in the

Drawing on unusually broad range of sources for this study of Imperial period philosophical thought, Michael Trapp examines the central issues of personal morality, political theory, and social organization: philosophy as the pursuit of self- improvement and happiness; the conceptualization and management of emotion; attitudes and obligations to others; ideas of the self and personhood; constitutional theory and the ruler; the constituents and working of the good community.

Texts and thinkers discussed range from Alexander of Aphrodisias, Aspasius and , via Hierocles, Seneca, Musonius, , and of Oenoanda, to Dio Chrysostom, , Lucian, Maximus of Tyre, Pythagorean pseudepigrapha, and the Tablet of . The distinctive doctrines of the individual philosophical schools are outlined, but also the range of choice that collectively they presented to the potential philosophical ‘convert’, and the contexts in which that choice was encountered.

Finally Trapp turns his attention to the status of philosophy itself as an element of the elite culture of the period, and to the ways in which philosophical values may have posed a threat to other prevalent schemes of value; Trapp argues that the idea of ‘philosophical opposition’, though useful, needs to be substantially modified and extended. To NGD, SWBT and NWBT Philosophy in the Roman Empire , and Society

Michael Trapp Kings College London, UK First published 2007 by Ashgate Publishing

Published 2016 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA

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Copyright © 2007 michael trapp michael trapp has asserted his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data trapp, michael B. Philosophy in the roman empire : ethics, politics and society. - (ashgate series) 1. Philosophy, ancient 2. - intellectual life i. title 180.9'37

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data trapp, michael B. Philosophy in the roman empire : ethics, politics and society / michael trapp. p. cm.-- (ashgate ancient philosophy series) includes bibliographical references (p. ) and indexes. isBn-13: 978-0-7546-1618-4 (hardcover: alk. paper) 1. Philosophy, ancient. i. title.

B505.t73 2007 180.937--dc22 2006022224 isBn 9780754616184 (hbk) isBn 9781138270794 (pbk) Contents

List of Abbreviations vii Preface ix

1 ‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 1 The history and internal geography of philosophia 1 The point and balance of philosophia: Imperial-period perceptions 5 The ‘dominance’ of ethics 10 Authority and division 13 Philosophia in the community 18 Who qualifies? 23

2 Perfection and Progress 28 Perfection: ideal states of the person 29 Lives and progress 42 Conclusion 62

3 The Passions 63 Background 63 Emotion and its control in the Imperial period 71 Conclusion: continuity and change 96

4 Self, Person and Individual 98 The soul and the real person 99 Programmes of self-discovery? 109 The self in therapeutic advice 116 The Self and the Will? 122 Afterword 133

5 Self and Others 134 The Stoics 135 Peripatetics, Platonists, Epicureans and Cynics 144 Special issues 150 Conclusion 165 vi Philosophy in the Roman Empire

6 Politics 1: Constitutions and the Ruler 166 The political background to Imperial-period theorizing 166 Constitutions 170

7 Politics 2: Good Communities 185 Dio on the Black Sea 185 Harmony and order 190 Collective moral character 195 Sanctions: law, punishment and instruction 199 Constituents of the community 200

8 Politics 3: Philosophia in Politics and the Community 211 Entertainment, leisure and responsibility 211 Philosophoi in formal politics 215 Conclusion 225

9 Philosophia and the Mainstream 226 Politics 226 A more general lack of alignment? 233 The paradox of an educational setting 243 An uncertain status? 245 Conclusion 256

Appendix: Bio-bibliographies 258 Bibliography 263 Index of Works and Passages 273 General Index 279 List of Abbreviations

ANRW Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum DPA Dictionnaire des philosophes antiques E-K Posidonius, ed. L. Edelstein and I.G. Kidd IG Inscriptiones Graecae IGSK Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien ILAlg Inscriptions latines de l’Algérie NP Der Neue Pauly IP , ed. M. Isnardi Parente L-S The Hellenistic Philosophers, ed. A.A. Long and D. Sedley OCD3 Oxford Classical Dictionary, edn 3 RAC Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum RE Paulys Realenzyklopädie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft (‘Pauly-Wissowa’) SVF Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, ed. H. von Arnim Us. Epicurea, ed. H. Usener W. Stobaeus, ed. C. Wachsmuth and O. Hense This page intentionally left blank Preface

