahn 269).85 Significantly, the violation proper had fallen into a most discreet praeteritio.86

|| with men (“Luc” 336–337, v.1237–1260). Lucrece talks to her maid (“Luc” 338–339, v.1268– 1295); writes a letter to her spouse (“Luc” 339–343, v.1296–1343); sends a servant to deliver it (“Luc” 343–344–345, v.1344–1360). To pass the time until her husband’s arrival, she studies a “skilful painting” (“Luc” 345, v.1367)—relating matters of the Trojan War, instigated by “HELEN’s rape” (“Luc” 345, v.1369). Its ékphrasis, and Lucrece’s (hermeneutic, haptic) engagement with the work of art—plus the afflictions it depicts, which she suffers by proxy, granting her a certain amount of relief—continues for over 200 lines (“Luc” 345–363, v.1366– 1582). While analyzing deceptiveness personified (“Luc” 356–362, v.1501–1568), the lady suddenly finds her own case implied and applicable (“Luc” 359–362, v.1534–1568): “‘For even as subtle SINON here is painted, / […] / To me came TARQUIN armed to beguild / With outward honesty, but yet defiled / with inward vice. As PRIAM him did cherish, / So did I Tarquin, so my Troy did perish” (“Luc” 359–360, v.1541, 1544–1547). In the process, she vicariously attacks the depicted deceiver (in place of her own tormentor): “She tears the senseless SINON with her nails / Comparing him to that unhappy guest / Whose deed hath made herself herself detest” (“Luc” 361–362, v.1564–1566; cf. Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 52–53). 84 Lucrece’s spouse “and other company” arrive (“Luc” 363, v.1584). She relates the events, calls for revenge, points to the violator’s name at the very end of her narrative (“Luc” 365–368, v.1613–1659; 369–371, v.1676–1694; 371, v.1700–1708; 372–372, v.1713–1722); straightway stabs herself (“Luc” 373, v.1723–1729). Father (“Luc” 375–376, v.1751–1771) and husband bemoan her (“Luc” 376–378, v.1772–1790)—conjointly: “Then son and father weep with equal strife / Who should weep most, for daughter or for wife” (“Luc” 378, v.1791–1792; cf. 378–379, v.1791–1806). Contrasting with their pathetic comportment, Brutus takes control of the scene—vigorously driving the action towards its decisive, political consequences (“Luc” 379–383, v.1807–1855). 85 The critic’s immediate and general context is highly problematic. 86 Cf. Fineman (“passed over”, “discreet”, 183); his context cum grano salis. “The climactic moment of the rape is almost invisible. We blink, and it has happened, somewhere in the stanza gap between lines 686 and 687” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 42). The eds. log that “Shakespeare […] handle[s] a narrative[,] whose defining event is a sexual encounter[,] in a remarkably decorous manner” (“Intro.” 42; cf. 43). As in the lack of pertinent glosses on the text’s downright risqué innuendos (spec. “Luc” 288, v.589–595, spoken by Lucrece; as well as passim), certain construals could yield the impression of being too innocent for Shakespeare’s abysmal écriture. Should the needful references have been spirited away deliberately, such might be thought to redound to readerly decency; but will not speak for scholarly probity. At the other extreme, assertions like C. Kahn’s are positively untextual (260; as she seems to admit in passing: 264, 269). See Enterline’s nuanced take (Body 14; 152–197; spec. 158–161, 167, 173, 178; for pertinent criticism of C. Kahn, 162; and Fineman, 176–178, 255n.). “Shakespeare returns to an Ovidian problem: how to write verses […] represent[ing] a crime […] that lies beyond the power of words to tell” (Enterline Body 153); “we must […] keep in mind Shakespeare’s inaugural act in writing this poem: to speak as if in the voice of Ovid’s Lucretia” (Body 159).

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It may be fair to observe that many (if not all) critical efforts have tended to center on the violator or female protagonist.87 Yet such might precisely eclipse Lucrece’s vital ending.88 “To the theatrically minded Shakespeare, […] she is […] acting the part of an instrument” (Enterline Body 192)—in more than one sense. Faced with turning her ‘personal’ misfortune to good account, the lady has recourse to the cultural device par excellence.89 Producing an expedient (state of) contingency from an accident, she delegates the advantages to be taken.90 In Shakespeare’s verbal economy, the poem opens in actu—with Tarquin en route to the lady’s home in the first stanza (“Luc” 237–238, v.1–7).91 Comparably, the other decisive protagonist, Lucius Junius (called Brutus) suddenly—and, to all appearances, contingently—emerges toward the end of the poem. This, in turn, will parallel Lucrece’s unexpected exit(us), in the eyes of those present.92 Intratextually, that supposed fool is not named until line 1734, where he is the only one to take action, while everybody else is “Stone-still, astonished”— blinded by (com)passion at Lucrece’s suicide and corpse (“Luc” 373, v.1730– 1733; here: 1730). Unbridled emotionality has a tendency to atrophy any good

|| 87 This is justifiable, due to the sheer quantity of verses pertaining to the two; as well as on account of the complex and multifaceted treatment their interaction receives intratextually. Cf. e.g. “The sight of the painted Sinon, visible to her as a surrogate for the departed Tarquin, provokes Lucrece to a token act of physical aggression which prefigures the more serious act of violence that she will soon perform upon herself. […] By stabbing herself in their presence [sc. of her husband, father, others] she at once mimics and symbolically cancels the secret act of violation performed on her in private by Tarquin. She also invites public retribution for Tarquin’s crime” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 52–53). Generally, Lucrece may seem a rather Senecan (as well as Ovidian) character—in decidedly dramatic terms. 88 As announced in the poem’s ‘Argument’. Its long last sentence reads: “bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the doer and manner of the vile deed, with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the people were so moved that, with one consent and a general acclamation, the Tarquins were all exiled, and the state government changed from kings to consuls” (“Luc” 236, Arg.35–41). “Doubts have been raised about whether Shakespeare himself wrote the Argument, because of its Latinate style and also its inclusion of much material not covered in the poem” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 66). They argue for his authorship. The burthen of proof will lie with such as would deny it. 89 See Blumenberg: “Kultur ist delegierte Selbsterhaltung” (Beschreibung 223). 90 Contrast C. Kahn: “The story of Lucrece […] is a founding myth of patriarchy” (259; with 260, 269, 271). In the face of such innocence, the least ill-advised course will be to suggest a rereading—precisely in order to “arrive[…] at a nuanced perspective” (266). 91 Cf. “In 1593–4[,] Shakespeare’s career as a print-published poet took off with a swiftness that is matched by the openings of the poems themselves” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 10). “Both stories are told with great immediacy” (“Intro.” 10). 92 C. Kahn logs further correspondences between the two (cf. 271); her context cum grano salis.

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sense there might otherwise be. Since most rational animals are so only in potentia, that seemingly gratifying adjective may well be elided or replaced. Accustomed to controlling his personae by a lifelong—and vital—habit of roleplay, the motleyed one shows his true colors: “from the purple fountain BRUTUS drew / The murd’rous knife” (“Luc” 373–374, v.1734–1735).93 Another 10 stanzas pass till he takes oratorical control of the intratextual scene, becoming the action’s driving factor until the very end.94 Recycling raw chance, Lucrece’s politic(al) discipline functions as a ‘catalyst’; Lucius knows how to use it.95 For recipients to tie in with verse 1734, the latter’s name and previous deeds are hypoleptically taken up in the stanza introducing his ethos.96 Its eloquent transformation issues into a rhetorically induced reversal of the crisis: ‘Thou wronged lord of ROME’, quoth he, ‘arise; Let my unsounded self, supposed a fool, Now set thy long-experienced wit to school. (“Luc” 380, v.1818–1820)97

|| 93 He is implied, not named, in v.1609: “COLLATINE and his consorted lords” (“Luc” 365). An ostensively incidental phrase (given in a prior half-line) may yield his distilled bearing: the archetype of Roman virtus is precisely a man set “[t]o talk in deeds” (“Luc” 344, v.1348). 94 Brutus appears to be presaged by the depiction of Ajax and Ulysses in the painting Lucrece peruses: “The face of either ciphered either’s heart; / Their face their manners most expressly told: / In AJAX’ eyes blunt rage and rigour rolled; / But the mild glance that sly ULYSSES lent / Showed deep regard and smiling government” (“Luc” 348, v.1396–1400). These artful lines may well yield the impression that the Roman consul to-be is brutish prima facie—as the Greek warrior mentioned first happens to be in fact. While his inside is politic, wily—like Odysseus. 95 Cf. “Lucretia […] is a private catalyst of political change” (C. S. Kraus 271). Matthes employs said metaphor also (at 71; 79; 86). See Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 10; “Pharmacy [1990]” 40). 96 The context: “BRUTUS, who plucked the knife from LUCRECE’ side, / Seeing such emulation in their woe, / Began to clothe his wit in state and pride, / Burying in LUCRECE’ wound his folly’s show. / He with the ROMANS was esteemed so / As silly jeering idiots are with kings, / For sportive words and utt’ring foolish things. // But now he throws that shallow habit by, / Wherein deep policy did him disguise, / And armed his long-hid wits advisedly, / To check the tears in COLLATINUS’ eyes. / ‘Thou wronged lord of ROME’, quoth he, ‘arise; / Let my unsounded self, supposed a fool, / Now set thy long-experienced wit to school” (“Luc” 379–380, v.1807– 1820). See Dzelzainis (113). Contextually and briefly, Jed (40). 97 Cf. “Brutus may also be unsounded in the sense […] that he has not yet spoken in the poem” (“Luc” 380n.); said hedging might be eliminated (and safely). The eds. cross-reference the line from 3H6 (“Luc” 380n.), but omit the (decisive) context. Richard states: “I […] / Torment myself to catch the English crown: / And from that torment I will free myself, / Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. / Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, / […] / And frame my face to all occasions. / […] / I can add colours to the chameleon, / Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, / And set the murderous Machiavel to school” (3H6. 279–280, III.ii.174, v.179–182,

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His virtuous and virile disdain for those who had always judged him a brute is abysmal.98 The last line cited links to Shakespeare’s ‘Richard’, who says he will “set the murderous Machiavel to school” (3H6. 280, III.ii.193; see 4.1, herein). In the case at hand, a Republican in spe gives the Aristocratically effeminate establishment a meet lesson in statecraft: “‘deep policy’ […] seizes the occasion” (Dzelzainis 113). Crises may be contingent; there are also no chances like them. By contrast to the extended reflections on Tarquin’s part—and those long lamentations or deliberations on Lucrece’s—Brutus speaks but briefly within the limits of this epico-dramatic poem (24 verses: “Luc” 380–382, v.1818–1841).99 Going through the human (e)motions, the lady handles her plight in a strikingly reasonable manner, at the end—hence overall.100 This parallels the lifelong (here extratextual, while narratively insinuated) procedure on the part of Lucius, who plays the fool in order to retain and prepare his ratio for the right time.101 The most significative lines on the latter’s part ensue after the above verses: ‘Why, COLLATINE, is woe the cure for woe? Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous deeds? […] Such childish humour from weak minds proceeds. (“Luc” 380, v.1821–1822 and 1825)102

|| 185, 191–193; see Dzelzainis 110–111). The aforesaid ed. shows that the 1595 Octavo rendered the last line thus: “And ſet the aſpiring Catalin to ſchoole” (3H6. 394, App.1, from the facsimile). Yet it does not seem to signal the orthography in the Folio: “And set the murtherous Machevil to school” (“3H6 [Riverside]” 689, III.ii.193). The gloss ad locum reads: “i.e. teach Machiavelli himself about murder” (“3H6 [Riverside]” 689n.). 1H6 has another spelling variant, referring to “that notorious Machevile” (“1H6 [Riverside]” 625, V.iv.74). The n. suggests: “Machiavelli […] became notorious for expounding political immorality and cynicism” (“1H6 [Riverside]” 625n.). 98 This astonishing and manly emergence from a seeming softness (in the head) aligns with the awingly swift and shocking turn to severity shown by the highly cultivated, tender Lucrece. 99 See Lanham: “Brutus’s late appearance has puzzled scholiasts but it could scarcely be clearer. […] Through his mouth πράγματα not δόγματα finally speak” (108). The critic’s overall reading is routinely, problematically hyperbolic (cf. 94–110): perusals cum grano salis only. 100 Contrast Donaldson (41–43). See Lanham’s evocative view: “The original title page of the poem, which read simply Lucrece, suggests that the poem explores less the rape than the Lucrece her rape reveals” (102). Cf. Lever: “Unlike Ovid, who softened the effects, or Livy, who was concerned with teaching a political lesson, Shakespeare chose to dwell on suffering and wrong” (23). The latter unites both of the former by virtue of his characteristically hypoleptic poetics; and also in terms of mode, function: policy persuasively effected in times of crisis. Never are rhetorical texts monofunctional. Nor is there but one type of recipients. 101 In more than one sense, “Lucrece offers an anthology of deceit” (Dzelzainis 111; plus his observations on “dissimulation”, 112). Cf. N. Vickers: “the word ‘colour’ […] appears more often in Lucrece than in any other Shakespearean text” (107). See Mayfield (Ventriloquism 196n.). 102 The next lines also address Collatine: “Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so, / To slay

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In the wake of his speech, the poem will continue for two stanzas, wherein his oratorico-theatrical impact on the people of Rome is tersely described.103 Lucius’ moving eloquence—combined with the shock and awe of his sudden emergence from brute obtuseness—produce an effect of momentaneous evidentia.104 The result is condensed into the final lines of this highly dramatic poem: “The ROMANS plausibly did give consent / To TARQUINS’ everlasting banishment” (“Luc” 383, v.1854–1855).105 As in a rhapsodic relay, the rhétor takes over from Lucrece—delegated by the latter, effectually speaking in her stead.106 || herself, that should have slain her foe” (“Luc” 380, v.1826–1827). Consummate orator that he is, Brutus adapts his remarks to the audience: he is saying what the husband has to hear—in (t)his spec. situation. To Lucrece, he would have spoken otherwise. For this is what he has been practicing all his (adult) life. Contrast Allen (91); Donaldson (54–55). Cf. Matthes: “politics is the manipulation of what counts as […] real in a particular context […]. Politics is a matter […] of being able to judge whether an artifice will have sufficient ‘reality’ for a particular situation and/or audience” (59; “and alter his image accordingly”, 94). One “must learn how to change” one’s selves “according to how” one’s resp. “words and acts are construed by others” (95). 103 “And to his protestation urged the rest, / Who, wond’ring at him, did his words allow” (“Luc” 382, v.1844–1845). The eds. stress “the surprise effect of Brutus’ self-revelation” (Duncan-Jones/Woudhuysen “Intro.” 54). Cf. “Brutus, Rome’s leader in waiting, takes decisive action. Like Hamlet, Brutus has had to wait a long time for his chance to overthrow unjust tyranny, deflecting attention from himself in the meanwhile by pretending to be mad or foolish” (“Intro.” 53–54). See C. Kahn (273n.); suggestively, Enterline (Body 192; spec. 254n.; 256n.–257n.). The aforesaid will (have to) be taken cum grano salis—as a tentative submission, heuristically indicating partial points of contact. There are significant differences in their resp. ethopoiíai. Even so, one might consult the ensuing: “Tarquinius […] destroyed his own brother Arruns by poison […], in which abominable crime he was assisted by his brother’s wife […], whom this enemy of the gods had even long before debauched” (Dionysius of Halicarnassus 507–509, IV.lxxix.1; with Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 217–222, I.v.34–112). 104 On the “genus admirabile”—resp. “acutum dicendi”—see Lausberg (Elemente 23, §37.1; and 153, §464); with Mayfield (Artful 32; 35; 35n.; 54–55; 55n.; 122; 143; 149; 149n.; 151; 195; 201; 221; 233n.; 263; 286; 298; 366; passim). Said hallmark of L. J. Brutus is also referred to in H5, as the glosses signal (“Luc” 374n.), albeit sans contextualization. In the resp. scene, the Constable of France is talking to the Dauphin thereof: “You are too much mistaken in this king. / Question […] / And you shall find his vanities forespent / Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, / Covering discretion with a coat of folly, / As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots / that shall first spring and be most delicate” (H5. 189, 2.4.30–31, and v.36–40). “Lucius Junius Brutus feigned mental incapacity (Lat. brutus, stupid: hence his attributed name) as a safeguard when plotting to expel the tyrant Tarquinius Superbus, the last king of Rome” (H5. 189n.). 105 The latter being the last word. See this suggestive gloss: “Shakespeare uses banishment(s) 38 times in verse lines; 20 times out of these it is the last word of the line” (“Luc” 383n.). Pace Donaldson’s innocence: “In Shakespeare’s poem, this climax is very subdued, as is the entire political dimension of the story” (43; his construal at 115–117 bypasses the text). 106 Contrast N. Vickers (108). Martinez sees a “translatio”—while qualifying it as “stultitiae”

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The ending is extremely dense. In Shakespeare’s textual economy, Brutus emerges almost out of the blue.107 He immediately wields convincing action in a most critical situation: everyone else is static—stricken with grief, incapacitated by pathetic sentiment and (self-)pity (not least).108 The oration he delivers ad hoc is paradigmatic of persuasive concision. His dramatic hatching from a shell of foolishness is so spectacular that the people are moved by its very theatrics. Tragic events need not conduce to the same. While interfering with human lives or desires (not seldom incisively), contingencies—even the worst—could be seen or taken otherwise: they might be subjected to themselves (so to say). The virtual realm of art sensu lato, and the litterae especially, appear to provide an expedient testing environment, wherein politic options may be aptly simulated, pragmatic potentials feckfully explored—and tentatively applied. It is neither inconceivable, nor unfeasible, for sheer chance or pure elsewiseness to be redirected and rendered productive—also in political respects.109 “The Rape of Lucrece […] has certain sub-literal possibilities” (Allen 96)— indeed.110 Brutus grasps, actively adapts to, the given state of affairs—not only momentaneously perceiving, but also straightway taking, a crisis qua kairós.111

|| (“Pharmacy [1983]” 36; with 41; “Pharmacy [1990]” 66; 71). On sundry forms of ‘ventriloquism’ in Luc, cf. Enterline (Body 152–197; spec. 155–156, 159–160, 164, 170, 173, 179, 181–183, 186–188, 195–197); spec. “these are instruments that have been, and will continue to be, played by other hands or ‘tuned’ by other tongues” (Body 196). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 16n.–17n.; 196). 107 Like a deus ex machina—or so it must seem to everybody. If prepared to adopt the public’s perspective, this archetypical Roman may well appear as a paragon of the alternative (or else, simultaneity) described by the philosopher: ‘either a brute or a god’; in Aristotle’s words: “who is so self-sufficing that he has no need to do so [sc. ‘entering into partnership’], is no part of a state, so that he must be either a lower animal [‘θηρίον’] or a god [‘θεός’]” (Pol. 12–13, 1253a, I.i.12; cf. Mayfield Artful 25; 25n.; 28; 183n.; 198; 238n.; 320n.). Applying the Aristotelian line to Brutus—a philological feat expressly performed by Plutarch (“Publicola” 516–517, VI.4)—the political lesson might be this: only someone capable of being alone, hence beyond the need for (and thus above the socio-emotional pitfalls, the powerful lures of) the pólis, is in fact competent for partaking in its government. By virtue of this decisive modification, the Platonic notion of philosophical statecraft (cf. e.g. Rep. 6–10. 124–129, 519c–521b, VII) would be turned into a pragmatic possibility (rather than a metaphysico-idealistic Nephelokokkygía). 108 See the particularly dramatic rendering in Dionysius of Halicarnassus (486–487, IV.lxx.2). 109 This paragraph is indebted to Küpper’s accent on “lit[erature] [or] art as the area, in which a tentatively enacted [‘durchgespielte’] radical contingency need not have anything disturbing (to be coped with), but can be productive, u[nder] c[ertain] c[ircumstances] also politically[:] there is more than just the tragic solution of seemingly unsolvable conflicts” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020; trans. dsm). 110 Contrast Donaldson (55–56). More blatantly yet: “while Brutus seems to have the last word in the pagan sense, it is really […] Augustine […] who wins” (Allen 97). The idealistic inversion

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7.2.3 Machiavelli’s Mandragola (~1518) ἀνὴρ οὐ φρενήρησ περὶ τῶν μεγίστων ἐπιχειρῶν λέγειν[.] —Dionysius of Halicarnassus (504, IV.lxxvii.1)

With characteristic sobriety (not to say, common sense), Aristotle cites the socio-morally official view that certain “actions and feelings are blamed as being bad in themselves [‘ψέγεται τῷ αὐτὰ φαῦλα εἶναι’]”; hence are not seen to depend on the circumstances, for instance, whether one commits adultery with the right woman, at the right time, and in the right manner [‘περὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα ἐν τῷ ἣν δεῖ καὶ ὅτε καὶ ὡς μοιχεύειν’]; the mere commission [‘ἁπλῶς τὸ ποιεῖν’] of any of them is wrong. […] however […] committed, they are wrong [‘ἁμαρτάνεται’]. (NE 96–97, 1107a, II.vi.18, 20)

Conversant with the contingency of goodness (not to mention that of evil), a Florentine rhetorician was prepared to stage the case in utramque partem—not least “quia non erit impossibile apud Deum omne verbum” (Lk 1:37).112 While Mandragola’s elegant levity and libertinism outperforms that of The Prince (perchance, by far), this eminently stageable, five-act, Aristotelianizing comedy is still (and literally) among the most ‘popular’ (Renaissance) plays of all time.113 “At first glance, […] Mandragola seems to be […] conventional and, in its Florentine […] context, a rather pleasant textual product” (Kilian 28).114

|| is illustrative—enacting the Church Father’s habitual modus operandi in a downright brazen manner. As ever, “men may construe things after their fashion / Clean from the purpose of the things themselves” (Shakespeare JC 187, I.iii.34–35; Daniell’s gloss seems utterly innocent: 187n.; cf. Dzelzainis 110). Needless to say, such is the very condition of possibility for a ‘Brutus’. 111 See the dependable accent in Dionysius of Halicarnassus (e.g. “καιρὸν”, 482, IV.lxviii.2; “καιρὸς”, 484, IV.lxx.1, iterated at 504, IV.lxxvii.4, and at 486, IV.lxx.3, the latter also with the paradigmatic variant “καιρούς”; “καιρός […] βραχύς”, 494, IV.lxxiii.1, again at 506, IV.lxxviii.2; “καιρὸν ὀξύν”, 500, IV.lxxv.3, as well as 501; spec. “ἐν καιρῷ”, plus context, 506, IV.lxviii.1; “καιρὸς”, 518, IV.lxxxii.5). As a commonly obtuse reception of this master of subtle écriture might evince, his mise en abyme of concealing the subversive in a profuse, seemingly easygoing flow of eloquence proved utterly effectual. Cf. subch. 8.5.2; generally, 11.3, herein. 112 “Because no word shall be impossible with God” (DRA). See below; subchs. 11.3.1, 11.3.4. 113 “One of the funniest plays ever written” (Martinez “Pharmacy [1983]” 43; “Pharmacy [1990]” 73; with Lord 808). See Mansfield (“Cuckold” 1; 14–15); Ferroni (116); also Webber (20– 21); Radcliff-Umstead (116–117); Stackelberg (133), here cum grano salis. Atkinson stresses: “Machiavelli’s reputation as a playwright rests on The Mandrake” (13). Contrast Donaldson (94). Should there be any scholarly value in ideological judgmentalisms like O’Brien’s (“a rather drearily unfunny comedy which is […] profoundly misogynist”, 103; spec. 114), it may well be their signaling (malgré soi) that there is more than meets the ear or eye. The play’s downright immoral implications might show a tendency to be sidelined (perchance for generic

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Then again, it “celebrates adultery” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 45; Civic 96).115 Moreover, “Machiavelli is at home in the comic realm, both within his political writings and his avowedly comic works” (“Comic” 59; with 60; Civic 110).116 To him, “comedy was more political” than tragedy, precisely in its “offering the possibility of a world that could be otherwise”—even while showing the latter to be “dependent on the interventions and machinations of mankind” (Matthes 56; see 79).117 Focusing—for the moment—on a basic grid, this may be its plot. Hearing of a beautiful lady, a lad travels far to see her, and immediately falls in love.118 She is married to an older—evidently foolish, or perhaps slightly || reasons, chiefly). As holds good for the reading of Shakespeare’s Lucrece (in 7.2.2), the present essai on, and approach to, Mandragola expressly disclaims comprehensiveness with respect to the source; and as to the (virtually unreckonable) quantity of scholarship or criticism. 114 He adds: “Mandragola maintains the traditional form of Italian comedy” (33). Cf. Geyer (98); Beecher (104); Hulliung: “the play is a genuine comedy arousing volleys of laughter, a lighthearted, indeed a frivolous work” (33). Sumberg: “The plot is excellently comic” (321). “Mandragola is a comedy to the nth degree. The ending could not be happier at whatever level you take the play” (335). It “includes all the habitual Plautine elements” (Cope 6; cf. 15, 98, 100–101, 207n.–208n.). See Singleton (585). Flaumenhaft states the needful: “more palatable […] more publishable” (“Comic” 57; Civic 108). “Laughter is a pretext” (Matthes 55; with 80). 115 “Machiavelli is determined to laugh at everything” (Mansfield Modes 10): “sanza alcuno respetto” (“Discorsi” 56, I[.Pref.]). See Strauss (Thoughts 40); Mansfield (“Cuckold” 1); Mayfield (Artful 109; 197, 197n.). Pitkin appears to nurture appalment: “It is a sordid story” (30; plus “bawdy”, 29); while conceding Machiavelli’s “mordant […] wit” (42). Atkinson’s remark may stead eliciting the consigliere’s abysmal implications: “Adultery was never achieved through passivity” (22). Contrast Mt 1:18–24; Lk 1:35. On the latter, cf. also Ivanova (65–71), whose—only prima facie—bold construal seems decisively too cautious. Machiavelli’s blasphemy runs deep. 116 The play “is effective precisely because it only implies the most unseemly consequences […][;] comedy, by convention, is permitted to treat the most serious matters lightly. Comedy laughs at everything, and the audience laughs too. […] as Machiavelli says in ‘Discourse about Our Language’, the concealed serious lessons of comedy are tasted only after the laughter in the theatre has stopped” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 69; plus 36; Civic 121; 88). See Matthes (53–55); Tylus (660). Contrast Saracino’s moralizing (234, 234n.). Cf. Atkinson: “Machiavelli seized upon comedy as a useful tool” (2; with “manipulation of […] conventions”, 18). Pitkin: “inversion” is “pervasive in Machiavelli’s work” (43; see 44). Said passage: “perché ancora che il fine d’una commedia sia proporre uno specchio d’una vita privata, nondimeno il suo modo del farlo è con certa urbanità e termini che muovino riso, acciò che gli uomini correndo a quella delettazione, gustino poi l’esemplo utile che vi è sotto” (“Lingua” 225; cf. “Language” 188). The bottom line (inter alia): “Being cuckolded is just a matter of perception” (Mansfield “Cuckold” 15). 117 She stresses that “what makes people laugh is contingent and contextual” (57); “the virtù required to produce comedy is much like the virtù demanded of successful Machiavellian actors: it is contingent, contextual and changing” (58). Generally: “Nature is not ordered, determined and stable; it is variable, contingent, an inevitable process of change” (77). 118 Meaning, lust (cf. M [Bonino] 11, I.i; M [Flaumenhaft] 13). He is said to have traveled across

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senile—man, who apparently fails to engender offspring.119 The younger one coopts an (erstwhile marriage) broker, who manages to pass him off as a doctor—gaining him access to the household in question.120 A remedy for the wife’s supposed sterility is found in the mandragola.121 As a byproduct, this cure is said to intoxicate and kill the first person to sleep with a woman to whom it has been administered. Hence an (ideally unwitting) male vicarius (effectively an adulterer) must be introduced, in order to absorb the poison by proxy— thereby protecting a legitimate spouse’s (sexual) health.122 For plain reasons— and despite his being cuckolded in the process—the (ostensively) obtuse husband is (rather) quickly persuaded of this modus operandi.123 To obtain the lady’s consent, the broker coopts her mother and a priest—for purposes of moral (domestic, familial, ancestral), as well as religious (spiritual, civic, public) legitimization.124 Crucially, said mandrake root is never induced as such.125 The

|| Europe: from Paris to Florence (M [Bonino] 10–11, I.i; M [Flaumenhaft] 12–13). See Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 13–14; 35n.; “Pharmacy [1990]” 43–44; 65n.). These textual references are given with a view to the plot’s outline. Perusing the source itself is indispensable. The abstract at hand could be compressed further. Cf. Kilian (28). A tentative précis is tendered. 119 (See e.g. M [Bonino] 12–13, I.i; 22, II.ii; M [Flaumenhaft] 14; 21). 120 (Cf. e.g. M [Bonino] 13, I.i; 20, II.i; M [Flaumenhaft] 14–15; 20). 121 (See M [Bonino] 28–29, II.vi; M [Flaumenhaft] 25; with 25n.). 122 Cf. Atkinson: “a ‘sacrificial victim’ must be found” (16); “a therapeutic lover” (Beecher 105). Matthes stresses: “The mandrake, like the rape [sc. of Livy’s Lucretia], is both a poison and a cure” (81). See spec. Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” passim; spec. 9–10; “the surrogate who is to absorb the toxic properties”, 19; “scapegoat”, “a remedy both virulent […] and virtuous”, 24; with 28, 33, 36–39, 42–43; “Pharmacy [1990]” 39–40; 54; and 58, 63, 66–69, 72–73). 123 (Cf. M [Bonino] 29–30, II.vi; M [Flaumenhaft] 25–26). See Ferroni (88; 93); Mansfield (“Cuckold” 8; 19–20; 27; 29). Contrast Fletcher (300–303). 124 (Cf. M [Bonino] 30, II.vi; 43–47, III.x–xi; M [Flaumenhaft] 26; 34–36). The broker acts as an intra-dramatic playwright, stage director. On the mother’s role: Gerli (131–132), cum grano salis. 125 Cf. “Mandragola is also a cognate of mostrar, ‘to deceive’. Tellingly, the mandrake potion in the play is a ruse; it is never administered” (Matthes 89): “a ruse!” (90)—albeit precisely not “only”. The “pozione” actually sent is “[u]n bicchiere d’ipocrasso” (M [Bonino] 52, IV.ii; plus M [Flaumenhaft] 41)—with a patent, paronomastico-semantic (hence performative) allusion to ‘ipocrisia’; and to an—apparently not unusual—spelling of that famed physician. As to the Celestina, an anonymus logs: “creo que avia de dezir Hyppocras […] Se a de dezir Hyppocrates. Fue un medico excellentissimo cuyas obras son muy notorias que en qualquiera parte son tenidas” (C Comentada 10–11, 14r, I.9a; cf. 404, 177r, XIV.151; the former re Rojas C [Severin] 88, I). Construals as displace this very factor—there being only the resp. word, while no mandrake, in the play—will be beyond reckoning (most blatantly: Radcliff-Umstead 126). See Machiavelli’s prologo: “Far conto non si de’ delle parole, / né stimar qualche mostro, / che non sa forse s’ e’ s’è vivo ancora” (M [Bonino] 7, Pro.; M [Flaumenhaft] 11). Said and varied repetitions at the surface of the signifiers—precisely via elision—is most significative: ‹sa›, ‹-se›, ‹s’ e’›, ‹s’è›.

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young man, disguised as a random someone from the street, is maneuvered into the lady’s bed—supposedly acting as a ‘pharmacological scapegoat’; factually taking pleasure in her (body).126 She evidently enjoys the change in company and capacity; and so persuades her husband to keep the fake doctor (meaning, her lover) close by, as a member of the household—effectually perpetuating the affair on her own terms.127 In the last scene, the Church (impersonated by the cunning priest) gives its official approval to the whole charade.128 The play concludes “with a deceit that must be continued” (Mansfield “Cuckold” 27).129 To facilitate comparison, several details or indirections—including the names—have been left out so far.130 Simply adding that of the female protagonist would suffice not only to suggest the Borgias, but also the Roman myth at issue.131 The lady is obviously called Lucrezia (the husband Nicia, her lover Callimaco, the broker Ligurio, her mother Sostrata).132

|| 126 (See M [Bonino] 29–30, II.vi; 61–63, IV.ix; M [Flaumenhaft] 26; 46–48). 127 (Cf. M [Bonino] 70–72, V.iv; M [Flaumenhaft] 52–53). “[I]n […] Mandragola, Machiavelli did not simply recycle the formula of Roman comedy. He also extended it, transforming it from a means of portraying successful plots into a mechanism for encouraging them” (Fletcher 299). 128 (See M [Bonino] 73–75, V.vi; M [Flaumenhaft] 54–55). Sumberg avers: “This last scene is outrageously irreverent” (328). Mansfield stresses “Machiavelli’s provocative blasphemies in this play and elsewhere” (“Rational control” 42). See Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 51–52); Pitkin (43). Martinez logs: “Timoteo […] will unite Callimaco and Lucrezia in holy adultery” (“Pharmacy [1983]” 31; “Pharmacy [1990]” 61). Di Maria has: “the friar may also be seen as an instrument of society” (147); said hedging seems quite dispensable. Cf. Thomas: “The careful cultivation and appearance of religion is crucial for the plot’s success. Appearances must be maintained” (191). Mansfield accentuates: “‘Ordered virtue’ must allow a break in the ‘order’, in what the classical political philosophers called nomos, and use religion to sanctify, that is, conceal, the break” (Modes 417, 417n.; with “Rational control” 40–41). Cf. M. T. Clarke (250; 252). Generally, see Blumenberg (“Staatstheorie” 128). Mansfield adds: “Consider the action of […] Mandragola, in which the sanctity of marriage is preserved by being first violated and then restored with a concealed repair” (Modes 417n.). Cf. Trüstedt: “Bei Machiavelli wird auch die Theatralität als ein fundamentaler Bestandteil der Macht-Ökonomie explizit” (“Schiffbruch” 104). With Nietzsche: “die Staatskunst muss unterhalten und verführen” (KSA 7. 800, 34[26]). 129 Comparably, Beecher logs “the institutionalizing of a permanent state of deception” (111). 130 The mandragola solution is itself a substitute for the initial plan (cf. M [Bonino] 13–14, I.i; 13n.; M [Flaumenhaft] 15). It consisted in luring the married couple into the baths (allegedly to treat infertility)—where the lad would have had easier access to the lady(’s bed and body). 131 On certain implications of said nexus, see Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 57; Civic 108); BehuniakLong (267); Wright (156); Ivanova (68–70, 69n.–70n.), cum grano salis. 132 To say naught of Frate ‘Timo-t(h)eo’ (cf. Kainz 202, noting “den Zynismus, mit welchem Machiavelli die Namen seiner Protagonisten gewählt hat”). See Behuniak-Long: “Machiavelli chose a name for his young female character beset with conflicting connotations” (266). Cf. Aristotle: “in tragedy they adhere to the actual names”; for “the possible seems plausible”; “in

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This state of play concerns Machiavelli’s positional refunctionalizations, when taking into account the tale’s ‘basic’ (Roman) versions.133 By recourse to Flaumenhaft’s most expedient wording: “in all [of] Machiavelli’s writings, we must attend to the revisions as well as [to] the revivals” (“Intro.” 3).134 Unlike Tarquin’s rape of Lucretia—occurring in times of war, characterized by (relative) immediacy, force, violence—Mandragola is almost entirely about indirection and fraud, precisely due to its being set to take place under highly cultivated conditions: “mantenere la reputazione” (M [Bonino] 65, V.i), above all.135 Such entails keeping up appearances forever; while engaging with a

|| some tragedies there are only one or two familiar names, while the rest are invented, […] in certain plays no name is familiar” (“Poetics” 61, 1451b, IX). Obstinately, Pitkin spells the Florentine’s heroine with a ‹t› (cf. e.g. 29–31; 44; 47; 111–113; uncorrected even in that new ed.). 133 Thereto, see the readings and insinuations given above; spec. in subch. 7.1.2, herein. 134 Cf. and contrast Pitkin (48). Pertinently, Matthes accentuates: “Mandragola is not only a rewriting of Livy’s story […], but […] also a rewriting and commentary on other Lucretia stories in circulation during the Italian Renaissance” (59; for the reworking of Livy: 61, 66, 72, spec. 74–75, 80–85, 87–88, 91; as to the latter, cf. Martinez “Pharmacy [1983]” passim; spec. 9–20, 23–28, 33, 35–36, 40; “Pharmacy [1990]” 39–40, 53–58, 63, 65–66, 70; also Ivanova 70n.; the context is problematic; Sokolov 80). In particular, Matthes logs “Machiavelli’s mockery of both Coluccio Salutati’s humanist and […] Augustine’s Christian interpretations of the story of Lucretia” (52; see 53–54, 59; for his reshaping of Augustine, 66–71; as to that of Salutati, 72– 76). Cf. “In Mandragola, Machiavelli plays […] also with […] Augustine’s commentary upon that story” (Donaldson 90; plus “skilfully parodies”, “subtly recalls”, 91; “parodying the arguments of Augustine”, 92; “this comically inside-out version of the story”, 93; as passim, his context is utterly problematic: here at 93–94). Cf. Kainz (212); Ivanova (65n.); and spec. Flaumenhaft: “In Machiavelli’s comedy, as well as in his political writings, the claim to newness must always be understood in relation to something old” (“Intro.” 1; see “Comic” 33–35). He “tacitly comments on Livy’s version of Lucretia […][,] omits all of the passionate outrage found in Livy […]. There is no anger about the violation […][.] In shifting the emphasis, Machiavelli says seriously in the political treatise what the play depicts comically: chastity, like the other moral virtues, is a matter of political prudence, to be judged according to the situation” (“Comic” 44; with Civic 95–96; cf. Matthes 87). “Machiavelli gives us revised versions of characters from old books. Perhaps his boldest innovation is his presentation of an unholy family in the act of conception. […] In Machiavelli’s renaissance and renewal, men who know this world rely on themselves alone, not on hopes of being saved” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 54; with Civic 105–106). 135 Naturally, conflict looms in peripheries; the play stages socio-cultural forms of warfare. Cf. Fleisher: “All this is accomplished by inganno” (378; with 377). Flaumenhaft: “In the new version of the siege of Lucretia, nothing is accomplished by coercion” (“Comic” 38; plus 63; Civic 90). Mansfield: “seduction is not altogether without force; it does not use ‘open force’” (“Cuckold” 4). Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting as to the “Affinität von Gewalt, Rhetorik und Erotik” (“Mythos” 43; with 42; “Glauben” 25–26). See Strauss: “The hero […] saves himself by means of a series of deceptions” (Thoughts 284; plus his reading of the play, 284–285). Cf. Matthes (64).

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number of others for any self-interests one might have.136 As Hulliung observes: “Machiavelli wrote a book entitled the Art of War, and in his comedies he came close to rewriting Ovid’s Art of Love” (49).137 From onset to end, this subtle comedy concerns various forms of delegation and deceit: “Mandragola […]—a world of foxes” (Pitkin 46; with 63, 80).138 Even so, everyone also receives what they desire: “a Machiavellian arrangement of mutual self-interest” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 54; Civic 105); a “brazen success” (Cope 8); “a tour de force of comic harmony” (Martinez “Pharmacy [1983]” 21).139 Callimaco takes pleasure in Lucrezia(’s body).140 She substitutes a virile young lover for her aging husband.141 Nicia gets a—supposedly legitimate—heir || 136 See Matthes: “We are left to judge from appearances” (90; with 66, 82). 137 Cf. Fleisher (371; 373; 377–378); Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 40–41; 57; Civic 109); D’Amico (263); Pitkin (“love is war”, 112; with 113–114); Tylus (663–664); spec. Kainz: “In der Liebe und im Krieg sind alle Mittel erlaubt – in diesem Sprichwort finden die Komödie und die politischen Werke zueinander” (198). See also Martínez Torrejón (167; 173). 138 Pitkin’s milieu is suspect. The above will not entail: “All of the various conspiracy theories put forward by the interpreters of Mandragola have a certain credence” (Palmer/Pontuso 130). Cf. Thomas: “everyone is better off as a result of deceit” (192). Beecher logs: “Mandragola is, in effect, one sustained beffa, or trick, that moves with inexorable efficiency towards a single climax” (104). As to “delegation”—albeit in a restricted sense—see Vilches (121; and her title). 139 (Cf. “Pharmacy [1990]” 51; a “felicitous cooperation of flagrant self-interest”: “Pharmacy [1983]” 21; “Pharmacy [1990]” 51). See Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 39–40); Palmer/Pontuso (129); Vilches (108); Matthes (60); Thomas (183; 192–193); Radcliff-Umstead (132), cum grano salis. Contrast Donaldson’s “innocence” (93). As to the “mercantile culture”, from which Machiavelli emerges, wherein he writes, see Jed’s concise account (117–120; with 113; here: 117). Cf. Kilian: “the decisive difference between the two texts is the tragic failure of reason in Celestina and its comic, yet amoral success in Mandragola. […] all of Rojas’s characters lack the virtù they need in order to prevail against fortuna, whereas Callimaco and his companions use their virtù against fortuna with infallible efficacy” (29). The drift should be apt; the hyperboles due to a thetical context. Adding the requisite nuances, it will have to be said that Celestina is surely a virtuosa—outwitting Týche during a rather long life (cf. subch. 6.6.2). Death being as contingent as inevitable, there is no need to read her capacity only in terms of the curtain call—in which Chance and herself seem to have a (more or less) equal hand. Cf. “Fortune is insurmountable not because all people are intellectually incapable of adapting to its vicissitudes, but because they lead finite existences. Individuals grow old (or sick) and die, as do republics” (Lukes 34; with 39, 42, 44–45, 47). In Machiavelli’s play, there are setbacks; some (or plenty of) unfinished business remains. Not least, “too much of a good thing arouses suspicion” (Sumberg 335). 140 As Beecher stresses, “the seducer ends up her [sc. Lucrezia’s] servitor and sperm donor” (108); “he is but a sperm bank to the future and is utterly disposable thereafter” (111). 141 Lucrezia “happily adapts to an adulterous life” (Pitkin 47); “no doubt because feeble old Nicia has never really initiated her” (136). Cf. Matthes (83, 83n.; 89); Beecher: “she is being offered a practical and sustainable alternative to her husband” (106). Vilches logs: “Lucrezia has much to gain, […] very little to lose” (119); the immediate, overall context cum grano salis.

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withal.142 This is also the mother’s objective. Ligurio procures free food and lodging; the priest that ‘one thing needful’.143 In his Early Modern variant, Machiavelli wholly refunctionalizes the Latin myth.144 Extortion and duress are superseded by guile, persuasion.145 Cultural indirection, rhetorical craft, displace physical violence, war.146 As signaled in a (seemingly contingent) wording on Shakespeare’s part—“by force, by fraud or skill” (“Luc” 336, v.1243)—all of these (most natural) options are already implied in virtually any version of the tale (as a matter of course or plot).147 || 142 He may have bargained for more: Fleisher (379); Kilian (28; 33); Geyer (99); Matthes (89, 89n.); Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 35; “Pharmacy [1990]” 65). Pace Atkinson (“ironically”, 17). 143 See Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 49; 52–54). Hulliung: “All are inclined to transgress, but some transgress better than others” (43). With Spitzer, Singleton logs: “the Friar […] most observes the passing of time, when […] he should be the one most unconcerned with just that” (585n.; cf. Flaumenhaft “Comic” 49). Beecher focuses on “Ligurio[,] the trickster [,] […] as the virtuoso of expediency and […] exploitation of occasion” (108; cf. 112–113; spec. “cynical, pragmatic”, 112). 144 See Blumenberg (in general): “Grenzbegriff der Arbeit des Mythos könnte sein, was ich den Absolutismus der Wirklichkeit genannt habe; Grenzbegriff der Arbeit am Mythos wäre, diesen ans Ende zu bringen, die äußerste Verformung zu wagen, die die genuine Figur gerade noch oder fast nicht mehr erkennen läßt” (Arbeit 295). 145 Generally, cf. Isocrates (“Panegyricus” 143, 48.40; 147–149, 50.48–49); Cicero (“De Inv.” 4–7, I.i.2–I.ii.3); Niehues-Pröbsting (“Glauben” 25–26, 28, 33, 37). See ch. 13 (spec. 13.5), herein. 146 War is mentioned as a (diachronic, incl. catalytic) backdrop (M [Bonino] 10, I.i; 36, III.iii; with M [Flaumenhaft] 12; 30). It remains outside the play’s temporal frame (quasi 24 hours: M [Flaumenhaft] 48, IV.x; cf. 48n.; M [Bonino] 64; Martinez “Pharmacy [1983]” 12; “Pharmacy [1990]” 42; Atkinson 17). On the former, see Sumberg (322); Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 36); D’Amico (270); Kainz (199). The setting is urban—Firenze, here; though not necessarily: “this is your Florence; / another time it will be Rome or Pisa” (M [Flaumenhaft] 9, Pro.; with M [Bonino] 4). 147 See Cicero (ex negativo)—referring to law: “The question arises […] whether agreements and promises must always be kept, ‘when’, in the language of the praetor’s edicts, ‘they have not been secured through force or criminal fraud [‘NEC VI NEC DOLO MALO […] FACTA SINT’]’” (De Off. 368–369, III.xxiv.92). This might be read together with the ensuing: “there are two ways of settling a dispute: first, by discussion [‘per disceptationem’]; second, by physical force [‘per vim’]; and since the former is characteristic of man [‘hominis’], the latter of the brute [‘beluarum’], we must resort to force only in case we may not avail ourselves of discussion. The only excuse […] for going to war is that we may live in peace unharmed” (De Off. 36–37, I.xi.34– 35). On ‘vis aut (sc. et) fraus’, see Machiavelli: “vincere o per forza o per fraude” (Principe 52, VII.43; with 55n.; plus ch. XVIII in its entirety, 115–120; cf. 115n.–116n.; and Mayfield Artful 111; 114n.; 118n.; 123; 125; 127; 133; 137; 140; 141n.; 143n.; 144n.; 152n.; 174; 192n.; passim). Strauss stresses: “Machiavelli has no moral or other objections to pious fraud. […] trusting in the credulity of most men, he preserves the shadow of the established[,] or at least of the ancient[;] or ‘retains the name’ while abolishing the substance. By adapting himself to the opinion of the people, he imitates Brutus who, in order to liberate his fatherland, played the fool by speaking, seeing, and doing things against his opinion” (Thoughts 168; with Mansfield Virtue 229; Pitkin

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Withal, the Florentine’s peculiar rendering might severally exemplify what Blumenberg observes in general: We are familiar with the […] literary phenomenon that [the] violence and audacity of the [‘]corrections[’] and torsions find their distinguished incentive precisely with regard to the historically most ‘successful’ mythologems. (Arbeit 192–193; trans. dsm)148

In Mandragola, the characteristically Machiavellian shift of emphasis affects all levels. Like Tarquin, Callimaco is initially incited by hearing of the lady (visual and haptic modes follow). By contrast, he is ready to wait for his chance; and able to coopt others for bringing about such an opportunity. Most importantly, nothing happens against the Florentine Lucrezia’s will.149 Not only is her explicit consent obtained prior to the act. She herself is said to validate the affair afterward, by actively ensuring its continuation.150 As Matthes observes: || 42–43). Cf. the former’s pertinent observation: “rhetoric [‘is’] but written fraud […]. Machiavelli seems not only to comprehend the writer’s rhetoric under fraud, but to have it in mind more than any other kind of fraud” (Virtue 61). See V. Kahn: “Machiavelli’s own rhetorical virtuosity dramatizes the virtù of his ideal prince. Chapters 7 and 8 stage a characteristically Machiavellian coup de théâtre, in which Machiavelli’s rhetorical force and fraud are central to his innovation in political thought” (Machiavellian Rhet. 26; cf. Wiethoff 153, with 161). 148 “Das […] literarische Phänomen ist uns vertraut, daß gerade an den geschichtlich ‘erfolgreichsten’ Mythologemen Gewalttätigkeit und Kühnheit der [‘]Berichtigungen[’] und Torsionen ihren ausgezeichneten Anreiz finden”. Mutatis mutandis—i.e. more crudely—that should hold true (if not good) for ideologico-criticistic construals as appear to have a proclivity for violating texts beyond recognition. Hardly the only such, O’Brien’s is quite illustrative: “the wolfishness of the comedy is overstressed […]. Having tasted the pleasure of virile sexuality in this rape which her husband, mother, and priest all press upon her, Lucretia develops an insatiable, voluptuous lust for Callimaco, and her virtue sinks beyond trace” (115). Whichever text (if any) the critic might have read to produce her construal, it was not Machiavelli’s. Pitkin also speaks of “the violated wife” (47). Generally, see Martínez Torrejón (167, 167n.–168n.). 149 Cf. Martinez: “in Mandragola, an economy of seduction and accommodation replaces the catharsis of heroic violence in ancient Rome” (“Pharmacy [1983]” 30; “Pharmacy [1990]” 60). See Lord (811); Kainz (204). Contrast Geyer (99; the context is highly problematic). Thomas has: “While the historical Lucretia is raped by force, which leads to the ruin of a political order (and the building of a new republican order), […] Lucre[z]ia is seduced, by fraud, which also leads to a new order. Only, in Mandragola the appearance of the old order is maintained. Moreover, by maintaining the appearance of the old order, and utilizing hypocrisy or fraud, this is all carried out peacefully” (190). See Sumberg (322; 325–326; 328); Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 19; “Pharmacy [1990]” 49); Cope (159); Tylus (“the seductive opportunities theater offers”, 668); Matthes (82–83; 85; 90–91; 96)—spec. “seduction is a mastery of signs” (90). 150 The lover reports her ensuing statement (effectually a sermocinatio): “Poiché l’astuzia tua, la sciocchezza del mio marito, la semplicità di mia madre e la tristizia [sc. ‘malvagità (tristo è cattivo moralmente)’] del mio confessoro mi hanno condutto a fare quello che mai per me

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seduction […] is for Machiavelli quintessentially political. […] Seduction suggests also the contingency of political action, the uncertainty of outcome and the continual need to adjust to the vicissitudes of circumstances. (91)

Hardly only in this regard: naught will be more persuasive than pleasure.151 In Machiavelli’s play, an affirmative Lucrezia acts like the pragmatic Lucius. She adapts to the contingent situation at hand, bringing about a decisive shift in the state of affairs—meaning, the ‘government’ of her ‘house’.152 Yet such occurs sans any of the savageries reliably involved in revolutions or regime changes: at the metalevel, that may well be the more general message of Machiavelli’s method—as staged in this particular ‘reworking’ of the myth.153 The Roman Lucretia is already a political actor. A fact latent in various versions is elicited via a decidedly Machiavellian refunctionalization.154 Whether || medesima arei fatto, io voglio giudicare che venga da una celeste disposizione, che abbi voluto cosí, e non sono sufficiente a recusare quello che ’l Cielo vuole che io accetti. Però, io ti prendo per signore, patrone, guida: tu mio padre, tu mio defensore, e tu voglio che sia ogni mio bene; e quel che ’l mio marito ha voluto per una sera, voglio ch’egli abbia sempre. Fara’ti adunque suo compare, e verrai questa mattina a la chiesa, e di quivi ne verrai a desinare con esso noi; e l’andare e lo stare starà a te, e potreno ad ogni ora e sanza sospetto convenire insieme” (M [Bonino] 71–72, V.iv; with 71n.; and M [Flaumenhaft] 52–53, 53n.). Cf. Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 18–19; “Pharmacy [1990]” 48–49); D’Amico (269); Mansfield (“Cuckold” 26); Matthes (89–90; 92). Also Behuniak-Long (269–270), cum grano salis. Contrast Saracino (“im Stich gelassen”, 233; “bittere Einsicht”, 285). However the matter of Callimaco putting words into Lucrezia’s mouth may be: the factual state of affairs—which she sanctions by virtue of her actions—puts her in control and charge of the situation. She is “the mistress of” her “fate” (in Shakespeare’s formulation for his heroine: “Luc” 323, v.1069). Cf. Barber (450; 458–459). 151 See Aristotle, in general (NE 112–113, 1109b, II.ix.6). Also Radcliff-Umstead (6); Atkinson (“voyeuristic pleasure”, 31); Fleisher: “Quite simply, to give pleasure you must make people laugh; people are moved to laughter […] by dialogue which is foolish, malicious, or amorous; […] to produce laughter it is necessary to present characters who are foolish, given to malice, or in love” (369). Perchance, it is not always ‘quite’ as ‘simple’. For some might not even begin just to smirk, until “a scene is almost beyond laughter” (Singleton 591). Then again: “There is no more complex pleasure than thought” (Borges “The Immortal” 192, IV; see “El inmortal” 234). Not to mention “the pleasures of spinning a plot and manipulating and deploying people in accord with it—the gratification of outsmarting all the others” (Pitkin 32; plus Beecher 113). 152 (Cf. “atta a governare un regno”, M [Bonino] 16, I.iii; with M [Flaumenhaft] 17). Generally thereto, see Ferroni (104; 107); Pitkin (44; 47; 111–112); Matthes (91–92; 94); Tylus (“to end the play in control of its theatrical dynamics”, 669); Ivanova (66); D’Amico: “In the private world[,] she proves to be the most astute and, perhaps, Machiavellian character in the play. She converts momentary satisfaction into a new order” (268). 153 Indebted to an affine remark by Küpper (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; April 30, 2020). 154 Contrast Elshtain’s—textually unfounded—ideologizing: “What emerges from Machiavelli is […] [that] a ‘good’ woman […] is not to share in public (im)morality” (94). “Women are

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by virtue of thánatos or éros, the lady’s deed—supplying brute evidence (in a rhetorico-forensic sense precisely)—sustains whatever follows.155 Her body—qua corpse or incubator—is the condition of possibility for the (political) ‘midwifery’ on the part of Lucius (or Lucrezia), which ‘deliverance’ produces a ‘Republic’.156 In virtually mythological words: should there be a wolf at hand, there are other ways of handling her than holding her by the ears (see 13.3.2, 13.5, herein). Apparently like the Ancients, the Florentine calls Brutus the “father of Roman liberty” (Discourses 212, III.1.6).157 Mandragola may well be staging its || nonpolitical and so are men in their private capacities” (95). That the critic is generally innocent of the author she presumes to explicate may be patent from her value judgments, positing “Machiavelli’s bleak denial of a social view of human nature” (96); his “ability to combine a fatalistic pessimism with a voluntarist will to power” (97)—a curious tautology that hardly helps her case (if there be such). The climax of untenability occurs when Elshtain declares “relatively unimportant” the Florentine’s treatment of Lucretia, and comparable accounts in the Discorsi: “The passages […] are unimportant theoretically” (98, 98n.). Whichever text(s) the critic might have ‘perused’, it cannot have been Machiavelli’s. As an expedient antidote to the above, see M. T. Clarke (passim; here spec. regarding “a stunning combination of courage, foresight, craftiness, and deceit”, 242; cf. 247, 247n., 254). 155 Pace Saracino: “Der Kontrast zur altrömischen Lucretia […] könnte kaum größer ausfallen” (233). While he does notice “de[n] politische[n] Subtext von Machiavellis Komödie Mandragola” (199; also at 233–234), said critic’s value judgments (e.g. “perfide[s] Komplott”, 233; cf. 285, 380) and moralizations (“hält dem Zuschauer […] einen moralischen Spiegel vor”, 234; to say nothing of ‘pedagogics’, 234n.) enshrine a certain innocence. Little wonder that he cannot come to terms with the “Lucretia-Motiv” (“verwirrend”, 234; by implied expectations: “Entzauberung”, 233; “Statt einer gerechten Strafe”, 234). 156 Cf. this down-to-earth take: “Mandragola troubles us in a more lingering and challenging way […] as a stark representation of the sometimes heterodox and undisclosed strategies of human reproduction. This […] is a play about the raw schemes for seeking accessible, highquality seed […]. That is much closer to the bone than anything he [sc. Machiavelli] could have said about the prince under the guise of a carnival seduction tale” (Beecher 110). Cf. subch. 2.1. 157 See Valerius Maximus, especially: “L. Brutus, gloria par Romulo, quia ille urbem, hic libertatem Romanam condidit” (Memorable. I–V. 532, V.8.1). Cf. Machiavelli (“Discorsi” 196, III.i); with Mansfield (Modes 305), who adds: “Machiavelli treats the rape of Lucretia as a mere ‘accident’ used by Brutus against the Tarquins” (Modes 391; see Discourses 217, III.5). The scholar observes: “Machiavelli urges us to believe not only that Brutus was ambitious for himself but also that he wished to crush the kings and liberate his native country” (Virtue 278; plus Discourses 213–214, III.2). Cf. Strauss: “He begins the discussion with Brutus, the father of Roman freedom. Did Brutus too act with a view to his private advantage? According to Machiavelli, Livy explained Brutus’ simulating stupidity by Brutus’ desire to live securely and to preserve his patrimony under the oppressive rule of a king. Machiavelli however thinks that Brutus was moved to his course of action also by his desire to liberate the fatherland. Machiavelli claims then that he makes Brutus more public-spirited than Livy had made him”; he has thus “opened, with the support of Livy’s authority, the question of the selfish motive of

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female protagonist qua embodied hybrid of the decisive and politic actors in the Latin tale: a ‘Lucian’ Lucretia rediviva et mutata.158 Even with the (abysmal) latencies lodged in the glosses, the above but slightly scrapes the surface; could not cover all parallels, reworkings, inverted complementarities. Mayhap, a certain ground swell will appear even so. Catalyzed by sundry contingencies (accidents, passions, chances taken), the myth depicts a highly critical situation—acutely perceived, advantageously exploited, by one (wo)man’s virtue and virtuosity: every crisis a kairós.159 Mandragola stages a superficially dissimilar, basically comparable setting. Therein, various personal predicaments hold sway, as well: deviant desires for another body, their socially illicit fulfillment; (impossible) hopes for offspring, riches. Such coveting likewise leads to self-interested action on the part of those involved: albeit with a tactical—hence ultimately spatio-temporal—difference.160

|| the most famous patriot” (Thoughts 275). On L. J. Brutus in the Discorsi (spec. Discourses 213– 218, III.2, III.3, III.5; also 45, 47, I.16.4; and I.16.6; 48, I.17.1; 212, III.1.6), see Mansfield’s authoritative study (Modes 305–317). A manifest blunder (apparently calling “Collatinus […] Lucretia’s father”) might signal that Brutus “would” by no means “have appealed” (Modes 315; again at 316; with 10). Her father is called Spurius Lucretius Tricipitinus (cf. Livy Ab Urbe Con. I–II. 203, I.lviii.6; with 207, I.lix.8). In addition to chs. III.2 and III.5 (Discourses 213, III.2; 217, III.5), Lucretia is also mentioned in the one entitled “How a State is Ruined Because of Women” (Discourses 272–273, III.26), where Machiavelli adopts the autocrat’s viewpoint, rhetorically: “As has been seen in this history of ours [sc. Livy; by implication, also the Florentine’s treatment thereof], the excess done against Lucretia took the state away from the Tarquins” (Discourses 273, III.26). See Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 43); Jed (3); Matthes (71). 158 Not altogether dissimilarly, Ancient versions log a simultaneity of (apparently) ‘male’ and ‘female’ elements in Lucretia; cf. e.g. Valerius Maximus (Memorable. VI–IX. 2, VI.i.1); Dionysius of Halicarnassus (516–517, IV.lxxxii.3); Ovid (“animi matrona virilis”, Fasti 118, II.847; with Martinez “Pharmacy [1983]” 25; 40; “Pharmacy [1990]” 55; 70). Said scholar pertinently observes: “Lucrezia is the cynosure” (“Pharmacy [1983]” 10; with 19; “Pharmacy [1990]” 40; and 49; see Cassius Dio, as per Zonaras 7.11, 78–79, II.11.10). Cf. Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 46; 49); Matthes (67; 69n.; 70; 82; 94–95)—spec. “Foremost, she is not what she seems” (94). Cf. Wright: “Lucrezia maintains the reputation of a pious and virtuous woman, even after she commits adultery; not only among the public who know nothing of the scheming which has occurred, but brilliantly, even among those who do” (151; with 152). “Lucrezia is indeed perceived differently by different characters in the narrative” (158). Contrast Bernard (79–80), and Radcliff-Umstead (125; 126n.; 128), whose immediate and overall context is highly problematic. 159 See Mansfield: “Prudence can be said to differ from virtue in not necessarily being visible: prudence is shy[,] but virtue must show itself so as to be impressive. Junius Brutus is called prudent for pretending to be stupid” (Virtue 41; cf. 229; re Machiavelli Discourses 213–214, III.2). 160 “Machiavelli’s people are characterized by an overriding concern for themselves. The play demonstrates this structurally. Many scenes begin or end with one of the conspirators spying on or doubting the loyalty of one of his fellows” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 41; see 42; Civic 93).

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Reckoning with perspectival, positional contingency, everyone seems ready to take into account the egotism of others; and attain to his or her ends by indirect—meaning, cultivated—routes or measures.161 In the Roman narrative, Brutus and Lucretia appear to handle their respective situations or accidents in an expediently ad hoc manner. Machiavelli’s protagonists adapt to coincidences and circumstances they have been catalyzing—and actively shaping—all along. Humanist readings may tend to have a feedback effect, as well.162 Withal, a sýnkrisis of Ancient and Early Modern versions might highlight considerable latencies. If Mandragola is a drama about deceit indeed, Nicia’s rather manifest foolishness could come under suspicion: “outstanding stupidity also permits […] a certain freedom” (Mansfield “Cuckold” 6).163

|| 161 What Bernard affirms for “Ligurio”—that he “has the capacity to […] imagine himself in another’s skin” (83)—may be applied to other protagonists, as well. Cf. Kainz (206); Matthes (58; 68)—spec. “Political acumen […] requires adjusting the position from which one looks” (68). Generally, see Blumenberg: “Der Hemmungs- und Umwegcharakter aller Kultur ist primär Umweg über den anderen” (Beschreibung 879). “Goethe sagt: Die Menschen denken nur ausweichend! Ausweichen gehört zur kulturellen Prozeßform, zur Struktur der Umwegigkeit in der Kultur, die auch Umgehung von Konfrontationen ist – auch von solchen mit sich selbst” (Beschreibung 630; see Goethe, as per Riemer, in: Biedermann 710, §595). “Nur wenn wir Umwege einschlagen, können wir existieren. Gingen alle den kürzesten Weg, würde nur einer ankommen. Von einem Ausgangspunkt zu einem Zielpunkt gibt es nur einen kürzesten Weg, aber unendlich viele Umwege. Kultur besteht in der Auffindung und Anlage, der Beschreibung und Empfehlung, der Aufwertung und Prämiierung der Umwege. […] Umwege sind es […], die der Kultur die Funktion der Humanisierung des Lebens geben. Die vermeintliche ‘Lebenskunst’ der kürzesten Wege ist in der Konsequenz ihrer Ausschlüsse Barbarei” (Blumenberg Sorge 137; cf. Realität 127–131). “Nicht jeder erlebt alles, wenn auf Umwegen gegangen wird; dafür aber auch nicht alle dasselbe, wie wenn auf dem kürzesten Weg gegangen würde. […] Die Welt bekommt Sinn durch die Umwege der Kultur” (Sorge 137). Most pertinently, he speaks of the “Barbareiverschonungssystem, genannt Kultur” (Sorge 138). In other words: fraud above all. See subch. 11.1.2; more generally as to the above, also ch. 12, herein. 162 Cf. Matthes on “what is pivotal in […] life—accommodations to change. Texts must alter and be altered as circumstances vary. […] Machiavelli’s readings of the past are part of his writing of the present” (74). See subch. 7.3, herein. Close perusals merit being given the same. 163 It may well look rather like that on the part of Brutus. Cf. Mansfield (“Cuckold” 4–5; 28– 29); Ferroni (99–100); also Palmer/Pontuso (125, 127–131; as to Brutus, 130; passim), cum grano salis. See Sumberg (337); Matthes (51)—above all: “there is reason to suspect […] humility” (52). One might read Beecher’s felicitous formulation against his (ostensive) grain: “Messer Nicia may represent brutalized humanity” (108). Contrast Di Maria (144); Kilian (32–34, 32n.). Cf. Blumenberg (de re): “Vakanzen werden allemal besetzt” (Arbeit 269). “Vakant werdende Stellen müssen wieder besetzt werden” (“Wirkungspotential [2001]” 383). See Mansfield: “In the Art of War […] and in Machiavelli’s comedy Mandragola […], ‘ancient virtue’ is used as a spur to his contemporaries. Of his major works only The Prince does not contain the phrase”

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Hence something remains to be expected, after the play’s twenty-four hours have ended happily: “hilarity is gregarious, rarely solitary” (Nichols “Laughter” 376).164 The former need not exclude the latter—this might be that exception.165

|| (Virtue 9); “in all things, the present age / falls off from ancient virtù” (M [Flaumenhaft] 11, Pro.). Nicia’s very name will hardly help against said intimations: a manifest reference will be ‘Nikías’—implying the Greek goddess of victory (cf. Sereno 56; Kainz 202). At once: “His name ironically suggests that he will be a loser” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 37; Civic 89). “Nicia is not so simply a loser as his name might at first suggest” (“Comic” 40; Civic 91). See spec. Martinez (“Pharmacy [1983]” 41, 41n.; “Pharmacy [1990]” 71, 71n.); Saracino (233), cum grano salis. Withal, it would hardly be beyond Machiavelli to simultaneously pun on Latin nescius, literary Italian ‘nèscio’—making the name a speaking one, as in the case of Brutus. Cf. “O[ld]F[rench]. nice silly, simple = Pr[ovençal]. nesci, Sp[anish]. necio, It[alian]. nescio :– L[atin]. nesciu-s ignorant, f[ormed on]. ne- NE+sci-, scīre know” (Onions et al. 609; s.v. ‘nice’). “Probably before 1300[,] nyce[,] foolish or ignorant […]; borrowed from Old French nice silly, from Latin nescius ignorant” (Barnhart/Steinmetz 703; s.v. ‘nice’). As always, Strauss: “Lucrezia’s husband” is “a foolish lawyer whose name reminds us of a most virtuous and pious general” (Thoughts 284). 164 Contrast Pitkin (47; 101; who seems to contradict herself at 111, 136). Cf. Kainz (214); D’Amico: “the balance is precarious” (269). Beecher: “Comedy may never get more serious than this” (111). Cope: “The ending is harmonious because there is no ending” (6). Matthes: “The comedy […] has an unresolved ending with the potential for the resolution not to remain happy” (79); “unlike other Renaissance comedies, […] Mandragola does not make everything known to everyone in the end” (70; plus 78–79, spec. “an unfinished contingent plot”, 78). Cope: “The effect is a play more cynical than carnivalesque” (5; “Florentine cynicism”, 7; with 103–104, 106). Cf. Martinez (“a sly and cynical fable of […] accommodation”, “Pharmacy [1983]” 20; “Pharmacy [1990]” 50); Beecher (“prevail through pliancy”, 107). The latter asserts: “no more cynical a plot of its kind has ever been devised” (with “playfully diabolical”, 106; “Machiavelli’s cynicism”, 111). Mansfield logs: “It is not always to one’s disadvantage to be duped” (“Cuckold” 19). The Frate states: “Egli è vero che io ci sono suto giuntato; nondimeno, questo giunto è con mio utile” (M [Bonino] 42–43, III.x). In Kilian’s words: “deceit may have its utility, even for the person deceived” (31). Cf. Thomas (187). Considering the intradramatic “loose ends” (Sumberg 321; with 323, 325; similarly, Singleton 589–590; Lord 806)—as well as any of the pertinent (Ancient, Early Modern) intertexts (incl. Machiavelli’s own œuvre)—Nicia will hardly seem the most likely choice in said respect (being the most obvious). Needless to say, deception need not be limited to a single protagonist. As a (general) rule, “Machiavelli’s writing is polysemous” (Palmer/Pontuso 131n.). Above all: “What he says must always be considered in the context of what he could say” (Flaumenhaft “Comic” 57; see Civic 108). 165 Nicia may well be “maintaining a self-image” very “much at variance with fact” (Nichols “Laughter” 380; infinitized). Nor he alone.

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7.3 ‘Speaking to the Present by Way of the Past’ Hase de hablar a los presentes en los passados. —Gracián (Oráculo 217, §210) Dichtung […] [ist] nicht national, sondern menschlich. —Blumenberg (reformulating Böttiger, Arbeit 91)166

This overall chapter’s conclusion focuses on the rhetorico-inductive elicitation of general or universal potentials from given specifics. While decidedly taking into account—hence conserving—cultural accomplishments (diachronic feats or sayings on the part of human beings), literature need not, and does not, remain at the level of particulars.167 Like oratory, its equally artful ‘sibling’ is “more philosophical” than history (Aristotle “Poetics” 59, 1451b, IX).168 Problematic developments—especially of an ideological and quantifying sort—might seem to have maneuvered the Humanities into getting lost in vast seas of disparate details.169 Even so, this condition is neither terminal, nor

|| 166 “Literature [or: poetry sensu lato] […] [is] not national, but human” (trans. dsm). Böttiger’s context: “Dabei kennt der Dichter kein Vaterland, keine Parthei. Das Gedicht kann jenseits des Rheins mit so[lcher] […] Theilnahme durchgenossen werden, als disseits. Es sind menschliche, nicht Nationalscenen. Es kann so gar in alle Sprachen übersetzt […] werden” (84). Cf. “das Vergangene überschauen und daraus […] Mahnungen und Weisungen für die Zukunft empfangen” (Blumenberg zur Literatur 303). Amslinger refers to the latter as “Meisterdenker von Potentialitäten” (221). Trimpi stresses “‘literary discourse’” in terms of “its potentiality for analyzing human experience” (“Reason” 103). Generally, see subchs. 5.1.3 and 11.1.2, herein. 167 Not to mention a fashionable (being narcissistic)—while no less slavish—adherence to dates and names. Nor psychologico-biographistic (ultimately metaphysical) speculation about ‘subjective’, ‘individual’ motives (let alone feelings, ‘inclinations’, ‘belongings’ or beliefs). 168 See the n. in 7.2.1. Cf. Trimpi: “In rhetorical discourse[,] generality usually refer[s] to the extent of applicability to particular instances […]. Rhetorical discourse […] locate[s] its particular, circumstantial issue in a broader context” (“Ancient” 5; with Muses 7). On the (Early Modern) nexus of poetics and rhetoric, see Mayfield (“Interplay” 9n.–10n.). 169 Cf. Trimpi: “Too exclusive a preoccupation with the exhortatory (rhetorical) intention has reduced literary works to displays of eloquence or ideology, too exclusive a preoccupation with the cognitive (philosophical) intention to the didactic transmission of information, and too exclusive a preoccupation with formal (mathematical) excellence to ‘aesthetic’ expression for its own sake” (“Reason” 103; also “Mimesis” 204–205). Likewise Kablitz: “Der problematische Status dieser Disziplin[en] äußert sich nicht zuletzt in der Ausbildung von dominant selbstreferentiellen Begrifflichkeiten, wo nicht Sprechweisen, die weit mehr der Markierung der Zugehörigkeit zu einer bestimmten theoretischen Observanz als einer Verständigung über den Gegenstand […] zu dienen scheinen – und deshalb ihre weitgehende Dunkelheit für die Uneingeweihten recht sorglos in Kauf nehmen” (Kunst 11; infinitized; plus 26n.–28n.).

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irremediable.170 A decided focus on quality—precisely as sedimented in, hence potentially emerging from, a flood of otherwise unrelated information—will ever be requisite.171 Needless to say, the former simultaneously is, and is not, for all. In less political words: no age can afford an innocence of periods as may be considered seminal for a respective present. Heuristic and intensive recourse must be had to preceding constellations—in theory, fact, and deed. Renaissance discourses have proven downright foundational—as well as dependable—for the corresponding arts of a New Millennium. The former maintain (if not display) a tendency to cope with current states of fragmentation, predicament, crisis by virtue of a time-honored (being politic) strategy—as also happens to be of outstanding expediency in performance: ‘speaking to the (and those) present in terms (by way and virtue) of the past’.172 Specific data invite attempts at extracting their more general import. Such a rhetorico-inductive method might itself be the message.173 Any given—whether fictive or (supposedly) factual—could conduce to reading the universal plane implied therein: proceeding from the detailed and various to the global.

|| 170 See Trimpi: “The history of practical criticism consists to a large extent of attempts to resist the reduction of literature to its didactic ‘philosophical’ function, to its circumstantial and hortatory ‘rhetorical’ function, or to its purely formal ‘geometric’ function” (“Quality” 2). 171 Cf. “Quality introduces a generic consideration into a particular case and fictional hypotheses are useful where quality is concerned: the implication is that fiction may be a good means for investigating the generic implication of any particular situation” (Trimpi “Ancient” 26n.; with Muses 34n.–35n.). See Mayfield (Ventriloquism 20–24; spec. 24, 24n.); and subch. 4.3. 172 With Gracián’s context: “Saber jugar de la verdad. Es peligroso, pero el hombre de bien no puede dexar de dezirla: aí es menester el artificio. […] con una misma verdad lisongea uno y aporrea otro. Hase de hablar a los presentes en los passados” (Oráculo 217, §210; cf. Mayfield Artful 234, 234n.). See Schopenhauer’s most pertinent rendering: “D i e W a h r h e i t z u h a n d h a b e n v e r s t e h n. Sie ist ein gefährlich Ding: jedoch kann der rechtliche Mann nicht unterlassen sie zu sagen. Hier bedarf es nun der Kunst: […] sie kann mit derselben Wahrheit dem Einen schmeicheln und den Andern zu Boden werfen. Man handle die Sache der Gegenwärtigen in der der längst Vergangenen ab” (Nachlaß IV.2. 223, §210). Said poetics offers a possible blueprint for any contemporary extraction from (the West’s) ‘cultural networks’. At any rate, this is precisely how Ovid, Augustine, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, et alii ‘take up and tie in with’—rework, recycle, or ‘renovate’—the myth of Lucretia and Brutus. Cf. Sumberg (331); Flaumenhaft (“Comic” 35; Civic 87); Matthes (54; 62; 64); generally, Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim). Nothing prevents further refunctionalizations by virtue of, and recourse to, any of the versions in (virtual) floatation within the vast fund of the studia humanitatis—incl. additional variations on previous transformations. Cf. subchs. 7.1.1 and 13.3.2, herein. 173 Thereto, see also subchs. 5.1 (spec. 5.1.3) and 5.2, herein.

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With respect to the myth of Lucretia and Brutus, one such elicitation may well be this. From the contingent stance and angle of the immediately involved, any time of—personal, communal, civic, demographic, medical, economic, even worldwide—crisis will ever appear to be the most problematic possible. Yet precisely said state of affairs might be refunctionalized with a view to other (perchance, ulterior) ends—which need not necessarily seem exactly or altogether immoral.

8 Otherwise. Rhetorical Techniques of Contradiction (Remarks on Quintilian, Augustine, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Gracián) Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes). —Whitman (77, §51, v.1324–1326)1 The well-bred contradict other people. The wise contradict themselves. —Wilde (“Phrases” 433)2

The fact that matter may be else has manifold effects for an animal capable of conceiving, conveying this state of play or affairs.3 Not only is life susceptible of changing abruptly, shifting randomly, varying arbitrarily. To a considerable degree, contingency also holds sway over how things appear—counting those alterations per se: they might be otherwise; no longer; or not the case at all. By experience, humans are able to discern that others—like themselves—are subject to the vagaries of chance. This opens up the possibility of attributing the products of methodical processes to fortune; of redescribing deliberate actions as coincidental; of ‘fabricating’ apparent “accidents” (Strauss Thoughts 220).4 Yet not only the effectual results may vary; notions tend to differ; opinions diverge; the moods and whims of most will swing. As views vacillate anyway—if simply for reasons of positional contingency, elemental interpersonal nonidentity—techniques for swaying them ad votum have ever appealed to the mighty; or rather, to those with a corresponding will.5

|| 1 See Valéry’s significative variation on said theme (as qtd. in: Amslinger 174; cf. spec. 181– 182). Alford stresses “Whitman’s expansive and consuming poetics, the panoramic reach of his poems’ attentive scope” (Poetic Attention 36; plus “poetics of […] self-contradiction”, 37). 2 Cf. Beckett’s notorious line: “That’s the idea, let’s contradict each other” (Godot [1982] 70, II). “C’est ça, contredisons-nous” (Godot [2010] 218, II). 3 See Aristotle (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11); with subch. 3.5; plus the onset of 4, herein. 4 Cf. “the true and that which resembles it come under the purview of the same faculty [‘τὸ τε γὰρ ἀληθὲς καὶ τὸ ὅμοιον τῷ ἀληθεῖ τῆς αὐτῆς ἐστὶ δυνάμεως ἰδεῖν’]” (Aristotle Rhet. 10–11, 1355a, I.i.11). On crafting chance: “An event brought about intentionally is an accident for those […] who did not intend it or foresee it. […] accidents happen not only by accident; they can also be fabricated […][;] if one fabricates […] accidents, one must prevent the people who are to be deceived from coming close to those accidents. […] a wise prince ought to imitate Fortuna” (Strauss Thoughts 219–220). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 155–156); and subchs. 3.1, 6.5, 7, 13, herein. 5 On the former, see ch. 12; on the latter, ch. 13 (spec. 13.3, 13.5), herein.

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Then again, the decided advantage of the respective set of skills is its polypurposive functionality—their basic transferability: “quae eadem etiam contra valent” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 3–5. 114, 3.7.25).6 Generally speaking, the lateral tool of language is free for all. Just as its rudimentary use may be acquired by almost any human body and mind, so a sophisticated employment can never be excluded in an (o)rational animal tending to advance plus ultra in all things.7 Fortunately, the arsenals of rhetoric are at everyone’s disposal (potentially). Their copious supply will accommodate all preferences—be they for coaxing or conquering; moving or rationalizing; confuting or asserting; insinuating or trumping; for the plainspoken or grandiloquent; or any of the shades between. Not only does the art par excellence aid in ‘discerning’ the same (in others, or one’s own noetico-linguistic conduct); rhetoric is a practicable—the viable— ‘antidote’ to itself also, and as well.8 Being “a method […] at once descriptive and subversive”, “argument on both sides of a question” is “exemplary in its flexible response to contingency” (V. Kahn Machiavellian Rhet. 238).9 Based on a human capacity for elseness, the profuse field of eloquently refined gainsaying might seem an expedient choice for provisional tillings.10

|| 6 Freely: ‘(devices) as also work the other way withal’. Rhetoric is a ‘supra-art’: “not confined to any special science [‘ἐπιστήμης ἀφωρισμένης’]” (Aristotle Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.1; plus 12–13, 1355b, I.i.14; 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1; 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7). See Küpper (“a trans-generic system of diction – rhetoric”, Discursive 289); Mayfield (“Interplay” 5–10). Cf. the onset of ch. 4; and 4.3. 7 See Aristotle: “both [sc. ‘rhetoric’, ‘dialectic’] have to do with matters that are in a manner within the cognizance of all men and not confined to any special science. Hence all men […] have a share of both; for all, up to a certain point, endeavour to criticize [‘ἐξετάζειν’] or uphold an argument, to defend themselves or to accuse” (Rhet. 2–3, 1354a, I.i.1). Cf. subchs. 3.6 to 4.3. 8 This syndicates Blumenberg (“Rhetorik lehrt, Rhetorik zu erkennen”, “Annäher. [2001]” 423), Niehues-Pröbsting (“Gegen Rhetorik hilft nur Rhetorik”, “Ethos” 345). Cf. Schopenhauer (“Eristische” 675, Dial.B2[5]); Kahn (Prudence 157; 181); subchs. 11.1.3, 12.3, 13.1. See Aristotle: “it would be absurd if it were considered disgraceful not to be able to defend oneself with the help of the body, but not disgraceful” to be incapable of defending oneself by “speech [‘λόγῳ’] […], whose use is more characteristic of man than that of the body” (Rhet. 12–13, 1355a–b, I.i.12; Freese’s trans. may seem too zeugmatic; the intercalated clarification is tendered with Roberts, “Rhetorica” 1355b; see his n.; plus these versions: Rhet. [Kennedy] 35; Rhet. [Krapinger] 10–11). 9 (Cf. Machiavellian Rhet. 8; 24–25; 42; 48–49; 54; 58–59; passim). She stresses “the early humanists’ […] insistence on […] rhetoric in utramque partem as the model of cognition and action” (“Resistance” 388). As to Hobbes, see Kahn (Prudence 154–161; passim). Pertinently, she logs his “attempt to turn the authority of the Church and of Scripture into rhetoric and contingency” (Prudence 160). On said nexus, cf. Sloane (Contrary 10); Eden (Rhet. Trad. 8; 27n.; “Augustinian” 57n.); Enterline (Body 21); Mayfield (Artful 98; 159). Cum grano salis, Gaonkar’s problematic entry (“Contingency [2001]” 151; 153; 156–158). Cf. ch. 1; as well as 4.5, herein. 10 “[O]rator[s] should be able to prove opposites [‘τἀναντία δεῖ δύνασθαι πείθειν’]”—so “the

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8.1 Variants of Contradiction in Measure for Measure If we are prosecuting, we have first to confirm our own positions, and then refute [‘refutanda’] those which are brought against them. If we are defending, we have to begin with the Refutation [‘refutatione’]. However, fresh Objections [‘aliae contradictiones’] arise from the answers that we make to Objections [‘quae contradictioni opposuimus’] […]. The Process goes on and on [‘Quae ratio et ultra ducit’]. —Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 496–497, 5.13.54)

In the long fifth act of Measure for Measure, Shakespeare’s protagonist Isabella offers a rhetorico-forensic narratio of the overall case—after the (supposed) fact. Her statement may be taken as virtually amounting to an intratextual (and metadramatic) précis of the play as a whole: In brief, to set the needless process by— How I persuaded, how I pray’d and kneel’d, How he refell’d me, and how I replied (For this was of much length)—the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother; and after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother’s head. (MM [Lever] 130, V.i.95–106)11

|| […] state of the case may not escape us”; and “to counteract [‘λύειν’] […] arguments” (Aristotle Rhet. 10–13, 1355a, I.i.12; cf. Met. 1–9. 433, 1046b, IX.ii.2–3; 435, IX.ii.4–5). 11 (See MM [Eccles] 242–243, TLN 2459–2469; 242n.). The technical term “confutes” (referring to ‘con-’, resp. ‘refutatio’) looks back to the equally rhetorical “refell’d” six lines before (MM [Lever] 130, V.i.97, 103; Lever’s gloss does not indicate said dependence, 130n.). For the latter (“refelli”), see the anonymus (Rhet. ad Her. 28, I.ix.16; 76, II.vii.10); Cicero (De Orat. I–II. 448, II.lxxxi.330, “refellemus”); Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 324, 5.1.2, “refellenda”; 468, 5.13.3, “refellit”; Inst. Orat. 6–8. 20, 6.1.6, “refelli”; 126, 6.4.5, “refellenda”; 230, 7.3.25, “adprobando refellendoque”; Inst. Orat. 11–12. 214, 12.1.34, “refellamus”); Augustine (“Retract. II.69” 2, “refellunt”; 4, “refelluntur”). With Eden (“Refutation” 56n.; 64n.); Skinner: “‘refeld’—a word Shakespeare never uses again” (Forensic 9n.; cf. Spevack 1046). The former reads this passage as a “judicial narrative” (Forensic 190; see 191–193); logs its “lucidity”, “brevity”, “summary style […] without […] any extraneous information”; while granting that Isabella “does her best […] to create an air of likelihood”—the latter being the most challenging in this spec. case (Forensic 191); as well as generally. Skinner does not seem to treat MM in his ch. on refutation,

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To solicit the sparing of Claudio’s neck and life, his sister Isabella had come before Angelo—acting as the Duke’s juridico-executive Deputy. This results in the magistrate’s repudiating her (“refell’d”), initiating a sustained back-and-forth (accentuated by her iterative syn- and paradigmatic parallelisms) between judge and interceding party. Their exchange involves further, and reciprocal, contradictions: as Isabella implies (“For this was of much length”); and the second act, scenes two plus four, had demonstrated— audio-visually and indeed—to the play’s extra-dramatic recipients.12 Yet this is not the end of refutations. For the pleading sister states that, given Angelo’s immoral proposal (of ‘yielding her chaste body to his lust’), the “debatement” (more pro et contra) had continued in the virtual forum of her mind (so to speak).13 In this (literally self-contradictory) internal court, Isabella’s dutifully alter-related love (“My sisterly remorse”), and her psychosomatic, social integrity (“mine honour”), are quasi-personified as mutual antagonists, with the former successfully countering (“confutes”) the latter—or so she says.14 || concerned with non-artificial proofs—i.e. physical witnesses, tokens qua tangible evidence, etc. in RJ, Oth, AW (Forensic 269–290; but cf. 174n.). See the n. on craftfulness, below. 12 (Cf. MM [Lever] 40–51, II.ii.25–187; 53–65, II.iv.1–186; MM [Eccles] 79–98, TLN 767–950; 102–123, TLN 1002–1201). For a rhetorico-declamatory view, McNeely (197–202; spec. 199, 201). 13 As Fineman logs, a comparable dynamics is at play in Shakespeare’s epic poetry: “Tarquin and Lucrece both speak the same language, a point, already clear enough from the equivalent tonalities and diction, the shared motifs, the stichomythian back-and-forth rhythms, through which the two of them conduct their formal argument, in utramque partem, pro and contra rape” (186; with 190). Contrast Donaldson (40–43; 46–47; 56). See also subch. 7.2.2, herein. 14 Cf. “J’ai mes lois et ma cour, pour juger de moi, et m’y adresse plus qu’ailleurs” (Montaigne Essais III. 39, III.ii; with Essays 613, III.2). On “the internal ‘forum’ of the mind”, see Eden (Fiction 6); Mayfield (“Interplay” 32n.; in a Cervantine context: “Against” 17). Generally, cf. Foucault concerning “Meletē” (“meditatio”)—“anticipating the real situation through dialogue in one’s thoughts” (“Technologies” 239). In (Late) Antiquity, said interior debate (of an initially forensic cast) tends to be melded with the idea of psychomachia—already signaled in Pauline theology (see Rom 7, spec. v.15, 19–21, 23); advanced in striking language by Prudentius: “Light and darkness with their opposing [‘variis’] spirits [‘spiritibus’] are at war [‘pugnant’], and our two-fold being [‘duplex substantia’] inspires powers at variance [‘distantes’] with each other” (342–343, v.908–909). Shakespeare’s playwrighting may display a spec. tendency to invoke or allude to worldly transformations of earlier (Medieval, religious) conventions of dramatic representation (both of the aforesaid references, plus the latter observation, are indebted to Küpper; comment on the ms. of the ch. at hand; Oct 23, 2017). Cf. Lever: “traditional methods had their part in Shakespeare’s development, and were never entirely given up” (24). As to psychomachia in Early Modern Spanish drama, see Küpper’s opus magnum (Diskurs-Renovatio 77–79; 90; 98; 111n.; 157; 224; 239; 250; 403–405; 432; 434; 441; Discursive 68–69, 68n.–69n.; 80–81; 87–88; 101, 101n.; 103n.; 148; 215; 230n., 231; 241n.–242n., 242; 397–399; 401n.; 427n.; 429–430, 429n.; 434n.; 439). Crafting evidentia for the (intratextual) audience, Isabella’s salient

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For—in this particular respect—Isabella is outright contradicting, inverting everything she had uttered and done before. In fact or effect, her overweening sense of honor had refuted any fellow feeling. Contrary to expectation, this whole affair fails to end in tragedy—as its plot would otherwise suggest. The sole reason for this is a dux absconditus, who turns out to have been a veritable presence via his habitual praxis of incessantly substitutive scheming—with a doting Mariana willingly giving her body to Angelo in Isabella’s stead; and a dead man’s head standing in for Claudio’s. That long last act (and scene) in Measure for Measure has the structure of a play (within the same), stage-managed by the sovereign in each, every detail— including rehearsals before. As part of the latter, the Duke had primed Claudio’s sister in the following way (as per her reported speech): Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange, for ’tis a physic That’s bitter to sweet end. (MM [Lever] 123–124, IV.vi.5–8)15

In rhetorical terms, the respective technique tends to be referred to as always arguing ‘also on the other side(s)’ of any conceivable case, quaestio, or issue at hand and stake (as here); with Quintilian’s formula: speaking “in utramque partem vel in plures” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.1), a process involving arguments pro et contra—often serially, hypoleptically, reciprocally so. In Isabella’s rendering of the sovereign’s words, she also indicates a general instrumentality of this procedure (qua means to an “end”)—which he (or she) colors with a moralistic commonplace (being “bitter” for the better). Speech may reflect the fact that matters might be otherwise (or not at all).16 || (dramatically effective) concetto of internally personified (while apparently not hypostatized) antagonists seems to coalesce the forensic and psychomachic—steaded by an ever agonal take on rhetoric (see subchs. 8.2, 8.3.3, 8.5.2). In so doing, she accommodates culturally inflected assumptions about internal affairs as are likely to be familiar to those present (extratextually, as well). Intra-dramatically, the use of this imagery serves the purpose of rendering plausible something that (as recipients know) has not in fact occurred. Honor—an effect of cumulated appearances—was ever already Isabella’s overriding interest. Said supposed contest—and sequent confutation—between two personified motives is invoked (hence rendered ‘evident’) in the appresenting minds of those in whose presence this eloquent novice is speaking. 15 (Cf. MM [Eccles] 232–233, TLN 2330–2334). Skinner seems to skirt this (plainly rhetorical) passage. See Budd: “the Duke’s speaking ‘on the adverse side’ at the opening of the trial of Angelo finds a counterpart only in [Cinthio’s] Epitia” (724)—one of the Italian sources for MM. 16 The present ch. focuses on artful techniques of rhetorical refutation—spec. ‘contra-diction’

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Heuristically, these segments from Measure for Measure serve as waymarks, steading the task of tendering a tentative account apropos rhetorical techniques of contradiction. In discourse historical respects, the above will simultaneously signal the cultural relevance—or prevalence—of oratory in Early Modern lives and texts, entailing reference to the art’s foundational significance in Antiquity. More specifically, the play’s assorted terms for gainsaying may suggest the expediency of a taxonomic précis (“refell’d”, “debatement”, “confutes”, “speak against”, “the adverse side”). Withal, premeditated—even procedural—acts of contradiction are critical in rhetorico-forensic praxis. Related thereto, a ‘pro et contra’ could take place virtually, in one mind—with latent, lateral implications. The variants of contradiction encountered in Shakespeare’s play may yield provisional guidelines for further subchapters—as concern the cultural roles of Ancient and Early Modern oratory (8.2); tender a synopsis of terms, usages, techniques relating to the realm of gainsaying (8.3); discuss the functionality of argument in utramque partem with a view to a rhetorical poetics of contradiction (8.4); submit case studies on Augustine, Machiavelli generally, Gracián more specifically (8.5); and conclude with respect to the stealing of thunder (8.6).

8.2 Cultural Roles of Wordcraft in Ancient, Early Modern Times Contradictions should be scrutinised as with refutations in argument [‘ἐν τοῖς λόγοις ἔλεγχοι’], to see whether the same is meant, in the same relation, and in the same respect. —Aristotle (“Poetics” 134–135, 1461b, §25) Both the student in training, in the exercises known as declamations, and the experienced lawyer, in preparing an actual case, work through all the grounds for and against the defendant, continually refining their strategies for making and overturning the same arguments. —Eden (Rhet. Trad. 8)17

|| (meaning: in words). A classic, quasi ‘meta-artificial’ proof (being deictic, with utter brevity) is logged in Boswell’s tale of Johnson’s contradicting Berkeley’s Idealism by booting a stone with the words: “‘I refute it thus’” (qualified as evincing “alacrity”, Boswell 97, Aug 1763; also in: Blumenberg Sorge 55). For a similar (entirely verbal) case, see Kant’s rejecting affinity to the same as above with a “Bei Leibe nicht!”; as per Blumenberg, likely a rejoinder to an anecdote wherein Berkeley is said to have hit his head, only to be mocked with the words: “‘Oh, Sir! it matters not’” (qtd. in: Begriffe 108; with Sorge 56; and “Glossen [1983]” 39; see “Bei Leibe nicht der höhere [sc. ‘Idealismus’]”, Kant “Prolegomena” 252n., and 252, Anhang, A204). 17 Winterbottom’s gloss: “Declaimers constantly raised and answered imaginary objections” (in: Seneca the Elder Controv. 1–6. 385n. at 3.Pref.12). Bonner states: “The same [declamatory]

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Grounded in its reckoning with contingency, rhetoric is enabled to be the art of effectual contradiction, as well.18 This—typically contentious, also generally controversial (even contrarian)—tendency relates to its discursive history in two critical respects. First, there is the téchne’s factual development from forensic procedure(s)—including their methodical elaboration, (Hellenistic, later panEuropean) cultural dissemination by a variety of (neo-)Sophistic movements.19 Secondly, the all but ceaseless dispute with its second-born sibling must be stressed: philosophy emerged in uneasy (while not always negative) response to—or, more frequently, by outright contradicting—the former.20 Bers précises a scholarly consensus relating to the first aspect: “Sophistic and rhetoric cannot be separated from each other in any simple way” (192n.).21

|| speakers often debated the same theme both for and against, in Latin and then in Greek, and it was a sign of ability to adopt the more difficult side” (51). Cf. subch. 8.5.1, herein. 18 Sloane calls “rhetoric […] a coordinate art of contentio” (“Education” 169); and speaks of “disputation as the contrarian exercise par excellence” (Contrary 121). See Villwock: “The antithetical tension also denotes a characteristic trait of the Scholastic type of thinking” (735; trans. dsm). On the Medieval development in this regard, cf. Marti (“Disputation” 873–875); and spec. Nichols: “a manuscript may be made to take the form of a scholastic disputatio, in which an initial work makes statements that the following texts dispute or seek to refute” (“Anxiety” 15). For similar, written (and printed) processes during the (Counter-)Reformation, see Dietz: “as an offshoot of the academic praxis of disputation[,] a strictly dialectical literature of written polemic [develops], in which the opponent’s arguments are cited and refuted section by section” (1402; trans. dsm; cf. Neumann 274–276); comparably, during the Enlightenment (see Dietz 1406; with 1408, for Lessing’s practice; also Neumann 280; as to Gottsched, Rieger 1448). Neumann speaks of a “cultivated culture of conflict” (277; trans. dsm). 19 On the “quaestio quae rhetorices origo sit”, see Quintilian, arguing for an inductive onset (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 20, 3.2.1; plus 20–23, 3.2.1–3). As to the art’s grounds in forensic oratory—by recourse to Aristotle, with spec. regard to drama—cf. Eden (Fiction 9–19; on refutation, 14–15; Rhet. Trad. 10n.; “Refutation” 63). See Sloane: “the conceptual model of Ciceronian/Erasmian rhetoric is forensic oratory” (Contrary 82). M. Kraus detects an “unbridled thirst for litigating [‘Prozessierlust’] on the part of the Athenians” (12; trans. dsm). Villwock logs: “A[ntithesis] represents the bridge between rhetoric and dialectic. Not only does this hold good in systematic respects, but also historically with regard to the rhetorical origin of dialectical thinking. Developing the capacity to expound the reasons both for and against [‘Gegengründe’] any view belonged to the main objectives of the formal rhetorical educational program, […] represented by the Sophistic [movement]. […] Dialexeis (duplex speeches) and antilogies (counter-speeches) testify to the value […] assigned to the antithetical form of thought. A[ntithesis] here takes center stage in an overall conception of rhetoric that[,] above all[,] conceived thereof as the art of ‘disputare in utramque partem’ (discussing bidirectionally)” (725; trans. dsm). Cf. Fuhrmann (Die antike Rhetorik 22), as cited in subch. 8.4, herein. 20 Generally and diachronically thereto, cf. IJsseling (passim; spec. 7–25); plus the n. below. 21 H. Gomperz stresses “the close relationship of the Sophistic [movement] […] to rhetoric”

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In the nineteenth century, Burckhardt states: “The art of rhetoric branches off from the sophistic” (Griech. Kultur. III. 302; trans. dsm). In the twentieth, Curtius logs: “Greek rhetoric developed together with and by way of the sophistic” (74; trans. dsm). Likewise, Blumenberg refers to “the sophistic” movement “with its culture of rhetoric” (Höhlen. 618–619; trans. dsm).22 Oratory is the condition of possibility for said interest group—and its distinctive characteristic.23 As to the second point—that (sometimes latent, ever present) antagonism between those noetico-nominal siblings, decisively shaping the past two and a half millennia of Western intellectual history—Gagarin stresses: our view of early […] Greek rhetoric has been strongly influenced by the hostile attacks levelled at it and at the sophists in general by the philosopher Plato[;] but recognition of this fact has not eliminated the influence[;] and Plato’s criticism continues to shape our understanding of the formative period of Greek rhetoric. (46)24

|| (“Sophistik” 29; trans. dsm; with 27, 31, 33; Sophistik 42; cf. 41, 44–46); and the “professing [‘Bekenntnis’] of a rhetorical culture” (“Sophistik” 28; trans. dsm; Sophistik 41): “The formal rhetorical character of the Sophistic explains” what “the individual Sophists” ‘share and what differentiates them’ (“das Gemeinsame und […] Unterschiedliche”, “Sophistik” 33; trans. dsm; Sophistik 45). Cf. M. Kraus (3); Neumann on “the Sophistic movement and […] rhetoric”, which the former “rendered the most influential power in educational respects [‘Bildungsmacht’]” (267; trans. dsm): “The conflict [‘Widerstreit’] between philosophers and orators […] continues throughout the Hellenistic and Roman period[s] in [their] entirety” (268; trans. dsm). 22 See Blumenberg (Unbegrifflichkeit 83); and ch. 11 (spec. 11.1.2, 11.1.3, 11.2.2), herein. 23 For Sophists as an ‘interest group’, cf. H. Gomperz (“Berufsgemeinschaft”, “Sophistik” 27; with 28–29; Sophistik 40; and 41–42); Classen (14; plus 4n.). Somewhat offhandedly, M. Kraus calls them “a comparably colorful circle of intellectual figures with rather manifold interests” (1; trans. dsm). Guthrie speaks of the ‘Sophists as a professional class’ (cf. The Sophists 35– 38)—resp. of their “professionalism” (The Sophists 37)—and gives its catalyst: “the spread of democracy was creating the demand which the Sophists claimed to supply in their capacity of professional educators” (The Sophists 20); “[t]hough some of them taught many other things as well, all included political advancement in their curriculum, and the key to this, in democratic Athens, was the power of persuasive speech” (The Sophists 38; plus 39, 44–45, 50, 176, 181, 211, 272); “the democratic freedom of Athens favoured the rapid rise of rhetoric in practice” (The Sophists 182n.); “rhetoric is par excellence the democratic art” (The Sophists 179). Cf. Burckhardt (Griech. Kultur. III. 318); Fuhrmann (Die antike Rhetorik 37); M. Kraus (6). 24 Gagarin aims “to show that early Greek rhetoric did not suffer from the faults attributed to it by its most vehement critic[,] Plato” (64). Sloane speaks of “the rhetoric-hater Socrates” (Contrary 3)—i.e. as per Platonic ethopoiíai. In the ‘Modern’ centuries (soi-disant), rhetoric’s arch-antagonist has severally shifted its modus operandi to furthering a (still) fashionable neglect of the art: Ramism, the Enlightenment, Romanticism—spec. its artless recidiva— renewed or exacerbated this enduring tendency (cf. Sloane Contrary 279n.). Still, Villwock’s ensuing insight is critical (if oft-ignored): “For the new discipline of aesthetics[,] coming into the inheritance of Ancient rhetoric in the 18th c[entury], a[ntithesis] gains central importance in

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Nuancedly, Blumenberg appreciates “rhetoric” qua “institutionalized antitype to philosophy” (Unbegrifflichkeit 83; trans. dsm). He chronicles an “elementary antagonism” (“Staatstheorie” 128; trans. dsm), while accentuating that “[t]he hostility against the Sophistic” movement on the part of (Plato’s) philosophy “was based on the proximity to it: on the narcissism of the slightest difference” (Höhlen. 189; trans. dsm).25 Emphasizing the ‘educative formation’ of the “Sophistic” interest groups and the “rhetorical education […] emanating from” them, Niehues-Pröbsting frankly contradicts a cliché otherwise widely held; indeed, the form of “rhetoric institutionalized […] by Isocrates dominated Ancient education to a far greater extent than philosophy” (“Glauben” 15; trans. dsm).26

|| the definition of its key categories […][—][aesthetic] taste [‘Geschmack’], wit [‘Witz’, ‘sense of humor’], the genius, the beautiful and the sublime [‘das Erhabene’]” (744–745; trans. dsm). 25 See Aristides (549, §315); with and pace Plato (“Gorgias” 293, 457A). Cf. Blumenberg on “the elementary antagonism […] contained in the establishment of the metaphysical tradition: Plato’s demonization of the Sophistic [movement], his averting of rhetoric by means of philosophy” (“Staatstheorie” 128; trans. dsm). In terms of dispositio as well as elocutio, he accentuates that “the Platonic dialog is no less in the vein for rhetoric than the Sophistic lecture, against which it competed in literary terms” (“Annäher. [2001]” 407; trans. dsm). Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (“Mythos” 26–27, 38, 40–41); plus subchs. 11.1.2, 11.1.3, herein. Classen stresses that “Socrates and his students, not least of all Plato himself, were also called σοφισταί by their contemporaries or later Ancient authors” (3; trans. dsm; see M. Kraus 2). With relish, Lucian speaks of “that crucified sophist himself [‘τὸν δὲ ἀνεσκολοπισμένον ἐκεῖνον σοφιστὴν αὐτὸν’]” (“Peregrinus” 14–15, §13; cf. Th. Gomperz 351; 486n.). 26 M. Kraus initially registers “the Sophistic” movement as “a pan-Hellenic […] phenomenon” (2; trans. dsm); then all but reduces it to Athens (at 3). Such may seem hardly plausible even synchronically (considering its characteristic itinerancy); but spec. diachronically, with respect to its ramifications: the ‘Second Sophistic’; the Imperial Roman era; the decidedly transcultural phenomenon of Early Modern Humanism. M. Kraus does see “the Sophistic concept of agonal speeches to be the germ cell of the European culture of debate” (4–5; trans. dsm; with 3). Th. Gomperz attributes to the Sophists “[a] brief hour of spectacular [‘rauschenden’] success” and “millennia of vilification” (351; trans. dsm; cf. M. Kraus 1; 13). Not only is this problematic per se; Th. Gomperz himself had given part of a (necessarily) diachronic refutation thereof (on the page prior)—referring to the “younger Sophistic of the Roman Imperial Age”, and its “neutral, if not honorific” ‘use of the term sophist’ (350; trans. dsm). Cf. Classen, observing that “Cicero” (in de oratore) “traces fundamental elements of his ideal conception back to the Sophists” (3n.; trans. dsm). With Bouwsma, Sloane claims that “the […] founder of the humanities in the Western World is not the philosopher Socrates but the Sophist Protagoras” (Contrary 48; plus 47, 48n.; and Bouwsma 385–396, spec. 387–391, 395). Nietzsche asserts: “unsere heutige Denkweise ist in einem hohen Grade heraklitsch, demokritisch und protagoreisch … es genügte zu sagen, daß sie p r o t a g o r e i s c h ‹sei›, weil Protagoras die beiden Stücke Heraklit und Demokrit in sich zusammennahm” (KSA 13. 293, 14[116]).

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In sum and consequence, the enduringly prevalent, (crypto-)Platonic dóxa is by no means the only stance and angle possible—and hardly the diachronicocomparatistically (hence scholarly) plausible one.27 As Aristotle stresses (see Rhet. 32–37, 1358b, I.iii.1–6), conflict, opposition, objection, confutation are critical to all rhetorical genera—not just its forensic branch (propelling their development). In deliberative contexts, effectually countering, verbally counteracting another counselor’s arguments is imperative (often downright vital). In the epideictic, not only is blame (evidently) driven by an impulse of contradiction; praise also tends to—frankly or tacitly—gainsay a foregoing form of censure (to say nothing of its frequently being envenomed).28 Exemplarily, an egregious Sophist opens an equally notorious encomium with the declaration that it be his “task […] to refute [‘ἐλέγξαι’] those blaming Helen, a woman concerning whom the belief [‘πίστις’] of those who heed the poets […] has been united and unanimous”; “by giving reasoning”, Gorgias “wish[es] […] to put an end to the blame” (“Helen” 754–755, 49.2).29 || 27 See a most egregious embodiment of gainsaying: “He was going into a theatre [‘θέατρον’], meeting face to face those who were coming out, and being asked why, ‘This’, he said, ‘is what I practise doing all my life’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 66–67, VI.64). The Diogenical persona (literally) comes to a walking contradiction of everything ‘current’, customary. Generally, see Mayfield (“Interplay” 21n.; Artful 39, 39n.; 308n.; 412; passim); plus subchs. 6.3, 6.6, herein. 28 See Schiappa’s pertinent précis: “Aristotle basically equates rhetoric with a[ntilogy], in that his rhetorical categories are defined by the counter-speeches [‘Gegenreden’] […] they produce. The forensic speech deals with the just and the undue; the deliberative […] with the useful and futile; the epideictic […] presents praise or censure” (“Antilogie” 703; trans. dsm). Cf. Rieger: “Contradictions are at the basis of all genres of speech, of the epideictic […] deliberative […] forensic […], seeing that all proceed from positions opposed to each other[,] [while] wishing to persuade [someone] of the one or the other. They are articulated in praise or censure, dissuasion and suasion, accusation and defense” (1443–1444; trans. dsm). For a concise overview of the rhetorical genera, see Lausberg (Elemente 18–19, §22–27). 29 (Cf. Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 288–289, 82B11). As to a remark both characteristic and formative for the epideictic genre, see the significative last line of Gorgias’ oration: “I have undertaken to write this speech as an encomium [‘ἐγκώμιον’] of Helen – and an amusement [‘παίγνιον’] for myself” (“Helen” 762–763, 49.21; with Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 294, 82B11). At the outset, the rhétor repeats his resp. theme via polyptota, figurae etymologicae—in structural variation: “praise […] praise [….] blame [….] blame […] praiseworthy […] praise […] blameworthy […] blaming […] put an end to the blame” (“Helen” 755, 49.1–2; cf. Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 288–289, 82B11). In its exordium, Gorgias states that his purpose is “to refute”; characteristically, this is stressed via the paronomastic variation of a similarly (meta-)thematic word in the immediate vicinity: “to refute [‘ἐλέγξαι’] […] those blaming Helen [‘Ἑλένην’]” (“Helen” 754–755, 49.2). It recurs in the ensuing section as “ἠλέγχθη” (“disproved”)—here concerning a (sophistic) refutation of Helen’s father having been a mortal, rather than Zeus himself (“Helen” 756–757, 49.3; cf. Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 289, 82B11).

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At once, this arch-rhétor’s contrarian laudatio is a locus classicus for oratory as verbal warfare. In what amounts to a mise en abyme, he speaks of “the compelling contests of words [‘λόγων ἀγῶνας’]” (“Helen” 758–759, 49.13).30 Not only in its traditional genera does rhetoric draw on—and display— modes of gainsaying. This will also hold good for its interconnected procedural stages, the (five) oratorical offices. As to the first, foundational one, Sloane logs: “many things are argued pro and con (in utramque partem multa disserentur)

|| 30 The quote continues: “in which one speech captures the fancy of the crowd [‘ὄχλον’] and having been composed artfully [‘τέχνηι γραφείς’] persuades everyone, though it is spoken falsely” (“Helen” 758–759, 49.13). Said ‘capturing and persuading’ is quasi contiguous in the Greek: “ἔτερψε καὶ ἔπεισε” (“Helen” 758, 49.13); the former tying in with the aim of ‘bringing delight’ (“τέρψιν”) qua oratorical télos (“Helen” 756–757, 49.5). Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting on Gorgias’ encomium: “The speech renders itself thematic and its power. […] of consequence for the further self-conception of Ancient rhetoric are […] the parallels to force [‘Gewalt’] and eroticism. Rhetoric is […] sublimated violence [‘Gewalt’] […] and […] a sort of seduction” (“Rhet. und Ästhetik” 56; trans. dsm). Skinner stresses “[t]his sense of eloquence as a physical force […] vis verborum” (“Ambiguity” 271). On rhetoric’s potency: “λόγος δυνάστης μέγας ἐστίν” (Gorgias “Helen” 758, 49.8; plus 760, 49.14). Regarding the agonal aspect, see this parallelism: “λόγων ἀγῶνας […] λόγων ἁμίλλας” (“Helen” 758, 49.13). Similarly D. Laertius—crediting Protagoras with “institut[ing contests in debating [‘λόγων ἀγῶνας ἐποιήσατο’]”; and being “the father of the whole tribe of eristical [‘ἐριστικῶν’] disputants” (Lives II. 464–465, IX.52). For the agón’s aiming at victory, see spec. the Aristophanic altercation between a ‘Better (Decent)’ and ‘Worse (Sophistic) Argument’ personified (128–159, v.889–1111; with H. Gomperz “Sophistik” 29; Sophistik 42; and Mayfield “Interplay” 20n.). Cf. Neumann on “agonistics […] certamen […] [the] oratorical art of war [‘Streitkunst’]” (261; trans. dsm): “not without reason does the word for every form of contest, agon, also denote the court proceedings as such” (266; trans. dsm). He logs “the agonal basic disposition [‘Grundeinstellung’] on the part of the Greeks” (270; trans. dsm). Cf. Dietz: “In Greek culture[,] e[ristics] pertain to the agon’s forms of expressions, [i.e.] of the oratorical contest, the traces of which are visible in all areas of public life. Training eristic repartee [‘Schlagfertigkeit’] is among the foremost educative objectives of the Sophists” (1390; trans. dsm). See Rieger (1141); M. Kraus (3–6). As to their being “agonistic, competing”, Guthrie remarks that “competitiveness came to be a general characteristic of the Sophists. For Protagoras any discussion is a ‘verbal battle’” (The Sophists 43). Regarding the latter’s “work on Truth”, he notes: “καταβάλλοντες appears to have been an alternative title […]. A metaphor from wrestling, it means arguments which overthrow others” (The Sophists 183, 183n.). Dietz logs that Locke “refers to the Aristotelian art of disputation as an ‘Art of Wrangling’” (1404; trans. dsm). Cf. various agonal expressions: “the exchange of verbal blows [‘Schlagabtausch’] (altercatio or pugna decretoria)” (1393; trans. dsm); “contentiones (vehement verbal disputes [‘Streitreden’])” (1394; trans. dsm); “battle of words [‘Wortgefecht’, ‘logomachía’]” (1394; trans. dsm; with 1407). As to the concept of ‘Wortkampf’ (‘verbal warfare’), see Stolt’s resp. volume (passim; on Luther, spec. 45, 50–51, 66, 95–119). Generally, Skinner notes: “we can never hope to rely on the force of reason alone to carry us to victory in the war of words, simply because it will always be possible to adduce good reasons in utramque partem” (“Ambiguity” 270).

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[…]. Herein lies the protocol of humanist inventio” (Contrary 26; see 30–31).31 An eristic bent—forms of contradictiousness—may also serve as a heuristic device.32 Since Sloane’s respective monograph is key to the issue at hand, one might take stock of his central theses (repeated rhetorically, hence with variation): Contrarianism is of the essence in rhetoric […]. Understanding […] contrarianism should help us understand what it means to think like a rhetorician. […] th[is] view of rhetoric […] is ostensibly based on antagonism, hostility, strife, competitiveness[.] (Contrary 3) pro-con argumentation is at the very core of rhetoric’s conceptual identity. (Contrary 5)33 The first principles of […] rhetoric’s intellectual habit stem from the discipline’s openness to contrarianness, […] and from the ancient dialogic practice of generating arguments on both sides of the question. (Contrary 11)34

The latter relates to dispositio, as well. For the—initially forensic—technique of (virtually, potentially) arguing every question, and any case, ‘also on the other

|| 31 Sloane continues (the context being Cicero’s de oratore, as contrasted with the Platonic Phaedrus): “Because the sides are a little more evenly balanced, the protocol becomes more Sophistical than Philosophic—more disputatious than Platonic-dialogical, […] more a […] battle of wits than a Socratic bullying” (Contrary 27). With respect to the intellectual impact of rhetoric on Early Modern héxeis of thought, see Bloemendal (115–117); Küpper (“Rhetoric” 151– 152; 156; 165; 173); Mayfield (“Interplay” 3–11; 28–29; Ventriloquism passim; spec. 21n., 34–36, 34n.–37n., 62, 80–81, 120–127, 120n.–122n., 130–131, 135–136, 138–139, 187n., 198n.). 32 Cf. the (incidental, felicitous) proximity of these terms in Dietz: “heuristische […] eristische” (1413). See Kerferd: “eristic […] derives from […] eris[,] meaning strife, quarrel or contention […][;] eristic means ‘seeking victory in argument’, and the art which cultivates and provides appropriate means and devices for so doing” (62). As to the above modus, see subch. 8.5.2. 33 Use of the latter term seems particularly ill-advised in this context (as well as generally); one might suggest replacing it with ‘conceptual qualities and self-representation’ (say). 34 Sloane logs a spec. case: “Yet his [sc. Erasmus’] educational theories are based on verbal combat. He insists upon the practice of writing recantations and of reasoning in utramque partem, on both or […] all sides of the question” (Contrary 11). Regarding a resp. approach to the world, Baldwin states: “rhetoric is both extensive and intensive, both a comprehensive study of life and a specific art” (46). Cf. Sloane, seeing “rhetoric as an intellectual method (or, better, habit)” (Contrary 5; a “cast of mind”, 86–87, 224; with “Education” 164; 172)—as “not simply a modus dicendi but a modus vivendi” (Contrary 229): “we have neglected rhetoric as an intellectual pursuit. As [such it] […] is anchored in contingency and bases its conclusions on such non-objective and circumstantial forms of proof as the response of the audience and the often self-fashioned character of the speaker” (Contrary 10); “rhetoric ab initio was associated with disputation” (Contrary 6n.). In this respect, the scholar avers: “the very combativeness of rhetoric is an antidote to political correctness—the former at least keeps the debate alive” (Contrary 13). Cf. Sloane’s later sermocinatio, put into the mouth of a respondent: “‘What is political correctness? […] The concept seems so alien to democracy’” (Contrary 276n.).

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side(s)’ leads not only to the notorious characterization of wordcraft as capable of (inter alia) “‘making the worse appear the better argument’” (Aristotle, referring to Protagoras at Rhet. 335, 1402a, II.xiv.11).35 Above all, it pertains to a speech’s economy, its selection and arrangement of the (verbal, notional) material—ever being with a view to the given context (adversaries, audiences, anticipated effects, et caetera).36 In terms of elocutio, syntagmatic (chiasmus), semantic techniques are based on forms of gainsaying: antithesis, oxymoron, contradictio in adiecto, and the like.37 Aiding structured forms of recollection, dichotomies will seem serviceable mnemonically: when memorizing a speech, say; else for heuristic purposes.

|| 35 See Diels/Kranz (Vorsokratiker II. 266, 80B6b); and subch. 4.3. The section on “refutation” (‘lýsis’) ensues in Aristotle’s economy (Rhet. 334–343, 1402a–1403b, II.xxv.1–xxvi.5; here 335; with Freese “Analysis” xliii, l). On the Protagorean saying and its import, cf. H. Gomperz (“Sophistik” 29; Sophistik 42); Guthrie (The Sophists 51; 182); Sloane (Contrary 107); Schiappa (“Antilogie” 703; Protagoras 14; 103–116; 117; 127; 158–159; 165; 168); Marti (“Disputation” 871); Neumann (266); M. Kraus (11). Renaud adds that “Contradiction is always possible, seeing that factuality [‘Wirklichkeit’] itself is contradictory” (180; trans. dsm; with Villwock 726); or rather: because matter—hence human life—is contingent. As to the dictum “τὸν ἥττονα λόγον κρείττω ποιεῖν, wörtlich: die schwächere Rede zur stärkeren zu machen”, von Fritz distinguishes the ensuing senses: “Das Schlagwort kann einfach bedeuten, ein schwaches Plädoyer durch das Auffinden besserer Argumente und deren bessere Formulierung und Präsentation zu verbessern und so ‘stärker’ zu machen. Es kann aber auch bedeuten […]: die schlechtere Sache durch täuschende Argumente als die bessere und stärkere erscheinen zu lassen. Das erste ist völlig legitim. Gegen das zweite kann man […] Einwände erheben” (“Rückwendung” 225). 36 Quintilian links dispositio and memoria to refutatio: “you must […] remember everything that has been said by the other side [‘ab adversa parte dicta’], and refute [‘refutare’] it, not necessarily in the order in which it was said, but arranging it as is most advantageous [‘oportunis’]” (Inst. Orat. 11–12. 58–59, 11.2.2; cf. Baldwin 83). Eden gives “the fundamentally rhetorical task” qua “accommodating the speech to the demands of the particular occasion: its time, place, audience, speaker” (Rhet. Trad. 66). Moreover, “attention to the particularities of the case” is central “to all rhetorical analysis” (Rhet. Trad. 24). With Meyfart, Villwock stresses that the “measure of [a] rhetorical performance is […] the hearer” (741; trans. dsm). 37 Cf. “Through Antithesis contraries will meet” (Rhet. ad Her. 377, IV.xlv.58); incl. as to contrast: “present[ing] the Contrary” pertains to variatio, as well (Rhet. ad Her. 369, IV.xliii.56). On “Contrapositum […] vel […] contentio”—qua ‘antítheton’—see Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 150–153, 9.3.81–86). Wilson has: “Contrariety is when our talk standeth by contrary words or sentences together” (223, III.25–26); glossed as “Contentio (contrast of oppositions)”, referring to Cicero; and “contrapositum (antithesis)”, by recourse to Quintilian (Wilson 293n.). Generally, see Rieger (1446); Villwock: “antítheton […] contrapositum, contrarium […] Gegenüberstellung […] antithesis […] is initially a category of stylistic theory (elocutio)”; he stresses its liminality and “mediating function: its systematic place is the frontier” (722; trans. dsm). For Petrarca’s écriture in said regard: Kablitz (“Verwandlung” 261–263; in application passim; “Senses” 226).

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In view of (diverse) audiences or spectators, oratorical actio (voice, gestural mise en scène) is competitive, agonistic all but inevitably—even (or especially) where apparently accommodating.38 Bers gives the requisite state outright: “Persuasion […] must encounter resistance” (184).39 While wordcraft will not always elide with kindness, it often contradicts with seeming sweetness.40 To précis the above, and transition to the taxonomic subchapter, Eden’s concinnously incisive synopsis of oratory’s eristic bent proves conducive: discursive resistance or antagonism both defines the forensic encounter as a whole and takes its fiercest form in the practice of refutation[—]the rhetorical effort, either in longer speeches or in the exchange of question and answer, to demolish the argument of one’s opponent by showcasing its inconsistencies and contradictions. (“Refutation” 68)41

Fueled by a disciplined awareness and methodical exploitation of contingency, the art’s basic dynamics are of an adversative, antithetical, gainsaying quality: what is, need not be (thus); that which appears to be the case, may well be else. || 38 With respect to Eden’s research, see Mayfield (“Interplay” 20; “Proceedings” 206; 224). Renaud has: “[c]ooperation and competition mingle in the v[erbal dispute, ‘Streitgespräch’]”; he logs a “kinship to eristics”, “antilogia” (178; trans. dsm): “[a]s antilogia[,] disputation is both dialogic and agonal” (183; trans. dsm). Cf. Kerferd (31–32; 59–67; 84–85). 39 See Caelius: “‘Dic aliquid contra, ut duo simus!’”. “‘Contradict me, that there may be two of us!’” (as per Seneca “De Ira” 275, III.viii.6; with Montaigne Essais II. 559, II.xxxi; plus 796n.; Essays 543, II.31). Generally, cf. Cicero: “neque enim disputari sine reprehensione, nec cum iracundia aut pertinacia recte disputari potest” (De Fin. 30, I.viii.28; with Montaigne Essais III. 205, III.viii; 537n.; Essays 705, III.8). Plausibly, Niehues-Pröbsting: “Widersprüche sind nur da möglich, wo gesprochen wird” (“Mythos” 42). Then again, silence may (yield) dissent. 40 In “suasion […] the residue of controversy is always tangible” (Sloane Contrary 132): “The orator in praising his prince for, say, wisdom and generosity is often in fact pointing out the very absence of those qualities. […] praise becomes an oblique blame, a rebuke Donne calls […] a ‘collateral increpation’” (Contrary 134; with “Education” 175). Generally regarding the above, see Eden (qtd. in: Mayfield “Proceedings” 210); plus subchs. 5.2.2, 7.2.2, 13.3.2, herein. 41 As to rhetoric’s refutative ground swell, Eden argues that the adversative tendency’s force conduces to a reciprocal meld with the dramatic agón—in (Greek) drama, philosophical dialog, and the (Montaignian) essai (cf. “Refutation” passim; Mayfield “Interplay” 17–21). “The method of refutation in matters of literary interpretation […] overlaps with” the like “in rhetoric and dialectic” (Eden “Ancient Rhet. Trad. [1987]” 70; cf. 65). On “the larger rhetorical context of the early history of hermeneutics”, she remarks: “As practiced by the ancients and their humanist admirers, interpretation is by and large adversarial, an antagonistic affair. Because one of its most pressing arenas was the law courts, […] many of its most compelling strategies belong to forensic debate” (Rhet. Trad. 2); “literary exegesis is profoundly adversarial” (Rhet. Trad. 21): it is to “engage in intellectual combat” (Rhet. Trad. 21). On (the grounds of) controversy in exegetical respects, see Eden (Rhet. Trad. 7–12, 8n., 16, 20–24, 32, 56, as to Antiquity; 86, 93– 95, for Early Modern times; cf. “Later Works” 99; “Augustinian” 62).

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Even its suavely persuasive, eloquently mellifluous modes are but bait for narcissism; or else politic attempts at coloring, sugarcoating, whitewashing— hence forms of alternate violence.42 Practically anything might be ‘otherwised’, rhetorically. Not all options are as humane as those decidedly proceeding by virtue of speech (be its make as it may).

8.3 Tentative Synopsis of Rhetorical Terms, Uses, Techniques Relating to Contradiction Diversity of argument and of voice and above all contrarianism are of the essence. —Sloane (Contrary 277)

For the reader’s convenience, and with a view to further research, statements central to the phenomena of contradiction—and a corresponding field of study— will here be synthesized succinctly, by virtue of a (necessarily selective, albeit indicative) survey of affine entries in the Historical Dictionary of Rhetoric.43 Neumann notes that, “according to Protagoras[,] objection, contradiction is always possible on principle” (266; trans. dsm). Kienpointner calls it a “classic

|| 42 On the latter, see Cicero (“De Inv.” 4–9, I.ii.2–3); with reference to Wilson, Sloane (Contrary 222–224); generally, Niehues-Pröbsting (“Glauben” 24–28; 33–34; 37; passim). As Blumenberg duly accentuates, there is added value in apprehending “‘How to do nothing with words’” (“Staatstheorie” 138; plus 129); in avoiding action by virtue of the verbal—by having a way therewith. See also subch. 10.3.2, herein. Significative silences are (here) to keep the peace. 43 In view of rhetoric’s conceptual pluralism, a heuristic précis of terms generally (and more spec.) related to forms or phenomena of contradiction may seem advantageous. In this regard, the ensuing offers a brief taxonomic synopsis along the lines of the Historical Dictionary of Rhetoric. These articles (with titles trans.) will be of spec. pertinence: Neumann’s ‘Agonistics’ (passim); Villwock’s ‘Antithesis’ (passim); Schiappa’s ‘Antilogy’ (passim); Dietz’ ‘Eristics’ (passim); Staab’s ‘Refutation’ (passim); Rieger on ‘Contradiction’ (passim). Certain (associated) entries may be generally relevant to studies of rhetorical gainsaying: “Anaskeue”, “Confutatio” (both Kienpointner passim); “Antirrhesis” (Drews passim); “Contradictio in adiecto” (Steinfeld passim); “Contrapositum” (C. R. Smith passim); “Controversia”, “Disputation” (both Marti passim); “Einwand, Einwurf” (‘objection’, Löhner passim); “Streitgespräch” (‘eristic dialog’, Renaud passim); “Elenchos” (Schirren passim). On the latter concept (in application), see Eden (“Refutation” passim; spec. the taxonomic gloss at 56n.–57n.). Kerferd links it to antilogía: “the process of elenchus in the Platonic dialogues takes many forms. […] one of the commonest forms is to argue that a given statement leads to a self-contradiction, […] to two statements which are mutually contradictory […][—][this being] the essential feature of antilogic” (65). On “rhetoricians and Sophists”, Guthrie glosses (with Plato): “the men who deal in contradictions (ἀντιλογικοί)” (The Sophists 177). The latter among them.

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principle of Ancient rhetoric” that one “may argue pro and contra with regard to any view” (“Anaskeue” 548; trans. dsm).44 Generally, Schiappa stresses that the corresponding “practice of presenting arguments on either side of a question remained an enduring characteristic” (“Antilogie” 704; trans. dsm). “The spirit and […] practice of in utramque partem disputare pervaded the greater part of Renaissance literature” specifically (“Antilogie” 707; trans. dsm).45 Concerning the concept at issue, Smith’s generic explication of the term ‘contrapositum’ (‘antítheton’) might seem conducive: “In rhetorical practice, contra signifies […] an objection. In the legal system, the concept [‘]contra dico[’] […] often referred to the other party’s attorney” (378; trans. dsm).46 As to Early Modernity, Rieger logs Melanchthon’s view that ‘contradiction has manifold rhetorical functions’ (see 1448). Concerning a twentieth century assessment, the aforesaid scholar précises Perelman’s views; positing “rhetoric as the theory of argumentation aiming at consensus”, he is said to infer that || 44 Cf. “Protagoras was the first to maintain that there are two sides [‘δύο λόγους’] to every question [‘περὶ παντὸς πράγματος’], opposed to [‘ἀντικειμένους’] each other [‘ἀλλήλοις’], and he even argued in this fashion, being the first to do so [‘πράξας’]” (D. Laertius Lives II. 462–463, IX.51; with Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 266, 80B6a). See Schiappa’s authoritative study (Protagoras 89–102; 135; 139; 159); also Guthrie (The Sophists 182, 182n.; 211–212); M. Kraus (11). The so-called “Δισσοὶ λόγοι” open with that phrase: “There are competing accounts” (“Dissoi” 878–879, §1; see 880, §2, 886, §3, 888, §4). Graham logs their “presenting opposed arguments on a given topic” (“Dissoi” 877n.). Cf. Kerferd (54; 84–85); Guthrie (“two views are taken”, The Sophists 316–319; here: 316); Gaonkar (“Contingency [2001]” 155), cum grano salis. With regard to the Protagorean mode, Kerferd stresses: “the essential feature was […] that both opposing arguments could be expressed by a single speaker” (84). For the resp. implications (virtual, internal argument in utramque partem), see subchs. 8.1 and 8.4, herein. 45 In the Historical Dictionary of Rhetoric, the technique of argument ‘in utramque partem’ (cf. Schiappa “Antilogie” passim; spec. 701; with Protagoras 89; 100n.) appears to be a plausible leitmotif in entries relating to the various phenomena of contradiction. For its prevalence in Early Modern (English) contexts, see Altman (3; 9; 25; particularly in ch. II, 31–32, 32n., 34, 41, 43–44, 50, 53; cf. 64, 69, 71, 75–76, 79–80, 88–89, 104, passim; spec. 390, 391n., 392). He stresses: “The habit of arguing in utramque partem permeated virtually all areas of intellectual life” (34). It conduced to “copia”, a “thoroughgoing pluralism” (97n.). Cf. Rhodes (609–611; passim); Enterline (Schoolroom 13; a “ubiquitous technique”, 21; joined with “impersonating”, 84; 89; 92; 104; 155n.–156n.). Auerbach: “In der elisabethanischen Tragödie und insbesondere bei Shakespeare ist das perspektivische Bewußtsein selbstverständlich geworden” (Mimesis [1982]. 307; and Mimesis [2003]. 322; a trans. as is utterly problematic passim). Generally, cf. Schiappa: “The revivification of the controversia tradition is mostly ascribed to ERASMUS, seeing that he argued in utramque partem in various writings and […] defended the [practice of] declamation” (“Antilogie” 707). See subch. 8.4, below. 46 Cf. other (translingual) variants: “commistio, contrarium, contentio […] antítheton […] Gegenüberstellung […] antithesis” (C. R. Smith 378).

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c[ontradiction, ‘Widerspruch’] in the logical sense is not a criterion in rhetoric, but the plausibility or absurdity of the [respective] proposition. Refutation [‘Widerlegung’] is performed […] by demonstrating an incompatibility with acknowledged facts. […] Incompatibilities may […] be managed by ignoring them. (1449; trans. dsm)47

The latter insinuates an especially operative mode, to receive further treatment by recourse to Quintilian (8.3.2) and Gracián (8.5.2). Before, the transhistorically stable, rhetorico-forensic interplay between proof and rebuttal merits attention.

8.3.1 The Dynamic Reciprocity of Corroboration and Confutation We ought […] not only to state the true view, but also to account for the false one, since to do so helps to confirm the true. —Aristotle (NE 443–445, 1154a, VII.xiv.3)48 Tota spes vincendi ratioque persuadendi posita est in confirmatione et in confutatione. —(Rhet. ad Her. 32, I.x.18)49

A Latin tract ‘comments on confirmation and confutation in conjunction’ (Rhet. ad Her. 58, II.i.2).50 In principle, this position is reiterated by Cicero, Quintilian; and in Wilson’s influential Early Modern vernacular rhetoric, for instance.51

|| 47 See the ch. on ‘contradiction and incompatibility’ in Perelman (54–60). 48 He adds: “for when we have found a probable explanation [‘εὔλογον φανῇ’] why something appears [‘φαίνεται’] to be true though it is not true, this increases our belief in the truth [‘πιστεύειν ποιεῖ τῷ ἀληθεῖ μᾶλλον’]” (NE 444–445, 1154a, VII.xiv.3). Not few will be the uses. 49 “The entire hope of victory and the entire method of persuasion rest on proof and refutation” (Rhet. ad Her. 33, I.x.18). 50 “coniuncte de confirmatione et confutatione dicendum fuit” (Rhet. ad Her. 58, II.i.2). Skinner claims: “Cicero in his de inventione prefers to speak of […] the reprehensio rather than the confutatio” (Forensic 17). Yet the anonymus also employs the former (“reprehendi”, “reprehensionis”, “reprehensione” twice, “reprehendere”, Rhet. ad Her. 112, II.xx.31). In the space of two paragraphs, Cicero uses a diversity of affine terms: “refellemus” (De Orat. I–II. 448, II.lxxxi.330), “in controversiam”, “infirmandis”, “reprehensionem”, “reprehendi”, “contra dicuntur”, “reprehendas” (De Orat. I–II. 448, II.lxxxi.331). Quintilian has “restruendi [or possibly: destruendi] confirmandique” as to the progymnásmata of anaskeué, kataskeué; in which context he also states: “sit in utramque partem ingens ad dicendum materia” (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 288, 2.4.18; 288n.; cf. “restructio et confirmatio sententiarum”, Inst. Orat. 9–10. 360–361, 10.5.12; see Trimpi Muses 322–323; “Quality” 77). As to Aphthonius, Kennedy logs: “‘Refutation’ is the first exercise to require logical reasoning on the student’s part. It was studied before ‘confirmation’, because it is generally easier to find objections to someone else’s thesis than to offer an independent proof” (New History 204). See various progymnasmatic theorists thereto (Aelius Theon 72, §17, [111–112P]; Hermogenes “Exercises” 79, §5, [11]; Aphthonius 101–105, §5–

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Said reciprocity also holds good more specifically: “a Contradiction [‘contradictionem’] […] is only a Proposition [‘propositio’], though on the other side [‘diversa’]” (Inst. Orat. 11–12. 170–171, 11.3.163).52 As to the contrarian part, it

|| 6, [27.10R–32.16R; Nicolaus the Sophist 144–147, §6, [29–35]; John of Sardis/Sopatros 199–201, §5–6, [67–71; 84]; with Kennedy “Intro. [2003]” xiii; plus Priscian the Grammarian 554, §5). 51 See Aristotle (Rhet. 342–343, 1403a, II.xxvi.3); on lýsis generally (Rhet. 334–343, 1402a– 1403b, II.xxv–xxvi). Cf. Cicero: “refutation [‘Reprehensio’] […] utilizes the same sources of invention that confirmation [‘confirmatio’] does, because any proposition can be attacked by the same methods of reasoning by which it can be supported” (“De Inv.” 122–123, I.xli.78); “the case must be supported by proofs, which is effected by conjointly demolishing your opponent’s [‘infirmandis contrariis’] arguments and establishing [‘confirmandis’] your own. […] inasmuch as it is neither possible to refute [‘reprehendi’] statements made against [‘contra dicuntur’] you unless you prove [‘confirmes’] your own, nor to prove [‘confirmari’] your own statements without refuting [‘reprehendas’] your opponent’s, it follows that these proceedings are connected […] by nature […] [and] in respect of their value for your case and the method of handling them” (De Orat. I–II. 448–449, II.lxxxi.331). Baldwin glosses: “debate is always at once destructive and constructive” (53). Cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 466–467, 5.13.1); spec. “Proof is meant to establish [‘constituat’] something, and Refutation to pull something down [‘destruat’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 150–151, 3.9.5); “we must both establish [‘confirmanda’] our own Definition and destroy [‘destruenda’] our opponent’s [‘adversae partis’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 226– 227, 7.3.19). The reciprocity is also borne out by Wilson’s Early Modern account: “in confirming a matter” one “will” have to “know” (inter alia) “what is contrary, and what can be said against it” (145, II.30, 33). See his resp. descriptions: “the confutation is a dissolving or wiping-away of all such reasons as make against us”; following on the “confirmation” qua “declaration of our own reasons with assured and constant proofs” (51, I.1–4). “In confuting of causes, the like [‘grounds’, ‘places’, sc. tópoi qua means] may be had as we used to prove [in the confirmatio], if we take the contrary of the same. For as things are alleged, so they may be wrested, and as houses are builded, so they may be overthrown” (145, II, l.20–22). 52 Cf. Aristotle: “A contradiction [‘ἀντίφασις’] is an opposition [‘ἀντίθεσις’] which of its very nature excludes any middle” (“Post. An.” 32–33, 72a, I.ii); “a thesis is a conception [‘ὑπόληψίς’] which is contrary to accepted opinion [‘παράδοξος’]. Almost all dialectical problems are now called theses” (“Top.” 300–301, 104b, I.xi). “A thesis is the conception [‘ὑπόληψις’] contrary to general opinion [‘παράδοξος’] but propounded by someone famous as a philosopher; […] [e.g.] ‘Contradiction is impossible [‘οὐκ ἔστιν ἀντιλέγειν’]’, as Antisthenes said” (“Top.” 300–301, 104b, I.xi); “it was foolish of Antisthenes to insist that […] contradiction is impossible [‘μὴ εἶναι ἀντιλέγειν’]” (Met. 1–9. 286–287, 1024b, V.xxix.4; cf. 286n.; 412–413, 1043b, VIII.iii.7). See Isocrates (“Helen” 60–61, [208], X.1); Plato (“Euthydem.” 428–431, 285D–286C; 430n.; “Sophist” 392–393, 251B–C; 393n.); D. Laertius: “It is said also that Antisthenes, being about to read publicly something that he had composed, invited Plato to be present. And on his inquiring what he was about to read, Antisthenes replied that it was something about the impossibility of contradiction [‘μὴ εἶναι ἀντιλέγειν’]. ‘How then’, said Plato, ‘can you write on this subject?’ thus showing him that the argument refutes itself [‘περιτρέπεται’]” (Lives I. 308–309, III.35).

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may be understood in two senses, because (1) the function of the defence consists entirely in Refutation [‘in refutatione’], and (2) each side has to rebut [‘dissolvi’] what is said by the other [‘quae dicta sunt ex diverso’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 466–467, 5.13.1)53

With Cicero, Quintilian generalizes that “defence [‘defendere’] is harder than prosecution [‘accusare’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 468–469, 5.13.2): “accusatio praecedat defensionem” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 20, 3.2.2).54 This is largely due to there being “only one way [‘uno modo’] of presenting a charge, but various ways of countering it [‘dissolvitur varie’]”—for instance, to “deny [‘neget’], justify”, shift the blame (“transferat”), “make excuses, […] extenuate, divert”, ‘despise’ (“despiciat”), ‘deride’ (“derideat”, Inst. Orat. 3–5. 468–469, 5.13.2).55 In the defense, “[t]he most important thing is the content [‘quid’] and manner [‘quo modo’] of the opponent’s [‘adversarius’] presentation” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 468–469, 5.13.4).56

|| 53 See Staab thereto (1110); and Cicero’s definition: “The refutation [‘Reprehensio’] is that part of an oration in which arguments are used to impair, disprove, or weaken the confirmation or proof in our opponents’ speech”—with the passage actually having “diluitur aut infirmatur aut elevatur” for the tricolon (“De Inv.” 122–123, I.xli.78); hence (approx.) ‘dilute, destabilize, lighten (in weight, extenuate)’. He submits “methods of refutation [‘modos reprehensionis’]”, with a view to ‘diluting or destabilizing arguments against oneself’ (“ea quae contra dicentur diluere aut infirmare”, “De Inv.” 122–123, I.xli.78; for “dilui”, cf. Rhet. ad Her. 294, IV.xviii.26). See Cicero’s general précis: “Every argument is refuted [‘reprehenditur’] in one of these ways: either one or more of its assumptions are not granted, or if the assumptions are granted it is denied [‘negatur’] that a conclusion follows from them, or the form of argument is shown to be fallacious, or a strong argument is met [‘contra (…) ponitur’] by one equally strong or stronger” (“De Inv.” 124–125, I.xlii.79). See the list of samples (“De Inv.” 124–147, I.xlii.79–I.li.96). 54 Cf. “prosecution is as much easier than defence as wounding is easier than curing the wound” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 469, 5.13.3). See Eden thereto (“Refutation” 56). 55 Baldwin précises “Quintilian[’s] […] shrewd maxims for rebuttal”: “Defense demands more skill than attack. / The system of status has one of its main uses in refutation. / Rebuttal often consists largely in breaking down analogies. / Never rebut what your opponent did not say. / Neither be too anxious nor fight over every item. / Peroration should be more than recapitulation; it should take occasion from the adversary” (77). See Priscian: “refutandum igitur ab incerto, ab incredibili, ab inpossibili, ab inconsequente, ab indecente, ab incomodo” (554, §5; also in: Staab 1111; cf. 1113n.). The latter logs: “The large number of means for refuting […] results from the two basic views of [the] rhetorical technique of persuading[:] for one[,] qua Sophistic weighing of pro and contra, in which consideration[s] of the orator’s pathos as well as the public’s affects are of greater import[;] and then[,] qua Socratic refutation of false opinions, in which the logically stringent argumentation is more in the service of finding the truth” (1110; trans. dsm). On variants in legal rhetoric, cf. Gast as distilled in Staab (1112–1113). 56 On sustaining or catalyzing the dynamics of reciprocity at issue, see Quintilian: “we can ask our opponent [‘ab adversariis’] to answer [‘respondeant’] some points, though this is only possible […] if we have put forward [‘proposuerimus’] points which cannot be refuted [‘refelli’],

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Next, assorted maneuvers are submitted—while bearing out the generally applicable need for hypólepsis in rhetoric, and a respective approach.57

8.3.2 Modes of Rhetorical Refutation yet wit may find out byways to escape, and such shifts may be made either in avoiding the danger by plain denial or else by objections and rebounding again of reasons made[.] —Wilson (145, II, l.24–26)

In chapter 13 of book 5, Quintilian deals with refutation at considerable length (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 466–499, 5.13.1–60); the ensuing distills a selection of tools— with special respect to the more artful and implicative forms of contradicting.58 Regarding the rather forthright techniques, the Roman notes that negation tends to come in two variants. One is plain, the other modifying: ‘not at all’; or ‘not that way’.59 Any rhétor habitually exploits the potentials of contingency. Withal, the defense may simply aim at offsetting—hence neutralizing—an allegation without (verbally) undoing it: Sometimes, if it proves too difficult to refute [‘resolvere’] the other side’s points [‘ex parte diversa dicta’], we can set our Arguments against theirs, so long as we can ensure that they seem stronger [‘valentiora videantur’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 472–474, 5.13.12)

If not otherwise, matters may be made to seem so—all views being contingent. Rhetoric is an art of appearances, above all: the effectual is the factual.60

|| since to provoke a reply [‘provocare’] which puts the other side in a strong position is to prompt him [‘monentis’] rather than confute him [‘non arguentis’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 18–21, 6.1.6). 57 On this concept and potential applications, cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim; here spec. 240n.–242n., 244n., 246–251, 252n.–253n., 254, 256n.–258n., 261, 260n., 265, 265n., 267, 269). 58 D. A. Russell: “Refutation (lysis, anaskeuē) […] is not very commonly treated as a separate subject elsewhere” (320). Cf. Eden: “refuting an opponent by disclosing the inconsistencies and contradictions in his speech” is “a practice that requires real artistry” (“Refutation” 56). 59 “there are two forms of denial [‘negandi’]: either ‘it was not done [‘non esse factum’]’[;] or ‘what was done is not this [‘non hoc esse quod factum sit’]’” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 470–471, 5.13.7). 60 Guthrie stresses: “Rhetoric teaches from the first that what matters is not what is the case, but what appears, what men can be persuaded of” (The Sophists 179; with 180). Cf. Altman: “Seeing clearly what the facts are means in effect seeing what the facts may be” (31). RhetoricoSophistically, nothing “is” per se “the case” or ‘a fact’; while one may establish (virtually) anything as such. In Machiavelli’s formulation: the “verità effettuale” (Principe 102, XV.3). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 92n.; 106; 122; 128; 162, 162n.; 179; 182n.; 355); subchs. 4.3, 4.4, 11.1.1, 13.5.

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The term particularly at issue comes up as to “Objections [‘contradictiones’] […] made against [‘adversus’] us”—where Quintilian counsels that one must ‘speak with reference to the other side, keeping its contrarieties in mind’ at all times (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 486–487, 5.13.36).61 He deems it “absurd [‘Ridiculum’] […] to think what answer can be made [‘quid responderi’] before thinking what can be said by the other side [‘quid ex diverso dici possit’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 490–491, 5.13.44)—as in chess, so in wordcraft. The orator “particularly [‘in primis’]” cautions “against mounting Objections [‘contradictiones’] which can easily be met, or imagining a stupid opponent [‘stultum adversarium’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 490–491, 5.13.42).62 Ever will attention to the setting be requisite. Precisely qua contextual art, rhetoric must reckon with contingency: situations change; results may vary.63 Generally speaking, the more elaborate techniques tend to be observable when—on occasion—special oratorical skill may be required “to make [‘efficere’] the opponent’s arguments appear [‘videatur esse’] contradictory [‘contrarium’], || 61 Quintilian’s economy outlines the (common) error of acting against this precept; i.e. many (even “in foro”) “pass over [‘praetereunt’] these Objections [sc. ‘contradictiones’] […][,] speak without regard to their adversary [‘sine adversario dicunt’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 486–487, 5.13.36). He also uses the term before: “in countering the charge [‘in contradictionibus’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 480–481, 5.13.28). Again, at the end of that paragraph: “contradictiones” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 482, 5.13.28); likewise later (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 492, 494, 5.13.45, 48–50). Quintilian returns to the aspect of keeping the other side in mind by means of an anecdote apparently in common currency: “in court […] we have to answer an opponent [‘adversario’], not ourselves. They say [‘Aiunt’] that Accius when asked why he did not plead Causes [‘cur causas non ageret’], seeing that so much power was evident in his tragedies, explained that what was said in his plays was what he wanted [‘quae ipse vellet’], but in court [‘in foro’] his opponents [‘adversarii’] would say things that he did not want [‘quae minime vellet’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 490–491, 5.13.43; cf. Trimpi Muses 343; “Quality” 96n.; Eden “Refutation” 68). On the whole, see Gast: “‘Contradiction is the legal dispute’s elixir of life[’]” (in: Rieger 1450; trans. dsm). Sloane logs “rhetoric[’s] […] life-giving linkage to fractiousness” (“Education” 165). Such accentuates the dynamics of contradiction; by extension, also of an antithetical style in general (Heracleitus, Petrarca, Machiavelli, et al.). 62 As to Wilson, Sloane tenders the “inner principle of arguing in utramque partem: whoever would affirm, or declare, something in dispute must give primary attention to the other side as part of the assumption of the burden of proof” (Contrary 213)—“keep an eye on the opposition” (Contrary 214). Generally, Blumenberg: “Jede Theorie muß darauf gefaßt und eingestellt sein, daß ihr widersprochen wird. Ihre Stärke im Durchsetzungsfeld von rivalisierenden Theorien hängt davon ab, in welchem Maße sie solchen Widerspruch vorausgesehen und ihm vorgebaut hat. Das Beste, was eine Theorie dabei überhaupt leisten kann, ist die Voraussage einer bestimmten Art von Widerspruch und dessen vorgreifende Umorientierung zur zusätzlichen Bestätigung der Theorie” (Phänomen. 259; cf. 432; “Einspruch” 174–175; Wende 101). In other words: anticipatingly stealing an (imagined) alter’s thunder; see subch. 8.6, herein. 63 There are no technical passe-partouts: “Todo es conforme y según” (Machado 98, v.21).

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irrelevant, unbelievable, superfluous, or [actually] favourable to our side [‘nostrae potius causae (…) coniunctum’] rather than to the opponent’s” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 476–477, 5.13.17).64 An accent on likely make-believe being decisive in all respects rhetorical, coopting an alter’s allegative force will be among the most artful maneuvers. When, more specifically, the other side happens to have ‘impressively cumulated arguments’, one may “refute [‘dissolveris’] them one at a time” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 474–475, 5.13.12–13). In this way, as Quintilian’s twofold (eloquently antithetical, hence performative) concetto accentuates, the flame [‘flamma’][,] which gathered strength from the mass[,] will die down as its fuel is scattered—just as even very great rivers [‘flumina’] can be made fordable anywhere if they are ‹diverted› into a number of channels. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 474–475, 5.13.13)65

By (syntagmatically) relating (the simultaneously paronomastic) “flamma” and “flumina” via the (express) tertium of their conceptual (as well as conceptist) application to the dissolutive modus in refuting, Quintilian artfully links otherwise antithetical elements—certainly on the surface of the page, vividly in the recipient’s appresenting mind. At once, their ‘natural’ antagonism (fire, water) performs at the level of the (elocutio-related) images what the discursive plane pertinently articulates as the (forensically) oppositive setting: a mise en abyme du face-à-face.

|| 64 Cf. Aristotle: “the objection [‘λύσις’, refutation] is often only apparent [‘φαινομένη’]” (Rhet. 338–339, 1402b, II.xxv.9). Withal, “[i]t is […] not enough to refute [‘λύσῃ’] an argument by showing that it is not necessary [‘οὐκ ἀναγκαῖον’]; it must also be shown [‘λύειν’] that it is not probable [‘οὐκ εἰκός’]” (Rhet. 338–339, 1402b, II.xxv.10)—“and what is probable is what is familiar in human experience” (Altman 47). Listing potential objections by the defense, Löhner notes the nexus to dispositio (“to make a selection favorable to one’s own position”); stresses taking recipients into account: “In any case[,] the refutation of objections serves to strengthen one’s own position[,] and to remove doubts in the audience. Objections may […] pertain to issues, be subjective (emotional) or apparent (disinterest, disregard)[;] and the reaction to them must be adjusted thereto” (983; trans. dsm). See Aristotle: “a thing is more probable [‘εἰκὸς μᾶλλον’], the greater the number of similar cases” (Rhet. 340–341, 1403a, II.xxv.11); “the probable being not what occurs invariably but only for the most part [‘τὸ δὲ εἰκὸς οὐ τὸ ἀεὶ ἀλλὰ τὸ ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’] […], and that which is only true for the most part is always liable to objection [‘ἔνστασιν’]” (Rhet. 338–339, 1402b, II.xxv.8 and §10). See the onset of ch. 4, herein. 65 Cf. “a statement which is damaging as a whole is demolished [‘dissolvitur’] bit by bit [‘per partes’]; this is generally the safer way” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 482–483, 5.13.28). Typically, “it will be expedient for the prosecution [‘accusatori’] to mass Arguments [‘congerere argumenta’] […][,] for the defense to break them up [‘dissolvere’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 474–475, 5.13.15). On cumulative effect: “si per singula minus valet, turba valet” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 16–18, 6.1.1).

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Conversely, treating an allegation to silence may sometimes prove to be the more feckful course, depending—as always in rhetorical praxis and a respective approach—on the particular givens, circumstances, states of play and affairs: some Arguments are best treated with contempt [‘contemnuntur’] as trivial [‘levia’] or irrelevant to the Cause [‘ad causam nihil pertinentia’]. […] the pretence [‘simulatio’] sometimes succeeds to the point that we trample down [‘calcemus’] […], by showing our distaste for them [‘fastidiendo’], Arguments which we cannot refute [‘dicendo refutare non possumus’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 478–479, 5.13.22)66

In effect, one may gainsay by failing to do so. The culturally highly floatational (legal) dictum that ‘qui tacet, consentire videtur’ must be qualified in terms of who is performing said silence: in which setting, as to what, and—foremostly— with a view to the expedient crafting of which appearance.67 For—“as all the masters of rhetoric teach”, and Hobbes declares against any attempts at whitewashing—the “end [‘finis’]” of “eloquence [‘Eloquentiæ’] […] is not truth [‘non veritas’] (except by chance [‘nisi per accidens’]), but victory [‘sed victoria’]”; besides, its “property [‘munus’] is not to inform [‘non docere’], but to allure [‘sed suadere’, sc. to suavely persuade]” (“Citizen” 231, X.11; Elementa 167–168, X.xi; spelling accommodated; see also 196, XII.xii).68 By any means— contingent, or otherwise—rhetoric is the craft of effectuality above all.69 || 66 As to such methods of countering: “Defective arguments are of two kinds. One can be refuted [‘reprehendi’] by the adversary, and so belongs to the cause proper; the other, although likewise invalid, does not need to be refuted [‘non indiget reprehensionis’]”—some being “proper to refute in rebuttal [‘reprehensione confutari conveniat’]”, while others are to be “ignore[d] in disdainful silence [‘tacite contemni’]” (Rhet. ad Her. 112–113, II.xx.31). 67 As per Marti, the “utility of school disputations” was seen in their conducing to a “capacity […] to speak, to keep silent at the right time[,] and to listen carefully” (“Disputation” 869; trans. dsm). On said proverb, see Krampe’s conceptual précis: “Qui tacet, consentire videtur […] [ist] [e]in aus der Antike ins Mittelalter tradiertes, in vielfältigen rechtlichen und außerrechtlichen Zusammenhängen gebrauchtes Sprichwort” (380; cf. 367, 374; spec. the synopsis of Ancient variants, 368–371; incl. reference to the ensuing at 370–371). For the present context, Cicero (“taciturnitas imitatur confessionem”, “De Inv.” 96, I.xxxii.54), as well as Seneca the Elder (“silentium videtur confessio”, “Controv. 7–10.” 392, 10.2.6, 468M), will be of spec. pertinence. 68 Cf. Schopenhauer: “Denn es kommt ja nicht auf die Wahrheit, sondern den Sieg an” (“Eristische” 685, §21, Dia.B5[16]). Küpper: “Effekt bzw. Erfolg, und nicht Wahrheit ist der primäre Imperativ” (“Kulturwissenschaft” 5); “der eigentliche Sinn der sophistischen Technik” is “der Erfolg” (von Fritz “Rückwendung” 226; cf. 225). Bubner stresses: in “the wide domain of rhetoric […] the aim is to win over and convince someone of something at any price” (Modern 78). With Lanham’s down-to-earth appeal: “Practice […] always in an agonistic context. The aim is scoring” (2–3; “prevailing in the game at hand”, 4). Hobbes is himself contradicting a view apparently held. Blaming rhetoric, he absolves the human agents as are being ‘moved’ to

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The most artful maneuvers tend to be such as tie in with the adversary’s very words, taking up their concentrated force—only to indirect, invertedly ricochet them, with value added.70 The latter will frequently result in implicit contradictions, implemented en passant. Specifically, Quintilian stresses that the manner in which the accuser has made his charges is important. […] if he has spoken ineffectively [‘minus efficaciter elocutus’], his actual words should be quoted; if he has used energetic and vigorous language, we should restate the facts [‘rem’] in our own milder terms [‘verbis mitioribus’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 480–481, 5.13.25)

This will be “combined with” a politic—quasi diplomatic—technique otherwise known as paradiastolé, or redescription via semantic proximity: if we have to defend a debauchee [‘luxurioso’], we can say ‘He has been charged with having a somewhat liberal life-style [‘obiecta est paulo liberalior vita’]’. Similarly a mean man can be called [‘dicere’] ‘thrifty’ [‘pro sordido parcum’], a slanderer ‘outspoken’ [‘pro maledico liberum’]. (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 480–481, 5.13.26)71

|| act ‘emotionally’—rather than ‘rationally’ (“recta ratione”)—under the art’s influence (“Neque est hoc [sc. ‘impetu animi sententias ferri’] hominis, sed ipsius Eloquentiae vitium”); the preceding sentences exhibit a similar structure of statement and contradiction: “non […] tamen […] sed”, “neque […] sed”, “non […] sed” (Elementa 167, X.xi; spelling accommodated). On this passage, see Blumenberg (“Annäher. [2001]” 428); Mayfield (“Interplay” 18n.–19n.). 69 “Rhetorik” is its “auf Wirkung bedachte[r] Wille[…]” (Blumenberg Die nackte Wahrheit 29). 70 As to the hypoleptic process, see Quintilian: “The most satisfactory thing is if you are in a position to derive an Argument from your opponent [‘si contingat aliquod ex adversario ducere argumentum’] […][;] opportunities [‘occasiones’] arise out of Causes [‘ex causis’], opponents’ remarks [‘ex dictis adversariorum’], […] accidental [‘ex (…) fortuitis’] circumstances” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 18–19, 6.1.4). Contingencies happen (to be the case); their advantageous use is an art. 71 Cf. “cum in hac maxime parte sint vicina virtutibus vitia, etiam qui vitiis utuntur virtutum tamen iis nomen imponant” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 342, 8.3.7; with 342n.–343n.; Inst. Orat. 3–5. 114– 115, 3.7.25). He treats ‘paradiastolé’—terming it ‘distinctio’—later: “‘When you call yourself wise instead of cunning [‘pro astuto sapientem’], brave instead of over-confident [‘pro confidente fortem’], careful instead of mean [‘pro inliberali diligentem’]’” (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 138–139, 9.3.65; cf. Skinner “Ambiguity” 274–275; 290n.). As well as before: “there is a close connection [‘vicinia’] between virtues and vices, which enables rudeness [‘maledicus’] to pass [‘accipitur’] for frankness [‘pro libero’], rashness for courage [‘temerarius pro forti’], and extravagance for abundance [‘effusus pro copioso’]” (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 334–337, 2.12.4; cf. Skinner “Ambiguity” 276–277; 291n.). See Aristotle: “We must also assume, for the purpose of praise or blame, that qualities which closely resemble the real qualities are identical with them; for instance, that the cautious man is cold and designing, the simpleton good-natured, […] the emotionless gentle. […] in each case we must adopt a term from qualities closely connected, always in the more favourable sense; […] the choleric and passionate man may be spoken of as frank and open, the arrogant as magnificent and dignified; those in excess [‘ὑπερβολαῖς’, sc. of some

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Few tools are likely to display positional contingency so strikingly: words craft, effect the state of affairs. What may be articulated, might as well be redescribed. Quintilian also treats “Refutation” in the context of (rhetorically) expedient humor, where it “consists in Denial, Rebuttal, Justification, Extenuation, ‹or Transference› [‘in negando redarguendo defendendo elevando ‹transferendo›’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 100–101, 6.3.72).72 These forms of contradiction tend to be

|| quality] as possessing the corresponding virtue [‘ἀρεταῖς’], the foolhardy as courageous, the recklessly extravagant as liberal. For most people will think so [‘δόξει τε γὰρ τοῖς πολλοῖς’]” (Rhet. 96–99, I.ix.28–29, 1367a–1367b; 98n.)—the latter being decisive for all that precedes. Cf. Freese: “For purposes of praise or censure[,] qualities which are closely akin may be regarded as identical. We should consider our audience, and praise that to which they attach special importance; and also endeavour to show that one whom we praise has acted with deliberate moral purpose, even in the case of mere coincidences and accidents” (“Intro.” xxxviii–xxxix). As to paradiastolé, see Aristotle (“Top.” 344–345, 111a, II.iv); Montaigne (Essais I. 275, I.xxiii; Essais III. 18–23, III.i, spec. 21–22; Essays 87, I.23; 602–604, III.1, especially 603). On the former locus, cf. Reiss—albeit cum grano salis, since his value judgments insinuate an innocence of the rhetorical significance (120; “false use”, “false usage”, 128; “confusion of language”, 129; 137). Generally, see Rhodes (613–614). By recourse to “Hobbes’s translation of the Rhetoric”, Skinner logs paradiastolic bidirectionality: “the same device can equally well be used to ‘make the best of a thing’ or else to ‘make the worst of it’” (“Ambiguity” 281). He rewords it as “redescribing” (“Ambiguity” 273; with 275): “it was widely accepted that […] redescription was of immense rhetorical significance” (“Ambiguity” 274; cf. Sokolov 78). Skinner calls “paradiastolic speech […] one of the most powerful techniques available […] for arguing in utramque partem” (“Ambiguity” 282). It pertains to the rhetorically decisive status (‘quale sit’), as Quintilian accentuates: “If we are going to be dealing with a question of quality [‘de qualitate’], which only arises when the facts are agreed [‘de re constat’], we should restate them [sc. the facts], but not in the same way [‘eadem, sed non eodem modo’]: I shall then allege different motives, attitudes of mind, and principles. It will be possible to extenuate [‘elevare’] some things by choice of words: luxury [‘luxuria’] will be toned down as liberality [‘liberalitatis’], avarice [‘avaritia’] as thrift [‘parsimoniae’], carelessness [‘neglegentia’] as simplicity [‘simplicitatis’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 256–257, 4.2.76–77); the polyptoton (“eadem”, “eodem”) being performative, here. Cf. Skinner (“Ambiguity” 273; 289n.). The latter’s abstaining from an explicit accent on the pivotal status (qualitatis) seems linked to a (highly) problematic construal, asserting that for “Aristotle […] the virtues […] constitute a mean between two extremes of vice. The crucial implication is that many virtues and vices must therefore stand in a relationship of proximity with each other” (“Ambiguity” 276). Such would appear to be misrepresenting the Aristotelian mesótes by omitting the decisive qualification: “the mean relative to us [‘πρὸς ἡμᾶς’] [is] that amount which is neither too much nor too little, and this is not one [‘τοῦτο δ’ οὐχ’ ἕν’] […] [nor] the same for everybody [‘οὐδὲ ταυτὸν πᾶσιν’]” (NE 90–91, II.vi.5, 1106a; with 90n.–91n.; and 109, 1109a, II.viii.8; cf. also: 92–93, II.vi.8, 1106b; 94–95, II.vi.15, 1107a; 112–113, 1109b, II.ix.8). Thereon—incl. the nexus to quality spec.—see Trimpi’s incisive and indispensable discussion (Muses 122–123, 123n.; 172–174; 219); plus subch. 4.3, herein. 72 See the examples given (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 100–103, 6.3.72–78). In passing, it might be noted

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characterized by indirection, hence contain a kind of latency—often conduced to by concinnous brachylogía; and require some sort of inference on the part of the antagonist or audience (the latter typically being presupposed).73 Gainsaying by implication will be variform. Qua instance for humorous “Justification” (‘defensio’), the rhétor offers an anecdote, wherein Augustus is said to censure a “Roman eques” for “having squandered his inheritance”; the latter parries the reproach with this remark: “‘meum […] putavi’”—“‘I thought it was mine’” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 100–101, 6.3.74).74 A witty brevity characteristic of humor is also present in one of Quintilian’s incisive examples for the method of “Extenuation” (“Elevandi ratio”, Inst. Orat. 6–8. 100–101, 6.3.75). Cicero—being badmouthed “for marrying the virgin [‘virginem’] Publilia when he was sixty”—retorts cynically: ‘she won’t be tomorrow’ (“‘cras mulier erit’”, Inst. Orat. 6–8. 102–103, 6.3.75).75 Neither of the above rejoinders (the knight’s or the arch-orator’s) outright contradict the statement made by the other side; but qualify it in such a way as expediently gainsays an (implicit) value judgment (whereon the reproach would otherwise be seen to turn)—thereby effectually deflecting the other’s thunder.76 The emotive aspect (movere) is critical or decisive in such cases; especially if the audience (and its laughter) is felt to have a say in the situation (likely not the case with the imperator present—unless he smiles, as well).

|| that Bacon also has the term “redargution” (e.g. at Advancement 15,I; 68 and 131, II). Cf. the significative instances in Augustine, as cited in subch. 8.5.1, below. 73 Cf. Blumenberg (Lebenswelt 67); Sloane on “rhetoric’s power of indirection” (Contrary 131). 74 Forensically, and in general: “Sometimes, to dispel unpopularity, a sharp remark [‘asperius dicta’] can be turned aside [‘eluduntur’] with a joke” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 488–489, 5.13.40). 75 Literally: “‘She will be a woman tomorrow’” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 103, 6.3.75; plus 102n.). A contextual variant is still more unpalatable (Plutarch “Cicero” 186–189, xli.2–5). Technically, cf. Cicero (De Orat. I–II. 366–367, II.lvi.229; 372–373, II.lviii.236); with Wisse (305, 305n.; spec. 307–308). On confutative ethos, see Carey: “character […] contributes to the refutation of the opponent’s case” (42; infinitized). Generally, Mayfield (Ventriloquism 32n.; 45n.; 51n.; 53; 57n.; 69n.; 74n.; 82n.; 92n.; 105n.–107n.; 110n.; 137n.; 144n.–145n.; 151–152, 151n.–153n.; 172n.). 76 Cf. “There is a Figure [‘figura’] […] in replies [‘in respondendo’], when we answer a different question from that which was asked, […] because it serves our interest better [‘utilius’]; […] in order to aggravate [‘augendi’] the charge […]; or […] to divert [‘declinandi’] a charge (this is the commonest use)” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 9–10. 40–41, 9.2.12). See subch. 8.6; generally, 4.3.

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8.3.3 Rhetoric Exemplarily Confuting its Contradictors Confutatio est contrariorum locorum dissolutio. —(Rhet. ad Her. 8–10, I.iii.4)77 arte pugnandum est et adhibenda quae prosunt[.] —Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 390, 2.17.29)78

To conclude this taxonomic section, an elaborate example from the eminent teacher of rhetoricians will be analyzed in more detail. The case he presents may be described as a performative portrayal of perspectival contingency. When treating the question as to whether ‘oratory be an art’, Quintilian contests and refutes the opponents of eloquence itself.79 To do so, he initially lists “captious objections to rhetoric [‘contra rhetoricen’]”; the majority of these “arise from the fact that speeches are made on both sides of any Cause [‘ex utraque causae parte dicatur’]” (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 390–391, 2.17.30): no art contradicts itself, but rhetoric does contradict itself [‘rhetoricen esse contrariam sibi’] […][;] no art tries to demolish [‘restruere’] its own work, but this does happen to the work of rhetoric […][;] it teaches either what ought to be said or what ought not to be said, and so it is not an art for one of two reasons: either because it teaches what ought not to be said, or because, having taught what ought to be said, it teaches also the opposite [‘contraria’]. (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 390–391, 2.17.30)80

The rhétor rejoins by reiterating the objection in negated form, followed by the giving of refutative examples. To the first (supposed) allegation, he replies: Rhetoric does not contradict itself [‘Nam rhetorice non est contraria sibi’]. Cause is pitted against Cause, not rhetoric against itself. […] even if persons who have learned the same things fight one another, it does not follow that the art, which was imparted to both of them, is not an art. On any other view, there would be no art of arms, because gladiators trained under the same master are often matched against each other, or of piloting, because in naval battles one pilot is opposed to another, or of generalship, because general is pitted against general. (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 390–393, 2.17.33–34)

|| 77 “Refutation is the destruction of our adversaries’ arguments” (Rhet. ad Her. 9–11, I.iii.4). 78 “we must fight with the weapons of art, and employ whatever means serve our purpose” (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 391, 2.17.29). Words are stronger than the sword—if the former guide the latter. 79 (Plus Inst. Orat. 1–2. 377, 2.17.1). On his defense of rhetoric, see Rieger (1445). Cf. subch. 3.7. 80 See Shakespeare: “O, madness of discourse, / That cause sets up with and against itself!” (TC 347, 5.2.149–150). A rhetorical reading is requisite. Contrast Weimann (119).

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The attempt at credibly confuting a foregoing contention operates on distinctly agonal, martial imagery—displaying the traditional affinity between wordcraft and combat (here predominantly in terms of eristic contradiction).81 The technique employed is that of specification: by distinguishing elements in a (linguistically induced) unity, a given generalization may be divided into its diverse particulars (and contexts)—whereby the alleged inconsistency turns out to have been but apparent.82 Next, Quintilian wields the arch-oratorical tenet of effectual plausibility: Rhetoric does not overthrow [‘evertit’] its own work. The orator does not refute [‘solvit’] the argument he has put up[;] nor does rhetoric either, because, if we take the view of those who regard persuasion as the end of rhetoric [‘in persuadendo finem putant’] […], what will be sought will be probabilities [‘veri similia quaerentur’]; and, if one proposition is more credible [‘credibilius’] than another, it is not contrary [‘non (…) contrarium est’] to that which is merely credible [‘credibile’]. Whiter is not contrary [‘non est adversum’] to white, nor sweeter to sweet; nor is the more probable [‘probabilius’] contrary to the less probable [‘probabili’]. (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 392–393, 2.17.34–35)

Again, the (notional) opponent’s objection to oratory (which could have seemed conceivable initially) is countered by tying in with examples momentaneously evident to almost any reader or audience—being apparently drawn from their ‘lifeworld’; while actually pertaining to the recipient’s customary (and typically tacit) conceptions concerning the realm of language. Ever is rhetoric a matter of degree—and context.83 To neutralize the third claim, Quintilian thus employs another mainstay of oratory, situational or circumstantial adequacy (the prépon, aptum, decorum,

|| 81 Trimpi logs “Digladiari [a]s an early metaphor for verbal disputes” (Muses 335n.). Neumann has: “This conspicuous martial imagery is a significant testimony to the conception of rhetoric in Antiquity. Already […] Plato’s […] [protagonist] Gorgias [declares] that one is to employ rhetoric like any other way of fighting. […] Words rhetorically formed are weapons” (270; trans. dsm). As to Early Modernity, he gives “the pamphlets of the Reformation period as agonal […][,] as formulations of the agonistic technique of speech”; hence views “rhetoric […] as an agent of warfare and [a] verbal weapon” (275; trans. dsm; plus 276). Schopenhauer sees “disputation” qua “intellectual battle” (“Eristische” 667, 2.Neben.Dial.B1[4]; trans. dsm). Stressing the import (and -pact) of “striking and parrying”, he describes “Dialectica eristica” as the “intellectual art of fencing [‘Fechtkunst’] with a view to ending up being right in disputing” (“Eristische” 676, Neben.Dial.B2[6]; trans. dsm). The mind is mightier than arms—if it aims them. 82 Generally, see Aristotle’s pertinent observation that an “objection is often only apparent [‘φαινομένη’]” (Rhet. 338–339, 1402b, II.xxv.9). Likewise for consent. 83 In Lanham’s eloquent brevity: “Context […] is crucial” (12). “Clarity is […] a temporal phenomenon […]. One century’s brightness becomes murk for the next” (21).

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accommodatum); even while (concomitantly with confuting the contradiction) slyly slipping in a carte blanche—legitimizing any course of action by virtue of appealing to the plausibly self-interested basis of the commonweal: Rhetoric never teaches what ought not to be said, or the contrary [‘contraria’] of what ought to be said, but what ought to be said in each individual Cause [‘sed quae in quaque causa dicenda sunt’]. However, although it most often has to defend the truth, this is not always so: public interest [‘communis utilitas’] sometimes requires [‘exigit’] it to defend what is false [‘falsa defendat’]. (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 392–393, 2.17.35–36)84

Ever employed with a view to consummate effectuality, rhetorical techniques invariably teach a gaining of the upper hand; and specifically by turning an apparently defensive position into a forward, aggressive one: anything might be elsewise(d). Said advantage will be immediately capitalized on by insinuating further claims—notably contentious ones—into the ongoing controversy.85

|| 84 Eden accentuates: “rhetoric itself is first and foremost the art of accommodation” (Rhet. Trad. 14; cf. also 2, 26, 41, 52, 66); “decorum” is “the single most important principle of composition” (Rhet. Trad. 17–18; with “Rhet. [2013]” 826–827). See Trimpi/Blumberg (passim); as well as Sloane on the “central rhetorical principle, decorum” qua “adapt[ing] any truth to the circumstances of its telling (its speaker, audience and occasion)” (Contrary 145). 85 Cf. “as a rule”, a person ‘engaging in disputation’ does “not fight for the truth, but for his proposition”; in so doing, he “cannot but”—as Schopenhauer stresses—“proceed pro ara et focis, and per fas et nefas” (“Eristische” 669, Dial.B1[1a]; trans. dsm). Linking the art of war to that of words, he glosses: “For prince[s,] M a c h i a v e l l i prescribes capitalizing on every moment of weakness on his neighbor’s part in order to attack him: for otherwise the latter might one day make use of the moment when the former is weak […] — just so it is in disputation” (“Eristische” 669n., at Dial.B1[2]; trans. dsm). Anthropistically, Schopenhauer describes “‘E r i s t i c D i a l e c t i c s’” qua “doctrine concerning the procedure of man’s natural assertiveness [‘Rechthaberei’, also: ‘insistent self-righteousness’]”; spec. as “the art of disputing […] in such a way as to end up being r i g h t, meaning p e r f a s e t n e f a s”—with “E r i s t i c s” being “but a harsher word for the same thing” (“Eristische” 667, Dial.B1[1], 667n.; trans. dsm; cf. 669, cited above). Schopenhauer’s dense tract merits (or requires) a thorough investigation with spec. regard to rhetorical techniques of contradiction.

