Frederick E. Brenk on Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer: “The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia” and “The Life of Mark Antony” 9789004348776, 9004348778

Citation preview

Frederick E. Brenk on Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer

Brill’s Plutarch Studies Editors Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta (University of Groningen) Delfim F. Leão (University of Coimbra)

Editorial Board Lucia Athanassaki Mark Beck Ewen L. Bowie Timothy Duff Rainer Hirsch-Luipold Judith Mossman Anastasios G. Nikolaidis Christopher Pelling Aurelio Pérez Jiménez Luc van der Stockt Frances B. Titchener Paola Volpe Cacciatore

volume 1

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bps

Frederick E. Brenk on Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer “The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia” and “The Life of Mark Antony”

Edited by

Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta with the collaboration of

Luisa Lesage

leiden | boston

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Brenk, Frederick E., author. | Roig Lanzillotta, Lautaro, editor. | Lesage, Luisa, contributor. Title: Frederick Brenk on Plutarch, religious thinker and biographer : “The religious spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia” and “The Life of Mark Antony” / edited by Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta, with the collaboration of Luisa Lesage. Other titles: Aufstieg und Niedergang der r?omischen Welt. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2017. | Series: Brill's Plutarch studies, ISSN 2451-8328, volume 1 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: lccn 2017016212 (print) | lccn 2017027888 (ebook) | isbn 9789004348776 (E-Book) | isbn 9789004348769 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: lcsh: Plutarch. Antonius. | Plutarch. Lives. | Plutarch. Moralia. Classification: lcc pa4382 (ebook) | lcc pa4382 .b745 2017 (print) | ddc 888/.01–dc23 lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017016212

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2451-8328 isbn 978-90-04-34876-9 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-34877-6 (e-book) Copyright 2017 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Abbreviations of Journals and Series

vii

Introduction to Frederick E. Brenk on Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer 1 Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta and Delfim F. Leão

part 1 The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia Introduction

7

1

Life 10

2

The Development of Plutarch’s Religious Ideas, and His Religious Works 17

3

Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Light of Alexandrian Middle Platonism 25

4

Plutarch’s Daimonology 43

5

De Iside et Osiride: Allegorical Interpretation and Syncretism

6

Plutarch and the Stoics 78

7

Religion in the Lives: Daimon and Tyche

8

Omens and Portents 96

9

Dreams 103

10

Divine Retribution 110

11

Delphi 114

12

The Mythological Lives and Roman Religion 121

81

66

vi

contents

part 2 The Life of Mark Antony: A Literary and Cultural Study 1

The Neronian Background to the Life 133 1 The Nerogonia of the Antonios 133 2 Plutarch and the Rex Turned Rana 143 3 Nero and Antonius Omestes 151 4 Vice Inherited: The Rotten Tree 157

2

Antonius and Demetrios 167 1 Biographical Platonism and the Chance of Living Again 2 Parallels in Vice 172 3 Parallels in Assimilations 175 4 Treading the Same Ground 179 5 Fighting the Same Battles 182 6 From Battle to Banquet and Boudoir 187 7 Inimitable Livers and Inseparable in Death 189

167

3

Narrative 200 1 Time 200 2 The Unified Plot 208 3 The Episodic Plot 212 4 Point of View 220

4

Some Aspects of Style 229 1 The Flight of Themistokles 229 2 Escaping the Ships of Libo 243 3 The Battle of Actium 247 4 The Pageantry: Antony’s Debauchery, His Arrival at Ephesos, Kleopatra’s Arrival at Tarsos 256 Bibliography 267 Index of Authors and Texts Cited 313 Index of Historical Persons 328 Index of Subjects 332

Abbreviations of Journals and Series ac AGLComo AJPh Ann. ephe anrw Arch. Ztg. azp bics Bull. Corr. Hell. cb cfc cj cp cq cr crai cs cw da E. Clas. epro Gnom. grbs HSCPh ics ja JbAC jhs jrs L’Inform. Lit. Nov. Test. ocd opiac paca

L’Antiquité Classique Annuario del Ginnasio Liceo A. Volta di Como American Journal of Philology Annuaire de l’École Pratique des Hautes-Études Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt Archäologische Zeitung Allgemeine Zeitschrift für Philosophie Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique Classical Bulletin Cuadernos de Filología Clásica Classical Journal Classical Philology Classical Quarterly Classical Review Comptes-rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres Critica Storica Classical World Dissertation Abstracts Études Classiques Études Préliminaires aux Religions Orientales dans l’Empire Romain Gnomon. Kritische Zeitschrift für die gesamte klassische Altertumswissenschaft Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies Harvard Studies in Classical Philology Illinois Classical Studies Journal Asiatique Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Roman Studies L’Information Littéraire Novum Testamentum Oxford Classical Dictionary Occasional Papers, Institute for Antiquity and Christianity Proceedings of the African Classical Association

viii pir² pcps rag re rea reg Rev. Hist. Rel. Rev. Phil. Rev. Théol. Philos. Rh. M. sbl Sem. Pap. so Stud. It. Stud. Urb. svf tapa TrGrF

abbreviations of journals and series Prosopographia Imperii Romani² Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft Revue des Études Anciennes Revue des Études Grecques Revue de l’Histoire des Religions Revue de Philologie Revue de Théologie et de Philosophie Rheinisches Museum für Philologie Society of Biblical Literature. Seminar Papers Symbolae Osloenses Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica Studi Urbinati di Storia, Filosofia e Letteratura Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, coll. H. v. Arnim Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association. Kannicht, R. & Snell, B. (eds.), Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta ii. Fragmenta Adespota (Göttingen, 1981).

Introduction to Frederick E. Brenk on Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer It is approximately seventy years ago that Frederick E. Brenk began his studies at Marquette University. During his long and fruitful career, Professor Brenk successfully combined his numerous academic duties and positions in the usa, uk and Italy with a prolific scientific activity. Resulting of the latter is his abundant scholarly production, which from the beginning centers on the figure of another prolific author, Plutarch of Chaeronea. Among the large amount of articles, edited volumes, and books devoted to the polygraph from Chaeronea the two studies included in this book occupy a special place. To begin with, “The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia” and “The Life of Mark Antony: A Literary and Cultural Study” are, together with his study on “demonology” from 1987,1 the only ‘book length’ articles of his scholarly production. However, our choice to include both articles in the present volume is not only due to the article’s length. In fact, both studies are also representative of Brenk’s integral approach to the corpus Plutarcheum, which duly reflects his wide interest in the two parts this corpus consists of. As to the former study, it surveys Plutarch’s religious thought mainly (though not only) in the Moralia; as to the latter, it provides a most interesting literary and cultural analysis of the Antonius in particular and of the Lives in general. But what characterizes these articles the most is that they both represent a turning point in Plutarchan studies: with his characteristic lively style Brenk masterfully synthesizes previous scholarship, engages in contemporary scholarly debates, and advances our knowledge of the numerous themes dealt within them by means of a fruitful interdisciplinary approach. The first of the two studies included in this book were first published as “An Imperial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” in W. Haase and H. Temporini (eds.), Philosophie, Wissenschaft. Technik. ii. Philosophie (Platonismus [Forts.]; Aristotelismus). Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt ii.36.1 (De Gruyter, Berlin/New York, 1987) 248–349. The lengthy index to the article was included at the end of the following volume “Index,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt ii.36.2 (1987) 1300–1322. Written at the end of the 1980s, “The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia” represents an impor-

1 F.E. Brenk, “In the Light of the Moon: Demonology in the Early Imperial Period,” in anrw ii.16.3 (1986) 2068–2145; Indices, anrw ii.36.2 (1987) 1283–1299.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_002

2

roig lanzillotta and leão

tant breakthrough the study of Plutarch’s Moralia, due to its exclusive focus on the religious aspect. Professor Brenk’s overview of Plutarch’s religious views and concepts provides an analysis of the most salient issues to understand Plutarch’s thought. His life, the formation of his religious thought, his idea of God and his view on daemonology roughly occupy the first half of the study, and Brenk managed to place Plutarch in the wider religious and philosophical context of the first two centuries ce. Equipped with these tools, the reader can then further proceed to unravel Plutarch’s allegorical interpretation and the syncretism behind De Iside; understand his polemics vis-à-vis the Stoics; and the role daimon and Tyche play in the Lives. Brenks polymathia also introduces the reader to other lesser but nevertheless important issues, such as the belief in omens, portents, or dreams, and, of course, to Plutarch’s conviction on divine retribution. Plutarch’s lifelong relationship with Delphi and his approach to Roman religion close the study. Professor Brenk’s presentation of the main aspects of Plutarch’s religious thought is far from static. His overview introduces the reader to both the main scholarly discussions on these aspects and to the actors behind them. In this sense ideas and / or interpretations are not devoid of their human background. Indeed the main protagonists of the 20th century scholarly discussion on Plutarch populate his pages: Rudolph Hirzel, Konrat Ziegler, Robert Flacelière, Donald Russell, Heinrich Dörrie, Cornelia J. de Vogel, Yvonne Vernière, Philip Merlan, John Dillon, John Gwyn Griffiths, and many others. The wide range of disciplines behind all these names already reflects the growing attraction Plutarch exerted far beyond the narrow scope of Classical Philology: GraecoRoman and Egyptian Religion, Religious studies, Archaeology, History, Philosophy, History of Ideas, Philology and Comparative Literature, etc. If during the 20th century Plutarch could still be seen by some as mainly an antiquarian, Brenk’s study made sufficiently clear that Plutarch’s prolific production is a crucial witness for the reconstruction of innumerable aspects of the cultural world of the first and second centuries ce. The second of the studies included here was published five years later than the former, in 1992, and first saw the light as “Plutarch’s Life of Markos Antonios: A Literary and Cultural Study,” in W. Haase (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt. Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung. Teil ii. Principat. Band 33: Sprache und Literatur 6. Teilband (Allgemeines zur Literatur des 2. Jahrhunderts und einzelne Autoren der trajanishen und frühhadrianischen Zeit) (De Gruyter, Berlin/New York 1992) 4348– 4469; with the indexes in the same volume, on pages 4895–4915. To a certain extent this is a rather different kind of study than the previous one. As its title already advances, the History of Religions approach makes room

introduction

3

for a more literary, psychological, and philosophical inquiry both of the Life of Mark Antony in particular and of numerous other Lives and their historical contexts in general. As Brenk rightly emphasizes, “If we consider Plutarch a philosopher by nature, vocation, and divine design (pronoia), and a biographer only through chance (tyche or to automaton), then he deserves serious consideration as a philosophical biographer or a biographical philosopher.” In order to do so, Professor Brenk’s study provides a wide ranging analysis structured in four large sections, all of which cover essential aspects of Plutarch’s method as a biographer. While the first part, “The Neronian Background to the Life,” provides an interesting analysis of the historical context in which the Life was written that attempts to uncover veiled references, the second focuses on Mark Antony itself. The comparison with Demetrius allows Brenk to analyze Plutarch’s characterization technique, and to point out the pivotal role played in it by his notion of virtue. The third part, “Narrative,” delves into a deep investigation of Plutarch’s narrative technique that places it in the modern narratological discussion. The section begins by evaluating how the notion of time is dealt with both in the Lives and in Moralia—an example of the interdisciplinary approach referred to above—, further compares the three notions of time of the De genio Socratis with the straightforward récit or chronological arrangement of the Mark Antony. Literary, theoretical, and philosophical analysis intermingle in a deep going investigation that uncovers interesting aspects of Plutarch’s thought. The fourth section, finally, is focused on the examination of a few passages that highlight the “baroque” aspect of Plutarch’s style with scenes usually combining agitated or ethereal movement, and a richness of motifs with supplementary, graceful figures. Plutarch’s tendency to include theatrical grandeur, emphasizing emotional intensity and dramatic crisis, exploiting striking contrasts, could indeed be described as “Hellenistic baroque”. The present re-edition of Frederick E. Brenk’s two seminal studies in book format intends in the first place to make them accessible to a wider public. The volume includes the revised and updated text of the original articles included in anrw, in which changes were kept to the minimum. Professor Brenk has carefully revised the whole manuscript a couple of times, updating, unifying and adapting references to current standards. In some cases original footnotes have also been rearranged, updated or corrected when necessary. Both articles originally included separated bibliographies; the new edition combines them in a single bibliographical section that includes all the references mentioned in the book. This goes also for the original indexes of both studies that are merged into a single section at the end of the volume. Thirty years after the original publication, the abundant bibliographic references included by Pro-

4

roig lanzillotta and leão

fessor Brenk in both footnotes and general bibliography, even if exhaustive at that time, ran the risk of being perceived as outdated. We decided therefore to take the painstaking effort to update it in order to meet the high standards of Brill’s Plutarch Studies. The letters “en” (= Editor’s Note) precedes all new material, conveniently marking all updated bibliographic references not originally included in the first edition. The completion of this volume could not have been possible without the unconditional support, help and active collaboration of Luisa Lesage Gárriga. She diligently helped reading the manuscript, restructured the bibliography and prepared the indexes. Warm thanks are also due to Petru Moldovan, who gave this edition the first impetus with the preparation of the ground texts on the basis of two scans, and to Forrest Kentwell, who helped with the indexes. We would also like to thank the whole team of Brill Academic Publishers: Tessel Jonquière, who helped us during the prolegomena to the series; and Mirjam Elbers and Giulia Moriconi, who diligently facilitated our work in the preparation of this first volume of the series. Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta and Delfim F. Leão

part 1 The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia

∵

Introduction This study is one of tracing the kaleidoscopic manifestations of Plutarch’s timid but creeping transcendentalism and theism through the great variety of his Moralia and Lives. The complex and separate divine elements of earlier Platonism and the manifestations of the supernatural in Greek culture and literature become in him subordinated to central ideas of a providential God, apparently assimilated to Plato’s Ideas and Demiourgos, if not One, who is also the destiny of the soul.1 Plutarch belongs rightly in his time, the transition from 1 An extensive bibliography on studies of Plutarch’s religion, and related studies, up to 1977 can be found in my book, F.E. Brenk, In Mist Apparelled. Religious Themes in Plutarch’s Moralia and Lives (Leiden, 1977). The books by Hamilton, Griffiths, Corlu, Hani, Flacelière’s introductions to the Pythian dialogues, and D. Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme (Paris, 1969), contain a great amount on Plutarch’s religious attitudes. Among studies concentrating on this aspect of his thought are: K.J.L.M. Eichhoff, Über Plutarchs religiös-sittliche Weltansicht (Elberfeld, 1833); T. Schreiter, De doctrina Plutarchi theologica et morali (Leipzig, 1838); G.G. Nitzsch, De Plutarcho Theologo et Philosopho Populari (Kiel, 1849); J.K. Pohl, Die Dämonologie des Plutarch (Breslau, 1860); O. Gréard, De la morale de Plutarque (Paris, 1866); R. Fabricius, Zur religiösen Anschauungsweise des Plutarch (Königsberg, 1879); R. Schmertosch, De Plutarchi sententiarum quae ad divinationem spectant origine (Leipzig, 1889); J.D. Bierens de Haan, Plutarchus als godsdienstig Denker (The Hague, 1902); J. Oakesmith, The Religion of Plutarch (London, 1902); T. Eisele, “Zur Dämonologie des Plutarch von Chäronea,” Arch. für Gesch. der Philos. 17 (1904) 29–51; W. Schaefer, Der Gottesbegriff Plutarchs im Lichte der christlichen Weltanschauung (Regensburg, 1908); G. Abernetty, De Plutarchi Qui Fertur de Superstitione Libello (Regensburg, 1911); L. Valentin, “L’idée de dieu dans Plutarque,” Rev. Thomiste 14 (1914) 313–327; R.M. Jones, The Platonism of Plutarch (Menasha, Wisconsin 1916); B. Latzarus, Les idées religieuses de Plutarque (Paris, 1920); P. Geigenmüller, “Plutarchs Stellung zur Religion und Philosophie seiner Zeit,” Neue Jb. klass. Alt. 47 (1921) 251–270; H. von Arnim, Plutarch über Dämonen und Mantik (Amsterdam, 1921); H.J. Rose, The Roman Questions of Plutarch (Oxford, 1924); idem, The Greek Questions of Plutarch (Oxford, 1928); G. Méautis, “Plutarque et l’ orphisme,” in Mélanges Gustave Glotz i (Paris, 1932) 575–585; M. Codignola, “La formazione spirituale di Plutarco e la sua personalità filosofico-religiosa,” Civiltà Moderna 9 (1934) 471– 490; A. Ferro, “Le idee religiose di Plutarco,” Arch. della Cult. Ital. 2 (1940) 173–232; M. Hadas, “The Religion of Plutarch,” Rev. of Rel. 6 (1941–1942) 270–282; G. Soury, La démonologie de Plutarque (Paris, 1942); A.M. Pizzagalli, “Plutarco e il cristianismo,” Atene e Roma 10 (1943) 97–102; R. del Re, “Il pensiero metafisico di Plutarco: Dio, la natura, il male,” Stud. Ital. di Filol. Class. 24 (1950) 33–64; H. Erbse, “Plutarchs Schrift Περὶ δεισιδαιμονίας,” Hermes 80 (1952) 295– 314; H. Cherniss and W.C. Helmbold, Plutarch’s Moralia xii, 2–223 (The Face on the Moon); S. Szydelski, “The Divinity according to Plutarch” (in Polish), Rocz. i Teol. Kanon. 7 (1960) 93–101; J. Moellering, Plutarch on Superstition (Boston, 1963); B. Mackay, “Plutarch and the Miraculous,” in C.F.D. Moule (ed.), Miracles. Studies in Their Philosophy and History (Lon-

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_003

8

part 1, introduction

the primarily immanentist intellectual models of the Hellenistic world to the transcendental ones which were to characterize much of the thought of the Roman Empire.2 A great debt is owed to two scholars of recent memory, Robert don, 1965) 93–113; M.L. Danieli, “Plutarco a Delfi: Note sulla religiosità plutarchea,” Nuovo Didaskaleion 15 (1965) 5–23; R. del Re, “De Plutarcho Chaeronensi immortalitatis animorum assertore,” Latinitas 13 (1965) 184–192; P. Merlan, “The Later Academy and Platonism,” in A.H. Armstrong (ed.), The Cambridge History of Later Greek and Early Medieval Philosophy (Cambridge, 1967) 53–64; E.D. Phillips, “Plutarque, interprête de Zoroastre,” in Association Guillaume Budé, Actes du viiie Congrès (Paris, 1969) 506–511; F.E. Brenk, “Le songe de Brutus,” ibid., 588–594; J.G. Griffiths, Plutarch. De Iside et Osiride (Cambridge, 1970); F.E. Brenk, “ ‘A Most Strange Doctrine’, Daimon in Plutarch,” cj 69 (1973) 1–11; idem, “From Mysticism to Mysticism: The Religious Development of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” sbl Sem. Papers 1 (1975) 193–198; R. Flacelière, “La théologie selon Plutarque,” in P. Gros & J.-P. Morel (eds.), Mélanges de philosophie, de littérature et d’histoire ancienne (Rome, 1974) 273–280; J. Hani, La religion égyptienne dans la pensée de Plutarque (Paris, 1976); H. Dörrie, Platonica Minora (Munich, 1976); M. Baltes, Die Weltentstehung des Platonischen Timaios nach den antiken Interpreten i (Leiden, 1976); Y. Vernière, Symboles et mythes dans la pensée de Plutarque. Essai d’ interprétation philosophique et religieuse des Moralia (Paris, 1977); H. Dörrie, “Gnostische Spuren bei Plutarch,” in R. Van den Broek and M.J. Vermaseren (eds.), Studies in Gnosticism and Hellenistic Religions (Leiden, 1981) 92–117; J. Whittaker, “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” in H.J. Blumethal and R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought (London, 1981) 64–78; P.G. Walsh, “Apuleius and Plutarch,” ibid., 20–31; A. Aloni and G. Guidorizzi, Il demone di Socrate, I ritardi della punizione divina (De genio Socratis, De sera numinis vindicta) (Milan, 1982); C.J. De Vogel, “Der sogennante Mittelplatonismus, überwiegend eine Philosophie der Diesseitigkeit?,” in H.-D. Blume & F. Mann (eds.), Platonismus und Christentum (Münster, 1983) 277–302. 2 H. Dörrie, “ ‘Der Weise vom Roten Meer:’ Eine okkulte Offenbarung durch Plutarch als Plagiat entlarvt,” in P. Händel and W. Meid (eds.), Festschrift für R. Muth (Innsbruck, 1983) 95–110; P. Borgeaud, “La mort du grand Pan,” Rev. Hist. Rel. 200 (1983) 3–39; V. Citti, “Plutarco, Nic. 1.5,” in A. Mastrocinquie (ed.), Storiografia e biografia (Padua, 1983) 99–110; D. Babut, “La doctrine démonologique dans le De Genio Socratis de Plutarque: cohérence et fonction,” L’ Inform. Lit. 35 (1983) 201–205. The new index to the Teubner volumes of the Lives contains a bibliography to the Lives and an index of names of gods, men, and places, besides an index correlating the listing of the Lives with the Teubner volumes: K. Ziegler and H. Gartner, Plutarchus. Vitae Parallelae iv: Indices (Leipzig, 1980). Of the two volumes edited by H.D. Betz, Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden, 1975) and Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden, 1978), the first contains, besides the studies mentioned in the notes, the following pertinent ones: H.D. Betz & E.W. Smith, “De Iside et Osiride (Moralia 351c–384c),” 36–84; idem, “De E apud Delphos (Moralia 384c–394c),” 85–102; W.G. Rollins, “De Pythiae oraculis (Moralia 394d–409d),” 103–130; K.O. Wicker, “De defectu oraculorum (Moralia 409e–438e),” 131–180; H.D. Betz, P.A. Dirkse, & E.W. Smith, “De sera numinis vindicta (Moralia 548a–568a),” 181–235; W.A. Beardslee, “De facie quae in orbe lunae apparet (Moralia 920a–945d),” 286–300; D.E. Aune, “De esu carnium orationes i and ii

part 1, introduction

9

Flacelière of France and Heinrich Dörrie of Germany, who lately did most for the humanistic understanding and scholarly interpretation of Plutarch. The latter through his great love of France not only won the respect of his countrymen but the hearts of fellow classicists across the Rhine.3 (Moralia 993a–999b),” 301–316; H.D. Betz, “Fragmenta 21–23, 157–158, 176–178,” 317–324. As for the second volume, it includes H.D. Betz, “De tranquillitate animi (Moralia 464e–477f),” 198– 230; and H. Martin & J.E. Phillips, “Consolatio ad uxorem (Moralia 608a–612b),” 394–441; and H. Martin, “Amatorius (Moralia 748e–771e),” 442–537. 3 [en: after Brenk’s article the following studies of different aspects of Plutarch’s religion have been published: F.E. Brenk, “Lo Scrittore Silenzioso: Giudaismo e Cristianesimo in Plutarco,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 239–262; W. Burkert, “Plutarco: Religiosità Personale e Teologia Filosofica,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione. Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo (Ravello, 29–31 maggio 1995) (Naples, 1996), 11–28; F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch, Judaism and Christianity,” in M. Joyal (ed.), Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition: Essays Presented to John Whittaker (Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate, 1997) 97–117; A. Pérez Jiménez, “Ciencia, Religión y Literatura en El ‘Mito De Sila’ De Plutarco,” in M. Brioso Sánchez & F.J. González Ponce (eds.), Actitudes literarias en la Grecia romana (Sevilla: Libros Pórtico, 1998) 283–294; F.E. Brenk, “‘Isis Is a Greek Word’: Plutarch’s Allegorization of Egyptian Religion,” in A. Pérez, Jiménez, J. García López, & R. Aguilar Fernández (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles: Actas del v Congreso International de la i.p.s. (Madrid-Cuenca, 4–7 de Mayo De 1999) (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1999) 227–238; F.E. Brenk, Relighting the Souls: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1998); R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (Berlin; New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2005); F.E. Brenk, With Unperfumed Voice: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007); L. van der Stockt, F. Titchener, H.G. Ingenkamp, & Pérez Jiménez, A. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths and History of Religions in Plutarch’s Works. Studies Devoted to Professor Frederick E. Brenk by the International Plutarch Society (Málaga: Universidad de Málaga, 2010); F.E. Brenk, “Religion under Trajan: Plutarch’s Resurrection of Osiris,” in P. Stadter & L. van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor. Plutarch, Greek Intellectuals, and Roman Power in the Time of Trajan (98–117a.d.) (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002) 72–92; D. Olster, “Why the Oracles Do Not Speak (Like Before): Plutarch and the Riddle of Second-Century Religion,” Ploutarchos 22 (2005) 55–70; P.T.R. Gray, “Humor and Religion in Plutarch’s Writtings,” in A. Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco: studi offerti al professore Italo Gallo dall’International Plutarch Society (Málaga: Universidad de Málaga; Logan (Utah): Utah State University, 2005) 197–205; R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Aesthetics and Religious Hermeneutics in Plutarch,” ibidem, 207–213; P. Green, “Possession and Pneuma: The Essential Nature of the Delphic Oracle,” in M. Stefanou, & K. Bourazelis (eds.), Πρακτικά του Συμποσίου “Μύθος μετά λόγου: διάλογοι για την ουσία και τη διαχρονική αξία του αρχαίου Ελληνικού μύθου”: Αγ. Κήρυκος, Ικαρία, 17–20 Ιουνίου 2005 (Athens: Festival Ikarias, 2007) 159–176; F. Frazier, “Philosophie et religion dans la pensée de Plutarque: quelques réflexions autour des emplois du mot Πίστις,” Études Platoniciennes 5 (2008) 41–61; F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch and ‘Pagan Monotheism’,” in L. Roig Lanzillotta & I. Munoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012) 73–84.]

chapter 1

Life Surprisingly little of exactitude is known about the life of the greatest ancient biographer. Scholars debate both the date of his birth (between 40 and 45 ad), and death (between 120 and 125 ad). For the most part what we know of him must be gleaned from his writings.1 He was born in the small town of Chaironeia, for which he professed great loyalty, and was partial to the neighboring Boiotian city of Thebes. The plain, with its natural suitability for war, must have encouraged a sense of history in the young Plutarch, who later recalled with emotion the defeat of Athens there under Philip of Macedon and the armies of the imperator Sulla. Any admiration for Mark Antony would have been tempered by his great-grandfather’s recollections of being forced to carry grain down to Antikyra on the Corinthian gulf, under the whips of Antony’s agents (Antonius 68). His family, which kept horses, was reasonably wealthy, having connections with the local aristocracy, and attached to the famous shrine at Delphi. In his earlier years he seems to have traveled extensively in Greece, possibly having visited Smyrna, as Christopher P. Jones suggests (Anim. an corp. 501ef), but certainly Alexandria (Quaest. conv. 678c). While a young man he took part in a deputation, probably to represent Chaironeia, before the proconsul of Achaia (Praec. ger. 816c). Around 66 or 67ad he was “soon to join the Academy” after passing through training in mathematics, as a pupil of Ammonios. Just who this 1 The standard reference work for Plutarch’s life and writings is the re article, “Plutarchos,” xxi. 1 (1951) 636–962, by K. Ziegler, which appeared first in 1949 and then received some corrections and additions in the Stuttgart, 1964, 2nd edition, Plutarchos von Chaironeia. Since that time a somewhat unreliable and more popular study, although with some good observations, was produced by R.H. Barrow, Plutarch and His Times (London, 1967), largely based on Ziegler. An excellent contribution is C.P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome (Oxford, 1971). A.E. Wardman, Plutarch’s Lives (London, 1974), is a specialized study for the most part of ethical values of the heroes as they appear in the Lives. J.M. Dillon, The Middle Platonists (London, 1976), has an excellent chapter on Plutarch and his philosophical milieu. F.J. Frost, Plutarch, is to appear in Major World Writers (London, 1984). The Thesaurus Linguae Graecae computer project at Irvine, California now has the entire Plutarch on computer. For an index see E. Simon, Plutarque, Vies xvi. Index des noms propres (Paris, 1983). J. Barthelmess is preparing a critical bibliography for Classical World. [en: J. Barthelmess, “Recent Work on the Moralia,” in F.E. Brenk & I. Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea Plutarchea, Atti del I Convegno di Studi su Plutarco (Roma, 23 novembre 1985) (Ferrara, 1986).]

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_004

life

11

Ammonios was, what his exact relationship to the Academy—if the Academy really existed then—and where he came from, are matters of some speculation. We are grateful to Christopher P. Jones and John Dillon for unraveling many of these knots and for illuminating the intellectual and political background of our hero.2 Later travels are difficult to determine. He indicates that he had visited Rome several times, but it is impossible to date these trips. In De curiositate 522de he relates an incident about a certain Rusticus refusing to open a letter delivered him from the emperor until the lecture was over. Jones believes that this Rusticus was probably the consul of 92 ad who was executed in 93 (for having in his biography of Paetus Thrasea—or Thrasea Paetus— called his subject sanctus (ἱερός), Dio 67.13.2; though Tacitus does not mention the sanctus part [Agricola 2] and Plutarch puts the matter more strongly, that Domitian liter killed him out of envy of his reputation τῇ δόξῃ φθονήσας, 522e).3 As A. Momigliano points out, Rusticus would have been influenced by the new school of Roman humanistic biography which had centered around Cornelius Nepos at the end of the Republic.4 D. Babut felt that Plutarch may have been strongly influenced by Rusticus in his life of Cato, and that his personal friendship with this Stoic moderated his antagonistic attitude toward the phi-

2 C.P. Jones, “The Teacher of Plutarch,” HSCPh 71 (1966) 205–213; idem, Plutarch and Rome, 9, 13, 16–18, 67; Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 189–192. Ziegler, Plutarchos, 15, without implying Alexandrian connections. See also L. Pearson & F.H. Sandbach, Plutarch, Moralia xi (London / Cambridge, Mass. 1965) 219. 3 On this see Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 23; Barrow, Plutarch and His Times, 38; A.N. SherwinWhite, The Letters of Pliny (Oxford, 1966) 95; D.A. Russell, “On Reading Plutarch’s Moralia,” Greece and Rome 15 (1968) 130–146, here 132, note 7. J. Glucker, Antiochus and the Late Academy (Göttingen, 1978), believes that Plutarch learned his Platonism from Ammonios as a private tutor, before he and his brother Lamprias entered the Academy. He notes that Plutarch never mentions his own personal connection with the Academy where we would expect him to, rather drawing upon the sceptical Academy for arguments against the Stoics and Epicureans. Glucker suggests that the Academy was a gymnasion at the time of Plutarch, that Plutarch and his brother joined it not for philosophical purposes but for the ephebeia (Athenian training for youths between 18 and 20) (270–271). He also discounts the possibility of any kind of school of Antiochos in Alexandria which could have been a direct influence on Eudoros (96–97). However, he seems unnecessarily to play down the transmission of Antiochos’ ideas into Alexandria. J. Geiger, “Munatius Rufus and Thrasea Paetus on Cato the Younger,” Athenaeum 67 (1979) 48–72, has tried to reconstruct from the pages of Plutarch’s Life of Cato, the works dedicated to the hero by Curtius Rufus and Thrasea. 4 A. Momigliano, The Development of Greek Biography (Cambridge, Mass. 1971) 97–99, mentions the circle of Nepos. He finds Valerius Maximus and Plutarch “unthinkable” without Nepos (98).

12

part 1, chapter 1

losophy of that school.5 Perhaps one might say that this friendship was not incompatible with a dislike for Stoic philosophy. Plutarch, like Suetonius and Tacitus—as Momigliano noted—refused to become a lackey of the felicitas temporum. Besides the possibility that he stimulated Plutarch’s interest in biography, his execution under Domitian would have contributed to Plutarch’s contempt for that emperor. Yet it must be noted that all we know for certain is that Plutarch attended a lecture by Rusticus. Plutarch’s friend Avidius Quietus, also a follower of Thrasea, escaped punishment, but Domitian followed the trials of this circle with the expulsion of the philosophers from Rome and Italy. Among them may have been Plutarch. The enormous importance of Cornelius Nepos on the composition of the Parallel Lives has recently been studied by J. Geiger.6 He argues convincingly that the Hellenistic lives in the series were “stepchildren,” that Plutarch began with lives from the classical period, most and perhaps all contained in Nepos’ De Viris Illustribus, and that Plutarch’s heavy selection of Roman lives from the late Republican period was due to Nepos. Geiger finds it especially significant that the last of the Lives from a historical perspective is that of Antony, “one of his most splendid achievements of character drawing and description,” and he suggests that the conception and many details were inspired by a life of Antony by Nepos. C.B.R. Pelling, in a very penetrating study on the sources of the Roman lives in the parallel series, asserts that Plutarch became heavily dependent upon Asinius Pollio, who became his principal source for the fifties, forties, and thirties.7 Once he discovered Pollio, sometime after writing Cicero and Lucullus, the detail and quality of the Lives improved enormously. Pelling thinks it impossible to determine whether he ever read Pollio at first hand, or even found him in translation, but that his material certainly came from an historical, not biographical source.8

5 Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 239. 6 J. Geiger, “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives: The Choice of the Heroes,” Hermes 109 (1981) 85–104. 7 C.B.R. Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method of Work in the Roman Lives,” jhs 99 (1979) 74–96, esp. 84– 85. See also idem, “Plutarch’s Adaptation of His Source Material,” jhs 100 (1980) 127–140. In his review of B. Scardigli, “Die Römerbiographien Plutarchs,” jrs 72 (1982) 216–217, however, Pelling suggests the great cultural gap between Greeks and Romans in Plutarch’s time, in spite of the political unification. Plutarch’s relationship to the Roman world of his time is discussed at some length in G.J.D. Aalders, Plutarch’s Political Thought (Amsterdam, 1982). 8 [en: more recent work on the Lives by C.B.R. Pelling: “Is Death the End?: Closure in Plutarch’s Lives,” in D. Roberts, F.M. Dunn, & D. Fowler (eds.), Classical Closure: Endings in Ancient Literature (Princeton, 1997) 228–250; idem, “Dionysiac Diagnostics: Some Hints of Dionysus in

life

13

Plutarch, as Jones notes, lived in a world which was truly a commingling of Greek and Roman. Among his Roman friends were Avidius Quietus, proconsul of Achaia in 91/92 ad, L. Mestrius Florus, suffect consul and proconsul of Asia (It is noteworthy that Plutarch’s Roman name was Mestrius.), Julius Secundus, one of the chief speakers of the Roman forum in Vespasian’s day, Nigrinus, the brother of Avidius Quietus, and the younger Nigrinus, who held consular command under Trajan in Dacia and was executed by Hadrian, Q. Sosius Senecio, twice consul, to whom the Lives and Quaest. conv. were dedicated, Saturninus, probably L. Herennius Saturninus, proconsul of Achaia in 98/99 ad, C. Minicius Fundanus, suffect consul in 107 ad, allotted the province of Asia in 122/123ad, a mysterious person, probably a senator, named Paccius, Terentius Priscus, most likely the compatriot and patron of the poet Martial, Sextius Sulla of Carthage, an eques, possibly, or a minor senator, Aufidius Modestus, probably the commentator on Vergil’s Georgics. Jones takes Favorinus to be a Roman, most likely of equestrian rank, who managed to live to a respectable old age in spite of a quarrel with Hadrian, though Ziegler identified him with the famous sophist of Arelate, the disciple of Dion of Prousa. Among non-Romans was Philoppapos, grandson of the last king of Commagene, suffect consul in 109 ad, whose tomb still stands on the Hill of the Muses at Athens. His bilingual monument, on the left Latin, on the right Greek, name, tribe, and honors as a Roman on the one, royal titles and ancestors on the other, truly symbolizes Plutarch’s world. There are some links with the world of Roman literature, though outside of the historical writings and antiquarian literature Plutarch seems strangely ignorant of it. There was Rusticus, and Julius Secundus, whose pupil was Tacitus, and C. Minicius Fundanus, a correspondent of the younger Pliny, then Terentius Priscus, and Aufidius Modestus, commentator on Vergil, concerning whom Plutarch seems ignorant. If his Roman friends did introduce him to something of Roman poetry, there is little evidence of this in his work. Once he

Plutarch’s Lives,” in J.G. Montes Cala, M. Sánchez Ortiz De Landaluce, & R.J. Gallé Cejudo (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el vino: Actas del vi simposio español sobre Plutarco, Cádiz, 14–16 de mayo de 1998 (Cádiz, 1999) 359–368; idem, “Parallel Narratives: the Liberation of Thebes in De Genio Socratis and in Pelopidas,” in A.G. Nikolaïdis (ed.), The Unity of Plutarch’s Work: Moralia Themes in the Lives. Features of the Lives in the Moralia (Berlin; New York: de Gruyter, 2008) 539–556; idem, “ ‘With Thousand such Enchanting Dreams: The Dreams of the Lives Revisited’,” in L. van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 315–331; idem, “Plutarch’s Tale of Two Cities: Do the Parallel Lives Combine as Global Histories?,” in N. Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives: Parallelism and Purpose (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2010) 217–235.]

14

part 1, chapter 1

quotes it (Horace in Lucullus 39), and this may be at second hand. He apologizes for his poor Latin, and whatever amount he possessed undoubtedly had to do double duty in the service of his Bioi and investigations into Roman religion, a matter sensibly treated in D.A. Russell’s excellent general study of Plutarch.9 Sometime in mature life, perhaps under Domitian, Plutarch became one of the two permanent priests at Delphi, probably before, like his friends, serving in other official capacities associated with the shrine. From this time on we can presume that he devoted much effort to propaganda on behalf of the shrine, something evidenced by his Pythian dialogues and numerous references to Delphi in the Lives. With the assassination of Domitian in September 96, as Jones suggests, he might breathe easier, and in this period he reached the height of his career, being elected epimelete of the Amphiktyons, supervising the erection of Hadrian’s statue, and, already having received the ornamenta consularia under Trajan, perhaps recipient of the procuratorship of Greece under Hadrian. If we can believe Artemidoros, he died of a painful illness as he approached his eightieth year, and the citizens of Delphi and Chaironeia dutifully erected a monument to honor him, a humane man who hated bloodshed and tempered a realistic attitude toward the world of politics with a search for the best in men and society, and exercised tolerant indulgence when for the most part he could not find it.10 The chronology of Plutarch’s writings has been attacked by numerous scholars as an interesting problem with which to exercise ingenuity and scholarly method. The most successful and ample attempt is that by Jones, though at the most crucial moments he lets us down through lack of information.11 In general the Lives and major religious treatises belong to his mature period. Most scholars, with some stylistic help, hold his more rhetorical works to be early, place the philosophical in a middle position, and regard the major religious treatises as late. However, there are difficulties. His religious works can be divided into the following classifications:

9

10 11

D.A. Russell, Plutarch (London, 1973), is particularly good on Plutarch’s style in the broad sense. [en: F. Graf, “Plutarco e la Religione Romana,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione, 269–283.] I am indebted to C.P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 1–64, for this section. On the ornamenta see 34 and note 44; on Roman friends, 51–62. C.P. Jones, “Towards a Chronology of Plutarch’s Works,” jrs 56 (1966) 51–74.

life

15

i. ii.

Early’ Pythagorean type works: De sollertia,12 Gryllos, De esu carnium. De superstitione, puzzling for its criticism of the superstitious practices later tolerated by the author, but meant to represent a balance between atheism and superstition. iv. A number of highly rhetorical works on tyche: De fortuna, De fortuna Rom., De Alexandri fortuna, De gloria Ath. v. Philosophical works which touch on religion: for example, De animae procreatione, De stoic. repugn., Non posse, De lat. viv. vi. Works showing a general interest in religious topics, often of a comparative nature: Quaest. Rom., Quaest. Graec., Quaest. conv. (probably quite late, representing at times the same line of thought as De Iside). vii. Delphic dialogues: De defectu, De E, De Pythiae oraculis. viii. Dialogues with strong eschatological overtones: De sera, De genio, De facie. In general, chronology is not all that important, nor can we know if a work was immediately “published” after it was written. Cross references, for example, in the Lives may be as confusing and misleading as helpful. We would like to know which of the Pythian dialogues came first or second, and the order of the ‘eschatological’ treatises. These are subject to much debate, but Flacelière’s

12

[en: on De sollertia see H. Martin, “Plutarch’s De sollertia animalium 959 b.c. the Discussion of the Encomium of Hunting,” American Journal of Philology 100 (1979) 99–106; F.J. Tovar Paz, “Motivos de Ambientación Geográfica y Social en De Sollertia Animalium de Plutarco,” Estudios clásicos 36 (1994) 81–89; T. Silva Sánchez, “Ribetes Paradoxográficos en De Sollertia Animalium De Plutarco,” in Montes Cala et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el vino, 471–479; K.A. Jazdzewska, “Not an ‘innocent Spectacle’: Hunting and uenationes in Plutarch’s De Sollertia Animalium,”Ploutarchos 7 (2010) 35–45; P. Li Causi, “Granchi, uomini e altri animali: la genesi della violenza nel de Sollertia animalium di Plutarco,” V. Andò & N. Cusumano (eds.), Come bestie? Forme e paradossi della violenza tra mondo antico e disagio contemporaneo (Caltanissetta: Salvatore Sciascia editore, 2010) 189–208; T. Silva Sánchez, “Sobre el Monólogo de Fédimo en De sollertia animalium,” in A. Pérez Jiménez & F. Bordoy Casadesús (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco, misticismo y religiones mistéricas en la obra de Plutarco: Actas del vii Simposio español sobre Plutarco: Palma de Mallorca, 2–4 de Noviembre de 2000 (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 2001) 565–577; J.M. Mossman, “Plutarch on Animals: Rhetorical Strategies in De Sollertia Animalium,” Hermathena 179 (2005) 141– 163; K.A. Jazdzewska, “ ‘Like a Married Woman’: The Kingfisher in Plutarch’s De Sollertia Animalium and in the Ps.-Platonic Halcyon,” Mnemosyne 68 (2015) 424–436.]

16

part 1, chapter 1

attempt to put De Pythiae oraculis last in the Delphic series makes sense, and De genio in the matter of “hypostases” seems to be an advance over the other dialogues of this type.13 13

Ziegler, Plutarchos, 194, and R. del Re, Il dialogo sull’estinzione degli oracoli (Naples, 1934), and idem, De E delphico (Naples, 1936), preferred a relatively short time between the Delphic works, while R. Flacelière, “Plutarque et la Pythie,” reg 56 (1943) 72–111 at 72, and idem, Plutarque. Œuvres morales vi, 40, prefers a later date (around 125 ad) for De Pythiae oraculis.

chapter 2

The Development of Plutarch’s Religious Ideas, and His Religious Works Nineteenth century German scholars sketched for Plutarch a period of youthful skepticism (flowing from the pages of De superstitione) to one in later life of religiöser Tiefsinn und Hang zur Mystik.1 Such a development is still reflected in the pages of Ziegler and Flacelière.2 Such a treatment overlooks the Neopythagorean elements of the “youthful” De esu, so similar in tone to the fifteenth book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, if we can substitute youthful ardor for established wit, or the Gryllos, where Plutarch is as witty as Ovid, De sollertia and De amore prolis, where Pythagorean sympathy for animals emerges again, and his own testimony and description of himself in De E as interested in number mysticism along Pythagorean lines before entering the Academy (387f). In two of his Symposiacs (Quaest. conv. 8.8 and 2.3) there are indications that he always had leanings toward vegetarianism. In the first (728d–730d) he expresses the opinion that the Delphic oracle gave a divine sanction for eating flesh only after mankind was threatened with starvation when animals threatened crops, and that it still is difficult to justify eating fish, a “luxurious food.” In the other, a discussion of whether the bird or the egg came first (635e–638a), with humorous Orphic and Pythagorean overtones, his friends suspect him of abstaining from eggs on religious grounds, though he explains his practice as an attempt to prevent the recurrence of a bothersome dream. There are indications also that he was brought up in an environment in which Neopythagoreanism was familiar. His father, Autoboulos, is given the role of main speaker in defense of Pythagoreanism in De sollertia, reflecting the spirit of Neopythagoreanism of that time, such as we find it in the 15th book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, where the slaughter of innocent animals has led eventually to the slaughter of men. There are similarities here with Plutarch’s De esu, though in the latter, the possibility that human souls may be reincarnated 1 So Hirzel, Plutarch (Leipzig, 1912) 8–10. Hirzel puts two focal points in Plutarch’s life, at Athens learning scepticism, at Delphi “religiöser Tiefsinn und Hang zur Mystik.” 2 For example in “Plutarque et la Pythie,” 111, “il en vint à sentir plus ‘théologien’ encore que ‘philosophe’ et sans renier à la ‘philosophie’ à ne plus voir en elle que l’humble servante de la théologie, ancilla theologiae.” On this see my article Brenk, “From Mysticism to Mysticism,” 193–198.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_005

18

part 1, chapter 2

in animal form is proposed as a deterrent to eating flesh, even if the doctrine cannot be proved. If we can judge by Quaest. conv. 1.2 (615d–619b), where a dispute occurs within the family over seating people by rank, and a more general discussion on taxis, Plutarch was closer to his father than his brothers. Ziegler, at any rate, felt that he may have inherited Pythagorean leanings from his father. Finally, among his close friends was Philinos, a vegetarian, who grew up with him in Chaironeia, traveled with him to Rome on his second journey, possibly was on his Egyptian tour, and was a life-long friend (Quaest. conv. 728b). A sample of this mentality can be seen in the opening of De esu, where the description of the carnage is similar to that describing the innocent children slaughtered by the Carthaginians, who are in fact in De superstitione (171d) depicted in terms of so many lambs and birds, done in a highly rhetorical style which is considered characteristic of Plutarch’s youthful writings: Pythagoras’ horror of flesh-eating, the bellowing and cries of the animals, the horror of the first man “touching his mouth to gore,” “the eating of dead, stale, bodies,” the slitting of throats and tearing limb from limb, the stench, pollution, and “contact with the sores and wounds of others.” Ovid seems to parody this type of description in the Pythagorean book of the Metamorphoses (15). Plutarch’s early life would then have been immersed in that stream of the Platonic-Pythagorean revival prominent in those cities he visited, Alexandria and Rome. This strain of thought infiltrates a great amount of his work and led Zeller to characterize him long ago as a pythagorisierender Platoniker, an insight which modern scholars are beginning to appreciate more and more.3 Even before he met his teacher Ammonios, who apparently had similar though 3 Philosophie der Griechen (Leipzig; 3rd ed., 1909 [1852]) 193. For comparison with other contemporary writers see J. Whittaker, “Ammonius on the Delphic E,” cq 19 (1969) 185–192, who shows close parallels, as for example in the ages of man. For more on De E, see H.D. Betz and E.W. Smith, “Plutarch, De E apud Delphos,” Nov. Test. 13 (1971) 217–235. Plutarch’s horror of human sacrifice, influenced by his Pythagorean tendencies, reveals itself in his Lives. The historical accuracy of the account of the sacrifice of the Persians at Salamis in Themistokles 13, and its relationship to Greek ritual is treated by A. Henrichs, “Human Sacrifice in Greek Religion,” in Le sacrifice dans l’ antiquité (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1981) 195–235 (208–224). Henrichs, who regards Plutarch’s account (from Phainias) as a fiction, believes most accounts of human sacrifice in Greek history are fictional, and that where it occurred it was directed against marginal persons. For the sacrifice at Leuktra, Pelopidas 20–22, see J. Buckler, “Plutarch on Leuktra,” so 55 (1980) 75–93; W. Burkert, Structure and History in Greek Mythology and Ritual (Berkeley, 1979) 74–75; A. Henrichs, “Human Sacrifice,” 206; J. Fontenrose, The Delphic Oracle (Berkeley, 1978) 147, and Brenk, In Mist Apparelled, 49–64, esp. 55–56. [en: now see also F. Ferrari, “La Costruzione del Platonismo nel De E apud Delphos di Plutarco,” Athenaeum 98 (2010) 71–87.]

the development of plutarch’s religious ideas

19

more sophisticated training in philosophical speculation along the lines of Pythagorean Platonism, Plutarch was emotionally well advanced in this direction.4 The exact nature of Plutarch’s philosophical training is unknown. Recently Dörrie, Whittaker, and Dillon have suggested that Plutarch’s teacher, Ammonios, brought with him from Alexandria a Pythagorean type of Platonism in which God becomes the supreme reality, described in terms of the Platonic Forms, contrasting with the flux of the phenomenal world, and in which the goal of life, or telos, for man is assimilation to God as far as possible (ὁμοίωσις θεῷ κατὰ τὸ δυνατόν).5 Where Dörrie and Dillon differ in their interpretation of Plutarch’s training is in their conception of its orthodoxy. Dörrie doubts whether Plutarch and Ammonios were ever in the Academy.6 Dillon doubts whether the Academy really existed in Plutarch’s day. But while Dörrie finds Plutarch’s brand of Platonism a radical departure from traditional Platonic teaching and in contrast to that of other Middle Platonists, Dillon finds him quite orthodox, making the natural systematizations and following the natural development of other Middle Platonists.7 In fact the very points which Dörrie 4 [en: see A. Eunyoung Ju, “Posidonius as Historian of Philosophy: An Interpretation of Plutarch, De animae procreatione in Timaeo 22, 1023b–c,” in Malcolm Schofield (ed.), Aristotle, Plato and Pythagoreanism in the First Century bc: New Directions for Philosophy (Cambridge University Press, 2013) 95–117.] 5 [en: See F. Becchi, “Plutarco e la dottrina dell’ Ὁμοίωσις Θεῷ tra Platonismo e Aristotelismo,” I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione 321–335.] 6 [en: On Ammonius, see now J. Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius, a Philosophical Profile,” Mauro Bonazzi & Jan Opsomer (eds.), The Origins of the Platonic System: Platonisms of the Early Empire and their Philosophical Contexts (Louvain/Namur/Paris/Walpole, ma: Éditions Peeters; Société des Études Classiques, 2009) 123–186.] 7 H. Dörrie, “Die Stellung Plutarchs im Platonismus seiner Zeit,” in R.B. Palmer and R. Hamerton-Kellyn (eds.), Philomathes. Studies and Essays in the Humanities in Memory of Philip Merlan (The Hague, 1971) 36–56, an enlarged version of his talk at the Budé Congrès (“Le platonisme de Plutarque,” 519–529): J. Whittaker, “Ammonius,” 185–192; Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 189–191. See also H. Dörrie, “Der Platoniker Eudoros von Alexandreia,” Hermes 79 (1944) 25–38; and idem, “Le renouveau du platonisme à l’époque de Cicéron,” Rev. Théol. Philos. 24 (1974) 1–29; and idem, “Die Erneuerung des Platonismus im ersten Jahrhundert vor Christus,” in Act. du Coll. Royaumont (Paris, 1971) 17–33 (the first and the third article reprinted in idem, Platonica Minora ([Munich, 1976]) 297–309 and 154–165). Hani and Griffiths in their commentaries on De Iside note the Pythagorean tendencies in this essay, but Hani, 163, observes that the a-pollon etymology for the sun, goes back to Chrysippos (Macrob. 1.17.7 [svf ii, 1095, 31]). H.J. Krämer, Der Ursprung der Geistmetaphysik. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Platonismus zwischen Platon und Plotin (Amsterdam, 1964) 92–126, and in scattered references through his Platonismus und hellenistische Philosophie (Berlin, 1971), sees

20

part 1, chapter 2

takes to be most “heretical” are often points of “orthodoxy” for Dillon, and one might ask whether the question of orthodoxy is the best one to raise.8 In analyzing Plutarch’s philosophical position Dörrie finds the following ideas a deviation from Schulplatonismus: the soul as not just created by God but as part of him and out of him, thus destroying the doctrine of principles (Quaest. Plat. 1001bc) (the principles being God, Ideas, Matter), God as the paradeigma (De sera 550d), God among the intelligibles (Quaest. Plat. 1002b), and the final ascent of the soul after death (a second death here, the separation of psyche and nous) to join the world of Ideas, going off to become as pure intelligible, the intelligible central fire (De facie 944e). Dillon concentrates mainly on Ammonios’ speech at the end of De E, De Iside, and De genio.9 In his view all Middle Platonists after Eudoros—whom, like Dörrie, he feels to be an important link in the new development reflected in Plutarch—held the supreme object (telos) of human life to be likeness to God rather than conformity with nature. Authors have used Plutarch’s text on the telos in De sera (550d) in different ways. Here Plutarch claims that God in Plato (Theaitetos 176e) offers Himself as a pattern (paradeigma) of all good things (πάντα καλά, translated as “excellence” by De Lacy and Einarson),10 thus rendering human excellence (or

8

9

10

Plutarch as important for the movement of which he was a part, an innovative thinker, not just a systematizer. [en: See now L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch at the Crossroads of Religion and Philosophy,” in idem & Israel Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012) 1–21]. He would see his influence most strongly upon De Iside (strangely omitting a discussion of the end of De E). Ideas in Plutarch such as that of God, Nous, the One, Logos, World Soul, Ideas, the Kosmos, etc., not to speak of the demonology, he would see as strongly influenced by Xenokrates. His interpretation is somewhat different, then, from that of Dörrie and others. They would see a slower development, and more Alexandrian influence in Plutarch’s “Neo-platonic” ideas regarding the relationship between the divinity and the world. [en: On Plutarch’s Platonism, see now F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God: About to Enter (Or Remake) the Academy,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 27–49; and the chapter on Plutarch in G.E. Karamanolis, Plato and Aristotle in Agreement: Platonists on Aristotle from Antiochus to Porphyry (Oxford: Clarendon, 2006) 85–126]. [en: T. Thum, “ ‘Welche Fülle von Reden’: Plutarchs Schrift De E Apud Delphos,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold, H. Görgemanns, M. von Albrecht (eds.), Religiöse Philosophie und philosophische Religion der frühen Kaiserzeit. Literaturgeschichtliche Perspektiven (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 237–250.] De sera 550d: Ἀλλὰ σκοπεῖτε πρῶτον, ὅτι κατὰ Πλάτωνα πάντων καλῶν ὁ θεὸς ἑαυτὸν ἐν μέσῳ παράδειγμα θέμενος τὴν ἀνθρωπίνην ἀρετήν, ἐξομοίωσιν οὖσαν ἁμωσγέπως πρὸς αὑτόν,

the development of plutarch’s religious ideas

21

virtue [arete]) in some way an assimilation (ἐξομοίωσις) to Himself (Politeia 613ab, Theaitetos 176b), for all who can “follow God” (ἕπεσθαι θεῷ, a supposedly Pythagorean saying, cf. Leges 716b, Phaidros 248a). Plutarch then compares this to the origin of the kosmos where “universal nature” (ἡ πάντων φύσις) became a kosmos through a certain likeness (ὁμοίωσις) (Timaios 29e–30a; Plutarch, De animae procreatione 1014bc) and participation (μέθεξις) in the form and excellence of the divine (περὶ τὸ θεῖον ἰδέας καὶ ἀρετῆς). The greatest benefit a man can derive from God is to become established in arete through the imitation and pursuit of good and beautiful (things) (καλὰ καὶ ἀγαθά) in Him. One should note here that Plutarch is thinking in terms of moral imitation, not ontological, and primarily of moral patterning after God. Particularly interesting is Plutarch’s avoidance of the terms “the Good, the Beautiful” (τὸ καλόν, τὸ ἀγαθόν) which would explicitly put Plato’s main Forms in God or identify them with God. Instead he uses plurals which disguise the innovations. One can compare this passage with another suggesting God as the telos and apparently identifying him with the Platonic Forms of the Good and Beautiful (De facie 944e). Contrary, however, to the impression one might get at times from some of Dörrie’s earlier writings on Plutarch’s eschatology, he does not speak explicitly of an ascent of souls through spheres, of going off to join the realm of the Ideas or the intelligible central fire, nor of becoming pure intelligibles. Dörrie gives great credit to Plutarch for moving a rather sterile school Platonism into a position where it could give men something to live for, a direction and goal in life, in which very old philosophical concepts were interpreted anew in a way most satisfying to the men of his time.11 In his portrayal of Plutarch’s position in the Platonism of his time, Dörrie long ago paid him great tribute for being attuned to the spiritual exigencies of his time and for molding Platonism to a new role by breaking with the sterile theorizing of the later Academy, and thus interpreting philosophy as a magistra vitae in a new light, the assistance to the soul in its striving after a destiny beyond this world, then by insisting on

11

ἐνδίδωσιν τοῖς ἕπεσθαι θεῷ δυναμένοις. καὶ γὰρ ἡ πάντων φύσις, ἄτακτος οὖσα, ταύτην ἔσχε τὴν ἀρχὴν τοῦ μεταβάλλειν καὶ γενέσθαι κόσμος, ὁμοιότητι καὶ μεθέξει τινὶ τῆς περὶ τὸ θεῖον ἰδέας καὶ ἀρετῆς … P.H. De Lacy and B. Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1967) 194. Dörrie, “Die Stellung Plutarchs,” 200. Dillon seems to read more into the idea of Logos than Plutarch gives it. Though Eros in Amatorius 764d may play the role of a Middle Platonic Logos, Plutarch is actually following Plato in the Symposion (Eros leads one to a vision of Beauty itself). However, it is interesting here that he treats Eros as the intelligible archetype of the sun, as Dillon points out.

22

part 1, chapter 2

a firm Platonic foundation for his endeavor when the “official” school was disinterested, creating for himself a distinctive position among the Platonists of his time.12 De superstitione is something of an anomaly and has been an embarrassment to those attempting to analyze Plutarch’s religious views and development. Though M. Smith recently has had doubts about its authenticity, and his observations should not be dismissed lightly, the ideas and thought patterns in it are reflected again and again, and it is a convenient place to begin to discuss Plutarch’s religious mentality, as H. Erbse realized.13 The theme of the essay is that superstition (deisidaimonia) is as bad as atheism; but the essay verges off quickly into a discussion of it as fear of the divinity, then into the satirization of a number of superstitious practices and beliefs. Frequently Plutarch’s writings are dominated by the topic at hand, and his youthful writings tend, like those of many youths, to go to extremes. Although it is difficult to contemplate him having written this at a later period, we frequently find similar criticisms of superstition or superstitious practice, sometimes in almost identical terminology throughout his works, and if his attitude changed on certain points, the subjects remained the same. Erbse has noted the striking similarity of many passages in this essay and in later works. A number of these similarities and dissimilarities within Plutarch’s work can be noted here. First there is a preoccupation with dreaming. Here the dreams of the superstitious are ridiculed, but in the Amatorius (764f) the dream world is described as that in which we are closest to a vision of the Forms, the true period of consciousness, while in De defectu 432c Lamprias explains that the faculty of prophecy appears mostly in dreams and at the hour of death when the soul is closer to release from the body, thus releasing the rational faculties 12 13

Dörrie, “Die Stellung Plutarchs,” 56. See especially his “Le renouveau du platonisme,” for the general movement. M. Smith, “De superstitione, Moralia 164e–171f,” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 1–8; H. Erbse, “Plutarchs Schrift Περὶ δεισιδαιμονίας,” 295–314. See also H. Braun, “Plutarch’s Critique of Superstition in the Light of the New Testament,” opiac 5 (1972) 193–198. E.R. Dodds’ picture of Greek religion was one of continuing accumulation of guilt feeling and anxiety leading to the acceptance of Christianity as an escape from rational responsibility. He made much of Plutarch’s De superstitione, contrasting it with Theophrastos’ “superstitious man,” The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley, 1951); see also idem, Pagan and Christian in an Age of Anxiety (Cambridge, 1968). One cannot entirely support this picture, which is much more complex, from Plutarch. For a corrective to Dodds, see R. Gordon, “Fear of Freedom? Selective Continuity in Religion during the Hellenistic Period,” Didaskalos 4 (1972) 48–60. See also the new introduction, text, translation and commentary, G. Lozza, Plutarco. De Superstitione (Milan, 1980).

the development of plutarch’s religious ideas

23

so they may turn into “the irrational and visionary.” It is significant that dreams are very important in the Lives and many come just before death. At De superstitione 166f–167b, somewhat in the mood of Plato, he ridicules descriptions of torments in the afterlife. This is surprising in view of his relish for the horrendous scenes of eschatological torment in his myths, especially that in De sera, where daimon torturers hurl the souls from one pool of molten metal to another. Yet in De lat. viv. 1130c–e and Non posse 1104a–1107c, a late essay, as H. Adam has observed, he finds torments of this sort inconsistent with the spirituality of the soul.14 He ridicules such torments in De virtute 450a and De aud. poet. 17c. In De E (394a), De lat. viv. (1130c–e), and De sera (564f), sometimes humorously against the Epicureans, he toys with the idea that eternal punishment consists of oblivion. But even Plutarch’s great eschatological myths are done with a touch of humor and wit lightening the otherwise horrendous scenes. An iconoclast strain is evident in De superstitione 167e–f, as H. Moellering has noted.15 This appears in a more respectful form in Perikles 39 and Ad princ. iner. 780e, where human beings are more representative of God than inanimate objects, in De Iside 382ab, where animals are better than inanimate objects, and in Numa 8, where he praises the absence of statues in Roman religion of the early days as a refined religious idea probably due to the influence of Pythagoras. In Camillus 6, Coriolanus 37–38, and De Pythiae oraculis 398c he reveals great uneasiness in the face of statue portents. In the Lives he passes over a number in his sources, though actually finding them most useful at other times.

14

15

For the dating of the essay, see C.P. Jones, Chronology, 72, and H. Adam, Plutarchs Schrift Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum (Amsterdam, 1974) 3–4 and 67–70; she cites W. Beck, Mythopoiie des Plutarch (Heidelberg, 1953) 57–85. See also O. Seel, “Zu Plutarchs Schrift De Latenter Vivendo,” in R. Hanslik, A. Lesky and H. Schwabl (eds.), Antidosis (Vienna, 1972) 357–380. Moellering, Plutarch on Superstition, 165–173. Older treatment can be found in C. Clerc, Les théories relatives au culte des images (Paris, 1915), also printed as idem, “Plutarque et le culte des images,” Rev. Hist. Rel. 70 (1914) 8–124. On the matter of early Roman statues, and problems of Neopythagorean interpretation which plague this section of Numa, see K. Latte, Römische Religionsgeschichte (Munich, 1960; 21967) 150, n. 1, and the reply of H. Wagenvoort, “Wesenszüge altrömischer Religion,” anrw i.2 (1972) 348–376, to G. Dumézil, La religion romaine archaïque (Paris, 1966) (English Translation: Archaic Roman Religion [Chicago, 1970]). For the miraculous in Plutarch, see Mackay, “Plutarch and the Miraculous,” 93–113, and G.T. Smith, The Importance of Miracle in the Religious Truth of Plutarch of Chaeronea (Diss. New York, 1972).

24

part 1, chapter 2

He attacks the superstitious belief in eclipses as portents at De superstitione 169a, though he uses them this way in the Lives, while at the same time treating them as scientific phenomena.16 He seems to have felt, as for example in Nikias 23 (the eclipse before Syracuse), that God works through natural causes. He relates here—rather strange to modern ears—that eclipses were a normal event, but that Nikias could have been saved by a good soothsayer.17 In Coniugalia praecepta 145cd he advocates coeducation on the grounds that women enlightened by astronomy would not be duped by witches like the famous Aglaonike of Thessaly. There is some contempt for “foreign cults” in De superstitione in contrast to the respect and tolerance shown them in De Iside, but the points of contact here are not all that exact. 16

17

The question of eclipses was intensively studied by Plutarch. See R. Flacelière, “Plutarque et les éclipses de la lune,”reg 53 (1951) 203–221; Ziegler, Plutarchos, 73–74; Cherniss’ introduction to De facie in the Loeb edition (Mor., xii, 1957); H. Görgemanns, Untersuchungen zu Plutarchs Dialog De facie in orbe lunae (Heidelberg, 1970), and the review by F.H. Sandbach, cr 23 (1973) 32–34, and H. Martin, “Plutarch’s De facie: The Recapitulation and the Lost Beginning,” grbs 15 (1974) 73–88. Sandbach admires the close interrelationship between physical and spiritual cosmology. He notes that Plutarch’s heterodoxy in treating the moon’s substance as earth was a lucky guess, influenced perhaps by non-scientific contexts such as the mythoi of the Pythagoreans and “space fiction,” that the doctrine had not been in vogue in philosophical schools for centuries before, and that it did not appear in scientific studies after Plutarch. See also R. Flacelière, “La lune selon Plutarque,” in P. Ducrey (ed.), Mélanges d’ histoire ancienne et d’archéologie (Paris, 1976) 193–195. A.W. Gomme (with A. Andrewes and K.J. Dover), A Historical Commentary on Thucydides iv (Oxford, 1970) 428, note how both modern and ancient authors have exaggerated Nikias’ superstition. They take the lsj definition of θειασμός as “superstition” to be erroneous, and define it “as a human utterance about the divine in an inspired state,” noting Thucydides 7.50.4: ἦ γάρ τι καὶ ἄγαν θειασμῷ τε καὶ τῷ τοιούτῳ προσκείμενος. See also Flacelière, Plutarque, Vies, vii (Paris, 1972) 132–139; Wardman, Plutarch’s Lives, 154–157; and P.A. Stadter, “Thucydidean Orators in Plutarch,” in P.A. Stadter (ed.), The Speeches in Thucydides (Chapel Hill, 1973) 109–123; and idem, “Plutarch’s Comparison of Pericles and Fabius Maximus,” grbs 16 (1975) 77–85, where he shows how Plutarch manipulates Thucydidean material. One can also consult, L. Gil, “La semblanza de Nicias en Plutarco,”E. Clas. 6 (1962) 404–450; F. Frost, Plutarch’s Themistocles. A Historical Commentary (Princeton, 1980) 3–39, on Plutarch’s use of Thucydides; and Citti, “Plutarco, Nic. 1.5,” 99–110.

chapter 3

Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Light of Alexandrian Middle Platonism Plato left many problems behind him in the realm of theology and in particular the concept of the divine. The Ideas or Forms in the Timaios, which also appear in Plutarch as paradeigmata, do not seem to receive as much prominence as they did in Plato’s middle period, considering that we take the Timaios as late. While retaining a certain place in the Timaios for the Ideas, Plato seems more interested in the intelligibility (logos or nous) of the kosmos itself and its relationship to disorder and non-teleological activity. This at least is the traditional approach to Plato’s theology in the Timaios and Laws and forms the basis for F. Solmsen’s approach toward Plato’s theology in his book which appeared 30 years ago.1 “God” becomes more and more identified with the intelligible principles of the universe and its creative power of self-organization. Though Solmsen does not say so, one might think of the approach of modern scientists like Einstein, who would see within matter rational principles and the power of self-organization.2 In the framework of Solmsen’s thought, the kosmos in Plato is divine, even called theos (Timaios 39de; 41bc; 68e; 92c). The older anthropomorphic concepts of Greek mythology are given by Plato affirmation on a higher level and on new ground through the orientation of the kosmos toward the Good and the realm of perfect Forms, and the realization of the operation of nous in it. Solmsen is still rather cautious, and one could take this line of thought a step further, as was done in the early Hellenistic period. All the noeton, nous, and the divine can be seen somehow as the rational, creative, intelligible principle within the material kosmos itself. Thus the extreme transcendence of Plato’s middle-period, as represented in the separation between unchangeable being and being in flux, the world of Forms and the phenomenal world, is united in an immanentist world sufficient in itself. How much of this was due to the growing importance and success of Greek science is hard to say. Solmsen believed that the Timaios was inspired through Plato’s indirect contact with Egyptian and

1 Plato’s Theology (Ithaca, New York, 1942) esp. 84–97, 114–121, and 123–141. 2 On this see F.W. Walbank, The Hellenistic World (Cambridge, Mass. 1981) 184–185, and G.E.R. Lloyd, Greek Science after Aristotle (London, 1973) 1–7, 154–178, esp. 166–170.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_006

26

part 1, chapter 3

Babylonian astronomy, and the heady scientific advances being made in this area. However, Plato retained at least literally, Ideas, nous, and the Demiourgos, and seems to have resisted a theism which would have united all these elements, making one supreme God the embodiment of nous, the creator, and telos of man. The tendency toward ever greater identification of God or the divine with the intelligibility of the visible universe, which characterized philosophy and science after Plato, is reflected in Aristotle’s criticism of Plato. He believed that Plato wrongly held to a creation in time in the Timaios. One view is that Aristotle deliberately misinterpreted Plato, who did not teach a literal ‘creation’, a position taken in antiquity and advocated by some modern scholars. Recently T.M. Robinson and J. Whittaker suggest that Plato did teach a “literal” “creation” of the world and that embarrassed by Aristotle’s critique, and one might add by the cosmic view of the early Hellenistic period, early Platonists reinterpreted Plato and even changed the text of the Timaios to make Plato a respectable conformist in Hellenistic intellectual circles.3 Robinson, who dates the Timaios to Plato’s middle period, insists on the temporal language used by Plato, and the separation between the product of nous and the product of ananke, which are correlative in the generation of the kosmos (Timaios 47e4). Whittaker argues that the phrase τί τὸ γιγνόμενον μὲν ἀεί (27d5) was manipulated by later Platonists to substantiate the non-temporal origin of the kosmos as propounded by Xenokrates, against the accepted reading in antiquity which did not include ἀεί. These scholars would maintain that Plutarch returned in fact, perhaps unwittingly on his part, to the true Platonic interpretation of the master. Plutarch himself felt that the majority of Platonists opposed temporal creation “contrary to Plato’s true meaning.” As H. Cherniss notes, however, such is traditional language to clothe Plutarch’s real purpose, a commentary on Plato’s Timaios in the light of his own theology, and not a rigorous philological and philosophical attempt to deduce Plato’s fourth century meaning.4 A more complex expression of this general principle of Aristotle’s distortion of Plato’s thought, such as was claimed by the early Platonists, appears

3 T.M. Robinson, Plato’s Psychology (Toronto, 1970) esp. 59–92; J. Whittaker, “Timaeus 77d 5ff.,” Phoenix 23 (1969) 181–185; and idem, “Textual Comments on Timaeus 27c–d,”Phoenix 27 (1973) 387–391. R. Mohr, “The World-Soul in Platonic Cosmology,” ics 7 (1982) 41–49, suggests that Plato intended a soul which maintained the “homoeostatic” rather than kinetic condition of matter, which is not to plan, produce, or keep an eye on the paradeigmata (intelligible models), and has neither reason nor the possibility of “discarnate” existence. 4 H. Cherniss, Plutarch’s Moralia xiii, Part 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass., 1976), Introduction, 136–149; on atheists, 136.

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

27

in M. Baltes’ recent book on the genesis of the universe in the Timaios.5 Baltes notes that Plutarch, studiously avoiding the aid of Aristotle in the justification of his own position, wanted to proceed with a methodology which was philologically acceptable. Plutarch, for example, does not say the kosmos came to be χρόνῳ or ἐν χρόνῳ—something explained by Quaest. Plat. 6 (1007c) where disordered movement does not count as time, but time and the kosmos come to exist simultaneously. Nonetheless, in Baltes’ interpretation, “earlier” and “later” have real meaning in Plutarch.6 As Cherniss notes, Plutarch’s interpretation was meant to refute the “atheists” of Laws 10 who denied that soul was senior to body. Plutarch instead would hold that God brought the world into existence from precosmic principles which always existed, an interpretation which “no known Platonist before Plutarch held.” In any case Plutarch’s Timaios is a far more fundamentalist and anthropomorphic one than Plato’s and undoubtedly more so than that of Eudoros— though he conceptualized the One as both personal and impersonal, and far different from a totally impersonal Hellenistic conception. In this sense Plato’s frequent use of the Demiourgos and theos to describe the agent of his ordering are faithfully reflected in Plutarch. But since elsewhere in Plato’s writings such a theistic concept is absent, the Timaios passages were easily interpreted as symbolic. In other treatises of Plutarch the end of human aspiration is the Good or Beautiful, clearly identified with Plato’s Forms, but these also seem to be closely linked or identical with the divine, or God (to theion or o theos). More so than Plato, Plutarch in his commentary on the Timaios constantly puts the “creating” God before our eyes, and downplays the Ideas. Nor is God or the Demiourgos, as suggested in De Iside 374ef, closely associated with the Ideas or identical with them. His relationship to them is “as imitator to pattern” (De animae procreatione 1023cd). But this also seems to imply that the Ideas are paradeigmata, that is, intelligible principles, some of which at least have a close relationship to the mathematicals, judging by his statements (for instance, “… Plato regards the substance of soul not as number either, but as being ordered by number …”), and by the constant mathematical speculation in the treatise, for example, in 1013cd. Numbers seem to be closely related to the intellectual structure of visible reality, not just the Good, Beautiful, Just, and so forth, so prominent in Plato’s middle dialogues. Similarly at 1026ef when 5 Baltes, Die Weltentstehung, 38–45, 93–95 on Plutarch; 32–38, 86–93 on Philo; 83–86 on Krantor and Eudoros. See also P. Moraux, Der aristotelismus bei den Griechen. Von Andronikos bis Alexander von Aphrodisias i: Die Renaissance des Aristotelismus im i. Jh. v. Chr. (Berlin, 1973). 6 Die Weltentstehung, 43.

28

part 1, chapter 3

the cosmic soul begins to turn the world backwards, it must look back to its paradeigma to recover its health. Plutarch, using a passage from the Politikos as his source, gratuitously introduces God rolling it in the right direction. It is difficult to see how turning back in the right direction could be accomplished just by reflection on the Good, or even a vision of it. The suggestion is that somehow the world soul regains an intellectual comprehension of the intelligible principles, equatable perhaps with mathematical terms and ratios used in geophysics and astronomy, behind the correct order and arrangement of the celestial bodies and the other components of the kosmos. Moreover, an anthropomorphic literalism is introduced without Platonic warranty from the Timaios.7 Plutarch thus broke with Alexandrian Platonism which seemed before his time to reaffirm the “traditional” Platonic interpretation of the non-temporal creation of the universe, the position of Eudoros as cited by Plutarch in De animae procreatione (1013b), following Xenokrates and Krantor. Baltes makes a very good observation on the contradictory role of Eudoros. He affirmed the “traditional” interpretation of the Timaios, which maintained symbolic creation, but at the same time by following in the footsteps “of his teacher,” Antiochos of Askalon, broke the Aristotelian stranglehold on the interpretation of that work. Thus he offered an opportunity to read Plato with a fresh eye, including the passages on the creation of the universe.8

7 [en: On Plato’s myth as a theodicy, see now G. Casadio, “The Politicus Myth (268d–274e) and the History of Religion,” Kernos 8 (1995) 85–95. On Plutarch’s reception and development of the motif, see Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 204–205; W. Deuse, Untersuchungen zur mittelplatonischen und neuplatonischen Seelenlehre (Mainz: Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, 1983) 84; F. Ferrari, Dio, idee e materia: la struttura del cosmo in Plutarco di Cheronea (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1995); J.M. Dillon, “Plutarch and God: Theodicy and Cosmogony in the Thought of Plutarch,” in A. Laks and D. Frede (eds.), Traditions of Theology: Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden: Brill, 2002) 223–237; J. Opsomer, “Plutarch’s De animae procreatione in Timaeo: Manipulation or Search for Consistency?,”bics 47 (2004) 137–162; L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch and the Image of the Sleeping and Waking Soul,” in S. Amendola, G. Pace & P. Volpe Cacciatore (eds.), Immagini letterarie e iconografia nelle opere di Plutarco (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 2017) 209–222; on rationalized myths in general, see G. Hawes, Rationalizing Myth in Antiquity (Oxford—New York: Oxford University Press, 2014).] 8 Die Weltentstehung, 85. [en: see now also Ferrari, Dio, idee e materia; idem, “Dio: padre e artefice. La theologia di Plutarco in Plat. Quaest. 2,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione, 395–409; idem, “Πρόνοια platonica e νόησις νοήσεως aristotelica: Plutarco e l’impossibilita di una sintisi,” in A. Pérez Jiménez, J. García López & R. Aguilar (eds.), Plutarco, Platon y Aristoteles, 63–77; idem, “Plutarch. Platonismus und Tradition,” in M. Erler & A. Graeser

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

29

Something of Plutarch’s struggle with different strains of contemporary Platonism appears in the contrast between Quaest. conv. 7.2 (720bc) and De Iside 374de. In the first Ammonios is given a speech in which God “creates, and oversees the kosmos” διὰ παντός, apparently through all time. The statement suggests again the eternal future of the world and something close if not identical to the creatio aeterna of God. In the De Iside passage, Plutarch begins by saying that the world is not eternal (ἀΐδιος) but twists the statement to mean that the kosmos is ever born (ἀειγενής): it had a beginning and is really ἀειγενής, that is, lasting forever after a real act of creation.9 The term ἀεί applies, then, only for the limitless time which came into being after the genesis of the world. Moreover, the similarity of this passage to that in De animae procreatione suggests that the two belong together, if not chronologically, at least in the mode of Plutarch’s thought.10 One can also compare Plutarch’s great leap forward in his treatment of the temporal creation of the kosmos, with the traditionalism of Philo of Alexandria, even though it would have fitted Philo’s purpose better to interpret the Timaios as supporting temporal creation, a topic hotly debated at the time. In Baltes’ view, relying on Peripatetic sources and perhaps Aristotle’s De Philosophia, Philo believed Aristotle’s testimony to Plato’s thought had to be taken seriously. On the other hand, he was well aware of Platonic interpreters who insisted on a symbolic or allegorical creation. Baltes thinks that a Peripatetic position is behind Philo’s interpretation which appears here for the first time: the γιγνόμενον ἀεί of Timaios 37d–38a would refer to the visible kosmos but the τὸ ὂν ἀεί to the kosmos noetos (De aeternitate mundi 14).11 Philo argues that since it is uncreated—“something agreed upon by all,”— then the kosmos, which gives the orderly movements upon which time is based, must also be eternal. But in De providentia 4–5 he proposes another argument. A beginning to the kosmos would imply a time when God was inactive, another argument coming from a Peripatetic milieu, even if the concept of a creatio aeterna is not Aristotelian. Philo also speaks (28–29) of the Ideas or Forms

9 10

11

(eds.), Philosophen des Altertums (Darmstadt: Primus Verlag, 2000) 109–127; J. Boulogne, “Trois Eros?: Comment Plutarque Réécrit Platon,” in A. Pérez Jiménez, J. García López, & R. Aguilar Fernández (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 215–226.] Die Weltentstehung, 94. [en: On God in Plutarch, see S.T. Teodorsson, “La concepción plutarquea del Dios Supremo,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Misticismo y religiones mistéricas en la obra de Plutarco, 275–281.] Die Weltentstehung, 86–87.

30

part 1, chapter 3

(εἴδη), the intelligible types of different forms of life, as “being from the beginning with God.” Thus later Platonists used Aristotle against himself. Taking the argument of the eternal activity of God from Aristotle’s De Philosophia, they turned it against his literal interpretation of the Timaios to support a creatio aeterna, seeing in Plato’s God a Hellenistic euergetes (benefactor) who would have no recipients for his benefactions, and thus sorely demoted in status, should the world not always have existed. The true εὐεργέτης needed the εὐεργετούμενον.12 The movement from earlier immanentist philosophy to the beginnings of transcendantalism begins to appear by the time of Cicero. Dörrie notes that the Platonists cited by Cicero have a religious tinge foreign to the religious indifference of the Academy previous to his time.13 It is interesting, moreover, that both Cicero and Philo state that according to the Platonists the kosmos began in time (whereas Plutarch states the opposite). Cicero seems to treat all Platonists as holding this, in opposition to Aristotle who held the contrary position. Philo speaks of a minority which loved to pervert the sense of Plato, pretending that the universe was eternal both as to the past and the future (Cicero, Tusc. Disp. 1. 70; Philo, De aetern. mundi 13).14 Dörrie speaks of the surprising lack of a sense of tradition among the new school at Alexandria where Platonism was rising like a Phoenix out of the ashes, and notes that in Cicero’s translation of the Timaios at times he is inclined to take Plato literally, at other times in a symbolic way.15 Further illumination on the individual characteristics of Plutarch’s Platonizing theology and correspondingly the theology of the early Imperial period has come through the criticisms of C.J. de Vogel on Dörrie’s Plutarchan and Middle Platonic writings, and from the last major article Dörrie wrote on Plutarch’s

12

13 14 15

Die Weltentstehung, 91–93. [en: For this and other themes in Philo of Alexandria, see now David T. Runia, & International Philo Bibliography Project, Philo of Alexandria: An Annotated Bibliography 1997–2006 with Addenda for 1987–1996 (Leiden: Brill, 2012)]. “Le platonisme de Plutarque,” 524, 527–529. “Le renouveau du Platonisme,” 20. “Le renouveau du Platonisme,” 19. T. Tobin, The Creation of Man. Philo and the History of Interpretation (Washington, 1983) notes that since Panaitios and Poseidonios show interest in the Timaios, Dörrie’s date of 70–60bc for Plutarch’s renewed interest is too late; he suggests the latter part of the 2nd Cent. bc (note 45). He notes too (44) that Cicero, who probably translated the Timaios into Latin in 45 bc, is unaware of the philosophical developments either in Eudoros or Timaios Lokros, and that Cicero’s Pythagoreanism reflects, instead, that of Publius Nigidius Figulus (98–45bc).

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

31

religious philosophy.16 Dörrie’s approach was in fact not very consistent. On the one hand he saw Plutarch sizing up Plato with a fresh eye, an inheritor of the ruins of the Academy after Sulla’s attack on Athens, which destroyed the last vestiges of the school tradition, if it were alive until then, and permitted new descendants of Plato to rise, a fresh generation unshackled by dogmatism and carrying the Timaios under their arm like a Bible. Gone too was the religious indifference of the New Academy.17 But while noting that Plutarch pushed Platonism in the direction of transcendence and a personal God, Dörrie also continued to characterize him as an immanentist who rejected the Platonic Ideas and preferred the innate logos of the universe. Dörrie, who always fought for the Alexandrian influence on Platonism of this time and especially of Eudoros, noted that Pythagoreans of the Hellenistic period neither seemed acquainted with the Timaios or were interested in analogous questions. In his view it was Eudoros who originated the telos formula (God as the destiny of man) with its emphasis on likeness to God (ὁμοίωσις).18 Then Dörrie came to treat Middle and Later Platonism under a suspiciously categorical division, nous-transcendence vs. logos-immanence.19 His assertion that the literal understanding of Plutarch had to be tempered with attention to ambivalence of expression which suggested transcendence, did not entirely set matters right. Plutarch as a Diesseitigkeit theologian revealed apparent disdain for the Ideas and an “old fashioned” approach toward philosophy, anchored in the phraseology and thought of the Hellenistic interpreters of Plato.20

16

17 18

19 20

“Der sogennante Mittelplatonismus,” 277–302. Among Dörrie’s articles bearing on her study are the following: “Der Platoniker Eudoros,” 25–39; “Zum Ursprung der neuplatonischen Hypostasenlehre,” Hermes 82 (1954) 331–342 (= idem, Platonica Minora, 286–296); “Die Frage nach dem Transzendenten im Mittelplatonismus,” in Fondation Hardt (ed.), Les sources de Plotin (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1960) 191–223 [= idem, Platonica Minora, 211–228]; “Die Erneuerung des Platonismus;” “Die Stellung Plutarchs;” “Logos-Religion? Oder NousTheologie? Die hauptsächlichen Aspekte des kaiserzeitlichen Platonismus,” in J. Mansfeld & L.M. De Rijk (eds.), Kephalaion. Studies in Greek Philosophy and its Continuation (Assen, 1975) 115–136; Von Platon zum Platonismus. Ein Bruch in der Überlieferung und seine Überwindung (Opladen, 1976); “Der Platonismus in der Kultur- und Geistesgeschichte der frühen Kaiserzeit,” in idem, Platonica Minora, 166–210. “Der Platoniker Eudoros,” 299. “Der Platoniker Eudoros,” 305–307. See also L.J. Simms, Plutarch’s Knowledge of Rome (Diss. Univ. of North Carolina, Chapel Hill 1974); and R. Flacelière, “Rome et ses empereurs vus par Plutarque,” ac 32 (1963) 28–47. “Logos-Religion? Oder Nous-Theologie?,” 130. “Die Stellung Plutarchs,” 52, 54. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 155, believes that the stirrings of negative theology in Alexandrian Platonism influenced Philo, not vice-versa. Dillon

32

part 1, chapter 3

The matter did not sit well with C.J. de Vogel, who took issue with Dörrie in his own Festschrift. First she attempted to clarify Plato’s own position. For her Plato always remained a philosopher of transcendence himself. Though offering a self-critique in the Parmenides he never abandoned his beloved theory of Ideas. In her view more than the Timaios was behind the Platonic revival of the end of the first century bc, as indicated by Cicero’s translations of the whole Plato not just the Timaios, the strong interest in the Phaidon, and Philo’s great interest in Plato’s famous middle dialogues. Being in Rome and having studied philosophy at a younger age, under masters now much older, Cicero probably had Platonic interests which no longer coincided with those in Alexandria. Thus his attention would not have been so exclusively focused on the Timaios as that of contemporary Platonists elsewhere. In any case, these things would only be fermenting during Cicero’s life and in full swing after his death. De Vogel considers Philo the first to introduce a transcendental God. One might ask, too, though she does not raise the question, whether the strong tradition of a transcendental God in the Jewish community at Alexandria did not contribute somewhat to the new conceptions generating in that city. But she finds Philo disturbingly traditional in his language: God is the mind of the universe (ὁ τῶν ὅλων νοῦς, De opificio mundi 2), and in her view the intelligible paradeigma of the kosmos noetos exists in θεοῦ λόγος, the divine logos, to be distinguished from a creative, still transcendent logos (De opificio mundi 7.25).21 It is the modern interpreters like W. Theiler, an unhealthy influence on Dörrie, who perverted the sense of the Timaios.22 In her view the Demiourgos is the personification of the creative power, on the level of transcendent being, and not equatable with the world-soul, even if the theistic concept of God from later Platonism is lacking in Plato. This interpretation puts the whole question of the Demiourgos in the Timaios on a new footing and is most convincing. One must admit, though, that the dividing line between a transcendental nous and

21 22

treats the matter in idem, “The Nature of God in the Quod Deus,” in D. Winston & J.M. Dillon (eds.), Two Treatises of Philo of Alexandria (Chico, California, 1983) 217–228. Citing Abr. 202–204 and Spec. 2.54–55, he notes that Philo attributed to God eupatheia (in ordinary Greek, “good feeling,” “enjoyment,” but for the Stoics, a good state of the passions). He adds that this was something the Stoics apparently never did, since for them “God” was an impersonal force (224–226). “Der sogennante Mittelplatonismus,” 278–280. “Plotin zwischen Platon und Stoa,” in Fondation Hardt (ed.), Les sources de Plotin, 63–86; 65 cited here.

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

33

a nous which is the higher part of the world soul, and like all intelligible reality by nature detachable from matter, is rather thin. It is also difficult to come to terms with Philo’s logos, and one suspects that modern commentators give it an independent existence beyond what Philo intended.23 As she understands Dörrie, Plutarch dispenses with transcendental paradeigmata and rather puts the Ideas in the world-soul, thus moving the transcendent into the immanent.24 But she sees this as a misinterpretation. Rather, Plutarch’s understanding of the Timaios was correct. The Demiourgos-Creator is the transcendent Nous, something carried even farther in Quaest. Plat. 2 where the paradeigma of Timaios 37c8 becomes God, the γεννήσας πατήρ (the father who has begotten) in Plutarch, going far beyond the Timaios. Thus, though never putting the Ideas in the mind of God, he virtually equated Demiourgos, paradeigmata, Ideas, Nous. It was wrong not to credit him with the movement toward transcendence.25 The weakness in her argument, as in fact in that of Dörrie, and to some extent Whittaker in his article on the Platonic Question, though he is careful to balance an immanentist text with a transcendental, is the reliance on one or two particular texts which may have a life outside Plutarch, without being that typical of his own position or general outlook. In favor of her position she relies heavily on Ammonios’ speech at the end of De E, which she regards as a Parmenidean interpretation of Plato carried à l’outrance, apparently oblivious of Whittaker’s penetrating study of the speech.26 She finds Plutarch, in contrast to Plato, saying that man equals soul, that man is nothing, that the phenom-

23

24 25 26

[en: On Plutarch’s Demiurge and his Middle Platonic context see now J. Mansfeld, “Compatible Alternatives: Middle Platonist Theology and the Xenophanes Reception,” in R. van den Broek, T. Baarda & J. Mansfeld (eds.), Knowledge of God in the Graeco Roman World (Leiden, 1988) 92–117, esp. 96; M. Bonazzi, “Eudoro di Alessandria e il Timeo di Platone (a proposito di Simpl. In Phys. p. 181,7–30 Diels),” in F. Calabi (ed.), Arrhetos Theos. L’ineffabilità del primo principio nel medio platonismo (Pisa, 2002) 11–34; F. Ferrari, “Pronoia platonica e noesi noeseos aristotelica: Plutarco e l’impossibilita di una sintesi,” in A. Pérez Jiménez, J. García López y R. Aguilar (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 63– 77; and J. Opsomer, “Demiurges in Early Imperial Platonism,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 51–99; L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Dios como Padre y artífice en Moralia de Plutarco,” in P. de Navascués, M. Crespo, A. Sáez (eds.), Filiación. Cultura pagana, religión de Israel, orígenes del cristianismo, v (Madrid: Trotta, 2013) 139–156, esp. 148–149.] “Der sog. Mittelplatonismus,” 283; citing Dörrie, “Die Stellung Plutarchs,” 51–53. “Der sog. Mittelplatonismus,” 284. “Der sog. Mittelplatonismus,” 285; Whittaker, “Ammonius,” 185–192.

34

part 1, chapter 3

enal world has no part in being, even if the speech does not totally exclude participation (μέθεξις). Whittaker notes the transitions from neuter to masculine grammatical forms when Ammonios is speaking about Being.27 He means that Ammonios moves from Being as a non-personal entity to Being equated with a personal God. He notes the same procedure in Philo as well. His conclusion is that the speech seems to be a genuine representation of Alexandrian Middle Platonism as it existed shortly before Plutarch, that it was influenced by Eudoros and similar speculation, and that it was “the most sublime that contemporary Alexandria could offer.” Whittaker speculated that the Septuagint version of the Bible, which translated the name given by Jahweh to Moses as “He-Who-Is,” was an important link between Jewish speculation and Platonic philosophy.28 But one should note that outside of the De E, including the De animae procreatione, Plutarch does not set God up against the phenomenal world or man in the extreme form which we see in the De E. Nor does Plutarch use “the supreme God” (ὁ ἀνωτάτω θεός), a slightly different formation than that of Eudoros (ὁ ὑπεράνω θεός) in his commentary on the Timaios. Rather, this phrase is reserved for Quaest. Plat. 2. Its addition to the Platonic text suggests Alexandrian Platonism. It is difficult to date Plutarch’s philosophical writings, but the Quaest. Plat. look more like academic exercises than the De animae procreatione, an undertaking regarded by Plutarch himself as personal and individualistic, thus suggesting some maturity.29 More representative of Plutarch’s general view would seem to be the end of the myth in De facie or the myth of Timarchos in the De genio, where God seems to be identified with the noeton, the Forms, and nous, and this is located symbolically if not physically in the highest regions. This suggests a strong transcendental God, though a not too personal one. There is no reason to deny that

27

28

29

[en: Besides the studies by F. Ferrari referred to above page 28, footnote 8 and page 33, note 33, see now idem, “Le Système Des Causes Dans Le Platonisme Moyen,” Aitia 2 (2014) 185–205.] “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” 51. See also in the same volume Walsh, “Apuleius and Plutarch,” 20–32, noting Apuleius’ esteem for Plutarch, and the latter’s influence upon him. [en: On Plutarch’s acquaintance with Jewish religious practices and ideas, see J. Geiger, “Plutarch, Dionysus, and the God of the Jews Revisited,” in L. van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 211–219.] Ziegler, Plutarchos, 75, would put the actual dating of the De E in the 90’s ad, but the dramatic date is much earlier, the time of Nero’s visit, 66/67. Thus, if Plutarch is reflecting the real character of Ammonios’ speech, he might be giving a philosophical situation of 30 years before, while modifying it somewhat to fit his present speculation.

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

35

Plutarch, as typical in his dialogues, has preserved the intellectual character of his speaker while modifying it to meet the exigencies of an Apollinine solution in De E. The peculiar theological characteristics of this speech can be summarized here. The supreme One (A-pollon) is contrasted with the many, complex, impure, destructive, changing, abounding, unseen, dark, soundless, bringer of oblivion, temporal, equivalent to A-idoneus (Hades). A large fragment of Eudoros (Diels 181.7–30) is printed in J.M. Dillon’s work on Middle Platonism and in T. Tobin’s recent study of Philo.30 In it a One, the first principle transcending the principles of existent things, called the supreme God (ὁ ὑπεράνω θεός) establishes the second One and its opposite, and from the second one the elements (στοιχεῖα) derive. The second One is the ordered, limited, knowable, male, odd, right, and light; that opposed is the disordered, unlimited, unknowable, female, even, left, and darkness. This second One is the Monad opposed to the Dyad. Ammonios seems to be describing God-One in terms of both Eudoros’ supreme and second One. Plutarch may have simplified for popular purposes. Further links with Alexandria are the expression that we have no part in Being, a statement which appears in Philo (De Iosepho 125). Whittaker has noted the contemporary Pythagorean parallels. Baltes even suggests that the Neopythagorean Timaios Lokros, On the Nature of the Soul and the Universe, was actually written in late first century bc Alexandria.31 In it a supreme transcendent Nous is followed by an Idea, the model or archetype of the visible world standing between Nous and the kosmos. Ammonios’ speech, however, does not treat God as Nous, and at first sight seems to exclude patterning after the divine (Ἡμῖν μὲν γὰρ ὄντως τοῦ εἶναι μέτεστιν οὐδέν …, 392a). But the sun is His visible image, offering reflections and appearances (ἐμφάσεις τινὰς καὶ εἴδωλα) of the divine benevolence and blessedness (393e). This warm anthropomorphism may be a Plutarchan touch going

30

31

Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 126–127; Tobin, The Creation of Man, 14. See also Winston & Dillon, Two Treatises of Philo of Alexandria, esp. J.M. Dillon, “The Nature of God in the Quod Deus,” 217–228, and commentary, 273–358. H. Diels, Simplicii in Aristotelis Physicorum Libros Quattuor Priores Commentarii (Berlin, 1883) 181, 10ff. (ad Arist., Physica 188 a 19): κατὰ τὸν ἀνωτάτω λόγον φατέον τοὺς Πυθαγορικοὺς τὸ ἓν ἀρχὴν τῶν πάντων λέγειν, κατὰ δὲ τὸν δεύτερον λόγον δύο ἀρχὰς τῶν ἀποτελουμένων εἶναι, τό τε ἓν καὶ τὴν ἐναντίαν τούτῳ φύσιν. ὑποτάσσεσθαι δὲ πάντων τῶν κατὰ ἐναντίωσιν ἐπινοουμένων τὸ μὲν ἀστεῖον τῷ ἑνί, τὸ δε φαῦλον τῇ πρὸς τοῦτο ἐναντιουμένῃ φύσει. M. Baltes, Timaios Lokros. Über die Natur des Kosmos und der Seele (Leiden, 1972) 23. See Tobin, The Creation of Man, note 53.

36

part 1, chapter 3

beyond the cold, principle-oriented terminology of Alexandrian Eudoros, as is the more theistic, Apollinine description of the One-God at the close of the speech. Elsewhere the harsh impersonalism of τὸ θεῖον, ἕν, ὄν (the divine, one, being) is broken by θεός (God) only once and by a few masculine pronouns in 393a–c. De Vogel was not entirely fair in the way she presented an immanentist Plutarch in Dörrie’s writings, partly because he tended to describe positions schematically, thus leaving out some nuances which might obfuscate the overall scheme. In his talk for the Budé Congress, he expressed his caution in taking Plutarch literally, depicting him as old-fashioned, that is, Hellenistic in not restricting his concept of the kosmos through the antithesis between corporeal and transcendental world, but advanced in looking for a destiny of the soul outside this world (soteria), in rejecting the Hellenistic view that philosophy was the art of living well, and in the personalization of the Nous which makes the creator stand apart from creation.32 Dörrie’s final major article on Plutarch’s religious thought in Mélanges Quispel is far more comprehensive than one might deduce from the title, “Gnostic Traces in Plutarch,” obviously reflecting years of thought on Plutarch’s religious philosophy.33 He even gives a comprehensive sweep of developments from the death of Plato through Plutarch. Dörrie surprisingly returns to Poseidonios as the foundation for both Plutarch’s eschatology and Gnostic systems.34 In his description of the early Hellenistic period, there is no literary trace extant of Plato’s concern about the contamination of the good through evil. The earlier Stoics, in fact, saw no problem, maintaining the fundamental axiom that what was in accordance with nature was also in accordance with reason, and could not be threatened by the irrational. But as the complacent assertions of Zeno and Chrysippos dissolved in the later Hellenistic period, Poseidonios was willing to stake out the necessary conclusions. Eschatology, uninteresting to the optimistic this-worldliness of the early Hellenistic period, which saw philosophy as a guide to life, suddenly became a concern.35 While using traditional Stoic language, Poseidonios broke with that world. The soul was now not a unity but a duality, a combination of pathos and logos which could be separated from the body and continue at least for a time in an independent existence after death.36 32 33 34 35 36

Le platonisme de Plutarque, 524, 527–529. “Gnostische Spuren,” 92–117. “Gnostische Spuren,” 95. For Plutarch’s debt to the Stoics, see the masterly study of Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme. “Gnostische Spuren,” 97. “Gnostische Spuren,” 98.

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

37

This impulse, not the dialogues of Plato, was the primary influence on Plutarch, and brought him into relationship with the Gnostics.37 Like Poseidonios, Plutarch believed in the creeping degeneration of the kosmos, including humanity, which was becoming incapable of understanding the manifestations of logos in cult, rites, and customs. Only by gaining knowledge (gnosis) could one participate in the knowledge of God, even if Plutarch did not explicitly link salvation (soteria) with gnosis.38 The statement on Plutarch’s belief in the creeping degeneration of humanity will strike most readers of Plutarch as exaggerated, and can hardly find much support in his work. Dörrie goes on to find similarities between Plutarch and Philo, thus suggesting that he was regarding Plutarch now as more of a “transcendental” theologian. Plutarch’s εὐλάβεια (respect, caution, reserve), however, in dealing with the divine led to understatement, allusion, symbolism, and disjointedness in place of simple rational clarity, an irresistible bait to commentators inclined to overinterpretation.39 Even his eschatological systems become a form of understatement, but thereby compatible with both Stoic-Poseidonian cosmology and contemporary Platonic speculation.40 Dörrie’s description of the daimones and the ascent of the soul deserves special attention. Even if oversimplified in its exclusion of special cases, it is most accurate for the general picture it draws, in an area often drowned in fog. The daimones are nothing else than purified souls who act as helpers and guardians in the destiny of men, a principal theme for Plutarch, but marginal in comparison to his overriding themes, one of which is the purification and the ascent of the soul. Thus, daimonology is founded on his eschatology. The main theme is the purification and ascent of the soul, not through repentance or conversion, nor bestowed through an act of grace, nor earned through some great accomplishment, nor dominated by fear, but based on fixed conditions attached to the purity of the soul, which according to its nature accelerates the soul toward the region of the sun faster or slower, a process which applies to all souls sooner or later.41 Dörrie once more approached the problem of transcendence and immanence. He still leaned toward immanence, feeling that Plutarch, like Plato would deny that the Good could be contaminated or corrupted by matter, and was reluctant to admit an evil principle or soul, which could only exist not as a 37 38 39 40 41

“Gnostische Spuren,” 98. “Gnostische Spuren,” 101. “Gnostische Spuren,” 103. “Gnostische Spuren,” 107. “Gnostische Spuren,” 109–110.

38

part 1, chapter 3

dumb idiot but as the most ingenious deviser of an evil creation.42 The famous Quaest. Plat. 2 (1001bc) was given a fresh look. While speaking about the soul as a part of God, Dörrie also interpreted it “as the substance of the father is in the child.” Whittaker has in fact devoted considerable attention to this passage, and like Dörrie is concerned with the problems of immanence and transcendence. For Whittaker it represents the search for a compromise between Stoic immanentism and excessive transcendentalism, represented by the unknowability of God. The last idea he dates to the time of Cicero, seeing it reflected in Cicero’s tendentious translation (or mistranslation) of Timaios 28c 3–5: “it would be impossible to declare him (the creator) to all mankind” as “the concept of the creator cannot be expressed in words” (in Timaeo patrem huius mundi nominari neget posse).43 Whittaker would then take Plutarch’s immanentist assertion as a commonplace of this time, balanced by the transcendentalism of Middle Platonism.44 This, in Plutarch’s time still optimistic, taught the doctrine of assimilation to God (ὁμοίωσις θεῷ).45 The allegorical interpretation of the Timaios would be an attempt to syncretize Plato and Aristotle, who in the outlook of the time were considered as teaching fundamentally the same doctrine. Dörrie’s interpretation is validated by comparison with a passage in De sera 559c, where speaking of the crimes of parents being punished through their children, Plutarch asserts that the son is a part (μέρος) of the father, created out of him (ἐξ αὐτοῦ), not by him (ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ). We would say that the child carries the genes of the father. As Plutarch puts it, the child carries around in himself a part of the father (ἔχει τι καὶ φέρεται). In any case this is different than saying that the human mind is nothing more than a piece of the divine nous. This terminology has some bearing on the De animae procreatione where the nous of the world soul seems to come from the divine nous. Repeating parts of Timaios 36e–37a, Plutarch does not assert that the nous of the world soul is a part of God or of the divine nous, but in a more vague way, that out of the disorderly soul (precosmic soul) and the “most excellent being yonder” (which Cherniss would take as the “indivisible being” of Timaios 35a 1–2), the Demiourgos produced a rational and orderly soul, and from himself (ἀπ’

42 43 44

45

“Gnostische Spuren,” 111. “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” 51. [en: On the issue see now M. Vorwerk, “Maker or Father?: the Demiurge from Plutarch to Plotinus,” in R.D. Mohr and B.M. Sattler (ed.), One Book, The Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today (Las Vegas/Zurich/Athens: Parmenides Publishing, 2010) 79–100.] “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” 56.

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

39

αὐτοῦ) provided intellectuality (τὸ νοερόν) as a form (εἶδος) for the sense and motive powers of the world soul.46 Plutarch omits the ἐξ αὐτοῦ which appears in Quaest. Plat. 2.47 The second text for Dörrie’s immanentist Plutarch had been De Iside 373ac, where Plutarch implies that logos does not lose its value when it comes into matter, but matter gains something.48 Dörrie links this statement with the creation of the world in time and Plato’s conviction of the incorruptibility of the Good.49 However, just as the Platonica Quaestio raises difficulties if treated as Plutarch’s original thought, so does the De Iside passage. Griffiths and Hani trace most of the sources to the early and middle Hellenistic periods of rampant immanentism.50 Platonizing interpretations seem to have had a long history in Alexandria. Hani, who interprets this passage as Platonic in inspiration, is reluctant to deny it a real foundation in Egyptian religion and theologizing. The seemingly fevered, pure Greek speculation (373bc) suggests in

46

47 48

49

50

Plutarch’s Moralia xiii, Part 1, 143 and 201, on De animae procr. 1016c: Plutarch makes the demiourgos (craftsman) identical with the “indivisible being.” In Cherniss’ interpretation of Plutarch, God is the νοῦς (intellect) par excellence. Cf. Quaest. Plat. 1002b (ὁ γὰρ θεὸς ἐν τοῖς νοητοῖς). [en: On Quaest. Plat. 2 see Ferrari, “Le Système Des Causes”; Roig Lanzillotta, “Dios como Padre y artífice”; and Vorwerk, “Maker or Father?”]. Plutarch really says that the intelligible, good, being (τὸ γὰρ ὂν καὶ νοητὸν καὶ ἀγαθόν) is superior to change and destruction (373a). The analogy is that the soul of Osiris is everlasting, but his body Typhon often breaks apart and disperses. [en: G. Casadio, “La nozione di religione nel De Iside Et Osiride di Plutarco e lo studio scientifico della Religione,” in U. Bianchi (ed.), The Notion of Religion in Comparative Research. Selected Proceedings of the xvith Congress of the International Association for the History of Religions, Rome 3rd–8th September, 1990 (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1994) 349–354; idem, “Strategia delle citazioni nel De Iside et Osiride: un platonico greco di fronte a una cultura religiosa altra,” in G. D’Ippolito & I. Gallo (eds.), Strutture formali dei Moralia di Plutarco. Atti del iii Convegno plutarcheo. Palermo 3–5 maggio 1989 (Naples: D’Auria, 1991) 257–271; N. Brout, “Au carrefour entre la philosophie grecque et les religions barbares: Typhon dans le De Iside de Plutarque,” Revue de Philosophie Ancienne 22 (2004) 71–94; G. Sfameni Gasparro, “Tra δεισιδαιμονία e ἀθεότης: I percorsi della religione filosofica di Plutarco,” in A. Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco, 163– 183.] “Gnostische Spuren,” 113. Plutarch’s application of this formula to the monarch has been studied by G.F. Chesnut, “The Ruler and the Logos,” in anrw ii.16.2 (1978) 1310–1332; 1321– 1324 on Plutarch. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, introduction; Hani, La religion égyptienne, 20–21, 248–250, 252; see also E. Chassinat, Le mystère d’ Osiris au mois de Khoiak i–ii (Cairo, 1966–1968).

40

part 1, chapter 3

his view an essentially correct reading of Egyptian theology, the preexistence of a primordial god (Haroueris) in the chaos.51 The reading even leads one to suspect that the germ of Plutarch’s precosmic soul in De animae procreatione may be a Platonic interpretation of the Isis myth. But Hani, who does not suggest this himself, notes a difference as well: Plutarch speaks of an “evil soul,” in the De animae procreatione, not the dual, primeval animation of matter such as appears in the De Iside passage.52 Faced with deciding between originality in Plutarch’s Platonic interpretation for the De Iside, or traditional Platonic interpretations developed in Alexandria, Hani leans toward previous allegorical speculation in a Platonic vein by Egyptian priests or Alexandrian scholars.53 Thus, two principal texts dissolve somewhat, the Platonica Quaestio, which may be a kind of school exercise, and the De Iside passage, which may be to some extent a reporting of Alexandrian Hellenistic Platonizing. The Academic, philosophical treatises of the Moralia are often considered early in the chronology of Plutarch’s writings. References to historical persons in the De Iside would put this essay toward the end of Plutarch’s career. There may be, then, a long span between Quaest. Plat. 2 and the essay on Isis religion. K. Ziegler notes that Plutarch was young when he went to Egypt and there is no evidence he ever returned.54 In contrast, he had close associations with Athens, and perhaps access to different works than those at Alexandria, even works or copies from the old Academy library. Only indirectly, then, would he have kept himself informed of religious and philosophical developments in Alexandria. Among the mature religious writings the most avant-garde passage is the eschatological scene of De genio (591ac). Four principles (archai) exist in the celestial region: life, motion, birth, decay (ζωή, κίνησις, γένησις, φθορά). The first is linked to the second by Monas at the invisible (ἀόρατον), the second to the third by Nous at the sun, the third to the fourth by Physis at the moon, while the Moirai, daughters of Ananke, hold the keys and preside over each link. In Dörrie’s analysis of this conception, we find an anticipation of the gradation of being found later in Plotinos. He would note that the three female κλειδοῦχοι (holders of the keys), who are gate keepers, have a close relationship to Gnostic conceptions, something not remarked upon before.55 Even so, Plutarch’s

51 52 53 54 55

La religion égyptienne, 248–249. La religion égyptienne, 250. La religion égyptienne, 252. Plutarchos von Chaironeia, 18: trip to Alexandria. [en: On the issue see now L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch of Chaeronea and the Gnostic Worldview: Middle Platonism and the Nag Hammadi Library,” in J.M. Candau Morón,

plutarch’s idea of god in the light of alexandrian platonism

41

fantasy comes from Stoic-Poseidonian cosmology and contemporary Platonic speculation, playing with imagery from Plato (Politeia 617c). But Plutarch in Dörrie’s view does not create a transcendental realm outside the kosmos, thus remaining long removed himself from Neoplatonic ontology. No transcendental Being, much less a kosmos noetos, is settled in those distant realms.56 It is difficult to go all the way with Dörrie here. The Timarchos myth of the De genio does not treat the final destiny of the souls, though the best daimonsouls are identified with the stars. It is inconceivable that Plutarch would not in symbolic terms have put the noeton outside the visible universe, such as is suggested at the end of the myth in De facie (944e). Perhaps Plutarch’s silence after the mention of the separation of nous from psyche is due to an unwillingness to repeat Plato’s vision of the Forms, combined with a feeling that the Ideas really were in a supreme Nous, perhaps as his thoughts, the paradeigmata from which he worked, the kosmos noetos, and that the central Ideas, Good, Beautiful, and the concept of One, were identifiable with this Nous-God. If Plutarch’s epheton (the desirable), and so forth, is also the One, as in De E, then, presumably the human nous contemplates it at the non-visible, that is, above the sun. However, only “better” daimones qualify for the latter, and the sun is never said to be the “Heimat” of the nous or daimon.57 It is rather the visible image of the Epheton-Kalon-Theion-Makarion (the Desirable, Beautiful, Divine, Blessed), which releases nous from psyche.58 In De genio 591b Monas has

56 57

58

F.J. González Ponce & A.L. Chávez Reino (eds.), Plutarco como Transmisor. Actas del Simposio internacional de la sociedad española de Plutarquistas. Sevilla, 12–14 de noviembre de 2009 (Seville: Secr. de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Sevilla, 2011) 401–417, esp. 409; idem, “Plutarch’s Anthropology and its Influence on His Cosmological Framework,” in M. Meeussen & L. Van der Stock (eds.), Aspects of Plutarch’s Natural Philosophy (Leuven, 2015) 179–195, es 189–191.] “Gnostische Spuren,” 106–108. Dörrie may have been misled by a false reading of the text De facie 944e. In “Gnostische Spuren,” 110, he states: “Es besteht die beruhigende Gewißheit, daß eine jede Seele zur rechten Zeit den Mond, und daß ein jeder Geist zur rechten Zeit seine Heimat, die Sonne, erreichen wird; …” H. Cherniss and W.C. Helmbold, Plutarch’s Moralia xii (London and Cambridge, Mass., 1968), 213. Cherniss notes that the main inspiration is Politeia 507–509, but the thought is echoed in De Iside 372e; De E 393e; Ad princip. inerud. 780f, 781f; Quaest. Plat. 1006f– 1007a. The last part of the sentence, with the notion of striving after the good, and the term ἐφετόν are derived from Aristotle, Phys. 1.9 and Metaph. 11.7. One might think of syncretized Platonism before Plutarch. The passage is reflected in De Iside 372ef and Amator. 770b. At Amator. 766a Plutarch suggests a vision of the form of the Beautiful after death (ἐκεῖ γὰρ ἀνακλᾶται πρὸς τὸ θεῖον καὶ νοητὸν καλόν· ὁρατοῦ δὲ σώματος ἐντυχὼν κάλλει

42

part 1, chapter 3

a symbolic position above Nous, but Nous, though joining kinesis and genesis at the sun, is not explicitly said to reside there.59

59

καὶ χρώμενος οἷον ὀργάνῳ τινὶ τῆς μνήμης ἀσπάζεται καὶ ἀγαπᾷ, …) but as in Philo, there is never a clear assertion. Moreover, the vision theme is heavily influenced by Plutarch’s model, the Symposion, while θεῖον and νοητόν are redolent of Middle Platonism. After death, at 766b, the lover associates with ta kala, but then returns to another earthly existence, as though there were no real vision of a single kalon, nor any escape from the cycle. [en: On Plutarch’s interpretation of Plato’s cosmology, see Sven-Tage Teodorsson, “Plutarch’s Interpretation of Plato’s Cosmology: Plausible Exegesis or Misrepresentation?,” in Luc van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 419–435; also Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch’s Anthropology and its Influence,” 179–195.]

chapter 4

Plutarch’s Daimonology A controversial point for interpretation is Plutarch’s demonology (in his case it is almost better to speak of “daimonology”). Normally scholars treating it as part of the general philosophical movement of his day tend to credit him with belief in daimonological theories and the intrusion of evil daimones into human life to a higher degree than those whose principal object is to study Plutarch himself. Thus, one finds less reluctance to stress his belief in daimones among people like Merlan, and Dillon, than among Ziegler, Griffiths, Flacelière, and Russell. Babut, who carefully analyzes the evidence, seems swayed by his own general belief in Plutarch’s growing tolerance for Stoic views, and accepts the rather old opinion of increasing credulity regarding evil daimones.1 1 On this see my articles: Brenk, “ ‘A Most Strange Doctrine,’” 1–11; and idem, “Le songe de Brutus,” 588–594. Authors on the subject are split between attributing to Plutarch views of speakers (and thus misrepresenting him at times), looking for a solution in relative chronology, or cautiously treating the matter as rather hypothetical and tentative in Plutarch, i.e., more a view of others than himself. The development theory appears in Volkmann, Erbse, Moellering, and Babut, but poses many problems. An early protest against overstressing Plutarch’s use of daimonology, and in particular attributing to him a belief in evil daimones as a powerful force of evil in the world, is that of Eisele, “Zur Dämonologie Plutarchs,” 28–51, but his concept of daimon in Plutarch is too restricted. His opinion that the real demonic power was the precosmic soul comes close to Dillon’s analysis. An exaggerated position can be found in Hirzel, Der Dialog, 157, following upon Zeller’s systematization of the speech of Kleombrotos, and a work repeating Zeller by Pohl, Die Dämonologie des Plutarch (Breslau, 1859), and can be found in R. Volkmann, Leben, Schriften und Philosophie des Plutarch (Berlin, 1869) ii, 247–323. Trench and Fabricius, Zur religiösen Anschauungsweise did not give it much attention. Hirzel called it “der eigentliche Mittelpunkt von Plutarchs religiösen Ansichten.” Influenced by this view are M. Pohlenz, Vom Zorne Gottes (Göttingen, 1909) 136–137; R.M. Jones, The Platonism of Plutarch, 39; Latzarus, Les idées religieuses; E. Seillière, “La religion de Plutarque,” Séances et Travaux de l’ Académie des Sciences Morales 181 (1921) 422–434. The culmination of this line of thought is G. Soury, La démonologie de Plutarque (Paris, 1942) which contains much exaggeration and serious defects in methodology, though very interesting. Much is given to Oriental influence. Ziegler, Plutarchos, 304, was very cautious, as were M.P. Nilsson, Geschichte der griechischen Religion ii (Munich, 1951) 403; R. Flacelière (in a running battle with Soury in the pages of reg) “Plutarque, prêtre de Delphes,” reg 55 (1942) 50–69; idem, “Plutarque et la Pythie,” reg 56 (1943) 72–111; and V. Goldschmidt, “Les thèmes du De defectu oraculorum de Plutarque,”reg 61 (1948) 298–302. The account by Merlan, “The Later Academy and Platonism,” 53–64, is very misleading and contains some patently false statements about the use of demons to solve

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_007

44

part 1, chapter 4

In reality, if allowances are made for individual speakers, reporting of opinions, eschatological coloring, and tolerance of the views of others, there is not much with which to label Plutarch a demonologist, in the sense of one who uses evil daimones to solve most problems. One can find as much hostility toward the belief in the power of evil daimones, as tolerance; and in general Plutarch is more interested in the age-old belief in daimones as disincarnate human souls, a belief which can easily be related to the association of nous with daimon, as found in Plato, and probably common since his time.2 problems (63). Babut, and Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, though balanced, do not challenge some of Soury’s assumptions. A more satisfactory account in this regard is Russell, Plutarch, 78. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 216–221, notes that he is treating views of speakers, but one still feels that systematization and the influence of Neoplatonism upon his treatment give a somewhat misleading impression of the importance of evil daimones in Plutarch’s general religious philosophy. However, balance is achieved by excellent treatment on the problem of evil in Plutarch. The introduction by A. Corlu to Le démon de Socrate is primarily concerned with the guardian daimones. For daimones in general one can consult Andres, re Suppl. iii (1918) 267–322, and Waser, re iv (1901) 2010–2012, and the articles in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum: J. Ter Vrugt-Lentz, “Geister (Dämonen) ii. Vorhellenistisches Griechenland,” ix (1974) 598–615, and C. Zintzen, iiic. “Hellenistische und kaiserzeitliche Philosophie,” ix (1974) 640–668. Ter Vrugt-Lentz traces a movement from dynamism through a personal guardian or evil spirit to identifying daimon with tyche. Zintzen is impressed by the role of Xenokrates in the development after Plato to Neoplatonism. Worthwhile are the appropriate sections in Nilsson. The daimonology can be found in Vernière, Symboles et mythes, 38–40, and 249–262. She is influenced by Soury and repeats Flacelière’s hypothesis of growing disaffection for daimones in Plutarch. 2 [en: See more recently: Y. Vernière, “Nature et Fonction des Démons chez Plutarque,” in J. Ries (ed.), Anges et Démons (Louvain-la-Neuve: Centre d’histoire des religions, 1989) 241– 252; M.I. Méndez Lloret, “El Démon: La inteligencia en el Mundo,” Faventia 15 (1993) 23–38; D. O’Brien, “Empedocles: the Wandering Daimon and the Two Poems,” Aevum Antiquum 11 (2001) 79–179; C. Martínez Maza, “La Cristianización de los démones Mistéricos,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús (eds.), Misticismo y religiones mistéricas en la obra de Plutarco, 165–177; R. Turcan, “Les démons et la crise du paganisme Gréco-Romain,”Revue de Philosophie Ancienne 21 (2003) 33–54; E. Almagor, “The king’s daimon (Plut. Art. 15.7) reconsidered,” in L. van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 31–40; J.A. Fernández Delgado, “Héroes, enigmas y edad de los démones, de Hesíodo a Plutarco: la intertextualidad fragmentada,” in L. van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 163–175; G.M.A. Margagliotta, Il demone di Socrate nelle interpretazioni di Plutarco e Apuleio (Bautz, 2012); D.S. Kalleres, “‘Oh, Lord, Give This One a Daimon so That He May No Longer Sin’: The Holy Man and His Daimones in Hagiography,” Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 14 (2012) 205–235; J.F. Finamore, “Plutarch and Apuleius on Socrates’ daimonion,” in D.A. Layne & H.A.S. Tarrant (eds.), The Neoplatonic Socrates. Papers Exploring the Portrait of Socrates Developed by the Platonists in the First Six Cents. a.d. (Philadelphia (Pa.): University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014) 36–50; C. Addey, Crystal,

plutarch’s daimonology

45

The hostility toward this belief in the power of evil daimones can possibly be observed in De superstitione 168c where the superstitious believe in the ambiguously stated “attacks of god or daimon.” At 171c speaking about the sacrifice of children at Carthage, he seems acquainted with the belief that human sacrifice is offered to appease evil daimones, and that apotropaic rites are associated with beings of this nature. The passage here is repeated almost verbatim in the Life of Pelopidas 21, where a dream commands the hero, before the battle of Leuktra, to sacrifice a virgin to the shades of the daughters of Skedasos. The world is ruled by a good God, the father of us all, not by Titans and Typhons, and it would be the height of folly to believe in the power of such creatures. In De stoic. repugn. 1051c, a passage not cited by G. Soury, who finds daimones everywhere in Plutarch, Plutarch associates the theory of evil daimones particularly with Chrysippos, whose theories on providence he could not share. Here a belief in evil daimonia, the term Chrysippos seems to use, is rejected as contradictory to the notion of divine providence.3 An exposition of daimonological theory, in which Xenokrates seems to play a large role, is given in De defectu and De Iside, and it colors the eschatology of De genio and De facie. More serious perhaps is its appearance in the speech of Ammonios at the end of De E, though a different conception emerges than that of the other dialogues. The interpretation here depends to some extent on Flacelière’s understanding of De defectu as one in which Plutarch plays with certain hypothetical views, a dialogue followed by De E and De Pythiae oraculis.4 The question of this first dialogue is why the oracle has ceased to function. A solution is offered by a Spartan named Kleombrotos who applies daimonology and comes to the conclusion that the daimones who were “The daimonion of Socrates: daimones and Divination in Neoplatonism,” Layne & Tarrant (eds.), The Neoplatonic Socrates, 51–72.] 3 Plutarch quotes from the third book of Chrysippos’ Peri Ousias: oversights in divine providence are like a few grains of wheat overlooked in a well-run household, or evil daimonia have been set over some good men, and much ananke has been mixed in; Plutarch counters that all three solutions (using the term daimones rather than daimonia) contradict providence (svf ii, 1178). Babut notes (Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 17) that Plutarch is typical of his period in seeming to treat the history of Stoicism as stopping with Chrysippos. For Chrysippos in general, see J.B. Gould, The Philosophy of Chrysippus (Leiden, 1970). The passage is treated by Babut, 290–293; F.H. Sandbach, The Stoics (London, 1975) 101–108, discusses Chrysippos’ problems on fate, and suggests what he might have said in reply. 4 Plutarque et la Pythie, 72, and more recently in Plutarque. Œuvres morales vi, Dialogues pythiques (Paris, 1974) 40, he puts the date as late as 125 ad, and repeats his earlier views on the tentative nature of De defectu, 85–86. C.P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 136, would place the essay, and Plutarch’s death, slightly earlier.