This is a book about the philosophical discussion of ethics, society and politics, and about the perceived place of philosophy in society, between the closing decades of the first century BCE and the opening decades of the third century CE. It does not, therefore, deal with the whole chronological period of the Roman Empire, down to the deposition of Romulus Augustulus in 476 CE, but rather with those parts of it conventionally marked off as the ‘Early’ and ‘High’ Empires, before the emergence of serious (and, as it turned out, eventually terminal) cracks in the imperial fabric with the Emperors from Macrinus (217–18) onwards. The individuals who will be discussed thus include, among others: the Stoics Seneca, Musonius Rufus, Epictetus, Dio Chrysostom, Hierocles and ; the Platonists Eudorus, Plutarch, Calvenus Taurus, , Alcinous, , Favorinus, Apuleius and Maximus of Tyre, along with the independent Platonist fellow travellers, Judaeus and Galen; the pseudonymous Neopythagoreans ‘’, ‘Diotogenes’, ‘Ecphantus’, ‘Hippodamus’, and ‘Sthenidas’; the Peripatetics Aspasius and Alexander of Aphrodisias; the Cynics Demetrius and ; the Sceptic ; the compilers and handbook-writers Arius, Aulius Gellius and Diogenes Laertius; and the philosophical satirist Lucian. However heterogeneous a list this may seem from some points of view – more on this anon – its chronological outlines and the shared identity of its constituents (or most of them) as citizens or subjects of the Empire, are well marked. Although periodizations based on political events do not by any means always transfer satisfactorily into the domain of cultural and intellectual life, this one has perhaps something to be said for it, particularly in respect of its starting-point. The establishment of the Empire may have been a process achieved in stages rather than in one blinding flash, but it none the less brought about radical changes in the outlook of the elites of both the Latin- and the Greek-speaking areas of the Mediterranean world. It would be natural to expect the effects of those changes to have been felt in philosophical thinking as well as in political culture, and to set out to explore when and where (or at least if) such effects were indeed experienced. But in addition to this, the pattern of events within the history of philosophy, quite apart from events in the world of politics, might in any case lead one to treat the closing decades of the

 Brief bio-bibliographical details are given in the Appendix, on pp. 258–62 below.  The question whether all these individuals legitimately count as philosophers – or rather, what the understanding of philosophy is under which (with only one or two exceptions) they count – is taken up below, in Chapter 1.  Philosophy in the Roman Empire first century BCE as a significant period of transition, and thus a plausible starting- point for a distinct chapter in the longer tale. Perhaps most obviously, these were the years which saw philosophy – philosophia, originally a Greek cultural artefact – consolidating its position as an element in Roman elite culture, following the pioneering efforts of such as , Varro and in the preceding generation, and the still more uneasy and sporadic flirtations of the one or two generations before them. Although the relationship continued to be an intermittently stormy one, and although it is debatable how far it ever became accurate to speak of ‘Roman philosophy’, as opposed to ‘philosophy in Latin’, the point remains that, from the end of the first century BCE onwards, philosophia was accepted as part of the culture of the educated Roman in a way that had not been true a mere fifty years previously. But the annexation of Rome by philosophia is not the only development that marks these years as a period of significant change; at the same time the landscape of philosophy in Greek-speaking culture was shifting too. A hundred and fifty years before, in the first quarter of the second century BCE, the centre of the philosophical universe was still, as it had been for two hundred and fifty years, the city of Athens. Philosophers and philosophical teaching could of course be found in many other cities, from Alexandria and Pergamum to ; but the centres of authority, to which the best and most ambitious students went, and from which the best teachers came, were the great, original Athenian schools. And among these schools, at least in the eyes of modern scholars, it was three above all that made the philosophical running in the vigorous polemic of their mutual disagreements: ’ Garden, the Stoa of Zeno and Chrysippus, and ’s Academy, as re-oriented from dogmatic teaching to scepticism by . By the closing decades of the first century, however, two central features of this picture had changed or were on the way to changing. First, Athens had lost her pre-eminent status, with the probable demise of the Academy, the Peripatos and the Stoa as teaching institutions with regular successions of heads (scholarchs) who ranked ex officio as the most authoritative representatives of their sects – all this, the evidence suggests, having been carried away by the disruptions and depredations of the Mithradatic Wars, or the Roman Civil Wars, or the combination of the two. With this loss of their institutional headquarters, the great sects, though already widely diffused over the Greek-speaking world, began to become still more clearly international in identity, cosmopolitan schools of thought rather than geographically centred organizations, united through time by bonds of spiritual rather than institutional succession; and it is with the closing decades of the century and onwards, given an understandable time-lag, that one might expect the consequences of this shift to have started to work themselves through.

