Posts by Joshua

Here's something strange--possibly meaningless, or maybe not.

When θεωρίαις passed into Latin as theōria, it was reduced to a single definition: contemplation/speculation. Festivals was lost.

When I looked at the bibliographies of Hicks, Yonge, and Mensch, I noticed this; Yonge spent most of his translating time working on Latin texts, and he uses the word θεωρίαις in the Latin sense of contemplation. Hicks and Mensch, on the other hand, spent most of their time working on Greek texts, and they use festivals.

Do three trees make a row in this case, or am I just out of my depth per usual?

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The title of your thread caught me eye too since I just started listening to a new podcast: Misquoting Jesus with Bart Ehrman.

Time for a new podcast spinoff from Lucretius Today? Misquoting Epicurus with Joshua and Dr. Emily Austin

Loose Lips Sink (The Epicurean View of Relation)Ships?

What we sorely lack is a good concise text to explain the Epicurean view of not just ethics, virtue, justice, piety and prudence, but morality. When Lucretius says tantum potuit religio suadere malorum, he seems to be making a moral claim. But Epicurus was not a moralist in the usual sense of that word, so there is certain to be confusion on this point. It would help to a lot to clear all that up.

Thank you for the added context, Don! I certainly agree with you that Dr. Austin's book is excellent on this point. And Epicurus likely did have unconventional views on human society, which would be worth exploring reasonably. Epictetus takes Epicurus' views to the outer limits of the absurd and criticizes them there.

Lucretius on the other hand is insightful in more ways than one here.

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Oft at some consecrated altar-side,

Where fragrant incense burns, a calf lies slain,

And from his breast breathes out the warm life-tide:

But the lone mother, o'er the grassy land

Far ranging, sees his cloven hoof-prints plain,

And leaves with roving eyes no spot unscanned

For her lost young, and fills with lowings wild

The shady wood; then tireless turns again

To the bare stall, sore stricken for her child.

Naught can the dewy grass, or tender leaf,

Or brimming river-bank, once fondly known,

Avail to bannish that o'er-mastering grief;

Nor by the sight of other calves, upgrown

In the fair fields, is her sad heart beguiled:

So deeply yearns she for her one, her own.

- De Rerum Natura, II, 352-366

translated by Henry S Salt

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For as physicians, when they seek to give

Young boys the nauseous wormwood, first do touch

The brim around the cup with the sweet juice

And yellow of the honey, in order that

The thoughtless age of boyhood be cajoled

As far as the lips, and meanwhile swallow down

The wormwood's bitter draught, and, though befooled,

Be yet not merely duped, but rather thus

Grow strong again with recreated health:

Proem to Book IV, William Ellery Leonard

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I should note for the record that it was this blog post that got me thinking about it.

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That’s important to note because due to the notorious ambiguity of Epicurean teachings, people sometimes want to question whether Epictetus really understood Epicureanism. It’s likely, however, that he had access to more Epicurean teachings than we do today. Scholars believe Epictetus possessed rare copies of early Greek Stoic texts, which he read to students and was discussing with them in the surviving Discourses. These may have been the books of Zeno, and more likely some of those by Chrysippus. These quite probably contained references to early Epicurean teachings. However, Epictetus would also have known many late Roman Epicureans personally. As this Discourse proves, Epicureans visited him and apparently discussed philosophy in his school, in the presence of students like Arrian, who recorded this conversation. So it’s unfairly dismissive to merely place in question his familiarity with the philosophy. Epictetus probably knew a great deal more about the teachings and way of life endorsed by Epicureans than we ever will.

Somehow I don't think that modern Stoics would accept this argument if it were put the other way--if it were claimed, for example, that Torquatus, Lucretius, or Philodemus understood Stoicism better than any modern Stoic ever could.

Before we had Don with us, the perennial subject of Epicurus' advice on marriage and children came up and I was compelled to do my best with respect to the Greek. That thread is here, and while I wouldn't necessarily change what I wrote I have been reading something that once again puts the subject before my eyes. In The Discourses of Epictetus as recorded by Arrian, the philosopher mentions Epicurus a number of times, quoting him once in a way that I find surprising:

Quote from The Discourses of Epictetus

Even Epicurus is sensible that we are by nature sociable beings; but having once placed our good in the mere outward shell, he can say nothing afterwards inconsistent with that; for again, he strenuously maintains that we ought not to admire or accept anything separated from the nature of good, and he is in the right to maintain it. But how, then, arise any affectionate anxieties, unless there be such a thing as natural affection towards our offspring? Then why do you, Epicurus, dissuade a wise man from bringing up children? Why are you afraid that upon their account he may fall into anxieties? Does he fall into any for a mouse, that feeds within his house? What is it to him, if a little mouse bewails itself there? But Epicurus knew that, if once a child is born, it is no longer in our power not to love and be solicitous for it. On the same grounds he says that a wise man will not engage himself in public business, knowing very well what must follow. If men are only so many flies, why should he not engage in it?

