The Stoic Doctrine of Providence. A Study of its Development and of Some of its Major Issues 9781138125162, 9781032049083, 9781315647678

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The Stoic Doctrine of Providence

The Stoic Doctrine of Providence attempts to reconstruct the Stoic doctrine of providence (as argued for in ancient texts now lost) and explain its many fascinating philosophical issues. Examining issues such as the compatibility between good and evil, and how a provident god can serve as model of political leadership, this is the first monograph of its kind to focus on the question of Stoic providence. It offers an in-depth study of the meaning and importance of this topic in eight distinct generations of Stoics, from Zeno of Citium (fourth century B.C.) to Panaetius of Rhodes (second century B.C.) to Marcus Aurelius (second century A.D.). The Stoic Doctrine of Providence is key reading for anyone interested in Ancient Stoicism or the study of divine providence in a philosophical setting. Bernard Collette is Associate Professor of Ancient Philosophy at Laval University, Quebec, Canada. He is the co-editor of L’esprit critique dans l’Antiquité I. Critique et licence dans l’Antiquité (2019), and the author of books and articles on Neoplatonism and Stoicism. He is editor at the Laval théologique et philosophique.

Issues in Ancient Philosophy Series editor: George Boys-Stones, University of Toronto, Canada

Routledge’s Issues in Ancient Philosophy exists to bring fresh light to the central themes of ancient philosophy through original studies which focus especially on texts and authors which lie outside the central ‘canon’. Contributions to the series are characterised by rigorous scholarship presented in an accessible manner; they are designed to be essential and invigorating reading for all advanced students in the field of ancient philosophy. Forms, Souls, and Embryos Neoplatonists on Human Reproduction James Wilberding Epicurus on the Self Attila Németh The Hieroglyphics of Horapollo Nilous Hieroglyphic Semantics in Late Antiquity Mark Wildish Taurus of Beirut The Other Side of Middle Platonism Federico M. Petrucci Ancient Logic, Language, and Metaphysics Selected Essays by Mario Mignucci Edited by Andrea Falcon and Pierdaniele Giaretta The Stoic Doctrine of Providence A Study of its Development and of Some of its Major Issues Bernard Collette https://www.routledge.com/Issues-in-Ancient-Philosophy/book-series/ ANCIENTPHIL

The Stoic Doctrine of Providence A Study of its Development and of Some of its Major Issues Bernard Collette

First published 2022 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Bernard Collette The right of Bernard Collette to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-1-138-12516-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-04908-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-64767-8 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678 Typeset in Times New Roman by codeMantra

Nature produces her fruits, and does not reject them (Sen. Ep. 121.18) To my mum, Monique Peret

Contents

List of abbreviations Acknowledgements Introduction 1 Why study Stoic providence? 1 2 Was Stoicism a philosophy or a religion? 3 3 Stoic providence in context 10

xiii xix 1

1 Zeno on providence 1 Providence as one of god’s names 18 2 Providence and nature 19 2.1 Nature as a craftsmanlike fire 19 2.2 Nature as a craftsman 22 3 Providence and divination 25 4 Does god care for even ‘the slightest of things’? 28

18

2 Cleanthes on providence 1 The world is governed by a divine mind 38 2 A cosmobiologogical approach 40 2.1 The world as an intelligent living being and a god 40 2.2 The sun as the commanding faculty of the world 41 2.3 The earth as the privileged object of providence 44 3 The maintenance and destruction of the cosmic order 45 3.1 The importance of earthly water 45 3.2 Cleanthes and Zeno on cosmic ekpurôsis 48 4 Cleanthes’ disagreement with Zeno’s theodicy 51 5 God’s care for human beings 53 5.1 All sins are equal 53 5.2 The starting points towards virtue 55 5.3 Cleanthes and Chrysippus on aphormai 57

37

viii

Contents

3 Chrysippus’ On Providence 1 On Providence, book I 68 1.1 The world is a rational animal 68 1.2 The world soul and its parts 70 1.3 The world is full of gods 71 1.4 The destructibility of the world 74

65

1.4.1 The three senses of ‘world’ 74 1.4.2 Gods and destructibility 75 1.4.3 The world will not die 77

1.5 Zeus’ withdrawal into providence and the renewal of the world 79 2 On Providence, book IV 81 2.1 Providence and theodicy 81 2.2 Why good and evil are not separable 83 2.3 Why providence and evils are not incompatible 87 3 Fate and moral responsibility 92 3.1 Chrysippus on fate 92 3.2 Nature’s provision against the misfortunes of fate 94 4 Panaetius on providence 1 Panaetius’ On Providence 104 2 The world is indestructible 105 3 Doubts about divination 108 4 Rejection of astrology 109 4.1 Panaetius’ expertise and Pythagorean approach to cosmology 110 4.2 Arguments against astrology 112 5 The human telos and the power of reason 114 6 Reason, wisdom and politics 118

103

5 Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence 1 Posidonius on the human telos 126 2 Reason as a criterion of truth 128 3 God’s providence and the cosmos 131 3.1 The unity of the world and the sympathy of its parts 132 3.2 The providential power of heaven and the harmonizing function of the sun 134 4 Against Epicurus 136 5 Providence and the city (Sen. Ep. 90) 140 5.1 The condition of the first human beings according to Seneca 141

126

5.1.1 Philosophy and wisdom did not yet exist 141 5.1.2 The appearance of greed and the invention of crafts 142

Contents ix 5.2 The condition of the first human beings according to Posidonius 143 5.2.1 Kingship and the voluntary submission to the best 145 5.2.2 The political usefulness of wisdom 150 5.2.3 The emergence of vice and the rule of law 151

6 Seneca on providence 1 Providence and the free unfolding of nature 158 2 Wisdom and the unfolding of human nature 161 2.1 The imperfection of human reason 161 2.2 Human impulse towards knowledge 164 2.3 Providence and the human telos 165 3 The practical and political dimension of contemplation 168 3.1 The ideal of an unimpeded life: death and the easy way out 168 3.2 The political life and its potential obstacles 169 3.3 Stoic will versus Platonic reluctance to engage in politics 172 4 From the cosmic city to Nero’s imperial administration 176 4.1 The king as god’s viceroy 177

158

4.1.1 Absolute power and accountability 178 4.1.2 God’s providence and philanthropy 180

4.2 Clemency and the obedience of the people 182 7 Epictetus on providence 1 Praising providence, or not 193 1.1 Human beings and contemplation 194 1.1.1 God and the world: a spectacle to contemplate 194 1.1.2 Why most human beings fail to contemplate 198 1.1.3 The cause of double ignorance 201

1.2 The inner nobility of human beings 204 1.2.1 Misfortunes and god’s apparent lack of care for human beings 205 1.2.2 God as father of humans 206 1.2.3 Man’s nobility and how it is getting perverted 208 1.2.4 Prohairesis and reason’s self-assessment 210 1.2.5 Baseness and ungratefulness 213

2 Providence, philostorgia and human societies 214 2.1 From parental love of children to philanthrôpia 214 2.2 Philostorgia as a natural affection 216 2.3 Epicurus’ anti-social views and the destruction of the city 217 2.3.1 Epicureanism as a perverted philosophy 217 2.3.2 Why did Epicurus care? Or on the indomitable force of nature 220

192

x Contents 8 Marcus Aurelius on providence 1 The perfection of the world and its compatibility with evil 225 1.1 God’s will and its necessary consequences 225 1.2 A familiar world 228 1.3 Nature and the necessity of evil 229 2 Providence and the freedom to sin and to correct oneself 232 2.1 The power not to fall into evil 232 2.2 The right to self-correct 236 3 Providence and the Stoic doctrine of the principles 237 3.1 Two principles, one cause only 237 3.2 Everything turns on judgement 239 3.3 Matter and the things that are indifferent 240

225

3.3.1 Being indifferent to what is indifferent 240 3.3.2 Indifferent things in relation to other people 242

4 Providence and politics 245 4.1 Do gods care about individual human beings? 245 4.2 How gods care about human beings 248 4.2.1 Divine justice 248 4.2.2 Caring even for the bad 251

4.3 Marcus’ views on politics and his benevolence towards the people 253 9 Providence and self-preservation 1 Nature and the heed for self-preservation 262 2 Oikeiôsis and the preservation of life 264 2.1 Self-knowledge 264 2.2 Self-affection 267 2.3 Oikeiôsis as a sine qua non condition 269 3 Providence or atoms? The Epicurean challenge 270 3.1 Oikeiôsis and the cradle argument 271 3.2 Hierocles’ attack on Epicureanism 272 3.3 Lucretius on sense-perceiving one’s own capacities 273 3.4 Oikeiôsis and the love for the ugly 277 4 Stoics and Epicureans on the conservation of life 280 4.1 Lucretius and adaptation 280 4.2 The Stoics and adaptation to oneself 283 10 From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence 1 The object(s) of divine providence 291 1.1 The world 291 1.2 Human beings 293 2 Alexander’s objection and the Stoic reply 294

262

291

Contents xi 3 The Stoics on the good and the advantageous 295 3.1 The good and what is advantageous (to oneself) 295 3.2 Oikeiôsis and the good 299 4 Cosmic oikeiôsis 301 4.1 God has sense-perception 302 4.1.1 Sense-captors located in the air 303 4.1.2 Other sense-captors 304

4.2 God has impulses 306 4.2.1 Impulse as cause of movements 306 4.2.2 Cosmic impulses 307 4.2.3 The self-maintenance of the world 309

5 Providence and individuals 311 5.1 Epictetus’ account 311 5.1.1 Ancient conceptions of god 311 5.1.2 Socrates and god’s omniscience 312 5.1.3 Demonstration of personal providence 313

5.2 Cicero’s account 316 5.2.1 Parts and whole 316 5.2.2 Divination and the apparent neglect of humans by the gods 318

5.3 The reception of the Stoic defence of personal providence 321 Bibliography Glossary of Greek terms Glossary of Latin terms Index of sources General index

331 343 351 353 367

Abbreviations

Ach. Tat. Achilles Tatius Introd. Arat. Introductio in Aratum (Introduction to the Phaenomena of Aratus) Alex. Alexander of Aphrodisias Fat. De fato (On Fate) In An. pr. In Aristotelis Analyticorum priorum librum I commentarius (On Aristotle’s Prior Analytics) Meteorol. In Aristotelis meteorologicorum libros commentaria (On Aristotle’s Meteorology) Mixt. De mixtione (On Mixture) Prov. De providentia (On Providence) Quaest. Quaestiones (Problems and Solutions) Alex. Lyc. Alexander of Lycopolis Man. Contra Manichaei opiniones disputatio (Against the Manicheans) Am. Ammonius In Ar. An. pr. In Aristotelis Analyticum priorum (On Aristotle’s Prior Analytics) Ap. Apuleius De Platone De Platone et dogmate eius (On Plato and his Doctrine) Ar. Aristotle Cael. De caelo (On the Heavens) De an. De anima (On the Soul) EE Ethica Eudemia (Eudemian Ethics) EN Ethica Nicomachea (Nicomachean Ethics) GA De generatione animalium (On the Generation of Animals) Met. Metaphysica (Metaphysics) Meteor. Meteorologica (Meteorology) PA De partibus animalium (On the Parts of Animals) Phys. Physica (Physics) Pol. Politica (Politics) Top. Topica (Topics) Ath. Athenaeus of Naucratis Deip. Deipnosophistae (The Learned Banqueters)

xiv Aug.

Abbreviations

Augustine Contra Jul. Contra Julianum (Against Julian of Eclanum) De civ. Dei De civitate Dei (The City of God) Aul. Gel. Aulus Gellius NA Noctes Atticae (Attic Nights) Calc. Calcidius In Tim. In Platonis Timaeum commentarius (On Plato’s Timaeus) Cic. Cicero Ad Att. Epistulae ad Atticum (Letters to Atticus) Brut. Brutus De leg. De legibus (On Laws) De re pub. De re publica (Republic) Div. De divinatione (On Divination) Fat. De fato (On Fate) Fin. De finibus (On Ends) Luc. Lucullus (book II of Academica Priora or Prior Academics) Mur. Pro Murena (For Lucius Murena) ND De natura Deorum (On the Nature of the Gods) Off. De officiis (On Appropriate Actions) Parad. Paradoxa Stoicorum (Paradoxes of the Stoics) Top. Topica (Topics) Tusc. Tusculanae disputationes (Tusculan Disputations) Var. Varro (book I of Academica Posteriora or Posterior Academics) Clem. Clement of Alexandria Strom. Stromata (Miscellanies) Cleom. Cleomedes, Caelestia (On the Heavens) Cyril Cyril of Alexandria Cont. Jul. Contra Julianum (Against Julian) Damascius Damascius In Phd. In Phaedonem I (On Plato’s Phaedo – Lecture I) D.-K. H. Diels and W. Kranz (eds.), Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, 6th edition. Berlin. 1952. D.L. Diogenes Laertius, Lives and Opinions of the Philosophers. E.-K. L. Edelstein and I. G. Kidd (eds.), Posidonius: volume I, The Fragments. Cambridge. 1972. Epic. Epicurus Ep. Hdt. Epistula ad Herodotum (Letter to Herodotus) Ep. Men. Epistula ad Menoeceum (Letter to Menoeceus) KD Kuriai doxai (Principal Doctrines) SV Sententiae Vaticanae (Vatican Sayings) Epict. Epictetus D. Dissertationes (Discourses) Ench. Enchiridion (Handbook) Epiphanius Epiphanius of Salamis Fid. De fide (On Faith) Eus. Eusebius of Caesarea

Abbreviations xv PE FDS

Fron.

Gal.

Ad M. Caes. Ad Verum De usu part. Foet. Hipp. off. med. PHP Plen. Quod animi mores

Hdt. Hes. Hier. Hipp. Justin L.-S. Lact. Lucr. M.A. Macr. M.-R.

WD El. eth. Ref. II Apol.

De ira Div. inst.

Med. Sat.

Praeparatio evangelica (Preparation for the Gospels) K. Hülser (ed.), Die Fragmente zur Dialektik der Stoiker. Neue Sammlung der Texte mit deutscher Übersetzung und Kommentaren, 4 Bde. StuttgartBad Cannstatt. 1987–1988. Fronto Epistulae ad M. Caesarem et invicem (Correspondence) Epistulae ad Verum Imperator (Correspondence) Galen De usu partium (On the Usefulness of the Parts of the Body) De foetuum formatione (On the Formation of the Fœtus) In Hippocratis de officina medici (On Hippocrates’ Surgery) De Platicis Hippocratis et Platonis (On the Doctrines of Hippocrates and Plato) De plenitudine (On Bodily Mass) Quod animi mores temperamenta corporis sequuntur (That the Capacities of the Soul Depend on the Mixtures of the Body) Herodotus, Historiae (Histories) Hesiod Works and Days Hierocles Elementa ethica (Elements of Ethics) Hippolytus of Rome Refutatio omnium haeresium (The Refutation of All Heresies) Justin Martyr Apologia secunda (Second Apology) A. A. Long and D. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, 2 vols. Cambridge. 1987. Lactantius De ira Dei (On the Wrath of God) Institutiones divinae (Divine Institutions) Lucretius, De rerum natura (On the Nature of Things). Marcus Aurelius Meditationes (Meditations) Macrobius Saturnalia J. Mansfeld and D. T. Runia (eds.), Aëtiana V. An Edition of the Reconstructed Text of the Placita with a Commentary and a Collection of Related Texts. Leiden and Boston. 2020.

xvi

Abbreviations

Musonius Nem. OLD Origen

Phil.

Diss. Nat. hom.

Comm. in Io. Princ. Aet. mundi Prov. Probus Immut.

Philod. Pl.

Pliny Plut.

Piet. Stoic. Apol. Euthd. Gorg. Leg. Parm. Phd. Phdr. Prot. Rep. Tht. Tim. Nat. Com. not. Fac. St. rep.

Porph. Procl.

De abst. In Alc.

In Eucl. Ps.-Andronicus De pass.

Musonius Rufus Dissertationum a Lucio digestarum reliquiae (Remains of Discourses Reported by Lucius) Nemesius of Emesa De natura hominis (On the Nature of Humans) P. G. W. Glare (ed.), Oxford Latin Dictionary, 2 vols. Oxford. 2012. Origen of Alexandria Commentarii in evangelium Ioannis (Commentary on the Gospel of John) De principiis (On the First Principles) Philo of Alexandria De aeternitate mundi (On the Eternity of the World) De providentia (On Providence) Quod omnis probus liber sit (Every Good Man is Free) Quod Deus immutabilis sit (On Divine Immutability) Philodemus De pietate (On Piety) Stoicorum historia (History of the Stoics) Plato Apologia Socratis (Apology of Socrates) Euthydemus Gorgias Leges (Laws) Parmenides Phaedo Phaedrus Protagoras Republic Theaetetus Timaeus Pliny the Elder Naturalis historia (Natural History) Plutarch De communibus notitiis (Against the Stoics on Common Conceptions) De facie in orbe lunae (Concerning the Face Which Appears in the Orb of the Moon) De Stoicorum repugnantiis (On Stoic Self-Contradictions) Porphyry De abstinentia (On Abstinence from Killing Animals) Proclus In Alcibiadem (Commentary on the First Alcibiades of Plato) In Euclidem (Commentary on Euclid’s Elements) Pseudo-Andronicus of Rhodes De passionibus (On Emotions)

Abbreviations xvii Ps.-Galen Histor. philos. Ps.-Plutarch S.E.

Sen.

SHA Simp. Stob. Strab. SVF Xen.

Placita M PH

Pseudo-Galen De historia philosophica (On the History of Philosophy) Pseudo-Plutarch Placita philosophorum (Opinions of the Philosophers) Sextus Empiricus Adversus mathematicos (Against the Mathematicians) Pyrrhôneioi hypotypôseis (Outlines of Pyrrhonism) Seneca De beneficiis (On Benefits) De clementia (On Clemency) Epistulae morales ad Lucilium (Letters) Naturales quaestiones (Natural Questions)

Ben. Clem. Ep. NQ Ot. Prov. De providentia (On Providence) Scriptores Historiae Augustae (Augustan History) Vita Marci Vita Marci Antonini philosophi (Life of Marcus Antoninus the Philosopher) Simplicius In Cat. In Aristotelis Categorias commentarium (On Aristotle’s Categories) Stobaeus Ecl. Eclogae Strabo Geo. Geographica H. von Arnim, Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, 4 vols. Leipzig: 1903–1924. Xenophon Mem. Memorabilia (Memoirs of Socrates)

Acknowledgements

This book has been long in the making. My first works on the topic date back to 2009–2010, when I received a postdoctoral grant from the city of Paris and had the chance to work at the Centre Léon Robin under the guidance of Jean-Baptiste Gourinat and meet with other specialists of the Stoa, in particular Thomas Bénatouïl. I was able to make significant progress from 2012 to 2014, thanks to a stipendiat granted by the Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung, which enabled me to do research in Cologne, Milan and Cambridge, and to benefit from discussions with many scholars, in particular Christoph Helmig, Marcel van Ackeren, Roberto Radice, Emmanuele Vimercati and David Sedley. Other projects then demanded my attention, and I was able to work on the book only occasionally, until a sabbatical leave (spent in Cambridge and Liège) granted by the Université Laval (in winters of 2017 and 2018) allowed me to write a nearly first full version of the text. I would like to thank the Humboldt-Stiftung, the Université Laval and all those who encouraged me to start and complete this research, especially George Boys-Stones, who has been, as always, extremely supportive. I also want to thank Victor Thibaudeau, the former dean of the philosophy faculty at the Université Laval, who made it possible for me to adapt my teaching schedule so that I could carry out my research in Europe when I received the Humboldt fellowship. I would also like to thank those kind souls who undertook the imposing task of revising my English, in particular Simon Fortier, Timothy Riggs and Donald Landes. Finally, I would like to thank my friend Marc-Antoine Gavray, who has always made me feel welcome at the Département de philosophie of the Université de Liège and made my research stays there very enjoyable.

Introduction

The Stoic doctrine of providence (πρόνοια) has been largely overlooked by modern scholarship.1 What is behind this neglect? At least two reasons suggest themselves. The first is that providence seems to have been largely eclipsed in the modern scholarly debate by its sister concept, fate. The Stoics held that providence and fate are two different names of god,2 and this may have given the false impression that there is little or no difference between them. Because of the perennial questions that it cannot fail to raise (such as those relating to determinism and human responsibility, to name only the most obvious), the idea of fate has long exerted a particular fascination on the human mind and continues to do so, occupying those working in many fields, from analytical philosophy to neuroscience. Given that the Stoics maintained that ‘everything happens in accordance with fate’, a notion which has never lost its philosophical relevance, it is unsurprising that this theme continues to be an object of keen interest among specialists of the Stoa.3 The idea of providence, on the other hand, – and I turn now to the second reason – is, at least for the contemporary mind, far less obviously a philosophical question than fate. Rather, providence’s historical association with theology and religion may suggest that its study should be left to scholars specializing in the history of religion.

1 Why study Stoic providence? It is not my intention here to mount a fully fledged defence of the question of providence and its philosophical relevance. Still, I think it would not be out of place to begin by providing a general survey of its importance for the Stoics and, therefore, the need to study it in order to get a better understanding of Stoicism. The Stoa, as is well known, divided philosophy into three parts4: logic, physics and ethics. In whichever one we look, we find the question of providence. Let us start with the most obvious part: physics, to which theology belongs, according to the Stoics (more on this later). As we shall see in what follows, it is in this area that the first Stoic thoughts on divine providence, it seems, were born. One particular subject on which the Stoics focused was DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678

2 Introduction fire, the form that god (the active principle) takes when it is mixed with primordial matter (the passive principle). From the beginning, the idea of a providential god (which we may take to mean, at this stage, simply good and beneficial) led Zeno of Citium (the founder of the Stoa), and then his successors, to defend the existence of a kind of fire that is by nature constructive rather than destructive. According to him, this type of fire – which he calls ‘craftsmanlike’ – is what eventually explains the perfection of the world and its (relative) sustainability. However, we will see that the hypothesis of a craftsmanlike fire raises serious issues of doctrinal consistency. Indeed, a difficulty posed by the Stoic explanation of the generation and preservation of the world by means of the action of a beneficial fire is that this fire does not, in spite of everything, prevent the conflagration – and thus also the destruction – of the world. Worse, it may even be argued that this fire is actually responsible for said conflagration (albeit indirectly and unintentionally), since any fire requires some kind of fuel, and this is what ultimately leads the world to its destruction. In this book, we will see how this difficulty led different Stoics to different solutions, some (Chrysippus in particular) arguing that the destruction of the world does not imply its death, others (Panaetius and his supporters) simply abandoning the doctrine of the destructibility of the world. Let us now move to the logical part of philosophy, the part that deals with the study of logos (understood as reason and discourse).5 Logic occupies a special place in the tripartition of philosophy. While physics is akin to the study of ‘divine matters’ and ethics to that of ‘human affairs’ (the two specific domains of wisdom, for a Stoic),6 logic, for its part, forms the link between the human and the divine. From a Stoic point of view, this link can be explained by the fact that reason is what gods and human beings share, a sharing which is itself a product of divine providence. Indeed, the existence of reason in human beings – a faculty considered to be superior and naturally beneficial – is interpreted by the Stoics as a divine gift, the human soul (or rather its directing part, the ἡγεμονικόν) being a detached part (ἀπόσπασμα) of god.7 So, it is divine philanthropy (to which we will return a little later) – the love of god for human beings – that explains the presence of reason in humans. Reason includes remarkable epistemological characteristics which make it advantageous to human beings in their quest for knowledge of both nature and the happy life (the two being intrinsically linked). One can isolate two of these characteristics, both of which show how reason differs from sense-perception. The first is that reason accurately grasps its object, which allows it to constitute an objective measure of things. This is an argument put forward in particular by Posidonius, in his critique of Epicurus (who defended the view that all sense impressions are true).8 Reason thus enables us to study (and measure) the cosmos and to understand how it is organized and governed. The second characteristic relates to the fact that reason is

Introduction  3 a faculty of foreseeing and anticipation (a point defended in particular by Panaetius).9 Unlike sense-perception, reason is not limited to (and by) the present and comprehends all three temporal dimensions, allowing human beings to anticipate the consequences of their actions and to plot out how they shall achieve a happy life. This life, which Zeno presented as a ‘smooth flow’ (εὔροια),10 is a life freed of any external obstacles. We come, finally, to ethics. The importance of providence in this part of philosophy is considerable, and here again I will limit myself to highlighting only certain aspects of it, amongst the most important. The Stoics maintain that the possession of reason is what explains the social and political nature of human beings.11 As we have just seen, reason is both a gift from god and what is most advantageous for humans. It is therefore not difficult to see the link that the Stoics make between providence, human society and the political administration of this society. The recognition by a human being that he or she is a child of god (a detached part of the cosmic soul) necessarily entails a form of respect or reverence with regard to the reason which he or she possesses (insofar as it is divine, therefore superior), which, in turn, leads to love and care for all other human beings, recognized as members of one, unique family. Such care is made manifest in two major Stoic theses. The first is that which holds that the starting point for the formation of human communities lies in the love of parents for their children (φιλοστοργία). Parental love, which the Stoics take to be natural (unlike the Epicureans), is interpreted as the product of divine deliberation: the granting to parents a strong affection for their children is part of a divine plan to foster the generation of communities, without which human beings could not fulfil the demands of their social nature. The second thesis is concerned with the clemency which the princeps must show towards the people placed under his authority and protection. This is a thesis developed by Seneca in his On Clemency, but we will see that a version of it can also be found in the writings of Marcus Aurelius.12 The clemency of the princeps (or his ‘goodness’ in Marcus Aurelius) is the form which divine philanthropy takes when it is expressed in the administration of human societies. It represents a rational form of care which respects humans as humans, i.e. as rational and free. The princeps is like a viceroy, representative of god on earth, and the care he has for the people is ultimately modelled on god’s love for humans.

2 Was Stoicism a philosophy or a religion? The philosophical importance of the idea of providence in the Stoa is clear. Still, one might wonder whether Stoic philosophy does not depend entirely on theology. Is it not true that, if human beings have been endowed with reason, and if, thanks to reason, they are able to lead a happy life, devoid of any form of impediment, that is because god is provident and that, in his

4 Introduction providence, he granted humans with reason? Should we not therefore think that it is the Stoics’ conception of god that explains their philosophy (and in particular the importance they give to reason) and that, in the end, Stoicism is more a theology – some might even speak of a religion (see below) – than a philosophy? One might perhaps reply that the question is badly put as it supposes a strong and clear opposition between philosophy and theology, which is foreign to Stoicism and, in general, to most of the ancient philosophical schools of thought. This objection, however, does not solve the issue: if the Stoics did not see an opposition between philosophy and theology, is it not precisely because their philosophy is a theology? Such a position, even if it is not defended by the specialists of the Stoa,13 is not foreign to the academic world. In a lecture titled The Stoic Philosophy, given in 1915, Gilbert Murray – a scholar of ancient Greek literature who also wrote on Greek religion – claimed that ‘Stoicism may be called either a philosophy or a religion’,14 and that ‘Stoicism, like Christianity, was primarily a religion for the oppressed, a religion of defense and defiance’.15 A century later, Francesc Casadesús, in an article that studies the appropriation of the language of mystery cults in ancient philosophy, writes that ‘The Stoics (…) went a step beyond earlier philosophers by conceiving of their own philosophy as a form of religio in which they performed the fundamental role of interpreters of the divine will’.16 He concludes his study by writing that ‘the novelty in the case of Stoic philosophers was that they became priests who transformed their philosophy into theology’.17 The author bases his interpretation on a series of Stoic texts, most of them well known, and I think it is useful to show here why we must reject his conclusions. This will also be an opportunity to introduce ourselves to some important texts relating to the Stoic account of sagehood and the place of theology within Stoic philosophy. One can identify at least two main sets of texts in the study of Casadesús: the first includes fragments relating to the Stoic conception of the sage (σοφός), and the second includes texts testifying to a Stoic use of the vocabulary employed in mystery cults. Let us start with the first group, and the text cited first by the author (to which I add the translation of the sentences that directly precede and follow it): T1 [The Greeks used some doctrines called ‘paradoxes’ that, based on proofs or apparent proofs, attribute a great variety of things (πλεῖστα) to the one who, according to them, is a sage (τῷ κατ’ αὐτοὺς σοφῷ).] They say that only the sage – and every sage – is a priest (ἱερέα), because only the sage – and every sage – has the knowledge of the worship of god (καθ’ ἅ φασι μόνον καὶ πάντα τὸν σοφὸν εἶναι ἱερέα, τῷ μόνον καὶ πάντα τὸν σοφὸν ἐπιστήμην ἔχειν τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ θεραπείας); [that only the sage – and every sage – is free, etc.] (Origen, Comm. in Io. 2.16.112 = SVF 3.544)

Introduction  5 Casadesús’ commentary on this first passage illustrates his general position well: T2 Stoic philosophers postulated the existence of an almighty god that eternally governs the destiny of the entire universe with his intellect. Given the ignorance of the common man, who is oblivious of the divine structure of the cosmos, the Stoics felt compelled to teach it to their contemporaries. Hence, they presented themselves as the only specialists in divine issues, as opposed to the mass of men who were ignorant of such knowledge. (Casadesús 2016: 20) Casadesús’ error is twofold. First, he attributes to the Stoics the characteristics that they attribute to the sage, apparently ignoring that the Stoics never considered themselves wise18 and that the sage, as described by the Stoa, is well-known for his rarity.19 Second, the Stoic doctrine of the sage is not limited – far from it actually – to the attribution of priesthood to the sage: as the context of T1 indicates, the Stoics ascribed to the sage a great number (πλεῖστα) of skills and perfections, claiming that only the wise person is free,20 only he is a citizen,21 only he is king,22 only he is a magistrate, a judge and an orator, and so forth.23 It is therefore, at the very least, misleading to dwell on only one competence – priesthood – since it gives the false impression that the Stoics gave it special importance and sought to emphasize the exceptional religiosity of the sage. Let us now move on to the second group of texts cited by Casadesús. They relate to the use of the vocabulary employed in mystery cults. I shall focus on two of those texts, and add a third parallel one: T3 First of all, in my opinion, which corresponds to the correct statements by the ancients, there are three kinds of philosopher’s theorems, logical, ethical and physical. Secondly, what should be ranked first of these are the logical, next the ethical, and third the physical; and what should come last (ἔσχατος) in the physical theorems is the doctrine on the gods (ὁ περὶ τῶν θεῶν λόγος). Hence its transmission (τὰς τούτου παραδόσεις) has been called ‘initiation’ (τελετὰς ἠγόρευσαν). (Chrysippus, On Lives, book iv, apud Plut. St. rep. 9.1035A = SVF 2.42 and 26C L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) T4 Chrysippus says that the doctrines on divine things (τοὺς περὶ θείων λόγους) are rightly called ‘initiations’ (εἰκότως καλεῖσθαι τελετάς): for these should be the last things (τελευταίους) to be taught, when the soul has found its stability and has become in control, and is capable of keeping silent towards the uninitiated. For it is a great reward to hear

6 Introduction the correct things about the gods and to gain control (μέγα γὰρ εἶναι τὸ ἆθλον ὑπὲρ θεῶν ἀκοῦσαί τε ὀρθὰ καὶ ἐγκρατεῖς γενέσθαι αὐτῶν). (Etymologicum magnum 751.16–22 s.v. τελετή = SVF 2.1008, trans. Brouwer 2014) T5 The Stoics, too, say that logical matters lead, that ethical matters take second place, and that physical matters come last in order (τελευταῖα δὲ τετάχθαι τὰ φυσικά). For they hold that the intellect must first be fortified, with a view to making its guard of what is transmitted hard to shake off (εἰς δυσέκκρουστον τῶν παραδιδομένων φυλακήν), and that the area of dialectic tends to strengthen one’s thinking (ὀχυρωτικὸν δὲ εἶναι τῆς διανοίας); that, second, one must add ethical reflection with a view to the improvement of character traits (πρὸς βελτίωσιν τῶν ἠθῶν), for the acquisition of this on top of the already present logical ability holds no danger; and that one must bring in physical reflection last (τελευταίαν), for it is more divine and needs deeper attention (θειοτέρα γάρ ἐστι καὶ βαθυτέρας δεῖται τῆς ἐπιστάσεως). (S.E. M 7.22–23 = SVF 2.44, trans. Bett) We have here three excerpts, from different sources, apparently reporting the same Stoic doctrine. The three texts inform us of the position adopted by Chrysippus concerning the order in which the three parts of philosophy, and one of their subsections, should be taught. In his book On Lives, Chrysippus argued that logical theorems must be taught first, then the ethical ones and only then the physical theorems, and that within physics one must leave the teaching of theology for the very end. In the second and third texts quoted, it is explained that a correct understanding of theology takes a great deal of preparation and effort on the part of the student, and that is why it should be reserved for the end.24 There is, however, a difference between those texts as the first two include a reference to the vocabulary in use in the mystery cults, a reference that is not found in Sextus Empiricus’ passage. So, let us have a closer look at them. What exactly is Chrysippus trying to do here? Both texts state that the transmission (παράδοσις) of the doctrines on divine matters has been ‘called’ (ἠγόρευσαν, καλεῖσθαι), rightly so, ‘initiations’ (τελεταί). Now, it is important here to understand that when Chrysippus talks of ‘doctrines on divine things’, in this particular context, he cannot be talking about Stoic theology per se, at least not initially. He is simply saying that the Greeks were right to call the teachings of theological matters ‘τελεταί’, as they do in the context of the rites performed in mystery cults. And it is in order to show the appropriateness of that word that he is resorting to the way the Stoics teach philosophy (the account of which is presented, in its naked, unreligious form, in our T5): they start with logic, then continue with ethics and only then, at the end, do they teach physics and theology. The reason for

Introduction  7 this, as explained earlier, is that theology requires ‘deeper attention’ and the strengthening of the logical and ethical aptitudes of the student. Finally, T4 shows that Chrysippus relied on the Stoic practice of etymology25 in order to show the aptness of the word ‘τελετή’, a word that is close to ‘τελευτή’ (‘completion’, ‘end’), and so also to its adjectival form ‘τελευταῖος’ (found in both T4 and T5), which means final, occurring at the last stage. In a nutshell, Chrysippus thought that the Greeks were right to call the transmission of theological doctrines ‘τελετή’ (‘initiation’), a word that etymologically means (in his view) ‘final’, and he showed the appropriateness of this word by referring to the Stoic practice of teaching theology last. Now, if Chrysippus thought that τελετή was a well-chosen word to refer to the teaching of theological matters generally conceived, he must have had no problem using it also to refer to the teaching of Stoic theology.26 But it is important to understand that the aptness of this word has first been philosophically vetted: Chrysippus is not blindly adopting religious terminology but rather philosophically appropriating it, and he is certainly not transforming philosophy into religio when he says that the transmission of theology, coming last, can be called an ‘initiation’. Besides, Chrysippus was not the first philosopher to make use of the religious vocabulary of the mystery cults in a philosophical context. Casadesús is well aware of these precedents and devotes a large part of his study to well-known texts of Plato, found in the Phaedrus, the Symposium and other dialogues,27 where one can already observe this type of philosophical appropriation. However, he refuses to say of Plato that he conceived of his philosophy as a form of religio or that he transformed it into a theology, while he supports this interpretation in the case of Stoicism. The reason for that, as already pointed out, is the confusion Casadesús makes between being wise and being a Stoic, a confusion that leads him to think that the Stoics looked at themselves literally as priests (T2). But this is not his only mistake. The texts we have just examined inform us only partially about the true position of Chrysippus, a point that Casadesús fails to recall. Our T3 passage is taken from a work by Plutarch called On Stoic Self-Contradictions, in which the author seeks to prove the inconsistency of the Stoics by opposing quotations or doctrines deemed to be contradictory and incompatible. When it comes to Chrysippus’ account of the order in which the three parts of philosophy should be taught, Plutarch opposes our T3 to the doctrine, also supported by Chrysippus, that one should study physics before ethics: T6 Again in his Physical Postulates he [Chrysippus] says, ‘There is no other or more appropriate way of approaching the theory of good and bad things or the virtues or happiness than from universal nature and from the administration of the world (ἀλλ’ ἀπὸ τῆς κοινῆς φύσεως καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς τοῦ κόσμου διοικήσεως).’ And later: ‘For the theory of good and bad things must be attached to these, since there is no other

8 Introduction starting  point or reference for them that is better (οὐκ οὔσης ἄλλης ἀρχῆς αὐτῶν ἀμείνονος οὐδ’ ἀναφορᾶς), and physical speculation is to be adopted for no other purpose than for the differentiation of good and bad things.’ (Plut. St. rep. 9.1035C-D = SVF 3.68 and 60A L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) So, in his Physical Postulates, Chrysippus upheld the view that the study of physics must precede that of ethics because physics is the starting point for the study of ethics and has no other end than the distinction between what is good and bad. Plutarch’s testimony and his quotations from Chrysippus show us that the latter’s position was far more complex and nuanced than T3 suggests, a point that specialists of the Stoa have long noted. In his studies, Pierre Hadot clearly highlighted the ‘didactic and pedagogical’ perspective of all these passages.28 According to him, when Chrysippus defends the anteriority of physics over ethics, he has in view a logical and theoretical type of anteriority, a notional order that reflects the systematicity of the Stoic doctrines: ‘physics must precede ethics to give it its reasons’.29 On the other hand, when Chrysippus defends the anteriority of ethics over physics, it is a psychological form of anteriority, which takes into account the state of the student’s soul and his moral progress. This is indeed what T4 and T5 clearly indicate by explaining that the soul must first have been strengthened by the study of logic, and then by that of ethics, in order to be able to fully understand the teachings on divine things included in physics. In addition to Pierre Hadot’s interpretation, one can also point to a further difference between the two perspectives adopted by Chrysippus. In our sources, several passages suggest that when he defends the anteriority of physics over ethics, he has in mind a virtually divine form of teaching. It is here important to understand that, before being an object of study, nature is, for a Stoic, the moral educator of human beings. In principle, any human can achieve happiness if he or she listens to nature, and in particular to the human nature that he or she possesses.30 This is well shown in the following two passages, which again relate the words of Chrysippus: T7 He [Chrysippus] says: ‘What am I to begin from (Πόθεν οὖν … ἄρξωμαι), and what am I to take as the foundation of the appropriate action (τοῦ καθήκοντος ἀρχήν) and the material of virtue if I pass over nature and what accords with nature (τὴν φύσιν καὶ τὸ κατὰ φύσιν)?’ (Plut. Com. not. 23.1069E = SVF 3.491 and 59A L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) T8 [Chrysippus:] As long as the future is uncertain to me, I always hold to those things which are better adapted to obtaining the things in accordance with nature (τῶν κατὰ φύσιν); for god himself has made me

Introduction  9 disposed to select these (αὐτὸς γάρ μ’ ὁ θεὸς ἐποίησεν τούτων ἐκλεκτικόν). But if I actually knew that I was fated now to be ill, I would even have an impulse to be ill. For my foot too, if it had intelligence, would have an impulse to get muddy. (Chrysippus apud Epict. D. 2.6.9 = SVF 3.191 and 58J L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) The Stoics maintain that one can come to act rightly (virtuously) through the performance of actions appropriate to our nature, which they call καθήκοντα. Now, as the quotations from Chrysippus indicate, nature itself teaches us to act appropriately by means of impulses which direct us towards acquiring things which are in accordance with our nature (what the Stoics call ‘preferable indifferents’), and which make us reject those which are contrary to our nature (the ‘dispreferred indifferents’). As T8 indicates, it is god who gave human beings those impulses which, if no external obstacle gets in their way,31 will naturally lead humans to a happy life, a life that is in accordance with nature. This accord or harmony implies that human beings recognize themselves as parts of the cosmos (rather than as separate and independent substances). This is the meaning of the analogy with the foot in T8: just as a foot must act for the good of the body of which it is a part, so humans must strive after the good of the whole to which they belong.32 However, to come to that understanding, humans have to study physics and, in particular, the cosmos. For the Stoics looked at the cosmos as a city and considered gods and human beings as its citizens. This is why, in the final analysis, the study of physics must precede that of ethics: in order to live a happy life, human beings must study the cosmos, become aware of its political administration and discover the role of citizen that they play within the cosmic city. It should be noted that it is exactly what Chrysippus says in the quote reported by Plutarch in T6: ‘There is no other or more appropriate way of approaching the theory of good and bad things or the virtues or happiness than from universal nature and from the administration of the world’. Contrary to what T3 suggests – at least when it is read without contextualizing it – theology is not an end in itself for the Stoa. The study of physics – and the knowledge of the world and of god that it implies – is actually a necessary means to attain the knowledge of good and evil and to become virtuous. Still, it would not be fair to take ethics for the highest and most important part of philosophy, since the Stoics seem to have refused to organize the three parts of philosophy into a strict hierarchy.33 Rather,34 they upheld that each part of philosophy corresponds to a virtue,35 and also that virtues, in the sage, are inter-entailing (ἀντακολουθεῖν) and thus not separable.36 In Stoicism, philosophy does not depend on (nor identify with) theology, and the Stoics were not priests claiming to initiate their followers into mysteries. Like in all of the other philosophical schools in antiquity, the concept of god plays a pivotal role in Stoicism. Still, it is important to understand

10 Introduction that this concept was itself fundamentally informed by the philosophy of the Stoa.37 A quick comparison between Stoicism and Epicureanism will help us better understand the cause and effect relationship that exists between philosophy and theology. A study of David Sedley has shown how,38 for Epicurus, the notion of god is a naturally produced mental construction that is shaped through the desire for perfection at work in the human nature. It is therefore not surprising to observe that the Epicurean god embodies the fulfilment of the hedonistic telos that the Epicureans defended: the common notion of god, they say, contains only two features39 – being blessed and imperishable – and it excludes being provident on the grounds that any form of intervention or political action on the part of god would imply disturbances, and would therefore clash with god’s blessedness.40 The Stoics, for their part, maintained that the notion of god includes providence.41 This is understandable given that the idea of god embodies in Stoicism – again, like in Epicureanism and other major philosophical school of the time – an ideal of philosophical perfection,42 an ideal which therefore closely echoes the way in which the Stoics conceived the human nature and what is good. In the Stoa, the happy life depends entirely on the possession of reason, and, as we have seen, reason is a naturally beneficial and provident faculty. The god of the Stoics, himself identified with reason, must therefore be conceived as naturally provident too.

3 Stoic providence in context In our ancient sources, it is sometimes recalled – often as a means of diminishing its achievements – that the Stoa is a relatively ‘young’ philosophical school, that is to say, that it came after, and thus depends upon, the founding fathers of philosophy that were Plato and Aristotle.43 The polemical intention of such a presentation of the Stoa notwithstanding, it is indeed important to remember that Stoicism did not emerge from nothing and that its conception of providence owes not a little to some of its predecessors, Plato in particular.44 Within the Stoa, however, Plato was a controversial figure, and it took several generations before Stoics could openly profess their admiration for his philosophy, as was the case for Panaetius of Rhodes and his pupil, Posidonius of Apamea.45 The Stoics saw themselves, above all, as Socratics and agreed with Plato when they believed he was reporting Socrates’ thought. That does not mean that they deliberately limited themselves to what specialists today see as Plato’s earliest productions – the so-called Socratic dialogues – for they, from the start, acknowledged the importance of the Timaeus, a later work of Plato. After Socrates’ death, various branches of Socraticism emerged, some attributing to Socrates an interest in ethics only,46 others claiming he was equally interested in physics. Plato himself appears to have drawn a line between what, in his view, was Socrates’ genuine field

Introduction  11 of interest (ethics broadly construed, that is to say, politics)47 and what Socrates eventually refused to get involved into, namely physics, not because he was opposed to the study of the subject, but because, apparently, he found out that he was not able to understand it by himself or with the help of others.48 This left Plato with the freedom to engage in the study of nature in a way that was Socratically acceptable, as shown by the fact that Timaeus’ account of the creation of the world by a divine and providential49 demiurge is presented, in the Timaeus, as a gift (a ‘feast’) to Socrates.50 Therefore, it was not difficult for the Stoics, who themselves saw physics as an integral part of philosophy, to look at Plato’s Timaeus as Socratically acceptable too, although they, of course, interpreted it in their own way (which did not include Platonic Forms, among other things). In many ways, the Stoics were drawn to physics for the same reasons as those mentioned by Socrates in Plato’s Phaedo. Here is what he says there about Anaxagoras’ cosmic intelligence or νοῦς: T9 ‘One day I heard somebody reading from what he said was a book by Anaxagoras, and saying that it turns out to be intelligence that both orders things and is cause of everything (ὡς ἄρα νοῦς ἐστιν ὁ διακοσμῶν τε καὶ πάντων αἴτιος). I was pleased with this cause, and it struck me that in a way it is good that intelligence should be cause of everything, and I supposed that, if this is the case, when intelligence is doing the ordering it orders everything and assigns each thing in whatever way is best (πάντα κοσμεῖν καὶ ἕκαστον τιθέναι ταύτῃ ὅπῃ ἂν βέλτιστα ἔχῃ). So, I thought, should someone want to discover the cause of how each thing comes to be, perishes, or is, this is what he must find out about it: how it is best for it (ὅπῃ βέλτιστον αὐτῷ) either to be, or to act or be acted upon in any other respect whatsoever. What is more, on this theory a human being should consider nothing other than what is optimal or best (τὸ ἄριστον καὶ τὸ βέλτιστον), concerning both that thing itself and everything else. The same person is bound to know the worse (τὸ χεῖρον εἰδέναι) too, for it is the same knowledge that concerns them both.’ (Pl. Phd. 97b-d, trans. Long) Socrates sees intelligence as naturally and intrinsically connected to what is best (hence to goodness). If intelligence is the cause of everything, as Anaxagoras seemed to argue, then everything must be said to be ordered in the best possible way: each thing in the cosmos is in the state it is in because it is the best state for that thing and for the cosmos as a whole. The study of nature, therefore, is not separable from the study of what is good and bad, and it is not difficult to see that it is for that reason that Plato’s Socrates initially took an interest in it. As we know, the Stoics held too that intelligence or reason is intrinsically good and, recognizing the perfect order of the world, they then defended the view that only a divine and provident intelligence could account for it.

12 Introduction In many ways – and there will be other occasions to underscore this point in what follows – the Stoics had a conception of providence that was very close to Plato’s, so much so that their doctrines have sometimes been confused with one another, even by ancient philosophers. But there were differences too, as we will see. Besides, the long and rich history of the Stoa enabled it to regularly revisit and revivify that subject and eventually to provide a unique perspective on it, as I hope to show in this book. *** Before concluding this introduction, I shall offer a presentation of some of the points discussed in the chapters that compose this book. This may help the reader in getting a unifying view of its content. Chapter 1 focuses on the doctrine of providence in Zeno of Citium, founding father of the Stoa. It examines several aspects of his account: that providence is one of the names of god, that nature should be conceived as a craftsmanlike fire (one that is maintaining life rather than destroying it) and that providence can be proved by divination. It also looks into one ancient account that ascribes to Zeno the thought that god cares for everything, including the slightest of things, and shows that it was probably not a view he in fact defended. Chapter 2 looks into Cleanthes’ doctrine of providence. Like Zeno, Cleanthes put forward the view of a divine mind governing the world. Alongside it, he appears to have attacked the mechanistic, chance-based account of the world defended by Democritus. His account of the world shows how vital for the preservation of the cosmos the sun and the earth are. But it also raises the question of the compatibility of the eventual cosmic conflagration with divine providence. Cleanthes disagreed with Zeno on the question of theodicy, arguing that providence does not account for everything that happens according to fate, since that would make god responsible for the existence of evils. The chapter ends with an examination of Cleanthes’ doctrine of human nature and the ‘starting points towards virtue’ it has been granted by god. Chapter 3 is an attempt at reconstructing the general outline and partial content of Chrysippus’ treatise On Providence. Using most of the extant fragments about that text, it focuses on two books in particular. In book I, after having defended the view that the world is a rational and intelligent animal, Chrysippus then tackles the difficult question of the preservation of the world (during its conflagration) and argues that the world ‘shall not die’. As for book IV, it is concerned with the important question of theodicy and the compatibility between good and evil in the world. Chrysippus’ On Providence appears also to have touched on the compatibility between fate (understood in the popular sense of external misfortunes falling upon helpless people) and moral responsibility and showed that god provided human beings with a nature that helps them avoid the effects of external misfortunes.

Introduction  13 Chapter 4 focuses on Panaetius of Rhodes’ doctrine of providence. After investigating what may have been included in his own On Providence, it examines the particular stance Panaetius took on some related issues: the destructibility of the world, which he denied, the existence of divination, which he doubted, and astrology, which he also rejected. After looking into Panaetius’ definition of the human telos, presented as ‘living in accordance with the starting  points towards virtue bestowed upon us by nature’ (or god), the chapter ends with an examination of the importance of reason in humans and how, according to Panaetius, reason serves as god’s instrument for human beings to achieve their telos through the formation of political communities. Chapter 5 examines Posidonius’ doctrine of providence through an analysis of his promotion of reason, presented as an inner dwelling god whose role is to lead human beings towards happiness. The importance of reason is apparent in Posidonius’ definition of the telos, his epistemology and in his criticism of Epicureanism (which neglects, in his view, the use of reason in both physics and ethics). The last part of the chapter looks into the importance Posidonius gives to reason in his depiction of the condition of the first human beings, and shows the decisive role reason plays in the formation of early political societies (governed by philosophers). Chapter 6 focuses on Seneca and starts with his presentation of providence as the deliberation of god and the provision he made for the world to ‘freely advance and unfold’. The idea of a smooth, unhindered flow of life was already how Zeno characterized happiness, which requires the possession of reason and wisdom. His account explains how human nature is part of a larger divine plan for the world and the humankind to both reach their telos: curiosity (impulse towards knowledge) has been instilled in the human nature by god so that human beings can eventually become the spectators of his work. Like Panaetius before him, Seneca emphasized the political dimension of contemplation, which explains why, even when there are major obstacles preventing a philosopher from entering into politics, he can still fulfil the demands of his human nature by living a life of ‘studious leisure’ or otium. The chapter ends with a study of how Seneca uses divine providence as a model of political leadership in his On Clemency. Chapter 7 looks into Epictetus’ account of providence, in particular his enquiry into the reasons why some human beings either fail to acknowledge the existence of divine providence or, when they do, still remain ungrateful. This has led Epictetus to a fascinating study of the root cause of evil, that is, what the Stoics refer to as the perversion (diastrophê) of human nature. Lack of self-respect is ultimately what leads human beings to blame god for what they see as unjust misfortunes. Hence Epictetus’ emphasis on the need for humans to understand their divine kinship. Only then will they be able to benefit from the gift of reason, which will help them overcome any external misfortunes. The last part of the chapter shows how philostorgia (parental love for children) is understood by Epictetus as being a means for

14

Introduction

god to foster the generation of human societies and thus fulfil the demands of human nature. Chapter 8 focuses on Marcus Aurelius’ account of providence: his defence of the perfection of the world and of the compatibility between good and evil; how god has given humans both the power not to fall into evil and the right to self-correct; and what light the Stoic doctrine of the principles can shed on providence. The chapter ends with a study of god’s benevolence towards human beings (in particular those that are bad and ungrateful) and how this is used as a model of perfect political leadership by Marcus. The two final chapters give an in-depth account of some important themes that have appeared in the rest of the book, in particular οἰκείωσις and personal providence. Chapter 9 explores the link between divine providence and the impulse towards self-preservation that is present in animals and human beings at birth. It shows that oikeiôsis or familiarization with oneself is part of an elaborate plan by god to ensure the preservation of the particular natures that are parts of the world. The chapter provides an analysis of Stoic oikeiôsis and explains what roles it plays in self-preservation. Chapter 10 looks into the Stoic doctrine of personal providence (according to which god cares not only for human beings conceived generally but also for individuals) and how it is ultimately based on god’s care for the world (which is god’s primary concern), that is to say, for himself (given the Stoic identification of the world to god). It shows that it is because the world is conceived by the Stoics as an animal (with impulses directed towards self-preservation) that divine providence for the world naturally leads to a concern for human beings (which are, by their souls, detached parts of god). *** Throughout this book, my focus has been to present the issues related to the Stoic doctrine of providence in a thorough yet accessible manner. I consider it very important for the readers to have access to ancient texts so that they might make their own minds about them. All the major passages quoted are therefore numbered in a way that makes it easy to recall them over the course of the book. In general, I have relied on previously existing English translations and adapted or corrected them only when necessary.

Notes 1 One noteworthy exception is the work of Myrto Dragona-Monachou. See especially Dragona-Monachou 1973, 1976 and 1994. On the other hand, studies on Stoic theology, broadly conceived, are not lacking: Sedley 2002, Algra 2003 and 2007, Thom 2005, Meijer 2007, Salles 2009a and Boys-Stones 2018a. See also the important book by Pià Comella 2014, although it focuses more on religion than theology per se. 2 See especially Stob. Ecl. 1.78.18–20 = SVF 1.176.1 (quoted in T1-1).

Introduction

15

3 The list of publications on fate and determinism in the Stoa is too long to be given here. Suffice to recall the now classic study on Bobzien 1998, as well as Gourinat 2005a, Sauvé Meyer 2009, Koch 2011, Mikeš 2016 and O’Keefe 2017. 4 See D.L. 7.39, and other fragments quoted in Long and Sedley 1987, Chapter 26. 5 See texts quoted in Long and Sedley 1987, Chapter 31. 6 See Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 1.874E = SVF 2.35 and 26A L.-S, and Ps.-Galen, On the History of Philosophy, 5, 602.19–3.2 Diels (quoted in T4-16 and T4-17). 7 Epict. D. 2.8.11. 8 See below, Chapter 5, sections 2 and 4. 9 See Cic. Off. 1.11 (quoted in T4-13b). 10 Stob. Ecl. 2.77.21. 11 See below, Chapter 4, section 6. 12 See below, Chapter 6, section 4.2, and Chapter 8, sections 4.2–4.3. 13 There is, however, a tendency, among some scholars, to suspect a shift towards an ever-greater religiosity in the thought of later Roman Stoics. For such a view in relation to Marcus Aurelius, see Pià Comella 2014: 470–475. For a fair-minded assessment of Epictetus’ ‘religious sympathies’, see Long 2002: 180–206. 14 Murray 1915: 14. 15 Murray 1915: 16–17. 16 Casadesús 2016: 22. 17 Casadesús 2016: 24. 18 The issue has been thoroughly studied by Brouwer (2014: 92–135), who concludes, convincingly, that none of the Stoics considered themselves sages. 19 In our ancient sources, the Stoic sage is presented as ‘rarer than the Ethiopians’ phoenix’ (Alex. Fat. 199.18 = SVF 3.658). See again Brouwer 2014: 106–112. 20 In addition to T1, see D.L. 7.121 = SVF 3.355 and 67M L.-S., Cic. Parad. 5.33–41, and Phil. Probus. 21 D.L. 7.33. 22 D.L. 7.122 (quoted in T5-19b). 23 D.L. 7.122. 24 I am not convinced by Brouwer’s interpretation of T4 (in Brouwer 2014: 87), namely, that learning the doctrines on divine things is simply what makes the sage become aware of being a sage (i.e. of possessing wisdom). If true, that would render learning theology insignificant (especially so since, according to Brouwer himself, what makes a sage is the possession of wisdom, not the awareness of it). Chrysippus’ main point, in my view, is that learning theology is a difficult task that requires preparation (this is confirmed by T5). It demands some level of stability and strength acquired through learning logic and ethics, but, as the last sentence shows, full strength and control are only ‘gained’ (γενέσθαι) through theology, which makes the study of this discipline so rewarding. 25 Our T4 is the first example of Stoic etymology among those collected by Karlheinz Hülser in his FDS. Still, it seems to me that the full significance of that fact is in general not adequately acknowledged in the interpretation of that passage. For the importance of etymology in Stoicism, see in particular Allen 2005. See also Most 2016. 26 Cleanthes, the former teacher of Chrysippus and his predecessor as head of the Stoa, is reported to have said that ‘those who are possessed by the gods are initiates’ (τοὺς κατόχους τῶν θείων τελεστὰς ἔλεγε). See Epiphanius, Fid. 9.41 = SVF 1.538. This suggests that Cleanthes employed the vocabulary of mystery cults in relation to the sage. For sages as divine beings, see D.L. 7.119 = SVF 3.606 (‘They are also godlike: for they have god in themselves, as it were’), and Brouwer 2014: 62–67. 27 Casadesús 2016: 20.

16 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Introduction See Hadot 1979: 213, and Hadot 1991: 210. Hadot 1991: 211. On this topic, see below, Chapter 2, section 5.2, and Chapter 4, section 5. Those external obstacles are thought to be the source of the perversion (διαστροφή) of the human nature. On this topic, see Chapter 3, section 3.2, and Chapter 7, section 1.2. On this, see commentary on T6-29 and T6-30. This is stated of some Stoics at least (in D.L. 7.40 = SVF 2.41 and 26B4 L.-S.), and Chrysippus may have been one of them. See Hadot 1991: 213. The point is made by Hadot 1991: 208–209. See Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 1.874E = Aëtius, Placita 1.Proœmium.2, p. 131 M.-R, SVF 2.35 and 26A L.-S (quoted in T4-16). See Plut. St. rep. 27.1046E = SVF 3.299 and 61F L.-S., Stob. Ecl. 2.63.6–24 = SVF 3.280 and 61D L.-S., and Cic. Off. 1.15 = 59P L.-S. On this, see Delcomminette 2019: 162–166. See Sedley 2011. Epic. Ep. Men. 123 = 23B1 L.-S. Epic. Ep. Hdt. 76 = 23C1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley: Among celestial phenomena movement, turning, eclipse, rising, setting and the like should not be thought to come about through the ministry and present or future arrangements of some individual who at the same time possesses the combination of total blessedness and imperishability (τὴν πᾶσαν μακαριότητα ἔχοντος μετὰ ἀφθαρσίας). For trouble, concern, anger and favour (πραγματεῖαι καὶ φροντίδες καὶ ὀργαὶ καὶ χάριτες) are incompatible with blessedness, but have their origin in weakness, fear and dependence on neighbours.

41 Plut. Com. Not. 32, 1075E = 54K L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, slightly adapted: ‘[G]od is preconceived and thought of not only as immortal and blessed but also as philanthropic, caring and beneficent (φιλάνθρωπον καὶ κηδεμονικὸν καὶ ὠφέλιμον)’. 42 The point is well made by Sylvain Delcomminette (2019: 144), who explains how the concept of god, in ancient philosophy, ‘ceased to be a concept of object, which immediately designates certain entities whose divine status is straightaway presupposed, to become an operational concept [“un concept opératoire”], that is to say a concept which crystallizes certain characteristics and requirements from which only the corresponding type of entity can be determined’. 43 The presentation of Stoicism as a younger school is part of an attempt of the Academic Antiochus of Ascalon to demonstrate the lack of philosophical originality of the Stoa. See Cicero’s Academica and De finibus, where Antiochus’ history of philosophy is presented. 44 The influence of Aristotle’s thought on the Stoic conception of providence was essentially negative. First, as that is well known, Aristotle himself never produced a doctrine of divine providence (see Koch 2019: 121–130). It took several centuries for the Peripatetic school to develop an official doctrine on the subject, the one eventually proposed by Alexander of Aphrodisias (see Koch 2019: 130–147). Secondly, we know that Zeno denied the existence of Aristotle’s fifth element (one that is found only in the perfect and divine celestial realm of the cosmos), probably because he saw it as incompatible with providence rightly conceived (one that is not limited to celestial bodies but extend down to human beings). On this last point, see below, Chapter 1, section 2.2. 45 I discuss that point below in Chapters 4 and 5.

Introduction

17

46 This is the view attributed to Socrates by Xenophon (Mem. 1.1.11–16). Later, Cicero himself will adopt that interpretation regarding Socrates’ field of interest (see Cic. Tusc. 5.10–11). 47 See especially Apol. 30a-b (where Socrates says his only business is that of convincing Athenians to take care of their soul and become virtuous) and Gorg. 521d (where Socrates says that he is one of very few people in Athens actually engaged in politics, conceived of as care of the soul). 48 See the ‘auto-biographical’ section of the Phaedo and the conclusion Socrates drew from his failed attempt at understanding physics in Phd. 99c-d. 49 Pl. Tim. 20c. 50 Pl. Tim. 30c.

1

Zeno on providence

Although no Stoic before Chrysippus would pen a treatise specifically dedicated to the subject of divine providence (see Chapter 3), a study of the extant fragments of Zeno of Citium (334/3–262/1 B.C.),1 founder of the Stoa, reveals that divine providence was, from the outset, already an important topic for the Stoics. In this chapter, we will focus on some key passages related to Zeno’s thought that shall help us get a first grasp of the Stoic notion of providence. As we are going to see, Zeno’s account of providence, although it can be only very partially reconstructed, appears to already establish some of the most distinctive features of the Stoic doctrine of providence, namely that god’s providence permeates everything that happens in the world (even what one would think is unfortunate or even bad), that it can be proved by divination and that it implies a genuine concern for human beings. A study of Zeno’s fragments also reveals that the Stoic doctrine of providence was initially established through revising or rejecting parts of Plato’s (and Aristotle’s) views on nature and the divine.

1 Providence as one of god’s names An initial fragment, found in Stobeaus’ anthology, indicates that Zeno discussed providence in a book on physics (one of the three parts of the Stoic philosophy) and that he thought that ‘providence’ was one of the various names of the ‘motive power of matter’: T1-1 Zeno the Stoic, in his On Nature (ἐν τῷ Περὶ φύσεως), calls ‘fate’ (εἱμαρμένην) the motive power of matter (δύναμιν κινητικὴν τῆς ὕλης), which in the same unchanging way (κατὰ ταὐτὰ καὶ ὡσαύτως), that it is not different from (μὴ διαφέρειν) providence and nature (πρόνοιαν καὶ φύσιν). (Stob. Ecl. 1.78.18–20 = SVF 1.176.1. See also SVF 1.176.2) That Zeno should write about providence in a book on nature is understandable, given that the Stoics held theology, which encompasses the subject of divine providence, to be a branch of physics. More intriguing, however, is DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-1

Zeno on providence 19 the idea that providence is one of the various possible names for the ‘motive power of matter’. Stoic physics recognizes the existence of two principles, one which is completely active (τὸ ποιοῦν, ‘that which acts’) and the other completely passive (τὸ πάσχον, ‘that which is acted upon’): god (or reason) and matter, respectively.2 The passivity of matter explains why it is, by itself, motionless, and why every movement in the world (i.e. everything that happens) must ultimately be explained with reference to the other principle, god, who is held to be ‘self-moving’ (αὐτοκίνητός).3 When Zeno says that providence is a name of the ‘motive power of matter’, he therefore simply means that ‘providence’ is another name for god, like ‘fate’ (εἱμαρμένη) or ‘nature’ (φύσις). Nevertheless, while providence and fate may refer to the same thing, each name carries a distinct meaning. These meanings cannot be mutually exclusive, but they may differ in some significant ways. According to an important testimony by Calcidius, which we shall examine below (T2-17), providence is god’s will (dei uoluntas) and god’s will refers to ‘a series of causes’ (series causarum), a common Stoic definition of fate. In other words, providence implies a will or intention to achieve a goal or an end (the good), whereas fate refers to the actual series of steps needed to achieve that goal. Zeno’s virtual identification of providence and fate has two important consequences. The first of these is that everything that happens according to providence also happens according to fate: there is a kind of unavoidable necessity to god’s will. Indeed, as we have seen, the other principle, matter, is completely passive, and therefore malleable and compliant. For that reason, god’s will can be carried out in a strictly ordered and rational way, without any obstacles, and this order manifests itself through the ‘unchanging way’ (κατὰ ταὐτὰ καὶ ὡσαύτως) in which matter is moved. The other consequence is that everything that happens according to fate also happens according to providence: whatever happens, even what is or is perceived to be wicked or unjust, is connected, one way or another, to god’s will. This second consequence leads to a number of serious philosophical problems, and was therefore not unanimously accepted by every member of the Stoa, as we shall see in the case of Cleanthes (in Chapter 2, section 4).

2 Providence and nature 2.1 Nature as a craftsmanlike fire Nature is another one of god’s names, and it must therefore also be closely linked with providence. This affinity between nature and providence appears in a passage from Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods. The initial part of the passage runs as follows: T1-2 Now Zeno gives this definition of nature: ‘nature is a craftsmanlike fire (ignem… artificiosum), proceeding methodically towards generation

20  Chapter 1 (ad gignendum progredientem uia)’. For he holds that the special function of an art or craft is to create and generate (creare et gignere), and that what in the processes of our arts is done by the hand is done with far more skillful craftsmanship (multo artificiosius) by nature, that is, as I said, by that ‘craftsmanlike’ fire which is the teacher of the other arts (magistrum artium reliquarum). And on this theory, every nature is ‘craftsmanlike,’ in the sense of having, as it were, a method or path to follow (quod habet uiam quandam et sectam quam sequatur). (Cic. ND 2.57 = SVF 1.172, trans. Rackham, adapted) For Zeno, there is no substantial difference between nature and art. Art’s special function is to create or generate, and to do so in a certain ordered, rational way. These two features are also found in nature, and that is why nature may be said to be ‘craftsmanlike’ (artificiosa). It too follows a method, that is, it proceeds in an orderly fashion. Moreover, nature shares with art the same productive inclination, aiming at generation rather than destruction. Although the latter aspect is not fully spelled out in our text, it is at least hinted at by the identification of nature with a ‘craftsmanlike fire’. One finds an account, attributed to Zeno, of that type of fire, in Stobaeus: T1-3 Zeno says that the sun and the moon and each of the other stars are intelligent and thoughtful (νοερὸν καὶ φρόνιμον) and have the fieriness of craftsmanlike fire (πυρὸς τεχνικοῦ). For there are two kinds of fire: one is not craftsmanlike (ἄτεχνον) and converts its food into itself (μεταβάλλον εἰς ἑαυτὸ τὴν τροφήν); the other is craftsmanlike (τεχνικόν), responsible for growth and preservation (αὐξητικόν τε καὶ τηρητικόν), as is the case in plants and animals where it is nature and soul respectively. Such is the fire which constitutes the substance of the stars. (Stob. Ecl. 1.213.17–21 = SVF 1.120 and 46D L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) As this passage makes it clear, a craftsmanlike (τεχνικόν) fire, as opposed to the fire with which we are most familiar, is a creative rather than a destructive force, yielding ‘growth and preservation’. This is important for our understanding of providence. The fiery nature of god is responsible for the creation and generation of the world, not simply in the sense that it brings it to life (by setting matter into motion), but in the sense that it keeps it alive as well. To quote Seneca, who captured that idea perfectly: ‘Nature produces her fruits, and does not reject them’ (producit fetus suos natura, non abicit).4 In other words, the specific function of providence is that of making sure that what is born shall not immediately die but manage to grow and conserve itself. This is a point that finds special emphasis in the Stoic doctrine of οἰκείωσις, which explains why, once born, an animal seeks self-preservation (see Chapter 9) and why parents have a strong affection (called φιλοστοργία) for their offspring (see Chapter 7, section 2). Since the Stoics hold that affection for one’s offspring5 is the starting point (initium)

Zeno on providence  21 6

for ‘the general sociability of the human race’, it is already not difficult to see how far-reaching the idea of providence is in the Stoa. We will return to that doctrine in various parts of this book. The nature responsible for the creation and preservation of the world is, according to Zeno, fire. Such a position would seem to place Zeno in the company of the Presocratic philosophers (especially Heraclitus), who held the world to be generated from one of the four cardinal elements (fire, air, water or earth). It also gives the impression that Stoic physics is materialistic. But such an impression is mistaken.7 We have seen that Zeno distinguishes between two principles (god and matter), and that he makes god alone the cause of everything. Besides, the craftsmanlike fire that is nature (or god) is not an element, or, if it is, it is only so in a very peculiar way.8 Rather, it is that out of which the four cardinal elements (and the things composed out of them) are generated and that into which they eventually resolve (during the ἐκπύρωσις or conflagration at the end of each cosmic cycle). In a sense, Zeno’s physics is much closer to Plato’s than to that of earlier thinkers. There remains, however, a significant difference between the two, as we shall soon see. In the Timaeus, a dialogue that we know was very influential in the Stoa,9 Plato gently mocks those (Presocratic) physiologues who call ‘στοιχεῖα’ (elements, letters) the primary bodies that are fire, air, water and earth: in reality, says Timaeus, they are not even ‘syllables’.10 What he means is that the four so-called elements are not the most elemental (‘indivisible’ or irreducible) principles of the world (κόσμος) and cannot, by themselves, explain its order (κόσμος). Indeed, they have ‘dissimilar and imbalanced powers’11 and, left to their own devices, are unable to generate one another, contrary to what is the case in the world as we know it, where, for instance, water generates air by rarefaction and air generates water by condensation. That is why, in the Timaeus, the proportionate state12 of these primary bodies, which implies commensurability, is explained by reference to a pre-cosmic Pythagorean-inspired geometrization13 of matter by a divine demiurge (symbolizing here the causality of reason or intelligence). One finds many of the same ideas in Zeno. In particular, as we have seen, he refuses to look at the first primary bodies as ‘elements’ in the sense of first principles of everything and insists that, at the origin, there are two principles, one of them only (god or reason) being the cause responsible for the generation of the world and its order.14 However, and this is of crucial importance, Zeno refused to look at god or the divine as transcendent and therefore insisted that god and his providence are always already active within matter.15 That is why, in accounts attributed to Zeno, god is presented as a fire and, sometimes, as an element: T1-4 He (Zeno) says that fire is the element of what exists, like Heraclitus, and that fire has as its principles (ἀρχάς) god and matter, like Plato. (Aristocles apud Eus. PE 15.14.1 = SVF 1.98 and 45G L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley)

22  Chapter 1 God-as-fire is here not one of the four traditional elements, but refers to a more elementary state, that of god when ‘mixed’, so to say, with matter. God’s immanence is what precludes us from going beyond physics and the natural primary state of things, that of fire. The reasons why Zeno opted for an immanent god are at least twofold. First, from an ontological point of view, Zeno held that interaction between cause and matter requires contact (and contact requires the two principles to be corporeal).16 A separate and external god, like the one of the Timaeus, would therefore be unable to create anything. Second, while he thought that there is no essential difference between nature and art, he recognised, as we have seen, that nature works with ‘far more skilful craftsmanship’ (T1-2). This superiority is spelled out in an argument preserved by Alexander of Aphrodisias, who explains that while products of human craftsmanship (like statues) are only superficially (i.e. externally) crafted, their inner parts being not moulded, the world, on the other hand, is completely formed and moulded. From that, the argument goes, it follows that the maker of the world must be ‘present in the matter’.17 2.2 Nature as a craftsman Because of his rejection of transcendence, Zeno came to interpret Plato’s Timaeus in a very peculiar way, taking Plato’s divine demiurge as immanent and therefore identical to the nature of the world, so much so that nature itself should not simply be recognized as ‘craftsmanlike’, but actually as a ‘craftsman’ in its own right: T1-5 (follows T1-2) The nature of the world itself, which encloses and contains all things in its embrace (qui omnia conplexu suo coercet et continet), is styled by Zeno not merely ‘craftsmanlike’ but actually ‘a craftsman’ (natura non artificiosa solum sed plane artifex), deliberating and providing of every advantage and opportunity (consultrix et prouida utilitatum opportunitatumque omnium) [Here comes T10-17] Such being the nature of the world-mind, it can therefore correctly be designated as prudence or providence (Talis igitur mens mundi cum sit ob eamque causam uel prudentia uel prouidentia appellari recte possit) (for in Greek it is termed ‘πρόνοια’): what it chiefly (potissimum) cares for and is especially engaged in (haec potissimum prouidet et in is maxime est occupata) is, first, that the world be best fitted for permanence (primum ut mundus quam aptissimus sit ad permanendum); next, that it lacks nothing; and chiefly, that it contains in itself consummate beauty and embellishment of every kind. (Cic. ND 2.58 = SVF 1.172, trans. Rackham, adapted) Making nature a craftsman is a way of explaining that providence is as far-reaching as universal nature while at the same time making nature an intelligent being capable of forethought and deliberation. The words used

Zeno on providence  23 by Cicero here are worth noting: nature, he says, is ‘consultrix et prouida’ of every advantage and opportunity.18 The two terms have already been presented in connection to one another at the beginning of the dialogue,19 where the Stoics (although they are as yet unnamed) are presented as philosophers who believe that the gods ‘deliberate and provide for the life of human beings’ (hominum uitae consuli et prouideri).20 It is possible those words reflect the double meaning of the Greek term πρόνοια, which Cicero renders by prudentia and prouidentia. In Latin, there is an etymological link between prudentia and prouidentia, the former being derived (by contraction) from the latter.21 Although closely linked, their meanings are nevertheless not identical. In Cicero’s On Laws,22 prudentia (wisdom) is presented as a virtue that is concerned with the selection of what is good and the rejection of what is bad (see also infra T4-15 [b]). Its link with prouidentia emphasizes the utility of such a virtue with regard to the foreseeing of future events and the ways to prepare oneself for them.23 It is possible that Cicero intended to link consultrix to prudentia (as a form of deliberation) and prouida to prouidentia, and that he wanted to spell out the subtle distinction between ‘prevision’ (foreknowledge, deliberation before action) and ‘provision’ (resources, capacities allocated for the preservation of life) (on which, see also infra T5-23 [d] and T6-1). In any case, he rightly emphasized the providential nature that wisdom or reason possesses, according to the Stoics, a subject we will have other occasions to delve into in the course of this book. With regard to providence, Zeno’s decision to identify Plato’s demiurge to nature has at least two important consequences. First, the craftsman model adopted by Plato in the Timaeus to explain the generation of the world, which implies a form of separation (between the demiurge, the matter he is working on, the intellectual archetype he is contemplating and finally the product he is creating), tends to give way, in Zeno and the Stoa, to a biological model. Pioneering work by D. E. Hahm24 has shown that the original context of the Stoic discussion of ἀρχαί (principles) was biological, or rather cosmobiological. Zeno and later Stoics looked at the world as a living ensouled rational being25 whose generation should be explained in biological terms and by means of biological models, such as that which presents god as ‘the seminal reason of the world’.26 This may explain why Zeno does not seem to have made much of Timaeus’ all important section about the Pythagorean geometrization of matter.27 That does not necessarily imply, however, that he rejected Pythagoreanism, and we will see that a certain Pythagorean approach can be found in Cleanthes (see Chapter 2, section 2), and in later Stoics, in particular Panaetius (see Chapter 4, section 1) and Posidonius (see Chapter 5). The other consequence of Zeno’s identification of Plato’s demiurge with nature concerns the extension of providence and the unity of the cosmos: T1-6 [Chrysippus and Zeno] have established, first, that god is the principle of everything (ἀρχὴν… τῶν πάντων θεόν), being the purest body,

24  Chapter 1 and second, that his providence pervades everything (διὰ πάντων δὲ διήκειν τὴν πρόνοιαν αὐτοῦ). (Hipp. Ref. 1.21.1 = SVF 1.153) God’s immanence into the world makes providence a power that ‘pervades everything’. One important implication of this doctrine is that the traditional distinction between an upper celestial world and a lower earthly one tends to disappear in Stoicism.28 Here it is worth recalling one major criticism Zeno made against Aristotle (one of the very few that is explicitly mentioned in our ancient sources),29 namely his dismissal of the Stagirite’s fifth element: T1-7 He (Zeno) didn’t accept the addition to the four elements of that fifth nature his predecessors imagined as the source of the senses and the mind: he declared that fire was the nature that brings everything into being, and also the mind and the senses. (Cic. Var. 39 = SVF 1.134, trans. Brittain) The fifth element was introduced by Aristotle in order to account for the perfect circular movement of the celestial bodies.30 It was a fifth primary body, different from and irreducible to the four traditional ones at work in the lower, imperfect part of the world. Although Aristotle did not develop a general doctrine of providence, his conception of god as a separate unmoved mover and his doctrine of a fifth primary body led some later Peripatetics (here Critolaus)31 to the following interpretation of his thought, where providence is limited to celestial movements and completely absent from the world of human beings: T1-8 He (Aristotle) said that there are two principles, god and matter, and that the things above the moon are objects of divine providence (θείας προνοίας), but the things below the moon exist without providence (ἀπρονόητα) and are borne along in some irrational way as chance has it. He says that there are two worlds (εἶναι δὲ λέγει δύο κόσμους), that above and that below (τὸν ἄνω καὶ τὸν κάτω), and that which is above is imperishable, but that which is below is subject to passing away… Critolaus of Phaselis held the same opinions as Aristotle. (Epiphanius, Fid. 9.35 and 39 = Critolaus, fr. 15 Wehrli, trans. Sharples 2010, adapted) Although Critolaus (second century B.C.) was not a contemporary of Zeno, it is plausible that the way he interpreted Aristotle’s thought, in particular the idea of a ‘two-world theory’ where providence is restricted to the ‘things above the moon’, was already an accepted interpretation of Aristotle in Zeno’s time, who must himself have thought that this was a necessary consequence of Aristotle’s theology and cosmology. As a later critic of

Zeno on providence  25 Aristotle – Atticus – explains, a two-world theory makes providence completely irrelevant ‘to us’ (πρὸς ἡμᾶς), i.e. humans, and therefore contradicts the very notion of providence.32 Zeno’s rejection of a fifth element and his insistence that god or nature is a craftsmanlike fire that is found in both the celestial realm and here on earth in animals (and plants, see T1-3), show that providence properly understood requires an immanent god, one whose providence pervades everything and who ensures that the cosmos is completely unified. It is likely that Zeno would have welcomed Atticus’ argument33 that genuine divine providence must be one that matters to human beings, and that god’s care and attention must therefore be thought of as including the well-being of human beings. That, in any case, is implied by his account of divination, which we are now going to examine.

3 Providence and divination Another fragment, from Diogenes Laertius, provides us with another piece of information about Zeno’s conception of providence, 34 namely that providence’s existence is a necessary condition for the existence of divination: T1-9 They (sc. Zeno, Chrysippus and Posidonius) also say that the whole of divination shall subsist, if providence exists too (καὶ μὴν καὶ μαντικὴν ὑφεστάναι πᾶσάν φασιν, εἰ καὶ πρόνοιαν εἶναι). (D.L. 7.149 = SVF 1.174) This passage does not explain why divination depends on providence (but see commentary on T4-6b). To discover the connection between the two, we must turn to a much more sophisticated argument presented by Quintus – the spokesperson of the Stoa in Cicero’s On Divination – who, in turn, attributes it to Chrysippus, Diogenes of Babylon and Antipater.35 Although Quintus does not directly link the argument to Zeno, he has previously presented the Stoic orthodox account of divination as ultimately rooted in the doctrines of Zeno: T1-10 But, when the Stoics were defending almost all its forms, in that Zeno had, as it were, scattered various seeds in his commentaries and Cleanthes had developed them a little more, then came Chrysippus, a man of very sharp intellect, who set out the whole doctrine of divination in two volumes, as well as one on oracles and one on dreams. His pupil Diogenes of Babylon followed him and wrote one volume, Antipater two, and our friend Posidonius five. (Cic. Div. 1.6 = SVF 1.173 and 1.550, trans. Wardle) Although no Stoic until Chrysippus wrote a Stoic treatise on divination, the study and defence of divination, which went on virtually uninterrupted

26  Chapter 1 until Posidonius,36 is presented here as having developed from the ‘various seeds’ scattered throughout Zeno’s works. The argument that we are going to examine, which attempts to prove the existence of divination from god’s providence, may therefore be seen as indirectly reflecting some of the teachings of Zeno: T1-11 [Second indemonstrable] If [antecedent in the form of a conjunction] there are gods and they do not declare to human beings in advance what will happen, [consequent] either [a] they do not love humans (non diligunt homines) or [b] they themselves do not know what will happen or [c] they think that there is no advantage to humans in knowing what will happen (existumant nihil interesse hominum scire, quid sit futurum) or [d] they do not consider it in accordance with their dignity to forewarn humans of what will happen or [e] even the gods themselves are unable to give signs of these things. But [negation of the consequent] [a’] it is not true that they do not love us (for they are friends and benefactors of the human race) (benefici generique hominum amici); nor [b’] are they ignorant of what has been decided and predestined by themselves; nor [c’] is it of no advantage to us to know what will come to pass (for we will be the more cautious if we know) (erimus enim cautiores, si sciemus); nor [d’] do they consider it inappropriate to their majesty (for nothing is more pre-eminent than beneficence); nor [e’] are they incapable of foreknowing the future. [Third indemonstrable] So [negation of the antecedent] it is not true that there are gods and that they do not give signs of the future. But there are gods and therefore they give signs. [Final conclusion] If they give signs, it is not true that they give us no avenue by which to understand the signs (for they would be giving signs to no purpose); nor, if they give the means, is there no divination; therefore there is divination. (Cic. Div. 1.82–83 = SVF 2.1192 and 42D L.-S., trans. Wardle, adapted) The argument can be reduced to a combination of Chrysippus’ second and third indemonstrables,37 which in itself testifies to how committed the Stoics were to defending divination and showing how it is inseparably linked to god and providence. The important section of the argument for us, which clearly shows that the existence of divination depends upon that of providence, is located within the first part, where the consequences of the initial conjunction (‘there are gods and they do not declare to human beings in advance what will happen’) are shown to be incompatible with the idea of god. Two of these consequences are directly connected with the Stoic conception of divine providence: first, that it cannot be the case that gods do not love human beings [a] since they are ‘friends and benefactors of the human race (benefici generique hominum amici)’; second, that it is not true that it is of no advantage to us to know what will come to pass [c] since ‘we will be the more careful (cautiores) if we

Zeno on providence  27 know [the future]’. We find here the core tenets of the Stoic doctrine of divine providence: the gods care for human beings and they have provided them with advantageous capacities,38 in this case the capacity to interpret signs about the future and become more careful as a consequence. The link between providence and divination is also apparent in the definition of divination: T1-12 [Divination] is the prediction and presentiment of those things which are thought to occur by chance (quae est earum rerum, quae fortuitae putantur, praedictio atque praesensio). (Cic. Div. 1.9, trans. Wardle) This definition is offered by Quintus at the beginning of his account, and the idea that divination’s specific domain is that of ‘chance’ (properly understood) will play an important part in his defence of divination,39 as we shall see. The carefully worded description of the domain of application of divination (‘things which are thought to occur by chance’) shows that Quintus is challenging the ordinary assessment made about things happening according to chance adopted by his Sceptic opponents.40 From other passages of Cicero’s On Divination, we gather that those things which are thought to occur by chance are those we usually think happen ‘randomly’ or ‘accidentally’, in the sense that there is no necessity for them to occur the way they do (they could just as well occur in a different or even opposite way).41 We have evidence that the Stoics, who were committed to the view that everything that happens, happens because of a cause, rejected that ordinary conception of chance, saying that chance (τύχη) is ‘a cause obscure to human reasoning (αἰτίαν ἄδηλον ἀνθρωπίνῳ λογισμῷ)’.42 Chance should not be seen as a rival cause to fate or necessity; like any other cause, it is by definition included into fate. Its specificity is that it refers to causes that are obscure to human reasoning. It is clear from the following passage, where Quintus is replying to the Sceptic’s question regarding our knowledge of the cause, that he is himself endorsing the Stoic definition of chance we have just seen: T1-13 ‘I do not see their cause’, [you say]. Perhaps it lies hidden, wrapped in the obscurity of nature (Latet fortasse obscuritate inuoluta naturae); for god has not willed me to know such things, but only to use them (non enim me deus ista scire, sed his tantum modo uti uoluit). (Cic. Div. 1.35, trans. Wardle) For Quintus, there are causes at work behind those things that are commonly thought to happen according to chance and which divination helps us to predict, but these causes are obscure to human beings. In the case of divination, these causes are not actually meant to be known by us, he says, only to be correctly interpreted and acted upon.

28  Chapter 1 We should not assume that, for the Stoics, all the causes behind things happening according to chance are meant to remain forever unknown to human beings, but the following passage, which may convey the thought of Posidonius,43 at least suggests that the existence of ‘chance’ reflects the ontological imperfection of human knowledge compared to that of god: T1-14 Since all things come to pass according to fate…, if a mortal could exist who could discern with his soul the connection of every cause, surely nothing would deceive him. For he who grasps the causes of future events necessarily grasps every future event. But since no one can do this other than god (Quod cum nemo facere nisi deus possit), what remains is for human beings to know what will happen in advance by means of certain signs which will make clear what follows them. For those things which are yet to be do not suddenly come into being, but, like the uncoiling of a rope (quasi rudentis explicatio), the passing of time brings about nothing new but unfolds each event in sequence. Both those who have the gift of natural divination and those for whom the course of events is marked by observation realise this. Although the latter do not see the causes themselves (Qui etsi causas ipsas non cernunt), nonetheless they do see the signs and marks of the causes (signa tamen causarum et notas cernunt). (Cic. Div. 1.127 = SVF 2.944 and 55O L.-S., trans. Wardle) This passage helps us to better understand the connection between providence and divination found in T1-9, and the kind of advantage it represents for human beings. We know that god loves human beings (T1-11) and that his providence is the source of everything that is advantageous (T1-5). In particular, we must assume that god has provided human beings with useful capacities, especially those that will make up for any deficiencies due to the imperfection of human nature. Given that it was impossible for god to make human beings omniscient, on account of their particular and mortal nature, he designed a way for them to compensate for that deficiency: a capacity to foresee future events through the knowledge of signs rather than that of causes.44

4 Does god care for even ‘the slightest of things’? Not included in the SVF is a passage, from Alexander of Aphrodisias’ On Providence, ascribing to Zeno and the Stoics a particular argument regarding divine providence. Most of the treatise’s Greek original is now lost, but, in addition to the Arabic translation by Abū Bišr Mattā ibn Yūnus,45 we have some passages of it (including a portion of T1-15, in italics) excerpted by Cyril of Alexandria, in his Against Julian.46 The passage is part of a dialectical presentation of opposing views on providence: after having expounded the doctrine of those (i.e. the Atomists)

Zeno on providence  29 who reject divine providence, Alexander presents the doctrine of those who accept it and concludes that while only some say that Plato advocated the latter position, it is at least clear that Zeno of Citium and the Stoics were full-blooded supporters of divine providence. The argument starts [a] by drawing an analogy between gods and good householders, and then [b] presents and refutes the idea that gods are either [c] unable or [d] unwilling to care for things on earth. The text is particularly interesting for us since it is ultimately concerned with the question of the exact extension of god’s providence: T1-15 [a] Analogy also agrees with this. For as in houses of clever and prudent human beings nothing falls outside the case of the heads of the households, but their concern includes all their property and its ordering, not only do they distinguish themselves thereby from simpler and less careful humans, but thus must the gods, who are the cleverest of all, engage in sustaining the world as a logical consequence of their specific rank. [b] For if they exercise no providence for things on earth, it is either because they neither wish to nor can, or because they are able to, indeed, but do not wish [to exercise] providence for things on earth, but to leave them without any providential care. If either of these possible alternatives is unworthy for the gods, it is contradicted. [c] [The first thesis] that the gods are not capable of providence for things on earth is from every point of view a statement unworthy of the gods. For according to this statement god is less capable than human beings, since for them the management of their houses is not too difficult or impossible, while for the gods what corresponds would be too difficult and impossible. [d] And [the second thesis] that god does not will to exercise providence for matters here below is completely alien to god. For it is characteristic of some envious and absolutely monstruous nature (φθόνου γάρ τινος καὶ παντάπασιν ἀτόπου φύσεως) not to want to do what is best when one can. Since both of these [theses] are alien to god (ἀλλότριον θεοῦ), neither one of them nor both of them is true of him. Therefore, it remains that the divine is both able and willing to exercise providence for matters here below (τὸ καὶ δύνασθαι καὶ βούλεσθαι προνοεῖν τὸ θε ῖον τῶν ἐνταῦθα). And if he is willing and able, obviously he does exercise providence. It is not reasonable to suppose that anything, even the slightest, takes place apart from the divine decision and will (οὐδὲν ἄρα οὐδὲ τῶν τυχόντων εὔλογον χωρὶς τῆς θείας γενέσθαι γνώμης τε καὶ βουλήσεως). [e] Some say that Plato too advocated this view (Ταύτης δὲ τῆς δόξης φασὶ μὲν εἶναί τινες καὶ Πλάτωνα). In any case it is clear that Zeno of Citium and the Stoics were the proponents of this doctrine (φανερῶς δὲ Ζήνων τε ὁ Κιτιεὺς καὶ οἱ ἀπὸ τῆς Στοᾶς πρεσβεύουσι τὸ δόγμα τοῦτο). (Alex. Prov. 5.16–7.21 Ruland and, for the Greek section, Cyril, Cont. Jul. 596b, trans. Sharples and Grant, adapted)

30  Chapter 1 While Alexander often quotes from and attacks the Stoics, he rarely names specific Stoic philosophers, which makes this passage particularly valuable.47 On the other hand, Robert Sharples has convincingly shown that the core of the argument here presented ‘recalls Plato’s in Laws 10, including the example of the householder’.48 Indeed, in both these texts, we find at work, first, the argument from will and ability, and, second, the same insistence that god’s providence extends not only to large matters but also to small and apparently insignificant ones. So, in the Laws, the Athenian stranger claims that god is ‘both willing and able to exercise care (βουλόμενόν τ’ ἐπιμελεῖσθαι καὶ δυνάμενον)’ and that ‘the gods care for small things (σμικρῶν) no less but more than for those that are exceptional in magnitude (τῶν μεγέθει διαφερόντων)’.49 We should note here that while individual human beings, in Plato’s account, fall into the category of ‘small things’,50 they are presumably not exhaustive of it. The question, therefore, is whether Alexander is right to attribute such an argument51 and, above all, its conclusion to Zeno.52 At first sight, nothing in what we have seen regarding Zeno’s account of providence appears incompatible with the idea that divine providence extends down to the smallest of things. On the contrary, we have seen (in T1-6) that both Zeno and Chrysippus are credited with the view that ‘god’s providence pervades everything’. It would not be difficult to argue that if providence pervades everything, then god should be regarded as a being concerned even with the slightest of things and matters. But things are not as straightforward as they might appear. As we will see in detail in Chapter 10, section 5, while the Stoics defended the view that gods take care of individual human beings, they also allowed for a form of divine negligence regarding ‘small (i.e. insignificant) matters’ (parua).53 It seems, therefore, that a Stoic can hold that providence pervades everything, on account of god being totally blended with matter, and at the same time claim that god’s providence (at least sometimes) ignores the small stuff. Consequently, we should be cautious not to jump to the conclusion that Zeno, since he held that providence pervades everything, must also have thought that providence concerns itself with everything, including insignificant and unworthy details (other than individual human beings). The former does not imply the latter.54 Still, it is not inconceivable that Zeno initially extended divine care to small, even negligible things and that later Stoics disagreed with him and revised his account accordingly. But if our major piece of evidence for this scenario is T1-15, then such hypothesis is a rather fragile one. Let us recall that Alexander attributes the argument he is reporting not only to Zeno and the Stoics but also to Plato (according to some unnamed source). Given the many similarities between that argument and the one in Plato’s Laws 10, the safer assumption would be that his real source is Plato, and that he added the name of Zeno and the Stoics because he thought that they basically agreed with Plato on this issue. As we shall see, this assumption is not entirely unwarranted. For T1-15 is only part of the argument for providence

Zeno on providence  31 reported by Alexander. It follows another argument, which, for its part, is distinctively Stoic: Τ1-16 None of the events in the world happens without providence. For ‘all things are full of the divine’ and it extends through all beings (διὰ πάντων αὐτὸ διήκειν τῶν ὄντων). Therefore, everything that comes to be comes into existence in accordance with the will of god (πάντα τὰ γινόμενα γίνεσθαι κατὰ βούλησιν τοῦ θεοῦ), since he is the guardian and the administrator of all of them. And this fact is attested by the phenomena. For the fact that the order (τάξις) of things that come to be is by nature always the same (φύσει ἀεὶ παραπλησίως ἔχουσα) is a strong proof that these things do not come to be by chance (κατὰ τύχην). For none of what happens by chance and spontaneously is definite: it occurs only rarely and its states differ and vary from time to time. Furthermore, the existence of predictions and oracles about the future (some by revelation, some by dreams, others by divination) is clear evidence that the gods care for things here below and that providence towards them is an act of god. (Alex. Prov. 5.1–15 Ruland and, for the Greek section, Cyril, Cont. Jul. 625c, trans. partly based on Thillet and Grant fr. 3) That providence ‘extends through all beings (διὰ πάντων αὐτὸ διήκειν τῶν ὄντων)’ is exactly the position that Zeno and Chrysippus are reported to hold in T1-6 (διὰ πάντων δὲ διήκειν τὴν πρόνοιαν αὐτοῦ). The use of the verb διήκειν, in this context, is clearly Stoic and recalls their account of total blending, according to which god (or the active principle) permeates everything while conserving its distinct quality.55 The argument from teleology, according to which the order in which things are set shows that they are not the result of chance, is again perfectly compatible with Zeno’s account of providence (T1-1), even if it is not impossible that Alexander added here some of his own terminology. Finally, the appeal to predictions and oracles is in line with T1-9, which also attributes to Zeno the idea that providence can be demonstrated by divination. From all this, the obvious conclusion is that what Alexander presents as a single unified defence of providence is in fact a compound of two different accounts, one essentially Stoic (T1-16) and one Platonic (T1-15). He probably thought he could bring the two together because both of them seem to endorse a form of universal providence.56 But as mentioned previously, the Stoics would not accept that god always attends to details and insignificant things, and in this they (perhaps intentionally) disagreed with Plato. Either Alexander was unaware of that difference or he did not think it important enough to be taken into consideration, given that his intention was to present dialectically a series of arguments pro and contra providence, which implies some form of artificial uniformization. However, the fact that he mentions the names Plato and Zeno is an indication that he was dealing with arguments from different sources, and this has now been confirmed by

32

Chapter 1

our analysis of the texts. All this seems to indicate that when he speaks of ‘Zeno of Citium and the Stoics’, he must have meant principally the first part of the account he just reported (T1-16).

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

9

10 11 12 13 14

15 16

Dorandi 1999: 38. D.L. 7.134 = SVF 2.300 and 44B2 L.-S. S.E. M 9.76 = SVF 2.311 and 44C5 L.-S. Sen. Ep. 121.18. D.L. 7.120 = SVF 3.731. Cic. Fin. 3.62 = SVF 3.340 and 57F1 L.-S. (quoted in T7-29). The view that Stoic physics is materialistic goes back to the first Ancient critics of the Stoa, especially the Platonists (e.g. Plutarch and Plotinus). On this, see Cooper 2009: 97 and Collette-Dučić 2017b. On this, see Hahm 1997: 57–90. According to Hahm’s reconstruction of Zeno’s account (see especially p. 57 ff.), the four elements are products of some preelemental water, which is itself obtained out of the primeval fire. Diogenes Laertius, reporting views of Stoics, including Zeno’s On the Universe, says they claim that god ‘creates first of all the four elements (ἀπογεννᾶν πρῶτον τὰ τέσσαρα στοιχεῖα), fire, water, air, earth’ (7.136 = SVF 2.102 and 46B3 L.-S.). Six paragraphs later (see 7.142 = SVF 2.581), Diogenes Laertius reports how the Stoics (including, again, Zeno, in his On the Universe) describe the generation of the four elements out of fire (ἐκ πυρὸς): first air and humidity, then, out of some portion of humidity, earth, and out of some other (thinner) portion of water, fire. So, in D.L. 7.142, the substance (οὐσία) is already fiery before giving birth to the four elements. This confirms that fire can be understood, in certain contexts, as referring to a more primitive stage in the formation of the world than that of the four στοιχεῖα. In that sense, it stands at an intermediary level between the principles, which are ungenerated and indestructible, and the elements, which are generated and destructible (see D.L. 7.134 = SVF 2.229 and 44B3 L.-S.). On this, see the important study by Cooper 2009, who explains that that primeval fire, which is more elementary than the four στοιχεῖα, was later on called by Chrysippus (see Phil. Aet. mundi 90 = SVF 1.511 and 46M L.-S.) ‘flash of light’ (αὐγή). According to Cooper (2009: 105), Chrysippus described it as an element (as it was already the case for Zeno, see T1-4), not to be confused, though, with the four cardinal elements. On the reception of Plato’s Timaeus in Stoicism, see especially Reydams-Schils 1999 and 2013, as well as Sedley 2002 and 2012. One important argument of Zeno as a proof that the world is ‘an ensouled animal, endowed with mind and rational’ (S.E. M 9.104 = SVF 1.111 and 54F1 L.-S.) is explicitly connected with Tim. 29d and 30d. On this, see Sedley 2009: 225 ff. Pl. Tim. 48b-c. Pl. Tim. 52e: μήθ’ ὁμοίων δυνάμεων μήτε ἰσορρόπων. For proportion and commensurability as divine, see Pl. Tim. 31c and 32b. Pl. Tim. 53c ff. As noted in Sedley 2009: 209, the Stoic conception of a completely motionless matter is in fact closer to Plato’s account in the Phaedo, where Socrates explicitly refuses to grant matter the status of a cause (99b), whereas in the Timaeus, matter is linked to συναιτία (‘auxiliary causes’, 46c-e). On this, see the useful remarks in Long and Sedley 1987, vol. 1: 278. See Collette-Dućič 2017b: 107–110.

Zeno on providence 33 17 Alex. Mixt. 225.18–27 = SVF 2.1044. The importance of this argument has been well shown by Bénatouïl 2009a: 25–26. 18 As suggested in Wildberger 2018: 63, n. 149, ‘opportunitas may be a translation of εὐκαιρία; see Cic. Fin. 3.46’. 19 This is noticed by Pease 1955–1958: 686. 20 Cic. ND 1.4. 21 See Aubert-Baillot 2015a: 69: ‘As to prudentia, it is a technical derivation from prouidentia, i.e. the faculty of fore-seeing (pro-uidere), fore-sight, and of course, Pro-vidence’ (my translation). See also Ernout and Meillet 2011: 541 (s.v. prudens), and Hellegouarc’h 1963: 256. Cicero is well aware of that etymology: see De leg. 1.60, and De re pub. 6.1. 22 Cic. De leg. 1.60: the sharpening of the gaze of the mind, like that of the eyes, ‘for the selection of good things and the rejection of the opposite (ad bona seligenda et reicienda contraria)’, is a virtue that is called ‘prudence’, the name of which is derived ‘from the capacity to see ahead’ (quae uirtus ex prouidendo est appellata prudentia). 23 A close and instructive parallel can be found in Plato’s Protagoras, where Socrates connects φρόνησις – the Greek word that Cicero renders by prudentia – with the god Prometheus (literally, ‘Forethought’), who symbolizes foreknowledge and providence (in Pl. Prot. 352c, φρόνησις is presented as ‘a sufficient safeguard for men’, and in 361c-d, forethought is what Socrates uses to prepare for his whole life). Socrates’ φρόνησις refers to a wise form of deliberation (see in particular Pl. Prot. 333c, where ‘εὖ φρονεῖν’ or right thinking implies ‘εὖ βουλεύεσθαι’ or right deliberation) by which it is decided what present course of action would really be advantageous, that is to say, will prove so in the future. In the Protagoras, the providential power of φρόνησις is in direct contrast with that of the ‘not so wise’ (321b) Epimetheus (literally, ‘Afterthought’), who, in the famous myth narrated by Protagoras, completely forgets to take human beings into account in his distribution of life-preserving capacities, so much so that the human race would not have survived were it not for Prometheus’ intervention (who stole fire and arts from the gods). 24 Hahm 1997. 25 Zeno crafted various proofs to the effect that the world is an animal. See S.E. M 9.101–103. 26 D.L. 7.136 = SVF 2.102 and 46B2 L.-S.: σπερματικὸν λόγον ὄντα τοῦ κόσμου. 27 In general, the Stoics, with the exception of Posidonius (see Chapter 5), did not seem very interested in conducting a properly scientific study of the world. For the possible reasons why Zeno omitted the Timaeus’ section on geometry, see Sedley 2009: 209. 28 On this, see Bénatouïl 2009a: 31–36. 29 For a fuller analysis of Zeno’s criticism of Aristotle, see Collette-Dućič 2017b: 95–107. For the reception of Aristotle in the Stoa, see now Bénatouïl 2016a. 30 See. Ar. De cael. 1.3.269b ff. 31 See Sharples 2001: 22–23. 32 Eus. PE 15.5.8 = Atticus fr. 3, 54 des Places. On Atticus’ views on providence, see Michalewski 2017. 33 See also infra T5-10 [c2] where that argument is levelled against Epicurus. 34 Zeno has been named just before, along with Chrysippus and Posidonius, in a passage about fate, and is named again immediately after in a passage about divination as an art. 35 Cic. Div. 1.84 = SVF 3.Diog.37 and 3.Ant.40. 36 The only major Stoic who clearly departed from the Stoic tradition, as noted by Cicero, is Panaetius, who is named immediately after T1-10 and presented there

34

37

38

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Chapter 1 as someone ‘who deviated from the Stoics’ but nevertheless ‘did not dare to deny the existence of a divinatory force, but said that he had his doubts’. Panaetius also completely rejected astrology (Cic. Div. 2.88). We shall examine his thought in Chapter 4, sections 3 and 4. As for Diogenes of Babylon, who ran the school before Antipater, he is reported in T1-10 as having defended divination and written a book on the topic. With regard to the predictions made by astrologers, Diogenes accepted only that ‘they have the power of prophecy to the extent of being able to tell the disposition of any child and the calling for which he is best fitted’ (Cic. Div. 2.90 = SVF 3.Diog.36, trans. Falconer). But he denied that any more precise foreknowledge is possible. Although Diogenes might have been influenced by some sceptical arguments against astrology, it must be noted here that he was not the first Stoic to correct the views of the astrologers. Indeed, Chrysippus himself held that their predictions should not be presented in a conditional form (‘If anyone was born at the rising of the dogstar he will not die at sea’), because such a form would make the prediction (stated in the consequent) necessary (see Cic. Fat. 15 = SVF 2.954 and 38E6 L.-S., and Gourinat 2012c: 571). By and large, the Stoics remained consistently in favour of divination, and the claim made by Carlos Lévy (1997: 327) that there was, in the Stoa, ‘with a very striking regularity (avec une très frappante régularité), an alternation of scholarchs totally favorable to divination, and scholarchs who expressed more or less strongly reservations that could go as far as radical skepticism’, is not supported by the evidence which we possess. Lévy’s interpretation has been adopted by Pià Comella 2014: 58. Sandbach (1975: 98–99). The argument starts with the second indemonstrable (‘If the first and the second, the third. But not the third. Therefore not both: the first and the second’, S.E. M 8.236 = 36G7 L.-S.), by which it is shown that we should reject the initial conjunction between ‘there are gods’ and ‘gods do not give signs of the future’. The application of the third indemonstrable (‘Not both: the first and the second. But the first. Therefore not the second’ (ibidem) starts with that conclusion (‘not both: there are gods and they do not give signs of the future’) and, from the recognition of the existence of the gods (‘there are gods’), concludes that we must reject the idea that ‘they do not give signs of the future’. From there, the final conclusion can be reached, based on the principle of coherence or consequentiality: gods would send signs in vain if human beings were not actually equipped with the capacity to interpret them; therefore, one must recognize the existence of divination. The question of the utility of divination was discussed in two different contexts by the Stoics: either in relation to providence or in relation to fate. I am only interested in the former here. For the Stoic account of cofatedness as a way to preserve both the utility of divination (its warning against future possible evils) and the idea that everything happens according to fate, see in particular Bobzien 1998: 180–233 and Gourinat 2005a. The importance of that point has been shown by Denyer 1985. See also Hankinson 1988: 155–157. According to Wardle 2006:122, the definition used by Quintus may be a ‘reformulation by Posidonius of Antipater’s definition’, and reflects an attempt to clarify earlier accounts. For instance, in Div. 1.23: You ask, Carneades, why these things happen in this way and by what technique they can be understood? I admit that I do not know, but I say that you yourself see them happen. “By chance (Casu)”, you say. Can that really be so? (…) Paint sprayed at random on a canvas can form the outlines of a face, but surely you don’t think that the beauty of the Venus of Cos could be produced by a random ( fortuita) spraying? (Trans. Wardle)

Zeno on providence 35 41 See in particular Div. 2.15: ‘Can there, then, be any foreknowledge of things for whose happening no reason exists (quae nihil habent rationis)? For we do not apply the words “chance” ( fors), “luck” ( fortuna). “accident” (casus) or “casualty” (euentus) except to an event which has so occurred or happened that it either might not have occurred at all, or might have occurred in any other way. How, then, is it possible to foresee and to predict an event that happens at random, as the result of blind accident or of unstable chance (quod temere fit caeco casu et uolubilitate fortunae)?’ (Cic. Div. 2.15, trans. Falconer). Although the word ‘fortuitus’ is not used here, it is clear from the context that it is how Cicero (the Sceptic character in the dialogue) understands it. 42 Alex. Fat. 174.2–3. See also Stob. Ecl. 1.92.14–15. That definition of chance probably goes back at least to Chrysippus. Here is Chrysippus’ reply to philosophers who claimed that our souls are capable of ‘a kind of adventitious motion (ἐπελευστικήν τινα κίνησιν)’ active when faced with (apparently) indistinguishable alternatives: Disputing them as men who constrain nature with no cause (ὡς βιαζομένους τῷ ἀναιτίῳ τὴν φύσιν), Chrysippus in many places cites as evidence dice and scales and many of the things that cannot fall or incline now one way and now another without the occurrence of some cause, that is of some variation either entirely in the things themselves or in their environment, it being his contention that the uncaused is altogether non-existent and so is the spontaneous (τὸ γὰρ ἀναίτιον ὅλως ἀνύπαρκτον εἶναι καὶ τὸ αὐτόματον) and that in these movements which some people imagine and call adventitious obscure causes (αἰτίας ἀδήλους) insinuate themselves and without our notice (λανθάνειν ἡμᾶς) direct our impulse in one way or the other. (Plut. St. rep. 23.1045B-C = SVF 2.973, trans Cherniss)

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So, not only did Chrysippus criticize the ordinary conception of chance (as uncaused, random), he also insisted, like Quintus in T1-12 and T1-13, that what people think happens ‘by chance’ in fact happens according to causes that are obscure and which we fail to grasp. Posidonius’ thought is introduced in Cic. Div. 1.125 = Posidonius F107 E.-K. and again in 1.130 = Posidonius F110 E.-K., and the whole passage from 1.125 to 1.130 seems to reflect his views. See Bobzien 1998: 175. As that has been brilliantly shown by Denyer 1985: 3, Cicero’s sceptical complaint against the Stoics in Cic. Div. 2.9–12 – i.e. that they fail to provide the reason behind the occurrence of things – is in this respect misguided. See also Schofield 1986: 62–63. See Endress 2014: Abū Bišr Mattā ibn Yūnus was a ‘translator of and commentator on Aristotle, [and] one of the principal initiators of the reception of Peripatetic philosophy through Arabic translations from Syriac in its final phase in the 4th/10th century’. The fragments of Alexander’s On Providence in Cyril of Alexandria have been collected by Grant 1964. See also Fazzo 2000 and Thillet 2003: 54–61. Full translations of the Arabic version of Alexander’s On Providence have been made in German (Ruland 1976), Italian (Fazzo and Zonta 1998) and French (Thillet 2003). A partial English translation of T1-15 is found in Sharples 2003: 117–118. The Greek version, which has been here translated (in italics), clearly mentions Zeno by name. Regarding the Arabic version, though, Ruland 1976 reads only ‘die Platonische (?) und die Stoische’. Thillet 2003, on the other hand, has: ‘Certains pensent que Platon était de cet avis. En tout cas il est évident que partagent cette opinion Zénon de Citium et les stoïciens’ (3, 14–15 Thillet). He writes (2003: 90, n. 250) ‘La lecture de S, qui est ici suivie, est confirmée par la citation de Cyril d’Alexandrie, fr. 1 Grant, trop brièvement interrompue’.

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Chapter 1 Sharples 2003: 118. Pl. Leg. 10.900c and 902e. See Pl. Leg. 10.903c. One argument against providence extending to human affairs that is based on the concepts of capacity and will is found at the beginning of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods (1.3). Its origin is, in all likelihood, Epicurean, and part of a larger argument presented in the form of a tetralemma: see Lact. De ira 13.20– 21 and S.E. PH 3.9–11. For further references, see Pease 1955–1958: 1222 and Philippson 1939: 21–22. The idea of universal providence extending down to the smallest of things appears nowhere else in Plato than in the Laws, a work that does not seem to have exercised a strong positive influence on the Stoa. We know, for instance, that Persaeus of Citium, a disciple of Zeno, wrote a treatise against Plato’s Laws (see D.L. 7.36 = SVF 1.435). Regarding a possible influence of Plato’s Laws on Stoicism, see Long 1974: 112 (‘The theology of Plato’s Laws with its eloquent defence of providence has affinities with Stoicism which cannot be accidental’) and 151, Frede 2001 and Sedley 2009: 205 and 205 n. 2. Cic. ND 2.167. See also Cic. Div. 1.118 = SVF 2.1210 and 42E L.-S., where it is said that ‘it is not Stoic doctrine that the gods are concerned with every single fissure of livers, with every birdsong (for that is neither appropriate nor worthy, nor in any way possible)’ (trans. Wardle). For that reason, I think expressions such as ‘Stoic Panprovidentialism’ (used in Dragona-Monachou 1973: 267) are potentially misleading as they tend to blur the distinction between the Stoic and the Platonic views. See Alex. Mixt. 216.16 = SVF 2.473 and 48C1 L.-S. The same holds for Goldschmidt 1979: 85, n. 1, who ascribes virtually the same doctrine as Plato’s (in the Laws) to the Stoics.

2

Cleanthes on providence

We have seen that Zeno developed his theory of providence within his study of physics, in treatises such as On Nature, On Substance or On the Universe. He did not write a separate treatise On Providence, or even On the Gods, and contrary to what von Arnim and other modern commentators have thought, he probably did not write an independent commentary on Hesiod’s Theogony.1 Zeno’s account of providence was embedded in his physics, and therefore inseparable from it. This is an important point because many of Zeno’s pupils were only interested in ethics,2 and Aristo of Chios, in particular, rejected the Zenonian tripartition of philosophy into physics, logic and ethics, saying that logic is ‘nothing to us’ and that physics is ‘beyond our grasp’.3 Since theology was a branch of physics, Aristo’s agnosticism regarding the latter must have had consequences for his views on the former. Indeed, according to Velleius, the Epicurean spokesperson in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, Aristo thought that ‘the form of the deity ( formam dei) cannot be comprehended (intellegi)’, ‘denies that god has sense-perception’ and is ‘uncertain whether god is a living being (animans) at all’.4 Casting doubts on whether god is a living being with sense-perception is, of course, tantamount to calling the whole cosmobiology of Zeno into question, since Zeno held that the cosmos is an intelligent living being, like the world in Plato’s Timaeus. The main motive behind Aristo’s particular brand of Stoicism was a desire to return to what he thought was true Socratism. Indeed, Socrates was described by Xenophon as rejecting physics altogether5 and, in general, depicted in antiquity as having concerned himself only with ethics.6 Consequently, some amongst Zeno’s inner circle were unhappy with the master’s interest in physics and wanted to return to an apparently stricter version of Socratism. Had they succeeded, it is safe to assume that Stoicism, at least the Stoicism that we know in which physics plays a central role, would not have come to be. It might therefore be argued that we owe the survival of the historical Stoa to Cleanthes (331/30–230/29 B.C.),7 who was one of the few amongst Zeno’s disciples with a keen interest in physics and who, like Zeno, studied providence as a part of physics. Cleanthes was also the first Stoic to write a treatise On the Gods (Περὶ τῶν θεῶν), inaugurating a long DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-2

38  Chapter 2 tradition within the Stoa. Thus, for the first time within the school, theology became a specific object of study. Nevertheless, we will see that what has been sometimes described as Cleanthes’ profound religiosity, showcased in his famous Hymn to Zeus,8 did not in any way lead the Stoics to regard divine providence as separate from physics.