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8.4 The Functionality of Argument in utramque partem There is much to say on both sides. —Emerson (“Montaigne” 237)86 in utramque partem valent arma facundiae[.] —Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 374, 2.16.10)87

|| 86 Withal: “There is much to say on all sides” (“Montaigne” 237). As to the notional or virtual realm, affinities of Skepticism and said rhetorical rationale may stand to reason. See Kablitz (“die systematische Konstruktion von Widersprüchen” qua “Umgestaltung von Kontingenz in Methode”: “‘Skeptizismus’” 506; cf. 509; “Nachahmung” 120); Dzelzainis (110; 114). An (albeit slight) difference obtains in pragmatic respects. For Skeptics are likely to ponder, or tentatively argue on, all conceivable sides—a process as will (‘ideally’) result in a relative balance. Orators perform their method as a means to an end—meaning, with a view to victory. Then again, a Zetetic pursues a not dissimilar aim, seeing that his poly-perspectival, all-equalizing modus is to counter, defuse—hence prevail over—dogmatic rigorism, logical dualism. Also, a Skeptic’s characteristic tolerance and lateral-mindedness does have practical consequences: “je ne hais point les fantaisies contraires aux miennes” (Montaigne Essais II. 661, II.xxxvii); “mon intérêt ne m’a fait méconnaître ni les qualités louables en nos adversaires, ni celles qui sont reprochables en ceux que j’ai suivi. […] Un bon ouvrage ne perd pas ses grâces pour plaider contre ma cause” (Essais III. 328, III.x). As to Fontane in this respect, see subch. 11.3.4, herein. 87 Similar wordings of the tool are legion in Quintilian: “sit in utramque partem ingens ad dicendum materia” (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 288, 2.4.18); “ex utraque causae parte dicatur” (Inst. Orat. 1–2. 390, 2.17.30); “in utramque partem tractantur” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 40, 3.5.5; with Lausberg Handbuch 62, §69; Trimpi Muses 32); “in utramque partem vel in plures” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.1); “quid ex diverso dici possit” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 490, 5.13.44); “erat aliquid in utraque parte quod probari possit” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 500, 5.14.1); “et utrimque tractet” (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 366, 10.5.20; with Sloane “Education” 167n.); “in utramque disserunt partem” (Inst. Orat. 11–12. 214, 12.1.35; see Trimpi “Quality” 116). Cf. the ch. on altercation (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 124–135, 6.4.1–22); spec. “refutanda […] quae ex contrario dicuntur” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 128, 6.4.10); “ex adverso dici” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 130, 6.4.14); “et diversas partes altercationis modo tueri” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 134, 6.4.21; with Sloane “Education” 167n.). See Aristotle (Rhet. 11–13, 1355a, I.i.12; cited at the onset of ch. 8). Cf. Cicero: “as to the fact that our school [sc. the Academy] argues against everything [‘Contra autem omnia disputatur’], that is only because we could not get a clear view of what is ‘probable’, unless a comparative estimate were made of all the arguments on both sides [‘ex utraque parte causarum esset facta contentio’]” (De Off. 174–175, II.ii.8). With Eden: “for Cicero, rhetoric in its broadest sense is the art of persuasion, rooted in a procedure called disputatio in utramque partem” (Rhet. Trad. 8; also 67). Above all, see Trimpi on said process in fiction (spec. Muses 287–295; plus 32, 323–326, 334–336, 384–387; passim; “Quality” 5; 7n.; 43–51; 56n.– 57n.; 64; 77; 84; 89; 90n.; 93n.; 100n.; 114–116; “Mimesis” 204). He stresses that “exploration in utramque partem brings out […] the qualitative issues of the case” (Muses 326). The “method of disputation in utramque partem provide[s] a formal structure” as is “especially adaptable” (Muses 295). See Quintilian: “qualitas maxime oratoris recipit operam, quia in utramque partem plurimum est ingenio loci” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 248, 7.4.23). Cf. subchs. 4.3, 8.5, herein.

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Evincing a decidedly rhetorical mind and approach, the ostensive Stoic Seneca states: “I am wont to cross over even into the enemy’s camp”—and immediately adds—“not as a deserter, but as a scout” (Ep. 1–65. 9, II.5); another effectual instance of a sustainable interplay of the martial and the oratorical.88 Likewise Quintilian: “The orator […] must know his adversaries’ plans as the general does the enemy’s” (Inst. Orat. 11–12. 215, 12.1.35).89 The (probably) sole bearing—the only conduct—outperforming a hexical reckoning with positional contingency is provisionally enacting it: quasi mimetically; or in fact. As in warfare, so in words: a dynamics of contention and contradiction—of virtually reconnoitering (hence anticipating, potentially neutralizing) an other’s counteractions or objections when mounting or positing one’s own—informs the art’s vital principle of developing a general capacity for arguing “in utramque partem vel in plures” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.1).90

|| 88 “soleo enim et in aliena castra transire, non tamquam transfuga, sed tamquam explorator” (Ep. 1–65. 8, II.5). Thereto, cf. Altman (7n.); Foucault (“Self Writing” 212–213), in another sense. Aristotle observes that arguments ad hominem might stand in the way of a sober procedure: “This is a habit which we all share, of relating an inquiry not to the subject-matter [‘πρᾶγμα’] itself, but to our opponent in argument. A man will even pursue a question in his own mind no farther than the point at which he finds nothing to say against [‘ἀντιλέγειν’] his own arguments. Therefore[,] to be a good investigator[,] a man must be alive to the objections inherent in the genus of his subject, an awareness which is the result of having studied all its differentiae [‘τὰς διαφοράς’]” (Heavens 226–227, 294b, II.xiii). The latter may seem affine to Kant’s counsel “in jeder wissenschaftlichen Untersuchung mit aller möglichen Genauigkeit und Offenheit seinen Gang ungestört fortzusetzen, ohne sich an das zu kehren, wowider sie außer ihrem Felde etwa verstoßen möchte, sondern sie für sich allein, so viel man kann, […] zu vollführen” (“KpV” 233–234, A191–192, I.i.iii; with Schopenhauer “Grundprobleme” 447, I.v; and Nichols “Auerbach” 176, 176n.). In all likelihood, the most promising method would be to syndicate adversarial perspective taking with a determined diligence. 89 Moos logs: “argumentative ‘Kriegsspiele’ schärfen […] das Denken in utramque partem” (Geschichte als Topik 289–291, §70). Generally, he observes: “Die Argumentationskunst, deren Beherrschung im Streit Erfolg […] verspricht, beruht auf der Kenntnis oder geistigen Präsenz aller möglichen Gesichtspunkte für und wider einen Gedanken, […] in der Ausbildung eines […] allseitigen Problembewußtseins”; “in Ermanglung eines Opponenten”, one may “mit sich selbst einen fiktiven Disput […] führen” (Geschichte als Topik 253, §63). The scholar stresses “den experimentellen Dialog als Denkform”; “das eristische Als ob in der Wissensbildung”; “die hypothetische Ernstfall-Simulation”; a “‘Denken in Alternativen’” (Geschichte als Topik 253–254, §63). Moos notes the nexus with the “Progymnasmata oder praeexercitamina”: “Die Methode, aus Fiktionen aller Art, insbesondere aus fiktiven Konfliktsituationen denken und reden zu lernen, gehörte längst vor ihrer hochmittelalterlichen Blüte und Expansion […] zu den Grundpfeilern des mittelalterlichen Bildungswesens, das im wesentlichen dasjenige der spätantiken Rhetorenschule fortsetzte” (Geschichte als Topik 254, §63). 90 As to the former, Bers offers this historical dimension: “An aspiring orator paid Protagoras

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With regard to accustoming oneself to the practice of this precise technique, Cicero’s ‘Crassus’ employs the highest praise: a person […] able in Aristotelian fashion to speak [‘dicere’] on both sides about every subject [‘in utramque sententiam’] and […] [to develop, ‘explicare’] two speeches on opposite sides on every case [‘in omni causa duas contrarias orationes’][;] or in the manner of Arcesila[u]s and Carneades argue [‘disserat’] against every statement put forward [‘contra omne quod propositum’] […][—]he would be the one and only true and perfect orator. (“De Orat. III” 64–65, III.xxi.80)91

Ever mindful of positional, perspectival contingency, a qualified rhetorician cannot but reason ‘always also on the other sides’. Oratorically, this mode is fundamental—for the téchne’s emergence, its discursive history, continued practice, and lasting effect on other fields and disciplines. Sloane’s diachronic accent would seem irrefutable: “The ancient alliance of rhetoric and two-sided argument is historically unmistakable” (“Education” 165). || or another sophist for instruction […] to develop a general ability to argue any side in any case by drawing on a repertory of arguments” (179). Generally, see Niehues-Pröbsting (Die antike Phil. 55). Concerning rhetoric’s resp. mental habit, Neumann logs a “consuetudo contrarias in partis disserendi” (269; with Cicero “De Re Pub.” 190; III.v.8). As to the drill, Schiappa states: “the capacities for thinking and speaking critically were (and are) perfected by the exercise of formulating arguments pro and contra with regard to any topic” (“Antilogie” 706; trans. dsm). Cf. Dietz: “The swift availability of arguments pro and contra for simply any [‘beliebige’] proposition is trained in exercising antilogy” (1390; trans. dsm). On “Erasmus’s frequent use of prolepsis, or anticipatory refutation”, see Sloane (Contrary 81; with 163, 174). 91 The actual sequence: “verus […] perfectus […] solus” (“De Orat. III” 64, III.xxi.80). See Trimpi (Muses 288n.); Blass (Beredsamkeit II. 62–63; 62n.–63n.; incl. further references); Moos (Geschichte als Topik 254, §63). In Cicero, cf. also: “id fuit Socraticum maxime—non quid ipse sentiret ostendere sed contra id quod quisque se sentire dixisset disputare” (“De Orat. III” 54, III.xviii.67). “Peripateticorum Academiaeque consuetudo de omnibus rebus in contrarias partes disserendi” (Tusc. Disp. 154, II.iii.9; see “De fato” 196, II.4); “ab Aristoteleque principe de singulis rebus in utramque partem dicendi est instituta, ut non contra omnia semper, sicut Arcesilas, diceret, et tamen ut in omnibus rebus quidquid ex utraque parte dici posset expromeret” (De Fin. 400, V.iv.10; plus “Orator [1962]” 400, XXXVI.127). Cf. Ross (56); Fuhrmann (Spätantike 152). In an affine context, Quintilian refers to the “mos in utramque partem disserendi”—spec. “ad exercitationem forensium causarum proxime accedat” (Inst. Orat. 11–12. 232, 12.2.25; with 233n.). See Eden: “what Cicero calls the mos Aristotelius” is “another term describing the procedure of arguing on either side of a question” (Rhet. Trad. 11; with “Aristotelio more”, Cicero “De Orat. III” 64, III.xxi.80). Cf. Kablitz with regard to Petrarca’s ethopoetic refunctionalization (“Ende” 546–547, 546n.–547n.). Sloane takes the technique at issue qua rhetoric in nuce: “eloquence […] arises from wariness, and in such wariness lies […] contrarianism […][—]generating arguments with one eye on the opposition […][;] developing ideas on both sides of the question” (Contrary 124; cf. 123; “Education” 173–174).

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Tying in with 8.3, 8.2, the aforesaid reciprocity of proof and refutation, this subchapter gives prominence to the functionality of dispute on more than one pars; and precisely with a view to a rhetorical poetics of contradiction. To this effect, the present dispositio follows Quintilian. By special treatment (see Inst. Orat. 6–8. 124, 6.4.3), the Roman rhetorician distinguishes an affine (forensic) modus—the quick to and fro (pro et contra) as will actually occur in court (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 124–135, 6.4.1–22): “Altercation indeed consists in attack [‘intentione’] or rebuttal [‘depulsione’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 124–125, 6.4.2). The difference to proof and refutation is procedural: “We do not say different things [‘Neque alia’] in altercation [‘in altercatione’], but we say them in a different way [‘sed aliter’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 124–125, 6.4.2).92 Having virtually (preparatorily, heuristically) argued et in plures partes immediately conduces to the (not just forensic) activity of altercating.93 In terms of its bidirectionally agonal dynamics—and with regard to written texts—this very technique provides the operative groundwork for a rhetorical poetics of

|| 92 Quintilian distinguishes altercatio by stating: “neque perfectus orator sine hac virtute dici potest” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 124, 6.4.3); “the fiercest [‘asperrima’] battle [‘dimicatio’] is in the Altercation; nowhere else […] is there so much hand-to-hand fighting [‘magis mucrone pugnari’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 126–127, 6.4.4)—with refutation (spec. “refellenda mendacia”) also being central thereto (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 126, 6.4.5). “What is most needed [sc. in altercations] is a quick and nimble mind [‘ingenio veloci ac mobili’] and prompt and penetrating thought [‘animo praesenti et acri’]. There is no time to think [‘Non enim cogitandum’]; one has to speak there and then [‘sed dicendum statim est’], and make one’s thrust almost at the same moment as the adversary makes his” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 126–127, 6.4.8). On fervency in actio: “Contentio [‘ἐναγώνιος λόγος’] est oratio acris ad confirmandum et ad confutandum adcommodata” (Rhet. ad Her. 196, III.xiii.23, 196n.). See Wilson: “the definite question ([…] which concerneth some one person) is most agreeing to the purpose of an orator, considering particular matters in the law are ever debated betwixt certain persons, the one affirming for his part and the other denying as fast again for his part” (45–46, I, l.31–32 and l.1–3). 93 On the nexus of altercation—gainsaying in actu—with (provisionally, inventively) arguing in utramque partem, see Quintilian: “Everything should always be prepared [‘praeparanda’] in advance, by carefully [‘diligenter’] rehearsing the possible moves of the other party [‘quae (…) ex adverso dici’] and our own possible replies [‘responderi’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 130–131, 6.4.14). As to altercatio qua (forensic) vita activa: “for the other side’s arguments [‘quae ex contrario dicuntur’] have not only to be refuted [‘refutanda’] but despised [‘contemnenda’], disparaged [‘elevanda’], and ridiculed [‘ridenda’]; […] brawlers have to be met with boldness [‘contra turbantes audendum’], and impudence resisted with courage [‘et impudentiae fortiter resistendum’]” (Inst. Orat. 6–8. 128–129,6.4.10). For an Early Modern example, see Wesche on Gryphius (145–147). Cf. Mayfield (“Interplay” 14–15; 15n.; 34); also as to a Cervantine coloquio (“Against” 12–33, spec. 29). Generally, see Schopenhauer on “disputatio in utramque partem” (PP II. 190, VIII, §112); on “staging […] the pro et contra” (PP II. 187, VIII, §112; trans. dsm).

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contradiction. Its (noetic) condition of possibility will naturally be contingency: the experienceable factum that positions, things—and the views thereof—might as well be otherwise (to begin with). The craft and its arguing also on other sides are effectively inseparable—at a variety of levels.94 Historically, the téchne rhetorikè originated in forensic praxis; the latter’s influence persists in several regards, and throughout all genera. Along said lines, it is decisive that polydirectional argument emerges and thrives in a politico-juridical milieu based on ‘also hearing the other side’—the principle of “audiatur et altera pars” (Burckhardt Griech. Kultur. III. 310).95 Referring to the respective technique in affine terms, Schiappa stresses: There seems to be a connection between the prevalence of a[ntilogia] and differences in worldview. A[ntilogia] may be encountered in Ancient Greece, as regards the democratic relativism of Protagoras […]; controversia only flourishes, where the legal system is healthy […]. The pedagogical and literary status of a[ntilogia] is first and foremost the product of the political and philosophical climate of a particular era. […] In utramque partem disputare remains a familiar stylistic device of literature. […] [it] is one of the most enduring habits of thought in the history of rhetoric. (“Antilogie” 707; trans. dsm)96 || 94 Wilson states: “Rhetoric is an art […][,] a learned […] declaration of the mind in the handling of any cause called in contention” (45, I, l.1–3). Skinner glosses: “the essential skill is that of knowing how to argue persuasively in utramque partem, on both sides of a case” (Forensic 44; cf. 7, 19, 24–25, 25n., 49, 57, 109, 293). See also Aristotle’s general description: “Rhetoric [‘ῥητορικὴ’] […] may be defined as the faculty [‘δύναμις’] of discovering [‘θεωρῆσαι’] the possible means of persuasion [‘τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον πιθανόν’] in reference to any subject whatever. This is the function [‘ἔργον’] of no other of the arts [‘τέχνης’]” (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1). Cf. the onset of ch. 4; as well as subch. 4.2, herein. 95 Kennedy logs: “Clearly there was often much to be said on the other side of the case that the speaker tries to refute or obscure” (New History 67). See Shakespeare’s Duke’s addressing Angelo: “Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence / That yet can do thee office” (MM [Lever] 142, V.i.361–362; MM [Eccles] 261, TLN 2744–2745). Similarly: “But, Othello, speak”, with context (Oth 142, 1.3.111; cf. 1.3.111–121; and Skinner Forensic 277–278). Generally, see Mayfield (“Interplay” 15n.). An effect of culture: silencing the other side(s) need not involve force. 96 Altman notes that “the controversia became a social entertainment under the early Roman Empire” (28). Lanham gives “antilogy” as “the ability to argue with equal skill on either side of a question” (2). As regards “[a]ntilogic […] in a technical sense”, Kerferd states: “The essential feature is the opposition of one logos to another either by contrariety or contradiction” (63). He stresses that “antilogic […] is perhaps the most characteristic feature of the thought of the whole sophistic period” (85). Cf. Schiappa: “As a technical term[,] the word ‘antilogía’ did not gain a foothold until the later [phases of] Greek rhetorical education. It mainly signifies contradiction or objection” (“Antilogie” 704; trans. dsm; with Protagoras 164–165). “In the history of rhetoric[,] the word a[ntilogy] is mostly utilized to […] [denote] a pedagogical praxis that one […] might define as ‘debate’, and a stylistic characteristic in literature and drama, which is sometimes called in utramque partem disputare (discussing bidirectionally)”

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Oratory being an art of effect(uality), any technique in its arsenals must have proven expedient under certain (previous) circumstances.97 As to forensic encounters, Fuhrmann accentuates that “[t]he back and forth between accusation and defense” requires a “constant change of perspective”; by drawing thereon, “the Sophistic [movement] discovered disputation pro et contra[,] and did not tire in” its efforts at “testing the astounding effects, which could be achieved by way of this art” (Die antike Rhetorik 22; trans. dsm).98 Consequently, orators tended to develop a “habit” (Neumann 269; trans. dsm; see 266; and “consuetudo”, Cicero “De Re Pub.” 190, III.v.8) of taking the corresponding alter’s perspective—with a view to effectuality. Branham calls it “the cornerstone of sophistic thought, that either side of any question can be argued with equal success”; while adding that, “[o]n this model, ‘truth’ is nothing more than a rhetorical effect” (Unruly 70; see Sloane Contrary 14, 14n.). Verities are not only plural; but ever already contingent to begin with.99 The technique’s expediency will likely be grounded in its conducing to a consummate impression of plausibility, verisimilitude—always decisive for an art of suasion. Ventriloquistically, Cicero has his dialogic ‘Crassus’ declare: we must argue every question [‘de omni re’] on both sides [‘in contrarias partes’], and bring out on every topic [‘in quaque re’] whatever points can be deemed plausible [‘probabile’][.] (De Orat. I–II. 108–109, I.xxxiv.158)100

In terms of function, this use of argument in utramque partem (vel in plures) is to enable, facilitate rhetorical inventio, as well: “Sed etiam ex contrario argumenta || (“Antilogie” 701; trans. dsm). As to the term’s ramifications: “antilogía […] disputatio […] Gegenrede [‘counter-speech’] […] may also simply signify ‘contradiction’ […] ‘dissension’ […] objection […] in order to adduce a refutation” (“Antilogie” 701; trans. dsm). 97 Cf. “Conviction is attained by speeches and counter-speeches delivered on both sides of a question […]. This antilogic is not confined to these occasions, but extends to all spheres of thought and speech. Ultimately it consists in the ability to compare everything with everything else” (Jaeger 188; plus 332n.; Plato “Phaedrus” 516–519, 261A–B; 520–521, 261E; 530–531, 265A). 98 In Early Modern times: “the student was taught to imagine himself in circumstances utterly unlike his own and to see with eyes other than his own” (Altman 45). On refutation (by recourse to Aphthonius), he adds: “The destructio or subversio […] taught him to overthrow any argument based on probability with one of his own, based on a counter-probability” (46). 99 On the else- and chancefulness of ‘truths’, see also subch. 4.3, herein. 100 Cf. Sloane thereto (Contrary 1–2). Generally, Quintilian: “Quaestio latius intellegitur omnis de qua in utramque partem vel in plures dici credibiliter potest” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.1; plus Lausberg Handbuch 51, §55). On the various nexus of rhetorical ventriloquism and argument in utramque partem, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 11n.; 14, 14n.–15n.; 22n.; 76, 76n.; 92, 92n.; 121n.; 139n.; 152n.; 157n.; 172n.; 179n.; 187; 191–192, 192n.; incl. further references).

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ducuntur” (“Arguments are also taken from Contraries”, Quintilian Inst. Orat. 6–8. 232–233, 7.3.30)—a convenient reciprocity via procedural inversion already encountered concerning confirmation and confutation.101 This heuristic praxis of multidirectional argument—of ‘always provisionally taking also the adversary’s perspective(s)’—is likely to turn into a (self-induced) disposition (héxis) in any qualified rhétor.102 The technique itself will then quasi metastasize, permeating all intellectual habits—and not only the immediately alter-related ones.103 Concerning his noetic conduct during times of uncertainty and distress, Cicero can therefore write the ensuing: || 101 Cf. subch. 8.3.1. See Sloane: “the inventive process in rhetoric is not only dialogic but controversial, even disputatious” (Contrary 30); “resourcefulness […] draws its strength from a lawyerly willingness to argue both sides of a question” (Contrary 86); and is “achiev[ed] […] through pro-con reasoning” (Contrary 87). He consistently accentuates “rhetorical-disputatious inventio” (Contrary 127); its “use […] in generating arguments pro and con” (Contrary 128). 102 Cf. Milton’s asyndetic tricolon: “to discover, to confute, to forewarn” (“Areopagitica” 348; adding, “and to illustrate”; see Dobranski 43–44). On “sententiae pro and con a given theme”— “pro and con lists under any heading”—cf. Jardine (225n.; plus 224–226, spec. “epigrammatical statements for and against”, 224; “‘both ways’”, 225). With respect to Early Modern developments, Altman intimates a polytropic treatment not only “from opposite sides of the question but also in different contexts” (42): “Bacon’s […] program is the […] culmination of that method of examining a question in utramque partem” (43). 103 Sloane logs that “even in the advisory suasoria when no opponent is manifest the speaker must still refute unspoken objections in his hearers’ minds – […] rhetorical education trained him to do that by training him to play his own opponent’s role, requiring him to give voice to those objections through arguing the other side of the case in a dissuasoria. This centrality of disputatio in utramque partem is made abundantly clear by Quintilian” (“Education” 167). Stressing “the extraordinary dexterity with which the trained rhetorician was able to simultaneously entertain two opposing points of view” (32), Altman notes that the Humanists’ “pursuit of” rhetoric “produced in them an eristic turn of mind that permanently affected the way they conducted themselves, […] read, and […] wrote. This habit was expressed in many forms. Arguing both sides of the question was frequently employed as a method of political inquiry and (not infrequently) of political hedging; it appears as a mode of theological speculation and […] scientific investigation. But it is also turned to use simply as a creative pastime” (32). Tying “the culture of humanism” to the “Ars rhetorica”, Skinner accentuates “its characteristic insistence that there will always be two sides to any question, and thus that in moral reasoning it will always be possible to construct a plausible argument in utramque partem” (“Ambiguity” 269; later termed “its governing assumption”, 270). In Isabella’s case (cf. subch. 8.1), the forensico-psychomachic imagery intimates that the (virtual, internal) dispute primarily concerns herself; resp. a decision on her part. The impression she (craftily) effects signals what an (intra- and extra-dramatic) audience is thought capable of tying in with—hence what will appear momentaneously plausible. Thus a discursive praxis otherwise pertaining to the public space has entered the ‘private’ realm of ‘souci de soi’ (this gloss concerning MM is indebted to Küpper’s remarks on the ms. of the ch. at hand; Oct 23, 2017). As to the technique’s

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Practising myself upon these [general] questions[,] and setting out the arguments on either side [‘et disserens in utramque partem’], now in Greek now in Latin, I take my mind for a while off my troubles and at the same time ponder matters of relevance [‘et τῶν προὔργου τι delibero’]. (Atticus III. 28–29, §173.3, IX.4)104

As the very surface of the signifiers might evince, this deliberative diversion—or calculated shifting—of attention (‘escapism’, perchance) is both notional and linguistic. Not only does the orator take everything to the other side—here with a view to virtual equanimity. Cicero will also seek intellectual relief in another language—balancing his own, while yielding the added value of incidentally accommodating the letter’s philhellenic addressee (in form and its content). With rhetoric’s practitioners holding self-evident that effect be the measure, any technique’s operative poly-functionality will tend to be key for its continued application, and (quasi) canonical status in the respective traditions. Argument et in plures partes is of virtually heuristic, anticipative value to the ego (in attack and defense the same).105 Concerning an alter, the procedure serves as a preparation for mind-to-mind altercatio in vivo, respectively as a politic or diplomatic tool. Even so, the device is ultimately not safe from itself; and Seneca goes so far as to—ventriloquistically, while verisimilarly—put this into the mouth of its (purported, polytropic) initiator: Protagoras ait de omni re in utramque partem disputari posse ex aequo et de hac ipsa, an omnis res in utramque partem disputabilis sit. Protagoras declares that one can take either side on any question and debate it with equal success—even on this very question, whether every subject can be debated from either point of view. (Ep. 66–92. 374–376, LXXXVIII.43)106

|| polydirectionality, see Nachod—giving Cicero’s “in utramque partem” as “discussed ‘in both directions’” (Petrarca “Self-Portrait” 35n.). 104 Cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 360–361, 10.5.11); with Trimpi (Muses 10n.); Altman (80n.). Cicero’s (Greek) list of quaestiones infinitae opens with the ensuing: “Ought a man to remain in his country under a despotism [‘τυραννουμένης’]?” (Atticus III. 28–29, §173, IX.4). 105 Marti cites a “1659” tract: “[s]omeone may even engage in disputation alone[,] ‘mentaliter tacitè adversariorum argumenta expendendo’ (pondering the adversary’s arguments taciturnly in the mind)” (“Disputation” 870n.; trans. dsm). Cf. the examples in Gray (509; 511; 513). 106 See Diels/Kranz (Vorsokratiker II. 260, 80A20); Sloane (Contrary 14); Schiappa (Protagoras 89; 100n.). Montaigne will be a (Skeptically) habitualized practitioner of argument in utramque partem (cf. e.g. Essais I. 121–125, I.i; 143–149, I.v–vi; Essays 3–5, I.1; 16–19, I.5–6; with Kablitz “Semantik” 125–144; spec. 131, 138; and Mack 65). Above all: “Maintes fois (comme il m’advient de faire volontiers) ayant pris pour exercice et pour ébat, à maintenir une contraire opinion à la mienne, mon esprit s’appliquant et tournant de ce côté-là, m’y attache si bien, que je ne trouve

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Once the notion of contingency has taken hold of a mind, it may tend to affect— perchance even reshape—virtually any thought, word, or performance.

|| plus la raison, de mon premier avis, et m’en dépars” (Essais II. 344, II.xii; cf. Essays 426, II.12). Hence Montaigne also argues against gainsaying: “Nous n’apprenons à disputer que pour contredire et chacun contredisant et étant contredit”, etc. (Essais III. 208, III.viii; with Essays 706, III.8); cf. subch. 8.5.2, herein. Even so, positional and perspectival contingency conduce to argument in utramque partem—“Les sujets, ont divers lustres et diverses considérations: c’est de là que s’engendre principalement la diversité d’opinions. Une nation regarde un sujet par un visage, et s’arrête à celui-là: l’autre par un autre” (Essais II. 365, II.xii; cf. Essays 438, II.12). Otherwise, man’s formal capacities are seen as the condition of possibility (hence inevitability) of contradictions—“la raison fournit d’apparence à divers effets: c’est un pot à deux anses, qu’on peut saisir à gauche et à dextre” (Essais II. 366, II.xii; with Essays 438, II.12). “J’en pense de même de ces discours politiques: à quelque rôle qu’on vous mette, vous avez aussi beau jeu que votre compagnon, pourvu que vous ne veniez à choquer les principes trop grossiers et apparents” (Essais II. 472, II.xvii; with Essays 497, II.17; and Reiss 135). In general, see subchs. 3.3, 3.7, 4.4. Cf. Mack: “Much of Montaigne’s […] thought is driven by the motive of opposition” (63; plus 64–65). Rhetorically, his diverse views on (self-)contradiction (“Tant y a, que je me contredis bien à l’aventure”, Essais III. 35, III.ii; with context; Essays 611, III.2), contrarianism (“moi au rebours”, Essais II. 484, II.xviii; Essays 503, II.18) would merit a separate study. It might proceed from the particularly characteristic piece “De l’inconstance de nos actions” (Essais II. 13–22, II.i; with Essays 239–244, II.1).

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8.5 Case Studies Toward a Rhetorical Poetics of Contradiction Die negative Einstellung hat hier, wie so oft, die Sicht für das Wesentliche geschärft. —Blumenberg (“Nachahmung [2001]” 30)107

The ensuing—decidedly heuristic—considerations are to serve the purpose of provisionally suggesting the possible outlines of a rhetorically informed (or inflected) poetics of contradiction. The initial subchapter on Augustine and Machiavelli (8.5.1) highlights a discursively induced, paradigmatic gainsaying more generally; and especially as to the structuring potentials of the léxis. Focusing on three eminent Gracianian aphorisms, the second section (8.5.2) describes various techniques of contradiction more specifically; and also with respect to its corresponding effects in a given (textual, social, cultural) setting.

8.5.1 Confutation as a Dispositive Structuring Device: Augustine, Machiavelli But truth is contrary[.] —Bacon (Valerius Terminus 52 [227], §7)108 volunt vel reprehendi, dum conspici. —Seneca (Ep. 93–124. 314, CXIV.21)109

In his ‘retractationes’—reviewing, précising, revising certain previous works (see McCracken xlviii–xlix; lxx; lxxvi–lxxvii)—Augustine takes particular care to accentuate his modus in scripting The City of God: “I decided to write against [‘adversus (…) scribere’]” those, “to whom we commonly give the name of pagans” (“quos usitato nomine paganos vocamus”, “Retract. II.69” 2–3).110

|| 107 “Here, as so often, the negative aspect whetted the attention to the basics” (trans. dsm). 108 Cf. Blumenberg (Quellen 147). Considering the affinity in terms, it cannot be excluded that Bacon’s dictum ties in with Augustine: “veritas […] aliud dicit, et […] vanitati hominum apertissime contradicit” (“De Gratia” 904, XVIII.38). “Truth [sc. God] says otherwise and explicitly contradicts […] human vanity” (“Grace” 173, §18.38). 109 With context: “those […] who never deign to do anything which will escape general notice [‘hominum oculis transire’] […] endeavor to excite and attract men’s attention [‘in se advertunt’], and they put up even with censure [‘volunt vel reprehendi’], provided that they can advertise themselves [‘dum conspici’]” (Ep. 93–124. 314–315, CXIV.21). 110 Generally, Kustas: “Ἀνασκευή and κατασκευή were early turned into weapons of historical criticism. The Christian apologists used the techniques to counter the myths of the pagans, and Byzantine theological literature followed suit” (58, 58n.). He refers to Lausberg: “Die refutatio ist eine Waffe der historischen Kritik […]. Die christlichen Apologeten haben sie gegen die

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In the course of his respective, self-reviewing ‘re-treatment’, the Bishop of Hippo often employs terms indicating—or relating to—refutation: “refellunt” (“Retract. II.69” 2); “adversus […] loquuntur”, “adversariae refelluntur”, “Sed ne”, “redarguisse”, “reprehenderet”, “redarguamus adversa”—the latter four in one paragraph (“Retract. II.69” 4).111 Nor might the full title of Augustine’s magnum opus more unmistakably communicate the constituting, structuring function of gainsaying: de civitate Dei contra paganos.112 Likewise intratextually: of the 36 chapters in the first book, 15 begin with an adversative even in the first two words (to say nothing of the paragraphs within).113 It may seem fair to state that this work not only claims to be speaking contrarian talk, but also walks its path of dispute indeed—not least, by contradicting it(and him)self.114 Needless to say, the Church Father reckons with something like a restricted otherwiseness: each and all are potentially subject to it (hence to gainsaying)—

|| Mythen […] im Weltanschauungskampf benutzt” (Handbuch 541, §1125). Blumenberg’s ensuing caveat will obtain for all the contrarianisms to follow: “auch dort, wo sich das neue Bewußtsein von dem antiken als dem ‘heidnischen’ betont absetzt, bleibt die Gemeinsamkeit e i n e s Horizontes, der den ‘Dialog’ oder die ‘Apologie’ erst sinnvoll macht und in dem man sich über die verbindlichen Weisen der Argumentation einig ist. Es wäre reizvoll, dieses Moment etwa in den augustinischen ‘Contra’-Schriften herauszuheben” (Beiträge 32). Cf. Schopenhauer (“Eristische” 678, Dial.B3[9a]). 111 The resp. paragraph is decisive with regard to the interplay of claim and confutation: “But lest [‘Sed ne’] someone reply [‘redarguisse’] that we have only argued against [‘reprehenderet’] the opinions of others but have not stated [‘asseruisse’] our own, this is attended to in the second part of this work [‘pars altera operis’], which comprises twelve books. When need arises, however, our own position is also stated [‘asseramus’] in the first ten books, and opposing views are also refuted [‘redarguamus adversa’] in the twelve later books” (“Retract. II.69” 4–5). Marti notes “Augustine’s” holding “disputation in high esteem qua preeminent instrument in fighting for the Faith [‘Glaubenskampf’]” (“Disputation” 873; trans. dsm). 112 There tends to be added value in contrarianism, or gainsaying (as always: cui bono). 113 “SED” (de civ. Dei I–III. 56, I.xi); “AT” (de civ. Dei I–III. 58, I.xii); “NEC” (de civ. Dei I–III. 62, I.xiii); “SED” (de civ. Dei I–III. 66, I.xiv); “HABENT tamen” (de civ. Dei I–III. 68, I.xv); “AT” (de civ. Dei I–III. 78, I.xviii); “NEQUE” (de civ. Dei I–III. 90, I.xx); “SED tamen” (de civ. Dei I–III. 100, I.xxiii); “NOLUNT autem” (de civ. Dei I–III. 102, I.xxiv—continuing: “isti, contra quos agimus”); “AT” (de civ. Dei I–III. 106, I.xxv); “SED” (de civ. Dei I–III. 108, I.xxvi); “NON” (de civ. Dei I–III. 116, I.xxviii); “VERUM tamen” (de civ. Dei I–III. 130, I.xxxii); “ET tamen” (de civ. Dei I–III. 134, I.xxxiv); “SED” (de civ. Dei I–III. 138, I.xxxvi). Withal, cf. spec. the ch. “De Lucretia”—featuring this internally: “contradicere audebunt”, “contra” (de civ. Dei I–III. 82, I.xix), “Sed” (de civ. Dei I–III. 84, I.xix), “tamen”, “refutandos” (de civ. Dei I–III. 88, I.xix). See ch. 7 (spec. 7.2.1), herein. 114 As Küpper stresses: “Augustine also counters [and] contradicts himself, resp. his previous statements”—spec. “in the Retractationes” (n. to the ms. of this ch.; May 1, 2020; trans. dsm).

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except his God.115 Since there can be no plausible reasons for such a limitation, (Early Modern) Nominalism will later extend contingency to include the Deity: first, as if (“‘etsi deus non daretur’”, Marquard Aesthetica 87; see 88); then, in (textual) fact—at the latest with Nietzsche’s declaration of death in absentia.116 A reader inclined to provisionally adopt Machiavellian modes of thought might note that nothing better could have possibly occurred to Augustine than passing through the various intellectual or world-explanatory approaches of his day, in order to arrive at a blatantly antithetical one—at the most ostentatiously contradictory, outright oxymoronic, of them all (‘a god on a cross’).117 If naught else, this will have granted the lover of Cicero (and erstwhile orator) the rather gratifying opportunity of seriatim exhibiting his consummate rhetorical skill in gainsaying—not only a given polytheistic religion and most formidable antagonist (if strength be in numbers), but also—an overarching worldview (still) in prevalence at virtually all levels of socio-cultural life.118 || 115 Thereto—and as regards what follows above—cf. also subch. 4.4, herein. 116 “Gott ist todt! Gott bleibt todt! Und wir haben ihn getödtet!” (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 481, III.125)—“ist eine Muthmaassung” (Zarathustra [KSA 4] 109, II, “Auf den glückseligen Inseln”); “w e n n es Götter gäbe, wie hielte ich’s aus, kein Gott zu sein! A l s o giebt es keine” (Zarathustra [KSA 4] 109, II). “Gott ist todt” (Zarathustra [KSA 4] 115, II, “Von den Mitleidigen”; plus 294, IV; 326, IV, “Ausser Dienst”; with KSA 12. 119, 2[115]). Cf. Marquard (Gewaltenteilung 150–151). Above all, see Blumenberg: “Die Neuzeit begann zwar nicht als Epoche des toten Gottes, aber als Epoche des verborgenen Gottes, des deus absconditus – und ein verborgener Gott ist pragmatisch so gut wie ein toter. Die nominalistische Theologie alarmierte ein Weltverhältnis des Menschen, dessen Implikation in dem Postulat hätte formuliert werden können, der Mensch habe sich so zu verhalten, als ob Gott tot wäre” (Legitimität 404; with Küpper “Ordnung” 200, 200n.). Cf. Waldenfels: “Auf die Dauer droht das konzessive ‘etsi Deus non daretur – auch wenn es Gott n[i]cht gäbe’ sich zum Potentialis eines ‘si Deus non daretur — wenn es Gott nicht gäbe’ zu verschärfen, um sich schließlich in der Negation eines ‘Deus non datur – Gott gibt es nicht’ zu verfestigen” (375–376; plus 374). Contradictions tend to meet with the same, everything being contingent—hence never sans some fundamentum in re. 117 Nietzsche asserts “the g r a n d i o s e paradoxy [of] ‘the god on the cross’” qua “superlative of the paradoxical” (KSA 11. 86, 25[292]; trans. dsm; plus “Antichrist [KSA 6]” 232, §51). Cf. Kablitz (“Ende” 535n.). Villwock sees “the antithetical form of thought” as ‘deeply rooted’ “in the substance of the Christian revelation” (733; trans. dsm). As to “Nietzsche’s overall œuvre”, Blumenberg logs that “antithesis” is “not just a stylistic device and a rhetorical figure of speech, but […] the choice of the form itself”, as such (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 29; trans. dsm). Villwock notes: “antithetical inversion [is] downright characteristic of Nietzsche’s style of thinking” (747; trans. dsm); the latter applies to Heracleitus, as well (see 726–727). 118 For the Confessiones “as one long self-refutation”, cf. Eden (“Refutation” 64). On the “contradictoriness of this world as manifested in the conception of the two civitates”, see Küpper (Diskurs-Renovatio 244–245; trans. dsm; Discursive 235–237). Naturally (and malgré soi), the written refutation itself—scripta manent—conduced to the (latent) persistence of the

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While ‘disputing in utramque partem vel in plures’ has ever been rhetoric’s elemental rationale—since Antiquity, likewise during Humanist Renaissances— Machiavelli’s œuvre frankly (or obstinately) takes the oppositive side.119 Quasi habitually, he antagonizes what would else be judged the ‘better’ (traditional, moral, official) argument, which anyone may be taken to be familiar with. Analyzing the rhetorical economy of the Florentine’s most notorious work, Schulz-Buschhaus accentuates the repeated use of “the adversative turn of phrase ‘non di manco’ (nevertheless)” (Moralistik 17; trans. dsm).120 Even a quick || worldviews resisted; thence the various ‘renaissances’ (typically soi-disant). See Blumenberg: “Die in der augustinischen ‘Bekehrung’ eingeschmolzenen Elemente entfalten sich […] zu neuer Eigenbehauptung” (Beiträge 87). Likewise Küpper: “Christianity’s absorption of classical civilization guaranteed the ‘survival’ of many features of pagan culture, even if they were in […] more or less explicit contradiction to Christian principles” (“Uti and frui” S133n.–134n.; cf. S126–127; with Schweigen 49). “Since the Church Fathers were incapable of flatly denying the importance of pagan wisdom, they tried to integrate it” (“Trad. Cosmos” 381). Generally, Sloane logs: “books are often innocent of the uses actually made of them” (Contrary 236). The inversely complementary case being when a writer poetically ‘performs’ “a view of life” and the world, “a ‘philosophy’”: “Dante had behind him the system of […] Thomas [Aquinas], to which his poem corresponds point to point” (Eliot “Stoicism” 135)—the most holistic example for such an enactment in a Christian context; see Küpper (Discursive 250–253). As to Early Modernity, the condition of possibility for refuting an entire worldview had shifted, when compared to Augustine’s day. Christianity having prevailed—being the dominant dogma throughout Europe—any radical gainsaying would have to occur from within a long consolidated religion (see subch. 4.4, herein). The dispute between Erasmus and Luther over volitional freedom (cf. Winter viii; Sloane Contrary 144–152, spec. 147n.) will likely be the most notorious literary symptom of the resp. dynamics. While more complex than this surfacing phenomenon (needless to say), the ground swell is patently instanced thereby. Trying to refute Erasmus’ 1524 treatise de libero arbitrio by vehemently rejecting the Humanist’s outspoken and characteristic skepticism (cf. “Free Will” 4, I.2.Pref.; “διατριβή” 6–7, Ia4)—hence also attacking ad hominem— Luther proclaims: “one must delight in assertions to be a Christian at all”; by which term he means “a constant adhering to and affirming of your position, avowing and defending it, and invincibly persevering in it” (“Bondage” 88, II.603; with “De servo arb.” 226–227, WA603, StA180). Were it not Luther’s auto-ethopoetic trademark, his parrhesía would be remarkable indeed: “Nothing is more known and characteristic among Christians than assertions. Take away assertions and you take away Christianity” (“Bondage” 89, II.603; an even fiercer invective, in effect denying Erasmus’ faith, at 90, II.605; cf. “De servo arb.” 228–229, WA603, StA181; and 232–233, WA605, StA183; with Altman 35–36). 119 Usually after deliberating on both, or various ones; see Matthes (76). As to the Florentine’s ‘linguistic discourse’, Cope notes: “Nonetheless, Machiavelli sets himself in debate with Dante, challenging the paragon of Tuscan pride with all the mock humility of Socrates” (94). See the resp. intratextual dialog, putting words into the mouth of his forerunner (“Ma perché io voglio parlare un poco con Dante”, etc.; Machiavelli “Lingua” 219–222; cf. “Language” 181–185). 120 He also logs frequent “repetitions” as the “most flagrant stylistic [aspect] of the

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glance at the textual surface of the Italian source (or of any translation) will reveal that The Prince is rife with variants of “nondimeno” (Principe 118, XVIII.12; 170, XXVI.9), and affine adversative phrases.121 In line with Sophists of a Gorgianic variety, Machiavelli’s works almost inevitably take what is otherwise and usually conceived of as the ‘worse (even the worst)’ side.122 Sharing Plato’s respective proclivity for verbal theatrics, the Florentine then proceeds to spectacularly contradict the apparently ‘better’ argument by every trick in the versatile books of rhetoric. Exemplarily so, in the first sentence of his brazen treatise’s most controversial section: How praiseworthy it is for a prince to keep his faith, and to live with honesty and not by astuteness, everyone understands [‘ciascuno lo intende’]. Nonetheless [‘nondimanco’] one sees by experience in our times that the princes who have done great things are those who

|| Principe”—this being the “argumentative figure constitutive for Machiavelli’s thought” (Moralistik 17; trans. dsm). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 103n.). 121 See ‘nondimanco’ (e.g. at Principe 55, VII.5; 57, VII.11; 104, XVI.2; 108, XVII.1–2, twice in consecutive sentences; 109, XVII.7; 111, XVII.12; 115, XVIII.1; 129, XIX.39; 132, XIX.51; 138, XX.4; 153, XXI.28; with respect to the “libero arbitrio” above all: 162, XXV.4). The first word of ch. III: “Ma” (Principe 10, III.1; within: 13, III.11; 15, III.19; 19, III.31; 20, III.37; likewise, 54, VIII.1; 62, IX.1; 120, ch. XIX.1; plus Prince [Mansfield] 7, III; 34, VIII; 38, IX). A phrase recurring in variation throughout: “Ma torniamo alla materia nostra” (Principe 137, XIX.67; cf. e.g. 19, III.31; 47, VII.29). See the use of “Al contrario” (Principe 27, IV.13); “altrimenti” (Principe 78, XII.2; 107, XVI.16; “otherwise”, Prince [Mansfield] 48, XII); “anzi” (Principe 152, XXII.24; “on the contrary”, Prince [Mansfield] 91, XXI). Concerning verbal choice, see these inceptions: “Non si maravigli alcuno” (Principe 32, VI.1; with 171, XXVI.14). “Nessuna cosa fa tanto stimare uno principe” (Principe 146, XXI.1). “Non è di poca importanza” (Principe 153, XXII.1). “Non voglio lasciare indreto” (Principe 156, XXIII.1). “E’ non mi è incognito” (Principe 161; XXV.1). Cf. the notorious opening of ch. XIV—contradicting entire political traditions (by implication): “Thus, a prince should have no [‘non’] other object, nor [‘né’] any other thought, nor [‘né’] take anything else as his art but [‘fuora’] that of war” (Prince [Mansfield] 58, XIV; Principe 97, XIV.1). Evidently, “disputare questa materia” (Principe 102, XV.2) entails a separate study. Structurally, Machiavelli’s modus operandi seems comparable to Augustine’s. Küpper observes that, as in the case of the “Retractationes, the resp. formulae not only introduce refutations of the doxa, but frequently also critical rejoinders to positions that Machiavelli HIMSELF had previously maintained; it is distinctive of Machiavelli that this ‘sic et non’ often remains unresolved” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; May 1, 2020; trans. dsm; italics added). 122 Cf. “Nunca por tema seguir el peor partido porque el contrario se adelantó y escogió el mejor” (Gracián Oráculo 179, §142). Said aphorism deals with argument in utramque partem in diverse settings—ever depending on the opponent; should the latter happen to have chanced upon the better side first—while being ‘vulgar’, ‘temático’, “necio”—it will be expedient to agree with him, her: “Para echarle de lo mejor es único remedio abraçarlo proprio” (Oráculo 179, §142). Taxonomically, cf. this density of references (plus the aforecited): “del contrario”, “oponérsele”, “contradezir”, “parte de la razón”, “a la contraria parte”, etc. (Oráculo 179, §142).

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have taken little account of faith and have known how to get around men’s brains with their astuteness; and in the end they have overcome those who have founded themselves on loyalty. (Prince [Mansfield] 68–69, XVIII; Principe 115, XVIII.1)123

The conventional argument—which ‘all’ are said to ‘know or understand’— marks the onset of this cynicalmost of segments: one sentence, tying in with the official version, labeled ‘common knowledge’. The remainder of that contrarian manual proceeds to give instances of just such ‘nonethelessness’; even while—a fact that rather ‘sustainably scandalizes’ recipients—expressly advocating such conduct, and the corresponding techniques.124 Rhetoric’s condition of possibility is (reckoning with) contingency—its measure, victory. Lest the above—literally antinomian—tendency be deemed some isolated occurrence, one might cite from the Preface to the First Book of the Discourses on Livy. It commences with an ostentatiously contrarian sentence: Although the envious nature of men has always made it no less dangerous to find new modes and orders than to seek unknown waters and lands, because men are more ready to blame than to praise the actions of others, nonetheless [‘nondimanco’], driven by that natural desire that has always been in me to work, without any respect [‘sanza alcuno respetto’], for those things I believe will bring common benefit to everyone, I have decided to take a path as yet untrodden by anyone[.] (Discourses 5, I.Pref.; “Discorsi” 56)125

The reciprocity of gainsaying and (a claim to) effectual variation (vulgo: novelty) is critical to the rhetorikè téchne; and the catalyst of a corresponding poetics of contradiction—tending to underwrite and propel any ‘avant-garde’ (soi-disant), or currently up-and-coming ‘modernism’ (at whichever time).126 Things may well be otherwise; if not in fact, then at least said to be so. || 123 “Quanto sia laudabile in uno principe il mantenere la fede e vivere con integrità e non con astuzia, ciascuno lo intende; nondimanco si vede per esperienza ne’ nostri tempi quelli principi avere fatto gran cose, che della fede hanno tenuto poco conto e che hanno saputo con l’astuzia aggirare e’ cervelli delli uomini: e alla fine hanno superato quelli che si sono fondati in su la realtà [sc. ‘sincerità’, ‘lealtà’]” (Principe 115, XVIII.1; 115n.). 124 Pertinently, Kablitz describes “Machiavellis ‘Principe’” as “fortwährende[s] Skandalon” (“Selbstinszenierung” 548). See Küpper (“Ordnung” 210–211, 211n.); Mayfield (Artful 98–108). 125 “Ancora che, per la invida natura degli uomini, sia sempre suto non altrimenti periculoso trovare modi ed ordini nuovi, che si fusse cercare acque e terre incognite, per essere quelli più pronti a biasimare che a laudare le azioni d’altri; nondimanco, spinto da quel naturale desiderio che fu sempre in me di operare, sanza alcuno respetto, quelle cose che io creda rechino comune benefizio a ciascuno, ho deliberato entrare per una via, la quale, non essendo suta ancora da alcuno trita”, etc. (“Discorsi” 56; plus Principe 149, XXI.11). See Strauss (Thoughts 40); Mansfield (“Cuckold” 1); Mayfield (Artful 109; 197, 197n.). 126 On the ‘evocation’ of an “aesthetic counter-will [‘Gegenwillen’]” (Arbeit 502; trans. dsm;

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8.5.2 Rhetorically Informed Techniques of Contradiction: Gracián Aber ein Balanciren mit Gegengewichten ist überall nöthig, wo eine grosse Kraft ist. —Nietzsche (KSA 7. 712, 29[204])127

Hardly less subversive than Machiavelli’s writings (perchance subtly more so), Gracián is but seldom seen as such. To a considerable degree, this will be due to his peculiarly insinuative écriture, which (while highly antithetical in terms of elocutio) does appear to strike a balance between opposing views—in keeping with the rhetorical technique of arguing ‘in utramque partem vel in plures’.128 Being contingent, surfaces may be deceptive—to say nothing of depths. In his Oráculo manual y arte de prudencia, Gracián characteristically focuses on contradiction in differing contexts and from various viewpoints—one of which being to gainsay the same. Accordingly, aphorism 135 counsels: Do not maintain a spirit of contradiction [‘contradición’], for this is to encumber oneself [‘cargarse’] with folly and vexation; sound sense [‘cordura’] is to conspire [‘conjurarse’] against it [‘contra él’]. It may well be ingenious to render everything difficult, but the headstrong [‘lo porfiado’] cannot escape from [being] foolhardy. Such make a confrontation [‘guerilla’, a ‘small war’] out of suave conversation, and so are more the enemies of their familiars than of those who do not have dealings with them. In the most savory mouthful one notices more the bone boring through it, and so is contradiction [‘contradición’] during phases of relaxation; such [folk] are foolish [and] pernicious, adding the feral to the brutish [in terms of bearing]. (Oráculo 175, §135; trans. dsm)129

|| see the accent on “the objection […] produced” elsewhere: Beschreibung 503; trans. dsm), Blumenberg observes that “aesthetic self-proclamations […] have a tendency to be counterpositions: art against art, potentially god against god” (Arbeit 499; trans. dsm). 127 “Even so[,] a balancing with counterweights is needful wherever a great force is [in play]” (trans. dsm). Cf. Lichtenberg: “Die Wahrheit […] steht nie aufrechter, als wenn sie, dem kräftigen pro gegenüber, von einem kräftigen contra gestützt wird” (“Physiognomik” 259). 128 Villwock logs “Gracian[’s] antithetical style” (743; trans. dsm). As to the pan-European Baroque, cf. that “WEISE” deems “a[ntithesis] […] the constitutive factor of acute diction”, wherein “‘we’ collocate ‘contraria or conflicting cases’” (qtd. in: Villwock 741; trans. dsm). 129 “No tenga espíritu de contradición, que es cargarse de necedad y de enfado; conjurarse ha contra él la cordura. Bien puede ser ingenioso el dificultar en todo, pero no se escapa de necio lo porfiado. Hazen estos guerrilla de la dulce conversación, y assí son enemigos más de los familiares que de los que no les tratan. En el más sabroso vocado se siente más la espina que se atraviessa, y eslo la contradición de los buenos ratos; son necios perniciosos, que añaden lo fiera a lo bestia” (Oráculo 175, §135); “buenos ratos” could be trans. ‘good times’. Cf. Mayfield on this aphorism (Artful 240). For the authoritative German version, see Schopenhauer, giving the motto as “K e i n e n W i d e r s p r u c h s g e i s t h e g e n” (“Hand-Orakel” 190, §135; cf. Gracián Handorakel 77–78, §135). More informally in Robbins’ ed. (Pocket 50, §135).

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Beneath elocutio’s veritably alluring luminosity (see “contradición”, “cargarse”, “conjurarse”, “contra”, “cordura”, all in one sentence), the rhetorically decisive aspect is the aptum (contextual, situational appropriateness). Specifically, this aphorism describes the negative results of routine (or excessive) contradiction, so indicating a defensive viewpoint. In this manner, gainsaying as such is not disqualified. On the contrary: to be feckful (this being implied), it should come at the right kairós.130 When the time is not one of leisure—or an alter (respectively the enemy) is relaxing his guard—a pointed objection (or confrontation), calculated to complicate matters for the other party, may well prove expedient. The rhetorical lesson par excellence: effects depend on contexts; the latter are contingent. Then again, the above is not an outright rejection of contradiction: Know [how] to contradict [‘saber contradezir’, sc. ‘Be skilled at contradicting’]. It is a grand ruse [‘treta’] for testing [‘tentar’, also: ‘tempting’], not for embrangling oneself [‘empeñarse’], but for entangling [‘empeñar’] [the other]. It is the thumbscrew [‘torcedor’] sui generis, the one which makes the affects vault. Listlessness [‘tibieza’, more literally: ‘tepidity’] in believing them is a vomitive for secrets, key to the best-locked chest. With grand subtlety [‘sutileza’] it probes [‘Házese (…) la tentativa’, also: ‘tempts’] the will [‘voluntad’] and the understanding [‘juizio’] equally. An astute [‘sagaz’] depreciation of the other’s mysterious word gives chase to [‘da caça’, ‘hunts out’] the most profound secrets, and with suaveness [‘con suavidad’] brings them onto the tongue bit by bit and into the nets [‘redes’] of the artful fraud [‘artificioso engaño’]. The reticence of the wary [‘en el atento’] has the other stumble in his caution [‘recato’] and [so] discovers the other’s [inmost] thoughts [‘el ageno sentir’][—]which core was otherwise inscrutable. An affected doubt is the most subtle [‘sutil’] picklock [‘ganzúa’] for curiosity [‘curiosidad’] to ascertain [‘saber’] what it will[;] and even with regard to learning [‘aprender’], it is the student’s [‘discípulo’] ruse [‘treta’] to contradict [‘contradezir’] the teacher [‘maestro’], who more conatively entrances himself [‘se empeña’] in the clarification and foundations of the truth; so that the moderate impugnation [‘impugnación’, ‘contestation’] gives occasion to a complete instruction [‘enseñança’]. (Oráculo 219, §213; trans. dsm)131

|| 130 As to “ὁ καιρὸς”, the dissoì lógoi have: “everything is right in the appropriate situation [‘πάντα καιρῶι μὲν καλά ἐντι’]” (“Dissoi” 884–885, §2); spec. “to run away from one’s enemies in battle is wrong, but to run away from one’s competitors [‘ἀγωνιστὰς’] in a foot race is right” (“Dissoi” 882–883, §2). Cf. Guthrie: “One essential to the art was the sense of occasion, kairos, the right time or opportunity […]. The speaker must adapt his words to the audience and […] situation” (The Sophists 272). See subch. 6.2; as well as ch. 7 (spec. 7.2.2, 7.2.3), herein. 131 “Saber contradezir. Es gran treta del tentar, no para empeñarse, sino para empeñar. Es el único torcedor, el que haze saltar los afectos. Es un vomitivo para los secretos la tibieza en el creer, llave del más cerrado pecho. Házese con grande sutileza la tentativa doble de la voluntad y del juizio. Un desprecio sagaz de la misteriosa palabra del otro da caça a los secretos más profundos, y valos con suavidad vocadeando hasta traerlos a la lengua y a que den en las redes

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A precise legal term—signifying ‘refutation, contradiction, impugnment’—the latter also evinces rhetoric’s ‘agonistic’ bent in its Latin root (‘pugna’, ‘battle’).132 The motto presents gainsaying qua (technical) skill—as an art (“saber”). Swiftly, the ensuing sentence adds: and an artifice (“treta”; then, “sutileza”, “sagaz”, “redes”, “artificioso engaño”, “afectada”, “sutil”, “treta”). Either way, it is learnable, teachable—as implied in the respective example toward the end (“curiosidad”, “saber”, “aprender”, “discípulo”, “maestro”, “enseñança”).133 The contradictive craft’s affinity to (alternate) forms of violence seems unmistakable in those (figurative) references to venery (“da caça”), ensnaring (“empeñar”, “redes”, “se empeña”), to the instrument of torture (“torcedor”). When compared to the more defensive aphorism 135, the present one (213) clearly takes an oppositive stance. Accordingly, it counsels contradicting subtly, artfully—always with a view to prevailing over a given alter: the respective technique is a means to the end of knowing one’s enemy, enabling one to forestall his or her plans (“el ageno sentir”). In order to be perfected, it must be practiced from the cradle (“impugnation” conducing to “instruction” with a view to proficiency).134 In cultural settings, the contingencies most frequently encountered are precisely others (see the onset of chapter 4; 4.2, 4.4, 6.5, 13.5).

|| del artificioso engaño. La detención en el atento haze arrojarse a la del otro en el recato y descubre el ageno sentir, que de otro modo era el coraçón inescrutable. Una duda afectada es la más sutil ganzúa de la curiosidad para saber quanto quisiere. Y aun para el aprender es treta del discípulo contradezir al maestro, que se empeña con más conato en la declaración y fundamento de la verdad; de suerte que la impugnación moderada da ocasión a la enseñança cumplida” (Oráculo 219, §213); “atento” correlates paronomastico-semantically with “tentar”, “tentativa”; “haze arrojarse” will imply ‘fall headlong’; “cumplida” also ‘fulfilled’. As to this aphorism, see Küpper (“Jesuitismus” 425–426); Mayfield (Artful 254). Schopenhauer renders its motto as “Z u w i d e r s p r e c h e n v e r s t e h n”; “sentir” as “Gesinnung” (approx. ‘mindedness’); “impugnación” as “Bestreitung” (“Hand-Orakel” 224–225, §213; with Gracián Handorakel 121–122, §213). Cf. Robbins’ version (Pocket 80–81, §213). As to the polysemous nature of the verb ‘empeñar(se)’, the ensuing paraphrase might be consulted to bring out further latencies in the antithetical sentence after the motto: ‘It is a grand ruse of (the art of) tempting, not for insisting or entering (the fray) or encumbering or involving oneself or placing oneself under any obligation—but (“sino”) for obliging or coercing (the other), for prevailing over (an other), for imposing (something)’. Cf. the DRAE (s.v. “empeñar”). 132 See the DRAE (s.v. “impugnación”); Merriam-Webster (s.v. “impugnation”); affine terms in Quintilian (e.g. at Inst. Orat. 1–2. 390, 2.17.29; 408, 2.21.8; spec. “derecta fronte pugnandum est”, Inst. Orat. 3–5. 472, 5.13.11; plus Inst. Orat. 6–8. 126, 6.4.4; 130, 6.4.15; 132, 6.4.21). 133 Cf. spec. Küpper: “jeder erfolgreiche Schüler [‘hat’] seinem Lehrer oftmals widersprochen” (“Tragödiensatz” 6). A wise Jesuit may say: “no ai que añadir comento” (Oráculo 237, §251). 134 See Montaigne: “Les contradictions donc, des jugements ne m’offensent, ni m’altèrent, elles m’éveillent seulement et m’exercent. […] Quand on me contrarie, on éveille mon

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The act of gainsaying is presented as an operative art form toward various ends: as a tentative ruse; craftful substitute for coercion; an investigative device (as in rhetorical heúresis); a policy for inviting further contradiction (inter alia). Consistent with Gracián’s overall poetics of (conceptual) balance, the (more) aggressively alter-related angle will tend to be lodged in the (greater) vicinity of—or between—instances with a self-defensive bent. Neutralizing the very tools outlined for 213, aphorism 279 tenders the protective countermoves: No gainsaying a contradiction [‘No dezir al contradezir’, meaning: ‘Do not’]. It is needful to differentiate [‘diferenciar’] when [sc. if] it proceeds from astuteness [‘astucia’] or vulgarity. Not always is it pertinacity, but sometimes an artifice [‘artificio’, ‘ruse’]. Attention, then, so as to neither embrangle oneself [‘empeñarse’] in the former nor precipitate [‘despeñarse’] into the latter. No caution [‘cuidado’] is more efficaciously exercised than with regard to spies [‘espías’], and against [‘contra’] the picklock of the minds [‘la ganzúa de los ánimos’] there is no craftier countermove [‘contratreta’] than leaving the key of wariness [‘la llave del recato’] inside [sc. the lock]. (Oráculo 251, §279; trans. dsm)135

Via a paronomastic polyptoton—structures characteristic for Gracián’s écriture— this motto is performative of itself: “No dezir al contradezir” (Oráculo 251, §279). The attempt at entrapment, and the countervailment eluding or defusing it, are oppositively parallel: “astucia”, “artificio”, “empeñarse”, “espías”, “ganzúa” versus “diferenciar”, “Atención”, “cuidado”, “contra”, “contratreta”, “recato”. Above all, respect for settings and surroundings is counseled once again; here specifically as to the persons involved, and their contingent dispositions. It takes an artful rhetorician to know (hence potentially counteract) one.136 || attention, non pas mas colère: je m’avance vers celui qui me contredit, qui m’instruit” (Essais III. 204–205, III.viii; Essays 705, III.8). Cf. Mack thereto (64). 135 “No dezir al contradezir. Es menester diferenciar quándo procede de astucia o vulgaridad. No siempre es porfía, que tal vez es artificio. Atención, pues, a no empeñarse en la una ni despeñarse en la otra. No ai cuidado más logrado que en espías, y contra la ganzúa de los ánimos no ai mejor contratreta que el dexar por dentro la llave del recato” (Oráculo 251, §279); “porfía” might imply ‘bad faith’ (see the DRAE). Schopenhauer gives the motto as “D e m W i d e r s p r e c h e r n i c h t w i d e r s p r e c h e n” (“Hand-Orakel” 251–252, §279; here 251; plus Gracián Handorakel 157, §279). Cf. Robbins’ rendition (Pocket 105, §279). 136 With Hübscher (XIII), Radaelli logs this performative instance of scripta manent: “Die im 202. Aphorismus vertretene Präferenz der Taten vor den Worten […] weckt […] Schopenhauers Widerspruch. Zu Gracián’s Satz ‘La eminencia en los hechos dura, en los dichos passa’ notiert er: ‘vale el contrario’” (136; with Gracián Oráculo 212–213, §202; 213n. for ‘dure’; Schopenhauer Randschriften 494, who has ‘dure’). Needless to say, the former had prepared and insinuated this reading by the alliteration of “dura” and “dichos”; since “eminencia” and “hechos” are similarly paralleled phonologically (/e/), one could let the “passa” fall into a praeteritio at the end—yielding: ‘la eminencia en los hechos dura en los dichos’.

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All things considered, the aphorisms advocate contradiction as a verbal (or tacit) antidote, an asset or agent of interpersonal warfare, an (auto-)pedagogic technique—among other uses. Reading the aforecited instances alongside one another, the poetically functional employment of argument in utramque partem may seem manifest at the discursive or metalevel. A (deliberatively) virtual taking of diverse perspectives—some or most of which will be at variance with each other—occasions a distribution within, or across, several aphorisms; and precisely in a collection that, not incidentally, is co-titled an Art of Prudence.137 Unmindful of circumstances, a decontextualized, dialectico-logical angle could feel inclined to find fault with Gracián’s writings for being blunderingly inconsistent, blatantly self-contradictory.138 Such and similar value judgments— also with (dis)regard for likeminded œuvres—will arguably be due to a holistic neglect of the rhetorical tradition (Ancient the same as Early Modern). Immunized by Idealistic dogmatism, certain mentalities remain innocent of the art’s inducing—being continually conducive to—a poetics of argument in utramque partem; of its employing a “via diversa” (Sloane Contrary 8) to, in view of, facing a world of contingencies (hence conflicting thoughts, facts, slants).139 The merely logical principle of (non-)contradiction does not always, or even usually, obtain in human affairs (see 3.7, 4.2, herein). The latter are dominated by various sorts of else- and chancefulness—diversities, assumptions, affects, circumstances, temporality—which no type of Platonizing (not to mention its

|| 137 As to dialogic genera, Sloane notes: “the perspectives are multiplex, the pro as well as the contra distributed across several speakers: multiplex ratio disputandi” (Contrary 90). See Cicero on Socrates’ “many-sided method of discussion [‘multiplex ratio disputandi’]” (Tusc. Disp. 434–435, V.iv.11; plus “contra dicerem”, 10, I.iv.8). Cf. Sloane (Contrary 126); Bouwsma (391). 138 On similar verdicts in causa Maclavelli, see Mayfield (Artful 78; 79n.; 116). “Considering the limitations of logic” (Contrary 209; with 234), Sloane writes: “speakers and audiences”— “specific circumstances or context”—are “the very things which make rhetoric differ from logic” (Contrary 212; generally: “Education” 164; 168; 169n.; 171; 173). See subchs. 3.7, 4.2. 139 He expounds: “rhetoric matched […] diversity […] with a via diversa protocol of its own” (Contrary 11; cf. 46, 67, 71, 77, 135, 137–139, passim); i.e. not only “by generating arguments with one eye on the opposition”, but “to go even farther in […] via diversa fashion, by actually developing ideas on both sides of the question” (Contrary 67)—meaning, any. With a view to an alter, the rhetorical purpose is typically an (apparently noncoercive) enforcement of one’s own position, by each and every feckful tool at hand (sober or not). The methods (‘paths’) used tend to differ—even be dissonant—so as to accommodate changing circumstances (many of which will likely be at variance with one another). Logically speaking—stringent argument being the principle—a rhetorical modus operandi will all but inevitably seem to lack consistency (this nuance is indebted to Küpper’s comments on the ms. of the ch. at hand; Oct 23, 2017).

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Modern crypto-variants) has ever been willing (nor able) to take seriously (let alone come to terms with); that is, where acknowledging them all.140 While assorted idealisms choose to suppress or ignore the phenomenon, rhetoric reckons, and (as much or far as possible) copes with—even exploits— contingency. Things may be otherwise(d)—including views and standpoints. Being agonal—a way and war with words (by virtue thereof)—the craft naturally conveys a decided capacity for effectually gainsaying just anything. Having emerged under variform conditions, the respective tools are polytropic to begin with; hence may be employed in diverse ways: heuristically (virtually, auto-deliberatively); catalytically (inducing further instances, sustaining the conflict); anticipatorily (with a view to a preemptive foray); dispositively (as a structuring device); tacitly, by implication and inversion (inter alia). Tentatively describing calculated techniques of gainsaying—as well as the resulting dynamics of contradiction—may well conduce to a rhetorical poetics of otherwiseness. As with all things contingent, the task might be delegated.

|| 140 Cf. Rieger: “For Aristotle[,] the principle of contradiction is the first, evident, unprovable principle of science, on which all other principles and axioms depend” (1143; trans. dsm)—the central term (as to indemonstrability) being decisive. See subch. 3.3; generally, 3.7, 4.2, herein.

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8.6 With Respect to Stealing the Thunder Et bonus praeceptor non minus laudare discipulum debet si quid pro diversa quam si quid pro sua parte acriter excogitavit. —Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 490, 5.13.44)141

In the second act and scene of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, a most eloquent novice aims to effect a pardon for her culpable brother—not indeed by denying his guilt; but by disputing the deputy judge’s veritable severity: O it is excellent To have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. […] Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne’er be quiet, For every pelting officer Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. (MM [Lever] 45, II.ii.108–114; cf. MM [Eccles] 88–89, TLN 863–871)

What Isabella does not spell out (mainly due to her performing it): there are always also Promethean options (not to mention the Odyssean). Perchance, some things are already otherwise; but no one says so (yet).

|| 141 “A good teacher ought in fact to praise a pupil just as much for having a smart idea for the opposite side as for having one for his own” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 491, 5.13.44). This is linked to argument on the other partes: “In the schools […] we are quite right both to narrate the facts and to answer Objections [‘contradictionibus’], so as to get the maximum practice at the same time both in speaking first and in speaking second [‘in utrumque locum, id est primum et secundum’]” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 494–495, 5.13.50). Guthrie stresses: “It was part of rhetorical instruction to teach the pupil to argue with equal success on both sides of a question” (The Sophists 50–51). See Sloane (“Education” 171, as to Erasmus; 174). For Early Modern educative practice, Altman highlights the effects: “what happens to a mind conditioned to argue in utramque partem—on both sides of the question—as Renaissance students were trained to do? […] one result must be a great complexity of vision, capable of making every man […] a devil’s advocate” (3); “the practice of examining both sides of a question […] had a profound effect upon the developing young writer” (53; cf. 50; briefly, Schoeck 282). Cicero stresses that he himself writes “a continuous discourse both for and against [‘in utramque partem perpetua (…) oratio’], to enable each student to accept for himself the view that seems to him most probable [‘quod cuique maxime probabile videretur’]” (“De fato” 192–193, I.1). Haug accentuates the liberty involved: “Stößt man beim Studium der Autoritäten auf Widersprüche, dann trägt gerade dies zur Freiheit bei. Man gewinnt Distanz, indem man sich das Recht nimmt zu wählen, […] zu zweifeln” (“‘Lösung’” 288). See the onset of ch. 5, herein.

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Instead of outright opposing the apparently faceless and unyielding force of law, she diverts its focus (to herself), converts its rigor (into supple language), and inverts its influence (against itself). Rather than negating or confuting the charge, she positively confuses the judge by stealing his thunder.142 Personalizing, emotionalizing the situation (in terms of movere, with a view to Angelo), Isabella chooses the battleground and armaments most to her (and least to his) advantage—transmuting factual coercion into its indirect variant, the svelte suaveness of her persuading. Within the play, it works—too well.143 Regarding refutation, rhetoric is the art of effectually reverberating the force of an adversary’s beratement. Orators do thunder; while the most eloquent will also save energy, by inverting the strength and bent of another party’s ploys or propositions—confuting, contradicting their adversary, craftfully and withal.144

|| 142 At one point, Angelo exclaims (exasperatedly): “Why do you put these sayings upon me?” (MM [Lever] 47, II.ii.134; MM [Eccles] 92, TLN 891). Paronomastically, Schopenhauer parallels “sich konfundiren, sich refutiren lassen” (“letting oneself be confounded, [letting] oneself be refuted”, “Eristische” 670, Dial.B1[2]; trans. dsm). As to stealing someone’s thunder, see Teuber on Montaigne’s Apologie—“die Verteidigungsstrategie [‘hat’] eine auffällige Besonderheit: Sie widerlegt gar nicht erst die Meinung von Sebonds Gegnern, sondern sie gibt ihnen grundsätzlich Recht” (120; with “den Wind aus den Segeln zu nehmen”, 121; e.g. at Montaigne Essais II. 162, II.xii; Essays 321, II.12). On the latter, see Kablitz (“‘Skeptizismus’” 511–512; 518– 520; 521n.; 524; 526; spec. 529; 531–532; 538). Generally, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 152n.). 143 As incapsulated in the deputy’s distinctive confession that his corporeal desire has been aroused by Isabella’s moving eloquence: “She speaks, and ’tis such sense / That my sense breeds with it” (MM [Lever] 47, II.ii.142–143; MM [Eccles] 92–93, TLN 900–901). 144 One of the most virtuoso cases in the history of twentieth century scholarship may well be Gilman’s tersely magnanimous refunctionalization of a critic’s ‘hostility’ (Spain 367n.; referring to Spitzer: passim; spec. via 9n.).

9 Make Life Art—An Immoral Imperative (Remarks on Nietzsche, Pater, Wilde, Benn, Blumenberg) L’homme n’est rien, l’œuvre tout! —Flaubert (664, §246)1 draw form out of chaos. —Alford (Poetic Attention 9)2

The above directive implies that ‘life’ (as such) is not already ‘art’. For ‘make’ seems to entail ‘else’—hence otherwiseness qua condition of possibility.3 At once, forms of the latter (meaning, téchnai) aim at countering the (probably inevitable) eventualities of the former: human “art” is among the fundamental “attempts at coping with contingency” (Marquard “Apologie” 130; trans. dsm).4

|| 1 In a letter to George Sand of 1875; approx. ‘the (hu)man (being) is naught, the work all’. Cf. H. Mann’s citation thereof, with this nuance: “Die Werke folgen als Ergebnis des Lebens” (113, §63). See Küpper on an ‘enigmatic Flaubertian dictum’ (“Dekadenz [1997]” 208; structurally, 214n., 218); and Amslinger’s comments on affine spirits (183–184; plus 181–182). With typical irreverence, Wilde declares: “The only artists I have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists. Good artists give everything to their art, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in themselves. A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realize” (“DG [1890]” 218, III; with “DG [1891]” 50, IV). Cf. subch. 9.2. 2 She stresses: “The problem of form is, at root, the problem of contingency. Contingency is the abyss out of which the form of the poem is composed” (Poetic Attention 19). Seeing as (raw) matter marks its grounds, the metaphoricity will be apt. Cf. Mayfield (Artful 445–446; 449; 451). 3 The present reading’s drift is not teleological (here, throughout). In general, such would also be conceivable, spec. from an Aristotelianizing angle (mutatis mutandis). By viewing ‘art’ as life’s ‘natural’ télos, the ‘making’ involved could be seen as aiding nature in cases where it did not reach its aim unassisted (on its own): “the arts [‘τέχνη’] either, on the basis of Nature, carry things further than Nature [‘φύσις’] can, or they imitate [‘μιμεῖται’] Nature” (Phys. 1–4. 172–173, 199a, II.viii; with Pol. 632–633, 1337a, VII.xv.11; and Blumenberg “Nachahmung [2001]” 9, 9n.). See also Wilde’s flippant remarks, as cited in subch. 9.4. Even so, the Stagirite would (in all likelihood) consider téchne to be only a means, rather than an end (let alone in itself); within the economy of entelécheia, attaining to (a particular) form is the purpose of matter. 4 Plus context: “wie die Menschen mit dem Zufälligen leben können und umgehen. […] zum Umgang mit dem Beliebigkeitszufälligen [‘gehört’] die Kunst: die Beliebigkeitsersparung durch Form; und sicher gehört zum Umgang mit dem Schicksalszufälligen die Religion: die Verwandlung von Grenzsituationen in Routinen. Beide – Kunst und Religion – sind Kontingenzbewältigungsversuche” (Marquard “Apologie” 130). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-009

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Provisionally, potentials for qualitative alteration—notably intensification— are considered in the present chapter (9). The complementary aspect—that of ‘loosening’ or ‘unmaking’ life (altogether)—is treated in the next (10).5

9.1 Brevity sola humana arte[.] —Nicholas of Cusa (“de mente” 492, II)6 Mon métier et mon art, c’est vivre. —Montaigne (Essais II. 77, II.vi)7

Conventionally and prima facie, some matters may seem beyond a capacity for elseness. With respect to living organisms, their passing away is usually not deemed contingent, say. Certain stories suggesting exceptions notwithstanding, the Classic(al) description of ‘man’ as ‘a mortal animal’ (and ‘rational’ as the case may be) has shown a tendency of holding good, for the most part.8 While humans are taken to be temporal beings constitutively, there are still options at their discretion—especially as concerns quality. Among the ways for dealing with transience, the most time-honored will likely be ‘to philosophize’— as Socrates (endorsed by Cicero, iterated by Montaigne) is thought to have said.9 Since all arrive at the end with utmost certainty, there can be no exclusivity of approach. Paths are facultative—with art inter alia. Hence one might make life the same—notably if it is (tacitly) taken to be (utterly) contingent to begin with.10 As a matter of course, poetic necessitating may also be had by proxy:

|| 5 Contingency is a capacity for being otherwise (ch. 9), or not at all (resp. no longer; ch. 10). 6 See Blumenberg (Legitimität 621). For further references thereto, cf. ch. 11 (spec. 11.1), herein. 7 “My trade and my art is living” (Essays 274, II.6). 8 See e.g. Sextus Empiricus (who cites the ensuing, in order to take it apart): “Others [sc. ‘Stoics and Peripatetics’] used to assert that ‘Man is a rational mortal animal [‘ζῶον λογικὸν θνητόν’], receptive of intelligence [‘νοῦ’] and science [‘ἐπιστήμης’]” (Pyrrhonism 168–169, II.26; with 286–287, II.211). Cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 234n.). Wilde has Lord Henry declare: “I wonder who it was defined man as a rational animal. It was the most premature definition ever given. Man is many things, but he is not rational. I am glad he is not, after all” (“DG [1890]” 207, II; “DG [1891]” 27, II; contrast Gillespie’s ill-advised gloss at 27n.). 9 See Montaigne’s ch. “Que Philosopher, c’est apprendre à mourir” (Essais I. 221, I.xx; with 610n.–615n.); referring to Cicero, citing Socrates: “Tota […] philosophorum vita […] commentatio mortis est” (Tusc. Disp. 86; plus 87n.). Cf. Seneca: “brevis aevi et huius incerti; quidquid facies, respice ad mortem” (Ep. 93–124. 318, CXIV.27). Generally, see ch. 10 (spec. 10.2.1), herein. 10 Despite—or rather, precisely due to—his official disinclination to contingency, the

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Life has no purpose, it is everywhere undone by arbitrariness: I do this, but it matters not a jot if I do the opposite. But in the playhouse, every action good or bad has its consequence[.] (Jeffreys 32, I.v)

In manmade environments, chaos or chance may be changed into form and order. Whereas this basic function tends to remain stable, not all options for doing so are equally effectual—but contingent upon the given circumstances. As far as plausibility is concerned, the artful option has the advantage of an undeniable fundamentum in re. Every (rather reasonable) human is (potentially) conscious of being a “dying animal” (Yeats 80, v.22)—while also a member of a characteristically crafty species generally.11 A connection between evanescence and poíesis may provisionally suggest itself.12 Whereas the overt aim appears to be an amelioration of life under certain (unalterable) conditions, it is mainly the mode and manner of said interplay || philosophical archetype for ‘making life art’ will be Plato: “we ourselves, to the best of our ability [‘κατὰ δύναμιν’], are the authors of a tragedy [‘τραγῳδίας αὐτοὶ ποιηταὶ’] at once superlatively fair and good; at least, all our polity is framed as a representation [‘μίμησις’] of the fairest and best life [‘τοῦ καλλίστου καὶ ἀρίστου βίου’], which is in reality, as we assert, the truest tragedy [‘τραγῳδίαν τὴν ἀληθεστάτην’]” (Laws VII–XII. 98–99, 817B, VII; see the aspect of competition, outperformance at 817B–D). Cf. Trimpi (“Ancient” 57; Muses 60–61); Kablitz: “poesia […] ist […] auf Konkurrenz, auf den Wettstreit um den Vorrang angelegt” (“Alterität.” 237). Whereas Plato stresses the collective, Montaigne focuses on the particular: “Mon métier et mon art, c’est vivre” (Essais II. 77, II.vi; with Essays 274, II.6). “I have no more made my book than my book has made me [‘Je n’ai pas plus fait mon livre que mon livre m’a fait’]—a book consubstantial with its author [‘Livre consubstantiel à son auteur’], concerned with my own self [‘D’une occupation propre’], an integral part of my life [‘Membre de ma vie’]” (Essays 504, II.18; Essais II. 485, II.xviii). On an “Einheit […] zwischen Werk und Autor” in this respect, cf. Auerbach (Mimesis [1982]. 291, with 292; Mimesis [2003]. 306). Likewise Nietzsche: “Das Product des Philosophen ist sein L e b e n (zuerst, vor seinen W e r k e n ). Das ist sein Kunstwerk. Jedes Kunstwerk ist einmal dem Künstler, sodann den andern Menschen zugekehrt” (KSA 7. 712, 29[205]). “Das eigenthümlichste Product eines Philosophen ist sein Leben, es ist sein Kunstwerk” (KSA 7. 804, 34[37]). 11 On man’s potential awareness of mortality, see Blumenberg’s formulation: “wenn sich das Leben selbst dessen bewußt wird, was ihm bleibt” (Lebenszeit 71n.; the context in a n. below). He stresses: “Die Vernunft ist ein Inbegriff präsumtiver, antizipatorischer, auch provisorischer Leistungen, deren anthropologischer Grenzwert es ist, daß wir das Bewußtsein haben können, sterben zu müssen, und es immer mit ihm zu tun haben” (Beschreibung 559; plus 561). Cf. Marquard: “Menschen […] sind jene Lebewesen auf Zeit, die wissen, daß sie Lebewesen nur auf Zeit sind” (“Finalisierung” 469). Theoretically, at least. 12 In a sense, one is facing an animal faber: making art renders it human—this is its ‘tò tí en einai’ (for said formula, cf. Aristotle “de anima” 70, 412b, II.i.; and ch. 4, herein). Blumenberg perceives “ein ‘werkzeugschaffendes’ Wesen. Er wird durch das, was er macht, immer präziser und stringenter das, was er ist” (Beschreibung 588). Cf. Zambon (Nachleuchten 76).

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between brevity and human art as will be at issue. Tentatively, attaining to a perceived improvement could be conceived with a view to extension (counting acceleration) or intensity: quantitative expansion or qualitative concentration.13 As to the former, a well-known sententia may prove heuristically useful: ‘ars longa, vita brevis’.14 In terms of form, this diverb correlates life and art, while

|| 13 In Western ethics, the latter appears to have been prioritized, or valued more highly—at least officially. Certain venerable practices of ‘inwardness’ would seem to be the (high) cultural prototypes of what tends to be referred to as ‘quality time’, in the present: theoría, the vita contemplativa; (philosophical) dialogs in private circles (Plato’s Sympósion), intimate settings (Phaidros); epistolary interchange with friends (Cicero, Seneca); introspection and reflection (Marcus Aurelius, Montaigne); retreats of silent reflection (Augustine’s Soliloquia, Petrarca’s Secretum); metaphysical and monastic meditation (incl. prayers to the resp. deity); immersive reading, scholarly research, and the like. Said tradition—and its techniques—may set a (general, tacit) background for the present inquiry. While its elucidation must be delegated at this point, see Wilde’s partial refunctionalization: Dorian “always had an extraordinary faculty of becoming absolutely absorbed for the moment in whatever he took up” (“DG [1890]” 268, IX; with “DG [1891]” 115, XI). Cf. also subchs. 10.3.2 and 10.3.3, herein. 14 See Seneca: “‘vitam brevem esse, longam artem’” (“de brevitate” 286, X.1–2). Blumenberg cites Goethe’s Mephistopheles—“Doch nur vor Einem ist mir bang: Die Zeit ist kurz, die Kunst ist lang. Das ist zwar älteste Spruchweisheit, von Seneca schon den Aphorismen des Hippokrates entnommen, doch im Kontext einer Bänglichkeit sogar des Teufels die ironische Kurzformel dafür, daß Faust sich im Maße des zunehmenden Mißverhältnisses von Wunschgröße und Lebensfrist auch dem Übermaß der Übeltat nähern muß” (Lebenszeit 72). Cf. Marquard (Aesthetica 86). In Goethe (Faust 54, I.1786–1787), the variant recurrence of the aforecited “bang”—in “Folg nur dem alten Spruch und meiner Muhme, der Schlange, / Dir wird gewiß einmal bei deiner Gottähnlichkeit bange!” (Faust 61, I.2049–2050, with I.1786)—may well insinuate the last book of Scripture: “εἰδὼς ὅτι ὀλίγον καιρὸν ἔχει” (Ἀποκ 12:12; SBLGNT). Cf. Blumenberg (Schiffbruch 85–86; Lebenszeit 71, 71n.; Unbegrifflichkeit 104–105). He logs that Jean Paul correlates the devil and man, in his variation on “Der Teufel weiß, daß er wenig Zeit hat” (Lebenszeit 71): “Die ästhetische Verführung zur Lebensintensität bedarf des Versuchers nicht; sie setzt das von der Kürze seines Spielraums betroffene, eben darum auch zur Daseinsfreude stimulierte Subjekt ohne Erschrecken dem Gegenspieler des Menschen in der Apokalypse gleich. Es bedarf der Untergänge nicht, wenn sich das Leben selbst dessen bewußt wird, was ihm bleibt” (Lebenszeit 71n.). Generally as to the brevity of (human) life, see Homer: “ἄνθρωποι δὲ μινυνθάδιοι τελέθουσιν”—“Men are short-lived” (Odyssey 13–24. 258–259, 19.328). Spec. Protagoras: “καὶ βραχὺς ὢν ὁ βίος τοῦ ἀνθρώπου” (in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 265, 80B4). See Antiphon the Sophist (Vorsokratiker II. 339, 87B9; 361, 87B53a; 367, 87B77). Seneca also has: “Nulla vita est non brevis” (Ep. 66–92. 180, LXXVII.20). Marcus Aurelius: “βραχὺς ὁ βίος” (82, IV.26; cf. 144, VI.30; 326, XII.7); plus variants: “ἀκαριαῖος ὁ ἀνθρώπειος βίος”, “man’s life is momentary” (308–309, XI.18.6). “Of the life of man the duration is but a point, its substance streaming away” (41, II.17; see Benn Essays 395). Erasmus: ‘vita mortalium brevis’ (“Adagia” 586, III.10.3, indicating Homer, as cited above). References to brevity may be functionalized as a rhetorical recourse—e.g. in Celestina: “tan breve deleyte” (Rojas C [Severin]

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suggesting a partial nexus with brevity—further accentuated by the parallel presence of the contrary. As regards the message, there will be no need to read said maxim as one of resignation only. For changing the syntactical vector— hence the re- or perceived accent—tends to be possible in equally weighted cases. By reversing the order—stressing téchne (poíesis), duration (extension)— the tone will markedly differ from an arrangement ending on brevity.15 For the time being, intensity can likewise (or rather, inversely) compensate for natural limitedness, finality. While boundaries might (be) shift(ed)—by natural selection, advances in medical technology, or biogenetic engineering (say)—quantitative expansion does have a physical limit in an(y) organism’s ultimately inescapable demise (discounting myths and wishful thinking, for the moment).16 By contrast, the possibilities of qualitative intensification—based on particular (including noetic) experience(s)—may seem virtually unbounded.17

|| 284, 286, XIV). “O mísera suavidad desta brevíssima vida […][.] O breve deleyte mundano” (C [Severin] 288, XIV; with C Comentada 404, 177r, XIV.15; 406, 177v–178r, XIV.18). Likewise in Machiavelli: “Perché la vita è brieve” (M [Bonino] 3, Canzone); and spec. when in an argumentative impasse: “e la brevità della vita” (Principe 167, XXV). A similar (exc)use in Montaigne: “Il n’est plus temps de devenir autre” (Essais III. 325, X; with Essays 772, III.10). “Somme me voici après à achever cet homme, non à en refaire un autre” (Essais III. 326, X; see Essays 773, III.10). Cf. Blumenberg thereto: “er habe nicht mehr die Zeit, ein anderer zu werden” (Lebenszeit 151). Gracián stresses: “Ai mucho que saber y es poco el vivir, y no se vive si no se sabe” (Oráculo 110, §15; 110n.; with Radaelli 133, 133n.). Generally, plus further references, cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 270–271, 270n.–271n.; 273–274, 273n.–274n.). 15 In Goethe, the dictum is repeated, but invertedly (as well as ventriloquistically reallocated): “Ach Gott! die Kunst ist lang, / Und kurz ist unser Leben” (put in Wagner’s mouth, Faust 22, I.558–559). “Die Zeit ist kurz, die Kunst ist lang” (uttered by Mephistopheles, sans mention of the deity, Faust 54, I.1787). The author is grateful to Eva Neu, noting this varied iteration during a seminar entitled ‘Poetics of Brevity’ (conducted by the author in 2016/17 at FU Berlin). As a matter of course, the dictum’s Hippocratic source context is expressly medical: “LIFE is short [‘Ὁ βίος βραχύς’], the Art long [‘ἡ δὲ τέχνη μακρή’], opportunity [‘καιρὸς’] fleeting, experiment [‘πεῖρα’] treacherous, judgment [‘κρίσις’] difficult” (98–99, I.i). Yet already in Antiquity (see spec. Seneca “de brevitate” passim; here: 286, X.1–2), the (initial) sententia (cited) has shown a tendency of taking on a life of its own; wherefore the semantic latitudes of ‘ars’ can indeed comprise ‘poesis’ (as and where applicable). Cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 274, 274n.). 16 While it may have qualitative side effects (incidentally, in passing), an increase of speed pertains mainly to quantity; for “mors ultima linea rerum est” (“Epistles” 356, I.xvi.79). 17 Perchance, the unbridgeable disequilibrium between Proust’s endlessly protracted quest (“I […] must long postpone”, Lost Time. I. 64, I.i.i; with À la recherche I. 47) and the singularly intense stimulus of the “madeleine” (Lost Time. I. 60–64, here: 63, I.i.i; À la recherche I. 44–47) could offer a structural shorthand for the variance between quantity and quality: the former can only go so far; the latter’s depth might be experienced as unfathomable—or abysmal, as the case may be. See Proust’s insinuations: “an abyss of uncertainty [‘Grave incertitude’]”;

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To some extent, said and such concentration may be crafted; especially in terms of man’s distinctive characteristic, the lógos.18 Speaking, writing, reading (like one’s living) time being downright limited, an essay that is to the point will aptly be brief of necessity—meaning, in accord with its content.19 By aligning the unavoidable with the human situation, constraints could be rendered virtues.

|| “Seek? More than that: create [‘Chercher? pas seulement: créer’]”; “this unremembered state […] brought with it no logical proof [‘n’apportait aucune preuve logique’], but the indisputable evidence, of its felicity”; “to bring back […] the fleeting sensation […] I shut out every […] extraneous idea, I stop my ears and screen my attention” (Lost Time. I. 61, I.i.i; À la recherche I. 45). The immediate effect of the confection is precisely described as overriding human transience: “An exquisite pleasure […] invaded my senses […] the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, […] its brevity illusory [‘sa brièveté illusoire’] […]. I […] ceased now to feel […] contingent, mortal [‘J’avais cessé de me sentir […] contingent, mortel’]” (Lost Time. I. 60, I.i.i; À la recherche I. 44). Said accent on a previous otherwiseness no longer obtaining is linked to the quasi ‘illogical’ nature of the liberum arbitrium: “I declined [sc. the tea and pastry] at first, and then, for no particular reason [‘je ne sais pourquoi’], changed my mind” (Lost Time. I. 60, I.i.i; À la recherche I. 44). As regards the source situation, the narrator thus accentuates contingency, which an apparently free (or whimful) choice renders necessary in hindsight. Yet the remembering itself is—taken to (have) be(en)—altogether fortuitous: “There is a large element of chance in these matters [‘Il y a beaucoup de hasard en tout ceci’], and a second chance occurrence, that of our own death [‘et un second hasard, celui de notre mort’], often prevents us from awaiting for any length of time the favours of the first. […] so it is with our own past. It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile [‘tous les efforts de notre intelligence sont inutiles’]. The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that […] will give us) of which we have no inkling. And it depends on chance [‘il dépend du hasard’] whether or not we come upon this object before we ourselves must die” (Lost Time. I. 59–60, I.i.i; À la recherche I. 43–44). Generally, see Barthes (on Proust): “he made his life itself a work of which his own book was the model” (51; cf. 53). Likewise Rorty: “Proust [‘schreibt’] einen Roman über einen Mann […], der hofft, genau den Roman zu schreiben, den der Leser gerade liest […]. Durch Marcels Gelingen verleiht Proust der Idee, daß das Leben ein Kunstwerk sein kann – einer Idee die uns von Pater, Wilde und Nietzsche her vertraut ist – eine Substanz und Plausibilität, die sie auf andere Weise kaum erreicht hätte” (“Der Roman” 65). 18 See Aristotle: “λόγον δὲ μόνον ἄνθρωπος ἔχει τῶν ζῴων”; “man alone of the animals possesses speech” (Pol. 10–11, 1253a, I.i.10; with Mayfield “hypólepsis” 234, 234n.). It being a vital need, all lifeforms naturally communicate in some way: the ‘song’ of marine mammals (for instance) is no less semiotic than a bee’s ‘dance’. ‘Lógos’ is distinctive of the human variant to the extent of comprising theoría and (‘purely’) noetic concepts—meaning, a capacity for conceiving and conveying (temporal, spatial, causal) abstractions. As far as is assessable (at this point), other animals do not seem to partake thereof. 19 Certain latencies notwithstanding. Concerning the presence of the latter from a rhetoricomethodical perspective, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 22–24).

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Not infrequently, conditions dictate the diction. Yet there appears to be an occasional freedom for accommodating a given modus to the circumstances: life being brief—one may be, as well.20 Embracing the inevitable is among man’s possibilities. Desiring more or all, some might wish to go further and beyond. As rejoinders to the contingency (and -cies) of life, both ‘amor fati’ and ‘plus ultra’ have seemed effectual.21 Being concerned with the moral implications of an artful rendition of life, the present chapter will naturally incline to the latter.

|| 20 For another possible reading, see ch. 10. Bacon takes the (philosophical, scholarly) accent on the kathólou as a means for managing the worldly mass of details; and as an expedient method with a view to compensating for human evanescence: “it is the duty and virtue of all knowledge to abridge the infinity of individual experience […][;] and to remedy the complaint of vita brevis, ars longa; which is performed by uniting the notions and conceptions in sciences: for knowledges are as pyramids, whereof history is the basis” (Advancement 95, II). 21 See Nietzsche: “Amor fati” (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 521, IV.276). “Meine Formel für die Grösse am Menschen ist a m o r f a t i : dass man Nichts anders haben will, vorwärts nicht, rückwärts nicht, in alle Ewigkeit nicht. Das Nothwendige nicht bloss ertragen, noch weniger verhehlen — aller Idealismus ist Verlogenheit vor dem Nothwendigen —, sondern es l i e b e n …” (“Ecce [KSA 6]” 295, “Warum ich so klug bin”, §10); “man soll es nicht nur tragen, man soll es l i e b e n … A m o r f a t i” (“contra Wagner [KSA 6]” 436, “Epilog”, §1). See subch. 9.4, herein. Generally, Marquard (Abschied 78). On advancing ‘further beyond’: “sanza alcuno respetto, […] ho deliberato entrare per una via, la quale, non essendo suta ancora da alcuna trita”, etc. (Machiavelli “Discorsi” 56, I.Pref.); with subch. 8.5.1. See Gracián especially—“Desta suerte el Emperador Carlos Quinto, a las grandes vitorias de sus armas en el otro mundo, acomodó por desconveniencia el Non plus ʋltra de Hércules, y dixo: Plus ʋltra” (Arte de ingenio 317, XXXIII; cf. 317n.). “Con más artificio, no por acomodación y semejança, sino por oposición, fue el Plʋs Vltra del Emperador Carlos Quinto” (Arte de ingenio 406, XLVII). On “‘plus oultre’” qua motto of the latter, see Gumbrecht (272); Green (Western Trad. III. 3–4, 3n.; 7; with 27–52, spec. 27–28). Bacon’s sentence performatively exceeds itself in its sequence: “these times may justly bear in their word, not only plus ultra, in precedence of the ancient non ultra, and imitabile fulmen, in precedence of the ancient non imitabile fulmen, […] but likewise imitabile cœlum” (Advancement 79, II; see 61, 61n., 79n.; pictorially, Novum Organum 1.ii, I; 276.ix, II; cf. Jardine 226n.; with context, 224–226). Contrast Job 38:11. For diverse applications of this phrase, see Blumenberg (Lebenszeit 153–154; Lebensthemen 70; Legitimität 272; as well as variations thereon, Lesbarkeit 314; 370; “Nachahmung [2001]” 29; Beschreibung 38; Geistesgeschichte 30, 30n.–31n.). Plus Sommer: “Es geht indes noch weiter […]. Doch es geht noch weiter” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 85). Cf. “Die Gegenfrage lautet: Läßt sich, was möglich ist, überhaupt vermeiden?” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 483). Plausibly, Aristotle accentuates: “for men as a rule [‘ὡς γὰρ ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’], whenever they can [‘ἂν δύνωνται’], do [‘ποιοῦσιν’] those things which they long for [‘ὧν ὀρέγονται’]” (Rhet. 270–271, 1392b, II.xix.19). See also subchs. 4.4, 6.6.1.1, 11.1.2, 11.1.3; as well as ch. 13 (particularly its onset), herein.

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9.2 Intensity Foregoing a demonization of human wickedness, one sees it develop from th[is] simple disproportion[:] that a being with [a] limited lifespan has unlimited desires. It lives in a world, which does not seem to preset any boundaries to its possibilities, apart from th[is] one[:] that it must die. —Blumenberg (Lebenszeit 71–72; trans. dsm)22

There appears to be a connection between contingency, the human animal’s conative plus ultra, and its mortality. Matters could be otherwise, conceivably; hence pushing all boundaries seems a viable praxis—while natural (tempocorporal) limits will only escalate such striving.23

|| 22 “Verzichtet man darauf, menschliche Bosheit zu dämonisieren, sieht man sie aus dem schlichten Mißverhältnis entstehen, daß ein Wesen mit endlicher Lebenszeit unendliche Wünsche hat. Es lebt in einer Welt, die keine Grenzen des ihm Möglichen vorzuzeichnen scheint, ausgenommen die eine, daß es sterben muß”. In line therewith, Blumenberg discerns “Verlockungen und Verführungen bis zum wahnhaften Vogliamo tutto!” (plus “Wünsche nach intensiver Erfahrung”, Lesbarkeit no pag., fm, ‘Über dieses Buch’); and stresses: “Das Wir wollen alles! wird nie verstummen; es ist die Bedrohung der Humanität aus ihrem eigenen Weltverhältnis heraus, ihre anthropologische Antinomie” (Sorge 22). Cf. Gracián: “Querrían devorar en un día lo que apenas podrán digerir en toda la vida” (Oráculo 197, §174). 23 Being a mortal animal is the conditio sine qua non for qualitative experiences—“daß die Unvermeidlichkeit des Todes die Intensität des Lebens steigert” (Blumenberg Sorge 206; see Lesbarkeit 13, with respect to Rothacker; “Nachruf” 71). “Die endliche Dauer gewährt allein dem Leben die Chance der Intensität des Erlebens, auch des Schönen. Dauerte es ewig, würde jeder Augenblick im Hinblick auf den […] kommenden gleichgültig. Wozu heute ausschöpfen, was doch jederzeit wiederkommen mag? Das Leben darf nicht ewig dauern” (Vor allem 26; cf. Wetz Blumenberg 208). In facing the inevitable, human agency is decisive: “Es bedarf der Kraft, sie [sc. (die) ‘Zeit’] zu nutzen, und die Kraft steigert sich unter dem Druck der Enge ihres Spielraums” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 610). “Veränderung der Qualität der Zeit durch die Implikation ihrer endlichen Quantität[:] Die Enge der Zeit, ihre Knappheit, verändert die Art, wie ein Mensch sich Zeit nimmt, wie er Zeit zu gewinnen und sie sich wieder zu vertreiben sucht” (Beschreibung 612). As to the hand (or rather, mind) one may have therein, Blumenberg stresses a “Disposition über die Intensität der Wahrnehmung”: “Aufmerksamkeit ist geradezu eine Form von Freiheit. Sie ist die Fähigkeit der Verfügung über das Wahrnehmungsvermögen hinsichtlich seiner Intensität, seines gezielten Aufgebots an Energie” (Sachen 183; spec. with “Verfeinerung von Aufmerksamkeit”, 184). See subchs. 5.1.3, 5.2.2. Cf. “Kultur ist Intensität” (Beschreibung 723; plus context, 724; as to Kant “Anthropologie” 559, BA178–179, §60; cited below). Generally, see Seneca: “Saepe quod datur, exiguum est, quod sequitur ex eo, magnum” (Ep. 66–92. 228–229, LXXXI.14). With Gracián: “Recompénsase tal vez la brevedad de la duración con la intensión del favor” (Oráculo 124, §38). On ‘intensity’ in various respects, see Blumenberg (Vor allem 21; 34; “Prozeßintensität”, Unbegrifflichkeit 73; Sachen 183; 318; 323; “Intensität”, Goethe 144; 226; plus: “intensiven”, “intensive Wirkung […] Eindringtiefe”, 44;

Intensity | 481

Life being brief—in Pater’s lyrical prose, “[o]n this short day of frost and sun” (120)—one might make a point of intensifying it. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts’, ‘carpe diem’, ‘live the moment’—such and similar clichés are at large; and not without reason.24 More sophisticatedly, with Blumenberg: “subject to the brevity of its leeway, and stimulated to joie de vivre for precisely this reason”, a cultured human being will also be susceptible of “aesthetic seduction[s]” with a view to increasing the “intensity of living” (Lebenszeit 71n.; trans. dsm).25 Needless to say, there are pragmatic upshots, as well: “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it” (Lord Henry to Dorian, “DG [1890]” 199, II; see “DG [1891]” 19–20, II). “Only through perfecting an art will one either grow weary of it or become impatient with it” (Trimpi Muses 330n.)—the advantage being that one might never attain thereto as regards the vital téchne.26

|| “Intensivierung”, 119). Cf. these formulations: “seine ganze ästhetische Existenz beruhte auf der Intensität” (Lebensthemen 57; infinitized; in this spec. sense, one may well say “daß Ethik und Ästhetik eins sind”, Lebenswelt 88; contrast: Wittgenstein “Tractatus” 83, §6.421; cf. Wetz Blumenberg 220); “der Erweiterung der Erfahrung ihre Intensität vorzuziehen” (Blumenberg GKW I. 116; infinitized). See Seneca (Ep. 1–65. 328–329, XLIX); Montaigne (Essays 67, I.20). Küpper observes that the Borgesian yarn concerned with the conceivable effects of immortality would also be of particular pertinence, here (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; April 15, 2020). Cf. spec. “Death (or reference to death) makes men precious and pathetic; […] any act they perform may be their last; there is no face that is not on the verge of blurring and fading away like the faces in a dream. Everything in the world of mortals has the value of the irrecoverable and contingent [‘de lo azaroso’]” (Borges “The Immortal” 192, IV; “El inmortal” 235; with Küpper Schweigen 52n.–53n.; “Philology” 147n.). See Marchesini (passim; spec. section 1.6). Generally as to the above, cf. subch. 10.3.2, herein. Eternity—no matter its facture—would be a nightmare. 24 Other commonplaces might include: ‘make the most of now’ (resp. ‘hay while the sun shines’); ‘live every day like it’s your last’; ‘you only live once’; and so forth. Cf. Lord Henry’s (conative, imperative) in- or seducing of Dorian—along the lines of the tópos to ‘seize the day’: “Realize your youth while you have it. […] Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. […] A new hedonism” (“DG [1890]” 202, II; with “DG [1891]” 23, II). 25 As to a potential sublimation of man’s distinctive plus ultra, see Kant: “E i n e Art, sich zu vergnügen, ist zugleich K u l t u r : nämlich Vergrößerung der Fähigkeit, noch mehr Vergnügen dieser Art zu genießen; dergleichen das mit Wissenschaften und schönen Künsten ist” (“Anthropologie” 559, BA178–179, §60; cf. Blumenberg Beschreibung 724). Seeing as “der ästhetische Genuß […] beliebig teilbar ist, ohne sich dadurch zu mindern” (Unbegrifflichkeit 59), this points to vicariousness qua ethical way out of the narcissistic dilemma; see subch. 9.5. 26 Cf. Gracián: “el saber vivir es hoi el verdadero saber” (Oráculo 229, §232; with “no se vive si no se sabe”, 110, §15; plus 237, §249). Signaling “‘Lebenskunst’” as “elementare Fertigkeit, mit sich selbst umzugehen und hauszuhalten” (Arbeit 13), Blumenberg also highlights the term’s (latent) figurativeness: “Lebenskunstmetapher” (Jünger 52). By prefixation, he logs the needful: “Überlebenskunst” (Höhlen. 71; Rigorismus 12; see A. Meyer “Anmerkungen” 30n.). Cf. NiehuesPröbsting: “Philosophie wird zur Kunst des Überlebens” (Die antike Phil. 180; plus Einsicht 106;

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Quality prevails over mortality. “With this sense of the splendour of our experience and […] its awful brevity”, a lifetime may be enhanced by “gathering all we are into one desperate effort to see and touch”; in latently eroticized language, Pater concludes: “For our one chance is in expanding that interval, in getting as many pulsations as possible into the given time” (120).27 Rather than focusing on the limits of the latter, the accent could be placed on the remark’s onset; hence on the leeway left—the options facilitated—by contingency. It would seem that an intensified life will be an artful one.28 So Pater avers a love of art for art’s sake […]; for art comes to you professing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments’ sake. (121)29

The use of “comes” and “give” may well be taken to imply a certain patience on the part of the human being respectively affected by art’s effectuality.30 || 125; also 52, 165). With respect to simultaneously cultivating (one’s) humanity, Blumenberg stresses circuitousness as a sine qua non: “Die vermeintliche ‘Lebenskunst’ der kürzesten Wege ist in der Konsequenz ihrer Ausschlüsse Barbarei” (Sorge 137). Cf. subch. 9.4, herein. 27 The (present) point being that there will be no “time to make theories about the things we see and touch” (120). Pater’s immediate context is Rousseau (spec. his Confessions): “He asked himself how he might make as much as possible of the interval that remained” (120). Diachronically and in general, at least two notorious Ancient formulae seem to be implied (cf. spec. Pater’s use of the term “gather”). For the tópoi, see Horace: “carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero” (“Odes” 44, I.11.8); and the (ps.-)Ausonian “collige, virgo, rosas, dum flos novus et nova pubes” (280, v. 49). See these variations in Celestina: “gozar su noble juventud y florida moçedad” (Rojas C [Severin] 154, IV). “Goza tu moçedad, el buen día, la buena noche, el buen comer y bever”, as well as “mochachas” (C [Severin] 195, VII; cf. 244, X). For elaborations, see spec. Garcilaso: “coged de vuestra alegre primavera / el dulce fruto” (Selected 42, XXIII.9– 10). Emulatively, Góngora: “goza cuello, cabello, labio y frente” (24, §7, v.9). See Isidore’s polyhypólepsis: “Sunt hic plura sacra, sunt mundialia plura; / Ex his si qua placent carmina, tolle, lege. / Prata vides plena spinis et copia floris; / Si non vis spinas sumere, sume rosas” (qtd. in: Curtius 451, Exkurse.VI; not only with Augustine Conf. 1–8. 408, VIII.12.29). 28 As the reception of Pater’s “Conclusion” may demonstrate, the immoral implications were understood—even patent—from the start (cf. Beaumont “Introduction” ix–x; xx–xxix, spec. xxv; Gillespie 308). Wilde, outright: “if we grow tired of an antique time, and desire to realize our own age in all its weariness and sin, are there not books that can make us live more in one single hour than life can make us live in a score of shameful years” (“Critic as Artist” 378); meaning, a certain (physical) form of intensity vicariously obtained (not to say, procured). 29 The last words. Generally, see Blumenberg section “Die ästhetische Existenz als unbedingter Selbstgenuß” (“Ethik” 180; with 181; plus the qualifications at Beschreibung 723–724). 30 Pater may tend to stress passivity, waiting patiently, for the power of art to come over—to overpower—the resp. human being: “that continual vanishing away, that strange perpetual weaving and unweaving of ourselves” (119). “Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself is the end” (119). With regard to an “ästhetische Existenz”, Blumenberg describes its “Grundzug”

Intensity | 483

Conversely, it is very precisely agency—apparently deprioritized in Pater’s segment (or all but lacking, save for the act of ‘loving’)—as is stressed in Wilde: I am so glad that you have never done anything, never carved a statue, or painted a picture, or produced anything outside of yourself! Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days have been your sonnets. (Lord Henry to Dorian, “DG [1890]” 299, XIII)

Significantly, the latter’s tense shifts to the present, in the novel’s 1891 version: “Your days are your sonnets” (“DG [1891]” 179, XIX). Inasmuch as this passage’s function may simultaneously be read as appealing, the implied imperative would likely read: ‘make life art’.31 By virtue thereof, a human agent might harden, frame, and craft itself.32 Along Wildean lines: “Form is everything. It is the secret of life. Find expression […] and you intensify” (“Critic as Artist” 399).33 Like the decay and recycling of particulars, matter is a given; but so is its contingency. Even the inevitable might be seen, taken, made to seem otherwise. In general, poíesis will be relatable to téchne.34 Their formal products—here mainly processes of detractio, condensation, refinement, distillation, subtlety, compression, and the like—are also significant factors concerning content.35

|| as “das Leben weniger zu ‘führen’ als geschehen zu lassen[;] eine Daseinsform, die aus dem Momentanen heraus, aus dem ‘Rohstoff’ Leben selbst, sich geradezu vor aller bestimmenden Form hält”; it is that “‘Im Augenblick ersaufen’, vor dem Goethe sich zu bewahren suchte, […] das Aufgehen in einem punktuellen Wirklichkeitsbezug” (“Ethik” 180; plus the qualifications at Beschreibung 723–724). Cf. his mention of Freud’s quasi fatalistic remark: “die Komposition eines Buches mache man nicht, sie mache sich selbst” (cited at Rigorismus 64; see subch. 9.5, herein). Contrast the accent on agency in Wilde (while futile, in this case): Dorian “was trying to gather up the scarlet threads of life, and to weave them into a pattern” (“DG [1890]” 236, VI; with “DG [1891]” 81, VIII). Cf. also Gillespie: “Wilde’s application of Pater’s speculations in the practical sphere is evident enough in the two fictional lives he was creating at the time: Dorian’s and his own” (308). The remark will require a rhetorical reaccentuation. On autoethopoeia, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism passim; spec. 68n.–69n., 82, 135, 152n., 165n., 177n.). 31 Lord Henry’s description is hardly disinterested, sober, sachlich (‘sakely’)—to say naught of innocent. Within the novel, the above endorses—hence encourages, reinforces—the conduct it depicts; as well as more than insinuates that extratextual recipients might plausibly take their bearings from just such an attitude to life; and with a view to further connaisseurs, not least. 32 On selfcraft from a rhetorical perspective, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism passim). 33 For heuristic purposes, cf. these polyglot concepts, suggesting an interplay or integration of form and content: héxis, settled disposition, (quasi) second nature, habit formation; oikonomía, dispositio; disciplina, Haltung, contenance, composure; etc. 34 From a rhetorical perspective, see Lausberg (Elemente 20, §28). 35 Also, how it is received: “something about the very nature of compression and concision forces a kind of raw candor” (Shields 25). Horace stresses the pitfalls with regard to claritas and

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The—historico-linguistically accidental—homonymy in the deft word ‘VerDichtung’ would seem heuristically expedient, in said respect.36 Given brevity, effecting intensity may be a vital need—with art (sensu lato) qua tool thereto.37 Nor will it be necessary that all craft this for themselves (let alone only)— seeing as the animal capable of noetico-virtual vicariousness might delegate the requisite fabrication to composers and performers of various hues.38 Be the medium as it may. Music, drama, painting, sculpture, architecture, dance, diverse textures could—and do—conduce to the production of surrogate concentration (see 5.1.2 and 5.2.2, herein). The issue being so fundamental, even the respective frivolities will have some gravity: This is what I envy in you stage people. The notion that something HAS TO BE and within the next few seconds. You make time seem so important. That’s why you do it. You’re so frightened of what happens when there’s no clothes to change NOW, no entrance to make NOW. But that is not what life is, it isn’t a succession of urgent NOWS it’s a listless trickle of ‘Why should I’s?’[.] (Jeffreys 75, II.xii)39

Considering the vast demand for intensity by proxy, some are societally compelled—or freely choose—to artify their lives.

|| perspicuitas: “brevis esse laboro, / obscurus fio” (“Ars Poetica” 452, v.25–26). On detractio, see Lausberg (Elemente 30–32, §54 and spec. §60; 135–136, §407–411; 141, §428.3; Handbuch 251– 252, §462.2; 269, §504; 346–355, §688–711; 435–440, §880–889; 512, §1064); for applications, Mayfield (Artful 34; 55; 91–92; 121, 121n.; 151; 243–244, 244n.; 274; 364; 365n.; 402; 413; passim). Concerning subtlety as a formal quality (also), cf. subch. 11.3, herein. 36 While the etymology will differ (Kluge 141–141, s.v. ‘dicht’, ‘dichten’, entry #2; with English ‘tight’, ‘dictate’), it might not be incidental that these terms ended up merging phonetically. At any rate, semantic affinities cannot be excluded (be conceptual history as it may): ‘Dichtung’ does tend to be ‘dicht’, ‘verdichtet’, de re. Generally, cf. Schaeffer (Art of the Modern Age 94). As to the aforesaid, see Valéry’s descriptions (discussed in subch. 13.4.1, herein): “tout […] passera au crible, sera pesé, épuré, mis à la forme et condensé le plus possible”; “concentré, et cohobé, réduit”; “soigneusement composé en vue d’un effet final et foudroyant” (“technique” 1786). 37 In short: ‘it being brief, make life art’ (sensu lato). The syn- and diachronic polysemousness of the latter will likely conduce to a certain plausibility of this formula. Needless to say, the concepts of téchne, arte, Kunst, etc. have proven susceptible of highly distinct, diverse senses. 38 As to general and particular interconnections between vicariousness and rhetoric (resp. literature, spec. drama), cf. Trüstedt (“Novelle” passim; especially 547, 554). 39 The lack of any punctuation mark after “NOWS” might be a performative pun in the source.

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9.3 (Poly-)Perspectivity his peculiarities emerged from [the fact] that[—]precisely with regard to facing the scarcity of time [and] life [‘Lebenszeit’][—]he arranged his life in a more conscious and rational manner than most of his contemporaries. —Marquard on Blumenberg (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII; trans. dsm)40

Including when they are not held for the taking, a variety of other perspectives might be adopted—tentatively, temporarily.41 In a contingent world, the views of men are plural, not equal. Nor is such unsanitary: being highly susceptible to precipitous self-infection, monocultures have a tendency to atrophy. Ever will it be sobering to see things with a difference—if from a judicious distance. At times, ‘false’ assumptions may well seem sound in hindsight—precisely for having prevented ‘certain’ performances. Some experiments need not be run again (or at all), as they were already played out—or simulated—by proxy. Perhaps, they will anyway. Humans appear to be constitutively dissatisfied beings, who push (their) limits simply for the act thereof. Even so, the means might as well be made to converge with the end. Wilde renders this interplay or simultaneity a matter of viewpoints and priorities; to Dorian, “life itself was the first, the greatest of the arts, and for it all the other arts seemed to be but a preparation” (“DG [1890]” 262, IX; plus “DG [1891]” 107, XI). A gradatio is implied—with the equalization of ars and vita qua climax. The context stresses brevity, intensity—notably via the formulation “to concentrate […] upon the moments of a life that is itself but a moment” (“DG [1890]” 263, IX; see “DG [1891]” 108, XI). Humankind’s potential consciousness of its transience has always rendered said species particularly susceptible to a wide array of substitutes. If not as an antidote to, then surely as a relief from ephemerality, the lasting impression of quality time may stand to reason with a certain immediacy and self-evidence. In tendency, such would entail a dismissal of systematism, notably ethics: “no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself” (“DG [1890]” 264, IX).42 Even so, deciding in favor of an artful experience has consequences: “What matter what the cost was? One could never pay too high a price for any sensation” (“DG [1890]” 219, III; see “DG [1891]” 51, IV).

|| 40 Cf. Sommer: “[‘es sei ihm’] nur darauf angekommen, dies alles einmal gesagt zu haben” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77). In said context, at least. See the onset of ch. 5, herein. 41 For theoretical and applicative considerations in that regard, see spec. ch. 12, herein. 42 (With “DG [1891]” 111, XI). In another respect, cf. subch. 5.2.1, herein.

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As a matter of course, “any experiment of interest in life will be carried out at your own expense” (Jeffreys 13, I.i).43 Problems arise primarily in that it is typically not only one’s own. When living (for) the moment, such tends to be deprioritized. Eggs must be broken to make tempera; the rendering is all. A variant of this chapter’s titular tenet is sententified in Wilde as follows: “The first duty of life is to be as artificial as possible” (“Phrases” 433). More flippantly still: “One should either be a work of art, or wear” one (“Phrases” 434). In the ensuing, the self-same and vicarious option seem to be thought of as related by the conjunction—while simultaneously separate even so: Ernest. But what are the two supreme and highest arts? Gilbert. Life and Literature, life and the perfect expression of life. (“Critic as Artist” 350)

The facultative aspect implies various views on art’s vital nexus.44 Such would seem to comprise reflecting on that very same perspective itself. With certain affinities to the above, Benn’s “phenotype” formulates this imperative: one is to experience and make something artificial thereof; if a [‘]struggling against[’] pertains thereto, if it is existential, one is to apply it [sc. struggle]. The aim is the composition of the self into an experienced, intellectually verified form, into a stance[.] (Prosa 150; trans. dsm)45

|| 43 For a very literal case in this respect, see Lichtenberg: “Wer hat wohl das kostbarste elektrische Experiment gemacht? Antwort Richmann! […] Ich denke immer an Richmannen wenn ich etwas versuche, auch wenn ich nur spiele” (Sudelbücher I. 71, B.89 and B.91). Gamper glosses: “Dieses Experiment war deshalb das ‘kostbarste’, weil es den Experimentator das Leben gekostet hatte […][;] ins Allgemeine gewendet [‘bedeutete dies’] […] immer auch […] eine[…] Experimentalisierung des Menschen” (“Das Neue schreiben” 133). 44 Contrast Gillespie: “The approaches to life of the two self-destructive protagonists [‘Des Esseintes’ (Huysmans), ‘Dorian’] are quite distinct. Each fails for different reasons in his quest to create a life that is an extension of art, and the fatal miscalculation in both cases was the willful confusion of art with life” (307–308). As is common (if not knowledge), moralizing value judgments have a tendency to obscure any sober sense or assessment of a given phenomenon. 45 In “Roman des Phänotyp. Landsberger Fragment, 1944” (section “Der Stundengott”): “man soll erleben und etwas Artifizielles daraus machen; wenn Bekämpfen dazugehört, wenn es existentiell ist, wende man es an. Das Ziel ist die Herrichtung des Ich zu einer durchlebten, geistig überprüften Form, zu einer Haltung” (Prosa 150; Künstlerische 157). The latter could also be trans. ‘conduct’, ‘composure’; “Herrichtung” as ‘formation’. Cf. Benn’s “Probleme der Lyrik” (1951): “Artistik ist der Versuch der Kunst, innerhalb des allgemeinen Verfalls der Inhalte sich selber als Inhalt zu erleben und aus diesem Erlebnis einen neuen Stil zu bilden” (Essays 510). Via the tertium ‘form’, life and art (here, the poem) seem correlated—implying something like ‘ut vita poesis’ (cf. Horace “Ars Poetica” 480, v.361): “ein Gedicht drückt gar nichts aus, ein Gedicht i s t”—“ist […] ein Leben für sich” (Essays 517). See subch. 9.5, herein.

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Similarly, Wilde: “The aim of life is self-development” (“DG [1890]” 198, II); “self-culture is the true ideal of man” (“Critic as Artist” 387).46 The condition of possibility for refinements, makeovers is this animal’s constitutive capacity for conceiving of contingency: matters may be made to differ—including one’s own. In passing, several views on the topic at hand could seem to have been signaled: superficial ornamentation; vital shaping from the angle of an ‘artist of self’; an outsourced rendition after the fact (of experience); the correlation of outward form and stance within. There are external (receptive, hermeneutic) takes also—as another’s reader, observer, even connoisseur: “It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors” (“Preface” 236; cf. “DG [1891]” 4).47 Wilde’s novel—its young protagonist in particular—may serve to highlight some of these options. From a rather safe (though hardly good) distance, Lord Henry wishes to acknowledge his own power in making this very work of art— which he then ‘enjoys’ vicariously; and which, it seems, he crafted for this reason (if not alone): “To a large extent, the lad was his own creation” (“DG [1890]” 219, III; plus “DG [1891]” 51, IV). With attention to form, everything will be with a difference; and Dorian’s unequalness the point precisely. Being conducive to turning another’s life into artfulness renders the corresponding alter an object of study also, and not least: he had begun by vivisecting himself, as he had ended by vivisecting others. Human life […] appeared to him the one thing worth investigating. (“DG [1890]” 218, III; see “DG [1891]” 51, IV) now and then, a complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, Life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting. (“DG [1890]” 219, III; plus “DG [1891]” 51, IV)

The variance between voyeur and connaisseur may well be slight—notably in the case of aesthetes capable of pleasure by proxy; and inasmuch as the ‘object’ considered is (conceived of as) a human being. In this respect, diverse forms of vicariousness will pertain to ‘Moralistics’ (see 11.1.2). Such or similar essaying cannot but involve others, at least to some degree—seeing as not all experiences could be had fairly at first hand (and still be penned).48 In select setups, (noetic)

|| 46 (The former also with “DG [1891]” 19, II). Lord Henry declares: “The aim of life is selfdevelopment. To realize one’s nature perfectly […] the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one’s self” (“DG [1890]” 198, II; plus “DG [1891]” 19, II). 47 Cf. Blumenberg’s use of “Perspektivismus” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 114; in a literary context); the reference to “Pluralität als Gleichzeitigkeit von Aspekten” (“Vieldeutigkeit” 117; as to fine art). 48 Death, primarily—which could only be experienced vicariously. Cf. Blumenberg thereto

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experimenting may yield an alter’s artful life: “There is no such thing as a good influence […]. All influence is immoral” (“DG [1890]” 198, II; “DG [1891]” 19, II). Dorian admits, affirms that he is walking Lord Henry’s talk—surrogatively converting words into deeds: “That is one of your aphorisms. I am putting it into practice, as I do everything you say” (“DG [1890]” 211, III).49 This mentor is also a creator; and both are playing god in more than one sense.50 As in metaphysics, so in (im)morality: it is an outsourced consistency—and ‘cynicism’ by proxy.51 Withal, the externalized portrait changes, while the protagonist it initially portrayed does not—a mise en scène of Wilde’s insight that ‘art mimeticizes the observer’.52 In this way and so doing, Dorian instantiates what seems impossible otherwise: “We know that we become and pass away, [that we] are changing, but we do not experience it” (Blumenberg Lebenszeit 288; trans. dsm).53 Whereas said and similar cases will (in all probability) be counterfactual, a general conceivability of the converse or differing is based on the human capacity for thinking in terms of contingency. Dorian’s life is art in more than one sense: said portrait; his unethical conduct; as well as the (intra- and extratextual) ‘reception’ of (t)his work. The latter will be decisive. For an ‘(implied) reader’s response’ is indeed accentuated intermittently—also via mise en abyme.54 Within the novel, such is articulated by || (“Glossen [1983]” 28–29; with 30; “Frage” 33; Verführbarkeit 66–67); cited, discussed in subchs. 10.1, 10.2, and 10.4. As to the above, see also the onset of ch. 12, herein. 49 (Plus “DG [1891]” 43, IV). One will be dealing with a sort of prosopopoiía. Generally thereto—incl. further references—cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism passim). 50 As Lord Henry himself admits (see “DG [1890]” 219, III; “DG [1891]” 51, IV; also cited above). 51 Basil’s resp. remark concerning Lord Henry is simultaneously to the point—and short of the vicarious dimension: “You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose” (“DG [1890]” 188, I; with “DG [1891]” 8, I; the gloss at 8n.—giving Murray’s reference to the relationship of Rochester and Charles II—will be pertinent; see “DG [Oxford]” 577n.). “God bless our good and gracious King, / Whose promise none relies on; / Who never said a foolish thing, / Nor ever did a wise one” (Rochester 134). Needless to say, this potential analogy would imply a refunctionalization: the cynics are John Wilmot (in vivo) and Lord Henry (in vitro); not ‘Charles’ or Dorian. In general, cf. subchs. 6.3 and 6.6, herein. 52 (Plus “Preface” 236; “DG [1891]” 4). See the first ‘notice’ thereof (at “DG [1890]” 232, V; for its final changes, 294, XII; 301, XIII; with “DG [1891]” 76–77, VII; 145, XV; 182–183, XX). 53 “Wir wissen, daß wir werden und vergehen, uns verändern, aber wir erleben es nicht”. Said “uns” renders polysemous the phrase wherein it occurs: material, physical changes take place unconsciously, naturally (e.g. a body’s metabolism, for the most part); but the resp. human does have a potential for agency, in the sense of altering certain aspects (if not matters). 54 For the general concept(ualization) alluded to, see Warning on Iser (32); also Blumenberg (“Lebensgedichte” 20; 26; Gerade 12; 22; Vor allem 15; 27). ‘Pointedly’, Sommer states: “Es gibt bei Blumenberg keinen impliziten Leser” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77). As with all things: ça dépend.

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Lord Henry (in the parataxes already quoted): “Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets” (“DG [1891]” 179, XIX). Nevertheless, a price there is to pay. It involves virulent reflections on a potential contingency of the past, and a perceived unalterability of the coming: If one doesn’t talk about a thing, it has never happened. It is simply expression […] that gives reality to things. […] You must not tell me about things. What is done is done. (Dorian to Basil, “DG [1890]” 245, VII)55 The past could always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or forgetfulness could do that. But the future was inevitable. (“DG [1890]” 254, VIII)56

The praeteritio of the former (and foregoing) presages (or conduces to) the unavoidability of the latter—of what will happen later; and, in a sense, precisely

|| 55 (Cf. “DG [1891]” 90, IX). If few ‘make (their) lives art’, the opposite extreme may be seen in what Giordano Bruno attacks: (most) humans are “living [or: ‘experiencing’] the years of their own lives like lifeless [beings]” (qtd. in: Blumenberg Lebenszeit 143; trans. dsm; plus “Lineage” 25; and Heracleitus in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 159, 22B34). The former, with context: “Ma che di questi alcuni che son stati appresso, non siino però stati più accorti che quei che furon prima, e che la moltitudine di que’ che sono a nostri tempi non ha però più sale, questo accade per ciò che quelli non vissero e questi non vivono gli anni altrui, e (quel che è peggio) vissero morti quelli e questi ne gli anni proprii” (Bruno “La Cena” 34–35, I; plus Aschermittwochsmahls 97, I). See Antiphon (the Sophist): “There are some who do not live the present life, but prepare with great zeal as if to live some other life than the present one; and all the while time slips away unheeded” (821, 73[F56]; Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 361, 87B53a). Cf. Seneca: “mortem suam antecesserunt” (Ep. 1–65. 424, LX.4; with 424n.). Often—spec. after the murder—precisely such a life seems to be Dorian’s (sole) desideratum: to linger languidly, ‘listlessly’ (e.g. at Wilde “DG [1891]” 79, 86–87, 153, 156, 171); to discount (“What was the use of knowing”, “DG [1890]” 236, VI; with “DG [1891]” 80, VIII), “forget” (preceded by “tried to”, “DG [1890]” 288; see “DG [1891]” 138, XIV), ignore (“He was afraid of certainty”, “DG [1890]” 235, VI; cf. “DG [1891]” 80, VIII), spending his days in blissful oblivion—passing into the latter. Persisting in a holistic ‘artification’ of one’s life may exceed the capacities of most: Dorian does not appear to have Lord Henry’s moral flexibility, insouciance. Generally as to the above, see subchs. 4.1 to 4.4. 56 (With “DG [1891]” 99, X); “the secret of the whole thing was not to realize the situation” (“DG [1890]” 284, XI; plus “DG [1891]” 133, XIII). As to Dorian’s escapism, cf. spec. ch. IX (1890), resp. XI (1891): “these things, and everything that he collected in his lovely house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times to be almost too great to be borne” (“DG [1890]” 270, IX; “absolutely absorbed for the moment”, 268; cf. “DG [1891]” 117; and 115, XI). Yet all in vain; sense stimuli trigger his remembrance: “Gradually the events of the preceding night crept with silent bloodstained feet into his brain” (“DG [1890]” 286, XII; cf. “DG [1891]” 135, XIV). “He was prisoned in thought. Memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away. […] He wanted to escape from himself” (“DG [1891]” 156, XVI). Generally, see subchs. 3.7 to 4.4; the onsets of 4 and 5.

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because it has been, and is being, treated to (such) silence. What is tacitized resurfaces; relegated to the fine print, it reappears in the painting.57 The present point being: this very habit might also be otherwise(d); certain things could—just as well—not have occurred at all. Dorian is (made) aware of a potential for elseness (against his proclivity). He chooses not to act upon it. The human capacity for conceiving and conveying contingency comprises not only the option of (poetically) necessitating—but also of (bluntly) ignoring—it. Willful escapism may issue into a desire for virtual or actual vicariousness— facilitated by sheer cogitability. Hence Dorian feels compelled to declare: “I hope it is not about myself. I am tired of myself to-night. I should like to be somebody else” (“DG [1890]” 276, X; plus “DG [1891]” 125, XII). Needless to say, already his theatrical escapades had been a form of life by proxy.58 Wilde’s epigrammatic flippancy (in the remarks initially cited) cannot—nor does it aim to—conceal the plainly problematic implications. On the contrary: his écriture ostentatiously explores, exploits unethical potentials. For instance, in the essay “Pen Pencil and Poison”—dealing with a sort of gentleman killer: This young dandy sought to be somebody, rather than to do something. He recognized that Life itself is an art, and has its modes of style no less than the arts that seek to express it. (“Pen” 324)59

The immoral aspect pertaining to said reciprocity follows further down: “His crimes seem to have had an important effect upon his art. They gave a strong personality to his style” (“Pen” 338). The simultaneity of a highly refined form with unethical contents—such as a graceful delinquency or criminal elegance—epitomizes a cynical poetics. In this respect, Wilde’s frivolously serious sum total will seem paradigmatic: The fact of a man being a poisoner is nothing against his prose. […] There is no essential incongruity between crime and culture. We cannot re-write the whole of history for the purpose of gratifying our moral sense of what it should be. (“Pen” 339)60

|| 57 Cf. and contrast Wittgenstein (“Tractatus” 85, §6.522, as well as §7). 58 See Wilde (spec. “DG [1890]” 211–218, III; 223–225, IV; “DG [1891]” 43–50, IV; 65–69, VI). Cf. Jeffreys: “I want to be one of that multitude. I wish to be moved. I cannot feel in life, I must have others do it for me here [sc. ‘in the playhouse’]” (32, I.v; with 21, I.ii; 75, II.xii). 59 On a nexus of “pen [‘καλάμου’]” and “poison [‘φάρμακον’]”, see Plutarch (“Demosthenes” 74–75, §860, XXX.1). Thereto, see also subch. 10.2.2, herein. 60 Cf. the Wildean musings on “‘Culture and corruption’”—as placed into the mouths of Lord Henry and Dorian (“DG [1890]” 295, XIII; “DG [1891]” 173, XIX).

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Needless to say, most anything produced in the course of several thousand years of downright human lettering—hardly only in ethical, logico-ontological, metaphysical (to say nothing of theological) terms—has done just that, and little else. In this world, the past is as contingent as anything.61 While apparently conveying a comparable antithesis, antagonism, between ethics and aesthetics, Benn’s notorious formula—“the converse of art is not nature, but well-meant” (Künstlerische 164; trans. dsm)—may have something to do with the fact that neither ‘Nature’ nor human beings tend to be all that ‘wellmeaning’ (largely the latter).62 For hardly could the elemental problem—arising from what Valéry affirms as “cette brutalité”—be spirited away: “Literature is the art of toying with the soul of others” (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm).63

9.4 Immorality Ernest. […] It seems to me that in everything […] you have said there is something radically immoral. Gilbert. All art is immoral. —Wilde (“Critic as Artist” 380)64

|| 61 For theoretical backgrounds and tentative applications, see subchs. 3.7 to 4.4, herein. 62 Cf. Benn’s “Roman des Phänotyp. Landsberger Fragment, 1944” (in the section ‘Statische Metaphysik’): “Es hat sich allmählich herumgesprochen, daß der Gegensatz von Kunst nicht Natur ist, sondern gut gemeint” (Künstlerische 164; Prosa 156; with Marquard Skepsis 25; Glück 68). In the present respect, both the artlessness of bleeding hearts and the craftfulness of virtuosi are (mutually antithetical) replies to the common fact that ‘kósmos’ is a misnomer—and not capacitated to care. Benn rejects any ethical import of ‘Kunst’, in the 1930 radio dialog “Can poets change the world?”: “There is no other way of putting this: works of art are phenomenal, historically ineffectual, practically without consequences. This is their greatness” (Essays 99; trans. dsm). Cf. Lord Henry (to Dorian): “As for being poisoned by a book, there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. It annihilates the desire to act. It is superbly sterile” (“DG [1891]” 180, XIX). Even should this hold good (implausibly so, considering the totalizing claim), the reverse neither will nor could: dramatic poíesis is of prágmata and práxeis (see Aristotle “Poetics” 46–53, 1449b–1450b, §6; 60–61, 1451b, §9). In other genres, the former still requires the presence of the latter—at least in the artist. Cf. also subch. 9.5, herein. 63 “that brutality”: “La littérature est l’art de se jouer de l’âme des autres”. See subch. 13.4.1, herein. Cf. Freud as to the poet’s ability “Erregungen in uns hervorzurufen, deren wir uns vielleicht nicht einmal für fähig gehalten hätten” (“Dichter [Werke VII]” 213; with 223). 64 See Nietzsche: “art — and n o t morality” (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 17, “Versuch”, §5; trans. dsm); one of his ground swells. Cf. Wilde: “Æsthetics are higher than ethics” (“Critic as Artist” 406). Glibly, he renders the latter merely life’s condition of possibility: “Ethics, like natural selection, make existence possible. Æsthetics, like sexual selection, make life lovely and wonderful, fill it with new forms, and give it progress, and variety and change” (“Critic as Artist” 406).

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A required historicization of the above—as pertaining to the Fin de Siècle, the Décadence, Western aestheticism, literary Expressionism, or certain comparable nominal categories and discourses—may not completely veil their more general, or universal aspects.65 For poíesis—as per Aristotle—is concerned with the potential and probable, hence ‘more philosophical than history’ (in a sense).66 Imperatives appear to have moral implications, at an ethical level—the latter qua theoretical description, or schematizing doctrine, of potential human action. Life being some sort of becoming, its craftful rendition tends to be processual—in Dorian’s case, an ongoing work of grotesque art. Whereas Nietzsche’s manual-style formulation (“How to become, what one is”, “Ecce [KSA 6]” 255; trans. dsm) may still veil the problematic implications, the corresponding appeal will do so to a lesser extent: “‘Become the one you are!’” (Zarathustra [KSA 4] 297, IV; trans. dsm).67 Taking the finalizing and

|| 65 Generally in this respect, see Küpper: “Unsere geläufigen Epochenkonzepte, die wir problematisieren können und müssen […] zerfallen in zwei Gruppen: solche mit eher wertendnormativem Profil […] und solche, die in ihrem Namen ein bestimmtes Verhältnis zu anderen Epochen stilisieren […][;] keiner der uns vertrauten Epochennamen gehört in dem Maße beiden Reihen zu wie der der Dekadenz. Von ‘Verfall’ zu reden setzt voraus, daß man für die Zeit davor meint, sinnvollerweise von einer Epoche der Blüte sprechen zu können” (“Lyrik der Dekadenz” 143). “Dekadenz als literarische Epoche erscheint […] als eine neue Art des Hinsehens auf etwas, das bereits ‘da’ ist, als eine Bearbeitung der Tradition” (“Lyrik der Dekadenz” 162). “Die Dekadenz des 19. Jahrhunderts ist eventuell zur Dekadenz tout court geworden, weil die von ihr entworfene Welt alternativlos ist” (“Dekadenz [1997]” 200n.). “Das ‘Wesen’ des Dekadenten […] ist die rastlose und sich immer mehr beschleunigende Suche nach neuen Reizen, welche sich indes totläuft an dem, was erst die Voraussetzung für das Entstehen des Dekadenten […] ist: Es gibt kein Jenseits des Codierten” (“Dekadenz [1997]” 214; with 230). 66 See Aristotle: “it is not the poet’s function to relate actual events, but the kinds of things that might occur and are possible in terms of probability or necessity. The difference between the historian and the poet […] is this: that the one relates actual events, the other the kinds of things that might occur. Consequently, poetry is more philosophical [‘φιλοσοφώτερον’] and more elevated than history, since poetry relates more of the universal [‘ἡ (…) ποίησις μᾶλλον τὰ καθόλου’], while history relates particulars [‘ἡ δ’ ἱστορία τὰ καθ’ ἕκαστον λέγει’]” (“Poetics” 58–59, IX, 1451a–1451b). Halliwell glosses ‘more elevated’ as: “Of greater ethical import (by philosophical standards)” (“Poetics” 59n.; cf. 47n.; 32–33, II, 1448a; 46–47, VI, 1449b). See Lotman’s application of the Aristotelian view: “Der Rahmen eines Gemäldes, die Rampe einer Bühne, die Grenze der Filmleinwand bilden die Grenzen der künstlerischen Welt, die in ihrer Universalität in sich abgeschlossen ist. Damit hängen bestimmte theoretische Aspekte der Kunst als eines modellbildenden Systems zusammen. Das Kunstwerk, das selbst begrenzt ist, stellt ein Modell der unbegrenzten Welt dar. […] das Kunstwerk stellt ein endliches Modell der unendlichen Welt dar” (301). See the pertinent reaccentuations on the part of Kablitz (Kunst 161–165). As to the above, cf. subchs. 7.2.1, 7.3, and 11.3.4, herein. 67 See Pindar: “γένοι’ οἷος ἐσσὶ μαθών” (178, II.72). The subtitle of Nietzsche’s Ecce homo:

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commanding versions together, a form of manufacturing seems insinuated or entailed: ‘how to make oneself (such), and specifically this self one is’.68 The conception of art implied in said vital poetics is that of ‘téchne’ (‘ars’).69 This will not simply or only be the Ancient view—as might be taken for granted by believers in ‘Modernity’ soi-disant.70 For a ‘technical’ appreciation of poíesis

|| “Wie man wird, was man ist” (“Ecce [KSA 6]” 255). Then: “w i e m a n w i r d , w a s man i s t […] das Meisterstück in der Kunst der Selbsterhaltung — der S e l b s t s u c h t …” (“Ecce [KSA 6]” 293; “Warum ich so klug bin”, §9). The formula is present in sundry contexts, variants throughout Nietzsche’s œuvre; e.g. “B e g a b u n g. […] Jeder hat a n g e b o r e n e s T a l e n t , aber nur Wenigen ist der Grad von Zähigkeit, Ausdauer, Energie angeboren und anerzogen, so dass er wirklich ein Talent wird, also w i r d , was er i s t , das heisst: es in Werken und Handlungen entladet” (Menschliches [KSA 2] 219, I.263). The dictum is conceived in terms of potential and act, here. Cf. “W a s s a g t d e i n G e w i s s e n ? — ‘Du sollst der werden, der du bist’” (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 519, III.270). The formula “Amor fati” follows shortly after (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 521, IV.276). The first person plural provides an inclusive version: “Wir aber w o l l e n d i e w e r d e n , d i e w i r s i n d” (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 563, IV.335)—the accent being on the ‘will’ here; the context discards Kant’s “categorical imperative” (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 562, IV.335). An articulation of the appellative form is reserved for ‘Zarathustra’, whereby it is placed in a decisively ‘imperative’ work (at the onset of the fourth and last book, under the heading “Das Honig-Opfer”): “D e r nämlich bin ich von Grund und Anbeginn […] der sich nicht umsonst einstmals zusprach: ‘Werde, der du bist!’” (Zarathustra [KSA 4] 297, IV). Cf. “Werde fort und fort, der, der du bist — der Lehrer und Bildner deiner selbst! Du bist kein Schriftsteller, du schreibst nur für dich!” (KSA 9. 555, 11[297]). See Blumenberg on the notion “esse sequitur agere […], daß der Mensch erst durch sich selbst zu dem werde, was er ist” (Beschreibung 484; cf. and contrast 536). Likewise as to “Mihi ipsi scripsi” (Lebensthemen 67–79, here 67; particularly: “es Nietzsche nachsprechend”, 69; with 72; and Menschliches [KSA 2] 446, II.1.167). See subch. 13.1. Somewhat (while not altogether) tongue-in-cheek, Th. Mann logs (with respect to Fontane): “Scheint es nicht, daß er alt, sehr alt werden mußte, um ganz er selbst zu werden?” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 37; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 1). With this decisive nuance: “zu scheinen was er immer gewesen war” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 49; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 16). 68 In said view, a ‘soul’ or ‘self’ (be the terms as they may) is not from birth. Nor is anyone entitled to aught attached to such, similar essentialisms (let alone ‘dignity’). The socio-cultural implications are abysmal, from an Occidental viewpoint. See Mayfield (Ventriloquism 96–100). 69 With respect to the Greek concept of ‘poíesis’, ‘making’ and ‘art’ (conceived as ‘technical’) will be tantamount. See Lausberg (Elemente 20, §28); Blumenberg (“Nachahmung [2001]” 9–10; Wirklichkeiten 55); Mayfield (Artful 55n.; 96, 96n.); Marquard: “‘Kunst kommt von Können’” (Aesthetica 121; plus Skepsis 25; and Mayfield Artful 365n.). One is not dealing with the Kantian concept (contrast KU 49–50, §2; 55, §4; 58–69, §6; 71–72, §10–11; 94, §18; 99, §22; 100, §22). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 35n.); as well as ch. 13.2, herein. 70 Viz. in post-Romanticist times—biased by an ‘unholy’ (being inhumane) union of Idealism and ‘Enlightenment’. ‘Art’ in the sense of téchne implies something learn-, teach-, transferrable (this being the state of play and affairs indeed)—not Platonic mania (contrast “Phaedrus” 464–

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persists, as one among several conceptions. At its side, voluntaristic tendencies transfer the ‘quia vult’ to an ‘alter deus’.71 Potentially as of German Idealism, European Romanticism—clearly since certain twentieth century avantgardes— ‘Kunst’ is what anyone declares to be so (enactor or critic alike). In the technical sense, it is a craft or ‘formal’ performance. Morality usually proceeds from habitual value judgments—passed on (intended) deeds, according to custom; with ethics qua abstract systematization or theorization of such (societally sedimented) assessments. By contrast, art is in the making—and not the Critique. From a certain angle, techniques may well have a vital dimension. This function of téchne seems to be implied in ‘the art of life or living’.72 Perchance, there are commonsensical grounds for the makeshift existence of homines fabri: man might be a naturally deficient animal, which must compensate for its shortcomings.73 Said view would entail a temporary (potentially continuous) refinement, ever conditional honing—a provisional, impermanent perfectibilité even; albeit hardly in the ethical sense (clearly not to mention Enlightenment sermonizing).74 As Niehues-Pröbsting aptly observes:

|| 469, 244A–245C, spec. 245A); nor the ‘inspir(r)ationalities’ of Neo-Platonizing (not to mention cults of genius). Generally, see Schaeffer (Art of the Modern Age 92–93; also 40–55; passim). 71 Cf. Bubner (“Ästhetische Erfahrung” 38); Goldstein (40); Blumenberg as to the keywords “alter deus”, “deus in terris” (Legitimität 118). Müller: “humane Demiurgizität” (“Fußnote” 63). Generally as to the above, see subch. 4.4, herein. 72 For the Ancient implications, cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (Die antike Phil. 176–180). Spec. “Sie ist techne tou biou, Kunst des Lebens, […] im Sinne antiker techne […], als ein Können, das auf Wissen beruht” (Die antike Phil. 177). 73 Wilde, with his usual flippancy: “It is fortunate for us, however, that Nature is so imperfect, as otherwise we should have had no art at all. Art is our spirited protest, our gallant attempt to teach Nature her proper place” (“Decay of Lying” 291). Human nature is implied, but the scope is wider (if not total): “Life is terribly deficient in form” (“Critic as Artist” 375). Man—and spec. the latter’s art—is the (sole) measure: “life is chaos”; “it is the function of Literature to create, from the rough material of actual existence, a new world” (“Critic as Artist” 363). While this may seem Aristotelianizing, it is opposed to the Stagirite’s discursive tendency: “all art [‘τέχνη’] and education [‘παιδεία’] aim at filling up nature’s deficiencies” (Pol. 632–633, 1337a, VII.xv.11; with Blumenberg “Nachahmung [2001]” 9, 9n.). The latter describes, argues the point in utramque partem: “der Mensch als armes oder als reiches Wesen” (“Annäher. [2001]” 406; cf. “[‘man’] kann […] genauso gut sagen”, Unbegrifflichkeit 110). Where this arch-rhetorical mode is foregone, untenabilities are likely to result: “Alle menschliche Kultur ist ein Armutszeugnis” (Wetz/Timm 9). “Man ist versucht zu sagen: gerade weil das nicht ganz falsch ist, ist es so falsch” (Blumenberg “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 50n.). On the ‘homo faber’, see subch. 13.1. 74 Cf. “It is through Art, and through Art only, that we can realize our perfection; through Art, and through Art only, that we can shield ourselves from the sordid perils of actual existence”

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Rhetoric, not philosophy, is the art of living [‘Lebenskunst’] par excellence, if that is to signify the capacity for utilizing this life intensively and without respect for morality, for optimally arranging oneself therein, for prevailing and asserting oneself therein. (Einsicht 52; trans. dsm)75

Not without relish, Nietzsche highlights the immoral implications, when linking the formula “h o w t o b e c o m e w h a t o n e i s” to self-interest: this is “the masterpiece in the art of self-preservation — of s e l f - s e e k i n g” (“Ecce [KSA 6]” 293; trans. dsm).76 In its appellative function, the phrase tends to signify ‘make (your) life art’—egotism, with a vector of unbridled narcissism. From a decent vantage point, such can only be beyond the pale—to the extent of ignoring the other’s wants (let alone rights). Said imperative expressly refers to a form of ‘doing’.77 Qua potential action, it should fall within the purview of ethics. A stance defending art (respectively ‘aesthetics’) would refuse to recognize the latter’s claim.78 In the Posthumous Fragments, one of Nietzsche’s personae recalls a tentative statement on its part

|| (“Critic as Artist” 380; cf. “DG [1890]” 198, II; “DG [1891]” 19, II). Simmel declares: “Unsinn, daß das Leben zum Kunstwerk gemacht werden soll” (“Tagebuch.” 279). Yet (shortly after): “Damit, daß eine Sache, die wir machen, so vollendet wie möglich ist, entbinden wir uns oft genug der Verpflichtung uns selbst so vollendet wie möglich zu machen […]. Unter den vielen Menschen, die an ihrem Werk arbeiten, sind wenige, an denen ihr Werk arbeitet” (“Tagebuch.” 281). 75 Cf. “die Rhetorik […] [ist] in viel umfassenderem Sinne Lebens- und Überlebenskunst als jede andere Kunst” (Einsicht 106; with 125, 165). 76 “w i e m a n w i r d , w a s m a n i s t […] das Meisterstück in der Kunst der Selbsterhaltung — der S e l b s t s u c h t …”; the passage continues: “Dass man wird, was man ist, setzt voraus, dass man nicht im Entferntesten ahnt, w a s man ist” (“Ecce [KSA 6]” 293, “Warum ich so klug bin”, §9). Said section culminates in a restatement of ‘amor fati’: “Ich will nicht im Geringsten, dass Etwas anders wird als es ist; ich selber will nicht anders werden. Aber so habe ich immer gelebt” (“Ecce [KSA 6]” 295). 77 The present is an exceptional case, seeing that ‘poiein’ is (else amounts to) ‘práttein’. Generally, contrast Plato (“Charmides” 42–43, 163A–C); as well as Aristotle: “doing and making are generically different [‘ἄλλο τὸ γένος πράξεως καὶ ποιήσεως’], since making aims at an end distinct from the act of making, whereas in doing the end cannot be other than the act itself: doing well [‘εὐπραξία’] is in itself the end” (NE 337, 1140b, VI.v.3); “craftsmanship being manifested in what is made rather than in what is done” (“Magna Mor.” 561, 1197a, I.xxxiv.10; with 558–561, 1197a, I.xxxiv.9–10, 560n.). Even so, see Lamb’s expedient gloss: “The Greek word ποιεῖν (‘make’) can also mean the same as πράττειν (‘do’)” (Plato “Charmides” 42n.). 78 ‘Art’, ‘poetics’, affine concepts, will imply the productive side; the receptive might be designated ‘hermeneutics’, ‘aesthetics’, comparable terms. Such recourse to the abstract (qua shorthand) is not to spirit away the human involvement entailed; nor suggest that there could even be something like a production sans simultaneous reception—the artist or author being his own and first spectator, audience, reader. See subch. 11.2.2, with the onset of 5.2, herein.

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for ‘demonstrating the innocence of becoming’: “being something akin to a work of art, existence is not even under the jurisdiction of morality”—with this as one method for actively “crafting” a “feeling of utter irresponsibility” and ‘independence’ (KSA 11. 553, 36[10]; trans. dsm).79 The aim of such and similar attempts will likely be to liberate art(ists) from being domineered by moral constraints—provisos, obligations, ethical licita.80 The battle against the ‘purpose’ in a r t is always the battle against the m o r a l i z i n g tendency of art, against its subordination under m o r a l i t y: l’art pour l’art means: ‘to hell with morality!’ […] Does the artist’s affect refer to art itself? Or really rather to life? (Nietzsche KSA 12. 404–405, 9[119]; trans. dsm)81 Metaphysics, morality, religion, science [‘Wissenschaft’] — […] they are taken into consideration only as various forms of falsehood: [it is] with their aid [that a human being] b e l i e v e s in life. ‘Life i s t o instill trust’: the task, put like this, is enormous. To be able to solve it man must already be a liar by nature, more than anything else he must be an a r t i s t … And that he is[.] (KSA 13. 193, 11[415]; trans. dsm)82

Art’s alleged ‘autonomy’ amounts to its maker’s coveted independence. As ever, Idealism spirits away the decisive query: ‘cui bono’.83 The immediate point of reference is not “life” in general, but an artist’s particular one—meaning, (his, her) will, whims.84 Such will not only seem unethical on occasion, by accident.85

|| 79 “‘das Dasein ist, als etwas von der Art eines Kunstwerks, gar nicht unter der jurisdictio der Moral[’]”; “Gefühl völliger Unverantwortlichkeit”. 80 Wilde declares: “the sphere of Art and the sphere of Ethics are absolutely distinct and separate” (“Critic as Artist” 393). “Art is out of the reach of morals”—the aim being to avert that someone “proposes to limit the […]matter at the disposal of the artist” (“Critic as Artist” 394). 81 “Der Kampf gegen den ‘Zweck’ in der K u n s t ist immer der Kampf gegen die m o r a l i s i r e n d e Tendenz der Kunst, gegen ihre Unterordnung unter die M o r a l: l’art pour l’art heißt: ‘der Teufel hole die Moral!’ […] Bezieht sich der Affekt des Künstlers auf die Kunst selbst? Oder nicht vielmehr auf das Leben?”. Cf. “L ’ a r t p o u r l ’ a r t. — Der Kampf gegen den Zweck in der Kunst ist immer der Kampf gegen die m o r a l i s i e r e n d e Tendenz in der Kunst, gegen ihre Unterordnung unter die Moral. L’art pour l’art heißt: ‘der Teufel hole die Moral!’ […] Die Kunst ist das grosse Stimulans zum Leben: wie könnte man sie als zwecklos, als ziellos, als l’art pour l’art verstehn?” (“Götzen [KSA 6]” 127, “Streifzüge”, §24). See Mayfield (Artful 364, 364n.; for the ensuing: 367, 367n.). 82 “Die Metaphysik, die Moral, die Religion, die Wissenschaft — sie werden […] nur als verschiedene Formen der Lüge in Betracht gezogen: mit ihrer Hülfe wird ans Leben g e g l a u b t . ‘Das Leben s o l l Vertrauen einflößen’: die Aufgabe, so gestellt, ist ungeheuer. Um sie zu lösen, muß der Mensch von Natur schon ein Lügner sein, er muß mehr als alles Andere noch K ü n s t l e r sein … Und er ist es auch”. 83 Generally and in particular, see the onsets of chs. 4, 13; plus 3.1, 8.5.1, 11.2.2, 13.2, herein. 84 In ‘Decadent’ writing, the kathólou latent in all specifics has a tendency to be exceptionally

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Communally accepted ‘falsehoods’ are not so seen (excepting those not, or no longer, profiting). Living in one’s own world of ‘lies’ will be tolerated, just so long as no one notices. When they do, the respective fabricator’s take is either broadly adopted; else her, his, its end is quasi Socratic (as the case may be).86 Yet these are surface phenomena. All attempts at order signal its previous— ultimately, a fundamental—absence. Like other types of organization, sociopolitical or ethical codes respond to what is a chaotic state of play to begin with: “a ground of being for this worldly nonsense by the name of man is nowhere to be found” (Blumenberg Höhlen. 356; trans. dsm).87 Given the “primacy of contingency over morality”, the philosopher observes: “The obligation to being, whereon the bindingness of morality would have to rest, does not exist” (Jünger 49; trans. dsm).88 The answers to chance’s reign of terror differ considerably, especially in terms of their relative effectuality (under the circumstances respectively obtaining). In terms of function, they will likely be (all) equal. || inaccessible to the resp. contemporaneity. Analogously, the safe (if not good) distance of later judgments (spec. under different discursive regimes) is likely to spirit away the unethicality sheerly evident to the source setting—the relations, community, society actually affected by a given ‘libertine’. Focusing (solely) on the latter, a purportedly progressive ‘tolerance’ of priorly prohibited, proscribed conduct tends to neglect the collateral damage caused in situ. Presupposing their own (‘Modern’) morals qua standard of truth, critics fail to see the universal implications all the same. Without the notion and application of contingency, impartiality cannot even be approximated, much less reached. Needless to say, it always eludes the grasp. 85 Lord Henry’s desideratum—partly tied to some type of nostalgia—is outspoken as to the immorality entailed in making life art: “I believe that if one man were to live his life out fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream,—I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the maladies of mediævalism, and return to the Hellenic ideal,—to something finer, richer, than the Hellenic ideal, it may be. But the bravest man among us is afraid of himself. The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick” (“DG [1890]” 199, II; “DG [1891]” 19–20, II). As not infrequently in Wilde, an otherwise Aristotelian(izing) concept (here, kátharsis) is alluded to in a manner the Stagirite would hardly endorse. 86 Said alternatives are variously treated in chs. 10 (10.2.1, 10.4), 13 (spec. its onset, plus 13.5). 87 “es [‘gibt’] für diesen Weltunfug namens Mensch nirgendwoher einen Daseinsgrund aufzutreiben” (Höhlen. 356). Even so, the search will (hence must) go on. 88 “Primat der Kontingenz vor der Moral”. “Es gibt die Verpflichtung zum Dasein nicht, auf der die Verbindlichkeit der Moral beruhen müßte” (Jünger 49). In an early article, Blumenberg notes “das immer akute Problem einer Moral, die keine Ordnungen vorfindet, sondern sie allererst zu konstituieren hat” (“Ethik” 177; cf. ‘Faktizität der Moral’, 179).

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The art of morality is gregarious in nature and scope. Its official purpose tends to be any credible version of the so-called ‘common good’—meaning, a conglomerate of beliefs and construals plausible to a particular community at a given time. In view of contingency, living in accordance with one’s own craftful nature will be as well and reasonable—just not to everyone else.

9.5 Totality Art and nothing but art. It is the great enableress of life, the great temptress to life, the great stimulant to life… —Nietzsche (KSA 13. 194, 11[415]; also at 521, 17[3]; trans. dsm)89 an absolutism of mirrorings […]: everyone sees only him[-][,] [her-, it]self[.] —Blumenberg (Vollzählig. 476)90

Human art—or rather, its maker—sports an (intrinsic) bent toward exclusivity, “absolutism” (Blumenberg Sorge 87; trans. dsm), “totality” (Höhlen. 614; trans. dsm)—hence to “violence” (“Sokrates [2001]” 97; trans. dsm).91 With measured excess(iveness), Nietzsche asserts a ‘rape of reality by the artist’s artful ability’.92 || 89 “Die Kunst und nichts als die Kunst. Sie ist die große Ermöglicherin des Lebens, die große Verführerin zum Leben, das große Stimulans zum Leben…”. As is frequently the case in his œuvre, Nietzsche is using the grammatical gender of “die Kunst” for an eroticizing insinuation; hence the trans. “enableress”, while not idiomatic, seems needful. Generally, see Blumenberg as to “Verführungen zur Totalität” (Lesbarkeit 18, with 17). 90 “ein Absolutismus der Spiegelungen […]: Jeder sieht nur sich selbst”. This dictum may be read in conjunction with another (see Höhlen. 278; also cited in subch. 11.1.2, herein). 91 (The latter with “Sokrates [1964]” 308). Generally, Blumenberg refers to an “Absolutismus der Kunst” (Sorge 87; cf. “[d]er ästhetische Gegenstand stellt seinen absoluten Anspruch”, “Vieldeutigkeit” 113); and notes its ‘inherent tendency toward totality’: “Die platonische Höhle in gegenplatonischer Auslegung manifestiert nichts Geringeres als die tendenzielle Totalität aller Kunst. Sie ist nicht erst als späte und historisch-faktische Erfindung ‘Gesamtkunstwerk’; sie ist das der Inklination nach wesensmäßig” (Höhlen. 614; as to the latter, see Sorge 77; 204– 205; Marquard Aesthetica 7; 100–112). Blumenberg stresses: “Der ästhetische Absolutismus imitiert die Anforderung der Vernunft: beide dulden nicht, unter endlichen Zeitbedingungen zu stehen und anderes gelten zu lassen als sich selbst” (Beschreibung 609; plus “das absolute Werk”). As to the violence of art: “Kunst [ist] fundamental Gewaltsamkeit” (“Sokrates [2001]” 97; cf. Schiffbruch 32; Sachen 202–203; 205). The (Valéryan) context concerns the (ethical) problem of instrumentalizing (human) nature: “Der Mensch als ästhetisches, als technisches Wesen bedarf nicht der integralen Natur. Die Finalität des homo faber durchkreuzt rücksichtslos die Finalität der Natur[;] construire und connaître sind antinomisch, und der Natur gegenüber beruht das künstliche und künstlerische Werk auf einem Verzicht: der Mensch kann nur handeln und schaffen, weil er ‘ignorieren’ kann. In der Durchkreuzung der

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Due to said “claim to absoluteness” (Szondi “Erkenntnis” 275; trans. dsm), a process would be immoral in the doing, when based on—and effecting—the imperative at issue. For a reductive totalization will (quasi inevitably) lead to an instrumentalization—ultimately, a negation—of the (and any) alter, precisely in

|| Eigenstruktur des Natürlichen ist die Kunst fundamental Gewaltsamkeit[;] die Ordnung, die sie setzt, beruht auf der Unordnung, die sie anrichtet, so wie die Kunst des Strategen, an die Phaidros erinnert, auf einer Abrichtung der Individuen beruht, die deren Individualität für nichts achtet” (“Sokrates [2001]” 96–97; as to violence: “‘errungene’ Form”, 93; also “Sokrates [1964]” 308; and 305). Concerning “l’art du stratège”, see Valéry (“Eupalinos” 124–125; with Eupalinos [Rilke] 93); generally as to the aforesaid and the latter, also Krauthausen (56; 59–60; passim). On the whole, cf. Gehlen: “Ordnung abzuringen” (161); as well as Benn’s formula: “formfordernde[…] Gewalt” (Essays 520). Emphasizing life, Nietzsche stresses its inherent immorality: “vor der Moral […] m u s s das Leben beständig und unvermeidlich Unrecht bekommen, weil Leben etwas essentiell Unmoralisches i s t” (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 19, “Versuch”, §5). The result of this absolute valuation of life being exclusivity (“nur”), as in this notorious formula: “nur als a e s t h e t i s c h e s P h ä n o m e n ist das Dasein und die Welt ewig g e r e c h t f e r t i g t” (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 47, §5; with 152, §24; and 17, “Versuch”, §5; thereto, see Marquard Aesthetica 110). A possible (even likely) result of this estimate may well be the imperative at issue herein. Nietzsche also links life and art by virtue of the former’s influence on the latter’s unethicalities: “The refinement of cruelty belongs to the sources of a r t” (KSA 11. 510, 35[4]; trans. dsm; cf. Mayfield Artful 412, 412n.). With a totalizing (quasi Platonic) angle, Adorno—considering each ‘Kunstwerk’ the expression of ‘the Truth itself’ (“der Anspruch der einen Wahrheit”, 93, §47), and of ‘the Idea of the Beautiful’ as such (“die Idee des Schönen”, 92, §47)—arrives at a typically rigorist claim, declaring that one work of art is “a mortal enemy to the other”: “they wish to annihilate each other”; wherefore ‘every individual work’ is said to ‘aim at the demise of art as such’ (“Auf solchen Untergang zielt jedes Kunstwerk ab, indem es allen anderen den Tod bringen möchte”, 92, §47; trans. dsm). Contrast Szondi’s more descriptive and nuanced approach: “Aber es darf nicht übersehen werden, daß jedem Kunstwerk ein monarchischer Zug eigen ist, daß es – nach einer Bemerkung Valérys – allein durch sein Dasein alle anderen Kunstwerke zunichte machen möchte. Damit ist keine persönliche Ambition des Dichters oder Künstlers gemeint […]. Kein Kunstwerk behauptet, daß es unvergleichbar ist (das behauptet allenfalls der Künstler oder der Kritiker), wohl aber verlangt es, daß es nicht verglichen werde. Dieses Verlangen gehört als Absolutheitsanspruch zum Charakter jedes Kunstwerks, das ein Ganzes, ein Mikrokosmos sein will” (“Erkenntnis” 275–276). Cf. Olk’s affine and most pertinent remarks (127). As to the passage implied above, see Valéry’s—circumstantial and qualified—remark: “Je suis dans un tumulte de créatures congelées [sc. in a ‘salle de sculpture’], dont chacune exige, sans l’obtenir, l’inexistence de toutes les autres” (“musées” 1290). The context is decisive. It does not recommend itself to the representative absolutisms of Ideology Critique. Then again, the latter’s philosophical base— hence visions of politics, society, man—will have everything to do with ill-advised curating. 92 “Dies Vermögen selbst, dank dem er die R e a l i t ä t d u r c h d i e L ü g e v e r g e w a l t i g t , dieses K ü n s t l e r - V e r m ö g e n par excellence des Menschen” (KSA 13. 193). Cf. the onset of ch. 13, herein.

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the interest of the self’s artful formation of life.93 In the ensuing, Benn does not elaborate on the ethical consequences—while they might be manifest. A poet follows his individual monomania. Where this is comprehensive, it effects the utmost representation of the last greatness achievable by man. This greatness does not want to change [things] or have an effect, this greatness wants to be. (Essays 102; trans. dsm)94

Within a world of flux, stabilizing something is grounded in a previous state of contingency—meaning, even the patent fact of permanent variation may be otherwise (if temporarily). Benn’s emphasis spirits away the very alteration inhering in an (attempted) refusal to become—and so follow the wonted course of nature: “todo lo mudará la edad ligera, / por no hacer mudanza en su costumbre” (in Garcilaso’s artful wording, Poesía 194, XXIII.13–14).95 At any rate, such a ‘being’ (as evoked above) lives at the expense of others. Much like a ‘mono-theós’ (see Ex 20:3), it will not suffer aught beside (let alone before) it.96 Consequently, the claim to exclusivity—the totalizing tendency in

|| 93 Heuristically, one might speak of ‘oikonomía’—incl. being ‘economical with the truth’. Yet here as the least problematic option—considering the scope of (physical) alternatives. 94 “Er [sc. the poet] folgt seiner individuellen Monomanie. Wo diese umfassend ist, erwirkt sie das äußerste Bild von der letzten [sc. the highest] dem Menschen erreichbaren Größe. Diese Größe will nicht verändern und wirken, diese Größe will sein” (Essays 102). Withal, there will be an effect—in this comprehensive ‘form of being’ precisely; it being unlikely that said upshot would be ethical (even if attempted, not attained). 95 “and fickle time will alter everything, / if only to be constant in its habit” (Selected 43, XXIII.13–14). Though rather euphonious, Dent-Young fails to render the performative figura etymologica (“mudará”, “mudanza”)—being of semantico-discursive value, here (Lapesa, cited in the gloss, stresses the historico-generic import of such “juegos de palabras”; Garcilaso Poesía 194n., with 179n.). Less idiomatically, while closer to the source: “light time [sc. prone to levity, frivolity, ‘easiness’] will change it all, / so as not to make [any] change in its custom” (trans. dsm). Cf. this line from Cicero (de re): “ut ipsa varietas habeat aeternitatem” (“De fato” 246, Frag.2; via Servius). Also Goethe (in ‘Urworte · Orphisch’, s.v. “ΤΥΧΗ, das Zufällige”): “Die strenge Grenze doch umgeht gefällig / Ein Wandelndes, das mit und um uns wandelt; / […] Im Leben ists bald hin-, bald widerfällig”; but this is integrated into a circular—hence inevitable, determined—process (“geründet”, Gedichte II. 157, in ‘Gott und Welt’). 96 Benn hints at the ethical implications in a previous statement: “Der Künstler, der hat kein Ethos, das ist ein Freibeuter, ein Schnorrer, ein Ästhet” (Essays 101, “Können Dichter die Welt ändern?”). In “Soll die Dichtung das Leben bessern?” (1955), he stresses the irrelevance of ethical considerations for the artist—explicitly linking this to ‘cynicism’: “Der Kunstträger ist statistisch asozial […]. Er ist kalt, das Material muß kalt gehalten werden, er muß die Gefühle, die Räusche, denen die anderen sich menschlich überlassen dürfen, formen, d. h. härten, kalt machen, dem Weichen Stabilität verleihen. Er ist vielfach zynisch und behauptet, auch gar nichts anderes zu sein […][;] für bessern vollends hält er [sc. der Kunstträger] sich in gar keiner

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the work (being the artist’s, or that of a zealous critic)—has, or at least conduces to, downright immoral implications.97 In line with earlier considerations regarding perspectives potentially taken (see 9.3), the all-inclusive command to ‘make life art’ tends towards unethicality in a third respect—concerned with the act (or state) of reception. Paradigmatic instances are described by Lotman: [An] Extreme case: the norms of art are imposed on the situation of life – the gladiator fight in the Roman circus; Nero, who evaluates the burning of Rome according to the laws of stage tragedy; Deržavin, who, in Puškin’s expression, ‘out of poetic curiosity’ had a follower of Pugačev be executed by hanging. (53; trans. dsm)98

With typical trenchancy, Wilde expresses a similar affinity between self-interest and cruelty as pertaining to precisely everyone: “Nero and Narcissus are always with us” (“Phrases” 434). Craftful is the epigrammatic form itself: the varied alliterations of ‹n›, ‹a›, plus assonances of /n/, /a/, /w/; the general density of /a/ and /n/; the paronomasia ‹Ner›, ‹Nar›; as well as the eye rhyme ‹-us›, “us”. When ‘raw material’ is reduced to a terse form (perchance with hints of dryor wryness added), the resulting work—frankly wrought with immoral matter— will be received as cynical, thanks to this veritable conflux and simultaneity of artful form and unethical content.99

|| Weise für zuständig […] ‘unter Menschen war er als Mensch unmöglich’, dies seltsame Wort von Nietzsche über Heraklit – das gilt für ihn” (Essays 596; with 96; as to the latter, see Nietzsche “Vorreden [KSA 1]” 758, which has “unglaublich” instead). The aforesaid concept is formed by analogy to the standard term “Kulturträger” (Essays 596), while being contrary in terms of content. Even so, Benn cannot spirit away the fact that Marquard condenses into a variant of the Terentian formula: “Nichts Menschliches […] dem Schriftsteller fremd” (Skepsis 23). For a ‘cold, cynical observer’ will still (perchance almost unavoidably) take perspectival contingency into account—comprising the potential otherwiseness of his or her own view (be that as it may). As to the instrumentalization of others in the process of a formation of selves, see Nietzsche: “We are harder —, and maybe not only against ourselves, — than ‘humane’ men might wish” (KSA 11. 530, 35[43]; trans. dsm; with Mayfield Artful 347). 97 See Szondi’s nuance (as cited in its context, above): “Kein Kunstwerk behauptet, daß es unvergleichbar ist (das behauptet allenfalls der Künstler oder der Kritiker)” (“Erkenntnis” 276). 98 Lotman analyzes the reception (here “Situation Nr. 4”): “Autor und Leser haben in paradoxer Weise ihre Plätze vertauscht. Der Schriftsteller betrachtet sein Werk als Lebensdokument, als Bericht über verbürgte Tatsachen, der Leser ist auf ästhetischen Genuß eingestellt” (53). In general, poetics—and hermeneutic or aesthetic praxis even more so—will be a question of expectations: “was etwas ist, beruht auf dem Standard der Erwartungen” (Blumenberg Unbegrifflichkeit 35). Cf. subch. 13.4.2, herein. 99 Generally and applicatively thereto, see subchs. 6.3 and 6.6, herein.