And does he, who knows all this, dare to forbid us to bring up children? Not even a sheep, or a wolf, deserts its offspring; and shall man? What would you have, that we should be as silly as sheep? Yet even these do not desert their offspring. Or as savage as wolves? Neither do these desert them. Pray, who would mind you, if he saw his child fallen upon the ground and crying? For my part, I am of opinion that your father and another, even if they could have foreseen that you would have been the author of such doctrines, would not have thrown you away.

ἐπινοεῖ καὶ Ἐπίκουρος ὅτι φύσει ἐσμὲν κοινωνικοί, ἀλλ᾽ ἅπαξ ἐν τῷ κελύφει θεὶς τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἡμῶν οὐκέτι δύναται ἄλλο οὐδὲν εἰπεῖν. [2] πάλιν γὰρ ἐκείνου λίαν κρατεῖ, ὅτι οὐ δεῖ ἀπεσπασμένον οὐδὲν τῆς τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ οὐσίας οὔτε θαυμάζειν οὔτ᾽ ἀποδέχεσθαι: καὶ καλῶς αὐτοῦ κρατεῖ. [3] πῶς οὖν ὑπονοητικοί ἐσμεν, οἷς μὴ φυσικὴ ἔστι πρὸς τὰ ἔγγονα φιλοστοργία; διὰ τί ἀποσυμβουλεύεις τῷ σοφῷ τεκνοτροφεῖν; τί φοβῇ μὴ διὰ ταῦτα εἰς λύπας ἐμπέσῃ; [4] διὰ γὰρ τὸν μῦν τὸν ἔσω τρεφόμενον ἐμπίπτει; τί οὖν αὐτῷ μέλει, ἂν μυίδιον μικρὸν ἔσω κατακλαίῃ αὐτοῦ; [5] ἀλλ᾽ οἶδεν, ὅτι, ἂν ἅπαξ γένηται παιδίον, οὐκέτι ἐφ᾽ ἡμῖν ἐστι μὴ στέργειν μηδὲ φροντίζειν ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ. [6] διὰ τοῦτο φησὶν οὐδὲ πολιτεύσεσθαι τὸν νοῦν ἔχοντα: οἶδεν γὰρ τίνα δεῖ ποιεῖν τὸν πολιτευόμενον: ἐπείτοι εἰ ὡς ἐν μυίαις μέλλεις ἀναστρέφεσθαι, τί κωλύει; [7] ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως εἰδὼς ταῦτα τολμᾷ λέγειν ὅτι ‘μὴ ἀναιρώμεθα τέκνα.’ ἀλλὰ πρόβατον μὲν οὐκ ἀπολείπει τὸ αὑτοῦ ἔγγονον οὐδὲ λύκος, ἄνθρωπος δ᾽ ἀπολείπει; [8] τί θέλεις; μωροὺς ἡμᾶς εἶναι ὡς τὰ πρόβατα; οὐδ᾽ ἐκεῖνα ἀπολείπει. θηριώδεις ὡς τοὺς λύκους; οὐδ᾽ ἐκεῖνοι ἀπολ [9] είπουσιν. ἄγε, τίς δέ σοι πείθεται ἰδὼν παιδίον αὐτοῦ κλαῖον ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν πεπτωκός; [10] ἐγὼ μὲν οἶμαι ὅτι εἰ καὶ ἐμαντεύσατο ἡ μήτηρ σου καὶ ὁ πατήρ, ὅτι μέλλεις ταῦτα λέγειν, οὐκ ἄν σε ἔρριψαν.

Quote from The Discourses of Epictetus

Thus also, when Epicurus would destroy the natural tie between mankind, he makes use of the very [p. 1190] thing he is destroying. For what says he? "Be not deceived; be not seduced and mistaken. There is no natural tie between reasonable beings. Believe me. Those who say otherwise mislead and impose upon you." Why are you concerned for us then? Let us be deceived. You will fare never the worse, if all the rest of us are persuaded that there is a natural tie between mankind, and that it is by all means to be preserved. Nay, it will be much safer and better. Why do you give yourself any trouble about us, sir? Why do you break your rest for us? Why do you light your lamp? Why do you rise early? Why do you compose so many volumes? Is it that none of us should be deceived concerning the gods, as if they took any care of men; or that we may not suppose the essence of good consists in anything but in pleasure? For if these things be so, lie down and sleep, and lead the life of which you judge yourself worthy, - that of a mere worm. Eat, drink, debauch, snore. What is it to you, whether others think rightly or wrongly about these things? For what have you to do with us? You take care of sheep, because they afford their milk, their wool, and at last their flesh. And would it not be a desirable thing that men might be so lulled and enchanted by the Stoics as to give themselves up to be milked and fleeced by you, and such as you? Should not these doctrines be taught to your brother Epicureans only, and concealed from the rest of the world; who [p. 1191] should by all means, above all things, be persuaded that we have a natural tie with each other, and that self-command is a good thing, in order that all may be kept safe for you? Or is this tie to be preserved towards some and not towards others? Towards whom, then, is it to be preserved,--towards such as mutually preserve, or such as violate it? And who violate it more than you, who teach such doctrines?