1 The world is governed by a divine mind At the death of Zeno, Cleanthes assumed the leadership of the Stoa. His principal task in this role was to defend and consolidate Zeno’s legacy, especially in the domain of physics and theology. A quick glance at the lists of his writings9 shows that he defended Zeno against some of the master’s former students, such as Herillos of Carthage (in his Against Herillos), undertook to explain Zeno’s physics (in On Zeno’s Physical Inquiries) and took on atomism (in Against Democritus). As the title of this last treatise suggests, one of the chief opponents of the Stoics at the time of Cleanthes in matters of physics and cosmology was not Epicurus10 but Democritus, a philosopher whom some believe to have already been targeted by Plato in the Timaeus. In this dialogue, matter alone is shown to be unable to account for the world and its order. Order, for Plato as for the Stoics, is essentially teleological: it implies the existence of an end or telos (the good) that imposes its law onto the movements through which the world is created and maintained. It is possible that Plato developed his own teleological account partly in reaction to the atomistic views of Democritus, who, for his part, thought that order can be explained by the mechanistic, material process of discrimination by likes, such as that which we observe in the use of sieves, where similar bodies tend to gather together and to separate from dissimilar ones.11 As Gregory explains, ‘Plato’s Timaeus too advocated a like-to-like principle, though Plato is critical of cosmogony based on this alone, as for him the cosmos is a harmonious blend of opposites, something highly unlikely to be produced from like-to-like principle alone’.12 Although Atomists are not explicitly named, Cleanthes’ teleological explanation of the world appears to directly oppose Democritus’ chancebased account13 of the cosmos, as can be seen in the following passage: T2-1 The fourth and most potent cause of the belief [in the existence of gods] he (Cleanthes) said was the uniform motion (aequabilitatem motus) and revolution (conuersionumque) of the heavens, and the varied groupings and ordered beauty of the sun, moon and stars, the very sight of which was in itself enough to prove that these things are not mere effect of chance (non esse ea fortuita). When a man goes into a house, a wrestling-school or a public assembly and observes the arrangement, measure and organization of everything (omnium rerum rationem modum disciplinam), he cannot possibly suppose that these things come about without a cause (sine causa): he realises that there

Cleanthes on providence  39 is someone who presides and controls. Far more therefore with the vast movements and changes (motionibus… uicissitudinibus) of the heavenly bodies, and these ordered processes (ordinibus) of a multitude of enormous masses of matter, which throughout the countless ages of the infinite past have never in the smallest degree played false, is he compelled to infer that these mighty world-motions are governed by some mind (ab aliqua mente… gubernari). (Cic. ND 2.15 = SVF 1.528 and 54C6 L.-S., trans. Rackham, adapted) The perfect regularity of the motions and revolutions of the heavens is proof for Cleanthes that a divine mind governs the world, and therefore that the gods exist. A simply materialistic account (like the one defended by the Atomists) would leave the celestial motions and their order unexplained (sine causa). A passage from his Hymn to Zeus suggests that Cleanthes defended a view close to that of Plato, according to which, as we have mentioned, the order of the world implies the harmonization of opposing forces: T2-2 But you know how to make things crooked straight (Ἀλλὰ σὺ καὶ τὰ περισσὰ ἐπίστασαι ἄρτια θεῖναι) and to order things that lack order (κοσμεῖν τἄκοσμα). Things unloved are dear to you (οὐ φίλα σοὶ φίλα ἐστίν). For you have so welded into one all things good and bad (Ὧδε γὰρ εἰς ἓν πάντα συνήρμοκας ἐσθλὰ κακοῖσιν) that they all share in a single everlasting reason (ὥσθ’ ἕνα γίγνεσθαι πάντων λόγον αἰὲν ἐόντα). (Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus apud Stob. Ecl. 1.26.7–10 = SVF 1.537 and 54I L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) Although this passage is part of Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus, which has been rightly shown to exhibit some similarities with the thought of Heraclitus,14 its content seems to me closer to the thought of Plato than to that of the earlier philosopher. Both Plato and Heraclitus insist on the existence of opposites in the world,15 but they differ as to its implications. For Plato, dissimilar and opposite natures are parts of the world and ultimately explain why we have to identify a rational, non-material principle as the cause responsible for their harmonization. Plato often speaks of the need of some form of constraint in order to bend dissimilar natures and force them to unite.16 Heraclitus, on the contrary, looked at opposites as necessary and sufficient conditions of harmony. Harmony, he claimed, is a harmony of opposites: ignorant people, he famously said, do not understand ‘how, diverging (διαφερόμενον), it accords with itself (ἑωυτῷ ὁμολογέει): a backward-turning harmony (παλίντροπος ἁρμονίη), as of a bow and a lyre’.17 The example of the bow is particularly illustrative of the opposite forces at work in any harmony according to Heraclitus: while the bow is bent forward with one hand, the string is pulled in the opposite direction by the other hand. The result is a harmonious tension.18

40  Chapter 2 Although we do not find the idea of constraint in Cleanthes, his reflections in T2-2 are closer to Plato’s than to Heraclitus’,19 since, like the former, he presents god as responsible of some sort of a somehow miraculous unification of opposites: things that lack order (τἄκοσμα) and are unloved (οὐ φίλα) – because of their opposing and conflicting natures – are being ordered (κοσμεῖν) and loved by god, the ‘all-powerful’ (παγκρατές).20 For Cleanthes, the unification of opposites is not the natural outcome of their interaction, as Heraclitus would have it, but the effect of a cause so powerful that it can unite the most opposed of things. If we return to T2-1, we can better understand why Cleanthes uses there the images of ‘a house, a wrestling-school,21 or a public assembly’. These, and particularly the last two, are places of interactions of multiple and opposing forces. The point that Cleanthes wants to make, I suggest, is that the ‘arrangement, measure and organization’ that we find in those places necessarily lead us to acknowledge the existence of a distinct governing cause, because the opposite forces at work there could not, by themselves, account for the order which they nonetheless display.

2 A cosmobiologogical approach 2.1 The world as an intelligent living being and a god I mentioned earlier that Zeno’s idea that god, i.e. the world, is a rational intelligent living being, had been called into question by his pupil Aristo. This must certainly have been seen as a threat to providence by Cleanthes who, for his part, substantially developed Zeno’s cosmobiology. Cleanthes’ fragments are particularly useful for a better understanding of the conceptual link between the idea that the world is an intelligent animal and the notion of divine providence. In keeping with Zeno, Cleanthes was keen to stress the importance of fire as a principle of the preservation of life. Here is one of his proofs for the existence of god, as reported by Balbus, the spokesman for the Stoa in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods: T2-3 [a] It is a fact that all things which undergo nurture and growth (omnia quae alantur et quae crescant) contain within themselves a power of heat (uim caloris) without which they could not be nurtured and grow (sine qua neque ali possent nec crescere). [b] For everything which is hot and fiery is roused and activated by its own movement (motu suo); but a thing which is nourished and grows has a definite and regular movement (motu… certo et aequabili); as long as this remains in us, so long sensation and life remain (sensus et uita remanet), but when the heat has been chilled and extinguished, we ourselves die and are extinguished. [c] By the following evidence too Cleanthes shows how great is the power of heat within every body: he says there is no food so heavy that it is not digested in the course of a night and a day; and even in the remains

Cleanthes on providence  41 of food which nature excretes heat is present. [d] Moreover, the veins and arteries do not cease to pulsate by a flame-like movement (igneo motu), and it has often been observed that when a living thing’s heart is torn out, it beats so rapidly that it resembles the swiftness of fire. [e] Therefore everything that lives, whether animal or vegetable, is alive on account of the heat enclosed within it. From this it must be understood that the nature of heat has within itself a vital power (uim… uitalem) which pervades the whole world (per omnem mundum pertinentem). (Cic. ND 2.23–24 = SVF 1.513 and 47C1-2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) The nature of living beings – plants and animals – shows that life and its preservation are essentially connected to the presence of fire, by which Cleanthes obviously means Zeno’s craftsmanlike fire22 (T1-2 and T1-3). Fire has various properties that are unmistakably found, according to Cleanthes, in all living beings. Its first and most obvious property [a, c] is its heating power (uis caloris), which is at work in the process of nutrition and growth. Another essential property [b, d] is movement, so essential in fact that fire is looked upon as ‘self-moving’ and, because of that, as the cause of movement and life. In addition, the movement of fire is ‘definite and regular’ [b], which is a sign that it is rational and intelligent. It is the same kind of regularity that we find in the ‘flame-like movement’ of the pulse in veins and arteries of animals. Since fire is found everywhere (namely, in animals and plants, which, together, occupy all parts of the cosmos),23 then one must conclude [e] that the whole word is pervaded by a vital power (uis uitalis) and is therefore not only alive, but a god. 2.2 The sun as the commanding faculty of the world The Stoics thought that the heart is the seat of the rational commanding faculty of the soul (the ἡγεμονικόν), and it is certainly no coincidence that Cleanthes, in T2-3, emphasizes flame-like movements of the heart itself: its beating is similar to the swiftness of fire, and its regularity a sign of the presence of reason. The analogy between a (rational) animal and the world led the Stoics to look at god as the soul of the world, pervading every part of it. Since the commanding faculty of the soul is located in a specific place within the human body, one must be able to determine where the rational centre of the world is located. Traditionally, supporters of astral theology like Plato or Aristotle would locate the divine in the far reaches of the world, namely, at its periphery, with the stars. Planets could also be included, especially when, as it is the case in Plato, their movements were proven absolutely regular.24 Even if Cleanthes certainly did not dismiss the godlike nature of stars and planets in general,25 he insisted that god’s intelligence is in fact located in the sun26: T2-4 So the whole world, which is an animal and animate and rational, has the aether as its commanding-faculty (ἔχειν ἡγεμονικὸν μὲν τὸν αἰθέρα), as Antipater of Tyre says in his On the World book 8. But Chrysippus in

42  Chapter 2 his On Providence book 1 and Posidonius in his On Gods say that the world’s commanding-faculty is the heaven (τὸν οὐρανόν), and Cleanthes the sun (τὸν ἥλιον). Yet Chrysippus in the same book has a rather different account – the purest part of the aether (τὸ καθαρώτατον τοῦ αἰθέρος). (D.L. 7.139 = SVF 2.644 and 47O L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) Cleanthes thought that the sun is the commanding faculty of the world, but none of the later Stoics here mentioned (Chrysippus, Antipater and Posidonius) agreed with him. They all instead embrace the more traditional view that the ἡγεμονικόν is in the heavens, be it its purest region or the whole of it. The text suggests that Cleanthes’ views about the sun were very original even for the later Stoics themselves who did not accept it. However, it is possible that he was in fact only following Zeno, who believed the burning of the world by the sun was the cause of its conflagration or ἐκπύρωσις (see infra T2-15 and T2-16). There are at least two main reasons why the sun is identified by Cleanthes as the commanding faculty of the world: one is its internal and essential properties; the other is its position. With regard the former, here is what Cleanthes had to say27: T2-5 [According to Cleanthes, ] the sun’s heat and brightness (solis calor et candor) are more brilliant (inlustrior) than those of any fire, since it shines (conluceat) so far and wide over the boundless universe, and its impact is so powerful that it not merely warms (tepefaciat) but also often burns (comburat). (Cic. ND 2.40 = SVF 1.504, trans. Walsh) The fire of the sun has two properties that will prove to be of particular importance for god’s providence: heat and brightness. Heat, as we already know, is essential for nutrition and growth (T2-3), and therefore for the preservation of life. Brightness is that by what the sun makes the whole universe visible to human beings. Visibility, in turns, is what makes contemplation of the sky possible, and, with it, the study of nature, from which human beings can learn the laws of nature and achieve happiness (see T10-1 and T10-2, with commentary). But since heat and brightness are also found in the other celestial bodies, what makes the sun unique is the far and wide range of its shining, which is evidence of its capacity to extend its power and governance to the outermost bounds of the universe. The other reason for holding the sun as the seat of the commanding faculty of the world is its middle position relative to the other planets. It is this particular position that explains why Cleanthes identifies the sun with Apollo: T2-6 Cleanthes said that Apollo represents the sun because he rises at times at one place and at times at another (ἀπ’ ἄλλων καὶ ἄλλων τόπων). (Macr. Sat. 1.17.8 = SVF 1.540)

Cleanthes on providence  43 T2-7 But these have not read Cleanthes the philosopher, who expressly calls the sun plectrum (πλῆκτρον); for darting his beams in the east, as if striking the world, he leads the light to its harmonious course (εἰς τὴν ἐναρμόνιον πορείαν τὸ φῶς ἄγει). (Clem. Strom. 5.8.48.1 = SVF 1.502) Cleanthes embraced the view that the cosmos is like a lyre and the sun its plectrum, which, ‘as if striking the world, … leads the light to its harmonious course’. This and the identification of the sun with Apollo most likely betray a Pythagorean influence.28 This may come as a surprise, given the way Zeno seems to have interpreted Plato’s Timaeus. As has been pointed out by David Sedley, Zeno’s interpretation appears to have stripped away the clearest Pythagorean features of that text, that is, ‘its appeal to mathematical structure as the basis of the rational design’.29 At the same time, we know that Zeno wrote a treatise called Pythagorean studies,30 which suggests that he was sympathetic to Pythagoreanism. As for Cleanthes, there is little doubt, as we are going to see, that he must have shared with the Pythagoreans an interest in geometry. According to P. Boyancé,31 Pythagoreans (or at least some of them) endorsed the Chaldean planetary system where the sun occupies the middle position or mesê, between, on the one hand, the moon, Mercury and Venus, and, on the other, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. They would compare the whole set of planets to a cosmic heptachord and attribute to the sun the function of a Mese, that is, of the middle string of a seven-stringed lyre that serves for tuning. By adopting such an account of the position and function of the sun in relation to the rest of the planets, Cleanthes undoubtedly wanted to show that these features of the sun were the result of an intelligent design aiming at the good of the universe: it is no accident that the sun, which is the most powerful of the celestial bodies, has the position that it has, since that is the best way to harmonize the whole cosmos and guarantee its unity and stability (see also infra T5-9). We may very well imagine a divine demiurge deliberating along those lines. But, as has already been explained in the previous chapter, the epistemological model of a demiurge arranging things so that they finally accord with one another is not the preferred one within the Stoa, because it has implications (i.e. externality, separation) that are at odds with the identification of god and nature upheld by the Stoics. It is likely, therefore, that Cleanthes also sought to translate biologically the geometrical centrality of the sun advocated by Pythagoreans. Since Cleanthes took the sun to be the seat of the commanding faculty of the world, he may have looked at it as the ‘heart’ of the world. Now, according to Stoic embryology, the heart plays a central part with regard to the generation of the whole animal: T2-8 In the first place… they [sc. Peripatetics and Stoics] assume that the heart is generated before everything else. Secondly, that the heart

44  Chapter 2 generates the other parts, as if the agent of the heart’s construction, whoever it is, were destroyed and not still existing (ὡς ἀπολλυμένου τοῦ διαπλάσαντος αὐτὴν, ὅστις ποτ’ ἐστὶ, καὶ μηκέτ’ ὄντος). Thirdly, as a consequence, they claim that even the deliberative part (τὸ βουλευόμενον) of our soul is situated in the heart. (Gal. Foet. 4.698.2–9 = SVF 2.761 and 53D L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) Not only is the heart generated first, but once it is, it becomes the immanent, intelligent and deliberating maker of everything else. Although we do not have direct evidence for it, Cleanthes probably held an analogous doctrine with regard to the sun, which he must have regarded not as a simple ‘organ’ of the cosmos, but as an intelligent demiurge in charge of completing the generation of the cosmos. 2.3 The earth as the privileged object of providence Making the sun the seat of the commanding faculty of the world is not without effect on one’s account of providence, particularly the object of providence. For the sun has a very close relationship with the earth. The harmony brought to the earth by the sun is well described in the following passage, which may reflect Cleanthes’ view: T2-9 Take first of all the sun, which is the chief of the celestial bodies (astrorum principatum). Its motion is such that it first fills the countries of the earth with a flood of light, and then leaves them in darkness now on one side and now on the other; for night is caused merely by the shadow of the earth, which intercepts the light of the sun. Its daily and nightly paths have the same regularity (aequabilitas). Also the sun by at one time slightly approaching and at another time slightly receding causes a moderate variation of temperature … And by bending its course now towards the north and now towards the south the sun causes summers and winters and the two seasons of which one follows the waning of winter and the other that of summer. Thus from the changes of the four seasons are derived the origins and causes of all the creatures which come into existence on land and in the sea. (Cic. ND 2.49, trans. Rackham) The sun, chief of the celestial bodies, is here depicted as causes of regularity (aequabilitas), that is, of harmony. And the first place where its effects are directly felt is on the earth, where it creates the conditions for life and its maintenance. Ultimately, the sun is to be held responsible for the generation of all the living species. Once we have seen the implications of Cleanthes’ solar theology, namely, that it makes the earth a central object of concern for divine providence,

Cleanthes on providence  45 it is not difficult to understand Cleanthes’ famous attack on Aristarchus’ heliocentric hypothesis: T2-10 Cleanthes thought that the Greeks ought to lay an action for impiety against Aristarchus the Samian on the ground that he was disturbing the hearth (τὴν ἑστίαν) of the world because he sought to save the phenomena by assuming that the heaven is at rest while the earth is revolving along the ecliptic and at the same time is rotating about its own axis. (Plut. Fac. 923A = SVF 1.500, trans. Cherniss) That Cleanthes would want charges to be brought against Aristarchus for impiety is perfectly understandable given the close connection found in him between cosmology and providence. Aristarchus’ hypothesis, which was symmetrically opposite to Cleanthes’ account, must have been seen as a negation of providence by Cleanthes,32 for whom the earth was nothing but the very ‘hearth’ (hestia) of the world,33 and therefore also the centre of attention of divine providence.

3 The maintenance and destruction of the cosmic order 3.1 The importance of earthly water The Stoics hold that the world is the dwelling place of ‘humans and gods’,34 which means that everything that can be useful in it is ultimately for humans and gods. Now, the earth plays a central role in that respect: the hearthearth has been provided with everything that is needed not only for human beings but for gods as well. An excellent example of that is the utility of water. To understand how important water (found on earth only) is for the preservation of the whole cosmos, we need to have a more precise grasp of Stoic cosmogony. Zeno describes the generation of the cosmos in two phases. First, the primeval fire turns itself into air and then to water. At this point, D. E. Hahm says, ‘nothing but a mass of water would be visible to an observer’.35 But, in reality, the primeval fire, which is god, has not disappeared, but rather acts from within water. The compound the two make is comparable to a seed: Just as the sperm is enveloped in the seminal fluid, so god, who is the seminal principle of the world (σπερματικὸν λόγον… τοῦ κόσμου), stays behind as such in the moisture (ὑπολείπεσθαι ἐν τῷ ὑγρῷ), making matter serviceable to himself for the successive stages of creation.36 Only then, from that god-dwelling water, are the four elements generated.37 These elements are found (together or in isolation) not only in earthly living

46  Chapter 2 beings but also in everything in the world, including the gods (who are made of fire or aether). While earthly water is obviously essential for the development and preservation of life of the human beings, it is also important for the gods: T2-11 For this reason they say that the spread sea is for the benefice of humans and gods (extensum mare hominum deorumque commodo). Indeed, it is thus provided, in general, for the gods, they say: the sun, which is held by some to be the ruler (rectorem) on account of the fact that it dispenses largely what is necessary, feeds itself, they say, on the sea (ex mari… nutritur); it swallows, by attracting them to him, the purest parts of the humid element. It is shown, among other things, by the fact that, depending on the seasons of the year, the solar course goes in contrary directions: in summer, towards the tropic of Cancer; in winter, towards the tropic of Capricorn. Indeed, the course of the sun never trespasses these eternal boundaries. The fixed stars, themselves nourishing, also feed themselves by attracting to them pure humidity out of air; for, a small portion of that humidity regularly cools itself and is sent back on earth where it takes the form of water, which we use to call ‘dew’. (Phil. Prov. 2.64; Latin translation by J.B. Aucher, edited by M. Hadas-Lebel) The text is clearly influenced by Cleanthes. Indeed, we know from other passages38 that Cleanthes claimed that the sun is nourished by the vapour from the ocean and that its path on the ecliptic (between the Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn) is to be explained by an equatorial ocean. Since Cleanthes also recognized the stars to be fiery,39 he must have explained similarly how they are nourished, that is, by attracting the humidity of the earth. The existence of the earth, whose position is at the centre of the world, appears therefore to be of absolute importance for the maintenance of the whole cosmos. A passage in Seneca is worth quoting here: T2-12 Earth is both part and matter of the world. I do not think you will ask why it is a part, unless you ask why the heavens are a part: because, of course, the universe cannot exist without the one any more than without the other, because the universe contains the things of which since from it nourishment is apportioned to all the animals, all the plants, all the heavenly bodies (alimenta omnibus animalibus, omnibus satis, omnibus stellis diuiduntur); from it provision is made for each thing individually and for the world itself with all its numerous demands; it produces nourishment for all those heavenly bodies, which are so energetic, so eager, by day and night, in both their activity and their grazing (ut in opere ita in pastu). All things by nature seize enough for their nourishment, and the world has appropriated as much as it needed for eternity. I shall

Cleanthes on providence  47 offer you a tiny illustration of this important fact: eggs contain enough liquid to generate the creature that will emerge. (Sen. NQ 2.5, trans. Hine) Ultimately, as this passage shows it clearly, it is divine providence that explains why the earth is at the centre of the cosmos and contains everything that animals, including planets and stars, need for their own maintenance. The final illustration of eggs containing enough liquid to generate the animal that will emerge from them brings to mind Zeno’s comparison of pre-elemental water to a seed that in itself contains the reason (λόγος) in accordance with which the whole world will be generated.40 Since the Stoic cosmos is an animal, it is also an integrated whole: its parts are not separable, but rather intrinsically connected to each other. In a cosmos thus conceived, none of the parts are fully self-sufficient,41 and this explains the internal movements and changes it is affected with. These movements are teleologically oriented, and we have seen that what they seek to achieve is first of all the maintenance of the world itself (T1-5). For that, it is essential that the earth is preserved since it is the hearth of the world (T2-10) and it contains everything that is needed for the nourishment of all animals. This explains, in Cleanthes, why the earth receives particular care and attention from the sun (T2-9), which is itself the commanding faculty of the cosmic soul, that is, the seat of reason and intelligence. But the sun, being a part of the world, is not self-sufficient either. Being made of fire, it necessarily needs some fuel, which is found on earth only: T2-13 [Cotta, spokesperson of the sceptical Academy:] Moreover, do you [i.e. the Stoics] not also hold that all fire (omnem ignem) requires fuel (pastus indigere), and cannot possibly endure unless it is fed (nec permanere ullo modo posse nisi alatur)? And that the sun, moon and other heavenly bodies draw sustenance in some cases from bodies of fresh water and in other cases from the sea? This is the reason given by Cleanthes to explain why ‘The sun turns back, not farther doth proceed, upon his summer curve,’ and upon his winter one likewise; it is that he may not travel too far away from his food. (Cic. ND 3.37 = SVF 1.501, trans. Rackham) ‘All fire requires fuel’, says Cotta. ‘All’ must include the two types of fire originally distinguished by Zeno (T1-3): the essentially destructive fire that feeds on what it destroys, and the essentially energizing and life-bearing fire responsible for growth and preservation. The same distinction was accepted and taken up by Cleanthes, as can be seen from the following passage of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, book 2 (which T2-13 appears to allude to): T2-14 ‘Therefore,’ Cleanthes proceeds, ‘since the sun is made of fire, and is nourished by the vapours exhaled from the ocean (Oceanique alatur

48  Chapter 2 umoribus) because no fire could continue to exist without sustenance of some sort (nulla ignis sine pastu aliquo posset permanere), it follows that it resembles (similis sit) either that fire which we employ in ordinary life or that which is contained in the bodies of living creatures. Now our ordinary fire that serves the needs of daily life is destructive and consumes everything (confector est et consumptor omnium), and also wherever it spreads it routs and scatters everything. On the other hand, the fire of the body is the glow of life and health; it is the universal preservative (omnia conseruat), fostering growth (auget), sustaining (sustinet), bestowing sensation (sensuque adficit).’ He therefore maintains that there can be no doubts which of the two kinds of fire the sun resembles, for the sun also causes all things to flourish and to bring forth increase, each after its kind. Hence since the sun resembles those fires which are contained in the bodies of living creatures, the sun also must be alive; and so too the other heavenly bodies, since they have their origin in the fiery heat of heaven that is entitled the aether or sky. (Cic. ND 2.40–41 = SVF 1.504, trans. Rackham, slightly adapted) For Cleanthes, while the sun’s fire clearly resembles the sustaining type of fire, it nevertheless needs to feed, feeding being a trait common to all sorts of fires. Ultimately, it is because the sun needs to feed itself that the world shall little by little desiccate and finally be destroyed. Indeed, as we have seen in T2-11, each time some evaporation is caused as a result of the action of the sun (and of the stars), only a portion of the humidity lands back on the earth (it is what humans call ‘dew’, says Philo). So while the feeding on the sea or, generally, on the humidity of the earth by the sun is essential for it to be able to carry on its providential function of harmonizing the earth and maintaining its order, it is also, at the same time, at the origin of the desiccation that will eventually destroy the earth and, with it, everything else in the cosmos (since everything else depends on the earth for its sustenance). The final stage of desiccation is what Cleanthes and the Stoics in general call ἐκπύρωσις or conflagration, when everything in the world becomes fiery. 3.2 Cleanthes and Zeno on cosmic ekpurôsis It has been argued by Roberto Salles42 that Cleanthes’ explanation of the mechanism that leads the world’s order to be destroyed was original to him. According to this interpreter, Cleanthes departed from Zeno in that, first, the latter does not, in any of our fragments, ‘attribute to the fire of the stars any effect that serves to define his undesigning fire’, and, second, Cleanthes ‘does attribute to the sun’s fire a power that is characteristic of Zeno’s undesigning fire, as distinct from the fire of the stars’.43 As a consequence, Salles thinks that Cleanthes found himself in a predicament that was unknown to Zeno, namely, the necessity to explain the paradoxical thought that the sun apparently has contrary powers: on the one hand, it is a source of

Cleanthes on providence  49 nourishment, while on the other, because it needs fuels, it is cause of destruction. However, I do not think that there is sufficient evidence in our sources to support this interpretation. In fact, what Zeno is reported to claim in T1-3 and what Cleanthes states in T2-14 are basically the same.44 In both texts, the two sorts of fire are presented as opposed types or categories45: – –

the non-craftsmanlike fire ‘converts its food into itself’ (Zeno); is ‘destructive and consumes everything’ (Cleanthes) the craftsmanlike fire, on the contrary, is ‘responsible for growth and preservation’ (Zeno); is ‘the universal preservative, fostering growth, sustaining, bestowing sensation’ (Cleanthes)

Once these categories have been set out, one is asked to compare the attributes of heavenly bodies of the two types of fire and determine which they resemble the most.46 (Only T2-14 talks of similarity, but nothing in T1-3 prevents us from seeing it implied there too.) Cleanthes, who is concerned principally with the sun, but in fact also finally includes the other heavenly bodies, says that the sun clearly resembles the craftsmanlike fire as exemplified in the heat we find in the bodies of living beings. From that, he must have concluded that the sun ‘has the fieriness of craftsmanlike fire’, since he concludes that the sun is a living being. Zeno, who is concerned with every heavenly body, says that they ‘have the fieriness of craftsmanlike fire’. This must be understood as the conclusion he reaches after making his comparison: since the heavenly bodies clearly resemble the craftsmanlike type of fire, then one must conclude that they have the same sort of fieriness. In my interpretation, both Zeno and Cleanthes arrived at the identical conclusion that the heavenly bodies have the fieriness of the craftsmanlike fire after comparing them to opposite types or categories of fires. In each account, the categories are defined in largely identical terms: Cleanthes appropriates them from Zeno without change. In that respect, I do not think that it is correct to say that Cleanthes attributes to the sun’s fire ‘a power that is characteristic of Zeno’s undesigning fire’.47 Besides the fact that this is not what Cleanthes does (more on this shortly), there is no reason for suggesting that Zeno’s two categories of fire are differently defined in Cleanthes’ account. Yet, can we still say that Cleanthes attributes to the sun’s fire a power that is characteristic of the destructive type of fire? That cannot be a correct rendering of his thought, for Cleanthes explicitly bases his conclusion on a comparison: he says that the sun clearly resembles the craftsmanlike fire. There is no way he could coherently hold this if, as Salles argues, he also attributes to the sun’s fire a power that is characteristic of the ‘undesigning fire’. If we want to save Cleanthes from such a gross incoherence, we must assume that the feeding he ascribes to the sun is not comparable to the feeding that he attributes to the destructive type of fire. We can see how that is so if we remember what initially drove the distinction between the two types of fire. A craftsmanlike fire is a fire that is, like arts and crafts, essentially

50  Chapter 2 teleological (see T1-2): it aims at some good, follows a rational path48 and produces order. A non-craftsmanlike fire is, on the contrary, blind to any sort of telos. This fire cannot bring about order, and is therefore essentially destructive. If the sun feeds itself and is bound, but only in a very remote future (see infra T4-5), to bring about the world’s destruction, this in no way prevents us from seeing that it is similar to the craftsmanlike fire. Indeed, the sun’s nourishment is teleologically explained: it happens for the sake of the preservation of the whole world. The destruction of the world it eventually leads to is only an unintentional ‘by-product’ of it.49 Not only did Cleanthes therefore not depart from Zeno in his account of fire, but his claim that the sun nourishes itself and that it is because of this that the whole world will eventually be consumed by fire seems to have already been advocated by Zeno himself. Jaap Mansfeld already noted this in 1979.50 I shall here recall two important texts cited by Mansfeld. The first one is an etymology of Helios: T2-15 [The sun (ἥλιος) is named after ‘salt’ (ἅλα) and ‘of the sea’ (ἅλιος).] The sun is, according to Zeno the Stoic, an intelligent fire that is ignited by the exhalation of the sea (ἄναμμα νοερὸν ἐκ τοῦ θαλάσσης ). (Etymologicum Gudianum s.v. ἥλιος = SVF 1.121) The second text is the only fragment of Zeno we possess where the conflagration is explained in physical terms51: T2-16 [Zeno says:] ‘The universe will be totally set on fire (τὸ πᾶν ἐκπυρωθήσεται). Everything which burns , having it burns, shall burn up the whole of it (πᾶν τὸ καῖον ἔχον καύσῃ ὅλον καύσει). The sun is fire (ὁ ἥλιος πῦρ ἐστιν) – shall it not, then, burn up what it has? (ὃ ἔχει οὐ καύσει;)’; which entailed, as he believed, that ‘the universe would be totally consumed by fire (τὸ πᾶν ἐκπυρωθήσεσθαι)’. (Alex. Lyc. Man. 12.19.2 ff., trans. Mansfeld 1979, adapted) Combined, the two texts are evidence that Zeno had already adopted the view that the sun, which is said in T1-3 to be ‘intelligent and thoughtful’ (νοερὸν καὶ φρόνιμον) and to have ‘the fieriness of craftsmanlike fire’, feeds on the ocean and that, like any fire, it has the capacity to consume all of its fuel. Apparently nothing, therefore, would prevent the world, since it is ‘burnt’ (or heated) by the sun, from eventually being completely consumed by the sun. Even if Cleanthes does not appear to have departed from Zeno’s doctrine of fire and the peculiar mechanism by which the world is progressively led to its fiery destruction, the account these Stoics gave of divine providence may have appeared unsatisfactory, and even incoherent, to their critics. Indeed, if god’s providence is concerned with the maintenance of the world as a whole (T1-5), how is it that the world not only eventually collapses, but that it collapses through the very means that has been set by god to guarantee its

Cleanthes on providence  51 conservation, i.e. the sun’s heat? How can such an apparently bad outcome result from such good intentions? This issue, which calls into question god’s theodicy,52 had to be addressed by the Stoics, and we have evidence that Chrysippus did so in his treatise On Providence, as we shall see in Chapter 3.

4 Cleanthes’ disagreement with Zeno’s theodicy Although Cleanthes’ main purpose was to consolidate Zeno’s doctrines in the face of challenges, both internal and external, at least one aspect of his theodicy is clearly at odds with that of Zeno. We have seen (T1-1, with commentary) that Zeno’s idea that providence and fate are different names for god has two major implications: first, that everything that happens according to providence does so also according to fate; second, that everything that happens according to fate does so also according to providence. This second implication is a potentially challenging one since it means that whatever happens in the world, including evil actions by human beings, can be traced back to god and his providence. But how can one make a benevolent and caring god responsible for evil? According to the late Platonist Calcidius,53 Cleanthes refused this second implication: T2-17 Thus some believe it to be an assumption that there is a difference between providence and fate, the reality being that they are one. For providence will be god’s will (dei… uoluntatem), and furthermore his will is the series of causes (seriem… causarum). In virtue of being his will it is providence. In virtue of also being the series of causes it gets the additional name ‘fate’. Consequently everything in accordance with fate is also the product of providence, and likewise everything in accordance with providence is the product of fate. That is Chrysippus’ view. But others, like Cleanthes, while holding the dictates of providence to come about also by fate, allow things which come about by fate ( fataliter) not to be the product of providence (ex prouidentia). (Calc. In Tim. 144 = SVF 2.933 and 54U L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) Even if Calcidius contrasts Cleanthes’ views with that of Chrysippus, while making no mention of Zeno, the basis of their disagreement is clearly Zeno’s doctrine that providence and fate refer to one and the same thing, namely, god. While Chrysippus followed Zeno’s thought closely (we shall see how in Chapter 3), Cleanthes defied his master, saying that ‘(some) of the things that come about by fate’ are not the product of providence. There is little doubt that these things correspond to the evils that are found in the world and that befall human beings. Indeed, this is precisely what Cleanthes explains in the immediate context of T2-2, to which we must now return and attempt to better understand: T2-18 (including 2-2) [a] No deed is done on earth, god, without your offices, nor in the divine ethereal vault of heaven, nor at sea, save what bad

52  Chapter 2 people do in their folly (πλὴν ὁπόσα ῥέζουσι κακοὶ σφετέραισιν ἀνοίαις). [b] But you know how to make things crooked straight and to order things that lack order. Things unloved are dear to you. For you have so welded into one all things good and bad that they all share in a single everlasting reason. [c] It is shunned and neglected by the bad among mortal people, the wretched, who ever yearn for the possession of goods yet neither see nor hear god’s universal law (οὔτ’ ἐσορῶσι θεοῦ κοινὸν νόμον οὔτε κλύουσιν), by obeying which they could lead a good life assisted by intelligence (ᾧ κεν πειθόμενοι σὺν νῷ βίον ἐσθλὸν ἔχοιεν). (Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus apud Stob. Ecl. 1.26.4–14 = SVF 1.537 and 54I L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) When Cleanthes states [b] that god is so powerful that he can ‘weld into one’, that is, harmonize, ‘all things good and bad’, he means that the existence of evils in the world is not a threat to the harmony and perfection of the world as a whole. In fact, the good and bad actions which are found amongst human beings are to be understood in relation to the single everlasting (right) reason that pervades the cosmos, which is none other than a (universal) law [c]: abiding by this law results in good actions, while bad actions result from disobeying it. As a law, god’s reason is also in charge of just retribution: those people who act according to reason will achieve happiness, while those who do not will live a wretched life. Finally, the existence of such a law is testimony to god’s providential care for human beings: it exists for the benefit of humankind, as a way to lead it towards happiness. So far, everything that Cleanthes holds is fully compatible with, and probably influenced to a large extent by, Zeno’s philosophy. The only place where he differs from him (in [a]) is precisely the one reported by Calcidius (T2-17): it is not the case, says Cleanthes, that everything that happens in the world happens because of god. He does not explain why exactly that is so, but it appears quite clearly that Cleanthes, like Plato in the Republic54 and the Timaeus,55 wants god to remain ἀναίτιος: not responsible for the evils of the world, which must themselves be understood as the products of human folly. However, while in the passages from Plato the point is that humans are responsible for what they do,56 Cleanthes instead focuses on actions that are evil because they are done due to ignorance. It is likely, therefore, that his point is that one cannot hold god responsible for things that happen for lack of intelligence, since god is nothing but (right) reason. God’s intelligence makes him incapable of producing evils, and so we should not hold him responsible for them. We should not underestimate what seems at first sight only a small departure from Zeno. Even if Cleanthes does not see the restriction he puts on god’s providence as implying a limitation on god’s power, it is undeniable that, contrary to Zeno, he is not in a position to claim that everything happens in the world ‘according to god’s will’ (T2-17). In other words, god (and

Cleanthes on providence  53 his inseparable providence) is no longer the first and sole causal principle that can explain all that happens. Therefore, by steering away from Zeno’s indubitably bold doctrine, Cleanthes also weakens one of the most important tenets of the Stoa: the supremacy of god and reason. We will return to this issue in Chapter 3, in which we will examine how Chrysippus attempted to revive Zeno’s position.

5 God’s care for human beings 5.1 All sins are equal In this chapter, we have seen that Cleanthes has a lot to say about how the world is providentially governed, but we have not found much in the extant fragments about how he saw god as a benevolent being caring for humans. The last passage (T2-18), though, shows clearly that he looked at god or god’s reason (which are one and the same) as setting the rules of the good life for humans. In addition to this passage, there is another important fragment that can shed some further light on the way Cleanthes looked at god’s providence. It is found in Stobaeus’ anthology and presented as an argument for the view that, according to the Stoics, there are no intermediary between virtue and vice: T2-19 There is no intermediary between virtue and vice. For all human beings have received, from nature, starting points towards virtue (Πάντας γὰρ ἀνθρώπους ἀφορμὰς ἔχειν ἐκ φύσεως πρὸς ἀρετήν), and they present, as it were, the mesure of a half-iambic line, according to Cleanthes (καὶ οἱονεὶ τὸν τῶν ἡμιαμβείων λόγον ἔχειν, κατὰ Κλεάνθην): from there comes the fact that if they are incomplete they are morally inferior (ἀτελεῖς μὲν ὄντας εἶναι φαύλους), while if they are complete they are morally good (τελειωθέντας δὲ σπουδαίους). They (i.e. the Stoics) also say that the sage does everything in accordance with all the virtues. For every action of his is complete (τελείαν) and that is also why he lacks none of the virtues. (Stob. Ecl. 2.65.7–14 = SVF 1.566 and 61L L.-S., trans. Pomeroy, adapted) Cleanthes is committed to the view that there is no intermediary between vice and virtue,57 which is another way of saying that all moral mistakes (ἁμαρτήματα) are equal, that is, equally bad, which is a standard doctrine in Stoicism.58 When an aspiring philosopher starts moving from vice towards virtue, even though the Stoics are happy to call him (or her) a προκόπτων (in Latin, progrediens or proficiens), ‘one who makes progress’,59 they insist that he is not in some sort of intermediary state and that there is nothing in-between vice and virtue. As shown by the words they used to call those aspiring philosophers, the Stoics looked at becoming virtuous as a process,

54  Chapter 2 and being virtuous as the telos of that process. While it is fair to say that one is advancing towards the telos, the telos itself is not a part of the process, but its fulfilment and thus also its end. The Stoics employed various striking images to make this point, saying that, if the telos is like getting to Canopus (an important place of pilgrimage in antiquity), then ‘he who is a hundred stades from Canopus and he who is one stade away are equally not in Canopus’,60 or if it is like having one’s head above water and being able to breathe again, then ‘when submerged in water one can no more breathe if one is just below the surface and on the verge of getting out, than one can in the depths’.61 Cleanthes’ account follows a similar pattern, explaining that there is no intermediary between vice and virtue because virtue is a complete and perfect state, while progress towards virtue is a process, which, by definition, is incomplete and imperfect. In order to show this, he presents the view that all human beings have received ‘starting points towards virtue’ from nature. As such, human beings are analogous, in terms of measure or ratio, to a ‘half-iambic line’: exactly as a half-iambic line is incomplete compared to a full-iambic line, human beings are initially all incomplete and imperfect because they possess only starting points towards virtue and therefore are not fully developed virtuous human beings. If they fail to reach their telos, even after having made progress, the state they are into will not be fundamentally different from that of those starting points. That is why they will have to be called ‘φαῦλοι’, a difficult word to render and which I chose here to translate by ‘morally inferior’ rather than simply ‘bad’ (even though, for a Stoic, the latter is implied by the former). The φαῦλος is the common man, a man who is either governed by morally dubious principles or who is simply not always acting according to morally right principles. Opposite to him is the morally good person or σπουδαῖος (the sage), a superior and truly exceptional human being whose achievements are just not comparable to those of any other person, no matter how much that person has progressed. In the end, it is this exceptionality of the σπουδαῖος that makes any ‘intermediary’ stage impossible between vice and virtue, and thus also reduces all moral mistakes to one single category. In Stoicism, every human being has the ability do the right thing, but only the sage will do it for the right reason and because of the right and perfect state of mind. That is why they say that an appropriate action or καθῆκον (officium, in Latin) is common to all human beings – since even non-sages can perform it – but that it is only in sages that it can be called a ‘right action’ or κατόρθωμα.62 The last part of the passage above alludes to that perfect state of sagehood and the completeness it entails: when a sage acts and performs, for instance, a courageous action, he acts not only in accordance with the virtue of courage but also in accordance with all the cardinal virtues; for being virtuous implies the possession of all the virtues, and one who would act courageously while still being intemperant or unjust could not be rightly called virtuous and morally good.

Cleanthes on providence  55 5.2 The starting points towards virtue In Cleanthes’ account of the equality of all sins, one particular notion deserves a closer look, as it may help us reach a better understanding of how Cleanthes looked at god’s care for human beings: the starting points. The Greek word behind ‘starting points’ is ἀφορμαί, a word of great significance in Stoicism,63 as we will see. In non-philosophical contexts, ἀφορμή can refer to the starting point or origin of a process of some sort, which reflects its etymology: apo + hormaô, to spring from. But the word also often refers to the idea of means and resources necessary for that process to be carried out successfully.64 Understood as resources, the word brings a teleological dimension to the process of which the ἀφορμαί are the starting points, often rendered in Greek by the preposition πρός (or εἰς), as in our T2-19. The expression ‘starting points’, often used to render ἀφορμαί in a Stoic context65 and that I have adopted myself, does not however fully render the meaning of ἀφορμαί in the cited passage and in other similar ones (see especially T4-12). The fact that those starting points have been provided to human beings by nature for the fulfilment of a happy life implies that they are meant not just as starting points but as useful resources given by a benevolent nature, namely god. When human beings are born, the Stoics say they do not find themselves helpless and abandonned (contrary to some ancient accounts of the primary condition of humans, such as Protagoras’; see Chapter 4, section 5): their birth has been carefully planned by a provident god who has made sure that they have the necessary resources for a thriving and happy life. The idea of some form of innate resources provided by god to human beings is found in many later Stoic thinkers: Chrysippus,66 Panaetius,67 Seneca,68 Musonius Rufus,69 Epictetus70 and Marcus Aurelius.71 In those authors, or in thinkers who have been influenced by Stoicism (like Cicero, see infra T2-23), ἀφορμαί are sometimes depicted as ‘sparkles’ or ‘seeds’.72 Both images convey the idea that ἀφορμαί are the starting points of a process, but the seed image has the specificity of showing that ἀφορμαί are not just the beginning of a process, but what governs it and drives it towards a particular goal. In Seneca,73 both images are used to show that human beings have been endowed with a mind that is innately directed towards virtue, but that needs some form of external triggering, in the form of admonitions, to start deploying itself: T2-20a Such sayings [‘Fortune favors the brave’, ‘The coward is his own enemy’] don’t require a defense attorney. They have an immediate impact on our feelings, and are helpful because our nature is deploying its very own force (natura uim suam exercente). Our minds contain the seeds of everything honorable (Omnium honestarum rerum semina animi gerunt), and these are activated by admonitions (admonitione excitantur), just as a spark (scintilla) fanned by a slight breeze blossoms into flame. Virtue is roused (erigitur) by a touch, a nudge. (Sen. Ep. 94.28–29, trans. Graver and Long)

56  Chapter 2 T2-20b It is easy to rouse a listener and make him desire what is right (concitare ad cupidinem recti), for nature has given everyone the foundations and seeds of the virtues (omnibus enim natura fundamenta dedit semenque uirtutum). We are all born for such things (Omnes ad omnia ista nati sumus); and when someone provides a stimulus, the good awakens in our minds as if from sleep (tunc illa animi bona ueluti sopita excitantur). (Sen. Ep. 108.8, trans. Graver and Long) Like the other Stoics, Seneca believes that human beings have not been endowed with virtues as such, but with the capacity of becoming virtuous,74 through education and learning (see infra Chapter 5, section 5.1 and Chapter 6, section 2), and he defends the view (against Aristo of Chios) that admonitions and, in general, precepts play an important part in the education of the proficiens.75 In the two passages just quoted, Seneca relies on the Chrysippean distinction of two types of causes (on which see infra T10-20) to explain how the ἀφορμαί are being activated. In an attempt to show that fate does not deprive human beings of their responsibility, Chrysippus introduced an important distinction between an internal cause (called ‘complete and primary’, perfecta et principalis) and an external, triggering cause (called ‘proximate’, proxima): for an action to be performed, an impulse (ὁρμή) must be at work, but an impulse cannot be set into motion without an impression (φαντασία) caused by some external object. Although both the impulse and the impression can be called ‘causes’, Chrysippus insisted that only the internal impulses are to be counted as causes in the complete and perfect sense. He compared the interaction between impulse and impression to the setting in motion of a cylinder: even if a cylinderic stone cannot start rolling without an initial external push, the stone does not roll because it has been pushed, but because of its own (cylindrical) nature and shape.76 In Seneca’s passages, the complete and primary cause is clearly human nature, which, he says, has its own force (cf. uim sua). Indeed, he insists that, even though our mind needs some form of external triggering (the admonitions), the way it reacts is governed by its very nature, that is, by the fact that it possesses innate seeds towards virtue. He sees evidence of it in the fact that it is ‘easy to rouse a listener and make him desire what is right’. The way Seneca presents the relationship between the ἀφορμαί and the external admonitions shows that he takes ἀφορμαί to be causes (in the strong sense of the term). This is important because it points to the fact that ἀφορμαί are not simply the beginning of a process, but what governs it and is its true cause. The Stoic use of the seed image in relation to nature confirms it: T2-21 Nature is a state that moves from itself, which, in accordance with seminal principles (κατὰ σπερματικοὺς λόγους), leads to completion and maintains the things that come from it at determinate times, and continues to perform the actions from which they came to light. (D.L. 7.148 = SVF 2.1132 and 43A2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted)

Cleanthes on providence  57 A seed is not simply the first state of a future being, but what contains the logoi in accordance with which it develops itself and achieves completion and self-maintenance. In the case of the human nature, what kind of motions do ἀφορμαί govern? The Stoics recognized two sorts of primary impulses in humans (see T4-13a-c, with commentary). First, they hold that all human beings have, at birth, an impulse to act in a way that will benefit and preserve their nature (see T9-1). Their doctrine of οἰκείωσις or familiarization states that the ‘first impulse’ of a human being is directed towards self-conservation. They also single out another all-important natural impulse, the affection or love of parents for their children,77 presenting that affection as the starting point78 from which the ‘common society of the human kind’ is derived (see T7-29). Although those two sorts of impulses seem opposite (one is self- centred, while the other is directed at the well-being of others), the Stoics maintained that they are both expressions of a ‘κατὰ φύσιν’ life,79 and defended the view that seeking after one’s own advantage is not contrary to morality and justice (see infra Chapter 10, section 3.2). Therefore, even if ἀφορμαί are starting points or seeds of virtue, one should not reduce their power and reach to the sole other-directed impulses, which are active only from adulthood onwards.80 It must be the case that they also govern the ‘first impulses’ of humans, those directed towards self-conservation,81 and which the Stoics described as innate.82 Even if there is a close connection between ἀφορμαί and the two types of primary impulses we have briefly discussed, ἀφορμαί should not be confused with impulses. Ἀφορμαί are not ὁρμαί but the starting points (ἀπό) of ὁρμαί. Ἀφορμαί are what explain and govern those primary types of impulses. It is because human beings have been endowed with those starting points and resources that they naturally tend to care about themselves as well as their children and, eventually, about other human beings. Important studies by Dominic Scott, Matt Jackson-McCabe83 and Ilsetraut Hadot have convincingly shown that the Stoics looked at ἀφορμαί as innate preconceptions (προλήψεις) dealing with value and morality.84 Jackson-McCabe, in particular, has, in my opinion, clearly shown that the doctrine of οἰκείωσις – which states that, at birth, a human being recognizes himself as familiar and dear – implies the pre-existence of innate conceptions of what is familiar or not, of what is advantageous or not and so forth. Finally, we have evidence that the doctrine of innate preconceptions is not the product of a later development in Stoicism, but was already defended by Chrysippus.85 5.3 Cleanthes and Chrysippus on aphormai Given the state of our extant evidence, it is not possible to know how much of this doctrine of ἀφορμαί was already endorsed by Cleanthes. But a comparison between what we learn in T2-19 and another important piece of evidence regarding, this time, Chrysippus’ position about ἀφορμαί suggests that the two Stoics held different views.

58  Chapter 2 Chrysippus’ own take on ἀφορμαί is expressed in a passage where he wants to show that evils do not originate in the human nature: T2-22 The rational animal is perverted (διαστρέφεσθαι), sometimes because of the persuasiveness of external objects, sometimes because of the influence of companions. For the starting points provided by nature are unperverted (ἡ φύσις ἀφορμὰς δίδωσιν ἀδιαστρόφους). (D.L. 7.89 = SVF 3.228) This is an important passage to which we will have other occasions to return and further discuss (see Chapter 3, section 3.2, and Chapter 7, section 1.2). For now, what matters is to get the gist of it. Chrysippus is defending the view that human beings have been initially endowed with a particular nature that contains unperverted ἀφορμαί. If human beings fail to develop virtues, it is only because of perverting influences coming from outside their nature. A text of Cicero, clearly based on Chrysippus’ doctrine, helps us understand the importance of the power Chrysippus granted nature with: T2-23 If nature had made us such beings as would be able to see and comprehend that same nature, and to accomplish our life’s journey under its excellent guidance, then we would have no need for any ph ilosophical teaching (rationem ac doctrinam). But what nature has in fact given us (nobis dedit) are only the tiniest sparks (paruulos… igniculos), which we, perverted as we are by our wrongful customs and beliefs (malis moribus opinionibusque deprauati), quickly put out again. Then nowhere can our natural light (naturae lumen) be seen. Seeds of the virtues are innate in our minds (ingeniis nostris semina innata uirtutum), and if they were allowed to mature, nature itself would lead us to perfect happiness (ipsa nos ad beatam uitam natura perduceret). (Cic. Tusc. 3.2, trans. Graver 2002, adapted) Cicero is here advocating the Stoic view that nature, or god, did not endow human beings with virtues as such, but with sparks and seeds of virtues. Were virtues bestowed from the start, he says, humans would not need the teachings of philosophy. Still, according to the passage itself, the reason why philosophy exists and is made necessary has more to do with the failing to grow of the seeds of virtue (Chrysippus’ ἀφορμαί), and this, in turn, is the result of human beings getting perverted (deprauati) by wrongful customs (probably a reference to what Chrysippus called the ‘influence of companions’) and beliefs (probably a reference to what he called the ‘persuasiveness of external objects’). Indeed, and this is important to note, were those seeds allowed to mature, ‘nature itself would lead us to perfect happiness’. This shows that there is not much difference, in the end, between the bestowing of virtues and the bestowing of seeds of virtues: in the first case, human beings would be born virtuous; in the second case, they would become so after the

Cleanthes on providence  59 maturing of the seeds. This helps us to understand how important the bestowing of the seeds of virtue to humans was for Chrysippus. The only real difference introduced by the fact that it is seeds of virtues and not virtues that have been bestowed is that seeds of virtue open up the possibility of external influences and perversion. But seeds themselves are ‘unperverted’ (T2-22), and, left to their own device, they would necessarily lead human beings towards a happy life.86 If we now return to Cleanthes and his account in T2-19, one cannot help but notice a rather striking difference. Rather than underscoring the power of ἀφορμαί and their unperverted nature, Cleanthes emphasizes their incomplete nature (they are like ‘half-iambic lines’) and the efforts human beings have to make for those ἀφορμαί to transform into actual virtues. Left to their own devices, ἀφορμαί would simply lead human beings to the inferior moral state of φαῦλοι. It is the responsibility of humans, Cleanthes seems to say, to act in the right way and follow god’s laws (T2-18) through the teachings of philosophy. Nowhere is it suggested that the reason why hu man beings have to act and start doing philosophy is because they have been perverted by external influences – influences that have made it impossible for them to see the light provided by the seeds of virtue. The only alleged reason is the very nature of ἀφορμαί: that they are, by definition, incomplete and thus also imperfect. Given what we have learned in the previous section concerning the disagreement between Cleanthes and Chrysippus with regard the question of theodicy (T2-17), the difference of accounts we are witnessing now does not really come as a surprise. We know that Cleanthes insisted that the evils of the world are not of god’s own making, but of human beings’ (T2-18). As for Chrysippus, we will see just below that he tried his best to prove that the very existence of evils in the world is not preventable, because it is impossible for the good to exist alone, without its opposite (see Chapter 3, section 2). It is not the case, however, that Chrysippus shielded humans from blame and responsibility, since, as we have already seen, he introduced a distinction between two types of causes meant to demonstrate that no matter how dependent on external impressions human beings are, they still bear the weight of responsibility. It is not impossible that he saw the perversion of human beings by external influences as something quite inevitable, the same way he did with the existence of evil. If that is the case, then the idea that ἀφορμαί, left to their own devices, would necessarily lead humans towards happiness is a purely hypothetical one, for, in reality, one will never be able to witness such a thing (but see T8-10). Still, it does show that Chrysippus intended to give more power to nature (hence to god) than Cleanthes, which is also consistent with his theodicy doctrine. All in all, what can we conclude about Cleanthes’ ἀφορμαί? From the little that we know, we can at least say that he recognized their existence, which by itself shows that he looked at god as being provident with regard to human beings. The fact that he insisted they were incomplete may suggest he wanted

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to limit god’s providence, possibly in order to prevent the objection that divine providence makes it impossible to understand the evils of the world. For, if Chrysippus was able to defend the bold idea that ἀφορμαί are (theoretically) powerful enough to lead human beings to perfect happiness, it is because he also at the same time had developed an explanation as to how the power of ἀφορμαί can be smothered by external influences. In other words, Chrysippus’ doctrines of ἀφορμαί and of διαστροφή are closely connected and in fact inseparable. If Cleanthes defended a milder view on ἀφορμαί, it may be because he did not have the διαστροφή doctrine at his disposal, since it is likely that it was Chrysippus who devised it for the first time.

Notes 1 See the clarification by Algra 2001. 2 Among Zeno’s disciples, three are reported by Diogenes Laertius (see 7.160–167) as having disagreed with Zeno and as having eventually departed the Stoa: Aristo of Chios, Herillos of Carthage and Dionysius of Heraclea. All of them wrote on ethics. As to Perseaus of Citium, although Cicero reports that he was interested in theology (see Cic. ND 1.38 = SVF 1.448), none of his writings listed in D.L. 7.36 are concerned with physics. 3 D.L. 7.160. On Aristo’s distinctive views, see Ioppolo 1980: 59–63. 4 Cic. ND 1.37 = SVF 1.378, translation by H. Rackham. 5 See Xen. Mem. 1.1.11–16. 6 See Cic. Tusc. 5.10. 7 Dorandi 1999: 50. 8 For a detailed commentary of this work, see now Thom 2005. 9 See D.L. 7.174–175 = SVF 1.481. 10 I am not arguing that Cleanthes ignored Epicurus altogether, but the fact that he directed his attack towards Democritus suggests that Epicureanism was probably not yet considered a major rival philosophical school. 11 See S.E. M 9.116–118 = 68B 164 D.-K. Plato’s clear allusion to this doctrine in Tim. 51e-53a shows that, although he acknowledges that matter can account for some sort of discrimination in the world, in particular its basic topography, that discrimination hardly qualifies as order properly understood. For a nuanced assessment of the relationship between Plato and Democritus, see Morel 2002. 12 Gregory 2007: 122. See also a more elaborate version of this explanation in Gregory 2000: 24 ff. See also infra n. 14. 13 On which see Ar. Phys. 2.4.196a24–35 = 68A 69 D.-K. 14 See the seminal article of Long 1975–1976. 15 Heraclitus is well known for his account of harmony as a unity of opposites. As G.S. Kirk (1954: 168) puts it, ‘[t]he idea that the natural world contains a harmonia of opposites, and that any concordance is a concordance between opposites, is certainly one which occurred to Heraclitus’. 16 In the Timaeus, it is explained that the soul is the result of an intelligent mixing of being, sameness and otherness and that the demiurge had to ‘harmonize by force (συναρμόττων βίᾳ) the nature of the other, hard to mix, with that of the same’ (Pl. Tim. 35a-b). In the Phaedo, Socrates claims that only the good (τὸ ἀγαθόν), which he takes to be immaterial and incorporeal, has the power to unite and maintain things together. The good, he says, possesses a ‘miraculous force (δαιμονίαν ἰσχύν)’, that is, a godlike force, and is the real and sole cause ‘of the binding together and of the maintenance (συνδεῖν καὶ συνέχειν) of everything’

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17

18 19

20

21 22 23

24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

33 34 35

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(Pl. Phd. 99c). An illustration of the binding force of the good is given in the Gorgias where Socrates explains that only art, because it is teleologically oriented, can produce order, and gives the example of craftsmen (δημιουργοί) at work: they do not proceed ‘by chance (οὐκ εἰκῇ)’ but aims at something good and because of that, they ‘compel things to fit and adapt with one another (προσαναγκάζει τὸ ἕτερον τῷ ἑτέρῳ πρέπον τε εἶναι καὶ ἁρμόττειν)’ (Pl. Gorg. 503d-e). Heraclitus D49 L.-M., trans. Laks and Most, adapted. Many other fragments insist on the essential unity of opposites: ‘God: day night, winter summer, war peace, satiety hunger’ (D48 L.-M.); ‘The name of the bow (biós) is life (bíos), but its work is death’ (D53 L.-M.). Trans. Laks and Most. See also infra T3-17c. It is generally agreed that the Stoic conception of tension (τόνος) was influenced by Heraclitus’ doctrine. See Long 1975–1976: 149 and n. 49 (for earlier references). See Long 1975–1976: 51, who writes that T2-2 is ‘an important modification of Heraclitus’ and that ‘the thought of Cleanthes is closely modelled on Heraclitus; but is not the same’ (my emphasis). It is worth noting that while part of Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus is included – in a section labelled ‘Stoic appropriations’ – amongst the fragments on Heraclitus collected in Lack and Most 2016 (R52 L.-M.), our T2-2 is not. The exceptional might of god is stressed by Cleanthes right at the beginning of his Hymn: ‘Most majestic of immortals, many-titled, ever omnipotent Zeus’ (l. 1), and then repeated a few lines later, where it is said that the whole cosmos ‘willingly submits to your [god] sway’. Translation by Long and Sedley. We may note here that Cleanthes was himself a professional wrestler before becoming a philosopher: see D.L. 7.168 = SVF 1.463. We shall return to that important topic in section 4 of this chapter. This is not completely spelled out in the text though. The whole passage is in fact pronounced by Balbus in a larger section of Cicero’s text, and a demonstration that fire is everywhere (in each of the four elements) follows immediately thereafter (ND 2.25–30). However, Cleanthes’ argument in T2-3 seems to be presented as complete since it ends with the conclusion that fire pervades everything in the world. Plato argued (Tim. 47c) that the planets do not err and that their movements are absolutely regular. See Gregory 1996: 466. See Cic. ND 2.40–42 = SVF 1.504. See also Cic. Luc. 126. We should however note that the passage is not presented, in Cicero, as an argument for the sun being the commanding faculty of the world, but more generally as a proof that celestial bodies are living gods. Bénatouïl 2005a: 214. Bénatouïl follows some ideas initially put forward by P. Boyancé (1966). See also Thom 2005: 78, n. 188. Sedley 2009: 209. D.L. 7.4 = SVF 1.41. Boyancé 1966: 168–169. Bénatouïl (2005a: 209–210) recalls that Aristarchus was a pupil of the Peripatetic Strato of Lampsacus, who is known for having endorsed a mechanistic and materialistic account of the world. According to Cicero, ‘he does not make use of divine activity for constructing the world’ (Cic. Luc. 121 = Strato fr. 32 Wehrli). It is plausible that Aristarchus’ heliocentricism was seen by Cleanthes as a development of this godless cosmology. The identification of the earth with Hestia was already made by Zeno. See Algra 2001 and Bénatouïl 2005a: 211. See Eus. PE 15.15.4–5 = SVF 2.528 and 67L L.-S., and Cic. ND 2.154 = SVF 2.1131. I discuss these texts in Chapters 6 (T6-22) and 10 (T10-3). Hahm 1997: 57.

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36 D.L. 7.136 = SVF 2.102 and 46B2 L.-S., translation by Long and Sedley. 37 See D.L. 7.136 = SVF 2.102 and 46B3 L.-S. and 7.142 = SVF 2.581; Hahm 1997: 57 ff. 38 See Cic. ND 2.40 = SVF 1.504 and ND 3.37 = SVF 1.501 (quoted in T2-13). As I. G. Kidd explains (1988: 458–461), the theory that the sun nourishes itself from the sea is probably pre-Aristotelian since Aristotle attacks it in Meteor. 354b35 ff. It was adopted into orthodox Stoicism as can be seen from D.L. 7.145. While Posidonius accepted it, he rejected, according to Kidd, the idea that the path of the sun is explained by an equatorial ocean (1988: 459–461). Cleomedes, on the other hand, criticized Posidonius and sided with the view that ‘the greatest part of the great sea underlies this latitude [i.e. the equator] in the most central position for the sustenance of the stars (εἰς τροφὴν τοῖς ἄστροις)’. Cleom. 1.4. 128–130 = Posidonius F210 E.-K., trans. Kidd. 39 See Cic. ND 2.40 = SVF 1.504. 40 See D.L. 7.136 = SVF 2.102 and 46B2 L.-S. 41 On this, see T10-25 with commentary. 42 Salles 2005. 43 Salles 2005: 65. 44 See Thom 2005: 77–78. 45 They are types in the sense that they refer to attributes or qualities (i.e. destructive versus preservative) considered more or less in abstraction from the things they are the attributes of. 46 This method may be compared to the one used by Plato in the Phaedo (79a ff.) and then applied in the Timaeus (27e ff.), where Plato starts by distinguishing between two opposite categories (the visible and the invisible) and then asks to which of the two the soul (in the Phaedo) or the model used by a perfect demiurge (in the Timaeus) most resembles. 47 Salles 2005: 65 (my italics). 48 See D.L. 7.156 = SVF 1.171 and 2.774: ὁδῷ βαδίζον. 49 I am anticipating the solution Chrysippus put forward in order to explain the necessity of bad or simply unfortunate events in the world. As we shall see (in T3-21), he distinguishes between nature’s (or god’s) primary intention (principale consilium) and the necessary consequences (events that happen κατὰ παρακολούθησιν) that follow upon that intention or will (see also T8-1, for that distinction in Marcus Aurelius). One should note, however, that Chrysippus does not resort to that distinction to explain ἐκπύρωσις since he maintains that, during the conflagration, the world does not actually die (see Chapter 3, section 1.4). 50 Mansfeld 1979: 146–151. 51 We have other texts that show that Zeno already held the doctrine of ἐκπύρωσις. See in particular Stob. Ecl. 1.171.2–5 = SVF 1.107 (trans. Mansfeld 1979): ‘Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus hold that the substance changes into fire as into a seed and that out of this seed the ordered universe is again constituted such as it was before’. 52 On the potential problem the cyclical conflagration of the world poses to divine providence, see Mansfeld 1979, Long 1985 and Reydams-Schils 1999: 77–78. 53 On this passage, see Dragona-Monachou 1973 (who argues that Calcidius or his source intentionally misrepresented Cleanthes’ views as unorthodox), and Thom 2005: 97–98. 54 Pl. Rep. 10.617e. 55 Pl. Tim. 42d. 56 See Plato’s emphasis on human beings’ choice in Rep. 617e: ‘The responsibility lies with the one who makes the choice; the god has none (αἰτία ἑλομένου· θεὸς ἀναίτιος)’. 57 See also D.L. 7.127 = SVF 3.536 and 61I L.-S. 58 See D.L. 7.120 = SVF 3.527.

Cleanthes on providence 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79

80

63

See Stob. Ecl. 5.906.18–907.5 = SVF 3.510 and 59I L.-S. D.L. 7.120 = SVF 3.527, trans. Hicks, adapted. Cic. Fin. 3.48 = SVF 3.530, trans. Woolf. See Stob. Ecl. 2.85.13–86.4 = SVF 3.494 and 59B L.-S. On the importance of that notion, see especially Scott 1995: 142–146 and I. Hadot 2014, 375–382. See e.g. Xen. Mem. 3.12.4 where the author speaks of endowing one’s children with enough ‘resources’ or ‘capital’ for life. It should be noted that the Stoics also used ἀφορμή in the sense of ‘repulsion’, as the opposite of ὁρμή. See e.g. Epict. D. 1.4.11. See infra T2-22. See infra T4-12. See infra T2-20a-b. Musonius Diss. 2, p. 7, 7–8, 2 Hense. See, for instance, Epict. D. 3.6.8–10, 3.24.1–3, 4.1.51 and 4.7.7. See M.A. Med. 9.1.5 and 9.42.9. This has been well shown by I. Hadot 2014. My attention has been drawn to those important passages after reading I. Hadot 2014. See Sen. Ep. 120.3 = 60E2 L.-S. (trans. Graver and Long): ‘Nature could not teach us this [i.e. the good]: what nature has given us is not knowledge (scientiam non dedit) but only seeds of knowledge (semina nobis scientiae dedit)’. See especially Sen. Ep. 120. See Cic. Fat. 39–43 = SVF 2.974 and 62C L.-S. See again infra T10-20, with commentary. On Chrysippus’ two types of cause and the image of the cylinder, see Koch 2011: 415–439. See D.L. 7.120 = SVF 3.731. See Cic. Fin. 3.62 = SVF 3.340 and 57F1 L.-S. (quoted in T7-29): a quo initio. The objects of the first impulses (corresponding to the category the Stoics calls ‘preferred indifferent’, προηγμένον ἀδιάφορον) are presented by the Stoics as being ‘in accordance with nature’ (κατὰ φύσιν), while their opposite (the objets of repulsion, a category called ‘dispreferred indifferent’, ἀποπροηγμένον ἀδιάφορον) are ‘contrary to nature’ (παρὰ φύσιν). See Stob. Ecl. 2.79.18–80.13 = SVF 3.140 and 58C L.-S. I cannot agree here with I. Hadot 2014: 392–393, who writes that these first postnatal impulses, the prôtai hormai, which characterize the first stage of oikeiôsis and which function solely for the conservation of oneself and the good use of one’s body, are common to men and animals and cannot easily be identified with Cleanthes’ aphormai pros aretên (…) which are not yet active at this stage. (My translation)

81 A confirmation of that is found in Cic. Fin. 4.46, trans. Woolf: ‘You [the Stoics] claim that there are starting points (initia) laid before us which are adapted and suited to our nature (apta et accommodata naturae), and that it is in selecting from among these that virtue may arise’. 82 The Stoics did their best to show the continuity existing between those primary impulses (directed at securing for oneself the possession of external goods) and the ones (other-directed) that are governed by right reason. A defense of the continuity between the two is found in Cato’s account of the telos in Cicero’s On Ends, book 3, where Cato explains that one should refrain from thinking that there are two different teloi or ends (cf. Cic. Fin. 3.22 = SVF 3.18, 3.497 and 64F L.-S.): the possession of external goods and the rational selection of those external goods. When a child has grown into a rational adult, the external goods

64

83 84

85 86

Chapter 2 (which are the objects of the first impulses) become matter for a rational selection (materia sapientiae, cf. Cic. Fin. 3.61 = 66G3 L.-S.), and only this rational selection is the telos. See Jackson-McCabe 2004. According to the interpretation of those three commentators, the Stoics distinguished between two sorts of preconceptions, one that is naturally produced through sense-perception and experience, and one that must be part of the resources a human being is endowed with at birth. The latter type is limited to morality (in the broad sense of the term) and explains why, even before the formation of reason, human beings are able to make assessments about themselves and the things that are advantageous to themselves. For moral preconception in Epictetus, see T7-13, with commentary. This is not acknowledged in the secondary literature I have consulted. Often, ἀφορμαί-related references are made to Cleanthes’ and Chrysippus’ fragments (our T2-19 and T2-22) without further distinction. Chrysippus’ doctrine of unperverted ἀφορμαί became standard in Stoicism, except for Posidonius, who appears to have challenged it (see T8-7).

3

Chrysippus’ On Providence

In antiquity, Chrysippus of Soli (280/76–208/4 B.C.)1 was considered the second founder of the Stoa.2 He was also the first Stoic to write a treatise titled On Providence [henceforth P], in five books,3 traces of which have survived in the form of fragments and testimonies.4 In this chapter, we will examine the extant evidence in an attempt to reconstruct the content of books I and IV, and to determine the main issues the treatise was concerned with. First, however, we must better understand what to expect from a treatise written by Chrysippus. According to Diogenes Laertius, his reputation as a writer was far from brilliant: T3-1 Because of the abundance of his subject matters, he did not succeed well in style. In industry, he surpassed everyone, as the list of his writings shows; for there are more than 705 of them. He multiplied their number by dealing often with the same subject, writing down any idea that occurred to him, frequently correcting himself and using numerous citations of authorities. So much so that in one of his treatises he cited nearly the whole of Euripides’ Medea, and someone who had taken up the volume, being asked what he was reading, replied, ‘The Medea of Chrysippus’. (D.L. 7.180, trans. Hicks, adapted) The portrait of Chrysippus as a writer drawn here is not very flattering. He is described as a very productive writer, but, apparently, one without style. But this is not the worst insinuation. His vast oeuvre was said to lack in substance and originality since he is often either repeating what he has already said elsewhere, or massively quoting from others (in particular, here, Euripides). We must keep in mind that Diogenes Laertius’ source is here probably one inimical to Stoicism,5 but that does not make the content of what is reported necessarily unreliable. We will have other occasions to see for ourselves (in T3-6 and T3-25) that Chrysippus discussed the same topic in various treatises, but the reason for this practice was not, I take it, the futile desire of multiplying the number of his books. If Chrysippus frequently returned to the same topic and even repeated himself, it is likely because the doctrines of the Stoa form an integrated and systematic whole. As we will see first-hand with the topic of providence, it is i mpossible (nor should it be encouraged) to DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-3

66  Chapter 3 separate one part of the Stoic philosophy from the others.6 There is therefore nothing incongruous in observing, for instance, that several issues tackled by Chrysippus in P were also dealt with in other treatises, such as his On Gods, On Nature, On Substance, On Fate, to name here some of the most relevant. Still, we should also assume that, when dealing with a given topic (the one stated in the title), Chrysippus tried to focus principally on that topic itself, and we may expect him to do this especially at the beginning of a treatise. I believe that the table of content of P reflects this. This table can be partially reconstructed from the 13 fragments or so that we possess.7 Here is a synoptic presentation of those fragments: Book I: The world is a rational living being that will not die 1

The world is a rational animal - Fr. 1: Demonstration that the world is a living rational animal (D.L. 7.142–143 = fr. 8 von Arnim and fr. 9 Gercke)

2

The world soul and its parts - Fr. 2: Heaven as the seat of the world soul’s commanding faculty (D.L. 7.139 = fr. 2 von Arnim and fr. 7 Gercke)

3

The world is full of gods - Fr. 3*: The stars are living beings (Ach. Tat. Introd. Arat. 13, 2–8 and 13, 11–17 = fr. 3 von Arnim) - Fr. 4*: Chrysippus’ allegorical interpretation of the gods (Philod. Piet. 15 = fr. 4 von Arnim and fr. 10 Gercke)

4

Gods and destructibility - Fr. 5*: (Particular) gods are destructible (Plut. Com. not. 31, 1075 A12-C3 = fr. 5 von Arnim and fr. 3 Gercke)

5

The world will not die - Fr. 6: The world is self-sufficient (Plut. St. rep. 39 = part of fr. 6 von Arnim and fr. 6 Gercke) - Fr. 7: The world must not be said to die (Plut. St. rep. 39 = part of fr. 6 von Arnim and fr. 5 Gercke) - Fr. 8: The ἐκπύρωσις and the two states of the world (Plut. St. rep. 41 = fr. 7 von Arnim and fr. 12 Gercke)

6

God’s withdrawal into providence and the renewal of the world - Fr. 9*: The return of the same (Lact. Div. inst. 7.23 = fr. 1 von Arnim and fr. 14 Gercke)

Book II: largely unknown content Book III: unknown content

Chrysippus’ On Providence  67 Book IV: God and evil 1 Providence and theodicy a Why good and evil are inseparable - Fr. 10a: Moral goods and evils (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.2–3 = part of fr. 11 von Arnim and part of fr. 26 Gercke) - Fr. 10b: Inseparability of virtues and vices (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.4–5 = part of fr. 11 von Arnim and part of fr. 26 Gercke) - Fr. 10c: Moral and non-moral goods and evils (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.5–6 = part of fr. 11 von Arnim and part of fr. 26 Gercke) b

Why providence and evil are not incompatible - Fr. 11a: God’s intention and its necessary consequences (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.7–9 = part of fr. 12 von Arnim and part of fr. 28 Gercke) - Fr. 11b: The fragility of the human head (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.10– 12 = part of fr. 12 von Arnim and part of fr. 28 Gercke) - Fr. 11c: Virtue and vice were born together (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.13 = part of fr. 12 von Arnim and part of fr. 28 Gercke)

2

Fate and moral responsibility - Fr. 12: Description of fate (Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.3 = part of fr. 10 von Arnim).

Book V - Fr. 13: The world is governed according to intelligence and providence (D.L. 7.138 = fr. 9 von Arnim and part of fr. 17 Gercke) Except for fr. 13, all fragments help us to distinguish between two main issues in P, discussed in two different parts of it: while book I deals with the ἐκπύρωσις (conflagration) and its meaning with regard to providence, book IV is concerned with the relation between providence, fate, human beings and evil in the world. These two main topics do not cover the full content of P,8 since we know nothing of the issues discussed in the central books (II and III), and very little of the last one.9 Despite these gaps, the extant evidence which we will examine allow us not only to recover some important ideas and arguments of Chrysippus on providence, but also to suggest that one of the principal adversaries to which he was replying was the Epicurean school. Indeed, according to Cicero, the Epicureans attacked the Stoics on two fronts that align remarkably well the topics addressed in P I and IV. Here is Velleius, the spokesperson of the Garden in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, attacking the Stoic definition of providence: T3-2 [a] Listen to no ungrounded and fictitious doctrines: no creator and builder of the world like the god from Plato’s Timaeus; no prophetic hag

68  Chapter 3 like the Stoics’ Providence…; no world which is itself a god endowed with soul and senses, spherical, glowing and rotating (animo et sensibus praeditum, rutundum, ardentem, uolubilem deum). These prodigies and marvels are the work of philosophers who dream, not argue… [b] As for your [the Stoics’] providence, Lucilius, … why did it make the world mortal (cur mortalem fecerit mundum), and not everlasting, as the Platonic god did? … [c] Was it for the sake of humans (hominum causa), as you [the Stoics] are in the habit of saying, that all this world was assembled by god? For wise human beings? In that case this massive feat of world-building was accomplished for just a handful of people. For foolish human beings? But, first, god had no reason to do the bad a favour. And second, what did he achieve, seeing that all fools are beyond doubt utterly wretched, above all because they are fools (for what can be called more wretched than folly?), but also because there are so many disadvantages in life that, whereas the wise mitigate them with compensating advantages, fools can neither evade those still to come nor bear those which are present. (Cic. ND 1.20 and 23 = 13G L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) One can distinguish three main criticisms in Velleius’ speech. First [a], the idea that the world is a god endowed with soul and senses is a groundless Stoic fantasy. Second [b], there is an obvious contradiction between providence and the world being destructible, as the Stoics claim it is. Finally [c], the Stoic doctrine according to which the world has been created for the sake of human beings just makes no sense: if it is for the wise, it is a huge task for such a tiny fraction of people, which in any case already has the resources (through wisdom) to mitigate the misfortunes of life; if it is for the ignorant, their very ignorance makes their cause a hopeless one. Each of these criticisms finds a matching section in Chrysippus’ P, which is not, I think, mere coincidence.10 The doctrine that the world is an animate, sentient and intelligent living being (god) is discussed and argued for in P I (fr. 1–2), together with the question of the destructibility of the world (fr. 5), and Chrysippus’ eventual denial that the world is mortal (fr. 6–8). As to the relevance of providence for human beings, it is carefully examined in P IV, where it is argued that although good things cannot exist without evil ones (fr. 10–11), humans have been endowed by god with a nature that makes them capable of avoiding any external impediments and thus of achieving happiness (fr. 12).

1 On Providence, book I 1.1 The world is a rational animal The general thesis defended in the first book of P appears to be that the world must be understood as a living being of a superior kind: T3-3 {[Fr. 1] The doctrine that the world is a living being, rational, animate and intelligent (Ὅτι δὲ καὶ ζῷον ὁ κόσμος καὶ λογικὸν καὶ ἔμψυχον

Chrysippus’ On Providence  69 καὶ νοερόν), is laid down by Chrysippus in the first book of his treatise On Providence, by Apollodorus in his Physics, and by Posidonius. [a] It is a living being (ζῷον) in the sense of an animate substance endowed with sense-perception (οὐσίαν ἔμψυχον αἰσθητικήν); for a living being is better than a non-living being (τὸ γὰρ ζῷον τοῦ μὴ ζῴου κρεῖττον), and nothing is better than the world (οὐδὲν δὲ τοῦ κόσμου κρεῖττον), therefore the world is a living being (ζῷον ἄρ’ ὁ κόσμος). [b] And it is endowed with soul (ἔμψυχον), as is clear from our souls being each a detached fragment of it (ὡς δῆλον ἐκ τῆς ἡμετέρας ψυχῆς ἐκεῖθεν οὔσης ἀποσπάσματος).} (D.L. 7.142–143 = SVF 2.633 and 53X L.-S., trans. Hicks, adapted) Diogenes Laertius attributes to Chrysippus, Apollodorus and Posidonius the same doctrine, according to which the world is a rational, animate, intelligent living being, and offers two Stoic arguments for it. Although we cannot be completely sure, it is conceivable that these arguments were initially put forward by Chrysippus himself and later restated by Apollodorus and Posidonius. The first argument is designed to prove that the world is a living being (ζῷον). Although the Stoics usually use the term ‘living beings’ to refer to animate beings, they held a rather inclusive doctrine of ‘life’, in which plants and plant-like entities such as veins of metals and springs are said to be selfmoved and alive (see T10-15 with commentary). In our text, it seems that ζῷον refers to this larger category of living beings, which is opposed to the category of lifeless things (i.e. things which do not possess the cause of their movements in themselves). In that sense, what Chrysippus (and the other Stoics mentioned) initially wanted to prove is that the world is alive. In order to demonstrate this, he begins [a] with the idea that the world is the most excellent thing there is and that, as a consequence, we must grant it the highest form of life there is, that is, the one that comes from the possession of a soul. Contrary to ‘nature’, here taken in the restricted sense of the life-principle of plants (and plant-like beings, such as embryos), and which refers only to the capacities of nutrition and growth, ‘soul’ is a principle of life that brings with it sense-perception and therefore the capacity for knowledge. Not only therefore is the world alive, but it is also in fact ensouled and possessed of sense-perception. The second argument [b] functions as a confirmation of the first: one can indeed attribute a soul to the world (and therefore prove that it is alive) on account that we (human beings) are ‘detached fragments’ (ἀποσπάσματα) of it. The word ἀπόσπασμα, composed of the prefix apo- (from) and the verb spaô (I detach), refers to something as being a detached part, with the additional idea that this part, now detached, retains the mark of its origin. In that sense, the word is particularly well suited to render ideas related to genealogy and is also found in ancient accounts of embryology. For instance, Epicurus held that the seed is ‘a detached fragment of the soul and the body’11; Alexander Polyhistor thought that the soul was ‘a detached part of aether’12; and in the Stoa, Epictetus said that human beings have divine kinship

70  Chapter 3 (συγγένεια) because the human soul is ‘a detached part of god (ἀπόσπασμα τοῦ θεοῦ)’.13 Given the topic discussed in our text, it is likely that the word ἀπόσπασμα also has biological overtones and that the statement according to which our souls are detached fragments coming ‘from the world (ἐκεῖθεν)’ means that humans were initially begotten by the world and are its children. Were human beings born from the world, since they are animate beings, the world must also be recognized as an animate living being. In addition, since a human is a rational and intelligent living being, it is also necessary that its begetter possesses reason and intelligence.14 1.2 The world soul and its parts Once it is admitted that we must conceive the world in terms of a living being endowed with a rational soul, then one has to look after the various parts of the world soul and try to find where they are located in the cosmos: T3-4 (includes T2-4) {[Fr. 2] So the whole world, which is an animal and animate and rational (οὕτω δὴ καὶ τὸν ὅλον κόσμον ζῷον ὄντα καὶ ἔμψυχον καὶ λογικόν), has the aether as its commanding-faculty (ἔχειν ἡγεμονικὸν μὲν τὸν αἰθέρα), as Antipater of Tyre says in his On the World book 8. But Chrysippus in his On Providence book 1 and Posidonius in his On Gods say that the world’s commanding-faculty is the heaven (τὸν οὐρανόν φασι τὸ ἡγεμονικὸν τοῦ κόσμου), and Cleanthes the sun. Yet Chrysippus in the same book has a rather different account – the purest part of the aether (τὸ καθαρώτατον τοῦ αἰθέρος); this they say, as primary god, passes perceptibly as it were (αἰσθητικῶς ὥσπερ) through the things in the air and through all animals and plants, and through the earth itself by way of tenor (καθ’ ἕξιν). (D.L. 7.139 = SVF 2.644 and 47O L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) Before examining this fragment, one must briefly recall the Stoic doctrine of the soul and its parts. The Stoics recognize the existence of eight parts: the first and the most important one is the ‘commanding-faculty’ or ‘ruling part’ (τὸ ἡγεμονικόν), also called ‘rational part’ (λογισμός); the seven other parts account for the five senses, the voice and the reproductive faculty.15 Contrary to Plato and Aristotle who conceived the human soul as bi- or tri-partite and limited reason to one of those parts (the highest), the Stoics thought that the human soul is thoroughly rational. That is why they were committed to show that the seven secondary parts of the soul are not separate from the ruling part but in fact serve as extensions of it. To that effect, they compared the soul to an octopus, and the seven parts to its tentacles, growing out of the ruling part and stretching out into the body.16 In our fragment, we see how Chrysippus manages to allocate a place in the world for the many parts of the world soul. Contrary to Cleanthes, he thought that the ruling part was not the sun itself, but ‘the purest part of the

Chrysippus’ On Providence  71 aether’. While Cleanthes’ choice of the sun may have been, in part at least, driven by the analogy between the middle position of the sun and that of the heart in the human body (see infra Chapter 2, section 2.2), Chrysippus’ rationale seems to be entirely physical. Since the four elements are commensurable and differ from one another only by their relative density, then the ruling part of the world soul must be thought to be the purest, rarest part of aether. Given the fact that the topography of the world reflects the difference of density of the four primary bodies (with the densest at its centre), then the ruling part of the world soul must have been located, according to Chrysippus, at the utmost limit of the cosmos. However, the ruling part of the world soul is not confined to heaven and separate from the rest of the cosmos but instead extends throughout the entire body of the cosmos. This is what the text explains when it says that the ruling part passes ‘through the things in the air and through all animals and plants’ and that it does this ‘perceptibly as it were’. In other words, like the human soul, the world soul is thoroughly rational, and its rationality spreads inside the whole body of the world through the secondary parts of the world soul, in particular its senses.17 1.3 The world is full of gods If the world soul is analogous to the human soul and is therefore fully rational, then the whole world, since it is animated by a rational kind of soul, must be said to be rational and divine. As a consequence, given the presence of the divine soul throughout the world, the gods should be said to be and to live everywhere in the world, starting with the heaven. In the following text, one finds three arguments, probably already developed by Chrysippus himself18 in P and/or in his On Gods, explaining why we should accept that all celestial bodies are ensouled living beings, and even attribute rationality (and so also divinity) to them: T3-5 A living being (ζῷον), according to Eudorus, is ensouled substance (ἔμψυχος οὐσία). {[Fr. 3*] That the stars are living beings (τοὺς ἀστέρας δὲ ζῷα εἶναι), is not the view of Anaxagoras, nor of Democritus in his Great Universal Order, nor of Epicurus in his To Herodotus Epitome, but it is held by Plato in Timaeus, by Aristotle in On the Heavens, Book II, and by Chrysippus in his On Providence and Gods.} […] The Stoics (οἱ Στωϊκοί) prove that stars are living beings by the following arguments: [a] All fiery beings that are in heaven move by nature in a long-lasting and circular way (πάντα τὰ ἐν τῶι οὐρανῶι πυρώδη κατὰ φύσιν καὶ πολυχρονίως κινεῖται καὶ κυκλικῶς). They thus also possess power of judgment (οὐκοῦν καὶ κρίσιν ἔχει). If they possess judgment, they are also living beings (εἰ δὲ κρίσιν ἔχει, καὶ ζῶιά ἐστιν). [b] Also, they have various forms of motions (καὶ ὅτι ποικίλας ἔχουσι κινήσεις). That is concordant with living beings (τοῦτο δὲ τοῖς ζώιοις ἕπεται). [c] Also,

72  Chapter 3 all elements have living beings (καὶ ὅτι πάντα τὰ στοιχεῖα ζῶια ἔχει). It would be absurd to say that the best of all elements is bereft of living beings (ἄτοπον δὲ τὸ κρεῖττον πάντων τῶν στοιχείων ζώιων ἄμοιρον εἰπεῖν). (Ach. Tat. Introd. Arat. 13.2–8 and 11–17 = SVF 2.686 and 687, partial trans. Kidd) The first argument [a] demonstrates that the fiery beings located in the heavens are living beings of the highest kind (animate and rational) by pointing to their ‘long-lasting and circular’ motions, that is, to the regularity of their behaviour. Such an orderly way of moving can only be explained by the possession of judgement (κρίσις) and, therefore, reason. The rationale of the second argument [b] is that the variety of motions (probably in terms of speed and itineraries) that can be observed with regard to celestial bodies is what should be expected from living beings. Perhaps this second argument should be read as an attempt to explain away the apparent irregular motions of the planets, which, until Plato, were considered as ‘wandering’ (as attested by their very name: planêtes asteres or ‘wandering stars’). Finally, according to the third argument [c], it would simply be absurd, that is, irrational, to think that all, but the highest, elements have living beings in them. The irrationality in question is probably based on the assumption that living beings, and especially rational, ensouled living beings, represent the highest form of life there is (see supra T3-3 [a]), and, in that sense, it would be unreasonable that aether, the highest and the most excellent element, should be deprived of them. That stars and planets are rational living beings and therefore gods, was a doctrine already held by Plato and Aristotle. The Stoics, however, took the further step of expanding the realm of the gods to the entire cosmos. We have evidence that Chrysippus, in P, made numerous citations from poetry in order to incorporate the gods of the poetic tradition into Stoic philosophy by means, says Philodemus, of allegory. Although the following testimony is rather long, it is important to cite most of it so that we can arrive at a fuller understanding of the fragment of P contained therein: T3-6 [Col. 6] [In his On the Gods,19 Chrysippus] also [maintains that] Zeus is the air surrounding the earth (Δία μὲ[ν εἶ]ναι τὸν περὶ τὴν [γ]ῆν ἀέρα), Hades the dark air (τὸ‹ν› δὲ σκο[τ]εινὸν Ἅιδην), and Poseidon that which goes through the earth and sea (τὸν δὲ διὰ τῆς γῆς καὶ θαλάττης Ποσε[ι] δῶ); and just like these, he identifies allegorically also the other gods with inanimate entities (καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους δὲ θεοὺς ἀψύχοις ὡς καὶ τούτους συνοικειοῖ). He considers the sun, the moon, the other stars, [even] the law as gods (καὶ τὸν ἥλιόν [τ]ε καὶ τὴν σελήνην καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ἀςτέρας θεοὺς οἴεται καὶ τὸν νόμον); and he says that human beings change into gods (καὶ [ἀ]νθρώπους εἰς θεούς φησι με[τ]αβάλλει[ν). Moreover, in the second [book of his On the Gods], he tries, like Cleanthes, to combine with

Chrysippus’ On Providence  73 their (scil. the Stoics’) opinions ([π]ειρᾶ{ι}ται [συ]νοικειοῦ[ν] ταῖς δόξαις αὐτῶ[ν]) the theories ascribed to Orpheus and Musaeus and those we can find in Homer, Hesiod, Euripides and other poets: [that] all things are aether, which is both father and son. […] He writes similar things also in the treatise On Nature (τὰ παραπλήσια δὲ κἀν τοῖς Περὶ φύσεως γράφει), bringing it (scil. Stoic philosophy) into relation with Heraclitus’ thought too, together with the people we spoke about (scil. the poets). As a matter of fact, in the first book he (scil. Chrysippus) maintains that Night is the very first god; in the third book that the world is one of the wise beings, having as fellow citizens gods and humans (τὸν κ[όσμον ἕνα τῶν φρονίμ[ω]ν, συνπολειτευόμενον θεοῖς καὶ ἀνθρώποις), and that war and Zeus are the same, as also Heraclitus says; in the fifth book he inquires [Col. 8] into the subject of whether the world is a living being, rational, intelligent, and divine (ἐν δὲ τῶι πέμπτωι καὶ λόγους ἐρωτᾶι περὶ τοῦ [τ]ὸν κόσμον ζῶιον εἶναι καὶ λογικὸν καὶ φρονοῦν καὶ θεόν). {[Fr. 4*] Furthermore, in the books of On Providence he gives the same allegorical identifications with the world soul (κἀν τοῖς Περὶ προνοίας μέντοι τὰς αὐτὰς ἐκτίθησιν συνοικειώσεις τῆι ψυχῆι τοῦ παντός) and fits to it the names of the gods, having tireless enjoyment of [his] keenness (καὶ τὰ τῶν θεῶν ὀνόματα ἐφαρμόττει τῆς δρειμύτητος ἀπολαύων ἀκοπιάτως).} (Philod. Piet. book II in P.Herc. 1428, coll. 6–8, 13 Vassalo 2015, including SVF 2.1023, trans. Vassalo) The full passage is a perfect illustration of what was said earlier (cf. T3-1) about Chrysippus’ practice of returning time and again to the same issues in different treatises. Thanks to Christian Vassallo’s reconstruction of the text, we can now better see how Chrysippus managed, through the practice of allegorical interpretation,20 to account for the vast multiplicity of Greek gods. We are told by Philodemus, an Epicurean who opposed such practice, that Chrysippus gave an allegorical interpretation (συνοικείωσις) of the accounts of the gods of Presocratic philosophers (such as Heraclitus), but also, and most importantly, those of poets (i.e. Orpheus, Museaus, Homer, Hesiod, Euripides and others). Although the allegorical interpretation of myths was a practice apparently already introduced by Zeno and maintained by Cleanthes,21 Chrysippus appears to have expanded it to a level never seen before. To measure the significance of that practice in Chrysippus, it may be worth briefly recalling Plato’s attitude with regard to the tales of the poets in the Timaeus, a dialogue that was very influential for the Stoics, as we have seen in the previous chapters. In this dialogue, where Plato is concerned with the origin of the cosmos as a god, we find Timaeus rejecting a physical study of the many particular gods discussed in the poetic tradition. He argues that the poets’ demonstrations ‘lack likelihood and rigour (ἄνευ τε εἰκότων καὶ ἀναγκαίων ἀποδείξεων)’22 and that it would be a desperate task to try to make sense of what they say.23 Even if, in this passage, Plato has Timaeus say that philosophers should, in the case of the traditional gods,

74  Chapter 3 simply conform to custom and blindly trust what the poets say,24 it remains the case that the poetic accounts of gods have no place in Timaeus’ own physical explanation of the world.25 Besides, this attitude is rather coherent with Plato’s rejection of the practice of the allegorical interpretation of myths in the Phaedrus.26 Returning to Chrysippus, not only did he have no problem giving voice to the poets in many of his treatises (even in his On Nature), but, according to Philodemus, he also happily gave numerous allegorical interpretations of them and, by doing so, attempted to make them compatible with Stoic physics. He was therefore able to fill the whole cosmos with gods, and thus strengthen, with the help of the poetic tradition, the Stoic doctrine according to which divine reason is not restricted to the supralunar part of the world but actually permeates the whole of it. 1.4 The destructibility of the world 1.4.1 The three senses of ‘world’ The early Stoics, including Chrysippus, were convinced of the destructibility of the world,27 which they acknowledged by their doctrine of the conflagration (ἐκπύρωσις).28 At the same time, as we shall soon see, Chrysippus went out of his way to demonstrate that the world really never dies. To reconcile these two doctrines, we must be aware that they used the term ‘world’ (κόσμος) in relation to three different objects, and that not all of them can in fact be said to be ‘destructible’: T3-7 They (sc. the Stoics) use ‘world’ in three ways (Λέγουσι δὲ κόσμον τριχῶς): [a] of god himself, the peculiarly qualified individual consisting of all substance (αὐτόν τε τὸν θεὸν τὸν ἐκ τῆς ἁπάσης οὐσίας ἰδίως ποιόν), who is indestructible and ungenerated (ἄφθαρτός ἐστι καὶ ἀγένητος), since he is the demiurge of the world-order (δημιουργὸς ὢν τῆς διακοσμήσεως), at set periods of time consuming all substance into himself and reproducing it again from himself (κατὰ χρόνων ποιὰς περιόδους ἀναλίσκων εἰς ἑαυτὸν τὴν ἅπασαν οὐσίαν καὶ πάλιν ἐξ ἑαυτοῦ γεννῶν); [b] they also describe the world-order (τὴν διακόσμησιν) as ‘world’; [c] and thirdly, what is composed out of both (τὸ συνεστηκὸς ἐξ ἀμφοῖν). (D.L. 7.137 = SVF 2.526 and 44F L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) ‘World’ can refer to three, sometimes overlapping, objects: god, the world-order and what is composed out of both. The world-qua-god [a] is the demiurge or craftsman responsible of the generation of the world-order. It should not be confused with god as one of the two principles which the Stoics recognized as being at the origin of everything, as it instead corresponds to the state where the two principles (reason and matter) are ‘mixed’ together. That is why, in our text, it is presented as ‘the peculiarly qualified

Chrysippus’ On Providence  75 individual consisting of all substance’. The expression combines two of the so-called Stoic categories: the ‘substance’ (οὐσία) or matter, which undergoes all kinds of transformations, and the ‘peculiarly qualified individual’ (ἰδίως ποιός), which is responsible for the identity of the individual and its persistence through time.29 The world-qua-god refers thus to the intelligent animate living being that the first Stoics called the ‘craftsmanlike fire’, and that Zeno, as we have seen, conceived of as a craftsman (see supra T1-5). The world-qua-god can only be observed during the ἐκπύρωσις, when all the substance (or body) of the world is absorbed by god and changed into fire. The world-qua-world-order [b] is the product of the demiurge’s activity and as such is destructible. The world-order (διακόσμησις) cannot be observed separately from the divine craftsman that has produced it, since, as we have seen, that craftsman is an immanent god, not separated from his work. According to the biological model the Stoics employed to account for the production of the world-qua-world-order, the world-order is generated out of a ‘σπερματικὸς λόγος’ or rational seed (made of fire and water). Its generation follows the same pattern as that of ‘perceptible’ living beings,30 and therefore it is, like them, subject to destruction. Finally [c], ‘world’ can refer to the world-qua-compound, composed out of both the craftsmanlike fire and the world-order. I believe what is meant here is what Chrysippus calls the compound of soul and body, that is the world we live in (see for instance T3-12), where the cosmic soul (or rather its ἡγεμονικόν) is located in the heavens, while the cosmic body occupies the rest of the world. The full significance of this triple distinction will become clearer later. For now, what is important is to acknowledge that when the Stoics attribute destructibility to the world, they do so only to the world-qua-world-order and qua-compound. The world-qua-craftsman never dies, and it corresponds to both the initial state of the generation of the world-order and to the final state of its existence, when the body of the world is completely engulfed in fire. 1.4.2 Gods and destructibility If the world (in sense [c]) is full of gods, and if it is bound for destruction, does this not also imply the destruction of all those many gods? The answer is yes, says Chrysippus, which raises eyebrows among the opponents of the Stoa, Plutarch in particular: T3-8 {[Fr. 5*] [a] Chrysippus and Cleanthes, however, who in theory have, so to speak, filled full of gods heaven, earth, air, and sea (ἐμπεπληκότες ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν τῷ λόγῳ θεῶν τὸν οὐρανὸν τὴν γῆν τὸν ἀέρα τὴν θάλατταν), have held that none of all these many is indestructible or ever-lasting except Zeus alone (οὐδένα τῶν τοσούτων ἄφθαρτον οὐδ’ ἀίδιον ἀπολελοίπασι πλὴν μόνου τοῦ Διός), in whom they consume all the

76  Chapter 3 rest. [b] The result is that he too has the attribute of being destructive, which is not more fitting than that of being destroyed (ὥστε καὶ τούτῳ τὸ φθείρειν προσεῖναι τοῦ φθείρεσθαι μὴ ἐπιεικέστερον), for some weakness is the reason both why what changes into a different thing is destroyed and why that is preserved which is nourished on the destruction of others that it absorbs. [c] These absurdities unlike many of the others we do not infer as involved in their premises and as consequences of their doctrines; but they shout aloud themselves in the writings On Gods and On Providence, On Fate, and On Nature and state expressly that all the other gods have come into being and will be destroyed by fire, being in their opinion capable of melting as if made of wax or of tin.} (Plut. Com. not. 31.1075A12-C3 = SVF 2.1049, trans. Cherniss, adapted) According to Plutarch, the idea that all the infinite number of particular gods that populate the world will eventually be destroyed as a consequence of the ἐκπύρωσις implies the attribution of two opposite attributes, neither of which is befitting of the notion of god: destructibility (in the case of the particular gods) and destroyer (in the case of Zeus, that is, of the craftsmanlike fire). Let us start with the first attribute. We understand, from the first part of the text [a], that the destruction of the gods is a consequence of the change that occurs in the parts of the cosmos as a result of the need for the celestial beings to sustain themselves.31 Because of this, as we have already explained in the previous chapter, the earth gets increasingly dry and finally the whole world is set afire. To Plutarch, the destruction of the gods dwelling in the world is not only in contradiction with the conception we have of a god as a being that is incorruptible and imperishable,32 but also seems to be a self-contradiction on the part of the Stoa, since, in another treatise, Plutarch quotes the Stoic Antipater of Tarsus, who says that our conception of god must include indestructibility.33 However, as Anthony Long has shown, it does not seem to be the case that Chrysippus himself or any of the early Stoics thought that our common conception of god includes indestructibility.34 Long points to an important passage of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods (2.45) in which the notion of god simply includes two attributes: being ‘animate (animans)’ and being ‘outstandingly excellent in the whole of nature (in omni natura nihil eo sit praestantius)’. Later, it is explained that possession of the best nature implies ‘being animate, sentient, intelligent and rational (animans sit habeatque sensum et rationem et mentem)’,35 which closely corresponds to what Chrysippus holds in the fr. 1 of P (see T3-3). If that is the case, then Chrysippus’ assertion that all gods but Zeus are subject to destruction does not contradict the Stoic conception of god, at least not the one held by the first Stoics. A more serious issue, I believe, is when Plutarch attributes to Zeus, on behalf of Chrysippus, the epithet of ‘destroyer’ [b], which is in contradiction with the Stoic account of god as being essentially good and provident.36

Chrysippus’ On Providence  77 Surely Chrysippus would here disagree with Plutarch’s assessment,37 but it is still a fair question to ask – and one which the Epicureans indeed did ask (cf. supra T3-2): since everything that happens in the world is the result of god’s reason, then should we not say that the ἐκπύρωσις, and the destruction of the world it provokes, makes god a cause of destruction? If providence implies keeping the world alive, then how can it be that the world-order eventually collapses into fire? Would the ἐκπύρωσις not then be a blatant rebuttal of divine providence? There is, however, a Chrysippean answer to these questions. 1.4.3 The world will not die We have seen that the issue of nourishment is very important for the Stoics. In the case of the world soul, and more generally of all celestial beings, the need for nourishement is ultimately at the origin of the cosmic conflagration and, with it, at the origin of serious questions about the coherence of the Stoic conception of providence. As long as a living being can find food, it will remain alive. If the world, which is a rational, ensouled living being, is to be preserved, which is the main goal of providence, it must be shown that ἐκπύρωσις does not affect its capacity to nourish itself. That is precisely the next step that Chrysippus takes in the first book of P, where he attributes self-sufficiency to the world: T3-9 {[Fr. 6] The world alone is said to be self-sufficient (αὐτάρκης δ’ εἶναι λέγεται μόνος ὁ κόσμος) because it alone has within itself everything it needs (διὰ τὸ μόνος ἐν αὑτῷ πάντ’ ἔχειν ὧν δεῖται), and it feeds from itself and grows, while its parts change into one another (τῶν ἄλλων μορίων εἰς ἄλληλα καταλλαττομένων).} (Chrysippus, On Providence, book I, apud Plut. St. rep. 39.1052C-D = SVF 2.604 and 46E2 L.-S., trans. Cherniss, adapted) Chrysippus’ statement about the world’s self-sufficiency seems a direct borrowing from the Timaeus, where it is said that the world ‘feeds itself from its own waste’ and is so designed that ‘every process and action happen within it and by its own agency’, since its creator ‘believed that the universe would be more perfect if it were self-sufficient than if it needed things other than itself’.38 In other words, the self-sufficiency of the world is the result of divine providence. However, in Chrysippus, the reasoning is slightly different since self-sufficiency is an attribute of the world-qua-god, that is, of god as a demiurge whose all-encompassing nature makes it self-sufficient, unlike the particular nature of the particular gods: T3-10 Nourishment (τροφῇ) is used in a similar way by the rest of the gods—it is through it that they are sustained (συνεχόμενοι δι’ αὐτήν), but Zeus, i.e. the world, in a different way (Ζεὺς καὶ ὁ

78  Chapter 3 κόσμος καθ’ ἕτερον τρόπον) are absorbed (ἀναλισκομένων) and arise out of fire (ἐκ πυρὸς γινομένων). (Chrysippus, On Gods III, apud Plut. St. rep. 39.1052B-C = SVF 2.1068, trans. Cherniss, adapted) While particular gods, because they are only parts of the world, are not self-sufficient since they find their food only outside themselves (in other parts), Zeus, the world-qua-god, who is all-encompassing (he consists of ‘all substance’, as stated in T3-7), sustains himself ‘in a different way’, namely, by finding his food in himself. Now, because of that, says Chrysippus in P, ‘the world should not be said to die’: T3-11 {[Fr. 7] In his On Providence, book I, he says that Zeus goes on growing (αὔξεσθαι) until all things have been consumed in his growth (μέχρι ἂν εἰς αὑτὸν ἅπαντα καταναλώσῃ): ‘For, since death is the separation of soul from body (ὁ θάνατος μέν ἐστι ψυχῆς χωρισμὸς ἀπὸ τοῦ σώματος) and the soul of the world is not separated but goes on growing continually until it has completely absorbed its matter (αὔξεται δὲ συνεχῶς μέχρι ἂν εἰς αὑτὴν καταναλώσῃ τὴν ὕλην), the world must not be said to die (οὐ ῥητέον ἀποθνήσκειν τὸν κόσμον).’} (Plut. St. rep. 39.1052C = SVF 2.604 and 46E1 L.-S., trans. Cherniss, adapted) Resorting to a definition initially put forward by Plato in the Phaedo,39 according to which death is ‘the separation of the soul from the body’, Chrysippus is able to demonstrate that it is wrong to attribute death to the world. The eventual conflagration of the world, although it implies the corruption of the parts of the world, nevertheless does not signal the death of the world, he says, because what happens at the time of the ἐκπύρωσις cannot and should not be described as the result of the separation of a soul from the body it is animating. On the contrary, what happens during the whole process of conflagration is rather a form of greater unification in which the soul of the world continuously grows until it has completely absorbed the body of the world. Growing, which is the effect of self-nourishment, is a particular sort of change that preserves, say the Stoics, the identity of the being in which it occurs.40 We may recall here that in the three senses of the word ‘world’ (in T3-7), the world-qua-god was presented as ‘the peculiarly qualified individual consisting of all substance’, which is certainly no accident in light of the present text. The idea is that there is a sense in which it is true that the world, no matter what changes occur in its parts, will nevertheless remain the same: the world-qua-god (i.e. Zeus or the craftsmanlike fire) is a peculiarly qualified individual that has the capacity to grow (and diminish): it is subject to a special kind of change over time that does not threaten its identity. This is true of all peculiarly qualified individuals, including particular animals and plants. But while these are mortals and remain the same only until they die, the worldqua-god does not die because of its universality and self-sufficiency.

Chrysippus’ On Providence  79 The self-sufficiency of the world has important implications on the relation between the world’s soul and body. In the case of mortal living beings, the soul is eventually separated from the body and makes its way back into the cosmic soul, while the body is dissolved into air, water and earth. In the case of the world, however, the soul is not separated from the body, since the cosmic body, which provides food (i.e. exhalations from water), is progressively assimilated by the soul. That assimilation is natural in the sense that it follows the same rational path41 that has initially led to the generation of the cosmic body: T3-12 He [Chrysippus] says that when conflagration has occurred through and through, alive and animal (ζῆν καὶ ζῷον), but as it goes out again and condenses, it turns into water and earth and bodily nature. {[Fr. 8] In his On Providence book 1 he says: ‘When the world is fiery through and through (διόλου μὲν γὰρ ἂν ὁ κόσμος πυρώδης), it is directly both its own soul and commandingfaculty (εὐθὺς καὶ ψυχή ἐστιν ἑαυτοῦ καὶ ἡγεμονικόν). But when, having changed into moisture and the soul which remains therein (μεταβαλὼν εἴς τε τὸ ὑγρὸν καὶ τὴν ἐναπολειφθεῖσαν ψυχήν), it has in a way changed into body and soul so as to be compounded out of these, it has got a different definition (ἄλλον τινὰ ἔσχε λόγον).’ (Plut. St. rep. 41.1053B = SVF 2.605 and 46F L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) When the conflagration takes place, the world is thoroughly alive and a living being because it identifies itself with its own soul, that is, with the craftsmanlike fire that is Zeus. The shift from that unified state of the world (the world-qua-god) to that of a composite of soul and body (the worldqua-compound) is not the result of the addition of some further external matter to the primeval soul, but rather the result of the product of a partial self-transformation of that primeval soul: while one part of it remains unchanged, another part is transformed into moisture, which, in turn, becomes the basis of the body of the world. While these two states of the world have different ‘logoi’, that is, different definitions or descriptions (see the first and third sense of ‘world’ in T3-7), it is obvious that the world-quacompound, although not indestructible, is inseparable from the world-quagod and should be seen as a natural development of it. 1.5 Zeus’ withdrawal into providence and the renewal of the world We know from another passage of Plutarch that Chrysippus also stated that, by identifying itself with its soul (during the ἐκπύρωσις), the world becomes identical to providence42: T3-13 At any rate, Chrysippus asserts that Zeus, that is the world, is like the human being and his providence is like its soul: so when the

80  Chapter 3 conflagration has taken place, Zeus, who alone of the gods is indestructible, withdraws into providence (ἀναχωρεῖν ἐπὶ τὴν πρόνοιαν), and then both, having come together, persist in the single substance of the aether. (Plut. Com. not. 36.1077D-E = SVF 2.1064 and 28O4 L.-S., trans. Cherniss, adapted) To understand why Chrysippus describes the eventual conflagration of the cosmos as Zeus’ withdrawal into providence, we must recall the essential link the Stoics draw between reason (or wisdom) and providence. We have seen that Zeno (in T1-5) presents nature as a craftsman that is ‘consultrix et prouida’ of every advantage and opportunity. The idea is that wisdom (φρόνησις, prudentia) is, in essence, providential, in the sense that it enables a form of deliberation concerning what must be done for the generation of life and its future conservation. Since the conflagration corresponds not only to the end of a cosmic cycle but also to the beginning of a new one, it is likely that the idea of god withdrawing into providence means that Zeus, now strictly identical to soul and reason, is already at work deliberating about the next cosmic cycle, figuring out how best to generate the world (qua-world-order) so that it will be as self-sustaining as possible. The model of a craftsman deliberating before setting to work was not, however, the preferred one amongst the Stoics. We have noted in Chapter 1 that the Stoics adopted a biological approach to the formation of the world that helped them show that god’s reason is always working from within the world. Their favourite image is that of a seminal principle or σπερματικὸς λόγος, where the λόγος is the world soul, while the seminal fluid corresponds to the cosmic body. It is this image that best suits what Chrysippus said in P, where, as stated in T3-12, he explains that the initial state of the new cosmic cycle is that of fire having changed ‘into moisture and the soul which remains therein’. The world is now once again a composite entity that will progressively develop into a new cosmic order. As has been briefly alluded to above, the way the world-qua-world-order is progressively reformed is, according to the Stoics, identical in each new cycle, a point Chrysippus appears to have reiterated43 in P: T3-14 {[Fr. 9] Chrysippus, […] in his books On Providence, in speaking of the renewal of the world (cum de innouatione mundi loqueretur), wrote: ‘Since this is so (τούτου δέ οὕτως ἔχοντος), it is evidently not impossible that we too after our death will return again to the shape we now are (δῆλον ὡς οὐδὲν ἀδύνατον καὶ ἡμᾶς μετά τὸ τελευτῆσαι, πάλιν περιόδων τινῶν εἰλημμένων χρόνου, εἰς ὅν ἐσμεν καταστήσεσθαι σχῆμα).’} (Lact. Div. inst. 7.23 = SVF 2.623 and 52B L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley)

Chrysippus’ On Providence  81 We have seen that the world, according to Chrysippus, does not die. At the time of the ἐκπύρωσις, it is alive and well (T3-12). It has only changed and identified with its soul, the permanence of which is the guarantee of the world’s continuity of identity through time.44 If one is to speak of the ‘renewal’ (innouatio) of the world, it is therefore above all the renewal of the world-qua-world-order: this renewal would not be possible if the world, in the first sense of that word (T3-7), did not persist from one cycle to another. Given the persistence through time of the world soul, it is the same wisdom that directs the formation of a new world. Because of this, says Chrysippus, ‘it is not impossible’ that every one of us shall return again to his or her present shape. It is not clear why he used such a cautious wording. Maybe he simply wanted to state that there is nothing absurd, that is, contrary to reason, to imagine the world being recreated exactly the same. In any case, in other testimonies, we find this doctrine reported without any qualification: T3-15 Each thing which occurred in the previous period will come to pass indiscernibly (ἀπαραλλάκτως) [from its previous occurrence]. For again there will be Socrates and Plato and each one of mankind with the same friends and fellow citizens; they will suffer the same things and they will encounter the same things, and put their hand to the same things, and every city and village and piece of land return in the same way. (Nem. Nat. hom. 38.310 = SVF 2.625 and 52C2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) While some Stoics appear to have allowed for some slight and inessential changes between the two world cycles,45 it seems that only the stricter account, reported here by Nemesius, would be completely coherent with the Stoic theory of causality, according to which reason is the active principle responsible for any movement or change occurring in matter. Since it is the same reason that remains active throughout the infinite cosmic cycles, there seems to be no place for even the slightest of changes.46

2 On Providence, book IV 2.1 Providence and theodicy Our only source for the content of Chrysippus’ P IV is a work by a Roman author of the second century A.D., Aulus Gellius, titled Attic Nights. Gellius devoted two chapters to two different although clearly related topics that seem to have been at the centre of P IV. The first one is about the compatibility of providence and evil, the very topic about which Cleanthes broke with Zeno. Recall that Cleanthes argued that it is not the case that everything that happens according to fate also happens according to providence, since it is impossible to hold god responsible for the evil deeds of ignorant people (see T2-17 and T2-18). As already announced, although well aware of

82  Chapter 3 the difficulty, Chrysippus will not follow Cleanthes but instead attempt to revive Zeno’s original doctrine. Let us start with the exact issue to which Chrysippus was responding: T3-16 Those who disbelieve that the world was created for the sake of gods and humans (Quibus non uidetur mundus dei et hominum causa institutus), and that human affairs are governed by providence (neque res humanae prouidentia gubernari), think that they are using a weighty argument when they say that ‘if there were providence, there would be no evils’ (si esset prouidentia, nulla essent mala). For nothing is less compatible with providence (Nihil enim minus aiunt prouidentiae congruere) than that in the world, which it is alleged to have been made for humans (quem propter homines fecisse dicatur), there should be such a host of troubles and evils (tantam vim esse aerumnarum et malorum). (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.1 = SVF 2.1169 and 54Q1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) The argument is clearly Epicurean47 and complements the list of criticisms found in T3-2, where the doctrine that ‘the world has been created for humans’ was already attributed to the Stoics. Although the Stoics usually speak of the world as having been created for the sake of gods and human beings, rather than simply for that of human beings alone (as the present text rightly recalls), it is true that they also often tend to acknowledge a special concern on the part of god for human beings specifically (see infra T10-3), and, within that group, for individual human beings as well (see infra T10-21 and T10-24). By so widening the scope of providence, they were bound to be challenged by rival schools, since the sublunary world, especially the affairs of human beings, is a stage of apparently unfortunate and bad events. Even if the Stoics refused the Peripatetic idea of a world separated into two regions and instead insisted that the whole cosmos is perfect and governed by one and the same cause (see Chapter 1, section 2.2), they would still agree that human beings appear to endure many evils, of moral or amoral nature. They therefore had to come up with an explanation as to why the existence of evil does not contradict divine providence. Chrysippus’ response has two parts (fr. 10 and 11), which correspond to two steps of a single argument. In the first part, his aim is to explain why good and evil, although contraries, are nevertheless inseparable, so that there is nothing incongruous in observing that good and evil coexist in the same place (i.e. the world). In the second part, he explains what this relation between contraries owes to god and providence and why one should take god to be ultimately responsible for the evils of the world and yet not blame him for them.