46

part 1, chapter 4

responsible for the prophecy have departed for another world. After a very long discussion on the possibility of other worlds, Lamprias, Plutarch’s brother, suggests that a pneuma (exhalation) is responsible for the inspiration, and that when this gives out, as all material things must, the inspiration ceases. Problems exist as to why Plutarch should have developed the daimonological at such length, and why he should present the doctrine, supposedly largely dependent upon Xenokrates, the pupil of Plato, as something strikingly new. But there is no reason to take the daimonological theory here as representative of his own views. Kleombrotos is dramatically ridiculed for his gullibility and ignorance, his views are not accepted by the rest of the company, and the major portion is given to the respectable Lamprias, as Flacelière and others have justly noted.5 Though Lamprias is portrayed by Plutarch as inclined to the Peripatetics, it is in fact striking how much Aristotelianism can be found in Plutarch, as Soury himself, Dörrie, R.M. Jones, Dillon, Russell, and others have noted.6 Babut

5 See Eisele, Zur Dämonologie, 40–42; Flacelière, Plutarque et la Pythie, 72; and idem, Sur la disparition des oracles (Paris, 1947) 22, 52–53, and 62–63; Goldschmidt, “Les thèmes du De defectu oraculorum,” 298–302; Ziegler, Plutarchos, 327; Flacelière, Plutarque. Œuvres morales vi, 88. 6 G. Soury, “Les questions de table et la philosophie religieuse de Plutarque,” reg 62 (1949) 320– 327; H. Dörrie, “Emanation,” in K. Flasch (ed.), Parusia. Studien zur Philosophie Platons und zur Problemgeschichte des Platonismus (Frankfurt, 1965) 119–141 [= idem, Platonica Minora, 70–85]; R.M. Jones, The Platonism of Plutarch, 20; G. Verbeke, “Plutarch and the Development of Aristotle,” in I. Düring and G.E.L. Owen (eds.), Aristotle and Plato in the Mid-Fourth Century (Göteborg, 1960); Babut, Plutarque. De la vertu ethique, 66; S.G. Etheridge, Plutarch’s De virtute morali. A Study in Extra-Peripatetic Aristotelianism (Diss. Harvard, 1961); M. Pinnoy, Aristotelisme en Antistoicisme in Plutarchus ‘De virtute morali’ (Diss. unpublished Louvain, 1956); idem, De peripatetische Thema in Plutarchus De virtute morali (Louvain, 1968); Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 195; Russell, Plutarch, 93–94; F. Becchi, “Contributo allo studio del De virtute di Plutarco,” Stud. It. 46 (1974) 129–147; and H.G. Ingekamp, Plutarchs Schriften über die Heilung der Seele (Göttingen, 1971). Recently more has been written on Plutarch’s Aristotelianism. P.L. Donini, Tre studi sull’Aristotelismo nel ii secolo d. C. (Turin, 1974) 63–125, has stressed Plutarch’s use of Aristotelianism as not a direct reading of Aristotle, but as due to the fact that Aristotelian themes and terminology had entered Middle Platonism before his time. He suggests that the major intermediary was Aspasios, citing esp. De virt. mor. 443c and Aspasios 44.13. Evidently in agreement over Plutarch’s knowledge of Aristotle through Middle Platonism, rather than directly, is F.H. Sandbach, “Plutarch and Aristotle,” ics 7 (1982) 207– 232. After a thorough investigation of Plutarch’s citations, Sandbach concludes: “Plutarch or his sources knew of Topica, Metaphysics, Nicomachean Ethics, Historia Animalium, Rhetoric iii, and probably of De Caelo and De Anima. Direct acquaintance of the contents is certain only for Historia Animalium and Rhetorica iii.” (230). See also F.H. Sandbach, Aristotle and the Stoics (Cambridge, 1985) 2, 10, 12, 14, 33, 40, 60. (Donini has been attacked by F. Bec-

plutarch’s daimonology

47

suggests that Klembrotos is using Stoic ideas, but his speech is undoubtedly a composite, and intriguing Egyptian references (the place Kleombrotos has just returned from) suggest an Alexandrian source. Possibly someone in a circle with strong geographical interests like Eudoros is involved; for Kleombrotos has gained his information from a holy man who lived among the Troglodytes by the Red Sea. Eudoros was also interested in the views of Xenokrates, and it is Xenokrates who is given center stage.7 The general tenets of the speech are the following: 1. 2.

3.

The origin of daimonology is uncertain: it may be either Persian in origin (Zoroaster), Thracian (Orpheus), Egyptian, or Phrygian. Among Greek literary accounts we find that Homer uses the words daimon and theos indiscriminately, but Hesiod distinguishes four classes of rational being: gods, daimones, heroes, and men, the golden race being transformed into daimones and the demigods (ἡμίθεοι) into heroes.8 Others claim that the daimones are really human souls which undergo a transformation similar to that which we see taking place in the generation of water from earth, air from water, and fire from air; in the course of time virtuous souls, who may have had to undergo a purgatory, come to share completely in divinity; others which yield to temptation must be reincarnated and lead once more a shadowy and murky mortal life, like and exhalation (ἀλαμπῆ καὶ ἀμυδρὰν ζωὴν ὥσπερ ἀναθυμίασιν ἴσχειν [415ac]).

chi, “Platonismo medio ed etica plutarchea,” Prometheus 7 (1981) 125–145, 263–284, holding that Plutarch’s Aristotelian elements in De virt. mor. do not come from a Middle Platonic source.) See also F. Becchi, “Contributi allo studio del De virtute morali di Plutarco;” and idem, “Aristotelismo ed antistoicismo nel De virtute morali di Plutarco,” Prometheus 1 (1975) 160– 180. 7 On Xenokrates, see Krämer, Der Ursprung der Geistmetaphysik, 21–173, who sees Xenokrates as extremely important as a thinker not just a systematizer; and H. Dörrie, “Xenokrates,” re ix a. 2 (1967) 1512–1528. Dörrie is impressed by Xenokrates’ interest in triplets, of which the independent race of daimones make a part. He is puzzled by Xenokrates’ fragments which identify soul and daimon (Arist., Top. 2.6, 112a, 32; 7.1, 152a, 5, alluded to in Alex. Aphrod., 176.13, and Apul., De deo Socr. 15, and more explicitly in the Suda, 443.32). See also M. Détienne, De la pensée religieuse à la pensée philosophique. La notion de daïmôn dans le pythagorisme ancien (Paris, 1963) 65, n. 4; and Dillon, The Middle Platonists, xv; 22–39. 8 Plutarch, or Xenokrates, was not all that observant in regard to the Odyssey, where the use of daimon seems often to be an evil force, while theos represents a good one: compare 4.275, 5.396, 9.142, 10.65, 11.60, 12.169.

48

part 1, chapter 4

Though there may still be some justification in speaking of “Xenocratic” daimones, the texts where Plutarch cites Plato’s disciple offer little certainty. In De defectu 416d, Plutarch simply informs us that Xenokrates compared the divine to an equilateral triangle, the mortal to a scalene, and the daimonic to an isosceles. In De Iside 360e, Plato, Pythagoras, Xenokrates, and Chrysippos, acting within Greek tradition, presumably Empedokles, early Pythagoreanism, and folk-belief, taught that daimones existed which were “stronger” than men, but not sharing fully in the divine, having a share in the nature of the soul and the sense faculties of the body. This introduces his daimonological explanation of mythology, which is undoubtedly a distortion of the philosopher’s thought. Possibly all Xenokrates did was in a theoretical way with a fondness for geometrical symbolism use the daimones as an illustration. As a matter of fact, he only speaks of the “daimonic,” not daimones, in the triangle comparison. It is possible only a small part of Kleombrotos’ speech applies to Xenokrates, that giving their composition and comparing god, daimon, and man to equilateral, isosceles, and scalene triangles (equal on every side, partly equal, partly unequal, all sides unequal). Xenokrates probably used a traditional Greek concept, as Plato did, stemming partly from cult, where at least some daimones seemed to be neither god nor former man. We cannot really attribute anything else in the speech to Xenokrates, though perhaps it is still fair to speak of Xenocratic daimones, that is, daimones which never were, will be, or could be human souls, even though it is uncertain whether he ever held such a doctrine. Xenokrates, who interpreted the Demiourgos of the Timaios symbolically and had seen Plato turn the great daimon Eros into the great human instinct to possess to kalon, seems an unlikely candidate for systematizing monsters into early Hellenistic Platonism. His reductionist approach seems more likely to have favored the daimones as disembodied human souls. With geometricphilosophical reasoning, comparable to his work on the moon, as reported in De facie (943f), he probably in a side-remark simply applied his technique to a traditional element of Greek culture. Moreover, human souls without bodies might just as well be scalene triangles as a non-human-soul intermediate being, and the analogy might apply to them. Moreover, Plutarch in the Dion-Brutus sees no difficulty in treating Brutus’ daimon in the introduction as a renegade soul-daimon and in the Life itself as a folk monster. It is the Red Sea mystic who tells Kleombrotos that Apollo, after slaying the Delphic Python, was exiled to another world for “eight cycles of the great year,” then returned, a daimon turned into a god.9 A digression had preceded this

9 Dörrie, Der “Weise vom Roten Meer,” 95–110. See also P. Borgeaud, “La mort du grand Pan,”

plutarch’s daimonology

49

in which one friend, Demetrios, just returned from Britain, tells of the death of daimones on an island off the coast of Britain where Kronos lies bound in sleep. Philippos relates a story of the death of the Great Pan as an Egyptian pilot named Thamous sailed by “the island Paxoi,” an event important enough to catch the ear of the Emperor Tiberius, who sent his research scholars off to investigate it.10 Much the same exposition of daimonology, though briefer, appears in De Iside 361ef, where Isis and Sarapis are identified with Persephone and Pluto, chthonic daimones in Kleombrotos’ speech, and where the infamous deeds of the gods in the myths are said to be those of daimones. However, Plutarch is offering different types of explanation leading up to his symbolic interpretation of the Isis myth along Platonic lines. More disturbing is the end of De E where God, symbolized by Apollo (A-pollon), or rather the good Apollo, is contrasted with another deity or daimon, principle of birth and destruction, who should really be called, among other names or descriptions, Plouton (Pluto; De E 394b). However, the thought here seems to be confined to this one passage, and is probably meant to be highly poetic and symbolic. The closest parallel might be Plutarch’s description of Zoroastrianism in De Iside 369e–370c. The passage contains interesting allegory along etymological lines both in the Platonic vein of the One and the Many and the more Oriental vein of light and darkness.11

10

11

Rev. Hist. Rel. 200 (1983). 3–39. Both articles are treated in F.E. Brenk, “In the Light of the Moon: Demonology in the Early Imperial Period,” anrw ii.16.3 (1986) 2068–2145. Flacelière actually, though cautious, continued to maintain that Kleombrotos should be taken seriously. See for example, “La théologie selon Plutarque,” in P. Gros and J.-P. Morel (eds.), Mélanges de philosophie, de littérature et d’ histoire ancienne (Rome, 1974) 273–280. See J. Hani, “La mort du Grand Pan,” in Association Guillaume Budé (ed.), Actes du viiie Congrès, 511–519. For a summary of ingenious solutions to the nature of the source of the story see Flacelière, Plutarque. Œuvres morales vi, 92–95. Most recently, Borgeaud, La mort du grand Pan, who gives a complete summary of earlier opinion, treats the story as antiRoman propaganda. On allegorical interpretation in Plutarch see F. Wehrli, Zur Geschichte der allegorischen Deutung Homers (Leipzig, 1928) 26–40; F. Buffière, Les mythes d’homère et la pensée grecque (Paris, 1956) 67–70; J. Pépin, Mythe et allégorie (Paris, 1958) 167; and the interpretation of the Circe transformation (not alluded to by Pépin and Wehrli) Od. 10.239–240, fr. 200– 201 (Sandbach), Plutarch’s Moralia xv (London and Cambridge, Mass, 1969) 367–375. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 100–101, and Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 367–388, who give rather lengthy discussions on it, note that Plutarch quite surprisingly indulges even in the Stoic type of allegorizing. Flacelière, “La théologie selon Plutarque,” 372–380, interprets Plutarch’s use of theologia as the derivation of religious truth out of legends, through the use of rational criteria.

50

part 1, chapter 4

Perhaps we can get an insight here into the subtle penetration of his Platonic inspiration by foreign elements. Yet it seems impossible from this passage to deduce that Plutarch believed literally in a great daimon responsible for atmospheric disturbances, and there is little hint of super- and sublunary worlds elsewhere, as divided between these forces.12 Soury’s attempt to find evil daimones at work in the Lives yielded results almost as elusive as the daimones themselves. The most serious case would be Dion-Brutus where Plutarch in the introduction seems to be airing the doctrine of Chrysippos over the intrusion of evil daimones in the lives of good men. The idea is that evil daimonia (the terminology of Chrysippos in De stoic. repugn.and Quaest. Rom. [277a]) frighten good men from the path of virtue lest they receive a better portion in the next life than the daimones themselves. An objection is raised: only those mentally disturbed or sick believe in such things, and those who do, have the daimon of deisidaimonia in them. Following this we have a counter argument: but Brutus and Dion were philosophically trained and told their friends of their experience. The matter here has some relationship to De facie 944d, where daimones sent to perform functions like retribution act out of envy (as here) and must be punished with re-incarnation (incarnation?). One would expect Plutarch to follow out this manifesto; but in Dion 54 and 56 he seems to go out of his way to describe Dion’s feelings of guilt over the murder of his rival Herakleides, and the vision is fittingly that of a huge Erinys.13 The vision of a daimon to Brutus in chapter 36 of that life is one of the highlights of the nocturnal bizarre in the biographies. But for this event, which takes place at Abydos just before Brutus crosses into Greece, Plutarch introduced disturbing elements as well to the serious demonological interpretation. Brutus is portrayed as stretched to the limit by anxiety and the tent is dimly lit. The vision, fittingly Xenocratic in its monstrous size, like that of Dion, when challenged identifies itself as “your evil daimon,” but the omen is not recorded by the philosopher Publius Volumnius, who is supposed to

12 13

[en: See on the issue L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch of Chaeronea and the Gnostic Worldview,” 401–417.] On this, see my articles: Brenk, “Le songe de Brutus,” 588–594; idem, “‘A Most Strange Doctrine’,” 4–5; Russell, Plutarch, 77–78. The vision is reported in Appianus, Bell. civ. 4.134. E. Gabba, Appiano e la storia delle Guerre Civili (Florence, 1956) 135 and index, 254, following Christ-Schmid and Kornemann, finds little likelihood that Plutarch or Appianus read one another. The incident is mentioned by Nilsson, Geschichte ii, 213. He points out that the daimon speaks Greek in Valerius Maximus’ version of the story (1.7.7), but the vision comes to Cassius of Parma after the battle of Actium, not to the other Cassius before Philippi, much less to Brutus.

plutarch’s daimonology

51

have recorded all of the omens, and the supposedly Epicurean explanation of Cassius sounds remarkably like our own Plutarch on other problems.14 Moreover, Plutarch’s Roman readers should have been familiar with the story in Valerius Maximus, an author well-known to Plutarch, who told it of Cassius of Parma after the battle of Actium. (Incidentally, the phantom spoke Greek in Valerius.) In the retribution passage, Caesar 69, the appearance of the daimon is a sure sign that the murder of the imperator was not pleasing to the gods. Here when Brutus sees it again, “he understood his fate and plunged headlong into danger.” In short, Plutarch retained his epoche (philosophical caution in speaking about the divine), and perhaps it is not entirely unchivalrous to accuse him of exploiting questionable material in the interest of melodramatic biography. More fruitful an idea and more at home in Plutarch’s religious philosophy is the identification of daimon with nous, a facet of the conception of daimon as the disincarnate human soul. One can find good discussions of this in Babut, Dillon, Corlu, and Russell.15 This idea was very ancient in Greek philosophy, and makes itself felt in the Timaios (90a). The theory of the “others” in De defectu, was that the human soul after death becomes successively heros, daimon, and theos.16 At the end of the Romulus Plutarch indicates that one does not become a god by decree but only through virtue and purification, passing through these stages. His myths are probably meant to be taken as much symbolically as literally, but his conception of the human composite aids their structure. In De virtute, De animae procreatione and elsewhere, the human composite is made up of body, soul, and mind (soma, psyche, nous or logos). Interesting in De virtute and elsewhere is the frequency with which body is said to be tied to soul or soul to nous with a cable of some sort.17 The physical nature of the 14

15 16

17

On this, comparison must be made with Plutarch’s numerous explanations of statue portents and other miraculous occurrences in the Lives. The terminology is decidedly nonEpicurean. For Cassius as an Epicurean see A. Momigliano, “Epicureans in Revolt,” jrs 31 (1941) 151–157; and E. Paratore, “La problematica sull’epicureismo a Roma,” anrw i.4 (1973) 116–204. Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 430–440; Corlu, Le démon de Socrate, 47–64; Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 219–223; Russell, Plutarch, 74. See Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 470–473, who notes that this makes Plutarch radically different from the Stoics, who would overlook such a qualitative difference between divine and human realms. Plutarch in Romulus 28 treats the apotheosis of Romulus as similar to the Greek fables about Aristeas of Prokonnesos and Kleomedes of Astypaleia. For these two Greeks see R. Flacelière, E. Cambry, M. Juneaux, Plutarque. Vies, i (Paris, 1957) 234. In De virtute 445c; 446ac, Anim. an corp. 501d, De amor. prol. 493e, and De tranq. an. 465b,

52

part 1, chapter 4

soul thus permits an ascent into an atmosphere of its own nature, while the shuffling off of soul by nous leaves what one might call a nous-daimon. Thus his eschatological myths are more closely related to the celestial geography than are Plato’s. The concept of nous-daimon is most clearly set forth in De genio, but as A. Corlu remarks, it does not by its nature exclude the concept of protective and helping daimones, those who like athletes past their prime run along the track urging the competitors to the finish, or like swimmers who have made it to the shore passing a hand to those yet in the sea, a concept put expressly into the mouths of Pythagorean speakers.18 The most distinctive features of Plutarch’s eschatological myths are his preoccupation with the moon, the second death of the souls, his use of Dionysiac imagery, his avoidance of a vision of the Forms, and in De facie the apparent, though disguised, release of the soul through love of God, described in terms of the Platonic Form of the Good (De facie 943–945). De sera, whose theme is the ultimate punishment of evildoers either in this life, perhaps through their children, or at least in the next, remains close to Plato and is not all that ingenious. Its severity is tempered by the suggestion that punishment after death is a thought more to be promoted among the masses than taken seriously by intellectuals, and by the humorous reincarnation of Nero into “a vocal creature, frequenter of marshes and lakes and swamps” for his benefactions to “that race whom the gods most loved,” an amelioration of the sentence to turn his soul, already pierced with incandescent rivets, into a viper which eats its way out of its mother’s womb.19 As in all his myths the celes-

18

19

the soul is conceived of as a ship kept only by its cable from being swept over the sea or dashed down a river. Le démon de Socrate, 59. For the purpose of harmony, he believes Plutarch downplayed differences in daimonology. See also Détienne, De la pensée religieuse. Unfortunately he is a bit too ready to snuff out demons. The work is valuable for the fragments collected. He believes in a pre-Pythagorean lunar daimonology which influenced all subsequent ones, but unfortunately the evidence is slim (Aet. Plac. 2.30.1, svf 404.10). Also valuable is H. Thesleff, An Introduction to the Pythagorean Writings of the Hellenistic Period (Åbo, 1961), and S. Skovgaard Jensen, Dualism and Demonology. The Function of Demonology in Pythagorean and Platonic Thought (Munksgaard, 1966) esp. 60–107. Recently, J. Hani, “Le mythe de Timarque chez Plutarque et la structure de l’extase,”reg 88 (1975) 105–120, shows the close relationship of the myth to the experience of the sleep in the cave of Trophonios. In the same issue, 206–219, Babut gives a review of recent literature on Plutarch, along with his own ideas on many subjects, including Corlu’s book on De genio, in “Ἱστορία οἷον ὕλη φιλοσοφίας:’ Histoire et réflexion morale dans l’ œuvre de Plutarque,” reg 88 (1975) 206– 219. See J. Dumortier, “Le châtiment de Néron dans le mythe de Thespésios,” in Association

plutarch’s daimonology

53

tial voyage is important, and here the course of the souls resembles that of spindles. Out of Delphic loyalty he seems to include an oracle of Apollo, too high for his visionary Thespesios to reach because of the shortness of his cable. The moon is very important to the other myths.20 Xenokrates had associated it with the daimones. As Détienne points out, theories about the moon had entered Pythagorean speculation, and they seem to have interested Stoics before Plutarch. In Amatorius 766b reincarnation takes place on the moon. In a fragment of Plutarch’s De anima (201 Sandbach), the Elysian plain is located on the surface of the moon lit by the sun, and the souls wander in the celestial region before rebirth.21 In De facie, where it is difficult to tell whether the scientific part, with Plutarch’s lucky guess that the moon was earth, or the eschatological part primarily encouraged Plutarch to publish, we find a surprising harmony of celestial and religious geography.22 Hades (942f, 943c) lies between earth and moon, while the Elysian plain is described not as we

20

21

22

Guillaume Budé (ed.), Actes du viiie Congrès, 552–559, and R. Frazer, “Nero the Singing Animal,” Arethusa 4 (1971) 215–218. For the period in general, see E. Cizek, L’époque de Néron et ses controverses idéologiques (Leiden, 1972). It is difficult to track down the source of this lunar daimonology. See P. Boyancé, “Les Endymions de Varron,” rea 41 (1939) 319–324 [= in idem, Études sur la religion romaine (Paris, 1972) 283–289]. He looks for Stoic and Pythagorean precedents, and believes Varro wrote a book with the title Endymiones, in his Menippean satires, in which beings of this name lived below the moon (Tert., De an. 54.2, and 55.4: sublimantur animae sapientes … apud Stoicos sub lunam; in aethere dormitio nostra … aut circa lunam cum Endymionibus Stoicorum). He incorrectly states (284) that the souls of the spoudaioi (sages) alone become daimones citing Diog. Laert. 7.151; the text reads: Φασὶ δ’ εἶναι καί τινας δαίμονας ἀνθρώπων συμπάθειαν ἔχοντας, ἐπόπτας τῶν ἀνθρωπείων πραγμάτων· καὶ ἥρωας τὰς ὑπολελειμμένας τῶν σπουδαίων ψυχάς. The implication is that they are separated daimones, who are spirits that watch over men, and heroes, which are the souls of the just. A pun on Ἠλύσιον Πεδίον (Elysian Plain), as though derived from Ἥλιος (the Sun). The geography of Plutarch’s myths is modeled on passages like Phaidros 248a–e. Plato here does not speak directly of a vision of the Ideas, but Plutarch seems to be surprisingly reticent about it. For Plato see W.K.C. Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy iv (Cambridge, 1975) 421–427. For Plutarch’s language in the myths, see Russell, Plutarch, 71–72, and A. Corlu, Le démon de Socrate, 92–109. On De anima, see M. Tassier, “Plutarchus over het leven na de dood (De anima),” Kleio 2 (1972) 107–115. On this see H. Görgemanns, Untersuchungen zu Plutarchs Dialog De facie in orbe lunae (Heidelberg, 1970), and F.H. Sandbach, “Plutarch’s De Facie,” (review of Görgemanns), cr 23 (1973) 32–34. For the composition of the dialogue, see H. Martin, “Plutarch’s De facie: The Recapitulations and the Lost Beginning,” grbs 15 (1974) 73–88.

54

part 1, chapter 4

might expect, as that part lit by the sun, but as the part which faces the heavens (only fully in the sun’s rays at new moon). The place of purgation is located in the “gentlest part of the air,” called “the meadows of Hades,” while the souls, which resemble rays of light, cling to the moon, from which at times they are swept away. The interlocutor of this had gained his information from a servant of Kronos living off the coast of Britain (shades of Kleombrotos in De defectu) so it is not surprising to learn that the souls, of the same substance as the moon, suffer in gorges there called Hekate’s recesses, similar to those in the depths of the Red Sea.23 If they slip off they must be charmed back; “of such are Tityos, Typhon and the Delphic Python” (945b), psychai without nous (a somewhat topsy-turvy conception of the disincarnate souls, modeled on the evil precosmic soul of De animae procreatione).24 The three Moirai (Fates) are located on sun, moon, and earth, while in a famous passage, as noted before, a second death takes place on the moon. The attendants of Kronos here (οἱ περὶ Κρόνον) explain to the clairvoyant narrator a doctrine which looks very much like an attempt by Plutarch to tidy up his previous thought on the subject. In De defectu the decline of the oracles was due to the departure of the daimones to another world. Now the daimones appear to be soul-daimones, who are given a promotion and leave for a better position. As they receive the ultimate transformation (ἀρίστη ἐξαλλαγή), the powers go to another place. This, say the attendants of Kronos, who list themselves among the “better ones” (βελτίονες), happened to the Idaian Daktyloi, the Korybantes in Phrygia, as well as the Boiotian Trophoniads in Oudora, “and thousands of others in many parts of the world” who keep their rites, honors, and titles, “but whose powers have gone elsewhere.”25 Of the “better ones” some receive the transformation sooner, some later, when nous is separated from psyche through love (ἔρως) for the image (εἰκών) in the sun, by which “shines forth the desirable, beautiful, divine, and blessed (τὸ ἐφετόν, καλόν, θεῖον, καὶ μακάριον) for which all nature, in one way or another strives” (De facie 944e). In the structure of the essay we find a description of soul-daimones arriving at the

23 24

25

Something few scholars seem to have noticed. At 944b–c Troglodytes are mentioned (such as those who lived near the Red Sea mystic in De defectu). On the precosmic soul see Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 202–203. [en: An updated bibliography in L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch and the Image of the Sleeping and Waking Soul,” passim, but especially 221–222.] See H. Cherniss, Plutarch’s Moralia xii, 205–213. The word Οὐδώρα is a mystery, appearing nowhere else (Aldine: οὐδώσᾳ, Basiliensis: Λεβαδίᾳ) but since the shrine at Lebadaia was in good condition at the time, Cherniss restores Οὐδώρᾳ, the mss. reading.

plutarch’s daimonology

55

moon, with some of them being swept off, that is clinging to the moon, and then falling off, while others turn upside down and sink into it as though “dropping into the deep.” Others gain a firm footing, and “crown themselves with feathers” (943d). Then the subject is dropped for a disquisition on Xenokrates’ great leap (θεῖός τις λογισμός) in understanding the nature of the moon and its relationship to the stars (943f–944c). Now begins a new daimonological section, suggesting the daimonology of Xenokrates as propounded in De defectu, but introduced in such a way that the daimones here seem to be the souls of the type previously left clinging to the moon. Not the departure of intermediate being daimones for other worlds in a multiple universe, but the transformation of the soul-daimones into pure nous is responsible for the decline of the shrines. Presumably they now move into the noeton (the intelligible realm). At 944e there is a statement which has been interpreted as applying to all human beings, but which as a matter of fact only applies to the “better” souldaimones: once their soul (psyche) has been separated from their mind (nous), they will achieve the “ultimate alteration” (so Cherniss for ἀρίστη ἐξαλλαγή). The nous is separated from the psyche by love (ἔρως) for the image (εἰκών) in the sun through which shines forth the manifest. Plutarch does not explicitly say “God” here, but in the light of his general theism, a reader well acquainted with all his writing would probably think of God. At 945d he seems to introduce the creator God somewhat gratuitously, though suggested by the Timaios, and only a few lines before the close of the treatise. Finally, though to kalon seems most apt in traditional Platonic language about the Forms as the destiny of the soul, to epheton, to theion, and to makarion suggest a theistic God rather than an Idea. Dörrie presumes that all souls eventually achieve the “best transformation,” that into pure nous, an assertion not necessary from the De facie.26 Those referred to are the “better ones,” daimones who have a cult or operate as attendants at a cult site. Presumably they have gone through an initial purification, and are different from the soul-daimones who in section 943d either fall off the moon or sink back into it, following the daimonological theme of nature finding its own place, or the daimones of 944d, who seem to be Xenocratic daimones, but who are later described as being reincarnated, “cast out upon earth confined to human bodies” for exceeding their license to punish malefactors. Thus these daimones are clearly treated as soul-daimones.27 It is possible that

26 27

“Gnostische Spuren,” 110. Dörrie, “Die Stellung Plutarchs,” 50, perhaps mistakenly speaks of a voyage through plan-

56

part 1, chapter 4

such souls or daimones could never escape the cycle. In the similar passage of De defectu 415bc, the better (βελτίονες) souls reach the transformation from souls into daimones, but only some souls pass “from the daimones” through purification to share completely in divinity (θειότης). In De genio metempsychosis naturally takes place on the moon, the moon’s affinity to daimones is stressed, the road to Hades is the side of the moon opposite the sun, the moon passes over the “Styx” from which the better souls are rescued, and the unclean slip off in terror and consternation. But his major preoccupation is with the concepts of nous, daimon, and psyche. The souls in their celestial voyage are carried from above by their own nous or daimon floating over the soul like a cork, a symbol of its activity in life, especially in the life of Sokrates (De genio 592af). The souls ascend through a magnificent celestial sea, a passage as much worth reading for its literary flamboyance as for its religious exuberance.28 Meteorological bodies pass by Timarchos in psychedelic colors to the accompaniment of the harmony of the spheres; then celestial elements in exotic gyrations open up on rivers of fire transforming blue to white and causing the “sea” to boil; then to a great abyss “in what seemed to be a sphere cut away,” in which roars and groans of animals, wailing of babies, and mingled lamentations of men and women startle the hero out of his life. When a celestial guide appears from nowhere to ask if he would like anything explained, Timarchos responds, “Everything, for what

28

etary spheres. Rather, Plutarch conceives of a celestial sea with shoals and shallows— possibly representing the Milky Way—planets floating by like islands, and the abyss (χάσμα)—probably the earth (= Hades). The Styx is the path to Hades, and souls fall off the moon at periods of 6 months, presumed to be those of lunar eclipses. Professor Sandbach suspects that the Styx is the cone of air which is in the shadow cast by the earth. There have been several recent attempts to reconcile the political and philosophical parts of the De genio: M. Riley, “The Purpose and Unity of Plutarch’s De genio Socratis,” grbs 18 (1977) 257–273; A. Aloni, “Ricerche sulla forma letteraria del De genio Socratis di Plutarco,” Acme 33 (1980) 45–112; and D. Babut, “Le dialogue de Plutarque Sur le démon de Socrate. Essai d’ interprétation,” Bull. Budé 1 (1984) 51–76. Riley sees Sokrates as resolving the tension between philosopher and citizen (269). Aloni notes a more all-embracing providence, based on metempsychosis in Theanor’s speech as opposed to that of Simmias (77). Babut sees Plutarch dividing humanity into three groups according to their relationship with the divine: those with complete mastery of self in direct communication with the divine world, those who are slaves to their passion, and an intermediate group represented by the conspirators, whose courage and moral qualities do not completely shelter them from passion, and who are often troubled and surprised by events and deceived by the predictions of their divination (69).

plutarch’s daimonology

57

here is not marvelous?” (590c–591a).29 Through the work of P.H. De Lacy and B. Einarson, though we may still find the vision marvelous, we need not be quite so confused as Timarchos. Now J. Hani, while substantially in agreement with their interpretation, has added further clarification, and even offered a celestial map for the aid of future voyagers intending to duplicate that trip. Plutarch’s allegorizing and humanizing of religious myth can be observed here. As Timarchos looks down into a great abyss (χάσμα), he hears the cries of roaring animals, wailing infants, and the mingled lamentations of men and women. This abyss, also apparently called Hades, is loosely identified with the earth, the place of punishment for souls. Hani would take the cries of the babies to be not those of the untimely dead, the ἄωροι of Vergil, Aeneid 6.426–429, but rather souls departing for rebirth as beasts or babies. But this does not explain the mingled lamentation of men and women. More likely these are souls returning from life on earth, like those in De facie 944b, described as the souls of the chastised coming up from the earth to the moon, and out of its shadow, with lamentation and wailing. In any case, Hades is a purgatorio, not an inferno. The stumbling block in this myth is the sudden appearance of what seems to be hypostases, something strikingly Neoplatonic in tone which has intrigued Krämer, Dörrie, and Dillon.30 The suggestion of Dionysiac themes

29

30

P.H. De Lacy and B. Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii (Cambridge, Mass. 1959) 461–467; J. Hani, Plutarque. Œuvres morales viii (Paris, 1980) 39–67, esp. 55–58, and 226–232. He sees the principal theme as the unifying of the πρακτικός (practical) and θεωρητικὸς βίος (theoretical, i. e. philosophical life) (61). Hani agrees on virtually all details with De Lacy and Einarson, except on the “surge:” “As they crested the surge, the islands ‘came back’.” The word used for “surge” (ῥόθια) is actually plural. Hani argues rather convincingly that Plutarch has in mind a planetary map. De Lacy and Einarson took the surge to be the belt bounded by the tropics, or the tropics themselves, as the shores of the planetary sea (464). Hani, Plutarque, 227 note 8, prefers the crests of the ecliptic on a zodiacal map, with the farthest point away being the height of the surge. See also D.A. Stoike, “De genio Socratis (Moralia 575a–598f),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 236–285. For Plutarch’s interest in color in these myths see Russell, Plutarch, 71–72. For another possible parallel between Vergil’s Aeneid 6.739–742 (aliae panduntur inanes / suspensae ad ventos) with De genio 590b, see F. Solmsen, “The World of the Dead in Book 6 of the Aeneid,” cp 67 (1972) 37, and my article: F.E. Brenk, “Most Beautiful Horror: Baroque Touches in Vergil’s Underworld,” cw 73 (1979) 1–7. [en: See now J.N. Bremmer, “The Golden Bough: Orphic, Eleusinian, and Hellenistic-Jewish Sources of Virgil’s Underworld in Aeneid vi,” Kernos 22 (2009) 183–208]. Krämer, Der Ursprung der Geistmetaphysik, 98, n. 250. See also Dörrie, “Zum Ursprung,” 331–343. The matter from Dillon can be found in his The Middle Platonists, 188–230, esp. 214–215.

58

part 1, chapter 4

along with the afterlife is also most intriguing, as R. Turcan has noticed.31 In De Iside 362b Dionysos is identified with Osiris-Sarapis and associated with death and rebirth. In De sera 565e–566a Lethe receives a quite original description in which Dionysiac imagery seems to express elements ambivalently good or evil. In this rather light interlude in Plutarch’s otherwise horrendous, though sometimes witty, Nekyia Thespesios is carried up by beams of light until he reaches a great chasm. Other souls draw themselves together like birds, alight, and walk around the rim of the chasm. But this part is no inferno. Instead, a Bacchic grotto with pleasant foliage and flowers wafts soft, perfumed breezes to induce a quasi-alcoholic inebriation as of wine, making the souls expansive and friendly. This place, called the place of Lethe (Forgetfulness) by the heavenly guide, is already beginning to capture the fancy of Thespesios as an ideal place to stay, when the guide pulls his Pinocchio away by force, explaining that his faculty of reasoning (τὸ φρονοῦν) is quickly “dissolved away and liquefied by pleasure,” while the non-rational part (τὸ ἄλογον) feeds upon it and stimulates the recollection of the body, thus drawing the soul towards birth (γένεσις) through “earthward inclination” (ἐπὶ γῆν νεῦσις). This lack of conscious choice, which has been supplanted in the myth by pure emotional inclination and an almost natural drift downward, is untypical of Plato’s Politeia but fits in somewhat with his Laws and parts of the Phaidros. In Plutarch the process of purification, or the movement up, is not so clear, and ascent seems more a product of natural disposition than a conscious effort to escape from this world. One might in particular cite De sera 565e where one soul is borne down toward birth (γένεσις, that is, rebirth) through a weakness of logos and 31

Les sarcophages romains à représentations dionysiaques (Paris, 1966) 3. See also M.P. Nilsson, The Dionysiac Mysteries in the Hellenistic and Roman Age (Lund, 1967) 123; Y. Vernière, “Le Léthé de Plutarque,” rea 66 (1964) 22–32; R. Turcan, “Les sarcophages romains et le problème du symbolisme funéraire,” anrw ii.16.2 (1978) 1700–1735; and G. Koch and H. Sichertmann, Römische Sarkophage (Munich, 1982). The negativity of the Dionysiac imagery in De sera Numinis Vindicta is strange, considering the associations of Dionysos with liberation and purity of soul in the gold tablets from South Italy; see B. Feyerrabend, “Zur Wegmetaphorik beim Goldblättchen aus Hipponion und dem Proömium des Parmenides,” Rh. M. 127 (1984) 1–24. The Lethe passage has also been studied by S.G. Cole, “New Evidence for the Mysteries of Dionysos,” grbs 21 (1980) 223–238, notes: “Souls who drink from this water will tread a sacred road in the underworld which other mystoi and bakchoi tread.” She argues that it means a follower of Dionysos, and refers to Plutarch’s Consolatio ad uxorem 611de, where consoling his wife over the death of a child he argues that bacchic initiation has removed the fear of death (224, 237). See also W. Burkert, Griechische Religion der archaischen und klassischen Epoche (Stuttgart, 1977) 436– 440.

plutarch’s daimonology

59

neglect of contemplation (τὸ θεωρεῖν) through τὸ πρακτικόν—which De Lacy and Einarson translate as “a practical proclivity.” Others are drawn toward rebirth through the desire to gratify ἐπιθυμίαι (translated by these authors as “licentiousness”) through the body, since in the afterlife there is only “an imperfect shadow (σκιά) and dream (ὄναρ) of pleasure without consummation (πλήρωσις).” Besides the natural tendency down, an added element appears, found also in Philo and possibly a contemporary strain of Platonism: souls, or daimones, which end up in rebirth—Philo would call them evil daimones— have an inordinate appetite for sensual, and in particular sexual, pleasure (De gigantibus 17–18).32 As T.J. Saunders points out, in the Timaios (esp. 40a, 42bc, 91d) and in Laws (903e 5–904a 1) Plato seems to blur the distinction between phenomenal and Idea worlds and attribute a kind of mechanical or physical ascent and descent to souls, what Saunders calls a new scientific eschatology.33 The state of the soul automatically determines where it will go. With so much emphasis on the Timaios both in Alexandrian Middle Platonism, and in Plutarch’s own Platonic studies, it is not surprising that this nuance should have entered his

32

33

See De Lacy & Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii, 285–289, for text, translation, and commentary. The comparison of the souls to birds appears in Vergil, Aeneid 6.309–312, where he uses Homeric similes to heighten his effect, but the idea of the souls receiving wings is from the Phaidros. See also, A. Aloni and C. Guidorizzi, Il Demone di Socrate. I ritardi della punizione divina; R. Klaerr & Y. Vernière, Plutarque. Œuvres morales vii (Paris, 1974) 167, however, take to praktikon as “par besoin d’ agir.” This seems to be supported by Arist., en 1139a 27, where praktike is opposed to theoretike; i.e. the souls have no taste for intellectual life or contemplation and are drawn toward immersing themselves in the world again. For a commentary on the myth itself, see 215–225, esp. 220–222, with rather full notes and bibliography. For Philo’s doctrine of “evil angels,” i.e. souls which fall into bodies, see J.M. Dillon, “Philo’s Doctrine of Angels,” in Winston & Dillon, Two Treatises of Philo of Alexandria, 197–206. Fr. 200 Sandbach has some similarities with Philo in the natural tendency of the soul toward rebirth and the role of pleasure. Particularly striking is: ποθοῦσαι δὲ καθ’ ἡδονὰς τὴν συνήθη καὶ σύντροφον ἐν σαρκὶ καὶ μετὰ σαρκὸς δίαιταν ἐμπίπτουσιν αὖθις εἰς τὸν κυκεῶνα … (34–36) F.H. Sandbach, Plutarchi Moralia vii (Leipzig, 1967) 126. T.J. Saunders, “Penology and Eschatology in Plato’s Timaeus and Laws,” cq 23 (1973) 232– 244. [en: On Plutarch’s eschatology, see H.G. Ingenkamp, “Juridical and Non-Juridical Eschatologies—and Mysteries,” in Pérez Jiménes & Bordoy Casadesús (eds.), Misticismo y religiones mistéricas en la obra de Plutarco, 131–141; A. Pérez Jiménez, “En las Praderas de Hades: imágenes, metáforas y experiencias escatológicas de las almas buenas en Plu., De Facie 943c–e,” in L. van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 333–343; A. Setaioli, “Plutarch and Pindar’s Eschatology,” ibidem, 397–405.]

60

part 1, chapter 4

eschatology. Here a divine guide helps out, and in De genio, soul-daimones who have completed the course of life assist others, but elsewhere in De facie, the rise of the soul depends upon its purity, the achievement of which is not well explained. In the myth of Timarchos in De genio, souls which have a docile inferior part guided by a strong nous seem to rise without difficulty whereas others only rise with difficulty or not at all. In the myth of De genio some souls simply fall off the moon and float down as a “Styx” approaches and are carried away by “Hades,” which here seems to be rebirth; and other souls coming up from incarnation, which are foul and unclean (ἀκάθαρτοι) and rejected by the moon, fall away and are borne downward, all without a conscious choice (591c). In another symbolic approach, Timarchos is told by the guide that the soul overcome by passion is like a submerged body barely held up by a buoy (nousdaimon) and souls returning from incarnation are like things rising from the mud. In one more approach, the soul-nous-daimones are stars: stars which are extinguished are souls sunk in the body; those lighted up and reappearing from below are souls coming back from incarnation; stars moving about on high are the “daimones of men said to possess nous” (591f). In Consolatio ad uxorem 611d–f, he asks his wife to draw support from the teaching of the Dionysiac mysteries into which they have been initiated, that a child’s soul, having little contact with matter, has a better chance of escaping rebirth than that of an adult. In De anima fr. 178, death (teleute) is etymologically allegorized as mystery (telete), and in De facie 943c, the entry of the blessed into heaven is described as the return of exiles, with a joy most like that of initiates. He need not be speaking of Dionysiac mysteries or symbolism here, but the thought is near. In the Amatorius, the “mysteries of Eros” resemble those of a Dionysiac thiasos (procession). The true lover (erotikos) when he has reached the place beyond and has associated with the beautiful (τὰ καλά) as is his right (θέμις) grows wings and celebrates the mysteries of the god, escorting him in the dance above until it is time for him to go to the meadows of Selene and Aphrodite; then drugged by sleep (καταδαρθών), he begins another birth (γένεσις) (766b).34 Recently D. Babut has turned his attention to the De genio with an eye toward integrating the apparently inconsistent daimonological parts, or perhaps better, integrating a dialogue where no inconsistency might have been observed save for the acuteness of the Quellenforscher.35 In De genio a num-

34 35

R. Flacelière and M. Cuvigny, Plutarque. Œuvres morales, x (Paris, 1980) 150. “La doctrine démonologique,” 201–205. One cannot do justice here to Vernière, Symboles et mythes. Besides an introduction to philosophical myth and a summary of Plutarch’s

plutarch’s daimonology

61

ber of positions are elucidated, apparently in conflict, or at least representing different approaches. First, Galaxidoros claims that the daimonion (extremely vague in Greek and perhaps best translated “the divine thing,” or “the supernatural power”) was nothing other than the knowledge of ordinary divination by sneezes and so forth. This initial speech, which meets resistance among other members of the company, is followed by that of Simmias on a higher theological level in which daimones are the “superior ones” (κρείττονες) who communicate with “daimonic” men, not faintly and in dreams as with the rest of men, but directly, reaching their nous through intelligible discourse (or thought or word, logos) without sound (588e). In the myth of Timarchos we find a vision in which nous, said to be a daimon (a reference to Timaios 90a), carries the lower part of the spiritual entity (psyche) through a celestial sea to the higher reaches. This nous-daimon is described as external and like a buoy holding up the soul below. Finally, in the concluding speech, Theanor presents a vivid scene of daimones aiding souls on their way to salvation. Having terminated their earthly existence, now like exathletes they stand or run along the sidelines encouraging the competitors to the goal, or like swimmers having reached the shore, hold out a hand to those approaching. Babut successfully demonstrates how the individual discourses are the building blocks of a complex architectural structure in which each piece, with the exception of the provocative introduction by Galaxidoros, harmonizes beautifully with the other elements, of which that by Theanor is the clé de voute. Finally he notes that the moral rather than theological context of De genio distinguishes its daimonological aspect from that of the other treatises. Putting this into a broader context we should recall Dörrie’s conviction that the principal daimonological strain in Plutarch was not the existence of superhuman beings with an ontological existence separate from human souls, positioned between men and gods, nor the Hesiodic conception of guardian daimones, nor the daimonological interpretation of religious myth, but the transformation of a human soul into a daimon, and through total release from the soul to possession of divine status (θειότης), a successive purification in an ascent conceived at least symbolically as upwards.36 Combined with this central tenet is the necessity of seeing Kleombrotos’ discourse in De defectu, which through

36

major myths, she discusses his use of allegorical interpretation, daimonology, doctrinal content, nature of the eschatology, nature of the gods, celestial geography, myth as a literary genre, its importance in Plutarch, and his relationship to later Platonists who wrote myths. “Gnostische Spuren,” 92–116, here 109.

62

part 1, chapter 4

G. Soury, La démonologie de Plutarque has led scholars astray for too long, as at least partially a parody by Plutarch of pseudo-scientific literature. This aspect, developed at length in Dörrie’s last article, “‘Der Weise am Roten Meer’,” seriously undercuts Kleombrotos’ speech and puts the last stake through the exaggerated demonological approach to Plutarch.37 Babut’s sensible approach to De genio, harmonizing and emphasizing Plutarch’s consistent attitude toward daimon and daimones, should lead to a better understanding not only of his religious philosophy but also of the compositional technique of the Plutarchan dialogue. Though not entirely modeled on Plato’s and at times structured differently, for example, the Amatorius compared to the Symposion of Plato, the basic conception is the same. An initial speaker with unacceptable positions raises the central issues to be discussed. Thrasymachos’ assertions in the Politeia are not Plato’s highest thoughts, but track the discussion of the Politeia into one of justice and injustice. Moreover, the individual viewpoints, kaleidoscopic in their diversity, stimulate the mind toward appreciating the nuances in the final or superior conception, as for example in the Symposion where “wrong” ideas about Eros and beauty become sublimated into a comprehension of the instinctive drive of the psyche toward the intellectual possession of the Form of the Beautiful. The false starts aid in correcting wrong impressions. By applying a proper understanding of compositional technique to Plutarch’s daimonological treatises one can put logos into their apparently disordered souls. For example in De genio, Galaxidoros’ false start frames the question of to daimonion, really daimones and daimon, as one of supernatural clairvoyance and communication. Soon we see the close relationship between daimonic, daimones, and nous, and the nature of the daimonic man’s soul as opposed to that of the multitude who only faintly achieve spiritual perception. The myth of Timarchos illustrates the internal perspective, the tractability of the daimonic man’s psyche to his nous, while opening a new vista, the importance of hearing the daimones, that is, the supernatural logos, not for this life, but for its relationship to the destiny of the soul in the next. We also learn that daimones are former human souls who out of compassion and sympathy, having completed a similar course, help those in bodies reach the goal. The myth of Timarchos removes a curtain to reveal the eschatological dimension of human life, but since its major purpose is to illustrate the necessity of the

37

“Der ‘Weise vom Roten Meer’,” 95–110. M. Détienne, “Xénocrate et la démonologie pythagoricienne,” rea 60 (1958) 271–279, put all but the finishing touches to the supposed reconstruction of Xenokrates’ daimonology by R. Heinze, followed by J. Daniélou.

plutarch’s daimonology

63

docility of psyche to nous, never introduces a vision of the final destiny of the nous released from the soul.38 Not only De genio contains parts leading to an architectural whole, to use Babut’s conception, but also the complex of Plutarch’s dialogues arrives at a more comprehensive view of this new daimonology. On a logical basis, De defectu would appear to be the first major consideration of daimonology by Plutarch. The apparent ineptitude of Kleombrotos not only raises the daimonological issues causing so much controversy within the dialogue but also states the themes which haunted Plutarch throughout his life, and which he eventually sublimated into forms peculiarly his own. Among the various elements raised by Kleombrotos are the guardianship of the daimones, the nature of evil daimones, the relationship of daimones to human souls, their role in cult and shrines, their nature as “superior” beings, and their death and final destiny— conceived here as the departure for another world. The De defectu, rather tentative and hesitant, seems willing to entertain folk superstition. From there on, in this theoretical framework at least, Plutarch moved in an allegorizing direction, though the basic assumption that daimones are human souls goes back to Hesiod. As Ammonios says, “Are they anything else than souls that make their rounds “in mist appareled,” as Hesiod says?” (431c). Particularly Kleombrotos’ talk of the death of daimones, an idea directed toward Greek nature deities (Kleombrotos speaks of Naiads, while Hesiod speaks of “Nymphs with goodly locks, daughters of Zeus bearing the aegis,” fr. 304 Merkelbach and West),39 is later elevated to the concept of the death of the psyche on the moon, liberating the nous (apparently for the noeton and the vision of God, synthesized with Plato’s Forms and One). Plato himself in the Symposion not only composed in Diotima’s speech the passage which became the foundation for Middle Platonic daimonology, the intermediate status of the daimones and their role as mediators between the divine and men, but also allegorized away his “great daimon” Eros into the instinctive drive for possession of the Form of the Beautiful. Thus Plato followed the general tendency of Greek intellectuals toward folk religion and superstition. The process is similar to that of Euripides in the Bakchai who turned the daimon Dionysos into the primitive life forces and communion with 38

39

[en: On Plutarch’s notion of the tripartite soul in the context of Platonic tradition, see Raúl Caballero Sánchez, “La Estructura Tripartita del Alma de los dioses en la tradición platónica: Los Testimonios de Alcínoo, Plutarco y Plotino,” Luc van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 85–109.] R. Merkelbach & M.L. West, Fragmenta Hesiodea (Oxford, 1967) fr. 304 (Rzach 1913, fr. 171) 158. See also R. Flacelière, Plutarque. Œuvres morales, vi (Paris, 1974) 186.

64

part 1, chapter 4

nature associated with the mythology and religion of that god, or who in the Hippolytos equated Aphrodite with the psychic instinct for love and sexual pleasure, while Artemis becomes identified with the instinct for sexual purity, freedom, athleticism, and a pure communion with nature. The leap in Plutarch’s thought here can be seen by comparing two dialogues, De defectu and De sera, the former of which appears to be earlier. De defectu explains the cessation of oracular activity as the departure of the daimones for another kosmos in an Epicurean universe which has an infinite or at least a very large number of kosmoi. The theory runs into intense opposition and is denounced as a plagiarism, itself philosophically dubious. However, apparently later and after more reflection, the same idea is reconstituted in a new form. The daimones which appear in Kleombrotos’ speech as intermediate beings which have nothing to do with human souls now have their descriptions, activity in cults, mysteries, shrines and so forth, transferred to daimones which are former human souls. While waiting for the “best of transformations” they are employed on earth. With good behavior they are promoted, achieve the separation of nous from psyche, and depart for their new assignment, thus causing the cessation of the oracle. Plutarch as usual treats such daimonological material with a touch of humor, but his new conception illustrates a radical recasting of the identical matter, incorporated now into his basically serious theme of the identification of daimones with souls in a state of purification toward their final destiny. De defectu did not need an eschatology, but Plutarch at that time might have been incapable of the newer conception which encouraged such visions. The De sera looks like a magnificent place to introduce the final vision, but instead, mingling horror with wit, Plutarch ended with Nero’s soul saved from the daimon torturers, incandescent rivets, and life as a future Indian, Pindaric, or Nicandrian viper (according to the readings of various textual critics) to become reincarnated: into a species more gentle, some sort of singer of odes, an animal living by swamps and ponds; for where he has gone wrong he has paid his debts, and he deserves something worthy from the gods, since of his subjects, the race best and dearest to God he liberated.40

40

Plutarch, De sera 567f. On the passage, and some textual difficulties, see Klaerr & Vernière, Plutarque. Œuvres morales, vii, 224, note 4.

plutarch’s daimonology

65

Thus there is no advancement in his conception here more than there is in the daimonological explanation of mythology in De Iside. Nor are there no anomalies in his architecture. The evil daimon at the end of De E is hard to explain away otherwise than as Alexandrian Platonism either taught by Ammonios or put under his name. Otherwise the pieces fit together architectonically, a beautiful structure retaining Platonic humor and inspiration. But there is also a disturbing side. Each great vision, with the exception of that in De genio, ends not with eternal destiny, but with reincarnation. In De genio, too, the finale is not that optimistic. Timarchos’ last vision is that of the souls having become stars on high, but the divine guide ends by relating the murder of the daimonic shaman, Hermodoros of Klazomenai, whose enemies burned his body while his nous roamed freely through the world. Thus, even being a daimonic man has its occupational hazards, though Plutarch here, as elsewhere, may have decided to close with humor rather than horror. The De facie is most striking. The first nine-tenths consists of astronomical cosmology out of the spirit of the early Hellenistic period, based on sources from Xenokrates on. Suddenly we drift upwards in a sea of Middle Platonic transcendentalism, as spiritual voyeurs of a universe of lunar souls and of nous stripped of psyche. Even Plato of the Timaios would be embarrassed. But having reached the top of the visible world and learned of the separation of the soul through love of the “Desirable, Beautiful, Divine, and Blessed,” for us the myth, like the world in the Politikos, suddenly rolls backwards to a vision, not of the few entering into glory but to the pessimistic spectacle of the cycle of rebirth beginning again for the multitude.

chapter 5

De Iside et Osiride: Allegorical Interpretation and Syncretism In the portrayal of his youthful views in De E, Plutarch already shows a tendency toward allegorical interpretation. Much of this has to do with speculation on the pempad (five) along Pythagorean lines, including its designation as “marriage” and “nature.” Apollo is then split in two. In his deathless, eternal, pure, and solitary state he is Phoibos and Apollon. In his turning into winds and water, earth and stars, generation of plants and animals, fire and the like he is Dionysos, Zagreus, Nyktelios, and Isodaetes. For this god they sing emotional dithyrambic strains; for Apollo they sing the paian music, regulated and chaste. Apollo is ageless and young, Dionysos in many guises; Apollo orderly and serious, Dionysos playful, wanton, and frenzied. Equally related to the number five is the harmony of music, composition of the world’s elements, senses, parts of the world, animate beings (gods, daimones, heroes, men, the irrational and beastly), the supreme first principles of the Sophist (Being, Identity, Divergence, Motion, and Rest), and finally the categories under which the Good displays itself (moderation, due proportion, mind, science and arts and true opinions, pleasure, 387f–391e). In Ammonios’ speech at the end of this dialogue, we find similar interpretation: Apollo the supreme being, unity; Hades or Pluto, symbols of diversity and the forces of destruction and change. Finally, Plutarch’s inclination toward simpler, more direct solutions to religious problems, letting certain elements serve perhaps as symbols, can be seen in De Pythiae oraculis 397c, where in spite of the long discussions on daimones and pneuma in De defectu, Theon, the speaker who is given the principal place in the dialogue, opts for a very simple, uncomplicated, and reasonably acceptable solution to the problem of Delphic prophecy: in inspiration the god puts into the mind of the prophetess a vision and creates a light in her soul regarding the future, “for this is inspiration (enthousiasmos)”; neither the voice, utterance, or diction (γῆρυς, φθόγγος, λέξις) is that of the god. This in general seems to be Plutarch’s method of arriving at a solution, to propose a number of solutions, some of which are chosen for their bizarreness, then to gradually arrive at a rather elevated intellectual and spiritual answer. This method leaves the impression of disorganization and incoherence, and one must admit that his addressee, Klea, must have been very confused at times by his explanations.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_008

de iside et osiride: allegorical interpretation and syncretism

67

J.G. Griffiths has given an excellent commentary and introduction to De Iside.1 Plutarch’s work is too long and diverse to treat it in much detail here, but some of the major attitudes and tendencies can be noted. First of all Griffiths points out that Plutarch’s sources were very old. The principal ones were Manethon and Hekataios of Abdera, both under the first Ptolemy. Griffiths would see his sources as primarily Eudoxos of Knidos, Hekataios of Abdera, Hellanikos of Lesbos, Manethon, and Timotheos from the fifth and fourth centuries, Antikleides, Archemachos of Euboia, and Phylarchos from the third. After this he finds few sources and only two from the Roman era. The general picture of the cult fits the early Hellenistic period, with only some features of cult practice drawn from the Imperial period. Griffiths gives the sources for various parts of the work. Important for our purposes would be the myth (Manethon, Hekataios, and Eudoxos), euhemerism (an unknown third century or later source) and daimonology (Xenokrates and Chrysippos), dualism (Theopompos and possibly Eudoxos), and interpretations (Pythagorean, Platonic, Stoic, Gnostic, with mostly pre-Hellenistic references to myth and cult). The inconsistencies in the final conclusions lead Griffiths to suspect that Plutarch was using some handbook, a missing link, but in Griffiths’ view it was most likely “a Stoic author of Neo-Platonic sympathies”—a rather strange use of terminology in itself.2 In the introduction to De Iside, Plutarch tells the addressee, Klea, a devotee of Isis, though it is not clear that she was a priestess in the cult, that the key to appreciating Egyptian religion, and the Isis myth in particular, is allegorical, or symbolic interpretation. Though the lines are not always immediately evident, there is an ascending scale of interpretation in which one goes beyond the literal meaning. Thus we find first the euhemerist solution, the daimonological—leading into Zoroastrianism and Greek dualism—and, finally, after warning against Stoic physical allegory, a symbolic interpretation of the Isis myth along Platonic lines. However, as Griffiths notes, in spite of certain attitudes taken in the treatise, Plutarch, like Cornutus, used every conceivable type of allegorical interpretation: etymological, physical and moral allegory.3 And Flacelière remarks, in his introduction to Theseus and Romulus,

1 Griffiths, Plutarch, De Iside et Osiride. 2 De Iside et Osiride, 75–100, on the sources. Griffiths does not want to rule out Poseidonios, though preferring “a Stoic author of Neo-Platonic sympathies,” (100). Hani, La religion égyptienne, 12–22, esp. 13–14, however, citing recent source work on Plutarch, believes he personally read a considerable number of the authors he cites. 3 Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 100–101. On this see also Wehrli, Zur Geschichte, 26–40; Pápin,

68

part 1, chapter 5

that he liked the euhemerist approach.4 Plutarch gives some description of the theories of Euhemeros of Messene, though in the eyes of some modern scholars he misunderstood the novelistic or fictional quality of Euhemeros’ writing. Plutarch thinks the theory leads to atheism (360a) but actually, perhaps drifting from his source, speaks more favorably of it later on. The daimonological interpretation (360e–361d) is very close to that in De defectu, but more stress is put upon its being at home in Greek thought (Homer, Hesiod, Empedokles) and it is trimmed down a bit to fit the Isis legend more specifically. Typhon would be an evil daimon and Isis and Osiris daimones turned into gods. Physical allegory forms a bridge to the dualist section. As for the Greeks Kronos is time (chronos), Hera air (aera), so Osiris is the Nile, Isis the earth, Typhon the sea; or Typhon is heat, hostile to moisture (363d), or the solar world, vs. Osiris the lunar world, while Isis is the moon made pregnant by the sun and so forth. In this passage the dismemberment of Osiris is compared to that of Dionysos. There follows a strongly dualistic passage, which Griffiths thinks is representative more of the spirit of the essay and a spirit of compromise than a deep seated view of Plutarch, but Babut may be right in seeing his hostility toward the Stoics as inclining him in this direction. Herakleitos is praised and the Stoics are condemned, the first for seeing the world as caught between opposing forces of good and evil, the later for making God responsible for all, including evil (369b). Theopompos is his source for the Zoroastrian section. Its essentials are the creation of gods between Oromazdes (Griffiths prefers Horomazdes) and Areimanios (a daimon), the removal of Oromazdes beyond the sun, the alternate periods of success for each side in battles lasting three thousand years, the eventual victory of Oromazdes, and the apocalyptic paradise: “the earth shall be flat and level and one way of life and one government shall arise of all

Mythe et allégorie, 167, and A.J. Festugière, “L’exégèse allégorique dans le De Iside de Plutarque,” Ann. ephe, 5ème sect. (1960–1961) 104–105. 4 R. Flacelière, É. Chambry & M. Juneaux, Plutarque. Vies, i. Thésée-Romulus, Lycurgue-Numa (Paris, 1957); See H.J. Rose, “Euhemerus,” ocd (1970) 414–415, treated at greater length by H.F. Van der Meer, Euhemerus of Messene (Amsterdam, 1949); and H. Dörrie, Der Königskult des Antiochos von Kommagene im Lichte neuer Inschriftenfunde (Göttingen, 1964) 218ff. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 378–379, thinks Euhemeros’ influence was considerable and that his work was known and admired at Rome. G. Vallauri, Evemero di Messene. Testimonianze e frammenti (Turin, 1956) 48, noted that Kallimachos accused Euhemeros of falsity and bad faith, and that the inexactness in Plutarch leads to the conclusion that he had never himself seen the Hiera Anagraphe. See also K. Thraede, “Euhemerismus,”rac vi (1965) 877–890; here, 881– 882.

de iside et osiride: allegorical interpretation and syncretism

69

men, who shall be happy and speak the same language,” the crushing of “Hades” and the happiness of men needing no sustenance and casting no shadow. Hani, Nilsson, and Del Re felt Plutarch was quite traditional here.5 Zaehner, Molé, and Benveniste describe Plutarch’s religion as a form of Zervanism, though as Griffiths notes, there are many problems with the development of Persian religion.6 E.D. Phillips felt that Plutarch had missed the spirit of the great apocalyptic struggle, the Frashkart.7 At any rate, outside of his investigations into Roman and Greek religion, which are by no means thorough, Plutarch does not show much inclination to investigate other religions. He never mentions Christianity in his works, has little to say about Judaism (and that is not well-informed), and seems to avoid investigation of foreign religious practice in the Lives. From the standpoint of method, one might say that he tended to follow his sources, as here, without making independent investigation or bringing matters up to

5 Soury, La démonologie, 63, called Plutarch’s experiment with Zoroastrianism “a dangerous digression.” He was criticized by M. Pohlenz in his review of the book, Gnomon 21 (1949) 350, for attributing a dualistic system to Xenokrates. Others who seem to overemphasize the Zoroastrian element in Plutarch are W.H. Porter, The Life of Dion (Dublin, 1952) 47– 48; Latzarus, Les idées religieuses de Plutarque, 66 and 98; and J. Beaujeu, “La religion de Plutarque,” L’ Inform. Lit. 11 (1959) 207–213. J. Hani, “Plutarque en face du dualisme Iranien,” reg 77 (1964) 489–525, and R. del Re, “Il pensiero metafisico di Plutarco: Dio, la natura, il male,” Stud. It. 24 (1950) 33–64, take an opposite stand, seeing his position as basically Greek. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 24, thinks one should not soft-pedal the dualism here, challenging Oakes, The Religion of Plutarch, but does not see much of it elsewhere in Plutarch’s writings, and therefore concludes he is influenced by the topic and his sympathetic manner of treating foreign ideas. 6 R.C. Zaehner, The Dawn and Twilight of Zoroastrianism (London, 1961) 123–124, sees Plutarch’s exposition as a “halfway house between catholic Zoroastrianism and the Mithraism of the Roman Empire,” and notes that Plutarch is silent about the most important rite, the great bull sacrifice. M. Molé, Cultes, mythe et cosmologie dans l’ Iran Ancien (Paris, 1963) 10–15, who otherwise seems to contradict Zaehner on every point, has little to say on Plutarch’s text, agreeing with M. Benveniste, The Persian Religion According to the Greek Texts (Paris, 1929), and idem, “Un mythe zervanite chez Plutarque,” ja 215 (1929) 287–296, that Plutarch is describing a form of Zervanism (based on the sacrifice offered to Ahriman as well as Oromazdes). Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 478, believes the egg in the cosmology here may be an Orphic intrusion, with eventual roots in Egypt. Cf. S. Morenz, “Ägypten und die altorphische Kosmogonie,” in Aus Antike und Orient (Leipzig, 1950) 64–111 (= idem, in E. Blumethaland and S. Herrmann (eds.), Religion und Geschichte des alten Ägypten [Cologne and Vienna, 1975] 452–495). Turcan, “Le témoignage de Plutarque,” in idem, Mithras platonicus. Recherches sur l’hellénization philosophique de Mithra (Leiden, 1975) 14–22, shows how the Platonic idea of the mediator enters Plutarch’s description of Mithras in the De Iside passage. 7 Plutarque, interprête de Zoroastre, 505–511.

70

part 1, chapter 5

date. For example, in Turcan’s view, he followed Poseidonios for the tantalizing passage on the Mithraic rites of the pirates in the Life of Pompey (24), without going beyond that author.8 Next comes a description of Chaldaean dualism, regarding two beneficent and two maleficent planets, and a discussion of dualism in Herakleitos, Empedokles, Pythagoras, Anaxagoras, Aristotle, and Plato. As Griffiths notes, Plutarch opposes the Dyad, rather than the older Pythagorean Plurality, to the One (370e). This had been done by him, with Lamprias speaking, in De defectu 428f, where the One is more in the realm of numbers than principles, strictly speaking (a passage discussed by Dillon).9 Interestingly, in Ammonios’ speech at the end of De E, the One is opposed to Plurality. In regard to Plato, Plutarch in De Iside 370f speaks rather seriously of Plato changing his view in old age, and in the Laws (896d) openly speaking of what he had hinted at in the Timaios (35a), that the cosmos was moved by two souls, one good, one evil.10 Then comes an allegorical interpretation which is based on ideas appearing in Plutarch’s De animae procreatione. Here the world is like Plutarch’s conception of the human composite (soma, psyche, nous). Matter always existed, but only when logos associated with psyche (here manifested by movement and opinion [doxa]), did the world (kosmos, with a play on kosmos as order) come into being. Then incorporating ideas from numerous Platonic dialogues, he suggests that the reversal of the world’s motion is due to its forgetting the vision of the paradeigma it once had, at which time it must be recalled to its former state:11 There will be a time and often has been in the past, during which time its reflective power (to phronimon) becomes dull and is lulled to sleep, filled with forgetfulness of its proper role, and that element which from the beginning has been in communion and sympathy with body, drags it down and makes it heavy and unwinds the progress of the universe toward the right; it cannot, however, altogether disrupt it, but the better

8

9 10

11

See Mithras platonicus, 14–22, for an analysis of Plutarch’s approach (“Le témoignage de Plutarque”); and for reliance on Poseidonios for the pirate incident, Mithras platonicus, 5. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 484; Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 199. Plutarch liked to give priority to Plato’s “older” views. Cf. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 485, who cites Num. 11, and Quaest. Plat. 1006c, though actually the Timaios belongs to the “older Plato.” Plutarch, De animae procr. 1026ef [en: For more recent bibliography on the issue see Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch and the Image of the Sleeping and Waking Soul.”]

de iside et osiride: allegorical interpretation and syncretism

71

element rouses itself again and looks toward the model (paradeigma) with God aiding it to turn again and straighten itself out. One can find reflections of these ideas throughout Plutarch’s writings. Here Isis is the female principle, nurse, receptacle, with a longing for the highest things (Osiris as the Good).12 The identification of the Good with a god (God) shows a characteristic inclination in Plutarch’s thought (as for example the passage in De facie which introduces the idea of a second death) as is the longing for the Good (God). Horos is the world, a blend of matter and the Forms, but the picture gets more complicated: there is an elder Horos (identified with Apollo, born while Isis and Osiris were in the womb of Rhea), but this was only a picture and vision of the world (373c). The soul of Osiris is everlasting, but his body can be dismembered by Typhon. Hermes is logos, which causes Horos to win out over the destructive element. Whatever the sources of these ideas, one can find parallels with De animae procreatione and De sera, parts of the eschatological myths, the moral treatises, and the like.13 In De Iside the allegorizing is along the lines of the Platonic conception of the universe, though the idea of logos playing an important part becomes characteristic in later Platonism. However, Dillon’s interpretation of the passage on Osiris at 373ab may be misleading. He speaks of Osiris as the Logos, which has two aspects, the immanent and transcendent, distinguished as the soul and body of Osiris, the body being the Logos or Ideas immanent in matter. In reality Plutarch speaks of “the image of being in matter” (372f: εἰκὼν γάρ ἐστιν οὐσίας ἐν ὕλῃ γένεσις καὶ μίμημα τοῦ ὄντος τὸ γιγνόμενον [“for in matter generation is an image of being and becoming is an imitation of the existent”]). The soul of Osiris is not explicitly said to be the Ideas but more specifically “that which really is and is intelligible and good,” suggesting something like God in the speech of Ammonios in De E, rather than a plurality of Ideas. The body of Osiris is “the images from this with which the sensible and corporeal is impressed, and the relationships, forms, and likenesses which this takes upon itself, like impressions of seals in wax” (not necessarily immanent ideas).14 (Immediately 12 13 14

De Iside 372ef, ἔχει δὲ σύμφυτον ἔρωτα τοῦ πρώτου καὶ κυριωτάτου πάντων, ὃ τἀγαθῷ ταὐτόν ἐστι κἀκεῖνο ποθεῖ καὶ διώκει. [en: Abundant bibliography in H.-G. Nesselrath (ed.), Plutarch On the Daimon of Socrates. Human Liberation, Divine Guidance and Philosophy (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010).] Dillon, The Middle Platonists. He sees the wax image as common in Middle Platonism (Arius Didymus, Compendium of Platonic Doctrine, in Eusebius, Pr. Ev. 211.23, 3–6, and in Philo, Ebr. 133, Migr. 102, Mut. 134). To be more precise: Horos is not pure and uncon-

72

part 1, chapter 5

after speaking of Osiris as the unmixed and dispassionate logos, he speaks of Hermes as logos, a kind of defense lawyer in a trial of legitimacy for Horos, 373b) This type of allegorizing is different from that we find in a fragment which might come from his De anima. The different kinds of allegory may represent different stages in his life. In the fragment (200) we find an interpretation of Odyssey 10.239–240 in which the transformation of Odysseus’ men into swine by Kirke has the deeper meaning of palingenesis: οἱ δὲ συῶν μὲν ἔχον κεφαλὰς φωνήν τε τρίχας τε καὶ δέμας· αὐτὰρ νοῦς ἦν ἔμπεδος ὡς τὸ πάρος περ· They had the heads of swine, the voice, the hair, the shape; yet still unchanged their former mind.15 The interpretation is “as taught by Plato and Pythagoras:” the change of a soul into a shape according to its inclinations; how logos (Hermes) guards one against falling into bestial shape and leads the soul to the good (Good); and how fate and nature, like Empedokles’ daimon, wrap the soul in “unfamiliar shirt of flesh” (fr. b126, also quoted in De esu carnium 998c). Kirke, child of the sun, “joins birth to death and death to birth in unending succession.” Aiaia is the region of space where the souls enter on arrival. Kirke’s brew (the kykeon) is birth, mingling (kykosas) the mortal and the immortal. The crossroad (trioklos) refers to the parts of the soul: those guided by the appetitive are reincarnated as asses or swine, those guided by the irascible into wolves or lions (after Plato, Phaidon 108a, Gorgias 524a). In the next fragment (201), on Odyssey 4.563, the Elysian plain is the surface of the moon illuminated by the sun, where the good live. As J. Pépin notes, these ideas appear in slightly different form, though

15

taminated logos like his father; physis by undergoing changes of form in regard to noeton brings about the kosmos; Horos is the visible image (εἰκών) of the kosmos noetos (intelligible world) (373b). Thus the language is more redolent of logos than Ideas. Though the passage speaks of εἰκόνες, λόγοι, εἴδη, ὁμοιότητες, Ideas are not explicitly mentioned, unless one takes εἴδη and ὁμοιότητες as the Platonic Ideas. In something of a dualistic scheme, the Good (τὸ γὰρ ὂν καὶ νοητὸν καὶ ἀγαθόν) is opposed to the Evil. Through the force of logos—apparently the same as “the Good,” “the first and most dominant”—overcome by love, Isis-physis allows this Osiris, Good, First, most Lordly, Better, Logos to impregnate her with “emanations and likenesses” (ἀπορροαὶ καὶ ὁμοιότητες, 372f). The passage is a curious mixture of the middle and later Plato with the Egyptian Isis theology. See the text, translation, and commentary of F.H. Sandbach, Plutarch’s Moralia xv (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1969) 368–369.

de iside et osiride: allegorical interpretation and syncretism

73

similar, in Pseudo-Plutarch, De vita et poesi Homeri 126, which was most likely written in the early Empire, and in Pseudo-Herakleitos, Quaest. Homericae 72–73 (Pépin does not seem to have noticed the Plutarch fragments).16 In all, Hermes is identified with logos; like Plutarch, both stay close to the wording of Phaidros 256b and Politeia 614. Pseudo-Plutarch has the transformation of the men as palingenesis, but Aiaia as the place of wailing. The De Iside contains a wealth of material on Egyptian religion and Greek interpretation of it. For an evaluation one should consult Griffiths, but his principal conclusions can be noted here. It is striking that Osiris receives so much attention, and Sarapis almost none. As mentioned, little relates to Plutarch’s own Sitz im Leben, for example, shrines in Greece. The whole study is based on literary works relating to Egypt, while the interpretations are intensely Greek (Neoplatonic and Stoic, as Griffiths calls them). There are affinities with Philo, the Johannine gospel, and a touch of Gnostic-sounding matter. Unlike Apuleius, who stresses pantheism and pansyncretism, Plutarch identifies Isis with Demeter, and she is a goddess of wisdom, leading to gnosis of the highest being. The myth stresses the phallic element, offers a new episode in Byblos, and Dionysos is reflected in Osiris as pioneer of civilization. There is a surprising multiplicity of interpretation; that is, Osiris is Hades, Plouton, Dionysos, Okeanos, as well as the unmixed and dispassionate logos and the vertical side of the most beautiful of triangles. Isis, for example, is less Egyptian, the arbiter of sexual love. Typhon as the dry element seems to be a Greek elaboration. Hermes (Thoth) is given much prominence. The religious ideas Plutarch promotes are eternal life and immortality, based upon knowledge and insight, terms associated with God or Zeus, and later with Osiris, while the theme of overcoming death finds little attention. He looks for examples of moral purity: Osiris, the logos, “pure, uncontaminated, unmixed, and without passion,” is the guide for the souls when the souls are “set free and migrate into the realm of the invisible and unseen, the undefiled and unspotted, and the unmixed and dispassionate,” presumably the intelligible sphere. Only in philosophy, before this, can they obtain “a dim vision of his presence” (373b and 382d–383a, with 352a, 371a, and 375e). He avoids associating Isis with sexual life, women, the bearing of children, and love of parents for children, and there is no inkling of the Hellenistic and Roman conception of Isis-Tyche.17

16

17

Pépin, Mythe et allégorie, 112–121, gives a very ample bibliography and texts. See also Wehrli, Zur Geschichte; and F. Buffière, Les mythes d’Homère et la pensée grecque (Paris, 1956). For the Plutarch text and notes, see Sandbach, Plutarch’s Moralia xv, 367–375. Griffiths, De Iside et Osiride, 33–75, esp. 46. For an interesting and important textual

74

part 1, chapter 5

In general one may call it a nostalgic, anachronistic blend of antiquarianism brought into being by the interests of his own day, much like his biographies. In a very interesting study, J. Hani has treated the De Iside in a somewhat different way from that of Griffiths.18 Though studying individual points at great detail, he has at the same time tried to organize the material along general themes and groups as broached by Plutarch. Some of his more general observations about De Iside can be given here. He feels that Plutarch was a good religious historian, whose transcription of Egyptian was excellent, and whose description of the religion adequately depicts it. He attacks the position of Scott-Moncrieff and Hopfner that Plutarch is describing the religion of an esoteric priestly group. Hani thinks the Louvre Hymn, where Osiris is on a civilizing expedition, and Egyptian wisdom texts which reveal happiness in the world beyond show parallels with the contents of De Iside. He quotes P. Derchain to the effect that Festugière had not recognized the Egyptian character of the Corpus Hermeticum since he could not distinguish the intellectual basis from the mode of expression.19 For Hani the De Iside is incomplete, too preoccupied with spiritual advancement and disdain for popular Isism, while at the same time representing Plutarch’s most advanced views on the problem of evil, myth, demonology, and allegorical interpretation. Like Dörrie and others he sees Plutarch making significant progress on the road to Neoplatonism and later religious philosophy. In this respect he possibly overstates his case, taking Plutarch as a product of degenerate polytheism, “le polythéisme grec à son déclin, vidé de sa substance.” Plutarch’s attempt then would be to revitalize the philosophical spirit through

18 19

emendation to De Iside, see M. Marcovich, “Hades as Benefactor, Plutarch, De Iside 362d,” cp 69 (1974) 287–288, and more general, idem, “Textual Criticism of Plutarch,” Emerita 40 (1972) 157–165. See also C. Froidefond, “Notes critiques sur quelques passages du De Iside et Osiride de Plutarque,”reg 85 (1972) 63–71. Hani, La religion égyptienne, has tried to analyze the work on several levels, Egyptian, Greco-Egyptian (Alexandrian), Greek (6th cent.), Imperial, and Plutarchan. He notes Plutarch’s hostility toward the cult of Attis (8), toward Herodotos, who is never mentioned (15), gives some weight to Plutarch’s interrogation of Egyptian priests and philosophers in Egypt (vs. Griffiths) (10–11), and thinks he had read the 1st cent. ad Apion’s Aigyptiaka (vs. a sceptical Griffiths) (21). Hani also notes that he downplays the popular cult to Anubis (61), omits the parallelism between Osiris and Adonis—in Hani’s view dating to the Hyksos period (1730–1580bc) period—and that he never even mentions Adonis (84). Hani also believes that the demonological exegesis of the Osiris myth was present in the mysteries before Plutarch (338). La religion égyptienne, conclusions, 465–471. “L’ authenticité de l’ inspiration égyptienne dans le Corpus Hermeticum,” Rev. Hist. Rel. 161 (1962) 175–198, on Festugière, 176.

de iside et osiride: allegorical interpretation and syncretism

75

the fecundation of Egyptian religion, such as occurred later at Alexandria when the Platonic spirit took hold of Christianity. The grace of mystic revelation in the temple of Isis, vision, direct contact with the supernatural, a leap into the beyond, and the gift and reception of the divine favor, all, for him, prefigure the Plotinian ecstasy. It is difficult to go this far with Hani. Surely Isism did not mean that much to Plutarch, if we can accept Flacelière’s late date for the De Pythiae oraculis. It was like so many of his works, written on a particular theme, which, as so often, is treated sympathetically and a bit overstressed. He hardly meant it as a “tentative désespéré” to save the religion of ancient Greece. Even to state it in such a way might have been a puzzle to a Greek of that time. On the other hand, Hani is right in seeing Plutarch as a product of his time, and to some extent shaping it at least by popularizing religious and philosophical syncretism. Plutarch’s use of very early sources in his De Iside, with naught a word for contemporary Isism has always been mysterious. Something of a mystery, too, is why, in his Metamorphoses or Asinus Aureus, Apuleius gratuitously made the hero, Lucius, a descendant of Plutarch.20 Both Plutarch’s silence about contemporary practice and the unusual treatment given the cult are perhaps understandable in terms of his Roman adventure. Plutarch’s most impressionable days in Rome apparently were under Domitian. Under his reign he was very likely expelled, or at the least thought it advisable to remain out of sight.21 Moreover, at this time several of his friends were executed or punished. His silence about contemporary Isism may, therefore, have been intentional, since Domitian was its greatest promoter. There were, undoubtedly, great differences between the practice at his native Chaironeia, at Delphi, or at Athens, compared with that at the huge Isaeum Campense in Rome.22 Domitian in fact may have rebuilt the temple of Isis to stress the Egyptian heritage, through imitation of the temple at Memphis, rather than the Hellenized transmission of the cult.23 Thus the Roman form of the reli-

20 21

22 23

See Walsh, “Apuleius and Plutarch,” 20–32; 22 and 31 note 10. The reference is to Ovid, Met. 1.2.1 and 2.3.2. See C.P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 24–25. Plutarch probably had even stronger feelings about the matter than Jones believed. See F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch’s Treatment of Nero,” in A. Ceresa-Gastaldo (ed.), Atti delle xiv Giornate Filologiche Genovesi. Il protagonismo nella storiografia classica (Genoa, 1987). See F. Dunand, Le culte d’Isis dans le bassin oriental de la Méditerranée (Leiden, 1973) 4–17, 29–39, 132–153, 167–178. See M. Malaise, Les conditions de pénétration et de diffusion des cultes égyptiens en Italie (Leiden, 1972) 414–417; Cf. idem, “La diffusion des cultes égyptiens dans les provinces

76

part 1, chapter 5

gion, with its exotic aspects, its roots in the class of liberti and foreigners, and Domitian’s favoritism might have created in Plutarch a certain aversion if not contempt.24 Plutarch’s own interpretation of the religion is in fact a perversion of true Isism, the reduction of the myth and cult to a Middle Platonic allegory. Certainly he was not uninfluenced by some attractive aspects of the religion. In fact at a critical point in the De Iside, the myth, perhaps unconsciously, influences his Middle Platonism construct.25 His own essay on love, the Amatorius, with its idealized conception of heterosexual love may be inspired among other things by the idealization of the love of Isis for Osiris, a love going beyond the grave to win the beloved’s resurrection. However, for Plutarch the culmination of the religion is in the figure of Osiris, who represents the Platonic Logos, Form, and telos.26 We know little of the inner spirit of Isis religion at Rome at the time of Apuleius. Still, Lucius’ final initiation into the mysteries of Osiris, as the height of his religious conversion, sounds suspect.27 One would not get the impression from the aretalogies, the cult objects, and most of the inscriptions that Osiris, not Isis, is the culmination of the religion. In fact even the “Isis book” of

24 25

26

27

européennes de l’ Empire romain,” anrw ii.17.3 (1984) 1616–1684, esp. 1645. See also A. Roulet, The Egyptian and Egyptianizing Monuments of Imperial Rome (Leiden, 1972) 23–34; F. Coarelli, “I monumenti dei culti orientali in Roma: Questioni topografiche e cronologiche,” in U. Bianchi and M.J. Vermaseren (eds.), La soteriologia dei culti orientali nell’Impero Romano (Leiden, 1982) 33–67; 63–64. For the ethnic and social components see Malaise, Les conditions, 67–100. See S.M. Chiodi, “Tematica ierogamica nel De Iside,” in Brenk and Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 121–126. She observes that the figure of Isis (receptacle-chora) in Plutarch becomes very much conflated with both Eros and Penia of the Symposion, and at times takes on very positive aspects (124–126). This would seem to be the import of De Iside 371a–c, and 382f–383a, since Plutarch appears to conflate Osiris—as nous, logos, and as leader and king toward the Form of the beautiful—with the Form itself. See J.G. Griffiths, Apuleius of Madauros. The Isis-Book (Metamorphoses, Book xi) (Leiden, 1975) 53–54. He rightly argues against R. Thibau, “Les métamorphoses d’Apulée et la théorie platonicienne de l’ erôs,” Studia Philosophica Gandensia 3 (1965) 89–144, on this score (that in Apuleius the culmination is in Osiris, not Isis). He notes that there were distinctive rites for Osiris at this time (330, 335), but the evidence he cites proves nothing about the Roman shrine. Griffiths would think of the rites of Osiris being connected with the Serapeum. However, R.A. Wild, “The Known Isis-Sarapis Sanctuaries of the Roman Period,” anrw ii.17.4 (1984) 1739–1851, believes that the Serapeum of the Isis Campense may not have been constructed until the time of Alexander Severus, since 1st and 2nd cent. writers only speak of Isis in the Campus Martius (1813).

de iside et osiride: allegorical interpretation and syncretism

77

Apuleius, an appropriate name for the book, does not leave that impression from its imagery and description of the festival.28 Apuleius, then, with his stress on Lucius’ lineage deriving from Plutarch, may be saying as recent authors suggest, that the key to interpreting his Metamorphoses, and in particular the last, “Isis book,” is Plutarch’s Middle Platonic allegorizing of the religion, and that it is Middle Platonism, not Isism, which constitutes the true approach to the divine. The Isiac religion would be, then, only the final part of the general Platonic allegory running through the Metamorphoses. In the light of this interpretation, the initiation into the mysteries of Osiris is not historical for the Roman center, at least in the importance given it, but is essential to the Platonic allegory. Apuleius’ romance ends, then, with the novelistic expression of Plutarch’s Middle Platonic essay, very correctly entitled, not On Isis but On Isis and Osiris.29 28

29

There is some counter evidence. A number of inscriptions are made both to Isis and to Osiris, or to Osiris alone. See L. Vidman, Sylloge Inscriptionum Religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae (Berlin, 1969) 189–221. However, one should note that he records only 4 Greek and 2 Latin inscriptions at Rome with the name of Osiris, though there are numerous ones to Sarapis (indices, 342, 344). Presumably Osiris would receive some importance through the Heuresis or Inventio Osiridis (The Finding of Osiris), which seems to have formed a part of the Roman religious calendar in the Julio-Claudian period (see Malaise, Les conditions, 221–228). However, this festival can be understood as representing the triumph of Isis, and in fact Apuleius symbolically puts the climax of his work at the Navigium Isidis, not the Inventio Osiridis. I am grateful to Prof. M.R. Salsman of Boston University for looking at this section and making some useful suggestions. She is inclined, however, to believe that there were real mysteries of Osiris at Rome.

chapter 6

Plutarch and the Stoics In his very thorough study of the relationship of Plutarch’s thought to that of the Stoics, Babut came to the conclusion that in spite of similarities of terminology and personal friendship with contemporary Stoics, of admiration for certain Stoic heroes, and a softening of attitudes on some points, the Stoic system was at heart repugnant to him and was used very much as a foil (“révélateur”) against which his own ideas were expressed.1 More of Babut’s views on the subject can be summarized here. Surprisingly, Plutarch hardly alludes to the Stoics of his own day such as Seneca, Mousonios, Epiktetos, and again and again cites Chrysippos for views of the school. Babut claims that he did not appreciate the originality of Poseidonios, though often seemingly influenced by Panaitios and Poseidonios in his criticism of the Stoics. Much that was said by the Stoics was of course common ground in his time; hence it is possible to find what appears to be a preponderance of Stoic influence in An vitiositas, De amore prolis (though not in De sollertia and An bruta animalia), in De fortuna, De Alexandri Magni fortuna, and Ad principem ineruditum. In De exilio we find a cosmopolitan view of the world in which there is one patris, one God, and so forth. However, in De communibus notitiis 1076f he attacks the Stoic view of the kosmos as a city, alive in all its parts and ruled by the divine logos. He rejects the Stoic ekpyrosis (the conflagration which ends the world) in De E 388e–389c on the grounds that it would destroy Apollo (that is, the eternal God). At the opening of De Pythiae oraculis the Stoics are attacked for “mixing up god with 1 Plutarque et le stoïcisme: on allusion to Stoics of his own day, 16; dualism, 288; on admiration of certain Stoic tenets, 470–527; on basic separation from Stoics, 533; on evil daimones and Chrysippos’ idea of providence, 288–293. Cf. Russell, Plutarch, 67–71, who follows Babut. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 189, notes that Plutarch’s rhetorical compositions on ethical subjects, following a long established tradition, affected the austere “Stoic” attitude. He believes “a series of variation on topoi” have led commentators astray. Rather, he argues, Plutarch took a more broadminded stance in ethics, like that of Antiochos, against the StoicPythagorean asceticism seen in Eudoros and Philo, and used Aristotelian rather than Stoic terminology, 193. He also argues that, like other Middle Platonists, he developed no opposition to the principate like that of the Stoics, 198. For Dillon, Theon’s speech in De E reflects not Stoicism so much as the Platonism which had been infiltrated by Stoic logical concepts, 228. See also M. Zanatta, Gli opuscoli contro gli Stoici i. Delle Contraddizioni degli Stoici (Bari, 1976); and H. Cherniss, Plutarch’s Moralia xiii, Part 1 (De stoicorum repugnantiis) (London / Cambridge, Mass., 1976) esp. 369–406.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_009

plutarch and the stoics

79

all things,” and at the end of De defectu Lamprias attacks the unitary view of the kosmos (the orderly world) and the materialistic conception of it. In religious matters we find epoche (philosophical caution) and dualism. Babut feels he never solved the problem of evil, but was troubled by Stoic attempts, which as he saw made God responsible for evil. This is exemplified in the attack on Chrysippos over providence (1050e), and over the attempt to evade the dilemma by alleging certain oversights or through the use of evil daimones. At the same time Babut finds him sympathetic to Stoic pessimism, in the view that evil is everywhere and good is difficult to find (An virtus doceri possit 439b, De audiendis poetis 25b); and throughout the Lives one finds that there is no such thing as pure and unmixed virtue in this life. He has a tolerance for views on nemesis (probably from his sources) in Pompey 42, Aemilius 27, Camillus 37; and in Caesar 63 and Aratos 43 speaks of destiny as irrevocable. In morals he rejected apatheia (suppression of all the passions), and in questions of determinism rejected the Stoic position. Thus in Quaest. convivales 740d, Lamprias outlines a theory of three causes (fate, free will, and tyche). Determinism would destroy the idea of providence. He criticized the Stoic telos as putting means before ends. He criticized the Stoic allegorical interpretation (which as Pépin notes, he used himself). But he appreciated their belief in monotheism and repugnance to anthropomorphism, their belief in the divine power and its willingness to communicate with men. Babut takes the progression to divinity through the states of hero, daimon, god at the end of Romulus to be Stoic, a view Plutarch was willing to accept, even though against divine filiation. Babut believes that the doctrine of evil daimones was important to the Stoics, that the terminology used for it reflects that of Chrysippos (De defectu 419a, Quaest. Rom. 276f–277a, not in svf), and that the idea of a guardian daimon was Stoic. Where it is difficult to go along with Babut is in his judgment that Plutarch came more and more to accept the theory of evil daimones.2 However, it is quite possible that the introduction to Dion-Brutus either reflects a Stoic source, or that Plutarch wanted to introduce a Stoic theory into it. But as we have seen, the theory rather withers away within the Lives of these men. In Babut’s judgment there were a number of substantial matters where he was in sympathy with the Stoa: the fatherhood of God, divine intervention in the world, the incorruptibility and power of virtue, purity of intention in prayer, true piety, the use of superstition as a means of government, belief in portents—though wishing to see them as working according to natural laws—in seeing limits to rationalism, and looking for a middle ground between 2 Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 292, note 7; 389, notes 4, 5; 435–436.

80

part 1, chapter 6

atheism and superstition. But his general conclusion points in an opposite direction in spite of these similarities.3 3 Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 533, “Tandis que chez Plutarque, alors même que les mots sont les mêmes que dans les textes stoïciens, le fond, le soubassement d’idées et de croyances qu’ils traduisent, se révêle inconciliable avec la vision stoïcienne du monde.” [en: On Plutarch and Stoicism, see: P. Donini, “Science and Metaphysics: Platonism, Aristotelianism, and Stoicism in Plutarch’s On the face in the moon,” in A.A. Long & J.M. Dillon (eds.), The Question of Eclectism. Studies in Later Greek Philosophy (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1988) 126–144; T.L. Tieleman, “Diogenes of Babylon and Stoic Embryology: Ps. Plutarch, Plac. v 15. 4 Reconsidered,” Mnemosyne 44 (1991) 106–125; A.A. Long, “Stoic Readings of Homer,” in R. Lamberton & J.J. Keaney (eds.), Homer’s Ancient Readers: the Hermeneutics of Greek Epic’s Earliest Exegetes (Princeton, n.j.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1992) 41–66; Ch. Gill, “Peace of Mind and Being Yourself: Panaetius to Plutarch,” anrw ii.36.7 (1994) 4599–4640; Ph.T. Mitsis, “Natural Law and Natural Right in Post-Aristotelian Philosophy: the Stoics and their Critics,”anrw ii.36.7 (1994) 4812–4850; M. Mignucci, “The Liar Paradox and the Stoics,” in K. Ierodiakonou (ed.), Topics in Stoic Philosophy (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 1999) 54–70; S.Th. Newmyer, “Speaking of Beasts: The Stoics and Plutarch on Animal Reason and the Modern Case Against Animals,” Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica 63 (1999) 99–110; M.D. Boeri, “The Stoics on Bodies and Incorporeals,” The Review of Metaphysics: a Philosophical Quarterly 54 (2001) 723– 752; J. Mansfeld, “Plato, Pythagoras, Aristotle, the Peripatetics, the Stoics, and Thales and His Followers On Causes: (Ps.-Plutarchus Placita i 11 and Stobaeus Anthologium i 13),” in A. Brancacci (ed.), Antichi e moderni nella filosofia di età imperiale. Atti del ii Colloquio Internazionale Roma 21–23 settembre 2000 (Naples: Bibliopolis, 2001) 17–68; R. Brouwer, “The Early Stoic Doctrine of the Change to Wisdom,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 33 (2007) 285–315; G. Roskam, On the Path to Virtue: The Stoic Doctrine of Moral Progress and its Reception in (Middle-)Platonism (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2005); Ch. Gill, “Competing Readings of Stoic Emotions,” in R. Salles (ed.), Metaphysics, Soul, and Ethics in Ancient Thought: Themes from the Work of Richard Sorabji (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2005) 445–470; R. Caballero Sánchez, “Entre la necesidad del destino y la libertad del átomo: el clinamen epicúreo y la libertad de indiferencia (Plut., Stoic. Rep. 23, 1045 b–f),” A. Pérez Jiménez & I. Calero Secall (eds.), Δῶρον Μνημοσύνης: miscelánea de estudios ofrecidos a mª Ángeles Durán López (Sevilla: Libros Pórtico, 2011) 69–82; idem, “The Adventitious Motion of the Soul (Plu., De stoic. repugn. 23, 1045b–f) and the Controversy between Aristo of Chios and the Middle Academy,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 55–72; F. Aronadio, “Tracce di Una Polemica fra Accademici e Stoici: [Platone] Demodoc. 382e–384be Plut., De Stoic. Rep. 1034e,” in W. Lapini et al. (eds.), Gli antichi e noi: scritti in onore di Antonio Mario Battegazzore (Genoa: Brigati, 2009) 225–237; R. Bett, “Did the Stoics Invent Human Rights?,” in R. Kamtekar (ed.), Virtue and Happiness: Essays in Honour of Julia Annas (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2012) 149–169; J. Mansfeld, “Ps.Plutarch / Aëtius Plac. 4.11: Some Comments on Sensation and Concept Formation in Stoic Thought,”Mnemosyne 67 (2014) 613–630. See also R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Aesthetics and Religious Hermeneutics in Plutarch,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco, 207–213.]

chapter 7

Religion in the Lives: Daimon and Tyche In contrast to the Moralia, where daimon is used for the divinity, a spirit, or even the mind itself, in the Lives daimon is frequently associated with fortune or luck (tyche), if not even a synonym for it. One might recall that one of the chapters in M.P. Nilsson’s monumental study of Greek religion, as he came to the Hellenistic period, was entitled “Tyche and Daimon.”1 Another contrast is that, in the Moralia, tyche is often conceived as a godless linking of chance occurrences, a denial of reason or providence. Such is the line implicit at times in De fortuna Romanorum and De Alexandri Magni fortuna to some extent, more expressly in De fortuna, De sera, De tranquilitate, and in De defectu in Lamprias’ speech on the infinity of worlds. In the Lives, we find a drift toward what G. Herzog-Hauaser has noticed, Tyche as a divine power, or as a symbol of the guiding hand of providence.2 1 Geschichte der griechischen Religion ii, 200–218. Cf. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Der Glaube Der Hellenen (Darmstadt: Wischaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1976) i, 362–368, and ii, 297–311. He notes, ii, p. 303, n. 1, a line from Eur. Iph. Aul. 1136 where tyche, moira, and daimon seem to be equated. [en: See now also J. Sfameni Gasparro, “Daimôn and tuchê in the Hellenistic Religious Experience” in P. Bilde (ed.), Conventional values of the Hellenistic Greeks (1997) 67–109; Y. Ustinova, “Either a Daimon, or a Hero, or Perhaps a God: Mythical Residents of Subterranean Chambers,” Kernos 15 (2002) 267–288; A. Timotei, La démonologie platonicienne: histoire de la notion de daimōn de Platon aux derniers néoplatoniciens (Leiden: Brill, 2012).] 2 “Tyche,” re vii a, 2 (1948) 1643–1689. The only monograph on tyche in Plutarch is E. Lassell, De fortunae in Plutarchi operibus notione (Marburg, 1896), a collection of passages and some attempt at source criticism. He felt Plutarch was more tyche conscious when following Phylarchos (Pyrrhos, Aratos, Agis and Kleomenes) than Douris (Demosthenes), that in general he was less enthusiastic about tyche than his sources, but used it as a deus ex machina for historical and philosophical difficulties. A more general study is A. Buricks, Peri Tyches (Leiden, 1955). See also A. Pérez Jiménez, “Actitudes del hombre frente a la Tyche en las Vidas Paralelas de Plutarco,” Bol. del Inst. Helen. 7 (1973) 101–110. See also L. Edmunds, Chance and Intelligence in Thucydides (Cambridge, Mass., 1975). [en: See now the following studies: Torraca, “I Presupposti teoretici e i diversi volti della Tyche Plutarchea,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 105–155; F. Mestre Roca & P. Gómez Cardó, “Tyche e individuo: Ambigüedad de usos en las Vidas Paralelas de Plutarco,” in A. Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari di Plutarco, 295–305; W.J. Tantum, “Another Look at Tyche in Plutarch’s Aemilius Paullus— Timoleon,” Historia: Zeitschrift für alte Geschichte = Revue d’Histoire Ancienne 59 (2010) 448– 461; the volume edited by F. Frazier & D. Leão, Tychè et Pronoia: la marche du monde selon

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_010

82

part 1, chapter 7

As with so much of Plutarch’s religious thought, we observe not striking innovations as the use of familiar modes of thought in a newer and stronger personal, theistic conception. His attitude toward tyche is rooted as much in the Hellenistic past as in his contemporary world. Working with sources derived from Hellenistic writers, especially for the Greek Lives, as well as those close to his time for the Roman Lives, and with some Roman Lives using Polybios for a base, there is an unusual blending. No real study has ever been made of the peculiar nature of parallel lives and the influence of the ideology of one upon the other. However, in the peculiar mode of composition which Plutarch was working with, often a major source like Livy, with Augustan ideas of fatum and manifest destiny, runs parallel to a Greek Life written in the heyday of Hellenistic tyche fever. Plutarch obviously wrote quickly, frequently reflects the aura of

Plutarque (Coimbra / Paris: Imprensa da Universidade de Coimbra, 2010) includes numerous intersting studies: e.g. F. Frazier, “Introduction La marche du monde et les incertitudes de la tychè,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, viii–xxiii; F. Frazier, “Le De sera, dialogue pythique: Hasard et Providence, Philosophie et Religion dans la pensée de Plutarque,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 69–92; G. Roskam, “Socrates’ δαιμόνιον in Maximus of Tyre, Apuleius, and Plutarch,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 93–108; A. Pérez Jiménez, “La Providencia como salvaguarda de los Proyectos Históricos Humanos en las Vidas Paralelas,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 169–182; D. Leão, “Tyche, Kairos et Kronos dans le Phocion de Plutarque,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 183–194; R. Scannapieco, “I doni di Zeus, il dono di Prometeo. Strutture retoriche ed istanze eticopolitiche nella riflessione plutarchea sulla τύχη,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 207–238; A. Casanova, “Fortuna e carattere da Menandro a Plutarco—con una nota testuale su alcune citazioni di Menandro in Plutarco,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 239–250; F. Becchi, “La nozione di τύχη in Plutarco: una variabile secondo il genere?,” in I. Gallo & C. Moreschini (a cura di), I generi letterari in Plutarco, Atti del viii Convegno plutarcheo (Pisa, 2–4 giugno 1999) (Naples, 2000) 299–317; J.P. Martin, “Plutarque: un aspect de sa pensée et de son temps,” in Jean-Marie Pailler (ed.), Mélanges offerts à Monsieur Michel Labrousse (Toulouse: Service des publications de l’ université de Toulouse-Le Mirail, 1986) 59– 78; S. Swain, “Plutarch: Chance, Providence and History,” AJPh 110 (1989) 272–302; J. Opsomer, “Quelques réflexions sur la notion de Providence chez Plutarque,” in C. Schrader, V. Ramón & J. Vela (eds.), Plutarco y la historia (Zaragoza, 1997) 343–356; J. Opsomer & C. Steel, “Evil without a Cause. Proclus’ Doctrine on the Origin of Evil, and its Antecedents in Hellenistic Philosophy,” in T. Fuhrer & M. Erler (eds.), Zur Rezeption der hellenistischen Philosophie in der Spätantike (Stuttgart, 1999) 229–260; see also F. Becchi, “L’écrit de Plutarque Sur la Fortune: histoire d’ une interprétation”, in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 47–56; P. Volpe Cacciatore, “Fato e fortuna negli opuscoli contro gli Stoici di Plutarco: un problema ancora aperto,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 39–46; H.M. Martin, “Plutarchan Morality: arete, tyche, and Non-consequentialism,” in G. Roskam & L. Van der Stockt (eds.), Virtues for the People: Aspects of Plutarchan Ethics (Leuven, 2011).]

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

83

his sources, and seldom removes all contradictions. Thus while his own perception of the divine in the world should have excluded any grand role for an autocratic and independent tyche, we sometimes find passages which seem to support the opposite view. Within the pages of Plutarch’s Lives one can find a tyche which operates as pure capricious chance and one which is closely identified with providence. Or one might say, the sure sign of divine intervention toward a predetermined event in history is the striking presence of tyche. One of Plutarch’s major sources was Polybios, who lived a good two centuries before Plutarch. All of Plutarch’s meanings for tyche were already present in him, though its identification with the rise of the Roman Empire was obviously not so clear as in Plutarch. F.W. Walbank some twenty-five years ago devoted considerable attention to this problem in Polybios, and more recently he has added a few additional strokes.3 In general Walbank finds Polybios using tyche to describe acts outside the area of rational analysis, but in practice limiting it to sensational, apparently capricious events, such as the sudden reversal of a man’s fortunes, something that was almost a rule for Polybios. In contrast to Plutarch, he did not believe that the divine was swayed by moderate behavior (μετριότης) nor that arrogance in itself brought down divine vengeance. In contrast to such theistic preoccupations, he is more a child of the earlier Hellenistic period in that the instability of tyche is without reference to a theological framework. However, tyche begins to appear increasingly as something predetermined and teleological in the punishment of the wicked—in Walbank’s

3 F.W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius i (Oxford, 1957) 17–25; idem, Polybius (Berkeley, 1972) 61–65; idem, The Hellenistic World, 219–220. K. Sacks, Polybius on the Writing of History (Berkeley, 1981) (reviewed by K.-E. Petzold, in Gnomon 58 (1986) 139–145), separates two kinds of historical writing in Polybios, narration of events and praise and blame situations. In the latter, tyche and metabolai play a large role, since Polybios felt free to write “tragic history.” In the historical narrative, tyche was only to be used as a last recourse (36.17), 136–140. See also A. Roveri, “Tyche bei Polybios,” in K. Stiewe & N. Holzberg (eds.), Polybios (Darmstadt, 1982) 297–326. Plutarch seems to have invented much of the material on tyche in Aemilius. Polybios: 29.21, introduced the tyche theme, drawing heavily on Demetrios of Phaleron’s Peri Tyches. This suggests an all-powerful tyche. Livy 45.8.5, simply says: sine errore humano seu casu seu necessitate indiderunt (Perseus’ revolt from Rome), and goes on to speak of multorum regum populorumque casibus, speaking to the Romans on his staff in Greek; then speaking to the others in Latin, he drops a phrase about the mutability of fortuna. At 45.9, speaking about the fall of Macedon, he omits fortuna altogether. For Polybios’ biography of Philopoimen, see H. Achleitner, “Polybios’ Philopoimen-Biographie als Quelle für Livius,” Hermes 110 (1982) 499–502. Plutarch’s language (Philop. 17) is ambiguous, but suggests the imposition of a divine plan on a previous random tyche or all-powerful tyche theme. [en: M.R. Guelfucci, “Polybe, la Τύχη et la marche de l’ Histoire,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 141–168.]

84

part 1, chapter 7

view very close in conception to fate or providence. This type of tyche was then moved one step further to become linked with the rise of Rome, which forms the major subject of Polybios’ history, and became strongly teleological with words like σκοπός and οἰκονομία (1.4.1; 1.4.3) to describe it. Tyche then witnesses a fantastic transformation from pure chance into Stoic pronoia. Walbank also found a curious tension in Polybios, which perhaps we could extend farther and apply to Hellenistic historiography in general. According to the Hellenistic mode of thought, one should be able to find rational principles governing causes and events. In Polybios’ case the whole purpose of his history was to illustrate the intelligible principles that determined the rise of Rome. But this is absurd if the major events of history are dictated by pure chance. Polybios, of course, could still seek intelligible principles for success or failure without the need for a theological framework, and in a sense, perhaps, that is what Stoic pronoia is, a kind of predestination through the intelligible links between cause and effect. Walbank put to the test a suggested possibility, that Polybios had moved from an earlier Hellenistic concept of tyche such as that of Demetrios of Phaleron, and then through his own meditation on events gave it a new rationalistic orientation. But he found no support for this theory in relative chronology, since both rational and irrational tyche appeared in closely linked passages. He then concluded that Polybios was strongly influenced by current Hellenistic usage, which treated tyche as an objective reality, even as a goddess: it became a convenient label for one like himself, fundamentally a religious sceptic, to characterize fortuitous events or “acts of God,” without giving them a theological interpretation. A somewhat surprising result if one moves back from Plutarch to Polybios is that tyche, theos tis, to daimonion and to automaton seem to be synonymous. This is not so surprising if one moves in the opposite direction, from Homer to Polybios. But in Plutarch to daimonion seems clearly linked with a divine plan. The Latin title of Plutarch’s essay on why to theion (= to daimonion) is slow to punish used numen, and the English translations prefer “God” or “the Divinity.” Certainly fortuna or “luck” would be mistranslations. In contrast places in the Lives where to daimonion punishes, especially if they are drawn from Hellenistic authors, might still retain a vestige of the tyche conception. In Polybios to daimonion seems especially associated with retribution, particularly when the characteristic vice brings its own damnation. Thus in 4.81.4 to daimonion, by directing the mercenaries’ vices of impiety and lawlessness (ἀσέβεια and παρανομία) against themselves, encompasses their destruction. In his more recent Sather lecture and in his new book on Hellenistic civilization Walbank, while not modifying his original statements, adds a fur-

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

85

ther dimension of the dilemma, presented by rationalistic history which had a strong moral purpose. A reader of this history should be able to unravel the intelligible principles upon which human events evolve, but at the same time the moral lesson of learning to cope with vicissitudes seemed meaningless in a world without a capricious and irrational tyche. Walbank also adds how in Hellenistic culture in general tyche was both haphazard chance and benevolent, providential action, or even perhaps the work of a malevolent power. However, he finds it impossible to determine just how the citizen of a town with a protective Tyche actually conceptionalized this figure—represented in art with a cornucopia and mural crown—as a theological figure in his or her own life. One might add also that the very principle of rationalism would seem to exclude a kind of theistic providence necessary to explain the course of events. For this reason, to abandon the kind of tyche so popular in the Hellenistic period, is also to abandon rationalism. Walbank at times mentions the inconsistency often found in Polybios where an event is described both as the planned outcome of diligent preparation and as the logical consequence of certain human actions, and at the same time is described in terms of tyche. But here along the lines of double causality and motivation so well developed by A. Lesky in his books and articles on Homer there is a tendency in Greek literature to describe both human and divine causality. That an event should be attributed to tyche, treated either as irrational chance or as a great supernatural force determining events, or as an aspect of a theistic God or providence, is not inconsistent with a human causality and motivation which may appear as logical or necessary to a modern reader. This basic conception of tyche as actually a sure indication of providence and the direction of the universe appears frequently in the Lives, but there are a number of other changes in Plutarch’s Lives from the tyche essays.4 For example in Caesar, Caesar’s tyche is played down, and though in the essay De fortuna Romanorum (319d) we learned that tyche saved him from any retribution for the death of Pompey, in Caesar 66 every effort is made to convince the reader that Caesar, who falls at the base of Pompey’s statue and covers it with his blood, was led there “by some daimon” to make retribution to his enemy, Pompey. Unlike the essay, the Life of Antony makes Antony’s inordinate passion, not his tyche, the cause of his downfall. Similarly the early history of Rome is more a product of providence than tyche, and Aemilius Paullus is hardly an example of glorious 4 C.P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 67–71, is impressed by Plutarch’s knowledge of Rome at the time the De fortuna Romanorum was written. He sees Plutarch inspired by Polybios, but with the peculiar viewpoint that Rome “was a stable element in the chaos of history, an anchor in storm and change,” 70, something reflected in his mature work.

86

part 1, chapter 7

tyche so much as an example that the world is a mixture of good and evil; for in the moment of triumph he suffered the loss of his sons, something he attributes to the gods, nemesis, or tyche (following Livy, or very likely, Polybios). One might say that really two pictures of tyche emerge. One is based on Plutarch’s dualism and recognition of the world as balanced between good and evil, an idea enunciated in De tranquilitate (474b) where he comments on a verse of Menander: By every man a daimon stands, the moment he is born, the mystagogue of life, a good one … The rest of Menander’s fragment helps to contrast different approaches to a popular attitude, both good Hellenistic conceptions. Plutarch has truncated the saying to mold it into his procrustean bed of the vicissitudes of life to be accepted with euthymia (good spirit). The full fragment runs: ἅπαντι δαίμων ἀνδρὶ συμπαρίσταται εὐθὺς γενομένωι μυσταγωγὸς τοῦ βίου ἀγαθός· κακὸν γὰρ δαίμον’ οὐ νομιστέον εἶναι βίον βλάπτοντα χρηστόν, οὐδ’ ἔχειν κακίαν, ἅπαντα δ’ ἀγαθὸν εἶναι τὸν θεόν. ἀλλ’ οἱ γενόμενοι τοῖς τρόποις αὐτοὶ κακοὶ πολλὴν δ’ ἐπιπλοκὴν τοῦ βίου πεποημένοι † εἰπάντα τὴν ἑαυτῶν ἀβουλίαν ἐκτρίψαντες † ἀποφαίνουσι δαίμον’ αἴτιον καὶ κακὸν ἐκεῖνόν φασιν αὐτοὶ γεγονότες. By every man a daimon stands, the moment he is born, the mystagogue of life, a good one. For an evil daimon is not to be believed, harming a noble life or to bear spite; for good is every god. But those whose ways are already evil, much complication made into their lives, accuse a daimon and him call such, themselves evil become.5

5 F.H. Sandbach, Menandri Reliquiae Selectae (Oxford, 1972) 714 (550–551 Körte) 321; A.W.

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

87

The characteristic tendency of educated Greeks to allegorize away evil daimones can be seen in Menander’s virtual equation of the evil daimon with the character of the victim himself, in a highly moralistic way, and Plutarch’s reduction of it into a tyche-daimon depriving it of moral overtones. The theme of the mutability of tyche runs through many Lives, and is usually disconnected from the idea of providence working through tyche. As Dillon suggests, Plutarch may have been influenced by Plato’s Laws 709b: “God controls all that is, and fortune (tyche) and opportunity (kairos) cooperate with God in the control of all human affairs.”6 Generally the mutability of tyche is part of the human condition, though at other times hints are given that this is working under a higher cause. Plutarch puts a statement into the mouth of Lamprias in Quaest. conv. 740d, “virtue obeys no master, but tyche predetermines many things in our life by reason of the various forms of education and society which different groups enjoy,” a statement which is much more optimistic than what we often find in the Lives. Particularly touching is the Life of Pompey, where toward the middle (46) Plutarch comments that if Pompey had died then, he would have had the reputation of Alexander, at whose age he now was, but after this time his eutychiai (strokes of good luck) only made others envious and his dystychiai (strokes of bad luck) were irreversible. In 74, 75, and 76 we have an extremely sympathetic treatment of Pompey in discussions with his young wife Cornelia. She believes that her “heavy daimon” has destroyed Pompey as it did Publius, the son of Crassus, who was her first husband and perished on the Parthian campaign. He reassures her with advice on the mutability of tyche, and the hope that being so bad it can only get better. But when he complains about providence to Kratippos the philosopher at Mytilene, Plutarch suggests that Kratippos should have asked him if he would have used his tyche better than Caesar had he been the victor. Plutarch adds that Kratippos might have pointed out that the condition of the Republic demanded monarchia (one man rule), something we have seen in the Brutus.7 Gomme & F.H. Sandbach, Menander. A Commentary (Oxford, 1973) 378. Sandbach notes Herakleitos, b119 d-k; ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων, and [Epicharmos] fr. 258 Kaibel: ὁ τρόπος ἀνθρώποισι δαίμων ἀγαθός, οἷς δὲ καὶ κακός. Sandbach notes that μυσταγωγός was by Cicero’s time used for guides at temples (Cicero, Vert. 4.132) and Strabo even uses it for a man who took him around Arsinoe. 6 The explanation of Lamprias in Quaest. conv. 9 (740c) is somewhat complicated: “[according to Plato] heimarmene [fate] interweaves with tyche, while that ἐφ’ ὑμῖν [that within our control (Loeb: our free will)] combines with one or the other of them, or with both simultaneously.” Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 209. 7 Kratippos was a Peripatetic philosopher of Pergamon whose distinction seems to have out-

88

part 1, chapter 7

This tendency to subordinate tyche to providence is evident in other Lives such as the Brutus. Throughout the account of the battle of Philippi (37–51) we are reminded of the role of tyche. Particularly significant is tyche keeping back knowledge of Brutus’ naval victory, which would surely have caused him to delay battle, and in Plutarch’s eyes, win the war. In 47 he writes that tyche kept back the knowledge, but monarchia was necessary, and Brutus the only obstacle. In 55 (the syncrisis or comparison made at the end of most sets of Lives) he asserts that Caesar was a good and gentle physician sent by the daimon to cure the ills of the state. Here we are on ground similar to the Pompey. In Lives such as Marius, Antony, and Crassus, we find a similar reflection on tyche, but the tyche theme has been subordinated to the ultimate ruin brought upon one by vice. This is particularly true in Marius and Antony. In the first, after revealing the upswing of his tyche, fall, and rise again, we find a rather long digression on the mutability of tyche, which Flacelière and Babut would like to attribute to one of his sources, Poseidonios, though it reflects the sentiments of Plutarch’s own De tranquilitate. Here Marius is contrasted with Plato and the Stoic Antipater of Tarsos, who praised their daimon and tyche to the end; for Marius was constantly dissatisfied, in spite of his many successes and consulships, and while lamenting what was incurable, throwing away the present good.8 Antony’s tyche in 17, 20, 30, and 31 only serves to make him unbearable and feed the fires of his depraved passions. At 33, reworking

paced his originality. Cicero gave him Roman citizenship and put his son under his charge, apparently not with the best of results (De off. 1.1, 3.2; Brut. 250). C. Schneider, Kulturgeschichte des Hellenismus i (Munich, 1967) 964, sees him as an important link between Hellenistic culture and Roman education. See also K. Büchner, Cicero. Bestand und Wandel seiner geistigen Welt (Heidelberg, 1964) 432. Plutarch also mentions him in Cic. 24 and Brut. 24. 8 Antipater of Tarsos is mentioned by Plutarch in De tranq. an. 469de. The passage may have been influenced by Poseidonios of Apameia, cited here for the disease and death of Marius. He was in Rome at the time of Marius’ death, and his history, continuing that of Polybios, was used by Plutarch. For his influence on Plutarch see Babut, Plutarque et le stoïcisme, 20 and 216–218, and on the passage, Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, vi, 154. For his influence at Rome, see G. Verbeke, “Le stoïcisme: une philosophie sans frontiers,” anrw i.4 (1975) 3–42. For attitudes toward Marius, see T.F. Carney, “The Changing Picture of Marius in Ancient Literature,” paca 10 (1967) 5–22. B. Scardigli, “Echi di atteggiamenti pro e contro Mario in Plutarco,” cs 14 (1977) 185–253, argues that Plutarch had at his disposal a large number of contemporary sources on Marius, but preferred critical ones, organizing these tightly in a schematic way. E. Valgiglio, “L’autobiografia di Silla nelle biografie di Plutarco,” Stud. Urb. 49 (1975) 245–281, examining parallel passages in the Marius, felt that Plutarch drew much of the Sulla from the hero’s Memoirs.