502 | Make Life Art

Nietzsche, Wilde, Benn—all show a fondness for the aphoristic, rhapsodic, epigrammatic. Their generic proclivity conduces to a respective reception. With its tendency towards intensity, ‘making life art’ will typically appear as a form of reduction—an effect that is enhanced if expressed performatively, especially by recourse to devices of rhetorical detractio. In the technical sense, art means to provide a framework for, and impress a certain form on, a given material.100 Life, or human experience, seems to be a series of contingencies. By making it art, one renders the same ‘necessary’ (relatively speaking).101 This could be rather unproblematic, while only the self is concerned. It will—all but inevitably—yield (not only potentially) unethical results, when applied to others (most visibly so in the extreme instances cited). To the extent of being inclusive, an artful rendition of life is constitutively immoral. In view of said totality, the imperative at issue could even conduce to downright aestheticizing another’s demise—hence read: ‘make death art’.102 Such will seem the very zenith of cynicism. As with everything, there might still be an ethical twist in the tail: “Morality is often only possible, since no action has taken place as yet” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 608; trans. dsm).103 While representing (or ‘mimeticizing’) action, the procuratorial, relaying effects characterizing works of art may well tend to defer the pragmatic (perhaps in infinitum, as the case might be)—hence actually or potentially make it ‘unnecessary’ (so to say).104 Possibly, vicarious ethopoiíai would suffice for a free and lateral mind (to say naught of libertinage by proxy).

|| 100 As “a beginning, middle, and end” (Aristotle “Poetics” 55, 1450b, §7). Cf. Schmitt (passim). 101 See Blumenberg: “Das Ästhetische versteht sich immer als etwas Letztes, als das, was am Ende aller undurchsichtigen Bewältigung des Faktischen dem Ganzen die Qualität der Notwendigkeit gibt” (Lesbarkeit 321). 102 This results in the constitutively problematic position of poets (see Mayfield Artful 445– 451, on ‘Morality’s Contingency’). Certain genres are more affine to rhetoricization, which may lead to an (increasingly noticeable) aestheticization of assorted unethicalities (sc. cynicism). 103 “Moral ist oft nur deshalb möglich, weil noch nicht gehandelt worden ist” (Beschreibung 608). A typical condition for ethical considerations is ‘not having acted yet’ (the vector being inaction). Cf. subch. 12.1, herein. On “παρὰ προσδοκίαν”, see Demetrius (444, §153; with Tiberius Rhetor 66, §16; Hermogenes “ΠΕΡΙ ΜΕΘΟΔΟΥ ΔΕΙΝΟΤΗΤΟΣ” 453, §34); Eden: “sting in the tail” (“Lit. Property” 23). Harding refers to the ‘concluding’ turn of a Gorgianic encomium as “one of the most notorious twists-in-the-tail (para prosdokian) in Greek rhetoric” (202); “ἐμὸν δὲ παίγνιον” (“Helen” 762, 49[F10], §21; Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 294, 82B11, §21). 104 Generally, cf. Blumenberg (“unverwirklichte ästhetische Attitüde geblieben”, Schiffbruch 33; infinitized; ‘attitude’ sans tinge). The mímesis of prágmata, the (controversial) concept of ‘kátharsis’, are Aristotelian insinuations (see “Poetics” 46–49, 1449b, §6). A latent presence of related questions can only be suggested here. In line with the Stagirite’s general conception, a

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Withal, one will likely not be able to afford neglecting Nietzsche’s insight into the performative mechanics of selfcraft: “das Werk, das des Künstlers, des Philosophen, erfindet erst den, welcher es geschaffen hat, geschaffen haben s o l l …” (“contra Wagner [KSA 6]” 434).105 More poetically put (with Goethe’s grandstanding self-description): “wie mit Gedichten, ich machte sie nicht, sondern sie machten mich” (cited in: Blumenberg Quellen 86).106

|| potential for deferrals, deputization, and detours does not add up to something like ‘depragmatization’—on the contrary. With Kant, against the same: “B e r e d s a m k e i t und D i c h t k u n s t […] [haben ‘ihren Platz’] in einer p r a g m a t i s c h e n Anthropologie, wo man den Menschen nach dem zu kennen sucht, was aus ihm zu machen ist” (“Anthropologie” 559, BA179, BA194, §68B). See ch. 13.2. For the present context, his oughtful accent will naturally be changed from de- to inductive: anthropistics logs what humans are persuaded of, by; illustrates what they actually make of themselves—besides potentials aimed at, pondered; its purpose is the descriptive path per se. 105 From “Der Psycholog nimmt das Wort”, §1: “the work, that of the artist, of the philosopher, first of all invents the one, who crafted [or created] it, who i s [said or thought] t o have crafted it” (trans. dsm); the initial verb (also) in its etymological sense (Latin ‘invenire’). Generally, Marquard notes “den Menschen, der dichtet, um zu sein” (Aesthetica 22). 106 “as with poems, I did not make them, but [or: ‘rather’, ‘instead’] they made me” (trans. dsm). See Goethe: “es ging mir mit diesen Entwickelungen natürlicher Phänomene wie mit Gedichten, ich machte sie nicht, sondern sie machten mich” (“Kampagne” 23, “30. August”). The context is his “Farbenlehre”; spec. a prior—inductively advantageous—observation: “Eine Scherbe Steingut” in a “trichterförmigen Erdfall” (“Kampagne” 21). Blumenberg discusses the resp. passages in the essay “An der Quelle der Farbenlehre” (Quellen 84–92; here: 84). For a (typically Romanticist) variant, see this imperative: “Das Leben soll kein uns gegebener, sondern ein von uns gemachter Roman seyn” (Novalis in: Blumenberg Lesbarkeit 255, with 255n.). Cf. “Goethe hat sich stilisiert” (Schiffbruch 50; “sorgfältige[…] Stilisierung”, “Selbstdarstellungen”, Lesbarkeit 337; plus Goethe 228; “Das Artefakt der Kultfigur”, 64; “Es ist […] Inszenierung”, 66; “Selbstformung”, 143; with 154; and “‘Mon Faust’” 49). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 136n.; also 99n., 123). As to “life qua permanent mise en scène” (incl. of selves), see Küpper (“Dekadenz [1997]” 208n.; trans. dsm; plus context: 206–207, 206n.–207n.). “On the connection between art and life”—here Szondi with Valéry—cf. König (79, and 79n.). As to ‘(self-)stylizations’ more generally, see Blumenberg (e.g. “Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 84; “Sokrates [1964]” 286; “Sokrates [2001]” 75; “Staatstheorie” 146n.; “Unernst” 444; Schiffbruch 49; Legitimität 208; also 211n.; Sachen 64; Jünger 104). “Lebensdarstellung […] ist das ‘Kunstwerk’” (Quellen 84; spec. with 180). Cf. “Das Ich erfindet sich” (Sachen 33). Above all: “man ist nicht nur, was man war, sondern auch, was man gewesen sein will” (Sachen 31–32).

| Philosophistics Reasoning and Performing In the Face—and by Virtue—of Contingency

10 Life Being Brief (No Need to Cut It Short)— Concerning Blumenberg’s Senecan Affinities (Remarks on Plato, Diogenes, Epicurus, Cicero, Horace, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Wittgenstein, Marquard) Hier stehe ich und kann auch immer noch anders[.] —Marquard (Abschied 111)1

The title’s opening participial is a non-finite clause. Tautologies are the aim of logic. They may have added value in less self-contained contexts; notably such as take care, account of the path—be the goal as identical, inevitable as it might.

|| 1 “Here I stand and I can also always still [do] otherwise” (trans. dsm). Cf. Blumenberg’s nuanced version: “Der Trotz des Glaubens, der sagen darf ‘Hier stehe ich’, weckt den Zweifel derer, die das nie sagen könnten” (Lebensthemen 75). Ventriloquizing Erasmus, Snell stresses that the “blunt: ‘Here I stand, and stand I must’ could not but carry a barbaric note” (255). Another neo-Skeptic logs that—precisely by “identifying oneself with” one’s given, ‘linguistic’, “historical contingencies”—one might “‘stand unflinchingly for one’s moral convictions’” (Rorty Contingency 60). Cf. Küpper (“Kulturwissenschaft” 4). Needless to say, the point of reference is a dictum attributed to obstinacy incarnate: “Die Nation hörte sogar mehr als ihre Obrigkeit – nämlich jenen eindrucksvollen Schlußsatz, der sich nur in der veröffentlichten Fassung von Luthers Wormser Bekenntnis findet: ‘Hier stehe ich, ich kann nicht anders. Gott helfe mir. Amen’” (Oberman 47; cf. 46, 188, 216–217, 347n., 358n.). Mayhap, one will not be free—or else wish—to exclude the possibility that this is a (deliberate) hypólepsis of a notorious ethopoiía for Cato, “qui numquam recte fecit, ut facere videretur, sed quia aliter facere non potuerat”; who “never did a right action solely for the sake of seeming to do the right, but because he could not do otherwise” (Velleius Paterculus 124–125, II.xxxv.2; Schopenhauer— “Grundprobleme” 413, I.iii—has “poterat”). On the above: “Entsprechende Sentenzen Luthers brachte man bald nach Worms gezielt in Umlauf, auch Spalatin, der berichtet, wie Luther nach abgelehntem Widerruf auf dem Weg zur Herberge wie ein Soldat bekennt: ‘Wenn ich tausend Köpfe hätte, so wollte ich sie mir eher alle abschlagen lassen als einen Widerruf zu tun’. Die wenig später verbreitete Rede Luthers, die nur in der Version der Wittenberger Presse den markanten Schlusssatz ‘Hier stehe ich, ich kann nicht anders!’ enthält, stand am Anfang dieser Heldenlegende” (Knape 179; with 206). He records five variants in circulation: “Welche aber ist […] die Wormser Schlussformel? / ‘Dixi. Gott helfe mir. Amen’. / ‘Dixi. Hier stehe ich. Ich kann nicht anders. Gott helfe mir. Amen’. / ‘Dixi. Gott komme mir zu Hilfe. Amen. Da bin ich’. / ‘Dixi. Das helfe mir Gott […] Deus adiuvet me’. / ‘Dixi. So helfe mir Gott. denn ich kann keinen Widerruf tun’. / […] Die beiden symbolträchtigsten und populärsten Elemente der Reformationsereignisse (Thesenanschlag und Wormser Schlussformel) sind, zumindest im Detail, nicht eindeutig nachweisbar. […] Die Sache ist nicht zu klären. Es könnte also sein, dass den Wittenbergern, voran Spalatin, die berühmte Schluss-Sentenz erst für die Publikation des Redetextes als Resümee eingefallen ist” (206). Scripta manent. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-010

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Apart from allowing for the natural expiration of things or lifeforms in accord with their mortality, contingency will also permit their elseness, within certain limits. In the case of certain animals (specifically those rumored to be rational), there appears to be a capacity for actively and knowingly altering their state of affairs—performing life artfully, say; or terminating it deliberately.2 The extreme possibility—of unmaking life (altogether)—seems to coincide with what (as per contingent matter) generally tends to happen anyway, at least as concerns ephemeral humans.3 Perchance, it is with a difference even so.4

10.1 Marquard with Respect to Blumenberg on Seneca durchaus in Spuren Blumenbergs gehend[.] —Marquard (Abschied 19)5

To say nothing of morality or religion, a euphemistic phrase for the physical indisposition effected by demise or design could read: ‘beyond reason and wellbeing’. A problematic topic might have a tendency to entail laughter, even (or especially) if atrophied by indignation or compassion at the last. Maybe, even the briefest trace of a wry smile is preferable to silence—and be it vicariously induced or experienced: “Puisque la vie n’est qu’un jeu de la nature, il faut savoir rire dans la tempête” (La Mettrie, cited in: Blumenberg Höhlen. 386).6 During its brief history of presence (by a universal scale), humankind has dealt with death in differing ways; and is rather likely to carry on doing so—as shown by archeology, ethnology, medical science. There is contingency even in the inevitable—seeing as it may be taken elsewise; or given a different reading.7

|| 2 As to the former, see ch. 9, above; the present one addresses the complementary aspect. 3 Cf. e.g. Marquard: “in der menschlichen Gesamtpopulation beträgt die Mortalität hundert Prozent” (“Apologie” 123; with Zukunft 224). 4 As to quality over quantity, see spec. Seneca: “Non est res magna vivere; […] magnum est honeste mori, prudenter, fortiter” (Ep. 66–92. 172, LXXVII.6); “vita non est inperfecta, si honesta est” (Ep. 66–92. 170, LXXVII.4). “Recto tibi invictoque moriendum est. Quid porro prodest paucos dies aut lucrificare? Sine missione nascimur” (Ep. 1–65. 254, XXXVII.2). 5 Literally, “going in Blumenberg’s tracks indeed”; more idiomatically, ‘tracing Blumenberg’s steps indeed’ (trans. dsm). Cf. spec. Marquard (Endlich. 94–95); as well as subch. 10.2.2, herein. 6 Approx. ‘Seeing that life is nothing but a pastime (or game, diversion, amusement) of nature, one must know (how to) laugh in the tempest’ (trans. dsm). Blumenberg refers thereto “als letztes von La Mettrie überliefertes Wort am Schluß einer obskuren […] Schrift ‘Le petit homme à longue queue’” (Höhlen. 386; plus 386n.). 7 Cf. “Hermeneutik ist das Ändern dort, wo man nicht ändern kann: dort muß man eben etwas

Marquard with Respect to Blumenberg | 509

Odo Marquard—poised neo-Skeptic, standing member of ‘Poetik und Hermeneutik’, walking ‘impersonation of the occasional’ (as per Bubner), jovial proponent of serious ‘philosophoolery’, and a rhetorically ambulant tongue-incheek withal—took his leave in 2015.8 In passing, he followed his elder colleague Blumenberg, having gone ahead in 1996—very much in line with their habit of continuing to think and converse elsewhere.9 While nékyiai seem to have otherwise largely gone out of fashion in the Occident, one may still read Lucian—which is at least as good (and probably better).10 Closer in time (if not to home) than the Sophist’s often abysmal humor, there is another genre likely to offer represented lives of dialog; albeit—as a matter of natural course—in a more narrative, first- or one-person format. Within the framework of his commemorative address for Blumenberg, Marquard records several interchanges relating to the former.11 The ensuing is particularly prominent (in oratorical respects, not least): || stattdessen tun, nämlich interpretieren” (Marquard Abschied 123; with the formula: “stets auch noch anders gelesen [werden] und immer auch noch etwas anderes bedeuten [können]”, 131). “Hermeneutik ist die für Menschen lebensnotwendige Kunst, sich verstehend in Kontingenzen zurechtzufinden, die man festhalten und distanzieren muß, weil Wesen mit befristeter Lebenszeit sie nur begrenzt loswerden können” (Abschied 20). See subch. 4.5, herein. 8 “Odo Marquard, in persona ein Mann des Okkasionellen” (Bubner “Zufall” 15). “Mit dem Hinzutreten von […] Marquard gewann die Philosophie ihren (ist man versucht zu sagen) lachenden Dritten: den so skeptischen wie humorvollen Widerpart” (Jauß “Epilog” 530). Cf. Kaube’s obituary (passim; “stets auf einen Scherz hinausgelaufen”); spec. Marquard’s autoethopoetic dicta: “Lachen und Denken haben […] irgendwie miteinander zu tun” (Zukunft 190). “Skeptiker-Texte [‘sind’] zugleich ernste und vergnügliche Texte” (Zukunft 288; with: “diese verspielte Skepsis”, Endlich. 20). Generally in the above respect, see Freud: “Der Gegensatz zu Spiel ist nicht Ernst, sondern — Wirklichkeit” (“Dichter [Werke VII]” 214). 9 Cf. “So ist man zwar weiterhin an der Universität; aber man denkt nun woanders” (Marquard Apologie 114; for a variant: Aesthetica 80). See also Voller (164). Most felicitously, Amslinger records Jauß’ ensuing line in a letter to Blumenberg (of Dec 23, 1971): “[s]ich […] der Partnerschaft für die wahre Freiheit des Dialogues des Morts würdig zu erweisen” (Jauß qtd. in: Amslinger 192; located at DLA Marbach). No doubt (for—unlike latter-day tribunalists— Blumenberg was graced with the magnanimity of Ps 24:7; Vulgate). 10 See Lucian’s Nekrikoì diálogoi (“Dialogues of the Dead” passim). Here spec. the Diogenical onset: “σὸν γάρ ἐστιν, οἶμαι, ἀναβιῶναι αὔριον” (“Dialogues of the Dead” 2, §329, 1.1). As well as this: “ὅρα δὲ μὴ καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους νεκροὺς τὰ ὅμοια ἐρωτᾶν διδάξῃς” (“Dialogues of the Dead” 142, §454, 24.30). Cf. Montaigne (Essais II. 484, II.xviii; Essays 503, II.18); Stierle: “Jauß […] begriff die Literatur […] als das Versprechen endloser Gespräche” (“Nachruf” XVII). Blumenberg accentuates: “im genre des Totengesprächs [‘steck(…)en’] noch unausgeschöpfte Möglichkeiten” (“Sokrates [1964]” 287n.; “Sokrates [2001]” 75n.). Indeed. 11 In the latter’s exordium: “‘Welchen gegenwärtigen Philosophen halten Sie für bedeutend?’, wurde Hans Jonas gefragt; er antwortete: ‘Hans Blumenberg’” (“Entlastung [1998]” XVII; plus

510 | Life Being Brief (No Need to Cut it Short)

To me[,] th[e] foundational thought [‘Grundgedanke’] of […] Blumenberg’s philosophy […] seems to be the notion of [a] relief from the absolute. Humans cannot put up with the absolute. In very diverse forms[,] they have to gain distance from it. I initially formulated this [thought] during my 1980 […] laudatory speech on his behalf […][,] and then asked him: ‘Are you very dissatisfied with this interpretation?’ To which he, who could be very polite[,] [replied]: ‘Dissatisfied I am only with the fact that one may notice so swiftly that everything sort of comes down to this thought’. (“Entlastung [1998]” XIX; trans. dsm)12

Needless to say, Blumenberg’s subtle pointe is that, by the time of this laudatio, Marquard had actually known him for more than fifteen years; and the other’s phenomenal sense of humor is characterized by his not only reciting—and disseminating—the dialog anyway, but by assessing the remark as “polite”.13 The quality of quickness (in either sense), plus a respective wittedness, are evidently occasional, relative to the situation—an arch-rhetorical tenet.14 That aforesaid relief entails some previous inconvenience. In venerable philosophical terms, it implies having gotten (oneself) into aporíai—by posing (apparently) insoluble problems. “Blumenberg […] held on to the grand queries || further instances at XVIII, XXIV; also the epistolary exchange alluded to at XXIII). Cf. “er [‘soll’] gesagt haben […]: Goethes Geburtstag sei ihm wichtiger als sein eigener” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII). The indirectly abysmal charm of this potential sermocinatio would seem to characterize Blumenberg’s ethos rather well (for who knows how much he valued his own). Structurally, cf. Jas 2:8. Marquard’s eulogy was republished (e.g. Stattdessen 108–120; “Entlastung [1999]” passim; cf. this earlier, lifetime version of several key aspects: “Entlastung [1991]” passim). 12 “‘Unzufrieden bin ich nur damit, daß man so schnell merken kann, daß alles ungefähr auf diesen Gedanken hinausläuft’”. For the speech, see Marquard (“Laudatio” passim; referring to 55). It logs paradigmatic instances: “drei große[…] Absolutismen […] ‘Absolutismus der Wirklichkeit’ […] ‘Absolutismus der Transzendenz’ […] Absolutismus der theoretischen Distanz” (“Laudatio” 55). In a later version, he offers this list: “Entlastung von der absoluten Terminologie […] vom theologischen Absolutismus […] von der Absolutheit des nahen Leidens […] von der absolut abweisenden Wüste des Weltraums […] vom absoluten Anfang […] von der absoluten Wirklichkeit […] von der absoluten Tödlichkeit der Aussenwelt” (“Entlastung [1991]” 25). Implying (at least de re) an ‘Entlastung’ from ‘Entlastung’: “weil die Menschen sich vom Absoluten entlasten, entlasten sie zugleich das Absolute von den Menschen, so dass es sie verlässt” (“Entlastung [1991]” 25). Marquard adopts the slogan for his own agenda (see Glück 10; 82). Flasch refers thereto as “[d]ie glücklichste Formel, die bei der Suche nach einem Gesamtstichwort für Blumenbergs Arbeit gefunden worden ist” (204). 13 Cf. “ich [‘habe’] ihn […] Anfang bis Mitte der 60er Jahre […] kennengelernt” (“Entlastung [1998]” XVII); “näher kennengelernt habe ich […] Blumenberg […] 1965” (“Entlastung [1998]” XVIII); “ich empfand ihn als hilfsbereit, anregend, loyal, natürlich auch als Herausforderung und als einen, mit dem man durchaus gut auskommen konnte: dies auch wegen seines Humors und seines ausgeprägten Sinns fürs Spielerische, durch den er insbesondere intelligente Spielzüge honorierte und sich dadurch zuweilen entwaffnen ließ” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII). 14 Cf. Stierle on Jauß: “Der Geist war für ihn […] quecksilbrig” (“Nachruf” XXVIII).

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of philosophy: God, World and Man, Death, Evil […]. He never accepted bans on thinking” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII; trans. dsm).15 La pensée oblige (including etymologically): encumbrance and unburdening are complementary.16 For the time being, death will be the focus. Textual economy has a significative collection of essays provisionally conclude with a ‘closing remark, as yet unconfirmed’.17 It commences thus: How does one die in and with philosophies? Socrates would have disapproved of this plural or [would have] left it uncomprehended. Yet the question, how one dies with philosophy as such would have appeared to him as the essential one – and as the one he was about to answer soon. For the Stoics[,] this holds true once more in the grand gesture of death’s presence; for Epicurus only in the certificate of unreality for death. (Sorge 222; trans. dsm)18

Vicariousness will be a variant of dealing with death as Plato would have had to refuse officially, while practicing it literarily: another’s curtain call, experienced by proxy.19 At times, the departing—already half offstage—are said to have had enough strength for one final voiceover from behind the scenes (so to say).

|| 15 “Blumenberg […] hielt an den großen Fragen der Philosophie fest: Gott, Welt und Mensch, Tod, Übel […]. Denkverbote hat er nie akzeptiert: so wird ihm alles philosophisch wichtig”. ‘Relief from the absolute’ is tied in with a heightened awareness as to (one’s own) mortality: “des Menschen Entlastung vom Absoluten ist ‘endlich’, und je erfolgreicher sie ist, desto härter wird diese Endlichkeit für den Einzelnen. […] Weil das Absolute, von dem die Menschen sich entlasten müssen, sie ebendarum verlässt, lässt es [s]ie […] allein mit ihrer Endlichkeit, die Einzelnen allein mit ihrem Tod” (“Entlastung [1991]” 25). Cf. “Menschen sind stets mehr letal als final; […] stets mehr ihre Endlichkeit als ihre Vollendung” (“Finalisierung” 471; plus 467). 16 Blumenberg elucidates this reciprocity with respect to a fable (“Nachdenklichkeit” 59–60). Cf. subch. 10.3.3; but also the essai “Darf Philosophie schwer sein?” (Verführbarkeit 145–146). 17 “ein noch unbestätigtes Schlusswort” (Sorge 222). 18 “Wie stirbt es sich in und mit den Philosophien? Sokrates hätte diesen Plural mißbilligt oder unverstanden gelassen. Aber die Frage, wie es sich mit der Philosophie stirbt, wäre ihm als die wesentliche erschienen – und als die von ihm alsbald zu beantwortende. / Für die Stoiker gilt das nochmals im großen Gestus der Todesgewärtigkeit; für Epikur nur im Unwirklichkeitszertifikat für den Tod” (Sorge 222). 19 Cf. Blumenberg (in a Platonic context): “Nichts von allem, was es gibt, ist dem einzelnen so gewiß wie das, daß er selbst wird sterben müssen; von nichts anderem aber kann er zuvor so wenig wissen, wie es sein wird. Also hält er sich daran, wie es bei anderen war und zumal solchen, denen eine gewisse Sachkunde zugetraut wird” (“Glossen [1983]” 28–29; see 30; “Frage” 33). In a certain sense, death (and birth) cannot but be perceived vicariously: “Wir waren nicht dabei, als wir anfingen, und wir werden nicht dabei sein, wenn wir enden. Jeder erfährt es nur indirekt: Alle anderen haben Anfang und Ende, und man hat auch ihm bescheinigt und wird es ihm bescheinigen, dies sei bei ihm nicht anders” (Verführbarkeit 66).

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In condensed format, the traditional sedimentation thereof are ‘(famous) last words’—for which Blumenberg (among others) has a considerable faible.20 On occasion, this want will go so far as to legitimize their decided crafting: “Last words may be fabricated, if they are fabricated well, since they mostly have to be fabricated anyway” (Höhlen. 386n.; trans. dsm).21 Accordingly, the above essai concerning an ‘as yet unratified closing statement’ ends with wry words— warily wrought, and carefully placed in a dying apostate’s mouth: “Kein Grund mehr zur Sorge” (Sorge 222; see the second version, Verführbarkeit 107–108).22 Tying in with Blumenberg’s appreciation of (human) mortality, Marquard takes the latter as an expression of “solace” (“Trost”) in the face of “the finality and brevity of one’s own life” (“Entlastung [1991]” 26; trans. dsm). Formulated as a rhetorical question in his context, the philosopher effectually jests in earnest: “[i]t is […] rather comforting that we need not continue working out [‘weiterturnen’, sc. ‘with these acrobatics, gymnastics’] forever” (“Entlastung [1991]” 26; trans. dsm).23 At once, Marquard hints that—rather than ‘missing out’ on account of being mortal—humans are actually ‘spared’ much.24 Then again:

|| 20 See H. Ritter (“Der Arbeiter” 33); Waszynski (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 32, 32n.); A. Meyer: “Blumenberg, immer auch ein Sammler ‘letzter Worte’” (“Nachwort” 115). Said penchant may be seen as—if not vicariously induced, then—intensified by Jünger, antonomastically described as “Sammler ‘letzter Worte’” (Jünger 151; plus 143–151; spec. “seine Sammlung Letzter Worte”, 147; “der uns noch unbekannten Sammlung Letzter Worte, auf die Jünger gelegentlich verwiesen hat – eingeschlossen der Vorbehalt seines eigenen”, 149). Cf. subchs. 11.1.1, 11.2.1. 21 “Letzte Worte dürfen erfunden sein, wenn sie gut erfunden sind, da sie ohnehin zumeist erfunden werden müssen”. Blumenberg also redescribes remarks in a given author’s writings qua plausible last words; e.g. “de[n] erst postum veröffentlichte[n] Fünfzeiler […], der Fontanes ‘letztes Wort’ sein könnte […][:] Leben; wohl dem, dem es spendet / Freude, Kinder, täglich Brot, / Doch das Beste, was es sendet, / […] Ist das Wissen, daß es endet, / Ist der Ausgang, ist der Tod” (Vor allem 38–39; Gerade 32–33). Via its proximity to “spendet” and “Kinder”, the subtle writer will be insinuating the presence of an implied ‹n› in “Freude”, as well. See Fontane (“Balladen und Gedichte” 458). The last verse in said ed. would also work: “Alles in allem – es war nicht viel” (“Balladen und Gedichte” 459). Contrast the version still in Th. Mann (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 55; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 24). Spec. thereto, cf. Waszynski’s segment entitled “Lesen und lesen lassen” (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 32–35; here 32; the poem’s variants at 33; plus 33n.). 22 The discursive implications are abysmal; approx. ‘no longer any grounds for caring’ (trans. dsm). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 153, 153n.–154n.; incl. further references); and this wording: “d[ie] Erfordernisse[…] des Daseins als Sorge um sich selbst” (Blumenberg Sachen 182). 23 For the image, see also Fontane: “Brauchte man nicht seine Kräfte, um, des lieben Brotes halber, am Trapez weiter zu turnen, so wär’ es alles ziemlich gleichgültig; aber Aufgaben erfüllen sollen, ohne den richtigen Muck dazu, ist mitunter schwer” (Briefe 1879–1889. 494; letter of Oct 18, 1886; with Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 325). 24 Cf. “Bleibt uns – durch unsere Lebenskürze – der grösste Teil der Welt und Weltlektüre

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Not everyone gets the chance to die as he[,] [she, or it] deserves. Death is […] the precise opposite of a chance. This has an effect on [literally: ‘dyes’] the circumstances. Also on the last words, for which there still is time. Or on those, who conveyed them to us. (Blumenberg Goethe 101; trans. dsm)25

While conditions may be else, the factum brutum is unavoidable, cannot be not at all (quarantining the wishful construals of certain creeds). To the extent that matter itself is eternal, otherwiseness as such is unending. Its enabling effects will expire for—and with—the particulars that, while alive, are ever subject to it. Besides, there will be something like a potential for contingency by proxy— at least as long as humankind subsists. Those who remain (for the time being) can indeed alter, redescribe, fabricate a factual past—and almost at will. An implication of the initial sentence cited is prudently left unstated: death by design, at one’s own hand.26 This leads back to Marquard’s aforementioned ‘grand questions’—one of which is particularly pertinent to a eulogy, seeing as “having a deadline” is “our life’s characteristic”; and this factor is downright central for […] Blumenberg: our time is finite; for everyone’s surest future is his [or her, its] death. This is […] no indignant protest against death[.] […] [I]n his 1983 essay on selfconception, Blumenberg sees death as a condition for freedom […] by recourse to Seneca […]: ‘‘Qui potest mori non potest cogi’ […] ‘He who can abscond, cannot be aggrieved’’. (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII; trans. dsm)27

|| tatsächlich vorenthalten, bleibt er uns nicht vielmehr erspart” (“Entlastung [1991]” 26). Withal, Marquard stresses the factuality of death as a (counter-Cartesian) fundamentum inconcussum— versus a sheerly virtual, simulacral world, which aims at spiriting it away: “gerade wenn die moderne Welt zu handeln und zu denken versucht ‘quasi mors non daretur’ – ist […] der Tod [real]: ich sterbe, also bin und war ich wirklich und habe mich nicht nur erfunden oder erfinden lassen” (Aesthetica 98). 25 “Nicht jeder hat die Chance, so zu sterben, wie es ihm zusteht. Der Tod ist […] das Gegenteil überhaupt einer Chance. Das färbt auf die Umstände ab. Auch auf die letzten Worte, zu denen Zeit bleibt. Oder auf die, die sie uns überliefert haben”—being the first paragraph of the essai “Letzte Worte Wielands” (Goethe 101). 26 Suicide is (indirectly) referred to in other instances; e.g. “Der Tod bleibt unvorhanden noch für den, der seine causa efficiens schon in der Hand hält” (Verführbarkeit 67). Generally, see Blumenberg (Beschreibung 508–509; 550). 27 The euphemism is Blumenberg’s: “Qui potest mori non potest cogi. Zu deutsch vielleicht: Wer sich davonzumachen weiß, ist nicht bedrückbar” (Verführbarkeit 143; Selbstverständnis [1997] 18; cf. “Fragebogen [1985]” 260; Seneca “Hercules” 80–81, II.426). Treated contextually in subchs. 10.2.4, 10.3.1. For an application in a Gracianian setting, see Mayfield (Artful 251).

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Contingency empowers human beings to take the inevitable in more than one way. This enfranchisement comprises virtual—aesthetic, rhetorical, poeticohermeneutic—as much as factual alternatives; and the latter include the utmost indeed. It being natural to will, the animal in question is also at liberty to leave. In concluding his ‘epilog on Poetics and Hermeneutics’—written not long before joining Blumenberg—Jauß may be hinting at the above sententia, melded with Seneca’s variant “qui scit mori, nil posse fortunam” (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.7): [There] is th[at] immemorial awe as regards speaking of felicity [‘Glück’, ‘good fortune’, ‘happiness’] so long as one lives in it, th[at] hushed dread of its shattering[—]the only remedy against which will probably be to outmaneuver Fortuna, by putting a happy ending to one’s [own] endeavor oneself. (Jauß “Epilog” 533; trans. dsm)

Being possible by nature, it cannot be excluded that a given human lifeform freely lends an artificial hand to its own leave-taking. Seeing as contingency does allow for such a—hardly unproblematic— (re)solution, it will be advantageous to deliberate thereon from a safe and sober (if not good) distance: in the innocuous realm of scholarly virtuality; and by recourse to rhetorical argument in utramque partem vel in plures.28

|| 28 In technical terms and application, cf. subchs. 5.1.1, 8.4, 11.1.1, 11.1.3, 11.2.2, 11.3.4, herein.

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10.2 ‘Vita Brevis’—Versus and Vis-à-Vis—‘Mors Voluntaria’ ὀλίγος ἄρα χρόνος οὗτος ὁ τῆς οἰκήσεως καὶ ῥᾴδιος τοῖς οὕτω διακειμένοις. —Epictetus (Disc. I–II. 68, I.9.17)29

Before returning to Blumenberg’s Senecan hypólepsis in 10.3, the ensuing subchapters tentatively describe the various positions adopted in Antiquity regarding the human capacity for showing oneself out (voluntarily)—while simultaneously sounding its potential ‘rubbing’ with the fact that everybody’s time is limited to begin with. For there might seem to be a (tacit) tension between perceiving life’s brevity—and the act of cutting it even shorter.30 Whether steadfastly, with composure, indifferently, even serenely, or else, the Ancient—notably Stoic(izing)—praxis of self-induced departure is mainly a question of modus and manner, hence a matter of moral philosophy. Unlike the monotheistic religions—and specifically Judeo-Christian discourses (prohibiting it categorically)—the aspect of whether one may have recourse to suicide at all seems to have been less of an issue; as opposed to the conditions and reasonable grounds for doing so.31 In his indispensable study, Hirzel comments: That the Greeks arrived at a special designation for suicide only so late[—][while] the Latins never did at all (for suicidium is not [an] Ancient [term])[—]is characteristic for [the fact] that not until late did suicide attract special attention and become the particular object of controversies. (281n.; trans. dsm)

|| 29 “Short indeed is this time of your abiding here, and easy to bear for men of your convictions” (Disc. I–II. 69, I.9.17). 30 While this latent rub emerges most clearly in Seneca’s characteristically rhetorical poetics of ever arguing also on any of the other conceivable sides to any topic, the initiator of Stoicism had stressed brevitas, as well: “there is nothing we stand so much in need of as time [‘μηδενός θ’ ἡμᾶς οὕτως εἶναι ἐνδεεῖς ὡς χρόνου’]” (Zeno, as per D. Laertius Lives II. 132–135, VII.23; with Pohlenz Stoa 11; 360n.; von Arnim SVT I. 70, §323). On Zeno’s quasi suicide (at a high age), see D. Laertius (Lives II. 138–141, VII.28; 142–143, VII.31); Nietzsche (“griech. Litt.” 195, III.11). 31 See Shakespeare (Ham [2nd] 187, I.ii.131–132; with 187n.–188n.); Schopenhauer (PP II. 275– 276, §157, XIII, ‘Ueber den Selbstmord’). Spec. this nonpareil formulation: “Der […] Eifer der Geistlichkeit monotheistischer Religionen gegen den[…] [‘Selbstmord’] scheint […] auf einem verhehlten Grunde beruhen zu müssen: sollte es nicht dieser seyn, daß das freiwillige Aufgeben des Lebens ein schlechtes Kompliment ist für Den, welcher gesagt hat παντα καλα λιαν? – So wäre es denn abermals der obligate Optimismus dieser Religionen, welcher die Selbsttödtung anklangt, um nicht von ihr angeklagt zu werden” (PP II. 276, §157, XIII; plus 334, §179, XV). He seems to see said deity as a cynic: “so ein Gott JEHOVA, der animi causa und de gaieté de coeur diese Welt der Noth und des Jammers hervorbringt und dann noch gar sich selber Beifall klatscht, mit παντα καλα λιαν, – Das ist nicht zu ertragen” (PP II. 272, §156, XII, ‘Nachträge zur Lehre vom Leiden der Welt’). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 338; 369–370, 369n.–371n.).

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Above all, the latter will have to do with an emergent discourse, preparing to conquer Greco-Roman minds—and therewith the worlds—of Late Antiquity.32 Disclaiming all dogmatic rigor(ism)—for which the later School in question remains particularly notorious—the ensuing segments aim at provisionally elucidating the various stances taken by the Platonic ‘Socrates’, the Stoic(izing) writers Cicero, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Seneca.33 At any rate, a continuation of such tendencies—or (formerly) ‘orthodox’ aspects ‘liberated’ from discursive embedment—must be reckoned with (if ex negativo); especially considering the influences on Patristic Christianity, Humanist Neo-Stoicism, and beyond. Before proceeding to the perspectives taken, some general and comparative remarks on certain of said authors or movements will seem (if not needful, then) permissible. Simplifications are a matter of course in synopses; and deliberately leave much leeway for nuancing—virtually everything being provisional. Seneca Stoicizes ostentatiously; Epictetus is relatively ‘orthodox’; Marcus Aurelius rather eclectic.34 The Christian discourse was (quite literally) made by appropriating whatever seemed expedient for its bare message; and many Church Fathers were particularly under the influence of the School at issue— legacies to resurface later, during the Renaissance and Baroque, with an accent on the more philosophical aspects.35 Certain of their affinities run deeper even than those with—an ultimately aristocratic—Platonism, seeing as Early Christianity and the popular strands of Stoicism were largely directed at the uneducated, analphabetic masses, or (former) slaves; hence committed to similar strata, milieus, and modes of orality in their ‘missionary’ work, whether in the form of diatribes or sermons.

|| 32 Aristotle—who speaks against the practice’s legitimacy—has (e.g.) “ἀποκτιννύναι ἑαυτὸν”, “ἑαυτὸν σφάττων”, “τῷ ἑαυτὸν διαφθείραντι” (NE 318, 1138a, V.xi.1–3). Besides the phrase refunctionalized above (“mors voluntaria”), Augustine uses (e.g.) “in se ipsis perpetraverunt”, “se ipse interemerit”, “sibi homo ingerit mortem” (de civ. Dei I–III. 96, I.xxii); “spontaneam mortem sibi inferre” (de civ. Dei I–III. 112, I.xxvi). In a martial context, Cicero features a version of the aforesaid formula: “ad voluntariam mortem” (“de senec.” 86, XX.75). See the n. in 10.2.1. 33 The assorted strands of Stoic(izing) thought may well be localized on a variable continuum: by no means is this a monolithic tradition. Acts of reception being hypoleptic, one is facing refunctionalizations, (tendential) reworkings, uptakes with (decided) qualifications. 34 Rist refers to “Marcus Aurelius” as “the last of the Stoics and the devoted reader of Epictetus. But the views of Marcus are more varied than those of his predecessor; they sum up most of the inconsistencies on the subject of suicide […] in the Stoic school” (252–253). 35 Cf. “Das Christentum zog durch seine Sittenstrenge gerade auch die Kreise an, die bisher ihre Befriedigung in der Stoa gefunden hatten. […] Es gab so vieles, was beiden […] gemeinsam war. […] der Sieg des Christentums wurde gerade dadurch erleichtert, daß es die zugkräftigsten Gedanken der Stoa dem eigenen Glauben einzuordnen verstand” (Pohlenz “Einführung” XXV).

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While Cicero displays a decided proclivity for Academic Skepticism, there are also overlaps with Stoicizing tendencies, notably vis-à-vis his friend Atticus. The pervasive use of philosophical tradition(s)—rendering the Roman rhétor their Renaissance mediator par excellence—will ultimately be heuristic (sensu technico). With a view to copia (especially, not only, rerum), he exploits matters and formats extractable from the cultural networks of his day—melding diverse sources, discourses, rearranging matters economically (for the topic at hand).36 If Seneca’s case differs much, it is in genus or style. Few (if any) œuvres in world literature reached such a degree of ostentatious rhetoricization: severe, terse, crisp, acute, pointed, pithy, epigrammatic—hence durable, ‘floatational’, portable.37 Like Cicero, he is an—effectually eclectic—conveyor of forms, as well as contents; here specifically to the European Baroque. While either may seem didactic at times, neither of them is dogmatic. The aforesaid impression appears to be a rhetorical veneer—even an effective pose—in many, if not all, cases: both cater to the moral proclivities of their cultured recipients. Those ‘Stoicisms’—of the Late Republic, early imperium—are written with a view to a highly cultivated elite: reading circles, epistolary interlocutors. By contrast, the diatribes ascribed to Epictetus—as recorded, edited, crafted by Arrian—yield an impression of orality, immediacy, the (virtual) presence of spectating hearers. Apparently directed at a (vulgar) audience with little, if any, sense (let alone appreciation) for subtleties, his sermons are utterly doctrinaire, simplifying, proselytizing (not to say propagandist), (con)front(ation)al, and not seldom downright insulting.38 Be the means as they may: the purpose of these diatribes is altogether ethical, as a matter of course.

|| 36 On the concept of culture as a (virtual) network, see Küpper (Cultural Net passim). His model is also taken up in subch. 10.2.2. For applications, cf. spec. ch. 7, herein. 37 A. U. Sommer speaks of the “staccato-Befehlston seiner [sc. Seneca’s] schneidenden Prosa” (72). What Gamper/Mayer observe in general may seem markedly germane to this particular: “Kleine Formen suggerieren Punktgenauigkeit” (12). 38 Schopenhauer’s judgment on Arrian’s ‘Epictetus’: “man [‘findet’] endlose Deklamationen, in unermüdlich wiederkehrenden Ausdrücken und Wendungen. […] Dazwischen wird jeder anders Gesinnte beständig Sklav und Narr geschimpft. […] So aber ist dieses, mit seinen hyperbolischen Schilderungen[,] […] seinem Schimpfen auf alle anders Denkenden eine wahre Kapuzinerpredigt. Einer solchen angemessen ist dann freilich auch das Planlose und Desultorische des ganzen Vortrags. […] nach dem nexus idearum [‘wird’] […] vom Hundertsten aufs Tausendste übergegangen” (“Fragmente” 60, §6, ‘Stoiker’; but cf. WWV II. 181 and 184, §16). “Die Inkonsequenz des ARRIAN tritt sogar auf eine lächerliche Art hervor, in diesem Zuge, daß er, bei der unzählige Mal wiederholten Schilderung des vollkommenen Stoikers, auch allemal sagt: ‘er tadelt Niemanden, klagt weder über Götter noch Menschen, schilt Niemanden’, – dabei aber ist sein ganzes Buch größtentheils im scheltenden Ton, der oft ins

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At least ostensibly, Marcus Aurelius writes with himself in mind (if not only). While a Stoicizing ground swell will be discernible, the very make of these meditations accommodates (or conduces to) eclecticism: short, laconic, transportable, pragmatic, often akin to martial imperatives, generally almost ‘mantra-like’ (so to say)—characterized by frequent repetitions with variation. Strictly in formal terms, the emperor’s style seems considerably closer to the epitomic quality of the Epictetian encheirídion than even to Seneca’s shortest essays and epistles (to say nothing of Ciceronian prolixity). Thus far this general sýnkrisis—entirely tentative, subject to revision, and with the requisite generalizations. The set of issues to be (re)traced in the ensuing concerns a probably unresolvable tension: between life’s being brief to begin with—and actions aimed at cutting it short deliberately. Perhaps, the problem is particularly patent from the perspective of later recipients. If so, reasonable grounds therefor appear well prepared in Seneca, where the positions condensable into the formulae ‘vita brevis’ and ‘voluntaria mors’ may be encountered virtually abreast—not without a certain ‘delicacy’, even in their ostensive dissonance de re.39 At any rate, discretion is advisable: “Not to spare readers complicated turns and long distances was always regarded by the author as his way of showing them respect” (M. Sommer “Ed. Notiz [2007]” 352; trans. dsm).40 Curtailing an already short story; setting hand to oneself; making the smart move in passing; showing oneself out; being proactive with respect to natural processes: not altogether incidentally, euphemisms seem to have a heuristic function with a view to indicating a latent issue as might otherwise go unsaid.41 The Greeks—and Stoics especially—used distinctive expressions: “Already Antisthenes had glossed over suicide with the word ἐξαγωγὴ[;] it was only with Zeno that this became εὔλογος ἐξαγωγή” (Hirzel 281; trans. dsm).42 Roman

|| Schimpfen übergeht, abgefaßt” (“Fragmente” 62, §6). Cf. e.g. Epictetus (“Disc. III–IV” 134–135, III.xxii.13; 146–147, III.xxii.48–49; 150–151, III.xxii.59; “Encheiridion” 488–489, §5; 530–531, §48; with Mayfield Artful 60, 64, 64n.; 67, 67n.–68n.). 39 Demonstrating his bon goût, Blumenberg notes the “Delikatesse, die seine [sc. Seneca’s] Sprache für uns angenommen hat” (Verführbarkeit 143). The statement ensuing above likewise refers to the philosopher. See subch. 10.3.1, herein. 40 Cf. and contrast Blumenberg’s remarks on Nietzsche in an affine respect (Lebensthemen 73; 77). As to the above, see M. Sommer’s corresponding anecdote, nuance (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77). 41 Generally thereto, cf. Marquard’s comment in another context: “die Zeit der Aesthetica ist zugleich die Zeit der Anaesthetica, auch der Konjunktur der Euphemismen” (Glück 53). 42 See D. Laertius: “They [sc. Zeno, Chrysippus, the Stoics] tell us that the wise man will for reasonable [‘εὐλόγως’] cause make his own exit from life [‘ἐξάγειν ἑαυτὸν τοῦ βίου’], on his

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redescriptions may be encountered in Seneca’s “exitum mollem” (“easy exit”, Ep. 66–92. 70–71, LXX.24), “aequo animo abire” (“to depart calmly”, Ep. 1–65. 212–213, XXX.4).43 Likely a loan translation of the Latin phrase, the German has the significative term ‘Freitod’, which synergetically (not to say, symbiotically) melds the words ‘free’ and ‘death’—an accent to be returned to later.44

|| country’s behalf or for the sake of his friends, or if he suffer intolerable pain, mutilation, or incurable disease” (Lives II. 234–235, VII.130). With Rist (239, 239n.; also 235). Cf. Pohlenz (Stoa 146); spec. “Signal zum Aufbruch” (Stoa 147). Hirzel speaks of “den unzähligen Euphemismen, mit denen die Alten die Schrecken des Todes verdeckten […]. Mit ἔξιθι τοῦ ζῆν fordert zum Selbstmord auf M. Aurel. 5, 29 […] auch dem freiwilligen Tode sollte so sein Stachel genommen werden und er aufhören, moralischen wie physischen Abscheu zu erregen. […] an sich […] [kann] ἐξαγωγή ebensowohl den Tod im allgemeinen wie den Selbstmord bedeuten” (281n.). Cf. Marcus Aurelius: “ζῆν ἔξεστιν. […] τοῦ ζῆν ἔξιθι”—i.e. ‘depart’, “go out of life” (122–123, V.29). Seneca has the phrase “emittit se”, inter multa alia (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.5). 43 See Fothergill-Payne (Seneca 90). All but naturally, this need for euphemisms will lead to selectively figurative—at times, altogether allegorical—accounts. Cf. e.g. Plutarch’s striking metaphor: “just as one passes through a storm. But if some great unforeseen [‘παραλόγου’] disaster comes upon him and masters him, the harbor is close at hand and he may swim away from his body [‘σώματος’], as from a leaky boat” (“Tranquillity” 230–231, 476A, §17; cf. 231n.). Further, arch-familiar images as might be put into figurative perspective with regard to death comprise that of life as a voyage. Both allegories (on land, sea) are present in Seneca side by side (Ep. 66–92. 56–57, LXX.1–3). On the former: “this journey [‘viam’] upon which we have set out is one which need not be followed to the end” (Ep. 66–92. 170–171, LXXVII.3). The immediate vicinity has “viatici […] viae […] viam […] Iter […] vita” (Ep. 66–92. 170, LXXVII.3– 4)—within the space of two sentences. Cf. “apertam libertati viam”; “ad libertatem iter” (“De Ira” 294, III.xv.3–4). On brevity as linked to the above: “Nulla vita est non brevis” (Ep. 66–92. 180, LXXVII.20)—having stated that “Nullum sine exitu iter est” (Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.13). Cf. the Platonizing version (for rhetorical effect): “Vis adversus hoc corpus liber esse? Tamquam migraturus habita” (Ep. 66–92. 64, LXX.17). See Montaigne: “The goal of our career is death” (Essays 57, I.20; with Essais I. 224, I.xx). “Yet there is no road but has its end” (Essays 67, I.20; and Essais I. 239, I.xx). “All days travel toward death, the last one reaches it” (Essays 67, I.20; plus Essais I. 240, I.xx). On the Christian (re)appropriation of said tópos—spec. in Lope, also in Calderón—see Küpper (Diskurs-Renovatio 62, 62n.–63n.; 101–125, particularly 111n., 113–116, 113n.; 154, 170; Discursive 53, 53n.; 88; 91–116, spec. 102–105; also 139n., 145n., 160). Generally, Niehues-Pröbsting refers to “Wegmetaphorik” qua “jene[…] vielleicht allgemeinste[…] und umfassendste[…] Metapher des menschlichen Daseins” (“Der ‘kurze Weg’” 104). 44 The very presence of this concept—and the view it sediments verbally—is of particular import; and will be returned to with respect to Blumenberg’s reading of Seneca (in subch. 10.3). Hirzel logs further German instances; inter alia, the (no longer customary, vaguely Platonizing) euphemism “‘Selbstentleibung’” (used in Kant); as well as “‘Selbstthat’” (in Leibniz; qtd. at 218n.)—the reason being: “mit Mord [‘war’] von vornherein der Begriff eines Verbrechens verbunden” (281n.). See Rist’s pertinent précis of dictionary definitionousness (234–235).

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Life being brief already, human animals—enabled by a potential perception of (their) contingency and evanescence—have an accompanying capacity to end it on their own terms. Regardless whether freedom of will (or choice) be an actual or assumed faculty, they seem to be under the impression that voluntary performances are possible—demonstrated, not least, in the diachronic and universal practice of (rhetorical) deliberation. “To be, or not to be” is among the possible ‘quaestiones infinitae’ indeed (Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 277, III.i.56).45 Incidentally, this could conduce to tentative rationalizations of suicide— even, or especially, if no such action is then taken; or one that has a like effect, while quasi detouring via others. As concerns the latter, Hamlet’s sub-, but not consequent case may stand to reason (to say naught of more excruciating ones). Generalizing for heuristic purposes, it is particularly ‘the Stoics’, who not only elaborated on the respective reasons or justifications; but (as per tradition) not infrequently also walked their talk to the end—and normally not by proxy.46 Needless to say, the School’s official ‘source type’ was a (former) Sophist.47 || 45 Cf. Jenkins’ précis, sober assessment (484n.–490n.), “see[ing] Hamlet’s situation in its most universal aspect”; on par with the scholar’s economy, proceeding “from the general to the particular” (485n.). Also his references to argument in utramque partem: “the speech […] debates the pros and cons of human existence”; “Shakespeare, characteristically seeing both sides” (489n.). Hamlet’s soliloquy will have to be read in decidedly rhetorical terms—i.e. with respect to the subdivisions of the genus deliberativum (suasoria, controversia). From a Stoicizing perspective, see Cicero (De Fin. 278–279, III.xviii.60); and subch. 10.2.2, herein. 46 For (early) Stoic testimonies on suicide (with intercalated comments), cf. Pohlenz (Stoa 145–147); spec. as to Zeno’s (Stoa 9); Cleanthes’ (Stoa 15); and Persaeus’ (Stoa 16). Plutarch polemicizes: “the Stoics speed many sages from life on the ground that it is better for them to have done being happy and restrain many base men from dying on the ground that they ought to live on in unhappiness” (“Against the Stoics” 693, 1063C, §11). See Rist: “whether or not to commit suicide is a matter for the wise man to decide rationally for himself” (17); “the Stoics think of taking one’s own life as in some circumstances a perfectly reasonable course of action. From the very beginnings of Stoicism suicide was held to be permissible for the wise man” (130). “During the whole of classical antiquity suicide was not only common but acceptable and justified by a variety of circumstances. […] justification of the practice has been regarded as an especially Stoic phenomenon” (233; with 238–239; “suicide is, as it were, mentioned in passing”, 241–242). Generally, see Oldfather’s gloss: “committing suicide […]—a practice […] defended by many Stoics” (in: Epictetus Disc. I–II. 67n.). Similarly Haines: “The right of suicide was part of the Stoic creed (Zeno and Cleanthes both took their own lives). Marcus Aurelius allows it when circumstances make it impossible for a man to live his true life” (in the latter: 44n.–45n.). See also Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 247). 47 Cf. Blumenberg (Verführbarkeit 92). As to the death of Socrates qua suicide, see Hirzel (245): “An dem Oxymoron eines freiwilligen Todes, zu dem der Mensch gezwungen wird, nahmen die Alten keinen Anstoß” (245n.). See also subch. 10.2.4. For an affine application—relating to the concept of a ‘source type’ (tying in with Lotman, 151, 151n.)—cf. Mayfield (Artful 11–12, 18–55).

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10.2.1 The Platonic Socrates on the Way Out Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Σίβυλλα, τί θέλεις; respondebat illa: ἀποθανεῖν θέλω. —Petronius (100, §48)48

When outlining the philosophical issue of suicide in Antiquity, Plato’s ethopoiía for ‘Socrates’ is an inevitable point of departure. In passing, he remarks: “and tell him [sc. ‘Evenus’], if he is wise [‘σωφρονῇ’], to come after me as quickly [‘τάχιστα’] as he can. I, it seems, am going to-day” (“Phaedo” 212–213, 61B, §5). The supreme ironist will be punning on the second option posed by a proverbial line—here in the Sophoclean rendering very specifically (considering Plato’s rhetorical hypólepsis): Not to be born comes first by every reckoning [‘μὴ φῦναι τὸν ἅπαντα νι-/κᾷ λόγον’]; and once one has appeared, to go back to where one came from as soon [‘τάχιστα’] as possible is the next best thing. (546–547, v.1225–1228)49

|| 48 Serving as a motto prior to the dedication, this line opens Eliot’s opus magnum, wherefrom North’s trans. is here cited: “For I once saw with my own eyes the Cumean Sibyl hanging in a jar, and when the boys asked her, ‘Sibyl, what do you want?’ she answered, ‘I want to die’”; he comments: “The Sibyl […] is confined to a jar because her body threatens to deliquesce. Granted a wish by Apollo, she had asked for as many years of life as there are grains in a handful of sand, but she forgot to ask for eternal youth as well” (The Waste Land 3n.). See Ovid: “‘elige’, ait [sc. Phoebus] ‘virgo Cumaea, quid optes: / optatis potiere tuis’. ego pulveris hausti / ostendens cumulum, quot haberet corpora pulvis, / tot mihi natales contingere vana rogavi; / excidit, ut peterem iuvenes quoque protinus annos. / hos tamen ille mihi dabat aeternamque iuventam, / si Venerem paterer: contempto munere Phoebi / innuba permaneo” (Metamorph. IX–XV. 308–311, XIV.135–142). In lieu of love, she is “deo furibunda recepto” (Metamorph. IX– XV. 308, XIV.107; cf. Plato “Phaedrus” 464–469, 244A–245C, spec. 245A; plus Seneca “de tranquillitate” 284–285, XVII.10). The philosopher in question may well be said to partake of a similar fate, wherefore eternity will hardly be an idea to toy with. 49 Typically attributed to Theognis: “It is best of all for mortals not to be born [‘μὴ φῦναι’] […] but once born [‘φύντα’] it is best to pass the gates of Hades as quickly [‘ὤκιστα’] as possible” (234–235, v.425, v.427). Schopenhauer cites both of the above; plus affine utterances (see WWV II. 682–683, IV.46; with Lütkehaus/Bodmer 101–102). Cf. Hirzel thereto; he logs: “den Wunsch, doch nie geboren zu sein, [‘vernehmen wir’] zuerst aus dem Munde Hesiods” (86; with 86n.). See Epicurus’ decided rejection: “Much worse is he who says that it were good not to be born, but when once one is born to pass with all speed through the gates of Hades. For if he truly believes this, why does he not depart from life [‘πῶς οὐκ ἀπέρχεται τοῦ ζῆν’]” (in D. Laertius Lives II. 652–653, X.126–127; with 653n., referring to Theognis). Later versions incl. e.g. “Il vaudrait presque autant que l’homme ne fût pas né” (Diderot “Neveu” 50; cf. Mayfield Artful 334, 334n.). Nietzsche’s notorious narrative offers this attribution: “Es geht die alte Sage, dass König Midas lange Zeit nach dem weisen S i l e n , dem Begleiter des Dionysus, im Walde

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Perhaps justly (in)famous—and from more than one perspective—these verses can only be expressed by someone who is factually beyond the first option; and (at least in the very moment of utterance) not acting in accord with the second. Consequently, their condition of verbal possibility will be the conceivable contingency of a given state (whether past, present, or future): it may be otherwise, or not at all (in this case, especially the latter).50 Following some to and fro, Socrates declares the precise opposite of the aforesaid—apparently popular (or at least widespread)—view: Evenus will take my advice, and so will every man who has any worthy interest in philosophy. Perhaps, however, he will not take his own life [‘οὐ (…) βιάσεται αὑτόν’], for they say [‘φασι’] that is not permitted [‘οὐ (…) θεμιτὸν’]. (“Phaedo” 212–213, 61C, §5)51

|| gejagt habe […]. Als er ihm endlich in die Hände gefallen ist, fragt der König, was für den Menschen das Allerbeste […] sei. Starr und unbeweglich schweigt der Dämon; bis er […] unter gellem Lachen in diese Worte ausbricht: ‘Elendes Eintagsgeschlecht, des Zufalls Kinder und der Mühsal […][.] Das Allerbeste ist für dich gänzlich unerreichbar: nicht geboren zu sein, nicht zu s e i n , n i c h t s zu sein. Das Zweitbeste aber ist für dich — bald zu sterben’” (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 35, §3; cf. 57, §7; with Blumenberg Die nackte Wahrheit 17). For the Christian context— holding the contrary—the latter states: “Die Schöpfung ließe sich nicht rechtfertigen, wenn die Geltung des Satzes anfechtbar wäre, daß Dasein besser sei als Nichtsein. […] Unter diesen Voraussetzungen wäre es Ausdruck der äußersten Sinnlosigkeit, nicht geboren zu sein, und Ausdruck höchster Blasphemie, nicht geboren sein zu wollen” (Beschreibung 647). As a humorous contrast, see Fontane: “ich war aber glücklicherweise nicht dabei, sonst wäre ich längst tot, und der Mensch ist nun doch mal dumm genug, leben zu wollen” (letter of July 16, 1887; Briefe 1879–1889. 553, §523; cf. Blumenberg Vor allem 155). Likewise, see this witful variation on the matter: “Selbst wenn Silen recht hätte mit seinem Satz ‘das Beste ist es, nicht geboren zu sein’, hat doch Polgar noch mehr recht mit seinem Kommentar […] ‘Das Beste ist es, nicht geboren zu sein: doch wem passiert das schon” (Marquard Abschied 52); “selbst ein Suizid erfolgt ex suppositione nativitatis. […] Polgars Kommentar zu Silen: ‘Das Beste ist es, nicht geboren zu sein: doch wem passiert das schon?’” (“Apologie” 129). 50 Cf. Blumenberg’s description of “Kontingenz” qua “Auch-anders-sein-Können[…], welches das Auch-nicht-sein-Können als seinen bloßen Extremfall einschließt” (Phänomen. 135). See especially subchs. 4.4 to 4.5, herein. 51 Cebes later echoes these terms hypoleptically (“Phaedo” 214–215, 61E, §6). The segment is couched in provisos like “φασι”, “they say” (“Phaedo” 212–213, 61C)—taken up by Cebes (“Phaedo” 214–215, 61E, §6). Socrates reaffirms that “I myself speak of the[se] [matters] only from hearsay [‘ἐξ ἀκοῆς’]” (“Phaedo” 214–215, 61D, §5); that his performance is “μυθολογεῖν” (“Phaedo” 214, 61E, §5). Cf. “διαμυθολογῶμεν” (“Phaedo” 242, 70B, §14). Apelt notes the “Bildlichkeit der Rede in diesem Abschnitte” (“Phaidon” 137n.), stressing the spec. “Situation” as concerned with “Trostgründe aufzustellen gegen den Tod” (“Phaidon” 136n.). Besides the ‘storytelling’ mode, said segment is shot through with rhetorical terms like “εἰκός” (“Phaedo” 216, 62C, §7), “πείθεσθαι” (“Phaedo” 218, 63A, §7), “πιθανώτερον” (“Phaedo” 218, 63B, §8),

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The previous intimation is now on the table; but the arch-philosopher gives the ‘religious’ (see Apelt’s gloss, “Phaidon” 135n.)—respectively his (quasi) ‘paradoxical’—view as something that “they say”, insinuating common knowledge.52 Predictably, Cebes needs clarifying: “‘What do you mean by this, Socrates, that it is not permitted to take one’s life, but that the philosopher would desire [‘ἐθέλειν’] to follow after the dying [‘τῷ ἀποθνῄσκοντι’]?’” (“Phaedo” 213–215, 61C, §5).53 As usually in Plato, an actual—or apparent—impasse is rhetorically requisite to keep alive the underlying rationale: ongoing conversation. After some more back and forth, Socrates remarks—with ostensive reserve: the doctrine that is taught in secret [‘ἀπορρήτοις’] about this matter, that we men are in a kind of prison [‘φρουρᾷ’] and must not set ourselves free [‘οὐ δεῖ δὴ ἑαυτὸν ἐκ ταύτης λύειν’] or run away [‘οὐδ’ ἀποδιδράσκειν’], seems to me [‘μοι φαίνεται’] to be weighty and not easy to understand. (“Phaedo” 216–217, 62B, §6)54

|| “πείσῃς” (“Phaedo” 220, 63D, §8), “μοι φαίνεται εἰκότως” (“Phaedo” 220, 63E, §8), “εἰκότως”, “πιθανώτερός” (“Phaedo” 240, 69D–E, §13), “πίστεως”, “εἰκὸς” (“Phaedo” 242, 70B, §14); etc. 52 On legal grounds, Aristotle will later consider suicide to be illegitimate by implication: “the law does not sanction suicide [‘οὐ κελεύει ἀποκτιννύναι ἑαυτὸν ὁ νόμος’] (and what it does not expressly sanction [resp. ‘and any form of homicide that it does not expressly permit’], it forbids). […] the suicide commits injustice […] against the state rather than against himself […]. This is why the state exacts a penalty; suicide [‘τῷ ἑαυτὸν διαφθείραντι’] is punished by certain marks of dishonour [‘ἀτιμία’]” (NE 318–319, 1138a, V.xi.1; with 318n., comprising a pertinent discussion). See Schopenhauer (PP II. 275, §157, XIII, ‘Ueber den Selbstmord’). As regards the decisive opening statement, the trans. on the part of Rolfes/Bien may seem more to the point (de re): “Nun gebietet das Gesetz aber z. B. nicht, sich selbst zu töten; was es aber nicht zu töten gebietet, das zu töten verbietet es” (Nikomach. Ethik 127, 1138a, V.15). Leaving aside the (excluded) option of exile, said clause and qualification may well be read with Socrates in mind—whose death at his own hands was ordered indeed; hence hardly prohibited. 53 Something “definite” is wanted from Socrates—asserting his speaking “only from hearsay” about these matters (“Phaedo” 214–215, 61D–E, §5–6). It is agreed that “perhaps it will seem [‘φανεῖται’] strange [‘θαυμαστόν’] to you that this alone of all laws is [de re: should be] without exception […] and it will perhaps seem [‘φαίνεται’] strange [‘θαυμαστὸν’] to you that […] human beings for whom it is better to die [‘than to live’] cannot [de re: should not] without impiety [sc. be permitted to] do good to themselves, but must [de re: should have to] wait for some other benefactor” (“Phaedo” 214–215, 62A, §6; for the metalingual glosses, cf. Apelt’s rendition, “Phaidon” 34, 62, §6). His trans. seems superior in terms of the sense demanded by the context: “Freilich wird es dir wohl wunderbar vorkommen, daß dieser Satz allein schlechtweg und ausnahmslos gelten soll im Gegensatz zu allen anderen Bestimmungen. Sollte denn auch hier nicht eine Ausnahme gelten? Nämlich daß es zuweilen und für manche besser ist tot zu sein als zu leben. Was aber diejenigen anlangt, für die es besser ist tot zu sein, so scheint es dir vielleicht wunderbar, daß es diesen Menschen nicht erlaubt sein soll, sich selbst die Wohltat zu erweisen, sondern daß sie auf einen anderen Wohltäter warten sollen” (“Phaidon” 34, 62, §6). 54 Said ‘phrourá’ was variously (re)construed—also in the military sense, as ‘post(ion) of a

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Dialogico-poetically, the accent on an otherwise obligatory silence with respect to these or such concerns serves to solemnize (render graver, more pondersome) the fact that Socrates will indeed speak about them—at least in some measure. For it is with this (characteristically indirect) setup that the philosopher arrives at an archetypical statement—downright crucial for the further tradition: perhaps from this point of view it is not unreasonable [‘οὐκ ἄλογον’] to say that a man must not kill himself [‘μὴ (…) αὑτὸν ἀποκτιννύναι δεῖν’] until god sends some necessity [‘ἀνάγκην τινὰ’] upon him, such as has now come upon me. (“Phaedo” 216–217, 62C, §6)55

|| guard’. See Cicero (“de senec.” 84–85, XX.72–73), treated in subch. 10.2.2; and Epictetus (Disc. I–II. 66–69, I.9.12–20, spec. §16), in subch. 10.2.3. Dobbin logs: “the characteristically Stoic comparison of life to a term of military service under god was Socratic in inspiration. […] the idea of remaining at one’s post seems to be associated with the prohibition against suicide” (“Comment.” 127). Marcus Aurelius stresses: “Either thy life is here and thou art inured to it; or thou goest elsewhere and this with thine own will; thou diest and hast served out thy service. There is no other alternative. Take heart then” (277, X.22). Cf. M. Sommer (“Formierung” 699). 55 Aristotle has the same phrase (“ἀποκτιννύναι ἑαυτὸν”, NE 318, 1138a, V.xi.1). The above will be qualified again, later: it is requisite to keep the body as “pure” as possible—“freeing ourselves from the foolishness of the body [‘σώματος ἀφροσύνης’] and being pure [‘καθαροὶ’]”; but not entirely, “until God himself sets us free [‘ὁ θεὸς αὐτὸς ἀπολύσῃ ἡμᾶς’]” (Plato “Phaedo” 232–233, 67A, §11). Cf. Apelt: “der Körper sollte möglichst lange den Ansprüchen des Geistes standhalten, sollte aber eben nur dienen, nie herrschen” (“Phaidon” 136n.–137n.). See Rist, applying the above to “the account of” Zeno’s end (242–243). Apelt glosses: “Wenn hier im allgemeinen der Selbstmord als unzulässig bezeichnet wird, so […] sind [es] ausschließlich religiöse Gründe, die dafür maßgebend sind, worauf auch schon die Ausdrücke οὐκ ὅσιον und οὐ θεμιτόν hinweisen (61E, 62A). Auch ist wohl zu beachten, daß Platon mit den Worten ‘man darf sich nicht eher selbst umbringen, als bis die Gottheit die Notwendigkeit über uns verhängt’ der schlechthin ausnahmslosen Anwendung der Regel vorbeugt. Genau genommen bringt sich ja auch Sokrates selbst um. Platon hat in den Gesetzen (IX, 873C) sich des näheren über die ἀνάγκη ausgelassen, die einen Selbstmord rechtfertigt. Es ist dies entweder die Verhängung der Todesstrafe durch den Staat […] oder ein schmerzvoller und rettungsloser Zustand […] oder eine unvertilgbare und das Leben verleidende Schande. Die Notwendigkeit ist da also kein schlechthin wirkender Zwang: dann würde ja von Selbstmord überhaupt nicht die Rede sein können. […] Es ist […] kein objektiver, sondern ein subjektiver Zwang […]. M e i n e Gesinnung schreibt mir meine Handlungsweise vor, ich handle nach eigenem Entschluß, also frei” (“Phaidon” 135n.–136n.). Rist logs a persistent exegetical issue: “Socrates seems to refer to his own death as self-inflicted […]. The law at Athens specified that the condemned should administer the death penalty to himself by drinking hemlock. […] There seems […] to be a good cause for regarding the acts of Socrates and of all the others condemned under the same law as instances where the material act of self-killing cannot be termed immoral. Are we then to term it suicide? […] This […] raises the whole question of our use of the word suicide—which is generally condemnatory” (234). He lists “various ancient attitudes to the killing of the self” (234). By contrast, Dobbin—sans the requisite wariness, like others under the (latent) influence

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In typically deductive fashion, Plato’s textual economy has this declaration of dependence proceed from a general rule to the particular case at hand; and so it is said to “seem[…] sensible [‘εἰκός (…) φαίνεται’]” (“Phaedo” 216–217, 62C, §7). Yet Cebes still considers “strange [‘ἀτόπῳ’]” that “philosophers ought to be ready and willing to die [‘ῥᾳδίως ἂν ἐθέλειν ἀποθνῄσκειν’]” (“Phaedo” 216–217, 62D, §7). The question is elucidated in the further course of the exchange, especially by these decisive qualifications: “those who pursue philosophy aright study nothing but dying [‘ἀποθνῄσκειν’] and being dead [‘τεθνάναι’]” (“Phaedo” 222–223, 64A, §9); withal, “the true philosophers practise dying [‘ἀποθνῄσκειν μετελῶσι’], and death is less terrible to them than to any other men” (“Phaedo” 234–235, 67E, §12; see “τὸ μελέτημα αὐτὸ”, 67D).56 In non-Platonic words: they take advantage of the human capacity for perspectival contingency—discerning that even inevitabilities are virtually susceptible of being seen or taken otherwise (with philosophy qua decided cultivation of said potential).57 Thereafter, the dialog passes on to the aspect of the soul’s immortality.58 Such being no matter here, one might leave Plato at that—albeit not without accentuating his aforesaid use of an all-purpose term, the notoriously nebulous ‘anánke’, which may seem open to almost any construal.59 In a later work, the virtual policymaker is somewhat more specific indeed: || of Christian discourses (mayhap even unbeknownst to them)—feels the need to be apologetic about that exit strategy (with the, possibly unwitting, intent of absolving another): “It is true that Socrates’ death is presented in the Phaedo and in other ancient sources as a form of suicide, since he did not try to escape it […]. But he only accepted it as a consequence of his commitment to his duty in this life, the philosophical one. His life became meaningless when this role was denied him” (“Comment.” 127). Said construal might be taken to convey little else than a critic’s obvious uneasiness in facing the facts. In general, see Hirzel (96n.). 56 Cf. Seneca: “brevis aevi et huius incerti; quidquid facies, respice ad mortem” (Ep. 93–124. 318, CXIV.27). Montaigne: “Que Philosopher, c’est apprendre à mourir” (Essais I. 221, I.xx; plus 610n.–615n.)—with Cicero, citing Socrates: “Tota enim philosophorum vita […] commentatio mortis est” (Tusc. Disp. 86; cf. 87n.). See Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 270–271, 271n.); and subch. 9.1. 57 Cf. Blumenberg on the Epicurean “Unverzagtheit vor dem Unabwendbaren”: “Alles war Untergang, aber es gab Reservate, ihn heiter zu begehen” (Vollzählig. 268). 58 As a matter of course, this is key to Augustine’s reworking (de civ. Dei I–III. 98–99, I.xxii). 59 Concerning “ἀνάγκη”, “necessitudo”, cf. Hirzel (278, 278n.–279n.): “die Notwendigkeit […], die auch anderen ein Prachttor gewesen ist, durch das sie den Selbstmord wieder unter die zulässigen Handlungen der Menschen einführten” (278–279). After noting the Platonic reasons given (“rechtskräftige Verurteilung”, “unheilbare […] Leiden”, “unerträgliche Schmach”), he states: “Nur mit ein wenig anderen Worten wurde hier der motivierte Selbstmord […] gestattet, wie auf der Insel Keos oder später von den Stoikern” (279; cf. 82, 82n., 279n.). Hirzel also mentions “die […] auf einen Selbstmord bezügliche [‘Äußerung] des jüngeren Plinius Epist. I 12:

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Now he that slays [‘ἀποκτείνῃ’] the person who is, as men say [‘λεγόμενον’], nearest [‘οἰκειότατον’] and dearest [‘φίλτατον’] of all,—what penalty should he suffer? I mean the man that slays himself [‘ἑαυτὸν κτείνῃ’],—violently robbing himself of his Fate-given share of life [‘τὴν τῆς εἱμαρμένης βίᾳ ἀποστερῶν μοῖραν’], when this is not legally ordered by the State, and when he is not compelled to it by the occurrence of some intolerable and inevitable misfortune [‘τύχῃ ἀναγκασθείς’], nor by falling into some disgrace that is beyond remedy or endurance,—but merely inflicting upon himself this iniquitous penalty [‘ἑαυτῷ δίκην ἄδικον ἐπιθῇ’] owing to sloth [‘ἀγρίᾳ’] and unmanly cowardice [‘ἀνανδρίας δειλίᾳ’]. (Laws VII–XII. 265–267, 873C, IX)

Stoics of all colors are more than likely to have rejoiced at the mere mention of ‘heimarméne’—making the above a pivotal passage on this topic for the diachronic ramifications of said School in particular.60 Withal, the value judgments concluding Plato’s cited segment (acedia, ignavia) would have had to seem especially alien to adherents of a mindset notorious for its physical and intellectual discipline (including a rigorously regimented ethics).61 Throughout the tradition, said and affine aspects are taken up, varied— selectively, as suitable to the dogmatic or rhetorical needs at hand.62 In any case (counting contradictions), a vague anánke (necessitas) remains the legitimizing reference for sundry discursive ‘fillings’.63 As Seneca puts it—with his usual sense for inserting the ever next “sting in the tail” (Eden “Lit. Property” 23):

|| summa ratio quae sapientibus pro necessitate est” (279n.). Generally, Rist observes: “Socrates leaves one point obscure, and this point was at the centre of discussion of the ethics of suicide throughout classical antiquity and beyond, to appear again in the first book of Augustine’s City of God” (234). He notes “[t]he problems underlying Plato’s phraseology” (234n.; with Hirzel). 60 See Rist (235–237)—who (anachronistically) avers that “[w]hen we move to the Laws there is some strikingly Stoic phraseology” (235). He refers to Aristotle (at 236; with NE 164–167, 1116a, III.viii.6–9; 318–321, 1138a, V.xi.1–6; not least due to an apparent need for emendations, the phrase “παρὰ τὸν ὀρθὸν λόγον” will apper to be a later intercalation: 318, 1138a, V.xi.3, 318n.). 61 Cf. e.g. Epictetus: “It is difficulties that show what men [‘ἄνδρας’] are” (Disc. I–II. 148–149, I.24.1). “Will you [sc. philosophical ‘scout’] not go away again and observe more accurately, without this cowardice [‘δειλίας’]?” (Disc. I–II. 150–151, I.24.10). 62 In a way conducing to his own thesis, Augustine was enabled to use Plato even with respect to the Socratic case—whose “sole motive for seeking death” is said to have been “his greatness of soul” (de civ. Dei I–III. 99, I.xxii). As per the same passage, the former is taken to have “reached the conclusion that suicide [‘id’] should not be committed, nay more, should be forbidden” (de civ. Dei I–III. 99, I.xxii; like in the ensuing sample, the term “suicide” is not in the Latin). Accordingly, “it is obvious [‘manifestum est’] that suicide [‘hoc’] is unlawful for those who worship the one true God” (de civ. Dei I–III. 100–101, I.xxii)—crucially concluding the ch. “Whether suicide [‘mors voluntaria’] is ever a sign of greatness of mind [‘magnitudinem animi’]” (de civ. Dei I–III. 96–101, here: 96–97, I.xxii). Generally, see Rist (254); Hirzel (79–80). 63 Cf. Rist (246–247)—who also refers to “the habit, widespread in the time of Cicero and later,

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if you enjoy living with [‘convivere’] Greeks also, spend your time [‘versare’] with Socrates and with Zeno: the former will show you how to die [‘te docebit mori’] if it be necessary [‘si necesse erit’]; the latter how to die before it is necessary [‘antequam necesse erit’]. (Ep. 93–124. 202–203, CIV.21)64

10.2.2 Select Rationalizations of Suicide: Cicero’s Cato (With Horace) Non vident alia brevitate pluris aestimari, alia diuturnitate. —Cicero (De Fin. 266, III.xiv.47)65

As will be the case with himself (in court and writing), Cicero stylizes his ‘Catos’ (both Maior and Minor). Floating in the virtual networks of Greco-Roman culture, well-known facts and facets of Platonico-Stoic(izing) discourses serve the accomplished arch-orator as an expedient copia, by recourse to which a given ethopoiía may be rendered consistent, and (thus) plausible.66 The ensuing rendition is designed to explicitly tie in with pertinent passages in the Phaedo:

|| […] of using Plato’s Phaedo as a jumping-off point for theoretical discussions of suicide. Plato […] was used both as a justification for suicide and as a means of moderating what can only be described as a suicide cult” (233). As to anánke: “For while we are shut up within these frames of flesh we perform a sort of task imposed by necessity [‘necessitatis’]” (Cicero “de senec.” 88– 89, XXI.77). Cf. Seneca’s liberal use of the terms “natura”, “necessitas” in immediate proximity of one another (Ep. 66–92. 68–70, LXX.24). Blumenberg logs: “Diderot […] behandelt das Stichwort Conservation unter dem Aspekt der Moral. […] Das Gesetz der Erhaltung sei eines der fundamentalen Naturgesetze […]. Ins Moralische transponiert, bedeutet das Naturgesetz, daß jeder seine Existenz so lange wie möglich zu erhalten habe” (“Selbsterhaltung” 154). 64 Cf. Rist (247, 247n.). With respect to Plato’s agent, Niehues-Pröbsting signals an equation of consistency and necessity: “der Tod kann, wie der Tod des Sokrates, notwendig sein, weil seine Vermeidung nicht anders als durch Preisgabe der eigenen Lebenskonsequenz möglich wäre. Die Preisgabe der ‘Übereinstimmung mit sich selbst’ ist für Sokrates schlimmer als der Tod” (Einsicht 106). If not for any other, it seems to be precisely for this ‘reason’ that ‘anánke’ tends to signify ‘whatever the persona resp. concerned will’ (given a contingency of selves). 65 “They fail to see that some things are rendered more valuable by brevity as others by prolongation” (De Fin. 267, III.xiv.47). 66 See Rist: “It is usually impossible to be sure whose doctrines Cicero is presenting unless he mentions his sources by name; […] the Tusculans are by no means of entirely Stoic inspiration. The influence of Platonism is considerable” (244). At times, the former will be the case even if he does. Cf. Blumenberg’s related comments on “Anthropozentrik […], die nicht von Plato herkommen kann, sondern in dem durch stoische Einflüsse verformten ‘Platonismus’ Ciceros vorgefunden wurde” (GKW I. 241); and on a “Komplex von theoretischer Skepsis und stoischer Praxis […] den Cicero für seine Rezeption anbietet” (GKW I. 207); plus a “skeptisch-stoische[…]

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Cato departed from life [‘abiit e vita’] with a feeling of joy in having found a reason for death [‘causam moriendi’]; for the God who is master within us forbids our departure [‘demigrare’] without his permission; but when God Himself has given a valid reason [‘causam iustam’] as He did in the past to Socrates, and in our day to Cato, and often to many others [‘saepe multis’], then of a surety your true wise man will joyfully pass [‘excesserit’] forthwith from the darkness here into the light beyond. All the same he will not break the bonds of his prison-house—the laws forbid it—but as if in obedience to a magistrate or some lawful authority, he will pass out at the summons and release of God [‘a deo evocatus atque emissus exierit’]. For the whole life of the philosopher, as the wise man says, is a preparation for death [‘Tota (…) philosophorum vita (…) commentatio mortis est’]. (Tusc. Disp. 86–87, I.xxx.74)67

Amid a veritable swell of various viatorial euphemisms (“abiit”, “demigrare”, “excesserit”, “emissus”, “exierit”), a brief phrase can pass virtually unnoticed— while its implications open the floodgates on this highly problematic matter.68 Not only is Cicero affirming the practice of suicide for such exceptions as would probably have stood to reason anyway (Socrates, Cato); but he vaguely refers to “many” additional—and not infrequent (“saepe”)—cases.69 Then again, what constitutes a ‘just cause’ will be open to a variety of interpretations (here, in general). The orator gives a specimen thereof, precisely by paralleling the Greek and Roman paradigms par excellence—despite the fact that their ‘reasons’ differed considerably and indeed. In the eidolopoiíai of the “Somnium Scipionis” (“De Re Pub.” 260–283, VI.ix–xxvi), Cicero Platonizes comparably.70 Having oneirically spoken with his defunct grandfather by adoption, Scipio Maior—declaring ‘the deathfulness of what is else called life’ (“vestra vero, quae dicitur, vita mors est”, “De Re Pub.” 266, VI.xiv)—the younger man of the same name dreams a meeting with his biological father (also deceased).71 Given said intelligence, he credibly inquires:

|| Funktionseinheit bei Cicero”—with spec. regard to ‘epoché’ (“Epochenschwelle” 118; plus Haverkamp “Technik” 451; Halbzeug 25; 177). Cf. also Blumenberg (“Augustins Anteil” 56). 67 The glosses refer to Plato (Tusc. Disp. 86n.–87n.). See Rist (244–245). Generally as to the above and Cato, cf. Pohlenz (Stoa 352–355; spec. 355; 383n.). Seneca’s assessment: “Cato qua exeat habet; una manu latam libertati viam faciet” (“De Prov.” 12, II.10). Agency and freedom are accentuated; cf. subchs. 10.2.4–5, herein. 68 From the context treated below: “ea vita via est in caelum” (“De Re Pub.” 268, VI.xvi.16). 69 See Rist’s remarks concerning Seneca’s recourse to said exemplars (246). 70 Cf. Rist (245). On the praxis of attributing words to the dead, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 31, 31n.–32n.; 53n.; 86n.–87n.; 89n.; 142n.–143n.; 156n.; 158; 165–166, 165n.–167n.; passim). 71 “that life of yours, which men so call, is really death” (“De Re Pub.” 267, VI.xiv). This ties in with the aforequoted passage—followed by the ensuing assertion: “haec quidem vita mors est” (Tusc. Disp. 88, I.xxxi.75). Cf. Seneca’s refunctionalization (Ep. 66–92. 178–179, LXXVII.18).

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[‘]since that is life [sc. in the hereafter], as I learn from Africanus [Scipio Maior], why should I [Scipio Minor] remain longer on earth [‘quid moror in terris’]? Why not hasten thither to you?’ ‘Not so’, he [his father, Æmilius Paulus] replied, ‘for unless that God, whose temple is everything that you see, has freed you from the prison of the body [‘istis te corporis custodiis liberaverit’], you cannot gain entrance there. For man was given life that he might inhabit that sphere called Earth […]. Wherefore you, Publius [Scipio Minor], and all good men, must leave that soul [‘animus’] in the custody of the body, and must not abandon human life except at the behest [‘nec iniussu (…) ex hominum vita migrandum est’] of him by whom it was given you, lest you appear to have shirked [‘defugisse’] the duty imposed [‘munus adsignatum’] upon man by God. (“De Re Pub.” 266–269, VI.xv.15)72

Considering the ethos of these interlocutors, the metaphoricity concluding the cited passage will seem particularly pertinent—above and beyond the Socratic, and especially Stoic, proclivities for martial image fields.73 Moreover, the inverting redescription of ‘terrestrial’ life (seeing, but not yet taking, it else), as well as the artful setting overall—exploring the rhetorical possibilities of virtually raising the dead and putting words in their mouths— will be alignable in metapoetical respects. For these conceivabilities presuppose perspectival contingency: everything always also otherwise, or not at all. It may stand to reason that noetic, and even articulated experiments need not count as problematic per se—else philosophy itself were a suspicious (if not seditious) affair.74 Questionable indeed is the matter of whether all its (selfstyled) practitioners have a functional brain-blood barrier (so to say). As a matter of course, there would be various ways for a world-weary (or Platonically infected) legionnaire to quit (t)his life—not necessarily suicide outright.75 Yet the above does feature rationalizations from the general set of || 72 The dreamer is Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus Africanus Minor; his biological father, Lucius Aemilius Paulus Macedonicus; the chief interlocutor the former’s grandfather by adoption, Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus Maior. See the glosses (“De Re Pub.” 31, I.ix.14, with 30n.; 261n.; and intratextual indicators: 265, VI.xi.11; 267, VI.xiv.14; plus Republic. Laws 529n.; 531n.; Falconer 5–6). As it has come down to the present, Cicero’s Platonico-rationalistic context here refers to the ‘spiritual’ mind or intellect (“animus”)—not to a ‘soul’ (‘anima’). Whether innocently or mala fide, Christianizing slants in trans. of certain (Ancient, pagan) texts are as common as misleading. Generally, cf. Mayfield (Artful 118, 118n.; 156n.). 73 On the latter, see A. U. Sommer (passim; spec. “der Stoizismus […] mit seiner unleugbaren Neigung zur Härte”, 69). As to Early Modern variants, he observes: “Die Aggressivität des Menschen wird […] weder geleugnet noch wegrationalisiert, sondern funktionalisiert” (68). 74 That said conviction has been—hence might be—plausible to (overly) certain majorities seems to be sufficiently demonstrated by the case of Socrates (to say nothing of others). 75 For a relatable case, see subch. 11.3.4. Where recorded in the particular—rather than as pertaining to an (un)quantifiable number of casualties—the factum brutum of a soldier’s death on the field is usually susceptible of various readings (beyond immediate martial expediency).

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issues, which may reappear in recycled forms, differing contexts; to say naught of the fact that the alleged ‘signal’ for ‘release’ seems as elusive as in said cases. From a Stoic(izing) standpoint (here put into the mouth of Cicero’s dia- and monologic ‘Cato’), “practical deliberations [‘cogitationes’]”—as involve whether to ‘remain in, or vacate life’ (“et excessum e vita et in vita mansionem”)— pertain to “neutral things [‘media’]” (De Fin. 278–279, III.xviii.60, with §59).76 Death as such is a matter of physical course.77 The question of whether the latter might be aided or abetted will be decided by recourse to the quality of life: || Unlikely to be the rule, suicidal tendencies cannot always be excluded categorically; spec. since (secondary) motives may vary, multiply—in the reception, contingent upon the resp. culture, discourse. Cf. Kant (“Anthropologie” 591, B215, A216, §74); as well as Blumenberg, for particularly problematic cases (Selbstverständnis [1997] 84). Hardly is it incidental—although (in a praeteritio) Cicero says just this—that the arch-orator mentions Roman heroes, who had died for the Republic: L. J. Brutus, above all; here spec. “the two Decii who rode full speed to a voluntary death [‘ad voluntariam mortem’]”; “Marcus Atilius Regulus, who set out from home to undergo torture and keep the faith pledged to his foe; […] the two Scipios, who with their bodies sought to stay the Punic march”, etc. (“de senec.” 86–87, XX.75). Cf. Seneca: “Good men lose their sons; why not, since sometimes they even slay them? They are sent into exile; why not, since sometimes they voluntarily leave their native land, never to return? They are slain; why not, since sometimes they voluntarily lay hand upon themselves [‘ipsi sibi manus afferant’]? Why do they suffer certain hardships? It is that they may teach others to endure them; they were born to be a pattern [‘nati sunt in exemplar’]” (“De Prov.” 42–43, VI.2–3). The glosses refer to “Lucius Junius Brutus”, “Manlius Torquatus” for the initial instances; to “Cato” as “the favourite exemplar” for suicide (“De Prov.” 42n.). Even so, reading the above as follows does not seem excluded in all cases: ‘they might (being great); you (not being so) need not’. 76 According to the work’s framework (see spec. the onsets of book III and IV, De Fin. 222–233, III.ii–iv.7–16; with 300–303, IV.i.1–2), this and the next passages on Stoicism are presented by ‘Cato (Minor)’, whose interlocutor (at first, then auditor) is ‘Cicero’. The extratextual author’s ethopoiía of the former is (primarily) effected by recourse to the words placed in his mouth with unobtrusive care. Cf. Rackham (“Intro. [Ends]” xvi); Rist (240, 240n.). 77 The implicative force of metaphors is observable in these samples: “whatever befalls in accordance with Nature [‘secundum naturam’] should be accounted good; […] when old men die it is as if a fire had gone out [‘exstinguitur’] without the use of force [‘nulla adhibita vi’] and of its own accord [‘cum sua sponte’], after the fuel had been consumed” (“de senec.” 82–83, XIX.71). Similar processes are utilized in Seneca (with another euphemism added): “an old man’s soul is on his very lips, and […] only a little force [‘nec magna vi’] is necessary to disengage it from the body. A fire which has seized upon a substance that sustains it needs water to quench [‘extinguendus’] it, or, sometimes, the destruction of the building itself; but the fire which lacks sustaining fuel dies away of its own accord [‘sua sponte subsidit’]” (Ep. 1– 65. 218–221, XXX.14). Cf. Shakespeare: “Let me not live […] / After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff / Of younger spirits” (AW 20, I.ii.58–60; indicated by Haines at Marcus Aurelius 45n.). For a blend of natural metaphors, see Ovid’s take on the Herculean quasi suicide (i.e. of his mortal part): “whatever the flames could destroy, Mulciber [sc. Vulcan’s fire] had now consumed, and

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When a man’s circumstances contain a preponderance of things in accordance with nature [‘secundum naturam’], it is appropriate for him to remain alive [‘officium est in vita manere’]; when he possesses or sees in prospect a majority of the contrary things [‘plura contraria’], it is appropriate [‘officium est’] for him to depart from life [‘e vita excedere’]. (De Fin. 278–279, III.xviii.60)78

The Latin phrase given initially aligns with the Greek ‘katà phýsin’—of special significance or connotations in Stoic discourses.79 Since a capacity for discretion may tend to vary considerably, said formula is ultimately as problematic as ‘anánke’—and open to construals of widely differing dyes; mutatis mutandis, the same applies to the relativity of Cicero’s “plura”.80 Nor is this an isolated or incidental quantifier. The ensuing offers as much, if not more scope for a flexible reading:

|| no shape [‘effigies’] of Hercules that could be recognized remained, nor was there anything left which his mother gave [‘ab imagine ductum matris’]. He kept traces only of his father; and as a serpent, its old age sloughed off with its skin [‘utque novus serpens posita cum pelle senecta’], revels in fresh life [‘luxuriare solet’], and shines resplendent [‘nitere’] in its bright new scales; so when the Tirynthian [sc. Hercules] put off his mortal frame, he gained new vigour in his better part”, etc. (Metamorph. IX–XV. 20–23, IX.262–269; with 459n., 472n., 496n.). Perchance, Shakespeare is taking up Ovid in Hamlet’s notable expression: “shuffled off this mortal coil” (Ham [3rd] 315, 3.1.66; the gloss has: “as a snake”, 315n.). 78 Cf. “the most desirable end of life is that which comes while the mind is clear [‘cum integra mente’] and the faculties are unimpaired, when Nature herself takes apart [‘dissolvit’] the work which she has put together. […] Nature is the agent best fitted to give dissolution to […] man” (“de senec.” 84–85, XX.72). Primacy is ‘naturally’ given to the way of all flesh. Superlatives entail degrees, hence other possibilities. A potentially valid inference: ‘should the mind not be clear, such is not desirable’—hinting a use of preventive finalizing measures. Marcus Aurelius spells it out: “We ought not to think only upon the fact that our life each day is waning away, what is left of it being ever less, but this also should be a subject for thought, that even if life be prolonged, yet is it uncertain whether the mind will remain equally fitted in the future […]. For if a man has entered upon his dotage, there will still be his the power of breathing, and digestion […]; but the full use of himself [‘τὸ δὲ ἑαυτῷ χρῆσθαι’] […], and a clear judgment on the question whether it is time for him to end his own life […]—these are already flickering out in him. It needs, then, that we should press onwards” (44–45, III.1; with 44n.–45n.). 79 Cf. Pohlenz (spec. “wenn […] ein Weiterleben nicht mehr ‘naturgemäß’ wäre”; Stoa 146– 147); Rackham (De Fin. xxiv–xxvi); Blumenberg (“Selbsterhaltung” 161–164; 201n.); NiehuesPröbsting (Die antike Phil. 192); with respect to Epictetus, Vogel (50–51). For a Latin variant, cf. e.g. “ut naturae consentiat” (Cicero De Fin. 264, III.xiv.45). On style, see Williamson (130–131). 80 Cf. “saepe mortem cogentibus causis quam natura reformidat voluntas amplectitur” (Boethius “Phil. Consolat.” 292, III.xi.prose.92–93). For ‘natural’ reasons, what is considered ‘cogent’ will tend to differ significantly.

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very often [‘saepe’] it is appropriate [‘officium est’] for the Wise Man to abandon life [‘desciscere a vita’] at a moment when he is enjoying supreme happiness, if an opportunity offers for making a timely exit [‘si id opportune facere possit’]. For the Stoic view is that happiness [‘beate vivere’], which means life in harmony with nature [‘convenienter naturae vivere’], is a matter of seizing the right moment [‘opportunitatis’]. So that Wisdom her very self upon occasion [‘si usus sit’] bids the Wise Man to leave her [‘relinquat’]. (De Fin. 280–281, III.xviii.61)81

Not only is what counts as a ‘kairós’ contingent upon accompanying conditions; it is particularly susceptible of being accommodated ad votum.82 By implication, said sage may well seem to have turned into an orator experienced in selfpersuasion as a viable form of adapting to the inevitable—a facility that will ultimately prove expedient with respect to ‘finding’ the right time for departure. By virtue of ‘perfecting’ the determined course of phýsis, rationalizations end up seeming natural. Matters may be perceived and taken, even made to be otherwise: precisely a discourse that—at least officially—has little (if any) use for contingency is enabled thereby, and depends thereon. If the above seemed to permit much freedom of construal, the following— now put into the mouth of ‘Cato Maior’, conversing with ‘Scipio Minor’ and ‘Laelius’—leaves even more leeway: if we are not going to be immortal […], it is desirable [‘optabile est’] for a man to be blotted out at his proper time [‘exstingui homini suo tempore’]. For as Nature has marked the bounds of everything, so she has marked the bounds of life. […] Old age is the final scene [‘peractio’] […] in life’s drama [‘fabulae’], from which we ought to escape [‘fugere debemus’] when it grows wearisome [‘defetigationem’] and, certainly, when we have had our fill [‘satietate’]. (“de senec.” 96–99, XXIII.85)83

|| 81 There is a density of remarks on human brevity: “mortem omni aetati esse communem […] quid est in hominis natura diu? […] Quod cuique temporis ad vivendum datur, eo debet esse contentus” (“de senec.” 80, XIX.68–69). 82 For the affinity of these terms, cf. “opportunitas (sic enim appellemus εὐκαιρίαν)” (De Fin. 264, III.xiv.45). On the rhetorical nexus, see Trimpi/Blumberg (341). 83 A short segment functioning as a ‘vale’ ensues. For rhetorical ‘safekeeping’, the Platonic prohibition had been cited before: “Hence it follows that old men ought neither to cling too fondly to their little remnant of life [‘illud breve vitae’], nor give it up without a cause [‘nec sine causa deserendum sit’]. Pythagoras bids us stand like faithful sentries and not [‘vetat’] quit [‘decedere’] our post [‘de praesidio et statione vitae’] until God, our Captain, gives the word” (“de senec.” 84–85, XX.72–73; with 84n.; Plato “Phaedo” 215, 61E, §6, referring to Philolaus; “a Pythagorean”, as per D. Laertius Lives II. 399, VIII.84). Even so, a certain leeway is already implied in the phrase “nec sine causa” (cf. “necessitatis”, “de senec.” 88, XXI.77). Expressly, the field of application is not senectitude only: ““this should be thought on from our youth up [‘hoc meditatum ab adulescentia debet esse’], so that we may be indifferent to death [‘mortem

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The speaker’s authoritative ethos, plus vivid and plausible—natural (seasonal), artificial (dramatic)—metaphors will render said peroratio particularly potent.84 This effectuality of elocutio and ornatus is likely to color the content also. Consequently, the concluding turn—which counts ‘fatigue’ and ‘satiety’ among the reasonable grounds for departure (or rather, flight)—cannot but acquire an air of general practicality, not to say viability.85 While the context speaks of grandevity specifically, it may not be excluded that the temporal framework (or else, this specific factor of time) is neglected in the reception; respectively omitted in refunctionalizations—especially since Cicero’s ‘Cato’ is expressly generalizing as regards human transience, natural processes, and senescence.86 In other words, even taedium may seem to have become an effective reason for showing oneself out.87

|| ut neglegamus’], and without this thought no one can be in a tranquil state of mind [‘tranquilo animo’]. For it is certain that we must die [‘Moriendum enim certe est’], and, for aught we know, this very day [‘et incertum an hoc ipso die’]” (“de senec.” 84–87, XX.74). This extended relevance, plus the leeway for rationalization, is driven home in the abovecited peroratio. 84 Cf. “The actor [‘histrioni’], to please his audience, need not appear in every act to the very end [‘peragenda fabula’]; it is enough if he is approved in the parts in which he plays [‘modo in quocunque fuerit actu probetur’]; and so it is not necessary for the wise man to stay on this mortal stage to the last fall of the curtain [‘ad ‘plaudite’]. For even if the allotted space of life be short, it is long enough in which to live honourably and well [‘breve enim tempus aetatis satis longum est ad bene honesteque vivendum’]” (“de senec.” 81–83, XIX.70). Hence the ‘allotment’ might be shortened by one’s own (self-inflicted) theatrical ‘exit’. See this peroratio: “It is with life as it is with a play [‘Quomodo fabula, sic vita’],—it matters not how long the action is spun out, but how good the acting is [‘acta sit’]. It makes no difference at what point you stop. Stop whenever you choose [‘voles’]; only see to it that the closing period is well turned” (Seneca Ep. 66–92. 180–181, LXXVII.20). The voluntaristic element is pronounced; cf. subch. 10.2.4, herein. 85 See Seneca, who (in this spec. context) inveighs against “libido moriendi”; “ad moriendum inconsulta animi inclinatio” (Ep. 1–65. 180, XXIV.25; with “satietas”, “fastidium”, XXIV.26). Cf. and contrast Rist’s excessive devaluation of the Imperial writer’s views (249–252). Generally as to the former, see Fothergill-Payne (Seneca 90; 142). 86 Cf. Seneca: “old age has no certain term, and there is good cause for an old man living so long as [‘quoad’] he can fulfil and support his proper duties [‘munus offici’] and hold death of no account [‘mortemque contemnere’]” (“de senec.” 82–83, XX.72). An accent on utility may seem to leave room for rationalizing the ‘open door’. On the whole: “Tu nescis unum esse ex vitae officiis et mori?” (Ep. 66–92. 180, LXXVII.19). Similarly—as well as likewise—Marcus Aurelius: “Make no difference in doing thy duty [‘τὸ πρέπον ποιεῖς’] whether thou art shivering or warm, drowsy or sleep-satisfied, defamed or extolled, dying or anything else. For the act of dying too is one of the acts of life. So it is enough in this also to get the work in hand done well [‘τὸ παρὸν εὖ θέσθαι’]” (130–131, VI.2; with 131n.). 87 Seasonal metaphors yield an impression of natural inevitability; so tend to render plausible their context of application, as well: “Satiety of all pursuits causes satiety of life. […] when […]

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While Augustine could never rid himself of Cicero’s rhetoric entirely, he had to object on discursive grounds: “a mind might better be called greater that can endure [‘ferre’, sc. ‘bear’] instead of fleeing [‘fugere’] from a distressful life” (de civ. Dei I–III. 96–97, I.xxii). As a matter of course, the Church Father is unequivocally against suicide.88 With respect to the Catonic, he applies his customary technique of tying in with the Roman tradition against itself—here, by promoting the example of Marcus Atilius Regulus, interpreted as the pagan version of ‘Job’ in Scripture (de civ. Dei I–III. 100–103, I.xxiii–xxiv).89 Even venerable models are not beyond being replaced; all conventions are contingent.

|| man has his fill of life [‘satietas vitae’] and the time is ripe [‘tempus maturum’] for him to go” (“de senec.” 86–89, XX.76). Regarding the relation of “satietas” to “taedium”, see Hirzel (82n.). Nietzsche logs: “ὑπ’ ἀθυμίας. In dieser Stimmung verfielen die Alten leicht auf den Selbstmord: ein eigentlicher Grund dazu ist oft nicht einmal da, nur ist das Leben reizlos geworden: das gewöhnliche Mittel ist dann Enthaltung von Nahrung” (“griech. Litt.” 195, III.11). 88 As to suicide from a Christian angle, see Augustine (de civ. Dei I–III. 76–117, I.xvii–xxvii). Cases range from Judas (de civ. Dei I–III. 76–79, I.xvii), via Lucretia (de civ. Dei I–III. 82–91, I.xix), to Cato (de civ. Dei I–III. 100–103, I.xxiii); the latter closes the section “Whether one should commit suicide to avoid sinning” (de civ. Dei I–III. 112–117, I.xxvii). A précis of crucial assertions along Augustine’s argumentative way may seem utile. “That there is no authority that allows Christians in any case [‘in qualibet causa’] the right to die of their own will [‘voluntariae’]” (de civ. Dei I–III. 90–91, I.xx). Counting Socrates, Plato is referred to as having “reached the conclusion that suicide should not be committed, nay more, should be forbidden” (de civ. Dei I–III. 99, I.xxii); while “it is obvious [‘manifestum est’] that suicide is unlawful for those who worship the one true God” (de civ. Dei I–III. 100–101, I.xxii). The latter ends the segment entitled “Whether suicide [‘mors voluntaria’] is ever a sign of greatness of mind [‘magnitudinem animi’]” (de civ. Dei I–III. 96–101, here: 96–97, I.xxii). Inter alia, there is this significative section: “That a sin should not be avoided [‘declinari’] by a sin” (de civ. Dei I–III. 106–107, I.xxv). Lest any mistake be made, Augustine stresses: “This we say, this we declare, this we by all means [‘modis omnibus’] endorse: that no man ought to inflict on himself a voluntary death [‘neminem spontaneam mortem sibi inferre debere’], thinking to escape temporary ills [‘velut fugiendo molestias temporales’], lest he find himself among ills that are unending [‘ne incidat in perpetuas’]” (de civ. Dei I–III. 112–113, I.xxvi). The conclusive segment on the topic—“Whether one should commit suicide to avoid sinning” (de civ. Dei I–III. 112–117; here: 113, I.xxvii)—ends with this assertion: “it is wicked [‘nefas’], surely, to kill oneself [‘se occidere’]”, there being no “legitimate reason [‘causa iusta’] for committing suicide” (de civ. Dei I–III. 116–117, I.xxvii). As to Late and post-Antiquity, see Hirzel’s remark: “So sehen wir […] in der Verdammung des Selbstmordes die Moralphilosophie mit der Kirche wetteifern” (75). 89 “On the contrary, I shall prefer to Marcus Cato an example taken from their books [‘ex litteris eorum’], that same Marcus Regulus” (de civ. Dei I–III. 102–103, I.xxiv). As per Augustine’s exegesis, the latter “gave it as his judgement that suicide is a great crime [‘magnum celus esse’]” (de civ. Dei I–III. 103–104, I.xxiv). Cf. the preceding and longer account

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Before moving on to Epictetus in the next section (10.2.3), a vivid Horatian exemplar—frequently paralleled with Cato—might be mentioned in a brief excursus. Not without reason, the poetic figuration in question tends to be associated with the Stoic sage more generally—as Seneca’s refunctionalization may signal, praising “the unflinching steadiness of a hero who did not totter when the whole state was in ruins” (Ep. 93–124. 103, XCV.71).90 Continuously floating in the West’s cultural networks, it was along such lines that the striking image had a considerable reception throughout the tradition until Blumenberg—including even Husserl (despite his quasi Cartesian abstinence from most historical sources).91 While indubitably induced by (his) particularly dire circumstances, the arch-Phenomenologist’s recourse may well be described as another mode of free variation. In so doing, he did inscribe himself into a time-honored continuum after all.92

|| on Regulus (de civ. Dei I–III. 68–75, I.xv; 68n.). For a Baroque uptake, as well as Christian refunctionalization in Calderón, see Küpper (Diskurs-Renovatio 335n.; Discursive 326n.). 90 This explicitly refers to ‘Cato’s freedom’ (“liber”): “invictam constantiam viri inter publicas ruinas non labantis” (Ep. 93–124. 102, XCV.71). Cf. also the passage discussed in what follows above. The (ostentatious) nexus with Horace is noted by Asper/Luft (“Consolatio” 371n.). 91 See Asper/Luft: “Husserl scheint durch sein Verhalten, das ungerührte Weiterdenken angesichts der Katastrophe, ein aktualisierendes Beispiel für den stoischen Weisen zu bieten” (“Heilsmächte” 30). A later version continues the sentence thus—“ein Beispiel dieses Bildes des stoischen Weisen zu bieten. Mit dem nur für seine Augen bestimmten, hastig kopfstehend notierten, aus dem Gedächtnis flüchtig rekonstruierten Doppelvers attestiert er sich selbst die von Horaz beschriebene Unerschütterlichkeit” (“Consolatio” 370–371). As to the “Situation, in der Husserl selbst in Deutschland zum Schweigen verurteilt […] worden war”, Blumenberg stresses “das große, ja großartige Selbstbewußtsein des greisen Husserl […]. Dem ImmerFertigen setzte er das Immer-Anfangende des philosophischen Denkens entgegen, das allein einen neuen Lebenswillen fassen kann, und widersetzt sich einer Welt […] mit dem Aufruf zum Sich-Treubleiben” (Lebenswelt 212–213); “[‘es’] bleibt […] die Größe des einsamen, akademisch ausgesperrten, um das Wort gebrachten greisen Husserl, den Entschluß zur Theorie als den Initialakt der europäischen Menschlichkeit und als Korrektiv ihrer schrecklichsten Deviation festzuhalten […][.] Lübbe hat als Index dieses Philosophierens, zumal des Spätwerks, den Rationalismus des theoretischen Interesses für das, was ohne Interesse ist, bezeichnet: Das Daseinsproblem eines Gelehrten, dem im Alter verboten wurde, die Stätte seines Forschens und Lehrens zu betreten, schlägt nirgends durch, und noch das amtliche Schreiben, auf dem dieses Verbot mitgeteilt war, hat Husserl auf der Rückseite mit philosophischen Notizen bedeckt. Das ist ein Fall des ‘Weitermachens’, dessen Würde der des Satzes ‘Noli turbare circulos meos’ nicht nachsteht” (Legitimität 270–271). Generally, cf. Blumenberg (Lebensthemen 135; Beschreibung 444; Paradigmen [1998] 191–192); as well as subch. 10.4, herein. 92 See Asper/Luft on the resp. ms.—featuring “ein[en] kopfstehende[n] lateinische[n] Satz […] fortem ac temerem philosophiae virum impavidum ferient ruinae. / Husserl hat den ersten Vers abgewandelt und ihn […] mit dem letzten dieser Passage kombiniert” (“Consolatio” 363; cf.

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Whereas the Augustan poet does not mention the respective School in his notable ode, its depiction of ‘impavid virility’ has considerable affinities with prevalent notions of what might constitute a heroic Stoic.93 Frequently severed from their immediate source context already in Antiquity, the aforesaid will hold good for these celebrated verses in particular: si fractus illabatur orbis, / impavidum ferient ruinae. If the firmament were to split and crash down upon him, he will still be unafraid when hit by the wreckage. (“Odes” 146–147, III.3.7–8)

The “he” is qualified as “Iustum et tenacem propositi virum” (“Odes” 146, III.3.1).94 Said man’s ethos is marked by constancy, perseverance—reacting to an utterly entropic environment.95 The segment is strikingly structured qua faceoff between a (prospectively) hostile outside and a freestanding core—determined to bear the brunt of come what externals may. These will include natural

|| “Heilsmächte” 27). “Auf Horaz kommt er im Frühjahr 1933 offensichtlich unter dem Druck der äußeren Verhältnisse zurück. Husserl zitiert offenbar aus dem Gedächtnis. Das belegt das unverständliche temerem […][;] daß […] [er] tenacem nicht ersetzen wollte, beweist der beibehaltene Objektsgenitiv philosophiae” (“Consolatio” 365); “[er] ersetzt weiterhin, ganz sicher bewußt, iustum durch fortem und propositi durch philosophiae. […] Das eigentliche propositum des Tapferen ist bei Husserl die Philosophie, nicht die horazische Gerechtigkeit” (“Consolatio” 366); “[er] ersetzt bei seinem Zitat aus dem Gedächtnis fortem gegen iustum und philosophiae gegen propositi, eventuell versucht er das Versmaß beizubehalten. […] Temerem dagegen muß man wohl als mißglückte Erinnerung an tenacem behandeln” (“Heilsmächte” 28; with 37n.). Asper/Luft describe “die Funktionsweise dieser selbstaffirmierenden Handlung bei Husserl” qua “‘illokutionäre[n] Schreibakt’ […]: Dem Appell, als der der zitierte Prätext empfunden wird, wird in einer zirkulären Struktur bereits durch das Niederschreiben dieses Verses entsprochen” (“Consolatio” 371); it is ‘performative’ (“Heilsmächte” 30). They refer to Austin/Searle (“Consolatio” 371n.; “Heilsmächte” 30); to Epictetus incidentally (“Consolatio” 370, 371n.; “Heilsmächte” 38n.–39n.); to “Seneca, Ep. mor. 66,21; 79,10; 95,71 (mit auffälligen wörtlichen Parallelen zu Horaz)” (“Consolatio” 371n.). Asper/Luft suppose that Husserl did not know the Augustan implications of the Horatian source (see “Consolatio” 371; “Heilsmächte” 30). Needless to say, the dictum at issue had long been detached from its context; was floating in the virtual networks of the respublica litteraria. A strictly historico-philological approach will require qualification along said lines. Not to mention the fact that Husserl’s modus philosophandi is hardly ‘contextual’ on the whole (cf. Blumenberg Beschreibung 162). 93 Using Lotman’s term mutatis mutandis (see 151, 151n.), one may say that the reception turns Horace’s ‘vir impavidus’ into something like a literary ‘source type’ of the Stoic par excellence. 94 Rudd trans. “[t]he man of integrity[,] who holds fast to his purpose” (“Odes” 147, III.3.1). 95 A. U. Sommer formulates a basic Stoic tenet as follows: “Constantia immunisiert […] gegen Kontingenz” (79). Cf. Blumenberg (Beschreibung 890); M. Sommer (“Formierung” 699; 702).

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contingencies (“orbis”) as much as targeted attacks by particulars or masses.96 Suicide is neither mentioned, nor consequent.97 In the reception, this changes all but inevitably, once Horace’s generic ethopoiía is applied to a particular(ly notable) case. Ostentatiously tying in with the above, Seneca’s ensuing rendition extols the Roman Stoic kat’ exochén as a brave man matched against ill-fortune [‘vir fortis cum fortuna mala compositus’ […][:] the spectacle of Cato, after his cause had already been shattered more than once, nevertheless standing erect amid the ruins of the commonwealth [‘iam partibus non semel fractis stantem nihilo minus inter ruinas publicas rectum’]. (“De Prov.” 10–11, II.9)98

Employing the rhetorical device of sermocinatio effectually, the Ancient essayist places these words into the mouth of the leading actor in (t)his tragedy: “yet Cato has a way of escape [‘qua exeat habet’]; with one single hand he will open a wide path to freedom [‘latam libertati viam’]” (“De Prov.” 12–13, II.10).99 By association, the floating image of the Horatian hero has acquired—at least as a potential implication—the additional option of suicide, above and beyond the source context’s accent on fortitudinous endurance. The dramatic aspect (or theatricality) is not unlikely to have conduced thereto.100

|| 96 See the entire first section of this Ode—rising to its rhetorical climax: “Iustum et tenacem propositi virum / non civium ardor prava iubentium, / non vultus instantis tyranni / mente quatit solida neque Auster, / dux inquieti turbidus Hadriae, / nec fulminantis magna manus Iovis: / si fractus illabatur orbis, / impavidum ferient ruinae” (“Odes” 146, III.3.1–8). Such— “this quality [‘hac arte’]” (“Odes” 146–147, III.3.9)—is ascribed to “Pollux”, “Hercules” (“Odes” 146, III.3.9); ultimately, with a view to “Augustus” (“Odes” 146, III.3.11). 97 It may be hinted at via the Heraclean end (sc. of his fleshly part): “hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules / enisus arcis attigit igneas” (“Odes” 146, III.3.9–10). For the resp. myth—fighting fire with the same—see Ovid (Metamorph. IX–XV. 16–17, IX.201–202, plus 18–23, IX.229–272). 98 Seneca has “ut spectet”; sc. “Iuppiter”—by implication, the event is on display for the gods. Horace also mentions said deity expressly; and precisely as having no power over the steadfast one: “non […] quatit […] fulminantis magna manus Iovis” (“Odes” 146, III.3.3–4, III.3.6). On spectacle, outperformance, see Plutarch—stating that one “must admire the preparation of the poison and its place of custody, […] admire […] the use he [sc. Demosthenes] made of it”; “since the god would not afford him asylum, he took refuge at a greater altar […], made his escape from arms and mercenaries, and laughed to scorn the cruelty of Antipater” (“Demosthenes and Cicero” 221, §888, V). Cf. the extended account of the scene (“Demosthenes” 72–75, §859–860, XXIX.3–5, XXX.1); in nuce: “But I […] will depart […] while I am still alive”—“As for the poison, […] he took it from the pen” (“Demosthenes” 75, §859–860, XXIX.5, XXX.1). 99 The protagonist is (re)presented as speaking to himself (in the third person); envisioned as addressing his ‘mind’ directly (“Aggredere, anime”, “De Prov.” 12, II.10). 100 Cf. Griffin: “The iactatio or showing off that Ulpian associated with philosophers’ suicides in general moves Marcus Aurelius (11.3) to write” (197) the ensuing (citing from the source): “to

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For the further tradition, such connotations can no longer be excluded; particularly not where the familiar verses are seen and used as Stoic(izing)— considering the latter School’s conventional nexus with the practice at issue.101 In various contexts and to differing ends, Blumenberg ties in with the lines from Horace.102 An initial impetus seems to have been philological, induced by their productive misconstrual in—or deliberate reappropriation by—Bultmann (as well as Freud).103 Thereafter, the philosopher repeatedly recycles the poet’s striking verses, especially by employing them as a heuristic device—whether for

|| be released from the body […] must be associated with deliberation and dignity and, if others too are to be convinced [‘πεῖσαι’], with nothing like stage-heroics [‘ἀτραγῴδως’]” (294–295, XI.3); “the readiness must spring from a man’s inner judgment [‘ἀπὸ ἰδικῆς κρίσεως’]” (294– 295, XI.3). Cf. Haines: “Hadrian (Digest 28. 3. 6, §7)” gives “as causes of suicide taedium vitae, valetudinis adversae impatientia, iactatio (in the case of certain philosophers)” (gloss at Marcus Aurelius 44n.–45n.). On suicidal theatricality (Griffin’s emph. passim; problematically, Rist 252–254)—the aspect of public performance, its ‘social value’—see this Lucianic case (“Peregrinus” passim; spec. 4–5, §3; 40–43, §36–37); with Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 246– 258); Blumenberg (Verführbarkeit 200); Camus (Sisyphe 20, 20n.; Sisyphos 12, 12n.). 101 Cf. e.g. the economy in Pohlenz’ standard work on the Stoa. After Cato—and to conclude the volume—the scholar adds, in his own version, the first lines from Horace (on the second to last page of the text proper, prior to citing a few paragraphs from Seneca): “Gerechten Mann, der stets seinem Vorsatz treu, / schreckt nicht des Pöbels Toben […] / Stürzt’ ein das Weltall, von den Trümmern, / würd’ er begraben, doch ungebrochen” (Stoa 356; with 383n.). Pohlenz glosses: “In den Römeroden spricht Horaz im Sinne des Augustus, der mit Hilfe der stoischen Lehre die altrömische virtus erneuern wollte” (Stoa 383n.). 102 Cf. A. Meyer: “Auch Blumenberg griff gerne auf diese Verse zurück, nachdem er dem Theologen […] Bultmann einst in einer Rezension vorgehalten hatte, sie fehlerhaft zitiert zu haben” (“Anmerkungen” 26). See the n. below. 103 Blumenberg signaled Bultmann’s construal in a 1959 recension; (warily) referring thereto as ‘made in error’—blaming the ‘typesetter’ (“Fehlleistung des Setzers”, “Eschatologie” 166). In 1986, the philosopher corrects his assessment, speaks of a “Verlesung”—qua “signifikante[…] Fehlhandlung […] der Wunschverformung gerade im vielzitierten Bildungsstoff”)—with regard to the Horatian verses (Lebenszeit 161n.). Bultmann’s text (decidedly) alters “fractus” into (the ungrammatical) “fratus” (perhaps an erratum); “illabatur” into “illabitur”; “Si” into “Sic” (Lebenszeit 161n.; with “Eschatologie” 166). Blumenberg comments: “Das dem Setzer statt dem Autor in die Schuhe zu schieben, war eine Höflichkeit, die sich ein junger Rezensent heute nicht mehr leisten dürfte. Heute müßte er sagen: Diese Verlesung ist die Wunschhandlung eines Theologen, den Konjunktiv des antiken Autors zum eschatologischen Indikativ seiner spezifischen Gewißheit zu machen” (Lebenszeit 161n.–162n.). Cf. “So wie Bultmann sogar den lateinischen Text der beiden Verse geändert hatte, ändert Freud den Sinn: der Furchtlose, den Horaz vor sich sieht, ist der Stoiker aus innerer moralischer Stärke, während Freud aus ihm den Typus des Narzißmus herausliest” (Rigorismus 64; 64n.; stressing “this misunderstanding” on the Psychoanalyst’s part at 65; trans. dsm; but see below).

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comparative or contrastive purposes.104 Perchance the ensuing application will seem of particular pertinence to the present context: In Phenomenology[,] the quality of absolute constancy passed from the initial ‘Platonism’ of essential truths to the detached spectator, as […] had already happened before in the Stoa with the constantia of the sage qua Platonic residue[—]withstanding[,] according to its type in Horace[,] not only the world, but even its demise detachedly (impavidum). That would be the limit concept of ‘Sorge’ in the negation of its worldly share: Si fractus illabatur orbis/ Impavidum ferient ruinae. (Sachen 29)105

|| 104 Lebenszeit und Weltzeit offers several references to the Horatian verses; inter alia, the philosopher signals “die Kaltblütigkeit des stoischen vir impavidus, der im Welttrümmerhagel ausharrt” (qua “heroischen Selbstgenuß”)—alongside “den seine Unbetroffenheit genießenden Schiffbruchzuschauer des Epikureers Lukrez” (as “ästhetische Distanz”, Lebenszeit 79; on the latter, see Schiffbruch passim; Sorge 5–93). Cf. Blumenberg’s heuristic use of the locus classicus as a contrast agent with respect to Montaigne’s case: “Der Stoiker hat sich zwar aus der Öffentlichkeit, der res publica, zurückgezogen, doch nicht ins Gehäuse, sondern unter den Himmel, in dessen Anschauung er seine Bürgerschaft am Universum gewinnt und ausübt. Wenn für den Mann der gleichermaßen skeptischen wie stoischen epochē Anfang und Ende der Wissenschaft im Unzugänglichen liegen, wird es zum ‘naturgemäßen’ Verhalten, auch das eigene Leben in Unzugänglichkeit zu führen. Sie wird sich […] in Selbstzugänglichkeit verwandeln. Deren Nachweis ist das weite Feld der ‘Essais’ Montaignes. Sein Stoizismus hat nicht den Typus des von Horaz beschworenen Unerschrockenen im Blick, der im Weltbrand die Trümmer des Himmels auf sich herabstürzen läßt […][.] Der Rückzug ist die Grundrichtung der Daseinsbewegung bei Montaigne” (Höhlen. 280–281, with 281n.). 105 The latter, approx. ‘Should the orbit come shattering down / the ruins will strike a fearless one’ (trans. dsm). ‘Sorge’ is an incomparably fraught term—also discourse historically (as Blumenberg signals by the inverted commas). It might be rendered ‘concern’ or ‘care’, here— considering that the envisioned Stoic does not; his ‘epiméleia’ is ‘of self (only)’. “In der Phänomenologie ist vom anfänglichen ‘Platonismus’ der Wesenswahrheiten die Qualität der absoluten Konstanz auf den unbeteiligten Zuschauer übergegangen, wie es schon einmal in der Stoa mit der constantia des Weisen als platonischem Residuum passiert war, nach dessen Typik bei Horaz nicht nur der Welt, sondern sogar ihrem Untergang unbeteiligt (impavidum) standhaltend. Das wäre der Grenzbegriff der ‘Sorge’ in der Negation ihres Weltanteils: Si fractus illabatur orbis/ Impavidum ferient ruinae”. Cf. “Die Phänomenologie ist die Methode, im Menschen ein qualitativ gottgleiches Reservat zu schaffen, das nicht so sehr Überlegenheit über die Welt als vielmehr Unbetroffenheit und Unbetreffbarkeit durch sie gewährleistet. Es ist die Quintessenz der phänomenologischen Reduktion in persona” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 386; see Waszynski “Berührbarkeit” 78). Withal: “Gefaßtheit ist die äußerste Abweichung von Erwartung, doch nicht deren Aussetzung. Der Stoiker war der Typ der an die Grenze gehenden Gefaßtheit. Nicht zufällig hat Husserls Logik einen Grundzug der stoischen übernommen: die Trennung von Urteilsinhalt und Urteilsqualität” (Blumenberg Sachen 213–214). There seems to be a general tendency on Blumenberg’s part to align various aspects of a Stoic(izing) ethos with the Phenomenological one (resp. Husserl’s)—“In der Blickweise einer historischen Eidetik gleicht die Reduktion am ehesten der stoischen ‘Enthaltsamkeit’, indem diese aus der

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In this textual economy, the term “demise”—applying to the external situation— becomes associated with the one enduring it as part of the whole. At once, the impassive indifference to a world of ‘cares and concerns’ might turn into an—at least potentially—active “negation” thereof. In any event, Blumenberg’s very guarded recourse to the decidedly agential—and discourse historically (highly) problematic—concept of “‘Sorge’” may well insinuate that there is more at play or stake than a ‘detached and distanced spectatorship’.106 If taken in a sense attentive to the mythological implications, Freud’s interpreting the archetype—“the vir impavidus praised by Horace”, “the Stoic in the world’s demise”—as a “case of narcissism” need not seem all that farfetched (as per Blumenberg Rigorismus 9; trans. dsm).107

|| Unverfügbarkeit der Welt für den Menschen die Folgerung ableitet: Verfügbarkeit des Subjekts für sich selbst über die ethisch-praktische Besonnenheit hinaus zum Regulativ auch des theoretischen Sichabfindens mit der Befremdlichkeit der Welt zu machen” (Lebenszeit 352). Cf. this implicit nexus: “Der ständige reduktive Nachholbedarf in der Arbeitsgeschichte des Phänomenologen ist im Rückblick nichts anderes als die methodische Variante des Rückgangs auf den geschichtlichen Stiftungssinn. Ob realisierbar oder nicht, an faktischen Schwächen gescheitert oder durchgehalten: ein universaler Willensentschluß vermag ein Leben zu regieren. Das ist eine Grunderfahrung” (Lebenszeit 358). The gloss refers to “Kants Begriff der ‘Maxime’ […], daß eine einzige […] Maximenbildung das ganze Leben ‘regiert’. Darauf konvergiert Husserls Idealisierung des Phänomenologen, dessen einmalige Einstellungswahl der Reduktion zumindest sein Arbeitsleben homogenisiert” (Lebenszeit 358n.). 106 See Blumenberg’s description of the contrastive case (not sans a certain affinity): “Im Hagel der Atome, unter den für alle gleichen Zufällen des unendlich gesplitteten Zufalls, steht jeder zu Recht, der Nutznießer einer Welt ist, die nur durch Ausscheren aus der Regularität entstehen konnte und unter deren Fortbestand nun selbst zu leiden hat. Nicht erst im Weltuntergang – wie Horaz den unverdrossenen Stoiker im Niederbruch des Himmels besingt – bewährt sich der Weise; jeder seiner Augenblicke ist darin dem anderen gleich, und sich Furcht oder Hoffnung zu überlassen daher sinnlos. Dennoch setzt der Epikureer der heroischen Attitüde des stoischen Welttrotzes eher eine idyllische Unverzagtheit vor dem Unabwendbaren entgegen. […] Alles war Untergang, aber es gab Reservate, ihn heiter zu begehen: Zuschauer auch dessen zu bleiben, was dem eigenen Dasein nahe käme. Den Felsen in der Brandung des atomaren Weltmeeres, auf dem nur der Schiffbruch Schicksal sein konnte, als Episode wahrzunehmen, hieß, noch und allererst genießen zu können, wovon es letztlich nur die Ausnahme des serenen Gemüts gab: die Abschirmung des kleinsten aller möglichen Paradiese. […] Die Heiterkeit im Zwischenspiel der Welten, die ungewisse Verschonung des Gartens inmitten der Weltwildnis waren mit weiser Gelassenheit zu ertragen und sogar zu genießen” (Vollzählig. 267–268). See subchs. 10.4 and 11.1.1, herein. 107 Cf. e.g. Ovid (Metamorph. I–VIII. 152–161, III.402–510; spec. 154–155, III.435–436; 156–157, III.467–473); plus Andreas-Salomé’s three construals of ‘narcissism’ (116). Blumenberg logs “den von Horaz gepriesenen vir impavidus […], den Stoiker im Weltuntergang, den er [sc. Freud] als einen Fall von Narzißmus diagnostiziert hatte” (Rigorismus 9). “Erst […] Freud hat

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10.2.3 ‘The Open Door’: Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius (Plus Notes on Diogenes) It is difficulties [‘περιστάσεις’] that show what men [‘ἄνδρας’] are. —Epictetus (Disc. I–II. 148–149, I.24.1)108

Habitually by recourse to athletic and martial metaphors, Epictetus sets the vital scene as one of struggles. Via sermocinationes for a Stoicized ‘Diogenes’, its potential or probable hazards (“death”, “exile”, “reviling”, “poverty”, Disc. I–II. 149, I.24.4) are said to count as naught—here without respect for the first: “Death is not an evil [‘ὁ θάνατος οὐκ ἔστι κακόν’], since it is not dishonourable” (Disc. I–II. 150–151, I.24.6).109 With a view to vividness and verisimilitude, the overarching imagery shows a tendency toward the dramatic; notably its dreadful variant.110 For Epictetus— himself a former slave—is addressing (or harassing) the masses; and propounds a highly stratified sense of society: sleep on the ground […] [and] do so with good courage, snoring and remembering that tragedies [‘τραγῳδιαι’] find a place among the rich and among kings and tyrants, but no poor man fills a tragic rôle except as a member of the chorus. (Disc. I–II. 152–153, I.24.15)111

Evidently, there is a twist in this tale (which may well resemble ressentiment): || gesehen, daß der Typus der Unerschrockenheit keineswegs der des Realismus ist, also der aktiven Auseinandersetzung mit dem, dessen Anblick er auszuhalten vermag. Der Stoiker, dessen im Weltzerfall unerschrockene Figur Horaz besingt, erscheint Freud als Typus des Narzißmus” (qtd. in: A. Meyer “Anmerkungen” 27; from: “Typoskript ESC [Eschatologie] X, Bl. 15b, DLA Marbach, Nachlaß”, these brackets in the source). For Blumenberg’s reception of Freud on this matter, cf. his excerpt, intercalated comments (Rigorismus 64–65). For further references, see A. Meyer (“Anmerkungen” 26–27; “Nachwort” 115). Generally, Hirzel (88, 88n.). 108 Dobbin has “circumstances” (Disc. I [Dobbin] 45, I.24.1). The immediately preceding caption sets the context as ‘agonistic’ (“ἀγωνιστέον”, Disc. I–II. 148, I.24.title). Epictetus (resp. Arrian) and Marcus Aurelius are historically later than Seneca, of course. The present approach being comparatist, the chronological sequence is reversed, in order to focus on the affinities between the Roman rhétor and Blumenberg (hence the transition from subchs. 10.2.4 to 10.3). 109 Generally, see Niehues-Pröbsting: “Bekanntlich bildet der Suizid innerhalb der stoischen Lehre eine legitime Möglichkeit moralischen Handelns, die z. B. bei Epiktet damit begründet wird, daß das Leben nicht dem Willen untersteht und daher zu den äußeren Gütern zählt, auf die der einzelne verzichten können muß” (Kynismus 247). See Mayfield (Artful 66n.). 110 Yet not only; see his recourse to the Saturnalia, as discussed below. Generally, cf. Dobbin: “E[pictetus] explores the implications of various metaphors for life. Games and the theatre […] were traditional” (“Comment.” 206). See also Vogel (220–222). 111 In an anecdote, the speaker evokes his time in slavery (Disc. I–II. 70–73, I.9.29–30; 71n.).

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When […] you approach one of those great men, remember […] that you are approaching a tragic character [‘τραγῳδῷ’], not the actor [‘οὐ τῷ ὑποκριτῇ’], but Oedipus himself. (Disc. I–II. 152–153, I.24.18)

The implication: his chorus tends to be in the know—hence better off, after all. Mimicking the structure of a denouement, Epictetus lowers the bar even further—in order to combine his preferred catchphrase with a refrain familiar from voiceovers in courtyards, or walks in the park.112 The ensuing is given as a précis or grand total (“τὸ […] κεφάλαιον”): remember that the door has been thrown open [‘ἡ θύρα ἤνοικται’]. Do not become a greater coward than the children, but just as they say, ‘I won’t play any longer [‘οὐκέτι παίζω’]’, when the thing does not please them [‘αὐτοῖς μὴ ἀρέσκῃ τὸ πρᾶγμα’], so do you also, when things seem [‘φαίνηταί’] to you to have reached that stage, merely say, ‘I won’t play any longer’, and take your departure [‘ἀπαλλάσσου’]; but if you stay, stop lamenting [‘μένων δὲ μὴ θρήσει’]. (Disc. I–II. 152–155, I.24.19–20)113

|| 112 As to the Epictetian catchphrase, cf. e.g. “Zeus […] has opened for you the door [‘σοι τὴν θύραν ἤνοιξεν’], whenever they [sc. ‘things’] are not to your good [‘σοι μὴ ποιῇ’]? Man, go out [‘ἄνθρωπε, ἔξελθε’], and do not complain [‘καὶ μὴ ἐγκάλει’]” (“Disc. III–IV” 62–63, III.viii.6—i.e. if matters are unendurable); “whenever He does not provide the necessities [‘τἀναγκαῖα’] for existence, He sounds the recall [‘τὸ ἀνακλητικὸν σημαίναι’]; He has thrown open the door [‘τὴν θύραν ἤνοιξεν’] and says to you, ‘Go [‘ἔρχου’]’ […][—]back to that from which you came, to what is friendly [‘φίλα’] and akin [‘συγγενῆ’] to you, to the physical elements [‘τὰ στοιχεῖα’]” (“Disc. III–IV” 92–93, III.xiii.14); the latter with a paronomastic pun on the School’s name. From a Stoic angle, Seneca’s rhetorical bravado may seem contumelious, here (likely in general): “Let every season, every place, teach you how easy it is to renounce Nature and fling her gift back in her face [‘quam facile sit renuntiare naturae et munus illi suum impingere’]. […] No deep retreat conceals the soul [‘spiritus’], you need no knife at all to root it out […]; death lies near at hand [‘in proximo mors est’]. […] anywhere you wish, the way is open [‘quacumque vis pervium est’]. Even that which we call dying […] is so brief that its fleetness [‘velocitas’] cannot come within the ken. […] be it what it may, the end is swift [‘quicquid est, properat’]” (“De Prov.” 46–47, VI.8–9). On nature in this respect, see J. N. Sevenster, as cited in Rist (250). 113 A. U. Sommer avers: “EPIKTET […] zieht Spielmetaphern entschieden vor” (59). Select parts of Dobbin’s trans. seem preferable here, being more maximatic, euphonious: “the door is open”; “if you stay, don’t complain” (Disc. I [Dobbin] 46, I.24.20). He logs: “E[pictetus] employs two of his most distinctive metaphors, comparing life to a game, and the option of suicide, when the game no longer attracts, to an open door” (“Comment.” 204; referring to Seneca, inter alia). “We need not ‘remain in the game’ under all circumstances. If circumstances are too much to bear, suicide is an option. And the promise of release, or escape, that death brings, emboldens us to ‘break up the game’ when conditions become intolerable” (“Comment.” 205).

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By recourse to a German idiom, one might say with particular pertinence: ‘damit sind dem Freitod Tür und Tor geöffnet’.114 The momentaneous plausibility of this Epictetian argument is likely to render it highly precarious. For the (very) young may seem to have a natural bent towards hedonism outright; would surely consider countless—otherwise rational and requisite—actions unpreferable; especially such as entail “the long head” (Melville “Billy Budd” 136, §16).115 While not yet reflective, a makeshift capacity for contingency appears to be acquired rather early in life—conspicuously, when an ‘as if’ is put into playful practice.116 Should the Stagirite be right (and he tends to be), this will have to do with mimetic activity—vicariously enacting something seen or conceived.117 Suspending factuality to some extent, the suppositional or virtual performances staged by adults keep at that habit of rehearsing the hypothetical (sensu lato).118

|| 114 Approx. ‘therewith, the floodgates are opened to suicidal tendencies’. Cf. Pohlenz: “‘Die Tür steht offen’, ruft Epiktet immer wieder seinen Hörern zu als das letzte Worte, das dem Menschen seine innere Freiheit und Selbstbestimmung sichert” (Stoa 147; with 369n.). 115 These abysmal implications come to the fore in Dobbin’s (plainly innocent) comment: “It is always possible to opt out of the game if it proves unpleasant, even if that means renouncing life itself. The upshot is that we will have no grounds for complaint, whatever the circumstances, because we can either play along or excuse ourselves” (“Comment.” 206–207). 116 Alluding to Vaihinger’s title (i; also: 94–100, XXII)—while not subscribing to his tendency. Concerning the latter, see Kablitz’ caveats (Kunst 186–189). In the diatribe following the above, Epictetus features “[t]he comparison of life to a hypothetical argument”; such “are similar to a game or a drama in that they depend on certain premisses. […] The[ir] relevance […] for life is that we can play the part defined by circumstances, without imagining that it determines who we are. For in Stoicism character is determined not by circumstances, but by our conduct in them. […] Character is defined by prohairesis, not externals” (Dobbin “Comment.” 207). See the resp. passage in Epictetus (Disc. I–II. 156–159, I.25.7–13; with 157n.–159n.); spec. “as we behave in the matter of hypothetical proposals, so we ought to behave in life also” (Disc. I–II. 157, I.25.11). Oldfather glosses: “we accept our hypothesis as long as we can do so in reason; so in life we must be guided by reason” (Disc. I–II. 157n.). 117 Cf. “it is an instinct of human beings [‘σύμφυτον τοῖς ἀνθρώποις’], from childhood [‘ἐκ παίδων’], to engage in mimesis [‘μιμεῖσθαι’] […][;] this distinguishes them from other animals [‘ζῴων’]: man is the most mimetic [‘μιμητικώτατόν’] of all, and it is through mimesis that he develops his earliest understanding [‘μαθήσεις’]” (“Poetics” 36–37, 1448b, IV). See Schaeffer (Why Fiction? xvi). Blumenberg logs an intergenerational reciprocity as to the serious and the playful: “Kinder haben überall und jederzeit den Ernst der Erwachsenen zum Spiel angeeignet” (Sachen 329). Needless to say, mimesis goes both ways (and most). See subch. 10.4, herein. 118 Cf. Blumenberg: “Unsere ganze literarische Tradition beruht auf der Voraussetzung, daß der Mensch zeitweise auf seinen soliden Wirklichkeitsbezug verzichten, aus dem Ernst der Selbsterhaltungsanforderungen heraustreten kann” (Beschreibung 638). Consequently, it tends to be possible “hinter dem Spiel den Ernst […] zu entdecken” (Niehues-Pröbsting Einsicht 21).

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Naturally, the Stoic’s oratorical purpose is mindful and reasonable. Nor is he actually speaking to—while certainly of—children; although he frequently treats his audience just that way.119 There can be no question as to the voluntas; but those verba (respectively scripta), and particularly the figurative ones, may seem wide open to decontextualized uptakes; not least due to their striking eloquence and sententiousness, conducing to effortless floatation in the oral, as well as textual networks of his day—and beyond. Yet the same will hold good for the Stoic’s generally valid call to curtail the lachrymosity.120 In Arrian’s economy, the ensuing diatribe is given as affine.121 Therein, Epictetus has recourse to another form of social pastime—less grave and more ludic than tragedy, prima facie: How long […] is it well [‘καλῶς’] to keep these precepts and not to break up the game [‘τὴν παιδιὰν μὴ λύειν’]? As long as it is played pleasantly [‘κομψῶς’]. At the Saturnalia a king is chosen by lot; for it has been decided to play this game. The king gives his commands […]. I obey, so as not to be the one to break up the game [‘ἵνα μὴ παρ’ ἐμὲ λύηται ἡ παιδιά’]. (Disc. I–II. 156–157, I.25.7–8)122

The venerable image of grave and stern Stoics need not suffer from such ostensive partaking in what might otherwise seem little else than a collective caprice (if not childishness).123 For—via strict inversion—said custom effectively reaffirms stratification.124 Calculatedly enacting contingency as a temporally limited exception to the rule, it does not question, but rather reinforces the state of affairs obtaining on the whole. For a specified time, the general organization is quasi upended and

|| 119 In Vogel’s eloquent laconicity: “Doch für die Zielgruppe genügt dieses Level” (152). 120 As regards cutting the crying (and cackle): “Why, then, did He bring me into the world on these conditions?—And if they do not suit you, leave [‘εἰ μὴ ποιεῖ σοι, ἔξελθε’]; God has no need of a fault-finding spectator [‘μεμψιμοίρου’]” (“Disc. III–IV” 281, IV.i.108; plus 62–63, III.viii.6). 121 See the caption (as it has come down to the present): “Πρὸς τὸ αὐτό” (Disc. I–II. 154, I.25). 122 Cf. Rist: “In general Epictetus compares life to a game where moral principles are the rules” (251). Pertinently, Dobbin accentuates a severity by implication: “The tyrant giving orders [sc. in I.25.19] is tacitly equated with the factitious king of the Saturnalia […]. Both wield power, but how much depends in part on our compliance” (“Comment.” 208). 123 Concerning the Saturnalia, see another instance where Epictetus counsels that one should play along for the time being (or at least abstain from objecting)—as one would in the games of children (Disc. I–II. 190–191, I.29.30–32). Then again, some might wish to reflect on the fact that such well-meant accommodation has a tendency to keep ‘certain’ notions in circulation. 124 For the continued tradition—especially during Early Modern times—cf. Bakhtin, above all (6–8; “the peculiar logic of the ‘inside out’”, “‘turnabout’”, “top to bottom”, “front to rear”, “a ‘world inside out’”: 11; 70; 76; spec. 81–82; 198–199; passim).

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reversed—precisely, and only, in order to be returned to. Far from offending his wonted gravitas, the—apparently—‘chaotized’ or topsy-turvy world suits the Stoic’s ‘cosmic’ proclivity indeed (etymologically speaking): How long […] should we obey such commands? As long as it is beneficial, and that means, as long as I preserve what is becoming [‘τὸ πρέπον’] and consistent [‘κατάλληλον’]. (Disc. I–II. 158–159, I.25.14)125

Even the extraordinary has its measure—also in another sense or respect. For by elaborating on his aperitive, domestico-portal metaphor, Epictetus attempts to further rationalize the grounds for—and timeliness of—making one’s exit: Is there smoke in the house? If there isn’t too much, I will stay. If it is excessive, I leave. For one should remember and hold fast to this, that the door is open. […] living in Gyara [sc. in exile] seems [to me] like a whole lot of smoke. I repair to the place where no one can keep me from residing. For that residence is open to all. (Disc. I [Dobbin] 48, I.25.18–20)126

In pragmatic or ethical matters, degrees are relative to the involved, affected.127

|| 125 On the whole, see this pertinent gloss on the part of Cherniss: “The Stoics emphasized the coherence and internal consistency of their system” (in: Plutarch “Stoic Self-Contra.” 412n.). For the concept of ‘chaoticization’—here mutatis mutandis—see Küpper (Discursive 14n., 16, 279, 292; with 12–13, 253, 262, 267, 269n., 270, 280, 287). 126 Cf. “Gyara (or Gyaros) is a barren island in the Aegean. In the early Empire it served as a place of exile. The residence ‘open to all’ […] is […] the abode of the dead” (Dobbin “Comment.” 208). His rendition is cited, as its pace and make may seem more effectual than Oldfather’s, in this spec. case—apart from the fact that Dobbin appears to omit a decisive “μοι”. Cf. “Has some one made […] smoke [‘καπνὸν’] in the house [‘ἐν τῷ οἰκήματι’]? If he has made a moderate amount [‘μέτριον’] of smoke I shall stay [‘μενῶ’]; if too much [‘λίαν πολύν’], I go outside [‘ἐξέρχομαι’]. For one ought to remember and hold fast to this, that the door stands open [‘ἡ θύρα ἤνοικται’]. […] to dwell in Gyara seems [‘φαίνεται’] to me [‘μοι’] to be like a great quantity of smoke [‘πολύς (…) καπνὸς’] in the house. I leave [‘ἀποχωρῶ’] for a place where no one will prevent me from dwelling, for that dwelling-place stands open to every man [‘παντὶ ἤνοικται’]” (Disc. I–II. 158–159, I.25.18–20; with 159n.). Cf. Dobbin: “The image of ‘smoke in the house’ […] denotes circumstances that are unendurable—in Stoic terms, an absence, or shortage, of the primary things in accordance with nature. Suicide was justified under these conditions […][;] the phrase ‘the door is open’ […] allud[es] to th[is] option” (“Comment.” 208; also on Marcus Aurelius; cf. 122–123, V.29; with 123n.; Rist 252–253). Generally, Dobbin logs that “suicide could be judged ‘reasonable’ under certain conditions” (“Comment.” 81); and provides further “references to suicide as a ‘reasonable exit’ (eulogos exagōgē)” (“Comment.” 82). 127 As Epictetus admits: “it so happens that the rational and the irrational are different for different persons, precisely as good and evil, and the profitable and the unprofitable, are different for different [‘ἄλλο ἄλλῳ’] persons” (Disc. I–II. 16–17, I.2.5). See Aristotle: “the mean relative to us [‘πρὸς ἡμᾶς’] [is] that amount which is neither too much nor too little, and this is

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Besides the relevant terms (“μέτριον”, “λίαν πολύν”, Disc. I–II. 158, I.25.18), the exilic sample is formulated in a way as accentuates that this is precisely a case of ‘seeming to some(one in) particular’ (“μοι […] φαίνεται”, Disc. I–II. 158, I.25.20). Hence showing oneself out (ahead of time) is an exit strategy (entirely) based on personal preference, tolerance (not to say willfulness). Tying in with his audience’s lifeworld, the vivid simplicity, verbal economy, of that (typically) Epictetian imagery conduces to its momentaneous efficacy: Whenever you wish [‘ὅταν θέλῃς’], you walk out of the house [‘ἐξῆλθες’], and are no longer bothered by the smoke [‘καὶ οὐ καπνίζῃ’]. (“Disc. III–IV” 404–405, IV.x.27).128

With this, the floodgates appear open indeed: matters might be ‘otherwised’— here specifically qua ‘no longer at all’. Generally speaking, Stoic discourses may well display a tendency towards overestimating the extent to which the animal in question actually is rational (exceptions not being the rule). Certainly egregious (in the sense of standing out from the common run), Marcus Aurelius takes up the memorable impression from Epictetus—dedicating one of his meditative variations thereto: Thou canst live on earth as thou dost purpose to live […]. But if men will not have it so, then is it time for thee even to go out of life [‘τοῦ ζῆν ἔξιθι’], yet not as one who is treated ill [‘ὡς μηδὲν κακὸν πάσχων’]. ‘Tis smoky and I go away [‘Καπνός, καὶ ἀπέρχομαι’]. Why think it a great matter? But while no such cause drives me forth, I remain a free man

|| not one [‘τοῦτο δ’ οὐχ’ ἕν’] […] [nor] the same for everybody [‘οὐδὲ ταυτὸν πᾶσιν’]” (NE 90–91, II.vi.5, 1106a; with 109, 1109a, II.viii.8; also 92–93, II.vi.8, 1106b; 94–95, II.vi.15, 1107a; 112–113, 1109b, II.ix.8). Rackham glosses: “μέσον, ‘middle’ or ‘mean’, is used as a synonym for μέτριον ‘moderate’ or of the right amount” (NE 90n.); i.e. “a mean in the sense of being the right amount for the recipient, and also of lying somewhere between any two other amounts that happen to be too much and too little for him” (NE 91n.). See Trimpi/Blumberg (341). Cf. “we must in everything be most of all on our guard [‘μάλιστα φυλακτέον’] against what is pleasant [‘τὸ ἡδὺ’] and against pleasure [‘τὴν ἡδονήν’]; for when pleasure is on her trial we are not impartial judges [‘οὐ γὰρ ἀδέκαστοι κρίνομεν αὐτὴν’]” (NE 112–113, 1109b, II.ix.6); “questions of degree depend on particular circumstances [‘ἐν τοῖς καθ’ ἕκαστα’], and the decision [‘ἡ κρίσις’] lies with perception [‘ἐν τῇ αἰσθήσει’]” (NE 112–113, 1109b, II.ix.8, plus context). 128 In the immediate vicinity of said segment, Epictetus merges the ‘oikonomic’ with another image field, wherewith his Mediterranean recipients would also be arch-acquainted: “death is my harbour [‘λιμὴν τὸ ἀποθανεῖν’]. And this is the harbour of all men, even death, and this their refuge” (“Disc. III–IV” 404–405, IV.x.27). Despite his harsh criticism of Arrian (whom he takes to have unduly ‘modified’ Epictetus in the Diatribes), Schopenhauer remarks on the inductive aspects with approval: “stellenweise [‘ist’] viel gesunder Verstand darin enthalten, wie auch treffende, aus dem Leben gegriffene Schilderungen der Menschen und ihres Thuns. Der Stil ist leicht und fließend, aber sehr breit” (“Fragmente” 62, §6, ‘Stoiker’).

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[‘μένω ἐλεύθερος’], and none shall prevent me from doing what I will [‘θέλω’], and I will what is in accordance with the nature of a rational and social [animal; ‘θέλω δὲ κατὰ φύσιν τοῦ λογικοῦ καὶ κοινωνικοῦ ζῴου’]. (122–123, V.29; see 123n.)129

The voluntaristic element (“θέλω”) is pronounced.130 At least in part, this will also be due to the genre (as such). For—unlike Epictetus and (while differently) also Seneca—Marcus Aurelius is addressing himself (only, it seems). Since he is neither preaching, nor instructing anyone—apart from his own mind—there is a certain foolproofness built into his maximatic aphorisms: should the speaker turn out to be one, his folly would not go viral. Remaining extratextual, the historical fact that these meditations were circulated later (whether against, or in line with, his will) does not significantly alter the state of play.131 Recipients are still facing a ‘rhapsodically’ associative, eclectically contemplative, expediently hypomnematic ‘narrative’ in the first person—sans missionary zeal or rigueur doctrinaire.132 (T)his voluntarism may appear relatively contained—though not quarantined altogether. While the Emperor seems especially concerned with the manner in which one steps down from one’s duties—namely, as dignified as one performed them in vivo—it is manifest that suicide is a last resort; and reasonable as such.133 || 129 Haines has “creature” (123, V.29)—a representative instance of his blatant, and highly problematic policy of Christianizing the trans. throughout (expedient for heuristico-contrastive reasons even so). In certain cases, the boundary between discursive innocence (not to say, obtuseness) and distortions mala fide might seem erased—e.g. when glossing over the difficulty of encountering suicide in Marcus Aurelius by an outright blatantly inapplicable reference to “Augustine’s ‘Let me die lest I die’” (269n.). See the Church Father’s unequivocal stance (de civ. Dei I–III. 76–117, I.xvii–xxvii), as detailed in subch. 10.2.2, herein. 130 This aspect—decisive for the topic generally at issue—will be returned to in the ensuing subchs. on Seneca (10.2.4) and Blumenberg (10.3). In light of the above, Haines’ view appears overstated: “Marcus [Aurelius] has no affinity with Seneca” (xiii). 131 This is not the place for speculation. Haines’ opening statement may well suffice for the purposes at hand: “IT is not known how this small but priceless book of private devotional memoranda came to be preserved for posterity” (xi; plus xv–xvi). 132 Regarding the booklet’s make, Haines pertinently speaks of “homeliness, abruptness” (xi; cf. “abrupt and concise”, xii), “disconnected jottings” (xi). Yet he seems to consider the terms “terse, epigrammatic” inapplicable (ix)—which is hardly plausible. For the hypomnematic purpose, see Marcus Aurelius (62, III.14; with Haines xi, n.). The critic further remarks: “we do not find in the Emperor the […] rigid didacticism and spiritual dogmatism of his predecessor [sc. ‘Epictetus’]. […] His is no cut and dried creed” (xiii). 133 See Marcus Aurelius: “But life is not worth living [‘οὐκ ἄξιον ζῆν’], this left undone. Depart [‘ἄπιθι’] then from life, dying with the same kindly feelings as he who effects his purpose, and accepting with a good grace the obstacles that thwart thee” (220–223, VIII.47). “But if thou […] canst not win thy way, betake thyself with a good heart to some nook where thou shalt prevail,

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This should be in line with the general tendency of the discourse to which Marcus Aurelius (largely) subscribes: if a life according to one’s ‘personal’ ethos or intellectual desires (redescribed as ‘katà phýsin’) no longer seems feasible or viable, taking one’s leave is Stoically acceptable—or even requisite.134 The epidemic potential implied in legitimizing self-induced departures (even as ‘necessity’ arises) are bluntly brought out by the ensuing sequence of sermocinationes—virtually representing the public and dynamic situation of diatribic communication more generally: ‘Epictetus, we can no longer endure to be imprisoned with this paltry body, giving it food and drink […] and, to crown all, being on its account brought into contact with these people and those. Are not these things indifferent [‘ἀδιάφορα’]—indeed, nothing—to us [‘καὶ οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]? And is not death no evil [‘καὶ ὁ θάνατος οὐ κακόν’]? […] Suffer us to go back whence we came; suffer us to be freed at last from these fetters that are fastened to us and weigh us down[’]. (Disc. I–II. 66–67, I.9.12–14)135

World-weariness is not the preserve of fin de siècles (with their décadents, ennuyés), apocalyptic sectarians, galled and jaded Romanticists, or certain tedious tendencies within the early Church—all of which remain highly contagious. The very fact that the above position is ventriloquized within the diatribes seems to insinuate that popular Stoicism was not without its malcontents—all talk of patient endurance notwithstanding. || or even depart [‘ἔξιθι’] altogether from life, not in wrath but in simplicity, independence [‘ἐλευθέρως’], and modesty, having at least done this one thing well in life, that thou hast quitted [‘ἐξελθεῖν’] it thus” (268–271, X.8.2; the gloss at 268n.–269n. is problematic). Here and frequently, the Emperor focuses on the manner in which to exit, once reasonable grounds for proactive conduct have been established. Assessing the latter depends on—and is relative to— the particular case at hand: “Bene autem mori est effugere male vivendi periculum” (Seneca Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.6). Generally thereto, see Fothergill-Payne (Seneca 90). 134 Cf. “Ueberhaupt läßt die Stoische Ansicht sich auch so ausdrücken: Unser Leiden entspringt allemal aus dem Mißverhältnis zwischen unseren Wünschen und dem Weltlauf. Daher muß Eines dieser Beiden geändert und dem Andern angepaßt werden. Da nun der Lauf der Dinge nicht in unserer Macht steht (ουκ εφ’ ἡμιν); so müssen wir unser Wollen und Wünschen dem Lauf der Dinge gemäß einrichten: denn der Wille allein ist εφ’ ἡμιν. Dieses Anpassen des Wollens zum Laufe der Außenwelt, also zur Natur der Dinge, wird sehr oft unter dem vieldeutigen κατα φυσιν ζῃν verstanden” (Schopenhauer WWV II. 182, §16, ‘Ueber den praktischen Gebrauch der Vernunft und den Stoicismus’). 135 On the Stoic concept cited, see Cicero, giving “ἀδιάφορον” as “indifferens” (De Fin. 272, III.xvi.53). Cf. also Seneca (“de vita beata” 156–157, XXII.4; 156n.); D. Laertius (Lives II. 208–211, VII.104–105); Schopenhauer (WWV II. 180, §16); Hirzel (282, 282n.). For a subversive reading of the “Stoic saying […] Pereant ne peream”, see Blumenberg (Sorge 45; with 46; trans. dsm); and Möller’s refunctionalization (“Schiffbruch” 137).

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Hardly are catchphrases (not thoughtlessly so called) unlikely to have the desired effect—and actually ‘stick’. By concealing the art involved (typically via the hackneyed ruse of berating rhetoric), certain philosophical maxims are so aptly manufactured that the masses might feel a need to take them literally.136 By recourse to Plato, Epictetus—accepting the ‘given’ role by putting words into his own mouth (so to speak)—tries to stop the wailing.137 He cues himself (“thereupon it were my part to say”): ‘Men, wait upon God. When He shall give the signal [‘σημήνῃ’] and set you free [‘ἀπολύσῃ’] from this service [‘ὑπηρεσίας’], then shall you depart to Him; but for the present endure [‘ἀνάσχεσθε’] to abide in this place [‘χώραν’], where He has stationed [‘ἔταξεν’] you. Short indeed is this time of your abiding here, and easy to bear for men of your convictions [‘ὀλίγος ἄρα χρόνος οὗτος ὁ τῆς οἰκήσεως καὶ ῥᾴδιος τοῖς οὕτω διακειμένοις’]. […] Stay, nor be so unrational as to depart [‘μείνατε, μὴ ἀλογίστως ἀπέλθητε’]’. (Disc. I–II. 68–69, I.9.16–17)138

While the ‘semantics of necessity’ remain as nebulous or elusive as daimónia and Sophists, the message to make a reasonable stand forbearingly seems to be conveyed effectively.139 If so, this will likely be down to the intercalated tópos— that anyone’s presence is always already ephemeral to begin with.

|| 136 Epictetus seems well aware thereof; e.g. when asking rhetorically (precisely in a context concerned with suicide): “What then? Must I say these things to the multitude? For what purpose? Is it not sufficient for a man himself to believe them?” (Disc. I–II. 191, I.29.30–31). 137 Cf. Plato (“Phaedo” 216–217, 62B–C, §6); discussed in subch. 10.2.1, herein. Also Epictetus (Disc. I–II. 70–71, I.9.24; with 71n.; and Plato “Apology” 104–107, 28E, §17; 108–109, 29C–D). Generally, Dobbin remarks: “The passage [sc. I.9.10–26] certainly reflects Plato’s influence […][;] such […] would be consistent with a contemporary trend in Stoicism. The passage in general is a notable example of philosophical eclecticism: Cynic cosmopolitanism, the Stoic idea of ‘generative reason’, Platonic dualism and eschatology” (“Comment.” 126). 138 These trans. by Dobbin seem preferable (in terms of euphony, rhetorical effectuality): “Short indeed is the time of your sojourn, and easy for those of your convictions. […] Stay, do not depart on unreasonable grounds” (Disc. I [Dobbin] 20, I.9.17). He adds: “E[pictetus] speaks in propria persona, and does not directly challenge the ideas in the subsequent sections, only discourages the impulse to suicide that could result” (“Comment.” 126). 139 See this affine passage: “For how long? For so long as reason chooses [‘οὗ λόγος αἱρῇ’] that I remain with my paltry body; but when reason does not so choose, take it and good health to you [‘ὑγιαίνετε’]! Only let me not give up my life irrationally [‘μὴ ἀλογίστως’], only let me not give up my life faintheartedly, or from casual pretext [‘μὴ ἐκ τῆς τυχούσης προφάσεως’]. For again, God does not so desire; for He has need of such a universe, and of such men who go to and fro upon earth. But if He gives a signal to retreat [‘σημήνῃ τὸ ἀνακλητικὸν’], as He did to Socrates, I must obey Him who gives the signal, as I would a general” (Disc. I–II. 190–191, I.28– 29). While Epictetus naturally presupposes mental ‘hygiene’, recipients will make up their own

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Mentioned at the outset of this subchapter overall (10.2), and to be returned to in the following (10.2.4), this (potential) tension between life’s brevity and its proactive foreshortening is particularly patent in Seneca—due to his highly antithetical style and proclivity for oxymora not least.140 In the present case, the verbal recourse to human evanescence serves Epictetus as a quasi irrefutable commonplace—functionalized with a view to accentuating the inevitable limit naturally set to any animal’s time of having to endure come what may. Consequently, one need not artificially hasten what will happen anyway (rather sooner than later); and particularly not such as are armed and hardened by the Stoic code and creed. Even so, it is precisely the latter that—while expressly calling for patient resilience with respect to the struggles of life—includes a proviso to the effect that endurance will not be pursued at all costs; and so Epictetus continues, arriving at his open house and door policy once more: A corpse [‘νεκρὸς’] is your teacher and corpses [‘νεκροὶ’] are you. As soon as you have fed your fill to-day, you sit lamenting about the morrow, wherewithal you shall be fed. Slave, if you get it, you will have it; if you do not get it, you will depart [‘ἐξελεύσῃ’]; the door stands open [‘ἤνοικται ἡ θύρα’]. (Disc. I–II. 68–69, I.25.19–20)

Seeing the inevitable as already the case, this argument’s economy stresses the natural course of events. Via the formula familiar from discussions of voluntary egress, the verdict on this matter is still that death is free for the taking, and all.

|| minds about the (possibly cynical) effects of wishing a potential suicide “good health”. Cf. “E[pictetus]’s judicious attitude, discouraging ‘irrational’ suicide, agrees with the teaching of other Stoics […][;] [the] passage owes a clear debt to Pl[ato] Ph[ae]d[o] 61b–62e […], although it ignores the unqualified ban on suicide there in favour of the more subtle Stoic position” (Dobbin “Comment.” 230); the latter seems problematic. Cf. an earlier, more nuanced remark: “The argument […] derives from Plato’s Phaedo 61b–62e, where Socrates says that suicide is a crime against god, unless he sends a signal in the form of ‘some necessity’ (62c) to abandon this life for the next. The motive to suicide that E[pictetus] considers, contempt for the body and for life on earth, informs the view of philosophy in the Phaedo as ‘a practice for death’ (64a, 67e, 80e). Suicide, however, is forbidden. The ban was originally Pythagorean […], but is affirmed in the Phaedo, and repeated by later writers, undoubtedly under Plato’s influence […]. Although Plato discourages suicide, a loathing for life and for the body is a characteristically Platonic attitude. It is found among later Stoics” (“Comment.” 125; plus further references). 140 Generally as to Senecan style, see Williamson: “brief and pointed”; “tends to parataxis without conjunctions”; “capitalizes […] on discontinuity” (52); “cult of point and antithesis” (56); “a sharply separated style” (57); “pointed brevity”; “schematic antithesis”, which “adds word-play to word-contrast” (60; plus 131, 148–149). Cf. Aubrey’s notorious line: “Dr Kettell was wont to say that ‘Seneca writes, as a boar does piss’ that is, by jerks” (190).

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In line with an—ultimately fatalistic—determinism characteristic of Stoic discourses more generally, the Epictetian concept of liberty appears to be conceived ex negativo, at least predominantly.141 The (only) exception will be what no animal—including the human (and putatively rational) one—is exempt from, no matter what else might happen. Death is the sole affair anybody potentially is—and may indeed be—‘free for’. With—likely involuntary hilarity or cynicism—the bottom line is condensed into this backfiring one: “Ὅταν γοῦν πάθῃ τις ὅτι εὔλογον, ἀπελθὼν ἀπήγξατο” (Disc. I–II. 16, I.2.3).142 Before moving on to Seneca, a short coda will seem appropriate in said respect. As briefly indicated at the outset of this subchapter, Epictetus—and others of his ilk—try to Stoicize ‘Diogenes’ as far as possible. In the course of such attempts at housebreaking the Cynic(s), that dogmatic rigorist spares no effort to restrict the very license the Dog embodies in word and deed.143

|| 141 Cf. “For freedom [‘ἐλευθερία’] is not acquired by satisfying yourself with what you desire, but by destroying your desire [‘ἀνασκευῇ τῆς ἐπιθυμίας’]” (“Disc. III–IV” 304–305, IV.i.175). See Rist, with regard to Seneca (248–249; spec. “a negative concept of freedom”, 248). In another context, Blumenberg similarly refers to “die negative Freiheit vom Zwang der Bedürfnisse” (“Sturz” 48). See Niehues-Pröbsting on “Epiktets Moral der absoluten und innerlichen Freiheit” (Kynismus 231); cited with context below. Cf. Nietzsche’s ‘concept of freedom’—accentuating a deliberate practice of intellectual hygiene and ‘social distancing’: “M e i n B e g r i f f von F r e i h e i t. […] Denn was ist Freiheit! Dass man den Willen zur Selbstverantwortlichkeit hat. Dass man die Distanz, die uns abtrennt, festhält” (“Götzen [KSA 6]” 139, “Streifzüge eines Unzeitgemäßen”, §38). Neo-Skeptically, Marquard sees liberty in an accidental (and—mayhap—tacitly decided) pluralization of potential determining factors: “Ich behaupte hier also – als skeptisch-moralistisch generalisierte Gewaltenteilungsthese – die Freiheitswirkung der Überdetermination. […] Freiheit […] als Begleiterscheinung […][;] eine determinationspluralistische Freiheitsthese […] führt – vielleicht – zu einem endlichkeitsbedacht-skeptischen Freiheitsgedanken. Ich sage: vielleicht” (Skepsis 120–122; with Glück 26; “Finalisierung” 473–474). As to ‘freedom from’ resp. ‘for’, see Mayfield (Artful 66n.); Gehlen (93); Branham/Goulet-Cazé (9, by recourse to Berlin). Generally, cf. Dobbin’s remark (cum grano salis): “no definitive account emerged from the old Stoa, so that later Stoics were forced (or free) to devise varying explanations of their own” (“Comment.” 177). While his underlying presuppositions and tendency seem problematically dogmatic (those parentheses might as well be reversed, enclosing “forced” instead), the structural aspect will be illustrative. 142 Whereas the severe Stoic will hardly be thought to have such in mind (de dicto), neither Oldfather’s nor Dobbin’s trans. seem capable of spiriting away the suppressed smirk insinuated by the diction (as such, de re): “at all events whenever a man feels that it is rational he goes and hangs himself” (Disc. I–II. 17, I.2.3). “Well, whenever one feels that it is reasonable, he goes and hangs himself” (Disc. I [Dobbin] 5, I.2.3; with Dobbin “Comment.” 82; referring to Plutarch “Against the Stoics” 672–673, 1060C–D, §4, 673n.; cf. spec. 692–695, 1063C–F, §11). 143 Pertinently, Hirzel: “die Stoa konnte […] den kynischen Wildfang, so wie er war, nicht dulden, sondern fesselte ihn wie alles, was in ihren Bereich kam, durch den λόγος” (280–281).

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Within the diatribe aptly entitled “Περὶ ἐλευθερίας”, Epictetus does proceed in a Cynical manner structurally—by heuristic recourse to other lifeforms: Consider now, in the case of the animals [‘ζῴων’], how we employ the concept of freedom [‘ἐλευθερίας’]. Men shut up tame lions in a cage, and bring them up, and feed them, and some take them around with them. And yet who will call [‘ἐρεῖ’] such a lion free [‘ἐλεύθερον’]? Is it not true that the more softly the lion lives the more slavishly [‘δουλικώτερον’] he lives? And what lion, were he to get sense and reason [‘αἴσθησιν καὶ λογισμὸν’], would care to be one of these lions. […] some [‘birds’] […] starve to death rather than endure such a life [sc. of captivity], while even such as live, barely do so, and suffer and pine away, and if ever they find any opening [‘παρεῳγμένον’], make their escape [‘ἐξεπήδησεν’]. Such is their desire for physical freedom [‘τῆς φυσικῆς ἐλευθερίας’], and a life of independence [‘τοῦ αὐτόνομα’] and freedom from restraint [‘ἀκώλυτα’]. […] That is why we shall call free only [‘μόνα ἐροῦμεν ἐλεύθερα’] those animals which do not submit to captivity [‘τῆν ἅλωσιν οὐ φέρει’], but escape by dying as soon as they are captured [‘ἀποθανόντα διέφυγεν’]. So also Diogenes says somewhere: ‘The one sure way to secure freedom [‘μηχανὴν πρὸς ἐλευθερίαν’] is to die cheerfully [‘τὸ εὐκόλως ἀποθνῄσκειν’]’; and to the Persian king he writes: ‘You cannot enslave the Athenian State any more than you can enslave the fish […], for if you lay hold of one of them, it dies[’][.] (“Disc. III–IV” 250– 253, IV.i.24–31)144

As above—regarding martial, domestic, cultural, climatic (especially maritime) imagery—the Stoic diatribist ties in with what anyone in his (partly uneducated) audience might know or have seen. Apart from the animal everybody will be familiar with, lions and birds are expedient for the Epictetian purpose—in that the one tends to be much stronger than any ordinary man; while the other has a natural ability humankind has been dreaming of since time immemorial. Contingency permits taking perspectives.145 For not only may any (noetic, physical) state be conceived of as potentially else (or not at all). It also seems feasible to virtually transfer one’s own capacities (or acquired assessments) to others for an experiment of thought—like a theoretically minded predator.146 Epictetus will apply the latter, in order to render plausible the reverse process—that of taking a lion’s or bird’s instinctive behavior as indicative for

|| Likewise Schopenhauer (as to Arrian’s Epictetus): “so ist auch der Kynismus ganz verfälscht, durch die Lehre, daß der Kyniker es hauptsächlich um Andrer Willen seyn solle […]. Wie fern liegt doch Dies vom Selbstvergnügen der alten ächten Kyniker!” (“Fragmente” 61, §6, ‘Stoiker’). 144 “αἴσθησιν καὶ λογισμὸν” seems to signify ‘sense with reason’, ‘intellectual perception’, ‘a faculty for (consciously) reflecting on impressions’. On Diogenes, lions, slavery, see D. Laertius (Lives II. 76–77, VI.75); as to facing death impavidly, Mayfield (Artful 27–28; 43, 43n.; 70–72). 145 For this process and applications, see ch. 12, herein. 146 The lion had already been treated to human measures by the attribution of ‘slavishness’.

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further animals (with a particular mammal in mind, of course). In a sense, nature’s ‘necessities’ are turned into transferrable sign(al)s; and vice versa. The slightest gap on any side (“παρεῳγμένον”) should suffice for a fowl to fly away—and it surely will. Metonymico-metaphorically, the Stoic’s open door is thus brought into play, and justified as ‘katà phýsin’—not to mention the insinuated delicacy that homines fabri also have a toolmaking capacity. With this natural setup, the time for introducing the arch-Cynic seems ripe. The words put in his mouth pointedly recapitulate and intensify the previous slant. For fish are vividly unable to live (long) apart from their habitat—without water, in the open air.147 The existence of ponds and tubs is prudently omitted; to say nothing of the fact that most humans—and especially these seafaring Athenians—would probably be more plausibly compared to amphibians. Even so, a peculiar word in the Diogenical sermocinatio still smacks of the Dog’s smirkful irreverence. It is precisely the one modifying the inevitable—in a rather un-Stoic manner (“εὐκόλως”).148 For what the Cynic practices is an artfully willful affirmation of this world, his particular life—in all its aspects.149

|| 147 From a similarly Stoicizing source comes a claim conceiving of Diogenes qua “asserting that the manner of life he lived [‘τὸν αὐτὸν χαρακτῆρα τοῦ βίου λέγων διεξάγειν’] was the same as that of Heracles when he preferred liberty to everything [‘μηδὲν ἐλευθερίας προκρίνων’]” (in: D. Laertius Lives II. 72–73, VI.71). See Schopenhauer (WWV II. 178, §16, ‘Ueber den praktischen Gebrauch der Vernunft und den Stoicismus’); Hirzel (280n.). Discerning the general ground swell of Ancient Cynicism (e.g. at 280–281), several of said scholar’s other comments overtly Stoicize, genealogize, and (arguably) use diverse sources sans the discursive provisos requisite. For the Dog and fish, cf. D. Laertius (Lives II. 30–31, VI.29). 148 In this regard, Hirzel’s tendency seems adequate (while certain value judgments merit being quarantined): “Was solchen Philosophen, die wie Platon sich den Menschen gebunden dachten an ein großes Ganze[s] politischer und religiöser Art, erst abgerungen werden mußte, die Erlaubnis des Selbstmordes, das gaben andere, die den Menschen aus allem Zusammenhang loslösten und auf eigene Füße stellten, ohne weiteres zu, ja mußten es für den Menschen als dessen gutes Vorrecht fordern; für sie war die Voraussetzung, auf der jenes Verbot ruhte, […] gar nicht vorhanden. In dieser Weise den Menschen zu isolieren war […] ein Hauptzug im Bilde der Zeit […][;] die Kyniker [‘haben ihn’] […] durch ihr Treiben besonders deutlich zum Ausdruck gebracht. Will man aus ihrem Gebaren schließen, so war das Recht des Menschen, sich selbst den Tod zu geben, in ihren Augen ein unbedingtes, und mit den Mitteln ihrer Philosophie ließ es sich auch kaum einschränken” (279–280). “Welches Gesetz hätte einen Kyniker hindern können? Wem die Freiheit das höchste Gut war […] der durfte sich […] nicht durch irgendwelches Verbot des Selbstmordes einschränken lassen. Die Anekdote, nach der Diogenes die Zumutung des Selbstmordes ablehnte (Älian V. H. 10,11), zeigt nur, wie er auch nach der anderen Seite sich seiner Freiheit zu wahren wußte” (280n.). Faced with a world of countless contingencies, radical affirmation will likely conduce to a tendency for having it

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In D. Laertius, a certain variant of the line Epictetus attributes to Diogenes is given to Antisthenes: “Being asked what was the height of human bliss [‘τί μακαριώτατον ἐν ἀνθρώποις’], he replied, ‘To die happy [‘τὸ εὐτυχοῦντα ἀποθανεῖν’]’” (Lives II. 6–7, VI.5). While likely crafted to discredit an ailing (or dying) student of Socrates, the above does tie in with the ensuing anecdote.150 It features both of the former—as well as an enduring resistance to suicide: when Antisthenes cried out, ‘Who will release me from these pains?’ [‘Diogenes’] replied, ‘This’, showing him […] [a] dagger. ‘I said […] from my pains [‘τῶν πόνων’], not from life [‘οὐ τοῦ ζῆν’]’. It was thought that he showed some weakness in bearing his malady through love of life [‘φιλοζωίας’]. (Lives II. 20–21, VI.18–19)151

|| both ways—resp. the cake, while eating it (the latter quite literally, as per D. Laertius Lives II. 46–47, VI.44, with 56–57, VI.55–56). See Mayfield (Artful 45; 49–50, 49n.; 54–55). 149 Heinrich states the needful in lapidary fashion: “Der Kyniker will überleben” (142). Cf. Rist (238); and spec. Niehues-Pröbsting: “Der Freiheitsbegriff der stoischen Moral Epiktets ist ein absolut verinnerlichter; er rechnet unter die Gegenstände, die sich der Gewalt des einzelnen entziehen, das Leben selbst, weshalb der freiwillige Verzicht darauf, der Suizid, nach stoischer Anschauung gerechtfertigt sein kann. Diese völlige Verinnerlichung der Freiheit und damit des Glücks […] paßt nicht zum Diogenes der Anekdoten und dem in ihnen zutage tretenden Prinzip der animalischen Selbstbehauptung” (Kynismus 231). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 13; 54–55; passim). 150 On his Socratic apprenticeship, see D. Laertius (Lives II. 4–5, VI.2; 14–15, VI.14). As to the ‘cui bono’, contrast the above with this: “It would seem that the most manly [‘ἀνδρωδεστάτης’] section of the Stoic School owed its origin to him [sc. Antisthenes]” (Lives II. 14–15, VI.14). 151 Nietzsche notes—“Eine ganz tiefsinnige Aeusserung: dem Lebenstriebe selbst kann man mit einem Dolche nicht beikommen, er aber ist das eigentliche Leiden. Es ist ersichtlich, dass der Cyniker am Leben hängt, mehr als die andern Philosophen: ‘der kürzeste Weg zum Glück’ ist so viel als ‘Lust am Leben an sich’” (“griech. Litt.” 196, III.11). On the above, cf. Hirzel (280n.); and—as to Nietzsche’s reading—Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 181–182). Generally, see this characteristically Gorgianic turn: “For just as different drugs draw different humors from [the] body, and some put an end to sickness [‘νόσου’], some to life [‘βίου’], so some speeches induce”—etc. (“Helen” 760–761, 49.14). Naturally, the suicide of others often meets with— characteristically cynical—affirmation: “Seeing some women hanged from an olive-tree, he [sc. Diogenes] said, ‘Would that every tree bore similar fruit’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 53, VI.52; with a twist, Seneca’s “Pendet inde libertas”, “De Ira” 294, III.xv.4). Generally, cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (Kynismus 174–184, spec. 181, 181n.; 231, 247); Mayfield (Artful 31, spec. 66n.). Contrast Rist’s questionable views of Cynicism on this point (237–238). He takes the Diogenical “‘Either Reason or the Rope’” (237; also 238, 253) at face value—which tempts him into claiming: “they [sc. ‘the Cynics’] were ready to advocate suicide for quite trivial reasons” (237). As to “λόγον ἢ βρόχον”, see D. Laertius (Lives II. 26, VI.24; with Hirzel 280n.; Mayfield Artful 34n.; 424).