Chrysippus’ On Providence  83 2.2 Why good and evil are not separable The first step of Chrysippus’ response consists in putting forward a conception of opposites that is Heraclitean48: T3-17a {[Fr. 10a] Chrysippus’ reply to this, when arguing the point in his On Providence book 4, is as follows: ‘There is absolutely nothing more foolish than those who think that it would be possible for goods to exist without the coexistence of evils in the same place (qui opinantur bona esse potuisse si non essent ibidem mala). For since goods are contraries of evils (nam cum bona malis contraria sint), it is necessary that the two exist in opposition to each other and, as it were, are supported by their mutual and adverse thrusts (utraque necessum est opposita inter sese et quasi mutuo adverso quaeque fulta nisu consistere). And there is no such contrary term without its matching contrary (nullum adeo contrarium est sine contrario altero).’} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.2–3 = SVF 2.1169 and 54Q1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) T3-17b Heraclitus criticises the poet [i.e. Homer] who wrote, ‘If only strife would vanish from gods and men!’ (Il. 18.107): for there would not be any harmony (harmonia) if there were not high-pitched and low-pitched, nor would there be any animals without female and male, which are opposites. (Ar. EE 7.1.1235a25–28 = D23 L.-M., trans. Laks and Most, slightly adapted) T3-17c Heraclitus [says] that what is opposed (τὸ ἀντίξουν) converges (συμφέρον), and that the most beautiful harmony (καλλίστην ἁρμονίαν) comes out of what diverges (ἐκ τῶν διαφερόντων), and that all things come about by strife (πάντα κατ’ ἔριν γίνεσθαι). (Ar. EN 8.1155b4–6 = D62 L.-M., trans. Laks and Most) Chrysippus is responding to his adversaries in a manner that recalls how Heraclitus criticized Homer: to suppose that it would be possible for good to exist without evil coexisting at the same place49 (i.e. in the world) is as foolish as Homer wanting strife to vanish from the world of humans and gods. Contraries like good and evil must coexist since they oppose one another, like enemies in a battle. According to Chrysippus, since good is the contrary of evil, it is not possible for it to exist alone, separately from its opposite. From the fact that good is the contrary of evil, he says, it necessarily follows that good and evil ‘stand in mutual opposition’. By the latter, he means, like Heraclitus, that the opposition between contraries make them inseparable: they are things that are actively opposed to one another, each directing its effort, so

84  Chapter 3 to speak, against the other. Consequently, it is not possible for a contrary term to exist without its matching contrary, which means that if there is good in the world (which is the case), there must also exist evil ‘in the same place (ibidem)’. But what does Chrysippus (or his opponents) mean by ‘good’ and ‘evil’? The Stoics are known for denying that unfortunate external events such as illness or pain are genuine evils, saying that they are simply dispreferred indifferents50: although it is natural for us to try to avoid them, their occurrences cannot by themselves compromise our happiness. Ultimately, the Stoics say, only moral evils (i.e. vices) count as truly evil. Nevertheless, we have evidence that the Stoics, even Chrysippus himself,51 would be ready, in certain instances, to make use of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ in a non-technical manner, especially, one might assume, when they are responding to critics who do not necessarily share their views. In this case, they would employ these words according to their common usage. That is probably what Chrysippus is here doing,52 using good and evil as generic names for categories that include both moral and amoral entities. Still, we will see (in T3-21) that he refers to amoral good and evil as ‘advantageous’ or ‘disadvantageous’ things, which suggests that his account remains essentially Stoic, even when he is resorting to quotations or examples taken from non-Stoic sources (as in T3-19 and T3-22). Given that Chrysippus says that good and evil are opposed to one another (and are therefore inseparable) because they are contraries, we may assume that what he says holds true of any pair of contraries, hence also of any good or evil, be they moral or not. This is indeed his position, as we will see. Chrysippus starts with the case of moral good and evil: T3-18 {[Fr. 10b] ‘For how could there be perception of justice if there were no injustices? What else is justice, if not the absence of injustice (aut quid aliud iustitia est quam iniustitiae priuatio)? Likewise, what appreciation of courage could there be except through the contrast with cowardice? Of moderation, if not from immoderation? How, again, could there be prudence if there were not imprudence opposed to it? Why do the fools not similarly wish that there were truth without there being falsity?’} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.4–5 = SVF 2.1169 and 54Q1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) The inseparability of virtues and vices is obvious, says Chrysippus, both epistemologically and ontologically. The fact that vices are often presented negatively, as the privation of the corresponding virtues (for example, in-iustitia), helps him argue that moral good and evil are inseparable. The Stoics, along with other philosophers, conceive of virtue as the removal of vice, arguing that virtue, being a form of knowledge,53 is a state of the soul that is achieved by the removal of ignorance. In other words, virtue is never

Chrysippus’ On Providence  85 conceived of as existing in a vacuum but always in relation to its contrary, vice, which, in turn, is not something passive but an opposing force that makes becoming virtuous very difficult. From an epistemological point of view, grasping what virtue is, requires, as a starting point, the observation of vices and the understanding of their nature.54 What Chrysippus may have in mind here is the widely accepted view that there is, proportionately, much more vice than virtue in our world, because it is much easier to do wrong than to do right.55 As a consequence, what humans are usually in contact with is vice, not virtue.56 The reason why human beings are able to grasp what virtue is, despite it being so difficult to observe in the world, is that vice, being the contrary of virtue, exhibits, negatively, the essential characteristics of virtue and thus helps human beings to gain some initial knowledge of the latter. After having explained how virtues and vices are essentially related, Chrysippus widens his explanation to amoral evils: T3-19 {[Fr. 10c] ‘For goods and evils, fortune and misfortune, pain and pleasure, exist in just the same way: “they are joined to each other head to head”, as Plato said. Remove one, and you remove both (si tuleris unum, abstuleris utrumque).’} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.5–6 = SVF 2.1169 and 54Q1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) The reason why Chrysippus is in a position now to expand his general explanation to fortune and misfortune, or pain and pleasure, is because these are things that are generally held to be good and evil (though of an amoral kind) by common people and even by philosophers.57 Because they are contraries, all good and evil things, he says, are inseparable. To argue his case, he quotes a passage from Plato’s Phaedo, in which Socrates marvels at the inseparability of pain and pleasure. This passage deserves to be cited in full: T3-20 But Socrates, sitting up onto his couch, bent his leg and gave it a hard rub with his hand, and as he rubbed it he said: ‘What a peculiar thing (Ὡς ἄτοπον) it seems to be, my friends, this thing that people call ‘pleasure’ (τοῦτο ὃ καλοῦσιν οἱ ἄνθρωποι ἡδύ). What a surprising natural relation it has to its apparent opposite, pain (ὡς θαυμασίως πέφυκε πρὸς τὸ δοκοῦν ἐναντίον εἶναι, τὸ λυπηρόν). I mean that the two of them refuse to come to a person at the same time (τὸ ἅμα μὲν αὐτὼ μὴ ‘θέλειν παραγίγνεσθαι τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ), yet if someone chases one and catches it he is pretty much forced always to catch the other one too (ἐὰν δέ τις διώκῃ τὸ ἕτερον καὶ λαμβάνῃ, σχεδόν τι ἀναγκάζεσθαι ἀεὶ λαμβάνειν καὶ τὸ ἕτερον), as if they were two things but joined by a single head (ὥσπερ ἐκ μιᾶς κορυφῆς ἡμμένω δύ’ ὄντε). ‘And I do believe,’ he said, ‘that if Aesop had reflected on them, he would have composed a fable: that they were

86  Chapter 3 at war, and that god wanted to reconcile them, and that, finding himself unable to do so (ἐπειδὴ οὐκ ἐδύνατο), he joined their heads together (συνῆψεν εἰς ταὐτὸν αὐτοῖς τὰς κορυφάς), the result being that if one of them comes to somebody the other too will later follow in its train (καὶ διὰ ταῦτα ᾧ ἂν τὸ ἕτερον παραγένηται ἐπακολουθεῖ ὕστερον καὶ τὸ ἕτερον).’ (Pl. Phd. 60b-c, trans. Long) As explained by Jenny Bryan, ‘the force of the Platonic allusion here [sc. in our T3-19] seems to be to note a tradition of asserting the ontological interdependence of opposites’.58 Indeed, even if Plato and Heraclitus did not promote the same account of harmony and whether opposites naturally converge or must be forced to do so (see Chapter 2, section 1), they still both maintain the idea that opposites are inseparable,59 and this explains why Chrysippus was able to borrow from both of them in order to strengthen his own argumentation. Let us take a closer look at Plato’s text. Its main point is to stress the particularly remarkable, even astonishing, nature (ὡς ἄτοπον, ὡς θαυμασίως) of the relationship between pain and pleasure. We gather from the text that the source of amazement for Socrates is that, according to him, if pleasure and pain are opposites, one would normally expect them to be incompatible and mutually exclusive. Later in the Phaedo (in 106b), after the theory of forms was (re)introduced (in 102b), Socrates will take the example of snow and fire, explaining that since snow is cold, it is impossible for snow to continue to exist if it is warmed up (and the same for fire in relation to coldness): hot snow or cold fire are simply impossible, because hot and cold are opposites, and opposites, considered in themselves, cannot coexist. In a sense, this is also true of pleasure and pain, when considered in the human body60: when Socrates rubs his leg, he feels some pleasure, whereas when he stops, he feels pain. In each case, he feels either pleasure or pain, but not both at the same time. But the particularity of pleasure and pain, and the reason why Socrates is amazed, is that when either of the two is present, the other is never far away: as soon as pain is removed, pleasure appears, and as soon as pleasure disappears, pain comes back. So, there is really something remarkable here, apparently, in the sense that although pleasure and pain are opposites, they do not completely exclude one another. The end of the passage, where Socrates imagines Aesop composing a fable about the whole thing, makes it clear that the relationship between pain and pleasure is not entirely natural, in the sense that it is not what one would expect to happen based on the contrary nature of these things. Indeed, the reason why pain and pleasure are opposite and yet inseparable is because god made it so, says Socrates: god wanted to reconcile pain and pleasure but that was just impossible, given their opposing natures; hence, he decided to ‘join their head together’, that is, to make them inseparable. The result of this is a very peculiar kind of relation, where two contraries, instead of fleeing from one another and never being seen in company (which

Chrysippus’ On Providence  87 is, again, what one would expect to happen), are always found side by side (or rather head to head). To understand why this account appealed to Chrysippus, let us recall here the question that was put to him by his adversaries (T3-16): since good and evil are contraries, and since, according to the Stoics, providence is active everywhere, then it should follow that only the good exists in the world; since that is not the case, and there exists much evil, it cannot be the case that god’s providence is omnipresent. Chrysippus’ opponents clearly hold a view similar to what I have called the natural or expected view in the Phaedo passage: they take contraries to be exclusive and incompatible, things that flee from one another and are never to be found in the same place. Chrysippus, on the other hand, on the authority of Socrates himself, argues that contraries such as good and evil (understood here in a broad and nontechnical sense) are in fact inseparable: ‘Remove one, and you remove both’. What Chrysippus must also have found interesting in Socrates’ explanation is the way Socrates formulates the necessary connection between pain and pleasure, saying that each one is always ‘following in the train’ (ἐπακολουθεῖ) of the other. In the Stoa, the idea of a necessary connection or consecution between two things or two events is usually rendered by the verb ἀκολουθεῖν (to follow, come after), with or without prefix. It is this very word, as we shall see, which Chrysippus used in order to explain the necessary connection between god’s good intention and the apparently bad consequences that necessarily follow from it.61 2.3 Why providence and evils are not incompatible We are told by Gellius that somewhere in book IV of P, Chrysippus discussed the reason behind the existence of amoral evils in the world, in particular illnesses. As we are going to see, there is a strong connection between what Gellius now reports and the last part of the previous fragment (in T3-18) which introduced the topic of amoral evils. The difference between the two accounts is that now that Chrysippus has explained why we must not think of good and evil (broadly conceived) as being separable, he tries to demonstrate how amoral evils can be related to god (despite his goodness) without, however, blaming god for them: T3-21 {[Fr. 11a] [a] Chrysippus also, in the same book, takes seriously and tackles the question ‘whether human illnesses come about in accordance with nature’ (εἰ αἱ τῶν ἀνθρώπων νόσοι κατὰ φύσιν γίνονται) – that is, whether nature herself or providence (id est, natura ipsa rerum uel prouidentia), who created the structure of our world and the human kind, also created the illnesses, infirmities and diseases of the body which human beings suffer from. [b] In his judgment, it was not nature’s principal intention to make human beings liable to disease (existimat autem non fuisse hoc principale naturae consilium, ut faceret

88  Chapter 3 homines morbis obnoxios): that would never have been fitting for nature, the creator and mother of all good things (numquam enim hoc convenisse naturae auctori parentique omnium rerum bonarum). ‘But, he adds, while she was bringing about many great works and perfecting their fitness and utility, many disadvantageous things simultaneously (simul) came about, cohering to the (good) things she was creating.’ [c] ‘These, he says, were created in accordance with nature, but through certain necessary consequences (eaque per naturam, sed per sequellas quasdam necessarias facta dicit), which he calls κατὰ παρακολούθησιν’.} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.7–9 = SVF 2.1170 and 54Q2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) Chrysippus is clear: illnesses, infirmities and diseases of the body are indeed created ‘in accordance with nature (per naturam)’ [c], and by nature he means providence (prouidentia) [a]. So, he is not here trying, like Cleanthes did, to explain away amoral evils by fate, as if fate was some other, distinct cause that one might call on to explain something that we would rather not link to god. On the contrary, if one wants to understand why evils exist in this world, says Chrysippus, one must assume that providence is their cause. Yet how can providence be responsible for anything bad? Is it not the case that nature, since it is identical to providence, is incapable of producing something contrary to its benevolence and beneficence? That was Cleanthes’ reasoning, and Chrysippus fully agrees, saying [b] that it would not be fitting to attribute an evil will or plan to nature,62 because that would run contrary to the preconception63 we have of nature as being ‘creator and mother of all good things’. But, he immediately adds, we must distinguish between nature’s primary intention (principale consilium), and what Gellius calls some ‘necessary consequences’ (sequellae necessariae), which render the Greek παρακολούθησις, a word constructed from the verb ἀκολουθεῖν (to follow). What exactly these necessary consequences are is not yet clear, but we can at least say that they are rational, as shown by their consequential nature,64 and so also necessarily compatible with reason and providence. In this sense, Chrysippus says that while god (that is, nature) is responsible for amoral evils in the world (we should not look for another cause), he is not to be blamed for them, for it was not his primary intention to produce them: somehow, his deliberation (consilium) made their creation necessary. In the text, amoral evils are presented as disadvantageous things that come about ‘simultaneously’ (simul) with advantageous things as they are being created, and that unite with them. By this we must understand that Chrysippus resorts to his account of the inseparability of contraries which he has introduced in fr. 10. He is now about to explain what this inseparability owes to providence: T3-22 {[Fr. 11b] ‘Just as, he says, when nature was creating the bodies of humans, it was required for the enhancement of our rationality and

Chrysippus’ On Providence  89 for the very utility of the product (ratio subtilior et utilitas ipsa operis) that she should construct the head of very thin and tiny portions of bone, but this utility in the principal enterprise (sed hanc utilitatem rei maioris) had as a further, extraneous consequence the inconvenience (alia quaedam incommoditas extrinsecus consecuta est) that the head became thinly protected and fragile to small blows and knocks – so too, illnesses and diseases were created while health was being created’.} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.10–12 = SVF 2.1170 and 54Q2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) The example of the fragility of the head, which Chrysippus must have picked from Plato’s Timaeus,65 enables us to better understand the relationship between god’s principal intention (hereafter a) and the necessary consequences (b) mentioned in the previous passage. We already know that a is advantageous and b disadvantageous and that b comes about simultaneously with a and is inseparably united to it. Now we learn that the disadvantageous consequence that is b is in fact a direct consequence of a: it is not possible to have a, that is, in this case, rationality, without also having b, that is, without having a fragile head, the possession of which makes humans more liable to illnesses and injury and is thus disadvantageous. So, on the whole, the reason why human beings are more fragile and ultimately more likely to have a shorter rather than a longer life, is because of god’s decision (consilium) to provide them with a rational life, which is the best possible life available to an ensouled living being and so also, as Plato said in the Timaeus, a life ‘in every way preferable’.66 On this account, god or providence is indeed responsible for the disadvantage that the possession of a thin skull implies. But he should not be blamed for it because a fragile head and, more generally, short lifespan, were not god’s primary intention, only the unavoidable consequences of that intention. And now comes Chrysippus’ conclusion: T3-23 {[Fr. 11c] ‘Likewise, he says, while virtue was being created for humans in accordance with nature’s intention (per consilium naturae), at the same time vices were born, on account of their relationship of contrariety’ (per adfinitatem contrariam).} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.1.13 = SVF 2.1170 and 54Q3 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) In this text, the passage from the domain of amoral good and evil to that of virtue and vice is rather abrupt, and Gellius does not relate Chrysippus’ justification in full. In order to understand how Chrysippus can now extend his previous conclusions, concerning amoral evils, to moral evils, we must briefly look back at the case of the thin skull. For a Stoic, these sorts of bones are not in themselves good or bad, for, if they were, they would be either always advantageous or always disadvantageous.67 Thin head bones are

90  Chapter 3 rather simultaneously beneficial (rationality) and unbeneficial (short lifespan, illnesses). They thus provide a good illustration of how amoral good and evil are ‘joined to each other head to head’ (T3-19). Now, what would be the analogue of these bones in the domain of moral good and evil, that is, of virtue and vice? For a Stoic, the answer would be obvious: reason itself.68 Indeed, the Stoics conceive of the human soul as being fully rational, meaning that reason is the cause of everything a human being does, even what appear to be irrational movements. Passions, for instance, are only instances of rational, though erroneous, judgements.69 Only right reason, that is, virtue, is good, in the sense that it always results in beneficial outcomes. Reason, on the other hand, can be right or wrong and, in this sense, is analogous to the thin skull. We can see why Chrysippus is now in a position to state that god is responsible for the moral evils of human beings, but should nevertheless not be blamed for them. God is the one responsible for choosing to endow humans with reason, because reason is what is required for virtue (which is a sort of knowledge). By doing so, however, he also created the possibility for moral evils to occur, since vice is faulty reasoning, i.e. reason not based on knowledge. But god should not be blamed for making moral evils in the world possible because that is not what he primarily intended to produce, only the unavoidable consequences that result from the possession of reason. Like in Chrysippus’ argument about the head, god must have calculated the pros and cons of having a rational soul and running the risk of enduring moral evils, or of being deprived of a rational soul and being at the same time deprived of the possibility of the best and happiest life. Presented in this way, however, this seems an impossible choice to make, if indeed the simple possession of reason makes the chances of living a good or a bad life strictly equal. Yet, there is a way to explain why the choice of granting reason is always preferable. For a Stoic, reason is something naturally useful since it enables humans to follow (understand) what is going on in the world (and thus also to prepare for future events).70 That capacity for understanding makes reason naturally oriented towards the acquisition of knowledge and virtue (which are its telos). Being in possession of reason is not being in possession of something that is completely indifferent in terms of possible outcomes (good or bad).71 Whoever possesses reason possesses a formidable instrument with which to understand the world (since cosmic nature is itself rational) and thus to gain the knowledge that will bring with it virtue and happiness.72 The relationship which Chrysippus advocates in P between evils in the world (be they of a moral or amoral nature) and god is extremely original from a philosophical perspective, in particular if we compare it to what initially seems to be a very similar account, that of Plato. In the Theaetetus, Plato has Socrates say that: T3-24 It is not possible [a] that evil should be destroyed (Ἀλλ’ οὔτ’ ἀπολέσθαι τὰ κακὰ δυνατόν), Theodorus – for it is necessary that there

Chrysippus’ On Providence  91 always be something opposed to the good (ὑπεναντίον γάρ τι τῷ ἀγαθῷ ἀεὶ εἶναι ἀνάγκη) – or [b] that it should have its seat in heaven (οὔτ’ ἐνθεοῖς αὐτὰ ἱδρῦσθαι). But it must necessarily haunt human life, and prowl about this earth (τὴν δὲ θνητὴν φύσιν καὶ τόνδε τὸν τόπον περιπολεῖ ἐξ ἀνάγκης). (Pl. Tht. 176a5–8, trans. Burnyeat and Levett) There are striking similarities between Plato’s73 and Chrysippus’ accounts. In both this text and T3-17a, the impossibility (δυνατόν, potuisse) of the destruction of all evils is explained by the necessary connection (εἶναι ἀνάγκη, necessusm est) existing between good and evil based on their contrary natures. Both Plato and Chrysippus insist that contraries such as good and evil cannot exist separately. Although what is precisely meant by Plato in T3-24 is notoriously difficult to decipher, it is interesting to note that Socrates’ statement about the necessity of evils in the world [a] is immediately followed by one making god not responsible for them and restricting evils to earth and human affairs only [b]. In another famous passage, from the Myth of Er at the end of the Republic, the responsibility for moral action is strictly limited to human souls while god is being shielded from possible blame: ‘responsibility lies with the person who chooses; the god is not responsible (αἰτία ἑλομένου· θεὸς ἀναίτιος)’.74 Although the Stoics also insist on man’s responsibility for his choices and actions, it is worth noting that Chrysippus does not resort to that argument to prevent god from being blamed for the evils of the world. On the contrary, and I think this is of much significance, we have seen (in T3-21) that he does consider god to be responsible for them75 and only spares god the blame by explaining that evils are not part of god’s primary intention, for god only aims at the good. Nevertheless, evils are necessary consequences of god’s primary intention and since god is reason and reason is consequential in nature (see infra T3-27), then evils must be said to occur ‘in accordance with nature’, that is, in accordance with providence. When Chrysippus brings up man’s responsibility, it is in another context, namely, that of fate, as we will see in the final section of this chapter. But even there, he does not try to back down from his position that everything that happens in the world happens according to fate since he explains that human responsibility is indeed compatible with universal fate.76 So, in both his accounts of providence and fate, Chrysippus never tries to spare god the blame by resorting to the idea that human beings are responsible for their choices and actions. And the reason why that is so is because it is of paramount importance to him to maintain that reason, and reason alone, is the cause of everything in the world. That is what prompted Chrysippus, in P, to refuse Cleanthes’ accounts about fate and providence (in T2-17) and to defend and reinforce Zeno’s (according to which providence and fate are simply different names of god).

92  Chapter 3

3 Fate and moral responsibility Gellius’ other chapter (7.2) related to Chrysippus’ P mentions that, in P IV, Chrysippus gave a definition of fate (see infra T3-26). In Gellius’ account, this definition is part of an elaborate discussion about fate and moral responsibility, in which Chrysippus is presented as responding to the accusation that his doctrine of fate (that everything happens according to fate) deprives human beings of moral responsibility and makes the establishment of penalties for criminals unfair (see infra T3-28). It is not completely clear whether the whole discussion that Gellius reports was in fact originally in P, since only Chrysippus’ definition of fate is explicitly said to come from that treatise. Besides, we know that some of the material for that discussion was discussed in Chrysippus’ On Fate. We shall see, however, that there is indeed some ground for thinking that the account of Gellius is drawn from P (not necessarily exclusively, though).77 In our analysis, we shall not enter into a detailed study of the whole discussion reported by Gellius,78 but will rather try to identify, in this discussion about fate, features that have some bearing on the idea of providence. This shall help us to better understand the relationship between those two notions. 3.1 Chrysippus on fate Before examining Gellius’ text, let us take a brief look at the way Chrysippus presented fate in his various treatises: T3-25 [a] Chrysippus the substance (τὴν οὐσίαν) of fate is a power of breath (δύναμιν πνευματικήν), administering order of the all (τάξιν79 τοῦ παντὸς διοικητικήν). This he does in his second book On the World. [b] But in his second book On Seasons (or On Definitions?), in his books On Fate, and occasionally in others he puts forward various views, stating that ‘fate is the reason of the world (ὁ τοῦ κόσμου λόγος) or ‘the reason of the things in the world administered by providence’ (λόγος τῶν ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ προνοίᾳ διοικουμένων), or ‘the reason in accordance with which past events have happened, present events happen, and future events will happen’; [c] and instead of ‘reason’ he uses ‘truth’, ‘cause’, ‘nature’, and ‘necessity’ (τὴν ἀλήθειαν, τὴν αἰτίαν, τὴν φύσιν, τὴν ἀνάγκην), and adds other terms which apply to the same substance from different perspectives. (Stob. Ecl. 1.79.1–12 = SVF 2.913 and 55M L.-S., trans. Bobzien 1998, adapted) In Chrysippus’ physics, the craftsmanlike fire, that is god, becomes a breath (πνεῦμα), a mixture of fire and air that, thanks to their opposite qualities, is able to sustain and maintain the world.80 Since fate is, like providence or nature, one of the names of god, it is no surprise that Chrysippus describes

Chrysippus’ On Providence  93 [a] the material substance of fate as a power of breath.81 But god is also essentially reason, and thus fate is accordingly presented, in the various definitions of it reported by Stobaeus, as order (or rather ordering) and reason. One of these definitions is of particular importance to us [b] since it presents fate in relation to providence: fate is ‘the reason of the things in the world administered by providence’. Clearly, the relation is one of subordination: contrary to what the first definition suggests [a], where fate is presented as a governing power in its own right (‘administering order of the all’), fate is the reason or order of things that are, in fact, ultimately governed by providence. This agrees well, I think, with Calcidius’ report (see infra T2-17), according to which providence is god’s will and fate what is willed by god. The idea of a will of god implies that there is a goal or telos that god is aiming at and which is, principally, that the world should be preserved. In order for that will to be successful, a series of steps must be undertaken in an orderly way, and that series of steps is fate. Even if fate is subordinate to providence, it still is an appropriate name for god, according to Chrysippus, and that explains why he is constantly referring to it as ‘reason’. Fate refers to one particular dimension of reason, or rather reasoning, namely, its necessity [c]. In order to understand the connection between fate’s necessity and reason, we must try to grasp what is it that necessity commands. Chrysippus’ description of fate in P IV gives us an important piece of information: T3-26 {[Fr. 12] In On Providence book 4, Chrysippus says that fate (εἱμαρμένην) is a certain natural everlasting ordering of the whole (φυσικήν τινα σύνταξιν τῶν ὅλων ἐξ ἀϊδίου): one set of things follows on and succeeds another (τῶν ἑτέρων τοῖς ἑτέροις ἐπακολουθούντων καὶ μεταπολουμένων), and the interconnexion is inviolable (ἀπαραβάτου οὔσης τῆς τοιαύτης ἐπιπλοκῆς).} (Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.3 = SVF 2.1000 and 55K L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) Fate is a certain ordering (σύνταξις) or interconnection (ἐπιπλοκή) of things that is ἀπαράβατος, inviolable. More precisely, fate is a certain necessary sequence where ‘one set of things follows on (ἐπακολουθούντων) and succeeds another’. We find here again another instance of the verb ἀκολουθεῖν (to follow, come after), which Chrysippus uses in P IV in his explanation of the relation between god’s intention and the consequences that are following necessarily from it. Now, the idea of consequentiality also plays a fundamental part in reason, according to the Stoics, as can be seen from the following text: T3-27 Coming now to the actual mind and intellect of the human being, his reason, discernment and prudence (animum ipsum mentemque hominis, rationem, consilium, prudentiam), one who cannot see that these owe their perfection to divine providence (diuina cura) must in

94  Chapter 3 my view himself be devoid of these very faculties. While discussing this topic I could wish, Cotta, that I had the gift of your eloquence. How could not you describe first our powers of understanding (quanta primum intellegentia), and then our faculty of combining and perceiving consequences with antecedents (deinde consequentium rerum cum primis coniunctio et conprehensio), from which we can see what is effected by each thing and draw rational conclusions (ex quo uidelicet quid ex quibusque rebus efficiatur idque ratione concludimus), define concepts and grasp them in a concise manner. It is from this that we arrive at an understanding of the potency and the nature of knowledge (scientia), of which there is nothing superior, even in god. (Cic. ND 2.147, trans. Rackham, modified) Balbus, the spokesperson of the Stoa in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, presents man’s possession of reason as a manifestation of divine providence (diuina cura) and goes on to explain how perfect a faculty it is. For that, he presents reason as essentially syllogistic in its form,82 being a matter of ‘combining and perceiving (coniunctio et conprehensio) consequences with antecedents (consequentium rerum cum primis)’, and then drawing rational conclusions. As pointed out by Long and Sedley, in the Stoa, the validity of a syllogism is ‘primarily established by the Principle of Conditionalization’,83 according to which the premises and the conclusion stand, respectively, as antecedent and consequent of a conditional argument. So, the argument84 (P1) ‘It is day’, and (P2) ‘If it is day, it is light’, then (C) ‘It is light’ is valid because the conclusion necessarily ‘follows’ (ἀκολουθεῖ) from the combination of the two premises that stand as its causal antecedent. The insistence that fate is reason (T3-25), and the way fate’s necessity is presented by Chrysippus as consequential in nature (T3-26), makes the relation between fate and reason quite clear: the necessity of fate in the world refers to the necessity within god’s reasoning about the best way to follow in order to achieve the perfection and preservation of the world. 3.2 Nature’s provision against the misfortunes of fate The close relationship between god, providence and fate makes a discussion about fate in a treatise on providence completely natural. Yet it remains to be seen in what precise sense Chrysippus’ account of fate and moral responsibility is related to the idea of providence. Let us start by reminding ourselves of T1-5 where Zeno describes universal nature as a craftsman (artifex), ‘deliberating and providing of every advantage and opportunity’. The key feature of Stoic providence is the idea that god or nature has provided the world (and its parts) with some form of assistance. As we shall see in Chapter 6, when it comes to human beings, god has provided them with the means not only to live, but to live well, that is, to live a happy life unimpeded (see infra T6-1 and T6-13 with commentary). Impediment is a fate-related

Chrysippus’ On Providence  95 issue since, contrary to providence, fate is usually seen by human beings as a negative, constraining external force. That is precisely the way it is portrayed by those who oppose Chrysippus’ doctrine of fate85: T3-28 They say: If Chrysippus believes that all things are set in motion and ruled by fate and that it is not possible for the paths and coils of fate to be bent or transcended, then the sins and misdeeds of human beings, too, should not cause anger or be attributed to themselves and their wills (ipsis uoluntatibusque eorum), but to a certain necessity and importunity which arises from fate (necessitati cuidam et instantiae, quae oritur ex fato), which is the mistress and arbiter of all things, through which it is necessary that whatever is going to happen, happens; and because of this the establishing of penalties for criminals by laws is unfair, if human beings do not do evils voluntarily (non sponte), but are dragged by fate (fato trahuntur). (Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.5 = SVF 2.1000, trans. Bobzien 1998) Fate is here presented as a constraining force and its necessity a form of importunity (instantia), or, more precisely, a kind of external pressure dragging human beings against their will. If fate thus conceived governs everything happening to human beings, then, the argument goes, criminals are not responsible for their evil actions since they are not done voluntarily (sponte), and it is therefore unfair to condemn them. Here is Chrysippus’ reply, in which we find him introducing the idea of providence: T3-29 [a] Although, he says, it is the case that all things are assembled and linked (coacta atque conexa) by fate through a certain necessary and originating reason (ut ratione quadam necessaria et principali), none the less, how much the dispositions of our minds are subject to fate ( fato obnoxia) depends on their characteristic qualities. [b] For if they have been formed by nature initially in a healthy and beneficial way (si sunt per naturam primitus salubriter utiliterque ficta), they transmit all that force which descends upon them through fate from outside in a rather undisturbed and accommodating manner (inoffensius tractabiliusque). [c] But if they are uncouth, uneducated, and uncultured (Sin uero sunt aspera et inscita et rudia), and not supported by a good education (nullisque artium bonarum adminiculis fulta), then, even if they are pressed by little or no collision with fated inconveniences ( fatalis incommodi), none the less, through their own perversity and voluntary impulse (sua tamen scaevitate et uoluntario impetu), they plunge themselves into continuous misdeeds and errors. (Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.7–8 = SVF 2.1000 and 62D1–2 L.-S., trans. Bobzien 1998, modified) Although fate’s essential characteristic is the necessity of its unfolding [a], it is not the case that fate implies, by itself, compulsion or constrain, if by

96  Chapter 3 that what one means is for human beings to act against their will. For, faced with the same misfortunes, two persons with different mental dispositions will not react the same way. Chrysippus distinguishes two cases. The first [b] concerns those dispositions of the mind that have been ‘formed by nature initially in a healthy and beneficial way’. I believe what Chrysippus is referring to here is the ideal initial natural state of the human soul, before what the Stoics call its ‘perversion’ or διαστροφή (on which see already Chapter 2, section 5.3, and also Chapter 7, section 1.2). It is a fundamental tenet of Stoic anthropology that human nature is beneficial and that, were it not for external interference, it would freely lead human beings to happiness.86 Stoic naturalism makes the source of evils (e.g. vices, passions) external: human beings are falsely persuaded about the nature of the good either by the opinion of the many or by the effect of certain impressions upon them (see T7-21, with commentary). So, by design ( ficta sunt), human nature is meant to make it so that human beings remain ‘undisturbed’ (inoffensius) by external obstacles: rather than opposing them, they ‘accommodate to them’ (tractabilius). The text does not spell out how this is so, but it is clear that what Chrysippus has in mind is the ‘amor fati’ doctrine, according to which one should embrace and love whatever happens, that is, to ‘will’ it.87 Although the Stoics probably viewed the perversion of the human nature as something quite inevitable (but see T8-10), the fact that all human beings are originally granted a beneficial nature is what makes it possible for them, thanks to a ‘good education’ (artium bonarum), to later recover their original nature and thus lead a happy (unimpeded) life.88 The second case distinguished by Chrysippus [c] refers to the disposition of the mind of those who have not been correctly trained and educated. In that case, ignorance makes human beings vulnerable (obnoxia) to fate: even the lightest of blows is sufficient to trigger the strongest of rejections on the part of the ignorant, who, instead of willing and embracing whatever happens to him or her, wills something else. Only such an adverse will bring ‘fated inconveniences’ ( fatalis incommodi). In all this passage, and contrary to the rest of Chrysippus’ account,89 the emphasis is not so much on the responsibility of human beings for their bad actions than on the resources they have been provided with by nature to help them face any possible external challenge. In other words, the main reason here why human beings should stop blaming fate (or god) for their misdeeds and errors is not that they are in fact the cause of their own actions, but rather that they have been granted, from the beginning, everything they need to lead a happy life.90 If there is responsibility on the part of human beings, it is more in relation to themselves than to their actions: responsibility, for human beings, is to look after their soul (or mind) since it is the most important part of them and is of divine origin. Its neglect is ultimately the cause of ignorance which, in turn, is the cause of the bad actions of criminals.

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Notes 1 Dorandi 1999: 50–51. 2 See D.L. 7.183 where it is famously said that without Chrysippus there would have been no Stoa. 3 This is based on the extant fragments (see supra for a detailed list). 4 There have been two attempts at gathering together fragments from Chrysippus’ P, one by Alfred Gercke (1885: 691–714), the other by Hans von Arnim (1903– 1905: vol. 3, 203). Gercke identified 33 fragments in total, 18 (fr. 1–18) related to P I, seven (fr. 19–25) to P II and eight (fr. 26–33) to P IV. The fragments of P II are all from a very damaged and often illegible scroll from Herculaneum. Although these fragments are not completely worthless (‘etsi pauca tamen non uilia docent’, says Gercke 1885: 692), they are nevertheless not philosophically relevant to the reconstruction I am attempting here and I shall therefore not take them into account. Many of Gercke’s fragments are not explicitly presented, in their original context, as related to Chrysippus’ P, and that is why I have chosen to follow von Arnim’s more conservative selection. 5 Immediately following our passage, Diogenes quotes Apollodorus of Athens, an Epicurean who compared Chrysippus’ production to that of Epicurus and stated that the latter, who ‘wrote with force and originality unaided by quotation’, was a far more productive thinker. Chrysippus was similarly attacked by Carneades, head of the sceptical Academy (see D.L. 10.26–27). 6 As already pointed out in the Introduction, the famous tripartition of philosophy into logic, physics and ethics, which the Stoics advocated, was meant to be interpreted in a holistic manner. The Stoics used various images to show the interconnection and inseparability of the three parts, like those of an animal or an egg. See D.L. 7.40 = SVF 2.38 and 26B3 L.-S. 7 The numbering of these fragments is my own. Fragments with an asterisk are those that our sources do not attribute to a particular book in P. 8 Since Chrysippus defended the view that the existence of divination followed from that of god and providence (see supra T1-9 and T1-11), it is probable that he devoted a section of P to that topic. 9 It is possible that, in this last book, Chrysippus discussed the political dimension of providence, and thus cosmopolitanism. For that suggestion, see Gourinat 2012a: 78. 10 A partial confirmation of this is found in T3-16. 11 Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 5.3.905A = Aëtius, Placita 5.3.5, p. 1784 M.-R. The expression may not necessarily be Epicurus’ own, though. 12 See D.L. 8.28. 13 See Epict. D. 2.8.11. 14 Although this is not what the second argument explicitly states, it must also be part of the conclusion one can draw from it, since, in the initial section of the text, the world is not only said to be an animate being, but also one that is rational and intelligent. We shall return to that argument in Chapter 10, in our study of T10-23. 15 See Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 4.21.903A-B = Aëtius, Placita 4.21.1, p. 1710 M.-R., SVF 2.836 and 53H1 L.-S. 16 See Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 4.21.903B = Aëtius, Placita 4.21.1, p. 1710 M.-R., SVF 2.836 and 53H2 L.-S. 17 I am following here the interpretation of T. Bénatouïl (2009a: 35). We shall return to the passage and to the question of the sense-perception of the cosmos in Chapter 10, section 4.1. 18 A few lines only separate the first part of the text, where P is mentioned, from the second part, where Achilles reports arguments that he attributes to the Stoics.

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29 30 31

32 33 34 35

Chapter 3 Between the two, Achilles makes a short excursus about Epicureans rejecting signs of the zodiac and how Posidonius responded to them. See Posidonius F149 E.-K. This information is not given in the fragment but can safely be added here, thanks to the parallel text of Cic. ND 1.39–41 = SVF 2.1077. See the commentary in Vassalo 2015: 99–105. On Stoic allegory, see Long 1992; Boys-Stones 2003, 2018a: 25–28; Most 1989, 2010 and 2016; Ramelli 2003: 87–95. For references, see Most 2010: 29–30. Pl. Tim. 40e. I take it that this is what is meant by Timaeus when he says that ‘it is beyond our [i.e. the philosophers’] abilities (μεῖζον ἢ καθ’ ἡμᾶς) to explain and come to know their origin’ (Pl. Tim. 40d). See Pl. Tim. 40e. While Timaeus’ account is presented as a ‘likely’ one (see Pl. Tim. 29d), it is clearly also a rigorous one, and there is no place in it for the poets’ accounts since they lack both those qualities. See Pl. Phdr. 229c-230a. See D.L. 7.141 = SVF 2.589 and 46J L.-S. My account of the position Chrysippus adopted with regard to the question of the destructibility of the world differs from that defended by Ricardo Salles in his 2009b study. According to Salles, Chrysippus departed from Cleanthes in that, while both accepted the idea of a conflagration of the world, Chrysippus defended the view that the world is in fact indestructible. It is not possible here to enter into the particulars of Salles’ interpretation. I shall only point out two things. First of all, none of our extant fragments state that Chrysippus ever endorsed the view that the world is indestructible. In fact, one text (see infra T4-3a) clearly suggests the opposite, since it contrasts Chrysippus’ views (along with Zeno’s, Cleanthes’, Posidonius’ and Antipater of Tyre’s) to Panaetius’ (who is presented as believing that ‘the world is indestructible’). Second, Salles never refers to T3-7, in which the Stoics (and, first of all, Chrysippus himself, who probably authored that doctrine) distinguish between the three senses of the term ‘world’. One of the reasons why they made those distinctions was to explain in what sense the world can be said to be destructible, and in what sense it cannot. The only sense in which the world can be recognized as indestructible is qua god, that is, as the craftsmanlike fire that Zeus is. There is no reason to believe that Cleanthes would have objected, and so no reason either to think that Chrysippus intended to part company with him on this issue. See Plut. Com. not. 44.1083C-D = 28A L.-S. and, in general, the texts selected in Long and Sedley 1987, Chapter 28. On the question of identity and its preservation through time in Stoicism, see Sedley 1982. This is one of the two arguments put forward by the Stoics in D.L. 7.141 = SVF 2.589 and 46J L.-S. In Chapter 2, section 3, we saw that the craftsmanlike fire (just as any kind of fire) of celestial beings needs to consume in order to maintain itself and that the itinerary of the sun around the earth, according to Cleanthes, corresponds to that of a hypothetical equatorial ocean the vapours of which nourish it. See St. rep. 38.1051E: ‘No one supposes god to be subject to destruction and generation (φθαρτὸν δὲ καὶ γενητὸν οὐδεὶς ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν διανοεῖται θεόν)’. Trans. Cherniss. See St. rep. 38.1051F: ‘We conceive god to be an animate being, blessed and indestructible and beneficent towards humans (θεὸν τοίνυν νοοῦμεν ζῷον μακάριον καὶ ἄφθαρτον καὶ εὐποιητικὸν ἀνθρώπων)’. Trans. Cherniss. See Long 1990. Cic. ND 2.46.

Chrysippus’ On Providence 99 36 It may come as a surprise that providence is not included in the preconception of god that we have according to the Stoics. We shall see, in Chapter 5, section 2, that it is a form of truth that can only be obtained through right reasoning. See T5-3. 37 In one of the badly preserved fragments of P II edited by Gercke 1885 (his fr. 22), we see Chrysippus mentioning (approvingly, we may assume) the three following traditional epithets of Zeus: ‘Saviour’ (σωτήρ), ‘God of friendship’, ‘God of hospitality’. 38 See Pl. Tim. 33c-d, trans. Waterfield. 39 See Pl. Phd. 64c. 40 See Plut. Com. not. 44.1083C = 28A L.-S.: ‘Growth and diminution are modifications of a body that persists and is their substrate (τὸ δ’ αὔξεσθαι καὶ τὸ μειοῦσθαι πάθη σώματός ἐστιν ὑποκειμένου καὶ διαμένοντος)’. Trans. Cherniss. 41 That process is well described in Eus. PE 15.19.1–3 = SVF 2.599 and 52D L.-S. 42 It seems likely that the following passage echoes a point Chrysippus made in P, since we have seen that in this treatise he stresses that Zeus alone is indestructible. What he certainly did not say, however, is what Plutarch adds at the end of the passage, namely, that Zeus and providence ‘come together and persist in the single substance of the aether’. Plutarch is actually trying to force upon Chrysippus the conclusion that two peculiarly qualified beings (Zeus and providence) occupy one single substance, the possibility of which was in fact rejected by Chrysippus. That same criticism was also made by Philo, in Aet. mundi 47–51. On this, see Long 1985: 23. 43 According to Alexander of Aphrodisias (In An. pr. 180.33–36 = 52F1 L.-S.), Chrysippus held the same view also in his On the World. 44 See Long 1985: 29–30, where the author interprets the Stoic conception of time as circular. A passage from Philo of Alexandria (Aet. mundi 52 = 52A2 L.-S.) indicates that the Stoics held that time also includes the conflagration, which is coherent with Chrysippus’ insistence that the world does not die, as well as his view of time as the ‘dimension of the world’s motion’ (see Simp. In Cat. 350.15–16 = SVF 2.510 and 51A L.-S.). 45 See Alex. In An. pr. 181.25–31 = SVF 2.624 and 52F2-3 L.-S. 46 See Barnes 1978:10 and Long 1985: 27. 47 This is already suggested by Gercke 1885: 712. 48 It is true that Chrysippus does not here explicitly mention the idea (expressed in the two citations of Heraclitus) that harmony is the natural outcome of the coexistence of opposing forces, but we have seen (see infra T3-6) that in his On Nature, he claimed, like Heraclitus (see R53 L.-M.), that ‘war and Zeus are the same’, which certainly conveys the idea that Zeus or the world, which is harmonious and perfect, implies opposing and yet converging forces. 49 See Ar. Top. 8.5.159b30–33 = Heraclitus R41 L.-M., trans. Laks and Most: That is why too those who cite others’ opinions, for example that the good and the evil are the same thing, as Heraclitus said, do not concede that the contraries are not present at the same time in the same thing (οὐ διδόασι μὴ παρεῖναι ἅμα τῷ αὐτῷ τἀναντία), not because this is not their own opinion, but because this is what one must say according to Heraclitus. 50 51 52 53 54

See infra T10-9a and b, and D.L. 7.104–105 = SVF 3.119, 3.126 and 58B L.-S. See Plut. St. rep. 30.1048A = SVF 3.139 and 58H L.-S. That has already been observed by Bryan 2013: 77–78. See also Long 1968: 333. See texts in section 61 of Long and Sedley. Chrysippus’ point is, once again, probably indebted to Heraclitus: ‘They would not know the name of Justice if these things [i.e. unjust actions?] did not exist’ (Clem. Strom. 4.3.10.1 = 55D L.-M., trans. Laks and Most).

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55 See Pl. Rep. 2.379c5–6 (‘good things are fewer than bad ones in our lives’). See also Ar. EN 2.1106b28–34 (‘evil belongs to the indefinite, as the Pythagoreans portrayed it, and the good to the limited’, ‘missing the target is easy, hitting it is difficult’). Aristotle also quotes from an unknown source, which he takes as indicative that this is a widely held view: ‘Good people are just good, while bad people are bad in all sorts of ways’ (EN 2.1106b35). 56 There is no reason to think that because the Stoics defended the view that providence is active everywhere it would be impossible for them to acknowledge, like Plato and Aristotle, that there is considerably more vice than virtue in human affairs. In fact, their very strict conception of virtue makes it obvious that they must have accepted it. One should note also, in this respect, that Plato, who, as we have already seen in the previous note, claims that ‘good things are fewer than bad ones in our lives’, nevertheless defends in Laws X the view that god’s providence is total and extends even to minute details (on which, see Chapter 1, section 4). 57 Good fortune is recognized as a good necessary for happiness by Aristotle (see EN 1.1100a, on Priam’s misfortunes), and pleasure is, of course, the good according to Epicurus (see Ep. Men. 129 = 21B L.-S.). 58 Bryan 2013: 63. 59 For the inseparability of good and evil in Plato, see Tht. 176a5–8, quoted below (T3-24). 60 One of the major theses in the Phaedo is the idea that while opposites can coexist in a material substrate (102b) (e.g. Simmias can be said to be both tall and short), the Forms of a pair of opposite cannot coexist (see 103b): it is simply impossible for the tall itself to be short, and vice versa. That explains why, in Phd. 102e, Socrates says that tallness does not admit its opposite, the short, and that when it is approached by the short, ‘either it flees and retreats (ἢ φεύγειν καὶ ὑπεκχωρεῖν) … or it is destroyed (ἀπολωλέναι)’. In this case, the relation between contraries is no longer one where two entities are actively opposing one another, but is rather one of mutual exclusion and separation. 61 It is also the same verb that Chrysippus uses to describe the necessary consecution that is at the heart of fate (see T3-26), that is, of god’s reason. 62 For a parallel claim, see Plut. St. rep. 33.1049E = SVF 2.1125. 63 Although this is not explicitly stated in the text, the vocabulary used by Chrysippus here (conuenio) is a clear indication that he is relying on our preconception (πρόληψις, ἔννοια) of nature. 64 See infra T3-26 and T3-27 with commentary for an examination of the relation between reason and consequentiality. 65 Pl. Tim. 74e1–75c7. 66 See Pl. Tim. 75c3: παντὶ πάντως αἱρετέον. 67 See D.L. 7.103 = 58A6 L.-S. 68 On the ambivalence of reason, see Bénatouïl 2007: 97–112. 69 See Stob. Ecl. 2.88.22–89.3 = SVF 3.378 and 65C L.-S. 70 This is an aspect of reason that we shall study more fully in the next chapter. See in particular T4-13b. 71 See Long 1974: 182: ‘By endowing man with reason (logos) Nature has ensured that every man will be and do either good or bad. But Nature’s own dispensation is not morally neutral. Man is naturally equipped “with impulses to virtue” or “seeds of knowledge”, and this equipment is sufficient to direct human reason in the right direction (SVF i 566; Sen. Ep. 120, 4)’. On the power of human nature to drive refractory human beings towards their true telos, see infra the case of Epicurus in T7-36 and T7-37. 72 Often, the Stoics will simply speak of λόγος, while what they really mean is ὀρθὸς λόγος, right reason. That is the case, for instance, when they say that the active

Chrysippus’ On Providence 101 principle (god) is reason (see D.L. 7.134 = SVF 2.300 and 44B2 L.-S.). I think that is significant and reflects the fact that ὀρθὸς λόγος is not simply one species of λόγος (the one that corresponds to knowledge), but the excellence of λόγος or λόγος at its perfection. While there is a natural path that goes from λόγος, as faculty of understanding, to ὀρθὸς λόγος, there is none between λόγος and ignorance. 73 See also Pl. Rep. 2.379b-c. 74 Pl. Rep. 10.617e4–5. 75 In Bryan 2013: 74–75, writing about the case of the fragility of the head, the author says that [i]nsofar as this fragility is a consequence of his choice of material, it is in that sense caused by nature. But, insofar as it is a necessary consequence as opposed to the primary goal of nature’s creative activities, god himself is not responsible for this particular evil. The Stoic god is bound by the physical laws that he himself has set in place. (My emphasis)

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Ifail to see how god being bound by the laws he has himself set in place shields him from being responsible for the unfortunate consequences that come with the possession of a fragile head. One must, I think, distinguish between cause and responsibility on the one hand, and blame on the other: if god is the cause of the fragility of the head, he must be said responsible for it, even if that does not imply that one should blame him for that. In general, I think that any attempt to strip the Stoic god of responsibility goes against the effort of the Stoics (in particular Chrysippus) to maintain that reason, and reason alone, is cause of everything. As reported by Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 1.27.885A = Aëtius, Placita 1.27.3, p. 672 M.-R., the ‘because of us (παρ’ ἡμᾶς)’, which stands for human agency in early Stoicism, is included into the series of causes that fate is. However, Cic. Fat. 41 = 62C5 L.-S. may be read as meaning that Chrysippus’ series of causes included essentially, if not exclusively, auxiliary causes (whereas the ‘because of us’ is, to use Chrysippus’ terminology, a ‘complete and primary’ cause, that is, a cause in its truest sense). That was certainly Cicero’s own reading (see Cic. Top. 58–59), and some commentators interpret Stoic fate the same way (e.g. Koch 2019: 77, and 352), that is, as series of causes that include only antecedent and external causes and not what is in our power (τὸ ἐφ’ ἡμῖν). But, as Plut. St. rep. 1056B-C = 55R L.S. explains, this interpretation would make fate something far weaker than the ‘invincible, unblockable and inflexible cause’ Chrysippus thought it was, and so I do not think it is the right interpretation to ascribe to him or in general to the Stoics. For Stoic fate as a series of causes that includes both type of causes (and thus also human agency), see Sauvé Meyer 1999: 259–273. In Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.6 = SVF 2.1000 and 62D1 L.-S., Gellius says he is presenting the one central point Chrysippus is making ‘in virtually all his writings on the issue’, which suggests that he is relying on more than one sources. For a meticulous and illuminating analysis of Aul. Gel. NA 7.2 and other related passages, see Bobzien 1998: 234–271 and 290–301. I follow Bobzien 1998: 48 and read τάξιν instead of τάξει. See Alex. Mixt. 224.14–26 = SVF 2.442 and 47I L.-S. In Stoic physics, fire and air are active elements (see Nem. Nat. hom. 5.164 = SVF 2.418 and 47D L.-S.) and thus best representative of god’s governing power. That observation was already made by Pease 1955–1958: 933. Long and Sedley 1987 (vol. 1): 219. See S.E. PH 2.137 = 36B3 L.-S. and FDS 1058. The Stoics, however, do not limit fate to external events since they see human nature as a cause that is included into fate. Therefore, even if the Stoic sage can

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stay undisturbed by external events (as explained in T3-29), his actions can still be said to occur in accordance with fate. 86 See Long 1974: 182 (already quoted supra). 87 See Epict. Ench. 8 and T10-30. 88 Epictetus explains that getting an education (τὸ παιδεύεσθαι) means learning to bring our will in line with the way things happen (μανθάνειν ἕκαστα οὕτω θέλειν ὡς γίνεται). And how do they happen? As the one who arranges them has arranged them (ὡς διέταξεν αὐτὰ ὁ διατάσσων). (Epict. D. 1.12.15, trans. Dobbin, modified) 89 See the image of the cylinderic stone (i.e. the mental disposition of a human being) that rolls not because it has been initially pushed, but because of its own nature and shape (Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.11 = SVF 2.1000 and 62D4 L.-S.). Ultimately, says Chrysippus, harmful things happen to humans ‘because of them’ (παρ’ αὐτούς) (Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.12 = SVF 2.1000 and 62D L.-S.). On this expression, see, in particular, Gourinat 2007 and 2014: 144–147. 90 A powerful treatment of that question is given by Marcus Aurelius, as whe shall see in Chapter 8, section 2.

4

Panaetius on providence

After Chrysippus, we have no direct evidence of other Stoic treatises on providence before Panaetius. Before attempting to recover some of Panaetius’ doctrines about that topic, it is important to first introduce Panaetius himself. For, according to various sources, it appears that Panaetius (185 or 180–110/109 B.C.),1 the last official head of the Stoa in Athens, was not a typical Stoic. In particular, he is reported to have held in great respect, and even admiration, philosophers such as Plato,2 Aristotle and other members of the Academy and of the Peripatetic school: T4-1a He was indeed very much an admirer of Plato and an admirer of Aristotle (φιλοπλάτων καὶ φιλοαριστοτέλης) and he relaxed (παρενέδωκε) some of the doctrines of Zeno because of the Academy and the Peripatos. (Philod. Stoic. col. LXI Dorandi = Panaetius fr. 1 Alesse) T4-1b Panaetius deserted the sternness and severity (tristitiam atque asperitatem) of theirs (sc. the Stoics). He had no time either for the harshness of their views (acerbitatem sententiarum) or their tortured way of arguing for them. His doctrines were gentler (mitior), and his style more lucid. As his own writings show, Plato and Aristotle were always on his lips; Xenocrates, Theophrastus and Dicaearchus too. (Cic. Fin. 4.79 = Panaetius fr. 72 Alesse, trans. Woolf, adapted) T4-1c Whilst he (sc. Panaetius) calls him (sc. Plato) at every mention of his name inspired, the wisest, the most saintly of all, the Homer of philosophers, he yet fails to approve of this one opinion of his about the immortality of the soul. (Cic. Tusc. 1.79 = Panaetius fr. 120 Alesse, trans. King) We have seen that Chrysippus would not hesitate to quote from many sources (see T3-1 and T3-6), poetical and philosophical, but Panaetius’ attitude is clearly of a different sort: he appears enthusiastic with the works by leading figures of the Academy and the Peripatos, so much so, reports the Epicurean Philodemus, that he ‘relaxed’ some of Zeno’s doctrines. A similar DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-4

104  Chapter 4 idea seems to be at work also in the De finibus passage where Cicero (the character) introduces Panaetius as a less austere and severe Stoic than his predecessors – both in terms of doctrines and style3 – who was open to theories and ways of arguing of Plato, Aristotle and their respective schools. At the same time, as is implied in T4-1a and in the Tusculan passage, Panaetius never became an Academic (or a Peripatetic). Indeed, contrary to the Academic Antiochus, whose views about the general unity between the Early Academy, the Peripatos and the Stoa appears to have been anticipated by Panaetius,4 and who was sometimes accused of being a Stoic in disguise,5 Panaetius’ Stoic credentials were never questioned,6 despite the influence of Plato and Aristotle on his work. It is not the place here to broach the difficult question of what exactly that influence amounted to. Still, we are going to see that some of their doctrines played a key part in Panaetius’ doctrine of providence.

1 Panaetius’ On Providence The only completely secure information concerning Panaetius’ On Providence [hereafter P] is that he wrote it and that Cicero asked for it to be sent to him: T4-2 I should be grateful if you would send me Brutus’ abridgement of Caelius’ history and get Panaetius’ On Providence (∏αναιτíου περì ∏ρονοíας) from Philoxenus. (Cic. Ad Att. 13.8 = Panaetius fr. 18 Alesse) It is the only mention of Panaetius’ P that we have. Cicero does not explain why he needs the book,7 but the date of the letter – 9th of June 45 – makes it a possibility8 that he requested it for the writing of his On the Nature of the Gods (started in August 45)9 and perhaps also his On Divination (composed in January – March 44).10 The difficulty with this hypothesis is that Panaetius is only named once in On the Nature of the Gods (at 2.118), in a passage where his doctrine in favour of the eternity of the world is only indirectly reported. His explicit presence in On Divination is much stronger, since he is named there six times, often in order to recall his doubts about the reality of divination, and Cicero also attributes some arguments against astrology to him (see infra T4-10 and T4-11). At the same time, five months separate Cicero’s letter from the moment he started his dialogue on divination, which could make the connection with P doubtful. Although that cannot be independently proven, I believe that the two main philosophical stances that Cicero ascribes to Panaetius – his rejection of the conflagration and his doubts about divination – were likely discussed by him in P.11 For one thing, conflagration was a very important topic in Chrysippus’ P and it is only natural that Panaetius may have wanted to discuss it in his eponymous treatise. For another, as we have seen in Chapter

Panaetius on providence  105 1, the previous generations of Stoics, including Zeno and Chrysippus, advocated the view that the existence of divination necessarily follows from that of god and providence (see supra T1-9 and T1-11). It is therefore possible that Chrysippus’ P contained a section on divination, and so also would have Panaetius’ P, even if it was only for expressing his doubts about it.

2 The world is indestructible One distinctive doctrine of Panaetius is that he denied12 the destructibility of the world-qua-world-order, and so also the doctrine of conflagration: T4-3a The generation and the destruction of the world (περὶ δὴ οὖν τῆς γενέσεως καὶ φθορᾶς τοῦ κόσμου) are discussed by Zeno in his treatise On the Universe, by Chrysippus in the first book of his On Nature, by Posidonius in the first book of his work On the World, by Cleanthes, and by Antipater13 in his tenth book On the World. Panaetius, however, declared that the world is indestructible (Παναίτιος δ’ ἄφθαρτον ἀπεφήνατο τὸν κόσμον). (D.L. 7.142 = Panaetius fr. 132 Alesse, trans. Hicks, adapted) T4-3b Boethus of Sidon and Panaetius, powerful supporters of the Stoic doctrines, did under divine inspiration abandon the conflagrations and regenerations (τὰς ἐκπυρώσεις καὶ παλιγγενεσίας καταλιπόντες) and deserted to the more religious doctrine that the whole world was indestructible (τὸ τῆς ἀφθαρσίας τοῦ κόσμου παντὸς). (Phil. Aet. mundi 76, trans. Colson = Panaetius fr. 131 Alesse and 46P L.-S.) At first sight, we might think that Panaetius’ denial of the conflagration must have created a huge disturbance in the Stoa,14 all the more so since Philo associates the name of Panaetius with that of Boethus of Sidon,15 a renegade Stoic who denied not only the conflagration,16 but also some other possibly related Stoic doctrines, in particular the doctrines that the world is ensouled17 and that it is divine through and through (Boethus limited the domain of divinity to the heavens).18 But we do not have evidence that Panaetius’ followed Boethus’ stance as regards these other doctrines. As to the first one, it is important to recall here that, by the time of Panaetius, doubts about and even denial of the conflagration had become the standard position of the Stoa.19 Indeed, by all appearances, the ἐκπύρωσις doctrine has only been held continuously within the Stoa from the time of Zeno of Citium to that of Chrysippus, i.e. during the third century B.C. The situation during the second century B.C. seems quite the opposite: Zeno of Tarsus, who succeeded Chrysippus as the head of the School, is reported by Arius Didymus to have denied the conflagration20; Diogenes of Babylon (230 – 150/40), who succeeded Zeno of Tarsus, ‘in his old age started doubting and

106  Chapter 4 suspended his judgment’ on that question21; regarding Antipater of Tarsus, sixth scholarch of the Stoa and Panaetius’ predecessor, it has been plausibly argued22 that he may have also denied the conflagration.23 The general consensus among commentators is that it was external pressure that led the Stoics to give up the doctrine of conflagration and endorse the view that the world is indestructible. Anthony Long, in an important study already mentioned in the previous chapter, holds that the pressure came from the Sceptical Academy’s arguments against the Stoic preconception of god.24 As to Panaetius, it has been suggested that he was persuaded by Aristotelian arguments,25 either directly or through sceptic arguments.26 An Aristotelian influence is indeed likely, since the Peripatetic school was the only one that defended the eternity of the world, and we have seen that Panaetius was an admirer of Aristotle. Francesca Alesse has drawn attention to one particular argument of the Peripatetic school, which we find in Alexander of Aphrodisias: T4-4 Taking these changes [humid places on the surface of the earth that are losing their humidity because of dryness, and dryness making inhabitable places uninhabitable] as signs (σημείοις), [those philosophers] think that there is a conflagration of the world, like, before Aristotle, Heraclitus and those who share his opinion, and, after him, the Stoics: from that, they conclude that there is a generation and corruption of the whole. (…) But it is absurd (ἄτοπον) that insignificant changes (βραχείας μεταβολὰς) can affect the universe and make it generated and destructible, for the size of the earth (τῆς γῆς μέγεθος) is nothing compared to the whole universe (οὐδέν ἐστιν ὡς πρὸς ὅλον τὸν οὐρανὸν παραβαλλόμενον). (Alex. Meteorol. 62.4–11 = SVF 2.594) Alexander is reporting an argument against the Stoics that initially originates in Aristotle’s27 criticism of thinkers who incorrectly infer the existence of change and corruption on the level of the whole from the existence of change and corruption on the level of the parts. The Stoics, says Alexander, see signs of a future cosmic conflagration in changes that occur on earth, such as the evaporation of humidity and the drying out of some formerly inhabitable places. But they are wrong, he claims, because it is absurd to think that such insignificant changes could have any effect on the universe as a whole. The error of the Stoics, here, seems to be that they fail to properly measure the size of the earth and therefore appreciate the fact that earth represents only a tiny part of the universe, incapable of causing any real transformation to it. Although we don’t have evidence that this particular kind of argument directly influenced Panaetius, it would fit well with other things we know about him, in particular the importance he seems to have given to reason – rather than sense-perception – as a criterion of truth. We will see that Panaetius appears to have endorsed the Platonic view that sense-perceptions are

Panaetius on providence  107 unreliable and that reason alone should be trusted (see infra T4-11 and T413b). In the case of cosmology, proper measurement (based on mathematics) is of paramount importance and enables us to refute doctrines that are based on sense-perception. It is therefore possible that Panaetius, who was renowned for his expertise in cosmology, as we will later see (T4-7 and T4-8), would have agreed that, thanks to a proper measurement of the world and its parts, we can refute the idea that what happens on earth has any significant effect on the universe itself. Even if Panaetius appears to have been influenced by doctrines and arguments of other schools, it would be a mistake to think that his rejection of the doctrine of conflagration was the result of foreign influences and that it is his love for Aristotle and others that led him to defend such an apparently un-Stoic view of the world.28 For one thing, as we’ve seen, his denial of cosmic conflagration was in line with the position adopted by all previous Stoics after Chrysippus’ death. For another, there are strong reasons to believe that he meant his rejection of conflagration as a way to strengthen Stoicism, especially the Stoic doctrine of providence. To see that, we must first remember that if Chrysippus had to include the topic of conflagration in his P, it was first of all in order to defend the view that conflagration, although it implies the destruction of the world, does not contradict divine providence (see Chapter 3, sections 1.4 and 1.5). For that, the Stoics (most probably Chrysippus) had to introduce subtle distinctions between three senses of the word ‘cosmos’ (T3-7) and argue that in one particular sense (the most important one according to Chrysippus), the world cannot be said to die since, during the conflagration, it becomes co-extended with Zeus, the only god that is truly indestructible (T3-11). Still, on Chrysippus’ own account, a Stoic would have to concede that the world-qua-world-order and qua-compound are not preserved from the effects of time and age, and that ultimately they shall be destroyed. It is not difficult therefore to see the benefit in getting rid of the doctrine of conflagration, since that would allow the view that providence’s main task – ‘that the world be best fitted for permanence’ (T1-5) – is actually fully achieved. A further confirmation of the advantage there is for a Stoic of holding the world to be indestructible can be found in the following passage of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods: T4-5 Again the continuum of the world’s nature is constituted by the cyclic transmutations of the four elements. For earth turns into water, water into air, air into aether, and then the process is reversed, and aether becomes air, air water, and water earth, the lowest of the four. Thus the parts of the world are held in union by the constant passage up and down, to and fro, of these four elements of which all things are composed. And this must either be everlasting (aut sempiterna), or at any rate exceedingly long-lasting (aut certe perdiuturna), enduring for a lengthy, almost immeasurable period of time (permanens ad longinquum

108  Chapter 4 et inmensum paene tempus). Whichever of the two is the case, it follows that nature orders the world (natura mundum administrari). (Cic. ND 2.84–85, trans. Rackham, with Walsh) Balbus, the spokesperson of the Stoa, is arguing for the view that the structured cyclical change between the four elements is the work of a divine cosmic administrator (nature). For that, he needs to emphasize the permanence of the process. Even if he clearly tries to minimize the difference between an eternal world and one that will eventually be reduced to fire, we can see that the bringing together of these two apparently opposite ideas only succeeds at the expense of the conflagration theory. Indeed, Balbus’ favourite model is that of an indestructible world, and that is why he has to present conflagration as a destruction that takes place at the end of an ‘almost immeasurable period of time’. That attitude shows that even if the Stoics seem to have been able to accommodate both doctrines, the indestructibility of the world was nevertheless an easier choice when it came to defend providence. This is therefore a confirmation that Panaetius’ denial of conflagration, probably implicitly alluded to here,29 was a way for him to strengthen the Stoic doctrine of providence.

3 Doubts about divination A similar conclusion seems, however, to be more difficult to reach with regard to Panaetius’ second well-known stance, this time regarding divination, namely, that he had doubts about its reality: T4-6a Seeing that Panaetius, who in my judgment at all events is almost the chief of the Stoics, says that he is in doubt as to the matter which all the Stoics beside him think most certain (ea de re dubitare se dicat quam omnes praeter eum Stoici certissimam putant), the truth of the pronouncements of diviners, of auspices and oracles, of dreams and soothsaying, and that he restrains himself from assent (seque ab adsensu sustineat), which he can do even about things that his own teachers held to be certain, why should not the wise man be able to do so about everything else? (Cic. Luc. 107 = Panaetius fr. 136 Alesse, trans. Rackham) T4-6b (includes T1-9) They say that the whole divination shall subsist, if providence exists too (καὶ μὴν καὶ μαντικὴν ὑφεστάναι πᾶσάν φασιν, εἰ καὶ πρόνοιαν εἶναι). And they prove it to be actually a science on the evidence of certain results: so Zeno, Chrysippus in the second book of his On Divination, Athenodorus, and Posidonius in the second book of his Physical Discourse and the fifth book of his On Divination. But Panaetius says that divination is non-subsistent (ὁ μὲν γὰρ Παναίτιος ἀνυπόστατον αὐτήν φησιν). (D.L. 7.149 = Panaetius fr. 139 Alesse and SVF 1.174)

Panaetius on providence  109 The two passages have sometimes been interpreted as conflicting with each other, the first reporting doubts of a sceptic kind about divination, the second presenting a much clearer and definitive stance, namely, that there is no divination.30 But in other passages, from Cicero’s On Divination in particular, Panaetius appears to have made some Carneadean arguments against divination.31 Besides, Francesca Alesse has pointed out that the vocabulary used by Panaetius in the second passage – that divination is ἀνυπόστατος or ‘un-subsistent’ – is often used in sceptical contexts, where it serves ‘to show that a dogmatic proposition can be opposed by another equally persuasive one’.32 In the hypothesis that Panaetius adopted a sceptical approach with regard to divination, we must assume that – without rejecting the traditional Stoic argument that ‘if there is providence’, then ‘divination subsists’ – he found other equally persuasive arguments that make divination ‘unsubsistent’, that is, unfounded.33 His final conclusion, therefore, must have been not that divination is ‘un-subsistent’, but rather that since one can hold arguments for and against divination, one must suspend our judgement concerning the reality of it. Although Panaetius’ stance about divination was unprecedented in the Stoa, it would be a mistake, here again, to interpret his move as un-Stoic. In fact, his choice of adopting a sceptical approach with regard to divination may be seen as a way for him to preserve the Stoic doctrine of providence, since, as that has just been explained, arguments pro and contra do not destroy each other, they only force us to withhold assent. Since Panaetius was obviously very much attached to the idea of divine providence, it is probably no surprise that he looked for a way to voice his concerns about the reality of divination without, however, questioning the soundness of the cardinal Stoic argument connecting providence and divination (see T1-11).

4 Rejection of astrology Although related to the topic of divination, astrology appears to have received a separate treatment by Panaetius. At any rate, his conclusion about it was different and much more categorical than in the case of divination. Indeed, according to Cicero, ‘Panaetius was the only one of the Stoics to reject (reiecit) the predictions of astrologers’.34 This separate treatment is probably linked to the fact that Chaldean astrology, at least according to Cicero’s account in his On Divination, regarded the signs of the zodiac not simply as signs of future events, but as their causes.35 Chaldean astrology presented itself as a science capable of providing the reason why so-and-so sign is connected to so-and-so future events, whereas divination’s particular domain, according to the Stoics, was that of ‘chance events’, where causes remain obscure and unknown to human beings (see supra T1-12 and T1-13, with commentary). Astrology’s claims to scientific knowledge made it a target for other scientific disciplines, especially astronomy, which Panaetius appears to have pitted against it. Before looking at Panaetius’ arguments, it

110  Chapter 4 is therefore important to have a better understanding of his own interest in and knowledge of astronomy and, more generally, cosmology. 4.1 Panaetius’ expertise and Pythagorean approach to cosmology In Cicero’s Republic, Panaetius is presented as a philosopher renowned for his expertise in cosmology. The point comes up in a discussion between the Roman statesman Scipio Aemilianus Africanus and his nephew Quintus Aelius Tubero, a Stoic36 and disciple37 of Panaetius, about the recent meteorological observation of a second sun (παρήλιος) or ‘sun dog’: T4-7 Scipio: ‘How I wish our friend Panaetius were with us! For it is his habit to make careful study (studiosissime solet quaerere) of such celestial phenomena (haec caelestia), as well as of other matters.’ (Cic. De re pub. 1.15 = Panaetius fr. 22 Alesse, trans. Keyes) Although Panaetius was not a fully fledged professional astronomer, he was clearly knowledgeable about cosmology and astronomy, with another evidence even attributing to him a study of comets.38 But what Scipio immediately adds and the discussion that he provokes with Tubero give us a deeper understanding of the way Panaetius approached cosmology: T4-8 [a] But Tubero, to give you my frank opinion, I do not entirely approve of our friend’s [sc. Panaetius’] habit in all matters of this kind: in dealing with things of whose nature we can hardly get an inkling by conjecture, he speaks with such assurance that one would think that he could see them with his own eyes or actually grasp them with his hands (tractare plane manu). [b] I always consider Socrates to have shown greater wisdom in refusing to take any interest in such matters and maintaining that the problems of natural phenomena (de natura) were either too difficult for the human understanding to fathom (aut maiora quam hominum ratio consequi possit) or else were of no importance whatever to human life (aut nihil omnino ad uitam hominum adtinere dixerit). (Cic. De re pub. 1.10.15 = Panaetius fr. 22 Alesse, trans. Keyes) Scipio’s criticism of Panaetius is one of an Academic sceptic (hence that of Cicero) who thinks that the Stoics are overconfident in their claim for certainty and knowledge. What he says about Panaetius’ assurance to ‘grasp with his hands’ the truth about celestial phenomena [a] and, more generally, nature, is a clear reference to the Stoic doctrine of κατάληψις (cognition, perception or comprehension), the criterion for knowledge which Zeno used to compare with a clenched fist.39 The Stoics claimed that we can properly and accurately perceive the reality, either through sense-perception, or reason (see infra T5-2). We will soon see that Panaetius had a clear preference

Panaetius on providence  111 for the latter. The second part of the passage [b] suggests that, during the Hellenistic period, there was an important debate between Academic sceptics and Stoics about the legacy of Socrates. Although the Stoics never knew Socrates, from the outset they saw themselves as Socratics and used Plato as well as other sources (in particular Xenophon) for retrieving some knowledge about Socrates.40 Cicero’s own take is that Socrates was historically the first ‘to call philosophy down from the heavens and set her in the cities of men and bring her also into their homes and compel her to ask questions about life and morality and things good and evil’.41 As a sceptic, he naturally emphasized aspects of Socrates’ thought such as his profession of ignorance (in particular in the domain of the study of nature) and his sharp distinction between human and divine knowledge.42 As for the Stoics, who treat physics (including theology) as an integral part of philosophy, they have a very different view of Socrates’ range of interests, and, from Tubero’s reply to Scipio, it seems that this eventually led them to a particular way of reading Plato’s work: T4-9 I cannot understand, Africanus, why a tradition has been handed down that Socrates refused to indulge in any discussions of that character (sc. about nature), and confined himself to the study of human life and human morals (de uita et de moribus). For what more trustworthy authority on Socrates can we cite than Plato (quem enim auctorem de illo locupletiorem Platone laudare possumus)? And in many passages of Plato’s works Socrates, in the midst of his discussions of morals, of the virtues, and even of the State, makes it clear by what he says that he desires to combine with these subjects the consideration of arithmetic, geometry, and harmony, following the methods of Pythagoras (Pythagorae more). (Cic. De re pub. 1.16, trans. Keyes) Although Tubero is made to reply in his own name, the context of the dialogue with Scipio suggests that he is in fact defending the views of the absent Panaetius, of whom he was, as was already said, a disciple and a friend. The way he advocates the study of nature chimes particularly well with other things we know about Panaetius, in particular that, contrary to all his predecessors, he put the study of physics (one of the three parts of philosophy) in first position,43 which, given everything else we know about him, indicates that he wanted to give it a leading role. Besides, as we know, Panaetius was an admirer of Plato (T4-1), who is precisely named by Tubero as an authority on Socratism. Indeed, in a move that would have been probably much more difficult for earlier Stoics, Tubero explains that our best authority to prove that Socrates did not disregard the study of nature is Plato and his dialogues. What is particularly striking here is the way Tubero embraces the mathematical and geometrical approach that we find in Plato, in particular in the Republic and the Timaeus. As that has been

112  Chapter 4 briefly alluded to in Chapters 1 and 2, the early Stoics do not appear to have adopted the geometrical considerations of Plato in the Timaeus. In place of the craftsman’s model used there, where god is depicted as a craftsman that geometrizes matter in order to make it receptive to reason, they used the biological model of the σπερματικὸς λόγος and looked at god and the world as rational living beings. From what we read in Tubero’s reply, that seems to change with Panaetius. Although we know close to nothing of his physics, it is significant to note that his pupil Posidonius was very much engaged in mathematics,44 an interest he may well have inherited from his master. Based on Tubero’s reply, it appears that Panaetius looked at Plato as the ‘most trustworthy authority on Socrates’ and, because of that, did not hesitate not only to defend the idea that physics is an acceptable form of study for a Socratic (a claim already made by the early Stoics), but also to defend a very theoretical and even ‘Pythagorean’ approach to physics.45 If that is the case, then this sheds an interesting light on testimonies about Panaetius’ great admiration for Plato. We have already seen that when Panaetius borrows non-Stoic arguments, his main aim is to use them in a way that would either strengthen some crucial Stoic doctrines (such as providence) or preserve them. The way he used Plato and treated him as an authority follows a similar pattern: against Academic sceptics who wanted to somehow dissociate Socrates from Plato, he insisted that Plato was a trustworthy authority for reconstructing Socrates’ thought, range of interests and knowledge. This way, he was able to strengthen the relevance of physics within Stoicism. 4.2 Arguments against astrology Panaetius was not the first Stoic to challenge the claims of the astrologers, since Chrysippus himself proposed a way to reformulate their predictions so as to remove their necessity, and Diogenes of Babylon denied the possibility to make science-based predictions about the particular fate of individuals.46 Still, Panaetius was the only Stoic to completely reject astrology. Some of his arguments appear to have been preserved by Cicero in his On Divination.47 Here, we shall focus on two of them, in which Panaetius’ particular competence in cosmology stand out. Both of them challenge the claims of the scientificity of astrology: T4-10 Panaetius, too, who was the only one of the Stoics to reject the prophecies of astrologers, mentions Anchialus and Cassander as the greatest astronomers of his day and states that they did not employ their art as a means of divining, though they were eminent in all other branches of astronomy. Scylax of Halicarnassus, an intimate friend of Panaetius, and an eminent astronomer, besides being the head of the government in his own city, utterly repudiated the Chaldean method of foretelling the future. (Cic. Div. 2.88 = Panaetius fr. 140 Alesse, trans. Falconer, adapted)

Panaetius on providence  113 Panaetius calls upon the authority of professional astronomers, one of whom was a friend of his, to challenge the claims of the astrologers. We have seen that he probably conceived of cosmology as a mathematical science, and this has important epistemological implications that transpire in the following argument against astrology: T4-11 The Chaldeans, according to their own statements, believe that a person’s destiny is affected by the condition of the moon at the time of his birth, and hence they make and record their observations of the stars which appear to be in conjunction with the moon on his birthday. As a result, in forming their judgments, they depend on the sense of sight, which is the least trustworthy of the senses, whereas they should employ reason and intelligence. For the science of mathematics, which the Chaldeans ought to know, teaches us how close the moon comes to the earth, which indeed it almost touches; how far it is from Mercury, the nearest star; how much further yet it is from Venus; and what a great interval separates it from the sun, which is supposed to give it light. The three remaining distances are infinite and immeasurable (infinita et inmensa): from the sun to Mars, from Mars to Jupiter, from Jupiter to Saturn. Then there is the distance from Saturn to the limits of heaven—the ultimate bounds of space. In view, therefore, of these almost limitless distances (ex infinito paene interuallo), what influence (contagio) can the planets exercise upon the moon, or rather, upon the earth? (Cic. Div. 2.91 = Panaetius fr. 140 Alesse, trans. Falconer, adapted) We recognize here the Pythagorean and Platonic approach advocated by Tubero in T4-9, a confirmation that the views he defends there probably reflect Panaetius’.48 A mathematical approach to the cosmos, it appears, implies the recognition that we should use right reason or intelligence instead of sense-perception as a criterion of truth. For sense-perception is deceiving and untrustworthy. In what sense exactly? Although it is not explicitly stated, it seems that the problem with sense-perception is the relativism and perspectivism it brings with it: it makes perception wholly dependent on the position of the observer, which entails an inability to properly measure the distances of the objects seen (see T4-13b with commentary). More specifically, in the case of astronomical objects, sense-perception tends to present the distances between planets and stars as much smaller than they really are. It is this mistake that leads astrologers to attribute some sort of influence or sympathy (contagio) between faraway planets49 and the particular lives of human beings on earth. What conclusions can we draw from Panaetius’ attacks against astrology with regard to his conception of providence? As often with Panaetius, the critical stance he took on what appears to be accepted Stoic doctrines should not be interpreted as a way for him to move away from Stoicism, and even less so in the case of the Stoic doctrine of providence. We have

114  Chapter 4 seen (in T4-9) that his adoption of a Pythagorean approach to the study of nature, although clearly borrowed from Plato, was in fact a way for him to strengthen the core Stoic idea that physics is a fundamental part of philosophy and that the promotion of physics makes the Stoics legitimate heirs of Socrates. Therefore, by opposing a mathematical, reason-based approach to the sense-based approach of the astrologers, what Panaetius was really doing was returning to what he thinks is at the core of Stoicism, by which I mean not simply the importance of physics, but also the primacy of reason over everything else. And, as we will shortly see, it is indisputable that Panaetius looked at the possession of reason in human beings as an expression of divine providence.

5 The human telos and the power of reason To understand the connection between Panaetius’ accounts of reason and providence, we must first have a closer look at the way he defined the human telos: T4-12 Panaetius said that the end is ‘living in accordance with the starting points bestowed upon us by nature’ (τὸ ζῆν κατὰ τὰς δεδομένας ἡμῖν ἐκ φύσεως ἀφορμάς). (Clem. Strom. 2.21.129.4 = Panaetius fr. 53 Alesse and 63J1 L.-S.) The way Panaetius phrases his definition reflects the importance he gives to divine providence: nature, that is, god, has provided human beings with the ‘starting points’ and ‘resources’ (ἀφορμαί) of a happy life. The endowment of those resources is, in itself, a testimony to god’s care for human beings. We have seen (in Chapter 2, section 5.2) that ἀφορμαί are like seeds containing the logoi according to which a being of some sort develops itself and reaches its telos. In order to reach the telos, one should, therefore, live in accordance with those innate starting points. Although starting points are not impulses themselves but what those impulses ‘spring from’, there is a close link between the two. It is not surprising, therefore, given his definition of the telos, to see that Panaetius, in his treatise On Appropriate Actions (Περὶ καθηκόντων),50 paid particular attention to two primary types of impulses and what they lead to51: T4-13a [a] From the beginning (Principio) nature has apportioned (tributum) to every type of creature the tendency to preserve (tueatur) itself, its life and body, and to reject anything that seems likely to harm them, seeking and procuring everything necessary for life, such as nourishment, shelter and so on. [b] Common also to all animals is the desire (appetitus) to unite for the purpose of procreation, and a certain care for those that are born (cura quaedam eorum, quae procreata sint). (Cic. Off. 1.11, trans. Atkins, adapted)

Panaetius on providence  115 The passage introduces Cicero’s rendering of Panaetius’ doctrine of οἰκείωσις or familiarization (notion discussed in detail in Chapter 9). Cicero starts here by describing the impulses that have been apportioned (tributum) by nature to all animals, which reminds us of Panaetius’ definition of the human telos in T4-12 (δεδομένας), although, at this stage, human beings have not yet been singled out. There are two generic impulses. The first impulse52 [a], immediately active at birth, aims at self-preservation: rather than being indifferent or even alien to itself, an animal is in a state of familiarity with regard to itself, in the sense that it sees itself in a favourable and lovable way and is therefore naturally driven to care for itself. The second impulse [b], which becomes active at the beginning of adulthood (presumably because, before that time, sexual organs have not yet been fully developed), aims at procreating and is accompanied with a sense of care and love for the offspring. These two impulses bestowed upon all animals by nature illustrate god’s providence.53 Cicero then proceeds with Panaetius’ account of the difference between human beings and the rest of the animals: T4-13b The great difference between man and beast, however, is this: the latter adapts itself only in responding to the senses, and only to something that is present and at hand, scarcely aware of the past or future (paulum admodum sentiens praeteritum aut futurum). Man, however, is a sharer in reason; this enables him to perceive consequences (per quam consequentia cernit), to see the causes of things (causas rerum uidet), and to not be ignorant of their precursors and, so to speak, their antecedents; to compare similarities and to link and combine future with present events; and, by seeing with ease the whole course of life, to prepare whatever is necessary for living it ( facile totius uitae cursum uidet ad eamque degendam praeparat res necessarias). (Cic. Off. 1.11, trans. Atkins, adapted) According to Panaetius, the superiority of human beings over other animals is first of all epistemological: while animals, relying on sense-perception, can only perceive what is present, the possession of reason by human beings enables them to grasp the past, the present and the future. Such a capacity of reason is related to the consequential form it possesses according to the Stoics (see T3-27): reason enables us to identify the causes of events and therefore also their antecedents, and, from the knowledge of the causes, to perceive their consequences. The strong opposition between sense-perception and reason and the depreciation of the former in favour of the latter bring to mind T4-11, where Panaetius explains that the use of sense-perception for the measurement of astronomical distances is wrong and necessarily leads to false results, and that we should only use reason. I would like to suggest here that both these accounts were probably influenced by one all-important Platonic

116  Chapter 4 argument found in Plato’s Protagoras. There, Socrates is challenging Protagoras’ Man-measure theory and argues that our criterion of truth, in all matters but especially in ethics, should be the ‘art of measurement’, and not [Protagoras’]54 ‘power of appearance’,55 the latter being essentially linked to sense-perception. Socrates makes the case that sense-perception and the appearances it creates ‘confuse us and make us often change our minds’.56 That is true in case of distances – ‘the same magnitudes appear bigger when you see them from near at hand, and smaller at a distance’57 – and also in matters where time is at work. In the latter case, when we use senseperception, we fail to correctly infer the future effect (e.g. hangover) of our present action (one drink too much) because we think that ‘there is a great difference’58 between pleasure and pain on the basis of them occurring now or in the future: if we judge their importance by our senses, these pleasures or pains that are occurring now will necessarily ‘appear’ stronger or harsher than those that are not yet there and that our senses cannot yet grasp, since sense-perception is limited to what is present. In the Protagoras, the opposition between sense-perception and science or knowledge (ἐπιστήμη, φρόνησις, σοφία)59 is presented in the background of reflections on divine providence. Indeed, it mirrors the opposition between the figures of Epimetheus and Prometheus in Protagoras’ famous myth, where Epimetheus (‘Afterthought’) represents the failure to correctly foresee and prepare for future events (he fails to provide the human nature with the faculties necessary for its survival), and Prometheus (‘Forethought’) who instantiates the providential nature of gods and tries to make up for his brother’s lack of wisdom by granting humans fire and arts stolen from the gods. At the end of the dialogue, Socrates recalls one last time the opposition between the two gods and makes it clear where his preference goes: I shouldn’t like that Epimetheus of yours to fool us with his tricks in our discussion, the way he neglected us in distributing his gifts (ὥσπερ καὶ ἐν τῇ διανομῇ ἠμέλησεν ἡμῶν), as you said. I preferred Prometheus to Epimetheus in the story: I consult him (ᾧ χρώμενος ἐγώ) and take forethought (προμηθούμενος) over my life as a whole (ὑπὲρ τοῦ βίου τοῦ ἐμαυτοῦ παντός).60 Both Plato and Panaetius have the discussion of god’s providence in the background of their account of sense-perception and reason, explaining that god (Prometheus or nature) has wisely distributed (διανομῇ, tributum) among human beings the most important gift of all, the gift of reason, by which one can measure the exact consequences of one’s actions and therefore ‘take forethought over [one’s] life as a whole’, or, to put it like Panaetius, ‘see with ease the whole course of life (totius uitae cursum) to prepare whatever is necessary for living it’. Both insist on the deceiving nature of sense-perception, which is essentially due to the fact that senses need their object to be present in order to perceive them, whereas reason makes human

Panaetius on providence  117 beings independent of the relativity of time and space and capable of having a global view of their life. Still, there is one interesting difference between the two accounts: while Plato’s Socrates is presented (probably metaphorically at least) as ‘consulting’ Prometheus’ oracles, Panaetius, as we know, had doubts about divination. From the reading of T4-13b, one gets the impression that his particular stances about divination are related to the power he sees in reason, which enables us to perceive and know virtually everything, including future events. It is therefore possible that Panaetius did not see any real advantage in the art of divination and thought that reason alone is sufficient to lead a safe and good life. In the last part of his account, Panaetius shows the true purpose of the gift of reason to human beings: T4-13c The same nature, by means of the power of reason (ui rationis), recommends (conciliat) one human to another for the constitution of a community of speech and of life (ad orationis et ad uitae societatem), implanting above all a particular love for his offspring (praecipuum quendam amorem in eos qui procreati sunt). It drives him to desire that human beings should meet together and congregate, and that he should join them himself; and for the same reason to devote himself to providing whatever may contribute to the comfort and sustenance not only of himself, but also of his wife, his children, and others whom he holds dear and ought to protect (caros habeat tuerique debeat). Furthermore, such concern (cura) also arouses the spirits of human beings, rendering them greater for achieving whatever they attempt. (Cic. Off. 1.12, trans. Atkins, adapted) Although the advantage of reason has been initially presented as epistemological in nature, it now becomes clear that the decision made by nature (god) to bestow reason to humans has a far wider and greater purpose: the creation of human societies. The possession of reason creates a special bond between human beings who see each other as mutually akin (see infra T8-25a-b). Cicero uses a particular term for expressing this bond, the verb conciliare, which he uses elsewhere to render the Stoic idea of οἰκείωσις or familiarization. In his dialogue On Ends, he has Cato say that ‘every animal, as soon as it is born (this is where one should start), is recommended and entrusted to itself (ipsum sibi conciliari et commendari) in view of preserving itself, his state and everything that preserves this state’.61 Here, we see that conciliare is coupled with commendare (on which see also infra T7-29): both may be translated in similar fashion, and it is possible that commendare is introduced in order to make explicit the meaning of conciliare. According to the OLD, commendare means ‘to entrust or commit (a person, state, etc., to a person, a god, or his care) for protection’. In Stoicism, we find many passages (see Chapter 9, section 4.2) expressing the idea that god has committed human beings to their own care, that is, to the care of reason, which

118  Chapter 4 is the ‘governing part’ of the human soul. Reason is like a guardian whose role is to raise and look after the human being it has been imparted to. As to conciliare, although its initial sense is rather general (‘to bring or collect together, unite, join’), it can also be used with a meaning that is close to commendare, and thus signify ‘to render a person or thing acceptable, to commend, endear’. If we keep in mind the connection between the two verbs and the role the Stoics give to reason as a ‘guardian’ whose function is to govern and lead, it becomes clearer why Cicero is speaking of nature ‘recommending one man to another’ by means of the power of reason. It is not simply that the possession of reason makes humans naturally akin to one another. Reason, in itself, has a political function that makes the community of human beings a truly political one. So, by imparting reason to human beings, what nature does is not just to entrust each individual human to its own care, but does so at the scale of a political community, where reason is in command. Political communities are the only places where the two primeval impulses, found already in every animal, can be completely fulfilled62: they allow each man to provide ‘whatever may contribute to the comfort and sustenance not only of himself’, says Cicero, ‘but also of his wife, his children, and others whom he holds dear and ought to protect’.

6 Reason, wisdom and politics After having provided a first general survey of reason and its importance with regard to politics, Panaetius launches into a more detailed account, starting, this time, from the level of the rational impulses. In Stoicism, once reason is developed in a human being, it effects a rationalization of all the faculties of its soul, including its impulses. Panaetius distinguishes between four rational impulses,63 which are at the origin of the four cardinal virtues. First, there is the eager pursuit of truth (basis of wisdom and prudence); second, the tendency of human beings to gather together, form public assemblies and take part in political life (basis of justice); third, an impulse towards pre-eminence (basis of greatness of spirit or courage),64 which must be kept in check by learning what is just and lawful; and fourth, a special regard and concern for beauty, consistency and order, especially in the domains of thought and deed (basis of moderation). What is particularly striking, in Cicero’s text, is that the rational impulse that is recognized as the most peculiar or proper (propria) to humans is the one aiming at truth and knowledge, and not, as one might have expected from T4-13c, the one aimed at public gatherings and justice: T4-14 The search for truth and its investigation are, above all, peculiar to man (In primisque hominis est propria ueri inquisitio atque inuestigatio). Therefore, whenever we are free from necessary business and

Panaetius on providence  119 other concerns, we are eager to see or to hear or to learn things that are obscure or causing wonder (rerum aut occultarum aut admirabilium), considering their discovery necessary for a blessed life. From this, we come to understand that what is true, simple and pure is most fitted to the nature of man (Ex quo intellegitur, quod uerum, simplex sincerumque sit, id esse naturae hominis aptissimum). (Cic. Off. 1.13, trans. Atkins, adapted) Not only is the impulse towards the knowledge of truth said to be most peculiar to humans, but the way it is described here makes it out to be very far away from any political concern. Indeed, it is presented as a strictly intellectual and theoretical endeavour, only possible when leisure (freedom from practical activities) permits it. Furthermore, its objects – things that are ‘obscure or causing wonder’ – are also, apparently, completely alien to those that are of importance in political or ethical matters. Nevertheless, the text insists, it is the knowledge of these objects that is considered necessary for a happy life, and that is why the pursuit of truth is so fundamental to human beings. Things seem to become even more obscure later in the text when Cicero, discussing the importance of appropriate actions (officia), seems to reverse to a position where impulse towards community and justice is considered superior to impulse towards knowledge and truth: T4-15 [a] In my view those appropriate actions (ea officia) that have their roots in sociability (quae ex communitate) conform more to nature (aptiora… naturae) than those drawn from knowledge (quae ex cognitione). This can be confirmed by the following argument: suppose that a wise man were granted a life plentifully supplied with everything he needed so that he could, by himself and completely at leisure, reflect and meditate upon everything worth learning. But suppose also that he were so alone that he never saw another person: would he not then depart from life? [b] The foremost of all virtues is the wisdom (sapientia) that the Greeks call σοφία. (Prudence (prudentiam), which they call φρόνησις, we realize is something distinct, that is the knowledge of things that one should pursue and avoid.) But the wisdom that I declared to be the foremost is the knowledge of human and divine matters (rerum est diuinarum et humanarum scientia), in which is included [the knowledge of] the community between gods and humans and the society of human beings. [c] If wisdom is the most important of the virtues, which it certainly is, it necessarily follows (certe necesse est) that the appropriate action that is based upon sociability is also of the greatest importance. [d] And the knowledge and contemplation [of nature] would be somewhat truncated and incomplete if it were to result in no action. Such action is most clearly seen in the protection of human interests and therefore

120  Chapter 4 is concerned with the society of the human race (pertinet igitur ad societatem generis humani). For that reason, this should be ranked above speculative knowledge (ergo haec cognitioni anteponenda est). (Cic. Off. 1.153, trans. Atkins, with Miller) Given the impossibility to know to what extent exactly Cicero is dependent upon Panaetius in his treatise and given also Cicero’s well-known personal conviction about the superiority of the practical and political life,65 one may be tempted to interpret this passage as reflecting Cicero’s own views, not those of Panaetius. For, one might want to ask, how could one hold (in T4-14) that the search after wisdom (sapientia) is the kind of impulse that is the most proper to human nature and at the same time, as now, hold that [a] ‘those appropriate actions that have their roots in sociability conform more to nature (aptiora… naturae) than those drawn from knowledge’. If impulse towards truth and knowledge is closer to human nature than the other three rational tendencies, how then could it follow that the most appropriate action is to engage in a practical and social life? If we look more carefully at our text, however, we see that it is not actually contradicting T4-14. In fact, Cicero is happy to recall that ‘he’ himself has given the desire for wisdom the foremost place,66 and he insists that he was right to do so. Besides, the superiority of the practical life over the contemplative or theoretical life is demonstrated from the very definition of wisdom [b], which states that sapientia or σοφία is ‘the knowledge of human and divine matters (rerum est diuinarum et humanarum scientia)’. Now, this is a very distinctive definition, one that is presented elsewhere as Stoic (see infra T4-16). From the other sources we have, it appears that the Stoics themselves conceived of σοφία as a purely theoretical study, which agrees with Cicero’s statements in both T4-14 and T4-15. But, and that is also very important, they explicitly looked at σοφία as insufficient, in itself, for a happy life, and that is why they coupled it with φιλοσοφία, which consists in the actual practical exercise (ἄσκησις) of wisdom (see infra T4-17). This, again, agrees very well with Cicero’s presentation, in which it is said [d] that ‘the knowledge and contemplation [of nature] would be somewhat truncated and incomplete if it were to result in no action’. We thus have solid ground for thinking that Cicero, in T4-15, is reporting a Stoic view, most probably Panaetius’ views. Let us now examine the demonstration according to which the kind of appropriate action that ‘conforms most to human nature’ can be determined from the consideration of what the most important virtue is, namely, wisdom (sapientia). Cicero is not content to recall the Stoic definition of wisdom (the knowledge of human and divine matters), but adds that in wisdom is included the knowledge of ‘the community between gods and humans and the society of human beings’. And it is on the basis of this that he can conclude that, among the four kinds of appropriate actions, it is the social one that is the most important. So, to understand his demonstration, we must make sense67 of the connection he claims there is between wisdom and the knowledge of ‘the community between gods and humans and the society of human

Panaetius on providence  121 beings’. For that, we should have a closer look at the Stoic definition of wisdom. What exactly did the Stoics include in it? To answer that question, we must examine two important testimonies about wisdom and philosophy: T4-16 The Stoics said that wisdom is knowledge of human and divine matters (τὴν μὲν σοφίαν εἶναι θείων τε καὶ ἀνθρωπίνων ἐπιστήμην), and philosophy exercise of fitting expertise (τὴν δὲ φιλοσοφίαν ἄσκησιν ἐπιτηδείου τέχνης); the single and supremely fitting expertise is virtues, and virtues at their most general are three (ἀρετὰς δὲ τὰς γενικωτάτας τρεῖς): in nature, in behaviour, in reasoning (φυσικὴν ἠθικὴν λογικήν). For this reason, philosophy is also divided into three parts: physical, ethical and logical. Physical is when we investigate the world and the matters in the world, ethical is that which is occupied with human life, logical is that concerned with reasoning – the last they also call dialectical. (Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 1.874E = Aëtius, Placita 1.Proœmium.2, p. 131 M.-R, SVF 2.35 and 26A L.-S., trans. Brouwer 2014, slightly adapted) T4-17 Others defined philosophy as the exercise of fitting expertise of the best life for human beings (οἱ δὲ ἄσκησιν ἀνθρώποις ἀρίστης ζωῆς ἐπιτηδείας τέχνης ὡρίσαντο), saying that philosophy is exercise (ἄσκησιν), and calling wisdom fitting expertise (ἐπιτηδείαν δὲ τέχνην), which is also a cognition of human and divine matters (ἥ τίς ἐστι κατάληψις θείων τε καὶ ἀνθρωπίνων πραγμάτων). (Ps.-Galen, Histor. philos. 5, 602.19–603.2 Diels, trans. Brouwer 2014) According to these two passages,68 wisdom (σοφία) is defined by the Stoics as the knowledge (ἐπιστήμη) or cognition (κατάληψις) of ‘human and divine matters’. Wisdom, however, is not any kind of knowledge, but an art or expertise (τέχνη) which, as such, must be exercised in order to be truly useful. From T4-17, we gather that the actual exercise (ἄσκησις) of wisdom is called ‘philosophy’ by the Stoics, by which they probably meant both the exercise through which one progressively acquires knowledge (in the case where one is not a sage but in progress towards sagehood) and the exercise of wisdom by the sage.69 The description of philosophy in T4-16 can therefore be used to reconstruct the domains of knowledge that are covered by wisdom. Since it states that philosophy is divided into three parts, it means that wisdom also covers these three parts. But this is awkward: how can these three parts (physics, ethics and logic) fit into the two domains of wisdom (human and divine matters)? It is clear that physics (which includes theology) falls into ‘divine matters’ and that ethics falls into ‘human affairs’. So the whole issue seems to boil down to the place occupied by logic. We know from other sources that the Stoics insisted that logic is not simply an ‘instrument’ of philosophy70 but a constitutive part of it. Now the importance of logic is obvious from the fact that its object is reason itself, and reason, in turn, is what is common

122 Chapter 4 to gods and humans: of all the animals, human beings are the only ones who share in the divine through the possession of reason. This means that, among the three parts of philosophy, logic is the one that guarantees the bond between the study of nature and the study of ethics. But that has also consequences with regard to the meaning of wisdom itself: the knowledge of human and divine matters necessarily entails the recognition that humans and gods all live (or ought to live, in the case of human beings) according to reason which, the Stoics say, is the law of the (cosmic) community71 they form and also of the smaller societies of humans. From this we can now see why Cicero, in T4-15, claims that the kind of officium that follows from wisdom is ‘the appropriate action that is based upon sociability’. Indeed, even if wisdom is essentially theoretical, it provides the sage with a social and political insight about the world and how human societies should be organized and governed. There are strong reasons to believe that the whole argument is from Panaetius. Not only did he hold reason as a quintessential faculty of humans (T4-13b) and insisted on the practical and political dimension of it (T4-13c), but he is also known for having been steeped in the study of nature (T4-7) and of politics.72 And the primacy he gave to the study of nature means that he was convinced that a logos-based study of the cosmos is the best way to gain a political knowledge that can be used for the benefit of the organization of human cities. As we shall see in the next chapter, it is a lesson that his disciple Posidonius fully adopted. All in all, the possession of reason appears to be, for Panaetius, a godgiven gift that allows human beings to achieve happiness through the possession and exercise of its most excellent form: wisdom.

Notes 1 Dorandi 1999: 51. 2 According to a passage in Galen, it is even plausible that Panaetius edited Plato’s dialogues: see Gourinat 2008. For the historical importance of Panaetius’ crossing of school boundaries, see Couloubaritsis 1998: 471–477 and Frede 2008: 777 ff. 3 The harsh and austere style of the Stoics, which Panaetius rejected, is regularly attacked by Cicero. On this, see in particular Aubert 2008 and Aubert-Baillot 2015b. 4 See Frede 2008: 777. 5 See S.E. PH 1.235 = 68T L.-S. 6 Panaetius is always called a Stoic in our evidences (Van Straaten 1946: 41–42). In Cic. Off. 2.51, he is presented as ‘grauissimo Stoicorum’ (strictest of Stoics). 7 According to Alesse 1997: 165, Cicero is not actually requesting Panaetius’ book but rather an epitome or paraphrase of it. She bases her interpretation on the fact that Cicero wrote Panaetius’ name (not just the title of his book) in Greek. Whether Cicero had direct or indirect access to Panaetius’ P is not important for our enquiry. 8 See Van Straaten 1946: 241, who insists that ‘possibility’ here does not amount to ‘probability’.

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9 Pease 1955–1958: 21. 10 Pease 1920–1923: 15. 11 In favour of the view that Panaetius discussed divination in his P is Wardle 2006: 115. See also Alesse 1994: 240, n. 56 for references of commentators who support the view that Panaetius’ criticism of astrology was voiced in P. 12 According to Cic. ND 2.118 = Panaetius fr. 130 Alesse, Panaetius had only doubts about the conflagration. 13 It is probable (see Sedley 2003: 23 n. 33) that the Antipater of this passage is Antipater of Tyre (not of Tarsus), a Stoic who has been named, together with the same title (On the World), a little bit earlier at 7.139, where he was presented as holding the orthodox view that the ruling part of the world soul is aether. 14 That is what some commentators have thought. See e.g. Van Straaten 1946: 67 (‘Le fait que Panétius osât toucher à ce pilier de la doctrine stoïcienne, doit avoir produit un effet très révolutionnaire’). 15 Phil. Aet. mundi 76 = Panaetius fr. 131 Alesse and 46P L.-S. 16 Phil. Aet. mundi 76 and 78–84. 17 D.L. 7.143 = SVF 2.633 (the text is quoted in T3-3). 18 D.L. 7.148 = SVF 1.163 and 2.1022. 19 See Alesse 1994: 221–222. 20 See Arius Didymus apud Eus. PE 15.18.3 = SVF 2.596. 21 See Phil. Aet. mundi 77 = 46P L.-S. 22 See Long 1990: 286–287. 23 See Plut. St. rep. 38.1051E, where Antipater, contrary to the preconception of god held by Chrysippus, includes indestructibility in the idea of god, which could be interpreted as a sign that he held the world (qua-world-order) to be indestructible too. 24 Long 1990: 287–289. 25 See Alesse 1994: 221 and 227, Alesse 1997: 266, and Vimercati 2004: 70. 26 See in particular Cic. Luc. 119. 27 Alex. Meteorol. 61.34. 28 The Modern habit of regarding Chrysippus as the father of Stoic orthodoxy has this pernicious effect that when a later Stoic happens to disagree with Chrysippus, we see that as a heterodox, almost un-Stoic, move. But the reality is that the Stoics did not all agree with Chrysippus, and the case about conflagration is blatant evidence that one of his most cherished doctrines could be dismissed by major Stoic figures during the whole century. 29 See Long 1990: 290, n. 17, who presents Balbus as ‘a post-Panaetian Stoic’. As recalled earlier, Panaetius is named in Cic. ND 2.118 = Panaetius fr. 130 Alesse, where he is the only Stoic reported as having questioned (addubitare) the doctrine of the conflagration. 30 That is the way it is understood by Van Straaten 1946: 80. 31 See Cic. Div. 1.12 = Panaetius fr. 138 Alesse, and Div. 2.97 = Panaetius fr. 140 Alesse. 32 Alesse 1997: 270 (‘Il termine serve a dimostrare che ad una proposizione dogmatica se ne può contraporre un’altra contraria ma altrettanto persuasiva’). 33 Alesse 1994: 237–239 and Alesse 1997: 270. 34 Cic. Div. 2.87. On the relationship between Stoicism and astrology, of which we know little, see Bouché-Leclercq 1899: 29–34, Long 1982, Ioppolo 1984 and, for further references, Alesse 1997: 271. 35 See Cic. Div. 2.89, where future events happening to a given individual are ultimately the result of the action of a celestial ‘force’ (uis) at work at the moment of the birth of that individual. 36 See Cic. Mur. 74, and Brut. 117. On Tubero’s Stoicism, see Berno 2014.

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37 Tubero is listed among Panaetius’ Roman disciples by Van Straaten 1946: 218. Panaetius dedicated a treatise to Tubero on the topic of endurance to pain (Cic. Fin. 4.23 = Panaetius fr. 83 Alesse; see also Cic. Luc. 135 = Panaetius fr. 89 Alesse). 38 Sen. NQ 7.30.2 = Panaetius fr. 156 Alesse. 39 Cic. Var. 41 = SVF 1.60, 62, 68–69 and 40B L.-S. and Luc. 145 = 41A4 L.-S. On Stoic κατάληψις, see Gourinat 2012d. 40 The importance of the figure of Socrates in the Stoa is well acknowledged in Stoic studies. Diogenes Laertius reports (in 7.2 = SVF 1.1) that it is upon reading Xenophon’s Memoirs of Socrates that Zeno, the founding father of the Stoa, decided to become a philosopher and sought after ‘men like Socrates’. Philodemus reports that some Stoics called themselves ‘Socratic’ (rather than simply Zenonian), showing by that a will to make the Stoa the worthy heir of Socrates, who had died one century before the establishment of the school. On this, see Dorandi 1982: 101 and Goulet-Cazé 2003: 17. 41 Cic. Tusc. 5.10–11, trans. King. 42 See Pl. Apol. 23a. 43 D.L. 7.41 = Panaetius fr. 129 Alesse and 26B4 L.-S. 44 See Chapter 5, and Posidonius F195–213 E.-K. 45 We have already noted, in Chapter 1, that Zeno wrote a treatise called Pythagorean Studies (D.L. 7.4) and that Cleanthes endorsed some form of Pythagoreanism, associating the sun with Apollo and developing the idea that the sun is responsible for harmonizing the world (T2-6 and T2-7). We do not have evidence, however, that they took seriously the idea of a rigorously mathematized world, contrary probably to Panaetius and most certainly to Posidonius (on which, see Chapter 5). 46 See Chapter 1, section 3. 47 With Alesse 1997, I take the whole section of Cic. Div. 2.87–97 as based on Panaetius, although some of the arguments stated there were probably borrowed by him from Carneades. The two arguments I am examining belong in my view directly to Panaetius. 48 The epistemology behind the choice of a mathematical approach to the study of the universe is clearly reminiscent of the one defended by Plato in the Timaeus (see especially Pl. Tim. 51d-e), where sense-perception and reason belong to opposite kinds (unchanging being versus changing becoming) and scientificity (in the sense of irrefutability) is confined to reason and intelligence. By endorsing such a highly Platonic epistemology, Panaetius seems to dispose of some of the most important contributions of the first Stoics, especially Zeno, namely, the restoring to favour of sense-perception. At the same time, it is important to emphasize here that κατάληψις (perception, cognition), Zeno’s criterion of truth, was by no means restricted to bodily senses, since it also applies to demonstrations (see infra T5-3). Also, Zeno never endorsed the Epicurean view that sense-perception is by itself reliable and irrefutable. In fact, as we will see in detail in Chapter 5, section 2 (see T5-2 with commentary), there has been a variety of views in the Stoa with regard to the nature of the criterion of truth, and Panaetius’ stance is only one of them. 49 Contrary to what the passage suggests, planets are not the primary sources of influence. In Cic. Div. 2.89, it is explained that the power (uis) that determines the life of human beings (depending on the particular time of their birth) flows from the fixed stars; but it is said to be, in turn, affected by those planets that happen to cross one particular part of the circle of the Zodiac. 50 That treatise has been used by Cicero as a basis for the writing of the two first books of his own De officiis. See Cic. Ad Att. 16.11.4.

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51 I have divided the following text into three parts, but we must keep in mind that it is one continuous argument. For a detailed commentary of the whole passage, see Alesse 1994: 129–137. 52 See D.L. 7.85 = SVF 3.178 and 57A1 L.-S.: πρώτη ὁρμή. I discuss the passage in Chapter 9 (T9-1). 53 This has been correctly noticed by Alesse 1994: 132. 54 I use brackets here because, in the Protagoras, Plato presents Socrates’ criticism as aimed at what the general population think (that knowledge is weak) and, ironically enough, makes Protagoras a supporter of Socrates’ defence of knowledge as ‘the art of measure’. It is of course in the Theaetetus, where the argument surfaces again (177c-179b), that Socrates is explicitly challenging Protagoras. 55 Pl. Prot. 356d: ἡ μετρητικὴ τέχνη, and ἡ τοῦ φαινομένου δύναμις. 56 Pl. Prot. 356d. 57 Pl. Prot. 356a. 58 Pl. Prot. 356a: πολὺ διαφέρει. 59 Plato uses these terms rather interchangeably: σοφία (330a, 349b and 352d where it is coupled with ἐπιστήμη); ἐπιστήμη (330b, and 352c where it is coupled with φρόνησις). 60 Pl. Prot. 361c-d. 61 Cic. Fin. 3.16 = SVF 3.182. 62 The detailed discussion of justice and politics in Cic. Off. 1.50–57 suggests that the two impulses (towards oneself and towards others) are responsible for the distinction between private and common property (see in particular Off. 1.51). It also shows that, among human societies, the most perfect one is where citizens are virtuous (just and generous): Off. 1.55–56. In that case, the bond between human beings is the strongest possible. 63 Cic. Off. 1.12–15. 64 The rationality of this impulse towards pre-eminence (appetitio principatus) may not seem immediately obvious, but one should note that Cicero already alludes to it at the end of Off. 1.12: ‘such concern [for others] also arouses men’s spirits, rendering them greater for achieving whatever they attempt’. In fact, from the rest of Cicero’s treatise, we understand that the desire for greatness is at the origin of the quest for political power. 65 See Cicero, Republic, preface to the first book. 66 He reiterates that claim in Off. 2.5. 67 The argument has been attacked by Andrew R. Dyck (1996: 342), who thinks that the connection between wisdom and the idea of a community of gods and humans has been clumsily added by Cicero: ‘Evidently, Cicero is adapting – albeit not very subtly or cogently – an argument which originally served rather different ends’. However, Dyck provides no evidence for his claim. 68 For a meticulous and enlightening study of these two passages, see Brouwer 2014: 7–50. See also Hadot 1991: 208. 69 For these two possible meanings of ἄσκησις in relation to knowledge in Stoicism, see Brouwer 2014: 45. 70 Am. In Ar. An. pr. 8.20–22 = SVF 2.49 and 26E L.-S. 71 Eus. PE 15.15.4–5 = SVF 2.528 and 67L L.-S. The full passage is quoted in Chapter 6 (T6-22). 72 Cic. De re pub. 1.34 Panaetius fr. 23 Alesse, trans. Keyes: (Laelius is speaking): I recollected that you (sc. Scipio) used to converse very frequently with Panaetius on this (sc. public affairs) in company with Polybius – two Greeks who were perhaps the best versed of them all in politics (duobus Graecis uel peritissimis rerum ciuilium).

5

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence

Although Panaetius was not the first Stoic to promote the study of nature, he appears to have given fresh reasons to engage in physics by promoting a decisively scientific (or Pythagorean) approach to nature (see supra T4-9). It is not surprising, therefore, that the next generations of Stoics will indeed eagerly embrace once again the study of the cosmos. That is the case of Posidonius of Apamea (135–51 B.C.),1 as we are going to see, but also of Cleomedes, a Stoic of unknown date2 but whose work On the Heavens is explicitly presented as influenced by Posidonius (see infra T5-6). Given the paucity of fragments of Posidonius on providence, especially in physics, we will have to rely on Cleomedes to complete Posidonius’ account.