οὕτως καὶ Ἐπίκουρος, ὅταν ἀναιρεῖν θέλῃ τὴν φυσικὴν κοινωνίαν ἀνθρώποις πρὸς ἀλλήλους, αὐτῷ τῷ ἀναιρουμένῳ συγχρῆται. [7] τί γὰρ λέγει; ‘μὴ ἐξαπατᾶσθε, ἄνθρωποι, μηδὲ παράγεσθε μηδὲ διαπίπτετε: οὐκ ἔστι φυσικὴ κοινωνία τοῖς λογικοῖς πρὸς ἀλλήλους: πιστεύσατέ μοι. οἱ δὲ τὰ ἕτερα λέγοντες ἐξαπατῶσιν ὑμᾶς καὶ παραλογίζονται.’ [8] τί οὖν σοι μέλει; ἄφες ἡμᾶς ἐξαπατηθῆναι. μή τι χεῖρον ἀπαλλάξεις, ἂν πάντες οἱ ἄλλοι πεισθῶμεν, ὅτι φυσική ἐστιν ἡμῖν κοινωνία πρὸς ἀλλήλους καὶ ταύτην δεῖ παντὶ τρόπῳ φυλάσσειν; καὶ πολὺ κρεῖσσον καὶ ἀσφαλέστερον. [9] ἄνθρωπε, τί ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν φροντίζεις, τί δι᾽ ἡμᾶς ἀγρυπνεῖς, τί λύχνον ἅπτεις, τί ἐπανίστασαι, τί τηλικαῦτα βιβλία συγγράφεις; μή τις ἡμῶν ἐξαπατηθῇ περὶ θεῶν ὡς ἐπιμελουμένων ἀνθρώπων ἢ μή τις ἄλλην οὐσίαν ὑπολάβῃ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἢ ἡδονήν; [10] εἰ γὰρ οὕτως ταῦτα ἔχει, βαλὼν κάθευδε καὶ τὰ τοῦ σκώληκος ποίει, ὧν ἄξιον ἔκρινας σεαυτόν: ἔσθιε καὶ πῖνε καὶ συνουσίαζε καὶ ἀφόδευε καὶ ῥέγκε. [11] τί δὲ σοὶ μέλει, πῶς οἱ ἄλλοι ὑπολήψονται περὶ τούτων, πότερον ὑγιῶς ἢ οὐχ ὑγιῶς; τί γὰρ σοὶ καὶ ἡμῖν; τῶν γὰρ προβάτων σοι μέλει, ὅτι παρέχει ἡμῖν αὑτὰ καρησόμενα καὶ ἀμελχθησόμενα καὶ τὸ τελευταῖον κατακοπησόμενα; [12] οὐχὶ δ᾽ εὐκταῖον ἦν, εἰ ἐδύναντο οἱ ἄνθρωποι κατακηληθέντες καὶ ἐπᾳσθέντες ὑπὸ τῶν Στωικῶν ἀπονυστάζειν καὶ παρέχειν σοι καὶ τοῖς ὁμοίοις καρησομένους καὶ ἀμελχθησομένους ἑαυτούς; [13] πρὸς γὰρ τοὺς Συνεπικουρείους ἔδει σε ταῦτα λέγειν, οὐχὶ δὲ πρὸς ἐκείνους † ἀποκρύπτεσθαι, πολὺ μάλιστ᾽ ἐκείνους πρὸ πάντων ἀναπείθειν, ὅτι φύσει κοινωνικοὶ γεγόναμεν, ὅτι ἀγαθὸν ἡ ἐγκράτεια, ἵνα σοι πάντα τηρῆται; [14] ἢ πρός τινας μὲν δεῖ φυλάττειν ταύτην τὴν κοινωνίαν, πρός τινας δ᾽ οὔ; πρὸς τίνας οὖν δεῖ τηρεῖν; πρὸς τοὺς ἀντιτηροῦντας ἢ πρὸς τοὺς παραβατικῶς αὐτῆς ἔχοντας; καὶ τίνες παραβατικώτερον αὐτῆς ἔχουσιν ὑμῶν τῶν ταῦτα διειληφότων;

I don't have anything like the kind of facility for the Greek language that would be useful in evaluating the quotation underlined above, but I am capable of following a few hints. What I want to propose is that the words underlined above do not sound in their diction like something Epicurus would actually say. To begin with the part that caught my attention: "Believe me." ?

Believe me? I couldn't think of I single time in any surviving writing when Epicurus started or finished a sentence with believe me. It seems to me to be a phrase so foreign to his style that I could hardly believe he wrote it. So here is the phrase in Greek; πιστεύσατέ μοι--pisteusate moi. It is a phrase that was used in the ancient world, though not earlier than the late first and early second century AD that I can find. Dio Cassius, the Roman historian, uses it. The church father Ignatius of Antioch uses it. [Edit to add: The 1st century Roman/Jewish Historian Josephus also uses this word] Epictetus, blissfully unaware of the irony, uses it earnestly in his own words:

Quote from The Discourses of Epictetus

Why then do you impose upon yourselves, and play tricks with others? Why do you put on a dress not your own, and walk about in it, mere thieves and pilferers of names and things which do not belong to you? I am now your preceptor, and you come to be instructed by me. And indeed my aim is to secure you from being restrained, compelled, hindered; to make you free, prosperous, happy; looking to God upon every occasion, great or small. And you come to learn and study these things. Why then do you not finish your work, if you have the proper aims, and I, besides the aim, the proper qualifications? What is wanting? When I see an artificer, and the materials lying ready, I await the work. Now here is the artificer; here are the materials; what is it we want? Is not the thing capable of being taught? It is. Is it not in our own power, then? The only thing of all others that is so. Neither riches nor health nor fame nor, in short, anything else is in our power except a right use of the semblances of things. This alone is, by nature, not subject to restraint, not subject to hindrance. Why then do not you finish it? Tell me the cause. It must be my fault, or yours, or from the nature of the thing. The thing itself is practicable, and the only thing in our power. The fault then must be either in me or in you, or, more truly, in both. Well, then, shall we at length begin to carry such an aim with us? Let us lay aside all that is past. Let us begin. Only believe me, and you shall see.

Quote from The Discourses of Epictetus

Καὶ νῦν ἐγὼ μὲν παιδευτής εἰμι ὑμέτερος, ὑμεῖς δὲ παρʼ ἐμοὶ παιδεύεσθε. κἀγὼ μὲν ἔχω ταύτην τὴν ἐπιβολήν, ἀποτελέσαι ὑμᾶς ἀκωλύτους, ἀναναγκάστους, ἀπαραποδίστους, ἐλευθέρους, εὐροοῦντας, εὐδαιμονοῦντας, εἰς τὸν θεὸν ἀφορῶντας ἐν παντὶ καὶ μικρῷ καὶ μεγάλῳ· ὑμεῖς δὲ ταῦτα μαθησόμενοι καὶ μελετήσοντες πάρεστε. διὰ τί οὖν οὐκ ἀνύετε τὸ ἔργον, εἰ καὶ ὑμεῖς ἔχετʼ ἐπιβολὴν οἵαν δεῖ κἀγὼ πρὸς τῇ ἐπιβολῇ καὶ παρασκευὴν οἵαν δεῖ; τί τὸ λεῖπόν ἐστιν; ὅταν ἴδω τέκτονα, ὅτῳ ὕλη πάρεστιν παρακειμένη, ἐκδέχομαι τὸ ἔργον. καὶ ἐνθάδε τοίνυν ὁ τέκτων ἐστίν, ἡ ὕλη ἐστίν· τί ἡμῖν λείπει; οὐκ ἔστι διδακτὸν τὸ πρᾶγμα; διδακτόν. οὐκ ἔστιν οὖν ἐφʼ ἡμῖν; μόνον μὲν οὖν τῶν ἄλλων πάντων. οὔτε πλοῦτός ἐστιν ἐφʼ ἡμῖν οὔθʼ ὑγίεια οὔτε δόξα οὔτε ἄλλο τι ἁπλῶς πλὴν ὀρθὴ χρῆσις φαντασιῶν. τοῦτο ἀκώλυτον φύσει μόνον, τοῦτο ἀνεμπόδιστον. διὰ τί οὖν οὐκ ἀνύετε; εἴπατέ μοι τὴν αἰτίαν. ἢ γὰρ παρʼ ἐμὲ γίνεται ἢ παρʼ ὑμᾶς ἢ παρὰ τὴν φύσιν τοῦ πράγματος. αὐτὸ τὸ πρᾶγμα ἐνδεχόμενον καὶ μόνον ἐφʼ ἡμῖν. λοιπὸν οὖν ἢ παρʼ ἐμέ ἐστιν ἢ παρʼ ὑμᾶς ἤ, ὅπερ ἀληθέστερον, παρʼ ἀμφοτέρους. τί οὖν; θέλετε ἀρξώμεθά ποτε τοιαύτην ἐπιβολὴν κομίζειν ἐνταῦθα; τὰ μέχρι νῦν ἀφῶμεν. ἀρξώμεθα μόνον, πιστεύσατέ μοι, καὶ ὄψεσθε.

It must be admitted that πιστεύσατέ is a rare formulation of πιστεύετε, again a form of πιστεύω, which derived from πίστις; this is a root of words that Epicurus does use frequently, and which were very common in philosophical writings of the ancient Greece.

πίστις

1. trust in others, faith

2. belief in a higher power, faith

3. the state of being persuaded of something: belief, confidence, assurance

4. trust in a commercial sense: credit

5. faithfulness, honesty, trustworthiness, fidelity

6. that which gives assurance: treaty, oath, guarantee

7. means of persuasion: argument, proof

8. that which is entrusted

Quote from The Letter to Herodotus

"Next, keeping in view our perceptions and feelings (for so shall we have the surest grounds for belief) [...]"

--οὕτω γὰρ ἡ βεβαιοτάτη πίστις ἔσται,--

Quote from The Letter to Pythocles

"In the first place, remember that, like everything else, knowledge of celestial phenomena, whether taken along with other things or in isolation, has no other end in view than peace of mind and firm conviction."