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10.2.4 Senecan Liberty (Not Without Epicurus) qui scit mori, nil posse fortunam [.] —Seneca (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.7)152

The author in question is a highly sophistic(ated) stylist. His basic assumption seems to be: one cannot argue with rhetorical effects (nor without). As will hold good for all who are not incapable of adopting other (not to say, evil) views provisionally, he—often ostentatiously—displays considerable competence in tentative perspective taking. Being contingent, assumptions may vary. Inter alia, this will apply to the topic at issue; and perhaps especially, in view of a dynamic tendency toward outperformance in oratory and life’s drama. By contrast to the art—where onsets are at one’s disposition also—the vital time for actively showing, losing, veiling, putting in, averting, or saving one’s face (to say naught of stuffing and painting it) typically excludes the prooímion. Yet both are ultimately end-focused—whether with regard to an audience, or not. Quasi distinctive of ‘Modern’ societies (soi-disant), an escamotage of death is as unfashionable with Ancient philosophers as are they to the aforesaid. In certain coteries or singulars, a theatrical drive toward characteristic lives is ever on display, hence the latter constantly under review—notably their last instants on stage. Nor need one expect crucifixions or Empedoclean exits each time.153

|| 152 “Fortune […] has no power over one who knows how to die” (Ep. 66–92. 59, LXX.7). Variations on this dictum comprise: “Qui mori didicit, servire dedidicit” (Ep. 1–65. 190, XXVI.10). “Cogi qui potest nescit mori” (“Hercules” 80, II.426). See subchs. 10.1, 10.2.4, 10.3.1. 153 Not without dispute is it said that “Empedocles […] set out on his way to Etna; then […] he plunged [‘ἐναλέσθαι’] into the fiery craters and disappeared, his intention being to confirm the report that he had become a god. Afterwards the truth was known, because one of his slippers was thrown up in the flames” (D. Laertius Lives II. 382–385, VIII.69; cf. “εἰς τὸ πῦρ ἐναλέσθαι”, VIII.70; 380–381, VIII.67). Blumenberg notes: “Er wollte den Zeitgenossen auf geheimnisvolle Art entschwinden, in Richtung aufs Göttliche, mit dem er sein Lebtag kokettiert hatte. […] Antike Quellen haben oft ungeahnte, in Jahrhunderten herausgefilterte Feinheiten. Das sollte man […] an der Quelle genießen. Dort […] liest man mit Überraschung, die Wahrheit über den Verschlungenen sei dadurch zutage gekommen, daß eine seiner ehernen Sandalen zurückkam. Welche Finesse! Wie hatte sich Hephaistos gerächt, indem er den Usurpator der göttlichen Ehren nicht nur in die Unterwelt zog, sondern dort auch humpeln ließ” (Verführbarkeit 199– 200; briefly: “Glossen [1983]” 29; “Frage” 33). Blent with a Thaletic element (generally thereto: “Sturz” passim; Lachen passim), see Horace’s version—when depicting “a crazy [‘vesanum’] poet” (“Ars Poetica” 486–487, v.455): “then if, like a fowler with his eyes upon blackbirds, he [should] fall into a well or pit [‘in puteum foveamve’], despite his far-reaching cry [….] not a soul will care to pull him out. And if one should care to lend aid and let down a rope, ‘How do you know’, I’ll say, ‘but that he threw himself in on purpose, and does not wish to be saved?’

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For although “[it] has always proven difficult to doubt those who are able to also add a grand death to grand word[s]” (Blumenberg Verführbarkeit 200; trans. dsm), it is still the latter as remain indeed—in cases where the former are recalled at all (see “memoriae traditur”: Seneca Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.14).154 While hardly alone, Stoics—or such as would so seem (in order to stay here slightly longer)—may tend to have a peculiar penchant regarding such matters. Depending on those present, anticlimactic finishes with finer touches might be more effectual—notably when chancing upon recipients as happen to be experienced rhetoricians (bona or mala fide). In this respect, Seneca would appear as an ideal bystander: Have I not seen [‘spectavi’] many men break the thread of life [‘abrumpentes vitam’]? I have […]; but those have more weight with me who approach death without any loathing for life [‘qui ad mortem veniunt sine odio vitae’], letting death in [‘et admittunt illam’], […] not pulling it towards them [‘non adtrahunt’]. (Ep. 1–65. 220–221, XXX.15)155

The figurative vector is marked—especially by contrast to Arrian’s Platonizing Epictetus: what is a way out in the latter amounts to answering the door in Seneca; while not exactly invited, the guest is not unwelcome.156

|| and I’ll tell the tale of the Sicilian poet’s end. Empedocles, eager to be thought a god immortal, coolly leapt into burning Aetna. Let poets have the right and power to destroy themselves [‘sit ius liceatque perire poetis’]. Who saves a man against his will does the same as murder him [‘invitum qui servat, idem facit occidenti’]. Not for the first time has he done this, nor if he is pulled out will he at once become a human being and lay aside his craving for a notable death [‘nec (…) ponet famosae mortis amorem’]” (“Ars Poetica” 488–489, v.458–469; with 488n. as to Thales). Generally, see Blumenberg’s incisive remark: “Was nicht delegiert werden kann, dafür hat niemand die Kompetenz. Nur ich selbst kann daher mich zur Unperson erklären, indem ich mich auslösche. Deshalb kann auch an niemand das Recht delegiert worden sein, einen Selbstmörder zwangsweise ins Leben zurückzubefördern” (Beschreibung 508–509; plus 790). 154 “Es fiel immer schwer, an denen zu zweifeln, die zum großen Wort auch noch den großen Tod fügen können”. Cf. Blumenberg (“beginnen die ‘großen Worte’ tröstlich wohl zu klingen”, “Staatstheorie” 129); Apoc 13:5 (Vulgate); not to mention Mt 27:46, Mk 15:34, Lk 23:46 (or Jn 19:30). See subch. 11.1.1; and Gracián’s dictum (Oráculo 212–213, §202); glossed in subch. 8.5.2. 155 Intratextually, this is induced by Bassus’ example (see “circumspiciendum”, “conspectu”, “spectat”, “spectare”, Ep. 1–65. 212, XXX.2–3). As to Seneca on the latter, cf. Griffin (198). 156 A similar drift: “In aperto nos natura custodit” (Ep. 66–92. 68–70, LXX.24). Being always already out in the open, it makes no difference whither one goes. Needless to say, the orator uses the familiar imagery also; cf. e.g. “ex hoc domicilio exeundum” (Ep. 66–92. 64, LXX.16); “patet exitus” (“De Prov.” 44, VI.7). Epictetus is speaking (and Arrian writing) after Seneca, of course. The comparison is heuristically instructive—perchance in the direction of a certain tendency toward disambiguation in the Stoic dogmatist, when contrasted with the rhetorician.

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Then again, that litotes might not be needful. For it also pleases the orator to take up and qualify a line traditionally ascribed to Antisthenes: Before I became old[,] I tried to live well [‘curavi, ut bene viverem’]; now that I am old, I shall try to die well [‘ut bene moriar’]; but dying well means dying gladly [‘bene autem mori est libenter mori’]. (Ep. 1–65. 424–427, LXI.2)157

In keeping with his voluntaristic inclination outright, Seneca immediately links the above to a virtual freedom of will: See to it that you never do anything unwillingly [‘invitus’]. That which is bound to be a necessity if you rebel, is not a necessity if you desire it [‘volenti necessitas non est’]. […] he who takes his orders gladly [‘qui imperia libens excipit’], escapes the bitterest part of slavery [‘servitutis’],—doing what one does not want to do [‘facere quod nolit’]. (Ep. 1–65. 426–427, LXI.3)

As a favored member of an empire sustained by (enforced) ‘service’ (“Omnis vita servitium est”, “de tranquillitate” 251, X.3), taking the perspective of those most affected thereby would likely suggest itself to an attentive thinker, artful orator. For the latter’s conditio sine qua non will be a sense of positional contingency: his (societal) status might be otherwise (including practically inexistent).158 Rhetoric being downright polyfunctional, the ensuing sample might be seen as simultaneously sympathetic (in a sober way), and nonchalantly calculated— with a view to maximum (shock) effect: taken captive while still a stripling, […] [a ‘Spartan lad’] kept crying in his Doric dialect, ‘I will not be a slave! [‘non serviam’]’[—]and he made good his word [‘et verbis fidem inposuit’]; for the very first time he was ordered to perform a menial [‘servili’] and degrading service [‘contumelioso ministerio’],—and the command was to fetch a chamberpot [‘vas obscenum’],—he dashed out his brains against the wall [‘inlisum parieti caput rupit’]. So near at hand is freedom [‘Tam prope libertas est’], and is anyone still a slave [‘et servit aliquis’]? […] Take into your own control that which is now under the control of another [‘Fac tui iuris, quod alieni est’]. Will you not borrow [‘sumes’] that boy’s courage, and say: ‘I am no slave [‘non servio’]!’ […]. You are a slave [‘servis’] to men, […] a slave to your business, […] a slave to life. For life, if courage to die be lacking, is slavery [‘Nam vita, si moriendi virtus abest, servitus est’]. (Ep. 66–92. 176–177, LXXVII.14–15)159

|| 157 Cf. D. Laertius (Lives II. 6–7, VI.5), as cited en détail above. See Kant: “ja selbst sterben in guter Laune” (qtd. in: Blumenberg Beschreibung 723)—at the latest (all living being dying). 158 On Cicero’s heuristico-preparative héxis, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 76–77, 76n.–78n.). 159 More kathólou: “ostendemus in omni servitute apertam libertati viam. […] Vides illum praecipitem locum? Illac ad libertatem descenditur. Vides illud mare, […] flumen, […] puteum? Libertas illic in imo sedet. Vides illam arborem brevem, retorridam, infelicem? Pendet inde

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Variants of this striking anecdote were not only floating in the cultural networks of Antiquity (preserved in Philo, Epictetus, Plutarch, for instance).160 Melded with a verse in the Vulgata, highpoints of Anglophone literature—Milton and Joyce—have also refunctionalized its characteristic dictum: “non serviam”.161 || libertas. Vides iugulum […], guttur […], cor tuum? Effugia servitutis sunt. […] Quaeris quod sit ad libertatem iter? Quaelibet in corpore tuo vena!” (“De Ira” 294, III.xv.3–4; cf. Rist 249, 249n.). 160 See Gummere’s gloss (Ep. 66–92. 176n.). Cf. Philo, on the “ἔθος” of a “Laconian boy”: “he submitted to such tasks as became a freeman [‘τὰς (…) ἐλευθέρας χρείας’], but stood out against those of a slavish kind [‘ταῖς (…) δουλικαῖς’], declaring that he would not be a slave [‘φάσκων οὐχὶ δουλεύσειν’]. […] he judged that death was a happier lot than his present valueless life [‘τοῦ παρόντος ἀβιώτου βίου θάνατον εὐτυχέστερον κρίνας’], and […] gladly put an end to himself [‘ἄσμενος ἑαυτὸν διεχρήσατο’]” (“Every Good Man” 74–75, §114; cf. 75n.). The trans. does not seem to live up to the rhetorical refinement of the Greek—here spec. the chiastic antithesis, bringing life and death into immediate (syntactical) proximity (plus ‘good fortune’ with the latter). See Plutarch, putting pointed last words into the lad’s mouth: “A Spartan boy […] was obedient […] in everything which he thought fitting for a free person to do [‘ἐλευθέρῳ ποιεῖν’], but when his owner bade him bring a chamber-pot, he would not brook such treatment, saying, ‘I will not be a slave [‘οὐ δουλεύσω’]’; and when the other was insistent, he went up upon the roof, and saying, ‘You will gain much by your bargain [‘ὀνήσῃ τῆς ὠνῆς’]’, he threw himself down and ended his life” (“Spartans” 406–407, 234C, §38; with 407n.). Perchance, a paronomastic pun on ‘ὄνος’ cannot be quite excluded. Brevity articulates the lad’s liberty—his very laconism, an expression of freedom. Epictetus refunctionalizes the narrative’s basic elements, in order to argue in utramque partem: “to one man it is reasonable to hold a chamber-pot for another […]; but some other man feels that it is not merely unendurable to hold such a pot himself, but even to tolerate another’s doing so” (Disc. I–II. 17, I.2.8–9). The diatribe proceeds from a Spartan sample (cf. “Lacedaemonians”, Disc. I–II. 15, I.2.2; plus 17n.). 161 See Jer 2:20 (Vulgate), out of context. In a discursively complex hypólepsis (also tying in with Homer Odyssey 1–12. 435–437, XI.488–491; cf. Hirzel 85; Mayfield Ventriloquism 165–166, 165n.–167n.), Milton’s infernal hero declares: “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven!” (“Paradise Lost” 10, I.263). Incidentally, said ‘Satan’—in his downright ‘Machiavellian’ manner (see V. Kahn “Machiavellian Rhet. [2000]” 225–229, spec. 226)—appears to be articulating his position with a Stoicizing tongue or undertone (discursively speaking): “The mind is its own place and in itself / Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven” (“Paradise Lost” 10, I.254– 255). “For the mind and spirit remains / Invincible” (“Paradise Lost” 7, I.139–140). Cf. his prideand willful choice (“that fixed mind / And high disdain”, “th’ unconquerable will”) of godless distance over (what he does perceive as) dishonor: “to bow and sue for grace / With suppliant knee […] That were low indeed, / That were an ignominy and shame beneath / This downfall” (“Paradise Lost” 6, I.97–98, I.106, I.111–116). By recourse to several aspects of this tradition, Joyce uses the motto at issue as a sort of leitmotif. First, a preacher sermonizes: “Theologians consider that it was the sin of pride, the sinful thought conceived in an instant: non serviam: I will not serve. That instant was his ruin” (103, III.554–557; cf. 103n.; the verbal economy being delicate). The words are taken up by the novel’s hero: “I will not serve, answered Stephen. / — That remark was made before, Cranly said calmly. / —It is made behind now, said Stephen hotly” (211, V.2297–2299; cf. 211n.). This hypólepsis is elaborated on later: “Look here, Cranly,

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Anyone might know that such a declaration of independence is typical of children at a certain age. Thus it is significant that this particular is not simply young, but also Spartan—deservedly famed for speaking little, while always walking their talk (verbal equivocations, martial subterfuges notwithstanding). Above and beyond the (moral) philosophical implications, Seneca’s rhetorical disposition requires this aspect of consistency (“et verbis fidem inposuit”) to render probable the shattering ultimacy of said boy’s action.162 The salient sententia framing this anecdote aligns with other terms from the same etymological family (“non serviam”, “servili”, “servit”, “non servio”, “servis” thrice, “servitus”). This frequent repetition with variation from onset to end directs the reader’s attention to the one constant in this textual economy— placed (precisely) at its center. Not only is “libertas” the syntactical fulcrum and semantic antithesis to all that thralldom verbally evoked in its surroundings. It is also the sole and solid foundation of said lad’s approach to life and death. The form reinforces the content; or rather, the former actually crafts the latter to begin with. The hypoleptico-vicarious move (“sumes”) from the boy to the recipient— meaning, the (epistolary) interlocutor, as well as the speaker himself—is initially effected via the devices of rhetorical question (“et servit aliquis?”), imperative (“Fac”), and a combination of both. The latter takes up the striking sentence as a tentative sermocinatio (“Non sumes pueri spiritum, ut dicas ‘non servio’?”: Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.15).163 Substantiated by a pivotal liberty, this interpersonal ‘assumption’ of a potential for self-induced leave-taking is then capped by a highly refined general maxim.164

|| he said. You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe whether it call itself my home, my fatherland or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use, silence, exile and cunning” (218, V.2573–2580). See chs. 7 and 13, herein. 162 As in language, so in matter. Blumenberg links Socratic and Stoicizing deaths via the aspect of consistency: “Es ist nicht gleichgültig, welche Tode die Philosophen sterben. Es genügt nicht, daß sie auf honorige Art der eigenen Sache treu hinscheiden: des Bestehens vor den Totenrichtern gewiß wie Sokrates oder unerschrocken-ungerührt wie Horazens Stoiker im Weltuntergang. Manches geht nicht an, wie ein Ertrinken des Philosophen im obligaten Schiffbruch” (Verführbarkeit 200). Consequently, certain deaths will seem implausible (even if factual). On the whole, cf. Nietzsche’s expedient synopsis (“griech. Litt.” 193–198, III.11). 163 As a regola generale: “Nulla servitus turpior est quam voluntaria” (Ep. 1–65. 310, XLVII.17; with Fothergill-Payne Seneca 50). Not being the rule, exceptions will. 164 “Nam vita, si moriendi virtus abest, servitus est” (Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.15); inter alia: the con- and assonating, partly paronomastic tricolon “vita”, “virtus”, “servitus”; the internal echo

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Starting from a peculiar case, the above elicits its universal implications— hence possible reapplications. Rather than tying in with the grand exemplars everyone knows, said rhetorico-inductive process accentuates its taking some enslaved lad qua paradigmatic point of departure.165 Beyond, beneath Seneca’s skillfully calculated aesthetics of effect (not to say proclivity for sensationalist grandstanding), this choice of paragon has discursive dimensions. In structural terms, proceeding from a nameless boy may well resonate with the Diogenical modus operandi et pensandi, bearing in mind the latter’s frequent recourse to what is ‘normally’ scorned, shamed, deprecated (in public).166 While his very refinement may yield the impression of a certain jouissance being involved, Seneca’s otherwise sober discourse cannot openly sanction the extremes of crudity, animality associated therewith (to say nothing of excessive vulgarity).167 Then again, he will indeed—if a superior purpose seems to be served: “the foulest death is preferable to the fairest slavery” (whatever that may be; Ep. 66–92. 68–69, LXX.21).168 || of “est” in the preceding “abest”; the graphico-phonetic density of ‹i› (resp. /ī/, /i/, /i:/, /ı/, as the case may be) at first, and ‹s› toward the end; the consonance of the initial syllables ‹mor-›, ‹vir-›, ‹ser-›; the centrality of the polysemous and -functional—as well as discursively (spec. moral philosophically) suggestive—term “virtus”. 165 Cf. “Exempla nunc magnorum virorum me tibi iudicas relaturum? Puerorum referam” (Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.14). Expectations may be exploited for effect. See subch. 13.4.2, herein. 166 The resp. anecdotes are almost legion (cf. e.g. D. Laertius Lives II. 25, VI.22, “a mouse”, also at 41, VI.40; 31, VI.29, “fishes”; 39, VI.37, “a child”; 43, VI.41, “sheep”; 45, VI.44, “a tarantula”; 57, VI.55, “ Maltese”, “a Molossian”; 61, VI.58, donkeys; 61, VI.60, “Phryne”; 63, VI.61, “dogs”—also passim; etc.). In the present context, see spec. “Being asked where in Greece he saw good men, he replied, ‘Good men nowhere, but good boys at Lacedaemon’” (Lives II. 29, VI.27; plus 61, VI.59). Generally: “Some one having reproached him for going into dirty places, his reply was that the sun too visits cesspools without being defiled” (Lives II. 65, VI.63). As to Diogenical induction, cf. Mayfield (“Philosophical Animal” 59–62). 167 On the Dog in said regard, see Mayfield (Artful 13; 27–28; 53–55; passim). With respect to Seneca’s potentially cynical poetics, one might note the quasi onomatopoetic “parieti caput rupit” (Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.14), in the Spartan’s case; the phrase “secessit ad exonerandum corpus” (Ep. 66–92. 66, LXX.20; with the parallel “ad emundanda obscena”, the etymology of “secretum”), in the German’s. In its context, the latter may well amount to a blend of kátharsis and materialism—at the expense of an underhanded Platonism. The thorough, relentless, utter rhetoricization of any sentence and every phrase on Seneca’s part will conduce to said or such effects: whatever matter he may be treating, its reception is always already inflected by the prevalence of his form. Should the content be problematic (as in the present cases and overall topic), the impression of a certain cynical relish could hardly be spirited away. 168 “praeferendam esse spurcissimam mortem servituti mundissimae” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.21). He had hedged the matter afore (as its graphic quality could seem undue): “parum munde et parum decenter; quid est stultius quam fastidiose mori?” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.20).

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A case comparable to the above—dealing with another form of thralldom and ‘vileness’—inverts the tendency of the base matter, in order to arrive at the ultimate outcome even so.169 The means might differ; the message remains: there was lately in a training-school for wild-beast gladiators a German [‘in ludo bestiariorum unus e Germanis’], who was making ready for the morning exhibition [‘spectacula’]; he withdrew in order to relieve himself [‘secessit ad exonerandum corpus’],—the only thing which he was allowed to do in secret and without the presence of a guard [‘sine custode secretum’]. While so engaged, he seized the stick of wood, tipped with a sponge, which was devoted to the vilest uses [‘ad emundanda obscena’], and stuffed it, just as it was, down his throat; thus he blocked up his windpipe, and choked the breath from his body. That was truly to insult death [‘Hoc fuit morti contumeliam facere’]! (Ep. 66–92. 66–69, LXX.20)170

Like the Spartan—educated by his superb culture to decide for death rather than dishonor—a Germanic Barbarian will never submit or defer to heteronomy (thus the ethos traditionally ascribed). The former shows himself out, precisely so as not to come into contact with another’s feces; the latter refunctionalizes a device usually employed for no other purpose. While the Laconian lad prefers immediate suicide to (even a single instance of) undignified servitude, the freedom-loving German will not surrender to any type of dependence or captivity—evacuating himself on his own terms, by any means and all.171 The consequence is the same.172 From Seneca’s Stoicizing stance—and not without rhetorical relish—higher reason justifies a ‘virtuously’ self-inflicted departure: “death can be despised even by the most despised class of men [‘a contemptissimis posse contemni’]” (Ep. 66–92. 68–69, LXX.22).173 Not inconspicuously, this problematic—and rather graphic—topic is also a pretext for displaying eloquence. Yet such cynical

|| 169 As above, Seneca articulates the angle of contemporaneous Roman society: “Vilissimae sortis homines” (Ep. 66–92. 66, LXX.19); “sordidis exemplis” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.22). 170 The two patterns are not only connected de re, but also by a verbally hypoleptic interplay; here spec. “obscenum”, “contumelioso” (Ep. 66–92. 176, LXXVII.14); “obscena” (Ep. 66–92. 66, LXX.20), “contumeliam” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.20). 171 Cf. “Ille vir magnus est, qui mortem sibi non tantum imperavit, sed invenit” (Ep. 66–92. 70, LXX.25). Else, the (no) one who keeps cheating it. Cf. Homer (Odyssey 1–12. 342, 9.364–370). 172 Seneca stresses: “fati varios esse accessus, finem eundem” (Ep. 66–92. 70, LXX.27). 173 As in the example of the Spartan boy, Seneca’s point will be that suicide is not limited to exceptional men (“Cato”, say): “Non est quod existimes magnis tantum viris hoc robur fuisse, quo servitutis humanae claustra perrumperent” (Ep. 66–92. 66, LXX.19; cf. “vincula servitutis abrumpat”, 62, LXX.12). The problem with the former (“Catones Scipionesque et alios”) being precisely their egregiousness: “supra imitationem positos putamus” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.22).

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playfulness cannot obliterate the fact that freedom—and specifically of will—is the Roman orator’s ultima ratio (literally speaking).174 Like the Spartan, the German ‘elects’—and actually makes—his own ‘fate’.175 Being no ‘Catonizers’ themselves, they are the more expedient ‘models’ for the vicarious experience of absenting oneself.176 In either case, the means is “sheer” will (“ingenti impetu”, “vi sua”, Ep. 66–92. 66–67, LXX.19); and the aim liberty: “nothing but the will need postpone death [‘ad moriendum nihil aliud in mora esse quam velle’]” (Ep. 66–92. 68–69, LXX.21).177 “When a man desires to […] take his departure, nothing stands in his way [‘Nihil obstat erumpere et exire cupienti’]” (Ep. 66–92. 68–71, LXX.24)—as in love, so in passing.178 All means—force or fraud—are legitimate, since the end (a decided freedom) is not subject to negotiation: “If you do not lack the courage [‘animus’], you will not lack the cleverness [‘ingenium’], to die” (Ep. 66–92. 70–71, LXX.24). Lest the base be lost along the verbal way, the peroratio retenders that voluntaristic wolf (“placet”) in the Stoic pelt (“ratio”): “Reason, too, advises us to die, if we may, according to our taste” (Ep. 66–92. 72–73, LXX.28).179 Should this more pleasing path turn out to be a knotty aporía, there is always the Alexandrian mode:

|| 174 Rist plays along (unawares): “It does not matter how one kills oneself—a German choked himself with a lavatory sponge—as long as one dies well. A self-inflicted death is the assertion of human freedom” (247). Hardly would he have ‘died well’. What matters is the bottom line. 175 Cf. “O virum fortem, o dignum, cui fati daretur electio!” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.20–21). 176 (See Ep. 66–92. 66–69, LXX.19 and 22). Cf. Diderot’s (méchante) formulation: “catoniser” (“Neveu” 71; with Mayfield Artful 310n.; 321, 321n.). 177 Such ‘escape into safety’ is paronomastico-euphoniously reinforced (“ingenti impetu in tutum evaserunt”); sheer will stands in for choice (“ad arbitrium suum”, “eligere”)—should the latter’s liberty be obstructed or limited by the circumstances (Ep. 66–92. 66, LXX.19). Generally, cf. Rist: “it is Seneca’s opinion that suicide is an ultimate expression of what is in one’s power, and of the freedom of the human will. […] freedom will be the ability to look after oneself fully; and this kind of freedom is best exemplified for Seneca in the right to choose whether to live or to die” (130; with 131, 231). “Seneca regards suicide as the ultimate justification of man’s freedom, perhaps even as the only genuinely free act” (233; “the supremely free act”, 247). 178 In view of the verbal hypólepsis, plus the affine term “cupienti”—not to mention that such inversiveness would hardly have been beyond Seneca—this may well be antithetically alluding to Ovid’s all-purpose “Principiis obsta” (“Remedia” 184, v.91): the last remedy being finales, no need to hinder them artificially. For a similar process, see the uptake of Virgil (“et vivere rapto, “Aeneid VII–XII.” 156, IX.613; plus Ovid Metamorph. I–VIII. 12, I.144) at the end of the same epistle: “Iniuriosum est rapto vivere, at contra pulcherrimum mori rapto” (Seneca Ep. 66–92. 72, LXX.28; with Gummere’s gloss at 72n., but against his drift). Cf. subch. 6.6.1.1, herein. 179 “Eadem illa ratio monet, ut, si licet, moriaris quemadmodum placet” (Ep. 66–92. 72, LXX.28). Cf. Kablitz on a “use of reason” for an enduring purpose (“Senses” 223; with 224, 227).

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if this cannot be, she [sc. ‘ratio’] advises us to die according to our ability, and to seize upon whatever means shall offer itself for doing violence to ourselves [‘ad vim adferendam tibi invadas’]. (Ep. 66–92. 72–73, LXX.28)

Downright pressing home the advantage of the only time, during which he is granted the slightest privacy—the latter likely for the same (ultimately olfactory) reasons as had deterred the Spartan—the Germanic captive absconds, for good: a will to liberty, at all costs.180 Seneca’s voluntarism seems to decidedly exceed—and ultimately cannot be aligned with—Stoicizing tendencies (let alone Plato).181 What is called ‘god’, ‘necessity’, ‘Nature’ in the latter (respectively ‘theós’, ‘anánke’, ‘phýsis’), the philosopher of self-will turns into a consummate affirmation of one’s own (not to say, whim).182 The most distinctive statement to this effect may well be this:

|| 180 By contrast, “non omni pretio vita emenda est” (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.7). See these willful words, in the argument’s universalizing share: “dilectum”, “liberetur” (Ep. 66–92. 70, LXX.24). On absconding: “effugit” (Ep. 66–92. 68, LXX.23), “effugio”—the latter in a sermocinatio for another ‘barbarian’ (Ep. 66–92. 70, LXX.26). Since Seneca uses terms as they suit and serve his (rhetorical) purpose (incl. euphony), one will also come across the ensuing: “Vir fortis ac sapiens non fugere debet e vita, sed exire” (Ep. 1–65. 180, XXIV.25). Circumstances permitting. 181 Rist logs “voluntarist tendencies […] in Seneca (and in Epictetus)” (213)—but downplays them as due “to the exigencies of spiritual direction” (213). This set of issues will also align with his rejecting the former while exalting the latter (“Seneca’s exoticism” versus an Epictetian “return to older paths”, 251; cf. 252; his value judgments are suspect). As to the above, see this quasi Socratizing rationalization along Seneca’s way: “quanto honestius mori discunt homines quam occidere” (Ep. 66–92. 70, LXX.27). Cf. Plato (“Gorgias” 334–335, 469B–C; 356–357, 475C– D; 474–475, 509C–D; 530–531, 527B; throughout); with Eden (“Refutation” 62; 66; passim). 182 This surely is not to say that Seneca would not take up and toy with the traditional terms, formally; but their sense (invariably) shifts in his contexts. Cf. e.g. “Quandoque aut natura spiritum repetet aut ratio dimittet, […] exibo” (“de vita beata” 150, XX.5). Perchance, the most striking case in this respect will be the ensuing. Having stated at the outset “I shall be pleading the cause of the gods” (“causam deorum agam”, “De Prov.” 2–3, I.1), Seneca puts words into the mouth of the deity—meaning, ‘Nature’ (plus an express “Puta itaque deum dicere” qua proviso at “De Prov.” 42, VI.3): “Ante omnia cavi, ne quid vos teneret invitos; patet exitus. Si pugnare non vultis, licet fugere. Ideo ex omnibus rebus quas esse vobis necessarias volui nihil feci facilius quam mori. Prono animam loco posui; trahitur, adtendite modo et videbitis quam brevis ad libertatem et quam expedita ducat via. Non tam longas in exitu vobis quam intrantibus moras posui” (“De Prov.” 44, VI.7; with Rist 247). In other words: the conditio sine qua non of freedom is here delegated to a ‘superior principle’ qua causative. As a matter of course, the latter might be stated pro forma—and then disregarded for all that follows. At least in Seneca (albeit hardly only), such is quite ostensively a rhetorical act of legitimization: whatever may be (re)described as ‘katà phýsin’ is eo ipso ‘good’—velle being natural. Generally thereto, see Blumenberg (“Selbsterhaltung” 161–164; 201n.–202n.).

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You can find men who have gone so far as to profess wisdom and yet maintain that one should not offer violence to one’s own life [‘qui vim adferendam vitae suae negent’], and hold it accursed [‘nefas iudicent’] for a man to be the means of his own destruction [‘ipsum interemptorem sui fieri’]; we should wait, say they, for the end decreed by nature [‘expectandum esse exitum, quem natura decrevit’]. But one who says this does not see that he is shutting off the path to freedom [‘libertatis viam’]. The best thing which eternal law [‘aeterna lex’] ever ordained was that it allowed to us one entrance [‘unum introitum’] into life, but many exits [‘exitus multos’]. Must I await the cruelty [‘crudelitatem’] either of disease or of man, when I can depart [‘exire’] through the midst of torture [‘tormenta’], and shake off my troubles? This is the one reason why we cannot complain of life: it keeps no one against his will [‘neminem tenet’]. Humanity is well situated, because no man is unhappy except by his own fault. Live, if you so desire [‘Placet; vive’]; if not, you may return to the place whence you came [‘Non placet; licet eo reverti, unde venisti’]. […] a gaping wound is not necessary; a lancet will open the way to that great freedom [‘aperitur ad illam magnam libertatem via’], and tranquillity [‘securitas’] can be purchased at the cost of a pin-prick. (Ep. 66–92. 64–65, LXX.14–16)183

|| 183 Cf. Pohlenz (Stoa 147; 369n.); Rist (130)—who claims: “The seventieth letter […] is virtually a paean to suicide” (247). It may be expedient to précis the course of Seneca’s argument leading up to this segment, which breaks with the tradition rather ostentatiously—after having cited much of it; and prior to displacing even Cato in favor of a Germanic captive (of all people, from a Roman viewpoint; see Ep. 66–92. 66–67, LXX.19–20; discussed above). Said path shows his poly-perspectivally oratorical (rather than dogmatic, let alone ‘orthodox’) treatment of the theme: “vita […] non semper retinenda est. Non enim vivere bonum est, sed bene vivere. Itaque sapiens vivit, quantum debet, non quantum potest. […] Cogitat semper, qualis vita, non quanta sit. Si multa occurrunt molesta et tranquillitatem turbantia, emittit se. Nec hoc tantum in necessitate ultima facit, sed cum primum illi coepit suspecta esse fortuna […]. Nihil existimat sua referre, faciat finem an accipiat, tardius fiat an citius. […] Citius mori aut tardius ad rem non pertinet, bene mori aut male ad rem pertinet. Bene autem mori est effugere male vivendi periculum. […] non omni pretio vita emenda est. […] qui scit mori, nil posse fortunam” (Ep. 66– 92. 56–58, LXX.4–7). Said focus on ‘quality’ is as characteristic of a rhetorical approach (spec. Seneca’s) as is arguing ‘et in utramque partem’ (subchs. 4.3, 8.4): “Aliquando tamen, etiam si certa mors instabit et destinatum sibi supplicium sciet, non commodabit poenae suae manum; sibi commodaret. Stultitia est timore mortis mori” (Ep. 66–92. 60, LXX.8; with 60n.). The harder to swallow, the more varnish is requisite. Gummere glosses: “if he must choose between helping along his punishment by suicide, or helping himself by staying alive under torture and practising the virtues thus brought into play, he will choose the latter,—sibi commodare” (Ep. 66–92. 60n.). The notion of humoring one’s ethos reaccentuates the import of willfulness (or conceit) latently present in this line of thought. The examplar thereto is traditional; the context Seneca’s: “Socrates potuit abstinentia finire vitam et inedia potius quam veneno mori. Triginta tamen dies in carcere et in expectatione mortis exegit […]. Quid erat stultius quam mortem contemnere, venenum timere?” (Ep. 66–92. 60, LXX.9). In his argument’s economy—as much as for oratorical effect—the writer displays skill at reading an arch-familiar case (yet) another way. Right thereafter, a counter example refers to an infamous youth (“adulescentis tam stolidi

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Sans mentioning Plato by name (nor the need to do so), Seneca outright rejects that aught should inhibit the ultimate liberty.184 Proceeding inductively from the fact that everybody arrives the same way—while not all leave alike—he brings nature to bear on such as claim to be speaking in its name. Those who bank on, and back, the formula ‘katà phýsin’ turn out to be adherents, upholders of a manmade law as happens to be in direct contradiction to the course of events. Having no grounds to complain would also be stressed by Epictetus, later. Yet Seneca had gone much further in his affirmation of acting wholly at one’s pleasure, should the bottom line be concerned.185 Where the last (often only) freedom is at stake, there can be no plausible limits—save a present will per se. While the Roman rhétor reliably upholds an uncompromising voluntarism validated by the idea of liberty, this is particularly patent where its performance has striking, dramatic (not to say, spectacular) effects outright. Cases of slavery, captivity—like those of the Spartan lad, the Germanic warrior—will therefore be

|| quam nobilis”, “reum”, Ep. 66–92. 60, LXX.10), instead of a notorious sage. The former kills himself—against his aunt’s advice (a rhetorical query: “‘Quid te […] delectat alienum negotium agere’”, Ep. 66–92. 60–62, LXX.10). Tying in with his own allocutio, Seneca defends the felon in forensic fashion: “manus sibi attulit nec sine causa. Nam post diem tertium aut quartum inimici moriturus arbitrio si vivit, alienum negotium agit” (Ep. 66–92. 62, LXX.10). Key terms denote agency (“agere”, “agit”), choice (“arbitrio”): unwilling to accommodate his enemy’s, the youth exercises his own. The rhetorician renders patent his resp. technique: “Non possis itaque de re in universum pronuntiare, cum mortem vis externa denuntiat, occupanda sit an expectanda. Multa enim sunt, quae in utramque partem trahere possunt” (Ep. 66–92. 62, LXX.11). Seneca uses the applicable taxonomies: quaestio universalis, argument in utramque partem (for the latter, cf. Ep. 1–65. 180, XXIV.25; subch. 8.4, herein). The willful drift is stressed (“Quemadmodum navem eligam navigaturus et domum habitaturus, sic mortem exiturus e vita”, Ep. 66–92. 62, LXX.11)—with utter explicitness: “Exeat, qua impetum cepit; sive ferrum appetit sive laqueum sive aliquam potionem venas occupantem, pergat et vincula servitutis abrumpat. Vitam et aliis adprobare quisque debet, mortem sibi. Optima est, quae placet” (Ep. 66–92. 62, LXX.12–13). Seneca’s ostentatiously voluntaristic tendency (“impetum”, “appetit”, “placet”) will go well beyond the customary, Stoic(izing) rationalizations of suicide; while the allusive phrase “vincula servitutis” seems but a Platonizing nod, for good measure. Gummere’s gloss ad locum appears reasonable in general; but likely elides Seneca’s undercurrents (spec. the concluding sentence, here): “When the ‘natural advantages’ (τὰ κατὰ φύσιν) of living are outweighed by the corresponding disadvantages, the honourable man may, according to the general Stoic view, take his departure. Socrates and Cato were right in so doing, according to Seneca; but he condemns (Ep. xxiv. 25) those contemporaries who had recourse to suicide as a mere whim of fashion” (Ep. 66–92. 62n.; with “libido moriendi”, Ep. 1–65. 180, XXIV.25). 184 Generally thereto, see Rist (246–247). 185 Cf. Horace: “mors ultima linea rerum est” (“Epistles” 356, I.xvi.79). Fairclough glosses: “A chalk-line marked the goal in the race-course” (“Epistles” 357n.).

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preferable from an oratorical perspective, since their outcome is antithetically enhanced by the very circumstances of prior and prolonged unfreedom. Apart from the ‘dregs’ of Roman culture—wherein the writer encounters, records, hence preserves discreet, otherwise suppressed forms of grandeur even so—Seneca’s insinuation of tyranny (“crudelitatem”, “tormenta”) also signals another field of application, located at the opposite end of the social stratum.186 Traditionally, its proper representation will be in tragedy; and the Imperial orator was another, who had mastered “the art of letting others end” that way (Blumenberg “Grenzfälle” 61; trans. dsm).187 The verisimilar effect is heightened in altercations between steadfastness and despotism: MEGARA

LYCUS MEGARA LYCUS MEGARA LYCUS MEGARA

[…] Let chains burden my body, let me face a lingering drawn-out death by slow starvation: no violence will overcome my loyalty. I shall die as your wife, Alcides. You take courage from a husband sunk in the underworld? He visited the underworld to gain the upper world. He is crushed by the weight of the vast earth. No burden will crush the one who carried the heavens. You will be forced [‘Cogere’]. One who can be forced does not know how to die [‘Cogi qui potest nescit mori’]. (“Hercules” 80–81, II.419–426)188

|| 186 Needless to say, such value judgments reflect the contemporaneous viewpoint strictly. Reckoning with contingency in this respect (as well) is not only a scholarly obligation, but also a Diogenical dictum: “asked […] how he wished to be buried […] he replied, ‘On my face’. ‘Why?’ […] ‘Because […] after a little time down will be converted into up’” (D. Laertius Lives II. 33, VI.32). See also Megara’s second statement cited above. 187 In a Hebbelian context, Blumenberg refers to “die Kunst, andere tragisch enden zu lassen” (“Grenzfälle” 61). Incidentally, one may well discern that nothing better could have happened to Socrates than the Athenians; naught better to Seneca than Nero (not to mention Judas et al.). Generally, cf. Hirzel: “Die älteste Selbstmörderin, die die griechische Literatur kennt, ist die Mutter und Gattin des Ödipus, Epikaste […]. Hier folgt der Selbstmord auf die Schmach” (76; as to Greek tragedy also: 95, 99). On Seneca’s “‘rhetoricization’” of drama, “[h]is penchant for staging stichomythic verbal duels in the form of terse sententiae”, see Asmuth (“Drama” 184). 188 “Alcides” is Hercules. Besides the intratextual hypolépseis (“inferis”, “Inferna”, “premit”, “premetur”, “Cogere”, “cogi”; “Hercules” 80, II.422–426), there will be an aemulatio in play, given the allusions to the hero as a ‘vir impavidus’: “Telluris illum pondus immensae premit. / […] Nullo premetur onere, qui caelum tulit” (“Hercules” 80, II.424–425). Withal, a similar scene is given in Horace: “for he who covets [‘cupiet’] will also have fears; […] he who lives in fear, will never, to my mind, be free. […] When you can sell a captive, don’t kill him: he will make a useful slave [‘serviet utiliter’]. […] The truly good and wise man will have courage to say [sc. with Euripides]: ‘Pentheus […] what shame will you compel me to stand and suffer?’ / ‘I will take away your goods’. / ‘[…] You may take them’. ‘I will keep you in handcuffs and fetters, under a cruel jailer’. / ‘God himself [‘Ipse deus’], the moment I choose, will set me free’. This, I

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As indicated, Blumenberg affirms the latter in a refunctionalized variant.189 Even more than the affine dictum cited earlier—“qui scit mori, nil posse fortunam” (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.7)—the words put into Megara’s mouth suggest suicide and freedom alike.190 Where present in Seneca, the former is justified as a means to the latter—liberty being his supreme principle; and the quintessence of virtue. Withal, this example from tragedy simultaneously manifests a contingency of status, when it comes to the ultimate: being human, those who else appear ‘high’ or ‘low’ (societally speaking) are equally capacitated to consider taking their leave freely.191 No matter how many (virtual) doors might close, or be shut || take it, is his meaning: ‘I will die [‘moriar’]’. Death is the line that marks the end of all [‘mors ultima linea rerum est’]” (“Epistles” 356–357, I.xvi.65–79; cf. 356n.–357n.; Euripides 40–43, v.492–498). As to the refunctionalization, Fairclough glosses: “The moriar does not belong to the scene. The Stoics sanctioned suicide as an escape from life’s evils” (“Epistles” 357n.). The decisive line from Euripides is also cited in Plutarch: “but when alien and unnatural [‘παρὰ φύσιν’] principles prevail, [he] can depart [sc. from life] fearlessly, saying, / The god himself shall free me, when I will [‘λύσει μ’ ὁ δαίμων αὐτός, ὅταν ἐγὼ θέλω’]” (“Tranquillity” 232–233, 476B, §18; cf. 233n.). In Euripides, Way renders the latter thus: “The God’s self shall release me, when I will” (43, v.498; with 42). As Blumenberg logs (Arbeit 87, 87n.), Seneca is ready to exalt Cato’s dignity over the force of Hercules (“Cato non cum feris manus contulit”), when it suits his present (rhetorical) purpose: “Catonem autem certius exemplar sapientis viri nobis deos immortalis dedisse quam Ulixen et Herculem prioribus saeculis” (“De Constantia” 50, II.1–2). 189 See subchs. 10.1, 10.3, herein. Cf. Blumenberg (Selbstverständnis [1997] 18; Verführbarkeit 143); Marquard (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII); for Early Modern construals, Sokolov (78–79, 79n.). 190 Generally, see Rist: “Seneca seems to regard freedom not so much as the opportunity to act”—but rather “as a state in which one cannot be forced to act” (248–249). Leaving aside the question of how sensible it might be to show and tell a tyrant that, not only does one not fear death, but one actually prefers (let alone desires) it: he will then prevent a potential suicide at all costs, simply in order to intensify and extend the time of suffering. Lucretia’s pragmatic immediacy is surely the more politic course—should a Brutus be present; see ch. 7, herein. 191 Likewise to rhetorical ends, Martial reworks another famed case—here spec. with a view to movere: “When virtuous Arria was handing her Paetus the sword she had drawn from her own flesh, she said: ‘I swear the wound I have dealt [sc. myself] does not hurt [‘quod feci non dolet’], but the wound you will deal [‘sed tu quod facies’], Paetus, that hurts me [‘hoc mihi, Paete, dolet’]’” (50–51, I.13.1–4). As usually, Martial’s purpose is to outdo material floating in the (virtual) cultural networks of his day. Hardly will Nietzsche rank behind: “Nun aber bleibt man dabei, mich zu versichern, daß er [Eduard von Hartmann] es e r n s t meine: und man zwingt mich beinahe, daran zu glauben: sollte er aber damit aufhören, für mich erheiternd zu sein? Sollte ich aufhören müssen zu lachen, wenn diese Arria wieder und wieder ihrem Paetus zuredet, sich nicht vor dem D o l c h e , ich meine vor dem Hartmannschen Pessimismus, zu f ü r c h t e n ? Paete, ruft sie zärtlich, non dolet!” (KSA 11. 533, 35[46]). The cynicism of this passage is driven home by a preceding remark: “kurz, Eduard ist ein Mädchen für Alles und sein Pessimismus läßt gar nichts zu wünschen übrig” (KSA 11. 532, 35[46]). Cf. “E i n e h e i l i g e L ü g e. — Die Lüge, mit der auf den Lippen Arria starb (Paete, non dolet),

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in one’s face, there ever is one as does remain open—to all alike (later restated by Epictetus on end).192 With Phaedra’s memorable words: “Mori volenti desse mors numquam potest” (“Phaedra” 518, III.878).193 In another of his sundry variations upon said theme, Seneca proceeds—not from a Stoic(izing) source, but, as he recurrently will—from “the enemy’s camp” (Ep. 1–65. 9, II.5).194 The ensuing sententia is expressly ascribed to Epicurus: ‘It is wrong [‘Malum’, sc. bad] to live under constraint [‘in necessitate vivere’]; but no man is constrained to live under constraint [‘sed in necessitate vivere necessitas nulla est’]’. […] On all sides lie many short and simple paths to freedom [‘Patent undique ad libertatem viae multae breves, faciles’]; […] no man can be kept in life [‘nemo in vita teneri potest’]. We may spurn the very constraints that hold us [‘Calcare ipsas necessitates licet’]. (Ep. 1– 65. 70–73, XII.10)195

|| verdunkelt alle Wahrheiten, die je von Sterbenden gesprochen wurden. Es ist die einzige heilige L ü g e , die berühmt geworden ist; während der Geruch der Heiligkeit sonst nur an I r r t h ü m e r n haften blieb” (Menschliches [KSA 2] 587, “2. Der Wanderer und sein Schatten”, §75; plus Montinari 190n., referring to Martial). See Lichtenberg’s brief entry: “Eine Frau kann sagen Paete non dolet. Zur Verstellung” (Sudelbücher I. 549, F.646). On Arria generally, cf. Hirzel (78n.; 104n.). Apart from moral indignation (à la Augustine, say), suicide has a tendency of meeting with sardonicism (perhaps for apotropaic or cathartic reasons). See Hirzel: “der Akademiker Karneades [‘konnte’] seine lebenslange Polemik gegen den Stoiker Antipater nicht passender abschließen, als indem er sich über dessen Selbstmord lustig machte” (284). Nuancedly, the scholar will play along: “Im 18. Jahrhundert war eins der berühmtesten Bücher über den Selbstmord, auf das sich auch Rousseau in der Hélo[ï]se bezieht, das eines Schweden Joh. Robeck De morte voluntaria, eine apologetische Theorie des Selbstmordes, die der Verfasser dann auch mit der Praxis gekrönt hat” (82n.). 192 The other or upside to this truth: “You do not know where death awaits you; so be ready for it everywhere [‘Incertum est, quo loco te mors expectet; itaque tu illam omni loco expecta’]” (Ep. 1–65. 190–191, XXVI.7). Else live (while not think) as if dead already. 193 “If someone wants to die, death is always in reach” (“Phaedra” 519). Thus also an Early Modern gloss on Melibea’s preparing her suicide (C Comentada 484, 212r–v, XXI.3b; with Rojas C [Severin] 331, XX). See subchs. 6.4.2.4, 6.6.1.4, and 6.6.1.5, herein. 194 As it were; with context: “The thought for to-day is one which I discovered in Epicurus; for I am wont to cross over even into the enemy’s camp [‘in aliena castra transire’],—not as a deserter [‘transfuga’], but as a scout [‘explorator’]” (Ep. 1–65. 8–9, II.5). Seneca tends to bring ‘home’ more than just intelligence; see the suggestions ensuing above; plus subch. 8.4, herein. 195 While certainly negative, the initial value judgment (“Malum”) seems to be semantically indefinite (like ‘kakón’). Cf. “Quaeris quid sit malum? Cedere iis, quae mala vocatur, et illis libertatem suam dedere” (Ep. 66–92. 300, LXXXV.28). For the above, Rist has: “It is hard to live under constraint, but there is no constraint to live under constraint” (246–247; see the context). Hirzel refers to, reads, the above; and remarks: “Zur Freiheit des Weisen gehörte wesentlich die Erlaubnis des Selbstmordes” (282n.). As regards modes of encountering death, typical options comprise contempt, indifference, embrace. Cf. “mortemque contemnere” (Cicero “de senec.”

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Whether citation or sermocinatio, the initial formulation—with its distinctive semantics, antanaclastic turns—is surely characteristic of Seneca’s diction.196 Be the particular case and general setting as they may—the universal notion of contingency prevails: conditions might be else; or one not at all. Within that very nest of ‘necessities’, the Roman orator shelters the antithesis—(potential, noetic, enacted) liberty being his point and pivot throughout. Like the above—and sundry others in Seneca—the next dictum is attributed to Epicurus (however plausibly, considering that the latter held it for naught): ‘Think on death’ [‘Meditare mortem’] […][;] it is a wonderful thing to learn thoroughly how to die [‘egregia res est mortem condiscere’]. […] ‘Think on death’. In saying this, he bids us think on freedom [‘meditari libertatem’]. He who has learned to die has unlearned slavery [‘Qui mori didicit, servire dedidicit’]; he is above [‘supra’] any external power, or, at any

|| 82, XIX.72). “Contemnite mortem” (Seneca “De Prov.” 44, VI.6)—embedded in a cataract of other ‘externals’ to disdain. Rist comments: “Epictetus is also considerably concerned with death, but his intention is again and again to emphasize its indifference” (250). As regards the Christian discourse, Paul’s choice—in facing a prosopopoiía of Death—may seem to be a blend of glee and disdain: “Ubi est mors victoria tua? ubi est mors stimulus tuus?” (1Cor 15:55; Vulgate; cf. Hos 13:14). When contrasted with the above, there is a shift of accent in Marcus Aurelius: “Despise not death, but welcome it, for Nature wills it like all else. For dissolution is but one of the processes of Nature […]. A man […] should not take up towards death the attitude of indifference, eagerness, or scorn, but await it as one of the processes of Nature” (235, IX.3; with 235n., referring to Montaigne). As to the latter: “Go out of this world, she [‘Nature’] says, as you entered it. The same passage that you made from death to life, without feeling or fright, make it again from life to death. Your death is a part of the order of the universe; it is a part of the life of the world” (Essays 64–65, I.20; plus Essais I. 236, I.xx). Concerning “disdain for death”, contrast Montaigne’s valuation (Essays 57, I.20; with Essais I. 223, I.xx); likewise as to “life and death” being “matters of indifference” (Essays 67, I.20; plus Essais I. 240, I.xx). On the tópos and conceptual implications of ‘the short way (or cut)’, see Niehues-Pröbsting’s seminal study (“Der ‘kurze Weg’” 103–107, here 103–104, 104n.); with D. Laertius as to “Cynicism being a short cut [‘σύντομον (…) ὁδόν’] to virtue” (Lives II. 226–227, VII.121; cf. 108–109, VI.104). 196 Elsewhere, Seneca hints that suicide would not have been endorsed by the horticulturalist (or not in this manner): “they say that Diodorus, the Epicurean philosopher, who within the last few days put an end to his life with his own hand [‘finem vitae suae manu sua imposuit’], was not following the teaching of Epicurus when he slashed his own throat. Some would see in his suicide an act of madness [‘dementiam’], others of recklessness [‘temeritatem’]; he, […] happy and filled with a good conscience[,] bore testimony to himself as he was departing from life; he praised the tranquillity of the years he had passed safe at anchor in a haven, and uttered the words which you never have liked to hear, as though you must also do the same thing: [‘]I’ve lived; my destined course I now have run[’]” (“de vita beata” 146–147, XIX.1; cf. 146n.; the latter being part of Dido’s famous last words: “vixi et, quem dederat cursum Fortuna, peregi”, Virgil “Aeneid I–VI.” 466, IV.653). For the (alleged) manner of Epicurus’ death, see D. Laertius (Lives II. 542–545, X.15–16; 548–549, X.22); Nietzsche (“griech. Litt.” 196–197, III.11).

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rate, he is beyond [‘extra’] it. What terrors have prisons and bonds and bars [‘carcer et custodia et claustra’] for him? His way out is clear [‘Liberum ostium habet’]. (Ep. 1–65. 190–193, XXVI.8–10)197

That first imperative is sufficiently ‘skeletal’ to afford a wide array of readings— also under various discursive regimes (the Baroque ‘memento mori’, say).198 “Post mortem nihil est, ipsaque mors nihil” (“Troades” 208, II.397)—in Rochester’s rendition: “After death nothing is, and nothing, death” (150, v.1; see 150n.). Here—as above—Seneca’s deft, poetico-hermeneutic refunctionalization of death’s ‘adiaphorization’ in Epicurus will come as no surprise, considering his unswerving emphasis on ‘autonomy above all’.199 It is a noetic liberty, in the main: matters may be otherwise (for better or worse), including no longer at all. Provisionally, in virtuality, the process of pondering—even while performed—is concerned (hence copes) with potentials; and be they inevitable, ultimately. The very method enacts its message: the mind is free in contemplating contingencies.

|| 197 Cf. Montaigne—blending and condensing several dicta on Seneca’s part (hypoleptic in turn): “Il est incertain où la mort nous attende, attendons-la partout. La préméditation de la mort, est préméditation de la liberté. Qui a appris à mourir, il a désappris à servir. Le savoir mourir, nous affranchit de toute sujétion et contrainte” (Essais I. 229, I.xx; with Essays 60, I.20). As regards a lifelong practice of ‘memento mori’, see Seneca: “ut finem nostri sine tristitia cogitemus. Ante ad mortem quam ad vitam praeparandi sumus” (Ep. 1–65. 426–427, LXI.3–4). “Socrates […] up to the point of death discoursed on death [‘et de morte disputavit usque ad ipsam’]” (“De Prov.” 22–23, III.12). Likewise Cicero: “hoc meditatum ab adulescentia debet esse, mortem ut neglegamus; sine qua meditatione tranquillo animo esse nemo potest. Moriendum enim certe est, et incertum an hoc ipso die” (“de senec.” 84–86, XX.74). 198 As to the latter in application, cf. Küpper (Discursive 347–359, especially 348–350, 356, 359; said motto expressly at 365). In another context, Blumenberg observes the proliferating tendency of formal frugality: “Ein prägnantes Emblem von solcher Sparsamkeit vermag zu immer neuen Auslegungen zu verhelfen” (“Sturz” 41). On ‘sententious skeletonization’, see Blumenberg (Legitimität 377); discussed and applied in subch. 11.1 (spec. 11.1.1), herein. 199 Cf. the Epicurean line of thought: “death is nothing to us [‘μηδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς εἶναι τὸν θάνατον’], for good and evil imply sentience, and death is the privation of all sentience; […] that death is nothing to us makes the mortality of life enjoyable […] by taking away the yearning after immortality. […] Death […] is nothing to us, seeing that, when we are, death is not come, and, when death is come, we are not. […] The wise man does not deprecate life nor does he fear the cessation of life” (D. Laertius Lives II. 650–653, X.124–126; with 664–665, X.139, §2). Cf. Rorty (Contingency 23); Borges: “Ser inmortal es baladí; menos el hombre, todas las criaturas lo son, pues ignoran la muerte” (“El inmortal” 233, IV). “There is nothing very remarkable about being immortal; with the exception of mankind, all creatures are immortal, for they know nothing of death” (“The Immortal” 191, IV). Cf. Marchesini (passim; spec. the ending of her section 1.1; as well as 1.6). As to the former, see also subch. 11.1.1, herein.

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Performance is another matter, though not entirely—this being Seneca’s ‘premeditated’ point. Of course, one might merely muse on the theme, and feel sufficiently at large in so doing. Thought may well have a tendency of being accompanied by a sense of illimitability. Even so, physical conditions—notably pain (whether natural or induced by a purportedly rational animal)—can basically impose restrictions on the mind’s functionality to such an extent that the respective particular no longer receives the impression that things might be otherwise (if virtually). Without the relief of (noetic, positional) contingency, recourse to the one form of elseness that ever remains open could seem reasonable. In a sense, suicide is a liberty taken.200 As a matter of oratorical course, ‘Seneca’ (qua textual or authorial persona) is more of a free agent than a (let alone strict) adherent to any philosophical school. He employs the material floating in the virtual cultural networks of his day as copia rerum, utique verborum.201 In terms of quantity, those ostensive inclinations toward Stoicism—wherefrom “Seneca regularly pilfered” (Eden “Lit. Property” 28)—are not always free from elocutionary considerations (to say the least). Qualitatively, the Epicurean weft is substantive indeed.202 This transitions to Blumenberg. Having no patience for the absolutisms of dogmatic rigor, the latter is able to tie in with the Imperial Roman writer

|| 200 Cf. Seneca’s highly ostentatious formulation: “neque enim Cato post libertatem vixit nec libertas post Catonem” (“De Constantia” 52, II.2). Similarly Kant: “Wenn er [sc. ‘Selbstmord’] verübt wird, bloß um seine Ehre nicht zu überleben, also aus Z o r n , so scheint er Mut” (“Anthropologie” 589, B213, A214, §74). In structure, the aforesaid may well align with a dictum preserved (resp. attributed to the Roman orator) by Tertullian—“Multo coactius Seneca: ‘Post mortem […] omnia finiuntur, etiam ipsa’” (“De Anima” 765, II.i.xlii, §721, referring to Epicurus also; while quasi equating “Mors nihil ad nos” with “vita nihil ad nos”). As an affine wording on Blumenberg’s part might additionally demonstrate, the terms are virtually interchangeable: “Jedes Leben geht mit diesem Leben absolut zu Ende” (Lebenswelt 239). 201 Cf. “ex pluribus, quae legi, aliquid adprehendo” (Ep. 1–65. 8, II.5)—a rather considerable understatement, needless to say. More candidly: “Quod verum est, meum est. […] quae optima sunt, esse communia” (Ep. 1–65. 72, XII.11). Thereto, see Eden (“Lit. Property” 27–28); also for the tradition, spec. as to Erasmus (Friends 3–5, 3n.; passim; “Koinonia” 305–307; 317; passim), and Montaigne (“Lit. Property” 23–24; passim). Cf. Plato (“Phaedrus” 578–579, 279C, §64). 202 He shows a particular preference for Epicurean sententiae in his epistolary perorationes. See spec. “‘Cherish some man of high character, and keep him ever before your eyes [‘ante oculos habendus’], living as if he were watching you [‘ut sic tamquam illo spectante’], and ordering all your actions as if he beheld them [‘tamquam illo vidente’]’. Such […] is the counsel of Epicurus” (Ep. 1–65. 62–65; XI.8–9; with Blumenberg Beschreibung 785–786; 808). The latter is generally attentive to such ‘wefts’: “Da haben wir wieder das eigentümlich voluntaristische Element inmitten des Rationalismus Husserls” (zur Technik 183).

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emphatically—precisely due to his voluntaristic and libertarian tendencies.203 Hardly are these part of a Stoic(izing) legacy.204 Rather, they will pertain to Seneca’s recurrent—if intermittent, then qualitatively foundational—hypolépseis of the philosophical horticulturist par excellence (see 10.4, 11.1.1, herein). In a context dealing with certain altercations between those philosophical Schools, Blumenberg stresses the key issues of necessity, freedom (from life), contingency.205 The discussion culminates in a Senecan segment cited above:

|| 203 Cf. “Das Minimum des Grundes ist das Minimum der Verbindlichkeit der Welt; darin ist Epikurs Philosophie in ihrer Logik streng antithetisch zu der der Stoiker gebaut, die überall das metaphysische Maximum anstreben” (Legitimität 191). “Die philosophische Kritik am Mythos […] mochte aus dem Standpunkt Epikurs von einem Extrem ins andere geführt haben, indem sie vor allem in Gestalt der stoischen Physik an die Stelle der Willkür und launischen Einmischung der Götter in die Geschicke der Menschen die Instanz der Notwendigkeit einer unerbittlich determinierten Natur gesetzt hatte” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 62). Given the ensuing, it will seem clear where Blumenberg’s affinities lie: “Plato hatte die Lehre von der Einheit des Kosmos als Konsequenz einer teleologischen Weltbetrachtung gegen die Pluralität der Atomisten gesetzt […]; die Stoa war ihm hierin gefolgt” (Geistesgeschichte 112–113). 204 Rist logs: “In a traditionally Stoic context, to think of suicide as the free act par excellence is rather odd. […] all the acts of the wise man are free. If he chooses suicide, that is free like all the rest” (248). “Seneca’s identification of suicide as a free act, perhaps as the supremely free act, is at the very least a new emphasis in Stoicism[;] […] his neglect of the requirement of the divine call is a radical departure” (247). 205 “Epikureer u n d Nominalisten leugnen die Teleologie der Welt, besonders ausgeprägt gegen die stoische These, daß die Welt um des Menschen willen entstanden sei. Dies ist bei Epikur nur eine Konsequenz der Bestreitung des rationalen Weltgrundes, und es genügt ihm, die von der stoischen Philosophie formulierten Sätze zu bekämpfen” (Geistesgeschichte 111; see 108; zur Technik 145); “stoische[r] Kosmosbewunderung und ihrer theologischen Konsequenz wird entgegengestellt das entschiedene non est mirabile” (Geistesgeschichte 114; zur Technik 147; “Überbietung des Kosmos der platonisch-stoischen Linie”, Arbeit 19; cf. Wetz Blumenberg 22). Nominally at least, said antagonism—plus the resp. value judgments—proved stable for much of the tradition: “Nun darf man nicht übersehen, daß die Abhängigkeit der patristischen Rezeption von der Stoa und ihrer Kosmosemphase auch die Übernahme polemischer Formeln, besonders gegen Epikur, einschloß” (Blumenberg Legitimität 162). He stresses “daß seit der Zeit der Stoa ‘Epikureismus’ ein Ausdruck des polemischen Tiefschlags geworden war” (Legitimität 165–166; “ein klassischer Tiefschlagsausdruck”, zur Technik 143; Geistesgeschichte 108). Cf. “Eine Philosophie, […] die keine Erkenntnis der Gegenstände des Himmels enthielte, wäre nur Stückwerk. Gegner dieser stoisch geprägten Auffassung heißen ihm [sc. Melanchthon] mit dem wirksamsten und beliebigsten Schimpfwort der Tradition ‘Epikureer’, da sie sich gegen die Bewunderungswürdigkeit der Schöpfung unempfindlich verhielten; mehr noch, sie verdienten den Namen Menschen nicht, weil sie mit der Natur des Menschen im Kriege lägen, die doch zur Betrachtung dieser göttlichen Gegenstände geschaffen sei” (GKW II. 377). With the benefit of hindsight, and respect to the Classical epistemai, their differences might not be as outright as they seem to have appeared from within the latter. Blumenberg notes a proximity in terms of

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The physics of Epicurus […] is […] the offer of a plausible, not of an evident construction […]. Accordingly[,] it becomes reasonable to keep at hand the catalog of possible explanations[,] and [to leave] open possible ways out. […] The physics of Epicurus needs its mythical reserve, because it is safeguarded against the [deterministic] necessity of Stoic physics only by the minute improbability of a chance [occurrence], [precisely] that ‘deviation’ [‘clinamen’] from the parallel fall of the atoms […]. It is also in ethics that Epicurus thought [along the lines of] such ‘ways out’. As a pointed statement, Seneca reports: [‘]It is a misfortune to live in necessity, but to live in necessity is no necessity. Paths to freedom are open everywhere, many, short, easy [ones]. […] no one [‘can’] be detained in life […]. To subdue necessity itself is permitted[’]. (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 62; trans. dsm; see 62n.)206

Whether Seneca is citing or ventriloquizing, Blumenberg considers plausible the attribution to Epicurus for structural reasons. Not subject to the systematist necessities of logic, nor to dogmatic rigorism, the latter’s theoretical efforts can afford—even accommodate—asymmetries, gaps, irregularities, exceptions, and inconsistencies, as applicable.

|| teleology (“Epikur ist […] unkritisch gegenüber seinen eigenen teleologischen Implikationen”), anthropocentrism; as to Lucretius, he observes “wie stark hier noch das anthropozentrische Moment […] ist, und zwar nicht nur zufällig […]: die Natur bleibt dem Menschen zwar vieles schuldig […], aber sie hält das Notwendige für ihn bereit […] in einem fast stoischen Sinne der verbindlichen Normierung der menschlichen Bedürfnisse durch die Natur” (Geistesgeschichte 111; zur Technik 145; cf. Legitimität 185, 185n.; re Lucretius 492, 6.9–10: “vidit hic ad victum quae flagitat usus / omnia iam ferme mortalibus esse parata”; see 493n.; D. Laertius Lives II. 654–655, X.130; 668–669, X.144, §15; 670–671, X.146, §21); “teleologische[…] Minimalbestände erlauben es Epikur erst, dem Eindringen theologischer Fragen vorzubeugen” (Blumenberg Geistesgeschichte 112). On Stoic anthropocentrism (e.g. Lebenszeit 104; GKW I. 110; 131; 209; 241; GKW II. 433; Legitimität 278; “Fernrohr” 15), see spec. “Die Stoa war darin wesentlich über Aristoteles hinausgegangen, daß sie die Zweckmäßigkeit der Natur nicht nur auf die Daseinsfristung, sondern auch auf die Daseinserfüllung des Menschen angelegt sah” (GKW I. 215). As to the reception, Blumenberg notes “die anthropozentrische Teleologie des bis tief in das Christentum hinein vorherrschenden Stoizismus” (“Fernrohr” 16; cf. Legitimität 81; 192). 206 “Epikurs Physik […] ist […] das Angebot einer plausiblen, nicht einer evidenten Konstruktion […]. Dadurch wird es sinnvoll, den Katalog möglicher Erklärungen präsent und Auswege offen zu halten. […] Die Physik Epikurs braucht ihr mythisches Reservat, weil sie gegen die Notwendigkeit der stoischen Physik nur durch die winzige Unwahrscheinlichkeit eines Zufalls, jene ‘Abweichung’ [‘clinamen’] vom parallelen Fall der Atome, abgesichert ist […]. Epikur hat auch in der Ethik in solchen ‘Auswegen’ gedacht. Seneca berichtet als pointierten Ausspruch: [‘]Es ist ein Unglück, in der Notwendigkeit zu leben, aber in der Notwendigkeit zu leben ist keine Notwendigkeit. Offen stehen überall zur Freiheit die Wege, viele, kurze, leichte. […] niemand [‘kann’] im Leben festgehalten werden […]. Zu bändigen die Notwendigkeit selbst, ist gestattet[’]” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 62; cf. 62n. on Marx’ reading thereof; “Wirkungspotential [2001]” 398–399; and D. Laertius Lives II. 658–659, X.133–134).

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If this universe is a result of the slightest aberration (“clinamen”) in a “hail of atoms” (Vollzählig. 267; trans. dsm), further contingencies can never be ruled out.207 Such modes of thought will tend to leave ‘openings’ in a noetic fabric. Blumenberg’s comparatistic setup also signals the extent to which Seneca might be using the Stoa against itself—precisely on the grounds of that ominous ‘necessity’ (descending from Plato). In fact, a deterministic system should have major difficulties in sanctioning suicide (the entire tradition notwithstanding). For it may well seem that freely cutting one’s own thread would amount to assuming—if not arrogating—the work befittingly performed by (the) Fate(s): especially since death is ‘according to Nature’ indeed; and none may escape it. When deliberated evenhandedly (hence premeditated properly), taking one’s leave would reasonably appear to be the virtual performance—if not the very enactment—of a certain freedom of will or choice. For one might as well refrain—even while one’s forbearance can never mean acquittance (naturally). Provisionally quarantining ethicalities, the sheer conceivability of suicide (irrespective of its endorsement) seems to quasi ‘necessitate’ contingency and ‘casualize’ determinism—at least noetically (since it may be otherwise).208 If so, the distinctive feature of human animals—a capacity for thinking and conveying that matters might be else, or not at all—is particularly patent with respect to what could be another such characteristic: the ability not only to contemplate, but also to deliberately effect, their own demise.209 || 207 Blumenberg notes the “winzige Aberration [‘clinamen’][…], die als Chaos das Durchspielen der Möglichkeiten in Gang setzt. Der Anfang der Welt ist Durchbrechung der physischen Notwendigkeit […][;] dieses Urereignis […] findet der Mensch in sich selbst wieder. Es ist seine Fähigkeit, als handelndes Wesen […] Anfänge in der Wirklichkeit zu setzen, seine libera voluntas, der der Notwendigkeit der Ursachen […] sein eigenes Maß entgegensetzende Wille […]. Im Menschen selbst ist das Prinzip des Kosmos realisiert” (Legitimität 191; 191n.; plus zur Technik 150n.; Geistesgeschichte 119n.; Vollzählig. 267–268). Cf. “im Hinblick auf die Bedeutung des weltschöpferischen clinamen mußte die undurchbrechbare Fatalität vom Typus der stoischen Kosmologie bevorzugter Gegenstand der Kritik sein” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 63; with 65; generally: Lebensthemen 60–61). Cf. subchs. 2.2, 2.3, 3.2, 4.4, 11.1.1, and 11.1.3, herein. 208 Considering the (largely) logical disciplining of philosophical language, it will hardly come as a surprise that ‘determine’, ‘define’, ‘necessitate’ are prevalent, perfectly acceptable terms; while words for the reverse are not only scarce or recent (‘randomize’, say)—but often simply inexistent (as morphologically craftable as they may be): ‘enchance’, ‘contingentize’, ‘spontaneify’, ‘coincidentalize’, ‘fortuify’, ‘accidentalize’, ‘chancify’, etc. 209 Hirzel opens his seminal study with this ‘motto’: “‘Der Selbstmord ist ein Ereignis der menschlichen Natur, welches […] in jeder Zeitepoche wieder einmal verhandelt werden muß’. G o e t h e. Der Selbstmord ist ein Vorrecht des Menschen, das ihn über das Tier erhebt” (75; see the latter at Dichtung III–IV. 129, III.13). Cf. Blumenberg: “die Möglichkeit der Selbsttötung [‘gehört’] zu den Auszeichnungen eines Wesens, dem das Gelingen seines Daseins nicht

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Apart from (what may seem) a curious endorsement of suicide (in this view), the Stoa’s construal of freedom appears to be ex negativo entirely: agents are conceived of as reacting to—and, ideally, as impassively complying with— what is unalterably the case anyway.210 By contrast, Seneca’s insatiable love of liberty leads him to endorse an Epicurean element—which might have been incitative of said ‘eleutherophilia’ in the first place. This weft permeates the former’s textual fabric to such an extent that one may well incline towards questioning his ‘Stoicism’ altogether. For reckoning with contingency even at the most fundamental (a regular praxis of later Atomistic theories) will facilitate—or downright encourage—a tendency for thinking in terms of a “libera voluntas” (Blumenberg Legitimität 191).211 Despite—or rather, due to—his own determinism, it is another philosopher of the ‘Will’, who discerns the Imperial orator’s discursive partialities most lucidly: “velle non discitur; in this he prefers the truth to his Stoics, who taught, διδακτην ειναι την αρετην (doceri posse virtutem)” (WWV I. 385, IV, §55; trans. dsm).212 Insinuating the performative contradictions characteristic of all beliefs presupposing some sort of absolute fate, eternal providence, or predestination, Schopenhauer’s reference is precisely to Seneca’s “To will does not come by teaching” (Ep. 66–92. 227, LXXXI.13).213 || zuverlässig programmiert ist” (Beschreibung 550); “der Mensch [‘wurde’] das einzige Wesen in der Natur […], das sich selbst töten kann” (Lebenszeit 36; with context). Naturally, certain animals (especially mammals) may tend to ‘refuse’ nourishment, when nearing the(ir) end. As far as is assessable, such behavior appears to be part of their programming; and not a ‘premeditated’ choice (so to say; further knowledge pending). 210 Some might wish to believe that taking one’s leave signifies a freedom from life (or pain, disgrace, etc.), rather than marking the fact of one’s being at liberty to do so (and rationally conceive thereof, before). Stoically, every suicide would have to be redescribed as always already fated—with the agent merely seconding, complying with, a ‘heimarmenic’ decree. 211 Blumenberg’s phrase refers to Lucretius: “fatis avolsa voluntas”, “sua cuique voluntas” (114, II.257 and II.261). As to the clinamen, the former stresses: “In der Abweichung des Atoms ist nicht eine Verlegenheit der epikureischen Philosophie, sondern ihr zentrales […] Prinzip dargestellt” (Legitimität 191–192; with 191n.). 212 Perchance, the point is already made by Socrates with respect to Meno’s willful “liberty” (see “ἐλεύθερος”, “Meno” 322–323, 86D). Schopenhauer prefaces the above with the phrase “Seneka sagt vortrefflich” (WWV I. 385, IV, §55; the dictum is repeated at 386). In this—and with regard to what follows—the determinist is being read against himself (needless to say). The Stoic position (or necessity) he mentions is a Platonico-Socratic question, ultimately (see e.g. “Meno” 322–323, 86C–D; 326–327, 87C; 332–335, 89A–E; with Lamb “Intro. Meno” 260). For the present context, cf. spec. Antisthenes (as per D. Laertius): “He would prove that virtue can be taught [‘διδακτὴν ἀπεδείκνυε τὴν ἀρετήν’]” (Lives II. 10–12, VI.10). 213 “Velle non discitur”—the dictum crowns a segment on (in)gratitude; and stresses the

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Even so, the cause thereof happens to be the ultimate contingency of voluntas: its very existence is by sheer accident (thus Epicurus).214 Its choices are at least coincidental (quasi in line with Aristotle’s ‘symbebekós’), if not casual altogether (the notion of a liberum arbitrium).215 Its capacities potentially include a virtual appresentation of other wills (spontaneously, as well as deliberately).216 To some extent, it seems able to discern—and at liberty to negate—itself.217 The elemental node and enduring catalyst of Blumenberg’s thinking is contingency—a perpetual nuisance, and inevitable relief alike.218 Matters might be else, or not at all; if determined, then in part (at most)—but never absolutely. It is the voluntaristic—hence Epicurean—leanings in Seneca’s ‘Stoicizing’ as might ‘legitimize’ to be speaking of Blumenberg’s affinities for the latter.

|| intrinsic naturalness of “voluntas” (in everybody), as opposed to the cultural sophistication of “scientia” (in the few, Ep. 66–92. 226, LXXXI.13). Of course, Seneca’s highly rhapsodic style encourages taking dicta in isolation—the same as his uptakes habitually decontextualize sayings (as expedient). Schopenhauer is following suit. The present reading ties in with both; hence does not retain the latter’s determinism. 214 Blumenberg précises the Epicurean and Lucretian view as follows: “Im Menschen selbst ist das Prinzip des Kosmos realisiert” (Legitimität 191). Cf. the n. above; and subch. 11.1.3. 215 Generally and particularly thereto, see ch. 3 (spec. 3.1, 3.7)—with 4.4, herein. 216 In theoretical and applicative respects, cf. ch. 12 overall; as well as 8.4, 8.5.2, herein. 217 Taxonomico-heuristically, cf. this Tacitean wording: “liberum mortis arbitrium” (Annals. IV–XII. 252, XI.iii; thereto, Hirzel 246, 246n.; with: “die Wahl der Todesart [ist] freigestellt”, 248n.). Cf. Sokolov (77–78). Fothergill-Payne stresses: “Among the many ways one can leave this life, according to Seneca, suicide enshrines man’s ultimate freedom of choice” (Seneca 87). 218 See ch. 11 overall; as well as subch. 4.4, herein.

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10.3 Blumenberg on Brevity, Freedom (Including from Life) Nicht die Welt ist die Episode – ich bin es. Daraus könnte alles folgen. —Blumenberg (Verführbarkeit 136)219 Es bleibt dabei: Der Mensch ist das Wesen, welches ‘trotzdem’ zu leben vermag. —Blumenberg (Beschreibung 633)220

It will evidently be unfeasible (as well as inexpedient) to remark upon every reference to Stoicism in Blumenberg’s extensive œuvre.221 Nor may one ignore (except at one’s peril) his generally pertinent caveats as to any form of dogmatic rigorism—to say nothing of alethic mania.222 Then again, some tentative (if not hesitant) indications—beyond those already given in preceding glosses—may seem convenient as copia, with a view to further research. For reader discretion ought to be presupposed—even (or especially) should it be the exception. Generally speaking, the philosopher tends to comment on said School in ‘physical’, here primarily cosmological contexts—typically stressing its theoteleology, geo- and anthropocentrism.223 An element of distinct interest will be

|| 219 “Not the world is the episode – I am. Everything might follow from that” (trans. dsm). Cf. Blumenberg (Vollzählig. 268); Marquard (“Finalisierung” 468). 220 “This remains: Man is the being that is able to live ‘even so’” (trans. dsm). Cf. “DennochExistenz” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 218; accentuated by Waszynski “Berührbarkeit” 76). See subchs. 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 10.4; also 11.1.2, herein. 221 Perchance, the impression of a marked tendency to regularly employ said School’s tenets primarily as contrastive foils cannot be dismissed outright. See e.g. “Hier geht es nicht um den Konsens aller (consensus omnium), den die Stoiker als eine Art Garantie der Natur für eine Vorstellung (von ihr) eingeführt hatten” (Quellen 256; cf. GKW II. 315). Generally, Blumenberg’s modus operandi may show a tendency to process diverse rigorisms by mutually opposing—and so relativizing—them. Thereto, see also subch. 5.2, herein. 222 Cf. his wrymost remark: “Die Philosophen werden nicht von ihrer Philosophie bestimmt, sondern gehen als Skeptiker wie als Stoiker ihrem Erkenntniswahn nach, als gäbe es ihre Resignationsformeln nicht” (Lebensthemen 11; Verführbarkeit 180). 223 Generally, cf. Pohlenz (“Einführung” XIII). In the present context, Möller (“Einführung” 13; “Schiffbruch” 137); M. Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 83); Uhlmann (94; 97n.); all briefly. As to a rigoristic nexus of the above, Blumenberg précises: “erst in der Stoa [war] das geozentrische und das anthropozentrische Weltdiagramm miteinander verbunden und aufeinander bezogen worden […]. Deshalb haben die Stoiker diese Kosmologie als Ausdruck ihrer Weltfrömmigkeit bis zur Intoleranz verteidigt” (GKW I. 208; with zur Technik 101; “Theologisierung des Kosmos”, 102; 105). Cf. “Die anthropozentrische Weltfrömmigkeit ist auch die Basis für die Stellung der Stoiker in der Geschichte der Astronomie” (GKW I. 209). “Die Stoiker vollendeten die Identität von Metaphysik und Kosmologie, indem sie die auf den Menschen bezogene Zweckmäßigkeit

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the (Heraclitizing) notion of ekpýrosis.224 Certain references are concerned with refunctionalizing, instrumentalizing, misappropriating uptakes in later (notably

|| der Natur zum Ausdruck der in ihr waltenden Vorsehung machten” (Legitimität 174; plus 422– 423). See references to Stoic ‘prónoia’ (Sorge 19; Höhlen. 348; Legitimität 559; Lebensthemen 60– 61; Arbeit 367; zur Technik 133); to “divina cura” (Sorge 210); to the “Hereinnahme der stoischen Vorsehung in das Christentum” (Legitimität 41; cf. 162–163; Höhlen. 357); and to the Patristic reception and refunctionalization of Stoic teleology (zur Technik 63–64): “Für die Stoa und für Cicero waren die Götter und die Menschen Nutznießer der kosmischen Zweckmäßigkeit; noch die Theologie beruhte […] auf der Kosmologie. Das war vom biblischen Schöpfungsgedanken her unerträglich” (GKW I. 206). “Das stoische Verhältnis von Kosmologie und Theologie kehrt sich um: jene wird eine Funktion dieser” (GKW I. 211). “Auch der Vorsehungsgedanke verliert [scholastisch] seine Ähnlichkeit mit der stoischen providentia” (zur Technik 65). As regards previous and later crossovers, Blumenberg refers to the ps.-Aristotelian “On the Cosmos” as a “stark stoisierende Schrift”, for instance (Legitimität 295–296; see Ps.-Aristotle passim); or has (ironic) recourse to the School’s doctrines for contrastive purposes himself: with Copernicus (spec. as read by Giordano Bruno) “begann die Wohnstube des Universums, die seit Aristoteles und seit der geozentrischen Begeisterung der Stoiker der Menschheit enge Gemütlichkeit, wenn auch nicht heimische Genügsamkeit geboten hatte, ins Unermeßliche zu expandieren” (“Universum” 14; plus GKW II. 430–431). See also Blumenberg’s comments on neo-Stoicizing refunctionalizations of cosmology and ethics in Melanchthon (GKW II. 377; 379; 386; 388; 392; 393n.); and on Pico’s hypólepsis: “Aus der stoischen Ruhestellung des Weltbetrachters ist die Ausgangsstellung eines Selbstgestalters und Weltverwandlers geworden” (GKW II. 565). 224 Cf. spec. “Die harmlose Trivialredensart, es sei alles schon einmal dagewesen, gehört in den Vulgärstoizismus, der im Grenzfall die Ausbrennung der Welt ertragen lassen soll, weil sie daran noch niemals endgültig zunichte geworden ist. Wiederholung ist ein Faktor zur Stiftung von Vertrauen” (Verführbarkeit 44). As to ekpýrosis, see Blumenberg (Sorge 60–61; 161); spec. as to “wie […] das Feuer der antiken Stoiker in jeder Periode des zyklischen Prozesses den Kosmos zunächst produzierte und dann zerstörte” (GKW III. 685). “Statt wie die Atomistik der Seele die Natur des Feuers zu geben, hatte die Stoa in ihrer Vorliebe für Heraklit der Seele eine wäßrige Natur gegeben und ihr, analog zum Kreislauf des Feuers, einen solchen der Verdunstung und Kondensation zugeschrieben” (Quellen 64; cf. 66; Vollzählig. 268); “der stoische Kosmos geht an Erschöpfung seiner produktiven Kraft in der Ekpyrosis zugrunde. Noch diese Eschatologie ist teleologisch: die Ausbrennung hat dieselbe Ursache wie der Ordnungsschwund, die Degeneration des Feuers von der produktiven zur destruktiven Kraft” (GKW I. 208n.; cf. “Selbsterhaltung” 160–161). As to Christian appropriations, Blumenberg observes “die biblische Selbstbindung Gottes, manifestiert im Regenbogen, […] es auf keine neue Überflutung der ganzen Welt ankommen zu lassen […]. Diese Weltbindung hatte die biblisch-christliche Apokalyptik in die Arme der stoischen Ekpyrosis getrieben, die Welt durch Feuer zugrunde gehen zu lassen” (Quellen 105); “die zyklische Vorstellung der Stoiker von den Weltperioden [‘wurde’] durch die frühchristlichen Autoren mit Nachdruck dahin korrigiert […], die Welt müsse zwar zugrundegehen, aber nur einmal; […] dies […] [‘ist’] die Vorstellung von der Einheit und Einzigkeit des Geschichtsprozesses, die durch die Reduktion der stoischen Weltwiederholungen auf eine Phase linearisiert wurde” (GKW II. 527; cf. “Selbsterhaltung” 193; but contrast the case of Origen in: Sorge 161–162). Generally, see Marquard: “eschatologische

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Early Modern) political theories.225 Connected therewith, the respective textual environments often (nor unnaturally) tend to be ethical (in discourse historical terms).226 To the extent that Stoicizing authors are mentioned with (if tacit) approval, Seneca will likely be the most frequently cited name.227 || Weltnegation nicht zu wollen ist das Motiv zur Neuzeit; es ist – wenn […] Blumenberg recht hat, und natürlich hat […] [er] recht – ein weltkonservatives Motiv” (Glück 46). 225 See Blumenberg on Cicero’s uses (GKW I. 207); and on Early Modern refunctionalizations (“stoisches Naturrecht”, Beschreibung 612); spec. as to “das Schema jenes status naturalis […], von dem ausgehend die neuzeitlichen Staatsphilosophie ihren konstruktiven Weg genommen hat. […] Hobbes nahm das als den von der Stoa definierten Rechtsurzustand des Omnia dedit natura omnibus” (Sachen 302; see Lebenswelt 39–40; 79; 233; 238–239). “Der klassische Satz: natura dedit omnia omnibus” is “ein naturrechtliches Axiom der Stoa”; “Hobbes hat aus diesem Satz etwas radikal anderes gemacht” (Geistesgeschichte 133). Cf. Pohlenz (on the long half-life of this foundational dogma): “Es gibt also ein absolutes Gesetz, das alle Menschen verpflichtet […]. Das ist der stoische Grundgedanke, der den Anstoß zur modernen Lehre vom Naturrecht gegeben hat und noch in der Gegenwart weiterlebt. Papst Pius XII. hat ihn 1948 in seiner Osterbotschaft als christliche Lehre verkündet” (“Einführung” XVI). As to instrumentalizations of the term ‘Stoicism’ (or variants) in political myths, see Blumenberg (Präfiguration 37–38). He qualifies a resp. appropriation as follows: “Das was hier ‘stoisch-philosophisch’ genannt wird, verbindet sich sogleich mit einem eschatologischen Zynismus” (Präfiguration 38). Cf. Nicholls (Myth 236); spec. “Handlungen sind immer auch soziale Zuschreibungen von Beobachtern” (Nicholls/Heidenreich “Nachwort” 134; with 142–145). The aforesaid (“stoisch-philosophische Haltung”, “Stoiker”) refers to Frederick the Great’s resp. proclivities in stylizing himself: “Möge Cesare Borgia das Vorbild der Machiavellisten sein, meins ist Marc Aurel” (25, VI; with Bergmann 140). Needless to say, he appears to have found Machiavelli more useful, later (see 124; 143–145; Blumenberg Unbegrifflichkeit 85)—employing the Stoicizing Emperor as a front. 226 Cf. Pohlenz (“Einführung” VII; XXIII). Above all: “Zweifellos haben auf dem weiten Feld der Ethik nur Rigorismen eine Chance, ihren Typus zu finden und zu prägen. Nur die Stoa und der kategorische Imperativ haben prägende Wirkung gehabt” (Blumenberg “Über den Rand” 24; Selbstverständnis [1997] 133–134; cf. Lebenswelt 145n.; Die nackte Wahrheit 29; M. Sommer “Formierung” 699). “Dieser Surrogatcharakter der Zeit für den absoluten Anspruch hatte seine formale Vorprägung gefunden in den Diskussionen der antiken Stoa über die Frage, ob der unbedingte Anspruch der ethischen Normen jeden Vorbehalt und jede Vorläufigkeit ausschließen müsse – nach dem Ausspruch des Chrysipp, in der Ethik sei bloßer Fortschritt genauso schlecht wie gar keiner – oder ob die ethische Norm Regel der Annäherung in der Zeit sein könne” (Lebenszeit 166; cf. 166n.; re von Arnim SVT III. 142, §530; Cicero De Fin. 266–267, III.xiv.48). Withal, virulent variations on “conservatio sui” will have manifold discursive interrelations with Stoic(izing) thought (see “Selbsterhaltung” passim, spec. 144, 156–165, 205n.; here: 157). As to the “stoische Lebensideal der Apathie” (Legitimität 296), Blumenberg logs: “Ein dem Ptolemäus zugeschriebenes apokryphes Wort bezeichnet die hellenistische Grundsorge um Unbesorgtheit in ihrer Totalität auch für die Stoa: Inter altos altior est qui non curat in cuius manu sit mundus. Diese mehrdeutige Formel gibt das Gemeinsame der hellenistischen Versuche metaphysischer Entlastung des Menschen an” (Legitimität 296). 227 Blumenberg cites, assesses, the naturales quaestiones at some length; spec. the treatise on

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10.3.1 ‘Qui potest mori non potest cogi’: Senecan Variations [Being asked ‘how he wished to die’, he replied:] With a desire for absconding. —Blumenberg (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; trans. dsm)228

Exemplifying his generally ‘rhapsodic’ style in nuce, this subchapter focuses on Blumenberg’s (guardedly entitled) “Ein mögliches Selbstverständnis”—for the most part.229 To a considerable degree, this virtuoso ‘fugue’ is all but riddled with artfully iterated undercurrents and diverse (if not deviant) forms of indirection.230 In said respect, the framing sermocinationes will be but one

|| comets, said to deal with the matter “from a Stoic perspective” (Lebenszeit 110–112; 112n.; here: 110; trans. dsm): “Senecas Text ist der einzige uns erhaltene Traktat über das Kometenproblem aus der Antike, einsam auch in seiner Qualität der Erörterung eines dogmatisch so verstellten Gegenstandes. Seine Hellsichtigkeit zeitigte jedoch keine Folgen” (Lebenszeit 112). 228 The above rendition is given, so as to align with the typical to and fro in D. Laertius. See the source: “Wie möchten Sie sterben? Aus Lust, mich davonzumachen” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; bold emph. removed from the query). The reply might also be trans. as: “From a desire to abscond”; somewhat more literally, “to make away with myself”. That euphemistic verb recurs in Blumenberg’s peculiar version of the Senecan dictum—serving as a motto for the present subch. and discussed in what follows. See also subch. 10.1, herein. 229 Describing Blumenberg’s noetic style, écriture, as ‘rhapsodic’ is indebted to Küpper; see the onset of ch. 11. Any trans. must be as circumspect as (if not warier than) what it attempts to render; approx. ‘a possible conception of self’ (or ‘of oneself’, resp. ‘of one’s self’). Appearing in Neue Zürcher Zeitung (NZZ) on Feb 4, 1983 (cf. Verführbarkeit 207), the essai was republished in a highly floatational booklet, with the caption “Das Unselbstverständliche” (Selbstverständnis [1997] 9–18; see 221); again in a posthumous collection (Verführbarkeit 135–143, therein). M. Sommer logs its having been loosely planned (“ansatzweise”)—to some extent assembled (as regards the scripts to be comprised)—by Blumenberg himself, prior to his departure (“Ed. Notiz [2005]” 204; Sommer lists the tentative contents at 204–207). It also contains a reference to the death of (the Platonic) ‘Socrates’ (Verführbarkeit 11–12). As to elocutio, this essai may yield the impression of a spec. terse or dry diction—with wry, even sardonic highlights interspersed (by a Blumenbergian gauge): “Einer, der nicht recht weiß, ob er nicht mein Feind sein müßte, tut mir leid – er hat einen kostbaren Augenblick seines Lebens verschwendet” (Verführbarkeit 139). 230 Cf. spec. “Welches Selbstverständnis kann einer haben, den der Ideologieverdacht nicht nächtens plagt, dem das Mißtrauen gegen Verblendungszusammenhänge nicht noch am hellen Tag zusetzt? Der aber auch nicht vom großen Vertrauen getragen und gewiegt wird, er könne dem Sinn von Sein um die nächste Ecke der Winkelzüge des Daseins begegnen oder gar auf die Parusie des Seins selber warten? Was bleibt dem an Selbstverständnis, der von einer Anthropologie nicht fürchtet, sie werde durch Nachweis von Konstanten des Menschlichen den Weg zu dessen Totalveränderung blockieren? So einem können alle sagen, was er nicht ist, und haben dann auch noch recht” (Verführbarkeit 137). Indirect references to Socrates seem reinforced by such signals of irony (see spec. “man habe sich gefälligst selbst zu verstehen”,

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modus—albeit a most significative one.231 The essai ends in the ensuing passage on Seneca (the very words Marquard’s eulogy refers to): Be that as it may, it is good that we need not answer all questions. I prefer not to answer the question, as to what may[,] for me[,] be the most important simple truth, which does not mortify anyone, the possession of which [may] well not [make] everyone happy, but might render some serene. It was expressed by Seneca, with the delicacy that his language has taken on for us: Qui potest mori non potest cogi. […] He who can abscond, cannot be aggrieved. (Verführbarkeit 143; trans. dsm)232

|| Verführbarkeit 136). Characteristically, the extremes are rejected—one being Phenomenology’s unnamable apostate. Withal, any of the galled misappropriations by jaded ideologists, trying to invest Blumenberg with their major orders—a bent openly en vogue since the second decade of the new millennium at the latest—should be rendered sufficiently preposterous by this statement alone. Naturally, it would be unreasonable to suppose every animal’s rationality; and certain Cartesians require being put before the horse (to say naught of others). 231 After the motto, the essai begins with a quote from Schopenhauer’s Nachlass. Nominally, the further references are to Nietzsche, Husserl, Plato (wryly), Nietzsche (thrice), Husserl again, Kant, Horace’s ‘Stoic’, Wittgenstein, Freud, Seneca (Verführbarkeit 135–146). It may seem valid to log that the author refrains from giving some names in recto, while alluding to them rather unmistakably (e.g. at Verführbarkeit 137). Not only is it certain things as are better left unsaid (to say naught of such as are overly so). The resp. citations and insinuations occur in an essai, whose title hints ‘a potential understanding of’ (something customarily referred to as) ‘oneself’. It cannot be excluded that—in a quasi ventriloquizing way—quotes are being used as (oblique) expressions thereof, having others speak in the writer’s stead (see Aristotle Rhet. 460, 1418b, III.xvii.16; Mayfield Ventriloquism 66n.; 144, 144n.–145n.; 181n.; passim). For Schopenhauer’s eye-opener (which Blumenberg cites in full, hence sans respect for the latter’s self-censorship concerning donkeys), this very technique is articulated in a remark featuring a simultaneity of im- and explicitness (“Leider”, “Für einen, der”, Verführbarkeit 136): “Die W e l t , d i e W e l t , ihr Esel! ist das Problem der Philosophie, die Welt und sonst nichts!”—with “G o t t” falling into the latter (Schopenhauer “Spicilegia” 302, §151, [396]). Hübscher glosses: “ihr Esel!] nachträglich gestrichen” (“Spicilegia” 302n.). Blumenberg’s apophatic praeteritio insinuates his having Schopenhauer speak for himself (a technique that, once used, cannot be excluded in other cases): “Leider muß der Herausgeber des handschriftlichen Nachlasses vermerken, daß selbst in der privaten Kammer des Philosophen der Ausbruch nicht ungeschoren durchgehen konnte; das ihr Esel! wurde nachträglich gestrichen. Für einen, der das erst gar nicht hinzuschreiben sich getraute, eine Enttäuschung” (Verführbarkeit 136). Cf. subch. 11.1.1, herein. 232 “Wie auch immer, es ist gut, daß wir nicht alle Fragen beantworten müssen. Ich möchte nicht die Frage beantworten, welches die mir wichtigste einfache Wahrheit sein mag, die niemanden kränkt, deren Besitz wohl nicht alle glücklich, aber einige heiter machen könnte. Sie ist von Seneca ausgesprochen worden, mit der Delikatesse, die seine Sprache für uns angenommen hat: Qui potest mori non potest cogi. Zu deutsch vielleicht: Wer sich davonzumachen weiß, ist nicht bedrückbar” (Verführbarkeit 143). See the third to last reply in the FAZ questionnaire (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260), qtd. in the above motto (10.3.1). Cf. Marquard (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII), cited in subch. 10.1. Considering the context, that “möchte” may

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This is the art of indirection—via praeteritio, sermocinatio—at its most refined.233 The second sentence is a hypólepsis of the first—introducing the essay’s last words with an ironico-peroratorical signal (“Wie auch immer”); a universal remark of a specially inclusive flavor (that curious first person or majestic plural “wir”, later “uns”); an inversive nod to Genesis 1:4 (“es ist gut”, “nicht alle”).234 Initially, the syntax seems to suggest that the speaker will—emphatically, altogether—forego responding to the (putative, self-induced) query as to what he might deem the most basic and significant “truth”. For that first clause precisely fails to commence with a ‘Not I’.235 || also be rendered: ‘I do not wish to answer the query’. This cannot but sound declarative—spec. after the setup of that first sentence. The word “kränkt” (also ‘insult’, ‘offend’) hypoleptically puns on ‘krank’, since Blumenberg logs the ensuing: “Die Philosophie behandle eine Frage wie eine Krankheit, hatte Wittgenstein geschrieben, und nicht zufällig ungefähr gleichzeitig mit dem Ausspruch Freuds, wer nach dem Sinn des Lebens frage, sei krank” (Verführbarkeit 142; see 184; Schiffbruch 84; Lebenszeit 85; Beschreibung 635; Unbegrifflichkeit 103; Lebenswelt 61– 63; 89; Die nackte Wahrheit 83). The above accent on ‘serenity’ links to Epicurus (cf. “heiter”, “serenen”, “Heiterkeit”, Vollzählig. 268). With respect to Blumenberg’s peculiar rendition of the Latin “cogi”, Küpper remarks: “this is […] an interpretation, which gives Seneca’s harsh statement a ‘serene’ touch [‘eine ‘heitere’ Note’]”; it is characteristic of his “generation […] that they rather eschew, ‘circumnavigate’, certain ‘brutal’ questions as arise” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; April 17, 2020; trans. dsm). See also Flasch (15). 233 On praeteritio, cf. Lausberg (Elemente 136, §410; with 144, §440; Handbuch 436–437, §882– 886, here spec. §884). For effectual samples of apóphasis in Gracián, see Küpper (“Jesuitismus” 431); with respect to Machiavelli, Mayfield (Artful 117; 117n.; 119–120; 151; 154n.; 193n.); also on various techniques of ventriloquism (Ventriloquism passim; for the present nexus, spec. 16; 59; 133, 133n.; 151; 153, 153n.; 177, 177n.–178n.; 181n.; 191n.; 192). 234 The segment has a tentative, hedging tone: “mag”, “wohl”, “könnte”, “vielleicht”. While a pluralis maiestatis cannot be excluded (at a secondary level), the proximity of “wir” to “Ich”, “mir” seems to suggest an inclusive use, chiefly. Besides adopting “beantworten” verbatim, Blumenberg’s (auto-)hypólepsis enacts a shift from general to particular: “alle Fragen”, “die Frage”; the iterated “nicht” changes its function. The idiomatic “Wie auch immer” may be read literally: ‘As (is) also always (the case)’. The accent on “nicht […] müssen” insinuates a relief from ‘necessity’. “Wie” con- and assonates with “wir”; the alliterative density of ‹w› continues in “welches”, “wichtigste”, “Wahrheit” (plus the syllable ‹wort› in “beantworten”). A possible allusion to Gen 1 in the phrase “es ist gut” might be backed by the preceding context—wherein Blumenberg adopts a ‘theological’ angle provisionally (“Anerkennung der Verborgenheit Gottes”, Verführbarkeit 142), precisely in order to take a Humanist’s stance by contrast. 235 Had he structured the line in accord with the syntax as would else pertain to such cases— ‘Nicht ich werde antworten’ (etc.), ‘sondern ich werde (statt meiner) Seneca zu Wort kommen lassen’ (sc. ‘Not I myself will reply, but let Seneca speak in my stead’, resp. ‘I prefer not to answer myself, but will let Seneca speak for me’)—said effect would not have occurred. Of course, it is possible to alter and reaccentuate the prosody of the sentence as it stands; but this requires one to stumble upon a first reading; and, by returning to the onset, begin over.

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The segment cited ends and begins with general sententiae: the translated Latin dictum; ‘not all queries require replies’. Between, particulars are stressed (“Ich”, “mir”, “niemanden”, “nicht alle”, “einige”, “Seneca”, “seine” “uns”). Apart from the fact that this writer usually practices and observes a Baconian (or Kantian) reticence, the very presence of the first person singular—notably that of the dative pronoun—may give the attentive reader a cause to pause.236 While easily passed over in the German, that minute intercalation (“mir”) is downright decisive. Blumenberg is not offering—in effect, is declining to make— a universal declaration of ‘Truth’: this is ‘his’, plain and “simple”. Needless to say, the latter does not signify any shortage of subtlety.237 Lest recipients miss the point, the writer stresses that his business or inclinations need not be everyone’s—likely are not (“niemanden”, “wohl nicht alle”, “aber einige”). Said accent on particularity continues with the express reference to “Seneca” (“seine”); also with the (secondary) insinuation of ‘taste’ in the polysemous word “Delikatesse” (similarly in English): chacun à son goût. That the (Ancient, Medieval, Early Modern) lingua franca (“seine Sprache”) is implied before appearing on the page already leads over to the universalizing diverb concluding Blumenberg’s essay (“Qui”, “Wer”, entailing ‘whosoever’).238 The target state is not ‘happiness’ (“glücklich”), but ‘serenity’ (“heiter”). While hardly consistent with the severities of Stoicism ‘proper’, Seneca’s characteristic blending of the latter with his unconcealed Epicurean tendencies may well seem compatible with a sense of blithe tranquility.

|| 236 See Bacon (Novum Organum 32, Praef.; 132 in Spedding/Ellis/Heath); Kant (KrV 1. 7, B.II); with Blumenberg (zur Technik 74; Beschreibung 15); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 177, 177n.–178n.). 237 On the rhetorical genus subtile (resp. the ‘plain style’), cf. subch. 11.3, herein. 238 In this context, the downright curious fact that Blumenberg (against his general tendency, and that of the present segment) appears to endorse a certain ‘possessiveness with regard to truth’ (“Wahrheit”, “deren Besitz”) might be an allusion to another Latin sententia on Seneca’s part—here submerged, but mayhap insinuated: “Quod verum est, meum est. […] quae optima sunt, esse communia” (Ep. 1–65. 72, XII.11). In another place, Blumenberg cites from that same epistle; and spec. with resp. to the Epicurean (or Senecan) accent on there being ‘no need to stay in need’, but ‘many ways out of life, into freedom’ (see “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 62; with Seneca Ep. 1–65. 70–73, XII.10). Cf. subch. 10.2.4, herein. The present context also stresses the absence of a “müssen” (Verführbarkeit 143). If this accent on a potential ‘common use’ (or open access) is indeed the context or implication of Blumenberg’s reference to ‘Wahrheitsbesitz’, it would add another nuance to the zeugmatic clauses, wherein it appears: “deren Besitz wohl nicht alle glücklich, aber einige heiter machen könnte”—the former being unlikely to ‘keep’ such ‘property’ anyway. The resp. ‘possessiveness’ would then be ironically tinged, since the few may be ‘holding on to’ something that most could not care less about.

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A means to this end is the import of a sententia—specifically its quality. By way of a quasi synaesthetic term, Blumenberg accentuates the linguistic, poetic form. Apparently, this dictum’s “delicacy” relates to matter and make alike.239 Not least, said delightful or ‘gustatory’ nuance will be in the transition between languages: something piquant or provocative might be hinted at. Resorting to another tongue may also be a sign of indirection, insinuating latent or additional levels of meaning—as well as problematic (and potentially scandalizing) topics.240 This is the case indeed. After considering aspects of prosody and the ‘poetics of taste’, the semantic factor could come into tarter relief. Not only is the Germanophone essayist putting Latin words into Seneca’s mouth—who, it seems true, had given a similar saying to one of his dramatis personae; while using comparable versions in his epistles: but not exactly these (as far as is assessable). Blumenberg does not translate his act of ventriloquism verbatim (signaled by a hedging “vielleicht”). Instead, he offers a euphemism (“davonzumachen”), which spirits away the abysmal import (almost) entirely.241 Supposing recipients without knowledge of Latin were to read the respective lines—they might miss

|| 239 Küpper comments: “Blumenberg means something, which one might also express by recourse to the French [term] ‘finesse’”; to be “formulating delicately signifies that one manages to articulate ‘brutal’ facts in such a way as has them seem less coarse (brutus)” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; Aug 16, 2016; trans. dsm). As to linguistic ‘delicacies’, Blumenberg’s use seems akin to Nietzsche’s—“D e r b h e i t u n d D e l i k a t e s s e zusammen bei Petronius, auch bei Horaz: mir am angenehmsten. Es gehört zum g r i e c h i s c h e n Geschmack” (KSA 11. 444, 34[80]). He mentions “Homer”, “Aristophanes” in the same segment (KSA 11. 444, 34[80]). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 399, 399n.). As a matter of metaphorical course, the notion of a text’s ‘culinary quality’ is also common currency (rhetorically speaking). With reference to (elocutionary) refinement, see Küpper (“schmackhaft”, Diskurs-Renovatio 246n.; 308; plus “Uti and frui” S144–S145; S154n.; and Schweigen 9). Cf. Curtius (144–146, spec. 145). On “Geschmack” (especially in Kant), see Blumenberg (Beschreibung 740–744). 240 Cf. Nichols (“Language, Soul” 80); Jean Paul (6), on matters of a ‘delicate unsavoriness’— i.e. what may be judged ‘cynical’ by a resp. morality. For particularly graphic cases of ‘refined offensiveness’ (switching languages), see e.g. Diderot (“Neveu” 87; not to mention “Les Bijoux indiscrets” 195–197, XLVII). Cronk observes: “It was common practice to cloak obscenity in Italian” (123n.). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 278, 278n.). On neologisms, loan trans. in an affine respect, see Hirzel: “Jedem fällt […] in unserem japanisierenden Zeitalter das Harakiri dieses Volkes [‘ein’], das ja nicht bloß freiwillig geübt, sondern auch als verordnete Strafe vollzogen wird. Auf ein solches Verfahren wäre anwendbar der Ausdruck ‘jemanden selbstmorden’, den man gelegentlich in unseren sprachmordenden Zeitungen lesen konnte” (247n.; with 248n.). 241 The same verb is used in Blumenberg’s reply to the FAZ questionnaire: “Wie möchten Sie sterben? Aus Lust, mich davonzumachen” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; bold emph. removed from the query). Cf. the motto for the present subch. (10.3.1, herein).

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the dictum’s problematic nature altogether, and believe the philosopher means to “light out for the Territory” (Twain 262, §43)—to say nothing of Crete.242 Yet Blumenberg’s essay is not actually speaking of skedaddling—or only incidentally. The ventriloquizingly adjusted line is hypoleptic in its central and active infinitive (as in its parallel passive): “Qui potest mori non potest cogi” takes up the Imperial orator’s “Cogi qui potest nescit mori” (“Hercules” 80, II.426). Nor is it without affinity to the latter’s own variations: “Qui mori didicit, servire dedidicit” (Ep. 1–65. 190, XXVI.10); “qui scit mori, nil posse fortunam” (Ep. 66–92. 58, LXX.7). A deliberate meld—employed as a sermocinatio—is not unlikely. Blumenberg gives no locus; refers to “Seneca” only (Verführbarkeit 143).243 Needless to say, this would be of ethopoetic plausibility also. As far as is assessable, the philosopher refunctionalized the dictum himself. If so, the literal hypolépseis will be as significant as the slightest deviations. The Roman rhétor uses a chiastic structure of the infinitives—with “Cogi” fronted, and the focus on the end (“mori”). Correspondingly, the inflected verbs are centered, and immediately juxtaposed (“potest nescit”).244 On the one hand, the “qui” seems to be more of a semantico-syntactical necessity (which Seneca would fain have sacrificed for a more balanced ‘tetralog’). On the other, the pronoun con- and assonates with the preceding “Cogi”, || 242 See Strauss: “Escaping to Crete, living in Crete, was the alternative to dying in Athens” (What is Political 33, plus context; Argument 2; as well as Plato “Crito” 184–185, 52E–53A, §14; “Apology” 104–107, 28D–29A, §17). In the very essai at issue, Blumenberg cites a quasi Socratic story (also Kafkaesque avant la lettre): “Nietzsche hat die Parabel von einem erfunden, der den unstillbaren Drang hat zu sehen, was keiner sehen will – sich selber; dazu noch hat er einen zu großen Mangel an Schweigsamkeit […]. Zuerst erregt er Anstoß, dann Verdacht, wird von der Gesellschaft geächtet, schließlich von der Justiz erfaßt, die ihn den Weg zum Ende gehen läßt” (Verführbarkeit 139; with “Technik der erlisteten Selbstdurchsichtigkeit”, 140; Freud is mentioned later, 142). See Nietzsche: “Der Mangel an Schweigsamkeit über das allgemeine Geheimniss und der unverantwortliche Hang, zu sehen, was Keiner sehen will — sich selber — brachten ihn zu Gefängniss und frühzeitigem Tod” (Menschliches [KSA 2] 80, I.2.65, “Zur Geschichte der moralischen Empfindungen”; with context, 79). 243 See Jauß’ line, eulogizing the end of Poetik und Hermeneutik: “Es ist die unvordenkliche Scheu, vom Glück zu sprechen, solange man in ihm lebt, die stumme Angst vor seinem Zerbrechen, wogegen wohl nur hilft, Fortuna zu überlisten, indem man seinem Unternehmen selbst ein glückliches Ende setzt” (“Epilog” 533). Cf. subch. 10.1, herein. 244 It cannot be excluded that Seneca is insinuating Socrates, who—not supposing that he otherwise did—knew very well how to die. See Plato: “if I were to say that I am wiser in anything, it would be in this, that not knowing [‘οὐκ εἰδὼς’] very much about the other world [‘Ἅιδου’], I do not think I know [‘οἴομαι οὐκ εἰδέναι’]” (“Apology” 106–107, 29B, §17; with Blumenberg “Glossen [1983]” 30–31; “Frage” 33). As Apoc 12:12 might articulate, the vulgarized version of Platonism was unwilling or unable to follow.

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the ensuing “nescit”; while also increasing the density of ‹i› in the dictum. The latter will focus all attention on the fulcral term (“potest”)—being the only one to lack a variant of said phoneme. This formal stress on the word denoting agency aligns with the saying’s decisive drift—and Seneca’s dependable accent on liberty. A ‘penta-log’ will be more expedient for such lepidopteran purposes. Blumenberg’s version takes up four terms, omitting the fifth by a negated doubling of the Roman’s centered one (“non potest”). In a comparative reading, this cannot but direct a recipient’s concentration to the absence of ignorance (which is consistent with the later philosopher’s contextual stress on actually ‘possessing’ this very ‘truth’). The repetition of “potest” also points to a patent change in syntax. For the refunctionalized version is built as an evenhanded parallelism, whereto the added term conduces: a ‘hexa-log’ can accommodate an invisible, prosodic caesura—parting the six words into two units of three. The resulting diverb aligns “Qui” and “non”; the repeated “potest”; as well as “mori” and “cogi”. Formal rearrangements have semantic implications. In Seneca, the coercive verb is fronted; in Blumenberg, end-focused. This locus is reserved for dying in the Roman, whereas the present philosopher all but centers it. The latter accentuates the actor (“Qui”) by opening with the pronoun; the former highlights passivity (“Cogi”) in contrast to a decided agency (“potest”). The Senecan dictum has a contextual twist in its tail—seeing that sheer inevitability (“mori”) is turned into a potential activity (“nescit”, ex negativo). Blumenberg’s rendition points up the relief that follows (“non potest cogi”). In either case, suicide is but implied. The insinuative phrases (“nescit mori”, “potest mori”) might pass as euphemisms. While differing in their devices for doing so (a centered or repeated ‘potest’), both sententiae leave no doubt that the human potential for a self-induced departure is focal with respect to a freedom from restraint. In Seneca and Blumenberg, the exit strategy is offered as a liberating experiment of thought. Its noetically relieving (or cathartic) effect does not depend on putting it into practice; on the contrary. The—altogether open-ended—notion of suicide has the function of a provisional failsafe: should matters become unbearable, there is a way out. Everybody has a breaking point. Yet it need not be conceived of as predetermined. Particular limits may be pushed—not ad infinitum; but surely plus ultra, until nature has its way withal. A capacity for thinking in terms of contingency is the groundwork—the conditio sine qua non—of such indefinite explorations. Before opting for the last resort—which is certain anyway—one might as well be otherwise (bearing, withstanding more than wonted, say).

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Should it be the case that human beings are the only animals capable of deliberat(iv)ely ending their lives, this (else unnatural) faculty would align with another, which does seem to be their distinctive characteristic: a potential for reflecting on—and tentatively conveying—that what happens to be (or seem) the case at a given point in time, need not be so; or even at all. Like with most matters, the ability to perceive the(ir) world as contingent is as much a decided forte as it poses problems for the lifeforms in question. Without doubt (mayhap), Blumenberg’s purposively imprecise translation of his own ventriloquism takes off the lucid statement’s edge. Regarding the moods human beings tend to afford, escapism (“sich davonzumachen”) will be among the most frequently (if fleetingly) encountered. More severely, the sermocinatio for Seneca might read: ‘(s|he) who can die / cannot be coerced’; in German, perchance—‘Wer sterben kann / kann nicht gezwungen werden’.245 Such an offhand rendering would not only seem (altogether) idiomatic; but simply do the ‘obvious’—and follow the Latin. Instead, Blumenberg’s circuitous version draws attention to itself, precisely by seeming so (exceedingly) labored: “Wer sich davonzumachen weiß, ist nicht bedrückbar” (Verführbarkeit 143). The first clause (‘sich davonmachen’) is rather colloquial; while morphologically unproblematic, the very rare adjective of the second does verge on a neologistic use. Via this shift in register, the statement’s contrastive message is simultaneously reinforced.246 In its textual environment and discursively, Blumenberg’s coinage, derived from the verb ‘bedrücken’ (literally, ‘put pressure on’—here figuratively, as in ‘de-pressed’), may seem to insinuate the privative terms ‘apátheia’, ‘ataraxía’.247 Nor need one pass over the curious fact that the present philosopher, when altering the Latin dictum, omits the verb of knowledge (“nescit”)—only to restore a variant in his German translation (“weiß”). The “mori” is contextually ambiguous in Seneca’s tragic setting. It might refer to patiently dying at a tyrant’s hands; or to proactive conduct on Megara’s part—neither appears improbable.248 The weighting differs in the epistolary || 245 With the first ‘kann’ signifying ‘Wer zu sterben vermag’, resp. ‘weiß’ (drawing on Küpper’s n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; July 2, 2020). 246 If still necessary, the ensuing may well demonstrate Blumenberg’s attentiveness to such and similar nuances (here additionally accentuated by end focus): “dieses ‘dahinfahren’. […] weil es das letzte Wort ist, klingt es nach, läßt es stutzen: Dahinfahren ist auch der alte harte Ausdruck für den Tod” (Jünger 52). 247 Cf. Marquard on “‘ἀταραξία’” as “Privativ- und Gegenbegriff zu den ‘ταραχαί’” (Glück 13); mutatis mutandis for ‘ἀπάθεια’ qua ‘privative, counter concept’ to ‘πάθη’, ‘πάθαι’, ‘παθήματα’. 248 See Seneca’s textual environment (“Hercules” 80–81, II.419–426); cited in subch. 10.2.4.

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instance, where the Roman cites a Greek as saying: ‘living under duress is dire, but enduring duress is not de rigueur’.249 As indicated, Blumenberg refers to the latter by recourse to a term of approving (even appreciative) connotations: said dictum is taken as an expression of ‘thinking in terms of ways out (Auswege), and keeping them open’—at least virtually.250 This very euphemism may well align with the Stoic ‘exagogé’. Nor will it be incidental that the theme or notion of suicide is implied throughout Blumenberg’s essai on a ‘potential conception or understanding of (one)self’.251 A certain sense of ‘memento mori’ seems to have flavored the Delphic ‘gnothi seautón’ at all times—but not sans temperance: ‘medèn ágan’.252

|| 249 Epicurus, as per Seneca (with context, Ep. 1–65. 70–73, XII.10); qtd. in subch. 10.2.4. 250 Cf. “Auswege offen zu halten. […] Epikur hat auch in der Ethik in solchen ‘Auswegen’ gedacht” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 62); given at length in subch. 10.2.4, herein. 251 As to “Nietzsches Parabel”, Blumenberg logs a “Furchtlosigkeit vor den Folgen: Gefängnis und vorzeitiger Tod” (Verführbarkeit 140). In an abysmal context, he uses the (linguisticophilosophically) polysemous phrase “die eben Dahingegangenen” (“the recently departed”, Verführbarkeit 141; trans. dsm). The mention of Husserl’s having being exiled by the “Ungeist” (Verführbarkeit 141) ties in with the speaker’s resigned remark on the next page: “Was wäre dem möglichen Selbstverständnis eines Philosophen abzufordern gewesen? Gewißheit, unter der Fuchtel des Zeitgeistes furchtlos zu stehen, wie jener von Horaz beschriebene Stoiker, der noch im Zusammensturz des Himmels unerschrocken aufrecht bleiben sollte? Diese Gewißheit wird es nicht geben” (Verführbarkeit 142). Cf. subch. 10.2.2. As passim—and not only due to the mention of the Meno (Verführbarkeit 139)—a ‘Socratic’ persona may seem (tacitly) present. The theme of mortality is implied in the reference to sickness (see Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” XXIII; Blumenberg “Sterblichkeit” passim; Goethe 103–106)—here via Wittgenstein, Freud (Verführbarkeit 142). Cf. Marquard: “wer nach dem Sinn des Lebens fragt – so Freud – ist krank; oder: wer nicht nach dem Sinn des Lebens fragt – so Frankl – wird krank. Indes: die Frage selber wird – scheint es – zunehmend unausweichlich; man muß sich ihr stellen: etwa in Gestalt der Erfahrung des ‘Absurden’, so Camus im Mythos von Sisyphos, ich zitiere: ‘Es gibt nur ein wirklich ernstes philosophisches Problem: den Selbstmord. Die Entscheidung, ob das Leben lohne oder nicht, beantwortet die Grundfrage der Philosophie’” (Apologie 37; with 49– 50; Camus Sisyphe 15; Sisyphos 9, I). In the same essay on ‘philosophico-semantic dieting’, Marquard stresses “daß Sinn alias Glück mit Verzichtenkönnen zu tun hat, was die Stoiker wußten: wer nicht verzichten kann, wird nicht glücklich” (Apologie 44). 252 Cf. e.g. Clement of Alexandria (“γνῶθι σαυτὸν”, “θνητός”, 340, V.iv.23, 658P, 238S); also Hippolytus (293, X.34.4–5; with 18–19, I.18.1–2). Generally, see Thales (as per D. Laertius): “ἐρωτηθεὶς τί δύσκολον, ἔφη, ‘τὸ ἑαυτὸν γνῶναι’” (Lives I. 36–37, I.36). Plato (re)used and (re)interpreted the dictum on several occasions; e.g. “‘Know thyself!’ and ‘Be temperate!’ are the same [‘τὸ γὰρ γνῶθι σαυτόν καὶ τὸ σωφρόνει ἔστι μὲν ταὐτόν’]” (“Charmides” 48–49, 164E; with “μηδὲν ἄγαν” at 165A; cf. 46–47, 164D; 48n.; also “Alcibiades I” 194–195, 129A; 202–203, 130E–131B; 208–209, 132D; 210–211, 133B; 212–213, 133C–D; “Protag.” 196–197, 343B; “Phaedrus” 420–423, 229E–230A, §4).

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10.3.2 Si Vita Brevis, Cur Voluntaria Mors (Views on a Potential aporía) Der Selbstmord kann auch angesehn werden als ein Experiment, eine Frage, die man der Natur stellt und die Antwort darauf erzwingen will: nämlich, welche Aenderung das Daseyn und die Erkenntniß des Menschen durch den Tod erfahre. Aber es ist ein ungeschicktes: denn es hebt die Identität des Bewußtseyns, welches die Antwort zu vernehmen hätte, auf. —Schopenhauer (PP II. 277, §160, XIII, ‘Ueber den Selbstmord’)253

Life being brief by nature—why cut it short artificially: as signaled throughout the subchapters on various Ancient angles, this question is latent in most discussions of suicide. Not absent from Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius, it does come to the fore in certain contexts—most notably in Seneca. At the onset of the essay at issue, Blumenberg observes what might be described as the crux of any reflective life—and the thematic “core”, in many of his own variations: “Not the world is the episode – I am. Everything might follow from that” (Verführbarkeit 136; trans. dsm); and so it does.254 As the “central problem of time”, the philosopher in question discerns “the shortness of human life” (Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” XXIII); likewise the latter.255 Throughout Blumenberg’s œuvre, brevity is vital. In the sentence preceding the one cited, he employs the euphemism “davongehen” (“going away”, Verführbarkeit 136, trans. dsm), which one might align with the more emphatic ‘sich davonmachen’ at the end (Verführbarkeit 143). Between these variations on

|| 253 “Suicide may also be seen as an experiment, a question, which one poses to nature[,] and whose answer [one] will wrest [from the latter]: namely, what alteration of man’s existence [‘Daseyn’] and cognition [‘Erkenntniß’, also: ‘knowledge’, ‘perception’] results from death. Yet it is an unskillful one: for it abolishes the identity of the consciousness, which would have to receive the answer” (trans. dsm); “will” is a full verb, here; “erfahre” implies ‘experience’; “ungeschicktes” may pun on ‘Schicksal’ (sc. fate). Cf. Wetz (“Begriffe” 30); with subch. 4.5. 254 “Leben kommt in der Welt als Episode vor, selbst wenn es eine vielfach wiederholte sein sollte” (Lebenszeit 26). See Marquard (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII). 255 Cf. Marquard (“Finalisierung” 468; Zukunft 222–223; 230–231). As to the vitality of this notion for (his) philosophy, he accentuates: “Es gibt ganz besonders reine Philosophen, die den Satz ‘Das Leben ist kurz’ für philosophisch unerheblich halten […]. Als philosophischer Skeptiker jedoch halte ich diesen Satz – vita brevis – für schlechthin zentral” (Stattdessen 70). “Der Mensch als Mängelwesen ist vor allem das Zeitmangel-Wesen. […] ihr Leben [sc. of human beings] ist kurz, vita brevis; und sie wissen das. Darum – weil ihr Tod immer allzubald kommt – ist die knappste ihrer knappen Ressourcen ihre Lebenszeit” (Skepsis 89; cf. Blumenberg Unbegrifflichkeit 91). Marquard stresses “die stets nur befristete ‘Entlastung’ vom Umkommen. Vita brevis” (Abschied 76). See Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 270–274).

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the like, the philosopher refers to “such a short-lived being” (“ein so kurzlebiges Wesen”, Verführbarkeit 137; trans. dsm); to “des Menschen Vergänglichkeit” (“man’s evanescence”, Verführbarkeit 139; trans. dsm).256 That general problem is also the respective particular’s (as Marquard observes): his peculiarities emerged from [the fact] that[—]precisely with regard to facing the scarcity of time [and] life [‘Lebenszeit’][—]he arranged his life in a more conscious and rational manner than most of his contemporaries. (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII; trans. dsm)

In passing, one might log that such is unlikely to make much sense to the metaphysically minded: “An indifference to time is entrenched in every Platonism” (Blumenberg Lebenszeit 15; trans. dsm).257 Each ‘blink of an eye’ being ‘precious’, ‘economy will be vital’ (“Ökonomie des Lebens”, “kostbare[r] Augenblick”, Verführbarkeit 139; “Kostbarkeit des Singulären”, 140). This “depends on what is considered scant” (Unbegrifflichkeit 20; trans. dsm); and a Sophist will accentuate that ‘the most costly material for

|| 256 With context: “ein so kurzlebiges Wesen, das sich Mißtrauen nur so weit sollte leisten können, wie es zum Überleben nötig ist” (Verführbarkeit 137). See the neo-Skeptic’s affine assessment: “Das Leben ist kurz, wir haben nicht die Kapazität, d. h. Zeit, alles in Frage zu stellen” (Marquard Glück 65). Blumenberg’s ensuing sentence—in a context with affinities to skepticism (cf. “Mißtrauen”, “Nietzsche”): “Zweifel durchaus, als das, was uns begreifen, nicht als das, was uns ständig von vorn anfangen läßt” (Verführbarkeit 137). Inasmuch as this refers to hypólepsis, the latter may be read as a nod to J. Ritter. On the latter, see Marquard: “kein Mensch kann absolut von vorn anfangen, jeder muß – wie […] Ritter sagte: ‘hypoleptisch’ – an das anknüpfen, was schon da ist” (Abschied 78; cf. 7, 76–77, 90, passim). Generally thereto, see Mayfield (“hypólepsis” passim; incl. further references); as to Nietzsche’s ‘art of mistrusting’ (KSA 11. 487, 34[196]; Mayfield Artful 344, 344n.). In another context, Blumenberg speaks of Nietzsche’s ‘cultivation of suspicion’ (at Quellen 214). There is an in obliquo presence within the present essai: “Die nächste Aufklärung kommt bestimmt, und dann ist die Nachhut Vorhut gewesen” (Verführbarkeit 138). See Marquard: “je schneller das Neueste zum Alten wird, desto schneller kann Altes wider zum Neuesten werden […]. So sollte man sich beim modernen Dauerlauf Geschichte […] unaufgeregt überholen lassen und warten, bis der Weltlauf – von hinten überrundend – wieder bei einem vorbeikommt; immer häufiger gilt man dann bei denen, die überhaupt mit Avantgarden rechnen, vorübergehend wieder als Spitzengruppe: so wächst gerade durch Langsamkeit die Chance, up to date zu sein” (Stattdessen 73; plus Aesthetica 73–75). Cf. Marquard’s double qualification thereof as “Lob der Trägheit” (Apologie 64–69; here: 64; “List der Trägheit”, 68; with 69); as well as this auto-ethopoetic remark: “wer menschlich sein will, sei lieber träge als transzendental” (Glück 66; see 65). 257 “In jedem Platonismus steckt Gleichgültigkeit gegen die Zeit”. Cf. “Kein Platonismus hat je mit dem Zeitbegriff etwas anfangen können” (Lebenszeit 26; with “Sokrates [1964]” 295; “Sokrates [2001]” 83). “In jedem Platonismus muß […] Relativierung ausgeschlossen sein” (“Staatstheorie” 127). See Marquard (Stattdessen 70), as cited above; also Flasch (235).

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consumption’ is (human) ‘time’ precisely (“τὸ πολυτελέστατον […] ἀνάλωμα, τὸν χρόνον”, Antiphon in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 367, 87B77).258 Brevity calls for techniques of frugality: “to economize time is […] excellent [‘χρόνου δὲ φείδεσθαι καλόν’]”—as “‘life is short but art is long [‘ὁ μὲν βίος βραχύς, ἡ δὲ τέχνη μακρή’]’” (Hippocrates with Philo “Contemplative” 122–123, [474], II.16).259 Affinely, Blumenberg logs the endlessly hypoleptic quality of such tópoi: “Time is short, art is long. That is […] age-old proverbial wisdom, extracted by Seneca from the Hippocratean aphorisms” (Lebenszeit 72; trans. dsm); “‘vitam brevem esse, longam artem’” (“de brevitate” 286, X.1–2).260 Similar dicta might be multiplied ad libitum.261 Nor is this a brief essay (see “de brevitate” 286–355, X.i.1–xx.5).262 It would appear as though some lifeforms expend their most precious resource on reading or reiterating the obvious and inescapable. Needless to say, ‘die Zeit ist kurz—ein Leben lang’: once noticed, time tends to be short “all life long” (Beckett “Endgame” 78). The capacity for such realizations may vary (as a matter of natural course); but while exceptions might make them, they hardly are the rule.

|| 258 “Was Ökonomie ist, hängt davon ab, was für knapp gehalten wird” (Unbegrifflichkeit 20; with context: 19–25). Cf. the trans. of Antiphon on the part of Diels—“Der kostbarste Stoff für den Verbrauch: die Zeit” (Vorsokratiker II. 367, 87B77); else (perchance), ‘the most expensive expenditure, time’. Graham has: “To spend and squander the most precious resource […]: time” (829, 98[F81], with 828; bold emph. removed). Cf. (and contrast) Blumenberg (“Kostbarkeit des Endlichen”, Vollzählig. 268; plus Beschreibung 608; also: “Ökonomie des eigenen Lebens”, Goethe 38). See Sombart: “leben, heißt haushalten” (215, II.ii.17). “‘Sobrietà’”, “‘frugality’”, “Rationalisierung und Ökonomisierung der Lebensführung” (216, II.ii.17). 259 Colson glosses: in “[t]he well-known opening aphorism of Hippocrates […] ἡ τέχνη is the art, i.e. of medicine” (“Contemplative” 122n.; with the latter at 98–99, I.i; cited below). As a matter of course, no context soever will ever have prevented a chiseled dictum from floating freely in (virtual) cultural networks, be they Ancient or (Early) ‘Modern’. For the (Delphic) formula, see also Lausberg: “χρόνου φείδου” (Handbuch 436, §881, incl. reference to “γνῶθι σεαυτόν”, “μηδὲν ἄγαν”; with Tryphon 202, §752). Cf. Clement of Alexandria (“χρόνου φείδου”, 340, V.iv.22, 658P, 238S; also as to the “γνῶθι σαυτὸν”, §23). 260 “Die Zeit ist kurz, die Kunst ist lang. Das ist […] älteste Spruchweisheit, von Seneca schon den Aphorismen des Hippokrates entnommen”. See the latter: “LIFE is short [‘Ὁ βίος βραχύς’], the Art long [‘ἡ δὲ τέχνη μακρή’], opportunity [‘καιρὸς’] fleeting, experiment [‘πεῖρα’] treacherous, judgment [‘κρίσις’] difficult” (98–99, I.i). 261 Cf. e.g. Protagoras: “καὶ βραχὺς ὢν ὁ βίος τοῦ ἀνθρώπου” (in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 265, 80B4). Marcus Aurelius: “τὸ δ’ ὅλον, βραχὺς ὁ βίος” (82, IV.26; with 144, VI.30; 326, XII.7). See the n. below; for further references, also subch. 9.1, herein. 262 Seneca is his own first reader, of course. As Gamper/Mayer pertinently observe, most any poetics of brevity may well ‘evoke’ “eine rezeptionsästhetische Eskalation, die das Kurze und Knappe zum Ausgedehnten und Langen macht” (10).

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Statistics seem seductively self-evident; given the numbers, it all but figures itself. “On a long enough time line” (Palahniuk 17, §2; with 176, §24)—or sub specie aeternitatis—the calculable state of affairs would probably turn out to be more or less the same for everyone.263 Yet quantity is not the measure; and prolongation at any cost hardly reasonable.264 Apparent tautologies notwithstanding, the ways of managing this mercurial matter will differ widely. At any rate, it cannot be excluded that some take considerable pleasure in artfully repeating the inevitable with variation—even or especially. Facing the facts outright, redescriptions—the very performance of rewriting—could come down to an emphatic practice of contingency indeed.265 This bottom line amounts to a starting point. Mayhap, quality does prevail (after all). One might aim at “liv[ing] every day as if it were a complete life [‘Id ago, ut mihi instar totius vitae dies sit’]” (Seneca Ep. 1–65. 424–425, LXI.1).266 For it truly “is long”—should one “know how to use it [‘vita, si uti scias, longa est’]” (“de brevitate” 288–289, X.ii.1). This accent on intensity—‘embracing every hour’ (“omnes horas conplectere”, Ep. 1–65. 2, I.2)— will hardly align with a habit of general indifference as to things temporal: “the Stoics do not deem happiness [‘beata vita’] to be any more attractive [‘optabilior’] or desirable if it be lasting [‘longa’] than if it be brief [‘brevis’]” (Cicero De Fin. 265, III.xiv.46). Yet to no orator is kairós an empty word. As an answer to scantness, economy has at least two aspects: saving, as well as maximizing, a given (good).267 Blumenberg offers this “short formula”:

|| 263 Cf. Marcus Aurelius: “ἀκαριαῖος ὁ ἀνθρώπειος βίος” (308, XI.18.6). “Of the life of man the duration is but a point [‘στιγμή’], its substance streaming away [‘ἡ δὲ οὐσία ῥέουσα’]” (40–41, II.17). The paronomasía performs the latter’s semantic value. See Seneca: “Punctum est quod vivimus et adhuc puncto minus. Sed et hoc minimum specie quadam longioris spatii natura derisit” (Ep. 1–65. 324, XLIX.3; cf. Ep. 66–92. 174–175, LXXVII.12). “Quid enim non ‘modo’ est, si recorderis? […] Infinita est velocitas temporis, quae magis apparet respicientibus […]. Omnia in idem profundum cadunt” (Ep. 1–65. 322, XLIX.2–3). Similarly Cicero—“Veniet tempus et quidem celeriter, sive retractabis sive properabis: volat enim aetas” (Tusc. Disp. 88, I.xxxi.76). M. Meyer: “menschliche Lebenszeit ist eine Größe, die in jedem Fall überschaubar bleibt” (211). 264 Antiphon: “Gedanke oder Maß ist die Zeit [‘νόημα ἢ μέτρον τὸν χρόνον’], nicht Substanz [‘οὐχ ὑπόστασιν’]” (Vorsokratiker II. 339, 87B9). Then again, time is mainly qualitative, in this respect (see Vorsokratiker II. 361, 87B53a; 367, 87B77, as qtd. above). Graham has: “Antiphon and Critolaus say time is a thought or a measure, not a substance” (799, 18[F9], with 798). 265 As to “Contingency Management”, Gamper/Mayer accentuate the particular expediency of ‘short or brief form(at)s’ (15n., plus 14–15). 266 With respect to Valéry, Starobinski formulates this aureate line: “Der unumschränkte Augenblick ersetzt durch seine Intensität die verlorenen Stunden” (251). 267 Besides the qualitative responses of thrift and intensity, the foremost quantitative one will

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No longer everything […] nor for all time. Scarcity and death are the primal experiences, which would compel a different approach to the world – that of exhausting the world within the time [frame that has] become tight. (Lebenszeit 36–37; trans. dsm)268

Complementary to making the most of one’s (limited) resources will it be not to dissipate them: “It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it [‘Non exiguum temporis habemus, sed multum perdimus’]” (“de brevitate” 288–289, X.i.3). Again, “the life we receive is not short, but we make it so [‘non accipimus brevem vitam, sed facimus’][;] nor do we have any lack of it, but are wasteful of it [‘nec inopes eius sed prodigi sumus’]” (“de brevitate” 288– 289, X.i.4; see Marquard “Finalisierung” 470). As always, Seneca accentuates agency—notably with respect to the otherwise unalterable: “aequanimita[s]” is not the only option “adversus inevitabilia” (Ep. 1–65. 328, XLIX.10).269 In discursive terms, this turn is Stoicizing in structure. Yet the Roman orator appears to be applying it to matters said School would not unlikely deem ‘adiáphora’. The latter being a value judgment even so, it may well be else: I [sc. Nature] taught Thales, the first of your sages, that life and death were matters of indifference; wherefore, to the man who asked him why then he did not die, he replied very wisely: ‘Because it is indifferent’. (Montaigne Essays 67, I.20, with 64n.)270

|| be acceleration: “Die Lebenszeit […] ist für den Menschen im wesentlichen eine unverfügbare und unveränderliche Größe; will er mehr an Leistung und Genuß, an Selbstdarstellung und Lebensfülle, so muß er die Realisierung seiner Möglichkeiten in dieser vorgegebenen Zeit beschleunigen. Direkt oder indirekt ist diese Steigerung von Geschwindigkeiten die einheitliche Wurzel aller technischen Antriebe des Menschen” (Blumenberg Geistesgeschichte 81; cf. 93). 268 “Kurzformel […]: Nicht mehr alles und nicht mehr für immer. Knappheit und Tod sind die Urerfahrungen, die zu einer anderen Welteinstellung – zu der der Ausschöpfung der Welt in der eng gewordenen Zeit – zwingen würden”. Time is conceptualized in spatial terms (“eng”). 269 Generally in this respect, cf. Blumenberg—“Die Herrschaft des Menschen über sich selbst sieht Lichtenberg als absolut gegeben im Grenzfall der Selbsttötung: Darin besteht eigentlich der Mensch, so wie er sich ganz selbst ermorden kann, so kann er auch Leidenschaften ermorden. Er kann jeden Zug seines Gesichts töten” (Beschreibung 687n.; Lichtenberg, Sudelbücher I. 549, F.647, has “töden”). The latter also observes “das Tier, das selbst […] Leidenschaften ermorden könnte, so gut wie sich selbst, wenn es wollte” (“Physiognomik” 258). Via the crucial aspect of consistency, a Stoic’s characteristic praxis of apátheia may therefore be aligned with a human being’s capacity for enacting its last. 270 “J’appris à Thalès, le premier de vos sages, que le vivre et le mourir était indifférent. Par où, à celui qui lui demanda pourquoi donc il ne mourait, il répondit très sagement: parce qu’il est indifférent” (Essais I. 240, I.xx; see 615n.). Part of a series of sermocinationes, this dictum is put into the mouth of ‘Nature’ (“dit-elle”, Essais I. 236, I.xx). For the hypoleptic anecdote, cf. D. Laertius: Thales “held there was no difference between life and death [‘οὐδὲν (…) τὸν θάνατον διαφέρειν τοῦ ζῆν’]. ‘Why then’, said one, ‘do you not die?’ ‘Because […] there is no difference

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Like changes and negations, any redescription of the given is based on the human capacity for thinking in terms of contingency: one might see or take things differently; else refuse to do so. Among the typical devaluations of suicide is its seeming profligacy.271 From a certain angle, there could not possibly be any rationality in paring artificially what is already brief by nature—while tending to end rather sooner than later. Other stances appear to have been taken during this animal’s history. Faced with physical necessities—and “Man’s inhumanity to Man” (Burns 55, v.55)—to forego being forced might seem most sound.272 Some have even said that suicide could—under certain conditions—complete one’s vital economy. As with everything, there are diverse forms of misspending—which need not always be as manifest as prodigality outright. Culminating in a double imperative, Seneca’s inventory is attentive to degrees: set yourself free for your own sake [‘vindica te tibi’]; gather and save [‘collige et serva’] your time, which till lately has been forced from you [‘auferebatur’], or filched away [‘subripiebatur’], or has merely slipped from your hands [‘excidebat’]. (Ep. 1–65. 2–3, I.1)273

Whether taken by force, stolen by fraud, or pruned away by business as usual— Seneca’s metaphors are purposively incisive, considering that everyone has their own share of that which is robbed, purloined, or curtailed by nature anyway: “Nothing […] is ours, except time [‘Omnia […] aliena sunt, tempus tantum nostrum est’]” (Ep. 1–65. 4–5, I.3).274

|| [‘οὐδὲν διαφέρει’]’” (Lives I. 36–37, I.35). With a discursive difference, Tertullian—“Mors nihil ad nos: ergo et vita nihil ad nos” (“De Anima” 765, II.i.xlii, §721; referring to Epicurus, Seneca). 271 Conversely (in a certain sense), a latter-day obdurate like Camus might appear to have no patience for either freedom or quality time: “Il s’agit de mourir irréconcilié et non pas de plein gré. Le suicide est une méconnaissance. L’homme absurde ne peut que tout épuiser, et s’épuiser” (Sisyphe 78; see 73–84; but also: 58; Sisyphos 50, I; plus 47–54; and 39). 272 See Rorty with respect to the decided “hope […] that the humiliation of human beings by other human beings may cease” (Contingency xv). 273 The (self-)incitation concludes the Latin sentence: “collige et serva”. Seneca continues his catalog with (or in) these (figurative) terms: “tempora eripiuntur”, “subducuntur”, “effluunt”; the worst causative is “neglegentiam” (Ep. 1–65. 2, I.1). 274 More literally (mayhap): ‘All (things) are (those of) others, time only is ours’. He adds: “We were entrusted by nature [‘natura nos misit’] with the ownership of this single thing, so fleeting and slippery [‘fugacis ac lubricae’] that anyone who will [‘quicumque vult’] can oust us from possession” (Ep. 1–65. 4–5, I.3). Most do (else would) not even feel the thievery: “they never regard themselves as in debt when they have received some of that precious commodity,—time! And yet time is the one loan which even a grateful recipient cannot repay” (Ep. 1–65. 5, I.4). Cf. Blumenberg: “Es geschieht immer etwas Endgültiges, wenn einer Zeit verliert; es gibt keinen

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Then again, it also is not. Via a variant of “Seneca’s incantatory phrase”— “Reliqua nobis aliena sunt, tempus tamen nostrum est”—Blumenberg logs that ‘time, while belonging to us more than anything else, is least at our disposal’ (Lebenszeit 74; trans. dsm; see 74n.).275 Inasmuch as worth tends to be assessed by relative availability, the added value of life lies precisely in its brevity. With respect to quality management and due diligence, this may well be reckoned Seneca’s authoritative summa: the good in life does not depend upon life’s length [‘non (…) in spatio’], but upon the use we make of it [‘sed in usu’]; also, […] it is possible [‘posse fieri’], or rather usual [‘immo saepissime fieri’], for a man who has lived long to have lived too little [‘ut qui diu vixit, parum vixerit’]. (Ep. 1–65. 328–329, XLIX.10)276

The rendition of the central phrase could be misleading. More literally, it might read: ‘but actually happens exceptionally often’. Its insertion here is of note per se; its superlative “[m]ust give us pause” (Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 279, III.i.68). Further down, Seneca stresses ‘abstaining from the other’s body’, while ‘taking care of one’s own’ (“cui alieni corporis abstinentia est, et […] cui sui cura”, Ep. 1–65. 328, XLIX.12, plus 329). His customary preference is for the conspicuous; here, he selects subtle diction withal.277 || Ausgleich, keine Restitution, keine Gerechtigkeit. […] alle Tragik des Menschen beruh[t] auf seiner Armut an Zeit” (Lebensthemen 56). 275 “Zeit ist das am meisten Unsrige und doch am wenigsten Verfügbare. […] in Senecas beschwörender Phrase: Reliqua nobis aliena sunt, tempus tamen nostrum est” (Lebenszeit 74). Unless the latter refers to another passage (or a blend), Blumenberg replaces “tantum” (‘only’, ‘merely’) with “tamen” (‘but’, ‘nonetheless’). It might seem likely that he took this version from Sombart, who cites a Renaissance Florentine’s hypólepsis of the Imperial Roman orator— “Alberti […] nimmt […] aus Seneca den Gedanken: ‘Reliqua nobis aliena sunt, tempus tamen nostrum est’, alle übrigen Dinge sind unserer Einwirkung entzogen: die Zeit ist unser” (217, II.ii.17). Cf. Montaigne: “Le temps me laisse. Sans lui rien ne se possède” (Essais III. 773, III.x; with Essays 773, III.10; also qtd. by Blumenberg at Lebenszeit 74). 276 Cf. “L’utilité du vivre n’est pas en l’espace, elle est en l’usage: tel a vécu longtemps qui a peu vécu: attendez-vous-[y] pendant que vous y êtes. Il gît en votre volonté, non au nombre des ans, que vous ayez assez vécu” (Montaigne Essais I. 239, I.xx; brackets in the source; cf. Essays 67, I.20). See Kant (“Anthropologie” 562, BA182–183, §63); Blumenberg (GKW I. 116); subch. 9.2. 277 Not without reason, Sombart refers to him as “der feinsinnige Seneca” (219, II.ii.17). In light of the above, the line from Euripides (“Veritatis simplex oratio est”) may seem a ruse; the explicit disavowal of ‘intricacy’ an apóphasis (see “inplicari”, “subdola”, “calliditas”, Ep. 1–65. 330–331, XLIX.12; with 328n.). No less cunningly, the ensuing gives society’s view (resp. what the latter needs to hear); then places the focus where it matters: “Vivit is, qui multis usui est, vivit is, qui se utitur” (Ep. 1–65. 424, LX.4). Cf. “Satis sunt […] mihi pauci, satis est unus, satis est nullus” (Ep. 1–65. 34, VII.11); plus Nietzsche thereto (KSA 11. 487, 34[196]; 575–576, 37[2]).

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Quality time is not rated by the hour. One cannot put a figure on the meaningful. Not necessarily do field days depend on their quantifiability. Yet the Imperial orator is not just stating commonplaces as may stand to reason anyway (though he does so to boot). Rather, he goes out of his way to stress that a life’s extent is highly likely to be inversely proportional to its intensity; the implication: what if it simply will not end. As the Borgesian ‘immortal’ observes: In Rome, I spoke with philosophers who felt that to draw out the span of a man’s life was to draw out the agony of his dying and multiply the number of his deaths. (“The Immortal” 184, I)278

The art of frugality offsets human brevity; which téchne takes care of what is unduly drawn out—“like butter […] scraped over too much bread” (Tolkien 34, §1).279 Choosing the scenic route tends to warrant aesthetic gratification—what if there is a grand canyon at the end: does one turn around, or go ahead.280 || 278 “En Roma, conversé con filósofos que sintieron que dilatar la vida de los hombres era dilatar su agonía y multiplicar el número de sus muertes” (“El inmortal” 225, I). This reference is indebted to Küpper (n. to the ms. of the present study; April 15, 2020). 279 Nietzsche logs “dass […] der geistige Grieche Etwas m e h r fürchtet als den Tod, das ist das Alter; weil dies ihm seine produktive Kraft nimmt und ihn vor sich selbst erniedrigt. Darum finden wir den Selbstmord bei den altgewordenen Denkern so häufig” (“griech. Litt.” 193, III.11). Blumenberg ends a significative essai on “Valérys mögliche Welten” (Lebensthemen 141–152; here: 141) with a quote from the latter’s notebooks: “Ich habe das Gefühl, als sei mein Leben zu Ende, das heißt, ich sehe zurzeit nichts, was nach einem Morgen verlangt. Was mir zu leben übrig bleibt, kann jetzt nur noch vergeudete Zeit sein. Das Potential ist ausgeschöpft” (the latter being Blumenberg’s comment, Lebensthemen 152). See his expanded treatment, with this stress: “‘Erschöpfung’ […] meint ‘Ausschöpfung’ der Möglichkeiten” (Jünger 146; plus 145). “J’ai la sensation que ma vie est achevée, c’est-à-dire que je ne vois rien à présent qui demande un lendemain. Ce qui me reste à vivre ne peut plus être désormais que du temps à perdre. Après tout, j’ai fait ce que je pu” (Valéry, entry of May 30, 1945; qtd. in: Rouart-Valéry 72; “Notes personnelles: dernier cahier”, 1524n.). Being asked by Wetz—“Können Sie sich eine Situation vorstellen, in der Sie zu sich selbst sagen würden, jetzt möchte ich nicht mehr?”—Marquard laconizes: “Selbstverständlich” (Endlich. 94). Küpper précises discourse historically discernible views on suicide as are extractable from the West’s (virtual) cultural networks: “1) one may end [one’s] life, if one no longer ‘feels’ like it, if one is sick of life, or ‘full of days’. 2) intermediary position[:] one can end life, if it is certain that nothing ‘positive’ is to be gained any longer. 3) one may end it, if a continuation of life would be nothing but unbearable physical or mental suffering” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; Aug 16, 2016 and April 17, 2020; trans. dsm). 280 It might be “the same abyss” into which “[e]verything slips” (“Omnia in idem profundum cadunt”, Ep. 1–65. 322–323, XLIX.3); but hardly what so does: qualis sit. Like with each and all, this too will be a matter of horizon and perspectives—hence contingent. Perchance, there is a certain serenity in seeing even the skies as abysmal (to say naught of heaven; cf. Nietzsche, KSA 11. 576, 37[3]; Blumenberg Vollzählig. 267–268).

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Showing oneself out has not only proven to prevail over oppressors.281 Like liberty, quality is a state of mind: “To have lived long enough depends neither upon […] years nor […] days, but […] minds [‘Ut satis vixerimus, nec anni nec dies faciunt, sed animus’]” (Ep. 1–65. 426–427, LXI.4).282 While the latter is quick, acute, any life is potentially free—no matter the surrounding conditions. Yet what if the intellective part can no longer be depended on, while the vegetative aspects continue to operate (more or less). When the very practice of rationality is impeded, impaired, invalidated, else about to be impossible—do otherwise rash or reckless measures become reasonable. Should the processes of thought be rendered agonizing by nature’s course, or atrophied by the malice of its poorest relations, might one not show compassion to oneself indeed—and precisely thereby ensure quality and freedom. Enabled by the human potential for seeing things differently—appresenting the (im)possible or nonfactual—noetico-rhetorical variations on a given state tend to be conducive in said respect. Keeping in mind that matters could ever be else (or not at all) may yield a virtual independence from circumstances (as dire as they can be). There is a certain liberty in the process of deliberating. While being so, thought might also be perceived as freeing (and ‘truth’ as it may). Calling one’s own curtain before it falls could be conceived as a failsafe: for instance, if one keeps forgetting one’s lines, while being hard of hearing, or sans cuing from behind the scenes—hence breaking character, making a fool of oneself. Rather than careless, the strategy of stepping down prior to one’s scripted ‘exit’ might also seem sound with respect to those still on stage. Facilitated by contingency, noetic experiments may well yield liberating effects—precisely per se (not to mention actions taken): “‘How to do nothing with words’” (Blumenberg “Staatstheorie” 138; see Unbegrifflichkeit 86).283

|| 281 Contrast an early (1951) essay on Kafka, wherein Blumenberg had still declared (in another’s language): “Den Tod beliebig vorausnehmen zu dürfen, um ihn nicht als Willkür zu erleiden, dieser große und immer noch bestechende Irrtum der stoischen Ethik, bedeutet vollends die technische Usurpierung unseres Seins, die es zugleich zerstört” (zur Literatur 72). Needless to say, the ascription of ‘errors’ might be made in the same. 282 Cf. “Id agendum est, ut satis vixerimus” (Seneca Ep. 1–65. 164, XXIII.10). “Satis longa vita” (“de brevitate” 288, X.i.3). One is free to see it so. 283 Cf. Nicholls’ title (“Nothing” 61); with Möller (“Einführung” 16–17); Flasch (590). Contrast M. Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 84). Generally, see Küpper (“Performanz” passim; spec. 6–7, 10).

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10.3.3 Free to Be Brief (Formalities Concerning Seneca and Blumenberg) Quodcumque facere potest manus tua, instanter operare, quia nec opus, nec ratio, nec sapientia, nec scientia erunt apud inferos, quo tu properas. —Ecc 9:10 (Vulgate)284 quod voluit effecit. —Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 9–10. 322, 10.1.131)285

In the ultimate section of his memorial address (aptly entitled “Endlichkeit”), Marquard turns to “a problem” that both philosophers were ever “particularly concerned with” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII; trans. dsm).286 One monograph is of exceptional pertinence: “My favorite book by […] Blumenberg is Lebenszeit und Weltzeit”, which articulates “the brevity of human life as the central problem with respect to time”—man’s “‘lifetime’ is an ultrashort ‘episode’” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII–XXIII; trans. dsm).287 Later refunctionalized as said eulogy, an earlier essay on Marquard’s part had opened with this imprimis: “[v]ita brevis, life is short. Yet […] Blumenberg’s || 284 “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom” (NIV). See Jn 13:27; with Fontane (Briefe 1890–1898. 70; “Cécile” 317, §6); Voss (117); Blumenberg (“Lebensgedichte” 27; Gerade 23; Vor allem 28–29; plus D. Adams 384). Cf. Wittgenstein (to himself): “Tu du dein Bestes! Mehr kannst du nicht tun: Und sei heiter! […] Hilf dir selbst und hilf anderen mit deiner ganzen Kraft. Und dabei sei heiter! Aber wieviel Kraft soll man für sich, und wieviel für die anderen brauchen?” (Geheime 67, III.3, March 30, 1916). 285 Cf. “Cuius et multae alioqui et magnae virtutes fuerunt, ingenium facile et copiosum, plurimum studii, multa rerum cognitio […]. Tractavit etiam omnem fere studiorum materiam […]. Multae in eo claraeque sententiae […]. Multa enim, ut dixi, probanda in eo, multa etiam admiranda sunt, eligere modo curae sit” (Quintilian Inst. Orat. 9–10. 320–323, 10.1.128–131). Contrast Haverkamp (“Epochenschwelle” 242; Halbzeug 241–242). 286 Said caption—which one might render ‘endfulness’ (perchance)—simultaneously conveys the notions of ‘finitude’, ‘limitedness’, ‘mortality’. 287 Cf. Marquard (“Finalisierung” 468; Zukunft 220; Endlich. 40). He also puts this into perspective with regard to Blumenberg’s personal ethos (at “Entlastung [1998]” XXIII). See spec. these remarks: “Er sagte zu mir: ‘Sie haben in Ihrem Leben keine Zeit verloren. Ich habe acht Jahre verloren, die ich aufholen muß’” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIV; with XXIII). Likewise: “Seit längerer Zeit hat er sich stark zurückgezogen vom Wissenschaftstourismus und seinen Konversationsorgien […] um – in ‘haushälterischem Umgang’ mit der knappen Ressource Lebenszeit – sich (konzentriert auf enorme interdisziplinäre Lektürequanten […]) überwiegend […] seinem Werk [‘zu widmen’]” (“Laudatio” 53; plus “Entlastung [1998]” XXIV). Cf. Fellmann (“Porträt” passim); and Krüger: “Blumenberg […] muß diese gewollte Abwesenheit mit Plan betrieben haben […][.] Wer ihn sehen will, […] muß ihn lesen” (193).

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books are mostly long, and sometimes very long” (“Entlastung [1991]” 25; trans. dsm).288 While characteristically tongue-in-cheek, the issue is considerable (as tends to be the case in serious Socratics).289 Pragmatically minded (as usually), the neo-Skeptic suggests that—to have time and read one’s Blumenberg even so—one might turn to his more essayistic works, whose poetics of brevity may well accommodate the reader’s vital one.290 As a matter of course, the philosopher in question always shows a marked tendency to feckfully intersperse pointed sententiae throughout his lengthier and scholarly prose also. Blumenberg’s œuvre is permeated by apt anecdotes, (in)famous last words, (verbal) memorabilia, things well said and thoughts so put—ever with a refined and decided taste for (flavoring his texts with) the pithy or gravid, acute and incisive, succinct or concinnous. In this very respect, a particular preference for the “delicacy” of Seneca’s “language” will stand to reason (Verführbarkeit 143; trans. dsm). As outlined in the preceding sections, it is especially the latter, who considerably intensifies the issues associated with the tension between life’s universal transience and the distinctively human capacity for cutting it short to boot. This also has formal implications; notably in the Imperial orator, whose ‘pe(r)culi(n)ar(y)’ style adds a performative dimension to remarks semantically concerned with (enhanced) brevity. For in phono- and morphological, as well as syntactical respects, Seneca’s rhetoric elides much ‘excess’; is (always) already terse—often lucidly ‘dry’—to begin with. Nor is its pointedness sans pregnancy and spice. Consequently, his verbal economy might seem to align with three of the more effectual answers to man’s limitation: thrift, speed, intensity.291 Then again, maxims are also mercurial. || 288 See Niehues-Pröbsting in particular: “Diogenes redet kurz – Blumenberg schrieb lang” (“Platonverlesungen” 341). Nor he alone. 289 Cf. the Greek term “σπουδογέλοιος” (Hicks’ gloss in: D. Laertius Lives II. 103n.). Generally thereto, see Niehues-Pröbsting (“Der ‘kurze Weg’” 118–119); Branham (Unruly 26–28; 235n.); Goulet-Cazé (“Religion” 76; 104); Mayfield (Artful 278n.; 443, 443n.). 290 “Kann man die Blumenberg-Lektüre an die Kürze des menschlichen Lebens anpassen?”; “kurze [‘Bücher’], durch die er seine Philosophie selber akkom[m]odiert an die Lebenskürze ihrer Leser” (“Entlastung [1991]” 25). Plausibly, D. Adams (384) sees Blumenberg’s essai “Eine Mine im Nachlaß” (“Lebensgedichte” 26–28; Gerade 22–24; Vor allem 27–29) as a reply to Marquard: “Der Autor muß an den Leser denken, […] der […] die ‘Überforderung’ seiner Zeitressourcen nicht verzeiht. Schließlich möchte er selber leben und erleben, nicht nur leben lassen” (“Lebensgedichte” 26–27; Gerade 22; Vor allem 27). On the whole, see Marquard: “Blumenberg […] läßt […] sich […] kein stilistisches Genre verbieten” (spec. “Miszelle”, “Essay”, “Fabel”, “Aphorismus”; “Entlastung [1998]” XXII; with XXI). Cf. H. Ritter (Denker 99). 291 What is here treated from a predominantly formal perspective has been discussed with a

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Quality time being a stream of mind with riffles, chutes, and rapids, the slight variations and hypoleptic recurrences characterizing a rhapsodic style will appear conducive thereto (see 11.2.1). Like this world, words are subject to contingency: they may be otherwise; not surface at all; else no longer. Their sources might remain latent, even while many rivulets combine, feeding into a discursive network of waterways that could issue into a ‘delta’—and ultimately the open ocean: “To many arms does the stream delegate its dread of the sea” (Lamprecht cited in: Blumenberg Arbeit 127).292 In all cases, time is what occurs before. Even so, said passing seems to be experienced rather differently; notably since its make is largely in the hands— and minds—of those involved.293 Concerning quality, intensity will be of the essence. In this respect, concentration is key. Should it be failing, might one opt for cutting, heavy editing. Considering human limitations, the act of sacrificing sheer extension to a needful excision may well rest on natural grounds. Like pleasure (always being with a difference), serenity has different forms. Contemplating a certain elegance might add an element of the invaluable to the everyday. A penchant for verbal refinements may yield performative delights— and perchance persuade orators even more than their audiences. Not infrequently, attentiveness is heightened by a quicksilvery mind. Its span not being endless, there might be need for a break—and maybe not only from time to time. Burdens of proof can be delegated to a quote: The ‘thinker’, safeguarding himself according to all rules in the book[,] and obstructed in his course by all that reflection on method[,] is not exclusively its [sc. philosophy’s] ideal figure. Would Socrates, Diogenes, Kierkegaard or Nietzsche otherwise have become part of its history? In prison[,] prior to his death[,] Socrates reached for Aesop’s fables, with which the Greeks were familiar right from the cradle. This minute facet is a hint, which I wish to pursue for a moment. The Aesopic fable is a construction of great simplicity[,] and artful even so. I [shall] give an example: At one time[,] an old man cut down timber, burdened himself with it[,] and walked a long stretch. The path tired him. He unburdened himself and called for Death. The [latter] quickly appeared and asked, why he had called him. The old man answered: to reburden me. (Blumenberg “Nachdenklichkeit” 59; trans. dsm)294 || view to ‘content’ in subch. 10.3.2. The most expedient answer will be vicariousness. Cf. subchs. 2.3, 9.2, 9.3, 9.5, 10.1, 10.2.3, 10.2.4, and 10.4, herein. 292 Employed as an apt motto, Blumenberg cites from Lamprecht’s “Delta”: “An viele Arme delegiert der Fluß seine Furcht vor dem Meer” (Arbeit 127). 293 Thereto—as well as concerning the ensuing sentences—see ch. 9 herein. 294 “Der nach allen Regeln der Kunst sich absichernde und vor lauter Methodenreflexion am Gehen gehinderte ‘Denker’ ist nicht ausschließlich ihre Idealgestalt [sc. der Philosophie]. Wären Sokrates, Diogenes, Kierkegaard oder Nietzsche sonst in ihre Geschichte eingegangen?

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This represents the most vivid and vital passage of a (very) brief lecture—its central thesis being: “In thoughtfulness, there is an experience of freedom” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 58; trans. dsm).295 In a downright exemplary manner, the segment cited associates mortality and formal brevity, while insinuating the human potential for voluntarily shortening life.296 Ultimately, any life of labor is likely to deplete a limited being. Perchance, earning one’s sleep by sweat of brow is the purpose of the entire affair indeed.297

|| Sokrates hat im Kerker vor seinem Tod zu den Fabeln des Äsop gegriffen, die den Griechen von Kindesbeinen an vertraut waren. Dieser winzige Zug ist ein Hinweis, dem ich für einen Augenblick nachgehen möchte. Die äsopische Fabel ist ein Gebilde von großer und doch kunstvoller Einfachheit. Ich gebe ein Beispiel: / Ein Greis fällte einst Holz, lud es sich auf und ging eine lange Strecke. Der Weg ermüdete ihn. Er lud seine Last ab und rief nach dem Tod. Der erschien alsbald und fragte, weshalb er ihn gerufen habe. Der Greis antwortete: Um mir die Last wieder aufzuladen” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 59). Significatively, he states (only seemingly en passant): “Nun möchte ich einen kleinen Schritt weitergehen” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 60; accompanied by Lebensthemen 137). Cf. Perry’s problematic rendition of said fable (“The Old Man and Death”): “An old man plodding wearily along the road with a load of wood on his back throws down his burden in despair and calls upon Death to come to him. Immediately Death appears in person and asks the old man why he had summoned him. ‘In order’, replies the old man, ‘that you may lift up this burden for me’” (431, §60). Since the latter might be taken to imply that Death is now carrying the burden on the old man’s behalf, Perry’s trans. seems “a misconstrual”, as Küpper notes: “for indeed the fable states that, faced with death’s inevitability, the ‘burdens of life’, which had previously seemed intolerably heavy to the senex, now again appear – literally – bearable, so that he is ready to take up [and bear] the burden on his own shoulders once more” (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; April 17, 2020; trans. dsm). 295 “In der Nachdenklichkeit liegt ein Erlebnis von Freiheit” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 58). It might be given as ‘contemplativeness’; the prefix (“Nach”) accentuates the sequential (hypoleptic), retrospective. Generally, see Blumenberg (Lebenswelt 62); plus: “Aufmerksamkeit ist geradezu eine Form der Freiheit” (Sachen 183). Cf. also Zill (“Nachdenklichkeit” passim; spec. 225–226). 296 Tellingly entitled “DAS DASEIN” (shelving Descartes, not to mention Phenomenology’s apostate), the ensuing essai links human and formal brevity—“Römische Grabinschrift, nicht als Rätsel für die Nachlebenden, sondern als Mitteilung der sichersten Gemeinsamkeit mit ihnen, die keiner Entschlüsselung bedarf: / N F F N S N C / Doch sollte der Spruch noch solche erreichen, die zwar seines Sinnes inne, nicht aber seiner Sprache kundig sind: / NON FUI; FUI; NON SUM; NON CURO / Bin nicht gewesen, bin gewesen, bin nicht mehr, keine Sorge” (Begriffe 29). See Seneca’s wording: “Haec paria sunt; non eris nec fuisti. Utrumque tempus alienum est. In hoc punctum coniectus es” (Ep. 66–92. 174, LXXVII.12; on the latter: Ep. 1–65. 324, XLIX.3). For the reference to decipherment, cf. Gracián’s “no ai que añadir comento” (Oráculo 237, §251; with Küpper “Jesuitismus” 431; Mayfield Artful 252, 252n.)—to which Blumenberg refers in another context (Lesbarkeit 119; see also Verführbarkeit 176; Mayfield Ventriloquism 153, 153n.). 297 Cf. Gen 3:17 and 3:19—“in laboribus comedes ex ea [sc. terra] cunctis diebus vitae tuae. […] In sudore vultus tui vesceris pane, donec revertaris in terram de qua sumptus es” (Vulgate). See Blumenberg (Jünger 145–146).

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Wearied from long toil, said animal’s distinctive capacity for summoning death voluntarily might seem to come in handy. Yet this very notion and cultivatable knowledge—that a certain relief is ever already on the way—could give pause (“thoughtfulness is also respite”, “Nachdenklichkeit” 61; trans. dsm); and so release ancillary energies: “Still not enough” (Lebenszeit 359; trans. dsm).298 All matter is subject to contingency; while alive, the human form retains a potential for manipulating it—and almost at will. Anything may yet be otherwise, before ceasing. For the time being, one might “get the work in hand done well [‘τὸ παρὸν εὖ θέσθαι’]” (Marcus Aurelius 130–131, VI.2; with 131n.).299 The virtual presence of mortality—even of helping it along ad votum—could have a liberating feedback effect on the task respectively present: the freedom to resume work, after a brief interlude.

10.4 A Lambent ‘Even So’ Und wenn die Dinge nicht darauf eingerichtet sein sollten, uns Vergnügen zu machen, wer könnte uns hindern, sie —darauf einzurichten? —Nietzsche (KSA 11. 575, 37[1])300 beharrlich weitermachen […]. Und wir beginnen noch einmal von vorn[.] —M. Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 79; see 78, 87)301

|| 298 “Nachdenklichkeit ist auch Aufschub” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 61). “Noch nicht genug” (Lebenszeit 359). In other words, and further: plus ultra even so. Cf. the onset of ch. 13, herein. 299 See the concluding quartet in Frost’s ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’: “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep” (the latter v. being reiterated, 224–225, v.13–16). 300 “And if things should not be configured in such a way as to give us pleasure, who could hinder us to — configure them thus?” (trans. dsm). In an ensuing fragment, Nietzsche adds: “Ich vergaß zu sagen, daß solche Philosophen heiter sind und daß sie gerne in dem Abgrund eines vollkommen hellen Himmels sitzen: — sie haben andere Mittel nöthig, das Leben zu ertragen als andere Menschen, denn sie leiden anders […]. — Das leidendste Thier auf Erden erfand sich — das L a c h e n” (KSA 11. 576, 37[3]). Generally, cf. J. Ritter (Subjektivität 67); and Blumenberg on the crafting of “Eigenwelten” (Unbegrifflichkeit 72). 301 “proceeding with perseverance […]. And once more we start afresh” (trans. dsm). As to the nexus with humankind’s distinct plus ultra: “Es geht indes noch weiter […]. Doch es geht noch weiter” (M. Sommer “Zu keiner Zeit” 85). Asked for his “Hauptcharakterzug”, Blumenberg replied: “Ausdauer” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; with M. Sommer “Zu keiner Zeit” 86). On the whole, and in particular, see this characterizing—and -istic—gloss: “Auf alles dies folgt ein trotziges Trotzdem” (Die nackte Wahrheit 8; citing from: Nietzsche Menschliches [KSA 2] 59, I.ii.37). Cf. Amslinger: “Blumenberg [‘betont’] die widerständige Geste eines ‘Dennoch’” (202).

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In his afterword to the philosopher’s posthumously published opus magnum, M. Sommer stresses “Blumenberg’s artfully meandering texture of scarlet threads” (“Nachwort [2006]” 900; trans. dsm); while highlighting his fondness for free ‘variation’ via the word “durchgespielt” (alluding to a certain ‘playfulness’, “Nachwort [2006]” 902).302 Marquard had similarly logged an appreciation of the latter; and the writer in question frivolously declared his “lack of seriousness in philosophicis” on at least one occasion (Blumenberg Sachen 329; trans. dsm).303 Enabled by contingency, noetic (as verbal) experiments mark an expression of liberty. Settings tend to be susceptible of factual (if partial) modifications; failing that, of rhetorical redescription, diverse assessments, differing vistas. || Flasch: “Blumenberg schien gar kein Ende finden zu wollen” (13; infinitized). Generally, see M. Sommer (“Formierung” 701); plus Shields: “The whole thing again, but with a difference” (28). 302 “Blumenbergs kunstvoll weitläufige[s] Geflecht roter Fäden” (M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 900); “durchgespielt […] variierend[…]” (“Nachwort [2006]” 902). A literal trans. of the German idiom (‘fil rouge’ in French) is retained for reasons of euphony; the English equivalent would seem to be ‘common thread’. The phrase ‘etwas durchspielen’ also signifies ‘simulating something (noetically, virtually)’. Blumenberg describes the case of Phenomenology’s apostate as being in stark contrast thereto (see Beiträge 177–178, with the philosopher’s emph. at 177n.): “für die […] ‘freie Variation’ […] [‘ist’] die Voraussetzung des Spielraums verlorengegangen […]. Für Gedankenexperimente steht es mit dem Dasein für diesen Denker – und für die ihm applaudierenden Zeitgenossen, die ihn eben hierin nicht mißverstehen wollten – zu ernst. Man muß sich wundern, daß nochmals ein Jahrzehnt später [sc. after 1927] der Begriff der ‘Sprachspiele’ entstehen konnte, und sogar die Oberhand behielt” (Sachen 323). See below. Cf. “Lübbe hat Wittgensteins Nähe zur Phänomenologie […] angemahnt, aber die Verschiedenheit der ‘Dogmatiken’ hat nicht genügend ermutigt, dieser Anweisung nachzugehen. Denn was hatten die ‘Sprachspiele’ in ihrer kulturellen Kontingenz hier mit den ‘Wesensanschauungen’ dort zu tun? Doch wohl auch, daß gerade die Kontingenz der Sprachwelten an die Stelle jener freien Variation treten konnte” (Sachen 346). As is his custom, Blumenberg’s accents falls on the resp. “Funktion” (Sachen 346; see “Epochenschwelle” 102; Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” XXI). Concerning the above, cf. Rorty: “The line of thought common to Blumenberg, Nietzsche, Freud, and Davidson suggests that we try to get to the point where […] we treat everything – our language, our conscience, our community – as a product of time and chance. To reach this point would be, in Freud’s words, to ‘treat chance as worthy of determining our fate’. […] Freud, Nietzsche, and Bloom do for our conscience what Wittgenstein and Davidson do for our language, namely, exhibit its sheer contingency” (Contingency 22; “the ‘contingency of language’”, 69; with 9, 21; and Freud “Leonardo” 210). See also Flasch (554–558; here 555). 303 Plus context: “Es mag nur ein Symptom meines mangelnden Ernstes in philosophicis sein, daß ich bei dieser Zuspitzung sofort an die Reflexion denken mußte” (Sachen 329, referring to Twain; cf. spec. Unbegrifflichkeit 37). Marquard logs Blumenberg’s “Humor[…] und seine[n] ausgeprägten Sinn[…] fürs Spielerische” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIII)—‘his pronounced appreciation of the playful’. See D. Adams (“trockene[r] Humor und […] spielerische[…] Ironie”, 385); Zambon (“humorvoll und suggestiv”, Nachleuchten 23); as well as Flasch, with respect to (Blumenberg’s) Valéry (spec. “Lachen […] besser als Denken”, 226; infinitized).

