The Oxford Handbook of the Second Sophistic

by Daniel S. Richter

  In The Daimonion of Socrates, the eschatological vision is colored by local identity. The mythical part is triggered by the visionary Timarchus, descending into the oracular cave of Trophonius at Lebedaea, not far from Plutarch’s Chaeronea. Here the scheme of nous, soul, and body appears again. This time souls ascend after death guided by nous, which floats above them like a cork. Souls most docile to nous have straight upward movements and attain their goal after passing through several spheres, each presided over by a Gnostic-sounding divinity (591b–592b). The myth of The Delay of the Divinity is more traditional but ends with a startling contemporary reference. The emperor Nero, who once was distinguished for his arias, is being horribly tormented, when suddenly a mysterious supernatural voice directs the hellish fiends to reincarnate him as a “vocal creature of the marshes,” since he had granted freedom “to the nation most loved by the gods” (567f–568a).

  These myths are quite original, even if their inspiration is from Plato. They also draw upon centuries of philosophical interaction with the Timaeus and the history of its interpretation. Though quite different, each myth fulfills a specific task but connects, at least remotely, with the others. At the same time they defy a comprehensive synthesis or any overarching scheme (Deuse 2010, 173–174, 193, 197). Transcending personal experience, as the visionary gazes upon the eschatological scene above, he unveils the fears and hopes, the doubts and beliefs of human beings below.

  One of the most profound religious passages is the speech of Plutarch’s teacher, Ammonius, at the end of The E at Delphi (391e–394c). Behind Apollon, the god of the shrine, is a supreme, monotheistic God living in instantaneous eternity (apparently for the first time in intellectual history). He alone can truly be called Being, in contrast to mere mortals (392a–393b). Thus, the real meaning of the mysterious E (or Ei) which greeted visitors arriving at Delphi is “Thou art,” or better, “Thou art One” (393b). God is simple, without parts and is One, or the One, but is also the Creator (Demiurge), who exercises providence over the world. A lesser god or daimon is responsible for the destructive aspects of the sun. Parts sound like Plutarch, but the dogmatic tone is uncharacteristic. Moreover, in On Isis and Osiris, which employs a similar allegorical interpretation, he identifies God with Being and the Good, but not with the One (352a, 372e–f). The transitoriness of human beings, their life in constant flux, and the denial of real being to them (392c–e) runs counter to On Tranquility of Mind (473d–e). Plutarch answers Platonic Question 2 (“Why Plato calls God ‘Father and Maker’ ”) by declaring that since the World Soul possesses intelligence, it has a part of God (Quaest. Plat. 1001b–c), “not by his agency but both from him as source and out of his substance” (Loeb). This implies that human beings as well as God possess real being (cf. De tranq. anim. 473d).

  Thus, behind the Apollo of popular belief, and the Sun, Ammonius reveals the supreme God of Middle Platonism, identifiable with Being, the Good, and, at least here, the One. The allegorical interpretation of religious texts offered new possibilities to educated Greco-Romans. One could remain faithful to the patrios pistis (the traditional religion) in this case, while simultaneously worshipping a Middle Platonic monotheistic God (Brenk 2012, 81–84). Since the setting is the religious shrine of Delphi and the reference is to worship of the god there, this is not just philosophical, but a form of religious “pagan monotheism.” There are parallels in the thought, terminology, and method of Philo of Alexandria, a generation before Plutarch, in particular, the personalization of the philosophical God. Ammonius signifies this by the use of both the neuter and the masculine forms in Greek for “being” or “one.” Like Philo, at times Plutarch even speaks as though the ultimate basis of knowledge about the supernatural is not to be found in philosophy but in religion (Hirsch-Luipold, 2005, 144–148, 153, 156–161).

  Almost from its creation, the Hellenistic Isis cult was an international religion of the elite. In this respect, it resembles the later Imperial Cult. The cult enjoyed imperial favor both in the Julio-Claudian and Flavian dynasties. Plutarch’s interest may have been stirred while young, when he had traveled to Egypt, and several of his friends had connections there, for example, the family of Philopappus, whose monument still stands at Athens. Another friend, Cornelius Pulcher, would become under Hadrian, a iuridicus Aegypti (an equestrian official under Trajan and Hadrian whose functions are not clear). The parents of Clea, the addressee of On Isis and Osiris, already belonged to the cult when Clea was young (De Is. et Os. 364e). Besides being a priestess of Apollo at Delphi, Clea herself, evidently a wealthy landowner at Chaeronea, was a priestess of Isis there (351e, 352c). The religion, moreover, had existed for decades at Chaeronea. Plutarch’s strategy, in any case, is through allegory to domesticate and Platonize the religion, thus neutralizing it. Essentially, he created for it a Middle Platonic theology, thus following a tradition of allegorical interpretation which had already had some success in Judaism and which would have a remarkable future in Christianity. Through the long descriptions and enormous detail involving Egyptian myths and rituals, and his Platonic theology, he undoubtedly and perhaps unintentionally, contributed to the popularity of the cult.