"Πρῶτον μὲν οὖν μὴ ἄλλο τι τέλος ἐκ132 τῆς περὶ μετεώρων γνώσεως εἴτε κατὰ συναφὴν λεγομένων εἴτε αὐτοτελῶς νομίζειν εἶναι ἤπερ ἀταραξίαν καὶ πίστιν βέβαιον, καθάπερ καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν λοιπῶν."

Quote from The Principle Doctrines

35. It is impossible for the man who secretly violates any article of the social compact to feel confident that he will remain undiscovered, even if he has already escaped ten thousand times ; for right on to the end of his life he is never sure he will not be detected.

35. Οὐκ ἔστι τὸν λάθρᾳ τι κινοῦντα ὧν συνέθεντο πρὸς ἀλλήλους εἰς τὸ μὴ βλάπτειν μηδὲ βλάπτεσθαι, πιστεύειν ὅτι λήσει, κἂν μυριάκις ἐπὶ τοῦ παρόντος λανθάνῃ. μέχρι γὰρ καταστροφῆς ἄδηλον εἰ καὶ λήσει.

40. Those who were best able to provide themselves with the means of security against their neighbours, being thus in possession of the surest guarantee, passed the most agreeable life in each other's society ; and their enjoyment of the fullest intimacy was such that, if one of them died before his time, the survivors did not lament his death as if it called for commiseration.

40. Ὅσοι τὴν δύναμιν ἔσχον τοῦ τὸ θαρρεῖν μάλιστα ἐκ τῶν ὁμορούντων παρασκευάσασθαι, οὕτω καὶ ἐβίωσαν μετ᾽ ἀλλήλων ἥδιστα τὸ βεβαιότατον πίστωμα ἔχοντες, καὶ πληρεστάτην οἰκειότητα ἀπολαβόντες οὐκ ὠδύραντο ὡς πρὸς ἔλεον τὴν τοῦ τελευτήσαντος προκαταστροφήν.

It should be clear from these, and from a general reading of the surviving writings of Epicurus that he does not consider "belief" or confident knowledge to rest on his own authority, but in each case he explains the real foundation of that confidence--and this will rely on the canon, or on nature, or on some kind of observation or direct reasoning which he quickly lays forth. Take one controversial example: "First believe that God is a living being immortal and blessed, according to the notion of a god indicated by the common sense of mankind". Epicurus does not say "God is a living being immortal and blessed. Believe me." Instead, he says that the gods have those properties, and immediately gives the reader the foundation for thinking so; in this case, "the common sense of mankind". This sets the general pattern, which he follows pretty rigidly. Another example: "Accustom thyself to believe that death is nothing to us, for good and evil imply sentience, and death is the privation of all sentience ; therefore a right understanding that death is nothing to us makes the mortality of life enjoyable, not by adding to life an illimitable time, but by taking away the yearning after immortality." He spends a quarter of the sentence making a claim, and the next the quarters of the same sentence explaining the foundation of the claim.

So much for "believe". Now let's look at "me". I won't go into the Greek here with the word μοι, as I think a review of the translations shall be sufficient for this. It would be easy not to notice that this a word Epicurus very rarely uses--one might say he uses it only a very particular context. When Epicurus refers to himself, he is generally the subject of the sentence. "Hence, since such a course is of service to all who take up natural science, I, who devote to the subject my continuous energy and reap the calm enjoyment of a life like this, have prepared for you just such an epitome and manual of the doctrines as a whole."

The genuine irony is that on those occasions when Epicurus makes himself the object of a sentence, he is doing his utmost to highlight the affection, the "social ties" between himself and his friends. It is precisely on this point that Epictetus maligns him! He does this most particularly in three places--in the introduction of his letter to Pythocles, in his Will, and in his letter to Idomeneus.

Quote from The Introduction to the Letter to Pythocles

CLEON brought me a letter from you in which you continue to express a kindly feeling towards me, which is a just return for my interest in you, and you attempt with some success to recall the arguments which lead to a life of blessedness. You ask me to send you a brief argument about the phenomena of the sky in a short sketch, that you may easily recall it to mind. For you say that what I have written in my other works is hard to remember, even though, as you state, you constantly have them in your hands. I was glad to receive your request and felt constrained to answer it by pleasant expectations for the future.

Quote from The Will of Epicurus

And from the revenues made over by me to Amynomachus and Timocrates let them to the best of their power in consultation with Hermarchus make separate provision for the funeral offerings to my father, mother, and brothers, and for the customary celebration of my birthday on the tenth day of Gamelion in each year, and for the meeting of all my School held every month on the twentieth day to commemorate Metrodorus and myself according to the rules now in force. Let them also join in celebrating the day in Poseideon which commemorates my brothers, and likewise the day in Metageitnion which commemorates Polyaenus, as I have done previously.

[...]

Let them make Hermarchus trustee of the funds along with themselves, in order that everything may be done in concert with him, who has grown old with me in philosophy and is left at the head of the School. And when the girl comes of age, let Amynomachus and Timocrates pay her dowry, taking from the property as much as circumstances allow, subject to the approval of Hermarchus. Let them provide for Nicanor as I have done previously, so that none of those members of the school who have rendered service to me in private life and have shown me kindness in every way and have chosen to grow old with me in the School should, so far as my means go, lack the necessaries of life.