 Cf. Frede 1999, who however argues that in some respects the real starting-point for ‘post- Hellenistic’ developments should be set at the end of the second century BCE or the very start of the first.  On this see Rutherford 1989, 66–76; Inwood 1995.  See Lynch 1972; Glucker 1978, 226–55; Frede 1999, 790.  Inwood 1995. Preface xi

Secondly, in this same period, as the status of the schools collectively was changing, so also the character of one or two of the individual members of the group, and with it the overall balance of the philosophical landscape, underwent a notable modification. Both Plato and came back into the reckoning as the sources of positive doctrine, and authors of full philosophical systems on a par with those of Epicurus and the Stoics, in a manner that had not been true of either of them for between one and two centuries. In the third and second centuries BCE Plato’s heritage, whatever it might have continued to mean to his general philosophical readers, had been interpreted by his institutional heirs as one of sceptical questioning rather than the propagation of positive doctrine. The story of the decline of Aristotle’s institutional heritage between around 250 and the end of the first century BCE may have been overdrawn in standard accounts; but it still appears that before Critolaus at least Peripatetics were not full participants in inter-school debate, and that even after him they were only fitfully so. It was with the first century that the quality of attention paid to both Plato and Aristotle began to change, and that both began to be reconstituted, in new editions of their collected works, in commentaries and in handbooks, as the authors of full, dogmatic systems. The first stirrings of this process may be diverse and untidy, and the whole may not appear to have been completed until the second century CE – the inclusion of and Peripateticism along with and as beneficiaries of the four public chairs endowed in Athens by Marcus Aurelius in 176 is the definitive (if perhaps belated) terminus ante – but it is in the last decades of the Roman Republic and the first of the Empire that the momentum begins to build. So much for the second half of the first century BCE as a plausible starting-point. As regards the setting of an upper chronological limit to the period studied, a date in the first few decades of the third century is at least pragmatically comfortable. It allows the inclusion of all the authors of the major surviving philosophical texts of the Early and High Empires, from Philo Judaeus and Seneca, via Dio, Epictetus and Plutarch, to Alcinous, Albinus, Apuleius and Marcus Aurelius; but it stops short of the huge transformation of the philosophical landscape and agenda ushered in by . This seems both a prudent and an intellectually justifiable place to call a halt. Were the founder of Neoplatonism, (205–268/70), to be included, it would be strained not also to include his successors and systematizers of the fourth and fifth centuries, and that in turn would swell this volume to an unreasonable length. It would admittedly be idle to pretend that the early third century sees the end of any process in the history of philosophy begun in the time of the early Empire (or indeed before), so as to allow some kind of neat thematic closure; but there is at least enough of a pause, and an absence of obvious new developments, or significant texts, to justify breaking off hereabouts.

 For evidence of greater vitality among the Hellenistic Peripatetics than standard accounts envisage, see White in Fortenbaugh and White 2004, 389–409, on Lyco and Hieronymus.  Cf. Frede 1999, 772–8. xii Philosophy in the Roman Empire