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In this respect, the lives and recorded thoughts of others may yield a copia of possible views, takes.304 Reviving these vicariously—in the mind’s virtuality— cultivates the humanizing capacity for adopting various perspectives; and could render redundant the risks involved in trying or doing everything oneself.305 Among Blumenberg’s most significative ‘approaches’ along said lines will be his reading of ‘Wittgenstein’s War Diaries (1914 to 1916)’.306 Also published separately during his lifetime, it forms part of a posthumous collection of essays entitled ‘The Philosopher’s Temptability’—which features the aforecited piece on ‘a potential conception of (one)self’, as well.307 Toward the end, he writes: || 304 Regarding the present context, cf. spec. Blumenberg (“Glossen [1983]” 28–29; “Frage” 33; Verführbarkeit 66), as cited in subch. 10.1, herein. Pertinently, D. Adams observes “daß sich der zeitliche Horizont […] durch den Prozeß der Rezeption erweitern läßt” (380). 305 Blumenberg takes the ensuing as “Bedingung aller Humanität”: “Daß wir gelernt haben, uns anstelle des anderen zu denken” (Beschreibung 610). “So ist der Mensch das Wesen, das sich auf einen anderen Standpunkt versetzen kann“ (Beschreibung 849). See ch. 12, herein. 306 For the passages here at issue, cf. Wittgenstein (Geheime 59, II.63, Feb 26, 1915; 67, III.2, March [28–]29, 1916; 71, III.13, May 9, 1916). In addition, one might consult two affine allusions to a Goethean poem: “Feiger Gedanken / Bängliches Schwanken, / Weibisches Zagen, / Ängstliches Klagen / Wendet kein Elend, / Macht dich nicht frei. // Allen Gewalten / Zum Trutz sich erhalten, / Nimmer sich beugen, / Kräftig sich zeigen, / Rufet die Arme / Der Götter herbei” (Goethes Gedichte 216, v.1–12). With slight variation, Wittgenstein cites v. 1–6, underlining: “macht dich nicht frei!” (Geheime 58, II.62, Feb 20, 1915; 58n.). Prior, he had reformulated v.7–8. “Aber ich will mich ALLEN Gewalten zum Trotz erhalten”—the accent falling on ‘working even so’: “Es ist schwer zu arbeiten […]!! Habe trotzdem […] gearbeitet” (Geheime 36, I.52, Oct 30, 1914; 36n.). Cf. also: “Doch etwas gearbeitet” (Geheime 51, Dec 13, 1914). “Habe jetzt gar keine Handhabe für meine Arbeit” (Geheime 57, II.58, Feb 8, 1915). “Die Gnade der Arbeit!” (Geheime 64, II.72, May 1, 1915). “Arbeite sehr viel! Trotz der widerlichen Umgebung!” (Geheime 65, II.74, June 22, 1915). “Lebe mit Mühe” (Geheime 68, III.4, April 10, 1916). “Die Arbeit schläft in meinem Kopf” (Geheime 70, III.9, May 3, 1916). “Die Gnade der Arbeit” (Geheime 73, III.17, July 14, 1916). Pertinently, Bubner observes: “die Tagebücher von 1914–1916, die den Tractatus vorbereiten, zeigen den Philosophen in unablässigem Selbstgespräch” (Antike Themen 206). He is a “meditativer Denker […]. Das belegen […] mit übergroßer Deutlichkeit auch Wittgensteins Geheime Tagebücher” (Antike Themen 215, 215n.). 307 Like “Ein mögliches Selbstverständnis” (of 1983, Verführbarkeit 135–143, here: 135)—see subch. 10.3.1—the essay at issue (“Die imaginäre Annäherung an eine endgültige Wahrheit – Wittgensteins Kriegstagebücher 1914–1916”, Verführbarkeit 189–196, here: 189) had been published before; spec. on April 25, 1990, in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (FAZ), with a slightly differing title: “Doppelte Buchführung. Synopse der Kriegstagebücher Wittgensteins 1914–16” (see M. Sommer “Ed. Notiz [2005]” 207; plus 206; and the version in Lebensthemen 120–128). Blumenberg listed both in his tentative table of contents for Die Verführbarkeit des Philosophen; the (sequential, topical) arrangement is Sommer’s (cf. “Ed. Notiz [2005]” 204). While either essay appears in a posthumous volume, their particular form is authorized by prior publications (during Blumenberg’s lifetime). As noted above, said collection features

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As Wittgenstein […] returns from [his] Italian internment after the end of the War, he is pervaded by the thought of putting an end to his life in the mountains. Instead, he consummates the ‘Tractatus’[.] (Verführbarkeit 195; trans. dsm; Lebensthemen 127)308

Not incidentally, Blumenberg’s accent falls on the philosopher’s ‘auxiliary constructions’ in a rather precise sense (see “‘Hilfskonstruktionen’”, Fontane “Effi” 294, §35); meaning, on what is done “Statt dessen”—in suicide’s stead.309 Finding and using suitable substitutions is an art in itself. The performance of thought—and especially acts of writing—may be described as variants of such vicariousness (comprising self-replacements, as well).310 Whether in virtuality or (tentative) application, opting for alternatives relies on the datum that most

|| various forms and anecdotes concerning—plus allusions to—self-departure; e.g. “Der Kamikazeheld” (Verführbarkeit 92–95; here: 92). “Todesstoß und Todestrieb” (Verführbarkeit 176–179; here: 176). “Die Sandale des Empedokles” (Verführbarkeit 199–200; here: 199); also the complementary speculation (fire afore, water here) in “Der Tod des Aristoteles” (Verführbarkeit 200–203, spec. 201–202). See the affine essai on Plato (“Glossen [1983]” 28–31)—republished separately in the FAZ, a week after the philosopher’s passing (“Frage” 33). 308 “Wenn Wittgenstein […] nach Kriegsende aus italienischer Gefangenschaft zurückkehrt, ist er erfüllt von dem Gedanken, im Gebirge seinem Leben ein Ende zu setzen. Statt dessen vollendet er den ‘Tractatus’”. One might log the implicit attempt at consistency with regard to ‘endings’; it is replaced with another form of finalization. Blumenberg also speaks of Wittgenstein’s “Selbstmordabsicht” expressly (Verführbarkeit 195; Lebensthemen 127). The essai had begun with a 1946 note by the later Wittgenstein: “Der Gedanke, der sich an’s Licht arbeitet” (Verführbarkeit 189). Lucidly, Blumenberg comments: “Licht und Arbeit, miteinander unverträgliche Vorstellungen durch eine ganze Tradition hindurch. […] Annäherung war, wenn die Erkenntnis schon nahe genug lag, kein rechtmäßiger Begriff. So nahe, wie man dem Tod war, war man auch, so oder so, der Wahrheit – der beseligenden wie der schrecklichen” (Verführbarkeit 189; Lebensthemen 120). 309 The context will be pertinent: “es geht überhaupt nicht ohne ‘Hilfskonstruktionen’. […] Es vergeht kein Tag, der mich nicht an die ‘Hilfskonstruktionen’ gemahnte” (“Effi” 294, §35). See Freud’s hypólepsis (“Unbehagen” 73, II); Marquard (Aesthetica 82, as a motto; Glück 37, by recourse to Freud; and quasi equating “Hilfskonstruktionen” with “Kompensationen”); spec. Küpper, for the nexus with Blumenberg, Marquard (“Moderne” 140n.; 149–150, 149n.; “Fiacre” 271n.; 282–284, 283n.; “modernidade” 221). With respect to a (vicariously) induced “serenity”, H. Meyer logs: “Fontane […] gives solace in small doses […] it gains thereby in effectiveness” (“Spirit” 344). Cf. Engler-Coldren (122; 129; 139). Not incidentally, Fontane’s Wüllersdorf is counseling someone precisely named ‘Innstetten’. Böschenstein stresses “den kryptischen Sinn des Namens: ‘instead of’” (Facetten 169; also Szabó 60; 64n.); hardly would it seem ‘cryptic’ to this anglophile prosaist. Cf. subchs. 11.3.3, 11.3.4, herein. 310 See Blumenberg’s interrelation of contemplative playfulness and virtual death more generally: “Etwas präparatorische Tötung muß wohl ins Spiel des Theoretikers kommen, damit er zum Pathologen seiner selbst werden kann” (Sachen 330; with 329, referring to Twain).

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things might as well be—or appear—otherwise (respectively not at all).311 Extrapolated from past experiences of elseness, one is free to simultaneously envision ‘the road not taken’ (Frost 105).312 Depending on the circumstances, the very notion of contingency may have a liberating effect in itself—regardless of whether certain measures are then adopted or foregone: a given state of play ‘need not be at all, nor precisely the way it is’.313 Via a series of entries in Wittgenstein’s diaries, Blumenberg’s description of his disquiet proceeds by looking back: It was not the first time that he thought of suicide, but likely the first connection between the fate of the later ‘Tractatus’ and ‘work’ as the condition for the continuation of his life, when he wrote down on February 26, 1915: Thinking of suicide. Will I ever work again??! […] An intention to [commit] suicide is again attested in the diary of March 1916 […][—]in this case[,] as a ‘transformation’ of the ‘work’ failing to materialize[,] into th[at] foreclosed by his own hand: I have not worked for more than a week now. I have no time! God! Yet that is only natural, for when I will be dead, I will also have no time to work. (March 29, 1916)[.] Death, here attested as a voluntary one by means of poisoning, is only consequent on the state of [a] life kept back from ‘work’[—on] the lost time of life. Then, when death approaches him at the [military] post of observation, life prevails for a moment[,] due to its distance from ‘work’: Now [I] would have plenty of time and quiet for work. Yet nothing stirs [sc. within]. My [subject] matter is far from me. Death gives significance to life first of all. (The latter on May 9, 1916; Verführbarkeit 195–196; trans. dsm; Lebensthemen 127–128)314

|| 311 Cf. Nietzsche’s formulation: “Müssen wir aber […] so giebt es jedenfalls noch eine Wahl” (KSA 7. 726, 30[2]; infinitized). 312 Frost’s lines are a significant source of rhetorical deliberation in utramque partem (105, v.1–20). For a similar poetics of arguing the other side(s) also, see ‘Fire and Ice’ (220, v.1–9). 313 Blumenberg uses a comparable formulation with regard to “die Kontingenz des Menschen […]: er muß nicht sein und er muß nicht so sein, wie er ist” (Beschreibung 511). “Sein ganzes Denken und Handeln muß vor dem Hintergrund eines ihm selbst verfügbaren Auch-nicht-seinKönnens gesehen und verstanden werden” (“Ethik” 183). Given the “Primat der Kontingenz vor der Moral”, Blumenberg observes: “Es gibt die Verpflichtung zum Dasein nicht, auf der die Verbindlichkeit der Moral beruhen müßte” (Jünger 49); “es [‘gibt’] für diesen Weltunfug namens Mensch nirgendwoher einen Daseinsgrund aufzutreiben” (Höhlen. 356). 314 “Es war nicht das erste Mal, daß er an Selbstmord dachte, aber wohl die erste Herstellung des Verbundes zwischen dem Schicksal des späteren ‘Tractatus’ und der ‘Arbeit’ als Bedingung für seinen Lebensfortbestand als er am 26. Februar 1915 niederschrieb: Denke an Selbstmord. Werde ich je wieder arbeiten??! […] Noch einmal ist Selbstmordabsicht im Tagebuch für den März 1916 belegt […][—]dort als ‘Umwandlung’ der ausbleibenden ‘Arbeit’ in die eigenhändig ausgeschlossene: Ich habe schon seit mehr als einer Woche nichts mehr gearbeitet. Ich habe keine Zeit! Gott! Aber es ist ja natürlich, denn wenn ich tot sein werde, werde ich auch keine Zeit zum Arbeiten haben. (29. 3. 1916)[.] Der Tod, hier als der freie durch Vergiftung belegt, ist nur die Konsequenz aus dem Zustand des der ‘Arbeit’ vorenthaltenen Lebens, der verlorenen Lebenszeit. Dann, als der Tod auf dem Beobachtungsstand ihm nahekommt, gewinnt das

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In dire circumstances, Wittgenstein resorts to reflecting upon ways out.315 Performatively, contemplation itself—as well as the act of notation—already alters his state of affairs (if virtually). Discerned as a promising measure by previous practice, his deliberation yields that change may be effected by turning to another matter—meaning, to be ‘working’ (as far as the setting might permit); or by ending the situation altogether.316

|| Leben für einen Moment durch die Ferne zur ‘Arbeit’: Hätte jetzt reichlich Zeit und Ruhe zum Arbeiten. Aber es rührt sich nichts. Mein Stoff ist weit von mir entfernt. Der Tod giebt dem Leben erst seine Bedeutung” (“9. 5. 16”, Verführbarkeit 195–196; Lebensthemen 127–128; with Wittgenstein Geheime 59, II.63, Feb 26, 1915; 67, III.2, March [28–]29, 1916; 71, III.13, May 9, 1916). It might be noted that the latter adds a particular accent, which is lost in transcription: “Ich habe keine Zeit!” (Geheime 67, III.2; the ed. logs: “Einfache Unterstreichungen wurden kursiv gesetzt”, 12n.). As to the universal questions implied, see Blumenberg: “Zeitgewinn ist eine fundamentale anthropologische Kategorie. Dies nicht nur deshalb, weil der Ursprung des Menschen mit dem Gewinn von Distanz verbunden ist, die ihm Verzögerungen und Umwege, Rituale und Umständlichkeiten, Reflexion und Zaudern erlaubt, sondern auch, weil in der Leistung des Begriffs schon das äußerste und letzte Maß für jeden Zeitgewinn enthalten ist, die Selbstnegation, den Tod zu denken. Durch den Begriff des Endes wird jeder Zeitgewinn von absoluter Kostbarkeit und Unersetzlichkeit” (Beschreibung 608). 315 See Blumenberg as to “wie trotz widriger Bedingungen etwas zu erreichen ist”—precisely “damit wir nicht ganz ohne Genuß dahinfahren” (citing at Jünger 52). Cf. subchs. 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 10.3. 316 In this respect, see Blumenberg, quoting the arch-Phenomenologist (in italics): “Ich mußte philosophieren, sonst konnte ich in dieser Welt nicht leben. So antwortete Husserl” (Lebenswelt 47). “In strömender Lebensgegenwart ist das Sein-zum-Tode deskriptiv unauffindbar: Leben ist ein Fortleben” (Lebenszeit 11n.). “Husserls Pathosformel vom Ohne-Philosophie-nicht-lebenkönnen hat auch den Rigorismus der ‘Reduktion’ getragen, die sich doch als unvollendbares Diktat erweisen sollte. Aber sie setzte Husserl instand, für das letzte Jahrfünft seines Lebens die Einsamkeit anzunehmen, die ihm in Freiburg aufgezwungen wurde. Es war, als hätte er sich ein Leben lang auf sie vorbereitet und sie machte jenen fatalen Satz war: Trotz der Ausschließung suchte er in der Reduktion weiter die Antwort auf die Fragen, die allen gestellt waren. Der Untergang, die Realität gewordene Reduktion, verschonte ihn, der das absolute Subjekt als Residuum der Weltvernichtung konzipiert hatte. Als hätte noch sein Werk, das beinahe unendliche, an der Festigkeit des absoluten Grundes partizipiert, überstand es den Untergang, als es der mutige Franziskaner Leo van Breda nach Löwen transferierte […]. Van Breda hat auch noch die nochmals beinahe unendliche Arbeit der Nachlaßedition organisiert” (Lebensthemen 135). In this respect, Blumenberg cites Lübbe: “noch das amtliche Schreiben, auf dem dieses Verbot [sc. ‘die Stätte seines Forschens und Lehrens zu betreten’] mitgeteilt war, hat Husserl auf der Rückseite mit philosophischen Notizen bedeckt. Das ist ein Fall des ‘Weitermachens’, dessen Würde der des Satzes ‘Noli turbare circulos meos’ nicht nachsteht” (Legitimität 270–271). See M. Sommer: “Beharrlichkeit des Weitermachens mit Husserl” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78; plus 79, 81, spec. 86–87); “beharrlich und beständig weitermachen” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 87); “beharrlich weitermachen […]. Und wir beginnen noch einmal von vorn” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 79)—meaning, precisely not from scratch; nor just once (cf. “Zu keiner Zeit” 86).

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The very thought (of labor, else its cessation)—as well as its written articulation—liberates the one concerned, at least to a certain extent: “Danda est animis remissio; […] animorum impetus adsiduus labor franget” (Seneca “de tranquillitate” 280, XVII.5).317 Despite it all, options remain available; this relief is not revoked by whether or not they are put into effect.318 Such and similar experiments of thought will represent contingency in application.319

|| Concerning Husserl’s affine ‘self-call’ to be persevering in ‘limitless labor’, see the references in subch. 5.2 (spec. 5.2.2), herein. On the relationship of “perseverare” and “conservatio sui” generally, cf. Blumenberg (“Selbsterhaltung” 156; plus 146, 187, 200, 200n.; referring to Spinoza). As to Nietzsche, he stresses “die nackte Durchhaltbarkeit” (Realität 60; plus 128; and KSA 11. 109, 25[371]). See also subch. 10.2.2, herein. With respect to Valéry’s “eiserne[r] […] Disziplin”, Amslinger employs this most expedient formula: “immer weiterschreiben” (178). Mutatis mutandis, this will hold good for Blumenberg, as well. 317 “The mind must be given relaxation; […] constant labour will break the vigour of the mind” (“de tranquillitate” 281, XVII.5). Cf. Marquard—“Jedenfalls aber macht die Nähe zum Ende den Blick frei: Mortalität ermöglicht Liberalität, auch und gerade für die Theorie” (“Finalisierung” 475). Seeing as the virtual possibility—enabled by the notion of contingency— may suffice, neither need the termination actually be ultimate: as in labor, so in life. 318 This might be related to the respite yielded by physical rest (“Wer einschläft, gibt seinen Geist unter Vorbehalt auf”, Lebenszeit 91), even should one wake up to a similar set of external problems as had been faced before having fallen asleep. Not incidentally, Blumenberg refers to said alternative by recourse to Fontane: “Er legt sich am hellichten Tage schlafen. […] Auch so also sehen Selbstbefreiungen aus. Es bedurfte der Aura von Sedan, um es mit solcher Emphase zu proklamieren” (Gerade 102–103; Vor allem 120–121). 319 Blumenberg stresses Montaigne’s “‘humanistische[s]’ Verfahren[…] als Geltenlassen noch des fabulösen Belegs[—]im Hinblick auf Möglichkeit statt Wirklichkeit[—]mit der Zurüstung des Stoikers auf ‘Gleich-gültigkeit’ dessen, was ihm widerfährt. Schließlich ist es nur tröstlich, daß nicht alles wirklich vorgefallen ist und vorfallen wird, was möglich wäre” (Höhlen. 280; cf. 34). His references are to the ensuing—“Aussi en l’étude que je traite de nos mœurs et mouvements: les témoignages fabuleux pourvu qu’ils soient possibles y servent comme les vrais. Advenu ou non advenu, à Paris ou à Rome, à J[e]an ou à Pierre, c’est toujours un tour de l’humaine capacité, duquel je suis utilement avisé par ce récit. Je le vois et en fais mon profit également en ombre que en corps. Et aux diverses leçons qu’ont souvent les histoires je prends à me servir de celle qui est la plus rare et mémorable. Il y [a] des auteurs desquels la fin c’est dire les événements. La mienne si j’y savais advenir serait dire sur ce qui peut advenir” (Essais I. 253, I.xxi; brackets around “[a]” in the source; see Essays 75, I.21). “Mais puisque les provisions qu’on y peut apporter sont pleines d’inquiétude, et d’incertitude, il vaut mieux d’une belle assurance se préparer à tout ce qui en pourra advenir, et tirer quelque consolation de ce qu’on n’est pas assuré qu’il advienne” (Essais I. 294, I.xxiv; with Essays 97, I.24). Generally, cf. Krauthausen: “kontingente Erfahrung […] wird […] unter selbst gewählten Umständen und mit einem konstruierten Analogon, also als […] Gedankenexperiment reinszeniert” (63; infinitized; plus “Ergebnisoffenheit”, 62n.).

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The philosopher struggles to preserve his scope under conditions that seem to have cut off most possibilities: “Where the factual makes us helpless, we encircle it by the possible” (Blumenberg Lebensthemen 75; trans. dsm).320 When escaping into work fails to do so, the ultimate enactment of one’s freedom and agency might have a tendency of gradually standing to reason.321 In case ‘auxiliary constructions’ (such as noetic, verbal labor) threaten to disintegrate, a final failsafe must be in place—at least conceivably. For even then, things may yet be otherwise (meaning, not at all). In a contingent world, conditions also change spontaneously. When facing a personal deadlock, fors just so happens to aid Wittgenstein in a twofold way: by chance, it brings him close to perishment; luckily, it permits his survival. Being alive (re)gains meaning from this proximity (effected by external events). For a time, coincidence takes on the function of artful ‘adjuvant constructs’.322 To some extent, týche and téchne can produce comparable consequences.323 Within the above segment, Blumenberg had intercalated what will likely be Wittgenstein’s most notorious saying (the one about discontinuing the latter, precisely when one cannot; Verführbarkeit 196; see 197).324 In this way, said essay may be tied in with the brief one that ensues.325 It commences as follows:

|| 320 “Wo uns das Wirkliche hilflos macht, kreisen wir es mit dem Möglichen ein”. 321 “in der Wahl des Todes [‘kann’] auch Vernunft sein” (Blumenberg Arbeit 108). Cf. “Noch wenn er [sc. ‘der Mensch’] Selbstmord begeht, wendet er einen letzten aller seiner Kunstgriffe an: er versucht Selbsterhaltung um jeden Preis, selbst den des Lebens” (Beschreibung 550). 322 See Marquard: “zu[…]r Freiheit gehört die Anerkennung des Zufälligen” (“Apologie” 132). 323 Cf. Aristotle, de re (NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.5; Rhet. 268–269, 1392b, II.xix.13). See the onsets of chs. 4 and 13; as well as subchs. 3.6 and 4.3, herein. 324 On the (traditional) nexus of death, silence (and keeping it): “Man kann den Tod nicht beschreiben, er ist sogar das einzig absolut Unbeschreibbare. Gerade deshalb aber sind alle ‘vorgegebenen’ Beschreibungen – Inbegriff des der Philosophie nicht auszutreibenden Trotzes gegen das Verdikt, vom Unsagbaren gefälligst auch nichts zu sagen – einander äquivalent. Es ist der Fall, in dem wir über etwas nicht schweigen können, obwohl wir darüber nicht zu sprechen imstande sind. Da es der Fall ist und mithin zu allem, was der Fall ist, gehört, ist dies etwas von der Welt, sogar vom In-der-Welt-sein” (Vor allem 21; Gerade 17). 325 In M. Sommer’s ed. economy; it is entitled “Das Schweigen, um Philosoph zu bleiben” (Verführbarkeit 197–198). “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen” (Verführbarkeit 196; then at 197; see Wittgenstein “Tractatus” 85, §7). Cf. “Was sich nicht sagen läßt, läßt sich nicht sagen!” (Geheime 73, III.16, July 7, 1916). Blumenberg (at Verführbarkeit 197–198) points to the notorious line from Boethius: “‘Iam tandem […] intellegis me esse philosophum?’ […] ‘Intellexeram […] si tacuisses’” (“Phil. Consolat.” 220, II.vii.prose.74–77).

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Of all the counsels, which were ever given by philosophers for their ilk and for others, probably none was followed to a lesser degree than the last main theorem of Wittgenstein’s ‘Tractatus’: What one cannot speak of, one must keep silent about. Acting according to this precept, Wittgenstein himself kept silent from then on. Yet not forever. When he resumed speaking, he came up with the ‘Sprachspiele’[,] as if to make up for what had gone unsaid […]. He carried on; all of us may carry on. Who no longer speculates[—]plays instead. (Verführbarkeit 197; trans. dsm; see 112)326

Not only when in dire straits, ‘linguistic games’ (or such ‘of language’)—the verbal and very enactment of contingency—will be a distinctly Sophistic device or maneuver. A most humane mode under the circumstances, they are adjuvant artifices for eluding the tyrannical grasp of definitionous zealots of truth (lurking in their own glare).327

|| 326 “Von allen Ratschlägen, die jemals von Philosophen für ihresgleichen und für andere gegeben worden sind, ist wohl keiner weniger befolgt worden als der letzte Hauptsatz […] [des] ‘Tractatus’: Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen. Nach dieser Vorschrift handelnd, hat Wittgenstein selbst fortan geschwiegen. Aber nicht für immer. Als er wieder zu sprechen begann, erfand er wie zur Wiedergutmachung am Verschwiegenen die ‘Sprachspiele’ […]. Er hat weitergemacht; wir alle dürfen weitermachen. Wer nicht mehr spekuliert, der spielt eben”. Rendered in idiomatic terms above, Blumenberg’s phrase “wie zur Wiedergutmachung am Verschwiegenen” seems a prosopopoiía of the latter, hence: ‘as if in satisfaction of the Unsaid (qua what had been kept silent)’; i.e. making reparations to the benefit of a personified Taciturnity. Generally: “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen. […] Wittgenstein […] hat ein ganzes Leben an die Übertretung und Verletzung seines eigenen Redeverbots gewendet, als sei es der Inbegriff seiner Arbeit gewesen, derart ein anderer zu werden, daß für ihn nicht mehr zutraf, was er verordnet hatte: die Askese des Schweigens” (Jünger 129; cf. Lebenswelt 88; Höhlen. 784–786; Lebensthemen 73; “Wittgenstein – welcher sich selbst allerdings keineswegs an diesen Satz gehalten hat, sondern ostentativ das Gegenteil zum Inbegriff seiner späteren Philosophie gemacht hat”, Unbegrifflichkeit 38; plus 102). “Was der Phänomenologe in der Nachfolge des Ideals der antiken Skepsis und der unentschiedenen Urteilsqualität der Stoiker die epochē nennt, ist die formelle Entsprechung der Reduktion als des durch sie bewirkten ‘reinen’, also weltenthobenen Zuschauers, der es ‘nicht nötig hat’, Ja oder Nein zu sagen, es also erst aus dem Nicht-nötig-haben heraustretend sagt. Es ist, als sei jenes von Wittgenstein wie von Freud gleichermaßen empfohlene Schweigen nur interimistisch möglich, nicht als vollendete wie vollendende ‘Entsagung’ (welche Genauigkeit des Ausdrucks stellt sich zur Verfügung!)” (Sachen 37). Generally, cf. Blumenberg’s elucidating clause in an affine context: “obwohl jeder weiß, daß man es trotzdem nicht lassen wird” (“Glossen [1983]” 30; “Frage” 33). 327 On Sophistic elusiveness, see Plato (“Sophist” 288–289, 223C; 298–299, 226A; 318–319, 231C; 330–331, 235B; 346–347, 239C; 350–351, 240C; 354–355, 241C; 402–403, 254A; 430–431, 261A–B; passim). As regards “sparing oneself [t]he glariness of a being of Being [‘eines Seiendseienden’]”, cf. Blumenberg (Höhlen. 280; trans. dsm).

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Withstanding all Platonisms (see “Sophist” 402–403, 254A), there seems to be a “right to one’s own obscurity” (Andreas-Salomé 115–116; trans. dsm)—by way and virtue of assorted forms of indirection: “What with [y]our light? A darkness remains” (Fontane Wanderungen II. 348).328 Taking the playful way out will appear as a plausible alternative to the “absolutism of verity” and its addicts (Blumenberg Rigorismus 11; trans. dsm).329 In a contingent world, stranger things have—just so—happened than even a virtual death by proxy; not to mention the substitution of hemming and hawing on the part of unapologetic recklessness by a clandestine escape to Crete.330 With all its detours, the course taken by Wittgenstein proved him a true Socratic indeed (hence word).331 Having become the knowing ignorance one is, a lack of understanding might be understood (or sought withal).332 Fighting logic with ‘pharmacology’ will always have the last say (not to mention the laughing).333 A systematist’s rigor mortis is replaced by the elegant interplayfulness and mutable fluidity of eloquence (to say nothing of levity).334 || 328 She declares: “Es ist aber das Recht auf die eigne Dunkelheit sehr wichtig” (115–116; also in: Blumenberg Beschreibung 788, see 789n.; Die nackte Wahrheit 7; Nietzsche Menschliches [KSA 2] 58, I.2.36). “Was will unser Licht? Ein Dunkel bleibt” (Fontane Wanderungen II. 348; motto for ‘Falkenrhede’; cf. Böschenstein Facetten 466). See Niehues-Pröbsting as to “den Zusammenhang von Rhetorik und Leiblichkeit […] Anthropologie […] Freiheit […][:] deren Möglichkeitsbedingung ist […] die Undurchschaubarkeit der Person” (Einsicht 108). 329 “Absolutismus der Wahrheit”. See A. Meyer (“Anmerkungen” 29n.). 330 Not to mention the Ovidian option (Metamorph. I–VIII. 124, III.1–2). Cf. “if Socrates had escaped from prison, he would have gone to Crete, where he was wholly unknown and would have come to sight only as an Athenian stranger” (Strauss Argument 2; plus What is Political 33). Cf. Plato (“Apology” 112–113, 31A, §18); with a difference, Derrida (“Plato’s Pharmacy” 147); von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 236); Niehues-Pröbsting (Die antike Phil. 161): “Die Lächerlichkeit des Philosophen vor Gericht resultiert aus einem rhetorischen Versagen” (“Mythos” 32). 331 Blumenberg asserts: “Wittgenstein ist ein Erbe der Sokratik, auch in der hinterhältigen Manier, in der er sich mit Gegenfragen aus Schwierigkeiten heraushilft” (Löwen 65). 332 Cf. “daß es ihm […] gelegentlich auch Spaß machte, nicht zu verstehen, nicht verstehen zu wollen” (Blumenberg “Nachruf” 70; infinitized; he is speaking of Rothacker; and—since this can never be excluded in such contexts—most likely also about himself). 333 See Plato (“Phaedrus” passim; spec. 424–425, 230D, §5; and 562–563, 274E, §59). Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (Einsicht 160; “Platon-Kritik” 139; “Mythos” 43). For assorted detours and collusive ramifications thereto (albeit with seemingly obscuring intent), see Derrida’s performative piece (“Plato’s Pharmacy” passim; spec. 70–73, 99–100, 118–119, 128–130; plus the very fact that it culminates in “Play”, 156–171, here: 156)—as always, cum grano salis. Möller remarks that in a “rhetorisch geprägten Welt […] nicht nur die Thrakerinnen [‘lachen’], sondern auch die Philosophen” (“Das distanzierte Leben” 15). 334 As will stand to reason, the latter must be delegated (to Rochester, say): “Much wine had passed, with grave discourse” (40, v.1).

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Standing in for the next crestfallen truth seeker, one may well be facing yet another undisguised “lover of discourse” (“τοῦ τῶν λόγων ἐραστοῦ”, Plato “Phaedrus” 416–417, 228C, §2).335 Rather than leave, one might attend to the cultivation of one’s leaves (ut cultura horti philologia).336 Even philosophy (soi-disant) would be nothing without the jackshaft of rhetoric. Ultimately, all its work will be play (and no but): Spielen statt Schweigen.337 Since last words might be fabricated, if plausibly so: this may well be it (meaning, to refrain from them—and continue with one’s fortunate failure to be a philosopher).338

|| 335 Cf. also Plato (“Phaedrus” 416–417, 228B, §2; expressly: “φιλολόγῳ”, 442, 236E, §13; nor without 442–443, 237A, §13). On the former, see Eden/Shankman (7)—with respect to Trimpi. 336 Regarding Blumenberg’s accent on ‘weitermachen’, Küpper (n. to the ms. of the ch. at hand; Aug. 16, 2016) observes a proximity to Voltaire’s notable dictum: “il faut cultiver notre jardin” (“Candide” 237, §30). Cf. subch. 11.1.1. Generally, see Nietzsche’s refunctionalization of a Ciceronian dictum: “si hortum cum bibliotheca habes, nihil deerit” (KSA 13. 14, 11[18]). The orator has: “Si hortum in bibliotheca habes, deerit nihil” (Friends II. 194, IX.iv; Williams glosses: “‘plain living and high thinking’”, 195n.; plus the proper firewall: Columella 132, XI.iii.7). This ‘natural’ alliance may yield another vista regarding a state of affairs Blumenberg describes as follows—“Epikur hat […] das Bild einer paradiesischen Lässigkeit hinterlassen: seine Schule ein Garten […]. Doch ist dieses Bild durch den Zufall mitbestimmt: Von Epikur sind, aus leidigen Gründen der Mißbilligung, nur Fragmente geblieben. Tatsächlich war er ein Vielschreiber” (Verführbarkeit 149; as to the latter, cf. D. Laertius Lives II. 554–555, X.26). There surely is no need for the one to rule out the other: a convivencia of apparent contradictions is possible—live and dead leaves may cohabit; folia volant, dicta manent. 337 Blumenberg stresses: “Dieser Ausdruck [‘Sprachspiele’] gehört selbst in ein ‘Sprachspiel’, das zumindest zuläßt, daß mit der Sprache gespielt wird, wo sonst nach jener früheren Vorschrift geschwiegen werden müßte” (Verführbarkeit 197). Needless to say, playfulness has a long philosophical tradition: “αἰὼν παῖς ἐστι παίζων, πεσσεύων” (Heracleitus in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 162, 22B52; cf. 494–495, LXXIX); not to mention Gorgias (“ἐμὸν δὲ παίγνιον”, Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 294, 82B11, §21; with “Helen” 762, 49[F10]). See Lucian (“Sale” 476–477, §14); Nietzsche (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 153, §24); Rorty: “playfulness is the product of” an “ability to appreciate the power of redescribing” (Contingency 39; infinitized). As to a nexus of ‘limitless labor’, ‘relief’, ‘play’, Blumenberg speaks of the “Phänomen der Verwechselbarkeit von Arbeit und ‘Erholung’”—not incidentally in a Fontanean context (Vor allem 98; Gerade 83). 338 Taking Blumenberg at his word(s): “Letzte Worte dürfen erfunden sein, wenn sie gut erfunden sind, da sie ohnehin zumeist erfunden werden müssen” (Höhlen. 386n.; cf. “Glossen [1983]” 28; “Frage” 33); “nachträglich geschaffene Konsistenz [ist] nichts Verwerfliches” (Sorge 222). “Trotzdem bin ich zuversichtlich, daß meine Fiktion – weil Fiktionen doch immer stärker sind als Fakten – überleben wird” (Verführbarkeit 108).

11 Blumenberg’s Rhetoric— With a Case Study on Fontane Die Erfahrung der Macht der Rhetorik ist aus den Fundamenten der Geschichte der Philosophie nicht wegzudenken. —Blumenberg (Realität 13)1 We have to do what we can, for the one and ultimate reason that we are not gods. —Blumenberg (Vollzählig. 214; trans. dsm)2

Referring both to the general téchne and its particular application, the present chapter’s title is taken in its very polysemy. Accordingly, it submits an—entirely tentative—approach to Blumenberg’s (understanding of) rhetoric, specifically in structural, discursive, meta-theoretical (11.1), applied or pragmatic (11.2), as well as poetico-hermeneutic (11.3) respects. The first section deals with the archai or ground swell—certain of the most basic choices likely to subtend this philosopher’s écriture. The second has heuristic recourse to the initial three phases of rhetorical (thought and word) processing, in order to provisionally review his written eloquence along their lines.3 The third evinces a subtle interplay of textual reception and production. Whereas the latter—a case study on Fontane, prompted by Blumenberg’s reading—aims at eliciting, detailing the nexus between a venerable rhetorical genus and applied contingency (11.3), the two preceding subchapters (11.1, 11.2) are more general in nature, conceived as exploratory takes on the philosopher’s extensive œuvre—precisely along the lines of the téchne kat’ exochén.4 ‘Principiis obsta’: Blumenberg is not a systematician—neither in general, nor of rhetoric in particular.5 Not only is this caveat needful in deference to

|| 1 “The foundations of philosophy’s history cannot be conceived without the experience of rhetoric’s power” (trans. dsm). Iterated with variation (at Realität 42; cf. 45). 2 “Wir müssen tun, was wir können, aus dem einen und letzten Grunde, weil wir keine Götter sind”. Needless to say, said capacities comprise the crafting of deities. 3 Whereas memoria is considered under inventio, pronuntiatio will not be addressed spec. As to the latter, one of the few publicly available records of the philosopher’s spoken performance might be consulted: a 1967 radio report on ‘machines and progress’; available as a supplement (in compact disk format) to the posthumously published Geistesgeschichte der Technik. 4 While a variety of texts is taken into account, the present—expressly poly-perspectival— approach is altogether provisional, disclaims comprehensiveness. In view of the sheer quantity of works already available—but spec. Blumenberg’s extensive philosophical estate (whence diverse texts, fragments, scripts continue to be ed.)—this proviso will stand to reason. 5 See Marquard: “principiis obsta! – philosophischer Antiabsolutismus” (“Laudatio” 54). As in https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-011

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certain of his (partial, near) contemporaries with (just) such an interest—Curtius earlier, most eminently Lausberg, H. F. Plett or Ueding later.6 More importantly, a logifying co-optation of his ‘work on metaphor’ must be guarded against.7 This philosopher is a rhapsodic thinker, writer.8 With Amslinger’s felicitous formulation: “In Valéry the same as in Blumenberg, the manufacturing of a text

|| love, so in philosophy (pace politics): “Principiis obsta; sero medicina paratur, / Cum mala per longas convaluere moras”—“Resist beginnings; too late is the medicine prepared, when the disease has gained strength by long delay” (Ovid “Remedia” 184–185, v.91–92). While the accent on a re-, upvaluation of rhetoric is pertinent—“die abschätzige Bedeutung von Rhetorik, gegen die Blumenberg […] angearbeitet hat”—such does not seem to justify (much less entail) Haverkamp’s recherché substitutions: “Poetik an der Stelle von Ästhetik, Metapher an der Stelle von Hermeneutik, Rhetorik an der Stelle von Technik” (“Technik” 441–442; Halbzeug 17). At any rate, said critic’s proviso for his construal (“was nicht heißt, daß Blumenberg die Worte ästhetisch, hermeneutisch und vollends Technisierung vermiede”; “Technik” 442; Halbzeug 17) will amount to its revocation. To say nothing of other considerations, (tacitly) applying Derrida (Dissemination 3; 6n.; 18n.; 21; see Haverkamp “Technik” 441; 446, 446n.; “Skandalon” 36; Halbzeug 17; 21, 21n.; 32) to someone, who deemed ‘postmodernity ready for the culling’ (“schlachtreife[…] ‘Postmoderne’”, Blumenberg Höhlen. 798) will probably encounter serious difficulties—that is, if calculated to seem plausible at all. 6 Like the earlier, notable work by Curtius (passim), Lausberg’s meticulous research (Elemente passim; Handbuch passim) has earned international acclaim (incl. various trans.). Writing somewhat later, H. F. Plett’s publications (cf. Systematische Rhet. passim)—spec. on Early Modern rhetoric (see Renaissance Rhet. passim; Rhet. and Renaissance Culture passim)—are widely acclaimed. These works—as well as the monumental Historical Dictionary of Rhetoric, ed. by Ueding (the first vol. issued in 1992, the twelfth and final in 2015)—begin to appear in the 1990s, shortly before and after Blumenberg’s passing (in 1996). 7 Unless one cares to misrepresent, invert the tendency of his thought and technique. To some degree, Blumenberg’s early choice of the term ‘metaphorology’ is partly responsible for such systematist pains (still fashionable, but no less misguided de re). For the suffix ‹-logy› is not unlikely to exert an (apparently irresistible) attraction to such as show or profess a proclivity for rigor-, essentialism. His conceptual reaccentuation as to other fields—like ongoing ‘work on myth’ (cf. e.g. Arbeit 13; 33, 68, 295, 303), ‘description of man’ (an express revision of the title, as per M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 897)—not only insinuate uneasiness with the typical jargon (‘mythology’, ‘anthropology’); for Blumenberg’s alternative phrases are deliberate, wary choices, signaling a change or variation in the general approach. Cf. Marquard: “Entlastung von der absoluten Terminologie” (“Entlastung [1991]” 25); and ch. 5 (spec. 5.2.1). 8 In several conversations since 2010, the above adjective—most apposite for describing Blumenberg’s style (of thought)—was employed by Küpper, who encouraged engaging with the philosopher in question; this intellectual inducement is gratefully acknowledged. Said term is used in its etymological sense, stressing the first component (from “rháptein to stitch”); a later, seventeenth century sense (“extravagantly enthusiastic”) is not intended (Barnhart/Steinmetz 925, s.v. ‘rhapsody’, ‘rhapsodic’; cf. also Onions et al. 764, s.v. ‘rhapsody’; Merriam-Webster, “rhapsody”, excluding entry #3; Kluge 599, s.v. ‘Rhapsodie’; Hornsby/Brogan 1175). Withal, see

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amounts to the production of wattlework [‘Flechtwerk’]” (176; trans. dsm; see 197).9 Far removed from such as proclaim (perchance even believe) themselves capable of ‘starting from scratch’ (be they Cartesians or jaded Romantics), the philosopher’s noetic, textual endeavors ‘tie in with’ previous efforts, œuvres.10 Recurrently, he precisely ‘takes up’ a given proverb, aphorism, or formula qua cue—then developed discursively, poly-perspectivally, aided by frequent forays and deviations: “His work is not dependent on being traversed telically. It teaches the taking of detours” (H. Ritter “Der Arbeiter” 33; trans. dsm).11 This hypoleptico-inductive method produces, also loosely organizes, his text(ure)s by way and virtue of (nominal) association, (subtle) allusion—often meanderingly, at times obliquely, and open-endedly on the whole: “dass es unabgeschlossen bleibt” (Waszynski “Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 36).12 For anything might as well be otherwise, or not at all. Blumenberg’s écriture is a mise en abyme of (an awareness as to) contingency—its basic condition of possibility.13 || Blumenberg’s sympathetic citation of Schopenhauer’s generic suggestion for Gracián’s Criticón als “Spanische Rhapsodie” (“Grundprobleme” 348, ‘Vorrede’ of 1840; plus Randschriften 492; Blumenberg Lesbarkeit 110). Considering the design of said work (see Gracián Criticón passim), the term at issue will seem most appropriate in just the sense here intended. Cf. Sommer: “Blumenberg betreibt die Restitution genau jenes makròs lógos, den Platons Sokrates als typisch für die Rhapsoden und Sophisten betrachtet” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 81). 9 Zambon speaks of “einem fein austarierten Gefüge”: “Assoziationslust und phantasievolles Verweben” (Nachleuchten 23). Flasch mentions “das feine Blumenbergsche Gewebe” (510). 10 Cf. Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 85); Marquard: “Niemand steht auf einem Nullpunkt” (Glück 120). While the milieu is highly problematic, an (incidental) mention of “Blumenbergs Tendenz zur Anknüpfung an Gegebenes” (Haverkamp “Technik” 441; Halbzeug 17) is to the point (not the ‘genealogical’ vector affixed to said “hermeneutische Tugend”: “Skandalon” 33; Halbzeug 29). As to the nexus of rhapsodes, hypólepsis, rhetoric, cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 242n.; 247n.). 11 On “Blumenbergs Umwege”, see the expedient précis on the part of Heidgen/Koch/Köhler (9–19 passim; spec. 9–12, 15–16, 18). Cf. Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 77; 81; 87); Amslinger (10); Flasch (204); Blumenberg’s self-chosen ‘motto’ in the FAZ (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; reprinted in: “Fragebogen [1988]” 196). A posthumous essai (re)accentuates the same in a ‘detouring’ context—“Grundformel […]: Mach einen Umweg” (citing Ibsen at Realität 129; with 127–131). 12 “that it may remain unfinalized” (trans. dsm). Taking up the philosopher’s own procedure, mutatis mutandis: “Blumenberg war ein Physiognomiker der vielen Gesichter des Denkens” (H. Ritter “Der Arbeiter” 33). With an inductive arché, the resp. and laborious process tends to advance in infinitum: “Entwurf einer unendlichen Aufgabe und Antrieb zur unendlichen Arbeit an ihr” (Blumenberg Phänomen. 76); “lebenslange Arbeit an der Verfeinerung” (Lebenswelt 127), “am Allgemeinen” (Sorge 216). As opposed to a deductive methodology, the ‘kathólou’ is a tentatively approachable—but ultimately unreachable—télos, here. 13 See Reichel’s apposite assessment: “Das Denken in Möglichkeiten […] ha[t] bei Blumenberg Methode […]. Die Maßgabe: ‘Es könnte auch anders sein’” prevents him from drawing “definitive Schlüsse aus seinen Analysen” (216; with 217).

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Mindful of the latter, the present approach to his œuvre via assorted dispositifs of rhetoric aims at being performative, in the sense of proceeding along the lines—tentatively tracking, retracing the (way)marks and (im)prints— of the philosopher’s noetic paths (Denkwege), as sedimented in his writing.14 Certain distinctive sententiae taken up and varied (respectively endorsed)—very literally ‘in passing’—may serve as the corresponding signposts, providing an attentive reader with heuristic guidance.15

|| 14 For the etymological nexus of ‘pathfulness’ and ‘method’, cf. subchs. 5.1.3, 5.2.1. Generally, see Möller’s pertinent remark that “Vorstellungen von Rhetorik der Antike […] für Blumenberg auch dort relevant sind, wo er dies nicht zu erkennen gibt” (“Das distanzierte Leben” 3). 15 On Blumenberg’s and Fontane’s subtle ‘poetics of the en passant’—whereby what might seem incidental prima facie may well turn out to be pivotal or vital—cf. subch. 11.3, herein.

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11.1 ‘Sola Humana Arte’: Concern at, for, with Wordcraft for nothing is more fictive than the [impression of a] proximity to factuality. —von Moos (“Gespräch” 215; trans. dsm)16

As oratory is a pragmatic art, one may well commence with an (in Blumenberg’s words) “professionally malicious dialog”—ventriloquized by Fontane, cited and glossed by the philosopher with respect to the téchne at issue: ‘Dear Kahle, you’re not an actor, you’re a rhetorician’. – ‘But, Mr. Döring, didn’t I . . .’ – ‘Sure, you do have your successes. Admittedly. There sure was frenetic applause once more. Yet you did not reach the heart, only the ear. You’re a rhetorician’. – ‘But, Mr. Döring . . .’ – ‘Have a try[, try] it yourself. You do not have a persuasive natural tone. You’re a rhetorician. When we’re done [here], go over [there] to [‘]Lutter and Wegener[’] and order half a bottle of red wine for yourself. I assure you, you’ll be waiting forever, – the waiter won’t bring you a single [bottle] . . . ’ – ‘But Mr. Döring . . . if I order red wine for myself . . . why shouldn’t he bring me [the wine]?’ – ‘Because he won’t believe you’. (Fontane qtd. in: Blumenberg Begriffe 164–165, s.v. ‘Rhetorik’; trans. dsm)17

|| 16 “denn nichts ist Fiktiver als die Wirklichkeitsnähe”. On the expedient distinction between ‘fictiveness’ and ‘fictionality’, see Kablitz (Kunst 165–178): “Skalieren läßt sich […] das Fiktive, nicht aber das Fiktionale” (Kunst 169; plus 169n. as to a ‘qualitative scalability’); and his description of the latter: “‘Fiktionalität’ besagt […] daß ein Text von der anderweitig geltenden Verpflichtung befreit ist, wahre Aussagen machen zu müssen” (Kunst 175; with 175n.). 17 “einen berufsboshaften Dialog”: “‘Lieber Kahle, Sie sind kein Schauspieler, Sie sind ein Rhetor’. – ‘Aber, Herr Döring, ich habe doch . . .’ – ‘Ja, sie haben Ihre Erfolge. Zugegeben. Es war ja wieder frenetischer Beifall. Aber das Herz haben Sie nicht getroffen, nur das Ohr. Sie sind ein Rhetor’. – ‘Aber, Herr Döring . . .’ – ‘Machen Sie selber den Versuch. Sie haben keinen überzeugenden Naturton. Sie sind ein Rhetor. Gehen Sie, wenn wir fertig sind, ’rüber zu Lutter und Wegener und bestellen Sie sich eine halbe Flasche Rotwein. Ich versichere Ihnen, Sie können lange warten, – der Küfer bringt Ihnen keine . . .’ – ‘Aber Herr Döring . . . Wenn ich mir Rotwein bestelle . . . Warum soll er ihn mir nicht bringen?’ – ‘Weil er’s Ihnen nicht glaubt’” (Fontane qtd. in: Blumenberg Begriffe 164–165; trans. dsm; cf. Mayfield “Interplay” 22n.). More literally, “Küfer” might be trans. ‘wine cooper’. In a letter of 1894, Fontane cites a variant of said anecdote—wherein he aligns himself with the waiter: “‘Lieber Kahle, Sie sind kein Schauspieler, Sie sind ein Rhetor’. / ‘… Aber lieber Herr Döring!’ / ‘Sie sind ein Rhetor’. / ‘Aber ich habe doch auch meine Erfolge …’ / ‘Täuschung, lieber Kahle. Machen Sie den Versuch, gehen Sie von hier direkt rüber zu Lutter und Wegener und bestellen Sie sich bei dem Küfer Wilhelm, einem Freunde von mir, eine halbe Flasche St. Julien’. / ‘Nun? …’ / ‘Er bringt sie Ihnen nicht’. / ‘Aber warum denn nicht, lieber Herr Döring?’ / ‘Er glaubt es Ihnen nicht’. So wirkt [Lessing’s] Philotas. Ich bin ganz der Küfer Wilhelm und glaube ihm seine halbe Flasche St. Julien nicht” (Fontane Briefe 1890–1898. 338, §346). The variance between the two versions cited may seem patent. Intratextually, the latter is less effectually told (spec. the intercalation “einem Freunde von mir” will hardly be helpful, rhetorically speaking). Naturally, Fontane is

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In one respect, a most cunning pun of this exchange might be its performative contradiction: no actual ‘orator’—qua ‘vir bonus (sive malus) dicendi peritus’— would lay down in such a verbal coffin, while waiting patiently until the other drives the final nail home (figuratively speaking).18 Even if ultimately based on hearsay, Blumenberg’s commentary takes this altercation to be crafted by Fontane, at least in part; and reasonably so, since a plausible sermocinatio does require considerable skill to seem ‘natural’ (hence effectual)—likely the case here.19 In always other words: the ‘real’ rhetorician is the subtle prosaist, concealing his art—the very fact of his involvement.20 Delicately, Blumenberg’s gloss points in this general direction: “times of ‘Realism’” (else “all kinds of naturalism”) tend to hold the belief that one can afford to forego rhetoric. If one espouses nature or [adheres] to nature, not even art is to be artificial. In such times, one even berates an actor by accusing him of rhetoric. (Begriffe 164, s.v. ‘Rhetorik’; trans. dsm)21

|| likely to have adapted the tale to the extra-narrative, epistolary needs (seeing his equalization precisely with that ‘waiter-friend Wilhelm’). The above passage is also treated in Blumenberg’s collected essays on Fontane, published posthumously (Gerade 106–108, here: 107; Vor allem 125–127, at 126). Yet the philosopher’s overall essay (Begriffe 164–166), spec. his commentary, is shorter (or abridged) in said versions, which lack the final paragraph—opening with an allusion to Nietzsche, concluding with a gloss on Schopenhauer (see Begriffe 165–166). 18 Cato the Censor (as per Seneca the Elder): “Orator est […] vir bonus dicendi peritus”. “An orator […] is a good man skilled in speaking” (Controv. 1–6. 8–10, 1.Pref.9; cf. Quintilian Inst. Orat. 11–12. 196–197, 12.1.1; with 196n.). See subchs. 3.7 and 13.2, herein. 19 Blumenberg’s initial formulation suggests ventriloquism: “Fontane hat in Entwürfen […] Döring und […] Kahle […] einen berufsboshaften Dialog führen lassen” (Begriffe 164; Gerade 107; Vor allem 126). After citing it, he adds: “Auch und gerade wenn Fontane nachdichtend dem Garderobengefecht der beiden Bühnenhelden aufgeholfen hätte” (Begriffe 165; Gerade 107; Vor allem 127). The latter two collections gloss that Fontane had heard “a variant” of this “Döringgeschichte” from a third party (Gerade 108n.; trans. dsm; Vor allem 127n.). See the yarn’s framework in the aforecited letter of 1894: “Der Schauspieler Grube hat mir vor einigen Monaten eine Döringgeschichte erzählt. Döring stand ganz gut mit Kahle, hielt ihn aber von Anfang an für einen schwachen Schauspieler” (Fontane Briefe 1890–1898. 338, §346). 20 A case study (subch. 11.3) will return to Fontane—tying in with said insinuation of subtlety. 21 “Ästhetisch gilt das für Zeiten des ‘Realismus’, für alle Arten von Naturalismen: es sich leisten können, auf Rhetorik zu verzichten. Hält man es mit der Natur oder auf Natur, hat nicht einmal die Kunst künstlich zu sein. Selbst einen Schauspieler beschimpft man dann, indem man ihn der Rhetorik bezichtigt” (Begriffe 164; cf. the cases at Realität 218–219; with 211; at Die nackte Wahrheit 115–116). The zeugmatic construction (generally characteristic of Blumenberg) is polyvalent. For “auf Natur” (sans definite article) may also be rendered ‘naturally’, which would require a change in the English syntax. Either way, the phrase seems an allusion to the Greek ‘katà phýsin’ (‘in accord with nature’)—a Stoic slogan (also used by Peripatetics, but in a

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In historico-taxonomic regards, Blumenberg limns the—downright oratorical— employment of ‘charging or reproaching’ someone precisely with ‘rhetoric’ as follows: “The constant of th[is] concept is located in the difference […] it marks, in the contrast” to what (at a given time) is taken to be “the validity of factuality [‘Wirklichkeitsgeltung’]”; meaning, in “the Classical difference of rhetoric to ‘naturalness’” (Begriffe 165, s.v. ‘Rhetorik’; trans. dsm).22 Ultimately, this issue refers to the Ancient antithesis of phýsis and téchne— omnipresent, controversially effectual, by the time of the Greek Sophists (at the latest).23 Blumenberg dedicated several essays and paragraphs to this alleged opposition; and commented on the various value judgments—else attempts at harmonization—attaching thereto, or concerned therewith.24 The titles of early articles display this focus: ‘The Relationship of Nature and Techne qua Philosophical Problem’ (of 1951; “Verhältnis [2001]” 255, 261;

|| less ‘weaponized’ or ‘loaded’ manner, rhetorically speaking). See Mayfield (Artful 20n.; 27n.; 54; 57n.; 73, 73n.; 98; 368; 386); plus the n. below; and subchs. 10.2.2, 13.2, herein. 22 “Rhetorikvorwurf”. “Die Konstante des Begriffs [sc. rhetoric] steckt in der Differenz, die er markiert, im Kontrast der Wirklichkeitsgeltung”—i.e. “die klassische Differenz der Rhetorik zur ‘Natürlichkeit’”. The synthetic leaning of the German language may cause an alteration of sense when transposed into a predominantly analytical one. The term “Wirklichkeitsgeltung” is further complicated in that its first constituent is polysemous: it might also mean ‘reality’, ‘effectuality’—both problematic (the latter here, the former generally, as per the very argument given). Withal, “[G]eltung” may well be given as ‘legitimacy’—which could bring up additional issues in a Blumenbergian context (see Legitimität passim; spec. 410). Cf. the philosopher’s remarks on the concept’s significance (“Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 92); its nexus to rhetoric (“Annäher. [2000]” 71; “Annäher. [2001]” 423; 426; Lesbarkeit 10); and—of particular virulence for the above milieu—to ‘nature’: “das legitimierende φύσει” (“Augustins Anteil” 41). 23 See Blumenberg (spec. “Verhältnis [2001]” 255; passim)—who also renders it problematic (e.g. at zur Technik 163; “Lebenswelt [2012]” 7). Cf. subchs. 3.6, 4.1 to 4.3, and 8.2, herein. 24 In hindsight, Aristotle’s is the most prominent attempt at harmonizing: “Natur und ‘Kunst’ sind strukturgleich” (Blumenberg “Nachahmung [2001]” 10; with 9, 9n.); “τέχνη und φύσις sind gleichsinnige Konstitutionsprinzipien, das eine bewirkt von außen, was das andere von innen zustande bringt” (“Nachahmung [2001]” 27; plus 27n.; referring to Aristotle “Met. 10–14” 128–129, 107a, XII.iii.2; Phys. 1–4. 172–173, 199a, II.viii; Pol. 632–633, VII.xv.11). A not altogether dissimilar effort will be a noted essay on Emerson’s part, spec. its ch. on ‘Commodity’ (“Nature” 27–55; here: 30, II). From Tertullian, Blumenberg cites one of the most curious—and artfully eloquent—value judgments against téchne: ‘had God desired for men to have colorful clothes, he would have created crimson or steel (else sky) blue sheep’ (paraphrased from Blumenberg “Nachahmung [2001]” 28; with 28n.). Cf. “Non placet Deo, quod non ipse produxit, nisi si non potuit purpureas et aerinas [or: ‘aerias’] oves nasci jubere. Si potuit, ergo jam noluit; quod Deus noluit, utique non licet fingi” (Tertullian “de Cultu” 1312, I.viii; plus 1311n.–1312n.; said glosses plausibly point to Ovid “Art of Love” 130–131, III.173 and v.181, with context; cf. 130n.).

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passim); ‘‘Mimesis of Nature’. On the Prehistory of the Idea of Man as a Creator’ (a talk of 1956, printed in 1957; “Nachahmung [2001]” passim; plus 461n.).25 The latter features a programmatic formulation by Nicolaus Cusanus, which Blumenberg will cite and refunctionalize throughout his œuvre.26 This sententia may well be said to take on a life of its own: “sola humana arte” (“Nachahmung [2001]” 13)—‘solely by way and virtue of human téchne’, ‘by man’s craft alone’.27

|| 25 Both were initially published in Studium Generale (for the former: “Verhältnis [1951]” passim). The later article is also available in an accessible ed. (Wirklichkeiten 55–103; and 173n.), followed therein by his seminal essay on rhetoric (Wirklichkeiten 104–136). See also a 1959 talk (first published in 1963), entitled “Lebenswelt und Technisierung unter Aspekten der Phänomenologie” (“Lebenswelt [2012]” passim; plus 173n.; also in: zur Technik 163–202). 26 He does not omit the issue linked to said practice: “durch ihre rhetorische Formulierung […] zu praktikablen Zitaten disponierte[…] Stellen werden zu Sentenzen skelettiert” (Legitimität 377). The dictum in question is cited with some frequency; the ensuing inventory disclaims comprehensiveness. Nicholas of Cusa: “sola humana arte” (“de mente” 492, II). In Cassirer’s trans. “allein vermöge der menschlichen Kunst” (“Der Laie” 272). Blumenberg: “allein durch menschliche Technik” (“Einleitung” 58, 58n.); “allein kraft der menschlichen Kunstfertigkeit” (Geistesgeschichte 66; with 16, 67; “Umsturz” 644; “Kosmos” 71; Pseudoplatonismen 29; Legitimität 621; “Nachahmung [2001]” 13; Wirklichkeiten 59; plus Mayfield Artful 181n.). De re, cf. “Wir verstehen nur, was wir gemacht haben, und wir verstehen anderes, was wir nicht gemacht haben, eben nur auf dem Umweg über das, was wir gemacht haben” (Lesbarkeit 175); “daß jedes Können sich seiner selbst mit letzter Gewißheit nur sicher wird, indem es tut, was es kann. Sogar der Mensch wird jederzeit alles machen, was er kann, weil es gar keinen anderen Weg gibt zu wissen, ob man es kann” (“Grenzfälle” 72). “Was bleibt dem Menschen? Nicht die ‘Klarheit’ des Gegebenen, sondern die des von ihm selbst Erzeugten: die Welt seiner Bilder und Gebilde, seiner Konjekturen und Projektionen” (Paradigmen [1998] 8; cf. Lebenszeit 31); “daß der Mensch und nur der Mensch sie [sc. ‘eine (…) Gegenstandswelt’] hervorgebracht haben kann” (“Sokrates [1964]” 298; “Sokrates [2001]” 86). This Latin formula will be pertinent, as well: “Der Mensch ist definierbar dadurch, daß er etwas tut, bloß um zu erfahren, ob er es kann”—“de[r] frühneuzeitliche[…] Satz[…] von der Vertauschbarkeit des Wahren und des Getanen (verum et factum convertuntur)” (Beschreibung 882; plus 888–889; and the n. in subch. 11.1.3, herein); “der Mensch […] bildet sich die Welt, bevor sie ihn zu bilden vermag” (Höhlen. 277, with 278; 708)—the context being Montaignian. See the latter’s decided refunctionalization of Cicero (whose quasi Aristotelianizing context—art perfecting nature—is not retained): “what I call ours is a product of art” (Essays 438, II.12); “quod nostrum dico, artis est” (Essais II. 365, II.xii; cf. 751n.; and Cicero De Fin. 460–463, V.xxi.59–60). On the Cusanian passage in Blumenberg, see Goldstein (40); Müller (“Fußnote” 59). 27 Nor should the covibrating structural affinity—with simultaneous opposition in terms of bent and content—to the discourse historically highly virulent triad ‘sola fide’, ‘sola scriptura’, ‘sola gratia’ fail to be appreciated. On said tricolon, see e.g. Oberman (204; 234; 236; also 173, 235, 239, 255–256). By contrast, Blumenberg’s general tendency will probably be rather close to Scaliger’s “ſola prudentia” (82, III.i); especially considering the philosopher’s penchant for Gracián (see Lesbarkeit 108–120, spec. 117–119; Höhlen. 450–464; plus Gracián’s significative,

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With some plausibility—aided by the sheer quantity of ‘recitals’, notably by qualitative reworkings—that hypoleptic motto may be deemed a Blumenbergian leitmotif: a condensation of his thought, a distilled statement of purpose. For it epitomizes indirect or express ground swells, general accents; intellectual and intertextual commitments; structural and fundamental choices; as well as basic procedures of his œuvre: this world, humankind, and art (téchne) sensu lato. Each of the parts in this interrelated tricolon is intricately (if latently) linked to contingency. For the philosopher, it is matter as is susceptible of elseness; in the altered discursive setting of the ‘Modern Age’, it may also be not at all.28 On the whole—or, as per a different view, to a significant extent—men are material, hence equally subject to chance, otherwiseness. Being ‘homines fabri’, they might remake extant things ad libitum; or attempt to craft them almost or virtually from the ground up: hence even fortune may well be (re)shaped— manufactured or downright fabricated.29 Sola humana arte: along the lines of this dictum—including its conditio sine qua non, contingency—this study aims at tentatively and provisionally putting Blumenberg’s extensive œuvre into perspective; specifically a rhetorical one.30

|| value-added title: Oráculo 16; 89; 99; with Schopenhauer “Hand-Orakel” passim; here: 131). Cf. the trans. of ‘téchne’ (resp. ‘ars’) qua “Fertigkeit” (Blumenberg “Verhältnis [2001]” 255). 28 See chs. 3 to 4, herein; and spec. 3.5, concerning Aristotle’s view of hýle: “the cause of the accidental is the matter, which admits of variation from the usual” (Met. 1–9. 302–303, 1027a, VI.ii.11). On the fundamental change effected by a discourse that posits a creatio ex nihilo (with Schaeffer Art of the Modern Age 94–95), see subchs. 3.2 and 4.4, herein. 29 Cf. what is given as a sententia by “Appius Claudius Caecus”: “fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae”; “every man is the architect of his own fortune” (in: Ps.-Sallust 444–445, I.2; plus 444n.). This famed and effectual dictum is cited to eloquently refute a common or previous assumption, wherewith the overall speech opens (just before): that ‘fortuna’ gives “capriciously [‘per libidinem data’]” the “gifts […] coveted among mortal men [‘per mortaleis avide cupiuntur’]” (444–445, I.1; ‘archaic spelling’ in the source, 444n.). For variants, see Plautus: “sapiens […] ipsus fingit fortunam sibi” (“Trinummus” 132, II.ii.363). Livy—with respect to Cato the Censor’s independence from circumstances: “fortunam sibi ipse facturus fuisse videretur” (Ab Urbe Con. XXXVIII–XXXIX. 348, XXXIX.xl.4). Citing the latter, Bacon restates the Appian version (given to “the poet”): “Faber quisque fortunæ suæ” (“Essayes” 105, §40, ‘Of Fortune’). As to ‘fabricating one’s fortune’, see Strauss (Thoughts 219–220; 252); Mayfield (Artful 92; 103n.; 107; 120; 124–125; 140; 145n.; 146; 155–156; 165n.; 173; 184; 196n.); and the onset of ch. 7. With respect to Valéry, see Blumenberg: “Die Finalität des homo faber durchkreuzt rücksichtslos die Finalität der Natur” (“Sokrates [1964]” 308; “Sokrates [2001]” 96; plus context). 30 Of necessity, this endeavor can only approximate an (ever partial) synopsis. Yet something akin to what Blumenberg most memorably formulates as ‘tendencies (up)on approach(ing)’ (“Tendenzen bei Annäherung”, Lesbarkeit 162) may seem attainable, for all practical purposes.

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11.1.1 Worldliness: ‘Quod supra nos, nil ad nos’ Die W e l t , d i e W e l t , ihr Esel! ist das Problem der Philosophie, die Welt und sonst nichts! —Schopenhauer (“Spicilegia” 302, §151, [396]; with 302n.)31 more earthbound relations[.] —Alford (Poetic Attention 12)

In a temporal realm, almost everything may well be else, or not at all. Even eternity—that still frame or screenshot of time—comes to be conceivable, ex negativo (only).32 Seeing as any supposed future is quasi evidently susceptible of otherwiseness—considering the frequency of defeated expectations—the very virulence of the respective take and perception might have a tendency to absorb any (apparently) given present, past. In this world, contingency is inescapable. Following Blumenberg’s characteristic modus operandi, the first component of the aforesaid tricolon—that is, Diesseitigkeit—may be approached by way of indirection. Needless to say, this initial focus will—all but naturally—also offer diverse interrelations with the other two constituents: human beings, téchne.33 The ensuing extract is placed in the philosopher’s opus magnum, at the onset of its third part (concerning ‘the process of theoretical curiosity’): Socrates may have been in the right [or: justified], when[—]as per Cicero’s testimony [literally: word][—]he was the first to bring down philosophy from the heavens, [re]settling it in the cities [sc. póleis], introducing [it] into the house[hold]s[,] and coercing it to inquire into life, the modes and norms of comportment. Yet one must also perceive what became of this Socratic turn, after it was no longer understood qua thematization of [hu]man[s], but as [a] theological preserve of majesty[,] and[—]truncated accordingly[—]placed as a motto into the mouth of Socrates: Quae supra nos, nihil ad nos. (Legitimität 276; trans. dsm; see 276n., 283, 354n.)34

|| 31 “The w o r l d , t h e w o r l d , you asses [sc. donkeys]! is the problem of philosophy, the world and nothing else!” (trans. dsm). Favorably, Blumenberg cites Schopenhauer’s line in his essai on the (im)possibility of understanding oneself (at Verführbarkeit 136); cf. subch. 10.3. 32 Positing eternity—proceeding deductively therefrom—Plato inversely made ‘human time the motion picture of everlasting permanence’ (see “Timaeus” 74–77, 37D; with Simplicius 75, §343.17–18; 206n.). Its reception may well have rendered him the prime mover of said image. 33 Generally, cf. the expedient essay by von Fritz (“Rückwendung” passim; spec. 222–226). 34 “Sokrates kann im Recht gewesen sein, als er nach dem Wort Ciceros die Philosophie als erster vom Himmel herunterholte, sie in den Städten ansiedelte, in die Häuser hineinführte und sie zwang, nach dem Leben, den Verhaltensweisen und Verhaltensnormen zu forschen. Aber man muß auch sehen, was aus dieser sokratischen Wendung geworden ist, nachdem sie nicht mehr als Thematisierung des Menschen, sondern als theologischer Majestätsvorbehalt

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This case is downright paradigmatic for the recurrent nexus of ventriloquism and refunctionalization (Umbesetzung)—not least in that Blumenberg’s specific context seems to insinuate the ‘making’ involved: “was aus dieser sokratischen Wendung ge”—macht—“worden ist” (Legitimität 276).35 For the Ciceronian reworking already differs (considerably) from Plato’s sermocinationes, which had initially crafted the literary representation of his teacher—in turn at variance with the ethopoiíai evoked by contemporaries: Aristophanes, say; notably Xenophon.36 Playing along (with other discursive inclinations, language regimes), a Patristic writer joins the allocutionary game.37 || verstanden und demgemäß verkürzt als Wahlspruch dem Sokrates in den Mund gelegt worden war: Quae supra nos, nihil ad nos”. See Cicero: “Socrates autem primus philosophiam devocavit e caelo et in urbibus collocavit et in domus etiam introduxit et coëgit de vita et moribus rebusque bonis et malis quaerere: cuius multiplex ratio disputandi rerumque varietas et ingenii magnitudo, Platonis memoria et litteris consecrata, plura genera effecit dissentientium philosophorum” (Tusc. Disp. 434, V.iv.10–11). Cf. “Socrates mihi videtur, id quod constat inter omnes, primus a rebus occultis […] avocavisse philosophiam et ad vitam communem adduxisse” (“Acad.” 424, I.iv.15; with Blumenberg “Augustins Anteil” 65n.). “Socrates devoted his attention to the moral virtues [‘περὶ τὰς ἠθικὰς ἀρετὰς πραγματευομένου’], and was the first to seek a general [‘καθόλου’] definition of these” (Aristotle “Met. 10–14” 194–195, 1078b, XIII.iv.3; spec. with 196–197, 1078b, XIII.iv.5). See von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 230); Bouwsma (389); Niehues-Pröbsting (Die antike Phil. 176); spec. “Platon betreibt die Rücknahme der sokratischen Wende” (“Platonverlesungen” 342). Blumenberg considered “Platonismus […] die Rehabilitierung der reinen Theorie nach deren Diskreditierung durch die sokratische Wendung der Philosophie zur Ethik” (“Mythos” 45). Cf. and contrast Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78–79; 81– 82). It may seem noteworthy that the philosopher’s above paraphrase abstains from making the dichotomy explicit (“bonis et malis”, cited in his Latin n.)—allowing it to fall into the praeteritio of its kathólou (“Verhaltensweisen und Verhaltensnormen”, Legitimität 276, 276n.). A later, closer rendering of the same passage does give it in the German also: “den Unterschied von Gut und Böse zu erforschen” (Legitimität 283). When repetition occurs with (decided) variation, insinuations cannot be excluded. See Strauss (Thoughts 43); Mayfield (Artful 91n.; 167n.; 181n.). 35 Cf. Blumenberg’s concept(ualization) of ‘Umbesetzung’ (Legitimität 52; 57–58; 60; 70–71; 74–75; 79; 87–88; 98–99; 119; 127; 257; 406; passim); spec. “Der Gedanke der ‘Umbesetzung’ erklärt nicht, woher das neu eingesetzte Element stammt, nur welche Weihen es empfängt” (Legitimität 60). “Die ‘Umbesetzungen’, aus denen Geschichte besteht, werden rhetorisch vollzogen” (“Annäher. [2001]” 420). “Durchsetzung und Bestätigung der Umbesetzung sind rhetorische Akte” (“Annäher. [2001]” 426). Cf. subchs. 4.4, 6.5, 7.1.1–2, and 11.2.2, herein. 36 For the context at hand, this most characteristic line will elucidate the variance: “I tread the air [‘ἀεροβατῶ’] and scrutinize the sun [‘καὶ περιφρονῶ τὸν ἥλιον’]” (Aristophanes 38–39, v.225; plus Plato “Apology” 74–75, 19B–C, §3; Marquard Apologie 60)—i.e. precisely the reverse of ‘quod supra nos, nil ad nos’. Conversely, Xenophon: “His [sc. Socrates’] own conversation was ever of human matters [‘περὶ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων’]” (16–17, I.1.16; see 14–15, I.1.12; “Students of human nature [‘οἱ τἀνθρώπεια μανθάνοντες’]”, 14–16, I.1.15). Cf. D. Laertius: “Xenophon […] declares that he [sc. ‘Socrates’] only discussed ethics [‘περὶ μόνων τῶν ἠθικῶν’]” (Lives I. 174–

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In a (later) gloss on the above, Blumenberg will quote the condensed and pregnant version from Lactantius in the more euphonious form “Quod supra nos, nihil ad nos”—a drift the Christian writer ‘simultaneously admonishes’, insofar as it might be taken to imply what a divine could surely never accept: “Nihil ad nos caelum” (cited at Legitimität 354n., with 354).38 More than a millennium later, Erasmus (referring to Lactantius) would again take up, refunctionalize, vary the dictum at issue—in keeping with his characteristic, Skeptico-rhetorical habitus of (always) arguing also on the other || 175, II.45). Said loci are indicated and discussed by Blumenberg, also as to the ‘inconsistencies’ of those Socratic representations—seen to originate in “Stilisierungen einer für die Nachwelt gültig zu machenden Altersgestalt” (Legitimität 283; plus 282–285, incl. n.). Contrast Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78–79). In general, cf. D. Laertius: “he [sc. ‘Socrates’] was the first who discoursed on the conduct of life [‘περὶ βίου διελέχθη’]” (Lives I. 150–151, II.20); “he discussed moral questions [‘τὰ ἠθικὰ φιλοσοφεῖν’] in the workshops and the market-place, being convinced that the study of nature is no concern of ours [‘τὴν φυσικὴν θεωρίαν μηδὲν εἶναι πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]” (Lives I. 150–151, II.21). On variant ethopoiíai of Socrates from a rhetorical angle, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 176–178, with n.). Cf. von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 230–231). 37 Nor can it be excluded that Blumenberg—via a potential polysemy—puns on Cicero’s above vector when polemicizing against Phenomenology’s apostate: “Heruntergekommenheit der Philosophie” (Phänomen. 344); among the pleasanter trans. might be ‘deterioration’ (to say naught of other possibilities). As Bouwsma shows in a concise synopsis of refunctionalizations, the Ciceronian dictum could also be (mis)construed as follows: “Socrates brought philosophy down from heaven, but this meant that he had obtained it in heaven” (390; plus 389). With Blumenberg, a plausible reply might read: “Die Verwechslung von Rhetorik und Metaphysik gehört zu den Lastern unserer Tradition ebenso wie ihrer Interpreten” (Präfiguration 25). 38 Approx. ‘what (is) above us, (is) nothing to us’; ‘Heaven (is) nothing to us’. See Lactantius (416, III.xx, 415n.–416n.); with Blumenberg: “Aber zugleich wird er [sc. Socrates] wegen des ihm zugeschriebenen Ausspruches getadelt, daß das, was über uns ist, uns nichts angehe, weil er dadurch die wesentlich menschliche Richtung des Blickes zum gestirnten Himmel habe ablenken wollen” (Legitimität 354; cf. “Augustins Anteil” 65). The spec. reference of the ‘quae’ or ‘quod’ being (symptomatically) inexplicit in said cases—along with the possibility of taking the preposition ‘supra’ figuratively, hierarchically, or epistemically (rather than spatially)—see also Seneca’s privileging of (rhetorical) probability, while disclaiming the ‘absolutism’ of ‘the Truth’: “Fer ergo […] sententiam et pronuntia, quis tibi videatur verissimum dicere, non quis verissimum dicat. Id enim tam supra nos est quam ipsa veritas”. “Hand down your opinion, then, […] [and] state who seems to you to say what is truest, and not who says what is absolutely true. For to do that is as far beyond our ken as truth itself” (Ep. 1–65. 450–451, LXV.10). Subtly, the “videatur” may signal Cicero’s Skepticism (generally, see Quintilian Inst. Orat. 9–10. 200, 9.4.73; 330, 10.2.18; Tacitus “Dialogus” 292, §23.1; Montaigne Essais II. 130, II.x). Seneca’s drift may be aligned with the context in Minucius Felix, where the Socratic line is given to the representative of Paganism—“Eius viri, quotiens de caelestibus rogabatur, nota responsio est: ‘quod supra nos, nihil ad nos’” (346, XIII.1; cf. 284; 284n.). Rendall glosses: “The contention of Socrates was that such speculations had no bearing upon morals” (346n.).

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side(s) to a(ny) question: “Vertere licebit et in contrarium: Quae infra nos, nihil ad nos” (“Adagia” 416, I.6.69, with 414–417; Blumenberg Legitimität 276n.).39 In all probability, the polysemy of this remark—‘what is above (or beneath) is naught to us’—will be manifest; hence likewise its susceptibility to potential refunctionalizations, content-related expansions or reductions.40 Moreover, its recycling on the part of diverse—including diametrically opposed—discourses seems all but inevitable, considering the dictum’s sophisticated formal finish: parallelistic, euphonic, quasi iambic and dimetric, trenchant, terse, pregnant.41 With a view to facing a flood of philosophical speculations and foregoing definitions, a variant of said sententia—clipped of its first part—reappears in one || 39 Approx. ‘it will also be allowed to turn (it) into the contrary: what (is) below us, (is) nothing to us’—spatially, figuratively. As would be expected in Erasmus, spec. ironically: “significamus res leviusculas, quam ut nobis curae esse debeant” (“Adagia” 416, I.6.69). See the entry in his proverbial collection of proverbs: “Τὰ ὑπὲρ ἡμᾶς, οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς, i.e. Quae supra nos, nihil ad nos”. “WAS ÜBER UNS IST, IST NICHTS FÜR UNS […], geht uns nichts an” (“Adagia” 414–415, I.6.69). Blumenberg focuses on the reading, as per which the saying is to depotentiate inquisitiveness: “Dictum Socraticum deterrens a curiosa investigatione rerum coelestium et arcanorum naturae” (in: Legitimität 276n.; cf. “Adagia” 414–415, I.6.69). Erasmus accentuates polyfunctionality (preceding, semantically paralleling, said “vertere”): “Torqueri potest et in illos” (“Adagia” 416, I.6.69). It is no coincidence that Luther—in his obdurate attack on the Renaissance Skeptic (see “Spiritus sanctus non est Scepticus”)—takes up the Socratic line precisely: “Quae supra nos, nihil ad nos” (“De servo arb.” 232, WA605, StA183; nor will it be surprising that the gloss refers to Minucius Felix only, 232n.). The extent to which theology seems to feel threatened by said dictum is downright patent in Stoellger, who—attributing it to Augustine (sans locus) and Luther only—uses, and simply (sc. assertively) negates, the statement (see 176–177, 177n.); while apparently ignoring Blumenberg’s reading precisely thereof. In passing, it might be noted that Augustine offers a fourfold, quasi spatial schema for the “diligenda”: “quod supra nos […] quod nos sumus […] quod juxta nos […] quod infra nos” (“De Doc. Chris.” 27, I.xxiii.22; cf. 29, I.xxvi.27)—adding that “no precepts need to be given concerning the second and the fourth” (Christ. Doc. 20; with 22–23, 23n.). Gratuitous to say, not only is there no talk of ‘nil ad nos’; but the bent is precisely the reverse (expressly along the lines of Mt 22:37–39). 40 In a Montaignian context, Blumenberg logs as a peculiarity that Socrates, “der doch die Wendung von der Philosophie der Natur zu der des Menschen vollzogen hatte, […] gerade in dieser Wendung nicht zum Autor von Büchern geworden war” (Lesbarkeit 66). Regarding the slogan’s prevalence, one might consider Alciato’s emblem with the resp. inscriptio (‘quae supra nos nihil ad nos’), which—not incidentally—brings Prometheus into play, as well (depicted, discussed, in: Moseley 48, #4; plus 43–44). Drawing attention to the refunctionalization, the latter elaborates on the pictorial implications: “‘What is above us is nothing to do with us’. (It is tempting to see this as an ironic comment on the search for virtue and wisdom to which the book itself [sc. Alciato’s 1531 Emblematum Liber] is devoted” (43, with 39). His particular statement seems of general import: “The verse looks straightforward but is not” (44). 41 In the—polyfunctionally pertinent—essay “Die sokratische Abwendung vom Himmel – Fortgesetzt”, Blumenberg observes Mach’s uptake, for instance (Vollzählig. 374–377; here: 374).

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of Blumenberg’s widely acclaimed monographs.42 As per tradition, Epicurus had instrumentalized it to counter—or flatly dismiss—this animal’s fear of death, thereby to effect ataraxía (see “Lebensweltberuhigung”, Lebenszeit 68).43 Mindful of man’s contingencies, the later philosopher expands the context of the dictum’s applications; albeit in line with the Greek thinker’s general bent: At some time[,] one needed transportable sentences, which let the [respective] story seem superfluous[;] and then one needed the questions, to which these sentences could have been given as answers. […] the short circuit between question and answer caused a new and more potent circuity, precisely that of putting all answers given to the same question into competition with each other, playing [them] off against one another, so as to move toward the distant objective of [reaching] the exclusivity of a single valid answer. Epicurus saw the calamity coming or already come[,] and crafted the pattern of that competition of answers and questions, which yields the result that none of the answers ever given take precedence in regard to human being[s—]so that all [answers] are equally of no concern to [them]: Nihil ad nos. (Lebenszeit 68; trans. dsm)44

|| 42 Marquard gives it as his “Lieblingsbuch von Hans Blumenberg” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII). On its basis, Weinrich seems to have written his own (passim). Cf. subch. 10.3.3; generally 5.2. 43 “Epikur hatte […] zum Ratschlag einzuübender Lebensform gemacht, der Tod sei für nichts zu halten, denn wir seien nicht mehr da, wenn er da sei, und umgekehrt” (Verführbarkeit 67; cf. Beschreibung 790; Legitimität 184; Geistesgeschichte 121–122). See Marquard on “‘ἀταραξία’” as “glückseinschlägige[r] Privativ- und Gegenbegriff zu den ‘ταραχαί’” (Glück 13). Epicurus holds: “death is nothing to us [‘μηδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς εἶναι τὸν θάνατον’] […]. Death […] is nothing to us [‘ὁ θάνατος οὐθὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς’], seeing that, when we are, death is not come, and, when death is come, we are not” (in: D. Laertius Lives II. 650–651, X.124–125). “Death is nothing to us [‘Ὁ θάνατος οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]; for the body, when it has been resolved into its elements, has no feeling, and that which has no feeling is nothing to us [‘οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]” (Lives II. 664–665, X.139, §2). Hence the plausibility of isolating the formula “οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς”—taken up by later Stoics even: “Are not these things indifferent [‘ἀδιάφορα’]—indeed, nothing—to us [‘καὶ οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς’]? And is not death no evil [‘καὶ ὁ θάνατος οὐ κακόν’]?” (Epictetus Disc. I–II. 66–67, I.9.13). Cf. subch. 10.2.3. For Latin variants, Lucretius: “Nil igitur mors est ad nos neque pertinet hilum” (252, 3.830); “nil tamen est ad nos […] nec […] pertineat quicquam tamen ad nos […] et nunc nil ad nos de nobis attinet” (254, 3.845, 3.847, 3.850, 3.852; with 253n., 255n.; M. F. Smith xxxvi). Cf. Cicero: “‘mortem nihil ad nos pertinere; quod enim dissolutum sit, id esse sine sensu; quod autem sine sensu sit, id nihil ad nos pertinere omnino’” (De Fin. 192, II.xxxi.100). Seneca: “Post mortem nihil est, ipsaque mors nihil” (“Troades” 208, II.397; plus Rochester 150, v.1; 150n.). Likewise Quintilian (sans express attribution): “‘mors nihil ad nos, nam quod est dissolutum sensu caret, quot autem sensu caret nihil ad nos’” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 506, 5.14.12; with 506n.). See Tertullian: “Epicurus vulgari satis opinione negarit mortem ad nos pertinere” (“De Anima” 765, II.i.xlii, §721; also re Seneca). Cf. Long/Sedley (174–179, spec. 174–176, 24A, 24E). 44 “Irgendwann brauchte man transportable Sätze, die die Geschichte überflüssig erscheinen ließen, und dann brauchte man zu diesen Sätzen die Fragen, auf die sie als Antworten gegeben sein konnten. […] der Kurzschluß zwischen Frage und Antwort [‘löste’] eine neue und

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Foreshortened of its negated localization—be it supra, infra, or else (let alone prope, coram)—the saw’s reductive bent and content appear (all but) totalized. That Socratic (re)turn to human matters seems concentrated or narrowed into a consummate retreat, epitomized by the Epicurean ‘képos’.45 In such a thisworldly ‘constellation’, any external contingencies—natural or manmade (like perturbing stories)—could appear depotentiated to a (bare) minimum. Tentatively, this brief (and necessarily selective) passage through certain facets of a sentence’s discursive history might illustrate Blumenberg’s modus operandi from another angle—here, a decided (this-)worldliness. His writing may be seen to move in that field of reference, exploring the limits, sounding the depths, of said statement: ‘what is above or below need not concern us’. This could be of ‘momentaneous evidence’ with regard to those of his works as trace the tradition of frequently refunctionalized yarns, images (sensu lato): naval wreckages (observed), stumbling (or fallen) philosophers, (figurative) icebergs, the traversal of rivers (with or sans souci), et caetera. As to the ‘infra’, Blumenberg’s decades of interacting with Goethe might be recalled—notably the latter’s “partisanship in the dispute between Neptunism and Vulcanism” (Arbeit 476; trans. dsm; see 476–487). To the former, he adds “earthquakes, chasms, underminings, shipwrecks” (Arbeit 483; trans. dsm).46 || gewaltigere Umständlichkeit aus[…], nämlich die, alle gegebenen Antworten auf dieselbe Frage miteinander in Konkurrenz zu setzen, gegeneinander auszuspielen, um dem fernen Ziel der Ausschließlichkeit einer einzigen gültigen Antwort näher zu kommen. Epikur hat das Unheil kommen oder schon gekommen gesehen und das Muster derjenigen Konkurrenz von Antworten auf Fragen geschaffen, das als Resultat herauskommen läßt, keine der je gegebenen Antworten habe einen Vorrang in bezug auf den Menschen, so daß alle gleichermaßen ihn nichts angingen: Nihil ad nos”. Blumenberg’s context refers to fables—their pro-, epimythia (at Lebenszeit 67–68; with Sorge 7). The drift of his thesis is not tied to this (or any) spec. genre. As to the (rhetorical) process one might term ‘sententification’, cf. ch. 5 (mainly 5.1.1, 5.2), herein. For Voltaire on Epicurus, see Blumenberg (Schiffbruch 34–35; plus “Teufel” N3). Above all: “il faut cultiver notre jardin” (Voltaire “Candide” 237, §30; repeated, and the novel’s noted last words). Blumenberg refers thereto as “eine Pointe von grimmiger Ironie” (Legitimität 184; but cf. also Die nackte Wahrheit 153). See Añón (253); Harth (81–82); subchs. 10.2.2, 10.4, herein. 45 Cf. “tröstliche Idylle des Gartens” (Lebenszeit 68); “innerweltliche Sezession in die Idylle des Kepos” (Legitimität 184). “Epikur hat […] das Bild einer paradiesischen Lässigkeit hinterlassen: seine Schule ein Garten, er der Herr der Gartenlüste, wie einst der andere am biblischen Zeitbeginn. […] Epikur […] hatte zu demonstrieren, daß alles, wovon an der Welt im Ernst etwas abzuhandeln war, uns nichts anginge. Für den Menschen käme alles immer auf dasselbe hinaus: Nihil ad nos!” (Verführbarkeit 149). “Der Garten ist Schulort und Gleichnis; aber er ist nicht das Paradies, […] nur dessen philosophische Substitution” (Vollzählig. 268). 46 “Parteinahme im Streit zwischen Neptunismus und Vulkanismus”; “Erdbeben, Abgründe, Unterminierungen, Schiffbrüche”. On the latter, Trüstedt (“Schiffbruch” 102, 107–109; passim).

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In this way, his corresponding works could also be allocated to the area concerned with what is (or might be) ‘underneath’. Especially Schiffbruch mit Zuschauer will stand to reason (Schiffbruch passim). Likewise, a considerable share of Die Sorge geht über den Fluß (meaning, ‘Care crosses the creek’) may appear pertinent: among other things, the entire first section labeled ‘distresses at sea’ (Sorge 5–41; passim); plus the first essai of the second segment, with the significative subtitle ‘salvage by sinkings’ (Sorge 45–46); or the third part, with the downright paronomastic caption ‘Grundverschiedenheiten’ (Sorge 97–129).47 Besides, there is a posthumously published work on metaphors and leitmotifs, entitled ‘Sources, Streams, Icebergs’ (Quellen passim). Bearing in mind the profound and resounding topic of the last monograph Blumenberg saw to print during his lifetime, one might consider the—usually, not always, horizontal—relationship of ‘out- and inside’, precisely in connection with vertical heuristics along the lines of ‘infra’ and ‘supra’.48 By recourse to politic men of letters and seminal thinkers of well over two and a half millennia, ‘Exits from the Cave’ tracks down thoughts, words, images, actions dealing with troglodytes, spelunking, burrows, or affine antric matters (Höhlen. passim).49 Not unlike the movement implied by ‘supra’ (else ‘meta’), any noetic foray or groundbreaking advance into ‘the external’ ultimately recurs to base camp— or never actually leaves, always remaining within. The point of departure will be from what is closer at hand, hence more proximate to man (‘hemin’).50

|| 47 Idiomatically, ‘grundverschieden’ denotes ‘downright dissimilar, at variance’. Blumenberg’s (peculiar) plural noun stresses the literal and figurative senses of ‘Grund’; hence: ‘differences in ground, basis, cause (or the like)’. Herein, the (sub)titles are rendered as closely as possible (whence available English eds. may, or will, differ). As to Blumenberg’s title for the above collection of essays, Küpper logs that “going across the river” (resp. Jordan, Styx, Acheron) “also signifies dying, ending” (n. on the ms. of the ch. at hand; April 16, 2020; trans. dsm). 48 With respect to the Valéryan dictum cited below, Blumenberg tenders a similar structuring: “das Auge vom Typus […] [Blaise] Pascals wird durch die Vertikale im Bild fixiert, die dunkle Unergründlichkeit des Abgrundes bannt den Blick nur deshalb, um das Denken ganz für die Chance der entgegengesetzten Richtung, der Transzendenz, entschlossen zu machen; ein Auge, wie das Leonardos, nimmt spontan die Horizontale im Bilde wahr, die Chance, die beiden Ränder des Abgrundes zu verbinden und das Hindernis zu überbrücken oder in der Leere des Abgrundes den Spielraum für die Erprobung eines mechanischen Vogels zu erblicken” (“Lebenswelt [2012]” 7; zur Technik 163). 49 Pertinently, Stierle opens his applicative reading with the ensuing line: “Höhlenausgänge sind auch Höhleneingänge” (“Höhle” 197). 50 (Cf. Aristotle NE 12–13, 1095b, I.iv.5; with Trimpi Muses 91n.; 122; 232–233; “Reason” 108). See spec. the onset of ch. 4; as well as subch. 5.2.1, herein.

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Emphatically cited by Blumenberg, one of the most pregnant instances for a perspectival liaison of the ‘under’ and an ‘above’ will likely be the ensuing—not least, in that it decidedly accentuates the effectuality of human téchne: Paul Valéry put the confrontation between Leonardo and Pascal into the image [that][,] faced with an abyss[,] Leonardo would think of a bridge. (Vollzählig. 447; trans. dsm)51

By way and virtue of variation, Blumenberg also reapplies this image to another ‘underground’ (as it were).52 In a context concerned with Freud, he describes “dream[s] as the one identity’s and one history’s bridge of meaning across th[at] abyss[—]the loss of self during sleep” (Lesbarkeit 371; trans. dsm).53 A general reference to the ‘supra’ can be perceived in the traditional bent of Christian metaphysics: be it the ‘in caelis’ of the ‘Lord’s Prayer’ (Mt 6:9), or the liturgical ‘sursum corda’—the spatial vector tends to be vertical, aiming upward. Depending on the selection of sources and one’s hermeneutic inclination, the direction may well seem the reverse. In this respect, it will be significative that Blumenberg reads Bach predominantly with Nietzsche (Matthäuspassion passim; here: 68–70, 302–307); and consequently (re)accentuates Christ’s end and last words as per said Gospel (likewise in Mark, but not in Luke or John).54 || 51 “Die Konfrontation von Leonardo [da Vinci] und [Blaise] Pascal hat Paul Valéry in das Bild gefaßt, angesichts eines Abgrundes würde Leonardo an eine Brücke denken”. See Valéry: “Pas de révélations pour Léonard. Pas d’abîme ouvert à sa droite. Un abîme le ferait songer à un pont. Un abîme pourrait servir aux essais de quelque grand oiseau mécanique…” (“Note” 1210; with Leonardo 75; Blumenberg “Sokrates [1964]” 309n.; “Sokrates [2001]” 97n.–98n.). Opening an article of 1963 (given as a talk in 1959), the latter discusses the central part of said passage at some length (“Lebenswelt [2012]” 7–8; plus 173n.; also in: zur Technik 163–164; Lebenswelt 183–184; cf. Lebensthemen 148; withal: Die nackte Wahrheit 148–149). Generally, and de re, see his nexus of Nietzsche, Pascal (Schiffbruch 21; Lebensthemen 148). On Valéry, cf. subch. 13.4.1. 52 In affine respects, see Stierle’s most pertinent formulations: “Variationsfähigkeit”; “[u]nter den Variationen”; “Potentialität[en] ausspiel[en]” (“Höhle” 197). 53 “der Traum als Sinnbrücke der einen Identität und einen Geschichte über den Abgrund des Selbstverlustes im Schlaf hinweg”. 54 See Marquard: “Blumenberg [‘hört’] Bach […] als eine Art Nietzsche vor Nietzsche, indem er jene Worte zentralisiert, die in dieser Passionsgeschichte die letzten […] des Menschensohnes am Kreuz sind: ‘mein Gott, mein Gott, warum hast du mich verlassen’” (“Entlastung [1998]” XX). Blumenberg highlights: “Wenn es einen Schimmer an Wahrscheinlichkeit gibt, daß dieser Jesus von Nazareth mehr als ein Menschensohn unter Menschen war, liegt der einzige Hinweis darauf […] im letzten Wort, das der Gekreuzigte nach Matthäus zu sagen hatte und das der Evangelist der Überlieferung in der Ursprache für bedürftig hielt: das ēli, ēli . . .” (Matthäuspassion 208). See Zambon (Nachleuchten 245–250; spec. 247). As to Blumenberg’s proclivity for (notorious) last words—here condensed into the crafty formula of their “creative authenticity” (Matthäuspassion 209; trans. dsm)—cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 153, 153n.–154n.).

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In this line of the tradition, the human being on the cross—when, with the Psalmist, addressing the heavens bitterly in his “shocking cry of desperation” (Matthäuspassion 199; trans. dsm)—seems downcast, apparently absorbed by this world indeed.55 Acutely, the philosopher observes: For the paradox of this word on the Lord’s part[,] [and] in the original language[,] consists precisely in that someone calls upon God as [‘]his[’][,] and simultaneously as [‘]not his[’][,] accusing Him of dereliction. (Matthäuspassion 70; trans. dsm; plus 199–200; 219)56

|| 55 “der erschütternde Verzweiflungsruf”. “Et circa horam nonam clamavit Jesus voce magna, dicens: Eli, Eli, lamma sabacthani? hoc est: Deus meus, Deus meus, ut quid dereliquisti me?” (Mt 27:46; Vulgate; Mk 15:34 has “Eloi”). “And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Mt 27:46; KJV). Depending on the recipient’s proclivity, Christ’s dictum is either a quote or a sermocinatio (by the evangelist): “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1; KJV). “Deus, Deus meus, respice in me: quare me dereliquisti?” (Ps 21:2; Vulgate). One might consider that the variant at Lk 23:46 also tenders words from the Psalms (here 31:5; resp. Ps 30:6, Vulgate: “In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum”). See Blumenberg’s reading (Matthäuspassion 210; 215; 227); with Zambon (Nachleuchten 246, 246n.). By contrast to the severe—whether resigned or desperate—exclamations in Mt, Mk, as well as to the delegation in Lk, the word(s) John chooses for (or to hear from) his beloved master stress Christ’s (own) agency even at the last: “Τετέλεσται” (19:30; SBLGNT); “Consummatum est” (Vulgate). Cf. the philosopher’s various readings thereof (Matthäuspassion 226–227). Blumenberg subtly signals both the potential allocutio, and its hermeneutic leeway: “Wenn Jesu letztes Wort am Kreuz Eli, Eli, lama asabthani war, so ließ es sich hören als”—etc. (Matthäuspassion 70; plus the formulae: “zu sagen hatte”, 208; “gesprochen wissen wollte”, “läßt […] sprechen”, 210; “das Letzte sagen läßt”, 215; “läßt er ihn nun auch noch sagen”, 226; and 216, as to the aspect of probability). Cf. “Eli, Eli, lamah azavtani?” (Ps 22:1; OJB). Later, he asks (rhetorically): “Zitiert ein Sterbender den Psalmisten?” (Matthäuspassion 209; also with 210). “Hätte denn Jesus überhaupt daran denken können, das Verzweiflungswort des Psalmisten an Elias zu richten?” (Matthäuspassion 211; and 213). “Man braucht nicht tiefsinnige Fragen anzuschneiden, weshalb Jesus zitierte und nicht spontan seinen eigenen Verzweiflungstext exklamierte – er war durchtränkt mit Schriftkenntnis, oder zumindest seine Evangelisten waren es” (Goethe 88). 56 “Das Paradox dieses ursprachlichen Herrenwortes besteht doch darin, daß einer Gott als den seinen anruft und zugleich ihn als den Nicht-Seinen der Verlassenheit anklagt”. Blumenberg reiterates the issue later, noting “[d]aß Gott mit diesem Anruf fast wie ein Fremder genannt wird” (Matthäuspassion 200); again: “diesen Aufschrei der Verlassenheit [‘konnte’] nur einer tun […], für den sie nicht die daseinsgängige Ausgangslage war” (Matthäuspassion 208; plus an abysmal pun in what follows). “Mit Gottes eigenen Worten klagt er ihn der Untreue an […][.] [Man] wird auch einen Unterton mithören, durch den sich Jesus nicht nur und nicht zuerst an ‘seinen’ Gott wendet, sondern auch gegen diesen. Schon indem er dieses eine Mal auf das Abba der Sohnschaft verzichtet. Mit Gottesworten gegen Gott” (Goethe 88). The philosopher’s wary (while suggestive) ‘solution’ to said aenigma—“Wenn es zutrifft, daß er den absoluten Gehorsam leisten wollte, muß man es so sagen: Er hatte sich von seinem Gott verlassen lassen. Doch das ist schon Interpolation zwischen Gethsemane und dem leeren Grab.

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In a sense, this is a ‘regaining’ of the (all too) ‘human’ aspect involved: The Eli, Eli, lama asabthani, as Luther read it, has the truth of a scream, which could still be directed at the ‘dead God’. If not even[,] [and] all the more[,] precisely at this [god]. (Matthäuspassion 221; trans. dsm)57

Corresponding therewith, one may read the words concluding the respective subsection in Blumenberg attentive, proxying commentary on Bach’s masterful composition: “[The one] who [is] released for weeping does not doubt of this death. He does not need more, in order to be consoled as regards facing his own” (Matthäuspassion 236; trans. dsm).58 Along these lines, the (theologically indispensable) vicariousness of said expiration may well have another—perchance altogether this-worldly, humane (not to say, oratorical)—function, as well (if not a fortiori). As to ‘grounding’ the vertical vector in a down-to-earth way, Blumenberg’s general tendency seems condensed into the ensuing caveat: “The confounding of rhetoric and metaphysics belongs to the vices of our tradition [and of] its interpreters likewise” (Präfiguration 25; trans. dsm).59 Affinely, one might signal the hermeneutic ‘contingency’ of sententiae—here specifically in the sense of their (coincidental) encounters with one another, and in differing contexts. With respect to Blumenberg’s work, a brief excursus on the status of (such and similar) ‘supra’ epistemes—focused on, concerned with, the ‘above and beyond’—could seem needful, at this point. In a textual environment dealing with myths, the philosopher describes what one might infinitize as his corresponding modus operandi more generally:

|| Die Passion weiß davon nichts; sie stellt den Gottverlassenen vor, in seiner ganzen Entleerung von Zuversicht” (Matthäuspassion 209). This would seem to be reading Mt with the implication of the last words added in Jn (cf. Matthäuspassion 225). Blumenberg remarks: the latter’s “Überhöhung mit dem tetélestai […] hat am ehesten die Höhenlage des Schöpfungsnachworts […] kai idou kala lian” (Matthäuspassion 210; plus 225–227). Ultimately: “Niemand wird jemals wissen, was Jesus im letzten seiner Worte gerufen hat” (Matthäuspassion 215)—if anything (see Matthäuspassion 219–220). Cf. Zambon (Nachleuchten 247). 57 “Das Eli, Eli, lama asabthani, wie Luther es las, hat die Wahrheit eines Schreis, der noch an den ‘toten Gott’ gerichtet sein könnte. Wenn nicht sogar erst recht an diesen”. This is immediately followed by Blumenberg’s generally significative caption: ‘Humaner Rückgewinn’ (Matthäuspassion 221)—signaling a decided ‘recovery’ of what pertains to the ‘humane’ (resp. ‘humanity’). Cf. Zambon (Nachleuchten 248–249). Contrast Wetz (Blumenberg 63). 58 “Der zum Weinen Entlassene zweifelt an diesem Tode nicht. Mehr braucht er nicht, um angesichts des seinen getröstet zu sein”. “Realismus eines wirklichen Sterbens” (Goethe 88). 59 The German is cited in a n. above. For an application, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 130).

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The following considerations do not presume to answer the grand queries, to confirm or refute the grand theses[;] but they wish to be seen in relation to them. They inquire into the function[.] (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 13; trans. dsm).60

Downright pragmatic, such marks a concern with this world, mankind, its arts.61 Bearing out said focus, Marquard’s ensuing assessment of “the multiple philosopher” is both to the point, and in need of an (albeit decisive) nuance: I do not know any contemporary philosophy, which[—]while [having a] most accurate acquaintance with the history of the criticism of metaphysics[—]engages in metaphysics in such an unencumbered and fruitful manner as [does] […] Blumenberg’s philosophy. He never accepted bans on thinking [‘Denkverbote’]. (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII; trans. dsm)62

At the risk of producing an oxymoron (though only so for theologians or their ilk), one might see reason in observing that ‘the effectual truth of the matter’ may well be a ‘this-worldly metaphysics’ (as it were)—a functional, human, technico-rhetorical one.63 In said—craftful—respect, Blumenberg writes:

|| 60 “Die folgenden Überlegungen versteigen sich nicht zur Beantwortung der großen Fragen, zur Bestätigung oder Bestreitung der großen Thesen, aber sie wollen in Relation zu ihnen gesehen werden. Sie fragen nach der Funktion”. 61 See Blumenberg’s accent: “Die Geringschätzung des Pragmatischen zugunsten dessen, was höher als alle Vernunft sein soll, kommt in das Blickfeld einer Skepsis, die sich das ‘eigentlich Wirkliche’ nicht vorgeben läßt” (“Staatstheorie” 129; said article is of spec. pertinence, here). 62 Cf. “Blumenberg [‘ließ’] sich nicht durch die […] gängigen Metaphysikverbote schrecken. Er hielt an den großen Fragen der Philosophie fest: Gott, Welt und Mensch, Tod, Übel” (Marquard “Entlastung [1998]” XXII). While his preceding accent on Blumenberg’s “Funktionsdenken” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXI; see 11.2.2, herein) pertinently nuances the remark cited, the thetical claims by Wetz overshoot the mark, to say the least (cf. Blumenberg 58–67; spec. “endgültigen Bruch”, “unversöhnliche Abrechnung”, “als traurige Botschaft zu entlarven”, 60; on the latter: 64–65); similarly—but even more problematically—Timm (64; passim). Such or analogous construals fail to take into account that Blumenberg—a skilled rhetorician, veteran humanist— habitually argues in utramque partem, and particularly in these matters (cf. “Den ungläubigen Leser […] Anders der Gläubige […] für den Gläubigen”, Goethe 88). See this variety of queries, resp. view(point)s: “aber wer ist da eigentlich gestorben? Ein Gott, ein Mensch? Und wenn ein Gottmensch – was mag das bedeuten, wenn er doch nicht so unsterblich war, wie es sich für Götter geziemt?” (Gerade 125; Vor allem 147). 63 See Machiavelli: “[la] verità effettuale della cosa” (Principe 102, XV); with subchs. 4.3, 4.4, 8.3.2, 13.5. By contrast, the un- or otherworldly may hardly skirt vaunting a tendency to atrophy any nexus with factuality (to say naught of spiriting it away by design): “die Weltfremdheit jener Metaphysik, die sich in die Scheinwelt bloßer Begriffe verliert” (Marquard Glück 144). Cf. Blumenberg’s significative collocation “intensive[…] Diesseitigkeit” (“Über den Rand” 19).

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what would become of Paul Gerhardt’s hymns […] were one to subject them to being translated from [Early Modern] German into [present-day] German. It is the[ir] art, not the sacred content, which protects them from this [fate]. (Schiffbruch 87; trans. dsm)64

The metaphysical is conceivable: “Cogitat ergo est” (Beschreibung 313); and, not all that seldom, also rather ingeniously (not to say craftily) so. Further notice appearing uncertain, matters are likely to remain said way, for the time being. Regarding the ‘supra’, it is requisite to record Blumenberg’s numerous and spacious tomes or treatises considering astronomy (sensu lato)—especially in that this field is simultaneously a kind of arch-metaphysics, and taken to be the commencement of ‘science’ proper. Tracing the (conceptual) career of one among the most famous anecdotes in Western intellectual history, the work dealing with the Thaletic ‘siderealism’— consequential stumble, and collateral Thracian laughter—combines both of the vertical axes in a downright paradigmatic manner (see Lachen passim).65 The philosopher’s long engagement with Copernicus—and the revolution ascribed to him—issued into monumental publications (GKW I to III. passim). These include a posthumously published work applying the technique of ‘free variation’—and its conditio sine qua non, contingency—to the above or beyond. In so doing, a new concept is coined—even another discipline invented—and elucidated with a characteristically ‘Blumenbergian’ turn. Not as an alternative [term] for ‘astronautics’ is [it] called ‘astronoetics’: to think rather than travel there. ‘Astronoetics’ also captions consideration itself, whether it makes sense to travel there[—]and[,] if applicable[,] which [sense]. (Vollzählig. 320; trans. dsm)66

The manifoldly varied pointe of these essais (perchance also of Blumenberg’s modus more generally) seems to be that any ‘hypér’, ‘hypó’, ‘metá’, ‘supra’, ‘infra’ (and so forth) may amount to an indirection: diverting attention from a given to another matter (below, beyond, or else)—precisely thereby to bring the

|| 64 “was [‘würde’] aus den Chorälen von Paul Gerhardt […], wollte man sie der Übersetzung vom Deutschen ins Deutsche ausliefern. Es ist die Kunst, nicht der sakrale Gehalt, was sie davor schützt”. 65 An initial version was presented at the meeting—and published in the proceedings—of the research group ‘Poetics and Hermeneutics’ (see “Sturz” passim). 66 “‘Astronoetik’ soll nicht als Alternative zur ‘Astronautik’ so heißen: zu denken statt hinzufahren. ‘Astronoetik’ tituliert auch das Bedenken selbst, ob[—]und gegebenenfalls welchen[—]Sinn es hätte hinzufahren”.

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former into focus; see it otherwise; or first of all perceive what is actually at hand. Contingency is the most basic enabler and facilitator of this process.67 In the ensuing polemics, Blumenberg formulates said circuitousness—as well as its (virtually) versatile pun: Now[,] the simultaneity of lunar subjugation and environmentalist officialism [‘Umweltschutzbeamtung’] is not an arbitrary coincidence. An unexpected side effect of the sensation rendering all televisionists spectators of the world was the sight of the earth as a celestial body in the black sky of that other waste land [literally: world][;] and it is probably no exaggeration to say that the earth’s total presence for the terrestrials – which[,] until then[,] could precisely not have been had by way of any orbital flight – aroused a sense of the preciousness of this planet[,] appearing quasi animate. As if only now we knew what we have[: now,] since we know what it looks like on the moon – and no better elsewhere. (Vollzählig. 439–440; trans. dsm)68

He adds a pointed emphasis to said illustration, calling the “earth” that “‘blue planet’ rising in the sky of the lunar desert” (Vollzählig. 484; trans. dsm)—the condition of possibility being the contingency of the observer’s position.69

|| 67 Cf. Blumenberg’s accent on the “kopernikanische Konsequenz” qua “angelegt auf die Exklusion der Differenz von Oben und Unten” (Vollzählig. 507). If anything may as well be otherwise (or not at all), this might also affect the structural level—the basic frameworks (time, space), and noetic categories (causality)—habitually employed: at least conceivably, resp. ex negativo. Such is (affine to) the Kantian ‘turn’—as a matter of course: “Es ist hiemit eben so, als mit den ersten Gedanken des Kopernikus bewandt, der, nachdem es mit der Erklärung der Himmelsbewegungen nicht gut fort wollte, wenn er annahm, das ganze Sternheer drehe sich um den Zuschauer, versuchte, ob es nicht besser gelingen möchte, wenn er den Zuschauer sich drehen, und dagegen die Sterne in Ruhe ließ” (KrV 1. 25, ‘Vorrede’ of 1787, to the 2nd ed., B.XVI). See Marquard (Skeptische Methode 65–67, spec. 66n.–67n.; plus 64). 68 “Nun ist die Gleichzeitigkeit von Mondbezwingung und Umweltschutzbeamtung keine beliebige Koinzidenz. Was als Sensation alle Televisionäre zu Weltanschauern machte, hatte als unerwarteten Nebeneffekt den Anblick der Erde als Himmelskörper am schwarzen Himmel dieser anderen Ödwelt, und es ist wohl keine Übertreibung zu sagen, die Totalgegenwart der Erde für die Erdbewohner – die doch aus keinem Orbitalflug bis dahin zu haben gewesen war – habe ein Gefühl für die Kostbarkeit dieses wie lebendig erscheinenden Planeten geweckt. Als wüßten wir erst jetzt, was wir haben, seit wir wissen, wie es auf dem Mond aussieht – und anderswo nicht besser”. As not infrequently the case with Blumenberg, this text features quasi neologisms based on (a coalescence, combination, extension, modification of) extant words. It is often problematic to render effects pertaining to a synthetic language into a (predominantly) analytical one (such as English); and certainly impossible to convey every nuance. 69 “Die Erde […] der ‘blaue Planet’ […] der am Himmel der Mondwüste aufging”. Cf. “Der Blick aus dem Raum läßt die Erde […] in einem Meer von Negativität erscheinen: eine Insel im Nichts” (Sorge 136). See Marquard: “der immer größer und leerer werdende Himmelskosmos [‘entpuppte sich’] schließlich als eine Riesenwüste, die die Menschen abweist und zurückwirft

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After the above, the latter enables another perspectival turn. Adopting a Copernican structure and coalescing it with Husserl’s ‘free variation’, this marks Blumenberg’s processing of data generally; and is downright performative here. Only one [thing], which has also been said in recent times[,] is not applicable: the new gaze at the earth [is said to] have let it be seen as man’s final home [in the] world [‘Weltheimat’]. This is simply a retrojecting overinterpretation. On the contrary: the earth looked as if humankind, its works and its waste, its desertifications[,] were not there! No trace of man. (Vollzählig. 440; trans. dsm)70

From a safe (if not altogether good) distance, whatever may be present (spatiotemporally, also ‘emotionally’) might as well look otherwise (or inexistent). Without the American ‘small step’ (see Vollzählig. 483)—plus a manifestly grand view—Copernicus had (‘astronoetically’, as it were) redescribed ‘the earth as a star’; tying in therewith, Galilei declared “that the earth is not … a liquid manure of dirt and dregs of the universe [literally: world]”, but “a star among stars” (thus Blumenberg’s report at Vollzählig. 480; see 480n.).71 In keeping with such positional contingency, Lichtenberg’s conceivable reversal—of that external vision, scientific optimism—ought not to be omitted. Blumenberg’s précis: “A higher being may well hold the earth[—]overgrown with trees and herbage[—]to be mildewed” (Lesbarkeit 209; trans. dsm).72 Slight may be the distance of (anankastic) conservationism to cynicism outright. Then again, such inversions are enabled by that (decidedly) human ability to see things otherwise; or negate them (noetically, if not indeed).73 Via recurrent and characteristically varied formulae, Blumenberg’s very écriture signals his habitually proceeding from, and exploring, the contingency || auf jene einzige kosmische Oase, in der sie – unwahrscheinlicherweise – leben können: die Erde” (“Laudatio” 55; with “Entlastung [1991]” 25). Cf. Sommer: “eine winzige Insel von Sinn in einem weiten Meer der Kontingenz” (“Zufall” 100). 70 “Nur eines ist unzutreffend, was neuerdings auch gesagt worden ist: Der neue Blick auf die Erde habe sie als endliche Weltheimat des Menschen sehen lassen. Das ist einfach eine rückprojizierende Überdeutung. Im Gegenteil: Die Erde sah aus, als gäbe es den Menschen, seine Werke und seinen Unrat, seine Desertifikationen nicht! Keine Spur vom Menschen”. In English, the plural of said Latinate term may seem unidiomatic; the latter is deprioritized (here, throughout), in the interest of rendering Blumenberg’s text as closely as possible. 71 “daß die Erde nicht … eine Jauche aus Schmutz und Bodensatz der Welt sei […][,] [sondern] ein Stern unter Sternen”. See Galilei (“Sidereus” 105; with “Dialog”). 72 “Ein höheres Wesen würde die mit Bäumen und Kräutern bewachsene Erde vielleicht für verschimmelt halten”. 73 Cf. Blumenberg’s pointed reference to a “naturschützerische Gebärde” (Löwen 77). In said respect—incl. the nexus with contingency—see ch. 12, herein.

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of perspectives—as well as a quasi methodical ‘exploitation’ of this (Nominalist) consequence: “Or is it slightly else still?” (Vollzählig. 479; trans. dsm).74

|| 74 “Oder ist es doch noch etwas anders?”. Else: ‘or is it somewhat different indeed (sc. after all)’; ‘or is it not also rather otherwise’. Such, similar phrases permeate Blumenberg’s œuvre, distinguish his diction, ductus; while also marking a mode for processing, organizing data—an écriture in utramque partem vel in plures, articulating hexical perspectivity, vicariousness. Cf. subchs. 8.4, 11.3.4. A selective inventory may be of heuristic use. More (or less) ‘standard’ variants: “Anders gesagt” (Beschreibung 294; “Vorbemerkungen” 6; Höhlen. 61; Sachen 330; Vollzählig. 476; Phänomen. 17; 164; 318; 362; 389; 408). “Anders gesprochen” (Beschreibung 799). “Anders ausgedrückt” (Beschreibung 161; 181; 189; 243; 266; 439; 637; 654; “Universalbibliothek” 27; “Annäher. [2000]” 71; Arbeit 537; Lebenswelt 140; spec. Löwen 77; Quellen 211; Phänomen. 13; 17; 63; 126; 155; 162; 200; 286; 381; 446; 464; 466; Realität 131; 211). “Oder, anders gesagt” (“Kausalität” 204). “Anders angesetzt” (“Kant” 561); “anders bezeichnet” (Phänomen. 187). “Anders gefragt” (Arbeit 424). “Anders gestellt, lautet die Frage” (“Kopernikus [1973]” 460). “Oder anders” (Beschreibung 639; Phänomen. 128; 391); “etwas anders” (Phänomen. 288). “Andersherum” (Sorge 137; cf. Quellen 186). “Mit anderen Worten” (“Umsturz” 639; “Ordnungsschwund” 49; Schiffbruch 82; GKW III. 633; Höhlen. 737; “Vieldeutigkeit” 116; Beschreibung 182; 509; 510; 773; Sachen 132; 210; Geistesgeschichte 123; Lebenswelt 153; Phänomen. 177; Realität 50; 89). “Mit einem Wort” (“Umsturz” 641). “Generalisiert” (Phänomen. 493). “Grob gesagt” (Phänomen. 20). “Um es nochmals kurz zu sagen” (Phänomen. 59). “Ich will es zunächst kurz sagen” (Beschreibung 245). “Kurz gesagt” (Die nackte Wahrheit 10). “In Kurzformel” (Beschreibung 646). “Kürzer gefaßt” (Phänomen. 195; 287). “Knapp gesagt” (Phänomen. 307). “Schlicht gesagt” (Phänomen. 198); “aufwendiger gesagt” (Phänomen. 101). “Konkreter ausgedrückt” (“Vorbereitung der Neuzeit” 93). “Äquivalent ausgedrückt” (Phänomen. 489); “oder besser” (Phänomen. 390); “oder schöner ausgedrückt” (Phänomen. 361). “Ich sage es noch eine Spur krasser” (Beschreibung 638). “Ich will es kraß ausdrücken” (Lebenswelt 153). “Drastischer gesagt” (Phänomen. 401). The formula may seem spec. marked when iterated with variation; if further adverb(ial)s (resp. particles) are inserted: “Anders ausgedrückt […]. Wieder anders ausgedrückt” (Beschreibung 160). “Anders gewendet” (“Marginalien” 127). “Nochmals anders gewendet” (Lebenszeit 284). “Ich will es einmal anders beschreiben” (Lebenswelt 85). “Um es anders zu sagen” (“Fernrohr” 60–61). “Um es anders auszudrücken” (“Sprachsituation [1966]” 151; “Sprachsituation [2001]” 128). “Man kann auch sagen” (Realität 212). “Vielleicht läßt es sich so sagen” (Verführbarkeit 198). “Vielleicht läßt es sich so ausdrücken” (Realität 14). “Das läßt sich auch so ausdrücken” (Lebenswelt 135). “Das läßt sich auch so formulieren” (Legitimität 233). “Man kann das so formulieren” (Phänomen. 374); “um es so zu formulieren” (Phänomen. 419); “oder, anders formuliert” (Realität 34). “Man kann es auch so ausdrücken” (GKW III. 632; cf. Phänomen. 420). “Man kann das auch so sagen” (GKW III. 787). “Man kann das auch so aussprechen” (Beschreibung 878). “Man könnte sagen” (Unbegrifflichkeit 35; “Umsturz” 642; Realität 32; 153); “kann man genauso gut sagen” (Unbegrifflichkeit 110); “fast möchte man sagen” (Realität 123). “Umgekehrt” (Unbegrifflichkeit 28). “Man kann das auch umkehren” (Phänomen. 210). “Diese Konfiguration kann nun auch in umgekehrter Richtung gelesen werden” (Sorge 59). “Man kann sogar andersherum argumentieren” (Phänomen. 379). “Man muß aber einmal versuchen, den Sachverhalt von der anderen Seite her zu sehen” (Phänomen. 176). “Das ist die eine Seite […].

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For the twentieth century, after that first ascent to the earth’s reliable satellite, a comparably telluric (re)turn can be observed via one of Blumenberg’s most this-worldly essais: “The Smell of the Moon” (“Der Geruch des Mondes”, Vollzählig. 478; trans. dsm). Otherwise considerably ‘discriminated against’ in a ‘largely deodorized world’, it rehabilitates said sense—to emphatically declare: “The earth does smell indeed, it smells everywhere, and each of its countries has its own smell” (Vollzählig. 479, with 478).75 By contrast, the moon’s scent is (as it were) a sublunar and technical, a decidedly ‘human creation’—at precisely the point when its dust was carried into the “artificiality of the atmosphere [in the] capsule” (Vollzählig. 479; trans. dsm).76 Iterated in several variants above, that Copernican or noetic turn epitomizes the circuitous procedure—here by recourse to the extreme values of ‘supra’ and ‘infra’—which indirectly reconfirms the focal point: a decided this-worldliness qua basso ostinato of Blumenberg’s philosophy. To this effect, the ensuing three samples might mutually illuminate each other: Only as a banality can it be expressed that our perception is not and never will be Copernican. Whatever we [may] know, the sun rises and sets above us, secretly [it is] even [thought to] rise and set for us. (Vollzählig. 311; trans. dsm)77

|| Die andere Seite ist” (Lesbarkeit 384); “betrachtet die andere Seite durch eine überraschende Wendung” (Sorge 25). “Anders, nämlich in der Sprache des Neurologen […] ausgedrückt” (Arbeit 11); “modern gesprochen” (Beschreibung 505; Beiträge 70). “Um das auf einen fachsprachlich prägnanten Satz zu bringen” (Beschreibung 871). “In einer anderen Sprache ausgedrückt” (“Teufel” N3). “Mit unseren Worten” (“Licht” 156); “platonisch gesprochen” (“Vorbemerkungen” 7). “Mit Kant gesprochen” (Realität 10). “Theoretisch ausgedrückt” (Realität 39). “Theoretisch gesprochen” (“Vorbemerkungen” 3). “Methodisch ausgedrückt” (Phänomen. 362). In all likelihood, the most curious instance will be this parrhesiastic variant (revealing the directedness generally obtaining): “Wenn man es anders gesagt haben will” (Die nackte Wahrheit 123). By contrast to much of the above, Blumenberg’s dissertation had featured a metalingual instance (unambiguously) stressing intent: “Das will sagen” (Beiträge 43). Withal, see Sommer: “Daß man dasselbe auch anders, […] in demselben auch etwas anderes sehen kann, muß einem eigens gesagt werden” (Suchen 38). Pertinently, Reichel highlights “Blumenbergs […] Mahnung ‘Es könnte auch anders sein!’ beim Lesen im Ohr zu haben” (217; with 216). On the discourse historical implications, see subch. 4.4, herein. 75 “die Welt […] weitgehend desodoriert”; “die Diskriminierung des Geruchssinnes”. “Die Erde riecht eben doch, sie riecht überall, und jedes ihrer Länder hat seinen Geruch”. On the notorious import of the olfactory (being flagrant ex negativo), see Mansfield’s most suggestive formula: “the never-ending war against the human smell” (“Rational control” 39). 76 “Neuschöpfung […] des Menschen”; “Künstlichkeit der Kapselatmosphäre”. 77 “Daß unsere Wahrnehmung nicht kopernikanisch ist und es nie werden wird, ist nur noch als Banalität auszusprechen. Was auch immer wir wissen, die Sonne geht über uns auf und unter, insgeheim sogar für uns auf und unter”. Cf. subch. 4.2, herein.

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Precisely the phenomenon of another entity’s quotidian processuality between ‘supra’ and ‘infra’ reaccentuates the observer’s stance, and projection of desires. What is a subtle twist in the tail above turns polemical in the following: For […] half a millennium[,] we have been spinning through [outer] space knowingly, mad [and] manically rotating on our little planet and around the sun and around the center of the milky way and … who knows around what else and whereto? Yet we precisely only know it[;] it has not reached our language and not changed our [way of] seeing, basically not touched our ‘history’. (Vollzählig. 533; trans. dsm)78

Whereas the above provisionally elides vertico-vectorial difference by whirling around a viewer’s footing—there being no ‘up’ or ‘down’, universally speaking— the passage below restores it for this world; and precisely in order to emphasize deceptive constancy, factual kinetics (along Heraclitean lines): Everything flows, still and even so. With its biotopes[,] humankind is floating on magma[;] and[,] yet again[,] it does not perceive any of its inching [sc. ultraslow] velocities. (Vollzählig. 535; trans. dsm)79

|| 78 “Nun schleudern wir […] seit einem halben Jahrtausend mitwissend durch den Raum, wahnwitzig rotierend auf unserem kleinen Planeten und um die Sonne und um das Milchstraßenzentrum und … wer weiß worum und wohin noch? Aber wir wissen es eben nur, es hat unsere Sprache nicht erreicht und unser Sehen nicht verändert, im Grunde unsere ‘Geschichte’ nicht berührt”. 79 “Alles fließt, noch immer und erst recht. Die Menschheit treibt mit ihren Lebensräumen auf dem Magma, und wieder merkt sie von den Zentimetergeschwindigkeiten nichts”. Cf. his construing a Heraclitean “absolute Metapher” (“man könne nicht zweimal in denselben Fluß steigen”, Quellen 103: this outperformance sports a ‘manifest blunder’; Sachen 12). The Platonic ‘Socrates’ reports: “Heracleitus says […] that all things move and nothing remains still [‘πάντα χωρεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει’], and he likens the universe to the current of a river [‘ποταμοῦ ῥοῇ ἀπεικάζων τὰ ὄντα’], saying that you cannot step twice into the same stream” (“Cratylus” 66– 67, 402A, §19; cf. “τὰ ὄντα ἰέναι τε πάντα καὶ μένει οὐδέν”, 401D, §18; Aristotle Met. 1–9. 188– 189, 1010a, IV.v.18; “Met. 10–14” 194–195, 1078b, XIII.iv.2). Plato’s wordplay—“χωρεῖ”, “ῥοῇ”— is taken up in “Ῥέαν”, “ῥευμάτων” (“Cratylus” 68, 402, §19); at the end, with tongue in cheek: “all things are flowing like leaky pots [‘πάντα ὥσπερ κεράμια ῥεῖ’]”, “just like people afflicted with catarrh, flowing and running all the time [‘ὑπὸ ῥεύματός (…) πάντα τὰ χρήματα’]” (“Cratylus” 190–191, 440C–D, §44; cf. Blumenberg Unbegrifflichkeit 74). The familiar ‘πάντα ῥεῖ’ will be a distillation of the Platonic phrase cited. Apelt logs: “Heraklits bekannter Satz ‘Alles fließt (πάντα ῥεῖ)’, wie er in der landläufigen Fassung lautet, findet sich in seinen Fragmenten nicht wörtlich, sondern nur dem Sinne nach” (“Kratylos” 141n.). Said scholar removes the humor by conjecturing (hence trans.) “χειμάρροα” in place of “κεράμια” (“Kratylos” 151n.; with 132); the context suggests otherwise. For the resp. (and affine) fragments, see Diels/Kranz (Vorsokratiker I. 154, 22B12; 161, 22B49a; plus 482–483, XLI; 494–495, LXXXI). Cf. Gadamer (14; 30; 42–44); Pater (118; with Beaumont “Notes” 177n.–178n.); subch. 3.7; the onset of 13.

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While this animal’s evident capacity for reckoning with contingency eo ipso facilitates its momentary appresentation of virtually any conceivability, there seems to be a limit to the latter’s effects on life, and in actuality (see chapter 12, herein). Anything might as well be otherwise, or not at all; but the respective potential may—and, in most cases, probably will—remain latent. In a context wherein the philosopher retraces Lichtenberg’s (and his) iterated “attempts at consistently thinking Copernicanism through to the end”, one might read this significative line—which elicits and condenses the former’s position, while also describing (the structure of) Blumenberg’s own écriture: “Thus twixt height and depth does man live” (Lesbarkeit 207; trans. dsm).80

11.1.2 Human Beings Das Menschliche liegt dazwischen[.] —Marquard (Glück 9)

In accordance therewith, an apophoric (re)turn to the ‘in-between’ will seem apposite. Like the Socratic, Blumenberg’s “philosophy” is “of human things” (Legitimität 284; trans. dsm)—and “possibilities” (Vollzählig. 374; trans. dsm).81

|| 80 “Versuche, den Kopernikanismus konsequent zu Ende zu denken”. “So zwischen Höhe und Tiefe lebt der Mensch”. Cf. “[What is] human lies in-between” (Marquard Glück 9; trans. dsm). 81 “Philosophie der menschlichen Dinge” (Legitimität 284; plus “Recht des Scheins” 422). “Möglichkeiten des Menschen” (Vollzählig. 374); an aim being “zur Sprache zu bringen, was menschlich ist und was sich im Menschlichen zeigt” (“Zukunft” 128). Cf. Balmer’s title (passim; 181; as to Nietzsche “Phil. im tragischen Zeitalter” 801). He logs: “Den Kristallisationspunkt des moralistischen Themenkreises bildet der Mensch” (11). To the extent of signaling the technical aspect by virtue of its recognizable suffix—as in the conventional, affine ‘poetics’, ‘linguistics’, ‘semantics’, ‘politics’, ‘Sophistics’, ‘rhetoric’, etc.—‘Moralistik’ (else an Englishing equivalent) must seem preferable to ‘littérature moraliste’ (or derivative terms). For the quasi inevitable— but misleading—tinge even of such (otherwise standard) concepts as ‘moral philosophy’ (not to mention ‘moralists’) could occasion ideological fallacies bypassing the descriptive approach endorsed. On this set of issues, see Friedrich—above all: “Moralistik, das ist etwas, was sehr wenig mit Moral, dagegen sehr viel mit den mores zu tun hat” (Montaigne [1993] 10; cf. 167– 172; contrast the symptomatically misguided trans. in an English ed., giving the initial terms as “Morality […] morals”: Montaigne [1991] 3; aptly altered to ‘the study of mores’, 175–181, here 175). Marquard stresses: “Moralistik […] interessiert […] am Menschen nicht das, was er sein soll, sondern das, was er ist” (Glück 145). Cf. Stierle (Moralisten 275–297; spec. “Moralartistik”, 295; with “Moralistik” passim; here 20); Küpper (“Jesuitismus” 418–419; “Jesuitismo” 22–23); Mayfield (Artful 92n.; 113n.; 163n.; 178n.; 228–230, and n.; 263; 318n.; passim).

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Endorsing a virtually Promethean mode (if not order), it deals—is concerned— with thought qua ‘brought back down to earth’.82 Relaying Xenophon’s take (hence anti-Platonically), Cicero describes the ethos on the part of that erstwhile Sophist bent arch-philosopher as a ‘downcall’ from ‘unearthly’ spheres (“philosophiam devocavit e caelo”, Tusc. Disp. 434– 435, V.iv.10–11)—a turn to ‘what is human’, in all its phenotypes.83 This is the focus of ‘anthropistic’ practitioners like Montaigne or Gracián—to whose texts and techniques Blumenberg has dependable recourse.84 Described as “the program of linking Skepticism and Moralistics”, his attention (by proxy)

|| 82 From a sound and sober distance, such would (nolens volens) comprise a concern with ‘philosophy’s deteriorations’ also (see “Heruntergekommenheit der Philosophie”, Phänomen. 344; and Verführbarkeit passim). Cf. Nietzsche (KSA 7. 739, 30[18]). Contrast Sommer (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78–79; 81–82); as is meet, he (tacitly) balances his previous assertion at the end: “Die Welt gibt uns nichts mehr zu verstehen. Wir sind ihr gleichgültig – aber sie nicht uns. Und sie war es uns nie” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 87). 83 See spec. von Fritz (“Rückwendung” 230). For the resp. loci, cf. the n. in subch. 11.1.1, herein. On ‘philosophistic’ affiliations, Blumenberg remarks: “Jedenfalls beherrscht auch der platonische Sokrates noch alle Register jener Technik dialektischer und rhetorischer Schliche, die von den Sophisten verkauft wurde” (Legitimität 285; with 284). 84 Cf. “Unter den Händen eines Skeptikers, der über den Menschen hinauszufragen sich verwehrt sieht, gerät ein überwiegend konventionelles Material in einen neuen Aggregatzustand, in welchem der einzige noch mögliche Gegenstand des Menschen erzwingt, daß alles nur noch Symptom dieses Gegenstandes ist” (“Annäher. [2001]” 410). The context logs said ‘Skeptic’ as Montaigne. Given the wording with indefinite article (“eines”), the cited line may well be read as a programmatic (self-)statement (and of purpose) on Blumenberg’s part—a rhetorical device exploited by “the Skeptical philosopher” (H. Ritter “Der Arbeiter” 33; trans. dsm). Cf. “Als Skeptiker zögere ich, dem Skeptiker [sc. Marquard, here] ohne Zögern zuzustimmen” (Löwen 31). See his reception of Montaigne, Gracián (e.g. at Schiffbruch 17–21; Lesbarkeit 65–67; 108–120; Höhlen. 277–284, spec. “das eigene Leben in Unzugänglichkeit zu führen”, “Rückzug […] die Grundrichtung der Daseinsbewegung”, 281; as well as 450–464; Lebensthemen 9–12; 15–18). On the diachronic affinity of the aforesaid skeptics, see also Zill (“Nachdenklichkeit” 221; with 237), noting Blumenberg’s staunch employment of Montaigne’s “Je n’enseigne point, je raconte” (Essais III. 37, III.ii; cf. “me sentant trop mal instruit pour instruire autrui”, Essais I. 316, I.xxvi; plus Friedrich Montaigne [1993] 25). As to Blumenberg’s skepticism, see Reichel’s expedient remarks: “Offenheit im Denken”; “Denkgewohnheiten und Gewissheiten unterlaufen” (214); “Denkhaltung des Anti-Systematikers und skeptischen Phänomenologen, der eine Sache nie nur aus einer Perspektive betrachtet” (214–215); “diese Subversivität”, “Blumenbergs Kritik an Systematikern” (215); “Perspektivenwechsel”, “eine Sache aus unterschiedlichen Blickwinkeln zu betrachten” (216); “einer immerwährenden skeptisch-distanzierten Überprüfung der Vorannahmen” (217). As to ‘anthropistics’ (formed on ‘ánthropos’, ‘pístis’), cf. Mayfield (“hypólepsis” 236; 238; 238n.; 250n.; 252–257, with n.; passim).

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is explicitly directed at the field in question: “Nothing need we know [for sure], but a little of man we must know, so as not to perish” (Lachen 74; trans. dsm).85 It is vital to stay down-to-earth, for the time being; utile to remain matter-offact habitually, reckon pragmatically, proceed prudently—and epimeletically cultivate the solace of a sound and sober mind (bei Trost zu bleiben).86 To be speaking of ‘ethics’ (let alone sensu stricto) would probably no longer seem descriptive in the present context (given contemporary acceptations).87 For “Moralistics [is] not morality: it describes humankind, but leaves [open and] undecided, whether it will change itself in front of its mirror” (Höhlen. 278; trans. dsm).88 Discursively, Blumenberg’s reference to said diachronic and panEuropean movement seems most pertinent.89 Conceptually and de re, there is a historically verifiable nexus of rhetoric and a moral philosophy understood in ‘technical’ terms.90 Once more, ‘one will look to what became—and was made— of that Socratic turn to human things’ (see Legitimität 276; cited above).91 || 85 “das Programm der Verbindung von Skepsis und Moralistik”. “Nichts brauchen wir zu wissen, aber ein wenig vom Menschen müssen wir kennen, um nicht zugrunde zu gehen”. Blumenberg is implying a difference between “wissen” and “kennen”. Tentatively, the former might be said to align with Latin ‘scire’, the latter with ‘noscere’; in English, perhaps: ‘have certain knowledge’ as opposed to ‘be aware of, or familiar (resp. acquainted) with’. The above rendering takes into consideration that Blumenberg is formulating sententiously, wherefore the present version adheres to his syntax (as far as possible). 86 See Marquard: “Denn es gibt das Recht der nächsten Dinge gegenüber den letzten” (“Finalisierung” 473). As to ‘Moralistics’ (being Blumenberg’s leaning), the pragmatic purpose is to stay “close enough to the vital needs” (“dem Lebensbedarf nahe genug”, Phänomen. 442; trans. dsm). Friedrich’s stress: “taktische Klugheit – […] eine Methode” (Montaigne [1993] 169). 87 Perchance, this caveat will hold good even for Blumenberg’s own attempt at salvaging the concept by affixing a qualification: “eine Paraethik, also eine Moralistik der pragmatischen Verfahren” (Beschreibung 501)—it being decisive that he retains the nexus of the former with the latter concept. To some extent, the resp. research has taken up the neologistic suggestion; Müller e.g. speaks of an “anthropologico-moralistic para[-]ethics” (“Von der Theorie” 259; trans. dsm; cf. 256; 258; 276; 280–282). He stresses: “Ganz dezidiert stellt Blumenberg seine anthropologischen Überlegungen in die skeptizistisch-moralistische Tradition von Montaigne” (“Von der Theorie” 280). With respect to the latter, see also the philosopher’s express re- and upvaluations (“Annäher. [2001]” 410)—as partly cited above. 88 “Moralistik [‘ist’] nicht Moral: Sie beschreibt den Menschen, läßt aber dahingestellt, ob er sich vor seinem Spiegel verändern wird”. 89 As (partial) proponents, one might consider e.g. Petrarca, Machiavelli, Montaigne, Bacon, Gracián, La Rochefoucauld, Pascal, the Earl of Rochester, Diderot, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Wilde—inter alia, and mutatis mutandis (as a matter of course). For an (extremely) condensed and synoptic treatment of Moralistik, see Balmer (passim; certain of the authors mentioned are dealt with, e.g. at 47–48; 50–51; 65–85; 87–100; 152–161; 162–181). 90 Contrast Sommer: “Es gibt keine praktische Philosophie” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 82). Needless to

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As concerns Moralistics, recourse to Aristotle’s pragmatic triad—the Politics, Nicomachean (plus Eudemian) Ethics, and Rhetoric (comprehending his Poetics, inseparable therefrom in Early Modern times)—is an accepted given; albeit one that is quasi spirited away by the time of (German) Idealism, at the latest.92 Even so, any heedlessness yields a potential for renewed attentiveness; and Blumenberg’s Aristotelico-Moralistic hypólepsis tenders a most evocative uptake and qualitative reappreciation of, as well as varied elaboration on, said nexus.93 Tentatively, the present endeavor aims to point in this general direction. For there is ultimately no way to avoid human matters. Among Blumenberg’s essais || say, ‘good’ Phenomenological ‘practice’ is habitually conceived of as a call to have—rather naturally—‘forgotten’ rhetoric (or to quarantine it as “rein immanente”, “Zu keiner Zeit” 84). Should this be the rule, Blumenberg is an exception. 91 It is ongoing work in refunctionalizing; as—not least—Sommer’s inversions demonstrate (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78–79). Blumenberg himself mentions Socrates thrice in the notorious FAZ questionnaire; all three references will partly be tongue-in-cheek: “Ihre Lieblingsgestalt in der Geschichte? Sokrates, weil man von ihm wenig genug weiß, um sich alles denken zu können”. “Ihre Helden in der Wirklichkeit? Sokrates, weil er nichts geschrieben hat”. “Ihre Heldinnen in der Geschichte? Xanthippe, da sie Sokrates ertrug, obwohl er nichts schrieb” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; bold emph. removed from the three queries). 92 Cf. “Prudence [‘ἡ φρόνησις’] is indeed the same quality of mind [‘ἕξις’] as Political Science [‘ἡ πολιτικὴ’]” (Aristotle NE 346–347, 1141b, VI.viii.1). “Rhetoric [‘ῥητορικὴν’] is […] an offshoot [‘παραφυές’] of Dialectic [‘διαλεκτικῆς’] and […] [‘περὶ τὰ ἤθη πραγματείας’, sc. of pragmatic moral philosophy], which may be reasonably called Politics [‘πολιτικήν’]. That is why Rhetoric assumes the character of Politics” (Rhet. 18–19, 1356a, I.ii.7). “Prudence [‘φρόνησις’] […] is concerned with the affairs of men [‘περὶ τὰ ἀνθρώπινα’], and […] to deliberate well [‘τὸ εὖ βουλεύεσθαι’] is the most characteristic function of the prudent man” (NE 344–345, 1141b, VI.vii.6). Together with the insistence on contingency and particularity in said context (at NE 344–347, 1141b–1142a, VI.vii.7; 348–351, 1142a, VI.viii.5, 8), such will lead onto markedly rhetorical ground (cf. Rhet. 22–23, 1357a, I.ii.12); spec. as to the ‘symbouleutikòn génos’ (Rhet. 32–35, 1358b, I.iii.1–3). Generally, see the onset of ch. 4; plus subchs. 3.7, 4.1 to 4.3, herein. Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting (briefly, Einsicht 41): “Staatskunst und Rhetorik gehen eine unauflösliche Verbindung ein” (“Mythos” 29–30). See Eden: “Renaissance rhetoric made league […] with poetry, philosophy, and history to form a new liberal arts—the studia humanitatis” (“Rhet. [2013]” 829; also as to the art’s supposedly ‘Modern’ devaluation “by the likes of Descartes, Locke, and Kant”, 830). Marquard’s (ironic) praeteritio of the art (“Lassen wir die Rhetorik einmal beiseite”)—precisely in a context reading ‘the Humanities’ qua ‘belated Moralistik’ (Glück 109, with 108)—amounts to a performative contradiction, in his particular case. 93 As tends to be the hypoleptic case, this too will likely be an “Übernahme […] mit […] signifikante[r] Verschärfung” (Blumenberg Höhlen. 280–281; infinitized). On the “Frage des Menschen nach sich selbst”, cf. Balmer (diachronically): “Die Philosophie […] wendet sich […] von der idealistischen Tradition ab und sucht Anhalt bei einem Überlieferungsstrang, der seit Anbeginn den Menschen selbst zur Sprache gebracht und gegenüber allen absoluten Ansprüchen als das Unverrechenbare geltend gemacht hat” (11; plus 15).

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‘unteaching’ certain (arch-)philosophical fears—like “Anthropologism” (Sachen 132; trans. dsm), “Skepticism” (“Annäher. [2001]” 410; trans. dsm), or “absolute chance” (Legitimität 165; trans. dsm)—there are also his iterated attempts at “rehabilitating”, invigorating Sophistics, its “rhetoric” (Unbegrifflichkeit 90; trans. dsm; with 83), their craft and affine procedures (not least among them, solace in levelheadedness).94 For these are also ‘entechnic’: ‘sola humana arte’.95 The latter’s second term is at issue here. Said focus enables another accent on the formula guiding the previous section on this-worldliness. For whether it be ‘supra’, ‘infra’, or ‘nihil’—the constant is, very precisely, ‘nos’.96 Then again, the latter does not seem directly attainable, only via alternative routes—be they above, beyond, beneath, or under (et caetera): The last return, the definitive turn to man[,] does not exist. Only detours lead to him. How far they may be, which dimensions of the world they must still explore and traverse, remains open. The summary process, the procedure of the shortest distances [sc. of cutting corners, using shortcuts], of the avoidance of circuitousness via the short circuit of reflection, does not exist. (Vollzählig. 376; trans. dsm)97

This express dismissal of ‘credulogic’ entails an affirmation of the pragmatic in all its forms—even, or especially, if appearing redundant, discursive; hence dispensable, inessential from a rationalistic angle.

|| 94 Generally, see Blumenberg (Paradigmen [1998] 9); especially his stress on the “rhetorische Funktion des Trostes” (Verführbarkeit 93; with 92). Cf. “Ich versuche mich in Entfürchtung” (Sachen 132; see Verführbarkeit 137); plus remarks on the process whereby “Vorwurfsstrukturen plausibel werden” (Legitimität 130). Cf. Mayfield with respect to a scholarly renovatio of priorly maligned concepts or movements (Artful 9–11; 283n.). On rhetoric and Sophistics, see subchs. 8.2, 11.1.3, herein. As to a “Rehabilitation der Redekunst”, Möller (“Einführung” 16); Nicholls (“Nothing” 72; 74; incl. a “rehabilitation of sophism”). The latter’s context would seem unduly tendentious (“disillusioned and melancholy”, “Nothing” 73); also highly problematic passim. Generally, cf. IJsseling’s opening ch. (1–6). 95 Concerning the concept of rhetorical ‘entechnicity’, see Aristotle (Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.2). For the latter’s ‘pragmatic ruse’ (cf. “Sturz” 16) of “integrat[ing] the Sophistic into Philosophy”, see Blumenberg (Lachen 24–25; trans. dsm; plus Aristotle Pol. 54–57, 1259a, I.iv.5–6). 96 A like effect will result if the formula is paradigmatically altered—e.g. with a Kantianizing tendency: ‘quod ultra (sive meta) nos, intra nos’. 97 “Es gibt die letzte Rückkehr, die endgültige Wendung zum Menschen nicht. Zu ihm führen nur Umwege. Wie weit sie sein mögen, welche Dimensionen der Welt sie noch erschließen und durchqueren müssen, bleibt offen. Das Schnellverfahren, die Prozedur der kürzesten Wege, der Vermeidung von Umständlichkeit durch den Kurzschluß der Reflexion, gibt es nicht”. (Cf. Blumenberg Realität 127–131; spec. “Immer ermöglicht der Umweg die größere Ausbeute”, 129).

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Said circuitousness—which Blumenberg renders thematic recurrently—is expediently illustrated by the image of “Odysseus” qua “figure of humankind”: “To return to Ithaca, so has it [ever] been, requires and is worth the farthest detour” (Vollzählig. 383; trans. dsm).98 Along these lines, one might wish to read the anthropistic opus magnum— notably this posthumous work’s second part (“Contingency and Visibility”), as edited by Sommer (Beschreibung 471–895; here 471; trans. dsm).99 In a most virtuoso manner, that voluminous ‘rhapsody’ tenders a mise en abyme of its inductive approach, meandering écriture—precisely by instancing, elucidating, supplementing (Moralistic) ‘descriptions of man’ from more than two and a half millennia of Western intellectual history: taken up heuristically, tied in with perceptively, interwoven artfully, reaccentuated subtly. For the distinct format of those anthropistic sketches, the philosopher coins the concept “definitional essay” (Beschreibung 511; trans. dsm; see 512–516). This will refer to the—often sententious, aphoristic—make of said miniatures; as well as to the generic prototype implied: Montaigne’s Moralistic ‘attempts’, his characteristically circuitous intertextures, which were and remained formative for Blumenberg’s poetico-rhetorical procedure.100 Such verbalized tentativities articulate the fact and tendency of his ‘limitless labor’—while also conveying the latter’s open-endedness in terms of content.101 || 98 “einer Menschheitsfigur”. “Nach Ithaka heimzukehren, dabei ist es geblieben, erfordert und verlohnt den weitesten Umweg”. The latter is adopted as a point of departure in Timm’s (highly problematic) article (passim). 99 To rigorous systematists, it might seem a compelling case against these pages being a ‘work’ (much less a chef d’œuvre) that Blumenberg would have never taken the text to print in its present form (seeing as he did not). Even so, it is very precisely this (quasi) ms. status as demonstrates his modus operandi—gainsaying the logicians in the most effectual way possible: by performance. For this and the ensuing paragraph, see also ch. 5 (spec. 5.2.1), herein. 100 Not infrequently, one of Montaigne’s essais (resp. anecdotes, observations, bon mots) will serve Blumenberg as an inducement, point of departure, touchstone for his own ‘rhapsodic’ experiments (cf. e.g. Sorge 138–139; with Essays 196, I.42). It cannot be excluded (and may even be the rule) that the author’s name is often only alluded to (as in the term “Definitionsessays”, Beschreibung 511)—or has been dropped altogether. Especially in his more ‘literary’ works, the philosopher seems to be writing with philologists in mind; and will spare them no trouble—by (not) adducing diligent footnotes, meticulous citations. Generally, see H. Ritter: “Auffallend war von Anfang an, daß keine Nuance dem Interesse der Lesbarkeit geopfert wurde” (“Der Arbeiter” 33, with: “wieder unnachsichtig gelehrt”). 101 Throughout his scholarly and philosophical life, Blumenberg appears to have endorsed Husserl’s praxis (theoretically and indeed): “die Rede von unendlicher Arbeit und unendlichen Aufgaben zieht sich durch das ganze Werk des Begründers der Phänomenologie” (zur Technik 193; with 193n.; Lebenswelt 214; plus 214n.)—and through his own (e.g. at Höhlen. 715; GKW II.

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In line with these descriptive experiments, one of the best-known articles published by the present philosopher (first in Italian, then German, English, Spanish) commences thus: “What a human being is has been brought [down] to sentences in countless definition-like attempts at classification” (“Annäher. [2001]” 406; trans. dsm).102 As will be apparent from its very title—‘Anthropological Approach to the Topicality of Rhetoric’—one is here dealing with an express nexus of human beings and téchne, which is generally characteristic for Blumenberg’s thought and écriture. Simultaneously, it may be taken to epitomize the interwoven presence of the three heuristic aspects provisionally guiding the endeavor at hand: worldliness, said animal, and art. Before turning to the latter in the next subsection, man should not come up short. With the related sciences of the early twentieth century, Blumenberg asks how this being is able to exist despite its biological indisposition. The answer may be formulated [as follows]: by not immediately engaging with this [implying: its] factuality. The human relation to reality is indirect, circuitous, deferred, selective[,] and[,] above all[,] ‘metaphorical’. (“Annäher. [2001]” 415; trans. dsm)103

Proceeding from the animal in question, this passage could be taken to correlate the other concepts elicited from ‘sola humana arte’: the central one is in need of the latter to maintain its standing within this world. The sphere of contingency, its variety of týchai, necessitate a ‘home-(or cave-)made’ armamentarium—an arsenal of téchnai—in order to prevail therein by assorted forms of indirection.104

|| 473; Lebensthemen 132; 137; Verführbarkeit 148; Sachen 112; 146; Lebenswelt 214; zur Technik 194; 197–198; 201; 202). Cf. also subch. 11.2.3, herein. 102 “Was ein Mensch ist, wurde in zahllosen definitionsähnlichen Bestimmungsversuchen auf Sätze gebracht”. See said essay’s various trans. (“Approccio”; “Approach”; “aproximación”, all passim); German eds. (“Annäher. [2012]”; “Annäher. [2000]”; “Annäher. [2001]”, all passim). 103 “wie dieses Wesen trotz seiner biologischen Indisposition zu existieren vermag. Die Antwort läßt sich auf die Formel bringen: indem es sich nicht unmittelbar mit dieser Wirklichkeit einläßt. Der menschliche Wirklichkeitsbezug ist indirekt, umständlich, verzögert, selektiv und vor allem “metaphorisch’” (“Annäher. [2001]” 415). Besides ‘(f)actuality’, the word ‘Wirklichkeit’ implies ‘effectuality’ (as in ‘wirken’, ‘Wirkung’). Due to Idealism’s (diachronically) ill-advised influence, the conventional term (‘reality’) is all but incomparably fraught with (mutually contradictory) connotations—wherefore an abstemious use seems recommendable; it is here employed for reasons of euphony only. While hardly to the same extent, the term ‘metaphor(ical)’ still poses problems—as Blumenberg’s inverted commas signal. The first and safest choice will be to take it in an etymologico-literal sense; then a ‘transferred’ (figurative) one. Needless to say, ideologically motivated essentialisms are (of the) misguided. 104 Cf. “die Rhetorik als ihre Agentin [sc. ‘der Kontingenz’] […] darf sich zur Zufälligkeit ihres

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Certain ‘Works on Myth’—especially as developed from an article concerned with the latter’s ‘Concept of Factuality and Potential for Effectuality’—engage with describing said set of issues performatively.105 The verbal craft kat’ exochén is taken up by way and virtue of affine words: With regard to the temporal structure of actions[,] rhetoric […] is the embodiment of deferral. Circuitousness, procedural imagination, ritualization[—all] imply doubts about the shortest connection of two points also being the humane way between them. Aesthetically, for instance in music, we are most familiar with this state of affairs. (“Annäher. [2001]” 420; trans. dsm)106

Not only did the downright pragmatic art of persuasive eloquence conduce to ‘man’s becoming himself’ in the first place (so to speak).107 The very structure of the associated téchnai continues to exert a ‘humanizing’ influence—indirectly, tacitly, quasi ‘subcutaneously’ cultivating the animal in question. Nor ought the latent conditio sine qua non be pretermitted: “contingency” is the “enabling structure” (Küpper “Ordnung” 205; trans. dsm), in this case also. For humans are potentially capacitated to conceive of—and (artfully) convey— the chance, view, or fact that matters may be otherwise, or not at all. Perchance, such is even the distinctive characteristic of said lifeform. In a pertinent essai, Blumenberg expressly attributes a culturing effect to detours; and precisely by way of sentences, whose rhetorical make (or delicacy) might be savored slowly (in a manner of speaking):

|| Gelingens, mithin zu ihrer eigenen Instabilität bekennen” (Möller “Das distanzierte Leben” 6; with 13; and: “der Rhetorik eignet ein momentanistisches Gepräge; und eine Rhetorik, die sich zu ihrer eigenen Kontingenz verhält, hat sich mit dem Diesseits zu bescheiden”, 14). 105 The resp. monograph is among Blumenberg’s most iconic texts (Arbeit passim). See the nucleic article, initially published in Poetics and Hermeneutics IV (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” passim; cf. “Wirkungspotential [2001]” passim; in part, “Aus: Wirklichkeitsbegriff” passim). 106 “Rhetorik […] ist hinsichtlich der Temporalstruktur von Handlungen ein Inbegriff der Verzögerung. Umständlichkeit, prozedurale Phantasie, Ritualisierung implizieren den Zweifel daran, daß die kürzeste Verbindung zweier Punkte auch der humane Weg zwischen ihnen sei. Ästhetisch, etwa musikalisch, ist uns dieser Sachverhalt ganz vertraut”. 107 See Cicero’s rhetorical myth: “there was a time when men wandered at large in the field like animals [‘bestiarum’] […]. At this juncture a man—great and wise I am sure—became aware of the power latent in man […][;] through reason and eloquence [‘rationem atque orationem’] […] he transformed them from wild savages into a kind and gentle folk” (“De Inv.” 4–7, I.ii.2). Cf. Isocrates (“Antidosis” 326–327, §253–255); Plato (“Protag.” 132–135, 322A–323A); NiehuesPröbsting (Einsicht 10–11; Die antike Phil. 121–122; “Glauben” 26; “Mythos” 28–30). Blumenberg refers to ‘humans’ as ‘beings’ of “sozusagen ‘angewandter’ Vernunft” (“Ethik” 176; cf. 177).

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Only if we take detours can we exist. Were all to take the shortest path, only one would arrive. […] It is the detours […], which give to culture the function of humanizing life. In consequence of its exclusions[,] that alleged ‘art of living’ [as takes] the shortest paths amounts to barbarism. (Sorge 137; trans. dsm)108

Withal, the philosopher accentuates “this system of sparing [us] barbarism, called culture” (Sorge 138; trans. dsm); and—in a thought-provoking talk— describes the latter “as a waiving of the swift solutions, the shortest cuts” (“Nachdenklichkeit” 57; trans. dsm).109 In a sense, said angle and its emphasis seem to tend toward the Odyssean modus operandi, rather than the Promethean (heuristically speaking).110 Yet— this being the pivotal pointe—either of these exemplars embody and articulate aspects of ‘what it means to be human’: on the whole, or for the most part. The polytropic one will quite plausibly be reckoned the prosopopoeia of indirection kat’ exochén (including his ploys and maneuvers); while the titan humanitarian—however his performance might be assessed, whether qua hýbris or act of liberation—represents that ‘plus ultra’ constitutive of humankind.111 Either way—be it vertical (bearing fire from above to those below), or else horizontal (endlessly navigating the state of affairs, as well as on water)—both are figurations of anthropine téchne: evermore advancing, and further beyond.

|| 108 “Nur wenn wir Umwege einschlagen, können wir existieren. Gingen alle den kürzesten Weg, würde nur einer ankommen. […] Die Umwege sind es […], die der Kultur die Funktion der Humanisierung des Lebens geben. Die vermeintliche ‘Lebenskunst’ der kürzesten Wege ist in der Konsequenz ihrer Ausschlüsse Barbarei” (Sorge 137). 109 “diese[s] Barbareiverschonungssystem, genannt Kultur”; “Kultur als eine[n] Verzicht auf die raschen Lösungen, die kürzesten Wege”. The latter seems to imply a superlative of the term ‘Abkürzung(sweg)’, hence the above rendition. 110 As to the Odyssean mode—contra “vulgares contingencias”—see Gracián: “el desviarse es lo seguro, consultando a Ulises de astucia” (Oráculo 240, §256); with Blumenberg (e.g. at Höhlen. 60; Legitimität 342–343; Arbeit 86–90; spec.“Odysseus ist eine Figur der ins Gelingen mündenden Leiden”, 87); also for Prometheus (“Fabeln” 344; Sorge 199; “Wirkungspotential [2001]” 383; Arbeit 75–76; 359–367; 515; 644; passim; Goethe 23). These are but hints. Müller speaks of “anthropologische[n] Grundfiguren”—among whom he deems “Prometheus […] the most prominent”, since “basically the entire Work on Myth is dedicated to him” (“Fußnote” 63; trans. dsm; the context may seem problematic). Cf. Goldstein’s title (25; and 42, 42n.); also Möller’s (Prometheus passim; with “Einführung” 14–15). Generally, see Bouwsma (357). 111 Cf. spec. Blumenberg’s phrase: “in die Energie des Plus ultra um[…]setzen” (Legitimität 272). Thereto—incl. further references—see subchs. 4.4, 6.6.1.1, 9.1, 9.2; the onset of 13, herein.

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11.1.3 téchne [It is] the contingent world [that] first of all allows variability on a modern scale. In this sense[,] technology [‘Technik’] is the exploitation of that leeway, which the universalization of the notion of contingency created under the auspices of a theological voluntarism. —Goldstein (44; trans. dsm)

With the above accent, the first segment of this overall chapter reaches the third subsection developed from the (Cusanian) formula ‘sola humana arte’. As to the Blumenbergian leitmotif of ‘detourness’—taking the long way round, ‘the scenic route’—one might précis: the quality of being indirect (‘Umweghaftigkeit’) will be arch-rhetorical at a most fundamental plane. It is so already with respect to inventio and (above all) dispositio—prior to showing through, or emerging, at the level of elocutio (the particular or microstructure, the tropes qua ‘turns’). While an implicit or ‘stylistic’ form of obliqueness—as subtlety, discretion, wryness, understatement—is present throughout Blumenberg’s hermeneuticopoetic œuvre, his most condensed (mayhap decisive) consideration of the image and its import will likely be found in two sequential essays, the latter of which features the significative subtitle ‘Life, a Detour’ (Sorge 137–140; here 138).112 On the whole, he appears to prefer a universal concept of ‘téchne’.113 Qua conglomerate of (predominantly) verbal skills and performances, the present focus—the art of rhetoric—pertains thereto.114 Besides his work on metaphor— sounding out the possibilities of theorizing said phenomenon—Blumenberg did not tender taxonomico-systematic studies on oratory (if compared to Lausberg). As far as is assessable, there are no detailed treatises on (say) the forensic, deliberative, epideictic genera; on inventio, dispositio, elocutio, memoria, actio; on movere, docere, delectare; or on ethos, lógos, páthos; and the like. The query as to whether Blumenberg submitted a ‘philosophical rhetoric’ would depend on the point of reference. Should Aristotle be the gauge—a choice that might stand to reason de re—it is likely to appear implausible that he did.115 || 112 Regarding the former, cf. subch. 11.3, herein. As to a classic reading of the rhetorical “modus obliquus”, see Jakobson (“Linguistics” 91, with 90). Generally, Lausberg (Elemente 34, §66.2c; 146, §447; spec. as to oratorical ventriloquism: Handbuch 410, §824.5; 413, §829). 113 (Cf. e.g. “Verhältnis [1951]” passim; “Lebenswelt [2012]” passim; “Technik und Wahrheit” passim; Geistesgeschichte passim; zur Technik passim). On his concept of ‘technology’, see Recki (65–72; passim); Goldstein (passim; especially 31–33, 45–46); Müller (“Fußnote” 60–62; passim). The present endeavor is concerned with the verbal (and affine) artes in particular. 114 As to the practical accent, see Möller (“Das distanzierte Leben” passim; spec. 3, 8, 13). 115 The query remains a moot point. If answered in the affirmative, qualifications are needful.

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Where applicable and expedient, Cicero or Quintilian are cited in extracts (not seldom, out of context).116 The same as other authors and texts, they seem to serve Blumenberg as stepping stones, in the main. Even so, the present philosopher does have recourse to rhetoric as a utile whole, from which (language-related) techniques or practices may be (and are) extracted, applied—as needed or the case may be. Along said lines, he proceeds oratorically in a rather precise sense—even downright exemplarily so. Withal, Blumenberg will not partake in the devaluation, neglect, decrying, proscription of the art—which remain fashionable in certain milieus.117 Such is of special virulence in cases exhibiting a proclivity for ‘Critique’—perchance (or probably), since the impartial, supra-discursive “faculty” (“δύναμις”, Aristotle Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1) is a feckful antidote precisely to their own ‘ideology’: “Rhetoric teaches to discern rhetoric” (“Annäher. [2001]” 423; trans. dsm).118 Diachronically, the téchne has indeed proven its expediency qua cultural attainment—as the philosopher’s argument in utramque partem demonstrates: Rhetoric is not to be depreciated, where it may be taken for granted that man is disposed for it in a manner sufficient for his needs. For it is not only an art of demagogic seduction […]. It is one of the fundamental errors on the part of all criticism of rhetoric [that] the naked truth[,] [which] it prevents[,] would as such be sufficient also for dealing with what has been revealed in that manner. (Beschreibung 655; trans. dsm)119

|| 116 On Quintilian, see Blumenberg (e.g. Schiffbruch 78–79; Unbegrifflichkeit 60; 97). 117 The philosopher’s sober stance: “Ich habe gesagt, die Kategorie Säkularisierung enthielte ein zumindest latentes ideologisches Moment. Diese Formel hat mir das Odium des ‘Ideologiekritikers’ eingetragen, ganz gegen meinen Geschmack” (Legitimität 130; see also Verführbarkeit 137; “Duplik” 437–438; “Unernst” 441; and, above all: Unbegrifflichkeit 37; cf. Niehues-Pröbsting “Platonverlesungen” 360; D. Adams 380n.; Voller 163; 165; M. Sommer “Zu keiner Zeit” 80; 82). Mayhap more topical than even in his day, this unambiguous statement of dégout will surely not deter such as crave (whether ignorantly or gallingly mala fide) to adorn the philosopher with the major orders of their increasingly institutionalized reoccupations. 118 “Rhetorik lehrt, Rhetorik zu erkennen”; cf. Blumenberg (Verführbarkeit 198). “Rhetoric [‘ῥητορικὴ’] […] may be defined as the faculty [‘δύναμις’] of discovering [‘θεωρῆσαι’] the possible means of persuasion [‘τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον πιθανόν’] in reference to any subject whatever. This is the function [‘ἔργον’] of no other of the arts [‘τέχνης’]” (Aristotle Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.1). Küpper: “a trans-generic system of diction” (Discursive 289). Niehues-Pröbsting: “Gegen Rhetorik hilft nur Rhetorik” (“Ethos” 345). Cf. Kahn (Prudence 157; 181); Mayfield (“Interplay” 5–8, with n.; Ventriloquism 26; 43n.; 199n.); the onsets of chs. 4, 8; as well as 12.3, 13.1, herein. 119 “Rhetorik ist dort nicht gering zu schätzen, wo vorausgesetzt werden darf, daß der Mensch für sie in einer seinen Bedürfnissen genügenden Weise disponiert ist. Sie ist ja nicht nur eine Kunst der demagogischen Verführung […]. Es ist einer der grundlegenden Irrtümer aller Kritik an der Rhetorik, die von ihr verhinderte nackte Wahrheit würde allein schon genügen, um mit dem derart Enthüllten auch fertig zu werden”. In addition to a resp. entitled,

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Even (alleged) verities are subject to contingency—and may be seen, or taken (in), differently; as well as not at all. Perchance, there is indeed an ‘absolute’ liberty in asserting the former (Jn 8:32)—but no way of living with it.120 Relieved of rhetoric (sensu lato), humankind is unlikely to still be free for anything else. Accentuating its effectuality, Blumenberg takes the art as an all-purpose perspective on—and adaptable approach to—factuality. Qua set of variable techniques and coping strategies (including the solace of sound-mindedness), this modus operandi simultaneously articulates a bearing toward the world that—often tacitly, at times expressly—reckons with contingency.121 Conversely, (quasi) Platonizing postures will tend to be quite incapable of perceiving themselves as aspectual (let alone an alternative among many). Even so, this has been their factual status—simply another possible accent, but one more option, a facultative attitude within the syn- and diachronic spectrum of potential human interactions with the world. As a matter of course, it is just this notion which any idealism, absolutism—supposedly timeless, sheerly ultimate, total(itarian) systems (of thought)—must suppress all but necessarily.122

|| posthumously published collection—tendering manifold variations on said theme (Die nackte Wahrheit passim; spec. 17; also Realität 38; 74–75)—see Blumenberg’s remarks on “eine Art Rhetorik der Nacktheit” (Quellen 241); as well as this ironic formulation: “wenn es mit […] dem splendor veritatis […] mal nicht so weit her sein sollte” (Quellen 256). Cf. this characteristic (and probably abysmal) plural: “den nackten Wahrheiten” (Realität 38). With respect to Plato, see Niehues-Pröbsting (Einsicht 108). As to Hobbes, V. Kahn (Prudence 178). 120 Lest this fall into a praeteritio: even the one who declared his being “via, et veritas, et vita” (Jn 14:6; Vulgate)—taught in parables. Cf. Marquard: “Eines ist die Wahrheit, ein anderes, wie sich mit der Wahrheit leben läßt” (Abschied 95; plus “Laudatio” 55). 121 Things may also be—made—otherwise (or to seem neutralized). 122 With respect to Blumenberg’s readings of—and (uneasy) relation to—Plato, the vector will likely be decisive (respice finem). This might put into perspective Niehues-Pröbsting’s recurrent criticism of the former on behalf of the latter (in a variety of affine contexts: e.g. Die antike Phil. 20–21; “Platonverlesungen” passim; spec. 351–355, 358–363; the criticism being rather harsh, in parts; more conciliatory, hence persuasive: “Platon-Kritik” 140–142; also “Mythos” passim; spec. 26, 29, 34, 40, 43, 45). “Blumenberg […] besaß ein Faible für antiplatonische Positionen wie die Sophistik und den Atomismus” (“Mythos” 26; with: “Nietzsche wie Blumenberg haben Platon auf je eigene Weise geachtet”, 46n.). See Sommer on “Blumenbergs Platon-Aversion” as distinguished from “seiner Platon-Kritik” (“Zu keiner Zeit” 78). Niehues-Pröbsting logs “[d]ie Radikalität von Blumenbergs Platon-Kritik” (“Platon-Kritik” 132): “Blumenberg […] ist – zu Recht – der ‘reduzierte Platonismus’, […] mit seinem Doktrinismus und Totalitarismus[,] suspekt” (“Platonverlesungen” 354; with 356). No need for such hedging: the latter are—very precisely—the bent outright of the founder’s mindset (see Blumenberg “Staatstheorie” 127). Plato is a ‘phármakon’: if the encounter therewith is not to end prematurely, one will need to be immune already (by nature); else have the precise condition, whereto his lógoi could serve qua

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On this overall set of issues, the philosopher remarks: “Nietzsche learned from Plato what the Sophistic is”; but “he does not partake in its devaluation” (Arbeit 658; trans. dsm; see Realität 57).123 With some plausibility, the same may be said of Blumenberg. As to that pan-Hellenistic movement, he logs that the polis, language, customs are […] the outcome of human positing and subject to human τέχνη[;] […] [it is] in Sophistic rhetoric [that] history is first conceived as a product of human make […]. While ‘Positing’ is a concept [that] contrasts with ‘Nature’, it is precisely thereby that it comes close to sheer τύχη. (“Nachahmung [2001]” 20; trans. dsm)124

|| antidote. As to “der erstaunlichen Hartnäckigkeit der Blumenbergschen Platonverlesungen” (“Platonverlesungen” 362), Niehues-Pröbsting declares: “Da hat sich, mit Schopenhauer zu reden, nicht der Intellekt, sondern der Wille verlesen” (“Platonverlesungen” 344); “die Nähe dieser Platonkritik zu der Nietzsches ist offensichtlich” (“Platonverlesungen” 347; see Blumenberg Unbegrifflichkeit 88). Mayhap, this very patency—“Blumenbergs mitunter forcierte Lesart” (in Waszynski’s politic wording, “Dilemma” 97n.)—permits another (mis)reading. After Niehues-Pröbsting has plainly, repeatedly logged the ‘an, quid, et quantum sit’ of Blumenberg’s ‘Verlesungen’, it might seem permissible to focus on their ‘Erlesenheit’, and pose the decisive question: ‘quale sit’. Perchance, the answer will not be all that far from what another subtle hermeneutician describes as the skill of ‘manifest blundering’ in an affine context (see Strauss Thoughts 35–37; 106–107; with Blumenberg Unbegrifflichkeit 85). One may well reread NiehuesPröbsting’s hints along said lines (“[dass] er sich […] die Lizenz [‘abzuwandeln’] […] [‘selber’] erteilte”, “Platon-Kritik” 141; “Umfiktion”, 142; “retuschieren”, “Mythos” 43; see 45; with “versuchsweise umzudenken”, Blumenberg Höhlen. 191; “Kunstgriff des Umverstehens”, Schiffbruch 78). The philosopher knows his Plato—as a posthumous text displays: “der […] Gefesselte[…] kennt von […] allen, ja sogar von seiner eigenen Gestalt, nur die Schatten an der Höhlenwand […]: … ἑαυτῶν τε καὶ ἀλλήλων … ἄλλο πλὴν τὰς σκιὰς” (Realität 16, 16n.; see Plato Rep. 6–10. 108–109, 515a, VII). Cf. Niehues-Pröbsting: “Schließlich erwägt Blumenberg sogar als Variation des platonischen Originals, was dieses ausdrücklich bietet” (“Platonverlesungen” 353; spec. with: “Auf den Fehler […] hatte ich Blumenberg […] hingewiesen […]. Das hinderte ihn nicht […] an der Verlesung festzuhalten; im Gegenteil: er verschlimmbesserte sie nun”, 362–363). Perceiving a rather manifest inability or unwillingness to forget one’s Plato, a (tacit) delegation may well appear to be in play. Withal, an express act of ‘self-licensing’ could seem ‘ironic’, prima facie (“ironisch verlesen”, Möller “Einführung” 15); its import is not: “Selbst den Platonismus […] kann man benutzen” (Blumenberg Realität 40). What H. Meyer observes with respect to Fontane might be infinitized and repurposed for Blumenberg’s overall écriture: “Die Abweichungen […] sind so funktionell und dabei so fein nuanciert, daß wir mit Gewißheit auf bewußte Dosierung schließen können” (“Fontane” 226). See subch. 11.3, herein. 123 “Nietzsche hat von Plato gelernt, was Sophistik ist, deren Abwertung er nicht mitmacht”. On these arch-sophísmata, cf. Blumenberg (spec. “Staatstheorie” 128–129; 133; 136; Paradigmen [1998] 9; Verführbarkeit 92; Arbeit 359–371; Unbegrifflichkeit 83–85; Löwen 101; Realität 17–19; 41–47; 57); Niehues-Pröbsting (“Platonverlesungen” 343; “Platon-Kritik” 137–139; “Mythos” 26–27; 46, 46n.); (sub)chs. 8.2, 13, herein. Cum grano salis, Nicholls (“Nothing” 72, 74; passim). 124 “Staat, Sprache, Sitte sind […] durch menschliche Setzung entstanden und menschlicher τέχνη unterworfen[;] […] die Geschichte wird zum erstenmal in der sophistischen Rhetorik als

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About one and a half millennia later, Medieval and Early Modern Nominalism will arrive at assumptions that—mutatis mutandis—may not seem altogether dissimilar (see subchapter 4.4, herein). As is especially patent in its fallouts and attainments, the (potentially) free choice, or effectual will, on the part of human beings comes down to a potent answer (or antidote) to chance outright— precisely due to their affinity: “With its necessity[,] the – […] aesthetic as well as technical – work of human [hands] opposes the accidentalness of natural formations” (“Nachahmung [2001]” 42; trans. dsm).125 Like týche, téchne exploits the fact that—in this world, on the basis of matter—things may be else, or not at all. Every act of positing—whether in thought, craft, deeds (of violence or law), et caetera—could also have failed to occur in a given way, or any. Whatever one might wish to opine regarding the Epicurean ‘clinamen’, the latter’s linking the (supposition of a) liberum arbitrium to contingency may seem to hold good, insofar as diachronic resurfacings of this nexus are appreciated qua benchmark.126 Above all, human beings need not even ‘truly’ have free(dom of) will or choice, in order to act as if they did. For Blumenberg, one markedly “significant element of rhetoric” (“Annäher. [2001]” 416; trans. dsm) elucidates said animal’s capacities more generally: His metaphorical potency affords man the possibility of crafting an [sc. his] own world from a foreign nature […]. To live with what we did not make and could not make is our art and soon becomes the art [as such]. (Lesbarkeit 175; trans. dsm)127

The downright pragmatic reason being: “We only understand, what we have made, and we understand other [things], which we have not made, precisely by || Produkt menschlichen Machens begriffen […]. ‘Setzung’ ist zwar Kontrastbegriff zu ‘Natur’, aber gerade dadurch gerät sie in die Nähe der bloßen τύχη”. Cf. the onsets of chs. 4, 7, 8, 13. 125 “Der Zufälligkeit der natürlichen Formationen tritt nun das Menschenwerk – als ästhetisches wie als technisches – mit seiner Notwendigkeit entgegen”. In the above rendition, the German syntax had to be accommodated to the requirements of English. On (poetical) necessity versus (sheer) contingency, cf. Mayfield (Artful 445–451, particularly 449–451). 126 See Blumenberg (Lebensthemen 60–61; Legitimität 191; 191n.; Geistesgeschichte 119n.; zur Technik 150n.); spec. “Der Zufall – der sich in anderem Zusammenhang Freiheit nennen sollte – brachte eine einzige Abweichung in diesen Urzustand” (Vollzählig. 267). Cf. subch. 10.2.4. 127 “Seine metaphorische Potenz bietet dem Menschen die Möglichkeit, aus einer Fremdnatur eine Eigenwelt zu machen […]. Leben mit dem, was wir nicht gemacht haben und nicht machen konnten, ist unsere Kunst und ist alsbald die Kunst”. A variant of indirection: “die Metapher ist die Sprachform des Ausweichens vor seinen strikten Anforderungen [sc. of ‘Realismus’]” (Schiffbruch 87). Cf. “jede Rhetorik [‘hat’] ihre anthropologischen Prämissen” (Höhlen. 329). “Die Metapher ist […] signifikantes Element der Rhetorik, an dem ihre Funktion dargestellt und auf ihren anthropologischen Bezug gebracht werden kann” (“Annäher. [2001]” 416).