Quote from The Letter to Idomeneus

On this blissful day, which is also the last of my life, I write this to you. My continual sufferings from strangury and dysentery are so great that nothing could increase them; but I set above them all the gladness of mind at the memory of our past conversations. But I would have you, as becomes your lifelong attitude to me and to philosophy, watch over the children of Metrodorus.

-----------------------------------------------------

In conclusion: I cannot say whether the quotation attributed to Epicurus by Epictetus is wholly fabricated; but I say that it does not bear the stamp of Epicurus' own style; that it uses language which was not current in Epicurus' time; and that it is, at best, a badly rephrased and reworded quotation, if a genuine quotation at all. It bears repeating that Epictetus wrote nothing himself that survives--that what he had to say was delivered orally, and written down by a student--and that he lived several centuries after Epicurus, in a time when the reliability of Epicurus' critics is deeply questionable.

Very much right, Pacatus!

The Homeric Question will never have a satisfactory answer, but the growing consensus suggests an intimate relationship between Iliad, Odyssey, and the oral tradition of bardic singers from which those two great works arose. The Odyssey actually describes two such singers. People are capable of incredible memorization when the put their minds to it. I frequently encounter people--and quite ordinary people at that--who have hours and hours of song lyrics tucked away in their minds.

Songs are somewhat easier to remember than prose. They have a clear structure, sometimes a rhyme scheme, and very often a lot of repitition, whether in the lyrics of the chorus or in the melody if the verses.

Homer's epics were also meant to be remembered , in whole or in part, and to be performed by singers at court or in public. To help them remember, the epic verse has structure, in the form of its dactylic hexameter, and it has repitition. Most of the repitition is in the form of Homeric epithets; instead of saying Achilles, he writes "swift footed Achilles". Each main character has their epithets. "Lord of men Agamemnon", "Hector tamer of horses", and so on. The really central characters will have several epithets. This is important because the chosen epithet must match the hexameter of the line he plugs it into.

There may have been some improvisation involved in the very early period. A singer who knew the story of the war and also knew a number of stock phrases and epithets might well decide to play to his audience. All of these characters came from Greek places. If a singer was entertaining in Ithaca, he might choose to lay it on thick for the locals when he was describing the exploits of Odysseus, their native son.

All of this had changed by Lucretius' time. He wasn't writing a poem to be recited aloud to the song of the lyre. He was writing a philosophical poem, meant to be read deeply and repeatedly until his audience really got the point. He still uses hexameter, and he uses epithets for form's sake--"mother of the Aeneadins", "Mars mighty in battle"--but he's not writing a story about the adventures of men and gods. He doesn't expect his verses to be sung at lavish parties. He describes himself working late at night, by lamp or candle light, penning his lines. The process is long, laborious, and sometimes tedious. The hexameter is difficult and unyielding. If he can't make this one line work, he'll have to backtrack, and rework the preceding 3 or 4 lines. It is a devilishly intricate art, sometimes more like playing chess than writing--you have to be able to see a few moves ahead, or you write yourself into a corner.

So why the repitition? Here are some reasons.

• He thought it was exceptionally good. The yellow honey on the rim of the wormwood cup is one example of this. Those lines form basically his mission statement for the whole poem, and may be worth repeating to reinforce the point. "I know this stuff may not be easy to hear, but it really will help you. Just hear me out."
• He was writing on the same subject and it was easier to repeat the same lines. Virgil is guilty of this--there are lines from his Georgics that are repeated in his Aeneid. Or Norman DeWitt, who wrote several articles before he wrote his book. It's easier to adapt the articles into the book than to rewrite those sections.
• The repitition came long after he was dead. This is evidently true of the lines on the gods in Book I. It is thought that those lines were copied into the margin of Book I by a scribe from later in the poem. The scribes who followed him then moved those lines into the body of the text. Now we read them there, where the poet never intended to put them.

It may not be possible to know all of the answers.

Quote from Cassius

There's only one person who can settle this: We will have to consult Joshua on how the word is used in poetry!

I can't think of a poem off the top of my head; what 'rumination' instantly puts me in mind of is this passage by Bill Bryson from his book In a Sunburnt Country (one of the world's great audiobooks!):

(The length of the passage is very much part of the point)

"Eventually the radio dial presented only an uninterrupted cat’s hiss of static but for one clear spot near the end of the dial. At first I thought that’s all it was — just an empty clear spot — but then I realized I could hear the faint shiftings and stirrings of seated people, and after quite a pause, a voice, calm and reflective, said:

“Pilchard begins his long run in from short stump. He bowls and . . . oh, he’s out! Yes, he’s got him. Longwilley is caught legbefore in middle slops by Grattan. Well, now what do you make of that, Neville?”

“That’s definitely one for the books, Bruce. I don’t think I’ve seen offside medium-slow fast-pace bowling to match it since Badel-Powell took Rangachangabanga for a maiden ovary at Bangalore in 1948.”