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

89

an incident which appears in De fortuna Romanorum, Plutarch has a seer tell him to avoid Octavius; for his daimon and tyche cowers before that of his rival (proved by games of chance). In 70 he resigns himself to the life of the “heavydaimoned” (βαρυδαίμων) Timon the misanthrope, at Pharos. In death he begs Kleopatra not to lament the last reversals of his tyche, but to remember that he was once the most illustrious of men. However, this picture is balanced by the numerous censures on his vice, and the erotic captivation of his soul by Kleopatra. On the night of the battle of Carrhae, Plutarch comments on Crassus, crouching on the ground with his robe pulled over his head, that some might think he was victim of an unjust tyche, but in reality he was a victim of his own foolish ambition. But elsewhere in the Life he comments on the invincibility of Roman tyche, and in the syncrisis expresses his amazement that even Crassus could destroy the Roman eutychia. Timoleon, a companion to Aemilius, is something of a puzzle. The principal source for Timoleon was most likely the historian, Timaios of Tauromenion, and naturally the mysterious Poseidonios has been suggested for Aemilius.9 In Nilsson’s treatment of Timoleon, in his chapter “Tyche and Daimon,” these forces play a considerable role in Timoleon’s life. A number of rather trivial fortuitous events are related in the Life, but on the occasion of a chance escape from assassination in 16, a rather long disquisition is put into the mouths of the “bystanders.” Supposedly the daimon protected Timoleon from assassination (the assassin was struck down by a personal enemy just at the moment of the attempt). This daimon is identified with the tyche “which directs all things, using the most apparently disparate elements to achieve its designs and bringing them together in a way incomprehensible to the observer until it has been accomplished.” This seems to represent a genuine Hellenistic approach toward tyche, which Plutarch has not tampered with. Tyche, a rather teleological force, described in terms applicable to providence, directs events mysteriously to a given end. This is really different from the view reflected elsewhere in Plutarch in which tyche is subordinated to providence or God, where a plethora of fortuitous events reveals not that the world is ruled by chance but rather that we have here a sure sign of the divine hand.

9 The use of Timaios as a source for the Life and the religious beliefs of Timaios himself are hotly debated by modern scholars. M.J. Fontana, “Fortuna di Timoleonte. Rassegna delle fonti letterare,”Kokalos 4 (1958) 3–23, felt Timaios was responsible for Plutarch’s picture of the hero. Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies vi, 3–15, believes in strong influence from Timaios but with tyche synonymous with providence.

90

part 1, chapter 7

Some attempt was made to parallel the ideological treatment of Timoleon in Aemilius. Here Plutarch concentrates on the mutability of tyche, and the instability of human affairs, in which good is always intermingled with evil. The major passage on the mutability of tyche, conceived here apparently as a blind force, is in the fall of Perseus (Aemilius 27). Here the passage seems to be following Polybios closely,10 which had alluded to Demetrios of Phaleron’s book on tyche. Demetrios, lauding the power of tyche had shown amazement at the speedy collapse of the Persian Empire and suggested that the Macedonian might also fall, something Polybios took as a divinely inspired prophecy, in his account at this point. In De fortuna Romanorum (318b) Plutarch had spoken of the tearless victory of Aemilius over Perseus, but in the Life—where his words closely parallel those of Livy—Aemilius’ sons are struck down in the moment of his triumph, and Aemilius himself reflects on the mutability of tyche and of nemesis which demanded some share in the triumph. J. Geiger convincingly argues that Plutarch had no special interest in Timoleon and, contrary to one’s initial impression, he did not commence with Timoleon, look for a specious connection, and then fictitiously add fortuna devotion to Aemilius Paullus, the parallel.11 Rather finding Aemilius noted for devotion to fortuna, in Roman authors, he actually made this the basis of the comparison, and included Timoleon-Aemilius Paullus in the series at a relatively late date. However, in this connection one should also note the importance of Hellenistic historiography on both Lives. The Life of Sulla is also filled with tyche, but once again Plutarch is heavily swayed by his sources. He continually comments on Sulla’s tyche, but much of this undoubtedly came from Sulla’s memoirs (Commentarii), even if Plutarch does not specifically mention his source. Sulla calls himself a child of tyche, names his children Felix and Fausta, and believes his greatest successes were those where he acted on the spur of the moment. His tyche follows him to the end, even in assuring that his funeral pyre disappears in a blaze of glory. Plutarch probably misunderstood Sulla’s conception of his fortuna. It was a puzzle to the ancients, as much as to modern scholars. The Greek title he gave himself, corresponding to Felix, was Epaphroditos (close to Aphrodite), and it seems that he identified Venus with Tyche as a symbol of the favor of the gods. For Sulla, then, tyche would be a symbol of the grace of the gods, which had singled him out and offered him constant protection. In a rather long passage on his tyche (6) Plutarch contrasts him with Timotheos of Athens who no

10 11

Polybios 29.21 = Diodoros 31.10 [fgh 228.39]. J. Geiger, “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives,” here 99–104.

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

91

longer had any successes after he denied that his victories were due to tyche. Since Plutarch uses the Timotheos incident elsewhere, though in a somewhat different way, the suspicion is that Plutarch rather than Sulla was responsible for the comparison.12 Caesar’s murder, which should belong to the to daimonion type of retribution as it appears in Hellenistic historians, the result of a series of chance events which reveals a supernatural force demanding vengeance, becomes in Plutarch (Caesar 66) an anti-tyche happening. First the unheeded warnings of Calpurnia (Caesar’s wife), a soothsayer, and the philosopher Artemidoros are classified, through what seems total illogicality, possible acts of to automaton. But Caesar’s position under the statue of Pompey in his “theater,” the most likely candidate for to automaton, is not even listed as the work of to daimonion, or even the daimon (that is, the divinity), but of some daimon directing events so the murder would happen there. Invoking the principle of over-determination Plutarch has the Epicurean Cassius stoop so low as to invoke the statue, presumably the

12

Latte, Römische Religionsgeschichte, 187–188 and 279–280, saw Sulla’s tyche as a divine force emanating from within him and expressing the guidance of the divine powers: Venus, the symbol of divine favor would be related to tyche ( fortuna) in war. He sees the Hellenistic goddess Tyche as important to this development. Besides the Venus of Pompeii, represented in the guise of the Tyche of Antioch type, Sulla erected a statue of the Artemis type (the Aphrodite of Aphrodisias) (cf. Herzog-Hauser, re vii a, 2 [1948] 1686). With only one exception Tyche does not appear in Attic vases, but in the exception, she is in the company of Aphrodite (thus Epaphroditos?) (see G. Körte, “Eichelförmige Lekythos mit Goldschmuck aus Attika,” Archäologische Zeitung 37 [1879] 93–96, here 95), and Apelles had painted a picture of Tyche accompanying Aphrodite (Herzog-Hauser, 1688). Perhaps even his “Bellona, Ma, Selene” goddess brought back from the Orient could be associated with tyche through the Artemis connection. Plutarch comments elsewhere on Timotheos: Reg. et imper. 187e, De Herod. malign. 856b (suspiciously different!). W.H. Friederich, “Caesar und sein Glück,” in O. Hiltbrunner, H. Kornhardt, & F. Tietze (eds.), Thesaurismata (Munich, 1954) 1–24 (repr. in: idem, Dauer im Wechsel. Aufsätze von W.-H. Friederich [Göttingen, 1977] 376–388), saw Caesar’s belief in his fortuna or star (De fort. Rom. 319b–d) as a literary invention based on the influence of comparisons with Alexander and the partiality of authors writing about Pompey. H. Ericsson, “Sulla Felix. Eine Wortstudie,” Eranos 41 (1943) 77–89, shows how Plutarch misunderstood and distorted the Roman concept of fortuna, represented by Venus. See also Iiro Kajanto, “Fortuna,” anrw ii.17.1 (1981) 502–558, and J. Champeaux, Fortuna. Recherches sur le culte de la Fortune à Rome et dans le monde romain des origines à la mort de César. i Fortuna dans la religion archaïque (Rome, 1982). [en: L. Torraca, “I Presupposti teoretici e i diversi volti della Tyche Plutarchea,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 105–155; Tatum, “Another Look at Tyche in Plutarch’s Aemilius Paullus—Timoleon."]

92

part 1, chapter 7

shade of Pompey, before the Attentat. Finally, as the blood of Caesar drenches the pedestal of Pompey’s statue, we are informed that Pompey seemed to be presiding over his vengeance. In Caesar 69, however, where in Hellenistic historiography one is conditioned to expect another to daimonion event, to daimonion does not punish Brutus and Cassius, though the supernatural is evidenced again by a series of chance events and by the characteristic vice of the guilty. Rather Caesar’s “great daimon,” apparently a reference to Caesar’s tyche, becomes an avenger and is responsible for succeeding events. The proof is an obvious tyche event: Cassius slays himself with the same dagger he had used on Caesar. But suddenly our ideological perspective changes to evil meteorological phenomena, classified as among the divine events (τὰ θεῖα). This is followed by more daimonological and demonological confusion: the introduction of the evil daimon which appeared to Brutus at Abydos on his crossing from Asia to Philippi. Plutarch then notes the second visit of the daimon before the battle of Philippi, and positions it immediately before Brutus’ suicide so that it flows as a natural consequence of the appearance of the monster. This daimon seems different from Caesar’s great daimon, though by now the totally confused reader might think so, and it is not impossible. But there is no confusing this daimon with the tyche kind. Both the Caesar and Alexander are remarkably free of tyche, an approach, at least for Alexander, reflected in an apparently earlier essay on the tyche of Alexander. The evil daimon which appears to Brutus at Abydos, unlike the great daimon of Caesar, if the two are different, is operating with higher hierarchical approval: More than anything else, the apparition which appeared to Brutus showed that the murder was not pleasing to the gods. Caesar 69

But in the introduction to Dion-Brutus, Plutarch seems to have rethought the matter, partly influenced by his desire to present the hero in the best possible light and as a follower of Platonic doctrine. The daimon, then, does not serve as an agent of divine disapproval for a murder committed against the will of the gods, but as a diabolic intrusion into Brutus’ life to prevent him from obtaining eternal salvation; or, put in Plutarch’s terms, this daimon is a soul-daimon sent by the gods to oversee the affairs of men, but driven on by envy (φθόνος) and about to see Brutus saved (“receive a higher portion,” presumably the separation of nous [intelligence] from psyche [soul], the “best of transformations”), and acting illegally, had decided to frighten Brutus from the “path of moral

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

93

excellence (ἀρετή).” Thus Brutus’ evil daimon really is an evil daimon in a new sense, and will be punished with reincarnation. The introduction to Dion-Brutus presupposes, it would seem, the daimonological background of Plutarch’s dialogues touching on the subject, in particular the De facie. It seems very likely that this passage, or the Lives themselves of Dion and Brutus, were written after the Caesar, and with more reflection on the theological consequences. In any case the two parallel passages reveal the totally different biographical and theological perspectives which Plutarch could use in moving from one personage to the other, in each case concerned about presenting him in a favorable light where possible. Moreover, as Pelling notes, the Caesar seems to be conceived more in terms of historical perspective, stasis (revolution), demos (the people) and tyrannos (demagogic dictator), while the Dion-Brutus has a very moralistic perspective.13 One might add that the involvement of Dion with the school of Plato in the first Life may have influenced the introduction of corresponding philosophical discussion within a Platonic framework into the second.14 If the daimonological passages here were written after those in the Caesar, which seems very likely considering the attention given them, then we find the traditional attitude in Plutarch and other educated Greeks to do away with monstrous beings of folk superstition, substituting for them soul-daimones. A more benevolent divine world, less out of control, and the subjugation of superstition to rational theology can be seen. But at the same time the Hellenistic world of tyche, even a tyche corresponding to pronoia (providence) is undermined. The great innovation which Plutarch introduced into the Brutus has scarcely been noticed by scholars, along with the remarkable way that the concept of parallel lives affected the Brutus. Far from being pragmatike historia of Polybios, even in its moral dimension, this Life takes on an eschatological orientation, not only looking back to philosophical autobiography such as that in Empedokles’ Katharmoi, but forward to Christian hagiography. The introduction, more philosophical than historical, appears to refer to a daimonological treatise Plutarch was working on at the time. This suggests even more that he conceived of Brutus, albeit in a very timid way, as one of the soul runners or swimmers of De genio, and as a nous of De facie looking for eventual liberation from the psyche. Through Dion’s attachment to the school of Plato, whose 13 14

“Plutarch’s Method of Work,” 78. The subject is treated in R. Flacelière & É. Chambry, Plutarque. Vies, xiv (Paris, 1978) 2–17. Flacelière sees the Life as a glorification of the Platonic Academy: Dion though θεῖά τις τύχη (some divine tyche) meets Plato who brings about his conversion from a life of luxury and pleasure, inflaming him with desire for the pursuit of arete and the good (τὰ καλά) (p. 2).

94

part 1, chapter 7

name appears constantly in the opening chapters, philosophical biography has infected Dion and from there spread to Brutus. The effect is most startling and possibly was incredibly more so to an ancient reader in possession of the hostile sources in which these vile phantoms probably first appeared as avenging demons. Such is hinted at by the use of to daimonion to introduce the visions, the nature of the daimon as an Erinys in Dion, and the theme of demonic vengeance at the end of the Caesar. In a sense Plutarch, in addition to his formidable talents as a parallel biographer, may be the inventor of historicaleschatological biography. In his new vision not only did these two heroes have to survive the normal assaults on the virtuous man’s arete, but also diabolic intrusion from the other world, intending to deprive their souls of eternal salvation. Plutarch avoids conceiving of tyche as the Hellenistic goddess personifying the favoring circumstances, the eutychia, of an individual or city. Rather, he is more concerned with contrasts between arete and tyche, and prefers to see a man’s success as a combination of these factors. He is surprisingly undiscriminating in certain parts of the Life, and seems to have been taken in by Sulla’s fortuna propaganda, perhaps because he saw in Sulla a kindred soul, who believed in the power of dreams as the best form of divination, and among the Roman heroes most seemed to have a sense of destiny under the direction of the gods. But the admission of material in this way—not in style among modern historians or biographers—also helps to characterize Sulla and penetrate his psychology, leaving it up to the reader to be more critical. In Philopoimen, Phokion, Cicero and Demosthenes a rather pessimistic and fatalistic view of the Greek tyche emerges. On the occasion of the battle of the Thermodon in Demosthenes 19, Plutarch mentions that some daimonios tyche was about to extinguish the flame of Greek liberty. Citing Euripides, he feels that the Athenians lost when the gods and tyche turned against them at Syracuse (Nikias 17). The tychai of Greece render Phokion’s arete obscure (Phokion 1). Apollonios, the rhetoric teacher of Cicero, laments the tyche of Greece which permitted her eloquence to pass to Rome (Cicero 4), and Philopoimen laments the tyche which was bringing to pass the fated end of Greece (Philopoimen 17). We may contrast such statements about the tyche of Greece with those in De fortuna Romanorum where Plutarch marvels at the Roman tyche which, unlike that of the other great powers which arose in the course of history, was like a strong sea breeze, continuous and unflagging, resisting every challenge to its authority. There is no doubt that he found something divine and mysterious in the rise of the Romans to supremacy over the Mediterranean world, and that his conception of tyche in the operation of great states, and particularly in their fall, contributed to his sentiment. He accepted the Roman Empire as something

religion in the lives: daimon and tyche

95

divinely ordained for the good of mankind, a product of providence, whose power was revealed as much in the chance occurrences which determined the success of the Romans, as in the benevolent favor which determined the power of the Roman army, and the arete (virtue) of its generals.15 15

However, in Flamininus 11, after the defeat of Philip at Kynoskephalai, he has the friends of the hero, in a little disquisition which is obviously Plutarch’s own thoughts, lay the blame not on the vagaries of a callous tyche but on the eternal contentiousness of the Greeks. For Plutarch’s ideas on war and peace consult A. García Bravo, “El pensamiento de Plutarco acerca de la paz y de la guerra,” cfc 5 (1973) 141–191.

chapter 8

Omens and Portents Plutarch accepted on religious grounds the belief in portents, though as Babut and others have noted, he wished to see no infringement upon natural laws, exercised epoche (philosophical caution), and felt that only after all scientific explanations failed should one accept the miraculous. Thus, where portents are related he often tries to offer a scientific explanation. At the same time he found portents and omens most useful for his pathetic, tragic, baroque, melodramatic type of biography.1 Often like dreams they help to convey a sense of psychological disturbance. Another author might have tried to convey this by speeches put in the mouth of his characters, but Plutarch is chary of doing this. As a rule he disliked piling up portents in annalistic fashion, especially where they might be trivial. One can compare his account of the approach of Hannibal into Italy in Fabius 2 with Livy 22.1. The underlined parts are the portents used by Plutarch: 8. Augebant metum prodigia ex pluribus simul locis nuntiata; in Sicilia militibus aliquot spicula, in Sardinia autem in muro circumeunti uigilias equiti scipionem quem manu tenuerit arsisse et litora crebris ignibus fulsisse et scuta duo sanguine sudasse, 9. et milites quosdam ictos fulminibus et solis orbem minui uisum, et Praeneste ardentes lapides caelo cecidisse, et Arpis parmas in caelo uisas pugnantemque cum luna solem, et Capenae duas interdiu lunas ortas, 10. et aquas Caeretes sanguine mixtas fluxisse fontemque ipsum Herculis cruentis manasse respersum

1 [en: On portents: see J. Isager & R.S. Lorsch, Divination and Portents in the Roman World (Odense: University Press of Southern Denmark, 2000); J.C. Meyer, “Omens, Prophecies and Oracles in Ancient Decision-making,” in J.E. Skydsgaard & K. Ascani (eds.), Ancient History Matters: Studies Presented to J.E. Skydsgaard (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2002) 173–183; S.W. Rasmussen, Public Portents in Republican Rome (Rome, 2003); P. McKechnie, “Omens of the Death of Alexander the Great,” in Pat V. Wheatley & Hannah, Robert (eds.), Alexander & his Successors: Essays from the Antipodes. Essays Resulting from the Third International Conference on Alexander held at the University of Otago in Dunedin, New Zealand, in 2006 (Claremont [Calif.]: Regina Books, 2009) 206–226; C. Barat, “Miracles et apparitions: les statues voyageuses de Sinope et leur signification Politique,” in G. Hoffmann & A. Gailliot (eds.), Rituels et transgressions de l’ Antiquité à nos jours: actes du colloque (Amiens, 23–25 janvier 2008) (Amiens: Encrage, 2009) 211–222.]

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_011

omens and portents

97

maculis, et in Antiati metentibus cruentas in corbem spicas cecidisse, 11. et Faleriis caelum findi uelut magno hiatu uisum quaque patuerit ingens lumen effulsisse; sortes sua sponte attenuatas unamque excidisse ita scriptam: “Mauors telum suum concutit,” 12. et per idem tempus Romae signum Martis Appia uia ac simulacra luporum sudasse, et Capuae speciem caeli ardentis fuisse lunaeque inter imbrem cadentis. 13. Inde minoribus etiam dictu prodigiis fides habita: capras lanatas quibusdam factas, et gallinam in marem, gallum in ferminam sese uertisse.2 In spite of his regard for eclipses as scientific phenomena, he uses them with surprising frequency. This curious mentality can be seen in Perikles 6, where Anaxagoras, by dissecting the brain, explains the cause of a horn growing out of the head of a goat, but Plutarch also accepts the seer Lampon’s interpretation that it signified the one man rule of Perikles. In Nikias 23 (the eclipse before Syracuse which caused Nikias’ fatal delay) Plutarch relates how Plato was the first to subordinate scientific causes to the theological. Thus, he accepts the fact that the eclipse was a scientific phenomenon which should not have altered Nikias’ plans, but also claims that a good soothsayer would have seen that the eclipse was a good omen for their escape. In Sulla (7) some Neopythagorean speculation may have entered. According to Etruscan scholars (logioi), in the intervals between the Great Years clear signs are given out by to daimonion; during the rest of time divination falls into disfavor because of weak signs. This comes after he has enumerated, in annalistic fashion, a number of astounding portents, even if they would not startle Livy, and Plutarch’s clarification does not explain his ordinary practice in the Lives. This explanation is followed by a rather trivial Roman portent. A sparrow carrying a cicada or grasshopper (tettix) in its beak flies into the temple of Bellona where the Senate is being held. It leaves half the insect behind and flies off. Plutarch’s explanation may be offered as an excuse for the large number of portents in the Sulla, or he may have intended to reveal the mentality of the time, as well as underscoring the momentous change from Republic to Empire. On the whole the portents are used to accompany and portray the rise and fall psychologically and often morally of the hero, and in this regard are often used with striking effect. Mounting portents often signify the moral and physical end of the hero as he is devastated in soul and mind. In Marcellus 28

2 Livy, Ab urb. cond. 22.1.8–13. The passage is discussed by Rose, The Roman Questions, 16–17. Professor Sandbach believes Rose made an unnecessary fuss over σαλεύω. The use of the word to “toss” or “shake” something seems to have been popular in Plutarch’s day.

98

part 1, chapter 8

Plutarch strikingly compresses the portents of Livy 22 in order to throw the impetuosity of Marcellus’ character into relief. There is an interesting flow of one portent into another: lightning strikes a temple, a temple is entered by an animal, an animal utters human speech, and a human is born with characteristics of an animal. Naturally, as is frequent, the hero is “greatly disturbed by the portents.” In Brutus we have such things as the daimon at Abydos and before the second battle at Philippi, bees swarming and an Ethiopian hacked to pieces.3 In Tiberius Gracchus and Caesar, numerous ill-boding portents and dreams before the murder disturb the hero who hesitates, but goes to his doom. This technique sometimes involves the use of particularly disturbing or disgusting portents. Alexander is a brilliant case. Sometimes a moment of relief is given by a propitious portent,4 but the pessimistic flow is hardly interrupted. In 57, as he degenerates psychologically, particularly ugly and disturbing prodigies and portents undermine him: a lamb with a tiara and testicles growing out of its head, a favorite lion kicked to death by an ass, a mysterious stranger sitting on the royal throne, supposedly sent by the god Sarapis. A ray of hope is the discovery of “naphtha,” a grossly underappreciated portent by modern standards, but the ultimate effect of the series of portents is to turn him to drink. Ultimately he becomes the deisidaimon of De superstitione, filling the house with incensers, sacrificers, and diviners (75). As Plutarch comments, “just as disbelief in the divine is to be condemned so is deisidaimonia which like water, is always running off to a lower level” (here the text breaks off). This is quite different from what we find in Arrian (7.24, 7.30) and shows the artistic care and liberties Plutarch took to achieve a desired effect.5 3 On a visit to the site of Philippi, still untouched by modern development, the author saw bees swarming from a stone mask lying on the ground among the ruins. 4 In Alexander 2, 3, 14, 17, 26, 27, and 31, favorable portents accompany the hero on his triumphant march to fame. 5 Aristoboulos is given by Arrian (7.23) as his source for a ribbon portent, not recorded by Plutarch. This portent is similar but somewhat different in Diodoros 17.116. Aristoboulos is also the source for the man on the throne. Only Plutarch mentions his name (Dionysios). This raises interesting possibilities. Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, ix (Paris, 1975) 7–8, believes Alexander posed as Neos Dionysos to avoid retribution for Thebes. In reality, Plutarch only hints at this theme. A.D. Nock, Essays on Religion and the Ancient World i (Oxford, 1972) 134– 157, sees no contemporary evidence for Alexander equating himself with Neos Dionysos, and even finds counter-evidence. There also seems to be a link between Dionysos and Sarapis here (interpretatio Graeca). On this see J. Stambaugh, Sarapis under the Early Ptolemies (Leiden, 1972) 9–11, and W. Hornbostel, Sarapis (Leiden, 1973) 44–45. Nock, Essays, 140, places the equation Neos Dionysos = Sarapis in the 3rd cent. In Alex. 14, Plutarch attributes the death of Kleitos to Dionysos, though in 50 he attributes it to Kleitos’ evil daimon. [en: E. Suárez de la

omens and portents

99

He likes to use symbolism in which a portent is closely related to the hero because of some previous event. This is very well done in Antonius. In 24 he rides magnificently into Ephesos like Dionysos, drawn by lions and surrounded by bacchantes and satyrs—a flamboyant description matching Kleopatra’s arrival on the Knidos. Before the battle of Actium (60) the Herakleion at Patrai is destroyed by lightning and the statue of Dionysos in the Gigantomachia at Athens, the dedication of Attalos of Pergamon is swept away by the wind. (Herakles was another god he had associated himself with, as Plutarch remarks.) Finally in 75, before the battle of Alexandria, instead of the comfort of a few hours’ sleep which he desires, he hears the sounds of a mystic procession. Antony tells his slaves to fill his cup generously that night, since it was uncertain whether he would be alive the next. As his friends begin to weep, he expresses his pessimism about the future. Then late that night a Bacchic thiasos is heard with instruments, chanting, and the shouts of maenads and satyrs moving from the middle of the city to the outer gate, where it reaches its climax and dies away. Plutarch suggests that the god “whom Antony had most modeled his life on” Dionysos, was now abandoning him. This is one of the really brilliant touches in the Lives, prepared for by Antony’s magnificent entrance into Ephesos earlier where he met Kleopatra as Aphrodite. It would be very unusual if Plutarch, who wrote on Egyptian religion in the De Iside, should not be aware of the Egyptian significance of Antony’s imitation of Dionysos, and the naming of Antony and Kleopatra’s children. At 364e he suggests very strongly that Osiris is really Dionysos, though at 361e he relates Persephone to Isis. Recently the subject of Antony-DionysosOsiris, and Kleopatra-Aphrodite-Isis has received attention in an article by F. Le Corsu.6 Torre, “Dioniso y el Dionisismo en Plutarco,” in A. Pérez Jiménez, J. García López, & R. Aguilar Fernández (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 29–55.] 6 See F. Le Corsu, “Cléopatre-Isis,”bsfé 82 (1978) 22–23, and idem, Isis. Son mythe et ses mystères (Paris, 1977) 86–91. She believes that Kleopatra’s and Antony’s assimilation to Isis and Osiris (along with Aphrodite and Dionysos) led to the romantic image taken advantage of by Octavian’s propaganda. See also idem, Plutarque et les femmes dans les Vies Parallèles (Paris, 1981); on Kleopatra, see 220–223. The best treatment of Antony’s and Kleopatra’s relationship to Dionysos and Aphrodite, and to a lesser extent Osiris and Isis, can be found in P.M. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria (Oxford, 1972). Where he does not treat certain points explicitly, the reader can deduce for himself what Antony’s and Kleopatra’s relationship to the ideology and ritual of these gods must have been, e.g.: Dionysos-Osiris, 192, 202, 206, 211, 497; the pompe at Alexandria, 231–232; Ptolemaic descent from Dionysos, 44–45, 202–203; Antony as Dionysos, 205; on the possible temple built for him by Kleopatra, 24; royal support for the cult of Aphrodite, 238–240; association of Aphrodite with Isis, 671–672; and Kleopatra as

100

part 1, chapter 8

Portents are used with reserve and with significance for the hero. In Marius 8 good sacrifices encourage the hero to strive for the consulship. In 36, while fleeing from Sulla’s cavalry, he is buoyed up by the recollection of a portent during his youth, the discovery of a nest with seven eagles, interpreted to mean he would have seven consulships. In 39 an ass seeking water indicates flight by sea. Finally, in 45 evil portents and nightmares undermine him psychologically as Sulla advances. The suspicion is that Plutarch took the portent of the eagles from Marius’ youth and transferred it to this important psychological moment. (Then he goes on to disprove the possibility of an eagle laying seven eggs.) Sometimes he seems to relate a portent out of ars gratia artis. Such might be in the description of the landscape near Apollonia (Sulla 27), an idyllic passage into which the ominous fire of volcanic eruption hints at evil. This is followed by the capture of a satyr bleating unintelligibly, an incident which disturbs Sulla, who feels it signifies the disbandment of his troops when he reaches Italy. His spirits are raised by an apparition of two armies (or goats, depending on one’s textual preference) fighting in the sky over Campania. The portent seems a little unnecessary, but it does indicate Sulla’s problem, his apprehension over it, and the reason for his confidence when once approaching Rome.7 A very skillful and touching use of portents comes at the end of the Cicero (48) where the externals are closely related to the inner psychological world of Cicero with his native culture and humanity grotesquely overwhelmed by barbarity and horror in a world turned upside down on itself. Near Caieta the place where Cicero is to embark, there is a temple of Apollo above the sea. Crows rise up from the temple and land on Cicero’s ship as it is being rowed to land, an event regarded as a bad omen by the spectators. Cicero, however, “New Isis,” 244–245. Plutarch was aware of the titles Neos Dionysos and Nea Isis for Antony and Kleopatra (61). He also suggests in this chapter that Antony identified himself with the kingdom of Pergamon. (His name was on the statues at Athens of Attalos and Eumenes, which were blown down.) Perhaps Kleopatra’s trip by barge on the Knidos was modeled on an Isis ritual by boat. On this see R. Merkelbach, Isisfeste in griechisch-römischer Zeit. Daten und Riten (Meisenheim, 1963), 39–41 and 45–47. Fraser, however, notes that no surviving document links Kleopatra with Isis; see i, 245, and ii, 397, note 441. 7 Actually there was nothing all that portentous about the volcanic stream; see Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies vi, 340. It was described by Ael., v.h. 13.16 and Plin., nh 2.106. Professor N.G.L. Hammond has told me that such streams are still to be found in the area. The vision at 27.8 of two goats (mss.) was corrected by Ziegler and Flacelière to “armies,” on the basis of Iul., Obs. 57 and Aug., De civ. Dei. 2.25. One wonders whether there might have been confusion in the Latin mss., between aries and acies, just as there would be between στρατοί and τράγοι. Plutarch, influenced by the satyr portent, might himself have seen a connection between a satyr and a goat portent.

omens and portents

101

goes to his villa, which is infested by crows which caw hideously and try to drag the garments from his face. The slaves then reproach themselves for standing by for their master to be murdered while wild, dumb creatures try to save him. They then put him in a litter and carry him back to the sea. This is another of Plutarch’s literary masterpieces in the manneristic style. Crows were long associated with Apollo and therefore appropriate. Not only was Apollo a great benevolent god in Augustan ideology, which may have helped to popularize the story, but Plutarch, who at the age of fifty held the highest priesthood at Delphi and was a great Delphic propagandist, would be interested in any cult of Apollo and in presenting him in the most benevolent way. Here the god tries to save the great Roman orator, himself the most prominent Phil-Hellene of his age, from the murderous hands of assassins hired by power-mad and cruel politicians and soldiers. Thus again Plutarch can intertwine the Greek and Roman worlds both within the complex of two separate lives and in the individual pages of each. The contrast between Apollo, the symbol of idealized and refined humanity and culture, and the hideous crows, who are at the same time his attribute, in the milieu of approaching murder and barbarism is a touch which causes no regret for Plutarch not restricting himself to pragmatike historia. Perhaps Augustan history with its Apollinine ideology preserved the incident of the temple. In the very short versions of Appian and Valerius Maximus this touch is not to be found.8 The temple of Apollo is mentioned by Livy (40.21.1) while reviewing portents at the time of a dispute between Perseus of Macedon and his brother, Demetrios. Plutarch may personally have seen the temple at Caieta on an Italian trip, or reviewed the topography of Cicero’s death with Roman friends, either in Italy or Greece, and might have been reminded of the temple while preparing material for his life of Aemilius Paullus. It is not impossible that his fancy made the connection between the crows and the temple of Apollo at Caieta. The inhumanity of man to man is underscored by the betrayal of Cicero by a young man he had educated, the pathetic description of the old orator trying to accept death stoically “in the pose he was most famous for, with his chin resting on his left hand, but his hair long and covered with dust and face filled with anxiety,” and the description of the hands and head cut off and nailed to the rostra “where the viewers saw not Cicero’s members but the soul of

8 Appian, Bell. Civ. 4.19, Valerius Maximus, 1.4.5. In Valerius, a crow takes the hand of a sun dial in its beak. See D. Magnino, Vita Ciceronis (Florence, 1963) 168–169; Flacelière & É. Chambry, Plutarque. Vies, xii 162–163.

102

part 1, chapter 8

Antony.” In many respects the passage contains personal touches of the author. It is in sympathy with his own “Pythagorean” animal treatises that the passage here emphasizes the humanity of animals and animality of human beings. He was intrigued by divination through birds, and by korakes (crows or ravens) in particular, referring to them in the Gryllos (989a), using them in Tiberius Gracchus before the death of the hero, and in Alexander for the march to Siwah, in contrast to the snakes used by Arrian. It is possible that he turned things around so that we have a touching expression of the sympathy of nature for an afflicted man rather than a mere ominous portent such as he may have found in his source.9 On occasion, but really very seldom, a hero ignores a portent with impunity, though some, naturally, are misunderstood. He was highly selective and, as can be seen, took rather surprising liberties with his sources. At times one gets the feeling that through them, as through dreams in Plutarch (and in Homer), the gods initiate the course of history in the strange manner of the interaction of the human and divine, which A. Lesky describes as double causality and motivation.10 9

10

On this see H. Homeyer, Die antiken Berichte über den Tod Ciceros und ihre Quellen (BadenBaden, 1964), and idem, “Ciceros Tod im Urteil der Nachwelt,” Altertum 17 (1971) 165–174. However, at a meeting of American Ancient Historians at the University of Michigan, 1971, E. Badian criticized her study as excessive Quellenkritik. Dio, 47.8, omits portents for Cicero’s death. In Appianus, Bell. civ. 4.74 the korakes try to warn the slaves that their conduct is not pleasing to the gods. In De sollertia 976c birds are praised for their ability in divination, and korakes are used as portents in Cic. 4, Alex. 27, and 73, T. Grach. 17 and Nic. 13, and appear in Pomp. 25 and Flam. 10, where he explains that the supposed omen was due to natural causes. The whole death scene has a decidedly Plutarchan touch. For an evaluation of the work on the sources for Alexander, see J.R. Hamilton, Plutarch. Alexander. A Commentary (Oxford, 1969) xlix–l. A History of Greek Literature, 249. A great many portents appear before battles and death. Here the pattern is typical for both Greek and Roman Lives. The absence of portents in Philopoimen-Flamininus, one vanquished and the other victorius, taken from the pages of Polybios, may reflect the influence of that source.

chapter 9

Dreams Toward the end of De defectu (431e–433a), Lamprias, Plutarch’s spokesman, lays the basis for the power of divination in dreams along lines of religious Platonism, but with a strong touch of Aristotelian materialism. All souls have prophetic power, which is innate, but dim and rarely manifesting itself (Plutarch speaks of “blooming” and “lighting up”) except in dreams and at the hour of death. At these times the body becomes pure (καθαρόν) and attains a temperament (κρᾶσις) through which the reasoning and reflective faculty (τὸ λογιστικὸν καὶ φρονιστικόν) becomes relaxed and released from the present environment for souls turning toward the non-rational and imaginative (τὸ ἄλογον καὶ φανταστικόν). An intelligent person with nous can be a good guesser, following probabilities, but the prophetic faculty (τὸ μαντικόν) is like a blank tablet, non-rational and non-determined in itself, but through certain sensations (πάθη), becomes receptive of impressions and presentiments without logical steps, grasping the future when most removed from that near it (432cd).1 We do not have to believe that Plutarch himself believed every detail of this theory, any more than he would have subscribed to everything in Ammonios’ speech at the end of the De E, but it would have fitted his general conceptions. Dreams in the Lives are given high value and occur, as one might expect, at momentous occasions and before death.2 Though Dodds divided dreams into 1 [en: See the volume edited A. Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World (Chicago: The Oriental Institute, 2010) and the following articles included in it: J. Jacobs, “Traces of the Omen Series Šumma Izbu in Cicero, De Divinatione,” Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation, 317–339; J. Allen, “Greek Philosophy and Signs,” in Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation of Signs, 29–42; M. Nissinen, “Prophecy and Omen Divination: Two Sides of the Same Coin,” in Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation of Signs, 341–351; see also V. Rosenberger, Divination in the Ancient World: Religious Options and the Individual (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013).] 2 On this see the extensive bibliography given in F.E. Brenk, “The Dreams of Plutarch’s Lives,” Latomus 34 (1975) 336–349. Since then, R.J. White, The Interpretation of Dreams. The Oneirocritica of Artemidorus (Park Ridge, 1975), and N. Lewis, The Interpretation of Dreams and Portents (Toronto, 1975), are available. One can also consult C.A. Meier, “The Dream in Ancient Greece and its Use in Temple Cures,” in G.E. Von Grunebaum (ed.), The Dream in Ancient Society (Los Angeles, 1966) 303–319, and G. Devereux, Dreams in Greek Tragedy. An Ethno-PsychoAnalytical Study (Berkeley, 1976). He notes, 30–31, that dreams involving auditory sensations

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_012

104

part 1, chapter 9

the symbolic, the vision or horama dream, and the oracular (chrematismos), with particular stress put upon the oracular, these divisions are not all that useful in treating the Lives, where the lines often merge and where the dreams are frequently of the anxiety type. Notably absent is the healing dream.3 About 53 dreams occur.4 In general they need little interpretation, though no dream is a straightforward vision of the future. The oracular dream is very common, though it looks more Greek than Roman, since it is restricted to Greek Lives or to Romans when on Oriental soil, with only a few exceptions and where the source may be a Greek author. As with portents, dreams are closely related to the aims of what one might call ancient psychological biography and are particularly apt for relating anxiety. But the heroes do get encouragement also, particularly through the oracular dream. Pure mysterious voices are a little ominous: to Agesilaus to sacrifice his daughter at Aulis (Agesilaus 6), to a Spartan that one chair should replace the four of the ephors (Kleomenes 7), and to Marius to beware the arrival of Sulla (in dactylic hexameter [Marius 45]). But a number of distinguished per-

are extremely rare, and that in clinical practice dreams which involve articulate speech are practically non-existent. He believes that dreams in Greek drama became more psychologically plausible, though less so in the latest plays of Euripides. [en: On dreams see now, in general: J. Bilbija, The Dream in Antiquity: Aspects and Analyses (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, 2012); J. Harrison, Dreams and Dreaming in the Roman Empire: Cultural Memory and Imagination (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013); B. Ten Berge, “Dreams in Cicero’s De divinatione: philosophical tradition and education,” arg 15 (2013) 53–66. Dreams in Plutarch: C.B.R. Pelling, “Tragical Dreamer: Some Dreams in the Roman Historians,” Greece and Rome 44 (1997) 197–213; G. Roskam, “A Παιδεία for the Ruler: Plutarch’s Dream of Collaboration between Philosopher and Ruler,” in Stadter & van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor, 175– 189; A. Giardina, “Μῆτιω in Rome: A Greek Dream of Sulla,” in T. Corey Brennan & Harriet I. Flower (eds.), East & West. Papers Presented to Glen W. Bowersock, Papers in Ancient History Presented to Glen W. Bowersock (Harvard: University Department of the Classics, 2009) 61– 111; C.J. King, “Plutarch, Alexander, and dream divination” ics 38 (2013) 81–111; Pelling, “‘With thousand such enchanting dreams’ ”.] 3 Most helpful is E.R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley, 1951) 102–134; and idem, Pagan and Christian in an Age of Anxiety (Cambridge, 1964) 40–46, though like much else in the two books, one must be careful in accepting generalizations. The weakness is his underestimation of the importance of the anxiety dreams. 4 Greek Lives: Ages. 6; Alk. 39 (with an alternate); Alex. 2 (2 dreams); 3; 18; 24; 26; 50; Arist. 11; 19; Demet. 4;19; 29; Dem. 29; Eum. 6; Kim. 18; Kleom. 7; Lys. 20; Pel. 21; Per. 3; 13; Pyr. 11; 29; Them. 27; 30; Timol. 8. In the Roman Lives: Ant. 16; 22; Brut. 20 (= Caes. 68); Caes. 32; 42 (= Pomp. 68); 63 (with an alternative); 68; Cic. 2 (possibly not a dream); 44; Cor. 24; G. Grach. 1; Luc. 10; 12; 23; Mar. 45; Pomp. 32; 68 (= Caes. 42); 73; Rom. 2; Sul. 9; 28; 37.

dreams

105

sons appear: Hestia in Romulus 2; Athena in Lucullus 10 and in Pericles 13 (the only healing dream); Persephone and Aphrodite in Lucullus 12; Autolykos the founder of Sinope in Lucullus 23; Zeus Soter in Aristeides 11; Kybele in Themistokles 30; Alexander in Pyrrhos 11, Demetrios 19, and Eumenes 6; Persephone and Demeter in Timoleon 8; Zeus Ammon in Lysander 20 (though not accepted as true by Plutarch); Jupiter in Coriolanus 24; and an Eastern goddess described as Selene, Athena, and Enyo in Sulla 9. However, only two humans, if we can except Alexander, appear: the young Sulla, recently dead, to his father (Sulla 37) and Pompey to a Roman pilot (Pompey 73). Two dreams, those in Aristeides 19 and Lucullus 12, take place in sacred precincts. Plutarch was very much interested in depicting anxiety. Something of this could be seen in Sulla’s reaction to the satyr captured at Apollonia before his crossing to Italy. There a portent was at stake, and in general it may be said that portents and dreams serve similar functions in the Lives. However, Plutarch seems to have preferred dreams, and they do offer greater scope for laying bare a troubled mind. In Demetrios 19 we have an almost humorous running dream in which the eighty-year-old Demetrios collapses at the finish line, thus signifying the fruitlessness of his coming attempt on Cyprus. Another brilliant dream is in Pompey 32, before his attack on Mithridates. A number of surrealistic touches, common to anxiety dreams, appear but molded very appropriately to fit the character of the king: the Euphrates as the dream setting; the midnight hour at which Pompey is to prevent the wily king from escaping once more; the relaxed dream scene of himself sailing gaily down the Black Sea, chatting with his fellow-passengers, the Bosporos in sight and thinking himself safe and sound, suddenly alone clinging to a piece of wreckage. At this moment, “still dreaming and feeling the effects of his dream,” his friends wake him to announce Pompey’s attack. Choice left behind him, he leads out his troops to defend his camp. The brevity with which the dream is related and the compactness of detail add to the disjointed effect intended. Several of these anxiety dreams take place before death. In Caesar 68 Plutarch relates the dream of the poet, Helvetius Cinna—apparently without grasping his significance in Roman literature—who dreams that Caesar invited him to dinner and when he refused, led him unwillingly by the hand. In Brutus 20 the version is a little more elaborate: he is led into a “limitless dark place, where he follows unwillingly and stunned” (εἰς ἀχανῆ τόπον καὶ σκοτεινόν, αὐτὸν δ’ἄκοντα καὶ τεθαμβημένον ἕπεσθαι) an expression recalling the eschatology of Parmenides.5 The next day, while attempting to pay his respects to the dead Caesar, he is mistaken for Cinna the conspirator and hacked to death. 5 Plutarch’s language here seems to reflect Parmenides b1.18, where the philosopher is led on his

106

part 1, chapter 9

Alkibiades dreams he is dressed in the clothes of his mistress Timandra, daughter of the famous Lais of Corinth, who holds his head in her arms, “whitening and painting his face as though it were a women’s.” In another version offered he sees the Persians cutting off his head and his body burning (Alkibiades 39). His death roughly corresponds to the dreams; for he rushes out of a burning house and is killed by his enemies, while Timandra covers his body with her robe. It is difficult to determine what to make of the sexual reversal, though it certainly indicates helplessness and disturbance. The details are genuinely convincing as far as real dreaming is concerned. Calpurnia holds the dead Caesar in her arms and the pediment of his house falls to the ground in Caesar 63 before his death. Demosthenes dreams that his delivery will assure him victory in a tragic contest, but his enemy Archias, who will soon cause his execution, wins the prize with his stage arrangements (Demosthenes 29). Alexander dreams of Kleitos and his sons, dead and in black, before he murders Kleitos (Alexander 50), a dream similar to that of Calpurnia in Caesar and that of Alkibiades. At times the dreams offer psychological motivation. For example, Brutus and Cassius leave Rome after Cinna’s dream and murder, and Antony leaves Octavius after a dream of lightning striking his hand (Antonius 16). At other times, such as in Timoleon 8 or Sulla 9, an encouraging dream motivates the hero. One of Plutarch’s most splendid passages in the Lives is that of Caesar at the Rubicon (Caesar 32). It differs remarkably from that of Suetonius (Caesar 32). Plutarch seems to have been guided by Asinius Pollio as his ultimate source, but where Pollio probably emphasized Caesar’s decisiveness, Plutarch emphasizes his ruthlessness. The greatness of the moment, Caesar’s indecision, reflection, and consultation with friends is all heightened by the language used. He is compared to a ruthless or reckless gambler, who abandoning all caution utters “Let the die be cast” (ἀνερρίφθω κύβος). Then we are told that the night

mystic voyage to the world beyond. The dream may have come from L. Crassicus of Tarentum, surnamed Pasicles, a freedman who was active in the theatre and wrote a commentary on Cinna’s Zmyrna. Plutarch seems unaware of Cinna’s place in Roman literature. On this see J. Granarolo, “L’ époque néotérique ou la poésie romaine d’avant-garde au dernier siècle de la République,” anrw i.3 (1973) 278–360 (299–302). C.B.R. Pelling, “Notes on Plutarch’s Caesar,” Rh. M. 127 (1984) 33–45, defends the text in Caesar 42, with Ziegler and Garzetti, against Flacelière and others who see a lacuna here (which would have contained the material on Caesar’s descent from Venus, as in the parallel passage in Pompey 68). Pelling’s argument rests on the severe abbreviation in the chapter and Plutarch’s lack of interest in divine geneology in the Life (44–45). On Pompey’s dream about decorating the statue of Venus in his theatre, see Brenk, In Mist Apparelled, 225.

dreams

107

before crossing he dreamt the unlawful dream, that he was sleeping with his own mother.6 He thus suggests Caesar’s willingness, if that were necessary, to rape his own mother to achieve his ends. Suetonius (7) had put the dream in Spain during Caesar’s quaestorship where it indicated future mastery over his country. Plutarch may have found the dream, in his sources, occurring at the Rubicon, but judging by other accounts this seems doubtful. The dream came to Hippias before Marathon in Herodotos 6.107 where the tyrant, taking the dream to indicate his restoration at Athens, is frustrated in his hopes and dies shortly after. There is then a hint of murder and the ultimate fruitlessness of Caesar’s ambition. The dream at the Rubicon deserves attention as part of compositional technique. At first one might suspect that Alexander’s crossing of the Granikos in the parallel Life has influenced the Caesar, giving the Rubicon a significance it did not have before Plutarch. However, both in tone and in ideology, the comparable passages have little in common.7 At best Alexander needs a little tolme (daring) to conquer the physical aspects of the river. Caesar’s role is primarily the psychological conquest of his own restraints and fears, set in the gloomy framework of irrationality overcoming cautious prudence and respect for law. In Suetonius (Caesar 32–33) the crossing of the Rubicon is like that in a fresco,

6 The dream of sleeping with one’s mother was more than amply discussed by Artemidoros, Oniroc. 1. 79, where innumerable variations on it are given. Under four different conditions, it could indicate death for the dreamer. See White, The Interpretation of Dreams, 61 and 64. Soph. o.t. 981–982, and Paus. 4.26.3, also refer to it. See Dodds, Greeks, 47 and 61–62. Devereux, Dreams in Greek Tragedy, xxii, doubts whether Greeks and Romans ever had flagrant incest dreams involving a parent, something which he has never come across in his practice. 7 The most important recent studies on Plutarchan sources and his manner of composition are those by Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method,” 74–96; idem, “Plutarch’s Adaptation of His Source Material,” jhs 100 (1980) 127–140. He discusses the problem of the relationship of the Brutus to the Caesar, in general seeming to support the composition of the two Lives at relatively the same time, and collecting material for them simultaneously. On the difficult problems of the assassination in the two Lives see “Plutarch’s Method,” 78–79. Pelling reviewed B. Scardigli, Die Römerbiographien Plutarchs (1979), in jrs 72 (1982) 216–217. This is an indispensable work of enormous labor in not only collecting the sources but in citing references to all critical comment on them. However, Pelling criticizes her for “too Quellenforschung an approach,” ignoring more recent theory on Plutarch’s use of sources. On this see the section on Plutarch’s use of sources and mode of remembering in Frost, Plutarch’s Themistocles, 40–59. On the incident at the Rubicon, see A. Garretti, Plutarchi Vita Caesaris (Florence, 1954) 106–107; E. Hohl, “Cäsar am Rubico,”Hermes 80 (1952) 246–249; E. Häussler, “Keine griechische Version der Historien Pollios,” Rh. M. 109 (1966) 339–355; H. Glaesener, “Un mot historique de César,” ac 22 (1953) 103–105.

108

part 1, chapter 9

the glorious crossing of the army led by a breathtakingly handsome male figure, a supernatural vision (ostentum) who seizes a trumpet to begin the passage. A closer parallel to the Life is Lucan’s description (Pharsalia 1.183–203) where out of the darkness a huge Vergilian vision of Roma distraught, with unkempt white hair, bare arms, a sad face, and groans, appears, to challenge the legitimacy of his act. At first sight the influence of Lucan upon Plutarch may seem improbable, judging by his abysmal ignorance of Latin poetry.8 However, a line from De genio (590f) describes “the cries of thousands upon thousands of living beings, the wailing of babes, and the mingled sighs of men and women” (καὶ στεναγμοὺς ζῴων μυρίων δὲ κλαυθμὸν βρεφῶν καὶ μεμιγμένους ἀνδρῶν καὶ γυναικῶν ὀδυρμούς …). A Roman could hardly help escape a feeling of déjà vu, especially at the phrase μυρίων δὲ κλαυθμὸν βρεφῶν, recalling some lines of Vergil, Continuo auditae uoces uagitus et ingens /infantumque animae flentes, in limine primo … (Aeneid 6.426–427). (“At once are heard voices and great wailing, the souls of infants weeping on the very threshold …”), unless this was a Hellenistic commonplace, for which there is no evidence. Roman friends of Plutarch may have informed him of similar passages in Roman authors as he was working on his own compositions. Plutarch’s Aeschylean Caesar is faced with an ambiguous dream, but one interpreted by Plutarch as suggesting daring in the face of illegality. As so often in Plutarch, the dream contributes to the collapse of rational behavior through psychological disturbance, in this case leading to the daring of a gambler. Each step toward the Rubicon is one if not of illegality, at least of extreme daring. He halts in his tracks, checked by the magnitude of his own tolme (daring), contemplating the suffering he would inflict on the human race and the fame (logos) they would leave behind. At this point, “like men embarking on tychai (actions requiring luck) without exit and acts of daring (tolmai)” he utters the expression which has rung through history, “Let the die be cast” (ἀνερρίφθω κύβος).9 Whatever the expression meant in other authors, as Gelzer suggests through his translation “Hoch fliege der Würfel!” (“Let’s give it a fling!”), Plutarch seems

8 For Plutarch’s knowledge of Latin literature see Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method,” 88–89. For the effect of parallelization on the Lives, one can consult the excellent study of Geiger, “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives,” 85–104, but this is primarily from an historical rather than literary perspective. 9 The saying, not in Caesar’s own writings, is different in Appianus, Bell. civ. 2.35 (140), Zonaras, Histories 10.7, and Ps. Plutarch, Reg. et Imper. Apophth. 206c. The exact expression (judging by Suetonius’ “decretum est. iacta alea est,” changed by Erasmus to “iacta alea sit,”) appears in Menander, fr. 59 (Körte and Sandbach; Sandbach, Menandri Reliquiae, 303), and is discussed in Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 690–691, with bibliography. The Menandrean passage refers to the risk of marriage, “which is worse than going out to sea!”.

dreams

109

to be referring to the future not the immediate past act of the decision.10 The expression ἀναρρίψαι alone or with κύβος in Plutarch invariably refers to a battle in the future (Caesar 40; Pompey 84; Brutus 40; Aratos 5; Dion 54; Demosthenes 20; Fabius Maximus 14), where the enterprise results in disaster or becomes extremely dangerous. The expression does not signify Caesar’s ability to make a difficult decision and to stand with it, so much as risk, daring, and abandonment of all else in an enterprise of chance.11 Even the ἀνερρίφθω κύβος may owe much to Plutarch. It is much at home in his Lives, where similar expressions occur, and he had even written an essay on life as a game of dice, Περὶ βίων, ἐν ἄλλῳ δὲ Περὶ τοῦ τὸν βίον ἐοικέναι κυβείᾳ (On Lives or How Life Is Like a Game of Dice).12 We must conclude that the passage is a highly artistic creation of ancient biography, where Plutarch’s personality has deeply impressed itself.13 10

11

12 13

Sandbach interprets the saying as referring to the past decision. However, according to L.A. Post, “Dramatic Uses of the Greek Imperative,” ajp 59 (1938) 30–59, the present and perfect imperative indicate solemnity, majesty, and destiny and are not necessarily linked to aspect. M. Gelzer, Caesar. Politician and Statesman (Oxford, 1968), 193, note 3 (original: Caesar. Der Politiker und Staatsmann [Wiesbaden, 6th ed., 1960] 176, note 399). For the improvement in quality effected by Plutarch’s change to Asinius Pollio as a major source for the Roman Lives, see Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method,” 74–96, esp. 84–85. In Plutarch, the hero turns to Pollio before making his decision. The text at 46.2 relates that “Caesar uttered the phrase in Latin, but Pollio has written it in Greek.” This sentence has been changed by most scholars into “uttered in Greek, but written in Latin.” But possibly the text is right. If so, Pollio added the Greek original to his Latin text, slightly mistranslating it. Thus, Plutarch can certify that he is closely following his source. Lamprias catalogue, 105. On this see Hohl, “Cäsar am Rubico,” 246–249. Scholars do not seem to be quite agreed on the exact meaning of the expression which appears here, and probably goes back to Pollio (see above note 11). The saying is first found in Menander, Arrephoros, fr. 59 (see above page 108, note 9); cf. Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 690–691, who see it as something emphasizing the decision, and Gelzer, Caesar, 193, note 3, who takes it to emphasize the risk. See also J. Taillardat, “Comica,” reg 64 (1951) 4–9. Plutarch seems to want the expression to parallel the tone of the dream. This tone of daring appears in ἀναρρίψαι used with μάχην (battle) in Caes. 40, with κύβος (dice) in Brut. 40 and Pomp. 74; Nik. 11; Demos. 20; Brut. 54; and in Arat. 4 with κίνδυνος (danger). All but the Nikias passage involve famous battles, and all but the Nikias use the aorist. The likelihood is that the perfect is meant to emphasize the action; see Post, “Dramatic Uses,” 30–59. Sandbach explains the use of the perfect here as ordering the acceptance of what has been done, and refers to its documentation in M.M. Kokolakis volume on the morphology of the dicing simile, Μορφολογία τῆς Κυβευτικῆς Μεταφορᾶς (Athens, 1965), 5–41. I am grateful to Professor E.N. O’Neil for helping to locate the passages in Plutarch. Neither Taillardat nor Sandbach think Caesar was consciously quoting Menander.

chapter 10

Divine Retribution Plutarch’s De sera is devoted to the proposition that crime does not pay. The culprit has little escape.1 If not punished in this life in a proper manner, he will at least suffer from a guilty conscience; if not, he will find his children punished for him, or be justly compensated by infernal torments. At 567e the children of the evildoer fly at his soul, which tries to hide. The souls are descendants of Homer’s shades, who gibber like bats, but in the necessary course of evolution have developed new psychological motivation. They gibber shrilly in memory of what they have suffered through the fault of the ancestor, and unlike Homer’s shades they cling and swarm like bees or bats in an attempt to punish the guilty one. Here Plutarch, like Vergil, seems to merge Homeric and Hellenistic Nekyia (Underworld) images, retaining the passivity and pathetic helplessness of the Homeric shades. He motivates them, too, with the grotesque and pathetic desire to obtain their revenge in the energetic manner of fearsome creatures appropriate to the horror of the inferno. Such manneristic touches deserve comparison with Vergil, who in general is quite removed from Plutarch’s eschatology. Plutarch seems never to mention the great Latin poets, or understand their work, but it would be incredible if his Roman friends in Achaia never discussed with him at least in a rough way the masterpiece of Vergil, as Plutarch poured over touches to complement his own eschatological scenes. “The mills of the gods grind slow but fine” (ὀψὲ θεῶν ἀλέουσι μύλοι, ἀλέουσι δὲ λεπτά). He was really not all that sure about punishment after death. In De sera 554a–555c, An vitiositas 498d, 500a, and Non posse 1102e, he argues that vice is its own punishment and divine intervention need only be taken symbolically. In Non posse, his spokesman, Theon, argues against the Epicureans that to theion (the divine) is not prey to feelings of anger and favor, rather its nature is to bestow favor and lend aid, not to be angry and do harm; real punishment is separation “from the delight and pleasure of the relationship to the divine” (1102f–1103e). But he thinks the masses should not be illuminated, since the fear of God may keep them from evil.2

1 The introduction to De Lacy & Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii, 170–179, gives an interesting summary of the effect of the essay on European intellectual history. 2 Non Posse is probably datable to ca. 99 ad through the dedication to L. Herennius Saturni-

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_013

divine retribution

111

Plutarch introduced the retribution theme everywhere. One can find it in De exilio (601ab), in the story of Timokleia in Mulierum virtutes (260bc), in the closing of Amatorius where Gamma of Galatia lures her husband’s murderer to his death (768b–d). For putting the pregnant Empona to death poor Vespasian shortly after saw all his family extinguished (though he died peacefully and it took Domitian twenty years after this to die, 770d–771d). There are innumerable examples in the Lives, and some of them reappear in De sera, with a more single-minded devotion to retribution. Thus the punishment of Timoleon’s mercenaries, who sacked Delphi (Timoleon 30, De sera 552f) and the punishment of Kallippos, the murderer of Dion (Dion 58, De sera 553bc) find slightly different expression. In the Lives both incidents are associated with tyche.3 In the essay, where tyche is opposed to the idea of divine punishment, no word is heard of it. The death of Pausanias (for mistakenly killing a girl in the dark of his tent after he “persuaded” her father to offer her services) appears much more clearly as retribution in De sera 555c than in Kimon 6. One might be surprised to learn from De sera 553bc of the hereditary guilt of Perikles and Pompey. We have seen how the death of Caesar before the pedestal of the statue of Pompey in the portico of his own theatre was underscored by every possible means as retribution from to daimonion (the supernatural) for the murder of Pompey.4 Plutarch seems gratuitously to insert into the final chapter of Alkibiades an alternate version in which the hero is slain by the brothers of a girl he had raped (Alkibiades 39). The Silver Shields who betrayed Eumenes receive their grim reward (Eumenes 19), as does Alexander, the murderer of Pelopidas. nus, proconsul of Achaia in 98–99 ad (1107d, pir 2.h.126). See Ziegler, Plutarchos, 126, and C.P. Jones, Chronology, 72. Jones is, however, not convinced it was written during Saturninus’ consulship. [en: Extra bibliography in L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Religious and Philosophical Context of Late Antiquity,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 137–150.] 3 [en: T.J. Saunders, “Plutarch’s De sera numinis vindicta in the tradition of Greek penology” in O. Diliberto (ed), Il problema della pena criminale fra filosofia greca e diritto romano (Actes du deuxième colloque de philosophie penale, Cagliari, 20–22 Aprile 1989) (Naples, 1991–1992) 63–94; J. Krašovec, “Plato’s and Plutarch’s theories of punishment,” ZAnt 43 (1993) 5–30; J. Krašovec, “Plato’s and Plutarch’s Theories of Punishment,” in idem, Krašovec, Jože. Reward, Punishment, and Forgiveness: The Thinking and Beliefs of Ancient Israel in the Light of Greek and Modern Views (Leiden: Brill, 1999) 715–738.] 4 Plutarch is alone of extant classical authors in seeing divine retribution in this incident. Cicero, De div. 2.23, mentions that Caesar fell at the base of Pompey’s statue, but only draws the conclusion that we are better off not knowing the future. Valerius Maximus 1.1; Suetonius, Caes. 81; and Appianus, Bell. civ. 21.149, do not refer to the coincidence.

112

part 1, chapter 10

Plutarch apologizes for the delay, but feels that the retribution was sufficient since he was murdered by his wife and outraged after death (Pelopidas 35).5 It is even better if the punishment fits the crime, such as in the case of Cassius and Kallippos who are killed with the swords used on their victims (Caesar 69, Dion 58). Sourena, who tricked Crassus, is betrayed and slain by Hyrodes; Hyrodes treacherously killed by his own son. Brutus, like Cassius, commits suicide with his own sword (Caesar 69).6 Philologus, who betrays Cicero is forced to cut off his own flesh and eat it, “the only good thing Antony did in this affair.” One might be suspicious of the horror of Nasica’s punishment for the murder of Tiberius Gracchus, being sent by the senate to Pergamon, where he ends his life “ignominiously,” and perhaps of Sertorius’ assassin who ends his life in a poor village “hated by all men” (Tiberius Gracchus 21; Sertorius 27). But it is better if the end is more gruesome. Plutarch is not without a bit of sadism. The punishment of the ironically named Philologus is told with some relish in Cicero (48) Pompey’s murderers are discovered and executed to the last one “with every possible torture” (Pompey 80). Marius drinks himself to death in a state of hallucination, and his evil son kills himself shortly after (Marius 45).7 Plutarch had to apologize for Timoleon’s blindness, “not retribution, but

5 In De Herod. malign. 856b, historians who give base motives to Thebe, Alexander’s wife, are attacked. In Pel. 35 she acts out of fear of divorce because of her sterility, or for Alexander executing one of her favorites, though Plutarch admits uncertainty about the motive. In De Herod. malign. she acts out of a noble spirit and hatred of evil (dread of faithlessness and hatred of cruelty). In Amat. 768b the death is for the sexual abuse of the boy Pytholaus (Thebe’s brother in Pel. 35), who for this reason kills Alexander. For modern doubts on the authenticity of De Herod. malign., see A. Podlecki, The Life of Themistocles (Montreal, 1975) 69. Modern scholars take it to be by Plutarch, but in the Lives he certainly does not follow all the criticisms in the essay, and the author is inclined to believe Plutarch did not write it. Frost, Plutarch’s Themistocles, 55, takes it as genuine. See also J.W. Boake, Plutarch’s Historical Judgment with Special Reference to the De Herodoti malignitate (Diss. Univ. of Toronto 1975). P.A. Hansen (ed.), De Herodoti malignitate (Amsterdam, 1979), and H. Homeyer, “Zu Plutarchs De malignitate Herodoti,”Klio 49 (1967) 181–187, defend it on the basis of the diatribe genre and reaction to excessive admiration. 6 Some unconscious parallelism may have crept into the Lives here, since in Brut. 43 Cassius is simply found decapitated, with some suggestion of foul play. G.A. Lehmann, “Dion and Herakleides,” Historia 19 (1970) 401–406, notes how Plutarch followed a source hostile to Herakleides. 7 According to Livy, Per. 88, the younger Marius died in a suicide duel with the youngest son of Pontius Telesinus, the Samnite general. J. Bayet treats the matter as a revival of archaic military ideals at the time: “Le suicide mutuel dans la mentalité des Romains,”L’Année Sociologique 38

divine retribution

113

heredity” (Timoleon 37) and passed lightly over Sulla’s last illness, treating it medically rather than morally, as one might expect, thus revealing how easy it is to play this game as one wishes.8 To complete this list, there are the lesser luminaries: Aristion of Athens’ punishment is revealed by to daimonion as approved by the gods (Sulla 14), Marius’ bloody bodyguards are shot down by Sertorius (Sertorius 5), Philip dies of grief after unjustly putting his son to death (Aemilius 8), Antony executes the man who stole the cloak he put over Brutus’ body (Brutus 53), and the murderers of Otho fill the last pages of one piece with a clutter of dead bodies (Galba 27). Victims of injustice must be recompensed. There is the elaborate description of the funeral honors of Philopoimen taken from the pages of Polybios (Philopoimen 21), and similar descriptions are found in Cato Minor 71 and Cicero 49. The latter ends with a tribute from Augustus to Cicero’s patriotism (told to his grandson who was furtively reading the orator’s works); and in Antonius 87 we find the family of Cicero removing the honors and statues of Antony, and hereditary vice from Antony’s line (“none of whom henceforth were allowed to bear the name Marcus”) eventually accumulating in Nero “who came near to destroying the whole Empire.” (1951) 35–89, reprinted in idem, Croyance et Rites dans la Rome Antique (Paris, 1971) 130–176; on the young Marius, 131. 8 Though Plutarch describes the debauchery of Sulla’s last days, he surprisingly leaves out retribution here, and he treats his end as the last manifestation of his glorious tyche. Appianus, Bell. civ. 1.192, does something similar. Pliny, nh 7.138, presents a hostile tradition, apparently suppressed by Plutarch, in contrast to the hostile tradition in Marius toward Marius.

chapter 11

Delphi A prejudice for Delphi fills the Lives, as one might expect from a high functionary there, with close connections to important Romans, including Trajan, and Hadrian, who rewarded him handsomely. Hadrian would do much himself to revitalize the shrine. Besides underlining its role in the great accomplishments of Greece, Plutarch wished to show the long-standing relationship between Delphi and the triumphs of Roman history, and the cultivation of the shrine by noble Romans of the past.1 Only five Greek Lives fail to mention the oracle (Kimon, Dion, Eumenes, Alkibiades, and Pyrrhos). Much of the information was the stock and trade of Greek historiography, but Plutarch enlarges upon it, adds a certain emphasis, and at times radically rewrites it. An interesting problem was caused by Agesilaus and Theseus. According to the oracle, one of these heroes should not have been king, and the other should not even have been born. Plutarch is puzzled in both cases, a puzzlement largely left to the syncrisis, and some sharpness is required to notice that the oracles came from Delphi. In Lysandros 18 and 25–26, with Douris as his source,

1 For the bibliography on the Delphic Oracle, see J. Fontenrose, The Delphic Oracle. Its Responses and Operations with a Catalogue of Responses (Berkeley, 1978). His major reference is to H.W. Parke and D.E.W. Wormell, The Delphic Oracle (Oxford, 1956). See also S. Levin, “The Old Greek Oracles in Decline,” anrw ii.18.2 (1989) 1599–1649. [en: See also S.C.R. Swain, “Plutarch, Hadrian, and Delphi,”Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte = Revue d’Histoire Ancienne 40 (1991) 318–330; M. Maass, Das antike Delphi (Munich, 2007); M. Baltes, “Der Niedergang des Delphischen Orakels: Delphis Oracula Cessant,” in J. Gebauer, E. Grabow, F. Jünger, & D. Metzler (eds.), Bildergeschichte: Festschrift Klaus Stähler (Bildergeschichte, Bibliopolis (Möhnesee), 2004) 1–15; S. Hotz, “Delphi: eine störrische Ziege und Priester unter Druck,” in G. Schwedler, S. Hotz, S. Weinfurter, & C. Ambos (eds.), Die Welt der Rituale: von der Antike bis heute (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 2005) 102–105. On Plutarch and Delphi see: Ph.A. Stadter, “Plutarch: Diplomat for Delphi?,” in Lukas de Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works: The Statesman in Plutarch’s Greek & Roman Lives 1 (Leiden: Brill, 2004) 19–31; J. McInerney, “ ‘Do You See What I See?’: Plutarch and Pausanias at Delphi,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works 1, 43–55; A. Casanova, “Plutarch as Apollo’s priest at Delphi,” in L. Roig Lanzillotta & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 151–157; A. Müller, “Dialogic Structures and Forms of Knowledge in Plutarch’s The E at Delphi,” shps 43(2) (2012) 245–249; M. Scott, Delphi: a History of the Center of the Ancient World (Oxford, 2014).]

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_014

delphi

115

we find interesting details about Lysandros’ attempt to corrupt the oracle, which are not in other authors.2 He had to rewrite the relationship of Delphi to events in the Persian Wars since Herodotos’ account was not the most kindly. The oracle is the savior of Greece in Themistokles 10, though with application of the pia fraus by the hero; derogatory material such as we find in Herodotos, demoralization, duplicity, the “miraculous” escape from plundering (Herodotos 7.140, 7.18, 8.35) do not appear. Herodotos had given no credit to Delphi for the battle of Plataiai, reserving clerical glory for the Elean diviner and athlete, Tisamenos (9.34). In Plutarch the Delphic oracle informs the Greeks as to the location for battle, even if Zeus Soter must appear in a dream to clarify some of the ambiguous details (Aristeides 11), and the fires extinguished by the Persians are relit from the Delphic flame.3 We do not hear of the oracle predicting victory for the Persians if Delphi were left untouched (9.44) nor that a tenth of the booty should go to Delphi (9.81). In the Lykourgos Delphi is the main source of inspiration for the hero, in contrast to other accounts which had him draw his knowledge from Crete. Naturally Theseus is dominated by help from Delphi. In contrast, those who are hostile to Delphi or try to take advantage of it, like Lysandros (Lysandros 18), Demetrios (Demetrios 10–13), Demosthenes (Demosthenes 19), or Timoleon’s mercenaries (Timoleon 30), receive harsh words from Plutarch and often retribution from to daimonion. Since Delphi occupies a large part of Theseus, it is not unusual that Plutarch in the Romulus (9), even through inadvertence, should have spoken of the building of the asylum at Rome as something in obedience to what may be mistranslated as “an oracle from Delphi,” and toward the end of the life Delphi is introduced in connection with a story parallel to the mysterious disappearance of Romulus (28).4 But an introduction of Delphi into

2 Nock, Essays i, 248, is rather sceptical about Plutarch’s account of both Lysandros and Demetrios. In the latter case, the Dionysia was not eliminated from the festivals, but the Demetreia added to it. Nilsson, Geschichte ii, 139, is also very sceptical. 3 Plutarch gives the oracle in the original Dorian, apparently to underscore its authenticity. See Fontenrose, The Delphic Oracle, 319–320. 4 Parke & Wormell, The Delphic Oracle, do not include this passage. The word πυθόχρηστος (“worthy of the Pythia?”) might be a reflection of Aischylos, Choephoroi 900–901, and 940, where it may have received the meaning “reliable” by Plutarch’s time. Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, i, 69, takes it as from Delphi, believing it to be based on a Hellenistic decree (Sylloge, 3rd ed., 550). Plutarch alone gives “of the god Asylum,” but the change of the case here from -ου to -ον would give “the asylum of the god” (i e., Jupiter Capitolinus). In Arist. 11.5 and 6, an oracle of Delphi is at stake but the meaning would be intelligible as “oracle.”

116

part 1, chapter 11

the institution of the asylum, and the story of Kleomedes of Astypalaia, who disappeared like Romulus, may have been conscious or unconscious attempts at parallelism with the Theseus. More clear signs of linking Rome with Delphi are in the sending of a Roman embassy to Delphi before the capture of Veii in Camillus 4. Plutarch’s account offers striking differences from that of Livy, though both must have looked at the account of Fabius Pictor, an ambassador to Delphi in the Punic Wars. Plutarch curiously is alone in naming the ambassadors sent, but omits the names of the deputation who gave the golden bowl in thanksgiving. Also (did he think it out of character?) his Camillus prays to Zeus and the other gods before Veii, while Livy’s (5.21) (Pictor’s?) prays to the Pythian Apollo.5 He is our only source for the golden bowl offered Delphi after Marcellus’ victory over the Gauls (Marcellus 8).6 At the time of Hannibal’s invasion into Italy, the deputation in Livy is part of the superstitious panic ensuing upon the Roman catastrophe (22.55). Plutarch does away with this atmosphere in Fabius 18, treating the consultation as very normal, is silent about the stupid response recorded by Livy, and omits the request by the priests there for a part of the booty. Trips of Roman supermen there are treated with the greatest care. Chapter twelve of Flamininus is taken up mainly with descriptions of the dedications and honors performed at the time. Aemilius Paullus (Aemilius 28) arrives in Delphi for the erection of his statue, related in some detail, then returns after the victory over Perseus to offer thanks.7 Sulla caused much trouble, both to the shrine and to Plutarch’s Life. Plutarch plays it both ways. The desecration of the shrine and the attempt of a “friend of Phokis” to spare it are related in a pathetic manner (12). The Amphiktyons themselves, in Putarch’s description, are forced 5 The oracle was quite blunt in Livy (22.55–57): Si ita faxitis Romani, uestrae res meliores facilioresque erunt magisque ex sententia res publica uestra uobis procedet uictoriaque duelli populi Romani erit. Pythio Apollini re publica uestra bene gesta seruataque lucris meritis donum mittitote, deque praeda manubiis spoliisque honorem habetote lasciuiam a uobis prohibetote. On Fabius Pictor, a delegate to Delphi, and undoubtedly behind much of this, see E. Badian, “The Early Historians,” in T.A. Dorey (ed.), Latin Historians (London, 1966) 1–38; and D. Timpe, “Fabius Pictor und die Anfänge der römischen Historiographie,” anrw i.2 (1972) 928–969. 6 Commented upon by K. Ziegler, “Plutarchstudien xxii. Drei Gedichte bei Plutarch,”Rh. M. 110 (1967) 53–64. 7 The inscription on the Aemilius monument is still intact: L-Aimilius-L-f-inperator-de-regePerse / Macedonibusque-cepet. See Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, iv, 104, and L. Budde, “Das römische Historienrelief i,” anrw i.4 (1973) 800–804. Plutarch relates Delphi three times to the career of Alexander (3; 14; 37), and in 40 he mentions the hunting scene dedicated by Krateros and executed by Lysippos and Leochares. See Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, ix, 83, 122, 239.

delphi

117

to cut up a large silver jar so as to transport it on donkeys. He only vaguely tries to excuse Sulla on the grounds of expediency and the promise of compensation (interesting if this is a rewording of Sulla’s Memoirs). Finally, Sulla, in contrast to those great commanders of the past who left the shrine intact, is one of the later commanders, avaricious demagogues who first sold out themselves, then their country (Sulla 12). Yet he records Sulla’s devotion to the Pythian Apollo, attested by a golden statuette he carried with him before Praeneste (29). To this general treatment of the Delphic oracle in the Lives one can now add, due to the comprehensive work on the responses and their sources by J. Fontenrose, a sharper idea of Plutarch’s manipulation of sources in favor of the importance of the oracle in Greek and Roman history. His study gives a full index to citations from both the Moralia and the Lives, offering comparison with other sources, general discussions, and the particular treatment of each oracle.8 One can start first with the Greek Lives for Plutarch’s partiality and difference from other authors. In Theseus 15 (l = legendary, 45 in Fontenrose) the Athenians receive an oracle from “the god” to send the boys and girls to Minos. Plutarch’s readers would undoubtedly understand this as Delphi. Diodoros also has “the god” (4.61.2), so this element could not have originated with Plutarch, but no oracle is found in Ovid, Metamorphoses 7.456–460, 8.169176, treating the same material, nor in Pausanias 1.27.10, nor Hyginus, Fabulae 41. In Theseus 18 (l 47) the hero is told by Delphi to “take Aphrodite as his guide” and (l 102) is given an oracle to found Pythopolis. Plutarch is the only source for these, though he gives a certain Menekrates as his own source for the latter and a reference appears to it in the Byzantine John Tzetzes (Iliad p. 95 Hermann). That in Aristeides 11 (q 154 [q = “quasi-historical”]) also found in Quaest. conv. 628f, gives directions before the battle of Plataiai. This appears elsewhere only in Clement of Alexandria (Protreptikos 35), an author who would have read Plutarch. Fontenrose, who hardly is the epitome of gullibility, considers this one of only two oracles in Plutarch which are probably genuine. The oracle on the recovery of Theseus’ bones from Skyros (q 164) (Theseus 36, Kimon 8) appears only in Plutarch as an oracle from Apollo. A scholion to Euripides, Hippolytos 11 simply mentions an oracle. Diodoros, 4.62.4, mentions no oracle and puts the event in prehistoric times. That (q 163) on the lame kingship for Agesilaus (Agesilaus 3 and Lysandros 22, De Pythiae oraculis 399bc) appears in Pausanias 8 Fontenrose, The Delphic Oracle, with the catalogue of “quasi-historical” oracles (268–354). See also the review of Fontenrose by F.E. Brenk, Gnomon 52 (1980) 700–706, and Fontenrose’s review of M. Delcourt, L’ oracle de Delphes (reprint of 1955 ed., Paris 1981), Gnomon 55 (1983) 264–265.

118

part 1, chapter 11

3.89 as well as in Plutarch, but in Xenophon, Hellenika 3.3.3. is simply “from Apollo” and in Diodoros 11.50.4 is only “from the god.” Another oracle (q 199) for Lysandros to beware “sounding hoplite and a snake” in Lysandros 29 and De Pythiae oraculis 408a is also only in Plutarch. That (q 193) in Nikias 13 (De aud. 43b) about the proposed war against Syracuse, appears only in Plutarch, and is suspiciously similar to oracles from Dodona (Pausanias 8.11.12, Dion Chrysostomos 17.17). The oracle on the finding of a golden tripod (q 76) in Solon 4, extant in other authors, seems originally to have been associated with Apollo at Didyma. Diogenes Laertios (1.1.29) says the tripod was dedicated to Apollo Didymeus or Apollo Delphinios at Miletos. The oracle “Blessed is the city that listens to a single herald” (q 68) (Solon 9), one of those which Fontenrose thinks could be genuine, is, however, not well-supported. He suggests that Plutarch’s source, Hermippos or Androtion, turned a real prose response into verse (in Fontenrose’s theory the oracles never have responses in verse until very late).9 Another, q 67, “Sit in the middle of the ship steering straight, you have many helpers in Athens” (Solon 14), he thinks probably were two hexameters not meant as an oracle, which Androtion or Hermippos, Plutarch’s source, found in a poem, probably not written by Solon. That in Alexander 37 on a wolf as guide to Alexander (q 217) is not mentioned in other authors, while Diodoros, Arrian and Curtius Rufus, depending on Kleitarchos, simply mention an anonymous oracle. q 216 in Alexander 14, on Alexander’s invincibility, is spread out in other authors between the Delphic oracle and the shrine at Ammon. Diodoros’ source indicates both, but it is clear from 17.51 that Ammon speaks in the original story. While archeology seems to discover more links between Greece and the Italian world, even in the Mycenaean period, with a long period of Greek influence on the city of Rome, Fontenrose’s study gives no support for any actual recorded contact with the oracle. However, Plutarch is not alone responsible for its introduction even if in a few cases he seems to be the only witness. The oracle in Camillus 4 (q 202) on the taking of Veii appears in Dionysios of Halikarnassos, Antiquitates Romanae 12.13, Livy 5.16.9, Valerius Maximus 1.6.3, and Zonaras, Histories 7.20. Livy actually gives it the fullest expression. However, in Cicero it is the Veientine fata (De divinatione 1.44.100), and Roman legend seems to have assigned it to a Veientine soothsayer or a noble Veientine 9 M. Manfredini & L. Piccirilli, Plutarco, La vita di Solone (Roma, 1977), point out, 133–134, that the third verse of the oracle given in Solon 9 recalls the argumentation of Solon before the Spartan arbitrators concerning the orientation of the corpses. This supports the Athenian mode of orientation, thus, perhaps, added at a later date. Parke and Wormell surprisingly rejected this oracle.

delphi

119

deserter. The earliest source, Cicero, has only the noble Veientine. Dionysios, Livy, and Plutarch add the Delphic oracle to the soothsayer (or fata), both saying the same thing. Fontenrose notes that it is unclear whether Delphi also gave an actual ritual prescription to reinstate the Latin festival, in the supposed account. He rejects the oracle on the grounds of Roman contact with Delphi being improbable at this early date, an argument which seems to be becoming weaker. Parke, too, listed it among legendary oracles. In Cicero 5 (q 248) the oracle tells Cicero that he is to make his own nature, not the opinion of the multitude, his guide in life. This rather unspectacular oracle, which sounds more like Zeno than Apollo, is quickly discredited by Fontenrose on the basis of its absence in Cicero’s writings. Perhaps Plutarch absorbed it from his Roman friends, but it sounds suspiciously like the imaginary stories invented by tourist guides to enhance their sites for particular nationalities. In Pliny, Naturalis Historia 34.12.26 (q 228), during the time of the Samnite war—for Parke and Wormell, the second war—the Romans receive an oracle from Delphi that “they are to erect images of the bravest and the wisest Greek.” Accordingly they set up statues of Alkibiades and Pythagoras in the Forum. Pliny says they were removed in Sulla’s time. The oracle was anonymous at first or attributed to the Sibylline Books, on the basis of q 229, an oracle about Roman consultation for a plague. This was attributed to Delphi by Ovid (Metamorphoses 15.637–640) but to the Sibylline books by Livy (10.45.7) and Valerius Maximus (1.8.2). But Plutarch on the statues (Numa 8) only mentions an unidentified oracle and does not date it. Fontenrose even suggests that the statues may never have existed in the first place and that the introduction of Delphi is simply Pliny’s assumption. In any case, one would suspect that had Plutarch read Pliny he would have labeled the oracle as Delphic. Otherwise we have an incredible lapse on his part. That Ovid and Pliny introduce Delphi, apparently gratuitously, suggests that Plutarch often finding Delphi mentioned where its activity is not substantiated in other extant authors, did not necessarily have to invent its presence. Ovid’s purpose was something like that of Plutarch’s, to link the Greek and Roman world, and for different purposes both liked oracles. Thus it is not unusual that we should find them as interesting bedfellows, even if in this case in different beds. Recently V. Citti has noted the sacral dimension given to Plutarch’s Lives by the use of oracles and dreams which guide the devout man with arete, who is attentive to the will of the divine through the course of history.10 As an

10

Citti, “Plutarco, Nik. 1.5,” 99–110. He notes that the latter part of the oracle given to Cicero (Cicero 5) seems to be a citation from Plato, Kritias 44c: ἀλλὰ τί ἡμῖν, ὦ μακάριε Κρίτων, οὕτω

120

part 1, chapter 11

example he cites the discussions in Nikias 13 and 14 on the oracles and signs before the battle of Syracuse, where the Athenians had been clearly warned by heaven not to attack Syracuse, but led on by greed and glory, abetted by the evil influence of Alkibiades, ignored or perverted oracles and portents. They were, moreover, particularly misled by an oracle from Ammon that they would “take” the Syracusans. Citti also cites Aristeides 11 and Pelopidas 20 where before the battles of Plataiai and Leuktra the hero is advised by oracles and dreams. Certainly Plutarch’s use of the sacred distinguishes his Lives from pragmatike historia, but few of the aggressive politicians and soldiers of the Lives were the daimonic men of the Moralia. Even Pelopidas is only a marginal figure among the military philosophers who form the participants in De genio. Ammon actually bungles its role of clairvoyant, at least in so far as any reasonable man would interpret its response, though Plutarch would not stoop so low as to underline its inferiority to Delphi. Moreover, Nikias’ prime fault is superstition, a trait exaggerated in Plutarch over Thucydides. The actual makers of history in Plutarch’s Lives frequently suffered disaster by ignoring the benevolence of the divine, through blindness and insensitivity, while only a minority of whom saw their eusebeia (piety) rewarded with success. But the daimonic readers of Plutarch have been left to listen to many silent words by which they can learn of the divine guidance of human affairs. τῆς τῶν πολλῶν δόξης μέλει. Citti traces this theme in Plutarch of “not following the opinion of the multitude,” and its philosophical precedents. R. Flacelière, “à Delphes,” in Études Delphiques à la Memoire de P. de La Coste-Messeliere (Bull. Corr. Hell., Suppl. 4) (Paris, 1977) 159–160, discredits the authenticity of the oracle to Cicero.

chapter 12

The Mythological Lives and Roman Religion Plutarch’s Life of Herakles is lost. However, the Lives of Theseus, Romulus, and Numa are mythical to a great extent, as he himself confessed. Since Theseus was balanced against the more historical Romulus, Plutarch was more or less forced to follow the line of allégorisme réaliste and réalisme historico-géographique— in Pépin’s terminology—a direction followed by Strabo and Diodoros.1 Plutarch tells us as much in the introduction. Flacelière notes that he never cites the Cyclic poets, rejects the Homeric line referring to Theseus, omits Bacchylides 17 on Theseus’ reception by Poseidon at the bottom of the sea, discounts a sixth century Theseid, and criticizes the national prejudices of the dramatists. He cites numerous prose writers, Aristotle, logographers, Atthidographers, Diodoros Periegetes, and Andron of Halikarnassos, whose taste in myth and ritual undoubtedly suited Plutarch’s own. Euhemerism, which he disdains in De Iside, appears in the interpretation of the Minotaur as a general of Minos, the labyrinth as a prison (with Philochoros as source), and the descent to the underworld as a journey to the Molossian king (Theseus 16; 19; 35).2 Rademacher treats the life as primarily the glorification of Theseus as founder of the Attic state, but this impression is misleading.3 Though political reasons are often given for mythical actions, only one tenth of the Life concerns Theseus’ political activity, and that falls mostly in 24 and 25. Plutarch rejects, as is natural, his divine birth (2), but relates rather seriously encounters with monsters and robbers (the Krommyonian sow being a female robber). He includes interesting alternate versions, even when a bit fantastic, and is not averse to treating four rapes and two illicit unions, pressing his historical acumen to decide whether

1 Jean Pépin, Mythe et Allégorie. Les origines grecques et les contestations Judéo-Chrétiennes (Paris, 1958) 146;151. 2 Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, i, 3–11, esp. 5. Flacelière, 10, n. 2, believes Plutarch may have been influenced by Plato’s advice: “Let us not believe or permit ourselves to say that Theseus, the son of Poseidon and Peirithoos, the son of Zeus, attempted any of these abductions so criminal” (Politeia 391c). 3 Mythos und Sage bei den Griechen (Darmstadt, 1968 [1943]), esp. ch. 1, “Die vier Tendenzen der Theseusbiographie,” 241–261. He finds four themes (260): Theseus as patron of the Attic deme, as the hero of the small states around Attica, Theseus absolved from guilt, and Theseus parallel to Herakles (but that the ktistes [founder] theme prevails). He thinks that Plutarch’s break with rationalism belongs to the religious revival of Augustus and after (248).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_015

122

part 1, chapter 12

Theseus participated in the Argonaut rape of Helen. Quite a bit is given to the interpretation of ritual, possibly to balance the life with that of Romulus.4 This falls mostly in 4, 5, 12, 21, 33, and 35—rather neatly spread out in the Life. The two Lives reflect the comparative method, used not only in biography, but in the Greek and Roman Questions, most of which are concerned with religion. In general, Plutarch is a little puritanical. He attempts to avoid the impression of savagery in the portrayal of Theseus, whose aim is quixotically “to do no wrong but to punish those who offer violence” (7). Thus he downplays the Skiron and Prokrustes incidents. Nor does he say anything about Pasiphae’s love for the bull, though he seriously discusses the color of Theseus’ sails, and gives much space to the repulse of the Amazons.5 The latter probably was interesting as background to much Greek and Greek inspired art of his period. It is then a little misleading to think of him struggling with might and main to turn these Lives into history. He was much harder on Romulus. He discards his divine birth, though giving an interesting story about a daimonios phallos (“supernatural phallus”). This rises from the hearth to perform its duty, which is the impregnation of the kingly line (2). The story is puzzling in its note of antiquity, but is from an historian, Promathion, who may have lived not much before Plutarch’s time.6 In contrast to Theseus, we are well informed that Romulus’ reign began

4 A very exhaustive study of the sources of Theseus can be found in H. Herter, “Theseus,” re Supplbd. xiii (1973) 1045–1238. He believes Plutarch’s account was mainly based on Istros. Another recent account is R. Higgins, The Quest for Theseus (London, 1970). Flacelière refers to his article, “Sur quelques passages des Vies de Plutarque,”reg 59 (1948) 67–105. For some more recent work on Theseus, see L. Gianfrancesco, “Un frammento sofistico nella Vita di Teseo di Plutarco,” in M. Sordi (ed.), Storiografia e propaganda (Milan, 1975) 7–20. The same volume contains P. Ferrarese, “Caratteri della tradizione antipericlea nella Vita di Pericle di Plutarco,” 21–30, and S. Fuscagni, “Callistene di Olinto e la Vita di Pelopida di Plutarco,” 31–55. Herter has also written an article on Theseus: “Θησεύς,” Platon 25 (1973) 3–13. F. Brommer, Theseus. Die Taten des griechischen Helden in der antiken Kunst und Literatur (Darmstadt, 1982), offers a perspective of the Theseus legend in art and literature, a comprehensive bibliography, and notes, esp. to the artistic representations. Strangely he omits Plutarch from his chronological list of ancient authors. For the difficulties in identifying the crane dance at Delos (Plutarch, Theseus 21) on Attic vases, mostly from the archaic period, see 83–85. 5 Plutarch, Theseus 15, explains the human sacrifice incident of the Minotaur legend as in the style of tragedy (τραγικώτατος μῦθος), and offers Euripides’ description of the Minotaur (fr. 996, 997 Nauck). The Life is filled with alternate accounts. 6 A king with an Etruscan sounding name (Tarchetius), sees the phallus rising from the hearth and is told by an oracle of Tethys in Etruria that he must have his daughter impregnated by it. She is saved by Hestia, a maid performs the duty, and the twins are born (2). T.J. Cornell,

the mythological lives and roman religion

123

and ended in blood. At the end of the Life Plutarch discards any abnormal type of divinization for Romulus, preferring to regard his divinization as the normal progressive purification from human to hero, daimon, and god, which is the theory of the “others” in De defectu.7 The disappearance of Romulus is considered a fable, like that related of Kleomedes of Astypalaia, and of Aristeas of Prokonnesos—which, according to Plutarch, took place at Kroton—and the disappearance of the body of Alkmena.8 Finally, he modifies the words of “Aeneas and the Twins: The Development of the Roman Foundation Legend,” pcps 21 (1975) 1–33, gives a 1st cent. bc date to Promathion. E. Gabba, “Considerazioni sulla tradizione letteraria sulle origini della Repubblica,” in Les origines de la République Romaine (Vandœuvres— Geneva, 1967) 133–174, speculated that Plutarch was affected by late Republican “Etruscomania” (148). 7 R. Palmer, Roman Religion and Roman Empire. Five Essays (Philadelphia, 1974), has commented on Plutarch’s inconsistency in treating the disappearance of Romulus (8), his use of Varro for the horoscope of Romulus (Rom. 12), and his references to human sacrifice, which he abhorred, performed in Rome in his own day (154, 157). For accounts of the disappearance of Romulus and some newer original ideas see F. Coarelli, “Il Pantheon, l’apoteosi di Augusto e l’apoteosi di Romolo,” in Kjeld de Fine Licht (ed.), Città e architettura nella Roma Imperiale (Rome, 1983) 41–46. [en: C. Pelling, “Making myth look like history: Plato in Plutarch’s TheseusRomulus,” in A. Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 431–443; P. Marchetti, “Autour de Romulus et des Lupercalia: une exploration préliminaire,” lec 70(1–2) (2002) 77– 92; F.E. Brenk, “Religion under Trajan: Plutarch’s resurrection of Osiris,” in Stadter and Van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor. Plutarch, Greek Intellectuals, and Roman Power in the Time of Trajan (98–117 a.d.) (Leuven, 2002) 72–92.] 8 Flacelière, Plutarque. Vies, i, 234, notes that Herodotos (4.13–15) put Aristeas at Kyzikos, but feels that Plutarch, who often deviates from Herodotos, and may have been influenced by Pythagorean sources, probably wrote what the mss. have, κρότωνος rather than κυζίκου. See his article “Plutarque et les oracles béotiens,” Bull. Corr. Hell. 70 (1946) 199–207 (205–207). Aristeas has been treated by J.D.P. Bolton, Aristeas of Proconnesus (Oxford, 1962) (on this passage, 16, 128, 129, 201), who explains how Aristeas came to be associated with Croton. The matter has been treated by Flacelière, “Sur quelques passages des Vies de Plutarque,” and previously by K. Scott, “Plutarch and the Ruler Cult,” tapa 60 (1929) 117–135. Flacelière saw Plutarch downgrading Romulus by giving him the status of daimon rather than theos, and making arete, not a state decree, the qualification for divinization (94–98). Plutarch however, in contrast to Livy who offers a rationalistic explanation for belief in the apotheosis, gives more credence to the apotheosis, but locates it in the general context of divinization for all ‘good’ men, who advance “by nature and divine justice” from the state of heroes, to daimones, to gods. Unlike De defectu 415b, divinization is not restricted to a ‘few’ of the good souls, nor to the ‘better’ daimones as in De facie 944d. Moreover, here Plutarch only uses two of the terms for the telos used at 944e, omitting ἐφετόν and θεῖον and expressing more explicitly the telos and the idea of transformation into gods (εἰς θεοὺς ἀναφέρεσθαι, τὸ κάλλιστον καὶ μακαριώτατον τέλος ἀπολαβούσας, 28). See also G.W. Bowersock, “Greek Intellectuals and the Imperial Cult

124

part 1, chapter 12

Romulus after death to Julius Proculus on the Appian Way, making them less militaristic and nationalistic. Livy’s Romulus says: “So farewell and declare to the Romans that my Rome shall be the capital of the world; so let them cherish the art of war and let them now teach their children that no human strength can resist Roman arms.” (1.16). Plutarch’s Romulus is more schooled in the art of international diplomacy: “So farewell and tell the Romans that if they practice self-restraint and add to it valor, they will reach the utmost heights of power.” (28). The Numa is more concerned with religious questions and rites than with the shadowy Numa. The disappearance of Aristeas suggests Neopythagorean sources for the Romulus, but these sources are more evident in Numa.9 In contrast to Cicero, who regarded the association of Numa with Pythagoras as a ridiculous fraud of Pythagorean scholarship (inveteratus error, De Rep. 2.15.29), and Livy (1.18–21), who like Cicero makes Numa a born and bred Sabine unaffected by Greek influence, Plutarch plays upon possible Pythagorean influence, and relates the discovery of the Books of Numa without underlining the possibility of forgery. His Numa receives many possible ideas from Pythagoras, or at least that possibility is left open, including the prohibition against images of the gods (a special interest of Plutarch’s in De Iside, and in his discussion of Jewish religion, as well as in De superstitione). The Numa is also more witty, and Plutarch seems to delight in telling the story of how the hero, with the help of Picus and Faunus, cajoled and outwitted Jupiter when he asked for human sacrifice (15), and the story of the keeper of the temple of Hercules, who, while shooting dice with the god, offered the prostitute Laurentia as a dubious prize (5).

in the Second Century ad,” in W. Den Boer (ed.), Le culte des souverains dans l’Empire Romain (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1973) 179–206 (189); and S.F. Price, “Gods and Emperors: The Greek Language of the Roman Imperial Cult,” jhs 104 (1984) 79–95; and idem, Rituals and Power. The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1984), esp. 115–116. See also F.E. Brenk, “From Rex to Rana: Plutarch’s Treatment of Nero,” in A. Ceresa-Gastaldo (ed.), Il Protagonismo nella Storiografia Classica (Genoa, 1987) 121–142. 9 On this see Flacelière’s introduction to the Numa (Vies i, 166–178). He doubts G. Dumézil’s theories about historicized myth in Numa on the basis that the Numa legend does not seem strong in 2nd cent. bc literature (Ennius). Dumézil’s theories can be found in Mitra-Varuna (Paris, 1948), and idem, Archaic Roman Religion (trs. Chicago, 1970). Flacelière notes the theory of E. Pais, Storia critica di Roma durante i primi cinque secoli i (Rome, 1913) 447–456, that Pythagoreans of South Italy in the 4th cent., finding an ancient river god Numicius near the stream of Egeria, grecized the myth, changing Numicius into Numa. On Numa, see now M. Manfredini and L. Piccirilli, Le Vite di Licurgo e di Numa (Milan, 1980) 290–338.

the mythological lives and roman religion

125

Plutarch relied heavily upon Livy, Fabius Pictor, Diokles of Peparethos, Varro, and Dionysios of Halikarnassos, and probably received help from his Roman friends, such as Sextius Sulla of Carthage. Such sources were used for the Quaest. Rom., where he incorporated a number of other sources: among the Greek, Juba, Aristotle, Kastor, Sokrates of Argos, Favorinus, Plato, Chrysippos, Alexander Polyhistor, Pyrrho of Lipara, and Herodoros; among the Latin, Cato, Cicero, Livy, Nigidius Figulus, Fenestella, Antistius Labeo, Ateius Capito, and Cluvius Rufus. Ziegler felt that the number of mistranslations suggests that he consulted authors like Varro directly, then later used his notes on them, being a little unconcerned to question his friends on minutiae. Thus the October Equus appears as the December Equus (apparently counting December as the “tenth” month).10 H.J. Rose in a thorough study of the sources of the Quaest. Rom. felt that Plutarch’s principal source was the Homoiotetes (Similarities) of King Juba of Mauretania, whose interests would be similar to those of Plutarch, and who drew heavily on Dionysios and Varro. Juba had married a daughter of Antony, and presumably his knowledge of Latin would have been excellent. In Rose’s view 53 out of 113 questions might have been taken directly from Varro, but were more likely found in Juba, and may even have been in other authors. In his opinion whatever the original or intermediate sources, Plutarch was surprisingly independent. Rose thinks that he found Livy in Juba (though he also used him directly), as well as Nigidius Figulus and Ateius Capito. Since he used Fenestella for Sulla and Crassus, this was a direct source. Rose reduced to twenty-five the number of passages resembling the work of Verrius Flaccus, very recent in Plutarch’s day; but he went on to show that many of these parallels were not all that convincing and suggested that Verrius might have been used by Juba. His eventual feeling was that Verrius, like Varro, was found in Juba, and Plutarch went on to consult these authors directly, but at a later time. Rose concluded that Plutarch drew on good sources and not unintelligently, that the mistakes were a small percentage of the whole, and thus the work was on the whole quite reliable.11

10

11

For Plutarch’s sources see Flacelière, Vies i, 55; Ziegler, Plutarchos, 223–224; Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method,” 74–96; and idem, “Plutarch’s Adaptation,” 127–140. For the Quaest. Rom. there is a full, but rather confusing treatment of the sources in Rose, The Roman Questions, 11–45; 27 on use of Juba; 30 on questions from Varro. On Plutarch’s use of Varro see E. Valgiglio, “Varrone in Plutarco,” Atti del Congresso Internazionale di Studi Varroniani ii (Rieti, 1976) 571–595. Plutarch seems to have ignored the De Lingua Latina. An example (in regard to covering the head when praying) from Kastor, “when he is trying

126

part 1, chapter 12

Plutarch employs a number of different approaches: comparison with Greek rites, Pythagorean speculation or symbolism, etymological explanation, number mysticism, alleged historical cause or confusion. He seems most on target when offering comparative Greek material of a primitive type, but he seems oblivious to the possibility of consulting other comparative material. Thus his rate of success is around fifty percent at best, and where he is successful often we suspect a lucky guess. Though at times his instinct for comparative Greek material, which he undoubtedly knew as well as any Greek of his day, leads him to a good conclusion, a modern scholar would be surprised at the infrequency with which he uses this approach. Among the questions which interested him in the Romulus are those concerning the Parilia, Jupiter Feretrius, Moneta, the Matronalia, Carmentalia, Lupercalia, Vestals, the lituus (the crooked staff used by the augurs), the disappearance of Romulus, Quirinus, and the Regia. In Numa he treats the Pontifices and Vestals in greater detail, along with the Fetiales, Terminus, Fides, Vesta, Egeria, Libitina, the Salii, Picus and Faunus, Fides and Terminus. Many of these are pseudo-historical explanations. In the Romulus, though he starts right on the Lupercalia, he eventually loses his way. Similarly, in explaining the round shape of the temple of Vesta he is hopelessly lost in Pythagorean speculation. Though something of an inspector Clouzot in his approach, he offers Greek models for Numa’s love (Pan-Pindar, Muses-Archilochos, Hesiod, Asklepios-Sophokles, then Zaleucos, Minos, Zoroaster). One can compare these subjects with those of the Quaest. Rom.: the Vicus Patricius shrine of Diana, the stags’ horns in Diana’s temple, the covering of heads when worshipping, Saturn, the beating of a slave woman in the shrine of Matuta, the rites of the Bona Dea, reverence for the woodpecker, Janus, Libitina-Venus, the consecration of walls but not gates, the carrying of the bride over the threshold, the Argeii, the libations to the dead in February, the Larentia, the restrictions on the Flamen Dialis (one of the priests) (not to anoint himself in open air, not to take an oath, not to touch meal or yeast, to resign office if wife dies, not to touch ivy or travel along road under it, to avoid dogs and goats, not to hold or seek office), the Veneralia, the temple of Vulcanus outside the city, the dog beside the Lares, the sacrifice of a bitch to Geneta Mana, the vultures used in augury, the shrine of Aesculapius outside the city, the burial of Vestals alive, the October Equus, the augurs’ right to the priesthood, the bullae

to bring Roman customs into relation with Pythagorean doctrines: the daimon within us entreats and supplicates the gods without, and thus he symbolizes by the covering of the head the covering and concealing of the soul by the body” (266e).

the mythological lives and roman religion

127

(amulets worn like a locket), and the Lupercalia.12 Often he rightly suspects a taboo or apotropaic sacrifice, as that of a dog to the wolf on the Lupercalia. But at times one suspects that his intention is to justify rather than to explain, for example, that raw flesh is repulsive, like an open wound. Hardly convincing is Plutarch’s attempt to relate the October Equus to the Trojan horse, and the Argeii to Herakles, or the Consualia to a feast of Poseidon, thereby explaining the putting of garlands on horses and asses. That the Lares are clad in dog skins because they are like the Erinyes is an interesting guess. His relationship of the Lupercalia to the purification rites in Boiotia is valuable, as is his frequent reference to dogs or dog sacrifice. Still, we must tolerate his opinion that the Flamen Dialis did not anoint himself in the open air through an aversion to Greek pederasty, and his being careful not to step under ivy because of what happened to the women of Bakchos. As so often with Plutarch, we can remain less grateful for his opinions than thankful for the information, though such views reflect the thought patterns of his day in the field of comparative religion. Finally, according to Plutarch (sounding like an incipient structuralist) the Flamen Dialis does not touch raw meat because it “… neither is a living creature nor has it yet become a cooked food. Now boiling or roasting, being a sort of alteration and mutilation, eliminates the previous form; but raw fresh meat does not have a clean and unsullied appearance, but one that is repulsive, like a fresh wound.” After so many details in the complex and not always consistent or unitary religious philosophy of Plutarch, it may be well to conclude with a passage from De tranquilitate which gives a broad sweep and optimistic attitude toward the world, religion, and our destiny.13 He begins with an introduction from the Cynic Diogenes, who when seeing someone preparing for a holiday said “Is not every day a holiday?” This rather non-cynical remark suggests a Stoic framework for his coming declaration, but in effect it is deeply Platonic. The kosmos is a temple, most holy and worthy of God. Man is introduced into it as a spectator of sensible imitations (μιμήματα) of the intelligibles (νοητά) revealed, according to Plato by the divine nous (intelligence) (Timaios 92c, Epinomis 984a). These imitations have within them the principle (ἀρχή) of life and motion, both in the celestial bodies and on the earth we live in. Life itself is an initiation (μύησις) and most perfect mystery rite (τελετὴ τελειοτάτη). It should be full of cheerful tranquillity (εὐθυμία) and joy. True we are happy when

12 13

Cf. Latte, Römische Religionsgeschichte, 97. For a commentary on this work, consult J. Dumortier and J. Defradas, Plutarque. Œuvres morales, viii (Paris, 1975) 89–129.

128

part 1, chapter 12

there is a holiday or watching an athletic event (the Pythia). But by spending so much time depressed, complaining, and worried about the cares that beset them, men shame the festivals in which God is our choregos (leader of the chorus) and mystagogos (guide in the mysteries). Men delight in music and the sight of animals at play, but when their own life is troubled do nothing to ease their pain. If only they would accept the present without complaint, remember the past with gratitude, and meet the future without fear or lack of trust, their hope cheerful and bright (477c–f)!14 The splendid balance between the appreciation and love of the “phenomenal” world while acknowledging the superiority of the transcendental is combined with sympathy and understanding for the human condition. This optimism both for this world and the next has undoubtedly contributed to giving Plutarch a lasting place in literature and in the hearts of readers of every generation, culture, and help but be impressed by his religious spirit which was based on a noble philanthropia—respect, love, and tolerance for one’s fellow men. It was a blend of common sense and piety, a belief in religious phenomena combined with a healthy appreciation of science and learning, confidence in the superiority of the Greco-Roman way of life, though with appreciation for the religious values and traditions of others. It was basically monotheistic, yet indulgent toward the polytheism which lay at the roots of this culture. At heart he was a pacifist, yet approved harsh solutions and bitter medicine for the good of society, was strikingly otherworldly in his interest in the beyond and the destiny of the soul, yet surprisingly interested in the rough and tumble of his savagely ambitious heroes, and finally, he was both ready to condemn their vices on short notice and forgive them when-

14

For a broader picture of this essay, see D. Tsekourakis’ volume on the popular works of Plutarch, Οἱ λαϊκοφιλοσοφικές πραγμάτειες του Πλουτάρχου. Η σχέση τους με τη διατριβή και με άλλα παραπλησία γραμματειακά είδη (Thessalonika, 1983) 77–177. J.M. Dillon, “Plutarch and Second Century Platonism,” in A.H. Armstrong (ed.), Classical Mediterranean Spirituality. Egyptian, Greek, Roman (New York, 1986) 214–229, gives a summary of Plutarch’s spirituality. He identifies its guiding principles as devotion to Apollo and Delphic worship, cosmic dualism, and in ethics, moderation; and Plutarch separates static and dynamic concepts of daimones. Dillon finds it difficult to place Plutarch in a precise relationship to other thinkers of his period because of the insufficiency of the extant writings. However, he finds Plutarch’s spirituality to be “basically optimistic and world-affirming,” recognizing the tension between good and evil without falling into Manichean or Jansenistic gloom. He, thus, sees Plutarch as more like Plotinos than many of his contemporaries, who were living, according to Dodds, in an “age of anxiety.” I am grateful to Professor Dillon for having let me see his manuscript before publication.

the mythological lives and roman religion

129

ever human nature failed to conform in the most excellent way to that toward which he saw all nature striving, the paradeigmata, perfect Beauty and Goodness.15 15

I would like to thank Professor F.H. Sandbach of Trinity College, Cambridge, for looking over an earlier draft of this article, and Professor Harold W. Attridge of Southern Methodist University for looking over some of the newer sections, in particular that on Middle Platonism. Professor Pier Luigi Donini of the University of Turin has kindly made some corrections and offered some helpful suggestions on Plutarch’s Aristotelianism. Professor John Dillon of Trinity College, Dublin, and Professor John Whittaker of Memorial University, St. John’s, Newfoundland, also were willing to read the manuscript and offer some suggestions. Patricia di Martino graciously helped correct the proofs. Professor Werner Mayer of the Pontifical Biblical Institute detected some remaining infelicities.

part 2 The Life of Mark Antony: A Literary and Cultural Study

∵

For F.H. Sandbach in memoriam

∵

chapter 1

The Neronian Background to the Life 1

The Nerogonia of the Antonios

At the termination of the Antonios, the reader suddenly discovers that the real villain is Nero.1 In the longest genealogical ending of the Lives, Plutarch dedicates special interest to the fate of Antony’s children: Ἀντωνίου δὲ γενεὰν ἀπολιπόντος ἐκ τριῶν γυναικῶν ἑπτὰ παῖδας, ὁ πρεσβύτατος Ἄντυλλος ὑπὸ Καίσαρος ἀνῃρέθη μόνος· τοὺς δὲ λοιποὺς Ὀκταουία παραλαβοῦσα μετὰ τῶν ἐξ ἑαυτῆς ἔθρεψε. καὶ Κλεοπάτραν μὲν τὴν ἐκ Κλεοπάτρας Ἰόβᾳ τῷ χαριεστάτῳ βασιλέων συνῴκισεν, Ἀντώνιον δὲ τὸν ἐκ Φουλβίας οὕτω μέγαν ἐποίησεν, ὥστε τὴν πρώτην παρὰ Καίσαρι τιμὴν Ἀγρίππου, τὴν δὲ δευτέραν τῶν Λιβίας παίδων ἐχόντων, τρίτον εἶναι καὶ δοκεῖν Ἀντώνιον. ἐκ δὲ Μαρκέλλου δυεῖν αὐτῇ θυγατέρων οὐσῶν, ἑνὸς δ’ υἱοῦ Μαρκέλλου, τοῦτον μὲν ἅμα παῖδα καὶ γαμβρὸν ἐποιήσατο Καῖσαρ, τῶν δὲ θυγατέρων Ἀγρίππᾳ τὴν ἑτέραν ἔδωκεν. ἐπεὶ δὲ Μάρκελλος ἐτελεύτησε κομιδῇ νεόγαμος, καὶ Καίσαρι γαμβρὸν ἔχοντα πίστιν οὐκ εὔπορον ἦν ἐκ τῶν ἄλλων φίλων ἑλέσθαι, λόγον ἡ Ὀκταουία προσήνεγκεν ὡς χρὴ τὴν Καίσαρος θυγατέρα λαβεῖν Ἀγρίππαν, ἀφέντα τὴν ἑαυτῆς. πεισθέντος δὲ Καίσαρος πρῶτον, εἶτ’ Ἀγρίππου, τὴν μὲν αὑτῆς ἀπολαβοῦσα συνῴκισεν Ἀντωνίῳ, τὴν δὲ Καίσαρος Ἀγρίππας ἔγημεν. ἀπολειπομένων δὲ τῶν Ἀντωνίου καὶ Ὀκταουίας δυεῖν θυγατέρων τὴν μὲν Δομίτιος Ἀηνόβαρβος ἔλαβε, τὴν δὲ σωφροσύνῃ καὶ κάλλει περιβόητον Ἀντωνίαν Δροῦσος, ὁ Λιβίας

1 This article is greatly indebted to C.B.R. Pelling, Plutarch. Life of Antony (Cambridge, 1988), and to R. Scuderi, Commento a Plutarco, Vita di Antonio (Florence, 1984); Cf. O. Andrei & R. Scuderi (introduction B. Scardigli and M. Manfredini), Plutarco. Demetrio. Antonio (Milan, 1989). See also B. Scardigli, Die Römerbiographien Plutarchs. Ein Forschungsbericht (Munich, 1979) 144– 151; and idem, “Scritti recenti sulle Vite di Plutarco (1974–1986),” in F.E. Brenk & I. Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea Plutarchea, Atti del i Convegno di Studi su Plutarco (Roma, 23 novembre 1985) (Ferrara, 1986) 7–21—besides K. Ziegler, Plutarchos von Chaironeia (Stuttgart, 1964) (= rev. ed. of Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft xxi [Stuttgart, 1951] 636–962), 259– 266. In the notes “Professor” (in a general sense and irrespective of holding a chair) is used before a scholar’s name when the information has been communicated either in a letter or in conversation. Where a name is primarily geographical, often the Greek spelling has been used, e.g., “Aktion,” even when the normal English spelling has been used in another context, e.g., “The Battle of Actium.”

