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Published online by Cambridge University Press: 05 March 2021
It may be agreed that the character of Medea, one of the most intertextual heroines of the Graeco-Roman literary tradition, is a veritable crucible of the most disparate emotions, as the articles gathered in this issue aim to show. In Seneca's Medea, readers encounter a murderous mother who kills her own children, giving in to destructive anger or, rather, fury. This emotion has been widely and extensively studied both in relation to its Greek model, Euripides’ Medea, and in the light of the Stoic view on passions, so that it can be acknowledged as one of the most salient features of the Roman character's emotional profile from a literary and philosophical standpoint. Although both Medeas, while struggling within themselves in their famous monologues, debate whether they should or should not kill their children, Euripides’ heroine does not seem to murder them out of anger: she repeatedly claims that a pressing necessity urges her to do so; by contrast, the Senecan Medea lets her anger literally lead the way (ira, qua ducis, sequor; 953). They both describe the filicide they are about to commit as a sacrificial act (compare Eur. Med. 1053‒4: ὅτῳ δὲ μὴ / θέμις παρεῖναι τοῖς ἐμοῖσι θύμασιν, ‘whoever is not permitted to attend my sacrifice’ and Sen. Med. 970‒1: uictima manes tuos / placamus ista, ‘with this victim we placate / your spirit’), but Seneca's character is pushed towards it by the dreadful hallucinations of the Furies and the shadow of her brother approaching (958‒66), which certainly contributes to heightening the disquieting atmosphere of the play: his Medea ultimately appears as a much ‘darker’ and bleaker version of the Euripidean counterpart, also emerging as a full-blown villain, by whom readers are both repelled and fascinated. In addition to this, the vocabulary of extreme passions recurring throughout the play and the heights of anger that the Senecan Medea reaches represent some of the most noticeable variations on the Greek model, not to mention a famous portrait of the heroine by the Nurse (382‒96), which strikingly resembles that of the angry man depicted by Seneca in De ira 1.1.3‒5. In these pages, however, instead of focusing on the notorious ira and furor of Seneca's Medea, I intend to concentrate on another and yet quite strongly related emotion: joy. In general, it may be noted that the bodily felt responses brought about by both anger and joy have in common the category of expansion, unlike fear and sadness (or grief), in which there is a tendency towards contraction. To my knowledge, the emotion of joy in Seneca's play has not received much attention thus far, owing perhaps to the fact that, as mentioned, anger literally steals the limelight. Therefore, I will here attempt to delve into this emotion, which appears to characterize Medea's criminal deeds, especially towards the end of the play, with a view to bringing to the fore its nuances and function. Although joy, at first glance, may seem to be extraneous to a tragic plot staging a filicide, since it is usually associated with good or positive events, it will be argued that this emotion (also verging on pleasure) is particularly fitting for the Senecan character, in that it takes a ‘perverted’ and monstrous form in the play, even coming to distort some concepts central to the Stoic doctrine.
1 I refer here, of course, to Hinds, S., ‘Medea in Ovid: Scenes from the Life of an Intertextual Heroine’ MD 30 (1993), 9‒47Google Scholar.