I had stumbled into the surreal and rewarding world of cricket on the radio.

[…] it must be said there is something incomparably soothing about cricket on the radio. It has much the same virtues as baseball on the radio –an unhurried pace, a comforting devotion to abstruse statistics and thoughtful historical rumination, exhilarating micro-moments of real action – but stretched across many more hours and with a lushness of terminology and restful elegance of expression that even baseball cannot match. Listening to cricket on the radio is like listening to two men sitting in a rowing boat on a large, placid lake on a day when the fish aren’t biting: it’s like having a nap without losing consciousness. It actually helps not to know quite what’s going on. In such a rarefied world of contentment and inactivity, comprehension would become a distraction.

‘So here comes Stovepipe to bowl on this glorious summer’s afternoon at the MCG,’ one of the commentators was saying now. ‘I wonder if he’ll chance an offside drop scone here or go for the quick legover. Stovepipe has an unusual delivery in that he actually leaves the grounds and starts his run just outside the Carlton & United Brewery at Kooyong.’

‘That’s right, Clive. I haven’t known anyone start his delivery that far back since Stopcock caught his sleeve on the reversing mirror of a number 11 bus during the third test at Brisbane in 1957 and ended up at Goondiwindi four days later owing to some frightful confusion over a changed timetable at Toowoomba Junction.’

After a very long silence while they absorbed this thought, and possibly stepped out to transact some small errands, they resumed with a leisurely discussion of the England fielding. Neasden, it appeared, was turning in a solid performance at square bowel, while Packet had been a stalwart in the dribbles, though even these exemplary performances paled when set beside the outstanding play of young Hugh Twain-Buttocks at middle nipple. The commentators were in calm agreement that they had not seen anyone caught behind with such panache since Tandoori took Rogan Josh for a stiff at Vindaloo in ’61. At last, Stovepipe, having found his way over the railway line at Flinders Street – the footbridge was evidently closed for painting – returned to the stadium and bowled to Hasty, who deftly turned the ball away for a corner. This was repeated four times more over the next two hours and then one of the commentators pronounced: ‘So as we break for second luncheon, and with 11,200 balls remaining, Australia are 962 for two not half and England are four for a duck and hoping for rain.’

I may not have all the terminology exactly right, but that I believe I have caught the flavour of it."

Onenski made a very good point in our conversation this evening, when he mentioned that urbane Romans of the republic period did not customarily wear beards. This page from Lacus Curtius is an excellent summary of the situation; it outlines several conditions under which Roman men would cease shaving, a trend that started with Scipio Africanus who Pliny records as the first Roman to shave daily.

Roman men might not shave if:

• They are in mourning. Like wearing black, an unshaved beard in the Roman republic might mean that someone has died or something tragic has happened.
• They are of the lower classes. Not every Roman man could afford the time or money spent on a daily shave.
• They lived outside of the Capital city of Rome. These trends are seldom universal, and people who lived away from the main city might shave less often, or whenever they traveled to the city.
• They are boys who have not yet legally come of age. The ritual 'first shave' was part of the ceremony for assuming the Toga virilis.
• They are young men at the very end of the late republic period, and wear their beards short and well-trimmed. Cicero describes a certain class of Catiline conspirators this way;

Quote

There is a last class, last not only in number but in the sort of men and in their way of life; the especial body-guard of Catiline, of his levying; yes, the friends of his embraces and of his bosom; whom you see with carefully combed hair, glossy, beardless, or with well-trimmed beards; with tunics with sleeves, or reaching to the ankles; clothed with veils, not with robes; all the industry of whose life, all the labour of whose watchfulness, is expended in suppers lasting till daybreak. [23]

In these bands are all the gamblers, all the adulterers, all the unclean and shameless citizens. These boys, so witty and delicate, have learnt not only to love and to be loved, not only to sing and to dance, but also to brandish daggers and to administer poisons; and unless they are driven out, unless they die, even should Catiline die, I warn you that the school of Catiline would exist in the republic. But what do those wretches want? Are they going to take their wives with them to the camp? how can they do without them, especially in these nights? and how will they endure the Apennines, and these frosts, and this snow? unless they think that they will bear the winter more easily because they have been in the habit of dancing naked at their feasts. O war much to be dreaded, when Catiline is going to have his bodyguard of prostitutes!

Don, you're a wizard! Thank you very much for looking for that, I'll add it to my source collection.

I also want to add two passages from The Swerve by Stephen Greenblatt, regarding the motives of Italian humanists like Petrarch, Salutati, Leonardo Bruni, Niccolo Niccoli, and Poggio Bracciolini.

Quote

They saw themselves as adventurous explorers both in the physical world—the

mountains they crossed, the monastic libraries they investigated, the ruins they

dug up—and in their inner world of desire. The urgency of the enterprise reflects

their underlying recognition that there was nothing obvious or inevitable about

the attempt to recover or imitate the language, material objects, and cultural

achievements of the very distant past. It was a strange thing to do, far stranger

than continuing to live the ordinary, familiar life that men and women had lived

for centuries, making themselves more or less comfortable in the midst of the

crumbling, mute remains of antiquity.