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_016

134

part 2, chapter 1

υἱός, πρόγονος δὲ Καίσαρος. ἐκ τούτων ἐγένετο Γερμανικὸς καὶ Κλαύδιος· ὧν Κλαύδιος μὲν ὕστερον ἦρξε· τῶν δὲ Γερμανικοῦ παίδων Γάιος μὲν ἄρξας ἐπιφανῶς οὐ πολὺν χρόνον ἀνῃρέθη μετὰ τέκνου καὶ γυναικός, Ἀγριππίνα δ’ υἱὸν ἐξ Ἀηνοβάρβου Λεύκιον Δομίτιον ἔχουσα, Κλαυδίῳ Καίσαρι συνῴκησε· καὶ θέμενος τὸν υἱὸν αὐτῆς Κλαύδιος Νέρωνα Γερμανικὸν προσωνόμασεν. οὗτος ἄρξας ἐφ’ ἡμῶν ἀπέκτεινε τὴν μητέρα καὶ μικρὸν ἐδέησεν ὑπ’ ἐμπληξίας καὶ παραφροσύνης ἀνατρέψαι τὴν Ῥωμαίων ἡγεμονίαν, πέμπτος ἀπ’ Ἀντωνίου κατ’ ἀριθμὸν διαδοχῆς γενόμενος.2 Antony left seven children by his three wives, of whom Antyllus, the eldest, was the only one executed by Caesar. The rest were taken over by Octavia, who brought them up with her own children. Kleopatra, the daughter of Kleopatra, Octavia gave in marriage to Juba, a very educated and distinguished king. Antonius, the son of Fulvia, she managed to advance to an extraordinary degree. While Agrippa held the highest honors under Augustus, and Livia’s sons the second highest, Antonius was considered, and really was, the third in line. Through Marcellus, Octavia had two daughters and one son, also named Marcellus. The Emperor made Marcellus both his son and son-in-law, and married off one of Octavia’s daughters to Agrippa. But Marcellus died shortly after his marriage, and Caesar, from among his other friends, could not find a son-in-law he could trust. Octavia, therefore, proposed that Agrippa should marry Augustus’ own daughter, dissolving the marriage with her own. Augustus was first persuaded by her, then Agrippa. Whereupon taking back her own daughter she married her to the young Antonius, while Agrippa married Augustus’ daughter. Antonius left two daughters by Octavia, one of whom married Domitius Ahenobarbus. The other Antonia, who was renowned for her beauty and virtue, was married to Drusus, Livia’s son and the stepson of Augustus. From this marriage, Germanicus and Claudius were born. Of the two, Claudius became emperor, and of the children of Germanicus, Gaius reigned madly, but only for a short while, and then was murdered along with his wife and child.3 2 Antonios 87; C.B.R. Pelling, Plutarch, Life of Antony (Oxford, 1988) 114–115. [en: See now H. Halfmann, Marcus Antonius (Darmstadt, 2011); S. Moorhead, & D. Stuttart, 31 v. Chr.: Antonius, Kleopatra und der Fall Ägyptens (Stuttgart, 2012); J.L. Zecher, “Antony’s Vision of Death?: Athanasius of Alexandria, Palladius of Helenopolis, and Egyptian Mortuary Religion,” jla 7 (2014) 159–176.] 3 See Pelling, Life of Antony, 326, who for the ms. ἐπιφανῶς (87.8) accepts ἐπιμανῶς (following Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 80, note 50). K. Ziegler, Plutarchi Vitae Parallelae ιιι.1 (Leipzig, 1971)

the neronian background to the life

135

Agrippina, who had a son by Ahenobarbus, Lucius Domitius, became the consort of the emperor Claudius. Claudius then adopted Agrippina’s son, giving him the name Nero Germanicus. This Nero, who became emperor in my time, killed his mother and by his folly and madness nearly brought down the Roman Empire. He was the fifth in descent from Antonius. The passage with its formal genealogical ending returns to the very origins of Greek literature. Surprisingly, in perhaps the last of his Lives, Plutarch seems inspired by the genealogies of oral poetry. One might recall in particular Hesiod’s Theogony, but in a sense too, the Works and Days with the successive deterioration of the human race. The Homeric epics also come immediately to mind, though in reality the genealogies there are extremely restrained. The genealogies of the Homeric epics look both forward and backward, stretching the glorious lineage of a hero into the distant or mythical past, and even back to an original insemination by the divine. Hesiod’s Theogony is a progression in its general lines downward in time but upward in virtue, as the gods become symbols of refinement and power exercised with caution and reason. The Catalogue of Women at the end of the Theogony offers an instance of a genealogy terminating a literary work.4 The general result of the genealogy is positive, with the progeny a lesser god or hero. The weakness of the human condition may be hinted at in the genealogy of Ino, Semele, Agave. But these three would be exceptions that prove the rule.5 Moreover, the poet of this section of the

retains the ms. reading as do R. Flacelière & É. Chambry, Plutarque. Vies xiii (Paris, 1977) 185, who translate “de façon voyante.” But see W.R. Paton & E.L. Hicks, The Inscriptions of Cos (Oxford, 1891): Ἐ]νιαυτοῦ πρώτου τᾶς Γαΐ]ου … ἐπιφανείας (Inscr. Cos 391); and Amatorius 753e, where Semiramis (φαύλη) rules “gloriously” (ἐβασίλευσε ἐπιφανῶς πολὺν χρόνον) over Asia. 4 On the Theogony, see M.L. West, The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Its Nature, Structure and Origins (Oxford, 1985). A very long treatment of genealogy, primarily in archaic and classical Greece, can be found in R. Thomas, Oral Tradition and Written Record in Classical Athens (Cambridge, 1989) 153–195, with a very extensive bibliography. The Iliadic genealogies are somewhat limited in scope: Aeneas, 8 generations (20.200–241), Glaukos, 6 (6.145–211), Achilleus’ only goes back two generations to a god (21.188–191). (As a descendant of Aeneas, perhaps Nero inherited a long genealogy!) Thomas notes the aristocratic and telescoping aspect of most genealogies, which skip back to an illustrious or divine ancestor (157). She also mentions Plato’s contempt (Theaet. 174e–175b) for persons (like Antony), who traced their ancestry back to Herakles, an ancestry which has no bearing on their own character (174). 5 Semele in Euripides’ Bacchai, as one struck by lightning (diobletos), has received a shrine and cult (6–8). See A.B. Cook, Zeus. A Study in Ancient Religion i: Zeus, a God of the Bright Sky (Cambridge, 1914) 22–29; M.P. Nilsson, Geschichte der griechischen Religion i, 71–73; W. Burkert, “Elysion,” Glotta 39 (1960–1961) 208–213; idem, Greek Religion. Archaic and Classical (Oxford,

136

part 2, chapter 1

Theogony was possibly unaware of the tragic stories of these women as known to us from the Bacchai of the strikingly original Euripides. Finally, these Hesiodic genealogies are not especially consistent or well organized. Genealogical tables bespeak a serious interest in the transmission of virtue, arete (excellence) or vice, through the blood line, expressing perfectly the concept of dynasty. Still, in the Parallel Lives Plutarch treated a number of Hellenistic monarchs whose dynastic posterity was important, without delineating this lineage. In general, he contents himself with the brief genealogies leading to the hero’s birth. The Demetrios, the Life paired with the Antonios, has a typically brief genealogy. Even the Antonios is more interested in childhood influences on the hero than in the bloodline itself. The ending of the Antonios is, then, an exception. The mention of numerous women in the genealogy of Nero emphasizes even more the biological transmission of human qualities. Plutarch is non-committal on Claudius, but Gaius (Caligula) certainly seems symptomatic of a deteriorating biological species, almost Stoic in its conception.6 Though a genealogical ending might appear normal or even necessary in Biography, a comparative study reveals the rarity of its appearance in Plutarch’s Lives. At the termination of the Phokion, the hero’s son is described as worthless, so ruled by sexual passion for a slave girl he loved as to ransom her from a brothel (38).7 In Aratos (54) the end of the Macedonian line is Perseus, who succeeded Philip and was displayed in Aemilius’ triumph. However, Perseus is considered by Plutarch the supposititious son of a seamstress, not a direct descendant of Philip. Aratos’ descendants are then described as living in Sikyon 1985) 126 (= idem, Griechische Religion der archaischen und klassischen Epoche [Stuttgart, 1977] 201). 6 [en: See Ph.A. Stadter, “Φιλόσοφος και φίλανδρος: Plutarch’s View of Women in the Moralia and the Lives,” in S.B. Pomeroy (ed.), Plutarch’s Advice to the Bride and Groom and A Consolation to His Wife: English Translations, Commentary, Interpretive Essays, and Bibliography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) 173–182; B.B. Buszard, “The Speech of Greek and Roman Women in Plutarch’s Lives,” cp 105 (2010) 83–115; R.M. Aguilar Fernández, “La valía de las mujeres en Plutarco,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 9–17; M. Durán Mañas, “Valores y virtudes de las mujeres en la Vida de Demetrio,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 75–98; E. Melandri, “La virtù al femminile,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Zambujo Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 173–193.] 7 Cf. L.A. Tritle, “Plutarch’s Life of Phocion: An Analysis and Critical Report,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4293. [en: See also C. Mossé, “Le procès de Phocion,” Dike 1 (1998) 79–85; M. d. C. Fialho “The Interplay of Textual References in Plutarch’s Life of Phocion,” Ploutarchos 8 (2010–2011) 91– 102.]

the neronian background to the life

137

and Pellene in the time of Plutarch. As so often in the endings of the Lives, he creates a context of retribution for the villain and reward for the hero or his children. In Themistokles 32 the hero’s descendants are entitled to certain honors even in the author’s own time. A Themistokles of Athens, presumably a direct descendant, enjoyed these revenues and was Plutarch’s companion and friend in the “school of Ammonios the philosopher.”8 The only other genealogy, or more accurately, reference to descendants, outside the pair Demetrios-Antonios, also belongs to the Julio-Claudian dynasty— excluding the evil end of Marius Junior (Marios 46), and the revenge of Cicero’s sons who engaged in the damnatio memoriae of Antony. (His sons removed the statues and honors of Antony and forbade use of the name Marcus to his descendants [Cicero 49]). The line of Marcellus, according to the author, continued its splendor down to the time of Marcellus, the nephew of Augustus, whose library and theater “bear his name” (Marcellos 30.11).9 Thus, the genealogy at the end of Demetrios seems written to parallel the long genealogy designed for the Antonios (53.8–9): Ἀπέλιπε δὲ γενεὰν ὁ Δημήτριος Ἀντίγονον μὲν ἐκ Φίλας καὶ Στρατονίκην, δύο δὲ Δημητρίους, τὸν μὲν Λεπτὸν ἐξ Ἰλλυρίδος γυναικός, τὸν δ’ ἄρξαντα Κυρήνης ἐκ Πτολεμαΐδος, ἐκ δὲ Δηιδαμείας Ἀλέξανδρον, ὃς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ κατεβίωσε. λέγεται δὲ καὶ Κόρραγον υἱὸν ἐξ Εὐρυδίκης αὐτῷ γενέσθαι. κατέβη δὲ ταῖς διαδοχαῖς τὸ γένος αὐτοῦ βασιλεῦον εἰς Περσέα τελευταῖον, ἐφ’ οὗ Ῥωμαῖοι Μακεδονίαν ὑπηγάγοντο. Demetrios left the following offspring: Antigonos and Stratonike by Philia; two children named Demetrios, one called Leptos (the Thin), by an Illyrian woman; and another, who became ruler of Kyrene, by Ptolemais; and by Deïdameia, Alexandros, who lived and died in Egypt. He is also sup-

8 F. Manfredini, Plutarch’s Themistocles. A Historical Commentary (Princeton, 1980) 235–236; C. Carena, M. Manfredini, & L. Piccirilli, Plutarco. Vite parallele. Le vite di Temistocle e di Camillo (Milan, 1983) 286; P.L. Donini, “Plutarco, Ammonio e l’Academia,” in Brenk & I. Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea Plutarchea, 97–110 and J. Dillon, “Plutarch and Platonist Orthodoxy,” in M. Marcovich, F.E. Brenk, J.P. Hershbell, & P.A. Stadter, Plutarch. Robert Flacelière in Memoriam (Urbana, 1988) 357–364, take issue with J. Glucker, Antiochus and the Late Academy (Göttingen, 1978) esp. 124–127, 133, 257–280, who describes the Academy at that time as a gymnasion, a school for ephebes (359). 9 [en: J.E. Bernard, “Historia magistra mortis: Tite-Live, Plutarque et la fin de Marcellus,” in P. Defosse (ed.), Hommages à Carl Deroux. 2: Prose et linguistique, médecine (Collection Latomus 267; Bruxelles: Latomus 2002) 30–39.]

138

part 2, chapter 1

posed to have had a son by Eurydike, named Korrhagos. His line came down in successions of kings to the last of them, Perseus, in whose reign the Romans conquered Macedonia.10 Both terminate with an ultimate tragedy for the family line. There are striking verbal parallels as well in the Antonios and Demetrios genealogies: Ἀπέλιπε δὲ γενεὰν ὁ Δημήτριος ἐκ Φίλας, ἐξ Ἰλλυρίδος γυναικός, ἐκ Πτολεμαΐδος, ἐκ δὲ Δηιδαμείας, ἐξ Εὐρυδίκης κατέβη δὲ ταῖς διαδοχαῖς Ῥωμαῖοι Μακεδονίαν ὑπηγάνοντο

Ἀντωνίου δὲ γενεὰν ἀπολιπόντος ἐκ Κλεοπάτρας, ἐκ Φουλβίας; κατ’ ἀριθμὸν διαδοχῆς γενόμενος ἀνατρέψαι τὴν Ῥωμαίων ἡγεμονίαν

Plutarch omits mentioning that Nero ended the Julio-Claudians, something which would correspond with the word τελευταῖον (last) of the Demetrios passage. The fact was obvious, but he perhaps desired variation. The τελευταῖα of the first passage corresponds to πέμπτος (fifth) of the Antonios. Comparing the two passages, one can easily observe, in spite of variation in Demetrios, that the formulae are somewhat monotonous. In the longer passage of the Antonios, Plutarch carefully varied the phraseology. Thus, variation occurs in statements on the birth and fate of the child. Secondary personages of great interest to the reader, such as Juba, Agrippa, and Domitius Ahenobarbus are introduced. A background of dynastic machinations and intrigue is suggested. The beauty and virtue of Antonia Minor, despite the inheritance from her father, contrasts with the mad (?) career of Gaius and his murder. And, finally, there are intimations of Agrippina’s relentless scheming to establish Nero on the throne.11

10

11

Ziegler, Plutarchi Vitae Parallelae iii.1. There are some variations in the mss. over the spelling of the children’s names. There is no suggestion here, as in Aratos 54, that Perseus might not be a direct descendant. On the section see Pelling, Life of Antony, 323–327; Scuderi, Vita di Antonio, 119–123. Technically speaking, Antony did not suffer damnatio memoriae, but his treatment was a forerunner of the Imperial form of it; Cf. Pelling, Life of Antony, 323. The endings of the Lives of Cato Maior and Cato Minor depict the prevalence of good blood, which produces heroic offspring, while Aristeides ends with an anecdote concerning an apparently degenerate offspring. [en: M.B. Trapp, “Socrates, the Phaedo, and the Lives of Phocion and Cato the Younger,” in A. Pérez Jiménez, J. García López, & R. Aguilar Fernández (eds.), Plutarco,

the neronian background to the life

139

Undoubtedly, the genealogical tradition was extremely strong among noble Roman families, as observable from the Scipionic epigrams, and must have been extremely important for family biography.12 However, as a rule Plutarch very briefly relates the genealogical traditions at the beginning of a Life. A large number of Republican heroes are treated in the Parallel Lives, but almost never does the ending speak of the line’s continuation. On the other hand, in the early Empire the genealogical connections of the Julio-Claudian family achieved enormous importance, and seemingly affected Plutarch just as they affect modern Neronian scholars and novelists who reproduce an extraordinarily complicated family tree.13 The genealogy of Glaukos in the Iliad is paradigmatic for Greek literature. It follows immediately upon the simile of the leaves (6.146–149): οἵη περ φύλλων γενεή, τοίη δὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν. φύλλα τὰ μέν τ’ ἄνεμος χαμάδις χέει, ἄλλα δέ θ’ ὕλη τηλεθόωσα φύει, ἔαρος δ’ ἐπιγίγνεται ὥρη· ὣς ἀνδρῶν γενεὴ ἣ μὲν φύει ἣ δ’ ἀπολήγει.

12

13

Platón y Aristóteles, 487–499; D.P. Orsi, “Le pere di Catone l’Uticense: (Plutarco, Cato Minor 46,4),” aflb 54–55 (2011–2012) 75–76; L.M. Günther, “Catos Feigen aus Karthago: zur Interpretation einer Anekdote (Plutarch, Cato maior, 27, 1),” in J. González et al. (eds.), L’ Africa Romana. Le ricchezze dell’Africa. Risorse, produzioni, scambi Atti del xvii convegno di studio Sevilla, 14–17 dicembre 2006 (Roma: Carocci editore, 2008) 151–156; Ch. Carsana, “Il Catone di Plutarco: da modello ad antimodello,” in A. González & M.T. Schettino (eds.), L’ idéalisation de l’ autre. Faire un modèle d’un anti-modèle (Besançon, 2014) 243– 266; T. Means, “Plutarch and the Family of Cato Minor,” cj 69 (1974) 210–215.] See for example, F.E. Brenk, “Auorum Spes et Purpurei Flores: The Eulogy for Marcellus in Aeneid vi,” AJPh 107 (1986) 218–228; F. Coarelli, “Il Sepolcro degli Scipioni,” Dialoghi di Archeologia 6 (1972) 36–106; J. van Sickle, “Stile ellenistico-romano e nascita dell’epigramma a Roma,” in G. Flores (ed.), Dall’epigramma ellenistico all’elegia romana. Atti del Congresso della s.i.s.a.c. (Naples, 1984) 9–26; idem, “The Elogia of the Cornelii Scipiones and the Origin of Epigram at Rome,” AJPh 108 (1987) 41–55, esp. 44–48. D. Sansone, “Atticus, Suetonius and Nero’s Ancestors,” in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History, iv (Brussels, 1986) 269–277, believes that T. Pomponius Atticus, the friend of Cicero, probably wrote the genealogy of Nero’s family used by Suetonius, and that others, like M. Terentius Varro, C. Iulius Hyginus, and M. Valerius Messalla Rufus, turned out genealogies in this period. The dynastic concept is strong in Augustan iconography, e.g., the Gemma Augustea and related art; Cf. P. Zanker, The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus (Ann Arbor, 1988) 230–238, pls. 182 (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, ixa.79); 183b (British Museum, London, gr 1866.8–6.1.) (= idem, Augustus und die Macht der Bilder [Munich, 1987] 229–235, Abb. 182, 183b).

140

part 2, chapter 1

Even as is the generations of leaves, such is that of men. As for the leaves, some the wind heaps upon the ground, others the forest Brings forth blooming, when there arrives the season of spring. So is the generation of men, one springeth up and the other passeth away. The simile has been considered a generic statement of the human condition, followed by a specific one of genealogy, in which man is separated from the leaves and the rest of the non-human world by a distinct lineage, by the remembrance of named individuals.14 The Lives constantly play between these poles, the generic and the specific. Thus, the genealogy at the end of Antonios carefully delineates the specific vice of the protagonist as an individual and its transmission in one family line, as though it were “tagging” a disease.15 There is a hint of degeneration in the paradigmatic Glaukos genealogy as well, though Glaukos recites it as a means of suggesting his own valor. He is not the indomitable warrior that Bellerophon was, and inferior to Sarpedon, who also was a descendant of Bellerophon. Even Bellerophon at life’s end wanders around hated by gods and men, while Isandros, his son, is slain by the Solymoi, a race unable to defeat his father. Perhaps by their very nature genealogies which descend from a hero must express deterioration. At the same time, Glaukos too is a hero, and in a deconstructionist sense, Plutarch, though ambiguous about Antony and condemnatory of Nero, by projecting them into an epiclike genealogy of the legendary past endows them with heroic, semi-divine status. But there is another aspect to the genealogy as related by Glaukos, the establishment of a link with the present. The actions of a distant ancestor create a salvific rapport with the contemporary condition. In the case of Glaukos, the

14

15

J.M. Redfield, Nature and Culture in the Iliad. The Tragedy of Hector (Chicago, 1975) 102, notes how the genealogy stresses the individual and kinship, while the nature similes emphasize the continuation of the species. The concept is extremely important for Plutarch’s De sera. As the principal speaker, he presents an argument (against Bion), based on the prevention of evil. Having seen his own children punished for his sins, in the next incarnation the malefactor should avoid making the same mistake; the children, aware of their inherited vice, will take measures against it (561b–f). See P. De Lacy & B. Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii (Cambridge, Mass., 1969) 177. In Broutos 1 and the first chapters of the Cato Lives, family genes are responsible for transmitting even extremely specific traits (such as exterminating tyrants).

the neronian background to the life

141

recollection of his grandfather Bellerophon shakes the memory of Diomedes. Recalling that his grandfather Oineus had once hosted “the peerless Bellerophon” in his halls for twenty days, and that they had exchanged expensive gifts, Diomedes forgets his own murderous intentions. Diomedes and Glaukos, following the paradigm, then exchange gifts themselves. Glaukos thus escapes death, even if a sleepy Homer, who rebukes him for exchanging expensive gifts for cheap, seems to have underestimated his peril. At the end of other Lives, genealogies leading downward from the hero to a future ancestor also suggest degeneration or establish a link with the present. For example, the sons of Phokion and Marius16 are worse than their fathers, while the surreptitious son of Philip, Perseus, not only is inferior to his father, but terminates the Macedonian line. Even Marcellus, the nephew of Augustus, can only be considered a pale shadow of his namesake, the illustrious general. As for a link with the present, the Aratos genealogy names persons who possibly were acquaintances of Plutarch. In Themistokles, a descendant was a friend in “the school of Ammonios,” a period of life recalled with fondness elsewhere in his works. Looking at the genealogy as a genre within the Lives, one could predict that a downward genealogy in Antonios would express deterioration, the closing off of a line, and establish a link with the present. No surprise, then, that the genes of Antony transmitted to numerous persons would produce a Nero, terminating the Julio-Claudian dynasty and striking out, even in death, at the biographer himself. But Plutarch, in Homeric fashion, anticipates the ending with a bit of foreshadowing.17 Two family reminiscences previous to the ending link his own family with Antony, first in a painless, then in a bitter way. In chapter 28, his grandfather Lamprias is the indirect oral source of an anecdote on Antony’s extravagance at table. The direct oral source is a much older friend of his grandfather, Philotas of Amphissa, who when the incident occurred was studying medicine at Alexandria and became a personal physician to Antony’s son.18 The second reminiscence, concerning the great-grandfather Nikarchos,

16

17 18

[en: B.B. Buszard, “The Decline of Roman Statesmanship in Plutarch’s Pyrrhus-Marius,” cq 55 (2005) 481–497; idem, “Caesar’s Ambition: a Combined Reading of Plutarch’s AlexanderCaesar and Pyrrhus-Marius,” tapa 138 (2008) 185–215; G. Schepens, “Plutarch’s View of Ancient Rome: Some Remarks on the Life of Pyrrhus,” in L. Mooren (ed.), Politics, Administration and Society in the Hellenistic and Roman World (Leuven: Peeters, 2000) 349–364.] [en: M. Nerdahl, Homeric Models in Plutarch’s Lives (Diss., University of Wisconsin Madison, 2007, 2007).] Pelling, Life of Antony, 195, gives the inscription at Delphi mentioning Philotas (Supple-

142

part 2, chapter 1

is a bitter one. Before the battle of Actium, “all the citizens” of Chaironeia “under the whip” carried grain to the sea for transport to Antony’s army. The “salvation” of the city was assured when news arrived of his defeat at Actium (68).19 At the end of the Nerogonia, Plutarch is extremely reticent about the danger the Emperor brought to the author. He tends to review his character with cool detachment, respectful of the distance of time and space. The ending of Antonios then, does not convey the great personal suffering he experienced indirectly through the punishment or execution of elder members of a circle on whose fringe he later figured, and perhaps, under Domitian—who revived the persecution against this group, the necessity to save his own life by a hasty flight from Rome: “This Nero, who became emperor in my time, killed his mother and by his folly and madness nearly brought down the Roman Empire. He was the fifth in descent from Antonius” (87.4). The comment underscores two points, matricide, and mental instability (ἐμπληξίας καὶ παραφροσύνης) which nearly caused political catastrophe. Plutarch’s nature, which seeks redeeming good in everyone, contrasts with that of Tacitus, who slashes at persons he despises. Unearthing hidden sadism, Tacitus depicts, in an inimitably appropriate style, human depravity erupting from the darkest recesses of the soul. But Plutarch treats Antony amazingly well for a case study in moral deficiency. Given his nature, one would be surprised to find him exceptionally hard on Nero. Still, his attitude toward Nero deserves

19

mentum Epigraphicum Graecum 1 [Leiden, 1923] 181), citing Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 10. Lamprias, Plutarch’s grandfather, would have been fifty years younger than Philotas. Pelling, Life of Antony, 288. He or Nikarchos was presumably Lamprias’ father and eighty years old at Plutarch’s birth, something of a Methuselah; but he might have had enough wits about him to relate the tale to our budding author. [en: On the use of anecdotes in the Lives, see M.A. Beck, Plutarch’s Use of Anecdotes in the Lives (Diss. Univ. of North. Carolina, 1998); and idem, “Plato, Plutarch, and the Use and Manipulation of Anecdotes in the Lives of Lycurgus and Agesilaus: History of the Laconic Apophthegm,” in A. Pérez Jiménez, J. García López, & R. Aguilar Fernández (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 173– 187; Ph.A. Stadter, “Plutarch’s Compositional Technique: The Anecdote Collections and the Parallel Lives,” grbs 54 (2014) 665–686; L.H. Feldman, “Parallel Lives of Two Lawgivers: Josephus’ Moses and Plutarch’s Lycurgus,” in J.C. Edmondson, S. Mason & J. Boykin Rives (eds.), Flavius Josephus and Flavian Rome. Contributions présentées à un colloque qui s’est tenu à Toronto en mai 2001 (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2005) 209–242; S. Nevin, “Negative Comparison: Agamemnon and Alexander in Plutarch’s Agesilaus— Pompey,” grbs 54 (2014) 45–68; D. Sansone, “Agesilaus and the Case of the Lame Dancer,” ics 37 (2012) 75–96; K.M. Trego, “Competition in Context philonikia in Agesilaus-Pompey,” Ploutarchos 10 (2012–2013) 63–74.]

the neronian background to the life

143

more than a superficial glance, since he strangely appears to have observed Antony through the same spectacles used for Nero, a Nero who belonged to the impressionable years of his youth.

2

Plutarch and the Rex Turned Rana

What was Plutarch’s attitude toward Nero?20 Classical historians have noted Plutarch’s extreme frankness and courage in writing his biographies.21 He did not allow biography to degenerate into an instrument of Imperial propaganda. Nor did he allow the benefactions of the Flavian emperors to Delphi to influence his notably hostile attitude toward these rulers.22 Passages in Plutarch’s Othon and Galbas sometimes cited for the view that Nero had some spark of virtue, in fact, are not convincing.23 Elsewhere, outside of purely technical references, allusions to Nero are universally negative: the massive extermination of his political enemies (Galbas 8), his excessive prodigality (16), actions deserving the fate he received (17), outrages committed by his “sacrilegious” procurators in Spain (4), embarassment caused by his theatrical performances, the murder of his mother and “slaughter of his wife” (14), his debauchery, the seduction of Poppaea, the wife of Crispinus—with a hint she found the emperor sexually disgusting—and, again, the killing of his mother and “wife-sister” (19).24

20

21 22

23

24

See F.E. Brenk, “From Rex to Rana: Plutarch’s Treatment of Nero,” in A. Ceresa-Gastaldo (ed.), Il protagonismo nella storiografia classica (Genoa, 1987) 121–142, for Plutarch’s hatred of Nero. A milder judgment is offered by Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 16–19, 120, and Russel, Plutarch, 2–3. A. Momigliano, The Development of Greek Biography. Four Lectures (Cambridge, Mass., 1971) 99–100. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 25; see also idem, “Towards a Chronology of Plutarch’s Works,” jrs 55 (1966) 61–74 (63–66). [en: J.M. Mossman, “Travel Writing, History, and Biography,” in B. McGing & J. Mossman (eds.), The Limits of Ancient Biography (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2006) 281–303.] [en: A. Anagnostou-Laoutides & M.B. Charles, “Galba in the Bedroom: Sexual Allusions in Suetonius’ Galba,” Latomus 71 (2012) 1077–1087; L. De Blois, “Soldiers and Leaders in Plutarch’s Galba and Otho,” in A. Kriekhaus & H.M. Schellenberg (eds.), A Roman Miscellany: Essays in Honour of A.R. Birley (Gdansk: Foundation for the Development of Gdansk University, 2008) 5–13.] Brenk, “From Rex to Rana,” 126–127. For Plutarch’s Lives of the emperors, see A. Georgiadou, “The Lives of the Caesars and Plutarch’s Other Lives,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 349–356. She notes a great amount of synkrisis already in these Lives.

144

part 2, chapter 1

A passage from the life of Flamininus (12) on the hero’s liberation of Greece, with reference to the later liberation by Nero, is often cited by scholars as expressing admiration for Nero. However, it only relates that both liberations took place at the Isthmian Games. Plutarch may, in fact, be implicitly condemning Nero, contrasting the more modest honors Flamininus received with the extravagant and sacrilegious ones of Nero.25 Besides, the abolition of taxes involved in the liberation may have meant a larger burden on Plutarch and his wealthy friends. Among other negative aspects of Nero’s philhellenism were his failure in Greece to visit either Athens or Eleusis, places dear to Plutarch, and his seizure of treasure from the sanctuaries at Athens, Delphi, Olympia, Thespiai, and Pergamon after the great fire of 64 ad26 Such depredations to pay for his extravagance may have occurred earlier as well. Plutarch himself was not only a priest of the shrine at Delphi, but also its leading propagandist in his day. According to Pausanias (10.7.1), Nero stole five hundred bronze statues of gods and men.27 Passages from the Moralia are more damning: through flattery Nero was degraded to the status of a stage actor, a profligate egged on by Petronius (Quomodo adulator 56e, 60b); an irascible person who smarted at the loss of expensive and irreplaceable objects (De cohibenda ira 462a); a tyrant who deserved to be murdered (De garrulitate 505c). Possibly the most damning statement is in Praecepta gerendae 810a, where Nero is described as hating and fearing Thrasea, yet acknowledging his merits as a judge. Hinting that Nero belonged to those “by nature evil and criminally inclined,” Plutarch records the Emperor’s acknowledgement of Thrasea’s virtue.28

25

26 27 28

On this section see C.B.R. Pelling, “Synkrisis in Plutarch’s Lives,” in Brenk & I. Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea Plutarchea, 83–96 (84–89); S. Swain, “Plutarch’s Philopoemen and Flamininus,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 335–347. Swain notes Plutarch’s realism about Roman liberation (343). [en: J. Raeymaekers, “The Origins of the Rivalry between Philopoemen and Flamininus,” AncSoc 27 (1996) 259–276.] For Plutarch’s interest in Athens see A.J. Podlecki, “Plutarch and Athens,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 231–243. Brenk, “From Rex to Rana,” 128–130. A. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius. The Scholar and his Caesars (London, 1983; New Haven 1984) 142, following B. Mouchavá, notes that Suetonius’ Nero goes from initial liberality, clemency, and geniality (10), to luxury and lust (26–31), then avarice (32) and finally cruelty (33–38). On his extravagance see 167–174, 179. Professor Pelling notes that in Moralia, e.g., Quomodo adulator, 56e, 61a–b, De fortuna Romanorum, 319e–f, Plutarch is notably more negative in similar “one-liners” about Antony than in the more considered verdicts in the Lives.

the neronian background to the life

145

The shadow, or shade, of Thrasea Paetus, thus, indirectly falls over the Antonios. Presumably Plutarch was first influenced by the contradictory combination of artistic philhellenism and sadistic cruelty in Nero, and only later became interested in Antony as a rather remote biographical subject. Plutarch personally knew Nero’s victim and the group keeping his memory alive under Domitianus. His own troubles began as the noose drew around those faithful to the memory of the Stoic saint. On the request of Arulenus Rusticus, a follower of Thrasea, the younger Pliny possibly defended Plutarch’s brother, Timon, who had been summoned to Rome.29 Later, seven persons in a group adhering to the memory of Thrasea were executed or sent into exile. Among them was Arulenus, executed in 93ad. Plutarch himself possibly fled Rome at this time to escape the terror.30 Since he tells us little about these events, we must turn to Tacitus. Plutarch never cites Tacitus in his works and presumably had not read him. However, having links with the circle of Rusticus and Thrasea, he should have had access to similar information, and presumably a similar viewpoint. In Annales 16.21– 25, the Roman historian relates the execution of the Stoic hero: Trucidatis tot insignibus uiris, ad postremum Nero uirtutem ipsam exscindere concupiuit interfecto Thrasea Paeto et Barea Sorano, ohm utriusque infensus, et accedentibus causis in Thraseam, quod senatu egressus est, cum de Agrippina referretur, ut memoraui … After the slaughter of so many distinguished men, Nero finally decided to extirpate virtue herself through the killing of Thrasea Paetus and Barea Soranus—hostile to both from of old; and in the case of Thrasea there were additional reasons, since he had walked out of the senate when Agrippina’s case came up, as I have mentioned …31 16.21.1

Tacitus then explains Thrasea’s constant and fearless provocation of Nero. Among the list of provocations are: his disinterest in the festival of the Iuvenalia, his singing in tragic costume at his native place, Patavium (!), his obtaining 29 30

31

C.P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 24–25. On the Thrasea Paetus affair and Plutarch’s role among his followers, see E. Çizek, L’époque de Néron et ses controverses idéologiques (Leiden, 1972) 64–67, 129, 181–183, 199; M.T. Griffin, Nero. The End of a Dynasty (London, 1984) 165–166; Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 24–25. Text of K. Wellesley, Cornelii Taciti Libri qui supersunt, i.2: Ab Excessu Diui Augusti Libri xi– xvi (Leipzig, 1986).

146

part 2, chapter 1

a milder penalty for a praetor who had written lampoons on Nero, his deliberately absenting himself from the voting of divine honors to Poppaea, Nero’s deceased wife, and not assisting at her funeral.32 In the charge drawn up by Capito, Thrasea is also accused of evading the customary oath, of never offering sacrifice for the welfare of the Emperor or his “celestial voice,” of being a continual opponent and source of faction within the Senate, of condemning religion, and of parading himself as a champion of liberty (16.22). The Annales continue with Thrasea subjected to humiliations or personal suffering before his execution. He is ordered to avoid the reception for Tiridates, who has arrived at Rome to be invested with the kingdom of Armenia. Nero’s convening of the Senate offers an occasion for Tacitus to present two speeches with opposing viewpoints on Thrasea’s next move. Some advise an honorable death rather than perishing in silence like a coward; others stress the ignominy of a Senate provoked to physical violence against him, the folly of attacking Nero for his crimes, the cruelty Nero might exercise on Thrasea’s wife and daughters, and hint at suicide as the best solution (16.25–26). After a touching scene between father and daughter at the trial of a fellow victim, Soranus (16.30–33), there follows the decree of the Senate “according free choice of death” and the arrival of the quaestor at Thrasea’s house. Thrasea is “nearer to joy than sorrow,” since Helvidius, his son-in-law, is only to be exiled. Then, retiring to his bedroom with two friends, he opens his arteries (16.35.1–2): … porrectisque utriusque brachii uenis, postquam cruorem effudit, hu-mum super spargens, pro pius uocato quaestore, “Libamus” inquit “Ioui liberatori. Specta, iuuenis; et omen quidem dii prohibeant, ceterum in ea tempora natus es, quibus firmare animum expediat constantibus exemplis.” post lenitudine exitus graues cruciatus adferente, obuersis in Demetrium … … offered the arteries of both arms, and when the blood had begun to flow, sprinkling it upon the ground, called the quaestor nearer: ‘We are making a libation.’ he declared, to Jupiter the Liberator. Take a look, young man— and may the gods indeed avert the omen—but you are living in times when you must steel your mind with examples of firmness. Afterwards, as the slowness of his departure from life brought excruciating pain, turning his gaze to Demetrius …33

32 33

That Thrasea should have competed in singing is a surprise, and a surprising piece of propaganda. For the historical problems in these passages, see E. Koestermann, Cornelius Taci-

the neronian background to the life

147

At this dramatic point the Mediceus cruelly breaks off leaving posterity without thirty chapters of this book and without the whole of xvii and xviii, including undoubtedly, the death of the villain. The horrible brutality in the Tacitean death scenes of members of the ideological and political resistance to Nero seems light-years away from Plutarch’s restrained comments. But his own closeness to these “subversives” in the formative years of his life undoubtedly left a tremendous impression upon him, engendering for the monster behind these executions, a reaction of contemptible detestation. The impression that Plutarch has a “soft spot” in his heart for Nero because of his benefactions to Greece derives from a passage in De sera (567e–f). Although Plutarch appears to forgive Nero, he may have injected a hidden double meaning. If the text is considered solely in the light of Plato’s Republic, Nero gets off reasonably well. Nonetheless, in the Middle Platonic period Plato’s Timaios was very popular and enjoyed immense prestige. Besides, Plutarch himself wrote an important and original commentary on this work. At the end of the Timaios (91d) Plato describes the origin of different species through reincarnation. The utterly worthless are transformed into marine creatures. The Timaios here apparently expresses a new eschatology, where the individual psychic state automatically determines a place in a world ultimately constituted by four elements.34 The nearest thing to personal intervention in this impersonal scheme is at 92b where “the remoulders” construct water creatures from the most depraved human beings. The transformation of humans into water creatures, moreover, is the result of their utter πλημμέλεια. Originally meaning “out of tune” in a musical sense, the word came to signify mental instability and moral depravity.35 The phrase ὑπ’ ἐμπληξίας καὶ παραφρο-

34

35

tus. Annalen, iv: Buch 14–16 (Heidelberg, 1968) 376–388, 408–409. He sees a decrescendo: with the exitus of Thrasea and Barea Soranus begin the processes for laesa maiestas against lesser luminaries (377); and (16.35.1–2) sees a poetic touch in humum super spargens (Horatius, Epodi, 5.25; Ovidius, Metamorphoses 1.67) (409). See also R.H. Martin, “Structure and Interpretation in the Annals of Tacitus,” anrw ii.33.2 (1990) 1501–1581 (1569–1575), and M. Morford, “Tacitus’ Historical Methods in the Neronian Books of the Annals,” ibidem, 1582–1627 (1598–1601). So T.J. Saunders, “Penology and Eschatology in Plato’s Timaeus and Laws,” cq 23 (1973) 232–244; esp. 234–235, 238, 243–244. [en: F.E. Brenk, “O Sweet Mystery of the Lives!: The Eschatalogical Dimension of Plutarch’s Biographies,” De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 61–73.] Plutarch elsewhere uses the term in a musical sense, but Aristotle for impiety toward the gods (De virtutibus et vitiis 1251a31). Plato (Leges 691a) employs the term to describe kings who “by living ostentatiously in luxury ruin all.”

148

part 2, chapter 1

σύνης (“by his stupidity [or capriciousness] and madness”) used for Nero at the end of Plutarch’s Antonios suggests a similar concept. The mysterious voice of De sera which adjudicates a milder fate for Nero may also belong to a satirical context: Ἔσχατα δὲ ὁρῶντος αὐτοῦ τὰς ἐπὶ δευτέραν γένεσιν τρεπομένας ψυχὰς εἴς τε ζῷα παντοδαπὰ καμπτομένας βίᾳ καὶ μετασχηματιζομένας ὑπὸ τῶν ταῦτα δημιουργούντων, ὀργάνοις τισὶ καὶ πληγαῖς τὰ μὲν κολλώντων μέρη καὶ συνελαυνόντων, τὰ δὲ ἀποστρεφόντων, ἔνια δ’ ἐκλεαινόντων καὶ ἀφανιζόντων παντάπασιν ὅπως ἐφαρμόσειεν ἑτέροις ἤθεσι καὶ βίοις, ἐν ταύταις φανῆναι τὴν Νέρωνος, τά τε ἄλλα κακῶς ἔχουσαν ἤδη καὶ διαπεπαρμένην ἥλοις διαπύροις. προκεχειρισμένων δὲ καὶ ταύτῃ τῶν δημιουργῶν Νικανδρικῆς ἐχίδνης εἶδος, ἐν ᾧ κυηθεῖσαν καὶ διαφαγοῦσαν τὴν μητέρα βιώσεσθαι, φῶς ἔφασκεν ἐξαίφνης διαλάμψαι μέγα καὶ φωνὴν ἐκ τοῦ φωτὸς γενέσθαι προστάττουσαν εἰς ἄλλο γένος ἡμερώτερον μεταβαλεῖν, ᾠδικόν τι μηχανησαμένους περὶ ἕλη καὶ λίμνας ζῷον· ὧν μὲν γὰρ ἠδίκησεν δεδωκέναι δίκας, ὀφείλεσθαι δέ τι καὶ χρηστὸν αὐτῷ παρὰ θεῶν ὅτι τῶν ὑπηκόων τὸ βέλτιστον καὶ θεοφιλέστατον γένος ἠλευθέρωσε [τὴν Ἑλλάδα].36 Viewing the final part of his vision of the souls directed toward a second birth—bent by force into all sorts of living creatures, and turned into different shapes by these crafters, with blows from various tools, drawing and gluing together different members, rejecting some, or rubbing down others almost to the point of disappearance, that they might adapt them to lives of different ethos—he saw among them the soul of Nero, already otherwise in a sorry plight, pierced through with glowing rivets. The craftsmen had manufactured a form for this one, that of Nikandros’ viper, in which once conceived and having eaten through its mother, it was to live. Suddenly a great light flashed, and from the light, a voice commanding them to transfer the soul into a more gentle species, devising instead a singing type, a creature of swamps and ponds. Having paid the penalty for his injustices, he deserved something worthy from the gods, since—among his subjects—to the race best and dearest to the gods, he had given freedom.

36

De sera 567ef Loeb text of De Lacy & Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii, 296–298, with Morel’s conjecture, vs. W.R. Paton, M. Pohlenz, W. Sieving, & I. Wegehaupt (eds.), Plutarchi Moralia iii (Leipzig, 1929, rpt. 1972) 443, which retains Πινδαρικῆς—all the mss. (Pindar, ft. 276)—and the Budé edition of R. Klaerr & Y. Vernière, Plutarque. Œeuvres Morales vii.2

the neronian background to the life

149

The mysterious divine voice recalls a famous decree from Akraiphiai in Boiotia, granting divine honors to Nero. Since Akraiphiai was near to Plutarch’s native Chaironeia, he perhaps was acquainted with the document. In the decree, probably typical of many conferred, Nero, shining upon (ἐπιλάμψας) the Greeks as a new Helios and a Zeus Eleutherios, is extolled for his grant of freedom (ἐλευθερία) to the Greeks.37 In Plutarch’s dialogue, a great light— presumably identifiable with Apollon Helios—shines forth (διαλάμψαι), and in return for the liberty granted the Greeks, the god bestows upon the ex-Neos Helios, ex-Zeus Eleutherios, the form of a frog.

37

(Paris, 1974) 172, which accepts Ziegler’s conjecture Ἰνδικῆς, based on Herodotos, 3.109. This cannot be right, since Herodotus is referring to Arabia in the passage, not India, and the type of viper is found in several countries. H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae ii.2 (Berlin, 1906) 8794 (= H. Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum [3rd ed., Leipzig, 1915–1924] 814): ὁ ἀρχιερεὺς τῶν Σεβαστῶν διὰ βίου καὶ Νέρωνος Κλαυδίου Καίσαρος Σεβαστοῦ Ἐπαμεινώνδας Ἐπαμεινώνδου εἶπεν· προβεβουλευμένον ἑαυτῷ εἶναι πρός τε τὴν βουλὴν καὶ τὸν δῆμον, ἐπιδὴ ὁ τοῦ παντὸς κόσμου κύριος Νέρων, αὐτοκράτωρ μέγιστος, δημαρχικῆς ἐξουσίας τὸ τρισκαιδέκατον ἀποδεδειγμένος, πατὴρ πατρίδος, νέος Ἥλιος ἐπιλάμψας τοῖς Ἕλλησιν, προειρημένος εὐεργετεῖν τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ἀμειβόμενος δὲ καὶ εὐσεβῶν τοὺς θεοὺς ἡμῶν παριστανομένους αὐτῷ πάντοτε ἐπὶ προνοίᾳ καὶ σωτηρίᾳ τὴν ἀπὸ παντὸς τοῦ αἰῶνος αὐθιγενῆ καὶ αὐτόχθονα ἐλευθερίαν πρότερον ἀφαιρεθεῖσαν τῶν Ἑλλήνων εἷς καὶ μόνος τῶν ἀπ’ αἰῶνος αὐτοκράτωρ μέγιστος φιλέλλην γενόμενος [Νέρων] Ζεὺς Ἐλευθέριος ἔδωκεν, ἐχαρίσατο, ἀποκατέστησεν εἰς τὴν ἀρχαιότητα τῆς αὐτονομίας καὶ ἐλευθερίας, προσθεὶς τῇ μεγάλῃ καὶ ἀπροσδοκήτῳ δωρεᾷ καὶ ἀνεισφορίαν, ἣν οὐδεὶς τῶν πρότερον Σεβαστῶν ὁλοτελῆ ἔδωκεν. δι’ ἃ δὴ πάντα δεδογμένον εἶναι τοῖς τε ἄρχουσι καὶ συνέδροις καὶ τῷ δήμῳ καθιερῶσαι μὲν κατὰ τὸ παρὸν τὸν πρὸς τῷ Διὶ τῷ Σωτῆρι βωμόν, ἐπιγράφοντας, Διὶ Ἐλευθερίῳ [Νέρων]ι εἰς αἰῶνα, καὶ ἀγάλματα ἐν τῷ ναῷ τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος τοῦ Πτωΐου συνκαθειδρύοντας τοῖς [ἡμῶν] πατρίοις θεοῖς [Νέρωνος] Διὸς Ἐλευθερίου καὶ Θεᾶς Σεβαστῆς [Μεσσαλίνης], ἵνα τούτων οὕτως τελεσθέντων καὶ ἡ ἡμετέρα πόλις φαίνηται πᾶσαν τειμὴν καὶ εὐσέβειαν ἐκπεπληρωκυῖα εἰς τὸν τοῦ κυρίου Σεβαστοῦ [Νέρωνος οἶκον]. εἶναι δὲ ἐν ἀναγραφῇ τὸ ψήφισμα παρά τε τῷ Διὶ τῷ Σωτῆρι ἐν τῇ ἀγορᾷ ἐν στήλῃ καὶ ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος τοῦ Πτωΐου. Translations in D.C. Braund, Augustus to Nero: A Sourcebook on Roman History 31 bc–ad 68 (London, 1985) 102–103, and E.M. Smallwood, Documents Illustrating the Principates of Gaius, Claudius and Nero (Cambridge, 1967) 64. Discussed by S.R.F. Price, “Gods and Emperors: The Greek Language of the Roman Imperial Cult,” jhs 104 (1984) 79–95 (82–83 and note 37), who also gives a translation. S.R.F. Price, Rituals and Power. The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1984) 115–116—modifying somewhat G.W. Bowersock, “Greek Intellectuals and the Imperial Cult in the Second Century ad,” in W. den Boer (ed.), Le culte des souverains dans l’ Empire Romain. Entretiens sur l’ Antiquité Classique 19 (VandœuvresGeneva, 1973) 179–206. Price argues that Plutarch was antagonistic toward the imperial cult (116); so also, F. Millar, “Discussion,” in Den Boer, Le culte des souverains (207). D. Fishwick, “Votive Offerings to the Emperor?,” zpe 80 (1990) 121–130, notes, vs. Price, that the evidence for votive offerings to a living emperor is dubious.

150

part 2, chapter 1

Some of the humor of Plutarch’s dialogue may depend upon Nero’s assimilation to Apollo.38 In Nero’s triumph, that is, a musical one on returning from Greece, he entered the Circus Maximus in a chariot used for Augustus’ triumphs. Wearing a purple robe and a Greek chlamys adorned with stars of gold, he bore on his head the Olympic crown, while holding in his right hand the Pythian one. After passing through the place where the arch of the Circus Maximus had been demolished to provide room, he proceeded to the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine. There, he placed sacred crowns on the couches of his bedchamber and on statues representing him in the guise of a lyre player (Suetonius, Nero 25). The assimilation to Apollon Citharoedus, Apollo the lyre player, seems unmistakable. The crown of stars, on the other hand, suggests an assimilation to a celestial Apollon Helios, Apollo the Sun God.39 There could be a sinister double meaning as well in Nero’s non-transformation into a viper. The viper reincarnation is rightly understood as an allusion to Nero’s assassination of his mother, Agrippina. Overtly, the viper transformation 38

39

The satirical context has affinities with the Senecan Apocolocyntosis, the title of which plays on “apotheosis.” Besides Claudius’ pretensions to divinity, his venality and cruelty are attacked; Cf. M.T. Griffin, Seneca. A Philosopher in Politics (Oxford, 1976) 130; J.P. Sullivan, Literature and Politics in the Age of Nero (Ithaca, 1985) 48–55. In the work (4.1) Apollo, speaking of Nero, proclaims: … uincat mortalis tempora uitae / ille mihi similis uultu, similisque decore / nec cantu nec uoce minor / … flagrat nitidus fulgure remisso / uultus … Sullivan dismisses attempts to deny the work’s authenticity (48, note 62); on which also see K. Abel, “Seneca: Leben und Leistung,” in anrw ii.32.2 (1985) 653–775 (726–728) and K. Bringmann, “Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis: Ein Forschungsbericht 1959–1982,” ibid. 885–914. On Nero as Apollo Citharoedus, see Griffin, Nero, 120–121, 149, 163, and A. Bélis, “Néron musician,” crai (1989) 747–763. Following J. Irigoin, Bélis believes the famous qualis artifex pereo was said in Greek, οἷος τεχνίτης … (i.e. Dionysos) (the first part of an iambic trimeter) (764). She is enthusiastic about Cassius Dio’s observation (63.28.4–5) that Nero began to live the monstrosities of matricide, infanticide, and the like, which previously had only been theatrical fantasies; and she observes that his own death was a mise en scène presented for his friends (763). B.E. Levy, “Nero’s ‘Apollonia’ Series: the Achaean Context,” nc 149 (1989) 59–68, notes that on coins issued after the liberation of Greece representing him as the patron of the whole of Hellas, Nero is called Neron Apollon Ktistes (59, coin no. 85, plate 18). The games were held to honor him as a benefactor, while the coins represent him as interested in the federal institutions of Achaia (66–68). At Aphrodisias, he is linked with Helios (Griffin, Nero 216; J. Reynolds, “New Evidence for the Imperial Cult in Julio-Claudian Aphrodisias,” zpe 43 [1981] 317–327 [324, no. 9, plate xii d]). In the inscription (1st ad) he is not exactly identified with Helios, but his name, column a (νερων κλαυδιοσ δρουσοσ καισαρ σεβαστοσ), accompanies the god’s name, column b (ηλιοσ), with which, presumably, a relief was associated. After Nero’s fall in 68 ad the still legible νερων was erased.

the neronian background to the life

151

would enact a fitting punishment for Nero, since the mother viper is supposedly destroyed by her offspring, who eat their way out of her pregnant womb.40 But Plutarch may have Plato’s Laws in mind. There (870d–e), “according to the mysteries” vengeance is enacted in Hades, but in reincarnation also “the natural penalty” must be paid. The matricide must return to earth as a female to be slain by “his” own children, since “for the pollution of common blood there is no other purification” (872c–873a).41 In the light of the Laws passage, Nero, entering the underworld, faces Dante’s “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate” (“Abandon all hope, you who enter here.”) (Inferno iii.9). For all eternity he will be denied the possibility of obliterating the pollution—the miasma, the “damned spot” of matricide clinging to his soul.

3

Nero and Antonius Omestes

Antony’s entry into Ephesos (24) may be influenced by the more immediate events of the reign of Nero, though with a difference. Antony’s arrival at the capital of Asia is set in a Bacchic thiasos of pageantry, music, and feasting, similar to the accounts of Nero’s own entertainments in Rome and travels abroad, especially in Greece. The double nature of Nero as both generous and predatory is suggested in the description of Antony as not only Dionysos Meilichios and Charidotes (Beneficent and Giver of Joy) but also Omestes and Agrionios (Carnivorous and Savage). Then Plutarch digresses on the dangers of flattery, which left the hero a victim of opportunists: he could not believe that those insulting him in jest, were actually corrupting him in earnest, removing from flattery its insipid nature by injecting frankness, like a touch of tartar sauce. The words recall Quomodo adulator 56e (and 60b), where Antony and Nero are treated similarly: … [flattery] subverted and destroyed the character of the Romans then, extenuating Antonius’ displays of luxury, lust, and ostentation, as ‘good40 41

Nikandros 132–135; just before, the female tears the male’s head off after mating; A.S.F. Gow & A.F. Schofield, Nicander. The Poems and Poetical Fragments (Cambridge, 1953) 36–37. Pointed out by P. Cosenza, “Reati contro parenti e sangue familiare nelle Leggi di Platone,” in F. Vattoni (ed.), Sangue e Antropologia nella liturgia. Atti della iv Settimana di Studi (Rome, 1984) 1–17 (9–10). Professor Pelling suggests that Plutarch may have intended the “gentler punishment” of Nero’s frog transformation to satisfy the more rigorous demands for expiation found in the Laws passage.

152

part 2, chapter 1

hearted and philanthropic actions due to his generous treatment at the hands of power and fortune’ … What else placed Nero on a tragic stage and provided him with mask and high shoes? Was it not flatterers’ praise? In the second passage (60b) frank speech and criticism are more damnable. Its practitioners are the most unscrupulous of flatterers. Surrendering to such flattery is considered Heraklean and Dionysian, since Herakles enjoyed the company of the Kerkopes, and Dionysos the Silenoi. Even more serious is flattery that encourages a person’s vicious tendencies; so Petronius egged on Nero’s profligacy by accusing him of being niggardly and cheap. Nothing in the life of Antonios suggests that the hero was guilty of Nero’s excesses in receiving divine honors. In fact, though, Nero, compared with other emperors, was not excessive in this regard.42 Still the attack on divine honors in Demetrios may reflect some vague association in Plutarch’s mind between Demetrios, Antony, and Nero.43 Indeed, many of Plutarch’s harshest attacks on ruler cult appear in Demetrios. Ultimately they are based on hostile sources.44 Still, their inclusion may reflect personal antagonism toward excesses of the Neronian period. One of the Julio-Claudians most notorious in this respect was

42

43

44

According to Griffin, Nero, 215–220, Nero introduced no important innovations, in the beginning refused gold and silver statues of himself in Rome, and rejected excessive honors in Egypt (Tacitus, Annales, 13.10), and as late as 65 ad refused a temple to Divus Nero in Rome (Tacitus, Annales 13.10; Suetonius, Augustus, 52; Cassius Dio 51.20.8). The famous gilded statue, near the later Colosseum, apparently was a portrait statue, not of Nero-SolHelios (Suetonius, Nero, 31; Pliny, nh 34.45; Suetonius, Vespasianus, 8; Cassius Dio 66.15.1). On some late coins Nero appears with a radiate crown, and he was called Neos Helios in some Greek inscriptions: F. Leroux, Inscriptiones Graecae ad Res Romanas pertinentes (Paris, 1906–1927) iii.345 (= Smallwood, no. 146), Sagalassos in Pamphylia; A.G. Woodhead et al., seg xviii (1962) 566: Prostanna; H. Dessau, ils 8794: Boiotia (Griffin, Nero, 216, 218). The radiate crown was worn by Gaius as part of his Apollo costume. But until Nero the crown had been associated with Sol and had only adorned one deified Princeps (Augustus). Only two gold and silver coin types—minted at Rome—however, show him with the radiate crown, both dated to 65 ad. See C.H.V. Sutherland & R.A.G. Carson (eds.), The Roman Imperial Coinage i (2nd ed., London, 1984) nos. 44, 46 (Griffin, Nero, 217–218). See also S. Weinstock, Divus Julius (Oxford, 1971) 381–384. A. Dihle, Die Entstehung der historischen Biographie (Heidelberg, 1987) 56, notes that Hellenistic rulers in their epoch had entered a sacral, superhuman sphere, which later readers would naturally reinterpret in the light of the Imperial cult. On the windfall brought Plutarch because of the tendentious nature of his sources, see T.W. Hillard, “Plutarch’s Late-Republican Lives: Between the Lines,” Antichthon 21 (1987) 19–48 (47).

the neronian background to the life

153

Gaius, who even if the conjecture “madly” (ruling) is not correct, seems roundly condemned at the termination of the Antonios. Demetrios 10 contains Plutarch’s condemnation of the extravagant honors awarded Demetrios and Antigonos.45 These awards supposedly are deliberately exaggerated by the Athenians to make the rulers more odious. Antigonos and his son are called Savior Gods (Soteres), and a priesthood is established for them, with the year dated by their rule. Their figures are woven into the sacred peplos of Athena for the Panathenaic festival, an altar is erected where Demetrios first alighted from his chariot, and two demes (phylai) are named in their honor.46 In 12, Demetrios is condemned for changing the month Mounychion to Demetrion, and the Dionysia to the Demetria. Apparently as a sign of divine condemnation—derived from a hostile source—the peplos with their figures embroidered into it was rent by a hurricane, the soil teemed with hemlock around the altars of the Soteres, and it was frosty at the Dionysia. Worst of all—according to the parallel biographer—the Athenians were to obtain an oracle from Demetrios to determine the dedication of the sacred shields at Delphi. Not unpredictably, the man who proposed these honors later went mad.47

45

46

47

The whole matter is treated in great detail by K. Scott, “The Deification of Demetrios Poliorcetes,” AJPh 49 (1928) 137–166, 217–239; and by I. Kertész, “Bemerkungen zum Kult des Demetrius Poliorketes,” Oikumene 2 (1978) 163–175. Kertész notes that Athena Promachos appeared on Demetrios’ coins, that Athena Alkis was a protective divinity of the Macedonian royal house, and that many of Demetrios’ soldiers were Athenians (166– 167). The hostile propaganda obscures the positive effects of Demetrios’ overtures toward Athens. See Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 142–155, on these matters. They note (145, note 70) that the epigraphic documentation—vs. Plutarch—mentions Antigonos and Demetrios not as Θεοὶ Σωτῆρες but rather only as Σωτῆρες, citing L. Moretti, Iscrizioni storiche ellenistiche (Florence, 1967–1975) i.5, lines 16–21. [en: A.V. Zadorojnyi, “Sappho and Plato in Plutarch, Demetrius 38,” in A. Pérez Jiménez (ed.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles (Madrid, 1999) 515–532; M. Monaco, “Folly and dark humor in the Life of Demetrius,” Ploutarchos 9 (2011–2012) 49–59; idem, “The bema and the Stage: Stratocles and Philippides in Plutarch’s Demetrius,” ics 38 (2013) 113–126; G.W.M. Harrison, “Plutarch the Dramaturg [Sic]: Statecraft as Stagecraft in the Lives,” De Blois et al. (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 53–59.] See Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 149–153, for slight errors in Plutarch’s account here. De fortuna Alexandros 338a also mentions the incident of the sacred embassy (theoria) to Demetrios. E. Capellano, Il fattore politico negli onori divini a Demetrio Poliorcete (Turin, 1954) 33–35, notes that Demetrios’ coinage flourishes at this time. She suspects a link between Bacchos, Iacchos, and Eleusis, as important for Demetrios, but notes that ref-

154

part 2, chapter 1

In chapter 30 Plutarch again attacks Demetrios for receiving divine honors. After the defeat at Ipsos (301 bc), he flees to Ephesos, where Plutarch seems surprised that Demetrios not only refrained from plundering the temple treasury, but hastening on prevented the troops from doing so. Then, as Demetrios sails near the Kyklades, an Athenian embassy arrives beseeching him not to approach the city. At this point Plutarch attacks the hypocrisy involved in bestowing divine honors, claiming that if granted through fear, they have no real value. Rather, in his view, men should first judge their own achievements and then decide on the value of receiving divine honors (ἀποθεώσεις, 7)— whether they are genuinely offered, or only granted through compulsion, since frequently a city despises the very ones upon whom it lavishes honors. In 25 Demetrios’ journeys to the Peloponnesos, where he presides over the games at Argos, changes the name of Sikyon to Demetrias, and at the Isthmus of Corinth calls a general assembly at which he is proclaimed “Leader” (Ἡγεμών, 4) of the Greeks. Plutarch condemns him even for taking the title, king, and refusing it to others, while Alexander refused the title “King of Kings,” and called others “king.” In chapter 8, Demetrios proclaims the liberation of the Greeks, foreshadowing Flaminius, and, naturally, Nero.48 Here Plutarch, naively ignorant of the politics of Hellenistic monarchs, could have been slavishly following a proDemetrian source, or possibly he simply wished to offer a dubious but good model for contemporary and future Roman emperors. However, elsewhere he comments on the ambiguous nature of philotimia, which can produce results either splendid or catastrophic. The passion for glory (philotimia) won by the liberation of Halikarnassos supposedly inspires Antigonos and Demetrios with a “wonderful eagerness” to liberate Greece, reduced to subjection by Kassandros and Ptolemaios:

48

erences to Hellenistic monarchs venerated as Dionysos at Athens are late and in Roman authors. In contrast, Demetrios clearly assimilated himself to Poseidon and Helios (33– 37). On the “ingratitude” of the Athenians, see C. Habicht, Gottmenschentum und griechische Städte (Munich, 1956) 187–189, who notes that Kataibates (alighting) suggests an assimilation to Zeus (50). Flamininus 10–12, De sera 567ef; see Flacelière & Chambry, Plutarque. Vies xiii, 3; cf. Pelling, “Synkrisis,” 84–88. Professor Pelling sees the possibility of inner contradiction: excessive honors (timai) corrupt the “love of honor” (philotimia). [en: R. Feig Vishnia, “A Case of ‘Bad Press’?: Gaius Flaminius in Ancient Historiography,” zpe 181 (2012) 27–45.]

the neronian background to the life

155

… τούτου πόλεμον οὐδεὶς ἐπολέμησε τῶν βασιλέων καλλίω καὶ δικαιότερον· ἃς γὰρ ἅμα τοὺς βαρβάρους ταπεινοῦντες εὐπορίας συνήγαγον, εἰς τοὺς Ἕλληνας ὑπὲρ εὐδοξίας καὶ τιμῆς ἀνήλισκον. No Hellenistic king ever waged a more just war. The treasures amassed by subduing barbarians were now lavishly spent upon the Greeks to win repute and honor. 8.2–3

But like Flamininus and Nero, Demetrios allows his good intentions to be spoiled by the divine honors he expropriates to himself. Here Plutarch hides behind the satirical verses of Philippides, in which the bestowing of divine honors upon men, such as the impious ones for Demetrios and Antigonos, is responsible for the frost and the fierce wind which rent the Panathenaic robe (12.7).49 Another link with Nero’s career is Demetrios’ desire to be initiated into the mysteries. Nero, however, apparently did not visit Eleusis. The hostile tradition reported in Suetonius (Nero 34) attributes his absence to the murder of Agrippina, which rendered him unworthy.50 According to Plutarch (26), as Demetrios was getting ready to return to Athens, he wrote letters in advance indicating his desire to be initiated into all the grades at Eleusis. This was not lawful; and, besides, according to Plutarch, the lesser rites were performed in the month Anthesterion, the great rites in Boëdromion, and the final rites, the Epoptika celebrated a year after the Greater Mysteries. On the motion of Stratokles, then, the current month Mounychion is changed into Anthesterion, and the lesser rites at Agra are performed for Demetrios, after which Mounychion became Boëdromion instead of Anthesterion. Demetrios thus receives the remaining rites and is admitted to the highest grade, epoptos.51

49 50

51

See Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 152–153, for the epigraphic documentation. Cf. K. Clinton, “The Eleusinian Mysteries: Roman Initiates and Benefactors, Second Century bc to ad 267,” anrw ii.18.2 (1989) 1499–1539 (1514). K.R. Bradley, Suetonius’ Life of Nero (Brussels, 1978) 206, notes that supposedly for the same reason, Nero did not visit Athens or Sparta (Cassius Dio 63.14.3), though the sites have produced representations of him there, citing C.C. Vermeule, Roman Imperial Art in Greece and Asia Minor (Cambridge, Mass., 1968) 209–211. See Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 186–188. Philochoros (F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker i [Berlin / Leiden, 1923] 328, f 69–70), criticized the procedure as sacrilege; but Diodoros (20.110.1) defended it because of Demetrios’ benefactions.

156

part 2, chapter 1

In chapter 45 Plutarch continues his mockery of Demetrios’ pretensions. Demetrios, having fallen from power, flees to Kassandreia. His wife, Phila, unable to bear his disgrace, drinks poison and dies.52 He then visits Athens in private dress, where a wit applies to him the verses of Euripides—hinting perhaps at Dionysian pretensions: μορφὴν ἀμείψας ἐκ θεοῦ βροτησίαν πάρεστι Δίρκης νάματ’ Ἰσμηνοῦ θ’ ὕδωρ· The form exchanging from god to mortal, Visits Dirke’s streams and Ismenos’ water. Bacchai 4–5, with adaptation by plutarch53 Nero’s own interference in religious ritual, though, was of a milder type. Besides introducing the Neronia at Rome, in Greece he tampered with the traditional competitions at the religious festivals. All, even those widely separated in time, were condensed into a single year, so he could compete in each; and, contrary to custom, he introduced a musical contest at Olympia. He also removed the statues and busts of former victors (Suetonius, Nero 23–24).54 Apparently Nero’s benefactions to Greece, real or promised, never overrode Plutarch’s detestation for the emperor. For Plutarch he remains, as a paradigm of the worst excesses of the human spirit, a tyrant who deserved to be assas-

52

53

54

For the historical reality, see the very thorough discussion of G. Marasco, “Introduzione alla biografia plutarchea di Demetrio,” Sileno 7 (1981) 35–70 and Sileno 9 (1983) 35–54, who regards Plutarch in general as credible, but influenced by distorted sources ([1981] 46–49; [1983] 48, 50–52). At stake are the decree of Stratokles, the liberation of Greece, the priest of the Soteres replacing the eponymous archon, the change of the months, the Demetria, soap for Lamia, and the initiation at Eleusis. μορφὴν δ’ ἀμείψας ἐκ θεοῦ βροτησίαν / πάρειμι Δίρκης νάματ’ Ἰσμηνοῦ θ’ ὕδωρ. E.C. Kopff, Euripides. Bacchae (Leipzig, 1982) 3, seems to misunderstand Plutarch’s change. Ziegler unnecessarily makes Plutarch’s text deviate (νάμαθ’ Ἱσμηνοῦ) from that of Euripides. P. Carrara, “Plutarco ed Euripide: Alcune considerazioni sulle citazioni euripidee in Plutarco (De aud. poet.),” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 447–455, attributes such citations to Plutarch’s schoolboy memorization (450). Conveniently, he cites from the beginning of the play. See Griffin, Nero, 210–211; Brenk, “From Rex to Rana,” 129–130. Nero made a grant of 400,000 sesterces to Delphi, but after the fire in Rome (64ad) confiscated temple treasure there and elsewhere, expropriated temple lands, and despoiled the shrine of 500 bronze statues (Pausanias 10.7.1; cf. 10.19.2). As a priest at Delphoi, Plutarch should have been sensitive about these depredations.

the neronian background to the life

157

sinated.55 Plutarch’s expansive style and customary generosity toward his subjects, however, conceals his repulsion. He seems to paint, in the luminous colors of a fresco, atrocities whose horror deserves the chiaroscuric tones of Tacitus’ Annales.

4

Vice Inherited: The Rotten Tree

The Nerogonia, which terminates the Antonios, hints at the theory of inherited vice, but strictly speaking does not directly attribute the vice of the ultimate descendant to the ancestor and hero of the Life. Still, what use are genealogies unless they presume the transmission of genes of greatness—heroism, grandeur, and at least the possibility of great achievement—or depravity? Pindar underscores such aspects again and again. Among the Roman Scipiones, the untimely death of a young scion is doubly tragic, since ancestry would have guaranteed great accomplishments. Inherited virtue or vice is fundamental to some of Plutarch’s moral theology, at least in the sense of inherited propensities.56 By introducing different speakers and opinions, he sometimes distances himself from a particular solution. In De sera, though, as a priest of the Delphic Apollon, he is the principal speaker. The logic and justice of inherited punishment is based on the solidarity of city or family.57 Members of a “bad or wicked line” should be punished (ἐκ κακῶν γεγονότες ἢ πονηρῶν, 558b), since descendants, of a worthy ancestor are honored (558b). A city, like a living organism, should be treated as an entity (559a). Even more should a family be treated so, “deriving … from a single origin which reproduces in the members a certain force and mutual characteristic pervading them all” … (559c). Such moral generalizations are illustrated with the example of a forewarned physician treating a son for a malady which caused his father’s death (561d). No one expects scorpions not to have stings nor snakes venom; so is there nothing extraordinary in vice being inherited (562cd). Finally not all: τὰ τῶν τεκόντων σφάλματ’ εἰς τοὺς ἐγγόνους … “the parents’ transgressions onto the offspring [the gods turn …]” (556e). Sometimes “out of a scoundrel is born 55 56

57

De garrulitate 505c, Galbas 1; see Jones, Plutarch and Rome, 19. See, for example, F.E. Brenk, In Mist Apparelled, 26, 160, 256–275, 269; idem, “The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” this volume, above pages 5–129, esp. 64–65, 110– 113. [en: M. Briones Artacho, “Vida de Aristides: aproximaciones a la idea de justicia,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Misticismo y religiones mistéricas en Plutarco, 337– 344.]

158

part 2, chapter 1

a worthy man,” “adopted out of vice” supposedly, but, if not, he deserves to pay the debts of an inherited estate (562f).58 Perhaps the discussion about inherited vice in a vague way reflects the importance of dynastic descent in the Julio-Claudian line and the shock caused by the extermination of the line.59 Though evidently written after 81 ad, the dramatic date is eleven years after Nero’s fall; for the Sibyl forecasts the eruption of Vesuvius (August 24th–26th, 79ad) (566e). A further reference to the gentle death of a good emperor would put the dramatic date between the 24th of June and the 24th–26th of August, 79ad60 In the period between Nero’s death and writing the dialogue, Plutarch had ample time to mull over the dynastic weakness in the Julio-Claudian line. The stress placed upon inherited vice in the dialogue, and the prominence of Nero within the eschatological scene suggests an association between the two. The strong hint of inherited vice coursing through the Julio-Claudian veins in spite of worthy specimens links the Antonios with the theological context of De sera. But what vice did Antony transmit to Nero? Taking a hint from Einstein’s theory of relativity, we should play the Antonios backwards from Nero to Antony, or more exactly, from Plutarch’s experience of the Neronian period back to his research on Antony. What passages in the Life seem influenced by his experiences of the Neronian period and his reading of Neronian historians? Plutarch was somewhat constrained by using Antony’s assimilation to Dionysos as a

58

59

60

A. Nauck, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (2nd ed.; Leipzig, 1889; rpt. with Supplementum, B. Snell, Hildesheim, 1964) Euripides, fr. 980, identified at 556e as Euripidean. “Adopted out of vice” (562) is a conjecture: οἷον ἐκποίητος (Victorius according to De Lacy & Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii, 266; Bachet de Méziriac according to Paton et al., Plutarchi Moralia iii, 431), for the mss. ἐκ ποιότητος. [en: J.H. Lane, The Political Life and Virtue: A Reconsideration of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives (Diss., Boston College, 1998); E. Alexiou, “Parallelität und die moralischen Ziele Plutarchs: Coriolanus und Alkibiades,” Hermes 127 (1999) 61–74; D.H.J. Larmour, “Statesman and Self in the Parallel Lives,” in De Blois et al. (eds.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 43–51; T.E. Duff, Plutarch’s Lives: Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford: Clarendon Pr, 1999); idem, “Plutarch’s Readers and the Moralism of the Lives,” Ploutarchos 5 (2008) 3–18; see also the volume edited by Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society with the following papers: F. Becchi, “Virtù e fortuna nelle Vitae e nei Moralia di Plutarco,” 39–52; P. Carrara, “I poeti tragici maestri di virtù nelle opere di Plutarco,” 65–74; M. do C. Fialho, “From Flower to Chameleon: Values and Counter-Values in Alcibiades’Life,” 108– 116; R. Giannattasio Andria, “La philia tra Moralia e Vitae,” 137–153; L. van Hoof, “Plutarch on (un)sociable Talk: Ethics and Etiquette?,” 209–232; P. Volpe Cacciatore, “Il concetto di δικαιοσύνη negli Opuscoli contro gli Stoici,” 233–242.] See De Lacy & Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii, 173–174.

the neronian background to the life

159

guiding thread in the Life. Nero was more the incarnation of Apollon, Helios, or Zeus, than Dionysos. Still his famous tragic performances belong to the intimate domain of Dionysos. Like Dionysos, Nero was basically non-military, artistic, and, moreover, well-educated, and, arguably, refined, compared with the rather rough-and-tough Antony, a soldier, whose Dionysian activities were to be portrayed as more oinological than thespian. The more refined, or degenerate, Dionysian traits suit Nero better than Antony. Nonetheless, oscillations between military hardship and real or imagined submission to effete luxury allowed the Dionysos assimilation to be used for Antony. Undoubtedly, vicious propaganda and the mythological archetype of an Ares-Mars seduced by an Aphrodite-Venus, now realized in Antony and Kleopatra, helped fix the analogy in the popular mind. Antony’s assimilation to Nero is suggested in the emphasis on extravagance, drinking, and womanizing in Antonios. The triumvir’s grandfather, Antony Creticus, the orator, is kindly, honest, and generous (1).61 Antony’s extravagance and generosity, however, are sometimes tinged with cruelty. In chapter 2 Plutarch notes a lack of restraint in drinking bouts, sexual pleasure, and extravagant expenditures (εἰς πότους καὶ γύναια καὶ δαπάνας πολυτελεῖς, 2.4). These traits are combined with demagoguery, the Asiatic style in oratory, and a “swashbuckling and boastful life, full of empty exultation and distorted ambition.” There is method in his madness, however, since his excesses make him popular among the troops (4). Nero’s political base depended on something similar (for example, Suetonius, Nero, 10–13).62 Chapter 9 continues this type of 61

62

Pelling, Life of Antony, 117, notes that unlike Plutarch, who seems to be using a technique of linking father to son, other sources depict M. Antonius Creticus as avaricious (Sallustius, Historiae 3.3; Cicero, Verres 2.3.213–217). As S. Swain, “Character Change in Plutarch,” Phoenix 43 (1989) 61–68, analyzes Plutarch’s thought, heredity is extremely important, but one cannot predict entirely from heredity how a person’s character will develop; “environment”—change of birth, background, circumstances, luck—can either altogether cancel the inherited trait, or make it difficult to recognize for a long time (e. g., De sera 559bc, 562b). [en: D.R. Shipley, A Commentary on Plutarch’s Life of Agesilaos: Response to Sources in the Presentation of Character (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Pr, 1997); E. Almagor, “Hold your Horses: Characterization through Animals in Plutarch’s Artaxerxes 1,” Ploutarchos 7 (2009–2010) 3–21; idem, “Hold your Horses: Characterization through Animals in Plutarch’s Artaxerxes 2,” Ploutarchos 11 (2014) 3–18; on which C. Von Binder, Plutarchs Vita des Artaxerxes: ein historischer Kommentar (Berlin, 2008); J.M. Mossman, “A Life Unparalleled: Artaxerxes,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 145–168.] However, Nero was not the military man that Antony was. Griffin, Nero, 221–234, outlines Nero’s need for military accomplishments and his designs in this respect before his death.

160

part 2, chapter 1

characterization: drinking, heavy expenditures, debauches with women, sleeping by day and revelling by night, followed by the customary after-effects, even to vomiting in his toga while conducting public business, and time wasted at entertainments and the parties of mime actors and jesters. An actress, Cytheris, becomes his constant companion, travelling around with him in a litter to various cities.63 In his excursions golden beakers are borne before him, as though in a sacred procession, while tents are erected and costly repasts served in groves and beside rivers. Chariots drawn by lions become his means of transportation and honest men’s houses are requisitioned for entertainments performed by sambuca players and the dregs of society.64 In 23, though, we find a somewhat reformed hero, with some distinctively Neronian traits. He now listens to literary discussions, becomes a spectator not only at games but at religious rites as well, and is prudent in his judicial decisions. One might recall Nero’s literary interests, his participation as a spectator in the games, some of his religious activities, and at least in his early career, in judicial procedures. Moreover, like Nero later, Antony is described as a philhellene, more precisely, a philathenian, and he plans to rebuild the temple of Apollon Pythios at Delphi.65 But the philhellenic excesses of this Nero rediuiuus are condemned immediately after. At his famous entry into Asia and Ephesos, the positive aspects give way to dissolution, womanizing, and association with low characters. Despoil-

63

64

65

Stage name of the freedwoman, Volumnia, and in a late, and dubious, tradition associated with Lycoris for whom Gallus wrote his elegies (Pelling, Life of Antony, 139). For this interesting woman (and period), see Nisbet’s account, in R.D. Anderson, P.J. Parsons, & R.G.M. Nisbet, “Elegiacs by Gallus from Qaṣr Ibrîm,” jrs 69 (1979) 125–155 (151–155). Pelling, Life of Antony, 139, notes that in 43–42 bc, Antony’s coin types represent lions, citing M.H. Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage (Cambridge, 1974) 489.5–6 and 533.1; comment, ii, 740, note 1. Plutarch possibly chose the lion chariot image to enhance the later associations with Dionysos, as in the entry to Ephesos (24). For the iconography see C. Gasparri, “Dionysos/Bacchus,” in L. Kahil et al. (eds.), Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae iii.1 and iii.2 (Zurich / Munich, 1986) iii.1, 540–566, iii.2, 428– 456; iii.1, 551, 558; iii.2 fig. 245 = 133 = 142 (Baltimore, Walters Art Gallery 23.31, Tomb of Pisones); Cf. R. Turcan, Les sarcophages romains à représentations dionysiaques. Essai de chronologie et d’histoire religieuse (Paris, 1966) 224–225. The Indian triumph is represented with animals which look like female lions, or lion-like panthers (“tigri”—Gasparri), pulling the chariot of Dionysos. Griffin, Nero, 44–45. Plutarch simply writes “the temple of Apollon Pythios.” Flacelière and Chambry, Plutarque. Vies xiii, 216, and Griffin, understand a temple at Athens, while Jones, “Towards a Chronology,” 65, suggests Megara as a possibility; but Pelling, Life of Antony, 176, argues convincingly that Delphoi is meant; Cf. Andrei & Scuderi Demetrio, 60–61.

the neronian background to the life

161

ing many persons of their property, he becomes Dionysos Giver of Joy and Beneficent (Charidotes and Meilichios) to some, but to most, Carnivorous and Savage (Omestes and Agrionios) (24.5).66 In 27 in Kilikia, Antony tries to surpass Kleopatra in the splendor and elegance of his banquets. At Alexandria he becomes famous for extravagant dinners, squandering time in an association called the “Inimitable Livers” (Ἀμιμητόβιοι), with “expenditures of unbelievable profusion” (28.2–3). Nero’s dinners as depicted in Suetonius’ Life, and Trimalchio’s grotesque imitation in the pages of Petronius’ Satyrica come to mind. Chapter 53 digresses on Antony’s marital problems, torn between wife and mistress, a matter which occupied the biographers of Nero. Antony’s disrespectful treatment of Octavia, because of his infatuation with Kleopatra, reflects Octavia’s treatment by Nero, who preferred Poppaea, although she was already married to Otho. Antony’s benefactions to the technitai of Dionysos at Priene, and his enjoyment of athletics and the theater at Athens also forge a link with Nero’s philhellenism (57).67 66

67

Appianus, Bell. Civ. 5.4.15, only records a sacrifice to the Ephesian Artemis; possibly Plutarch was anticipating the Dionysiac identification (Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 62). On the contradictory aspects of Zeus Meilichios and of Dionysos, see R. Parker, “Festivals of the Attic Demes,” in T. Linders & G. Nordquist (eds.), Gifts to the Gods. Uppsala Studies in Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Civilizations 15 (Uppsala, 1987) 137–147 (140); M. Jameson, “Notes on the Sacrificial Calendar from Erchia,” bch 89 (1965) 154–172 (159– 166); B. Einarson & P.H. De Lacy, Plutarch’s Moralia. xiv (London, 1967) 120–121; C. Segal, Dionysiac Poetics and Euripides’ Bacchae (Princeton, 1982) 183–184; M. Detienne, Dionysos en ses parousies: un dieu épidémique, in L’association dionysiaque dans les sociétés anciennes (Paris / Rome, 1986) 53–83 (74); E. Valgiglio, Divinità e religione in Plutarco (Genoa, 1988) (26, 177); Forni, La fortuna dei Romani, 120, note 89. Plutarch generally uses μειλίχιος only in a positive way, but in De superstitione 166de and Theseus 12 there is a hint of the dread aspects of Zeus Meilichios. In Quaest. conv. (613d) the Nymphs introduce Dionysos “as kind and gentle to our bodies;” the Muses present him “as Meilichios and Charidotes to our souls.” Besides Theseus 12 and the Antonios passage in the Lives, the term appears in De superstitione 166de, Quaest. Rom. 281e, De fortuna Rom. 322f; De Iside 370cd; De defectu 417c; Quaest. conv. 613d; 692e; De esu carn. 994a; and Non posse 1102e— for a number of gods, but most frequently for Dionysos. S. Swain, “Cultural Interchange in Plutarch’s Antony,” quuc 34 (1990) 151–157, notes that elsewhere in Plutarch Dionysos Omestes is always associated with human sacrifice (citing Themist. 13.3; Arist. 9.2; Quaest. Graec. 299f); and that Plutarch pits neither Antony’s philhellenism nor Greek luxury, against Roman mores, but rather contrasts Kleopatra’s Alexandrianism with the expected mores of a Roman general (154). See also S. Swain, “Plutarch’s Lives of Cicero, Cato, and Brutus,” Hermes 118 (1990) 192–203, and idem, “Hellenic Culture and the Roman Heroes of Plutarch,” jhs 110 (1990) 126–145, esp. 126–131. F. Chamoux, Marc Antoine dernier prince de l’ Orient grec (Paris, 1986) 27, observes that

162

part 2, chapter 1

A further link is suicide. Nero was the first and last of the Julio-Claudians to dispose of himself, and like Antony, under some compulsion. Still, Antony’s suicide is not as solitary as Nero’s but closely intertwined with the fate of Kleopatra. Like Nero in Suetonius’ Life, Antony suffers military defeat and the desertion of his friends. Like Nero, too, he witnesses his enemies, Roman generals, tightening the noose around him. Cruelty also links the hero to Nero. This feature appears primarily in the proscriptions, where Antony is painted with particularly somber colors.68 In Tacitean style, Plutarch castigates this bartering in blood relatives, as the triumvirs whet their appetite for vengeance: οὐδὲν ὠμότερον οὐδ’ ἀγριώτερον τῆς διαμείψεως ταύτης δοκῶ γενέσθαι· φόνων γὰρ ἀντικαταλλασσόμενοι φόνους, ὁμοίως μὲν οἷς ἐλάμβανον ἀνῄρουν οὓς ἐδίδοσαν, ἀδικώτεροι δὲ περὶ τοὺς φίλους ἦσαν οὓς ἀπεκτίννυσαν μηδὲ μισοῦντες. Nothing could be more savage or beastly than this exchange, in my opinion. For murders bartering murders, just as they killed those they took for themselves, so also those they surrendered. More unjust were they toward their friends, whom they slaughtered without even hating. 19.4

The statement is harsher than its parallel in the Life of Cicero: οὕτως ἐξέπεσον ὑπὸ θυμοῦ καὶ λύσσης τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων λογισμῶν, μᾶλλον δ’ ἀπέδειξαν ὡς οὐδὲν ἀνθρώπου θηρίον ἐστὶν ἀγριώτερον ἐξουσίαν πάθει προσλαβόντος.

68

Plutarch is the only source to mention Antony’s early stay in Greece. In his “Vues nouvelles sur Marc Antoine,” Échos du Monde Classique 30 (1986) 231–243, he notes Antony’s fascination with the East long before meeting Kleopatra at Tarsos. In 58 bc, at the age of twenty-five, he studied in Athens, and after his defeat wanted to retire there as a private citizen (Antonios 72). He was gymnasiarch at both Athens and Alexandria, and a patron of the arts and theatre (237–238). Pelling, Life of Antony, 175, sees the Life contrasting his affection for Greece earlier (Antonios 23, 33) with the sufferings he brought upon it later (62–68). A.E. Raubitschek, “Phaidros and his Roman Pupils,” Hesperia 18 (1949) 96–103, considers that in spite of Cicero’s condemnation, Antony’s appointment in 51 bc of Lysiades, son of the Epicurean philosopher Phaidros, to the Areopagos was an excellent one (102–103). On Antony’s life in general, besides Chamoux, Marc Antoine, see A. Roberts, Mark Antony. His Life and Times (Upton-upon-Severn, 1988). For the much treated scene see the extensive bibliography in Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 56.

the neronian background to the life

163

So far under the influence of emotion and rage did they deviate from rational humanity. Or rather, they demonstrated that no wild animal is more savage than a human being whose passion is backed by power. 46.6

Cicero’s execution had already been related in his Life. Nonetheless, in the Antonios, Plutarch repeats the scene. Cicero is now described more vividly as “butchered” (Κικέρωνος δὲ σφαγέντος, 20.3), and there follows the account of the amputation of the head and right hand, and Antony’s reaction, again in the Tacitean manner: καὶ κομισθέντων ἐθεᾶτο γεγηθὼς καὶ ἀνακαγχάζων ὑπὸ χαρᾶς πολλάκις· εἶτ’ ἐμπλησθεὶς ἐκέλευσεν ὑπὲρ τοῦ βήματος ἐν ἀγορᾷ τεθῆναι, καθάπερ εἰς τὸν νεκρὸν ὑβρίζων, οὐχ αὑτὸν ἐνυβρίζοντα τῇ τύχῃ καὶ καταισχύνοντα τὴν ἐξουσίαν ἐπιδεικνύμενος. When they were delivered, he gazed upon them exultantly, laughing loudly for joy many times over. Then, having taken his satisfaction, he ordered them to be displayed above the rostra in the forum, as though he were insulting the dead, and not rather making a show of insulting behavior toward his good fortune and displaying his abuse of power.69 Here one might recall the death of Octavia in Tacitus: Ac puella uicesimo aetatis anno inter centuriones et milites, praesagio malo rum iam uitae exempta, nondum tamen morte adquiescebat. paucis dehinc interiectis diebus mor iubetur, cum jam uiduam se et tantum soro rem testaretur communes que Germanicos et postremo Agnippinae nomen cieret, qua incolumi infelix quidem matrimonium, sed sine exitio pertulisset, restringitur uinclis uenaeque eius per omnes artus exsoluuntur; et quia pressus pauore San guis tardius labebatur, praeferuidi balnei uapore ft enecatur.

69

Pelling, Life of Antony, 167, who notes that in Cicero 48.6 both of Cicero’s hands are cut off, suggests that the Antonios passage has Pollio as its source. D. Magnino, Plutarchi Vita Ciceronis (Florence, 1963) 171–173. See also J.L. Moles, The Life of Cicero (Warminster, Wiltshire, 1988) 200–201. K. Scott, “The Political Propaganda of 44–30 bc,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 11 (1933) 7–50, notes that Suetonius, Augustus 13.1–2— undoubtedly Antonian propaganda—has Octavius sending Brutus’ head to Rome to be thrown at the foot of Caesar’s statue (22), while the Octavian propaganda laid the horrors of the proscriptions on Antony, only ending when he became sated (19).

164

part 2, chapter 1

additurque atrocior saeuitia, quod caput amputatum latumque in Vrbem Poppaea uidit. dona ob haec templis decreta quem ad finem memorabimus? And this girl, in the twentieth year of her life, surrounded by centurions and soldiers, by foreknowledge of future ills already cut off from life, still rested not in the peace of death … Bound fast with cords, her veins were opened in every limb; and because the blood arrested by terror ebbed too slowly, she was slaughtered in the vapor of a steaming bath. Added is more hideous cruelty; the head, amputated and carried to Rome, Poppaea viewed. For all these atrocities offerings were made in the temples. Is there any need to mention it?70 Annales 14.64.1–3

The tragic-pathetic style of the passage, a masterpiece of its type, helps explain the ambience of similar passages in Plutarch. In its harshness, the Antonios passage contrasts in other respects with the Cicero, though Plutarch is usually more benevolent when relating an incident concerning the protagonist of a Life. The account in Cicero is more factual.71 Cicero’s extremities are brought to Rome while Antony is conducting an election. Seeing them, he exclaims, “now let our proscriptions have an end,” and has the members attached to the rostra. This is “a sight horrifying to the Romans,” who believe they are viewing “not the visage of Cicero, but an image of Antony’s soul.” But with uncustomary sadism, Plutarch praises Antony for having done “one decent thing.” Philologus, the hero’s “betrayer,” is delivered over to Cicero’s sister-in-law, who forces him to roast his own flesh and eat it (49). Perhaps embarrassed by the inhumanity of the incident itself and his own lack of sensitivity in reporting it, Plutarch omits it in the Antonios. The Life of Cicero reveals the inner soul of Cicero, achieves an effect of pathos and creates sympathy for the hero. Moreover, it leaves an illusion of poetic justice, reward for Cicero, and divine punishment for Antony. After a relatively sympathetic picture of Cicero’s attempted flight and cruel execution, Plutarch depicts the reaction of Antony, the nailing of the extremities to the 70

71

Koestermann, Cornelius Tacitus, 153–154, notes that Octavia was actually twenty-two years old, not twenty, citing R. Syme, Tacitus ii (Oxford, 1952) 746, and that she died on June 9th, six years to the day before Nero committed suicide. See also H. Martin, “Structure and Interpretation,” 1566; Morford, “Tacitus’ Historical Methods,” 1604–1606. Morford sees the murders of Agrippina and Octavia as extremely important to Tacitus’ themes of the decline of liberty and the emergence of autocracy. [en: A.W. Lintott, Demosthenes and Cicero (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).]

the neronian background to the life

165

rostra, and the punishment of Philologus (49). The work closes with a visit of Augustus to a grandson who was reading Cicero, the Emperor’s praise for the orator’s life, his rewarding of Cicero’s family, and punishment of Antony’s family—that no member should bear the name Marcus. To be more explicit, “the daimonion devolves upon the family of Cicero, the final steps in the punishment of Antonius” (49.6). The punishment of Philologus, presented as something decent, forms part of a general context of retribution in the Life of Cicero. The sadism of Cicero’s family in the Cicero, however, is counterproductive, detracting from the inhumanity of his enemies. The synkrisis comparing Antony and Demetrios also reflects Neronian traits. Both heroes are condemned for insolence in prosperity and abandonment to luxury. Demetrios, however, is praised for not allowing pleasure to interfere with business, unlike Antony. Antony drives away his lawful wife and conspires in his uncle’s murder. Finally, he deserts others fighting for his sake and commits suicide “in a cowardly, pitiable, and ignoble way,” even if escaping a humiliating capture and death (93 = comp. 6). The cowardliness of Antony’s death strikes a new and discordant note, more explicable in the light of Nero’s insubstantial ghost lurking in the shadows. The death scene in the Life, in fact, is laced with heroics. Seeing himself deserted, Antony retires into the city, protesting his betrayal by Kleopatra. When her messengers falsely announce her death, he reviles himself for being inferior in courage to a woman. He immediately decides on suicide, ordering his slave, Eros, to despatch him with his sword. When Eros kills himself instead, he praises him for setting a good example and he falls on his sword. When the blow proves insufficient, he begs the bystanders to finish him off (76).72 Plutarch’s strictures on Antony’s suicide better fit the Suetonian Nero. First Nero bids his companions prepare a grave to his measurements and material for cremation. Then, frightened of plans to execute him in the ancient Roman way—striped naked, his head in a wooden fork, flogged to death with sticks— he snatches two daggers and tests them. But protesting the anticipation of the fatal hour, he puts them away. He then begs others to commit suicide first, lamenting his cowardice, and he attempts to compose himself. Only with the hoof-beats of the approaching cavalry in his ears, does he dispatch himself. He too, “botching the job” like Antony, is half alive when the cavalry arrives, but 72

Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 114; Pelling, Life of Antony, 76. Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method,” 74– 96 (85, 89) suggests a biographical source here; Russel, Plutarch, 140, suggested a memoir of a friend like Aristokrates or Lucilius. Chamoux, Marc Antoine, 393, believes that Plutarch admired not only Antony’s courageous acceptance of suffering and death but also his final proclamation of indissoluble union with Kleopatra.

166

part 2, chapter 1

his final words are quite different (Nero 49).73 The last promise extorted from his friends is not to be decapitated, but to be buried without mutilation. His last words to the despatching centurion are “Sero.” and “Haec est fides?” Thus, according to the principles of De sera and only slightly less than one hundred years after the death of our hero the Divine (to daimonion) in a mysterious way, acting through biology and the laws of genetics, settled the score with the victor of Actium. The genealogy at the end of Antonios with its almost violent condemnation of Nero is so striking, that it suggests Plutarch found and highlighted in the Life of Antony traits that characterized the reign of the Emperor. Plutarch’s misgivings about that period were associated in particular with the sufferings of members of the Stoic opposition, either known to him personally or admired from a distance, and with his own unpleasant and dangerous experiences under Domitianus. He seems to have sincerely believed in the genetic transmission of tendencies toward particular vices, and thus he would be tempted to see Antonian traits in Nero and Neronian traits in Antony. Antony’s interest in the arts, his extravagance, and his cruelty receive special prominence. But Plutarch does not consistently underscore Neronian characteristics and often excuses his hero’s lapses or describes penitence and a change for the better. In fact, the bitter damnatio of Nero, the ultimate descendant of Antony, after the problematic if not sympathetic treatment of the hero’s death, is a surprising cry in the wilderness. 73

Bradley, Life of Nero, 273, praises the compression, vividness, and detail in Suetonius’ narrative of Nero’s death. There was popular exitus literature, e.g., that of Titinius Capito and C. Fannius (Pliny, Epistolae 5.5.3; 8. 12.4) (Bradley, Life of Nero, 18). See also M.M. Sage, “Tacitus’ Historical Works: A Survey and Appraisal,” anrw ii.33.2 (1990) 851–1030 (1016– 1017).

chapter 2

Antonius and Demetrios 1

Biographical Platonism and the Chance of Living Again

The unkindest cut is to treat Plutarch as a non-parallel biographer. Thus, there are commentaries on Plutarch’s Antonios, Cicero, Pericles, Themistocles, but not Demetrios and Antonios, and the like.1 Something of an innovation, however, was Plutarch’s composition of parallel Lives of considerable length and on a grand scale.2 More complications arise when we consider his consciousness of writing a series, such as the earlier Lives of the Roman emperors, and later the gigantic figures of Greek and Roman history, in the midst of them returning to the misty Romulus and Theseus.3 As an unparalleled work to be judged on its 1 Pelling, though omitting the synkrisis from his text, actually devotes more than eight pages of his commentary to parallelism in Demetrios-Antonios (18–26), much of the fascination of the Lives being in the material’s resistance to easy comparison or formulation (25). See also P.A. Stadter, “Plutarch’s Comparison of Pericles and Fabius Maximus,” grbs 16 (1975) 77–85— primarily from an ethical standpoint; Russell, Plutarch 109–116; D.H.J. Larmour, “Plutarch’s Compositional Methods in the Theseus and Romulus,” tapa 118 (1988) 361–375, who believes (in Romylos-Theseus) Plutarch is constantly aiming at the synkrisis (375); cf. idem, “Making Parallels: Synkrisis and Plutarch’s Themistocles and Camillus,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4154–4200 (4157–4174). See also F. Frazier, “A propos de la composition des couples dans les Vies Parallèles de Plutarque,” RPh 61 (1987) 65–74, for whom Demetrios-Antonios fits into the “political conduct category” (71–72), common to lives 16–23 in Jones, “Towards a Chronology,” 68; and P. Desideri, “La formazione delle coppie nelle Vite plutarchee,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4470– 4486 (4481–4486). Frazier sees the parallelism as part of “Graecia capta.” This becomes a comparative re-analysis of the great figures of the past and of the underlying principles and foundations of Graeco-Roman civilization, which, while abstracting universal values, inflicts a subtle but cruel revenge, depriving the Romans of their own cultural identity (4486). [en: W.J. Tatum, “Antiquarianism and its Uses: Plutarch’s Roman Questions and His Lives of Early Romans,” Athenaeum 102 (2014) 104–119.] 2 Just how much precedent there was for “genuine” biography and parallel biography is a matter of some debate. Discussions can be found in Momigliano, The Development of Greek Biography, 1–42, 96–99; Dihle, Die Entstehung der historischen Biographie, 7–27; J. Geiger, Cornelius Nepos and Ancient Political Biography (Stuttgart, 1985) 9–65; and B. Gentili & G. Cerri, History and Biography in Ancient Thought (Amsterdam, 1988) 66–67 (= idem, Storia e biografia nel pensiero antico [Roma / Bari, 1983] 71–77). Few, however, mention the eschatological dimension. 3 [en: On Theseus, see C. Schubert, “Die Method der Atthidographen: die Kleidemos-Frag-

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_017

168

part 2, chapter 2

own merits, his Lives reflect the grandiose artistic conceptions of his time and present some complicated problems of interpretation. First, the immediate Life before us can be considered an artistic work in itself, in this case, Antonios. But an individual Life is like a facing statue on a tomb. Moreover, Lives seem issued in bundles, so to speak, with some reciprocal rapport. Most striking is the unexpected change of perspective when the same material appears in different Lives. The cross-references within the Lives, though, suggest that after a certain point Plutarch realized he was constructing a grandiose and complex edifice, not just individual or matching showpieces.4 Handling the comparison of individual points in two Lives and giving some indication of their construction is extremely complex in itself, but fitting an individual Life into the complete “architectonic” structure of the ensemble does strain the imagination and ingenuity of a commentator. The task is rendered more difficult by Plutarch’s growing realization of the titanic scale of his enterprise. No attempt will be made here to incorporate the Antonios into the entire series. Only its obvious relationship to the Demetrios will be considered. However, that the Antonios was meant to add the polishing stroke to an epoch is suggested by the genealogy of Nero. If so, it would finish off both the Julio-Claudians and Plutarch’s career as a parallel-biographer.5 He had already

mente in der Theseus-Vita des Plutarch,”Mnemosyne 67 (2014) 930–952; M. d. C. Fialho, “Φιλανθρωπία and φιλαυτία in Plutarch’s Theseus,” Hermathena 182 (2007) 71–83; C.R. Cooper, “Making irrational myth plausible history: Polybian Intertextuality in Plutarch’s Theseus,” Phoenix 61 (2007) 212–233; on Romulus: B.B. Buszard, “Translating Rome: Plutarch’s Skeptical Etymology in Romulus and Numa,” in S. McElduff & E. Sciarrino (eds.), Complicating the History of Western Translation (Manchester: St. Jerome Publishing, 2011) 146–158; J.L. Banta, “Who gives a fig (tree a name)?: Chronotopic Conflicts in Plutarch’s Romulus,” Intertexts 11 (2007) 25–41.] 4 See J. Geiger, “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives: The Choice of Heroes,” Hermes 109 (1981) 85–104; and idem, “Nepos and Plutarch: From Latin to Greek Political Biography,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 245–256 (247–249). Some of Geiger’s assertions have been criticized by D. Musti, “Protagonismo e forma politica nella cittâ greca,” in A. Ceresa-Gastaldo (ed.), Il protagonismo nella storiografia classica (Genoa, 1987) 9–36 (esp., 19–20); J. de Romilly, “Rencontres avec Plutarque,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 219–229, considers Plutarch “le véritable père de la biographie” because of the variety and comprehensiveness of his work (221). [en: On crossreference, see A.G. Nikolaïdis, “Plutarch’s Methods: His Cross-references and the Sequence of the Parallel Lives,” in A. Pérez Jiménez & Frances Titchener (eds.), Historical and Biographical Values of Plutarch’s Works. Studies devoted to Professor Philip A. Stadter by the International Plutarch Society (Málaga—Utah, 2005) 283–323.] 5 Pelling, “Plutarch’s Method,” 74–96, would argue that Pompeios, Markos Katon, Krassos, Kaisar, Broutos, and Antonios were prepared together (83) and written after Cicero (89–90); cf. Antonios 26–36. This theory helps explain the length of the Parthian campaign in Anto-

antonius and demetrios

169

treated this epoch in his Lives of certain emperors. Even if he wanted to redo them, he might have appreciated the value of letting his Lives die with the end of the Republic. Different historiographical and biographical principles would be at stake, since no Greek hero could quite challenge a Roman Emperor, the monarch of both Rome and Greece. If we consider Plutarch a philosopher by nature, vocation, and divine design (pronoia), and a biographer only through chance (tyche or to automaton), then he deserves serious consideration as a philosophical biographer or a biographical philosopher.6 Most of us labor under the Platonically mistaken impression that a person only lives once. For some persons that impression may not be mistaken. However, in the Platonic theory of reincarnation, which Plutarch endorses philosophically and depicts with horrendous images, one’s life is not so linear. Moreover, many Stoic philosophers considered all things recurring again in exactly, or almost exactly, the same manner. Though Plutarch remained an enemy of Stoic apokatastasis (the regeneration of the entire cosmos), the doctrine would have reinforced the Platonic idea that in incarnation or reincarnation, one swallow does not make a spring.7 In the scheme of Platonic metempsychosis, the importance of the particular events of a specific period of time becomes less significant than the generic

nios, the shortness of the Philippi account—without cross reference—and suggests looking for other interrelationships within the group (in part due to common source material and working methods). Geiger, “Choice of Heroes,” believes the availability and quality of the source material is often decisive: of the seven Hellenistic Lives, three, Eumenes, Demetrios Poliorketes, and Pyrrhos, derive from Hieronymos of Kardia, who also wrote of Antigonos Monophthalamos, Demetrios’ father, an important figure in Demetrios (91). Hieronymos offered abundant material to pair with Antonios. Geiger maintains that the choice of Hellenistic Lives was quite original and they were not included in the initial plan (92, 94). [en: For Pyrrhos, see J. Edwards, “Plutarch and the Death of Pyrrhus: Disambiguating the Conflicting Accounts,” Scholia 20 (2011) 112–131; for Eumenes: E.M. Anson, “The Battle of Gabene: Eumenes’ Inescapable Doom?,” in V.A. Troncoso & E.M. Anson (eds.), After Alexander: The Time of the Diadochi (323–281 bc) (Oxford/Oakville: Oxbow Books, 2013) 99–109.] 6 Brenk, In Mist Apparelled, 274–275; idem, “The Religious Spirit,” 119–120; and, rather original in conception, W. Den Boer, “Plutarch’s Philosophical Basis for Personal Involvement,” in J.W. Eadie and J. Ober (eds.), The Craft of the Ancient Historian. Essays in Honor of Chester G. Starr (Lanham, Maryland, 1985) 373–386, esp., 381–382. 7 A.A. Long & D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers (Cambridge, 1987) i. Translations of the Principal Sources, with Philosophical Commentary ii. Greek and Latin Texts with Notes and Bibliography i, 274–279; ii, 271–277; R. Sorabij, Time, Creation and the Continuum (London, 1983) 21–27, 98–112, 371–377; idem, Matter, Space and Motion (Ithaca, 1988) 160–185.

170

part 2, chapter 2

quality of one’s life.8 Presumably, given a different time frame and even a different culture, the person’s character would reveal itself in a similar way. But the theory is not necessarily true. Having lived one good life might be insignificant, since the conditions might simply have been favorable. Rather it might take several lives to test virtue worthy of escape from the cycle.9 Plutarch’s De defectu (415b–c) suggests that multiple incarnation is not a necessary condition, but that escape is limited to the relatively few, and only after a life of virtue in our terrestrial world and a purgatory in the next.10 This doctrine would seem to exclude the majority of the heroes he has taught us to love, not only the cautionary Demetrios and Antony.11 In any case, just as an illustrated lecture with two projectors renders it psychologically or culturally impossible ever to project fewer than two images at any time, so the concept of Parallel Lives should have rendered it impossible ever to write a commentary on only one Life. Unfortunately, the astuteness

8

9

10 11

For Plutarch’s general relationship to Platonism, see J. Whittaker, “Platonic Philosophy in the Early Centuries of the Empire,” anrw ii.36.1 (1987) 81–123; C. Froidefond, “Plutarque et le platonisme,” ibidem, 184–233; Brenk, “The Religious Spirit,” 25–42. [en: M. Nerdahl, “Flattery and Platonic Philosophy: The Limits of Education in Plutarch’s Life of Dion,” cw 104 (2011) 295–309; Ph.A., Stadter, “Plato in Plutarch’s Lives of Lycurgus and Agesilaus,” in Pérez Jiménez, García López, & Aguilar (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 475–486; also A. Pérez Jiménez, “Exemplum: The Paradigmatic Education of the Ruler in the Lives of Plutarch,” in Stadter & Van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor, 105– 114.] Escape from the cycle is not so clear. In Phaedros 248e–249a a virtuous soul is freed after three successive periods of a thousand years, and after having been a “guileless philosopher” or “a ‘pederast’ with philosophia”; in Phaed. 114bc those purified through philosophia “live without bodies and pass to still more beautiful abodes.” Repub. 621cd seems to hold eternal reincarnation, in spite of the final words “when we receive our reward, as the victors in the games.” J. Annas, An Introduction to Plato’s Republic (Oxford, 1981), attributes the pessimistic tone to Plato’s emphasis on the importance of one’s choices (349–353). Brenk, “The Religious Spirit,” above 43–65; idem, “In the Light of the Moon: Demonology in the Early Imperial Period,” anrw ii.16.3 (1986) 2068–2145 (2117–2130). A. Barigazzi, “Plutarco e il corso futuro della storia,” Prometheus 10 (1984) 264–286, notes the presence of only one of the Diadochoi in the Lives, and he a representative of vice. Barigazzi would attribute this absence, perhaps a little idealistically, to Plutarch’s low opinion: they ruined Alexander’s vision, leaving it to Romans to fulfill (271–272). S. Swain, “Plutarch: Chance, Providence, and History,” AJPh 110 (1989) 272–302, offers a good analysis of the complexities of Plutarch’s thought about fortune (tyche), providence, and Roman rule. He concludes that overall Plutarch accepted the Romans as worthy and that in his mature works Roman rule belongs to the divine plan (284–285, 298).

antonius and demetrios

171

of modern scholars has outwitted Plutarch. Still, for the reader of the Lives as intended, attention to one individual is necessarily limited, while “compare and contrast” is encouraged, in the hope that the reader will eventually arrive at general principles by a process of abstraction. The time period, nationality, and cultural background at times utterly vanish as the virtue of the protagonist is put under a microscope. True, Plutarch, like the precosmic soul in his commentary on the Timaios, sometimes becomes absorbed in the exciting flow of the phainomena, the forbidden fruit of Platonism, and seems less than nonchalant about particulars. Still, at the termination of most Lives the comparison, the synkrisis, attempts to pull us up by our boot straps, underlining the non-phenomenal aspect of the two human endeavors, and focusing our gaze through the spectacles of centuries, if not through those of cyclical regeneration or eternity.12 Nonetheless, the eschatological aspect of the Lives is not obtrusive; in fact, it can barely be found. Plutarch uses divine intervention or hints of it quite frequently, but apparently regarding biography as a different genre from philosophy, he is virtually silent about the eschatological result. The only real exception is Dion-Broutos, in which the stupendous diabolical part belongs more to the Roman hero than the Greek. The daimonic intervention is supposed to prevent the hero from obtaining a better place in the next life than the malicious spirit (daimon) himself (2).13 However, this preface and the demonological developments within the particular pair are quite exceptional.14 The

12

13

14

Pelling, “Synkrisis,” 83–96, who considers the synkriseis, with their simplistic moral tone, disappointing, believes the real comparisons are embedded in the Lives’ more intractable matter, which defies simple analysis; on Demetrios-Antonios, 89–90. Brenk, “The Religious Spirit,” above 92. idem, “I veri demoni greci ‘nella nebbia ammantellati’? Esiodo e Plutarco,” in E. Corsini & E. Costa (eds.), L’autunno del diavolo, Diabolos, Dialogos, Daimon. I Mondo antico e giudaico-cristiano (Milan, 1990) 23–36 (29–30). In the Derveni Papyrus (lines 9–10) both daimones and Eumenides seem to be souls, as noted by A. Henrichs, “The Eumenides and Wineless Libations in the Derveni Papyrus,” in Atti del xvii Congresso Internazionale di Papirologia ii (Naples, 1984) 254–268 (257– 258). P.A. Stadter, “The Proems of Plutarch’s Lives,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 275– 295, is impressed by the great diversity in the introductions; for Dion-Broutos, where the supernatural factor enters, see 285. [en: J. Dillon, “Dion and Brutus: Philosopher Kings adrift in a Hostile World,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 87–102; M. Pade, “‘I give you back Plutarch in Latin’: Guarino Veronese’s version of Plutarch’s Dion (1414) and Early Humanist Translation,” crcl 41 (2014) 354–368; A.V. Zadorojnyi, “The Ethico-Politics of Writing in Plutarch’s Life of Dion,” jhs 131 (2011) 147–163.]

172

part 2, chapter 2

diabolical incursions are, moreover, not very integral to the main thread and are undercut during the course of the narration.15 Given the philosophical necessity of abstracting from individual phenomena, the importance and advantage of parallel Lives becomes more evident. Demetrios-Antonios offers one slice of history from the Hellenistic world of around 338bc to 283bc and another from the Roman world of 86 bc to 30 bc The two time segments are almost exactly equal. Antony at the age of fiftysix disposed of himself with the sword, conveniently terminating his life in a chronological span equivalent to that finished by Demetrios’ last kylix of wine. The choice of these Parallel Lives was even more propitious; for Antony followed in many footsteps of his predecessor, historically and biographically speaking. Overtly, however, Plutarch avoided comparison on temporal or geographical similarities, and focused on the supposed heroic perversity of soul found in these examples of cautionary vice. Still, sailing over the same waves and tramping through the same sands did not hurt parallelism. There seems, moreover, to be a large amount of contamination in the two Lives. The genealogy, for example, following Demetrios’s death is the longest in the Lives after that of Antony. At any rate, the Demetrios-Antonios seems especially conscious of parallelism.

2

Parallels in Vice

The Lives begin with a long preface excusing the inclusion of two scoundrels in an otherwise noble series (1.6): οὕτως μοι δοκοῦμεν ἡμεῖς προθυμότεροι τῶν βελτιόνων ἔσεσθαι καὶ θεαταὶ καὶ μιμηταὶ βίων, εἰ μηδὲ τῶν φαύλων καὶ ψεγομένων ἀνιστορήτως ἔχοιμεν.

15

Brenk, “The Religious Spirit” 50–52. idem, “Demonology,” 2128–2129. P. Desideri, “Teoria e prassi storiografica di Plutarco: una proposta di lettura della coppia Emilio PaoloTimoleonte,” Maia 41 (1989) 199–215, asks whether Plutarch’s heroes becoming daimones after death, as alluded to in Dion-Broutos and Romulos 31, intervene in human affairs. Regarding this as not improbable, he suggests a different twist: a regaining by contemporaries of the motivations, ideals, and capacity for action of great men of the past. In this sense, the Lives, by rediscovering the reasons and the driving force behind an individual action, constitute a profound rethinking of the Polybian and Thucydidean conception of the utility of historical reflection (214–215).

antonius and demetrios

173

… it is my impression that we ourselves will be more eager spectators of the better lives, and imitators, if of the base and reprehensible we are not deprived of a history. It immediately adds that Demetrios and Antony were “great natures” (μεγάλαι φύσεις, 1.8), and, thereby, bear testimony to a saying of Plato (the location of which has baffled modern scholars) that great natures bear witness to great vices as well as great virtues.16 The similar great vices of the present heroes are not immediately specified, but presumably they would be erotic passion, heavy drinking, extravagance, and overbearing or lawless conduct (ὑβρισταί, 1.8). A military nature and munificence, other similarities mentioned, cannot be considered qualities which Plutarch would universally condemn. The next great similarity is the oscillation of their fortune (tyche). Supposedly all during life they enjoyed tremendous success but also great reverses. Finally, both came to a bad end, one in captivity, the other on the verge of a similar fate (1). Obviously, the reasoning of the preface is somewhat specious. A biographer could not overlook such prominent and dashing heroes. Demetrios was perhaps a womanizer, but less so, Antony. Plutarch would not have neglected Antony’s eroticism, but probably felt the need to exaggerate this comparison, which in the end is unconvincing, only conforming to the propagandistic stereotype. Moreover, the supposed oscillation of tyche (fortune), or Tyche— the darling of Hellenistic historians—though important for Demetrios, is hardly so for Antony. His fortunes mark a rather steady rise until his failure on the Parthian campaign, the real turning point of his political fortunes.17 There-

16

17

Dihle, Entstehung der historischen Biographie, 13 and 16, attributes “praise and blame” to the influence of enkomion literature, an ancestor of biography. Stadter, “The Proems,” notes different kinds of rhetorical enkomion and Plutarch’s flexibility in using them (277– 284). Pelling, Life of Antony, 15, remarks, though, that Demetrios-Antonios is not so much interested in “protreptic” moralism as in “descriptive ethical truths” about human nature. [en: A.V. Zadorojnyi, “The Rhetoric and Philosophy of Plutarch’s Mirrors,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 169–195; T.E. Duff, “Plutarch’s Lives and the Critical Reader,” in G. Roskam, & L. Van der Stockt (eds.), Virtues for the People: Aspects of Plutarchan Ethics. Essays Originally Presented at an International Conference at Delphi in September 2004 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2011) 59–82.] S.C.R. Swain, “Plutarch’s Aemilius and Timoleon,” Historia 38 (1989) 314–334, treats tyche in these Hellenistic Lives (esp., 314–315). [en: See now W.J. Tatum, “Another look at tyche in Plutarch’s Aemilius Paullus—Timoleon,” Historia 59 (2010) 448–461; P. Tansey, “A Note on the Repulsae of L. Aemilius Paullus (cos. 182, 168),” Athenaeum 99 (2011) 185–188;

174

part 2, chapter 2

upon, he suffers a series of humiliating defeats leading to his eventual isolation and suicide, and, if not saved through the intercession of Isis-Kleopatra, to a miserable afterlife. Apparently Plutarch sincerely believed that Antony was captivated by his love for Kleopatra. On the other hand, the necessity of making Antony’s eroticism correspond to that of Demetrios may have encouraged Plutarch to accept and embellish the Augustan propaganda which made Antonius the tipsy paramour of the Egyptian queen. Plutarch highlighted the role of Lamia, the hetaira of Ptolemaios discovered among the spoils of Kypriote Salamis. Like Kleopatra’s, her beauty left something to be desired and her accomplishments outside love were more astonishing than those within. Originally only becoming distinguished as a flautist, only later did she become “illustrious in love matters” (τοῖς ἐρωτικοῖς λαμπρὰ γενομένη, 16.5): At any rate, although she had already lost the flower of youth by this time, and found Demetrios much younger than herself, she so overcame and possessed him by her charm that he became for her alone the lover, of all other women, the beloved. In 19.6 his conduct seems to merit more a smile than the lash: The story is related that after Lamia’s open conquest of Demetrios, coming home from abroad he greeted his father with a kiss. At this, Antigonos laughingly remarked, ‘Son, are you sure you are kissing me and not Lamia?’ Plutarch seems unconcerned that the following chreia dulls the splendor of Lamia’s conquest (19.8):

D.N. Sánchez Vendramini, “Morte de Aemilius Paullus em Cana: fazendo de herói um general derrotado (Polybius 3.112–117),” Classica(Brasil) 27 (2014) 185–196; on Timoleon: D. Miano, “Tychai of Timoleon and Servius Tullius: a Hypothesis on the Sources,” asnp 4 (2012) 365–378; S.P. Teodorsson, “Timoleon: the Fortunate General,” in De Blois et al. (eds.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 215–226.] In S.C.R. Swain, “Plutarch’s De fortuna Romanorum,” cq 39 (1989) 504–516, the author sees a deepening of Plutarch’s thought: in the essay (319f) Kleopatra belongs to the good tyche of “Caesar” (Octavius), but in the Life her effect is analyzed in profoundly human terms (511–512). See also G. Forni, Plutarco. La fortuna dei Romani (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1989) 13–20, 61, note 68.

antonius and demetrios

175

And again, having learned his son was sick, Antigonos went to visit him, and encountered a beauty at the door.18 Entering and seating himself at his side, he grasped him by the hand. ‘The fever is gone now.’ said Demetrios. ‘I can believe that, son,’ he replied, ‘I just passed it on the way in’.