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indirection only[,] via that which we have made”; said accent on “the selfmade” (“das Selbstgemachte”, Lesbarkeit 175; trans. dsm) amounts to a variant of the formula guiding the present endeavor—‘sola humana arte’.128 Granting contingency, there will—as a matter of course—be sundry téchnai, all of which depend on some form of lógos (sensu lato). While many are more or less down-to-earth, a few have or exhibit a definitive proclivity for construing transcendent systems—typically requiring a rigorous hermeticism to be upheld, maintained. To the extent that the latter frequently glory in their own ‘logy’, the appurtenant suffix has become a relatively reliable indicator of the unworldly, as far as the liberal arts are concerned.129 Without reasonable doubt, humankind must endorse the Platonico-Socratic maxim for an equitable social order: “τὸ τὰ ἑαυτοῦ πράττειν” (“doing one’s own business”, “Charmides” 34–35, 161B) includes letting others do theirs—just and precisely so long as it does not interfere with what is generally regarded as good practice in a given environment.130 As concerns scholarly settings expressly, compliance (proceeding de dicto) and due diligence (advancing de re) might develop some tension. Blumenberg’s erstwhile neologism ‘metaphorology’ and his actual praxis will probably be such a case—to the extent that said concept seems to have sent infelicitous signals to certain (hardly centered) partialities.131

|| 128 “Wir verstehen nur, was wir gemacht haben, und wir verstehen anderes, was wir nicht gemacht haben, eben nur auf dem Umweg über das, was wir gemacht haben”. The context is Vico—spec. his “basic tenet: verum et factum convertuntur” (Lesbarkeit 173n.; trans. dsm; see 173–176; and Beschreibung 882; 888–889; “Grenzfälle” 72; Höhlen. 708; Realität 61; Paradigmen [1998] 8; with Amslinger 38). Cf. V. Kahn (Prudence 154); plus the onset of subch. 11.1, herein. 129 This relates to tendencies in the Humanities; the Natural Sciences (geology, meteorology, biology, pharmacology, etc.) are expressly excepted. 130 The formula is frequently repeated and varied (e.g. at “Charmides” 36–37, 161D–E; 38–39, 162A–B; 40–41, 162E; 42–43, 163A and C; Rep. 1–5. 392–393, 433a–b, IV; 398–399, 434c, IV). On the Stoic uptake, cf. Plutarch (“Stoic Self-Contra.” 490–491, 1043A–B, §20; with 491n.; and Rist 131). Kablitz accentuates: “das suum cuique [‘gilt’] seit altersher als Inbegriff einer gerechten Ordnung” (“Nachahmung” 104). Cf. Blumenberg (“Glossen [1983]” 37). 131 Generally, see Blumenberg (Paradigmen [1998] passim; also: “Paradigmen [1983]” passim; “Aus: Paradigmen [1991]” passim). A philosopher is not responsible for the peculiar ways he is (mis)taken, if a reception happens to be obtuse or ideologically motivated. Provisionally, one might discern a sense of (increasing) uneasiness, as concerns the (connotations of the) suffix ‹-logy›: his coining the term ‘Unbegrifflichkeit’ (cf. Schiffbruch 75–93; spec. 89; Unbegrifflichkeit passim; spec. 34, 37, 50–51, 54, 100–101, 107; and: “funktionale Betrachtung”, 110) will point in that direction, as well. See Waszynski’s pertinent assessment (“Berührbarkeit” 75–76; with Blumenberg Beiträge 61). To say naught of certain epigones, the philosopher’s (lifelong) ‘work

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Seeing that the latter is altogether unlikely to have been the philosopher’s voluntas, it may well appear appropriate to tie in with a comparable case— where he restated a similarly problematic term—and suggest that Blumenberg’s respective project comes down to a ‘description of metaphoraí’ indeed.132 In all likelihood, this methodical reaccentuation will also do (greater) justice to the plain fact that his—thoroughly pragmatic—focus is explicitly on their “function” (Lesbarkeit 88; trans. dsm).133 Regarding the philosopher’s praxis in said respect, his work on ‘the world’s readability’ seems of particular import. For it renders legible two (arche)typical images reciprocally elucidating one another—exemplarily so in the second section, causing them to coalesce in that “language of effortless double word formations” (thus Blumenberg’s pregnant description of German at Höhlen. 450; trans. dsm): “Bücherwelt und Weltbuch” (Lesbarkeit 17–21; here: 17).134 In the aforesaid—decidedly functional—view, metaphors afford a potential that may be taken advantage of (in the rhetorical sense of ‘copia’). While noting their (quasi archeological) status as “index fossils” (Schiffbruch 77; trans. dsm), the philosopher even speaks of “exploitation” (Schiffbruch 47; trans. dsm).135 From another—(syntactico-)logical—angle, ‘metaphors’ are “a disturbance at first”; “to put it with Husserl, ‘contrasistency’” (Schiffbruch 78; trans. dsm).136 || on metaphor’ is tentative, ‘rhapsodic’, open-ended—as are his method and textures generally: “weit gespannte Beschreibungsbögen” (M. Sommer “Zu keiner Zeit” 77; cf. spec. 81). 132 Meaning, by analogy to the ensuing: “‘‘Beschreibung des Menschen’ ersetzt den Titel ‘Phänomenologische Anthropologie’’, hat sich […] Blumenberg […] auf einem Blatt notiert” (M. Sommer “Nachwort [2006]” 897). The rephrasing also signals a change in ductus, diction, drift: (t)his is a moralistic, essayistic, Montaignian endeavor. 133 “Funktion der Metapher”. The latter are a “significant element of rhetoric, whereby its function may be illustrated and brought [down] to its anthropological reference” (“Annäher. [2001]” 416; trans. dsm). Accordingly, the general slant of Blumenberg’s early opus magnum might be applied in this context. For the suggestion that metaphors—and, by implication, the art that deals therewith—represent a performance sui generis may yield their (philosophical) ‘legitimacy’ (on balance; cf. and contrast: “Annäher. [2001]” 423). See also: “Physische durch verbale Leistungen zu ersetzen, ist ein anthropologisches Radikal; Rhetorik systematisiert es” (“Annäher. [2001]” 414). Cf. Möller (“Das distanzierte Leben” 3); Niehues-Pröbsting: “Die wesentliche Leistung der rhetorischen Kunst besteht in der Ersetzung der Gewalt durch Rede. Dadurch wird die Rhetorik zur menschlichen Kunst schlechthin” (“Glauben” 25). 134 “Sprache der mühelosen Doppelwörterbildungen”. Approx. “world of books and book of the world” (trans. dsm). Cf. “Daß die Welt ein Buch sei […] ist eine metaphorische Erwartung über die Art der Erfahrung” (Schiffbruch 80–81). 135 “Metaphern sind […] Leitfossilien”. “Ausbeutung der Metapher”. 136 “die Metapher [‘ist’] zunächst eine Störung […], um mit Husserl zu sprechen, ‘Widerstimmigkeit’” (Schiffbruch 78). Rendered by recourse to the build of ‘consistency’, above.

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Then again, a certain (kind of) friction may well conduce to sparks: there is “something suggestive in all metaphoricity, which qualifies it as the preferred element of rhetoric qua attunement in cases [where] definiteness has not been […][,] or cannot be[,] reached” (Schiffbruch 81; trans. dsm).137 The degree to which Blumenberg’s approach is rhetorical may be inferred from the fact that he habitually turns his attention to the other side(s), as well: Metaphors are rhetorical elements, which may become virulent in the milieu of tense [and] problematic situations. While the sufficiently substantiated argument is something like congealed discipline in a theoretical context, the rhetorical element is in need of being rendered problematic precisely to the extent of its capacity for effectuality: does it only tide over the dilemmas of non-understanding[,] or does it drive us further into the condensation of groundless pseudo-evidences? Metaphorology is a procedure for sighting necessary risks and irresponsible suggestions. (Lesbarkeit 405; trans. dsm)138

While exploratoriness is stressed, Blumenberg insinuates the excessive—even ‘viral’—tendency characterizing human beings, their modes and products (ever proceeding plus ultra). With regard to the specific rhetorical trope at issue, this vector will be familiar from the (literary) concetto or metaphora continuata.139 Turning the latter into a diachronically efficacious device, the philosopher illustrates his drift by recourse to an influential, twentieth century translatio:

|| 137 “Man spürt, daß etwas Suggestives in aller Metaphorik steckt, das sie zum bevorzugten Element der Rhetorik als der Einstimmung bei nicht erreichter oder nicht erreichbarer Eindeutigkeit qualifiziert”. Quasi etymologically (with added nuances), “Einstimmung” looks back to Husserl’s “Widerstimmigkeit”. At once, its German prefix is the same as that of the term wherewith it is made to contrast (“Eindeutigkeit”). Paronomastically, Blumenberg’s statement may amount to a (partial) mise en abyme of its message. In its streamlining aspect, the art generally tends toward effecting what Penzkofer terms an “assimilation of perspectives” in another context (“Perspektivenangleichung”, Bedeutungsaufbau 61; trans. dsm; cf. 68–70, 77). On rhetorical accommodatio, see Mayfield (“Interplay” 18–20, 18n.–21n.; Ventriloquism 5n.; 22, 22n.; 33n.; 42n.; 48; 52n.; 79; 84n.; 111, 111n.; 115; 130n.; 141n.; 146n.; 147; 184n.–185n.). 138 “Metaphern sind rhetorische Elemente, die im Milieu angespannter Problemlagen Virulenz annehmen können. Während das zureichend begründete Argument in einem theoretischen Kontext so etwas wie geronnene Disziplin ist, bedarf das rhetorische Element der Problematisierung gerade im Maße seiner Wirkungsfähigkeit: Hilft es nur hinweg über die Verlegenheiten des Unverstands oder treibt es uns voran in die Verdichtung grundloser Scheinevidenzen? Metaphorologie ist ein Verfahren der Sichtung von notwendigen Wagnissen und unverantwortlichen Suggestionen”. The passage is of considerable figurativeness (e.g. “Milieu”, “Virulenz”, “geronnene”, “Verdichtung”, “grundloser”, hence “begründete”, also). 139 Not only, but spec. a Mannerist phenomenon. For salient samples, see Küpper (Discursive 3; 70, 70n.; 71n.; 73; 83–84; 104; 111n.; 144n.; 203; 210, 210n.; 215; 289; 334; 339; 445).

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Rhetoric is always endangered by the corollaries to the means, of whose persuasive force it avails itself. The legitimization of the absolute metaphor of the genetic[ally] coded script was effected by its commissioning as a heuristic model. The corollaries, in which the metaphors ‘jussive text’ and ‘protective script’ coalesce, are no longer borne by the model function. […] To be arguing with the commands of Nature is always questionable. Even if the point is only to leave it in peace. (Lesbarkeit 402; trans. dsm)140

In a world of sheer contingency, plowshares might still cut like swords—it being humans, who use tools (or else, abstain from handling them). Should the latter be employed as weapons, the instruments cannot be blamed—nor can words, or the verbal art. Hence said notions could not reasonably support (philosophical) imperatives requiring that one refrain from rhetoric—to say nothing of the fact that any such attempt will probably be in vain (considering human nature). Even so, a like proclivity may inhere in those who profess ‘hard science’— and (implicitly) believe to arrive thereat by expunging imagery and vividness. Blumenberg’s descriptive work on metaphor serves as a sort of antidote to definitionous absolutism; precisely by recording the process, hence articulating the noetic path’s legitimacy—against the presumed exclusivity, ultimacy, and finality of an (allegedly or factually) scientific objective: Before the naïveté [‘Einfalt’] of prescription[,] the diversity [‘Vielfalt’] of description loses its specific value, on which only a wayward metaphoricity insists: that of affluence, power of expression, language and [the] book. […] As soon as it has advanced in analytical and functional terms, theory breaks down behind itself the vivid aide-raison, whichever service it may have rendered to designing the [theoretical] model. […] Science inevitably destroys the fund of its justifications […]. Even so […]: whatever men have ever thought is noteworthy; to read it, where it may be rendered legible, [is] an act of diachronic ‘solidarity’. (Lesbarkeit 408–409; trans. dsm)141

|| 140 “Rhetorik ist immer gefährdet durch die Weiterungen an den Mitteln, deren Überzeugungskraft sie sich bedient. Die Legitimation der absoluten Metapher von der genetischen Schlüsselschrift ist durch ihre Indienstnahme zum heuristischen Modell erfolgt. Von der Modellfunktion nicht mehr getragen sind die Weiterungen, in denen sich die Metaphern ‘Befehlstext’ und ‘Schutzschrift’ verbinden. […] Mit den Befehlen der Natur zu argumentieren, ist immer bedenklich. Auch wenn es nur darum geht, sie in Ruhe zu lassen”. 141 “Vor der Einfalt der Präskription verliert die Vielfalt der Deskription ihren Eigenwert, auf dem nur eine widerspenstige Metaphorik besteht: die von Reichtum, Ausdruckskraft, Schatz, Sprache und Buch. […] Die Theorie bricht die Eselsbrücke der Veranschaulichung, welchen Dienst immer sie bei der Modellbildung geleistet haben mag, hinter sich ab, sobald sie analytisch und funktional vorangekommen ist. […] Wissenschaft zerstört unausweichlich den Fundus ihrer Rechtfertigungen […]. Aber […]: Denkwürdig ist, was Menschen je gedacht haben; es zu lesen, wo es lesbar gemacht werden kann, ein Akt von ‘Solidarität’ über die Zeit”

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Countering “logic”, the “crossing out of helpful metaphors”—gainsaying the ‘rendering impassible’, or even ‘demolishing’, of what had served the process of “scientific knowledge as a scaffold” (Lesbarkeit 409; trans. dsm)—Blumenberg’s remarkable statement of purpose endorses the care, diligence, and cultivation of memoria: a pluralistic conservation of the very variety of human pathways in thought and performance.142

|| (Lesbarkeit 408–409; with “Cassirers gedenkend” 170–172). In a methodical view, this decisive segment is also discussed in subch. 5.1.3, herein. Generally, cf. Rorty (relativism 117–118). 142 “der Logik ihrer Durchstreichung hilfreicher Metaphern”; “von der wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis als Gerüst in ihrem Rücken abgebrochen, […] unbegehbar gemacht”. Cf. “Die Metapher […] konserviert den Reichtum ihrer Herkunft, den die Abstraktion verleugnen muß” (Schiffbruch 80). “Der Prozeß der Erkenntnis ist auf Verluste kalkuliert” (Schiffbruch 81).

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11.2 Eloquence in Application First, therefore, an orator must labor[.] —Wilson (46, I, l.23) meinetwegen wiederum rhetorisch[.] —Blumenberg (Lesbarkeit 383)143

The present philosopher’s is an applied engagement with wordcraft; and he is a practitioner of said art in (at least) two regards—which the polysemous title for this overall chapter aims to insinuate. One of its senses has been provisionally tendered in the preceding subsections: Blumenberg advances and endorses a rhetorical take on the—scholarly, scientific, aesthetic—matters dealt with; in so doing, his perspectives on the téchne come into view, as well. So as to tentatively describe the philosopher’s written practice of eloquence, the ensuing has heuristic recourse to the first three oratorical ‘offices’.

11.2.1 inventio In traditional rhetoric, the ‘invention’, qua inventio[,] [is] […] a partial process in [a] thought’s linguistic conveyance[:][…] its initially contingent, then methodically dirigible unfolding and exploitation[.] —Blumenberg (Legitimität 119; trans. dsm)144 it is impossible to place too much importance on reading widely. —Schaeffer (“Literary Studies” 277)

Searching, gathering, finding—all pertain to the discipline’s preliminary phase. Blumenberg composes his texts inductively—by way and virtue of an intricately organized, continuously augmented, repeatedly refined, rationalized, updated set of index cards (the so-called Zettelkasten).145

|| 143 Approx. ‘rhetorically once more, as far as I am concerned’ (trans. dsm). Blumenberg’s formulation insinuates a certain irony; hence also: ‘for all I care’. 144 “Die ‘Erfindung’ [ist], als inventio[,] in der traditionellen Rhetorik […] ein Teilvorgang der sprachlichen Vermittlung des Gedankens[:][…] seine zunächst zufällige, dann methodisch lenkbare Entfaltung und Ausschöpfung”. Cf. Krauthausen: “Beschreibung einer produktiven Findetechnik” (63; infinitized). 145 Images—incl. select files, affine materials—are published in Bülow’s/Krusche’s ed. (see Blumenberg Quellen 2; 93–99; 195–201; 263–269). Said volume is indispensable. Cf. D. Adams: “seine Bücher [‘entstanden’] über lange Zeiträume hinweg […], in denen er Material sammelte” (383). Dahlke/Laarmann: “Blumenberg [‘begann’] im Zuge seines Promotionsstudiums jenes

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Based on an attentive, roaming, quasi permacurious reception, this process of writing from a most diligently cultivated fund of striking sentences, particular passages, synoptic citations, regulating concepts, sundry references, newspaper cutouts, select marginalia, incidental(ly varied) reflections—and so forth—may be described as exemplarily rhetorical.146 Everything potentially needed for his scholarly, hermeneutic, essayistic écriture could be deposited in, and extracted from, this associative copia—starting points (or such of departure), resources for (re)contextualizing, adapting.147 As Niehues-Pröbsting aptly accentuates, the philosopher’s “erudition” was not acquired “for the sake thereof”; but in order to “serve […] the method of free variation” (“Platon-Kritik” 141; trans. dsm).148 The sheer presence, almost unlimited potential of this supply not only led to a distinctly rhetorical poetics. It also had ongoing feedback effects with regard to Blumenberg’s process-driven memoria: a decided application—as well as refunctionalization, exploitation—could not but be (and ever remain) in view. With respect to Goethe, it is said: “He liked proverb collections, […] was experienced and generous in forming and reformulating sayings” (Schiffbruch

|| Karteikartensystem anzulegen […], von dem er zeitlebens profitieren sollte” (225). Regarding “[d]e[n] sehr konkrete[n] Arbeitsraum epistemischer Unentschlossenheit aus Zettelkästen, Notizheften, Tagebüchern und Arbeitsmappen”, Amslinger stresses: “sich selbst schuf er mit diffizilen Papierarrangements eine eigene symbolische Welt, die ihrer Bestimmung nach als Text-Katalysator für seine Bücher funktionieren sollte” (9). Withal, “der Blick in die Archive” offers access to a “Möglichkeitsraum” (22). Cf. Starobinski with respect to Valéry’s affine praxis: “Sammeln und Einfahren der Materialien” (243); “Materialen für Bücher”; “eine Sammlung von Erleuchtungen” (248); “Vorrat geistiger Formen” (255). 146 Amslinger opens her superb study with this significative line from an as yet unpublished fragment: “ein[…] mit Lesen verbrachte[s] Leben” (Blumenberg cited in: Amslinger 9; from “UNF 924” at “DLA Marbach”, 9n.). Describing the philosopher “als ausgehungerten und neugierigen Wissenssammler”, she stresses: “Blumenberg […] las Bücher als Reizmittel” (9). 147 Pertinently, Reichel speaks of his being a “Verwalter einer enormen Materialsammlung”, while logging “dass Geschichte für Blumenberg vor allem eines ist: ein riesiges Reservoir für Texte und Themen, das er mit Blick auf Zwischentöne […] auszuschöpfen in der Lage ist” (216). 148 With context: “Seine Gelehrsamkeit […] war ihm kein Selbstzweck; er stellte sie in den Dienst der aus der Phänomenologie stammenden Methode der freien Variation. Er war der Überzeugung, dass diese Methode, wie sie Husserl praktizierte, zu eng sei, was sich ihm an der Armut der husserlschen Beispiele zeigte. Unsere Fantasie reiche nicht aus, all das auszudenken, was uns die Geschichte an Einfällen und prägnanten Gedankenbildern liefert; deswegen könnten wir darauf nicht verzichten. […] es […][‘geht’] um die Ausschöpfung des Denkmöglichen” (“Platon-Kritik” 141; with “Mythos” 45). Cf. Amslinger: “Für die Philosophie, so Blumenberg, sei ‘die Geschichte das einzige Laboratorium, in dem sie ihre Versuche machen kann’” (qtd. at 15). Gamper logs a similar attitude in Musil (see “Dichtung als ‘Versuch’” 601).

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55; trans. dsm).149 Mutatis mutandis, the same may hold good for Blumenberg— considering his discursive, conceptual histories; his penchant for iteration with (slight) variation; his curiosity about ‘(in)famous last words’; and the like.150 In all likelihood, the philosopher’s ‘rhetorico-inventive’ processing will be most discernible by virtue of his rather ‘literary’—rhapsodic, essayistic—works (partly published posthumously).151 Besides, Blumenberg was handling (not to say juggling with) vast quantities of data (scripts, collectanea, reflections, et caetera) long before the introduction of personal computers—let alone the developments, possibilities of information processing pertaining to the new millennium. His manual alternative—the immense number of index cards—amounts to an intensely time-consuming effort. It will be evident that this investment into an arch-rhetorical process of heuristics paid off.

11.2.2 dispositio rhetoric is […] an aggregate of devices for constituting discursive order. —Kablitz (“Verwandlung” 270n.; trans. dsm) Attention to the […] text’s organization lets Blumenberg’s […] procedure come into view. —Waszynski (“Dilemma” 98; trans. dsm)152

|| 149 “Er mochte Spruchsammlungen, […] war darin geübt und großzügig, Sprüche zu formen und umzuformen”. Generally, cf. “Variation der antiken Formel” (Lesbarkeit 284; infinitized). 150 See Waszynski (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 32–35); as well as H. Ritter: “Die Überlieferung von Todesanekdoten der Philosophen hat […] Blumenberg immer besonders gefesselt. Er achtete auf ‘letzte Worte’” (“Der Arbeiter” 33). 151 Cf. “Er wurde zunehmend literarischer, und die Schriften Blumenbergs eroberten sich immer neue literarische Formen” (H. Ritter “Der Arbeiter” 33). These are typically compilations of essais, or comparable shorter forms. Some have a general theme: e.g. Die Sorge geht über den Fluß, Löwen, Matthäuspassion. Others focus mainly on a particular author; here spec. the posthumously ed. Goethe zum Beispiel; Gerade noch Klassiker. Glossen zu Fontane, republished as Vor allem Fontane; also Der Mann vom Mond. Über Ernst Jünger; plus his brief hommage to Lichtenberg. Still others display Blumenberg’s reception: e.g. Lebensthemen, Ein mögliches Selbstverständnis, Die Verführbarkeit des Philosophen. A variety of shorter texts illustrative of his écriture were (first) printed in the journal Akzente (see “Irdische”; “Universalbibliothek”; “Fabeln”; “Momente”; “Über den Rand”; “Glossen [1983]”; “‘Mon Faust’”; “Verfehlungen”; “Grenzfälle”; “Religionsgespräche”; “Nächtlicher Anstand”; “Wolf”; “Epigonenwallfahrt”; “Lebensgedichte”; “Lichtenbergs Paradox”; “Glossen zu Gedichten”; all passim). Some where republished in the (author-themed) collections mentioned above (for heuristic purposes). 152 Pertinently, he refers to “Blumenbergs plural organisierte Schriften” (“Berührbarkeit” 56).

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Blumenberg is also a practitioner of rhetoric as regards the arrangement of his writings. For most of the latter were initially words spoken: in the sense of talks given; but especially as a hybrid of provisional, mono- and dialogic actio—with his dictaphone as audience and interlocutor (see “Teufel” N3).153 Poetic and hermeneutic praxis (sensu lato) will interact quasi symbiotically. Between implementations and conceptualizations, a feedback effect is likely to obtain: the former might (in time) conduce to pied reflections; while theoretical models (continuously of heuristic make) display a tendency to influence actual procedures—however tacitly, latently, in passing (see 12.3, herein). A principle of organization is implied by the term dispositio. As mentioned previously, the philosopher in question does not approach oratory taxonomico‘systematically’—if the latter is taken to denote a categorical “claim to [the] validity of the [respective] statements” (“Wirkungspotential [1971]” 20; trans. dsm).154 Blumenberg’s theoretical approach to the art is (always) focused on the function. This—arch-rhetorical—accent holds good for his applied eloquence. When Marquard records that—“following in […] Cassirer’s footprints”—he took the “step from thinking” in terms of “substance to thinking” with a view to “function”, this relates to “intellectual history”; to that “of philosophy” and twentieth-century “science” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXI–XXII; trans. dsm).155 Yet an engagement with the art at issue will be of far greater import in said context—precisely with respect to Blumenberg’s characteristically diachronic procedure. Induced by immense industry, his is a supra-disciplinary—decidedly Humanistic—erudition.156 It shows a tendency to keep in view more than two

|| 153 Cf. Marquard: “seither [sc. since the time in Gießen] weiß ich, daß zumindest seine [sc. Blumenberg’s] dicken Bücher diktierte Bücher sind” (“Entlastung [1998]” XVIII); “konzentriert auf enorme interdisziplinäre Lektürequanten und auf die Zwiesprache mit seinem Diktiergerät” (“Laudatio” 53; with “Entlastung [1998]” XXIV). See Amslinger (184); spec. her description of “Blumenberg als eifrigen Selbstleser” (195). Cf. also the onset of subch. 5.2, herein. 154 “Anspruch auf Gültigkeit der Aussagen, kurz: ein System”. Naturally, sound and sober theorists performatively imbued with rhetoric will walk the(ir) talk—and abstain from rigorism as a matter of artful course: “Die Grenzen sind fließend” (Lausberg Elemente 69, §194; cf. 99, §306; 103, §317; 131n.; 132, §400; 134, §404; 146, §445; “mit fließenden Übergängen”, 14, §2). 155 “in den Spuren […] Cassirers […] de[n] Schritt vom Substanzdenken zum Funktionsdenken in der Philosophie-, der Geistes- und Wissenschaftsgeschichte”. Cf. Marquard (“Laudatio” 54). 156 Contrast Haverkamp: “Das Werk von Hans Blumenberg, das in Deutschland bestverkaufte und meistgelesene Werk eines Philosophen der letzten 50 Jahre, ist zugleich das um humanistische Bildung bei weitem unbekümmertste” (“Lernen” 47; Halbzeug 127—which ‘upgrades’ the latter to read: “mit humanistischer Bildung bei weitem unbefaßteste”). Seeing that assertions sans fundamentum in re are rarely written for being taken seriously, it will not seem needful to parry an unscholarly value judgment with the like.

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and a half millennia of this animal’s thought and practice—much of which seems to have atrophied in less considerate ‘philosophers’ (soi-disant).157 Condensed into the noted formula ‘cui bono’, ‘functional thinking’ is archoratorical—being a dependable focus of the téchne’s Sophistic parentage.158 In line therewith—and taking up the aspect of oikonomía—Blumenberg’s well-known “model of refunctionalization” (“Umbesetzungsmodell”) requires a rhetorical (re)accent(uation); adding that it “operates with the metaphoricity of managing personnel”, Marquard describes it as an economical system of positions, into which answers or other vital arrangements enter as functionaries, which[,] upon vanishing[,] leave vacancies and duties of replacement. (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII; trans. dsm)159

A diachronic nuance would seem needful (in Blumenberg’s own words): “The ‘refunctionalizations’, whereof history consists, are performed rhetorically” (“Annäher. [2001]” 420; trans. dsm); their “[i]mplementation and affirmation […] are rhetorical acts” (“Annäher. [2001]” 426; trans. dsm).160 After inventio, it is in the second procedural step—dispositio (oikonomía)— that the téchne paradigmatically formalizes precisely a general ‘set of positions’, with manifold possibilities for ‘reallocation’. What is more, the figurative basic model (‘oikos’ plus ‘nómos’) is also that of (household) management: of being ‘economical’—with what had been ‘heuristically’ encountered in the preceding officium—by selecting, assorting, arranging. ‘ In Nietzsche’s œuvre’—as a prominent example—‘antithesis marks more than a local stylistic device; it implements a fundamental formal choice’ (see “Wirkungspotential [1971]” 29).161 Thus, a particular trope attains to structural || 157 Describing the philosopher qua “Grenzgänger zwischen den Disziplinen” with expressly “fächerübergreifende[r] Ausrichtung”, Möller observes “dass die Beschäftigung mit antiker Wissenschaft und Kunst geradezu konstitutiv ist für das Denkgebäude, das Blumenberg in seinem umfangreichen Schrifttum errichtet hat” (“Einführung” 12). 158 Generally, Niehues-Pröbsting: “Das leitende Interesse, das die vielfältigen Erscheinungen der Sophistik verbindet, ist das an der Rhetorik. Die Sophisten sind in erster Linie Rhetoren und Lehrer der Rhetorik, die ihre Erfindung und […] zentrale Disziplin ist” (Die antike Phil. 52). Cf. subchs. 3.1, 3.6, 4.2, 4.3, 8.2; as well as the onsets of chs. 4 and 13, herein. 159 See Marquard’s earlier rendering (“Laudatio” 54). Cf. the discussion on the part of Kablitz, who plausibly applies Blumenberg’s concept(ion) to itself (Neuzeit 35–40; spec. 37). 160 “Die ‘Umbesetzungen’, aus denen Geschichte besteht, werden rhetorisch vollzogen”. “Durchsetzung und Bestätigung der Umbesetzung sind rhetorische Akte”. 161 “Es ist, auf das Ganze des Werkes von Nietzsche gesehen, nicht nur ein Stilmittel und eine Figur der Rhetorik, sondern es ist die Wahl der Form selbst als Antithese”. In a comparative view, one might wish to take into account the similarly rhetorical poetics of key influences on

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significance—is turned into an organizing principle; whence the aforesaid also exemplifies possible feedback effects between elocutio and dispositio. In a sense, especially the first and second parts of Blumenberg’s early opus magnum might be described as an ‘antithetical’ work; that is, if one takes the— contemporaneously all but self-evident—views concerning ‘secularization’ or ‘renaissance’ as points of reference.162 Similarly with his project of describing metaphoricities: an appendix on a potential “theory of non-conceptualness” opens polemically, quoting Berkeley’s exacting ‘a metaphorical abstinence on the part of philosophers’ (Schiffbruch 75–93; here: 75; trans. dsm).163 As will stand to reason, Blumenberg’s vista is the precise opposite (as it were)—making this yet another counter statement in the economy of ‘arguments in utramque partem (vel in plures)’.164 With a view to the interleaving of dispositio and elocutio, one might wish to observe that a rather peculiar form of antithesis also underwrites the aforesaid phenomenon itself: “Metaphorical inconsistencies are metaphorological points of entry” (Lesbarkeit 221; trans. dsm)—rhetorically, the accidental effects, or deliberate device, of abusio (katáchresis, literally).165 Displaying considerable uneasiness and measures of hedging, Blumenberg demonstrates the latter by recourse to a context wherein a natural scientist stumbles into ‘metaphorical breaches’: The key to the genetic code evinces its metaphorical equivocation, in that it is seen as a [‘]key to a very small keyhole[’], which is [‘]ultimately but [that of] a castle in the sky[’]. I refer to this with reluctance, since it is really poor[ly done][;] but qua rhetoric of the ‘tragical sense of the world’ [it] […] does illuminate the type of ‘rueful nobility’ also as regards its logical quality. In hindsight, it seems a highly dubious process to have a sequence of nucleic acid be read, copied or translated[.] (Lesbarkeit 384; trans. dsm)166

|| said philosopher: Paul of Tarsus (the discursive source type of a particularly pervasive, arrant ‘antithetization’), Augustine, Luther; generally speaking, Petrarca, as well. Cf. subch. 8.5.1. 162 See Blumenberg (Legitimität 9–134—spec. on “Die Rhetorik der Verweltlichungen”, 114– 134, and therein 115–116, 119, 122; as well as the second part overall: 135–259). Cf. Flasch (549). 163 “Ausblick auf eine Theorie der Unbegrifflichkeit”; “A metaphoris autem abstinendum philosopho” (Berkeley in: Blumenberg Schiffbruch 75; also: “Ausblick [1983]” 438; “Ausblick [2001]” 193). See the latter’s remark on Freud, as discussed in subch. 11.2.3, herein. 164 For said formulation, cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.2); generally thereto, subch. 8.4. On Blumenberg’s (characteristic) poetics of counter statements, see subch. 5.2, herein. 165 “Metaphorische Unstimmigkeiten sind metaphorologische Einstiege”. For a habitualized sense of abusio: Lausberg (Elemente 65–66, §178–179; Handbuch 288–291, §562; 297–298, §577). 166 “Der Schlüssel zum genetischen Code erweist seine metaphorische Äquivokation, indem er als [‘]Schlüssel zu einem sehr kleinen Schloß[’] gesehen wird, das [‘]am Ende nur ein Luftschloß[’] sei. Ich zitiere das ungern, weil es wirklich schlecht ist, aber als Rhetorik des

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In an œuvre, wherein (despite several ten thousand pages already published) it would be relatively uncomplicated to count the author’s use of the first person singular—simply due to its scarcity (also an elocutionary finding)—the above may seem remarkable; notably as such a (by Blumenberg’s standards) rather drastic value judgment, whereof there is an analogously scant number.167 E contrario, it does say something about his (auto-ethopoetically) distinct reticentia.168 Where such and similar choices are generally the case (else for the most part), they will pertain to dispositio (a given, particular case to elocutio).169 As suggested with regard to his habitually writing ‘et in utramque partem vel in plures’, a consistent, typically evenhanded taking of diverse perspectives— along the lines of ‘free variation’, a (virtual) changing of vantage points, a quasi ‘simulation’ of conceivabilities—is rather characteristic for Blumenberg’s noetic pathways and the economy of his écriture.170 Heuristically speaking, his descriptions tend to be relatively impartial—in the sense of a provisional disinclination toward vertical structures such as sub-

|| ‘tragischen Weltgefühls’ […] doch auch seiner logischen Qualität nach die Typik des ‘reuigen Adels’ beleuchtet. Es erscheint im nachhinein als höchst zweifelhaftes Verfahren, eine Nukleinsäurekette abgelesen, kopiert oder übersetzt werden zu lassen”. See Chargaff: “Die […] Biologie […] hat uns den Schlüssel zu einem sehr kleinen Schloss geliefert; und am Ende ist es nur ein Luftschloss” (815). Its paronomasía with ‘Schlüssel’, the play on the homonym ‘Schloss’ (‘lock’, ‘castle’), cannot be retained in English; hence the above intercalation, whereby the former is given as pertaining to the latter (the wisecracking effect may be similar). Blumenberg says he is ‘citing’ (“Ich zitiere”), but is actually using indirect speech—sans indication, which parts are being qtd. (hence the inverted commas added herein). Withal, the (scientific) author of said lines is not even mentioned in the philosopher’s immediate context (neither the text, nor page), and merely appears in an annotation a page prior (Lesbarkeit 383n.). While such is not uncommon in his citational practice (cf. “daß Blumenberg großzügig in der Verarbeitung seiner Zitate verfuhr”, Haverkamp “Nachwort [2007]” 118), the present case may well signal the philosopher’s uneasiness—spec. considering his harsh value judgment. 167 (A significative instance: “Sokrates [1964]” 300; “Sokrates [2001]” 89; see Amslinger 196). 168 Cf. this downright ethopoetic remark: “Blumenberg hielt sich vorsichtig zurück” (Braun 338). Pertinently: “Aus einer deskriptivmethodischen Vorsicht” (Blumenberg Vollzählig. 463). Where emotives do appear, they tend to be accompanied by signals of irony: “Ich versuche zu entmystifizieren, soweit der hermeneutische Vorschuß nur reicht. Er reicht nicht weit genug” (Lesbarkeit 277)—not incidentally in a Romanticist context (here as to the brothers Schlegel). 169 Cf. Lausberg (Elemente 27, §46; with 43, §99.2). 170 See H. Ritter: “Wer mitlas, hatte schließlich an Blumenbergs Lektüre von Lichtenberg oder Hebbel in immer wieder neuen Anläufen, Varianten und Umgebungen teilgehabt. Und so bei vielen Autoren, die dem Philosophen das Material seiner Reflexionen lieferten” (“Der Arbeiter” 33). The condition being “immer das Bewußtsein möglicher Alternativen präsent zu halten” (Heidgen et al. 15). Contingency in application.

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or super-ordination; and a poised preference for horizontal arrangements, like potentially open-ended sequences, associations, juxtaposition, coordination.171 Not infrequently, said perspective taking is performatively evident in the syntax: “That is one side [to it] […]. The other side is”, et caetera (Lesbarkeit 384; trans. dsm).172 Also, this formula of semantic or stylistic contingency seems to be of added value in Blumenberg’s textual oikonomía: “With other words” (“Mit anderen Worten”, Schiffbruch 82; trans. dsm). In certain respects, it condenses the officia of inventio, dispositio, elocutio—being a heuristic guideline for finding variants; a tentative principle of selective repetition, judicial variation; and a subtle or pregnant reminder that a given diction may well be else.

11.2.3 elocutio von literarischer Eleganz und gedanklicher Präzision[.] —H. Ritter on Blumenberg (Denker 104)

The syntactico-formal, elocutionary, content-related phenomenon of virtually ‘appresenting’ other views, sides, parties also has been exercised and employed by rhetoricians for more than two and a half millennia. At once, it pertains to ‘good’ Phenomenological ‘practice’ (see chapter 12, herein). Even the latter discipline’s Platonizing turn may be seen as a variant of perspective taking—albeit an un-(or other-)worldly one: “Husserl’s rhetoric is idealistic; and in so doing[,] it goes further than ‘the things [at hand]’ require” (Lebenszeit 46; trans. dsm).173 Needless to say, there will likely be no ‘-logy’ as might covet coming down to a ‘technicality’ (meaning, from its standpoint). With Blumenberg, the method is ‘the message’ (so to speak): descriptio—as such, and ultimately ad infinitum.174 This is precisely how Husserl proceeded de facto—despite Idealist presumptions.175 In the former’s case, teleology is neither || 171 This remark refers to a general tendency; exceptions may conduce to a rule. 172 “Das ist die eine Seite […]. Die andere Seite ist”. 173 “Husserls Rhetorik ist idealistisch; […] darin geht sie weiter, als es ‘die Sachen’ erfordern”. Cf. “Rhetorik der Phänomenologie” (Beschreibung 318). Cf. ch. 5 (spec. the onset of 5.2), herein. 174 Varying McLuhan (passim); see subchs. 5.1, 5.2.3, herein. Apparently considering rhetoric in terms of an inflectional dispositio and elocutio (the latter spec. qua ornatus), Blumenberg observes: “Man kann die ganze Spekulation als bloßes Beiwerk der Beschreibung betrachten. […] Verstärkung der Deskription, Nachhilfe bei ihren Mitteln – also so etwas, was es gar nicht geben dürfte. Rhetorik der Beschreibung” (Sachen 170). 175 With respect to the arch-Phenomenologist’s unbounded descriptions, Blumenberg reads (hence writes): “talk of endless labor and infinite tasks permeates the entire work of the founder

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needed nor requisite (let alone desired): “What is to be described comes to the fore, once one has begun” said process (Sachen 173; trans. dsm).176 Even so, one will probably be dealing with a sort of ‘iceberg principle’ between input and yield—it being ‘easy to overlook the measure of attentiveness required and invested into descriptive procedures’ (see Lebenswelt 172).177 When Blumenberg writes of (say) the “rhetoric of Novalis” (Lesbarkeit 265; trans. dsm) or others, he tends to refer to an écriture or ductus distinctive of the respective œuvre or auctor.178 In this way, the philosopher is also utilizing the polysemous concept(ion) of ‘rhetoric’ as emphatic of a marked elocutio or style. Prior hints as to an oratorical train(ing) of thought might be reaccentuated for his diction. A significant encryption or escamotage of the ‘emotive function’ (see Jakobson “Linguistics” 66–67; 71) will hold sway. Affinely, ‘elocutionary indirections’ are observable: the devices of wryness, understatement; a tacit, subtle, semioticized smile (not to say smirk) between the lines.179 A note on Blumenberg’s rhetorically elegant humor may seem meet at this point. In a Freudian milieu—wherein he appears especially prone to a refined and latent kind of irony—a conceptual field opens wide, across several pages.180

|| of Phenomenology” (and his own)—adding that “no dismay is discernable, when he speaks of the infinity of labor, [and][,] at any rate[,] ‘labor’ is one of the characteristic words in Husserl’s language […][:] an infinity of theoretical labor demanded” (Lebenswelt 214–215; trans. dsm; zur Technik 193; Wirklichkeiten 40–41); “veritable infinities of descriptive labor” (Lebenswelt 214n.; trans. dsm; zur Technik 193n.). The aforesaid concept is also present in Nietzsche’s Nachlaß (“unendliche Arbeit”, KSA 11. 20, 25[36]). Blumenberg gives it an extensive context and application when stating that “all scholarly [and scientific; ‘wissenschaftlichen’] efforts of the Modern Age turn [literally: grow] […] into an ‘endless task’” (GKW III. 656; trans. dsm). Talk of ‘limitless labor’ permeates his œuvre indeed. For further references, cf. subchs. 5.2.2, 10.4. 176 “Was zu beschreiben ist, stellt sich heraus, wenn man zu beschreiben begonnen hat”. While definition seems self-contained, description is sustainable. See subchs. 5.1.3, 5.2, herein. 177 “Deskriptive Verfahren lassen das Maß an Voraussetzungen der Aufmerksamkeit, das in ihnen investiert ist, leicht übersehen” (Lebenswelt 172). The above hints at one of Blumenberg’s preferred metaphors (e.g. at Quellen 93; 203–269; spec. 211). See subch. 5.1.3, herein. 178 “Rhetorik des Novalis”. Plus: “Rhetorik der Aufrichtigkeit” (“Annäher. [2000]” 68); “auch innere Rhetorik der Selbstüberredung” (Vor allem 119; cf. Wirklichkeiten 5). “Kierkegaard wollte die Besonderheit seiner Rhetorik in der Anwendung des biblischen Wortes über Johannes den Täufer auf sich selbst finden: Ich bin eine Stimme” (Verführbarkeit 151). For further instances, see Blumenberg (“Teufel” N4; “Staatstheorie” 133; 136; Lesbarkeit 10; Lebenszeit 46; GKW II. 320; Arbeit 272; Beschreibung 652; Sachen 29; 170); and subchs. 5.2, 11.3, herein. 179 This set of issues will be taken up with respect to the philosopher’s reading of Fontane in subch. 11.3. Generally as to similar forms in Blumenberg, see Voller (passim). 180 On “structural similarities” (spec. “partial affinities”) between Blumenberg and Freud, see Zill, who logs: “Freud war in Blumenbergs Denken immer in mehreren Hinsichten präsent”

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One may read of an “ideal”, which the analyst “probably did not even deem approachable” (Lesbarkeit 342; trans. dsm); then the abysmal dictum: “Soul is a provisional concept” (Lesbarkeit 343; trans. dsm); and a gloss refers to the emphatically “‘provisory’ character of Psychoanalysis” (Lesbarkeit 342n.; trans. dsm).181 A citation from Freud follows, wherein an emphatic “v o r l ä u f i g” appears (“provisional”, Lesbarkeit 345; trans. dsm). Afterwards, Blumenberg pens a sentence as may seem significative for his style of (th)inking: “Of this express, partly even accentuated provisionalness Freud made abstinent use indeed” (Lesbarkeit 346; trans. dsm).182 In formal respects, this veritable pointe is prepared over the course of at least five pages.183 Its tendency will be paradigmatic for the philosopher’s poetics—wherein the tentative, the preliminary, the contingent are not tropes, elocutionary strategies only; but downright distinctive structures, modi operandi et laborandi.184 In his abovecited obituary, Marquard observes the ensuing under the third header (“Schreibart”, ‘écriture’): “also by way of the literary form of his works did he[—]who argued by narrating discursively or aphoristically[—]seek relief from the Absolute” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXI; trans. dsm).185 Well may one say: Blumenberg’s dictional conduct ‘hesitates’—as do humans, in his description.186

|| (“Affinität” 147; trans. dsm; cf. passim). The critic’s intercalated qualification notwithstanding, it is more than doubtful that the philosopher’s (general) proclivity for latencies ever ‘receded’ (incl.—or especially—‘on the linguistic plane’): “Zumindest auf der sprachlichen Ebene tritt bei Blumenberg die Metaphorik des Untergründigen, wie er sie in den ersten Texten zur Metaphorologie verwandt hatte, zurück” (Zill “Affinität” 147). Likely: on the contrary. 181 “wohl nicht einmal für annäherungsfähig hielt”. “Seele ist ein provisorischer Begriff”; “‘provisorischen’ Charakter der Psychoanalyse”. 182 “Von dieser ausdrücklichen, gelegentlich sogar betonten Vorläufigkeit hat Freud allerdings einen abstinenten Gebrauch gemacht”. In its context, the inserted “allerdings” is likely to serve as a signal of irony; idiomatically, one might as well render it as: ‘sure made’ (or even ‘sure did make abstinent use’). Further formulations with a certain affinity follow: “Dieses Provisorium ist eine Gnadenfrist” (Lesbarkeit 346). “Freuds Metaphorik hat aufs engste zu tun mit seiner ganz eigenen ‘Endgültigkeit des Vorläufigen’” (Lesbarkeit 347). 183 See H. Ritter—as to a more extensive ‘odyssey’ (subtly bringing that hero into contact with the humanitarian titan): “als hätte der Autor nur so weit ausgeholt, um das Wort ‘Gegen einen Gott nur ein Gott’ zugleich mit der Napoleonepisode zu deuten” (“Der Arbeiter” 33). 184 Cf. e.g. Heidgen/Koch/Köhler (passim). On laboriousness, see also subch. 11.3, herein. 185 Stressing philosophical content, Marquard gives Blumenberg’s “wissenschaftliche Prosa” as “Problemdrucksteigerungsprosa”, “Problemkrimis” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXI; “Laudatio” 55). Focusing on the form from a rhetorical perspective—qua elocutio, but spec. as dispositio— further and differing accents may seem conceivable (in terms of applied contingency). 186 Glossing Kant: “Ich suche die Ehre des Fabius Cunctator. Der Mensch zögert und zaudert nicht, weil er Vernunft hat, sondern er hat Vernunft, weil er gelernt hat, sich das Zögern und

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Reaccentuated elsewise still: the philosopher’s writing is tarrying turned into text: “Skeptiker demonstrieren nicht, sind cunctatores!” (Blumenberg Realität 117).187 Considering the posthumous reception, he sure has bided his time.

11.3 ‘Clairaudience’. Blumenberg’s Poetic Hermeneutics of Fontane’s Subtlety Being asked what he cherished most in his friends, he replied: ‘Discretion’. —Blumenberg (see “Fragebogen [1985]” 260; trans. dsm)188 Es gibt schlechthin keine Pflicht, alles zu sagen, was man sagen könnte[.] —Blumenberg (Quellen 210)189

Provisionally, the above ended by emphasizing the very humanity of writing. A focus on lingering may well be turned to good account—surely (while not only) in terms of an expedient transition. For subtilitas—a rhetorico-poetic technique taking advantage of potential latencies—could be conceptualized as a prudent abstinence, or wary withdrawal, from over-articulation. Said mode is one of indirection—a focal performance for Blumenberg.190 Contingency enables one to proceed otherwise: also via alteri (or their texts), in order to say or insinuate something else (simultaneously)—including about

|| Zaudern zu leisten. Die Vernunft ist ein Inbegriff präsumtiver, antizipatorischer, auch provisorischer Leistungen” (cited, and commented upon, at Beschreibung 559). “Der Mensch ist ein zögerndes Wesen, verdient den Beinamen Cunctator” (Beschreibung 276). See the opening of Blumenberg’s acceptance speech (“Nachdenklichkeit” 57—spec. the hedonistic insinuation: “Lust am Zögern”). Cf. “Der Mensch ist ein zögerndes Lebewesen, weil und solange er Distanz zu dem hat, was sein Handeln herausfordert. Distanz kann die des Raumes wie die der Zeit sein” (Sorge 18). Plus the reference to “den anthropologischen Sachverhalt, daß Verzögerung und Zögern ganz wesentliche Gewinne einer neuartigen Optik, der räumlichen Distanz und ihrer Abschätzbarkeit, gewesen sind” (Präfiguration 9). On man as a deferring animal, see also Marquard’s assessment of Blumenberg’s thesis (“Entlastung [1998]” XXII). 187 “Skeptics do not demonstrate, are cunctatores [sc. hesitators]!” (trans. dsm). 188 He is replying to a standardized questionnaire in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (FAZ): “Was schätzen Sie bei Ihren Freunden am meisten? Diskretion” (“Fragebogen [1985]” 260; bold emph. removed from the query). The free rendition given above aims at aligning the diction with the characteristically anecdotal format of such (and similar) quasi dialogs in D. Laertius. 189 “There simply is no duty to say everything one could say” (trans. dsm). See the significative variation of this dictum: “Es gibt hier Dinge, die zu sagen wenig erlaubt erscheint” (“Sterblichkeit” 19). “Es gibt hier Dinge, die zu sagen wenig erlaubt ist” (Goethe 104). 190 See spec. subchs. 5.1.2–3, 5.2.2–3, 10.3.1, 11.1.1–3, herein.

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one’s crafted ‘selves’.191 For the words of particularly affine writers might be used to (obliquely, nuancedly) articulate a respective author’s stance, as well. The present philosopher’s inductive and descriptive modus operandi largely proceeds from, and decidedly works with, (manifoldly) mediated sources, and assorted textual records in particular—retaining (rather than simply ‘reducing’) humankind or history.192 Conditionally and inter alia, Blumenberg may well be read as a reader of readers—here ‘especially Fontane’.193 In his obitual encomium, H. Ritter logs the philosopher’s ‘handling of a heavy pensum all but effortlessly’, his “literary toilsomeness [‘Schwerarbeit’]” (“Der Arbeiter” 33; trans. dsm). Marquard’s memorial address likewise stresses Blumenberg’s “concentrating on enormous workloads of reading”; his “utterly dedicating” himself “to the work on his texts” (“Entlastung [1998]” XXIV; trans. dsm). The labor of diligent perusal leads to that of writing—again translating into the respective recipient’s. Limning or insinuating a specific rhetorical genus, the ensuing sections focus on the interplay—and decided processuality—of labor, lectio, and scriptio as legible in, and from, Blumenberg’s work. By recourse to an author of lifelong affinities, the most toilsome path of an illimitably inquisitive reception may be traced—tentatively and pars pro toto.194 Both are lives of perusal, turning into cultivated, written ones—being boundless labor to the last. Along said lines, one might—for the time being—work out “[t]he immanent tendency of all this laboriousness” (“Mühseligkeiten”, in the plural): “One

|| 191 As regards Blumenberg’s indirect auto-ethopoiíai, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 154n.; 177– 178, 177n.–178n., 182; 190n.–191n.; generally also: 3n., 4, 45n., 75n., 83n., 131n., 135, 145n., 152n.–153n., 161n., 165, 165n., 169, 181n., 185n., 187n.–188n., 198n.). 192 By contrast to Descartes (Legitimität 208–209) and the arch-Phenomenologist: “Husserl hat […] die geschichtlichen Resultate […] verschmäht” (Beschreibung 162). “Phänomenologie” against “Psychologismus […] biologistische Anthropologie […] Historismus” (Lebenswelt 129; cf. Sachen 132; Verführbarkeit 137). See Marquard: “dem ‘Psychologismus’, dem ‘Historizismus’ und ‘Soziologismus’, dem ‘Anthropologismus’ und dem philosophischen Sinn für die ‘Existenz’ [‘ist es’] niemals besser gegangen als von jenem Augenblick an, in dem die Phänomenologie sie scheinbar endgültig widerlegt und eingeklammert hatte” (Glück 132; with Skepsis 59). Cf. Lübbe’s accent on “Historie als Medium einer Kontingenzerfahrungskultur” (“Identität” 658). 193 Alluding to the altered title of another posthumous ed. compiling the philosopher’s essays on Fontane (see Vor allem passim; here: 3, 5, 7): “wie ein roter Faden zieht sich eine FontaneSpur durch […] Blumenbergs […] Werk” (Vor allem 2, fm). By and large, Flasch accentuates: “Blumenberg war zeit seines bewußten Lebens ein Freund der Dichtung” (443). 194 Pertinently, Waszynski observes “eine Affinität” of “Blumenbergs Lebenswelttheorie […] zu Fontanes Inszenierungen ‘schönster Selbstverständlichkeit[en]’” (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 20; brackets around “[en]” in the source; with Blumenberg Vor allem 22).

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cannot […] even let this get laborsome [‘mühselig’] enough for oneself” (GKW I. 235; trans. dsm)—with a poetico-paronomastic pun on the very nexus of ‘Mühe’ (‘effort, sweat o’ brow, pains’) and ‘selig’ (‘blissful’).195 Blumenberg’s legibly limitless toiling might be condensed into the formula ‘labora et lege’. By no means insubstantial, nuances are the quintessence of scholarship. The endeavor at hand attempts to provisionally evince the added value of the philosopher’s applied reception—his rhetoric in performance. Showing himself a close and careful reader, he produces perusals as simultaneously elucidate another’s methodical écriture—exemplarily, the Fontanean; and as put it into practice in a respectively present text.

11.3.1 Reading Classics with Clairaudience Aufmerksamkeit und […] Verfeinerung[.] —Blumenberg (Unbegrifflichkeit 104)196 nuances and subtleties[.] —Alford (Poetic Attention 4)197

To be ‘suffering’ from synesthesia seems to be a conditio (mayhap sine qua non) of some artistic dispositions. In “1889[,] Wilhelm Busch wrote to his friend [and] painter[,] Franz von Lenbach: ‘Truly! Certain things are most distinctly seen by the ears’” (cited in: Asmuth “Anschaulichkeit” 171–172; trans. dsm). The above title offers a neologism modeled on ‘clairvoyance’; and said sense of sight is also part of the novel concept’s connotations, in that its theoretical point of reference tends to involve the visual.198

|| 195 “Die allen diesen Mühseligkeiten immanente Tendenz”. “Man kann es sich […] gar nicht mühselig genug werden lassen”. Aptly, Amslinger points to “den mittelhochdeutschen Kern des Begriffs ‘Arbeit’ […]: Mühsal und Plage” (212). See subch. 5.2.1, herein. 196 “attention and […] refinement” (infinitized; trans. dsm). The latter merits the former. 197 Cf. “the […] subtle variations […] are many, inflected by […] infinite nuances” (Poetic Attention 51; infinitized; see 38). Pertinently, she calls for “approach[ing] with more precision the subtler forms of noticing and attending” (Poetic Attention 52); and for “mak[ing] ever finer and more nuanced readings and selections in perception” (Poetic Attention 275). 198 The sense is that of ‘clairvoyance’ (“used of visual and mental clearsightedness”, Onions et al. 178)—sans spiritualist connotations. It used to mean “having insight”, before being “able to see things that are out of sight” (Barnhart/Steinmetz 175, s.v. ‘clairvoyant’). As to the complementarity of the senses, Mittenzwei aligns a “lange geübte[s] Sehen[…]” (“Spielraum” 321) with a trained ear: “gerade wenn sich dieser Fontane-Ton einer Sache bemächtigt, so schwingt in ihm eben jener Vorbehalt der Differenzierung, der sich wiederum herleitet aus dem

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Blumenberg’s key formula for approaching Fontane is “hellhörig lesen” (Vor allem 39), ‘reading with a keen ear’—‘with clairaudience’.199 While this philosopher surely did not preach, he did practice the respective approach himself—as his collected essays on the Ruppinian writer demonstrate to recipients with a sense for subtlety. At once, said hermeneutics mark a corresponding poetics in performance. Interpreting not only has recourse—but also leads—to texts. Both turn into—are inseparable from—each other.200 Writing may be a form of reading—specifically in cases where subtle minds are meeting.201 || Horchen auf die Sprache und dem bewußten Einsatz ihrer Nuancen” (Sprache 96; cf. 108, 129, 149, 151, 154, 162; also “Spielraum” passim; spec. 318, 322–323, 325–326). 199 Craig stresses Fontane’s “Gehör für […] Kadenzen und Rhythmen der Sprachmelodie” (228; “subtile Variationen”, 48). Cf. B. Plett: “Auf eine sehr subtile Weise dient das rhythmische Sprechen […] dazu, eine kryptische Anspielung zu pointieren” (58; see her performative use: “geprägt”, “subtile Allusion”, “prägnant wie subtil”, 181). Mecklenburg logs “Beobachtungen zu feinsten sprachlichen Unterschieden” (190; “Präzision […] das differenzierteste Sensorium”, 188). Naumann insists on “der nicht hörbaren, doch lesbaren Differenz” (17; with 24). See Mecklenburg’s (socio-linguistic) ch. “Erzählkunst der feinen Unterschiede” (183–227; here 183)—as to the interplay of the “gesellschaftlich feinen Unterschiede”; and Fontane’s attention to the “feinsten sprachlichen Unterschiede[…]” (196; see 202, 217; spec. 215, “subtile”). 200 Pertinently, Waszynski speaks of “lesend-schreibende[n] Verfahren der Glossierung” (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 22; with 16). 201 It will here be meet to acknowledge Tatlock’s response to the author’s Portland talk. Three key aspects were addressed: first, ‘the relationship of reading (or listening) and writing’, of the hermeneutic and poetic arts; secondly, the training of ears “against surface reading” (with subtlety insinuating a “critical take for select readers”); lastly, the significance of dissimilar capacities on the part of recipients, in both of the aforesaid respects. Elaborating on the second, Tatlock stressed that hermeneutic attentiveness may lead to an (autodidactically induced) “recognition of superior craft”, precisely by exercising “one’s ear” with ‘regard’ to semantic potentials; complementarily, the subtle latencies characteristic of Fontane’s poetics virtually give themselves to an “unsupervised training” of the reader’s “ear” (qtd. from Tatlock’s response). As to her first query, a provisional reply could accentuate that writing is not infrequently induced by reading: subtle recipients may well tender their elicitations in essayistic, academic formats (Montaigne, Bacon, Blumenberg, or Borges might be instanced for Occidental literature). Concerning Tatlock’s third query, the rhetorical factors of polyfunctionand circumstantiality will be of import: Fontane’s poetic virtuosity is able to address and affect various (or differently capacitated) audiences simultaneously. Cf. “Je nach Kenntnisstand ihres Rezipienten hat diese Aussage ganz verschiedene Lesarten” (Schmauks 45; plus 47; “bei verschiedenen Zuhörern verschiedene […] Wirkungen”, 51). Lyon/Tucker log “Fontane’s […] protean nature, his ability to transform and be viewed from different angles” (6; with 7, stressing his skeptical “suspicion of a single, certain perspective”). To the second aspect, it might be added that a given textual patterning may conduce to priming recipients for a poetics of the en passant: while seeming contingent prima facie, certain data or impressions could turn

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A certain hint that such is likely to have happened may be obtained from Blumenberg’s wryly epithetizing Fontane as having ‘become a classic just in time’—hardly a remark sans (auto)ethopoetic precision.202 Seeing that “‘Classic’, insofar as it is connected to prestige, inevitably signifies a normative concept” (Kablitz Kunst 100; trans. dsm), one might ask which formal and conceptual choices conduce to said assessment.203 In this respect, one decisive insinuation is provided by a most clear-sighted hermeneutician: “We are in need of a second education in order to accustom our eyes to the noble reserve and the quiet grandeur of the classics” (Strauss On

|| out to enhance the artful facture involved—in hindsight, intra-, intertextually, after rereading, or simply by chance; slight deviations from familiar configurations can (re)direct the attention. As to “formal means that Fontane employs […] to suggest interrelations”, Thomas observes that “contiguity, similarity”, “connotation” may well “establish associative connections between seemingly unrelated” aspects, matters (215; cf. “connection by association […] requires the reader’s imagination”—resulting in “subtly linked motif[s]”, 228); “productive mistakes” (229), “inadvertent changes” could “redirect[…]” a recipient’s focus (221; “the reader’s expectations are raised and disappointed”, 224). Cf. Lyon (“The reader cannot help but wonder”; “gives […] more prominence than it might have had otherwise”, “Disjunctive” 116). In affine respects, it will be expedient to consult Kablitz on the concept of ‘implicit coherence’, notably as to what might trigger “die Suche nach etwas Impliziertem” (Kunst 153; 154; with ch. 4, spec. 149–165). 202 See the title of Blumenberg’s essays on Fontane in its first publication (posthumously, 1998); and in the text: “Weil Fontane gerade noch ‘Klassiker’ werden konnte, gibt es über ihn – wie es sich für einen Klassiker gehört – philologischen Dissens” (Gerade 30). Said collection was republished and -titled in 2002 (Vor allem passim; here 37). Cf. Waszynski (“LebensweltLektüre” 13–14, 14n.). As to Fontanean (auto)ethopoiíai, see Mittenzwei’s formulations: “auch Nuancierungen des Selbstbildes”; “von sich zu schreiben […], indem er auf andere eingeht” (“Spielraum” 322). For (in)direct variants, cf. Tatlock (“reliance on portraying […] other men”; “fabricated […] himself”; spec. “his reconstruction of himself, a famous author whom his various audiences thought they already knew”, 186; plus 206). Pertinently, H. Mann observes: “sein eigenes spricht verhalten mit”; the reference is ambiguous (Fontane’s “Leben” or “Ende”)—likely a simultaneity (175n., as to §60). 203 Cf. Küpper (“Kanon” 58–62; passim; spec. “was zum […] Eigenen dekretiert worden war”, 45; “Macht–Agenturen […] [‘tendieren’] immer zum Konservatismus”, 57). See Blumenberg (de re): “die Sachnähe ist offenkundig, wenn man nur das Wort ‘klassisch’ ersetzt durch das Wort ‘kanonisch’” (Lebensthemen 77). As Machiavelli’s praxis will evince (“sanza alcuno respetto”, “Discorsi” 56, I.Pref.; see Discourses 5), “eine unverkennbare Freude am respektlosen Umgang mit der klassischen Tradition” (Voss 264; cf. Müller-Seidel 470) need not exclude the resp. writer (here Fontane) from becoming a ‘classic’ himself; on the contrary: “die Unterstellung einer Tradition dient der Betonung des Konkurrenzgedankens” (Blumenberg “Staatstheorie” 146n.). Noting “Fontane’s inclination to intertextual writing” (“Reality” 24; Facetten 425), Böschenstein stresses his reworkings: “What is striking is not only the support Fontane finds in another poet’s expression but also the displacement it undergoes” (“Reality” 24; Facetten 424).

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Tyranny 185).204 Such might apply to any work as is (contingently) held to be so, at a given time.205 Both the valuative dimension, and the needful refinement (of attention), are furnished by the (verbal) art par excellence.

11.3.2 The Rhetorical genus subtile utilissima est dissimulata subtilitas, quae effectu apparet, habitu latet. —Seneca the Elder (Controv. 1–6. 22, 13M, 1.Preface.21)206 Subtilität ist […] ein Indiz für […] Nachdenken[.] —Blumenberg (Sorge 161)207

|| 204 On Fontane’s “narrative reserve”, see Engler-Coldren (122; with 136–138; spec. “there seems to be ‘something held back’ in every linguistic and mimic expression”, 135). She logs: “Measure” may “mean[…] to be ‘subtle’” (131; trans. “fein”: “Effi” 190, §22—plus “Diskretion”). Given Engler-Coldren’s choice of topic, her reserving all comment on Aristotle will hardly seem an expression of equitable reticence. An expedient remark in the critic’s précis—“‘The right measure’ differs from situation to situation and from person to person” (139; cf. “relative to circumstances”, 125)—derives its (scholarly) plausibility from the philosopher’s discussion thereof; and in virtually the same words (“the mean relative to us […] is not one and the same for everybody”, NE 91, 1106a, II.vi.5; with 109, 1109a, II.viii.8; “questions of degree depend on particular circumstances”, 113, 1109b, II.ix.8, plus context). To say naught of the Fontanean matter (and novel) Engler-Coldren is treating—given the ensuing Aristotelian comment in this precise environment: “Not every action or emotion […] admits of the observance of a due mean […], for instance, whether one commits adultery with the right woman, at the right time, and in the right manner” (NE 97, 1107a, II.vi.18). Reaching for, if not grasping, the philosopher’s resp. concept—‘tò méson’, ‘mesótes’, with the decisive qualification ‘pròs hemas’—cannot but seem requisite (cf. NE 76–77, 1104a, II.ii.7; 90–115, 1106a–1109b, II.vi.4–II.ix.9, spec. 95, 1106b– 1107a, II..vi.1–16, and 110, 1109a, II.ix.4; for applications: 96–113, 1107a–1109b, II.vi.18–II.ix.7; as to the general rule in terms of practice, 114–115, 1109b, II.ix.9). Trimpi’s resp. elucidation is indispensable (Muses 123, 123n.; with xi, 171–172; and “Mimesis” 207). 205 On such contingency, see Küpper: “Die Klassiker sind unsere Klassiker. In einer anderen Welt mit einer anderen Geschichte wären sie keine Klassiker. In unserer Welt sind aber diese und niemand als diese die Klassiker. – Da in einer Geschichte ohne Gott und Weltgeist das Künftige fundamental offen ist, heißt dies nicht, daß unsere Klassiker auch die künftiger Generationen sein werden; es ist durchaus denkbar, daß sie früher oder später allesamt nicht mehr antworten” (“Kanon” 61–62). As regards “den alten Fontane”, Vincenz aptly observes “daß er längst in jene Zone zurückgekehrt ist, wo jede Ordnung zufällig erscheint” (91). 206 “the most useful sort of acuteness is the sort you hide—its effect is plain to see, its presence obscure” (Controv. 1–6. 23, 13M, 1.Preface.21). 207 “subtlety is […] an indication of […] reflection” (infinitized; trans. dsm). As with close readings, reciprocities will be meet; and the former merit the attention given.

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‘In surface we trust’ could be an auxiliary maxim for handling the everyday.208 Matters may well be else—in different contexts. For sustainedly training one’s ear to discern what might be stated between the lines pertains to intellectual cultivation overall.209 Oratory not only sophisticates the speaker. At any rate, the qualitative versions of the latter must have been noetically alert hearers for some time; and will (it may be hoped) stay so, as well. While not the respective willingness, a capacity for attentiveness could be taught and acquired indeed. Readerly prudence tends to be the fruit and yield of experience (where it does develop); but there are also ways to learn wariness.210 Despite suffering from a widespread loss of esteem after the Enlightenment (soidisant), the téchne kat’ exochén remains the most reliable means to said end. The rhetorical style calling for the closest attention is not the grandiloquent one—striking ears and eyes with spoken or written ‘pyrotechnics’.211 Rather, the most demanding form of elocution is outwardly the plainest and simplest, the humblest even—whence it is usually referred to as the genus humile or subtile.212 The latter adjective already signals that appearances may well be deceiving. Along with the more common equivalent, it is still used in English also in this form, denoting something “fine, […] thin, […] acute, keen”, “delicate, elusive, crafty”; in line with its Latin etymology: “under” (“sub-”) plus “web” (“tēla”), else the corresponding verb (“texere”)—as also present in the word ‘(sub)text’ || 208 With added delicacy: “Enthüllung führt nicht in die Tiefe der Dinge, sondern nur an eine andere Oberfläche, die für das Letzte genommen wird, weil sie zugleich den Weg zu Weiterem versperrt” (Blumenberg Die nackte Wahrheit 17). 209 See also Lausberg on “emphasis” (Elemente 73, §208; cf. 137–138, §419, spec. ‘Anspielung’, “ὑπόνοια”, as well as “προκατασκευή”, “verhüllte[…] Vorbereitung eines […] Gedankens”, 138); “more is implied than is actually said […] – Die Emphase […] wird verstanden durch ‘Verständnis des Implizierten’ (ἐπινοεῖν, subintellegere, subaudire)” (Elemente 73n.). Cf. subch. 11.3.5, herein. As to Fontane, see von Graevenitz (“übt den lesenden Blick”, 713); spec. “Aber Schwerpunktsetzungen lassen absichtlich viele Ränder offen” (639). B. Plett encourages “das zwischen den Worten versteckte Unausgesprochene mitzulesen” (197). 210 Cf. this potentially metapoetical remark: “Ich glaube, Sie hören alles, was Sie hören wollen, und sehen alles, was Sie sehen wollen” (Unwieder. 81, §11). Lyon cited the line during his talk at the Portland GSA congress on Oct 6, 2019. 211 It is typically referred to qua “genus sublime”; also “grande”, “vehemens”, “grandiloquum” (Lausberg Elemente 154, §468; see 155; Handbuch 522–524, §1079.3). As regards the mixture of the subtle with the sublime, cf. Auerbach (Mimesis [1982]. 147–150, VII; passim). 212 See Trimpi’s lucid exposition (Muses 140–141). Cf. Lausberg (Elemente 154, §466; also: 33– 34, 66.2a; Handbuch 519–520, §1079.1.a–g). On the genus “familiare” as related to “epistolary writing”, see spec. Eden (Rediscovery 74; plus 2, 8, 75, 77, 80–82, 93; passim). With regard to Fontane’s Stechlin, Vincenz pertinently observes: “So fein die Unterscheidungen sind, die er anstellt, so trägt er sich doch in einem kaum zu überbietenden Naivitätsstil vor” (81).

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(Barnhart/Steinmetz 1085, s.v. ‘subtile’, ‘subtle’).213 Generally therefore, it will denote something latent, of particularly “thin or fine consistency”, “marked by acumen or fine discrimination” (Onions et al. 881, s.v. ‘subtle’).214 Rhetorically, the style at issue seems smooth—is characterized by purity, perspicuity, svelteness.215 Ostensive plainness gives the concept its name in the present lingua franca, as well. Along the lines of an Early Modern master rhetorician—Ben Jonson—Trimpi’s is the authoritative study in this respect. He describes said elocutio as one of “subtle” and seemingly “unlabored simplicity” (Plain Style 58 with 65).216 Aptly so called, this genus appears to convey facility— a “felicitous flow of words and concepts” (Küpper “Denken” 259; trans. dsm).217 || 213 Bacon also has the form “subtilty” (Advancement 99, II; cf. 83, 111, 126, 132; “Subtilitas”, “subtilitatem”, Novum Organum 84, I.x, 158 in Spedding/Ellis/Heath; plus Pater 62). Aptly, von Graevenitz logs Fontane’s “durchgeformte Textur” (684). As to his ‘subtexts’, see Böschenstein (Facetten 86–88; 426; 435; “Reality” 25; 28; “carefully elaborated sub-texts”, 32). She inquires: “Gibt es unter der Schicht des Erzählens […] einen versteckten, nur durch genaueste Lektüre zugänglichen […] Subtext” (Facetten 86); and premonitorily raises the question of a (perhaps overly) “subtilen Interpretationsmethode”, where “Anspielungen […] hineingelesen werden” (Facetten 85; cf. “aus der subtilen Symbolsprache […] ablesen”, 170). Böschenstein instances “sub-texts woven out of allusions, […] speaking names, […] associations – the sub-texts […] are in part so subtle that they have been unveiled only after several decades […][;] they are necessary when tabooed subjects are to be integrated into the text – Fontane […] is very cautious in this respect” (“Reality” 28; Facetten 430). By way (if not virtue) of application, she offers this downright performative dictum: “Das Verstecken […] in ganz geläufigen Wendungen ermöglicht die zarte Eindringlichkeit des Subtextes” (with “Tiefendimensionen […], die erkannt werden wollen”, Facetten 90; plus 460; reader discretion advised). 214 Cf. “prob[ably] orig[inally] a weaver’s term, f[rom] *sub tēlā (passing) under the warp” (881, s.v. ‘subtle’)—the implication being that what is ‘under the woven thing’ (resp. ‘the surface’) is also ‘woven underneath’ (the latter is indebted to Küpper; n. on the ms. of the ch. at hand; Sept 9, 2019). For what may well be the most pertinent Ancient passage thereto, cf. Seneca the Elder (Controv. 1–6. 20–23, 12M–13M, 1.Preface.21–22; with 20n.–21n.). 215 See Lausberg (Handbuch 519–520, §1079; Elemente 468, §466). 216 Cf. Trimpi’s seminal study (here spec. Plain Style 6–8; 58; 65; on Cicero, 61; above all: as to an ‘elegance’, “whose source of power we do not completely understand”, 57). See subch. 13.1. 217 It is in a Fontanean context that Küpper logs “das Gelungensein des Flusses der Wörter und Konzepte” (“Denken” 259). On the above, Cicero: “Nam orationis subtilitas imitabilis illa quidem videtur esse existimanti, sed nihil est experienti minus” (“Orator [1962]” 362, xiii.76; cf. Blass Beredsamkeit I. 390, 390n.). In line with his Humanist agenda, Erasmus accentuates that the “simple or humble style, […] stilus humilior, […] must be a docta humilitas—a ‘learned simplicity’” (in: Eden Rediscovery 77). As to the later Fontane, Bange stresses “die […] subtile Klarheit seines Stils” (34). See Everett: “Fontane is at once the simplest and the subtlest of novel writers” (85). Cf. the prosaist’s notes on “sancta simplicitas” (Briefe 1879–1889. 120, letter of March 3, 1881, §115; with Th. Mann “Der alte Fontane [1968]” 46; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 12; B. Plett 319–320). For abysmal implications, see Nietzsche (Menschliches [KSA 2] 80, I.2.67).

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In their take on “prosification”, Kittay and Godzich suggest that “anything communally considered to have the status of natural is most likely the locus of powerful semiotic mechanisms” (xi).218 Likewise Blumenberg—on Fontane: “Yet as with everything seeming easy due to great skill, the impression that anyone else would have said it just so, is deceptive” (Vor allem 66; trans. dsm).219 Hence the appearance of elegant effortlessness is indeed the most difficult to achieve—whether in physical matters, or when ‘dancing in words’ (as it were).220 In this sense and so doing, the genus subtile attains to the artful desideratum par excellence: concealing the very skill and craft involved.221 (Rhetorical) contingency—that anything may also be (made to seem) else, or not at all—is its condition of possibility.222 This is not a style that speaks for immediate effect. It thrives on discursive or semantic potentials, leaves much

|| 218 De re, cf. Lyon’s accent on an “attempt to veil this linguistic constructedness with rhetoric of natural phenomena” (Crafting 165). 219 “Dennoch trügt, wie bei allem durch großes Können leicht Wirkenden, der Eindruck, so hätte es jeder andere auch gesagt”. While characteristically hyperbolic (hence ever cum grano salis), there is a certain pertinence to Lanham’s ensuing remark: “The real deceiver is the plain stylist who pretends to put all his cards on the table. Clarity […] is a cheat, an illusion” (22). 220 Cf. Müller-Seidel as to Fontane’s epistolary craft: “der Stil dieser Briefe, ihre Mühelosigkeit und lässige Prägnanz” (481; with Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 315n.). Generally, see Cicero on “neglegentia […] diligens” (“Orator [1962]” 362, xxiii.78); incl. further references, also Mayfield (Ventriloquism 127–128, 127n.–128n.). 221 Cf. Aristotle (e.g. Rhet. 350–353, III.ii.3–5, 1404b); with Freese (“Intro.” xlv–xlvi); Cicero (“Orator [1962]” 362–363, xxiii.76–77); Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 280–281, 4.2.127); Mayfield (“Interplay” 5–6, 6n.–7n.; Ventriloquism 108n.; 116n.; 128n.; 158; 197–199, spec. 197n.–199n.; incl. further references). On celare artem in Fontane, see spec. von Graevenitz (with emph. on “feingliedrige”, “verfeinerte”, 683). While not free from ideological constraints itself, Berman’s reading (a provisional corrective for previous, highly criticistic construals) elicits “the political agenda inherent in the formal structure”: “the suppression of plot and the inclusion of digression are themselves politically charged”; what “is”—or appears—“uneventful” might “artfully set[…] the stage for later developments” (“Digression” 22; with his précis at 29). Cf. Lyon’s formulations (“seemingly irrelevant to the plot, proves crucial”, “Disjunctive” 110; “On the surface”, 111; “Or so it would seem”, 114; similarly: Engler-Coldren 138; Tatlock 207). The latter’s particular observation will be of general applicability: “Fontane […] proceeds in a more subtle fashion; he […] allows readers to draw their own conclusions” (207). 222 On Fontane’s resp. habitus, see the motto and its gloss in subch. 11.3.4. As to degrees of ‘fineness’ being contextually contingent, see Dubslav’s (quasi epideictic) dictum: ‘“das gröbste Telegramm ist das feinste’. Wenigstens das in seiner Art vollendetste” (Stechlin 27, §3). Contrast Czucka, whose appraisal thereof seems (utterly) innocent of the art, and construes argument in utramque partem (resp. making the weaker the stronger) as “Beliebigkeit”, ‘nihilistic’ (30; also passim, spec. 34, 36). As to telegraphese, cf. Mittenzwei (“Spielraum” 315–316).

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leeway—and in the latencies.223 Its mode is not the glaring or the gross; not the high contrasts or extreme polarization; it does not indulge in that vulgar greed for instant gratification.224 While their consequences are generally less direct or striking, the ‘classic’, lithely quiet tones not infrequently dominate the long run—in terms of sustainability, hence humanitas.

11.3.3 Blumenberg on Fontane’s Style Kunst der Nuance[.] —Nietzsche (“Jenseits [KSA 5]” 49, II, §31)225

|| 223 On Fontane in this regard, see spec. Mittenzwei (“Spielraum” 321; and passim). Generally, Hemingway (165)—as cited in subch. 5.1.3, herein. 224 Nor is such sans relevance to the lifeworld: those who scream (or fowls as tweet) the loudest do not tend to have the most to say—typically on the contrary. Conversely, formal subtlety, practical or conceptual intelligence will unobtrusively, inexplicitly, tacitly reciprocate between the lines. See Seneca (Ep. 1–65. 410–412, LIX.4–5)—discussed in 11.3.5. Generally, Küpper stresses the ‘non-classicism’ of “Überrhetorisierung” (“Kanon” 45). On the notion of “Überfeinerung” in a draft on Fontane’s part, cf. Mecklenburg (205; 208); with Böschenstein (“den plumpen Kontrast vermeidend”, Facetten 462). 225 Nietzsche speaks of the “art of nuance” (resp. nuancing; trans. dsm) in the segment ‘der freie Geist’. By recourse thereto (see “Jenseits [KSA 5]” 49, II, §31; 67, III.46; 215, IX.262; 217, IX.263; “Götzen [KSA 6]” 110, ‘Was den Deutschen abgeht’, §7; KSA 12. 289, 7[7]), Müller-Seidel notes the “Nuancenkunst Fontanes” (467). Likewise, Mecklenburg accentuates “seine Kunst der Differenzierung und Nuancierung” (183; cf. Grevel: “bedeutungsverändernde Nuancen”, “Subtil”, 62). Also speaking of “zarter Nuancierung” (17), Vincenz states the needful: “das Spiel der leisen und leisesten Nuancierungen zu verfolgen bedeutet einen hohen Genuß” (11). Aptly, Strech logs: “auf diese Nuance des ‘fast’ kommt es bei Fontane sehr an” (155). Via Fontanean self-statements, B. Plett shows the “‘grenzenlose[…] Tüftelei’” (‘reworking’, ‘honing’, limning, ‘differentiating’) involved in his diligent poetics (1; “Differenzierungswille”, 319; “‘literarische Facettierung’”, 326). Cf. “die Fontanesche Passion für das ‘Feilen’” (Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 322). The prosaist himself: “Nüancierungen sind der Stolz des Romans” (Briefe 1890–1898. 526, letter of Jan 7, 1896, §562; plus Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 322). Concerning the effectuality of Fontane’s sermocinationes, H. Meyer perceives “ein sehr subtiles und schwer durchschaubares Wunder erzählerischer Technik” (“Fontane” 202–203). As to delegating quotes to characters, the prosaist is seen to focus on “die […] Nuancen noch subtiler herauszuarbeiten” (“Fontane” 224). “Der Reichtum von Fontanes Zitierkunst […] besteht in einer subtilen Nuancierung” (“Fontane” 205–206). “Parenthesen […] sind je nach dem Sprechenden unglaublich subtil nuanciert” (“Fontane” 223). Cf. Rohde: “Es kommt […] bei der Fontane’schen Causerie generell […] auf das Ungefähre, das Atmosphärische, die Nuance, das Graduelle, auf Zwischentöne an” (281). See Mittenzwei: “Daß Fontanes Erzählkunst von Nuancierungen lebt, ist inzwischen communis opinio” (“Spielraum” 322). She refers to a “Sinn für die Nuancen und Möglichkeiten der Sprache im Dienst der Selbstironie” (Sprache 149); stresses a “Genuß des Dialogs und der

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Fontane may be deemed the grandmaster of German prose in this very sense.226 For he is ein Mann der leisen Töne—‘a man speaking low’, slow, always “with a difference” (Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 359, IV.v.181).227 Anyone who has perused said prosaist for some time will likely consent that his écriture renders requisite an exceptional attentiveness.228 The writer’s elusive silences, tacit insinuations, restrained delicacy, artful discretion request a congenial reader.229

|| Möglichkeit, Pointen und Positionen […] kommentierend zu nuancieren” (“Spielraum” 323). Wölfel logs Fontane’s “feinen Sinn für die Nuance, für das deutende Detail” (337). Th. Mann observes “die geistige Nuance” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 52; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 20), stressing “Freiheit und feinere Kultur” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 53; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 21). As to the latter, Waszynski records: “Dieser Aufsatz hat den Gang der Fontane-Rezeption maßgeblich beeinflußt” (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 33n.). 226 Schmauks’ economic formula for Fontane may yield a quasi characteristic of the genus subtile: “mit sparsamsten sprachlichen Mitteln […] hellsichtige Aussagen” (45; plus 49). See his suggestive remarks on Japanese (fine) art: “Es wird in ihnen die Kunst geübt, einen Effekt oder eine Perspektive mit allergeringsten Mitteln hervorzubringen […]. Fast möcht’ ich glauben, daß sich ein Studium dieser Arbeiten und ihrer Technik auch unsererseits verlohnen würde” (GBA V.5. 325). An application to his (seemingly) plain, (rhetorically) subtle écriture will be effortless. During her GSA talk (Oct 6, 2019), Kontulainen stressed Fontane’s ‘natural’ artfulness in affine respects (spec. via the delicately tell-tale formula “recycling the familiar”). Cf. “alle Sätze sehen aus, als entstammten sie der Alltagsrede, und sie tragen doch zugleich ihre Differenz in sich” (Czucka 29; “mit geringen, gleichwohl bedeutsamen Abwandlungen”, 31; the overall context is problematic). Voss—noting “die versteckten Gesprächszitate […] viele subtile Nuancen” (263)— stresses “daß zunächst leicht darüber hinweggelesen wird” (8; cf. 262; “unscheinbare, leicht zu übersehende”: von Graevenitz 683). See B. Plett’s précis of her findings: “Allusionen und Zitate werden […] zu komplexen und subtilen Instrumenten der [‘An’-, ‘Voraus’-]Deutung” (323; plus 309, 315; “subtil differenzierte Gestaltungskunst”, “charakteristische Nuancierung”, 197). Spec. in Der Stechlin “[‘wird’] das Zitat […] in subtiler Weise der individuellen Redeweise assimiliert” (321; “auf äußerst subtile Weise”, “Zitatsplitter”, 72). As to the latter, cf. Vincenz (10–11; 14–18). 227 See H. Meyer: “Auf die leisen Töne kommt es an. Diese Menschen [in ‘Der Stechlin’, here] sind fast ausnahmslos sehr sprachbewußt, sie horchen auf den Ausdruckswert ihrer Worte und kommentieren dessen Nuancen” (“Fontane” 223). “Bei Fontane […] [‘sind’] Abweichungen vom Wortlaut […] so funktionell und dabei so fein nuanciert, daß wir mit Gewißheit auf bewußte Dosierung schließen können. Nur bei sehr aufmerksamem Hinhören lassen sich […] die […] Gründe der jeweiligen Abweichung erraten” (“Fontane” 226). Müller-Seidel speaks of “einer geschärften Sensibilität für Töne, Übergänge und Nuancen” (466). Cf. Strech (155); Rohde (282). Fontane’s “world is one of transitions and nuances” (Lyon “Disjunctive” 109). 228 See Küpper’s stressing “[qu’]on lit le texte attentivement” (“Fiacre” 262). Likewise Voss: “Vorsicht und Aufmerksamkeit” (8; with 9). 229 Cf. “beinahe freimütig und doch immer durchaus diskret” (Stechlin 86, §7). See Vincenz (“mit überaus diskreten Mitteln”, 11); Böschenstein: “We find in Fontane the speaking silence […] as […] a principle of art” (“Reality” 24; Facetten 425). “Je lebhafter er spricht, desto mehr wächst das Sprachlose an” (Facetten 60; plus 473). Aptly, she logs “Prägnanz als eine Form des

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Whoever else might feel called upon, Blumenberg was surely such a one.230 When he intimates “Fontanes Subtilität” (Vor allem 32), the term will be cogent beyond the immediate plausibility of its descriptive import, in that it also points to the rhetorical genus so named.231 Hardly would it be an overstatement to deem Fontane the paragon of Germanophone literature along these lines.232 This does conduce to his aforesaid status as a ‘classic’.233 A nexus between that valuative label and the subtle genre may be seen in its privileging the usus, formality, a poetics of silence and the en passant. An unobtrusive (if ironic) distance is prioritized—characterized by decency, discretion, delicacy.234 || Versteckens”—“ein bewusst gewähltes und bewahrtes Schreibverfahren” (Facetten 472; cf. “Evokation”, 475). As to the “Fontane-Ton” (Th. Mann “Der alte Fontane [1968]” 47; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 13; see Mittenzwei Sprache 96), Vincenz speaks of “sanfter Gewalt”, “lyrischer Insinuation” (18; cf. Jolles Fontane 108)—an apt hint at the force of rhetorical ‘persuasion’. See Zimmermann: “Dieser Ton […] durch stetige Konversation […][,] durch Lektüre [‘kultiviert’] […] begnügt sich […] mit Anspielungen […] und rechnet mit einem geistreichen Zuhörer und Leser” (140). Cf. Mecklenburg’s “Versuche in hermeneutischer Minimal art” (203–227; here 203). 230 As to the reciprocity of perspective taking, cf. spec. Mittenzwei (“Spielraum” 318; 322). Böschenstein stresses “[d]as subtile Verständnis, […] [welches] Fontane […] zuteil werden ließ” (Facetten 35; infinitized). Like-mindedness may be conduced to, if not effected. Waszynski logs: “Fontanes Schreiben und Blumenbergs Glossierung treffen sich in ihrer Aufmerksamkeit für die disruptive Kraft des Marginalen” (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 26; with 29–31). 231 The philosopher’s accents in spec. contexts may seem generalizable; e.g. “Läsionen subtiler Art” (Gerade 59). Pertinently, Rohde stresses “die Subtilität von Fontanes Erzählkunst, […] die[…] Feinheiten in den Blick bringt” (282). 232 See Nürnberger: “Fontane […] war […] ein Sprachmeister, dem die Sprache selbst zum Thema geworden war” (“Mommsen” 125). 233 Cf. Blumenberg: “‘Klassiker der Moderne’”; “noch ein ‘klassischer Klassiker’”; “gerade noch ‘Klassiker’” (Gerade 30; Vor allem 36–37). 234 Irony being a form of freedom, Küpper accentuates its requisite reserve (“den für die Ironie notwendigen Abstand von ‘Erleben’ und ‘Reflektieren’”; “Dekadenz [1997]” 211n.). Cf. Strech (140; 152). As to an affine discreetness, the former observes: “Comme Fontane, Flaubert évite tout explicite cru – ce qui distingue leurs textes de ceux de Zola. Fontane et Flaubert ont en commun de communiquer ce qui n’est pas dit explicitement en introduisant un niveau secondaire de signification qui s’ajoute au niveau primaire, ce dernier restant intact” (“Fiacre” 260). See Mecklenburg’s ch. on “Formen und Funktionen erotischer Anspielungen” (228–263; here 228). Spec. “Die weitgehende Aussparung der erotischen und sexuellen Seite […] entspricht der bei Fontane üblichen Diskretion eines Erzählens in Andeutungen. Man muß die im Text verstreuten Indizien sammeln” (207; cf. 200, 215, 244; “hinter diskreten Andeutungen […] versteckt”, 209). He stresses the writer’s ‘decent’, if “ironic discretion” (229; trans. dsm): “Auch bei unfeinen Themen bleiben die feinen Unterschiede gewahrt” (“dezenter”, 231; “grobe Unfeinheit […] mit ausgesuchter Feinheit […] inszeniert”, 249; “raffiniert an[ge]spielt”, 250; “Feinheit”, “virtuose Technik”, “subtile”, 262). Böschenstein notes an “eigentümliche Scheu, die die Wahl der erzählerischen Mittel bedingt” (Facetten 60; cf. “Sehr diskret […] angedeutet”,

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In said regard, an intratextual remark on Effi’s part may be read as metapoetical: “And why? Well, I do not wish to disclose it” (“Effi” 16, §2; trans. dsm).235 Fontane’s is “a technique of description” that has “great respect […] for the aptum”, while “proceeding [in a] fundamentally vague” manner—that is, “imprecise” in terms of “allusion” (Küpper “Fiacre” 263; trans. dsm).236 Blumenberg’s reading of the present writer seems singularly valuable in describing—hence bringing out and to the fore—the implications of Fontanean écriture. Tracing all of the paths and detours taken by the philosopher’s poetic hermeneutics would exceed the endeavor at hand. A heuristic synopsis of certain insinuations may yield methodical waymarks. Seeing that “falling silent […] is a product of cultural discipline” (Vor allem 61; trans. dsm), Blumenberg accentuates Fontane’s rightly “refined technique of sparing oneself” (Vor allem 164; trans. dsm; plus 25), “of abortive deepening, of halting” (Vor allem 10–11; trans. dsm); his “decency”, “holding back” (Vor allem 83; trans. dsm), and “tactfully withholding, what he does not ‘see’” (Vor allem 115; trans. dsm); as well as a general proclivity for “laconism” (Vor allem 168; trans. dsm), “understatement” (Vor allem 148; trans. dsm), and “measured imprecision” (Vor allem 157; trans. dsm).237

|| 470). Citing Unwiederbringlich as an exception, Jolles perceives “wie zurückhaltend Fontane sonst in der Schilderung erotischer […] Beziehungen […] ist” (“Irrweg” 208). See Hart Nibbrig (128). B. Plett observes “die aussparende Andeutung und die andeutende Aussparung in den ‘Intimitäten-Kapiteln’” (197). As in erotic, so in political matters: “Hier ist von einem die Rede, der nicht genannt wird, im gesamten Roman nicht und doch anwesend ist” (Zimmermann 134; plus his remarks on the technique of ‘Andeutung’ via “offensichtliche[…] Aussparung”, 134; “er tadelt ihn, indem er ihn nicht erwähnt”, 135). Poetic and politic silences are complementary. With general pertinence, cf. Rohde: Fontane’s “Romanfaktur der Aussparung und Andeutung, des plaudernden Umherkreisens, das Raum lässt für Ungesagtes, Unsagbares, korrespondiert ein Ethos, das abschließende Bewertungen meidet” (293). 235 “Und warum? Nun, ich will es nicht verraten”. Cf. “Nun, ich will es lieber nicht sagen” (“Effi” 125, §15). A form of delegation withal. 236 Aust logs “de[n] besondere[n] Reiz der Fontaneschen Anspielungstechnik” (190). Likewise Böschenstein (Facetten 85; “ein System von Andeutungen”, 86; “der angedeutete Subtext”, 87). See Voss: “Fontanes wohlüberlegtes Anspielungssystem” (256; with 8). Jolles: “Fontanes feines Gespinst von Allusionen und Präfigurationen” (“Irrweg” 211). In this regard (“implies through allusion”, “in a more oblique reference”), cf. Lyon’s “closer reading” (“Disjunctive” 115, 116, 114, resp.). On ‘concealment’, “alluding”, “ellipses” in Effi Briest, Engler-Coldren (125; “refined and tactful”, 126; “to value the hidden […] behind a surface”, 135). Spec. “the reader can take pleasure in finding his way through this […] text’s allusiveness” (136; “never made explicit, […] only hinted at”, 138; with Lyon: “contains a veiled message”, “Disjunctive” 112). 237 “Verstummen […] ist ein Produkt von Kulturdisziplin” (Vor allem 61); “verfeinerte Technik der Selbstverschonung vor Unruhe und Störung” (Vor allem 164; cf. 25), “ der abbrechenden

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Another of Blumenberg’s foci is the deceptive appearance of shallowness: “during the last decade of the nineteenth century[,] small talk was introduced into German literature by […] Fontane” (Vor allem 33; trans dsm).238 Plainly, he means the artful variant, where “[e]ven semantic poverty is […] meaningful” (Vor allem 9; trans. dsm), ‘ignorance’ itself ‘significant’ (see Vor allem 59–60); and where—contingency in application—“a phrase, from which one does not expect much[,] […] may mean too much – or not more” (Vor allem 83; trans. dsm).239 For instance, it might be a “chrysalized religious colloquy” (Vor allem || Vertiefungen, des Zögerns” (Vor allem 10–11). “Zurückhaltung […] Dezenz” (Vor allem 83). “Fontane verschweigt taktvoll, was er nicht ‘sieht’” (Vor allem 115). “Lakonik” (Vor allem 168). “Untertreibung war nicht Selbstverachtung“ (Vor allem 148); “dosierte Ungenauigkeit” (Vor allem 157, plus 156). Cf. “Man wollte untertreiben” (Vor allem 148). As Pfeiffer noted during his Portland talk (Oct 5, 2019), “half-told narratives abound in Effi Briest”. Cf. Strech (140); Craig: “Distanz […] Ironie […] Zurückhaltung” (252). Nürnberger: “des Märkers […] Understatement” (“Epigramm.” 93; with: “nicht ohne Raffinesse”, 94—performatively). Lyon/Tucker: “Fontane is widely recognized as an author of understatement, restraint, and resignation” (7). Pace Rohde, “Resignation” is precisely not tantamount to “fatalistische[m] Pessimismus” (260; as his own remarks on “‘Hülfskonstruktionen’” will evince, 271–272, 271n., 280). Cf. subch. 4.4. 238 “Der small talk ist von […] Fontane […] in die deutsche Literatur eingeführt worden”. Contrast Auerbach (Mimesis [1982]. 421; 482); for an apt reassessment of the latter, Preisendanz (“Vorwort” VIII–IX). Cf. Waszynski (“subtile Inszenierungen”, “Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 14; with 21–22); von Graevenitz (640), noting “Schrecken, die in den Falten des small talk […] lauern” (647). See his ch. on ‘the discreet charm of the terrible’ (638–703, spec. 684). D’Aprile stressed this aspect (“Oberfläche des small talk”, “Dauergeplauder ersetzt Handlungsarmut”—spec. as qualified by “scheinbar unbedeutend”) during his talk (GSA congress; Oct 4, 2019). Contrast Berman (Rise 150–151). Precisely so as to see its expected “Dissolution of Meaning” (Rise 134– 160, here 134; cf. “End of Realism” 361–362), criticistic tendentiousness appears to display a tendency to bypass the subtle, latent. A later article by Berman may be read as an attempt at autocorrection (“Digression” passim). On the aforesaid phenomenon’s abysmal potentials, see Passavant—spec. as to the “sophisticated strategy of spreading rumors”; the “subversive policy of gossip […] expedit[ing] and undermin[ing] society talk” (58; and passim). Tucker logs that “superficial banter” could “turn out to be remarkably prescient” (80). See Tatlock’s formula: “hidden in plain sight” (during her talk at the GSA congress, Oct 5, 2019; with 207). Cf. von Graevenitz: “gleichzeitig versteckt[…] und doch ganz offensichtlich[…]” (684; plus 673); Mecklenburg (“indirekt”, “ebenso offen wie verhüllend”, 252; “Formen der Indirektheit”, “ein feines Spiel”, 230). Cf. “Fontanes […] poetisches Verfahren […] ist durch Verschweigen und Andeuten gekennzeichnet” (Zimmermann 132). Both function to maintain the latent ‘presence’ of a given matter (cf. 135; 138; and Mecklenburg 200). Grevel logs a “Spannung zwischen dem Gesagten und dem ‘Verschwiegenen’” (plus “Assoziationsdynamik”, 64). See Hart Nibbrig’s ch. “Nichtssagendes Reden und vielsagendes Schweigen” (120–133, here 120; “sich zu äußern und zugleich sich zu verschweigen”, 122); spec. as to “Deckrede. Was im Reden weggeschwiegen wird, kann die Hauptsache sein” (121). “Öffentlichkeit ist […] sein bestes Versteck” (133). 239 “Sogar Bedeutungsarmut ist […] bedeutsam” (Vor allem 9). ‘Signifikante Ignoranz’ (Vor

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10; trans. dsm).240 At any rate, it would be prudent to look past the surface, and “expect great [things] from its”—and his—“abysses” (Vor allem 9; trans. dsm).241 The writers at issue may be described as seeming ‘superficial—due to depth’ (see Nietzsche “Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 352, Vorrede.4; emphasis removed; trans. dsm).242 As it plainly takes one to know the like, it will be ever needful to peruse Blumenberg himself ‘hellhörig’.243 His poetic hermeneutics call for a respective— and more, a clairaudient—reader.

|| allem 59; cf. 60). “Das ist noch eine Phrase, der man nicht viel zutraut. Sie kann zuviel bedeuten – oder nicht mehr” (Vor allem 83). In the segment under scrutiny herein, Fontane observes (in passing, a particular context, but mayhap metapoetically): “So schlicht und unbedeutend das klingt, so hat es doch seine Bedeutung” (GBA V.5. 327). 240 “Wenn das kein verlarvtes Religionsgespräch ist”. Cf. Descartes (“Cogitationes” 190–193, de re). See Blumenberg: “Unanfechtbare Wahrheiten gebe es überhaupt nicht, läßt er wissen, um hinzuzufügen, was nicht leicht einer riskiert hätte: … und wenn es welche gibt, so sind sie langweilig. Langeweile war, wovor Fontane sich fürchtete wie vor kaum etwas sonst; und zu seinem Credo gehört, die Wahrheit würde uns langweilen, sobald wir sie hätten” (Vor allem 11– 12; with 133; Die nackte Wahrheit 17; Fontane Stechlin 10, §1; Rohde 247, 247n.). “Tatsachen […] sind nicht nur nackt und brutal; sie sind dazu noch einsilbig, nüchtern und langweilig” (Blumenberg Vor allem 133). “Das Immerwahre als das Destillat des Nichtssagenden” (Vor allem 36). Cf. Fontane: “‘Ach, die Wahrheit? Glaube mir, Judith, die Welt bleibt ewig in der alten Pilatusfrage stecken’” (“Petöfy” 170, §31)—with a subtle pointe in that quasi imperative (‘crede’). Tucker cited said passage during his talk at the GSA congress on Oct 5, 2019. In an affine respect, see Jolles (“Irrweg” 215; 218); and Mittenzwei, as to Fontane’s “all dem zugrunde liegende Haltung” (“Spielraum” 326): “Das letzte Wort ist, daß ein letztes Wort nicht erlaubt ist” (“Spielraum” 327; cf. Nürnberger “Mommsen” 125n.). This refers to the prosaist’s ‘ceterum censeo’ in a notable letter to his daughter: “Uebrigens – und dies sei mein letztes Wort in dieser unliebsamen Affaire – verwahr ich mich dagegen, in Vorgesagtem einen letzten Richterspruch gesprochen haben zu wollen” (Briefe II. 44, §244, of July 13, 1882; with Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 326). On Fontane’s skepticism, see H. Mann (176n., as to §60); Strech (139–160); Naumann (16); Müller-Seidel (475); Mittenzwei (“Spielraum” 318–319). Contrast Czucka (passim). 241 “Man erwartet Großes von seinen Abgründen”. With Fontane (Stechlin 7–9, §1); Naumann: “sie alle heißen wie der See” (21, plus context); also Czucka (31); Böschenstein (Facetten 475). Regarding an affine genre, cf. Nürnberger (spec. “die zugrunde liegende Vorstellungswelt”, “die Spitze eines Eisbergs”, “Epigramm.” 88; passim, spec. “doppelbödige”, 93). See von Graevenitz: “Oberflächen stehen […] in komplizierten Verhältnissen zu dem, was vor, hinter oder unter ihnen liegt” (726; with 730). Con- or involution is performatively described by B. Plett: “Die scheinbare Verhüllung enthüllt die in der literarischen Anspielung versteckte Allusion als beredte Umschreibung des Verschwiegenen” (197; cf. “chiffrierten […] verhüllen im vielsagend Indirekten […] ‘vielverschweigend’”). 242 “oberflächlich — a u s T i e f e !” (“Wissenschaft [KSA 3]” 352, Vorrede.4). See Blumenberg (Die nackte Wahrheit 25). 243 With respect to Fontane, Betz accentuates that “gerade eine solche subtile Erzählkunst literarisch gebildete […] Leser voraus[‘setzt’]” (274).

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11.3.4 Fontanean Samples of Subtle Écriture (By Recourse to “Fünf Schlösser”—With an Excursus on Effi Briest) Aber es läßt sich auch anders ansehn[.] —Fontane (Briefe 1890–1898. 254)244

The present writer cultivates a poetics of the en passant. While much may seem so, little (if aught) actually is ‘incidental’. Remarks by the way not infrequently turn out to host the main train of thought: ‘demises might ensue in asides’.245

|| 244 “Yet it may also be looked at otherwise [resp. ‘viewed differently’]” (Briefe 1890–1898. 254, letter of May 22, 1893, §267; trans. dsm). Cf. Mittenzwei: “‘Aber es läßt sich auch anders ansehn’ – […] dieser Fontanesche Kardinal[…]satz” (“Spielraum” 325; with 326); a “Notwendigkeit, Nuancierungen anzubringen, denn ‘es läßt sich auch anders sehen’” (“Spielraum” 326). For the affinity to skepticism, see Fontane’s self-characterization (in a letter to his father of 1856): “Wie mir es immer geht wenn ich ein Urtheil ausgesprochen habe, so auch diesmal, – kaum steht es da, so fang’ ich an die Richtigkeit zu bezweifeln” (Briefe I. 9, §1.Nachschrift). Cf. Böschenstein (“Reality” 27; Facetten 429; see 466). A skeptical poetics will align with a “Misstrauen gegen die Festlegung durch begriffliches Denken […], wie es […] gerade Fontane kennzeichnet” (Facetten 474). Cf. “allem Systematischen ein Schnippchen schlagend” (Fontane Briefe 1879–1889. 211, in a letter of Oct 10, 1882, §200; plus Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 314). The Ruppinian cultivates an écriture in utramque partem vel in plures (subch. 8.4). With respect to the latter and Montaigne, Strech aptly observes: “‘Et audiatur altera pars!’ könnte der Wahlspruch beider lauten” (139). Cf. Waszynski (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 25); and Mittenzwei’s accent on “‘Spielraum’” qua “Raum für Gedankenspiel, für das Ausspielen eines Aspekts gegen den anderen” (“Spielraum” 321). In Fontane, Th. Mann sees “[einen] ungebundenen und auf nichts eingeschworenen Geist[…], der alle Dinge in seinem Leben von mindestens zwei Seiten gesehen hat” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 50; with 52; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 17; 19); “eigentlich könne er immer geradesogut das Gegenteil sagen” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 53; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 20). Similarly Mittenzwei: “‘Und wirklich, die Dinge machen es nicht, sondern unsre Stellung dazu’ – diese Devise durchzieht, mit allen Konsequenzen, Fontanes […] Werk”—“diese Offenheit für die Vielfalt stets möglicher Aspekte einer Sache, eines Themas” (“Spielraum” 318; with Fontane Briefe 1879–1889. 87, letter of June 25, 1880, §82). “Schattierungen, Nuancierungen […], das Für und Wider”; “Haltung des ‘sowohl – als auch’, des ‘zwar – und doch’” (Mittenzwei “Spielraum” 325). “Polyperspektivismus” (Böschenstein Facetten 469); “polyperspektivische Darstellungstechnik” (Grevel 60); “feinmaschiges Netz aus vielfältigen Ansichten” (Hart Nibbrig 120); “stets relativ, vorläufig, perspektivisch” (Rohde 245). The latter logs: “Fontanes multiperspektivische Konversationsprosa […] ist im Kern plural und widersprüchlich verfasst” (246; with 282). As to the affine aspect of polysemy, Böschenstein notes a “bewusste ‘Finesse’”: “die Bedeutung ist sehr schillernd” (Facetten 87; plus 85; “Das Prägnante […], die Potenz, […] vielfach verwendbar”, 461; “oszilliert”, 466; “im Detail unterlaufen”, 468; “in mehreren Facetten”, 470); “kann im Gegensinn verstanden werden” (Facetten 89). 245 “Untergänge […] können in Nebensätzen stattfinden” (Blumenberg Vor allem 67; cf. 65). Voss (265); Zimmermann (134); von Graevenitz (684); Waszynski (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 25–26).

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In “Fünf Schlösser”, Fontane devotes a fourth part to manor “Liebenberg”, treating the current proprietors in the fifth subsegment (GBA V.5. 307–329). Its focus is on the life and deeds of Count Eulenburg, notably as General Wrangel’s aide-de-camp (GBA V.5. 310).246 This martial connection yields a kairós for staging several yarns involving the illustrious Prussian Field Marshal.247 So as to add altercations sans Eulenburg, Fontane dryly remarks: “Usually […] the Adjutant was merely [an] eye and earwitness of what occurred” (GBA V.5. 312; trans. dsm)—an audiovisual signal for readerly clairaudience.248 The last runs as follows. For a whole day, Wrangel ‘confines to quarters a young officer on account of wearing spurs contrary to regulations’; when the latter objects that his superior’s are equally not in order, the ‘quick-witted’ Field Marshal replies: “Well, my son. Then you may straightway serve my 24 hours, as well” (GBA V.5. 313; trans. dsm).249 In a sense, one might reasonably read this as the Wrangelian version of the notorious (Neo-)Latin dictum ‘quod licet Iovi non licet bovi’.250 While untidiness || 246 See a letter to von Rohr (of Dec 1, 1880; Briefe 1879–1889. 114, §108; Dichter 12.I. 779). 247 “insonderheit aus den Wrangeltagen des Grafen” (GBA V.5. 311). The eds. gloss: “Anekdoten um Wrangel […] hatten Fontane seit langem interessiert” (GBA V.5. 602n.). On “‘Wrangeliana’”, see various letters to Eulenburg of Nov, Dec, 1880 (Dichter 12.I. 774–778; here 774). Dissatisfied with other modes, Fontane characteristically advocates this poetic policy: “je derber […], desto delikater” (Dichter 12.I. 778, in a letter of Dec 7, 1880). In the section at issue, one is dealing with ethopoiíai (as a matter of artful course). Treated by Blumenberg poeticohermeneutically, he refers to another yarn (see Vor allem 102–103; spec. 103; Gerade 87–88; Selbstverständnis [1997] 173–174; Begriffe 32–33). To tentatively limn the workings of Fontane’s subtlety, the philosopher’s clairaudient method will be applied to two further tales. 248 “In der Regel […] war der Adjutant nur Augen- und Ohrenzeuge dessen, was vorfiel”. Qua signals for a subtle poetics, Böschenstein gives “die Umständlichkeit der Schilderung […] der dichte Verweisungszusammenhang” (“ein[…] Kreis von bild- und worthaften Assoziationen”, Facetten 88; “Spiel der Verweisungen”, 89; “leaving gaps”, “Reality” 25; cf. 24; “by hints and allusions”, 29). “Die Abstützung auf unauffällige Worte ist besonders bedeutsam für Fontanes Anspielungstechnik” (Facetten 89; withal: “beiläufige Erwähnung”, 88; see 469; and spec. “unauffällig” qua ‘Freiheit gewährend’, 474). With downright general pertinence, Mittenzwei accentuates: “alle anscheinenden Abschweifungen und Exkurse sind ebenso wichtig wie die anscheinende Hauptsache” (“Spielraum” 322). 249 Plus context: “der Alte [‘sah’], daß ein junger Offizier unvorschriftsmäßige Sporen trug, und gab ihm ohne weiteres 24 Stunden Arrest. ‘Aber Exzellenz tragen ja ebensolche’. ‘Jut, mein Sohn. Da kannst Du jleich noch 24 Stunden vor mir mit absitzen”. He is speaking in dialect. “Wrangel” had been portrayed as “spöttisch und zweideutig”, while (reciprocally) “lov[ing] quick-wittedness” (GBA V.5. 313; trans. dsm). His phrase “vor mir” (‘in my place’) hints at the vicariousness that serves Fontane qua ground swell in this segment (GBA V.5. 310–313). 250 This is indebted to Küpper’s resp. suggestion (n. on the ms. of the ch. at hand; Sept 9, 2019). The above sententia seems to be a mélange (cf. spec. Terence “Self-Tormentor” 268–269,

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must be disciplined (in a military view), another may apparently do time in one’s stead—hence be penalized for someone else’s transgression. In said situation, the severity of this notion is but latent; and habitually leaving such thus pertains precisely to the subtle craft. Less will it be so, when considering the punitive practice of ‘decimation’ (say)—not to mention one man’s dying in place of (let alone for) all.251 Beyond a specific case, the conceivability of action or castigation by proxy has universal implications of a far more chasmic nature than that (quasi) humorous incident. By way of induction, the former may be elicited from the latter even so.252 This (distinctly rhetorical) process lifts contingent instances to a plane of greater universality (the Aristotelian ‘kathólou’)—so transcending the narrow confines of historical, local (to say nothing of supposedly ‘national’) settings.253 A description of military association, counting its concomitant chances of dying due to another’s whims—hence indirectly by proxy—had already been anticipated afore.254 The five yarns relating to the General and his Adjutant open with the observation that “Eulenburg stood in special favor with Wrangel”; most wryly, Fontane adds that this was not just ‘something to take delight in’, but withal “a dangerous and not always enviable preferment” (GBA V.5. 311; trans. dsm).255 The general reason: || v.797; Seneca “Hercules” 88, v.489; Cicero De Fin. 418, V.ix.26; mayhap Ovid Metamorph. I– VIII. 118–121, II.836–875; 124–125, III.1–7; 294–295, VI.103–107). 251 See Machiavelli (Discourses 309, III.49.1–2); plus Mansfield (Modes 339–441). The related, theological handling—with its abysmal implications—might (not to say: will) come to mind. 252 As to Fontane’s habitual latencies, Pfeiffer’s methodical remark may prove functional in general: “one could unpack this” (made during his talk at the GSA congress on Oct 5, 2019). 253 Cf. Aristotle (“Poetics” 58–59, 1451a–b, IX); as well as subchs. 7.2.1, 7.3, 9.4, herein. In this respect (particular to universal), see Fontane’s metatextual comments as to his (likewise autoethopoetic) ‘characterization’ of Eulenburg’s great-grandfather (GBA V.5. 585n.–586n.; with 276–278). Generally, cf. Nürnberger (“Epigramm.” 99; 102n.); Küpper (Cultural Net 13; 38; 106; 250–255; 268); Lyon: “Fontane was keenly aware of international developments and integrated them, however subtly, into his literary works” (“Disjunctive” 104; plus: “carefully and subtly diagnosed”, 118). Contrast Berman (“End of Realism” passim; spec. 346, 349). For an incisive analysis of the conceptual inapplicability, scholarly unsoundness, and notional kénosis of Romanticist, nationalistic attempts at denying a shared humanity and transcultural capacities, see Küpper (Cultural Net passim; “National Lit.?” passim; “Nationalliteratur” passim). 254 Cf. “Wie bei den voraufgehenden Gefechten, so war Graf E. auch mit vor Düppel, und hatte (worin er einem speziellen Befehle des Generalfeldmarschalls Folge leistete) den Sturm auf Schanze IV in der westfälischen Sturmkolonne des Obersten von Buddenbrock mitzumachen” (GBA V.5. 310). The ed. apparatus stresses that the Prussian conquest of these Danish fortifications was attained to “unter beträchtlichen Verlusten” (GBA V.5. 601n.). 255 “Es läßt sich unschwer erkennen, daß Graf Philipp Eulenburg in besonderer Gunst bei

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For it does seem indeed that the old Field Marshal had set out to end his soldierly life in a soldierly way[;] and that[,] during the entire Danish campaign[,] he was waiting with a sort of joyfulness for a Danish bullet. Nothing was thus more homely to him than riding around with his adjutants and orderly officers within firing range of the enemy, but preferably around redoubts and fortifications[;] and[,] as to the question ‘why’[,][…] to reply […]: ‘the old man will be shot dead’[.] (GBA V.5. 311; trans. dsm)256

Fontane’s urbane oikonomía, linguistic finesse are more than equal to Wrangel’s “bon sens” (GBA V.5. 311), “Courtoisie”, and “sang-froid” (GBA V.5. 344).257

|| Wrangel stand. Aber so gewiß dies einerseits etwas Erfreuliches war, so war es doch andererseits ein gefährlicher und nicht immer beneidenswerter Vorzug” (GBA V.5. 311). 256 “Es scheint nämlich in der Tat, daß der alte Feldmarschall sich vorgesetzt hatte, sein soldatisches Leben auch soldatisch zu beschließen und daß er während der ganzen dänischen Campagne mit einer Art von Freudigkeit auf eine dänische Kugel wartete. Nichts war ihm daher anheimelnder, als mit seinen Adjutanten und Ordonnanzoffizieren im Schußbereiche des Feindes, am liebsten aber um Schanzen und Festungswerke herumzureiten und auf die Frage nach dem ‘Warum’ […] zu replizieren […]: ‘der alte Mann wird totgeschossen’” (GBA V.5. 311). The latter having a finalistic ring to it (this being part of, if not the, point), said laconism could also be taken as a conclusive statement, hence read: “is” killed. The most peculiar adjective utilized in this segment reoccurs shortly after—applied to the quasi “Medieval English ‘hall’” of manor Liebenberg (GBA V.5. 315; trans. dsm, ‘hall’ in the source). By contrast to the typical condition of said comparative case, it is described as something like a ‘family living room’ (“gemeinschaftliche[s] Wohnzimmer”), wherein “everything often” takes place “at the same time”—providing it with a “warm ambiance […] true coziness”: it is said “to have been given a lightsome [‘heiteres’] and homely [‘anheimelndes’] appearance”; inter alia, by virtue of a considerable “library” (GBA V.5. 315; trans. dsm; cf. “etwas Anheimelndes”, Stechlin 84, §7, with context; and von Graevenitz 678). See the n. below. 257 Regarding the hunting château “Dreilinden”, Fontane records as the first entry under “Kriegserinnerungen” an “Eisenteller mit einer Vierpfünder-Kugel darauf. Umschrift: ‘Der erste Salutschuß an Sie, mein Prinz [sc. ‘Friedrich Karl’ of Prussia]”—a dictum ascribed to the Field Marshal, made as ‘said cannonball had struck right beside them, while coordinating a charge’; the writer’s note: “echt-wrangelsch, ebensoviel Courtoisie wie sang-froid” (GBA V.5. 344). At times, Wrangel’s ‘comity’ may seem comical (if not caustic). In a letter to Eulenburg, Fontane states his ethopoetic requisites: “mir [‘erscheint’] für ein Charakterbild als erstes Erfordernis ‘Unverfrorenheit’ notwendig” (GBA V.5. 584n.). See Müller-Seidel (9). Voss observes “Fontanes Urbanität” (7). For the rhetorical concept, cf. Lausberg (Elemente 35, §69; 61, §116.5; Handbuch 142, §257.2a; 278, §540.3.5). In a letter of July 14, 1887, Fontane puts these words into his own mouth: “wer hat jetzt Lust und Fähigkeit, […] auf die tausend Finessen zu achten”—which he integrated (Briefe 1879–1889. 551, §521; Dichter 12.II. 363). See Voss (7; “mit bemerkenswertem Raffinement”, 10; “Verfahrensweise […] in zunehmender Verfeinerung”, 253; “Höchst raffiniert”, 255); Böschenstein (“zur äußersten Subtilität verfeinert”, Facetten 60); Craig (229). Mecklenburg logs “die Fontaneschen ‘Finessen’, die feinen Unterschiede der sprachlichen […] Gestaltung” (183). Cf. Howe: “His realism is increasingly subtle, oblique, restrained, […] literary in its allusiveness, its use of sub-texts and codifications – the ‘thousand finesses’ of which

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Probably, “in der Tat” could be taken literally indeed; “sich” is factually inclusive of others; “mit einer Art von Freudigkeit” hints at a hardiness mayhap prefixable by ‘fool’—while the pleasure (“am liebsten”) appears to have been his exclusively (needless to say); the negated (“Nichts”) comparative, functioning qua superlative, employs a word (“anheimelnder”) that just barely conceals the irony (as the initial “nämlich”, in hindsight); so that, ultimately, one will likely not be dealing with a case of ‘seeming’ at all (“Es scheint”, GBA V.5. 311).258 As worded by Kablitz: “it pertains to the peculiarities of irony that one may easily miss it” (Allegorie 46; trans. dsm).259 Yet another elusive phenomenon germane to the genus subtile—and said anecdote might be a prime example.260 Formally, the fact that the above yarn’s repetitions occur with variation (“alte”, “soldatisch”, ‘dänisch’, the internal rhyme “um”, ‘herum’, “Warum”)— semantically, the comparative “anheimelnder” (GBA V.5. 311)—suggest a ‘settled disposition’ that will hardly count as a ‘virtue’ even in military milieus.261 Not only is the Field Marshal ‘nowhere more at home than’ in places where a lethal contingency may strike at any second; but precisely and only for this reason (rather than with regard to martial expediency) is he there—nor alone.262

|| Fontane himself speaks” (7). Betz: “Eine Welt voll Finessen geht einem erst allmählich auf” (264; see 262). Hence: “Wir müssen alle Nuancen genau betrachten” (Anderson 157). 258 Shortly afterward, that tolerably peculiar adjective (“anheimelndes”) is applied to manor Liebenberg’s ‘family living room’—whose “coziness” is partly due to the “Aufstellung” of “12000 volumes” (GBA V.5. 315; trans. dsm; cf. “etwas Anheimelndes”, Stechlin 84, §7, with context; and von Graevenitz 678). Fontane’s wryness does have a certain severity, here. The use of said numeral—plus the also military term “Aufstellung”—reinforces the link with what Wrangel seems to deem ‘homely’: the ‘dying room’ of the frontline. As Kablitz observes in general: “Ironie […] ist allein kontextindiziert” (Allegorie 46)—likely also implying ‘induziert’. 259 With this qualification: “Die Ironie verlangt einen Sinn für die Erkennung einer Störung, die nicht evident ist” (Allegorie 46). Both remarks will be key to an expedient hermeneutics of Fontane’s subtilitas—whose écriture largely pertains to said rhetorical genus. With general suitability, Kontulainen suggests inquiry into “how” one might “approach something that is not there” (during the discussion after Lyon’s talk at the Portland GSA congress; Oct 6, 2019). 260 Cf. Lyon: “Irony pervades […] Fontane’s novels”; this “narrative stance” serves as a device of “distance”, “allow[ing] him to assume contradictory positions” (“Disjunctive” 116; an “ironic stance highlights […] without valorizing”, 118; cf. 119). Zimmermann (133); Naumann (16; 25n.). 261 By contrast, Aristotle (NE 68–69, 1103a, I.xiii.20; 94–95, 1107a, II.vi.15; 364–365, 1143b, VI.xii.1). See this metapoetic remark: “ich habe das Menschliche betont, […] bin an Schwächen, Sonderbarkeiten und selbst Ridikülismen nicht vorbeigegangen. […] D[e]s protestantische[n] Volk[es] […] Lieblingsfiguren: Friedrich Wilhelm I. […], Wrangel, […] Bismarck sind nach einer bestimmten Seite hin, und oft nach mehr als einer Seite hin, sehr angreifbar gewesen. Der Hinweis [dar]auf […] hat aber noch keinem von ihnen geschadet” (Fontane Dichter 12.II. 150). 262 As regards the rhetorical question—“what would be more contingent than a death on the

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En passant, it might as well be one of his ‘aides-de-camp’—hence surrogates, and not “the old man”—who happen to be “shot dead”.263 Concerning chance and otherwiseness at the plane of content or plot, a brief excursus on Fontane’s most eminent novel may seem advantageous, here.264 Not incidentally, the latter’s turning point (if not climax) is located right after the middle of its twenty-sixth chapter—which generates the (ultimately) disastrous developments of the twenty-seventh (see “Effi” 232–242, §26–27).265 A possible, perhaps not even improbable, but otherwise sheerly contingent accident (in terms of time, place, accompanying effects)—the daughter’s unruly airs, infelicitous stumble, and resultant laceration during a staircase race with her maid (against the latter’s will)—causes a chain of reactions that precipitate her absent mother’s (societal) fall; and eventually occasion Effi’s demise.266

|| battlefield”—Küpper logs that one is here dealing with an “ironic turn” (or ‘reversal’): “seeking out contingency does not work out” (n. on the ms. of the ch. at hand; Feb 12, 2020; trans. dsm). 263 A later report gives just such a scenario: an “Adjutant des Prinzen” is ‘mortally wounded’; “the prince”—and his “horse”—but ‘slightly’ (“Das Pferd […] wurde zu Tode gepflegt”, GBA V.5. 345; trans. dsm). Said case also colors Wrangel’s alternative ‘reply’ (which the writer deems “sarcastic”): “‘why, my son, if you prefer to ride home, so ride home’” (GBA V.5. 311; trans. dsm). Generally, see Blumenberg (in a problematic context: Selbstverständnis [1997] 84). 264 These reflections are prompted by Küpper’s remark that, in general, “contingency is […] primarily a category of the world of action [‘Handlungswelt’]”; that spec. “Fontane’s texts are replete therewith – at the plane of the plot [‘Handlungsebene’], directly or indirectly” (n. to the ms. of the subch. at hand; Feb 12, 2020; trans. dsm). The above reading focuses on a decisive instance in Effi Briest (pars pro toto). Via structural mise en abyme (as well as foreshadowing), Fontane places the novel’s fundamental dynamics into the mouth of its heroine: “ich soll wiederkommen, und es ist sogar verabredet, daß ich spätestens in einer Woche wieder in Kessin bin. Aber ich könnte doch auch nicht wiederkommen. […] welche tausend Möglichkeiten es gibt … […] auch Junge können sterben. Und dann so vieles andre noch” (“Effi” 192, §22). A narrative description of contingency: something (planned) may be else; or not (occur) at all. 265 Only seemingly in passing, Fontane’s choice of words (“Es war an einem Mittwoch […] Jetzt war Mittag”) subtly insinuates a certain significance; in hindsight, an alert reader will also recall the (potentially polysemous) employment of “fallenden” between these two mentions of ‘middleness’ (“Effi” 232, §26)—nominally prefiguring what is to follow. 266 “‘Nun laß sehen’, sagte Annie, ‘wer am ehesten von uns die Treppe heraufkommt’. Roswitha wollte von diesem Wettlauf nichts wissen, aber Annie jagte voran, geriet, oben angekommen, ins Stolpern und fiel dabei so unglücklich, daß sie mit der Stirn auf den dicht an der Treppe befindlichen Abkratzer aufschlug und stark blutete” (“Effi” 232–233, §26). Bearing in mind Fontane’s poetics of the en passant, it will hardly be incidental that the daughter falls exactly when she already appears to have reached the goal of her game (“oben angekommen”). For this parallels her mother’s case rather precisely—believing herself safe from detection after having moved from Kessin (the location of her adulterous affair) to Berlin. Regarding the role of

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Agitated by the overall situation, Annie’s injury, the attendants (in haste and vain) try to find something to dress the wound; and—by chance, though no less fatefully—remember the mother’s bandage, tailored after having twisted her ankle (while walking on an icy surface the previous winter).267 Plausibly (but mistakenly), it is assumed to be in Effi’s sewing table—the lock of which just so happens to be easy to break.268 Failing to locate the gauze, Roswitha impulsively empties out all of its contents—among which is a small parcel of letters that (for no ‘good’ reason) the adulteress had kept rather than destroyed.269 Coincidentally, it is precisely the diligent husband—not (as would else seem likely) one of the servants—who takes it upon himself to conscientiously reorder

|| contingency in the scene at issue, see Küpper—spec. as to the late reversal of what had initially seemed a “glücklicher Zufall” (“Moderne” 132). 267 “‘Da muß ja noch die lange Binde sein, die die gnädige Frau letzten Winter zuschnitt, als sie sich auf dem Eise den Fuß verknickt hatte…’” (“Effi” 233, §26). This season of the year will (all but) inevitably remind any (attentive) recipient of Effi’s adulterous encounter with Crampas during a brumal sleigh ride (for its preteritional climax, see “Effi” 164–165, §19). The bandage never turns up: “die zusammengerollte Binde jedoch wollte sich nicht finden lassen. […] Aber die Binde hatte man immer noch nicht” (“Effi” 233, §26; that voluntaristic verb will hardly be coincidental, considering the additional levels of discourse); “nach der gerollten Binde gesucht […]; aber sie woll’ es nun aufgeben, und lieber eine neue Leinwand schneiden” (“Effi” 234, §26); “mit so viel Eifer und doch vergebens nach dem Verbandstück gesucht” (“Effi” 235, §27). 268 “[‘]da fällt mir ein, die [‘Binde’] liegt im Nähtisch. Er wird wohl zu sein, aber das Schloß ist Spielerei; holen Sie nur das Stemmeisen, Roswitha, wir wollen den Deckel aufbrechen’” (“Effi” 233, §26). Sans need to go into details: any reader familiar with Fontane’s faible for (latently) eroticized imagery will here perceive a rather metonymical instance. Much more subtle is the (potentially) paronomastic use of the verb ‘einfallen’ (with accent on the second syllable): the notion crossing the maid’s mind conduces to the discovery of her mistress’s transgression. 269 “während sie halb ärgerlich immer weiter suchte, flog alles, was ihr dabei zu Händen kam, auf das breite Fensterbrett: Nähzeug, Nadelkissen, […] zuletzt ein kleines Konvolut von Briefen, das unter dem dritten Einsatz gelegen hatte, ganz unten, mit einem roten Seidenfaden umwickelt. Aber die Binde hatte man immer noch nicht” (“Effi” 233, §26). Cf. Th. Mann (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 45; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 12); Rohde (272). It is of note that—and how— Effi has downright marked the bundle itself: much like Hawthorne’s ‘scarlet’ (rather than Poe’s ‘purloined’) letter (heuristically: Hawthorne 31; “the faded red tape, that tied up the package”, 30, ‘The Custom-House’; 51, §2; and passim; cf. Poe “Purloined” 380, spec. “conspicuously […] carelessly […] even […] contemptuously”). As Küpper stresses, Effi’s “adultery was a banal accident [‘Zufall’], born of boredom” (“Moderne” 132; trans. dsm); the way she deals with it is not. Her imprudence is haughty. It might almost seem as if she is deliberately proud—precisely so as to fall (“es kommt doch am Ende noch an den Tag […] immer war es mein Stolz”, “Effi” 223, §24; cf. Küpper’s Freudian reading, “Moderne” 144). Even so, the fact that she does—spec. when and how (unexpectedly so)—is altogether contingent: her “tragisches Ende [‘ist’] allein bedingt […] durch einige in ihrer Banalität nicht zu überbietende Zufälle” (“Moderne” 144).

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Effi’s belongings exactly as they had been.270 Innstetten’s contingent presence (his wife’s no less accidental absence)—along with his ethos (and her conceit)— has the tell-tale correspondence fall into the ‘wrong’ hands (as it were).271 The rest is almost a matter of course.272 As Preisendanz memorably puts it: || 270 Were it not for the husband’s settled disposition—well-known to any recipient at this point in the novel—this scene should seem utterly implausible: “Innstetten [‘begann’] die zahllosen Dinge, die bunt durcheinandergewürfelt noch auf dem Fensterbrett umherlagen, wieder in den Nähtisch einzuräumen […]. Dann und wann wußte er sich nicht recht Rat und mußte fragen. ‘Wo haben die Briefe gelegen […]’ ‘Ganz zuunterst’ […] während so Frage und Antwort ging, betrachtete Innstetten etwas aufmerksamer als vorher das kleine, mit einem roten Faden zusammengebundene Paket” (“Effi” 235, §27). The peculiar location—especially stressed by the servant (“Ganz zuunterst”)—and Effi’s threadbare color code (“roten”), whet the husband’s attention. Yet the detection of her transgression is still contingent, even at this advanced point in time and the series of coincidences: “Er fuhr, als wäre es ein Spiel Karten, mit dem Daumen und Zeigefinger an der Seite des Päckchens hin und einige Zeilen, eigentlich nur vereinzelte Worte, flogen dabei an seinem Auge vorüber. Von deutlichem Erkennen konnte keine Rede sein, aber es kam ihm doch so vor, als habe er die Schriftzüge schon irgendwo gesehen. Ob er nachsehen solle?” (“Effi” 235–236, §27). Innstetten’s (putative) freedom of choice is then directed by his own words—incidentally prompting a suspicious search for the illicit: “‘Johanna, Sie könnten uns den Kaffee bringen. Annie trinkt auch eine halbe Tasse. Der Doktor hats nicht verboten, und was nicht verboten ist, ist erlaubt’. Als er das sagte, wand er den roten Faden ab […]. Er erkannte jetzt auch die Handschrift” (“Effi” 236, §27). Given his jealous nature, this nominally self-induced act is the husband’s point of no return, sealing Effi’s fate—as far as the expectable causalities are concerned. Conceivably, some contingency could still interfere, even here (of course); but it does not happen to. The cuckold himself places the decisive moment somewhat later, between the discovery and his notifying of Wüllersdorf: “Vor sechs Stunden […] hatt ich das Spiel noch in der Hand, konnt ich noch das eine und noch das andere, da war noch ein Ausweg. Jetzt nicht mehr” (“Effi” 240–241, §27). 271 “In diesem Augenblicke trat Innstetten ein” (“Effi” 233, §26). Fontane reaccentuates that contingency is driving the plot by having the narrator describe the doctor’s arrival as “Ganz zufällig. Er sprach nur vor, ohne jede Ahnung, daß man nach ihm geschickt und um seinen Besuch gebeten habe” (“Effi” 235, §27). As in Aristotle (see chs. 3, 4, herein), it is the absence of design, intent that marks chance; here with the added irony that someone’s action or presence is at once called for and fortuitous (cf. Hawthorne 41, ‘The Custom-House’; cited in subch. 2.2, herein). The iterated stress on Effi’s absence being ‘fortunate’ under the circumstances (“Und doch ist es ein Glück, daß sie nicht mit dabei war”, “Effi” 233; “wenn die Mama dann kommt, dann ist alles wieder in Ordnung oder doch beinah. Ein Glück ist es aber doch, daß es noch bis nächste Woche dauert”, 234, §26) may well exceed what is usually called ‘dramatic irony’—and amount to the blackest of humors at a metapoetical plane. Such will hardly seem beyond a poet-causeur, having decided on a literal mise en scène of a most banal German idiom (‘aus dem Nähkästchen plaudern’) for the climactico-peripeteian moment of detection—which results in a dramatic (even catastrophic) reversal of several fortunes. As to Fontane’s overall écriture, Böschenstein aptly logs “the transformation of locutions into concrete images” (“Reality” 28; Facetten 430–431). Apropos what she terms “prägnante Mikrostrukturen” (qua “mit Bedeutung

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in line with the motto ‘Vive la bagatelle!’[—]obliging all humorists as per Jean Paul[—][…] Fontane […] makes the most contingent [‘zufälligste’], fleeting, incidental particulars […] the locus of what it means to be human[.] (“Macht” 304–305; trans. dsm; see 327–328)

Even (especially) the humoristic will have its dependable dose of the abysmal.273 Not unlike the anecdotal battle scene given above, the aforesaid damage is done vicariously; the decisive difference being that—by a downright fortuitous, even ‘banal’ (see Küpper “Moderne” 144, with 132) concatenation of chance events, associated causalities, infelicitous choices—Effi’s life (as well as that of her former lover) actually plunges into disaster; whereas Wrangel’s potentially ruinous levity does not lead to death by proxy (at least in said yarn).274 Withal, it would seem as though, under the buoyant surface of Fontane’s blithe, subtly charming ethopoiía of Wrangel’s spirited, almost playful persona, “Grim-visag’d War” (Shakespeare R3. 126, I.i.9)—the utter ruthlessness of (Prussian) belligerence—shows through.275

|| aufgeladene Einheiten”), said scholar notes: “Solche Formulierungen inkarnieren selbst oft formal, was sie aussagen” (Facetten 460; plus “Poetik des Kleinen”, 461; spec. also 465). 272 Effi’s juvenile blithe-, lightness (“Tochter der Luft”, “Effi” 8, §1; “Festigkeit ist nicht eben deine Spezialität”, 166, §20) passes into levity (the seducer’s epistolary words: “wir müssen es leicht nehmen […]. Leichtsinn ist das Beste, was wir haben”, “Effi” 237, §27)—whose upshots she offsets by her distinctive vanity (“Effi” 24, §3, incl. Fontane’s nominally ironic paronomasia in “Demuthschen”; “immer war es mein Stolz”, 223, §24). Her husband’s conceited jealousy (“Innstetten, der auf seine junge Frau nicht wenig eitel war”, “Effi” 147, §18; cf. 175, §20; spec. 185–186, §21) incapacitates him to overlook her “Delicta juventutis” (Ps 24:7, Vulgate; Ps 25:7, KJV). With the family physician, one might say: “‘Hier liegt etwas vor, was die Frau zwingt, so zu handeln, wie sie handelt’” (“Effi” 204, §23). Even so, matters might still have turned out otherwise (or not at all). For chance interferences can never be excluded even from what would else seem an unavoidable chain of reactions—as Küpper signals concerning another figuration of contingency: “Zufall, würde man also sagen, genauso gut hätte bei dem Duell von Innstetten sterben können” (“Moderne” 145). As to the above, see Marquard’s incidentally insinuating the nexus of ‘contingency’ and ‘légèreté’ in Kundera’s resp. novel (at Skepsis 68). 273 Cf. Th. Mann’s artful correlations: “Humor und verschlagene Weisheit” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 37; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 1); “diese[…] Kreuzung aus Luzifer und Clown” (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 43; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 9). 274 See Küpper: “Daß […] andere[…] Frauen […] ein weniger trauriges Ende als Effi nehmen, ist […] allein begründet in dem völlig kontingenten Zuhandensein oder Nicht-Zuhandensein dieser oder jener banaler Umstände” (“Moderne” 144). 275 Cf. Lyon, de re: “the entertaining appeal of rhetoric somehow veils this violence” (Crafting 171). The above is indebted to Küpper’s remark that—“under the ‘sympathetic’ surface”—said passage “implies the whole brutality of Pruss[ian] militarism”; he stresses the “stylization of Wrangel’s bonhomie”, “sweeping others to [their] death” with “complete casual[ness]” (n. on the ms. of the subch. at hand; Sept 9, 2019; trans. dsm). Nürnberger logs: “General Wrangel […]

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Whether one is dealing with Effi’s covert superbia or the General’s latent ira, a writer in the genus subtile (only) insinuates—leaving (or tacitly delegating) any eliciting of conceivable implications to clairaudient recipients.276 As always, matters may be ‘viewed differently’—or fail to be perceived at all.277 If noblesse oblige, contingency implicates: “The narrator ultimately makes the reader [his] accomplice” (Küpper “Fiacre” 261; trans. dsm).278

|| ist der Vollstrecker der Gegenrevolution” (“Epigramm.” 98). In his ethopoeia for Liebenberg’s prior owner (Hertefeld), Fontane appreciates a decided aversion to inhumane warmongering: “jedesmal empört er sich, wenn er wahrnimmt, wie wieder einmal hier oder dort, aus bloßer Machthaberlaune, mit […] Menschenleben gespielt worden ist” (GBA V.5. 278; as to the writer’s stance, 587n.–588n.; cf. a significative 1882 letter to his wife: Dichter 12.I. 782; Briefe I. 173, §99; one of 1876 to von Rohr, Dichter 12.II. 647; and Blumenberg’s referring to the “von ihm niemals ganz absorbierte[…] Preußentum”, Gerade 102; Vor allem 121). See spec. Th. Mann (“Der alte Fontane [1968]” 52–55; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 19–23). For “Fontane’s bold indictment of […] militarism”, see Bade (passim; here 84, with 97); Lyon/Tucker (8), who distinguish: “Fontane […] longs to be acknowledged by traditional Prussia, much as he may despise it” (1). Cf. Lyon (“Disjunctive” 112); Müller-Seidel (7, plus 486n.; 43–48); Wende (157). H. Mann’s indicating Fontane’s “herbe[n] Realismus” (175n., re §60) may seem spec. pertinent in the present context. 276 Delegating expressly pertains to Fontane’s poetics. He states “daß ich, in den intrikaten Situationen, der Phantasie des Lesers viel überlasse” (Briefe 1890–1898. 508, letter of Nov 24, 1895, §537; thereto, see B. Plett 197; “der Imagination des Lesers überlassen”, Böschenstein Facetten 470; “Denkanstoß”, 473; with 474). Complementarily, the recipients are being ‘spared’ the appresentation of certain virtualities (cf. “wird dem Leser erspart”, Zimmermann 138). As to delegation, see the latter (131; 140); Hart Nibbrig (“Sache des Lesers”, “Appellcharakter”, 120); B. Plett (324–325; “delegiert”, “dem Leser überlassen”, 325); Mecklenburg (“Durchdenken […] an den Leser weitergeben”, 188); Craig: “Die Beantwortung dieser Fragen überläßt Fontane dem Leser” (252; with 224, 253; the context is problematic; see Wende 157). 277 Cf. “es läßt sich auch anders ansehn” (Briefe 1890–1898. 254); cited qua motto above. 278 On a technique of implied delegation, see Böschenstein: “So steht das […] da, gänzlich unkommentiert, und diese Enthaltung von aller Stellungnahme kann […] ein ‘Inzitament’ zu […] Reflexionen sein” (Facetten 468; “lets his readers participate”, 421; “Charakter des Stimulierenden”, 474; cf. “Reality” 22). See also Mecklenburg: “Indem […] Fontane an seinen Figuren [etwas] durchspielt, […] verstrickt er auch den Leser in dieses Spiel” (226; infinitized; cf. “hermeneutische[r] Balanceakt”, 231; “Mitspielerrolle”, 242). On the complicity of recipients, see Thomas: “Fontane draws on the reader’s capacity to make associations” (216; with 228). Cf. Voss’ suggestive formula: “Anziehungskraft durch […] Anspielung” (265). As to “Fontanes Zitierkunst” (13), she logs a certain ‘encryption’, which (inter)actively ‘involves’ the recipients (“weitgehend verschlüsselt”, “ein bestimmtes Déjà-vu-Erlebnis [wird] aus[ge]löst”, 14; “der Leser wird involviert, die […] erweckten Assoziationen lösen wieder weitere Reflexionsketten aus”, 252). Schmauks stresses “Vorzeichen, mit denen Fontane […] dem aufmerksamen Leser verschlüsselte Hinweise […] anbietet” (44; cf. 47; “verschweigt […] rückblickend erschließen”, 48). Such poetico-hermeneutic delegation is also focal with respect to the delicate écriture of Montaigne’s Essais—another master of the subtle. On their affinity, see Strech’s lucid sýnkrisis

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11.3.5 The Clairaudience of Poetic Hermeneutics ‘Du hörst zu fein’. —Fontane (“Schach” 71, §8)279

As intimated above, Blumenberg proves himself such a collaborator. His acute essays evince the effectual interplay of reading and writing—the hermeneutic potential of a poetic approach to a grand craftsman of subtle German prose. Adapting a Senecan remark in view of his epistolary interlocutor (and selves), one might suggest that Fontane also has his “words under control” (Ep. 1–65. 411, LIX.4); likewise “say[s] all that” he “wish[es]”—while “mean[ing] still more than” he “say[s]” (Ep. 1–65. 413, LIX.5).280 Such dexterity and artful concealment downright exemplify the subtle style—as well as a recipient experienced in perusing, hermeneutically unveiling, poetically ‘chrysalizing’ it.

|| (139–160). Likewise Mittenzwei (“gleiche Grundhaltung”, “Spielraum” 319; with 320–321, 323; and Fontane Briefe 1890–1898. 376, letter of Aug 1, 1894, §379); also Goetschel (117; plus 129n.– 130n.); Doebeling (xvii; xx); Görner (briefly, 11). Cf. Th. Mann’s decisive nuance (“er war nicht […] Zyniker genug”, “Der alte Fontane [1968]” 54; “Der alte Fontane [1973]” 22). As far as the perspective taking sedimented in his novel’s ethopoiíai is concerned, the writer is likely to have been sufficiently ‘cynical’—at least vicariously. Pertinently, Voss discerns “daß […] frivoles Zitieren auch Fontanes eigene Sache ist. Überdies ist unverkennbar, daß [er] […] nicht ohne Vergnügen zuhört und das gleiche auch von seinen Lesern erwartet” (117; referring to: Fontane “Cécile” 317, §6). Accentuating “the subtle conversational politics” in Schach von Wuthenow, Bowman observes the novel’s “innuendo and cynicism” (53; cf. “cynical amorality”, “ironic and irreverent”, “a distinctly heartless edge”, 52; “malignant cynicism”, “civilised lubricity”, “risqué exchanges”, 53; “outdo one another as irreverent humorists”, “speaking cynically and reductively”, 54; “reducing everything”, “cynical-humorous references”, 55). Fontane’s “fiction shows an acute interest in […] subtle […] shifts of position in the continual battle for […] recognition amongst speakers” (54); the critic’s value judgments cum grano salis. 279 Fontane being a virtuoso of subtlety ‘with a difference’, context will be key: “‘Ich meinte, daß ich den Wagen gehört hätte’. ‘Du hörst zu fein’. Aber sie schüttelte den Kopf, und im selben Augenblick fuhr der Wagen […] vor” (“Schach” 70–71, §8). Not all things being of a muchness, reader discretion may tend to seem advisable. See this most “subtle” ruse: “Mais certes ils font ma finesse trop fine” (Montaigne Essais III. 22, III.i; cf. Essays 603, III.1). 280 “habes verba in potestate”—qua source of ‘(aural) delight’: “audi, quid me in epistula tua delectaverit” (Ep. 1–65. 410–411, LIX.4). The context: “pressa sunt omnia et rei aptata. Loqueris quantum vis et plus significas quam loqueris” (Ep. 1–65. 412, LIX.5; cf. Montaigne Essais III. 132, III.v; and Eden “Montaigne on Style” 386; 395). The (theoretical) nexus of the epistolary with the genus subtile is Ancient: see Trimpi (Plain Style passim); Eden (Rediscovery 2, 77). As to Fontane, von Graevenitz logs: “die Gespräche […] meinen und zeigen […] mehr und anderes, als sie beim ersten Hören oder Lesen sagen” (682).

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Appearing on the same page in a seminal article on Küpper’s part, a most felicitous linguistic contingency in Portuguese—the similarity with a (soundly slight) difference between “discrição” and “descrição” (“modernidade” 202)— may serve the heuristic purpose of highlighting a performative affinity. For this paronomastic proximity simultaneously brings out a semantico-conceptual and discursive aspect, rendering said (phonetic) nexus a quasi mise en abyme of Fontane’s poetics—‘the discretion of his description(s)’; and Küpper further logs their “allusive”, “suggestive” (“Fiacre” 262; trans. dsm), “nuanced” (“Fiacre” 263; trans. dsm), “implicit” (“modernidade” 203; trans. dsm) character.281 A subtle écriture will call for recipients capable of clairaudience. Perused attentively, Blumenberg’s poetico-hermeneutic essais on Fontane may well yield a series of methodical signposts along a respective reader’s way.282

|| 281 On the semantic (added) value of the poetic function, see Kablitz (Kunst 57–62, spec. 59– 60). Cf. Küpper’s qualifications of Fontane’s subtle “écriture”: “eine Tendenz zu größerer Zurückhaltung”; “der eher suggerierende als explizitierende Gestus” (“Moderne” 127, 127n.); “eine diskrete praeteritio” (“Moderne” 129); “diskreter formuliert”; “ohne daß dies explizit gemacht würde”; “Non-Explizität” (“Moderne” 131); “unter der Oberfläche” (“modernidade” 198); “la transparence sémiotique de ce qui reste implicite” (“Fiacre” 260–261; “structures de signification secondaires”, 261; “não […] articulada”, “carácter implícito”, “modernidade” 203). “Fontane opère […] de manière cohérente avec la technique […] allusi[ve]”—leaving certain issues “dans un clair-obscur tout à fait suggestif” (“Fiacre” 262; see “alles im Halblicht”, Fontane “Effi” 30, §4). Delicate matters are “formulado com […] discrição” (“modernidade” 202)—“présentée de manière, disons, nuancée” (the hedging being performative; “Fiacre” 263). 282 Cf. Waszynski, seeking “eine in Blumenbergs Texten mitlesbare Lektürebewegung” (“Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 16). As Amslinger’s simultaneously figurative and literal formulation might insinuate, what is “wegweisend” may well appear “randständig” prima facie (202; spec. with 217). In other words: precisely a lateral optics will provide (for) one’s bearings.

12 Blumenberg’s Fauna Contingency qua Condition of Possibility for Essais of Perspective Taking (Proceeding from Husserl’s Concept of ‘Appresentation’) There were no tigers. That was the point. —T. S. Eliot (“Cocktail” 353, I.i)1 Wenn die Löwen malen könnten, wären ihre Jäger die Gejagten. —Blumenberg (Löwen 9)2

What lions were for Blumenberg, tigers were for Borges.3 In a longer poem, the poet conceives of—dreams and conjures up, as well as meditates on—various representatives of said species.4 There are not just second, or third, but manyhanded versions—mediated (for instance) via the books and depictions in the speaker’s “vasta Biblioteca” (“El otro tigre” 116, I.2).5 By contrast, the ‘veritable tiger’ (“tigre […] verdadero”, 116, II.10–11)—qua “criatura / Viviente” (“living creature”, 118–119, II.17–18)—is “the other tiger, the one not in this poem” (“El otro tigre, el que no está en el verso”, 118–119, III.10).6 Yet it is present ex negativo—in the very fact of its necessary absence. Seeing that such is neither deemed sufficient nor what had been pursued, ‘Borges’ speaks of ‘seeking a third one’ (“Un tercer tigre buscaremos”, 118, III.1).

|| 1 There is a hypólepsis: “You’ve missed the point completely, […] I said there were no tigers” (“Cocktail” 353, I.i). “You were shooting tigers? / […] There are no tigers” (“Cocktail” 427, III). 2 “If lions could paint, their hunters would be the hunted” (trans. dsm). Diels/Kranz record a comparable dictum by Xenophanes (Vorsokratiker I. 132–133, 21B15, via Clement of Alexandria). 3 For his leonine affinities, see a posthumous collection of essais on Blumenberg’s part (Löwen passim; spec. “daß eine Welt ohne Löwen trostlos wäre”, 77). As to the cosmopolite’s penchant for tigers, cf. e.g. the companion piece “Dreamtigers” (Poems 74–75; as well as “El oro de los tigres”, 338; and spec. “Mi último tigre”, which commences: “En mi vida siempre hubo tigres”, 462). Tongue-in-cheekily, Borges accentuates that the choice of animal is precisely a matter of taste: “Se preguntará muy razonablemente ¿por qué tigres y no leopardos o jaguares? Sólo puedo contestar que las manchas me desagradan y no las rayas. Si yo escribiera leopardo en lugar de tigre el lector intuiría inmediatamente que estoy mintiendo” (Poems 462). 4 “Pienso en un tigre” (“El otro tigre” 116, I.1); “te sigo y sueño, / Oh tigre” (116, I.20–21); “reflexiono” (116, II.1); “una forma / De mi sueño” (118, III.2–3). Apart from the title and motto, the poem has three stanzas of uneven length (21, 18, 10 verses; the line count is added for the reader’s convenience). Both versions published in the 2019 anniversary ed. appear to partition the same text into two stanzas (see “otro tigre [2019]” 128–129; El hacedor 97–99). 5 “Es un tigre de símbolos y sombras, / Una serie de tropos literarios / Y de memorias de la enciclopedia” (116, II.3–5); “de los símbolos” (116, II.10); “de las mitologías” (118, III.5). 6 In similar words—but another sense—see Jakobson on T.S. Eliot (“Linguistics” 92); cf. above. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-012

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This variant is his (her, its) own—the animal constructed by a speaker in the act of crafting the poem.7 As in a dream, the mind makes it factual—an experience shared by all mammals, as far as is assessable.8 Recipients perusing the poem meet with yet another mediated predator— never a veritable one (since such an encounter would terminate the reading, one way or another): “many [matters] that[,] qua real[,] could not yield pleasure, can indeed do so[,] in the play of fancy” (Freud “Dichter [Werke VII]” 214; trans. dsm).9 Only when choosing to set pen to paper will they have a—meaning, each their own—tiger; and not be subject to another’s (let alone being eaten by one).10 || 7 “Éste / Será como los otros una forma / De mi sueño, un sistema de palabras / Humanas y no el tigre vertebrado” (“El otro tigre” 118, III.1–4). The stress falls on “Éste” (not: ‘aquel’), “mi”. 8 If unable (or reluctant) to perceive this firsthand (e.g. by observing a dog in the act of oneiric chasing), one might turn to Lucretius: “quippe videbis equos fortis, cum membra iacebunt, / in somnis sudare tamen spirareque semper / et quasi de palma summas contendere viris, / aut quasi carceribus patefactis rumpere sese. / venantumque canes in molli saepe quiete / iactant crura tamen subito vocesque repente / mittunt et crebro redducunt naribus auras, / ut vestigia si teneant inventa ferarum, / expergefactique sequuntur inania saepe / cervorum simulacra, fugae quasi dedita cernant, / donec discussis redeant erroribus ad se. / at consueta domi catulorum blanda propago / discutere et corpus de terra corripere instant / proinde quasi ignotas facies atque ora tuantur” (352–354, 4.987–999, and v.1004). Or Montaigne, who cites the aforesaid, and comments: “the Rome and Paris that I have in my soul, the Paris that I imagine, I imagine and conceive it without size and without place, without stone, without plaster, and without wood—this same privilege, I say, seems very evidently to belong to the beasts. For a horse accustomed to trumpets, harquebus fire, and battles, whom we see tremble and quiver in his sleep, stretched out on his litter, as if he were in the fray: it is certain that in his soul he conceives a drum beat that has no sound, an army that has no weapons or body […][.] That hare that a greyhound imagines in a dream, after which we see him pant in his sleep, stretch out his tail, wriggle his legs, and reproduce perfectly the motions of running, is a hare without fur or bones […][.] The watchdogs that we often see growl in their sleep, and then bark outright and wake up with a start, as if they saw some stranger coming—this stranger that their soul sees is a bodiless and imperceptible man, without dimension, without color, and without being” (Essays 354–355, II.12; plus Essais II. 223–224, II.xii). Cf. Küpper (“Medical” 114). 9 Even should someone frivolous enough come up with the idea of taking the Borgesian poem to a zoological garden (cf. Poems 74–74; with the crucial twist in the tail at 462–463), in order to partake of a predator’s captive plight from a safe (though hardly good) distance, the salient point remains: looking at the pages, one will not see the tiger, and vice versa. In general, one typically cannot have one’s tiger, and not be eaten by it. Before deeming oneself the inevitable exception to this rule, one might consult whether the ‘liberation’ and ‘conclusion’ (Dan 6:20, 6:22; Vulgate) is susceptible of ‘therian’ variation (surely not to mention reptiles: the number of seraphim being limited, snake pits are not likely to be covered, whence they should be so kept). 10 Cf. the significative paronomasía of “persevero”, “verso” (“El otro tigre” 118, III.8 and v.10). This seems to have seduced Reid into untenably trans. “indefinida” as “perverse” (118–119, III.7). The poem’s first word is “Pienso” (116, I.1); almost at its center, an alliterative line ends

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If not poetically inclined, a respective reader may vicariously partake of the Borgesian speaker’s attempt at “adopt[ing] the perspective of the tiger”—“as far as possible” (Böschenstein Facetten 413).11 All expectable, skeptico-nominalistic caveats notwithstanding, this delegated act of proxyship may yield a significant degree of verisimilitude.12 Effected rhetorically—by a density of references especially to the oldest of senses—this momentaneous evidentia might display a tendency of virtually aligning the human with other animals. While differing in range, a capacity for scenting is common to all (healthy) mammals: Él irá por su selva y su mañana […] Y husmeará en el trenzado laberinto De los olores el olor del alba Y el olor deleitable del venado[.] (“El otro tigre” 116, I.5 and I.11–13)13

Noting an (indubitably) shared ‘olfacticity’, the present point is precisely not the (poetically envisioned) predator’s spatial ‘remoteness’; but its actually being rather ‘close to home’, as a quasi like-minded lifeform at the kathólou level— meaning, with a similar sensorium, to which almost anyone might relate.14

|| in “verso” (116, II.2, with “vocativo”); the last is “verso”, again (118, III.10). Poetic ‘evocation’ is a safely distanced (meaning, verbal) form of ‘perseverance’. Textured threads and intricacies can only be insinuated, here. The conjured labyrinth of words merits reiterated scrutiny. 11 With a succinct take on the cosmopolite’s poem, said scholar opens her article concerning Fontane and the problematic concept of ‘realism’ (cf. its previous printing, “Reality” 15). 12 The provisos: “cuyo nombre ignora / (En su mundo no hay nombres[)]” (“El otro tigre” 116, I.7–8); “el tigre vocativo de mi verso / Es un tigre de símbolos y sombras, / Una serie de tropos literarios” (116, II.2–4); “tigre de los símbolos” (116, II.10); “el hecho de nombrarlo / Y de conjeturar su circunstancia / Lo hace ficción del arte” (116–118, II.15–17); “un sistema de palabras / Humanas y no el tigre vertebrado” (118, III.3–4). Insistence effects a sort of presence. 13 “it will prowl through its jungle and its morning / […] / and sniff out in the woven labyrinth / of smells the smell peculiar to morning / and the scent on the air of deer, delectable” (“El otro tigre” 117). The verbs describing this tiger’s action are in the future tense: “irá”, “marcará”, “salvará”, “husmeará” (116, I.5–6, 10–11). This aligns with the speaker’s “presiento” (116, I.15). 14 It is by virtue of “arte” (“El otro tigre” 118, II.17) that the speaker proceeds from a random, particular exemplar (“El que”, 116, II.12) to the universal (“de las que andan por la tierra”, 118, II.18); nor is the presence of a ‘plus ultra’ incidental (“más allá”, 118, III.5). Due to his own sensorial capacities (incl. the reasonably anticipating, as much as the oneiric), the speaker of the first stanza deems spatial distance irrelevant: “Entre las rayas del bambú descifro / Sus rayas y presiento la osatura / Baja la piel espléndida que vibra. / En vano se interponen los convexos / Mares y los desiertos del planeta; / Desde esta casa de un remoto puerto / De

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Grounded in a capacity for conceiving and conveying the contingency of their concerns, human beings seem to have a special faculty—even facility—of tentatively, provisionally adopting other viewpoints; nor only with(out) respect to conspecifics.15 Yet the saber-toothed—or their (still current) descendants—do not paint cavernous walls; nor write poems. They live in their immediacy only.16 Should this be so, the virtual ability to think in terms of otherwiseness—of abstracting from a momentaneous stance and angle—will be an (if not the one) distinctive characteristic of that (occasionally) rational animal, as has swerved from nature’s presentist course.17 Whether cháris or curse, most any human lifeform is potentially capacitated to conceive of—and convey—the chance, view, or fact that matters may be else, or not at all.18 This ability marks the condition of possibility not only for each and all variants of visible culture (such as the products of the arts and sciences); but likewise for the highest noetic refinement thinkable: the competence for provisionally seeing things from another’s point of view.19

|| América del Sur, te sigo y sueño, / Oh tigre de las márgenes del Ganges” (“El otro tigre” 116, I.14–21; see the interplay with “Me impone”, 118, III.7). 15 Cf. Blumenberg: “Der Mensch ist ein extremer Standpunktwechsler” (Beschreibung 879). “So ist der Mensch das Wesen, das sich auf einen anderen Standpunkt versetzen kann“ (Beschreibung 849). See subchs. 5.2.1, 10.4, 12.1, 13.5, herein. 16 As far as is assessable. “(En su mundo no hay nombres ni pasado / Ni porvenir, sólo un instante cierto.)” (“El otro tigre” 116, I.8–9). Otherwise the case of man: “Der Zukunftssinn ist unserer ‘Ausstattung’ mitgegeben, und er beschäftigt die Erinnerung oft quälender als den Geist, der seine Pläne schmiedet” (M. Meyer 211). 17 Cf. Schaeffer: “the human species seems to be the only one to have developed an aptitude to produce and to ‘consume’ […] fictional representations” (Why Fiction? xvi; with 36). 18 As a matter of skeptical course, doubting will be permissible even in this veritable respect: “if it is true that he [sc. ‘man’] alone of all the animals has this freedom of imagination and this unruliness in thought that represents to him what is, what is not, what he wants, the false and the true, it is an advantage that is sold him very dear, and in which he has little cause to glory, for from it springs the principal source of the ills that oppress him: sin, disease, irresolution, confusion, despair” (Montaigne Essays 336, II.12; with Essais II. 189–190, II.xii). Cf. the case of the stage dog, “play[ing] dead for a while”, then “stir[ring] very gently, as if he had come out of a deep sleep” (Essays 340, II.12; plus Essais II. 196–197, II.xii). The segment on animals in the Apologie de Raimond Sebond is pertinent, here (Essays 330–358, II.12; Essais II. 178–230, II.xii). 19 “Daß wir gelernt haben, uns anstelle des anderen zu denken” may be considered the “Bedingung aller Humanität” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 610).

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12.1 Against Neo-Romanticism Even sans environmentalist airs it must be stated that a world without lions would be desolate. —Blumenberg (Löwen 77; trans. dsm)20

This preemptive remark is made in a set of essais as also tenders the artful consolation—for the likely case that human animals will proceed with their wonted devastations. The sheer possibility of a de-lionized world—horribile cogitatu for the speaker—is prevented by crafting auxiliary virtualities: fictions, descriptions, musings, meditations, et caetera. As Emily Dickinson did not say: To craft savannahs one will need A lion and a tree, as well As reverie—the latter might Suffice, should lions be extinct.21

Variations on a given (or absent) theme may yield a like effect, functioning as a form of compensation.22 Qua matter of virtual fact, rather freely semioticized (narratively embedded) leones roam Blumenberg’s papered wilds at a respective reader’s will—noetically ‘(re)populating his essayistic world’.23 Hardly will it be necessary to stress that there can be no reasonable grounds for co-opting this philosopher for the symptomatically ‘endearing’ discourse of

|| 20 “Auch ohne naturschützerische Gebärde muß gesagt werden, daß eine Welt ohne Löwen trostlos wäre” (Löwen 77). The resp. animal will be susceptible to (harmless) variation. 21 The inimitable source: “To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, / One clover, and a bee, / And revery. / The revery alone will do, / If bees are few” (Dickinson 632, §1779, v.1–5). Cf. Freud (“Dichter [Werke VII]” 219; 222); with Küpper (“Uti and frui” S143; generally: S152–S154). 22 Absence (resp. presence ex negativo) appears to be a conceptual leitmotif in Blumenberg’s collection. See these essayistic titles: “Das Abwesende am Löwen” (Löwen 19; cf. 37, 90). “Eine der Abwesenheitsarten der Löwen” (Löwen 30). “Der abwesende Löwe” (Löwen 38). “Das wieder abwesende Denken am Löwen” (Löwen 50). “Abwesenheit des Löwen” (Löwen 60). “Rettung des abwesenden Löwen” (Löwen 63). “Späte Folgen abwesender Löwen” (Löwen 70). “Das Abwesende am Seelöwen” (Löwen 72). “Die Abwesenheit des Löwen für den Elefanten” (Löwen 89). Above all: “Die Anwesenheit des Löwen – so als wäre er abwesend” (Löwen 81). 23 The context of Shakespeare’s line—“thoughts people this little world” (R2. 461, V.v.9)—may seem related to the further course of this argument. For Richard’s soliloquy uses the technique of adopting other viewpoints in a dramatico-virtual manner: “Thus play I in one person many people” (R2. 463, V.v.31). Cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 123n.). For a similar figuration in an affine context, see Waszynski (“bevölkern”: “Lebenswelt-Lektüre” 16). Metapoetically, the noeticoverbal shifting of one’s stance and angle—a capacity potentially within the reach (if not grasp) of human beings—may represent a (if not the) condition of possibility for narrative texts also.

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Animal Studies (soi-disant)—meaning, to the degree that the latter is manifestly overwhelmed and ideologically underwashed, hence refrains from proceeding descriptively.24 As Kablitz most pertinently observes (in a related context): “the zealous display of philanthropy”—mutatis mutandis, of theriophily—“is a rather transparent coverup for conceptual cluelessness” (Kunst 27n.; trans. dsm). Naturally, the very sakeliness characteristic of sober scholarship does have a considerably high price: one may well not come to see—and so show—what one might have wished to perceive or convey. Yet otherworldly proclivities will not be the measure. Nor need such desires prevent a pragmatic approach. Equitably speaking, the moralism rampant in the aforesaid circles would have found no favor with Blumenberg. The materially misguided attempts at misappropriating him for the air-treading trade of the Frankfurt School’s selfstyled heirs—frequently foundering on factual grounds (failures feebly offset by vehemence)—might have served as a timely warning.25 Were it not for the petit détail that supreme degrees of counterfactual obduracy amount to a bill of entry to such coteries—along with the conforming requirement to be checking one’s polyvalent capacity for contingency at the mouth of their hollow.26 Unless ignored, Blumenberg’s unequivocal statements will be ineluctable: “Morality is often only possible, because no action has taken place as yet” (Beschreibung 608; trans. dsm).27 Respectively (with a twist in the tail)—this is || 24 Blumenberg: “ich lasse […] alles als bare Romantik beiseite, was darauf hinausläuft, diesen [‘(w)issenschaft(lich) fundiert(en)’] Status unserer Wirklichkeit abschwächen, umlenken oder gar rückgängig machen zu wollen” (“Zukunft” 127). 25 Cf. H. Ritter’s acute formula: “tiefe[…] Verwirrtheit bei großer Bestimmtheit des Ausdrucks” (“Frankfurterhöhle” 240). Pricelessly precise. 26 In general, those with doctrinaire proclivities are likely to declare their own view- and standpoint as being beyond variation, hence not subject to otherwiseness. For strictly limited use, contingency may be co-opted (implicitly), so as to enable the very conceivability of their exclusivistically utopian visions (sc. nightmares). As to all else, dogmatists display a tendency to assert—not that matters may also be different (or inexistent), but—that everything must be their way, and no other. This paragraph is indebted to the exceptionally lucid article by H. Ritter (see “Frankfurterhöhle” passim), detailing the vagariously impulsive auto-kénosis typical of Ideology Critique soi-disant (certainly not to mention its latter-day epigones). “Die Kritik ist unendlich, und an ihrem Ende steht keine Substanz” (Blumenberg Realität 74; with 75). 27 “Moral ist oft nur deshalb möglich, weil noch nicht gehandelt worden ist”. Cf. “Alles andere ist Moral” (Löwen 83). Hardly will it be incidental that the essay describing the rationality of this stance seems not to have met with a sufficient (let alone sober) reception: “Ich halte es für wenig sinnvoll, von dieser Situation [sc. ‘in der zunehmend Worte für Realitäten ausgegeben werden’], um schneller zur Moral zu kommen, zu abstrahieren” (“Staatstheorie” 129; see spec. 137–138; passim). In (ever) other words: treating the philosopher and his essai to a moralizing makeover will hardly do justice to either. Contrast Nicholls (“Nothing” passim).

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another of those “lion-friendly lion hunters, who, asked how many lions he had brought down, could not but answer: none” (Löwen 30; trans. dsm).28 Precisely these latencies will be the focus of the ensuing. In all probability, virtually vicarious perspective taking is only possible where a spatial distance does obtain, so that time may well remain to perform other, less immediately necessary activities—like that of telling stories, notably of animals.29 In a generally (here also particularly) significative locus, Blumenberg logs: “Man is an extreme shifter of standpoints” (Beschreibung 879).30 Nor would the ensuing descriptive essai for said lifeform seem to be sans empirical evidence: ‘humans are animals with a potential (and occasionally actual) capacity for adopting the perspectives of others and speaking on their behalf’.31 Contingency is the condition of possibility for vicarious and delegative techniques. In a metapoetical view, diverse forms of semiotization may be described as an exemplarily functional mise en scène of the above abilities—here, specifically narratives; or affine genres. In accord with the philosopher’s habitual modus operandi, the ensuing, theoretical section (12.2) is concerned with the conditio sine qua non for such essays of noetico-virtual vicariousness. An exploratory application of this human capacity par excellence will then be tendered in the penultimate segment (12.3) of the overall chapter at hand.

|| 28 “wie de[r] löwenfreundliche[…] Löwenjäger, der auf die Frage, wieviele Löwen er schon erlegt habe, nur antworten konnte: keinen”. The yarn and its pun is taken up from Marquard (see e.g. Apologie 29; Zukunft 142). As Strech observes with respect to Montaigne and Fontane, a Skeptical—hence sober—approach to animals will consist in a “sachlichen, unsentimentalen […] Aufwertung des Tieres gegenüber dem Menschen” (142); meaning: as the case may be. 29 On ‘gaining time’ by ‘increasing distance’, cf. Blumenberg (spec. Beschreibung 560; 608; 612; Lebenszeit 282; Arbeit 23; Sachen 48; 135; Lebenswelt 155; generally, see Heidgen et al. 15). 30 “Der Mensch ist ein extremer Standpunktwechsler”. On his (as well as Fontane’s) formulae for the contingency of views, sententiae (‘always also otherwise’), cf. subchs. 5.1.2, 11.1.1, 11.3.4. 31 With respect to vicariousness, delegation, see Mayfield (Ventriloquism passim; here 2, 11n., 13n., 15n., 16n., 22n., 26n., 42, 42n., 48–49, 48n., 53, 53n., 57n., 59n., 65n., 76–77, 77n.–78n., 80–81, 81n., 86n., 90n.–91n., 92–93, 93n.–94n., 100–101, 107n., 117n.–118n., 123n., 132, 136n., 143n.–145n., 148, 150n.–153n., 156n., 158n., 161n., 162, 164n., 166n., 169n.–170n., 171, 173n.– 174n., 177, 177n., 181n., 185n.–186n., 188, 191, 192n.–193n., 194, 194n.–195n.). Blumenberg’s œuvre is interspersed with sundry samples of what he calls “‘Definitionsessays’” (Beschreibung 511; plus 512–516). Cf. ch. 5 (spec. 5.2.1), herein. A particularly pertinent variant in the present context may be this: “Der Mensch ist das Tier, das sich andere Tiere hält” (Löwen 89). The philosopher also takes up and ties in with other attempts; e.g. “Der Mensch ist das tauschende Tier” (Beschreibung 512, see 512n.; Simmel Philosophie des Geldes 385; incl. a series of further attempts, which Blumenberg partly adopts; cf. 265).