1 Posidonius on the human telos The influence Panaetius had on Posidonius can immediately be felt in the way Posidonius described the human telos: T5-1a He says that [the telos] is ‘to live [a] contemplating the truth and order of the universe (τὸ ζῆν θεωροῦντα τὴν τῶν ὅλων ἀλήθειαν καὶ τάξιν) and [b] helping in promoting it as far as possible (συγκατασκευάζοντα αὐτὴν κατὰ τὸ δυνατόν), in no way being led by the irrational part of the soul (κατὰ μηδὲν ἀγόμενον ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀλόγου μέρους τῆς ψυχῆς)’. (Clem. Strom. 2.21.129.4 = Posidonius F186 E.-K. and 63J2 L.-S., trans. Kidd, adapted) T5-1b [c] The cause of passions (τὸ δὴ τῶν παθῶν αἴτιον), that is, of disagreement and the unhappy life (τῆς τε ἀνομολογίας καὶ τοῦ κακοδαίμονος βίου), is not to follow in everything the god in ourselves (τὸ μὴ κατὰ πᾶν ἕπεσθαι τῷ ἐν αὑτῷ δαίμονι), which is akin and has a similar nature to the one which administers the whole world (συγγενεῖ τε ὄντι καὶ τὴν ὁμοίαν φύσιν ἔχοντι τῷ τὸν ὅλον κόσμον διοικοῦντι), but at times to deviate and be swept along with what is worse and beast-like. [d] Those3 who failed to observe this neither give the better explanation for the passions in these things, nor do they hold correct opinions about happiness and DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-5

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  127 agreement (περὶ τῆς εὐδαιμονίας καὶ ὁμολογίας). [e] For they do not see that the foremost thing (πρῶτόν) in happiness is to be led in no way by the irrational and unhappy (ἄγεσθαι ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀλόγου τε καὶ κακοδαίμονος), that is, what is godless in the soul (καὶ ἀθέου τῆς ψυχῆς). (Gal. PHP 5.5.4–5 = Posidonius F187 E.-K., trans. Kidd, adapted) The first text is a definition of the human telos by Posidonius, which is composed of two parts, while the second is a detailed explanation of the second part of the definition.4 Let us start with the first passage: Posidonius’ definition of the human telos (or how to reach happiness). It clearly has two parts: it starts [a] with a defence of contemplation, in particular of the study of the cosmos and its order, and then [b] moves towards the need to promote what is gained through that study, by leading an ordered (virtuous) and happy life. Although the Stoics give various definitions of the telos, they usually emphasize its practical aspect and do not put contemplation (θεωρία) at the forefront. In that respect, Posidonius’ approach is rather original. At the same time, it is difficult not to see the influence of his master Panaetius. Panaetius was an expert in the study of celestial beings (T4-7), and his conception of wisdom (T4-15), namely as a political form of knowledge, shows that he viewed the study of the cosmos as means of gaining the ethical and political knowledge without which one cannot be happy. This is Posidonius’ position as well. Promoting the knowledge of the world and its order is described, in the second text, as [c] following (or obeying) one’s own daimôn – which has a similar nature to the one who governs the cosmos (i.e. god) – which, in turns, leads to a happy life, that is [d], a life of agreement (ὁμολογία). ‘Living in agreement’ (ὁμολογουμένως ζῆν) was Zeno’s definition of the telos, and it is clear that Posidonius has that definition in mind here. At the same time, ‘agreement’, for Zeno, meant ‘living in accordance with a reason that is one and concordant (καθ’ ἕνα λόγον καὶ σύμφωνον)’,5 a definition Posidonius must have found difficult to accept. For, as we see in T5-1a [b], Posidonius seems to have rejected the idea that the soul is thoroughly rational, and rather defended the view that it is divided into two parts,6 one that is rational and godlike, and another that is irrational and godless.7 That is why he gave a new interpretation of Zeno’s definition of the telos as living in agreement with the divine part of the soul, a part that is ‘akin and has a similar nature to the one which governs the whole universe’. It is also apparent that Posidonius relies on the etymology of the word εὐδαιμονία (happiness) – which he takes to mean ‘being led by a good or provident δαίμων or god’ – to make his point that happiness is attainable only if we obey the god within us (see infra T9-30 to 32). Since our inner god is akin to the god that is governing the whole world, then the study of the cosmos becomes indeed a study of the utmost importance: by studying nature, man shall gain the fitting political knowledge that will enable him to

128  Chapter 5 understand the necessity to obey reason, that is, to obey the commands of the rational part of his soul.8

2 Reason as a criterion of truth In the previous chapter, we have seen that Panaetius may well have been responsible for the promotion of a new approach to physics, one that allows Stoics to make full use of mathematics (geometry and arithmetic) and harmony, as Plato did in the Timaeus. Panaetius called this approach ‘Pythagorean’ (more Pythagorae) (T4-9). We are going to see that Posidonius not only precisely developed such an approach, but also wanted to inscribe himself and Stoicism in general as part of a tradition of wisdom that goes back to Pythagoras. In fact, it has been convincingly shown that when he is referring approvingly to Plato, as he appears to have done a lot (like Panaetius did, see T4-1), it is always against the background of a larger, essentially Pythagorean, tradition.9 That is the case, for instance, of Plato’s account of the soul as tripartite,10 which, as we have seen, Posidonius seems to have endorsed against Chrysippus. Of particular interest to us here is Posidonius’ account of reason and its Pythagorean background. To introduce us to that question, let us see how he tried to present reason as the principal criterion of truth according to the Stoa: T5-2 They [the Stoics] say that the cognitive impression (τὴν καταληπτικὴν φαντασίαν) is the criterion of truth, i.e. the impression arising from what is. This is what Chrysippus says in the second book of his Physics, and also Antipater and Apollodorus. Boethus admits a number of criteria – intellect, sense-perception, desire and scientific knowledge. And Chrysippus, at variance with himself, says in the first of his books On Reason (Περὶ λόγου) that sense-perception and preconception (αἴσθησιν καὶ πρόληψιν) are the criteria; preconception is a natural conception of universals. Some of the older Stoics (ἄλλοι δέ τινες τῶν ἀρχαιοτέρων Στωϊκῶν) admit right reason (τὸν ὀρθὸν λόγον) as a criterion, as Posidonius says in his book On the Criterion. (D.L. 7.54 = Posidonius F42 E.-K., SVF 1.631 and 40A L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) What is here reported about Posidonius is not directly his own account of the criterion of truth but what he considered was part of the account of the early Stoics, namely, that they held right reason (ὀρθὸς λόγος) to be a standard of truth. If we compare it with what is usually (here as well as elsewhere) ascribed to the early Stoics, what Posidonius said about their position may look like an attempt to rewrite, or at least revise, the history of the Stoa in the domain of epistemology and logic, since what Zeno is especially known for, in that part of philosophy, is his defence of sense-perception (more on this infra).

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  129 To understand the level of revision Posidonius intended to introduce, we need to have a better understanding of what is meant by ‘cognition’ (κατάληψις) or ‘cognitive impression’ (φαντασία καταληπτική), the criterion of truth ancient doxographies attribute to the early Stoics. One crucial text for that is the following, from Diogenes Laertius: T5-3 It is by sense-perception (αἰσθήσει), they [the Stoics] hold, that we get cognition (κατάληψις) of white and black, rough and smooth, but it is by reason (λόγῳ) that we get cognition of conclusions reached through demonstration (τῶν δι’ ἀποδείξεως συναγομένων), such as the gods’ existence and their providence. (D.L. 7.52 = SVF 1.62 and 40P L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) A cognition or perception, generally speaking, refers to the grasping of a particular truth that is evident and therefore trustworthy. Evident truths can be obtained either by sense-perception (αἴσθησις) or by reason (λόγος). Neither all sense-perceptions nor all demonstrations are cognitive and therefore true, rather only those that are right. For instance, the Stoics hold that when one is in one’s natural condition (awake, healthy) and there are no external obstacles, one can trust what our senses tell us. Similarly, in terms of reasoning, they believe that some demonstrations are cognitive and that they are so (or should be so) for everybody. The difference between these two kinds of cognition is that demonstrations usually provide us with truths that are not, initially, self-evident, but become so only because of reason.11 So it is not immediately evident that gods exist or that they are provident,12 but it is possible to demonstrate these truths and do so in a manner that should be deemed universally convincing.13 So, when Posidonius is saying that the early Stoics held right reason to be a criterion of truth, he is certainly not ascribing to them anything that would be incompatible with what we otherwise learn from doxographies. Besides, it is undeniable that logic, and therefore also arguments and demonstrations, played a major part in the philosophy of the early Stoa: Zeno and Cleanthes relied on arguments to demonstrate the existence of gods, and, generally speaking, logic was recognized as the first part of philosophy to be mastered in order to protect oneself against sophisms.14 At the same time, it is fair to say that what Zeno is best known for,15 in the field of epistemology, is that he defended the general reliability of sense-perception, that is, of what corresponds to the other kind of cognition mentioned in T5-3. What was really distinctive about Zeno’s approach to knowledge was his attempt to prove that sense-perception (under a certain description) is reliable, and it seems that, by doing so, he parted ways with Polemo (one of his masters) and Plato’s Academy in general. As to Chrysippus, it is worth noting that, according to our T5-2, even in a book about reason, he maintained that it is sense-perception and preconception that are the criteria of truth.

130  Chapter 5 So, we have to ask ourselves why it was so important for Posidonius to claim that the early Stoics held right reason as a criterion of truth. As we are going to see, part of the answer to that question lies in the high regard he had for the Pythagorean approach to the study of the cosmos. An important piece of evidence for that comes from a section of Sextus Empiricus’ Against the Logicians, which several scholars believe to be of Posidonian origin,16 where Sextus reports the Pythagorean account of the criterion: T5-4 But the Pythagoreans said it [the criterion of truth] was reason (τὸν λόγον), but not in general; rather, it is the reason that develops from the sciences (τὸν δὲ ἀπὸ τῶν μαθημάτων περιγινόμενον). For example, Philolaus said that ‘Since it is capable of contemplating the nature of the universe, it has a certain affinity with this (ἔχειν τινὰ συγγένειαν πρὸς ταύτην), since like is naturally perceived by like (ὑπὸ τοῦ ὁμοίου τὸ ὅμοιον καταλαμβάνεσθαι πέφυκεν)’. For we see earth by earth, water by water, divine aether by aether, and obliterating fire by fire, love by love, and strife by dire strife. And, as Posidonius says in expounding Plato’s Timaeus (τὸν Πλάτωνος Τίμαιον ἐξηγούμενος), ‘Just as light is perceived by sight, which is luminous, and sound by hearing, which is airy, so too the nature of the universe ought to be perceived by something akin to it, namely reason (ἡ τῶν ὅλων φύσις ὑπὸ συγγενοῦς ὀφείλει καταλαμβάνεσθαι τοῦ λόγου).’ (S.E. M 7.92–93 = Posidonius F85 E.-K., trans. Bett, adapted) We have evidence here that Posidonius was particularly interested in Plato’s Timaeus since he appears to have commented on at least some passages of it. From what we learn from this passage, he seems to have approached the Timaeus as a work that belongs to the Pythagorean tradition, a tradition that holds that the criterion of truth is reason, although, specifies Sextus, not reason broadly conceived, but rather ‘the reason that develops from the sciences’, that is, that which develops from the study of mathematics and harmony.17 But reason is not a criterion for anything and everything: it has its own particular object which is ‘the nature of the universe’.18 And the reason why ‘reason’ is a criterion for that object is that it is ‘akin to it’ (συγγενής): it shares with it the same basic elemental substance, and, because of that, it is capable of perceiving such a substance, that is, of grasping the truth about it. Regarding Posidonius, he appears to have fully accepted that account of reason, using the same principle (that like is known by like): just as light is perceived by sight, because sight is lightlike, or sound is perceived by hearing, because hearing is airlike, the nature of the universe is perceived by reason, because reason is made of the same substance as cosmic nature, being in fact akin to it. If we want to fully understand what Posidonius’ account of reason is, we must find out what it is that makes reason naturally akin to the nature of the world. One important relevant passage has already been cited (T5-1b), in

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  131 which human reason, presented as a god or daimôn (the godlike part of the human soul), is said to ‘be akin and have a similar nature to the god which governs the whole universe’. Another important passage is the following: T5-5 He [Plato] links the name of daemons (Nomen daemonum) with the naming of gods (cum deorum appellatione), either because gods are daêmones (δαήμονες), that is, ‘knowing’ the future, or as Posidonius writes in the five books entitled On Heroes and Daemons, because the nature of daemons is created and partitioned from the substance of aether, the word being derived from daiomenon (ἀπὸ τοῦ δαιομένου), either in the sense of ‘burning’ (καιομένου) or in its sense of ‘being partitioned’ (μεριζομένου).” (Macr. Sat. 1.23.7 = Posidonius F24 E.-K., trans. Kidd) So, the reason why ‘reason’ is a criterion of truth with regard to the nature of the universe, that is, with regard to aether (the elemental substance that is governing the cosmos), is that it is itself made of aether, a substance that corresponds to the craftsmanlike type of fire that is god (on which, see supra T1-2 and T1-7). Now, since Pythagorean reason is essentially mathematical, this means that the nature in charge of the universe is itself mathematical and that we should approach the study of the cosmos through mathematics, which is exactly what Posidonius did. We shall come back to that later. For now, it is important to understand the teleological and therefore also providential dimension of reason for Posidonius: the telos of human beings is to lead a practical life based on the theoretical knowledge of the world; for that purpose, humans have been endowed with reason, because reason is a detached part of the very nature that is governing the cosmos (see supra T3-3 [b]). In that respect, reason appears to be (as it was already for the previous generations of Stoics) the greatest gift bestowed (by god) to human beings: reason is precisely what humans should be equipped with if they are to fulfil their telos and attain happiness.

3 God’s providence and the cosmos We have very little information about Posidonius’ conception of cosmic providence, but at least we can be sure that he looked at the world as a political entity, and at the heaven as its ruling power. Indeed, from two of the fragments we have discussed in Chapter 3, we gather that he saw the world as ‘a living being, rational, animate and intelligent’ (T3-3 [b]) and that he said that ‘the heaven is the ruling power of the world’ (T3-4), two doctrines that Chrysippus had already argued for in the first book of his On Providence. Among the arguments Posidonius employed to prove that the world is endowed with a (rational) soul, it is safe to say that he must have resorted to the idea that our souls are each ‘a detached fragment of the world’ (T3-3),

132  Chapter 5 since we have seen (in T5-1b) that he looked at the rational part of the human soul as a god or δαίμων that is ‘akin and has a similar nature to the one which governs the whole universe’. The poor state of our extant evidence prevents us from directly reconstructing what Posidonius had to say about the providential organization of the world. That is why we shall here need to rely on some of the material that is found in Cleomedes’ On the Heavens, a work that owes an important debt to the philosophy of Posidonius. Here is what Cleomedes says at the end of his treatise: T5-6 These [two] lecture courses do not comprise the writer’s actual doctrines, but have been amassed from certain treatises, earlier as well as more recent ones (καὶ παλαιῶν καὶ νεωτέρων). Most of the statements are taken from Posidonius’ [works] (Τὰ πολλὰ δὲ τῶν εἰρημένων ἐκ τῶν Ποσειδωνίου εἴληπται.) (Cleom. 2.7.11–14 = Posidonius T57 E.-K., trans. Bowen and Todd) Most scholars agree that the two main sources of Cleomedes in this work are from the early Stoa and from a more recent generation of Stoics, essentially Posidonius. But the last sentence suggests that even when Cleomedes is recalling an early Stoic account, it is through Posidonius as well. Given that Posidonius’ general account of the world is often associated with that of Chrysippus, this could explain why Cleomedes is content with Posidonius as his principal source, even when he is reporting doctrines or arguments that date back to the early Stoa. 3.1 The unity of the world and the sympathy of its parts Posidonius looked at contemplation and the study of nature as a means for attaining the ethical and political knowledge without which a happy life would not be possible (T5-1a). What he must principally have been looking for, through his study of nature, was how the world is administered by god (that is, by reason) and what the ultimate purpose of such administration is. We shall see, in Chapter 10, that although the Stoics are known for claiming that the world has been created for the sake of human beings (T10-2 and T10-3), the principal object of god’s providence is actually the preservation of the world itself (T10-1). That is also what is regularly emphasized in Cleomedes’ treatise, as we are about to see, and that also explains why Cleomedes starts off his first lecture by singling out ‘nature’ (φύσις) as the sort of cause governing the world: T5-7 [a] That the cosmos has nature as that which administers it can be known from the following: [b] the ordering of the parts within it; [c] the orderly succession of what comes into existence; [d] the sympathy of the parts in it for one another (ἐκ τῆς συμπαθείας τῶν ἐν αὐτῷ μερῶν

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  133 πρὸς ἄλληλα); [e] the fact that all individual entities are created for the sake of something; and, finally, [f] the fact that everything in the cosmos renders very useful services (ἐκ τοῦ πάντα μεγαλωφελεστάτας παρέχεσθαι τὰς χρείας). (Cleom. 1.1.11–15, trans. Bowen and Todd, adapted) The Stoics distinguish two main uses of ‘nature’, one where it refers to the specific process of growth in plants, and the other where it refers to the generic activity of ‘maintaining’ or ‘holding together’ (see infra T10-19). The two senses have in common the idea that nature is a sustaining power without which life cannot be maintained. They differ mainly in terms of scope, nature in the generic sense being a sustaining cause of the world and everything in it. It is in that latter sense that nature is taken in our text, as Cleomedes makes it clear a little bit later when he says that the world has ‘a holding power that maintains and preserves it’.19 That the world is not only alive but has a maintaining power that ensures its preservation is clear evidence of divine providence for the Stoics, something we shall come back to in Chapter 10. Acknowledging that the world is maintained, held together, by a nature is also a way for Cleomedes and the Stoics in general to reject two other alternatives according to which the world is either a body made of ‘things fastened together’ (ἐκ συναπτομένων), like a ship, or a body made of ‘things standing apart’ (ἐκ διεστώτων), like an army.20 What is distinctive of a body maintained by a nature is that it is fully unified, and such unification can be shown, among other things, by sympathy (συμπάθεια) between its parts [d]. We have seen in Chapter 1 that Zeno’s rejection of Aristotle’s fifth element (T1-7) was consistent with a conception of an undivided world, a conception that refuses to divide the world into two and to confine the divine to the supra-lunar realm. In order for god to be provident and for providence to be relevant to us, it is essential that the power of god, located in heaven, extends throughout the whole cosmos, down to the earth and human affairs. Such an extension is physically possible for two reasons. First, contrary to Aristotle, the Stoics hold that the element in heaven (fire or aether) is not irreducible to and incommensurable with the elements found on earth. Second, contrary to the Atomists, the Stoics hold that matter is infinitely divisible and that it does not contain void. So, nothing prevents god’s providence from extending throughout the cosmos, and Posidonius was keen to show this by explaining the sympathy that exists between the supra and the sub-lunar parts of the world, that is, between the seat of the world soul and what is, relatively to it, the most distant part of the world, namely, its centre, the earth. In particular, he appears to have often pointed to the influence of the motion of the moon on winds, and through them, on tides21 as clear examples of cosmic sympathy. The essential unity of the cosmos accounts also for the order of its parts [b] and the orderly way in which things are occurring in it [c]. Order is a direct

134  Chapter 5 effect of reason according to the Stoics, and the unity of the cosmos ensures that divine reason is never prevented from exercising its power everywhere. Finally, according to Cleomedes, it can be shown that the world is unified and governed by a single universal nature by pointing to the teleological [e] and providential [f] origin of everything it contains. The rationale here is probably that a purposeful world, where things naturally accord with one another in a teleological way,22 is only conceivable if one posits a single commanding and rational power in charge of everything. Given the essential goodness of reason, any particular telos that can be identified in the world will also be necessarily useful to human beings. 3.2 The providential power of heaven and the harmonizing function of the sun In one rare but all-important passage, Cleomedes ascribes to the heaven an explicitly providential power with regard to the world as a whole: T5-8 As [a] the heaven revolves in a circle above the air and the earth, and effect this motion as providential (προνοητικήν) for the preservation and continuing stability of the whole cosmos (ἐπὶ σωτηρίᾳ καὶ διαμονῇ τῶν ὅλων), they also necessarily carry round all the heavenly bodies that they encompass. Of these, then, [b] some [the fixed stars] have as their motion the simplest kind, since they are revolved by the heaven, and always occupy the same places in the heaven. But [c] others [the planets] move both with the motion that necessarily accompanies the heaven (they are carried round by them because they are encompassed), and with still another motion based on choice (κινεῖται δὲ καὶ ἑτέραν προαιρετικήν) through which they occupy different parts of the heaven at different times. This second motion of theirs is slower than the motion of the cosmos, and they also seem to go in the opposite direction to the heaven, since they move from west to east. (Cleom. 1.2.1–1, trans. Bowen and Todd, adapted) The heaven (οὐρανός) is the ruling power of the world according to Posidonius (see supra T3-4). As such, it is understandable for Cleomedes, who is here most certainly following Posidonius, to assert that the heaven’s providential goal [a] is the ‘preservation and continuing stability of the whole cosmos’, since that is the primary object of divine providence according to the Stoics. He further explains [b] that the heaven’s own circular motion is responsible (partly in one case) for the motions of the celestial beings it contains, namely, the innumerable fixed stars (which always occupy the same position in relation to one another) and the seven planets. The planets [c], however, follow a different pattern, apparently disconnected from and contrary to the general motion of the heaven. What accounts for that strange

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  135 behaviour is actually a mixture of two causes: the motion of the heaven, on the one hand, and what Cleomedes calls the planets’ own ‘faculty of choice’ (προαίρεσις), on the other hand.23 The argument recalls one that we have already encountered in Chapter 3 (T3-5) where stars (generally conceived) are identified as animate living beings on account of their having a capacity for judgement (κρίσις) and where the varied and apparently disorderly behaviour of the planets is said to suit the behaviour of animals. In other words, what could be misread, in the case of planets, as a chance-based motion is explained by resorting to the rational faculty of choice which, in animals, can also sometimes make them behave in a seemingly incoherent way. A little bit later, Cleomedes comes back to the providential action of the heaven, this time singling out the sun as being apparently the sole and unique cause of the preservation of the whole world: T5-9 [a] Also, by going through the zodiacal circle (that is, by effecting this type of course), it is the sun that harmonizes the whole cosmos (αὐτὸς ὅλον ἁρμόζεται τὸν κόσμον) and provides the universe with the most concordant administration (συμφωνοτάτην παρέχεται τὴν τῶν ὅλων διοίκησιν), since it is the cause of the permanence of the universe with regard to its order (αὐτὸς αἴτιος γινόμενος τῆς περὶ τὴν διάταξιν τῶν ὅλων διαμονῆς). [b] And if the sun changes its position (μεταστάντος), either by abandoning its own place, or by disappearing completely, not a single thing will then be born or grow—in fact nothing will subsist at all, but everything that exists and is visible will be dissolved together and so be destroyed! (Cleom. 2.1.396–403, trans. Bowen and Todd, adapted) It is the sun, writes Cleomedes, that harmonizes the cosmos, provides the most concordant form of administration and is the cause of the permanence of the universe. The importance that is given here to the sun and the harmonizing power that is attributed to it seem to recall Cleanthes’ account. As a reminder, we have seen that Cleanthes held the sun to be the ruling power of the world (T3-4), that he said that it is represented by Apollo (T2-6) and that he called the sun a ‘plectrum’ which, ‘as if striking the world, leads the light to its harmonious course’ (T2-7). At the same time, we have also seen that, generally speaking, the early Stoics do not seem to have endorsed the Pythagorean view of a fully mathematized world. As to Cleanthes, even if he introduced some mathematical and Pythagorean considerations in his account of the world, they were probably much less prominent than in Posidonius and Cleomedes (and possibly Panaetius). Besides, there still seems to be an important difference between Posidonius and Cleanthes, although one that can be easily overlooked: Posidonius insisted that it is the heaven as a whole that is the ruling power of the world, not just the sun. The sun is only a part of the heaven, and despite

136  Chapter 5 the importance given to it in the first half of our passage [a], the providential action of the sun is actually explained, in the second half [b], not by the sun itself but by its mathematical position. Already in the first book, Cleomedes indicated that the sun is ‘at the center of the other planets’,24 that is, below Saturn, Jupiter and Mars, and above Venus, Mercury and the moon. Now he says that if the sun were to change its position, either by simply moving to another place or disappearing completely, then everything would be destroyed. The importance given to the position of the sun (already acknowledged by Cleanthes, though) may be read, in the case of Cleomedes (and so also Posidonius), as a way to draw attention towards the real cause behind the providential effects of the sun: it is not the sun itself but the divine ‘scientific’ mind that is responsible for positioning the sun at the place it actually occupies. It may be also worth noting in this respect that Cleomedes never uses the biological image of seminal reasons in his treatise, but does mention on one occasion the figure of a cosmic demiurge.25 In that sense, his account of the world seems to rely on a more straightforward reading of the Timaeus than on the cosmo-biological one defended by the early Stoics. One can also add that the way Cleomedes explains the position of the sun agrees well with Plato’s general teleological approach, one that was originally presented in the Phaedo where it is ascribed to Socrates. There, Socrates explains, with regard to the earth, how he learned that the reason it is located at the centre of the world is because it was ‘better’ for it to be at that place: being at the centre is better for the earth and the whole cosmos because it contributes to their stability and conservation.26 Similarly, in Cleomedes’ treatise, what we are presented with is a teleological explanation of the cosmos where the place, shape and size of celestial bodies such as the sun, the moon or the earth are explained by reference to the good that a divine intelligence is taking as its goal while producing the world.

4 Against Epicurus In antiquity, Epicureanism was the only philosophical school which explicitly rejected providence as an activity of god, holding that the level of care and work that providence implies is incompatible with the common conception of god we have, which presents god as ‘an incorruptible and blessed animal’.27 I have already suggested that Chrysippus’ On Providence was at least partly aimed at Epicureans who had attacked Stoic theology (T3-2). But the antagonism between the two schools never went away, and, on the Stoic side, Posidonius appears to have been one of the fiercest opponents of Epicureanism. He attacked Epicurus on three related fronts: theology, ethics (the telos) and epistemology (the criterion of truth), three domains that are closely linked in Posidonius’ own philosophy, as we have seen. The combination of these three criticisms will help us to shed some more light on his conception of providence.

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  137 Let us start with Posidonius’ attack of Epicurus’ presentation of god: T5-10 [a] It is doubtless, therefore, truer to say, as the good friend of us all, Posidonius, argued in the fifth book of his On the Nature of the Gods, that Epicurus does not really believe in the gods at all, and that he said what he did about the immortal gods only for the sake of averting popular odium. [b] Indeed he could not have been so senseless as really [b1] to imagine god to be like a feeble human being (homunculi), but resembling one only in outline and surface, not in solid substance, and possessing all of a human’s limbs but entirely incapable of using them, an emaciated and transparent being, [b2] showing no kindness or beneficence to anybody (nihil cuiquam tribuentem, nihil gratificantem), caring for nothing (omnino nihil curantem) and doing nothing at all (nihil agentem). [c1] In the first place, a being of this nature is an absolute impossibility, and Epicurus was aware of this, and so actually (re) abolishes the gods, although professedly (oratione) retaining them. [c2] Secondly, even if god exists, yet is of such a nature that he feels no benevolence or affection towards humans, good-bye to him, say I – not ‘God be gracious to me (propitius sit),’ why should I say that? – for he cannot be gracious to anybody, since, as you [Epicureans] tell us, all benevolence and affection is a mark of weakness (omnis in inbecillitate est et gratia et caritas). (Cic. ND 1.123–124 = Posidonius F22a E.-K., trans. Rackham, adapted) The passage is found at the end of the first book of Cicero’s text and corresponds to the final criticism, by the sceptical Academic Cotta, of the Epicurean account of god previously given by Velleius. According to Cotta, Posidonius claimed that Epicurus did not actually believe in the existence of gods, but only [a] professed that there are gods by fear of widespread odium. He argues that Epicurus’ concept of god is an impossible one [b1 and c1] for it is formed from the bare shape of a human being28 without any solid substance (a homunculus): god is like a human being with all his limbs but incapable of using them. In addition to that [b2 and c2], by refusing to attribute to god any form of care, benevolence and providence, Epicurus is imagining a god that has nothing to do with the way people generally conceive of god and with the practice of prayer by which humans seek for god’s help. As to Posidonius’ attacks against Epicurean ethics and epistemology, they obviously stem from his own account of the telos and promotion of reason. First, we have seen that he seems to have accepted Plato’s partition of the human soul and that he looked at the higher (rational) part of the soul as a god or daimôn akin to the god that administers the whole world. By contrast, the lowest part of the soul, which is called ‘appetitive’ and seeks after pleasure only, is presented as ‘beastlike’. Galen (in T5-1b), while reporting Posidonius’ view, clearly connects Epicurus’ conception of the telos with the lowest part of the soul, saying that ‘Epicurus had eyes only’ for it.29 Such an

138  Chapter 5 attack against Epicurean hedonism would particularly make sense in the case of Posidonius, since he thought that the only way to get to the truth of the nature of the world was to identify oneself with the divine, rational part of our soul: only then could one understand that the world is governed by a rational and providential nature. In Cleomedes, we find an important passage where Epicurean hedonism is explicitly singled out as the cause of Epicurus’ alleged failed physics and rejection of divine providence. It occurs immediately after T5-9: T5–11 [a] Epicurus, then, should have attended to all this, and reflected on whether a fire that was 1 foot wide could have a power that was so extensive, so great, and so prodigious. [b] But in astronomy, in the area of impressions, and in every investigation generally, he [Epicurus] was the same as in his treatment of the first principles of the cosmos, the theory of the goal of life, and in ethics generally – a man far blinder than a bat! No wonder, since pleasure-loving fellows (φιληδόνων ἀνθρώπων) certainly cannot uncover the truth in what exists. That is for human beings who are naturally disposed to virtue and value nothing ahead of it, not for lovers of a ‘tranquil condition of flesh’ and the ‘confident expectation regarding it’. [c] In an earlier generation they drummed the Epicureans and their scriptures out of communities in the belief that doctrines that had reached such a level of blind perversion offered people offense and corruption.30 Today, by contrast, because people are, I think, undone by effeminate luxury, they esteem the members of the sect and their actual treatises so highly that they seem to have a stronger desire for Epicurus and the members of his school to speak the truth than for the gods and providence to exist in the cosmos (ἢ θεοὺς καὶ πρόνοιαν ἐν τοῖς ὅλοις εἶναι). In fact, some would even pray for providence to be destroyed rather than have Epicurus convicted of false statements. That is the wretched state that they are in – so reduced by pleasure that they revere its advocate above everything in life! (Cleom. 2.1.404–425, trans. Bowen and Todd, adapted) Having just explained that the sun plays a central part in god’s rational plan for the preservation of the world, Cleomedes turns to Epicurus’ account of the size of the sun [a]. Epicurus’ completely wrong measurement (‘1 foot wide’), based on sense-perception, was only to be expected, says Cleomedes, from a philosopher who held pleasure as the telos [b]. In fact, the failure of the whole philosophy of Epicurus is presented here as the result of an illdefined telos that can only make us ‘blinder than a bat’ with regard to the truth of things. There is a strong suspicion that Cleomedes is here voicing a criticism initially made by Posidonius. First, the close association between the philosophy of Epicurus and the rejection of providence [c] shows that our passage should be read in continuation of T5-8 and T5-9, texts that likely recall

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  139 Posidonius’ view about the heaven’s providential management of the cosmos. Second, we have seen that given the conception of the telos defended by Posidonius, he must have looked at Epicurean hedonism as a godless goal, completely ill-suited to the divine nature of human beings. Finally, the importance that Posidonius gave to reason as a criterion of truth (in T5-2 and T5-4), at the expense of sense-perception, not only fits perfectly his own conception of the telos, but seems also directly at work behind Cleomedes’ criticism of Epicurus with regard to the measurement of the size of the sun. From another section of Cleomedes’ treatise, we learn more about why sense-perception should not always be trusted and why reason only should be used as a criterion of truth with regard to cosmology: T5-12 Now sight itself seems to suggest that the cosmos is a sphere. However, it must not be made a criterion for its shape, since everything does not in fact usually appear to us as it [really] is (οὐ γὰρ πάντα ἡμῖν, ᾗ ἔχει, φαντάζεσθαι εἴωθεν). For that reason, one should start from things that are clearer and presented cognitively to us (ἀπὸ τῶν ἐναργέστερον καὶ καταληπτικῶς ἡμῖν φαινομένων) and then, on the basis of a manifest [logical] implication (κατὰ τὴν φαινομένην ἀκολουθίαν), infer from them things that are not in and of themselves evident (ἐπὶ τὰ μὴ αὐτόθεν ἐκφανῆ). Accordingly, if we demonstrate that the most solid (that is, the most compact) part of the cosmos, the earth, has a spherical shape, we could easily learn by a transition from this to its remaining parts that they are all spherical, and in this way that the whole cosmos too has this sort of shape. (Cleom. 1.5.1–9, trans. Bowen and Todd, adapted) The idea that we should not have full confidence in our senses (here, in the most important one, sight) and that ‘everything does not in fact usually appear to us as it [really] is’ is clearly aimed at Epicurus (and Epicureans in general) since he claimed that sense-perception is always right. It is worth recalling here that Epicurus argued for the infallibility of the senses by strongly opposing senses and reason and making the ‘irrationality’ of the senses the best guarantee of their reliability.31 Indeed, senses are passive and incapable by themselves of adding any extraneous materials to the actual content of their object, whereas reason is essentially active and can therefore always be suspected of introducing foreign information into the content of its object.32 Against this view, Cleomedes is holding that reason is actually the only suitable criterion of truth when it comes to the study of celestial bodies, be it of their shape (as here), their place or their size. If one wants to grasp the truth about objects such as these, objects that are notoriously obscure, so much so that many have doubted about the possibility for human beings to know them, one should use reason and demonstration, says Cleomedes: reason, when it is right (when the logical implication or ἀκολουθία of a demonstration is ‘patent’ or ‘manifest’), enables us to safely

140  Chapter 5 gain new knowledge about obscure objects by means of inference from more evident and ‘cognitive’ (καταληπτικῶς) premises. Now, to come back to T5-11, the reason why Epicurus failed to acknowledge the providential administration of the world, according to Cleomedes (and most probably Posidonius), is because of the senseless confidence he put in the senses. By relying on sight only, Epicurus was unable to correctly measure the actual size of the sun and was therefore bound to fail to understand the crucial part the sun plays with regard to the conservation of the whole cosmos. But again, that was only to be expected given Epicurus’ disdain for reason, which is itself ultimately the result of a wrong conception of the telos where pleasure, rather than virtue and reason, is held to be the supreme good of human beings.

5 Providence and the city (Sen. Ep. 90) Posidonius’ interest in politics is obvious from a reading of the fragments of his History, a treatise intended to cover the period from 146/145 B.C. (where Polybius’ History finishes) to ‘the middle or late 80s, and [which] was possibly, like Thucydides’ History, unfinished’.33 In the field of history, Posidonius was clearly a philosopher-historian, to use Ian Kidd’s expression, writing his History, according to Athenaeus, ‘in a manner consonant with the philosophy he had adopted’.34 There, in his depiction of statesmen and tyrants, he usually tended to provide a psychological explanation for their actions and, more generally, their success or failure to safeguard the city or the empire they were governing. In particular, he was keen to stress the kind of desire at work in a ruler’s soul, explaining for instance the eventual downfall of tyrants due to them identifying with the lowest part of their soul, the one concerned with pleasure.35 The important fragment we are going to look at now is found in Seneca’s Letter 90. We have no information as to where it was originally discussed by Posidonius, and even if it bears out Posidonius’ strong interest in history, it is nevertheless unlikely that it comes from his History.36 The fragment in question is about the origin of society and culture and the decisive role played by philosophy or wisdom37 in the early development of mankind. To put it differently, Posidonius is presenting to us a depiction of humanity in its cradle, when it was still as close as possible to nature, before the emergence of vice and corruption. In Stoic scholarship, the idea of looking at the behaviour of human beings ‘in the cradle’ is usually associated with the Stoic account of the telos and the enquiry the Stoics conducted into the nature of the first human impulses (see infra Chapter 9, section 3.1). They were, apparently, following in the footsteps of Epicurus who is the first Hellenistic philosopher to have developed that sort of argumentation.38 What is maybe a little bit less well known is that the Stoics also applied that approach to humanity in general, observing it at its inception, in the hope of finding out the cause of the emergence of

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  141 the first human societies. The Epicureans had already their own narrative,39 saying that in the early times, cities did not exist and human beings lived scattered,40 that they were led to associate with others through the power of (sexual) pleasure41 and that the first societies were the product of a kind of social contract.42 They also distinguished between two important phases in the history of human societies: one characterized by the rule of kings,43 and the other by the rule of laws,44 insisting that the latter occurred only after the collapse of the former. The Epicurean account is perfectly in line with Epicurus’ philosophy, in particular his doctrine of the human telos, the non-teleological conception of nature that he defends in his physics and his denial of divine providence. As we are now going to see, the same is true of Posidonius’ account (and Seneca’s) with regard to Stoic philosophy. 5.1 The condition of the first human beings according to Seneca In his letter,45 Seneca expresses both approval and criticism concerning Posidonius’ account. It is important to identify areas where the two seem to agree, and where they don’t. That is not, however, an easy task since Seneca seems sometimes to defend varying views. 5.1.1 Philosophy and wisdom did not yet exist At the beginning of the letter, Seneca describes the first human beings as living in communities and willingly submitting themselves to rulers who were deemed intellectually superior (§4). He explicitly agrees with Posidonius (§7) that the first cities were initially ruled by sages or philosophers (§5), and then by laws that were themselves laid down by philosophers (§6). By the end of the letter, however, he declares that there were simply no sages among the early human beings: T5-13 Although their life was exceptional and free from deceit, there were no wise men (non fuere sapientes), since this name is now given to the greatest achievement. Yet I wouldn’t deny that there were men of lofty spirit (alti spiritus uiros), men sprung, so to speak, freshly from the gods (ut ita dicam, a dis recentes); nor is there any doubt that the universe yielded superior things when it was not yet worn out. Just as the character of all men was braver and more ready for toil, so there were not yet intellects perfected in all things (ita non erant ingenia omnibus consummata). For nature does not give us virtue (Non enim dat natura uirtutem); it requires an art to become good (ars est bonum fieri). (Sen. Ep. 90.44, trans. Fantham) The first human beings were indeed superior since they were born from the gods and from a young, ‘not yet worn out’, universe. They had a lofty spirit, were braver and more ready to toil. Still, they were not and could not have

142  Chapter 5 been wise because, by definition, virtue or wisdom is not a gift of nature (see supra Chapter 2, section 5.2): it requires an art, namely, philosophy. What could be mistaken for genuine goodness and virtue was in fact, according to Seneca, ignorant innocence: T5-14 They were innocent out of ignorance of worldly matters (Ignorantia rerum innocentes erant), and it makes a great difference whether someone does not want to offend or does not know how to. They did not have justice, or prudence, or temperance and courage. This primitive life had things similar to these virtues, but virtue does not come to mind unless it is trained and taught (instituto et edocto) and brought to its highest condition by constant exercise. We are certainly born for this goal, but without it, and even in the best people before you educate them, there is the raw material of virtue, but not virtue itself. (Sen. Ep. 90.46, trans. Fantham, adapted) What nature initially provided human beings with, which in itself is a sign of divine providence, is not virtue but the ‘raw material of virtue’ (uirtutis materia): virtue is that in which human beings find their perfection, but it is a goal that requires instruction and exercise. That, in itself, demands effort and the passing of time (see also infra T6-8). 5.1.2 The appearance of greed and the invention of crafts Even if Seneca eventually appears to disagree with Posidonius on the question of whether philosophy or wisdom was already in existence at the earliest stage of the history of human beings, he never explicitly criticizes Posidonius on that issue. The only stated disagreement is about the relationship between philosophy and craft: while Posidonius is reported to have held that craft was discovered by philosophers, Seneca associates craft with the rise of vice and greed, and thus categorically refuses to link it to philosophy. Seneca’s uncompromisingly negative account of the origin46 and effects47 of craft stems from an anti-Promethean view48 that has clear cynic overtones: T5-15 Nature was not so unfair (iniqua) that when she gave all other living things an easy passage through life, human beings alone could not live without all these crafts; she has not given us any harsh orders or made anything hard to obtain in order that life could continue. We have been born with a ready supply (Ad parata nati sumus): we have made everything difficult for ourselves by our disdain for easy things. (Sen. Ep. 90.18, trans. Fantham) According to Seneca, prometheanism, or the view that craft is necessary for counterbalancing the natural weakness of human beings (compared to the other animals),49 is incompatible with the idea of a truly providential nature.

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  143 The idea that craft is necessary for life and its preservation would imply that nature did not provide in advance for human beings, that she imposed harsh demands on them, which is just not the case. In fact, the first human beings did not lack anything and their life was comparable to that of a cynic sage: T5-16a The wise person was undemanding in his way of life. … Which of these [Diogenes or Daedalus] seems wise to you? The person who devised the saw, or the one who saw a boy drinking water from the hollow of his hand and immediately took his cup out of his knapsack and broke it, scolding himself like this: ‘Fool that I am! How long I carried superfluous baggage!’ (Sen. Ep. 90.14, trans. Fantham) T5-16b What was more blessed than the human race? They enjoyed the world in common (In commune rerum natura fruebantur); earth, like a mother, was sufficient for the protection of all human beings (sufficiebat illa ut parens in tutelam omnium); this protection was the carefree possession of public resources. Surely, I could call the human race most wealthy, since you could find no poor person in it! Avarice broke into these fine conditions, and in wanting to divert something and turn it to its own use, it put everything beyond its control and reduced itself from unlimited abundance to a narrow compass. (Sen. Ep. 90.38, trans. Fantham) Although, insists Seneca, the first human beings were not really wise, but rather ‘like sages (sapientibus similes)’ (§16), their way of life can be recovered, thanks to the Cynics who, living a life that is in accordance with nature, show that ‘nature has made no harsh or difficult demands on us’ (§15). Besides, Cynic cosmopolitanism shows that the first human beings ‘enjoyed the world in common’, and that it is the privatization of the common good that led human beings to turn their back to nature, with the need for craft as a result. 5.2 The condition of the first human beings according to Posidonius Posidonius is not named before §5 of Letter 90, but we have reasons to believe (see infra) that his account is reported from §4 onwards. As to the three opening paragraphs, although their content should first and foremost be attributed to Seneca, they are general enough as to be compatible with Posidonius’ views. This is especially true, I think, of the way Seneca presents philosophy as a gift of providence: T5-17a Dear Lucilius, who can doubt that we live by the gifts of the gods, but live well by the gifts of philosophy? We could be sure that we have a greater debt to philosophy than to the gods, since a good life is a greater gift than life itself, if it were not the gods who originally

144  Chapter 5 bestowed philosophy upon us (nisi ipsam philosophiam di tribuissent): they gave knowledge of philosophy to no one (cuius scientiam nulli dederunt), but the ability to philosophize to all ( facultatem omnibus). (Sen. Ep. 90.1, trans. Fantham, adapted) Seneca starts by distinguishing what we owe directly to the gods (life) and to philosophy (good life), before describing philosophy (and good life) as a gift of gods too. This strange way of proceeding is a manner for him to underline the peculiarity of philosophy: it is granted to us as a faculty only and its fruit (the good life) requires an active contribution on our part. As it is, the gods had their reasons for not making philosophy a gift like the others: T5-17b If they had made that good also common to all (uulgare) and we had been born with prudence (prudentes nasceremur), wisdom (sapientia) would have lost its finest property, of not being among the gifts of fortune (inter fortuita non esse). As it is, wisdom has this precious and glorious quality, that it does not offer itself (non obuenit), that each person owes it to his own efforts, and it is not to be gained from others. What would there be for you to revere (suspiceres) in philosophy if it were just a present (beneficiaria res)? (Sen. Ep. 90.2, trans. Fantham, adapted) The singularity of philosophy – namely that it is not a gift of fortune, like all other goods are, but requires efforts on our part – is itself the result of gods’ providential care: they made it like that so that human beings would naturally come to single out philosophy from all the other goods, and revere it; in other words, it was a way for the gods to lead human beings to discover the supreme good, the one that will bring them happiness. The reason why philosophy alone can lead us to happiness, explains Seneca, is that its task is to discover wisdom, that is, the knowledge of divine and human affairs: T5-17c It is philosophy’s sole task (opus unum) to discover the truth about divine and human affairs (de diuinis humanisque uerum inuenire); religious scruple, piety, justice, and all the other retinue of interrelated and mutually supportive virtues never stray from this pursuit. Philosophy taught us to worship things divine and love human affairs (Haec docuit colere diuina, humana diligere), that authority lay with the gods and collaboration with mankind (et penes deos imperium esse, inter homines consortium). And this collaboration remained unbroken for some time before greed (auaritia) tore apart community and brought poverty even to those it made most wealthy, since people ceased to possess all things once they desired all things for their own. (Sen. Ep. 90.3, trans. Fantham, slightly adapted)

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  145 The definition of wisdom as knowledge of divine and human affairs goes back at least to Panaetius (see T4-15 [b]), and is connected to Posidonius (and Chrysippus) by Seneca himself in another letter (Ep. 104.22). We have learned in the previous chapter that wisdom thus defined has a political dimension, and that is also clearly the case here, according to Seneca. On the one hand, the common possession of reason between human beings and the gods creates a special bond between the two, based on religio and pietas, virtues that specify the way humans should behave in relation to the gods, namely by recognizing them as rulers (‘authority lay with the gods’). On the other hand, the common possession of reason by human beings creates a special bond between them based on justice. While the relationship between humans and gods is vertical, that between human beings themselves is horizontal and equalitarian, and that is why justice is associated with ‘collaboration’ (consortium). It is when the natural equality between humans is broken, with the rise of avarice (wanting more than one’s own fair share), that injustice and the other vices make their way into the life of human beings. All in all, nothing in these first three paragraphs is incompatible with Posidonius’ account, which we are going to examine. It is true that the insistence that philosophy requires effort and that the good life is not a given agrees well with Seneca’s claim that the first humans were not wise and that their innocence comes from ignorance, not wisdom (T5-17a-b). The claim that avarice is at the origin of vices is also a thesis that Seneca defends, as we have seen (T5-16b). At the same time, avarice is presented here as following a state of justice between human beings, which makes little sense if one holds, with Seneca, that the first human beings did not possess philosophy and virtues. We will see that Posidonius, on the other hand, makes egalitarianism a central principle of the first (wise) rulers and of the laws laid down by the first philosophers. 5.2.1 Kingship and the voluntary submission to the best The next paragraph of the letter starts depicting the state of the first human cities. Its content, although not attributed to Posidonius, is coherent with his doctrine, reported from §5 onwards, according to which the first human beings were ruled by philosopher-kings. At this stage, Seneca explains the principle according to which it is natural for the inferior to voluntarily submit to the superior and what superiority means in particular for human beings: T5-18 [a] But the earliest mortals and those of their descendants who followed nature without being perverted (Sed primi mortalium quique ex his geniti naturam incorrupti sequebantur), had the same person as both ruler and law, entrusting themselves to the judgment and authority of one person better than themselves (commissi melioris arbitrio), since it is natural (natura est) for inferior beings to submit themselves to more

146  Chapter 5 powerful ones. [b] Take herds of dumb animals: either the biggest or the strongest creatures have command. It is not the bull inferior to his breeding but the one who surpasses the other males in size and muscle who goes before the herds; it is the tallest elephant who leads the troupe; among human beings, ‘the best’ replaces ‘the biggest’ (inter homines pro maximo est optimum). [c] So the ruler used to be chosen for the quality of his mind (Animo itaque rector eligebatur), and [c1] the greatest felicity among nations was enjoyed by those among whom only the better person could be the more powerful (in quibus non poterat potentior esse nisi melior). For [c2] a human being can safely enjoy as much power as he wants (tuto enim quantum uult potest) if he believes that he only has power to act as he should (qui se nisi quod debet non putat posse). (Sen. Ep. 90.4, trans. Fantham, adapted) The first cities, which emerged in the early times of humanity, when human nature was still unperverted, are characterized by the fact that [a] their citizens voluntarily (cf. eligebatur) entrusted themselves to the authority and care of one person who was ‘both ruler and law’ to them, that is, to a king.50 The naturality of kingship is explained [b] by reference to the natural behaviour of animals: they submit themselves to one animal that is physically the strongest of them all. In the case of human beings, which are rational animals, the ruler is not chosen for his strength but [c] for the quality if his mind (animus): it is not the biggest or the largest (maximum) that should rule, but the best (optimum), that is, the one that has the best moral and intellectual qualities for making correct judgement on behalf of the whole community. The felicity of the city depends on the correct attribution of power [c1]: power must be awarded to the best citizen only. It is also the safest (tuto) move [c2]: a person who has the best moral qualities will exercise the power he has been granted only when he should (debet), that is, when his best judgement tells him to. It is possible to show the orthodoxy of the two main points of this account: that human beings should naturally submit to the best, that is, to the sage, and that the sage should be offered kingship and enjoy unhindered power. Indeed, the early Stoics held that only the sage is both free and king and that kingship, properly defined, implies sovereign, unimpeded power: T5-19a The wisest people say that no one but the sage is free (nisi sapientem liberum esse neminem). What, indeed, is freedom? The power to live as one wishes (Potestas uiuendi ut uelis). (Cic. Parad. 5.34) T5-19b Besides being free the wise are also kings (οὐ μόνον δ’ ἐλευθέρους εἶναι τοὺς σοφούς, ἀλλὰ καὶ βασιλέας), since kingship is a rule that is answerable to no one (τῆς βασιλείας οὔσης ἀρχῆς ἀνυπευθύνου); and this can occur only among the wise, as Chrysippus says in his work On

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  147 Zeno’s Proper Use of Terminology. For he says that a ruler must have knowledge of what is good and bad, and that no inferior person has this. (D.L. 7.122 = SVF 3.617 and 67M2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) T5-19c Thus the following argument is well to the point. He who always acts wisely, always acts well (ὁ φρονίμως πάντα ποιῶν εὖ ποιεῖ πάντα): he who always acts well, always acts rightly (ὀρθῶς): he who always acts rightly, also acts impeccably (ἀναμαρτήτως), blamelessly (ἀμέμπτως), faultlessly (ἀνεπιπλήκτω), in an unaccountable (ἀνυπευθύνως) and unpunishable manner (ἀζημίως), and, therefore, will have the right to do anything, and to live as he wishes (ὥστ’ ἐξουσίαν σχήσει πάντα δρᾶν καὶ ζῆν ὡς βούλεται), and he who has this right must be free (ταῦτ’ ἔξεστιν, ἐλεύθερος ἂν εἴη). But the good person always acts wisely, and, therefore, he alone is free (μόνος ἄρα ἐστὶν ἐλεύθερος). (Phil. Probus 59, trans. Colson, adapted) The Stoics looked at freedom (ἐλευθερία) and kingship (βασίλεια) as two attributes of the sage that are closely linked. Freedom,51 they say, is ‘the power to live as one wishes’ (T5-19a and c), a definition that is actually alluded to in the end of T5-18 (‘tuto enim quantum uult potest’). The reason the sage is free is because wisdom allows human beings ‘the licence of doing what they want’, wanting only what is in accordance with right reason (T5-19b and c) and thus never being impeded by anything.52 Now, the king also is free, because kingship is ‘a rule that is answerable to no one (ἀνυπεύθυνος)’ (T5-19b). By definition, a king has absolute, sovereign power, which means that his actions are, literally, unaccountable and that he therefore never runs the risk of being prosecuted (and thus impeded) in case he commits an injustice. In Herodotus, in the famous debate about the best regime, Otanes, a proponent of democracy,53 attacks monarchy precisely because of the unaccountability of the king and the risk of abuse it implies: T5-20 How can monarchy be an orderly affair, when a monarch has the licence to do whatever he wants, without being accountable to anyone (τῇ ἔξεστι ἀνευθύνῳ ποιέειν τὰ βούλεται)? Make a man monarch, and even if he is the most moral person in the world (τὸν ἄριστον ἀνδρῶν πάντων), he will leave his customary ways of thinking. All the advantages of his position breed arrogant abusiveness in him, and envy is engrained in human nature anyway. (Hdt. 3.80, trans. Waterfield) There is little doubt that the early Stoics were aware either of this particular passage or of its argument and that their own political philosophy intended to reply to its main objection, namely that absolute power corrupts even the best people. In their view, virtue is a matter of knowledge, and wisdom

148  Chapter 5 is what provides the sage with the knowledge of good and evil (T5-19b). In their demonstration of the freedom of the sage (T5-19c), they explain that the sage acts ‘in an unaccountable and unpunishable manner’ because, by definition, ‘he who always acts wisely, always acts well’, that is, always acts rightly, impeccably, blamelessly and faultlessly. Now, if a king is also a sage or a philosopher, one can safely (T5-18 [c2]: tuto) entrust him with absolute power because the law to which a philosopher or sage obeys (the law of nature or right reason) makes him want to do only what is right and just (T5-18 [c2]: debet). As for the idea that human beings should naturally submit to the sage, it has been preserved by Philo in a passage where he is reporting Zeno’s view: T5-21 [a] We may well suppose that the fountain from which Zeno drew this thought [cf. 53, 2 = SVF 1.228: ‘Shall not the bad regret it if he contradicts the good? (οὐκ οἰμώξεται μὲν ὁ φαῦλος, ἐὰν ἀντιλέγῃ τῷ σπουδαίῳ;)’] was the law-book of the Jews, which tells of two brothers, one wise and temperate, the other incontinent, how the father of them both prayed in pity for him who had not attained to virtue that he should be his brother’s slave. [b] He held that slavery (δουλείαν), which men think the worst of evils, was the best possible good to the fool (ἀγαθὸν τελεώτατον ὑπολαμβάνων ἄφρονι), [c] because it deprives him from sovereign power so that he cannot sin with impunity (τὸ μὲν αὐτεξούσιον ἀφῃρημένῳ πρὸς τὸ μὴ σὺν ἀδείᾳ πλημμελεῖν), and [d] his character would be improved under the control of the authority set above him (ἐκ δὲ τῆς τοῦ προεστῶτος προστασίας βελτιωθησομένῳ τὸ ἦθος). (Phil. Probus 57.6, trans. Colson, adapted) According to Philo, Zeno wrote [a] that the bad person (the φαῦλος), in other words, the fool (ὁ ἄφρων), shall regret it if he contradicts the good person (the σπουδαῖος), and we understand, from this passage, that he meant that obeying and submitting to the wise (becoming his ‘slave’) is not only a good thing, but the best possible thing that can happen to someone who is not a sage [b]. He offers a double explanation for it. First [c], by being a slave, one is deprived of the sovereign power (αὐτεξούσιον) that is characteristic of a master or a king. Now, as we have seen, such a power is ‘unaccountable’ and for that reason gives its holder full immunity (ἄδεια) with regard to his actions. When one is a fool and therefore also a morally bad person, such an immunity becomes an inciter for wrong-doing, an idea emphasized by Otanes in his speech (T5-20), as we have seen. For that reason, the fool himself will be better off if he is deprived of the power to rule, which means here not only the power to rule others but also himself. Being a slave, he will only be allowed to do what his master wants, not what he himself wants (he shall not be free). The second argument [d] adds that when one is made the slave of a sage, which is the case here discussed, one benefits, although

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  149 indirectly, from the rule of reason, since one is forced to obey a master that is himself obeying the law of reason. Because of that, not only shall the fool not be able to sin with impunity anymore, but he shall also start to improve his moral condition.54 This last argument means that being made a slave to a wise person is not a static and everlasting condition, for the Stoics: the hope is that, eventually, with the help of the good guidance of the wise master, the slave will improve sufficiently so as to become a master himself, in other words, a sage.55 Philo’s text enables us to have a better understanding of Posidonius’ account of the political condition of the first human beings: those who were not wise, or less wise, naturally submitted themselves to the wisest people, and they did so because it was in their own interest to do it. A fragment from Posidonius’ History shows that Posidonius was keen to find historical evidence for that kind of natural behaviour: T5-22 Posidonius, the Stoic, says in Book XI of the History: ‘Many who are unable to champion themselves because of the feebleness of their intelligence (διὰ τὸ τῆς διανοίας ἀσθενές) hand themselves over to the service of more intelligent people (ἐπιδοῦναι ἑαυτοὺς εἰς τὴν τῶν συνετωτέρων ὑπηρεσίαν) to get from them provision for their necessary wants (ὅπως παρ’ ἐκείνων τυγχάνοντες τῆς εἰς τὰ ἀναγκαῖα ἐπιμελείας), and themselves in return render to them through their own persons whatever service they are capable of (αὐτοὶ πάλιν ἀποδιδῶσιν ἐκείνοις δι’ αὑτῶν ἅπερ ἂν ὦσιν ὑπηρετεῖν δυνατοί). It was in this way that the Mariandynians submitted themselves to the Heracleots, promising to serve (θητεύσειν) them permanently as long as the latter provided their needs (τὰ δέοντα), but with the added stipulation that none of them be sold outside Heracleot territory, but only in their land’. (Ath. Deip. 6.263C-D = Posidonius F60 E.-K., trans. Kidd) The text makes it clear that submission to the wiser is understood as voluntary by Posidonius,56 and that it is done in the awareness of the good that such submission does for the one accepting to become a slave or, in this case, a serf. What the Mariandynians expected from being ruled by the Heracleots was receiving continuous provision for their basic needs (τὰ ἀναγκαῖα), which is indeed part of what providence is supposed to do, as Seneca explained in the beginning of his letter (T5-17a-c). There is no mention, however, of moral improvement and happiness here. That is maybe not too surprising since the Heracleot rulers were no sages, and the community both tribes formed was of course a far cry from the ideal city of the golden age of the human kind. All Posidonius wanted to do, with this case, was show that submission to wisdom is a natural behaviour among human beings and that such behaviour can still be documented among tribes that selfconsciously describe themselves as lacking in intelligence.

150  Chapter 5 5.2.2 The political usefulness of wisdom If we want to have a better understanding of the kind of benefit a city and its citizens get from the rule of a philosopher, we will have to return to Seneca’s Letter 90, which now introduces Posidonius by name: T5-23 [a] In the age that men call golden Posidonius believes kingship belonged to wise people ( penes sapientes fuisse regnum). They [b] subdued violence (continebant manus) and protected weaker persons from stronger; they [c] advised to act or not to act and showed what was useful and what was not; their prudence [d] saw to it that their people lacked nothing (horum prudentia ne quid deesset suis prouidebat); their courage [e] warded off dangers, their beneficence [f] advanced and enhanced their subordinates (beneficentia augebat ornabatque subiectos). [g] To command was a duty, not a form of domination (Officium erat imperare, non regnum). [h] No man tested how much power he could wield against those who had conferred that power upon him, nor did anyone have the intention or excuse for committing injustice, since the ruler ruled well and the subject obeyed well (cum bene imperanti bene pareretur), and [i] a king could make no worse threats to those who disobeyed than that of resigning from his kingship. (Sen. Ep. 90.5 = Posidonius F284 E.-K. and 67Y1 L.-S., trans. Fantham, adapted) Kingship properly understood, namely [a] when the king is a sage or philosopher, is a regime the absolute power of which serves [b] to protect people from the power of brutal force (manus) or tyranny. The possession of the knowledge of good and bad (cf. T5-19b) enables the philosopher-king [c] to correctly guide and advise the citizens and show what is useful or not to them. The virtues of the philosopher play here a decisive role. The text begins [d] with prudentia, to which it obviously gives a prominent role: thanks to his prudentia or foresight, the king ‘sees to it’ (prouidere) that the citizens lack nothing.57 Second [e], his courage keeps them away from danger. And finally [f], his beneficentia58 ‘advances and enhances’ those who initially accepted subjection to him.59 The text clearly shows [g] that the goal of the philosopher-king is not to maintain his subjects in an inferior condition but, on the contrary, to enhance their state, which here must also mean to help them improve morally. Finally [h], in such a perfect society, where all men behave in accordance with nature, injustice is impossible: neither the ruler nor his subjects have any reason to commit injustice and there is no need for the threat of punishment. All that is asked for on the part of the citizens is [i] for the philosopher to remain at his post and carry on his duty (officium).

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence  151 5.2.3 The emergence of vice and the rule of law The time when philosopher-kings were in power eventually came to an end. According to Posidonius, ‘vices gradually developed and monarchies turned into tyrannies’ (see infra T5-25). No explanation is provided as to the cause of the emergence of vices. We have seen Seneca mentioning ‘greed’ and the privatization of what was initially common to all (T5-16b), but he does not explain why greed happened in the first place. However, he also mentioned the fact that if the first human beings were better than their modern counterpart, it is because they freshly sprang from the gods and were born from a still young and not yet worn out nature (T5-13). Seneca argues that these particularly fortunate conditions cannot have made the first generations of human beings wise, because philosophy and wisdom require time and effort. Posidonius, however, must have thought otherwise since he defended the view that philosophy was already at work among the first communities. Could it be that he believed that, because the first human beings were closer to nature than us, they also enjoyed superior mental capacities that helped them become wise more quickly and more easily? If that is so, he must probably be counted among those ‘younger Stoics’ mentioned by Sextus Empiricus in the following passage: T5-24 And some of the more recent Stoics say that the first humans, who were born from the earth (γηγενεῖς), were in cleverness far beyond those now (κατὰ πολὺ τῶν νῦν συνέσει διαφέροντας γεγονέναι), as can be learned from a of ourselves with those of earlier times, and that those heroes, whose sharpness of thought (τὴν ὀξύτητα τῆς διανοίας) was like an extra sense-organ, focused on the divine nature and conceived certain properties/powers of the gods (ἐπιβεβληκέναι τῇ θείᾳ φύσει καὶ νοῆσαί τινας δυνάμεις θεῶν). (S.E. M 9.28, trans. Bett, adapted) The account given here fits well with Posidonius’ particular doctrine about the condition of the first human beings and provides us with a coherent explanation as to why philosophy or wisdom was already at work so early in the history of mankind. Directly born from the earth, the first human beings were possessed of a superior type of mind that was like an extra sense-organ. Thanks to it, they focused ‘on the divine nature’, writes Sextus, which makes particular sense given the divine origin of reason advocated by the Stoics in general, and by Posidonius in particular (see T5-1b and T5-4). Focusing on the divine means that the first humans, or at least the best of them, started their quest for wisdom by studying the first part of what is included in the Stoic definition of wisdom (‘the truth about divine and human affairs’, T5-17c). What they learned is ‘certain properties or powers of the gods’, which must have included not only that gods are rational and

152  Chapter 5 intelligent animals (properties learned through the preconception of the gods that all humans naturally develop), but also, through reasoning, that gods are provident rulers who care for mankind. Those men must then have followed up that initial study with another concerned with the second part of the definition of wisdom, the one dealing with human affairs. From the horizontal nature that is characteristic of the relationship between human beings, they understood what the essential principles of politics are: that human beings should seek collaboration with other human beings (rather than their domination) and that all human beings should be treated fairly. If Posidonius endorsed the view that some of the first humans were able, for the reason just stated, to rapidly gain wisdom and become rulers of the first human cities, he must also have thought that, with the passing of time and the fact that humans were no longer directly earth-begotten, the excellence of human nature was bound to decline, as the condition of the present-day men indeed confirms. It is probably the decline of man’s natural intellectual capacities that is initially the cause of the emergence of vices that led to the corruption of the first ideal cities.60 We may suppose that since wisdom became such a hard thing to acquire, following nature became more and more difficult. As a result, there was a general decline of morality among human beings, and the initially good kings eventually turned into tyrants. However, even if philosophy was not able anymore to produce philosopher-kings, it still managed to establish the principle that cities should be governed by the rule of law: T5-25 But as vices gradually developed and monarchies turned into tyrannies, a need arose for laws which themselves were originally proposed by wise people (opus esse legibus coepit, quas et ipsas inter initia tulere sapientes). Solon, who founded Athens on the principle of equal rights (aequo iure), was one of the seven men known for wisdom (inter septem fuit sapientia notos): if Lycurgus had been born in the same age, he would have been counted eighth in the sacred band. The laws of Zaleucus and Charondas win praise; but these men did not learn from public life or from the halls of jurisconsults, but from the chaste and silent retreat of Pythagoras (sed in Pythagorae tacito illo sanctoque secessu) the laws which they laid down for Sicily and the Greek society throughout Italy in their prime. (Sen. Ep. 90.6 = Posidonius F284 E.-K. and 67Y2 L.-S., trans. Fantham, adapted) Despite the change in human nature and the loss of those exceptional intellectual capacities of primeval men, philosophy or wisdom did not cease to exist. It only became, as already said, a much more difficult form of knowledge to acquire that made the sage a really exceptional figure. That is shown here by the mention of the famous ‘seven sages’, among whom one

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence 153 finds the name of Solon and Pythagoras.61 Solon is presented as a statesman who ‘founded Athens on the principle of equal rights’, a clear reference to ἰσονομία (on which see also infra T8-39, with commentary), the principle of ‘equal participation in the exercise of power’62 put in place to prevent ‘one citizen from prevailing over others in the exercise of power’.63 By that, one can see that the introduction of the rule of law was meant as a new way of preserving justice and of protecting the weaker from the tyranny of the stronger.64 Pythagoras, although he was himself a historical political figure, is depicted by Posidonius as a theoretical thinker living in ‘a chaste and silent retreat’. That is, of course, fully coherent with what we have learned about Posidonius’ views on Pythagoras (T5-4), and that is also a confirmation that Posidonius, like his master Panaetius (see T4-15, with commentary), looked at wisdom and theoretical knowledge in general as ultimately political in nature. Indeed, according to him, it is from Pythagoras’ philosophical school that came ‘the laws of Zaleucus and Charondas’, great legislators of Sicilian cities. With that last step in the political history of mankind, one can finally appreciate how beneficial and providential philosophy is for human beings. Seneca, we remember, had distinguished between life, which we owe to the gods, and good life, which we owe to philosophy (T5-17a). We know that human beings are political animals according to the Stoics: reason is what makes them gather together and form cities (T4-13c). But there are no viable or flourishing cities without justice, and it is to philosophy, says Posidonius, that we owe the discovery of the principle of the rule of law: laws are designed to maintain a fair and equal distribution of power or rights (ἰσονομία, aequum ius) among citizens, so that no one can ever have more than one’s fair share. Furthermore, it has the extra advantage over the philosopher-king model of not making the implementation of justice dependent upon the availability of an exceptional individual.

Notes 1 Dorandi 1999: 51. Posidonius, like Panaetius, said that physics should be studied first: see D.L. 7.41= Posidonius F91 E.-K., Panaetius fr. 129 Alesse and 26B4 L.-S. 2 According to Bowen and Todd 2004: 3, the treatise of Cleomedes was composed between 50 B.C. and 250 A.D. The authors defend the view of a strong presence of Posidonius in Cleomedes’ text: ‘Quellenforschung may well be a discredited methodology, but in the present case it allows us to identify Cleomedes’ Caelestia as a remote tribute by a minor Stoic to the ideas of a major predecessor. In fact, without Posidonius, astronomy would probably never have been included in Cleomedes’ program of Stoic teaching’ (p. 17). 3 Galen’s account suggests that Posidonius’ main target here was Chrysippus and that he looked at him as having deviated from the previous generation of Stoics. At one place (Gal. PHP 5.6.33–36 = Posidonius F166 E.-K. and 65I1-3 L.-S.), we learn that Posidonius quoted some verses of Cleanthes as evidence that their author must have accepted the view of a bi-partition of the soul. According to

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Tieleman, however, Posidonius is not targeting previous Stoics here but rather Plato (see Tieleman 2003: 228–230). On T5-1b, see commentary in Gill 2006: 289–290. See Stob. Ecl. 2.75.11–76.8 = SVF 1.179 and 63B1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted. Our main source for Posidonius embracing Plato’s tripartite division of the soul is Galen (in his On the Doctrines of Hippocrates and Plato, books 3–5), a Platonist with an agenda: that of ‘using Posidonius’ deviations from the previous Stoic line in order to turn him into an ally’ (Reydams-Schils 1999: 88). That has made it very difficult to reconstruct Posidonius’ account. See Cooper 1998 (according to which Posidonius accepted, for the most part, Chrysippus’ psychology), Tieleman 2003: 198–287 (defending the view that Posidonius did not significantly depart from Chrysippus) and Reydams-Schils 1999: 100–106 (according to which Posidonius reintroduced the concept of irrational powers of the soul). On Galen’s presentation of Posidonius’ account of emotions, see also Gill 2006: 266–290, and 2010: 195–199. On Posidonius’ doctrine of the soul, see also Veillard 2015: 165–178. It must be emphasized here that Posidonius’ rejection of a thoroughly rational soul (if that was indeed his position) does not make his description of the human telos un-Stoic, for he arrives at the same conclusion as the early Stoics, namely, that the attainment of happiness is a matter of obeying reason. Besides, Chrysippus himself decribed (in D.L. 7.88 = SVF 3.4 and 63C4 L.-S.) the smooth flow of life as ‘always doing everything on the basis of the concordance of each man’s guardian spirit (παρ’ ἑκάστῳ δαίμονος) with the will of the administration of the whole’ (trans. Long and Sedley). As pointed out in Tieleman 2003: 228, the word ‘part’ in not found in T5-1b, and, according to Galen himself (Gal. PHP 6.2.5 = Posidonius F146 E.-K.), ‘Aristotle and Posidonius refuse the terms “forms” and “parts” of soul, and say that they are faculties or capacities or powers of a single substance, with its base in the heart’ (trans. Kidd). Ju 2013: 96–97. Ju 2013: 97–98. Ju refers to Posidonius T62K E.-K. and T102 E.-K. and recalls that, in Diogenes Laertius, the tri-partition of the soul is actually attributed to Pythagoras (D.L. 8.30). ‘Demonstration (ἀπόδειξιν) is an argument inferring by means of what is better perceived something less clearly perceived’ (D.L. 7.45 = SVF 2.235 and FDS 1037, trans. Hicks). See also S.E. PH 2.135, 143, M 8.314, and infra T5-12. On the necessity, according to the Stoa, to proceed through demonstration in order to grasp the existence of god and providence, see Schofield 1980. If such arguments nevertheless fail to be convincing to some, it must be because of some form of internal obstacle on the part of the recipient. We will see (in T5-11 [b]) that the reason why Epicurus did not believe in providence is, according to Posidonius (and Cleomedes), that he held a wrong conception of the telos. See also Chapter 7, section 1. See S.E. M 7.22–23 = SVF 2.44 (quoted in T5). See S.E. M 7.227–260 and Cic. Var. 40–42 = SVF 1.53 and 1.60–61. See Ju 2013: 114–115, n. 61 (with references). One must be aware here that even if Posidonius looked at wisdom or right reason in a Pythagorean way, he still maintained an important distinction between philosophy (logic, physics and ethics), on the one hand, and mathematics and harmonics, on the other hand, saying that the latter are at the service of the former (see Sen. Ep. 88.21–28 = Posidonius F90 E.-K. and 26F L.-S.). At the same time, the way he looked at geometry, for instance, seems to indicate that he took

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it to be syllogistic in nature and, in that sense, virtually a part of logic. See Gal. PHP 4.4.38 = Posidonius T83 E.-K.; Proclus, In Eucl. 214, 15–218, 11 Friedlein = Posidonius F47 E.-K.; see Kidd 1978a: 12 and 1978b: 277 ff. It is beyond doubt that Posidonius intended to strongly associate mathematics and wisdom, even if he refrained from fully incorporating the Pythagorean disciplines into the core of Stoic wisdom. Ju 2013: 114 proposes a different translation – ‘the nature of the wholes’ – meaning by that ‘the realm of mathematical beings, which are not just for him [Posidonius] but also for Pythagoras and Plato a real and objective part of the world’s make-up’. Cleom. 1.1.98–99 = SVF 2.540, trans. Bowen and Todd, adapted: ἕξιν γὰρ ἔχει τὴν συνέχουσαν αὐτὴν καὶ συντηροῦσαν. S.E. M 9.78–79 = SVF 2.1013. The passage is part of a Stoic demonstration that the world is a god, probably inspired by Posidonius, given the examples of tides it uses. See Stob. Ecl. 1.253.1–3 = Posidonius F138 E.-K., and Cic. Div. 2.34 = Posidonius F106 E.-K. See also Cleom. 2.1.390–392. See Cic. ND 2.37–38 = 54H1 L.-S., where Chrysippus is reported to have held that everything in the world can be seen as a means towards a greater end: plants are created for animals, animals for human beings, human beings for gods. That notion will become a central feature of Epictetus’ thought, as we shall see in Chapter 7, section 1.2. Cleom. 1.2.28. Cleom. 1.8.98. For an analysis of the teleological account defended by Plato in the Phaedo, see Sedley 1989. Sedley shows that the final myth of the Phaedo (108e ff.) is an answer to Socrates’ earlier demand (97d7–98c2) for a teleological explanation of the shape, size and position of the earth, that is, an explanation that would look at the good as their cause (99b-c). Epic. Ep. Men. 123 = 23B1 L.-S. See Cic. ND 1.46 where Velleius is defending the view that one should ascribe a human form to gods. On this, see Kleve 1978. See Gal. PHP 5.5.8 = Posidonius F160 E.-K. For other testimonies about expulsions of Epicureans because of their hedonism, see references in Goulet 1980: 214, n. 277 and Obbink 1989: 204, n. 59. ‘All sensation, he [Epicurus] says, is irrational and does not accommodate memory. For neither is it moved by itself, nor when moved by something else is it able to add or subtract anything’ (D.L. 10.31 = 16B L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley). S.E. M 7.210–211 = 16E5-6 L.-S., and Lucr. 4.379–386 = 16H L.-S. Kidd 1989: 39. Ath. Deip. 4.151E = Posidonius T80 E.-K. For the importance of this testimony, see Kidd 1989. As examples of incapable rulers: King Ptolemy VIII, ‘named Malefactor by the Alexandrians’ and whose very large belly is described in detail in Posidonius F58 E.-K.; Damophilus’ addiction to luxury that eventually led to his downfall, his own slaves turning against him (F59 E.-K.); and Athenion, tyrant of Athens (F253 E.-K.). As illustration of good leadership: Nicias, leader of the Sicilian town of Engyium, who pardoned his fellow-countrymen after they plotted against him (F258 E.-K.). One possibility is that it was exposed in Posidonius’ On Appropriate Actions (mentioned in D.L. 7.124 = Posidonius F40 E.-K. and D.L. 7.129 = Posidonius F39 E.-K.), since that is apparently what Panaetius himself did: in Cicero’s On Appropriate Actions, a treatise based (for the two first books) upon the

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eponymous work of Panaetius (now lost), we find parallel passages (Off. 2.41–42) about the condition of the first human beings and how morally good kings initially were entrusted with power, before kingship was replaced by the rule of law. Zago’s hypothesis (in Zago 2012: Chapter 5) that Seneca’s source is Posidonius’ Protepticus (mentioned in F1-3 E.-K.) is too speculative, since we know almost nothing about the content of that work. In the letter, philosophia and sapientia are treated rather interchangeably. Cic. Fin. 1.29–30 = 21A1-2 L.-S. The most complete account is found in Lucr. 5.925–1160. It is likely that Lucretius’ text is ultimately based on Epicurus himself. Lucr. 5.925–961 = 22J L.-S. Lucr. 5.962–965. Lucr. 5.1011–1027 ( foedera) = 22K L.-S. Lucr. 5.1105–1135 = 22L1-4 L.-S. Lucr. 5.1136–1160 = 22L5-7 L.-S. See Boys-Stones 2001: 18–26. A detailed though often very speculative study of this text is provided in Zago 2012. ‘It was the shrewdness (sagacitas) of human beings, not real wisdom, that discovered all these things’ (Ep. 90.11); they are ‘contrivances (commenta) of the lowest kind of slaves (uilissimorum mancipiorum)’ (Ep. 90; see also Ep. 90.13), trans. Fantham. The discovery of craft is the symptom of ‘luxury rebelling against nature (a natura luxuria desciuit)’ (Ep. 90.19); it fosters immodesty (Ep. 90.21), avarice and the plundering of the earth (Ep. 90.38–40). On Cynic anti-prometheanism, see Moles 1996: 117 and Husson 2019. That view is defended in Protagoras’ myth: Pl. Prot. 320d-323a. See also Cic. De re pub. 3.1 = Aug. Contra Jul. 4.12.60. On the important issue of voluntary obedience, see Chapter 8, section 4.3. On the Stoic conception of freedom, see Collette-Dučić 2019: 428–441. The Stoics defined the telos of the human life as ‘living in agreement with nature (τὸ ὁμολογουμένως τῇ φύσει ζῆν)’ (D.L. 7.87 = SVF 1.552 and 63C1 L.-S.), and by that they meant living an unimpeded life, as shown by Zeno’s definition of happiness as ‘a good flow of life (εὔροια βίου)’ (Stob. Ecl. 2.77.21 = SVF 1.184 and 63A2 L.-S.). We shall return to that idea in the next chapter. Contrary to monarchy, democracy or the rule of the majority is ‘an accountable form of government (ὑπεύθυνον δὲ ἀρχὴν ἔχει), and it refers all decisions to the common people (βουλεύματα δὲ πάντα ἐς τὸ κοινὸν ἀναφέρει)’ (Hdt. 3.80, trans. Waterfield, adapted). On accountability and ancient democracy, see in particular Hoestra 2003: 15–51. On the important question of how a philosopher-king can improve the condition of the people he must govern, see especially Chapter 6, section 3.2, and Chapter 8, section 4.3. I study this question in Collette-Dučić 2017a. One finds a similar idea expressed in Cic. Off. 2.32 (humans are naturally attracted to virtue and therefore to statesmen who have the reputation of being virtuous), which is probably reporting Panaetius’ doctrine. We find here the two components of πρόνοια distinguished in T1-5, namely, prevision and provision. As explained by Miriam Griffin (in Griffin 2013: 150–151), the ruler’s beneficentia often plays a role analogous to divine providence in Seneca’s writings. We shall return to that important topic in our study on Marcus Aurelius. See in particular T8-40 and T8-41.

Posidonius and Cleomedes on providence 157 60 According to Galen, Posidonius significantly diverged from the doctrine of Chrysippus concerning the origin of vice. Chrysippus defended the view that the origin of vice is external to human nature (see supra T3-29 with commentary, as well as T7-21). Posidonius, on the other hand, insisted that the origin of evils was, in part at least, within nature (see infra T8-7 with commentary). On Posidonius’ doctrine, see Kidd 1983 and Veillard 2015: 73–74. On the difference between Chrysippus’ and Posidonius’ accounts, see Bénatouïl 2007: 115–118. 61 That Posidonius believed in the historical existence of true sages is defended in Zago 2012: 119 and 198. 62 Raaflaub 2000: 47. The word ἰσονομία is based on the idea of a fair and equal (ἴσος) sharing (νέμειν: to distribute, to allot). 63 Fouchard 1986: 153. 64 A close parallel is found in Cicero, probably echoing Panaetius’ view: The establishment of laws and the institution of kings had the same cause. For a system of justice that is fair (aequabile) is what has always been sought: otherwise it would not be justice. As long as they secured this from a single just and good man, with that they were content. When it ceased to be so, laws were invented, which always spoke to everyone with one and the same voice. (Off. 2.42, trans. Atkins)

6

Seneca on providence

Although Seneca (1–65 A.D.) wrote a work called On Providence, the longer title of that text – Why Some Misfortunes Happen to Good Men, though Providence Exists – indicates it does not deal with all aspects of providence, only the specific question of theodicy.1 Rather than focusing on this text,2 my aim will be here to present some of Seneca’s main views on providence, their coherence, and how they accord with the views of his predecessors.

1 Providence and the free unfolding of nature Seneca’s account of providence is scattered in many of his texts, and this makes any attempt to recompose it a rather difficult task. A good place to start our enquiry is a passage from his Natural Questions, in which he explains that god has many names, including that of fate, nature and providence.3 By doing so, he is clearly following the lead of Zeno (T1-1), and therefore also of Chrysippus (T2-17), who insisted, against Cleanthes, that everything that happens according to fate also happens according to providence (see Chapters 1 and 2). But the reason why that passage is especially valuable to us is the definition of providence it provides: T6-1 [The Etruscans] recognize the same Jupiter as we do, the ruler and guardian of the universe (rectorem custodemque uniuersi), the mind and breath of the world (animum ac spiritum mundi), the master and the craftsman of this creation (operis huius dominum et artificem), for whom every name will be appropriate. Do you want to call him fate? You will not be mistaken: it is he on whom everything depends, the cause of causes (hic est ex quo suspensa sunt omnia, causa causarum). Do you want to call him providence (Uis illum prouidentiam dicere)? You will be right: it is by his plan that provision is made for this world, so that it can advance unhindered and uncoil its movements (est enim cuius consilio huic mundo prouidetur, ut inoffensus exeat et actus suos explicet). Do you want to call him nature? You will not be wrong: it is he from whom everything is born, by whose breath we live (hic est ex quo nata sunt omnia, cuius spiritu uiuimus). Do you want to call him the world? DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-6

Seneca on providence  159 You are not mistaken: for he himself is all this that you see, contained in his own parts, sustaining both himself and his creation (ipso enim est hoc quod uides totum, partibus suis inditus, et se sustinens et sua). (Sen. NQ 2.45, trans. Hine, adapted) All the names of god that are here given are defined in such a way as to make explicit one particular aspect or dimension of god while at the same time showing the interrelatedness of all of these aspects.4 So, the reason why god can be called ‘fate’ is because, being ruler (rector), master (dominus) or craftsman (artifex) of the universe, he is therefore ‘the cause of causes’, that is, the first cause upon which depends a series of causes. He can be called ‘nature’ because, being the ‘breath’ (spiritus) of the world, he is also therefore the vital breath from which everything is born. He can be called ‘world’ because he is not something external to the world itself but rather its mind (animus) and inner breath, sustaining from the inside the whole universe as well as himself. Finally, he can be called ‘providence’ (prouidentia) because, being the mind, craftsman and guardian (custos) of the world, he has planned (consilio) and made provision (prouidetur) for the world so that it can advance unhindered and unfold its movements. Three basic elements can be extracted from Seneca’s definition of providence. The first two, which we have already met, refer to the two basic meanings of πρόνοια or prouidentia, namely, that of prevision and provision: providence is a matter of taking thought, planning or deliberating (consilium) and of providing in advance, in other words, of making sure that something (here, the world) is well prepared and lacks nothing essential for its development. The combination of these two ideas is found in Balbus’ account (in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, see T1-5), in which providence is presented as consultrix et prouida utilitatum opportunitatumque omnium (‘deliberating and providing of every advantage and opportunity’). Traditionally, what the world is prepared for according to the Stoics is its conservation: that it shall live, if not eternally, at least for a considerably long time, until conflagration (T4-5). Seneca’s definition, on the other hand, draws our attention to something different that has more to do with the way of life of the world than its life as such: god’s providence saw to it that the world advances unhindered (ut inoffensus exeat) and that its movements could freely unroll (actus suos explicet). The idea of the world progressively unrolling itself in an unimpeded way recalls an orthodox Stoic account about universal nature (the nature that is in charge of the world and its parts) that is found in Cicero5 and Plutarch6 (where it is attributed to Chrysippus). Cicero’s account is the most detailed one, and I shall mainly use it here. It is presented as a proof for the existence of god and is based on the following central idea about nature: T6-2 Again, it is undeniable that in every organized disposition of things there must be some ultimate perfection. As in vines or in cattle, we see

160  Chapter 6 that, unless obstructed by some force (nisi quae uis obstitit), nature progresses on a certain path of her own to her goal of full development (uidemus naturam suo quodam itinere ad ultimum peruenire). (Cic. ND 2.35, trans. Rackham, adapted) The Stoics conceived of nature (as well as art) as a sort of organized whole (rerum institutio, σύστημα). As such, nature is a teleologically oriented force that will necessarily follow a certain ordered path and reach its telos or perfection if nothing prevents it. In Cicero’s account, two generic kinds of nature are distinguished: one that is universal and all-encompassing (universal nature) and another that is particular. Four different species are distributed among these two kinds: plants (endowed with capacities for nurture and growth), animals (endowed with those of sense-perception and impulse) and human beings (endowed with that of reason) make up the kind of the particular natures, while god (endowed with right reason) is reserved to universal nature. The main difference between the two kinds of nature (particular and universal) is explained as follows: T6-3 As a matter of fact, the other natures may encounter many external obstacles to hinder their perfect realization, but there can be nothing that can frustrate nature as a whole, since she embraces and contains within herself all natures. Hence it follows that there must exist this fourth and highest level, unassailable by any external force (quo nulla uis possit accedere). (Cic. ND 2.35, trans. Rackham, adapted) The universal nature is the only one that is never hindered by any external obstacle: being universal, it encompasses any other possible natures, leaving nothing outside its realm. The reason why we must posit the existence of such a universal nature is not completely clear from the text. My understanding is that the Stoics looked at the nature of plants, animals, human beings and gods as levels of perfection of one single broader nature, a nature that would never be able to achieve its perfection if its higher level (that of right reason), with which she somewhat coincides, was not universal and encompassing, since it is only on that condition that nature can safely and freely unfold and reach its telos. Once the existence of the universal nature is secured, it is shown that universal nature belongs with the world: T6-4 Now this [fourth grade] is the grade on which universal nature stands; and since she is of such a character as to be superior to all things and incapable of being hindered by any, it follows of necessity that the world is an intelligent being, and indeed also a wise being. (Cic. ND 2.36, trans, Rackham, adapted)

Seneca on providence  161 Although that is not completely spelled out in the text, one must assume that the link between the universal nature and the world is made on account of their shared universality: the world encompasses everything and is thus perfectly suited for the universal nature (and vice versa). In consequence, one must declare the world to be intelligent and wise, that is, a god. Let us now return to Seneca’s definition of providence in T6-1. Providence is god’s planned provision with regard to the world, with the aim in view that the world shall advance and unroll unhindered. Based on what we have just seen, he must mean that providence is ultimately responsible for the perfection of the world since it is god’s providence that has endowed the world with universal nature, which is the only sort of nature that is not liable to be impeded in its unfolding. The reason the world is an intelligent and wise living being is therefore the result of god’s deliberation (consilium): like the craftsman of Plato’s Timaeus, god has endowed the world with right reason, which corresponds to the highest level of perfection in the scale of nature. However, contrary to what is depicted in the myth of Plato’s Timaeus, right reason or wisdom is not literally a product of god’s craftsmanship,7 but is identical to god himself, who is working the unfolding of the world from within. As often in the Stoa, the image of god as a craftsman must give place to a more biological explanation of the origin of the world, that of a natural being whose development follows upon seminal reasons (on which, see Chapter 2, section 5). We shall soon see that it is also Seneca’s preferred approach, and that it is on its basis that he developed the idea of human scientific progress through time (see infra T6-9). Actually, his choice of words in T6-1 (actus suos explicet) may be taken as an echo of the uncoiling of a rope (rudentis explicatio), an image used by the Stoics to describe time (see T1-14). The passing of time, according to that image, does not reveal anything new; its progress only serves to uncoil what is there from the outset but can only see the light at a certain point in time.

2 Wisdom and the unfolding of human nature 2.1 The imperfection of human reason We have seen that every kind of nature, be it that of plants, animals or human beings, is to be understood, for the Stoics, as a gift from god. In the scala naturae, humans stand at a very particular place: although they were not born with right reason or wisdom, they nevertheless possess reason, but one that is comparatively less perfect than god’s. Now, in what sense exactly is it imperfect? T6-5 Nature made us teachable and gave us an imperfect reason (Dociles natura nos edidit et rationem dedit imperfectam), but one which could be perfected (sed quae perfici posset). (Sen. Ep. 49.11, trans. Fantham)

162  Chapter 6 Human reason is imperfect not in the sense that it is in principle limited (to a certain realm of objects or truths for instance), but in that it corresponds, in the ladder of nature, to a grade that is imperfect and yet perfectible. Human beings have not simply been granted with an imperfect form of reason, but with the capacity to learn (docilis). Of all the particular natures that exist, the human nature is the only one capable of transcending itself and becoming equal to god.8 In some passages, however, Seneca may give the impression that the gap between human beings and god is insurmountable.9 Here is what he says about our knowledge of comets: T6-6 These are the views concerning comets that have excited other people or me: whether they are true, the gods know, for they possess knowledge of the truth. We are only permitted to grope around for it and to advance into the darkness by means of conjecture, with no confidence of discovering something, though not without hope (nec cum fiducia inueniendi nec sine spe). (Sen. NQ 7.29.3, trans. Hine) At first sight, Seneca seems to distinguish quite sharply between divine and human knowledge of the world, reserving truth and its grasp to god alone, while confining humans to conjectures. But the end of the passage makes it clear that, here also, our capacity for grasping the truth, even in such an obscure domain as that of comets, is not hopeless. In fact, the final balance between nec cum fiducia and nec sine spe corresponds precisely to the idea that human reason is imperfect (so we must not be overconfident about our capacity for discovering truths), and yet perfectible (so we must not lose hope). Far from being an admission of helplessness, the prudent advice of not being too confident is rather the expression of what the Stoics named dialectical virtues, those that the proficiens (the one who is making progress towards wisdom) must master if he or she wants to grasp the truth and not be deceived by what is false or uncertain.10 Two of them are here worth recalling: T6-7 Non-precipitancy is the science of when one should and should not assent (τήν τ’ ἀπροπτωσίαν ἐπιστήμην τοῦ πότε δεῖ συγκατατίθεσθαι καὶ μή). Uncarelessness is a strong rational principle with respect to the plausible, so as not to give in to it (τὴν δ’ ἀνεικαιότητα ἰσχυρὸν λόγον πρὸς τὸ εἰκός, ὥστε μὴ ἐνδιδόναι αὐτῷ). (D.L. 7.46 = SVF 2.130 and 31B L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) Both virtues are about the faculty of assent and how it must be trained: one should not rush to conclusion and one should be vigilant and careful, especially with respect to the plausible (τὸ εἰκός). In a matter like cosmology, that

Seneca on providence  163 is notoriously obscure but at the same time necessary for the attainment of happiness (see T5-1a), human beings must progress through ‘conjectures’, being careful not to confuse them with truths. That is not to say that the truth in this domain is out of reach. It only means that, contrary to god who has immediate knowledge of everything, our knowledge is to be learned and its eventual acquisition, according to Seneca, shall take place through many generations of people: T6-8 There will come a day when the passage of time and the efforts of a longer stretch of human history will bring to light things that are now obscure. One lifetime, even if it can be wholly devoted to astronomy, is not sufficient for the investigation of such important matters. And just think of how we divide our tiny number of years unequally between our studies and our vices. So it will take a long succession of people to explain these matters. (Sen. NQ 7.25.4, trans. Hine; cf. Ot. 5.7) In the previous chapter, we have seen that Seneca disagreed with Posidonius with regard to the condition of the first human beings; whereas Posidonius viewed the primitive state of mankind as a Golden Age where human beings were endowed with extraordinary mental capacities (T5-24), making knowledge of the cosmos and the attainment of philosophy a much easier task, Seneca insisted that knowledge, although not out of human reach, is a task that goes beyond the capacity of a single generation. In another work, we learn that the progressive discovery of arts by human beings is seen by Seneca as the result of the unfolding of human nature through time and learning: T6-9 For you cannot say that the things we have discovered are our doing any more than the fact that we grow, or the fact that the body’s processes respond to the fixed stages of life: at one stage comes the loss of milk teeth; at another, now as we advance in years and grow in vigour, comes the onset of puberty; and then comes the last wisdom tooth that marks the end of our youthful development. Implanted in us are the seeds of all ages, and of all arts (Insita sunt nobis omnium aetatum, omniumque artium semina): and it is god who, as our teacher, draws forth from hidden depths our talents (magister que ex occulto Deus producit ingenia). ‘It is nature,’ someone objects, ‘that provides these things for me.’ Do you not grasp that when you say this, you are merely giving god a different name? (Sen. Ben. 4.6.5–6, trans. Griffin and Inwood, adapted) Seneca applies to the discovery of arts by human beings the naturalistic model of seminal reasons according to which every stage of development of a given sort of nature is predetermined by the reason active in its seed. As in

164  Chapter 6 the case of human teeth, where wisdom teeth cannot appear before the loss of milk teeth and the passage from adolescence to adulthood, the discovery of arts only reflects a certain stage in the development of mankind. Exactly as in the image of the rope which Seneca alluded to in his definition of providence (T6-1), arts is not man’s invention, but rather his discovery: it has always been there, in human nature, in the form of implanted (insita) talents (engenia) that are fated to come to light at a certain point in the course of the uncoiling of human nature. We have seen that, according to Seneca, providence is, generally speaking, what makes provision for a given nature to unfold itself without being impeded. Human nature, contrary to god’s nature, is liable to be hindered. From our text, we gather that the major, if only, impediment for it with respect to reaching its end is ignorance. That may help explain why, in our passage, god’s role is presented not simply as responsible for the particular nature that humans have (one whose unfolding is determined by a seminal reason), but as responsible for human nature to unfold unimpeded through learning: god is man’s teacher, and it is by following the guidance of nature (one of the many names of god) that human nature shall eventually reach its perfection. 2.2 Human impulse towards knowledge If the discovery of arts and, more generally, all intellectual human achievements is fated, and their ordered production planned by a providential god who made sure that human nature eventually achieves its end, then one might think that human beings themselves do not play any role and that we are mistaken in attributing responsibility to them for those things. But that is not the position of the Stoics. They insist that even if everything that happens is fated, actions by human beings are necessary. Against the so-called ‘Lazy Argument’, according to which if everything is fated, then nothing is left to human agency and everything shall happen regardless of our decisions and actions, the Stoics held that fate determines not only the outcome of something (that I shall be cured) but the necessary condition of that outcome (that I shall go and see a doctor in the first place). The necessary condition in which human agency is at work is ‘co-fated’.11 So, if it is fated that arts shall eventually be discovered by human beings through learning, it is also co-fated that human beings shall have a natural impulse towards knowledge, for it is not possible for them to learn anything, even if it is god himself that is their teacher, if they do not want to learn. Human agency is therefore required if human beings are to achieve their telos. But human agency should not be seen as a competing force, separate and opposed to fate, for fate is itself a series of causes in which human nature is included.12 That is why Seneca, in a passage that recalls Panaetius’ views about human rational impulses (T4-14) and wisdom (T4-15), is presenting the thirst for knowledge and truth as an impulse that is at the core of the human nature:

Seneca on providence  165 T6-10 We commonly say that the greatest good is to live in accordance with nature (secundum naturam uiuere). Nature has created us for both purposes—for contemplation and for action (natura nos ad utrumque genuit, et contemplationi rerum et actioni). Let me now prove the first statement. Yet why say more? Won’t it be proved if each of us asks himself how much he craves knowledge of the unknown (quantam cupidinem habeat ignota noscendi), and how excited he gets at every new report he hears? Some sail the seas and endure the hardships of the furthest voyaging for the sole reward of discovering something hidden and distant (cognoscendi aliquid abditum remotumque). This is what causes people to crowd together (contrahit) for public spectacles, this is what makes them pry into things that are closed off, to inquire into the more abstruse, to uncover the past, and to hear about the ways of foreign nations. (Sen. Ot. 5.1–2, trans. Williams) That the human telos implies both contemplation and action is at the heart of the Stoic definition of wisdom (see supra T4-16 and T4-17), which Seneca obviously fully endorses. From the start, the Stoics insisted that divine matters (cosmology) should be counted as one of the core components of wisdom, contrary to a rival interpretation of Socratism13 according to which Socrates viewed physics either as beyond man’s reach or simply as something of no utility with respect to human happiness. We have seen evidence in Chapters 4 and 5 that Panaetius and his pupil Posidonius were strong advocates of the study of divine matters, and that the reason for that was that they looked at contemplation as a sort of knowledge that is, in essence, political and practical. They thought that there is a strong connection between contemplation and action, a point that Seneca, in his essay On Leisure, is very keen to demonstrate, as we shall see in a moment. But the connection is already acknowledged in our passage since there Seneca explains that the craving for knowledge, especially knowledge of what is distant and therefore also obscure, is what makes human beings ‘crowd together for public spectacles’. These public gatherings make it clear that knowledge of things distant and obscure is indeed of great interest to human beings and that it has direct practical effects on them. 2.3 Providence and the human telos In the passage that follows immediately T6-10, Seneca goes a step further and explains the teleological purpose of the inquisitive (curiosus) nature of human beings: T6-11 [a] Nature granted us an inquisitive disposition (Curiosum nobis natura ingenium dedit). Aware of its own skill and its beauty, she gave us life to be spectators (spectatores) of her great spectacle, since she would be sure to lose the fruits of her labour (perditura fructum sui) if

166  Chapter 6 she displayed its works, so vast, so distinct, so finely contrived, so bright and so beautiful in more ways than one, to an empty solitude. [b] For you to understand that she wanted to be contemplated (spectari) and not simply be seen (aspici), consider the place to which she assigned us: [b1] she positioned us at the center of her creation, and gave us a commanding view of the universe. [b2] She not only caused man to stand erect, but in order to equip him for contemplation (sed etiam habilem contemplationis factura), so that he could follow the stars as they glide from their rising toward their setting and could turn his gaze with the turning universe, she also set his head atop his body and placed it on a pliant neck. [b3] Moreover, by causing six constellations to rise by day and six by night, she revealed to view every single part of herself, so that through the wonders that she had presented to our eyes she aroused keen interest in the others as well. (Sen. Ot. 5.3–4, trans. Williams, adapted) The depiction of god [a] as a craftsman who decided to create the human race for his own sake (so that the beauty of his work could not be ignored) may strike us as blatantly selfish. Not for the Stoics, though, as we shall see later in Chapter 10. They explain that while it is true that what every animal does it does mainly for its own sake (T10-5 and T10-10), for a given action to be really advantageous to its agent, it must also benefit others (T10-11). So, there is nothing wrong with god (an animal) ultimately doing everything he does primarily for his own sake, but he cannot take advantage of what he does unless that is also useful to others.14 In this case, it is not possible for god to enjoy the fruits of his labour (the generation of the world-order) unless human beings can also achieve their telos, which implies contemplating the world and worshipping its maker (see also infra T7-4). The main point Seneca makes in this text [b] concerns the way human beings can achieve their telos and how nature (that is, god) somehow teaches it to them. There are obvious signs that human nature was born to contemplate the cosmos. First, the fact that the human dwelling is the earth itself [b1], which is located at the very centre of the cosmos, shows that nature wanted us to have a commanding view of the universe. Then [b2] comes the standing position of man and the characteristics of his head (set atop his body and placed on a pliant neck). Now all this would perfectly suit the idea that nature has devised that human sight should be the best way to observe the cosmos, but this is precisely not the conclusion Seneca wants us to draw. For, like Panaetius (T4-13b) and Posidonius before him (T5-2 and T5-12), he is adamant that sight (or sense-perception in general) is not the proper means by which human beings should try to understand the universe.15 Sight is only useful as a first step [b3]: by making the visible accessible to us, it arouses our interest into the non-visible and helps human beings understand that the real criterion of truth, with regard to the world, is reason:

Seneca on providence  167 T6-12 For we cannot view all of them, or their real dimensions, but our vision opens a path of investigation for itself and lays a basis for the truth (sed acies nostra aperit sibi inuestigandi uiam et fundamenta uero iacit), allowing our research to progress from the obvious to the hidden and to discover things more ancient than the world itself: What was the origin of these constellations? What was the physical condition of the universe before the distinct elements began to separate to form its parts? What principle separated them out when they were plunged into darkness and confusion? Who assigned places to things? Was it by their own nature that heavy things sank downward and light ones flew up; or, quite apart from their thrust and weight, did some higher force lay down the law for individual bodies? Or is there truth to the argument that strives especially to prove that mankind is a part of the divine breath—that some portion, sparks, as it were, of the stars leaped down to the earth and clung to a place not their own? Our thought breaks through the ramparts of the sky, not content to know only that which appears to the eye (Cogitatio nostra caeli munimenta perrumpit nec contenta est id quod ostenditur scire). (Sen. Ot. 5.5–6, trans. Williams, adapted) Seneca’s account of the criterion of truth is here apparently slightly different from Cleomedes’ and, possibly, Posidonius’ account. Although he clearly stresses that sight cannot grasp all constellations or their real dimensions and that only reason or thought (cogitatio) can ‘break through the ramparts of the sky’, he also acknowledges that sense-perception should not be seen as something completely alien to reason, since it ‘lays a basis for the truth’. We have noticed that, in Cleomedes, reason takes the form of syllogistic argumentation that seems rather independent from sense-perception. For instance, in T5-12, he explains that the sphericity of the universe can be inferred from the demonstration of the sphericity of the earth, something that sense-perception cannot grasp. At the same time, we have also noticed how Cleomedes’ strong warning about the risks of using sight as a measure of truth is directly linked to his anti-Epicureanism, so we should be careful not to infer from his particular stance a view valid for Stoics in general. In fact, the Stoics developed different definitions of reason,16 one as an ability to infer and draw logical consequences,17 and another as a collection of preconceptions that are themselves the results of sense-perceptions.18 We should not look at these definitions as rival views on reason,19 but rather as ways of underlining at least two different aspects of reason: the sorts of operations it does and the importance of concepts. Also, and this is particularly relevant for understanding Seneca, the second definition is one that looks at reason from a genetic point of view, explaining the formation of reason as the final result of a development that takes its starting point in sense-perception. We have seen that Seneca himself tends to look at human

168  Chapter 6 intellectual achievement from a genetic point of view, saying that wisdom is a late development in the life of mankind. Exactly as in the example of wisdom teeth not appearing before milk teeth (T6-9), human knowledge of the cosmos, which requires reason, could not be achieved before senseperception and sight laid the basis for truth. His emphasis on the continuity between sense-perception and thought or reason fits well such a genetic view: there is a certain fated order in the history of human wisdom that requires sense-perception as a necessary first step for wisdom to eventually come to light.

3 The practical and political dimension of contemplation 3.1 The ideal of an unimpeded life: death and the easy way out Even if the human beings were not endowed at birth with a nature that knows no obstacle and always unfolds freely (i.e. god’s nature or right reason), we have seen that they were provided with a nature that can be perfected and eventually reach its telos. Now, from the teleological and providential scheme of things that Seneca describes in T6-11, we understand that it is of paramount importance for god that humans actually achieve their telos: god would have worked in vain if there were no spectator and admirer of his work, and of all the particular living natures that are parts of the world, human beings are the only ones that can become, through the study of nature, god’s worshippers. We must therefore assume that divine providence did act with respect to human beings in a manner that is similar to the whole world: god gave humans a nature that can learn how to avoid any obstacles that may stand in their way. There are many points of doctrine in the Stoa that show that the Stoics were particularly attentive to identifying possible obstacles to human happiness and working out ways to avoid them. One particularly telling example is the usefulness of death or suicide, about which Seneca has the following to say at the end of his essay On Providence: T6-13 Above all I [god] have taken care that no one may detain you against your will; the way out lies open (patet exitus): if you do not wish to fight, you may run away (licet fugere). That is why, out of all the things I judged necessary for you, I have made nothing easier than dying. I placed life on a downward slope: if it is prolonged, only observe and you will see how short, how easy is the path that leads to freedom (ad libertatem). I have not made your departure from life as lingering and tedious as your entrance; otherwise, if deaths of human beings were as protracted as their births, Fortune would have maintained her great dominion over you (magnum in uos regnum fortuna tenuisset). (Sen. Prov. 6.7, trans. Davie, adapted)

Seneca on providence  169 The Stoics, including Seneca, regularly insist that life, in itself, is neither good nor bad20; only the way we live it is. If circumstances (cf. fortuna) are so adverse that it is not possible for us to maintain a morally good way of life, we can always use death as a way to secure our freedom (cf. ad libertatem).21 Seneca’s mention of freedom, in our passage, is no accident. The Stoics conceived of freedom as freedom from hindrances,22 and Zeno defined the happy life of the sage as one that ‘flows smoothly’,23 that is, one that is continuous and never hindered by any possible obstacles.24 Even in the worst possible circumstances, there is a way out, a way for human nature to avoid being impeded in its flow, and god has seen to it by making the natural process of dying very easy indeed: ‘death is close to hand (in proximo mors est)’, writes Seneca, and dying can be achieved anytime and anywhere, if need be.25 3.2 The political life and its potential obstacles The way Zeno defined happiness and the providential usefulness Seneca found in the easiness of dying make it clear that the Stoics looked at human nature as the product of divine providence: although different from the perfect nature of the cosmos, which never encounters any obstacle threatening its unfolding, the nature that human beings have been endowed with is one that can learn26 how to avoid being hindered by the many obstacles that it is bound to encounter.27 That is something important to bear in mind when we look at the Stoic account of human nature, one that does not simply require contemplation, but action too: T6-14 So I live according to nature (secundum naturam) if I’ve devoted myself entirely to it, if I am its admirer and its worshipper (si illius admirator cultorque sum). But nature wished me to do both—to be active and to be free for contemplation (et agere et contemplationi uacare). And I am doing both, since in fact there is no contemplation without action (utrumque facio, quoniam ne contemplatio quidem sine actione est). (Sen. Ot. 5.8, trans. Williams, adapted) Two questions arise naturally from the reading of this passage: in what sense does contemplation entail action and what does Seneca mean here by action? Let us start with the latter as its clarification will help answer the first question. We have seen (T4-15) that Panaetius held wisdom (knowledge of things human and divine) as being political in nature since it makes human beings aware of the political and providential system that is the world (a community of gods and human beings where gods are rulers and humans their subjects). He therefore took contemplation as something that is in fact inseparable from action, saying that ‘the knowledge and contemplation of nature would somehow be lame and defective, were no practical

170  Chapter 6 results to follow’. Finally, by action, he meant especially political action (the safe-guarding of human interests). It is clear enough that Seneca, in his On Leisure, agrees closely with Panaetius on all these points. Not only does he say that there is no contemplation without action, but he also stresses the imperfection of contemplation when it is separated from action, writing that ‘virtue that is wasted on leisure without action, never showing what it has learned, is an incomplete and idle good (inperfectum ac languidum bonum)’.28 Besides, as we shall see shortly, it is clear from the rest of his text that what he means by action is essentially politics.29 Now, given that Seneca was ‘a philosopher in politics’, to quote from the title of the classic study of Miriam T. Griffin,30 we might think that he had no problem advocating a life of action as the ultimate goal of contemplation. In his On Leisure, however, he is defending contemplation and otium and claims that by doing so he is faithful to the teaching of the early Stoics. In particular, he states that Stoicism allows one to choose to withdraw from action into otium (studious leisure) at two different times in life: either ‘from the earliest age, someone can devote himself completely to the contemplation of truth’, or ‘when someone has already completed his official service and his life is far advanced, he can do this same thing with perfect right’,31 instead of having to maintain his political activities until his death. To his addressee (generally assumed to be Serenus),32 who claims that Seneca has deserted his side (Stoicism) and embraced the precepts of Epicurus,33 he replies that what really distinguishes the Stoics from the Epicureans is not that the former take an active part in politics whereas the latter do not, rather that both schools engage in otium, though not for the same reasons: T6-15 [a] The two schools, Epicurean and Stoic, very strenuously disagree on this question as on others, but in fact each directs us to leisure, but by different routes. Epicurus says: ‘The sage will not participate in public life unless in exceptional circumstances (non accedet ad rem publicam sapiens, nisi si quid interuenerit)’.34 Zeno says: ‘He will participate in public life unless something prevents him (accedet ad rem publicam, nisi si quid inpedierit)’. The former aims for leisure on principle (ex proposito), the latter only on special grounds (ex causa); but these grounds are wide ranging (causa autem illa late patet). [b] If the state is too diseased (corruptior) to be helped, if it is seized by illness, the sage will not struggle unnecessarily and expend himself to no beneficial purpose. If he has insufficient influence or power, or the state is not ready to accept him, if ill health prevents him, [c] just as he wouldn’t launch a battered ship on the sea or enlist for military service if he were a cripple, he will not embark on a path that he knows is impassable (sic ad iter quod inhabile sciet non accedet) (Sen. Ot. 3.2–3 = SVF 1.271, trans. Williams, adapted)

Seneca on providence  171 Whereas Epicureans are persuaded not to engage in politics, save in exceptional circumstances,35 Stoics are meant to take part in politics ‘unless something prevents (nisi si quid inpedierit)’ them [a]. In other words, although the Stoic sage should first and foremost aim for action through political involvement, there might be obstacles strong enough to make such a pursuit ill-advised and the sage should therefore renounce it. Seneca claims that the causae or acceptable reasons not to engage in politics are ‘wide ranging’ (late). He lists four of them [b], and although the first one (the moral illness of the state) will later prove very important for his argumentation, it seems that, at this point, all that matters is to point to the many reasons a philosopher could easily come up with for choosing not to embark on the life of a professional statesman. All these reasons (living in a corrupted state, having no sufficient power, not being accepted by the state, being ill), it must be stressed, are circumstantial and have nothing to do with the will or eagerness of the sage to enter politics. In other words, even though the sage is actually initially willing to enter politics, circumstances outside his control may prevent him from fulfilling his desire. As we have seen in T6-13, divine providence has made sure that human beings shall not be under the dominion of circumstances or external obstacles ( fortuna) and that, through learning, they shall become aware in advance of potential future hindrances and adapt their decisions and actions accordingly. That idea is clearly at work in our passage [c]: if the sage knows (sciet) that a given route (iter) is impassable (inhabile), he will avoid following it and choose another one instead.36 There seems, however, to be an issue here: if nature requires human beings not only to be free for contemplation, but also to be active (T6-14), and if being active means participating in public service, something that external impediments can make impossible, then is there not a risk that some human beings will just never be able to fulfil the demands of their nature? The solution to this apparent difficulty is given in the following passage, in which it is shown that ‘engagement in public service’ can be achieved by various means, not simply through a political career: T6-16 To be sure, it is required of a human being to be of benefit to human beings (ab homine exigitur, ut prosit hominibus)—to many if possible, but if not, then to a few; if not to a few, then to those nearest to us; if not to those nearest, then to oneself. For when someone makes himself useful to others, he engages in public service (Nam cum se utilem ceteris efficit, commune agit negotium). Just as a person who is responsible for his own moral deterioration harms not just himself but all those whom he could have benefited had he improved himself, so whoever serves himself well benefits others by the very fact that he provides what will be helpful to them. (Sen. Ot. 3.5, trans. Williams, adapted)

172  Chapter 6 Human nature requires people to engage in public service, that is, ‘to be useful to other human beings’. There are multiple ways to fulfil that demand, either direct or indirect. The obvious and direct way is to become a professional politician and serve the many. But there are obstacles to a political career, and it may therefore be preferable, in certain circumstances, to direct our usefulness either towards fewer other people, our family members for instance, or even simply to oneself. What matters, ultimately, is the frame of mind (animus)37 in which we are doing what we are doing, for it is not the same, for instance, to care about oneself egoistically or to care about oneself with the aim of being useful to others. So far, although there are many possible impediments to a life in politics, such a life is still considered as a serious option for the sage. Later in the text of On Leisure, this dramatically changes, with Seneca claiming that, since all actual political regimes are corrupted, otium ‘turns out to be the inescapable option for all (incipit omnibus esse otium necessarium)’38: T6-17 Our school refuses to accept that the sage will embark upon public life in just any political regime (Negant nostri sapientem ad quamlibet rem publicam accessurum). But what difference does it make how the sage arrives at leisure – whether [a] because public service isn’t available to him, or [b] because he’s not available to public service – if no political regime is going to exist for anyone? And in fact, no political regime will ever be available to those who search for it with a discriminating eye (Semper autem deerit fastidiose quaerentibus). (Sen. Ot. 8.1, trans. Williams, adapted) Seneca claims that to philosophers, those who search with a discriminating eye ( fastidiose)39 for an acceptable political regime in which to engage, the obvious conclusion of their search will be that there are none. Therefore, Zeno’s doctrine that ‘the sage will participate in public life unless something prevents him’ should be ultimately understood as a call for otium and contemplation. 3.3 Stoic will versus Platonic reluctance to engage in politics Is Seneca’s paradoxical conclusion fair to the spirit of the early Stoics’ doctrine? To answer this question, we need to dig deeper into that doctrine itself, by asking the following questions: What kind of impediments did they admit, and what was their view on cities and political regimes? From what Seneca reports, we learn that the early Stoics distinguished not one but two kinds of obstacles preventing the sage from entering into the service of the state: either [a] the res publica is ‘not available to him’, or [b] the sage himself is ‘not available to the res publica’.40 It is worth noting that the idea that the sage or philosopher may be prevented from ruling the city

Seneca on providence  173 either because the city (or its citizens) does not want him to be its ruler [a] or because he does not want to rule the city [b] is one that is carefully developed by Plato in his Republic, and we have evidence that the Stoics engaged with him on these issues. One of Plato’s most notable doctrines concerning political engagement is that the philosopher does not voluntarily seek political power and would rather stay away from politics and keep on contemplating eternal truths.41 Such involuntariness, however, happens to be a good thing, according to Plato, for those who are eager to rule and compete for political power are generally driven by self-interest. Therefore, the philosopher’s reluctance to govern should be taken as assurance that he will only look after the interests of the city and its citizens.42 It is interesting to note that, in Plato’s doctrine, one major impediment to political involvement comes from the philosopher himself (which corresponds to [b]), who simply does not want to rule and will have to be forced (by a compelling argument)43 to govern the city. It appears that the Stoics challenged Plato for holding that view. Cicero, in a passage of his On Appropriate Actions that most likely echoes Panaetius’ views,44 argues that political engagement is ‘something done more fairly when done voluntarily; for something that is done rightly is only just if it is voluntary’.45 Panaetius’ argument, if it is his, is interesting since it gives us a clue as to why Zeno insisted that ‘the sage will participate in public life’ (accedet ad rem publicam). The verb accedo, used by Seneca, can sometimes mean ‘to give assent to’, ‘to approve of’, so much so that accedere ad rem publicam does not probably simply mean here ‘to participate in public life’ but also to do so ‘wilfully’. Besides the fact that no right action can be done involuntarily, Panaetius explains that by not wilfully engaging into politics, the philosopher is actually doing an injustice: ‘hindered by their devotion to learning, [philosophers] abandon those whom they ought to protect’.46 Contrary to Plato’s philosopher, the Stoic sage is not internally hindered, since he has, as required by his human nature, a natural will to engage in politics. Now not only must Plato’s philosopher be forced to govern, but one must also persuade the city and its citizens that philosophers should be put in charge of the city, something that is clearly not an easy task, according to Plato himself, since philosophers are usually seen by other citizens as completely useless. This corresponds to the other kind of obstacle distinguished above [a], the one that holds that the res publica may not be available to the sage. In the Republic, the reason why philosophers have such a poor reputation is that they do not engage in day-to-day politics and that contemplation – their regular occupation – appears, to the ignorant eyes of the many, something completely useless with regard to city management.47 Although Socrates, in the Republic, says that ‘it is not impossible’ that one might convince a city of the worth of philosophy and philosophers, he also agrees that it is a very difficult task indeed.48 As for the Stoics, they developed what seems, at first sight, the exact opposite doctrine. As we have seen in the previous chapter, they hold that human beings are naturally attracted

174  Chapter 6 to virtue and knowledge and will therefore voluntarily submit themselves to virtuous leaders. According to Posidonius, that is the reason why, in the Golden Age of humanity, kings were philosophers: people naturally understood the benefit there is of being governed by a wise ruler, and a philosopher-king ‘could make no worse threats to those who disobeyed than that of resigning from his kingship’ (T5-23 [i]). So, although the Stoics recognized the same two kinds of impediments as Plato with respect to the political engagement of the sage or philosopher, they objected to the particular reasons Plato gave in the Republic. Not only will the sage voluntarily seek political office, but the non-wise citizens will also in general voluntarily submit to him, naturally attracted as they are to virtue. Now, the problem with this blissful picture is that it leaves no room, apparently, for any kind of impediments and does therefore enter into contradiction with Zeno’s doctrine, since Zeno did allow for the possibility of impediments. There is a way, however, to reconcile them. For that, it is important to bear in mind that Posidonius’ philosopher-king is one that rose to power during a unique time, when humans were still very close to nature and possessed with superior intellectual natural faculties (T5-24). During that time, it was not difficult for people to acknowledge the worth of a wise political leader. But that time has now long passed, and the nature of human beings has since then gradually weakened. Although human natural tendencies towards knowledge and virtues are still present and active, the intellectual capacities of human beings have declined, and this explains not only the fact that the sage has become very rare, but also that when philosophers are present in a city, the city itself can still fail to recognize their political worth. The case of Socrates, which Seneca explicitly mentions in his On Leisure, is a very good illustration of the kind of predicament a philosopher finds himself in: T6-18 I ask you, to what political regime is the sage going to attach himself? To that of the Athenians, where Socrates was condemned to death, and which Aristotle fled to avoid being condemned there? Where the virtues are oppressed by envy? You cannot tell me that the sage will attach himself to this political regime. (Sen. Ot. 8.2, trans. Williams) According to Plato, Socrates was prevented by his personal δαιμόνιον to enter politics,49 something Socrates interpreted as meaning that politics was too risky a business and that he would be of better use to his fellow citizens alive than dead. That is why he joined the side of philosophy instead. Philosophy, however, is itself clearly a political activity for Plato’s Socrates. In the Apology (31 c), he describes himself as πολυπράγμων (active and minding other people’s business), which is how professional politicians are usually described, and in the Gorgias he does not hesitate to present himself as the

Seneca on providence  175 50

only true statesman. We have seen that the Stoics fully endorsed such a presentation of the relationship between philosophy and politics, in which the philosopher is willing to enter into the service of the city51 but is prevented from doing it by the political regime he finds himself in and has to choose an alternative path in order to remain useful to other human beings. Although in Seneca’s passage it is the sage who is presented as being unavailable to the res publica and not the other way around, it is clear that the reason for that lies not in a general unwillingness on the part of the sage to enter into the service of the state, but in the unavailability of the res publica herself, which is unwilling to let philosophers in and even threatens their safety. In that sense, and contrary to what is the case in Plato’s Republic, there is not much difference between the two kinds of impediments which the Stoics acknowledged. That is why Seneca is not wrong when he says, in T6-17, that it does not really matter ‘how the sage arrives at otium’, whether because the state prevents him from entering politics or because he prefers to flee a corrupted and dangerous state. And this, in turns, helps understand Seneca’s rather dramatic conclusion that otium ‘turns out to be the inescapable option for all’.52 For if the real and only kind of impediment is external53 and lies in the morally corrupted state of the particular political regime a philosopher finds himself in, and if a case can be made that there is just no political regime that would be acceptable to the discriminating eye of the philosopher, then it is understandable that the only viable option left for a philosopher is simply to turn to otium and contemplation. So, did the early Stoics believe that no actual state would be acceptable to the sage? Yes, they did,54 and in that, they agreed, for once, with Plato who, in the Republic, states that ‘there is no present-day political regime which lives up to the philosophical nature’.55 In his Politeia, Zeno claimed that only the sage is a citizen and that the city and political regime he belongs to is the cosmic city, which, in turn, happens to be the only city worthy of the name. Zeno’s criticism was influenced by the philosophy of the cynics, who were keen to denounce the relativity and particularity of the nomoi (laws and customs) of the ‘small’ cities and opposed to those nomoi the universal rules of nature. To the eyes of the cynics as to Zeno’s, no particular city or political regime could ever be acceptable given the relativity and conventionality56 of its laws and system of justice. In the end, Seneca’s interpretation of Zeno’s doctrine turns out to be absolutely correct. That the sage ‘will participate in public life unless something prevents him’ is really, after all, a call for otium and contemplation, but that call is in itself just another way for the sage to engage in politics: T6-19 What is the sage’s frame of mind as he withdraws into leisure (Quo animo ad otium sapiens secedit)? He does so in the knowledge that then also he will be actively engaged in undertakings that will benefit posterity. Certainly we Stoics are ones to assert that both Zeno and Chrysippus accomplished greater things than if they had led armies,

176  Chapter 6 held high office, and brought in laws (leges tulissent)—and bring in laws they did, not for a single state but for the whole of the human race (quas non uni ciuitati, sed toti humano generi tulerunt)! So, then, why ever should leisure such as this (tale otium) not be right for the good person, if he uses it to give direction to later generations and to address not just a few but all peoples of all nations, both present and future? (Sen. Ot. 6.4, trans. Williams, adapted) The case of the early Stoics shows that the withdrawal into studious leisure of the sage is not a withdrawal from action and politics. Like the Stoic sage, Zeno and Chrysippus engaged in contemplation with a certain frame of mind, that of being useful to other people. Thanks to otium and contemplation, they were able to benefit the many in a manner that goes far beyond what the action of a professional statesman could ever do. Indeed, they acted as lawmakers and brought in laws, not for a particular city, but for the whole of the human race.

