Libertas for a Roman citizen was an intricate tapestry of rights and duties. Central to the Roman identity was the cherished freedom, at least in theory, to influence the crafting of Roman laws and the shaping of its policies. They recognized the supremacy of law and respected only the magistrates whose authority stemmed from the collective will of the people. One might be tempted to brush off libertas, especially during the waning days of the republic, as nothing more than aristocratic entitlement. Yet, a glance at the Pharsalia reveals Lucan's keen awareness of the shortcomings inherent in the concept of libertas (1.158-82).

Lucan's vision of libertas might seem restricted or simplistic to some, yet it resonates deeply across ages, touching the heart of every era that esteems the individual's liberty to lead a thoughtful and autonomous existence within a civilized and compassionate society. To label his idea of libertas as exclusive to a single class is unjust. Lucan exhibits a profound imaginative empathy, recognizing the dignity and virtus (courage) in all who yearn for righteousness and honor. He meticulously highlights the Massilians, who have outpaced the Romans in practicing their own virtues, portraying them in stark contrast to their Roman counterparts. They stand firm, unwavering in loyalty to their allies, aspiring solely to conduct themselves with devotion both to the divine and to their fellow men.

The Tragic Kinship of War

Lucan commences the epic tale of Pharsalia by starkly reminding his audience of the tragic and savage nature of the Roman civil war, a conflict that descends beyond mere strife to fratricide. In a relentless refrain, he highlights the familial ties between Pompey and Caesar, bound as son-in-law and father-in-law, yet pitted against one another, kin against kin. Rome, in a heartbreaking paradox, turns its blade inward, wounding itself. The Centurion Laelius delivers a chilling speech, embodying a terrifying zeal in service to an unscrupulous leader, while illustrating the collapse of the social fabric and shared humanity. In his unyielding allegiance to Caesar, Laelius pledges to strike down even the divine, his father, brother, and even his expectant wife, oblivious to the deep scars each act would carve into his soul. This chaotic war ensnares all in a web of culpability; no man’s hands, regardless of his righteousness, remain untainted by the blood of his kin and comrades.

The Unforgiving Nature of Conflict

Lucan continually reminds his readers of the self-destructive essence of this war. Even the construction of his sentences echoes this theme, persistently inverting logical objects to become grammatical subjects, as seen in 4.561-2: "their breasts dashed against the steel, and their throats struck the hand." This deliberate structure profoundly articulates the paradox of civil war, where every strike harms the attacker more grievously than the recipient.

The Duality of Suicide

Yet, in Lucan's perspective, suicide bears an unexpected virtue. It becomes the ultimate resistance against the tyranny of men and fate. When fear of death dissipates, no force can compel one to endure an evil they refuse. Death liberates one from all constraints. Moreover, through the Roman notion of devotio, it allows a person to dedicate their life to the gods for the wellbeing of the people. The term devotio fittingly, yet paradoxically, signifies both consecration and cursing. These dual meanings resonate in Cato’s desire to sacrifice his life to both celestial and infernal powers, seeking to redeem the sins of his homeland.

The Dual Forces of Fortune and Fate

Lucan scarcely differentiates between the intertwined concepts of fortune and fate. Both align closely with our modern understanding of "fate," yet they cannot be...