  From the start, the religion is seen as monotheistic, much as “Ammonius” treated the Delphic cult. The goal is the “assimilation to God” of Middle Platonism (De Is. et Os. 351c–f), to a God identified with Osiris, “who is the First, the Lord, the Intelligible” (352a), the Good (372e–f), and the destiny of the soul (374d). The vast majority of On Isis and Osiris, however, consists of minute descriptions of Egyptian myth and ritual. Plutarch does not bowdlerize these but explains at one point, rather lamely, that “nothing unseemly really happened this way” (355b). Different interpretations are offered, such as the euhemeristic, the dualistic, and the daimonic, but the final and best consists of Middle Platonic philosophical allegory. Thus, the foreign religion is absorbed into Greco-Roman culture along the lines suggested by Dawson (1992, 74, 109–110), but he also seems somewhat influenced by Egyptian religion (Brenk 2017, 18–19; Pelling 2016, 48). While doing so, Plutarch dazzles the reader with the impression of his impeccable authority in Egyptology.

  Here and elsewhere, Plutarch champions the primacy of Greek culture and religion, and, in effect, subtly disparages Egyptian wisdom (Richter 2011, 213–214, 218–219, 226). For example, he had earlier claimed, incredibly, that Egyptian religion contained nothing irrational, fabulous, or superstitious. Everything had moral or practical value, or at least a foundation in history or science (De Is. et Os. 353e–f). Immediately, Egyptian animal worship comes to mind, against which Philo and other Greco-Roman authors railed. For Plutarch, the Egyptian practice is a dangerous superstitious (379e). Yet, he finds a religious justification for it, provided the god, not the animal is worshipped (382a–b). Plutarch’s erudite essay, then, based on the rather ancient practice of the religion, stands in contrast to Apuleius’s satirical account of the contemporary cult in Cenchrae and in Rome. Apuleius’s “Isis Book” seems hardly designed to encourage conversion among a skeptical well-educated elite. On the other hand, Plutarch’s treatise, with its impressive sources and philosophical interpretations could easily inspire interest and respect, if not conversion.

  ETHICS

  One of Plutarch’s greatest contributions was to Platonize ethics, a field long dominated by Stoics and Epicureans. Against both of them, he reaffirmed the essential unity of a human being, citing Plato in virtually every essay. In the strictest form of their teaching, the Stoics had emphasized fate and determinism. They also held that all virtues were one, that all other goods were “indifferent” in respect to virtue, and that progress in virtue was nonexistent (one was either good or bad). In Plutarch’s view, Stoicism often went against common sense, for example, in its definition of good and evil (De Stoic. 1034c, 1040d–e, 1053b–c, 1055d–f; Comm. not. 1063a–b, 1069f–1070b). Plutarch condemned the Epicureans’ highest good as pleasure, claiming that they indulged in unworthy ones, while rejecting th
e highest (e.g., 1088d–e). He based his own ethics on an acknowledgment of the weakness of human nature but with the optimistic view that we can control this weakness through reason. He also believed that a natural disposition was not enough. One could achieve the philosophical goals of self-sufficiency, immunity to pain, inner tranquility, and assimilation to God, only through effort (Becchi 2012, 43, 48).

