Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity A intelligent reader capable of making informed and independent judgements. Plutarch’s repudiation of Platonic views of mimésis, then, is founded upon his confidence in the acuity and sophistication of contemporary reading practice. ‘The readmission of mimetic art to the ideal society is premised upon a sense of satisfaction with cultural activity in the here and now. In rescuing mimésis as an ethically beneficial phenomenon, Plutarch affirms the positive benefits of life in a ‘secondary’ society, a world in which literary posterity inspires a sense of mature reflection upon and profound comprehension of literary artistry and technique. SUBLIME MIMESIS I turn now to perhaps the most celebrated and tantalizing peda- gogical text of the Roman period, the tract On the sublime (De subl.), attributed in the archetypal manuscripts both to ‘Dionysius “Longinus”’ and to ‘Dionysius or “Longinus” but usually held to have been the work of an unknown writer of some distinction in the first century cr.” This text, profoundly influential on later aesthetics (and in particular upon the anti-materialist Romanti- cism of the eighteenth century)” has in recent years been recon- sidered as an important document of Greek ideology and cultural history.”! Given the radical uncertainty about dating, there are great potential pitfalls in such an approach; nevertheless, the text is evidently a product of Roman Greece (the addressee is a Roman), and the text can be seen to intersect nicely with the con- cerns we have traced thus far in the literature of the early princi- pate with authenticity, mimesis, and cultural continuity. For ‘Longinus’, mimesis of the great writers of the past achieves a similar effect to the intoxicating transport enacted by the sacred exhalations at Delphi: On the ascription, see Russell (1964), xxii-xxx and Russell (1981), 64-6; on the dating see Hiusler (1995); and esp. Heath (1999), who shows how fragile 1s the ‘ease for rejecting Longinian authorship (without, however, convincingly demon- strating the converse). ‘The author will henceforth be referred to as ‘Longinus', notwithstanding doubts over authorship (which do not substantially affect the argument here). 39 Sce esp. Hertz (1983). For further bibliography on the influence of ‘Longinus’, see Ashfield and de Bolla, eds. (1996), 307. 7 See esp. Too (1998), 188-207.58 The Politics of Imitation Plato, if we are willing to pay attention, manifests yet another path to sublimity, besides those discussed. What is this? ‘The way of imitation (mimesis) and emulation (s2ldsis) of great writers of the past. Here too, my friend, is an aim to which we must hold fast. Many are possessed by a spirit not their own, just as (so we are told) the Pythia is: she draws close to the tripod near the chasm in the ground, from which (so they say) a divine vapour is exhaled, and she is thereby made pregnant by the divine power and prophesies, inspired. Similarly, effluences are emitted into the souls of emulators from the genius of the ancients, as though from a sacred cleft. Eelevvrar 8° Hyiiv obros divip, et Bovdoijedla wij arodrywpely, ds Kal Ey Tis rapa 7a cipnuéva SSbs ent rd tybqd retves. mola 8€ xai ris abrn; (i) rév Eampooter peyddww ovyypapéew wai nomrdy piynals re «at Lidwars. al ye rotrov, pidrare, dmpié excieBa roi axérov. oho! yap éMorplot Beopopoivrar mveipar rav abrév xpémoy év wal ry [luBlav Abyos Exes tpé03: myoudloveay, &10a pijynd core yiis dvamvdor, chs paow, dzpév évBeov, ai7d0er eyripova ris Baoviov xabtarapérny Suvdpens wapaurixa xpnopundety kar? trims. obrws dad ris rau dpyaiuv peyaoprias els rds rv Lydobvrar exeivous puxas ds did fepdv aropiaw dmdpporat rwves deportes. (13.2) Although ‘Longinus’ is referring to the imitation of Homer by Classical authors (Plato, Herodotus, Stesichorus, Archilochus), his analysis of the effects of mimésis” have important ramifications for the cultural positioning of Roman Greece, too. Indeed, at the beginning of the following section, the author explicitly points to the moral: ‘therefore we too’ (oBxoiv Kai huds) should imitate not only Homer, but also Plato, Demosthenes, and ‘Thucydides. In Too's words, ‘[t]he Longinian sublime presents imitation (mimésis) as a strategy . . . for the reclamation of past authors and the literary tradition that make the sublime possible’.”’ The metaphors the passage cited above indicate that imitation is an organic, indeed mystical, means of maintaining the vitality of the past in the present. Although (as Russell observes) the metaphor of literary composition as ‘inspired? is widespread,” it plays a crucial role here, and for two reasons. First, in a Platonic context, it is appropriate to employ Platonic imagery: Plato is the canonical instigator of such an association between inspiration and composi tion, and moreover the use of the word ‘divine’ (Sazoviov) reminds used in 7 [ere used in conjunction with, but not obviously differentiated from, 22/asts emulation’): see Russell (1964), 113 on the conventional distmnetion "Too (1998), 210. % Russell (1964), 115.Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity $9 the reader of Socrates’ inspiration by ‘the divine’ (73 Saydveav).75 Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, this constitutes an important intervention in the identity-defining debates this chapter is tracing concerning the relationship between Roman Greck society and its literary and cultural past. By imaging the relationship in terms of the Pythia and ‘divine power’, ‘Longinus’ is indicating the passive dependence of the one upon the other. Indeed, we can go further: the reference to the ‘impregnation’ of the Pythia, linking literary with biological fecundity (albeit indirectly),’° implies a ‘natural’ relationship of submission to paternal authority. ‘The text to be imitated is a ‘father-text'’, imbued with generative potency (as Harold Bloom emphasizes, ‘modernity’ has since the Hellenistic period been expressed in terms of an epigonal relationship with Homer).”” Despite the genea- logical imagery, however, mim@sis does not construct a simple, self-evidently genctic relationship with the past. ‘Longinus’ presents it as an eccentric aberration from rationality, a divine pos- ion: it involves being consumed by a spirit that is ‘not one’s own’, ‘other’ (4Morpéon). The paternal text dominates the imitator, inseminating him or her with an alien presence. So the literary filiation engendered by mimesis is, according to On the sublime, complex: the relationship between imitator and se 75 “So far as Hellenistic and Roman writers are concerned, the chief sources of, the doctrine [sic] are Plato... and Democritus’ (Russell 1964: 114). For Plato on, Iiterature and divine inspiration, see Phaedr. 2452, ¢; Ton 533-1; Men. 99e-d; for Socrates’ possession by ‘the divine’ (78. Baydviov) see Euthyphr. 3b; Apol. 316; Euthyd. 2720; Phaedr. 242b; ef. voiees in the head at Cr. 534; also Xen. pol 1o-14. Plato never uses 73 Sayidviov as a noun, only as a substantivized adyective (see Burnet 1924: 96-7; with p. 245 on Cr. goa, probably an interpolation); by Roman times, however, Sayadvwor 1s # neuter noun and associated with Socrates inner voice (see e.g. Plutarch’s essay mepi roi Euxpdzous Sayoriov). ‘Longinus though, uses the word in the Classical form as an adjective (though ax 2 two- termination form, a largely unclassical morphology): see 9.5; 9.8 33.5 for the ‘Platonic’, substantivized usage; and 35.25 43.1 for the adjectival usage %© "The metaphorical language of procreation runs throughout On the sublime: see 65 7.257.45 8.15 9-15 13.25 13.45 14.3; 31-85 44.3; and further, Walsh (1988), 266. Bloom (1975), 33-4: ‘everyone who now reads and writes in the West, of, whatever racial background, sex or ideological camp, is still a son or daughter of Homer . .. We are Alexandrians still” For ‘father Homer’, see Nonn, Dion. 25,265 (carps Opsipou), and the strategic use of the motsf of the “bastard!” (vé@os) through- out his text (see Hopkinson r994a: 127; 19946: esp. 9-14). The theme 1s, however, no doubt much older: as noted by Hopkinson (19948), 35. n. 37, the notion of Homer as a ‘father’ is already implicit in the name Opypida: or ‘children of [ome given to thapsodes. On the theme of the ‘anxiety of influence’ in Roman Greece, further Schmitz (1997), 224-:60 The Politics of Imitation imitate is divine and irrational, but natural and organic. It is, however, clearly the case that the author (qua vehicle) must submit to the ‘parent’ text. But even this relationship is immediately sub- verted, as ‘Longinus’ proceeds to praise a more active, agonistic relationship with literary authority.’ Plato is presented as an example of an author who would not have achieved such success had he not fought with all his spirit for the first prize—by Zeus!—with Homer, like a young rival against one already marvelled at. Perhaps he did this too competitively and (as it were) breaking his spear, but nevertheless his endeavours were not useless: for (in Hesiod’s words) ‘this strife is good for mortals’ (Op. 24). And indeed this is a fine contest and garland of fame, and most worthy of winning; even defeat by one’s ancestors is not without glory, +. + @ pi nepl mpureiav v} Ala xavrt Oopsn xpds Ounpor, obs dvrayaman}s véos mpds By relarpaouevor, tows yeev qurovexérepor” Kai oiovel dradoparilopevos, odx drwpedds 8° Suws Bproreseror “dyaliy” yap xard rv Hotodov “eps Be Bporoia.” wat rai dvr adds ofros wal dfiovuxdraros eiudeias dydv re xai orébavos, év di kal 73 arrdoba raw mpoyerearépe» ob Bogor. (13.4) Here, ‘Longinus’ adopts suitably military metaphors in relation to a poet of war, evoking the Homeric discourse of glory through warfare (mpwrelow, dvrayeonariis, dudovixdrepov, SiadopariLsuevos, Sunproretero, pis, dkiovuxéraros, edirelas, dydbv, Arraobar, ESofov).