2 Seneca appears to be in the unique position of being both a philosopher and a tragic poet, although there is still an ongoing debate as to the paternity of the tragic corpus preserved under his name: see e.g. Graver, M., ‘Pre-Emotions and Reader Emotions in Seneca’, Maia 69 (2017), 282Google Scholar, who finds that ‘there are important methodological reasons not to try to pull the intelligence that produced the plays into a single interpretive frame with the author whom we meet in the treatises and letters’. Nonetheless, in these pages I will consider Seneca as the author of both the tragedies and the philosophical works. To understand some of the issues of the complex relationship between Seneca's plays and Stoic philosophy, see e.g. Nussbaum, M., ‘Serpents in the Soul: A Reading of Seneca's Medea’, in Clauss, J. and Johnston, S. I. (eds.), Medea. Essays on Medea in Myth, Literature, Philosophy, and Art (Princeton, NJ, 1997), 219‒49Google Scholar; Gill, C., ‘Two Monologues of Self-Division: Euripides, “Medea” 1021‒80 and Seneca, “Medea” 893‒977’, in Whitby, M., Hardie, P., and Whitby, M. (eds.), Homo Viator. Essays for John Bramble (Bristol, 1987), 25‒37Google Scholar; Müller, J., ‘Did Seneca Understand Medea? A Contribution to the Stoic Account of Akrasia’, in Wildberger, J. and Colish, M. L. (eds.), Seneca Philosophus (Berlin and Boston, MA, 2014), 65‒94CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Battistella, C. and Nelis, D., ‘Some Thoughts on the Anger of Seneca's Medea’, in Cairns, D. and Nelis, D. (eds.), Emotions in the Classical World. Methods, Approaches, and Directions (Stuttgart, 2017), 245‒56Google Scholar. See also Boyle, A. J., Seneca. Medea (Oxford, 2014), liv‒lxGoogle Scholar; Star, C., ‘Seneca Tragicus and Stoicism’, in Dodson-Robinson, E. (ed.), Brill's Companion to the Reception of Senecan Tragedy (Leiden and Boston, MA, 2016), 34‒56Google Scholar; Torre, C., ‘Una passione teatrale: visualità, illusionismo e mimesi dell'ira in Seneca’, in Neri, L. (ed.), La rappresentazione dell'ira tra letteratura, teatro e filosofia (Rome, 2020), 55‒83Google Scholar.
3 See e.g. Eur. Med. 1240‒41.
4 All translations of Euripides’ Medea are taken from D. Kovacs (ed. and trans.), Euripides. Cyclops; Alcestic; Medea (Cambridge, MA, 1994). All translations of Seneca's Medea are taken from Boyle (n. 2).
5 On this, apart from n. 2 above, see also E. Sanders, ‘The Emotions of Medea: An Introduction’, G&R current issue, n. 12.
6 On this, see e.g. R. Plutchik, The Emotions (Lanham, MD, 1991), 87.
7 Joy, enjoyment, pleasure, excitement, and happiness are some of the words commonly used in English to express ‘good feelings’. A little clarification of terminology is perhaps needed at this juncture: joy and happiness are both emotional responses to processes of accomplishment and, although these two concepts sometimes overlap, they present a different temporal structure and are related to different forms of self-realization. Generally speaking, there is consensus that ‘joy’ points to the episodic character of the affective event and is strongly bound to the present moment, whereas ‘happiness’ is tied to the end of the process of accomplishment and is much more based on an evaluative/judgemental stance, thus implying a connection with ethics/morality. On this, see now M. Summa, ‘Joy and Happiness’, in T. Szanto and H. Landweer (eds.), The Routledge Handbook of Phenomenology of Emotion (Abingdon and New York, 2020, 416–25) with further bibliography (Summa's analysis is particularly useful to understand joy and happiness in a phenomenological context. I thank the author for kindly letting me have a copy of her article). This terminological and conceptual distinction may apply to the arguments of these pages as well; however, I will primarily look at joy and pleasure in Seneca's Medea by placing these affective states within a Stoic framework (on their difference, see later in the article). Interestingly, according to modern theories, pleasure is not usually regarded as an emotion, for it does not imply any cognitive scenario (see A. Wierzbicka, Emotions across Languages and Cultures. Diversity and Universals [Cambridge, 1999], 56; on joy 50‒9), a view that is similar to that of Aristotle: he considers pleasure, and also pain, not as proper emotions, but as constituent elements accompanying emotions (e.g. Rh. 2.1 and 2.2.2, quoted below). On the other hand, according to the Stoic doctrine, which is ‘anti-hedonist’ par excellence, pleasure is classified as one of the four generic/basic emotions (together with desire, fear and pain; see also later in the article and n. 34) and gets in the way of happiness, making a person unhappy. For more details on this, see e.g. K. M. Vogt, ‘What is Hedonism?’, in W. V. Harris (ed.), Pain and Pleasure in Classical Times (Leiden and Boston, MA, 2018), 93‒110.