3

Parallels in Assimilations

Having announced his general program in the preface, Plutarch proceeds to the particulars. Demetrios was extremely handsome as a young man, so handsome that his beauty lacked adequate reproduction in painting and sculpture. A bon vivant, devoted to drinking and luxurious living, he was also energetic, persistent, and effective in action, a Dionysos (2.3): ᾗ καὶ μάλιστα τῶν θεῶν ἐζήλου τὸν Διόνυσον, ὡς πολέμῳ τε χρῆσθαι δεινότατον, εἰρήνην τ’ αὖθις ἐκ πολέμου τρέψαι [καὶ] πρὸς εὐφροσύνην καὶ χάριν ἐμμελέστατον. … he, therefore, of all the gods most emulated Dionysos, since more than any other god he was most terrible in waging war but most accomplished, once war was over, in turning peace to joyfulness and graceful artistry. The Hellenistic Neos Dionysos reflected here contrasts with the crude image of a drunken Bacchus as conjured up by the Augustan propaganda machine.19

18

19

The Greek (τῶν καλῶν) leaves it unclear, perhaps deliberately on Plutarch’s part, whether a woman or a boy is at stake, though the term is usually used for boys. In 24, a boy called Damokles ὁ καλός in an attempt to avoid Demetrios’ advances leaps into a tub of boiling water. For Dionysos and Rome see J.-M. Pailler, Bacchanalia: La répression de 186 av. J.-C. à Rome et en Italie (Paris, 1988) 746–770; E.S. Gruen, Studies in Greek Culture and Roman Policy (Leiden, 1990) 72–78; and J.-P. Brisson, “Rome et l’âge d’or: Dionysos on Saturne?,” mefra. Antiquité 100 (1988) 917–982—not so convincing, however, in its central argument. A bitter propaganda war was waged at the time, as delineated in K. Scott, “The Political Propaganda of 44–30bc,” with Octavius taking great pains to refute Antony (48). See also I. Becher, “Augustus und Dionysos—ein Feindverhältnis?,” Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 103 (1976) 88–101; and for the iconographical campaign against Antony, Zanker, The Power of Images, 57–65 (65–72 in the German ed.). [M. Böhme,

176

part 2, chapter 2

But this assimilation of Demetrios to Dionysos is swiftly abandoned. One wonders whether the brief allusion was not invented or used only for parallelism. In fact, the assimilation may not be supported by numismatics. The coins show him as very handsome. One in particular depicts him as an idealized, beautiful youth.20 In the begining of his reign he imitated the coins of Alexander. Thus, coins of this period depict Athena on the obverse, and Demetrios either in the guise of Herakles or with the attributes of Herakles on the reverse.21 Some supposedly portray him with the bull horn of Dionysos. The interpretation of the bull horns as those of Dionysos has, however, been questioned. None of the other coin types indicate a Dionysian connection. Repeatedly he portrayed himself with ships and with Poseidon, who is honored in every possible way. In this interpretation, after the debacle at Ipsos in 301 bc, Demetrios wanted to recall his previous success at Kypriote Salamis; he therefore emphasized his power at sea, changing the coin types to ships and Poseidon. The horned figure, then, represents not Dionysos but Poseidon Taureios.22 The image of a horned Poseidon recalls Euripides’Hippolytos (1201– 1217). In response to the prayer of Theseus, Hippolytos’s father, Poseidon discharges a monstrous bull, which rises out of the sea to overwhelm the youth (1201–1217): ἔνθεν τις ἠχὼ χθόνιος, ὡς βροντὴ Διός, / βαρὺν βρόμον μεθῆκε, φρικώδη κλύειν· … ἐς δ’ ἁλιρρόθους / ἀκτὰς ἀποβλέψαντες ἱερὸν εἴδομεν / κῦμ’ οὐρανῶι στηρίζον, … / κἄπειτ’ ἀνοιδῆσάν τε καὶ πέριξ ἀφρὸν / πολὺν καχλάζον πον-

20 21 22

“Plutarch und die Attische Demokratie,” in V.V. Dement’eva, & Tassilo Schmitt (eds.), unter Mitarb. von Moritz Böhme & Claudia Horst, Beiträge zu einem von den Universitäten Bremen und Jaroslawl organisierten Kongress in Jaroslawl 2007 (Göttingen: Ruprecht 2010) 149–158.] B.V. Head et al., A Guide to the Principal Coins of the Greeks from circ. 700bc to a.d.270 (London, 1965) Period ivb, 10 (54 and pl. 29). E.g., E.T. Netwell, The Coinages of Demetrius Poliorcetes (London, 1927) 166–169 and Pls. i 1, 5, 11, 16–18. Scutum 104. Netwell, The Coinages, 72–73, argues for the Poseidon identification; on the desire to glorify Salamis after Ipsos (31). In Athenaeus, 6.62–63, Demetrios calls himself the son of Poseidon. An enormous number of Poseidon coin types can be found in Netwell, The Coinages, 24–27, pl. ii, 1–19, but also iii–xviii, and in other collections such as A.B. Brett, Catalogue of Greek Coins. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (Boston, 1955) 94– 95; #705–711, p1.38. However, less convincingly, K. Scott, “The Deification of Demetrius Poliorcetes,” AJPh 49 (1928) 137–166; 217–239, on the basis of the prevalent assimilation of Hellenistic rulers to Dionysos, believes the horns represent Dionysos.

antonius and demetrios

177

τίωι φυσήματι / χωρεῖ πρὸς ἀκτὰς …/ αὐτῶι δὲ σὺν κλύδωνι καὶ τρικυμίαι / κῦμ’ ἐξέθηκε ταῦρον, ἄγριον τέρας· / οὗ πᾶσα μὲν χθὼν φθέγματος πληρουμένη / φρικῶδες ἀντεφθέγγετ.’ εἰσορῶσι δὲ / κρεῖσσον θέαμα δεργμάτων ἐφαίνετο.23 There we heard a heavy rumbling sound, like the thunder of Zeus, but it rose out of the earth with a deep roar, horrible to hear … Gazing out to the breaking surf, we saw a wave of unearthly size, rearing to the sky … Then, swelling still higher, and spattering foam on every side, it rushed seething and hissing to the shore … In the moment of bursting and crashing, the wave threw forth a monstrous savage bull, whose bellow filled the whole earth with an appalling echo, a sight too great for mortal vision. The assimilation of both Demetrios and Antony to Herakles at times falls more or less to the wayside. The numismatic assimilation of Demetrios to Herakles on coins was common in that epoch. But in chapter 4, Plutarch almost derails Antony’s Dionysiac assimilation by stressing his lineage from Herakles. This assimilation was based on physiognomy, but the Antonii were Herakleidai, descended from Anton, son of Herakles (4.2). Supposedly Antony fostered this assimilation by wearing his tunic girt high, bearing a large sword, and wearing a heavy cloak.24 The mythical lineage serves to underscore Antony’s military competence, drinking, camaraderie, womanizing, boastfulness, and liberality, in short the qualities of “great natures” (μεγάλαι φύσεις) in which erotic passion and heavy drinking, accompany extravagance and overbearing conduct (ὑβρισταί). Plutarch’s disdain or reluctance to exploit the Herakles assimilation of either Demetrios or Antony reveals a certain dislike of rather mechanical parallels,

23 24

Text of J. Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae, i (Oxford, 1984) 260. On Antony’s coin types see Pelling, Life of Antony, 123–124. Some of the coins are reproduced in E.G. Huzar, Mark Antony. A Biography (Minneapolis, 1978) 150–151. M. Grant, Cleopatra (London, 1972) 112, notes that the Nemean lion appeared on Antony’s coins as the astrological sign for the date of his conception (E.A. Sydenham, rev. G.C. Haines et al., The Coinage of the Roman Republic [London, 1952] 189 nos. 1160, 1163). M. Bieber, “The Development of Portraiture on Roman Republican Coins,” anrw i.4 (1973) 871–898 (882– 885 on Antony) notes his early interest in Sol—reflected in very unusual coins, minted in Gaul, 42 bc—representing the god within a distyle temple (884; Tafeln, 213, fig. 19). His coins representing Fulvia (authenticity questioned), Octavia, and Kleopatra were the first in which real women appeared on Roman coins.

178

part 2, chapter 2

though aspects like the passion for Kleopatra could be made to correspond with Herakles’ fatal love for Iole. Moreover, the Herakles assimilation would obscure Antony’s degeneration in Alexandria. This aspect of the hero’s character is symbolized by Dionysos, one of the principal gods of the city, and is necessary for the Dionysiac thiasos which abandons Alexandria before the battle there.25 The Herakles assimilation in Antonios, however, is not totally abandoned, but remains at a lower level of importance. Later this assimilation, along with that of Dionysos, constitutes one of the important portents before the Battle of Actium (60). In Patrai, during Antony’s sojourn there, the Herakleion is destroyed by lightning. At Athens, Dionysos in a statuary group of the Battle of the Giants dedicated by Attalos of Pergamon, at the south wall of the Acropolis is dislodged by the wind. After an allusion to Antony’s Heraklean lineage, Plutarch relates the assimilation to Dionysos, “in the mode of life he adopted,” and in his title, Neos Dionysos. The unusual wind portent may be intended as a parallel to an earlier one in Demetrios. Here (12) figures of Demetrios and Antigonos had been added to those of Zeus and Athena in the Panathenaic robe of Athena, but as the procession was passing through the Kerameikos the robe was rent by a furious wind. The parallel is not underlined, though, and in Demetrios, the portent is a threat for usurping divine honors. The wind portent in both Lives takes place at Athens, one affecting the Kerameikos, and the other the Acropolis and the area below.26

25

26

J.M. Mossman, “Tragedy and Epic in Plutarch’s Alexander,” jhs 108 (1988) 83–93, with one exception, regards all the allusions to Dionysos and Alexander in the Life of Alexander as sinister (87). [en: See now S.R. Asirvatham, “Olympias’ Snake and Callisthenes’ Stand: Religion and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Alexander,” in S.R. Asirvatham, C.O. Pache, & J. Watrous (eds.), Between Magic and Religion: Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Mediterranean Religion and Society (Lanham (Md.): Rowman and Littlefield, 2001) 93–125; D. Aubriot-Sévin, “Quelques observations sur la religion d’Alexandre (par rapport à la tradition classique) à partir de Plutarque (La Vie d’Alexandre) et d’Arrien (L’Anabase d’ Alexandre),” Métis 1 (2003) 225–249; K.D. Nawotka, “Persia, Alexander the Great and the kingdom of Asia,” Klio 94 (2012) 348–356.] In Antonios 60 the tempest striking the Akropolis overturns the Statues of Eumenes and Attalos upon which Antony’s name had been inscribed; see Pelling, Life of Antony, 265– 266.

antonius and demetrios

4

179

Treading the Same Ground

Besides the location of the wind portents at Athens, there are other geographical points of contact between Demetrios and Antonios. Both heroes have encounters at Gaza, Demetrios meeting defeat and Antony early success (Demetrios 5, Antonios 3), in Syria (Demetrios 6, Antonios 30, 51), and Sidon (Demetrios 32, Antonios 51). Moreover, both had important interests in Cyprus (Demetrios 15, a-54); their careers carry them to Athens (Demetrios 8, 23–24, 26–27, 33–34, Antonios 34), to Ephesos, defeat for Demetrios (30), glory followed by defeat for Antony (24, 56), and Tarsos (Demetrios 47, a-26). Both cross the Euphrates (Demetrios 7, Antonios 37) and conduct battles in Makedonia (Demetrios 39, Antonios 22), not to mention the other footsteps of Demetrios followed by Antony. Analysis of the Ephesos adventure illuminates Plutarch’s “bi-biographical” style and the importance of intertextuality.27 Presuming the Demetrios has been read first, one encounters a Demetrios in flight but strangely marked by an act of piety, respect for the Temple of Artemis (30). Intertextuality should make one suspect a similar mishap in Antony’s future. The first Ephesos adventure of Antony and the only one of Demetrios occupy a similar position in the Lives (Demetrios 30, Antonios 24). Antony’s first entry into Ephesos is surprisingly a Bacchic triumph, though tainted with rapacity—also a theme in the Demetrios chapter—, the hero himself is mysteriously respectful of the Temple.

27

On Dionysos at Ephesos see R.E. Oster, “Ephesus as a Religious Center under the Principate i. Paganism before Constantine,” anrw ii. 18.3 (1990) 1661–1728 (1673–1676, esp. 1674, the entry of Antony into the city; 1676, the technitai of Dionysos). Plutarch’s generosity to Antony may be motivated by his respect for the Artemision (judging by Antonios 24 and 56). Like other Romans, according to Strabo 14.1.26, he apparently did not “rob” the Artemision treasury, a “sacrilege” probably common to the Attalid monarchs. On the other hand, though he doubled the asylum space, he dragged some of Brutus and Cassius’ partisans from the peribolos of the Temple, and tore from the altars Kleopatra’s sister and, possibly, brothers. See L. Boffo, “I re ellenistici e i centri religiosi dell’Asia Minore,” in Pubblicazioni della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia dell’Università di Pavia 37 (Florence, 1985) 150–163, esp. 156, 159–160, citing C. Picard, Éphèse et Claros. Recherches sur les sanctuaires et les cultes de l’ Ionie du Nord (Paris, 1922) 150–151, G.W. Bowersock, “Plutarch,” in P.E. Easterling & B.M.W. Knox (eds.), The Cambridge History of Classical Literature i. Greek Literature (Cambridge 1985) 665–669, who notes the “unmistakable personal quality” of Plutarch’s writing, sees him avoiding big cities like Athens, Ephesos, or Smyrna, and preferring Chaironeia in Boiotia, “the proverbial home of dullards” (666– 668).

180

part 2, chapter 2

Parallelism does not mean that equal space or importance is given to the similar visits to Ephesos. Antony’s first visit (24) consumes much more narrative space than Demetrios’ (30). First comes the Dionysian entry, then Antony’s exactions against the cities of Asia. The exactions part occupies more space (34 lines in the Teubner) than the triumphal entry (only 6 lines, but 15 previous lines on Asia); but the triumph, because of its brilliant use of imagery and its exploitation of the popular iconography of the Indian triumph of Dionysos, has left the exactions in the shadows. The final part of the exactions section dilates on the simplicity of Antony’s character, his repentance when the fault is pointed out, and restitution to the wronged. These observations form something of an introduction to the ultimate evil (τελευταῖον κακόν), his destructive love for Kleopatra (25.1).28 The important allotment of space to the somber side of Antony’s visit to Ephesos takes on more significance when one recalls Demetrios’ entry into the city.29 Later, during Antony’s second visit to Ephesos (56), his political and military position is more akin to Demetrios’. After the defeat in Parthia, he is in the process of making stupendous preparations for the Battle of Actium, where destiny will seal his doom. The passage most similar to Demetrios’ retreat into Ephesos, however, is the description, a little earlier in the Life, of Antony’s flight to Leuke Kome (51) between Berytos and Sidon (Demetrios 30.2–5): But Demetrios, fleeing with five thousand foot and four thousand horse, marched hurriedly to Ephesos. Here everyone thought lack of funds would make it impossible to resist plundering the temple treasury. But he, fearing his soldiers might do so, departed quickly, sailing for Greece—of his remaining hopes, putting most in Athens. For he happened to have

28

29

P.J. Bicknell, “Caesar, Antony, Cleopatra and Cyprus,” Latomus 37 (1977) 324–342, claims Antony actually gave Kleopatra little at the Kydnos meeting and even took away Kypros (334–335), that he temporarily arraigned Megabyzos (the priest of Artemis) for shielding Arsinoe (Appianus, Bell. Civ. 5.8–9) (336), and that at Leuke Kome Kleopatra drove a hard bargain, not releasing funds without more compensation (342). On the Ephesos scene, see also Chamoux, Marc Antoine, 234–236, who notes Dionysiac qualities in Antony, such as being generous after being savage. E.S. Gruen, The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome i (Berkeley, 1984) 270, claims philhellenism had “no relation” to public policy, and might be a political liability. Pelling, Life of Antony, 192, suspects a conspiracy of silence here: Arsinoe, Kleopatra’s sister, dragged from sanctuary at Ephesos and killed, along with the surrender of the disloyal admiral Serapion at Tyros, and of a pretender to the throne (Appianus, Bell. Civ. 5.9; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 15.88–93).

antonius and demetrios

181

left there ships, money, and his wife Deïdameia, and thought no securer refuge in his plight could exist than the good will of the Athenians. As he approached the Kyklades, however, an Athenian embassy met him, begging him not to approach the city, since the assembly had passed a vote refusing admittance to any of the kings, and informing him that Deïdameia had been sent to Megara with a fitting escort. Then, in his anger he lost control of himself, although he had borne his other misfortune very easily and in so great a reversal of his situation had shown himself neither mean-spirited nor ignoble. But that he should be utterly deceived in his hopes by the Athenians, and that their apparent goodwill, when tested, was to appear insubstantial and fabricated, was painful to him. Two passages from the Antonios recall the earlier one. The first, Antonios 51.1– 4: But now, pushing on through much wintry weather, which was already at hand, and incessant snowstorms, he lost eight thousand men along the march. He himself, though, went down with a small company to the sea, and in a village between Berytos and Sidon, called Leuke Kome, awaited Kleopatra. As her coming dragged on, beside himself with anxiety, he immediately started drinking and getting drunk, although he remained not long seated, but in the midst of the company would spring to his feet, until she arrived in port, bringing with her a large quantity of clothing and money for his soldiers. Some, however, allege that the clothing he did, indeed, receive from Kleopatra, but the silver, taken from his own private funds, he distributed as though she had given.30 The second arrival of Antony at Ephesos also reflects Demetrios’ passage through the city, but the details are quite different (Antonios 56.2–10): But he himself, taking Kleopatra with him, arrived at Ephesos, where his naval force was gathering from all over the world … Antonius, persuaded by Domitius and some others, ordered Kleopatra to sail for Egypt and there await the outcome of the war. Kleopatra, however, persuaded Cani-

30

Pelling, Life of Antony, 241–242, describes Plutarch’s language as particularly expressive in this passage, e.g., ἀδημονῶν ἤλυε (“… wandered around distraught, was beside himself with distress”) (51.3).

182

part 2, chapter 2

dius with large bribes to intercede for her with Antonius. He pleaded the injustice of driving away from the war a woman whose contributions were so large, the necessity for Antonius not to demoralize the Egyptians, who formed a large part of his naval force, and the equality of Kleopatra in intelligence with any of the allied rulers … Such counsel—since everything eventually was to end in Caesar’s hands—prevailed. As soon as all the forces were united, then, sailing to Samos, they spent their time in enjoyment … So the word went round, ‘What will the victory celebrations be like, once the war is won, if with such extravagance they celebrate the preparations?’

5

Fighting the Same Battles

There is much similarity in the battle scenes in the two Lives, though Plutarch has to a great extent, from an impressionistic point of view, denied Antony any victories except his minor iuuenalia. Demetrios as a very young man engages in battle for the first time at Gaza, while Ptolemaios is away attacking Syria. The hero meets disaster. He not only loses 13,000 men, either slain or captive, but also his tent, his money, and his personal belongings (5). Antony’s early and brilliant engagement at Pelousion in the Gaza strip contrasts with Demetrios’ debacle (Antonios 3). The account of Demetrios’ defeat was coldly factual, even omitting details of the battle. Antony’s dashing actions at Pelousion are now vividly portrayed against a romantic backdrop (Antonios 3.6): But more than the war, the march to Pelousion was feared, since the route lay through deep sand without water, as far as the Ekregma and Serbonian marshes, which the Egyptians call the blasts of Typhon, although they appear to consist of backwater and seepage from the Red Sea at the narrowest point of the isthmus between them and the Mediterranean … The Egyptian color so early in the Life serves to foreshadow the later scenes at Alexandria. The passage also elevates Antony to the heroic rank of Alexander, by recalling Alexander’s march across to the shrine of Zeus Ammon, after the army of Kambyses, as narrated in Herodotos, had disappeared in the sands. Previous to the march related in the Alexandros the hero had taken Gaza (25), then founded Alexandria, later so intimately associated with Antony (26) before thinking of Siwah (Alexandros 26.11–12):

antonius and demetrios

183

The march is long, filled with toils and miseries, and two perils. One is the dearth of water, absent for several days. The other occurs when a fierce southeaster descends upon travellers in deep and boundless sand, as, indeed, once happened to Kambyses’ army, transforming the plain into huge breakers and billows of sand, burying fifty thousand men and destroying them. Shortly after, in perhaps a subconscious field of associations, Plutarch relates Antony’s descent from the Herakleidai (4), another link with Alexander.31 Nevertheless, Antony is, strangely, never explicitly paralleled with Alexander.32 Antony’s first real engagement, however, had been at Jerusalem, a conquest of Alexander, even if not mentioned in the Alexander histories. Antony gallantly scales the “highest fortification,” routs the force of Aristoboulos, “many times the size of his own,” and slays “all but a few” (3). In the third major engagement, during the Civil War against Pompeius Magnus, the hero does little. He is, in fact, fleeing the hostile ships, when a southeaster wind (Notos), brings up a heavy swell. Carried toward “a precipitous and craggy shore” with no hope of escape, he suddenly sees a change to the south wind (Libas), which saves him and annihilates his pursuers. He then reverses his course and surveys the shore covered with wrecks (6).33

31 32

33

In Alexandros 2.1, Alexander is descended from Herakles on his father’s side, through Karanos. Professor Eric Gruen has brought this to my attention. Perhaps, Plutarch felt one Roman Alexander, Caesar, was enough. However, Professor Pelling points out that the Alexander comparison is prominent in Pompeios (Cf. 2.1, 34, and 46), and that in Antonios, parallels with Demetrios would tend to preempt those with Alexander. [en: On Pompeius, see T.P. Hillman, “Pompeius in Africa and Sulla’s Order to Demobilize (Plutarch, Pompeius 13, 1–4),” Latomus 56 (1997) 94–106; J.M. Candau Morón, “Plutarch’s Lysander and Sulla: Integrated Characters in Roman Historical Perspective,” AJPh 121(3) (2000) 453–478; T.P. Hillman, “Notes on the Trial of Pompeius at Plutarch, Pomp. 4. 1– 6,” RhM 141 (1998) 176–193; J. Beneker, “Thematic Correspondences in Plutarch’s Lives of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 315–325; idem, “Asêmotatos or autokratôr? Obscurity and Glory in Plutarch’s Sertorius,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 103–119; P. Payen, “Sertorius et l’Occident dans les Vies parallèles de Plutarque: acculturation et contraintes narratives,” Pallas 60 (2002) 93–115; M. Durán Mañas, “Influencia aristotélica en los sueños de las Vidas plutarqueas de Alejandro y César” cfc(g) 20 (2010) 231–246; V. Nasel et al., “Nouveaux fragments d’un papyrus de la Vie de César de Plutarque (P.Gen. inv. 477 et 504),” mh 70 (2013) 10–15; J. Lundon, “P.Köln xiii 499 and the (In)completeness of Plutarch’s Caesar,” zpe 185 (2013) 107–110; M. Giebel (ed.), Caesar (Stuttgart: Reclam, 2015); W.G. Schropp, “Der zweite Kaiser oder

184

part 2, chapter 2

As a victory, the battle at Pelousion corresponds to Demetrios’ early success at Kypriote Salamis (Demetrios 16). Actually, the battle which should correspond to Demetrios’ naval battle is Antony’s land battle at Philippi, but Plutarch practically omitted it from the Life. The Pelousion engagement is charged with emotional overtones in contrast to the coldly factual relation of the battle in Demetrios. The Salamis victory is also subordinated somewhat to the acquisition of one part of the booty, Lamia the hetaira, who was to master the master of the world, Demetrios. The emotional tones of the Salamis encounter, are, however, developed in three following chapters, which form a longer exposition to the narration of the battle. One might think Antony’s escape and unexpected victory in the naval engagement of Dyrrachion were intended to foreshadow the hero’s strategy in the later naval conflict at Actium. Not a hint of this in 66, the description of the Battle of Actium. Rather, soldiers of a seemingly passive Antony, impatient at the delay and seeing the wind beginning to rise, put their left wing in motion, to Octavius’ delight. In the naval engagement of Dyrrachion, Plutarch seems more interested in depicting Antony’s passivity, followed by pure luck, rather than in implanting hopes for an anticipated change of wind at Actium. In both cases Antony flees, not shaping destiny but carried along by events. His conduct violently contrasts with Demetrios. whose strategy is only summarily described. But he sails to the attack, cleverly blocks the strait with a few ships, and then cracks Ptolemaios’ formation (16). Plutarch virtually ignores Antony’s victory at Philippi. He does receive credit—“it was Antony who was everywhere victoriously directing the operations”—but little else (22.1). If we exclude the burial of Brutus, no more than half a chapter is devoted to the battle. Moreover, Plutarch undercuts Antony’s importance by relating a hostile account which asserted that he only arrived on the scene after his men had already routed Cassius. Even in the second and decisive battle, Plutarch follows hostile propaganda: Antony won the “greater credit for the victory, since Caesar was sick” (22.5). The virtual omission of the Battle of Philippi suggests a reluctance to repeat something already magnificently narrated, another indication that the entire set of Lives was conceived as something of a unit. An extended treatment would also disturb the tightness and crispness of various contrasts which dominate chapters 14–22. Philippi was narrated vividly and at great length in the Broutos (15 Teubner pages), which formed part of a group with the Antonios. Surpris-

ein zweiter Caesar: Überlegungen zu Plu. Numa 19.6 und App. Ill. 13.39,” Mnemosyne 68 (2015) 1003–1007.]

antonius and demetrios

185

ingly, in Antonios we have no cross reference to the Broutos, but this omission is understandable if Antonios were “published” with the Broutos. However, the story of Antony’s generosity to the fallen Brutus (Broutos 53) is repeated in an embellished and slightly different version.34 There is also a gruesome touch, the order that Hortensius, who had killed Antony’s brother Gaius in Macedonia, be executed on his tomb. The generosity toward Brutus—Antony laying his expensive purple cloak over the enemy’s body and providing for decent funeral rites, then executing the freedman who absconds with the money— poetically justifies the final respect for the body of Antony, and his obsequies (77). The Parthian disaster of Antony is another event which parallels one in Demetrios’. Nothing as dramatic occurs in the Greek Life, though the hero, winding up the skein of war, wanders about ineffectively while campaigning in the Seleukid kingdom. Both heroes cross the Euphrates and at times Antony leaves the impression of pressing on the footsteps of his biographical and historical predecessor. In particular, Demetrios’ condition in chapter 47.1–2 resembles Antony’s 45.7–12: Τέλος δὲ καὶ νόσου τῷ λιμῷ συνεπιτιθεμένης ὥσπερ εἴωθεν, ἐπὶ βρώσεις ἀναγκαίας τρεπομένων, τοὺς πάντας οὐκ ἐλάσσονας ὀκτακισχιλίων ἀποβαλών, ἀνῆγεν ὀπίσω τοὺς λοιπούς· καὶ καταβὰς εἰς Ταρσόν, ἐβούλετο μὲν … In the end sickness as well as famine overcame them, as happens when men eat food necessary for survival; and after losing no less than eight thousand men, and leading the rest back to Tarsos … Demetrios 47.1–2

καὶ λιμὸς ἥπτετο τοῦ στρατοῦ … τραπόμενοι δὲ πρὸς λάχανα καὶ ῥίζας, ὀλίγοις μὲν ἐνετύγχανον τῶν συνήθων, ἀναγκαζόμενοι δὲ πειρᾶσθαι καὶ τῶν ἀγεύστων πρότερον, ἥψαντό τινος πόας ἐπὶ θάνατον διὰ μανίας ἀγούσης … φθειρομένων δὲ πολλῶν καὶ τῶν Πάρθων οὐκ ἀφισταμένων, … Famine also seized the army … turning, therefore, to greens and roots and finding few they were used to, they were compelled to experiment with untasted ones. Thus, they consumed a certain herb which was fatal, after first causing insanity … Many perished this way, and the Parthians would not desist … Antonios 45.7–12 34

Pelling, Life of Antony, 173, notes that Antony also returned Brutus’ ashes to his mother Servilia (Broutos 53.4).

186

part 2, chapter 2

When Antony held a review of his troops, he discovered that twenty thousand infantry and four thousand cavalry had perished, not all through the enemy, but more than half overcome by disease (50). Antony still duels riskily with intertextuality by not dying like Crassus in the interior of the Asian land mass. Also, the campaign in this part of the world is really the finish for Demetrios. Afterwards his character disintegrates, and he destroys his own health. In the Roman Life, just before reaching safety across the river Araxes, Antony loses hope of escape and is close to suicide. But the retreat does not terminate his career. He returns to Armenia (in 34 bc) (50) to avenge himself, or more properly take revenge on a scapegoat, the Armenian king. On the return from Parthia (51), though, Antony stays at Leuke Kome where he drinks heavily, much like the vanquished Demetrios. Plutarch’s biographical technique here is interesting in that the real parallel is not with Demetrios but with Krassos. The tremendous length of the Parthian Campaign in the Antonios indicates its importance for the author. The campaign in Antonios covers 16 chapters (37–52) in a work of 87 chapters. Thus, a sixth of the Life consists of the Parthian campaign, 16 times more space than the Battle of Philippi, and about 6 chapters, or a third more, than the Battle at Actium (56, 60–68)!35 The allocation of space is roughly equal to the campaign in Krassos’ (16–33), but since the Krassos’ has only 33 chapters, the Parthian campaign occupies half the Life. The complexity and extraordinary length of the Antonios allow the two campaigns of Parthia and Actium together to constitute only a third of the Antonios narrative space. The narration of the campaign in Antonios, then, suggests a rather complex concept of Parallel Lives. Besides the two immediate Lives at stake, other types of parallelism enter, eventually embracing, at least indirectly, all the Lives in the series.36 Strangely, though, Antony himself makes no reference to Crassus. Rather he brings to mind the successful campaign of Xenophon’s TenThousand, while symbolically tracing, and striving mightily not to trace literally, the footsteps of Crassus. Antony, nonetheless, only saves his life through the hindsight of not repeating Crassus’ mistakes, at least not every one. Crassus is only mentioned twice. At the beginning of the campaign Antony demands back the standards of Crassus (37). More importantly, toward the end, the

35 36

Pelling, Life of Antony, 220, considers the Parthian Campaign a pendant to the Battle of Actium. [en: On the issue of parallelism in Plutarch’s Lives, see now the following articles included in the volume edited by Humble, (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives: Ph.A. Stadter, “Parallels in three dimensions,” 197–216; W.J. Tatum, “Why Parallel Lives?,” 1–22.]

antonius and demetrios

187

Parthian guide, Mithridates, kindly warns Alexandros, one of the officers, that Antony will suffer the fate of Crassus if he proceeds by the plain (46). Otherwise Plutarch’s Antony is sublimely unaware of either the life or Crassus.37 The Battle of Actium in Antonios, though, is much enhanced by knowledge of Demetrios’ victory at Kypriote Salamis. The paired hero had been invincible at sea; and Antony himself had been successful earlier in the naval engagement near Dyrrachion, while fleeing the forces of Pompeius Magnus. Demetrios’ victory was stupendous, even if—except for numismatics—ephemeral. Still, though frustrated in war, he remained undefeated at sea. Only the land brought him humiliation and ultimate defeat. Antony’s position is the reverse. Canidius advises him to surrender the sea to Caesar, who had been victorious in Sicily, and rely on his army (63). The argument is summed up in a touching vignette. A centurion begs Antony to fight on land: O Commander, why, shaming these wounds and sword, in wretched planks do you put your hopes? Let the Egyptians and Phoenicians fight at sea. Give us the land, where we are used either to death or victory. 64.3

6

From Battle to Banquet and Boudoir

Both Demetrios and Antonios alternate remarkably between open and closed space. Battles, in particular those at sea in a large open space, are preceded or succeeded by drinking and merrymaking in an enclosed space.38 The battle scenes tend to symbolize the hero’s Heraklean virtue. The partying suggests the debilitating erosion of logos through passion, in particular, the darker side of Dionysos, an alcoholism born of the paralysis of moral degeneration. This alternation can be represented schematically:

37 38

[en: A.V. Zadorojnyi, “Tragedy and Epic in Plutarch’s Crassus,” Hermes 125 (1997) 169– 182.] For the concept of open/closed space see C. Segal, Tragedy and Civilization. An Interpretation of Sophocles (Cambridge, Mass. 1981) 105–107.

188

part 2, chapter 2

Demetrios

Antonios

Drinking, etc.

Battle

Drinking, etc.

1 (allusion)39 2 14 23–27

5–7 15–16

1 (Dem. 1) 2 4 9

41–42 52

28–29 31–36 43–44 46–50

24–29 51 53 56 71 75

Battle

3 7–8 17–18 22 37–50

56 61–66 74 76

The schema above reveals the oscillation between the overtly public life of the hero and his more private life. A keen nose would discern the decadent scent of the Neronian period. Luxury, extravagance, and satiety become morbidly associated with death.40 Enhanced by a profusion of pictorial detail, the elegant scenes reflect the ideals of the baroque manner. Huge interior vistas of halls with banqueters parallel even vaster panoramas of land and sea, upon which appear military arrays or naval formations. In addition to the simple alternation between poles of exterior and interior scenes, there is the distribution of these scenes in a particular section. For example, Antonios 24–30 begins with his Bacchic entry into Ephesos, but

39

40

An allusion to the Spartan custom of getting helots drunk in the presence of the young, to exemplify the evils of drink, is used to justify the “cautionary” tales of Demetrios and Antonios. Different aspects are developed in W. Arrowsmith, “Luxury and Death in the Satyricon,” Arion 5 (1966) 304–331; F. Zeitlin, “Petronius as Paradox: Anarchy and Artistic Integrity,” tapa 102 (1971) 657–684—the banquet as an artificial world, finally destroyed by the real one (662); Sullivan, Literature and Politics, 160–161; C. Saylor, “Funeral Games: the Significance of Games in the Cena Trimalchionis,” Latomus 46 (1987) 593–602; and A. Novara, “Rude saeculum que l’ âge d’ or selon Sénèque (d’ après Ad Lucil. 90.44–46),” Bulletin Budé (1988) 129–139 (esp. 132).

antonius and demetrios

189

passes quickly into the τελευταῖον κακόν (“the ultimate evil”) (25.1), his love for Kleopatra. His passion is symbolized by the feasting on board ship at Tarsos, and the banquets, pleasures, and diversions of Alexandria. In 33–35 there is some digression on Antony’s relationship to Octavius and Octavia.41 But then we find the preparations for the Parthian War and an exceedingly long section dedicated to the campaign. The preparations and initial phase of the war are described in 33–37. The military part is then interrupted by a digression on Antony’s love for Kleopatra (36). After this, the actual campaign is narrated in 37–50. A similar pattern appears in Demetrios 23–27, where his extravagance, feasting, and wenching at Athens is followed by the campaigns (in their Greek form) at Ipsos, the Chersonesos, Syria and Kilikia, the Peloponnesos, Athenai, Sparta, Makedonia, and Thessalia (28–39). The narrative space in 23–27 is relatively equal to that for Antony’s diversions.

7

Inimitable Livers and Inseparable in Death

Despite some interesting counter-movements, the heroes and the reader advance toward the psychological disintegration of the hero rather than pure military defeat. This phenomenon is not unique in the Lives.42 Antony, at first more vulnerable to wine than women, surrenders to Kleopatra’s charms. But his end is tainted by heavy drinking. At Leuke Kome, after his defeat in Parthia, his alcoholism, the result of depression, brings no political benefits (51).43 After Actium, the society of the Inimitable Livers at Alexandria became the Inseparable in Death (71).44 Presumably this group continued the essential functions 41

42 43

44

Antony’s private life was not a model of simplicity. E. Huzar, “Mark Antony: Marriages vs. Careers,” cj 81 (1986) 97–111—perhaps not the most felicitous title—lists his wives and lovers: Fadia (1), daughter of a freedman; Antonia (2), divorced for adultery with P. Cornelius Dolabella; Fulvia (3), the widow of Clodius; Octavia (4). Among the mistresses were Cytheris, and Glaphyra of Kappadokia (the latter, at least according to Cicero 97). See, for example, Swain, “Character Change in Plutarch,” 66–68. M. Reingold, From Republic to Principate. An Historical Commentary on Cassius Dio’s Roman History Books 49–52 (36–29bc) (Atlanta, 1988) 57–62, believes Antony’s army had 100,000 troops, the largest ever mobilized against Parthia, and that he lost over twenty-five percent of his forces. Pelling, Life of Antony, 195; P.M. Fraser, “Mark Antony in Alexandria: A Note,” jrs 47 (1957) 71–73, reinterprets W. Dittenberger, Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae (Leipzig, 1903– 1905) i, 195 in the following manner (72): Ἀντώνιον μέγαν | ἀ̣μίμητον ἀφροδισίοις | Παράσιτος τὸν ἑαυτοῦ θεὸν{ε̣} | κ̣ αὶ εὐεργέτην, l ιδ τοῦ καὶ δ, | Χοιὰχ Κθ. He believes the club might have been a Dionysiac thiasos; Cf. idem, Ptolemaic Alexandria (Oxford, 1972) i, 204, note 113.

190

part 2, chapter 2

of its predecessor. Not the menu but the modality would be changed. The feasting is now inextricably linked with coming death. Moreover, before the battle at Alexandria, Antony bids his servants pour out the wine more generously, expecting to be dead on the morrow (75). Antony is Dionysos to the end. In the moment of death—not for evil motives, but either “because thirsty or hoping to be released more quickly”—he asks Kleopatra for a drink of wine, which he consumes before expiring (77.6–7). After his defeat in the Tauros range, Demetrios, a bird in Seleukos’ gilded cage, drinks himself to death in the Syrian Chersonesos. Demetrios fares worse than Antony. At first employing himself in hunting and other pursuits, he gradually abandons himself only to drinking and dicing: … either running away from his sober thoughts about his present condition and smothering his reason in drunkenness, or convinced this was the life he had always longed for and striven to attain but missed through folly and empty ambition, thereby bringing many troubles upon himself, many upon others, in weapons and fleets and armies seeking the good (τὸ ἀγαθὸν ζητῶν), which now to his surprise, he had discovered in inactivity and leisure and repose. What other limit than this exists to wars and risky adventures, for worthless kings, wicked and mindless as they are, not because they pursue luxury and pleasure instead of virtue and goodness, but because the enjoyment of true pleasure or luxury escapes their comprehension? 52.3–4

The disquisition undoubtedly alludes to the hero’s earlier pleasures at Athens.45 Spending his time with hetairai, he lavished public funds upon them and received in return invitations to their extravagant dinners, at least when not abusing boys (24, 27). As in the Antonios, however, Plutarch treats the diversions with more whimsy than damnation. About to proceed to the battle of Ipsos, he remarks self-consciously “now we leave the comic for the tragic stage” (28.1).46

45

46

A. Mastrocinque, “Demetrios tragodoumenos: Propaganda e letteratura al tempo di Demetrio Poliorcete,” Athenaeum 57 (1979) 260–276, attributes these—much deriving from Douris and Phylarchos—to a massive propaganda campaign depicting the hero as a despoiler rather than liberator (264–269). See also Kertész, “Bemerkungen.” Mossman, “Tragedy and Epic,” describes Plutarch as skillful but sparing in his use of a tragic framework, employing it primarily to express tensions and internal forces within

antonius and demetrios

191

In both Demetrios and Antonios Plutarch serves a bitter-sweet course. In the latter, Antony’s extravagance and luxury, punctuated by drinking and surrender to eros, occur principally at Ephesos, Tarsos, and Alexandria. He enters the first city with a Bacchic thiasos and instantly surrenders himself to pleasure. In Asia “the wives of kings” compete with one another to lay their virtue at his feet (24.1). But like Demetrios, he exacts a heavy price there, laying hands on the wealth of Asia (24). In 28 a foreboding atmosphere begins to press upon the narrative, as the “Inimitable Livers” at Alexandria feast each other every day, making “expenditures of incredible excess,” not to mention demands upon the cook (28.3).47 In both Lives the earlier days of wine and roses marked by “conspicuous consumption”—though tinged with bitterness for the victims who had to pay for this extravagance—gradually become more morbid, even to thoughts of self-destruction. In the Demetrios considerable space separates the first profusions of extravagance (23–27) from the second (41–42) and the final excesses (52). In the penultimate chapter, in fact, Plutarch seems to evoke Demetrios’ earlier days of merrymaking in order to harmonize the section with Antony’s final days. The last chapters of both Lives link satiety and extravagance with death and the melodramatically funeral. Simultaneously, the epic or tragic quality in the final rites has an elevating or heroizing effect, like that of the magnificent burials of Patroklos and Hektor in the Iliad and Achilleus in the Odyssey or the final scenes of some Greek tragedies relating the death and funeral rites of the hero, such as those in the Trachiniai.48 In fact, Plutarch calls the obsequies for Demetrios “tragic and theatrical”—that is, filled with all the solemnity and sensitivity toward suffering and death which one associates with tragedy, and accompanied by appropriate music (53.1).49 His son Antigonos sails out with his fleet to meet the remains “off the islands.” The ashes, deposited in a golden

47 48

49

a self-destructive character. She sees the tragic overtones of Demetrios spilling over into Antonios (92–93). However, the cook seems to have a good sense of humor about it. D.P. Fowler, “First Thoughts on Closure: Problems and Prospects,” Materiali e Discussioni per l’Analisi dei Testi Classici 22 (1989) 75–122, notes the strong ending or closure of the Iliad (81–82). In his view, biography is close to drama, yet manifests great variety, even if seemingly predetermined by the birth, life, and death of the subject; for example, that “Antonius’ moment of expiry comes in a participial phrase at the opening of chapter 78,” but the work continues for another ten chapters before concluding with Nero (116). [en: E. Voutyras, “Le cadavre et le serpent ou l’ héroïsation manquée de Cléomène de Sparte,” in V. Pirenne-Delforge & E. Suárez de la Torre (eds.), Héros et héroïnes dans les mythes et les cultes grecs (Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique, 2000) 377–394.]

192

part 2, chapter 2

urn, are conveyed by the largest flagship. Cities where they pass adorn the urn with garlands or send men in funeral attire to escort it to its destination. At Corinth the urn, decorated with royal purple and a diadem, is surrounded by an honor guard on deck, while a celebrated flautist sitting beside the precious remains, plays the most sacred music (53.5): καὶ πρὸς τοῦτο τῆς εἰρεσίας ἀναφερομένης μετὰ ῥυθμοῦ τινος, ἀπήντα ψόφος ὥσπερ ἐν κοπετῷ ταῖς τῶν αὐλημάτων περιόδοις. To these sounds the stroking of the oars responds in a fixed rhythm, like beating the breast, to the cadences of the melodies of the flute.50 Throngs along the shore are overcome by pity and sorrow, seeing the young Antigonos humbled and overcome by tears. The banquets of Antony and Kleopatra at Alexandria perhaps in real life were the inspiration for the Vergilian banquets of Dido and Aeneas with their potential for desperation and self-destruction.51 In the final chapters of the Plutarchan version, “The Inseparable in Death,” or more exactly, “Those About to Die Together”—actually begin planning their departure from this world to another. Antony had attempted suicide at Paraitonion but was dissuaded by his friends (69). He then enters his Timoneion at Pharos to separate himself from the evils of civilization.52 The

50 51

52

The flautist, Xenophantos of Thebes, appears in an inscription; see Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 262; Flacelière & Chambry, Plutarque. Vies xiii, 208. Pelling, Life of Antony, 17–18, detects striking similarity between the accounts of Plutarch and Vergil, though there is no evidence for him having read Vergil. However, the wailing of babies in the approach to the celestial “underworld,” De genio 590f (μυρίων δὲ κλαυθμὸν βρεφῶν), might be inspired, at least indirectly, by Vergil, Aeneid 6.426–429; see Brenk, “The Religious Spirit,” 55–57. Plutarch’s Roman friends might have described, recited, or translated Vergil. See A.T. Davis, “Cleopatra Rediviva,” g & r 16 (1969) 91–93, for associated motifs of drinking, death, and destruction in the Cleopatra ode (Horatius, 1.37). T.E.V. Pearce, “The Tomb by the Sea: History of a Motif,” Latomus 42 (1983) 110–115, lists tombs by the sea, many of which were tourist attractions in Plutarch’s day, e.g. Achilleus in the Troad (Strabo 13.1.32) and Aias at Rhoiteion (Strabo 13.1.30). Scipio Africanus Maior’s supposedly was by the sea (Strabo 5.4.4), as was Cato Minor’s (Plutarch, Markos Katon 71), Opimius’ at Dyrrachion (Cicero, Pro Sestio 140), and in Lucanus 8.771–772; 8.816– 818, Pompeius Magnus’ on the African shore. Moreover, in Egypt Menelaos had built a cenotaph for Agamemnon (Odyssey 4.584). Pearce sees heroic pathos, with an emphasis on death in a strange land, exile, and isolation. See also, F.E. Brenk, “Unum pro multis caput: Myth, History, and Symbolic Imagery in Vergil’s Palinurus Incident,” Latomus 43 (1984)

antonius and demetrios

193

event offers an occasion for an extremely selective and rather morbid digression on Timon the Misanthrope. Two principal elements, separation from civilization and suicide, harmonize with the main plot: Timon offered his tree for anyone wishing to hang himself; and his tomb slipping into the water became “completely inaccessible to man.” But as he is deserted by the dynasts, the hero either has second thoughts about the vices of civilization or fails to grasp the opportunities and benefits of an eremitical life of contemplation which might have offered salvation to one who had formerly studied philosophy.53 He abandons the Timoneion. The life of isolation now changes to an obsessive Götterdämmerung against a backdrop of the transient pleasures of earthly phenomena. … as if gladly laying aside his hopes, thus laying aside his anxieties, he forsook his dwelling by the sea, which he called the Timoneion; received back into the palace by Kleopatra, to dinners, and drinking bouts, and the distribution of gifts, he turned the city … 71.2–3

There follows the creation of the other society “not at all inferior in daintiness and luxury and extravagant outlay,” called “Those about to Die Together (συναποθανούμενοι)” with the enrollment of friends for this purpose. At this moment, Kleopatra begins to experiment with poison.

53

776–801 (esp. 779–781), and W.S.M. Nicoli, “The Sacrifice of Palinurus,” cq n.s. 38 (1988) 459–472. The introduction of Timon, however, in Antonios produces a mock heroic or anti-heroic tone. In its function the Timoneion is suspiciously like Kleopatra’s monumenttomb? C. Pelling, “Plutarch: Roman Heroes and Greek Culture,” in M. Griffin and J. Barnes (eds.), Philosophia Togata (Oxford, 1989) 199–232, esp. 216–222, citing J. Moles, Cicero, introductory note, observes that Plutarch left two types of life open to Cicero, the political and the philosophical; but Cicero, makes a number of dispiriting choices and in the end refuses to retire to Greece and seriously pursue philosophy. Though his life is the opposite of Antony’s (Cicero 43.2), the destructive contrast is not between philosophy and public life, but between noble and ignoble public life (221–222). The Timoneion fits into the context of, especially Cynic, ideas of self-sufficiency (autarkeia). G.W. Most, “The Stranger’s Stratagem: Self-Disclosure and Self-Sufficiency in Greek Culture,” jhs 109 (1989) 114–133, believes the ideal of perfect autarkeia, closely linked to the ephemerality of human life, arises out of a profound desire among Greeks to be dependent upon no one, except the gods (129). See also F.E. Brenk, “Old Wineskins Recycled: Autarkeia in i Timothy 6.5–10,” Filologia Neotestamentaria 3 (1990) 39–51.

194

part 2, chapter 2

The night before the battle of Alexandria is also marked by this coincidence of opposites of life and death, feasting and drinking, a Dionysiac thiasos, and thoughts about the grave.54 Departing for battle against Octavius, Antony is “conscious that there was no better death for him than that by battle.” He then drinks and eats heavily, “since he is uncertain whether he will be alive on the morrow, and not lying dead a mummy (or skeleton) and nothing more” (75.2).55

54

55

Dionysos, through the mysteries, is closely linked with death and the afterlife, as well as with the pleasures of this world. See W. Burkert, Ancient Mystery Cults (Cambridge, Mass. 1987) esp. 21–23, 33–35, 104–106. See also C. Bérard & C. Bron, “Bacchos au creur de la cité. Le thiase dionysiaque dans l’ espace politique,” in L’association dionysiaque dans les societés anciennes (Paris, 1986) 13–30; see also F. Dunand, “Les associations dionysiaques au service du pouvoir lagide (iiie s. av. J.-C.),” L’ association dionysiaque, 85–104; J. Scheid, “Le thiase du Metropolitan Museum (igur i 160),” en L’association dionysiaque dans les societes anciennes (Rome 1986) 275–290; C. Segal, Dionysiac Poetics and Euripides’ Bacchae (Princeton, 1982), sees in the Dionysos complex a special relationship with women, nonintegration of adult personality, arms, anger, and phallic propensities, besides the inability to distinguish truth and illusion (159–160, 189–195, 234)—traits which Plutarch’s fertile imagination would quickly find in Antony. A. Dihle, Studien zur griechischen Biographie (Göttingen, 1965) 96, detects tragic pathos in many of Plutarch’s sayings (apophthegmata, chreiai). The skeletos was a prominent feature of Graeco-Roman banquets, the significance of which varied considerably within different contexts; Pelling, Life of Antony, 302–303. K.M.D. Dunbabin, “Sic Erimus Cuncti … The Skeleton in Graeco-Roman Art,” jdai 101 (1986) 185–255, claims the motif reached its greatest popularity in the first centuries bc and ad (194). She suggests an Egyptian origin to the custom, since wooden mummy figures a cubit or two long were common at banquets of the wealthy (Herodotos, 2.78: περιφέρει ἀνὴρ νεκρὸν ἐν σορῷ ξύλινον πεποιημένον, μεμιμημένον ἐς τὰ μάλιστα καὶ γραφῇ καὶ ἔργῳ … δεικνὺς δὲ ἑκάστῳ τῶν συμποτέων λέγει· Ἐς τοῦτον ὁρέων πῖνέ τε καὶ τέρπευ· ἔσεαι γὰρ ἀποθανὼν τοιοῦτος) 208, note 84, citing A.B. Lloyd, Herodotus Book ii. Commentary 1–98 (Leiden, 1976) 335–337; cf. Lloyd, “Herodotus on Egyptians and Libyans,” in O. Reverdin & B. Grande (eds.), Hérodote et les peuples non grecs. Entretiens sur l’ Antiquité Classique 35 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1990) 215–244; esp. 229–231. G. Wöhrle, “ ‘Eine sehr hübsche Mahn-Mumie …’ Zur Rezeption eines herodoteischen Motivs,”Hermes 118 (1990) 292–301, believes Thales’ comment on the practice in Plutarch’s Septem sapient 148b, is probably close to the Egyptian outlook: mutual affection should exist at a banquet, since life, which is short, should not be marred by evil conduct (… τὸν βίον μὴ τῷ χρόνῳ βραχὺν ὄντα πράγμασι κακοῖς μακρὸν ποιεῖν [295]). The contrast between war, strife, and the ideals of the symposion appears in a Greek inscription from Egypt G. Kaibel, Epigrammata Graeca ex Lapidibus Conlecta [Berlin, 1878] no. 1049—cited by W.J. Slater, “Sympotic Ethics in the Odyssey,” in O. Murray (ed.), Sympotika. A Symposium on the Symposion (Oxford, 1990) 213–220. Slater stresses the necessity of graciousness, good-humor (χάρις) in jesting—citing Plutarch’s Quaest. conv. 629e (214, notes 12 and 19). Plutarch alludes to the practice in Septem sapient. 148a and De Iside 357f (J.G. Griffiths,

antonius and demetrios

195

He refuses, moreover, to lead his friends out to a combat, which is only a cover for realizing his own death. At this point there follows the famous description of the Dionysiac thiasos which in the stillness of midnight, amid revelry and tumult, departs from the gate facing the enemy, a sign “that Antonius had been deserted by the god who protected him” (75.6). This too is an epic and tragic touch, much like Apollon in the Iliad abandoning Hektor before his death (22.212–213), or Artemis in Euripides’ Hippolytos withdrawing from the hero before he expires (1437–1439).56 The concept of parallel Lives affects the interpretation of the Antonios here. Judging by the Demetrios, one would expect the Life to terminate with funeral rites for Antony at the monument of Kleopatra, followed by mention of the

56

Plutarch. De Iside et Osiride [Swansea, 1970] 335–336). An excellent reproduction of the Boscoreale “Epicurus” skeleton cup can be found in Soprintendenza Archeologica di Pompei, L. Casalis et al. (eds.), Il tesoro di Boscoreale. Gli argenti del Louvre e il corredo domestico della “Pisanella,” Le Mostre 5. Soprintendenza Archeologica di Pompei (Milan, 1988) 11, pl. 14. Ostensibly the sentiment is carpe diem—enjoy life, for death is just around the corner; Cf. Lucretius, De rerum natura 3.912–915. Dunbabin sees the association of the “Inseparable in Death” (Antonios 71.3–5) in this context (194). But in some cases, particularly the more serious Epicurean groups, the skeletos suggests—with bravado—imperturbability (ataraxia) in the face of death. There could be an Isis-Osiris aspect, since Osiris mummies were popular in Egypt. The most outrageous historical example of a lugubrious banquet—à la Grande Guignol—is the Emperor Domitianus’ (Cassius Dio 67.9; Dunbabin, 195). Hatred of Domitianus would have whetted Plutarch’s appetite for condemning Antony’s dinners; Cf. S. Levin, “Plutarch’s Part in the Damnatio memoriae of the Emperor Domitian,” in Paul Roesch et al (eds.), La Béotie Antique, Lyon—Saint-Étienne, 16–20 mai 1983, Colloques Internationaux du cnrs (Paris, 1985) 283–290. Iliad 22.209–213: καὶ τότε δὴ χρύσεια πατὴρ ἐτίταινε τάλαντα, / ἐν δὲ τίθει δύο κῆρε τανηλεγέος θανάτοιο, / τὴν μὲν Ἀχιλλῆος, τὴν δ’ Ἕκτορος ἱπποδάμοιο, / ἕλκε δὲ μέσσα λαβών· ῥέπε δ’ Ἕκτορος αἴσιμον ἦμαρ, / ᾤχετο δ’ εἰς Ἀΐδαο, λίπεν δέ ἑ Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων. Euripides, Hippol. 1436–1439: Ἱππόλυτ’· ἔχεις γὰρ μοῖραν ᾗ διεφθάρης. / καὶ χαῖρ’· ἐμοὶ γὰρ οὐ θέμις φθιτοὺς ὁρᾶν / οὐδ’ ὄμμα χραίνειν θανασίμοισιν ἐκπνοαῖς· / ὁρῶ δέ σ’ ἤδη τοῦδε πλησίον κακοῦ. W.S. Barrett, Euripides. Hippolytos (Oxford, 1964) 414, cites Pausanias 2.27.1, Thoukydides 3.104.2, and i.g. 11 (2nd ed.) 1035, for keeping the dead from sacred places; and he observes that in Alkestis 22, Apollon leaves the dying Alkestis. However, though Thetis (Odyssey 24.35–97) is absent from the immediate funeral preparations for Achilleus, she has an important role in the rites, as do the Nereids; and other gods in myth perform a similar threnos over the body of their beloved. Pelling suggests Dionysos’ departure is a form of euocatio (303), citing among other, Tacitus, Historiae 5.13.1 on Jerusalem: apertae repente delubri fores e audita maior humana uox, excedere deos; simul ingens motus excedentium, but Scuderi, Antonio, 113, is sceptical and doubts its role in Augustan propaganda. See also Becher, “Augustus und Dionysos,” 96.

196

part 2, chapter 2

joint tomb there and some other tribute to the hero. She, indeed, pouring libations and embracing the urn which holds his ashes, asks to be hidden and buried with him, since the greatest of her misfortunes was “this short time I lived without you” (ὁ βραχὺς οὗτος χρόνος ὃν σοῦ χωρὶς ἔζηκα 84.7), and then departs from this life (86).57 When compared with the Demetrios, though, the Antonios almost seems to obscure the burial of the hero. Kleopatra rather than Antony becomes the central personage, along with Octavius, who ultimately appears on stage. Extremely little of the final chapters is given to the funeral of Antony, and its position is not especially significant. After the lamentations of Kleopatra over the dying Antony (77)—which risk becoming grotesque—there follows a long break until 82, when in one sentence Plutarch dispenses with the burial (82.2): … Ἀντώνιον δὲ πολλῶν αἰτουμένων θάψαι καὶ βασιλέων καὶ στρατηγῶν, οὐκ ἀφείλετο Κλεοπάτρας τὸ σῶμα Καῖσαρ, ἀλλ’ ἐθάπτετο ταῖς ἐκείνης χερσὶ πολυτελῶς καὶ βασιλικῶς, πᾶσιν ὡς ἐβούλετο χρῆσθαι λαβούσης. Antonius, demanded for burial by many kings and commanders, Caesar refused to take from Kleopatra; but the body was buried by her hands in magnificent and regal fashion, everything she asked for, receiving. The final chapter and line of the penultimate chapter, instead—after four chapters describing the last days of Kleopatra—are concerned not with the burial, but with the damnatio memoriae of Antony, and with the Nerogonia. After

57

There is an epigrammatic quality to Kleopatra’s utterance, faintly reminiscent of the Hippokrates herm at Ostia: βραχὺς ὁ βίος ‖ μακρὸν δὲ ‖ τὸν κατὰ γᾶς ‖ αἰῶνα τελε- ‖ τῶμεν βρο- ‖ τοί [foglia d’edera] πᾶσι δὲ ‖ μοῖρα φέρεσ- ‖ θαι δαίμο- ‖ νος αἶσαν ‖ ἅ τις ἂν τύχῃ. For the inscription, see P. Frassinetti, “Un frammento di Pindaro?,” Giornale Italiano di Filologia 4 (1951) 1–5; H. Hommel, “Euripides in Ostia. Ein neues Chorliedfragment und seine Umwelt,”Epigraphica 19 (1957) 109–164 (136–149) (= idem, Symbola i. Kleine Schriften zur Literatur- und Kulturgeschichte der Antike, Ed. B. Gladigow [Hildesheim and New York, 1976] 117–163 [141–152], with a “Nachwort,” 164); C. Gallavotti, “Monumentum Sicili, Miscellanea di Studi in Memoria di Marino Barchiesi,” Riv. Cult. Class. Med. 19 (1977) 399–410 (405–406); G. Sacco (ed.), Iscrizioni greche d’Italia, i. Porto. Unione Accademica Nazionale (Rome, 1984) 71–74, #52 (= f 279h, R. Kannicht and B. Snell (eds.), Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta [TrGrF] ii. Fragmenta Adespota [Göttingen, 1981] 88). There is some resemblance to Plutarch, Septem sapient. 148b: … τὸν βίον μὴ τῷ χρόνῳ βραχὺν ὄντα πράγμασι κακοῖς μακρὸν ποιεῖν.

antonius and demetrios

197

preparing the reader for a magnificent funeral, Plutarch defeats our expectations, only mentioning it in passing. The expression “by her hands,” contrasting with the magnificent escort accompanying the last remains of Demetrios, even suggests a humble, private quality to these obsequies. Moreover, not only in the finale, but throughout the Lives Plutarch has created the poetic justice which demands a magnificent funeral. Both heroes show great respect for the dead. But death grazes Antony more closely and he responds to it more continuously. Demetrios is “naturally humane” (φιλάνθρωπον φύσει, 4.1) in general, but the trait is best displayed, after his victory at Salamis, toward the vanquished enemy (17.1): So brilliant and splendid a victory coming his way adorning it still more by his humanity and kindness of heart, Demetrios buried the fallen enemy magnificently and liberated his prisoners. Moreover, upon the Athenians, from the spoils, he bestowed twelve hundred panoplies.58 Antony’s whole life is touched by premature or unexpected death.59 His grandfather Antony was executed by Marius (1). After his stepfather Lentulus was executed by Cicero in the Catilinarian conspiracy, he bitterly accused Cicero of attempting to deny Lentulus’ family burial.60 In 14, Antony delivers the famous

58

59

60

H. Martin, “The Concept of Philanthropia in Plutarch’s Lives,” AJPh 82 (1961) 164–175, discerns a fundamental relationship between philanthropia and civilization, but describes the term as rather flexible in Plutarch (174). A.E. Samuel, The Shifting Sands of History. Interpretations of Ptolemaic Egypt. Publications of the Association of Ancient Historians 2 (Lanham, Maryland and London, 1990) 78–79, remarks that there is a new type of philanthropia proclaimed in the 2nd cent. bc and evident in official documents such as P. Tebt 5—reflecting an ideology of kingship, developed by philosophers and propagandists in that century, in which the monarch becomes the personal protector of his people. C. Pelling, “Aspects of Plutarch’s Characterization,” in Marcovich (ed.), Plutarch, 257– 274, believes Plutarch missed excellent opportunities to discuss the hero’s childhood and only produces disappointing results (258); see also idem, “Childhood and Personality in Greek Biography,” in C. Pelling (ed.), Characterization and Individuality in Greek Literature (Oxford, 1990) 213–244. He claims that though Plutarch had a great interest in childhood, as a representative Greek he was unable to exploit it (225–226). See also B. Bucher-Isler, “Norm und Individualität in den Biographien Plutarchs,” Noctes Romanae 13 (Bern, 1972) 21, 24, 49, 67–68; C. Gill, “The Question of Character-Development: Plutarch and Tacitus,” cq 33 (1983) 469–487; A. Dihle, Studien zur griechischen Biographie, 81; and C. Pelling, “Plutarch: Roman Heroes and Greek Culture,” 231. C.B.R. Pelling, “Plutarch and Catiline,” Hermes 113 (1985) 311–329, suggests Plutarch used a

198

part 2, chapter 2

funeral oration over the mutilated body of his commander Caesar. Plutarch describes Antony as hypocritical but is sensitive to the powerful effect it produced on the plebs. Supposedly generosity was a family trait. His father was “kindly, honest and exceptionally generous in repaying favors” (εὐγνώμων δὲ καὶ χρηστὸς ἄλλως τε καὶ πρὸς τὰς μεταδόσεις ἐλευθέριος, 1.1).61 After the battle at Philippi, Antony acts nobly toward the fallen Brutus (even if Hortensius might have thought differently about it) (22.6–8): Standing beside the corpse of Brutus, Antony reviled him somewhat for cutting off the life of his brother Gaius (for Brutus had executed him in Makedonia, avenging Cicero); but saying that Hortensius more than Brutus should be blamed for his brother’s slaughter, he ordered Hortensius to be slaughtered on the tomb. Over Brutus, however, he cast his own purple cloak, of enormous value, and commanded one of his freedmen to provide for the burial. This person, after Antonius discovered he had not burned the purple robe with the body, but had purloined much of the allocation for the burial, he executed. The cruelest blow, then, is the literary denial of epic funeral to Antony. The reader puts away the Life, at least before reading the synkrisis, not with a funeral dirge in his ears and a complacent feeling of literary recompense, but with the disquieting note of the murders and madness of Nero. The last funeral touch, a little before, is, in fact, reserved for the Egyptian queen rather than the Roman imperator (86.7): But Caesar, though irritated at this end to her life admired her nobility, and ordered that her body be buried with that of Antonius, in splendid and regal fashion (λαμπρῶς καὶ βασιλικῶς). Honorable also was the interment which her women received at his command. Nor is the synkrisis much help. Both Demetrios and Antony are condemned for their deaths: one “by wine and belly tamed like an animal … whereas Antonius in a cowardly, pitiful, and ignoble way (δειλῶς μὲν καὶ οἰκτρῶς καὶ ἀτίμως), but

61

hypomnema (set of notes) of Ciceronian material for the later Lives, and then adapted this for the subject in hand (322), but influenced more by his immediate interest than a desire to present the version most favorable to the hero (322–324, 326). Not really, according to Pelling, Life of Antony, 117, who thinks Plutarch wanted to link father to son.

antonius and demetrios

199

at least before his enemy could make himself master of his body, he disposed of himself” (93 [6].4). But in a sense their deaths outshine the splendor of any funeral trappings, even those of Demetrios. Moreover, so utterly identified with another have Kleopatra and Antony become that her death terminating the Life becomes a tribute rather than a slur, like that of a widow or a person of a royal household who prefers extinction to living without the deceased. The parallelism of Demetrios-Antonios would be philosophically grounded for Plutarch in the Platonic doctrine of metempsychosis and the expectation of either a release from terrestrial life after death or the commencement of a new cycle of rebirth. Thus, individual circumstances fade into insignificance compared to the more stable and decisive traits of virtue or vice which the soul either brings with it from a previous existence as a spirit or from a previously sullied existence in this world. Thus, the concept of parallel lives from two distinct periods, by transcending time and space, highlights the importance of moral qualities which remain stable, even through reincarnations. This pair of Lives is so particularly rich in parallels that one seems to have influenced the other. Some similarities are moral, such as the propensity toward passionate excess in eros or drink. Others are more circumstantial, such as sailing over the same seas, tramping over the same ground, visiting the same cities, assimilation to the same gods, or a peculiar generosity toward the dead. Also characterizing the Lives is an alternation between exterior and interior space. Finally, there is a general pattern of initial success followed by isolation and defeat, demoralization and death, heroic threnody and solemn obsequies. It would be unworthy to terminate without ring composition. The enormous importance given the preparations for death in both Lives, particularly in Antonios, seems to reflect Plutarch’s interest in the future of the soul, and not just the terrestrial career alone of his heroes. The major purpose for life and a Life in this Platonic sense is its profitability for the coming one. In Antonios the importance of Kleopatra and her own devotion to Isis, a goddess related to the dead, and one of the most popular, suggests even more this other-worldly dimension to Plutarchan Lives.

chapter 3

Narrative 1

Time

The chronological arrangement of Plutarch’s Life of Antony, the récit, in the terminology of modern criticism, is extremely sraightforward.1 This simplicity contrasts drastically with some of Plutarch’s dialogues in the Moralia with an extremely complex chronological format, such as De genio, or the Amatorius.2

1 For récit and temps racontant, see G. Genette, Figures iii (Paris, 1972) 77–78 (partly translated into English as Narrative Discourse. An Essay in Method [Ithaca, 1980] 33–35); and idem, Figures of Literary Discourse (New York, 1982) 127–146; “Frontiers of Narrative” (from Figures ii [Paris, 1969]); also S. Chatman, Story and Discourse. Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film (Ithaca, 1978); and G. Prince, “Narratology: The Form and Functioning of Narrative,” Janua Linguarum 108 (1982) 26–34. The concept is G. Müller’s “Erzählzeit und erzählte Zeit” from his Morphologische Poetik (Tübingen, 1968), in Italian, “tempo della narrazione,” in English, “narration time” (vs. “narrative time”). Chatman, Story and Discourse, 62–84, prefers the expressions “story-time” and “discourse time.” Narrative time is real time, the duration of the events recounted in the narrative. “Narration time” is the material time necessary to tell the story. In dialogues, narration time is very close to narrative time, but normally it is much shorter (Genette, Figures, iii 122–144 [English 86–112]). W.C. Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago, 1961, rev. 1983) 439–441, is particularly impressed by Genette’s ideas on speed, duration, repetition, and frequency. For a survey of these modern narratological positions, see J.L. Ska, “Our Fathers Have Told Us: Introduction to the Analysis of Hebrew Narratives,” Subsidia Biblica 13 (1990). A. Deremetz, “Plutarque: histoire de l’origine et genèse du récit,” reg 103 (1990) 54–78, interprets the Life of Romulus according to Ricœur’s “Temp et Récit.” He sees Plutarch bringing the reader into the actual “hermeneutical” process of the récit, as he examines contradictory versions, evidence, problems involved, and as he attributes relative credibility to the ability of the account to solve the problems, the aporiai (62). The Life of Romulus is, thus, a “mise en intrigue” in which the “heterogeneous taxonomies,” through the archetype of heroic myth and the corresponding matrix of Diokles as a source, become (re)composed into an intelligible cosmos which is not only coherent but also necessary and purposeful (72–73). [en: H.D. Betz, “Credibility and Credulity in Plutarch’s Life of Numa Pompilius,” in idem, Gesammelte Aufsätze. 5: Paulinische Theologie und Religionsgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 191–207; idem, “Plutarch’s Life of Numa: Some Observations on Graeco-Roman messianism,” idem, Gesammelte Aufsätze, 166– 190.] 2 Daimonion here means something like “the supernatural phenomenon” and is misleadingly translated into Latin as genius. The Loeb editors translate it as “divine sign,” but as P.R. Hardie

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_018

narrative

201

In De genio, for example, we find, in dizzying order, recollections of the past, predictions of the future, admonitions from the tomb, a “daimonic” time which neither belongs to the eternity of the Platonic Forms (or Ideas) nor to mortal time, and which is intensely preoccupied with the critical moment (kairos) in history. Plutarch’s conception of time in this dialogue helps illuminate that in the Antonios. In De genio, there are two parallel lines of development. One consists of the historical events of the Theban revolution against Sparta of 379bc Running simultaneously with this is a discussion among the conspirators over the daimonion, the supernatural phenomenon which advised Sokrates. The two principal threads of the essay, the discussion over the daimonion and the story of the uprising, are not entirely independent, since the speakers are involved in the conspiracy and the events of the conspiracy impinge upon or punctuate the course of the discussion (the dialogue in the strict sense). Moreover, within the dialogue an eschatological “myth of Timarchos,” which describes the journey of the soul through celestial spheres to arrive at the aldilà, postulates successive reincarnations in this life. Thus, the immediate events of the historical narration, so vividly anchored in time, receive a contrasting, quasi-temporal or almost a-temporal framework in the cyclical phenomenon of the ascent and descent of souls subjected to reincarnation. Moreover, warnings from the tomb of Alkmena and the communication of the dead Lysis to Theanor serve as voices from the past communicating with the present.3 Added to

wittily remarks in “Sign Language in On the Sign of Socrates,” in Luc Van der Stockt (ed.), A Miscellany of Essays on Plutarch (Leuven, 1996) 123–136, above all, the one thing the daimonion is not, is a sign, since the daimonic converses directly with men. On the dialogue see M. Riley, “The Purpose and Unity of Plutarch’s De genio Socratis,” grbs 18 (1977) 257–273; A. Aloni, “Ricerche sulla forma letteraria del De genio Socratis di Plutarco,” Acme 33 (1980) 41–112; P. Desideri, “Il De genio Socratis di Plutarco: Un esempio di ‘storiografia tragica?’,” Athenaeum, n.s. 72 (1984) 569–585; K. Döring, “Plutarch und das Daimonion des Sokrates (Plut., de genio Socratis Kap. 20–24),” Mnemosyne 37 (1984) 376–392; A. Barigazzi, “Plutarco e il dialogo ‘drammatico’,” Prometheus 14 (1988) 141–163 (141–154); D. Babut, “La part du rationalisme dans la religion de Plutarque: l’ exemple du De genio Socratis,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 383–408; A. Barigazzi, “Una nuova interpretazione del De genio Socratis,” ibidem, 409–425. 3 At 579e–f Theanor, the Pythagorean stranger from Magna Graecia, spends the night at the tomb of Lysis intending to remove the remains unless “something supernatural” (ti daimonion) in his sleep should prevent him. At 583b he remarks that to daimonion of Lysis had revealed his death to them (probably something supernatural emanating from Lysis, rather than Lysis’ daimon, as translated in the Loeb edition by De Lacy and Einarson, Plutarch’s Moralia vii [London / Cambridge, Mass., 1959] 421). In 585e a certain sign (semeion)

202

part 2, chapter 3

this communication between past and present are “flashbacks” into legendary Theban myth or previous history. Three alternating times appear in the dialogue: the succession of events in the historical narration, the somewhat timeless or slow-moving discussion of Sokrates’ daimonion by the participants in the dialogue proper, and the quasitemporality of the daimones in the philosophical myth, which involves souls passing to or from reincarnation. Subordinate to the others is a fourth time, that of a past narrated in analepses (flashbacks).4 The historical narration, in no way a “cold” narrative, is constantly affected by the psychological world of surprise, despair, and elation, of souls in bodies as it were, the miserable creatures described in the dialogues of Plato’s middle period, and by the unforgettable verses of Vergil’s underworld (Aeneid 6.733–734). Each of these lines of development receives a different kind of récit time. In modern critical terms, the récit (or “narrating” or “story”) time taken to narrate the dialogue proper, the discussion on Sokrates’ daimonion, is roughly equal to the time consumed by the event itself. Obviously, the “narrating” of the historical events is very condensed, though they occurred—conveniently for Plutarch and for Aristotelian theories about drama—in a twenty-four-hour time span. The daimonic time of the myth, however, eludes definition. The souls, or daimones (mind [nous] + psyche), travel very lightly and almost at the speed of light. Their only real baggage is the weight and recalcitrance of the

appearing in the sleep of the Pythagoreans had revealed the death of Lysis. At 585f Theanor, who summons the soul of Lysis, sees no vision but hears a voice saying “move not the immoveable.” Lysis’ soul has already been “joined by lot to another daimon and released for reincarnation” (585f), suggesting, surprisingly, that reincarnation is immediate, not after an immensely long period, as in Plato. 4 See Genette, Figures iii, 77–121. Analepsis (flashback) is the telling of events after the moment in which they took place chronologically; “prolepsis” is anticipation; “ellipsis” is a gap, a lack of information contrived by temporal displacement; Cf. M. Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Bloomington, 1985) 237. Gaps are relevant to the narration. See also H. Weinrich, “Tempus: Besprochene und erzählte Welt,” Sprache und Literatur 16 (Stuttgart, 1964); J. Vogt, Aspekte erzählender Prosa: Grundstudium Literaturwissenschaft (Düsseldorf, 1972) 40–53; A. Marchese, L’officina del racconto. Semiotica della narrativa (Milan, 1983) 132–153; C. Segre, Introduction to the Analysis of a Literary Text (Bloomington, 1988) 223–234 (= idem, Avviamento all’analisi del testo letterario [Turin, 1985] 273–274), and idem, Structures and Time. Narration, Poetry, Models (Chicago, 1979) 18–19 (= Le strutture e il tempo. Narrazione, poesia, modelli [Turin, 1974] 24–26). Segre (Structures and Time, 5–57) stresses the interdependence of narrative and cultural models, holding that the semiotic models, which unlike those of logic or mathematics are historical, have the same convergence points as the cultural or societal ones.

narrative

203

psyche they drag behind them. Thus, the duration of the récit of their voyage can be considered roughly equivalent to their actual supersonic ascent through the heavens. Behind the temporality of this dialogue are some fundamental ideas about time in Antiquity. First, as a Platonist, Plutarch was well aware of the a-temporality of the Platonic Forms. At least on one occasion he attributes to God the eternal or instantaneous time in which Being exists. He was acquainted with the cyclic time of the Stoic conflagration and reintegration of the world (ekpyrosis and apokatastasis). Possibly he knew of discussion on the nature of time during the conflagration (ekpyrosis), when there is no ordered universe (kosmos) against which to measure motion, the foundation of our perception of past and present. There were other debates over the nature of cyclical time, whether events and persons repeated themselves exactly, or almost so, with slight changes in each reconstitution of the universe. The Epicureans, moreover, needed atoms which travelled at incredible velocity, “at a speed like that of thought,” in a disintegrating universe which had little chance of identical reconstitution.5 For a Platonist the human soul does, or at least might, enter the stream of life more than once. Still, reincarnation is not mentioned in the Lives. The nearest hint appears in the introduction to the Broutos, where daimones are clearly beings who interfere in the lives of good men, terrorizing them so as to remove them from the path of virtue, lest they receive “a better portion” in the next life than the daimon himself. Still, Plutarch maintains the biographical fiction (at least for a Platonist) that life is a ‘one shot’ affair, that there is no possibility of reprieve by returning to one’s starting point. Nonetheless, in its essence the concept of parallel Lives intimates that the individual circumstances of the period in which we live are relatively indifferent compared to good or evil character asserting itself under many different conditions. Thus, should Demetrios live again, he might not have corrected his false opinions, during the years of his intermediate or transient purgatory, and might affect events and be affected by them in a way not dissimilar to that of his previous existence. The individual epoch of our transitory existence is not tremendously important. Human situations repeat themselves and certain human traits reappear again and again. The phenomenal world is only one part 5 See Long & Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers i, 304–313; #47–48, 50, 72; ii, 301–309, #43– 46, 75–78; R. Sorabji, Time, Creation and the Continuum. Theories in Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (London, 1983) 21–32, 80–83,98–130; idem, Matter, Space and Motion. Theories in Antiquity and Their Sequel (Ithaca, 1988) 160–185; and J. Whittaker, God Time Being. Two Studies in the Transcendental Tradition in Greek Philosophy. so Fasc. Supplet. 23 (Oslo, 1971).

204

part 2, chapter 3

of reality, and the minor part. As the reader moves from Life to Life, he experiences transmigration in a microcosmic way, entering different phenomena and a different time, being vicariously reincarnated. So he might himself move from life to life, being progressively reborn in a chronological order. Individual events are subordinate to the exercise of “virtue” (arete) in each reincarnation. In the general composition of the Lives, one oscillates between two blocks of time, one for the “glory that was Greece,” another for the “grandeur that was Rome.” At times the two paths cross, as in the Lives of Flamininus and Philopoimen, but this is the exception which proves the rule. Generally a rather large temporal distance divides the two protagonists, such as the 4th– 3rd centuries bc, in which Demetrios operated, and the 1st century bc in which Antony lived. In the light of regeneration, however, temporal distancing is a necessity. The manner of dividing a récit into two distinct but interacting units is one of the earliest features of Greek literature, already operative in the Homeric poems, especially in the Iliad. The discussions of the gods above alternate with and determine human events below. The gods have little use for the atemporality of the Platonic Forms.6 They drink, eat, and, whether tired or not, retire to their couches to enjoy the pleasures of Aphrodite. Thus, their existence resembles the cyclical temporality of the heavenly bodies. At the same time, they experience human time. They observe and enter into the general narrative of the war. And there is progression within their own society, even if largely mental or emotional. Certain decisions are made, certain compromises and agreements are decided upon, and they become aware of mistakes or impasses. They must habituate themselves to an unpleasant decision or outcome. But because they are free of the imperative of death, they can view human events with more detachment. They do deeply empathize with the human condition. They can show anxiety, for example, as does Here before the threats of her consort Zeus, the wielder of the thunderbolt. But they do not like the human protagonists face the prospect of declining powers, fading beauty, old age, and death.

6 According to J. Whittaker, “The ‘Eternity’ of the Platonic Forms,” Phronesis 13 (1968) 131– 144—though contested by Sorabji, Time, Creation and the Continuum, 105–107—the Forms exist forever, but without being given non-duration by Plato. Aristotle’s god, however, clearly has eternal duration (Sorabji, 127). On the other hand, in the new and radical solution of Augustinus, past, present, and future are nothing more than mental states (Sorabji, 29). Some of the Stoic positions seem to foreshadow “imaginary time;” see S.W. Hawking, A Brief History of Time. From the Big Bang to Black Holes (New York, 1988) 136–141.

narrative

205

In De genio, the philosophical discussion remains somewhat independent of the anxieties of the acting conspirators, but still parallels it. The progression of the dialogue is positive, leading to an appreciation of virtue and its reward in the next life, and understanding of divine guidance awarded virtuous men. Sokrates in the eyes of many came to a wretched end. But in the eyes of Middle Platonism, his death only liberated him for the ascent into higher regions and, presumably, final purification and the vision. Readers of Plutarch’s other dialogues would surmise that eventually Sokrates’ soul (psyche) would be separated from his intellect (nous), and as pure intelligence he would enter the divine sphere, beyond the vicissitudes and temporality of the human and daimonic worlds. Simultaneously, the outcome of the philosophical discussion harmonizes with that of the historical events. Though related in a gripping way, with anxious moments and unexpected complications, and with the interventions of chance, the final pages provide a felicitous ending, “all’s well that end’s well.” The termination of the dialogue, then, is almost the opposite of the tragic or semi-tragic endings of most Plutarchan biographies. Though debated recently, one could argue as well that the anxieties of the participants were unwarranted, since behind the apparent “illegibility” of the human flow of events was the guidance of the daimones.7 The daimones, souls who once engaged in the human endeavor, like former athletes, run along the course, encouraging the others from the sidelines, or like swimmers who have reached the shore, stretch out a hand to those still struggling in the waves. In the Antonios, Plutarch employs another scheme of two different temporal modes. Antony, like all mortals, races against the clock. He must take advantage of the moment in an historical world where “timing is everything.” Supposedly, for narratology, travelling is the supreme expression of temporality.8 Antony, like Demetrios, is always on the move, if not actually fleeing. For most of the 7 D. Babut, “La part du rationalisme dans la religion de Plutarque,” 385–386, argues for a great amount of rationalism in the dialogue, and notes that mention is never made of direct divine intervention in the course of the historical events. However, Plutarch may have been following genres, as in the case of Moralia in contrast to Lives. Moralia allows a great amount of supernatural interference, while the Lives tend to omit it altogether or speak in rather general terms, such as “seeing that the daimonion did not wish,” etc. But Plutarch surely must have intended the reader to believe that during the revolution at least Epameinondas was guided by the supernatural. Moreover, it is difficult to believe that the discourse of the rationalist Galaxidoros is on the same level as those of the Pythagoreans, even if Plutarch did not necessarily endorse one particular view, or all of them. [en: See, however, the volume edited by A.G. Nikolaïdis, (ed.), The Unity of Plutarch’s Work: Moralia Themes in the Lives. Features of the Lives in the Moralia (Berlin; New York: de Gruyter, 2008).] 8 So M. Bettini, “ ‘In cammino’: riflessioni di antropologia letteraria,” in idem, Antropologia

206

part 2, chapter 3

final part of the biography events are beyond his control, as he becomes the victim of a runaway destiny. Thus, the récit of human events suggests little respite from the incessant press of events. In De genio, the rather dispassionate inquiry of the participants into the “supernatural” of Sokrates offered a striking paradox, with the preoccupations of conspirators devastated or elated by every rumor. But in Antonios, the “quiet scenes” often reveal the same sense of inquietude and abandonment to the phenomenal, the same entrapment, perhaps even the same death urge, as ultimately appears in the more active scenes on the public stage of politics and military campaigning. Antonios’ vice is the mortal sin of Platonism, to be so enmeshed in the phenomena of this world and, in particular, to be so tossed by every wind of passion as to leave no moment for contemplation of one’s true destiny. But before examining the contrasts between active and quiet scenes, we should consider the simplicity of the biography’s chronological structure. What is most striking is the straightforward manner of the telling, without many ellipses (gaps), or analepses (flashbacks), though it is characterized by the alternation of non-military “quiet” scenes with those of rapid and tempestuous military engagements. For example, Plutarch dispenses with Antony’s origins in one chapter. Except for his being reared by a stepfather, Cornelius Lentulus, nothing is said of his childhood. His youth up to the campaign with Gabinius takes another chapter. Thus, the first 25 or 28 years of the hero’s life are covered in only two chapters.9 The campaign in Palestine and Egypt (57–54bc) is dismissed in one chapter. The next nine years are compressed into another four and a half chapters of historical narration. However, two chapters of reflection on Antony’s character create the psychological effect of elongating the narrating of the historical events of these years. The psychological or “Kallimachean” time of the Life is evident from the narration of events preceding the murder of Caesar and its aftermath, a very short period in real life (“narrative” or “story time”) but occupying five chapters in the Life (“narration” or “discourse time”).

e cultura romana. Parentela, tempo, immagini dell’anima (Rome, 1986) 144–152, citing (146) Seneca, De breuitate uitae 3.2. R. Barthes, The Semiotic Challenge (New York, 1988) 212 (= idem, L’ aventure sémiologique [Paris, 1985] 184), without mentioning Ricœur, notes that contemporary researchers give primacy to logic over chronology, vs. Propp, who argued for the irreducibility of the chronological order; Cf. C. Bremond, “Logique du récit,” Collection Poétique (Paris, 1973) 30, note 1, supporting Propp against C. Lévi-Strauss, “La structure et la forme,” Cahiers de l’ Institut de Science Économique Appliquée 99 (1960) 3–36 (29). 9 The year of his birth is unknown. Plutarch’s sources gave either fifty-six or fifty-three years old at his death in 30 bc (86). Pelling, Life of Antony, 322–323, gives evidence for preferring fifty-three.

narrative

207

The narration then speeds up slightly to cover the defeat of the tyrannicides (six chapters). Another chapter (23) brings us to 41 bc. Then eight chapters are dedicated primarily to the private, or semi-public, life of Antony, before the defeat of Sextus Pompeius and the termination of the disastrous Parthian Campaign (36 bc). The Parthian Campaign, though quite brief in Antony’s real life, consumes an enormous amount of narration time, though there is an interlude in 35 with Octavia’s distress and the pact at Tarentum, and in 36 with a reflection on Antony’s passion for Kleopatra. The Parthian Campaign of 36 bc, slows down the récit, with fifteen chapters dedicated to the military events of the campaign, and one chapter to its aftermath. An interlude takes place in 53, in which Kleopatra supposedly wards off the influence of Octavia, her rival for Antony’s affection; in 54, with the donations of Alexandria; and in 55, which details Octavius’ propaganda campaign against the hero. The reader would probably be oblivious to the fact that almost five years have passed by in three chapters consisting largely of infighting between Octavia, Kleopatra, and Antony. By 56 we are preparing for the battle at Actium. Suddenly the récit slows to a snail’s pace. Time is no longer measured as much by the orderly progression of the celestial bodies, the time of Plato and Aristotle, as by the human psyche’s perception of events, “the temporality” of Augustinus, in part because of the momentousness of the event, but also because of the momentousness to the hero.10 Thus, only a year slips by, though narrated in fourteen chapters. Another five chapters concern the fighting of a single day. “Slow motion” almost becomes “stop motion.” A final dragging of narration time occurs in the description of the final year at Alexandria just before Antony’s death. A total of eighteen chapters are dedicated to this tragic and even lugubrious period, followed by another chapter devoted to the Nachleben—or the Nerogonia—the destiny of Antony’s children and grandchildren. The narration of these events contrasts strikingly with Actium or the Parthian Campaign, récits of equal length. In this final section the narration “decelerates” to an even greater degree to depict Kleopatra’s final days amid threnodic swan songs. The time span is uncertain, but the impression is one of only a few days. Kleopatra’s final weeks and demise consume nine chapters in all, a very considerable part of a Life of eighty-seven chapters, and excepting the one-day naval encounter of Actium, the most “extended” part 10

Discussed by P. Ricoeur, Time and Narrative iii (Chicago, 1988), “The Time of the Soul and the Time of the World: The Dispute between Augustine and Aristotle,” 12–22 (= Temps et récit iii [Paris, 1985], “Temps de l’ âme et temps du monde: Le débat entre Augustin et Aristote,” 19–36).

208

part 2, chapter 3

of the récit. The phenomenon is extraordinary. Even if “a queen, and a great queen,” she emerges from the shadows of her supporting role to terminate the Life in a manner hardly comprehensible from the paradigms of previous Lives.

2

The Unified Plot

In this narrating of the active and private lives of Antony and of the death of Kleopatra, we find a very unified plot with each event leading into the other and almost all extraneous matter suppressed.11 The overall impression is much less episodic than that resulting from Demetrios where the logical connections between events often remain mysterious. The episodes in the Roman Life all bear on the main narrative, though some were selected primarily to illustrate character, such as Antony’s early gallantry in the attacks on Jerusalem and Pelousion.12 11

12

See R. Scholes & R. Kellog, The Nature of Narrative (New York, 1966) 207–239, esp., 214; Genette, Figures iii, 72; Chatman, Story and Discourse, 19–22. In the unified plot all the episodes are relevant to the narrative and have a bearing on the outcome of the events recounted. In an episodic plot there is a rather disconnected narration. R.S. Crane, “The Concept of Plot and the Plot of Tom Jones,” in R.S. Crane (ed.), Critics and Criticism, Ancient and Modern (Chicago, 1952) 616–647, distinguishes three main types of episodic plot (action, character, thought): change in situation, change of values (in the protagonist), and change in thought and feeling. But, as in Antonios, a single narrative usually combines several kinds of plots. Plutarch should be primarily interested in a change of values, but he usually speaks, instead, of revelation of character. Following Aristotle’s Poetics, Chatman speaks of plots of resolution and revelatory plots (48). Most ancient literature contains plots of resolution, but since Plutarch’s interest is primarily biographical and ethical, in a certain sense his plots are those of revelation. R. Barthes, s/z (New York, 1974) 17 (= idem, Paris, 1970, 21), uses the term “hermeneutics,” functions which articulate in various ways a question and its response, sometimes done by chance events. Chatman, Story and Discourse, 53–56 also speaks of “kernels” (Barthes’ “noyaux”)—narrative moments which give rise to cruxes, the branching points upon which the structure rides, e.g., Achilleus giving up Briseis—and “satellites,” minor non-crucial events which entail no choice but depict the consequences of choices made in the kernels. Pelling, Life of Antony, 33–36, notes how Plutarch reshaped episodes, moved stories to different contexts, or transferred them from one person to another, how he exaggerated and simplified, borrowed from stereotypes, fabricated details (even perhaps inventing a major river and a range of hills), conflated events, and otherwise took great liberties, much like a novelist. At the same time, he avoids total fabrication; for example, he did not construct an imaginary boyhood for Antony. See also, C.B.R. Pelling, “Truth and Fiction in Plutarch’s Lives,” in A.D. Russel (ed.), Antonine Literature (Oxford, 1990) 19–53, esp. 38.

narrative

209

Plutarch almost scrupulously avoids foreshadowing and flashback (prolepsis and analepsis). One exception occurs in the narration of Antony’s stay at Leuke after the Parthian defeat (51). Before narrating the arrival of Kleopatra, he mentions Antony’s campaign of revenge against the Armenians, and the triumph over Artavasdes celebrated in Alexandria in 34 bc, two years later. This dislocation is caused by Plutarch’s desire to communicate how Antony responded to his troops’ demands to punish the “Armenian,” and, perhaps, by the technical benefit of squeezing the later invasion and triumph into minimal narration space. The chapter ends with the self-conscious “but all this took place at a later date.” Short analepses occur elsewhere. In 35 we first learn of Antony’s two daughters by Octavia, though they were born sometime before. In 54 (5) an analepsis conveys the information that Antony “was hated, too, because of the donations made to his children in Alexandria,” and another flashback mentioning the birth of Caesarion leads us back to Kleopatra’s pregnancy, through Caesar. However, these analepses do not constitute an extended narrative, or a flashback in the full sense. The description of the Battle of Actium, however, is an exception to the rule. Plutarch first describes the flight of Antony, his boarding Kleopatra’s ship, and their arrival at Tainaron. He then reverses himself, narrating the situation of the fleet at Actium, “which held out for a long time” (68.1), the surrender of the fleet and the army after seven days, and the flight of Canidius. Next comes Octavius’ arrival in Athens, during which Plutarch injects another analepsis, his grandfather’s story of how the Chaironeians were forced under the whip to transport grain to Antony’s ships. Similarly, after Antony’s death in chapters 76–77, Kleopatra’s attempted suicide, and “Caesar’s” entry into Alexandria with the philosopher Areios (80), several events are narrated, including the fate of Antony’s sons, the vengeance on the slave who betrayed Antyllus (81), and the execution of Caesarion (82). The temporal sequence for Antyllus’ death is uncertain. Caesarion clearly was murdered after Kleopatra’s death. The reason for this foreshadowing is puzzling and its appearance is rather obtrusive. Some suspense, though, is created for Kleopatra’s death, as well as an atmosphere of inexorability, since even the innocent are slain. Finally, the time frame is broken by analepsis in 86 to explain Kleopatra’s death by the asp, and by foreshadowing later at 87, through the Nachleben, the genealogy of Antony’s descendants to Nero. However, these exceptions prove the rule that analepsis or prolepsis is minimal, economically designed to insert “background information”. The Nachleben ironically suggests the ending of those Euripidean dramas which play with the audience’s perception of a future which in fact belongs to the fantastic and legendary past.

210

part 2, chapter 3

The fleeting character of Antony’s life is characterized by his constant movements, as it was for Demetrios. The military-political narration of Antony’s life, in particular, is marked by urgency and flight. Travelling and, above all, flight underscores the brevity, fragility, and temporality of human life.13 At first Antony profits from his accelerated movements. Later, losing control of events and frittering away his opportunities, flight becomes not only a mode of temporary salvation, but also an escape from reality. Plutarch skillfully laces his account with premonitions of this phenomenon long before the ultimate catastrophe. Antony arrives on the stage in a vigorous state of attack. He begins gloriously as a young officer on the Palestinian and Egyptian campaigns of Gabinius. Like Patroklos in the Iliad, he mounts the highest fortifications at Jerusalem, and, more successfully than his model, drives Aristoboulos from the walls, initiates battle, and turns the king to flight. In Gaza he arrives with his cavalry, occupies a narrow pass, takes Pelousion, and assures Gabinius’ victory (3). Plutarch devotes much to this aspect of Antony’s career and relatively little to the campaign at Philippi, possibly to underscore the effect of initial success followed by decline. Antony thus contrasts dramatically with Demetrios, who starts badly (also in Egypt), but wins great success at Kypriote Salamis before disintegration begins. Other chapters reflect this aspect of relentless movement. In chapter 5 Antony is driven from the Senate by the consul Lentulus. In 7, while fleeing the ships of Pompeius Magnus, he remarkably escapes the galleys of the enemy, but then is carried along by forces out of his control (7.4– 5): καὶ γενόμενος καταφανὴς τοῖς πολεμίοις καὶ διωκόμενος, τὸν μὲν ἐκ τούτων κίνδυνον διέφυγε, λαμπροῦ νότου κῦμα μέγα … ἐκφερόμενος δὲ ταῖς ναυσὶ πρὸς κρημνοὺς καὶ φάραγγας ἀγχιβαθεῖς … Being discovered by the enemy and pursued, he escaped the danger from them, since a violent Notos brought a heavy swell … but he was carried with his ships toward cliffs and precipices running deep into the sea. After running, though not fleeing, at the Lupercalia in 12, he gets a foretaste of his Parthian campaign in 17. Following the Battle of Mutina, while escaping

13

Plutarch, De E, following Herakleitos, claims that it is impossible to lay hold twice of any substance in a permanent state; it is alway “coming and going” (πρόσεισι καὶ ἄπεισιν) 392c; cf. 392ef.

narrative

211

the forces of Hirtius and Pansa, he is reduced to the most dire straits of exhaustion and hunger (17.3–6): Φεύγοντι δ’ Ἀντωνίῳ πολλὰ συνέπιπτε τῶν ἀπόρων, ὁ δὲ λιμὸς ἀπορώτατον … ἀπὸ τρυφῆς τοσαύτης καὶ πολυτελείας ὕδωρ τε πίνων διεφθαρμένον εὐκόλως καὶ καρποὺς ἀγρίους καὶ ῥίζας προσφερόμενος. ἐβρώθη δὲ καὶ φλοιὸς ὡς λέγεται, καὶ ζῴων ἀγεύστων πρότερον ἥψαντο τὰς Ἄλπεις ὑπερβάλλοντες. Upon Antonius fleeing, many difficulties fell; famine was the most inescapable … after such a life of extravagance and luxury, content to be drinking foul water and eating wild fruit and roots. Bark was also eaten, supposedly, and they laid their hands on animals never tasted before— while traversing the Alps. In chapter 33, he is rather implausibly driven to flight by the pronouncement of an Egyptian seer who advises him to put the greatest possible distance between his daimon and that of “Caesar,” and he quickly departs from Rome. Two of the most important events of the Life, the Parthian Campaign and the Battle of Actium, become, essentially, tales of movement and flight. The first of these is upon the terra firma, the second over the water of the sea, a symbol of instability and endless motion. The récit of the Parthian campaign is especially impressive for the amount of space dedicated to the anabasis, the retreat, in contrast to the katabasis, the invasion or inward march. Even if the retreat was more eventful psychologically, the distance covered by Antony’s army in the advance was the same. But in the narration beginning at chapter 38, only two chapters are devoted to the advance, while twelve account for the more critical and dramatic retreat. Antony himself had no illusions. The hero remarks that the Parthians must restore the captured standards “lest he be thought altogether satisfied with reaching safety” (40.6). Obviously, Antony’s most memorable flight is his ignominious turning tail at Actium, when the Queen hoists her sails for Egypt (66.8): οὐ γὰρ ἔφθη τὴν ἐκείνης ἰδὼν ναῦν ἀποπλέουσαν, καὶ πάντων ἐκλαθόμενος, καὶ προδοὺς καὶ ἀποδρὰς τοὺς ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ μαχομένους καὶ θνῄσκοντας, εἰς πεντήρη μεταβάς, Ἀλεξᾶ τοῦ Σύρου καὶ Σκελλίου μόνων αὐτῷ συνεμβάντων, ἐδίωκε τὴν ἀπολωλεκυῖαν ἤδη καὶ προσαπολοῦσαν αὐτόν. For he wasted no time once he saw her ship sailing away, then oblivious of everything else, betraying and running away from those fighting and

212

part 2, chapter 3

dying on his behalf … hastened after the woman who had already ruined him and would bring additional ruin.14 Plutarch underscores the temporal urgency: Antony “hastens” (ἐδίωκε) after the woman who had already ruined him and would ruin him even more. He sits down in silence, holding his head in his hands, and is carried along. Only the attack of Eurykies attempting to avenge his father’s death at the hands of Antony rouses the hero to defend himself. His cowardliness is contrasted with the valor of the fleet, which continued fighting for a “long time” and surrendered “only when damaged by the high seas, and at the tenth hour,” and by that of the army, which “held together for seven days” (68.1, 68.4). The final portent signaling an end of supernatural aid in the affairs of this world is a mysterious Dionysiac thiasos which abandons Alexandria (75). In 76 Antony, an anti-Hektor, retires into the City for the last time.

3

The Episodic Plot

The account of the hero’s “private life” is at least partially episodic.15 The presumed intention of these vignettes is to reveal character through the small traits which offer a great revelation of the soul.16 Nevertheless, there is a definite

14 15 16

Following Pelling’s text which rejects Ziegler’s conjecture: τὴν ⟨ἑαυτὴν⟩ ἀπολωλεκυῖαν. Scholes & Kellog, The Nature of Narrative, 208–210, give as examples of the episodic plot Gilgamesh and Beowulf. In modern terminology, one finds “dynamic” and “static” characters, “flat” or “round;” but Chatman proposes a distinction between “trait” and “habit” (119–134). A “trait” is “a great system of interdependent habits,” and a “habit” is a tendency to repeat regularly the same action, gesture, or words in similar circumstances. As Chatman, Story and Discourse, 122– 123, notes—and his point is very pertinent for the Lives—some habits can be inconsistent with a trait. Plutarch’s minor characters are generally rather “flat” as is the almost invisible Octavius in Antonios. Plutarch describes Kleopatra as very complex, and her actions correspond to this complexity, in spite of his propagandistic sources and influences. The Russian Formalists and French Structuralists tried to go beyond the surface of characters and elaborated a system of “functions” (V. Propp, Morphologie du conte russe [Paris, 1966]); or “actants” (A.-J. Greimas, Sémantique structurale. Recherche de méthode [Paris, 1966] 192–195). For comments see R. Scholes, Structuralism in Literature. An Introduction (New Haven, 1974) 104–117; J. Culler, Structuralist Poetics. Structuralism, Linguistics and the Study of Literature (London, 1985); R.M. Polzin, “Biblical Structuralism: Method and Subjectivity in the Study of Ancient Texts,” Semeia Supplements 5 (Philadelphia, 1977). For a semiotic approach see P. Hamon, “Pour un statut sémiologique du personnage,” in R. Barthes,

narrative

213

progression. In De genio the philosophical part contains an optimistic view of the fate of the virtuous soul, an exposition which progresses in stages through the contributions of the participants. Thus, the semi-static discussion parallels the optimistic plot of the “phenomenal” events, the liberation of Thebes. So in Antonios, the more static part, the semi-private life of Antony, contains its own progression and inner dynamic, which parallels the hero’s disastrous course in the political and military world. Though rather episodic, this plot line has a strong temporal dimension, because the relationships change between the major characters in a chronological framework of political alliances and wars. Overtly Antony is eventually overcome by passion, above all by his love for Kleopatra, but also by drink, and in more general terms, dissolution and neglect of duty. This development is rather complex, especially in view of the previous Life, where Demetrios simply drinks himself to death in his forced (and enforced) retirement. The Life begins with Antony’s sociability and generosity, laudable traits from his father. Drinking, womanizing, and extravagant expenditures are still reformable in chapter 2, when he abandons his evil influence, Curio. There is “method in his madness” also, since his carousing wins the affection of his troops (4). In chapter 9 among more debauchery—women, wine, song, and the like—his travelling companion, Cytheris, is introduced. The description of his excursions with their display and extravagance foreshadows his entry later into Ephesos. In 9 he pitches tents while laying out costly repasts near groves and rivers, abuses the hospitality of honest men and women, and arrives in chariots drawn by lions. Much later, at Ephesos (24), he arrives like Bacchos—who in some accounts and representations is famous for his panther chariot—and is surrounded by actors and pests (24.4– 5): εἰς γοῦν Ἔφεσον εἰσιόντος αὐτοῦ, γυναῖκες μὲν εἰς Βάκχας, ἄνδρες δὲ καὶ παῖδες εἰς Σατύρους καὶ Πᾶνας ἡγοῦντο διεσκευασμένοι, κιττοῦ δὲ καὶ θύρσων καὶ ψαλτηρίων καὶ συρίγγων καὶ αὐλῶν ἡ πόλις ἦν πλέα, Διόνυσον αὐτὸν ἀνακαλουμένων Χαριδότην καὶ Μειλίχιον. ἦν γὰρ ἀμέλει τοιοῦτος ἐνίοις, τοῖς δὲ πολλοῖς Ὠμηστής … Coming into Ephesos, at any rate, women dressed like Bacchai, and men and boys like Satyrs and Pans proceeded him, and of ivy and thyrsos

W.C. Booth, P. Hamon, & W. Kayser, Poétique du récit (Paris, 1977) 115–180. Cf. Chatman, Story and Discourse, 15–17.

214

part 2, chapter 3

wands and harps and pan-pipes and flutes the city was full, the people hailing him as Dionysos, Giver of Joy and Beneficent. He was, indeed, to some, but to the greater part, the Carnivorous and Savage … The animalistic images in 9 contribute to the “carnivorous and savage” aspect of Antony-Dionysos, developed in 24. In 36 Antony is again associated with the animalistic. He is an example of Plato’s stubborn and unmanageable soul, like a horse kicking against the traces and resisting all that was noble and saving. Even so, for a considerable time, Antony exploits such revels for political advantage, without incurring the wrath of his biographer. The image of procession and movement in the rather episodic and “revelatory” plot that of his private life, parallels the campaigns and flight in the military-political plot. Antony, like his divine model, Dionysos, is always on the move. His entry as Neos Dionysos into Ephesos eventually contrasts with the Dionysos’ thiasos leaving Alexandria: “with a great commotion, marching out through the outer gate facing the enemy, at which point, growing loudest, it dashed out (ἐκπεσεῖν)” (75.4– 6). Much of the beauty of Plutarch’s Lives consists in the recurrence of themes and images, much as a symphony plays upon various motifs, reflected not only internally within one Life but also within the paired Life, within Lives apparently published together, or even within the entire corpus of the Lives. As one of the latest Lives, the Antonios would be particularly rich in this type of association. Antony’s great vice, his eros for Kleopatra, is also framed in symbols of temporality. Immediately after the entry into Ephesos, he encounters the “crowning evil” (τελευταῖον κακόν), “waking and throwing into a bacchic frenzy (ἀναβακχεύσας) many of the passions that still lay hidden and quiescent in him” (25.1).17 Kleopatra has arrived at Tarsos (26). Her debarkation by water suggests the momentariness and impermanence of life and love—evoking the Herakleitan mode of the fluidity of all things, the impossibility of stepping twice in the same river, of the irreversibility of time’s processes. The phrase was seized upon by Plutarch (De E) to contrast human life with the unchanging life of God, who alone is Being.18 Kleopatra’s arrival via the sea, like that of Aphrodite in myth, 17

18

[en: E. Alexiou, “On ἀπάθεια in Plutarch’s Lives,” in M. von Baumbach, H. Köhler, & A.M. Ritter (eds.), Mousopolos Stephanos: Festschrift für Herwig Görgemanns (Heidelberg: Winter, 1998) 380–389.] 392b, 393ab. The point is underscored by A. Benjamin, “Time and Interpretation in Heraclitus,” in A. Benjamin (ed.), Post Structuralist Classics (London-New York, 1988) 106–131 (118–122).

narrative

215

exudes the eroticism of Euripides’ Hippolytos where water and, above all, the sea are so intimately associated with passion. Plutarch seals this touch with double banquets over water, one on Kleopatra’s barque, the next by Antony. Somehow meetings and banquets by water in the Life suggest abandonment to corruption. Earlier, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavius met “on a small island in a river” to initiate the proscriptions, the bloodbath of friends, former associates, and relatives (19.1). Later, in 32, banqueting on ships docked at Misenum, Octavius, Sextus Pompeius, and Antony divide the world among them—a setting which offers Sextus a temptation for murdering Octavius and Antony.19 Moreover, the banquets of Antony and Kleopatra, which at Tarsos are a symbol of destructive eroticism, later become a symbol of satiety, neglect of duty, and death. Hints of Antony’s struggle against the closing vice of mortality are developed in progression. His father dies in the prime of life (1). His stepfather Lentulus is executed (2). Caesar is assassinated at the height of his power (14). Fulvia, Antony’s first wife and the former wife of Clodius, who was murdered in his prime, dies prematurely at Sikyon while sailing to join Antony (30). Antony’s love of Antyllus, his eldest son by Fulvia, is colored by the boy’s vulnerability to extermination by the political vultures who hover over him (57 and 71). In the latter chapter Antyllus receives the toga virilis with the purple hem, an event celebrated by Antony with “drinking parties and feasting” (συμπόσια καὶ κῶμοι καὶ θαλίαι), “which occupied him for many days” (71.3). Immediately after this, the society of the “Inimitable Livers” (Amimetobioi) is dissolved to become that of “The Inseparable in Death” (Synapothanoumenoi) (71.4). Antyllus will be the first of Antony’s children to be executed. Still, Plutarch does not indulge morbidly in the heavy imagery of banqueting, passion, and death that Vergil so brilliantly exploits. He even treats it lightly at times, playing on the more external aspects of Kleopatra’s eroticism, such as the charm of her conversation, the magic of her presence, the persuasiveness of her discourse, the music of her voice, the deftness of her multilingualism (27). A more ominous tone appears in the formation of the “Inimitable Livers,” the Amimetobioi, but this is capable of humorous treatment in 28. Still, the banquets, like the processions and voyages by water, underscore the transitory and exceptional rather than the normal patterns of life, even if the exceptional, through repetition, has become the normal. The protagonists, first for diversion, then in a seemingly impassioned attempt to stop time, grasp at the pleasures of this life. Nonetheless, Plutarch only mildly condemns the Antony 19

Pompeius’ honor prevents him from allowing the assassination of Antony and Octavius at this time.

216

part 2, chapter 3

of this period. He delights in narrating a practical joke played on Antony by Kleopatra, while the two were fishing, with no sterner criticism for Antony than “behaving foolishly and like a boy” (30). The gradual deterioration of the hero is underscored in chapter 37, “seeming under the influence of drugs or enchanted, so captivated was he by Kleopatra” (37.6). But the narrative, to the author’s credit, often jars against such generalizing judgments on ethos. The hero continues to demonstrate tremendous resiliency and energy, such as in the aftermath of the Parthian campaign, when he captures Artavasdes, during the massive preparations for the Actium campaign, or even in the battle at Alexandria, where he initially takes the offensive (74–75). Still one cannot neglect the tell-tale signs of his approaching doom. Fearing disaster, just before reaching salvation on the Parthian campaign (48), he prepares a freedman to kill him. In 51, devastated by the campaign and waiting for Kleopatra, he turns to alcohol to distract himself. In 53, however, his fear that Kleopatra will commit suicide keeps him from returning to Octavia. After his troops in Libya defect (69), only the presence of his friends prevents him from taking his life. Perhaps not gratuitously inserted is the saying of Timon the Misanthrope, that whoever wanted to could hang himself on his fig tree (70). Alcoholism accompanies the suicidal tendency. The strain of self-annihilation is not evident before the end of the Parthian campaign, though his early daring at Jerusalem and Pelousion and in the war against Pompeius offers a hint of things to come. Alcoholism, however, is a different matter. Demetrios in final captivity looked upon alcohol as a means of escape, “unless he had convinced himself that this was the real life” (52). Alcohol as an escape is not evident in Antony until his arrival at Leuke Kome, while waiting for Kleopatra, in 51, after the disastrous Parthian campaign. His alcoholism is no longer related to revelry or courting popular favor. Very revealing is the comment at the beginning of 71, as he learns of the defection of Judaea, the last of his allies outside Egypt (71.2– 3): οὐ μὴν διετάραξέ τι τούτων αὐτόν, ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ ἄσμενος τὸ ἐλπίζειν ἀποτεθειμένος ἵνα καὶ τὸ φροντίζειν, τὴν μὲν ἔναλον ἐκείνην δίαιταν ἣν Τιμώνειον ὠνόμαζεν ἐξέλιπεν, ἀναληφθεὶς δ’ ὑπὸ τῆς Κλεοπάτρας εἰς τὰ βασίλεια, πρὸς δεῖπνα καὶ πότους καὶ διανομὰς ἔτρεψε τὴν πόλιν … None of these things, though, disturbed him, but as if he gladly laid aside his hopes, so as also be freed of his anxieties, he forsook his habitation by the sea, which he called the Timoneion, after he had been received into the palace by Kleopatra, and turned the city into a series of banquets, drinking parties, and distributions of gifts …

narrative

217

His eating and drinking is hardly just “revelation of true character,” the second reason alleged for Demetrios’s drinking. Rather it appears to be a natural response to events, an inability to face life. While at supper, just before the Battle of Alexandria, Antony, thinking about his coming death, drinks heavily and feasts generously. This time he even speaks of himself as a future mummy (or skeleton), who would be lying dead on the morrow (75). Death, drinking, and feasting could hardly be more closely linked. The final portent in his life is the departure of Dionysos, the god of wine, from the city (75). Antony is abandoned by the god he had assimilated himself to—so the interpretation given by Plutarch. But on a symbolic level it can be read as the departure of the life-giving, joyous Dionysos, in which wine is the gift of cheer and respite from troubles. Ultimately, when Antony raises the final cup to his lips, the wine serves to speed death rather than to affirm life (77.6– 7): καταπαύσας δὲ τὸν θρῆνον αὐτῆς Ἀντώνιος ᾔτησε πιεῖν οἶνον, εἴτε διψῶν, εἴτε συντομώτερον ἐλπίζων ἀπολυθήσεσθαι. πιὼν δὲ παρῄνεσεν αὐτῇ … μάλιστα … Προκληΐῳ πιστεύουσαν … But stopping her lamentations, Antonius asked for a drink of wine, either thirsty, or hoping for a more speedy dissolution from this life. When he had drunk he advised her … to put most confidence in Procleius … In the synkrisis Plutarch surprisingly condemns Antony for a suicide that was “cowardly, pitiful, and ignoble” (6). But in the narration, immediately following his last words in 77, he faces death rather heroically, wanting no tears and advising Kleopatra (77.7): … αὐτὸν δὲ μὴ θρηνεῖν ἐπὶ ταῖς ὑστάταις μεταβολαῖς, ἀλλὰ μακαρίζειν ὧν ἔτυχε καλῶν, ἐπιφανέστατος ἀνθρώπων γενόμενος καὶ πλεῖστον ἰσχύσας, καὶ νῦν οὐκ ἀγεννῶς Ῥωμαῖος ὑπὸ Ῥωμαίου κρατηθείς. … not to lament him for his last reverses but to count him blessed for the good things that fortune brought, having become the most illustrious of men and having exercised supreme power, now not ignobly, a Roman by a Roman conquered. Nor is Antony exactly Kleopatra’s slave. In 51, after the arrival at Leuke Kome, he drinks heavily and springs constantly to his feet in expectation of her arrival.

218

part 2, chapter 3

But she brings clothing and money. At Actium he chooses a naval battle to please Kleopatra (62, 63). When she, turning traitor, hoists sail, he scurries after, thus clearly proving (66.7): … τὴν ψυχὴν τοῦ ἐρῶντος ἐν ἀλλοτρίῳ σώματι ζῆν—ἑλκόμενος ὑπὸ τῆς γυναικὸς ὥσπερ συμπεφυκὼς καὶ συμμεταφερόμενος. … the soul of a lover lives in another’s body, being dragged along by the woman as if grown together and carried along. But though “the nineteen legions of undefeated men-at-arms and twelve thousand horsemen” hold out for seven days, the commanders, including Canidius, who argued so firmly for a land battle, have already deserted. Antony’s suicide is triggered by the false news of Kleopatra’s death. His motive is that “she was the only remaining excuse for being attached to life.” This could be interpreted as part of the “Inseparable in Death” motif, but in fact Plutarch’s narrative implicitly and the synkrisis explicitly (93) leave him little choice but death. Most certainly he would have been executed. The “episodic” plot, therefore, is not a flat portrait of an Antony mastered by lust and liquor, but a complex and baffling depiction of character. At the termination of the Life the reader perhaps surrenders to the mystery of human nature.20 But the reader also surrenders to the brilliance of a biographer who did not suppress inconsistencies with his overt analysis of the hero’s character.21 20

21

Recent critical theories devote much attention to the reader. Reader-Response Criticism uses terms such as “implied author,” “real author,” “narrator”—“narratee,” “implied reader,” “real reader,” and the involvement of the reader in an active reading. One of the main representatives is W. Iser, The Act of Reading. A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore, 1978) (= idem, Der Akt des Lesens. Theorie ästhetischer Wirkung [Munich, 1976, rev., 1984]). See in particular chapter iii, “Phenomenology of Reading,” 107–159, and iv, “Interaction between Text and Reader,” 163–232. A summary of positions can be found in W. Schlotthaus, “Conditioning Factors of Textual Understanding,” in D. Meutsch and R. Viehoff (eds.), Comprehension of Literary Discourse. Results and Problems of Interdisciplinary Approaches, Research in Text Theory (Berlin / New York, 1989) 74–88 (76–78). Critics speak of three reading positions: “reader-elevating” (the reader knows more than the characters), “character elevating” (the character knows more than the reader), and “evenhanded.” Plutarch’s Lives pose a problem, since educated readers should have known the general history and its outcome before reading the Lives, but often the reader would be in the same position as the character. Critics are also concerned with the “reader’s interest.” W.C. Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction

narrative

219

Besides the “episodic” narrating of Antony’s life, the subplots deserve consideration. One is the career of Kleopatra. The other is the rise of the young Octavius, or Octavianus—called “Caesar” by Plutarch—the future Augustus. In the Lives, the rival often emerges at the end, surveying the battlefield, the hero’s downfall, and even his corpse. In the Antonios, though, even the most private sphere is invaded by the newcomer. Alexandria, once a counterpoint to Antony’s distant battles, now witnesses the hero’s final stand near his beloved. Later, Octavius supplants Antony as the most important Roman in Kleopatra’s life, entering the sphere, if not the space of her private life. A Life, begun like history, begins to transform itself into something approaching modern biography. The contrast with Demetrios is striking. Demetrios has 53 chapters, Antonios has 87, more than any other of Plutarch’s Lives. In chapter 49 of the first Life, Demetrios having fought his last battle, is prevented from suicide by his friends, as is Antony later. Only three chapters cover Demetrios’ life from surrender to death, the point reached in Antonios 76. But in Antonios, the four previous chapters are devoted largely to the hero’s private life. The eleven extra chapters are an enormous expansion over the Demetrios. One suspects the influence of the Greek romance, or at least its ingredients. In any case Plutarch seems to be composing a new genre of historical biography. An unprecedented aspect for a Plutarchan Life is the change of protagonists. Antony is already dead in 77. One or two chapters should wind up the skein. Instead, Kleopatra, already a prominent actor in the previous chapters, now suddenly occupies center stage. For almost ten chapters she serves as the focal point.22 Her death in 86, not that of Antony—which is followed by the

22

(Chicago, 1961, rev. 1983) 125–136, speaks of “intellectual” or “cognitive” (eager to have the facts, or the truth about life itself), “qualitative” (a strong desire to see a pattern, or further development completed), and “practical” or “human” (a strong desire for the success or failure of those we love or hate, or the hope of a change in character), corresponding to the search for truth, beauty, and goodness. The first kind relates to Sternberg’s “historiographic and ideological interests” and the second to his “aesthetic interest” (Chatman, Story and Discourse, 41–42). Much of the fascination of Plutarch’s Lives probably results from the interaction of all these factors. Barthes, s/z, 10–12, speaks of the plurality of codes with which the reader approaches a text, but with meanings established not by the reader or others but by the “systematic mark.” Pelling, Life of Antony, 294, notes how unusual Kleopatra’s role is for a Plutarchan Life. Possibly the Life at this point is heavily influenced either by already existing Greek romances or by the literary currents that produced them. The Isis motif, which enters strongly into these final scenes, is frequently found in the Greek novel; cf. G. Anderson, Ancient Fiction. The Novel in the Graeco-Roman World (London, 1984) 75–87, 144–145, 198–201; and T. Hägg, The Novel in Antiquity (Berkeley, 1983) (= idem, Den Antika Romanen [Uppsala,

220

part 2, chapter 3

genealogy leading to Nero, but which also includes a daughter of Kleopatra— terminates the Life. The extent of this narration is unparalleled in Plutarch. If Antonios is the last Life, surely an excellent place to stop, he ends with a flourish. The other startling phenomenon for a Plutarchan Life is the rise of Octavius. The villain does not arrive precisely in the final scene, and in any case, Antony, not Octavius, is supposed to be the “villain.” In chapter 19 Octavius is present to initiate the proscriptions. In 32, at the dinner on Sextus Pompeius’ ship at Misenum, “Caesar” is also present. But only Antony and Pompeius speak, while Octavius remains a shadow. “Caesar” is frightened at the rapidity of Antony’s preparations for Actium and is malicious in opening the hero’s will, deposited with the Vestal Virgins (58). He is still a venal, shadowy figure in 74, anxious to lay his hands on Kleopatra’s treasure. In 75, in answer to Antony’s challenge to a duel, Octavius finally speaks, a snide comment that Antony might find many better ways to die. From 78 on, he replaces Antony as the counterpart to Kleopatra, even if generally operating through intermediaries. Finally in 83, he becomes a principal actor, refuting Kleopatra’s arguments, and pleased with her apparent desire to live. In 85 Octavius opens the tablet serving as her suicide letter, and though irked by her death, admires her noble spirit (εὐγένεια, 86.7). The last words recorded are neither those of Antony nor Kleopatra, but of “Caesar,” who grants her honorable burial and generously saves her statues from destruction.

