Epicurean philosophy is essentially therapeutic, its purpose to ease inner turmoil and promote ataraxia. As S. points out, Lucretius’ De rerum natura is often read in this way. S. wants to investigate the links between Epicurean linguistics and performative language, arguing that Epicureanism incorporated aspects of speech act theory long before its modern instantiation. S. refers to J.L. Austin's How To Do Things With Words (1962) and tries to show how we might use elements of modern language theory as a constructive lens through which to read Lucretius.
In Chapter 1, ‘Speech Acts in Epicureanism’, S. uses a range of sources to examine Epicurean prolepseis (concepts or preconceptions). These seem to take the place of the ‘signified’ in the middle ground between the utterance, ‘signifier’, and the object, ‘referent’, which the utterance denotes. S. believes the prolepsis can be related to the modern theory of performative language. In Epicurean language development (see Epicurus, Ep. Hdt. 75–6; Lucretius, DRN 5.1028–90), the names of things do not arise fully by nature or by convention, instead combining the two, tied to both object and perceiver. The sound expelled in an utterance is shaped by the impression on the senses left by repeated impacts of the perceived object. A prolepsis, according to Diogenes Laertius, is ‘a memory of what has often appeared [in sensation] from outside’ (10.33). It has the rough form of whatever we are talking about, be it a human, a tree or anything else. It is not the impression of a particular object, but rather that of a type of object. S. argues that in this can be seen a rudimentary theory of performative language. This becomes more convincing over the course of the book. The Epicureans were certainly interested in what texts do: that they should have an effect, perform somehow. The language they use acts in a particular way, or should. For instance, memorising and repeating to oneself the points of Epicurus’ letters should, in effect, change the reader's manner of thinking. These texts do not simply describe a state of affairs or a theory. Looking at what the text does, as well as what it says, is an undeniably useful approach.
In Chapter 2, ‘Lucretian Promises’, S. focuses on a particular type of speech act, the promise, which in Austin (pp. 157ff.) is a performative subtype called the ‘commissive’, which commits the speaker to an act of some sort. The word ‘promise’ is perhaps a little general, and S. stretches the definition to include pacts, treaties, agreements, and in Lucretius, the foedera naturae. There are laws of nature but also laws or agreements that govern interactions both between humans and animals and between different types of atomic structures. In a wider sense, this might be why all things come from similar things, humans give birth to humans instead of giraffes, fish are not formed from rocks etc. Objects are similar in structure to their predecessors due to the limitations of nature. Lucretius is not creating the foedera naturae, but by the language he uses to describe these laws, or limitations, he changes the way we think about the world. How does this relate to speech act theory? S. argues that by using particular terms – for example fides, foedus – Lucretius transfers ‘the language of promises … to the material world’ (p. 66). Looking at the repetition of fides in DRN 4.462–506, S. moves from describing the promise as an agreement between two entities to a marker of division, especially regarding the senses. There is a sort of trust between senses and mind, a promise made that might be infelicitous in performative terms. That is, the ‘promise’ that sense data will match the external source object, when interpreted by the mind, may or may not prove accurate. The question then is how well can language really describe the world. Lucretius as the poeta creator acts ‘to create the world that he at times seems only to describe’ (p. 93), which reminds this reader of the ancient Babylonian priests and their yearly recitations of the Enuma Elish, the performance of the words actually being the renewal of the world and the powers of the king. The text performs.
In Chapter 3, ‘Antonomasia, Anonymity, and Atoms’, S. looks at the speech act of naming and how that applies to Lucretius. Names are often deictic, pointing to their objects, rather than being constative, describing or defining objects. S. discusses DRN 5.1028–32, where the nomina rerum, the names of things, are associated with children gesturing, pointing at what they are perceiving. But S. wants to link the use of proper names to the ‘intermingling of human and atomic attributes’ (p. 100), arguing that sometimes the naming (or, rather, not naming) of individuals anonymises them, ‘creating a kind of quality-less faceless-ness reminiscent, at least in some respects, of atoms’ (p. 100). He looks specifically at how Lucretius uses Memmius, Epicurus and Venus. For instance, the one time Epicurus’ name appears, the context emphasises his mortality. By not naming Epicurus elsewhere, Lucretius distances Epicurus, placing him beyond the text, beyond the world he is creating, thus both anonymising him and putting him amongst the gods. Meanings shift and become blurred in the naming of Venus. S. looks at the end of DRN 4 to show how Venus is translated as ‘wedlock’, ‘sexual’, ‘penis’, ‘intercourse’ and simply ‘Venus’ (p. 128), so that it works as both a proper and a common noun, specific and general. Since it works differently depending on context, without changing structurally, the word becomes atom-like, stripped of inherent function or meaning, anonymous and non-specific. This adaptability is one of the things that makes words atomic, as atoms only gain certain higher secondary qualities when moving from the general to the specific, becoming part of a larger and more defined structure. However, this argument, although interesting, can only stretch so far. Lucretius does not use all proper nouns in this way.
In Chapter 4, ‘Catachrestic Origins’, we find perhaps the most problematic chapter for readers whose interest lies entirely in Epicureanism, possibly with little experience of modern language theory. Catachresis is a difficult term, not least because of its own slippery definition. One of its meanings, in which S. seems most interested, is a movement from definite to indefinite, much like Venus in Chapter 3. S. discusses the unus quisque, a particular individual who at the same time stands for each or every man, in this way connecting the person to the atom through Lucretius’ language. There is a blurring of the general and particular, for example at DRN 2.1052–66, where living creatures are classed with other material things, their uniqueness denied. Humans become generic, one standing for many. Their atomisation, through Lucretius’ language, ends in a catachresis, meaning shifts, and the unus becomes a quisque, a generic, indefinite being, the atomised human. This does not exactly gel with Epicurus’ ideal of clarity in meaning (see Ep. Hdt. 37–8), but Lucretius does sometimes perform his arguments through his choices and positioning of words, so perhaps this catachrestic approach is warranted.
The book ends with a very useful bibliography and an index of names and terms, but lacks an index locorum. One might quibble over some of S.’s translations, and a rare quotation that might be considered out of context, but ultimately these complaints are personal. I found much to both agree and disagree with in this book. It is consistently challenging, but thoroughly rewarding when one works through all the arguments, following up each reference. This is a valuable contribution to the study of Epicurean language theory.
