Seneca,

Your presupposed interlocutor’s question about retirement and the tenets of Epicureanism mirror concerns of my own.  We spoke previously about how we handle both the mandate to be a citizen of the world and personal retirement, or renunciation.

It’s still an issue I’m working over.  Previously, we discussed a retirement’s utility to training, and then to return to the world having instilled in ourselves the tenets of the school.  But in this letter, esp. as in the context of the twilight of life, it seems there is no return?

Either way, more food for thought.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

As you by now know, the ideas of retreat of have been on my mind now for months.  That’s an understatement, really.  It’s something I’ve been pondering off and on again for years.  Previously, the retreat was hidden in an urge to travel.  Of course, no problems are solved by travel, as you yourself have noted, as you take your problems with you.

Instead, the idea of retreat is to ply a special sort of attention to the maladies of the soul.

“If I were to show you a swollen foot, or an inflamed hand, or some shrivelled sinews in a withered leg, you would permit me to lie quiet in one place and to apply lotions to the diseased member.b But my trouble is greater than any of these, and I cannot show it to you. The abscess, or ulcer, is deep within my breast.”

I’m looking forward to the rest of your letter.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

The three categories of goods, if we can dispense for the third which is not a proper good, is useful here.  We might rephrase the categories:

Type A:  Goods we want regardless of circumstance
    – Wisdom, courage, justice, fortitude, etc.

Type B:  Goods we want in specific circumstances
    – Endurance under torture, self-control under illness, bravery and lack of perturbation in the face of death, etc.

Of course, it can be said the Type B are merely applications of A.  This may need to be restructured.  The point being, that while torture itself is not something to be wished for, should we stubble to it, we should hope to have the courage, bravery, honor, and equanimity of spirit that the good man would have under such a condition.

I remember reading a blog sometime ago, about a fellow who was a practicing Stoic.  He had been practicing for some number of years, and he was told he might have a medical issue which would take from him the sight of one eye.

He mentioned that not only was he calm in the face of this news, a piece of him was moved at the opportunity to express virtue under this new test, this circumstance of blindness in one eye.

I’m not at all entirely sure that’s the most proper outlook for one making progress, it seems to run into this injunction on proper training from Epictetus:

“We ought not to train ourselves in unnatural or extraordinary actions, for in that case we who claim to be philosophers shall be no better than mountebanks. For it is difficult to walk on a tight-rope, and not only difficult but dangerous as well…”

—Epictetus, Discourses III.12:

Seneca, you yourself also seem to tend away from this form of extreme practice.  It’ certainly something to think about.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

Even here in the last part of your letter we find a trace of Aristo’s position, that there are no preferred nor dispreferred indifferents:  merely indifferents.

If in one situation we might “prefer” the harder, then the preference isn’t a natural one, as the standard Stoic position states.  It’s not merely health, wealth, and high birth:  but we might prefer that which trains our souls:  the harder.

I intend to write an essay here before too long on Aristo’s position.  He was a contemporary of Zeno, and his position was subsumed in the standard Zenoian one.

But maybe, he was right.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

“To explain my thought briefly, the material with which a good is concerned is sometimes contrary to nature, but a good itself never is contrary, since no good is without reason, and reason is in accordance with nature.”

The fact that by defintion, indifferents are not goods, but the manner in which we handle indifferents can be is often overlooked.  This is the basis of the ascetic training of Musonius, Epictetus, and Marcus.  It’s well worth remembering.

It seems as if you are setting up three categories of goods, primary, secondary, and tertiary.  It’s important to note, as you’ve said, that the primary ones are not more virtuous than the secondary, it’s maybe better to call them Type A, B, and C then primary.

Type A:
– victory
– good children,
– the welfare of one’s country.

Type B:
these become manifest only in adversity,
– equanimity in enduring severe illness or exile.

Type C: Certain goods are indifferent; these are no more according to nature than contrary to nature,
– a discreet gait
– sedate posture in a chair.

I’m going to assume these are descriptive categories, and not prescriptive types.  In fact, I’d only want to call Types A and B goods per se.  I’m pretty sure Type C misses the mark for Stoic criteria for goods.  I’m sure certain folks, or parts of society, would call Type C goods, but a philosopher should not, as you note:  they’re indifferents.

The issue might be one of terminology, the common use of good and the philosophical.  Despite the already jargony nature of Stoic discourse, it might be better to use the Greek for these words: ἀγαθός (agathos) — good or καλός (kalos) — beautiful, good.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

It’s easier to accept that all the virtues are equal, probably because we’re less familiar with them.  When we hear that a white lie we make casually is akin to murder, we shy away.  Probably because we’re far more familiar with the “little evil.”  But there’s no such case, because that lie in fact murders our character.