4 From the cosmic city to Nero’s imperial administration The early Stoics were actively engaged in politics, but only in the politics of the cosmic city. How could Seneca, a former preceptor of the young Nero who then became amicus principis, reconcile his choice of life with the doctrines of the early Stoa? Some commentators have seen Seneca’s defence of otium in On Leisure as inconsistent with his political activities at Nero’s court. This has prompted much debate about the date of that work. Even if we accept that he wrote On Leisure around 62, the year when he first asked permission to withdraw from his duties at the court, we should be careful not to read that essay as an attempt on Seneca’s part to alter his principles to suit the circumstances.57 Besides the fact that we should take Seneca as a serious thinker, one who tried to harmonize his life with his philosophical convictions, not the other way around, On Leisure itself shows that he saw no contradiction between the contemplative life of the early Stoics and the active political life he himself chose to lead. Earlier, we have noted that he distinguishes not one but two cases when a Stoic is allowed to withdraw into otium: either one can simply, early on, choose a life of studious leisure, ‘seeking a coherent intellectual basis for life and practising it in private’; or, at a very old age and after an active life spent in the political arena, one can choose to retire and to teach others.58 The incomplete state of the text makes it difficult to know what kind of precise arguments Seneca may have advanced in favour of the second thesis,59 the one which probably initiated the whole discussion of the essay in the first place.60 However, even if he seems to use the doctrines of the first Stoics to defend the case of an early withdrawal, he surely could not see them as incompatible with a defence of the second case (late withdrawal after a life in politics). It is likely that he used these doctrines as argumenta

Seneca on providence  177 a fortiori: if the early Stoics, while advocating political engagement, allowed for a whole life spent in contemplation and private action, then all the more they must have allowed a Stoic to retire after a life spent in politics, rather than compelling him to continue such a life until death. Still, why did Seneca see no contradiction between his way of life, which included many years spent at the service of a ‘small city’, and his commitment to Stoicism? Why did he not simply espouse the very way of life adopted by the early scholarchs themselves, who, as he reminds his reader in his essay, ‘never took part in the government of the city’?61 I believe the reason has mainly to do with the special place later Stoics conferred to early Stoics in the history of the Stoa. Epictetus, for instance, presents Zeno’s role as that of a divinely appointed teacher and doctrine maker.62 He regularly suggests that the role of later Stoics is first to try to understand what Zeno or Chrysippus wrote, and then put their doctrines into practice.63 I suspect the same view is in large part true also of Seneca, even if he was probably more easily prone than Epictetus to call into question64 some of the doctrines of the first Stoics.65 At any rate, in On Leisure he clearly presents the first Stoics as lawmakers who have set up the laws of life for the benefit of the ‘present and future’ generations of human beings (T6-19). One can only assume, therefore, that for Seneca, the role of later Stoics should be different from that of the founding fathers. What matters is not to imitate the lives of the first Stoics,66 but to understand and live by the laws they have established, that is, to find ways of translating their doctrines into action. From the point of view of later Stoics, living by Zeno’s laws can be done in various ways, depending on the circumstances. If one is a former slave, an exile in Nicopolis, putting Stoic doctrines into action simply means trying to apply them into one’s own life and teaching them to other people. But if one is a Roman aristocrat asked to take care of a future emperor, then the chance to reform morally not simply oneself or few other people, but the city itself, is an opportunity that should not be missed. On Clemency is evidence that Seneca tried to reform the politics of a ‘small city’, i.e. the Roman Empire, and that he did so by relocating it within the frame of the politics of the Stoic cosmic city. As we are going to see, this led him to the creation of a model of leadership where benevolence, philanthropy and providence play a key part. 4.1 The king as god’s viceroy On Clemency is an essay addressed to Nero at least one year after his accession to the principat (in 54), i.e. either in late 55 or in 56.67 It is the only extant (if incomplete) Stoic essay of its genre, one in which a philosopher advises an actual king about good governance. The singularity of such a task can be better shown if we compare the essay with two different Stoic accounts on politics: Zeno’s description of the ideal city (in his Republic), and Posidonius’ description of human cities during the Golden Age of humanity (on which,

178  Chapter 6 see Chapter 5, section 5). While Zeno’s cosmic city is one where sages, living in accordance with the universal laws of nature, are the only citizens, Posidonius’ politeia is meant as a depiction of actual historical early human cities in which non-sages naturally submit themselves to a philosopher-king. Seneca’s essay differs from these two accounts in that it aims at providing a model of good governance for a city that is not ruled by gods or sages, only by a promising68 good-natured king. Besides, in Seneca’s case, the king has not been freely chosen by the people, and obedience to his leadership is not naturally secured. As we are going to see, these major differences account for the special status Nero is given in On Clemency, that of being god’s viceroy, and also for the peculiar virtue he must acquire (clemency) if he wants to secure the obedience of the Roman people. 4.1.1 Absolute power and accountability Contrary to gods and sages, Seneca’s king does not possess wisdom and virtues, which, from a Stoic point of view, is a serious defect when it comes to exercising absolute power. In Chapter 5, we have seen that kingship is, by definition, a form of absolute power where the ruler is unaccountable (ἀνυπεύθυνος, cf. T5-19b-c) and therefore free to act as he wishes. The Stoics hold that kingship suits the sage only, since wisdom and virtue make sure that the sage always acts rightly and never errs (T5-19c): there is simply no need for a system of checks and balances when wisdom is in command, and that is the reason why kingship is a natural fit for a sage. While Nero’s accession speeches advertised a will to reinstate the Senate in its former prerogatives, On Clemency makes it clear that Nero’s power is absolute indeed, frequently using the heavily connoted word rex69 in conjunction with that of princeps 70 when referring to Nero’s office. According to the Stoa, a non-sage should be deprived of its sovereign power (αὐτεξούσιον) and placed under the authority of a sage (see T5-21): in doing so, he will lose the ability to err and commit injustice with impunity and at the same time will be able to improve his moral character. I believe that is exactly the task Seneca is setting himself to carry out in On Clemency. His first move consists in redefining Nero’s status as god’s viceroy: T6-20 [a] Have I of all mortals proved good enough and been chosen to act as the gods’ representative on earth (Egone ex omnibus mortalibus placui electusque sum, in terris deorum uice fungerer)? I make decisions of life and death for the world. The prosperity and condition of each individual rests in my hands. (…) I have the power to decide (mea iuris dictio est) which nations should be annihilated and which relocated, which granted liberty and which deprived of it (…) [b] Concealed, no, tied up to its sheath is my sword: I am extremely sparing of even the cheapest blood. There is no one, whatever else he may lack, who does not win my favour if he has the name of man (nemo non, cui alia desunt, hominis

Seneca on providence  179 nomine apud me gratiosus est). I keep sternness concealed but clemency ready on standby. [c] I guard myself just as if I were going to have to justify myself to those laws which I summoned from their neglect and darkness into the light (sic me custodio, tamquam legibus, quas ex situ ac tenebris in lucem euocaui, rationem redditurus sim). (…) [d] Whenever I had discovered no reason for pity, I showed mercy to myself. If the deathless gods should require a reckoning from me, I am ready today to account for all of mankind (Hodie dis immortalibus, si a me rationem repetant, adnumerare genus humanum paratus sum). (Sen. Clem. 1.1.2–4, trans. Braund, adapted) Nero has been elected by the gods71 as their representative on earth [a]. That means two things: in relation to other human beings, he has been given absolute power of life and death, but in relation to the gods and their laws (the laws of nature), he shall be held accountable (rationem reddere) for his actions [c and d]. What kind of accountability is it exactly? In Seneca: A Philosopher in Politics, Miriam T. Griffin insists that we should identify the laws mentioned in [c] as the positive Roman laws, not the unwritten laws of morality. She believes that Seneca is implicitly alluding to the ‘illegal behaviour of Claudius’,72 Nero’s predecessor who is reported having shown contempt for ‘proper judicial procedure’.73 Her interpretation does not seem to hold, though. The virtue of clemency,74 which Seneca urges Nero to embrace, is not one that would compel a judge to apply carefully what the positive laws prescribe, but rather to adopt a high-minded view about a given crime that would normally imply a severe punishment: T6-21 Clemency has a freedom of decision (Clementia liberum arbitrium habet). It forms its judgments not according to the letter of the law but according to what is right and good (non sub formula, sed ex aequo et bono iudicat). And it is allowed to acquit or to set the damages in a case at any level it likes. It does none of these things with the attitude that its action is less than justice requires but with the attitude that its decision is the most just course of action possible. (Sen. Clem. 2.7.3, trans. Braund) The passage shows clearly that clemency is not constrained by positive laws, and that it bases its judgement on moral ground only. One must conclude, therefore, that by making Nero god’s representative, Seneca is trying to impose some form of moral accountability: Nero can do whatever he wants with regard to the human beings who are under his power (and so nothing constrains him to follow the positive and human laws of the Roman Empire), but he is accountable to god, and that means that he must behave according to the highest possible moral standard, that is, as god himself would behave if he were in his position.

180  Chapter 6 4.1.2 God’s providence and philanthropy So, how would god behave with human beings according to a Stoic? We have seen that the Stoic god is, generally speaking, a benevolent force that aims at keeping the world and its parts alive. Among the parts of the world, human nature is of particular importance in god’s eyes. According to Arius Didymus, a Stoic who, like Seneca, was a court philosopher (at Augustus’),75 god’s affection for humans is based on the shared possession of reason: T6-22 The world is like a city consisting of gods and humans, with the gods serving as rulers and humans as their subjects. They are members of a community because of their participation in reason, which is natural law; and everything else is created for their sake. From which things it follows that we must suppose that the god who administers the universe exercises providence towards human beings (προνοεῖν τῶν ἀνθρώπων), being beneficent, and useful, and affectionate to humans (εὐεργετικὸν ὄντα καὶ χρηστὸν καὶ φιλάνθρωπον), and just, and possessed of all virtues. (Arius Didymus apud Eus. PE 15.15.4–5 = SVF 2.528 and 67L L.-S., trans. partly from Long and Sedley) The passage as a whole is extremely valuable to us as not only does it make it clear that god’s philanthropy is an expression of his providence, but it also shows that philanthropy (φιλανθρωπία) is a defining trait of good governance in any city, be it the cosmic city, depicted here, where gods are in command, or a minor res publica as is the Roman Empire. So, if Nero has been elected as gods’ representative on earth, his governance must exhibit a fundamental care for human beings. In Seneca’s text, that trait is immediately stressed (in T6-20), with Nero emphatically stating that ‘there is no one, whatever else he may lack, who does not win my favour if he has the name of man’. Nero’s opening soliloquy shows quite clearly that there is a strong connection between philanthropy and clemency (‘I keep sternness concealed but clemency ready on standby’), the chief virtue of a king according to Seneca. In that sense, the choice of writing an essay on clemency as a means to advise a young princeps is one that is fully in accordance with Stoicism, something that Seneca actually acknowledges himself later in the text: T6-23 I realize that among the ill-informed the Stoic school has a negative reputation for being excessively harsh and least likely to give good advice to emperors and kings. (…) But in fact, no school is more kind or lenient (benignior leniorque), none is more philanthropic (nulla amantior hominum) or more concerned about the common good—so that it is its objective to be useful, to be helpful, and to consider not only its own interest but that of the communities and individuals’ (Sen. Clem. 2.5.2–3, trans. Braund)

Seneca on providence  181 It cannot be stressed enough how important philanthropy is for Stoicism, and given the essential link that exists between philanthropy and Seneca’s conception of clemency, his whole essay should be interpreted as a genuinely Stoic way of attempting to reform the politics of the Roman Empire. One of Seneca’s main concerns is finding a way to impose some form of control on the princeps himself, and his first move, as we have seen, consists in redefining Nero’s political status as that of god’s viceroy. The restraining effect of that redefinition is already apparent at the end of T6-20, where Nero says that the prospect of having to give a reckoning of his actions makes him impose guardianship over himself (‘me custodio’). But the moderating effect that Seneca aims at is not achieved simply by subjecting Nero to the justice of god or the laws of nature, but also by making Nero act like god, in particular, like a Stoic god. We know that in the Stoa, god is the soul of the world, more precisely, the commanding part of the cosmic soul which, located in the heavens, extends throughout the body of the world. The Stoics also developed the idea that god is the breath (πνεῦμα)76 of the cosmos, a blend of hot and cold that provides the world with tension, stability and substantiality. As breath, god is presented as the maintaining power (συνεκτικὴ δύναμις)77 of the world, the very link (δεσμός)78 that maintains its life. In On Clemency, all these unmistakably Stoic characteristics of god are being transferred to Nero: T6-24 I present an analogy: the body is entirely at the service of the mind (totum corpus animo deseruit). (…) At its command we lie still, or we run about non-stop. (…) In the same way, this enormous mass that surrounds the life of one man is governed by his breath (spiritu regitur) and steered by his reason (ratione flectitur). It would crush and shatter itself with its own strength if it were not sustained by his discernment (nisi consilio sustineretur). (…) [The ruler] is the link that holds the state together (Ille est enim uinculum, per quod res publica cohaeret). He is the breath of life (ille spiritus uitalis) to all these many thousands who on their own would only be a heavy weight and easy prey if that mind of the empire (mens… imperii) were withdrawn. (Sen. Clem. 1.3.5–4.1, trans. Braund, adapted) As god’s representative on earth, Nero inherits the function and condition of a Stoic god, that of a mind (animus, mens) and breath of life (spiritus uitalis)79 which hold the empire together. The main reason why Seneca is applying to Nero these Stoic characteristics of god80 is that they make Nero’s fortune and well-being inseparable from his empire’s, something that, as the next passage explains, has crucial consequences on Nero’s policy: T6-25 The fact is that if – as the argument so far suggests – you are the mind of the state and the state is your body (tu animus rei publicae tuae

182  Chapter 6 es, illa corpus tuum), you see, I think, how essential clemency is (quam necessaria sit clementia): you are showing mercy to yourself when you seem to be showing it to someone else (tibi enim parcis, cum uideris alteri parcere). So you should show mercy even to citizens who deserve condemnation just as you would to ailing limbs. And if there is ever a need to let blood, you should restrain the blade to stop it cutting more deeply than is necessary. (Sen. Clem. 1.5.1–2, trans. Braund) Even if Seneca’s argument is clearly carefully crafted so as to meet his goal in On Clemency, namely, restraining Nero and making sure his power is well-directed, everything that is said here reflects accurately the Stoic conception of divine providence. As already explained above (see T6-11, with commentary), the main reason the Stoic god is taking care of the parts of the world is that it is a way for him of taking care of himself. According to the Stoics, it is a natural impulse for any living being to do everything primarily for his or her own sake. However, they also insist that one cannot personally benefit from anything if one’s action is not at the same time beneficial to others (see infra T10-11). We can see here how such a doctrine is being applied by Seneca: since Nero and the Roman Empire are inseparable, everything good he will do for the state will have beneficial repercussions for him as well; it is therefore in his personal interest to show clemency to any of the members of the state.81 This has extraordinary consequences with respect to clemency itself, which becomes the very policy of the princeps: even when there is no judicial ground for clemency and the punishment is deserved, clemency should nevertheless be applied for the sake of the princeps himself, who would be indirectly harmed should the punishment be carried out (see T6-20 [d]: ‘Whenever I had discovered no reason for pity, I showed mercy to myself’). 4.2 Clemency and the obedience of the people For the state to maintain its life it must not only be governed by a wise ruler, but it must also have citizens willing to obey. When a city is being led by a philosopher-king, as has been the case of the early human cities according to Posidonius (T5-23), the sage was naturally elected by the citizens who gladly put themselves at his service. In the case of the Senecan Roman Empire, things are different: not only is the princeps not a sage, only an apparently good-natured ruler, but the Roman citizens themselves are presented (some of them at least) as morally ill, a condition that makes them refractory to following the commands of the ruler. A particular remedy must therefore be applied so that they may be cured and eventually abide by the law of the king. At this point it should come as no surprise that such a remedy is clemency itself, but it is important to understand why that is the case and see that the reasons given by Seneca are again deeply rooted in his Stoicism.

Seneca on providence  183 First of all, it belongs to the princeps to attend his fellow citizens when they are ill and to improve their condition: T6-26 There is no creature more difficult (morosius), none that needs more handling with more skill, none that needs treating more tolerantly, than human beings. (…) We do not get angry with diseases but treat them. Yet this too is a disease, a disease of the mind (morbus… animi). It needs gentle treatment (mollem medicinam) along with someone to treat it who is not in the least hostile to the patient. To despair of effecting a cure is the mark of a bad doctor. The person who has been entrusted with the welfare of everyone (cui tradita salus omnium est) ought to act on the same principle in the case of people whose minds are affected. (Sen. Clem. 1.17.1–2, trans. Braund, adapted) As god’s representative on earth, the princeps has been entrusted with the welfare (salus) of everyone: his providential office is not simply to preserve the life of the people who are under his care, but to improve their moral condition as well. Whenever an injustice is committed, he must look at the perpetrator as a patient in need of a cure. Anger should therefore not be his answer, but a ‘gentle treatment’ adapted to what Seneca here calls the very difficult nature (morosius) of man. Later in the text, he gives further details about what he means by that: T6-27 A high rate of punishment is no less disgraceful for an emperor than a high rate of mortality is for a doctor. The more tolerantly he rules the more easily he commands obedience (remissius imperanti melius paretur). The human spirit is naturally unyielding (Natura contumax est humanus animus), inclined to opposition and difficulties. It is more prepared to follow than to be drawn (sequiturque facilius quam ducitur). And just as thoroughbred, pedigree horses are more easily controlled by a loose rein, so a moral integrity that is voluntary follows upon clemency by its own impulse (ita clementiam uoluntaria innocentia impetu suo sequitur), and the community considers clemency valuable enough to be preserved in its own interest (et dignam putat ciuitas, quam seruet sibi). (Sen. Clem. 1.24.1–2, trans. Braund, adapted) There is something distinctive in human nature: it is unyielding and will rebel if faced with adversity. More precisely, and the wording of Seneca is important here, human nature is more inclined to follow (sequiturque facilius) than it is to be drawn or dragged (quam ducitur).82 Now this is probably a reference to the famous dog and cart simile the Stoics used to illustrate the situation human beings find themselves in with regard to fate.83 They used to say that when a dog is tied to a cart, either ‘it wants to follow’ (βούληται ἕπεσθαι) and therefore voluntarily follows the cart when it starts moving, or it does not want to follow the cart but is compelled to do so anyway. The same goes for

184  Chapter 6 human beings with regard to fate: since everything is fated, human beings will follow fate, willingly or not. The idea behind this image was not for the Stoics to make human beings feel miserable and helpless, but to show that happiness is possible on the condition of willingly following nature, wherever she leads us, to health or illness, wealth or poverty and so forth. And the condition for that is to ‘follow’, that is, to understand nature and fate.84 As we have seen in the previous chapters,85 human beings are endowed with a capacity – reason – that is specially adapted to understanding and following nature (nature herself being essentially rational). Similarly, Seneca is explaining here that if one wants to cure humans from their moral vices, one has to adopt a treatment that is adapted to human nature, one that is made for following (universal) nature rather than being dragged by it. In other words, there is no way one can force a human being to get better and do good, for constraints will only irritate his unyielding nature. One must rather employ a treatment that is adapted to the rational nature of human beings, and such a treatment is nothing else but clemency (see also infra T8-37 and T8-38). It is true that Seneca does not specifically mention reason in the passage quoted above and apparently only contrasts voluntary and forced actions. At the same time, his concern is clearly with human nature, and we have seen how committed Seneca is to the rationality of the human nature and to the view that human beings can improve themselves through learning (T6-5). Besides, and probably more to the point here, clemency, as an expression of philanthropy, results from the acknowledgement of the shared possession of reason (T6-22): if human beings are loved by god, it is because they belong to one and the same family, the family of reason, humans being themselves offspring of god.86 In that sense, clemency is perfectly adapted for the curing of moral illness, which itself is nothing but a ‘disease of the mind’ (morbus animi, cf. T6-26). In fact, as Seneca explains it in the second book of On Clemency where he examines the essence of this notion, clemency ‘accords with reason’ (rationi accedit) and that is why it is important not to confuse it with pity (misericordia)87: while pity, a passion and a vice of the mind,88 is triggered by seeing the misfortunes of other people (see also infra T8-24, with commentary), clemency is a virtue befitting only of a calm and provident mind89 that will provide help and assistance based on the knowledge of causes. In fact, clemency is so well-adapted a remedy to the illness of the mind that Seneca presents its beneficial effects as necessary consequences: ‘a moral integrity that is voluntary follows upon clemency (clementiam… sequitur) by its own impulse’. By taking care of the moral condition of his fellow citizens, the king will become beneficial not only to them, but to himself and to the whole state: citizens will voluntarily follow his command, obey his law and put themselves in danger for him if needs be: T6-28 In short, the only person who has a firm and well-grounded greatness is the one that everyone knows is both their leader and their

Seneca on providence  185 supporter, the one that they find every day has unsleeping concern for the safety of one and all (cuius curam excubare pro salute singulorum atque universorum cottidie experiuntur), the one they do not run away from when he approaches as if some monster or dangerous creature had jumped from its lair, but compete with each other to rush towards, as if to a bright and friendly star, totally ready to throw themselves on the sword-points of assassins in his defence and to lay their bodies on the ground if his path to safety has to be made with human slaughter. (Sen. Clem. 1.3.3, trans. Braund) The effect of clemency is here perfectly well illustrated through the depiction of the way human beings behave when they are governed by a provident ruler, one which has ‘unsleeping concern for the safety of one and all’. Contrary to what is the natural impulse of animals – generally speaking, that of fleeing what is potentially harmful to them – those people seem to forget completely about their personal safety and rush towards danger for saving their ruler when he comes under attack. In other words, what clemency or providence provokes is an apparently total reversal of the natural impulses of humans. However, as Seneca explains a little bit later, such behaviour ‘is not without reason (non est sine ratione)’.90 In accordance with the Stoic doctrine that every living being does everything mainly for his or her own sake, he goes on explaining that ‘it is their own safety that people love (suam incolumitatem… amant)’91 when they put themselves in danger to protect a good ruler. For they know that he is the very ‘link that holds the state together’, the breath of life that keeps all citizens alive and well (T6-24). It is possible to have a better understanding of the very peculiar, apparently unnatural, behaviour of citizens governed by a provident ruler, thanks to a quote of Chrysippus preserved by Epictetus: T6-29 As long as the future is uncertain to me, I always hold to those things which are better adapted to obtaining the things in accordance with nature (τῶν κατὰ φύσιν); for god himself has made me disposed to select these (αὐτὸς γάρ μ’ ὁ θεὸς ἐποίησεν τούτων ἐκλεκτικόν). But if I actually knew that I was fated now to be ill, I would even have an impulse to be ill (καὶ ὥρμων ἂν ἐπ’ αὐτό). For my foot too, if it had intelligence, would have an impulse to get muddy (καὶ γὰρ ὁ πούς, εἰ φρένας εἶχεν, ὥρμα ἂν ἐπὶ τὸ πηλοῦσθαι). (Chrysippus apud Epict. D. 2.6.9 = SVF 3.191 and 58J L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) We find here the same contrast as in Seneca between two opposite impulses, one towards things in accordance with nature, such as health and cleanliness, and the other towards their opposite, illness and dirtiness.92 Chrysippus’ point is that there is no contradiction between the two sorts of impulses: if nothing prevents me from selecting things that are in accordance with

186  Chapter 6 nature, things that help me to preserve myself, then I should select them since that is how god disposed me, he who has installed a drive for selfconservation in the human nature.93 That drive is like a compass that helps us direct our life when we have no clear knowledge of what is next to come, whether we shall stay healthy or fall ill. But if we do fall ill, we shall not run away from it, that is, we shall not be upset (complain about it) and look at illness as something bad, which it is not (it is only a dispreferred indifferent). Chrysippus, however, goes much farther than that: should I be aware that I am going to fall ill, ‘I would even have an impulse to be ill’. As explanation, he adduces the image of an intelligent foot that wants to get muddy, an image that is further explained by Epictetus in the following passage: T6-30 I will say that it is natural for the foot to be clean, taken in isolation, but if you consider it as a foot (ὡς πόδα) and not in isolation (ὡς μὴ ἀπόλυτον), it will be appropriate (καθήξει) for it also to step into mud, and trample on thorns, and sometimes even to be cut off for the sake of the body as a whole (ὑπὲρ τοῦ ὅλου); for otherwise, it will no longer be a foot. We should think in some such way about ourselves also. What are you? A human being. Now, if you consider yourself in isolation, it is natural for you to live to an advanced age, to be rich, and to enjoy good health; but if you consider yourself as a human being and as part of some whole (μέρος ὅλου τινός), it may be in the interest of the whole that you should now fall ill, now embark on a voyage and be exposed to danger, now suffer poverty, and perhaps even die before your time. (…) What, then, is a human being? A part of a city (μέρος πόλεως), first of all that which is made up of gods and human beings, then that which is closest to us and which we call a city, which is a microcosm of the universal city (μικρὸν τῆς ὅλης μίμημα). (Epict. D. 2.5.24–26, trans. Hard) The reason why an impulse towards illness or even death may sometimes be adequate to human beings is that a human being, like a foot, is not a fully independent substance but rather a part of a much larger whole. Although a foot, like any other part of the human body, should strive to stay clean and avoid mud, circumstances do sometimes mean that the foot should get muddy for the sake of the human being that foot is a part of (let’s say for the sake of that person escaping from a muddy and inhospitable jungle). The same holds for a human being in relation to the whole, or rather wholes, he is a part of. For a human being is both a citizen of the world, in the sense that he is a rational part of a rational cosmos, and also a citizen of the ‘small city’ which he happens to inhabit here on earth. Every part (citizen) of a city should strive to stay alive and well, but sometimes what is required of a part is to sacrifice itself so that the city may survive. As parts of the city, citizens have their telos not in themselves but in the whole they serve, which means that their telos is ultimately identical to that of the city. That explains why a

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foot, should it have intelligence and know that it is soon going to be covered with mud, will have an impulse to get muddy. The impulse only shows that the foot is, by nature, a part, and that its natural behaviour is that of serving the whole body, wilfully enduring whatever unfortunate circumstance that may occur to it. If we return to Seneca’s text (T6-28), it is now possible to have a better understanding of the effects of clemency and providence. Humans are, by nature, social animals according to the Stoa. As a citizen, a human being cannot achieve his telos otherwise than by serving the city. At the same time, the value of being part of a city becomes obvious to humans only when the city is well governed, and it is no surprise therefore that the primary city of humans (T6-30) is the cosmic city, which is governed by wise and provident gods. Although all humans qua humans are in a sense citizens of the world, since they are rational animals and are parts of the cosmos, cosmic citizenship belongs really only to the sage, who has learned through contemplation that the world itself is a rational and benevolent living being and that anything that happens, even illness or premature death, always happens for the best. For the immense majority of human beings, however, the realization that their telos lies in something bigger and greater than themselves only comes by the means of a provident ruler, whose philanthropy and clemency provoke a dramatic shift in their natural impulses, heading for danger instead of fleeing for their life when the safety of the state is in peril. Providence is therefore what makes human beings become what they by nature are and behave in a manner that befits their true, social nature.

Notes 1 See Ker 2014: 277. 2 I shall however discuss two important passages of Seneca’s On Providence: see T6-13 and T10-30. See also T7-16a and b. 3 A parallel passage is found in Sen. Ben. 4.7–8 = SVF 2.1024. 4 In Ben. 4.8 = SVF 2.1024, Seneca proposes to look at all the names or epithets of god as multiple aspects of one single power that are interrelated like virtues are relatively to the soul. 5 Cic. ND 2.35–37. 6 Plut. St. rep. 34.1050C = SVF 2.937 and 54T L.-S. 7 See Pl. Tim. 34a-40d for the creation of the world-soul (which is itself fully rational and intelligent) by the divine craftsman. 8 Sen. Ep. 48.11. 9 On Seneca’s treatment of this important topic in his Natural Questions, see Inwood 2005b. 10 See D.L. 7.46–48 = SVF 2.130 and 31B L.-S. On dialectical virtues, see Long 1996a: 85–106. 11 See Sen. NQ 2.38.1–4. For an analysis of co-fatality and the Stoic answer to the Lazy Argument, see Bobzien 1998: 199–217, and Gourinat 2005a: 247–273. 12 See supra note 271. 13 This rival interpretation, defended by the Sceptical Academy (see T4-8, with commentary), was also advocated by Ariston of Chios, a former pupil of Zeno

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Chapter 6

(who eventually quitted the Stoa) who claimed that physics is beyond us and logic of no utility to us and who restricted philosophy to ethics only (see D.L. 7.160). We shall find another illustration of that coincidence of interests in Seneca’s On Clemency: see T6-25 and the commentary on T6-28. See also Sen. NQ 1.Praef.2. See Bénatouïl 2006. According to that view, reason is that by means of what ‘one perceives the consequences and the contradictions, which include division, synthesis, analysis, and demonstration’ (Gal. Hipp. off. med. XVIII B, p. 649 Kühn = SVF 2.135). See in particular Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 4.11.900C = Aëtius, Placita 4.11.1, p. 1592 M.-R., SVF 2.83 and 39E L.-S. On the interpretation of this important passage, see especially Scott 1995: 136 ff., Jackson-McCabe 2004: 328 ff., and I. Hadot 2014, 387–390 (who is discussing Inwood 2005a). Bénatouïl 2006: 26. Life is a preferred indifferent. See D.L. 7.102 = SVF 3.117 and 58A4 L.-S. On the Stoic conception of freedom, see supra T5-19a-c, with commentary, and Chapter 8, section 2. See B. Collette-Dučić 2019. Stob. Ecl. 2.77.21 = SVF 1.184 and 63A2 L.-S.: εὔροια βίου. See Epict. D. 4.4.5: ‘No feature of the “smooth flow ” is so characteristic as continuity and freedom from hindrance (ἡ δ’ εὔροια οὐδὲν οὕτως ἔχει ὡς τὸ διηνεκὲς καὶ ἀνεμπόδιστον)’ (trans. Oldfather, adapted). Sen. Prov. 6.9. Sen. Prov. 6.8: ‘Let every time, every place teach (doceat) you how easy it is to reject the claims of Nature and to throw her gift back in her face’ (trans. Davie). Contrary to the nature of the world, which is all-encompassing and knows no exteriority (T6-3), the human nature is a particular one and, as such, bound to evolve into a potentially opposing environment. Sen. Ot. 6.2, trans. Williams, adapted. See Sen. Ot. 6.1 (ciuilem agas uitam) and 6.5 (rem publicam administrauit). Griffin 1976. Sen. Ot. 2.1–2, trans. Williams. See Griffin 1976: 354, n. 2. The identification is however far from certain according to Williams 2003: 13. A similar attack is made against the Stoics by Plutarch in St. rep. 1.1033A-C. See also Cic. De re pub. 1.10. On that epicurean doctrine, see Roskam 2007: 50–56 and McConnel 2010: 181 ff. According to Sedley 1997: 46, it is not impossible that one of these special circumstances would explain why the Epicurean Cassius decided to take part in the conspiracy to murder Caesar. As we have seen in T6-13, the easiness of death makes sure that there will always be another route available to the Stoic sage. A point Seneca makes at Sen. Ot. 6.1–2. Sen. Ot. 8.3, trans. Williams. In Griffin 1976, M. T. Griffin gives fastidiosus a pejorative meaning (‘arrogantly’, ‘fussily’) and thinks that Seneca is actually rejecting the views of the early Stoics that the moral quality of the state can be an acceptable reason (causa) for not engaging into politics (p. 332). She goes so far as to say that Seneca thought the Stoic doctrine on political participation is ‘self-contradictory’ (ibidem) and that, in his On Leisure, he ‘went on to ridicule, in particular, the exception based on the viciousness of the state’ (p. 344). Her interpretation is however unconvincing. As to the word fastidiose, it can have the non-pejorative sense of ‘with a hard critical eye’, which is the sense I have adopted, following Williams 2003: 113.

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40 The claim is repeated a few lines later in 8.3: ‘If I wanted to make a complete survey of individual political regimes, I wouldn’t find a single one that could tolerate, or be tolerated by, the sage’, trans. Williams. 41 See Pl. Rep. 7.519c. 42 See Pl. Rep. 7.520e-521b. 43 See Pl. Rep. 7.520a-e. 44 Cic. Off. 1.28. 45 Id. Ibid, trans. Atkins: nam hoc ipsum ita iustum est, quod recte fit, si est uoluntarium. 46 Id. Ibid, trans. Atkins: discendi enim studio impediti, quos tueri debent, deserunt. This is close enough to Seneca’s argument (in T6-16) that neglecting oneself is not simply harming oneself, but actually harming others. Whether one is neglecting one’s own moral state, or is taking care of it without however letting others benefit from it, the result is a form of injustice, one that consists in depriving other human beings of a potential benefit. 47 See in particular Pl. Rep. 6.487d and 488d. Socrates agrees that philosophers are indeed ‘useless’ to the city, but says one should blame the city itself for that, since it is the city that does not see the usefulness of philosophers and does not want them to govern (489b). In reality, politics is a form of knowledge, which only philosophers possess, and that is why they are the best suited for political office (488d). 48 See in particular Pl. Rep. 6.499c-d. 49 Pl. Apol. 31d-e. 50 Pl. Gorg. 521d: I believe I’m one of a few Athenians, not to say the only one, to make an attempt at the political art in the true sense, and the only one of the present days to be actively engaged in political matters. (Trans. Sachs) 51 There is an obvious discrepancy between Plato’s Socrates’ own personal attitude to politics in the Dialogues and that of the philosophers of the Republic who would rather remain in what they think is the ‘island of the blest’ (7.519 c), the realm of pure contemplation, than go down into the cave to free the other men kept prisoners in it. 52 Sen. Ot. 8.3, trans. Williams. 53 Sen. Ot. 3.3. 54 See Vander Waerdt 1991. 55 Pl. Rep. 6.497a-b. See Williams 2003: 114, for the suggestion that Seneca may be echoing Plato’s passage here. 56 Vander Waerdt 1991: 187 and 197. 57 I agree with Williams 2003: 2, that such questions of date and external circumstances are ‘perhaps too confining, accommodating Ot. (…) to the facts of S[eneca]’s life rather than allowing the texts to be evaluated on their own terms’. However, I also believe that there would be nothing wrong on the part of Seneca with wanting to justify philosophically his decision to withdraw from politics and writing De otio to that effect. 58 Sen. Ot. 2.1–2. 59 For the non-standard view that the two theses are in fact examined by Seneca in the extant text, see Williams 2003: 17–18. 60 If one examines closely Ot. 1.4, where the addressee is accusing Seneca of deserting Stoicism, the main point made there is that a Stoic should ‘remain in active service right up to the very end of life’ and never cease to be active. The criticism appears therefore to be aimed at the specific view that a Stoic might be granted permission to withdraw at old age, after a life spent in politics.

190 Chapter 6 61 Sen. Ot. 6.5. 62 See Epict. D. 3.21.20. For an interpretation of Zeno’s role of a teacher in Epictetus, see Schofield 2007. 63 See e.g. Epict. D. 1.17.15–18 and 4.9.6. 64 See Sen. Ot. 3.1: If someone always supports the opinion of the same person, he belongs not in the senate but in a claque. If only everything were already understood, the truth obvious and generally accepted, and we never changed any of our convictions! As it is, we search for the truth along with the very people who teach it. (Trans. Williams)

65 66

67 68

69

Seneca’s critical eye about Stoic doctrines accords well with his genetic view about knowledge, where human beings arrive at the understanding of things only progressively, in the course of the life of humankind. See e.g. Sen. Ep. 113, where he expresses disdain for a question (whether virtues are animate beings) which interested the early Stoa. As explained by Seneca in Ot. 6.5, the contemplative life of the early Stoics was the result of external circumstances: ‘They had neither the fortune (…) nor the civic status which normally allows people to participate in public administration’ (trans. Williams). See Griffin 1976: 133 and Braund 2009: 16. See Sen. Ot. 1.1.6 (Nero’s goodness is innate) and Ot. 2.2.2 (natural inclination towards virtue is not enough and must become ‘considered judgment’ or iudicium). On Clemency was written during the quinquennium Neronis, the first five years of Nero’s reign, marked by the positive influence of Seneca and Burrus. On this point, see Braund 2009: 3. See Griffin 1976: 142: Cicero pointed out [in De re pub. 2, 47–49 and 52] that after the expulsion of the last Tarquin, the Romans were not able to bear the nomen regis, but used the word, not as the Greeks to mean a good ruler as opposed to a tyrant, but in a bad sense to indicate anyone who wanted absolute power; ‘For Seneca’s time, we have evidence that rex was still commonly a term of opprobrium.’

70 On the use of rex in De clementia, see Griffin 1976: 141–143. 71 On this, see Fears 1975 who shows, against previous interpretations, that although the agent of the verb electus sum is not spelled out, one must understand that it is the gods themselves who have elected Nero as viceroy. 72 Griffin 1976: 138, n. 5. 73 Griffin 1976: 150. 74 On which see Brouwer 2011: 33–38. 75 Sedley 2003: 32. 76 See texts gathered in 47 L.-S. 77 Gal. Plen. 7.525.9–14 = SVF 2.439 and 47F L.-S. 78 Alex. Mixt. 223.34 = SVF 2.441 and 47L2 L.-S. On the Latin fortune of this stoic image, see Lapidge 1980. 79 On the stoic spiritus in Seneca, see Lapidge 1989: 1399–1400. 80 See also Clem. 2.2.1. 81 The same applies, mutatis mutandis, to god in relation to individual human beings: see infra T10-23, with commentary. 82 A somewhat similar position is held by Epictetus, in D. 3.7.32–36. 83 Hipp. Ref. 1.21.2 = SVF 2.975 and 62A L.-S. 84 On this, see infra Chapter 7, section 1.1.

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85 See in particular Chapter 5, section 2. 86 See Sen. Ot. 5.5, Ep. 66.12 and Ep. 120.14. The doctrine is one shared by all Stoics. See T5-1b and T5-13. 87 Sen. Clem. 2.5.1 = SVF 3.452. 88 Sen. Clem. 2.6.4. 89 Sen. Clem. 2.6.1. 90 Sen. Clem. 1.3.4. 91 Sen. Clem. 1.4.1. 92 These are called, respectively, preferred and dispreferred indifferents by the Stoics: see texts gathered in section 58 of Long and Sedley. 93 Chrysippus is referring to the doctrine of οἰκείωσις, according to which an animal is born with a natural affection for itself and has therefore ‘self-conservation as the object of its first impulse’ (D.L. 7.85 = SVF 3.178 and 57A L.-S.).

7

Epictetus on providence

Epictetus (c. 50–c. 135 A.D.) regularly stresses the unique relationship between god and human beings and insists that Stoicism is the only philosophical school that has correctly understood that divine providence extends down to individuals. We shall discuss the last point in detail in Chapter 10, section 5. In this chapter, we will focus on what Epictetus saw as obstacles for human beings to recognize the existence of providence, and what the consequences of those obstacles are for individuals and for societies. In the first section, we will see that the recognition of providence and the sense of gratefulness that comes with it depend on human beings fulfilling their nature, which includes the contemplation of god’s works. However, gratitude in itself can be made impossible by what the Stoics saw as one of the two sources of perversion (διαστροφή): the fascination for external things, and the undervaluation of one’s own soul and reason (which is divine and a detached part of god) that perversion leads to. Self-respect and a sense of inner nobility are key for not blaming the gods for the difficulties and misfortunes that we are all bound to meet with in our lives. And a way to achieve that, explains Epictetus, is to remind ourselves of the special bond there is between god and us, that of a father caring for his children. In the second section, we will look once again at the link the Stoics make between providence and human societies. Human beings are by nature social animals, and this makes communities necessary for humans to fulfil their nature and achieve happiness. Communities are also, for god, a way to ensure the preservation of mankind. Key for that plan to succeed is the natural affection (φιλοστοργία) of parents for their children, which the Stoics saw as the origin of human societies and, quite generally, of the affection of human beings for one another. Now, the same kind of perversion leading humans to be ungrateful and to impious behaviours is also at work with regard to parental love. Epictetus explains that parents tend to have a perverted kind of affection for their children, one that, paradoxically, causes affliction and disunion. But he also shows, in his discussion of Epicurus’ rejection of parental love, that the nature that human beings have been endowed with by god is stronger than any type of perversion and that it never ceases to govern and lead humans towards their telos, no matter how ignorant and unwilling they are. DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-7

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1 Praising providence, or not A fitting way to introduce ourselves to Epictetus’ conception of providence is through an examination of D. 1.6, a discourse titled On Providence by Arrian. In it, we find Epictetus discussing about divine providence and the many reasons why one should praise it. Interestingly enough, Epictetus offers there a very subtle account of the reasons why people still fail to recognize and praise god’s providence: T7-1 From everything that comes about in the world (Ἀφ’ ἑκάστου τῶν ἐν τῷ κόςμῳ γινομένων) one may easily find cause to praise providence (ῥᾴδιόν ἐστιν ἐγκωμιάσαι τὴν πρόνοιαν) if one possesses these two qualities: [a] the capacity to see what has come about in relation to each being (δύναμίν τε συνορατικὴν τῶν γεγονότων ἑκάστῳ), and [b] a sense of gratitude (τὸ εὐχάριστον). For, otherwise, one will either [a’] fail to see the usefulness of what has come about (ὁ μὲν οὐκ ὄψεται τὴν εὐχρηστίαν τῶν γεγονότων), or else [b’] fail to be grateful for it even if one does in fact see it. (ὁ δ’ οὐκ εὐχαριστήσει ἐπ’ αὐτοῖς οὐδ’ ἂν ἴδῃ) (Epict. D. 1.6.1–2, trans. Hard, adapted) There are two conditions that must be met in order for us to be able to recognize and praise divine providence. We must possess, first [a], ‘the capacity to see (δύναμίν τε συνορατικὴν) what has come about (τῶν γεγονότων) in relation to each being’,1 which Epictetus further presents [a’] as a capacity ‘to see (ὄψεται) the usefulness of what has come about’. Second [b], we must have ‘a sense of gratitude (τὸ εὐχάριστον)’. No particular explanation is at this point given as to why this sense of gratitude should be counted as a separate condition, but at least it is clear that, for Epictetus, ‘seeing’ the usefulness of something is not in itself enough to make us feel grateful for it. Near the end of his discourse, Epictetus appears to return to those two conditions and the text there sheds some more light on what he means: T7-2 Possessing these faculties as you do, free and as your own, you fail to make use of them, however, and fail to perceive what it is that you have received, and from whom, but sit there grieving and groaning, some of you [a] blinded towards the giver and not even recognizing your benefactor (οἱ μὲν πρὸς αὐτὸν τὸν δόντα ἀποτετυφλωμένοι μηδ’ ἐπιγινώσκοντες τὸν εὐεργέτην), while others [b] are led astray by their baseness (οἱ δ’ ὑπ’ ἀγεννείας) into making reproaches and complaints against god (εἰς μέμψεις καὶ τὰ ἐγκλήματα τῷ θεῷ). (Epict. D. 1.6.41–42, trans. Hard, adapted) Epictetus has just explained that all human beings have been provided with faculties (such as courage and endurance) that are specifically meant for bearing with ‘unpleasant and distressing events’ (D. 1.6.26) and help them

194  Chapter 7 find ways to make these events useful to them; those faculties are ‘ours’ and ‘free’ in the sense that nothing, not even god (D. 1.6.40), can oppose and obstruct them. In spite of this, he concludes, some people still ‘grieve and groan’, but not all for the same reasons. There are those [a] who are simply unaware that they have those useful faculties and are therefore ‘blinded towards the giver and not even recognizing [their] benefactor’, that is, god. This first group of ‘blind people’ clearly recalls the first kind of condition mentioned in T7-1, where the key idea is that of ‘not being able to see’ what is useful. These people are not in a position to be ‘ungrateful’ towards anyone since they are unaware of what they have received and of their benefactor. The second group of people [b], on the contrary, is well aware of their benefactor and is presented as making reproaches and complaints against god. The reason why they complain cannot, therefore, be that they are blind to the existence of god and his providence. It has to do with something else, says Epictetus: their ‘baseness’ (ἀγέννεια). It is their baseness that is the cause of them being ungrateful and therefore also impious: T7-3 [Y]ou sit there trembling at the thought that certain things may come about, and wailing, grieving, and groaning at others that do come about; and then you cast blame on the gods (εἶτα τοῖς θεοῖς ἐγκαλεῖτε). For what other consequence than impiety can result from such baseness (τί γάρ ἐστιν ἄλλο ἀκόλουθον τῇ τοιαύτῃ ἀγεννείᾳ ἢ καὶ ἀσέβεια;)? (Epict. D. 1.6.38–39, trans. Hard, adapted) Here, we come to understand that among people who fail to praise divine providence, only those persons who do so because of their baseness are truly impious. The vocabulary used by Epictetus – ἀκόλουθον – that of logical consecution, suggests that there is a necessary link between baseness and impiety (ἀσέβεια), hence that the former should be considered as the cause of the latter. 1.1 Human beings and contemplation 1.1.1 God and the world: a spectacle to contemplate If we want to better understand Epictetus’ conception of divine providence, we must find out more about the two qualities one must possess in order to be grateful to god, starting with the first one: the capacity to see what is useful. Although presented as a necessary but not sufficient condition for piety, it will quickly become apparent how important that condition is in the eyes of Epictetus. The Greek adjective used by Epictetus in T7-1 to specify the sort of capacity needed in order to see the usefulness of things is συνορατική, from the verb συνοράω, meaning ‘to be able to see, to have within the range of one’s vision’. But what Epictetus really means by it is to comprehend or

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understand. In the closely related discussion of D. 1.16 (also titled On Providence), he uses instead the expression παρακολουθητικὴ δύναμις, the capacity to follow what is going on, hence to understand.3 The reason why, in T7-1, he prefers resorting to the adjective συνορατική is mainly because of the theme of contemplation and spectacle he is going to introduce a bit further down in the discussion: T7-4 God has brought the human race into the world to be a spectator of himself and of his deeds (τὸν δ’ ἄνθρωπον θεατὴν εἰσήγαγεν αὐτοῦ τε καὶ τῶν ἔργων τῶν αὐτοῦ), and not merely to be a spectator of them, but also to interpret them (καὶ οὐ μόνον θεατήν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐξηγητὴν αὐτῶν). (Epict. D. 1.6.19 = 63E5 L.-S., trans. Hard, adapted) The human race exists for the sake of being the spectator (θεατής) of god and his works, and it has been introduced to the world by god precisely to fulfil that function. We recognize here the same idea already put forward by Seneca (see Chapter 6, section 2.3), who explains that the inquisitive (curiosus) nature of human beings has to do with god ‘wanting to be contemplated’ together with his work (the world) (see T6-11). The idea that human nature is used by god for his own sake is central to the Stoic conception of providence. Contrary to what later critics will claim, the Stoics hold that divine providence does not entail a reversal of function and dignity between gods and human beings, where the divine care for humans turns god into a slave and humans into his masters (see Chapter 10, section 2 and T10-4). Their position is rather that the good of the gods and the good of human beings actually fully concur with one another (see T10-5), and that this was meant to be so by god himself who made sure that the telos of the human race is the contemplation of the world. In order to demonstrate that contemplation is the telos, both Seneca and Epictetus proceed by examining the natural constitution (κατασκευή) of human beings, and infer from it that humans have been made and equipped precisely for contemplating the world. In his On Leisure (T6-11), Seneca focuses on the position of human beings in the world (at the centre) and their physical apparatus and posture (e.g. standing erect and having their head atop their body and placed on a pliant neck), because he wants to explain that humans are meant for the contemplation of the physical world, in particular the movements of the stars in the sky. In D. 1.6, we do not find references of that kind, and it is not immediately clear what exactly Epictetus means by contemplating ‘the deeds of god’. In his account, Epictetus focuses on the psychical constitution of humans, that is, on what is distinctive of the human soul compared to that of irrational animals: T7-5 Is it the case, then, that they [i.e. irrational animals] too understand how things come about (παρακολουθεῖ τοῖς γινομένοις)? No, not at

196  Chapter 7 all, since use (χρῆσις) is one thing and understanding (παρακολούθησις) is another. God needed both of these creatures, which merely make use of impressions (χρωμένων ταῖς φαντασίαις), and of ourselves, who understand the use of them (παρακολουθούντων τῇ χρήσει). For them, it is enough merely to eat, drink, take rest and procreate, and perform such other functions as are appropriate to each, whereas for ourselves, who have been further endowed with the faculty of understanding (καὶ τὴν παρακολουθητικὴν δύναμιν ἔδωκεν), that is no longer enough, but unless we act in a methodical and orderly fashion (κατὰ τρόπον καὶ τεταγμένως), and in accordance with our own specific nature and constitution (ἀκολούθως τῇ ἑκάστου φύσει καὶ κατασκευῇ), we shall no longer attain our proper end. (Epict. D. 1.6.13–15 = 63E2–3 L.-S., trans. Hard, adapted) Given the equivalence we have noticed between the expressions συνορατικὴ δύναμις and παρακολουθητικὴ δύναμις, we can take it that what is explained here about the specificity of human nature, namely that it has been endowed with the ‘faculty of understanding’, applies to and helps explain what the first condition for recognizing divine providence presented in T7-1 refers to. What sets human beings apart from the rest of the animal kingdom is that they possess reason, and reason is a faculty of understanding. All animals have in common the faculty to ‘use impressions’, says Epictetus, by which he means the capacity to act upon them. Indeed, Stoic psychology teaches4 that any animal motion requires an impulsion (ὁρμή) and that impulsions cannot come about without an impression or φαντασία first occurring to the mind. If I am hungry, I must first have an impression of some food for my impulsion towards that food to kick in. While in irrational animals the ‘use of impression’5 is direct and unmediated,6 in the case of human beings, the possession of reason introduces a distance between the user and the impression, which makes the user able to use impressions in a certain way. In order for that use to be rational, men must act ‘in a methodical and orderly fashion’,7 that is (although that is not spelled out in our text), according to right reason rather than passions or false judgements. So far, it is still not clear what the objects of contemplation are in Epictetus’ account. The closest we get comes from the following passage: T7-6 It is thus disgraceful for a human being to begin and end where the irrational animals do. Rather, he should start off where they do and end where nature ended with regard to ourselves. Now it ended with contemplation, and understanding, and a way of life that is in harmony with nature (κατέληξεν δ’ ἐπὶ θεωρίαν καὶ παρακολούθησιν καὶ σύμφωνον διεξαγωγὴν τῇ φύσει). See, then, that you don’t die without having been a spectator of these things (ὁρᾶτε οὖν, μὴ ἀθέατοι τούτων ἀποθάνητε). (Epict. D. 1.6.20–22 = 63E6 L.-S., trans. Hard, adapted)

Epictetus on providence  197 After having explained that the human telos lies in ‘contemplation’ (θεωρία), ‘understanding’ (παρακολούθησις) and living in ‘harmony with nature’, Epictetus urges us not to die without having been the spectator ‘of these things’ (τούτων), but, again, the identity of the objects of contemplation remains obscure. What exactly is the nature of those things that humans should contemplate? Let us go back to T7-1, where Epictetus also uses a genitive plural after the expression συνορατικὴ δύναμις (‘capacity to see’): τῶν γεγονότων ἑκάστῳ (‘what has come about in relation to each being’). Modern English translations of this passage usually read as if Epictetus was referring to ‘events’ happening to things.8 But Epictetus’ choice of a perfect participle (γεγονότων) suggests that what he has in view are not ‘events’ (γιγνόμενα) happening to beings, but something more fundamental and constitutional. A confirmation of that is found in D. 1.16, where Epictetus employs the same expression (‘τῶν γεγονότων’): T7-7 And yet, by Zeus and all the gods, a single one of the things that have come about (ἓν τῶν γεγονότων) would suffice to make anyone recognize that there is a divine providence (ἀπήρκει πρὸς τὸ αἰσθέσθαι τῆς προνοίας), if he were duly reverent and grateful (τῷ γε αἰδήμονι καὶ εὐχαρίστῳ). And I’m not thinking for the moment of anything grand, but the mere fact that milk is produced from grass, and cheese from milk, and wool from an animal’s hide; who brought these things to be, who conceived the idea of them? ‘No one,’ someone says. Oh what a lack of awareness! what impudence! (ὦ μεγάλης ἀναισθησίας καὶ ἀναισχυντίας) (Epict. D. 1.16.7–8, trans. Hard, adapted) We may note that the passage mentions the two conditions for praising god that we were first presented with in T7-1: knowledge or awareness of the usefulness of ‘the things that have come about’, on the one hand, and reverence and gratitude, on the other. We will return to that important distinction later. For now, it is enough to acknowledge that the examples of γεγονότα mentioned here are not events: that milk is produced from grass, or cheese from milk, does not refer to events happening to these things, but to god-given (i.e. in-built) capacities which, once humans have become aware of them, become useful to them and are recognized as such. With the help of those examples, we understand that, in D. 1.6.22, when Epictetus says ‘not to die without having been the spectator of these things’ (T7-6), what he actually refers to is everything that he has been discussing since D. 1.6.18, which includes not only the specific capacity of human beings to understand and contemplate things (our T7-4 and T7-6), but also the usefulness of the natural capacities of irrational animals: that some of them have been ‘constituted’ (κατασκευάζει) by god to be eaten by humans, others to be used in the fields, others again to produce cheese and so forth (D. 1.6.18).

198  Chapter 7 In light of this, it can be admitted that what Epictetus has in mind at the end of T7-6 – the objects that must be contemplated – is the natural constitutions of beings, be it plants (capable of producing milk), irrational animals (serving as food) or human beings (endowed with a capacity of understanding). What he urges us to ‘see’ is that everything9 there is in the world is actually useful to humans10 and that we should be grateful to the gods since they are the ones responsible for the specific constitutions natural beings do possess. Now, in order to see those things, humans must understand them, that is, understand their usefulness. Given the equivalence there is between seeing and understanding, what that means is that human beings will never be able to find anything useful in this world if they do not actually make use of their ‘capacity to see’. That is the main message of the section of D. 1.6 we have been analysing so far: for humans to praise divine providence, they must see (i.e. not be blind to the fact) that they possess a capacity to see and make use of it, which is only possible if the capacity to see is reflexive,11 which is indeed the case as we shall see later (T7-25). That is why Epictetus is urging us to contemplate: most people behave as if they were deprived of that capacity, blind as they are to its existence. Since human beings were introduced into the world for the sake of contemplating god and his deeds (T7-4), it is of paramount importance for them to make use of their in-built capacity of seeing and understanding,12 otherwise they will never fulfil their telos, which is to live ‘in harmony with nature’ (T7-6). 1.1.2 Why most human beings fail to contemplate Compared to Posidonius’ (see T5-1a and Chapter 5, section 3) or even to Seneca’s (Chapter 6, section 2) account, Epictetus’ account of mankind being born for contemplating the world has apparently little to do with the study of physics per se. True, it includes, as we have just seen, the study and understanding of the natural constitutions of other living beings. Epictetus also sometimes resorts to the Stoic account of sympathy between celestial bodies and earthly phenomena (such as tides) to demonstrate the existence of providence (see Chapter 10, section 5.1). But it appears that the sort of object he has in mind and that need to be contemplated is above all what is inside of us: our soul and its constitution. This is particularly clear in D. 2.14, as we are going to see. In this discourse, called ‘To Naso’, we find again the theme of humans as spectators of the world, this time through the metaphor of a festival (πανήγυρις): T7-8 Our situation is like that at a festival (ὡς ἐν πανηγύρει). Sheep and cattle are driven to it to be sold, and most people come either to buy or to sell, while only a few (ὀλίγοι) come to look at the spectacle (κατὰ θέαν) of the festival, to see how it is proceeding and why, and who is organizing it, and for what purpose. So also in this festival of the world. Some

Epictetus on providence  199 people are like sheep and cattle and are interested in nothing but their fodder; for in the case of those of you who are interested in nothing but your property, and land, and slaves, and public posts, all of that is nothing more than fodder. Few indeed are those who attend the fair for love of the spectacle (φιλοθεάμονες), asking, ‘What is the universe then (τί ποτ’ οὖν ἐστιν ὁ κόσμος), and who governs it (τίς αὐτὸν διοικε)? No one at all? And yet when a city or household cannot survive (διαμένειν) for even a very short time without someone to govern it and watch over it, how could it be that such a vast and beautiful structure could be kept so well ordered by mere chance and good luck (εἰκῇ καὶ ὡς ἔτυχεν)? So there must be someone governing it (ἔστιν οὖν ὁ διοικῶν). What sort of being is he, and how does he govern it? And we who have been created by him, who are we, and what were we created for (πρὸς τί ἔργον)? Are we bound together with him in some kind of union and interrelationship (ἆρά γ’ ἔχομέν τινα ἐπιπλοκὴν πρὸς αὐτὸν καὶ σχέσιν), or is that not the case?’ (Epict. D. 2.14.23–27, trans. Hard) The image of the festival-goers is used by Epictetus to distinguish between two sorts of people. Most human beings behave like sheep and cattle in the sense that, while they are at a festival or πανήγυρις, a word that in Greek usage also conveys the idea of a ‘spectacle for the eyes’, they do not pay attention to the spectacle in itself but simply go about their business of buying and selling. Like cattle and sheep, only concerned with their fodder, those people are interested in nothing but their ‘property, land, slaves, and public posts’. Only very few people, says Epictetus, go to the festival for the sake of it, that is, for ‘the love of spectacle’. They alone see it as a product so beautiful, so well arranged, that they immediately wonder about who is running it. Faced with the alternative whether such a perfect organization is the result of an intelligent divine mind or the mere product of chance, they conclude that it must be governed by god (see also supra T2-1). They then continue their enquiry into the exact nature of god and the kind of relationship there is between gods and human beings. This comparison of the condition of human beings with that of festivalgoers appears at the end of a discourse that is based on Epictetus’ reply to one Naso,13 a wealthy and successful Roman who visited Epictetus’ school, asked Epictetus questions about his teaching while at the same time refused to be subjected to a philosophical examination. There are several indications that show that the section of the text about the festival is not a separate, disconnected addition but actually serves as a metaphor for describing the very condition of Naso as presented in the other sections of the discourse. This is already clear from the following passage where, when asked by Epictetus if he would agree to join a philosophical test (see T7-10), Naso says that it would be too painful for him to do so because of his condition: T7-9 ‘But it’s tiresome to be subjected to such a refutation (τὸ ἐξελέγχεσθαι) when one’s already of quite an age, and, as it happens, one has served in

200  Chapter 7 three campaigns.’ I know that very well, since you came to me just now like a man who doesn’t stand in need of anything (ὡς μηδενὸς δεόμενος). After all, what could you even suppose that you have need of? You’re wealthy, you quite possibly have a wife and children and any number of servants. Caesar knows you, you have plenty of friends in Rome, you fulfil your duties, you know (οἶδας) how to repay who has been good to you and hurt back who has been bad to you. What is it that you lack? (Epict. D. 2.14.17–19, trans. Hard, adapted) The passage clearly echoes the way Epictetus described the condition of the majority of people at a festival, people interested only in what Stoics usually call ‘preferable indifferents’: Naso has wealth, family, servants, Caesar’s ear and friends in Rome, all of which clearly show what he most values in life. Exactly like the traders of the festival simile, Naso’s condition is also presented as comparable to that of dumb animals. The reason for that is that he appears to ignore the very distinction between the use (χρῆσις) of things and the understanding (παρακολούθησις) of their use: T7-10 ‘Where are we to start, then? (Πόθεν οὖν ἄρξασθαι δεῖ;)’ If you’ll agree, I’ll tell you that you must start (πρῶτον δεῖ) by understanding words (τοῖς ὀνόμασι παρακολουθεῖν). ‘So you mean to say that I don’t understand them at present?’ Indeed you don’t. ‘Then how is it that I can make use of them? (Πῶς οὖν χρῶμαι αὐτοῖς;)’ You use them in the same way as illiterate people use written speech, and cattle use impressions (ὡς τὰ κτήνη ταῖς φαντασίαις); for use is one thing, and understanding is another (ἄλλο γάρ ἐστι χρῆσις, ἄλλο παρακολούθησις). If you believe (οἴει), however, that you understand them, take any word you wish, and let’s put ourselves to the test (βασανίσωμεν αὑτούς) to see if we understand it (εἰ παρακολουθοῦμεν). (Epict. D. 2.14.14–16, trans. Hard, modified) When asked to participate in a joint examination of the ‘understanding of words’ (τοῖς ὀνόμασι παρακολουθεῖν), Naso thinks that the fact that he uses words is already enough to prove that he understands their meaning. In Epictetus’ eyes, he is clearly mistaken since it is one thing to use something (a word, an impression) and another to understand the correct use of that thing. As we have seen in T7-5, the possession of the faculty of understanding is what makes human beings different from and superior to the rest of animals. By ignoring the difference between ‘use’ and ‘understanding’, Naso puts himself into the category of those people who fail to ‘praise providence’ not because they are ungrateful, but simply because they don’t use the very faculty that they have been given in order to contemplate the world and learn that it is governed by god and providence (T7-8). Unlike the other texts we have examined so far, D. 2.14 gives us an explanation as to what exactly prevents people from using their faculty of

Epictetus on providence  201 understanding and, as a consequence, forces them to remain blind to the existence of providence. The explanation has been alluded to by Epictetus in T7-9, after Naso’s refusal to subject himself to refutation: he thinks he does not need anything since he has everything already. In reality, Naso misses the most important thing, says Epictetus: T7-11 If I show you that you lack what is most essential and important for happiness (τὰ ἀναγκαιότατα καὶ μέγιστα πρὸς εὐδαιμονίαν), and that up until now you have occupied yourself with everything other than what is proper for you, and I should add, to cap it all, that you know neither what god is, nor what a human being is, nor what is good, nor what is bad—if I say that you’re ignorant of these other matters, you may perhaps be able to put up with that, but if I say that you don’t even know yourself (ὅτι δ’ αὐτὸς αὑτὸν ἀγνοεῖς), how will you be able to bear with me and submit to my refutation (τὸν ἔλεγχον), and stay in this room? (Epict. D. 2.14.19–20, trans. Hard, slightly adapted) What Naso suffers from is not simply that he is ignorant of what is essential for the attainment of happiness, that is, of what god, man, the good and the bad are (or, what those words mean). The real issue is that he suffers from double ignorance: he does not know himself. Indeed, the way he has been presented in T7-9 shows that Naso believes he does not need anything, that he is in a perfect condition, whereas, in reality, ‘[his] desires are inflamed, [his] aversions are weak, [his] purposes are inconsistent, [his] impulses are out of harmony with nature, [his] judgments are ill-considered and mistaken’.14 The way Naso is predicted to react to being refuted is typical of those who falsely believe they are knowledgeable and do not feel the need to learn anything: they cannot stand being shown their ignorance and prefer not to engage in the philosophical examination of their own beliefs. 1.1.3 The cause of double ignorance So far, Epictetus’ account goes as follow: it is their double ignorance that prevents people like Naso from using their faculty of understanding (παρακολουθητικὴ δύναμις) and, as a consequence, from recognizing and praising providence. What Epictetus says in To Naso suggests that Naso’s ignorance of providence has to do with his failure to understand words. Indeed, the passage of T7-10, where Naso asks whence his instruction must start and Epictetus replies that the first thing that must be done is ‘to understand words’ (τοῖς ὀνόμασι παρακολουθεῖν), comes right after Epictetus has stated what must first be learned according to philosophers, namely, that there is a god and he is provident: T7-12 The philosophers say that the first thing that needs to be learned (ὅτι μαθεῖν δεῖ πρῶτον) is the following, that there is a god, and a god

202  Chapter 7 who exercises providential care for the universe (ὅτι ἔστι θεὸς καὶ προνοεῖ τῶν ὅλων), and that it is impossible to conceal from him not only our actions, but even our thoughts and intentions. (Epict. D. 2.14.11, trans. Hard) There is obviously a link in Epictetus’ mind between learning that providence exists and the peculiar kind of understanding (παρακολούθησις) that is at work with regard to ‘words’. But what does he mean exactly by ‘understanding words’? A decisive clue is found at the beginning of one of Epictetus’ key discourses, D. 2.11, called ‘What is the point of departure in philosophy’ (Τίς ἀρχὴ φιλοσοφίας;): T7-13 [a] The point of departure in philosophy, at least for those who embark on it in the proper way and enter by the front door, is a consciousness of our own weakness and incapacity with regard to essential matters (συναίσθησις τῆς αὑτοῦ ἀσθενείας καὶ ἀδυναμίας περὶ τὰ ἀναγκαῖα). [b] For we come into the world without having a natural conception (φύσει ἔννοιαν) of a right-angled triangle, or of a quarter-tone or half-tone in music, but learn (διδασκόμεθα) what these are through some kind of technical instruction (ἔκ τινος τεχνικῆς παραλήψεως), so that, for that reason, those who have no knowledge of them don’t believe that they know (οὐδ’ οἴονται εἰδέναι) anything about them; but who among us enters the world without having an implanted conception (ἔμφυτον ἔννοιαν) of what is good and bad, right and wrong, appropriate and inappropriate, and of happiness, and of what is proper for us and falls to our lot, and of what we ought to do and ought not to do? [c] And so it comes about that all of us make use of these words (πάντες χρώμεθα τοῖς ὀνόμασιν), and try to apply our preconceptions to individual cases (ἐφαρμόζειν πειρώμεθα τὰς προλήψεις ταῖς ἐπὶ μέρους οὐσίαις). He acted ‘well’, he did ‘as he ought’ or ‘ought not’ to have done; he has been ‘unfortunate’, or was ‘fortunate’; he is ‘unjust’, or is ‘just’; who among us fails to use such words (τούτων τῶν ὀνομάτων)? Who defers the use of them (τὴν χρῆσιν αὐτῶν) until he has been properly instructed (μέχρι μάθῃ), as with those who are ignorant about lines or musical notes? [d] The reason (τούτου δ’ αἴτιον) is that, in this area (κατὰ τὸν τόπον), we come into the world already instructed (δεδιδαγμένους), as it were, to some degree by nature (ὑπὸ τῆς φύσεως), and starting from that, we go on to add our own presumption (ἀφ’ ὧν ὁρμώμενοι καὶ τὴν οἴησιν προσειλήφαμεν). (Epict. D. 2.11.1–6, trans. Hard, adapted) Epictetus links [c] the right use of words with that of preconceptions.15 ‘Preconception’ or πρόληψις is a technical word that is used by the Stoics to refer to conceptions (ἔννοιαι) that are natural, that is, conceptions that are not acquired through instruction but that we owe, they say, to nature.16 As the word pro-lêpsis itself shows, a preconception enables us to have a cognitive

Epictetus on providence  203 grasp of something beforehand. In Epictetus’ account, the objects of which we have preconceptions are moral in kind [b]: ‘what is good and bad, right and wrong, appropriate and inappropriate’. Those natural conceptions distinguish themselves from the ones we get from ‘technical instruction’, such as the conceptions of a right-angled triangle or of a quarter-tone. From the text, it is clear that what Epictetus means by ‘the use of words’ (χρῆσις τοῖς ὀνόμασιν) is the way we use the natural conceptions that words such as ‘good’ or ‘bad’, ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, ‘appropriate’ or ‘inappropriate’ refer to. We ‘use’ those words in the sense that we use them in propositions in which something is predicated of something else: ‘he acted well’, ‘he is just’, ‘he is happy’ and so forth. What we actually do, when we use those words, Epictetus explains, is that we ‘apply’ a given preconception (good, justice, happiness) to a particular object: we apply the conception of good to a particular action and we say that the action in question falls into the category of what is good. The Greek verb for ‘to apply’ is ἐφαρμόζειν, which literally means to adapt or fit (harmozein) something on to (epi) something. When we apply a preconception to a particular object (a particular individual or action), there is a risk that we do it in relation to the wrong object, i.e. an object that does not fit with the preconception. The risk of this happening is much higher in the case of preconceptions than in that of technical notions because, in the latter case, we would not ‘dare’ to use the words of technical conceptions without having been properly instructed about their exact meaning. In the case of moral natural conceptions, since ‘we come into the world’ already instructed about them17 [d], we tend to believe that we know them well enough to already apply them correctly. But we are wrong, for, as already explained in T7-10, it is one thing to make use (χρῆσις) of something, and another to have the understanding (παρακολούθησις) of how to use it properly. The Stoics hold that while a preconception enables us to start an investigation about a given object, it is not in itself sufficient for defining it. They make an important distinction between a simple outline (ὑπογραφή) and a definition (ὅρος),18 saying that what we grasp beforehand, thanks to a preconception, is a sketch or outline that needs to be ‘articulated’, that is, clarified, and thus transformed into a definition.19 That process, they say, can only happen through instruction. Epictetus, who fully agrees with that account, calls ‘understanding’ (παρακολουθεῖν) the process of transforming a preconception into a fully articulated notion. Here is what he says in another passage where he tackles again the question of the cause of double ignorance: T7-14 But most people make the same mistake as the orator Theopompus, who criticized Plato for wanting to define each particular word (ἐπὶ τῷ βούλεσθαι ἕκαστα ὁρίζεσθαι). What did he say, then? ‘Before you came along, did no one ever speak of “good” or “just”? Or, without understanding (μὴ παρακολουθοῦντες) what each of them meant, we merely uttered meaningless and empty (ἀσήμως καὶ κενῶς) sounds?’ Why, who has ever told you, Theopompus, that we don’t have natural conceptions,

204  Chapter 7 that is to say, preconceptions (ἐννοίας … φυσικὰς καὶ προλήψεις) relating to each of these words? But it is impossible for us to adapt these preconceptions to the corresponding realities unless we have articulated them (μὴ διαρθρώσαντα αὐτὰς) and examined which reality should be ranged under each of them. (Epict. D. 2.17.5–7, trans. Hard, adapted) The case of Theopompus of Chios (a pupil of Isocrates and, like his master, a critic of Plato) is parallel to that of Naso (in T7-10): he too thought that since we happen to use words, it implies that we understand them. The alternative, he says, would be that when we use words, we simply utter meaningless and empty sounds, which is absurd. Epictetus replies that there is an intermediary state between the proper understanding of words and a complete lack of understanding of them. Thanks to preconceptions, we have a certain grasp of the meaning of words and that explains why we make use of them. But those preconceptions cannot, by themselves, offer more than a sketch of their true meaning, and that is why we need to articulate them, that is, clarify their exact meaning and define them. Only then will we be in a position to correctly use words. The need to clarify preconception is what should bring us to philosophy. It is what Epictetus calls the proper way, when one enters ‘by the front door’ (T7-13 [a]). But most of us, like Naso, are unaware ‘of our own weakness and incapacity with regard to essential matters’, that is, moral matters (see T7-11, where what is most essential is said to pertain to happiness). We are driven to philosophy because we want to learn theoretical and technical matters (see D. 2.17.3: θεωρήματα), while the most urgent matter is to start to use words correctly. What prevents us from realizing that need, says Epictetus, is presumption (οἴησις, see the end of T7-13): because we possess natural conceptions of things, we presume we know them, but what we lack is the capacity to correctly apply those notions, which demands a genuine understanding of them. That presumption is, ultimately, what makes people like Naso fail to use their faculty of understanding – the capacity to see (συνορατικὴ δύναμις) that human beings have been equipped with by god (T7-5) in order to interpret the world – grasp the usefulness of everything that happens and ultimately praise god and providence for it. Without using our faculty of understanding, we are bound to remain the slaves of our opinions and live in a state of war against others (who have different opinions, cf. D. 1.22.4) and ourselves, unable as we are to achieve our quest of happiness. 1.2 The inner nobility of human beings Thanks to the examination and refutation of their presumptions, human beings can become aware that they possess a capacity to see and understand the deeds of god and eventually make use of it. That is how they finally can come to the knowledge of the existence of god and his providence. Still,

Epictetus on providence  205 Epictetus maintains that contemplating the world and seeing how it has been made for the benefit of the mankind is not in itself sufficient to ensure that humans will praise divine providence, that is, express gratitude towards the gods. Praising providence can apparently be prevented by another cause: baseness (ἀγέννεια). 1.2.1 Misfortunes and god’s apparent lack of care for human beings Before starting our examination of that other cause, let us note that baseness is the moral equivalent of ‘low birth’ (ἀγένεια). Its antonym is ‘nobility’ or ‘nobility of mind’ (γενναιότης), which is the moral equivalent of ‘nobility’ or ‘high birth’ (γενναιότης).20 In order to clarify what ‘baseness’ refers to in Epictetus’ account, we should first start to gather some further clues directly from D. 1.6. If we look at the section 26–42, where Epictetus focuses on this second obstacle to piety, we see that, in contrast to the previous section, it is concerned with the apparent misfortunes and injustice in the world from which human beings suffer. Indeed, after Epictetus introduced a new comparison – this time with people who make the trip to Olympia to look at the work of Phidias – in order to urge his students to start contemplate the world, comes the following, blunt objection: T7-15 ‘But unpleasant and harsh things come about in this life (Ἀλλὰ γίνεταί τινα ἀηδῆ καὶ χαλεπὰ ἐν τῷ βίῳ).’ (Epict. D. 1.6.26, trans. Hard, adapted) In Stoicism, the objection that there is misfortune and hardship in the world is one that is usually associated with the topic of theodicy: it is introduced as a challenge to god’s alleged providence towards human beings. That connection already helps us to see in what sense one can recognize god and, to some degree, his providence, but still fails to show gratitude for it because of the misfortunes one has to endure in one’s own life. As we shall see in detail later (Chapter 10, section 5), the Stoics did not remain content with claiming that god is provident: they specifically defended the existence of a personal kind of providence, according to which god’s providence extends to individuals. It is worth noting here that, in Cicero’s account of that doctrine (see T10-26 [b]), the same sort of objection as in T7-15 is made against personal providence. It is therefore possible that what Epictetus is concerned with, in the second part of D. 1.6, is the personal relationship between humans and god. Here, we may remember the question he put forward at the end of T7-8: ‘Are we bound together with god in some kind of union and interrelationship, or is that not the case?’ For a Stoic, if providence is to be truly meaningful, it must account for more than just the perfect administration of the world: the relationship between god and human beings has to be personal and god must be shown to care for humans in a unique way.

206  Chapter 7 1.2.2 God as father of humans One line of argument the Stoics sometimes used to fend off the objection based on the existence of misfortunes in the world is to present hardships as opportunities created by god for human beings to develop virtue. Most of Seneca’s On Providence, for instance, can be read as a variation on that theme.21 What is interesting for us here is that Seneca explains the idea that apparent misfortunes are occasions for virtuous acts by resorting to the special relationship between god and humans: T7-16a I shall restore you to good relations with the gods, who are best to the best of people. For it is not nature’s way to let good ever do harm to good; between good people and the gods exists a friendship sealed by virtue. Friendship, do I say? No, rather it is a bond of relationship and similarity (immo etiam necessitudo et similitudo), since undoubtedly a good person differs from god only in the sphere of time; he is god’s pupil and imitator, his true offspring (uera progenies) whom that illustrious parent, no gentle trainer in virtue, rears with severity (durius educat), as strict fathers do (sicut seueri patres). (Sen. Prov. 1.5, trans. Davie, adopted) T7-16b It is a father’s heart (patrium… animum) that god shows to good people; he loves them in a manly way, and says, ‘Let them know the pain of toil, of suffering, of loss, so that they may acquire true strength.’ (Sen. Prov. 2.6, trans. Davie) The reason why good people have to endure hardship in their life is because of their relationship with god: they are his offspring and pupils and he, like a strict father, has laid down for them an educational programme full of toil, suffering and loss, so that they may acquire virtue. Epictetus expresses the same general idea, in particular through the character of Heracles.22 In D. 1.6, he is introduced in order to illustrate the view that hardships exist for humans to develop their virtues: T7-17 What kind of a man do you suppose Heracles would have become if it hadn’t been for the famous lion, and the hydra, the stag, the boar, and the wicked and brutal men whom he drove away and cleared from the earth? What would he have turned his hand to if nothing like that had existed? Isn’t it plain that he would have wrapped himself up in a blanket and gone to sleep? First of all, then, he would surely never have become a Heracles if he had slumbered the whole of his life away in such luxury and tranquillity; and even if he had, what good would that have been to him? What would have been the use (χρῆσις) of his arms and of all his strength (ἀλκῆς), endurance (καρτερίας), and nobility of mind (γενναιότητος) if such circumstances and materials (περιστάσεις καὶ ὗλαι) hadn’t been there to rouse him and exercise him? (Epict. D. 1.6.32–34, trans. Hard, adapted)

Epictetus on providence  207 Heracles would have never become who he is or enjoyed the use of his virtues had he not encountered ‘the famous lion, and the hydra, the stag, the boar, and the wicked and brutal men’. Those external misfortunes were like materials (ὗλαι) for him on which to exercise his virtues. We shall return to the exact meaning of those materials later. Epictetus lists three of these virtues. The first two are standard Heraclean virtues: strength and endurance. The connection of the third one, nobility of mind or γενναιότης, to Heracles is less directly obvious. However, it probably hints at the special relationship Heracles has with god, and which Epictetus fully spells out in D. 3.24, after having explained that Heracles travelled the world to, quoting from Homer, ‘view the wickedness of men and their lawful ways’: T7-18 How many friends do you suppose he had in Thebes, how many in Argos, how many in Athens, and how many new friends he gained as he was travelling around, considering that he would even take a wife when the moment seemed right to him, and father children; and these children he left them without lamentation or regret (οὐ στένων οὐδὲ ποθῶν), and without feeling that he was leaving them behind to be orphans; for he knew that no human being is an orphan (οὐδείς ἐστιν ἄνθρωπος ὀρφανός), but that all have a father who takes care of them constantly and for ever (πάντων ἀ[ι]εὶ καὶ διηνεκῶς ὁ πατήρ ἐστιν ὁ κηδόμενος). Because to him it was not merely a matter of hearsay that Zeus is the father of human beings (πατήρ ἐστιν ὁ Ζεὺς τῶν ἀνθρώπων), but he truly regarded him as his own father (αὑτοῦ πατέρα), and called him so, and looked to him in all that he did. That is why he was able to live happily wherever he was. (Epict. D. 3.24.15–16, trans. Hard, adapted) Heracles’ life and mission made it impossible for him to stay always at the same place and thus drove him away from his own children. But Heracles left them ‘without lamentation or regret’, says Epictetus, because he knew that human beings are god’s children and he himself regarded Zeus as his own father. Ultimately, it is because he truly believed that god was his father that he was able to go and contemplate the world and endure the hardship that this task demanded, without ever blaming god. The reason why it is so important, according to Epictetus, to convince oneself of being god’s offspring is because of the self-respect and dignity that it brings upon us. That is what he explains at the beginning of D. 1.3, a discourse specifically dedicated to that question23: T7-19 If only one could be properly convinced of this judgment (τῷ δόγματι), that we’re all first and foremost children of god (ὅτι γεγόναμεν ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ πάντες προηγουμένως), and that god is the father of both human beings and gods, I think one would never harbour any base or low (οὐδὲν ἀγεννὲς οὐδὲ ταπεινόν) thought about oneself (περὶ ἑαυτοῦ). (Epict. D. 1.3.1, trans. Hard, adapted)

208  Chapter 7 What Epictetus points out here is not simply that human beings are, by nature, noble (in the sense of being of noble birth) since they are children of god, but the effect that judging oneself as a son or daughter of god has upon oneself, namely, that one cannot harbour any base and low judgement about oneself anymore. This helps us understand that when Epictetus says (in T7-2 and T7-3) that people, even though they are aware of god and his providence, still remain ungrateful towards him because of their baseness, baseness here must ultimately refer, first of all, to the low consideration and lack of self-esteem those people have of themselves. The idea is not that they are really base, although they certainly can become so as a result of their lack of self-esteem,24 but that their low judgement about themselves impacts upon their general view of the world and leads them to be ungrateful even towards their benefactors, be they gods or simply other human beings. 1.2.3 Man’s nobility and how it is getting perverted By nature, says Epictetus, we are all ‘free (ἐλεύθεροι), noble-minded (γενναῖοι) and self-respecting (αἰδήμονες)’.25 We have already seen in what sense nobility entails self-respect, and we will soon find out (see T7-22) its essential connection with freedom. Other passages also emphasize the link between nobility and courage.26 Generally speaking, nobility refers to all that human beings have been provided with by god so that they can face any of those misfortunes that they are bound to meet with at some point in their life. It is Epictetus’ clearest answer to the challenge, expressed in T7-15, that the very existence of hardships is incompatible with genuine divine providence: T7-20 [You don’t] call a dog happy when it is neither on the hunt nor hard at work, but when you see it sweating, suffering, and broken by the chase. What is paradoxical in asserting, then, that for every being, what is bad (κακόν) for it is that which is contrary to its nature (τὸ παρὰ τὴν ἐκείνου φύσιν)? Is there any paradox in that? (…) But, when we say that the human being is by nature sociable, affectionate, and trustworthy, there surely isn’t anything paradoxical in that? — ‘No, that isn’t paradoxical either.’ — How is it, then, that a human being still suffers no harm (οὐ… βλάπτεται) when he is flogged, or thrown into prison, or decapitated? Isn’t it that if he bears that in a noble spirit (γενναίως πάσχει), he comes off with added profit and advantage (προσκερδαίνων καὶ προσωφελούμενος), while the person who is truly harmed, and suffers the most pitiful and shameful fate, is the one who, instead of being human, turns into a wolf, a viper, or a wasp? (Epict. D. 4.1.124–127, trans. Hard, adapted) What is bad is what is ‘contrary to nature’ (παρὰ φύσιν), that is, what corrupts a given nature and changes it into something worse. Hardships, in themselves, are not bad. On the contrary, they exist for the sake of human

Epictetus on providence  209 beings. They serve as materials for humans and their use is what makes humans happy. What is bad can only be that which causes human nature to turn into something worse, such as a wolf, a viper or the ‘base’ natures of foxes (see D. 1.3.7). We have already alluded to the important Stoic doctrine of the perversion or διαστροφή of human nature (see Chapter 2, section 5.3 and Chapter 3, section 3.2). According to that doctrine,27 the original source of evil can only come from outside the inherently good and beneficial nature of human beings. Two sources are distinguished by the Stoa: T7-21 (see already T2-22) The rational animal is perverted (διαστ­ρέφεσθαι), sometimes [a] because of the persuasiveness of external objects (ποτὲ μὲν διὰ τὰς τῶν ἔξωθεν πραγματειῶν πιθανότητας), sometimes [b] because of the influence of companions (ποτὲ δὲ διὰ τὴν κατήχησιν τῶν συνόντων). For the starting points provided by nature are unperverted (ἡ φύσις ἀφορμὰς δίδωσιν ἀδιαστρόφους). (D.L. 7.89 = SVF 3.228) The perversion of the rational nature of human beings is due to the influence of either [a] external objects or [b] the company of other people. Both have a power of persuasion that can affect our judgement and system of values. As to the first one, it leads human beings towards hedonism, taking pleasure to be good and pain to be bad.28 More generally, it leads to the belief that what is good and what is bad lie outside of us, in the form of external πράγματα. As to the other influence, it leads to valuing the doxa of the many, that is, the morality of the city in which one grows up,29 and therefore also to embracing everything that this doxa itself values, most of all good reputation. All in all, the two sources of perversion converge and lead human beings to value and praise what are in fact only ‘preferred indifferents’. To fight against the effects of the first source, Epictetus resorts to the Stoic doctrine of preconceptions expounded above (see T7-13 and T7-14, with commentary), explaining that one must first have ‘clear and well-polished’ preconceptions of good and bad,30 that is, preconceptions that have been properly articulated through instruction, before being in a position to safely apply them to external πράγματα. Against the effects of the second source of evil influence, he advises the use of vigilance or εὐλάβεια (one of the three Stoic cardinal good emotions) in our dealings with other people.31 From the following passage, it appears that Epictetus saw the influence of external things as the source of baseness: T7-22 Is health a good and illness an evil? No, man. What, then? Health is good when put to right use, and bad when put to bad use. ‘So it is possible to draw advantage even from illness?’ By god, isn’t it possible to draw advantage even from death? (…) Do you suppose that it was only some small benefit that Menoeceus gained through his death? (…) Didn’t he preserve his character as a patriot, and as one who was

210  Chapter 7 highminded, faithful, and noble-spirited (τὸν γενναῖον)? And if he’d survived, wouldn’t he have lost all of that? Wouldn’t he have acquired the opposite qualities? Wouldn’t he have assumed the character of a man who is cowardly (τὸν δειλὸν), base (τὸν ἀγεννῆ), and hates his country, and attaches too much importance to his own life? Come, do you think he gained little advantage from his death? (…) You must cease – I abjure you by the gods! – cease to admire the materials (τὰς ὕλας θαυμάζοντες), and cease to make yourselves slaves, in the first place, of things (δούλους… τῶν πραγμάτων), and then, on account of those things, of the persons who are able to procure them for you or take them away from you. (Epict. D. 3.20.4–8, trans. Hard, adapted) Neither illness nor death is bad since human nature is equipped with virtues that are precisely meant to be used in the case that one has to face those unfortunate events. The human nature is not made worse because of them. On the contrary, it is through them that the human nature can preserve itself, just like in the case of Menoeceus,32 who was able to preserve his moral excellences by dying nobly. Illness, death and the other dispreferred indifferents are not in themselves bad. What is bad is the false judgement that holds them to be bad, and that false judgement itself is the result, says Epictetus, of the admiration we have for external πράγματα. It leads humans to behave in a base and slavish manner: they surrender their natural freedom and ultimately submit themselves to other people who they believe are able to either procure those external objects for them or take them away from them.33 1.2.4 Prohairesis and reason’s self-assessment Let us try to better understand the peculiar mechanism at work behind this admiration and its effects. In T7-22, one notices that Epictetus uses the word ‘materials’ (ὗλαι) when he speaks of the external πράγματα. He is not referring to their material nature,34 though, but to their function. From another parallel text we learn that those materials are there for the sake of the faculty of choice or προαιρετικὴ δύναμις, so that this faculty can make use of them: T7-23 The essence of the good is a certain kind of choice (προαίρεσις ποιά), and that of the bad likewise. What are externals, then? Materials for our choice (ὗλαι τῇ προαιρέσει), which attains its own good or ill through the way in which it deals with them. How can it attain the good? By not admiring the materials (τὰς ὕλας μὴ θαυμάσῃ). For if its judgments (δόγματα) about the materials are correct (ὀρθά), that makes the choice good, whereas if they are twisted and perverse (διεστραμμένα), that makes it bad. Such is the law that god has laid down, saying, ‘If you want anything good, you must get it from yourself (παρὰ σεαυτοῦ),’ while you for your part say, ‘No, get it from elsewhere (παρ’ ἄλλου).’ (Epict. D. 1.29.1–4, trans. Hard, adapted)

Epictetus on providence  211 In Epictetus’ philosophy, the faculty of choice, often simply named ‘choice’ or προαίρεσις,35 refers to everything that is ‘in our power’,36 namely, desire or ὄρεξις (and its opposite, avoidance, ἔκκλισις), impulsion or ὁρμή (and repulsion, ἀφορμή) and judgement or ὑπόληψις. It covers the totality of psychic actions (ἔργα ψυχῆς)37 and thus also the true inner self of a human being. As a faculty, the function of προαίρεσις corresponds to the evaluative and deliberative capacity of reason which is at work in every judgement (δόγμα, ὑπόληψις) one makes. Any given practical judgement reflects a certain calculation that takes into account the value of external objects. In our passage, Epictetus shows that such a calculation is distorted and truly ‘perverted’ (cf. διεστραμμένα) by the admiration produced by external objects. The main consequence of that perversion is that it leads us to believe that what is good or bad lies outside of us, when it truly lies only inside of us. Indeed, as that is stated at the beginning of the text, ‘the essence of the good is a certain kind of choice (προαίρεσις ποιά), and that of the bad likewise’. The faculty of choice is not simply a faculty that assesses the value of external things but that its function implies the valuation of itself as well. This is shown by D. 2.23, a key text for the understanding of how προαίρεσις works. In this discourse, which is about the value one should give to our capacity of speech, Epictetus is led to spell out what makes the faculty of choice unique among all the capacities with which god has endowed human beings. The first thing he puts forward is that προαίρεσις is the only faculty that has the ability to make use of the other faculties: T7-24 Don’t be ungrateful, man, nor yet forgetful of better gifts than these, but offer up thanks to god for sight and hearing, and, by Zeus, for life itself and all that supports it, for dried fruits, for wine, for olive oil, remembering all the same that he has given you something better than all of these, the faculty that makes use of them (τὸ χρησόμενον αὐτοῖς), that tests them out (τὸ δοκιμάσον), that passes judgment on the value of each (τὸ τὴν ἀξίαν ἑκάστου λογιούμενον). (Epict. D. 2.23.5–6, trans. Hard, adapted) What makes the faculty of choice unique and superior is its core function, that of valuation (δοκιμάζειν): to determine the true value (ἄξια) of each thing by making use of it and testing it out. As Epictetus then proceeds to explain, προαίρεσις is what makes use of the other faculties, such as that of hearing or sight, as servants (διάκονοι): it knows when one should make use of them and when one should not, ‘when to open and close our eyes, and turns them away from those things that one should turn them away from’ (D. 2.23.9). But the faculty of choice does not assess the value of other faculties only. It is also what determines its own value: T7-25 And when this faculty [i.e. προαίρεσις] sees (ἰδοῦσα) that it stands among other faculties that are blind and deaf, unable to see (συνορᾶν)

212  Chapter 7 anything apart from those acts that they have been appointed to perform in its service and at its bidding (διακονεῖν ταύτῃ καὶ ὑπηρετεῖν), and when it that it alone can see clearly (αὐτὴ δὲ μόνη ὀξὺ βλέπει), and can embrace all the other faculties within its view (τάς τ’ ἄλλας καθορᾷ) and determine the value of each (πόσου ἑκάστη ἀξία), and itself as well (καὶ αὑτήν), is it likely that it will declare anything other than itself to be the best (τὸ κράτιστον)? (Epict. D. 2.23.11, trans. Hard, modified) Alluding to the contemplative capacity of reason we have discussed earlier (see T7-1 and the Section 1.1), Epictetus explains here that the ‘capacity to see’ of προαίρεσις provides it with ‘a view from above’ (he uses the verb καθοράω, literally ‘to look down upon’, which means here ‘to look at things from a higher perspective’)38 that allows it to embrace both the other faculties and itself and thus compare their respective value. Seeing that it alone has this universal capacity of valuation, προαίρεσις will naturally declare that it is itself the best of all faculties. Because of the natural superiority of προαίρεσις, there is also a hierarchical relation between it and the other faculties. They are at its service, like slaves (δοῦλαι, D. 2.23.7), and their natural function is to serve as accessories (πάρεργα), so that προαίρεσις can make a rational use of them: T7-26 The important thing is this: to leave each thing in the possession of its own specific faculty, and then to consider the value of that faculty, and to learn what is the most excellent of all things, and to pursue that in everything, and make it the chief object of one’s concern (περὶ τοῦτο ἐσπουδακέναι), regarding everything else as accessories (πάρεργα), yet without neglecting even those other things, so far as possible (κατὰ δύναμιν). For we must take care of our eyes too, though not as being the most excellent thing, but because of what is most excellent (διὰ τὸ κράτιστον): for it cannot attain its natural perfection (κατὰ φύσιν) unless it makes a rational use (εὐλογιστοῦν) of the eyes and chooses some things instead of others (τὰ ἕτερα παρὰ τὰ ἕτερα αἱρούμενον). (Epict. D. 2.23.34–35, trans. Hard, adapted) Faculties such as hearing or sight, which are not ‘in our power’,39 are like materials for προαίρεσις. They exist because of it, so that, through their use, it can attain and retain its natural state. Προαίρεσις is in its natural state when it makes choices that are rational (cf. εὐλογιστοῦν).40 A rational choice implies ‘to choose some things instead of others’, and this means that some of the things that are not in our power will have more value to us than others. Indeed, by nature, say the Stoics, some of the indifferent things are ‘preferred’ while others are ‘dispreferred’, and one should select the former since they have more value than the latter.41 Epictetus fully agrees with this Stoic orthodox doctrine and says, recalling Chrysippus’ words (see T6-29), that

Epictetus on providence  213 as long as the future is uncertain to me I always hold to those things which are better adapted to obtaining the things in accordance with nature [i.e. preferred indifferents]; for god himself has made me disposed to select these. But, a rational choice is not simply based on the amoral, if natural, value of externals. It also implies, in its calculation, the value one gives to the faculty of choice itself. For that choice to be truly ‘rational’, it must be made in the knowledge that the faculty of προαίρεσις is what has the most value. I may select a preferred indifferent if and only if that selection does not put at risk the preservation of my προαίρεσις in its natural condition. Now, when our judgements have been perverted and we are in a state of admiration with regard to external πράγματα, this has a direct effect on the way we make choices. We are not anymore in a position to make rational choices, because we give more value to indifferents than to our προαίρεσις. In that situation, we are selling our προαίρεσις for a cheap price, that is, we chose a preferred indifferent instead of our προαίρεσις, and accept that the latter falls into a non-natural state, that of the passions. 1.2.5 Baseness and ungratefulness We are now in a better position to understand why Epictetus sees baseness as the very cause of ‘reproaches and complaints against god’ (T7-2) and, generally speaking, of ungratefulness and impiety (T7-3). We have seen that προαίρεσις has the function of making use of other faculties and external things that are like materials to it (T7-23). By nature, προαίρεσις, that is, man’s reason, is a master and what it uses are its servants and slaves (T7-24): they exist for the sake of προαίρεσις, so that it can exercise its function of assessing the value of everything. For that function to be correctly done, προαίρεσις must see itself as that which has, objectively, the highest value. If it does, then it will recognize that, in case of some unfortunate events, nothing actually bad happens. Besides, it will look at those so-called misfortunes as occasions for it to preserve itself in its natural state, like Menoeceus in T7-22. As a consequence, when what a human being cares about the most is the preservation of his προαίρεσις in its natural state, he will never make any reproaches or be ungrateful: T7-27 Free from hindrance are those things that lie within the sphere of choice (τὰ προαιρετικά), while those that lie outside the sphere of choice (τὰ ἀπροαίρετα) are subject to hindrance. If somebody regards his own good and advantage as lying in the former alone, the things that are free from hindrance and within his own power, he’ll be free, contented, happy, invulnerable, magnanimous, reverent, and one who is grateful to god for everything, and never finds fault with anything that comes about, and never casts blame on anyone. (Epict. D. 4.7.8–9, trans. Hard)

214  Chapter 7 But we have seen that the human nature is perverted by the fascination for external things (T7-22). And this, now adds Epictetus, is what necessarily leads towards slavish, impious and base behaviour: T7-28 But if, on the other hand, he regards his good and advantage as lying in external things that lie outside the sphere of choice (ἐν τοῖς ἐκτὸς καὶ ἀπροαιρέτοις), he must inevitably be subject to constraint and hindrance, and be enslaved (δουλεύειν) to those who have power over the things that he admires and fears; and he must necessarily be impious (ἀνάγκη δ’ ἀσεβὲς) because he thinks that god is causing him harm, and be unjust because he will always be trying to secure more than his proper share, and he is bound to be base (ἀνάγκη δὲ καὶ ταπεινόν) and mean-spirited too. (Epict. D. 4.7.10–11, trans. Hard) Thus, the admiration for external things leads to a reversal of the hierarchy existing between προαίρεσις (or reason) and the rest: from master, it becomes a slave to what has in reality less value than itself. As a consequence, any external misfortune is seen as an actual bad event, the responsibility for which lies with the gods.

2 Providence, philostorgia and human societies 2.1 From parental love of children to philanthrôpia It is a fundamental characteristic of providence, in Stoicism, that it aims not simply at generating life, but at preserving it. Zeno’s craftsmanlike fire is responsible for ‘growth and preservation’ (T1-3). Seneca’s nature ‘produces her fruits and does not reject them’.42 Common to all animals, Panaetius claimed, is ‘the desire to unite for the purpose of procreation, and a certain care for those that are born’ (T4-13a). In Cicero’s On Ends, Cato (the spokesman for the Stoa) states that parental love for children or φιλοστοργία is the ‘starting point’ of human societies43: T7-29 Now the Stoics consider it important to realize that parents’ love for their children (liberi a parentibus amentur) arises naturally (natura fieri). [a] It is from this starting  point (a quo initio) that we trace the development, until its completion, of the common society of mankind. It should be immediately obvious from the shape and the parts of the human body that procreation is part of nature’s plan. [b] And it would hardly be consistent for nature to wish us to procreate (ut natura et procreari uellet) yet be indifferent as to whether our offspring are loved (et diligi procreatos non curaret). (…) [c] This is also the source from which arises the natural committal to the care of one another of all human beings (ex hoc nascitur ut etiam communis hominum inter homines

Epictetus on providence  215 naturalis sit commendatio), so that the very fact of being human requires that no human be considered a stranger to any other (Cic. Fin. 3.62–63 = SVF 3.340 and 57F1–2 L.-S., trans. R. Woolf, adapted) Cato makes it clear that the natural impulse of parents to love and care for their children is part of god’s providential plan [a], that of ensuring the preservation of mankind and also the fulfilment of the human telos, which is social and political in nature. He also explains [b] the rational coherence existing between bringing life and caring for what has been brought to life: it would be irrational to induce human beings to procreate and yet not grant them a strong and true love for what they have begotten; indeed, the survival of the newborn crucially depends on the affection and care of his or her parents (on top of his or her own self-love or οἰκείωσις to oneself).44 It is that love for another human being that initially paved the way, the Stoics say, towards the development of the first human societies [a] and the commendatio (the act of committing someone to the care of somebody else) of all human beings to one another [c]. Latin thinkers did not have a specific word for rendering the Greek term ‘φιλοστοργία’,45 but we can be confident that what the verb ‘amare’ used by Cicero translates is φιλοστοργεῖν (or simply στέργειν). Although the Stoics focused especially on the φιλοστοργία of parents for their children, they did not limit it to that particular relation. From the following passage, it appears that Chrysippus linked φιλοστοργία with the love of humanity or φιλανθρωπία: T7-30 Love of humanity (φιλανθρωπία), on which depends also affection (δι’ ἣν καὶ ἡ φιλοστοργία), [is] a friendly way to treat human beings (φιλικὴ χρῆσις ἀνθρώπων), and affection is a particular craftsmanship concerned with tender affection for friends and familiars (φιλοτεχνία τις οὖσα περὶ στέρξιν φίλων ἢ οἰκείων). (Clem. Strom. 2.9.41.6 = SVF 3.292) Φιλοστοργία is the type of tender affection that one has for one’s friends and familiars, people one knows and loves. But Chrysippus insists that it is dependent upon a much wider type of affection, that of φιλανθρωπία, which itself is concerned with treating as a friend any other human being. We have found that connection already expressed in our T7-29, where Cato explains [c] that seeing in any other human being a close relative rather than a stranger46 has ultimately its roots in the φιλοστοργία of parents for their children. By making φιλοστοργία dependent upon φιλανθρωπία, Chrysippus probably wanted to explain that φιλοστοργία is not limited to the intimate circle of friends and familiars, but rather refers to the affection between any human beings,47 when that affection is natural and non-perverted.

216  Chapter 7 2.2 Philostorgia as a natural affection Epictetus, as we are now going to see, was particularly interested in φιλοστοργία. In the discourse that is dedicated to that notion (D. 1.11), he explains how φιλοστοργία distinguishes itself from the unnatural and irrational emotion most parents have for their children and which they wrongly call ‘affection’.48 In D. 1.11, we find Epictetus discussing with a husband and father who says that family life is ‘miserable’.49 The man recalls that his younger daughter was recently very ill and that he was so upset at the idea of losing his child that he left her and did not come back until he was informed that she got better. The man says his reaction was a ‘natural’ one for a father, something which Epictetus immediately challenges: T7-31 ‘I was behaving naturally (Φυσικῶς),’ he said. But that is the very thing that you must convince me of, replied Epictetus, that you were behaving in accordance with nature, and I will then convince you that whatever is done in accordance with nature (κατὰ φύσιν) is rightly (ὀρθῶς) done. ‘That’s how all (πάντες) fathers feel,’ said the man, ‘or at least most (πλεῖστοι) do.’ I don’t dispute that, said Epictetus, but the point at issue between us is whether it’s right to feel like that. For in that case, one would have to say that tumours develop for the good of the body just because they do in fact develop, and, in a word, that to fall into error (τὸ ἁμαρτάνειν) is natural just because almost all of us (πάντες σχεδὸν), or at least most of us (πλεῖστοι), do fall into error. (Epict. D. 1.11.10–11, trans. Hard) In a world where human nature is almost (σχεδὸν) everywhere perverted, the universal (or almost universal) behaviour of people cannot serve as a criterion to determine what is natural. So, the incapacity of fathers to cope with their sick child does not make leaving alone a sick child a natural thing to do. What is natural has also to be right (ὀρθός), which is certainly not the case of the faulty behaviours caused by ignorant souls. For an affection to be truly ‘natural’, it must be ‘reasonable’ (εὐλόγιστον),50 says Epictetus (D. 1.11.19). Reason, for the Stoics, is above all a matter of consequentiality (see T3-27 with commentary). It would be inconsequent to attribute ‘affection’ and love to people who will leave us alone and helpless because of their affection for us. At that price, one would rather be loved by one’s enemies, says Epictetus, because they are the type of persons by whom one would want to be left alone (D. 1.11.26)! Leaving alone a weak and vulnerable child ‘by affection’ is unreasonable and unnatural. People act like this, explains Epictetus, because they think that the cause of their behaviour lies with the things that are outside of us (D. 1.11.28). As noted above (see T7-21), that is precisely the effect of the influence and fascination exerted on us by external things, one of the two sources

Epictetus on providence  217 of perversion (διαστροφή): these external πράγματα persuade us that what is good and what is bad are outside our control, and that persuasion has the effect of leaving us ‘miserable’ in the face of uncertainty about the fate of the people or the things we value most. But the effect of that perversion is not limited to our judgements. Those judgements (ὑπολήψεις, δόγματα) are the true cause of our behaviour (D. 1.11.33), and, when perverted, they lead us to actions (fleeing from one another) that are fundamentally detrimental to the natural bonds between human beings and, generally speaking, to society. 2.3 Epicurus’ anti-social views and the destruction of the city 2.3.1 Epicureanism as a perverted philosophy Epicureanism is Epictetus’ main target when it comes to defending the city from philosophical doctrines that are deemed to cause harm to it. Here is his damning verdict on the societal consequences of Epicureanism: T7-32 In god’s name, I ask you, can you imagine a city of Epicureans? (ἐπινοεῖς Ἐπικουρείων πόλιν;) ‘I shan’t marry.’ ‘Nor I, for one shouldn’t marry.’ ‘Nor should one have children; nor should one perform any civic duties.’ So what will happen, then? Where are the citizens to come from? Who’ll educate them? Who’ll be superintendent of the cadets? Who’ll be director of the gymnasium? And then, what will the young men be taught? What the Spartans were taught, or the Athenians? Take a young man, I ask you, and bring him up in accordance with your doctrines. Your doctrines are bad (πονηρά ἐστι τὰ δόγματα); they’re subversive of the city (ἀνατρεπτικὰ πόλεως), ruinous to families, and not fitting even for women! Give them up, man. (Epict. D. 3.7.19–20, trans. Hard) As reasons why he thinks Epicureanism is so harmful to human societies, Epictetus does not simply remind us of Epicurus’ well-known advice to not enter into politics (on which see supra T6-15).51 He also mentions Epicurus’ less familiar view that the sage should avoid getting married and having children.52 Given the importance parental affection for children has for the Stoics with regard to the constitution of human communities (T7-29), it is not a coincidence that Epictetus precisely attacks Epicurus’ advice to not have children, which he does also in another important passage, where he questions Epicurus’ motives: T7-33 [a] Even Epicurus perceives (ἐπινοεῖ) that we’re social beings by nature (φύσει ἐσμὲν κοινωνικοί), but [b] once he has placed our good in our bodily shell, he is no longer in a position to say anything that conflicts with that. [c] For he maintains forcefully, besides, that we should neither admire nor accept anything that is cut off from the nature of the good.

218  Chapter 7 And in that he is right (καὶ καλῶς αὐτοῦ κρατεῖ). [d] How is it, then, if we have no natural affection for our offspring (οἷς μὴ φυσικὴ ἔστι πρὸς τὰ ἔγγονα φιλοστοργία), that we get suspicious (ὑπονοητικοί) because you [Epicurus] seek to dissuade the wise person from rearing children? [e] Why are you afraid that he’ll suffer distress (λύπας) as a consequence? What does it matter to him, then, if a little mouse cries out in his house? [f] No, Epicurus knew (οἶδεν) that as soon as one has a small child (ἂν ἅπαξ γένηται παιδίον), it is no longer in our power not to love it and take care of it (οὐκέτι ἐφ’ ἡμῖν ἐστι μὴ στέργειν μηδὲ φροντίζειν ἐπ’ αὐτῷ). (Epict. D. 1.23.3–6, trans. Hard, modified) The initial ascription [a] to Epicurus of the thought that human beings are social ‘by nature’ (φύσει) is perplexing since it is contradicted by Epictetus himself, in another of his discourses,53 and in any case does not correspond to Epicurus’ doctrine. For what Epicurus thought was that human societies are the result of a social contract (see below commentary to T7-35). The best way to interpret that ascription, as suggested by Dobbin,54 is to read it as an anticipation of what Epictetus explains at the end of the passage [f], namely, that Epicurus, deep down, knew very well that parents cannot not have affection for their children. In Epictetus’ view, there is a deep inner struggle in Epicurus’ philosophy. Because he placed the human good into ‘our bodily shell’ rather than in our soul and mind,55 Epicurus is bound to give advice that is harmful to the social nature of human beings. And that is precisely the case of his seeking to dissuade the wise person from rearing children [d]. That advice clearly goes against the idea that human beings are social by nature but, at the same time, explains Epictetus, it shows that Epicurus actually knows that the affection for our children is natural: ‘as soon as one has a small child, it is no longer in our power not to love it and take care of it’. And it is because of that knowledge that Epicurus advised the sage not to marry or have children in the first place (as seen in T7-32). In T7-33, Epictetus’ explanation as to why Epicurus is self-contradicting is centred on Epicurus misplacing the good in the body rather than the soul [b]. It is a fundamental tenet of Epictetus’ thought that you cannot escape desiring to obtain what you see as your own good (ἴδιον ἀγαθόν): ‘Why would you refrain from pursuing your own good?’, he asks. ‘That’s foolish; it’s silly. No, even if you were to tell me that you do refrain from it, I won’t believe you’.56 The force of attraction of the good makes it impossible to refrain from trying to get it, and Epictetus actually acknowledges [c] that Epicurus rightly defended that point too. The problem is that Epicurus misplaced the good, putting it among the things that are not in our power, and that has necessarily anti-social consequences (see end of T7-28). But the error of Epicurus seems also to be similar to that of the anonymous father of D. 1.11 (see T7-31). For Epicurus appears to believe [e] that having to care for one’s children is ‘painful’ and would make the life of the

Epictetus on providence  219 sage miserable. So, although Epictetus says [f] that Epicurus (deep down) ‘knows’ that it is not possible not to love one’s child once it is born, it is clear that the reason why Epicurus is afraid to have to care for children is because he is in fact ignorant of the real nature of φιλοστοργία. Like the anonymous father and, according to the Stoics, almost any other adult human being, Epicurus looks at the affection for children as a potential source of distress and unhappiness. And the reason why that is so is precisely his misplacement of the good (and the bad). As explained by Epictetus in D. 1.11.28–29 and elsewhere, those people who, admiring external things, are persuaded that what is good (or bad) lies outside our power, give undue value to external πράγματα, including people. The distraught father who flees at the sight of his sick daughter does not have genuine φιλοστοργία for her because what he calls his affection for her is in reality an emotion that is distorted by a system of values that fails to recognize that it is the προαίρεσις alone that has the highest value (T7-23). Epictetus often reminds us of our mortality, and that includes the mortality of our children and partners. He emphasizes the need to train our desires and avoid wishing to always have – even when ‘it is not the season’ for them to exist – the things or people we love.57 They are not our possessions and they are meant to be returned to the one (god) who has lent them to us. We should therefore love them as such. All in all, Epicurus appears to have suffered from the same kind of perversion as the rest of humanity, which makes Epicureanism a reduplication of the διαστροφή that is caused by external πράγματα. That is actually what Epictetus says to an Imperial commissioner named Maximus,58 corrector of the free cities (διορθωτὴς τῶν ἐλευθέρων πόλεων),59 who happened to be an Epicurean: T7-34 You should seek out doctrines that are consistent with that [honourable] pattern of behaviour, and with those as your guide, you’ll abstain with pleasure (ἡδέως ἀφέξῃ) from the things that are so persuasive to us (πραγμάτων οὕτως πιθανῶν), and are liable to lead us astray and overpower us. But if, on the contrary, in addition to their persuasiveness (πρὸς τῇ πιθανότητι τῇ ἐκείνων), we should have devised some such philosophy as yours, which will help to propel us towards them (συνεπωθοῦσαν ἡμᾶς ἐπ’ αὐτὰ) and give them added strength (καὶ ἐπιρρωννύουσαν), what will come of that? (Epict. D. 3.7.22–23, trans. Hard, adapted) The vocabulary here used by Epictetus clearly recalls the one found in the Stoic account of the first source of perversion (see T7-21), which states that ‘the rational animal is perverted (…) because of the persuasiveness of external objects’. Epicureanism, rather than trying to ‘correct’60 our perverted judgements about the good and the affection for our children and other fellow human beings, is adding renewed strength to them. That explains why Epicurean philosophy is considered such a threat by Epictetus in his Discourses.