4

Point of View

From whose viewpoint does Plutarch narrate the Life? Recently the “point of view” in narratological studies has aroused controversy. The question “Who sees or perceives?” (the center of perception) is different from the question

1980] = idem, Eros and Tyche. Der Roman in der antiken Welt [Mainz, 1987]) 26–32, 86–87, 101–103, 182–183. [en: J. Beneker, The Theme of Erotic Love in Plutarch’s Late-Republican Lives (The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill: 2003); E.L. Bowie, “Poetry and Music in the Life of Plutarch’s Statesman,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 115– 123; J. Beneker, The Passionate Statesman: Eros and Politics in Plutarch’s Lives (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2012); M. Tröster, Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus: the Construction of a Roman Aristocrat (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2008); M.A. Beck, “The story of Damon and the ideology of euergetism in the Lives of Cimon and Lucullus,” Hermathena 182 (2007) 53–69; P. Gómez Cardó, “Laconismo como virtud en la Atenas del s. v a.C.: a propósito de la Vida de Cimón de Plutarco,” Myrtia 22 (2007) 69–81.]

narrative

221

“Who is the narrator?”23 The narrator may in fact relate events from the perspective of one or several characters. One basic classification is “internal” or “external point of view.” If the narrator is the hero or heroine, the point of view is ordinarily internal. Such a point of view is extremely rare in the Antonios. If the point of view is that of the omniscient narrator, the point of view is ordinarily external/ internal. But the omniscient narrator, the narrator par excellence in the Lives, can also enter into his characters’ minds. In this case, the viewpoint is internal, even though the viewpoint remains his own. In general, ancient literature prefers the external viewpoint.24 Another categorization delineates three major “perspectives” or “focalizations:” “from without” (corresponding to “external point of view” or “focalization”), “vision with”—accompanying a person and seeing and feeling what he perceives—and “vision from behind”—where the narrator “spies” on his characters and reveals their inner thoughts or motivations. This point of view also called “zero focalization,” “non-focalized narrative,” or “wide angle” is frequent in classical narratives. In external focalization the narrator reveals less than the character knows; in internal focalization, only what the character knows; and in zero focalization, more than any character can know. Often the shift is indicated by a character speaking to himself, something used rarely by Plutarch, or by “free indirect discourse,” used quite frequently in the Lives.25 Some critics prefer to speak of a shift “in” point of view rather than a shift “of” point of view. The point of view remains that of the omniscient narrator, but he enters into the minds of his protagonists. Though the narrator sees through the eyes of the character, the latter does not determine the perspective or focalization of the entire narrative.26 Real internal point of view is very rare in the Anto-

23

24 25

26

Genette, Figures iii, 203–211 (English transl., 185–211); idem, “Nouveau discours du récit,” Collection Poétique (Paris, 1983) 43; Chatman, Story and Discourse, 196–262; W. Kayser, “Qui raconte le roman?,” in R. Barthes (ed.), Poétique du récit, 59–84; Barthes, The Semiotic Challenge, 122–126; P. Pugliatti, “Lo sguardo nel racconto: Teorie e prassi del punto di vista,” Critica Letteraria Contemporanea 3 (Bologna, 1985) 26–32; Booth, 149–165. Genette, Figures iii, 204 (English, 186), Scholes and Kellog, The Nature of Narrative, 175– 176. On the major perspectives, see Genette, Figures iii, 205–211 (with more precision in idem, Nouveau discours, 43–52); Marchese, L’officina del racconto, 157–168. The classifications are due to J. Pouillon, “Temps et roman,” La jeune philosophie 3 (Paris, 1946) and T. Todorov, “Les catégories du récit littéraire,” Communications 8 (1966) 125–151. Genette uses a new terminology for them: “focalization,” instead of “vision,” “aspect,” or “point of view.” The external point of view of the omniscient narrator becomes internal when he restricts his perspective to a protagonist’s thoughts or vision and enters the realm of the character’s

222

part 2, chapter 3

nios. Characters are astoundingly mute in the Lives. Perhaps Plutarch felt that the free invention of speeches would undermine the credibility of a biographical account, which usually has rather shaky sources to begin with. He has no complexes, though, when it comes to interpreting the motives or psychological reactions of his characters. Antony’s own words are very limited. In 4 he defends his generosity. In 23 he disparages the council house (bouleuterion) of the Megarians. In 45, struggling through the middle of Asia he exclaims again and again “O the Ten Thousand!”—“thereby expressing admiration for Xenophon’s army …” (and somehow sharing Plutarch’s faith in parallelism).27 Fleeing Actium in 67, Antony demands the name of Eurykles, the pursuer trying to avenge his father’s murder. Quite surprising, then, is Antony’s lament over his own timidity when he discovers that Kleopatra had preceded him in death, a feigned death as it later proved to be, and after this, the similar complaint about his servant, Eros (76). The statements in 4 and 23 resemble those of famous generals and statesmen, the apophthegmata. His remark in 67 is trivial but reveals the devastation already done to Antony’s psyche. The exclamation in 45 strikes one as the reflection of the narrator rather than a personal statement by Antony. Thus, in 76 his inner reflection on Kleopatra’s supposed suicide attracts attention. But is it mere theater, a set-piece, or a real revelation of character? Despite Plutarch’s lavish praise of Kleopatra as an exciting and enchanting conversationalist, he hesitated to risk trying her out on his readership. She briefly comments on Antony’s angling (29.7): “παράδος ἡμῖν” ἔφη “τὸν κάλαμον αὐτόκρατορ τοῖς Φαρίταις καὶ Κανωβίταις βασιλεῦσιν· ἡ δὲ σὴ θήρα πόλεις εἰσὶ καὶ βασιλεῖαι καὶ ἤπειροι.”

27

inner world (“vision with” in the terms of Pouillon). But the character does not determine the perspective (focalization) of the entire narrative. B.A. Uspensky, A Poetics of Composition. The Structure of the Artistic Text and Typology of a Compositional Form (Berkeley, 1973) (= idem, Poetika Komposizii Struktura Khudozhestvennogo Teksta i Tipologiia Kompozitsionnoi Formy [Moscow, 1970]) 8–16, studies point of view under the aspects of ideology, phraseology, time and space, and psychology, but has been criticized for introducing too much complexity into the different levels. B.X. De Wet, “Contemporary Sources in Plutarch’s Life of Antony,” Hermes 118 (1990) 80–90, notes that some details in the Antonios which reflect the hero’s viewpoint, for example at 2.2 and 10.2, are preserved nowhere else. He believes Plutarch personally read Antony’s Replies to the Philippics, and by referring to him as a source, sought to add authenticity to his portrayal of the hero’s character. Pelling, Life of Antony, 221, believes the frequent allusions to Xenophon (37.2, 41.3, 45.12, 49.5) are Plutarch’s embellishment.

narrative

223

“Hand over to us.” she said, “the fishing pole, Imperator, to the rulers of Pharos and Kanopos. Your sport the hunt of cities is, and kingdoms and continents”. Less delightfully, she darkly threatens with torture Geminius, who had been dispatched from Rome by Antony’s friends (59). Her conduct, therefore, is extraordinary in 83, when she actually defends herself before Octavius, and in 84, when she laments Antony’s death. Her last speech, 17 lines in the Teubner text, must be one of the longest in the Lives. Each phrase reveals some characteristic of Kleopatra: the witty and playful nature which captivated Antony, a nasty and murderous streak, the political wheedling of her feminine demeanor, and finally her role as a loving and lamenting “Isis.” But the ingredients are also rather general or expected. The last speech, with its antitheses, chiasmus, and ring composition, recalls the “set speeches,” which were the bane of school boys, scholars, and historians (84.4– 7): “ὦ φίλ’ Ἀντώνιε” εἶπεν “ἔθαπτον μέν σε πρώην ἔτι χερσὶν ἐλευθέραις, σπένδω δὲ νῦν αἰχμάλωτος οὖσα καὶ φρουρουμένη μήτε κοπετοῖς μήτε θρήνοις αἰκίσασθαι τὸ δοῦλον τοῦτο σῶμα καὶ τηρούμενον ἐπὶ τοὺς κατὰ σοῦ θριάμβους. ἄλλας δὲ μὴ προσδέχου τιμὰς ἢ χοάς· ἀλλ’ αὗταί σοι τελευταῖαι Κλεοπάτρας ἀγομένης. ζῶντας μὲν γὰρ ἡμᾶς οὐθὲν ἀλλήλων διέστησε, κινδυνεύομεν δὲ τῷ θανάτῳ διαμείψασθαι τοὺς τόπους, σὺ μὲν ὁ Ῥωμαῖος ἐνταῦθα κείμενος, ἐγὼ δ’ ἡ δύστηνος ἐν Ἰταλίᾳ, τοσοῦτο τῆς σῆς μεταλαβοῦσα χώρας μόνον. ἀλλ’ εἰ δή τις τῶν ἐκεῖ θεῶν ἀλκὴ καὶ δύναμις— οἱ γὰρ ἐνταῦθα προὔδωκαν ἡμᾶς—, μὴ πρόῃ ζῶσαν τὴν σεαυτοῦ γυναῖκα, μηδ’ ἐν ἐμοὶ περιίδῃς θριαμβευόμενον σεαυτόν, ἀλλ’ ἐνταῦθά με κρύψον μετὰ σεαυτοῦ καὶ σύνθαψον, ὡς ἐμοὶ μυρίων κακῶν ὄντων οὐδὲν οὕτω μέγα καὶ δεινόν ἐστιν, ὡς ὁ βραχὺς οὗτος χρόνος ὃν σοῦ χωρὶς ἔζηκα.” “O dear Antonius.” she said, “I was burying you a little while ago with my hands still free but now pour libations as a captive; guarded lest with beating my breast and with lamentations, I disfigure this poor slave body, preserved for the triumphs over you. Other honors or libations expect not; these are the last you will receive from Kleopatra. For living, nothing parted us, one from the other. But now here we risk in death changing places, you a Roman lying here, and I, miserable one, in Italy, obtaining only this much of your land. But if the gods there have some might and power—for the gods here have betrayed us—abandon not your wife

224

part 2, chapter 3

while alive nor, in my person, overlook that you are being triumphed over, but here, hide me with yourself; and bury me; as of the myriad ills I suffer none so great and dire is, as this brief time which, without you, I have lived”. This lament, which suggests the haunting repetitions of a psalm, is quite plausible.28 Though general and artificial in tone, the circumstances gain our indulgence. It fits Kleopatra’s unique situation and wins sympathy. But some sort

28

Pelling, Life of Antony, 316–318, believes the lament is probably original with Plutarch. He notes that direct discourse, very sparing in Plutarch, is used for important themes or for private affections and tragedy. Refrains are characteristic of threnody; Cf. M. Alexiou, The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition (Cambridge, 1974) 134. Somewhat uncharacteristically, according to Pelling, Kleopatra does not dwell on the greatness of Antony, nor curse Octavius. Pelling also sees the “bridal” theme in this lament; cf. R.A.S. Seaford, “The Tragic Wedding,” jhs 107 (1987) 106–130; Alexiou, The Ritual Lament, 120–122. However, though Sophokles’ Antigone 1237–1241 is close: … παρθένῳ προσπτύσσεται,/ καὶ φυσιῶν ὀξεῖαν ἐκβάλλει ῥοὴν /λευκῇ παρειᾷ φοινίου / ταλάγματος. κεῖται δὲ νεκρὸς περὶ νεκρῷ, τὰ νυμφικὰ /τέλη λαχὼν δείλαιος εἰν Ἅιδου δόμοις. (Seaford, “The Tragic Wedding,” 120), none of the examples given by Seaford mentions union, vs. separation in burial, the theme of the Synapothanoumenoi. However R. Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana, 1942) 247–250, cites a number of examples where togetherness in death is the principal theme. Apt are (togetherness in the tomb): Aeschylos, Choephoroi 894– 895; Sophokles, Antigone 1240–1241, Elektra 1165–1170; Euripides, Alkestis 363–368; Propertius 4.7.93–94; Ovidius, Metamorphoses 8.709–710; eglc (Kaibel) 253.5–6; 386.1–2; ig 12.7.113 (3rd cent bc); ce 68.5 (Roman Republic). None is an exact parallel to Kleopatra’s lament, but Metamorphoses 11.698–699 (Alcyone), not mentioned by Lattimore, comes very close: … neque enim de uitae tempore quicquam non simul egissem, nec mors discreta fuisset. J.R. Morgan, “A Sense of the Ending: The Conclusion of Heliodoros’ Aithiopika,” tapa 119 (1989) 299–320, studies how the Greek romance both frustrates and fulfills the reader’s expectation, keeping the happy ending in doubt as long as possible (318). Then, good overcomes evil, and the providence of the gods is vindicated (320). Antonios in this sense becomes something of a romance in reverse, keeping the tragic ending in doubt as long as possible. But like the novel, the Antonios closes with the “consummation,” but in a non-literal sense, of the novel’s principal value, true love (Cf. Morgan, 320). On endings, see also F. Kermode, The Sense of an Ending. Studies in the Theory of Fiction (Oxford, 1967) and M. Torgovnick, Closure in the Novel (Princeton, 1981). One might note the epic quality to the lament: like Patroklos in the Iliad (23.81–92), who desires common burial with Achilleus, Kleopatra wishes to be buried with the hero, Antony. Scuderi, Antonio, 117, would attribute the essentials of the lament to Olympos, Kleopatra’s physician and a major source for Kleopatra’s last days. For the Alexandria of the time and the tombs of Antony and others, see M.-L. Bernhard, “Topographie

narrative

225

of “inseparable in death” genre, perhaps originating in New Comedy and perpetuating itself in the romances, probably influenced the speech.29 Her charge of abandonment by the gods of her country, however, is unconvincing. A person might complain that a divinity has failed him, a theme common in funeral epigrams. Undoubtedly the abandonment of Antony by the Egyptian gods contributed to the political propaganda in the aftermath of the war. The statement, however, contradicts Kleopatra’s own continuing allegiance to Isis in death, and probably her expectation after passing from this world. The viewpoint, then, remains suspiciously aloof, objective, and propagandistic. Minor characters punctuate the narrative with short comments, ostensibly offering a different viewpoint from Antony, but in reality usually reflecting that of the omniscient narrator. A citizen of Asia, named Hybreas, rebukes Antony for his exactions there (24). The cook and physician at Alexandria in 28 comment unfavorably, but not harshly, on Antony’s extravagance. An exception is Philotas, a friend of Plutarch’s grandfather, who rather gratuitously pronounces a sophism to silence a quack doctor. Because the comment adds little to the narrative, one suspects Plutarch could not overlook a story belonging to his family tradition. Sextus Pompeius complains that the only inheritance left him is his flagship, and later gives reasons for not murdering his guests (32). A divination from an Egyptian soothsayer appears in 33. In 35 Octavia comments on the difficult choice between living with her brother or with her husband. A Mardian guide gives advice on escaping the Parthians (46). In 70 Timon the Misanthrope, who also speaks through an epitaph, is allowed to utter two “sayings” (chreiai), a characteristically Cynic genre. Kleopatra’s handmaid is allowed a line, as is Procleius, the agent of Octavius (79). In 80 a Sophist whom Plutarch disliked cites a trimeter from an unknown poet (80). Areios, the Alexandrian philosopher, neatly twists Iliad 2.204 into a recommendation for exterminating Caesarion (81). Finally, in 85 “someone” angrily rebukes the handmaid, Charmion, for allowing Kleopatra’s death. The latter, however, while expiring, has the last word (85.8):

29

d’ Alexandrie: Le Tombeau d’ Alexandre et le Mausolée d’Auguste,” ra 47 (1956) 129–156, esp. 143; E.G. Huzar, “Alexandria ad Aegyptum in the Julio-Claudian Age,” anrw ii.10.1 (1988) 619–668, esp., 624–631; D. Fishwick, “The Temple of Caesar at Alexandria,” ajah 9 (1984) 131–134. [en: S. Xenophontos, “Comedy in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives,” grbs 52 (2012) 603–631.]

226

part 2, chapter 3

“κάλλιστα μὲν οὖν” ἔφη “καὶ πρέποντα τῇ τοσούτων ἀπογόνῳ βασιλέων.” “Most fine indeed,” she said, “and worthy of a descendant of so many kings”. The statement contrasts with the alleged opinion of the omniscient narrator but not with his generally sympathetic treatment. The internal viewpoint frequently appears in indirect discourse or is skillfully inserted into the narration itself. In 16, for example, Antony is motivated by a dream of being struck by lightning and by the news that Octavius is plotting against him. An Egyptian divination about the inferiority of his daimon to that of the young “Caesar,” is followed by losses in games of chance, which motivate Antony’s departure from Italy (33). The hero is “annoyed, though he did not show it” (33.5). In 75, before the Battle of Alexandria, Antony conveys to his slaves his uncertainty about the morrow, and his fear of being a corpse the next day. The description of the Bacchic thiasos which exits from the city, however, belongs to the rumor-gathering of the omniscient narrator, “it was said.” Some passages, though, do make the reader peep through Antony’s spectacles. In 7 he is being pursued by Pompeius’ fleet. Though the ostensible viewpoint is that of the omniscient narrator, we seem to see with the hero’s eyes (7.4– 6): … καὶ γενόμενος καταφανὴς τοῖς πολεμίοις καὶ διωκόμενος, … νότου κῦμα μέγα, … ἐκφερόμενος δὲ ταῖς ναυσὶ πρὸς κρημνοὺς καὶ φάραγγας ἀγχιβαθεῖς, οὐδεμίαν ἐλπίδα σωτηρίας εἶχεν. ἄφνω δὲ τοῦ κόλπου πολὺν ἐκπνεύσαντος λίβα, … καὶ πλέων σοβαρῶς ὁρᾷ ναυαγίων περίπλεων τὸν αἰγιαλόν. … discovered by the enemy and pursued, … a heavy swell, … carried with his ships toward a precipitous and craggy shore, had no hope of escape. Suddenly a strong southwest wind from the bay, (…) sailed gallantly along and saw the shore covered with wrecks … 7.4–6

Again, the whole Parthian campaign is almost seen through Antony’s eyes. The source is probably Q. Dellius, a staff officer, who later defected to Octavius and could at times be critical of Antony’s conduct. In most of the narrative the distancing is rather slight. Presumably Antony and the officer saw and feared relatively the same things. Nonetheless, Plutarch begins with a general criticism of Antony’s strategy (38). Some passages are revealing. For example, the destruction of the baggage train “distressed all the followers of Antonius”

narrative

227

(τοῦτο πάντας μὲν ὡς εἰκὸς ἠνίασε τοὺς περὶ Ἀντώνιον, 39.1). One detects the viewpoint of the source. Antony is often presented as doing or saying what a staff officer might have written in his memoirs. In 39 “all” are despondent when the cavalry pursuit of the Parthians has little success. Nonetheless, excepting scenes explicitly depicting Antony from the outside, the events of the war coincide with his viewpoint. The Battle of Actium is less personal and more distanced than the Parthian campaign. Plutarch keeps shifting the viewpoint. He moves from Octavius, to Canidius, to Kleopatra, to a slave of Octavius, to a soldier of Antony. Only in the middle of 66 is the viewpoint primarily Antony’s. However, this internal viewpoint is jarred by the assertion that the enemy beheld Kleopatra’s ships taking advantage of the wind and making for the Peloponnesos, and by Plutarch’s reflection on Antony’s soul living, like that of all lovers, in another’s body (66.7). Events related from Antony’s perspective occupy less than a brief chapter, or 45 lines in the Teubner edition. In conclusion, Plutarch rarely lets a character speak his mind. This is quite striking, since the propaganda war offered abundant material for Antony’s defense of himself. Rather, the hero, like a cadaver in a medical theater, is dissected from outside, or, like a defendant in a court which permits no selfdefense, is left timidly watching the proceedings. Though seemingly a defect, the relative muteness of Plutarch’s protagonists contributes to the tone of apparent objectivity which pervading his biographical reporting endows it with an aura of authority. The Antonios, then, is an interesting subject for the critical microscope of the narratologists. Time is represented in a very straightforward way, virtually without prolepsis and analepsis, quite in contrast with some dialogues in Plutarch’s Moralia. But in the background is a more complicated time scheme of two segments of the historical past, the larger cycles of reincarnation, and the atemporal order of the noetic world, the last of which includes the Forms, the Divine, and the blessed existence of the soul. The ephemerality of “phenomenal” time is particularly conveyed through the constant movement, and even flight, of the protagonists and the futile attempt to give permanence to the transitory pleasures of wine, love, and song. In contrast to the main narrative, an episodic plot has its own dynamic, illuminating character through the private details, foibles, and interrelationships of personal life. Thus, interior scenes, at times almost oppressively rich in sensual detail and redolent of passion, alternate with the exterior and more coldly factual scenes of battle, risk, and hardship. Plutarch’s characters, like good children, are seen rather than heard. The viewpoint of the omniscient narrator universally prevails, except for a few brief private outbursts. Even for the Parthian campaign a slight distance sep-

228

part 2, chapter 3

arates the reader from the hero. When the omniscient narrator is absent, the perspective is not that of Antony himself but of a fellow officer on the campaign. In spite of enormous liberties with details and even the themes of his sources, the Life’s authoritative voice, enhanced by brevity of exposition and comment, creates a convincing tone of imperturbable objectivity.

chapter 4

Some Aspects of Style 1

The Flight of Themistokles

Though the treatment here will necessarily be very selective and impressionistic, an examination of a few passages from the Antonios can help illuminate Plutarch’s style, especially its “baroque” aspect.1 This is a quality obviously very difficult to define, but it certainly includes aspects of grand design and magnificent, rich, backdrops, elevation of theme, and theatrical or epic depictions of heroized figures of more than normal emotions in idealized attitudes. Moreover, the scenes are usually characterized by agitated or etherial movement, and a richness of motifs and supplementary, graceful figures. Some scholars prefer terms like “High Classical” for the Renaissance, and the term “Mannerism” for the more imaginative and fantastic type of art which followed, terms perhaps definable only in the examination of an individual artist’s work. Hellenistic baroque has been characterized as theatrical, as emphasizing emotional intensity and dramatic crisis, exploiting striking contrasts and open forms which deny boundaries and disrupt or conceal artistic balance. Moreover, scale, movement or tumult, as well as cosmic grandeur also come into play, as in the Great Altar at Pergamon. In the Neronian Age of Plutarch’s youth the baroque ideal, especially in architecture and painting, was realized in a brilliantly new manner.2 Clearly, Plutarch’s Lives, which were so often 1 Professor Winfried Bühler, who looked over a draft of this section, would prefer another term. Some aspects of Neronian art and literature, for instance in Petronius, are strikingly similar to those of European “Mannerism,” but Plutarch’s writing belongs to a more restrained and classical form of art approximating the European Baroque. 2 For a definition of the Baroque, see S.J. Freedberg, Painting in Italy 1500–1600. Pelican History of Art (New York, 1971, rev., 1979) 15, and for Mannerism, his comments in idem, Circa 1600. A Revolution of Style in Italian Painting (Cambridge, Mass., 1983) esp. 60; J. Shearman, Mannerism. Style and Civilization (Harmondsworth, 1967), esp. 15–48, 49–81. J.J. Pollitt, Art in the Hellenistic Age (Cambridge, 1986) 79–127, esp. 104–105, 111. For Vergil, see F.E. Brenk, “Most Beautiful Horror: Baroque Touches in Vergil’s Underworld,” cw 73 (1979) 1–8. For characteristics of the Neronian period, see Sullivan, Literature and Politics, 74–114. “Manneristic” touches are particularly strong in Petronius’s Cena Trimalchionis. Describing “Baroque” painting in the Neronian period, H. Eschebach, Pompeji. Erlebte antike Welt (Leipzig, 1978) 27–29, highlights the advent of pathos and brutality, sensuous nudity, and limitless backgrounds.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/9789004348776_019

230

part 2, chapter 4

the inspiration for Renaissance and Post-Renaissance painting, harmonized well with the spirit of this epoch.3 As a stylist, Plutarch has been described as a “free Atticist.” belonging to a development of the Augustan and Early Imperial Period. Not as much has been written on his style, though, as one might expect. He has been praised for a naturalness and sensitivity in adapting style to content and despising affectation, such as that characteristic of Timaios of Tauromenion, or too severe imitation of the earlier Attic writers.4 In opposition to Attic writers and the later “Atticists.” Plutarch is accused of being unable to resist the temptation to “amplification” and “reflection employing a rich vocabulary.” He is characterized as having a tendency toward “antithetical comparison” or synkrisis, employing a “spun-out” periodicity with many subordinate and participial insertions and long parentheses, but with a natural, rather than forced, balance. The velocity of his production, moreover, is made the culprit for leading scholars into imaginary textual problems.5 3 See R. Guerini, “Plutarco e la biografia. Personaggi, episodi, moduli compositivi in alcuni cicli pittorici romani 1540–1550,” in S. Settis (ed.), Dal testo all’immagine. La “pittura di storia” nel Rinascimento, Memoria dell’antico nell’arte italiana 2. I generi e i temi ritrovati. Biblioteca di Storia dell’Arte (Turin, 1985) 83–93. According to Guerini, the moral element in Plutarch’s Lives (πράξεις-ἀρεταί: facta-mores) corresponded perfectly to the desires of those commissioning the works (84–85). Guerini concludes that “the choice of personages and episodes from classical history found in Plutarch, as a narrative pattern, was a counterpart to the iconographic projects envisaged; thus, Plutarch performed a function of the first order in the artistic culture of the age of Paul iii” (92–93). [en: M. Linder, “Plutarch’s use and Mention of Famous Artists in the Parallel Lives,” Ancient society 45 (2015) 53–81.] 4 So E. Norden, Die antike Kunstprosa vom vi. Jahrhundert v. Chr. bis in die Zeit der Renaissance (2nd ed., Berlin, 1915) 392–394. 5 K. Ziegler, Plutarchos, 293–301, who lamented the lack of a comprehensive study of Plutarch’s style (294). Ziegler, moreover, stresses his avoidance of hiatus, and use of rhythms to end a colon (Cf. F.H. Sandbach, “Rhythm and Authenticity in Plutarch’s Moralia,” cq 33 [1939] 194–203). For general principles and some misapprehensions about Plutarch’s style see now S. Yaginuma, “Plutarch’s Language and Style,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4726–4742. He notes in particular that a preference for sentences with hypotaxis (subordinate clauses following the main verb—Blass’s “absteigende” period—or preceding and following) is especially “Plutarchean” (4731–4734). [en: See also L. Torraca, “Lingua e stile nei Moralia di Plutarco,” anrw ii.34.4 (1998) 3487–3510.] On the Atticizing writers see W. Schmid, Der Atticismus in seinen Hauptvertretern. Von Dionysius von Halikarnass bis auf den zweiten Philostratus (Stuttgart, 1887–1897), and the very illuminating study of F. Lasserre, “Prose grecque classicisante,” in H. Flashar (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome, aux Iers siècles avant et après J.-C., Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 25 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1979) 135–163. Lasserre notes the close relationship between this literature and rhetoric, the ambiguity caused by the detestation of Asianism, while

some aspects of style

231

His style has also been characterized as typical of the classicizing revolution of the Augustan and post-Augustan age, a positive and constructive archaism, which sought to enrich the classical models rather than to imitate them slavishly, a style meticulous in periodic structure, studied word-patterns, avoidance of hiatus, and carefully chosen vocabulary, while at the same time noteworthy for varied syntax and sophisticated word-order. Plutarch is considered similar in some respects to Dionysios of Halikarnassos. But he ostensibly disliked Dionysios’ style, as has been noted, rewrote him when using him as a source, and took more liberties in drawing from wider sources to exploit the new enrichment of classical style.6 Other scholars describe a diction noteworthy for poetic words, new composites, neologisms, and verbs with a non-classical meaning. They see a lack of pretention to elegant style (καλλιγραφία) citing De tranquilitate 464e. This style, in their view, is characterized by an overcharged, redundant, and “ponderous” phraseology which is seldom content to say in one word what two or three, even synonyms, could say just as well, and for neologisms which roused the ire of the ancients.7 Other observations are the rarity of chiasmus, sentences that ramble but are easy to follow, relatively frequent asyndeton, unremarkable similes, metaphors that are rare but effective at critical points in the narrative, extreme interest in variety, a remarkable power of visualizing a scene, and a psychological incapability of hewing

simultaneously there is an inner creative dynamic within rhetoric toward enrichment of language and toward excess. He observes, moreover, that there is a contrast between Attic style and contemporary language—since both grammar and vocabulary reflect a combination of purism, poeticism, and ordinary speech (137, 143–145). D.A. Russell, “Classicizing Rhetoric and Criticism: Pseudo-Dionysian Exetasis and Mistakes in Declamation,” in Flashar (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome, 113–130, sees rhetorical effectiveness and moral acceptability as marks of the 2nd and 3rd centuries ad. He remarks that Longinos (35.4), who turns Kallimachos on his ear, would rather have “the Rhine and the Danube than any little spring” [the symbol of Kallimachos’ poetry], “however holy” (115). 6 Russell, Plutarch, 18–41, esp. 21–22. 7 R. Flacelière & J. Irigoin, “Histoire du texte des Œeuvres Morales de Plutarque,” in R. Flacelière, J. Irigoin, J. Sirinelli, & A. Philippon (eds.), Plutarque. Œeuvres Morales i.1 (Paris, 1987) ccx– ccxi citing Phrynichos (W.G. Rutherford, The New Phrynichus. Revised Text of the Ecloga of the Grammarian Phrynichus [London, 1881]). But Rutherford notes that Phrynichos, who cites δυσωπία (clxvi) and σύγκρισις (ccxlv) as having non-classical meaning in Plutarch, is mistaken about classical δυσωπία (which was a presentiment of evil or danger). He observes that Aristotle, Theophrastos, and Philemon used σύγκρισις in Plutarch’s meaning (278, 344). Moreover, in De tranquilitate 464f—even if he is only posing—Plutarch excuses the lack of καλλιγραφία as due to haste, since he had to deliver the essay to a friend who was sailing shortly for Rome.

232

part 2, chapter 4

to the brevity he demanded of others—thus making his finest narratives those indulgent to his expansive style.8 However, one probably should be careful not to credit Plutarch with too much originality in matters of diction and syntax, since he attempted to write a literary κοινή in harmony with contemporary standards.9 Lately scholars are attempting to rescue Plutarch from the over-rigid critics of the past, who eliminated from our texts the usage and diction of the literary koine—including some poetic archaisms popular in contemporary prose—and substituted the classical style of an earlier period.10

8

9 10

J.R. Hamilton, Plutarch. Alexander. A Commentary (Oxford, 1969) lxvi–lxix, offers as an example of ample narrative the murder of Kleitos in Alexandros 50–52. In the same life, he analyzes 40.1–2: an exceptional 14-line sentence. This begins with a temporal clause, followed by 4 result clauses (the last with a dependent participle). Then comes the main verb, a participle with dependent infinitive and 2 causal clauses, each followed by a noun clause (both with dependent participles), the second of which is subdivided by μὲν … δέ. In spite of the complexity, the meaning is perfectly clear! P.A. Stadter, A Commentary on Plutarch’s Pericles (Chapel Hill, 1989) lvi, notes the following schema in Perikles 12.1– 2: 9 finite verbs, 15 participles, and 5 infinitives. These unfold in a fairly predictable way: relative clause, main clause, a participle introducing a series of clauses—each clause more complicated than the preceding—while the entire sentence is characterized by frequent doubling of verbs and objects, often with little effect on the sense. We also find mild hyperbaton in a b a b order, with a triplet of nouns (λίθους … ἀγάλματα … ναούς), and ending with a 6 syllable word (χιλιοταλάντους) in a favorite clausula (– ⏑ ⏑ ⏑ – –). He also remarks that insistent about uariatio, Plutarch never repeats a word in the same context (lv). [T.E. Duff, “The Prologue to the Lifes of Perikles and Fabius (Per. 1–2),” in Pérez Jimémez & Casadesús (eds.), Misticismo y religiones mistéricas en la obra de Plutarco, 351– 363; Mosconi, G., “Pericle, la guerra, la democrazia e il buon uso del corpo del cittadino,” MediterrAnt 17 (2014) 51–86; S. Xenophontos, “Περὶ ἀγαθοῦ στρατηγοῦ: Plutarch’s Fabius Maximus and the Ethics of Generalship,” Hermes v. 140(2) (2012) 160–183. O. Imperio, “Il ritratto di Pericle nella commedia attica antica: presenze e assenze dei comici nella biografia periclea di Plutarco,” c&c 8 (2013) 145–174.] As Flacelière and Irigoin seem to suggest stressing Plutarch’s desire to write the koine (ccxiv). See the important critique of G. Giangrande, “Problemi di critica testuale nei Moralia. i,” and idem, “Problemi di critica testuale nei Moralia. ii,” in I. Gallo, A. Garzya, G. Giangrande, M. Manfredini (eds.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia di Plutarco (1988) 55–78, 79–102, esp. 60–61, 78–80. For the textual tradition, see the summary in Stadter, Pericles, lvii–lviii, with the bibliography given there. He includes M. Manfredini, “La tradizione manoscritta delle Vite,” in Andrei & Scuderi, Demetrio, 16–26, but see also M. Manfredini, “Codici minori delle Vite,” in A. Pérez Jiménez (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco. Obra y tradición. Actas del i Simposio Español sobre Plutarco. Fuengirola 1988. Sociedad Española de

some aspects of style

233

Before turning to Antonios, though, it will help to study a passage from Themistokles, where Plutarch obviously used Thoukydides 1.136–137 as his model.11 Thoukydides is noted for the use of poetical language, repetition of words, doubling—especially of opposites—puns, a tendency toward abstraction and the use of the neuter substantive, the apparent coining of new words with new suffixes—in short a seemingly original language which antiquity considered individualistic.12 Other observations underline a highly antithetical style chronologically between the linear (short independent sentences) and periodic styles, a preference for the universal over the particular, clarity, balance and contrast, and a preference for neuter adjectives, infinitives, and participles. In this view the style by later standards was both archaic and poetic, making Thoukydides a kind of counterpart to Aischylos, but in fact Thoukydides was employing a medium fairly uniform about twenty-five years before his acme.13 Another specialist stresses a strong feeling for unity and the removal of all extraneous material, besides an apparent objectivity which allows the facts to speak for themselves.14

11

12

13 14

Plutarquistas (Málaga, 1990) 9–20. Excellent studies are, though the application is primarily to the Moralia, Flacelière & Irigoin, “Histoire du texte des Œeuvres Morales de Plutarque,” ccxxvii–cccxxiv; A. Garzya, “La tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia: Linee generali,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta, 9–38; idem, “Planude e il testo dei Moralia,” ibidem, 39–54; M. Manfredini, “Codici plutarchei contenenti Vitae e Moralia,” ibidem, 103– 122; and idem, “Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia 70–77,” ibidem, 123–138. For the Lamprias catalogue, which has some bearing on authenticity and other problems, see J. Irigoin, “Le Catalogue de Lamprias: Tradition manuscrite et éditions imprimées,” reg 99 (1986) 318–331, and his treatment of it in Flacelière (ed.), Œeuvres Morales i. 1, cciii– ccxviii. Use of this passage was suggested by a lecture of Professor Winfried Bühler, “La fuga di Temistocle in Persia secondo Tucidide e secondo Plutarco,” University of Rome, La Sapienza, February, 1988. So P. Huart, Le vocabulaire de l’ analyse psychologiquc dans l’oeuvre de Thucydide (Paris, 1968) 1–32, esp., 21–31. He observes (23, note 2) that Dionysios of Halikarnassos wrote a letter entitled “Concerning the Characteristics of the Language of Thucydides” (H. Usener & L. Radermacher, Dionysii Halicarnassei Opuscula [Leipzig, 1899] 375). So J.H. Finley, jr., Thucydides (Cambridge, Mass., 1942) 250–288, esp. 253–255, 264–266, 271, 275–276, 286. So J. de Romilly, Histoire et raison chez Thucydide (Collection d’Études Anciennes; Paris, 1956) 40–52, 84. See also her “Plutarch and Thucydides or the Free Use of Quotations,” Phoenix 42 (1988) 22–34, and her “Rencontres avec Plutarque,” in Marcovich et al. (ed.), Plutarch, 219–229. In the first article she notes how Plutarch often omits evaluations fundamental and brilliant in Thoukydides and how he injects different meaning into the same words. She attributes these differences not just to biographical genre but to an

234

part 2, chapter 4

The passage in the classical author runs as follows: ὁ δὲ Θεμιστοκλῆς προαισθόμενος φεύγει ἐκ Πελοποννήσου ἐς Κέρκυραν, ὢν αὐτῶν εὐεργέτης. δεδιέναι δὲ φασκόντων Κερκυραίων ἔχειν αὐτὸν ὥστε Λακεδαιμονίοις καὶ Ἀθηναίοις ἀπεχθέσθαι, διακομίζεται ὑπ’ αὐτῶν ἐς τὴν ἤπειρον τὴν καταντικρύ. καὶ διωκόμενος ὑπὸ τῶν προστεταγμένων κατὰ πύστιν ᾗ χωροίη, ἀναγκάζεται κατά τι ἄπορον παρὰ Ἄδμητον τὸν Μολοσσῶν βασιλέα ὄντα αὐτῷ οὐ φίλον καταλῦσαι. καὶ ὁ μὲν οὐκ ἔτυχεν ἐπιδημῶν, ὁ δὲ τῆς γυναικὸς ἱκέτης γενόμενος διδάσκεται ὑπ’ αὐτῆς τὸν παῖδα σφῶν λαβὼν καθέζεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν ἑστίαν. καὶ ἐλθόντος οὐ πολὺ ὕστερον τοῦ Ἀδμήτου δηλοῖ τε ὅς ἐστι καὶ οὐκ ἀξιοῖ, εἴ τι ἄρα αὐτὸς ἀντεῖπεν αὐτῷ Ἀθηναίων δεομένῳ, φεύγοντα τιμωρεῖσθαι· καὶ γὰρ ἂν ὑπ’ ἐκείνου πολλῷ ἀσθενεστέρου ἐν τῷ παρόντι κακῶς πάσχειν, γενναῖον δὲ εἶναι τοὺς ὁμοίους ἀπὸ τοῦ ἴσου τιμωρεῖσθαι. καὶ ἅμα αὐτὸς μὲν ἐκείνῳ χρείας τινὸς καὶ οὐκ ἐς τὸ σῶμα σῴζεσθαι ἐναντιωθῆναι, ἐκεῖνον δ’ ἄν, εἰ ἐκδοίη αὐτόν (εἰπὼν ὑφ’ ὧν καὶ ἐφ’ ᾧ διώκεται), σωτηρίας ἂν τῆς ψυχῆς ἀποστερῆσαι. ὁ δὲ ἀκούσας ἀνίστησί τε αὐτὸν μετὰ τοῦ ἑαυτοῦ υἱέος, ὥσπερ καὶ ἔχων αὐτὸν ἐκαθέζετο, καὶ μέγιστον ἦν ἱκέτευμα τοῦτο, καὶ ὕστερον οὐ πολλῷ τοῖς τε Λακεδαιμονίοις καὶ Ἀθηναίοις ἐλθοῦσι καὶ πολλὰ εἰποῦσιν οὐκ ἐκδίδωσιν, ἀλλ’ ἀποστέλλει βουλόμενον ὡς βασιλέα πορευθῆναι ἐπὶ τὴν ἑτέραν θάλασσαν πεζῇ ἐς Πύδναν τὴν Ἀλεξάνδρου. ἐν ᾗ ὁλκάδος τυχὼν ἀναγομένης ἐπ’ Ἰωνίας καὶ ἐπιβὰς καταφέρεται χειμῶνι ἐς τὸ Ἀθηναίων στρατόπεδον, ὃ ἐπολιόρκει Νάξον. καί (ἦν γὰρ ἀγνὼς τοῖς ἐν τῇ νηί) δείσας φράζει τῷ ναυκλήρῳ ὅστις ἐστὶ καὶ δι’ ἃ φεύγει, καὶ εἰ μὴ σώσει αὐτόν, ἔφη ἐρεῖν ὅτι χρήμασι πεισθεὶς αὐτὸν ἄγει· τὴν δὲ ἀσφάλειαν εἶναι μηδένα ἐκβῆναι ἐκ τῆς νεὼς μέχρι πλοῦς γένηται· πειθομένῳ δ’ αὐτῷ χάριν ἀπομνήσεσθαι ἀξίαν. ὁ δὲ ναύκληρος ποιεῖ τε ταῦτα καὶ ἀποσαλεύσας ἡμέραν καὶ νύκτα ὑπὲρ τοῦ στρατοπέδου ὕστερον ἀφικνεῖται ἐς Ἔφεσον. Themistokles, forewarned, flees from the Peloponnesos to Kerkyra, being their benefactor. Since the Kerkyrians, though, claim they are afraid to receive him, lest they incur the enmity of the Lakedaimonians and Athenians, he is conveyed across by them to the mainland opposite. Being pursued by those commissioned to track him down, he is compelled, being in an inextricable position, to take refuge with Admetos, the Molossian king, who was not friendly. He happened to be away at the time, but Themistokles, as a suppliant, is instructed by his wife to take their child and sit down ideological change between 5th cent. Athens and the Imperial period (24–28, 33). In the second article, she underscores Plutarch’s moral interest in the hero, which goes beyond mere psychology, and is concerned with interpersonal relationships—the result being subtle, but profound and persuasive, modifications in the sources (221–223).

some aspects of style

235

at the hearth. And when Admetos has returned a little later, he reveals who he is and that Admetos should not consider it right, even if once he opposed his request to the Athenians, to take revenge on him a fugitive. For in his present condition he might come to harm at the hands of a much weaker person, but the decent thing was to take vengeance among equals on fair terms. Besides, he had opposed Admetos in the matter of a petition and not over a question of life or death; but if he should surrender him to his pursuers (explaining who they were and the charge), it was his life’s salvation of which he would deprive him. 136

Hearing this, Admetos raises him up, together with his own son (even as he still sat holding him, and this was the most powerful form of supplication there). Not long after, he does not surrender him to the Lakedaimonians and Athenians who arrived, but gives him an escort—since he wanted to go to the King—to the other sea, overland, to Pydna the capital of Alexander. Here, chancing on a merchant vessel setting sail for Ionia, and going aboard, he is carried off in a storm to the base of the Athenians besieging Naxos. Being afraid (for his identity was unknown to those in the vessel) he tells the captain who he is and why he is fleeing, and says that if he will not save him, he will accuse him of bribery in taking him aboard, and that their only hope of salvation is for no one to leave the ship before sailing, and if persuaded, he will remember the favor handsomely. The captain does as bidden and, after riding out the gale a day and a night just outside the Athenian base, on the next day arrives at Ephesos.15 137

15

Text of H.S. Jones, rev. J.E. Powell, Thucydidis Historiae i (Oxford, 1942). The reader is asked to forgive the literalness of the translations, the main purpose of which is not to infuriate Greek scholars and English readers, even Miltonians, but to highlight the peculiarities, especially in word order, tense, and phraseology. In cases where the meaning would be absolutely unintelligible or slight changes would make little difference, the Greek word order and phraseology has been changed. On the arbitration and flight see R. Flacelière, “Sur quelques points obscurs de la vie de Thémistocle,” rea 55 (1953) 4–28; R. Flacelière, É. Chambry, & M. Juneaux (eds.), Plutarque. Vies ii (Paris, 1961) 130; L. Piccirilli, “Temistocle εὐεργέτης dei Corciresi,” asnp 3 (1973) 317–355; idem, Gli arbitrati interstatali greci i. Dalle origini al 338 a.C. (Pisa, 1973) 61–66; F.J. Frost, Plutarch’s Themistocles. A Historical Commentary (Princeton, 1980) 200–208; and C. Carena, M. Manfredini & L. Piccirilli (eds.), Le vite di Temistocle e di Camillo. Plutarco. Vite Parallele, Scrittori Greci e Latini (Verona, 1983) 270–274. [en: J. Marr, Life of Themistocles (Warminster: Aris and Phillips,

236

part 2, chapter 4

Plutarch’s version is this: Προαισθόμενος δ’ ἐκεῖνος εἰς Κέρκυραν διεπέρασεν, οὔσης αὐτῷ πρὸς τὴν πόλιν εὐεργεσίας. γενόμενος γὰρ αὐτῶν κριτὴς πρὸς Κορινθίους ἐχόντων διαφοράν, ἔλυσε τὴν ἔχθραν εἴκοσι τάλαντα κρίνας τοὺς Κορινθίους καταβαλεῖν καὶ Λευκάδα κοινῇ νέμειν ἀμφοτέρων ἄποικον. ἐκεῖθεν δ’ εἰς Ἤπειρον ἔφυγε, καὶ διωκόμενος ὑπὸ τῶν Ἀθηναίων καὶ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων, ἔρριψεν ἑαυτὸν εἰς ἐλπίδας χαλεπὰς καὶ ἀπόρους, καταφυγὼν πρὸς Ἄδμητον, ὃς βασιλεὺς μὲν ἦν Μολοσσῶν, δεηθεὶς δέ τι τῶν Ἀθηναίων καὶ προπηλακισθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ Θεμιστοκλέους, ὅτ’ ἤκμαζεν ἐν τῇ πολιτείᾳ, δι’ ὀργῆς εἶχεν αὐτὸν αἰεί, καὶ δῆλος ἦν εἰ λάβοι τιμωρησόμενος. ἐν δὲ τῇ τότε τύχῃ μᾶλλον ὁ Θεμιστοκλῆς φοβηθεὶς συγγενῆ καὶ πρόσφατον φθόνον ὀργῆς παλαιᾶς καὶ βασιλικῆς, ταύτῃ φέρων ὑπέθηκεν ἑαυτόν, ἱκέτης τοῦ Ἀδμήτου καταστὰς ἴδιόν τινα καὶ παρηλλαγμένον τρόπον. ἔχων γὰρ αὐτοῦ τὸν υἱὸν ὄντα παῖδα πρὸς τὴν ἑστίαν προσέπεσε, ταύτην μεγίστην καὶ μόνην σχεδὸν ἀναντίρρητον ἡγουμένων ἱκεσίαν τῶν Μολοσσῶν. ἔνιοι μὲν οὖν Φθίαν τὴν γυναῖκα τοῦ βασιλέως λέγουσιν ὑποθέσθαι τῷ Θεμιστοκλεῖ τὸ ἱκέτευμα τοῦτο καὶ τὸν υἱὸν ἐπὶ τὴν ἑστίαν καθίσαι μετ’ αὐτοῦ· τινὲς δ’ αὐτὸν τὸν Ἄδμητον, ὡς ἀφοσιώσαιτο πρὸς τοὺς διώκοντας τὴν ἀνάγκην δι’ ἣν οὐκ ἐκδίδωσι τὸν ἄνδρα, διαθεῖναι καὶ συντραγῳδῆσαι τὴν ἱκεσίαν. 24

Θουκυδίδης ἐκπλεῦσαί φησιν αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τὴν ἑτέραν καταβάντα θάλατταν ἀπὸ Πύδνης, οὐδενὸς εἰδότος ὅστις εἴη τῶν πλεόντων, μέχρι οὗ πνεύματι τῆς ὁλκάδος εἰς Θάσον καταφερομένης ὑπ’ Ἀθηναίων πολιορκουμένην τότε, φοβηθεὶς ἀναδείξειεν ἑαυτὸν τῷ τε ναυκλήρῳ καὶ τῷ κυβερνήτῃ, καὶ τὰ μὲν δεόμενος, τὰ δ’ ἀπειλῶν καὶ λέγων ὅτι κατηγορήσοι καὶ καταψεύσοιτο πρὸς τοὺς Ἀθηναίους, ὡς οὐκ ἀγνοοῦντες, ἀλλὰ χρήμασι πεισθέντες ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἀναλάβοιεν αὐτόν, οὕτως ἀναγκάσειε παραπλεῦσαι καὶ λαβέσθαι τῆς Ἀσίας. 25

1998); T.E. Duff, “The Opening of Plutarch’s Life of Themistokles,” grbs 48 (2008) 159– 179; idem, “Plutarch’s Themistocles and Camillus,” Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 45–86; C.D. Graninger, “Plutarch on the Evacuation of Athens (Themistocles 10.8–9),” Hermes 138 (2010) 308–317; K. Uchibayashi, “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives and Heroic Legends: the Lives of Themistocles and Camillus Interpreted as a Single Unit,” jcs 56 (2008) 77–88; T. Späth, “Erzählt, erfunden: Camillus,” in M. Coudry & T. Späth (eds.), L’invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique (Paris, 2003) 341–412.]

some aspects of style

237

But being forewarned, to Kerkyra he crossed, there being under his name a benefaction to the city … Thence he fled to Epeiros.16 And being pursued by the Athenians and by the Lakedaimonians, he threw himself into hopes difficult and inextricable, fleeing to Admetos, who was king of the Molossians, and who having asked a favor of the Athenians, and being insultingly refused by Themistokles when he was at the height of his powers, was filled with rage ever after and clearly, if he might seize him, intending to take revenge. But in the present misfortune, Themistokles was more afraid of family and manifest hatred than of anger ancient and monarchial. Taking himself there, he cast himself on Admetos as a suppliant, making use of a most peculiar and twisted form. For taking the king’s young son in his arms, he fell down at the hearth, since the Molossians considered this the most sacred and nearly the only supplication impossible to refuse. Some say, indeed, that it was Phthia, the king’s wife, who suggested to Themistokles this form of supplication, and that she seated her son on the hearth with him, but others that Admetos, to create a pretence of religious obligation for the pursuers, so as not to surrender the man, arranged things and collaborated in staging this. (24) … Thoukydides says he set sail from Pydna, going across to the opposite sea, no one of the passengers knowing Themistokles’ identity, until, as the vessel was carried by the wind to Thasos, at that time besieged by the Athenians, being frightened, he revealed himself to the master and the captain, both begging and threatening, and claiming he would accuse and falsely testify before the Athenians to their having taken him aboard, not as being ignorant but as having been bribed from the very beginning; that thus he compelled them to sail by and make for Asia … (25).17

16 17

Or “to the mainland” (ἤπειρον). Frost, Themistocles, 203, notes that in Thoukydides the territory was not yet the land of the Molossians. Text of C. Lindskog & K. Ziegler, Plutarchus. Vitae parallelae i.1 (Leipzig, 1957). The section 24.1–5 is found in shorter form in Schol. Thuc., 1.136.1–2: C. Hude, Thucydidis Historiae i (Leipzig, 1913) 99; Schol. bd Ael. Arist. 46.233.17: W. Lindskog (ed.), Aelius Aristides iii (Leipzig, 1829) 680; Schol. Oxon. Ad. Arist., 46.233.17: Lindskog, iii, 680; and part in POxy. 1012 c (Fr. 9) ii, 11.23–34 (Piccirilli, Temistocle εὐεργέτης, 318, 349) but there are no striking similarities with Plutarch’s phraseology, except for εὐεργεσία in POxy. 1012 c (Fr. 9) 26. The matter of 24–25 is covered briefly in Nepos, Themistocles 8; Diodoros, 11.56; and Aristodemos, Fr. 10.1–3: F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker 104, ii, a (Berlin, 1926) 499—commentary, FGrHist, ii, c (Berlin, 1926) 326–327. The date of Aristodemos, who probably used Ephoros, is uncertain, despite attempts to put him in the 4th or 5th cent. ad (Jacoby, ii, c, 319–321). Again, there are no striking parallels in phraseology between

238

part 2, chapter 4

First, compared with Thoukydides, Plutarch’s text reveals a much fuller and more flowery, though not excessively periodic, style, with more attempt at harmony and balance in the sentence structure.18 Thoukydides’ sentences here are generally composed of an introductory participle or prepositional phrase with the verb near the middle of the sentence, followed by another participle or prepositional phrase. Infinitives are frequent and in natural word positions. The sentences are relatively brief, paratactic, and uniform in length. Nor is there a noticeable number of lengthy middle-passive participles. In chapter 24 Plutarch may be trying to reproduce the flavor of Thoukydides, where he at times seems to be imitating him.19 However, the complication of

18

19

Plutarch and Diodoros or Aristodemos. In fact, Plutarch went out of his way to rewrite his sources. In Aristodemos (10.2), as in Thoukydides, Admetos’ wife (unclimactically!) proposes the supplication, and (10.3) Themistokles (not very imaginatively!) threatens to kill the ship captain if not obeyed; in Nepos, 8.7, he promises a great reward (multa pollicens) if saved; Cf. Frost, Themistocles, 206–208. Ziegler gives Νάξος in place of the mss. “Θάσος” (25.2), but Flacelière, “Sur quelques points obscurs de la vie de Thémistocle,”rea 55 (1953) 4–28, esp. 4–8; idem, Plutarque. Vies ii, 130; and Carena et al., Temistocle, 273–274, convincingly argue that Plutarch intended to write Θάσος. S. Yaginuma, “Thucydides 6.100,” in E.M. Craik (ed.), “Owls to Athens.” Essays on Classical Subjects Presented to Sir Kenneth Dover (Oxford, 1990) 281–285, finds five sentences: the first 137 words long, the second 7, the third 13, the fourth 25, and the fifth 22. He rejects the view of J. Steup (J. Steup and J. Classen, Thukydides i [Berlin, 51919] lxxviii) that the difference in length is due to Thoukydides being in a line of development from εἰρομένη λέξις (linear style) to κατεστραμμένη λέξις (periodic style). He argues, rather, that in the long sentences, hypotactical units are united into larger paratactical units to express a single action or event in a single sentence “in its multi-faceted entirety with motives, grounds, purposes, expectations, results and so on” (284). P.A. Stadter, “Thucydidean Orators in Plutarch,” in P.A. Stadter (ed.), The Speeches in Thucydides. A Collection of Original Studies with a Bibliography (Chapel Hill, 1973) 109–123, convincingly demonstrates how Plutarch distanced himself from the stylistic and intellectual characteristics of Thoukydides’ speeches (120–123). However, D.P. Tompkins, “Stylistic Characteristics in Thucydides: Nicias and Alcibiades,” in A. Parry (ed.), Studies in FifthCentury Thought and Literature (Cambridge, Mass., 1972) 181–214, shows that the speeches are much more individualistic and dramatic than critics have allowed (214). [en: T.E. Duff, “The First Five Anecdotes of Plutarch’s Life of Alkibiades,” in De Blois (ed.), The Stateman in Plutarch’s Works, 157–166; J.M. Candau Morón, “Plutarco como transmisor de Timeo: la Vida de Nicias,” Ploutarchos 2 (2004–2005) 11–34; E. Alexiou, “Plutarchs Lysander und Alkibiades als Syzygie: ein Beitrag zum moralischen Programm Plutarchs,” RhM 153 (2010) 323–352; I.S. Chialva, “… Como una tragedia: historía y páthos en las Vidas de Nicias y Craso de Plutarco,” in F. Vergara Cerqueira & M.A. Silva de Oliveira (eds.), Ensaios sobre Plutarco

some aspects of style

239

the third sentence (24.2) goes beyond Thoukydides: an introductory phrase, main verb, participle with prepositional phrase and a relative clause. The relative clause includes within it two balanced aorist passive participles and a temporal clause. The subordinate verb is followed by another subordinate verb in a conditional clause, itself containing a future participle to indicate purpose, and ending with the long participle τιμωρησόμενος.20 Something similar occurs in 25. Plutarch begins slowly with a 6 word sentence. The next sentence contains 37 words of indirect discourse including a genitive absolute and a noun clause after a main verb. But by the third sentence (25.2)—that beginning the selection in 25 above—he has risen to a crescendo: accusative with infinitive in indirect discourse after a main verb, prepositional phrase, genitive absolute, indirect question, temporal clause with a participial phrase split by an absolute before the subordinate verb, two parallel participles, noun clause with two parallel subordinate verbs, another subordinate adverbial clause within the noun clause with two parallel participles, and a result clause with two parallel infinitives. The total comes to 71 words. Particularly striking is his use of long middle-passive participles, though with great variety: (24) 1. 2.

20

προαισθόμενος (Thoukydides 1.136.1, but placed after “Themistokles”) … aorist active. γενόμενος (1.136.3) … aorist active. διωκόμενος (1.136.2) aorist active. προπηλακισθείς … aorist active, imperfect active … τιμωρησόμενος (for infinitive τιμωρεῖσθαι) (1.136.41).

(Pelotas: Universidade Federal de Pelotas, 2010) 149–178; S. Verdegem, Plutarch’s Life of Alcibiades: Story, Text and Moralism (Leuven: University Press, 2010); S. Verdegem, “Parallels and Contrasts: Plutarch’s Comparison of Coriolanus and Alcibiades,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 23–44; A. Larivée, “Eros tyrannos: Alcibiades as the Model of the Tyrant in Book ix of the Republic,” ijpt 6 (2012) 1–26; G. Roskam, “Socrates and Alcibiades: a notorious σκάνδαλον in the later Platonist tradition,” in L. Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 85–100; D. Leão, “The Eleusinian Mysteries and Political Timing in the Life of Alcibiades,” ibidem, 181–192; M.A. Lucchesi, “Love Theory and Political Practice in Plutarch: The Amatorius and the Lives of Coriolanus and Alcibiades,” in Ch. Sanders, Ch.C. Thumiger, N.J. Lowe (eds.), Erôs in ancient Greece (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013) 209–228.] The ending does not fit any of Sandbach’s rhythms, either to be preferred or avoided. The absolute frequencies in the Lives are similar to those in Moralia (“Rhythm,” 194).

240 3. 4.

part 2, chapter 4

aorist passive participle … present participle, aorist active … aorist active participle … παρηλλαγμένον … present active participle … aorist active … ἡγουμένων …

(25) 2.

3.

(indirect discourse) … καταφερομένης … πολιορκουμένην … aorist passive participle … aorist optative … δεόμενος (1.136.4: δεομένῳ) present participle … present participle … present participle … πεισθέντες … (1.137.2: πεισθείς). (not given above) … ὑπεκκλαπέντα … imperfect active … γενομένων καὶ συναχθέντων … κεκτημένου.

A preference for the longer participal form, even in the present active, is observable in 24.2, where the abundant and more charming, but also somewhat prosaic and factual, “there being under his name a benefaction to the city” (οὔσης αὐτῷ πρὸς τὴν πόλιν εὐεργεσίας) replaces Thoukydides’ simpler and more prosaic phrase, “being their benefactor” (ὢν αὐτῶν εὐεργέτης).21 There is a tendency toward the longer periodic sentence, though with great variety accompanied by “defeating of expectation.” The first 31 lines of Thoukydides yield 10 sentences vs. Plutarch’s 7 for the same number of lines. The opening 11 lines of chapter 25 consist of a single sentence, which, beginning non-periodically, keeps accumulating information and heightening suspense. The more natural language of Thoukydides, in contrast, is more staccato and less flowing.22 Plutarch, whose object is “biography not history,” achieves this 21

22

Plutarch’s source was Theophrastos, Περὶ Καιρῶν, on which, according to the Lamprias catalogue, he wrote a commentary. The Theophrastos passage, which is transmitted in POxy. 1012 c (Fr. 9) col. ii, 11.23–35, contains both a εὐεργέτης and εὐεργεσία: ὅτ[ι ἦ]ν αὐ| τὴ[ν] εὐ[εργέ]της τὴν εὐεργεσίαν | [οὐκ εἶπε ταύ]την· The original source of the fragment is the Atthis (attributed to Kleidemos [or Kleitodemos], floruit c. 350 bc). Another version of the Admetos incident would have been transmitted through Ephoros to Nepos and Diodoros. Cf. Piccirilli, Gli arbitrati, 6–63; idem, Temistocle εὐεργέτης, 318, 340, 355; Manfredini, Thucydides, 201–203. Gomme, A Historical Commentary on Thucydides i, 438, notes that ὢν αὐτῶν εὐεργέτης was an official title of honor, such as often given by states to foreigners or to other states (citing M.N. Tod, A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the End of the Fifth Century b.c. [Oxford, 1933], no. 84, line 30; no. 86, line 28). M.N. Tod, Greek Historical Inscriptions ii (Oxford, 21946), gives two inscriptions (no. 116 [p. 45], and no. 148 [p. 147]) where εὐεργεσία appears; however, οὔσης εὐεργεσίας does not occur. The term εὐεργέτης almost always appears with some form of the verb εἶναι, usually in the form εὐεργέτην εἶναι. In his lecture on Thoukydides and Plutarch, Professor Bühler noted that the Thucydidean

some aspects of style

241

result in part through his intensive focusing on Themistokles, whereas Thoukydides shifts the point of view slightly—at 136.1 (Kerkyraioi), 136.3 (Admetos), 137.1 (Admetos), 137.2 (the ship captain). Another facet of magnificence through amplification is the use of doublets. Plutarch repeats the doublet of the source, sometimes in a new position, or doubles where the source is more terse. Among such instances, one might note the following: (24) 2.

3. 4. 5.

ὑπὸ τῶν Ἀθηναίων καὶ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων χαλεπὰς καὶ ἀπόρους δεηθεὶς … καὶ προπηλακισθείς συγγενῆ καὶ πρόσφατον παλαιᾶς καὶ βασιλικῆς ἴδιόν τινα καὶ παρηλλαγμένον μεγίστην καὶ μόνην τὸ ἱκέτευμα τοῦτο καὶ τὸν υἱόν διαθεῖναι καὶ συντραγῳδῆσαι

(25) 2.

τῷ τε ναυκλήρῳ καὶ τῷ κυβερνήτῃ ἀπειλῶν καὶ λέγων κατηγορήσοι καὶ καταψεύσοιτο ἀγνοοῦντες, ἀλλὰ … πεισθέντες παραπλεῦσαι καὶ λαβέσθαι.23

(24) 2.

23

By the Athenians and Lakedaimonians grievous and desperate asking for a favor and being insulted passage is characterized by parataxis, a larger number of facts, and the simple relation of dangers rather than mention of their existence. He also observed that where citing Thoukydides Plutarch has employed unusually long indirect discourse, even if natural in the circumstances. Professor Bühler notes that the parallelism of these phrases differs considerably, with some words belonging to different categories of thought.

242 3. 4. 5.

part 2, chapter 4

kind and recent of long standing and royal quite peculiar and extraordinary most great and alone [not to be refused] the form of supplication and the son arranged and rehearsed

(25) 2.

to the master and the captain of the ship threatening and saying that he would denounce and vilify not under ignorance but under bribes to sail by and make for the coast of Asia.

Another feature is dramatic intensification or heightening of the effect, often by concentration on the inner psychological state of the protagonist rather than the tactical or circumstantial aspects which usually characterize history. For example at 24.2, he suddenly shifts from an expected concrete object to an abstract and highly psychological one: “threw himself into difficult and inextricable hopes.”24 The melodramatic expression replaces the bland and pragmatic phrase of his Thucydidean model “in an impasse.” In general, Plutarch’s imagination freely spices his text with dramatic exaggeration. For example, Thoukydides’ more placid Admetos is only “not friendly” (οὐ φίλον, 136.2) to Themistokles, while Plutarch’s king is thirsting for vengeance: Admetos “was angry with him ever after and had sworn revenge” (δι’ ὀργῆς εἶχεν αὐτὸν αἰεί, τιμωρησόμενος, 24.2). Similarly, where Thoukydides’ hero is content simply to “sit down by the hearth” (καθέζεσθαι, 136.3), Plutarch’s more impetuous one “fell down” (προσέπεσε, 24.4), holding Admetos’ child in his arms. He first narrates the hair-raising event in one version, then employing “some said” Plutarch relates the Thucydidean version—with the “sit down” followed by another version in which Admetos engineers all. At 25.2 Plutarch employs the less dramatic “carried off by the wind” (for the ship), and a slightly fuller form “frightened” or “fearing” (φοβηθείς) (for Themistokles). Thoukydides employs the stronger “carried by a storm,” and the less ample form for “fear-

24

Loeb: “threw himself upon grievous and desperate chances of escape” (B. Perrin, Plutarch’s Lives ii [London, 1914] 65); Budé: “il se jeta dans une tentative péri1euse et désespérée” (R. Flacelière et al., Plutarque. Vies ii, 129).

some aspects of style

243

ing” (δείσας, 137.2). Plutarch emphasizes more “entreaties and threats” without relating explicitly, as does Thoukydides, the Machiavellian scheme leaving the pilot no choice. The condensed versions in Diodoros (11.56.1–3) and Nepos’ Themistocles (11.8.3–8), like Plutarch’s, omit the Odyssean craftiness used by Themistocles against Admetos (Thoukydides, 136.4). But for dramatic effect, in 24 Plutarch may have desired to concentrate everything on the supplication with the boy. Thus, he reserves for 25.2, as an example of the hero’s cunning, an exaggerated version of Themistokles’ intimidation of the ship captain. Nor do Diodoros and Nepos indulge in the Plutarchan doubling. Adding to the baroque effect of the Plutarchan Life is the constant intimation of motion. Following Thoukydides, he relates that Themistokles “crossed over”—followed by background information on his role of arbitrator at Kerkyra (Corcyra); “thence he fled” to Epeiros (24), and “threw himself” into … hopes—followed by information on Admetos; then “threw himself down” at the hearth—followed by explanation of the form of supplication, and the two versions of the story. After this he “made his way to the sea,” “set sail,” “compelled them to sail by and make the coast of Asia.” Thoukydides, however, who shifts the viewpoint to the Kerkyrians, depicts a Themistokles who is not “conveyed” but who “fled.” He then “approaches” Admetos’ wife, is instructed, and presents a rather sophistical argument to Admetos, who “gave him an escort” to go to Pydna. Later in Thoukidides, Themistokles tells the captain why he is “fleeing,” and then the ship “arrives” at Ephesos. Plutarch’s account uses 6 verbs of motion associated with Themistokles, 4 of which are swift or violent motion. In contrast, Thoukydides employs only 2 verbs of active motion for the hero.

2

Escaping the Ships of Libo

A revealing passage for simplification, focusing, and recasting in terms of motion and spatial fluidity occurs in the seventh chapter of the Antonios. The hero, attempting to bring reinforcements to Julius Caesar in the war against Pompeius Magnus, is intercepted by the enemy fleet. Worried about Caesar, who is surrounded at Dyrrachion, he breaks Libo’s blockade at Brundisium, and puts to sea with “eight hundred cavalry and twenty thousand legionaries.” The account runs like a nightmare (7.4–6): καὶ γενόμενος καταφανὴς τοῖς πολεμίοις καὶ διωκόμενος, τὸν μὲν ἐκ τούτων κίνδυνον διέφυγε, λαμπροῦ νότου κῦμα μέγα καὶ κοίλην θάλατταν ταῖς τριήρεσιν αὐτῶν περιστήσαντος, ἐκφερόμενος δὲ ταῖς ναυσὶ πρὸς κρημνοὺς καὶ φάραγγας ἀγχιβαθεῖς, οὐδεμίαν ἐλπίδα σωτηρίας εἶχεν. ἄφνω δὲ τοῦ κόλπου πολὺν

244

part 2, chapter 4

ἐκπνεύσαντος λίβα, καὶ τοῦ κλύδωνος ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς εἰς τὸ πέλαγος διαχεομένου, μεταβαλόμενος ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς καὶ πλέων σοβαρῶς ὁρᾷ ναυαγίων περίπλεων τὸν αἰγιαλόν. ἐνταῦθα γὰρ ἐξέβαλε τὸ πνεῦμα τὰς διωκούσας αὐτὸν τριήρεις, καὶ διεφθάρησαν οὐκ ὀλίγαι· καὶ σωμάτων πολλῶν καὶ χρημάτων ἐκράτησεν Ἀντώνιος, καὶ Λίσσον εἷλε, καὶ μέγα Καίσαρι παρέσχε θάρσος, ἐν καιρῷ μετὰ τηλικαύτης ἀφικόμενος δυνάμεως. Being discovered by the enemy and pursued, he escaped the danger from them—a violent Southeaster bringing a heavy swell and creating great troughs in the sea—but carried with his own ships toward steep cliffs and craggy shores running down to the deep, had no hope of escape. Suddenly, with a strong Southwester blowing from the bay, and the surf rolling out from land to the open sea, reversing his course away from the land and sailing aggressively along, he saw the shore filled with wrecks.25 For here the wind had cast up the triremes pursuing him and destroyed not a few. Antony took many bodies and much treasure, captured Lissos and gave great confidence to Caesar, by arriving with such great force in the opportune moment.26 The account, with its focus on the protagonist and its simplification of the historical sequence, radically contrasts, both in the narration of details and in emphasis, with Caesar’s Bellum Civile and Appian’s Bella Civilia.27 In Caesar the central themes are the skill and (lack of) experience of his army, his own generosity, the danger to his inexperienced troops, and the perversity of the enemy. Absent from the account is the number of the soldiers transported, something which in Plutarch’s version magnifies the risk. Plutarch omits the cocommander of the operation, Fufius Calenus, something which would distract from the importance of Antony. Caesar also depicts the army’s morale as somewhat forcing the issue, and makes the pursuer, Coponius, in command of the Rhodian fleet, a protagonist. Coponius at first pursues with a failing wind,

25

26 27

The term σοβαρῶς, translated “haughtily” here, is frequent in Plutarch. It combines the ideas of speed and vigor (lsj i: violent or rushing motion as of the wind), with haughtiness, pride, and magnificence (Pelling, Life of Antony, 133). lsj also gives “triumphant,” “insolent,” “fearless.” Ending with a mouthful, the labored phrase τηλικαύτης ἀφικόμενος δυνάμεως is Plutarch’s third most favored rhythm – ⏑ ⏑ ⏑ x – (Cf. Sandbach, “Rhythm,” 194). Plutarch’s imagination has altered the source, possibly through a misunderstanding of the Latin at 7.5 (Pelling, Life of Antony, 133).

some aspects of style

245

to take advantage of his heavier fleet. Then the same south wind (Auster) as it rises aids the Caesarian fleet; but Coponius relentlessly continues the pursuit, hoping somehow to take advantage even of the tempest. The Caesarian fleet is carried past Dyrrachion by the storm, still pursued by Coponius. Finally it turns into a harbor (Nymphaion), three miles beyond Lissos, protected from the southeast wind (Africus) but not from the south (Auster). At this moment the south wind (Notos), which had been blowing for two days, suddenly turned into a southwest wind (Lips). While the Caesarian ships are protected by the harbor, the Rhodian ones are dashed along the coast and their crews either killed against the rocks or captured and sent home by Caesar. Later, however, two Caesarian ships with inexperienced troops, which had been pursuing a slower course, anchor opposite Lissos, foolishly surrender, and are massacred. To highlight the centrality of Antony and narrate events from his viewpoint, Plutarch omits many of the Caesarian details. Narrated with an almost Homeric simplicity, the account pits Antony either against almost nameless adversaries or the elemental forces of wind and waves.28 Dreamlike visions of flight and pursuit are depicted against a universal seascape: violent winds, swells, precipitous coastlines, shores lined with shipwrecks. Again, he transforms the Caesarian phraseology. The “south wind” becomes a “violent south wind.” He gratuitously adds a “heavy swell” (κῦμα μέγα), “precipices and crags dropping deep into the water” (κρημνοὺς καὶ φάραγγας ἀγχιβαθεῖς), “without hope of escape,” “swell running from land out to sea” (τοῦ κλύδωνος ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς εἰς τὸ πέλαγος διαχεομένου). The destruction of “sixteen Rhodian vessels” now becomes an expressionistic “shore covered with wrecks.” All are, presumably, the offspring of his own fertile imagination. Elsewhere in the Lives Plutarch delights in the sudden reversal of a situation. His imagination could not resist the magnificent, though probably unfounded, addition— Antony reversing his course and sailing aggressively along (πλέων σοβαρῶς) as he surveys the wrecks of the enemy fleet. Plutarch eliminates the loss of the two Caesarian ships, which would have weakened the effect of sudden reversal. His penchant for magnification through doublets is also evident here: γενόμενος καταφανὴς … καὶ διωκόμενος, κῦμα μέγα καὶ κοίλην θάλατταν, πρὸς κρημνοὺς καὶ φάραγγας, μεταβαλόμενος … καὶ πλέων σοβαρῶς, ἐξέβαλε … καὶ διεφθάρησαν (having become clearly seen … and being pursued, a heavy

28

See, for example, Brenk, “Unum pro multis caput,” 793–801; and Nicoll, “The Sacrifice of Palinurus,” 461–462.

246

part 2, chapter 4

swell and hollow sea, toward grags and precipices, turning about, and sailing proudly, thew out … and destroyed.) Caesar’s more factual, pragmatic, strategic account designed as military and political propaganda has been metamorphosized into a highly psychological account centered on Antony’s inner feelings of first despair and then elation.29 The enemy and the power of the elements stand in confrontation with the isolated person, “he:” “discovered,” “pursued,” “escaped,” “carried,” “having no hope,” “able to reverse course,” “sailing haughtily along,” “seeing,” “taking prisoners and booty,” “capturing Lissos,” and “inspiring Caesar with confidence as he arrives in the nick of time.” In Caesar’s Bellum civile, however, Antony, linked with Calenus, the cocommander, fades away before the impersonal “they,” “our men,” “those,” “our ships,” and the passage terminates with the real protagonist, Caesar. “He,” in fact, is not Antony but the enemy admiral, Coponius, whose viewpoint covers the initial part of the narrative, which later shifts toward that of “our men.” The briefer account of Appianos at first sight appears to use Antony’s perspective. But in reality Antony’s viewpoint only frames the viewpoint of his troops. Otherwise the narrative, with some logical amplification on military strategy or background follows the general lines of Caesar’s: ὁ δ’ Ἀντώνιος τοὺς ἑτέρους ἐπὶ τὰς ναῦς ἐπιβήσας Ἀπολλωνίαν μὲν παρέπλευσεν, ἱστίοις μεστοῖς ἐπιπνέοντος ἀνέμου· χαλάσαντος δὲ τοῦ πνεύματος περὶ μεσημβρίαν εἴκοσι τοῦ Πομπηίου νῆες, ἐπ’ ἔρευναν τῆς θαλάσσης ἀναχθεῖσαι, καθορῶσι τοὺς πολεμίους καὶ ἐδίωκον. τοῖς δὲ ὡς ἐν γαλήνῃ δέος ἦν πολύ, μὴ σφᾶς ἀνατρήσειαν ἢ καταδύσειαν αἱ μακραὶ τοῖς ἐμβόλοις· καὶ τὰ εἰκότα παρεσκευάζοντο, σφενδόναι τε ἠφίεντο ἤδη καὶ βέλη. καὶ ὁ ἄνεμος ἄφνω μείζων ἢ πρότερον ἐπέρραξεν. αἱ μὲν δὴ μεγοις ἐξ ἀέλπτου τὸ πνεῦμα ἐδέχοντο καὶ διέπλεον ἀδεῶς· αἱ δ’ ἀπελείποντο, ῥοθίῳ καὶ πνεύματι καὶ θαλάσσῃ κοίλῃ κακοπαθοῦσαι. καὶ μόλις ἐς ἀλίμενα καὶ πετρώδη διερρίφησαν, δύο τινὰς ἐς τέλμα τῶν Καίσαρος κατενεχθείσας ἑλοῦσαι. Ἀντώνιος δὲ ταῖς λοιπαῖς ἐς τὸ καλούμενον Νυμφαῖον κατήχθη. Antony embarked the remainder of the army and sailed past Apollonia with a strong favoring wind. About noon the wind failed, and twenty of 29

G.W. Bowersock, “Discussion,” in Flashar (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome, contested by Lasserre, stresses the non-rhetorical character of Caesar’s Commentarii, compared to history (167). However, see also L. Raditsa, “Julius Caesar and his Writings,” anrw i.3 (1973) 417– 456, for Caesar’s “veracity” (433–442).

some aspects of style

247

Pompeius’ ships, which were searching the seas, discovered and pursued them. For Antonius’ men being in a calm there was great fear of the enemy ramming and sinking them, that is, the enemy warships with their rams. They prepared themselves, therefore, for the eventuality and began to discharge stones and darts. Unexpectedly, however, the wind began to blow more strongly than before. With their large sails they received the wind and sailed on fearlessly. The other ships were left behind, pounded by the swell, wind, and troughs of sea. They were scattered along a harborless and rocky coast and only with difficulty captured two of Caesar’s ships that had run aground on a shoal. Antonius, though, with the remainder sailed into the port of Nymphaion.30 The account is rather coldly factual except for mention of the troops’ fear, but even their anxiety is expressed in relatively weak terminology (δέος ἦν πολύ, ἀδεῶς). The description of cliffs, sea, wind, coastline, and wrecks are a pale reflection of Plutarch’s.

3

The Battle of Actium

Unfortunately, for the Battle of Actium (chapter 66) we lack a good source with which to compare Plutarch.31 Cassius Dio wrote long after Plutarch and probably is influenced by him. Still, Dion’s narrative helps reconstruct Plutarch’s originality in the reshaping of sources and the imposition of his own literary conception. In Plutarch, “the kings” have already begun to defect. Antony’s general, Canidius, advises Antony to dismiss Kleopatra and decide the issue by land, either in Thrace or Macedonia, and surrender the sea to “Caesar,” who has already demonstrated his naval superiority in the war against Sextus. However, Kleopatra’s preference for a naval battle prevails, “though she was already contemplating flight” and disposing her forces for easy escape (63.8). A centurion also begs Antony to fight on land rather than on “rotten timbers,” but the hero can only offer a cheery look and pass on. He “has no good hopes”—according to our author—since he compels the captains to bring their sails along. After four days of stormy seas, during which the fleets lie idle, favorable conditions return and battle is decided upon (64). The opposing commanders are said to have

30 31

Bellum Civile 2.59 Text of L. Mendelssohn, rev., P. Viereck, Appiani Historia Romana ii (Leipzig, 1905) 195. The last line seems to be corrupt; Cf. Viereck, ad loc. Pelling, Life of Antony, 278–291; see also B. Scardigli, Die Römerbiographien Plutarchs, 149.

248

part 2, chapter 4

given exhortations to their troops. “Caesar” encounters Eutychos (“Fortunate”) and his ass, Nikon (“Victorious”), which he interprets as a good omen. At the sixth hour, after remaining motionless for a long time, the wind begins to rise. Antony’s men become impatient and start the attack, to the delight of “Caesar” (65). The ships of both sides, though, for tactical reasons avoid ramming one another, so that the conflict resembles a battle on land rather than at sea. Then the center falls into confusion as Antony’s commander, Publicola, attempts to prevent an encircling movement by Agrippa. Plutarch continues (66.5–7): … ἀκρίτου δὲ καὶ κοινῆς ἔτι τῆς ναυμαχίας συνεστώσης, αἰφνίδιον αἱ Κλεοπάτρας ἑξήκοντα νῆες ὤφθησαν αἰρόμεναι πρὸς ἀπόπλουν τὰ ἱστία καὶ διὰ μέσου φεύγουσαι τῶν μαχομένων· ἦσαν γὰρ ὀπίσω τεταγμέναι τῶν μεγάλων καὶ διεκπίπτουσαι ταραχὴν ἐποίουν. οἱ δ’ ἐναντίοι θαυμάζοντες ἐθεῶντο, τῷ πνεύματι χρωμένας ὁρῶντες ἐπεχούσας πρὸς τὴν Πελοπόννησον. ἔνθα δὴ φανερὸν αὑτὸν Ἀντώνιος ἐποίησεν οὔτ’ ἄρχοντος οὔτ’ ἀνδρὸς οὔθ’ ὅλως ἰδίοις λογισμοῖς διοικούμενον, ἀλλ’—ὅπερ τις παίζων εἶπε τὴν ψυχὴν τοῦ ἐρῶντος ἐν ἀλλοτρίῳ σώματι ζῆν—ἑλκόμενος ὑπὸ τῆς γυναικὸς ὥσπερ συμπεφυκὼς καὶ συμμεταφερόμενος. οὐ γὰρ ἔφθη τὴν ἐκείνης ἰδὼν ναῦν ἀποπλέουσαν, καὶ πάντων ἐκλαθόμενος, καὶ προδοὺς καὶ ἀποδρὰς τοὺς ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ μαχομένους καὶ θνῄσκοντας, εἰς πεντήρη μεταβάς, Ἀλεξᾶ τοῦ Σύρου καὶ Σκελλίου μόνων αὐτῷ συνεμβάντων, ἐδίωκε τὴν ἀπολωλεκυῖαν ἤδη καὶ προσαπολοῦσαν αὐτόν. … although the sea battle was still undecided and equally favorable to both sides, suddenly the sixty ships of Kleopatra were seen hoisting their sails for breaking away, and then fleeing through the middle of the combatants. For they had been stationed in the rear of the warships, and by breaking out through the engaged vessels created confusion. The enemy looked on with amazement as they observed them taking advantage of the wind and heading for the Peloponnesos. Here, then, Antonius revealed himself to be guided not by a commander’s, nor a man’s, nor even by his own tactics, but as a wit remarked “a lover’s soul dwells in another’s body,” so he was dragged along by the woman as if grown attached and carried along. For he wasted no time watching her ship sail away, but oblivious of all, betraying and running away from men fighting and dying on his behalf, he embarked on a five-oared galley, where Alexas the Syrian and Skellios were his only companions, and hastened after the woman, who having destroyed him already was about to add to his destruction.32

32

Ziegler adds the less elegant ἑαυτήν before the mss.’ ἀπολωλεκυῖαν in 66.8. The normal

some aspects of style

249

Dion, who is primarily concerned with the probabilities of the situation, does not totally eliminate the motif of destruction through eros, but his version is much longer and quite different. Kleopatra, who despairs of winning, decides that the army should occupy the most favorable strategic positions, while she and Antony depart for Egypt. To motivate the queen, Dion uses the swallow and statue portents used by Plutarch, along with the low morale and disease afflicting Antony’s troops. They decide, though, not to sail away secretly, lest they demoralize their allies, but to feint a naval battle—advisable in any case since they might meet resistance (50.15). Long speeches by Antony and “Caesar” to their troops follow, that of Octavius, a mine of anti-Antonine propaganda (50.16 30).33 “Caesar,” who intuits the strategy of the pair, intends to fall upon the rear, planning to capture Antony and Kleopatra as they retreat. But his commanding general, Agrippa, argues that their own ships are too slow to pursue but have a strategic advantage over Antony’s vessels, which have already been battered by a storm. After a long delay, then, as in Plutarch, “Caesar” begins an encircling movement which forces Antony to respond (50.31). In the action which ensues “Caesar’s” ships dart in and out ramming the enemy, but are vulnerable to rocks and missiles launched from the towering ships of their adversaries (50.32). Dion’s account now begins to move away from Plutarch’s toward the expressionistic. The battle is still indecisive, until Kleopatra become impatient and “tortured by the agony of such long suspense—as typical of a woman and an Egyptian”—and by “fearful expectation” turns and runs. Antony, because he believes the ships have been routed, not that they were following Kleopatra’s orders, follows suit (50.33). There follows a bitter and protracted

33

meaning of προσαπόλλυμι, is “destroy (another) besides,” though in its unique occurrence elsewhere in Plutarch (Quomode adulator 68A), it means simply “destroy,” or “besides the other evils caused, destroy.” The verb has been conjectured, wrongly, in Phoc. and Cat. 2.5, Pomp. 84.8, and Artax. 22.5 for προαπόλλυμι. Professor Bühler suggests ἀπολωλυῖαν for ἀπολωλεκυῖαν. However, though “complete the destruction of” is not given for προαπόλλυμι in lsj, it is paralleled by προσγενόμενος (added to), προσγιγνόμενος (reinforcement), προσγιγνώσκω (learn in addition), προσδίδωμι (pay in addition), etc. I am grateful to Professor Édouard Des Places for his opinion here. The last three words (excepting ἤδη καὶ), ἀπολωλεκυῖαν ἤδη καὶ προσαπολοῦσαν αὐτόν, are extremely rhythmical, with repetition in meter corresponding to repetition in sense. Variety gained through the accents: ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ – ⏑ [καὶ πρὸς] ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ (falling under Plutarch’s most favored ending, – ⏑ – x) (Sandbach, “Rhythm,” 194–195, who notes that Plato in his later works did not treat the final syllable as anceps). See H. Botermann, “Review of P. Wallmann, Triumviri Rei Publicae Constituendae. Untersuchungen zur politischen Propaganda im Zweiten Triumvirat (43–30 v. Chr.) (Frankfurt, 1989),” Gnomon 62 (1990) 330–334, esp. 333–334, who believes the truth is lost to history and accuses Wallmann of being the latest victim of Augustan propaganda.

250

part 2, chapter 4

struggle between and on the opposing ships, resolved only in the most horrible way when “Caesar” orders fire to be launched against the enemy ships. An inferno ensues which initiates the ghastly destruction of the enemy, “overcome by the smoke, consumed in their armor, wounded by the missiles, drowned or struck by their opponents, or mangled by sea-monsters.” Dion contrasts the horror of these deaths with those of others who were killed by their fellow soldiers or found some other way to die, “for they having had no tortures to endure, dead as on a pyre, were cremated in the ships.” A grim cautionary tale of avarice follows: others, of “Caesar’s” own troops, who had hoped to seize treasure, sealed their own doom as “through the flame and their robberies they perished” (50.33–35).34 “Caesar” despatches part of his fleet to pursue Antony; but realizing their inability to overtake him, they return (51.1). The battle narrative ends abruptly at this point. Compared with Plutarch’s version, Antony’s flight is relatively unclimactic, even if Dion’s narrative does not entirely bear out his theory of a pretended battle. In Dion, since Antony’s retreat supposedly has already been decided upon, the battle only serves as a diversion for the flight. Obviously then his flight cannot be motivated through eros for the femme fatale. Rather his flight is motivated through belief that the battle had already been lost and his own forces routed. The flow of the narrative, perhaps to create suspense, is broken by exceedingly long speeches and by constant digressions on motives or military strategy. The viewpoint of the battle scenes shifts back and forth between the engaged combatants, except for the brief moment in 33.3, where Antony sees the Egyptian queen fleeing.35 Immediately after, the viewpoint returns to the combatants, then passes to “Caesar,” who issues the last command. The final, manneristic depictions of nightmarish agonies inflicted on anonymous and anti-heroic troops might be read symbolically as a statement on the magnitude of cruelty and perversity which lies dormant within the human psyche. Plutarch, after an introduction divided between the two commanders, focuses our attention almost entirely on the psychological reactions of Antony. Two exceptions are Octavius’ delight at witnessing the spontaneous advance of Antony’s fleet and the amazement registered by “Caesar’s” men when they see the Egyptian vessels streaking for the Peloponnesos. Even more than in Dion, Antony is dragged along rather than shaping destiny. His ships without an order advance to the attack; his own ships are surrounded by Caesarian ships attack-

34 35

The text ends very suddenly here, as though something were lost in the transmission. According to Pelling, Life of Antony, 284, Kleopatra’s treachery, which was first related in Iosepos (Josephus), Against Apion 2.59, seems unknown to the Augustan poets.

some aspects of style

251

ing like wasps and are encircled by Agrippa; the center falls into confusion; and the sixty ships of Kleopatra flee. The sole positive action of Antony is his hasty retreat into a galley to pursue “the [woman], who already having destroyed him was about to add to his destruction.” This focusing is reinforced by frequent use of the hero’s name: “those of Antonius,” “about one [ship] of Antonius,” “the [soldiers] of Antonius,” “Antonius revealed himself.” The next chapter (57) employs his name ten times. Here his initial rapid action to prevent Kleopatra’s ship from being rammed by Eurykles is succeeded by his sulking at the prow. Plutarch’s account, like that for Dyrrachion, is dreamlike, but not a nightmare. Compared with Dion’s it is a model of simplicity. The actual engagement, a battle momentous for all future history, occupies less than a single chapter. Skirmishes between or on board ships are subordinated to the general tactical movements of the fleets. The protagonists thus reduce themselves, as though on a stage, to a relatively small number: Antony, “Caesar,” Agrippa, Publicola, Kleopatra—followed by the minor characters Alexas and Skellios, the late arriving Eurykles, and a chorus of anonymous soldiers and sailors. Where Dion relishes the confused and detailed horror of visual phenomena, Plutarch more abstractly and intellectually surveys events from a distance, generating quasiuniversal battles against quasi-universal seascapes, and concentrates on the passion of the protagonists: the sea tossed for four days by the wind, the wind rising from the sea at the sixth hour, Antony’s left wing put in motion, “Caesar’s” backward motion, smaller Caesarian ships surrounding the monstrous hulks of Antony, Agrippa’s left wing beginning the encircling movement, Publicola’s center in confusion, Kleopatra’s ship sailing away, and “the soul of a lover dwelling in another’s body.” Then Plutarch’s lens seems to “zoom in” on more individualistic detail. As Kleopatra’s ship sails away, Antony embarks in the ship of Alexas and Skellios, a five-oared galley (penteres). Kleopatra recognizes Antony and hoists him aboard, as though offering a premonition of his death scene later in her monument near the sea at Alexandria. There follows the somewhat detailed confrontation with Eurykles and the intimate details on board ship. Finally, like the divine couple of Homer the two are persuaded to “eat and sleep together,” thus drawing the curtain on the Battle of Actium. Plutarch has also motivated his scenes much more through interior feelings than has Dion. Dion’s Kleopatra does turn and sail away through anxiety about the outcome, but Plutarch’s characters are much more Euripidean in their emotional motivation. “Caesar” is “astonished” (ἐθαύμασεν, 65.6) to see the enemy motionless, as though riding at anchor. The soldiers “impatient of delay” advance without orders. “Caesar” is “delighted” (ἥσθε, 65.8) at this unexpected turn. However, Plutarch unexpectedly omits any rational or irrational motive for Kleopatra’s flight. His silence perhaps results from his focusing upon the

252

part 2, chapter 4

singular viewpoint of his hero, but it also suggests an irrational motive for her retreat. Plutarch reflects rather on the soul of Antony, which is dragged along by eros as though no longer in his own body but biologically attached to that of his love. He also omits any emotional reaction of Kleopatra in 67 as she hauls Antony aboard. Thus, the reader’s attention can be entirely focused on Antony’s depression, his defense against Eurykles—who is himself motivated by the passion for vengeance—and his sulking “either through anger or ashamed to face her” (εἴθ’ ὑπ’ ὀργῆς εἴτ’ αἰδούμενος ἐκείνην). He returns to normal existence through conversation (λόγοι), followed by eating and sleeping with Kleopatra. The scene foreshadows his later, self-imposed exile at the “Timoneion” on Pharos and his return from isolation, when he abandons himself to banquets and, one would piously suppose, the pleasures of love. At Actium the wind and sea and in particular the shifting breeze act as a symbolic background to the untrustworthiness of Kleopatra and the instability of erotic passion which governs the hero’s conduct.36 The motifs of the early seascapes of Antony’s escapade with the Pompeian fleet over against Dyrrachion in chapter 7 hauntingly return, charged with new meaning and defeating expectation. Some phrases in 64–67 reflect those of the earlier adventure, even if there is no explicit reference to the previous exploit. Near Dyrrachion there was “a huge wave from a brisk south wind and troughs in the sea” (λαμπροῦ νότου κῦμα μέγα καὶ κοίλην θάλατταν, 7.4), “a strong southwest wind blowing from the gulf” (τοῦ κόλπου πολὺν ἐκπνεύσαντος λίβα, 7.5), and “a swell running from land to the open sea” (τοῦ κλύδωνος ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς εἰς τὸ πέλαγος διαχεομένου, 7.5). The similar yet diverse phraseology offers a revelation into the care Plutarch took in recomposing the sources into his own linguistic medium, the fullness of language often balancing the brevity of the account. At Actium there is “the open sea churned to waves by a great wind” (μεγάλῳ πνεύματι κυμανθὲν τὸ πέλαγος, 65.1), followed by a fifth day “of windless weather and a sea without breakers” (νηνεμίας καὶ γαλήνης ἀκλύστου, 65.1), then at the sixth hour “a wind rising on the open sea” (πνεύματος αἰρομένου πελαγίου, 65.7). The variability in expression corresponds to the variability of the wind itself.

36

For the sources see also R.T. Ridley, History of Rome. A Documented Analysis (Rome, 1987) 342–344. Plutarch, De fortuna rom. 324b, expands at great length on the metaphor of “the great daimon of Rome” as a steady breeze. The source may be Latin, since the pun (uentusspiritus) is not evident in δαίμων-ἄνεμος, while Plutarch in turn may be influenced by the Roman or Imperial genius (δαίμων) principis. On the passage see Forni, Plutarco. La fortuna dei Romani, 125–126; F. Frazier & C. Froidefond, Plutarque. Œeuvres Morales v. 1 (Paris, 1990) 22, 26.

some aspects of style

253

Another small touch ironically recalls us to the earlier scene near Dyrrachion. There, after the wind had changed, Antony had escaped, and the shore was lined with the wreckage of enemy ships, the hero sailed along σοβαρῶς (“haughtily,” “insolently,” 7.5) surveying the coast. After Actium, it is Eurykles the Lakonian, who in a Liburnian, presses on Antony’s heels σοβαρῶς (67.2), brandishing a spear, but to be frustrated in his mission of vengeance. The high, or baroque, style of the narrative is once again enhanced by Plutarch’s penchant for doubling, often with solemn, grandiose, multi-syllabic phrases. But one also finds an incredible variety which defeats expectation rather than resulting in an artificial or ponderous attempt at balance. Still, on occasions the revelation flashes before us all too clearly that God, or nature, or destiny created Plutarch to see all things with double vision, to describe all things in parallel: “the heights and the greatnesses” (τοῖς ὕψεσι καὶ μεγέθεσι, 65.7), “sluggish and slow-moving” (ἀργὰς καὶ βραδείας, 65.8), “were neither rammings nor smashings” (ἐμβολαὶ μὲν οὐκ ἦσαν οὐδ’ ἀναρρήξεις, 66.1), “hard and rugged” (στερεὰ καὶ τραχέα, 66.1), “shields and spears and pikes and firethrowers” (γέρροις καὶ δόρασι καὶ κοντοῖς … καὶ πυροβόλοις, 66.3), “thrown into confusion and intertwined” (θορυβουμένων … καὶ συμπλεκομένων), “undecided and equal” (ἀκρίτου δὲ καὶ κοινῆς, 66.5), “grown attached and carried along” (συμπεφυκὼς καὶ συμμεταφερόμενος, 66.7), “betraying and running away” (καὶ προδοὺς καὶ ἀποδράς, 66.8), “battling and dying” (μαχομένους καὶ θνῄσκοντας, 66.8), and, finally, “having ruined and ready to ruin more” (ἀπολωλεκυῖαν ἤδη καὶ προσαπολοῦσαν, 66.8). With due respect for the most famous of biographers, even the protagonists appear in parallel: Egyptians and Phoenicians (64.3), Marcus Octavius and Marcus Insteius (65.1), “Caesar” and Agrippa (65.3), Antony’s Canidius and “Caesar’s” Taurus (65.3), Eutychos and his donkey Nikon (65.5), Agrippa and Publicola (66.4), Alexas and Skellios (66.8), and above all, Antony and Kleopatra themselves are the paradigmatic pair, who, as the battle fades from sight and the shadows of even fall, are persuaded “together-to-dine and together-to-lie-down-to-sleep” (συνδειπνεῖν καὶ συγκαθεύδειν, 67.6).37 Besides the elevation of diction, many of the above phrases and others are brilliant in their suggestive onomatopoeia, often employing Plutarch’s beloved full-blown and even parallel participles. In the contrasting expressions μεγάλῳ πνεύματι κυμανθὲν τὸ πέλαγος and νηνεμίας καὶ γαλήνης ἀκλύστου γενομένης, (“the sea turned to surge by a great wind,” and “windlessness and a waveless calm,” 65.1) we sense the surge of the sea followed by calm. In πνεύματος αἰρομένου

37

A very somniferous phrase (– – – – – – ⏑ – – ⏑ – x), with subtle variation in the accents, and with Plutarch’s most favored ending (– ⏑ – x).

254

part 2, chapter 4

πελαγίου δυσανασχετοῦντες … (“with the wind rising from the sea, getting impatient …,” 65.7), we almost feel the waves beginning to roll and the creaking of the rigging. Others can be noted: πρὸς χαλκώματα στερεὰ καὶ τραχέα (“against bronze, hard and rugged,” 66.1); τετραγώνων ξύλων μεγάλων σιδήρῳ συνηρμοσμένων καὶ πρὸς ἄλληλα δεδεμένων … (“of huge square timbers—fastened together with iron and … constrained,” 66.2), with its symbolic sense of immobility;38 θορυβουμένων δὲ τούτων καὶ συμπλεκομένων (“these cast into confusion and being entangled with,” 66.5); συμπεφυκὼς καὶ συμμεταφερόμενος (“having grown attached and being carried along,” 66.7); ἑλκόμενος ὑπὸ τῆς γυναικὸς … (“dragged along by the woman …,” 66.8). The phrase οὔτ’ ἄρχοντος οὔτ ἀνδρὸς οὔθ’ ὅλως ἰδίοις λογισμοῖς διοικούμενον (“neither of a commander, nor of a man, nor even by his own reasoning, directed,” 66.7) simultaneously suggests Antony’s lack of resolution, and the rocking of his vessel in the waves.39 Periodic structure accompanies the grandiloquent phraseology. The Dyrrachion adventure begins with a very long period of 12 lines, in which “Gabinius,” “Antonius,” “Caesar,” and “Libo” succeed one another as subjects (7.3). A 6 line period, centered on Antony, follows (7.4). Next comes the sentence beginning “Suddenly, the bay sending forth a strong southwest wind …” Though otherwise a rather normal period, it commences with the rather startling ἄφνω (“suddenly”), which fits the suddenness of the event and the excitement of the troops (7.5). The first part of the next sentence—or the entire next sentence, depending how one divides these paratactic constructions—is short, and periodic. Finally, Antony’s triumph is structured on the Laconic style of Julius Caesar’s “ueni, uidi, uici”—took prisoners, captured Lissos, inspired “Caesar” (… ἐκράτησεν … εἵλε … παρέσχε …, 7.6).40 But the passage terminates with the high sounding μετὰ τηλικαύτης ἀφικόμενος δυνάμεως (“so great, arriving with a force,” 7.6). Only the very long first sentence and the next longest one reserve the verb for the final position (… ἀνήχθη, 7.3; … οὐδεμίαν ἐλπίδα σωτηρίας εἶχεν, 7.4). The Actium scene, though quite different in conception, is marked by a similar brilliant coordination between sentence structure and action. At 65.7 a short three-word main clause notes the hour. Then, a 3 line periodic main clause follows, describing the wind gradually rising, the impatience of the troops, and their motive for believing victory possible. A non-periodic, but 38 39

40

Using the much more melodic reading of Richards, καί … δεδεμένων, adopted by Pelling. Also, the meter of the clausula ending (– ⏑ – – ⏑ x) is unusual, listed by Sandbach (“Rhythm,” 194) as no. 8 (not in De Groots’s list, but also avoided by Plutarch). It does not, however, end the sentence. Pelling, Life of Antony, 134, notes the effect of the exaggerated paratactic style in καὶ … καὶ … καὶ … καὶ …, while the perils are conveyed in more complex structures.

some aspects of style

255

high-style sentence of 5 lines then depicts “Caesar’s” elation and outlines his ensuing tactics (65.8). Chapter 66 begins with a sentence of about 50 words, counting connectives and the like, full, but non-periodic. The first half, with a long introductory phrase which announces the beginning of the conflict, precedes the main verb. Then proceeding in a rambling manner it explains why ramming was not employed (66.1). A sixteen word non-periodic sentence, beginning with the main verb, then describes the actual damage done to the ships (66.2). Next, are 3 short non-periodic sentences on tactics used (66.3). A periodic sentence of 2 lines depicts Agrippa’s encircling movement and Publicola’s reaction (66.4). The denouement is marked by extreme variety in sentence structure. A very periodic introduction of three and a half lines mirrors the confusion of battle. Immediately after, the sentence snaps in two with “suddenly” (αἰφνίδιον, 66.5)—corresponding to the “suddenly” (ἄφνω) 7.5—Kleopatra’s fleet hoists sail, and we move out of the periodic mode (66.5). Two short non-periodic sentences follow, one to indicate the location of Kleopatra’s ships, the other to depict the astonishment of “Caesar’s” crews as they view the flight of the Egyptians toward the Peloponnesos (66.6).41 The chapter—and the battle— ends with a non-periodic, compound sentence of eleven lines. The first part castigates the indignity of Antony’s conduct. The second—breaking into two balanced parts separated by the conjunction “and”—expands in an abstract way upon the degrading effect of erotic passion, relates in a more detailed manner Antony’s departure in the boat of Alexas and Skellios, and terminates with the famous participles describing the femme fatale. As a general rule, throughout these passages the main verb is located in the middle of a sentence or main clause, and frequently after a full introductory phrase. On occasion (66.2, 3, 5, 8) the main verb comes first, but only twice (65.7, 66.4, 6) receives the final position. Very characteristic is an introductory main clause, with tagon participles or subordinate clauses, often in periodic structure. The periodic element especially occurs as an introduction to a surprising turn in the action. Plutarch also achieves brilliant change of pace in the texture of the account. For example, he balances Antony’s review of his troops, going around in a row41

Plutarch likes to capture the critical moment with a frozen visual tableau (Pelling, Life of Antony, 280). Possibly he was influenced by “expressionist” painting. in this case an actual depiction of Kleopatra’s flight at Actium—like the mosaic at Pompeii of the Battle of Issos; Cf. F. Villard, “Painting,” in J. Charbonneaux, R. Martin, & F. Villard (eds.), Hellenistic art (330–50 bc) (New York, 1973) (= “Peinture,” in J. Charbonneaux, R. Martin, & F. Villard (eds.), Grèce hellénistique, 330–50 av. J.-C., Coll. L’Univers des Formes 18 [Paris, 1970]) 97– 197 (114–118, figs. 115–117).

256

part 2, chapter 4

boat and speaking in indirect discourse, with that on land by Octavius. The mise en scène of each has great symbolic value. Direct discourse is used for “Caesar” and Eutychos the donkey-driver—a surprising change of focalization and level of discourse—with prolepsis anticipating the erection of the statue of Eutychos and his donkey at Actium after the victory. The disposition of the forces is related in rather staccato and paratactic language. Finally, the interior reflections on Antony are in expansive language reminiscent of Plato’s dialogues. Finally, Plutarch sustains the interest of the reader by his intense personalization of the scene as he moves from character to character, even if the guiding thread is the effect on Antony.

4

The Pageantry: Antony’s Debauchery, His Arrival at Ephesos, Kleopatra’s Arrival at Tarsos

Though the seascapes for the battle near Dyrrachion and for the battle at Actium can be imagined as paintings or frescoes, they present themselves more as a series of scenes than as one great painting. In contrast, the depiction of Antony “picnicking” in 9, his arrival at Ephesos in 24, and the arrival of Kleopatra’s barge on the Kydnos near Tarsos in 26 create the impression of single tableaux. The scene at Tarsos actually breaks into the arrival, banquet aboard Kleopatra’s yacht, and the reciprocal banquet on Antony’s; but the initial scene overpowers the others. The picnicking in chapter 9 derives from Cicero’s Philippics, as the author hints, but it is filled with life, movement, and even a bit of sympathy, foreign to the original.42 Dolabella has introduced a law for the abolition of debts. Antony decides to oppose it, but is accused of being motivated by the suspicion that Dolabella was his wife’s lover. Egged on by the Senate, he joins battle with Dolabella in the Forum, which the latter had occupied by force. He thus makes himself “bitterly unpopular among the masses,” while “to respectable and decent citizens he was unacceptable because of his life in general, as Cicero says; in fact, they hated him … disgusted at …” At this point Plutarch uncharacteristically reels off a number of disgusting vices: drunkenness, expenditures, womanizing, sleeping by day and reveling by night, and passing time with mime actors and comics. Antony, while 42

Only, that Antony’s conduct made him hated by decent citizens is attributed to Cicero. However, Pelling, Life of Antony, 137, sees 9.5–9 as a pastiche from several passages in Philippics ii, with Plutarchan exaggerations, for example, the ἐν γάμοις μίμων καὶ γελωτοποιῶν (9.5) probably based solely on Hippias’ wedding (mentioned in 9.6; Philippics 2.63).

some aspects of style

257

conducting business in the Forum, vomits into his toga. The first part of the chapter adheres closely to Cicero and is similar to the weak imitation of it in Dion (45.27–29). But then he impresses his own personality upon the material, describing Antony’s trips out of town (9.7–8): καὶ Κυθηρὶς ἀπὸ τῆς αὐτῆς παλαίστρας γύναιον ἀγαπώμενον, ὃ δὴ καὶ τὰς πόλεις ἐπιὼν ἐν φορείῳ περιήγετο, καὶ τὸ φορεῖον οὐκ ἐλάττους ἢ τὸ τῆς μητρὸς αὐτοῦ περιέποντες ἠκολούθουν. ἐλύπουν δὲ καὶ χρυσῶν ἐκπωμάτων ὥσπερ ἐν πομπαῖς ταῖς ἀποδημίαις διαφερομένων ὄψεις, καὶ στάσεις ἐνόδιοι σκηνῶν καὶ πρὸς ἄλσεσι καὶ ποταμοῖς ἀρίστων πολυτελῶν διαθέσεις, καὶ λέοντες ἅρμασιν ὑπεζευγμένοι, καὶ σωφρόνων ἀνδρῶν καὶ γυναικῶν οἰκίαι χαμαιτύπαις καὶ σαμβυκιστρίαις ἐπισταθμευόμεναι. … and Cytheris, when visiting various towns, he brought her around with him in a litter, which had no fewer lackeys following than his mother’s— from the same “wrestling school”—his beloved playmate. Sorrowed were people by the sight of golden beakers borne about during his excursions from the city as though in sacred processions, of wayside pavilions erected near groves or streams, of expensive repasts in the country, of lions harnessed to chariots, and of respectable men and women’s habitations, for streetwalkers and sambuca girls requisitioned”.43 9.7–8

Plutarch, as frequently in the Lives, then moralizes through the mouth of imagined bystanders. Here they condemn Antony for revelling in luxury and insulting the sensibilities of his fellow-citizens, while “Caesar,” risking his life, was sleeping out under the open skies.44 The section at first sight appears to be an imaginary expansion upon Cicero’s invective, but it is not pure invention.45 Antony actually was the first at Rome to harness lions to a chariot, according to Pliny (nh 8.55). Plutarch might have

43

44

45

Pelling, Life of Antony, 137–138, delightfully analyzes the sentence structure here (9.5–9), with its cumulative effect and the violent and crude climax in χαμαιτύπαις καὶ σαμβυκιστρίαις ἐπισταθμευόμεναι. The mannered effect, which softens the blow, though, suggests a Plutarch more artistic than moralistic. F. Frazier, “À propos de la composition des couples dans les Vies Parallèles de Plutarque,” RPh 61 (1987) 65–75, puts Demetrios-Antonios among Lives of “political conduct” and takes the choice of the pairing as based on the heroes’ luxurious and wanton lifestyle (τρυφή) (72). See Pelling, Life of Antony, 139, for this section.

258

part 2, chapter 4

included the hero’s use of a golden chamberpot (nh 33.50). Probably pure invention, though, are lion excursions through idyllic landscapes. Just as the naval battle near Dyrrachion foreshadows that at Actium, so the processions of chapter 9 prepare us for the entry into Ephesos (24.1–5): Ἐπεὶ δὲ Λεύκιον Κηνσωρῖνον ἐπὶ τῆς Ἑλλάδος καταλιπὼν εἰς Ἀσίαν διέβη καὶ τῶν ἐκεῖ πλούτων ἥψατο, καὶ βασιλεῖς ἐπὶ θύρας ἐφοίτων, καὶ βασιλέων γυναῖκες ἁμιλλώμεναι δωρεαῖς πρὸς ἀλλήλας καὶ κάλλεσιν ἐφθείροντο πρὸς αὐτόν, ἐν Ῥώμῃ δὲ Καίσαρος στάσεσι καὶ πολέμοις ἀποτρυχομένου, πολλὴν αὐτὸς ἄγων σχολὴν καὶ εἰρήνην ἀνεκυκλεῖτο τοῖς πάθεσιν εἰς τὸν συνήθη βίον, Ἀναξήνορες δὲ κιθαρῳδοὶ καὶ Ξοῦθοι χοραῦλαι καὶ Μητρόδωρός τις ὀρχηστὴς καὶ τοιοῦτος ἄλλος Ἀσιανῶν ἀκροαμάτων θίασος, ὑπερβαλλομένων λαμυρίᾳ καὶ βωμολοχίᾳ τὰς ἀπὸ τῆς Ἰταλίας κῆρας, εἰσερρύη καὶ διῴκει τὴν αὐλήν, οὐδὲν ἦν ἀνεκτόν, εἰς ταῦτα φορουμένων ἁπάντων. ἡ γὰρ Ἀσία πᾶσα, καθάπερ ἡ Σοφόκλειος ἐκείνη πόλις, ὁμοῦ μὲν θυμιαμάτων ἔγεμεν, ὁμοῦ δὲ παιάνων τε καὶ στεναγμάτων· εἰς γοῦν Ἔφεσον εἰσιόντος αὐτοῦ, γυναῖκες μὲν εἰς Βάκχας, ἄνδρες δὲ καὶ παῖδες εἰς Σατύρους καὶ Πᾶνας ἡγοῦντο διεσκευασμένοι, κιττοῦ δὲ καὶ θύρσων καὶ ψαλτηρίων καὶ συρίγγων καὶ αὐλῶν ἡ πόλις ἦν πλέα, Διόνυσον αὐτὸν ἀνακαλουμένων Χαριδότην καὶ Μειλίχιον. ἦν γὰρ ἀμέλει τοιοῦτος ἐνίοις, τοῖς δὲ πολλοῖς Ὠμηστὴς καὶ Ἀγριώνιος. After leaving Lucius Censorinus in charge of Greece, he crossed into Asia and laid hands on the riches there. Kings stood at his portals and the wives of kings competing against one another with their gifts and charms were corrupted by him. While at Rome “Caesar” in civil strife and foreign wars was exhausting himself, Antony himself with all the peace and leisure in the world was spun back by his passions into his customary mode of life. With Anaxenores for citharists, Xouthoses for flautists, one Metrodoros a dancer, and of Asiatic noise-makers, a comparable thiasos surpassing in impudence and effrontery the spooks from Italy, flooded and took over his court. In no way was the situation bearable; everything was being carried off for such extravagances.46 For all of Asia, like the famous Sophoclean city, was filled alike with burning incense, alike too with paeans and lamentations.47 At any rate, into Ephesos when he came, women as Bacchai, men and boys as Satyrs and Pans arrayed led the way; and of ivy and 46

47

Possibly φορουμένων ἁπάντων (24.2) means “all this tribute was being collected,” but the normal word for collecting tribute is φορολογέω. Festugière gives it a personal meaning: “tout le monde se laissant porter de ce côté” (120). Oidipous Tyrannos, 4–5.

some aspects of style

259

thyrsoi and harps and pipes the city was full, Dionysos, the people calling him, Joy-Giver and Beneficent. For he was such undoubtedly to some, but to most, the Carnivorous and Savage. The scene uses a similar frame of reference to the excursions out of Rome earlier in the Life but is related in a more elevated style corresponding to the magnitude of the event.48 First, items from the hostile tradition are checked off: excess in food and drink, his association with the scum of the earth, the exploitation of honest citizens. Then, in Plutarch’s generally charitable manner, the redeeming qualities of the hero are discussed. In the earlier chapter the catalogue of his vices was followed by the narration of his reform under the firm auspices of Julius Caesar and of Antony’s new wife, Fulvia. This scheme is followed in 24. The change in tone between chapters 9 and 24 is something like that from Vergil’s Eclogues to the Aeneid, nor is it altogether impossible that the shades of Dido and Aeneas have fallen over Plutarch’s landscapes. At any rate, sylvan spreads by the groves and streams of the Roman Campania or Arcadian Italy, which Antony shared with a companion obscure to history and of low rank, give way to the cities of Greece, Asia, Italy, kings and the wives of kings. The nameless actors and musicians of chapter 9 are replaced with famous, or infamous, performers. The passage is graced with a citation from tragedy, taken from the opening lines of the Oidipous Tyrannos, and, granted, these may have been learned on school benches, they still resonate with a solemn, religious tone.49 Moreover, at Ephesos Antony is described in terms of the explicitly Dionysiac thiasos, which characterized the official iconography and ideology of

48

49

The reasons for complaint all depend on the initial ἐπεί, in an intricate and balanced period, but are separated into four groups of increasing length and color; the solemn quotation from Sophokles changes the tone, moving the theme to divine honors—a statement expressed in a strong balanced period—next come the outrages in sharp, simple sentences, then direct discourse (the complaint of Hybreas), and, finally, a thoughtful analysis employing heavier structure and style (Pelling, Life of Antony, 176–177). P. Carrara, “Plutarco ed Euripide,” 447–455, paints a none too rosy picture of Plutarch’s use of citations. According to Carrara, Plutarch had a vast literary education, often reveals direct knowledge of an original text, and is acquainted with citations not found elsewhere in extant literature. However, most are loci communes cited in other authors and in anthologies (447). He concludes that Plutarch often used collections or intermediate authors, particularly where Stoic παραδιόρθωσις (the use of texts for moral purposes, with some alteration to fit the sense) is at stake, and that one must always take into consideration the nature of the work and the context of the citation (454–455).