  Strict Stoic teaching sought the elimination of all passions, themselves regarded as “judgments.” For Plutarch, passions, properly guided by reason, which he calls eupatheiai, are actually necessary for virtue (Bonazzi 2012, 330). He was, however, profoundly influenced by the Platonic doctrine that vice arose in great part from ignorance. This belief, in a close relationship between false judgments and vice, brings him close to the Stoics. Another fundamental element of his moral teaching was his understanding of the human composite as body, soul (psyche), and intellect (nous), with the passions located in the psyche. With these views in mind, not surprisingly, he wrote a large number of essays in which he attempted to get to the intellectual errors, especially profound, underlying ones, behind vices. Besides Stoic teaching, Plutarch’s “practical ethics” owe much to the Cynic-Stoic and Epicurean tradition (Roskam and Van der Stockt 2011; Van Hoof 2010). However, Stoics and Epicureans in general avoided reference to the supernatural or to life after death. Somewhat surprisingly, with a few rare exceptions, Plutarch seems to follow this tradition both in his essay On Moral Virtue and in his “practical ethics.” Also, he generally makes no explicit appeal to self-sufficiency (autarkeia), a prominent part of the Cynic-Stoic and Epicurean tradition. Besides their philosophical content, his essays open a window into the interests, worries, fears, and hopes of the Second Sophistic elite. To modern eyes, their quest for moral improvement is inspiring, something evident in their statue portraits. All, apparently, were sages or philosophers (cf. Sidebottom 2009, 82–99). In Plutarch’s On Anger, the pepaideumenos should possess good breeding (εὐγένεια, 456f), prudence (φρόνησις, 456f), greatness (μέγεθος, 456f), courage (ἀνδρεία, 457d), liberality (ἐλευθεριότης, 458a–b), gentleness (πραότης, 457d, 458e), temperance (σωφροσύνη, 460d), and cheerfulness (εὐκολία, 462a), the last an unexpected but profound touch. He uses a number of strategies to motivate his reader, often an important Roman or Greek with links to the imperial administration, directing his therapy to the reader’s both psyche and nous. As for general method, he first offers some general principles, then enhances his advice with exempla (mini “case studies”), poetic citations, and includes practical steps for improvement. Apart from some fondness for Boeotian heroes, the exempla are very international.

  One can begin with Plutarch’s theoretical treatise On Moral Virtue and then examine some individual essays. On Moral Virtue, like his anti-Epicurean essay That Epicurus Actually Makes a Pleasant Life Impossible, is directed against a particular school, this time, the Stoics. The anti-Epicurean one is heavily rhetorical and obviously misrepresents Epicurean positions. In contrast, On Moral Virtue is quite objective, demonstrating an excellent understanding of Stoic ethics, and separating more extreme opinions like those of Chrysippus, from more moderate Stoic positions. The major thrust is against the passions as belonging to the rational order (“passions are judgments”). In the Platonic view, the passions are irrational, thus setting up a conflict within a human being between the passions and reason. After that, he draws swords against the Stoic goal of eradicating all passions (apatheia). In his Platonic approach, the passions should be ordered through reason, and where helpful, harnessed for good. He first, however, attacks the Stoic idea that all virtue is one (440e–441b), then the Stoic monistic, intellectualist concept of moral struggles (441b–443c). This involves appeals to personal experience and examples of how, with our mind, we can control our movements and impulses. After dismissing the absurdity of passions consisting of two swiftly oscillating contrary judgments (447b–450e), he exemplifies at great length how reason can control passions (450f–452d), ending with the importance of correct moral paideia (452d). Most of the appeals are to experience and common sense. Still he cannot restrain his Schadenfreude when noting that even the great Chrysippus twice described the irrational part (τὸ ἄλογον, τὸ παθητικόν) as essentially different from and warring with judgment (κρίσις, λογισμός; 450b–c).

  Modern scholars distinguish between “part based” ethics (based on a conflict within the parts of the soul) and “core centered” (based on a unified conception of the soul) (Gill 2006, 220, 227, 238). Plutarch’s approach is mostly “part based,” and he often divides the soul into psyche and nous. In a part-based ethics, one has difficulty explaining the unity of the soul. Plutarch’s solution is based on his theory of the world soul in the Timaeus. Despite its passions, the soul, something distinct from the intellect (nous), has an innate longing for logos and form, which are partly diffused within the soul. Thus, in contrast to Stoic teaching, even the passions can collaborate in virtue (Castelnérac 2007). On Moral Virtue advocates Aristotelian metriopatheia (a moderation of the passions) for the body-soul-mind composite (443c–d, 444e, 445f–446c), rather than Stoic apatheia (the elimination of all passions). Original with Plutarch is his conception of the Aristotelian mean in musical terms, that is, as a pleasant note between two others (444d–445a). Plutarch, however, then applies this to the emotions themselves, rather than to the result, as in Aristotle (449b; 444d–445f) (Gill 2006, 5–6, 235–37). His ethics are also “nonconsequential,” that is, not based on whether the result was good (Martin 2011).