220  Chapter 7 2.3.2 Why did Epicurus care? Or on the indomitable force of nature For Epictetus, Epicurus’ misplacement of the good led him and his followers to many self-contradictions. But the most important and evident one, he says, is that which concerns Epicurus’ rejection of the naturality of human societies: T7-35 And Epicurus likewise, when he wants to destroy (ἀναιρεῖν) the natural community that human beings together (τὴν φυσικὴν κοινωνίαν ἀνθρώποις πρὸς ἀλλήλους), makes use of the very thing that he is destroying. What does he say, then? ‘Don’t be deceived, man, don’t allow yourself to be led astray, or be mistaken; there is no natural community that human beings together. Believe me. Those who say otherwise are deceiving you and misleading you with false arguments.’ Why is it that you care, then? (τί οὖν σοι μέλει;) Let us be deceived. (…) Why do you worry about us, man; why write such lengthy books? (Epict. D. 2.20.6–9, trans. Hard, adapted) Epicurus did not believe in the naturality of human societies. Human beings, in his view, do not naturally tend to gather together and form communities. Human societies are rather the result of a social contract (συνθήκη) whereby human beings accept not to harm one another and receive the protection of the system of justice against being harmed by others.61 Still, says Epictetus, Epicurus’ actions, as a philosopher, show that he did care for his human fellows: their fate mattered to him so much so that he composed lengthy books to warn them against what he thought were harmful views. Why did Epicurus care so much? Where does this affection for other human beings come from? It is nature that compelled him to do so, says Epictetus: T7-36 What was it, then, that awakened Epicurus from his slumbers and impelled (ἀναγκάζον) him to write what he did? What else than what is most powerful of all in human beings (τὸ πάντων τῶν ἐν ἀνθρώποις ἰσχυρότατον), nature, who drags everyone to her will, groan and resist though he may (ἕλκουσα ἐπὶ τὸ αὑτῆς βούλημα ἄκοντα καὶ στένοντα). ‘For since you hold these antisocial views (ταῦτα τὰ ἀκοινώνητα),’ she says, ‘write them down and hand them on to others, and stay awake at night because of them, and so become, through your own practice, the denunciator of your own doctrines.’ (Epict. D. 2.20.15–16, trans. Hard, adapted) The Stoics famously depicted the indomitable power of nature and fate through the image of a dog tied to a moving cart: whether it wants it or not, the dog will necessarily follow the cart.62 That image was also used to

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explain how one can still be free in a world governed by fate, namely, by understanding and willing what god wills. Epictetus clearly refers to that image here when he presents Epicurus being ‘dragged’ against his will by the will of nature. By doing so, he puts that image to a rather original use, depicting the power of nature as a force for good which aims to help perverted minds denouncing themselves by falling into blatant self-contradiction. It is also a way for him to assure us that there is no judgement so perverted that nature could not overpower, which is a testimony to the force of providence63: T7-37 So mighty and so invincible (οὕτως ἰσχυρόν τι καὶ ἀνίκητόν) is human nature (ἡ φύσις ἡ ἀνθρωπίνη)! For how can a vine be moved to act, not like a vine, but like an olive tree? Or an olive tree in turn, not like an olive tree, but like a vine? That’s impossible, inconceivable. Neither is it possible, then, for a human being to lose his human af fections (τὰς κινήσεις τὰς ἀνθρωπικὰς) altogether, and even men who are castrated can’t have their desires as men entirely cut off. And so it was with Epicurus: he cut off everything that characterizes the man, the head of a household, the citizen, the friend, but he didn’t cut off the desires (τὰς δὲ προθυμίας) that are truly and properly human; for he couldn’t do that.’ (Epict. D. 2.20.18–20, trans. Hard, adapted) Human beings have been endowed with the highest of natures: reason. And reason, as explained earlier (see in particular Chapter 4, section 5), is fundamentally social and political: it aims at the creation of human societies, ‘recommending one man to another for the constitution of a community of speech and of life’ (T4-13c). The active presence of nature and providence in human beings never ceases to govern them and to try to lead them towards happiness, even in such an apparently desperate case as that of Epicurus. Although, with his doctrines, he ‘want[ed] to destroy the natural community that human beings together’ (T7-35), Epicurus could not help but feel affection and love for other fellow human beings, which is a natural feeling for any human being to have. And that is why he went out of his way to go and advise them and teach them a way to achieve happiness.64

Notes 1 My translation is here voluntarily more neutral than what the text suggests. I will return to that passage shortly. 2 See in particular D. 1.5.8–9 where the verb συνοράω refers to ‘seeing’ a contradiction. 3 On the meaning of παρακολούθησις in this context, see remarks in Long 2002: 175. 4 See Stob. Ecl. 2.86.17–87.6 = SVF 3.169 and 53Q L.-S. See also the discussion of the relevant fragments by Ildefonse 2011: 5–13. 5 On this specific expression, see especially Bénatouïl 2009b: 102–107. 6 See Cic. Luc. 30 = 40N1 L.-S. 7 See also D. 1.6.17: ‘So where a being’s constitution is adapted for use alone, mere use suffices; but where a being also has the capacity to understand that use,

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unless that capacity be properly exercised (τὸ κατὰ τρόπον) in addition, he will never attain his end’ (trans. Hard). For instance: ‘the capacity to view each particular event in relation to the whole’ (Hard), ‘individual events in the context of the whole’ (Dobbin). William Oldfather’s translation is more accurate and neutral: ‘the faculty of taking a comprehensive view of what has happened to each individual instance’. That includes also what Epictetus calls ‘πάρεργα’ or incidental effects of nature (1.16.9–14), that is, products of nature that do not seem, at the first sight, to serve a useful purpose. The ‘hairs on the chin’, he holds, actually have a purpose: they have been given by god as practical signs for distinguishing between man and woman. On this, see Dobbin 2008: 160. On this, see T5-7 [f], a passage that likely reflects Posidonius’ thought. On the reflexivity of reason in Epictetus, see D. 1.20 and the analysis of Long 2002: 129–136. We should note here that the Stoics put great emphasis on the difference between simply possessing reason (in the sense of a faculty) and actually using it. See Bénatouïl 2006: 67, 99 and 114 on the fact that the Stoics usually refrain from speaking of a wrong kind of use of reason and simply prefer underlining the absence of use of reason by ignorant people. Epictetus’ approach to what he calls ‘the capacity to see’ or ‘the faculty of understanding’ (i.e. reason) is thus fully in line with orthodox Stoicism. See Millar 1965: 144, for who that visitor might be. Epict. D. 2.14.22, trans. Hard, slightly modified. See D. 1.22. Ps.-Plutarch, Placita 4.11.900B = Aëtius, Placita 4.11.1, p. 1591 M.-R. and 39E3 L.-S. Whether Epictetus is defending natural conceptions as properly innate ones is a matter of debate. See Gourinat 2017: 80, n. 1, who thinks that ‘[i]n any case, even if Epictetus laid some rudiments of innatism, he did not clarify much his thought’ (my translation). On that question, see especially Jackson-McCabe 2004, I. Hadot 2014, and the analysis of Long 2002: 80–82. See also supra Chapter 2, section 5. See D.L. 7.60 = FDS 621. On this distinction, see Gourinat 2000: 51–54. See Aug. De civ. Dei 8.7 = SVF 2.106 and 32F L.-S. On the Stoic doctrine of articulation or διάρθρωσις, see Collette-Dučić 2020. See D. 4.1.10. As already recalled, the full title of that essay is Why Some Misfortunes Happen to Good Men, though Providence Exists. On the father-son relationship between god and humans in Epictetus, see the remarks by Algra 2007: 47. Its title is How, From the Idea that God is the Father of Human Beings, One May Proceed to What Follows. That is what Epictetus goes on to explain at the end of D. 1.3, depicting those people who incline towards their mortal part as becoming like ‘wolves, p erfidious, treacherous, noxious creatures; or others like lions, wild, savage, and untamed creatures; or in most cases like foxes, or something even more ignominious and low (ταπεινότερον)’ (trans. Hard, adapted). See also T7-20. D. 3.7.27, trans. Hard. I have kept Hard’s translation of αἰδήμονες by ‘self-respecting’, because of the context, but the word could also be rendered by ‘reserved’. See for instance D. 4.1.109. On that doctrine see Bénatouïl 2007: 113–125, Laurand 2014: 39–42 and Laurand 2017. See Gal. PHP 5.5.19 = 65M7 L.-S. and Calc. In Tim. 165 = SVF 3.229. For the link between that first source of perversion and hedonism, see below T7-34.

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On which see especially Sen. Ep. 94.54–55, and Ot. 1.3. D. 1.27. D. 3.16. Menoeceus sacrificed himself to save his homeland, Thebes. See D. 1.2.12 ff. where Epictetus recalls the case of one senator named Florus, who ponders the risks of refusing to go on a stage in order to please Nero and the reaction of Stoic Agrippinus who does not even entertain this calculation and refuses to ‘lower’ himself. I have not followed Robin Hard’s translation (‘what is purely material’) here. On προαίρεσις in Epictetus, see especially Dobbin 1991, Long 2002: 210–220 and Gourinat 2005b. See in particular D. 1.22.10: ‘Within our power (ἐφ’ ἡμῖν) lie choice and all actions that depend on our choice (προαίρεσις καὶ πάντα τὰ προαιρετικὰ ἔργα), whereas our body and every part of it are not in our power, and likewise our possessions, parents, brothers and sisters, children, country, and, in short, everyone with whom we associate’ (trans. Hard, adapted). See D. 4.11.6. The view from above is synonymous here with an objective point of view, one that is not biased by relativity. We have seen that it is presented by Panaetius as a distinctive feature of reason: see T4-13b with commentary. See D. 2.23.19, where it is stated that they can be obstructed by external things. Epictetus’ choice of word is reminiscent of Diogenes of Babylon’s definition of the telos: ‘Reasoning well (εὐλογιστεῖν) in the selection and disselection of things in accordance with nature (ἐν τῇ τῶν κατὰ φύσιν ἐκλογῇ καὶ ἀπεκλογῇ)’. Cf. Stob. Ecl. 2.76.9–10 = SVF 3.Diog.44 and 58K1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley. The Stoics insisted that the telos of human beings does not simply consist in successfully selecting (e.g. being healthy) or disselecting (e.g. avoiding illness) a preferred or dispreffered indifferent, but in the rational choice presiding over those actions. See especially Cato’s explanation in Cic. Fin. 3.22 = SVF 3.18, 3.497 and 64F L.-S. See Stob. Ecl. 2.79.18–80.13 = SVF 3.140 and 58C L.-S. Sen. Ep. 121.18. On this passage, see Kühn 2011: 333–335. On οἰκείωσις and its relation to providence, see Chapter 9 and Chapter 10, sections 3.2 and 4. See Aubert 2011 and Roskam 2011: 178–184. According to Kühn 2011: 338, the expression used by Cato implies that it includes both neutral and amicable relationships between human beings, but I do not think that is in the spirit of what is meant. See Aubert 2011: 7. In D. 1.11, although the word φιλοστοργία (or the verb στέργειν) is in general used in reference to the parents’ love for their children, it is by no means limited to that particular relation. See in particular D. 1.11.25–26. D. 1.11 is discussed in Salles 2012. For that choice of word, see supra T7-26, with note. See D.L. 10.119, and Epic. SV 58 = 22D L.-S. See D.L. 10.119, with the emendation defended in Brennan 1996: ‘Nor, again, will the wise marry and rear children. But sometimes, in exceptional circumstances, certain sages will marry and rear children (κατὰ περίστασιν δέ ποτε βίου γαμήσειν καὶ δία τραπήσεσθαί τινας)’. On marriage and children in Epicurus, see Brennan 1996, who also discusses previous scientific literature. According to his interpretation, ‘Epicurus advised against marriage and child-rearing for the most part, but permitted it in exceptional cases’ (Brennan 1996: 348–349). See also Dobbin 2008: 196–197. On Epicureanism and parental love, see McConnel 2017 and 2018.

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53 D. 2.20.6–7. 54 See Dobbin 2008: 195. 55 Epicurean ἀταραξία includes both psychological and sensorial pleasures, but Epictetus may have in mind passages where Epicurus emphasized the importance of bodily pleasures, such as the following one, from his On the End: For my part I cannot conceive of anything as the good if I remove the pleasures perceived by means of taste and sex and listening to music, and the pleasant motions felt by the eyes through beautiful sights, or any other pleasures which some sensations generates in a man as a whole. (Cic. Tusc. 3.41 = 21L L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) 56 Epict. D. 3.7.14, trans. Hard, modified. 57 See especially Epict. D. 3.24.84–87 and Ench. 3 and 11. On these texts, see Stephens 1996: 201–204 and Stephens 2014: 5–6. However, I disagree with Stephens’ characterization of Epictetus’ training as a way to ‘restrain one’s natural affection and stop the feeling of love from intensifying into an uncontrollable pathos’ (Stephens 1996: 202, my emphasis): φιλοστοργία is an affection that is both natural and ‘reasonable’ (D. 1.11.19); unrestrained affection for loved ones is not only unreasonable, for Epictetus, but also unnatural. 58 It is now generally accepted (see Millar 1965: 142 and Syme 1988: 446–447) that this Maximus was a friend of Pliny the Younger and one of his addressees (see in particular Pliny the Younger’s Letter 8.24). 59 The official Latin title is corrector ciuitatium liberarum. 60 Marcus Aurelius calls the correction of perverted judgements a διόρθωσις (see M.A. Med. 1.7.1 and 1.15.8). Although that word (with that meaning) is not found in what is left of Epictetus’ Discourses, Epictetus would have certainly found it ironic that an Epicurean could be called a ‘corrector’ or διορθωτής, let alone a corrector of a free city. 61 See especially Epic. KD 31–35 = 22A L.-S. 62 Hipp. Ref. 1.21.2 = SVF 2.975 and 62A L.-S. For another use of that image, see also supra T6-27, with commentary. 63 Epictetus’ views seem here more in line with Chrysippus’ than with Cleanthes’. We have seen, in Chapter 2 (section 5), that Chrysippus granted human ἀφορμαί (starting points, innate resources) with a power strong enough to lead human beings towards happiness, whereas Cleanthes emphasizes their incompleteness. 64 In D. 3.7.18, where he discusses with the Epicurean Maximus, Epictetus explains that Epicureans have perverted doctrines, but act virtuously: For we [the Stoics] too speak in one way and act in another; we talk of what is fine and noble, but do what is shameful, while you [an Epicurean] suffer from the opposite perversion (τὴν ἐναντίαν διαστροφήν), laying down shameful doctrines (δογματίζων τὰ αἰσχρά) but acting nobly (ποιῶν τὰ καλά) (Trans. Hard, adapted)

8

Marcus Aurelius on providence

Marcus Aurelius (121–180 A.D.) refused to see himself as a philosopher, not because he was not one, but because he looked at philosophy either as a professional activity that his work as an emperor made impossible for him or as a moral excellence which he thought he did not have.1 Still, he ‘desired philosophy’,2 that is, he strove to live ‘according to nature’,3 and he embraced Stoicism, which he was trained into by Stoic teachers and friends, in particular ‘Apollonius [of Chalcedon], [Junius] Rusticus and [Claudius] Maximus’.4 Although his Stoicism is generally thought to be unoriginal (which I think is not completely fair an assessment, see infra), his Meditations shows that he was well trained in Stoic doctrines and that he was particularly interested in the study and understanding of divine providence.

1 The perfection of the world and its compatibility with evil 1.1 God’s will and its necessary consequences In the first three chapters, we have seen that, during the early phases of the existence of the Stoa, the one major disagreement within the school relative to divine providence was about whether providence and fate should be thought to be coextensive and therefore be names of one and the same reality, namely god. Zeno held that everything that happens according to providence also happens according to fate, and vice versa. As a consequence, ‘providence’ and ‘fate’ must be accepted as suitable names for ‘the motive power of matter’ that is god (see T1-1). Cleanthes objected: some things at least – what ‘bad people do in their folly’ – while happening according to fate, cannot be said to also happen according to providence; god should not be held responsible for them (see T2-17 and T2-18). But Cleanthes’ stance had one major issue: it contradicted the doctrine of the Stoa according to which everything in the world is ultimately reducible to one cause, and one only: god or reason. For, if some things (the evil doings of bad people) are said to happen according to fate but not according to god’s providence, then those things cannot be linked to god and god cannot be said to be the cause of everything. Finally, Chrysippus, who wanted to preserve both Zeno’s doctrine and the central idea that god or reason is the DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-8

226  Chapter 8 cause of everything, introduced the distinction between god’s will and the necessary (but not willed) consequences that follow upon that will. While god’s primary intention (principale consilium) is always directed at the good and the advantageous, it can also sometimes have necessary consequences (sequellae necessariae) that are apparently unfortunate. Those, he said, happen κατὰ παρακολούθησιν (T3-21). Marcus Aurelius appears to be well aware of Chrysippus’ solution to the problems raised by the existence of evils (or apparent evils) in the world and he clearly fully endorses it himself: T8-1 All things come from there, either arising from the common ruling center (ἀπ’ ἐκείνου τοῦ κοινοῦ ἡγεμονικοῦ ὁρμήσαντα), or else as a consequence (κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν). Thus, even the gaping jaws of a lion, and poison, and every noxious thing (πᾶσα κακουργία), from a thistle to a quagmire, are by-products of what is venerable and noble (ἐπιγεννήματα τῶν σεμνῶν καὶ καλῶν). Do not suppose, then, that these are alien (ἀλλότρια) to what you revere, but direct your thoughts to the source of everything (τὴν πάντων πηγήν). (M.A. Med. 6.36, trans. Hard, adapted) While Marcus prefers speaking of things happening κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν rather than κατὰ παρακολούθησιν, his account is very much faithful to Chrysippus’ account. Like him, he wants to show that everything ultimately comes from one unique cause (the ‘source of everything’), which he calls the ‘common ruling center’ of the world, namely, god’s reason. It includes also things that are ‘noxious’ (κακουργία) to human beings, such as poison or thistle. Although they are not directly caused by god (who did not have the intention or will of creating them), they are indirectly connected to god as ‘by-products’ (ἐπιγεννήματα), that is, as necessary consequences of his will. Marcus’ point here is that we should not try – like Cleanthes did – to dissociate these things from god because of their apparent incompatibility with god’s providence; on the contrary, he says, they are not ‘alien’ (ἀλλότρια) to him, since they are necessary consequences of his will. Now, in the context of the Meditations, which are spiritual exercises aimed at his own moral well-being, Marcus’ encouragement not to look at those by-products as ‘alien’ to god must have a further meaning, moral in kind. It is not enough for us to recognize that Marcus sided with Chrysippus and accepted the view that ‘evils’ in the world are compatible with (not alien to) god’s providence. We must also try to figure out why, from a moral perspective, such a thing actually matters. The answer is given in another of Marcus’ thoughts, where we see him explaining that those apparent unfortunate things that exist in the world should not be thought of as ‘alien’ to us: T8-2 [a] [E]ven the by-products (καὶ τὰ ἐπιγινόμενα) of what happens by nature (τοῖς φύσει γινομένοις) have a certain charm and attractiveness

Marcus Aurelius on providence  227 (ἔχει τι εὔχαρι καὶ ἐπαγωγόν). [b] Bread, for instance, in the course of its baking, tends to crack open here and there, and yet these very cracks, which, in a sense, refute what the baker’s art promises (παρὰ τὸ ἐπάγγελμα τῆς ἀρτοποιίας), somehow appeal to us and, in a curious way, promote our appetite for the food. [c] And again figs, when fully ripe, tend to split open; and in olives which are ready to drop, the very fact of their impending decay lends a peculiar beauty to the fruit. [d] And ears of corn bending towards the earth, and the wrinkled brows of a lion, and the foam dripping from the jaws of a wild boar, and many other things are far from beautiful if one views them in isolation (κατ’ ἰδίαν εἴ τις σκοποίη), but nevertheless, the fact that they are consequences of what happens by nature (διὰ τὸ τοῖς φύσει γινομένοις ἐπακολουθεῖν) gives them an added beauty and makes them attractive to us. [e] So if a person is endowed with sensibility and has a deep enough insight into the workings of the universe, he will find scarcely anything which fails to please him in some way by its presence, even among those that happen as consequences (καὶ τῶν κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν συμβαινόντων). Such a person will view the gaping jaws of wild beasts in their physical reality with no less pleasure than the portrayals of them displayed by painters and sculptors, and he will be able to see in an old woman or old man a special kind of mature beauty, and to look on the youthful charms of his slave boys with chaste eyes. [f] And one could cite many similar examples, which will not seem persuasive to everyone, but will only strike home with those who are genuinely familiar (γνησίως ᾠκειωμένῳ) with nature and all her works. (M.A. Med. 3.2, trans. Hard, adapted) The wrinkled brows of a lion or the foam dripping from the jaws of a wild boar [d] are ‘by-products of what happens by nature’ [a], that is, side effects or necessary consequences of natural processes. What they have in common is their repulsiveness: like the poison or thistle of the previous text, they generally provoke repulsion in human beings. Not always, though. To people endowed with sensibility and knowledge of the workings of the universe [e], they actually look beautiful and attractive, like the cracks on the top of a loaf of bread [b]: those cracks, explains Marcus, in a way ‘refute what the baker’s art promises’, since they do not appear to have been ‘willed’ by that art, but at the same time they make the bread even more appealing and thus promote our appetite towards it. Similarly, in the case of by-products with a repulsive look, they only trigger repulsion in people who are ignorant of the workings of nature and view things ‘in isolation’ [d]. In the eyes of the students of nature, though, they appear for what they are: necessary consequences without which the natural process they accompany would not be possible. They are, in a way, like the inevitable decay of a fruit [c]: it is a necessary part of the fruit’s life, and, at the same time, it ‘lends a peculiar beauty to the fruit’ and makes it more appealing. So, not only are

228  Chapter 8 the by-products of nature ‘not alien’ to god (T8-1), they also ‘strike home with those who are genuinely familiar with nature and all her works’ [f]. 1.2 A familiar world In order to fully understand the importance of that last conclusion, one must first notice the vocabulary used by Marcus: ‘having an impulse’, being not ‘alien to’, being ‘genuinely familiar with’ are expressions that belong to the Stoic doctrine of οἰκείωσις or familiarization (on which see especially T4-13a-c and Chapters 9 and 10). Familiarization is that inner tendency that gives animals a means of distinguishing between what is good (in the broad sense of being advantageous, beneficial) and what is bad (in the opposite sense) for them. Being embedded in their impulses, it is active in all human beings from their birth until their death. But the arrival of reason and, most of all, the acquisition of knowledge transform the way human beings look at what, until then, they took as familiar or, on the contrary, alien.5 Although Marcus refers only rarely to the figure of the sage (σοφός, σπουδαῖος), the links he makes between knowledge and familiarization shows that he endorses, like the early Stoics, the doctrine according to which ‘nothing is alien to the sage’.6 Knowledge, by making us understand the natural and necessary process that is at work behind any event, makes everything, including the unfortunate by-products, familiar to us: T8-3 Bear in mind that, as it would be absurd to find it strange (ξενίζεσθαι) that a fig tree produces figs, it is just as absurd to find it strange that the world gives birth to the fruits which it bears by its very nature; and likewise, it would be a poor thing for a doctor or a ship’s captain to find strange (ξενίζεσθαι) that a patient had developed a fever or if an adverse wind blew up. (M.A. Med. 8.16, trans. Hard, adapted) The passage is remarkable because it presents a natural outcome (figs produced by fig trees) and a malady (fever) as equally natural and expected. That does not mean that Marcus confuses the two: we have seen that, like Chrysippus, he distinguishes by-products from the natural process they necessarily accompany. But by-products have their causes too, and the knowledge of these causes makes their happening completely familiar and ‘non strange’. So, for instance, if a human being does something wrong, it is because he is morally sick and his bad actions are therefore only to be expected: T8-4 With everyone you meet, begin at once by asking yourself, ‘What beliefs (τίνα δόγματα) does this person hold on human goods and ills?’ For if he holds particular views on pleasure and pain and the causes of each, and on reputation and disrepute, and life and death, it will not seem extraordinary or strange (θαυμαστὸν ἢ ξένον) to me if he acts in

Marcus Aurelius on providence  229 some particular way, and I shall remember that he is compelled to act as he does (ἀναγκάζεται οὕτως ποιεῖν). (M.A. Med. 8.15, trans. Hard, adapted) As we shall see in detail later (see infra section 3.2), Marcus agrees with the basic Stoic view that true evils are a matter of ignorant judgements. Therefore, if somebody acts badly, his actions are the direct and necessary products of his incorrect beliefs (δόγματα). Once we know what those beliefs are, the bad actions in question, even when they are directed at us, do not appear ‘strange’ or ‘alien’ to us anymore. On the contrary, they become ‘familiar’, which means that we are not upset by them. That familiarity, in turn, makes those people who do bad things dear to us, for we understand, as Marcus says, that they are in a sense ‘compelled’ to act the way they do. If anything, they deserve our understanding and help: T8-5 You are angry with a man if he smells of stale sweat, or has bad breath? What good will it do you? He has such a mouth, he has such armpits; and being as they are, such exhalations are bound to arise from them (ἀνάγκη τοιαύτην ἀποφορὰν ἀπὸ τοιούτων γίνεσθαι). ‘Yes, but the man is endowed with reason, and if he would only think, he could recognize his fault.’ Gracious me, you have reason too, so set his powers of reason to work by making use of your own! Show him his fault, call it to his attention; for if he listens, you will cure him, and there will be no need for anger. (M.A. Med. 5.28, trans. Hard, adapted) For a Stoic, the fact that bad people are bound to do ill does not eliminate their responsibility for their actions,7 but it helps us understand that they are, in a way, acting against their will, and, because of that, they deserve our help, through instruction or other means (see infra T8-32b). All in all, knowledge is what helps us not to feel like a stranger in the world, which is our true homeland, says Marcus.8 1.3 Nature and the necessity of evil In Chapter 3, we have seen that Chrysippus defends the view that it is not possible for evils not to exist in the world, and that he explains it by resorting to the rule that opposites cannot exist separately from one another (T3-17a). From the following passage, it seems that Marcus agreed with him: T8-6 Whenever you are shocked by anyone’s impudent behaviour, ask yourself at once, ‘Is it then possible that there should be no impudent people in this world? (δύνανται οὖν ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ ἀναίσχυντοι μὴ εἶναι;)’ It is quite impossible. So you should not demand the impossible: this person is one of those impudent people who must necessarily exist in the

230  Chapter 8 world (οὓς ἀνάγκη ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ εἶναι). And keep this argument at hand for when you meet a rogue, a traitor, or any other kind of villain (παντὸς τοῦ ὁτιοῦν ἁμαρτάνοντος); for as soon as you remind yourself that the class of such persons cannot fail to exist (ἀδύνατόν ἐστι μὴ ὑπάρχειν), you will view them more kindly (εὐμενέστερος) as individuals. (M.A. Med. 9.42, trans. Hard, adapted) Contrary to what we have found in the three previous passages, Marcus does not remain content here with explaining that evil actions must necessarily occur when their causes obtain. He also states that it is simply not possible for bad people not to exist at all: ‘they must necessarily exist in the world’. He gives no particular explanation, though. However, since Chrysippus explained the inseparability of moral evil from moral good in the world by means of his doctrine of ‘necessary consequences’ (T3-23), which Marcus himself fully endorses (T8-1 and T8-2), then it is likely that Marcus agreed with Chrysippus that moral evils must necessarily exist in the world if there is also moral goodness, for an opposite cannot exist alone. If it is not possible for vice not to exist in the world, and if vice is caused by ignorance or false judgement (see infra T8-20), where does this cause come from? In the previous chapter, we have seen that Epictetus’ account of the origin of evil makes evil the result of a perversion (διαστροφή) of the human nature. That perversion is the result of influences that are external to nature and affect us during our childhood, when our reason is not yet fully constituted. However, that explanation, originally worked out by Chrysippus and generally accepted by the Stoics (T7-21), was not left unchallenged in the Stoa, and Posidonius, we are told, rejected it: T8-7 Posidonius doesn’t think either that vice comes in afterwards from outside (ἔξωθεν ἐπεισιέναι) to human beings, without a root of its own in our souls (ἰδίαν ῥίζαν ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς ἡμῶν), starting from which it sprouts and grows big, but the very opposite: yes, there is a seed even of evil in our own selves (εἶναι γὰρ καὶ τῆς κακίας ἐν ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς σπέρμα). (Gal. Quod animi mores 820 = Posidonius F35 E.-K., trans. Kidd, adapted) According to Galen, one of the reasons why Posidonius rejected Chrysippus’ account is that it could not explain why, even with the best education, children would not necessarily and ‘naturally’ grow morally good.9 He concluded that if vice could grow and settle in the absence of external bad influences, then the ‘seed’ of it must be thought to be internal to human nature. Apparently, Posidonius used the word εὐεμπτωσία to refer to ‘proneness to disease’,10 and Galen reports that he used that word in one of his criticisms of Chrysippus.11 It is therefore possible that he used that type of vocabulary to describe the proclivity of human nature to fall into vice.

Marcus Aurelius on providence  231 From the following passage, one can see that Marcus, once again, sided with Chrysippus on this issue: T8-8 Every part of the whole, everything that is naturally contained in the world, must necessarily perish (φθείρεσθαι). But the word ‘to perish’ must be understood here in the sense of ‘being changed’ (ἀλλοιοῦσθαι). Now if this were naturally a bad thing (φύσει κακόν) for the parts as well as being a necessity (ἀναγκαῖόν), the world would not be well led (καλῶς διεξάγοιτο), considering that all its parts are subject to change and have been constituted to perish in a variety of ways. Could it be that nature herself would have undertaken to bring evil to her own parts, and made them such that they were not only prone to fall into a bad state (περιπτωτικὰ τῷ κακῷ) but necessarily would fall into it (ἐξ ἀνάγκης ἔμπτωτα εἰς τὸ κακόν)? Or could this have come about without her noticing it (ἔλαθεν)? Both proposals are equally incredible (ἀπίθανα). (M.A. Med. 10.7.1–3, trans. Hard, adapted) The point of the argument is to convince oneself that the perishable nature of the parts of nature –which include human beings – is not in itself something bad, and that we should not take death, and our death in particular, as something bad that must be dreaded and avoided at all cost. For that, the argument presents universal nature as a rational and benevolent force whose objective is the good governance of the world. As Marcus explains elsewhere, the changes that occur at the level of the parts are necessary for the world to ‘remain forever young’: T8-9 All that you now see will be changed in no time at all by the nature that governs the whole (ἡ τὰ ὅλα διοικοῦσα φύσις), and from its substance she will make new things, and from their substance new things again, to keep the world forever young (ἵνα ἀεὶ νεαρὸς ᾖ ὁ κόσμος). (M.A. Med. 7.25, trans. Hard, adapted) So, change is necessary for the world to stay alive, and nature’s providential task is directed first and foremost at the world as a whole.12 Therefore, the changes that occur at the level of the parts are not only necessary, they must also be thought of as good. It would be incoherent, explains Marcus in T8-8, to say that such a nature would seek ‘to bring evil to her own parts’ and hold that she would make them not only ‘prone to fall into a bad state’ (περιπτωτικὰ τῷ κακῷ) but ensure that they would necessarily do so. Thus, according to Marcus, the rationality and benevolence of universal nature as well as the fact that particular natures such as human beings are parts of the universal nature herself make it impossible to believe that the human nature would be prone to fall into vice, contrary to what Posidonius thought. This, in turn, has important consequences for Marcus.

232  Chapter 8 In particular, it shows that the perversion (διαστροφή) of the human nature is not a fatality. Even if most of us fail in our youth to grow to be morally good and need philosophy to correct and set right our nature when it has been perverted, it is still conceivable that some people will remain ‘non perverted’. From the biographical details that one finds in the first book of the Meditations, it seems that the Stoic Claudius Maximus was one of these remarkable people. Here is what Marcus says he learned from him: T8-10 From Maximus: to be master of oneself, and never waver in one’s resolve; to be cheerful when ill, or in any other predicament; the example of a character marked by a harmonious blend of gentleness and gravity; to set to work on the task at hand without complaint. And the confidence he inspired in everyone that what he was saying was just what he thought, and that whatever he did was done with no bad intent; never to be surprised or discontented (τὸ ἀθαύμαστον καὶ ἀνέκπληκτον); and never to act in haste, or hang back, or be at a loss, or be downcast, and never to fawn on others or, on the other hand, be irascible or suspicious. To be beneficent, and ready to forgive, and free from guile; to offer the impression (φαντασίαν παρέχειν) of somebody that has not been perverted (τὸ ἀδιαστρόφου), rather than that has been corrected (διορθουμένου). (M.A. Med. 1.15.1–8, trans. Hard, adapted) According to the Historia Augusta, Claudius Maximus was a Stoic philosopher and one of Marcus’ teachers.13 He is depicted here as possessing some of the main features of the perfect Stoic sage. For instance, his presentation as somebody that is ‘never to be surprised or discontented’ clearly refers to the ideal of complete familiarity with what happens in the world, which we mentioned earlier (see T8-3 and T8-4). His ἀπάθεια is, of course, another well-known trait of the Stoic sage. And his beneficence and readiness to forgive are features with roots in Marcus’ Stoic conception of god, as we shall see later. Of course, all of these moral qualities can in theory result from the therapy that philosophy procures for a soul that has been perverted by external influences. But Marcus is adamant that, in Maximus, they were evidence that one can also never be perverted in the first place.14 In a way, Maximus’ perfect moral condition was proof that the human nature can ‘naturally’ lead human beings towards virtues (on which, see supra Chapter 2, section 5).

2 Providence and the freedom to sin and to correct oneself 2.1 The power not to fall into evil When it comes to explaining what human beings specifically owe to divine providence, Marcus has a rather peculiar and original take: we owe god the

Marcus Aurelius on providence  233 power and licence not to fall into evils. This, he makes especially clear in the following text, from the second book of his Meditations: T8-11 [a] [T]aking your leave of the human race is nothing to be feared, if the gods exist (εἰ μὲν θεοὶ εἰσίν); for they would not involve you in anything bad. If, on the other hand, they do not exist, or if they do not concern themselves with human affairs (εἰ δὲ ἤτοι οὐκ εἰσίν ἢ οὐ μέλει αὐτοῖς τῶν ἀνθρωπείων), why should I care to go on living in a world devoid of gods or devoid of providence (κενῷ θεῶν ἢ προνοίας κενῷ)? [b] But they do exist, and they do show concern for human affairs (ἀλλὰ καὶ εἰσὶ καὶ μέλει αὐτοῖς τῶν ἀνθρωπείων), and, in order for the human being not to fall into true evils (καὶ τοῖς μὲν κατ’ ἀλήθειαν κακοῖς ἵνα μὴ περιπίπτῃ ὁ ἄνθρωπος), they have made those true evils completely in his power (ἐπ’ αὐτῷ τὸ πᾶν ἔθεντο). [c] As for the rest of things, if there were something (truly) evil there, they would have foreseen it (τοῦτο ἂν προείδοντο) and made sure that it is in the power of all human beings not to fall victim to it (ἵνα ἐπὶ παντὶ ᾖ τὸ μὴ περιπίπτειν αὐτῷ). [d] But what does not make a human being worse, how could it make life worse? Universal nature could not have disregarded it, either out of ignorance, or because, while knowing of it, she was incapable of guarding in advance against it or of correcting it (μὴ δυναμένη δὲ προφυλάξασθαι ἢ διορθώσασθαι ταῦτα). Nor could she have committed such a grave fault, either by impotence or lack of skill, as to allow good and evil to happen to good people and bad alike in equal measure (ἐπίσης). Now death and life, fame and obscurity, wealth and poverty, happen to good and bad in equal measure (ἐπίσης), being neither right nor wrong (οὔτε καλὰ ὄντα οὔτε αἰσχρά); and so it follows that they are neither good nor bad. (M.A. Med. 2.11, trans. Hard, adapted) Marcus’ general argument aims at two things: to show that god’s providence has endowed human beings with protection against true evils, namely moral vices, and to demonstrate that what human beings usually take to be bad, such as death, obscurity or poverty, are in fact not truly so and should not therefore be feared. With regard to the latter, it provides two distinct reasonings, located at the beginning [a] and at the end [d] of the passage. I shall here focus on the first one [a], which puts on an equal footing two, or rather three, incompatible hypotheses about the gods: either they exist and care about human beings or they do not exist, or again they exist but do not care about human beings. In any case, says Marcus, one should not fear death. For if there are benevolent gods, then we can trust that they have made sure that death is not something bad. On the other hand, if there are no gods or if they exist but do not care about us, then that means that we live in a godless, purposeless world and there is no reason for us to want to dwell longer than necessary in such a place. The argument may give the impression that the truth about god and providence does not really matter if one wants to live a life without the fear of death,

234  Chapter 8 and also that Marcus is not wholeheartedly committed to the Stoic view that gods not only exist but that they also care about us. Of course, in our text, that impression is immediately dissipated since Marcus then proceeds to prove that there is indeed divine providence. But there are other passages in the Meditations where one finds that sort of argument w ithout Marcus also explicitly endorsing divine providence.15 Typically, they present themselves in the form of a disjunction opposing the Stoic and the Epicurean views on god and nature: ‘either providence or atoms’.16 To some interpreters, those passages suggest that Marcus did not, after all, fully endorse the Stoic view on nature and god,17 or at least that he had doubts about providence.18 Their arguments are not convincing, though. For one thing, there is overwhelming evidence in the Meditations that Marcus defended the view of a world governed by god, reason and providence. For another, the disjunctive proposition opposing providence and atoms can be treated as a self-contained argument, even when it is part of a more general argument for providence, as is the case in T8-11. That explains why Marcus can also sometimes use the disjunction without having to explicitly endorse providence. In fact, as Hadot, followed by Gourinat,19 has well shown, the disjunctive proposition, whether it contains two or more than two hypotheses, is part of a protreptic argument aimed at encouraging oneself to philosophize or, as Marcus has it, to act in an orderly fashion and not be led by fears and passions.20 Compared to that first argument, commentators have usually little, if nothing, to say about the positive account on providence that Marcus puts forward in [b]. That is unfortunate, considering its originality and importance in the Meditations as a whole. So, what does he say exactly? That in order to prevent man from falling into true evils, that is, vices, the gods have made those evils completely ‘in his power’ (ἐπ’ αὐτῷ). In other words, confronted with the choice of locating the source and cause of evils either outside of us and therefore beyond our control, or within us and ‘in our power’ (ἐφ’ ἡμῖν), the gods, in their providence, choose to make evils completely dependent upon us. Now, there are two consequences that naturally arise from this choice. First, that human beings are in a position to never fall into evil since it is completely up to them not to cause evil in the first place: nothing external can overpower them and force them to become bad. Second, that evils, when they occur, necessarily occur because of human beings and human beings are therefore responsible for them. Clearly, though, what Marcus has in mind in this passage is not the second consequence, but the first. What he wants to underscore here is not that human beings are responsible for their actions and should be held accountable for the evils they cause, but rather that human beings are naturally free (see also infra T8-38) and that freedom is what makes them in control of the bad and the good they can cause. To put Marcus’ position into perspective, we can compare it to that of his contemporary, the former philosopher and converted Christian Justin Martyr: T8-12 [T]he Stoics declared that everything comes to be by necessity of fate (καθ’ εἱμαρμένης ἀνάγκην πάντα γίνεσθαι). But because god in the

Marcus Aurelius on providence  235 beginning made the race of angels and the human race with free will (ὅτι αὐτεξούσιον τό τε τῶν ἀγγέλων γένος καὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων τὴν ἀρχὴν ἐποίησεν ὁ θεός), they will reap the just retribution in eternal fire for whatever wrong they do. (Justin, II Apol. 6.4–5, trans. Minns and Parvis) It does not matter here that Justin appears to have not accepted or understood the Stoic account of fate. What matters and is interesting to notice is that Justin’s god, like Marcus’ god, is presented as having endowed human beings with ‘free will’ or αὐτεξούσιον, a word that is sometimes used by the Stoics themselves in the context of their account of freedom (see T5-21 [c]).21 But the reason why Justin’s god made the human race αὐτεξούσιον is very different from Marcus’: it is not to prevent human beings from falling into vice, but rather to make sure that, when they do fall into vice, they will be held accountable and be punished for it in their afterlife. In Justin’s view, freedom is a condition for responsibility, and that is why it has initially been granted by god to human beings. For Marcus, on the other hand, freedom, understood as freedom from external evils, is a condition for the happy life. For if the cause of evils were to be outside of us, we would be at the constant mercy of fortune (external events) and of other people. That is what Marcus explains in the following passage: T8-13 To my own faculty of choice (Τῷ ἐμῷ προαιρετικῷ), the faculty of choice of my neighbour is as much a matter of indifference (ἀδιάφορόν) as his breath and his flesh. For even though we have been made primarily for the sake of one another (μάλιστα ἀλλήλων ἕνεκεν), it is still the case that the ruling centre (τὰ ἡγεμονικά) of each individual has its own sovereign power (τὴν ἰδίαν κυρίαν). Otherwise the evil of my neighbour would become an evil for myself too, but that was contrary to god’s wish, so that my ill fortune should not come to depend on anyone other than myself (μὴ ἐπ’ ἄλλῳ ᾖ τὸ ἐμέ). (M.A. Med. 8.56, trans. Hard, adapted) Although Marcus refers rarely to the faculty of choice or προαιρετικὴ δύναμις in his Meditations, when he does, as here, it has generally the same meaning as in Epictetus, from whom he may even have borrowed that notion and expression.22 As already recalled in Chapter 7, the faculty of choice, in Epictetus, covers and is in charge of the three types of psychic actions that are ‘in our power’ (ἐφ’ ἡμῖν): desire, impulsion and judgement (or assent). But its authority goes beyond that, thanks to its capacity of valuation: it is what assesses and gives to everything, including itself, its proper value (see T7-24 and T7-25). That unique position of authority and power is reflected in our passage, where Marcus writes that the faculty of choice of each individual, which is its ruling centre or ἡγεμονικόν, has ‘its own sovereign power’ (ἰδία κυρία). Now, as we learned from T5-19a-c, sovereign power is a condition of freedom for the Stoics, for it means that one possesses a kind

236  Chapter 8 of authority that cannot be overridden by anything external. That is why Marcus explains that endowing each human being with a faculty of choice was a decision made by god to make sure that ‘my ill fortune should not come to depend on anyone other than myself’. As a consequence, the faculty of choice of somebody else, and the moral state it is in, is as indifferent (ἀδιάφορον) to me as that person’s breath: it has no authority over me and cannot, by itself, cause me to fall into evil. 2.2 The right to self-correct That god has endowed human beings with the power of not falling into vice is coherent with Marcus’ account of the perversion (διαστροφή) of human nature, namely, that there is no natural tendency in human beings to fall into evil (T8-8) and that, theoretically at least (or in reality, as in the case of Claudius Maximus), it is possible for human beings never to get perverted. But Marcus is, of course, well aware that most of us, even with the benefits of a good education and a good surrounding, will nevertheless fail to live in accordance with nature once adults. And that, he says, has also been foreseen by god, who has endowed human beings with this unique privilege, not only to be able to not fall into vice, but also, when they do, to correct themselves: T8-14 If you have ever seen a severed hand or foot, or a head which has been cut off, lying some distance away from the rest of the body, you will have some idea of what a person makes of himself, as far as he can, when he is not willing what happens (ὁ μὴ θέλων τὸ συμβαῖνον) and cuts himself off from others or when he does something that is against the common interest (ἀκοινώνητόν). By so acting, you have, as it were, cast yourself loose from the natural unity; for you were born to be a part of it, and now you have cut yourself off. But here comes this remarkable thing, that you have the right (ἔξεστί σοι) to make yourself a part of that unity once again. To no other part has god granted (ἐπέτρεψεν) this, to come together again with the whole after it has been severed and cut away; but observe the kindness (χρηστότητα) with which he has honoured each human being, for he has put it in his power (ἐπ’ αὐτῷ ἐποίησε) not to be broken away from the whole in the first place, and then, if he has been, to come back again and be reunited, and recover his place as a part. (M.A. Med. 8.34, trans. Hard, adapted) Marcus is committed to the Stoic view (see supra Chapter 4, section 6) that the rationality of the human nature is what makes it intrinsically social and political.23 As he wrote in the previous passage, human beings have been born ‘for the sake of one another’. He also endorses the cosmopolitan view that the whole world is a city governed by the gods and that everything that happens should be accepted and willed as something that is necessary for the preservation of the world (through constant rejuvenation, as explained in T8-9). Therefore, those who either complain about ‘what happens’ (τὸ συμβαῖνον) or fail to act for the

Marcus Aurelius on providence  237 common good (being not beneficent to others) are ‘cutting themselves off’ from others and from the cosmic city. But thanks to god, having put the cause ‘in the power’ of human beings themselves, it is always, or nearly so,24 possible for them ‘to come back again and be reunited’ and recover their place as citizens of the world. In fact, this possibility of self-correction, presented as a right to a second chance, is thought by Marcus as even more remarkable than the power of not falling into vice. Elsewhere, he presents it as a ‘blessing’: T8-15 It is impossible to cut a branch from the branch to which it is attached unless you cut it from the tree as a whole; and likewise, a human being cut off from a single one of his fellows has dropped out of the community as a whole. Now in the case of the branch, someone else cuts it off, but in the case of a human being, it is himself (αὐτός) that cuts himself (ἑαυτόν) off from his neighbour, when he comes to hate him and turns his back on him; and he ignores that by doing this, he has cut himself off from society as a whole (τοῦ ὅλου πολιτεύματος). There remains, however, this blessing (δῶρον) from Zeus, who first organized human society, that we have the right (ἔξεστι) to come together again with our neighbour, and again become an integral part of the whole. (M.A. Med. 11.8.1–4, trans. Hard, adapted) The reason why the possibility to reunite again with the whole is considered such a blessing (δῶρον) is that it is truly unique: no other creature apart from human beings is capable of understanding its error and correcting itself. In a sense, it is more than just a capacity – it is a right.25 The verb used by Marcus – ἔξεστι or ‘it is permitted’ – is reminiscent of the Stoic definition of freedom as ‘the permission or right (τὸ ἐξεῖναι) to live our life the way we want’.26 Elsewhere,27 the Stoics use the substantive ἐξουσία which they define as ‘a legal power of decision (νόμιμον ἐπιτροπήν)’ that has been given to human beings ‘by divine law (ἀπὸ τοῦ θείου νόμου)’.28 The central idea is that freedom is, first of all, a permission granted by a higher authority, namely, law or god. In our passage, the political and legal framework of the discussion is made clear when Marcus speaks of the cosmic city as a πολίτευμα, a term that can refer to a government, citizenship or an association of citizens.29 The cosmic city is a city the citizens of which have the right not only to leave if they want to, but also that of returning to. And that right of coming back is, in Marcus’ eyes, a defining trait of divine providence as it encapsulates the complete benevolence and philanthropy of god.

3 Providence and the Stoic doctrine of the principles 3.1 Two principles, one cause only The idea that god has given human beings the power of not falling into vice, and, if they should, the right of reuniting with the world and other fellow citizens is directly linked to the Stoic doctrine of the principles (ἀρχαί).

238  Chapter 8 As explained in Chapter 1, section 1, the Stoics were not materialists since they insisted that matter (also called ‘substance’ or οὐσία) is only one of the two principles of the world. The other important feature of their doctrine is that only god or reason, the other principle, is a cause, which means that every motion in the world is ultimately caused by reason, not matter. Finally, the two principles are opposites: one (reason or god) is ‘that which acts’ or τὸ ποιοῦν, and the other (matter) is ‘that which is acted upon’ or τὸ πάσχον. Marcus knows very well this doctrine of the principles, which he also fully endorses: T8-16 The substance of the whole (Ἡ τῶν ὅλων οὐσία) is obedient and malleable (εὐπειθὴς καὶ εὐτρεπής), and the reason that governs it (ὁ δὲ ταύτην διοικῶν λόγος) has nothing within itself that could cause it to bring about anything bad; for it has no evil in itself, nor does it do any wrong, nor is anything injured by it; and all things (Πάντα) come into being and are accomplished according to it. (M.A. Med. 6.1, trans. Hard) The essentially passive nature of matter makes it fully obedient and malleable to the actions of reason: it cannot oppose or obstruct them in any way. Reason, being essentially active, is therefore also the cause of everything. Like other Stoics before him (see T3-3 and T9-32, with commentary), Marcus looks at human reason as ἀπόσπασμα or ‘detached part’ of god, which he calls δαίμων.30 Each human being, as a compound (or rather mixture) of soul and body, is therefore ultimately reducible to the two cosmic principles: T8-17a I am composed of the formal and the material (Ἐξ αἰτιώδους καὶ ὑλικοῦ συνέστηκα). (M.A. Med. 5.13.1, trans. Hard) T8-17b Remember that what pulls our strings (τὸ νευροσπαστοῦν) is that which is hidden within us (ἐκεῖνο τὸ ἔνδον ἐγκεκρυμμένον): that is activity, that is life and that is, if one may say so, the human being. When picturing its nature, never confuse it with the fleshly vessel that encloses it or these organs moulded around us; for these are mere instruments like an axe, differing only in this, that they are attached to us as part of ourselves. For in truth, these parts are of no more value without the cause that set them to work or brings them to rest (χωρὶς τῆς κινούσης καὶ ἰσχούσης αὐτὰ αἰτίας) than the shuttle to the weaver, or the pen to the writer, or the whip to the charioteer. (M.A. Med. 10.38, trans. Hard, adapted) A human being is in a sense a microcosm of the way the whole world is governed: all the activity that is shown through his body is in fact caused by the hidden cause within it, namely reason (or the ἡγεμονικόν or the δαίμων), which is presented here as a puppeteer.

Marcus Aurelius on providence  239 3.2 Everything turns on judgement It is not difficult to see how the account of providence given earlier matches the division between the two principles: the power not to fall into vice and that of self-correction is in fact what the simple presence of reason necessarily brings about. Since reason only is a cause, it must be thought of as in command of everything that a human being does, right or wrong. It is impossible for the human body to impose its own authority on the soul since it is simply an instrument for it. Generally speaking, everything outside reason is, by itself, completely motionless and thus incapable of obstructing reason. This leads to a central thesis of Marcus, that the cause of everything for a human being are his judgements (ὑπολήψεις, κρίσεις): T8-18a [T]hings have no hold on the soul (τὰ πράγματα οὐχ ἅπτεται τῆς ψυχῆς), but stand quiet outside it, and all disturbances arise solely from the judgments within us (ἐκ μόνης τῆς ἔνδον ὑπολήψεως). (M.A. Med. 4.3.10, trans. Hard, adapted) T8-18b [T]hings themselves (αὐτὰ … τὰ πράγματα) are not of such a nature that they can create judgments within us (οὐκ ἔχει φύσιν ποιητικὴν τῶν ἡμετέρων κρίσεων). (M.A. Med. 6.52, trans. Hard) T8-18c [N]o one can be obstructed by another person (οὐδεὶς ὑπ’ ἄλλου ἐμποδίζεται) and everything turns on judgment (ὅτι πάντα ὑπόληψις). (M.A. Med. 12.8, trans. Hard) As the last extract shows, the idea that ‘everything turns on judgment’ is corollary to that which holds that nothing external can obstruct a human being, hence that he is naturally free. That does not mean, however, that a human being cannot be a source of disturbance to himself. On the contrary, as the first passage explains, since the things outside of us are like matter to us (to our soul), then disturbances and other kinds of impediments can only arise from the very judgements we make about those πράγματα. When they are wrong and ignorant, our judgements necessarily cause us to fall into evil, which in itself constitutes a form of slavery (see infra T8-38), since we are now obstructed by our own incorrect judgements. But because judgements are completely ‘in our power’, we can also not have them and thus destroy the obstacle they may constitute: T8-19 That everything turns on judgment and that judgment is in your power (Ὅτι πάντα ὑπόληψις καὶ αὕτη ἐπὶ σοί). So remove, when you will, the judgment, and then, as though you had passed the headland, the sea is calm, and all is still, and there is not a wave in the bay. (M.A. Med. 12.22, trans. Hard, adapted)

240  Chapter 8 The image of a calm sea which Marcus here uses calls to mind Zeno’s definition of happiness as a ‘smooth flow of life’ (εὔροια βίου)31: it conveys the sense of continuity and the absence of hindrance that are characteristics of freedom.32 Happiness is thus completely in our power – as the gods wanted it to be – since it is completely up to us to remove the source of evil that constitutes wrong judgements. Our sole concern should therefore be to take care of our faculty of judgement, so that our judgement may always be ‘in accordance with nature’: T8-20 Venerate your faculty of judgment (Τὴν ὑποληπτικὴν δύναμιν σέβε). For it depends entirely on this that there should never arise in your ruling centre any judgment that fails to accord with nature (ἀνακόλουθος τῇ φύσει) and with the constitution of a rational being (καὶ τῇ τοῦ λογ­ικοῦ ζῴου κατασκευῇ); and it is this that guarantees absence of precipitation (ἀπροπτωσίαν), familiarization with humankind (τὴν πρὸς ἀνθρώπους οἰκείωσιν), and accordance with the gods (τὴν τοῖς θεοῖς ἀκολουθίαν). (M.A. Med. 3.9, trans. Hard, adapted) The vocabulary used by Marcus (‘venerate’, σέβε) shows that the faculty of judgement is not simply one among other faculties of the soul, but what the god within or ἡγεμονικόν or ruling centre is essentially about. Indeed, as we have seen in Chapter 7 (section 1.2), what makes reason, as a faculty of choice (προαιρετικὴ δύναμις), superior to anything else is its capacity of valuation: making a judgement always implies an assessment of the value of the things (πράγματα) that are outside of us and of the faculty of choice or judgement itself (see T7-24 and T7-25). By urging us (so to say)33 to ‘venerate’ our own faculty of judgement, Marcus wants to make sure that such faculty remains in our own eyes what has the most value and what we ought to preserve at all cost. For everything that really matters, everything that is ‘in our power’, truly depends on the faculty of judgement.34 3.3 Matter and the things that are indifferent 3.3.1 Being indifferent to what is indifferent Although it is clear that Marcus owes a lot to Epictetus, it is important to acknowledge that he is not slavishly following him. Even more than Epictetus, what he owes his thesis (that ‘everything turns on judgment’) to is the doctrine of the two principles that he had decided, in quite an original manner, to use in his analysis of the human condition. This will become even clearer now as we enter into the study of a second major doctrine in Marcus’ thought, namely, ‘matter is indifferent’. It is the necessary corollary of the thesis that everything turns on judgement, as one can see from the following passage: T8-21 Live the finest of lives. The power to do so lies in one’s soul (δύναμις αὕτη ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ), if one is indifferent to things that are indifferent (πρὸς

Marcus Aurelius on providence  241 τὰ ἀδιάφορά τις ἀδιαφορῇ). And a person will be indifferent if he examines each of them distinctly and as a whole, and bears in mind that none of them creates any judgment in us about itself (οὐδὲν αὐτῶν ὑπόληψιν περὶ αὐτοῦ ἡμῖν ἐμποιεῖ) nor does it make any move towards us, but that all of them remain motionless (ἀλλὰ τὰ μὲν ἀτρεμεῖ) and it is we who generate judgments about them (ἡμεῖς δε ἐσμεν οἱ τὰς περὶ αὐτῶν κρίσεις γεννῶντες) and, so to speak, inscribe them on our minds, although it is possible for us not to inscribe them, and if we do so unaware, we can immediately wipe them off again (εὐθὺς ἐξαλεῖψαι). (M.A. Med. 11.16, trans. Hard, adapted) So, if everything depends on our faculty of judgement, then all that matters (all that makes a difference in terms of happiness) is within our soul, and we should take the rest for what it is: things that are indifferent and that must be looked at and considered in an indifferent manner. The Stoics, as is well known, although they called ‘indifferent’ those things that are only apparently good or bad such as health, wealth or reputation (and their opposite), also insisted on distinguishing, within that category, those that are preferable and those that are unpreferable35: the former are useful for self-preservation, naturally activate impulse and are therefore said to be ‘in accordance with nature’, while the latter have the opposite characteristics. That was the position adopted by the Stoa from the start.36 In the case of Marcus, though, even if he makes some space for the distinction between preferred and dispreferred indifferents when it comes to the well-being of others (see next section), when he is addressing himself, he seems to have a rather radical view and to be ready to treat things that are indifferent as being completely indifferent. True, the expression he used when he says that ‘one must be indifferent to things that are indifferent’ does not prove by itself that he is diverging from the rest of the Stoics.37 Still, there is little evidence in his Meditations that he actively put forward the view, defended by Chrysippus and Epictetus (T6-29), that ‘as long as the future is uncertain to me, I always hold to those things which are better adapted to obtaining the things in accordance with nature’, that is, preferred indifferents. On the contrary, as has been noticed by Gourinat,38 when it comes to indifferents, Marcus rather urges himself to treat all of them equally: T8-22 [T]owards those things with regard to which universal nature is equally disposed (πρὸς ἃ ἡ κοινὴ φύσις ἐπίσης ἔχει) – for she would not have created both were she not equally disposed with regard to both –, it is necessary that those who wish to follow nature (τοὺς τῇ φύσει βουλομένους ἕπεσθαι) and be of one mind with her (ὁμογνώμονας ὄντας) should also be equally disposed. Accordingly, anyone who is not himself equally disposed towards pleasure and pain, or life and death, or reputation and disrepute, towards which universal nature is equally disposed, commits a manifest impiety (δῆλον ὡς ἀσεβεῖ). (M.A. Med. 9.1.9, trans. Hard, adapted)

242  Chapter 8 One should be indifferent (or ‘equally disposed’, ἐπίσης) towards things that are indifferent such as pleasure and pain, life and death or reputation and disrepute, because that is precisely how nature herself (god or cosmic reason) is disposed towards them. Indeed, contrary to good and evil, those things have been equally distributed among human beings, that is, granted to all of them irrespective of their moral qualities (see supra T8-11 [d]). That is a sign that those things are not truly good or bad and that possessing them does not make any difference to our chances of achieving happiness. Again, Marcus’ text is not in itself in contradiction with Stoic teaching, but what is striking is that Marcus never really seeks, here or elsewhere, to make it clear that it is still natural for a human being to have an impulse towards health or life or reputation, and to have a repulsion from their opposite. The reason for that, I think, is to be found in the doctrine of the two principles that he is repeatedly resorting to. For, if reason only is a cause, then matter and everything that has the function of matter are to be considered as completely indifferent. The dichotomy and opposition between reason (strictly active) and matter (strictly passive) does not allow for a further distinction, within matter, between things that are to be preferred and things that are to be dispreferred. Indeed, our concern should be focused on reason and reason alone. 3.3.2 Indifferent things in relation to other people Marcus’ position has sometimes been linked to that of Aristo of Chios, a former pupil of Zeno and renegade Stoic39 who defended the view that the end is to live with a disposition of indifference (τὸ ἀδιαφόρως ἔχοντα ζῆν) towards what is intermediate (πρὸς τὰ μεταξύ) between vice and virtue, not retaining any difference at all within that class of things, but being equally disposed (ἐπίσης) towards them all.40 The similarity of the vocabulary of Marcus and Aristo (the use of ἐπίσης in particular) is certainly notable and one cannot completely rule out that Marcus was indeed influenced by the reading of Aristo.41 But there is at least one important difference, which is that, contrary to Aristo,42 Marcus nowhere explicitly criticizes the division between preferred and dispreferred indifferents. So, his position is probably less radical than Aristo’s. Besides, as we are going to see it now, he does make use of that distinction, but only with regard to the well-being of other people. Several passages in the Meditations43 show that Marcus recognized the class of what the Stoics call ‘intermediate things’ (τὰ μέσα), which they describe in the following manner: T8-23 Another sort is a certain intermediate potential or usefulness (μέσην τινὰ δύναμιν ἢ χρείαν) which contributes to the

Marcus Aurelius on providence  243 life according to nature (συμβαλλομένην πρὸς τὸν κατὰ φύσιν βίον), as much as to say, just that [value] which wealth and health bring forward for [promoting] the life according to nature. (D.L. 7.105, trans. Inwood and Gerson) The ‘intermediate things’ do not refer indiscriminately to things that are indifferent, but to preferred indifferents such as wealth or health.44 The reason why they are called ‘intermediate’ is probably because of their intermediate value: while only the good (virtue) has the most value, intermediate things still contribute to a ‘life according to nature’, though not in the moral sense of the term. As can be seen from the following passage, Marcus does indeed allow for the existence of that class of things, but only as far as the well-being of others is concerned: T8-24 Do not allow yourself to be wholly carried away by your impression, but help people as best you can and as they deserve, even if what they have lost are intermediate things (κἂν εἰς τὰ μέσα ἐλαττῶνται). You should not form the impression, however, that any real harm is involved; for that is an unhealthy habit. Rather, you must act like the old man [in the play], who, when he went away, would ask for his foster-child’s top without losing sight of the fact that it was merely a top (ῥόμβος). So follow a similar course in the present case also; and yet you are giving vent to your sympathies in this theatrical fashion. Tell me, man, have you forgotten what these things really were? ‘Yes, but they were of great importance to those who have lost them.’ Is that a reason why you should join them in their folly? (M.A. Med. 5.36, trans. Hard, adapted) The passage should be read in the light of the Stoic account of pity (ἐλεός). For the Stoics, pity is a passion and they define it as ‘a pain at someone seeming to suffer undeservedly’.45 The reason pity is a passion and a vice is that it is based on ignorance: at the sight of the misfortunes that some people suffer, we react as if they had been really – and thus undeservedly – wronged, while in fact they have only lost τὰ μέσα, intermediate things. To show pity to them would be to believe that losing intermediate things such as health or wealth is a bad thing, while it is only truly indifferent. Marcus clearly agrees with this doctrine and urges himself not ‘to join others in their folly’ by pitying them. Intermediate things are like a child’s toy (a spinning top), he says: the child sees it as something precious, but the adult knows that it is just a toy. But the important thing that Marcus explains here is that even if a Stoic knows that intermediate things are not truly good, he still will go out of his way to help those people who, because they are ignorant of the true nature of the good, feel they have been undeservedly harmed by the loss of intermediate things.

244  Chapter 8 The question that immediately arises here is why does Marcus treat other people differently than himself? Why does he still want to help them get back some of the intermediate things they have lost when he knows perfectly that they objectively have suffered no harm? We are not yet in a position to fully answer that question (see infra section 4.2), but it seems that an important clue is given in Med. 2.13 where Marcus says that people who suffer from the ignorance of good and evil, ‘in a sense (τρόπον τινά)’ deserve our pity. Here, Marcus appears to defend some form of pity,46 but not the same kind of pity which the Stoa condemned. For, the reason why some people deserve our pity, according to Marcus, is not that they are apparently wronged by the loss of intermediate things, but that they suffer from ignorance, which is the very nature of what is bad for a Stoic. While the loss of an intermediate thing is not a loss at all, the ignorant judgement made about it is truly bad and harmful. The incorrect judgement that ignorant people make about the loss of intermediate things is what really causes their distress, and it is thus objectively true to consider that they suffer. That is why they deserve some form of pity on the part of a Stoic and also why it is appropriate for a Stoic to try and help them get back the intermediate things they have lost. Now, of course, the reason why, according to the Stoics in general and Marcus in particular, we care so much for other human beings is because of the special relationship we have with them, one that is based on our sharing in reason: T8-25a [The good person] remembers that all that is rational is akin (συγγενὲς πᾶν τὸ λογικόν), and that (…) it follows from human nature that he should care for all human beings (κήδεσθαι μὲν πάντων ἀνθρώπων). (M.A. Med. 3.4, trans. Hard, adapted) T8-25b [Even the nature of the wrongdoer] is akin to my own (μοι συγγενής)—not because he is of the same blood and seed, but because he shares as I do in mind and thus in a portion of the divine (νοῦ καὶ θείας ἀπομοίρας μέτοχος) (M.A. Med. 2.1, trans. Hard) All human beings are mutually akin and that means that, even with wrongdoers, we must show benevolence and kindness. Sometimes, Marcus will say that if somebody is trying to interfere with our efforts to live a life according to nature (a moral life), he must be treated as if he was ‘an indifferent thing’.47 But that does not mean that one should fight him: ‘To be sure, we guard against him (καίτοι φυλαττόμεθα), but not in a hostile spirit or with undue suspicion, but through kind avoidance (ἐκκλίσεως εὐμενοῦς)’.48 Still, in T8-13, we have seen that Marcus insists that other fellow human beings remain, with respect to their faculty of choice, a matter of indifference to us. What he wants to explain, however, is that our relationship with other human beings is not completely symmetrical: it is not the case that

Marcus Aurelius on providence  245 they depend on our help to be happy and that we depend on them for achieving happiness. Ultimately, happiness involves the relation a given subject has with himself: how he treats and venerates his own soul or δαίμων (T820). But since, by nature, human beings are social and political animals, it is only through the way they act towards other people that they can achieve their telos. That means that while other people cannot affect our ability to become happy by the way (good or bad) they behave towards us, we must act and be beneficent towards other people if we want to fulfil the demand of our own nature. A good illustration of that lack of symmetry in our relation with other human beings is given in the first book of the Meditations, where Marcus thanks the gods that he never ran out of money: T8-26 [I am thankful that] [a] whenever I wanted to help somebody who was short of money or needed assistance in some other respect, I never had to hear that I lacked the means to do so, and that [b] I for my own part never fell into such need as to require assistance from another. (M.A. Med. 1.17.16–17, trans. Hard) Here, we can see that the intermediate thing that money or wealth is, only becomes valuable when it serves as a means for exercising beneficence towards other people in need. When, in the second part of the passage, Marcus says that he is thankful that he never required financial assistance from other people, his concern is not with the lack of money as such, but with the fact that poverty would have put him in the position of a passive beneficiary, while his nature, fundamentally active, required him to be actively beneficent to others.

4 Providence and politics 4.1 Do gods care about individual human beings? As we shall see in more detail at the end of Chapter 10, there appears to have been a debate in antiquity about the exact extent of divine providence. Epictetus himself (see T10-21) classifies schools of thought according to the reach they grant to god’s providence: either it covers the supra-lunar world only or human activities considered generally or the lives of individual human beings. Since it has sometimes been alleged (wrongly) that Stoic providence was not interested in ‘the individual lot of each person’,49 it is worth trying to determine what Marcus’ position was on that topic. One important text is found in book VI of the Meditations. There, it seems that Marcus agrees to the possibility that the gods do not specifically deliberate about individuals: T8-27a [a] If the gods have taken counsel about me and what must happen to me (Εἰ μὲν οὖν ἐβουλεύσαντο περὶ ἐμοῦ καὶ τῶν ἐμοὶ συμβῆναι

246  Chapter 8 ὀφειλόντων οἱ θεοί), they have taken good counsel (καλῶς ἐβουλεύσαντο); for a god who makes ill-advised decisions can scarcely be imagined, and what motive could possibly impel them to do me harm? For what advantage would that bring either to themselves or to the common good (αὐτοῖς ἢ τῷ κοινῷ), which is what their providence is primarily concerned with (οὗ μάλιστα προνοοῦνται)? [b] But if they have taken no counsel about me as an individual (εἰ δὲ μὴ ἐβουλεύσαντο κατ’ ἰδίαν περὶ ἐμοῦ), they will at any rate have taken counsel about the common good (περί γε τῶν κοινῶν), and whatever comes about as a consequence of that (οἷς κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν) I am bound to welcome and gladly approve. (M.A. Med. 6.44.1–3, trans. Hard, adapted) The first part of the passage [a] makes the case that ‘if’ the gods deliberate about me (an individual human being), then they must do it well, that is, they must think of me and work for my personal advantage. The argument he provides is particularly interesting because it starts with the premise that god’s main concern lies with himself and with the common good, which may sound at first a not too promising way to demonstrate that the gods care about human beings individually. However, we know from other texts that the Stoics hold, first, that the gods ‘do everything chiefly for themselves’ (see T10-5, with commentary), and, second, that divine providence is primarily concerned with the preservation of the world as a whole (see T10-1). But, as Marcus explains, there is no reason why that would lead the gods to be other than beneficial towards individual human beings. He does not explain why, but since each human being has been endowed with a detached part of god, which serves as a personal and internal δαίμων, then his reasoning is probably that god would harm himself if he was to harm any individual human being.50 In the second half of the passage [b], Marcus then addresses the hypothesis that the gods only deliberate about the common good, and not about me ‘as an individual’. Contrary to the previous hypothesis, he does not offer any reason in favour of it. Rather, he remains content to explain why, in that case, one can still welcome and approve whatever happens: since the gods take counsel about the common good, then everything that happens to me personally comes about ‘as a necessary consequence’ (κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν) of that. We see that Marcus resorts here, as he does elsewhere (see T8-1 and T8-2), to the Stoic theory that distinguishes between god’s primary intention (or will) and the consequences that necessarily follow from it: those consequences are not in themselves ‘willed’ by god, but since they are side effects of his will, they remain linked to god (see T3-21). It is that link, in Marcus’ argument, that makes things that happen κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν acceptable: we welcome them because they are indirectly connected to god, and so also to the common good. How are we to interpret those two hypotheses? Is Marcus genuinely unsure as to whether the gods care for human beings individually or simply

Marcus Aurelius on providence  247 on a general level? If we were to stop our study of his text here, we would probably conclude that Marcus has no firm position on this issue, contrary to the rest of the Stoics. But the text does not end here and the rest of it shows that we are dealing with the kind of protreptic argument that Marcus often resorts to in order to encourage himself to philosophize. That is clear from the way Marcus now proceeds to expand his argument: T8-27b [c] But if we imagine that they take counsel about nothing at all (εἰ δ’ ἄρα περὶ μηδενὸς βουλεύονται) – which it would be an impiety to believe, or otherwise let us no longer sacrifice to them, or pray to them, or swear by them, or do any other of the things that we do in the belief that the gods are close by and dwelling among us – but if we imagine, I say, that they take no counsel about our affairs (εἰ δ’ ἄρα περὶ μηδενὸς τῶν καθ’ ἡμᾶς βουλεύονται), it is still in my power to take counsel about myself (ἐμοὶ μὲν ἔξεστι περὶ ἐμαυτοῦ βουλεύεσθαι) and it is for me to consider where my own advantage lies. And what is advantageous to every being lies in what accords with its own constitution and nature (τὸ κατὰ τὴν ἑαυτοῦ κατασκευὴν καὶ φύσιν). Now my nature is that of a rational and political being (ἡ δὲ ἐμὴ φύσις λογικὴ καὶ πολιτική). [d] As Antoninus, my city and fatherland is Rome; as a human being, it is the world; so what brings advantages to these is the sole good for me. (M.A. Med. 6.44.4–6, trans. Hard) Marcus now considers a third hypothesis [c], one where the gods do not take counsel at all, that is, have no interest in human affairs, whether considered individually or generally. Here, not only does he not provide any reason in favour of that hypothesis, he explicitly criticizes it as being contradicted by the human practices of sacrifice, prayer or oath swearing, which are all done in the belief that the gods ‘are close by and dwell among us’. So, it is clear that Marcus does not himself subscribe to that hypothesis. Still, he maintains it, for the sake of the argument, in order to show that even in that case, one still has the power to ‘take counsel’ about oneself, that is, to care about oneself and deliberate about where one’s own advantage lies. In other words, this third hypothesis shows that the whole argument is first of all about demonstrating that whatever hypothesis about divine providence we start from, we must philosophize, that is, identify what is our good and act in a manner that is appropriate to obtaining it. Since, as humans, we have a rational and political nature [d], then we should act for the benefit of the societies we live in, which include both the cosmic city and the small human city we happen to live in. Now that the whole argument has been displayed, it is clear that the second hypothesis, one that denies that god’s providence extends to individuals, does not reflect any genuine doubt on the part of Marcus. By definition, a protreptical argument must consider an exhaustive set of hypotheses to be truly persuasive and that explains why Marcus had to insert the second

248  Chapter 8 hypothesis. Besides, we have seen that the only hypothesis he argues in favour of is the first one, which defends the view of a personal kind of providence. Finally, there is one important passage, in the first book of the Meditations, that indubitably shows that Marcus endorsed personal providence, since he is convinced that he personally benefitted from it: T8-28 [I am thankful to the gods that I] have clearly and regularly pictured to myself (φαντασθῆναι) the proper meaning of a life according to nature (τοῦ κατὰ φύσιν βίου), so that, in so far as it depends on the gods (ὅσον ἐπὶ τοῖς θεοῖς) and on communications, assistance, and thoughts51 that come from the divine (καὶ ταῖς ἐκεῖθεν διαδόσεσι καὶ συλλήψεσι καὶ ἐπινοίαις), there is nothing to prevent me (μηδὲν κωλύειν) from living according to nature straight away, although I still fall somewhat short of this by my own fault (παρὰ τὴν ἐμὴν αἰτίαν) and by failing to heed the reminders and, one might almost say, the instructions of the gods (τὰς ἐκ τῶν θεῶν ὑπομνήσεις καὶ μονονουχὶ διδασκαλίας). (M.A. Med. 1.17.11, trans. Hard, adapted) Here, Marcus thanks the gods for having helped him have a clear representation of a life that is in accordance with nature. He lists a series of means (communications, assistance and thoughts) that the gods employed to ‘instruct’ him about the proper meaning of a life that accords with nature. As we shall see later (in T8-32b and T8-33a), instruction (διδασκαλία) is one of the two ways by which a rational being can be advantageous to another. It is also the most important one, since, for a Stoic, human beings cannot achieve happiness (or right reason) without instruction (see supra Chapter 6, section 2.1). That the gods tried to help and instruct Marcus through divination52 shows not only that they deliberate about individual human beings, but also that they care about their moral well-being. 4.2 How gods care about human beings There are two major distinctive traits in Marcus’ account of how the gods treat human beings: first, that the gods govern with justice, and, second, that their benevolence makes them advantageous even towards bad people. 4.2.1 Divine justice The idea of justice as a form of apportionment or distribution that is just and fair is introduced by Marcus in the course of his description of fate. We know that, in the Stoa, with the exception of Cleanthes (see supra Chapter 2, section 4), fate cannot be thought separately from providence and that the two words can be used to name one and the same reality, namely, nature or god (see supra T1-1 and T6-1, with commentary). Similarly, Marcus wants to

Marcus Aurelius on providence  249 show that fate does not refer to a blind series of events happening irrespective of what or who they happen to: T8-29a What follows is always linked by a tie of familiarity to what came before (Τὰ ἑξῆς ἀεὶ τοῖς προηγησαμένοις οἰκείως ἐπιγίνεται); for this is not like the counting out of a series of independent units linked only by the necessary sequence , but a rational connexion (συνάφεια εὔλογος). And as existing things (τὰ ὄντα) are harmoniously co-ordinated (συντέτακται συνηρμοσμένως), so also things that come into being (τὰ γινόμενα) display no mere succession (οὐ διαδοχὴν ψιλήν) but a wonderful familiarity (θαυμαστήν τινα οἰκειότητα). (M.A. Med. 4.45, trans. Hard, adapted) T8-29b All that happens, happens justly (πᾶν τὸ συμβαῖνον δικαίως συμβαίνει). You will discover this to be the case, if you look closely (ἐὰν ἀκριβῶς παραφυλάσσῃς). I do not say simply according to the sequence (οὐ λέγω μόνον κατὰ τὸ ἑξῆς), but according to justice (κατὰ τὸ δίκαιον) and as if was apportioned by somebody according to merit (ὡς ἂν ὑπό τινος ἀπονέμοντος τὸ κατ’ ἀξίαν). (M.A. Med. 4.10, trans. Hard, adapted) We find in the first passage some of the characteristics of the definition of fate that Chrysippus gave in his On Providence (see supra T3-26), namely, that fate is a form of coordination of things (σύνταξις), a sequence where a set of things implacably follows another. That coordination is not a ‘mere succession’, but a ‘rational connexion’, explains Marcus: what happens or follows does not do so simply because of the laws of cause and effect. There is a particular harmony in the whole process, a familiarity (οἰκειότης) between the connected elements that is properly amazing to observe (cf. θαυμαστήν). For that to be understood, explains the second passage, one must pay close attention to the reasons why things happen the way they do: they are governed by a sense of justice. Marcus’ description of justice – apportionment of things according to merit or value – matches the orthodox definition of justice we find in our sources.53 The key expression here is ‘κατ’ ἀξίαν’: what happens to something or to somebody does not happen blindly but takes into account its value or merit and can therefore be said to happen ‘justly’. But what does this value refer to exactly? From the following passages, one gathers that the value depends on the type of nature that a thing or living being happens to possess: T8-30a The intelligence of the whole is sociable (Ὁ τοῦ ὅλου νοῦς κοινωνικός). In any event, it has made the lower for the sake of the superior (τὰ χείρω τῶν κρειττόνων ἕνεκεν), and adapted the superior beings to one another (τὰ κρείττω ἀλλήλοις συνήρμοσεν). You can see how it

250  Chapter 8 has subordinated (ὑπέταξε), co-ordinated (συνέταξε), and apportioned to each according to its value (τὸ κατ’ ἀξίαν ἀπένειμεν ἑκάστοις) and brought the superior beings into good accord (εἰς ὁμόνοιαν) with one another. (M.A. Med. 5.30, trans. Hard, adapted) T8-30b Nothing can happen to any human being which is not an accident natural to humanity (ὃ οὐκ ἔστιν ἀνθρωπικὸν σύμπτωμα), nor to an ox which is not natural to oxen, nor to a vine which is not natural to vines, nor to a stone which is not proper to a stone. So, if there happens to each (ἑκάστῳ συμβαίνει) what is both customary and natural (ὃ καὶ εἴωθε καὶ πέφυκε), why should you be discontent? For universal nature (ἡ κοινὴ φύσις) never brings you (σοι ἔφερεν) anything unbearable (ἀφόρητόν). (M.A. Med. 8.46, trans. Hard, adapted) The cosmic city encompasses various natures that are hierarchically ordered: stones, plants, animals and rational beings (humans and gods). Some of those natures are subordinated to others: stones, plants and animals are created ‘for the sake’ of gods and humans (see T6-22). Others are simply harmoniously coordinated: human beings and gods.54 Everything that happens to those various natures takes into account the type of nature it possesses, which makes what happens both natural and bearable, Marcus says. When an animal is being hunted and killed in order to be eaten, what happens to it happens in accordance with its nature. Similarly, death is a natural event for human beings since they are mortals: death is a human thing and is thus also humanly bearable. Generally speaking, all that happens to a human being happens in accordance with his human nature and can therefore be described as ‘just’.55 However, many people do not look at what happens as just and fair, and they accuse the gods of being unjust. Although their accusations seem to have some grounding, they are ultimately the result of a faulty judgement, says Marcus: T8-31 One who pursues pleasures as being good and tries to avoid pains as being bad is acting impiously; for it is inevitable that such a person must often blame (μέμφεσθαι) universal nature for apportioning something to good people or bad that is contrary to their merit (παρ’ ἀξίαν), because it is so often the case (πολλάκις) that the bad devote themselves to pleasure (ἐν ἡδοναῖς εἶναι) and secure the things that give rise to it (τὰ ποιητικὰ τούτων κτᾶσθαι) while the good encounter pain and what gives rise to that. (M.A. Med. 9.1.6, trans. Hard, adapted) Marcus agrees that ‘it is often the case’ (πολλάκις) that bad people live a life of pleasure, while good people encounter pain. He does not explain why,

Marcus Aurelius on providence  251 but the reason seems obvious: bad people are those who think that what is good is nothing but those intermediate things such as wealth and pleasure, and that is why they will actively seek to obtain them. No wonder, then, that they ‘often’ live a life of pleasure. Still, Marcus insists that accusing the gods of being unjust – by distributing pleasure and pain ‘contrary to merit’ (παρ’ ἀξίαν) – is in fact the effect of ignorance. It is, he says, because they themselves ignore what is truly good and truly bad that those people end up accusing the gods of injustice. In other words, contrary to the gods, they fail to assess the real value (ἄξια) of things, and that leads them to interpret the imbalance between good and bad people with respect to the possession of intermediate things as a proof of divine injustice. In reality, as we have seen in T8-11 [d], the very fact that things such as life and death, reputation and disrepute or wealth and poverty are to be found in relation to both good and bad people, shows that they are not truly good or truly bad. We should therefore, like the gods, be ‘equally disposed’ towards them (T8-22), that is, treat them as indifferent things. 4.2.2 Caring even for the bad Independently from the fact that bad people are more likely than good people to live a life of pleasure because they pursue pleasure as being the good, it is also true, says Marcus, that the gods themselves happen to help bad people to get those intermediate things that they wrongly take as good: T8-32a [Y]ou should show good disposition (εὐνοεῖν) with regard to them [i.e. bad people]; for by nature, you and they are friends (φύσει γὰρ φίλοι). And the gods themselves come to their aid in all manner of ways, through dreams, through oracles, if only to gain the things on which their hearts are set (πρὸς ταῦτα μέντοι, πρὸς ἃ ἐκεῖνοι διαφέρονται). (M.A. Med. 9.27, trans. Hard, adapted) T8-32b If you can, change them [i.e. bad people] through instruction (μεταδίδασκε); but if you cannot, remember that kindness was granted to you for this (μέμνησο ὅτι πρὸς τοῦτο ἡ εὐμένειά σοι δέδοται). The gods themselves are kind (εὐμενεῖς) to such people, and even help them (συνεργοῦσιν) to certain ends, to health, to wealth, to reputation, so beneficent are they (οὕτως εἰσὶ χρηστοί). And you have the power to do so too (ἔξεστι δὲ καὶ σοί); or tell me this, who is preventing you (τίς ὁ κωλύων)? (M.A. Med. 9.11, trans. Hard, adapted) That the gods themselves would actively collaborate with bad people through divination so that they can obtain indifferent things such as health, wealth and reputation is quite remarkable and, one would think, rather unholy. Why would the gods do such a thing? Is there not, after all, some

252  Chapter 8 ground in the accusation levelled against them as being unjust in the way they distribute things that are intermediate? To answer that question, one must, first of all, pay attention to the context of those passages. In both cases, the attitude of the gods is presented as a manifestation of their benevolence, which one should emulate in one’s own dealings with bad people. That the gods love even the bad people is a testament to how good and beneficent they are. To love bad people is one thing, but to help them acquire those false goods that the intermediate things are, is quite another. Is there not another way for the gods to show their benevolence? The answer is given in the second passage, where Marcus distinguishes between two ways of being beneficent to others: through instruction or through kindness. This is not an accidental distinction since one finds it elsewhere in the Meditations: T8-33a Human beings have come into the world for the sake of one another; either instruct them, then, or put up with them (ἢ δίδασκε οὖν ἢ φέρε). (M.A. Med. 8.59, trans. Hard) T8-33b How cruel (Πῶς ὠμόν) it is not to permit people to have an impulse towards what they regard as familiar and advantageous to themselves (ὁρμᾶν ἐπὶ τὰ φαινόμενα αὐτοῖς οἰκεῖα καὶ συμφέροντα). And yet, in a sense, you are not permitting them to do so whenever you grow angry at their bad behaviour. For it is surely the case that they are drawn (φέρονται) towards what they consider to be suitable and advantageous to themselves. ‘Yes, but they are wrong to think that.’ Well, instruct them, then, and show them the truth, without becoming angry. (M.A. Med. 6.27, trans. Hard, adapted) Here, we find the reason why neither we (see supra T8-24) nor the gods should refuse to allow other people to aim at what they consider as advantageous, even when they are mistaken: that would be cruel, say Marcus. And the reason is that one cannot blame human beings for having an impulse towards what they take to be suitable and advantageous to them: that is just how human beings behave. Besides, Marcus stresses the fact that human impulses fully depend on judgements (about what is advantageous or not) and, as we have seen (T8-18a-c), judgements are the sovereign causes of a human being’s actions. In other words, one cannot blame bad people for focusing at the things they aim at, because they are, in a sense, constrained to act the way they do (see also supra T8-5). Rather than blaming bad people (and insisting that they are responsible for their actions and should be punished), we should, like the gods, try to either instruct them or show kindness (see infra T8-32b) towards them. Instruction should always be the preferred way, since it is only through instruction that faulty judgements can be corrected.

Marcus Aurelius on providence  253 But, obviously, it is not always possible to change other people’s mind, and, in that case, one should practise kindness (εὐμένεια), one of the good emotions of the Stoic sage,56 defined in our sources as a sort of good disposition (εὔνοια)57: while a good disposition is ‘wishing for good things for another person for that person’s own sake’,58 kindness is a sort of good disposition that is ‘lasting’ or even ‘persevering’ (ἐπίμονος),59 a word that maybe conveys the idea that kindness is that special sort of good emotion one has to use in relation to people with whom one disagrees but towards which one should always remain well disposed. 4.3 Marcus’ views on politics and his benevolence towards the people Marcus’ views on politics and also, I submit, his political actions as emperor owe a lot to his Stoic convictions. Contrary to Nero, who needed a Seneca to try and keep his power in check (see Chapter 6, section 4.1), Marcus was very much aware of the dangers that come with political power. Here is how he apparently reacted when he was adopted in order to become, eventually, emperor: T8-34 And it was on the day that Verus [= Marcus] was adopted that he dreamed that he had shoulders of ivory, and when he asked if they were capable of bearing a burden, he found them much stronger than before. When he discovered, moreover, that Hadrian had adopted him, he was appalled rather than overjoyed (magis est deterritus quam laetatus), and when told to move to the private home of Hadrian, reluctantly (inuitus) departed from his mother’s villa. And when the members of his household asked him why he was sorry (tristis) to receive royal adoption, he enumerated to them the evil things that sovereignty involved (disputauit, quae mala in se contineret imperium). (SHA, Vita Marci 5.2–4, trans. Magie, adapted) The reason why Marcus was so unwilling to accept the power over the Roman Empire60 is not that he thought that he was not up to the task: after all, he had ‘ivory shoulders’. But, while most people would look at the imperium as the greatest good one could ever dream of, Marcus thought otherwise. He even tried to explain to his friends that absolute power comes with many evils. Thanks to his Meditations, we are in a position to understand what he meant by that: T8-35 From Fronto: [a] to have some conception of the malice (βασκανία), caprice (ποικιλία), and hypocrisy (ὑπόκρισις) that are characteristic of tyranny (τυραννική); [b] and that, on the whole, those whom we call ‘patricians’ (οἱ καλούμενοι οὗτοι παρ’ ἡμῖν εὐπατρίδαι) are, in a sense, the most lacking in affection (ἀστοργότεροί πως εἰσί). (M.A. Med. 1.11, trans. Hard, adapted)

254  Chapter 8 Either from Fronto’s teaching or from the personal conversations he had with him, Marcus says that he established that tyranny or absolute power is full of evils, and by that, he clearly meant moral evils: it makes you malicious, capricious and hypocritical. That is why he only reluctantly accepted the prospect of becoming the most powerful man on earth: he was well aware that absolute power always brings the danger of moral corruption.61 The second part of the passage stresses one particular quality which Marcus saw was lacking in aristocrats and politicians: φιλοστοργία. Although that quality was of particular interest to Fronto himself, who famously wrote that that virtue was not Roman and that ‘no one at Rome is φιλόστοργος’,62 it is likely that, as a Stoic, φιλοστοργία struck a particular chord with Marcus. Indeed, as we have seen in Chapter 7, φιλοστοργία is a key notion in the Stoic account of the origin of society (see T7-29): no society can arise and be maintained without that genuine affection between human beings and, first of all, between parents and their children. Although the Stoics insist that φιλοστοργία is natural to human beings, they also recognize that it can be perverted (see T7-31, with commentary), and it seems that it is that perversion that Marcus has in mind when he says that ‘those whom we call “patricians” are, in a sense, the most lacking in φιλοστοργία’. The expression οἱ καλούμενοι (‘those we call’) suggests that, in Marcus’ view, the word ‘patrician’ is not correctly applied because those persons that we call patricians in fact do lack in affection. Maybe Marcus is alluding to the etymological and historical meaning of the word ‘patrician’ (patricius, εὐπατρίδης), that of the founding fathers (patres) of Rome: patricians, by definition, are supposed to show towards the Roman people the same kind of parental affection that fathers have for their children; in reality, they have no φιλοστοργία, and thus do not deserve the name ‘patricians’. In his Meditations, we find evidence that Marcus used philosophy to avoid the danger of moral corruption that political power necessarily brings: T8-36 Take care that you are not turned into a Caesar (Ὅρα μὴ ἀποκαισαρωθῇς), that you are not stained with the purple; for such things do come about. Keep yourself simple, then, and good, sincere, dignified, free from affectation, a friend to justice (τοῦ δικαίου φίλον), reverent towards the gods, kind (εὐμενῆ), affectionate (φιλόστοργον), and firm in the performance of what is fit. Struggle to remain the kind of person that philosophy wanted to make you. Respect the gods (αἰδοῦ θεούς), preserve the human beings (σῷζε ἀνθρώπους). (M.A. Med. 6.30, trans. Hard, adapted) As Gill writes in his commentary, ‘[t]he list of target-qualities’ that we find in this passage ‘can all be seen, in different ways, as characteristics of a non-tyrannical ruler’.63 Indeed, Marcus wants at all cost not ‘to turn into a Caesar’. Two of these target-qualities are of special importance to us:

Marcus Aurelius on providence  255 kindness (εὐμένεια) and affection (φιλοστοργία), presented side by side. They both imply a form of deep care for others and, in the case of a ruler, for his people. As Marcus writes at the end of the passage, his motto is to respect the gods and to preserve the human beings he governs. In other words, as an emperor, he must do everything in his power to preserve or improve the well-being of the people. We have seen that, in his account of providence, Marcus distinguishes between two ways through which one can be advantageous to human beings: instruction and kindness (including forbearance). While his Meditations shows that instruction should be the preferred way, it appears that, when it is the well-being of a whole nation that is at stake, it is simply not an option: T8-37 You should not hope for Plato’s ideal state (μὴ τὴν Πλάτωνος πολιτείαν ἔλπιζε), but be satisfied to make even the smallest advance, and regard such an outcome as nothing contemptible. For who can change people’s convictions (δόγμα γὰρ αὐτῶν τίς μεταβαλεῖ)? And without that change of conviction, what else is there than the slavery (δουλεία) of people who grumble away while making a show of obedience (πείθεσθαι προσποιουμένων)? (M.A. Med. 9.29, trans. Hard, adapted) Marcus is well aware that the sort of actions a person can undertake vary immensely depending on whether one acts as a private citizen or as a statesman. The Stoic statesman will not try to create a perfect politeia where all the citizens are sages, because that is just impossible. Trying to create heaven on earth is simply contrary to the views of the Stoa in the sense that it would lead to the confusion of what in fact must be distinguished: that only the world itself is a perfect city, while the small human cities are, at best, approximations of it.64 In the case of those human and flawed cities, the major hurdle, Marcus says, is to change people’s beliefs (δόγμα), and by that he principally means their deep convictions about what is good and what is bad. Cities are generally presented by the Stoics as places where the dominant morality is the morality of the many,65 whereas Stoic ethics is usually presented as paradoxical, that is, as going against the doxai or reputable opinions that are current in a given city. True education66 (philosophy) cannot be realistically applied to a whole nation. That, in our passage, seems to lead Marcus to an uncharacteristically pessimistic conclusion: since one cannot change the moral beliefs of the people, then the people cannot but become a slave, incapable of true obedience. However, other texts show that Marcus was eager to create the political conditions of genuine obedience, one that is based on freedom. Before looking at them, it is important to remind us of the link between freedom and providence. For Marcus, what is most distinctive of divine providence is that it is about making human beings free (see T8-11 [b]), and, as the last

256  Chapter 8 passage suggests, freedom is not incompatible with obedience. Another passage further clarifies that point: T8-38 Picture to yourself who is pained or displeased (λυπούμενον ἢ δυσαρεστοῦντα) at anything that comes to pass as being like a little pig kicking and squealing at the sacrifice. So, also, is one who alone on his bed silently laments the chains (τὴν ἔνδεσιν) that hold us down. Reflect, too, that it is granted to a rational creature alone (μόνῳ τῷ λογικῷ ζῴῳ δέδοται) to obey of his own free will what must come about (τὸ ἑκουσίως ἕπεσθαι τοῖς γινομένοις); as for merely obeying it, that is a necessity for all (τὸ δὲ ἕπεσθαι ψιλὸν πᾶσιν ἀναγκαῖον). (M.A. Med. 10.28, trans. Hard, adapted) Marcus describes ‘displeasure’ (δυσαρέστησις) with what happens as the condition of a slave or a prisoner and ‘voluntary obedience’ (ἑκουσίως ἕπεσθαι) as freedom, and he explains that human beings have been ‘endowed’ (δέδοται) by god with this unique power of freely obeying what happens. The last part of the passage echoes the well-known Stoic simile of a dog tied to a cart67 which the Stoics used to describe the condition of human beings with regard to fate (or simply, ‘what happens’): they must follow (obey) what happens, but they can do it voluntarily or not, and, in that last case, be like a dog dragged by a moving cart. That image, we recall, was also used by Seneca, in a context that is similar to that of T8-37: the question of the obedience of the people to its ruler. Seneca explains (T6-27) that, given the peculiar nature of human beings (more inclined to follow than to be dragged), a good ruler must show clemency, a virtue most appropriate to human beings. A similar attitude, we will see, was adopted by Marcus, closely linked to the notion of kindness (εὐμένεια). The importance Seneca gives to clemency shows that, for a Stoic, there are ways other than instructions to obtain true obedience: a ruler must treat human beings as the naturally free creatures they are. Marcus fully agrees, and it is no coincidence that, in the only detailed account of his political views he gives in the Meditations, he makes freedom a priority: T8-39 Through him (i.e. Severus) [a] I came to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dio, Brutus, and [b] grasped the impression of a state based on equal political participation (πολιτείας ἰσονόμου), administered according to the principles of equality and freedom of speech (κατ’ ἰσότητα καὶ ἰσηγορίαν διοικουμένης), and [c] of a kingship which values above all things the freedom of those who are governed (βασιλείας τιμώσης πάντων μάλιστα τὴν ἐλευθερίαν τῶν ἀρχομένων). (M.A. Med. 1.14, trans. Hard, adapted) The three sections of the text all touch on the issue of freedom. Marcus starts [a] with a list of philosophers (who were also professional statesmen)

Marcus Aurelius on providence  257 who historically rose up against tyranny.68 He then proceeds [b] with a depiction of the best politeia as one based on ἰσονομία (as already defended by Posidonius according to T5-25), a word better rendered here by ‘equal political participation’ than by ‘equality before the law’. We have seen (in section 4.2) that the Stoics in general, and Marcus in particular, defend a conception of justice as ‘fair and equal apportionment’. Ἰσονομία as ‘equality by law, equal share, equal participation in the exercise of power’69 fits better with this understanding of justice. It also fits well with two major political decisions which Marcus took as an emperor: that of sharing the principatus with his brother,70 and that of returning some of the imperial prerogatives to the senate.71 The idea of a fair share is also present in the two other terms he uses: ἰσότης (which he employs in his depiction of justice)72 and ἰσηγορία (equal right of speech). Finally [c], Marcus makes it clear that the state should value the freedom of the people above everything else. From the Historia Augusta, we learn that not only did Marcus actively work in favour of the freedom of his people, but that he did it not through instruction but through kindness and forbearance: T8-40 Towards the people he acted just as one acts in a free state (Cum populo autem non aliter egit, quam est actum sub ciuitate libera). He was at all times exceedingly reasonable (moderantissimus) both in restraining people from evil and in urging them to good, generous in rewarding and quick to forgive (emunerandis copia, indulgentia liberandis), thus making bad people good, and good people very good, and he even bore with unruffled temper the insolence of not a few. (SHA, Vita Marci 12.1–2, trans. Magie, adapted) So, the Vita Marci confirms Marcus’ commitment to the freedom of the people and explains that by that one means a commitment to the moral improvement of the people. A free state is a state where, contrary to what is the case in a tyranny, the people are properly looked after and cared for. Interestingly for us, the description it gives of Marcus’ attitude matches very well the way Marcus himself, in the Meditations, explains how one should behave with other fellow human beings, especially those whose judgements cannot be changed by instruction: T8-41 Until that moment [i.e. death] arrives what should suffice? What else than to worship and praise the gods, and do good (εὖ ποιεῖν) to your fellows, and put up with them and show tolerance (ἀνέχεσθαι αὐτῶν καὶ ἀπέχεσθαι). (M.A. Med. 5.33, trans. Hard) The correspondence between what the author of the Vita Marci reports and what we have found in the Meditations shows that Marcus’ benevolence and the value he gave to the freedom of the people were shaped by his Stoic views on human nature and providence. If human beings are, by nature, free,

258 Chapter 8 Marcus, as a ruler, had to find a way, for the sake of the cohesion and unity of the state, to obtain and maintain free and voluntary obedience. Since instruction is not possible on the scale of a whole nation, true obedience can be obtained through kindness, a virtue that is not too far away from Seneca’s clemency. Both are especially adapted to deal with the rational and therefore free nature of human beings which was granted to them by the gods.

Notes 1 See the compelling study of Gourinat 2012a, which refutes the views defended by Rist 1982 and Annas 2004. 2 See M.A. Med. 1.17.22. See also 2.17.3: ‘So what can serve as our escort and guide? One thing and one alone, philosophy’ (trans. Hard). 3 See M.A. Med. 8.1.5. 4 See M.A. Med. 1.17.10, as well as 1.7, 1.8 and 1.15. For a detailed presentation of those influential Stoics, see Hadot 1998a: XC (Apollonius), LXXXIV (Rusticus), and CXV (Maximus). 5 See Cic. Fin. 3.21 = SVF 3.188. 6 See Plut. St. rep. 12.1038B = SVF 3.674, where that doctrine is ascribed to Chrysippus. See also D.L. 7.123 = SVF 3.642, and Gourinat 2016c: 48. 7 See Aul. Gel. NA 7.2.11 = SVF 2.1000 and 62D4 L.-S. 8 See M.A. Med. 12.5. 9 See Posidonius F169 E.-K. 10 Kidd 1983. See Ranocchia 2012 for a criticism of Kidd’s thesis. 11 See Posidonius F163 E.-K. 12 For the good of the whole as being the ‘main concern’ (μάλιστα προνοοῦνται) of the gods, see M.A. Med. 6.44 (quoted in T8-27a). 13 See SHA, Vita Marci 3.2 and Hadot 1998a: CXVI-CXVII. 14 This, Marcus would use as an encouragement not to fall into vice: ‘You must stay right, not be set right (ὀρθὸν οὖν εἶναι χρή, οὐχὶ ὀρθούμενον)’ (M.A. Med. 3.5.4). 15 As in M.A. Med. 12.14. 16 In addition to the references listed below, see Giavatto 2008: 213–228. 17 See Rist 1982, Cooper 2004, and Annas 2004. 18 See Lévi 2007 and Pià Comella 2014: 452. 19 Hadot 1998b: 149–151 and Gourinat 2012a: 79–81. Both recall an important text of Seneca (Ep. 16.4–6) that shows that a Stoic can very well list a series of incompatible hypotheses about the world (that it is governed either by fate, or god or chance) and treat these hypotheses, for the sake of the argument, as genuine possible explanations, in order to conclude for the necessity of doing philosophy. 20 See, for instance, M.A. Med. 9.28.3: ‘As to the whole, if it be god, all is well; but if it is governed by chance, you should not on that account allow yourself to be governed by chance’ (trans. Hard). See also infra T8-27b. 21 See also Musonius Diss. 12, p. 66, 2–6 Hense and 16, p. 87, 14–18 Hense, and Epict. D. 4.1.68. On these texts, see Collette-Dučić 2019: 433–441. 22 The only time Marcus uses the word ‘προαίρεσις’ is in a quotation from Epictetus: see M.A. Med. 11.36. Elsewhere, he uses the adjectival forms: προαιρετικός (pertaining to the faculty of choice) and ἀπροαίρετος (not within the control or jurisdiction of the faculty of choice). 23 See e.g. M.A. Med. 3.6.4, 6.14.2 and 10.2.3. 24 In M.A. Med. 11.8.5–6, Marcus recognizes that cutting oneself off repeatedly makes the chances of being able to reunite with other fellow human beings ever less likely.

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25 See Mitsis 1999: 162, and Wildberger 2018: 18. 26 Epict. D. 2.1.13: τὸ ἐξεῖναι ὡς βουλόμεθα διεξάγειν. 27 See D.L. 7.121 = SVF 3.355 and 67M1 L.-S.: ‘Only the sage is free (ἐλεύθερον), while the wicked are slaves; for freedom is the right to manage one’s own business (ἐξουσίαν αὐτοπραγίας), while slavery is the privation of that right’. 28 Origen, Comm. in Io. 2.16.112 = SVF 3.544. 29 See L.S.J. s.v. 30 See M.A. Med. 5.27. 31 Stob. Ecl. 2.77.21: εὔροια βίου. 32 See Epict. D. 4.4.5. 33 Marcus did not intend his Meditations to be made public, and it was written for himself alone. 34 Marcus lists three distinct sorts of activities, which Hadot has rightly identified as the three core disciplines of Epictetus’ philosophy: assent (‘absence of precipitation’), impulse towards action (‘familiarization with humankind’) and desire (to live in accordance with the gods). See Hadot 1998b: 43–47 and 69–70. 35 See infra T10-9a-b, and D.L. 7.104–105 = SVF 3.119, 3.126 and 58B L.-S. 36 See Cic. Var. 35–36 = SVF 1.191. 37 The point is made by Hadot 1998b: 71–72. 38 See Gourinat 2012b: 425. 39 For a comprehensive study of his thought, see Ioppolo 1980. 40 D.L. 7.160 = SVF 1.351 and 58G L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley. That was Hadot’s original interpretation (in Hadot 1972), which he later abandoned (in Hadot 1998b: 71–72). But the interpretation is still defended, partially at least, today: see e.g. Gourinat 2012b. 41 In a letter Marcus wrote to Fronto when he was 25 years of age (see Fron. Ad M. Caes. 4.13.2–3, p. 67–68 van den Hout), he defends the view of one Aristo which some argue was Aristo of Chios. See Davenport and Manley 2014: 92. 42 See S.E. M 11.64–67 = SVF 1.361 and 58F L.-S. 43 See M.A. Med. 3.11.5, 5.36.1 (quoted in T8-24), 6.45.3 and 11.10.4. 44 It is, nevertheless, true that we find in our sources the expression ‘things that are intermediate’ (τὰ μεταξύ) as referring to the whole set of indifferent things: see D.L. 7.160 = 58G L.-S. Marcus, however, takes τὰ μέσα in the sense of preferred indifferents. 45 Stob. Ecl. 2.92.12–13 = SVF 3.413: λύπην ἐπὶ τῷ δοκοῦντι ἀναξίως κακοπαθεῖν. 46 He is closely following Epictetus here: see D. 1.18.3 and 1.28.9. 47 See M.A. Med. 5.20. On other people as indifferents, see Reydams-Schils 2005: 59–69. 48 M.A. Med. 6.20.1, trans. Hard, adapted. 49 Veyne 2003: 148. I present and refute Veyne’s account in Chapter 10. 50 We have seen that that argument is explicitly used by Seneca: see T6-25 with commentary. 51 With Hadot, I keep the reading of the manuscripts: ἐπινοίαις (instead of ἐπιπνοίαις Casaubon and Dalfen). See Hadot 1998a: 51, n. 22 for a convincing defence of the reading. 52 In his chapter on Marcus Aurelius, J. Pià Comella repeatedly stresses the existence of an apparent tension between ‘the theological argument in favour of divination and the ethical principle of moral autonomy’ (2014: 471). He sees our T8-28 as a sign that Marcus ‘softens’ (infléchit) the principle of moral autonomy according to which no one, not even the gods, has any authority on our own faculty of judgement (2014: 472). Such an interpretation does not, however, take seriously enough the fact that Marcus sees divination as a means of instruction, which is, of course, perfectly compatible with human autonomy. Besides, the

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text makes it clear that Marcus still sees himself as the one responsible for any failure to fully achieve a life in accordance with nature. All in all, Pià Comella’s suggestion that Marcus may have been under the influence of ‘a religiosity that was in keeping with the times (dans l’air du temps) and irreducible to the categories of Stoicism’ (2014: 471) is little convincing. Justice is ‘the disposition of apportioning things to each according to its value (ἕξις ἀπονεμητικὴ τοῦ κατ’ ἀξίαν ἑκάστῳ)’. Cf. Ps.-Andronicus, De pass. 2.1, p. 241.19 Glibert-Thirry. See also Wildberger 2018: 75, who recalls, following Cic. De leg. 1.19 = SVF 3.315, that the Stoics called the law ‘νόμος’ from ‘apportioning to everyone his due’. We have seen in T6-11 and T7-4 that human beings have also been created for the sake of god, in order to contemplate his work (the world). But since human beings possess reason, they are considered to be among the superior natures of the world. Other relevant texts on this issue include M.A. Med. 5.8, 8.6, 8.7.2 and 12.36. The Stoics distinguish between three generic types of good emotions or εὐπάθειαι: joy (χαρά), watchfulness (εὐλάβεια) and wishing (βούλησις). ‘Kindness’ (εὐμένεια) is a subspecies of ‘good disposition’ (εὔνοια), which itself falls into the category of ‘wishing’. See D.L. 7.116 = 65F L.-S, and Graver 2007: 58–59. In addition to D.L. 7.116, see Ps.-Andronicus, De pass. 1.6, p. 235.28–29 Glibert-Thirry = SVF 3.432. Βούλησις ἀγαθῶν ἑτέρῳ αὐτοῦ ἕνεκεν ἐκείνου (trans. Graver 2007: 59). Εὔνοια ἐπίμονος. Marcus’ reluctance to engage in a political career may seem closer to Plato’s doctrine than to the orthodox position of the Stoa (see Chapter 6, section 3.3). Nevertheless, the reason he invokes (the risk of moral corruption) is perfectly in line with Stoicism. It is not because of a lack of will that Marcus is reluctant, but because he knows how fragile human nature can be in face of the corrupting effects of power. Marcus’ account of absolute power and the moral corruption it brings seem to recall Otanes’ speech (in T5-20). That, however, does not imply that he was here at odds with the early Stoics, which claimed (in T5-19a-c) that the sage is free and king (and thus acts in an ‘unaccountable manner’). Clearly, until his death, Marcus never looked at himself as a sage, and that is why he knew of the dangers there is for him to be bequeathed absolute political power. On Marcus and whether he viewed himself as a philosopher and a sage, see Gourinat 2012a. See Fron. Ad Verum 1.6.7, p. 111 van den Hout. A commentary of the letter is given in Davenport and Manley 2014: 149–154. See also Fleury 2003: 190–191 and Aubert 2011. Gill 2013: 183. On the idea that the polities of the small, human cities must be measured against the standard of the cosmic city, see Wildberger 2018: 117, with relevant references. See Sen. Ep. 94.54–55, and Ot. 1.3. See D.L. 7.8 where that expression is used by Zeno in a letter to King Antigonus II Gonatas of Macedonia. Hipp. Ref. 1.21.2 = SVF 2.975 and 62A L.-S. Thrasea Paetus was a Stoic senator who stood up to Nero and was forced, as a result, to kill himself (in 66 A.D.). His son-in-law, Helvidius Priscus, was a Stoic senator executed under Domitian (in 93 A.D.). Cato the Younger, as that is well known, was a Stoic senator of the late Roman republic who fought against Julius Caesar, and who committed suicide at Utica, after Caesar’s victory (in 46 B.C.). His son-in-law, Brutus, was one of the leaders of the conspiracy against Caesar and a follower of Antiochus of Ascalon, an Academic philosopher who endorsed many Stoic doctrines. As to the name ‘Dio’, it probably refers to Dion

Marcus Aurelius on providence

261

of Syracuse, follower of Plato. Although not all of these philosophers and statesmen were Stoics, the fact that Marcus mentions Thrasea, Helvidius and Cato first is probably significant and shows that there was a tradition, within Stoicism, of representing the figure of the philosopher as a defender of freedom against tyranny. 69 Raaflaub 2000: 47. See also the article about the headword ‘ἰσονομία’ written by Raaflaub in Bagnal et alii 2013: 3521–3522. 70 See SHA, Vita Marci 7.5–6: Being forced by the senate to assume the government of the state after the death of the Deified Pius, Marcus made his brother his colleague in the empire, giving him the name Lucius Aurelius Verus Commodus and bestowing on him the titles Caesar and Augustus. Then they began to rule the state on equal terms (Atque ex eo pariter coeperunt rem publicam regere), and then it was that the Roman Empire for the first time had two emperors, when Marcus shared with another the empire he had inherited. (Trans. Magie, adapted) 71 See SHA, Vita Marci 10.1–4: He made the senate the judge in many inquiries and even in those which belonged to his own jurisdiction (maxime ad se pertinentibus iudicem). (…) Nor did any emperors show more respect to the senate than he. To do the senate honour, moreover, he entrusted the settling of disputes to many men of praetorian and consular rank who then held no magistracy, in order that their prestige might be enhanced through their administration of law. (Trans. Magie, adapted) 72 See M.A. Med. 8.7.2: [H]uman nature is part of a nature that is not subject to hindrance and is intelligent and just, in so far as it assigns to every being, equally and in proportion to its worth (ἴσους καὶ κατ’ ἀξίαν), its share of time, substance, cause, activity, and the contingent. (Trans. Hard)

9

Providence and self-preservation

Studies on Stoic providence pay little attention to οἰκείωσις as a manifestation of divine providence. As to the studies on Stoic οἰκείωσις, they tend to limit the relevance of the Stoic doctrine of οἰκείωσις to ethical or epistemological questions about the telos. In neither case is the connection between providence and οἰκείωσις fully acknowledged or examined. In this chapter, we shall concentrate on the significance of the Stoic doctrine of οἰκείωσις in relation to divine providence and see that not only is οἰκείωσις a product of providence, according to the Stoics, but that it was used by them also as an argument for providence.

1 Nature and the heed for self-preservation Let us start with what appears to be the oldest extant account on Stoic οἰκείωσις,1 one from Chrysippus’ On Ends, reported by Diogenes Laertius: T9-1 They [the Stoics] say that an animal has preservation of itself (τὸ τηρεῖν ἑαυτό) as the object of its first impulse (τὴν… πρώτην ὁρμήν), since nature from the beginning familiarizes it2 (οἰκειούσης αὐτὸ τῆς φύσεως ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς), as Chrysippus says in his On Ends book I. The first thing familiar (πρῶτον οἰκεῖον) to every animal, he says, is its own constitution and the consciousness of this. For nature was not likely either to alienate (οὔτε… ἀλλοτριῶσαι) the animal itself, or to produce it (οὔτε ποιήσασαν αὐτό) and then neither alienate it nor familiarize it (μήτ’ ἀλλοτριῶσαι μήτ’ οἰκειῶσαι). So, it remains to say that in constituting the animal, nature familiarized it to itself (αὐτὸ οἰκειῶσαι πρὸς ἑαυτό). This is why the animal rejects what is harmful (τά… βλάπτοντα) and accepts what is familiar (τὰ οἰκεῖα). (D.L. 7.85 = SVF 3.178 and 57A1–2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) Οἰκείωσις is presented here both as a means for ‘self-preservation’ (τὸ τηρεῖν ἑαυτό) and as an act of nature (that is, for the Stoics, god): from the start, nature had made animals familiar and dear to themselves so that they will DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-9

Providence and self-preservation  263 naturally care for themselves. That ‘preservation’ (τήρησις) is given here, as the first purpose of οἰκείωσις is already enough for considering οἰκείωσις as part of the Stoic doctrine of providence. Indeed, as is clear, for instance, from the reading of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, preservation is the primary focus of providence: T9-2 In order to secure the permanence of the world-order (Ut uero perpetuus mundi esset ornatus), divine providence has made most careful provision (magna adhibita cura est a prouidentia deorum) to ensure the continued existence (ut semper essent) of the different kinds of animals, trees, and of whatever things the earth maintains by means of roots. (Cic. ND 2.127, trans. Rackham, adapted) What divine providence is primarily about is the preservation of life, in all its forms, be it of the world in general or of the species or even of individuals (see Chapter 10, section 5). Since οἰκείωσις is also a means for the preservation of life, one must assume that the Stoics discussed it in connection with providence. One might object, perhaps, that if there is such a strong connection between οἰκείωσις and providence, one would have expected to find the topic discussed by Cicero in his On the Nature of the Gods, one of our major sources on Stoic providence. Instead, we see the topic essentially discussed in his On Ends. It is true that Balbus (Cicero’s spokesperson of the Stoa in ND) offers no real theoretical account of οἰκείωσις, and this has certainly contributed to the lack of interest in providence we observe in studies on οἰκείωσις. However, it is not the case that Balbus is avoiding the topic altogether.3 For there is a section (2.121–130) where he presents examples that are traditionally included by the Stoics in their account of οἰκείωσις. The section in question deals with how providence has endowed animals with capacities for survival, so that their species may not go extinct: animals possess capacities for protection, feeding, preying and reproduction. As we shall see in our examination of the Stoic Hierocles, the use of these capacities depends first of all on the animal’s awareness of these capacities and also on a genuine affection for itself. Both elements are central to οἰκείωσις and the latter surfaces quite clearly in the following passage of Balbus’ speech: T9-3 Our wonder is also considerably excited by those aquatic animals which are born on land—crocodiles, for instance, and water-tortoises and certain snakes, which are born on dry land but as soon as they can first crawl make it to the water. Again we often place ducks’ eggs beneath hens, and the chicks that spring from the eggs are at first fed and mothered by the hens that hatched and reared them, and run away when they pursue them, as soon as they have had an opportunity of seeing water, their natural home (naturalem domum). So great is the heed

264  Chapter 9 for its own preservation that nature has implanted in what is animate (Tantam ingenuit animantibus conseruandi sui natura custodiam). (Cic. ND 2.124, trans. Rackham, adapted) Without having been taught, young crocodiles, water-tortoises and hen-reared ducks have an impulse towards what is familiar to their nature and instinctively look at water as their natural ‘habitat’ (domus). Each has been endowed with a genuine care (custodia) for itself, which is itself the reflection of affection or love for oneself. There is no doubt that οἰκείωσις was part of the Stoic account of providence, hence it was discussed not only in books on ethics, but also in books on physics. This is indeed what Plutarch reports: T9-4 Why then again for heaven’s sake in every book on physics and ethics does he [Chrysippus] wear us to death in writing that ‘we are familiarized to ourselves as soon as we are born and with our parts and our offspring? (οἰκειούμεθα πρὸς αὑτοὺς εὐθὺς γενόμενοι καὶ τὰ μέρη καὶ τὰ ἔκγονα τὰ ἑαυτῶν)’. (Plut. St. rep. 12.1038B = SVF 3.179 and 57E1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) But what is it with οἰκείωσις that makes it so important for the Stoics? Can οἰκείωσις be simply listed along with the other goods4 or utilities that the world provides and thanks to which life and its preservation are possible? As we shall see, οἰκείωσις is rather a sine qua non condition for the preservation of life and, in that respect, appears to be necessitated at a much more fundamental level than any other goods that are also deemed necessary for the preservation of life.