% The ‘Platonic’ repertoire of imagery in the earlier passage is now supplanted by the ‘Homeric’ language of war. In a concomitant process, the style is also transformed: gone is the hazy mythicism of the earlier passage,*! replaced now with a strident assertiveness (particularly in the conditional, ‘he would not have . . . had he not’, and in the sententious citation from Hesiod). It is as if ‘Longinus’, while discussing the theoretical issues of imitation, dramatizes in 7 Walsh (1988), 266. ® "This is Russell’s emendation for MS @uoverxérepov, but the choice between giddvewos and guddvnos (which were phonetically indistinguishable at this time) is problematic and pretty much intractable for all literature of the period: see Duff (1999), 83 with n. 38 for a brief summary of the issues. ® "The violent ianguage continues in the following sections: vivid description ‘enslaves’ (Sondosra:) the hearer (15.9); figures ‘are allies of (dvrtompayetras) the sublime (17.1) 81 ‘So they say" (cis daaw, 13.2) marks the folkloric quality (pace Russell 1964: 114, who seems to take it to imply a ‘philosophical hypothesis’); also, the simile (like. .", 5, 13.2) and the metaphor of pregnancy add to the air of disorientated, other-worldliness.Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity 61 his own practice the difficulty of maintaining one’s own literary identity. This interlacing of theme and style is consistent with his advice elsewhere that ‘the meaning of a text and its expression are usually interwoven with each other’ (1} 705 Adyou vais 7 re $pdows 1d mele 80 éxarépov Seénrverat, 30.1). Concomitant with these stylistic variations comes an apparent conceptual clash. If the passage cited previously represented later literature as filial, this passage articulates an Oedipal relation- ship of strife between ‘the young’ (véo:) and their ‘ancestors’ (npoyeréorepo.). Mimesis is here a far from passive activity: it is, rather, a direct and combative engagement with the ‘father-text’ This contest for cultural authority implies a more discriminatory approach to the literature of the past.*? Yet the dissonance between the two characterizations of literary mimesis is not simply an error or a confusion. Sublime writing (and ‘Longinus’ is insistent that his own work should partake of the sublime)* is fractured and transgressive, in Too’s terms ‘dislocated’;* it admits of errors and inconsistencies of expression, since a great writer ‘often buys off all his slips with a single instance of sublimity that sets it all aright’ (Gmavra ra obédwara évi eeverrar modddies Sper Kal xarophbpare, 36.2).*5 Uniformity is for skholastikoi (‘academic pedants’) (2.. skholikos at 10.7, cf. 3.5);*° ‘accuracy in every detail runs the risk of petty-mindedness’ ((r6) . .. éy mavrl dxpiBes xévSvvos puxpéryros, 33.2). Instantiating these principles, ‘Longinus’’ own writing “tends to drift’, a process he nevertheless ‘resists . . . by correcting % For criticism of ancient writers, see e.g. De subl. 4.4 (Plato and Xenophon); 15.3 (Euripides); 32.7 (Plato); and further Segal (1959), 125. 33 Implied in the criticism of Caecilius’ handbook as ‘too humble for its subject matter’ (ranewérepor ris troSkocass, De subl. 1.1). See 33.2 on writers with ‘humble natures’, with Innes (1995) on the thematic importance of the word razcwés. This Caecilius is probably the famous critic Caecilius of Caleacte (on whom see Swain 1996: 2374), of whose Works numerous fragments are extant: see Russell (1964), 58-9. 4 Too (1998), 188-207. Recent scholarship has tended to overstate the trans gressive elements in On the sublime (sce below on transgression as a form of con- servatism): cf. the interesting arguments of Salamone (1993), Who argues that the Longinian sublime is paradoxical because it aims to imitate not reality but a super- idealized crystallization of cultural tradition. Guerlac (1985) points to ‘Longinus’? disruption of ‘fundamental category oppositions’ (276), but her argument scems to me overly focused upon the ‘Western philosophical tradition’ (which she resfies), and insensitive to rhetorical and literary theoretical currents i the ancient world. 85 For ‘Longinus’’ views on error, see 33-6 passim, with Walsh (1988), 254-7. % "The skholastikos was @ standard butt of jokes: see Plut. Cic. 5.2; Arr. Diss Epict. 1.11.39; and further, Winkler (1985), 160-562 The Politics of Imitation himself, constantly changing direction in an effort to find his target’.*” ‘Longinus’ ceaselessly reworks and reconfigures the terminology he uses, making it impossible to reduce his complex, plural prose into a schematic system. ‘This principle, as we have seen, underlies ‘Longinus’’ knowingly oscillatory presentation of ‘mimesis as both a ‘natural’ relationship of filiation and a confronta- tional struggle. In its subtle self-contradictions, On the sublime enacts the manifold complexities of the imitative process. The act of allusion to the literature of the past simultancously exalts it and seeks to neutralize its superiority. In a move that further compounds the air of unevenness and sublime disorientation, ‘Longinus’ presently proceeds to use mimésis in the so-called ‘philosophical’ sense (that is, to mark the imitation of nature, physis, by art, tekhné: 22.1). As has already been argued, however, the ‘philosophical’ and the ‘rhetorical’ senses cannot simply be securely separated, as though the conno- tations of