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12.2 A Metapoetical Perspective on ‘Appresentation’ (Husserl with Blumenberg) From the body’s surface to the inside[:] […] an immeasurable leap. Even so, precisely this leap is constantly performed by man, he cannot let it be. —Blumenberg with Lichtenberg (Beschreibung 309; trans. dsm)32

Proceeding inductively with respect to human culture, one will probably come across vicarious phenomena on all sides—however these might be described or conceptualized: ‘perceiving something from another’s vantage point’; ‘putting oneself in somebody’s position, into someone else’s shoes’; ‘perspective taking’; ‘empathy’, even; and such or similar words, phrases (to say nothing of that putative ‘Einfühlung’, supposed ‘fellow feeling’). Ultimately, a certain exchange of thoughts and opinions may well be seen as pertaining thereto, inasmuch as (but also if no more than) a minimum of reciprocal reception has taken place. In all likelihood, a large count of affine cases from most diverse conceptual traditions could be added to Blumenberg’s above comment on Lichtenberg. At least empirically, this might seem to inconvenience such as would object to the fact that one is indeed dealing with a phenomenon distinctive for the lifeform in question: ‘humans are perspective taking and shifting animals’. Not least, this capacity will be reflected—or find expression—in narratives; notably such as tentatively (noetically, verbally, in writing) adopt the viewpoint of other beings (counting nonexistent ones). Not only things may be otherwise. Yet no matter which alter one meets, chooses to visualize, or even construe ex nihilo—this will still hold good: “Knowledge of another, this [is] the bottom line, remains hypothetical” (Beschreibung 315; trans. dsm; see 175, 275).33 It is sheerly unfeasible to access the immediacy of another’s ‘interior’ directly. To

|| 32 “Von der Oberfläche des Leibes zum Innern […] ein unermeßlicher Sprung. Dennoch, genau diesen Sprung tut der Mensch ständig, er kann ihn nicht lassen”. The (italicized) reference is to Lichtenberg: “Was für ein unermeßlicher Sprung von der Oberfläche des Leibes zum Innern” (“Physiognomik” 258). His purpose being: “Ich wollte […] zeigen, daß man […] nicht vom Leib auf ein Wesen schließen könne, dessen Verbindungsart mit ihm uns unbekannt ist, und überhaupt nicht auf den Menschen schließen kann; auf diese Welt von Chamäleonism mit Freiheit; auf das Tier, das selbst den Galgen auf der Stirne Lügen strafen und Leidenschaften ermorden könnte, so gut wie sich selbst, wenn es wollte; das von Ehr- oder Geldgeiz oder Liebe angeflammt, alles vermag” (“Physiognomik” 258). For applications, see ch. 6 (6.6.1.1), herein. 33 “Fremderkenntnis, dies das Fazit, bleibt Hypothese”. Blumenberg accentuates that “fast alles, was wir überhaupt wissen, die Bedingtheit der Hypothese hat. Die Stärke der Hypothese kann nur in ihrer Konkurrenzfähigkeit mit anderen Hypothesen liegen. Sie macht jedes Wissenschaftssystem […] pluralistisch – und das auch mit der Philosophie” (Beschreibung 161).

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the (decidedly limited) extent that the latter might be approached provisionally, only the indirect route—via one’s ‘own’—may seem serviceable, to some degree. In this very respect, recourse to a particular philosophical discipline will be indispensable—not least, since “[s]omething like a theory of other-perception, which could even merely bear comparison with Husserl’s, has never existed” (Beschreibung 247; trans. dsm).34 In consequence thereof, commencing with the arch-Phenomenologist cannot but seem plausible. Even so, it will be needful to make methodical adjustments as to the context at hand. For one, previously precise, potentially significative terms have been emptied of meaning by excessive and impertinent use in philosophical or affine discourses: “even concepts have died a miserable death” (Nietzsche KSA 11. 654, 40[51]; trans. dsm).35 Withal, Husserl’s Idealistico-deductive cloud-treading (his Platonizing, Cartesianizing) is simply sans relevance to a descriptive approach— and must be ‘reduced’, as far as possible: “without any transcendental ballast” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 157; trans. dsm).36 || 34 “So etwas wie eine Theorie der Fremdwahrnehmung, die mit der Husserls auch nur in Vergleich gesetzt werden könnte, hat es nie gegeben”. On the perception and experience of others, Blumenberg notes: “Fremdwahrnehmung” is “der von Husserl durch den Mechanismus der Appräsentation […] dargestellte Vorgang, in einem wahrgenommenen Körper den Leib eines [A]nderen […] anzunehmen”; “Fremderfahrung” is “alles, was zur Charakteristik dieses [A]nderen […] als eines nicht bloß durch seine Art […] bestimmten […] gehört” (Beschreibung 312)—a distinction that does not seem to be applied consistently. In general, it might be added: the first will probably apply to all lifeforms, the latter only to certain animals. By way of conjecture, it may seem likely that humans are able to establish relations with other mammals especially (a potentiality that does not necessitate implementations). With particular regard to “Fremderfahrung im […] zwischenmenschlichen […] Sinne”, Blumenberg logs the “Vorteile […], die in möglichen Assoziationen liegen […]. Sozial[…] ist der Mensch nur, weil er seinesgleichen nicht artspezifisch festlegt. Das aber tut die von Husserl eingeführte und beschriebene Appräsentation” (Beschreibung 273). While possible, such limitation is not needful. There are those who ‘(pre)determine’ all cats or dogs ‘species-specifically’ (due to prior inconveniences with certain particulars, e.g.). Yet such would not even be dreamt of by a human animal having lived with the above (and precisely not on moralizing—or literally ‘touchy-feely’—grounds). 35 “auch Begriffe sind eines elendigen Todes gestorben”. As will be the case with any entity ever revered by men, resurrections could hardly be excluded—here, post mortem conceptorum; or rather, after their having been pronounced dead. 36 In methodical respects, this hypólepsis of Husserl is not just accidentally ‘unorthodox’— whatever the unnegated variant might be, since a de dicto is the resp. source text’s exclusively; while any reception will, eo ipso, be a ‘variation’ (albeit to differing degrees of ‘freeness’). In this view, the Phenomenological tool of ‘reduction’ requires being applied—first, foremost—to Husserl’s own (Platonizing, logifying, Cartesianizing, subjectifying) conceptualizations, legacy issues, in order to cleanse his diligent, hence characteristically reasonable, lucid descriptions from those ubiquitous Idealisms, Deductivities, Transcendentalisms. To all appearances, such

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Being contingent, the former’s doctrinaire systematism will be subject to ‘free variation’—just like any other datum.37 The present effort expressly being nothing more than a phenomenistic experiment of thought, the defenders of said Discipline’s orthodoxy need not feel offended (none such being intended). ‘In following the founder, one does not follow the founder’.38 Fortunately, it would seem that Husserl’s concept of ‘appresentation’ has escaped the fate of ill and overuse (so far, at least). Based on the (conceivable) contingency of one’s current position, this pertinent technique encompasses noetico-virtually substitutive comportment almost of necessity. For where the complementary confirmation of a supposed back or inside is not (or no longer) possible, a compensatory process occurs quasi inevitably.39 This may well be a

|| quarantining (via citational parentheses, praeteritiones) and economizing does not cause a loss of significance; nor impede the understanding—on the contrary. This textual processing ties in with Blumenberg’s reception of Phenomenology—spec. with his call to advance “ohne jeden transzendentalen Ballast” (Beschreibung 157; trans. dsm; likewise: “Nur kein transzendentales Geschwätz”, Wittgenstein Geheime 76n.; letter of Jan 16, 1918). More incisively still: one “avoids such extramundane nonsense” (“vermeidet solchen extramundanen Unfug”, Blumenberg Beschreibung 767; trans. dsm). Cf. “Er hat uns, […] unabhängig von seiner schulmäßigen Terminologie, eine Sprache […] zur Verfügung gestellt, mit der sich arbeiten läßt” (Phänomen. 12). Noted with respect to Kant, this applies to the arch-Phenomenologist, as well. Generally: “Husserls Rhetorik ist idealistisch; und darin geht sie weiter, als es ‘die Sachen’ erfordern” (Lebenszeit 46). Cf. subch. 5.2, herein. On the whole, Zambon aptly accentuates: “Blumenbergs Phänomenologie erweist sich […] als ständige Arbeit an der Husserls” (Nachleuchten 21). 37 M. Sommer stresses “die Anwendung der freien Variation nicht nur in der Phänomenologie, sondern auch auf die Phänomenologie” (Evidenz 9; plus 101, 190). Cf. subch. 5.2.3, herein. 38 See Strauss (Thoughts 119; with 115); Mansfield (Virtue 85; 262); Mayfield (Artful 186). 39 Typically, the process of appresentation will relate to corporeal perception, which might shift from the visual to the tactile as a result. Qua theoretically universal, hence transferrable technique—and even in its spec. Phenomenological function—it tends to operate in virtuality. For this reason, it may seem permissible (noetically, in practice) to apply said procedure to a realm of sheer potentiality, seeing that this is its usual field of employment. Since particular— comprising entirely simulated—appresentations are linguistically rendered, they might also be narrativized. In the course of such processes, it may seem possible to virtually, anticipatorily, provisionally, tentatively assume an alter’s factually inaccessible interior as if ‘given’—despite the complete impossibility of a complementary presentation at any point in time or space. Such actually happens continually in everyday life: an inside is hypothesized, precisely as a result of having appresented an exterior. Moreover, the term in question denotes a ‘rendering present’, hence points to virtuality even taxonomically. In accord therewith, the precise or spec. make of a resp. counterpart (e.g. from a scientific angle) will be immaterial. A simple corporeality or corresponding conceivability will suffice for a potential process of ‘analogization’: this, that, or anything may well be taking place in the other, which the one appresenting happens to be

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conditio sine qua non for any thinkable textualization of the vicariousness generally constitutive of human culture (potentially no less than actually).40 Metapoetically speaking, diégesis involving others—polypersonal mímesis even more so—entails taking the perspectives (tentatively, the positions) of some counterpart, respectively its (actual, potential) experiences.41 Structurally, this technique may be applied to virtually all lifeforms; and—thought or sense permitting—to any envisioned or imagined entity, as well. Things that are not— might also be otherwise; inexistence is subject to contingency. The basic question—to which Husserl found the answer ‘appresentation’— concerns ‘how, starting from or with myself, I may arrive at others’—“who[,] qua others[,] are precisely not actually in me, but of whom I am merely aware” (Meditationen [2012] 90, V.42; trans. dsm).42 In accord therewith, it is virtuality

|| familiar with (from previous experiences, endured vicariously or else). In said respect, it will be negligible, whether a human animal is encountering its (apparent) like, or another. 40 Cf. “Kultur ist delegierte Selbsterhaltung” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 223). The above is articulated in Husserl with respect to reciprocity: “Der ‘Andere’ verweist […] auf mich […], der Andere ist […] Analogon meiner selbst” (Meditationen [2012] 94, V.44); “die Anderen erfahre ich, […] als wirklich seiende, in wandelbaren […] Erfahrungsmannigfaltigkeiten […] mit Leibern eigenartig verflochten […] sind sie ‘in’ der Welt. Andererseits erfahre ich sie zugleich […] als diese Welt erfahrend […] und als dabei auch mich erfahrend, mich, als wie ich sie und darin die Anderen erfahre. So kann ich, nach dieser Richtung fortschreitend, noch vielerlei noematisch auslegen” (Meditationen [2012] 91, V.43). This opens up said experiences for free variation. The reciprocity described involves all forms of life: the counterparts (potentially) come across need not be human. Then again, there will also be animals that never encounter—or are not even experienceable—to one another, as their environments have no (else hardly any) intersections. Comparably, Husserl later stresses an inductively perceivable reciprocity concerning héxeis; hence spec. regarding “Zusammenhänge und […] Verlaufsformen, die für mich verständlich sein können durch assoziative Anhalte an meinem eigenen, in seiner ungefähren Typik mir empirisch vertrauten Lebensstil. Dabei wirkt auch jedes gelungene Einverstehen in den Anderen als neue Assoziationen und neue Verständnismöglichkeiten eröffnend; wie […] umgekehrt, da jede paarende Assoziation wechselseitig ist” (Meditationen [2012] 119, V.54). Sequential reciprocity and projection are mutually dependent. Husserl formulates it thus: “die Möglichkeit von […]Akten, die durch das Medium der appräsentierenden Fremderfahrung in das andere […] hineinreichen” (Meditationen [2012] 131, V.58). Aptly, Blumenberg accentuates: “Husserl hat […] Appräsentation noch darin gesehen, daß der Eigenleib in aller erdenklichen Dingwahrnehmung und Weltwahrnehmung projektiv sich dargestellt findet” (Beschreibung 828). 41 Narrative (verbal, written, etc.) forms are peculiar types of perspective taking, in that other lifeforms (potentially, things) are (always already) given in virtuality ‘only’. On the whole, Blumenberg observes: “Appräsentation […] ist die[—]vor aller theatralischen Ausübungsform liegende[—]elementare Fähigkeit, überhaupt ‘darzustellen’” (Beschreibung 148). 42 “wie ich aus m[ir] […] zu anderen […] komme, die doch als andere nicht wirklich in mir, sondern in mir nur bewußte sind” (Meditationen [2012] 90, V.42). Cf. “Das Problem […] des

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as provides the starting point for this fifth “Meditation”—dealing with alterity and the external (see Meditationen [2012] 89–150, V.42–62).43 “Experience of others [‘Fremderfahrung’] qua ‘Appresentation’ (analogical apperception)” is primarily treated in §50 (Meditationen [2012] 108–111, V.50; here: 108; trans. dsm), but lingers as a basso ostinato (especially in the titles of §52, §54, Meditationen [2012] 113; 117; and passim).44 Habitually, the arch-Phenomenologist will proceed from (vivid) perception itself: in the act of ‘experiencing’, “the other is […] ‘corporeally’ present before us” (Meditationen [2012] 108, V.50; trans. dsm).45 Blumenberg elucidates:

|| ‘Für-mich-da’ der Anderen […] als Thema einer […] Theorie der Fremderfahrung” (Meditationen [2012] 92, V.43); “daß ich, der ich bin, eines anderen bewußt werden kann, das ich nicht bin (eines mir Fremden)” (Meditationen [2012] 104, V.48). Initially and primarily, discerning the condition of possibility will be vital: “Halten wir uns an die faktische, also jederzeit zustande kommende Fremderfahrung” (Meditationen [2012] 120, V.55)—“wie kann sie überhaupt zustandekommen?” (Meditationen [2012] 121, V.55). Proceeding inductively, from (everyday) experience, Husserl observes—“In der natürlichen Einstellung der Weltlichkeit finde ich unterschieden und in der Form des Gegenüber: mich und die Anderen” (Meditationen [2012] 93, V.44). Factual meetings, encountering, even clashing is the basic situation (iteratively given, hence conceivable in variation): “schon die Möglichkeit vagsten […] Vermeinens von Fremdem ist problematisch […]. Das Faktum der Erfahrung von Fremdem […] liegt vor als Erfahrung […] einer […] Welt und darunter von Anderen” (Meditationen [2012] 105, V.48). This (not value judgmental) set of ‘problems’ is to be understood qua incitement to its description. An(y) alter becomes approachable (provisionally intelligible, virtually accessible) via one’s ‘own’: “Ich […] bin also konstituiert als Glied der ‘Welt’, mit dem mannigfaltigen ‘Außer-mir’, aber ich selbst […] konstituiere das alles” (Meditationen [2012] 98, V.44). “Innerhalb und mit den Mitteln dieses Eigenen konstituiert es […] die […] Welt, als Universum eines ihm fremden […], und in erster Stufe das Fremde des Modus Alter” (Meditationen [2012] 100, V.45). 43 Virtuality is constitutive; also when abstracting from factual encounters via ‘free variation’: “Von der Abblendung des Fremden wird nicht betroffen […] mein welterfahrendes Leben, also nicht meine wirklichen und möglichen Erfahrungen von Fremdem” (Meditationen [2012] 98, V.44). “Sowie wir die […] Leistungen […] der Fremderfahrung außer Betracht halten, haben wir eine […] Leiblichkeit, die sich […] konstituiert […] als […] Mannigfaltigkeit von Gegenständlichkeiten möglicher Erfahrung” (Meditationen [2012] 104, V.47). Husserl stresses the nexus in—and by way of—virtuality: “von mir [E]rdachte stehen […] mit mir […] (bzw. mit mir in einer Möglichkeitsabwandlung meiner selbst) in notwendiger Gemeinschaft” (Meditationen [2012] 139, V.60). For the point of departure is auto-variation: “zunächst [‘kann ich’] mich selbst […] in freier Variation umdenken […], und so das System der Möglichkeitsabwandlungen meiner selbst gewinnen” (Meditationen [2012] 140, V.60). 44 “Fremderfahrung als ‘Appräsentation’ (analogische Apperzeption)”. On Phenomenological appresentation, cf. Blumenberg (e.g. Beschreibung 148–149; 174–175; 266; 273–274; 313–315; 799–800; 827–828; Realität 33). Select segments are discussed herein. 45 “[in] der Erfahrung ist […] der Andere […] ‘leibhaftig’ vor uns da”.

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The phenomenological representation of other-experience via ‘appresentation’ requires that one may both assume corporeal self-experience[,] and the existence of a congeneric corporeality in [one’s] field of experience. (Beschreibung 148; trans. dsm)46

In meetings, encounters, confrontations with other lifeforms (notably animals, including ostensively human ones), the respective body will be dealing with ‘a situation allocating a self to the other also—precisely via appresentation’.47 Still, ‘the alter’s own’ is not “directly accessible”; for else “he himself”— respectively she her-, or it itself—“and I myself […] would be […] one and the same” (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 108, V.50; trans. dsm).48 Contrary to marketable construals (specifically of so-called ‘empathizing’), experiences of alterity are concerned with what is not immediately accessible ever and at all.

|| 46 “Die phänomenologische Darstellung der Fremderfahrung durch ‘Appräsentation’ hat zur Voraussetzung, daß sowohl leibliche Selbsterfahrung als auch das Vorkommnis gleichartiger Leiblichkeit im Erfahrungsfeld angenommen werden dürfen”. As regards a “Theorie der Fremdwahrnehmung durch Appräsentation” (Beschreibung 299), Blumenberg offers pertinent remarks in other places: “Leiblichkeit als Ansatz der Appräsentation […][,] Weltlichkeit als […] Basis einander begegnender Leiber, also appräsentationsfähig werdender Leiblichkeit: eine Welt ist eine solche von Wahrnehmungsbedingungen, […] ohne die es Appräsentation nicht gäbe” (Beschreibung 236); “die zunächst nur durch Appräsentation gemachte Wahrnehmung, daß es meinesgleichen überhaupt gibt” (Beschreibung 271); “aus der Körperlichkeit des spezifisch Ähnlichen überzugehen in die Auch-Leiblichkeit” (Beschreibung 775). 47 “eine Situation […] des durch Appräsentation zugewiesenen Auch-Ich” (Beschreibung 301). Cf. “Bei der Analyse der […] Erstbegegnungsproblematik […] fand Schopenhauer die beiden Extremwerte […]: entweder Nicht-Ich! oder Ich noch Mal!” (Beschreibung 302; Schopenhauer “Adversaria” 628, §254; see Mayfield “Philosophical Animal” 62–69). Else, the beyond of said extremes is at least conceivable: “Rousseau negiert überhaupt die Möglichkeit ursprünglicher Fremderfahrung” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 248)—taking it to be (merely) “kulturell[…]” (Beschreibung 248; see 272, 304). The philosopher illustrates said constellation with respect to animals: “Jeder Zoo muß Elefanten und Löwen haben. In allem übrigen besteht Toleranz. Dazu ist anzufügen, daß gerade diese beiden Tiere einander nichts tun, obwohl das eine sehr fleischeslustig, das andere sehr fleischhaltig ist. […] Wenn sie sich nichts tun, so nicht aus Zuneigung. Am ehesten ließe sich das so beschreiben: Sie interessieren sich nicht füreinander. Das ist die solideste Grundlage fürs Überleben der einen mit den anderen. Verglichen damit wäre jede Art von ‘Liebe’ gefährlich” (Löwen 89). Naturally, said animals may vary. The one at issue seems to differ (not only in this regard). At least potentially, the more humane instances of the latter are capable of bearing another’s ‘interest’ from a safe (if not good) distance. Other lifeforms (excepting Epicurean gods and their alien ilk) are unlikely to be capable of such a sheerly virtual interfacing (in that it usually tends to involve wolfing, or being wolfed). “The only ‘correct’ way to approach them is not to approach them at all” (Küpper “Uti and frui” S146; infinitized). See said scholar as to Skepticism in an affine respect, de re (“National Lit.?” 20). 48 “das Eigen[…]e des Anderen”; “[nicht] in direkter Weise zugänglich” (negated by implication); “wäre[n] […] er selbst und ich selbst einerlei”.

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Blumenberg’s lucid explications may be adduced: “consciousness […] is […] also always, what it has” in mind (Beschreibung 147; trans. dsm).49 Yet precisely this does not apply to one’s “awareness of another’s consciousness”; for that would “destroy […] the remaining […] alterity” (Beschreibung 147; trans. dsm): another’s consciousness, […] given as itself, would[,] eo ipso[,] have to turn into the peculiar self of the experiencing consciousness, obstructing and displacing the latter, so as to stand in its stead. (Beschreibung 148; trans. dsm)50

The very virtuality of vicariousness will be constitutive in regard to a perception of externals. Specifically “in the experience of other[s]”, “corporeality […] no longer signifies self-givenness”; but “becomes […] that mediacy, wherein another consciousness is always only ‘represented’ in” the (noetic) process of “appresentation”—meaning, “by way of a body” (Beschreibung 148).51 This will pertain to a counterpart’s ‘own time’ in particular: The other’s alterity […] is precisely grounded in the fact that its immanent temporality is inaccessible[.] [M]ore still: nothing [in terms] of [a] temporal determination appears in its appresentation. (Beschreibung 292; trans. dsm)52

For that reason, Blumenberg repeatedly observes: “The perception of another remains hypothetical” (Beschreibung 175; trans. dsm; see 275, 315). This factor will likely qualify (not to say, downright predestine) said state of play for conjectural procedures—counting narrative and mimetic treatments.53 Thinking in ‘subjunctive’ terms—along the lines of an ‘as if’—appears to be

|| 49 “das Bewußtsein […] ist […] auch immer, was es hat” (Beschreibung 147)—sc. what it is ‘conscious of’, what it ‘keeps’ in mind (as it were). 50 “Wahrnehmung fremden Bewußtseins”; “verbleibende[…] Fremdheit […] zerstören” (Beschreibung 147); “fremdes Bewußtsein, […] als es selbst gegebenes, müßte eo ipso zum eigenen Selbst des erfahrenden Bewußtseins werden, dieses unterbrechend und verdrängend, um an dessen Stelle zu treten”; i.e. “Ein Ich außer dem, das ein Ich selbst ist, ist der einzige Gegenstand, der ihm schlechthin nicht als er selbst gegeben sein kann” (Beschreibung 148). 51 “in der Fremderfahrung […] [‘bedeutet’] Leibhaftigkeit […] nicht mehr Selbstgegebenheit[,] [sondern] wird […] zu der Mittelbarkeit, in der sich ein fremdes Bewußtsein stets nur in Appräsentation mittels eines Leibes ‘darstellt’”. Cf. “die Erfahrung des anderen […] [‘kann’] nur Appräsentation sein” (Beschreibung 181). 52 “Die Fremdheit des anderen […] beruht gerade darauf, daß es in seiner immanenten Zeitlichkeit unzugänglich ist; mehr noch: Es erscheint in seiner Appräsentation nichts von Zeitbestimmung”. Blumenberg stresses the “Unbeziehbarkeit der immanenten Zeitsphären […] aufeinander in Husserls Fremderfahrung” (Beschreibung 293–294). 53 See Blumenberg (Beschreibung 174–175): ‘another’s appresented interior is inaccessible’.

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based on the human capacity for contingency: even the unchangeable may be altered in thought and theory.54 From a metatheoretical perspective, it would seem to be significative that— whether in Husserl’s descriptions, Blumenberg’s reception, or a comparative analysis—one is always dealing with a virtual ‘corporeality’ (if implicitly). The (Phenomenological) elucidator, the same as his (hermeneutic re)reader, cannot but encounter semioticized (here, specifically textualized) ‘bodiliness’. In their quasi plain presence, signs as such are (potentially) perceptible by any sensorially capacitated lifeform. As far as is assessable, their significance is delegated to human recipients only—who may well ignore them (quarantining the noetic possibility of otherworldly entities, for the time being).55 The inaccessibility of an alter’s interior is also stressed for sheerly virtual phenomena—sans a present (or any) physical correspondence in the lifeworld: The case would be similar with its body [‘Leib’], if it were nothing other than that ‘solid figure [‘Körper’]’, constituting itself […] in my actual and possible experiences […] as a figment exclusively of my sensorium. (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 108, V.50; trans. dsm)56

Even then, one would be dealing with “[a] certain mediacy”—always an “‘alsothere’”, “never a there-as-itself”; hence one cannot but be facing a process “rendering” something “present along with” oneself (or simultaneously): “a sort of ‘appresentation’” (Meditationen [2012] 108, V.50; trans dsm; see 109).57

|| 54 Gamper logs that Lichtenberg habitually used “the subjunctive to indicate the hypothetical [character] of the item under consideration, that is[,] in order to open up a realm of knowledge, which was constitutively related to [a state of] not knowing [‘ein Nicht-Wissen’], possessing neither the status of the true nor of the false, but that of the possible” (“Das Neue schreiben” 132; trans. dsm; cf. “Nicht-Wissen” 110–111; 115; “Dichtung als ‘Versuch’” 606–607). 55 Generally: “es [‘ist’] erdenklich (für mich, der ich das sage, und von mir aus wieder für jeden Erdenklichen, der das sagen mag)” (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 139, V.60). “Cogitat ergo est” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 313). For this reason it will be (scholarly) impermissible to spirit away language—precisely qua historically contingent, “trans-generic” (Küpper Discursive 289) and -personal code: a suspect attitude, to which Husserl everywhere inclines in his logifying manner. Be the latter as it might: de re, relating to something noetically (any, not merely philosophical, form of Nachvollzug) presupposes continuities. Obdurate convictions involving one’s ‘starting from scratch’ will inevitably force matters, hence evince a tendency toward atrophying precisely what it means to be human. 56 “Es verhielte sich ähnlich mit seinem Leib, wenn er nichts anderes wäre als der ‘Körper’, der […] in meinen wirklichen und möglichen Erfahrungen sich konstituier[te] […] als Gebilde ausschließlich meiner Sinnlichkeit”. (Cf. Meditationen [2012] 109, V.50). 57 “[e]ine gewisse Mittelbarkeit”; “‘Mit-da’ […] nie ein Selbst-da”; “eine Art des Mitgegenwärtig-Machens, eine Art ‘Appräsentation’”.

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The latter “is already the case in the perception of externals, insofar as the actually perceived front side of a thing always and necessarily appresents a thingly back side”—in attendance virtualiter, along with what is currently seen, from one’s present position (Meditationen [2012] 108–109; trans. dsm).58 In the perception of others, “this kind of […] co-constituting appresentation cannot” take place, since such would entail “the possibility of a confirmation via [a] corresponding […] presentation (the back side becomes the front side)”; but the latter “must be excluded […] for that [type of] appresentation” as were “to lead into” another’s interior (Meditationen [2012] 109, V.50; trans. dsm).59 In said regard, there will (likely) be no difference between human and other lifeforms: whatever its make, an alter’s inside remains impassable, ungraspable in its immediacy. This is the decisive yield for the context at hand. For that ‘freedom-loving’ animal—displaying a distinctive penchant for not accepting its (or any) limitations by advancing plus ultra in (almost) all matters—will not stand in awe before the impossible; nor be hindered by the inevitable.60 From this perspective, its capacity for contingency is a means to liberty. Tying in therewith, one might formulate the (metapoetically significant) hypothesis that precisely the factual inaccessibility of a given or envisioned counterpart—appresented qua similar, or partly comparable in bodily respects— may well tend to act as a catalyzing factor for those (semioticizing) dynamics as are after the other’s ‘interior’, whether mimetically or diegetically.61

|| 58 “liegt schon in der äußeren Erfahrung vor, sofern die eigentlich gesehene Vorderseite eines Dinges stets und notwendig eine dingliche Rückseite appräsentiert”. 59 “kann […] diese Art der […] mitkonstituierenden Appräsentation nicht sein, da zu ihr die Möglichkeit der Bewährung durch entsprechende […] Präsentation gehört (die Rückseite wird zur Vorderseite)”; “[‘muß’] für diejenige Appräsentation, die in eine andere Originalsphäre hineinleiten soll, […] ausgeschlossen sein”. “Appräsentation setzt […] Präsentation voraus. Sie ist eine durch Assoziationen mit dieser […] Wahrnehmung […] verbundene Vergegenwärtigung, […] in der besonderen Funktion der Mitwahrnehmung” (Meditationen [2012] 121, V.55). 60 Generally thereto, see subchs. 3.3, 4.4, 5.1.2, 6.6.1.1, 6.6.2, 9.1, 9.2, 10.3.1, 10.4, 11.1.2, 11.1.3, 13.4.1; as well as the onsets of chs. 8, 12, 13, herein. 61 As Kablitz pertinently observes, “Vaihinger” problematically presumes a “fundamental inaccessibility of reality”—from which “the indispensability of forming fictions” is then “deduce[d]” (Kunst 186–187; trans. dsm; cf. 189; and Vaihinger 155–156, I.xxxv). Conversely, the present induction tentatively hypothesizes something like a ‘relative inaccessibility’; and precisely since—with respect to any alter—such does appear to have a fundamentum in re. Provisionally, the above argument proceeds from the experience that whatever is (resp. can) be encountered, envisioned, engaged with, happens to seem factual (incl. other lifeforms). Even so, there will be limitations: here particularly an—empirically observable—‘restriction on entry’ to the alter’s ‘interior’ (whether animal or deity).

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Said process of appresentation rests on the implementation of an optical alignment or accommodation (even quasi equation).62 Husserl accentuates: only a […] similarity[,] connecting that body there with my body [here][,] may serve as the motivational foundation for an ‘analogizing’ conception of the former qua other body […][—]a certain assimilating apperception[.] (Meditationen [2012] 110, V.50; trans. dsm)63

Parity is a (noetic) footing for an(y) acknowledgment (acceptance, appreciation) of alterity—the latter never being ‘essential’, let alone ‘absolute’.64 Qua universal technique for describing ‘phenomena’, the basic drift of Husserl’s discipline is incompatible with all those (ultimately theological) discourses as covet ‘the radically Other’; and which—precisely so as to fulfill their self-allocated role as curators (and recyclers) of its presumed Being (or Dignity)—cannot but do so.65 In plain contrast to his metaphysically misguided forerunner Descartes (to say nothing of later epigones), the arch-Phenomenologist consistently parallels “Human beings and animals” in the present context (Meditationen [2012] 141, V.61; trans. dsm).66 He speaks of “all nature […], including human and faunal

|| 62 Mutatis mutandis, cf. Penzkofer’s conceptualization of rhetorico-narrative streamlining qua “assimilation of perspectives” (“Perspektivenangleichung”, Bedeutungsaufbau 61; trans. dsm; with 68–70, 77). The general technique is polypurposive. 63 “daß nur eine […] jenen Körper dort mit meinem Körper verbindende Ähnlichkeit das Motivationsfundament für die ‘analogisierende’ Auffassung des ersteren als anderer Leib abgeben kann […][—]eine gewisse verähnlichende Apperzeption”. Husserl’s argumentative basis is lifeworldly (hence inductive): “Auch die uns unbekannten Dinge dieser Welt sind, allgemein zu reden, ihrem Typus nach bekannte. Wir haben dergleichen, obschon gerade nicht dieses Ding hier, früher schon gesehen. So birgt jede Alltagserfahrung eine analogisierende Übertragung” (Meditationen [2012] 110, V.50). 64 Husserl stresses: “es muß, wenn überhaupt in mir Strukturen angelegt sind, die das MitSein der anderen […] implizieren, […] eine einzige Natur geben”; even so, it is “möglich” (hence conceivable, quasi constructible) that there might be “Animalien, die jedes aktuellen Konnexes mit uns entbehren”: “Ihre Welten sind aber Umwelten mit offenen, nur faktisch, nur zufälligerweise für sie nicht erschließbaren Horizonten” (Meditationen [2012] 139, V.60). Not only has ‘radical’ alterity never been noticed—it is strictly imperceptible. Each and every experience with any other requires a minimum of (understood, presumed) resemblance—being impossible without the latter (hence only positable ex negativo). 65 See Mayfield (“Against” 5–8; “Philosophical Animal” 58–59). 66 “Menschen und Tiere”. Cf. “Menschen- und Tierwelt” (Meditationen [2012] 140, V.61; plus 95, V.44; 141, V.61). In the present respect, Husserl puts all “Animalien” on an equal footing (Meditationen [2012] 129, V.56; 139, V.60; for other instances of parallelization, see 95, V.44; 134, V.58; 138, V.60; 140–141, V.61). Given the universalistic tendencies of Phenomenology, he cannot but accentuate a certain parity. From the perspective of discursive archeology, this severs him decisively: from Descartes before; and Derrida after (to say nothing of Lévinas).

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bodies” (Meditationen [2012] 134, V.58; trans. dsm); generally of “Animalien” (Meditationen [2012] 129, V.56; also: 139, V.60).67 While some kind of similarity (respectively assimilation) is requisite for the process of appresentation in the experience of others, the comparative body’s mode of givenness differs—as does the complementary aspect of said technique. Husserl stresses “the peculiar” thing about “that analogizing conception […], whereby a solid figure within my […] sphere is perceived as an[other] body[,] being similar to my own bodily figure”: in this case, one’s respectively present corporeality—a continual given, a principal experience, wherefrom one cannot but proceed—is “constantly alive”; while “what is appresented by virtue of that analogization may never become present in actuality” (Meditationen [2012] 111, V.51; trans. dsm).68

|| 67 “die ganze Natur […], in sie einbezogen die menschlichen und tierischen Leiber”. Cf. “Animalität” (Meditationen [2012] 141, V.61). The formulation “als animalische und im besonderen menschliche” (Meditationen [2012] 138, V.60) implies a comprehensive view, as well. Husserl’s thought assumes reciprocal parity rather than alterity, here: “Von mir aus […] gewinne ich die für mich […] Anderen […][—]ich gewinne sie nicht bloß als mir leiblich gegenüber […]. Vielmehr im Sinne einer Menschengemeinschaft und des Menschen, der schon als einzelner den Sinn eines Gemeinschaftsgliedes mit sich führt (was sich auf tierische Gesellschaftlichkeit überträgt), liegt ein Wechselseitig-für-einander-Sein, das eine […] Gleichstellung meines Daseins und des aller Anderen mit sich bringt; also ich und jedermann als ein Mensch unter anderen Menschen” (Meditationen [2012] 129, V.56). In line with Husserl’s parenthesis (hence his sense), one might add: ‘(human beings) qua animals inter alia’. Cf. “Menschen (allgemeiner, Animalien)” (Meditationen [2012] 129, V.56). 68 “das Eigentümliche derjenigen analogisierenden Auffassung […], durch die ein Körper innerhalb meiner […] Sphäre[,] als meinem eigenen Leib-Körper ähnlich[,] ebenfalls als Leib aufgefaßt wird”; “immerfort lebendig”; “daß das vermöge jener Analogisierung Appräsentierte nie wirklich zur Präsenz kommen kann”. Cf. “Tritt nun ein Körper in meiner […] Sphäre abgehoben auf, der dem meinen ‘ähnlich’ ist […], so […] [‘muß er’] alsbald den Sinn Leib von dem meinen her übernehmen” (Meditationen [2012] 113, V.51). “Was machte den Leib zum fremden, und nicht zum zweiten eigenen Leib? […] daß vom übernommenen Sinn der spezifischen Leiblichkeit nichts in meiner […] Sphäre original verwirklicht werden kann” (Meditationen [2012] 113, V.51)—meaning, only virtually; alteri remain inaccessible ‘inwardly’. It is unfeasible to feel the (precise) same ‘pain’ (see Blumenberg Beschreibung 768)—let alone another’s pleasure; but one could obtain an effectually comparable impression, insofar as the context is inter-relatable. A hurtful, while rather innocuous case: accidentally, another’s finger might get caught in the doorframe for a split second; should one care to reenact the scene with one’s own, the pain (never identical) would differ in degree, though hardly categorically— wherefore a basis (or point) of comparison might be regarded as having been established. Cf. Husserl: “durch eine appräsentative Apperzeption konstituiert, die ihrer Eigenart gemäß nie Erfüllung durch Präsentation […] zuläßt” (Meditationen [2012] 118, V.54); “die beiden […] Sphären, die meine […] und die seine, die für mich appräsentierte ist, [‘sind’] durch einen

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Whereas the corresponding exterior is perceived as (potentially, in fact) coattendant with oneself, the insides, invisible appendices, of what is appresented remain ungraspable—even while conceivably at hand (virtually, in theory).69 Not incidentally, Husserl tenders a temporal sample qua point of reference: Just as[,] in my living presence, in the realm of ‘inner perception’, my past constitutes itself by virtue of the […] memories appearing [there]in […], so may other[s] […] constitute [themselves] in mine […] by way of appresentations […] occurring in my […] sphere […]. Yet to all [that is] other[,] something appresented […] appertains […], which is not me myself, but my modification, [something] else[.] (Meditationen [2012] 115, V.52; trans. dsm)70

|| Abgrund getrennt, über den ich nicht wirklich hinüber kann” (Meditationen [2012] 120, V.55). “Daß die Anderen sich in mir als Andere konstituieren ist die einzig denkbare Weise, wie sie als seiende und soseiende für mich Sinn und Geltung haben können; sie […] sind […] für sich selbst genau so seiend, wie ich für mich bin; dann aber auch in Gemeinschaft, also […] in Verbindung mit mir […]. Zwar sind sie reell […] getrennt, sofern keine reelle Verbindung von ihren Erlebnissen zu meinen Erlebnissen und so überhaupt von ihrem Eigen[…]en zu dem meinen überführt. Dem entspricht […] die ‘reale’ Trennung, die weltliche […], die sich als räumliche darstellt […]. Andererseits ist diese […] Gemeinschaft nicht ein Nichts. […] Seiendes ist mit Seiendem in […] Gemeinschaft” (Meditationen [2012] 128, V.56). The point is the nexus: “Fremderfahrung […] leistet […] eine […] durch Vergegenwärtigung vermittelte Verbindung zwischen der […] Selbsterfahrung […], also seiner […] Sphäre, und der in ihr vergegenwärtigten fremden Sphäre” (Meditationen [2012] 127, V.55). 69 Cf. “Die Appräsentation, die das […] Unzugängliche des Anderen gibt, ist verflochten mit einer […] Präsentation (‘seines’ Körpers als Stück meiner […] gegebenen Natur)” (Meditationen [2012] 113, V.52). “Jede Erfahrung ist angelegt auf weitere, die appräsentierten Horizonte […] bestätigende […] Forterfahrung […]. Hinsichtlich der Fremderfahrung [‘kann’] […] Fortgang nur durch […] neue Appräsentation […] erfolgen” (Meditationen [2012] 113–114, V.52). “Fremdappräsentation [‘liefert’] im beständigen Fortgang der wirksamen Assoziation immer neue appräsentative Gehalte” (Meditationen [2012] 119, V.54). A sequence of mediated, indirect appresentations fills in for an unattainable immediacy. “Der erfahrene fremde Leib bekundet sich fortgesetzt wirklich als Leib nur in seinem wechselnden […] ‘Gebaren’, derart, daß diese seine physische Seite hat, die Psychisches appräsentierend indiziert” (Meditationen [2012] 114, V.52). Inductively, one proceeds from a given—similar, assimilated—exterior to the tentative assumption of a matching internality conjecturally present. With regard to—and via—‘another body’s physical appearance’, an ‘inside’ (be it as it may) is “appräsentiert, mit wahrgenommen, niemals als es selbst und ‘leibhaftig’ gegeben” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 827). 70 “So wie sich in meiner lebendigen Gegenwart, im Bereich der ‘inneren Wahrnehmung’, meine Vergangenheit konstituiert vermöge der in dieser Gegenwart auftretenden […] Erinnerungen, so kann sich in meiner […] Sphäre[,] durch in ihr auftretende […] Appräsentationen[,] in [M]einem […] [F]remdes […] konstituieren […]. Zu allem Fremden aber gehört […] ein [A]ppräsentiertes […], das ich selbst nicht bin, sondern mein Modifikat, [A]nderes”. Here as passim, the source is fraught with “transcendental ballast” (Blumenberg Beschreibung 157; trans. dsm)—reduced, quarantined in the take at hand. On the above: “Was je original präsentierbar […] ist, das […] gehört zu mir selbst als Eigenes. Was […] in […] einer

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Taking up Husserl’s thought, Blumenberg elaborates on his example as regards the explicit (or genetic) nexus—putting into perspective one’s own awareness of time with respect to the possibility for experiencing otherness as such. Via the “interpolation of memory, hence of distance”, anyone is potentially capacitated to recall “his” or her “past presences”, whereby “the concept of the ‘other […]’ as something possible” may (in theory) be formed (Beschreibung 150; trans. dsm).71 Consequently, one’s consideration(s) will “[n]ot” start with “the experienceable existence of others” (Beschreibung 150; trans. dsm); but already with “[t]he other qua conceivable possibility” (Beschreibung 151; trans. dsm).72 Any being (actively) capable of memory—of temporal distance, abstracting from a given state or present—can view itself as having been else before; and might extrapolate its existing not yet or no longer, at some time in the past or future. Everyone’s matter has been otherwise; so is likely to change again. The notion of contingency is not sans fundamentum in re (respectively experientia). As to the metapoetical query targeted herein, the above may well signify that narratives—semioticizing the angles of other animals in potentia and a human manner—would (at least in theory) also seem capable of performing the appresentative process for, and with, counterparts not (else never, no longer) factually present (in this world). One might think of already extinct species; or the entirely fabricated, biodiverse hybrids pertaining to mythology and religion.

|| […] unerfüllbaren Erfahrung, einer nicht […] selbstgebenden, […] erfahren ist, ist ‘Fremdes’. Es ist also nur denkbar als Analogon von Eigenheitlichem […]: der Andere phänomenologisch als ‘Modifikation’ meine[r]” (Meditationen [2012] 114, V.52). “Wie meine erinnerungsmäßige Vergangenheit meine lebendige Gegenwart transzendiert als ihre Modifikation, so ähnlich das appräsentierte [F]remde […] das [E]igene” (Meditationen [2012] 115, V.52). The account of one’s conduct vis-à-vis temporality enables grasping a structurally equivalent phenomenon: “In […] Fremderfahrung [‘konstituiert sich’] […] Fremdes, als ein appräsentiertes, […] prinzipiell nicht in meiner […] Sphäre […] Gegebenes und je zu Gebendes […]. Ich muß erst das Eigene als solches auslegen, um zu verstehen, daß im Eigenen auch Nichteigenes […][S]inn bekommt, […] als analogisch Appräsentiertes” (Meditationen [2012] 149, V.62). “‘In’ mir erfahre, erkenne ich den Anderen, in mir konstituiert er sich – appräsentativ gespiegelt, […] nicht als Original” (Meditationen [2012] 148, V.62); “in meiner […] Erfahrung erfahre ich nicht nur mich selbst, sondern in der […] Gestalt der Fremderfahrung den Anderen” (Meditationen [2012] 148, V.62). 71 “Einschaltung von Erinnerung, also von Distanz”; “seine vergangenen Gegenwarten”; “den Begriff des ‘anderen […]’ als eines möglichen”. See Blumenberg (Beschreibung 157; 261–262). 72 “[n]icht erst die erfahrbare Existenz der anderen” (Beschreibung 150); “[d]er als möglich gedachte Andere“ (Beschreibung 151). The capacity for virtuality implies (posits, presupposes) perceiving some sort of temporality—hence a resp. awareness. This will comprise an “als ob […] von möglichen, obgleich unerfahrbaren, anderen”—i.e. sheer (comprehensively fabricated) “Gedankenexperiment[e]” (Beschreibung 150). Generally, cf. Krauthausen (62–63, 62n.).

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Repeatedly, Blumenberg notes the theoretical condition of possibility for an experience of alterity. Without “the concept of the other”, one “could […] by no means have the experience of the other, since this cannot be [(noetically) visuovivid] perception, but only appresentation” (Beschreibung 181; trans. dsm).73 Immediacy pertains to oneself only (if that). Should an always already—and entirely—indirect access to some(thing) other be posited, an “alterity” regarding “oneself within one’s peculiarity” (“Fremdheit […] für sich selbst inmitten der Eigenheit”, Beschreibung 271; trans. dsm) must precede it. Here, one’s own time: appresentation is learned in the experience with oneself. It is rehearsed as a procedure of relating recollection and the present to each other; and […] not only current recollection[;] but[,] to an unknown, [and] probably much greater degree[,] potential recollection. (Beschreibung 266; trans. dsm)74

The accent will be on the latter—that virtual (implicitly ‘poietic’) factor. In the act of “reflection, this consciousness becomes an other to itself” (Beschreibung 154; trans. dsm; see 243, 295–296): “we would know what another self is, because we ourselves are capable of becoming this [sc. other] to ourselves” (Beschreibung 157; trans. dsm).75 One attains to “the grounding for the concept of the other from the surrogate of memory” (Beschreibung 182; trans. dsm).76 For || 73 “den Begriff des anderen”; “könnte […] die Erfahrung des anderen unter keinen Umständen machen, weil diese nicht Anschauung, sondern nur Appräsentation sein kann”. 74 “Appräsentation wird in der Selbsterfahrung erlernt. Sie wird eingeübt als Verfahren, Erinnerung und Gegenwart aufeinander zu beziehen; und […] nicht nur aktuelle Erinnerung, sondern in unbekanntem, wohl ungleich größerem Maße potentielle Erinnerung”. 75 “[‘In’ der] Reflexion […] wird dieses Bewußtsein sich selbst das Andere” (Beschreibung 154). “Wir wüßten, was ein anderes Ich ist, weil wir dies schon selbst für uns selbst werden können” (Beschreibung 157). “Bedingung für die Möglichkeit der Fremderfahrung” is its deriving “aus der Selbsterfahrung” (Beschreibung 313; cf. Phänomen. 44). The point is “das Verhalten des einen zum anderen […] aus seinem Verhalten zu sich selbst [zu ‘begründen’], seine Fremderfahrung angelegt und vorgeprägt […] sehen in seiner Selbsterfahrung” (Beschreibung 305); “die Annahme der Möglichkeit [A]nderer […] [wird] erfahren schon an der […] Erfahrung des eigenen […] als des anderen” (Beschreibung 315). “Daß ein Ich undurchsichtig sein kann – diese extreme aller Unselbstverständlichkeiten –, muß in der Selbsterfahrung gesichert und umgänglich gemacht sein, ehe es in der Fremderfahrung als deren konstitutives Moment hingenommen werden kann” (Beschreibung 266–267). 76 “aus dem Surrogat der Erinnerung die Fundierung des Begriffs des Anderen”. Cf. “Selbsterfahrung genügt, um die Möglichkeit der Fremderfahrung zu denken” (Beschreibung 158–159). There is a “Vorfindlichkeit der Verbindung von Selbstsein und Anderssein im Ich selbst” (Beschreibung 265). Quasi Heraclitean (see 3.7): “Ich wäre es und wäre es nicht, über den ich spreche” (Beschreibung 157); “das reflektierte […] muß für das reflektierende mit einer Fremdheitsqualität behaftet, also: auch anderes […] sein” (Beschreibung 159). Blumenberg logs

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[w]hen someone no longer comprehends, how he could have been the one, as who he finds himself in [his] memory, the awareness of alterity is set into clearer relief than [in the case where] he does not comprehend, how another can be the one, as who he appears. (Beschreibung 266; trans. dsm)77

In the present context, the vital aspect will be this (already insinuated above): “for the concept of the other”—“qua gained from a type of consciousness capable of recollection”—it is “immaterial […], whether there are others […] at all[,] and [whether] they are ever experienced” (Beschreibung 186; trans. dsm).78 At least potentially, this would probably also mean: the mechanism is open and available to any form of virtuality and its poíesis.79 In accord therewith, the

|| “daß Husserl […] die Verbindung von Reflexion und Fremdsubjekt gescheut hat”; that—in “Theorien der Fremderfahrung”—the ‘question was not posed’, “ob neben der Erinnerung nicht auch die Reflexion Anteil an der Gewinnung des Begriffs eines anderen […] hat” (Beschreibung 155). Qua “Hauptschwierigkeit” of Husserl’s Phenomenological “Theorie der Fremdwahrnehmung”, Blumenberg offers “[d]ie Frage, woher ein Ich überhaupt zu verstehen vermag, was der Ausdruck ‘ein anderes […]’ bedeutet” (Beschreibung 157). 77 “Wenn einer nicht mehr begreift, wie er der gewesen sein konnte, als den er sich in der Erinnerung vorfindet, so ist das Bewußtsein von Fremdheit klarer ausgeprägt, als wenn er nicht begreift, wie ein anderer der sein kann, als der er erscheint”. See also Blumenberg (Beschreibung 295–296, 300, 302, 768–769, 775). Spec. “Das sich erinnernd in sich selbst neuerdings zurücklebende und einlebende Ich […] gewinnt dabei den Begriff eines Anderen” (Beschreibung 185). He links this to a characteristic polemic—not only directed at Descartes (more or less explicitly); but against the Platonico-Socratic tradition in its entirety (spec. the Stoa): “Selbsterkenntnis […] hat ins Überleben der Gattung offenbar nichts eingebracht – es sei denn, sie habe die Leistungsfähigkeit der Fremderfahrung schon ermöglicht oder gesteigert. Selbsterkenntnis […] als konstitutives Moment der Fremderfahrung” (Beschreibung 269); “die in die Fremderfahrung einzubringende Kenntnis dessen, was ‘Fremdheit’ ist, [‘ha(t)’] im Selbstverhältnis […] ihren Ursprung” (Beschreibung 267). “Die Möglichkeit des anderen […] aus der Gegebenheit des Anderen im Eigenen begreifen zu können, ist für die Selbsterhaltung der Gattung insofern von Bedeutung, als es Bedingung für die Erfahrung von der Wirklichkeit anderer […] ist” (Beschreibung 272). “Der funktionale Nullwert der Selbsterkenntnis – soweit diese nicht Bedingung für die Möglichkeit der Fremdwahrnehmung ist” (Beschreibung 286). “Fremderfahrung durch Selbsterkenntnis” (Beschreibung 291). 78 “für den Begriff des anderen […], als den einer erinnerungsfähigen Bewußtseinstypik abgewonnenen, [‘ist es’] gleichgültig […], ob es je andere […] gibt und sie je erfahren werden”. 79 Nietzsche stresses this via myriad variations (the ensuing being but a slight selection): “Vor der Logik, welche überall mit Gleichungen arbeitet, muß das Gleichmachen, das Assimiliren gewaltet haben: und es waltet noch fort, und das logische Denken ist ein fortwährendes Mittel selber für die Assimilation, für das Sehen-w o l l e n identischer Fälle” (KSA 11. 645, 40[33]); “eine lange Übung und Vorschulung im Gleichsehen, Gleichnehmen-wollen, im Ansetzen identischer Fälle” (KSA 11. 631, 40[7]; plus 635, 40[15]). “Ähnliches mit Ähnlichem identificiren – irgend welche Ähnlichkeit an einem und einem andern Ding ausfindig machen ist der

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metapoetical (philosophico-literary) prerequisite for narrativized experiences of other animals will be the perceivable alterity of one’s ‘prior’ and (presumed) ‘interior’. The latter’s condition of possibility is the universal contingency of matter: it might be else—and its particular manifestations not at all. In the present thinkers, the tempo-corporal pairing of ‘before and now’— respectively ‘other and own’—shows a tendency of corresponding to the spatial opposition (ever of special pertinence for vicarious phenomena): My corporeality has […] ‘here’ […] [as] its mode of givenness; every other body[,] hence that […] of the ‘other’[,] has the modus ‘there’. This orientation […] is subject to […] free alteration. (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 116, V.53; trans. dsm)80

Standpoints are contingent; views might be else. The (reciprocal) technique of appresentation conditions and facilitates a (virtual) change of stance and angle: By means of free variation[,] I can alter my position […] in such a way that I could change every [‘]there[’] into a [‘]here[’], i.e. take every spatial location bodily. This entails that[,] from there[,] I would perceive […] things […] in correspondingly different modes of appearance […][;] or that […] not only the appearance[s][…] of my momentaneous ‘starting from here’ pertain to every thing, but […] [also the ones] corresponding to that change of position, which shifts me into [that] [‘]there[’]. And thus for every [‘]there[’]. (Meditationen [2012] 116, V.53; trans. dsm)81

|| Urprozeß. Das G e d ä c h t n i ß lebt von dieser Thätigkeit und übt sich vorwährend” (KSA 7. 487, 19[217]). “Unser G e d ä c h t n i ß beruht auf dem G l e i c h sehen und Gleichnehmen: also auf dem U n g e n a u sehen” (KSA 9. 493, 11[138]). “Jeder Begriff entsteht durch Gleichsetzen des Nicht-Gleichen” (“Wahrheit [KSA 1]” 880). “Der Begriff entsteht aus einem Gleichsetzen des Nichtgleichen: d. h. durch die Täuschung, es gäbe ein Gleiches, durch die Voraussetzung von I d e n t i t ä t e n […]. Man sieht einen Menschen gehen: nennt es ‘gehen’. Jetzt einen Affen, Hund: sagt auch ‘gehen’” (KSA 7. 542, 23[11]). 80 “Mein körperlicher Leib hat […] seine Gegebenheitsweise des […] ‘Hier’; jeder andere Körper[,] und so der […] des ‘Anderen’[,] hat den Modus ‘Dort’. Diese Orientierung […] unterliegt […] dem freien Wechsel”. Contextualization enables vicariousness: “Es ist dieselbe [‘Natur’], nur in der Erscheinungsweise, ‘wie wenn ich dort anstelle des fremden Leibkörpers stünde’. Der Körper ist derselbe, mir als dort, ihm als hier” (Meditationen [2012] 122, V.55). Concerning the spatio-visual nexus constitutive for the discipline in question, see Blumenberg: “Die Phänomenologie ist […] vor allem eine Erschließung der Struktur von Mitgegebenheiten. Das gilt auch für das Phänomen der Appräsentation; sie beutet […] die […] Mitgegebenheit auch im Raume aus” (Beschreibung 773). As regards “Fremdwahrnehmung durch Appräsentation”, he adds: “Husserl [‘genügt’] spezifische Gleichheit bei positionaler Differenz”—i.e. “Differenz der Positionen in Raum und Zeit” (Beschreibung 274). 81 “Ich kann meine Stellung durch freie Abwandlung […] so ändern, daß ich jedes Dort in ein Hier verwandeln, d. i. jeden räumlichen Ort leiblich einnehmen könnte. Darin liegt, daß ich von dort aus wahrnehmend […] Dinge […] in entsprechend anderen Erscheinungsweisen […]

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Kant had noted the universalism, general applicability, of perspective taking also: “one […] puts oneself into the position of any other […] by […] abstracting from the limitations as accidentally attach to one’s own […] assessment” (KU 174, B157[294], §40, I.i.2; trans. dsm).82 By extrapolation, vicariousness may well be a side effect of the fact that this animal tends to advance plus ultra tout court (also, or especially, in potentia). Being an instance of contingent matter, anyone might as well see things differently (including not at all). Expressly, Husserl relates the proxyful aspect or factor to the “associative performance[s] of other-experience”: I apperceive the other […] not simply as a duplicate of myself […], but […] with such [‘modes of appearance’], as I myself would equally have, were I to go there and be there. (Meditationen [2012] 116, V.53; trans. dsm)83

Mediated via one’s own, unavoidably given corporeality, the vicarious relation to one’s respective counterpart cannot but be indirect—taking place in noetic potentiality; in the (subjunctive) modus of an ‘as if’.84

|| sehen würde[;] oder daß zu jedem Ding […] nicht bloß die Erscheinung[en][…] meines momentanen ‘Von hier aus’ gehören, sondern […] entsprechende jenes Stellungswechsels, der mich ins Dort versetzt. Und so für jedes Dort”. 82 “man […] [‘versetzt’] sich in die Stelle jedes anderen […], indem man […] von den Beschränkungen, die unserer […] Beurteilung zufälligerweise anhängen, abstrahiert”. As per Kant, “e r w e i t e r t e […] D e n k u n g s a r t” signifies: “sich über die subjektiven Privatbedingungen des Urteils […] wegsetzen [zu] k[önnen] und aus einem a l l g e m e i n e n S t a n d p u n k t e (den er dadurch nur bestimmen kann, daß er sich in den Standpunkt anderer versetzt) über sein eigenes Urteil [zu] reflektier[en]” (KU 176, B159[295], §40, I.i.2). In general: “[sich] an der Stelle jedes anderen [zu] denken” is “die Maxime […] der e r w e i t e r t e n […] Denkungsart” (KU 175, B158[294], §40, I.i.2). See Küpper thereto (“Uti and frui” S149n.; with context). 83 “[die] assoziativen Leistung[en] der Fremderfahrung”. “Ich apperzipiere den Anderen […] nicht einfach als Duplikat meiner selbst […], sondern […] mit solchen [‘Erscheinungsweisen’], wie ich sie selbst in Gleichheit haben würde, wenn ich dorthin ginge und dort wäre”. Cf. “appräsentiert […] als jetzt [M]itdaseiendes […] im Modus Dort (‘wie wenn ich dort wäre’)” (Meditationen [2012] 118, V.54). 84 Cf. “[die] den Modus ‘Anderer’ konstituierende[…] Assoziation […] ist keine unmittelbare” (Meditationen [2012] 117, V.54); “die verähnlichende Apperzeption […] durch welche der äußere Körper dort von dem mir eigenen analogisch den Sinn Leib erhält” (Meditationen [2012] 117, V.54). “Die […] Konstitution der […] Welt versteht sich […] als meine wirkliche und mögliche Welterfahrung, meine, des sich selbst als Menschen [E]rfahrenden […]. Diese Erfahrung […] hat stets ihren offen unbestimmten Horizont. In diesem […] liegt für jeden Menschen jeder Andere physisch, psychophysisch, innerpsychisch als Reich offen endloser Zugänglichkeiten, schlecht und recht, wenn auch zumeist eben schlecht” (Meditationen [2012] 130, V.56). This quasi value

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With Blumenberg, it must be stressed that, even in a projective, anticipatory virtuality, the starting point is—and always remains—one’s own corporeality: Just as[,] in all efforts at exchanging here [and] there, one repeatedly falls back on [one’s] here, the which is impossible to leave, so with all free variations concerning the body[,] one repeatedly falls back on its peculiarity for every self. (Beschreibung 767; trans. dsm)85

While alive and sentient—which must be the case during any act of appresentation—the “brute factuality” of corporeality cannot be spirited away (Nietzsche KSA 11. 566, 36[36]; trans. dsm; see Mayfield Artful 371–372).86 Be the noetic and virtual realms as free as they may: positional contingency is limited by its own facticity. Blumenberg places the accent accordingly: the experience of one’s own body is the cogent precondition for […] the experience of others to become possible in the first place. For other-experience is the adoption of the premise[…] that internal structures quasi come along with […] another body, which permit the experience of a respectively peculiar body to appear as an immediate annex of inner experience, of reflection […]. These form a sort of continuum, wherein […] there may be no specific difference, if the whole mechanism of appresentation is to function at all. (Beschreibung 771; trans. dsm)87

|| judgment must not be misconstrued: the point is the (sheer) impossibility of direct, immediate access to any other’s ‘interior’. 85 “So wie man in aller Anstrengung der Hier-Dort-Vertauschung immer wieder auf das Hier zurückfällt, das zu verlassen unmöglich ist, fällt man auch bei allen freien Variationen über den Leib immer wieder auf seine Einzigkeit für jedes Ich zurück”; i.e. one cannot ‘actually’ leave it. Accordingly, Blumenberg accentuates “die Notwendigkeit […], bei jeder imaginativen Selbstversetzung[—]auf ein Dort zu meinem unverlaßbaren Hier[—]den Leib ‘bei sich zu haben’. Der Eigenleib kann […] nicht abgelegt werden” (Beschreibung 829); “die Unmöglichkeit […] ihn aus irgendeiner Fremdgegebenheit auszuschalten” (Beschreibung 829). 86 With context: “selbst jene Philosophen und Religiösen, welche den zwingendsten Grund in ihrer Logik und Frömmigkeit hatten, ihr Leibliches als […] überwundene und abgethane Täuschung zu nehmen, [‘haben’] nicht umhin gekonnt, die dumme Thatsächlichkeit anzuerkennen, daß der Leib nicht davon gegangen ist” (KSA 11. 566, 36[36]). No body, no mind. 87 “die Eigenleiberfahrung [‘ist’] die zwingende Vorbedingung dafür […], daß Fremderfahrung überhaupt möglich werden kann. Denn Fremderfahrung ist die Annahme der Voraussetzung[…], daß bei einem […] Fremdkörper gleichsam Innenstrukturen mitgegeben sind, die die Eigenleiberfahrung als unmittelbaren Adnex der inneren Erfahrung, der Reflexion, […] erscheinen läßt. Diese bilden eine Art Kontinuum, in welchem es […] keine spezifische Differenz geben darf, wenn der ganze Mechanismus der Appräsentation überhaupt funktionieren soll”. Cf. “in der Phänomenologie der Fremdwahrnehmung [‘muß’] alles durch die Appräsentation geleistet werden […]: Die Anschauung eines physischen Körpers als Leib allein muß die Evidenz dafür hergeben, daß in diesem Leib […] [etwas] waltet wie in dem von mir als Eigenleib erlebten Körper” (Beschreibung 313–314). “Die Angewiesenheit von

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An actual corporeality is always involved—even when dealing with a theoretical appresentation, with fabricated others: one’s own body is irreducible. The fact that, being contingent, it may well not be (else no longer), is never experienced as such—only conceivable ex negativo (in potentia); or witnessed vicariously.88 As priorly signaled, virtual and projective techniques of compensation are characteristic for the process in question. Husserl stresses: with regard to the thing[, which] pertains to such a presenting-appresenting perception[,] [and which] appears in the modus of being-here-per-se, […] one is to differentiate between what is actually perceived[,] and the surplus of what is not actually perceived, while still being co-present. In this way[,] every perception of this type goes beyond, […] posits more qua here-per-se than it ‘effectually’ renders present in each case. Any arbitrary external perception, such as that of a house (front [and] back side)[,] pertains thereto; […] in principle[,] this describes every perception […] in the most universal [respects][.] (Meditationen [2012] 121, V.55; trans. dsm)89

When human beings are involved, there are always added values (be the quality as it may). Graced or cursed with the knowledge that things may be otherwise, the given cannot possibly suffice—and one will go further and beyond. The spatio-figurative relation between ‘here’ and ‘there’ enables access to the structurally similar phenomenon of ‘in- and outside’. In the “experience of others”, the process of appresentation comprises the possibility of a (potentially reciprocal) “perception that the other is looking at the same thing as I am” (Meditationen [2012] 123, V.55; trans. dsm).90 There are tertia—further points of || Fremderfahrung auf das Faktum, andere Leibkörper angetroffen zu haben und anzutreffen, reflektiert sich auf die Eigenleiberfahrung, insofern diese Bedingung der Möglichkeit für jeden analogisch verfahrenden ‘Brückenschlag’ zu Leibkörpern [A]nderer […] ist. […] die Erfahrung des Eigenleibs [‘ist’] auch eine Fremderfahrung, eine Appräsentation, weil dies der einzige physische Körper in der Welt ist, von dem mir vollständige Präsentation, uneingeschränkte Leibhaftigkeit, nicht zuteil wird” (Beschreibung 826–827). 88 Cf. “Wir waren nicht dabei, als wir anfingen, und wir werden nicht dabei sein, wenn wir enden. Jeder erfährt es nur indirekt: Alle anderen haben Anfang und Ende, und man hat auch ihm bescheinigt und wird es ihm bescheinigen, dies sei bei ihm nicht anders” (Blumenberg Verführbarkeit 66; with Beschreibung 179; also cited below). 89 “an dem im Modus des Selbst-da auftretenden Gegenstand einer solchen präsentierendappräsentierenden Wahrnehmung [‘ist’] zu unterscheiden zwischen dem von ihm eigentlich Wahrgenommenen und dem Überschuß des in ihr eigentlich nicht Wahrgenommenen, und eben doch Mitdaseienden. So ist jede Wahrnehmung dieses Typus transzendierend, […] setzt mehr als Selbst-da, als was sie jeweils ‘wirklich’ präsent macht. Hierher gehört jede beliebige äußere Wahrnehmung, etwa die eines Hauses (Vorderseite-Rückseite); […] im Grunde ist damit jede Wahrnehmung […] einem Allgemeinsten nach beschrieben”. 90 “Fremdwahrnehmung”. “Wahrnehmung, daß der Andere auf dasselbe hinsieht wie ich”.

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(mutual) reference: on occasion, the other body as such.91 As Blumenberg observes, one will be dealing with a special form of reciprocity: “We experience that we are being experienced” (Beschreibung 188; trans. dsm).92 Conversely, a different position entails—but also enables—altered angles: hence varied approaches, diverse forms of (conceivable) interaction. This very divergence may become the focus of—a virtually vicarious—attention: In the appresentation of the other[,] the […] systems are the same, with all their forms of appearing […]; only that the actual perceptions and the modes of givenness effected therein[,] and partly also the actually perceived things[,] are not the same, but precisely those, which are perceivable from there, and in the manner in which they are [perceivable] from there. (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 123, V.55; trans. dsm)93

Naturally, said ‘systemic’ semblance will have to be modified somewhat—also and especially, where it shows a tendency of being assumed quasi habitually: Now[,] we know well that there is something like anomalies, sightless[ness], deaf[ness] and the like, hence that the phenomenal systems are by no means absolutely identical and whole levels (albeit not all levels) may differ. Even so[,] the anomaly must first of all constitute itself as such, and can only do so on the basis of a preceding normalcy. (Meditationen [2012] 125, V.55; trans. dsm)94

|| 91 In other animals, this will usually imply an immediate, paws-on intent (socializing, curiosity, mating, devouring, etc.). While the human variants do not tend to differ for the most part, they are (at least in theory) capable of adopting less ‘pragmatic’ attitudes, as well; and, not infrequently, precisely in place of their more downright cravings. 92 “Wir erfahren, daß wir erfahren werden”. Cf. “der Körper des Anderen selbst, nur eben von meiner Stelle und von dieser Seite aus gesehen” (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 124, V.55). On a nexus of virtuality and parity, (inter-animal) reciprocity: one sees “wie sein Körper-Leib in meinem, so mein Leib sich in seinem Wahrnehmungsfeld befindet und daß er im allgemeinen mich ohne weiteres so als für ihn Anderes erfährt, wie ich ihn als meinen Anderen erfahre. Desgleichen, […] daß ich den jeweilig Anderen erfahren kann […] als selbst auf seine Anderen bezogen […], daß die Menschen nur apperzipierbar werden als nicht nur in Wirklichkeit, sondern in Möglichkeit und nach eigenem Belieben Andere und wieder Andere vorfindende. Die offen endlose Natur […], die […] in offener Mannigfaltigkeit unbekannt sich im unendlichen Raume verteilende Menschen (allgemeiner, Animalien) […] faßt, als […] mögliche[…] Wechselgemeinschaft” (Meditationen [2012] 129, V.56). Cf. “T h i e r e — bewußte Wesen, welche diese räthselhafte Existenz mit uns theilen” (Schopenhauer “Senilia” 35, §104, [149]). 93 “In der Appräsentation des Anderen sind die […] Systeme dieselben, mit allen ihren Erscheinungsweisen […]; nur daß die wirklichen Wahrnehmungen und die in ihnen verwirklichten Gegebenheitsweisen und zum Teil auch die dabei wirklich wahrgenommenen Gegenstände nicht dieselben sind, sondern eben die, die von dort aus wahrzunehmen sind, und so, wie sie es von dort aus sind”. 94 “Nun wissen wir wohl, daß es so etwas wie Anomalitäten gibt, Blinde, Taube und dgl., daß

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These conceptualizations need (probably should) not be taken as valuative.95 The central—and vital—factor will likely be located in his parentheses: ‘not all (sensorial) planes may differ’; ‘radical alterity’ would be non-experienceable, is exclusively conceivable ex negativo. Were “otherness to preponderate to such an extent […] that no similarity can be appresented any longer”, an “experience of the other” would be impossible (Blumenberg Beschreibung 149; trans. dsm).96 E contrario: wherever the latter does occur to any degree—also noetically, virtualiter, inasmuch as a fundamentum in re is maintained—a minimum of resemblance (be it by way and virtue of assimilation) must be reckoned with. Articulated else: to the extent that the experience of other animals (than the ones in the habit of referring to themselves as human or rational) does take place—an empirical evidence for almost anyone—some type of parity cannot but obtain (to be nuanced as the case may be). Virtual accommodation is possible: factual differences are subject to contingency, as well. Blumenberg highlights the latter with special regard to the tempo-corporal conditions obtaining in all lifeforms: As a matter of principle, finitude is something that we can only know ‘from without’. We experience it via the finitude of bodies as are born and perish, hence may partake and be deprived of […] appresentation[.] (Beschreibung 799; trans. dsm)97

|| also keineswegs stets die Erscheinungssysteme absolut identisch sind und ganze Schichten (obschon nicht alle Schichten) differieren können. Aber die Anomalität muß sich als solche selbst erst konstituieren, und kann es nur auf dem Grunde einer an sich vorangehenden Normalität”. “Deckung kann total oder partiell sein; sie hat jeweils ihre Gradualität, mit dem Grenzfall der ‘Gleichheit’. Als ihre Leistung vollzieht sich am Gepaarten Sinnesübertragung, d. i. die Apperzeption des einen gemäß dem Sinn des anderen, soweit nicht an dem Erfahrenen verwirklichte Sinnesmomente diese Übertragung im Bewußtsein des ‘Anders’ aufheben” (Meditationen [2012] 112, V.51); “soweit nicht Unverträglichkeiten eingreifen, Verähnlichung, Angleichung des Sinnes des einen an den des anderen” (Meditationen [2012] 118, V.54). 95 Not infrequently, Husserl’s choice of words is simply innocent (if not infelicitous). 96 “[würde] die Fremdheit so überwiegen […] daß die Gleichheit nicht mehr appräsentiert werden kann”; “Fremderfahrung” (extracted from a noetic experiment on Blumenberg’s part). “Fremderfahrung setzt […] Wiederholung des Gleichen gerade deshalb voraus, damit das in Fremderfahrung begegnende […] ein anderes sein kann. Gleichheit der Leiber ist Bedingung für die Möglichkeit der Andersheit […], für […] Unzugänglichkeit[,] […] Undurchdringlichkeit, […] Intimität” (Beschreibung 149). In general, it might seem permissible (or necessary) to assume a difference in degree for said “Gleichheit”; these will be nuanced, refinable relations of likeness. 97 “Endlichkeit ist etwas, was wir prinzipiell nur ‘von außen’ kennen können. Wir erfahren sie über die Endlichkeit von Leibern, die geboren werden und sterben, also der Appräsentation […] teilhaftig werden und verlustig gehen können” (Beschreibung 799); “nur mittelbar, durch andere und über andere” are “Geburt und Tod” experienceable. In structural terms, this links

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Precisely this factor could not but cover other animals, as a matter of—natural, contingent—course.98 Hence the philosopher observes (in an affine context): Qua […] condition[,] the analysis of other-perception has […] posited […] that others […] of a similar bodiliness […] must exist […]; but in the statement of this […] similarity, there is no place for the fact that it [must] be […] [members] of the human species here as there. The same […] would hold good […] for any other[.] (Beschreibung 245–246; trans. dsm)99

|| them to “Fremdwahrnehmung”; for such are “die einzige[n] als authentisch schlechthin nicht mögliche[n] Erfahrung[en]: Niemand erlebt seine Geburt, niemand seinen Tod, und wir wüßten davon nichts in einer Welt, in der nicht andere geboren werden und sterben und dies als Prozedur ihres Sichtbarwerdens und ihres Entschwindens aus der Sichtbarkeit erfahren wird” (Beschreibung 179); “die Erfahrung des Todes anderer” is thus “die von Zerstörung der Appräsentation” (Beschreibung 800). In all likelihood, this factor will conduce to (or promote) a virtual perpetuation qua compensation for mortality. Generally, phenomena often seen as harbingers of one’s own finitude also pertain to said set of issues (de re): “die Phänomenologie […] verkennt […] das Fremdheitsmoment, das mit jeder Auffälligkeit des Eigenleibs verbunden ist” (Beschreibung 770); “[‘hätte’] der Eigenleib […] nicht auch Fremdheitsmomente der physischen Körperlichkeit an sich, Entfremdungen […], so gäbe es doch keinen Weg vom Eigenleib […] zum Fremdleib. Denn dieser Weg führt unweigerlich zunächst über eine Objektivierung des Eigenleibs als Auch-Körper, damit überhaupt eine Gleichsetzung eines […] ähnlichen Fremdkörpers mit einem Auch-Leib in der umgekehrten Richtung vollzogen werden kann. Weil mein Leib auch Körper ist, müssen andere Körper auch Leiber sein können. Die Breite wahrnehmbarer Körper, die prinzipiell auch Leiber sein können, wird nur eingeschränkt durch die […] Analogie des ‘So-aussehend-wie-Ich’” (Beschreibung 771–772). This concluding qualification facilitates almost any variation within (what appears to be) a generally fluid continuum. For instance, it is likely that all mammals will be comparable or ‘analogizable’ in (bodily) principle. Not only would this comprise the quasi ‘static’ assumptions concerning their overall build, facial features, extremities, and so forth; but also spec. behavioral types—as well as their usual bearing. To this extent, even mythological accounts—e.g. of Romulus, Remus— will seem significant, in terms of a capacity for acts of appresentation between species. 98 Cf. Mayfield (“Philosophical Animal” 69–71). In an affine context, Kablitz stresses (with Petrarca) “daß jedwedes Lebewesen nach diesem Leben, ungeachtet seiner Sterblichkeit, verlangt. Indem dieses Begehren […] keineswegs nur auf die Belange des Menschen abgestellt […] [ist], rückt […] das Tier in den Horizont der Wahrnehmung. Dies gilt nicht zuletzt deshalb, weil […] der betreffende Hinweis auch zu einem Argument der Klage wird, die sich […] zur Anklage steigert: Auch wir, die Tiere, sehnen uns, genauso wie ihr Menschen, nach dem Leben. Laßt uns also am Leben!” (Kunst 126; cf. “die Teilhabe der menschlichen Natur an der tierischen”, 133; with Petrarca Canzoniere 20–21, VIII, spec. v.5–8). 99 “Die Analyse der Fremdwahrnehmung hat […] zur […] Bedingung […] erklärt, daß es andere […] von gleicher Leibhaftigkeit […] geben müsse […]; aber in der Feststellung dieser […] Gleichheit hat das Faktum, daß es sich hier wie dort um […] [solche] von der Gattung Mensch handelt, keine Stelle. D[as]selbe […] würde für jede andere […] gelten”.

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This qualification will likely be valid across species; and genera, to some extent. The perceived fact of resemblance involves an act of ‘making’: ever already is it a form of poíesis. Where parity appears to be the case, it is typically taken for granted, as a given (thence subject to variation). The fundamental universalism of Husserl’s approach seems to allow for transgeneric applications.100 With characteristic variations, Blumenberg takes up the Phenomenologist: Being able to experience the factuality of other selves is downright necessary for selfpreservation. […] To this extent[,] Husserl justifiably extended the perception of others to animals […]. The inclusion of animals renders patent that […] the point is […] the perception of those elements of conduct, which might bear on the perceiving one him[-, her-, or it]self. (Beschreibung 272; trans. dsm)101

Articulated with respect to “‘behavioral language’”: “Who[ever] […] conceives of an animal’s direction of movement […] as its [‘]intention[’] has an advantage in terms of survival” (Beschreibung 273; trans. dsm).102 Naturally, this theoretical position need not pertain to, or be plausible for, anticipative (preventive, defensive, even aggressive) forms of conduct only—but also a variety of cooperative ones. In this regard, the significance of the genus canis for the development of the human species may appear as an apt example: the taming of wolves seems to have had a feedback effect on the cultivation of their domesticators (at least in certain respects).103 As to lifeworldly and pragmatic concerns, Blumenberg’s ensuing gloss will be vivid and inevitable simultaneously: “One need not look a lion in the eye, nor ‘understand’ it” (Beschreibung 275; trans. dsm).104 Even so, the fact of ‘not needing (to do)’ something has ever seemed singularly irrelevant to the animal in question. As its hypertrophic activities in the arts and crafts, in theoretical or practical sciences, in philosophies and stories will evince, human beings (and

|| 100 This approach may be said to follow Husserl’s lead by ‘reducing’ Platonico-Cartesianisms; while varying his tools and findings heuristically—as applicable to a down-to-earth context. 101 “Erfahrung von der Wirklichkeit anderer Iche haben zu können, ist für Selbsterhaltung schlechthin notwendig. […] Insofern hat Husserl zu Recht die Fremdwahrnehmung auf Tiere ausgedehnt […]. Die Einbeziehung der Tiere macht deutlich, daß es […] auf die Wahrnehmung derjenigen Elemente des Verhaltens [‘ankommt’], die den Wahrnehmenden selbst betreffen können”. Not to mention those animals as are contingencies to one another deliberately. 102 “‘Verhaltenssprache’”. “Wer […] die Laufrichtung eines Tiers […] als de[ss]en Absicht begreift, hat einen Überlebensvorteil”. 103 Naturally, both are predators at core. Some kind of reciprocal ‘sophistication’ seems needful for hunting in tandem with another species. Yet preying it remains. 104 “Man braucht einem Löwen nicht ins Auge zu blicken, ihn nicht zu ‘verstehen’”.

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that exemplar not least) tend to go further beyond in potentiality and virtuality, as well. A capacity for contingency is its catalyst. Along those very lines, narrative and mimetic treatments prove to be exceptionally expedient (as a whole collection of essays on Blumenberg’s part might also evince: Löwen passim). In keeping with its ever proceeding plus ultra, the animal addicted to perspective taking neither could nor will let it be (nor anything, for that matter). The inestimable advantage: not being vitally affected, said lion (or tiger) has nothing to gain or lose (let alone humans). To return to the case at hand: wherever a gradual congruence obtains or may be effected between (apparent or envisioned) lifeforms, appresentation is basically possible, hence will occur on occasion. This is of import for the nexus with other animals, which Husserl renders explicit in the further course of his description (with forbearance regarding his choice of words, once more): The set of problems concerned with the anomalies also includes the problem [posed by] the animals […]. With respect to animal[s][,] man […] is the normal case, as I myself constitute the arch-norm for all humans; for me[,] animals are […] constituted as anomalous ‘modifications’ of my humanity […]. Always again[,] one is dealing with […] modifications[.] (Meditationen [2012] 125, V.55; trans. dsm)105

Perhaps at no other point has Husserl distanced himself so far from Descartes.106 Differences between human and other animals are of a gradual nature only. A certain (virtual, appresentative, vicarious) nexus is possible in principle— although (simply for anatomical reasons) none of the former will ever attain to (say) the scenting abilities pertaining to members of the genus canis (or felidae). In the view (rather, the nose) of said dog—conceived of as articulating itself in narrative format—a human being would simply be an olfactorily challenged animal.107 While typically less prone to, or desirous of, smelling (naturally)— conduct so bewilderingly uncultivated (not to say barbaric) to a canine mind— the biped in question is still not altogether incapacitated on that very point.108

|| 105 “Zu der Problematik der Anomalitäten gehört auch das Problem der Tierheit […]. In bezug auf das Tier ist der Mensch […] der Normalfall, wie ich selbst konstitutiv die Urnorm bin für alle Menschen; Tiere sind […] konstituiert für mich als anomale ‘Abwandlungen’ meiner Menschlichkeit […]. Es handelt sich immer wieder um […] Modifikationen”. 106 (Contrast Discours 90–97, V.9–12, §55–60). Descartes not only puts the cart before the horse—but renders the latter a specimen of the former. Cf. Mayfield (“Against” 3n.; 6–7, 7n.). 107 On what will be the most significant ‘canine colloquium’ in world literature—the last of the Cervantine novelas ejemplares—see Mayfield (“Against” 12–33; here: 10, 13n., 25n., 26). 108 M. Sommer observes “daß die meisten [‘Tiere’] – vielleicht sogar alle – anders sehen als wir” (Suchen 26). The visual accent might be generalized: ‘every body senses otherwise’.

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Hence a tolerant hound is likely to write that specifically human issue off as a somewhat anomalous modification of its own norm and functionality.109 Tying in with—elaborating on—the above, there can be no rational grounds for the objection that appresentation does not (let alone fails to) take place in other animals. As is patent from its bearing—semiotico-physical expressions of joy, for instance—every dog (besides sound and scent) will appresent a human face as such, and ‘indeed’; meaning, qua also having eyes, a mouth, a tongue.110 Said reciprocity may be confirmed for the main orientational qualities of a specifically canine sensorium: any hound semioticizes (articulates in its natural manner) the acoustic or olfactory signals received for the (human) animals in its surrounding—often along with something like a certain ‘impatience’, since its (seemingly obtuse) bipedal companion is clearly not reacting (yet) to stimuli so momentaneously evident to the canine mind (nose, ear).111 Whoever might have chanced to experience the like first-hand (else from a safe, if virtual distance) will probably require no further proof for this form of appresentative reciprocity. Yet precisely the factual need for (re)semiotization simultaneously puts the accent on that constitutive alterity, which characterizes the immediate ‘inside’ of any counterpart as happens to be there also, along with oneself. [B]y way of a dog’s targeted movement[,] one might effortlessly elucidate: I see what he thinks, since it is only possible that, insofar as he does think, he will be thinking of this target; but I do not see that he thinks […]. No dialog, conceived of as being carried on with the dog, could provide certainty on that point. Knowledge of the other, this [is] the bottom line, remains hypothetical. (Blumenberg Beschreibung 314–315; trans. dsm; see 175; 275)112

Even so, this fact does not prevent the respective essais (attempts, literally)—on the contrary. In all probability, the verifiable quantity, generic diversity, || 109 From an eagle’s perspective, a human would be a short-sighted animal; one of a reduced acoustico-receptive spectrum to a dolphin’s sensorium. By virtue of such or similar reflections, pluriform variants of animal tales may well be arrived at. 110 Or else, to suggest an example that could seem complementary—though less palatable (unless one happens to be the predator): as far as is assessable, a cougar will typically avoid another mammal’s eyes, while clearly appresenting its neck—and sans much regard for the particular species (so long as its size is right, and within range). 111 Cf. M. Sommer: “Wer sagt, die Schnauze des Fuchses sei jetzt sichtbar, teilt damit in aller Regel mit, daß er selbst sie sieht oder soeben gesehen hat und daß jeder an seiner Stelle sie ebenfalls sehen könnte” (Suchen 32). The initial ‘saying’ might be generalized as ‘semioticizes’. 112 “[A]n der zielstrebigen Bewegung eines Hundes [‘läßt sich mühelos’] erläutern: Ich sehe, was er denkt, weil nur möglich ist, daß, sofern er denkt, er an dieses Ziel denkt; aber ich sehe nicht, daß er denkt […]. Kein Dialog, mit dem Hund geführt gedacht, könnte hierin Sicherheit schaffen. Fremderkenntnis, dies das Fazit, bleibt Hypothese”.

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descriptive polyvalence of narratives relating to other animals will rather indicate the hypertrophic tendency of that human capacity to virtually shift its stance and angle (seeing as everything might be else). One of the likely catalysts in this regard may well be the very inaccessibility of any alter’s ‘interior’ (irrespective of the species).113 Driven by its awareness as to contingency, the animal in question cannot but advance plus ultra. Pertaining to Phenomenology’s basic tool kit, free variation would then be a technique representing a most fundamental human possibility in application. As adapted by Blumenberg, this instrument enables or involves the defusing of supposedly ultimate definitions (not to mention solutions)—tendering manifold simultaneities and diverse potentialities in their place. In said respect, Sommer’s assessment is of exemplary soundness, sobriety: Not least[,] the way in which Blumenberg handles the [tool of] free variation opens up Phenomenology for basically everything that is topical in other sciences [and scholarship, ‘Wissenschaften’][,] regardless of [their] orientation. Phenomenology, thus conducted, is not exclusive, but receptive[;] does not draw boundaries, but takes up and adopts. (“Nachwort [2006]” 902; trans. dsm)114

In that they deliberately waive the claim to factuality (to say nothing of truth), such attempts at perspective taking and positional change guard and uphold what characterizes all things poetical: liberty—for everyone involved. I believe that[,] in the end[,] man is so free a being that he cannot be challenged for the right to be what he believes to be. (Lichtenberg Sudelbücher II. 536, L.972)115

|| 113 As far as is assessable, virtual experiences are also possible for other mammals (at least), seeing that they do occur. Empirical evidence may be provided by a dog’s evident ability to dream, and move in an ‘as if’ manner all the while. See the literary loci given at the onset of ch. 12. The question as to whether this might also exceed its momentaneity—i.e. if a (quasi) ‘active daydreaming’, ‘wishful thinking’ could be embraced by this faculty—must be delegated to the natural sciences. Vicarious phenomena offer a comparable case. As concerns the immediacy of physical presence, every dog, elephant, dolphin appears to be capable of accommodating its ‘affects’ or ‘temper’ to that of its (human) counterpart (spec. if a certain familiarity obtains). The query as to whether said or similar animals are also capable of targeted virtual processes cannot be answered by the Humanities. 114 In keeping with Blumenberg, “free variation” is an “instrument” (Beschreibung 159; trans. dsm)—as are other Phenomenological techniques. Ultimately, this renders them rhetorical. Qua mechanism of assimilation and mediation, appresentation is another such procedure: “durch das Medium der Vergegenwärtigung” (Husserl Meditationen [2012] 126, V.55). 115 “Ich glaube der Mensch ist am Ende ein so freies Wesen, daß ihm das Recht zu sein was er glaubt zu sein nicht streitig gemacht werden kann”. Blumenberg cites this essai as nonpareil (see Beschreibung 516, with 515: “tiefsinnig und philosophisch wie kaum eine andere”).

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‘The capacity to conceive of oneself as free cannot be contested’—nor (and a fortiori) what any of these conceited homines fabri imagines to have made.116 Narratives will pertain thereto.

12.3 A Tentative Application on Rhetorical Grounds Indeed[,] the fifth of the ‘Cartesian Meditations’ permits [one] to comprehend, how [the] experience of others […] is […] possible[;] but that does not stipulate that we must in fact have [the] experience of others. —Blumenberg (Beschreibung 236; trans. dsm)117 Kein Mensch findet es mehr absurd[,] daß die Tiere in der Fabel sprechen[.] —Lichtenberg (Sudelbücher I. 755, J.713)118

Inquiring how one may or might handle an experience of other(nes)s, this applicative subchapter aims at provisionally validating the philosophically grounded meta-poetics elicited in the preceding section—here specifically regarding a narrative praxis as includes other animals. It is a rare serendipity—perchance like Valéry’s case—that the philosopher and essayist are simultaneously present in Blumenberg, wherefore the more general (kathólou) conceptualization of ‘other-experience’ may be compared with its particular implementation on storytelling grounds.119

|| 116 The implication of Lichtenberg’s remark: man is also at liberty to allocate freedom of will and choice to itself—regardless of whether he, she, it ‘truly’ has a liberum arbitrium, or not. 117 “Zwar läßt die fünfte der ‘Cartesianischen Meditationen’ begreifen, wie Fremderfahrung […] möglich […] ist[;] aber damit ist nichts gesagt darüber, daß wir Fremderfahrung auch haben müssen”. See subch. 13.5, herein. 118 “No human being still considers it absurd that the animals speak in fable[s]” (trans. dsm). Cf. Gamper thereto (“Das Neue schreiben” 134). 119 With respect to said thinkers, Jauß logs their being “in mancher Hinsicht wahlverwandt” (“Konjunktur” 216). See also Fellmann (“Porträt” passim); Flasch (456; 469; contrast 465). Not incidentally: “Das Projekt einer deutschen Valéry-Edition hat maßgeblich […] Blumenberg vorangetrieben” (Amslinger 33n.); “erste[…] Karteikarten zu Valéry datieren […] aus dem Jahr 1946” (193; cf. 40, 173–174). “Valérys Texte [‘bild(…)en’] nicht alleine die Materialgrundlage […], sondern gleichzeitig die Prüfsteine für das Reflexionsniveau” (174; infinitized; with 194). “Valéry erscheint als Autor, der das Schreiben, das ‘Herstellen’ von Texten immer schon mitreflektiert” (184). Blumenberg refers to “Valéry” qua “Dichter, der aufhörte ein Dichter zu sein, um fast ein Philosoph zu werden” (Die nackte Wahrheit 84–85; cf. Lebensthemen 144– 145); “fast” colors “aufhörte”, retroactively. See Amslinger (175–176). Gamper observes that the “functional correlation of res and verba”—resp. “adequation of things and words”—is “ideally warranted by the personal union of poet and expert” (“Das Neue schreiben” 126; trans. dsm).

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Seeing that the focus of this overall chapter (12) is on the metatheoretical condition of possibility for (‘zoopoetic’) attempts at virtually shifting (and so adopting other) perspectives, the applicative part will be briefer.120 The present approach being altogether tentative, heuristic, and experimental, a substantial quantity of comparable and contrastive investigations would surely be requisite and desirable; hence may be delegated to further research with good reason.121 In said sense—meaning, qua preparatory groundwork—the ensuing aims at offering hypothetical hints or signals as might conduce to further corroboration, revision, variation, modification, scholarly redargution; clearly also ex negativo, considering the hardly unlikely case that what is here given in an exploratory manner should not seem plausible to certain discursive tendencies. On several occasions and in different genres, Blumenberg dedicates himself to animal narratives. Not seldom, the contexts are epistemological. The present subchapter concerns a mélange of fifteen ‘zoopoetic’ miniatures—published in the literary magazine Akzente, during the philosopher’s later, increasingly essayistic period. Throughout, attentive readers will be facing artful variations; for instance, of an Aesopianizing basic situation—“wolf and lamb” at the creek, though not always also with the predictable upshots (as the subtitle insinuates: “and more than one ending”, “Wolf” 18; trans. dsm).122 Ten essais (§1–3, 5, 8–9, 11, 13–15) proceed from agno-lupine constellations more or less directly.123 Another five (§4, 6–7, 10, 12) may be reckoned as having affinities therewith (sensu lato). Some gloss, amplify, emulate prior versions: inter alia, Medieval ones (“Wolf” 20–21, §6–7); two on Lessing’s (“Wolf” 22–24, §9–10), one on Schopenhauer’s part (“Wolf” 24–25, §11).124 Certain cases are not

|| 120 The term “zoopoetics” appears to be Derrida’s (cf. “Animal” 374). 121 In this respect, a particularly illuminating reading of Petrarca’s eighth sonnet (Canzoniere 20–21, VIII) is provided by Kablitz (see Kunst 121–146; spec. 125–126; 134–135; 137–138; 142). As to rhetorical ventriloquism, he observes: “Tiere sind es, die hier das Wort ergreifen und es wie Menschen führen” (Kunst 134). Regarding virtual vicariousness, he notes a “wechselseitige[…] Vertauschung der Perspektiven” (Kunst 135; “die völlige Austauschbarkeit aller Rollen”, 137). 122 As these are essays, Blumenberg points to Aesop, abstains from further (bibliographical) references (“Wolf” passim). The Ancient fables are extant in Greek (see Babrius 110–111, §89) or Latin versions (Phaedrus 190–193, I.1). In the latter, the agno-lupine tale has a spec. place qua opening miniature. While not showing a tendency of transferring to further variations, the meta- or supra-discourse is forensic, in both cases. This holds good for the Phaedric epimýthion (“qui fictis causis innocentes opprimunt”, 192, I.1.15); for terms in the fable itself: “incitatus iurgii causam intulit” (190, I.1.4); “iniusta” (192, I.1.13). Comparably in Babrius: “ἔγκλημα δ’ ἔχθρης εὐπρόσωπον ἐζήτει”; “κἂν εὐχερῶς μου πᾶσαν αἰτίην λύσῃς” (110, §89, v.3 and v.12). 123 The essais have subheadings in the source, but are not numbered; such are added, herein. 124 On Medieval modulations, cf. the materials appended in Perry’s ed. (538–539, §595; 585,

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only hypoleptic (like all), but also more manifestly Blumenbergian variations (to all appearances: “Wolf” 18–20, §1–5; 21, §8; 25, §12; 26–27, §14–15).125 A descriptive approach will note that these—and comparably multifaceted— narratives can never be read sans the ‘surface’: “literal meaning formulates the conditions for any figurative construction” (Nichols “Auerbach” 168). The facile objection that fables are ‘merely’ allegorizations—wherefore the respective animals are being ‘instrumentalized’ (not to say ‘reified’)—is as rife as inapplicable. Not only has the dread of rhetoric (always fashionable in radically self-enlightened circles) never aided a clear head; as excessive ‘compassion’, it will tend to atrophy any sense for sober scholarship.126 Contextually significant structures—notably narratives attentive to their own facture—induce readings in sensu litterali, even where the emphasis may appear to be predominantly theoretical (epistemological, tropological), hence on aspects of human culture. The above may be demonstrated by recourse to any random sentence giving the “basic stock of th[at] fabled pair of wolf and lamb” (“Wolf” 23, §10). For instance, this variant on Blumenberg’s part: “The lamb came to the little creek and found the wolf there. They stood next to each other and drank. Neither of them wished to muddy the other’s waters” (“Wolf” 26, §15; trans. dsm).127 Anybody of minimal literacy—and, if read out by proxy, even someone as yet analphabetic—cannot but see these animals in their “mind’s eye” (Shakespeare Ham [2nd] 173, I.i.115; 191, I.ii.185; plus 191n.). There is no reasonable way to || §688; plus 569–570, §655–655a). Elsewhere, Blumenberg logs: “Die Fabel wie ihre Adaptation […] steht […] ‘Verfeinerungen’ offen, etwa wie Luther der äsopischen Fabel von Wolf und Lamm die für die genuine Gattung ganz deplacierte Überschrift ‘Haß’ geben wird” (Lachen 33). See his pertinent caveat as to “wie nahe Tiervergleich und Mordlizenz beieinander liegen” (Löwen 79). 125 The thirteenth essai offers a hybrid case (“Wolf” 25–26, §13). Generally, one might allocate it to those of a spec. Blumenbergian color. Needless to say, the present attempt at ordering is entirely tentative, heuristic. For all of the miniatures convey the philosopher’s nuanced take (by virtue of their dispositio, not least); i.e. also in those instances, where he is—apparently or largely—paraphrasing his sources, rather than proceeding to free variation quasi immediately. 126 Cf. Blumenberg’s accent: “Rhetorik lehrt, Rhetorik zu erkennen” (“Annäher. [2001]” 423). Spec. with Niehues-Pröbsting: “Gegen Rhetorik hilft nur Rhetorik” (“Ethos” 345). See V. Kahn (Prudence 157; 181); the onset of ch. 8, as well as subchs. 11.1.3 and 13.1, herein. 127 “Grundbestand des Fabelpaares Wolf und Lamm” (“Wolf” 23, §10). “Das Lamm kam ans Flüßchen und fand dort den Wolf. Sie standen nebeneinander und tranken. Keiner mochte dem anderen das Wässerchen trüben” (“Wolf” 26, §15). Referring to the liquid element, Blumenberg uses the diminutive twice; hence ‘rivulet’, ‘little water’. The latter is part of a (German) idiom (‘kein Wässerchen trüben können’, sc. ‘being utterly innocuous’), whose English equivalent seems similar, while not exactly the same. The philosopher is taking it in a literal and figurative sense simultaneously: ‘actually render turbid the other’s water’ (not only by treading or saliva, but potentially by blood and gore); ‘cause turbulences or annoyance for someone else’.

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spirit away the signifieds, and therewith their actual references, as remembered by the respective recipient.128 The aforesaid scene—with the basic attributes ‘location’, ‘encounter’, ‘action’—is of momentaneous evidentia. “For its watering place[,] the wolf selected those spots along the riverbank, where grass was growing most lushly, densely, and green” (“Wolf” 18, §2; trans. dsm): just as one will hardly be able to fend off the aquatically amoenous image emerging before one’s inner eye, so is it quasi unthinkable that the reader of such narrative miniatures will visualize no lamb and no wolf. Even the latter phrase, which—in isolation, from a strictly logical angle—would appear to negate both, could not prevent said effect. Withal, there always is the context. When perusing the (poly-performatively contradictory) sentence “I no longer talk to wolves, before they eat me” (“Wolf” 20, §5; trans. dsm), the word implying incisive—and expressing consumptive— action will, downright inescapably, be allocated to the predator.129 Any reading cannot but be literal, initially. Even should one choose to leave that plane, it still grounds whatever follows, lingering ineluctably in a reader’s mind. Structurally, this may well resemble the act of appresenting another’s body—and, by implication, the attendance of a respective interior—in a (factual, virtual) encounter: only the former is vivid; everything else hypothetical. In order to arrive at the root of the vicarious matter, the fourth miniature will suggest itself from a rhetorical—and specifically metapoetical—viewpoint.130 Above and beyond the aforesaid mammals, Blumenberg characteristically pluralizes the (otherwise dualistic) scene by introducing “[t]wo beetles” (“Wolf” 19, §4; trans. dsm).131 Precisely these insects articulate the process of shifting

|| 128 Assuming that any human of a certain age is (highly) likely to have seen these animals at least in virtuality, typically in fact too (if captively); formerly, also in most everybody’s (daily) lifeworld—or even in the wild. Young children would be able to appresent a doglike animal, melded with features from depictions (painted on a cave wall). The point being: it is practically impossible not to conjure up (from memory, for oneself and others) some image of the lifeforms in question, when hearing or reading the resp. words, signs (in whichever known language). Even in the case of concepts referring to entities as have never been seen by any human, the mind will supply a (noetico-virtual) ‘thing’—and at least certain aspects of relative vividness. 129 “Ich rede nicht mehr mit Wölfen, bevor sie mich fressen”. 130 In this respect, one might likewise have recourse to the ninth essai—which ties in with Lessing, and tenders the suggestive title “Stellungswechsel” (“Wolf” 22–23, §9; here: 22). 131 “Zwei Käfer”. In addition to lambs (resp. sheep) and wolves (as well their ‘whelps’, “Wolf” 19, §3), Blumenberg’s fifteen miniatures also feature the following animals (partly sans actually appearing on the scene): “Käfer” (“Wolf” 19, §4); “Kranich”, “Fuchs” (“Wolf” 23, §10); “Kuh” (“Wolf” 25, §13); “Löwe”, “Rind”, “Schlange” (“Wolf” 27, §15); and human beings (cf. “Wolf” 19,

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positions and taking perspectives by virtue of something like an intratextual ‘mise en abyme du dispositif’.132 The narrative framework reads as follows: Two beetles climbed the height of a blade of grass, in order to gain more insight into their situation by way of this outlook. From the top of the stalk[,] they saw the wolf far afield, the lamb nearby. (“Wolf” 19, §4; trans. dsm)133

The literal plane cannot be discounted. As regards readerly appresentation, the structural comparability of a tactile, notably a visual access to the environment is stressed. This will enable humans to establish a provisional relation to the state of play—hypothetically construing the insectile conduct; tentatively seeing the world from the angle of the beetles. The possibility of this vicarious process is not impeded by their factual absence to sight and touch (on the contrary). A capacity for contingency liberates from the constraints of immediacy. It is characteristic for Blumenberg’s rhetorico-philosophical écriture that what has just been elicited for the meta-narrative, recipient-related plane is simultaneously insinuated, even enacted, intratextually—seeing that the insects perform precisely the proxying procedure as will inevitably (if tacitly) take place in any reader appresenting the scene. One of the beetles concentrates exclusively on the wolf, perceiving (from an insectile perspective) its corporeal enormity, the direction of its movements. In consequence thereof, it formulates a fear-induced hypothesis: I am afraid, said the younger beetle, that this terrible monster over there might come here and devastate everything. What shall become of us then? (“Wolf” 19, §4; trans. dsm)134

At the verbal plane, the deictico-oppositive pairing of ‘over there’ and ‘here’ will indicate the occurrence of a shift in stance (as in Husserl’s comparably spatial analyses). Virtually putting itself in the wolf’s paws (if not the maw) appears to be a downright pragmatic technique for assessing the beetle’s own condition. || §4; 20–21, §6–7; 24–25, §11). Withal, the philosopher incorporates this etymological pun on conceptual history: “Lykischer Zynismus […] wölfische Hundsgemeinheit” (“Wolf” 23, §10). 132 For the concept and application of a performative “mise en abyme du discours” (mutatis mutandis), see Küpper (Discursive 330; plus 362, 364, 373; “Universalismus” 443; Schweigen 4); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 3n.; 12, 12n.; 17n.; 41; 117; 171n.; 173n.; 185n.; 198n.); as well as subchs. 5.1.2, 5.2 (spec. 5.2.2), and 13.4.2, herein. 133 “Zwei Käfer erstiegen die Höhe eines Grashalms, um sich durch Ausblick mehr Einblick in ihre Lage zu verschaffen. Von der Spitze des Halms aus sahen sie in der Ferne den Wolf, in der Nähe das Lamm” (“Wolf” 19, §4). 134 “Ich habe Angst, sagte der jüngere Käfer, daß dieses schreckliche Untier da hinten hierherkommen und alles verwüsten könnte. Was soll da aus uns werden?”.

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The sole—politico-rhetorical—conduct still more expedient than argument ‘also on the other side’ will be a pluralization of the latter.135 By an especially fortunate coincidence, said bug is precisely not a singular phenomenon; but actually in the presence of another, particularly conspecific animal. This is evinced not least in that one is speaking the same (insectile) language; and that one seems to be in a similar situation, viewing a given state of affairs (if slightly offset in space). Even so, its fellow beetle draws rather different conclusions from the scene: You should think of the lamb, rejoined the older beetle. It is already here and grazing hard by. It looks harmless and friendly. But it feeds all day long, to become a sheep. Almost inevitably[,] it will also reach our stalk and take no notice of the fact that we are sitting on it and have no nutritional value for lambs. (“Wolf” 19, §4; trans. dsm)136

Like the younger, the older insect perceives its (moving) environment as having a bearing on its own situation, and relates a ‘still there’ to its current ‘here’. By recourse to plain, empirical evidence, the lamb is appresented as a herbivorous lifeform. While differing in degree, this will make that sheep to-be all the more like their insectile selves, insofar as feeding habits are concerned (assuming for the moment that a human reader is facing a phytophagous species of beetle).137 The immediate effect of having appresented the wolf’s size (gargantuan even at some distance, in an insect’s perception) had disengaged the younger bug from the presence of an already much more proximate animal. Based on contingency, perspective taking is subject thereto, as well. Provisionally, the older beetle not only sees the world with the lamb’s eyes. It also adopts the viewpoint of its stalk-fellow, in order to urge the greater exigency—and therewith the makeshift appresentation—of what is close at leg: “I had not thought of that, the younger beetle was compelled to concede” (“Wolf” 19, §4; trans. dsm).138

|| 135 Cf. Quintilian: “Quaestio latius intellegitur omnis de qua in utramque partem vel in plures dici credibiliter potest” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 156, 3.11.1; 40–41, 3.5.5; 490–491, 5.13.44); subch. 8.4. 136 “Du solltest an das Lamm denken, erwiderte der ältere Käfer. Es ist schon hier und grast ganz in der Nähe. Es sieht harmlos und freundlich aus. Aber es frißt den ganzen Tag, um ein Schaf zu werden. Fast unvermeidlich wird es auch unseren Halm erreichen und keine Notiz davon nehmen, daß wir darauf sitzen und keinen Nährwert für Lämmer haben”. 137 By way of empirico-inductive appresentation, the bug perceives that—while the lamb is on a vegan diet (for gastric reasons)—it clearly does not spurn supplemental fare, seeing as it does not appear to avoid devouring such foreign (particularly insectile) bodies, as might ‘in- and accidentally’ (“beiläufig”, “zufällig”) stray into its gazpacho (“Wolf” 19, §4). 138 “Daran habe ich nicht gedacht, mußte der jüngere Käfer zugeben”. Cf. “Die Umwege sind

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Whatever else might be understood beyond that literal plane is delegated to the respective (meaning, human) recipient. Contingency enables—and entails— a variety of deliberative practices: The detour through fictional models results in an ‘extension’ of the inferential processing of information, which is to say of decision making, due to an increase in the range of imaginable responses. (Schaeffer “Literary Studies” 278)139

12.4 Narrative ‘zoo-poiéseis’ qua Hypothetical Turns Towards an Other’s ‘Inside’ Nebenbei sieht man, welch gewaltige Errungenschaft […] der Konjunktiv ist. —Blumenberg (Löwen 10)140

In potentia (or noetic praxis), any human seems competent to conceive of, and convey, the chance, take, or fact that aspects and matters—including its own— may well be else (or even not at all). With respect to other animalia, a capacity for reckoning with contingency might be the distinctive characteristic of the one specifically concerned. Said faculty (and facility) marks the conditio sine qua non for tentatively adopting various perspectives—including the viewpoints and positions of what may appear to be rather different lifeforms prima facie. On this quasi universal basis, the ensuing suggestions could be taken as the provisional yield of the chapter at hand. Where direct and immediate perception of a ‘certain’ interior is (currently, generally) unattainable, a virtual—theoreticovicarious—(re)presentation can compensate for a factually impossible one. If inand reverse sides are not (respectively, never) visible or tangible, ‘auxiliary constructions’ might step in—conceiving a probable image of what is (as well as || es, die der Intersubjektivität ihre Bedeutung über die Konstitution theoretischer Objektivität hinaus verleihen. Jeder hat für jeden, den Voraussetzungen nach, etwas in pectore, was nur er herauszugeben vermag und wodurch er Anspruch auf das erwirbt, was der andere seinerseits auf seinem Weg ad notam genommen hat. Weshalb sonst sind für uns, diesseits oder jenseits aller theoretischen Objektivationen, nur die Einzigkeiten der Einzelnen kennenswert? Sogar die erfundenen Existenzen der epischen Literatur […] sind topographisch Nutzungen faktisch ungenutzter oder als solcher nicht beschriebener Umwege” (Sorge 137–138). 139 As to deliberation and contingency, see also subchs. 3.7, 4.1, and 4.2, herein. 140 “Incidentally one discerns just how potent an achievement the subjunctive is” (trans. dsm). This factor is decisive with regard to the above readings. By contrast: “Die äsopische Fabel kennt den Konjunktiv nicht, und erst recht duldet sie keine psychologischen Finessen” (Sorge 10; plus 33). Poetico-hermeneutic perspective taking not only ‘knows’ the former, but is conditional upon it; ‘refinements’ are to be sakely.

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remains) beyond; and likewise for the presumed ‘inwardness’ of an (envisioned or factual) body.141 In narrative or affine modes, a poetic fiction could take the place of a constitutive inaccessibility, quasi ‘filling’—or even ‘animating’—it.142 Also in ethical respects, the decisive factor will be that such a process does not imply a displacement of some prior ‘substance’—nor a preceding emptiness, for that matter. Even so, something may well change in the recipient: “increased awareness constitutes the ‘moral’ effect of literature” (Trimpi Muses 381).143 When a conceivable writer (poet, playwright) ascribes a variety of (human) words and deeds to an imagined (or palpable) dog—in a dialog or drama, say— nothing is imposed upon, nor taken away from, said animal (or any other).144 Liberty is preserved—for all of the involved.145

|| 141 Adapting Fontane’s formulation (“‘Hilfskonstruktionen’”, “Effi” 294, §35) with a view to the present, rhetorical context. See subch. 10.4. Generally, subch. 11.3 (spec. 11.3.4), herein. 142 Needless to say, the mimetic (re)enactment of another’s (previously perceived) conduct might also offer heuristic insights into its potential ‘workings’; or conceivable rationale. The function and effectuality of (quasi) dramatic appresentation can only be insinuated here; and must be delegated to the diligence of further research. 143 The inverted commas will be read as a caveat against moralizing. Concerning the latter’s consummate inexpediency, cf. Blumenberg: “Wie so oft im Fabelwesen scheint die Moral von der Geschichte weit entfernt von dem, was man erwartet” (Sorge 7). See Alford’s apt declaration of independence from so-called ‘ecocriticism’ “in particular” (Poetic Attention 324n.; plus 277): “where some […] have jumped from the cultivation of attention to an assertion that cultivating attention leads necessarily to moral improvement, I part ways” (Poetic Attention 276). An added accent may well fall on that “necessarily”. With general pertinence, she adds: “being more ‘finely aware’ […] might serve other ends as well—such as becoming better at manipulating others by observing and anticipating their reactions” (Poetic Attention 276). See ch. 13, herein. 144 As to rhetorical ventriloquism with respect to animals, cf. Mayfield (Ventriloquism 17, 17n.; 19; 27–28, 28n.–29n.; 39n.; 56n.; 176n.–177n.; 196; “Against” 1; 12n.; 18, 18n.; 19n.; 21, 21n.). 145 In this regard, see the sound nuances in Kablitz (Kunst 142; plus 126; Petrarca Canzoniere 20–21, VIII.5–6). Cf. the onset of ch. 7, herein.

�� Virtuosity and Effectuality Literary Techniques of Manipulation In allem Tun und Hervorbringen des Menschen dem Vernunft- und Wertgehalt nachzugehen – das war das Ziel von Aristoteles’ universaler Forschung. —Curtius (156)1 Sobald das schwierige Wesen namens Mensch involviert ist, komplizieren sich die Dinge. —Küpper (“Einige Bemerkungen” 27)2

The affinity, reciprocity, rivalry of téchne and týche is Ancient.3 By recourse to a persona in one of his teacher’s dramatic dialogs, Aristotle plausibly maintains: “‘experience produces art [‘ἡ μὲν γὰρ ἐμπειρία τέχνην ἐποίησην’], but inexperience chance [‘ἡ δ’ ἀπειρία τύχην’]’” (Polus, cited at Met. 1–9. 4–5, 981a, I.i.5; see 5n.).4 One implication—inter alia—may well be that the casual is partly of human make. Technical innocence conduces to accidents.5 �� 1 “To keep track of the rational and valuative import in all of man’s doing and producing – that was the aim of Aristotle’s universal research” (trans. dsm). 2 “As soon as th[at] difficult being by the name of [‘]human[’] is involved, things become more complicated” (trans. dsm). 3 Cf. spec. subchs. 3.3, 3.5, 3.6, 4.1, and 4.3, herein. 4 See the onset of ch. 4. In Plato: “experience conducts the course of our life according to art [‘κατὰ τέχνην’], but inexperience according to chance [‘κατὰ τύχην’]” (“Gorgias” 262–263, 448C; cf. 310–311, 462C). See Lausberg (Elemente 25n.–26n.). With the contrastive paronomasía of týche and téchne—quasi habitual in Antiquity—it will hardly be by chance that Aristotle’s textual milieu mirrors the method in the verbal surface of “Πῶλος”, “πολλῶν”; that he cites with approval (“ὀρθῶς λέγων”, Met. 1–9. 4, 981a, I.i.5) precisely the persona as does not come off well in Plato’s dramatic dialog (Lamb qualifies “Polus” as “immature”, “headstrong, easily trapped”, typified by “thoughtless vanity”: “Intro. Gorgias” 255; “arrogant”, 252). Given this tacit revaluation, the dispositio of Aristotle’s next remark could amount to a harshly adequate analysis of his teacher—indirectly present via ventriloquism (as in the latter’s own works): “if a man has theory without experience, and knows the universal, but does not know the particular contained in it, he will often fail in his treatment; for it is the particular that must be treated” (Met. 1–9. 5, 981a, I.i.9). Plato’s Sicilian escapades cannot but come to mind. D. Laertius’ resp. comments are downright abysmal (likely, by accident): “The third time he came to reconcile Dion and Dionysius, but, failing to do so [‘οὐ τύχὼν’], returned to his own country without achieving anything [‘ἄπρακτος’]”—i.e. not even getting himself sold into slavery (first visit to Sicily); or potentially instigating a revolution (second); “there he refrained from meddling with politics, although his writings show that he was a statesman. The reason was that the people had already been accustomed to measures and institutions quite different from his own” (Lives I. 296–297, III.23; plus 292–297, III.18–23). The latter may yield an involuntarily comical note. 5 Characteristically tongue-in-cheek, Marquard asserts: “Planung ist – jedenfalls häufig – Fortsetzung des Chaos unter Verwendung anderer Mittel” (Abschied 85). See subch. 3.3, herein. Open Access. © 2020 DS Mayfield, published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-013

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Generally speaking, said animal is able to convey its involvement. Artifice against accident: in Gorgias, ‘téchne’ counters ‘týche’.6 Like much else in his deft orations, this will come to more than a ‘mere’ play on words, and with sounds. As Valéry and Jakobson perceive, there tends to be an interplay or simultaneity of ‘son et sens’.7 Contingencies—also linguistic ones—are to be exploited.8 With another playwright he often quotes, Aristotle insinuates that even the most consummate craft can never entirely obliterate fortune: “we have to do some things by art [‘τέχνῃ’], while others fall to our lot by compulsion [‘ἀνάγκῃ’] or chance [‘τύχῃ’]” (Agathon, as per Rhet. 268–269, 1392b, II.xix.13).9 In a quasi Heraclitean manner, contingency might seem (tantamount to) an inevitability. Much remains coincidental in the world of men. Along with millennia of ‘whistling in the dark’—perhaps not the worst option—there is a good (or raw) deal of blind groping, before any yield may be reached provisionally; or seem to be grasped.10 With the benefit (or handicap) of hindsight, “sheer contingency” (Rorty Contingency 22) could well-nigh commence to look like Providence.11 || 6 Cf. “the entanglements of chance [‘τύχης ἀγρεύμασιν’], not the premeditations of planning [‘γνώμης βουλεύμασιν’], […] the compulsions of love [‘ἔρωτος ἀνάγκαις’], not the preparations of art [‘τέχνης παρασκευαῖς’]” (“Helen” 760–761, 49.19). ‘Chance’, ‘necessity’ are parallel; as is deliberation, craftfulness. Via this twofold antithesis, ‘týche’ is (indirectly) opposed to ‘téchne’. 7 Valéry’s celebrated line: “Le poème — cette hésitation prolongée entre le son et le sens” (“Rhumbs” 637). See Jakobson: “Any attempts to confine such poetic conventions as meters, alliteration, or rhyme to the sound level are speculative reasonings without any empirical justification. The projection of the equational principle into the sequence has a much deeper and wider significance. Valéry’s view of poetry as ‘hesitation between the sound and the sense’ is much more realistic and scientific than any bias of phonetic isolationism” (“Linguistics” 81). “Whatever the relation between sound and meaning in different rhyme techniques, both spheres are necessarily involved” (“Linguistics” 82). In application, he logs the technique of “mak[ing] the sound into a thorough echo of the sense” (“Linguistics” 88). Cf. subch. 13.4.2. 8 See subch. 4.3, herein; and Rorty (as per “Nietzsche”): “poets […] appreciate contingency”; in lieu of “trying to escape from contingency[,] […] poet[s] […] acknowledg[e] and appropriat[e] contingency” (Contingency 28; infinitized; with 40). The context cum grano salis. 9 As to “achiev[ing] by method the result commonly attained by chance [‘quod casu fieri solet etiam ratione perducet’]”, cf. Quintilian (with: “fortuna interim praestat”, Inst. Orat. 3–5. 348– 349, 5.7.29; and Lausberg Handbuch 192–193, §354). 10 See subch. 13.5; plus Melville: “Nature made me blind and would have kept me so. My oculist counterplotted her” (Confidence-Man 114, §21; cf. the end: 251, §45). On the prior option, Lee: “The Confidence-Man […] sees mankind as endlessly whistling in the philosophic dark and the dupe of false panaceas, beliefs and millennial credos” (145). With Burke: “like loving a pleasant dream […]. For it reads well [sc. Emerson’s Nature]. […] Even in those days, […] both he and Whitman suspected that they might be whistling in the dark. But they loved the gesture (if whistling is a gesture)—and it is an appealing gesture” (“I, Eye, Ay” 155, III). Ça dépend. 11 Cf. Melville (Confidence-Man 250–251, §45). Harth on Valéry (93–94). As to an “Überhöhung

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Not in vain is man a marauder, with a particular gusto for ‘preying on causalities’.12 Nor is wolfing said shifty animal’s only option: should there—just so—happen to be no grounds, they might be crafted reynardly.13 Cultivating illusions may yield the impression of controlling them to boot.14 To that end, any thought or thing will ultimately do, so long as it bears up against the tempests, the tidal waves of time—for that being.15 One cannot even be immersed in (hence submerged by) the same flood twice; for the excellent reason that said animal is ever already within an overwhelming deluge of data and details: “delivered up to […] the contingency of an experience procuring material” on end (Bubner Antike Themen 107; trans. dsm).16 If arriving at some other side is seen as a functional fiction, so be it.17 Wrought by man it remains.18

|| von Kontingenz durch die Annahme höherer Notwendigkeit”, see Küpper (“Magie” 208); plus Rohde (35n.). Not incidentally, it is a Neo-Skeptic, who notes “a disposition to use the language of our ancestors, to worship the corpses of their metaphors” (Rorty Contingency 21; cf. 9, 22, 69; Sextus Empiricus Pyrrhonism 16–17, I.xi.23, 16n.; 138–139, I.xxxiii.226; 146–147, I.xxxiv.237; Nietzsche “Wahrheit [KSA 1]” 880–881, §1). Rorty suggests “see[ing] one’s language, one’s conscience, once’s morality, and one’s highest hopes as contingent products, as literalizations of what once were accidentally produced metaphors” (Contingency 61). For “historical contingencies […] filled our minds with the words and beliefs they presently contain” (relativism 14; plus 119–120, 188, 189n., 192). Naturally (sc. humanly), chance and design could come down to being—or to have been—the same (all along). 12 With Lichtenberg, Blumenberg observes: “Der Wissenstrieb […] macht den Menschen zum ‘Ursachen-Tier’” (Legitimität 499; cf. 500, citing from the ensuing). “Wenn andere Thiere lediglich mit Trieben und Kräften ausgerüſtet ſind, die bloß auf Erhaltung und Fortpflanzung des Geſchlechts abzwecken, ſo beſitzt dieſes ſeltſame Geſchöpf über Alles das noch einige, von denen man nicht ſo ganz deutlich begreift, wo ſie eigentlich hinaus wollen. Unter andern einen Trieb Verhältniſſe aufzuſuchen, die es Urſachen nennt, und ſich um eine Menge von Dingen zu bekümmern, die es auf der Gotteswelt nichts anzugehen ſcheinen, als etwa weil es da für das U r ſ a c h e n - T h i e r , Urſachen zu jagen gibt, wozu dasſelbe durch eine Art geiſtiſchen Hungers, die Neugierde, beſtändig angeſpornt wird” (Lichtenberg “Betrachtungen” 58–59). 13 Not incidentally, Lichtenberg will continue as follows: “Wo geht denn, muß auch der Unbefangenſte, der den Menſchen beobachtet, fragen, die Reiſe hin, für welche er ſo ſammelt? […] weiß er ſelbſt nicht was er thut, indem er Urſachen jagt, wie z. B. der Schmetterling der Weidenraupe nicht weiß warum er ſeine Eyer auf die Weide legt, um die er ſich ſonſt nicht bekümmert?” (“Betrachtungen” 59–60). Apparently, inductive observations like the latter cannot but conduce to beliefs in a beyond—spec. the Egyptian (hence Judeo-Christian) forms of ‘ongoingness’ (in a similar, or other shape). 14 Cf. Nietzsche (“Geburt [KSA 1]” 56–57, §7); plus Blumenberg (Die nackte Wahrheit 16). 15 See Blumenberg (Schiffbruch 66–69); with Waszynski (“Berührbarkeit” 66–67, 66n.; 76). 16 Cf. Gen 9:11 and 9:15; plus Heracleitus (qtd. in: Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker I. 154, 22B12; 161, 22B49a). See also subch. 11.1.1, herein. 17 Pace Blumenberg (Sachen 12; Quellen 103; with 106; but cf. Vollzählig. 535). As Gamper logs

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Not only deeper—men also dig higher, further. Pertinently, Lichtenberg points to “certain military roads on Malta that[,] despite the beautiful tracks, which one perceives in the rocks, in the end lead straightway out into the blue” (“Betrachtungen” 59; trans. dsm).19 The same could be said for staircases in the cliffs, or elsewhere (not to mention pyramids): “belief ‘creates’ its object” (Schaeffer “Literary Studies” 272). The scientist’s inference amounts to a tacit mise en abyme of his preceding hypothesis that ‘men are driven to seek causes’: “For the areas of the rocks, whereto these streets led, are no longer there” (Lichtenberg “Betrachtungen” 59; trans. dsm).20 Mayhap, they never were (speaking kathólou). For humans will do virtually aught to (self-)induce—hence have—‘reason(s)’ to believe.21 Hewing windows, erecting doors, wording pathways into nowhere would hardly be beyond said animal. It is urged, impelled to advance plus ultra (even whither it never could): for men as a rule [‘ὡς γὰρ ἐπὶ τὸ πολύ’], whenever they can [‘ἂν δύνωνται’], do [‘ποιοῦσιν’] those things which they long for [‘ὧν ὀρέγονται’][.] (Rhet. 270–271, 1392b, II.xix.19)22

Also—or especially—in cases where they are currently unable; or nowise might. In always more than one sense, téchne and týche can seem interchangeable. Under certain—meaning, human—conditions, this could be the point precisely. (Re)producing accidents—crafting ostensive coincidences, imitating, exploiting courses of chance—has proven expedient for millennia.23 In a world sheerly ruled by fors, this verisimilar technique marks culture’s fundamentum in re.24

|| (at “Das Neue schreiben” 134), Lichtenberg freely declares: “Um den Menschen nützliche Wahrheiten zu predigen ist alles erlaubt” (Sudelbücher I. 755, J.713). Upon reading this, Nietzsche might have replied: ‘expedient ones indeed’ (with “Genealogie [KSA 5]” 399, III.24). 18 Cf. Küpper (“Philology” 147). On ‘sola humana arte’, see subch. 11.1, herein. 19 “wie mit einigen Heerſtraßen zu Malta, die trotz der ſchönen Gleiſen, die man in dem Felſen gewahr wird, am Ende gerade hinaus ins Blaue führen”. 20 “Die Gegenden des Felſen nähmlich, wo dieſe Straßen hinführten, ſind nicht mehr da”. 21 By its needs, humankind is primed for being deceived: “w a r u m erkennen? warum nicht lieber sich täuschen? … was man wollte, war immer der Glaube, — und n i c h t die Wahrheit…” (Nietzsche KSA 13. 446–447, 15[58]; see KSA 12. 76, 2[24]). Cf. Maestro (“Metafísica” 345n.); Alford (Poetic Attention 27 plus 285n.); Mayfield (Artful 402; with context). The decisive question remains: cui bono. See subchs. 3.1, 11.2.2; and the onset of ch. 4, herein. 22 Sundry settings bear out Aristotle’s observation; cf. subchs. 4.4, 6.6.1.1, 9.1–2, 11.1.2, herein. 23 See the onsets of chs. 7 and 8, herein. 24 Cf. subch. 5.1.1, herein; as well as Blumenberg (mutatis mutandis): “Kontingenzkultur […] [ist] geprägt von dem Grundgedanken, daß nicht sein muß, was ist” (Sorge 57; plus 59, 60).

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Structurally, mímesis remains the functional source or soil of art.25 For the latter to be possible at all, there must be matter to begin with; and this subject to otherwiseness (as it is). Sans mutability being the case always already, an active, targeted, purposive participation of such as also partake thereof would be out of the question rather precisely: not even conceivable. With the aforesaid poet, Aristotle observes that—“in a sense [‘τρόπον τινὰ’]”—“Art deals with the same objects as chance [‘περὶ τὰ αὐτά ἐστιν ἡ τύχη καὶ ἡ τέχνη’]”; in the words of “Agathon”: τέχνη τύχην ἔστερξε καὶ τύχη τέχνην. Chance is beloved of Art, and Art of Chance. (NE 334–335, 1140a, VI.iv.5)26

By contrast, need and necessity (not to mention eternity) will hardly meet with such affection; or else, reciprocation is unlikely. Love of fate comes down to a human kind of encroachment—it being far from clear, who is violating whom.27

|| 25 See Aristotle (“Poetics” 28–29, 1447a, §1; 34–35, 1448a, §3; 36–39, 1448b, §4; passim). 26 Cf. Bacon (Advancement 124, 124n., II). Incidentally, Machiavelli’s ensuing nexus: “la sorte o altro aggiramento humano” (Lettere 373, letter to Vettori of Jan 31, 1515, §163; with Pitkin 115). 27 On ‘amor fati’, cf. subchs. 9.1 and 9.4, herein. For the love of Fortune, see Machiavelli’s deliberate provocation (Principe 167, XXV.26). Generally, Marquard observes: “Der Weg führt vom Fatum zum Faktum, vom Schicksal zum Machsal” (Abschied 67).

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13.1 For the Love of Human Craft non caelum, sed artes. —Blumenberg, condensing Bacon (GKW I. 55)28

In an essay entitled “Mihi ipsi scripsi”, a philosopher of contingency dreams up, and eloquently elaborates on, some writer’s auto-reception in vivo: In a euphoric fit of megalomania, I let the imagined author experience how a telegram arrives at his house, [stating] that just now one half of humankind […] had bought that [sc. his] book and, [this being] verified demoscopically, had also read it (in the case of analphabetism[:] had someone read it to them). […] the author will experience a moment of consummate bliss. Or of ‘almost’ consummate [bliss]. For something remains irritating, which will not permit its being pushed out of the way[,] and which gradually articulates itself in a dreadful question[:] half of humankind – fine; but please: what is the other half doing? (Blumenberg Lebensthemen 68; trans. dsm)29

Given the technological possibilities of a new millennium, such lusting for data will hardly be out of the ordinary. The digital world serves, enables, caters to the arithmetic habits, cravings, needs, proclivities of its makers, clients, users, bystanders. Entirely modelled by human beings, a virtualized globe is host to viral quantifying frenzies, which have long brought Blumenberg’s sheer dream of unreason to autocatalytic fruition.30 It is only natural. Mindful that matters might be otherwise(d), these animals must—and will—push any perceived frontier into an ever receding beyond.31 They know no dread; save that mayhap the world’s resistance to their insatiable desires could be but temporary.32 No more foolish wish than a fulfillable one. || 28 “not heaven, but the arts” (trans. dsm). With Bacon’s context: “non solum, non coelum, non corpora, sed artes praestant” (Novum Organum 268, I.129; 222 in Spedding/Ellis/Heath). 29 “In einem euphorischen Anfall von Megalomanie lasse ich den gedachten Autor erleben, wie ihm das Telegramm ins Haus kommt, gerade habe die Hälfte der Menschheit […] jenes Buch erworben und, demoskopisch gesichert, auch gelesen (im Fall des Analphabetismus sich vorlesen lassen). […] der Autor [‘wird’] einen Moment des vollkommenen Glücks erfahren. Oder doch des ‘fast’ vollkommenen. Denn da bohrt noch etwas, das sich nicht abdrängen lassen will und sich allmählich zu einer schrecklichen Frage artikuliert. Die Hälfte der Menschheit – gut; aber bitte: Was macht die andere Hälfte?” (Lebensthemen 68; with 67–69). Cf. Küpper:“was alle Autoren wollen […][—]beim intendierten Publikum Resonanz erzielen” (“Denken” 262n.). 30 On ‘sola humana arte’, see subch. 11.1; for Goya’s (refunctionalized) dictum, 5.2.1, herein. 31 Concerning the human ‘plus ultra’, cf. subchs. 4.4, 6.6.1.1, 9.1, 9.2, 11.1.2, 11.1.3, herein. 32 Blumenberg stresses: “An Weltlichkeit verliert, was unseren Wünschen nicht widersteht” (Beschreibung 679; see 589; and Realität 49; 128); “das Vogliamo tutto […] [‘bleibt’] der geheime Antrieb zum Unmöglichen” (Arbeit 77; cf. Lesbarkeit no pag., fm, ‘Über dieses Buch’).

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In all probability, said fear is unwarranted, if not gratuitous. After all, the universe known to man has dependably disproven any and all presumptions of—or prideful pretensions to—eternity. For the animal in question, a realm of sheer contingency is indeed the best world possible. A higher grace, perchance: ‘πρός Χάριν’ (Valéry “Eupalinos” 79).33 Noetic experiments (such as the above) typically present egregious cases. In precisely this capacity may they point to the decisive factor in the production of ‘goods’. Itself a summa of specific outcomes, each artifact tends to be an attempt at producing effects; often, any at all. Be quantity or quality as they might: the focus on impact is a decidedly rhetorico-Sophistic stance or take. The latter will aim at reaching an audience or viewership as considerable as possible; by virtue of whichever functional means at hand; and with effectuality as the pivotal—even sole, if ulterior—criterion. Of universal application, the polytropic téchne rhetorikè proffers a protean conglomerate of multipurpose—flexible, variable, adaptable, politic—designs and devices: vicarious tools, crafted dispositions, intensive reflections, soberminded maneuvers, lateral tactics, parabolic strategies, as well as ‘words with wings’; and counting a promotion of their virtuoso employment.34 In contexts with (latent) proclivities for Enlightenment idealisms—not to mention Romanticist otherworldliness—it will certainly be deemed, or judged, more than dubious to be speaking of ‘techniques’ or ‘manipulation’ in reference to works of art. Such lack of innocence must be troubling to believers; hence its irrespective advocates diabolized outright—qua faithless corrupters of the youth (ideological intransigents being immune). Nihil novum. Exceedingly invested in technology and various forms of virtuality, the current age may seem to compensate for its losses in metaphysicis by routinely endorsing ersatz mythemes—such as ‘originality’, ‘identity’, ‘subjectivity’, ‘genius’, ‘creativity’, et μυρία caetera.35 Names change; the need remains.36

|| 33 Cf. Blüher’s gloss (in: Valéry Eupalinos [Rilke] 125n.). 34 See Homer: “ἔπεα πτερόεντα” (Odyssey 1–12. 158, 4.550; 344, 9.409; 434, 11.472; 468, 12.296); etc. Virtuosity might be described as a seemingly effortless achievement of versatile, multi-purposive effects. Blumenberg’s simple declaration—“Es gibt keinen nackten Proteus” (Die nackte Wahrheit 11)—ostensively fails to perceive the possibility that an unadorned emperor might be playing along. Cf. Mt 25:36, 25:40, 25:43, 25:45, inter alia; and subch. 13.5, herein. Then again, Blumenberg also observes: “Die vollkommene Verhüllung ist die Nacktheit selbst” (Die nackte Wahrheit 115; with 124; and Realität 75; spec. 208). 35 Generally, see Schaeffer (Art of the Modern Age passim; especially 10, 92, 96, 206, 212). 36 Cf. Blumenberg (zur Literatur 101–102); with Mayfield (Ventriloquism 96–98).

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Quarantining the quasi inevitable evidence inhering in such addictions to self, any maker’s, actor’s, architect’s, fabricator’s practice, performance, opus, production of (semiotized) artifacts will be far removed from the unworldliness intimated by the abovesaid mutations of narcissism. “For we deceive and flatter no one by virtue of such subtle [and artful] devices as ourselves” (Schopenhauer WWV I. 388, §55; trans. dsm).37 Forever tending toward tentative transcendence, human nature and its pointed yield may well be brought down to earth, once more—before the next surge of ardent zealots has another iconoclastic field day.38 “Ceterum etiam post ignis iniuriam melius renasci nulli dubium est” (Columella 132, XI.iii.7).39 Little wonder that rhetoric has always been scorned or sidelined by arrant deprecators of man and art. Predictably, such mockery or neglect will be due to technical difficulties: an inability to conceal their own investment in the craft less artlessly. A pitiful spectacle—to be treated to the same. At the other extreme, sermonizers (in their typical triteness) cannot but feel inclined to gallingly attack spectacular (or vulgar) displays of semiotic capacity as bottomless baseness—so as to set into relief their own good profile qua moral defenders of truth’s bareness (or boredom, barrenness).40 Hardly will reducing a magician’s trick to the hat—or the rabbit (not to mention the hole)—spirit away the hand factually had in the matter.41

|| 37 “Denn wir betrügen und schmeicheln Niemanden durch so feine Kunstgriffe, als uns selbst”. See Nietzsche: “der Mensch [‘lässt sich’] Nachts, ein Leben hindurch, im Traume belügen” (“Wahrheit [KSA 1]” 876, §1). “Der Mensch selbst […] hat einen unbesiegbaren Hang, sich täuschen zu lassen” (“Wahrheit [KSA 1]” 888, §2). Cf. Blumenberg (Realität 58–59; Die nackte Wahrheit 110)—referring to Locke: “‘Tis evident how much Men love to deceive, and be deceived […]. And ‘tis in vain to find fault with those Arts of Deceiving, wherein Men find pleasure to be Deceived” (508, III.x.34—Locke’s last words in said segment). Cf. subch. 13.5. 38 See Acts 9:5, 26:14; plus Isa 9:18 (Vulgate); with Schaeffer (Why Fiction? 3). 39 “but there is also no doubt that even if it [sc. vepris] has been damaged by fire, it only grows up again all the better” (131–132, XI.iii.7). Cf. Trier (149; with context). 40 See Blumenberg: “Zu den intimen Überzeugungen der europäischen Geschichte gehört, daß die Wahrheit siegt. Das ist so wenig selbstverständlich wie nur etwas, wenn man bedenkt, welches Maß an Beschreibung und Polemik aufgewendet wurde, um die rhetorischen Ablenkungen bis hin zu den Möglichkeiten der Demagogie darzustellen und vor ihnen zu warnen” (Rigorismus 91). “Was die Menschen mit Vergnügen akzeptieren, kann nicht Wahrheit sein” (Rigorismus 92; infinitized). 41 Cf. “Rhetorik [ist] nicht nur die Technik, solche [sc. ‘rhetorische’] Wirkung zu erzielen, sondern immer auch, sie durchschaubar zu halten: sie macht Wirkungsmittel bewußt, deren Gebrauch nicht eigens verordnet zu werden braucht, indem sie expliziert, was ohnehin schon getan wird” (Blumenberg “Annäher. [2001]” 412).

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Be the respective means as they might: rhetoric’s efficacy in concealing its involvement is notorious.42 Storing, sustaining, cultivating, refining, imparting, insinuating, advocating the arts of (noetic, emotional) manipulation, the téchne itself amounts to an impartial arsenal open to all. While there is no fee upon entry, its students are highly likely to come out relieved and liberated—from their preceding innocence.43 Quite apart from the question whether it may be had—and if so, what one might do therewith—truth as such is not enough. Then again, anything this versatile animal comes into contact with will eo ipso have a ‘technical’ quality.44 In Blumenberg’s words: “man […] not only ‘has’”, but “also ‘is’ work” (zur Technik 49; trans. dsm).45 There may be something like a feedback effect: “By that which he [or she] makes, [she or] he becomes, with increasing precision and stringency, what he [or she] is” (Beschreibung 588; trans. dsm).46

|| 42 See Blumenberg: “Rhetorik ist deshalb eine ‘Kunst’, weil sie ein Inbegriff von Schwierigkeiten mit der Wirklichkeit ist und Wirklichkeit in unserer Tradition primär als ‘Natur’ vorverstanden war. In einer hochgradig artifiziellen Umweltwirklichkeit ist von Rhetorik so wenig wahrzunehmen, weil sie schon allgegenwärtig ist. Die klassische antirhetorische Figur ‘res, non verba!’ verweist dann auf Sachverhalte, die ihrerseits nichts mehr von der Sanktion des Natürlichen besitzen, sondern bereits rhetorische Tinktur tragen” (“Annäher. [2001]” 429; with 415). Generally thereto, cf. subchs. 5.2 and 11.1, herein. 43 Blumenberg accentuates: “Rhetorik lehrt, Rhetorik zu erkennen” (“Annäher. [2001]” 423; trans. dsm)—and “den Mechanismus von Täuschungen zu durchschauen, um Täuschungen erzeugen zu können” (GKW III. 620; infinitized). For “die ‘technische Implikation’” will be: “das Phänomen […] produzieren [zu] können” (Legitimität 206; infinitized). Cf. V. Kahn: “rhetoric can be used for the purposes of ideological closure as well as disclosure” (Prudence 157; with: “using rhetoric to fight rhetoric”, 181). See the onset of ch. 8; and 11.1.3, 12.3, herein. 44 Concerning “Technizität als ein urtümliches anthropologisches Merkmal und damit als allgegenwärtige menschliche Struktur”, cf. Blumenberg (Legitimität 268): “Der Mensch ist ein technisches Wesen” (zur Technik 18). “Die Anthropologie hat nur noch eine ‘menschliche Natur’ zum Thema, die niemals ‘Natur’ gewesen ist und nie sein wird” (“Annäher. [2001]” 431). “Selbsterhaltung ist ein biologisches Merkmal, und insofern der Mensch als ein mangelhaft ausgerüstetes und angepaßtes Lebewesen auf die Bühne der Welt getreten ist, bedurfte er von Anfang an der Hilfsmittel, Werkzeuge und technischen Verfahren zur Sicherung seiner elementaren Lebensbedürfnisse” (Legitimität 151). Generally thereto, cf. Blumenberg (e.g. Beschreibung 518–519; 589; “Annäher. [2001]” 406–407; Höhlen. 808–818); with Heidenreich (36); Nicholls/Heidenreich (“Mythos” 219). For distance qua ground swell in his description of man, see Blumenberg (e.g. Beschreibung 508; 583; 598–600; 604; 627; 634; Arbeit 183); spec. “Der Mensch […] das Wesen der actio per distans” (Unbegrifflichkeit 10; with 9–11; 13). 45 “Der Mensch verdankt sich wesentlich sich selbst, er ist ‘autotechnisch’; – er ‘hat’ nicht nur Arbeit, er ‘ist’ auch Arbeit” (“sich selbst technisch verwirklich[end]”: zur Technik 49). 46 “Er wird durch das, was er macht, immer präziser und stringenter das, was er ist”. Cf. “daß der Mensch erst durch sich selbst zu dem werde, was er ist” (Beschreibung 484). See subch. 9.4.

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As is the case with the ‘making’ suggested by ‘poetics’, the most precise comparative term for ‘téchne’ will be ‘craft’—not the connotations of ‘creation’.47 One may point to T.S. Eliot’s pertinent hypólepsis from Dante: “il miglior fabbro” (The Waste Land 3).48 Like the collocation ‘homo faber’, this phrase highlights a praxis as forms, frames, shapes, deploys, manipulates (a tangible, virtual) material.49 With Blumenberg’s accent: ‘artists produce opalescent worlds, not because they should or must, but solely because they can’ (Lebensthemen 165).50 Virtuosity is (the general potential for) otherwiseness in actu and application. Any form of craft comes down to a calculated, (poly)purposive endeavor. Its condition of possibility—and prime target—is contingency. Arising, changing, perishing, reviving—variable are the things of this world. It is observable that matters tend to—hence may—be else. Humans might have (had) a hand therein. To précis the same, Blumenberg’s ensuing synopsis will seem expedient: This concept [of art] we take […] in its initial [and] copious scope of meaning, which derives from Greek τέχνη, Latin ars[,] and which[,] besides the ‘aesthetic’ realm[,] also comprises that of man’s instrumental products (‘technology’ in today’s sense); but[,] beyond that[,] also everything, which owes its emergence to human action and craft, hence historical, political, cultural reality in general. (zur Technik 75; trans. dsm)51

|| 47 Bubner stresses: “Die klassische Ästhetik lebt[…] aus dem Werkgedanken […]. Das Ergon, so Aristoteles, bildet das Ziel der Techne, und die Kunst figuriert in der Antike unter den Techniken, wie Medizin und Rhetorik […] auch. Der Künstler als edler Handwerker erschafft ein anerkanntes Resultat seiner Fähigkeit […] ‘opus fecit’” (“Ästhetische Erfahrung” 38). As to ‘poiein’ qua “‘making’ […] ‘crafting’ [or: ‘manufacturing’], ‘producing’”, see Curtius (155; trans. dsm). He accentuates: “Die griechischen Wörter für Dichtung und Dichter haben eine technologische, nicht eine metaphysische oder gar religiöse Bedeutung” (156). Cf. Blumenberg: “Macht der Technik, der Kunstfertigkeit” (Höhlen. 462). 48 “the better craftsman” (The Waste Land 3n.; plus 19, v.427, 19n.). The Tuscan has: “‘he there whom I [sc. ‘Guido Guinizzelli’] point out to you [sc. ‘Dante’]’—and he pointed to a spirit ahead—‘was a better craftsman of the mother tongue [‘fu miglior fabbro del parlar materno’]: verses of love and tales of romance[,] he surpassed them all—and let the fools talk[’]” (Div. Com. [II.1] 286–287, XXVI.115–119). See Kablitz (“Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 579). A French bilingual ed. is expedient for demonstrating the etymological difference: “fu miglior fabbro del parlar materno”; “du parler maternel fut meilleur maître” (La Comédie 712–713, Purg.XXVI.117). Cf. e.g. Barnhart/Steinmetz (400, s.v. ‘forge’). 49 On the “homo faber”, see Blumenberg (“Lebenswelt [2012]” 16; Lebenswelt 191); subch. 9.4. 50 He refers to “den Artisten, der schillernde Welten produziert, nicht weil er soll und muß, sondern einzig, weil er es kann” (Lebensthemen 165; infinitized). As to the ‘poet qua maker or craftsman kat’ exochén’, see Curtius (155). 51 “Diesen Begriff [sc. ‘der Kunst’] nehmen wir […] in seiner ursprünglichen Bedeutungsfülle, die aus der griechischen τέχνη, der lateinischen ars herkommt und dabei außer dem ‘ästhetischen’ Bereich auch den der instrumentalen Erzeugnisse des Menschen (‘Technik’ im

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A functional, pragmatic, reasonable view of what came to be called ‘aesthetics’, stressing its core pertinence to an artful kind of animal: after the Enlightenment (soi-disant), any inclusive take cannot but come to a technical counter program.

13.2 Against Rhetorical Engineering: Kant Hase de ir con arte en comunicar el arte[.] —Gracián (Oráculo 218, §212)52

Paragraphs 51–53 of the Third Critique simply declare that literature differs from rhetoric (qua purposive persuasion).53 Among the fine arts, Kant distinguishes speaking (‘redende’), plastic (‘bildende’), emotive or affective ones (‘Kunst des Spiels der Empfindungen’).54 Those dealing with speech are strictly differentiated into ‘eloquence’ (‘Beredsamkeit’) and the ‘poetic art’ (‘Dichtkunst’).55 While Kant’s slant is openly against the former, the latter is (said) to be “free” (KU 212, B206, [321], §51; trans. dsm). It must not arise from coercion (“ohne Zwang”), nor be venal (“nicht als Lohngeschäft”); must likewise seem unintentional (“unabsichtlich”), effortlessly harmonious (“sich von selbst so zu fügen scheinen”), accidentally serviceable (“alles Gesuchte […] verm[ei]den”); must not be purposive, other than refreshing or revitalizing (“befriedigt und erweckt”, KU 212, B206, [321], §51).56 In rhetorical words: ‘celare artem’.57

|| heutigen Sinne) einschließt; darüber hinaus aber weiterhin alles, was menschlichem Handeln und Schaffen seinen Ursprung verdankt, also historische, politische, kulturelle Realität überhaupt” (zur Technik 75). 52 “One is to proceed with art in communicating the art” (trans. dsm). See the complementary accent on effectuality: “Que es arte ir contra el arte quando no se puede de otro modo conseguir la dicha del salir bien” (Oráculo 138, §66). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 217). 53 On that score, see also Blumenberg (“Annäher. [2001]” 430–431); Bender/Wellbery (18–19); as well as Niehues-Pröbsting, calling this “Kant’s […] locus classicus of a contempt for rhetoric” (“Rhet. und Ästhetik” 49; trans. dsm; with 50). 54 (See KU 211–218, B204–213, [320–325], §51; here: 211; terms are letterspaced in the source). 55 (Cf. KU 212, B205, [321], §51). 56 (See KU 212, B206, [321], §51). As is typically the case with Kant’s diction, it will seem needful to elicit his tendency by way of key phrases: “Harmonie […] muß unabsichtlich […] sein und sich von selbst so zu fügen scheinen; sonst ist es nicht s c h ö n e Kunst”; “freie Kunst […] nicht als Lohngeschäft”—“[k]eine Arbeit […], deren Größe sich nach einem bestimmten Maßstab beurteilen, erzwingen oder bezahlen läßt”; “ohne auf einen anderen Zweck hinauszusehen (unabhängig vom Lohne)” (KU 212, §51). As to the desired, advocated effect: “daß das Gemüt sich […] beschäftigt […] befriedigt und erweckt fühlt” (KU 212, B206, [321], §51). 57 See Aristotle (Rhet. 350–355, III.ii.3–7, 1404b); Seneca the Elder (Controv. 1–6. 20–23, 13M,

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An orator has ulterior motives; aims to persuade; hence misleads, deceives deliberately—by giving less or else than pledged.58 The poet—by Kant’s artificial contrast—is said to understate his case; to truly provide more than promised.59 As the peculiar use of “würdig” evinces (here KU 213, B206, [321], §51)—like that of “unter der Würde”, later (KU 220, B216, [327], §53; see 222n.)—one is dealing with express, premeditated value judgments.60 Descriptively, as well as structurally—sans said bias and unsubstantiated prejudices—there would be no distinctive, let alone constitutive difference in terms of technique. What does vary diachronically is how the latter are perceived and gauged (moral outrage being contingent). Hardly will an Idealistic bent—or its typical mode of blunt dichotomizing—come down to the most germane benchmark. By implication, Kant may be taken to admit that Dichtkunst signifies a form of fabricating, if not counterfeiting—albeit with a difference. For its express purpose appears to be something like ‘mere playfulness’: It toys with appearance[s], which it effects as it pleases, but without thereby deceiving; for [poesis sensu lato] itself declares its pursuits to be but a game, which may nevertheless be utilized by the understanding[,] and for its activity[,] in keeping with its purpose. (KU 220, B215–216, [326–327], §53; trans. dsm)61

|| 1.Preface.21); Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 280–281, 4.2.127; Inst. Orat. 9–10. 294–295, 10.1.82). For further references, Mayfield (Ventriloquism 29n.; 49; 65n.; 74; 103n.; 108n.; 110n.; 116n.; 127– 128, 128n.; 156n.; 158; 165n.; 172n.; 186n.; 191n.; 197–199, with n.). See below; and subch. 5.2.2. 58 (Cf. KU 212–213, B206, [321], §51). 59 With context: “Der R e d n e r also kündigt ein Geschäft an und führt es so aus, als ob es bloß ein S p i e l mit Ideen sei, um die Zuhörer zu unterhalten. Der D i c h t e r kündigt bloß ein unterhaltendes S p i e l mit Ideen an, und es kommt doch soviel für den Verstand heraus, als ob er bloß dessen Geschäft zu treiben die Absicht gehabt hätte” (KU 212, B205–206, [321], §51). Cf. “Der Redner gibt also zwar etwas, was er nicht verspricht, nämlich ein unterhaltendes Spiel der Einbildungskraft; aber er bricht auch dem etwas ab, was er verspricht und was doch sein angekündigtes Geschäft ist, nämlich den Verstand zweckmäßig zu beschäftigen. Der Dichter dagegen verspricht wenig und kündigt ein bloßes Spiel mit Ideen an, leistet aber etwas, was eines Geschäftes würdig ist, nämlich dem Verstande spielend Nahrung zu verschaffen und seinen Begriffen durch Einbildungskraft Leben zu geben; mithin jener im Grunde weniger, dieser mehr, als er verspricht” (KU 213, B206, [321], §51). 60 “worthy” (resp. “appropriate to”); “beneath [its] dignity” (trans. dsm). Kant’s addendum to §53 is most revealing in this regard. Cf. especially: “Ich muß gestehen”; “mir […] ein reines Vergnügen”; “mit dem unangenehmen Gefühl” (KU 221n., B217, [327–328], §53); “gar keiner A c h t u n g würdig” (KU 222n., B218, [328]). 61 “Sie [sc. die Dichtkunst] spielt mit dem Schein, den sie nach Belieben bewirkt, ohne doch dadurch zu betrügen; denn sie erklärt ihre Beschäftigung selbst für bloßes Spiel, welches gleichwohl vom Verstande und zu dessen Geschäfte zweckmäßig gebraucht werden kann”.

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Not incidentally, the onset of this segment is a meta-rhetorical tópos—the most notorious case being those famous last words in a Gorgianic oration: “I have undertaken to write this speech as an encomium [‘ἐγκώμιον’] of Helen – and an amusement [‘παίγνιον’, ‘plaything’] for myself” (“Helen” 762–763, 49.21).62 Hardly will it be plausible to take a Sophist at his word and face value—only.63 Any declaration that the functionality of poetry be simply (co)incidental cannot but seem yet another oratorical ruse. Withal, a strict separation of the former and rhetoric is factually untenable—diachronically, and de re.64 Seeing that Kant has a proclivity for gauging Dichtkunst by the standard of its putative freedom from constraints, Beredsamkeit is vehemently attacked as curbing, restricting, invalidating, or overcoming that very liberty: Rhetoric, insofar as this is taken to signify the art of persuading, i.e. to deceive by virtue of the beautiful veneer (qua ars oratoria), and not simply [a capacity for] expressing [oneself] well (eloquence and style), is a dialectics, which borrows from the art of poetry only so much as is needful for winning over the minds [or moods] to the orator’s [side and to] his advantage[,] prior to judgment[,] and to take away [the latter’s] freedom. (KU 220, B216, [327], §53; trans. dsm)65

The specific application of generic tools is contingent. Employing rhetorical modes and orders for anti-oratorical claims has been philosophy’s distinctive characteristic since Plato—though few attained to his artfulness in this form of professional malpractice.66 || 62 On the ending: “one of the most notorious twists-in-the-tail (para prosdokian) in Greek rhetoric” (Harding 202). Cf. Bers (180). At the outset, Gorgias repeats his theme via polyptota, figurae etymologicae—in this structural variation: “praise […] praise [….] blame [….] blame […] praiseworthy […] praise […] blameworthy […] blaming […] put an end to the blame” (“Helen” 755, 49.1–2). Cf. Diels/Kranz (Vorsokratiker II. 288–294, 82B11); H. Gomperz (Sophistik 5–9). 63 Neither a simplistic trust in the surface, nor a facile discounting of the latter, will do. 64 Temporarily quarantining Kant’s moral(izing) valuations—being contingent, hence bound to vary—it will be plain that what is deemed feckful (or apt), at a certain point in time, need not be (and often is not) conceived to be so, later. 65 “Die Beredsamkeit, sofern darunter die Kunst zu überreden, d. i. durch den schönen Schein zu hintergehen (als ars oratoria), und nicht bloße Wohlredenheit (Eloquenz und Stil) verstanden wird, ist eine Dialektik, die von der Dichtkunst nur so viel entlehnt, als nötig ist, die Gemüter vor der Beurteilung für den Redner zu dessen Vorteil zu gewinnen und dieser die Freiheit zu benehmen” (KU 220, B216, [327], §53). 66 The latter’s prefix applies to a philosophical stance exclusively (here). From a rhetorical perspective, effectuality will be the (sole) measure; hence ‘good practice’ whatever happens to work under the circumstances. At times, clichés will do: ‘one cannot argue with results’. In Rorty’s (characteristically tongue-in-cheek) formulation: “It hardly matters how the trick was done. The results were marvelous” (Contingency 17).

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Needless to say, a penchant for reducing rhetoric to elocutio is rampant among its detractors (see Bender/Wellbery 18–19). Implicitly, Kant’s hostility seems to target the art of dispositio primarily; meaning, a capacity for feckful arrangement, selectivity—for an ‘economy of truth’.67 Such cunning conduces to suasion or swaying; hence to the—indirectly compelling, latently coercive—production of convictions (see 5.2.2, herein). A negative evaluation of said process rests on tacit—and altogether contingent— presuppositions: that people usually take their ‘own’ decisions; that making judgments could ever proceed from something like a neutral ground.68 Thus the thinker does not want this ‘art of persuading, convincing, influencing’ to ‘appear’, when the function is docere (“Belehrung”, “Kenntnis”, “Pflicht”)—as in courts of law, moral institutions (KU 220–221, B216, [327], §53).69 Be that as it may. The bottom line remains that acts of coaxing ought not to

|| 67 While the art as a whole conduces to a complex comprehension of factual and potential angles, assorted beliefs, most diverse stances (on the part of others), it is typically not exactly expedient to convey one’s capacity for taking perspectives—much less to spell them out: “die UEBERREDUNGSKUNST [‘beruht’] darauf, daß man die Verhältnisse der Begriffssphären nur einer oberflächlichen Betrachtung unterwirft und sie dann seinen Absichten gemäß einseitig bestimmt” (Schopenhauer WWV I. 87, I.9). This pertains to articulation; hardly to the process of inventio: “The discovery of differences is useful […] for the recognition of what some particular thing is” (Aristotle “Top.” 325, 108a–b, I.xviii). For even—or especially—a manipulator must be ‘in the know’, have delved deeper than the ‘surface’; and precisely to keep others ‘out of it’, effectually: “it is useful to have examined the various meanings of a term[,] both with a view to clarity […], and also in order that […] reasonings may be directed to the actual thing and not to the name by which it is called. […] It is also useful so that one may not be misled and that one may mislead others by false reasoning [‘πρὸς τὸ παραλογίσασθαι’]” (“Top.” 325, 108a, I.xviii). See Schopenhauer: “Fast immer theilen sich in der Sphäre eines Begriffs mehrere andere, deren jede einen Theil des Gebiets des ersteren auf dem ihrigen enthält, selbst aber auch noch mehr außerdem umfaßt: von diesen letzteren Begriffssphären läßt man aber nur die eine beleuchtet werden, unter welche man den ersten Begriff subsumiren will, während man die übrigen unbeachtet liegen läßt, oder verdeckt hält. Auf diesem Kunstgriff beruhen eigentlich alle Ueberredungskünste, alle feineren Sophismen: […] das Wesen aller Sophistikation und Ueberredung [wird] auf diesen letzten Grund ihrer Möglichkeit zurückgeführt”; i.e. “wie die Begriffssphären mannigfaltig in einander greifen und dadurch der Willkür Spielraum geben” (WWV I. 88, I.9; see his expedient diagram for the topic and concept of ‘traveling’ at 90–91). Rhetorico-Sophistic techniques exploit a state of affairs artfully, in a virtuoso manner—with an(y) appearance of simplicity pertaining to the latter. See Aristotle: “We must distinguish as many senses as will serve our purpose” (“Top.” 345, 110b, II.iii; plus 358–359, 112b, II.vii). 68 Cf. Marquard: “Positionen sind dadurch, daß sie kontingent sind, nicht auch schon beliebig, das heißt beliebig austauschbar. Niemand steht auf einem Nullpunkt der Wahl vor den Positionen, jeder steckt schon in Positionen” (Glück 120). 69 “der Kunst, zu überreden und zu irgend jemandes Vorteil einzunehmen”.

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manifest themselves or be plain per se—as Kant’s crafty formulation insinuates (“blicken zu lassen”, KU 221, B216, [327], §53). Hardly an unrhetorical directive. The critic of judgment then recurs to his economized version of the orator’s third office. Via significative German terms or phrases, he implies perspicuitas (“deutliche”), puritas apropos usus (“die Regeln des Wohllauts der Sprache”), evidentia (“einer lebhaften Darstellung”), exempla (“in Beispielen”), the aptum (“Wohlanständigkeit des Ausdrucks”)—qua what is to distinguish elocutional eloquence (“Wohlredenheit”, KU 221, B216–217, [327], §53). While largely omitted in the source, these Latin signifiers cannot but render patent the utter rhetoricity of Kant’s criteria; the only difference being that he will not allow for their use with a view to suasion—much less manipulation. Yet tools and techniques are indifferent to their contingent handlers.70 As far as the theorist is concerned, the above—perspicuity, purity, decorum, et caetera—appear to have a ‘sufficiently effectual influence on human minds as such’; wherefore an(y) application of the indicted “machines of persuasion” must seem not only superfluous, but excessive (KU 221, B217, [327], §53; trans. dsm).71 For said contrivances “may also be employed for the whitewashing or concealment of vice and error”; hence “cannot entirely extinguish the suspicion of an artificial persuasion” (KU 221, B217, [327], §53; trans. dsm).72 By recourse to the dichotomy of his own partial making, Kant perceives or construes a striking contrast: In the art of poetry[,] everything takes place honestly and in earnest. [Poesis sensu lato] itself announces that it intends to be playing […] a merely entertaining game with the imagination [‘Einbildungskraft’, ‘fancy’], and does not require to surreptitiously insinuate itself [into,] and to entangle[,] the understanding by means of sensory representation. (KU 221, B217, [327], §53; trans. dsm)73

Rather than the exception, a lack of fundamentum in re will be the rule in the genre of declarations. Even if the above were commonly the case, there could

|| 70 Cf. Schopenhauer (“Wurzel” 86–87, IV, §21). 71 “schon an sich hinreichenden Einfluß auf menschliche Gemüter”; “die Maschinen der Überredung”. See what follows above. 72 “sowohl auch zur Beschönigung oder Verdeckung des Lasters und Irrtums gebraucht werden können”; “den geheimen Verdacht wegen einer künstlichen Überlistung nicht ganz vertilgen können”. Cf. subch. 6.6.1.4, herein. 73 “In der Dichtkunst geht alles ehrlich und aufrichtig zu. Sie erklärt sich, ein bloßes unterhaltendes Spiel mit der Einbildungskraft […] treiben zu wollen, und verlangt nicht den Verstand durch sinnliche Darstellung zu überschleichen und zu verstricken” (KU 221, B217, [327], §53). Said parallelism might also be trans. “to blindside and ensnare”.

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plainly be no certainty that such statements of intent do not amount to the next best ruse. Diachronically, critics typically incline toward convincing themselves of their proclivities—precisely since they might as well be otherwise.74 An extended footnote follows, attacking rhetoric qua devious, inveigling, manipulative. As contrasted with the “pure pleasure” (“reines Vergnügen”) arising from “a beautiful poem”, the theorist intimates an “unpleasant feeling of disapproval” when faced with that “insidious art”: oratory’s crafty wiles and devices are said to be capable of ‘moving human beings like machines’ (KU 221n., B217, [328], §53; trans. dsm).75 Quite apart from his usual value judgments, Kant’s very imagery is striking—and hardly sans suasive resolve. Based on his artificial dichotomy and reductive terminology, the critic of judgment declares—with profound indignation: Articulacy and eloquence (together[:] rhetoric [sc. qua elocutio only]) pertain to the fine arts; but the orator’s art (ars oratoria), qua art of availing oneself of human weaknesses for one’s [own] purposes (be they ever so well-meaning[,] or even actually good, as they may), is not worthy of any r e s p e c t whatsoever. (KU 222n., B217–218, [328], §53)76

In a thetical mise en abyme of poetic ‘honesty’, Kant’s valuative hyperbolism effectually ensures that his idealism—plus the ever entrained dualisms—are not omitted from sight.77 Like Plato before him, his articulate unworldliness tenders ‘mere entertainment’—in order to accommodate the impracticable dreams of

|| 74 The contingency of preferences, values, judgments, etc. is most visible in the fact that others care (or beg) to differ. See spec. subch. 5.1.1, herein. 75 “unangenehme[s] Gefühl der Mißbilligung einer hinterlistigen Kunst”; “ein schönes Gedicht”; “die Menschen als Maschinen […] zu bewegen versteht”. In a matter-of-fact manner, Blumenberg glosses: “Nun ist es gar nicht strittig, daß die konstitutive Angewiesenheit des Menschen auf rhetorische Handlungen immer auch eine Anfälligkeit für Rhetorik ist; zur Maschine zu werden, gibt es für ihn Gefahren und Pressionen genug” (“Annäher. [2001]” 430). 76 “Beredtheit und Wohlredenheit (zusammen Rhetorik) gehören zur schönen Kunst; aber Rednerkunst (ars oratoria) ist, als Kunst sich der Schwächen der Menschen zu seinen Absichten zu bedienen (diese mögen immer so gut gemeint oder auch wirklich gut sein, als sie wollen) gar keiner A c h t u n g würdig” (KU 222n., B217–218, [328], §53). 77 Citing Nietzsche’s counter statement—“Die Rhetorik ist deshalb ehrlicher, weil sie das T ä u s c h e n als Ziel anerkennt” (KSA 7. 758, 32[14])—Blumenberg tries to discriminate between the “Lehre von der Beredsamkeit”, which “ehrlich sein [‘muß’]”; and its “Ausübung”, wherein “die Rhetorik nicht ehrlich sein [‘kann’]” (Die nackte Wahrheit 29–30). To say nothing of the former’s supposed necessity, the fact that the latter does not always hold is sufficiently demonstrated by Gorgias (cf. the n. above, and subch. 13.5). Nor are counterexamples found in epideictic only (see Aristotle, Machiavelli). Whether facile (Kant), subtle (Blumenberg), or else: dichotomies have a tendency to atrophy any sense there may well (or otherwise) be.

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philosophers and their ilk. By taking it more than seriously, the latter continue to disprove his concomitant postulates regarding aesthetic autonomy. Whether bona or mala fide, Ancient and Early Modern writers champion Cato’s claim that “[a]n orator” be “a good man skilled in speaking” (at Seneca the Elder Controv. 1–6. 9–11, 5M, 1.Pref.9).78 Kant follows suit by defining the “vir bonus dicendi peritus” qua “orator without art[ifice], but full of” emphatic or forceful “vigor”, holding “language […] in his sway”; not incidentally, the German does have “Gewalt”, here (KU 222n., B218, [328], §53; trans. dsm).79 This very wording cannot but insinuate that the assertion is disposed to cut both ways. For millennia, apodictically curbing the art’s elasticity has never succeeded. It remains a protean, multipurpose, universal téchne—capable of accommodating the requirements of most any contingent situation. The present approach reads Kant from a rhetorical perspective. Only prima facie against its grain, the Critique of Judgment actually appears to legitimate such a take. Its taxonomy, the text’s ground swell, are thoroughly oratorical— despite, or precisely due to, a respective antagonism. Hardly will it be incidental that the theorist refers to a combination of art forms as a collaborative “Machwerk” (KU 216, B210, [323], §51); or to “products” (KU 218, B213, [325], §52; see 214, B208, [322], §51; trans. dsm).80 Withal, the word for ‘effect(uality)’—‘Wirkung’, plus certain variants—is discernible on virtually every page throughout the relevant paragraphs in the Third Critique (here §51– 54).81 Its implications are plainly technical. At least in part, the linguistic plane cannot but gainsay said text’s idealistic drift—that quasi theological emphasis on ‘free’, ‘ingenious’, ‘original creations’.82

|| 78 “Orator est […] vir bonus dicendi peritus” (Controv. 1–6. 8–10, 5M, 1.Pref.9). Cf. Quintilian (Inst. Orat. 11–12. 196, 12.1.1; 196n.; with Inst. Orat. 1–2. 56, 1.Pro.9); Cicero (De Orat. I–II. 260– 263, II.xx.85); as well as subchs. 3.7 and 11.1, herein. 79 “der vir bonus dicendi peritus, der Redner ohne Kunst, aber voll Nachdruck”; “die Sprache […] in seiner Gewalt” (KU 222n., B218, [328], §53)—and therewith the others. 80 “Produkte”; the term preceding above might be trans. ‘(a) wrought work’. 81 Incl. other instances from the paradigm, such as ‘bewirkt’ (see e.g. KU 216–218, B210–213, [324–325], §51; 220, B215, [327], §53; 228–229, B225, [332–333], §54; 231, B228, [334], §54). 82 Cf. “Unter allen [schönen Künsten] behauptet die D i c h t k u n s t (die fast gänzlich dem Genie ihren Ursprung verdankt und am wenigsten durch Vorschrift oder durch Beispiele geleitet sein will) den obersten Rang” (KU 219, B215, [326], §53). It is said to be a ‘liberation from’, before it is a ‘freedom for’—as this clarifies: “Die D i c h t k u n s t […] erweitert das Gemüt, dadurch, daß sie die Einbildungskraft in Freiheit setzt […]. Sie stärkt das Gemüt, indem sie es sein freies, selbsttätiges und von der Naturbestimmung unabhängiges Vermögen fühlen läßt” (KU 219–220, B215, [326] §53). With respect to musical art (“T o n k u n s t”), Kant uses distinctly rhetorical vocabulary: terms pertaining to variatio (“öfteren Wechsel […] mehrmalige

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Ultimately, Kant’s assessment is purposive itself. He argues for a ‘cultivated pleasure’ in art.83 While amounting to its intellectualization and moralization, such will also intimate that matters generally tend to be otherwise.84 Besides, an advocacy of its ‘refreshing’, ‘invigorating’, ‘revitalizing’ effects is express.85 || Wiederholung nicht […] ohne Überdruß”, “Wechsel”); to the aptum (“angemessen”, “gemäß”, “angemessenes”); to proportionality (“proportionierten”, “Proportion der Eindrücke”); to ‘culture’ qua ‘urbanitas’ (“Kultur”, “Urbanität”) as a benchmark (KU 222–225, B218–221, [328– 330], §53); likewise to the purpose of movere in terms of “also reciprocally produc[ing] in the hearer […] an affect of the speaker” (“einen Affekt des Sprechenden [….] gegenseitig auch im Hörenden hervorbringt”, KU 223, B219, [328], §53; trans. dsm). Variation as conducive to vitality qua function of art is also the basso ostinato of §54. See the ensuing sequence: “wechselnde”, Wechsel”, “Wechsel”, “wechseln”, “Wechsel”, “Wechselwirkung” (KU 226–229, B222–226, [330–333], §54). In all likelihood, an explicitly oratorical take on music is inconceivable to Kant, since rhetoric has been assaulted most harshly—in the text and a lengthy gloss (KU 220– 220, 221n.–222n., B216–218, [327–328], §53). That the former is not only possible, but highly plausible, is elegantly elucidated by Feldman (passim; spec. 71–80, 86). 83 Cf. “Lust zugleich Kultur”; “Wohlgefallen”; “mit moralischen Ideen in Verbindung gebracht” (KU 219, B214, [326], §52). Another part of the invective concerns artforms relieved of their moral nexus: “Wenn die schönen Künste nicht nahe oder fern mit moralischen Ideen in Verbindung gebracht werden”, etc. (KU 219, B214, [326], §52). See also these affine remarks: “E i n e Art, sich zu vergnügen, ist zugleich K u l t u r : nämlich Vergrößerung der Fähigkeit, noch mehr Vergnügen dieser Art zu genießen; dergleichen das mit Wissenschaften und schönen Künsten ist” (“Anthropologie” 559, BA178–179, §60). Spec. with Blumenberg (Beschreibung 724)—who observes: “Kultur ist Intensität” (Beschreibung 723). 84 Hedoné is to be noetically cultured: “wo die Lust zugleich Kultur ist und den Geist zu Ideen stimmt” (KU 219, B214, [326], §52). Not ‘pure pleasure for its sake’: such must lead to disgust, obtuseness. The vector of excess is still and only more: “wo es bloß auf Genuß angelegt ist […] [‘macht’ es] den Geist stumpf, den Gegenstand nach und nach anekelnd und das Gemüt […] mit sich selbst unzufrieden und launisch” (KU 219, B214, [326], §52); “die schönen Künste […] dienen alsdann nur zur Zerstreuung, deren man immer desto mehr bedürftig wird, als man sich ihrer bedient, um die Unzufriedenheit des Gemüts mit sich selbst dadurch zu vertreiben, daß man sich immer noch unnützlicher und mit sich selbst unzufriedener macht” (KU 219, B214, [326], §52). Cf. Küpper (“Uti and frui” S147–S148); and ch. 9 (spec. 9.2, 9.3), herein. 85 “beschäftigt […] befriedigt und erweckt” (KU 212, B206, [321], §51). “Bewegung und Belebung” (KU 224, B220, [329], §53). The same holds true for §54, trying to cement a distinction between intellectual (“Wohlgefallen oder Mißfallen beruht […] auf der Vernunft”) and physical pleasure conducive to a feeling of health: “Vergnügen (die Ursache desselben mag immerhin auch in Ideen liegen) scheint jederzeit in einem Gefühl der Beförderung des gesamten Lebens des Menschen, mithin auch des körperlichen Wohlbefindens, d. i. der Gesundheit zu bestehen; […] Vergnügen oder Schmerz aber können nur auf dem Gefühl oder der Aussicht auf ein (aus welchem Grunde es auch sei) mögliches W o h l - oder Ü b e l b e f i n d e n beruhen” (KU 226, B222–223, [330–331], §54). As the parentheses might evince, a severance between said pleasures is not as strict as the theorist would seem to prefer; ex negativo, this is plain by the mention of Epicurus, who (Kant says) ‘simply misunderstood himself’ (KU 226, B223, [331], §54;

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These may well be deemed a downright pragmatic—even physical—function of the human phenomenon in question. Almost palpably, any alleged ‘autonomy of the aesthetic’ will have its own agenda; and surely more than that plain purpose of simply declaring art to be without the same. The theorist has—and takes—an interest in construing art as ‘disinterested’.86 With customary innocence, a receptive routine trusts the assertive surface; takes the philosophical dogma at face value; hence remains blind (or deaf) to the effectual concealment at work and play in Kant’s own take. While clearly capable of shifting a gullible readership’s attention, overly vehement denials point to a respective need. The factual state may be discerned ex negativo. In the Third Critique, the sections on oratory are rhetorical in the sense that they (tacitly) proceed from such standards; and also from devaluations with a feedback effect. At a general plane, both aspects are noted by Blumenberg: in modern times[,] anti-rhetoric has become one of the most important rhetorical devices for claiming the harshness of realism for one’s [own stance]. […] In a highly artificial environment [and] factuality, rhetoric is so imperceptible, because it is already omnipresent. (“Annäher. [2001]” 429; trans. dsm)87

Quintilian’s overall directive has been implemented on a grand scale: “we think our art is wasted unless it can be seen, when the truth is that it ceases to be art once it is detected” (Inst. Orat. 3–5. 280–281, 4.2.127).88

|| see 231–232, B228, [334–335], §54). Cf. other terms in this (physically) vitalizing regard: “Gefühl der Gesundheit befördert”; “Gemüt […] belebt”; “lebhaft”; “Lebensgeschäft im Körper befördert”; “erzeugte Munterkeit” (KU 227, B224, [332], §54); “lebhaft”; “Belebung”; “Gefühl der Gesundheit”; “das beförderte Lebensgeschäft im Körper”; “das Gefühl der Gesundheit”; “lebhaftes” (KU 228, B224–225, [332], §54); “lebhaft”; “Gleichgewicht der Lebenskräfte im Körper” (KU 229, B225–226, [332–333], §54). 86 (KU 49–50, B5–7, [204–205], §2; 58–59, B17–18, [211–212], §6; 99–100, B68–69, [240–241]). Otherwise: Mayfield (Artful 35n.). On Kant’s ‘aesthetics of autonomy’ with a view to pleasure— in comparison and contrast to Augustine’s ‘theological poetics’—see Küpper (“Uti and frui” S146–S150; S154; here: S146); spec. as to the idealist’s ‘rigorism’ (“Uti and frui” S147; S150). 87 “Antirhetorik [‘ist’] in der Neuzeit zu einem der wichtigsten rhetorischen Kunstmittel geworden […], für sich die Härte des Realismus in Anspruch zu nehmen […]. In einer hochgradig artifiziellen Umweltwirklichkeit ist von Rhetorik so wenig wahrzunehmen, weil sie schon allgegenwärtig ist”. Cf. the onset of subch. 11.1, herein. 88 “et perire artem putamus nisi appareat, cum desinat ars esse si apparet”. Cf. Seneca the Elder (Controv. 1–6. 22–23, 13M, 1.Preface.21); and ps.-Longinus: “For art [‘τέχνη’] is only perfect when it looks like nature [‘φύσις’] and Nature succeeds only when she conceals latent art” (240–241, 22.1). See the above n.; as well as Mayfield (Ventriloquism 197n.–198n.).