Those remains were everywhere visible in Italy and throughout Europe:

bridges and roads still in use after more than a millennium, the broken walls and

arches of ruined baths and markets, temple columns incorporated into churches,

old inscribed stones used as building materials in new constructions, fractured

statues and broken vases. But the great civilization that left these traces had been

destroyed. The remnants could serve as walls to incorporate into new houses, as

reminders that all things pass and are forgotten, as mute testimony to the triumph

of Christianity over paganism, as literal quarries to be mined for precious stones

and metals. Generations of men and women, in Italy and elsewhere in Europe,

had developed effective techniques for the recycling of classical fragments, in

their writing as well as their building. The techniques bypassed any anxiety

about meddling with the leftovers of a pagan culture: as broken shards whether

of stone or of language, these leftovers were at once useful and unthreatening.

What more would anyone want with the rubble over which the living had

clambered for more than a thousand years?

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Niccoli was one of the first Europeans to collect antiquities as works of

art, prized possessions with which he surrounded himself in his Florentine

apartments. Such collecting is by now such a familiar practice among the very

rich that it is easy to lose sight of the fact that it was once a novel idea. Pilgrims

to Rome in the Middle Ages had long been accustomed to gawking at the

Colosseum and other “marvels” of paganism on their way to worshipping at the

places that actually mattered, the revered Christian shrines of saints and martyrs.

Niccoli’s collection in Florence represented a very different impulse: not the

accumulation of trophies but the loving appreciation of aesthetic objects.

As word got round that an eccentric man was willing to pay handsomely

for ancient heads and torsos, farmers who might in the past have burned any

marble fragments that they ploughed up for the lime they could extract from

them or used the old carved stones for the foundations of a pigsty began instead

to offer them for sale. On display in Niccoli’s elegant rooms, along with antique

Roman goblets, pieces of ancient glassware, medals, cameos, and other

treasures, the sculptures inspired in others the impulse to collect.

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There is another version of a cameo that resembles this but which is in much more detail and more attractive and I have long wondered if they were meant to be the same person. Maybe it's the one Joshua mentioned. Maybe it's this one from Herculaneum:

That is certainly a remarkably close match!

More random stuff on the Munro ring--which I should probably start calling the Nott ring.

A book published in 2020 called Engraved Gems and Propaganda in the Roman Republic and under Augustus includes this under an index of ancient gems, reports it as 'whereabouts unknown', but sites a previous German work for details.

The German work is Die antiken Gemmen in two volumes by Adolf Furtwängler, published in 1900.

The first volume has a plate displaying the gem:

And the second volume has this brief description:

Which I gather means something like:

Quote

4. Convex black Sard, formerly of the Nott collection. [Erw. Bull. d. Inst. 1831, 112, 78]

Head with short beard. Marginal note LVCR

Sard, like agate, is a form of Chalcedony. I have no idea what "Erw. Bull. etc" means--it looks like a reference to an earlier work? A museum bulletin or catalogue?

Cassius has helped me correct a few errors, so here is the new link: I'll delete the old one.

https://www.swisstransfer.com/d/b12fae33-82cb-4265-895e-ae5a4517dcab

Yes, I've already started preliminary work on the article. I would hesitate to put the slide show on any kind of permanent display since it's lacking all of the relevant citations.

"His time" meaning Lucretius' from everything I've read.

There was another Lucretius who was a "moneyer", a private individual permitted to mint coins. His name was Gneius Lucretius Trio, and its all over his coins. But in his case it was "CN LVCR".

I think I'll post my slides now, but I can still go through them later. The critical source was one I stumbled on by complete accident or really good googling, I'll let others be the judge

You can download the file from Swisstransfer here:

Edit to add: Cassius has informed of errors, see the new link in post #28 below.

This link will expire in 30 days.

The one I showed above was an Italian souvenir made for travelers on a Grand Tour.

Grand Tour - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

The Munro ring was thought by three experts in the 19th century to be a genuine ring from the late Roman republic. I don't know anything about the busts.

Here's another cameo in plaster that is supposed to be Lucretius.

c. 1820, Pietro Paoletti

As for Munro's ring, I have now traced its history for a period of more than 50 years. I will present my findings tomorrow evening

Curious And Unusual - The Busts in the Pincian Gardens

This webpage suggests that there were 52 such busts. An interesting read!

I'm coming up with a date range of 1859-1861 for the statue.

Edit to add;

Pincian Hill - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

Quote

In the gardens of the Pincian, it was Giuseppe Mazzini's (1805-1872) urging that lined the viali with busts of notable Italians.

Though the Villa Ludovisi was built over at the turn of the 20th century, several villas and their gardens still occupy the hill, including the Villa Borghese gardens, linked to the Pincio by a pedestrian bridge that crosses the via del Muro Torto in the narrow cleft below; the Muro Torto is the winding stretch of the Aurelian Wall, pierced by the Porta Pinciana.

The bust is evidently not ancient. The inscription has the Italian (rather than Latin) spelling of his name. I can't find much about it, though.