one never infected the other. In a discussion of the figure of hyperbaton (syntactical dislocation), ‘Longinus’ writes that ‘Those who in real life (107 ont) feel anger or fear or disquiet because of jealousy or some other cause .. . vary their word-order in all sorts of ways using myriad tropes; thus, among the best writers, thanks to hyperbaton mimésis approaches the effects of nature (physeds). For art (tekhu®) ii perfect when it resembles nature (physis), whereas nature (physis) is successful whenever it encompasses concealed art (tekhnén) of réin Syme dpyidpevor ¥ foBotperor i} dyavaxrobvres dnd Cydorumlas bud Mov rwds . . . ravrolws mpis pupias rpomds evadAdrroum rdéw, obrws map rois dploras avyypadetor dud raw SmepBardv i pipnas én ra ris dboews Epya déperas. rére yap % réyyn Tedewos Hix’ dv dios elvat Boniu, 4 8? ad doors Emroyis dray AavOdvovaan reptéyne Tv rérqv. (22.1) This important passage, with its vigorous assertion of the principle that ars. . . latet arte sua (‘art is hidden by art’), marks the unnaturalness of mimésis, its implication with literary artifice. In a text that marks itself explicitly as a ‘technical tract” (rexvodoyia, 1.1), and indeed in a literary culture that is self- consciously mired in artificial and knowing literary techniques, ‘Longinus’ here (in contrast to the earlier, ‘naturalizing’ explana- © Walsh (1988), 253. ® Contra e.g. Russell (1964), 138: ‘the mimesis here meant 1s the imitation of things, not that of literary models’. See further above, p. 48Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity 63 tion of literary ‘pregnancy’) presents mimésis as a dissimulative device that engenders resemblance and concealment. In this respect, the ‘secondary’ culture that ‘Longinus’ inhabits is implicitly linked with artful repetition. At the same time, however, ‘secondary’ elaboration is praised as a means of improving upon nature, ‘encompass[ing] concealed art’. Indeed, this complex intertwining of ‘nature’ (physis) and ‘artifice’ (tekhn) permeates the entirety of On the sublime. In the second paragraph of the text, ‘Longinus’ raises the question of whether there is an ‘art’ (tekhné) of sublime writing (2.1), in response to those who hold that ‘artificial precepts’ (tekhnika parangelmata, 2.1) cannot teach composition, that physis alone teaches great writing, and that tekhn@ can only spoil such a naturally good writer (2.1). ‘Longinus’ counters with three points. First, he tells us, nature (physis) does not operate ‘at random and without any method (amethodos) altogether’ (08x elkaidy rt Kax ravrés dpeBoSov, 2.2); secondly, although nature is primary, it is only method (methodos) that can teach ‘the correct quantities and the timing (kairos) for each thing and the least erroneous prepara- tion and use’ (rds . . . roodrytas Kai rév eb” éxacrov Kaipév ert 8é ry amhaveoréray donot te Kai xpHow, 2.2); and, thirdly, ‘greatness’ (ra peyéda)”! is very dangerous when left alone without learning, unsupported and unmoored, abandoned to instinct alone and untaught audacity—for it often needs the bit as well as the spur, aird eg? abrav Biya emoripns doripixra xai dveppdriora eablrra .. . én ndvg rie dopas wad dpade? rum Aerndpeva- Bet yap adrois bs Kévrpo modes offre BE Kai yadwod. (2.2) ‘There is (as so frequently in On the sublime) a conceptual catachresis at work here (in the first defence, ‘Longinus’ evokes the Stoic view of nature as fundamentally rational and ‘method- ical’, whereas in the second and third cases he presents it as lack- ing in the method that human intelligence can give it). With a © See Segal (1959), 122-33 Walsh (1988), 253 ® *Longinus’ recalls Socrates’ discussion of the tekln® of rhetorte nm Plato’s Gorgias (4594 and following). Nessclrath (1985), 155-6 sites the passage from “Longinus’ in the context of ancient traditions of rekhné-writing, °" Evoking Pl. Resp. 491d-492a, the so-called ‘theory of great natures’ (i.e. indi- vidual natures that are most prone to either outstanding or deleterious effects). See Duff (1999), 47-9, 60-5 on Plutarch’s use of this passage, and his p. 48 n. 103 for other instan ss of reference to it.64 The Politics of Imitation characteristic self-referentiality, however, this catachresis serves only to exemplify the point that ‘Longinus’ is making: sublime writers strain the limits of regular linguistic usage. Indeed, in the third argument, a great ‘nature’ is implicitly compared to a beast, requiring the control of the ‘bit’ and the ‘spur’ to prevent it from rampaging.” Sublimity, then does not simply proceed unilaterally from nature,” but from the dialectic of control and chaos. In another sense, the sublime can be said to be a form of violence to nature. A rhetorical ‘gure’ (skhéma) is represented as precisely the opposite of ‘natural usage’ (ij xara vow xpyots, 16.2). In his discussion of hyperbaton, already alluded to above, he describes this rhetorical figure as ‘word-order (taxis) that deviates from the natural sequence’ (rijv eke rod xara piow eipuod . . . rd€w, 22.1). The word taxis, from the verb tattein (‘order’, ‘structure’, ‘arrange’, ‘command’) implies