260

part 2, chapter 4

Hellenistic, and in particular, Ptolemaic rulers. Though the hostile sources possibly intended to describe the derogatory “rabble,” by the term thiasos, we begin to see Hellenism not through Roman eyes but through the Greek eyes of the defensive Plutarch. True, Antony is Dionysos the “Carnivorous and Savage.” But Plutarch relates, in the charmingly deconstructive manner which is so frequent in his writings, benevolent tales about his hero, forgives him for his “aloof management style,” and praises his repentance for the errors made through naiveté.50 Except for the names of the musical performers and the capital of Asia, the scene is as unspecific as the “processions” in chapter 9. The thiasos contains the motifs of the endlessly repeated Dionysiac entourage found in painting, mosaics, silverwork, and ultimately the Roman sarcophagi. Though there are no allusions to Alexander, the scene recalls the Dionysiac thiasos which was modelled on the Indian triumph of Alexander, but without panthers, elephants, and centaurs. The description of Antony’s lion-rides in chapter 9 may have been intended through suggestive association to contribute to the effect of his arrival at Ephesos. From the very beginning of the passage there is an elevation of tone contrasting with the earlier passage in chapter 9. The structure of the earlier scene in 9 was relatively modest. Phrases are balanced, while, as so frequent in Plutarch, qualifying or descriptive participles abundantly tumble upon one another after main verbs following an introductory phrase. The non-periodic structure of the scene in 9 is striking, in particular the initial position of the main verb: λέγεται γοῦν (9.6), ἦν δὲ καὶ Σέργιος (9.7), ἐλύπουν δέ (9.8); δεινὸν γὰρ ἐποιοῦντο (9.9). The entry into Ephesos, instead, and contrary to Plutarch’s normal process of piling up participles, begins with an enormous introductory clause.51 Like a legal

50

51

On deconstruction, see T.G. Rosenmeyer, Deina ta polla. A Classicist’s Checklist of Twenty Literary-Critical Position (Buffalo, 1988) 34–37; J. Culler, On Deconstruction (Ithaca, 1985); P. De Man, Blindness and Insight. Essays in the Rhetoric of Contemporary Criticism (New York, 1971); and the delightful summary in R. Alter, “Deconstruction in America,” New Republic (April 25, 1983) 27–31. Deconstructionist elements particularly are at stake in the appearances of Kleopatra, both within and without Plutarch, as in Horatius, Odes 1.37, where—intentionally or unintentionally—the similes put her in a sympathetic light; cf., for example, A.T. Davis, “Cleopatra Rediviva,” g&r 16 (1969) 91–93. For interpretations since Davis, see M. Margolies De Forest, “The Central Similes of Horace’s Cleopatra Ode,” cw 82 (1989) 167–173; G. Mader, “Heroism and Hallucination: Cleopatra in Horace c. 1.37 and Propertius 3. 11,” Grazer Beiträge 16 (1989) 183–201, esp. 187–190, 197. Something like ἔπειτα δέ would have given a more natural opening, but the grammar, logic, and suspense of οὐδὲν ἦν ἀνεκτόν would suffer.

some aspects of style

261

document or a decree, it unwinds with a subordinate clause, here introduced by “after” (ἐπεί 24.1). Squeezed within the opening part of the clause is a participial introduction: “after, leaving behind Lucius Censorinus …” Seven verbs follow the “after” introduction, and three participles which seem barely to have escaped being verbs (καταλιπών, ἁμιλλώμεναι, ἀποτρυχομένου, 24.1). Of the three following sentences, the first, though straightforward, reserves the verb for the end. The second neatly positions the verb in the center, and the last begins with the verb. Twinning is still present, as the inevitable monster of parallelism rears its double head: Greece and Asia, kings and wives of kings, gifts and charms, “Caesar” and Antony, civil strife and wars, leisure and peace, lute players and flute players, Anaxenores and Xouthoi, paeans and lamentations, women and men, Satyrs and Pans, ivy and thyrsoi, some and others, not to mention the double parallelism of “Giver of Joy and Beneficent,” “Carnivorous and Savage.” The participles, though not used en masse, are sufficiently grandiloquent to make their presence felt: ἁμιλλώμεναι, ἀποτρυχομένου, ὑπερβαλλομένων, φορουμένων, διεσκευασμένοι, ἀνακαλουμένων (24.1–4). The description of Kleopatra’s arrival on the Kydnos, near Tarsos in Cilicia, is another magnificent tableau. As Antony’s thiasos evokes the Dionysos of the visual arts, so its pendant, Kleopatra’s arrival at Tarsos, suggests a Hellenistic fresco of the arrival of Aphrodite (26.1–5): Πολλὰ δὲ καὶ παρ’ αὐτοῦ καὶ παρὰ τῶν φίλων δεχομένη γράμματα καλούντων, οὕτως κατεφρόνησε καὶ κατεγέλασε τοῦ ἀνδρός, ὥστε πλεῖν ἀνὰ τὸν Κύδνον ποταμὸν ἐν πορθμείῳ χρυσοπρύμνῳ, τῶν μὲν ἱστίων ἁλουργῶν ἐκπεπετασμένων, τῆς δ’ εἰρεσίας ἀργυραῖς κώπαις ἀναφερομένης πρὸς αὐλὸν ἅμα σύριγξι καὶ κιθάραις συνηρμοσμένον. αὐτὴ δὲ κατέκειτο μὲν ὑπὸ σκιάδι χρυσοπάστῳ, κεκοσμημένη γραφικῶς ὥσπερ Ἀφροδίτη, παῖδες δὲ τοῖς γραφικοῖς Ἔρωσιν εἰκασμένοι παρ’ ἑκάτερον ἑστῶτες ἐρρίπιζον. ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ θεραπαινίδες αἱ καλλιστεύουσαι Νηρηίδων ἔχουσαι καὶ Χαρίτων στολάς, αἱ μὲν πρὸς οἴαξιν, αἱ δὲ πρὸς κάλοις ἦσαν. ὀδμαὶ δὲ θαυμασταὶ τὰς ὄχθας ἀπὸ θυμιαμάτων πολλῶν κατεῖχον. τῶν δ’ ἀνθρώπων οἱ μὲν εὐθὺς ἀπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ παρωμάρτουν ἑκατέρωθεν, οἱ δ’ ἀπὸ τῆς πόλεως κατέβαινον ἐπὶ τὴν θέαν. ἐκχεομένου δὲ τοῦ κατὰ τὴν ἀγορὰν ὄχλου, τέλος αὐτὸς ὁ Ἀντώνιος ἐπὶ βήματος καθεζόμενος ἀπελείφθη μόνος. καί τις λόγος ἐχώρει διὰ πάντων, ὡς ἡ Ἀφροδίτη κωμάζοι πρὸς τὸν Διόνυσον ἐπ’ ἀγαθῷ τῆς Ἀσίας. Having received many letters of summons, either from him personally or through his friends, she showed so little esteem and so ridiculed the man as to sail up the Kydnos river in a barge with a golden prow, its purple

262

part 2, chapter 4

sails billowing in the wind, while the stroking of the rowing of silver oars kept time to a flute, in harmony with pipes and lutes. She herself reclined beneath a gold-spangled canopy, attired as in a painting like Aphrodite, while boys resembling painted Erotes, standing on either side, fanned her. Likewise, her serving maids, in the flower of beauty, wearing the robes of Nereids and the Graces, some at the steering oars, others at the reefing ropes took their station. Wonderful fragrances from many incense burners filled the riverbanks. Of the bystanders, some followed on either side of the river, others issued from the city to behold the sight. But when the crowd in the agora had poured out, in the end, seated upon the tribunal, Antonius was left to himself. A certain rumor spread abroad, moreover, that Aphrodite was entering the revel along with Dionysos, for the good of Asia.52 The scene is characterized by conceptual simplicity, much like the entry into Ephesos, the naval battle near Dyrrachion, or even the Battle of Actium. Plutarch’s restraint is noteworthy, and the ability to leave the reader thirsting for more rather than surfeited with excess may have contributed to his biographical success. Here one might compare him with a contemporary, Petronius, who in the Satyricon overwhelms the reader with detailed minutiae. The generalizing simplicity of presentation, besides rendering the narration more comprehensible, casts the experience in universal and familiar terms. Though quite a number of details appear in the Kydnos scene, they are rather general and related briefly. For example Plutarch dispenses with Kleopatra’s banquet which follows that of Antony, “a spread beyond words to describe,” in only 10 lines. In contrast, 22 lines survive of Sokrates of Rhodes’ description of the banquet. With little subtlety he enumerates the extravagant preparations of Kleopatra followed by the resulting stupor of Antony and his men. Sokrates achieves this effect through the uninspired and Petronian like piling on of externals: gold, jewels, tapestries, Ethiopian boys carrying torches, horses with silver harnesses, roses of priceless quantity. For Plutarch, however, the banquet is only one card in the intensely psychological atmosphere of “games people play.” The Egyptian queen pits her ploys against the blustering Roman, more Mars than Dionysos, with the eventual triumph of the queen, modestly endowed with physical beauty according to the generous Plutarch, but according to the coins,

52

See Pelling, Life of Antony, 186–187, for the suggestive rhythms, languorous words, and change of pace in this scene.

some aspects of style

263

of modest looks if not slightly ugly.53 The complexity and length of Petronius’ Cena Trimalchionis, written probably a generation before the Antonios, immediately comes to mind. The Kydnos scene is a mixture of rather universal visual and audial effects. Nothing is very explicit except the names of the river, of Kleopatra, and of Antony, who inject themselves into an otherwise mythological scene. Twice, in fact, Plutarch invites the reader to imagine a painting, though his exact words refer only to the attire of Kleopatra and the boys masquerading as Erotes. Plutarch may be teasing the reader. He really plays on all the senses: a view of the river and the agora, the odor of perfume, the beating of the oars and the symphony of the musical instruments. Nor is the scene static. Usually one painting does not convey a sequence. Plutarch here actually presents two focal points difficult to join in one painting. In one, Kleopatra-Aphrodite sails up the river followed by a growing crowd of admirers. In the other, Antony, sitting in the agora is abandoned by the dwindling crowd. An ingenious painter could represent the scene in higher and lower registers or on opposite sides of a large canvas or fresco. Metatextually this scene was prepared for by a previous tableau, that of the funeral cortege at the end of Demetrios. Here too Plutarch balanced visual and audial effects. Xenophantos plays the flute, while the oars of the rowers on the funeral vessel seem to harmonize with the melody. Much artistry is devoted naturally to the specific sounds of the funeral dirge in Demetrios, but great similarities still exist (53.5):

53

Most of the description concerns the spectacular illumination at the banquet. Pelling, Life of Antony, 190, notes a similarity with Vergil’s Aeneid 1.726–727. Perhaps the Aeneid banquet was influenced by the Alexandrian ones, and Plutarch should have known about the Aeneid. Suetonius (Nero 31) does not mention light effects in his description of the Domus Aurea, though they might be involved in the dining room (i.e., in the circular ceiling which revolved like the heavens). Similarly, Petronius, Satyricon (60) has nothing about light effects in the Cena. Pelling, Life of Antony, 189, mentions the account of Kleopatra’s dinners at Tarsos in Sokrates of Rhodes (FGrHist 192, Fr. 1 [Jacoby, ii, b, 927, commentary ii, c, 621]). H. Gärtner, “Sokrates. 3,” in K. Ziegler, W. Sontheimer, H. Gärtner (eds.), Der kleine Pauly. Lexikon der Antike v (Munich, 1975) 255, would put him in the 1st cent. bc. That Plutarch uses a psychological approach, in contrast to the phenomenological one of Sokrates, was suggested by Professor Pelling. [en: F.B. Titchener, “Everything to do with Dionysus: Banquets in Plutarch’s Lives,” in Montes et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el vino, 491–499.]

264

part 2, chapter 4

… προσηύλει τῶν μελῶν τὸ ἱερώτατον· καὶ πρὸς τοῦτο τῆς εἰρεσίας ἀναφερομένης μετὰ ῥυθμοῦ τινος, ἀπήντα ψόφος ὥσπερ ἐν κοπετῷ ταῖς τῶν αὐλημάτων περιόδοις. … played along with the flute, of melodies, the most sacred. And to this music, the measured rowing of the oars responded, like the beating of the breast, to the cadences of the flute. … τῆς δ’ εἰρεσίας ἀργυραῖς κώπαις ἀναφερομένης πρὸς αὐλὸν ἅμα σύριγξι καὶ κιθάραις συνηρμοσμένον. … while the revolutions of the rowing of silver oars kept time to a flute, in harmony with pipes and lutes.54 Antonios, 26.1

The Kydnos scene is not only one of splendor, opulence, and joy, but also, because of its relationship to the Demetrios, is disturbingly ambiguous. Perhaps the reader would not be expected to recall the Demetrios passage, but closing the Life on such a grand scale, it is really quite unforgettable. Thus, the recollection of oars striking the water in response to a tune might evoke the last voyage by water of Demetrios. Just as the assimilation of Antony to Dionysos is not all joy and merriment, but a mixture of gaiety and savagery (Carnivorous, Savage), the aspects we find in the Dionysos of Euripides’ Bacchai. So Kleopatra’s arrival at Kydnos, in terms of intertextuality, is not simply that of the life-bringing Aphrodite. But even without reference to intertextuality, the gilded prow, purple sails, canopy gold-spangled, flute, and incense, suggest the decadence later associated with the death-haunted revelry and banquets at Alexandria. Kleopatra here, who seems to rise mysteriously out of the sea like Aphrodite, becomes in fact the destructive Aphrodite of Euripides’ Hippolytos, the τελευταῖον κακόν announced at the beginning of chapter 25. Still, the scene follows the same pattern as Antony’s arrival in Ephesos. Moral condemnation of vice is succeeded by an indulgence and sympathy which relate the intriguing details of semiprivate life: charm compensating for beauty, the persuasion and stimulation of her multi-lingual conversation, and the sweetness of her voice. The gentle pen of Plutarch fashions her more into a humanly ambiguous though understandable Circe than an overtly monstrous and destructive Scylla.

54

There is some correspondence, either in sound or sense between κοπετῷ—κώπαις, and μετὰ ῥυθμοῦ τινος—συνηρμοσμένον.

some aspects of style

265

It should be overwhelmingly clear, then, that Plutarch’s style, though belonging to his period, is a very personal one, and in its own way, brilliant. In particular one is struck by its fullness—with an ever-flowing stream of participles and never-failing parallelism—its loose periodicity, its sense of movement, yet ability to catch the dramatic moment, its variety, and finally its intense focalization on his characters, as he probes ever deeper into the inner haunts of their souls. There is a rich, baroque quality to the style, much like that of the corpus of the Lives themselves, with its loose structure (or apparent lack of it). Rather than being a self-contained logical unit, consisting of a clear beginning, middle, and end, the Lives seem capable of endless expansion and enrichment. So too the style. This open-endedness and resistance to simple comprehension evokes the mystery of life itself, which at least in Platonic terms, is not reducible to simple rational formulation, nor necessarily confined to one chronological period, nor limited to this world alone, but enjoys almost limitless horizons. Perhaps, especially in these days, the waters of Pseudo-Longinos’ Rhine and Danube are not to be preferred to Kallimachos’ holy spring, but fluvial majesty is not to be scorned, nor prose “flowing like a river, a great and powerful river.”55 The Parallel Lives can be compared to a symphony. In them two main streams, a Roman and a Greek melody or tonality, alternate back and forth, with special interplay in the synkriseis. On occasions the Roman tonality echoes the Greek. Motifs and themes are picked up from one Life to the next. On occasion a Greek is in the Roman sphere of influence, but more often a Roman is in the Greek world. If the Antonios is the final Life, then more than elsewhere the Roman merges into the background of the Greek lands traversed by Alexander the Great and his epigonoi. Not surprisingly, then, we find a crescendo of lament at the end for Antony, but also for the last shadow of Greek supremacy represented in Alexandria as it too finally succumbs to Roman power. There follows the long genealogy of Antony—or the Nerogonia—ending with the birth and career of the Emperor bringing the Lives to Plutarch’s own times. A fitting coda to a great enterprise spanning so much of Greek and Roman culture. The sharp division between Lives and Moralia may be a modern categorization. Possibly in Plutarch’s own mind the Lives formed an integral part of his entire philosophy. They are in a sense case studies, not of morality in a narrow sense, but in the larger context of achieving one’s eschatological destiny, an expansion on the choice of lives in Plato’s myth of Er. In this sense most or all of his heroes are examples of misguided human ambition,56 swept along in the Heraclitan 55 56

Longinos, On the Sublime, 35.4; cf. Russel, Classicizing Rhetoric, 115. [en: H.P. Liebert, Between City and Empire: Political Ambition and Political Form in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives (Diss. University of Chicago, 2009).]

266

part 2, chapter 4

flux of phenomena, as described in De E, rather than growing wings and soaring upward into the intelligible sphere of their telos, the Platonic Good. Antony was an excellent subject, not because he was so evil, but rather because, subject to passion and struggling against forces beyond his comprehension or control, he was so much like us.57 57

Gratitude is due in particular to Professor C.B.R. Pelling, University College, Oxford, who looked over the entire text, and offered a great number of corrections and suggestions. Professor Katherine A. Geffcken of Wellesley College read over the first section; Professor Jean Davison of the University of Vermont, the second; Professor Jean-Louis Ska of the Pontifical Biblical Institute, Professor William S. Kurz of Marquette University, Mary Hopkins looked over the third section; and Professor Charles L. Babcock of Ohio State University and the American Academy, Rome, the fourth. All caught many errors and made many helpful suggestions. Professor Winfried Bühler of the University of Hamburg looked over an early draft of the last section, making many excellent points. Professor Ronald Mellor of the University of California at Los Angeles read the proofs of the first and second sections, Dr. Patricia de Martino, the third section; Professor Steven Lowenstam of the University of Oregon, the last; and Timothy Duff of the University of Cambridge the second proofs. Hopefully they will not disagree with all the views expressed in the article and having been called upon, on brief notice, to sacrifice their time will continue to remain friends. Thanks are also due to the American Academy, the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, and the École Française, for the use of their libraries in Rome, and to Marquette University, and to the University of Cambridge, for the use of their libraries.

Bibliography Aalders, G.J.D., Plutarch’s Political Thought (Amsterdam, 1982). Abel, K., “Seneca. Leben und Leistung,” anrw ii.32.2 (1985) 653–775. Abernetty, G., De Plutarchi qui fertur De superstitione libello (Regensburg, 1911). Achleitner, H., “Polybios’ Philopoimen-Biographie als Quelle für Livius,” Hermes 110 (1982) 499–502. Adam, H., Plutarchs Schrift Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum (Amsterdam, 1974). Addey, C., “The Daimonion of Socrates: Daimones and Divination in Neoplatonism,” in D.A. Layne & H. Tarrant (eds.), The Neoplatonic Socrates. Papers Exploring the Portrait of Socrates Developed by the Platonists in the First Six Cents. a.d. (Philadelphia, Pa: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014) 51–72. Aguilar Fernández, R.M., La noción del alma personal en Plutarco (Madrid, 1981). Aguilar Fernández, R.M., “La valía de las mujeres en Plutarco,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 9–17. Alexiou, M., The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition (Cambridge, 1974). Alexiou, E., “On ἀπάθεια in Plutarch’s Lives,” in M. von Baumbach, H. Köhler, & A. Martin Ritter (eds.), Mousopolos Stephanos: Festschrift für Herwig Görgemanns (Bibliothek der klassischen Altertumswissenschaften. Neue Folge. 2. Reihe 102; Heidelberg: Winter, 1998) 380–389. Alexiou, E., “Parallelität und die moralischen Ziele Plutarchs: Coriolanus und Alkibiades,” Hermes 127 (1999) 61–74. Alexiou, E., “Plutarchs Lysander und Alkibiades als Syzygie: ein Beitrag zum moralischen Programm Plutarchs,” RhM 153(3–4) (2010) 323–352. Allen, J., “Greek Philosophy and Signs,” in Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation of Signs, 29–42. Almagor, E., “The King’s daimon (Plut. Art. 15.7) Reconsidered,” in Van der Stockt et al. (ed.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 31–40. Almagor, E., “Hold your Horses: Characterization through Animals in Plutarch’s Artaxerxes 1,” Ploutarchos 7 (2009–2010) 3–21. Almagor, E., “Hold your Horses: Characterization through Animals in Plutarch’s Artaxerxes 2,” Ploutarchos 11 (2014) 3–18. Aloni, A., “Ricerche sulla forma letteraria del De genio Socratis di Plutarco,” Acme 33 (1980) 41–112. Aloni, A. & Guidorizzi, G., Il demone di Socrate, I ritardi della punizione divina (De Genio Socratis, De sera numinis vindicta) (Milan, 1982). Alter, R., “Deconstruction in America,” New Republic (April 25, 1983) 27–31. Alvar Ezquerra, J., “Isis y Osiris Daímones: (Plut., De Iside 360D)” in C.G. Wagner,

268

bibliography

J. Alvar Ezquerra, & Blánquez Pérez, C. (eds.), Héroes, semidioses y daimones: primer encuentro-coloquio de arys, Jarandilla de la Vera, diciembre de 1989 (Madrid, 1992) 245–263. Anagnostou-Laoutides, A., & Charles, M.B., “Galba in the Bedroom: Sexual Allusions in Suetonius’ Galba,” Latomus 71 (2012) 1077–1087. Anderson, G., Ancient Fiction. The Novel in the Graeco-Roman World (London, 1984). Andrei, O. & Scuderi, R., Plutarco. Demetrio. Antonio (with an introduction by B. Scardigli and M. Manfredini) (Milan, 1989). Annas, J., An Introduction to Plato’s Republic (Oxford, 1981). Annus, A., Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World (Chicago, 2010). Anson, E.M., “The Battle of Gabene: Eumenes’ Inescapable Doom?,” in V.A. Troncoso & Anson, E.M. (eds.), After Alexander: The Time of the Diadochi (323–281bc) (Oakville, 2013) 99–109. Arnim, H. von, Plutarch über Dämonen und Mantik (Amsterdam, 1921). Aronadio, F., “Tracce di una polemica fra Accademici e Stoici: [Platone] Demodoc. 382e–384b e Plut., De Stoic. Rep. 1034e,” in W. Lapini et al. (eds.), Gli antichi e noi: scritti in onore di Antonio Mario Battegazzore (Genoa: Brigati 2009) 225–237. Arrowsmith, W., “Luxury and Death in the Satyricon,” Arion 5 (1966) 304–331. Asirvatham, S.R., “Olympias’ Snake and Callisthenes’ Stand: Religion and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Alexander,” in S.R. Asirvatham, C. Ondine Pache, & J. Watrous (eds.), Between magic and religion: interdisciplinary studies in ancient Mediterranean religion and society (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield 2001) 93–125. Aubriot-Sévin, D., “Quelques Observations sur la religion d’Alexandre (par Rapport à la tradition classique) à partir de Plutarque (La Vie d’Alexandre) et d’Arrien (L’Anabase d’Alexandre),” Métis 1 (2003) 225–249. Aune, D.E., “De esu carnium orationes i and ii (Moralia 993a–999b),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 301–316. Babut, D., “La doctrine démonologique dans le De genio Socratis de Plutarque: cohérence et fonction,” L’Inform. Lit. 35 (1983) 201–205. Babut, D., “La part du rationalisme dans la religion de Plutarque: l’exemple du De genio Socratis,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 383–408. Babut, D., Plutarque et le stoïcisme (Paris, 1969). Babut, D., “‘Ἱστορία οἷον ὕλη φιλοσοφίας:’ Unité et diversité dans l’œuvre de Plutarque: à propos d’une édition récente de quatre traités des Moralia,” Rev. Phil. 55 (1981) 319– 324. Badian, E., “The Early Historians,” in T.A. Dorey (ed.), Latin Historians (London, 1966) 1–38. Baldassari, M., “Categorie medioplatoniche negli opuscoli antistoici di Plutarco?,” AGLComo (1929–1974) (1981) 83–99.

bibliography

269

Baltes, M., Die Weltentstehung des platonischen Timaios nach den antiken Interpreten. i (Leiden, 1976). Baltes, M., Timaios Lokros, Über die Natur des Kosmos und der Seele (Leiden, 1972). Baltes, M., “Der Niedergang Des Delphischen Orakels: Delphis Oracula Cessant,” in J. Gebauer et al. (eds.), Bildergeschichte: Festschrift Klaus Stähler (Bildergeschichte, Bibliopolis [Möhnesee], 2004) 1–15. Banta, J.L., “Who gives a fig (tree a name)?: Chronotopic Conflicts in Plutarch’s Romulus,” Intertexts 11 (2007) 25–41. Barat, C., “Miracles et apparitions: les statues voyageuses de Sinope et leur significationpolitique,” in G. Hoffmann & A. Gailliot (eds.), Rituels et transgressions de l’Antiquité à nos jours: actes du colloque (Amiens, 23–25 janvier 2008) (Amiens: Encrage, 2009) 211–222. Barigazzi, A., “Plutarco e il corso futuro della storia,” Prometheus 10 (1984) 264–286. Barigazzi, A., “Una nuova interpretazione del De genio Socratis,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 409–425. Barigazzi, A., “Plutarco e il dialogo ‘dramatico’,” Prometheus 14 (1988) 141–163. Barigazzi, A., Plutarco, Contro Epicuro (Florence, 1978). Barigazzi, A., Plutarco, Se la virtù si debba insegnare, La fortuna, Se la virtù si possa insegnare, Se siano più gravi le malattie dell’animo o del corpo, Se il vizio sia sufficiente a rendere infelici, La virtù e il vizio (Ascoli Piceno, 1993). Barrett, W.S., Euripides. Hippolytos (Oxford, 1964). Barrow, R.H., Plutarch and his Times (London, 1967). Barthelmess, J., “Recent Work on the Moralia,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 61–83. Barthes, R., s/z (New York, 1974) (= idem, s/z [Paris, 1970]). Barthes, R., The Semiotic Challenge (New York, 1988) (= idem, L’aventure Sémiologique [Paris, 1985]). Barthes, R., Booth, W.C., Hamon, P. & Kayser, W., Poétique du récit (Paris, 1977). Bayet, J., “Le suicide mutuel dans la mentalité des romains,” L’Année Sociologique 38 (1951) 35–89. Bayet, J., Croyance et rites dans la Rome antique (Paris, 1971). Beardslee, W.A., “De facie quae in orbe lunae apparet (Moralia 920a–945d),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 286–300. Beaujeu, J., “La religion de Plutarque,” L’Inform. Lit. 11 (1959) 207–213. Becchi, F., “Contributo allo studio del De virtute di Plutarco,” Stud. It. 46 (1974) 129–147. Becchi, F., “Aristotelismo ed antistoicismo nel De virtute morali di Plutarco,”Prometheus 1 (1975) 160–180. Becchi, F., “Platonismo medio ed etica plutarchea,” Prometheus 7 (1981) 125–145, 263– 284. Becchi, F., Plutarco, La virtù etica (Naples, 1990).

270

bibliography

Becchi, F., “Plutarco e la dottrina dell’Ὁμοίωσις Θεῷ tra Platonismo ed Aristotelismo,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione, 321–335. Becchi, F., “La nozione di τύχη in Plutarco: una variabile secondo il genere?,” in I. Gallo & C. Moreschini (eds.), I generi letterari in Plutarco, Atti del viii Convegno plutarcheo (Pisa, 2–4 giugno 1999) (Naples, 2000) 299–317. Becchi, F., “Virtù e fortuna nelle Vitae e nei Moralia di Plutarco,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 39–52. Becchi, F., “L’écrit de Plutarque sur la Fortune: histoire d’une interprétation,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 47–56. Becchi, F., Plutarco, La fortuna (Naples, 2010). Becher, I., “Augustus und Dionysos—ein Feindverhältnis?,” Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 103 (1976) 88–101. Beck, W., Mythopoiie des Plutarch (Diss. Heidelberg, 1953). Beck, M.A., Plutarch’s use of Anecdotes in the Lives (Diss. University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1998). Beck, M.A., “Plato, Plutarch, and the use and Manipulation of Anecdotes in the Lives of Lycurgus and Agesilaus: History of the Laconic Apophthegm,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 173–187. Beck, M.A., “The Story of Damon and the Ideology of Euergetism in the Lives of Cimon and Lucullus,” Hermathena 182 (2007) 53–69. Bélis, A., “Néron musicien,” crai (1989) 747–763. Beneker, J., The Theme of Erotic Love in Plutarch’s Late-Republican Lives (s. l., 2003). Beneker, J., “Thematic Correspondences in Plutarch’s Lives of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 315–325. Beneker, J., The Passionate Statesman: Eros and Politics in Plutarch’s Lives (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2012). Beneker, J., “Asêmotatos or autokratôr? Obscurity and glory in Plutarch’s Sertorius,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 103–119. Benjamin, A., “Time and Interpretation in Heraclitus,” in A. Benjamin (ed.), Post Structuralist Classics (London and New York, 1988) 106–131. Benveniste, M., “Un mythe zervanite chez Plutarque,” ja 215 (1929) 287–296. Benveniste, M., The Persian Religion According to the Greek Texts (Paris, 1929). Bérard, C. & Bron, C., “Bacchos au coeur de la cite: Le thiase dionysiaque dans l’espace politique,” in L’association dionysiaque dans les sociétés anciennes (Collection de l’École Française de Rome 89; Paris, 1986) 13–30. Bernard, J.-E., “Historia magistra mortis: Tite-Live, Plutarque et la fin de Marcellus,” in P. Defosse (ed.), Hommages à Carl Deroux. 2: Prose et linguistique, médecine (Collection Latomus 267; Bruxelles: Latomus 2002) 30–39. Bernhard, M.-L., “Topographie d’Alexandrie: Le Tombeau d’Alexandre et le Mausolée d’Auguste,” ra 47 (1956) 129–156.

bibliography

271

Bett, R., “Did the Stoics Invent Human Rights?,” in R. Kamtekar (ed.), Virtue and Happiness: Essays in Honour of Julia Annas (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2012) 149–169. Bettini, M., Antropologia e cultura romana. Parentela, tempo, immagini dell’anima (Rome, 1986). Betz, H.D. (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden, 1978). Betz, H.D. (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden, 1975). Betz, H.D., “De tranquillitate animi (Moralia 464e–477f),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings, 198–230. Betz, H.D., “Fragmenta 21–23, 157–158, 176–178,” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 317–324. Betz, H.D., “Credibility and Credulity in Plutarch’s Life of Numa Pompilius,” in idem, Gesammelte Aufsätze. 5: Paulinische Theologie und Religionsgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 191–207. Betz, H.D., “Plutarch’s Life of Numa: Some Observations on Graeco-Roman ‘messianism’,” idem, Gesammelte Aufsätze, 166–190. Betz, H.D., & Smith, E.W., “De Iside et Osiride (Moralia 351c–384c),” in Betz (ed.) Plutarch’s Ethical Writings, 36–84. Betz, H.D., & Smith, E.W., “De e apud Delphos (Moralia 384c–394c),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 85–102. Betz, H.D., & Smith, E.W., “Plutarch, De e apud Delphos,” Nov. Test. 13 (1971) 217–235. Betz, H.D., Dirkse, P.A., & Smith, E.W., “De sera numinis vindicta (Moralia 548a–568a),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 181–235. Bianchi, U., “Plutarco e il dualismo,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.) Miscellanea plutarchea, 111– 120. Bicknell, P.J., “Caesar, Antony, Cleopatra and Cyprus,” Latomus 37 (1977) 324–342. Bieber, M., “The Development of Portraiture on Roman Republican Coins,” anrw i.4 (1973) 871–898. Bierens de Haan, J.D., Plutarchus als godsdienstig Denker (The Hague, 1902). Boake, J.W., Plutarch’s Historical Judgment with Special Reference to the De Herodoti malignitate (Diss., Univ. of Toronto, 1975). Boeri, M.D., “The Stoics on Bodies and Incorporeals,” The Review of Metaphysics: a Philosophical Quarterly 54 (2001) 723–752. Böhme, M., “Plutarch und Die Attische Demokratie,” in V.V. Dementeva, & T. Schmitt (eds.), unter Mitarb. von Moritz Böhme & Claudia Horst, Beiträge zu einem von den Universitäten Bremen und Jaroslawl organisierten Kongress in Jaroslawl 2007 (Göttingen: Ruprecht, 2010) 149–158. Boffo, L., I re ellenistici e i centri religiosi dell’Asia Minore (Pubblicazioni della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia dell’Università di Pavia 37; Florence, 1985).

272

bibliography

Bolton, J.D.P., Aristeas of Proconnesus (Oxford, 1962). Bonazzi, B., “Eudoro di Alessandria e il Timeo di Platone (a proposito di Simpl. In Phys. p. 181,7–30 Diels),” in F. Calabi (ed.), Arrhetos Theos. L’ineffabilità del primo principio nel medio platonismo (Pisa, 2002) 11–34. Booth, W.C., The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago, 1961, rev. 1983). Borgeaud, P., “La mort du grand Pan,” Rev. Hist. Rel. 200 (1983) 3–39. Botermann, H., Review of P. Wallmann, Triumviri Rei Publicae Constituendae: Untersuchungen zur politischen Propaganda im Zweiten Triumvirat (43–30 v. Chr.), Europäische Hochschulschriften 3.383 (Frankfurt, 1989), Gnomon 62 (1990) 330–334. Boulogne, J., “Trois Eros?: Comment Plutarque Réécrit Platon,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 215–226. Bowersock, G.W., “Greek Intellectuals and the Imperial Cult in the Second Century ad,” in W. Den Boer (ed.), Le culte des souverains dans l’Empire Romain (VandœuvresGeneva, 1973), 179–206. Bowersock, G.W., “Plutarch,” in P.E. Easterling & B.M.W. Knox (eds.), The Cambridge History of Classical Literature. i. Greek Literature (Cambridge, 1985) 665–669. Bowersock, G.W., “Discussion,” in Flashar (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome, 167. Bowie, E.L., “Poetry and Music in the Life of Plutarch’s Statesman,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 115–123. Bradley, K.R., Suetonius’ Life of Nero, Latomus 157 (Brussels, 1978). Braun, H., “Plutarch’s Critique of Superstition in the Light of the New Testament,” opiac 5 (1972) 193–198. Braund, D.C., Augustus to Nero: A Sourcebook on Roman History 31 bc–ad 68 (London, 1985). Bremond, C., Logique du récit (Paris, 1973). Brenk, F.E., “Le songe de Brutus,” in Association Guillaume Budé (ed.), Actes du viiie Congrès (Paris, 1969) 588–594. Brenk, F.E., “‘A Most Strange Doctrine,’ Daimon in Plutarch,” cj 69 (1973) 1–11. Brenk, F.E., “From Mysticism to Mysticism: The Religious Development of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” sbl Sem. Pap. 1 (1975) 193–198. Brenk, F.E., “The Dreams of Plutarch’s Lives,” Latomus 34 (1975) 336–349. Brenk, F.E., In Mist Apparelled. Religious Themes in Plutarch’s Moralia and Lives (Leiden, 1977). Brenk, F.E., “Most Beautiful Horror: Baroque Touches in Vergil’s Underworld,” cw 73 (1979) 1–8. Brenk, F.E., “Unum pro multis caput: Myth, History, and Symbolic Imagery in Vergil’s Palinurus Incident,” Latomus 43 (1984) 776–801. Brenk, F.E., “‘Auorum Spes et Purpurei Flores:’ The Eulogy for Marcellus in Aeneid vi,” AJPh 107 (1986) 218–228. Brenk, F.E., “In the Light of the Moon: Demonology in the Early Imperial Period,” anrw ii. 16.3 (1986) 2068–2145.

bibliography

273

Brenk, F.E., “The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” this volume, above pages 5– 129 (= “An Imperial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” anrw ii.36.1 [1987] 248–349). Brenk, F.E., “Index to Contribution on: An Imperial Heritage,” anrw ii.36.2 (1987) 1300– 1321. Brenk, F.E., “From Rex to Rana: Plutarch’s Treatment of Nero,” in A. Ceresa-Gastaldo (ed.), Il protagonismo nella storiografia classica (Genoa, 1987) 121–142. Brenk, F.E., “Index to Contribution on: In the Light of the Moon: Demonology in the Early Imperial Period,” anrw ii.36.2 (1987) 1283–1299. Brenk, F.E., “I veri demoni greci ‘nella nebbia ammantellati’? Esiodo e Plutarco,” in E. Corsini & Costa (eds.), L’autunno del diavolo, Diabolos, Dialogos, Daimon, Convegno di Torino 17/21 Ottobre 1988. i. Mondo antico e giudaico-cristiano (Milan, 1990) 23–36. Brenk, F.E., “Old Wineskins Recycled: Autarkeia in iTimothy 6.5–10,”Filologia Neotestamentaria 3 (1990) 39–52. Brenk, F.E., “Antony-Osiris, Cleopatra-Isis: The End of Plutarch’s Antony,” in P.A. Stadter, (ed.), Plutarch and the Historical Tradition (Routledge, London 1992) 159–182. Brenk, F.E., “Lo Scrittore Silenzioso: Giudaismo e Cristianesimo in Plutarco,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 239–262. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch, Judaism and Christianity,” in M. Joyal (ed.), Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition: Essays Presented to John Whittaker (Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate, 1997) 97–117. Brenk, F.E., Relighting the Souls: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1998). Brenk, F.E., “‘Isis Is a Greek Word’: Plutarch’s Allegorization of Egyptian Religion,” in Pérez, Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristoteles, 227–238. Brenk, F.E., “Religion under Trajan: Plutarch’s Resurrection of Osiris,” in Stadter & Van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor, 72–92. Brenk, F.E., “O Sweet Mystery of the Lives!: The Eschatalogical Dimension of Plutarch’s Biographies,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 61–73. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God: About to Enter (Or Remake) the Academy,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 27–49. Brenk, F.E., With Unperfumed Voice: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007). Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch and ‘Pagan Monotheism’,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 73–84. Brenk, F.E. & Gallo, I. (eds.), Miscellanea Plutarchea, Atti del I Convegno di Studi su Plutarco (Roma, 23 novembre 1985) (Ferrara, 1986). Brett, A.B., Catalogue of Greek Coins (Boston, 1955). Bringmann, K., “Senecas Apocolocyntosis; Ein Forschungsbericht 1959–1982,” anrw ii.32.2 (1985) 885–914.

274

bibliography

Briones Artacho, M., “Vida de Aristides: aproximaciones a la idea de justicia,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: misticismo y religiones mistéricas, 337–344. Brioso Sánchez, M., & González Ponce, F.J. (eds.), Actitudes literarias en la Grecia romana (Sevilla, 1998). Brisson, J.-P., “Rome et l’age d’or: Dionysos ou Saturne?,” mefra. Antiquité 100 (1988) 917–982. Brommer, F., Theseus. Die Taten des griechischen Helden in der antiken Kunst und Literatur (Darmstadt, 1982). Brouwer, R., “The Early Stoic Doctrine of the Change to Wisdom,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 33 (2007) 285–315. Brout, N., “Au carrefour entre la philosophie grecque et les religions barbares: Typhon dans le De Iside de Plutarque,” Revue de philosophie ancienne 22 (2004) 71–94. Bucher-Isler, B., “Norm und Individualität in den Biographien Plutarchs,” Noctes Romanae 13 (Bern, 1972). Büchner, K., Cicero. Bestand und Wandel seiner geistigen Welt (Heidelberg, 1964). Buckler, J., “Plutarch on Leuktra,” so 55 (1980) 75–93. Budde, L., “Das römische Historienrelief. i,” anrw i.4 (1973) 800–804. Buffière, F., Les mythes d’Homère et la pensée grecque (Paris, 1956). Buricks, A., Peri Tyches (Leiden, 1955). Burkert, W., “Elysion,” Glotta 39 (1960–1961) 208–213. Burkert, W., Ancient Mystery Cults (Cambridge, Mass. 1987). Burkert, W., Greek Religion. Archaic and Classical (Oxford, 1985) (= idem, Griechische Religion der archaischen und klassischen Epoche [Stuttgart, 1977]). Burkert, W., Structure and History in Greek Mythology and Ritual (Berkeley, 1979). Burkert, W., “Plutarco: Religiosità Personale e Teologia Filosofica,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 11–28. Buszard, B.B., “The Decline of Roman Statesmanship in Plutarch’s Pyrrhus-Marius,” cq 55 (2005) 481–497. Buszard, B.B., “Caesar’s Ambition: a Combined Reading of Plutarch’s Alexander-Caesar and Pyrrhus-Marius,” tapa 138 (2008) 185–215. Buszard, B.B., “The Speech of Greek and Roman Women in Plutarch’s Lives,” Classical Philology 105 (2010) 83–115. Buszard, B.B., “Translating Rome: Plutarch’s Skeptical Etymology in Romulus and Numa,” in S. McElduff & E. Sciarrino (eds.), Complicating the history of Western translation (Manchester, 2011) 146–158. Caballero Sánchez, R. & Viansino, G., Plutarco, L’esilio (Naples, 1995). Caballero Sánchez, R., “Entre la necesidad del destino y la libertad del átomo: el clinamen epicúreo y la libertad de indiferencia (Plut., Stoic. Rep. 23, 1045 b–f),” in Pérez Jiménez & Calero Secall (eds.), Δῶρον Μνημοσύνης: miscelánea de estudios ofrecidos a mª Ángeles Durán López (Sevilla, 2011) 69–82.

bibliography

275

Caballero Sánchez, R., “The Adventitious Motion of the Soul (Plu., De Stoic. Repugn. 23, 1045b–f) and the Controversy between Aristo of Chios and the Middle Academy,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 55–72. Caiazza, A., Plutarco, Monarchia, democrazia, ologarchia (Naples, 1993). Caiazza, A., Plutarco, Precetti politici (Naples, 1993). Calderón Dorda, E., De Lazzer, A., & Pellizer, E., Plutarco, Fiumi e monti (Naples, 2003). Candau Morón, J.M., “Plutarch’s Lysander and Sulla: Integrated Characters in Roman Historical Perspective,” AJPh 121(3) (2000) 453–478. Candau Morón, J.M., “Plutarco como transmisor de Timeo: la Vida de Nicias,” Ploutarchos 2 (2004–2005) 11–34. Candura, C.S., La concezione demonologica di Plutarco nel De genio Socratis (Palermo, 1979). Cappellano, E., Il fattore politico negli onori divini a Demetrio Poliorcete (Turin, 1954). Capriglione, J.C. & Pérez Jiménez, A., Plutarco, Sull’utilità dei nemici (Naples, 2008). Capriglione, J.C. & Torraca, L., Plutarco, La bramosia di richezza (Naples, 1996). Carena, C., Manfredini, M., & Piccirilli, L., Plutarco. Vite Parallele. Le vite di Temistocle e di Camillo, Scrittori Greci e Latini (Verona, 1983). Carney, T.F., “The Changing Picture of Marius in Ancient Literature,” paca 10 (1967) 5– 22. Carrano, A., Plutarco, Questioni Greche (Naples, 2007). Carrara, P., “Plutarco ed Euripide: alcune considerazioni sulle citazioni euripidee in Plutarco (De and. poet.),” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 447–455. Carrara, P., “I poeti tragici maestri di virtù nelle opere di Plutarco,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 65–74. Carsana, Ch., “Il Catone di Plutarco: da modello ad antimodello,” in A. González & M.T. Schettino (eds.), L’idéalisation de l’autre. Faire un modèle d’un anti-modèle (Besançon, 2014) 243–266. Casadio, G., “La Nozione Di Religione Nel De Iside Et Osiride di Plutarco e lo studio scientifico della Religione,” in U. Bianchi (ed.), The Notion of Religion in Comparative Research. Selected Proceedings of the xvith Congress of the International Association for the History of Religions, Rome 3rd–8th September, 1990. (Storia delle Religioni 8) (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1994) 349–354. Casadio, G., “Strategia delle citazioni nel de Iside et Osiride: un platonico greco di fronte a una cultura religiosa altra,” in G. D’Ippolito & I. Gallo (eds.), Strutture formali dei Moralia di Plutarco. Atti del iii Convegno plutarcheo. Palermo 3–5 maggio 1989 (Naples, 1991) 257–271. Casanova, A., “Fortuna e carattere da Menandro a Plutarco—con una nota testuale su alcune citazioni di Menandro in Plutarco”, in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 239–250.

276

bibliography

Casanova, A., “Plutarch as Apollo’s priest at Delphi,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 151–157. Casalis, K., et al. (eds.), Il tesoro di Boscoreale. Gli argenti del Louvre e il corredo domestico della “Pisanella” (Milan, 1988). Casadesús Bordoy, F., “La Concepción Plutarquea de los Daímones,” in Pérez Jiménez, & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: misticismo y religiones mistéricas, 23–34. Cavalli, M., “Intrododuzione,” in D. del Corno (ed.), Plutarco, Iside et Osiride (Milan, 1985). Cavalli, M. & Lozza, G., “Introduzione,” in D. del Corno (ed.), Dialoghi delfici, Il tramonto degli oracoli, L’E di Delfi, Gli oracoli della Pizia (Milan, 1983). Chamoux, F., “Vues nouvelles sur Marc Antoine,” emc 30 (1986) 231–243. Chamoux, F., Marc Antoine dernier prince de l’Orient grec (Paris, 1986). Champeaux, J., Fortuna. Recherches sur le culte de la Fortune à Rome et dans le monde romain des origines a la mort de César. i. Fortuna dans la religion archaïque (Rome, 1982). Chassinat, E., Le mystère d’Osiris au mois de Khoiak i–ii (Cairo, 1966–1968). Chatman, S., Story and Discourse. Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film (Ithaca, 1978). Cherniss, H., Plutarch’s Moralia xiii.1 (London / Cambridge, Mass., 1976). Cherniss, H. & Helmbold, W.C., Plutarch’s Moralia xii (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1968). Chesnut, G.F., “The Ruler and the Logos,” anrw ii.16.2 (1978) 1310–1332. Chialva, I.S., “… Como una tragedia: historía y páthos en las Vidas de Nicias y Craso de Plutarco,” in F. Vergara Cerqueira & M.A. Silva de Oliveira (eds.), Ensaios sobre Plutarco (Pelotas, 2010) 149–178. Chiodi, S.M., “Tematica ierogamica nel De Iside,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 121–126. Chirico, I. & Scarcella, A.M., Plutarco, Conversazioni a tavola (Naples, 1998). Citti, V., “Plutarco, Nic. 1.5,” in A. Mastrocinque (ed.), Storiografia e biografia (Padua, 1983) 99–110. Çizek, E., L’époque de Néron er ses controverses idéologiques (Leiden, 1972). Clerc, C., “Plutarque et le culte des images,” Rev. Hist. Rel. 70 (1914) 8–124. Clerc, C., Les théories relatives au culte des images (Paris, 1915). Clinton, K., “The Eleusinian Mysteries: Roman Initiates and Benefactors, Second Century bc to ad267,” anrw ii.18.2 (1989) 1499–1539. Coarelli, F., “I monumenti dei culti orientali in Roma: Questioni topografiche e cronologiche,” in U. Bianchi & E.M.J. Vermasseren (eds.), La soteriologia dei culti orientali nell’Impero Romano (Leiden, 1982) 33–67. Coarelli, F., “Il Sepolcro degli Scipioni,” Dialoghi di Archeologia 6 (1972) 36–106.

bibliography

277

Codignola, M., “La formazione spirituale di Plutarco e la sua personalità filosoficoreligiosa,” Civiltà Moderna 9 (1934) 471–490. Cook, A.B., Zeus. A Study in Ancient Religion. i. Zeus, a God of the Bright Sky (Cambridge, 1914). Cooper, C.R., “Making Irrational Myth Plausible History: Polybian Intertextuality in Plutarch’s Theseus,” Phoenix 61 (2007) 212–233. Corlu, A., Plutarque, Le démon de Socrate (Paris, 1970). Cornell, T.J., “Aeneas and the Twins: The Development of the Roman Foundation Legend,” pcps 21 (1975) 1–33. Cosenza, P., “Reati contro parenti e sangue familiare nelle Leggi di Platone,” in F. Vattioni (ed.), Sangue e antropologia nella liturgia. Atti della iv settimana, Roma, 21–26 novembre 1983 (Rome, 1984) 1–17. Crane, R.S., “The Concept of Plot and the Plot of Tom Jones,” in R.S. Crane (ed.), Critics and Criticism. Ancient and Modern (Chicago, 1952). Crawford, M.H., Roman Republican Coinage (Cambridge, 1974). Culler, J., On Deconstruction. Theory and Criticism after Structuralism (Ithaca, 1982). Culler, J., Structuralist Poetics. Structuralism, Linguistics and the Study of Literature (Ithaca / London, 1976). D’Angelo, A. & Cammarota, M.R., Plutarco, La fortuna o La virtù di Alessandro Magno, Prima orazione (Naples, 1998). Danieli, M.L., “Plutarco a Delfi: Note sulla religiosità plutarchea,” Nuovo Didaskaleion 15 (1965) 5–23. Davis, A.T., “Cleopatra Rediviva,” g&r 16 (1969) 91–93. De Blois, L., et al. (eds.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works: The Statesman in Plutarch’s Greek & Roman Lives (Leiden: Brill, 2004). De Blois, L., “Soldiers and Leaders in Plutarch’s Galba and Otho,” in A. Kriekhaus & H.M. Schellenberg (eds.), A Roman Miscellany: Essays in Honour of A.R. Birley (Hardcover, 2008) 5–13. De Fine Licht, K. (ed.), Città e architettura nella Roma imperiale (Rome, 1983). De Forest, M., “The Central Similes of Horace’s Cleopatra Ode,” cw 82 (1989) 167– 173. De Lacy, P.H. & Einarson, B., Plutarch’s Moralia vii (London / Cambridge, Mass., 1967). De Lazzer, A., Plutarco, Paralleli minori (Naples, 2000). De Man, P., Blindness and Insight. Essays in the Rhetoric of Contemporary Criticism (New York, 1971). De Romilly, J., “Plutarch and Thucydides on the Free Use of Quotations,” Phoenix 42 (1988) 22–34. De Romilly, J., “Rencontres avec Plutarque,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 219–229. De Romilly, J., Histoire et raison chez Thucydide (Paris, 1956). De Vogel, C.J., “Der sogennante Mittelplatonismus, überwiegend eine Philosophie der

278

bibliography

Diesseitigkeit?,” in H.-D. Blume & F. Mann (eds.), Platonismus und Christentum (Münster, 1983) 277–302. De Wet, B.X., “Contemporary Sources in Plutarch’s Life of Antony,” Hermes 118 (1990) 80–90. Defradas, J., Hani, J., & Klaerr, R., Plutarque, Œuvres morales. ii. Consolation à Apollonios, Préceptes de santé, Préceptes de mariage, Le banquet des Sept Sages, De la superstition (Paris, 1985). Del Re, R., “De Plutarcho Chaeronensi immortalitatis animorum assertore,” Latinitas 13 (1965) 184–192. Del Re, R., “Il pensiero metafisico di Plutarco: Dio, la natura, il male,” Stud. It. 24 (1950) 33–64. Del Re, R., De e Delphico (Naples, 1936). Del Re, R., Il dialogo Sull’estinzione degli oracoli (Naples, 1934). Demargne, P., “Notice sur la vie et les travaux de Robert Flacelière,” crai 3 (1984) 3– 12. Den Boer, W., “Plutarch’s Philosophical Basis for Personal Involvement,” in J.W. Eadie & J. Ober (eds.), The Craft of the Ancient Historian. Essays in Honor of Chester G. Starr (Lanham, Maryland, 1985) 373–386. Den Boer, W. (ed.), Le culte des souverains dans l’Empire Romain, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 19 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1973). Derchain, P., “L’authenticité de l’inspiration égyptienne dans le Corpus Hermeticum,” Rev. Hist. Rel. 161 (1962) 175–198. Deremetz, A., “Plutarque: histoire de l’origine et genèse du récit,” reg 103 (1990) 54–78. Desideri, P., “Il De genio Socratis di Plutarco: Un esempio di ‘storiografia tragica’?,” Athenaeum n.s. 72 (1984) 569–585. Desideri, P., “La formazione delle coppie nelle Vite plutarchee,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4470–4486. Dessau, H., Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae ii.2 (Berlin, 1906). Détienne, M., “Dionysos en ses parousies: un dieu épidémique,” in L’association dionysiaque dans les sociétés anciennes. Actes de la table ronde organisée par l’Ecole française de Rome (Rome 24–25 mai 1984) (Rome, 1986) 53–83. Détienne, M., “Xénocrate et la démonologie pythagoricienne,” rea 60 (1958) 271–279. Détienne, M., De la pensée religieuse a la pensée philosophique. La notion de daïmôn dans le pythagorisme ancien (Paris, 1963). Devereux, G., Dreams in Greek Tragedy. An Ethno-Psycho-Analytical Study (Berkeley, 1976). Di Florio, M., Plutarco, Il confronto tra Aristofane e Menandro. Compendio (Naples, 2008). Diels, H., Simplicii in Aristotelis Physicorum Libros Quattuor Priores Commentarii (Berlin, 1883).

bibliography

279

Diggle, J., Euripidis Fabulae i, Cyclops, Alcestis, Medea, Heraclidae, Hippolytus, Andromacha, Hecuba (Oxford, 1984). Dihle, A., Studien zur griechischen Biographie (Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Philos.-hist. Kl. 3. Folge 37; Göttingen, 1956). Dihle, A., Die Entstehung der historischen Biographie (Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse. Philosoph.-histor. Klasse 1986.3; Heidelberg, 1987). Dillon, J.M., The Middle Platonists (London, 1976). Dillon, J.M., “The Nature of God in the Quod Deus,” in D. Winston & J. Dillon (eds.), Two Treatises of Philo of Alexandria (Chico, California, 1983). Dillon, J.M., “Plutarch and Second Century Platonism,” in A.H. Armstrong (ed.), Classical Mediterranean Spirituality. Egyptian, Greek, Roman (New York, 1986) 214–229. Dillon, J.M., “Plutarch and Platonist Orthodoxy,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 357–364. Dillon, J.M., “Plutarch and God: Theodicy and Cosmogony in the Thought of Plutarch,” in A. Laks and D. Frede (eds.), Traditions of Theology: Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden: Brill, 2002) 223–237. Dillon J.M., “Dion and Brutus: Philosopher Kings adrift in a Hostile World,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 87–102. Dindorf, W. (ed.), Aelius Aristides iii (Leipzig, 1829). D’Ippolito, G. & Nuzzo, G., Plutarco, L’origine del freddo, Se sia più utile l’acqua o il fuoco (Naples, 2012). Dittenberger, W., Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae (Leipzig, 1903–1905). Dodds, E.R., The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley, 1951). Dodds, E.R., Pagan and Christian in an Age of Anxiety (Cambridge, 1964). Donini, P.L., Tre Studi sull’Aristotelismo nel ii Secolo d.C. (Turin, 1974). Donini, P.L., Le scuole, l’anima, l’impero. La filosofia antica da Antioco a Plotino (Turin, 1982). Donini, P.L., “Lo scetticismo academico: Aristotele e l’unità della tradizione platonica secondo Plutarco,” in G. Cambiano (ed.), Storiografia e dossografia nella filosofia antica (Turin, 1986) 203–226. Donini, P.L., “Plutarco, Ammonio e l’Academia,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 97–110. Donini, P.L., “Science and Metaphysics: Platonism, Aristotelianism, and Stoicism in Plutarch’s On the face in the moon,” in A.A. Long & J.M. Dillon (eds.), The Question of Eclectism. Studies in Later Greek Philosophy (Berkeley: Univ. of California Pr, 1988) 126–144. Donini, P.L., Plutarco, Il volto della luna (Naples, 2011). Dorandi, T., “Gli scritti antiepicurei di Plutarco,” in G.P. Carratelli (ed.), Συζήτησις. Studi sull’epicureismo greco e romano (Naples, 1983) 679–682.

280

bibliography

Döring, K., “Plutarch und das Daimonion des Sokrates (Plut., De genio Socratis, Kap. 20– 24),” Mnemosyne 37 (1984) 376–392. Dörrie, H., “Der Platoniker Eudoros von Alexandreia,” Hermes 79 (1944) 25–38. Dörrie, H., “Die Frage nach dem Transzendenten im Mittel-platonismus,” in Fondation Hardt (ed.), Les sources de Plotin. Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 5 (VandœuvresGeneva 1960) 191–223. Dörrie, H., “Zum Ursprung der neuplatonischen Hypostasenlehre,” Hermes 82 (1954) 331–342. Dörrie, H., Der Königskult des Antiochos von Kommagene im Lichte neuer Inschriftenfunde (Göttingen, 1964). Dörrie, H., “Xenokrates,” re ix a. 2 (1967) 1512–1528. Dörrie, H., “Le platonisme de Plutarque,” in Association Guillaume Budé (ed.), Actes du viiie Congrès (Paris, 1969) 519–530. Dörrie, H., “Die Erneuerung des Platonismus im ersten Jahrhundert vor Christus,” in Le Néoplatonisme. Colloque internationaux du Centre national de la recherche scientifique (Royaumont 9.–13. Juni 1969). Paris 1971. 17–33 (= idem, Platonica Minora, 154–165). Dörrie, H., “Die Stellung Plutarchs im Platonismus seiner Zeit,” in R.B. Palmer & R. Hamerton-Kelly (eds.), Philomathes. Studies and Essays in the Humanities in Honor of Philip Merlan (The Hague, 1971) 36–56. Dörrie, H., “Emanation,” in K. Flasch (ed.), Parusia. Studien zur Philosophie Platons und zur Problemgeschichte des Platonismus (Frankfurt, 1965) 119–141 (= Platonica Minora, 70–85). Dörrie, H., “Gnostische Spuren bei Plutarch,” in R. van den Broek & M.J. Vermaseren (eds.), Studies in Gnosticism and Hellenistic Religions (Leiden, 1981) 92–117. Dörrie, H., “Le renouveau du platonisme à l’époque de Cicéron,” Rev. Théol. Philos. 24 (1974) 1–29. Dörrie, H., “Logos-Religion? Oder Nous-Theologie?: Die hauptsächlichen Aspekte des kaiserzeitlichen Platonismus,” in J. Mansfeld & L.M. De Rijk (eds.), Kephalaion. Studies in Greek Philosophy and its Continuation (Assen, 1975) 115–136. Dörrie, H., Platonica Minora (Munich, 1976). Dörrie, H., Von Platon zum Platonismus. Ein Bruch in der Überlieferung und seine Überwindung (Opladen, 1976). Dörrie, H., “Der Platonismus in der Kultur- und Geistesgeschichte der frühen Kaiserzeit,” in H. Dörrie (ed.), Platonica Minora, 166–210. Dörrie, H., “‘Der Weise vom Roten Meer:’ Eine okkulte Offenbarung durch Plutarch als Plagiat entlarvt,” in P. Händel & W. Meid (eds.), Festschrift für Robert Muth (Innsbruck, 1983) 95–110. Duff, T.E., Plutarch’s Lives: Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999). Duff, T.E., “The Prologue to the Lifes of Perikles and Fabius (Per. 1–2),” in Pérez Jiménez &

bibliography

281

Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Misticismo y Religiones Mistéricas, 351–363. Duff, T.E., “The First Five Anecdotes of Plutarch’s Life of Alkibiades,” in De Blois (ed.), The Stateman in Plutarch’s Works, 157–166. Duff, T.E., “Plutarch’s Themistocles and Camillus,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 45– 86. Duff, T.E., “Plutarch’s Readers and the Moralism of the Lives,” Ploutarchos 5 (2008) 3–18. Duff, T.E., “The Opening of Plutarch’s Life of Themistokles,” grbs 48 (2008) 159–179. Duff, T.E., “Plutarch’s Lives and the Critical Reader,” in Roskam & Van der Stockt (eds.), Virtues for the people, 59–82. Dumézil, G., La religion romaine archaïque (Paris, 1966) (= idem, Archaic Roman Religion [Chicago, 1970]). Dumézil, G., Mitra-Varuna (Paris, 1948). Dumortier, J. & Defradas, J., Plutarque. Œuvres morales viii (Paris, 1975) 89–129. Dunand, F., “Les associations dionysiaques au service du pouvoir lagide (iiie s. av. J.C.),” in L’association dionysiaque dans les sociétés anciennes (Paris, 1986) 85–104. Dunand, F., Le culte d’Isis dans le bassin oriental de la Méditerranée (Leiden, 1973). Dunbabin, K.M.D., “Sic Erimus Cuncti … The Skeleton in Graeco-Roman Art,” jdai 101 (1986) 185–255. Durán Mañas, M., “Valores y virtudes de las mujeres en la Vida de Demetrio,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 75–98. Durán Mañas, M., “Influencia aristotélica en los sueños de las Vidas plutarqueas de Alejandro y César,” cfc(g) 20 (2010) 231–246. Edmunds, L., Chance and Intelligence in Thucydides (Cambridge, Mass., 1975). Edwards, J., “Plutarch and the Death of Pyrrhus: Disambiguating the Conflicting Accounts,” Scholia 20 (2011) 112–131. Eichhoff, K.J.L.M., Über Plutarchs religiös-sittliche Weltansicht (Progr. Elberfeld, 1833). Einarson, B. & De Lacy, P.H., Plutarch’s Moralia. xiv (London, 1967). Eisele, T., “Zur Dämonologie des Plutarch von Chäronea,” Arch. für Gesch. der Philos. 17 (1904) 29–51. Erbse, H., “Plutarchs Schrift Περὶ δεισιδαιμονίας,” Hermes 80 (1952) 295–314. Ericsson, H., “Sulla Felix. Eine Wortstudie,” Eranos 41 (1943) 77–89. Eschebach, H., Pompeji. Erlebte antike Welt (Leipzig, 1978). Etheridge, S.G., Plutarch’s De virtute morali. A Study in Extra-Peripatetic Aristotelianism (Diss. Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., 1961). Fabricius, R., Zur religiösen Anschauungsweise des Plutarch (Königsberg, 1879). Feig Vishnia, R., “A Case of ‘Bad Press’?: Gaius Flaminius in Ancient Historiography,” zpe 181 (2012) 27–45. Feldman, L.H., “Parallel Lives of Two Lawgivers: Josephus’ Moses and Plutarch’s Lycurgus,” in J.C. Edmondson, S. Mason & J. Boykin Rives (eds.), Flavius Josephus and

282

bibliography

Flavian Rome. Contributions présentées à un colloque qui s’est tenu à Toronto en mai 2001 (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2005) 209–242. Fernández Delgado, J.A., “Héroes, enigmas y edad de los démones, de Hesíodo a Plutarco: la intertextualidad fragmentada,” Van der Stockt (ed.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 163–175. Ferrarese, P., “Caratteri della tradizione antipericlea nella Vita di Pericle di Plutarco,” in M. Sordi (ed.), Storiografia e propaganda (Milan, 1975) 21–30. Ferrari, F., Dio, idee e materia (Naples, 1995). Ferrari, F., “Dio: padre e artefice. La theologia di Plutarco in Plat. Quaest. 2,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione, 395–409. Ferrari, F., “Pronoia platonica e noesi noeseos aristotelica: Plutarco e l’impossibilita di una sintisi,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 63–77. Ferrari, F., “Plutarch. Platonismus und Tradition,” in M. Erler & A. Graeser (eds.), Philosophen des Altertums (Darmstadt, 2000) 109–127. Ferrari, F., “Le Système Des Causes Dans Le Platonisme Moyen,” Aitia 2 (2014) 185–205. Ferrari, F., “La Costruzione Del Platonismo Nel De e Apud Delphos di Plutarco,” Athenaeum 98 (2010) 71–87. Ferrari, F., & Baldi, L., Plutarco, La generazione dell’anima nel Timeo (Naples, 2006). Ferro, A., “Le idee religiose di Plutarco,” Arch. della Cult. Ital. 2 (1940) 173–232. Festugière, A.J., “L’exégèse allégorique dans le De Iside de Plutarque,” Ann. ephe, 5ème sect. (1960–1961) 104–105. Fialho, M. do C., “From Flower to Chameleon: Values and Counter-Values in Alcibiades’ Life,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 108– 116. Fialho, M. do C., “Φιλανθρωπία and φιλαυτία in Plutarch’s Theseus,” Hermathena 182 (2007) 71–83. Fialho, M. do C., “The Interplay of Textual References in Plutarch’s Life of Phocion,” Ploutarchos 8 (2010–2011) 91–102. Finamore, J.F., “Plutarch and Apuleius on Socrates’ daimonion,” D.A. Layne & Tarrant, H.A.S. (eds.), The Neoplatonic Socrates. Papers Exploring the Portrait of Socrates Developed by the Platonists in the First Six Cents. a.d. (Philadelphia (Pa.): University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014) 36–50. Finley, J.H., Thucydides (Cambridge, Mass., 1942). Fishwick, D., “The Temple of Caesar at Alexandria,” ajah 9 (1984 [1990]) 131–134. Fishwick, D., “Votive Offerings to the Emperor,” zpe 80 (1990) 121–130. Flacelière, R., “Plutarque, prêtre de Delphes,” reg 55 (1942) 50–69. Flacelière, R., “Plutarque et la Pythie,” reg 56 (1943) 72–111. Flacelière, R., Plutarque. Sur la disparition des oracles (Paris, 1947). Flacelière, R., “Sur quelques passages des Vies de Plutarque: i. Thésée-Romulus,” reg 61 (1948) 67–103.

bibliography

283

Flacelière, R., “Theseus,” reg 59 (1948) 67–105. Flacelière, R., “Plutarque et les éclipses de la lune,” reg 53 (1951) 203–221. Flacelière, R., “Sur quelques points obscurs de la vie de Thémistocle,”rea 55 (1953) 4–28. Flacelière, R., “La théologie selon Plutarque,” in P. Gros & Morel, J.-P. (eds.), Mélanges de philosophie, de littérature et d’histoire ancienne (Rome, 1974) 273–280. Flacelière, R., “La lune selon Plutarque,” in P. Ducrey (ed.), Mélanges d’histoire ancienne et d’archéologie (Paris, 1976) 193–195. Flacelière, R., “Cicéron à Delphes,” Études Delphiques à la Memoire de P. de La CosteMesselière (Bull. Corr. Hell., Suppl. 4; Paris 1977) 159–160. Flacelière, R., Chambry, É., & Juneaux, M., Plutarque. Vies i. Thésée-Romulus, LycurgueNuma., Collection des Universités de France (Paris, 1957). Flacelière, R., Chambry, É., & Juneaux, M., Plutarque. Vies ii (Collection des Universités de France; Paris, 1961). Flacelière, R. & Chambry, É., Plutarque. Vies xiii (Collection des Universités de France; Paris, 1977). Flacelière, R. & Cuvigny, M., Plutarque. Œuvres morales x (Paris, 1980). Flacelière, R., Irigoin, J., Sirinelli, J., & Philippon, A., Plutarque. Œuvres Morales i.1 (Collection des Universités de France; Paris, 1987). Flacelière, R., Plutarque. Œuvres Morales vi (Paris, 1974). Flashar, H. (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome aux Iers siècles avant et après J.-C, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 25 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1979). Fontana, M.J., “Fortuna di Timoleonte. Rassegna delle fonti letterarie,” Kokalos 4 (1958) 3–23. Fontenrose, J., “Review of M. Delcourt, L’oracle de Delphes (Paris, 1955; reprint, Paris, 1981),” Gnomon 55 (1983) 264–265. Fontenrose, J., The Delphic Oracle. Its Responses and Operations with a Catalogue of Responses (Berkeley, 1978). Forni, G. Plutarco, La fortuna dei Romani (Naples, 1989). Fowler, D.P., “First Thoughts on Closure: Problems and Prospects,” Materiali e discussioni per l’analisi dei testi classici 22 (1989) 75–122. Fraser, P.M., “Mark Antony in Alexandria: A Note,” jrs 47 (1957) 71–73. Fraser, P.M., Ptolemaic Alexandria (Oxford, 1972). Frassinetti, P., “Un frammento di Pindaro?,” Giornale Italiano di Filologia 4 (1951) 1–5. Frazier, F., “À propos de la composition des couples dans les Vies Parallèles de Plutarque,” RPh. 61 (1987) 65–75. Frazier, F., “Contribution à l’étude de la composition des Vies de Plutarque: L’élaboration des grandes scènes,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4487–4535. Frazier, F. & Froidefond, C., Plutarque. Œuvres Morales v.1 (Paris, 1990). Frazier, F., “Philosophie et religion dans la pensée de Plutarque: quelques réflexions autour des emplois du mot Πίστις,” Études Platoniciennes 5 (2008) 41–61.

284

bibliography

Frazier, F., “Introduction: La marche du monde et les incertitudes de la tychè,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, viii–xxiii. Frazier, F., “Le De sera, dialogue pythique: Hasard et Providence, Philosophie et Religion dans la pensée de Plutarque,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 69– 92. Frazier, F., & Leão, D., Tychè et Pronoia: la marche du monde selon Plutarque (Coimbra, 2010). Freedberg, S.J., Painting in Italy 1500–1600 (Pelican History of Art; New York, 1971, rev., 1979). Friederich, W.-H., “Caesar und sein Glück,” in O. Hiltbrunner, H. Kornhardt, & F. Tietze (eds.), Thesaurismata (Munich, 1954) 1–24 (= Dauer im Wechsel [Göttingen, 1977] 376–388). Froidefond, C., “Notes critiques sur quelques passages du De Iside et Osiride de Plutarque,” reg 85 (1972) 63–71. Froidefond, C., “Plutarque et le platonisme,” anrw ii.36.1 (1987) 184–233. Frost, F.J., “Plutarch and Theseus,” cb 60 (1984) 65–73. Frost, F.J., Plutarch (London, 1984). Frost, F., Plutarch’s Themistocles. A Historical Commentary (Princeton, 1980). Fuscagni, S., “Callistene di Olinto e la Vita di Pelopida di Plutarco,” in M. Sordi (ed.), Storiografia e propaganda (Milan, 1975) 31–55. Gabba, E., “Considerazioni sulla tradizione letteraria sulle origini della Repubblica,” in Les origines de la Republique Romaine. Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classsique 13 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1967) 133–174. Gallavotti, C., “Monumentum Sicili: Miscellanea di studi in memoria di Marino Barchiesi,” Riv. Cult. Class. Med. 19 (1977) 399–410. Gallo, I. (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo (Ravello, 29–31 maggio 1995) (Naples, 1996). Gallo, I., Garzya, A., Giangrande, G. &Manfredini, M. (eds.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia di Plutarco (Salerno, 1988). Gallo, I. & Pettine, E., Plutarco, Come distinguere l’adulatore dall’amico (Naples, 1988). Gallo, I., “Una nuova iniziativa scientifica ed editoriale: il Corpus Plutarchi Moralium,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 143–145. Gallo, I. & Mocci, M., Plutarco, La gloria di atene (Naples, 1992). Gallo, I., Plutarco, Se sia ben detto, vivi nascosto (Naples, 2000). García Bravo, A., “El pensamiento de Plutarco acerca de la paz y de la guerra,” cfc 5 (1973) 141–191. García García, E.A., “La idea de daimon en Plutarco,” in M. García Valdés (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: ideas religiosas. Actas del iii Simposio Español sobre Plutarco (Madrid, 1994) 131–136. Garretti, A., Plutarchi Vita Caesaris (Florence, 1954).

bibliography

285

Gärtner, H., “Sokrates. 3,” in K. Ziegler, S. Sontheimer, & H. Gärtner (eds.), Der kleine Pauly. Lexikon der Antike v (Munich, 1975) 255. Garzya, A., “La tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia: linee generali,” in Gallo et al. (eds.) Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia, 9–38. Garzya, A., “Planude e il testo dei Moralia,” in Gallo et al. (eds.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia, 39–54. Gasparri, C., “Dionysos/Bacchus,” in L. Kahil et al. (eds.), Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae iii.1 and iii.2 (Zurich / Munich, 1986) iii.1, 540–566, iii.2, 428– 456. Geigenmüller, P., “Plutarchs Stellung zur Religion und Philosophie seiner Zeit,” Neue Jb. klass. Alt. 47 (1921) 251–270. Geiger, J., “Munatius Rufus and Thrasea Paetus on Cato the Younger,” Athenaeum 67 (1979) 48–72. Geiger, J., “Nepos and Plutarch: From Latin to Greek Political Biography,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 245–256. Geiger, J., “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives: The Choice of Heroes,” Hermes 109 (1981) 85–104. Geiger, J., Cornelius Nepos and Ancient Political Biography (Stuttgart, 1985). Geiger, J., “Plutarch, Dionysus, and the God of the Jews Revisited,” in Van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 211–219. Gelzer, M., Caesar. Politician and Statesman (Oxford, 1968). Genette, G., Figures iii (Paris, 1972; partly translated into English as Narrative Discourse. An Essay in Method [Ithaca, 1980]). Genette, G., Figures of Literary Discourse (New York, 1982). Genette, G., Nouveau discours du récit (Paris, 1983). Gentili, B. & Cerri, G., History and Biography in Ancient Thought (London Studies in Classical Philology 20; Amsterdam, 1988) (= idem, Storia e biografia nel pensiero antico, Bibl. di Cultura Mod. 878 [Roma / Bari, 1983]). Georgiadou, A., “The Lives of the Caesars and Plutarch’s other Lives,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 349–356. Giannattasio Andria, R., “La philia tra Moralia e Vitae,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 137–153. Gianfrancesco, L., “Un frammento sofistico nella Vita di Teseo di Plutarco,” in M. Sordi (ed.), Storiografia e propaganda (Milan, 1975) 7–20. Giangrande, G., “Problemi di critica testuale nei Moralia,” in Gallo et al. (eds.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia, 55–78, 79–102. Giangrande, G., Plutarco, Narrazioni d’amore (Naples, 1991). Giardina, A., “Μῆτιω in Rome: A Greek Dream of Sulla,” in T.C. Brennan & H.I. Flower (eds.), East & West. Papers Presented to Glen W. Bowersock, Papers in Ancient History Presented to Glen W. Bowersock (Harvard University Department of the Classics, 2009) 61–83.

286

bibliography

Giebel, M., (ed.), Caesar (Stuttgart, 2015). Gil, L., “La semblanza de Nicias en Plutarco,” E. Class. 6, (1962) 404–450. Gill, C., “The Question of Character-Development: Plutarch and Tacitus,” cq 33 (1983) 469–487. Gill, C., “Peace of Mind and Being Yourself: Panaetius to Plutarch,” anrw ii.36.7 (1994) 4599–4640. Gill, C., “Competing Readings of Stoic Emotions,” in R. Salles (ed.), Metaphysics, Soul, and Ethics in Ancient Thought: Themes from the Work of Richard Sorabji (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2005) 445–470. Glaesener, H., “Un mot historique de César,” ac 22 (1953) 103–105. Glucker, J., Antiochus and the Late Academy (Göttingen, 1978). Goldschmidt, V., “Les thèmes du De defectu oraculorum de Plutarque,” reg 61 (1948) 298–302. Gómez Cardó, P., “Laconismo como virtud en la Atenas del s. v a.C.: a propósito de la Vida de Cimón de Plutarco,” Myrtia 22 (2007) 69–81. Gomme, A.W., A Historical Commentary on Thucydides i. Introduction and Commentary on Book i (Oxford 1945). Gomme, A.W., A Historical Commentary on Thucydides iv (Oxford, 1970). Gomme, A.W. & Sandbach, F.H., Menander. A Commentary (Oxford, 1973). González, J., et al. (ed.), L’Africa romana. xvii (Roma, 2008). Gordon, R., “Fear of Freedom?: Selective Continuity in Religion during the Hellenistic Period,” Didaskalos 4 (1972) 48–60. Görgemanns, H., Untersuchungen zu Plutarchs Dialog De facie in orbe lunae (Heidelberg, 1970). Gould, J.B., The Philosophy of Chrysippus (Leiden, 1970). Gow, A.S.F. & Scholfield, A.F., Nicander. The Poems and Poetical Fragments (Cambridge, 1953). Graf, F., “Plutarco e La Religione Romana,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione, 269– 283. Granarolo, J., “L’époque néotérique ou la poésie romaine d’avant garde au dernier siècle de la République,” anrw i.3 (1973) 278–360. Graninger, C.D., “Plutarch on the Evacuation of Athens (Themistocles 10.8–9),” Hermes 138 (2010) 308–317. Gray, P.T.R., “Humor and Religion in Plutarch’s Writtings,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco, 197–205. Gréard, O., De la Morale de Plutarque (Paris, 1866). Green, P., “Possession and Pneuma: The Essential Nature of the Delphic Oracle,” in M. Stefanou, & K. Bourazelis (eds.), Πρακτικά του Συμποσίου “Μύθος μετά λόγου: διάλογοι για την ουσία και τη διαχρονική αξία του αρχαίου Ελληνικού μύθου”: Αγ. Κήρυκος, Ικαρία, 17– 20 Ιουνίου 2005 = Proceedings of the Symposium “Mythos with logos: dialogues on the

bibliography

287

essence and timeless value of ancient Greek myths” (Athens: Festival Ikarias, 2007) 159–176. Greimas, A.J., Sémantique structurale. Recherche de méthode (Paris, 1966). Griffin, M.T., Seneca. A Philosopher in Politics (Oxford, 1976). Griffin, M.T., Nero. The End of a Dynasty (London, 1984). Griffiths, J.G., Plutarch, De Iside et Osiride (Cambridge, 1970). Griffiths, J.G., Apuleius of Madauros. The Isis-Book (Metamorphoses, Book xi) (Leiden, 1975). Grimaldi, M., Plutarco, La malignità di Erodoto (Naples, 2004). Grose, S.W., Catalogue of the McClean Collection of Greek Coins (Cambridge, 1926). Gruen, E.S., Studies in Greek Culture and Roman Policy (Leiden, 1990). Gruen, E.S., The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome (Berkeley, 1984). Guerini, R., “Plutarco e la biografia. Personaggi, episodi, moduli compositivi in alcuni cicli pittorici romani 1540–1550,” in S. Settis (ed.), Dal testo all’immagine. La “pittura di storia” nel Rinascimento, Memoria dell’antico nell’arte italiana 2. I generi e i temi ritrovati (Turin, 1985) 83–93. Guelfucci M.-R., “Polybe, la Τύχη et la marche de l’Histoire,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 141–168. Günther, L.-M., “Catos Feigen aus Karthago: zur Interpretation einer Anekdote (Plutarch, Cato maior, 27, 1),” in J. González et al. (ed.), L’Africa romana. xvii (Roma, 2008) 151–156. Habicht, C., “Gottmenschentum und griechische Städte,” Zetemata 14 (1956) 187–189. Hadas, M., “The Religion of Plutarch,” Rev. of Rel. 6 (1941–1942) 270–282. Hägg, T., The Novel in Antiquity (Berkeley, 1983) (= idem, Den Antika Romanen [Uppsala, 1980]). Halfmann, H., Marcus Antonius (Darmstadt, 2011). Hamilton, J.R., Plutarch. Alexander. A Commentary (Oxford, 1969). Hamon, P., “Pour un statut sémiologique du personnage,” in R. Barthes, W. Kayser, W.C. Booth, & P. Hamon (eds.), Poétique du récit (Paris, 1977) 115–180. Hani, J., “Plutarque en face du dualisme Iranien,” reg 77 (1964) 489–525. Hani, J., La religion égyptienne dans la pensée de Plutarque (Paris, 1976). Hansen, P.A., De Herodoti malignitate (Amsterdam, 1979). Hardie, P.R., “Sign Language in On the Sign of Socrates,” in L. Van der Stockt (ed.), A Miscellany of Essays on Plutarch (Leuven, 1996) 123–136. Harrison, G.W.M., “Plutarch the Dramaturg [Sic]: Statecraft as Stagecraft in the Lives,” in De Blois et al. (eds.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 53–59. Häussler, E., “Keine griechische Version der Historien Pollios,” Rh. m. 109 (1966) 339– 355. Hawking, S.W., A Brief History of Time. From the Big Bang to Black Holes (New York, 1988).

288

bibliography

Hawes, Greta, Rationalizing Myth in Antiquity (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). Head, B.V. et al. (eds.), A Guide to the Principal Coins of the Greeks from circ. 700bc to ad270 (London, 1965). Henrichs, A., “The Eumenides and Wineless Libations in the Derveni Papyrus,” Atti del xvii Congresso Internazionale di Papirologia ii (Naples, 1984) 254–268. Henrichs, A., “Human Sacrifice in Greek Religion,” in Fondation Hardt (ed.), Le sacrifice dans l’antiquité. Entretiens sur l’Antiquite Classique 28 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1981) 195–235. Herschbell, J., “Plutarch and Anaxagoras,” ics 7 (1982) 141–158. Herschbell, J., “Plutarch’s Pythagorean Friends,” clb 60 (1984) 73–79. Herter, H., “Θησεύς,” Platon 25 (1973) 3–13. Herter, H., “Theseus,” re Supplbd. xiii (1973) 1045–1238. Herzog-Hauaser, G., “Tyche,” re vii a,2 (1948) 1643–1689. Higgins, R., The Quest for Theseus (London, 1970). Hillard, T.W., “Plutarch’s Late-Republican Lives: Between the Lines,” Antichthon 21 (1987) 19–48. Hillman, T.P., “Pompeius in Africa and Sulla’s Order to Demobilize: (Plutarch, Pompeius 13, 1–4),” Latomus 56 (1997) 94–106. Hillman, T.P., “Notes on the Trial of Pompeius at Plutarch, Pomp. 4. 1–6,” RhM 141 (1998) 176–193. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Aesthetics and Religious Hermeneutics in Plutarch,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco, 207–213. Hirsch-Luipold, R. (ed.), Gott und Die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder— Weltbilder (Berlin; New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2005). Hirsch-Luipold, R., Görgemanns, H., & Albrecht, M. von (eds.), Religiöse Philosophie und philosophische Religion der frühen Kaiserzeit. Literaturgeschichtliche Perspektiven (Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum 51; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). Hirzel, R., Plutarch (Leipzig, 1912). Hohl, E., “Cäsar am Rubico,” Hermes 80 (1952) 246–249. Homeyer, H., “Ciceros Tod im Urteil der Nachwelt,” Altertum 17 (1971) 165–174. Homeyer, H., “Zu Plutarchs De malignitate Herodoti,” Klio 49 (1967) 181–187. Homeyer, H., Die antiken Berichte über den Tod Ciceros und ihre Quellen (Baden-Baden, 1964). Hommel, H., “Euripides in Ostia: Ein neues Chorliedfragment und seine Umwelt,” Epigraphica 19 (1957) 109–164 (= idem, Symbola i. Kleine Schriften zur Literatur-und Kulturgeschichte der Antike [Hildesheim and New York, 1976] 117–164). Hornbostel, W., Sarapis (Leiden, 1973). Hotz, S., “Delphi: Eine Störrische Ziege und Priester unter Druck,” in G. Schwedler,

bibliography

289

S. Hotz, S. Weinfurter, & C. Ambos (eds.), Die Welt der Rituale: von der Antike bis heute (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 2005) 102–105. Huart, P., Le vocabulaire de l’analyse psychologique dans l’œuvre de Thucydide (Paris, 1968). Hude, C. (ed.), Thucydidis Historiae i (Leipzig, 1913). Humble, N. (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives (Classical Press of Wales, 2010). Huzar, E.G., “Alexandria and Aegyptum in the Julio-Claudian Age,” anrw ii.10.1 (1988) 619–668. Huzar, E.G., “Mark Antony: Marriages vs. Careers,” cj 81 (1986) 97–111. Huzar, E.G., Mark Antony. A Biography (Minneapolis, 1978). Impara, P. & Manfredini, M., Plutarco, Consolazione alla moglie (Naples, 1991). Imperio, O., “Il ritratto di Pericle nella commedia attica antica: presenze e assenze dei comici nella biografia periclea di Plutarco,” c&c 8 (2013) 145–174. Indelli, G., Plutarco, Le bestie sono esseri razionali (Naples, 1995). Ingenkamp, H.G., Plutarchs Schriften über die Heilung der Seele (Göttingen, 1971). Ingenkamp, H.G., “Juridical and Non-Juridical Eschatologies—and Mysteries,” in Pérez Jiménez, & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios Sobre Plutarco: misticismo y religiones mistéricas, 131–141. Inglese, L. & Santese, G., Plutarco, Il cibarsi di carne (Naples, 1999). Inglese, L., Plutarco, La curiosità (Naples, 1996). Irigoin, J., “Le Catalogue de Lamprias: Tradition manuscrite et éditions imprimées,”reg 99 (1986) 318–331. Isager, J., & Lorsch, R.S., Divination and Portents in the Roman World (Odense, 2000). Iser, W., The Act of Reading. A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore, 1978) (= idem, Der Akt des Lesens. Theorie ästhetischer Wirkung [Munich, 1976, rev., 1984]). Jacobs, J., “Traces of the Omen Series Šumma Izbu in Cicero, De Divinatione,” Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation, 317–339. Jacoby, F., Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (Berlin, 1926). Jazdzewska, K.A., “‘Like a Married Woman’: The Kingfisher in Plutarch’s De Sollertia Animalium and in the Ps.-Platonic Halcyon,” Mnemosyne 68 (2015) 424–436. Jazdzewska, K.A., “Not an ‘innocent Spectacle’: Hunting and uenationes in Plutarch’s De Sollertia Animalium,” Ploutarchos 7 (2010) 35–45. Jameson, M., “Notes on the Sacrificial Calendar from Erchia,” bch 89 (1965) 154–172. Jones, C.P., “Towards a Chronology of Plutarch’s Works,” jrs 56 (1966) 61–74. Jones, C.P., “The Teacher of Plutarch,” HSCPh 71 (1966) 205–213. Jones, C.P., Plutarch and Rome (Oxford, 1971). Jones, H.S., rev., J.E. Powell, Thucydidis Historiae i, (Oxford, 1942). Jones, R.M. The Platonism of Plutarch (Menasha, Wisconsin, 1916). Ju, A.E., “Posidonius as Historian of Philosophy: An Interpretation of Plutarch, De Animae Procreatione in Timaeo 22, 1023b–c,” in M. Schofield (ed.), Aristotle, Plato and

290

bibliography

Pythagoreanism in the First Century bc: New Directions for Philosophy (Cambridge University Press, 2013) 95–117. Kahlil, L. (ed.), Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae (Zurich, 1986). Kaibel, G., Epigrammata Graeca ex Lapidibus Conlecta (Berlin, 1878). Kajanto, I., “Fortuna,” anrw ii.17.1 (1981) 502–558. Kalleres, D.S., “‘Oh, Lord, Give This One a Daimon so That He May No Longer Sin’: The Holy Man and His Daimones in Hagiography,” Archiv Für Religionsgeschichte 14 (2012) 205–235. Kannicht, R. & Snell, B. (eds.), Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (TrGrF) ii. Fragmenta Adespota (Göttingen, 1981). Kayser, W., “Qui raconte le roman?,” in R. Barthes, W. Kayser, W.C. Booth, & P. Hamon (eds.), Poétique du récit (Paris, 1977) 59–84. Kermode, F., The Sense of an Ending. Studies in the Theory of Fiction (Oxford, 1967). Kertész, I., “Bemerkungen zum Kult des Demetrius Poliorketes,” Oikumene 2 (1978) 163– 175. King, C.J., “Plutarch, Alexander, and Dream Divination,” Illinois Classical Studies 38 (2013) 81–111. Klaerr, R. & Vernière, Y., Plutarque. Œuvres Morales vii.2 (Paris, 1974). Klaerr, R. & Vernière, Y., Plutarque. Œuvres Morales vii (Paris, 1974). Koestermann, E., Cornelius Tacitus. Annalen, Band iv: Buch 14–16 (Heidelberg, 1968). Kokolakis, M., Μορφολογία τῆς Κυβευτικῆς Μεταφορᾶς (Athens, 1965). Kopff, E.C., Euripides. Bacchae (Leipzig, 1982). Krämer, H.J., Der Ursprung der Geistmetaphysik. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Platonismus zwischen Platon und Plotin (Amsterdam, 1964). Krämer, H.J., Platonismus und Hellenistische Philosophie (Berlin, 1971). Krašovec, J., “Plato’s and Plutarch’s Theories of Punishment,” ZAnt 43 (1993) 5–30. Krašovec, J., “Plato’s and Plutarch’s Theories of Punishment,” in idem (ed.), Reward, Punishment, and Forgiveness: The Thinking and Beliefs of Ancient Israel in the Light of Greek and Modern Views (Leiden: Brill, 1999) 715–738. Lane, J.H., The Political Life and Virtue: A Reconsideration of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives (Diss. Boston College, 1998). Lanzi, S., Plutarco, L’invidia e l’odio (Naples, 2004). Larivée, A., “Eros tyrannos: Alcibiades as the Model of the Tyrant in Book ix of the Republic,” ijpt 6 (2012) 1–26. Larmour, D.H.J., “Plutarch’s Compositional Methods in the Theseus and Romulus,” tapa 118 (1988) 361–375. Larmour, D.H.J., “Making Parallels: Synkrisis and Plutarch’s Themistocles and Camillus,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4154–4200. Larmour, D.H.J., “Statesman and Self in the Parallel Lives,” in De Blois et al. (eds.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 43–51.

bibliography

291

Lassell, E., De Fortunae in Plutarchi Operibus Notione (Marburg, 1896). Lasserre, F., “Prose grecque classicisante,” in Flashar (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome, 153– 163. Latte, K., Römische Religionsgeschichte (Munich, 1960; 2nd. ed., 1967). Lattimore, R., Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana, 1942). Latzarus, B., Les idées religieuses de Plutarque (Paris, 1920). Laurenti, R. & Santaniello, C., Plutarco, La superstizione (Naples, 2007). Le Corsu, F., “Cléopatre-Isis,” Bull. Soc. Franç. D’Égyptol. 82 (1978) 22–23. Le Corsu, F., Isis. Son mythe et ses mystères (Paris, 1977). Le Corsu, F., Plutarque et les femmes dans les Vies parallèles (Paris, 1981). Leão Ferreira, D., “Tyche, Kairos et Kronos dans le Phocion de Plutarque,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 183–194. Leão Ferreira, D., “The Eleusinian Mysteries and Political Timing in the Life of Alcibiades,” Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 181–192. Lehmann, G.A., “Dion and Herakleides,” Historia 19 (1970) 401–406. Leroux, F., Inscriptiones Graecae ad Res Romanas Pertinentes (Paris, 1906–1927). Lesage Gárriga, L., “The Light of the Moon: An Active Participant on the Battlefield in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives,” in M. Meeusen & L. Van der Stockt (eds.), Aspects of Plutarch’s Philosophy of Nature (Leuven, 2015) 145–153. Levin, S., “Plutarch’s Part in the Damnatio Memoriae of the Emperor Domitian,” in La Béotie Antique, Lyon and Saint-Étienne, 16–20 mai 1983. Colloques Internationaux du cnrs, Paris (Paris, 1985) 283–290. Levin, S., “The Old Greek Oracles in Decline,” anrw ii.18.2 (1989) 1599–1649. Lévi-Strauss, C., “La structure et la forme,” Cahiers de l’Institut de Science Économique Appliquée 99 (1960) 3–36. Levy, B.E., “Nero’s Apollonia Series: the Achaean Context,” The Numismatic Chronicle 149 (1989) 59–68. Lewis, N., The Interpretation of Dreams and Portents (Toronto, 1975). Li Causi, P., “Granchi, Uomini e Altri Animali: La Genesi Della Violenza Nel de Sollertia Animalium Di Plutarco,” in V. Andò & N. Cusumano (eds.), Come bestie? Forme e paradossi della violenza tra mondo antico e disagio contemporaneo (Mathesis, 4; Caltanissetta: Salvatore Sciascia editore, 2010) 189–208. Liebert, H.P., Between City and Empire: Political Ambition and Political Form in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives (Diss. University of Chicago, 2009). Linder, M., “Plutarch’s use and Mention of Famous Artists in the Parallel Lives,” Ancient society 45 (2015) 53–81. Lindskog, C. & Ziegler, K., rev., K. Ziegler, Plutarchus. Vitae Parallelae i.1 (Leipzig, 1957). Lintott, A.W., Demosthenes and Cicero (Oxford, 2013). Livadaras, N., “L’antisémitisme de Plutarque et le passage Mor. 169e,” Concilium Eirene 16 (1983) 280–285.

292

bibliography

Lloyd, A.B., “Herodotus on Egyptians and Libyans,” in O. Reverdin & B. Grange (eds.), Hérodote et les peuples non grecs, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 35 (Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1990) 215–244. Lloyd, A.B., Herodotus Book ii. Commentary 1–98 (Leiden, 1976). Lloyd, G.E.R., Greek Science after Aristotle (London, 1973). Lo Cascio, F., Plutarco, Il convito dei Sette Sapienti (Naples, 1997). Long, A.A., “Stoic Readings of Homer,” in R. Lamberton & J.J. Keaney (eds.), Homer’s ancient readers: the hermeneutics of Greek epic’s earliest exegetes (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1992) 41–66. Long, A.A., & Sedley, D.N., The Hellenistic Philosophers i. Translations of the Principal Sources, with Philosophical Commentary; ii. Greek and Latin Texts with Notes and Bibliography (Cambridge, 1987). Longoni, V., “Introduzione,” in D. del Corno (ed.), Plutarco. Sull’amore (Milan, 1986). Lozza, G., Plutarco, De superstitione (Milan, 1980). Lucchesi, M.A., “Love Theory and Political Practice in Plutarch: The Amatorius and the Lives of Coriolanus and Alcibiades,” in E. Sanders, C. Thumiger, & N.J. Lowe (eds.), Erôs in Ancient Greece (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013) 209–228. Lundon, J., “P. Köln xiii 499 and the (In)completeness of Plutarch’s Caesar,” zpe 185 (2013) 107–110. Marr, J., Life of Themistocles (Warminster: Aris and Phillips, 1998). McInerney, J., “‘Do You See What i See?’: Plutarch and Pausanias at Delphi,” in De Blois (ed.), The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works, 43–55. McKechnie, P., “Omens of the Death of Alexander the Great,” in P.V. Wheatley & H. Robert (eds.), Alexander & his successors: Essays from the Antipodes. Essays Resulting from the third International Conference on Alexander held at the University of Otago in Dunedin, New Zealand, in 2006 (Claremont (Calif.): Regina Books 2009) 206–226. Maass, M., Das antike Delphi (Munich, 2007). Mackay, B., “Plutarch and the Miraculous,” in C.F.D. Moule (ed.), Miracles. Studies in Their Philosophy and History (London, 1965) 93–113. Mader, G., “Heroism and Hallucination: Cleopatra in Horace c.1.37 and Propertius 3.11,” Grazer Beiträge 16 (1989) 183–201. Magnino, D., Plutarchi Vita Ciceronis (Bibl. di Studi Sup. 44; Florence, 1963). Malaise, M., “La diffusion des cultes égyptiens dans les provinces européennes de l’Empire Romain,” anrw ii.17.3 (1984) 1616–1684. Malaise, M., Les conditions de pénétration et de diffusion des cultes égyptiens en Italie (Leiden, 1972). Manfredini, M., “Codici plutarchei contenenti Vitae e Moralia,” in Gallo et al. (eds.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia, 103–122. Manfredini, M., “La tradizione manoscritta delle Vite,” in O. Andrei (ed.), Demetrio (Milan, 1989), 16–26.

bibliography

293

Manfredini, M., “Codici minori delle Vite,” in A. Pérez Jiménez (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Obra y tradición. Actas del I Symposion Español sobre Plutarco. Fuengirola 1988. Sociedad Española de Plutarquistas (Málaga, 1990) 9–20. Manfredini, M., “Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia 70–77,” in Gallo et al. (eds.), Sulla tradizione manoscritta dei Moralia, 123–138. Manfredini, M., & Piccirilli, L., Le vite di Licurgo e di Numa (Milan, 1980). Manfredini, M. & Piccirilli, L., Plutarco, La vita di Solone (Roma, 1977). Mansfeld, J., “Plato, Pythagoras, Aristotle, the Peripatetics, the Stoics, and Thales and His Followers On Causes: (Ps.-Plutarchus Placita i 11 and Stobaeus Anthologium i 13),” in A. Brancacci (ed.), Antichi e moderni nella filosofia di età imperiale: atti del ii colloquio internazionale Pour les actes du 1er colloque (Naples: Bibliopolis, 2001) 17–68. Mansfeld, J., “Ps. Plutarch / Aëtius Plac. 4.11: Some Comments on Sensation and Concept Formation in Stoic Thought,” Mnemosyne 67 (2014) 613–630. Marasco, G., “Introduzione alla biografia plutarchea di Demetrio,” Sileno 7 (1981) 35–70; 9 (1983) 35–54. Marchese, A., L’officina del racconto. Semiotica della narrativa (Milan, 1983). Marchetti, P., “Autour de Romulus et des Lupercalia: une exploration préliminaire,”lec 70(1–2) (2002) 77–92. Marcovich, M., “Hades as Benefactor: Plutarch, De Iside 362d,” cp 69 (1974) 287–288. Marcovich, M., “Textual Criticism of Plutarch,” Emerita 40 (1972) 157–165. Marcovich, M., Brenk, F.E., Hershbell, J.P., & Stadter, P.A. (eds.), Plutarch. Robert Flacelière In Memoriam, ics 13.2 (Urbana, 1988). Marenghi, G., Plutarco. No all’usura (Naples, 1996). Margagliotta, G.M.A., Il Demone di Socrate nelle interpretazioni di Plutarco e Apuleio (Bautz, 2012). Marione, N., “L’uso del computer per Plutarco,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 139–141. Martano, G. & Tirelli, A., Plutarco, Precetti coniugali (Naples, 1990). Martin, H., “Amatorius (Moralia 748e–771e),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings, 442–537. Martin, H., “Plutarch’s De Sollertia Animalium 959bc: the Discussion of the Encomium of Hunting,” American Journal of Philology 100 (1979) 99–106. Martin, H., “Plutarch, Plato, and Eros,” cb 60 (1984) 82–88. Martin, H., “Plutarch’s De facie: The Recapitulation and the Lost Beginning,” grbs 15 (1974) 73–88. Martin, H., “The Concept of Philanthropia in Plutarch’s Lives,” AJPh 82 (1961) 164–175. Martin, H., “Structure and Interpretation in the Annals of Tacitus,” anrw ii.33.2 (1990) 1501–1581. Martin, H. & Phillips, J.E., “Consolatio ad Uxorem (Moralia 608a–612b),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings, 394–441.

294

bibliography

Martin, H., “Plutarchan Morality: arete, tyche, and Non-consequentialism,” in Roskam & Van der Stockt (eds.), Virtues for the People: Aspects of Plutarchan Ethics, 133–151. Martin, J.-P., “Plutarque: un aspect de sa pensée et de son temps,” in J.-M. Pailler (ed.), Mélanges offerts à Monsieur Michel Labrousse (Toulouse: Service des publications de l’université de Toulouse-Le Mirail, 1986) 59–78. Martínez Maza, C., “La Cristianización de los Démones Mistéricos,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Misticismo y Religiones Mistéricas, 165–177. Mastrocinque, A., “Demetrios tragodoumenos: Propaganda e letteratura al tempo di Demetrio Poliorcete,” Athenaeum 57 (1979) 260–276. Means, T., “Plutarch and the Family of Cato Minor,” cj 69 (1974) 210–215. Méautis, G., “Plutarque et l’Orphisme,” in C. Nicolet, R. Ilbert, & J.-C. Depaule (eds.) Mélanges Gustave Glotz i (Paris, 1932) 575–585. Meier, C.A., “The Dream in Ancient Greece and its Use in Temple Cures,” in G.E. von Grunebaum (ed.), The Dream in Ancient Society (Los Angeles, 1966) 303–319. Melandri, E., “La virtù al femminile,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 173–193. Mellor, R. (ed.), From Augustus to Nero. The First Dynasty of Imperial Rome (East Lansing, 1990). Mendelssohn, L., rev. P. Viereck, Appiani Historia Romana ii, (Leipzig, 1905). Méndez Lloret, M.I., “El Démon: La Inteligencia en El Mundo,” Faventia 15 (1993) 23–38. Merkelbach, R. & M.L. West, Fragmenta Hesiodea (Oxford, 1967). Merkelbach, R., Isisfeste in griechisch-römischer Zeit. Daten und Riten (Meisenheim, 1963). Merlan, P., “The Later Academy and Platonism,” in A.H. Armstrong (ed.), The Cambridge History of Later Greek and Early Medieval Philosophy (Cambridge, 1967) 53–64. Mestre Roca, F., & Gómez Cardó, P., “Tyche e individuo: Ambigüedad de usos en las Vidas Paralelas De Plutarco,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Valori letterari di Plutarco, 295–305. Meyer, J.C., “Omens, Prophecies and Oracles in Ancient Decision-making,” in J.E. Skydsgaard & K. Ascani (eds.), Ancient History Matters: Studies presented to J.E. Skydsgaard (Rome, 2002) 173–183. Miano, D., “Tychai of Timoleon and Servius Tullius: a Hypothesis on the Sources,” asnp 4 (2012) 365–378. Mignucci, M., “The Liar Paradox and the Stoics,” in K. Ierodiakonou (ed.), Topics in Stoic Philosophy (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press, 1999) 54–70. Millar, F., “Discussion,” in W. den Boer (ed.), Le culte des souverains (VandœuvresGeneva, 1973) 207. Mitsis, P.T., “Natural Law and Natural Right in Post-Aristotelian Philosophy: the Stoics and their Critics,” anrw ii.36.7 (1994) 4812–4850.

bibliography

295

Moellering, H., Plutarch on Superstition (Boston, 1963). Mohr, R., “The World-Soul in Platonic Cosmology,” ics 7 (1982) 41–49. Moles, J.L., The Life of Cicero (Warminster, Wiltshire 1988). Moles, J.L., “Fate, Apollo and M. Junius Brutus,” AJPh 104 (1983) 249–256. Momigliano, A., The Development of Greek Biography (Cambridge, Mass. 1971). Monaco, M., “The bema and the Stage: Stratocles and Philippides in Plutarch’s Demetrius,” ics 38 (2013) 113–126. Monaco, M., “Folly and Dark Humor in the Life of Demetrius,” Ploutarchos 9 (2011–2012) 49–59. Montes Cala, J.G., Sánchez Ortiz De Landaluce, M., & Gallé Cejudo, R.J. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el vino: actas del vi simposio español sobre Plutarco (Cádiz, 14–16 de mayo de 1998) (Cádiz, 1999). Moorhead, S., & Stuttart, D., 31 v. Chr.: Antonius, Kleopatra und der Fall Ägyptens (Stuttgart, 2012). Moraux, P., Der Aristotelismus bei den Griechen. Von Andronikos bis Alexander von Aphrodisias. i. Die Renaissance des Aristotelismus im i. Jh. v. Chr. (Berlin, 1973). Morenz, S., “Ägypten und die altorphische Kosmogonie,” in S. Morenz (ed.), Aus Antike und Orient (Leipzig, 1950) 64–111 (= idem, in E. Blumethal, S. Herrmann, & A. Onasch [eds.], Religion und Geschichte des alten Ägypten. Gesammelte Aufsätze [Cologne and Vienna, 1975] 452–495). Moreschini, C., Plutarco, L’E di Delfi (Naples, 1997). Moretti, L., Iscrizioni storiche ellenistiche (Florence, 1975). Morford, M., “Tacitus’ Historical Methods in the Neronian Books of the Annals,” anrw ii.33.2 (1990) 1582–1627. Morgan, J.R., “A Sense of the Ending: The Conclusion of Heliodoros’ Aithiopika,” tapa 119 (1989) 299–320. Mosconi, G., “Pericle, la guerra, la democrazia e il buon uso del corpo del cittadino,” MediterrAnt 17 (2014) 51–86. Mossé, C., “Le procès de Phocion,” Dike 1 (1998) 79–85. Mossman, J.M., “Tragedy and Epic in Plutarch’s Alexander,” jhs 108 (1988) 83–93. Mossman, J.M., “Plutarch on Animals: Rhetorical Strategies in de Sollertia Animalium,” Hermathena 179 (2005) 141–163. Mossman, J.M., “A Life Unparalleled: Artaxerxes,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 145– 168. Mossman, J.M., “Travel Writing, History, and Biography,” in B. McGing & J. Mossman (eds.), The Limits of Ancient Biography (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2006) 281– 303. Most, G.W., “The Stranger’s Stratagem: Self-Disclosure and Self-Sufficiency in Greek Culture,” jhs 109 (1989) 114–133. Müller, A., “Dialogic Structures and Forms of Knowledge in Plutarch’s The e at Delphi,” shps 43(2) (2012) 245–249.

296

bibliography

Müller, G., “Erzählzeit und erzählte Zeit,” in P. Kluckhohn & H. Schneide (eds.), Festschrift für Paul Kluckhohn und Hermann Schneider zu ihrem 60. Geburtstag gewidmet (Tübingen, 1948) 195–212 (= idem, in E. Müller (ed.), Morphologische Poetik. Gesammelte Aufsätze, [Tübingen, 1968] 269–286). Musti, D., “Protagonismo e forma politica nella città greca,” in A. Ceresa-Gastaldo (ed.), Il protagonismo nella storiografia classica (Dipartimento di Archeologia, Filologia Classica e Loro Tradizioni, 108; Genoa 1987) 9–36. Nasel, V. et al., “Nouveaux fragments d’un papyrus de la Vie de César de Plutarque (p. Gen. inv. 477 et 504),” mh 70 (2013) 10–15. Nauck, A., Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (Leipzig, 2nd ed., 1889; rpt. with Supplementum. B. Schnell [ed.], Hildesheim, 1964). Nawotka, K.D., “Persia, Alexander the Great and the kingdom of Asia,” Klio 94 (2012) 348–356. Nerdahl, M., Homeric Models in Plutarch’s Lives (Diss., University of Wisconsin Madison, 2007). Nerdahl, M., “Flattery and Platonic Philosophy: The Limits of Education in Plutarch’s Life of Dion,” cw 104 (2011) 295–309. Nesselrath, H.-G. (ed.), Plutarch On the Daimon of Socrates. Human Liberation, Divine Guidance and Philosophy (Tübingen, 2010). Netwell, E.T., The Coinages of Demetrius Poliorcetes (London, 1927). Nevin, S., “Negative Comparison: Agamemnon and Alexander in Plutarch’s Agesilaus— Pompey,” grbs 54 (2014) 45–68. Newmyer, S.T., “Speaking of Beasts: The Stoics and Plutarch on Animal Reason and the Modern Case Against Animals,” Quaderni urbinati di cultura classica 63 (1999) 99– 110. Nicoll, W.S.M., “The Sacrifice of Palinurus,” cq n.s. 38 (1988) 459–472. Nikolaïdis, A.G., “Plutarch’s Methods: His Cross-references and the Sequence of the Parallel Lives,” in Pérez Jiménez & Titchener (eds.), Historical and Biographical Values of Plutarch’s Works, 283–323. Nikolaïdis, A.G. (ed.), The Unity of Plutarch’s Work: Moralia Themes in the Lives. Features of the Lives in the Moralia (Berlin; New York: de Gruyter, 2008). Nilsson, M.P., Geschichte der griechischen Religion. i. Die Religion Griechenlands bis auf die griechische Weltherrschaft, Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft v 2,1 (Munich, 1956). Nisbet, R.G.M., “Elegiacs by Gallus from Qaṣr Ibrîm,” jrs 69 (1979) 125–155. Nissinen, M., “Prophecy and Omen Divination: Two Sides of the Same Coin,” Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation of Signs, 341–351. Nitzsch, G.G., De Plutarcho Theologo et Philosopho Populari (Kiel, 1849). Norden, E., Die antike Kunstprosa. Vom vi. Jahrhundert v. Chr. bis in die Zeit der Renaissance (2nd ed., Berlin, 1915).

bibliography

297

Novara, A., “Rude saeculum que l’âge d’or selon Sénèque (d’après Ad Lucil. 90, 44–46),” Bulletin Budé (1988) 129–139. Oakesmith, J., The Religion of Plutarch (London, 1902). O’Brien, D., “Empedocles: The Wandering Daimon and the Two Poems,” Aevum Antiquum 11 (2001) 79–179. Olster, D., “Why the oracles do not speak (like before): Plutarch and the Riddle of Second-Century Religion,” Ploutarchos 22 (2005) 55–70. Opsomer, J., “Quelques réflexions sur la notion de Providence chez Plutarque,” in C. Schrader, V. Ramón & J. Vela (eds.), Plutarco y la historia (Zaragoza, 1997) 343– 356. Opsomer, J. & & Steel, C., “Evil without a Cause. Proclus’ Doctrine on the Origin of Evil, and its Antecedents in Hellenistic Philosophy,” in T. Fuhrer & M. Erler (eds.), Zur Rezeption der hellenistischen Philosophie in der Spätantike (Stuttgart, 1999) 229– 260. Opsomer, J., “M. Annius Ammonius, a Philosophical Profile,” M. Bonazzi & J. Opsomer (eds.), The Origins of the Platonic System: Platonisms of the Early Empire and their Philosophical Contexts (Collection d’Études Classiques 23; Louvain/Namur/Paris/ Walpole, ma: Éditions Peeters; Société des Études Classiques, 2009) 123–186. Orsi, D.P., “Le pere di Catone l’Uticense: (Plutarco, Cato Minor 46,4),” aflb 54–55 (2011– 2012) 75–76. Oster, R.E., “Ephesus as a Religious Center under the Principate: i. Paganism before Constantine,” anrw ii.18.3 (1990) 1661–1728. Pade, M., “‘I give you back Plutarch in Latin’: Guarino Veronese’s version of Plutarch’s Dion (1414) and Early Humanist Translation,” crcl 41 (2014) 354–368. Pailler, J.M., Bacchanalia. La répression de 186 av. J.-C. à Rome et en Italie (Bibliothèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 270, 1988). Palmer, R., Roman Religion and Roman Empire. Five Essays (Philadelphia, 1974). Parke, H.W. & Wormell, D.E.W., The Delphic Oracle (Oxford, 1956). Parker, R., “Festivals of the Attic Demes,” in T. Linders & G. Nordquist (eds.), Gifts to the Gods (Uppsala Studies in Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Civilizations 15; Uppsala, 1987) 137–147. Paton, W.R. & Hicks, E.L., The Inscriptions of Cos (Oxford, 1891). Paton, W.R., Pohlenz, M., Sieveking, W., & Wegehaupt, I. (eds.), Plutarchi Moralia iii (Leipzig, 1929, rpt. Stuttgart, 1972). Payen, P., “Sertorius et l’Occident dans les Vies parallèles de Plutarque: acculturation et contraintes narratives,” Pallas 60 (2002) 93–115. Pearce, T.E.V., “The Tomb by the Sea: History of a Motif,” Latomus 42 (1983) 110–115. Pearson, L. & Sandbach, F.H., Plutarch, Moralia, xi (London and Cambridge, Mass., 1965). Pelling, C.B.R., “Plutarch’s Method of Work in the Roman Lives,” jhs 99 (1979) 74–96.

298

bibliography

Pelling, C.B.R., “Plutarch’s Adaptation of His Source Material,” jhs 100 (1980) 127–140. Pelling, C.B.R., Review of B. Scardigli, Die Römerbiographien Plutarchs. Ein Forschungsbericht (Munich, 1979), jrs 72 (1982) 216–217. Pelling, C.B.R., “Notes on Plutarch’s Caesar,” Rh. m. 127 (1984) 33–45. Pelling, C.B.R., “Plutarch and Catiline,” Hermes 113 (1985) 311–329. Pelling, C.B.R., “Synkrisis in Plutarch’s Lives,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 83–96. Pelling, C.B.R., Plutarch, Life of Antony (Oxford, 1988). Pelling, C.B.R., “Plutarch: Roman Heroes and Greek Culture,” in M. Griffin & J. Barnes (eds.), Philosophia Togata (Oxford, 1989) 199–232. Pelling, C.B.R., “Aspects of Plutarch’s Characterization,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 257–274. Pelling, C.B.R., “Childhood and Personality in Greek Biography,” in C.B.R. Pelling (ed.), Characterization and Individuality in Greek Literature (Oxford, 1990) 213–244. Pelling, C.B.R., “Is Death the End?: Closure in Plutarch’s Lives,” in D. Roberts, F.M. Dunn & D. Fowler (eds.), Classical Closure: Endings in Ancient Literature (Princeton, 1997) 228–250. Pelling, C.B.R., “Tragical Dreamer: Some Dreams in the Roman Historians,” Greece and Rome 44 (1997) 197–213. Pelling, C.B.R., “Dionysiac Diagnostics: Some Hints of Dionysus in Plutarch’s Lives,” in Montes Cala et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el vino, 359–368. Pelling, C.B.R., “Making Myth look Like History: Plato in Plutarch’s Theseus-Romulus,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 431–443. Pelling, C.B.R., “Parallel Narratives: the Liberation of Thebes in De Genio Socratis and in Pelopidas,” Nikolaïdis (ed.), The Unity of Plutarch’s Work, 539–556. Pelling, C.B.R., “With Thousand such Enchanting Dreams: The Dreams of the Lives Revisited,” in Van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 315–331. Pelling, C.B.R., “Plutarch’s Tale of Two Cities: Do the Parallel Lives Combine as Global Histories?,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s lives, 217–235. Pépin, J., Mythe et Allégorie. Les Origines grecques et les contestations Judéo-Chrétiennes (Paris, 1958). Pérez Jiménez, A., “Actitudes del hombre frente a la Tyche en las Vidas paralelas de Plutarco,” Bol. del Inst. Helen. 7 (1973) 101–110. Pérez Jiménez, A., “Ciencia, religión y literatura en el ‘Mito De Sila’ de Plutarco,” in Brioso Sánchez & González Ponce (eds.), Actitudes Literarias, 283–294. Pérez Jiménez, A., “Exemplum: The Paradigmatic Education of the Ruler in the Lives of Plutarch,” in Stadter & Van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor, 105–114. Pérez Jiménez, A., “En las Praderas De Hades: imágenes, metáforas y experiencias escatológicas de las almas buenas en Plu., De Facie 943c–e,” in Van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 333–343.

bibliography

299

Pérez Jiménez A., “La Providencia como salvaguarda de los proyectos históricos humanos en las Vidas Paralelas,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 169–182. Pérez Jiménez, A. & Cruz Andreotti, G. (eds.), Seres Intermedios. Ángeles, Demonios y Genios en el Mundo Mediterráneo (Mediterranea 7; Madrid and Málaga, 2000 [2001]). Pérez Jiménez, A. & Casadesús Bordoy, F. (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco, Misticismo y Religiones Mistéricas en la Obra de Plutarco: Actas Del vii Simposio Español Sobre Plutarco: Palma De Mallorca, 2–4 De Noviembre De 2000 (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 2001) 131–141. Pérez Jiménez, A., et al. (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco: studi offerti al professore Italo Gallo dall’International Plutarch Society (Málaga: Universidad de Málaga; Logan (Utah): Utah State University, 2005). Pérez Jiménez, A., García López, J., & Aguilar Fernández, R.M. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles: actas del v Congreso Internacional de la i.p.s. (Madrid-Cuenca, 4–7 de mayo de 1999) (Madrid, 1999). Pérez Jiménez, A., & Titchener, F.B. (eds.), Historical and Biographical Values of Plutarch’s Works (Málaga: Universidad de Málaga; Logan (Utah): Utah State University, 2005). Perrin, B., Plutarch’s Lives ii (London, 1914). Pettine, E., La tranquillità dell’animo di Plutarco (Salerno, 1984). Pettine, E., Plutarco, L’avidità di ricchezze (De cupiditate divitiarum) (Salerno, 1986). Pettine, E., Plutarco, La loquacità (Naples, 1993). Phillips, E.D., “Plutarque, interprête de Zoroastre,” in Association Guillaume Budé (ed.), Actes du viiie Congrès (Paris, 1969) 506–511. Picard, C., Éphèse et Claros. Recherches sur les sanctuaires et les cultes de l’Ionie du Nord (Bibliotèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 123; Paris, 1922). Piccirilli, L., “Temistocle εὐργέτης dei Corciresi,” asnp 3 (1973) 317–355. Piccirilli, L., Gli arbitrati interstatali greci i. Dalle origini al 338 a.C. (Pisa, 1973). Pinnoy, M., Aristotelisme en Antistoicisme in Plutarchus De virtute morali (Diss. unpublished, Louvain, 1956). Pinnoy, M., De peripatetische Thema in Plutarchus De Virtute Morali (Louvain, 1968). Pizzagalli, A.M., “Plutarco e il cristianismo,” Atene e Roma 10 (1943) 97–102. Podlecki, A.J., “Plutarch and Athens,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 231–243. Podlecki, A.J., The Life of Themistocles (Montreal, 1975). Pohl, J.K., Die Dämonologie des Plutarch (Progr. des Kathol. Gymn. Breslau, 1860). Pohlenz, M., “Review of G. Soury, La démonologie de Plutarque. Essai sur les idées religieuses et les mythes d’un platonicien éclectique (Paris, 1942),” Gnomon 21 (1949) 350. Pohlenz, M., Vom Zorne Gottes (Göttingen, 1909). Pollitt, J.J., Art in the Hellenistic Age (Cambridge, 1986).

300

bibliography

Polzin, R.M., Biblical Structuralism: Method and Subjectivity in the Study of Ancient Texts (Semeia Supplements 5; Philadelphia, 1977). Porter, W.H., The Life of Dion (Dublin, 1952). Post, L.A., “Dramatic Uses of the Greek Imperative,” ajp 59 (1938) 30–59. Postiglione, A., Plutarco, L’amore fraterno, L’amore per i figli (Naples, 1991). Pouillon, J., Temps et roman (La Jeune Philosophie 3; Paris, 1946). Price, S.F., “Gods and Emperors: The Greek Language of the Roman Imperial Cult,” jhs 104 (1984) 79–95. Price, S.F., Rituals and Power. The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1984). Prince, G., Narratology. The Form and Functioning of Narrative (Janua Linguarum 108; Berlin, 1982). Propp, V., Morphologie du conte russe (Paris, 1966). Pugliatti, P., Lo sguardo nel racconto. Teorie e prassi del punto di vista (Critica Letteraria Contemporanea 3; Bologna, 1985). Rademacher, L., Mythos und Sage bei den Griechen (Munich, 1938; 2nd. ed., 1943; reprint, Darmstadt, 1968). Raditsa, L., “Julius Caesar and his Writings,” anrw i.3 (1973) 417–456. Raeymaekers, J., “The Origins of the Rivalry between Philopoemen and Flamininus,” AncSoc 27 (1996) 259–276. Rasmussen, S.W., Public Portents in Republican Rome (Rome, 2003). Raubitschek, A.E., “Phaidros and his Roman Pupils,” Hesperia 18 (1949) 96–103. Redfield, J.M., Nature and Culture in the Iliad. The Tragedy of Hector (Chicago, 1975). Reinhold, M., From Republic to Principate. An Historical Commentary on Cassius Dio’s Roman History Books 49–52 (36–29bc) (American Philological Association Monograph Series 34; Atlanta, 1988). Renato, L. & G. Indelli, Plutarco, Sul controllo dell’ira (Naples, 1998). Rescigno, A., Plutarco, L’eclissi degli oracoli (Naples, 1995). Reynolds, J., “New Evidence for the Imperial Cult in Julio-Claudian Aphrodisias,” zpe 43 (1981) 317–327. Ribeiro Ferreira, J., Van der Stockt, L. & Fialho, M. do C. (eds.), Philosophy in Society: Virtues and Values in Plutarch (Coimbra: Imprensa da Universidade 2008). Ricœur, P., Time and Narrative iii (Chicago, 1988) (= idem, Temps et récit iii [Paris, 1985]). Ridley, R.T., History of Rome. A Documented Analysis (Problemi e Ricerche di Storia Antica 8; Rome, 1987). Riley, M., “The Purpose and Unity of Plutarch’s De genio Socratis,” grbs 18 (1977) 257– 273. Roberts, A., Mark Antony. His Life and Times (Upton-upon-Severn, 1988). Robinson, T.M., Plato’s Psychology (Toronto, 1970).

bibliography

301

Rodríguez Alonso, C., “Tyche y Areté en el proceso histórico de Roma según Plutarco,” in M. García Valdés (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: ideas religiosas. Actas del iii Simposio Español sobre Plutarco (Madrid, 1994), 447–453. Rodríguez Moreno, I., “Reflexiones sobre un aspecto religioso de Plutarco de Queronea: la demonología,” in Montes Cala et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y El Vino, 423–432. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch of Chaeronea and the Gnostic Worldview: Middle Platonism and the Nag Hammadi Library,” in J.M. Candau Morón, F.J. González Ponce & A.L. Chávez Reino (eds.), Plutarco como Transmisor. Actas del Simposio internacional de la sociedad española de Plutarquistas. Sevilla, 12–14 de noviembre de 2009 (Seville: Secr. De Publicaciones de la Universidad de Sevilla, 2011) 401–417. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch at the Crossroads of Religion and Philosophy,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 1–21. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Religious and Philosophical Context of Late Antiquity,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 137–150. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Dios como Padre y artífice en Moralia de Plutarco,” in P. de Navascués, M. Crespo, A. Sáez (eds.), Filiación. Cultura pagana, religión de Israel, orígenes del cristianismo, v (Madrid, 2013) 139–156. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch’s Anthropology and its Influence on His Cosmological Framework,” in M. Meeussen & L. Van der Stock (eds.), Aspects of Plutarch’s Natural Philosophy (Plutarchea Hypomnemata; Leuven, 2015) 179–195. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch and the Image of the Sleeping and Waking Soul,” in S. Amendola, G. Pace & P. Volpe Cacciatore (eds.), Immagini letterarie e iconografia nelle opere di Plutarco (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 2017) 209–222. Roig Lanzillotta, L., & Muñoz Gallarte, I. (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012). Rollins, W.G., De Pythiae oraculis (Moralia 394d–409d), in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 103–130. Rose, H.J., “Euhemerus,” ocd (1970) 414–415. Rose, H.J., The Greek Questions of Plutarch (Oxford, 1928). Rose, H.J., The Roman Questions of Plutarch (Oxford, 1924). Rosenberger, V., Divination in the Ancient World: Religious Options and the Individual (Stuttgart, 2013). Rosenmeyer, T.G., deina ta polla. A Classicist’s Checklist of Twenty Literary-Critical Positions (Arerhusa Monographs 12; Buffalo, 1988). Roskam, G., “Socrates’ δαιμόνιον in Maximus of Tyre, Apuleius, and Plutarch,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 93–108. Roskam, G., “A Παιδεία for the Ruler: Plutarch’s Dream of Collaboration between Philosopher and Ruler,” in Stadter & Van der Stockt (eds.), Sage and Emperor, 175–189.