8 On Medea's monstrosity, see P. A. Lima, ‘Monstrous Emotions in Seneca's Medea’ G&R current issue; see also G. A. Staley, Seneca and the Idea of Tragedy (Oxford, 2010), esp. ch. 5 ‘Reading Monsters’, 96‒120.
9 For a comparative approach to the two plays, see e.g. T. Ohlander, Dramatic Suspense in Euripides’ and Seneca's Medea (New York, 1989). I align myself with the view according to which Seneca's plays can be defined as (tendentious and pointed) ‘rewritings’ rather than ‘translations’ of the works of his predecessors. Such a circumstance may be applied to his Medea too: given that the source text is preserved, it is possible for us to look into the ways that Seneca has worked on it and ‘gauge’ to what extent he has modified it. On this, see e.g. C. Battistella, ‘The Ambiguous Virtus of Seneca's Medea’, Maia 69 (2017), 268 and n. 2 (with further bibliography). Seneca's intertextuality in the plays, however, implies an intense dialogue, not only with the Greek models, but also with the Augustan poets, as C. Trinacty, Senecan Tragedy and the Reception of Augustan Poetry (Oxford, 2014), has recently shown. On Seneca's rewritings or, rather, palimpsestic texts, see also A. J. Boyle, Tragic Seneca. An Essay in the Theatrical Tradition (London and New York, 2003), 90.
10 Graver (n. 2), 284.
11 On Stoicism and Seneca's plays, see e.g. B. Marti, ‘Seneca's Tragedies: A New Interpretation’, TAPhA 76 (1945), 216‒45; N. Pratt, Seneca's Drama (Chapel Hill, NC, 1983); A. Schiesaro, The Passions in Play. Thyestes and the Dynamics of Senecan Drama (Cambridge, 2003), esp. 228 ff.; G. A. Staley, Seneca and the Idea of Tragedy (Oxford, 2010). In recent times, Christopher Star has shown that Seneca's characters have recourse to the Stoic method of self-address and self-command to pursue un-Stoic aims: see ‘Commanding Constantia in Senecan Tragedy’, TAPhA 136 (2006), 207‒44; and The Empire of the Self. Self-Command and Political Speech in Seneca and Petronius (Baltimore, MD, 2012). See also Battistella (n. 9); C. Battistella, ‘La colère en scene: quelques réflexions sur la Médée de Sénèque, entre dramaturgie et philosophie’, Latomus 77 (2018), 59‒73.
12 Boyle (n. 2), ad loc. duly signals the dark irony suggested by the adjective. See also Med. 25‒6: parta iam, parta ultio est: / peperi (‘it's born now – vengeance – born: / I've given birth’).
13 Ibid., 353.
14 On joy in ancient drama in general, see now the recent volume M. De Poli (ed.), Il teatro delle emozioni. La gioia (Padua, 2019; esp. L. Di Raimo, ‘Gioia simulata e gioia indotta: il godimento della vendetta in Seneca tragico’, 313‒26). On revenge in Greek culture and literature, see A. Pippin Burnett, Revenge in Attic and Later Tragedy (Berkeley, CA, 1998). See also Eur. Bacch. 1033 (the chorus rejoices in listening to the details of Pentheus’ dismemberment); Eur. Hec. 1258 with J. Mossman, Wild Justice. A Study of Euripides’ Hecuba (Oxford, 1995), 190; Cassandra's joy in Sen. Ag. 870‒3, 1011 (she considers herself lucky in that she has survived the fall of Mycenae, also hinting at the future resurrection of Troy). Virgil's Aeneas, despite occasionally giving in to anger, only seldom rejoices in taking revenge upon his enemies: see e.g. Aen. 10.787, in which he appears laetus at the sight of Mezentius’ blood, since that enemy is a contemptor deorum; 2.587‒8, where he relishes the idea of killing Helen: animumque explesse iuuabit / ultricis famae et cineres satiasse meorum (‘and it will be a joy to have filled my soul with the flame of revenge and satisfied the ashes of my people’; translation from H. R. Fairclough [ed. and trans.], Virgil. Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid 1–6 [Cambridge, MA, 1916]) with J. Fish, ‘Anger, Philodemus’ Good King, and the Helen Episode of Aeneid 2.567–89: A New Proof of Authenticity from Herculaneum’, in D. Armstrong, J. Fish, P. A. Johnston, and M. B. Skinner (eds.), Vergil, Philodemus, and the Augustans (Austin, TX, 2004), 119‒21.