a proper arrangement sanctioned by authority. Hyperbaton is an act of insubordination against nature, implying transgression in its very name (hyperbainein is ‘to cross over’; transgressio is the Latin equivalent). In the course of his examples drawn from Herodotus and Thucydides, ‘Longinus’ refers to the former as having ‘twisted askew the order (taxis) of thoughts’ (ry 7aév vonpdrow anéorpepe rééw, 22.2), and to the latter as ‘even (kai) taking elements that have been absolutely united by nature and indivisible and nevertheless (homds) sepa- rating them from each other with his hyperbata’ (xal rd ddaet révros opera kat dBiavéunra dpes rais inepBdoeaw dm’ ANapww dyew, 22.3). ‘This last sentence, with its emphatically concessive ‘even (kai) . . . nevertheless (homds)’ structure, vividly asserts the transgressive boldness of Thucydides’ syntax. ‘Transgressiveness, though, is a technique for institutionalizing % Russell (1964), 65 asserts that this metaphor is ‘much used by educators’, citing Cie. Brut. 204 (Isocrates on Ephorus and Theopompus); Diog. Laert. 4.6 {Plato on Aristotle and Xenocrates); 5.39 (Aristotle on Callisthenes and Theo- pompus). There are, however, further implications here, particularly of tyrannical behaviour: see Villari (1988). *3” And as argued by Segal (1959), 122~ Caccilius defined a skhéma as a ‘trope/turning towards the unnatural in thought and expression’ (rpom} «ls 73 jc} xard dow nis Siavolas Kal Aégeus, fr. 50 Ofenloch). Russell (1964), 127 notes the naiveté of a belief in a fundamentally ‘natural’ form of expression; see, however, Plutarch, Quomodo adulesc. 23a for an example in Classical criticism of 2 more sophisticated awareness of lexis. 58 See further Too (1998), 198-9 on the disruptive effects of Longinian hyper- baton. % Rhet, ad Her. 4.32.44; Quint. Inst. or. 8.6.62.Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity 65 a different set of values: crossing boundaries necessitates the erection of new ones. ‘Longinus’ is not simply a nihilist revelling in subversion and disorder, but a committed writer with deeply rooted, indeed at times conservative, ethical priorities.°” He writes of the need to compose ‘with symmetry’ (ovppérpws, 29.1),°% and the word kairos (‘timing or ‘measure’) recurs (12.5; 18.2; 27.2; 32.1), often emphasized as an important oratorical quality (2.15 16.35 42; cf. 22.4; 29.1; 32.4). Elements in a sentence need to be ‘built up together’ (ovvouxodopodpeva, 10.7). In certain places, ‘Longinus’ recalls Aristotle’s theory of the mean in his emphasis upon the importance of the avoidance of excessively polarized states." ‘The author’s oscillation between subversion and regu- lated order can also be seen in his style: for example, in his discussion of hyperbaton, he follows an inordinately complex, hyperbatic sentence of 101 words with a terse expression of self- restraint (eight words in the original): ‘But I must be sparing in my use of examples, because of the number of them’ (deta 8é rar rapaderypdrow gore 81d 73 TXiiOos, 22.4).!0" After the explosion of excess comes self-regulating parsimony. These two trajectories, centrifugal and centripetal, define and offset one another through- out the essay On the sublime. ‘The concepts of ‘order’ and ‘transgression’, and the dialogic relationship between the two, are thus central concepts to On the sublime. As political metaphors, however, they raise an interesting set of questions concerning the relationship between literature and the socio-political climate of the time. This, indeed, is one of the most tantalizing features of On the sublime, a text that teases its readers by almost explicitly articulating a cultural-political agenda. For a start, it self-consciously trades upon the relationship between past and present that was so central to Greek self-definition during * At De subl. 5.1, ‘the urge for innovation’ (r5 xawsonoubov) is decried. %® The MS reading; Russell reads ot jézpex with Morus, so as to account con- vincingly for the subsequent swt (‘with a certain moderation’). The emendation does not affect the point made here. A textually difficule sentence: evvoxoSopoduera is Manutius’ emendation for MS oworxovoposueva (Russell 1964: 106 compares 39.3: Tht... rav New ZrovxoBopjoes 7a peyéOy owappdtovear). Again, emendation does not effect the point. "00 Coulter (1964). Laurenti (1987), 25-6 argues unconvineingly for a Stoic source for these ideas. 10! "That the previous sentence exemplifies the principles it describes is noted by Russell (1964), 1395 cf. 134.66 The Politics of Imitation the period. As we have seen, mimesis of writings of the past has a thrilling effect, inspiring the contemporary author ‘like the emana- tions from sacred clefts’ (dos dd tepav oropien dndppoval twes, 13.2). As Too has shown, ‘Longinus’ employs a series of meta- phors of spatial dislocation to reinforce the concept of Apollonian ‘transport’, suggesting that literature can lead one away from the present into the past. The sublime is a means of transcending the present: great art is not tied to the present but aims at the uni- versal (aiéy);!