302

bibliography

Roskam, G., On the Path to Virtue: The Stoic Doctrine of Moral Progress and its Reception in (Middle-)Platonism (Leuven: Leuven University Pr, 2005). Roskam, G., “Socrates and Alcibiades: a notorious σκάνδαλον in the later Platonist tradition,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 85–100. Roskam, G., & Van der Stockt, L. (eds.), Virtues for the people: aspects of Plutarchan ethics. Essays originally presented at an international conference at Delphi in September 2004 (Leuven: Leuven University Pr. 2011). Roulet, A., The Egyptian and Egyptianizing Monuments of Imperial Rome (Leiden, 1972). Roveri, A., “Tyche bei Polybios,” in K. Stiewe & N. Holzberg (eds.), Polybios (Darmstadt, 1982) 297–326. Runia, D.T., & International Philo Bibliography Project, Philo of Alexandria: An Annotated Bibliography 1997–2006 with Addenda for 1987–1996 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). Russell, D.A., “Classicizing Rhetoric and Criticism: The Pseudo-Dionysian Exetasis and Mistakes in Declamation,” in Flashar (ed.), Le classicisme à Rome, 113–130. Russell, D.A., “On Reading Plutarch’s Moralia,” Greece and Rome 15 (1968) 130–146. Russell, D.A., Plutarch (London, 1973). Rutherford, W.G., The New Phrynichus. Revised Text of the Ecloga of the Grammarian Phrynichus (London, 1881). Sacco, C. (ed.), Iscrizioni greche d’Italia 1. Porto (Unione Accademica Nazionale; Rome, 1984). Sacks, K., Polybius on the Writing of History (Berkeley, 1981). Sage, M.M., “Tacitus’ Historical Works: A Survey and Appraisal,” anrw ii.32.2 (1990) 851–1030 and 1629–1647. Samuel, A.E., The Shifting Sands of History: Interpretations of Ptolemaic Egypt (Publications of the Association of Ancient Historians 2; Lanham, Maryland and London, 1990). Sánchez Vendramini, D.N., “Morte de Aemilius Paullus em Cana: fazendo de herói um general derrotado (Polybius 3.112–117),” Classica (Brasil) 27 (2014) 185–196. Sandbach, F.H., “Rhythm and Authenticity in Plutarch’s Moralia,” cq 33 (1939) 194–203. Sandbach, F.H., Plutarch’s Moralia vii (Leipzig, 1967). Sandbach, F.H., Plutarch’s Moralia xv (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1969). Sandbach, F.H., Menandri Reliquiae Selectae (Oxford, 1972). Sandbach, F.H., The Stoics (London, 1975). Sandbach, F.H., “Plutarch and Aristotle,” ics 7 (1982) 207–232. Sandbach, F.H., Aristotle and the Stoics (Cambridge, 1985). Sansone, D., “Atticus, Suetonius and Nero’s Ancestors,” in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History iv (Collection Latomus 196; Brussels, 1986) 269– 278. Sansone, D., “Agesilaus and the Case of the Lame Dancer,” ics 37 (2012) 75–96.

bibliography

303

Santaniello, C., Plutarco, Detti dei Lacedemoni: Apophtegmata laconica, Instituta laconica, Lacaenarum apophtegmata (Naples, 1995). Santaniello, C., “Aspetti della demonologia plutarchea: tra il De defectu oraculorum e altri scritti del Corpus,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 257–372. Santaniello, C., “Faults Committed beyond This Life: Pindar and Empedocles in Plutarch’s Demonology,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios Sobre Plutarco: Misticismo y Religiones Mistéricas, 255–268. Saunders, T.J., “Penology and Eschatology in Plato’s Timaeus and Laws,” cq 23 (1973) 232–244. Saunders, T.J. “Plutarch’s De sera numinis vindicta in the tradition of Greek penology,” in O. Diliberto (ed.) Il problema della pena criminale fra filosofia greca e diritto romano (Actes du deuxième colloque de philosophie penale, Cagliari, 20–22 Aprile 1989) (Naples, 1991–1992) 63–94. Saylor, C., “Funeral Games: The Significance of Games in the Cena Trimalchionis,” Latomus 46 (1987) 593–602. Scannapieco R., “I doni di Zeus, il dono di Prometeo. Strutture retoriche ed istanze etico-politiche nella riflessione plutarchea sulla τύχη,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 207–238. Scarcella, A.M., Caiazza, A., Chirico, I., & Braccini, T., Plutarco, Conversazioni a tavola (Naples, 2001). Scardigli, B., “Echi di atteggiamenti pro e contro Mario in Plutarco,” cs 14 (1977) 185–253. Scardigli, B., “Scritti recenti sulle Vite di Plutarco (1974–1986),” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 7–59. Scardigli, B., Die Römerbiographien Plutarchs. Ein Forschungsbericht (Munich, 1979). Scheid, J., “Le thiase du Metropolitan Museum (igur 1160),” in L’Association dionysiaque dans les societés anciennes (Collection de l’École Française de Rome 89; Paris, 1986) 275–290. Schaefer, W., Der Gottesbegriff Plutarchs im Lichte der christlichen Weltanschauung (Regensburg, 1908). Schepens, G., “Plutarch’s View of Ancient Rome: Some Remarks on the Life of Pyrrhus,” in L. Mooren (ed.), Politics, Administration and Society in the Hellenistic and Roman World (Leuven: Peeters, 2000) 349–364. Shipley, D.R., A Commentary on Plutarch’s Life of Agesilaos: Response to Sources in the Presentation of Character (Oxford / New York: Oxford University Pr, 1997). Schlotthaus, W., “Conditioning Factors of Textual Understanding,” in D. Meutsch & R. Viehoff (eds.), Comprehension of Literary Discourse. Results and Problems of Interdisciplinary Approaches (Research in Text Theory/Untersuchungen zur Texttheorie 13; Berlin and New York, 1989) 74–88. Schmertosch, R., De Plutarchi Sententiarum Quae ad Divinationem Spectant Origine (Leipzig, 1889).

304

bibliography

Schmid, W., Der Atticismus in seinen Hauptvertretern. Von Dionysius von Halikarnass bis auf den zweiten Philostrarus (Stuttgart, 1897). Schneider, C., Kulturgeschichte des Hellenismus i (Munich, 1967). Scholes, R. & Kellogg, R., The Nature of Narrative (New York, 1966). Scholes, R., Structuralism in Literature. An Introduction (New Haven, 1974). Schotlaender, R., “Plutarch als praktischer Philosoph,” azp 4 (1979) 40–55. Schrader, C., Ramón, V. & Vela, J. (eds.), Plutarco y la historia (Zaragoza, 1997). Schreiter, T., De Doctrina Plutarchi Theologica et Morali (Leipzig, 1838). Schropp, J.W.G., “Der zweite Kaiser oder ein zweiter Caesar: Überlegungen zu Plu. Numa 19.6 und App. Ill. 13.39,” Mnemosyne 68 (2015) 1003–1007. Schubert, C., “Die Method der Atthidographen: die Kleidemos-Fragmente in der Theseus-Vita des Plutarch,” Mnemosyne 67 (2014) 930–952. Scott, K., “Plutarch and the Ruler Cult,” tapa 60 (1929) 117–135. Scott, K., “The Deification of Demetrios Poliorcetes,” AJPh 49 (1928) 137–166, 217– 239. Scott, K., “The Political Propaganda of 44–30 bc,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 11 (1933) 7–50. Scott, M., Delphi: a History of the Center of the Ancient World (Oxford, 2014). Scuderi, R., Commento a Plutarco. Vita di Antonio (Publicazioni della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia dell’Università di Pavia 33; Florence, 1984). Seaford, R.A.S., “The Tragic Wedding,” jhs 107 (1987) 106–130. Seel, O., “Zu Plutarchs Schrift De Latenter Vivendo,” in R. Hanslik, A. Lesky, & H. Schwabl (eds.), Antidosis. Festschrift fur Walter Kraus zum 70. Geburtstag (Wiener Studien Beih. 5; Vienna, 1972) 357–380. Segal, C., Dionysiac Poetics and Euripides’ Bacchae (Princeton, 1982). Segal, C., Tragedy and Civilization. An Interpretation of Sophocles (Martin Classical Lectures 26; Cambridge, Mass., 1981) 105–107. Segre, C., Introduction to the Analysis of a Literary Text (Bloomington, 1988) (= idem, Avviamento all’analisi del testo letterario [Turin, 1985]). Segre, C., Structures and Time. Narration, Poetry, Models (Chicago, 1979) (= idem, Le strutture e il tempo. Narrazione, poesia, modelli [Turin, 1974]). Seillière, E., “La religion de Plutarque,” Séances et Travaux de l’Académie des Sciences Morales 181 (1921) 422–434. Senzasono, L., Plutarco, Cause dei fenomeni naturali (Naples, 2006). Senzasono, L., Plutarco, Precetti igienici (Naples, 1992). Setaioli, A., “Plutarch and Pindar’s Eschatology,” in Van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 397–405. Sfameni Gasparro, G., “Daimôn and tuchê in the Hellenistic religious experience,” in P. Bilde (ed.), Conventional Values of the Hellenistic Greeks (1997) 67–109. Sfameni Gasparro, G., “Tra δεισιδαιμονία e ἀθεότης: I percorsi della religione filosofica di

bibliography

305

Plutarco,” in Pérez Jiménez & Titchener (eds.), Valori letterari delle opere di Plutarco, 163–183. Shearman, J., Mannerism, Style and Civilization (Harmondsworth, 1967). Sherwin-White, A.N., The Letters of Pliny (Oxford, 1966). Silva Sánchez, T., “Ribetes Paradoxográficos en De Sollertia Animalium de Plutarco,” in Montes Cala et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el Vino, 471–479. Silva Sánchez, T., “Sobre El Monólogo de Fédimo en De sollertia animalium,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Misticismo y Religiones Mistéricas, 565–577. Simms, L.J., Plutarch’s Knowledge of Rome (Diss. Univ. of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, 1974). Simon, E., Plutarque, Vies, xvi. Index des Noms Propres (Paris, 1983). Ska, J.L., Our Fathers Have Told Us. Introduction to the Analysis of Hebrew Narratives, Subsidia Biblica 13 (Rome, 1990). Slater, W.J., “Sympotic Ethics in the Odyssey,” in O. Murray (ed.), Sympotika. A Symposium on the Symposion (Oxford, 1990). Smallwood, E.M., Documents Illustrating The Principates of Gaius, Claudius and Nero (Cambridge, 1967). Smith, G.T., The Importance of Miracle in the Religious Truth of Plutarch of Chaeronea (Diss. New York University, New York, 1972). Smith, M., “De superstitione, (Moralia 164e–171f),” in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 1–8. Solmsen, F., Plato’s Theology (Ithaca, New York, 1942). Sorabji, R., Matter, Space and Motion. Theories in Antiquity and Their Sequel (Ithaca, 1988). Sorabji, R., Time, Creation and the Continuum. Theories in Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (London, 1983). Soury, G., “Les questions de table et la philosophie religieuse de Plutarque,”reg 62 (1949) 320–327. Soury, G., La démonologie de Plutarque. Essai sur les idées religieuses et les mythes d’un platonicien éclectique (Paris, 1942). Späth, T., “Erzählt, erfunden: Camillus,” in M. Coudry & T. Späth (eds.), L’invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique (Paris, 2003) 341–412. Stadter, P.A., “Thucydidean Orators in Plutarch,” in P.A. Stadter (ed.), The Speeches in Thucydides. A Collection of Original Studies with a Bibliography (Chapel Hill, 1973) 109–123. Stadter, P.A., “Plutarch’s Comparison of Pericles and Fabius Maximus,” grbs 16 (1975) 77–85. Stadter, P.A., “The Proems of Plutarch’s Lives,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 275– 295.

306

bibliography

Stadter, P.A., A Commentary on Plutarch’s Pericles (Chapel Hill, 1989). Stadter, P.A., “Plato in Plutarch’s Lives of Lycurgus and Agesilaus,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 475–486. Stadter, P.A., “Φιλόσοφος και φίλανδρος: Plutarch’s View of Women in the Moralia and the Lives,” in S.B. Pomeroy (ed.), Plutarch’s Advice to the Bride and Groom and A Consolation to His Wife: English Translations, Commentary, Interpretive Essays, and Bibliography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) 173–182. Stadter, P.A., “Plutarch: Diplomat for Delphi?,” The Statesman in Plutarch’s Works 1, 19– 31. Stadter, P.A., “Parallels in three dimensions,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 197–216. Stadter, P.A., “Plutarch’s Compositional Technique: The Anecdote Collections and the Parallel Lives,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 54 (2014) 665–686. Stadter, P.A., & Van der Stockt, L. (eds.), Sage and Emperor Plutarch, Greek Intellectuals, and Roman Power in the Time of Trajan (98–117a.d.) (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002). Stambaugh, J., Sarapis under the Early Ptolemies (Leiden, 1972). Sternberg, M., The Poetics of Biblical Narrative. Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Indiana Literary Biblical Series 1; Bloomington, 1985). Steup, J. & Classen, J., Thukydides i (5th ed.; Berlin, 1919). Suárez de la Torre, E., “Dioniso y El Dionisismo en Plutarco,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 29–55. Sullivan, J.P., Literature and Politics in the Age of Nero (Ithaca, 1985). Sutherland, C.H.V. & Carson, R.A.G. (eds.), The Roman Imperial Coinage i (2nd ed.; London, 1984). Swain, S.C.R., “Character Change in Plutarch,” Phoenix 43 (1989) 61–68. Swain, S.C.R., “Plutarch: Chance, Providence, and History,” AJPh 110 (1989) 272–302. Swain, S.C.R., “Plutarch’s De fortuna Romanorum,” cq 39 (1989) 504–516. Swain, S.C.R., “Cultural Interchange in Plutarch’s Antony,” quuc 34 (1990) 151–157. Swain, S.C.R., “Hellenic Culture and the Roman Heroes of Plutarch,” jhs 110 (1990) 126– 145. Swain, S.C.R., “Plutarch’s Lives of Cicero, Cato, and Brutus,” Hermes, 118 (1990) 192–203. Swain, S.C.R., “Plutarch’s Philopoemen and Flamininus,” in Marcovich et al. (eds.), Plutarch, 335–347. Swain, S.C.R., “Plutarch’s Aemilius and Timoleon,” Historia 38 (1989) 314–334. Swain, S.C.R., “Plutarch: Chance, Providence and History,” AJPh 110 (1989) 272–302. Swain, S.C.R. “Plutarch, Hadrian, and Delphi,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte = Revue D’Histoire Ancienne 40 (1991) 318–330. Sydenham, E.A., The Coinage of the Roman Republic (revised by G.C. Haines et al.; London, 1952). Syme, R., Tacitus ii (Oxford, 1952).

bibliography

307

Szydelski, S., “The Divinity According to Plutarch,” Rocz. i Teol. Kanon. 7 (1960) 93–101 (in Polish). Taillardat, J., “Comica,” reg 64 (1951) 4–9. Tansey, P., “A note on the Repulsae of L. Aemilius Paullus (cos. 182, 168),” Athenaeum 99 (2011) 185–188. Tatum, W.J., “Another Look at Tyche in Plutarch’s Aemilius Paullus—Timoleon,”Historia: Zeitschrift Für Alte Geschichte = Revue D’Histoire Ancienne 59 (2010) 448–461. Tatum, W.J., “Antiquarianism and its Uses: Plutarch’s Roman Questions and His Lives of Early Romans,” Athenaeum 102 (2014) 104–119. Tatum, W.J., “Why Parallel Lives?,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 1–22. Teodorsson, S.-T., “Plutarch’s Interpretation of Plato’s Cosmology: Plausible Exegesis or Misrepresentation?,” in Van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths, 419–435. Teodorsson, S.-T., “La concepción plutarquea del Dios Supremo,” in Pérez Jiménez & Casadesús Bordoy (eds.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Misticismo y Religiones Mistéricas, 275–281. Teodorsson, S.-T., “Timoleon: the fortunate general,” in De Blois et al. (eds.), The statesman in Plutarch’s works. 2, 215–226. Ter Vrugt-Lentz J., “Geister (Dämonen) ii. Vorhellenistisches Griechenland,” rac ix (1974) 598–615. Theiler, W., “Plotin zwischen Platon und Stoa,” in Fondation Hardt (ed.) Les sources de Plotin. (Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 5; Vandœuvres-Geneva, 1960) 63–86. Thibau, R., “Les Métamorphoses d’Apulée et la théorie platonicienne de l’ erôs,” Studia Philosophica Gandensia 3 (1965) 89–144. Thomas, R., Oral Tradition and Written Record in Classical Athens (Cambridge Studies in Oral and Literate Culture 18; Cambridge, 1989). Thraede, K., “Euhemerismus,” rac vi (1965) 877–890. Tieleman, T.L., “Diogenes of Babylon and Stoic Embryology: Ps. Plutarch, Plac. v 15. 4 Reconsidered,” Mnemosyne 44 (1991) 106–125. Timotei, A., La démonologie platonicienne: histoire de la notion de daimōn de Platon aux derniers néoplatoniciens (Leiden, 2012). Timpe, D., “Fabius Pictor und die Anfänge der römischen Historiographie,” anrw i.2 (1972) 928–969. Tirelli, A., Plutarco, Ad un governante incolto (Naples, 2005). Titchener, F.B., “Everything to do with Dionysus: Banquets in Plutarch’s Lives,” in Montes Cala et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Dioniso y el Vino, 491–499. Tobin, T., The Creation of Man. Philo and the History of Interpretation (Washington, 1983). Tod, M.N., A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the End of the Fifth Century bc (Oxford, 1933).

308

bibliography

Tod, M.N., Greek Historical Inscriptions ii (Oxford, 1946). Tompkins, D.P., “Stylistic Chraracteristics in Thucydides: Nicias and Alcibiades,” in A. Parry (ed.), Studies in Fifth-Century Thought and Literature (ycs 22; Cambridge, Mass., 1972) 181–214. Torgovnick, M., Closure in the Novel (Princeton, 1981). Torraca, L., “I presupposti teoretici e i diversi volti della tyche plutarchea,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la Religione, 105–156. Torraca, L., “Lingua e stile nei Moralia di Plutarco,” anrw ii.34.4 (1998) 3487–3510. Tovar Paz, F.J., “Motivos de ambientación geográfica y social en De Sollertia Animalium de Plutarco,” Estudios clásicos 36 (1994) 81–89. Trapp, M.B., “Socrates, the Phaedo, and the Lives of Phocion and Cato the Younger,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles, 487–499. Trego, K.M., “Competition in context philonikia in Agesilaus-Pompey,” Ploutarchos 10 (2012–2013) 63–74. Tritle, L.A., “Plutarch’s Life of Phocion: An Analysis and Critical Report,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4258–4297. Tröster, M., Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus: the Construction of a Roman Aristocrat (Stuttgart, 2008). Tsekourakis, D., “Orphic and Pythagorean Views on Vegetarianism in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in Brenk & Gallo (eds.), Miscellanea plutarchea, 127–138. Tsekourakis, D., Οι λαϊκοφιλοσοφικές πραγμάτειες του Πλουτάρχου. Η σχέση τους με τη ‘διατριβή’ και με αλλα παραπλησία γραμματειακά είδη (Thessalonika, 1983). Turcan, R., “Le témoignage de Plutarque,” in R. Turcan (ed.), Mithras platonicus. Recherches sur l’hellénization philosophique de Mithra (Leiden, 1975) 14–22. Turcan, R., Les sarcophages romains à représentations dionysiaques. Essai de chronologie et d’histoire religieuse (Bibliothèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 210; Paris, 1966). Turcan, R., “Les Démons et la Crise du Paganisme Gréco-Romain,”Revue De Philosophie Ancienne 21 (2003) 33–54. Uchibayashi, K., “Plutarch’s Parallel Lives and Heroic Legends: the Lives of Themistocles and Camillus Interpreted as a Single Unit,” jcs 56 (2008) 77–88. Usener, H. & Radermacher, L., Dionysii Halicarnassei Opuscula i (Leipzig, 1899). Uspensky, B.A., Poetics of Composition. The Structure of the Artistic Text and Typology of a Compositional Form (Berkeley, 1973) (= Uspenskii, B.A., Poetika Komposizii. Struktura Khudozhestvennogo Teksta i Tipologia Kompozitsionnoi Formy [Moscow, 1970]). Ustinova, Y., “Either a daimon, or a hero, or perhaps a God: mythical residents of subterranean chambers,” Kernos 15 (2002) 267–288. Valentin, L., “L’idée de Dieu dans Plutarque,” Rev. Thomiste 14 (1914) 313–327. Valgiglio, E., “L’autobiografia di Silla nelle biografie di Plutarco,” Stud. Urb. 49 (1975) 245– 281.

bibliography

309

Valgiglio, E., “Varrone in Plutarco,” in B. Riposati (ed.), Atti del Congresso Internazionale di Studi Varroniani ii (Rieti, 1976) 571–595. Valgiglio, E., Divinità e religione in Plutarco (Geneva, 1988). Valgiglio, E., Plutarco, Il progresso nella virtù (Naples, 1989). Valgiglio, E., Plutarco, Gli oracoli della Pizia (Naples, 1992). Valgiglio, E., Plutarco, Il fato (Naples, 1993). Vallauri, G., Evemero di Messene. Testimonianze e frammenti (Turin, 1956). Van der Meer, H.F., Euhemerus of Messene (Amsterdam, 1949). Van der Stockt, L. (ed.), A Miscellany of Essays on Plutarch (Leuven, 1996). Van der Stockt, L., Titchener, F., Ingenkamp, H.G., & Pérez Jiménez, A. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths and History of Religions in Plutarch’s Works. Studies Devoted to Professor Frederick E. Brenk by the International Plutarch Society (Málaga, 2010). Van Hoof, L., “Plutarch on (un)sociable Talk: Ethics and Etiquette?,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 209–232. Van Sickle, J., “Stile ellenistico-romano e nascita dell’epigramma a Roma,” in E. Flores (ed.), Dall’epigramma ellenistico all’elegia romana, Atti del Convegno della s.i.s.a.c. (Naples, 1984) 9–26. Van Sickle, J., “The Elogia of the Cornelii Scipiones and the Origin of Epigram at Rome,” AJPh 108 (1987) 41–55. Verbeke, G., “Le stoïcisme, une philosophie sans frontières,” anrw i.4 (1975) 3–42. Verbeke, G., “Plutarch and the Development of Aristotle,” in I. Düring & G.E.L. Owen (eds.), Aristotle and Plato in the Mid-Fourth Century (Göteborg, 1960). Verdegem, S., “Parallels and Contrasts: Plutarch’s Comparison of Coriolanus and Alcibiades,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 23–44. Verdegem, S., Plutarch’s Life of Alcibiades: Story, Text and Moralism (Leuven, 2010). Vermeule, C.C., Roman Imperial Art in Greece and Asia Minor (Cambridge, Mass., 1968). Vernière, Y., “Masques et visages du destin dans les Vies de Plutarque,” in F. Jouan (ed.), Visages du destin dans les mythologies (Paris, 1983) 111–119. Vernière, Y., Symboles et mythes dans la pensée de Plutarque. Essai d’interprétation philosophique et religieuse des Moralia (Paris, 1977). Vernière, Y., “Nature Et Fonction Des Démons Chez Plutarque,” in J. Ries (ed.) avec la collab. de H. Limet, Anges et Démons (Louvain-la-Neuve: Centre d’histoire des religions, 1989) 241–251. Vidman, L., Sylloge Inscriptionum Religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae (Berlin, 1969). Villard, F., “Painting,” in J. Charbonneaux, R. Martin, & F. Villard (eds.), Hellenistic Art (330–50bc) (New York, 1973) 97–197 (= “Peinture,” in J. Charbonneaux, R. Martin, & F. Villard (eds.), Grèce hellénistique, 330–50 av. J.-C., Coll. L’Univers des Formes 18 [Paris, 1970] 99–197). Vogt, J., Aspekte erzählender Prosa. Grundstudium, Literaturwissenschaft, Hochschuldidaktische Arbeitsmaterialien 8 (Düsseldorf, 1972).

310

bibliography

Volkmann, R., Leben, Schriften und Philosophie des Plutarch (Berlin, 1869). Volpe Cacciatore, P., Plutarco, L’eccessiva arrendevolezza (Naples, 1994). Volpe Cacciatore, P., “Il concetto di δικαιοσύνη negli Opuscoli contro gli Stoici,” in Ribeiro Ferreira, Van der Stockt, & Fialho (eds.), Philosophy in Society, 233– 242. Volpe Cacciatore, P., “Fato e fortuna negli opuscoli contro gli Stoici di Plutarco: un problema ancora aperto,” in Frazier & Leão (eds.), Tychè et Pronoia, 39–46. Von Binder, C., Plutarchs Vita des Artaxerxes: ein historischer Kommentar (Berlin, 2008). Vorwerk, Matthias, “Maker or Father?: The Demiurge from Plutarch to Plotinus,” in R.D. Mohr & B.M. Sattler (eds.), One Book, The Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today (Las Vegas/Zurich/Athens: Parmenides Publishing, 2010) 79–100. Voutyras, E., “Le cadavre et le serpent ou l’héroïsation manquée de Cléomène de Sparte,” in V. Pirenne-Delforge & E. Suárez de la Torre (eds.), Héros et héroïnes dans les mythes et les cultes grecs (Liège, 2000) 377–394. Wagenvoort, H., “Wesenszüge altrömischer Religion,” anrw i.2 (1972) 348–376. Walbank, F.W., A Historical Commentary on Polybius i (Oxford, 1957). Walbank, F.W., Polybius (Berkeley, 1972). Walbank, F.W., The Hellenistic World (Cambridge, Mass., 1981). Wallace-Hadrill, A., Suetonius. The Scholar and his Caesars (London, 1983; New Haven, 1984). Wallmann, P., Triumviri Rei Publicae Constituendae. Untersuchungen zur politischen Propaganda im Zweiten Triumvirat (43–30 v. Chr.) (Europäische Hochschulschriften 3.383; Frankfurt a. M., 1989). Walsh, P.G., “Apuleius and Plutarch,” in H.J. Blumethal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought (London, 1981) 20–31. Wardman, A.E., Plutarch’s Lives (London, 1974). Weinrich, H., Tempus. Besprochene und erzählte Welt (Sprache und Literatur 16; Stuttgart, 1964). Weinstock, S., Divus Julius (Oxford, 1971). Wellesley, K., Cornelii Taciti Libri qui supersunt, 1.2: Ab Excessu Diui Augusti Libri xi–xvi (Leipzig 1986). West, M.L., The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Its Nature, Structure and Origins (Oxford, 1985). Westman, R., “Review of K.-D. Zacher, Plutarch’s Kritik an der Lustlehre Epikurs. Ein Kommentar zu Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum, Kap. 1–8,” Gött. Gelehrt. Anz. 237 (1985) 28–35. White, R.J., The Interpretation of Dreams. The Oneirocritica of Artemidorus (Park Ridge, New Jersey, 1975). Whittaker, J., “Ammonius on the Delphic e,” cq 19 (1969) 185–192. Whittaker, J., “Platonic Philosophy in the Early Centuries of the Empire,” anrw ii.36.1 (1987) 81–123.

bibliography

311

Whittaker, J., “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” in H.J. Blumethal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought (London, 1981) 64–78. Whittaker, J., “Textual Comments on Timaeus 27c–d,” Phoenix 27 (1973) 387–391. Whittaker, J., “Timaeus 77d 5ff.,” Phoenix 23 (1969) 181–185. Whittaker, J., God Time Being. Two Studies in the Transcendental Tradition in Greek Philosophy (so Fase. Suppl. 23; Oslo, 1971). Wicker, K.O., De defectu oraculorum (Moralia 409e–438e), in Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 131–180. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, U. von, Der Glaube Der Hellenen (5. unveränderte Aufl.; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1976). Wild, R.A., “The Known Isis-Sarapis Sanctuaries of the Roman Period,” anrw ii.17.4 (1984) 1739–1851. Winston, D. & Dillon, J. (eds.), Two Treatises of Philo of Alexandria (Chico, California, 1983). Wöhrle, G., “‘Eine sehr hübsche Mahn-Mumie …’: Zur Rezeption eines herodoteischen Motivs,” Hermes 118 (1990) 292–301. Woodhead, A.G., et al., Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum xviii (Leiden, 1962). Xenophontos, S., “Περὶ ἀγαθοῦ στρατηγοῦ: Plutarch’s Fabius Maximus and the Ethics of Generalship,” Hermes 140 (2012) 160–183. Xenophontos, S., “Comedy in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives,” grbs 52 (2012) 603–631. Yaginuma, S., “Plutarch’s Language and Style,” anrw ii.33.6 (1992) 4726–4742. Yaginuma, S., “Thucydides 6.100,” in E.M. Craik (ed.), ‘Owls to Athens’. Essays on Classical Subjects Presented to Sir Kenneth Dover (Oxford, 1990) 281–285. Yaginuma, S., Πλουτάρχου ’Ερωτικός, Γαμικὰ παραγγέλματα, Παραμυθητικὸς εἰς τὴν γυναῖκα τὴν ἑαυτοῦ, Γυναικῶν ἀρεταί (Tokyo, 1986) (in Japanese). Yaginuma, S., Πλούτάρχου, Πῶς ἄν τις ὑπ’ ἐχθρῶν ὠφελοῖτο, Περὶ ἀδολεσχίας, Περὶ πολυπραγμοσύνης, Περὶ δυσωπίας, Περὶ τοῦ ἑαυτὸν ἐπαινεῖν ἀνεπιφθόνως, Περὶ τοῦ μὴ δεῖν δανείζεσθαι (Tokyo, 1985) (in Japanese). Zacher, K.-D., Plutarch’s Kritik an der Lustlehre Epikurs. Ein Kommentar zu Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum, Kap. 1–8 (Königstein, 1982). Zaehner, R.C., The Dawn and Twilight of Zoroastrianism (London, 1961). Zanatta, M., Gli opuscoli contro gli Stoici i. Delle contraddizioni degli Stoici (Bari, 1976). Zanker, P., The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus (Jerome Lectures 16; Ann Arbor, 1988) (= idem, Augustus und die Macht der Bilder [Munich, 1987]). Zadorojnyi, A.V., “Tragedy and epic in Plutarch’s Crassus,” Hermes 125 (1997) 169–182. Zadorojnyi, A.V., “Sappho and Plato in Plutarch, Demetrius 38,” in Pérez Jiménez et al. (eds.), Plutarco, Platón y Aristóteles (Madrid, 1999) 515–532. Zadorojnyi, A.V., “The Ethico-Politics of Writing in Plutarch’s Life of Dion,” jhs 131 (2011) 147–163. Zadorojnyi, A.V., “The Rhetoric and Philosophy of Plutarch’s mirrors,” in Humble (ed.), Plutarch’s Lives, 169–195.

312

bibliography

Zedda, S., “Spiritualità cristiana e sagezza pagana nell’etica della famiglia. Affinità e differenze tra San Paolo e i Coniugalia praecepta di Plutarco,” Lateranum 48 (1982) 110–124. Zecher, J.L., “Antony’s Vision of Death?: Athanasius of Alexandria, Palladius of Helenopolis, and Egyptian Mortuary Religion,” jla 7 (2014) 159–176. Zeitlin, F., “Petronius as Paradox: Anarchy and Artistic Integrity,” tapa 102 (1971) 657– 684. Zeller, E., Philosophie der Griechen (Leipzig, 1852; 3rd ed., 1909). Ziegler, K. “Plutarchos,” re xxi. 1 (1951) 636–962. Ziegler, K., “Plutarchstudien xxii. Drei Gedichte bei Plutarch,” Rh. m. 110 (1967) 53–64. Ziegler, K., Plutarchi Vitae Parallelae iii.1 (Leipzig, 1971). Ziegler, K., Plutarchos von Chaironeia (2nd ed., Stuttgart, 1964). Ziegler, K., Sontheimer, S., & Gärtner, H. (eds.), Der Kleine Pauly. Lexikon der Antike v (Munich, 1975). Ziegler, K. & Gärtner, H., Plutarchus. Vitae Parallelae iv: Indices (Leipzig, 1980). Zintzen, C., “Hellenistische und kaiserzeitliche Philosophie,” rac ix (1974) 640–668.

Index of Authors and Texts Cited Aelianus Variae Historiae 13,16 100n7 Aelii Aristidis Scholia bd 46.233.17 (ed. Dindorf) (see P. Oxy. 1012c [Fr.]) 237n17 Aëtius Placita 2.30,1 (svf 404,10) 52n18 Aeschylus (Aischylos) Choephoroe 894–895 224n 900–901 115n4 940 115n4 Alexander of Aphrodisias 176.13 47n7 Alexander Polyhistor 125 Anaxagoras 70, 97, 258, 261 Andron of Halikarnassos 121 Androtion 118 Anticlides (Antikleides) 67 Antiochus of Askalon (Antiochos) 11n3, 28, 78 Antipater of Tarsos 88 Antistius Labeo 125 Antonius (Antony) Replies to Philippics 222n Appianus (Appian) Bellum Civile 1.192 113n8 2.35 108n9 2.59 247 4.19 101n8 4.74 102n9 4.134 50n13 5.4,15 161n66 5.8–9 180n28 5.9 180n29 21.149 111n4 Apuleius De deo Socratis 15 47n7 Metamorphoses 75–77 Archemachus of Euboia 67 Arius Didymus Compendium of Platonic Doctrine

(Eusebios, Praeparatio Evangelica) 211.23, 3–6 71n14 Aristoboulos 98n5, 183, 210 Aristodemus Frgm. 10.1–3 (ed. Jacoby, FGrHist 104, ii, a, p. 499) 238n17, 278n17 Aristoteles Ethica Nicomachea 6.2 (1139a27) 59n32 Metaphysica 11.7 (1064a–1064b) 41n58 Physica 1.9 (191b35–192b) 41n58 Topica 6.2 (112a32) 47n7 7.1 (152a5) 47n7 De virtutibus et vitiis 7 (1251a31) 147n35 Arrianus (Arrian) Anabasis 7.23 98n5 7.24 98 7.30 98 Artemidorus Oneirokriticon 1.79 107n6 Asinius Pollio (see Pollio) Aspasius 46n6 Ateius Capito 125 Athenaeus 6.62–63 176n22 Atthis 240n21 Aufidius Modestus 13 Augustinus De civitate dei 2.25 100n7 Bacchylides Odes 17 121 Bion 140n15 Caesar Commentarii 246n29 Callimachus (Kallimachos) 265

68n4, 206, 231,

314

index of authors and texts cited

Cassius Dio 45.27–29 257 47.8 102n9 50.15 249 50.16–35 249 51.1 250 51.20,8 152n42 63.14.3 155n50 63.28,4–5 150n39 66.15,1 152n42 67.13,2 11 67.9 195n55 Castor (Kastor) 125 Cato 11, 125 Chrysippus Peri Ousias svf ii, 1095 19n7 svf ii, 1178 45n3 Cicero Brutus 250 88n7 Contra Verrem 2.3.213–217 159n61 De divinatione 1.44.100 118 De officiis 1.1 88n7 3.2 88n7 Philippicae 2 256n42 2.63 256n42 9.6 256n42 Pro Sestio 140 192n52 Tusculanae Disputationes 1.70 30 Verrines 4.132 87n5 Cinna 105–106 (n. 5) Clidemus (Kleidemos) 240n21 Clitarchus 118 Clemens of Alexandria Protrepticus 35 117 Cornutus 67 Crantor 27n5, 28 Crassicius of Tarentum 106n

Dante Inferno 3.9 151 Demetrios of Phalerum 83n3 (fgh 228, 39) 90n10 Diocles Peparethius 125 Diodorus (Diodoros) Periegetes 121 Diodorus (Diodoros) Siculus Bibliotheca Historica 4.61,2 117 4.62,4 117 11.50,4 118 11.56 237n17 11.56,1–3 243 17.51 118 17.116 98n5 20.110,1 155n51 31.10 90n10 Diogenes Laertius Vitae philosophorum 1.1,29 118 7.151 53n20 Dion Chrysostomus Discourses 17,17 118 47,8 102n9 Dionysius (Dionysios) Halicarnassensis Antiquitates Romanae 12,13 118 Duris (Douris) 81n2, 114, 190n45 Empedocles b 126 (edd. Diels-Kranz) 72 Ephorus (Ephoros) 237n17 Epicharmus Frgm. 258 (ed. Kaibel) 87n5 Epictetus (Epiktetos) 78 Epicurus 195n55 Eudorus Frgm. 181, 7–30 (Dox. Gr., ed. Diels) Eudoxus of Cnidus 67 Euhemeros of Messene 68n4 Euripides Alcestis 22 195n56 363–368 225n28 Bacchae 4–5 156 6–8 135n5

35

315

index of authors and texts cited Iphigenia Aulidensis 1136 81n1 Frgm. 980 (ed. Snell) 158n58 Frgm. 996 (ed. Nauck2) 122n5 Frgm. 997 122n5 Hippolytus 1201–1217 176 1437–1439 195 Hippolytus, scholion to 11 117 Eusebius Praeparatio Evangelica 211.23,3–6 72n14 Fabius Pictor 116, 125 Favorinus 13 Fenestella 125 Gallus

160n63

Hecataeus of Abdera (Hekataios) 67 Hellanicus of Lesbos (Hellanikos) 67 Heraclitus Frgm. 119 (edd. Diels-Kranz) 87n5 Ps. Heraclitus Quaestiones Homericae 72–73 73 Hermippus 118 Herodorus 125 Herodotus (Herodotos) Historiae 2.78 194n55 3.109 149n36 4.13–15 123n8 6.107 107 7.18 115 7.140 115 8.35 115 9.35 115 9.44 115 9.81 115 Hesiodus Opera et dies 135 Scutum 176n22 Theogonia 135 Frgm. 304 (edd. Merkelbach-West) 63n39 Hieronymus of Cardia (Hieronymos of Kardia) 169n5

Homerus Ilias 2.204 225 6.145–211 135n4 6.146–149 139–140 20.200–241 135n4 21.188–191 135n4 22.209–213 195n56 22.212–213 195 23.81–92 224n28 Odyssea 4.275 47n8 4.584 192n52 5.396 47n8 9.142 47n8 10.65 47n8 10.239–240 49n11 11.60 47n8 12.169 47n8 Horatius Odae 1.37 192n51, 260n50 Epodes 5.25 147n33 Hyginus Fabulae 41 117 Inscriptiones Inscr. Cos 391 135n3 eglc (Kaibel) 253.5–6 224n 386.1–2 224n 1049 194n55 ig 12.7.113 224n ii (2nd ed.)1035 195n56 ils 814 149n37 8794 152n42 igrrp iii, 345 152n42 ogis i, 195 189n44 seg xviii, 566 152n42 IGrIt i 52 [Sacco]; (= TrGrF ii, Adespota f279h [Kannicht-Snell]) 196n

316

index of authors and texts cited

Josephus Antiquitates Judaicae 15.88–93 180n29 Contra Apionem 2.59 250n35 Juba 125, 134, 138 Julius Obsequens 57 100n7

Ovidius Metamorphoses 17 1.2.1 75n20 1.67 147n33 7.456–460 117 8.709–710 224n28 11.698–699 224n28 15.637–640 119

Livius (Livy) Ab urbe condita 1.16 124 1.18–21 124 5.16,9 118 5.21 116 10.45,7 119 22 98 22.1 96 22.1.8–13 97n2 22.55 116 22.55–57 116n5 40.21,1 101 45.8,5 83n 45.9 83n Per. 88 112n7 Longinus (Pseudo-) De sublimitate 35.4 265n55 Lucanus Pharsalia 1.183–203 108 8.771–772 192n52 8.816–818 192n52 Lucretius 3.912–915 195n55 Manetho 67 Menander Frgm. 59 (ed. Sandbach) 108n9 Frgm. 714 86n5 Menecrates (Menekrates) 117 Musonius 78 Nepos Themistocles 8 237n17 8.7 238n17 11.8,3–8 243 Nigidius Figulus 30n15, 125

Panaetius (Panaitios) 30n15, 78, 80n3 Papyri Derveni papyrus 171n13 POxy. 1012c 237n17, 240n21 Parmenides Frgm. b 1.18 105n5 Pausanias Graeciae descriptio 1.27,10 117 2.27,1 195n56 3.8,9 117–118 4.26,3 107n6 8.11,12 118 10.7.1 144, 156n54 10.19.2 156n54 Petronius Satyricon 161 Cena Trimalchionis 161, 229, 263, 263n53 Phaenias 18n3 Philemon 231n7 Philippides 115 Philo De Abrahamo 202–204 32n20 De aeternitate mundi 13 30 14 29 De ebrietate 133 71n14 De gigantibus 17–18 59 De Josepho 125 35 De migratione Abrahami 102 71n14 De mutatione nominum 134 71n14 De opificio mundi 2 32 7,25 32

index of authors and texts cited De providentia 4–5 29 28–29 30 De specialibus legibus 2.54–55 32n30 Philochorus FGrHist 328f 155n51 Phrynichus clxvi 231n7 ccxlv 231n7 Phylarchus 67, 81n2, 190n45 Pindarus Fr.276 148n36 Plato Critias 44c 119n10 Gorgias 524a 72 Leges 691a 147n35 709b 87 716b 21 870de 151 872c–873a 151 10 (884a–910d) 27 896d 70 903e5–904a1 59 Phaedo 108a 72 114bc 170n9 Phaedrus 248a 21 248a–e 53n21 248e–249a 170n9 256b 73 Respublica 391c 121n2 507–509 41n58 613ab 21 614 73 617c 41 621cd 170n9 Symposium 21n11, 42n58, 62, 63, 76n25 Theaetetus 174e–175b 135n4 176b 21 176e 20

317 Timaeus 27d5 26 28c3 38 29e–30a 21 35a 70 35a1–2 39 36e–37a 38 37c8 33 37d–38a 29 39de 25 40a 59 41bc 25 42bc 59 47e4 26 68e 25 90a 51, 61 91d 59, 147 92b 147 92c 25, 127 Pseudo-Plato Epinomis 984a 127 Plinius, the Elder (Pliny) Naturalis Historia (nh) 2.106 100n7 7.138 113n8 8.55 257 33.50 258 34.12,26 119 34.45 152n42 Plinius, the Younger Epistolae 5.5.3 166n73 8.12.4 166n73 Plotinus 40, 128n14 Plutarchus Moralia (Ethika) Ad principem ineruditum (Ad princ. iner.) 780e 23 780f 41n58 781f 41n58 Amatorius 753e 135n3 764d 21n11 764f 22 766a 41n58 766b 42n58, 53, 60 768b 112n5

318

index of authors and texts cited Amatorius (cont.) 768b–d 111 770b 41n58 770d–771d 111 An virtus doceri possit (An virt. doc.) 439b 79 An vitiositas ad infelicitatem sufficiat (An vitiositas) 498d 110 500a 110 Animine an corporis affectiones sint peiores (Anim. an corp.) 501d 52n17 501ef 10 Bruta animalia ratione uti (Gryllus) 989a 102 Coniugalia praecepta (Con. praec.) 145cd 24 Consolatio ad uxorem (Cons. ad ux.) 611de 58n31 611d–f 60 De Alexandri magni fortuna (De Al. Magn. fort.) 338a 153n47 De amore prolis (De am. prol.) 493e 52n17 De animae procreatione in Timaeo (De an. procr.) 1013b 28 1014bc 21 1016c 39n46 1023cd 27 1026ef 27, 70n11, 71 De audiendis poetis (De aud. poet.) 17c 23 25b 79 De auditu (De aud.) 43b 118 De cohibenda ira 462a 144 De communibus notitiis adversus Stoicos (De comm. not.) 1076f 78 De curiositate (De cur.) 522de 11 De defectu oraculorum (De def. or.) 415a–c 47 415b 123n8 415bc 56, 170

416d 48 417c 161n66 419a 79 428f 70 431c 63 431e–433a 103 432c 22 432cd 103 De e apud Delphos (De e) 387f 17 387f–391e 66 388e–389c 78 392a 35 392b 214n18 392c 210n13 392ef 210n13 393ab 214n18 393a–c 36 393e 36, 41n58 394a 23 394b 49 De esu carnium (De esu) 994a 161n66 998c 72 De exilio 601ab 111 De facie quae in orbe lunae apparet (De facie) 942f 53 943–945 52 943c 53, 60 943c–e 59n33 943d 55 943f 48 943f–944c 55 944b 57 944bc 54n23 944d 50, 55, 123n8 944e 20, 21, 41, 41n57, 54, 55, 123n8 945b 54 945d 54, 55 De fortuna Romanorum (De fort. Rom.) 318b 90 319b–d 91n12 319d 85 319ef 144n28 319f 174n17 322f 161n66 324b 252n36

index of authors and texts cited De garrulitate 505c 144, 157n55 De genio Socratis (De genio Socr.) 579e–f 201n3 583b 201n3 585e 201n3 585f 202n3 588e 61 590b 57n29 590c–591a 57 590f 108, 192n51 591a–c 40, 57 591b 41 591c 60 591f 60 592a–f 56 De Herodoti malignitate (De Her. mal.) 856b 91n12, 112n5 De Iside et Osiride (De Is. et Os.) 352a 73 357f 194n55 360a 68 360e 48 360e–361d 68 361e 99 361ef 49 362b 58 363d 68 364e 99 369b 68 369e–370c 49 370cd 161n66 370e 70 370f 70 371a 73 371a–c 76n26 372e 41n58 372ef 41n58, 71n12 372f 71, 72n14 373a 39n46 373ab 71 373ac 39 373b 72, 73 373bc 40 373c 71 374de 29 374ef 27 375e 73 378–379 68n4

319 382ab 23 382d–383a 73 382f–383a 76n26 De latenter vivendo (De lat. viv.) 1130c–e 23 De Pythiae oraculis (De Pyth. Or.) 397c 66 398c 23 399bc 117 408a 118 De recta ratione audiendi (De aud.) 43b 118 De sera numinis vindicta (De sera num.) 550d 20 552f 111 553bc 111 554a–555c 110 555c 111 556e 157, 158, 158n58 558b 157 559a 157 559bc 159n61 559c 157 559c 157 561b–f 140n15 561d 157 562b 159n61 562cd 157 562f 158 564f 23 565e 58 565e–566a 58 566e 158 567e 110 567e–f 147, 148 567f 64 De sollertia animalium (De soll. an.) 976c 102n9 De Stoicorum repugnantiis (De Stoic. rep.) 1050e 79 1051c 45 De superstitione (De sup.) 166d–e 161n66 166f–167b 23 167ef 23 166de 161n66 168c 45

320

index of authors and texts cited De superstitione (De sup.) (cont.) 171c 45 171d 18 De tranquillitate animi (De tranq. an.) 464e 231 464f 231n7 465b 52n17 469de 88n8 474b 86 477c–f 128 De virtute morali (De virt. mor.) 445c 52n17 446a–c 52n17 450a 23 Mulierum virtutes (Mul. virt.) 260bc 111 Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum (Non posse) 1102e 110, 161n66 1102f–1103e 110 1104a–1107c 23 Praecepta gerendae reipublicae (Praec. ger. rei.) 810a 144 816c 10 Quaestiones convivales (Quaest. conv.) 613d 161n66 615d–619b 18 628f 117 629e 194n55 635e–638a 17 678c 10 692e 161n66 720bc 29 728b 18 728d–730d 17 728d–730f 17 740d 79, 87 Quaestiones Platonicae (Quaest. Plat.) 1001bc (q. Pl. 2) 20, 28, 33, 34, 38, 39, 39n47, 40 1002b 20, 39n46 1006c 70n10 1006f–1007a 41n58 1007c 27 Quaestiones Romanae (Quaest. Rom.) 266e 126n 276f–277a 79

277a 50 281e 161n66 Quaestiones Graecae (Quaest. Gr.) 299f 161n66 Quomodo adulator (De ad. et am.) 56e 144, 144n28, 151 60b 144, 151 61ab 144n28 68a 249n32 Septem sapientium convivium (Sept. sap. conv.) 148a 194n55 148b 194n55, 196n57 Fragmenta 178 60 200 49n11, 59n32, 72 201 49n11, 72 Vitae Parallelae (Bioi) Aemilius Paullus (Aem.) 8 113 27 79, 90 28 116 Agesilaus (Ages.) 3 117 6 104, 104n4 Alexander (Alex.) 2 98n4, 104n4 2.1 183n31 3 98n4, 104n4, 116n7 14 98n4, 98n5, 116n7, 118 17 98n4 18 104n4 24 104n4 25 182 26 98n4, 104n4 26.11–12 183 27 98n4, 102n9 31 98n4 37 116n7, 118 40 116n7 40.1–2 232n8 50 104n4, 106 50–52 232n8 57 98 73 102n9 75 98 Alcibiades (Alc.) 39 104n4, 106, 111

321

index of authors and texts cited Antonius (Ant.) 1 188, 215 1.1 198 2 188, 215 2.2 222n26 2.4 159 3. 179, 182, 188 3.6 182 4 188, 213, 222 4.1 197 4.2 177 5 182 6 199, 217 7.3 254 7.4 260, 262 7.4–5 210, 252 7.4–6 225, 244 7.5 252–255, 244n27 7.6 254 7–8 188 9 188, 213 9.5–9 256n42, 257n43 9.6 256n42, 260 9.7 260 9.7–8 257 9.8 260 9.9 260 10.2 222n26 12 178 14–22 184 14 191, 215 16 104n4, 106, 174 17.1 197 17.3–6 211 17–18 188 19 174, 175 19.1 215 20.3 163 22 179, 188 22.1 184 22.5 184 22.6–8 198 23 160, 222 23–27 189 24 99, 179, 179n27, 191, 213, 214, 243 24–30 188 24 179, 236–242 24.1 191, 261 24.1–5 237n17, 259, 261

24.2 239, 242 24.4–5 214 24.5 161 24–29 188 25 236, 237, 239 25.1 189, 214 25.2 239 26–36 168n5 26 214 26.1 264 26.1–5 262 27 215 28–29 189 28 215 28.1 190 28.3 191 29.7 223 30 215, 216 32 215, 225 33 189, 211, 225 33–37 154n47 33.3 33.5 226 34 179, 180 35 189, 225 36 189, 214 37–50 188, 189 37–52 186 37 179, 216 37.6 216 38 225 39 227 39.1 227 40.6 211 45 156, 222, 227 45.7–12 185 46 225 48 216 49 219 50 186 51 179, 186, 188 51.1–4 181 52 216 53 188, 216, 219 54 207, 209 54.5 209 55 207 56 179, 179n27, 186, 188 56.2–10 182

322

index of authors and texts cited Antonius (Ant.) (cont.) 57 215, 251 58 220 59 223 60 99 60–68 186 61–66 188 62 218 63 187, 218 63.8 247 64–67 252 64 247 64.3 187 65 248 65.1 252–255 65.6–8 251 65.7 252 66 184, 247 66.1–8 253–255 66.5–7 248 66.7 218, 225, 227 66.8 212 67 252 67.2 253 68 10 68.1 212 68.4 212 69 192, 216 70 216 71 188, 189, 215, 216 71.2–3 193, 216 71.3 215 71.3–5 195n55 71.4 215 74–75 188, 215 75 99, 212, 217, 220 75.2 194 75.4–6 214 75.6 195 76 188, 212, 219 76–77 209 77 196, 217, 219 77.6–7 217 77.7 217 78 220 79 225 80 209, 225 81 209, 225 82 196, 209

82.2 196 84.4–7 224 84.7 196 85 220, 225 85.8 225 86 196 86.7 198, 220 87 113, 135, 219 87.4 142 93 218 93.4 199 Aratos (Arat.) 4 109n13 5 109 43 79 54 136, 138n10 Aristides (Arist.) 6 115n4 9.2 161n66 11 104n4, 105, 115, 117, 120 11.5 115n4 19 104n4 Artaxerxes 22.5 249n32 Brutus (Brut.) 1 140n15 20 104n4, 105 24 88n7 36 50 37–51 88 40 109, 109n13 43 112n6 47 88 53 113, 185 53.4 185n34 54 109n13 55 88 Caesar (Caes.) 32 104n4, 106, 107 40 109, 109n13 42 104n4, 106n 63 79, 106, 187 66 85, 91 68 104n4, 105 69 51, 92, 112 Camillus (Cam.) 4 116, 118 6 23 37 79

index of authors and texts cited Cato Maior (Ca. Ma.) 139n11 Cato Minor (Ca. Mi.) 71 113, 192n52 Cicero (Cic.) 2 104n4 4 94, 102n9 5 119, 119n10 24 88n7 43.2 193n53 44 104n4 46.6 163 48 100, 112 48.6 163n69 49 113, 137, 165 49.6 165 Coriolanus (Cor.) 24 104n4, 105 37–38 23 Crassus 16–33 186 Demetrius (Demetr.) 1 188 1.6 173 1.8 173 2 188 2.3 175 4 104n4, 154 4.1 197 5–6 179 5–7 188 7 179 8 154, 179 8.2–3 155 10 153 10–13 115 12 153, 178 12.7 155 14 188 15 179, 188 16 184, 188 16.6 174 19 104n4, 105 19.6 174 23–24 179 23–27 188, 189, 191 24 175n18, 191 25 154 26–27 179 28–29 188

323 28.1 190 29 104n4 30 154, 179, 180 30.2–5 181 31–36 188 32–34 179 39 179 41–42 188, 191 43–44 188 45 156 46–50 188 47 179 47.1–2 185 49 219 51 180, 186 52 188, 191 52.3–4 190 53.1 191 53.5 192, 264 53.8–9 138 56 180 Demetrius-Antonius 137, 167n1, 172, 173n16, 199, 256n44 Demosthenes (Dem.) 19 94, 115 20 109, 109n13 29 104n4, 106 Dion 45.27–29 257 54 50, 109 56 50 58 111, 112 Dion-Brutus Introd. 92, 93 Eumenes (Eum.) 6 104n4, 105 19 111 Fabius Maximus (Fab.) 2 96 14 109 18 116 Flamininus (Flam.) 10 102n9 10–12 154n48 11 95n15 12 116, 144 Galba 1 157n55 4 143

324

index of authors and texts cited Galba (cont.) 8 143 14 143 16 143 17 143 19 143 27 113 Gracchus, Gaius (cg) 1 104n4 Gracchus, Tiberius (tg) 17 102n9 21 112 Cimon (Cim.) 6 111 8 117 18 104n4 Cleomenes (Cleom.) 7 104n4 Lucullus (Luc.) 10 104n4, 105 12 104n4, 105 23 104n4, 105 39 14 Lysander (Lys.) 18 114, 115 20 104n4, 105 22 117 25–26 114 29 118 Marcellus (Marc.) 8 116 28 97 30.11 137 Marius (Mar.) 8 100 36 100 39 100 45 100, 104, 104n4, 112 46 137 Nicias (Nic.) 11 109n13 13 118, 120 14 120 17 94 23 24, 97 Numa (Num.) 5 124 8 23, 119 11 70n10

15 124 Pelopidas (Pel.) 20 120 20–22 18n3 21 45, 104n4 35 104n4, 112 Pericles (Per.) 3 104n4 6 97 12.1–2 232n8 13 104n4, 105 39 23 Philopoemen (Phil.) 17 83n3, 94 21 113 Philopoemen-Flamininus Phocion (Phoc.) 1 94 38 136 Phocion-Cato 2.5 249n32 Pompeius (Pomp.) 2.1 183n32 24 70 25 102n9 32 104n4, 105 34 183n32 42 79 46 87 46 87, 183n32 68 104n4, 106n5 73 105 74 87, 109n13 75 87 76 87 80 112 84 109 84.8 249n32 Pyrrhus (Pyrrh.) 11 104n4, 105 29 104n4 Romulus (Rom.) 2 104n4, 105, 122 9 115 12 123n7 28 51n16, 115, 124 31 172n15 Sertorius (Sert.) 5 113

144

325

index of authors and texts cited 27 112 Solon (Sol.) 4 118 9 118, 118n9 14 118 Sulla (Sull.) 6 90 7 97 9 104n4, 105, 106 12 117 14 113 27 100 28 104n4 29 117 37 104n4, 105 Themistocles (Them.) 10 115 13 18n3 13.3 161n66 24 237–243 24.2 240, 242 24.4 242 24–25 237n17 25 237 25.2 238n17, 239, 243 27 104n4 30 104n4, 115 32 137 Theseus (Thes.) 2 121, 122 4 122 5 122 7 122 12 122, 161n66 15 117, 122n5 16 121 18 117 19 121 21 122 24 121 25 121 33 122 35 121, 122 36 117 Timoleon (Tim.) 8 104n4, 105, 106 16 89 30 111, 115 37 113

Lamprias Catalogue 109n12, 233n10, 240n21 Ps. Plutarch De vita et poesi Homeri 126 73 Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata (Reg. et imp. apophth.) 187e 91n12 206c 108n9 Pollio, Asinius 12, 106, 109n11, 109n13, 163n69 Polybius (Polybios) Historiae 1.4,1 84 1.4,3 84 4.81,4 84 29.21 83n3, 90n10 36.17 83n3 Posidonius 30n15, 36–37, 41, 67n2, 70, 78, 88–89, 88n8 Promathion 122, 123n6 Propertius 4.7.93–94 224n28 Pyrrho of Lipara 125 Rufus, Cluvius 125 Rufus, Curtius 11n3, 118 Rusticus 11–13, 145 Sallustius Historiae 3.3 159n61 Seneca Apocolocyntosis 4.1 150n38 Simplicius In Aristotelis Physicorum libros Commentaria 181 10ff. (ad Arist. 188a 19) 35n30 Socrates (Sokrates) of Argos 125 Socrates (Sokrates) of Rhodes Frgm. 1 (ed. Jacoby, FGrHist 192 Fr. 1; ii, c, 621) 263n53 Solon 118 Sophocles (Sophokles) Antigone 1237–1241 224n28 1240–1241 224n28 Electra 1165–1170 224n28

326

index of authors and texts cited

Oedipus Tyrannus 4–5 258n47 981–982 107n6 Suda 443.32 47n7 Strabo 5.4.4 192n52 13.1.30 192n52 13.1.31 192n52 14.1.26 179n27 Suetonius Augustus 13.1–2 163n69 52 152n42 Caesar 7 107 32 106 32–33 107 81 111n4 Nero 10 144n28 10–13 159 23–24 156 25 150 26–31 144n28 31 152n42, 263n53 32 144n28 33–38 144n28 34 155 Vespasianus 8 152n42

55.4 53n20 Theophrastus Περὶ Καιρῶν Frgm. 9 (POxy. 1012c Col. ii, 11.23–35) 240n21 Theopompus 67, 68 Thucydides (Thoukydides) Historiae 1.136–137 233 1.136.1 239, 241 1.136.2 239, 242 1.136.3 239, 241, 242 1.136.41 239 1.136.4 240, 243 1.137.1 241 1.137.2 240, 241, 243 3.104.2 195n56 7.50.4 24n17 Scholia Thucydidis 1.136.1–2 237n17 Timaeus Locrus (Timaios Lokros) 30n15, 35 Timaeus (Timaios) of Tauromenion 89, 230 Timotheus 67, 90, 91, 91n12 Tzetzes, Johannes Ilias p. 95 (Hermann) 117

Tacitus Agricola 2 11 Annales 13.10 152n42 14.64.1–3 163–164 16.21–25 145 16.21.1 145 16.22 146 16.25–26 146 16.30–33 146 16.35.1–2 146, 147n33 Historiae 5.13.1 195n56 Tertullianus De anima 54.2 53n20

Valerius Maximus Factorum et dictorum memorabilium libri ix 1.1 111n4 1.4,5 101n8 1.6,3 118 1.7,7 50 1.8,2 119 Varro 53n20, 123, 125, 125n10, 139n13 Vergilius Aeneis 1.726–727 263n53 6.309–312 59n32 6.426–427 108 6.426–429 57, 192n51 6.733–734 202 6.739–742 57n29 Eclogae 259 Georgica 13 Verrius Flaccus 125

327

index of authors and texts cited Xenocrates 20n7, 26, 28, 44n1, 45–48, 47n7, 47n8, 53, 55, 62n37, 65, 67, 69n5 Xenophon Hellenica 3.3.3 118

Zeno 36, 119 Zonaras Histories 7.20 118 10.7 108n9 Zoroaster 47, 126

Index of Historical Persons Admetos 234–237, 238n17, 240n21, 241–243 Aelius (see Hadrian) Aemilius 167n7 Aemilius Paullus, Lucius 75–77, 85, 89, 116 Agesilaus 104, 117 Aglaonice 24 Agrippa 134, 138, 248–249, 251, 253, 255 Agrippina, mother of Nero 135, 138, 145, 150, 155, 164n70 Alexander (murderer of Pelopidas) 111, 112n5 Alexander (the Great) 87, 91n12, 92, 98n5, 105–107, 116n7, 118, 154, 170n11, 176, 178n25, 182, 183, 183n31, 183n33, 260, 265 Alexander Polyhistor 125 Alexandros (son of Demetrios) 137 Alcibiades 106, 119–120 Ammonios (friend of Plutarch) 10, 11n3, 18– 20, 29, 33–35, 45, 63, 70, 103, 137, 141 Anaxagoras 70, 97 Antigonos 137, 153–155, 169n5, 174–175 Antigonos (son of Demetrios) 178, 191–192 Antiochus of Ascalon 28 Antiochus (philosopher) 78n1 Antipater of Tarsos 88 Antonia 134, 163n69, 166, 189n41 Antonius, Marcos (see Plutarch, Life of Antonius) Antonius (son of Antonius) 134 Antyllus 134, 209, 215 Apollonios (teacher of Cicero) 94 Aratos 81n2, 136 Araxes 186 Archias (tyrant) 106 Areios 209, 225 Aristion 113 Aristoboulos 98n5, 183, 210 Aristokrates 165n72 Arsinoe (sister of Kleopatra) 180n28–29 Artavasdes 209, 216 Arulenus Rusticus 145 Attalids 179n27 Attalos 100n6 Attalos of Pergamon 99, 178 Atticus 139n13

Augustus, Octavius (see also Caesar) 113, 121n3, 106, 134, 137, 141, 150, 165, 174n17, 219 Autoboulos (friend of Plutarch) 17 Autolykos 105 Avidius Quietus 12–13 Brutus, Marcus Iunius 48, 50–51, 88, 92, 93, 106, 112–113, 163n69, 184–185, 198 Caesar (title) 174n17, 182, 183n32, 184, 187, 196, 198, 209, 211, 219–220, 226, 247–258, 261 Caesar, Gaius Iulius 87–88, 91–92, 105–109, 111, 134, 163n69, 182, 198, 206, 209, 215, 243–247, 254, 259 Caesarion 209, 225 Calenus 244, 246 Caligula 136 Calpurnia 91, 106 Canidius 187, 209, 218, 227, 247, 253 Capito 125, 146, 166n73 Cassius, Gaius Longinus 50n13, 51, 51n14, 91, 92, 106, 112, 112n6, 179n27, 184 Cassius of Parma 50n13, 51 Cato Minor (Marcus Porcius Uticensis) 192n52 Censorinus 258, 261 Charmion 225 Cicero, Marcus Tullius 30, 32, 38, 87n5, 88n7, 94, 100, 101, 102n9, 111n4, 112–113, 118– 119, 120n10, 124–125, 137, 139n13, 162n67, 163–167, 193n53, 197–198, 256–257 Cinna, Lucius Cornelius (the conspirator) 105–106 Claudius 150n38 Cleopatra (daughter of Cleopatra) 134 Cleopatra 89, 99, 100n6, 134, 159, 161, 162, 165, 174, 177n24, 178, 179n27, 180–182, 189– 196, 199, 207–209, 212–227, 247–253, 256, 260–264 Clodius 189n41, 215 Coponius 244–246 Cornelia 87 Crassus 89, 112, 186–187 Crassus, Publius 87

329

index of historical persons Crispinus 143 Curio 213 Cytheris (Volumnia) 257

160, 189n41, 213,

Damokles 175n18 Dante 151 Deïdameia 137, 181 Dellius 226 Demetrios (brother of Perseus) 101 Demetrios of Phaleron 49, 83–84, 90, 101, 105, 115n2, 137, 153, 153n45–47, 154–156, 169–170, 172–191, 197, 199, 203–205, 210, 213, 217, 219, 264 Demetrios Poliorketes 169n5 Demetrios Leptos 137 Demetrius 146 Diogenes (the Cynic) 127 Dion of Syracuse 50–51, 93, 99, 111, 247, 249– 251 Dolabella, P. Cornelius 189n41, 256 Domitian, Titus Flavius 12, 14, 75–76, 111, 142, 166 Domitianus (Domitian) 195n55 Domitius Ahenobarbus 134, 135, 138 Drusus 134 Einstein 25, 158 Empona 111 Epameinondas 205n7 Eros (slave of Antonius) 165, 222 Eumenes 178n26 Eumenes (general of Alexander) 111 Eumenes of Pergamon 100n6 Eurydike 138 Eurykles 212, 222, 251–253 Eutychos 248, 253 Fadia 189n41 Fannius, C. 166n73 Fausta (daughter of Sulla) 90 Favorinus (friend of Plutarch) 13, 125 Felix (son of Sulla) 90 Flamininus, Titus 144, 154–155, 204 Fulvia 134, 177n24, 189n41, 215, 259 Fundanus, C. Minicius 13 Gabinius 206, 210, 254 Gaius (Caligula) 134, 136–138, 152n42

Gaius (brother of Antonius) 185, 198 Gamma of Galatia 111 Geminius 223 Glaphyra of Kappadokia 189n41 Gracchus, Tiberius Sempronius 112 Hadrian, Publius Aelius 13–14, 114 Hannibal 96, 116 Helvidius 146 Herakleides 50, 112n6 Herennius (see Saturninus) Hermodoros of Klazomenai 65 Hippias 107, 256n42 Hortensius 185, 198 Hybreas 225, 259n48 Hyginus 117, 139n13 Hyrodes 112 Iuba 125, 134, 138 Iulius Caesar 243, 253, 259 Kallippos 111–112 Kambyses 182–183 Kassandros (Cassander) 154 Klea (friend of Plutarch) 66–67 Kleitos 98n5, 106, 232n8 Kleombrotos (friend of Plutarch) 43n1, 45– 49, 54, 61–64 Kleomedes of Astypalaia 51n16, 116, 123 Korrhagos 138 Krateros 116n7 Kratippos of Pergamon 87, 88n7 Lais 106 Lamia 156n52, 174–175, 184 Lampon 97 Lamprias (brother of Plutarch) 11n3, 22, 46, 70, 79, 81, 87, 103, 141, 142n18 Lentulus 197, 206, 210, 215 Leochares 116n7 Leptos (son of Demetrios) 137 Libo 243, 254 Livia 134 Longinus (see Cassius) Lucilius 165n72 Lucius Censorinus 258, 261 Lucius Domitius 135 Lycoris 160n63

330 Lykourgos 115 Lysandros 115, 115n2, 118 Lysiades 162n67 Lysippos 116n7 Marcellus 98, 116 Marcellus, Marcus Claudius 134, 137, 141 Marcus Insteius 253 Marcus Octavius 253 Marius, Gaius 88, 100, 104, 112–113, 141, 197 Marius, Iunior 137 Mestrius Florus, Lucius (friend of Plutarch) 13 Metrodorus 258 Mithridates 105, 187 Modestus, Aufidius 13 Nasica, Publius Cornelius Scipio 112 Nero, Claudius Caesar 34n29, 52, 64, 113, 133–162, 164n70, 165–166, 168, 188, 191n48, 198, 209, 220 Nigrinus (brother of Avidius) 13 Nikarchos 141, 142n19 Nikias 24, 97, 109n13, 120 Octavia (sister of Augustus) 134, 161, 163, 164n70, 189, 207, 209, 216 Octavia (wife of Nero) 161, 177n24 Octavius (see Augustus) Olympos (physician of Kleopatra) 224n28 Opimius 192n52 Otho, Marcus Salvius 113, 161 Paccius (friend of Plutarch) 13 Paetus Thrasea (see Thrasea Paetus) Pausanias 111 Pelopidas 111, 120 Perikles 97, 111 Perseus 83n3, 90, 101, 116, 136, 138n10, 141 Phaidros (Epicurean philosopher) 162n67 Phila 156 Philinos (friend of Plutarch) 18 Philip (the Great) 10 Philip (v) 95n15, 113 Philip (father of Perseus) 136, 141 Philippos (friend of Plutarch) 49 Philologus 112, 164–165 Philopappos 13

index of historical persons Philopoimen 83n3, 94, 113, 204 Philotas of Amphissa 141, 142n18, 225 Phokion 94, 141 Phthia 237 Pompeius, Gnaeus Magnus 183, 187, 192n52, 210, 243, 247 Pompeius, Sextus 207, 215–216, 215n19, 220, 225–226 Pontius Telesinus 112n7 Poppaea 143, 146, 161, 164 Priscus, Terentius 13 Proculeius 124 Ptolemaios (Ptolemy) 154, 174, 182, 184 Ptolemaïs 137 Ptolemy (i) 67 Publicola 248, 253, 255 Pyrrhos 169n5 Pythagoras 18, 23, 48, 70, 72, 119, 124 Pytholaus 112n5 Quietus (see Avidius) Rufus, M. Valerius Messalla 139n13 Rusticus (consul 92a.d.?) 11–13 Saturninus, Lucius Herrenius 13 Scipio Africanus Maior 192n52 Scipiones 157 Secundus, Iulius 13 Seleukos 190 Semiramis 135n3 Sertorius, Quintus 112–113 Servilia 185n34 Severus Alexander 76n27 Skedasos 45 Skellios 248, 251, 253, 255 Socrates (Sokrates) 56, 56n28, 125, 201, 202, 205, 206 Socrates (Sokrates) of Rhodes 262, 263n Soranus 145–146 Sosius Senecio, Quintus 13 Sourena 112 Stratokles 155, 156n52 Stratonike 137 Sulla (son of Sulla) 105 Sulla, Lucius Cornelius 10, 31, 89n8, 90–91, 91n12, 94, 100, 104, 105, 113, 113n8, 116–117, 119 Sulla, Sextius (friend of Plutarch) 13, 31, 125

331

index of historical persons Tarchetius 122n6 Taurus 253 Telesinus (see Pontius) Thebe (wife of Alexander, murderer of Pelopidas) 112n5 Themistokles 234, 237, 238n17, 239, 241–243 Themistokles (friend of Plutarch) 137 Theon (friend of Plutarch) 66, 78n1, 110 Thoukydides 233, 237–243 Thrasea Paetus, Publius Clodius 11–12, 144– 146, 147n33 Thrasymachos (character in Plato) 62 Tiberius, Iulius Caesar Augustus 49 Timandra 106 Timokleia 111 Timoleon 89, 112, 115

Timon 192–193 Timon (the Misanthrope) 89, 216, 225 Timon (brother of Plutarch) 145 Timotheos of Athens 90–91 Tiridates 146 Tisamenos 115 Trajan, Marcus Ulpius 13–14, 114 Ulpius (see Trajan) Vespasian, Titus Flavius 13 Volumnia 160n63 Volumnius, Publius (friend of Brutus) Xenophantos of Thebes Xouthoses 258

192n50, 263

51

Index of Subjects abandonment by gods 225 Abydos 50, 92, 98 Academy 10, 11n3, 17, 19–21, 30–31, 40, 137n8 Achaia 10, 13, 110, 150n39 Achilleus 135n4, 191, 192n52, 195, 208n11, 224n28 Acraephiae (Akraiphiai) 149 Acropolis 178 Actium (Aktion) 50n13, 51, 99, 133n1, 142, 166, 178, 180, 184, 186–189, 207, 209, 211, 216, 218, 220, 222, 227, 247, 251–256, 258, 262 Adonis 72n17 Aemilius monument 116n7 Aeneas 135n4, 192, 259 aera 68 Aesculapius 126 aether 53n20 Africa 192n52 Agave 135 Agora 262–263 Ahriman 69 Aiaia 72–73 A-idoneus 35 Alcmena 123, 201 Alcoholism (drinking) 159–160, 173, 175, 177, 181, 187–194, 211, 213–217 alea 108n9 Alexander comparison 91n12, 183n31–32 Alexander Mosaic, Pompeii 260 Alexandria 10, 18–19, 29–30, 30n12, 32, 34– 35, 39–40, 99, 117, 141, 161, 162n67, 178, 182, 189–192, 194, 207, 209, 212, 214–219, 224n28, 225–226, 251, 264–265 allegorical interpretation 2, 29, 38, 40, 49, 61, 66, 67, 69–75, 77–78 Amazons 122 ambiguity 230n5 Amimetobioi 215 Ammon 105, 118, 120 amplification 241, 246 analepsis 209, 227 ananke 26, 40, 45 angels 67n32 animae 61n20 Anthesterion 155 anthropomorphism 36, 79

Antikyra 10 Anton, son of Herakles 177 Anubis 74n17 anxiety 22n13, 50, 101, 104, 104n3, 105, 128n14, 181, 204, 247 apatheia 79 Aphrodisias 150n39 Aphrodite of Aphrodisias 91n12 Aphrodite (Venus) 60, 64, 90, 91n12, 99, 99n6, 105, 106n5, 117, 159, 204, 214, 261– 264 Apokatastasis 169, 203 Apollo (Helios, Kitharistes/Citharoedus, Ktistes, Pythios, Delphinios, Didyminios, A-pollon) 19n7, 35, 48–49, 53, 66, 71, 78, 94, 100–101, 105, 116–119, 128n14, 149–150, 152n42, 154, 157, 159–160, 195, 195n56, 246 apophthegmata 194n55, 222 aporiai 200n1 apotheosis 51n16, 123, 123n8, 150n38 apotropaic rites 45, 127 apparent objectivity 227, 233 Appian Way 124 Arabia 149n36 Araxes 186 Arcadian Italy 259 archai 40 Areimanios 68 Ares-Mars 159 arete 21, 93n14, 94–95, 119, 123n8, 136, 204 Argeii 126–127 Argonauts 122 Argos 154 Aristotelianism 46, 129n15 Armenia 146, 186, 209 Artemis (Ephesian) 64, 91n12, 161n66, 179n27, 180n28, 195 Asia 13, 92, 135n3, 151, 159–160, 180, 186, 191, 222, 225, 237, 242–243, 258–262 Asklepios 126 assimilation to God 19, 21, 99n6, 150, 175, 177–178, 199 astronomy 24, 26 ataraxia 195n55 atheism 15, 22, 68, 80

index of subjects Athena (Alkis, Promachos) 105, 153, 153n45, 176, 178 Athens (and athenians) 10, 13, 17n1, 31, 40, 75, 90, 94, 99, 100n6, 107, 113, 117–118, 120, 137, 144, 153, 153n45, 154n47, 155–156, 160n65, 161, 162n67, 178, 179n27, 180–181, 189–190, 197, 209, 234n14, 235, 237, 241 Attica 121n3 Attic 91n12, 121, 121n3, 122n4, 230, 231n5 Attis 74n17 Augustan and post-Augustan age 230–231, 249n33 autarkeia 193n53 automaton 3, 84, 91, 169 avarice 144n28, 250 Bacchai (Bacchantes, Bacchanalia) 99, 136, 213 Bacchos (see also Dionysos) 58, 58n31, 99, 151, 179, 188, 191, 213–214, 226 banquets (banqueting) 161, 189, 192, 194n55, 215, 216, 252, 264 baroque 3, 96, 188, 229, 229n1, 229n2, 243, 253, 265 battle scenes 178, 182, 187–189, 219, 227, 250– 251, 256 Beautiful 21, 27, 41, 54, 60, 62, 63, 76n26 Bellerophon 140–141 Bellona 91n12, 97 benefactions 30, 52, 143, 147, 155n51, 156, 161 Beowulf 212n15 Berytos (Beirut) 180–181 Biography 11, 51, 83n3, 94, 96, 104, 109, 122, 136, 139, 143, 167n2, 171, 173n16, 191n48, 197n59, 206, 219, 240 bioi 14 Black Sea 105 Boedromion 155 Boiotia 127, 149, 152n42, 179n27 Bona Dea 126 Books of Numa 124 Bosporus 105 bouleuterion 222 bridal theme 224n28 Britain 49, 54 Brundisium 243 bull 69n6, 122, 176–177 bullae 126 burial (see funeral)

333 Caieta 100–101 Campus Martius 76n27 Carmentalia 126 Carnivorous and Savage 151, 161, 214, 259– 261, 264 Carthage 45 Chaironeia 10, 14, 18, 75, 142, 149, 179n27 Chaldaean dualism 70 character 12, 34n29, 35, 87, 98, 105, 116, 135n4, 142, 159, 170, 178, 180, 186, 191n46, 203, 206, 208, 208n11, 210, 212, 217, 218, 219n21, 222, 222n26, 227 Charidotes (see Dionysos) Chersonesos 189–190 chiasmus 223, 231 childhood 136, 197n59, 206 chora 76n25 choregos 128 chreia, chreiai 175, 194n55, 225 chrematismos 104 Christianity 22n13, 69, 75, 93 chronology of Plutarch’s writing 14–15, 40, 43n1, 84, 206n8 chronos 68 Cilicia (Kilikia) 161, 189, 261 Circus Maximus 150 citations (quotations) 46n6, 117, 156n53, 259, 259n48, 259n49 clairvoyancy 54, 62, 120 classicism 231 closure 191n48 coeducation 24 coins 150n39, 152n42, 153n45, 176–177, 177n24, 262 computer 10n1 conspicuous consumption 191 Consualia 127 Corcyra 243 Corinth 10, 192 Corpus Hermeticum 74 cowardliness 165, 212 crane dance 122n4 creation 26, 28–30, 36, 38, 68, 109, 193 Crete 115 crows 100–102 cruelty 112n5, 144n28, 145–146, 150n38, 159, 162, 164, 166, 250 Cyclic poets 121 Cydnus (Kydnos) 180n28, 256, 261–263

334 cylix 172 Cynic philosophy 193n53, 225 Cynoscephalae (Kynoskephalai) 95n15 Cyprus 18n3, 105, 174, 176, 179, 184, 187, 197, 210 daimon, daimones 2, 23, 37, 41, 43–68, 72, 78n1, 79, 81, 84–89, 91–94, 97–98, 111, 113, 115, 120, 122–123, 126n11, 128n14, 165, 171, 172n15, 200n2, 201–203, 205, 211, 226, 252n36 daimonology 37, 43, 44n1, 45–50, 52n18, 53n20, 55, 60–65, 61n35, 62n37, 67–68, 74n17, 79, 92–93, 120, 171, 201–202, 205 daimonion, daimonia 45, 45n2, 50, 61–62, 84, 91–92, 94, 97, 111, 113, 115, 165–166 damnatio memoriae 137–138, 196 death 32, 36, 37, 41n58, 42, 45n4, 49, 51–52, 54, 58, 58n31, 60, 63, 71–73, 85, 88n8, 89, 98, 98n5, 101–103, 102n9, 102n10, 105–106, 107n6, 110–112, 112n5, 124, 141, 146–147, 150n39, 157–158, 159n62, 163– 166, 165n72, 166n73, 172, 172n15, 187, 188–199, 191n48, 192n51, 192n52, 194n54, 195n55, 201n3, 202n3, 204–205, 206n9, 207–209, 212–225, 224n28, 235, 250–251, 264 deconstruction 140, 260, 260n50 defeat Demetrios 154, 174, 182, 187, 190 Antonius 162, 180, 189–190, 199, 207, 209, 218 degeneration 37, 140–141, 178, 187 deisidaimonia 22, 50, 98 Delos 122n4 Delphi 2, 10, 14, 17, 66, 75, 101, 111, 114–120, 141n18, 143–144, 153, 156n54, 160 Demeter 73, 105, 153–154, 156n52 demigods 47 demiourgos 7, 27, 32–33, 39, 39n46, 48 demos 93 denouement 255 determinism 79, 221–222n26 diabolical 171–172 Diadochoi 170n11 Diana 126 Dido and Aeneas 192, 259 Diesseitigkeit 31 diobletos 135n5 Diomedes 141

index of subjects Dionysos (Agrionios, Charidotes, Meilichios, Omestes, Dionysia, Neos Dionysios) 52, 57, 58, 53, 66, 68, 73, 98n5, 99, 99n6, 100n6, 115n2, 150n39, 151–152, 154n47, 159, 160n64, 161, 161n66, 175, 175n19, 176, 176n22, 177, 178, 178n25, 179n27, 180, 187, 189n44, 190, 194, 194n54, 195, 195n56, 212, 214, 217, 259–262, 264 Dirke 156 Divus Nero (Temple) 152n42 Divine 3, 7, 17, 21, 24n17, 79, 83, 83n3, 91n12, 102, 110, 111–113, 120, 227, 140, 146, 149, 152–155, 152n42, 155, 164, 166n73, 169– 172, 178, 205, 205n7, 251, 259n48 Dodona 118 dogmatism 31 Domus Aurea 263n53 double causality and motivation 85, 102 doubling 232n8, 233, 243, 253 doxa 70 dramatic 3, 34n29, 96, 158, 185, 211, 229, 238n19, 242, 243, 265 dreams 2, 13, 22–23, 61, 94, 96, 98, 102–107, 119–120 drinking (see alcoholism) dualism 67, 69n5, 70, 78n1, 79, 86, 128n14 Dyad 35, 70 dynasty 136–137, 141 Dyrrachion 184, 187, 192n52, 243, 245, 251– 253, 256, 258, 262 dystychiai 87 eclipses 24, 24n16, 56n27, 97 ecstasy (see Plotinian ecstasy) Egeria 124n9 Egypt (Egyptian Religion) 2, 8, 39–40, 67, 69n6, 73, 74n17, 75, 99, 137, 152n42, 181, 192n52, 194n55, 195n55, 206, 210–211, 216, 225–226, 249 ekpyrosis 78, 203 Ekregma and Serbonian marshes 182 Eleusis 144, 154n47, 155, 156n52 Elysian plain 53, 72 emanation 72n14 Endymiones 53n20 enkomion 173n16 enthousiasmos 66 Enyo 105

index of subjects Epaphroditos 90, 91n12 Epeiros 237, 243 ephebeia (ephebes) 11n3, 137n8 Ephesos 99, 151, 154, 160n4, 179–181, 179n27, 188, 191, 213–214, 235, 243, 256, 258–260, 262, 264 epheton 49, 63 Epicureanism (and epicureans) 19n3, 31, 59, 59n14, 72, 99, 118, 170n67, 203n55, 211 epigonoi 273 epoche 59, 104, 144 epoptos 163 eques 21 Er 265 Erinys, Erinyes 50, 94, 127 eros (erotikos) 21n11, 48, 60, 62–63, 76n25, 165, 191, 199, 214, 222, 249, 250, 252 eschatology 15, 21, 23, 36–37, 45, 59, 59n33, 60, 61n35, 64, 105, 110, 147 ethos 148, 216 euergetes 30 Euhemerism 67, 68, 68n4, 121 Eumenides 171n13 euocatio 195n56 eupatheia 32n20 Euphrates 105, 179, 185 Eusebeia 120 eutychia, euthychiai 87, 89, 94 euthymia 86 Eutychos 248, 253, 256 evil 36, 38, 40–41, 43–45, 43n1, 44n1, 45n3, 47n8, 50–54, 58–59, 59n32, 63, 65, 68, 70, 72n14, 74, 78n1, 79, 86–87, 90, 92– 93, 98n5, 100, 110, 112, 112n5, 120, 128n14, 137, 140n15, 144, 180, 188n39, 189–192, 194n55, 203, 213–214, 224n28, 231n7, 249, 266 extravagance 141, 144, 144n28, 159, 166, 173, 177, 182, 188–189, 191, 211, 213, 225, 258 fabrication 208n12 fatum, fata 82, 118–119 Faunus 124, 126 felicitas temporum 12 Felix (title of Sulla) 90 Fetiales 126 Fides 126 Flamen Dialis 127 flattery 144, 151–152

335 flight Antonios 143, 180, 209, 214, 227 Demetrios 179 Nero 164–165 focalization 221, 221n25, 222n26, 256, 265 foreign cults 24 foreshadowing 141, 154, 184, 209, 252 Formalists 212n16 Forms (Ideas) 19, 21–22, 25, 27, 30, 34, 41, 52, 71, 201, 203 fortune (fortuna) 81, 83n3, 84, 87, 90, 91n12, 94, 170n11 Forum (Roman) 13, 1119, 163, 256–257 Frashkart 69 free indirect discourse 221 fresco 107, 157, 256, 261, 263 fundamentalism 27 funeral (burial) 90, 113, 126, 146, 184–185, 188, 191–192, 195–199, 220, 224n28, 225, 263 Galaxidoros 61–62, 205n7 Gauls 116 Gaza 179, 182, 210 Gemma Augustea 139n13 genealogy 135–137, 135n4, 139–141, 139n13, 140n14, 166, 168, 209, 220, 265 generosity 157, 159, 179n27, 185, 198–199, 213, 222, 244 genesis 27, 29 Geneta Mana 126 genius 220n2, 252n36 geophysics 28 Gigantomachia 99 Gilgamesh 212n15 Giver of Joy and Beneficent 151, 161, 214, 259, 261 Glaukos 135n4, 139–141 gnosis 45, 81 Gnostic 36, 37, 40, 67, 73 god, gods 2, 7, 8n2, 19–21, 20n7, 23–38, 32n20, 39n46, 42–43, 45–59, 51–52, 55, 60–61, 61n35, 63–74, 64, 68, 71, 73, 78– 79, 81, 84–87, 87n6, 89–92, 91n12, 92, 94, 98–99, 99n6, 101–102, 102n9, 105, 110, 113, 115n4, 116–118, 123–124, 124n9, 126n11, 127–128, 135, 135n4, 140, 144, 146, 147n35, 148–150, 153, 156–157, 161n66, 175, 177n24, 178, 193n53, 195, 195n56, 199, 203–204, 204n6, 214, 217, 223, 224n28, 225, 253

336 Good

21, 25, 27–28, 38–39, 41, 52, 66, 71, 72, 129, 266 Götterdammerung 193 Granikos 107 Great Pan 49 Great Year 48, 97 Great Altar at Pergamon 229 great natures 173, 177 Greece 10, 14, 50, 73, 75, 94, 101, 114–115, 118, 135n4, 144, 147, 150, 151, 154, 156, 162n67, 169, 180, 193n53, 204, 258–259, 261 Greek romance (novel) 219, 219n22, 224, 224n28 guilt 22n13, 50, 111, 121n3 gymnasion 11n3, 137n8 Hades 35, 53–54, 56–57, 60, 66, 69, 73, 151 Halikarnassos 154 harmony of spheres 56 Haroueris 40 heimarmene 87n6 Hekate’s recesses 54 Hektor 193, 195, 212 Helen 122 Helios 149, 152n42, 154n47, 159 Hellenistic world 8, 12, 25–26, 39, 65, 67, 73, 81, 84, 88n7, 90–93, 108, 154, 172–173, 229 Heraclitan flux 266 Herakles (Herakleidai, Herakleion) 99, 124, 127, 135n4, 152, 176–178, 183, 183n31 heredity (hereditary) 111, 113 hermeneutics 208n11 Hermes 71–73 heros 51 Hestia 105, 122n6 hetaira, hetairai 190 Heuresis or Inventio Osiridis 77n28 High Classical 229 Hippolytos 176 Hipponion tablet 58n31 homoeostatic condition 26n3 horama 104 Horos 71–72, 72n14 human sacrifice 18, 45, 122n5, 123n7, 124, 161n66 human and daimonic worlds 205 hypomnema 198n60 hypostases 16, 57 hypotaxis 230n5

index of subjects Iacchos 154n47 iconoclast 23 Idaian Daktyloi 54 Ideas (see Forms) identical reconstitution 203 ideology (ideological) 82, 90, 92, 99n6, 101, 107, 197n58, 219n21, 234n14, 259 idyllic landscapes 258 illusion 164, 194n54, 211 immanentism 38–39 imperator 10, 51, 198, 223 imperial cult 67, 74n17, 152n43 individualistic detail 251 infinity of worlds 81 Inimitable Livers 161, 189, 191, 215 Ino 135 Inseparable in Death 189, 192, 195, 195n55, 215, 218, 225 inspiration 46, 66 intelligible central fire 20, 21 interpretatio graeca 98n5 intertextuality 179, 186, 264 Inventio Osiridis 77n28 Iole 178 Ipsos 154, 176, 176n22, 189–190 Isandros 140 Isis (Isism) 40, 49, 67–68, 71–77, 72n14, 76n25, 76n27, 77n28, 99, 99n6, 100n6, 195n55, 199, 219n22, 223, 225 Ismenos 156 Isodaetes 66 isolation 174, 192n52, 193, 199, 252 Issos 255n41 Iuuenalia 182 Jahweh 34 Jansenism 128n14 Janus 126 Jerusalem 183, 195n56, 208, 210, 216 Jewish religion 34n28, 124 Joy-giver and Beneficent 259 Judaea 216 Judaism 69 Julio-Claudian 77n28, 137–139, 141, 150n39, 153, 158, 162, 168 Jupiter 105, 115n4, 124, 126, 146 kairos 87, 87n6, 201 Kallimachean time 206

index of subjects kalon (to) 42n58, 48, 55 Kanopos 223 Kassandreia 156 katabasis 211 Kataibates 154n47 Kerameikos 178 kernels 208n11 kinesis 42 Kirke 72 Knidos 67, 99, 100n6 koine 232, 232n9 korakes 102, 102n9 Korybantes 54 kosmos 20n7, 21, 25–30, 32, 35–37, 41, 64, 70, 72n14, 78, 79, 127, 203 Krommyonian sow 121 Kronos 49, 54, 68 Kroton 123 ktistes 121n3 Kybele 105 kykeon 72 Kyklades 154, 181 kykosas 72 Kyrene 137 laesa maiestas 147n33 Lakedaimonians 234–235, 237, 241 lamentation (lament) 56–57, 88–89, 94, 165, 196, 217, 222–224, 224n28, 230n5, 258, 261, 265 Lamprias Catalogue 109n12, 233n10 Larentia 126 Lares 126–127 Latin 13–14, 30n15, 77n28, 83n3, 84, 100n7, 108, 108n8, 109n11, 110, 119, 125, 200n2, 244n27, 252n36 Laurentia 124 Lebadaia 54n25 Lethe 58, 58n31 Leuke Kome (White Village) 180, 180n28, 181, 186, 189, 216–217 Leuktra 18n3, 45, 120 Libas 183 liberation of Greece 144, 150n39, 154, 156n52 liberti 76 Libitina 126 lion(s) 72, 98–99, 160n64, 177n24, 213, 257– 258, 260

337 Lissos 244–246, 254 literalism 28 logioi 97 logos, logoi 20n7, 21n11, 25, 31–33, 37, 39, 51, 58, 61–62, 70–73, 72n14, 76, 76n26, 78, 108, 187 Louvre Hymn 74 Lupercalia 126–127, 210 luxury 93n14, 144n28, 147n35, 151, 159, 161n66, 165, 188, 190–191, 193, 211, 257 Lysis 201, 201n3, 202n3 Ma 91n12 maenads 99 magistra vitae 21 makarion 55 Makedonia 179, 189, 198 Manicheans 128n14 Mannerism 229, 229n1–2 Marathon 107 Mars 262 mathematicals 27 matricide 142, 150n39, 151 Matronalia 126 Matuta 126 Megabyzos 180n28 Megara 160n65, 181 melodramatic 51, 96, 191, 242 Memphis 75 metabolai 83n3 metempsychosis (see reincarnation) miasma 151 Middle Platonism 19, 20, 21n11, 25–28, 31, 33n23, 34–35, 38, 42n58, 46n6, 47n6, 59, 63, 65, 71n14, 76–77, 78n1, 147, 205 Miletos 118 Milky Way 56n27 Minos 126 Minotaur 121, 122n5 Misenum 215, 220 Mithraism 69n6 moira, moirai 40, 54, 81n1 Molossian king (and molossians) 121, 234, 237, 237n16 Monad 35, 40 monarchia 88 Moneta 126 monotheism 79, 128

338 monsters 48, 121, 250 moon 24n16, 40, 48, 52–57, 60, 63, 68, 72 moral 21, 56n28, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 85, 87, 92– 93, 97, 142, 147, 157, 171n12, 173n16, 187, 199, 230n3, 231n5, 234n14, 257, 259n49, 264 Moses 34 Mounychion 155 mummy (see skeleton) Muses 13, 161n66 music 66, 128, 151, 191–192, 215, 264 Mutina 210 Mystagogue (mystagogos) 86, 128 mystoi 58n31 mysteries 60, 64, 74n17, 76, 77, 151, 155, 194n54 myth, mythoi 23, 24n16, 28n7, 34, 40–41, 49, 51–53, 57–65, 59n32, 67, 71, 73–74, 76, 121, 124n9, 195n56, 200n1, 201–202, 214, 263, 265. Naiads 63 narrative (narratology) 3, 83n3, 166n73, 186, 189, 191, 200, 200n1, 202, 204–206, 208–209, 208n11, 216, 218, 221, 222n26, 225–227, 230n3, 231–232, 232n8, 246– 247, 250, 253 Navigium Isidis 77n28 Naxos 235 Nekyia 58, 110 nemesis 79, 86, 90 Neoplatonism 41, 44n1, 74 Neopythagoreans (see Pythagoreans) Nerogonia (neronia, neronian) 133, 139, 142, 153, 156–158, 160, 165–166, 188, 196, 207, 229, 229n1–2, 265 Nikon 248, 253 noeton 25, 34, 41, 55, 63, 72n14 Notos 183, 210, 245 nous 20, 20n7, 25–26, 31–36, 38, 40–42, 44, 51–52, 54–56, 60–65, 70, 76n26, 92–93, 103, 127, 202, 205 novel (see Greek romance) Numa 124, 124n9, 126 numen 84 Numicius 124n9 Nyktelios 66 nymphs (nymphaion) 63, 161n66, 245, 247

index of subjects October equus 125–127 Oineus 141 Okeanos 73 Olympia 144, 156 omens (see portents) One 7, 20n7, 21, 22n13, 27, 35–26, 41, 49, 63, 70 open/closed space 187, 187n38 oracles (oracular)17, 45, 53–54, 64, 104, 114–115, 115n3–4, 116n5, 117–120, 118n9, 119n10, 122n6, 153 oriental cults 104 ornamenta consularia 14 Oromazdes 68, 69n6 Orphic 17, 69n6 Osiris 39n48, 49, 68, 71–74, 76–77, 76n26–27, 77n29, 99, 99n6, 195 ostentum 108 other-worldly dimension 199 Oudora 54 overdetermination 91 pacifist 128 pageantry 151, 256 paian 66 painting 106, 175, 229–230, 229n2, 255n41, 256, 260, 262–263 Palestine 206 palingenesis (see reincarnation) Pan 49, 126, 213, 258, 261 Panathenaic 77n28, 115n2, 119, 128, 153, 155– 156, 178 pansyncretism 73 pantheism 73 paradeigma, -mata 20, 25–27, 32–33, 41, 70– 71, 129 Paraitonion 192 parallelism 74n17, 112n6, 116, 167n1, 172, 180, 186, 186n36, 199, 222, 241n23, 261, 265 Parilia 126 Parmenidean interpretation 33 Parthia (Parthian campaign, war) 87, 168n5, 173, 180, 185–187, 186n35, 189, 207, 209– 211, 216, 225–227 Pasiphae 122 passion 32n20, 56, 60, 73, 79, 85, 88, 136, 154, 173, 177–178, 187, 189, 206–207, 213–215, 227, 251–258, 266 pathos 37

339

index of subjects Patrai 99, 178 patris 78 Patroklos 191, 210, 224n28 Paxoi 49 pederasty 127 Peirithoos 121n2 Peloponnesos 154, 189, 227, 234, 248, 250, 255 Pelousion 182, 184, 208, 210, 216 pempad 66 Penia 76n25 penteres 251 Pergamon 88n7, 99, 100n6, 112, 144, 178, 229 periodic (periodicity) 230, 231, 233, 238, 238n18, 240, 254, 255, 260, 265 Persephone 49, 99, 105 Persian 47, 69, 90, 115 perversity 172, 244, 250 Pharos 89, 192, 223, 252 Phenomenon, phenomena 19, 24–25, 34, 59, 92, 97, 128, 171, 189, 193, 200n2, 201, 203–204, 206, 208, 210, 213, 220, 227, 251, 263n53, 266 philanthropia 128, 197n58 philathenian 160 philhellenism 144–145, 161, 180n28 Philippi 50n13, 88, 92, 98, 98n3, 169n5, 184, 186, 198, 210 philosophia 170n9 philotimia 154, 154n48 Phoibos 66 phronimon (to) 70 Phrygian theology 47 phylai 153 physis 40, 72n14 pia fraus 115 Picus 124, 126 Plataiai 115, 117, 120 Platonic-Pythagorean revival 18 Platonism 7, 11n3, 19, 20n8, 21, 29–31, 41n58, 48, 59, 71, 78n1, 103, 171, 206 plebs 198 plot 193, 208, 208n11, 212–214, 212n15, 218, 219, 227 Plotinian ecstasy 75 Plouton 49, 73 pneuma 46, 66 poetic justice 164, 197 poison 156, 193 pollution 18, 151

polytheism 74, 128 pompe 99n6 Pompeian fleet 252 Pontifices 126 portents 2, 23–24, 50, 51n14, 79, 96–98, 98n4, 100, 102n9–10, 104–105, 120, 178–179, 248, 249 Poseidon 121, 121n2, 127, 154n47, 176, 176n22 pragmatike historia 93, 101, 120 praktikon (to) 59n32 Priene 161 Proculus, Julius 124 Prokrustes 122 prolepsis 202, 209, 227, 256 pronoia 3, 84, 93, 169 propaganda 14, 49n10, 94, 99n6, 143, 146n32, 153n45, 159, 163n69, 174–175, 175n19, 184, 190n45, 195n56, 207, 225, 227, 246, 249, 249n33 prophecy 22, 46, 66, 90 proscriptions 162, 163n69, 164, 215, 220 protagonists 2, 140, 164, 171, 204, 208n11, 215, 219, 221, 221n26, 227, 242, 244, 246, 251, 253 providence 45, 45n3, 56n28, 78n1, 79, 81, 83–85, 87–89, 89n9, 93, 95, 170n11, 224n28 psyche, psychai 20, 41, 51, 54–56, 61–65, 70, 92–93, 202–203, 205, 207, 222, 250 psychological 3, 94–98, 100, 103n2, 104, 106–108, 110, 189, 202, 206, 211, 222, 222n26, 231, 234n14, 242, 246, 250, 262, 263n53 purgatory 47, 170, 203 Pydna 235, 237, 243 Pythagoreanism ([Neo]pythagoreans) 15, 17, 18n3, 23n15, 24n16, 30n15, 31, 35, 48, 53n20, 78n1, 97, 124, 124n9, 126n11, 202n3, 205n7 Pythian (games) 150n39, 160 Python 48, 54 Pythopolis 117 Quellenforscher, -ung 60, 107n7 Quellenkritik 102n9 Quirinus 126 quotations (see citations)

340 rationalism 79, 85, 121n3, 205n7 réalisme historico-géographique 121 rebirth (see reincarnation) recurrence of themes 214 Red Sea 48, 54, 182 Regia 126 reincarnation (metempsychosis, rebirth) 52, 53, 56, 56n28, 57–59, 59n32, 60, 65, 93, 147, 150, 151, 169, 170n9, 199, 201–204, 202n3, 227 Renaissance 229, 230 Retribution 2, 50, 51, 84, 85, 91, 98n5, 110, 111– 112, 111n4, 113n8, 115, 137, 165 reversal (in luck) 83, 89, 106, 181, 245 Rhodian fleet 244, 245 Rhoiteion 192n52 rhythm 192, 230n5, 239n20, 244n26, 262n52 Rome 145, 146, 151, 152, 152n42, 156, 156n54, 163n69, 164, 169, 175, 204, 211, 223, 231n7, 252, 257–259, 266n57 Romulus 51n16, 115, 116, 121–124, 123n7, 123n8, 126, 167, 168n3 Rubicon 106, 107, 107n7, 108 ruler cult 152 sacrilege (sacrilegious) 143, 144, 155n51, 179n27 Salamis 18n3, 174, 176, 176n22, 184, 187, 197, 210 Salii 126 salvation 37, 61, 92, 94, 142, 193, 210, 216, 235 Samnite War 119 Samos 182 sanctus 11 Sarapis 49, 58, 73, 77n28, 98, 98n5 Saturnus 126 Satyr(s) 99, 100, 100n7, 105, 213, 258, 261 Schulplatonismus 20 science 25, 26, 66, 128 Scipionic epigrams 139 sea 47, 48, 52, 52n17, 54, 54n23, 56, 56n27, 57n29, 61, 65, 68, 94, 100, 101, 105, 108n9, 121, 142, 176, 181, 182, 187–188, 192n52, 193, 199, 210–212, 214–216, 235, 237, 243– 248, 250–254, 264 Selene 60, 91n12, 105 Seleukid kingdom 185 self-destruction 191, 191n46, 192

index of subjects self-sufficiency 193n53 semeion 201n3 Semele 135, 135n5 Semiramis 135n3 Septuagint 34 Serapeum 76n27 shaman 65 Sibyl (Sibylline Books) 119, 158 Sicily 187 Sidon 179–181 signs 97, 120 Siwah 102, 182 Sikyon 136, 154, 215 Silenoi 152 Silver Shields 111 Simmias 56n28, 61 skeleton 194, 194n54, 194n55, 195n55, 217 Skiron 122 Skyros 117 Smyrna 10, 179n27 Solymoi 140 soma 51, 70 soothsayer 24, 91, 97, 118, 119, 225 Soteres 153, 156n52 soteria 36, 37 soul 7, 17, 20, 20n7, 21–23, 23n3, 27, 28, 32, 33, 36–41, 39n48, 43n1, 44, 47–48, 47n7, 51–65, 52n17, 53n20, 54n24, 56n27, 58n31, 59n32, 63n38, 66, 70–73, 70n11, 80n3, 89, 92–94, 97, 101, 103, 108, 110, 123n8, 126n11, 128, 142, 148, 151, 161n66, 164, 170, 171, 171n13, 172, 199, 201–203, 202n3, 205, 212–214, 218, 227, 248, 251, 252, 265 source(s) 12, 23, 28, 29, 39, 47, 47n6, 49n10, 53n20, 57n29, 65, 67, 67n2, 68, 69, 71, 75, 79, 81n2, 82, 83, 88, 88n8, 89, 89n9, 90, 94, 98n5, 102, 102n9, 102n10, 104, 106, 107, 107n7, 109n11, 112n6, 114–119, 121, 112n4, 123n8, 124–125, 125n10, 141, 146, 152–154, 152n44, 156n52, 159n61, 162n67, 163n69, 165n72, 169n5, 200n1, 206n9, 212n16, 222, 222n26, 224, 226–228, 231, 234n14, 238n17, 240n21, 241, 244n27, 247, 252, 252n36, 260 Sparta 155n50, 189, 201 spoudaioi 53n20 star(s) 41, 55, 60, 62, 65, 66, 91, 150 stasis 93

341

index of subjects statue

14, 23, 23n15, 51n14, 85, 91, 91n12, 92, 99, 100n6, 106n5, 111, 111n4, 113, 116, 117, 119, 137, 144, 150, 152n42, 156, 156n54, 163n69, 168, 178n26, 220, 249, 256 Stoicism (Stoic) 2, 11, 11n3, 12, 32, 36, 36n34, 37, 38, 41, 43, 45n3, 47, 49n11, 51n16, 53, 53n20, 67, 67n2, 68, 73, 78–79, 78n1, 80n3, 84, 127, 136, 145, 166, 169, 203, 204n6, 259n49 style 14n9, 18, 94, 101, 122n5, 142, 157–164, 179, 229–238, 238n18, 253–255, 254n40, 259– 260, 259n48, 265 Styx 56, 56n27, 60 suicide 92, 112, 112n7, 146, 162, 164n70, 165, 174, 186, 192, 193, 209, 216–220, 222 sun (Sol) 19n7, 21n11, 35, 37, 40, 41, 42, 53, 53n21, 54, 55, 56, 68, 72, 101, 150, 152n42, 177n24 superstition 15, 22, 24n17, 63, 79, 80, 93, 120 symphony 214, 263 symposion 194n55 Synapothanoumenoi 215, 224n28 synkrisis, synkriseis 143, 165, 167n1, 171, 171n12, 198, 217, 218, 230, 265 Syracuse 24, 94, 97, 118, 120 Syria 179, 182, 189 Tainaron 209 Tarentum 207 Tarsos 88, 162n67, 179, 185, 189, 191, 214, 215, 256, 261, 263n53 taxis 18 technitai 161, 179n27 telete 60 teleute 60 telos 19, 20, 21, 26, 31, 76, 79, 123n8, 266 temporality 202–205, 207, 210, 217 Terminus 126 Tethys in Etruria 122n6 tettix 94 Thamous 48 Thasos 237 Theanor 56n28, 61, 201, 201n3, 202n3 Thebes 10, 98, 213 theion 27, 41, 55, 84, 110 theism 7, 26, 55 theologia 49n11 Theon 66, 78n1, 110 theoretike 59n32

theoria 153n47 Theseus 117, 121, 121n2, 121n3, 122, 122n4, 167, 167n3, 176 Thespesios 53, 58 Thespiai 144 Thessalia 189 thiasos 60, 99, 151, 178, 189n44, 191, 194, 195, 212, 214, 226, 258, 259, 260, 261 Thrace 247 threnos (threnody) 195n56, 199, 224n28 thyrsos, -oi 213, 259, 261 timai 154n48 Timarchos 34, 41, 56, 57, 60, 61, 62, 65, 201 time (temporality) 3, 26, 27, 29, 30, 39, 47, 60, 68, 70, 116, 135, 142, 156, 160, 161, 169– 172, 190, 196, 199, 200–204, 200n1, 204n6, 206–207, 209, 214, 215, 222n26, 227 Timoneion 192, 193, 193n52, 193n53, 216, 252 Titans 45 tolme, tolmai 107, 108 tomb 13, 160n64, 168, 185, 192, 193, 193n52, 196, 198, 201, 201n3, 224n28, 225n28 topoi 78n1 transcendence (transcendent, transcendentalism) 7, 8, 25, 30–33, 35–38, 41, 65, 71, 128 transformation 47, 49n11, 54, 55, 56, 61, 64, 72, 73, 84, 92, 123n8, 147, 150, 151n41 Trimalchio(nis) 161, 229, 263 triumph 77n28, 86, 90, 114, 136, 150, 160n64, 179, 180, 209, 223, 254, 260, 262 Troad 192n52 Troglodytes 47, 54n23 Trojan horse 127 truth 49n11, 173n16, 194n54, 219n21, 249n33 Tyche (tychai) 2, 3, 15, 44n1, 73, 79, 81–95, 81n1, 81n2, 83n3, 87n6, 89n9, 91n12, 93n14, 95n15, 108, 111, 113n8, 169, 170n11, 173, 173n17, 174n17 Typhon(s) 39n48, 45, 54, 68, 71, 73, 182 tyrannos (tyrant) 93, 107, 140n15, 144, 156 Tyros 180n29 underworld

58n31, 110, 121, 151, 192n51, 202

vegetarianism 17 Veii 116, 118 Veneralia 126 ventus-spiritus 252n36

342

index of subjects

Venus 90, 91n12, 106n5, 126 Vesta (and vestals) 126, 220 Vesuvius 158 vice 84, 88, 89, 92, 110, 113, 128, 136, 140, 140n15, 157, 158, 158n58, 166, 170n11, 172, 173, 193, 199, 206, 214, 215, 256, 259, 264 victory (see also triumph) 68, 88, 90, 106, 115, 116, 182, 184, 187, 197, 210, 254, 256 Vicus Patricius 126 viper 52, 64, 148, 148n36, 150, 151 visions 21n11, 22, 28, 41, 41n58, 42, 50, 50n13, 51, 52, 53n21, 57, 61, 63, 64, 65, 66, 70, 73, 75, 94, 104, 108, 148, 202n3, 205, 245, 281–282 Vulcanus (temple of) 126 water (symbolic value) 58, 98, 100, 147, 215, 265 White Village (see Leuke Kome) Witch 24 womanizing, womanizer 159, 160, 173, 177, 213, 256 Xouthoi

261

Zagreus 66 Zaleukos 126 Zervanism 69, 69n6 Zeus (Eleutherios, Ammon, Soter, Meilichios) 63, 73, 82n2, 105, 115, 116, 121n2, 149, 154n47, 159, 161n66, 177, 178, 182, 204 Zoroaster 47n1, 126 Zoroastrianism 49, 67, 68, 69n5, 69n6 ἀδημονῶν 181n30 ἀεί 26, 29 ἀειγενής 29 ἀΐδιος 29 ἀκάθαρτοι 60 Ἀμιμητόβιοι 161 ἀμίμητον 189n44 ἀναβακχεύσας 214 ἀναρρῖψαι 109, 109n13 ἀνερρίφθω κύβος 106, 108, 109 ἀόρατον 40 ἀποθεώσεις 154 ἀπολωλεκυῖαν 211, 212n14, 248, 248n32, 253 ἀπορροαί 72n14

ἀρετή, -αί 20n10, 21, 21n10, 93, 230n3 ἀρίστη ἐξαλλαγή 54, 55 ἀρχή 21n10, 35n30, 127, 236 ἀσέβεια 84 ἀτίμως 199 αὐτοῦ (ἀπ’) 38, 39 αὐτοῦ (ἐξ) 38, 39 ἄωροι 57 βαρυδαίμων 89 βασιλικῶς 196, 198 βελτίονες 54, 56 βραχὺς ὁ βίος 196n57 βραχὺς χρόνος 194n55, 196, 196n57, 223 γένεσις 58, 60, 71 γεννήσας πατήρ 33 γῆν νεῦσις (ἐπί) 58 δαίμων, δαίμονες 53n20, 86, 87n5, 196n57, 252n36 δειλῶς 199 διαλάμψαι 148, 149 δόξα, -αι 11, 120n10 δυσωπία 231n7 εἶδος, εἴδη 30, 39, 72n14, 128n14, 148 εἴδωλα 36 εἰκών, εἰκόνες 54, 55, 71, 72n14 εἰρομένη λέξις 238n18 ἐκπεσεῖν 214 ἐλευθερία, -αι; ἐλευθέριος, -οι 149, 149n37, 198, 223 ἐμφάσεις 36 ἐξαλλαγή (see ἀρίστη ἐξαλλαγή) ἐξομοίωσις, -σεις 20n10, 21 ἕπεσθαι θεῷ 21, 21n10 ἐπιθυμία 59 ἐπιλάμψας 149, 149n37 ἐπιμανῶς 134n3 ἐπιφανῶς 134n3, 135n3 εὐγένεια 220 εὐγνώμων 198 εὐεργεσία, εὐεργέτης 30, 189n44, 234, 235n15, 236, 237n17, 240, 240n21 εὐθυμία 127 εὐλάβεια 37 ἐφετόν 41n58, 54, 123 ἔχει τι καὶ φέρεται 38

343

index of subjects ζωή

40, 47n3

Ἡγεμών 154 ἦθος 87n5, 148 Ἥλιος 53n21, 149n37, 150n39 Ἠλύσιον Πεδίον 53n20 ἡμίθεοι 47n2 ἤπειρος, -οι 222, 234, 236, 237n16 ἥρωας 53n20 θαλίαι 215 θειασμός 24n17 θεῖον, θεῖα, θειότης 21, 21n10, 36, 41n58, 42n58, 54, 55, 56, 61, 92, 93, 123 θέμις 60, 195n56 θεός, θεοί 19, 20n10, 21, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39n46, 86, 110, 123n8, 148, 149n37, 153n46, 156, 156n53, 175, 189n44, 223 θεωρητικὸς βίος 57n29 ἰδέα, -αι ἱερός, -οι Ἰνδικῆς Ἱσμηνοῦ

21, 21n10 11, 149n37, 177 149 156, 156n53

καθαρόν 103 καλλιγραφία 231, 231n7 κάλλιστον καὶ μακαριώτατον 123n8 καλός; καλόν, καλά 20, 20n10, 21, 41n58, 54, 60, 93n14, 175n18, 217, 261 καταδαρθών 60 κατεστραμμένη λέξις 238n18 κίνησις 40 κλαυθμὸς βρεφῶν 108, 192n51 κλειδοῦχοι 40 κοινή, -ης 232, 236, 248, 253 κόσμος 21n10, 149n37 κρᾶσις 103 κρείττονες 61 κύβος 106, 108, 109, 109n13 κῶμοι 215 λαμπρῶς 198 λόγος, λόγοι 32, 35n30, 72n14, 133, 252, 261 μακαριώτατον τέλος 123n8 μεγάλαι φύσεις 173, 177 μέθεξις 21, 21n10, 34

μέρος 38 μίμημα, μιμήματα 71, 127 μύησις 127 μυσταγωγός 86, 87n5 νοητόν, νοητά 39, 39n46, 39n48, 41n58, 42n58 72n14 νοῦς 32, 39n46, 72 οἰκονομία 84 οἴκτρῶς 199 ὁμοιότης, ὁμοιότητες 21n10, 72n14 ὁμοίωσις θεῷ 19, 21, 31, 38 ὄναρ 59 πάθος, πάθη 103, 162, 258 παράδειγμα 20n10 παραδιόρθωσις 259n49 παρανομία 84 Πινδαρικῆς 148n36 πλημμέλεια 147 πλήρωσις 59 πολυτελῶς 196 πρακτικὸς βίος 57n29, 58 πράξεις-ἀρεταί 230n3 προσαπόλλυμι 211, 248, 249n32 πρῶτου καὶ κυριώτατου πάντων 71n12 πυθόχρηστος 115n4 ῥόθια

57

σαλεύω 97n2 σκιά 59, 261 σκοπός 84 σοβαρῶς 226, 244, 244n25, 245, 253 στοιχεῖα 35 σύγκρισις 231n7 συμπάθειαν 53n20 συμπόσια 215 συναποθανούμενοι 193 Σωτῆρες 153n46 τελετὴ τελειοτάτη 127 τελευταῖον κακόν 180, 189, 214, 264 τέλος, τέλη 123n8, 185, 224, 261 τεχνίτης 150n39 τὸ ἀγαθόν 21, 39n48, 72, 190 τὸ ἄλογον 58, 103 τὸ γιγνόμενον 26, 29, 71

344 τὸ ἕν 35n30 τὸ θεωρεῖν 58 τὸ λογιστικὸν καὶ φρονιστικόν 103 τὸ μαντικόν 103 τὸ ὄν 29 τὸ πρακτικόν 58 τὸ φανταστικόν 103 τὸ φρονοῦν 58 τραγικώτατος μῦθος 122n5 τρόπος, τρόποι 86, 87n5, 236 τρυφή 211, 257 τύχη (θεία τις) 93n14

index of subjects φθόνος 92, 236 φθορά 40 φιλάνθρωπον φύσει 197 φορουμένων 258, 258n46, 261 φύσις, φύσεις 21, 21n10, 35n30, 173, 177, 197, 224n28 χάρις, χάρεις 163, 175, 194, 234 χάσμα 56n27, 57 χρηστός, -οι 86, 148, 198 χρόνῳ (ἐν) 27 ψυχή, ψυχαί

ὑβρισταί 173, 177 ὕλη 71, 139

53n20, 148, 218, 234, 248