Lack of a neat ending notwithstanding, enough has been said already to suggest that the period marked out ought to count as a fascinating one from the point of view of the ‘external’ or ‘institutional’ history of ancient philosophy. Even if it did not see anything like the start of the story of Roman culture’s grappling with philosophia – itself part of the larger story of Rome’s negotiation with Greek culture more generally – it saw the culmination of the process; and it saw the special strains imposed by the fact that this achievement of an unprecedented closeness coincided in the experience of the governing elite with the establishment of a new, untried and controversial form of political authority. At the same time, as Roman intellectuals, and the Roman upper classes in general, were perfecting their strategies for the naturalization of this Greek import, and/or working out the limits beyond which it was not to be assimilated, so on their side Greek intellectuals and the Greek elite at large were being challenged to react both to the Roman imitation and appropriation of one of their culture’s most exalted products, and to the political dominance of the appropriators. But in addition, even as these externally imposed developments were re-focusing the long-running issue of the whole status of philosophia in Hellenic culture and its importance to Hellenic identity, other questions were posed that depended, irrespective of Rome and Roman interest, on developments and perspectives within the Greek world. In particular, there were issues of tradition, thrown up by the lengthening history of philosophia as an institution and set of practices, the growing number of its distinguished practitioners over time, and the persistent, determined disunity of the sectarian landscape. Questions about the legitimacy of philosophical diversity and disagreement, and about the scope and means for variation and development in the foundational doctrines in any given school, may not have been new with the Imperial period, but the simple passage of time could only increase the felt urgency of the need to address them. It is a further, separate, question whether the intellectual quality of the thought of this period is of the same level. Not so long ago, the feeling that high expectations were not in order seemed widespread; with whatever regrets, the years from the late first century BCE to the mid-third CE could only be felt as a fallow interlude, a mere routine continuation of the developments of circa 300 BCE, marking time before the next significant forward step in the march of philosophy, as taken by Plotinus. So, in the first edition of his , published in 1974, A.A. Long opined that ‘in intellectual vitality Hellenistic philosophy reached its zenith before the fall of the Roman Republic’ and that, with the possible exception of the (Pyrrhonist) Sceptic Aenesidemus, the sects founded in the Hellenistic period ‘had no representatives in the Roman empire who were outstanding for original contributions to philosophy’ (210). Not long after, John Dillon, in the first edition of The Middle Platonists, published in 1977, felt constrained to confess that , of both the Hellenistic and the Imperial periods ‘must always be of interest chiefly as a prologue to Plotinus’ (xiv). Verdicts such as these now sound somewhat dated, with their exaggerated preoccupation with innovation (‘paradigm shifts’ at the expense of ‘normal philosophy’), and their implication that real philosophical virtue is only to be found in levels of originality that few thinkers in any age attain. As scholars such as Sorabji, Preface xiii

Frede, Inwood, and Long himself in his more recent guise as a student of Epictetus, have shown and continue to show, closer and more sympathetic examination of texts once dismissed as scholastic or merely expository, reveals many instances of much greater intelligence, independence and intellectual seriousness than was formerly credited. Real problems not solved, or even not formulated, by the great figures of the past came under discussion and found thoughtful answers that demonstrate that this era’s taste for philosophical argument was certainly not exhausted either in inter- school polemic or in ‘mere’ moral exhortation. New ways were found of formulating central issues, or of making the answers to them offered by the various schools vivid and plausible. Proper substantiation of this more favourable assessment must obviously wait for the detail to follow in subsequent chapters; by way of foretaste and example, the reader is referred on to discussion of Hierocles’ account of self- perception, Seneca’s of the three movements involved in the generation of a passion, and Dio Chrysostom’s of the nature of the good community. But it needs also to be protested that both the old unfavourable verdicts, and indeed some of the recent exercises in rehabilitation for that matter, have rested in part on anachronistic notions of the kind of activity that these Imperial-period thinkers understood themselves to be engaged in. It may not be either particularly fair or particularly illuminating to judge practitioners of philosophia by the standards of ‘philosophy’. This too is an issue that will be explored more fully in what follows.10 In a study of this breadth, it is inevitable that some things will not have been taken into consideration as fully as might have been desirable. I am regretfully aware that, among individual thinkers and authors, I have been ungenerous in the attention I have given to Marcus Aurelius; and that I have not had much to say about the issue of Latin as a philosophical language, and the differences in tone and emphasis possibly introduced – or at least potentially made available – by the Latinization of philosophical discourse. And I have left the question of Christianity, and of its efforts to appropriate the territory of classical philosophy, almost entirely to one side. For all these large gaps a mixture of space constraints and personal incompetence is to blame; I can only hope that what I have managed to say on other matters may help to make these ones too more interestingly discussable in future. I have incurred many debts in researching and compiling this book, which it is a pleasure to be able to acknowledge now. It was Bob Sharples who first asked if I would like to write it, too many years ago for complete comfort. Since then, he has answered questions, read and commented on drafts, and written letters of support with unfailing patience, thoroughness and helpfulness. A Major Research Fellowship from the Leverhulme Trust allowed me to research and complete (most of) a first draft in relative calm; a re-scheduled sabbatical term from my Department, with a matching award from the Arts and Humanities Research Council, let me fret over revising and completing it in similar freedom. I’m grateful for various forms of support and advice to Rebecca Flemming, Chris Gill, Roland Mayer, John Moles,