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Along those lines, the tendency of Kant’s postulate might be inverted: aesthetic products seem effectual to the extent that they conceivably (or quasi covertly) project ‘disinterestedness’. Insinuating their extancy as being with a view to delectare only—hence sans ulterior motives (hedonism being downright manifest)—may well be plausibly conveyed by certain artifacts; and surely not ‘post-critical’ ones exclusively. While efficiently concealing the craft involved in generating delight, such polyvalent articles simultaneously accomplish other— latent, less plain, implicit, embedded—tasks, roles, or purposes en passant. Ever is effect the overriding télos—whether in poetic or rhetorical contexts (insofar as the latter may be distinguished at all). Like other works, those of the litterae sensu lato could never be monofunctional—each and every claim to the contrary proving just that.89 In general, one is facing—and scholars will be attentive to—degrees of predominance, nuances in terms of foregrounding, as well as incidental reciprocities. Such finetuning concerns the productive stages; and the various phases of a diachronic, hence contingent reception. Not even in Kant’s peculiar take is art ‘depragmatized’; rather, artificially narrowed down to one among its assorted offices. While perhaps expedient—as the case (and readerly proclivities) may be—mono-functionality will be a fiction. Then again, anything circulating in socio-cultural contexts cannot but be linked to value judgments, especially regarding what happens to be considered apt—appropriate, utile, permissible, plausible, et caetera—at a given point in time. This utterly rhetorical assumption is unavoidable, as any transtemporal take on a particular matter might demonstrate. Even if their makers tried, works of art could still not be ‘depragmatized’, non-purposive.90 All the more does this pertain to their diachronic refunctionalizations. Contingency prevails.

13.3 Applied Manipulation a web of relations to be rewoven[.] —Rorty (Contingency 43) son muchos los hilos de que se teje la historia literaria […], muy profunda, a veces[,] la diferencia entre cosas que a primera vista parecen análogas. —Menéndez Pelayo (Orígenes III. CLVII; La Celestina 226)91

|| 89 Jakobson accentuates “the multiple functions performed simultaneously by verbal communication” (“Language” 53). Cf. Mayfield (“Interplay” 4–5, 5n.–6n.; 8n.; 14n.; 33n.). 90 See Küpper: “Die […] verbreitete These, Literatur habe ‘nichts’ mit außersprachlicher Wirklichkeit zu tun, ist […] intellektueller Extremismus” (“Denken” 260; plus context). 91 “many are the threads from which literary history is woven […], most profound, at times[,]

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When bewildered by the incurable innocence of Enlightenment moralizing—or nonplussed by the obdurate obtuseness of Romanticist Platonizing—recourse to certain Ancient, Early Modern takes and descriptions is likely to have a sobering effect. With a view to backing down from such insubstantial and obstinate cloud treading, recontextualization will be a first functional step in the return to terra firma et fundamenta in rebus (see 11.1, herein). Environments matter. Milieus differ. Material is contingent. Technical skill, literary virtuosity, feckful manipulation, are elementally circumstantial: “The artistic effect […] is always [the] result of a relation”; “[o]utside” thereof, it “does not exist” (Lotman 144–145; trans. dsm).92 Recurrences and deviations have a tendency to happen anyway. In any corpus (textual, otherwise), the possibility of repetition with variance forms the basis for deliberate ‘osteopathy’. Generally speaking, external or ‘outsourced’ points of reference will have to be considered, as well. For instance, events, beliefs, or slogans—which anyone is thought to know—may be taken as read. With some plausibility, one might presume that recipients are already primed in their diverse expectations—at least to some extent: “what’s past is prologue” (Shakespeare Tem 202, II.i.253).93 Contingency enables manipulation (semiotic, or else). Even so, the effect of a tacit variation or ‘handling’ can only come to pass, if said knowledge is indeed present—and the corresponding experience of recognition actually takes place— in the minds affected or involved.

|| the difference between matters as seem similar at first sight” (trans. dsm). Cf. Nichols: “recursive reading […] traces the network of allusions forged from the cultural heritage the literary text engages” (“Anxiety” 13; with context). Alford accentuates: “Attentional dynamics generate complexly interwoven webs of relation” (Poetic Attention 19). See Kablitz’ subtlemost formulation: “von Zitaten […] durchwirkt” (“Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 585). 92 Highlighting ‘(textual) effects’, Lotman’s aptly technical take does away with that putative ‘autonomy of art’. The scholar’s focus on elocutio may be generalized. 93 Blumenberg observes: “Leser und Hörer […] sind von der Erwartung bestimmt” (“Über den Rand” 16; infinitized). For the rhetorical phrase and device of ‘everyone knows or understands’ (“ciascuno lo intende”), see Machiavelli (Principe 115, XVIII.1); with Aristotle (Rhet. 378–381, 1408a, III.vii.7); Strauss (Thoughts 101; 210; 313n.; 314n.; 320n.); Mansfield (Virtue 6; 31; 37); Mayfield (Artful 2; 14; 80n.–81n.; 115, 115n.; 119n.; 187, 187n.; 192n.; “hypólepsis” 233–234; 245n.–246n.; 251n.; 253n.; 255–256, 256n.; 262n.; 265n.–266n.; 274; Ventriloquism 4; 15n.; 58n.; 112n.; 145n.; 174, 174n.; 176, 176n.; 195).

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13.3.1 Machiavellian Ventriloquism any reported speech is appropriated and remolded by the quoter, whether it is a quotation from an alter or from an earlier phase of the ego[.] —Jakobson (“Language” 54)94 Ahead lies more ventriloquy, misapplied quotation, dubious commentary and parable. —Lee (151)

Dealing with works of bygone eras, a good many semiotic manipulations will go unnoticed, in that they presuppose ken or experiences a respectively present audience or readership does—or even could—not have (should the sources be lost). Then again, certain times display a tendency of referring to texts as are, and potentially remain, prevalent in a given ‘culture’s (virtual) networks’.95 Though Scripture no longer has its accustomed status in the Occident, even in this day and age many will be more or less familiar with the notorious tale of some shepherd boy facing a giant warrior. Everyone knows how it goes; or so it would seem. Well aware of what most tend to recognize, Machiavelli ties in with said setup—producing the ensuing narrative: I want further to recall to memory a figure of the Old Testament apt for this purpose. When David offered to Saul to go and fight Goliath […], Saul, to give him spirit, armed him with his own arms—which David, as soon as he had them on, refused, saying that with them he could not give a good account of himself, and so he would rather meet the enemy with his sling and his knife. In fine, the arms of others either fall off your back or weigh you down or hold you tight. (Prince [Mansfield] 56, XIII)96

|| 94 Cf. Kablitz: “‘Tradition’ […] meint immer schon eine Form der Rezeption, sie ist auch als Bewahrung immer schon Aneignung” (“Augustinismus” 65n.). See V. Kahn on “the rhetoric of quotation” qua “willful manipulation of prior texts” (“Figure” 154; cf. 160; with Küpper “Philology” 146)—and of personae (see V. Kahn “defense” 101–102; Küpper Schweigen 8; 13–15, 13n.; 25; 27n.; 40, 40n.; 50; and 1–53 passim; “Philology” 136–139, 137n.–138n.; 141). Generally speaking, “substitution[s] […] [are] not innocent” (V. Kahn “Figure” 158). Küpper accentuates “Petrarcas Basis-Verfahren des selektiven Zitats, das die Aussage ins Gegenteil verkehrt” (Schweigen 29n.; with 31n.–32n.; “Philology” 134–135). Cf. Kablitz for downright significative instances (“Augustinismus” 36; 40; 49; 54–56; 62n.–63n.; “Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 608n.; 609; “Verwandlung” 280n.–281n.; 290; “Senses” 218; 226–228). Machiavelli’s teachers were (rhetorical) virtuosi, as well (see Küpper Schweigen 47; “Philology” 144; Kablitz “Ende” 510– 511, 511n.; “Lyrik des Selbstverlusts” 585; “Verwandlung” 282; “Augustinismus” 44n.; spec. this felicitous collocation: “ebenso obstinat wie virtuos”, 61). 95 On the conception of ‘(virtual) cultural networks’, see Küpper (Cultural Net passim); for references, applications, cf. (sub)chs. 3.2, 3.6, 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 5.2.3, 6.6, 7, 10.2, 11.3.4, 13.3.1, 13.5. 96 “[15] Voglio ancora ridurre a memoria una figura del Testamento vecchio, fatta a questo proposito. [16] Offerendosi Davit a Saul d’andare a combattere con Golia […], Saul per dargli

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Dryly, Mansfield observes that Machiavelli’s “account of this episode differs significantly from the biblical original” (Prince [Mansfield] 56n.). Indeed. Scripture stresses that the boy faced the giant with just “his sling in his hand”, plus five stones (1Sm 17:40; NIV).97 A little later, one may read: “So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him” (1Sm 17:50; NIV).98 The next verse adds that the lad took Goliath’s—own—sword to cut off the latter’s head.99 By brazenly adding an item explicitly missing in the source, Machiavelli inverts the tale’s tendency entirely; especially since he also removes something else (for good measure). The consigliere’s arch-rhetorical phrase “fatta a questo proposito” (Principe 93, XIII.15) will signal that his use is mala fide outright. In the Scriptural account, the ensuing is put into the mouth of ‘David’: You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord […]. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. […] the whole world will know that there is a God […]. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands. (1Sm 17:45–47; NIV)100

As everyone knows, texts are subject to various contingencies anyway: physical damage, even utter forfeiture; errata in transcription, interlingual conversion; scribal miscomprehension for reasons of the material or tempo-cultural alterity; et multa caetera. Yet none of the above is the case here. The Florentine has not suddenly lost his otherwise excellent command of the lingua franca. Nor will there be any relevant obscurity in the Vulgata with respect to this particular passage. Hence the variance cannot but be striking: not a word of God in Machiavelli’s account (see Mayfield Artful 183). || animo lo armò dell’arme sua: le quali Davit, come l’ebbe indosso, recusò, dicendo con quelle non si potere bene valere di sé stesso; e però voleva trovare el nimico con la sua fromba e con il suo coltello. [17] Infine, le arme di altri o le ti caggiono di dosso o le ti pesano o le ti stringono” (Principe 93, XIII.15–17). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 180; 181n.–182n.; 183). 97 “elegit sibi quinque limpidissimos lapides de torrente […] et fundam manu tulit: et processit adversum Philisthaeum” (Vulgate). 98 “Praevaluitque David adversum Philisthaeum in funda et lapide, percussumque Philisthaeum interfecit. Cumque gladium non haberet in manu David” (Vulgate). 99 “cucurrit, et stetit super Philisthaeum, et tulit gladium ejus, et eduxit eum de vagina sua: et interfecit eum, praeciditque caput ejus” (1Sm 17:51; Vulgate). 100 “Tu venis ad me cum gladio, et hasta, et clypeo: ego autem venio ad te in nomine Domini […][;] hodie […] dabit te Dominus in manu mea, et percutiam te, et auferam caput tuum a te: […] ut sciat omnis terra quia est Deus […], et noverit universa ecclesia haec, quia non in gladio nec in hasta salvat Dominus: ipsius enim est bellum, et tradet vos in manus nostras” (Vulgate).

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With respect to consistency, this is only apt and plausible. For the context— the consigliere’s entire ‘opusculum’—accentuate the exact opposite: not trust in some deity; but reliance on oneself alone.101 In the words of Strauss: Machiavelli completely disregards what the Bible says […] about Divine assistance to David. […] he can be said to misuse the authority of the Bible in order to establish the antiBiblical truth par excellence. […] Divine assistance would be, to say the least, reliance on the arms of others. (Thoughts 330n.)

Slightly, while decisively, the Florentine alters a tale all are thought to know— precisely to assert what this segment, and the whole tract, advocate: “one’s own arms”, “one’s own force” (Prince [Mansfield] 57, XIII).102 Mansfield’s gloss will be of general pertinence: “The deeper meaning of Machiavelli’s slogan […] is […] antireligious” (Virtue 188).103 With characteristic incisiveness, Strauss describes the ultimate upshot: “Not trust in God and self-denial but self-reliance and selflove is the root of human strength and greatness” (Thoughts 190). Even long established matters are susceptible of being (made) otherwise. Machiavelli’s manipulative virtuosity consists in effectually employing—or else (from an orthodox viewpoint) abusing—a highly floatational narrative. Whereas many reactions are possible, three types of reception should be the most likely. Without their awareness, some readers might be impressed by an apparent recourse to a writ and venerable authority—a sense of long acquaintance. The altered version could be taken at face value, even while a feeling of familiarity will surreptitiously underwrite its anti-Scriptural message. Observing the incisive inversion, others may well see a need to project their appallment on ideological grounds; or be overawed for philological reasons— precisely due to such skillful handling, effectual delivery. To the extent that human history is on record, Machiavelli will surely be among the most virtuoso manipulators; also in textual respects.104 Contingency is free for all, potentially. As concerns the quantity and quality of instances, there appears to be a particular preference for the device of sermocinatio—a rhetorical technique the || 101 In the admired letter to Vettori of Dec 10, 1513, Machiavelli himself refers to the treatise in question as “uno opuscolo De principatibus” (Lettere 304, §140; cf. Dieci lettere private 61, II). 102 “sua vi”, “l’arme proprie” (Principe 96, XIII.26–27). Within a brief space, the words are reiterated three times: “arme proprie” (Principe 96, XIII.26; twice in XIII.27). 103 He “often makes use of Christian themes for […] anti-Christian purposes” (Pitkin 43). 104 Blumenberg refers to “Rhetorik […] als mehr oder weniger offene Technik der Überredung und Verführung […], als Technik der Rede vor Gericht, vor der Volksversammlung, vor der Gemeinde schließlich, die zu ihrem Heil verführt sein will. Diese Tradition kulminiert bei Machiavelli” (Unbegrifflichkeit 85; plus: “die Menschen zu ihrem Glück zu verführen”, 88).

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consigliere might be said to have perfected. Like an Athenian aristocrat before him, this sly Florentine artfully ventriloquizes on all sides—placing efficacious words into the mouths of quasi historical (or altogether imagined) personae.105 Wonted modes include redescribed variants of paradiastolé, praeteritio (not to mention apóphasis, élleipsis).106 The latter marks a policy often encountered in another Early Modern master of manipulation—who perused the former.

13.3.2 Gracián’s Artful Acuteness Nunc meae militiae Astutia opus est. Subcenturia! —Caecilius Statius (544, §219–220)107 the tacit manipulation and engineering of attention[.] —Alford (Poetic Attention 18)108

With consummate subtlety, a maverick Jesuit varies a Scriptural saw as might be said to still have a certain currency—at least in sedimented or ‘secular’ versions: Don’t be completely dove-like [‘columbino’]. Let the craftiness [‘calidez’] of the snake alternate with the simplicity [‘candidez’] of the dove. There’s nothing easier than deceiving [‘engañar’] a good person. The person who never lies [‘miente’] is more ready to believe [‘Cree’], and one who never deceives [‘engaña’] is more trusting [‘confía’]. Being deceived [‘engañado’] is not always the result of stupidity, but sometimes of simple goodness. Two types of people often foresee danger: those who have learnt from experience, very much to their own cost, and the astute [‘astutos’], very much to the cost of others. Let shrewdness [‘sagacidad’] be as versed in suspicion [‘rezelo’] as astuteness [‘astucia’] is in intrigue [‘enredo’], and don’t try to be so good that you create opportunities for someone else to be bad. Be a combination [‘mixto’] of the dove and the serpent; not a monster, but a prodigy. (Pocket 92, §243; Oráculo 234–235, §243)109

|| 105 Cf. Strauss (Thoughts 35–36; 42; 106–107; 137–167): “Machiavelli’s Livy is a character of Machiavelli” (Thoughts 141). “Tacitus is less Machiavelli’s model than his creation” (Thoughts 165). See Mansfield (Virtue 132; 320n.); Mayfield (Artful 83n.; 91n.; Ventriloquism 32n.; 148n.– 149n.; 167–170, 167n.–170n.; here 185–189, 185n.–189n.; 198n.); and ch. 7 (spec. 7.2.3), herein. 106 See Mayfield (Artful 117–120; 122–123; 151; 154n.; 193n.; Ventriloquism 83n.; 165n.); as well as subchs. 8.3.2 and 8.5.1, herein. Cf. Blumenberg, de re: “Ein rhetorisches Meisterstück ist dieser Text […] vor allem darin, daß er […][das] eingangs [E]ingeführte […] im allerletzten Zug […] unter der Hand wieder verschwinden läßt” (GKW II. 364; infinitized). 107 “Now my warfare has need of Dame Cunning. Enlist her!” (545, §219–220); the line is preserved in Festus. Warmington notes that—as per Paulus (Diaconus)—“militiae” might read “malitiae” (544n.–545n.). See Gracián (Oráculo 107–108, §13; 108n.). 108 Adding: “attention is manipulated by the form of the language” (Poetic Attention 15; cf. 3). 109 “No ser todo columbino. Altérnense la calidez de la serpiente con la candidez de la

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Biting its own tail, the aphorism returns to its motto—though it will seem more than questionable whether that also neutralizes the sting therein.110 At Matthew 10:16, Scripture places the ensuing in the mouth of its Messiah: “Ecce ego mitto vos sicut oves in medio luporum. Estote ergo prudentes sicut serpentes, et simplices sicut columbae” (Vulgate). “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves” (NIV).111 A lo humano: one might grace oneself by plainly shrouding—or ostensively eliding—one’s richness of spirit (see Mt 5:3; with chapter 7, herein). In a heuristic version, Schopenhauer interprets Gracián’s second sentence qua “to possess the slyness of the snake in addition to the dove’s white color of innocence” (“Hand-Orakel” 237n.; trans. dsm).112 This signals his having seen a number of implications—beyond the surface, between the lines. Not only bones may be whitewashed: to say naught of certain advantages with respect to birds of prey, the most resplendent scales will fare better still—if feathered.113

|| paloma. No ai cosa más fácil que engañar a un hombre de bien. Cree mucho el que nunca miente y confía mucho el que nunca engaña. No siempre procede de necio el ser engañado, que tal vez de bueno. Dos géneros de personas previenen mucho los daños: los escarmentados, que es mui a su costa, y los astutos, que es mui a la agena. Muéstrese tan estremada la sagacidad para el rezelo como la astucia para el enredo, y no quiera uno ser tan hombre de bien, que ocasione al otro el serlo de mal. Sea uno mixto de paloma y de serpiente; no mostro, sino prodigio” (Oráculo 234–235, §243); “mixto” might be trans. ‘mixture, blend, fusion, synthesis, mélange’. Cf. Schopenhauer’s expedient rendition: “N i c h t g ä n z l i c h e i n e T a u b e n n a t u r h a b e n ; sondern schlau wie die Schlange und ohne Falsch wie die Taube seyn. Nichts ist leichter, als einen redlichen Mann zu hintergehn. Viel glaubt, wer nie lügt, und Viel traut, wer nie täuscht. Es entspringt nicht allemal aus Dummheit, daß man betrogen wird; sondern bisweilen aus Güte. Zwei Arten von Leuten wissen sich gut vor Schaden zu hüten: die Erfahrnen, gar sehr auf ihre Kosten; und die Verschmitzten, gar sehr auf fremde. Die Klugheit gehe eben so weit […] im Argwohn, als die Verschmitztheit im Fallestellen, und Keiner wolle in dem Maaße redlich seyn, daß er den Andern Gelegenheit gebe unredlich zu seyn. Man vereinige in sich die Taube und die Schlange, nicht als ein Ungeheuer, vielmehr als ein Wunder” (“Hand-Orakel” 237, §243). Cf. Mayfield (Artful 227–228, 227n.–228n.). 110 It will be notable that the aphorism commences with a partial concession to the other animal (“No […] todo”); proceeds through an ‘alternation’ of natures (“Altérnense”); and arrives at their confluence (“mixto”) in a single organism (Oráculo 234–235, §243; cited above). 111 “Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves” (KJV). “He aquí, yo os envío como á ovejas en medio de lobos: sed pues prudentes como serpientes, y sencillos como palomas” (RVA). Perchance, those who appear to be crawling can fly: see Shakespeare (Ham [3rd] 315, III.i.66; 315n.); plus subch. 10.2.2, herein. 112 “die Schlauheit der Schlange zur weißen Unschuldsfarbe der Taube besitzen”. 113 Videlicet Mt 23:27; plus subch. 6.6.1.4, herein. On the aerial possibilities at issue, see Küpper’s reading of an orthodox variant (Discursive 419–420).

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Should one incline to a mixture of metaphors—seeing as such is precisely what the above also performs—the dove is here conceived of as the ‘sheepskin’ for the snakish ‘wolf’ beneath (so to speak).114 In other words: declarative kindness, or love, may well front for—or amount to—the killing (p)art.115 If Machiavelli’s textual manipulation of Scripture had seemed mala fide, conjuring up the vivid image of a winged viper will hardly fall far behind.116 Like the overall Oráculo, said aphorism is shot through with words referring to a veritable economy, or expedient handling. Conceptually—and in terms of content—recipients are induced to refer back to the thirteenth.117 Stating that ‘human life means to militate against man’s maliciousness’, it subtly advocates ‘deceiving with truth itself’ (Oráculo 107–109, §13).118 Contexts being contingent, the same may seem otherwise. A targeted reiteration of words (or sounds) has a tendency to prime the senses resourcefully.119 Repetition with (slight) variation will be a recurrent tool for manipulating audiences and readerships, via the ear or eye. Aphorism 26 speaks of “el arte de mover voluntades”—‘the craft of influencing, affecting, shaping and swaying the wills of alteri’ (“querer ageno”, Oráculo 116, §26). With a view to proceeding effectually (“eficaz”)—regarding their higher interests—speakers or writers might address an other’s most basic, even base (“ínfimo”) motives and drives linguistically (Oráculo 116, §26). By setting up specific ‘terms later employed’ (“tocarle el verbo después”), one ‘infallibly checkmates an alter’s freedom of choice or will’ (“infaliblemente dará mate al alvedrío”, Oráculo 117, §26). This aphorism performs said priming by varying words for ‘movere’ and the will—the Spanish version of a highly charged Latin concept (‘liberum arbitrium’) being the last note struck (Oráculo 116–117, §26).120

|| 114 Slightly elevating one of Blumenberg’s variations, one might say: “Das Falsche verschafft nicht nur Beute, es gewährt demzuvor auch noch” (Die nackte Wahrheit 56)—aircraftiness. 115 In respect of Mt 19:19, 22:39, it will be wise to begin with oneself; then see if anyone is left. 116 Viz. evidentia in the reader’s or audience’s mind. See Mayfield (Artful 228). 117 Apart from the mention of “Pitón” (Oráculo 109, §13), §13 links to §243 via the terms used: “sagazidad”, “engañar”, “astucia”, “candidez”, “calidez”, “candidez” (Oráculo 108–109, §13). 118 The above rewords the ensuing (likewise in what follows): “Milicia es la vida del hombre contra la malicia del hombre”; “engañar con la misma verdad”. As to the latter, cf. Küpper (“Jesuitismus” 435; “Jesuitismo” 40). On the former qua Stoic catchphrase, see A. U. Sommer (passim; spec. 73, 75). Cf. Vogt (633–634), cum grano salis. 119 The technical terms would be polýptoton, figura etymologica, paréchesis, paronomasía, etc. See Lausberg (Handbuch 322–329, §637–648; Elemente 90–91, §277–281). 120 “mover”, “voluntades”, “voluntad”, “motivar”, “impulso”, “querer”, “móbil”. See Küpper (“Jesuitismus” 426n., with 425–426; “Jesuitismo” 31–32, 32n.); Mayfield (Artful 249–251).

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Küpper stresses the metaphor’s violent martiality. As to the “advocated practice of manipulating a third party’s free will”, the scholar observes: “Yet then that forceful concluding sentence, which places the overall notion in a perspective that is problematic from a Christian viewpoint, or even antiChristian” (“Jesuitismus” 426, with 426n.; trans. dsm; and “Jesuitismo” 31). Characteristically, there are abysses in the nuances (to say naught of footnotes). Gracián’s mote for §210 counsels that one ‘know how to toy or juggle with the truth’ at hand (“Saber jugar de la verdad”); that one treat it ‘economically’ (Oráculo 217, §210).121 This premises its conceivable elseness, as the case may be. The text proceeds to offer a wide array of modes for manipulating a variety of recipients; while ever keeping in mind the appropriate—meaning, effectual— devices for accommodating, and so persuading, anyone.122 Human resources pertain to settings; being contingent, they can be modified deliberately. One is to ‘gild the disappointing or disillusioning’ (“dorar los desengaños”); fairly ‘sweeten’ (‘endulçar’) harsh or ‘bitter’ verities (“amargo”, “curar […] cosas amargas”); use bygone examples with implications for current cases: “Hase de hablar a los presentes en los passados” (Oráculo 217–218, §210; see 7.3, herein). By way of (re)application, the past may be otherwised—or relegated to oblivion. Should the interlocutor or addressee be discernful, perceptive, a subtle hint will likely suffice: “al buen Entendedor basta brujulear” (Oráculo 217, §210).123 If, where, or ‘when nothing else works, falling silent’—and even the respective ‘treatment’—will tend to have the desired effect: “quando nada bastare, entra el caso de enmudecer” (Oráculo 217, §210).124 Silence is polyvalent: what seems to be consentful could still be else; nor merely negative at that (see 8.3.2, herein).

|| 121 See Mayfield (Artful 234, 234n.). Cf. Robbins’ trans. of §210: “Know how to use the truth. It’s dangerous, but a good person can’t stop speaking it, so artifice is necessary. Skilled physicians of the mind have invented a way of sugaring the truth, for when it brings disillusionment, it is truly bitter. Make skilful use of a pleasant manner here: the same truth can flatter or lambast. Use the dead to speak to the living. Hints will suffice for the wise; when they don’t, it’s best to be silent. Princes must not be cured with bitter medicine; that’s what the art of gilding disillusion is for” (Pocket 79–80). Not a few verbal and phrasal choices being problematic (here as throughout that trans.), the argument ensuing above cites and renders from the source. 122 Cf. Radaelli’s description of accommodatio: “sich immer wieder neu situativ hineindenken und immer wieder eine andere Position beziehen” (132; with 147). 123 As said verb may evince, one will generally have to reckon with paronomasiae in Gracián. 124 Cf. (ps.-)Demetrius (496–497, §253–254). The persuasive potential and power of rhetorical exempla is also stressed: “Es tan retórico el exemplo superior, que aun las fealdades persuade” (Gracián Oráculo 204, §186). Throughout the above aphorism, talk is of craft(iness), dexterity, art qua technique: “artificio”, “modo”, “destreza”, “arte” (Oráculo 217–218, §210).

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The lateral tool of voicefully ‘sugarcoating’ everything—thereby to ease and expedite the intake of any content—is stressed in a most parrhesiastic aphorism: Words of silk, with suavity [or: suaveness] […]. A grand subtlety of living [is to] know how to sell the air. Most is paid for [hence purchased] with words […]. One is to perform one’s business [or: transactions; literally, negotiate] in the air with the air […]. One should always have the mouth replete with sugar for the glazing of words, in order for them to taste sweet [literally: good] even to one’s enemies. (Oráculo 245, §267; trans. dsm)125

Like any judicious Jesuit, Gracián practices what he preaches: here, the art of audience management. Being material, humans are susceptible of elseness. Plainly, the ‘poetic function’ is dominant throughout the Oráculo manual.126 This will have conduced to a number of construals as tend not to perceive said écriture’s ‘Untiefen’—its bluffs and shoals. Withal, the immoral, even inhumane implications of many passages tend to ‘fall into a praeteritio, an ellipsis’—as Küpper pertinently demonstrates (see “Jesuitismus” 431; “Jesuitismo” 36).127 Passim, the Pocket Oracle employs and performs the manipulative practices it (also) recommends. The attentive cannot but encounter subtly woven crossreferences: recontextualized, varied, undercut, even downright ‘falsified’ (as the case may be). The discreet will find themselves faced with varied repetitions— subliminally priming recipients for a number of quasi indexical terms. Regarding the form of delectatio endorsed in §267, recourse to Horace seems pertinent—“Not enough is it for poems to have beauty: they must have charm, and lead the hearer’s […] [mind, ‘animum’] where they will” (“Ars Poetica” 458– 459, v.99–100).128 Since psychagogically seductive suaveness does insinuate the same effect as “dulcia”, applications will be transgeneric.129 || 125 “Palabras de seda, con suavidad […]. Gran sutileza del vivir, saber vender el aire. Lo más se paga con palabras […]. Negóciase en el aire con el aire […]. Siempre se ha de llevar la voca llena de açúcar para confitar palabras, que saben bien a los mismos enemigos”. See Schopenhauer (“Hand-Orakel” 246, §267). 126 Adopting Jakobson’s term (cf. “Linguistics” 66; 69; 71–73; 81; 85; 93; and passim). 127 (See Oráculo 237, §251; Mayfield Artful 253). While latent, the abysses will be unavoidable. 128 “Non satis est pulchra esse poemata; dulcia sunto / et quocumque volent animum auditoris agunto”. Cf. Alford (Poetic Attention 276). 129 See Gracián’s use of “suavidad” (Oráculo 245, §267; cited above). Cf. Eden (in: Mayfield “Proceedings” 210); plus references in subchs. 5.2.2, 7.2.2, 8.2. Niehues-Pröbsting notes that— apart from the nexus or “affinity of rhetoric with violence” (the latter qua “psychological”, sc. verbally induced, virtual)—perceiving the art qua “inveiglement”, or “seduction”, tends to be “virulent to this day”: “Die Affinität der Rhetorik zur Gewalt ist die Leitvorstellung in Platons Gorgias, wie die zur Erotik die des Phaidros; beide Vorstellungen sind bis heute virulent: Rhetorik als psychische Gewalt und als Verführung” (“Glauben” 26; trans. dsm).

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Poetry persuades—and feckfully obfuscates the fact; or else suggests its own harmlessness, where said verity would not go unnoticed. Horace’s verses point to a similar remark on Valéry’s part.130

13.4 Operative Poetics where the wolves are killed off, the foxes increase. —Melville (Confidence-Man 10, §1; see 13.5, herein)

Poe and Valéry are masters of highly cultivated poetics as accentuate—and advocate—a willful manipulation of contingent recipients. Since technical matters tend to be supratemporal, one might commence with the latter.

13.4.1 Valéryan Technicalities Serpens nisi serpentem comederit non fit draco. —Bacon (“Essayes” 105, §40, ‘Of Fortune’)131

Entitled “Sur la technique littéraire”, an early—and most parrhesiastic—essai on the poet-philosopher’s part begins as follows: Literature is the art of toying with the soul of others. […] Given an impression, a dream, a thought, one must express it in such a manner that one produces[,] in the soul of a listener[,] the maximum of effect—and an effect entirely calculated by the artist. (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm)132

|| 130 See below; as well as Blumenberg (“Vieldeutigkeit” 118). 131 “A serpent must have eaten another serpent, before he can become a dragon” (“Essayes” 105). Schopenhauer cites this with approval (WWV I. 206, II, §27). See Bodmer’s felicitously performative rendition at the end: “Die Schlange wird nicht zum Drachen, es sei denn, sie habe eine Schlange verschlungen” (Lütkehaus/Bodmer 43, glossing 206.20). In said respect, it might seem insufficient still to simply “gaze on” a snake one happens to have “slain” (“serpentem spectas? et tu spectabere serpens”: Ovid Metamorph. I–VIII. 130–131, III.98; see III.90–105); and then to “pray” for a resp. conversion (“ipse precor serpens”, Metamorph. I–VIII. 218–219, IV.575; with 220–221, IV.594); or else caress one (“lubrica permulcet cristati colla draconis”, Metamorph. I–VIII. 220–221, IV.599; plus IV.595–603). Cf. Melville: “Out of old materials sprang a new creature. Cadmus glided into the snake” (Confidence-Man 185, §32; with 185n.). At their own expense, self-reliant and contained humans would likely advance plus ultra. 132 “La littérature est l’art de se jouer de l’âme des autres. […] Étant donnés une impression, un rêve, une pensée, il faut l’exprimer de telle manière, qu’on produise dans l’âme d’un auditeur le maximum d’effet — et un effet entièrement calculé par l’Artiste” (cf. Dichtkunst 227).

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Sophistic affinities being virtually explicit, one might have recourse to a corresponding source: “persuasion proceeding via speech impresses the soul at will [‘τὴν ψυχὴν ἐτυπώσατο ὅπως ἐβούλετο’]” (“Helen” 758–759, 49.13).133 Another fairly notorious Gorgianic dictum likewise accentuates economy—qua ‘minimal expense, maximum effect’: Speech is a great potentate [‘λόγος δυνάστης μέγας ἐστίν’], who by means of the tiniest and most invisible body achieves the most godlike results. (“Helen” 758–759, 49.8)134

Whereas the Sophist employs political and magical metaphors (inter alia), Valéry refers to “cette brutalité scientifique” to assess his view (“technique” 1786).135 In marked contrast to Horace’s rather suave suggestion of persuasion, the present practitioner and theorist articulates his poetics with considerable harsh- and frankness. Candidly, he stresses the measure of impact above all.136 Hence end focus marks a sort of leitmotif in said essai: “the poem […] has no other aim than preparing its finale” (“technique” 1786–1787; trans. dsm).137 In a comparative, transgeneric view, Aristotle’s rule for tragedy might be adduced:

|| 133 A segment from that Gorgianic Encomium—evincing the power of words (cf. Burckhardt Griech. Kultur. III. 314)—sounds like Valéry’s dictum. “That persuasion proceeding via speech impresses the soul at will, can be seen by studying: […] the accounts of the cosmologists who produce one opinion after another, taking away this one, imposing that, making incredible and inscrutable things appear to the eyes of belief; […] the compelling contests of words [‘λόγων ἀγῶνας’] in which one speech captures the fancy of the crowd [‘ὄχλον’] and having been composed artfully persuades [‘ἔπεισε τέχνηι γραφείς’] everyone, though it is spoken falsely; […] the verbal competitions [‘λόγων ἁμίλλας’] of philosophers, in which quick thinking is displayed, showing how changeable is the belief in an opinion” (“Helen” 758–759, 49.13). 134 The Greek has “ἔργα” for the latter. Cf. Blumenberg: “Die Magie bewegt mit dem nichtigen Hauch eines Wörtchens eine ganze Welt – sie ist souverän über die errechenbare Beziehungen von Ursache und Wirkung” (“Feuilletons” 59). 135 “that scientific brutality” (trans. dsm). Cf. Blumenberg on a Valéryan letter (Beschreibung 717–719). Gorgias weights ‘érga’ (that performative dream—like ‘fiat lux’: Küpper “Performanz” 10). So the Sophist’s ensuing accent is consistent. “Two arts [‘τέχναι’] of witchcraft [‘γοητείας’] and magic [‘μαγείας’] can be identified: those producing errors of the soul and those producing deceptions of judgment” (“Helen” 758–759, 49.10). Cf. Krauthausen: “Poiesis […] ist für Valéry der gemeinsame Nenner von Künsten, Philosophie und Wissenschaften” (56; see 57). 136 As the aforesaid and ensuing terms or phrases signal: a “final artificial fireworks” (“feu d’artifice final”); “to produce manifold effects” (“produire de multiples effets”); “with a view to a final effect” (“en vue d’un effet final”; “technique” 1786; trans. dsm); “the overpowering effect” (“l’effet accablant”); “with a view to an effect” (“en vue d’un effet”; “technique” 1787; trans. dsm); “the concluding effect” (“l’effet terminal”; “technique” 1788; trans. dsm). 137 “le poème […] n’a d’autre but que de préparer son dénouement”. Later in this essay, Valéry uses the term “Leit motive ou motif dominant” (“technique” 1788).

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“the goal is the most important thing of all” (“τὸ δὲ τέλος μέγιστον ἁπάντων”, “Poetics” 50–51, 1450a, §6). Poe would follow the latter to the letter.138 Any poetics (or ‘aesthetics’) of effect is bound to be downright rhetorical. Though said term does not seem to be used in the essai at issue; and despite the fact that Valéry calls his take “an entirely new and modern conception of the poet” (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm)—countering a Platonico-Romanticist one— his art of poetry tenders a variation on the venerable view of literary production and reception.139 Its very title stands to reason (with emphasis on: “technique” 1786). Much the same may be said of the telling phrase “to serve exclusively for” (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm).140 Implying the aptum, Valéry also accentuates ‘thematic adequacy’ (“adéquat à l’objet”, “technique” 1786; trans. dsm). The rhetorical érga of inventio, dispositio, elocutio are alluded to via the imagery of “diverse registers on the claviature of expression” (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm); here as a kind of copia (“timbres”, “vitesses rythmiques”)—whence to select (“choix”) the most expedient means (“technique” 1786; trans. dsm).141 The second office is echoed in “design” (“dessein”, “technique” 1786; trans. dsm); expressly: “tout est disposé pour fixer l’attention” (“technique” 1787).142 An artist’s experiences (“qu’il aura imaginé, senti, songé, échafaudé”) are of heuristic use; subjected to a diligent process of selection (“passera au crible”, “pesé”), arrangement, ‘composition’ (“composé”), shaping (“mis à la forme”), refinement (“épuré”), ‘concentration’ (“quintessence”, “concentré”, “réduit”), ‘condensation’ (“condensé”), and distillation (“cohobé”, “technique” 1786).143

|| 138 “It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents, and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention” (“Composition” 675). 139 “une conception toute nouvelle et moderne du poète”. The contradicted stance is referred to via ideas such as ‘inspiration’, ‘genius’, an—implicitly Platonic—‘furor’ (“le délirant”, “fièvre”; “technique” 1786; cf. Blumenberg Lebensthemen 148). Poe offers a similar rejection: “Most writers—poets in especial—prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy—an ecstatic intuition—and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes, at the elaborate and vacillating crudities of thought” (“Composition” 676). His view of the poetic practitioner is that of a “literary histrio” (“Composition” 676). Generally as to the above, cf. Schaeffer (Art of the Modern Age passim; spec. 92, 102). 140 “servir uniquement à”. See Lausberg: “dispositio” aims at “utilitas” (Handbuch 245, §446). 141 “diverses notes dans le clavier de l’expression” (cf. also Dichtkunst 227). On “dispositio” from—and as to—“copia”, see Lausberg (Elemente 27, §46; plus Handbuch 241–245, §443–446). 142 “everything is arranged to fixate the attention” (trans. dsm). 143 While of general import, the passage has a particular focus: “tout ce qu’il aura imaginé, senti, songé, échafaudé, passera au crible, sera pesé, épuré, mis à la forme et condensé le plus possible pour gagner en force ce qu’il sacrifie en longueur: un sonnet, par exemple, sera une

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Valéry’s figurative recourse—to chemical, metallurgical, cuisine-related subtleties—cannot obscure that his mode, drift, and focus are plainly rhetorical. Referring to the “Philosophy of Composition”, he chooses to employ terms insinuating the art: “mécanisme”, “pratique”, “technique” (“technique” 1787). The later theorist logs Poe’s ‘inductive’ approach (“induction”), his ‘utilization’ (“utilise”) of what human beings are always already primed for: “He knew well the immense part played by habitude and automatism in our cognitive life” (“technique” 1787; trans. dsm).144 Even so, the latter are subject to contingency; hence may well be tampered with—deliberately, by design. To handle recipients, a craftsman will ‘employ’ (“employée”, “employé”, “l’emploi”, “l’emploi”) ‘repetition’ (“répétition”, “refrain”, “allitérations fréquentes”, “refrain”) with ‘artful’ variation (“artificieusement”, “judicieux”, “délibérée”: “technique” 1787). By virtue of cultured skill, Valéry performatively avails himself of said tool throughout his metapoetical treatise.145

13.4.2 Poesque Expectations Bestow upon the eyes […] Some vanity of mine art. It is my promise, And they expect it from me. —Shakespeare (Tem 245, IV.i.40–42) poems that do only what we expect of them should not bear the title[.] —Alford (Poetic Attention 276)

With respect to the virtuoso manipulation of recipients, one could not overstress the centrality of Poe’s “Philosophy of Composition”. For the purposes at hand, his study of some length will be condensed to its rhetorical factors (in the main). The Baltimorean employs technical léxis to describe the poetics advocated. Within the first three paragraphs, he uses “mechanism”, “mode of procedure”, “process”, “mode of constructing” (“Composition” 675); then “modus operandi” (“Composition” 676). Poe takes the totality of possible fallouts as his copia:

|| véritable quintessence, un osmazôme, un suc concentré, et cohobé, réduit à quatorze vers, soigneusement composé en vue d’un effet final et foudroyant” (“technique” 1786). 144 “Connaissant bien la part immense que l’habitude et l’automatisme ont dans notre vie mentale”. In general terms, cf. also subchs. 2.6, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 8.4, 9.2, 9.3, 9.4, 11.1.1, herein. 145 Cf. e.g. “auront été frappés de la force du refrain artificieusement employé” (“technique” 1787)—in a context of internal rhymes, ‘frequent alliterations’, varied ‘repetitions’.

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I prefer commencing with the consideration of an effect. […] I say to myself […][:] ‘Of the innumerable effects, or impressions, of which the heart, the intellect, or (more generally) the soul is susceptible, what one shall I, on the present occasion, select?’ Having chosen a novel […] and […] vivid effect, I consider whether it can best be wrought by incident or tone […]—afterward looking about me (or rather within) for such combinations of event, or tone, as shall best aid me in the construction of the effect. (“Composition” 676)

This process is rhetorical, with utilitas always in view.146 Along Aristotelianizing lines, Poe later avers: “Here then the poem may be said to have its beginning— at the end, where all works of art should begin” (“Composition” 680). In the above, recourse is had to common faculties; meaning, what humans already are, hence may also be made, “susceptible” of or to, under specific circumstances—moods and minds being contingent. Ever will particulars be of general import also: “I kept steadily in view the design of rendering the work universally appreciable” (“Composition” 678).147 Recipients capable of hearing or reading the corresponding sounds and letters pertain to a peculiar species of mammal, which—all differences notwithstanding—do share a good (and raw) deal of what makes them downright human. Based on the aforesaid copia, a process of choice and disposition sets in (“select”, “combinations”).148 This is elaborated along the lines of the aptum: meaning, via devices most likely conducive to achieving the desired outcome— under the conditions, and for the particular case, at hand (“on the present occasion”, “best”).149 Later, Poe will accentuate “that objects should be attained through means best adapted for their attainment” (“Composition” 678)—a rhetorical recommendation outright.150 Contexts are contingent. Withal, ‘vividness’ (evidentia) is emphasized; and ‘poietic’ craftsmanship underscored by the words “construction”, “wrought” (“Composition” 676).151 On the whole, this attentive process of “composition” is said to be characterized by || 146 Jakobson refers to Poe’s “verbal art”, “verbal structure”; “the insight of an artist and analyst combined”; “[h]is skilled employment” (“Language” 58). 147 This remains a benchmark later: “The universality of its employment [sc. of the ‘refrain’] sufficed to assure me of its intrinsic value” (“Composition” 678); “according to the universal understanding of mankind” (“Composition” 679). 148 Cf. “the choice of an impression, or effect, to be conveyed” (“Composition” 677). 149 Poe also uses “decorum” (“Composition” 676) qua criterion for his metapoetic reflections (see “in keeping with”, “Composition” 679). As to the latter, cf. Jakobson: “the author of ‘The Raven’ formulated perfectly the relationship between poetic language and its translation into what now would be called the metalanguage of scientific analysis” (“Language” 56). 150 Via figura etymologica, pertinent concepts are variously repeated within a rather dense space: “attained”, “attainment”, “attained”, “attainable”, “attainable” (“Composition” 678). 151 Both are iterated in close proximity later: “skillfully […] vivid” (“Composition” 683).

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“precision”, a perspicuous “design” (“Composition” 677). The alternative is implied—as the very matter being treated to form. Detailing the steps taken, Poe reaccentuates the supreme aim—notoriously styled “unity of impression”, “totality, or unity of effect” (“Composition” 677).152 To achieve this (and not lose it en route), he stresses brevitas (“brief”, “brief”, “brief”)—as had virtually every rhetorical treatise since Antiquity: the brevity must be in direct ratio of the intensity of the intended effect: […] with one proviso—that a certain degree of duration is absolutely requisite for the production of any effect at all. (“Composition” 677; see spec. Demetrius 496–497, §253–254)

Contingent conditions render repetition with variation feasible. An artist may deliberately allow—and partly provide—for the space and time this takes. Poe’s arch-rhetorical notion—that “Beauty” be “an effect” (“Composition” 678)—seamlessly aligns with Sophistic, Gorgianic assumptions. Epideictically granting primacy to the first, he insinuates the triad of delectare, docere, movere by recourse to the terms “Beauty”, “Truth”, “Passion” (“Composition” 678). As would seem natural, Poe will likewise apply the principle of probability (eikós) qua measure (“a sufficiently plausible reason”, “Composition” 679).153 Consistently, the theorist’s concept of “originality” runs counter to Platonico-

|| 152 Plus: “poetical effects”, “poetical effect” (“Composition” 677). 153 Cf. “within the limits of the accountable” (“Composition” 683). Familiarity, plausibility are interwoven: “εἰκὸς”, “probably” (Gorgias “Helen” 756–757, 49.5); “εἰκός” (Aristotle Rhet. 26, 1357a–b, I.ii.15; plus Freese “Glossary” 475), tying in with “εἰκὸς” in a poetic context via the “καθόλου”—incl. reference to “πιθανόν” (“Poetics” 58–63, 1451a–b, IX.1–18, 30–35). Generally, the latter is saturated with rhetorical taxonomy. Sansone highlights this for “[t]he distribution of the word εἰκός”: “although the Poetics comprises only one percent of the Aristotelian corpus […], it contains nearly 10 percent of the occurrences (25 out of 254) […] of εἰκός”; in “the Rhetoric”, which is considerably longer, there are “51 occurrences”; hence “the contriver of tragic plots must be every bit as concerned with probability as the orator in the law court, perhaps even more so” (168). Küpper stresses “wie oft Aristoteles in dem […] bis an die Grenze der Verständlichkeit knappen Text [sc. the Poetics] an die Anforderung der Wahrscheinlichkeit erinnert” (“Tragödiensatz” 14). “In der gesamten Argumentation zur Gattung Tragödie bzw. Epos zählt letztlich […] die Wirkungs-Dimension, nicht die Frage von Möglichkeit oder Unmöglichkeit, sondern die von Glaubwürdigkeit oder Unglaubwürdigkeit” (“Tragödiensatz” 13n.). See Plato’s use of “εἰκός” in connection with “φαίνεται” (“seems sensible”)—in a context referring to assumptions sans the possibility of definitive knowledge (“Phaedo” 216–217, 62C, §7). Generally, cf. Burckhardt: “das Geltendmachen des Plausiblen (εἰκος)” (Griech. Kultur. III. 304). As to “probabile, credibile, verisimile”, ‘pithanón’, see Lausberg (Elemente 23–24, §34–38); Most (71); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 11–12; 26; 30n.; 49; 86; 92n.; 94, 94n.; 104, 104n.; 106; 108n.; 114n.; 134; 145n.; 152n.; 156; 158n.; 171; 176; 183; 195).

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Romanticizing irrationalities: it “is by no means a matter, as some suppose, of impulse or intuition” (“Composition” 681). What he then gives as being so might be described as an assembling, combining, refunctionalizing of extant shapes, devices, set pieces—an utterly artful take and tendency. The ensuing marks Poe’s variation on the musico-rhetorical theorem of slightly altered reiterations (whose condition of possibility is contingency): The pleasure [of ‘the refrain’] is deduced solely from the sense of identity—of repetition. I resolved to diversify, and so vastly heighten, the effect, by adhering, in general, to the monotone of sound, while I continually varied that of thought: that is to say, I determined to produce continuously novel effects, by the variation of the application of the refrain— the refrain itself remaining, for the most part, unvaried. (“Composition” 679)154

Assessing Poe’s variegated modus operandi as “particularly effective”, Jakobson speaks of a “multiformity of contexts” (“Language” 58). Needless to say, both factors are iterated with significant frequency; and in virtually any conceivable way.155 The word “refrain” returns no less than ten times (see Poe “Composition” 678–679); and the discourse to its basso ostinato, once more. Accordingly, the attentive and discerning will be facing a mise en abyme du dispositif.156 To all intents or purposes, this descriptively verisimilar, theoreticoperformative poetics repeats with variation the very theory—and terms referring to the precise process—it describes.157

|| 154 Cf. “Since its application was to be repeatedly varied, it was clear that the refrain itself must be brief”; “frequent variations of application”. “In proportion to the brevity of the sentence, would, of course, be the facility of the variation” (“Composition” 679). 155 “repetition”, “repeatedly”, “repetition”, “repeating”, “repeating” (“Composition” 679); “varied”, “variation”, “unvaried”, “varied”, “variations”, “variation” (“Composition” 679). Cf. “repeating”, “varying”, “repeated”, “variation”, “vary and graduate” (“Composition” 680); “variety”, “varieties” (“Composition” 681). Jakobson ties in therewith using these rhetorical formulations: “with a slight variation blended”; “and this variation serves” (“Language” 55)— the accent being on “slight”, “serves”. Cf. spec. “The invariance of the group is particularly stressed by the variation in its order” (“Linguistics” 87). 156 As to the latter (here mutatis mutandis), see especially Kablitz: “eine mise en abîme […] [des] poetischen Verfahrens” (“Verfahren” 68); Küpper (Discursive 330; with 362, 364, 373; “Universalismus” 443; Schweigen 4); Mayfield (Ventriloquism 3n.; 12, 12n.; 17n.; 41; 117; 171n.; 173n.; 185n.; 198n.); subchs. 5.1.2, 5.2, and 12.3, herein. 157 Cf. “bearing in mind my design of varying, at every turn, the application of the word repeated”; “the effect of the variation of application” (“Composition” 680).

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Said device involves the situation of reception—a deliberate manipulation of audiences, readerships; notably for purposes of tapping into, and tampering with, their priming and presumptions.158 Echoing the Baltimorean, Jakobson observes that “[‘]unexpectedness must arise from expectedness’” (“Language” 52); hence portrays “Poe” as “the poet and theoretician of defeated anticipation” (“Linguistics” 77); as “a deliberate experimenter in [an] anticipatory, regressive modus operandi, […] a master in ‘writing backwards’” (“Linguistics” 86).159 Perchance, the latter may yield a poetic variation on the contingency of the past. In keeping with its precepts, the (potential) effects on auditors and perusers are reaccentuated toward the end of that “Philosophy of Composition”. The preliminary focus is on an attempt at “increas[ing], by prolonging, the reader’s curiosity” (“Composition” 682); then, on having recipients take the perspective of the poem’s speaker: This revolution of thought, or fancy, on the lover’s part, is intended to induce a similar one on the part of the reader—to bring the mind into a proper frame for the dénouement[.] (“Composition” 683)

Intensifying curiositas is a dianoetico-hedonistic factor in the overall process of producing persuasiveness (cognitive delectatio). The second expressly pertains to movere—influencing, stimulating, manufacturing a recipient’s present state of heart or head. Moods and humors will likely be among the most manifest immaterialities susceptible of else- and chancefulness. Enabled by the latter, rhetoric is the art of tampering with the former. With the above quotes from Poe or Valéry, Horace and Gorgias, one might compare a remark in pseudo-‘Longinus’:

|| 158 In a spec. case, Jakobson notes that “Poe employs a species of etymological figure”, which “[s]emantically […] prepares” readers for what follows (“Language” 59). Hence “the sound texture” may yield content-related effects: “Such punlike, pseudo-etymological figures, by involving words similar in sound, stress their semantic affinity” (“Language” 60; with 88). “In a sequence in which similarity is superimposed on contiguity, two similar phonemic sequences near to each other are prone to assume a paronomastic function. Words similar in sound are drawn together in meaning. […] Poe’s ‘Raven’ makes wide use of repetitive alliterations […] but ‘the overwhelming effect’ […] is due primarily to the sway of poetic etymology” (“Linguistics” 86). See the reference to a ‘coalescence of sense and sound’, at the onset of ch. 13, herein. 159 On noetic ventriloquism, countering expectation, as well as a recipient’s complicity, see Aristotle (Rhet. 408–409, 1412a, III.xi.6). Generally, cf. Blumenberg as to manufacturing a common ground: “Technisierung […] produziert […] Selbstverständlichkeit” (zur Technik 190).

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composition [‘σύνθεσιν’] […] is a kind of melody [‘ἁρμονίαν’] in words […], bringing into the hearts of the bystanders the speaker’s actual emotion [‘πάθος’] so that all who hear him share in it […][;] it casts a spell on us […], winning a complete mastery over our minds [‘διανοίας’][.] (287, 39.3)

As Blumenberg observes, ‘humans are at the mercy of their receptiveness’ (see Legitimität 226).160 Like any and all matter, internal affairs will be subject to contingency—perchance, a fortiori. What can be otherwise naturally might also be manipulated artfully: effects are in- and producible. From the perspective of poets, this state of play yields the variable terrain, whereon their virtuoso rationality may well assert its supremacy.

13.5 Wordcraft and Chancefulness Die klassischen Kategorien einer durch Vernunft legitimierten Ordnung decken das Phänomen [‘der Macht’] nur teilweise, der Rest wird dem Zynismus angelastet, wie ihn die Sophisten, Machiavelli oder Nietzsche vermeintlich repräsentieren. —Bubner (“Vorwort” V)161 Sie bekommen, was sie aufs sehnlichste wünschen – werden sie betrogen? —Blumenberg (Vor allem 87)162

Such as side with the Kantian construal could suggest that poetic manipulation is comparatively innocuous—artworks being conceived of as ‘autonomous’. In a rhetorico-technical—hence syn- or diachronically polyfunctional—perspective, || 160 “Rezeptivität liefert den Menschen […] aus” (Legitimität 226; infinitized). For a spec. case of figuratively tapping into a primed state, see Blumenberg’s ensuing sample—observing “daß eine Metapher von dieser epochalen Bedeutung [i.e. ‘kopernikanische Wendung’, here] die konstruktive Imagination des Lesers ingangsetzt, noch bevor er zu Ende gelesen hat” (GKW III. 702). In the same context: “Das genügt für alles, was hier erforderlich ist, um die Anschauung des Lesers zu affizieren” (GKW III. 704). The implication will be ‘power over minds’ (cf. “Staatstheorie” 122; Höhlen. 34–35): effectuality by way of economy—minimal effort, utmost effect. As to the former, see below; and subch. 7.2.2, herein. 161 “The Classical categories of an order legitimized by Reason cover the phenomenon [‘of power’] only in part[;] the remainder is ascribed to the cynicism supposedly personified in the Sophists, Machiavelli or Nietzsche” (trans. dsm). 162 “They obtain, what they desire most eagerly – are they being deceived?” (trans. dsm). Cf. Küpper with respect to the “illusionsanfällige, wenn nicht gar -begierige Wesen ‘Mensch’” (“Tragödiensatz” 25). Blumenberg accentuates: “Der universal Betrogene kann nicht daran interessiert sein, […] aus dem Trug seines Traumes je zu erwachen; nur die partiell Betrogenen sind betroffen von der Brüchigkeit ihrer Illusionen, indem sie immer wieder sich mit der Wirklichkeit arrangieren müssen” (Realität 83; plus 58–59, 89–91; and “Glossen [1983]” 32–33).

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a purposively ‘depragmatized’ take on literature can never actually apply, having no fundamentum in re.163 Most probably, such uncontextual speculation will simply mark yet another plausibly persuasive ploy from the oratorical arsenal itself. For said stratagem seems very much in line with diverse devices—semiotic means, maneuvers—of audience management, recurrently prevalent since Ancient times. With respect to the art, one will be dealing with downright human, decidedly transgeneric— even universally expedient—techniques for rendering well-nigh anything likely, convincing, captivating, memorable.164 Etymologically, ‘manipulation’ intimates a certain ‘chiropraxy’: having a ‘hand’ in, ‘managing’ something. Its field of application may be material. Not seldom, the effects are primarily virtual, as Blumenberg stresses: “power over minds”—“only this will ultimately be factual power” (Höhlen. 35; trans. dsm).165 For they are ‘lost’ if “dominated against their will” (“Staatstheorie” 132; trans. dsm).166 A deft “assimilation of perspectives” (Penzkofer Bedeutungsaufbau 61; plus 68–70, 77; trans. dsm) evinces a tendency to appear more humane. Accordingly, artful fraud—a suave employment of force—would seem the cultural way to proceed. Isocrates duly logs that said animals are potentially

|| 163 Generally, see Blumenberg: “der Funktionalisierung der Theorie […], ihrer technischen Mediatisierung, geht […] der Verlust ihrer Selbstzwecklichkeit voraus” (Legitimität 230). 164 Küpper gives “rhetoric” as “a trans-generic system of diction” (Discursive 289). Cf. “Die Technik der Rede erscheint […] als der spezielle Fall von geregelten Weisen des Verhaltens, das etwas zu verstehen gibt, Zeichen setzt, Übereinstimmung bewirkt oder Widerspruch herausfordert. Ein Schweigen, eine sichtbare Unterlassung in einem Verhaltenskontext können so rhetorisch werden wie ein vom Blatt abgelesener Aufschrei” (Blumenberg “Annäher. [2001]” 407). With respect to Sophistic ‘techniques’, he stresses a “Trennung von Sachverstand und Sachbeherrschung” (Lebenswelt 188; cf. 189). See his remarks on such practitioners, on their devices of inveiglement from a Platonic angle (Lebenswelt 166; 175; 179; 219; “Annäher. [2001]” 406–408; 430; on the Enlightenment reception, Lebenszeit 235; 237). Cf. subchs. 8.2, 11.1. 165 See ps.-Longinus: “παντοίως ἡμῶν τῆς διανοίας ἐπικρατοῦσαν” (286–287, §39.3). With Blumenberg’s context: “der Barde oder Mime, der sich am Ende vor dem von ihm gebannten Publikum verneigt, hat mehr Macht ausgeübt als irgend ein Hordenvater, Rottenführer, Generalsekretär oder Funktionär jemals erreichen kann: Macht über Köpfe – und nur sie wird schließlich reelle Macht sein” (Höhlen. 34–35). Cf. “Sprache evoziert Wirklichkeit, und darin liegt das Potential von Macht als Verfügung über Wirklichkeit” (Realität 19). Cf. subch. 7.2.2. 166 Plus context: “Heute heißt, industrielle und militärische Kapazitäten zu beherrschen, über die ‘Köpfe’ im engeren und engsten Sinne, also nicht mehr in dem der pars pro toto, zu verfügen. […] weil man die Köpfe dadurch verliert, daß man sie gegen ihren Willen beherrscht” (“Staatstheorie” 132). As a spec. pertinent device, Blumenberg tenders the ensuing technique of downright universal application: “Auch die manipulierte äußere Krise als Instrument innerer Stabilisierung von Macht ist geläufiges politisches Handwerk” (“Staatstheorie” 122).

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capacitated to “settle their mutual differences by reason [‘μετὰ λόγου’, verbally] and not by violence [‘μετὰ βίας’]” (“Panegyricus” 142–143, 48.40); by virtue of SPEECH, […] without which, there had been amongst men, neither Common-wealth, nor Society, nor Contract, nor Peace, no more than amongst Lyons, Bears, and Wolves. (Hobbes Three-Text Ed. 24, L.I.4.1)167

‘Lógos’ will be just another paradiastolic term for feckful forms of indirection. Matters being susceptible of elseness, one may well have (had) a hand therein. Impact validates itself. Influence is its own rationalization. Impressions tend to be of ‘momentaneous evidence’.168 Naught could be more convincing than fallouts. Rhetoric’s core tenet is distilled into Machiavelli’s collocation “verità effettuale” (Principe 102, XV.3).169 Consequences carry the day. Being the weightiest arguments, it would hardly seem plausible to ‘argue with results’.170

|| 167 (Cf. Leviathan 24, I.iv, [12]). In an affine context, Hobbes has this enumeratio: “homo lupos, ursos, serpentes” (“de Homine” 91, II.10.3; with “Man” 40, X.3; Bubner Antike Themen 195). As to the above (de re), see Homer (Odyssey 1–12. 344–345, 9.408); Snell (247–248; 254). Niehues-Pröbsting affirms this as ‘rhetoric’s basic tenet’: “Der Fundamentalsatz der Rhetorik von der Überredung als Alternative zur Gewalt” (“Glauben” 28)—yet another oratorical device. Most likely, the art’s ‘fundamental statement’ and decisive standard will be: ‘in effect we trust’ (see Machiavelli Principe 102, XV.3). Niehues-Pröbsting does allow for “die ambivalente Macht des Wortes, Gewalt zu schüren und zu ersetzen” (“Glauben” 33). He accentuates “den Topos von der Substitution der Gewalt durch Rede, in dem sich von Anfang an das humanistische Selbstverständnis der antiken Rhetorik artikuliert”—spec. “[i]n dem frühesten Manifest der Rhetorik, der Helena-Rede des Erzrhetors Gorgias”: “Ohne Gewalt anzuwenden bewirkt die Überredung dasselbe wie Gewalt; ‘mit dem kleinsten und unscheinbarsten Körper’ – dem Wort – ‘verbringt sie göttlichste Taten’ […]. Die wesentliche Leistung der rhetorischen Kunst besteht in der Ersetzung der Gewalt durch Rede. Dadurch wird die Rhetorik zur menschlichen Kunst schlechthin, denn der Mensch wird zum Menschen, indem er seine Konflikte nicht mehr wie die Tiere durch Gewalt, sondern durch Überredung austrägt, wie es Isokrates in seinem Lobpreis auf den Logos sagt” (“Glauben” 25). In the Gorgianic case, with oikonomía: minimal expense, maximum effect. 168 On the latter (here mutatis mutandis), see Blumenberg (e.g. at “Möglichkeit [2001]” 49); the concept’s rhetorical bases and bearings are pertinently accentuated in a posthumously published segment especially (Realität 44–46). For further references, cf. subch. 5.1.2, herein. 169 “effectual verity” (trans. dsm). Since neologisms may seem permissible when serving a descriptive purpose, one might indeed suggest rendering the former by virtue of a pertinent portmanteau: ‘effactuality’. See also Mayfield (Ventriloquism 54; 57n.; 103n.; 105n.; 114n.; 115; 135; 136; 147n.; 149n.; 151n.; 158; 181; spec. 190; 191n.; 197n.). 170 Cf. “Der Sinn der Griechen für Wirkung, statt für Wirklichkeit, ist für Jacob Burckhardt die Basis der Rhetorik” (Blumenberg “Annäher. [2001]” 412; re Burckhardt Griech. Kultur. I. 221).

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By virtue of oratory, the poetic and politic(al) arts reciprocate, coalesce.171 Stage- and statecraft are never far apart.172 Not incidentally, the Greek terms ‘téchne’ and ‘mechané’ sport a certain affinity; or all but blend—for instance, in the ethos characteristically ascribed to a notable embodiment of ‘polytropic’ craft.173 Mayhap with respect to Odysseus in particular, one might intimate that a kind of rhetorical engineering is at play.174 The tools, fitting pieces, surely are. Apropos an Early Modern hypólepsis, Blumenberg logs: “Machiavelli uses the model of Aristotelian hylemorphism, in order to associate political action with the categories of the artes mechanicae” (“Staatstheorie” 125; trans. dsm).175 Matter being contingent, so are the forms temporarily impressed: they cannot but differ (as the agents will); but might as well be otherwised deliberately.176 An affine line by the poet Antiphon is preserved at the onset of a Peripatetic treatise concerning the aforesaid field of study: τέχνῃ γὰρ κρατοῦμεν, ὧν φύσει νικώμεθα. We by skill gain mastery over things in which we are conquered by nature. (ps.-Aristotle “Mechanica” 330–331, 847a)177

|| 171 ‘Faith’ may be ‘engineered’: “wie Glaube […] vom Redner bewerkstelligt wird” (NiehuesPröbsting “Glauben” 16). “Die artifiziellen Mittel sind die in und mit der Rede bewerkstelligten Gründe” (“Glauben” 17). As to ‘entechnicity’ (Aristotle Rhet. 14–15, 1355b, I.ii.2), see Mayfield (Ventriloquism 8; 10n.; 12n.; 34n.; 66–67, 66n.–68n.; 75n.; 76; 91n.; 94n.; 107n.; 146n.; 195). 172 Blumenberg syndicates the “art of the state” (“Kunst des Staates, die arte dello stato”) with the “artificiality of power” (“Künstlichkeit der Macht”, “Staatstheorie” 125; trans. dsm). 173 Cf. “Überlistung der Natur […] steckt schon im griechischen Ursprung des Ausdrucks ‘Mechanik’”; “diese als List und Trick verstandene Mechanik” (Blumenberg Geistesgeschichte 18). “Mechanik war ein Inbegriff solcher Listen” (Geistesgeschichte 19): “das Gesetz […] mit Geschick übertreten und sich […] Vorteil erlisten” (Geistesgeschichte 18–19). In this respect, the Ancient ‘machinist’ par excellence will be the polytropic Odysseus. 174 Above all, Homer: “the man of many devices [‘πολύτροπον’]” (Odyssey 1–12. 12–13, 1.1). “Odysseus of many devices [‘πολυμήχαν(ε)’]” (Odyssey 1–12. 434–435, 11.473); “resourceful [‘πολύμητις’] Odysseus” (Odyssey 13–24. 340–341, 21.404; 442–443, 24.406); inter alia. 175 “Machiavelli verwendet das Modell des aristotelischen Hylemorphismus, um das politische Handeln den Kategorien der artes mechanicae zuzuordnen” (“Staatstheorie” 125). 176 Cf. “la occasione […] dette loro materia a potere introdurvi dentro quella forma che parse loro” (Machiavelli Principe 33, VI.10); “era materia che dessi occasione a uno prudente e virtuoso d’introdurvi forma” (Principe 168, XXVI.1); “non manca materia da introdurvi ogni forma” (Principe 172, XXVI.16). See Mayfield (Artful 155–156, 155n.–156n.; 167n.; 170, 170n.). Blumenberg stresses: “Die Blüte der Rhetorik […] ist immer […] ein Indiz für den Spielraum zumindest der Unterstellung, die Bürger und Richter und Beamten des Gemeinwesens seien eine plastische und gestaltbare Masse” (with “rhetorische Manipulierbarkeit”, Realität 41). 177 The Peripatetic glosses this with a rhetorical trope: “Of this kind are those in which the less master the greater [‘τά τε ἐλάττονα κρατεῖ τῶν μειζόνων’]” (“Mechanica” 331, 847a). See

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While some might say that such should surely go unsaid, a scholarly take could not pretermit this ‘effactuality’: either of the above alternatives will include—or involve—other human beings. From the perspective of Machiavelli’s interplay between poetics and power politics—or Gracián’s courtly synergy of textual artifice and pragmatic counsel—Kant’s doctrine cannot but seem unworldly. Even so, it will always also matter what audiences, spectators, readers expect: what they came—are in, or primed—for.178 Artful virtuosity and vicarious acuteness do provide recipients with delight—as Poe’s and Valéry’s explicitly crafty poetics accentuate indeed.179 Having agreed to be deceived—likewise valid for the reading of a novel, an eloquent magician’s performance, a theatrical, cinematic, celluloid, digitally broadcast, web- or livestreamed show—the situation is unlikely to be seen as problematic (morally, or otherwise).180

|| the notorious line attributed to Protagoras, as cited in subchs. 4.3, 8.2, herein. The above, with Blumenberg: “‘by means of art[,] we dominate what[,] by nature[,] dominates us” (Antiphon, via ps.-Aristotle, as qtd. in: Geistesgeschichte 20n.; trans. dsm); “daß ‘wir durch Kunst das beherrschen, was von Natur uns beherrscht’” (Geistesgeschichte 20n.). In a slightly altered version—“Zitiert wird der Vers des Antiphon: ‘Durch Kunstfertigkeit beherrschen wir, was von Natur uns beherrscht’” (GKW II. 484). Cf. these affine formulations: “die Überlistung der Natur” (GKW II. 484); “der Natur entgegen […] durch Kunstfertigkeit” (GKW II. 484). “Perfektionierung durch Kunstfertigkeit”; “die Beherrschung der Natur durch List” (GKW II. 485). Historically: “Dabei steht das mechanische Denken noch immer und für lange noch im Banne der Idee einer Überlistung der Natur” (GKW II. 553). “Für die Hochscholastik gilt ungebrochen, daß die Natur unmöglich Bewegung um der Bewegung willen anstreben kann. Das Perpetuum mobile ist von vornherein als Überlistung der Natur gegen ihr Prinzip entworfen” (GKW II. 555). 178 Cf. “Context would include, amongst other things: the nature of the audience, their expectation of the work, previous literature on the subject and reaction to that literature in educated circles” (Harding 219n.). Mutatis mutandis, in further environments. 179 See (ps.-)Demetrius, giving the ensuing as “the advice of Theophrastus”: “you […] should omit some points for the listener to infer and work out for himself. […] For he is made aware of his own intelligence through you, who have given him the opportunity to be intelligent [‘συνετὸς γὰρ ἑαυτῷ δοκεῖ διὰ σὲ τὸν ἀφορμὴν παρεσχηκότα αὐτῷ τοῦ συνιέναι’]” (480–481, §222). With Aristotle—“It is above all Homer who has taught other poets the right way to purvey falsehoods [‘ψευδῆ λέγειν ὡς δεῖ’]: that is, by false inference [‘παραλογισμός’]. […] because it knows the truth of the consequent, our mind falsely infers [‘παραλογίζεται ἡμῶν ἡ ψυχὴ’] the truth of the antecedent too” (“Poetics” 122–123, 1460a, §24). Cf. Ammonius (100, 137.20–23). 180 This diachronic enumeration is to signal the ensuing: whereas the technical possibilities, hence the media and (virtual) settings—whether amphi- or movie theater, stage or television, digital devices, smart phones, other handhelds, and so forth—will (continue to) change rather drastically, the agents or recipients involved are “still only human” (Machiavelli Prince [Price] 88, XXVI; while not precise, Price’s trans. is of heuristic use; see Principe 170, XXVI.9).

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This will hold good so long as everyone—or the majority—knows, and (tacitly) consents, that being professionally manipulated is the point and purpose of the whole affair; that this well-wrought deception has a spatiotemporal framework; that the difference between the illusion effected, and what otherwise passes for ‘reality’, is plain (at least potentially).181 Recipients might be aware—or downright advised—that they are being gulled, while conned even so (in another sense, at a higher plane): “ed io vorrei / che voi fussi ingannate come lei”, ovvero lui, loro (Machiavelli M [Bonino] 5).182 On the whole, the illusoriness all but unavoidably involved in deceptive pleasures expressly sought—not to mention bought—would hardly be deemed problematic by the ones benefitted. From the viewpoint of the manipulated, what appears to be happening seems in line with their will. Then again, fraud may well be multivalent—take place in stages, at various levels, by degrees. The narcissistically potent impression of having detected some ruse might blunt the senses for the next. Virtually no one is immune to designs as “engañar con la misma verdad” (Gracián Oráculo 108, §13).183 Techniques are versatile, reapplicable, polyfunctional—per se indifferent to agents, contexts: but humans never are (not even natural scientists). Depending on the setting, the very same virtuosity may yield, or elicit, divergent—even incompatible—responses, judgments, consequences. While some might feel the need to blame its maker or handler, wrath or outrage towards a tool must seem || 181 On ‘tacit consent’, cf. subch. 8.3.2, herein. That such ken and agreement need not always be the case is elucidated by Pawlita with respect to a striking Cervantine entremés (passim; here: 115–134; see “Retablo” passim). Cf. spec. her references to “una problemati[z]ación de la diferenciabilidad entre parecer y ser, lo fingido y lo real que se desarrolla por medio del teatro dentro del teatro” (119). See Küpper (Cultural Net 24–26; 294–295). 182 Approx. ‘and I would will / that you were (duped and) deluded (just) like her’—or him, them (trans. dsm). Machiavelli’s prolog speaker is referring to the play’s female protagonist (Lucrezia). Flaumenhaft has: “And I would wish / that you might be tricked as she was” (M [Flaumenhaft] 10, Pro.). Similarly Gilbert: “and I hope you’ll be tricked as she was” (“M [Gilbert]” 777). While somewhat freer, see also Sbrocchi/Campbell: “and I’d like you / to be deceived the same way” (“M [Sbrocchi/Campbell]” 117). As well as this fairly expedient version: “Ich gönnt euch das Vergnügen, / Ihr ließt, wie sie, euch auch einmal betrügen” (M [Heyse/Ziegler/Reuter] 10). That the deception works may be demonstrated by Sices’ construal (with context): “how the woman, falsely wooed, / At last was brought to bed, you’ll hear, / Mesdames, and you’d be, too, I fear” (“Mandrake” 159). Generally, drama offers “a form of deception […] in which the deceiver is more honest than the non-deceiver, and the deceived is wiser than the non-deceived” (Gorgias “Texts” 781, 63[F20]; bold emph. removed; with Plutarch “Athenians” 508–509, 348C, spec. “ὑφ’ ἡδονῆς λόγων”; Diels/Kranz Vorsokratiker II. 305, 82B23). Cf. Blumenberg (Realität 54); Küpper (“Tragödiensatz” 22, 22n.). 183 “deceive with the truth itself”—or even: “with the same truth” (trans. dsm).

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fond; will hardly be reckoned rational. One cannot have that moral cake and eat it, too—as Kant would. Manipulation is the nature of art. Art is human nature. The general and particular bearing of that questionable animal has given rise to diverse assessments of relative utility.184 While hollow wolfishness will have a quantitative part to play, the fox always prevails in qualitative respects. Adapting a comedy taken to have been penned by a ‘lover of the people’, a plainly cunning playwright put into circulation the dictum “lupus est homo homini” (“Asinaria” 176, II, v.495).185 Machiavelli may be said to have altered the animals—hence to read leo et vulpes (else the latter inside the former).186 With characteristic crudity, Hobbes recurs to the comic take; but also pairs it with another—“To speak impartially, both sayings are very true: that man to man is a kind of God; and that man to man is an arrant wolf” (“Citizen” 89).187

|| 184 Blumenberg gives as “nicht primär fragwürdig, was der Mensch sei, sondern daß er ist, seinen abgründigen Mangel an Notwendigkeit, seine Faktizität” (“Ethik” 183; cf. Beschreibung 511). See subch. 5.2.1, herein. 185 As also otherwise, the shortened version—sans the Plautine qualification—tends to be in floatation: “lupus est homo homini, non homo, quom qualis sit non novit” (“Asinaria” 176, II, v.495). In his Prolog, the Roman subtly acknowledges: “huic nomen Graece Onagost fabulae; / Demophilus scripsit, Maccus vortit barbare; / Asinariam volt esse” (“Asinaria” 126, Pro.10–12). Cf. Blumenberg (Beschreibung 275). For the dramatic realm, Küpper accentuates (with Szondi): “the problems humans face […] originat[e] from interactions with other humans who, consciously and intentionally or not, pursue aims and goals of their own. […] the world is presented on stage as a thoroughly human cosmos” (“Encounter” 45). See spec. Szondi: “Der Mensch ging ins Drama gleichsam nur als Mitmensch ein” (“Theorie” 16); “der Dialog [‘ist’] Träger des Dramas” (“Theorie” 20). Generally, cf. Snell (99; 112); and Rohde: “Es ist […] alles oder doch unendlich vieles möglich, wenn Alter auf Ego trifft” (35). 186 “Sendo dunque necessitato uno principe sapere bene usare la bestia, debbe di quelle pigliare la golpe e il lione: […] bisogna […] essere golpe a conoscere e’ lacci, e lione a sbigottire e’ lupi: coloro che stando semplicemente in sul lione, non se ne intendono” (Principe 116, XVIII.7). Likewise Nietzsche: “Der Mensch […] [ist] ein vielfaches, verlogenes, künstliches und undurchsichtiges Thier, allen anderen Thieren durch Klugheit und List unheimlich und furchteinflößend” (KSA 11. 194, 26[168]; with KSA 13. 193, 11[415]; “Jenseits [KSA 5]” 235, IX, §291). See Blumenberg (Beschreibung 864; Begriffe 210–212); Mayfield (Artful 367; 406n.). 187 “Profecto utrumque vere dictum est, homo homini deus, et homo homini lupus” (“de Cive” 135, Dedica.). Cf. Gert (11). The alternative may have come to him via Bacon: “hominem homini Deum esse, non solum propter auxilium et beneficium, sed etiam per status comparationem, recte dici possit. Atque hoc non solum, non coelum, non corpora, sed artes praestant” (Novum Organum 268, I.129; 222 in Spedding/Ellis/Heath; with 268n.). By Symmachus, the dictum is attributed to Caecilius Statius (the comic poet): “Homo homini deus est si suum officium sciat”. “Man to man is a god if he knows his duty” (552–553, §257, ‘ex incertis fabulis’). On the Plautine line, cf. also Schopenhauer (WWV I. 208, II, §27). See Hobbes’ discussion of the ‘lupine’ case, as presented in Baumgold’s comparatist layout (Three-Text Ed. 138–139, EL.I.14.11–12, DC.I.1.12–

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Whereas the English theorist is typically reduced to the latter—and his paritarian hypólepsis of Caecilius tacitly omitted—Feuerbach’s protestations naturally assert: “Homo homini deus est” (318, II).188 Nor without reason, considering the sheer prevalence of “that transcendent ventriloquism, whereby some are made to believe that something spoken on earth would be coming from the heavens” (Lichtenberg “Physiognomik” 257; trans. dsm).189 Modifying Aristotle’s alternative—“ἢ θηρίον ἢ θεός” (Pol. 12, 1253a, I.i.12)— into a simultaneity, a prudent consigliere insinuates all of the above at once: man is to man an animal and a god.190 Which may yield this (Neo-Latin) saying: homo homini contingentia.

|| 13, L.I.13.8–9). Cf. Aymé’s abysmal variant, as treated by Schaeffer: “it is man[,] who is a wolf for the wolf” (Why Fiction? 1); “little by little, our wolf stops laughing” (Why Fiction? 2). 188 With contexts: “Der andere ist per se der Mittler zwischen mir und der […] Idee der Gattung. Homo homini Deus est” (189, I). “Die Religion ist das erste Selbstbewußtsein des Menschen. […] Ist das Wesen des Menschen das höchste Wesen des Menschen, so muß auch praktisch das höchste und erste Gesetz die Liebe des Menschen zum Menschen sein. Homo homini deus est – dies ist der oberste praktische Grundsatz, dies der Wendepunkt der Weltgeschichte” (318, II). The deductive bent is express. Cf. Marquard’s end-focused nuance: “von Hume über Feuerbach bis Freud […] [‘entstehen’] jene Thesen, die Gott zum Produkt der menschlichen Einbildungskraft erklären. Nicht Gott macht den Menschen, sondern der Mensch macht Gott, aber nicht jeder Mensch” (Aesthetica 89; see Apologie 18). Sola humana arte. 189 With context: “Ich wollte Mißtrauen erwecken gegen jene transzendente Ventriloquenz, wodurch mancher glauben gemacht wird, etwas das auf Erden gesprochen ist, käme vom Himmel” (“Physiognomik” 257). See Mayfield (Ventriloquism 1–6, 4n.; 31n.; 45n.; 51n.; 54; 71n.; spec. 164–166, 164n.–166n.; 170n.; 178n.; 186n.). 190 In the aforecited context, Lichtenberg will continue: “Oder iſt er [sc. der Mensch] eine Baſtardbrut vom Affen und einem höhern Weſen, das ſich weggemacht, und ihn hier mit Trieben ausgeſteuert hat ſitzen laſſen, von denen nunmehr, wie bey manchen Baſtardarten, und ſehr vielen erhabenen menſchlichen Anſtalten, die Form den Zweck überlebt hat” (“Betrachtungen” 60). Applying a Florentine’s accent to the Stagirite’s alternative, Cosentino narrows down the first option cited above: “ein Raubtier oder ein Gott” (19). Cf. Machiavelli: “è necessario sapere bene usare la bestia e lo uomo” (Principe 115, XVIII.4); “uno mezzo bestia e mezzo uomo” (Principe 116, XVIII.6). Withal, a divine office or appearance—“e paia, a udirlo e vederlo, tutto pietà, tutto fede, tutto integrità, tutto umanità, tutto religione: e non è cosa piú necessaria a parere di avere, che questa ultima qualità” (Principe 118–119, XVIII.16).

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Index Accius, Lucius 441 Achilles (Achilleús) 82 Ackrill, J. L. 67, 107, 125, 126, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135 Adam (Scripture) 198, 199 Adams, David 598, 599, 603, 604, 649, 658 Adams, Marilyn McCord 127, 160, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200 Adorno, Theodor W. 6, 499 Aegina (island) 67 Aelian (Claudius Aelianus) 553 Aelius Theon 437 Aemilius Paulus (Lucius Aemilius Paulus Macedonicus) 528, 529 Aesop 262, 600, 601, 729, 730, 734 Aëtius (doxographer) 247 Aetna (Etna, volcano) 555, 556 Agamben, Giorgio 157 Agamemnon (Homer) 24 Agathon (the poet) 27, 72, 102, 104, 154, 156, 172, 173, 174, 198, 214, 312, 321, 738, 741 Ajax (Homer, Shakespeare) 400 Akademie der Wissenschaften Mainz 8, 251, 262, 265, 271, 272 Akhenaton (Echnaton) 188 Alaric I (Visigoth) 388 Alberti, Leon Battista 595 Alberto (Celestina) 303, 304 Alciato, Andrea 625 Alexander of Aphrodisias 16, 18, 66, 67, 70, 71, 76, 77, 86, 129, 130, 131, 132, 136, 162 Alexander the Great 219, 297, 298, 562 Alford, Lucy 45, 62, 237, 270, 272, 277, 278, 280, 421, 473, 622, 670, 735, 740, 757, 761, 765, 769 Alicia (Celestina, Palacio ms.) 310 Alisa (Celestina) 303, 305, 307, 309, 310, 314, 319, 320, 364 Allen, Don Cameron 377, 388, 394, 402, 403

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110701654-015

Altman, Joel B. 436, 440, 442, 451, 454, 455, 456, 457, 462, 471 American Comparative Literature Association (ACLA) 8, 9 Ammonius of Alexandria (Hermiae) 24, 86, 89, 119, 123, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 134, 135, 136, 137, 151, 162, 166, 206, 209, 778 Amor (god) 310, 317, 320, 325, 328, 345, 352 Amslinger, Julia 3, 9, 17, 61, 95, 159, 184, 230, 231, 236, 245, 247, 248, 260, 417, 421, 473, 509, 602, 608, 614, 615, 653, 659, 661, 664, 670, 694, 728 Anderson, Paul Irving 687 Andreas-Salomé, Lou 540, 611 Angelo (MM, Shakespeare) 424, 425, 454, 472 Annie (Effi Briest, Fontane) 688, 689, 690 Añón, Carmen 288, 343, 627 Anselm of Canterbury 199 Antipater (Macedonian general) 537 Antipater of Tarsus 568 Antiphon (the poet) 777, 778 Antiphon (the Sophist) 476, 489, 591, 592 Antisthenes (of Athens) 438, 518, 554, 557, 575 Apelt, Otto 522, 523, 524, 638 Aphthonius the Sophist (of Antioch) 437, 455 Apollo (Phoebus, god) 374, 521 Apperson, G. L. 157 Appius Claudius Caecus 315, 374, 621 Aquinas, Thomas 4, 13, 27, 68, 73, 85, 89, 91, 103, 105, 112, 114, 119, 123, 126, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 143, 145, 159, 162, 176, 186, 187, 195, 199, 200, 206, 209, 462 Arcesilaus (Arkesílaos) 452 Arendt, Hannah 6

866 | Index

Areúsa (Celestina) 303, 305, 306, 308, 309, 311, 322, 346, 347, 348, 356, 367 Aristides, Aelius 429 Aristophanes 431, 584, 623 Aristotle 4, 5, 6, 7, 13, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 36, 41, 49, 56, 57, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 191, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209, 210, 211, 213, 214, 219, 224, 225, 233, 244, 245, 247, 251, 252, 253, 255, 256, 257, 258, 264, 274, 279, 282, 287, 288, 297, 300, 307, 309, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 319, 320, 321, 323, 332, 345, 346, 347, 349, 351, 356, 357, 374, 380, 381, 382, 383, 384, 391, 394, 395, 403, 404, 407, 412, 417, 421, 422, 423, 426, 427, 430, 431, 433, 437, 438, 442, 444, 445, 448, 450, 451, 452, 454, 470, 473, 475, 478, 479, 491, 492, 494, 495, 497, 502, 516, 523, 524, 526, 543, 545, 573, 576, 578, 581, 605, 609, 619, 620, 621, 623, 628, 638, 642, 643, 648, 649, 673, 676, 685, 687, 690, 737, 738, 740, 741, 746, 747, 750, 752, 757, 767, 770, 771, 773, 777, 778, 781 Armstrong, G. Cyril 82, 85 Arnim, Hans von 515, 579 Arraiza, Alberto Bartolomé 288 Arria 567, 568

Arrian (student of Epictetus) 517, 541, 544, 546, 552, 556 Arruns Tarquinius (brother of Tarquinius Superbus) 402 Arzálluz, Íñigo Ruiz 292 Asmuth, Bernhard 245, 246, 248, 250, 276, 566, 670 Asper, Markus 535, 536 Ate (goddess) 24 Athenian Stranger (Plato) 611 Atkinson, James B. 404, 405, 406, 410, 412 Atomism (Ancient) 16, 21, 22, 25, 73, 75, 78, 79, 80, 96, 97, 101, 189, 194, 540, 572, 573, 574, 575, 578, 650 Atticus, Titus Pomponius 457, 517 Aubrey, John 550 Auerbach, Erich 303, 351, 436, 475, 674, 681 Augustine, Aurelius (Augustinus) 3, 4, 27, 32, 33, 42, 57, 78, 89, 176, 186, 188, 189, 190, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 199, 200, 201, 202, 206, 208, 214, 225, 287, 350, 352, 353, 382, 386, 388, 389, 394, 403, 404, 408, 418, 421, 423, 426, 446, 459, 460, 461, 462, 463, 476, 482, 516, 525, 526, 534, 547, 568, 625, 663, 755 Augustus Caesar (Emperor) 446, 536, 537, 538 Aureoli, Petrus (Aureolus) 196, 197 Ausonius, Decim(i)us Magnus 482 Aust, Hugo 680 Austin, J. L. 536 Axel Colly (Hans Blumenberg) 373 Aymé, Marcel 781

Babrius 729 Bach, Johann Sebastian 629, 631 Bacon, Francis 27, 104, 202, 248, 249, 250, 312, 374, 446, 456, 459, 479, 583, 621, 641, 671, 675, 741, 742, 766, 780 Bade, James N. 692 Bakhtin, Mikhail Mikhaĭlovich 544

Index | 867

Baldwin, Charles Sears 432, 433, 438, 439 Balmer, Hans Peter 251, 283, 639, 641, 642 Bandinelli, Roland 195 Bange, Pierre 675 Baranda, Consolación 291, 311, 313 Barber, Joseph A. 412 Barnhart, Robert K. 184, 274, 393, 416, 614, 670, 675, 746 Barroll, Leeds 390 Barthes, Roland 6, 478 Basil Hallward (Wilde) 488, 489 Bassus, Aufidius 556 Bataillon, Marcel 288, 292, 330, 331, 336, 340, 347 Battle of Himera (480 BCE) 169 Battle of Salamis (480 BCE) 168, 169 Baumgold, Deborah 780 Beaujour, Michel 121 Beaumont, Matthew 482, 638 Becker, Albrecht 134 Beckett, Samuel 296, 421, 591 Beecher, Donald 15, 405, 406, 407, 409, 410, 412, 413, 415, 416 Behuniak-Long, Susan 407, 412 Bender, John 747, 750 Benn, Gottfried 27, 287, 393, 473, 476, 486, 491, 499, 500, 501, 502 Bergman, Ted L. L. 335, 336 Bergmann, Helga 579 Berkeley, George 426, 663 Berlin, Isaiah 551 Berman, Russell A. 676, 681, 685 Bernard, John 414, 415 Bers, Victor 427, 434, 451, 749 Betz, Frederick 682, 687 Bias of Priene 110 Biedermann, Flodoard Freiherr von 415 Bien, Günther 13, 143, 523 Bismarck, Otto von 687 Blank, David 86, 89, 129, 135, 151 Blass, Friedrich 452, 675 Bloch, Arthur 210 Bloemendal, Jan 432 Bloom, Harold 603 Blüher, Karl Alfred 352, 366, 743

Blumberg, F. L. 449, 532, 546 Blumenberg, Hans 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 20, 25, 26, 27, 32, 34, 35, 36, 40, 45, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 56, 57, 61, 64, 68, 69, 76, 77, 78, 87, 89, 90, 91, 96, 100, 102, 108, 109, 123, 129, 131, 148, 155, 159, 162, 168, 172, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 199, 200, 201, 202, 204, 205, 208, 212, 214, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 287, 293, 294, 299, 300, 302, 311, 313, 315, 318, 319, 324, 325, 330, 331, 333, 334, 337, 343, 344, 349, 352, 353, 356, 358, 367, 370, 371, 373, 374, 375, 376, 378, 379, 380, 381, 384, 387, 389, 393, 399, 407, 410, 411, 415, 417, 422, 426, 428, 429, 435, 441, 444, 446, 459, 460, 461, 462, 465, 473, 474, 475, 476, 477, 479, 480, 481, 482, 485, 487, 488, 489, 493, 494, 497, 498, 501, 502, 503, 507, 508, 509, 510, 511, 512, 513, 514, 515, 518, 519, 520, 522, 525, 527, 528, 530, 531, 535, 536, 538, 539, 540, 541, 543, 547, 548, 551, 555, 556, 557, 559, 563, 566, 567, 570, 571, 572, 573, 574, 575, 576, 577, 578, 579, 580, 581, 582, 583, 584, 585, 586, 587, 588, 589, 590, 591, 592, 593, 594, 595, 596, 597, 598, 599, 600, 601, 602, 603, 604, 605, 606, 607, 608, 609, 610, 611, 612, 613, 614, 615, 616, 617, 618, 619, 620, 621, 622, 623, 624, 625, 626, 627, 628, 629, 630, 631, 632, 633, 634, 635, 636, 637, 638, 639, 640, 641, 642, 643, 644, 645, 646, 647,

868 | Index

648, 649, 650, 651, 652, 653, 654, 655, 656, 657, 658, 659, 660, 661, 662, 663, 664, 665, 666, 667, 668, 669, 670, 671, 672, 673, 674, 676, 677, 679, 680, 681, 682, 683, 684, 688, 692, 693, 694, 695, 698, 699, 700, 701, 702, 703, 704, 705, 706, 707, 708, 709, 712, 713, 714, 715, 716, 717, 719, 720, 721, 722, 724, 725, 726, 727, 728, 729, 730, 731, 732, 734, 735, 739, 740, 742, 743, 744, 745, 746, 747, 752, 754, 755, 757, 760, 761, 763, 766, 767, 768, 773, 774, 775, 776, 777, 778, 779, 780 Boccaccio, Giovanni 4, 240, 312, 395 Bodmer, Michel 521, 766 Boethius, Anicius Manlius Severinus 3, 23, 27, 43, 65, 66, 68, 69, 73, 76, 89, 106, 116, 117, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 140, 143, 162, 167, 169, 186, 187, 190, 191, 200, 206, 207, 210, 211, 224, 531, 609 Boh, Ivan 14, 102, 187, 190, 195, 198, 199 Bonitz, Hermann 112, 117, 118, 120, 152 Bonner, S. F. 426 Borges, Jorge Luis 27, 221, 296, 412, 481, 570, 596, 671, 695, 696, 697, 698 Borgia (family) 407 Borgia, Cesare 579 Böschenstein, Renate 605, 611, 672, 675, 677, 678, 679, 680, 682, 683, 684, 686, 690, 692, 697 Boswell, James 426 Böttiger, Karl August 417 Bourke, Vernon J. 388 Bouwsma, William J. 386, 429, 469, 623, 624, 647 Bowman, Peter James 693 Bradwardine, Thomas 197 Brancaforte, Benito 311, 325, 371 Branham, R. Bracht 299, 301, 302, 336, 455, 551, 599 Braun, Hermann 245, 278, 664 Brentano, Franz 271

Breuer, Ulrich 8, 240, 260, 262, 265, 271, 272 Briesemeister, Dietrich 294 Bröcker, Walter 16, 69, 70, 78, 92, 102, 148 Brogan, T. V. F. 614 Bronner, Stefan 9 Bruni, Leonardo 6 Bruno, Giordano 489, 578 Brutus, Lucius Junius 40, 41, 373, 374, 375, 380, 381, 382, 383, 384, 386, 387, 388, 389, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 403, 404, 410, 413, 414, 415, 416, 418, 419, 530, 567 Brutus, Marcus Junius (the Younger) 307 Bubner, Rüdiger 5, 20, 23, 56, 62, 65, 73, 83, 86, 89, 99, 107, 110, 123, 124, 128, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 150, 153, 154, 156, 157, 161, 165, 169, 170, 171, 191, 201, 202, 206, 207, 208, 209, 212, 213, 224, 227, 240, 243, 252, 254, 255, 256, 257, 267, 279, 294, 313, 391, 443, 494, 509, 604, 739, 746, 774, 776 Buck, August 260 Budd, Frederick E. 425 Buddenbrock, Gustav von 685 Bülow, Ulrich von 658 Bultmann, Rudolf 538 Burckhardt, Jacob 428, 454, 767, 771, 776 Burke, Kenneth 222, 738 Burley, Walter (Gauthier) 187, 357 Burns, Robert 594 Busch, Wilhelm 670

Cadmus (of Thebes) 766 Caecilius Statius (poet) 304, 308, 761, 780, 781 Caelius, Rufus Marcus (the orator) 434 Caesar, Gaius Julius 308, 373, 390 Cajetan, Thomas 123, 133, 135, 136 Calderón de la Barca, Pedro 519, 535 Calisto (Celestina) 37, 289, 290, 295, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 335,

Index | 869

339, 340, 341, 342, 343, 352, 354, 355, 358, 360, 361, 362, 364, 369 Callias (in Aristotle) 148 Callimaco (Mandragola) 389, 391, 407, 409, 411, 412 Campbell, J. Douglas 779 Camus, Albert 538, 588, 594 Canet, José Luis 315, 317, 352, 354 Carey, Christopher 446 Carneades 126, 357, 452, 568 Cassirer, Ernst 620, 661 Cassius Dio, Lucius (Dio Cassius) 373, 374, 380, 381, 387, 414 Castiglione, Baldesar (Baldassare) 374 Castilla, Alberto 293, 347 Castro Guisasola, F. 357 Castro, Américo 291, 313 Cataline (Lucius Sergius Catilina, Shakespeare) 401 Cato the Elder (Maior), Marcus Porcius (the Censor) 139, 527, 532, 533, 618, 621, 753 Cato the Younger (Minor), Marcus Porcius (Uticensis) 377, 507, 527, 528, 530, 534, 535, 537, 538, 561, 562, 564, 565, 567, 571 Cebes (Plato) 522, 523, 525 Cecil (family) 389 Cejador y Frauca, Julio 318, 345 Celestina (Celestina) 38, 289, 291, 292, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 310, 311, 314, 315, 316, 317, 319, 320, 321, 322, 329, 330, 332, 334, 337, 338, 339, 340, 341, 342, 344, 345, 346, 347, 348, 350, 351, 352, 353, 354, 355, 357, 358, 359, 360, 365, 366, 367, 368, 369, 409 Celestina Comentada (Anonymous) 307, 323, 333, 337, 340, 345, 347, 349, 354, 356, 359, 366, 406, 477, 568 Centurio (Celestina) 303, 309, 337 Cervantes, Miguel de 4, 288, 295, 325, 335, 424, 453, 725, 779 Chadwick, Henry 3 Chambers, E. K. 293, 295 Chargaff, Erwin 664 Cháris (goddess) 51, 743

Charles II of England 488 Charles V (Carlos I, Emperor) 202, 294, 479 Charles VIII of France 389 Chartier, Roger 292, 293 Chaucer, Geoffrey 378 Cherchi, Paolo 312, 350 Cherniss, Harold 545 Chevalier, Maxime 288, 329, 330 Chilon of Sparta 241 Chrysippus (of Soli) 518, 579 Cicero, Marcus Tullius 3, 6, 22, 27, 46, 64, 74, 117, 126, 131, 136, 140, 165, 175, 260, 287, 329, 374, 377, 382, 383, 384, 391, 410, 423, 427, 429, 432, 433, 434, 435, 437, 438, 439, 443, 446, 450, 452, 455, 456, 457, 461, 469, 471, 474, 476, 500, 507, 516, 517, 518, 520, 524, 525, 526, 527, 528, 529, 530, 531, 533, 534, 548, 557, 568, 570, 578, 579, 592, 612, 620, 622, 623, 624, 626, 640, 646, 649, 675, 676, 685, 753 Cinthio, Giovanni Battista Giraldi 425 Cisneros Araujo, María Eugenia 299, 300, 301, 365 Clarke, Dorothy Clotelle 321, 355 Clarke, Michelle Tolman 407, 413 Classen, Carl Joachim 428, 429 Claudina (Celestina) 303, 304, 305, 306, 310, 321, 368 Claudio (MM, Shakespeare) 424, 425 Cleanthes (of Assos) 520 Clement of Alexandria (Clemens Alexandrinus) 588, 591, 695 Coetzee, J. M. 296 Cohen, J. M. 318 Collatinus, Lucius Tarquinius 383, 384, 386, 387, 396, 398, 399, 400, 401, 414 Colson, F. H. 591 Columbus, Christopher (Cristóbal Colón) 294, 326 Columella, Lucius Junius Moderatus 612, 744 Constable of France (H5, Shakespeare) 402

870 | Index

Cook, Harold P. 69, 122, 123, 134 Cope, Jackson I. 405, 409, 411, 416, 462 Copernicus, Nicolaus 162, 578, 633, 634, 635, 637, 639, 774 Cornford, F. M. 14, 65, 69, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76, 77, 86, 90, 91, 92, 94, 95, 98, 100, 109, 115 Cosentino, Maurizio 145, 161, 163, 191, 202, 207, 781 Costa Fontes, Manuel da 352, 354 Courtenay, William J. 30, 190, 193, 195, 196, 198, 199, 202 Craig, Gordon A. 671, 681, 686, 692 Crampas (Effi Briest, Fontane) 689, 691 Cranly (Joyce) 558 Crassus, Lucius Licinius (Orator) 452, 455 Cremes (Celestina, Terence) 303, 319 Crete (island) 585, 611 Criado de Val, Manuel 318 Crito (Celestina) 303 Critolaus 592 Croce, Benedetto 311, 371 Cronk, Nicholas 584 Curtius, Ernst Robert 349, 428, 482, 584, 614, 737, 746 Cynicism 287, 288, 295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 325, 327, 328, 330, 331, 333, 335, 336, 337, 338, 339, 341, 342, 346, 349, 354, 356, 357, 358, 360, 361, 362, 363, 365, 368, 370, 371, 430, 549, 551, 552, 553, 554, 569, 584, 732 Czucka, Eckehard 676, 678, 682

d’Ailly, Pierre (Peter, Petrus de Alliaco) 159, 198 D’Amico, Jack 409, 410, 412, 416 D’Aprile, Iwan-Michelangelo 681 Dahlke, Benjamin 102, 189, 658 Damian, Peter (Petrus Damianus) 195, 196, 352 Daniell, David 404 Dante Alighieri 208, 325, 327, 462, 746 Dauphin of France (H5, Shakespeare) 402 David (Scripture) 758, 759, 760 Davidson, Donald 603

Deguy, Michel 227 Delphic Oracle 374, 588, 591 Demetrius of Phalerum 502, 764, 771, 778 Democritus 22, 79, 281, 429 Demophilus (poet) 780 Demosthenes 537 Dent-Young, John 500 Derrida, Jacques 611, 614, 711, 729 Derzhavin, Gavrila Romanovich 501 Des Esseintes, Jean (Huysmans) 486 Descartes, René (Cartesius) 201, 242, 243, 244, 249, 250, 255, 257, 258, 264, 265, 271, 276, 280, 284, 383, 513, 535, 581, 601, 615, 642, 669, 682, 703, 711, 716, 724, 725, 728 Deutsches Lilteraturarchiv (DLA) Marbach 245, 248, 509, 541, 659 Deyermond, Alan D. 291, 292, 310, 330, 333, 351 Di Camillo, Ottavio 290, 291, 292, 293, 302, 313, 314, 315, 317, 324, 326, 328, 331, 333, 334, 339, 344, 346, 351, 355 Di Maria, Salvatore 407, 415 Dickinson, Emily 699 Diderot, Denis 521, 527, 562, 584, 641 Dido (Elissa) of Carthage 569 Diels, Hermann 72, 139, 170, 173, 194, 247, 281, 313, 430, 433, 436, 457, 476, 489, 502, 591, 612, 638, 695, 739, 749, 779 Dierse, Ulrich 14 Dietz, Richard 427, 431, 432, 435, 452 Digest (Justinian) 538 Dio Chrysostom 298 Diodorus (the Epicurean) 569 Diogenes Laertius 18, 67, 68, 110, 113, 173, 174, 219, 241, 247, 252, 254, 259, 297, 298, 299, 300, 349, 357, 371, 430, 431, 436, 438, 515, 518, 521, 532, 548, 552, 553, 554, 555, 557, 560, 566, 569, 570, 573, 575, 580, 588, 593, 599, 612, 623, 624, 626, 668, 737 Diogenes of Sinope (the Cynic, the Dog) 27, 37, 219, 295, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 357, 368, 371, 430, 507,

Index | 871

509, 541, 551, 552, 553, 554, 560, 566, 599, 600 Dion of Syracuse 737 Dionysius II of Syracuse 737 Dionysius of Halicarnassus 373, 374, 377, 381, 382, 402, 403, 404, 414 Dionysos (god) 521 Dissoì lógoi (Δισσοὶ λόγοι, Anonymous) 436, 466 Dobbin, Robert F. 297, 524, 541, 542, 543, 544, 545, 549, 550, 551 Dobranski, Stephen B. 456 Dodsley, Robert 295, 313 Doebeling, Marion 693 Don Juan (Tirso de Molina) 289 Don Quixote (Quijote, Cervantes) 288, 289, 295, 335 Donaldson, Ian 375, 376, 377, 378, 392, 394, 396, 401, 402, 403, 404, 408, 409, 424 Donne, John 434 Donoso (Cervantes) 288, 295 Dorian Gray (Wilde) 44, 476, 481, 483, 485, 486, 487, 488, 489, 490, 491, 492 Döring, Theodor (Fontane) 617, 618 Dostoevsky, Fyodor Mikhailovich 224, 261 DramaNet (Berlin) 10 Dreilinden (château) 686 Drews, Lydia 435 Dubslav (Stechlin, Fontane) 676, 682 Dudley, Donald R. 297 Duke (MM, Shakespeare) 424, 425, 454 Duncan-Jones, Katherine 378, 387, 388, 390, 391, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 402 Dzelzainis, Martin 155, 387, 389, 390, 391, 396, 400, 401, 404, 450

Echevarría, Roberto González 295, 333, 335, 336, 339, 348, 351, 371 Eden, Kathy V, 3, 4, 6, 10, 203, 346, 393, 422, 423, 424, 426, 427, 433, 434, 435, 439, 440, 441, 449, 450, 452,

461, 502, 526, 563, 571, 612, 642, 674, 675, 693, 765 Effi (Effi Briest, Fontane) 51, 680, 688, 689, 690, 691, 692 Einstein, Albert 186 Eleatics 62 Elicia (Celestina) 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 321, 322, 350, 355, 356, 367, 368 Elijah (Scripture) 630 Eliot, T. S. 462, 521, 695, 746 Elisa (Celestina, Palacio ms.) 310 Elizabeth I (of England) 389, 390, 392, 393, 436 Ellis, Robert Leslie 248, 250, 583, 675, 742, 780 Elshtain, Jean Bethke 412, 413 Emerson, Ralph Waldo 450, 619, 738 Empedocles 79, 555, 556, 605 Endres, Johannes 8 Engels, Friedrich 261 Engler-Coldren, Katharina Adeline 605, 673, 676, 680 Enterline, Lynn 4, 387, 392, 394, 396, 397, 398, 399, 402, 403, 422, 436 Epictetus 27, 46, 287, 298, 507, 515, 516, 517, 518, 520, 524, 526, 531, 535, 536, 541, 542, 543, 544, 545, 546, 547, 548, 549, 550, 551, 552, 554, 556, 558, 563, 565, 568, 569, 589, 626 Epicureanism 21, 22, 25, 47, 73, 194, 313, 326, 525, 539, 540, 569, 570, 571, 572, 575, 576, 583, 626, 627, 652, 707 Epicurus 18, 21, 22, 25, 27, 47, 73, 116, 136, 194, 252, 287, 326, 507, 511, 521, 525, 539, 540, 555, 568, 569, 570, 571, 572, 573, 575, 576, 582, 583, 588, 594, 612, 626, 627, 652, 707, 754 Erasmus of Rotterdam, Desiderius 427, 432, 436, 452, 462, 471, 476, 507, 571, 624, 625, 675 Erinys (Homer) 24 Ernest (Wilde) 486, 491 Essex, 2nd Earl of (Robert Devereux) 389

872 | Index

Eulenburg, Graf Philipp zu 684, 685, 686 Euripides 566, 567, 595 European Research Council (ERC) 10 Evenus (Plato) 521, 522 Everett, Barbara 675

Fabia (family) 387 Fabius Cunctator (Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus) 667 Fairclough, H. R. 565, 567 Falconer, William Armistead 529 Fall of Byzantium (Constantinople, 1453) 61, 293 Fall of Granada (1492) 294, 326 Faulkner, William 271 Faust (Faust, Goethe) 476 Feger, Sonja 8, 251 Feldman, Martha 754 Fellmann, Ferdinand 96, 220, 241, 246, 258, 268, 279, 281, 284, 598, 728 Ferdinand (Fernando) II of Aragón (el Católico) 389 Fernández Rivera, Enrique 289, 291, 292, 293, 314, 333, 335, 351 Ferroni, Giulio 404, 406, 412, 415 Festus, Sextus Pompeius (grammarian) 304, 761 Feuerbach, Ludwig 781 Field, Richard 392 Finch, Patricia S. 333 Fineman, Joel 395, 396, 397, 398, 424 Fiore, Quentin 222 Fish, Stanley 259 Flasch, Kurt 189, 191, 192, 193, 220, 225, 236, 241, 242, 255, 256, 257, 510, 582, 590, 597, 603, 615, 663, 669, 728 Flaubert, Gustave 473, 679 Flaumenhaft, Mera J. 389, 390, 405, 407, 408, 409, 410, 414, 416, 418, 779 Fleisher, Martin 408, 409, 410, 412 Fletcher, Angus 406, 407 Flores, R. M. 295 Fontane, Emilie (Rouanet-Kummer) 692 Fontane, Louis Henri 683 Fontane, Martha (Mete) 682

Fontane, Theodor 4, 9, 27, 48, 50, 51, 258, 271, 287, 339, 351, 450, 493, 512, 522, 598, 605, 608, 611, 613, 616, 617, 618, 651, 660, 666, 668, 669, 670, 671, 672, 673, 674, 675, 676, 677, 678, 679, 680, 681, 682, 683, 684, 685, 686, 687, 688, 689, 690, 691, 692, 693, 694, 697, 701, 735 Forster, E. S. 64, 91, 123, 175 Fothergill-Payne, Louise 291, 312, 329, 333, 336, 337, 339, 347, 363, 364, 519, 533, 548, 559, 576 Foucault, Michel 424, 451 Fraker, Charles F. 292, 313, 329, 349 Francis of Assisi (Franciscan Order) 188, 189, 517, 607 Frankl, Viktor E. 588 Franklin, Benjamin 261 Frate Timoteo (Mandragola) 391, 407, 410, 411, 416 Frazer, James George 386, 387 Frede, Dorothea 83, 86, 107, 110, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 163, 166, 168, 172, 184 Frederick William (Friedrich Wilhelm) I of Prussia 687 Frederick William (Friedrich Wilhelm) II of Prussia 56 Freese, John Henry 20, 65, 72, 83, 104, 146, 151, 152, 156, 158, 160, 163, 164, 173, 203, 221, 346, 422, 433, 445, 676, 771 Freud, Sigmund 15, 83, 113, 162, 209, 243, 332, 483, 491, 509, 538, 540, 541, 581, 582, 585, 588, 603, 605, 610, 629, 663, 666, 667, 689, 696, 699, 781 Friedrich (II) der Große (Frederick the Great of Prussia) 579 Friedrich Karl of Prussia (Prince) 686 Friedrich Schlegel Graduate School (FSGS) 3, 8, 9, 10 Friedrich, Hugo 260, 271, 281, 639, 640, 641 Fries, F. R. 316, 318

Index | 873

Fritz Thyssen Stiftung 10 Fritz, Kurt von 13, 63, 66, 85, 90, 91, 113, 114, 118, 129, 144, 147, 148, 149, 153, 173, 174, 202, 219, 274, 433, 443, 611, 622, 623, 624, 640 Frost, Robert 23, 602, 606 Fuhrmann, Manfred 3, 20, 61, 64, 68, 87, 123, 161, 200, 391, 427, 428, 452, 455

Gadamer, Hans-Georg 233, 638 Gagarin, Michael 428 Galilei, Galileo 635 Gamper, Michael 69, 114, 227, 234, 260, 486, 517, 591, 592, 659, 709, 728, 739 Gaonkar, Dilip Parameshwar 4, 207, 422, 436 Garci-Gómez, Miguel 345 Garcilaso de la Vega 482, 500 Gaskin, Richard 124, 125, 136, 137, 140, 160, 200 Gast, Wolfgang 439, 441 Gehlen, Arnold 249, 263, 499 Genette, Gérard 227 Gentili, Alberico (Albericus Gentilis) 386 George Sand (Amantine Aurore Lucile Dupin) 473 Gerhardt, Paul 633 Gerli, E. Michael 310, 319, 330, 406 German Studies Association (GSA) 671, 674, 681, 682, 685, 687 Gert, Bernard 780 Geyer, Paul 405, 410, 411 Gilbert (Wilde) 486, 491 Gilbert of Poitiers (de la Porrée) 198 Gilbert, Allan 779 Giles of Rome (Gilles, Aegidius) 187 Giles, Ryan D. 291, 351 Gillespie, Michael Patrick 474, 482, 483, 486 Gilman, Stephen 288, 291, 292, 293, 294, 303, 304, 305, 307, 309, 311, 312, 316, 320, 322, 328, 329, 330, 333, 334, 336, 339, 340, 341, 348, 366, 368, 371, 472

Gnosticism (Gnosis) 188, 193 Godart, Simon 8 Godzich, Wlad 676 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 6, 35, 69, 233, 271, 283, 415, 476, 477, 483, 500, 503, 510, 574, 604, 627, 659, 660 Goetschel, Willi 693 Goldstein, Jürgen 494, 620, 647, 648 Goliath (Scripture) 758, 759 Gomperz, Heinrich 427, 428, 431, 433, 749 Gomperz, Theodor 21, 429 Góngora, Luis de 482 Gorgias (of Leontini) 27, 159, 214, 429, 430, 431, 448, 463, 502, 554, 612, 738, 749, 752, 767, 771, 773, 776, 779 Görner, Rüdiger 693 Gottsched, Johann Christoph 427 Goulet-Cazé, Marie-Odile 297, 551, 599 Gower, John 378 Goya y Lucientes, Francisco de 256, 298, 742 Gracián, Baltasar 4, 27, 39, 42, 43, 48, 55, 202, 228, 267, 287, 291, 330, 334, 345, 349, 356, 367, 374, 417, 418, 421, 426, 437, 459, 463, 465, 467, 468, 469, 477, 479, 480, 481, 513, 556, 582, 601, 615, 620, 640, 641, 647, 747, 761, 762, 764, 765, 778, 779 Graevenitz, Gerhart von 3, 5, 25, 26, 33, 56, 207, 209, 211, 212, 224, 311, 314, 315, 674, 675, 676, 678, 681, 682, 683, 686, 687, 693 Graham, Daniel W. 436, 591, 592 Grant, Edward 14, 187, 190, 198 Gray, Hanna H. 457 Green, Otis H. 291, 311, 313, 314, 324, 328, 337, 362, 479 Gregory of Rimini 197, 198 Grevel, Liselotte 677, 681, 683 Griffin, Miriam T. 537, 538, 556 Grimaldi, William M. A 164 Grube, Max (Fontane) 618 Gryphius, Andreas 453

874 | Index

Guido Guinizzelli (Dante) 746 Gumbrecht, Hans Ulrich 202, 337, 479 Gummere, Richard M. 558, 562, 564, 565 Gurza, Esperanza 292 Guthrie, W. K. C. 77, 113, 115, 428, 431, 433, 435, 436, 440, 466, 471 Gyara (Gyaros, island) 545

Hadrian (Caesar Traianus Hadrianus, Emperor) 538 Haines, C. R. 520, 530, 538, 547 Halliwell, Stephen 203, 394, 395, 492 Halsall, Albert W. 276 Hamlet (Shakespeare) 402, 520, 531 Hard, Robin 297 Harding, Phillip 502, 749, 778 Hart Nibbrig, Christiaan L. 680, 681, 683, 692 Harth, Dietrich 74, 627, 738 Hartmann, Eduard von 567 Hartmann, Egon 316, 318 Hartung, Harald 271 Haug, Walter 202, 203, 210, 211, 471 Haupt, M. 357 Hausmann, Simone 10 Haverkamp, Anselm 528, 598, 614, 615, 661, 664 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 19, 25, 27, 290, 291, 295, 301, 360, 370, 689, 690 Hazlitt, William Carew 295, 313 Heath, Douglas Denon 248, 250, 583, 675, 742, 780 Hebbel, Christian Friedrich 25, 566, 664 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 5 Heidenreich, Felix 242, 270, 579, 745 Heidgen, Michael 192, 234, 258, 282, 615, 664, 667, 701 Heinrich, Klaus 554 Helen of Troy (of Sparta) 158, 398, 430, 749, 767, 776 Hemingway, Ernest 238, 677 Henschel, Christine 10 Heracleitus (Heraclitus of Ephesus) 139, 170, 194, 281, 312, 313, 429, 441, 461, 489, 501, 578, 612, 638, 715, 738, 739

Hercules (Heracles) 202, 479, 530, 531, 537, 553, 566, 567 Hermagoras of Temnos 176, 183 Hermes (god) 72 Hermogenes of Tarsus 437, 502 Hertefeld, Friedrich Leopold von 685, 692 Hesiod 521 Hester Prynne (Hawthorne) 290, 291 Heugas, Pierre 316, 340 Heuß, Alfred 188, 209 Hicks, R. D. 599 Hiller, Daniel Rudy 8 Hippocrates of Kos 406, 476, 477, 591 Hippolytus of Rome 588 Hirzel, Rudolf 515, 518, 519, 520, 521, 525, 526, 534, 541, 548, 551, 553, 554, 558, 566, 568, 574, 576, 584 Hobbes, Thomas 27, 185, 231, 422, 443, 445, 579, 650, 776, 780, 781 Höffe, Otfried 161 Hofmannsthal, Hugo von 6 Homer 24, 221, 236, 394, 476, 558, 561, 584, 743, 776, 777, 778 Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) 27, 182, 221, 280, 287, 326, 482, 483, 486, 507, 527, 535, 536, 537, 538, 539, 540, 541, 555, 559, 565, 566, 581, 584, 588, 765, 766, 767, 773 Hornsby, R. A. 614 Howe, Patricia 686 Hübscher, Arthur 468, 581 Huguenots 389 Hulliung, Mark 405, 409, 410 Hume, David 781 Husserl, Edmund 27, 34, 52, 233, 236, 237, 238, 242, 243, 244, 246, 248, 249, 250, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 265, 266, 269, 270, 271, 276, 278, 280, 281, 284, 287, 535, 536, 539, 540, 571, 581, 588, 607, 608, 610, 635, 644, 654, 655, 659, 665, 666, 669, 695, 702, 703, 704, 705, 706, 707, 708, 709, 711, 712, 713, 714, 716, 717, 718, 720, 721, 722, 724, 725, 727, 732 Huysmans, Joris-Karl 486

Index | 875

Iago (Shakespeare) 339 Ibsen, Henrik 615 IJsseling, Samuel 427, 643 Illades Aguiar, Gustavo 292, 293, 329, 334, 347 Inciarte, Fernando 67, 78, 127, 213 Innstetten, Geert von (Effi Briest, Fontane) 605, 689, 690, 691 Institute for Cultural Inquiry (ICI, Berlin) 7, 9 Isaac, Jean 61, 122, 123, 125, 131, 186, 187, 219 Isabella (MM, Shakespeare) 423, 424, 425, 456, 471, 472 Iser, Wolfgang 488 Isidore of Seville 482 Isocrates (of Athens) 410, 429, 438, 646, 775, 776 Ivanova, Julia V. 405, 407, 408, 412

Jaeger, Werner 455 Jakobson, Roman 228, 278, 311, 648, 666, 695, 738, 756, 758, 765, 770, 772, 773 James (VI) I of England 392 Jardine, Lisa 456, 479 Jauß, Hans Robert 3, 5, 205, 269, 509, 510, 514, 585, 728 Jean Paul (Johann Paul Friedrich Richter) 331, 332, 476, 584, 691 Jed, Stephanie H. 400, 409, 414 Jeffreys, Stephen 475, 484, 486, 490 Jenkins, Harold 520 Jesuits (Societas Jesu) 43, 267, 467, 761, 765 Jesus of Nazareth 364, 366, 629, 630, 631, 632, 650 Jiménez Lozano, José 291 Joas, Hans 28, 191, 202, 207, 212, 311 Job (Scripture) 534 Jocasta (Epicaste) 566 Johanna (Effi Briest, Fontane) 690 John (Evangelist) 629, 630, 631 John of Sardis 438 John the Baptist (Scripture) 666 Johnson, Samuel 426

Jolles, Charlotte 679, 680, 682 Jonah (prophet) 68 Jonas, Hans 509 Jonson, Ben 33, 378, 675 Joyce, James 558 Judas (Scripture) 366, 534, 566 Judith (Petöfy, Fontane) 682 Jünger, Ernst 512, 587, 607, 660 Jupiter (Jove, god) 194, 471, 537, 684

Kablitz, Andreas 4, 5, 37, 61, 62, 69, 75, 112, 137, 148, 154, 176, 184, 192, 193, 195, 196, 198, 199, 201, 202, 203, 208, 214, 226, 228, 258, 260, 263, 345, 351, 376, 379, 391, 392, 417, 433, 450, 452, 457, 461, 464, 472, 475, 492, 543, 562, 617, 653, 660, 662, 672, 687, 694, 700, 710, 723, 729, 735, 746, 757, 758, 772 Kafka, Franz 224, 585, 597 Kahle, Richard (Fontane) 617, 618 Kahn, Coppélia 377, 388, 394, 396, 397, 398, 399, 402 Kahn, Victoria 4, 203, 411, 422, 558, 649, 650, 653, 730, 745, 758 Kainz, Peter 407, 408, 409, 410, 411, 415, 416 Kant, Immanuel 25, 27, 54, 55, 62, 114, 209, 223, 243, 246, 250, 259, 260, 261, 277, 287, 331, 426, 451, 480, 481, 493, 503, 519, 530, 540, 557, 571, 579, 581, 583, 584, 595, 634, 637, 642, 643, 667, 704, 718, 747, 748, 749, 750, 751, 752, 753, 754, 755, 756, 774, 778,780 Kaube, Jürgen 509 Kennedy, George A. 72, 81, 119, 146, 153, 158, 164, 165, 422, 437, 438, 454 Keos (Kea, island) 525 Kerferd, G. B. 432, 434, 435, 436, 454 Kettell, Ralph 550 Khan, M. Ali 8 Kienpointner, Manfred 435 Kierkegaard, Søren Aabye 600, 666

876 | Index

Kilian, Sven Thorsten 289, 292, 293, 304, 325, 329, 346, 351, 352, 370, 395, 404, 406, 409, 410, 415, 416 Kilwardby, Robert 187 King, Peter 350 Kittay, Jeffrey 676 Klein, Ignaz 249 Kloocke, Agnes 10 Kluge, Friedrich 484, 614 Knape, Joachim 507 Koch, Matthias 192, 234, 282, 615, 667 Köhler, Christian 192, 234, 282, 615, 667 Köhne, Ralf 8 Kohut, Karl 289, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 304, 314, 320, 341, 343 König, Christoph 21, 503 Kontulainen, Erika 678, 687 Kopp-Oberstebrink, Herbert 192 Korolec, J. B. 14, 18, 27, 188, 198, 199 Koselleck, Reinhart 247 Krampe, Christoph 443 Kranz, Walther 72, 139, 170, 173, 194, 247, 281, 313, 430, 433, 436, 457, 476, 489, 502, 591, 612, 638, 695, 739, 749, 779 Krapinger, Gernot 119, 146, 152, 161, 162, 422 Kraus, Christina Shuttleworth 400 Kraus, Manfred 427, 428, 429, 431, 433, 436 Krauß, Ulrike 10 Krauthausen, Karin 8, 149, 230, 231, 233, 246, 499, 608, 658, 714, 767 Kretzmann, Norman 66, 76, 106, 116, 117, 123, 125, 129, 130, 131, 132, 135, 137, 138, 140, 162, 166, 167, 169, 186, 200, 206, 207 Krüger, Michael 598 Krusche, Dorit 658 Kuhl, E. P. 396 Kundera, Milan 691 Küpper, Joachim 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 13, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 25, 32, 34, 38, 40, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 68, 69, 71, 73, 78, 79, 81, 83, 85, 91, 95, 98, 105, 111, 112, 114, 116, 121, 122, 128, 129, 133, 137, 154, 161, 165, 168, 170, 171, 172,

175, 176, 177, 184, 186, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 195, 196, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 224, 226, 227, 228, 232, 240, 245, 256, 264, 266, 287, 290, 294, 295, 302, 303, 304, 305, 307, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333, 335, 337, 339, 342, 343, 345, 346, 348, 352, 353, 356, 361, 362, 363, 365, 366, 369, 370, 374, 376, 384, 385, 391, 403, 412, 422, 424, 432, 443, 456, 460, 461, 462, 463, 464, 467, 469, 473, 481, 492, 503, 507, 517, 519, 535, 545, 570, 580, 582, 584, 587, 596, 597, 601, 605, 612, 614, 628, 639, 646, 649, 655, 672, 673, 675, 677, 678, 679, 680, 684, 685, 688, 689, 691, 692, 694, 696, 699, 707, 709, 718, 732, 737, 739, 740, 742, 754, 755, 756, 758, 762, 763, 764, 765, 767, 771, 772, 774, 775, 779, 780 Kustas, George L. 165, 459

La Mettrie, Julien Offray de 508 La Rochefoucauld, François 641 Laarmann, Matthias 102, 189, 658 Lacarra Lanz, Eukene (María Eugenia) 288, 291, 304, 342, 344, 348, 351 Lactantius, Lucius Caecilius Firmianus 276, 371, 624 Laelius Sapiens, Gaius 532 Lafleur, Claude 187, 190, 332 Lamb, W. R. M. 495, 575, 737 Lamprecht, Helmut 600 Lanham, Richard A. 393, 396, 401, 443, 448, 454, 676 Lapesa, Rafael 500 Laplace, Pierre-Simon 96 Lausberg, Heinrich 65, 67, 143, 150, 151, 154, 157, 158, 164, 166, 167, 170, 175, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 185, 221, 225, 273, 276, 297, 312, 335, 393, 402,

Index | 877

430, 450, 455, 459, 483, 484, 493, 582, 591, 614, 648, 661, 663, 664, 674, 675, 686, 737, 738, 763, 768, 771 Lawrance, Jeremy 289, 292, 314 Lazarillo de Tormes (Anonymous) 335, 336, 338, 340 Lee, A. Robert 738, 758 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 26, 189, 225, 519 Lenbach, Franz von 670 Leonardo da Vinci 628, 629 Leone Ebreo (Judah Abravanel) 6 Leppin, Volker 91, 160, 200 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim 6, 427, 617, 729, 731 Leube, Eberhard 312, 315, 316, 322, 323, 324, 325, 367, 368 Lever, J. W. 392, 394, 396, 401, 423, 424 Lévinas, Emmanuel 711 Lévi-Strauss, Claude 379 Lichtenberg, Georg Christoph 27, 114, 205, 234, 271, 336, 353, 465, 486, 568, 593, 635, 639, 660, 664, 702, 709, 727, 728, 739, 740, 781 Lida de Malkiel, María Rosa 288, 292, 305, 306, 307, 309, 310, 313, 315, 316, 320, 321, 325, 333, 336, 341, 367 Liebenberg (Manor) 684, 686, 687, 692 Ligurio (Mandragola) 406, 407, 410, 415 Lisi, Leonardo 8 Livy (Titus Livius) 27, 281, 373, 374, 377, 381, 382, 383, 387, 392, 394, 395, 401, 406, 408, 413, 414, 621, 761 Lobera, Francisco J. 289, 294 Locke, John 431, 642, 744 Löhner, Michael 435, 442 Long, A. A. 297, 299, 626 Lope de Vega 519 López Grigera, Luisa 171, 293, 312, 317, 323, 354, 355, 363, 368 Lord Henry (Wilde) 44, 474, 481, 483, 487, 488, 489, 490, 491, 497 Lord, Carnes 404, 411, 416 Lot (Scripture) 344

Lotman, Jurij M. 6, 223, 228, 314, 492, 501, 520, 536, 757 Louis XII of France 389 Lübbe, Hermann 168, 210, 212, 236, 535, 603, 607, 669 Lucian of Samosata 351, 429, 509, 538, 612 Lucrece (Shakespeare) 40, 155, 373, 377, 378, 388, 390, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 403, 405, 424 Lucrecia (Celestina) 303, 305, 306, 307, 309, 320, 343 Lucretia (Roman) 40, 41, 316, 364, 374, 375, 376, 377, 378, 380, 382, 383, 384, 385, 386, 387, 388, 389, 391, 395, 398, 400, 406, 408, 411, 412, 413, 414, 415, 418, 419, 534, 567 Lucretius 22, 194, 356, 539, 573, 575, 576, 626, 696 Lucrezia (Machiavelli) 41, 389, 391, 407, 409, 411, 412, 413, 414, 416, 779 Luft, Sebastian 535, 536 Luhmann, Niklas 261 Lukasiewicz, Jan 131 Luke (Evangelist) 629, 630 Lukes, Timothy J. 409 Luther, Martin 4, 89, 94, 95, 188, 190, 201, 204, 212, 247, 272, 350, 386, 431, 462, 507, 625, 631, 663, 730 Lütkehaus, Ludger 521, 766 Lutter und Wegener (Fontane) 617 Lycus (Hercules, Seneca) 566 Lyon, John B. 671, 672, 674, 676, 678, 680, 681, 685, 687, 691, 692

Mabbe, James 316, 340, 344 Macbeth (Shakespeare) 215 Mach, Ernst 243, 625 Machado, Manuel 441 Machiavelli, Niccolò 4, 7, 8, 27, 32, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 55, 57, 84, 89, 91, 155, 180, 184, 189, 201, 203, 204, 205, 211, 215, 220, 244, 287, 297, 319, 334, 339, 344, 345, 363, 373, 374, 380, 382, 385, 386, 389, 390, 391,

878 | Index

392, 400, 401, 404, 405, 406, 407, 408, 409, 410, 411, 412, 413, 414, 415, 416, 418, 421, 426, 440, 441, 449, 459, 461, 462, 463, 464, 465, 469, 477, 479, 558, 579, 582, 632, 641, 672, 685, 741, 752, 757, 758, 759, 760, 761, 763, 774, 776, 777, 778, 779, 780, 781 Mack, Peter 457, 458, 468 Maclean, Ian 262 Maestro, Jesús G. 303, 305, 315, 320, 346, 354, 355, 740 Mak, Rebecca 8, 9, 10 Makropoulos, Michael 207, 213 Malta (island) 740 Manichaeism 188, 189, 225 Mann, Heinrich 473, 672, 682, 692 Mann, Thomas 493, 512, 675, 678, 679, 683, 689, 691, 692, 693 Mansfield, Harvey C. 37, 61, 174, 203, 220, 221, 334, 337, 389, 404, 405, 406, 407, 408, 410, 411, 412, 413, 414, 415, 416, 464, 637, 685, 704, 757, 759, 760, 761 Marcel (À la recherche, Proust) 478 Marchesini, Paula 8, 9, 481, 570 Marciales, Miguel 318 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus 27, 72, 287, 476, 507, 516, 518, 519, 520, 524, 530, 531, 533, 537, 538, 541, 545, 546, 547, 548, 569, 579, 589, 591, 592, 602 Mark (Evangelist) 629, 630 Marquard, Odo 3, 5, 23, 25, 26, 27, 33, 44, 56, 65, 89, 121, 165, 192, 205, 207, 209, 210, 211, 212, 214, 219, 220, 223, 224, 227, 236, 239, 244, 254, 259, 261, 262, 274, 287, 311, 314, 315, 318, 326, 370, 376, 386, 461, 473, 475, 476, 479, 485, 491, 493, 498, 499, 501, 503, 507, 508, 509, 510, 512, 513, 518, 522, 551, 567, 577, 578, 581, 587, 588, 589, 590, 593, 596, 598, 599, 603, 605, 608, 609, 613, 614, 615, 623, 626, 629, 632, 634, 639, 640, 641, 642, 650,

661, 662, 667, 668, 669, 691, 701, 737, 741, 750, 781 Marquard, Traute 241, 261 Márquez Villanueva, Francisco 330 Marti, Hanspeter 427, 433, 435, 443, 457, 460 Martial (Marcus Valerius Martialis) 567, 568 Martínez Torrejón, José Miguel 314, 316, 317, 320, 342, 343, 350, 409, 411 Martinez, Ronald L. 383, 395, 400, 402, 404, 406, 407, 408, 409, 410, 411, 412, 414, 416 Marx, Karl 254, 573 Mattesilano, Matteo 277 Matthes, Melissa M. 374, 400, 402, 405, 406, 408, 409, 410, 411, 412, 414, 415, 416, 418, 462 Matthew (Evangelist) 629, 630 Matzat, Wolfgang 317 Mayer, Ruth 517, 591, 592 Mayfield, DS 16, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 26, 65, 71, 72, 77, 84, 91, 115, 143, 146, 153, 155, 168, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 180, 181, 185, 189, 191, 192, 203, 204, 205, 215, 219, 224, 231, 232, 233, 247, 250, 253, 261, 263, 264, 270, 273, 274, 275, 288, 295, 296, 297, 298, 300, 301, 302, 325, 326, 327, 328, 335, 336, 337, 338, 339, 341, 345, 349, 356, 357, 365, 374, 376, 380, 386, 393, 394, 395, 401, 402, 403, 405, 410, 417, 418, 421, 422, 424, 430, 431, 432, 434, 440, 444, 446, 453, 454, 455, 463, 464, 465, 467, 469, 472, 473, 474, 477, 478, 483, 484, 488, 493, 496, 499, 501, 502, 503, 512, 513, 515, 518, 520, 521, 525, 528, 529, 541, 551, 552, 554, 557, 558, 560, 562, 581, 582, 583, 584, 589, 590, 599, 601, 615, 617, 619, 620, 621, 623, 624, 629, 631, 639, 640, 643, 649, 652, 655, 669, 676, 699, 701, 704, 707, 711, 719, 723, 725, 732, 735, 740, 743, 747, 748, 755, 756, 757, 759, 761, 762,

Index | 879

763, 764, 765, 771, 772, 776, 777, 780, 781 McCracken, George E. 388, 459 McGillen, Michael 8 McGrady, Donald 294, 336, 342, 343 McLuhan, Marshall 34, 222, 237, 665 McNeely, Trevor 377, 424 Mecklenburg, Norbert 351, 671, 677, 679, 681, 686, 692 Medici (family) 390 Megara (Hercules, Seneca) 566, 567, 587 Megarian School 62, 210 Melanchthon, Philipp 436, 572, 578 Melibea (Celestina) 25, 37, 288, 289, 290, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 314, 315, 316, 317, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 342, 343, 354, 355, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 364, 365, 367, 369, 568 Melville, Herman 352, 543, 738, 766 Mendoza Negrillo, S. J., Juan de Dios 308, 310, 311, 313, 314, 318, 351, 362, 367 Menéndez Pelayo, Marcelino 292, 317, 320, 331, 334, 335, 336, 337, 347, 353, 365, 756 Menéndez Pidal, Ramón 345 Meno (Plato) 575 Mephistopheles (Faust, Goethe) 476, 477 Merker, Barbara 229 Meyer, Ahlrich 249, 481, 512, 538, 541, 611 Meyer, Herman 605, 651, 677, 678 Meyer, Martin 592, 698 Meyfart, Johann Matthäus 433 Midas (king) 521, 522 Mignucci, Mario 107, 125, 126, 131, 137, 143, 156, 166, 167, 168, 169, 171, 200 Milton, John 26, 27, 456, 558 Minucius Felix, Marcus 624, 625 Mittenzwei, Ingrid 512, 670, 672, 676, 677, 679, 682, 683, 684, 693 Mitys of Argos 19 Moerbeke, Guillaume de (William of) 117, 123, 128, 132, 133, 135, 169 Moirai (Parcae, the Norns, Fates, Wyrd Sisters) 20, 24, 130, 322, 323, 324, 325, 574

Möller, Melanie 242, 548, 577, 597, 611, 616, 643, 646, 647, 648, 651, 654, 662 Montaigne, Michel Eyquem de 4, 6, 7, 27, 32, 36, 50, 89, 108, 121, 201, 203, 205, 211, 215, 227, 240, 260, 261, 262, 264, 266, 270, 271, 275, 281, 282, 424, 434, 445, 450, 457, 458, 467, 472, 474, 475, 476, 477, 481, 509, 519, 525, 539, 569, 570, 571, 593, 595, 608, 620, 624, 625, 640, 641, 644, 654, 671, 683, 692, 693, 696, 698, 701 Montinari, Mazzino 568 Moos, Peter von 451, 452, 617 Morgan, William de 157 Moseley, Charles 625 Most, Glenn W. 771 Mota, Carlos 292 Müller, Lisa 9 Müller, Oliver 494, 620, 641, 647, 648 Müller-Seidel, Walter 672, 676, 677, 678, 682, 686, 692 Münzer, Lisa 7, 8, 10 Murray, Isobel 488 Musil, Robert 6, 659

Nachod, Hans 457 Napoleon Bonaparte 667 Narcissus 501 Naumann, Barbara 671, 682, 687 Navarro Gala, María Josefa 329, 367 Naya, Emmanuel 108 Nebrija, Antonio de 294 Nero (Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, Emperor) 306, 501, 566 Nestor (Homer, Shakespeare) 155 Neu, Eva 477 Neumann, Uwe 427, 428, 431, 433, 435, 448, 452, 455 Newman, Harel 7 Nicholas of Cusa (Nicolaus Cusanus) 48, 232, 263, 474, 620, 648 Nicholls, Angus 242, 579, 597, 643, 651, 700, 745

880 | Index

Nichols, Stephen G. 8, 303, 308, 416, 427, 451, 584, 730, 757 Nicia (Mandragola) 407, 409, 411, 415, 416 Nicias (Athenian general) 416 Nicolaus the Sophist 438 Nicole (Nicolas) Oresme 281 Nicostratus (Platonist) 138 Niehues-Pröbsting, Heinrich 128, 130, 153, 173, 274, 275, 278, 296, 297, 299, 300, 301, 302, 331, 332, 336, 360, 370, 408, 410, 422, 429, 431, 434, 435, 452, 481, 494, 519, 520, 527, 531, 538, 541, 543, 551, 554, 569, 599, 611, 623, 642, 646, 649, 650, 651, 654, 659, 662, 730, 747,765, 776, 777 Nietzsche, Friedrich 6, 20, 21, 22, 23, 26, 27, 44, 109, 170, 196, 197, 215, 240, 247, 250, 260, 263, 276, 281, 283, 287, 288, 335, 407, 429, 461, 465, 473, 475, 478, 479, 491, 492, 493, 495, 496, 498, 499, 501, 502, 503, 515, 518, 521, 534, 551, 554, 559, 567, 569, 581, 584, 585, 588, 590, 595, 596, 600, 602, 603, 606, 608, 611, 612, 618, 629, 639, 640, 641, 650, 651, 662, 666, 675, 677, 682, 703, 716, 719, 738, 739, 740, 744, 752, 774, 780 Nike (goddess) 416 Noller, Eva Marie 22 Nominalism (Medieval, Early Modern) 32, 57, 73, 78, 79, 89, 111, 148, 186, 188, 189, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 200, 201, 202, 205, 226, 324, 325, 326, 352, 461, 572, 636, 652, 697 Nonius Marcellus (grammarian, lexicographer) 308 Normore, Calvin G. 14, 41, 63, 68, 107, 131, 132, 138, 156, 159, 187, 196, 197, 198, 200 North, Michael 521 Notker der Deutsche 140, 169 Novalis (Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg) 69, 503, 666

Nürnberger, Helmuth 679, 681, 682, 685, 691

O’Brien, Mary 404, 411 Oberman, Heiko A. 94, 507, 620 Ockham, William of (Occam) 4, 114, 117, 131, 135, 136, 138, 162, 187, 189, 194, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201 Odysseus (Ulysses) 82, 155, 236, 400, 471, 567, 644, 647, 667, 777 Oedipus 542, 566 Oesterle, Jean T. 20, 79, 80, 103, 108, 110, 119, 122, 123, 131, 133, 135, 136, 137, 157, 159, 160, 163 Oldfather, W. A. 520, 543, 545, 551 Olk, Claudia 499 Olmsted, Wendy 207 Ong, S. J., Walter J. 244, 336 Onions, C. T. 160, 184, 416, 614, 670, 675 Order of Friars Minor Capuchin 517 Orduna, Germán 330, 336 Origen of Alexandria (Origenes) 192, 199, 578 Othello (Oth, Shakespeare) 454 Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso) 27, 74, 82, 340, 345, 381, 382, 383, 386, 387, 388, 394, 398, 399, 401, 409, 414, 418, 521, 530, 531, 537, 540, 562, 611, 614, 619, 685, 766

Paetus, Caecina 567, 568 Palahniuk, Chuck 592 Palmer, Michael 409, 415, 416 Parmenides 72 Parmeno (Caecilius Statius) 308 Pármeno (Celestina) 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 314, 316, 320, 321, 329, 330, 336, 340, 344, 346, 358, 366, 367, 368 Parrilla, Carmen 288, 292, 293, 313 Pascal, Blaise 13, 255, 257, 628, 629, 641 Passavant, Nicolas von 681 Pater, Walter 27, 287, 473, 478, 481, 482, 483, 638, 675

Index | 881

Pattison, D. G. 291, 292, 302, 310, 315, 316, 333, 346 Paul (Saul) of Tarsus 19, 68, 88, 94, 199, 200, 247, 357, 424, 569, 663 Paulus Diaconus 304, 761 Pawlita, Leonie 17, 245, 779 Peden, Margaret Sayers 323, 332, 340, 360 Pentheus (Euripides) 566 Penzkofer, Gerhard 284, 317, 655, 711, 775 Peregrinus Proteus 538 Perelman, Chaïm 436, 437 Pérez Fernández, José María 316, 330 Perípatos (Peripatetic School) 16, 63, 64, 79, 124, 138, 252, 332, 452, 474, 578, 618, 777 Perry, Ben Edwin 601, 729 Persaeus of Citium 520 Peter of Poitiers (Pictavian) 199 Petrarca, Francesco (Petrarch) 4, 6, 89, 198, 201, 304, 313, 333, 351, 394, 433, 441, 452, 457, 476, 641, 663, 723, 729, 735, 758 Petronius Arbiter, Gaius 521, 584 Pfeiffer, Peter 9, 681, 685 Pfligersdorffer, Georg 13, 20 Phaedra (Seneca) 568 Phaedrus (Freedman of Augustus) 729 Phèdre (Phaidros, Valéry) 53, 499 Phenomenology 17, 34, 35, 52, 147, 221, 222, 226, 233, 236, 237, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246, 248, 249, 250, 251, 256, 258, 260, 267, 269, 270, 274, 276, 278, 279, 280, 282, 535, 539, 540, 581, 601, 603, 607, 610, 620, 624, 640, 642, 644, 654, 659, 665, 666, 669, 703, 704, 706, 707, 709, 711, 714, 716, 717, 719, 723, 724, 727 Philip, Marva 8 Philo of Alexandria 558, 591 Philolaus (the Pythagorean) 532 Phryne 560 Piché, David 187, 190, 332 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni 578 Pilate, Pontius (Pilatus) 682 Pindar (Píndaros) 492

Pitkin, Hanna Fenichel 203, 405, 407, 408, 409, 410, 411, 412, 416, 741, 760 Pius XII (Pope) 579 Plato 5, 6, 27, 46, 54, 55, 62, 67, 75, 78, 86, 93, 105, 109, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 120, 131, 150, 154, 167, 174, 180, 188, 195, 214, 219, 221, 244, 250, 252, 253, 256, 257, 260, 269, 276, 287, 299, 312, 325, 332, 335, 350, 357, 379, 403, 428, 429, 430, 432, 435, 438, 448, 455, 463, 469, 475, 476, 493, 494, 495, 498, 499, 507, 511, 516, 519, 521, 523, 524, 525, 526, 527, 528, 529, 532, 534, 539, 549, 550, 553, 556, 560, 563, 565, 571, 572, 574, 575, 580, 581, 585, 588, 590, 605, 610, 611, 612, 615, 622, 623, 637, 638, 640, 646, 650, 651, 653, 659, 665, 703, 716, 724, 737, 749, 752, 757, 761, 765, 768, 771, 775 Platonism (Neo-Platonism) 54, 62, 78, 131, 138, 148, 188, 195, 244, 250, 252, 256, 260, 269, 276, 277, 325, 332, 379, 427, 430, 450, 452, 469, 494, 498, 499, 511, 516, 517, 519, 521, 525, 527, 528, 529, 532, 539, 549, 550, 556, 560, 565, 572, 574, 575, 580, 585, 590, 611, 623, 637, 640, 650, 651, 653, 665, 703, 716, 724, 757, 768, 771 Plautus, Titus Maccius 157, 374, 405, 621, 780 Pleberio (Celestina) 303, 307, 309, 310, 317, 320, 328, 330, 343, 352, 356, 363, 364 Plett, Bettina 671, 674, 675, 677, 678, 680, 682, 692 Plett, Heinrich F. 614 Pliny the Younger (Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus) 525 Plutarch 6, 72, 219, 288, 298, 374, 381, 382, 403, 446, 490, 519, 520, 537, 545, 551, 558, 567, 653, 779 Pluto (Hades, god) 320, 368, 521, 585

882 | Index

Poe, Edgar Allan 27, 54, 55, 287, 689, 766, 768, 769, 770, 771, 772, 773, 778 Poetik und Hermeneutik (research group) 3, 5, 26, 207, 224, 231, 248, 311, 509, 514, 585, 633, 646 Pohlenz, Max 515, 516, 519, 520, 528, 531, 538, 543, 564, 577, 579 Polgar, Alfred 522 Pollux 537 Polus (Gorgias, Plato) 150, 312, 737 Pontuso, James F. 409, 415, 416 Porphyry (of Tyre) 125 Prado (Museo Nacional, Madrid) 298 Preisendanz, Wolfgang 681, 690 Priam of Troy 155, 398 Price, Russell 778 Principles of Cultural Dynamics (PCD) 7, 8, 10 Priscian the Grammarian 438, 439 Proaza, Alonso de 292 Proclus (Lycaeus) 68 Prometheus (titan) 49, 471, 625, 640, 647, 667 Protagoras (of Abdera) 27, 108, 173, 429, 431, 433, 435, 436, 451, 454, 457, 476, 591, 778 Proteus (god) 155, 400, 743 Proust, Marcel 477, 478 Prudentius (Aurelius Prudentius Clemens) 424 Ps.-Longinus 755, 773, 775 Ps.-Ptolemy 579 Psalmist (Scripture) 630 Publilia (wife of Cicero) 446 Publius Decius Mus (Father and Son) 530 Pugachev, Yemelyan Ivanovich 501 Pushkin, Alexander Sergeyevich 501 Pythagoras (of Samos) 90, 532, 550

Quintilian 6, 17, 27, 30, 31, 42, 57, 107, 140, 143, 151, 154, 166, 167, 172, 175, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 233, 260, 276, 297, 346, 377, 421, 422, 423, 425, 427, 433, 437, 438, 439, 440, 441, 442, 444, 445,

446, 447, 448, 450, 451, 452, 453, 455, 456, 457, 467, 471, 598, 618, 624, 626, 649, 663, 676, 733, 738, 748, 753, 755

Rackham, H. 27, 85, 102, 145, 146, 530, 531, 546 Radaelli, Giulia 9, 468, 477, 764 Radcliff-Umstead, Douglas 404, 406, 409, 412, 414 Ramus, Petrus (Peter) 428 Rank, Jerry R. 293, 318, 323 Real Academia Española 318, 323, 340, 467, 468 Recki, Birgit 648 Regulus, Marcus Atilius 530, 534, 535 Reichel, Juliane 615, 637, 640, 659 Reid, Alastair 696 Reiss, Timothy J. 445, 458 Remus 723 Renaud, François 433, 434, 435 Rendall, Gerald H. 624 Reyero, Carlos 330 Rhetorica ad Herennium (Anonymous) 233, 276, 423, 433, 437, 439, 443, 447, 453 Rhodes, Neil 436, 445 Richard II of England (Shakespeare) 699 Richard, Duke of Gloucester (Shakespeare) 155, 352, 400, 401 Richmann, Georg Wilhelm 486 Rieger, Reinhold 91, 427, 430, 431, 433, 435, 436, 441, 447, 470 Riemer, Friedrich Wilhelm 415 Rilke, Rainer Maria 39, 51, 53 Rist, J. M. 516, 519, 520, 524, 526, 527, 528, 530, 533, 538, 542, 544, 545, 551, 554, 558, 562, 563, 564, 565, 567, 568, 569, 572, 653 Ritter, Henning 262, 283, 512, 599, 615, 640, 644, 660, 664, 665, 667, 669, 700 Ritter, Joachim 72, 101, 102, 234, 245, 253, 255, 256, 257, 258, 274, 590, 602 Robbins, Jeremy 465, 467, 468, 764

Index | 883

Robeck, Johan 568 Roberts, W. Rhys 81, 119, 146, 152, 163, 164, 422 Rochester, 2nd Earl of (John Wilmot) 488, 570, 611, 626, 641 Rocinante (Cervantes) 288, 295 Rodríguez Puértolas, Julio 337, 351, 368 Rohde, Carsten 3, 56, 68, 121, 204, 207, 213, 312, 325, 363, 677, 678, 679, 680, 681, 682, 683, 689, 739, 780 Rohr, Mathilde von 684, 692 Rojas (family) 291 Rojas, Fernando de 4, 27, 32, 37, 40, 57, 201, 205, 215, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 294, 304, 305, 310, 311, 313, 314, 319, 322, 328, 330, 333, 335, 336, 339, 343, 346, 351, 366, 368, 371, 395, 406, 409, 476, 482, 568 Rolfes, Eugen 13, 124, 133, 134, 135, 143, 146, 523 Romulus 413, 723 Rorty, Richard 15, 108, 109, 240, 331, 478, 507, 570, 594, 603, 612, 657, 738, 739, 749, 756 Rose, Arthur 296 Ross, Sir David 63, 64, 69, 70, 71, 73, 75, 76, 77, 78, 86, 91, 92, 93, 100, 103, 108, 114, 116, 132, 136, 143, 144, 145, 147, 148, 149, 175, 253, 254, 452 Rössler, Reto 194, 313 Roswitha (Effi Briest, Fontane) 688, 689 Rothacker, Erich 267, 480, 611 Rouart-Valéry, Agathe 596 Round, Nicholas G. 291, 308, 311, 328, 330, 336, 338, 340, 346, 359, 366 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 482, 568, 707 Rudd, Niall 536 Russell, Donald A. 182, 377, 440 Russell, P. E. 316, 318, 320, 323

Saguar García, Amaranta 325, 333, 345, 351 Sallust (Gaius Sallustius Crispus) 308, 315, 374, 621 Salutati, Coluccio 408

Salvador Miguel, Nicasio 291, 292, 294, 310 Samonà, Carmelo 294, 312, 323, 330, 345, 351, 358, 369 Sánchez-Albornoz, Claudio 338, 345, 351 Sancho Panza (Cervantes) 288, 295 Sansone, David 771 Saracino, Stefano 405, 412, 413, 416 Sartre, Jean-Paul 222 Satan (Milton) 558 Saturnalia 541, 544 Saul (king, Scripture) 758 Sbrocchi, Leonard G. 779 Scaliger, Julius Caesar 248, 258, 620 Schaeffer, Jean-Marie 5, 6, 7, 13, 33, 76, 114, 175, 219, 229, 231, 236, 248, 278, 283, 383, 391, 484, 494, 543, 621, 658, 698, 734, 740, 743, 744, 768, 781 Schalk, Fritz 295, 332, 334, 336, 353, 363, 367 Scheler, Max 250, 259 Schiappa, Edward 430, 433, 435, 436, 452, 454, 457 Schirren, Thomas 435 Schlegel Brothers (August Wilhelm and Friedrich) 664 Schliemann, Heinrich 158 Schmauks, Dagmar 671, 678, 692 Schmitt, Arbogast 502 Schmitz, Alexander 192, 373 Schoeck, Richard J. 471 Scholasticism (Medieval) 32, 63, 123, 186, 187, 189, 194, 196, 197, 199, 201, 202, 226, 247, 312, 324, 337, 352, 427, 578, 778 Schopenhauer, Arthur 14, 20, 21, 23, 27, 62, 71, 76, 78, 86, 89, 90, 100, 123, 140, 154, 246, 248, 271, 279, 287, 418, 422, 443, 448, 449, 451, 453, 460, 465, 467, 468, 472, 507, 515, 517, 521, 523, 546, 548, 552, 553, 575, 576, 581, 589, 615, 618, 621, 622, 641, 651, 707, 721, 729, 744, 750, 751, 762, 765, 766, 780 Schottlaender, Rudolf 313 Schreier, Benjamin 300

884 | Index

Schulz-Buschhaus, Ulrich 312, 462 Scipio Calvus, Gnaeus Cornelius 530, 561 Scipio Maior (Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus Maior) 528, 529 Scipio Minor (Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus Africanus Minor) 528, 529, 532 Scipio, Publius Cornelius (brother of Gnaeus Calvus) 530, 561 Scipio, Quintus Caecilius Metellus 377 Scotus, John Duns 187, 189, 196, 197, 199, 202 Searle, John 536 Sebond, Raimond (Raymund of Sabunde, Raimundus Sabundus) 472, 698 Sedley, D. N. 626 Seidl, Horst 112, 117, 118, 120, 152 Sempronio (Celestina) 294, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 314, 316, 318, 320, 321, 326, 336, 339, 340, 351, 352, 353, 355, 356, 357, 358, 359, 367 Seneca the Elder 140, 165, 377, 426, 443, 618, 673, 675, 747, 753, 755 Seneca, Lucius Annaeus (the Younger) 6, 20, 27, 45, 46, 47, 143, 167, 287, 298, 340, 352, 394, 396, 399, 434, 451, 457, 459, 474, 476, 477, 480, 481, 489, 507, 508, 513, 514, 515, 516, 517, 518, 519, 521, 525, 526, 527, 528, 530, 533, 535, 536, 537, 538, 541, 542, 547, 548, 550, 551, 554, 555, 556, 557, 559, 560, 561, 562, 563, 564, 565, 566, 567, 568, 569, 570, 571, 572, 573, 574, 575, 576, 579, 580, 581, 582, 583, 584, 585, 586, 587, 588, 589, 591, 592, 593, 594, 595, 596, 597, 598, 599, 601, 608, 624, 626, 677, 685, 693 Sepúlveda, Jesús 321 Sereno, Renzo 416 Serés, Guillermo 291, 294 Servius (Maurus Servius Honoratus) 500 Sevenster, J. N. 542 Severin, Dorothy S. 289, 290, 291, 292, 294, 303, 308, 310, 313, 314, 315, 316, 318, 319, 320, 321, 325, 333,

335, 336, 340, 342, 343, 344, 348, 357, 358, 362, 368, 370 Sextus Empiricus 72, 245, 474, 739 Shakespeare, William 4, 8, 24, 27, 32, 39, 40, 42, 57, 89, 108, 144, 145, 155, 201, 205, 215, 220, 221, 223, 274, 287, 293, 307, 341, 352, 373, 378, 382, 385, 386, 387, 389, 390, 391, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 398, 399, 401, 402, 403, 404, 405, 410, 412, 418, 421, 423, 424, 426, 436, 447, 454, 471, 515, 520, 530, 531, 595, 678, 691, 699, 730, 757, 762, 769 Shankman, Steven 3, 612 Sharples, Robert W. 18, 64, 65, 66, 68, 70, 73, 76, 86, 110, 125, 126, 129, 132, 136, 138, 140, 145, 175 Shields, David 483, 603 Shimoda, Kazunobu 8 Shipley, George A. 290, 295, 313, 320, 329, 336, 339, 342, 351 Sibyl (Cumaean) 521 Sices, David 779 Sicily (island) 737 Sidney, Sir Philip 378 Sieveke, Franz G. 83, 119, 146, 153, 158, 161, 173 Silenus 521, 522 Simek, Rudolf 24 Simmel, Georg 247, 261, 334, 495, 701 Simplicius of Cilicia 124, 125, 134, 136, 138, 140, 160, 622 Simpson, Lesley Byrd 292, 293 Singleton, Charles S. 405, 410, 412, 416 Singleton, Mack Hendricks 305, 316, 340 Sinon (Trojan War, Shakespeare) 155, 398 Skepticism (Pyrrhonism) 17, 58, 73, 79, 80, 89, 121, 133, 171, 172, 211, 212, 214, 239, 245, 251, 259, 261, 273, 450, 457, 462, 474, 507, 509, 517, 527, 539, 551, 577, 589, 590, 599, 610, 624, 625, 632, 640, 641, 643, 668, 671, 682, 683, 697, 698, 701, 707, 739 Skinner, Quentin 423, 425, 431, 437, 444, 445, 454, 456

Index | 885

Sloane, Thomas O. 4, 175, 225, 227, 371, 422, 427, 428, 429, 431, 432, 433, 434, 435, 441, 446, 449, 450, 452, 455, 456, 457, 462, 469, 471 Sloterdijk, Peter 296, 300, 339 Smith, Craig R. 435, 436 Smith, Martin Ferguson 18, 22, 626 Snell, Bruno 391, 507, 776, 780 Snow, Joseph T. 292, 295, 310, 313, 334 Socrates 46, 49, 86, 148, 255, 259, 266, 332, 357, 371, 428, 429, 432, 439, 452, 462, 469, 474, 497, 511, 516, 520, 521, 522, 523, 524, 525, 526, 527, 528, 529, 534, 549, 550, 554, 559, 563, 564, 565, 566, 570, 575, 580, 585, 588, 599, 600, 601, 611, 615, 622, 623, 624, 625, 627, 638, 639, 640, 641, 642, 653, 716 Sokolov, Pavel V. 385, 408, 567, 576 Solon (of Athens) 382 Sombart, Werner 591, 595 Sommer, Andreas Urs 517, 529, 536, 542, 763 Sommer, Manfred 4, 17, 21, 25, 87, 163, 187, 192, 193, 201, 208, 209, 214, 222, 223, 234, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 248, 249, 250, 251, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 261, 264, 265, 266, 267, 270, 271, 274, 276, 277, 278, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 374, 479, 485, 488, 518, 524, 536, 577, 579, 580, 597, 602, 603, 604, 607, 609, 614, 615, 623, 624, 635, 637, 640, 641, 642, 644, 649, 650, 654, 704, 725, 726, 727 Sopatros (rhetor) 438 Sophistics (Sophists, Sophistic movements) 30, 31, 42, 54, 55, 57, 62, 90, 100, 108, 109, 111, 112, 113, 114, 117, 119, 120, 121, 122, 124, 125, 128, 138, 144, 158, 169, 170, 173, 174, 177, 178, 180, 184, 247, 427, 428, 429, 430, 431, 432, 435, 439, 440, 443, 452, 454, 455, 463, 509, 520, 549, 555, 590, 610, 615, 619, 639, 640, 643, 650, 651, 662, 743, 749, 750, 767, 771, 774, 775

Sophocles 6, 521 Sorabji, Richard 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 73, 78, 79, 86, 89, 94, 104, 116, 117, 118, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 129, 131, 132, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 140, 143, 145, 157, 158, 196, 200, 207, 210 Sosia (Celestina) 303, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 322 Sostrata (Mandragola) 406, 407, 410, 411 Southampton, 3rd Earl of (Henry Wriothesley) 390 Spalatin, Georg (Burkhardt) 507 Sparenberg, Tim 194, 313 Spedding, James 248, 250, 583, 675, 742, 780 Spevack, Marvin 423 Spinoza, Baruch de 608 Spitzer, Leo 410, 472 Staab, Gregor 435, 439 Stackelberg, Jürgen von 203, 404 Starobinski, Jean 248, 592, 659 Steinfeld, Thomas 435 Steinmetz, Sol 184, 274, 393, 416, 614, 670, 675, 746 Stephen Dedalus (Joyce) 558 Stern, Charlotte 291, 292, 293, 314, 325, 346 Stiegler, Bernd 192, 373 Stierle, Karlheinz 3, 5, 137, 205, 227, 260, 263, 292, 509, 510, 628, 629, 639 Stoa (Stoicism) 9, 16, 24, 25, 46, 47, 68, 73, 97, 108, 116, 125, 129, 136, 138, 187, 214, 298, 328, 332, 349, 351, 451, 474, 511, 515, 516, 517, 518, 520, 524, 525, 526, 527, 529, 530, 531, 532, 535, 536, 537, 538, 539, 540, 541, 542, 543, 544, 545, 546, 548, 549, 550,551, 552, 553, 554, 556, 558, 559, 561, 562, 563, 565, 567, 568, 571, 572, 573, 574, 575, 576, 577, 578, 579, 580, 581, 583, 588, 592, 593, 597, 608, 610, 618, 626, 653, 716, 763 Stoellger, Philipp 625 Stolt, Birgit 431

886 | Index

Strauss, Leo 13, 15, 16, 18, 91, 174, 203, 220, 253, 256, 278, 299, 300, 351, 374, 386, 389, 405, 408, 410, 413, 416, 421, 464, 585, 611, 621, 623, 651, 672, 704, 757, 760, 761 Strech, Heiko 677, 678, 679, 681, 682, 683, 692, 701 Striker, Gisela 66, 110, 125, 138, 160 Suetonius (Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus) 373 Sumberg, Theodore A. 405, 407, 409, 410, 411, 415, 416, 418 Surveyor Pue (Hawthorne) 290, 291 Symmachus, Quintus Aurelius 780 Szabó, Erzsébet 605 Szondi, Peter 21, 62, 499, 501, 503, 780

Tacitism 391 Tacitus, Cornelius P. 13, 24, 391, 576, 624, 761 Talanga, Josip 67, 123, 125, 126, 131, 132, 134, 135, 136, 138, 140, 143, 166, 167, 168, 209 Tarquin (family) 380, 383, 384, 386, 390, 399, 402, 413, 414 Tarquin, Sextus (Shakespeare) 40, 155, 391, 392, 396, 397, 398, 399, 401, 408, 411, 424 Tarquinius Superbus, Lucius 374, 377, 383, 384, 386, 402 Tarquinius, Sextus (Roman) 40, 343, 377, 383, 384, 387, 408, 411 Tatlock, Lynne 9, 671, 672, 676, 681 Tempier, Étienne (Stephanus) 112, 119, 187, 188, 190, 198 Terence (Publius Terentius Afer) 172, 303, 501, 684 Tertullian, Quintus Septimius Florens 571, 594, 619, 626 Teskey, Gordon 26 Teuber, Bernhard 472 Thales (of Miletus) 87, 247, 555, 556, 588, 593, 633 The Humanities Center (Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, MA) 8 Theocritus 357

Theognis of Megara 521 Theophrastus 194, 219, 313, 357, 778 Thomas Buckingham 198 Thomas, Christian 672, 692 Thomas, George 407, 409, 411, 416 Tiberius Rhetor 502 Timm, Hermann 233, 494, 632, 644 Tolkien, J. R. R. 596 Tolksdorf, Nina 8 Torquatus, Titus Manlius Imperiosus 530 Traso (Celestina) 303, 309 Trauer, Hanna Zoe 7 Treaty of Tordesillas (1494) 294 Tredennick, Hugh 64, 70, 85, 89, 92, 93, 94, 95, 100, 101, 109, 110, 118, 144, 146, 147, 149, 153, 176, 253 Tricipitinus, Spurius Lucretius 384, 398, 399, 414 Trier, Jost 744 Trimpi, Wesley V, 3, 5, 6, 7, 13, 33, 108, 109, 112, 129, 147, 148, 149, 150, 161, 163, 165, 166, 170, 172, 175, 177, 178, 180, 182, 183, 184, 185, 234, 245, 248, 251, 252, 253, 257, 279, 377, 380, 381, 383, 384, 391, 417, 418, 437, 441, 445, 448, 449, 450, 452, 457, 475,481, 532, 546, 612, 628, 673, 674, 675, 693, 735 Tristán (Celestina) 303, 306, 308, 309, 323 Trotter, G. D. 318 Troy (Troía, Ilium) 155, 156, 157, 158, 398 Trüstedt, Katrin 407, 484, 627 Tryphon 591 Tucker, Brian 671, 681, 682, 692 Tudor (family) 390 Twain, Mark 158, 585, 603, 605 Týche (Fortuna, goddess) 3, 4, 20, 24, 38, 53, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 74, 82, 83, 84, 85, 88, 89, 98, 104, 112, 190, 201, 205, 208, 214, 240, 302, 309, 310, 311, 312, 315, 318, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 333, 366, 367, 368, 373, 377, 409, 421, 514, 537, 555, 564, 567, 569, 585, 741 Tylus, Jane 405, 409, 411, 412

Index | 887

Ueding, Gert 614 Uhlmann, Gyburg 577 Ulpian (Domitius Ulpianus) 537

Vaihinger, Hans 261, 543, 710 Valerius Maximus 373, 377, 381, 382, 413, 414 Valéry, Paul 27, 39, 51, 53, 54, 55, 95, 159, 184, 230, 248, 283, 287, 421, 484, 491, 498, 499, 503, 592, 596, 603, 608, 614, 621, 628, 629, 659, 728, 738, 743, 766, 767, 768, 769, 773, 778 Van Breda, Herman Leo 607 Velleius Paterculus, Marcus 507 Venus (Shakespeare) 378 Vergil (Virgil) 82, 340, 344, 345, 366, 562, 569 Verginia (Virginia, Roman) 377 Vettori, Francesco 244, 741, 760 Vickers, Nancy J. 394, 396, 401, 402 Vico, Giambattista 653 Vilches, Patricia 409 Villwock, Jörg 427, 428, 433, 435, 461, 465 Vincenz, Guido 673, 674, 677, 678, 679 Vogel, Christian 129, 531, 541, 544 Vogelgsang, Fritz 318 Vogt, Peter 4, 15, 25, 28, 63, 64, 65, 67, 72, 79, 85, 86, 97, 100, 112, 118, 127, 136, 146, 191, 201, 202, 205, 207, 209, 212, 213, 214, 311, 763 Voller, Christian 509, 649, 666 Voltaire 56, 612, 627 Voss, Lieselotte 598, 672, 678, 680, 683, 686, 692, 693 Vries, Hent de 8 Vulcan (Hephaistos, god) 530, 555

Wagner (Faust, Goethe) 477 Wakefield, Tanu 6 Waldenfels, Bernhard 13, 25, 72, 146, 149, 195, 257, 281, 351, 461 Wardropper, Bruce W. 310 Warmington, E. H. 761

Warning, Rainer 3, 488 Waszynski, Alexander 3, 8, 251, 255, 256, 379, 512, 539, 577, 615, 651, 653, 660, 669, 671, 672, 678, 679, 681, 683, 694, 699, 739 Way, Arthur S. 567 Webber, Edwin J. 404 Weber, Philipp 194, 313 Weidemann, Hermann 133, 134, 135 Weimann, Robert 447 Weinrich, Harald 626 Weise, Christian 465 Wellbery, David E. 747, 750 Wende, Waltraud 623, 692 Werner, Jürgen 221 Wesche, Jörg 9, 453 Wetz, Franz Josef 24, 25, 128, 137, 189, 207, 208, 209, 233, 263, 313, 315, 480, 481, 494, 572, 589, 596, 631, 632 Whinnom, Keith 291, 295 Whitman, Walt 421, 738 Wicksteed, P. H. 14, 26, 63, 65, 69, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76, 77, 86, 90, 91, 92, 94, 95, 98, 109, 115 Wieland, Christoph Martin 513 Wiethoff, William E. 411 Wilde, Oscar 27, 44, 287, 421, 473, 474, 476, 478, 482, 483, 485, 486, 487, 488, 489, 490, 491, 494, 496, 497, 501, 502, 641 Wilhelm (wine cooper, Fontane) 617, 618 William (Guillaume) of Auvergne 198 Williams, W. Glynn 612 Williamson, George 531, 550 Wilson, Thomas 433, 435, 437, 438, 440, 441, 453, 454, 658 Winter, Ernst F. 462 Winterbottom, M. 426 Wippel, John F. 68, 69, 105, 140, 162, 187, 195, 200, 206 Wisse, Jakob 446 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 27, 241, 256, 287, 481, 490, 507, 581, 582, 588, 598, 603, 604, 605, 606, 607, 609, 610, 611, 704 Wölfel, Kurt 678

888 | Index

Worms (1521) 507 Woudhuysen, H. R. 378, 387, 388, 390, 391, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 402 Wrangel, Friedrich von (Count, Prussian Field Marshal) 51, 684, 685, 686, 687, 688, 691, 692 Wright, Heather Hadar 407, 414 Wüllersdorf (Effi Briest, Fontane) 605, 690

Xanthippe 642 Xenophanes of Colophon 72, 695 Xenophon (of Athens) 259, 623, 640

Yeats, W. B. (William Butler) 475

Zagzebski, Linda Trinkaus 157, 158, 159, 200 Zambon, Nicola 56, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193, 194, 199, 201, 236, 249, 255, 256, 275, 276, 282, 475, 603, 615, 629, 630, 631, 704 Zarathustra (Nietzsche) 493 Zekl, Hans Günter 65, 85, 86, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 100, 173 Zeno of Citium (the Stoic) 68, 349, 515, 518, 520, 524, 527 Zepp, Susanne 291 Zeus (god) 24, 430, 542 Zill, Rüdiger 270, 601, 640, 666, 667 Zimmermann, Hans Dieter 679, 680, 681, 683, 687, 692 Zola, Émile 679 Zonaras, Joannes 373, 374, 380, 387, 414