2 Oikeiôsis and the preservation of life To see what sort of good οἰκείωσις is, we need first to have a better understanding of οἰκείωσις itself. One extremely valuable account, in that respect, is Hierocles’ in his Elements of Ethics.5 Hierocles, a Stoic of the Imperial era but of unknown precise date,6 is very helpful in that he clearly spells out the two essential ingredients of οἰκείωσις: knowledge of oneself and affection for oneself.7 Significantly, as we are going to see, many of the illustrations he uses in his account are related to life preservation, a subject that is indeed essential to the notion of providence. 2.1 Self-knowledge Stoic standard doctrine holds that animals are born with knowledge8 of themselves,9 that is, of themselves and of their own constitution. As soon as they are born, animals know what is theirs, that is, their parts, and the

Providence and self-preservation  265 reason why they know them is precisely because they are their parts. We may illustrate the point in the following manner: what distinguishes a home (οἶκος) from a house is that a home is not just anyone’s house but one’s own house; a home is no strange place, and we are familiar with everything that it houses. For the Stoics, when one is born, one feels immediately at home with oneself and one’s parts: without having been taught, one immediately knows about everything that is useful in one’s home, that is, about the very existence of the parts that are included in one’s constitution and their functions: T9-5 It is necessary to establish first of all that animals sense-perceive their own parts (τὸ τῶν μερῶν ἑαυτῶν αἰσθάνεσθαι) and to attempt to show that this happens in them from the very beginning. (…) Thus, winged creatures, on the one hand, are aware (ἀντιλαμβάνεται) of the readiness and aptness of their wings for flying, and, on the other hand, every land animal is aware both that it has its own members (ὅτι ἔχει) and for what they are of use (πρὸς ἥν ἔχει χρείαν), and we ourselves are aware of our eyes and ears and other parts. Thus, when we wish to see something, we direct our eyes toward the visible object, not our ears, and when we want to hear, we extend our ears and not our eyes, and when we wish to walk, we do not use our hands for this but rather our feet and our entire legs, and in the same way we do not use our legs but rather our hands when we desire to take or give something. Therefore, the first assurance (πρώτη πίστις) that the entire animal sense-perceives itself (αἰσθάνεσθαι ἑαυτοῦ) is the conscious perception (συναίσθησις) of its parts (τῶν μερῶν) and of the functions (τῶν ἔργων) for which the parts were given (ἐδόθη). (Hier. El. Eth. 1.48–2.3 = 57C2 L.-S., trans. Ramelli and Konstan, adapted) What may be held, at first sight, as simply unproblematic – the natural use of the eyes to see, of the ears to hear, of the legs to walk or run and so forth – is here presented by Hierocles as understandable only if one grants animals a knowledge of themselves. Indeed, in order to use our eyes, we need at the very least to know that we have eyes, and this knowledge is innate in the sense that we have not acquired it. But Hierocles makes the further point that even the basic knowledge that we possess these parts is not enough to account for their use: we cannot use our parts if we do not know for what use they are. That animals perceive not only their parts but for what use their parts are is of course very significant, at least for a teleological system of thought like Stoicism. Should animals possess the knowledge that they have the parts that they happen to have, but not the knowledge of their use, then they would have that knowledge in vain. What makes the innate use of our parts so interesting for the Stoics is that it shows, in their view, that the knowledge of ourselves that we possess is not vain: that knowledge, because it is

266  Chapter 9 complete (it is about the possession of the parts and their use) rather than incomplete, is useful to us, since without it we would simply not be able to make use of our parts. Even if the point is not made here by Hierocles, we may think that the usefulness of such self-knowledge that animals happen to possess is a clear indication that it is the result of divine providence (or nature), that is, that it cannot be explained by chance. We shall return to this point later, in the discussion of the debate between the Stoics and the Epicureans about life preservation and its causes. A second ‘assurance’ (πίστις) that animals possess self-perception (and therefore also οἰκείωσις, even if self-perception must be complemented with self-affection as we will see) is that they perceive their own means of defence: T9-6 The second assurance is the fact that animals are not, by condition, unperceiving of the things with which they have been equipped for their defence (τῶν πρὸς ἄμυναν παρασκευασθέντων). For bulls, when they are readying themselves for a fight with other bulls or with animals of a different species, thrust their horns forward, like weapons that grow naturally for battle. And every other animal is similarly disposed towards its familiar (πρὸς τὸ oἰκεῖον) and, so to speak, inborn (συμφυές) weapon (ὅπλον). For some are fortified with hooves, others with teeth, others with tusks, others with spikes, still others with poisons, and they employ these for defence in clashes with other animals. (Hier. El. Eth. 2.4–13 = 57C3 L.-S., trans. Ramelli and Konstan, adapted) That animals are naturally aware of the means of defence they are equipped with does not fundamentally differ from the point just made about selfperception of one’s own parts and their use. We may ask ourselves why Hierocles presents it as a new and more or less independent confirmation that animals possess self-knowledge at birth. The reason is probably that defence equipment and weaponry constitute a quite distinct topos in itself, which was regularly brought up by ancient philosophers interested in finding out about the causes of the preservation of life. Accordingly, we find it in both providential and anti-providential ancient accounts.10 This is a further indication that οἰκείωσις played an essential part in the Stoic doctrine of providence. The example of the bulls’ horns was standard in Stoic accounts of οἰκείωσις as we find it in Cicero’s account of Stoic ethics11 and in Epictetus. The latter is worth citing: T9-7 How is it that the bull, when the lion attacks, alone perceives his own natural equipment (μόνος αἰσθάνεται τῆς αὑτοῦ παρασκευῆς), and thrusts himself forward to protect the whole herd? Or isn’t it clear that the awareness of ones’ own natural equipment is simultaneous to the possession of it (εὐθὺς ἅμα τῷ τὴν παρασκευὴν ἔχειν ἀπαντᾷ καὶ συναίσθησις αὐτῆς)? (Epict. D. 1.30, trans. Dobbin, adapted)

Providence and self-preservation  267 Both Epictetus and Hierocles make the point that this life-saving natural equipment that animals possess is never given in isolation from the relevant knowledge or awareness (συναίσθησις) of it. Such self-knowledge is ‘inborn’12: only the bull will charge at the lion because the bull alone is equipped to defend the rest of the herd. 2.2 Self-affection Let us move to the second essential component of οἰκείωσις: the affection one has for oneself. For Hierocles, as for the other Stoics, self-affection cannot be treated separately from self-perception: having affection for oneself implies the knowledge or awareness of oneself. This is why self-affection is logically posterior to self-perception.13 Self-perception, on the other hand, does not imply self-affection. For, as Hierocles now explains, it is only when the object of perception or the perception itself (the φαντασία) is pleasing that affection can follow: T9-8 But nature would also be subject to the charge of making these kinds of effort in vain (μάτην) prior to birth, if an animal were not going to be pleased with itself (ἀρέσειν ἑαυτῷ) as soon as it is born. Because of this, no one, it seems to me, not even if he were Margites, could say that an animal, when it has been born, is displeased with itself and with its impression (τῇ φαντασίᾳ) of itself. And, in fact, it does not remain indifferent (ἀρρεπῶς): for not being pleasing (τὸ μὴ εὐαρεστεῖν), no less than displeasure (τῆς δυσαρεστήσεως), leads both to the destruction of the animal (πρός τε ὄλεθρον τοῦ ζῴου) and to a contempt for its own nature (πρὸς κατάγνωσιν φέρει τῆς φύσεως). Consequently, this reasoning compels us to agree that an animal, when it has received the first perception of itself, immediately becomes familiar to itself and to its constitution (εὐθὺς ᾠκειώθη πρὸς ἑαυτὸ καὶ τῆν ἑαυτοῦ σύστασιν). (Hier. El. Eth. 6.40–52, trans. Ramelli and Konstan, adapted) Commentators14 have noticed the clear affinity of this text with T9-1. Both passages consider in a typical fashion the kind of reasoning or deliberation one can attribute to nature or divine providence ‘before’ the birth of animals, in view of the preservation of their future life. The argument is built on the premise that ‘nature does not work in vain’, an expression we find usually in teleological philosophical accounts15 of the world. It is therefore a highly qualified sort of nature that Hierocles is presupposing, one that does not simply account for life but for the preservation of life. For such a nature, there would be no point in bringing animals to life without also granting them what is necessary for their survival. And what is necessary here is having affection or love for oneself. If what animals immediately got to know at birth (themselves) was causing ‘displeasure’ (δυσαρέστησις) to them, or was simply ‘not pleasing’ (μὴ εὐαρεστεῖν), then they would not have an impulse towards themselves and, as a consequence,

268  Chapter 9 would not survive. In other words, because they would be lacking the relevant affection about themselves, they would have no particular motivation to do anything for themselves. The reasoning, concludes Hierocles, compels us to acknowledge that ‘when [an animal] has received the first perception of itself, [it] immediately becomes familiar to itself and to its constitution’. This argument cannot prove providence, nor does it even intend to, since it starts with providence as its premise. But Hierocles provides also another argument, this time empirically based16: T9-9 It seems to me, at all events, that the facts themselves (αὐτὰ τὰ γινόμενα) support the argument. What, then? Is it not the case that, in accord with its own ability, each animal does what contributes to its own preservation (ποιεῖ τὸ ἐπιβάλλον ὑπὲρ τῆς ἑαυτοῦ συντηρήσεως), avoiding every attack even from afar and contriving to remain unharmed by dangers, while it leaps toward whatever brings safety and provides for itself from far and wide whatever tends towards its survival? For, in truth, we can find that not only those that excel for the wondrous beauty and size and are outstanding in their particular strength or speed (οὐ γὰρ δὴ τὰ θαυμαστοῖς κάλλεσι καὶ μεγέθεσιν ὑπερέχοντα μόνα καί τισιν ἀλκαῖς ἢ τάχεσι διαφέροντα) are such in respect to their own preservation (τοιαῦτα περὶ τὴν ἑαυτῶν ὄντα συντήρησιν), but also those that are small and of no account and in some other way unsightly (ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ μικρὰ καὶ εὐτελῆ καὶ τὴν ἄλλως εἰδεχθῆ). For nature is cunning (δεινή) at instilling even in such creatures a powerful affection for themselves (σφοδρὸν ἵμερον), because their survival would otherwise be impossible (ἄπορον). (Hier. El. Eth. 6.53–7.5, trans. Ramelli and Konstan, adapted) Even if that new argument is primarily intended to prove that animals have, from birth, affection for themselves, it can still be seen as an argument the Stoics used in order to prove divine providence. It is a clear empirical fact, says Hierocles, that all animals (however great or insignificant they may be) are striving to stay alive. But that could not be the case if they had no affection for themselves. We can easily understand why an animal that is beautiful and outstanding in strength and speed would have affection for itself. But then what about these animals that are ugly and weak? They too are striving to survive, which means that they too must have affection for themselves. Now this could not be the case if nature had not instilled ‘even in such creatures a powerful affection for themselves, because their survival would otherwise be impossible’. We can see here how Hierocles’ argument can be taken as an argument for providence. The case of ugly and weak animals caring for themselves is extraordinary and even impossible: on the one hand, they must be pleased with themselves once they get their first awareness of themselves (at birth), otherwise they would have no affection for themselves and, as a consequence, would have no chance of surviving; on the other hand, it seems impossible

Providence and self-preservation  269 for those animals to be pleased with themselves and have a desire for themselves since desire is for the beautiful and the strong, features they patently lack. There remains therefore only one explanation: it is nature (god) that has granted these poor creatures a powerful affection (σφοδρὸν ἵμερον) for themselves, that is, an affection that is so powerful that it can stand even ugliness.17 This last point is particularly important for our understanding of οἰκείωσις in relation to providence. It is not only the case, as we have seen, that οἰκείωσις is a direct product of providence and should therefore be examined in the light of the Stoic doctrine of providence. It is also the case that οἰκείωσις was used by the Stoics to prove the very existence of providence. In other words, the very existence of οἰκείωσις, which one must admit if one wants to account for the possibility of the preservation of life, is apparently held by the Stoics as a proof of divine providence, since other explanations simply fail. If this is the case, we may assume that, for the Stoics, οἰκείωσις was a product of nature that could not be explained by the rival Epicurean school, for it denied divine providence. We shall return to this point later. 2.3 Oikeiôsis as a sine qua non condition What kind of ‘good’, if any, is οἰκείωσις? So far, we have come across two sorts of means granted to animals by nature so that they may survive. In the first group, we may list together capacities like the force of the lion, the horns of the bull, the spite of the ant and so forth: T9-10 What a variety there is of animals, and what capacity (uis) they possess of persisting true to their various kinds! Some of them are protected by hides, others are clothed with fleeces, others bristle with spines; some we see covered with feathers, some with scales, some armed with horns, some equipped with wings to escape their foes. (Cic. ND 2.121, trans. Rackham) All these are capacities provided to these animals so that they can protect themselves or find food. In the second group, there is only one item: οἰκείωσις. Οἰκείωσις is clearly not comparable to these capacities, even if it serves the same goal. The bull will only be able to use its horns to defend the herd if at first it possesses the knowledge of them (both that it has horns and what is their use); it will not have the will to use them if at first it does not have a natural affection for itself. Οἰκείωσις appears therefore to be a sine qua non condition of the preservation of life, that without which any other means on offer for staying alive would be useless. The point is made by Seneca: T9-11 Nor is it surprising that animals are born with this , since without it (sine quo) they would be born in vain ( frustra). Nature contributed this as the first instrument of all (primum hoc instrumentum

270  Chapter 9 illa) for survival (ad permanendum): recommendation to18 and affection for oneself (conciliationem et caritatem sui). They could not have been safe (salua) if they had not wanted to be (nisi uellent), and this would not in itself (per se) have benefited (profuturum) them, but without it (sine hoc) nothing else would have benefited them (nulla res profuisset). (Sen. Ep. 121.24, trans. Fantham, adapted) Seneca is here making an important distinction between οἰκείωσις, on the one hand, and the capacities that providence grants animals for their survival, on the other hand. These capacities are benefitting those who possess them in the sense that they are useful for their preservation and safety. But, in themselves, they are useless: if you grant the bull horns without giving it also οἰκείωσις towards itself in both its dimensions (cognitive and affective), then these horns will have been given in vain. First, as we have seen in T9-5, what familiarization to oneself provides, at its most fundamental level, is the knowledge of the use. The simple possession of the horns will not suffice for the bull to be able to use it: without it, it would be a wasted capacity. Second, without familiarization to oneself, one would lack the necessary desire to live: if the bull knows how to use horns and for what purpose it possesses them, but lacks the desire to live, it will make no use of its horns, and, again, these capacities will be wasted. What makes the capacities for survival what they are, that is, useful tools for survival, is οἰκείωσις. Thus understood, οἰκείωσις appears to be the ‘first instrument of all’, the one that makes useful and advantageous all the other secondary tools that capacities are. Now, it is easy to fail to notice this difference between οἰκείωσις and capacities, as it is easy to take for granted the use of eyes and ears (T9-5). Hence, it is easy to fail to acknowledge the existence of οἰκείωσις and think one can account for the survival of the species without it. In that sense, we may take Seneca’s insistence on the specificity of οἰκείωσις compared to other so-called goods as in part directed against those philosophers who appear to make no use of it. If that is the case, who would Seneca be targeting? The obvious candidate would seem to be the Epicureans who emphatically denied providence and teleology. If the Epicureans did away with οἰκείωσις (something we still have to examine and will in the following section), then it is reasonable to think that Seneca’s insistence that οἰκείωσις is a sine qua non condition for capacities to become truly advantageous is a way to underline the fundamental failure of the Epicurean account of life and its preservation. In any case, as we will see, we have other evidence showing that οἰκείωσις was used by the Stoics as a weapon against the Epicureans.

3 Providence or atoms? The Epicurean challenge Once one has acknowledged that οἰκείωσις is, for the Stoics, a product of providence and that it is even used by them as an argument for providence, it becomes clear that we should broaden the scope of our research and include

Providence and self-preservation  271 Epicureanism. For the Epicureans and their atomistic chance-based doctrine of the world were the arch-rivals of the teleological and providential Stoic account of the world. The question then is as follows: How important an argument was the οἰκείωσις doctrine with regard to the Stoic account of providence? Did Epicureans ever try either to appropriate the idea of familiarization with oneself or to criticize it? The story of the full debate surrounding this question is lost, but we have at least enough material to reconstruct a coherent picture. 3.1 Oikeiôsis and the cradle argument The ‘cradle argument’ is an expression coined by Jacques Brunschwig after Piso19 (Antiochus of Ascalon’s spokesperson in the Cicero’s On Ends). The argument is described by Bruschwig as follows: T9-12 (It is) a procedure which consists first in describing (or in claiming to describe) the behaviour and psychology of the child in the cradle (usually in conjunction with young animals), and then in drawing (or in claiming to draw), more or less directly, certain conclusions which, in one way or another, lead to the formulation and justification of a moral doctrine. (Brunschwig 1986: 113) Thus described, the cradle argument is essentially morally aimed. Most of the doctrines of the telos (or supreme good) of the Hellenistic schools are indeed making use of such a procedure. Historically, the first were the Epicureans, as we have already noticed, who claimed that to look into the cradle is sufficient for recognizing that it is pleasure that one should seek after, and pain that one should avoid.20 However, in the case of the Stoics, the cradle argument was not directly used as a means to disclose the human telos,21 for, contrary to the Epicureans, they did not think that it is at its inception that nature expresses itself best. They were rather siding with Aristotle who states that ‘what each thing is when its generation is complete is what we say is its nature’.22 It would be therefore pointless in their view to try to determine the natural telos of human beings at a time when their nature has not yet been shaped by reason. For reason is like a craftsman in regard to human beings’ impulses.23 Given these considerations, we might perhaps even wonder why the Stoics were interested in the cradle argument in the first place. There were, I believe, two main reasons: one concerned with ethics, the other with physics and theology. The first reason is itself twofold. First, as we have just recalled, the cradle argument was used by the Epicureans as a means to prove their telos and it was therefore pivotal for the Stoics to disprove them on their own ground. Second, like other Schools, the Stoics upheld that our life should be led ‘in accordance with nature’, and this in itself justified an

272  Chapter 9 examination of the first natural impulses of human beings and animals. As to the second reason, it is the one we have already started investigating: the Stoic doctrine of providence requires them to understand what is necessary for the conservation of life and therefore to look at life, at its inception, ‘in the cradle’. 3.2 Hierocles’ attack on Epicureanism That the οἰκείωσις doctrine of the Stoics at least partly aimed at criticizing the ethical account of the Epicureans is well known and well attested.24 That it may also have targeted the Epicurean account of life and its preservation is a suggestion I would like to develop here. For that, let us return for a moment to the second argument provided by Hierocles as a proof that the affection animals have for themselves can be explained only by providence (T9-9). Let us first recall its main points. Hierocles presents self-affection as logically posterior to self-perception: first one becomes aware of oneself and one’s constitution, and only then one has self-affection. Self-perception is the basis of the whole process. Furthermore, according to Hierocles (T9-8), sense-perceptions themselves or rather the impressions (φαντασίαι) produced by sense-perception are necessarily threefold: pleasing (εὐαρεστεῖν), displeasing (δυσαρέστησις) or simply not pleasing (μὴ εὐαρεστεῖν). If an animal is ‘beautiful’ and ‘outstanding in its particular strength or speed’, it and the perception of it shall necessarily be ‘pleasing’ (T9-9). The opposite is also true: the sense-perception an animal has of itself, if that animal is deprived of beauty, strength and speed, shall necessarily be displeasing, or, at the very least, ‘not pleasing’. But if this is so, how can we account for the fact that even the lowest of animals manifest, through their striving for survival, genuine affection for themselves? The only possible answer is that it is nature that has endowed them with a powerful affection for themselves, powerful enough to make them insensitive to their own repulsive constitution. And if nature has done this, it is out of sheer providence, for, otherwise, it would not be possible for the life of every animal species to be maintained. It is difficult not to be stricken by the hedonistic vocabulary used by Hierocles. Although it cannot be found in the extant texts of Epicurus, the use of the verb εὐαρεστεῖσθαι is, however, attested in Diogenes Laertius’ Life of Epicurus, in a passage that precisely recalls how Epicurus, by resorting to the cradle argument, proved that pleasure is the telos: T9-13 Epicurus presents as proof that pleasure is the end, the fact that living things, so soon as they are born (ἅμα τῷ γεννηθῆναι), are pleased (εὐαρεστεῖσθαι) with pleasure and repelled (προσκρούειν) by pain, naturally (φυσικῶς) and independently from reason (χωρὶς λόγου). Left to our own feelings (αὐτοπαθῶς), then, we shun pain. (D.L. 10.137, trans. Hicks, adapted)

Providence and self-preservation  273 25

According to Brunschwig, Epicurus does not seem to have clearly decided whether the experience of pleasure precedes (logically and chronologically) the impulsion towards pleasure or whether it is the other way around. However, it seems to me difficult to think that Epicurus may have assumed that we can have an impulsion towards something that we do not know (i.e. that we are not somehow aware of). Like the Stoics, he must have thought that we must have first some knowledge of pleasure before we can seek after it. In any case, later Epicureans, who held that ‘there is as it were a natural and innate conception in our minds by which we are aware that [pleasure] is to be sought and [pain] to be shunned’,26 agree with this premise: we must first have some knowledge of pleasure. Now, since the idea of having an innate conception of pleasure seems to have arisen in Epicureanism later than Epicurus himself, we can assume that it is not, at least not explicitly, present in our passage. It seems therefore that the most natural reading of the text would be as follows: as soon as we are born, we use our senses and, as a result, experience feelings of pleasure and pain; this first (necessary) encounter with pleasure and pain makes the former (necessarily) dear to us (for pleasure is pleasing) and the latter (necessarily) repelling. The whole process is natural (that is, necessary) and independent from reason (and so also trustworthy). Let us suppose that the way Hierocles worded his argument reflects a direct attack on his part against Epicureanism, in particular against pleasure as a behavioural motive. We may read him as follows: first (a), Epicureans, like the Stoics, rightly believe that, as soon as we are born, we use our senses and experience pleasure and pain; second (b), they also believe, like the Stoics, that as soon as we are born, we have sense-perception of our parts and constitution. Third (c), unlike the Stoics, they do not recognize that divine providence exists. This is their mistake: for (a) and (b) are enough to account for the conservation of life in some cases only, not in all; in particular, (a) and (b) cannot explain how base animals (who lack beauty and physical excellences) can have an impulsion towards themselves and therefore strive to survive. 3.3 Lucretius on sense-perceiving one’s own capacities Of course, the reading of Hierocles’ argument just proposed assumes that the Epicureans accepted (b). To my knowledge, this is not positively attested of Epicurus. However, Lucretius appears to endorse at least one version of it: T9-14 But nature (natura) forced [human beings] to send out the various sounds of the tongue, and usefulness (utilitas) forced out the names of things, in no very different way than speechlessness of the tongue is seen to drive children to gesture when it makes them point out what things are present with a finger. For each creature feels how far it is able to use its capacities (sentit enim uis quisque suas quoad posit abuti). Before the horns

274  Chapter 9 stand out on the head of a calf, when annoyed, he attacks with them and butts aggressively (Cornua nata prius uitulo quam frontibus extent, illis iratus petit atque infestus inurget); and panthers’ kittens and lion cubs already fight with claws and paws and bites when their teeth and claws have scarcely been created (uix… creati). Further, we see all the races of flying creatures trust their wings and seek trembling aid from them. (Lucr. 5.1028–1040 = 19B1–2 L.-S., trans. Campbell) We see here Lucretius resorting to the cradle argument to explain the origin of spoken language. Following Epicurus’ rejection of the θέσις argument (according to which names have been arbitrarily allotted to things and bear no natural relationship with them), Lucretius seeks to show that spoken language is natural, although utility also played a part in its formation. Trying to emphasize as much as possible the precocity of spoken language in the history of mankind (and therefore its naturalness), he then proposes two analogies. The first is with young children not yet able to speak, whose nature drives them to use gestures. The second, of much interest for us, concerns young animals that behave like adults, while lacking, apparently, the corresponding physical apparatus (horns, claws, etc.). It is preceded by the very important statement that ‘each creature feels how far it is able to use its capacities’. This sounds very much like what Hierocles himself tries to establish at the beginning of his treatise (in T9-5), where he explains that ‘animals perceive their own parts’ and that an animal is ‘aware both that it has its own members and for what they are of use’. The parallel between Lucretius and Hierocles is no coincidence. It actually testifies to a long-lasting dispute between two irreconcilable camps: supporters of natural teleology (with or without creation) and anti-teleologists. At the time of Hierocles (probably IInd c. A.D.), but in all likelihood already much earlier, the idea that animals have sense-perception of their own faculties and of their use had become emblematic of natural teleology. We find it asserted in Galen (a contemporary of Hierocles and devoted supporter of natural teleology), who also uses the exact same sort of examples as Lucretius, this time, of course, at the service of the teleological cause: T9-15 Observing new-born animals trying to exercise their parts before (πρίν) they are fully grown, one does clearly (ἐναργῶς) see that the parts of the body do not incite the soul to become vile, brave or sage. I have often seen a young calf butting before its horns were grown, a foal kicking while its hoofs are still soft, and a very little young pig trying to defend itself with its snout stripped of big teeth, and finally new-born puppies trying to bite with still tender teeth. For each animal has an untaught sense-perception (αἴσθησιν… ἀδίδακτον) of the capacities of its own soul and of the powers in its parts (τῶν τε τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ψυχῆς δυνάμεων καὶ τῶν ἐν τοῖς μορίοις ὑπεροχῶν). (Gal. De usu part. 1.3)

Providence and self-preservation  275 We can easily understand why the observation of young animals behaving as if they had already their teeth or horns or hoofs, while these are not yet (or not fully) grown, was of particular significance for supporters of natural teleology. For natural teleology is based on the principle of the primacy of use (or function) over the organ: it is because animals have the capacity to sense-perceive, a proponent of natural teleology shall argue, that they are endowed with sense organs, which are actually only instruments at the service of the faculty. ‘Clearly’, writes Galen, the behaviour of the young unhorned calf is a strong, if not decisive, indication that the use or the function precedes the organ. If the idea that animals have sense-perception of their own capacities was a standard doctrine of natural teleology, then it is likely that what Lucretius is attempting, in T9-14, is to appropriate arguments used by teleologists and recontextualize them.27 But how so? How can he appropriate an idea that is seemingly so essentially linked to teleology? Teleological and anti-teleological accounts strongly disagree on the question whether it is the organ or the use that comes (logically, if not chronologically) first. Galen’s above quotation is actually a development on Aristotle, who famously criticized Anaxagoras for saying that man is the most intelligent creature because he possesses hands: T9-16 It is reasonable (εὔλογον), however, that it is because they are most intelligent (διὰ τὸ φρονιμώτατον) that human beings are given hands. For the hands are instruments (ὄργανόν) and nature, like an intelligent human being, always apportions each instrument to the one able to use it (ἕκαστον τῷ δυναμένῳ χρῆσθαι). Surely it is more fitting to give flutes to the flautist than to provide the ability to play flutes to one who has them. (Ar. PA 4.687a9–14, trans. Lennox) In a teleological view of nature like the one endorsed by Aristotle, faculties and use (or function) come first, organs or parts (here, the hands) second: organs are only instruments, and in that respect, serve a purpose; they cannot exist if there is no purpose or goal already set. So it is because man is an essentially intelligent being that nature has provided him with what is necessary for such a faculty to exercise itself. Lucretius, famously too, criticized this view of the primacy of the use over the organ: T9-17 Every interpretation of this kind is quite perverse, turns reason upside-down, since nothing is born in our body so that we may use it (ut uti), but what is born itself creates the use (sed quod natumst id procreat usum). There was no sight before the eyes were born or speech of words before the tongue was made, but long before speech is the tongue’s origin, long before sounds was heard our ears were made, and all our limbs

276  Chapter 9 existed, as I think, before their use. It cannot therefore be that they could have grown for the sake of being used (utendi causa). (Lucr. 4.832–843, trans. Melville, adapted) For Lucretius, language, as a capacity, does not precede the existence of the organs necessary to it. It is the other way around: it is because human beings are endowed with the physical apparatus that they possess, and which includes a tongue, that the capacity for uttering words has developed, helped with utilitas (T9-14). If this is so, then, how can Lucretius use the example of the young unhorned butting calf in support of his non-teleological account of language, and what does he mean exactly when he says, apparently like Hierocles and Galen, that ‘each creature feels (sentit) how far it is able to use its capacities (uis)’ (T9-14)? Let us start with the first question. If we look carefully at the text, we see that Lucretius has chosen his words.28 Although he is describing animals at a very young age with organs not fully formed, he clearly states that the organs in question are indeed already there. He speaks of panther kittens and lion cubs fighting with teeth and claws that ‘have scarcely been created’ (uix… creati). As to the young calf, its horns, though not yet grown, are already born (cornua nata). In this last case, I suppose that what Lucretius means is that the calf is aware of the existence of its horns, even if no one (including the calf) can yet see them, because they have not yet popped up. Should Lucretius have not made it clear that he is actually speaking of existing organs, his attempt to use these observations as analogies for the precocity of language would simply have been inconsistent. For, in the case of language, it is clear that not only children today, but the first human beings themselves, were already equipped with a tongue at birth (T9-17): ‘long before speech is the tongue’s origin’. Read in this light, the passage does not contradict the fundamental principle that ‘what is born itself creates the use’. The precocity of the behaviour of the young calves, panther kittens and lion cubs is for Lucretius only a sign that they are, very early on, aware that they possess capacities, namely, the capacities of their organs. Now, what sort of awareness is it? Here is Campbell’s explanation29: T9-18 [While] Galen [cf. αἴσθησις in T9-15] refers to an internal feeling of a creature for its abilities, (…) L[ucretius] [cf. sentit in T9-14] refers to an externally gathered sense of its abilities arising from the experience of using them. Thus, ‘sentit enim vis quisque quoad posit abuti’ would explain instinctive behaviour as a process of experiment that involves no real prior innate urge to use an organ for a particular purpose, but the possession of that organ will lead to its use, and this will provide a notion of the utilitas to which that organ may be put. This in turn will encourage the use of that organ and so lead to a further increase in knowledge of its potential, and so to further use. (Campbell 2003: 302)

Providence and self-preservation  277 Campbell’s explanation is one that we might indeed expect from Lucretius, given his stance (in T9-17) regarding the primacy of the organ over the use: first we possess the tongue, and then we discover (and sense-perceive), through external experience, to what sort of use that organ may be put. Similarly, the existence of horns, teeth and claws in young animals, though not yet fully formed, may stimulate their use and therefore also the discovery of their utility. This seems to me a very reasonable reading of the text, although I see no reason to take Lucretius’ sentit as referring to an external sense only. We may remind ourselves that Hierocles speaks of self-perception in regard to the very existence of the parts and in regard to the use of these parts. Even if Lucretius’ view is that animals get to know the use of their parts from an ‘externally gathered sense’, there is no reason why he would not allow self-perception in regard to the existence of the parts themselves. After all, how could Lucretius’ young calf, with his horns still hidden under his skin, have a perception of them, if not internally? There is every reason to believe that Lucretius allowed self-perception in regard to the existence of the parts: as soon as it is born, an animal perceives (internally) what constitution and parts it has, and this self-perception then rapidly triggers, at a very early stage, a behaviour that one would actually expect only from adults. 3.4 Oikeiôsis and the love for the ugly If we grant that Lucretius accepted self-perception, even a limited form of it, then it is enough for interpreting Hierocles’ argument about οἰκείωσις as an anti-Epicurean argument. What Hierocles says, basically, is that the way Epicureans explain the behaviour of babies and young animals, namely, that it is motivated by pleasure, is insufficient for accounting for the conservation of all animal life. In particular, pleasure cannot explain how and why base animals could have self-affection, a necessary condition for the preservation of life. We do not have evidence that Epicureans did ever reply to that attack. But we can try to find out what arguments they had at their disposal to try to counter the Stoic argument. This may help us to better gauge the force of Hierocles’ argument and, by extension, the significance of οἰκείωσις as an argument for providence in the Stoa. Affection or love for the ugly is a topic addressed by Lucretius, and it is interesting to see that he provides not one but two distinct accounts of it, one that has pleasure for its principle, the other not. In his first account, Lucretius illustrates the view that love is a blind and potentially harmful force, by reference to cases of love for ugly women: T9-19 And yet, although entangled and ensnared, you can escape this danger unless you stand in your own way, and overlook the faults in the body and the mind of her you love, for this is what men blinded with desire (cupidine caeci) so often do, attributing to them virtues with which

278  Chapter 9 in truth they are not endowed. So ugly and mis-shapen women (prauas turpisque) are called sweet charmers and are held in highest honour. (Lucr. 4.1149–1156, trans. Melville) On the face of it, Epicureans like Lucretius would seem rather unbothered by arguments according to which pleasure could not explain affection and love for the ugly. Based on this passage, their answer would be that love (cupido) is in itself a blind force, that is, a force so powerful that it makes the lover insensitive to the otherwise obvious ugliness of the beloved. Here, we may remind ourselves that Hierocles himself had stressed (T9-9) how powerful self-affection in base animals is: ‘nature is cunning at instilling even in such creatures a powerful affection for themselves, because their survival would otherwise be impossible’.30 It is well conceivable that Lucretius’ reply would be that there is nothing exceptional in the affection for oneself of base animals, since love is very much a blinding force. Now is this not too easy an escape? That love can be blinding is a thought well established in popular wisdom, but hanging too much weight on it may not prove very wise on the part of an Epicurean. After all, love is driven by pleasure according to Lucretius himself, and pleasure (or rather the prospect of it) is apparently aroused at the sight of the beautiful: T9-20 So therefore when the shafts of Venus strike, whether a boy with girlish limbs has thrown it or a woman from her whole body launches love, he [sc. the lover] leans towards the blow, desires to unite, and cast the fluid from body into body; his speechless yearning tells of bliss to come (namque uoluptatem praesagit muta cupido). (Lucr. 4.1052–1057, trans. Melville) T9-21 Easily the desire for water and bread is met. But from a pretty face or rosy cheeks (ex hominis uero facie pulchroque colore) nothing comes into the body to enjoy but images, thin images, fond hopes, for often they are scattered to the winds. (Lucr. 4.1093–1096, trans. Melville) Once replaced in its context, the case of the love for the ugly (T9-19) appears used by Lucretius only to illustrate how powerful a desire is love. It does not tell us anything about the mechanics of love, namely, that love is essentially of the beautiful (T9-21) and that it is so because the motive power behind love is pleasure (T9-20). If this is so, then, how can an Epicurean explain love for the ugly? Here comes the second account of Lucretius, inserted at the very end of book IV: T9-22 And not from power divine or Venus shafts (nec diuinitus…Uenerisque sagittis) it sometimes (interdum) happens that a wench is loved, no beauty she (deteriore fit ut forma muliercula ametur); for sometimes

Providence and self-preservation  279 she herself by what she does, by person neat and clean, and gentle pleasing ways can easily accustom you to share your life with her (ut facile insuescat secum [te] degere uitam). And for the rest—by custom love is bred (consuetudo concinnat amorem). Something which feels as a blow, however light, but frequently, must in the end give way. Do you not see how even a drop of water by constant dripping wears away a stone? (Lucr. 4.1278–1287, trans. Melville) Lucretius makes it clear that the case at hand (love for the ugly) is not to be explained by Venus’ shafts, that is, by pleasure. It is not possible to account for that specific case of love by resorting to pleasure, and the reason for that, presumably, is the one already given above: pleasure is only possible in relation to the beautiful. If this is so, then Lucretius agrees with Hierocles, and this is a further confirmation that Hierocles’ anti-Epicurean argument is based on Epicurean premises. However, contrary to what one might have expected, the case of love for the ugly is not left unaccounted for by Lucretius: next to pleasure, there is another explanation available for love, namely custom or habit (consuetudo). Regular encounters or continuous intimacy can and indeed do breed closeness and familiarity (consuetudo) and then love, and this helps explain why there is such a thing as love for the ugly. Lucretius’ passage is not the only one where custom is being called upon for accounting for love. Indeed, a similar resort to consuetudo was made by some late Epicureans, probably contemporary of Lucretius, to explain friendship: T9-23 These people hold that the early rounds of meeting and socializing (congressus copulationesque), and the initial inclination to establish some closeness (consuetudinum instituendarum uoluntates), are to be accounted for by reference to our own pleasure ( fieri propter uoluptatem), but that when the frequency of association has led to familiarity ( familiaritatem), and produced a flowering of affection (tum amorem efflorescere tantum), then at this point friends love each other for their own sake, regardless of any utility to be derived from the friendship. After all, closeness (consuetudine) can make us fall in love (adamare) with particular locations, temples and cities; gymnasia and playing-fields; horses and dogs; and displays of fighting and hunting. How much more readily and rightly, then, could closeness (consuetudine) in regard to our fellow human beings have the same effect! (Cic. Fin. 1.69 = 22O4 L.-S., trans. Woolf, adapted) Exactly as in Lucretius, consuetudo is here used as a distinct explanatory principle, distinct, that is, from pleasure (uoluptas).31 This is important for it shows that Epicureans did not rely solely on pleasure for explaining animal behaviour. Given that both passages are from later Epicureans, it is not unreasonable to believe that the resort to consuetudo may have initially been

280  Chapter 9 prompted by the will of Epicureans to shield themselves from criticisms made against pleasure as a behavioural motive. This is clear at least for the Epicureans mentioned in T9-23, since Torquatus reports that they agreed that taking our own pleasure as the only justification for friendship would make friendship ‘look utterly lame’ (cf. claudicare, 1.69). It is therefore to avoid those criticisms that they took the further step to resort to consuetudo.32 There are important differences between uoluptas and consuetudo as explanatory principles for animal behaviour. Pleasure is presented as a sort of final cause (indeed, a telos) and, in that respect, can prompt love rapidly: as soon as the first contact with beauty (a sight of the lovely face) has been made, the prospect of pleasure will drive the lover towards the beloved. Consuetudo, on the other hand, is more like an efficient cause that needs time to reach a certain level of force before it can produce love, friendship or, in general, affection. The image of dripping drops of water wearing out a stone (T9-22) shows clearly that affection produced this way takes a long time to settle in. It would therefore be impossible for Lucretius to rely on consuetudo to explain cases of self-affection of ugly animals at birth, since there is no time then for consuetudo to make its effect. There is, apparently, no Epicurean way to explain the familiarity with themselves that all animals (the ugly ones included) enjoy and which is, according to the Stoics, a necessary condition for their survival.

4 Stoics and Epicureans on the conservation of life It should come as no surprise that Epicureans failed to account for self-affection at birth of animals, since they appear to have never endorsed οἰκείωσις, in any case not the sort of οἰκείωσις that the Stoics deemed necessary for the preservation of life, one where familiarity aims at oneself.33 This, in itself, is significant. It seems that no non-teleological account can ever be able to accommodate the requisites of the οἰκείωσις to oneself. In that sense, we can see how important οἰκείωσις must have been for the Stoics in regard to their doctrine of providence. Even Lucretius, whom we have seen appropriating doctrines traditionally associated with natural teleology, could not do so with οἰκείωσις: significantly, he was only able to appropriate one section of the Stoic οἰκείωσις, namely self-perception, with the further limitation that the object of self-perception is the existence of one’s parts, not for what use these parts are. Why familiarity to oneself was an impossible concept for the Epicureans can be better appreciated if we look at how Epicureanism, in general, tried to account for life and its preservation. Whereas Epicureans looked at life and its survival as a matter of adaptation to other external things, the Stoics looked at it as a matter of being adapted to oneself. 4.1 Lucretius and adaptation One basic explanatory principle required by life, according to Lucretius, is the ‘elective affinity’ principle. It is introduced in On the Nature of Things

Providence and self-preservation  281 (Book Five), where Lucretius explains how the initial discrimination of atoms began and then started to form the world: T9-24 [Before the sun, the heaven, the sea and the earth existed, there were] only a strange kind of tempestuous mass formed of primary particles of every kind; the conflict of these particles as they clashed in battle threw into confusion the gaps between them, their courses, connexions, weights, impacts, collisions and movements, because, on account of their dissimilar shapes and varying forms ( propter dissimilis formas uariasque figuras), they could not all stay joined together (coniuncta) as they were nor make movements that would harmonize with each other. From there, the parts began to detach themselves and like matter join with like ( paresque cum paribus iungi res) and to divide up the world, differentiate its limbs and dispose its great parts. (Lucr. 5.436–445, trans. Gale) Only ‘like joins with like’: for atoms to be joined and remain so, atoms need to be similar in shapes and patterns.34 In other words, only like atoms, that is, atoms that are adapted to one another, can join and produce a lasting product like the world. What is here true at the atomic (microscopic) level is also true at the (macroscopic) level of the parts of animals: only limbs that are adapted to one another can join and provide life. This can be seen, negatively, through Lucretius’ rejection of legendary animals like centaurs and the chimaera: T9-25 But neither have there ever been Centaurs, nor at any time are creatures able to exist with a double nature and twofold body, their power put together from alien-born limbs (ex alienigenis membra), their strength equal on both sides, so that it can be equal enough. (Lucr. 5.878–881, trans. Campbell) Contrary to monsters (portenta, cf. 5.837) who were initially produced by the earth, though with no chance of survival, centaurs and other creatures of the kind are simply impossible living animals, and the reason is that they would have to be composed of ‘alien-born’ (alienigenis) or ‘incompatible’ (discordia, cf. 5.894) limbs. Members must be homogeneous, that is, belong to one and the same nature, if they are to compose a living being. The case of monsters introduces us to what the conditions for the maintenance of life are. Monsters were once produced by earth but were incapable to produce a species. Monsters live but cannot survive. Survival too, as is life, is a matter of adaptation and compatibility between distinct entities. Central, in that respect, is reproductive compatibility, and it is no surprise

282  Chapter 9 that the first kind of monsters mentioned by Lucretius (the androgyne) is the one that suffers from reproductive impairment: T9-26 The earth tried also to create many monsters (portenta) at the time which arose with amazing appearance and limbs: the man-woman (androgynum), between both yet neither (interutrasque nec utrum), and different from both (utrimque remotum). (Lucr. 5.837–839 = 13I1 L.-S., trans. Campbell) Lucretius believed in the fixity of the species and looked at reproduction as a means to perpetuate species.35 Reproduction requires mutually sexually adapted partners. Androgynes cannot survive because they are not sexually adapted either to male or to female: they are between both and yet neither. As a consequence, they are utrim remotum, which could mean, not simply ‘different’ from both, but actually ‘alienated’ from both.36 Survival is a matter of adaptation, be it to food, to other animals or in general to the environment. Adaptation is the key element that decides whether a species will be nipped in the bud or survive: T9-27 And it is inevitable that many species of living creatures became extinct at that time and that they were not able to found a race by breeding. For whatever you see grazing on the life-giving breezes, either cunning (dolus) or strength (uirtus) or finally speed (mobilitas) has kept that species safe since the origins of its birth: and there are many which remain, entrusted to our protection, entrusted to us by their usefulness (nobis ex utilitate sua quae commendata manent, tutelae tradita nostrae). Firstly, the fierce race of lions, the savage species, has been kept safe by strength, the fox by cunning, and the deer by speed in flight. But the light-sleeping minds of dogs with their faithful hearts, and the whole race born of the load-bearing seed horses, and at the same time the wool-bearing flocks and the horned races of cattle, all were entrusted to our tutelage. (Lucr. 5.855–867 = 13I1–2 L.-S., trans. Campbell, adapted) Adaptation to external conditions is the key for the survival of the species: cunning, strength or speed will be often decisive capacities for getting food or avoiding being targeted and eaten by predators. In cases where animals find themselves helpless, it is their capacities to be useful (hence adapted) to the needs of human beings that will ensure their survival. Through and through, Lucretius has been using the same type of explanatory principle in his account of the creation of the world, of life and of the preservation of life: only like things, that is, things that are mutually adapted, can join and remain so. Of course, he is certainly not the only ancient philosopher that has used the elective affinity principle. Most, if not all

Providence and self-preservation  283 of them, did. But we can appreciate, I think, that this principle was particularly appropriate for a mechanistic and materialistic account of life as the one endorsed by the Epicureans, and this explains why its initial introduction is found in Lucretius’ account of the most basic level of reality, namely, between atoms (see T9-24). Lucretius, as we have seen, was keen to appropriate material usually used in teleological or providential accounts of life. He obviously did it in the case of self-perception of one’s own capacities (T9-14). He did it too in regard to the capacities that explain the survival of animal species. Indeed, the natural capacities he lists in T9-27 are all reminiscent of Greek teleological and providential accounts.37 But nowhere in Lucretius do we find references to some form of self-adaptation as a condition for survival. This, again, was only to be expected since the unique form of adaptation Epicureanism seems ready to endorse, given its materialistic account of the world and life, is external adaptation. If this is so, then we have grounds for interpreting Seneca’s insistence (in T9-11) that natural capacities for survival would be useless without adaptation to oneself (i.e. οἰκείωσις) as a way to dismiss materialistic and chance-based views of life such as those endorsed by the Epicureans. Here again, it seems to me, the case for οἰκείωσις (as a sine qua non condition) is at the same time a case for providence, for selfadaptation appears to be a concept that only natural teleology can start to conceive. This is a point I would like now to develop by showing that although οἰκείωσις to oneself was apparently original to the Stoics, the way they sometimes presented it seems to show that it has links with former accounts of providence found in Plato. 4.2 The Stoics and adaptation to oneself The Stoics amply made use of the idea of mutual adaptation in their account of life and its conservation. In fact, their theory of οἰκείωσις had two main aspects: familiarization to oneself and familiarization to others. Even if familiarization to others (commonly referred to as social οἰκείωσις in the literature) can play an important role in the chance for survival of animals,38 it is not as fundamental as familiarization to oneself. For the point the Stoics make is that there is no chance an animal can survive if it has no self-affection (T9-11). It is the reflexive dimension of οἰκείωσις that made it a genuinely new idea in the history of thought.39 Social οἰκείωσις was already known and discussed before the Stoics. We find evidence of it in Theophrastus40 and Aristotle.41 It has been argued that the idea goes back even farther, to Plato.42 But that familiarity could be directed to oneself seems to be an absolutely original idea from the Stoics. This being said, the way Stoics sometimes phrase the idea of familiarization to oneself, namely that one has been ‘entrusted’ or ‘recommended’ to oneself, which we find in Seneca, seems to take its cues

284  Chapter 9 from a providential line of thought that has roots beyond Stoicism. Let us first consider Seneca’s passage: T9-28 Nature produces her fruits, and does not reject them (producit fetus suos natura, non abicit): and because the most reliable protection is from the nearest (et quia tutela certissima ex proximo est), each thing is entrusted to itself (sibi quisque commissus est). (Sen. Ep. 121.18, trans. Fantham, adapted) We are told that nature, that is, god or divine providence, is taking care of animals and human beings in a special way: by delegation of authority. Rather than taking care directly of each and every animal, nature has found that a better protection (tutela) could be afforded if each animal was entrusted to itself. Now this may seem odd since what makes a protection worthwhile is more the competence of the protector than its vicinity.43 On the other hand, if we had a reliable protector at hand, then that protector would indeed afford the best possible protection. Therefore, the argument seems to assume that our guardian is itself of a superior, divine nature (which makes him reliable), though somewhat distinct from universal nature or god in that it is ‘the nearest’ to us. Another passage, from Cicero’s On Ends, confirms the idea that the protection the animals are benefitting from is itself divine: T9-29 Nature has given bulls the instinct to defend their calves against lions with immense passion and force. In the same way, those with great talent and the capacity for achievement, as is said of Hercules and Liber, have a natural inclination to help the human race. Now we also give Jupiter the names of ‘Greatest’ and ‘Highest’; we call him our Saviour, our Shelter, our Defender. By this we mean that our safety as humans rests on his protection (tutela). But it is hardly consistent to ask for the care and love of the immortal gods (ut diis inmortalibus cari simus et ab iis diligamur) while despising and neglecting each other. (Cic. Fin. 3.66 = SVF 3.342, trans. Woolf, adapted) The passage is from Cato’s account of social οἰκείωσις. Interestingly enough, we see that the protection that parents (here bulls) provide their offspring with is compared to the tutela humankind receives from the highest of gods: Jupiter. Furthermore, the vocabulary used by Cato to express god’s care for humans is precisely the one used by Cicero and Seneca to express the affective side of οἰκείωσις to oneself: caritas sui 44 and se diligere.45 The idea that divine providence could act by delegation of authority is very often associated, in ancient texts, with the notion of the δαίμων, a sort of divine spirit that is playing the role of a guardian or trustee in relation to humans. We know the Stoics consider the human soul, or rather its ruling part, as an ἀπόσπασμα or detached fragment of god46 and call it a δαίμων.

Providence and self-preservation  285 We have evidence of the latter in Chrysippus, Posidonius, Seneca, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius.47 The Stoic interpretation of the human soul (or its ruling part) as a δαίμων given to human beings by god as a guardian spirit is probably reminiscent of Plato’s Timaeus: Τ9-30 God gave the sovereign part of the human soul [i.e. the immoral part fashioned by the demiurge himself] to be the δαίμων of each. (Pl. Tim. 90a) By internalizing the divine into man, Plato made happiness or εὐδαιμονία an essentially reflexive matter: it is by taking care of ourselves, that is, of our soul, that we can achieve our true telos, namely, assimilation to god. Now reflexivity, as we have seen, is essential to οἰκείωσις to oneself, and we have texts suggesting that the Stoics looked at οἰκείωσις to oneself as an expression of the relationship between a human being and his personal δαίμων. Let us first consider the following text, from Epictetus: T9-31 [Zeus] has assigned to each of us, as a tutor (ἐπίτροπον), his δαίμων, and has entrusted each of us to its guardianship (παρέδωκεν φυλάσσειν αὐτὸν αὐτῷ), a tutor that never sleeps and is never open to deception. To what other guardian (φύλακι) could he have entrusted us that would have been better and more vigilant than this? And so, when you close your doors and create darkness within, remember never to say that you’re on your own, for in fact, you’re not alone, because god is within you (ὁ θεὸς ἔνδον), your own δαίμων is within. (Epict. D. 1.14.12–14, trans. Hard, adapted) The role of Epictetus’ δαίμων is that of a tutor (ἐπίτροπος) or guardian (φύλαξ). Ἐπίτροπος is the Greek for tutor, and we have seen that both Seneca (T9-28) and Cicero (T9-29) use the notion of tutela in their arguments about οἰκείωσις. There is, however, an obvious difference between Seneca’s and Epictetus’ passages: while Seneca says that god or nature has entrusted each animal to itself, Epictetus explains that god has committed each of us to a δαίμων that is presented as a distinct (though inner dwelling) spirit. In other words, we do not find in this text of Epictetus any mention of some reflexive form of care,48 where the tutor and the tutee are one and the same. However, another passage in Epictetus, very similar to the one we have just seen, presents us with just that sort of care: T9-32 But you are a detached fragment of god (σὺ ἀπόσπασμα εἶ τοῦ θεοῦ); you have in you a part of him. Why are you ignorant, then, of your kinship? (…) You carry god around with you, poor wretch, and yet have no knowledge of it. Do you suppose that I mean some external god of gold or silver? It is within yourself (ἐν σαυτῷ) that you carry

286 Chapter 9 him. (…) Not only has he created you, but he has also entrusted you to your own sole charge (σοὶ μόνῳ ἐπίστευσεν καὶ παρακατέθετο). (…) If god had entrusted an orphan to your care, would you have neglected him in such a fashion? Yet he has delivered you yourself into your own keeping (παραδέδωκέ σοι σεαυτόν), and says, ‘I had no one in whom I could put more confidence than you. Keep (φύλασσε) this person as he was born by nature to be; keep him modest, trustworthy, high-minded, unshakeable, free from passion, imperturbable.’ (Epict. D. 2.8.11–23, trans. Hard, modified) From this passage, we can see that when Epictetus speaks of god as having entrusted each of us to our own δαίμων, he does not mean anything else than that god has entrusted us to ourselves.49 Furthermore, the reference to an orphan being entrusted to the care of a guardian clearly recalls the idea of tutelage that was put forward by Epictetus in the previous text (T9-31). Now, the similarity between this last passage and Seneca’s argument for οἰκείωσις (in T9-28) is striking. Both texts present us with a strict form of reflexive care where one and the same being is both the protector and the protected, the tutor and the tutee. Given that, in Epictetus, the reflexivity is based on the identification of the human soul with one’s own δαίμων, we have here a further confirmation that in the case of Seneca’s argument, the god-chosen protector (based on its vicinity) must actually possess a divine nature.50 By choosing to present familiarization to oneself as he does, Seneca is clearly resorting to a line of thought that is deeply entrenched in ancient providential accounts. This is a sign that adaptation to oneself, a concept that is central to οἰκείωσις, was itself seen as a form of adaptation that only teleology could account for. This is coherent with what we have seen in regard to external adaptation, which appeared to be, in turn, a central concept of the anti-teleological account of nature of Lucretius. It seems therefore the case that the distinction between the two forms of adaptation (to oneself and to other distinct things) somewhat expresses the deep divide existing between natural teleology and a chance-based account of nature.

Notes 1 On Stoic oikeiôsis, see Long 1996b, Radice 2000, Murgier 2013 and Alesse 2016. 2 The standard English translation of οἰκείωσις by ‘appropriation’, defended by A.A. Long and D. Sedley, reflects the conviction that the ‘main force of the Stoic concept [of οἰκείωσις]’ is connected with the idea of ‘property ownership’. The authors, however, insist that ‘the English associations of “appropriation” with forcible possession are to be discounted’, because Stoic οἰκείωσις is ‘an affective disposition relative to the thing which is owned or belongs’ (Long and Sedley 1987 (vol. 1): 351). Although property ownership is indeed sometimes emphasized in relation to οἰκείωσις (see T10-10: τὸ ‘ἐγὼ’ καὶ τὸ ‘ἐμόν’), it does not seem to me as central an idea as that of kinship and belonging (see Kerferd 1972). Οἰκείωσις is linked to the adjective οἰκεῖος, a word that has a strong connection

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3

4 5 6

7

8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15 16

with the idea of household and family (οἰκία). Although, when used in relation to things, it can mean ‘belonging to one’s house or family, one’s own’, and can thus convey the sense of property ownership, in relation to people it means ‘of the same household, family, or kin’. In Stoicism, even when οἰκείωσις is used in relation to things, such as one’s parts (faculties, limbs), its sense is first of all that of kinship and affinity: what matters is not so much that I own these parts, but rather that I immediately recognize an affinity with them, that I sense they are not alien to me. The same is of course also true in relation to people, be it of me in relation to myself or in relation to others. As we are going to see, the Stoic concept of οἰκείωσις has two distinctive, although strongly intertwined, dimensions: it implies a powerful affection and liking and also some form of knowledge. This twofold dimension of οἰκείωσις is best captured, I think, by the words ‘familiarity’ and ‘familiarization’: a familiar is a person who either lives or comes regularly at one’s place (οἰκία); he or she is both well known and loved; by extension, familiar things are things that are known to us and held dear. Those words, I think, better render the core idea at work in the Stoic notion of οἰκείωσις and should be preferred not only to ‘appropriation’ (which captures neither of the two dimensions stated above) but also, for instance, to ‘attachment’, a word that covers only the affective dimension of οἰκείωσις, and is therefore incomplete as a translation (for a defence of attachment as a translation of οἰκείωσις, see Kühn 2011: 238–239). See Inwood 2007: 332, who refers to Cic. ND 2.33–36 and 2.121–130 as relevant texts for οἰκείωσις. We may note that a similar section on animals’ inner sense of self-preservation is also to be found in Philo of Alexandria’s De providentia (2.106–108), a work partly influenced by Stoic philosophy. The word ‘goods’ is here used in a non-technical manner. On that important Stoic text, see especially Bastianini and Long 1992, Ramelli 2009 and Gourinat 2016a. Ramelli 2009: xix, as well as the early German commentators and editors of Hierocles (Praechter and von Arnim), place him in the first half of the second century A.D. But see Bénatouïl 2016b: 6, n. 2, who argues that our evidence remain incomplete and that Hierocles may have lived earlier. The two parts of οἰκείωσις are rooted in what the Stoics hold to be distinctive of animals: contrary to plants, animals possess sense-perception (αἴσθησις) and impulse (ὁρμή). See Hier. El. Eth. 1.31–34. For Hierocles’ distinct approach to οἰκείωσις, which will not be discussed in this book, see Alesse 2016. See Sen. Ep. 121.6: scientia. For self-perception in Hierocles and the Stoics, see Inwood 1984, Long 1996b and Gourinat 2016b. For the former, see e.g. Pl. Prot. 320e: ‘He [sc. Epimetheus] attached strength without speed to some, while the weaker he equipped with speed; and some he armed, while devising for others, along with an unarmed condition, some different faculty for preservation (δύναμιν εἰς σωτηρίαν)’, trans. Lamb; Cic. ND 2.127. For the latter, see Lucr. 5.1033–1040 (although the context is not specifically about life preservation). Cic. Fin. 3.66 = SVF 3.342 (quoted in T9-29). See also ingenuit in Cic. ND 2.124 (quoted above in T9-3). Long 1996b: 254–255. See Brunschwig 1986: 139, Bastianini and Long 1992: 436–437, and Ramelli 2009: 54–55, n. 44. Ἡ φύσις οὐδὲν μάτην ποιεῖ. The expression is Aristotle’s: see De an. 3.12.432b, 3.12.434a, Cael. 1.4.271a, 2.11.291b, GA 2.5.741b, 2.6.744a. This new argument follows immediately the previous one and should not be treated separately.

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17 Although the argument is found in its complete form in Hierocles only, we have evidence from Seneca that the Stoics insisted that every animal, beautiful or ugly, great or insignificant, possesses affection for itself: But you will not find a low valuation of itself in any creature, nor even indifference. Even silent and stupid creatures, sluggish for all other activities (tacitisquoque et brutis, quamquam in cetera torpeant), have shrewdness in staying alive (ad uiuendum sollertia est). You will see that creatures useless to others do not fail themselves (Uidebis quae aliis inutilia sunt sibi ipsa non deesse). (Sen. Ep. 121.24, trans. Fantham, adapted) 18 Conciliatio is, with commendatio, Cicero’s favourite word for rendering οἰκείωσις (see T4-13c, T7-29 and Cic. Fin. 3.16 = SVF 3.182). The topic of animals (including human beings) being recommended (to themselves) by nature (god) is explicitly developed by Balbus in Cic. Fin. 3.23 = SVF 3.186. 19 Cic. Fin. 5.55. 20 See S.E. PH 3.194: It is also from there that Epicureans think having proved that pleasure is naturally to be sought (φύσει αἱρετήν); for animals, they say, as soon as they are born (ἅμα τῷ γενέσθαι), when they are not yet corrupted, have an impulsion (ὁρμᾶν) towards pleasure and avoid (ἐκκλίνειν) pain. (See also D.L. 10.137, discussed below, in T9-13)

21

22 23

24

25 26 27 28 29 30 31

According to Brunschwig 1986: 120, the initial formulation of the cradle argument by the Epicureans (reported in Cic. Fin. 1.30 = 21A2-3 L.-S.) did not claim to use the argument as a proof that one should seek pleasure (uoluptas expetenda), only to show that there is no need for demonstration that one should seek pleasure. See Brunschwig 1986: 91, who, commenting on Cic. Fin. 3.16 = SVF 3.182, where Cato begins his account, notes that the first striking thing about it is that its conclusions have nothing to do with the question of the supreme good (which is not even mentioned). See also Sen. Ep. 121.5 who recognizes that the relation between the natural behaviour of young animals or children and the question of the telos is ‘quite remote’ (paulo remotiora). Ar. Pol. 1252b32-33. See D.L. 7.86 = SVF 3.178 and 57A5 L.-S.: ‘Since reason, by way of a more perfect management, has been bestowed on rational beings, to live correctly in accordance with reason comes to be natural for them. For reason supervenes as the craftsman of impulse’, trans. Long and Sedley. The criticism against the Epicurean account of the telos is quasi-systematically alluded to in the Stoic account of οἰκείωσις. See D.L. 7.85 = SVF 3.178 and 57A3 L.-S.: ‘They hold it false to say, as some people do, that pleasure is the object of animal’s first impulse’ (trans. Long and Sedley); Cic. Fin. 3.16 = SVF 3.182: ‘The Stoics point out that babies seek what is good for them and avoid the opposite before they ever feel pleasure or pain’ (trans. Woolf); Sen. Ep. 121.7: ‘Far from the fear of pain driving them to this, they actually strive to achieve their natural movement even when pain prevents them’ (trans. Fantham). Brunschwig 1986: 117 and 125. Cic. Fin. 1.31 = 21A4 L.-S. Campbell 2003: 302. The point is made by Schrijvers 1999: 76. Campbell is following remarks made by Schrijvers 1999: 76. Hier. El. Eth. 7.3-4. The point is made by Algra 1997: 144.

Providence and self-preservation 289 32 The resort to consuetudo by Epicureans is coherent with their rejection of teleology: custom is presented as a materialistic type of explanation by Lucretius (T922), like drops of water wearing out little by little some piece of stone. But is it coherent with their hedonism? Was consuetudo used by Epicurieans as a more or less independent explanatory principle, next to pleasure? Not necessarily. They may have argued, for instance, that consuetudo helps determine the sources of our pleasure, rather than supplants it. I thank David Sedley for this suggestion. On this question, see Algra 1997: 148, n. 26. 33 That Epicureans accepted social οἰκείωσις is argued by Algra 1997, on the basis of texts that include T9-23. On social οἰκείωσις in Epicureanism, see in particular Porph. De abst. 1.7.1 = 22M1 L.-S. (reporting Hermarch’s views), quoted below. 34 The same analysis is proposed by Hermarch, according to Porphyry, to account for the formation of the first human societies: Perhaps, indeed, a certain natural familiarization (φυσικῆς τινὸς οἰκειώσεως) which exists in human beings towards each other (διὰ τὴν ὁμοιότητα τῆς μορφῆς καὶ τῆς ψυχῆς), through the similitude of form and soul, is the reason why they do not so readily destroy an animal of this kind, as some of the other animals which are conceded to our use. (Porph. De abst. 1.7.1 = 22M1 L.-S.) 35 For both claims, see Campbell 2003: 8 (with reference to Lucr. 5.1011–1027) and p. 178 (with reference to Lucr. 5.923–924). See also Blundell 1986: 92–93 (quoted by Campbell). 36 See the translation by Kany-Turpin 1998: ‘à l’un et l’autre aliéné’. 37 The three first (cunning, strength and speed) nearly match the capacities that Epimetheus, in Plato’s Protagoras’ myth (320e-321a), equips animal species with and that are deemed necessary for their survival. As to the fourth (how some animal species were entrusted to humans), one finds it mentioned by the Stoic Balbus in Cic. ND 2.130, in a section of his account dedicated to divine providence. I am not suggesting here that Lucretius is actually responding to the Stoics, only pointing out that the capacities he put forward in T9-27 formed a common stock of examples from which natural teleologists usually drew. 38 The origin of what is sometimes called ‘social οἰκείωσις’ lies in the affection of parents for their offspring or φιλοστοργία, affection that leads parents to protect their offspring from dangers. On this, see especially Chapter 7, section 2. See also infra T9-29. 39 See Kerferd 1972. 40 See Porph. De abst. 2.22.1–3. For discussion regarding Theophrastus’ οἰκειότης, see Brink 1956. 41 See Ar. GA 3.2.753a, with discussion in Brink 1956: 131 and 141. 42 See Penner and Rowe 2005: 323, n. 58, for the suggestion that Stoic social οἰκείωσις may have originated in Plato’s Lysis, and Brennan 2005: 159, for the idea that it originated in Plato’s Republic. For a good recent discussion, see Murgier 2013. 43 The point is made by Kühn 2011: 250. 44 Sen. Ep. 121.24 (quoted in T9-11). 45 Cic. Fin. 3.16 = SVF 3.182. 46 See D.L. 7.143 (quoted in T3-3 [b]) and Epict. D. 1.14.6 (quoted in T10-23 [b]). 47 See D.L. 7.88 = SVF 3.4 and 63C4 L.-S. (Chrysippus); Posidonius F187 E.-K. (quoted in T5-1b) and F24 E.-K. (quoted in T5-5); Sen. Ep. 41.1 and 110.1; Epict. D. 1.14.11–14 (quoted in T9-31) and 2.8.22; M.A. Med. 5.27. These references are discussed by Dyson 2009: 235–253. 48 However, the final sentence of D. 1.14 makes it clear that it is how the text should be understood: while soldiers swear never to prefer another before Caesar, we, humans ‘swear to prefer ourselves above all else’ (italics are mine).

290 Chapter 9 49 In Marcus Aurelius, one finds also a depiction of the inner dwelling δαίμων either as a distinct being having established itself within ourselves (M.A. Med. 3.6.2) or as the very ἡγεμονικόν of a human being, i.e. his reason and intelligence (M.A. Med. 5.27). The key to the understanding of those apparently contradicting views is given in Med. 4.16, where Marcus explains that, in order to become what we really (by nature) are – divine beings, detached fragments of god – we must ‘return to [our] principles and [our] reverence for reason (τὸν σεβασμὸν τοῦ λόγου)’. In other words, it is only when one identifies with what is one’s true self (the ἡγεμονικόν) and values it above everything else, that the god within us stops being a distinct, somewhat alien, being. For the idea of revering reason, see also supra T8-20, with commentary. 50 There is, apparently, a difficulty here. Only humans possess a δαίμων, that is, a rational soul, and, according to Epictetus (D. 2.8.10), only human souls are ἀποσπάσματα of god. Οἰκείωσις, on the other hand, concerns all animals, not just humans. However, strictly speaking, it would not be true to say that souls are not portions of god: for the Stoics, god is a pneumatic power that takes various forms; it is ἕξις in inorganic beings, φύσις in plants and ψυχή in animals (see D.L. 7.138–139 = SVF 2.634 and 47O1-2 L.-S.). God is fully blended with matter, and there is no reason why animal souls, whether rational or not, could not be recognized as portions of god too.

10 From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence

In the previous chapter, we have seen how and why the notion of οἰκείωσις needed to be taken into account for a reconstruction of the Stoic doctrine of providence. While we have analysed texts showing the importance of οἰκείωσις in regard to the preservation of animals, we are now going to explore the case of cosmic οἰκείωσις and its importance in regard to p ersonal divine providence, that is, the idea that, according to the Stoics, god’s providence extends down to individual human beings and their lives. But before we come to this, we must first address a more pressing matter: the exact object of divine providence.

1 The object(s) of divine providence 1.1 The world Defining what the exact object of divine providence is according to the Stoa is not as straightforward as one would expect. From one important passage, already partially examined in Chapter 1, we learn that the good that providence seeks to foster is the good of the world itself: T10-1 (included in T1-5) Such being the nature of the world-mind, it can therefore correctly be designated as prudence or providence (uel prudentia uel prouidentia) (for in Greek it is termed ‘πρόνοια’): what it chiefly (potissimum) cares for and is especially engaged in (haec potissimum prouidet et in is maxime est occupata) is, first, that the world be best fitted for permanence (primum ut mundus quam aptissimus sit ad permanendum); next, that it lacks nothing (deinde ut nulla re egeat); and chiefly, that it contains in itself consummate beauty and embellishment of every kind (maxume autem ut in eo eximia pulchritudo sit atque omnis ornatus). (Cic. ND 2.58 = SVF 1.172, trans. Rackham, adapted) What god, that is, the world-mind, chiefly (potissimum) cares and provides for (prouidet) is that the world be best fit for permanence and complete, and contain beauty. This is very much in line with Plato’s Timaeus where we DOI: 10.4324/9781315647678-10

292  Chapter 10 apparently find the same particular goals. Because of his essential goodness, which implies lack of jealousy (Pl. Tim. 29e-30a), Plato’s demiurge’s first move is to create the most beautiful world possible, one that possesses soul and intelligence (30a-b). Plato’s world is complete too, lacking none of the existing visible animals, because its creator chose to base his work on the most beautiful of paradigms, one that is both perfect and complete (it encompasses all intelligible animals) (30c-d). Finally, by making the world truly universal (unique and thus leaving nothing outside itself), the demiurge also made sure that his creation would always avoid diseases (due to outside forces) and that it remains unageing (33a). We should not, however, push the comparison with Plato’s Timeaus too far. First of all, we should be cautious not to attribute to the Stoic demiurge the same kind of motivation for creating the world as the one defended by Plato. Sure, the Stoic demiurge is good and, as such, must also be thought of as devoid of jealousy (φθόνος), but, to my knowledge, the Stoics never singled out god’s absence of envy as a motive for creating the world.1 In fact, for reasons that will be given later (see T10-5 and T10-10, with commentary), their own account seems rather incompatible with the idea of a selfless will to share one’s own goodness with others, which ‘absence of jealousy’ naturally conveys. Also, even if the beauty of the world is stressed in both accounts, it is important to understand that the ‘consummate beauty’ (eximia pulchritudo) and ‘embellishment of every kind’ (omnis ornatus) that are found within the world, according to the Stoics, do not actually refer to the possession of soul and intelligence, but rather to the beauty of the stars and the illumination provided by them. This is made clear from the reading of an earlier passage in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, in which we find the Epicurean Torquatus attacking the Stoics in those terms: T10-2 Also, why should god take a fancy (concupisceret) to decorate the world with figures and illuminations, like an aedile (mundum signis et luminibus tamquam aedilis ornare)? If it was to embellish his own abode, then it seems that he had previously been dwelling for an infinite time in a dark and gloomy hovel! And are we to suppose therefore that the varied beauties which we see adorning earth and sky (qua caelum et terras exornatas) have afforded him pleasure? How can a god take pleasure in things of this sort? And if he did, he could not have dispensed with it so long. Or were these beauties designed by god for the sake of human beings (hominum causa), as your school usually maintains (ut fere dicitis)? (Cic. ND 1.22 = 13G5 L.-S., trans. Rackham, adapted) As the last line makes it clear, the ornament of the world, in particular the beauty of the firmament, has a peculiar purpose and is aimed specifically at human beings. Therefore, although, in T10-1, beauty is introduced as part of a description of the good of the world, we understand here that it serves

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  293 also a secondary aim, that of providing human beings with a beautiful and uplifting spectacle.2 1.2 Human beings With this last passage, we understand that the Stoics also include human beings as beneficiaries of divine providence. The reason they give for that particular care suggests that they looked at it as a natural consequence of god’s care for the world. Here is Balbus’ explanation3: T10-3 It remains for me to show, in coming finally to a conclusion, that all the things in this world (omnia quae sint in hoc mundo), which humans use (quibus utantur homines), have been created and provided for the sake of human beings (hominum causa facta esse et parata). In the first place (Principio), the world itself was created for the sake of gods and human beings (ipse mundus deorum hominumque causa factus est), and the things that it contains were provided and contrived for the enjoyment of humans (parata ad fructum hominum et inuenta sunt). For the world is as it were the common dwelling-place of gods and human beings, or the city that belongs to both (quasi communis deorum atque hominum domus aut urbs utrorumque); for they alone have the use of reason (soli enim ratione utentes) and live by justice and by law (iure ac lege uiuunt). As therefore Athens and Sparta must be deemed to have been founded for the sake of the Athenians and the Spartans, and all the things contained in those cities are rightly said to belong to those peoples, so whatever things are contained in all the world must be deemed to belong to the gods and to human beings. (Cic. ND 2.154 = SVF 2.1131, trans. Rackham, adapted) This is not the sole argument4 for the thesis that the world, or rather the things in it, is made for the sake of humans, but it is clearly the most fundamental one, because it is based on a distinctively Stoic account of the world as ‘a city of gods and human beings’. We know how important such a theory is for the Stoics: it serves as a model for both their peculiar account of wisdom (T4-13b and T5-17c) and their political views (T6-22). Here, they try to show that the very definition of the world not only indicates that it is made for the sake of both gods and humans (deorum hominumque causa), but also implies that ‘all the things in this world, which humans use, have been created and provided for the sake of human beings (hominum causa facta esse et parata)’. The implication, however, is not really spelled out: how is it the case that from the world itself being created for the sake of two groups of beings (gods and humans), on account of the fact that they both share in reason, one must conclude that everything in the world has been created for humans? Why single out human beings in particular? I believe the explanation lies in

294  Chapter 10 the particular political relationship that exists between gods and humans. We have seen in previous chapters that the Stoics conceive ruling as a duty (T5-23 [g]) and that it must be done with a view to improving the condition of the governed people (T5-21 [d], T6-26 and T6-27, and T8-39 and T8-40). Typically, they would accept to grant power only to gods or sages (T5-19b), that is, to beings that live according to right reason and therefore possess self-sufficiency. Those who are being ruled, on the other hand, are precisely those that are in need of being ruled, because of their lack of wisdom and virtue. Therefore, it makes sense to say that since the world is a city of gods and humans where the gods are rulers (T6-22), everything in the world has been created for humans in particular, because, of the two groups of beings sharing in reason, they are the ones that need help and support.

2 Alexander’s objection and the Stoic reply All in all, there does not seem to be any real tension between the two objects of divine providence that are the world and the human beings. It is not contradictory to state, on the one hand, that what god or the world-mind ‘chiefly’ cares for is the good of the world itself (T10-1), and, on the other, that god also has special concern for one particular type of living beings, namely humans (T10-3), because the very definition of the world as a city of gods and humans implies that human beings are meant to receive special attention and care on the part of their rulers (the gods). Not everybody is happy with that kind of reasoning, though. The Peripatetic Alexander of Aphrodisias, in particular, thinks that the Stoics have been carried away too far by their doctrine of providence and that it has led them to turn upside down the natural relationship between gods and humans: T10-4 If the divine is going to perform its own proper activities (εἰ τὰς οἰκείας τὸ θεῖον ἐνεργήσει ἐνεργείας) for the sake of the preservation of mortals, and not for its own sake (τῆς τῶν θνητῶν σωτηρίας, οὐχ αὑτοῦ χάριν), then it will seem to exist only for the sake of mortals (παντάπασιν ἂν δόξειε τῶν θνητῶν εἶναι χάριν). But it will do this according to those who locate its essence in the exercising of providence (κατὰ τοὺς ἐν τῷ προνοεῖν τὴν οὐσίαν αὐτοῦ τιθεμένους). For what else will the divine be according to the person who writes, ‘for what is left of snow, for example, if someone takes away the white and the cold? What of fire, if you quench its heat, or of honey [if you remove] its sweetness, the soul [if you remove] movement, of god [if you remove] the exercise of providence?’ (Alex. Quaest. 2.21, p. 69, 3–10 Bruns = SVF 2.1118, trans. Sharples, slightly adapted) Alexander is well known for his hostility towards Stoicism, even if, as already recalled in Chapter 1, many of his criticisms against it do not mention Stoics by name. Even if we take the argument here as not precisely aimed at the Stoics,5 there is no doubt that Alexander would have been ready to use

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  295 it unchanged against them, since the Stoics held that god (or the world, or nature) is providence (T1-1 and T6-1). Alexander claims that making providence an essential attribute of god leads to a complete reversal of the natural relationship between gods and humans, where the latter become masters and the former their slaves. Indeed, doing everything that one does for the sake of the good of someone else is typically how one would describe the activity of a slave. The Stoics would probably not object to the master-slave model since they sometimes use it (T5-21 and T5-22) to describe the relationship between the ruler and the ruled. As we are going to see, they would not even disagree with the idea that one should think of god as doing everything he does mainly for himself. Still, they would maintain that their conception of providence does not lead to the reversing of roles that Alexander assumes it does. Thanks to Damascius, we have kept the rather straightforward answer they would be ready to give to a challenge like that of Alexander’s: T10-5 — How can gods be our masters, if what a master considers is not the good of the slave (εἴπερ ὁ δεσπότης οὐ τὸ τοῦ δούλου σκοπεῖ ἀγαθόν), but his own good (ἀλλὰ τὸ ἑαυτοῦ)? For it is in this respect that a master differs from a ruler (ταύτῃ γὰρ διαφέρει τοῦ ἄρχοντος). And what good could come to god because of a human being? (τί δὲ ἂν γένοιτο θεῷ ἀγαθὸν διὰ ἀνθρώπου;) — Their respective goods do concur with one another (Ἢ ἐκείνοις ἑκάτερον τῷ ἑτέρῳ σύνδρομον). Thus, the Stoics say, the master cares for the slave (φροντίζει δὲ καὶ ὁ τῇδε δεσπότης τοῦ δούλου), but only because of himself (ἀλλὰ δι’ ἑαυτόν), and so too the gods: they do everything chiefly for themselves (πάντα γὰρ ποιοῦσι δι’ ἑαυτοὺς προηγουμένως). (Damascius, In Phd. 32 = SVF 2.1118) The passage assumes the same kind of definitions of a master and a slave as Alexander’s: while a slave’s function is to serve somebody else (his master), a master must be thought of as being concerned ‘not with the good of the slave but his own good’. But being concerned only with one’s own good is also how a master differs from a ruler, for a ruler is concerned with the wellbeing of his subjects. Therefore, asks Damascius, how can we conceive gods as being not only our rulers, but also our masters? He then gives the answer of the Stoics: rather than refusing the attribute of ‘masters’ to gods, they hold that gods do ‘everything chiefly6 for themselves’, like masters do. Still, they insist that gods are beneficial to humans and that they themselves benefit from them because ‘their respective goods do concur with one another’.

3 The Stoics on the good and the advantageous 3.1 The good and what is advantageous (to oneself) To better understand the Stoic reply we need first to go back to Alexander’s objection and elucidate its principles. In many ways, it echoes the old

296  Chapter 10 debate between proponents of self-interest and defenders of justice (or, more generally, of the ‘morally good’ or the ‘honourable’, τὸ καλόν, honestum). In the first book of Plato’s Republic, Socrates defends the view that no one in any position of authority (ἐν … ἀρχῇ), to the extent that he is in authority, thinks about or prescribes what is advantageous for himself (τὸ αὑτῷ συμφέρον), but only what is advantageous for the person or thing under his authority – for whose benefit he himself exercises his art or skill.7 So, for instance, the art of medicine, which a doctor uses, does not think about what is good for itself (being an art, it is, by itself, already perfect) but what is good for the body, that is, for the doctor’s patient. And the same is true of the art of the ruler in relation to his subjects. Against this thesis, Thrasymachus, proponent of the self-interest view, defends a completely opposite political model: T10-6 You [Socrates] seem to imagine that shepherds, or herdsmen, are thinking about the good of their sheep or their cattle – that they are fattening them up and looking after them with some other end in view than the good of their masters and themselves (πρὸς ἄλλο τι βλέποντας ἢ τὸ τῶν δεσποτῶν ἀγαθὸν καὶ τὸ αὑτῶν). In particular, you don’t seem to realise that rulers in cities – rulers in the true sense – regard their subjects as their sheep, and that the only thing they’re interested in, day and night, is what advantage they themselves are going to derive from them (ὅθεν αὐτοὶ ὠφελήσονται). Such an expert are you in the just and justice, and in the unjust and injustice, that you haven’t even grasped that justice and the just are actually the good of someone else (ἡ μὲν δικαιοσύνη καὶ τὸ δίκαιον ἀλλότριον ἀγαθὸν τῷ ὄντι) – good for the stronger, the ruler – while for the one who obeys and follows, they mean harm to himself (οἰκεία … βλάβη). Injustice is the opposite. It rules over those who are truly simple-minded, the just, and its subjects do what is advantageous for that other person, the one who is stronger (οἱ δ’ ἀρχόμενοι ποιοῦσιν τὸ ἐκείνου συμφέρον κρείττονος ὄντος). They serve him (ὑπηρετοῦντες αὐτῷ), and make him happy. They don’t make themselves happy at all. (Pl. Rep. 1.343b, trans. Griffith, adapted) Thrasymachus’ account of ruling is very much in line with Alexander’s depiction of god as somebody who must first of all care for himself and who would be harmed if he were to act for the sake of others. A true ruler like god should act as a master in the sense that, being superior, he is not interested in the good of his people, only in his own good; and the people who obey his rule are like slaves serving their master, that is, making him happy while at the same time being harmed and making themselves unhappy. If a ruler were to act for the sake of others, he would necessarily become inferior to them.

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  297 As we learn from Thrasymachus, people who think that justice (i.e. the obedience to the laws and custom of one’s city) is what is good are ignorant of the fact that justice is not one’s own (οἰκεῖον) good but an ‘alien good’ (ἀλλότριον ἀγαθόν), that is, someone else’s good.8 What he says implies at least two things. First, that the good that is naturally sought after by a human being, properly understood, is his or her own good. Secondly, that what is good is a private and exclusive thing: it is simply impossible for multiple people to share in one and the same good; to benefit from the possession of a good thing means at the same time to deprive others of it (and harm them in the process). Let us now turn to the Stoics and the way they analysed the self-interest view of the good: T10-7 We are told9 that Socrates used to curse those who first fancied that they could sever things [namely, honestas and utilitas] that were by nature combined. The Stoics have so agreed with him that they hold that everything that is honourable is advantageous (quicquid honestum esset, id utile esse censerent), and that there is nothing advantageous that is not honourable (nec utile quicquam, quod non honestum). (Cic. Off. 3.11 = SVF 1.558, trans. Atkins, adapted; cf. Off. 2.9) The passage is from Cicero’s On Appropriate Actions (based upon an eponymous work by Panaetius), in which Cicero examines the relationship between the honourable (virtue and especially justice) and what is advantageous. Although the two notions are analysed in different books, Cicero insists (Off. 2.9) that the separation is only in thought, since, in reality, honestas and utilitas are inseparable. T10-7 shows that he is following the Stoics who themselves agreed with Socrates for having cursed the first person who thought that something can be morally good but not advantageous to oneself, and vice versa. There is also one extant Stoic syllogism meant to demonstrate that justice and what is advantageous should not be separated: T10-8 All that is just is honourable (πᾶν δίκαιον καλόν), and all that is honourable is good (πᾶν καλὸν ἀγαθόν); therefore, all that is just is good (πᾶν ἄρα δίκαιον ἀγαθόν). But it is also the case that what is good is the same as what is advantageous (ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ τὸ ἀγαθὸν τῷ συμφέροντι ταὐτόν); therefore, all that is just is advantageous (πᾶν ἄρα δίκαιον συμφέρον). (Procl. In Alc. 318 = SVF 3.310) The text confirms that there should be no separation between what is honourable (justice, in particular) and what is advantageous to oneself (τὸ συμφέρον). But it also helps us understand that the Stoics at least agree with the self-interest view on one crucial point: ‘what is good is the same as what is advantageous’. That shows that, according to the Stoics, the origin of the error

298  Chapter 10 made by the proponents of the self-interest view (in T10-7) is that they failed to recognize that the good and the honourable are actually one and the same. It is important to acknowledge the centrality of the notion of advantage in the Stoic conception of the good. Their famous and distinctive account of the good, namely, that ‘only the honourable is good’,10 is actually based upon it, as can be seen from the following passages aimed at showing that none of the so-called external or bodily goods are actually truly advantageous: T10-9a For these things are not good but indifferents (ἀδιάφορα) of the species ‘preferred’ (προηγμένα). For just as heating, not chilling, is the peculiar characteristic (ἴδιον) of what is hot, so too being advantageous, not being harmful, is the peculiar characteristic of what is good (οὕτω καὶ ἀγαθοῦ τὸ ὠφελεῖν, οὐ τὸ βλάπτειν). But wealth and health are no more advantageous than harmful. Therefore, wealth and health are not something good. Furthermore, they say: that which can be used well and badly (ᾧ ἔστιν εὖ καὶ κακῶς χρῆσθαι) is not something good (τοῦτ’ οὐκ ἔστιν ἀγαθόν). But wealth and health can be used well and badly. Therefore, wealth and health are not something good. (D.L. 7.101–103 = SVF 3.117 and 58A4–6 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) T10-9b The indifferent (ἀδιάφορον), they say, is that which contributes neither to happiness nor to unhappiness; and indifferent in this signification, they say, are health and disease and all things of the body and most external things because they tend neither towards happiness nor towards unhappiness. For that which it is possible to use either well or ill (ᾧ γὰρ ἔστιν εὖ καὶ κακῶς χρῆσθαι) will be indifferent; and whereas one always uses virtue well (διὰ παντὸς δ’ ἀρετῇ μὲν καλῶς) and vice ill, one can use health and the things of the body at one time well and at another ill, and consequently they will be indifferent. (S.E. M 11.61, trans. Bury, adapted) ‘Being advantageous’ (τὸ ὠφελεῖν), says T10-9a, is the peculiar characteristic (ἴδιον) of the good (τὸ ἀγαθόν), and it is therefore also how one can distinguish what is good from what is not good: either a thing is harmful, and it is therefore the opposite of good, or it is neither advantageous nor harmful, in which case it is an indifferent (ἀδιάφορον). Things like wealth and health, which are usually taken to be good by ordinary people, in fact can be used in a good or a bad way. In our sources, examples of these are regularly associated with Plato’s Socrates who explains, in the Euthydemus for instance, that only knowledge can help us make good use of these so-called goods11; ignorance, on the other hand, will systematically make bad use of them and thus make us unhappy. The Stoics fully agree with Plato’s Socrates, saying that all indifferents (be they preferred or dispreferred) are like matter for virtue, for only virtue knows how to use them, that is, how to make them

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  299 12

useful and advantageous. Virtue (or the honourable), says T10-9b, is also the only thing that is always advantageous, because it is impossible to make bad use of it. That is why only virtue is good. So, from a Stoic point of view, the reason why the defenders of the selfinterest view failed to acknowledge that the honourable or the just is good, is not because they did not know that the good is advantageous and useful (for they did), but because they failed to correctly use the notion of ‘advantage’ as a criterion for determining what is truly (that is, always) good. 3.2 Oikeiôsis and the good The importance the Stoics gave to what is advantageous explains why they fully agree with the self-interest view that everything one does, one does for oneself rather than for somebody else: first and foremost, what one seeks after is what will be advantageous to oneself (and thus make us happy). But because the Stoics identify the good with the honourable and the just, they also firmly distanced themselves from the self-interest view by stating that what is good is not exclusive: what is good is common and the good of everybody is necessarily interconnected. The combination of these two features is at the heart of Epictetus’ conception of οἰκείωσις or familiarization, which one finds described in the following passage13: T10-10 For as a general rule (Καθόλου) – and one should have no illusions on the matter – there is nothing that a living creature is more strongly familiarized with (ᾠκείωται) than its own advantage (τῷ ἰδίῳ συμφέροντι). So whatever seems to him to be standing in the way of that advantage, be it a brother, or father, or child, or lover, or beloved, he will proceed to hate, reject, and curse. For there is nothing that he loves so much by nature (φιλεῖν πέφυκεν) as his own advantage (τὸ αὑτοῦ συμφέρον)…. For that reason, if one identifies one’s advantage with piety (τὸ ὅσιον), the honourable (τὸ καλὸν), one’s country, one’s parents, one’s friends, all of them will be safeguarded (σῴζεται ταῦτα πάντα); but if one places one’s advantage in one scale and one’s friends, country, and parents, and justice itself, in the other, the latter will all be lost, because they will be outweighed there. For where the ‘I’ and the ‘mine’ stand is where the living being necessarily inclines (ὅπου γὰρ ἂν τὸ ‘ἐγὼ’ καὶ τὸ ‘ἐμόν’, ἐκεῖ ἀνάγκη ῥέπειν τὸ ζῷον); if they’re in the flesh, it is there that the ruling power (τὸ κυριεῦον) will reside; if in the faculty of choice (ἐν προαιρέσει), the ruling power will be there; if in external things, it will be there. It follows that if I am where my faculty of choice is, in that case alone (οὕτως μόνως) will I be the friend, the son, the father that I ought to be. For then it will be advantageous to me (μοι συνοίσει) to preserve my trustworthiness, my sense of shame, my patience, my temperance, my cooperativeness, and to maintain good relations with others. (Epict. D. 2.22.15–20, trans. Hard, adapted)

300  Chapter 10 We have seen that familiarization includes one element of affection and love: we have an impulse towards those things we are familiar with (or people which are our familiars) because we value them and hold them dear. What a living being is most familiarized with is actually its own personal advantage (τὸ ἴδιον συμφέρον), says Epictetus. He states it as a universal and natural rule. Indeed, as we have seen in Chapter 9, it is god himself, the Stoics say, that has made human beings (or animals in general) inclined towards their own preservation at birth (see supra T9-1 and T9-8): they are created so that they will immediately recognize themselves as familiar and dear, which, in turn, will provoke in them an impulse (rather than repulsion or indifference) towards themselves and the things that help preserve themselves. All this is well in line with the self-interest view of the good. But, like his other fellow Stoics, Epictetus also claims that seeking after one’s own advantage is not contradictory to morality and justice. On the contrary. Only those who ignore what they truly are and identify themselves with external or corporeal things will become antisocial. As for those who have correctly identified themselves with their προαίρεσις (faculty of choice), that is, with reason (the divine part in human beings), they will always seek to preserve morality and justice. Indeed, once you value your own προαίρεσις above everything else, you don’t look anymore at external ‘goods’ as worthy of being pursued (as explained in Chapter 8, section 3.3), which removes all ground for dispute and war with other people. At the same time, to seek after the good of one’s own προαίρεσις necessarily entails the preservation of all the excellences of the soul, and especially justice itself. So, not only is doing everything for oneself not necessarily contrary to justice and morality, but, in fact, for something to become truly advantageous to us, it must also necessarily be advantageous to others: T10-11 This is not selfishness (Τοῦτο οὐκ ἔστιν φίλαυτον), because it lies in the nature of every living creature that it does everything for its own sake (αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα πάντα ποιεῖ). Even the sun does everything for its own sake, and so indeed does Zeus himself. But when Zeus wishes to be the Raingiver and Fruit-bringer and father of gods and humans, you can see that he cannot achieve such things or earn such titles unless he contributes to the common advantage. And in general, he has constituted the rational animal to have such a nature that he cannot attain any of his own particular goods without contributing to the common advantage. And so, in the end it isn’t antisocial (οὐκέτι ἀκοινώνητον) to do everything for one’s own sake (τὸ πάντα αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα ποιεῖν). After all, what do you expect? That one should show no concern for oneself and one’s advantage? How, in that case, could all living creatures have one and the same principle (μία καὶ ἡ αὐτὴ ἀρχὴ), namely familiarization to themselves (ἡ πρὸς αὐτὰ οἰκείωσις)? (Epict. D. 1.19.11–15, trans. Hard, adapted)

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  301 To illustrate the principle that it is not possible to benefit from an advantage without at the same time being advantageous to others, Epictetus chooses the example of Zeus and the many epithets he has received from human beings because of all his good deeds towards them (see also supra T9-29). In the context of οἰκείωσις, one of these examples is particularly apt: Zeus as ‘father of gods and humans’. We have already seen how important parental love for children is, according to the Stoics, since they hold that it constitutes the starting point of all human societies (see T4-13a, and Chapter 7, section 2). Indeed, it is not possible to generate offspring without having strong affection (φιλοστοργία) for them. Such a natural impulse towards one’s own children must therefore also be Zeus’, and that is why he cannot be ‘father of gods and humans’ without at the same time loving human beings and be advantageous to them. The idea that gods themselves, like any other animals, ‘do everything for their own sake’, is particularly valuable to us as it sheds important light on the way the Stoics responded (in T10-5) to Alexander’s objection (T10-4). Contrary to what Alexander argues, there is no contradiction between god performing his own activities and the preservation of mortals that his providence entails. Being an animal, god will do everything for his own sake and thus act like a master; but that will not prevent him from being a true ruler who cares for his people (T10-5), because it is impossible for him, who has providence in his very essence, not to be providential and advantageous to human beings.

4 Cosmic oikeiôsis By claiming that ‘Even the sun does everything for its own sake, and so indeed does Zeus himself’ (T10-11), Epictetus is happy to attribute οἰκείωσις to oneself to Zeus, and therefore also, it seems, to the world itself (for the identification of god to the world, see T3-7 [a]). The idea of a cosmic οἰκείωσις is rarely, if ever, acknowledged in Stoic studies. However, as we are going to see now and in the final section of this chapter, cosmic οἰκείωσις is of central importance for us to understand how and why divine providence is related to its two distinct objects: the world itself (T10-1) and human beings (T10-3), in particular individual human beings (see infra T10-23). We have seen in Chapter 9 that οἰκείωσις or familiarization with oneself, which one can observe in animals at birth, implies two fundamental elements: sense-perception of oneself and one’s parts (T9-5 and T9-6), and impulse or affection towards oneself (T9-1 and T9-8). While the former makes it possible for the animal to have the knowledge of itself, its parts and how to use these parts, the latter provides the necessary affection and drive without which no animal can survive. Those two elements are directly related to the two faculties that are distinctive of animals: sense-perception and impulse. Since the world is an animal, according to the Stoics (see Chapter 3, sections 1.1–2), it must possess those two faculties. Therefore, if

302  Chapter 10 we want to better understand the idea of a cosmic οἰκείωσις, we need to have a better grasp of the sense-perception and impulse of the world or god and the role they play in the preservation of the world and its parts. 4.1 God has sense-perception How far were the Stoics willing to go when it comes to recognizing that the world has sense-perception and impulses, like any other animals? Let us start with sense-perception, since there can be no impulse without it (see infra T10-16a). Cicero has preserved a proof by Zeno that the world is ‘not devoid of sense-perception’: T10-12 Zeno argued thus: ‘Nothing devoid of sensation can have a part that is sentient; but the world has parts that are sentient; therefore, the world is not devoid of sensation.’ (Cic. ND 2.22 = 54G1 L.-S., trans. Rackham) Zeno bases his claim that the world possesses sense-perception on the recognized observational fact that a sentient being possesses sentient parts (like eyes, ears or nose). Whatever has sentient parts should therefore also be held sentient. Since animals are parts of the world and animals are sentient, the world itself should therefore be taken to have sense-perception.14 While extant fragments provide details about the location of the ἡγεμονικόν of the world, namely, the sun (Cleanthes) or the highest parts of the aether (Chrysippus), little is known about the sentient parts of the world. At least, we know that, following Plato’s Timaeus, the Stoics did not provide the world with sense organs like eyes and ears15: since there is nothing outside the world to be seen or heard, such organs would be useless. Any sense-organ of the world must be thought to exist inside the world and serve the purpose of self-knowledge. As to how, precisely, the world has senseperception of itself (and its parts), some valuable pieces of information can be retrieved, thanks to the following passage16: T10-13 (includes T3-4) [a] The world is directed by intelligence and providence, as said by Chrysippus in his On Providence and Posidonius in his On Gods book 13, since intelligence pervades every part of it, just like the soul in us. [b] But it pervades some parts to a greater extent and others to a lesser degree. Through some parts it passes as tenor (ὡς ἕξις), as through bones and sinews. Through others as intelligence (ὡς νοῦς), as through the commanding-faculty. [c] So the whole world, which is an animal and animate and rational, has the aether as its commanding-faculty, as Antipater of Tyre says in his On the World book 8. But Chrysippus in his On Providence book 1 and Posidonius in his On Gods say that the world’s commanding-faculty is the heaven, and Cleanthes the sun. Yet Chrysippus in the same book has a rather different account – the purest

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  303 part of the aether; [d] this they say, as primary god, passes perceptibly (αἰσθητικῶς) as it were through the things in the air and through all animals and plants, and through the earth itself by way of tenor (καθ’ ἕξιν). (D.L. 7.138–139 = SVF 2.634 and 47O L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley) At first sight, Diogenes Laertius’ report seems to be about the well-known Stoic account of how the world is unified by a single nature (god) that can take various forms, namely, ‘tenor’ (ἕξις) in stones and bones, ‘nature’ (φύσις) in plants and ‘soul’ (ψυχή) in animals. However, a closer look shows that it is probably not what the passage is specifically about. First, one finds no mention in the text of god as nature (in plants) nor, as I shall argue, as soul (in animals). Second, the doctrine that the world possesses a single nature was a way for the Stoics to specify what sort of body the world is (i.e. a unified whole) by distinguishing it from other kinds of bodies, in particular ‘things which exist by contact’ (like ships) or ‘by separation’ (like an army).17 Again, we find no mention of this in the text. These discrepancies are easily explained if we identify the real topic of the whole passage, hinted at in [a] and [b]: an analogy between the world and a human being is used to show that the world is a rational animal and should be studied as such. The idea is that we could, and in fact should, look at the world as a human being, with a soul that possesses a commanding faculty (intelligence or νοῦς) as its main part [c] and other parts that extend from the commanding faculty to the sense organs [d].18 Like the human body, the world also possesses bones and sinew [b], which are sustained by its soul.19 Once we have correctly identified what the passage is about, we can concentrate on the question of sense-perception: if the world is comparable to a rational animal like a human being, then it should be endowed with sense organs of some sort. Not, as already noted, organs directed to what is outside (like eyes or ears), but organs that are directed towards what is within. The crucial information provided in the text is the following: ‘the world’s commanding-faculty (…) passes perceptibly (αἰσθητικῶς) as it were through the things in the air and through all animals and plants’. ‘Perceptibly’ cannot here simply refer to unification of animals by soul. Indeed, plants, which are listed alongside ‘things in the air’ and ‘all animals’ [d], do not possess sense-perception and, for that reason, are not held as ensouled according to the Stoics. ‘Perceptibly’ should therefore rather be taken as referring to how some parts of the world soul extend from the commanding faculty of that soul towards sense organs, just like in a human being. If that is the case, ‘the things in the air’, all the animals and plants should also be taken as god’s senses, ‘perceiving what happens in the part of the world where they are’.20 4.1.1 Sense-captors located in the air Let us have a closer look at them. The list of ‘the things in the air’, ‘all animals’ and ‘plants’ appears to be exhaustive, and its classification is based

304  Chapter 10 on the world’s topography. Since the text speaks of ‘all animals’ as a second group of beings, ‘things in the air’ probably refers not to birds, but rather to ensouled beings of a higher nature. A passage from Sextus Empiricus helps us identify those superior beings: T10-14 [a] Again, if a variety of animals, sharing in the power of soul and sense-perception, develop on land and in the sea (ἐν γῇ καὶ θαλάσσῃ), where there is a lot of density in the parts, [b] it is much more plausible that certain ensouled and intelligent animals develop in the air (ἐν τῷ ἀέρι), which has much more clarity and purity compared with earth and water. [c] And consonant with this is the fact that the Dioscuri are good spirits (ἀγαθούς… δαίμονας), saviours of well-benched ships, and that ‘Thrice ten thousand they are on the much-nourishing earth, Zeus’ immortal guardians over human beings’.21 [d] But if it is plausible that there are animals in the air, it is entirely reasonable that beings of an animal nature should also occupy the aether (ἐν τῷ αἰθέρι), which is where humans too get their share of intelligent capacities (ὅθεν καὶ ἄνθρωποι νοερᾶς μετέχουσι δυνάμεως), drawing them from there (ἐκεῖθεν αὐτὴν σπάσαντες). [e] But if there are animals of the aether, which seem to excel by far over the terrestrial ones in that they are imperishable and ungenerated, it will be conceded that there are also gods, which are no different from these (S.E. M 9.86–87 = SVF 2.1014, trans. Bett) This account is one of a series of Stoic arguments for the existence of god, and the direct context of the passage shares some similarities22 with our T10-13. It aims at proving the existence of gods [e] by showing that animals appear to dwell in all the known regions of the world, and that their cognitive capacities depend on the type of body that is characteristic of each region. So, animals that develop ‘on land and in the sea’ [a] share in the power of soul and sense-perception (but not intelligence) because earth and water are dense types of bodies. It is therefore likely, the argument says, [b] that animals living in purer regions such as air and aether possess higher forms of cognitive capacities. One fact is then adduced [c] to show that it is indeed the case of animals living in the air. As the text makes it clear, animals that live ‘in the air’ are not birds but good daemons,23 that is, gods of a lower type. From this observational fact, the argument concludes that there must be an even higher form of intelligent animals living in the aether [d], and that they must be gods [e]. As to human beings, they are not to be counted among non-rational animals living on lands and in the sea since they are said to draw (σπάσαντες)24 their intelligent capacities from the aether. 4.1.2 Other sense-captors Let us return to the list of sense-captors given in T10-13 [d]. The expression ‘all animals’ must probably include irrational sea and land animals and also human beings. As to plants, they introduce us to the subterranean region

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  305 of the world: earth. Earth itself, however, is not said to be a place where the commanding faculty of the world can extend ‘perceptibly’, only ‘by way of tenor’. This suggests that earth is to the world what ‘bones and sinews’ are to humans. Since bones are numb, it is understandable why earth itself, as the lowest type of body or ‘element’ in the world, is not ‘perceptibly’ pervaded by πνεύματα coming from the world’s commanding faculty. The things in the air, all animals and plants are therefore to be understood as cosmic sense-captors, analogous to human eyes and ears. The analogy, however, does not require these captors to have a sense-perceptive part themselves: they serve as senses of the world, exactly as eyes or ears do in relation to humans. There is no problem, therefore, for plants (which lack sense-perception) to be counted as sense-captors themselves. That plants but not earthly stones can serve as sense-captors of the world is due, I think, to the common ground they share with animals. Indeed, contrary to things that are maintained by simple tenor, plants possess in themselves the cause of their own movements, like animals25: T10-15 Of moving things, some have the cause of movement in themselves (τὰ μέν τινα ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἔχει τὴν τῆς κινήσεως αἰτίαν), while others are moved only from outside (ἕτερα δὲ ἔξωθεν μόνον κινεῖται). The latter comprise things which are transportable, like logs and stones and every material thing which is sustained by tenor alone (ἡ ὑπὸ ἕξεως μόνης συνεχομένη). (…) Animals and plants have the cause of movement in themselves, and so, quite simply, does everything maintained by nature or soul (ὑπὸ φύσεως καὶ ψυχῆς συνέχεται): among them it is said that one finds also veins of metals, and in addition to them also the self-moving fire (τὸ πῦρ αὐτοκίνητόν), and perhaps even springs. Some things of this kind, they say, are moved ‘from’ themselves (ἐξ ἑαυτῶν), and others ‘by’ themselves (ἀφ’ ἑαυτῶν): the former comprise soulless things, the latter ones which are ensouled. (Origen, Princ. 3.1.2 = SVF 2.988 and 53A L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) Even though the Stoics distinguished between three types of unification – simple cohesion or ἕξις, nature and soul – it is clear from this text that they held plants and animals as two species (things moved ‘from’ themselves such as plants, and things moved ‘by’ themselves such as ensouled animals) within one single genus and that they saw the real main opposition lying between that one genus (of moving things that have the cause of their movement in themselves) and the things that are moved from the outside (those held by a simple cohesion like logs and stones). As explained by Bénatouïl,26 the Stoics have a taxonomical and phenomenological (rather than etiological) approach to nature: they first take into consideration the external behaviour of things, and then only try to explain it by reference to the presence of an active principle within them. This observational approach explains why they are in a position to include,

306  Chapter 10 within the kind of autonomous beings (animals and plants), things that would normally be considered as ontologically inferior, like metals, springs and fire. From other testimonies,27 we learn that the reason why both plants and animals have in themselves the cause of their movements is that, contrary to lifeless things like stones or pieces of wood, they are not simple or homogeneous: they have in themselves a part that distinguishes itself from the rest by sheltering a commanding faculty.28 There is something in a plant – the commanding faculty – that is responsible for its movements. Plants have the complex physical apparatus required for the possession of a commanding faculty, and it is plausible that it is because of this that the Stoics thought that plants can also serve as sense-captors for the world. Indeed, we may assume that it is through their own commanding faculty that they can transmit their movements to the commanding faculty of the world itself. By reducing the gap separating plants from animals and by opening the realm of animals and plants to things usually assumed to be lifeless, the Stoics were able, at the same time, to extend god’s senses to virtually every region of the world. God or the world is therefore to be understood as a fully self-conscious animal. 4.2 God has impulses 4.2.1 Impulse as cause of movements Impulse (ὁρμή) is, with sense-perception, the other distinctive function of the ἡγεμονικόν of the soul of animals. Before examining the specific case of cosmic impulses, it is important to have a better understanding of how impulse is defined by the Stoics in the context of regular animals and human beings29: T10-16a Sense-perception (αἴσθησις), as the name itself shows, is ‘a putting in’ (εἴσθεσίς): it introduces what has appeared to it (τὰ φανέντα) to the mind. (…) Impression (φαντασία) is an imprint in the soul. (…) What has appeared and made impression puts the soul sometimes in a familiar (οἰκείως) disposition, sometimes in an alien (ἑτέρως) disposition. And this affection of the soul is called ‘impulse’ (ὁρμή), which has been defined as ‘the first movement of the soul’ (πρώτην … ψυχῆς κίνησιν). (Phil. Immut. 42.1–44.3 = SVF 2.458, trans. Colson and Whitaker, adapted) T10-16b Impulse (ὁρμή) is thus a carrying of the mind towards something or away from something (φορὰ διανοίας ἐπί τι ἢ ἀπό του). (Clem. Strom. 2.13.59.6 = SVF 3.377) From these texts we learn that an impulse is a movement (κίνησις, φορά) of the soul (or, more specifically, of the mind, in human beings), that occurs in direction of or in rejection from something that is presented to our mind

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  307 when an impression (φαντασία) is impressing itself upon us. Depending on the impression that is being received, an impulse shall refer either to a state of familiarity (οἰκείως) with regard to the thing that appears to us, or to a state of alienation (ἑτέρως). In the former case, our mind will be well-disposed and inclined to get closer to the familiar thing that it is presented with; in the latter case, it will be ill-disposed and inclined to flee from it. Both texts make it clear that they are dealing with generic impulse, which is divided by the Stoics into impulse in the specific sense (ὁρμή) and repulsion (ἀφορμή).30 One last, but all important, piece of information is that an impulse is the ‘first’ movement of the soul. To see in what sense it is, we must have a better grasp of the ‘something’ in relation to which there are impulses. Other sources explain that the objects of impulses differ from those of assents: the latter are propositions (ἀξιώματα), the former are predicates (κατηγορήματα), which are contained in a sense in the propositions.31 Now, predicates refer to what is caused by bodies, according to the Stoics,32 that is, to incorporeal attributes (e.g. being cut) that are true of a body (e.g. some bread) because of the action of another body (e.g. a knife).33 In that sense, what impulses are about are ‘acts rather than things’.34 Indeed, in the specific case of human beings, where impulses are rational, an impulse is defined as ‘a movement of thought towards something in the sphere of action’.35 So, if impulse is described as the ‘first movement of the soul’ in T10-16a, it is presumably to indicate that it is the first of a sequence of movements constituting or leading to an action of some sort. But there is more. Predicates are typically presented as effects or results (ἀποτελέσματα).36 This suggests that an impulse is a first movement in a stronger sense: impulse is ultimately what is responsible for the movements and actions that follow from it. It is not possible to explain this chain of movements by looking for a first movement that would precede (logically and chronologically) an impulse. Were there a movement preceding the impulse itself, it would necessarily have to occur from outside the soul. But we have seen (T10-15) that the Stoics hold that ‘everything maintained by nature or soul’ possesses the cause of movement ‘in themselves’. It is not possible to say, for instance, that what is responsible for my impulse to drink this bottle or walk that path is the effect upon me of an impression of a bottle of water or of a quiet path in the woods. If that were so, the cause would not be inside of me (in the commanding faculty of my soul), but outside. Therefore, impulses are the first movements of the soul in the sense that they are the primary causes of the movements of an animal. Impulses are what ultimately make animals37 responsible38 for their actions. 4.2.2 Cosmic impulses We can now turn ourselves more directly to the question of cosmic impulses. Does the world have impulses of its own? Balbus says it does: T10-17 (precedes T10-1) And as the other particular kinds of nature are generated, reared and maintained each by its own seeds (suis seminibus

308  Chapter 10 quaeque gignuntur augescunt continentur), so the nature of the world as a whole (natura mundi omnis) has voluntary motions (motus… uoluntarios) as well as tendency and impulses (conatusque et adpetitiones), that the Greeks call hormai, and its actions are done in accordance with these, in the same way as we do ourselves, who are moved by our mind and senses (animis mouemur et sensibus). (Cic. ND 2.58 = SVF 1.172 and 53Y L.-S., trans. Rackham, adapted) The text is found in the middle of T1-5, a passage that is about Zeno’s conception of providence, in which it is explained that the nature of the world is not simply ‘craftsmanlike’ but a ‘craftsman’ who has at heart the preservation of the world, its completeness and its beauty. As explained in Chapter 1, Zeno did not see any essential difference between art and nature: both proceed in an orderly way and aim at some good, namely generation (rather than destruction). Here, Balbus specifies that what nature does, it does not only for the sake of giving life (gignuntur), but also for the sake of preserving life (augescunt continentur). We have already acknowledged the importance of this distinction in Chapters 1 (see T1-3, with commentary) and 9. The comparison between the nature of the world and a craftsman probably helps explain why Balbus introduces here the topic of the impulses of the world: the movements of the world are comparable to the actions of a rational animal; like them, they are produced in accordance with the impulses of the mind and the senses. Those actions or movements are said to be ‘voluntary’, probably in the sense that they are natural rather than forced. Further information is found in another passage of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods, which focuses on the spontaneous nature of god as fire: T10-18 [a] The intense heat of the world does not derive its movement from the operation of some other force from outside, but moves itself, by itself, spontaneously (per se ipse ac sua sponte moueatur): for how can there be anything more powerful than the world, to impart movement and activity (pellat atque moueat) to the warmth by which the world is maintained (teneatur)? [b] For let us hear Plato, that divine philosopher, for so almost is he to be deemed. He holds that movement is of two sorts, one ours, the other without; and that which moves of itself spontaneously (ex se sua sponte) is more divine than that which has movement imparted to it by some force not its own. The former kind of movement he deems to reside only in the soul, which he considers to be the source and origin of movement (principium motus). [c] Hence, since all movement (motus omni) springs from the world-heat (ex mundi ardore), and since that heat moves not by any pushing from something else (non alieno inpulsu) but spontaneously (sua sponte), it follows that the world is an animate being. (Cic. ND 2.30–32, trans. Rackham, adapted)

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  309 The recognition of cosmic impulses is here part of a complex Stoic proof that the world is an animate being. That proof itself depends on two accounts: one, distinctly Stoic, is the doctrine of craftsmanlike fire initially set up by Zeno (T1-2 and T1-3) and fully endorsed by Cleanthes (T2-14) and later Stoics; the other, from ‘the divine philosopher’ Plato, is a distinction, elaborated in the Timaeus (88e-89a) and the Laws (10.894b), between movements that are caused ‘by themselves’ and movements that are caused ‘by other movements’. There are reasons to believe that the argument39 was elaborated by Panaetius or by Posidonius: both are known for the great respect in which they held Plato (see supra T4-1a-c and Posidonius T97 E.-K.) and for their particular interest in physics (D.L. 7.41) and providence. The reference to Plato is done for the sake of strengthening some core doctrine of Stoicism, namely, the idea that the world is an animal and that it has fire as principle of movement. Plato’s distinction between two kinds of movements (spontaneous and externally caused) fits well the Stoic doctrine of impulses we have just recalled: impulses are principles and causes of movements and what ultimately make animals responsible for their actions. In that respect, fire, which the Stoics held to be αὐτοκίνητος (T10-15), is particularly well suited to serve as the principle of movements of the world: it does not move because of something else, but because of itself. The text also underlines the teleological nature of the cosmic impulses. Not only is fire self-moved, it also produces the heat without which no life can be preserved. Heat itself is produced for the sake of the world: that it shall be ‘maintained’ (teneatur). This agrees well with the idea of a cosmic οἰκείωσις: as we have seen, impulses (in the specific sense) are directed towards what is perceived as ‘familiar’ (T10-16a); when an animal is born, thanks to the sense-perception it has of itself, it is presented with an impression of itself as familiar and dear, and this leads to an impulse towards preserving and maintaining itself and its parts (see Chapter 9); since the world has sense-perception of itself (T10-13 [d]), it is understandable that, once the world is generated, it immediately finds itself in a familiar disposition towards itself and its first impulse is therefore directed towards its own preservation. 4.2.3 The self-maintenance of the world Let us have a closer look at the action that is caused by god’s impulses. To describe the action that results from the world-heat, Balbus uses the verbs tenere or sustenere.40 Both are straightforward Latin translations of the Greek ἔχειν and συνέχειν, verbs that are specifically used by the Stoics to account for the action and movements of nature: T10-19 By ‘nature’ they sometimes mean what maintains the world (τὴν συνέχουσαν τὸν κόσμον), and sometimes what makes things on the earth

310  Chapter 10 grow: nature is a state that moves from itself (ἕξις ἐξ αὑτῆς κινουμένη), which, in accordance with seminal principles, leads to completion and maintains (ἀποτελοῦσά τε καὶ συνέχουσα) the things that come from it at determinate times (ἐν ὡρισμένοις χρόνοις), and continues to perform the actions from which they came to light (τοιαῦτα δρῶσα ἀφ’ οἵων ἀπεκρίθη). (D.L. 7.148 = SVF 2.1132 and 43A2 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) The way the Stoics define (cosmic) nature is in line with their conception of impulses: nature is self-moved (like fire), and therefore the principle and ultimate cause of all movements; her actions follow a rational pattern and are aimed at the completion and maintenance of the things that come from it. The final sentence, namely that nature ‘continues to perform the actions from which (those things that she has created) came to light’, introduces us to the reason why nature is precisely said to ‘maintain’ the world. To see in what sense exactly, let us examine what a maintaining cause is according to the Stoics: T10-20 When ‘preliminary’ causes (Τῶν μὲν οὖν προκαταρκτικῶν) are removed the effect remains (μένει τὸ ἀποτέλεσμα), whereas a ‘maintaining’ cause (συνεκτικὸν … αἴτιον) is one during whose presence the effect remains and on whose removal the effect is removed (οὗ παρόντος μένει τὸ ἀποτέλεσμα καὶ αἰρομένου αἴρεται). The maintaining cause is called synonymously the ‘complete’ (αὐτοτελές) cause, since it is by itself, in a self-sufficient manner, productive of the effect (αὐτάρκως δι’ αὑτοῦ ποιητικόν ἐστι τοῦ ἀποτελέσματος). (Clem. Strom. 8.9.33.1–2 = SVF 2.351 and 55I1 L.-S., trans. Long and Sedley, adapted) The passage is part of a detailed account of the Stoic doctrine of causes. Despite the multiplicity of causes acknowledged by the Stoics (especially Chrysippus), what they are here reported saying about the συνεκτικόν or ‘maintaining’ type of cause indicates that they hold it as instantiating what a cause is essentially about. A comparison with other texts shows that a maintaining cause is what Zeno had initially simply called ‘cause’ (αἴτιον). Indeed, Zeno held that ‘a cause is “that because of which” (δι’ ὅ), while that of which it is the cause is an attribute’ and that ‘it is impossible that the cause be present yet that of which it is the cause not belong’.41 As examples, he said that ‘it is because of wisdom that being wise occurs, because of soul that being alive occurs’. Those examples fit perfectly with the conditions required by a ‘maintaining cause’: not only do their respective effects (being wise and being alive) remain when their causes are present, but these effects are similarly removed when their causes are removed. The giving of a distinct name to what was simply initially called a ‘cause’ was effected, in all probability, by Chrysippus, who is recognized, in other sources,42 as responsible for the distinction of different types of causes.