  The remedy is generally Greek paideia, conceived as heavily, if not exclusively, moral (e.g., 451c–d, 452d–e). Putting theory into practice was another matter. We have about twenty-one essays of “practical ethics,” written especially for the elite. In his Lives of the Greeks and Romans, Plutarch often cites the dangers of excessive ambition (philotimia), which is associated with a lack of Greek paideia. A condemnation of philotimia enters in Precepts of Statecraft, obviously directed at the upper class. In other essays, we can distinguish different vices or situations which are particular afflictions of the elite: anger (toward a subordinate), excessive borrowing, being taken advantage of through flattery, dealing with enemies, distinguishing true from false friends, excessive love of wealth, offensive self-praise, and the trials of exile. In general, these essays are gems of Plutarch’s literary production, with an elevated style, numerous poetic quotations, and, especially, positive and negative exempla of (usually) famous persons affected by the particular virtue or vice.

  Only three can be discussed here, on Control of Anger, Advice to a Bride and Groom, and, briefly, The Dialogue on Love. Control of anger evidently was a favorite of this genre, and the essay is only one of two conceived of as a dialogue. The speakers are Sextius Sulla, a Carthaginian from Plutarch’s stays in Rome, a man of letters, a philosopher, and one of the principal speakers in The Face on the Moon, a dialogue probably set at Rome. The second speaker, Minicius Fundanus (who seems mostly at a loss for words) from the north of Italy, became suffect consul in 107, legate to Dalmatia, and then proconsul of Asia in 122/123. Sulla, a reformed irascible, is eager to relate his conversion through reason, to triumph over his passion. Toward the beginning, he cites the Roman philosopher Musonius Rufus for how “to come through life safe and sound” (453d). One needs constant treatment and preparation with good philosophical advice “before the storm strikes” (453f–454a). One victory brings future confidence. Nip anger in the bud and avoid occasions for it (454e–455c). Servants are excellent subjects for practicing control of anger. Nor is he loath to explain how he conquered the enemy. As an aid, he collects (surprisingly like Plutarch) “sayings and deeds,” especially of illustrious “kings and despots” (457d–e), and in the essay cites thirteen exempla, five from the Roman world.

  Sulla has, however, a profounder message, as he turns to deeper, underlying causes. Beating servants or slaves on
ly makes them worse, while winning their respect can lead to real improvement (459d–e). A major cause of anger is the inability to do without luxuries (461a). An optimistic and cheerful outlook on life can be a tremendous help to overcoming anger (462a). Righteous indignation may be justified, but one should keep it within bounds. Sudden, unexpected events can trigger anger. Therefore, one should cultivate a philosophical attitude ahead of time. For instance, should one’s son die, one has already been prepared, and can say to oneself, “I knew my son was mortal” (462a, 463b). Sulla confesses to liking people too much and needing to take to heart Plato’s advice about not being overtrustful (463c–d). Neither he nor Plutarch, however, seems to consider this an element in his victory over anger.

  As a final bit of wisdom, Sulla reveals his own vow, “no less sacred and pleasant in the sight of God,” to begin by letting a short interval pass without giving way to anger, then gradually to increase the time between outbursts. By such means and “with the help of God,” he overcame his anger and learned by experience how a placid, gentle, and humane nature is even more agreeable to oneself than to those around one (464d). Admissions of divine help are unusual in this genre and may represent a gentle tweaking of Sulla’s quaint admissions.

  Two essays with almost completely different tones treat ethics within love and marriage. Plutarch addressed Advice to a Bride and Groom with a traditional, conservative approach to the upper-class daughter of Clea, the addressee of On Isis and Osiris. Much of his counsel seems antifeminist today, such as the seemingly total submission of the wife to the husband, the undisputed head of the household (e.g., 139b–c, 140a–b, 140d, 142e, 145d–e). One classicist, however, interprets the essay as a manual for an intelligent and self-controlled bride to obtain the upper hand in a marriage (McNamara 1999). Some aspects of the essay may reflect social changes by the time of the Second Sophistic. Plutarch especially exploits these in his later Dialogue on Love. Like Musonius Rufus, even here he advocates marriage as companionship (κοινονία) and equality (though qualified) (140e–f). A husband should treat a wife with consideration and respect and not try to humiliate her, especially if she is wealthy (138d–e, 139b, 139e–f, 140a). The bride, Eurydice, is to entertain her husband’s guests, engaging in the same type of banter and jokes as he (140a–b, 140d, 142a). Beside character and companionship, Plutarch lists conversational skills as among a wife’s most desirable qualities (141a–b). As in the Dialogue on Love, he argues that erôs is a positive factor in a successful marriage (143d). Plutarch harshly condemns the double standard, not for the moral harm it does the man, as in some philosophers, but for the suffering it causes the wife. Since this essay is more than just a “practical essay,” we find a religious element toward the end: marriage and procreation are holy and sacred affairs, under the protection of the patron gods of matrimony (144b–c, 145a, 144c–d).