* its grandeur exceeds the human sphere, making it divine and cosmic." Just as sublime style flits between order and chaos, so it probes the barriers of time and culture, At the same time as he recognizes a substantive difference between the ancients and ‘us’ (jjueis, 14.1), ‘Longinus’ presents sublime writing as an effacement of that difference, a form of communion with the greats. Even as he asserts the ‘agonistic’ aspects of the mimetic relationship, ‘Longinus’ nevertheless attempts to construct an imagined community of universal Hellenism, a Hellenism that is strong enough to incorporate references to Jewish (9.9, on Genesis 1: 3-9)!5 and Latin literature (12.3-5; but see below on this passage) without spending its vigour. Yet ‘Longinus’ is also aware of the immense gulf that lies between the Classical past and the Roman present. Indeed, in the famous closing" chapter (44) of the work (as we have it, any rate), he reports a debate between himself (or, at least, the persona he adopts here) and ‘one of the philosophers’ (ris raiv guroaddun, 44.1), who attributes apparent literary decadence to the advent of that ‘just slavery’ (Zoudelas Scxalas, 44.3). Though this phrase has been taken as a reference to the transition in Roman politics from republic to principate,!'” it has recently (and no doubt rightly) “2 Too (1998), 196-202. 3 De subl. 1 3, 4:75 9-35 14.3) 362, 44-15 44.95 Seal (1959), 122-3 bel De subl. 35-3; Segal (1959), 135. | am not convineed by West (1995) as to the Near Bastern origin of such tdeas of cosmic grandeur: ef, e.g. Luer, 1.72~4 for a Classical parallel. 45 See Russell (1964), 92-4, nightly arguing against the suggestion of mterpola- “© The essay breaks off midway through a quotation from Euripides. It is some- times argued either that a substantull portion 18 missing at the end or that ch. 44 8 misplaced: see contra most recently Mazzuchi (1990), though the interpretation of the text as fundamentally ‘about’ the sovral benefits of literature is reductive. “7 Russell (1964), 185~7. The argument for this mterpretation rests upon analo- gies from Latin Interature, which link hterary decline to the advent of the principate (esp. Vell. Pat, 1.6.16-17; Sen. Controu. 1 praef. 6; Tac. Dial. 36-49); but recentRepetition: The Crisis of Posterity 67 been claimed that the primary reference is to Macedonian and then Roman domination of Greece." The philosopher claims that great literature has died with the passing of democracy and the advent of slavery (44.1-5), while ‘Longinus’ replies that it is not Rome that has enslaved men, but their own appetites (44.6-12). It is significant that the proponent of the first belief is a philosopher, for philosophers are commonly associated in this period with defiant and principled stances, and with free speech (parrhasia).' ‘Longinus’ introduces the figure of the unknown philosopher in order to experiment with the bold proposition that Greek litera- ture in the past was great because of Greek freedom; and, by implication, that cultural continuity can only be constructed if Greece is liberated from Roman domination. ‘Longinus’ professes, of course, to reject this interpretation. This text appears deliberately to depoliticize itself: it offers up the possibility of an ideological interpretation, the sublime proposed as a form of resistance to Roman domination, only to withdraw it. In this respect, Segal (who argues for an apolitical reading) is right to point to ‘Longinus’’ anti-materialist ‘idealism’."" Yet it would be naive to conclude that the political is simply marginal to the author's interests. Why, in that case, would he bother including the figure of the philosopher at all? It is preferable to explore the rhetorical effects of this paraliptical disavowal. (Comparable is Tacitus’ use of vulgar rumours, which he decries for their ignorance and sensationalism . . . but nevertheless incorporates into his imperial portraits,)""' To an extent, Segal already allows for the ‘repoliticization’ of On the sublime, by arguing that the scholarship has been less melned to view Greek and Roman literature as homo- geneous, and has heen more sensitive to the differmg cultural prior 1" [Heath (1999), 53-4, esp. p. 54: ‘it would only make sense to say that the end of the Roman republic explained the lack of sublimity in Greek literature if one were willing to assert that Hellenistic authors had achteved it—not an opinion we ean attribute to [‘Longious’] For a comparable interpretation of the ebbs and fluxes of Greek literary prowess in terms of political change, cf. Dion. Hal. De wet or. 1.2, who blames Iterary decadence on the conquest of Greece by Alexander, but points to a recent resurgence (see Ant. Rom. 1.2.3 for a similur comment on the decline of post-Alexandrian Greece). Philostr. VS 511 does not provide an explicitly politcal explanation, but there 18 a strong implication of a peak in the Classical period and subsequent decadence until the resurgence m the 2nd cent. CB: sec e.g. G. Anderson (1986), 12-13; Rothe (1989), 7-8 '© e.g. Dio Chr. 3-12-25; Luc. Peregr. 