 See 80–2, 110–14 and 185–90 below. 10 See Ch.1 below. xiv Philosophy in the Roman Empire

Malcolm Schofield and Richard Sorabji; and to conference and seminar audiences (principally at the University of London’s Institute of Classical Studies) who have heard and responded to versions of material also appearing here. But I must look further back too, as some of the themes of the book are ones I have been brooding on for more than just the last few years: back to graduate work on Maximus with Donald Russell and Ewen Bowie; and further still, to the Mods Virgil class for which John Bramble set me to investigate the philosophical background to the Augustan settlement, and to make the acquaintance of Posidonius and Antiochus. Chapter 1

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia

The bulk of this book – Chapters 2 to 8 – will be concerned with specific topics and arguments in Imperial-period ethical and political theorizing, and with the question of how this theorizing fitted in – or failed to fit in – with other contemporary habits of thought and schemes of value. But first, the stage needs to be set with a discussion of the understanding of ethics – and of the larger institution of philosophy – within which the theorizing and the argument took place. This first chapter, therefore, will discuss a range of contextual issues: the scope of ‘ethics’, the place of ‘ethics’ in ‘philosophy’, the varieties of ‘philosophy’ between which choices could be made, and something of the place of ‘philosophy’ in culture and society in the first and second centuries CE.

The history and internal geography of philosophia

To get the necessary grip, however, we must begin by backtracking some three to four hundred years: to the fourth century BCE, which is when the kind of philosophy and ethics still current in the Imperial period was brought into existence – or rather, when the kind of philosophia still current was established. For, in ways which should become progressively clearer as this chapter develops, philosophia – what the individuals to be studied in this book took themselves to be practising – is not identical with the things that can be designated by the modern word ‘philosophy’ and its relatives. And this philosophia (like ‘philosophy’) was not some kind of natural phenomenon; it was a human construct that had the specific form it did in the first and second centuries CE because of a past history of ideological decisions and institutional development that began in the fourth century BCE. Things that can arguably be labelled ‘philosophy’ were certainly going on already in Greek-speaking communities in the sixth century, but the construction of the philosophia that this study is concerned with is essentially the work of thinkers operating in Athens between about 400 and about 300 BCE: from the first generation of the pupils of (above all Plato), via the pupils of these pupils (especially Aristotle), to the great systematizers and definers of rival, institutionalized sects at the end of the century (Xenocrates, Zeno, Epicurus). It was these thinkers who decided that the proper name for what they were doing was philosophia, and who set about formalizing its structure and procedures, mapping the intellectual territory over which it claimed rights, and defining its raison d’être. We should remind ourselves, then, first of the point of philosophia, as these 2 Philosophy in the Roman Empire thinkers specified it, then of their idea of the internal structure in which ‘ethics’ took its place along with other objects of study and forms of attention. The point of the exercise, they proclaimed, was nothing more than (and nothing less than) human fulfilment, or happiness (). On the understanding, which they all shared, that there was indeed such a thing as an objectively right and satisfying style of life and state of being for humans, uniquely capable of fulfilling their essential nature and bringing them true happiness, then philosophia was the sole fully effective means of identifying that style of life and state of being.1 Philosophia, in other words, was not an academic study aimed at satisfying the over-developed curiosity of the idle few; it was an indispensable necessity for anyone with a properly informed desire to live well and be happy. It was a science (technê): something that turned essentially on the acquisition, retention, and reflection on a body of knowledge, but also, equally centrally, on the application of that body of knowledge to secure practical effects. Yet at the same time, it was no ordinary science: uniquely, the field in which those practical effects were realized was not the limited catchment area of some mundane skill, but the totality of an individual human existence. As a later practitioner was to sum it up: ‘Who can doubt that, though life is given to us by the immortal , the gift of living well is given by philosophia?’2 Structurally, a widely – though not, as we shall see, universally – endorsed perception held that this philosophia could be sub-divided into, and exhaustively mapped by the combination of, three sub-disciplines: ‘ethics’, naturally; but along with ‘ethics’, ‘logic’ and ‘physics’ as well. This trio could be described as the ‘areas’, ‘parts’ or ‘kinds’ of philosophia, or alternatively as the three ‘’ (‘logical’, ‘physical’, ‘ethical’).3 Each of them, like philosophia itself, corresponded less comfortably and familiarly with the equivalent modern pursuits than might at first be thought, if for no other reason than that the ranges of subject- matter assigned to them were notably wider. Physikê, ‘physics’, embraced metaphysics, (which could be called ‘first physics’), and psychology as well as questions of the make-up and workings of the physical world. Logikê, ‘logic’, dealt with epistemology and linguistics as well as forms and procedures of reasoning and argument. And êthikê, ‘ethics’, the main concern of this book, covered politics and the proper organization of the household community, as well as questions to do with values, character and conduct in the individual. One obvious effect of this tripartite division of philosophia, surely welcomed and intended by its proponents, was to underline the sheer breadth of its concerns. When the specific subject-matters of ‘logic’, ‘physics’ and ‘ethics’ were put together, what came into view was nothing less than the whole field of worthwhile knowledge, indeed the whole field of what counted as knowledge tout court. On