15 Pippin Burnett (n. 14), 193, defines it as ‘a complex program of slaughter that ends in the intentional killing of her two sons’.
16 See also Arist. Rh. 1.11.
17 Translation from J. H. Freese (ed. and trans.), Aristotle. Art of Rhetoric (Cambridge, MA, 1926).
18 On this, see D. Cairns, ‘The Dynamics of Emotion in Euripides’ Medea’, G&R current issue.
19 As Pippin Burnett (n. 14), 219, notes, Medea ‘has the satisfaction of knowing that they [i.e. the children] were also dear to this man who lightly dissolved the union that defined them as his’.
20 As pointed out by D. Boedeker, ‘Euripides’ Medea and the Vanity of ΛΟΓΟΙ’, CP 86 (1991), 107, the death of Creon and his daughter is the happy part of Medea's plan, which however also has a more painful sequel.
21 The repetition of iuuat (‘I'm glad’), which incidentally is not uncommon, appears also in Sen. Ag. 1011, where it refers to Cassandra's joy after Agamemnon's murder (iam iam iuuat uixisse post Troiam iuuat, ‘now, now it's sweet to have outlived Troy – sweet’; translation from A. J. Boyle [ed. and trans.], Seneca. Agamemnon [Oxford, 2020]).
22 Such a claim represents, as it were, Medea's evaluative/judgemental stance on her actions and life as a whole, from which her ultimate happiness will derive: it looks as if, for her, not having regrets is the key to a happy life. On these concepts, see Summa (n. 7); see also Wierzbicka (n. 7), 53, on happiness as being dependent on some form of cognitive appraisal.
23 See Star 2006 and 2012 (n. 11), esp. Star 2006.
24 Line 1016 might also echo Eur. Med. 1133 (quoted above): the Euripidean Medea wants the messenger to slow down his speech in order to get more pleasure from it; the Senecan character makes sure to execute her very last crime slowly.
25 Translation from F. J. Miller (ed. and trans.), Seneca. Tragedies (Cambridge, MA, 1917).
26 It may be suggested that the ‘bipartite’ structure of the filicide scene in Seneca's play could also be ascribed to the character's enhanced ‘creativity’: she looks more powerful than the Euripidean counterpart and more prone to experiencing joy in the process of achievement (in general, for the connection of joy with self-realization, see Summa [n. 7]).
27 See Ov. Met. 6.653 dissimulare nequit crudelia gaudia Procne (‘Procne cannot hide her cruel joy’; translation from F. J. Miller [ed. and trans.], Ovid. Metamorphoses, Volume I. Books I–VIII, rev. G. P. Goold [Cambridge, MA, 1984]); see also Philomela's wish that she could speak again to express her joy (659‒60).
28 In the tragedy, the killing occurs inside, but, as already said, Euripides’ Medea does not display joy either immediately before or immediately after the filicide. It is useful to refer also to Euripides’ Hippolytus, where Theseus, upon hearing that his son's body has been entirely dismembered, proclaims his joy (hesthen); however, he also observes that, out of respect for the gods, he will neither rejoice (hedomai) nor grieve himself (1257‒60). Interestingly, in Seneca's rewriting, Theseus starts weeping because of the blood tie (sanguinis uinclo), declaring that he wanted the death of his guilty son, but he is now mourning him (occidere uolui noxium, amissum fleo; 1117), thus showing pity towards him. Medea's children are clearly by no means guilty in the same way that Hippolytus is for allegedly violating his stepmother, Phaedra.