18; Glad (1996); Konstan (1997), 108. 1 Segal (1959), 139-40. M1 Shatzman (1974). 368 The Politics of Imitation debate in chapter 44 may represent ‘a struggle within the mind of ‘Longinus’ himself.""? Not wishing to put the matter in such ‘expressive-realist’'? terms, we might rephrase this idea: the con- clusion of On the sublime enacts a movement away from the politi- cal, but suggests the possibility of an alternative, ‘philosophical’ interpretation; and this duality seeks to engender an uncertain ambivalence in the reader's mind as to the relationship between politics and literature. If this interpretation is right, then the next question is: why has ‘Longinus’ concealed his motives for advancing the political inter- pretation? The answer has to do with the addressee of the essay, the otherwise unknown Terentianus, who is explicitly advertised as a Roman.'"* Terentianus may be addressed as ‘my best friend’ (philtate, 1.1; 1.35 7.1; 12.4; 17.1; 29.2; 44.1), but the cultural difference between the two is an important element: in his com- parison between Cicero and Demosthenes (12.4~5), ‘Longinus’ underlines the distance between ‘you [Romans]’ (dyeis) and ‘we Greeks’ (juiv. . . EAAjow). In the first place, he apologizes for dis- cussing Cicero with the words ‘insofar as it is permissible for us, Greeks as we are, to know anything [sc. about Latin authors]’ ((«!) kai tiv dbs EXnow edetral re ywdoxew, 12.4). Cicero is contrasted with ‘our man’ (6. . . suerépos, 12.4) Demosthenes. In concluding his discussion of Cicero, he writes ‘but you people would be better judges of such matters’ (GAAd radra . . . Sueis dv dpewov émexpivorre, 12.5). The Roman Terentianus plays the role of empowered recipient, perhaps even patron: he has ‘ordered’ ‘Longinus’ to write, and will ‘judge’ the product (ZexeAevow . . . ovverixpweis, 1.2). This assertion of difference between Greek and Roman is mean- ingful and deliberate. ‘Longinus’ (who clearly reads Latin, and may well have been in actuality a Roman citizen) could have emphasized his close cultural bonds with Terentianus (who is sufficiently Hellenized to understand a text written in sophisti- cated, and sometimes recondite, prose).''5 ‘Longinus’ could pre- egal (1959), 140. #2. See Introd., “The Pohtics of Imitat “6 "The political importance of the addressee is noted by Guerlac (1985), 279-80. For some guesses as to the ‘real’ identity of Terentianus, see Laurenti (1987), 18. #5 Plutarch, for example, nowhere tells us whether Q. Sosius Senecio, the addressee of the Parallel lives, On progress in virtue, and Table-talk, is an Easterner who has acquired Roman citizenship or a Hellenized Roman. He was probably theio Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity 69 sumably have written of Romans as ‘we’, just as Lucian famously does on occasion." This schematic polarity between ‘we’ and ‘you’, then, is not so much an articulation of a self-evident fact as an artful structuring device, designed to create a dilemma for the reader: which side are you on? Are you with ‘us’ or ‘them’? And, a further ramification, given the ambivalences we have noted in the final chapter: which way will you read this text? Will you accept its superficial rejection of Greek subjection as an explanation for literary decline, or will you probe deeper, recovering the ‘philo- sophical’ interpretation? Indeed, during the course of the discussion, ‘Longinus’ explicit- ly discusses the importance of using ‘figured’ speech, language that conceals its own intentions, in situations where there is a differential of power. In such instances, we read, the person in question is driven to suspect an insidious attack: It is a property of devious figuring that it should be suspicious, and pro- yoke thoughts of an ambush, conspiracy or hoodwinking, particularly whenever one addresses an important judge, and especially tyrants, kings or consuls—anyone in power over you Snonréy eorw iBlws 16 51d oxnpdro mavovpyeiv Kad mpooBéMoy dmédvoay evébpas émBovdjs mapadoyiopo’, teat rai"t Srav je mpos xpiriy xtpuov 6 Adyos, wddiora 8€ mpds Typdvvovs Baoréas Fyerdvas (mdvras rods) év Smepoxais. (17.1) Language is imaged here as a form of military power—an ‘ambush’ (évé5pa)!!”—that competes with political power. It also can raise very serious dangers: the potentate in question ‘some- times goes completely wild (apotherioutai, 17.1)’, recalling the theriomorphism of Plato’s tyrant in the Republic;!'® while ‘even if he masters his anger, he is altogether hostile to persuasion’ latter (see Swain 1996: 426-7, against C. P. Jones 1970); but the very fact that we do not know points to Plutarch’s desire to conceal cultural differences between himself and his addressee. M6 Luc. Ales. 485 nit UT Figured speech 18 also said to ‘fight as an ally’ (dervoyjpayetras) with the speaker (17.1). 8’ One who becomes a tyrant turns “from a man into a wolf” (Anan e dv6pdirov, Resp. 5662; ef. 565d-566), and ‘bestiality and savagery’ (73... . Onprdsbés re eat dypiov) dominate his soul (Resp. 571c). As is pomted out by Bushnell (1990), 16, ‘Thrasymachus, Socrates’ violent interlocutor, is repeatedly imaged in bestial terms (336b, 3416, 358b), and thus assimilated to the tyrant (see also the mteres comments of Farenga 1981). fst. conscr. 