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  311 What is interesting for us, here, is the context which prompted Chrysippus to introduce a diversity of causes: moral responsibility. Chrysippus wanted to make clear in what sense human beings are responsible for their actions in a world where everything happens according to fate, and hence according to antecedent causes. That is what led him to distinguish between a cause that is ‘complete and primary’ (perfecta et principalis) and a cause that is simply ‘preliminary’ (προκαταρκτική) or ‘proximate’ (proxima). He explained that while an impulse, in a human being, cannot occur without having being prompted by an external impression (its antecedent cause),43 human beings must still be held responsible for their actions because the primary cause is in them, while impression is only a preliminary cause. The primary cause, that is, human impulse, is a maintaining cause: its effects happen because of it, in the strong (Zenonian) sense of the word. Let us now return to the nature of the world and its impulses. If the Stoics insisted on characterizing the action of god as that of ‘maintaining’ the world, it must be because they wanted to make it clear that god (or reason) is the sole true cause of everything that happens in the world: every movement is the result of god’s voluntary actions. By making god the cause of everything, they also made it essentially providential because what is distinctive of a maintaining cause is that it maintains its action, so to speak, in permanence: god did not simply create the world, but he is continuously working (see T10-19) at its development and conservation (which is what providence is all about).

5 Providence and individuals That the Stoics distinguished themselves from other schools by claiming that divine providence does not stop at the level of a concern for human beings taken generically, but actually extends down to the individuals themselves, is well attested in our testimonies. Our best sources are Cicero and Epictetus (but see also Marcus Aurelius in T8-27a, T8-28b and T8-28). We shall start with Epictetus’ account, in which cosmic οἰκείωσις plays a key role. 5.1 Epictetus’ account 5.1.1 Ancient conceptions of god In his Discourses, Epictetus provides a classification of views on god and providence that is of particular interest to us: T10-21 With regard to the gods, there are some who say that the divine doesn’t even exist,44 while others say that it does exist, but that it is inactive and indifferent (ἀργὸν δὲ καὶ ἀμελές), and exercises no providential care45 (μὴ προνοεῖν μηδενός); [a] while a third set of people maintain that it both exists and exercises providential care, but only with regard to important matters relating to the heavens (ἀλλὰ τῶν μεγάλων

312  Chapter 10 καὶ οὐρανίων), and in no way to affairs on earth (τῶν δὲ ἐπὶ γῆς μηδενός); [b] a fourth set declare that it does take thought for earthly and human affairs (τῶν ἐπὶ γῆς καὶ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων), but only in a general fashion (εἰς κοινὸν δὲ μόνον), without showing concern for each particular individual (οὐχὶ δὲ καὶ κατ’ ἰδίαν ἑκάστου); [c] while a fifth set, to which both Odysseus and Socrates belonged, say, ‘Not a movement of mine escapes you’ (οὐδέ σε λήθω κινύμενος). (Epict. D. 1.12.1–3, trans. Hard, adapted) Epictetus presents philosophers who endorsed divine providence as falling into three categories, depending on the level of the extension they grant to god’s providential intervention. The most restricted one [a] is also the most general: divine providence is limited to the world as a whole, that is, to the ‘important matters relating to the heavens’; it has absolutely no concerns for human beings. It is likely that Epictetus is thinking here principally of Aristotle, who in antiquity was credited with the view that ‘providence extends up to the heavenly beings’,46 although such a claim is not found in his extant work.47 As to those philosophers [b] who claimed that the gods take thought for earthly and human affairs, but ‘only in a general fashion’, it is possible that Epictetus has in view the Platonists, although the matter is not completely certain.48 At least, it is well known that the Platonist Atticus criticized Aristotle for making his god unconcerned with human beings.49 Now, even if Platonists extended divine providence to human beings, it is unclear whether they also made the further claim that the gods take care of individual human beings. But even if they did50 and Epictetus was aware of that, I believe that he would have challenged their claim. For, as we will see shortly, Epictetus’ own demonstration of personal providence depends on a very Stoic premise, namely god’s immanence, a premise that is, of course, not acceptable to a Platonist. In any case, it is clear from other texts of the Discourses that Epictetus himself fully endorses the most extended view on providence [c], one that he attributes to Socrates and Odysseus. As we shall see in the next section, the way Epictetus presents this last view on providence could be taken as evidence that he wanted to distinguish the Stoic view from Plato’s, hence also from the Platonic tradition. 5.1.2 Socrates and god’s omniscience The third view on providence reported in T10-21 is the only one whose proponents are explicitly identified by Epictetus. Although the actual words quoted are only recorded in connection with Odysseus’,51 the mention of Socrates’ name is explained by the following testimony of Xenophon, where one finds the belief in the omniscience of god attributed to him: T10-22 For in fact he held that the gods attend to human beings (ἐπιμελεῖσθαι θεοὺς ἐνόμιζεν ἀνθρώπων) not in the way that the many

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  313 held. For they think that the gods know some things and do not know others. But Socrates believed that the gods know all things (πάντα μὲν ἡγεῖτο θεοὺς εἰδέναι) – what is said, what is done, and what is silently deliberated (τά τε λεγόμενα καὶ πραττόμενα καὶ τὰ σιγῇ βουλευόμενα) – and that they are present everywhere (πανταχοῦ δὲ παρεῖναι) and give signs to human beings about all human matters. (Xen. Mem. 1.1.19, trans. Bonnette) The passage is part of Xenophon’s defence of Socrates against accusations of impiety. It aims to show that Socrates was truly pious and that he acted accordingly, convinced as he was that the gods know everything, including the unspoken thoughts of humans. It has already been recalled, in Chapter 4, that the Stoics considered themselves as Socratics and that they tried to retrieve Socrates’ philosophy through the works of Xenophon and Plato.52 In the latter case, they were particularly careful not to confuse53 Socrates’ own thought with Plato’s (the existence of separated Forms, the transcendence of the divine, etc.).54 Xenophon’s Memoirs of Socrates, on the other hand, was deemed a safer source, and it has been convincingly shown55 that it served as a basis for the development of the Stoic doctrine of providence (how the world and animals inhabiting it have been created for the sake of the human species, for instance). Our T10-21 (in connection with T10-22) suggests that Xenophon’s Socrates was influential also in regard to the Stoic doctrine of personal providence. In any case, given the fight over Socrates’ philosophical legacy that existed between Stoics and Platonists, it is possible that the attribution by Epictetus of the doctrine of personal providence to Xenophon’s Socrates was a way for him to try and show the uniqueness of the Stoic position with regard to the question of divine providence. 5.1.3 Demonstration of personal providence Epictetus’ demonstration is found in Discourses 1.14. Like in T10-21, it gives god’s omniscience a key role: T10-23 Someone asked him how one might be convinced that everything that one does is carried out under the eye of god (ἐφορᾶται ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ). [a] Don’t you think, he replied, that all things are unified (ἡνῶσθαι τὰ πάντα)? ‘Indeed I do,’ the man said. Well then, don’t you think that things here on earth are subject to the sympathetic influence of those in the heavens (συμπαθεῖν τὰ ἐπίγεια τοῖς οὐρανίοις)? ‘I do,’ he said. For how else could it come about with such regularity (οὕτω τεταγμένως), as though at god’s express command (καθάπερ ἐκ προστάγματος τοῦ θεοῦ), that when he tells the plants to flower, they flower, when he tells them to bud, they bud, and to bear their fruit, they bear it, and to bring it to ripeness, they bring it to ripeness, and when again he tells them to

314  Chapter 10 strip themselves and shed their leaves, and draw in on themselves, remain inactive, and take their rest, they remain so and take their rest? And how else could it come about that, in accord with the waxing and waning of the moon, and the approach and recession of the sun, we observe things on the earth undergoing such great transformations and changing into their opposites? [b] Now, if plants and our bodies are so intimately bound up with the whole and subject to its sympathetic influence (ἐν δέδεται τοῖς ὅλοις καὶ συμπέπονθεν), won’t the same be true of our souls in much higher degree (πολὺ πλέον)? But if our souls are closely bound and united to god (ἐνδεδεμέναι καὶ συναφεῖς τῷ θεῷ) in this way as portions and detached fragments of himself (αὐτοῦ μόρια οὖσαι καὶ ἀποσπάσματα), [c] does not god sense-perceive their every movement as being a movement that is familiar to him and connate with him (οὐ παντὸς δ’ αὐτῶν κινήματος ἅτε οἰκείου καὶ συμφυοῦς ὁ θεὸς αἰσθάνεται)? (Epict. D. 1.14.1–6, trans. Hard, adapted) The argument has three parts: first [a] Epictetus shows that the world is unified and that there is sympathetic influence (συμπάθεια) between the world’s soul or rather ἡγεμονικόν (i.e. celestial beings) and the movements of earthly bodies; then [b] he shows that there is an even stronger sympathy between the world’s soul and the particular rational souls of human beings since human souls are detached parts (ἀποσπάσματα) of god; finally [c], he concludes that god has sense-perception of what happens in those parts since they are his. The first part of Epictetus’ argument is based on the Stoic doctrine of types of bodies. We have already recalled, in Chapter 5, section 3.1, that the Stoics distinguish between three types of bodies, depending on the degree of unity they display: those that are the less united are bodies made of ‘things standing apart’ (ἐκ διεστώτων), like an army (made of individual soldiers); then come the bodies that are made of ‘things fastened together’ (ἐκ συναπτομένων), like a ship or a house; then only come the bodies that are truly ‘unified’ (ἡνωμένα), being integrated wholes the parts of which are inseparable and completely interconnected. A unified body is one where internal continuity allows for movements such as sense-perception to pass through, like in a living being. Not all unified bodies can experience sense-perception, though, and the Stoics, as we have seen, distinguish between three types of unification: by tenor (in stones), by nature (in plants) and by soul (in animals). In Epictetus’ argument, however, the idea that the world or god is a rational animal capable of senseperception is assumed on the basis not only that it is unified, but also that human beings (which are rational animals) are parts of it (see infra). In order to prove that the world is unified, the Stoics resorted to their doctrine of cosmic sympathy.56 Although that doctrine was already put forward by Chrysippus,57 our sources show that Posidonius was particularly keen to find concrete evidence for the existence of cosmic sympathy, especially with

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  315 regard to the influence of the moon on tides,58 which is probably alluded to by Epictetus in T10-23. Let us move to the second part of the argument. A unified body depends on the action of a single cause (god) permeating from within the whole of matter and making it an integrated whole, that is, a whole the parts of which are ‘connate’ (συμφυεῖς)59: contrary to the parts of an army or a ship, the parts of a unified body are completely inseparable and united in a truly organic way. This comes out as a key element in Epictetus’ argument which now proceeds to show that sympathy within the cosmic soul is even stronger than in the cosmos as a whole. God or cosmic reason, which is a body, is itself an integrated whole, and human souls are actually ‘portions and detached fragments (μόρια … καὶ ἀποσπάσματα)’ of god himself. Epictetus’ wording is important here: it reminds us that even though the ‘ruling powers’ or internal δαίμονες of human beings are usually presented by the Stoics as ἀποσπάσματα or detached fragments of god (on which see commentary on T3-3 [b] and T9-32), they are still essentially inseparable parts of him. They are ‘detached’ fragments in the sense that they are ‘offsprings’ of god himself: they are endowed with a capacity for autonomy that none of the other particular natures encompassed by the world possesses, but they remain inseparable from god because they are, by nature, parts of him.60 The final conclusion of the argument can now be easily drawn: since human souls are actual parts of god and it has been shown that the whole they are parts of is an integrated one, then god, who is an animal and has sense-perception of its parts, is necessarily aware of every movement (any ‘silent intention’) that these particulars souls undergo since these parts belong to him. Now, we might think that all that has been proven is that god has sense-perception of what happens within the souls of humans, not that he actually cares for individual human beings. At the same time, we have seen that, when Epictetus presents the case of those who defend personal providence (T10-21), he is content with attributing to them the thesis that god is omniscient: ‘Not a movement of mine escapes you’.61 To understand why, we need to bring in the doctrine of cosmic οἰκείωσις, which we have seen being advocated by Epictetus in T10-11. As we know, οἰκείωσις or familiarization with oneself has two interrelated dimensions: first, when one is born, one recognizes oneself as familiar or οἰκεῖος (in the epistemological sense of being known to oneself); second, as soon as that recognition has taken place (through sense-perception), one finds oneself dear and lovable and therefore has an impulse towards oneself. As a result, one starts immediately to care for oneself and to work for one’s own preservation. If we apply that model of behaviour to Epictetus’ god in T10-23, then the implicit link that Epictetus makes between sense-perceiving one’s parts and actually caring for them becomes fully understandable: like any other animals, god has sense-perception of its parts and of what they undergo; but also like any other animals, god is driven by a love for himself that will make him

316  Chapter 10 do everything for himself (T10-11), including taking care of his own parts. So, when god sense-perceives what is going on within particular human souls, he does not look at it as alien to himself but, on the contrary, as Epictetus himself says, as ‘familiar’ (οἰκεῖος, T10-23 [c]), in both senses (epistemological and affective) of the word. Because of that, god has the immediate impulse to care for individual human beings.62 Besides, since human beings are not only ‘portions’ of god but actually his offsprings, they will also necessarily benefit from the affection and care (φιλοστοργία) that a parent naturally has for his or her children (on which, see Chapter 7, section 2). 5.2 Cicero’s account The thesis of a personal kind of divine providence is reported in the very last section of Balbus’ account: T10-24 Nor is the deliberation and provision of the immortal gods (a dis inmortalibus consuli et prouideri) wont to be made only for the human race as a whole (uniuerso generi hominum solum), but it also extends to individuals (singulis). (Cic. ND 2.164, trans. Rackham, adapted) Balbus further gives two arguments in favour of personal providence: one based on the principle of a sorites, backed by testimonies of the poets; the other based on the Stoic doctrine of divination. 5.2.1 Parts and whole The first argument carries the idea that, once one acknowledges the existence of divine providence for humankind taken generally, there is simply no good reason not to recognize the existence of personal providence too: T10-25 [a] We may narrow down (contrahere) the entirety of the human race and bring it gradually down to smaller and smaller groups (gradatim ad pauciores), and finally reduce (deducere) it to single individuals. (…) If the gods care (consulunt) for these human beings who inhabit that sort of island which we call the round earth, they also care for those who occupy the parts of that island (parte eius insulae), Europe, Asia and Africa. Therefore they also cherish the parts of those parts (earum partes), for instance Rome, Athens, Sparta and Rhodes; and they cherish (diligunt) the individuals of those cities regarded separately from the whole body collectively (separatim ab uniuersis), for example, Curius, Fabricius and Coruncanius in the war with Pyrrhus (…) and at a later date Paulus, Gracchus and Cato, or in our fathers’ time Scipio and Laelius; and many remarkable men besides both our own country and Greece have given birth to, none of whom could conceivably have been

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  317 what he was save by god’s aid (iuuante deo). [b] It was this reason which drove the poets, and especially Homer, to attach to their chief heroes, Ulysses, Diomede, Agamemnon or Achilles, certain gods as the companions of their perils and adventures (certos deos discriminum et periculorum comites). (Cic. ND 2.164–166, trans. Rackham, adapted) The first part of Balbus’ argument [a] appears to rely on the little-by-little procedure of a sorites.63 In their usual forms, sorites are arguments that aim at showing the impossibility of distinguishing clearly between pairs of opposite attributes, like young and old, small and big and so forth. They typically proceed gradually or ‘little-by-little’, adding (or subtracting) elements one by one and apparently making it impossible to determine when exactly something small becomes big (or the reverse) or something young becomes old (or the reverse).64 Balbus’ argument aims at proving personal providence by narrowing down the entirety of the human race to the level of individual human beings, lessening it ‘gradually’ through ever-smaller parts. It cleverly puts the central function of sorites (i.e. the impossibility of setting a clear limit) at the service of this goal by narrowing the gap between the human race and human individuals through division into parts: if god cares for the whole human race inhabiting the whole world, then he must also care for human nations living in parts of the world (Africa, Asia and Europe), and so also for human cities and finally their individual citizens. Individual human beings, it is said, can be taken as distinct object of providence because they can be regarded ‘separately from’ (separatim ab) the wholes of which they are parts, namely cities. The text does not explain what such a separation amounts to exactly. The analogy with upper, more general levels of things like cities and continents suggests that the degree of separation individual human beings enjoy is one that parts qua parts enjoy in relation to the whole to which they belong. We know from other sources that the Stoics reflected on the nature of parthood and insisted that a part is neither the same as its whole nor other than it,65 ‘only not the same’ (μόνον οὐ ταὐτόν).66 They adopted a strict view on otherness, holding that ‘being other than something’ can be said only of ‘a thing that is spatially separated from another thing’ and ‘that cannot be thought of as even part of it’.67 Such a strict view on otherness is in line with the continuist physics of the Stoics, according to which the world is a fully unified body. In light of this, we can appreciate that the separability of individual human beings in regard to the whole they belong to does not make them other than it, and this absence of otherness, in turn, being shared by every type of parts of the world, is what ultimately allows divine providence to extend continuously up to the level of individuals. In that sense, personal providence may be seen as a natural and necessary development of general providence. If the explanation of the sorites just given is on the right track, then it is clear that such an argument will be found unconvincing by those philosophers

318  Chapter 10 who do not share the Stoic premises it is based upon. That is perhaps why Balbus is immediately trying to back his thesis up with the testimonies of the poets [b], which, he says, ‘attach to their chief heroes, Ulysses,68 Diomede, Agamemnon or Achilles, certain gods as the companions of their perils and adventures’.69 We have seen in Chapter 3 that the Stoics, and especially Chrysippus,70 liked to refer to and quote from poets in an attempt to show the naturalness and therefore veracity of some of their accounts, especially about the gods.71 Poets were, with other sorts of authorities, like philosophers, taken as ‘champions of the koinê ennoiai’,72 the common conceptions that served as criterion of truth for the Stoics. We may therefore take our passage as evidence that the Stoics intended to prove personal providence by way of common conceptions. 5.2.2 Divination and the apparent neglect of humans by the gods The second argument is based on the existence of the art of divination and the capacity given to human beings to interpret the signs sent to them by the gods73: T10-26 [a] Moreover the gods have often appeared to men in person (praesentiae), as in the cases which I have mentioned above, so testifying that they care both for communities and for individuals (et ciuitatibus et singulis hominibus consuli). And the same is proved by the signs of future occurrences (significationibus rerum futurarum) that are vouchsafed to human beings sometimes when they are asleep and sometimes when they are awake. Moreover, we receive a number of warnings by means of portents (ostentis) and of the entrails of victims (extis), and by many other things that long-continued usage has noted in such a manner as to create the art of divination (artem diuinationis). Therefore, no great man ever existed who did not enjoy some portion of divine inspiration (nemo igitur uir magnus sine aliquo adflatu diuino umquam fuit). [b] Nor yet is this argument to be disproved by pointing to cases where a man’s cornfields or vineyards have been damaged by a storm, or an accident has robbed him of something that is useful for his life (quid e uitae commodis), and inferring that the victim of one of these misfortunes is the object of god’s envy or neglect (aut inuisum deo aut neglectum a deo). The gods attend to great matters; they neglect small ones (magna di curant, parva neglegunt). [c] Now great men always prosper in all their affairs (magnis autem uiris prosperae semper omnes res), assuming that the teachers of our school and Socrates, the prince of philosophy, have satisfactorily discoursed upon the bounty and abundance that virtue bestows (de ubertatibus uirtutis et copiis). (Cic. ND 2.166–167, trans. Rackham, adapted) The first part of the argument [a] details the various ways gods can communicate with human beings: either by directly presenting themselves before

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  319 them, or by sending them signs of future events through dreams or when they are awake, or through what is known as technical divination such as haruspicy (the observation of the flight of birds). All this, Balbus says, accounts for the fact that the gods do care not only for communities but also for individual human beings, and that no ‘great man’ ever existed who did not enjoy some portion of divine inspiration. This, in turn, brings an objection [b] that Balbus wants to refute immediately. If the success of human beings depends on them being helped by the gods, how is it that the gods appear responsible for the misfortunes of human beings, such as the damaging of a cornfield or a vineyard by a storm, or a chance accident that robs us of something useful to life? When those events take place, should we not think that human beings are subject to god’s envy or neglect? Balbus’ reply keeps the idea of ‘neglect’ (neglectus), but changes its object: the gods do (sometimes) neglect, but what they neglect is not human beings, even taken individually, but negligible things or affairs. The examples provided in the objection show clearly what those things are: misfortunes, that is, non-preferable indifferents such as losing one’s crop or other things the possession of which are ‘useful to life’, but not necessary to a happy life rightly conceived. It is not that these things are in and of themselves negligible, though, since the Stoics allow that some value should be given to them and hold that they are ‘in accordance with nature’ and should be selected. Besides, we have seen (in Chapter 8, section 4.2) that the gods do care for them and Epictetus recalls Chrysippus’ words (T6-29) that ‘god himself has made me disposed to select’ preferred indifferents such as health and wealth, when they are available. So, even if preferred indifferents are not truly ‘good’, this is not a reason, in itself, to neglect them. If not prevented, we should select them. But sometimes it is just not possible for the gods to provide them, says Balbus, because ‘gods attend to great matters, neglect small ones’. It is important to note, at this point, that the kind of divine negligence that Balbus is ready to accept appears limited to the case of ‘great men’, that is, to good and virtuous people [c]. This is confirmed, I think, by a doctrine of Chrysippus himself which Balbus may actually have in mind. As can be seen from the following passage, Chrysippus also allowed for a kind of divine negligence (ἀμέλεια), and he appeared to have resorted to it in the specific case of good human beings that are subject to external misfortunes: T10-27 In the third book of On Substance, he mentions the fact that things of this kind do happen to honourable and good human beings (τοῖς καλοῖς καὶ ἀγαθοῖς) and then says: ‘[a] Is it because some things are neglected (πότερον ἀμελουμένων τινῶν), just as in larger households some husks get lost and a certain quantity of wheat also, though affairs as a whole are well managed (τῶν ὅλων εὖ οἰκονομουμένων)? Or [b] is it because evil spirits have been appointed over matters of the sort (ἢ διὰ τὸ καθίσταθαι ἐπὶ τῶν τοιούτων δαιμόνια φαῦλα) in which there really do

320  Chapter 10 occur instances of negligence that must in fact be reprehended (ἐν οἷς τῷ ὄντι γίνονται καὶ ἐγκλητέαι ἀμέλειαι;)?’. And [c] he says that necessity also is involved in large measure (φησὶ δὲ πολὺ καὶ τὸ τῆς ἀνάγκης μεμῖχθαι). (Plut. St. rep. 37.1051C = SVF 2.1178 and 54S2–3 L.-S., trans. Cherniss, adapted) The interpretation of this passage is made difficult by the fact that Chrysippus’ account is presented in an interrogative form. The most natural reading, though, is to take Chrysippus as proposing two possible explanations, only one of which [a] has his support: if there is negligence on the part of god, such a negligence must be either reprehensible [b] or not [a]. God would be guilty of neglecting deserving human beings if he were to send evil spirits as guardians of ‘large households’, that is, communities. Those guardians are evil precisely because they neglect some members of the communities that they are supposed to take care of. But there is an alternative way of explaining why some misfortunes sometimes befall good individuals: god is like a good manager of a large household, and his goal is to maintain the welfare of the household as a whole; because of that, he will sometimes neglect (lose track of) some husk and some wheat. In this case, the neglect is not reprehensible, because it is not intentional, and it is due to the special function of god which, as Balbus has it, must first of all ‘attend to great matters’. The ‘first of all’ is not specified in T10-26, but it must be added for the sake of clarification: it is not the case that god wilfully neglects smaller matters, only that his primary goal (cf. potissimum, T1-5) is to care for larger matters, that is, political communities (be they the world itself or human cities), something which sometimes entails some undesired consequences. The idea of undesired consequences is also at work in the Chrysippean account referred to by Plutarch in the last part [c] of the passage, namely, that ‘necessity also is involved in large measure’, which is reminiscent, I think, of the account Chrysippus developed in book IV of his P. There, as we have seen in Chapter 3 (see T3-21), he distinguishes between the primary intention (principale consilium) of god and what follows from it, namely, unwanted but necessary consequences74: while nature was bringing about many great works and perfecting their fitness and utility, many disadvantageous things simultaneously came about, cohering to the (good) things she was creating. These were created in accordance with nature, but through certain necessary consequences (per sequellas quasdam necessarias), which he calls κατὰ παρακολούθησιν. This, Chrysippus argues, makes god responsible for the existence of evils and misfortunes in the world, but he should nevertheless not be blamed for them, because they were not part of his initial and principal intention.

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  321 Finally, even if god is sometimes neglectful, for the reason just given, the misfortunes that follow from it should not in any way be taken as impediments to the happiness of virtuous human beings, for, says Balbus, ‘great men always prosper in all their affairs’. He refers to the teaching of the Stoics and Socrates who have ‘discoursed upon the bounty and abundance that virtue bestows’. Although the Stoic sage, like any other human beings, will select preferred indifferents, he will not be harmed if they are not (or not anymore) available, for virtue itself is the only truly advantageous thing there is (see supra T10-9b) and its possession necessarily brings ‘bounty and abundance’. Balbus can therefore finally rest his case: the gods do care for individual human beings as that is shown by the assistance (through inspiration and divination) they provide to them; the apparent misfortunes that good people sometimes have to endure is no objection to that since those misfortunes are negligible and do not in any way harm people like Socrates, who succeed in all their affairs, thanks to virtue. 5.3 The reception of the Stoic defence of personal providence The Stoic doctrine of personal providence has often been misunderstood and, as a consequence, either criticized or even more or less denied by modern commentators (see below). But the misunderstanding started very early as can be seen from Cotta’s sceptic reply given at the end of Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods: T10-28 [a] [You said that] it (i.e divine providence) does not care for individual human beings (Non curat singulos homines).’ This is no wonder; no more does it care for cities. Not for these? Not for tribes or nations either. And if it shall appear that it despises even nations, what wonder is it that it has scorned the entire human race? [b] But how can you both maintain that the gods do not pay attention to everything (Sed quo modo idem dicitis non omnia deos persequi) and also believe that dreams are distributed and doled out to human beings by the immortal gods (idem uoltis a diis inmortalibus hominibus dispertiri ac diuidi somnia)? I argue this with you because the belief in the truth of dreams is a tenet of your school. And do you also say that it is proper for human beings to take vows (uota) upon themselves? Well, but vows are made by individuals; therefore, the divine mind gives a hearing even to the concerns of individuals (audit igitur mens diuina etiam de singulis); do you see therefore that it is not so engrossed in business as you thought? (Cic. ND 3.93 = SVF 2.1197, trans. Rackham, adapted) The whole passage is extremely perplexing since it assumes that Balbus claimed that divine providence ‘does not care for individual human beings’, while he actually stated precisely the opposite (T10-24). Was Cotta

322  Chapter 10 not paying attention? On the one hand, it seems he was paying attention, since he elaborates [a] a sorites-based counter-argument that looks like a direct reply to Balbus’ own argument in T10-25. On the other hand, he explains his attack [b] by referring to a particular doctrine (on the truth of dreams) usually held by the Stoics, apparently unaware75 of the fact that Balbus himself referred to that doctrine as well in his defence of providence (T10-26). As a consequence, he concludes that the Stoic doctrine is incoherent: it claims that ‘the gods do not pay attention to everything’ and at the same time allows for individual human beings to take vows and for gods to send them dreams. So, from the start, there is a misrepresentation of the Stoic stance on personal providence. Even the expression used by Cotta, that ‘the gods do not pay attention to everything (non omnia deos persequi)’, is confusing, since it fails to precisely distinguish between two Stoic doctrines: on the one hand, that divine providence extends to ‘individuals (singulis)’ (T10-24); on the other, that the gods do not necessarily care for everything, attending as they do to great matters (magna), while (sometimes) neglecting small ones (parua). Although Balbus is using the latter in order to defend the former (T10-26 [b]), at least two influential commentators claimed that these two doctrines are in fact incompatible. Arthur Stanley Pease, in his masterly commentary on Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods,76 notes that the doctrines in question are ‘in logical contradiction’, without, however, further elaborating. Presumably, it is because he tends to equate the level of ‘individual human beings’ with that of ‘small matters’.77 But that cannot be a correct reading of the Stoic account, and we have already seen (T10-27) that what prompted the Stoics to accept the view of divine negligence is the specific case of good and virtuous human beings having to endure various types of external misfortunes and thus apparently being unjustly mistreated by the gods. However, as explained in T10-26 [c], from the point of view of those virtuous people themselves, misfortunes are indeed negligible compared to ‘the bounty and abundance that virtue bestows’, which makes understandable why some form of neglect on the parts of the gods is acceptable to the Stoics. The erroneous equation between individual human beings and ‘small matters’ has also prompted another reaction among commentators, that of denying as much as possible the existence of a Stoic doctrine of personal providence. This is the interpretation, in particular, of Paul Veyne. Relying on several texts from Seneca and a peculiar interpretation of Stoic theology, he states that Stoic providence is in no way interested in the particulars of individuals: ‘Stoic providence (…) assured the good condition of the cosmos and humanity in a global sense, but not the individual lot of each person’.78 This, of course, is in complete contradiction with what Cicero’s Balbus and Epictetus both claim. Veyne’s rather selective reading of the Stoic sources79 has its roots in the personal conviction that a rational theology80 like the one defended by the Stoics is incompatible with what he sees as the naïve religious view that gods can intervene in the personal life of human beings

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence  323 and that humans can and should pray for the gods’ favours. But our sources show that the Stoics did not reject these views, only that they wanted to reform them. Seneca, for instance, does not ask Lucilius to stop praying to the gods, but only to pray to them the right way,81 namely, by asking for help with regard things (moral improvement above all) that depend on us. And we have seen that Epictetus presents the gods as having ‘stationed by each man’s side as a tutor his δαίμων’ (T9-31), a tutor that never sleeps and is constantly watching over a person’s life.82 This δαίμων, it turns out, is actually the very soul or ἡγεμονικόν of each human being rather than a separate entity (see supra Chapter 9, section 4.2). Veyne puts forward some texts from Seneca that he thinks vindicate his interpretation, and it can be useful to have a look at two of them here. The first one is a passage from Seneca’s Letter 95, which Veyne takes as a reluctant concession to popular religion on the part of Seneca: T10-29 The first form of worship of the gods is to believe in them, then to credit them with their own grandeur, to credit them with the loving-kindness without which there is no grandeur; to know that it is they who govern the world, who moderate the universe by their power, who exercise guardianship over the human race, while sometimes being attentive to individuals (qui humani generis tutelam gerunt interdum curiosi singulorum). (Sen. Ep. 95.50, trans. Fantham, adapted) I have changed Elaine Fantham’s translation so that it fits Veyne’s own reading. Veyne thinks that one should not follow Madvig’s correction of the text (replacing ‘curiosi’ by ‘incuriosi’) since the text found in the manuscript, in particular the word ‘interdum’ (which Veyne interprets as meaning ‘sometimes’), is backed by a fragment found in Plutarch who attributes to Chrysippus the view that ‘inconvenient things do sometimes (ποτέ) happen to the virtuous’.83 Veyne’s argument is unconvincing. First of all, to say that the gods ‘sometimes’ take care of human beings and to say that they ‘sometimes’ neglect virtuous people are clearly two different things. While we have clear evidence that Chrysippus accepted the latter, we have none that he would have allowed the former. Besides, in a remarkable study on the meaning of ‘interdum’,84 François Préchat has convincingly demonstrated that ‘sometimes’ or ‘at times’ is not the only possible meaning of ‘interdum’, a word which still can mean ‘at the same time’ or ‘while’ in Seneca, which was its chief sense in earlier Latin writers. Préchat himself believes that it is precisely this particular sense that the word has in T10-29.85 If that is the case, then the above translation should be amended in the following way: ‘the first form of worship of the gods is… to know that it is they… who exercise guardianship over the human race, while at the same time being attentive to individuals’. Such a reading of the text has the merit to be backed by the

324  Chapter 10 Stoic account found in Balbus’ presentation and in Epictetus’ teaching, and it should therefore be preferred. Another passage put forward by Veyne is from Seneca’s On Providence: T10-30 But as the discussion proceeds, I shall show how true evils are not those which appear to be so: I now make this point, that the things you call hardships, that you call adversities and detestable, actually are of benefit, first to the very persons they happen to, and secondly to the whole (pro uniuersis), which matters more to the gods than individuals do (quorum maior diis cura quam singulorum est); I also say that good people are willing that such things should happen to them, and that, if they are unwilling, misfortune is what they deserve. (Sen. Prov. 3.1, trans. Davie, adapted) Veyne thinks that this text confirms his own general interpretation that the Stoic god has no interest in the personal life of individual human beings. But the text should certainly not be read that way. Seneca is actually replying to a common objection made against divine providence, namely, the existence of good and virtuous people’s misfortunes. It is an objection that Balbus (T10-26), following Chrysippus (T10-27), already addressed, as we have seen, replying that those misfortunes are negligible to the virtuous people themselves (who have all they need to lead a happy life, thanks to virtue) and that, if those misfortunes sometimes happen, it is because the gods ‘attend to great matters, neglect small ones’. We have insisted that this account is used by the Stoic to defend personal providence,86 and the same is also clearly true of Seneca in T10-30: if misfortunes happen to people who react adversely to them (by not willing that these things should happen, that is, by complaining against them), then these people are not really good and they deserve what they get; if they are indeed good people, then what happens to them is negligible and this, in turn, explains why it happened in the first place, since the gods have greater concern ‘for the whole (pro uniuersis)’ than for ‘individuals (singulorum)’. Here, we should be careful not to take the wording used by Seneca as implying that individual human beings are, in themselves, negligible to god: again, what Seneca has in mind, and the context leaves no doubt about that, are the misfortunes happening to (allegedly virtuous) individuals rather than the individuals themselves; besides, it is an established Stoic doctrine, also advocated by Balbus (T10-1), that what the gods ‘chiefly care for’ is what is universal, that is, the world as a whole, not its parts, even when these parts are human beings. Contrary to what Veyne believes, there is nothing in this that contradicts the views put forward by Balbus or Epictetus in favour of the existence of personal providence, and we should therefore conclude that personal providence was indeed part of the Stoic doctrine of providence and, besides, that there is no evidence that it faced challenges from within the Stoic school itself, at any rate certainly not from Seneca.

From cosmic oikeiôsis to personal providence 325

Notes 1 It is mentioned in T1-15 [d] but, as explained in Chapter 1, that passage likely echoes Plato’s views, not the Stoics’. 2 The same idea is found in Cic. ND 2.155. 3 Balbus’ initial account in ND 2.133 is not crystal-clear as it simply seems to jump from the idea that the world has been made for the sake of gods and humans to that of the world being for the (sole) sake of humans. That is that crucial passage that T10-3 helps understand. 4 Balbus’ account is divided in three parts: in the first (ND 2.133–153), he explains that human nature is a proof of the existence of divine care; in the second (ND 2.154–163), that external goods are proof of a special divine concern for human beings; in the third (ND 2.164–167), he defends the view of the existence of personal providence (on which, see infra). 5 Commentators have identified different possible targets, like the Platonist Atticus or the Stoic Posidonius. References are given in Sharples 1994: 120. Sharples himself recalls that in his On Providence (see T1–15), Alexander ‘attributes the theory of primary divine concern for sublunary individuals to Plato, in the opinion of some, and to the Stoics’. 6 The use of the word προηγουμένως may be an indication of the Chrysippean origin of the thesis, for it appears also in Chrysippus’ account of the unity of the virtues (Stob. Ecl. 2.63.6–24 = SVF 3.280 and 61D L.-S.). In line with Zeno and Cleanthes, Chrysippus held that virtues are inseparable and that it is impossible to have one without also having the others. But he had a peculiar way of explaining it, taking virtues to be sciences and expertises that share their theorems. In order to explain both their distinctness and their inseparability, he said that each virtue has two domains: one with which it is ‘principally’ (προηγουμένως) concerned and which corresponds to its proper specific domain (for instance, moderation is principally about keeping one’s impulses healthy); and, ‘from a secondary perspective’ (κατὰ τὸν δεύτερον λόγον), one that encompasses the specific domains of all the other virtues. Following this line of thought, we might say that exactly as one cannot act courageously without being also moderate, just and wise, god cannot take care of the world without also taking care of the parts and living species of the world. Though the latter is only a secondary concern, god must also assume it if he wants his primary goal to be fulfilled. 7 Plat. Rep. 1.342e, trans. Griffith. 8 In this case, that means that it is the good of the ruler. But a ruler who would himself obey justice would similarly be harmed by it according to Thrasymachus (1.343e): Suppose each of them holds some public office. The outcome for the just person, even if he suffers no other loss, is that his own financial position deteriorates, since he cannot attend to it, while the fact that he is a just person stops him getting anything from public funds. On top of this, he becomes very unpopular with his friends and acquaintances when he refuses to act unjustly in order to do them a favour’. (Trans. Griffith) 9 By Cleanthes in his On Pleasure book II: see Clem. Strom. 2.22.131.3 = SVF 1.558. 10 D.L. 7.101 = SVF 3.30: μόνον τὸ καλὸν ἀγαθὸν εἶναι. See SVF 3.29–45. 11 Pl. Euthd. 281b: ‘By Zeus, I said, what advantage (ὄφελός τι) can we get from all the other possessions without having understanding and wisdom (ἄνευ φρονήσεως καὶ σοφίας)?’. 12 Epict. D. 2.5.7.

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13 On this passage, see the analysis by Long 2002: 198–200. 14 Nothing in the argument, however, presents the sentient parts of the world as truly integrated. It is simply a matter of observation, and the descriptive nature of the argument may prove too superficial for it to being fully convincing. For only integrated and unified wholes can be recognized as sentient based on their possession of sentient parts. The Stoics themselves would not describe an army as sentient even if its parts (i.e. the soldiers) are so. See S.E. M 9.80 = SVF 2.1013: [I]n an army, for example, when everyone has been wiped out, the survivor does not appear to suffer anything by way of influence; but in the case of unified bodies there is a sympathy – if a finger is cut, the whole body is affected along with it. (Trans. Bett, adapted)

15 16 17 18

19

20 21 22

23

According to the Stoics, an army is not a unified being, but falls into the category of what they call ‘things that exist by separation’ (see Simp. In Cat. 214.28 = SVF 2.391 and 28M3 L.-S.). In Cic. ND 2.47, Balbus endorses Plato’s argument for the sphericity of the world, an argument which, in Tim. 33b–34b, is in part dependent on the recognition of the absence of external cosmic sense organs. My attention has been drawn to the peculiarities of this text thanks to Bénatouïl 2009a: 35. My interpretation owes much to it. See Simp. In Cat. 214.28 = SVF 2.391 and 28M3 L.-S. See Iamblichus, On the Soul apud Stob. Ecl. 1.368.12–20 = 53K L.-S. and SVF 2.826: the Stoics say that ‘a sequence of different breaths extends from the commanding-faculty, some to the eyes, others to the ears and others to other sense-organs’. The Stoics (or at least some of them) held the soul to have two meanings: ‘[T] hat which sustains the whole compound, and in particular, the commandingfaculty’ (S.E. M 7.234 = 53F L.-S.). It is in the first of these two senses (i.e. as a sustaining power) that the soul is said to be in bones and sinew. See Bénatouïl 2009a: 35. Hes. WD 252–253. In the argument for the existence of god that is given just before our passage (M 9.78–85), we find a discussion of the various types of unification that were admitted by the Stoics, one of whom (tenor or simple ἕξις) is also mentioned in T10-13. The reference to the Dioskuri in the text is not to the constellation named after Castor and Pollux, but to good spirits that are active in the world and care especially for sailors. The Dioskuri actually refers to a weather phenomenon today called St. Elmo’s Fire and which manifests itself especially at sea, on ships, in the form of fires that appear at the top of pointed structures like masts. Pliny the Elder reports having seen them at land and on sea: I have seen a radiance of star-like appearance ( fulgorem effigie) clinging to the javelins of soldiers on sentry duty at night in front of the rampart; and on a voyage stars alight on the yards and other parts of the ship, with a sound resembling a voice, hopping from perch to perch in the manner of birds (ut uolucres). (Pliny Nat. 2.101, trans. Rackham)

24 The verb is reminiscent of the way the Stoics present human reason as a ‘detached fragment’ (ἀπόσπασμα) of god. See T3-3 [b] and T9-32. 25 On this text, see especially Bénatouïl 2005b: 537–556. 26 Bénatouïl 2005b: 554.

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27 S.E. M 9.119 and Cic. ND 2.29 = 47C5 L.-S. On these texts, see Bénatouïl 2005b: 547–548. 28 ‘With trees and plants, the ruling part is believed to be located in the roots’ (Cic. ND 2.29 = 47C4 L.-S., trans. Rackham). 29 On Stoic impulse, see Gourinat 2017: 103–129. 30 See Stob. Ecl. 2.86.17–87.6 = SVF 3.169 and 53Q L.-S. 31 Stob. Ecl. 2.88.2–6 = SVF 3.171 and 33I L.-S. 32 See Clem. Strom. 8.9.26.3 = 55C L.-S. 33 See S.E. M 9.211 = SVF 2.34 and 55B L.-S. 34 Gourinat 2017: 108. See Clem. Strom. 8.9.26.3 = 55C L.-S.: ‘Hence becoming, and being cut – that of which the cause is a cause – since they are activities (ἐνέργειαί), are incorporeal’, trans. Long and Sedley. 35 See Stob. Ecl. 2.87.4–5 = SVF 3.169 and 53Q L.-S.: φορὰν διανοίας ἐπί τι τῶν ἐν τῷ πράττειν. 36 See Clem. Strom. 8.9.33.1 = SVF 2.351 and 55I1-2 L.-S. See also infra T10-19. 37 That the Stoics are happy to extend responsibility to all animals is confirmed by Alex. Fat. 182.12–13; 183.21–23 = SVF 2.981, and 205.1–16 = SVF 2.1001. 38 We might think that, in the case of a human being, what is responsible for his actions is rather his assenting to the impulse rather than the impulse as such. However, according to Stobaeus (Ecl. 2.88.1 = SVF 3.171 and 33I1 L.-S.), ‘all impulses are assents’, presumably because human impulses will not be allowed to cause their effects without the soul’s assent, and that there are therefore no impulses that do not carry with them the soul’s approval. On impulses being assents, see Goulet-Cazé 2011: 96–121. 39 Also to be found in S.E. M 9.75–77 = SVF 2.311 and 44C L.-S. 40 See for instance Cic. ND 2.28 = 47C4 L.-S. 41 See Stob. Ecl. 1.138.14–139.4 = SVF 1.89, SVF 2.336, and 55A L.-S. 42 Cic. Fat. 41 = SVF 2.974 and 62C L.-S.: Chrisippus… causarum genera distinguit. 43 Cic. Fat. 42 = SVF 2.974 and 62C L.-S. 44 On ancient atheism, see especially Sedley 2013, Gourinat 2018 (and the other articles published in it) and Gourinat 2019. 45 A well-known Epicurean doctrine; see supra T3-16, and Chapter 5, section 4, for Posidonius’ attack against the Epicureans. 46 D.L. 5.32. See also T1-8. 47 According to Dobbin 2008: 138, ‘this is the upshot of Aristotle’s statement about the Prime Mover (Met. 12.6–10), though elsewhere he seems to have accepted the popular view that the gods attend to human affairs (EN 1179a24-5)’. See also Sharples 2001: 22–30, and Boys-Stones 2018b: 325–326. 48 For a summary of the different interpretations proposed by commentators, see Dobbin 2008: 137–139 and Sharples 2003: 113–116. 49 Eus. PE 15.5.8 = Atticus fr. 3, 54 des Places. On which, see Boys-Stones 2018b: 323–325. 50 In the threefold providence account distinctive of Platonism of this period, the third, lower level, includes actions by daemons, which, according to Apuleius, ‘[Plato] considers to be servants of the gods and interpreters for human beings, if they require anything from the gods’ (Ap. De Platone 1.12, trans. Sharples 2003, adapted). 51 The phrase ‘I cannot make a move without your noticing’ is from the Il. 10.279– 280, where Odysseus addresses Athena. For the importance of providence in Homer, see now Ahrensdorf 2014. 52 See Long 2013 and, in it, especially Schofield 2013. 53 In antiquity, however, their account of providence has sometimes been confused with Plato’s. See Chapter 1, section 4.

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54 We have seen in Chapter 4 (T4-9) that, even under Panaetius, who was an admirer of Plato, the Stoic school continued to challenge the Academy about its account of Socrates’ thought and legacy. 55 See in particular Sedley 2005. 56 See S.E. M 9.78–79 = SVF 2.1013. 57 Chrysippus holds that (…) the whole of substance is unified (ἡνῶσθαι μὲν ὑποτίθεται τὴν σύμπασαν οὐσίαν) because it is totally pervaded by a pneuma (πνεύματός τινος) through which the whole is held together, is stable, and is sympathetic with itself (ὑφ’ οὗ συνέχεταί τε καὶ συμμένει καὶ σύμπαθές ἐστιν αὑτῷ τὸ πᾶν). (Alex. Mixt. 216.14–17 = SVF 2.473 and 48C1 L.-S., trans. Todd)

58

59 60

61 62

63 64

On the doctrine of sympathy in the early Stoa, see Lapidge 1978: 161–202, Laurand 2005 and Brouwer 2015. Strabo names Posidonius as an authority on tides (see F214–215 E.-K.), which he explains in terms of συμπάθεια: ‘Posidonius says that the movement of the ocean undergoes a cycle of a type like heavenly body, exhibiting diurnal, monthly and annual movement in sympathy (συμπαθῶς) with the moon’ (Strab. Geo. 3.5.8, p. 236, 11 Meineke = Posidonius F217 E.-K., trans. Kidd, adapted). See also supra T5-7. On the use of this word in connection with unification, see Plut. St. rep. 44.1055B = SVF 2.550, and Simp. In Cat. 214.36–37 = SVF 2.391 and 28M5 L.-S. The doctrine stems, in all likelihood, from an inspiring passage of Xenophon’s Memoirs of Socrates (1.4.8) where Socrates argues that since human beings possess in them portions of each of the basic elements of the world (such as earth, water and air), then one should also reasonably think that intelligence (φρόνησις), which they also happen to possess, initially came to them from the cosmos, along with the other elements. From there, Socrates (and so also the Stoics: D.L. 7.143 = SVF 2.633) concluded that the world is intelligent and a god. The argument was taken up by Plato in the Philebus (29a-30d), and we have evidence that the Stoics were very much impressed by it: see D.L. 7.2–3 = SVF 1.1, Cic. ND 2.18 and S.E. M 9.95 = SVF 2.1015. On this, see Sedley 2005: 473–477, and Meijer 2007: 12–23. On god’s supervision of individual human beings, see Algra 2007: 42–44. Epictetus is not the only Stoic to resort to cosmic οἰκείωσις in order to explain why god necessarily takes care of individual human beings. In his On Clemency, Seneca presents Nero as the soul of the empire and the other human beings as Nero’s own limbs which Nero must attend to: see T6-25, with commentary. It is interpreted thus by Mayor and Swainson 1880–1885: 289 and by Pease 1955– 1958: 967. Although Chrysippus looked at sorites as logical fallacies (Cic. Luc. 93 = 37H3 L.-S.; for Chrysippus’ attempt to defeat sorites, see S.E. M 7.416 = SVF 2.276, 37F L.-S. and FDS 1242, and Chrysippus, Logical Questions 3.9.7–12 = SVF 2.298a, 37G L.-S. and FDS 698), the Stoics are sometimes happy also to resort to them: see Alex. Fat. 207.5–21 = SVF 2.1003 and 62J L.-S., where one finds sorites-like argument for the compatibility of fate and moral responsibility, and Plut. Com. not. 45.1084D = SVF 2.665 and 51G L.-S., for nights, days, hours, etc., being bodies. It seems that the Stoics would be more ready to reject the validity of sorites when used as a means for questioning (presumably in a dialectical context): see Cic. Luc. 92 = 37H1 L.-S. and FDS 1243 where sorites are regarded by the Stoics as ‘a fallacious kind of questioning’ (uitiosum interrogandi genus). Sorites have been used by the sceptic Academics against the Stoics themselves: see infra T10-28 where Cotta seems to try to turn the argument of T10-25 back on the Stoics; see also Cic. Luc. 92 = 37H1 L.-S. and FDS 1243, where sorites

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65

66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74

75 76 77

78 79 80 81 82

83 84 85 86

329

are used as a weapon to refute the claim made by the Stoics of the existence of a criterion of truth. We find a similar affirmation in S.E. M 9.336 = SVF 2.524, and M 11.22–26 = SVF 3.75 and 60G L.-S., and in Sen. Ep. 113.4–5. Barnes 1988: 225–294 recalls that the assertion according to which a part is neither identical to its whole nor different from it has been previously made by Plato himself in Parm. 142b4–6. He mentions also S.E. M 9.335–337 where the same Stoic doctrine is reported as part of a ‘little dispute’ concerning the notion of parthood. On the interpretation of the Stoic whole-part relation, see also Lewis 1995: 89–108. Stob. Ecl. 1.179.2 = Posidonius F96 E.-K. and 28D9 L.-S. Ibidem. It is probably not a coincidence that the first hero named here is the same as the one singled out by Epictetus in his own presentation of personal providence (T10-21 [c]). See T3-6 for the Stoic practice of calling upon the authority of the poets for backing up Stoic doctrines on god. On this, see Obbink 1992: 216–223. Obbink 1992: 222. Obbink 1992: 216. For the Stoic doctrine of divination as a proof of providence, see Chapter 1, section 3. For Panaetius’ doubts, see Chapter 4, section 3. See also Phil. Prov. 2.99–102, who repeatedly makes use of the notion of ‘necessary consequences’ (ἐπακολουθήματα) to account for the existence of evils in the world. The passage is clearly influenced by Chrysippus, although we should be cautious not to take it as necessarily fully in accordance with Stoicism. The related expression κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν is used by Marcus Aurelius in a similar fashion: see T8-1 and T8-27a. As already noticed in Mayor and Swainson 1880–1885: vol. 3, 193. Pease 1955–1958: 967. Sharples 2003: 111, on the other hand, points out that ‘disregard of trivial events is not necessarily the same as disregard of the fortunes of individuals’ and that Balbus wants to distinguish between ‘which events that happen to individual are trivials and which events that also happen to individuals are not’. Veyne 2003: 148. In Veyne 1990: 561, he enjoins his reader to ‘disregard Cicero and his patriotic examples (De natura deorum, II, 167)’. From Veyne 2003: 148 and the comparison with Voltaire that is being made there, it appears that the sort of rationality Veyne sees in Stoicism is one close to the French Enlightenment. Sen. Ep. 10.4. Veyne 1990: 562, n. 7 dismisses Epictetus’ views as those of a ‘credulous’ Stoic. But other evidence (see in particular D.L. 7.151 = SVF 2.1102, Sen. Ep. 110.1, and Algra 2003: 171–172) show that the first Stoics also assigned a guardian spirit to individual human beings. Plut. St. rep. 35.1050E = SVF 2.1176. Préchat 1939. Préchat 1939: 325. A point rightly made by Sharples 1983: 150.

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Glossary of Greek terms

(References, when available, are limited to the numbered excerpts in the book.) αἴσθησις (aisthêsis) ἀγαθόν, τό (agathon, to)

sense-perception the good

ἀγέννεια (agenneia) ἄδεια (adeia) ἀδιάφορον, τό (adiaphoron, to) αἰσθητικῶς (aisthêtikôs) αἰτία (aitia) αἴτιον (aition) ἀκολουθεῖν (akolouthein) ἀκολουθία (akolouthia)

baseness immunity what is indifferent

ἀκόλουθον (akolouthon) ἀλλότρια (allotria) ἀλλότριον ἀγαθόν, τό (allotrion agathon, to) ἀλλότριος (allotrios) ἁμαρτάνειν (hamartanein) ἁμάρτημα (hamartêma) ἀμέλεια (ameleia) ἀναγκαῖα, τά (anankaia, ta) ἀναγκαῖον (anankaion) ἀναίτιος (anaitios) ἀνεικαιότης (aneikaiotês) ἀνεύθυνος (aneuthunos) ἀνυπεύθυνος (anupeuthunos) ἀνυπόστατος (anupostatos) ἄξια (axia) ἀξίωμα (axiôma) ἀπάθεια (apatheia) ἀπαράβατος (aparabatos) ἀποπροηγμένον (apoproêgmenon)

T5-2, 5-3, 9-15, 10-16a T3-24, 5-21, 10-5, 10-6, 10-8, 10-9a T7-2, 7-3 T5-21 T8-13, 8-21, 10-9a, 10-9b

perceptibly cause, responsibility cause to follow, come after consequence, (logical) implication consequent things that are alien to us (to one’s nature) someone else’s good

T10-13 T3-25, 8-17b, 8-28, 10-15 T5-1b, 5-9, 10-20 T3-20 T5-12, 8-20

alien to sin, make mistake sin, moral mistake negligence the basic needs, the essential matters necessity not responsable or guilty uncarelessness unaccountable answerable to no one, unaccountable un-subsistent value proposition the state of being free from passions inviolable dispreferred

T1-15 T7-31, 8-6

T7-3 T8-1 T10-6

T10-27 T5-22, 7-11, 7-13 T8-8, 8-38 T6-7 T5-20 T5-9b-c T4-6b T7-24, 7-25, 8-23

T3-26

344  Glossary of Greek terms ἀπόσπασμα (apospasma) ἀποτελεῖν (apotelein) ἀποτέλεσμα (apotelesma) ἀπροαίρετα, τά (aprohaireta, ta) ἀπροπτωσία (aproptôsia) ἀρχαί (archai) ἀσέβεια (asebeia) ἄσκησις (askêsis) αὐγή (augê) αὐτεξούσιον (autexousion) αὐτοκίνητος (autokinêtos) ἀφορμαί (aphormai) ἀφορμή (aphormê) ἄφρων (aphrôn) βασίλεια (basileia) βούλησις (boulêsis) γενναιότης (gennaiotês) δαίμων (daimôn) δεσμός (desmos) διάκονος (diakonos) διακόσμησις (diakosmêsis) διάρθρωσις (diarthrosis) διαστρέφειν (diastrephein) διαστροφή (diastrophê) διδασκαλία (didaskalia) διήκειν (diêkein) διόρθωσις (diorthôsis) διορθωτὴς τῶν ἐλευθέρων πόλεων (diorthôtês tôn eleutherôn poleôn) δόγμα (dogma) δοκιμάζειν (dokimazein) δόξα (doxa) δυσαρέστησις (dusarestêsis) δῶρον (dôron) εἰκός (eikos) εἱμαρμένη (heimarmenê) ἐκ διεστώτων (ek diestôtôn) ἐκ συναπτομένων (ek sunaptomenôn) ἔκκλισις (ekklisis) ἐκπύρωσις (ekpurôsis)

detached fragment bring to an end, complete effect, result what is not within the control or jurisdiction of the faculty of choice non-precipitancy principles impiety exercise flash of light sovereign power; free will self-moving starting points, resources repulsion fool kingship wishing (one of the three cardinal Stoic good emotions) high birth; nobility of mind god, guardian spirit (the god within) link servant world-order articulation to pervert perversion instruction to extend through correction (of perverted judgements) corrector of the free cities

T3-3, 9-32, 10-23 T10-19

belief, judgement, conviction, doctrine to test, assess, evaluate opinion displeasure blessing plausible fate (made) of things standing apart (made) of things fastened together avoidance conflagration

T1-15, 7-19, 7-23, 7-32, 8-4, 8-37 T7-24

T10-20 T7-27, 7-28

T6-7, 8-20 T1-4 T7-3 Τ4-16, 4-17 T5-21, 8-12 T10-15 T2-19, 2-22, 4-12, 7-21 T5-21 T5-9c, 5-19b, 8-39

T7-17 T5-1b, 9-30, 9-31, 10-14

T3-7 T2-22, 7-21, 8-10 T8-28 T1-6, 1-16

T8-38, 9-8 T8-15 T6-7 T1-1, 3-26, 8-12

T4-13b

Glossary of Greek terms  345 ἐλεός (eleos) ἐλευθερία (eleutheria) ἐλεύθερος (eleutheros) ἔννοια (ennoia) ἕξις (hexis) ἐξουσία (exousia) ἐπακολουθεῖν (epakolouthein) ἐπακολουθήματα (epakolouthêmata) ἐπιγεννήματα (epigennêmata) ἐπιγινόμενα (epiginomena) ἐπίσης (episês) ἐπιστήμη (epistêmê) ἐπίτροπος (epitropos) ἔργα ψυχῆς, τά (ta erga psuchês) ἑτέρως (heterôs) εὖ βουλεύεσθαι (eu bouleuesthai) εὖ φρονεῖν (eu phronein) εὐαρεστεῖν (euarestein) εὐαρεστεῖσθαι (euaresteisthai) εὐδαιμονία (eudaimonia) εὐεμπτωσία (euemptôsia) εὐλάβεια (eulabeia)

εὐλογιστεῖν (eulogistein) εὐμένεια (eumeneia) εὐμενής (eumenês) εὔνοια (eunoia) εὐπάθεια (eupatheia) εὐπατρίδης (eupatridês) εὔροια βίου (eurhoia biou) εὐχάριστος (eucharistos) ἐφ’ ἡμῖν, τό (eph’ hêmin, to) ἐφαρμόζειν (epharmozein) ἔχειν (ekhein) ζῷον (zôion)

pity freedom free (common) conception cohesion, tenor right, licence to follow close upon necessary consequences

T8-39 T5-19b-c T7-13, 7-14 T10-13, 10-15, 10-19 T5-19c T3-20, 3-26

by-products by-products equally disposed (towards indifferents) knowledge, science tutor the psychic actions

T8-1 T8-2 T8-22, 8-11

alien (opp. of οἰκείως) deliberating rightly

T10-16a

thinking rightly to be pleasing to be pleased with something happiness (being led by a good daimôn) proneness to disease vigilance, watchfulness (one of the three cardinal Stoic good emotions) to reason well, make a rational choice kindness kindly good disposition towards other people good emotion patrician smooth flow of life grateful what is in our power to apply, to fit something on to something to maintain, preserve living being

ἡγεμονικόν, τό (hêgemonikon, the ruling part, to) commanding faculty (of the soul) ἡνωμένα, τά (hênômena, ta) things that are maintained by a unifying cause θεατής (theatês) spectator

T4-16, 6-7 T9-31

T9-8 T9-13 T7-11

T7-26 T8-32b, 8-36 T8-6

T8-35 T7-1, 7-7 T7-33 T7-13 T10-19 T3-3, 3-4, 3-5, 3-12, 10-10 T2-4, 3-4, 3-12, 8-1, 8-13

T7-4

346  Glossary of Greek terms θέσις (thesis) θεωρεῖν (theôrein) θεωρήματα (theôrêmata) θεωρία (theôria) ἴδιον ἀγαθόν, τό (idion agathon, to) ἴδιον συμφέρον, τό (idion sumpheron, to) ἰδίως ποιός (idiôs poios) ἰσηγορία (isêgoria) ἰσονομία (isonomia) ἰσότης (isotês) καθῆκον (kathêkon) καθορᾶν (kathoran) καλόν, τό (kalon, to) κατ’ ἀξίαν (kat’ axian) κατ’ ἐπακολούθησιν (kat’ epakolouthêsin) κατὰ παρακολούθησιν (kata parakolouthêsin) κατὰ ταὐτὰ καὶ ὡσαύτως (kata tauta kai hôsautôs) κατὰ τὸν δεύτερον λόγον (kata ton deuteron logon) κατὰ φύσιν (kata phusin) κατάληψις (katalêpsis) κατασκευή (kataskeuê) κατηγορήματα (katêgorêmata) κατόρθωμα (katorthôma) κίνησις (kinêsis) κόσμος (kosmos)

the giving of names to objects (according to Epicurus) to contemplate theoretical matters contemplation one’s own good one’s own personal advantage peculiarly qualified individual equal right of speech equality of rights, equal participation in the exercise of power equality appropriate action, duty, proper function to look at things from a higher perspective the morally good or honourable according to value or merit (happening) as a necessary consequence through (necessary) consequences in the same unchanging way from a secondary perspective (cf. προηγουμένως) in accordance with nature cognition, perception, comprehension constitution predicates right action movement world, order

κρίσις (krisis) λογισμός (logismos) λόγος (logos)

(faculty of) judgement reasoning reason

μέρος (meros)

part, portion

T5-1a T7-6 T10-10 T3-7 T8-39 T8-39 T8-39 T7, 6-30 T7-25 T8-1, 10-8, 10-10 T8-29a, 8-30a T8-1, 8-2, 8-27a T3-21 T1-1

T3-5, 6-29, 7-31, 8-23, 8-28 T4-17, 5-3 T7-5, 8-20, 8-27b

T10-16a T1-8, 3-3, 3-4, 3-7, 3-9, 3-10, 3-11, 3-12, 3-25, 4-3a-b, 5-1b, 5-9, 7-1, 7-8, 8-6, 8-9, 10-19 T3-5, 8-18b, 8-21 T2-2, 3-25, 5-3, 5-4, 6-7, 8-16, 9-13

Glossary of Greek terms  347 μέσα, τά (mesa, ta) μεταξύ, τά (metaxu, ta) νόμος (nomos) νοῦς (nous) οἴησις (oiêsis) οἰκεῖα, τά (oikeia, ta) οἰκεῖον ἀγαθόν, τό (oikeion agathon, to) οἰκεῖος (oikeios) οἰκειότης (oikeiotês) οἰκείως (oikeiôs) οἰκειῶσαι (oikeiôsai) οἰκείωσις (oikeiôsis) οἰκία (oikia) ὁμολογία (homologia) ὁμολογουμένως ζῆν (homologoumenôs zên) ὀνόμασι παρακολουθεῖν, τοῖς (onomasi parakolouthein, tois) ὄρεξις (orexis) ὀρθὸς λόγος (orthos logos) ὁρμεῖν (hormein)

intermediate things (in the sense of preferred indifferents) intermediate things (in the sense of indifferents) law intelligence, mind presumption things that are familiar to us (to one’s nature) one’s own good

T8-23, 8-24

familiar, dear familiarity familiar (opp. of ἑτέρως) to make something familiar familiarization household, family agreement living in agreement

T9-1, 9-6, 10-23 T8-29a T10-16a T9-1

the understanding of words

T7-10

T2-18 T8-25b, 8-30a, 10-13 T7-13 T8-33b, 9-1 T10-6

T8-20, 10-11 T5-1b

ὁρμή (hormê) ὅρος (horos) οὐρανός (ouranos)

desire right reason to have an impulse towards something impulse definition heaven

οὐσία (ousia)

substance; essence

πανήγυρις (panêguris) παρακολουθεῖν (parakolouthein) παρακολούθησις (parakolouthêsis) παρακολουθητικὴ δύναμις (parakolouthêtikê dunamis) παρ’ ἀξίαν (par’ axian)

festival to understand, follow

T2-4, 3-4, 3-5, 3-8, 4-4, 10-21, 10-23 T3-3, 3-5, 3-7, 3-25, 8-16, 10-4 T7-8 T7-5, 7-10, 7-14

understanding

T3-21, 7-5, 7-6, 7-10

capacity to understand, follow contrary to value or merit παρὰ φύσιν (para phusin) contrary to nature πάρεργα (parerga) incidental effects πάσχον, τό (paschon, to) that which is acted upon πνεῦμα (pneuma) breath ποιοῦν, τό (poioun, to) that which acts πολυπράγμων (polupragmôn) busy about many things, minding other people’s business

T5-2 T8-33b T10-16a-b, 9-1, 10-17

T7-5 T8-31 T7-20 T7-26

348  Glossary of Greek terms πράγματα, τά (pragmata, ta) προαίρεσις (prohairesis) προαιρετικὴ δύναμις (prohairetikê dunamis) προαιρετικός (prohaiterikos) προηγμένον (proêgmenon) προηγουμένως (proêgoumenôs) προκαταρκτικὸν αἴτιον, τό (prokatarktikon aition, to) προκόπτων (prokoptôn) πρόληψις (prolêpsis) προνοεῖν (pronoein) προνοητικός (pronoêtikos) πρόνοια (pronoia) πρὸς ἡμᾶς (pros hêmas) σοφία (sophia) σοφός (sophos) σπερματικὸς λόγος (spermatikos logos) σπουδαῖος (spoudaios) στέργειν (stergein) στοιχεῖα (stoicheia) συγγένεια (sungeneia) συγγενής (sungenês) συμβαίνειν (sumbainein) συμβαῖνον, τό (sumbainon, to) συμπάθεια (sumpatheia) συμπαθεῖν (sumpathein)

(external) objects, things T7-22, 7-34, 8-18a-b (faculty of) choice T5-8, 7-23, 7-25, 10-10 faculty of choice pertaining to the faculty of choice preferred chiefly (cf. κατὰ τὸν δεύτερον λόγον) the preliminary cause who makes progress preconception to exercise providence providential providence (relative) to us wisdom sage seminal principle morally good to love, feel affection for elements, letters kinship akin to to happen what happens

sympathy, influence to be subject to sympathetic influence συμφέρον, τό (sumpheron, to) what is advantageous (self-)awareness συναίσθησις (sunaisthêsis) συνεκτικὴ δύναμις (sunektikê maintaining power dunamis) maintaining cause συνεκτικὸν αἴτιον (sunektikon aition) to maintain, preserve συνέχειν (sunekhein) (social) contract συνθήκη (sunthêkê) συνοικείωσις (sunoikeiôsis) allegorical interpretation συνορατικὴ δύναμις capacity to see (sunoratikê dunamis) σύνταξις (suntaxis) ordering, co-ordination of things σύστημα (sustêma) system, organized whole σφοδρὸν ἵμερον (sphodron powerful affection himeron) initiation into mysteries τελετή (teletê) τελευτή, τελευταῖος (teleutê, completion, end; final teleutaios) art, expertise τέχνη (technê) τεχνικόν (technikon) craftsmanlike

T5-8, 7-27, 8-13 T10-9a T10-5 T10-20 T5-2, 7-13 T1-15, 6-22, 7-12, 8-27a T5-8 T1-5, 5-11, 1-6, 1-8 T1 T2-19, 5-21 T7-33 T5-4 T8-27-a, 8-29b, 8-10b T8-14 T5-7, 10-23 T10-23 T10-6, 10-8, 10-10 T9-5, 9-7 T10-20 T10-19 T3-6 T7-1 T3-26 T9-9 T3, T4 T4, T5 T4-16, 4-17 T1-3

Glossary of Greek terms  349 τηρεῖν ἑαυτό, τό (têrein heauto, to) τήρησις (or συντήρησις) (têrêsis or suntêrêsis) τύχη (tuchê) ὗλαι, τά (hulai, ta) ὑπογραφή (hupographê) ὑπόληψις (hupolêpsis) φαντασία (phantasia) φαντασία καταληπτική (phantasia katalêptikê) φαῦλος (phaulos) φθόνος (phthonos) φιλανθρωπία (philanthrôpia)

the preservation of oneself preservation chance the materials, what serves as matter for virtue outline judgement impression cognitive impression

morally inferior, bad jealousy affection for human beings φιλάνθρωπος (philanthrôpos) affectionate to human beings φιλοσοφία (philosophia) philosophy φιλοστοργία (philostorgia) (parental) affection (for children) φορά (phora) movement φρόνησις (phronêsis) knowledge, wisdom φύσις (phusis) nature

φύσις οὐδὲν μάτην ποιεῖ, ἡ (phusis ouden matên poiei, hê) χαρά (chara) χρῆσις (chrêsis) χρῆσις or χρῆσθαι ταῖς φαντασίαις (chrêsis or chrêsthai tais phantasiais) χρῆσις or χρῆσθαι τοῖς ὀνόμασιν (chrêsis or chrêsthai tois onomasin) ψυχή (psuchê)

ὠφελεῖν, τό (to ôphelein)

nature does not work in vain

T9-1 T9-9 T7-17, 7-22, 7-23

T8-18a, 8-18c, 8-19, 8-21 T7-5, 7-10, 8-10, 9-8,10-16a T5-2 T2-19, 5-21 T1-15 T7-30 T6-22 T4-16, 4-17, 7-30 T7-30, 7-33, 8-36 T10-16b T1-1, 1-15, 2-19, 2-22, 3-24, 3-25, 4-12, 5-1b, 5-4, 5-24, 7-5, 7-6, 7-13, 7-20, 7-21, 7-26, 7-33, 7-37, 8-2, 8-9, 8-20, 8-22, 8-27b, 8-30b, 8-32a, 9-1, 9-8, 10-15

joy (one of the three cardinal Stoic good emotions) use use of impressions

T7-10, 7-17 T7-5, 7-10

use of words

T7-10, 7-13

soul

T3-3, 3-6, 3-11, 3-12, 5-1a-b, 8-7, 8-18a, 8-21, 9-15, 10-15, 10-16a T10-6, 10-9a

to be of use, advantageous

Glossary of Latin terms

(References, when available, are limited to the numbered excerpts in the book.) aequum ius equality of rights (Cicero’s T5-25 rendering of ἰσονομία) animus mind T2-20a-b, 3-27, 5-18, 6-1, 6-19, 6-24, 6-25, 6-26, 10-17 artifex craftsman T1-5, 6-1 artificiosa craftsmanlike T1-2 caritas sui care for oneself T9-11 clementia clemency T6-21, 6-25 commendatio being entrusted to some- T7-29 one’s care conciliare to recommend T4-13c conciliatio sui being recommended to T9-11 oneself (cf. οἰκείωσις to oneself) consilium plan, deliberation, intention, T3-23, 3-21, 3-27, 6-1, 6-24 discernment consuetudo custom, closeness T9-22, 9-23 contagio sympathy, influence T4-11 contemplatio contemplation T6-10, 6-11, 6-14 cupido love, yearning T9-19, 9-20 curiosus inquisitive T6-11 custodia care, heed T9-3 diligere to love T1-11, 5-17c, 7-29, 9-29, 10-25 honestum the honourable or morally T2-20a, 10-7 good initium starting-point (Cicero’s render- T7-29 ing of ἀφορμή) interdum at the same time, while, some- T9-22, 10-29 times, at times misericordia pity (cf. ἐλεός) neglectus neglect T10-26 officium appropriate action (cf. καθῆκον), T4-15, 5-23 duty, proper function otium leisure T6-15, 6-17, 6-19 patricius patrician

352  Glossary of Latin terms per sequellas necessarias through necessary consequence (Aulus Gellius’ rendering of κατὰ παρακολούθησιν) portenta monsters principale consilium primary intention progrediens, proficiens he who makes progress (cf. προκόπτων) prouidentia providence; faculty of foreseeing; provision prouidere to see to something, care for, provide for prudentia wisdom, providence or prudence (if distinct from sapientia) salus welfare, safety sapiens sage sapientia wisdom semina seed spiritus breath (cf. πνεῦμα) tutela protection, guardianship uoluptas pleasure

T3-21 T9-26 T3-21 T1-5, 2-17, 3-16, 3-21, 6-1, 9-2 T5-23, 10-1, 10-24 T1-5, 3-18, 3-27, 4-15, 5-17b, 5-23, 10-1 T1-11, 6-26, 6-28 T5-13, 5-19a, 5-23, 5-25, 6-15, 6-17, 6-19 T4-15, 5-17b, 5-25 T2-20a, 2-23, 6-9, 10-17 T6-24 T5-16b, 9-27, 9-28, 9-29, 10-29 T9-23

Index of sources

Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. Achilles Tatius Introduction to the Phaenomena of Aratus [Introd. Arat.] 13.2–8 71–72 13.11–17 71–72 Aëtius Placita [M.-R] 1.27.3 101n76 4.11.1 188n18, 222n16 4.21.1 97n15, 97n16 5.3.5 97n11 Alexander of Aphrodisias On Aristotle’s Meteorology [Meteorol.] 61.34 123n27 62.4–11 106 On Aristotle’s Prior Analytics book I [In An. pr.] 180.33–36 99n43 181.25–31 99n45 On Fate [Fat.] 174.2–3 35n42 182.12–13 327n37 183.21–23 327n37 205.1–16 327n37 207.5–21 328n64 On Mixture [Mixt.] 216.14–17 328n57 216.16 36n55 223.34 190n78 224.14–26 101n80 225.18–27 33n17 Problems and Solutions [Quaest., ed. Bruns] 2.21, p. 69, 3–10 294 On Providence [Prov., ed. Ruland]

5.1–15 31 5.16–17.21 29 Alexander of Lycopolis Against the Manicheans [Man.] 12.19.2 50 Ammonius On Aristotle’s Prior Analytics [In Ar. An. pr.] 8.20–2 125n70 Apuleius On Plato and his Doctrine [De Platone] 1.12 327n50 Aristotle Eudemian Ethics [EE] 7.1.1235a 83 On the Heavens [Cael.] 1.3.269b 33n30 1.4.271a 287n15 2.11.291b 287n15 Meteorology [Meteor.] 354b 62n38 Nicomachean Ethics [EN] 1.1100a 100n57 2.1106b 100n55 8.1155b 83 On the Generation of Animals [GA] 2.5.741b 287n15 2.6.744a 287n15 3.2.753a 287n15 On the Parts of Animals [PA] 4.687a 275 On the Soul [De an.] 3.12.432b 287n15

354  Index of sources 3.12.434a 287n15 Politics [Pol.] 1252b 288n22 Physics [Phys.] 2.4.196a 60n13 Topics [Top.] 8.5.159b 99n49 Athenaeus The Learned Banqueters [Deip.] 4.151E 155n34 6.263C-D 149 Atticus (ed. des Places) fr. 3, 54 33n32 Augustan History (SHA) Vita Marci 3.2 258n13 5.2–4 253 7.5–6 261n70 10.1–4 261n71 12.1–2 257 Augustine Against Julian of Eclanum [Contra Jul.] 4.12.60 156n49 The City of God [De civ. Dei] 8.7 222n19 Aulus Gellius Attic Nights [NA] 7.1.1 82 7.1.2–3 83 7.1.4–5 84 7.1.5–6 85 7.1.7–9 87–88 7.1.10–12 88–89 7.1.13 89 7.2 92 7.2.3 93 7.2.5 95 7.2.6 101n77 7.2.7–8 95 7.2.11 102n89, 258n7 7.2.12 102n89 Calcidius On Plato’s Timaeus [In Tim.] 144 51 165 222n28 Cicero Brutus [Brut.] 117 123n36

For Lucius Murena [Mur.] 74 123n36 Letters to Atticus [Ad Att.] 13.8 104 16.11.4 124n50 Lucullus [Luc.] 30 221n6 92 328n64 93 328n64 107 108 119 123n26 121 61n32 126 61n26 135 124n37 145 124n39 On Appropriate Actions [Off.] 1.11 15n9, 114, 115 1.12 117, 125n64 1.12–15 125n63 1.13 119 1.28 189n44 1.50–57 125n62 1.51 125n62 1.55–56 125n62 1.153 119–120 2.5 125n66 2.32 156n56 2.41–42 156n36 2.42 157n64 2.51 122n6 3.11 297 On Divination [Div.] 1.6 25 1.9 27 1.12 123n31 1.23 34n40 1.35 27 1.118 36n53 1.125 35n43 1.127 28 1.130 35n43 1.82–83 26 1.84 33n35 2.15 35n41 2.34 155n21 2.87 123n34 2.87–97 124n47 2.88 34n36, 112 2.89 123n35, 124n49 2.9–12 35n44 2.90 34n36 2.91 113 2.97 123n31 On Ends [Fin.] 1.29–30 156n38

Index of sources  355 1.30 288n20 1.31 288n26 1.69 279, 280 3.16 125n61, 288n18, 288n21, 288n24 3.21 258n5 3.22 63n82, 223n40 3.23 288n18 3.48 63n61 3.61 64n82 3.62 32n6, 63n78 3.62–63 215–216 3.66 284, 287n11 4.23 124n37 4.46 63n81 4.79 103 5.55 288n19 On Fate [Fat.] 15 34n36 39–43 63n76 41 101n76, 327n42 42 327n43 On Laws [De leg.] 1.19 260n53 1.60 33n21 On the Nature of the Gods [ND] 1.4 33n20 1.20 67–68 1.22 292 1.23 67–68 1.37 60n4 1.38 60n2 1.39–41 98n19 1.123–124 137 2.15 38–39 2.18 328 2.22 302 2.23–4 40–41 2.25–30 61n23 2.28 327n40 2.29 327n27, 327n28 2.30–32 308 2.33–36 287n3 2.35 159–160 2.35–37 187n5 2.36 160 2.37–38 155n22 2.40 42, 62n38, 62n39 2.40–41 47–48 2.40–42 61n25 2.46 98 2.47 326n15 2.49 44 2.57 20 2.58 22, 291, 307–308 2.84–85 107–108

2.118 104, 123n12 2.121 269 2.121–130 263, 287n3 2.124 263–264, 287n12 2.127 263, 287n10 2.130 289n37 2.133 325n3 2.133–153 325n4 2.147 93–94 2.154 61n34, 293 2.154–163 325n4 2.155 325n2 2.164 316 2.164–166 316–317 2.164–167 325n5 2.166–167 318 2.167 36n53 3.37 47, 62n38 3.93 321 Paradoxes of the Stoics [Parad.] 5.34 146 Republic [De re pub.] 1.10 188n34 1.15 110 1.16 111 1.34 125n72 3.1 156n49 6.1 33n21 Tusculan Disputations [Tusc.] 1.79 103 3.2 58 3.41 224n55 5.10 60n6 5.10–11 17n46, 124n41 Varro [Var.] 35–36 259n36 39 24 40–42 154n15 41 124 Clement of Alexandria Miscellanies [Strom.] 2.9.41.6 215 2.13.59.6 308 2.21.129.4 114, 126 2.22.131.3 325n9 4.3.10.1 99n54 5.8.48.1 43 8.9.26.3 327n32, 327n34 8.9.33.1 327n36 8.9.33.1–2 310 Cleomedes On the Heavens [Caelestia] 1.1.11–15 132–133

356  Index of sources 1.1.98–99 155n19 1.2.1–1 134 1.2.28 155n24 1.4.128–130 62n38 1.5.1–9 139 1.8.98 155n25 2.1.404–425 138 2.1.390–392 155n21 2.1.396–403 135 2.7.11–14 132 Cyril of Alexandria Against Julian [Cont. Jul.] 596b 29 625c 31 Damascius On Plato’s Phaedo – Lecture I [In Phd.] 32 295 Diogenes Laertius Lives and Opinions of the Philosophers [D.L.] 5.32 327n46 7.2 124n40 7.2–3 328n60 7.4 61n30, 124n45 7.8 260n66 7.33 15n21 7.36 36n36, 60n2 7.39 15n4 7.40 16n33, 97n6 7.41 124n43, 153n1, 309 7.45 154n11 7.46 162 7.46–48 187n10 7.52 129 7.54 128 7.60 222n18 7.85 125n52, 191n93, 262, 288n24 7.86 288n23 7.87 156n52 7.88 154n7, 289n47 7.89 58, 209 7.101 325n10 7.101–103 298 7.102 188n20 7.103 100n67 7.104–105 99n50, 259n35 7.105 242–243 7.116 260n56, 260n57 7.120 32n5, 62n58, 63n60, 63n77 7.119 15n26

7.121 15n20, 259n27 7.122 15n22, 15n23, 146–147 7.123 258n6 7.124 155n36 7.127 62n57 7.129 155n36 7.134 32n2, 101n72 7.136 33n26, 62n36, 62n37, 62n40 7.137 74 7.138–139 290n50, 303 7.139 41–42, 70 7.141 98n27, 98n30 7.142 32n8, 105 7.142–143 68–69 7.143 123n17, 289n46, 328n60 7.145 33n38 7.148 56, 123n18, 310 7.149 25, 108 7.151 329n82 7.156 62n48 7.160 60n3, 188n13, 259n40, 259n44 7.160–167 60n2 7.168 61n21 7.174–175 60n9 7.180 65 7.183 97n2 8.28 97n12 8.30 154n10 10.26–27 97n5 10.31 155n31 10.119 223n51, 223n52 10.137 272, 288n20 Epicurus Letter to Herodotus [Ep. Hdt.] 76 16n40 Letter to Menoeceus [Ep. Men.] 123 16n39 129 100n57 Principal Doctrines [KD] 31–35 224n61 Vatican Sayings [SV] 58 223n51 Epictetus Discourses [D.] 1.2.12 223n33 1.3.1 207 1.4.11 63–65 1.5.8–9 221n2 1.6.1–2 193 1.6.13–15 196 1.6.17 221n7

Index of sources  357 1.6.19 195 1.6.20–22 196 1.6.26 193 1.6.32–34 206 1.6.38–39 194 1.6.41–42 193 1.11 216 1.11.10–11 216 1.11.19 216, 224n57 1.11.25–26 223 1.12.1–3 312 1.12.15 102n88 1.14 289n48, 313 1.14.1–6 314 1.14.6 289n46 1.14.11–14 289n47 1.14.12–14 285 1.16.7–8 197 1.16.9–14 222n9 1.17.15–18 190n63 1.18.3 259n46 1.19.11–15 300 1.20 222n11 1.22 222n15 1.22.10 223n36 1.23.3–6 217–218 1.27 223n30 1.28.9 259n46 1.29.1–4 210 1.3.1 207 2.1.13 259n26 2.5.24–26 186 2.5.7 325n12 2.6.9 9, 185 2.8.10 290n50 2.8.11 15n7, 97n13 2.8.11–23 285–286 2.8.22 289n47 2.11.1–6 202 2.14.11 201–202 2.14.14–16 200 2.14.17–19 199–200 2.14.19–20 201 2.14.22 222n14 2.14.23–27 198–199 2.17.5–7 204 2.20.15–16 220 2.20.18–20 221 2.20.6–7 224n53 2.20.6–9 220 2.22.15–20 229 2.23.5–6 211 2.23.9 211

2.23.11 211–212 2.23.19 223n19 2.23.34–35 212 3.6.8–10 63n70 3.7.14 224n56 3.7.18 224n64 3.7.19–20 217 3.7.22–23 219 3.7.27 222n25 3.7.32–36 190n82 3.16 223n31 3.20.4–8 209–210 3.21.20 190n62 3.24.1–3 63n70 3.24.15–16 207 3.24.84–87 224n57 4.1.10 222n20 4.1.51 63n70 4.1.68 258n21 4.1.109 222n26 4.1.124–127 208 4.4.5 188n24, 259n32 4.7.7 63n70 4.7.8–9 213 4.7.10–11 214 4.9.6 190n63 4.11.6 223n37 Handbook [Ench.] 3 224n57 8 102n87 11 224n57 Epiphanius On Faith [Fid.] 9.35 24 9.39 24 9.41 15n26 Etymologicum Gudianum s.v. ἥλιος 50 Etymologicum magnum 751.16–22 s.v. τελετή 5–6 Eusebius of Caesarea Preparation for the Gospels [PE] 15.5.8 33n32, 327n49 15.14.1 21 15.15.4–5 61n34, 125n71, 180 15.18.3 123n20 15.19.1–3 99n41

358  Index of sources Fronto Correspondence [Epistulae, ed. van den Hout] Fron. Ad M. Caes. 4.13.2–3, p. 67–68 259n41 Fron. Ad Verum 1.6.7, p. 111 260n62 Galen On Bodily Mass [Plen.] 7.525.9–14 190n77 On Hippocrates’ Surgery [Hipp. off. med., ed. Kühn] XVIII B, p. 649 188n17 On the Doctrines of Hippocrates and Plato [PHP] 4.4.38 155n17 5.5.4–5 127 5.5.8 155n29 5.5.19 222n28 5.6.33–36 153n3 6.2.5 154n8 On the Formation of the Fœtus [Foet.] 4.698.2–9 43–44 On the Usefulness of the Parts of the Body [De usu part.] 1.3 274 That the Capacities of the Soul Depend on the Mixtures of the Body [Quod animi mores] 820 230 Herodotus Histories [Historiae] 3.80 147, 156n53 Hesiod Works and Days [WD] 252–253 326n21 Hierocles Elements of Ethics [El. Eth.] 1.31–34 287n7 1.48–2.3 265 2.4–13 266 6.40–52 267 6.53–7.5 268 7.3–4 288n30 Hippolytus of Rome The Refutation of All Heresies [Ref.] 1.21.1 24 1.21.2 190n83

Justin Martyr Second Apology [II Apol.] 6.4–5 234–235 Lactantius Divine Institutions [Div. inst.] 7.23 80 On the Wrath of God [De ira] 13.20–21 36n51 Lucretius On the Nature of Things [De rerum natura] 4.379–386 156n32 4.832–843 275–276 4.1052–1057 278 4.1093–1096 278 4.1149–1156 277–278 4.1278–1287 278–279 5.436–445 281 5.837–839 282 5.855–867 282 5.878–881 281 5.923–924 289n35 5.925–961 156n40 5.925–1160 156n39 5.962–965 156n41 5.1011–1027 156n42 5.1028–1040 273–274 5.1033–1040 287n10 5.1105–1135 156n43 5.1136–1160 156n44 Macrobius Saturnalia 1.17.8 42 1.23.7 131 Marcus Aurelius Meditations [Med.] 1.7 258n4 1.7.1 224n60 1.8 258n4 1.11 253 1.14 256 1.15 258n4 1.15.1–8 232 1.15.8 224n60 1.17.10 258n4 1.17.11 248 1.17.16–17 245 1.17.22 258.2 2.1 244

Index of sources  359 2.11 233 2.17.22 258n2 2.17.3 258n2 3.2 227 3.4 244 3.5.4 258 3.6.2 290n49 3.6.4 258n23 3.9 240 3.11.5 259n43 4.3.10 239 4.10 249 4.16 290n49 4.45 249 5.8 260n55 5.13.1 238 5.20 259n47 5.27 290n49 5.28 229 5.30 249–250 5.33 257 5.36 243 5.36.1 259n43 6.1 238 6.14.2 258n23 6.20.1 259n48 6.27 252 6.30 254 6.36 226 6.44 258n12 6.44.1–3 245–246 6.44.4–6 247 6.45.3 259n43 6.52 239 7.25 231 8.1.5 258n3 8.6 260n55 8.7.2 260n55 8.15 228–229 8.16 228 8.34 236 8.46 250 8.56 235 8.59 252 9.1.5 63n71 9.1.6 250 9.1.9 241 9.11 251 9.27 251 9.28.3 258.20 9.29 255 9.42 229–230 9.42.9 63n71

10.2.3 258n23 10.7.1–3 231 10.28 256 10.38 238 11.8.1–4 237 11.8.5–6 258 11.10.4 259n43 11.16 240–241 11.36 258n22 12.5 258.8 12.8 239 12.14 258.15 12.22 239 12.36 260n55 Musonius Rufus Remains of Discourses Reported by Lucius [Diss., ed. Hense] 2, p. 7, 7–8, 2 63n69 12, p. 66, 2–6 258n21 16, p. 87, 14–18 258n21 Nemesius of Emesa On the Nature of Humans [Nat. hom.] 5.164 101n81 38.310 81 Origen of Alexandria Commentary on the Gospel of John [Comm. in Io.] 2.16.112 4 On the First Principles [Princ.] 3.1.2 305 Panaetius (fragments, ed. Alesse) 1 103 18 104 22 110 23 125n72 53 114 72 103 83 124n37 89 124n37 120 103 129 124n43 130 105, 123n12, 123n29 131 105, 123n15 132 105 136 108 138 123n31 139 108 140 112, 113, 123n31 156 124n38

360  Index of sources Philo of Alexandria Every Good Man is Free [Probus] 57.6 148 59 147 On Divine Immutability [Immut.] 42.1–44.3 306 On Providence [Prov.] 2.64 46 2.99–102 329n74 2.106–108 287n3 On the Eternity of the World [Aet. mundi] 47–51 99n42 52 99n44 76 105, 123n15, 123n16 77 123n21 78–84 123n16 90 32n8 Philodemus History of the Stoics [Stoic., ed. Dorandi 1994] col. LXI 103 On Piety [Piet., ed. Vassalo 2015] book II in P.Herc. 1428, coll. 6–8, 13 72–73 Plato Apology of Socrates [Apol.] 23a 124n42 31d-e 189n49 Euthydemus [Euthd.] 281b 325n11 Gorgias [Gorg.] 503d-e 61n16 521d 17n47 Laws [Leg.] 10.900c 36n49 10.902e 36n49 10.903c 36n50 Parmenides [Parm.] 142b 329n65 Phaedo [Phd.] 60b-c 86 64c 99n39 79a 62n46 97b-d 11 97d-98c 155n26 99b 32n14 99b-c 155n26 99c 17n48 102b 86 102e 100n60 103b 100n60

108e 155n26 Phaedrus [Phdr.] 229c-230a 98n26 Philebus [Phil.] 29a-30d 328n60 Protagoras [Prot.] 320d-323a 156n49 320e 287n10 320e-321a 289n37 321b 33n23 330a 125n59 330b 125n59 333c 33n23 349b 125n59 352c 125n59 352d 125n59 356a 125n57, 125n58 356d 125n55, 125n56 361c-d 33n23, 126n60 Republic [Rep.] 1.342e 325n7 1.343b 296 2.379b-c 101n73 2.379c 100n55 6.497a-b 189n55 6.499c-d 189n48 7.519c 189n41 7.520a-e 189n43 7.520e-521b 189n42 10.617e 62n54 Theaetetus [Tht.] 176a 90–91, 100n59 177c-179b 125n54 Timaeus [Tim.] 27e 62n46 29d 32n9 30d 32n9 31c 32n12 32b 32n12 33b-34b 326n15 33c-d 99n38 34a-40d 187n7 35a-b 60n16 40d 98n23 40e 98n22, 98n24 42d 62n55 46c-e 32n14 47c 61n24 48b-c 32n10 51d-e 124n48 52e 32n11 53c 32n13 74e-75c 100n65

Index of sources  361 75c 100n66 90a 285 Pliny the Elder Natural History [Nat.] 2.101 326n23 Plutarch Against the Stoics on Common Conceptions [Com. not.] 23.1069E 8 31.1075A-C 75–76 32.1075E 16n41 36.1077D-E 79–80 44.1083C 99n40 44.1083C-D 98n29 45.1084D 328n64 Concerning the Face Which Appears in the Orb of the Moon [Fac.] 923A 45 On Stoic Self-Contradictions [St. rep.] 1.1033A-C 188n33 9.1035A 5 9.1035C-D 7–8 12.1038B 258n6, 264 23.1045B-C 35n42 30.1048A 99n51 33.1049E 100n62 34.1050C 187n6 35.1050E 329n83 37.1051C 319–320 38.1051E 98n32, 123n23 38.1051F 98n33 39.1052B-C 77–78 39.1052C 78 39.1052C-D 77 44.1055B 328n59 Porphyry On Abstinence from Killing Animals [De abst.] 1.7.1 289n33 2.22.1–3 289n40 Posidonius (fragments, eds. Edelstein – Kidd) F22a 137 F24 131, 289n47 F35 230 F39 155n36 F40 155n36 F42 128 F47 155n17

F60 149 F85 130 F90 154n17 F91 153n1 F96 329n66 F106 155n21 F107 35n43 F110 35n43 F138 155n21 F146 154n8 F160 155n29 F163 258n11 F166 153n3 F169 258n9 F186 126 F187 126–127 F210 289n47 F214–215 328n58 F217 328n58 F284 150, 152 T57 132 T80 155n34 T83 155n17 Proclus Commentary on Euclid’s Elements (In Eucl., ed. Friedlein) 214, 15–218, 11 155n17 Commentary on the First Alcibiades of Plato (In Alc.) 318 297 Pseudo-Andronicus On Emotions [De pass., ed. Glibert-Thirry] 1.6, p. 235.28–29 260n57 2.1, p. 241.19 260n53 Pseudo-Galen On the History of Philosophy [Histor. philos., ed. Diels] 5.602.19–603.2 15n6, 121 Ps.-Plutarch Opinions of the Philosophers [Placita] 1.874E 15n6, 16n35, 121 1.27.885A 101n76 4.11.900B 222n16 4.11.900C 188n18 4.21.903A-B 97n15 4.21.903B 97n16 5.3.905A 97n11

362  Index of sources Seneca Letters [Ep.] 10.4 329n81 16.4–6 258n19 41.1 289n47 48.11 187n8 49.11 161 66.12 191n86 88.21–28 154n17 90.1 143–144 90.2 144 90.3 144 90.4 145–146 90.5 150 90.6 152 90.11 156n46 90.13 156n46 90.14 143 90.18 142 90.19 156n47 90.21 156n47 90.38–40 156n47 90.44 141 90.46 142 94.28–29 55 94.54–55 223n29, 260n65 95.50 323 108.8 56 110.1 289n47 113 190n65 113.4–5 329n65 120 63n75 120.3 63n74 121.5 288n21 121.6 287n8 121.7 288n24 120.14 191n86 121.18 32n4, 223n42, 284 121.24 269–270 Natural Questions [NQ] 1.Praef.2 188n15 2.5 46–47 2.38.1–4 187n11 2.45 158–159 7.25.4 163 7.29.3 162 7.30.2 124n38 On Benefits [Ben.] 4.6.5–6 163 4.7–8 187n3 4.8 187n4 On Clemency [Clem.] 1.1.2–4 178–179

1.3.3 184–185 1.3.4 191n90 1.3.5–4.1 181 1.4.1 191n91 1.5.1–2 181–182 1.17.1–2 183 1.24.1–2 183 2.2.1 190n80 2.5.1 191n87 2.5.2–3 180 2.6.1 191n89 2.6.4 191n88 2.7.3 179 On Leisure [Ot.] 1.1.6 190n68 1.3 223n29, 260n65 1.4 189n60 2.1–2 188n31, 189n58 2.2.2 190n68 3.1 190n64 3.2–3 170 3.3 189n53 3.5 171 5.1–2 165 5.3–4 165–166 5.5 191n86 5.5–6 167 5.8 169 6.1 188n29 6.1–2 188n37 6.2 188n28 6.4 175–176 6.5 188n29, 190n61, 190n66 8.1 172 8.2 174 8.3 189n40, 189n52 On Providence [Prov.] 1.5 206 2.6 206 3.1 324 6.7 168 6.8 188n26 6.9 188n25 Sextus Empiricus Against the Mathematicians [M] 7.22–23 6, 154n14 7.92–93 130 7.210–211 155n32 7.227–260 154n15 7.234 326n19 7.416 328n64 8.236 34n37

Index of sources  363 9.28 151 9.75–77 327n39 9.76 32n3 9.78–79 155n20, 328n56 9.78–85 326n22 9.80 326n14 9.86–87 304 9.95 328n60 9.101–103 33n25 9.104 32n9 9.116–118 60n11 9.119 327n27 9.211 327n33 9.335–337 329n65 9.336 329n65 11.22–26 329n65 11.61 298 11.64–67 259n42 Outlines of Pyrrhonism [PH] 1.235 122n5 2.137 101n84 3.9–11 36n51 3.194 288n20 Simplicius On Aristotle’s Categories [In Cat.] 214.28 326n14, 326n17 214.36–37 328n59 350.15–16 99n44 Stobaeus Eclogae [Ecl.] 1.26.4–14 51–52 1.26.7–10 39 1.78.18–20 14n2, 18 1.79.1–12 92 1.92.14–15 35n42 1.138.14–139.4 327n41 1.171.2–5 62n51 1.179.2 329n66 1.213.17–21 20 1.253.1–3 155n21 1.368.12–20 326n18 2.63.6–24 16n36, 325n6 2.65.7–14 53 2.75.11–76.8 154n5 2.76.9–10 223n40 2.77.21 15n10, 156n52, 188n23, 259n31 2.79.18–80.13 63n79, 223n41 2.85.13–86.4 63n62 2.86.17–87.6 221n4, 327n30 2.87.4–5 327n35 2.88.1 327n38

2.88.2–6 327n31 2.88.22–89.3 100n69 2.92.12–13 259n45 5.906.18–907.5 63n59 Strabo Geographica [Geo. ed. Meineke] 3.5.8, p. 236, 11 328n58 Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta [SVF ] 1.1 124n40 1.41 61n30 1.53 154n15 1.60 124n39, 154n15 1.62 124n39, 129 1.68–69 124n39 1.89 327n41 1.98 21 1.107 62n51 1.111 32n9 1.120 20 1.121 50 1.134 24 1.153 23–24 1.163 123n18 1.171 62n48 1.172 19–20, 22, 291, 307–308 1.173 25 1.174 25, 108 1.176 14n2, 18 1.179 154n5 1.184 156n52, 188n23 1.191 259n36 1.271 170 1.351 259n40 1.361 259n42 1.378 60n4 1.435 36n52 1.448 60n2 1.463 61n21 1.481 60n9 1.500 45 1.501 47, 62n38 1.502 43 1.504 42, 47–48, 61n25, 62n38, 62n39 1.511 32n8 1.513 40–41 1.528 38–39 1.537 39, 51–52 1.538 15n26 1.540 42 1.550 25 1.552 156n52

364  Index of sources 1.558 297, 325n9 1.566 53 1.631 128 2.34 327n33 2.35 15n6, 16n35, 121 2.38 97n6 2.41 16n33 2.42 5 2.44 6, 154n14 2.49 125n70 2.83 188n18 2.102 32n8, 33n26, 62n36, 62n37, 62n40 2.106 222n19 2.130 162, 187n10 2.135 188n17 2.229 32n8 2.235 154n11 2.242 34n37 2.276 328n64 2.298a 328n64 2.311 32n3, 327n39 2.336 327n41 2.351 310, 327n36 2.391 326n14, 326n17, 328n59 2.418 101n81 2.439 190n77 2.441 190n78 2.442 101n80 2.458 306 2.473 36n55, 328n57 2.510 99n44 2.524 329n65 2.526 74 2.528 61n34, 125n71, 180 2.540 155n19 2.550 328n59 2.581 32n8, 62n37 2.589 98n27 2.594 106 2.596 123n20 2.599 99n41 2.604 77 2.605 79 2.623 80 2.624 99n45 2.625 81 2.633 68–69, 123n17, 328n60 2.634 290n50, 302–303 2.644 41–42, 70 2.665 328n64 2.686 71–72 2.687 71–72 2.761 43–44 2.774 62n48

2.826 326n18 2.836 97n15, 97n16 2.913 92 2.933 51 2.937 187n6 2.944 28 2.954 34n36 2.973 35n42 2.974 63n76, 327n42, 327n43 2.975 190n83, 224n62, 260n67 2.981 327n37 2.988 305 2.1000 93, 95, 101n77, 102n89, 258n7 2.1001 327n37 2.1003 328n64 2.1008 5–6 2.1013 155n20, 326n14, 328n56 2.1014 304 2.1015 328n60 2.1022 123n18 2.1023 72–73 2.1024 187n3, 187n4 2.1044 23n17 2.1049 75–76 2.1064 79–80 2.1068 77–78 2.1077 98n19 2.1102 329n82 2.1118 294, 295 2.1125 100n62 2.1131 61n34, 293 2.1132 57, 309–310 2.1169 82, 83, 84, 85 2.1170 87–89 2.1176 329n83 2.1178 319–320 2.1192 26 2.1197 321 2.1210 36n53 3.4 154n7, 289n47 3.18 63n82, 223n40 3.30 325n10 3.68 7–8 3.75 329n65 3.117 188n20, 298 3.119 99n50, 259n35 3.126 99n50, 259n35 3.139 99n51 3.140 63n79, 223n41 3.169 221n4, 327n30, 327n35 3.171 327n31, 327n38 3.178 125n52, 191n93, 262, 288n23, 288n24 3.179 264

Index of sources  365 3.182 125n61, 288n18, 289n45 3.186 288n18 3.188 258n5 3.191 8–9, 185 3.228 58, 209 3.229 222n28 3.280 16n36, 325n6 3.292 215 3.310 297 3.315 260n53 3.340 32n6, 63n78, 214–215 3.342 284, 287n11 3.355 15n20, 259n27 3.377 306 3.378 60n4, 100n69 3.413 259n45 3.432 260n57 3.452 191n87 3.491 8 3.494 63n62 3.497 63n82, 223n40 3.510 63n59 3.527 62n58 3.530 63n61 3.536 62n57 3.544 4, 259n28 3.617 146–147 3.674 258n6 3.731 32n5, 63n77 3.Ant.40 33n35 3.Diog.36 34n36 3.Diog.37 33n35 3.Diog.44 223n40 The Hellenistic Philosophers [L.-S] 13G 67–68, 292 13I 282 16B 155n31 16E 155n32 16H 155n32 19B 273–274 21A 156n38, 288n20 21B 100n57 21L 224n55 22A 224n61 22D 223n51 22J 156n40 22K 156n42 22L 156n43, 156n44 22M 289n33, 289n34 22O 279 23B 16n39, 155n27 23C 16n40 26A 15n6, 16n35, 121

26B 16n33, 97n6, 124n43, 153n1 26C 5 26E 125n70 26F 154n17 28A 98n29, 99n40 28D 329n66 28M 326n14, 326n17, 328n59 28O 79–80 31B 162, 187n10 32F 222n19 33I 327n31, 327n38 36B 101n84 36G 34n37 37F 328n64 37G 328n64 37H 328n64 38E 34n36 39E 188n18, 222n18 40A 128 40B 124n39 40N 221n6 40P 129 41A 124n39 42D 26 42E 36n53 43A 56, 309–310 44B 32n1, 32n8 44C 101n72 44F 74 45G 21 46B 32n8, 33n26, 62n36, 62n37, 62n40 46D 20 46E 77, 78 46F 79 46J 98n27, 98n30 46M 32n8 46P 105, 123n15, 123n21 47C 40–41, 327n27, 327n28 47D 101n81 47F 190n77 47I 101n80 47L 190n78 47O 41–42, 70, 290n50, 302–303 48C 36n55, 328n57 51A 99n44 51G 328n64 52A 99n44 52B 80 52C 81 52D 99n41 52F 99n43, 99n45 53A 305 53D 43–44 53F 326n19

366  Index of sources 53H 97n15, 97n16 53K 326n18 53Q 221n4, 327n30, 327n35 53X 68–69 53Y 307–308 54C 38–39 54F 32n9 54G 302 54H 155n22 54I 39, 51–52 54Q 82, 83, 84, 85, 87–88, 89 54S 319–320 54T 187n6 54U 51 55A 327n41 55B 327n33 55C 327n32, 327n34 55I 310, 327n36 55K 93 55M 92 55O 28 57A 125n52, 191n93, 262, 288n23 57C 265, 266 57E 264 57F 32n6, 63n78, 214–215 58A 100n67, 188n20, 298 58B 99n50, 259n35 58C 63n79, 223n41 58F 259n42 58G 259n40, 259n44 58H 99n51 58J 8–9, 185 58K 223n40 59A 8

59B 63n62 59I 63n59 60A 7–8 60E 63n74 60G 329n65 61D 16n36, 325n6 61I 62n57 61L 53 62A 190n83, 224n62, 260n67 62C 63n76, 101n76, 327n42, 327n43 62D 95, 101n77, 102n89, 258n7 62J 328n64 63A 156n52, 188n23 63B 154n5 63C 154n7, 156n52, 289n47 63E 195, 195–196 63J 114, 126 64F 63n82, 223n40 65C 100n69 65F 260n56 65I 153n3 65M 222n28 66G 64n82 67L 61n34, 125n71, 180 67M 15n20, 146–147, 59n27 67Y 150, 152 68T 122n5 Xenophon Memoirs of Socrates [Mem.] 1.1.11–16 17n46, 60n5 1.1.19 312–313 1.4.8 328n60 3.12.4 63n64

General Index

Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. affection (φιλοστοργία, φιλανθρωπία) 137, 180, 214–215, 216–221, 253–255, 316; see also familiarization Alesse, F. 106, 109, 122n7, 123n32 Alexander of Aphrodisias 28–32, 294–295 Anaxagoras 11, 71, 275 Antipater of Tarsus 76, 106 Antipater of Tyre 41, 70, 98n28, 123n13, 302 Apollonius of Chalcedon 225 appropriate action 8–9, 54, 114, 119– 120, 155n36, 186, 196, 202–203 Aristarchus 45, 61n32 Aristo of Chios 37, 40, 60n2, 60n3, 187n13, 242, 259n41 Aristotle 16n44, 24–25, 100n55, 100n56, 100n57, 103–104, 106–107, 271, 275, 287n15, 312, 327n47 Arius Didymus 180 art see craft astrology 34n36, 109–114 Atticus 25, 312 Boethus of Sidon 105, 128 Brouwer, R. 15n18, 15n24, 125n68 Bryan, J. 86, 101n75 Calcidius 51 Casadesús, F. 4–7 chance 24, 27–28, 31, 34n40, 35n41, 35n42, 38, 61n16, 109, 135, 199, 258n19, 258n20, 266, 283 choice (προαίρεσις) 134–135, 210–214, 223n36, 235–236, 258n22, 299–300 Cicero 17n46, 23, 33n21, 58, 101n76, 104, 111, 115, 117, 120, 124n50, 288n18, 297

city: cosmic 9, 180, 186, 199, 236–237, 247, 250, 255, 293–294; golden age 146–153; human 174–175, 186, 209, 217, 247, 255 Claudius Maximus 225, 232 clemency 179–185, 187, 258; see also kindness conception (ἔννοια) see preconception conflagration 21, 42, 48, 62n52, 67, 74, 77–81, 98n28, 104–108 contemplation 42, 119–120, 127, 132, 165–166, 168–176, 189n51, 194–204 craft 20, 142–143, 156n47 craftsman see demiurge criterion of truth 106, 110, 116, 124n48, 128–131, 139, 166–167, 318 Critolaus 24 demiurge 11, 21–25, 43–44, 60n16, 74–75, 77, 80, 94, 112, 136, 159, 166, 271, 285, 292, 308 Democritus 38 Diogenes of Babylon 25, 34n36, 105, 112, 223n40 Diogenes the Cynic 143 Dionysius of Heraclea 60n2 divination 25–28, 34–36, 97n8, 104–105, 108–109, 117, 123n11, 251, 159n52, 318–321 divine negligence 319–322; see also god dog and cart simile 183–184, 220–221, 256 Dragona-Monachou, M. 14n1, 36n54, 62n53 earth 44–48, 61n33, 106–107, 113, 139, 143, 151–152, 155n26, 166

368  General Index elements 21–22, 32n8, 71–72, 101n81, 107–108, 328n60; fifth element 24–25 end (telos) 10, 13, 38, 50, 54, 63n82, 64n82, 90, 93, 100n71, 114–115, 126–127, 131, 134, 136–141, 154n7, 156n52, 164–168, 186–187, 195–198, 223n40, 271–272 Epicurus 10, 60n10, 69, 97n5, 136–140, 155n31, 170, 217–221, 223n52, 224n55, 272–274 etymology 15n25, 33n21, 50, 127 familiarization (οἰκείωσις) 57, 114–118, 240, 264–291, 299–311; see also affection fate 18–19, 51, 92–96, 100n61, 101n61, 101n76, 158–159, 183–185, 220–221, 234–235 fire 19–25, 32n8, 40–42, 47–50, 308–310 freedom 5, 146–149, 158–160, 168–169, 178–179, 193–194, 208, 210, 213, 210, 232–237, 239–240, 255–258, 261n68 god: destructibility of particular gods 75–77; god’s care for human beings (including personal providence) 53–60, 94–96, 180–182, 206–208, 245–252, 293, 311–324; god’s care for the world 291–293; god’s omniscience 312–313; god within (δαίμων) 118, 127, 238, 240, 245–256, 284–286, 290n49; identical to the world 74–75, 77–79; names of 18–19, 158–159, 187n4; see also divine negligence Gregory, A. 38 Griffin, M. T. 156n58, 179, 188n39, 190n69 Heracles 206–207 Heraclitus 39–40, 60n15, 61n17, 61n19, 73, 83, 99n48, 99n49, 99n54, 106 Herillos of Carthage 38, 60n2 Hierocles 264–280 in our power (ἐφ’ ἡμῖν) 101n76, 211–213, 218–219, 223n36, 233–236 indifferents 9, 63n79, 84, 90, 115, 186, 200, 209, 212–213, 223n40, 236, 240–245, 259n44, 298, 319 judgement 146, 208–211, 239–240 Junius Rusticus 225, 258n4 Justin Martyr 234–235

kindness (εὐμένεια) 251–253, 255–258, 260n56; see also clemency king(ship) 145–149, 150–153, 157n64, 177–182 law 52, 72, 12, 145–146, 148, 151–153, 157n64, 175–176, 177, 179, 180, 210, 237, 257, 260n53 Lucretius 273–277, 280–283, 289n32 mathematics 112–113, 128, 130–131, 154n17; see also Pythagoras Maximus (friend of Pliny the Younger) 219, 224n58 moon 20, 24, 38, 43, 47, 72, 113, 133, 136, 314–315, 328n58 Murray, G. 4 nature 19–24, 94–96, 158–167, 220–224, 229–232, 262–264 paradoxes 4, 255 Pease, A. S. 322 Perseaus of Citium 60n2 perversion (διαστροφή) 58–59 philosophy 1–4, 7–11, 37, 111, 121–122, 141–142, 143–145, 173–175, 202, 217–219, 225, 254–255, 258n2 pity 179, 184, 243–244 Plato 10–12, 21–23, 29–31, 32n9, 33n23, 36n52, 38, 39–41, 73–74, 85–86, 90–91, 103–104, 111–114, 115–117, 124n48, 172–176, 203–204, 255, 308–309 prayer 137, 247, 323 Préchat, F. 323 preconception (πρόληψις) 57, 84, 76, 88, 99n36, 100n63, 123n23, 128, 152, 202–204, 209, 222n17, 273, 318 Prometheus 33n23, 116–117, 142 Pythagoras 111–112, 128, 152–153, 154n17; Pythagoreanism 23, 43; see also mathematics reason 114–122, 161–164, 210–213; see also criterion of truth religion 3–10 sage 4–5, 15n24, 54, 68, 119, 141–143, 146–150, 170–178, 217, 228, 232, 260n61 Salles, R. 48–49, 98n28

General Index  369 self-interest view of the good 295–301 self-respect 207–208 seminal reasons 23, 45, 56, 80, 163–164, 310 Socrates 10–11, 37, 110–114, 117, 124n40, 174, 297, 312–313 soul: human soul (as detached part of god) 69–70, 238, 284–285, 314–315; parts of 70–71 starting points (to virtues) 8, 20–21, 53–58, 114, 214 suicide 168–169 sun 20, 38, 41–44, 46–51, 62n38, 70–72, 124n45, 134–136, 300–301 sympathy (συμπάθεια) 113, 132–133, 314–315, 326n14, 328n57, 328n58

theodicy 51–53, 81–82, 205 theology 1–10, 15n24, 38 Thrasymachus 296–297 Tubero 110–113 Veyne, P. 322–324 virtues 8–9, 53–59, 84–85, 89–90, 118–121, 138, 141–142, 150, 162, 178–180, 206–207, 232, 297–299, 318–319, 325n6 water 45–48 wisdom 15n24, 23, 118–122, 141–142, 149–150, 151–153, 154n17, 156n46, 161–168, 178 Zeno of Tarsus 105