Worse yet, we have trained our moral will, or προαίρεσις, to make such choices in the future.

“Any man who believes them to be unequal is turning away from the virtues themselves and is surveying mere externals; true goods have the same weight and the same width.”

This small selection is worth of pointing out, and contemplating frequently.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

“Reason, however, is nothing else than a portion of the divine spirit set in a human body.  If reason is divine, and the good in no case lacks reason, then the good in every case is divine. And furthermore, there is no distinction between things divine; hence there is none between goods, either.”

Every once in a while, I think I’m starting to get a handle on what Stoic virtue is.  Of course, I know the pat definitions… but really understanding it?  No, not yet.

I was thinking the other day on progress, and how if we Stoics had a conception of heretical doctrines, I subscribe to two of them.  The one is essay-fodder for a later date, but the other is the idea of progress.

I wrote about it yesterday, making a case for progress in Stoicism.  but this morning I was thinking about it, and I realized that this is not a position I can reasonably disagree with yet.  I might not like it, but I don’t have grounds to disagree with it.

I’ve read that’s probable that the folks of the Early Stoa (Zeno, Cleanthes, Chryssipus) likely believed themselves to be Sages, but sometime between then and the Late, Roman Stoa, the idea of of the Sage had changed somewhat, and our sources seem to no longer believe themselves (and probably not the Early Stoa as well) to be Sages.  We see that in the comments that say we have not yet seen a Sage.

My suspicion i that the Early Stoa, still being heavily influenced by Zeno’s Cynicism, saw a more practical virtue.  Cynic virtue seems easier to attain than the Stoic conception of it.

Which brings me back  to my disagreement on progress.  I don’t like the idea of no progress, the true binary and “road to Damascus”-style conversion to wisdom.

But I haven’t been there.  Without having been there, how can I saw the path looks different than others have said it does?  I’ll have to suspend judgment on the issue of progress for the time being.

Maybe sometime in the few weeks we’ll look at the other “Stoic heresy” that I favor.  (;

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

The discussion of virtue is one which is interesting.  It’s difficult sometimes to grok the concept.  Like your example of a household or person being dyed in the quality of virtue, our modern conception of virtue is dyed in the Abrahamic context of the previous two millennia.

The Stoic position of a hard binary between virtue and vice, with no admission of progress is a tough hurdle.  It also seems to belie the experience of most folks.  We can see changes in our thinking, our actions, our intent.  We can see how we handle impressions differently.  Yet, this is no progress?

We can see ourselves renouncing the apparent goods of the world, with our attentions focused on what’s “up to us.”  Yet, this is no progress?

I see your point that what is perfect cannot be made better, and if better occurs, it’s because some defect was present — but here eve we see a change towards the good.  Why not call this progress?

The lack of progress produces a sense of urgency, but the non-Sage sometimes likes gold stars for good work, and a pat on the end.  Of course, the Sage would not need these things…

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

Ah, well it seems you and I have come to the same conclusion regarding Plato’s causes.  The fact that theology, since this is what we’re discussing in this letter, is a core part of our school’s philosophy is an unpleasant truth for some.

Whether it can be dispensed with entirely, or replaced, is not as important to me as whether it ought to be.  I have a paper I’ve been writing as an aid to my study of Stoic theology, and I’ve taken liberally from your Letters and Essays, Seneca, in documenting the Stoic position.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

I quite like the Stoic position of a unitary material with two aspects:  πνεῦμα and matter.  The enlivening Logos, the organizing principle of the universe is a beautiful idea.  I do not as much like Plato’s five-part division of causes, as you’ve presented it.  Certainly, it is true that without the various things which he labels causes, the existent things … wouldn’t.  But, that doesn’t make them causes per se.

I may be re-inventing the wheel, here.  But…

From a Stoic perspective, I would challenge the Platonic doctrine and make this change:  There is one cause:  ὁ λόγος.  Full stop. 

But the observations of Plato as to the nature of things which exist is worthy of note.  I would propose to call those “constituents,”  not causes.  The existence of things which depend on constituent bodies would then be co-fated in a Chrysippean sense.  Without the timely presence of the co-fated things, existing bodies, simply put, wouldn’t.

This incorporates a keen observation of nature of behalf of Plato, and incorporates it in a Stoic appropriate way.

I’m looking forward to the rest of your letter tomorrow.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.