5, 17, 29, 31; Palm (1959), 54- See, however, Ch. §jo The Politics of Imitation (xy extxparijone 82 708 Oxpos, mpds my med rav dMyww advrws dvriBtaribera1, 17.1). Speaking to the empowered is a highly risky business, and the hegemonic differential necessarily ‘politicizes’ everything one says. ‘Longinus’ now proceeds to show how to conceal ‘the art of deviousness’ (i 708 mavoupyeiv réyvn, 17.2). by using sublime, emotive language as a ‘palliative and amazing pro- tection against the suspicion that one is using figures’ (rs émt ra axnnariler Srovolas adéfqua Kat Oavpaar} ris émnovpia, 17.2). Figured speech is a kind of power-play, but it depends for its success upon disguising that fact: ‘a figure works the best when it conceals the very fact that it is a figure’ (rére dpuorov BSoxei 73 oxiwa, Srav aizé robro diadavBdvm, Sr oxfud gore, 17.2).!" The embattled context wherein one addresses a superior necessitates quasi-theatrical strategies of disguise and deception. This discussion of figured speech can be read as a cue to a more disruptive reading of On the sublime itself. Is this not a text addressed by a clever Greek to a Roman? Is it not a text that cleverly insinuates subversive readings whilst maintaining a superficially compliant attitude towards Roman domination? When we construct mimetic links back to autonomous Greece, are we simply making an aesthetic point, or do we also engender a concomitant challenge to Roman hegemony? Is ‘Longinus’ simply exemplifying linguistic points when he cites Plato's jingoistic assertion that ‘we are not half-barbarians who live here, but Greeks’ (airoi Eves ob pu€oBépBapor oixoiper, 23.4)? Similarly provocative is his citation of Demosthenes’ excoriation of Vile men, flatterers who have each amputated your own fatherlands, drinking away your freedom first to Philip, now to Alexander, measuring your happiness by your bellies and the most shameful practices, over- turning freedom and autonomy, which the Greeks of old thought of as the definitions and yardsticks of good men Gvdpamor . . . papod wal «édaxes, rxpwrnpiacpévor ras cavréiv éxaoror rarpibas, rv édeufleplav mponenuxdres npdrepov PiNirnan, vurt Be AreEdvipun, re yaorpl pezpotivres wai rois aloxlarois Tiy iBaipovlay, ry 8” AevBepiay kat 16 pydéva Exew Beondryv, & rois xpdrepov EMnow Spor rdv dyabdw Yoav Kat xavdves, dvarerpoddres. (32.2) Is this Demosthenes addressing the Athenians or ‘Longinus’ addressing his readers, mutatis mutandis? Is it possible to quote "9 On concealment as u strategy in Greek rhetorical theory, see Cronje (1993).Repetition: The Crisis of Posterity n the formal properties alone of such inflammatory utterances, especially in the context of a text that itself urges an analogous instauration of the values of ‘the Greeks of old’ (of mpércpov ‘EdAyves)? If we emphasize such hints and uncertainties as these, then we conclude that the depoliticization that the text dramatizes at the conclusion is a strategic effect, designed to draw attention to the very movement that it traces: as in a palimpsest, the process of overwriting is not sufficiently complete to conceal the words beneath. On the sublime is, thus, politically ambivalent. As we saw earlier, it describes a continual tension in sublime writing between order and disorder. These principles can also be understood in political terms: Longinus at once proposes and rejects the ‘sub- versive’ explanation of the philosopher, thereby both consol dating the Pax Romana and, implicitly, challenging it; or, better, forcing the reader to bring his or her own interpretative judgement to bear upon the issue. On the sublime is a highly complex and wilfully inconsistent text. Like Plutarch, ‘Longinus’ is ever aware that he is writing in and for a culture that bears a secondary, ‘mimetic’ relationship to the privileged, canonical past. Whereas Plutarch seeks to construct cultural continuity (presenting mimésis as a ‘natural’ outgrowth of the past), however, this author dramatizes a much more problematic, embattled terrain. At times, mimesis is a form of inspired possession, at other times it is an agonistic contest; at times it interweaves harmoniously with nature, at other times it violently disrupts it. In the political sphere, too, ‘Longinus’ presents a complex problem: does reactivating the Greek past (and the concomitant language of freedom and anti-barbarism) repre- sent a challenge to Roman dominion? Such ambivalences and ‘figurings’ form part of the power of this text, a text that mimics the ability of the sublime both to consolidate order and to disrupt it. ART AND ARTIFICE Plutarch and ‘Longinus’, in their very different ways, present mimesis as a means of constructing cultural continuity with the past. This, however, is not the only way of interpreting the ‘secon- dariness’ of Roman Greck literature. In order to introduce the interpretation of mimesis as an ‘artificial’ concoction, I wish now to