29 In a well-known passage of his Poetics (1453b14‒26) Aristotle points out that pity and fear are brought about in tragedy not by having enemies or neutrals fighting against each other, but specifically in the display of disrupted family relationships (philia), where brother kills brother, son kills father, mother kills son, or son kills mother.
30 Translation from H. W. Smyth (ed. and trans.), Aeschylus. Agamemnon. Vol. 2 (Cambridge, MA, 1971).
31 See also Medea's words to Jason in Ov. Her. 12.21‒2: est aliqua ingrato meritum exprobrare uoluptas. / hac fruar; haec de te gaudia sola feram (‘I'll take what pleasure there is in attacking the ingratitude of someone who's been helped – the only joy I'll get from you’; translation from P. Murgatroyd, B. Reeves, and S. Parker [eds. and trans.], Ovid's Heroides. A New Translation and Critical Essays [London, 2017]), in which uoluptas and gaudia seem to be used as synonyms (and see F. Bessone, P. Ovidii Nasonis. Heroidum Epistula XII, Medea Iasoni [Florence, 1997], 93). On the generally negative meaning of uoluptas, see e.g. F. R. Berno, Lo specchio, il vizio e la virtù. Studio sulle Naturales Quaestiones di Seneca (Bologna, 2003), 182 n. 10.
32 M. Graver, ‘Anatomies of Joy: Seneca and the Gaudium Tradition’, in R. R. Caston and R. A. Kaster (eds.), Hope, Joy, and Affection in the Classical World (Oxford, 2016), 123, 126, and passim.
33 See S. Bartsch, The Mirror of the Self. Sexuality, Self-Knowledge, and the Gaze in the Early Roman Empire (Chicago, IL, 2006), 185 n. 4.
34 The Old Stoa differentiated between chara and hedone, corresponding to gaudium and uoluptas respectively: chara is the proper Stoic response to any manifestation of good and belongs to the so-called eupatheiai or, in Cicero's words, constantiae, whereas hedone is classed under the four primary emotions and is, thus, a perturbation of the soul (pathos) and, as such, to be avoided. On this, see e.g. R. P. Haynes, ‘The Theory of Pleasure of the Old Stoa’, AJPh 83 (1962), 412‒19. Graver (n. 32), 128‒9, observes that Seneca, however, does not have the term eupatheia or an equivalent in his philosophical works. On Seneca's view of pleasure and joy, see also A. L. Motto, ‘Seneca on Pleasure’, Helmantica 47 (1996), 17‒31 (now in A. L. Motto, Further Essays on Seneca [Frankfurt am Main, 2001]); J. Wildberger, ‘Ethics IV: Wisdom and Virtue’, in G. Damschen and A. Heil, Brill's Companion to Seneca. Philosopher and Dramatist (Leiden and Boston, MA, 2014), 301‒22.
35 See Star 2006 (n. 11), 241.
36 On this see e.g. Battistella (n. 9).
37 She utters eloquent words after the death of the first child (986‒7): perfectum est scelus; / uindicta nondum (‘your crime is complete – / but not revenge’).
38 Translations of the Letters are from R. M. Gummere (ed. and trans.), Seneca. Epistles. Volume I (Cambridge, MA, 2014).
39 Boyle (n. 2), 371.
40 See 1019‒20: plura non habui, dolor, / quae tibi litarem (‘I had nothing more, my pain, to sacrifice to you’). As Seneca observes in De ira 1.6.5, the good man does not rejoice in punishment (uir bonus poena non gaudet).
41 Medea almost seems to put into practice the suggestion that Seneca gives to Lucilius in Ep. 23.3 about learning how to feel joy (disce gaudere): while at line 991 she admits that a great pleasure pervades her against her will (me inuitam), a few lines later (1016) she enjoins herself to relish her crime slowly.
42 On the effect of alienation, see Star (n. 2), 50.