1 A partial exception might have to be made for Epicurus, who was capable of declaring both that philosophia was indispensable, and that its necessity was not absolute, but dependent on contingent human fears. See Long and Sedley 1987, 154–7. 2 Seneca Ep. 90.1. 3 Topoi, merê (Lat. partes), eidê, genê; hê logikê / physikê / êthikê philosophia (Lat. philosophia rationalis / naturalis / moralis). Seneca Ep. 89.9–13 discusses the division.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 3 this analysis, no aspect of life or the world – no aspect of reality – lay beyond the competence of philosophia. It was this geography, and this mission statement, that were inherited by subsequent generations of philosophoi, down to the period with which this study is concerned. Rather than being a fully and finally agreed set of propositions, however, it came with a number of unresolved arguments. In particular, there was one which arose over the internal geography of the calling, and which has a special relevance to perceptions of the nature and standing of ethics. Although they had divided the field neatly into three, the founders of philosophia also experienced, and handed on to their successors, an uncertainty about what the most important objects of knowledge were in the philosophic quest, and what the ideally philosophic life would therefore consist of in practical detail. This uncertainty manifested itself both in arguments between thinkers, and in tensions within individual bodies of thought. One powerful current of thought, associated above all with the example of Socrates, as constructed by his first- generation pupils, held that, because the point of philosophia was its effect on human beings and their lives, it was on the human world – human nature and human interactions – that it should concentrate, to the partial or complete exclusion of other concerns.4 But against this pulled a contrasting thought that there were far grander things in reality than the merely human, which it might be important to know in order to put the human ethical quest into its proper context. The knowledge, already indelibly inscribed in definitions of wisdom, that beyond the realm of human beings there was a whole vast cosmos to be understood, along with the higher forms of intelligence and being that might populate it, could not simply be unthought. And this in turn generated a potentially destabilizing temptation. If the cosmos is grander and more divine than man, can its study be properly subordinated to ground-level ethics? Might it not in fact constitute an alternative, and more fulfilling object of attention? Moreover, there was a third current as well, pulling against both of the other two. If the point of philosophia is individual fulfilment, happiness, then is it an unchallengeable given that its path has to lie through elaborate thought of any kind, whether about the human world, or about its grander cosmic context? Might the practical aim in fact call any kind of commitment to theory into question? The tension between the rival claims of the human and the cosmic as the most compelling focus of attention is evident (notoriously so) in both Plato and Aristotle. In the Republic, Plato begins with a problem in human ethics, the value of just behaviour, which is initially confronted in terms of the structure and workings of the human soul; but the full and final solution offered moves away from the purely human plane into questions about the ultimate structure of reality (‘forms’ and the Good). Correspondingly, in its social and political argument, the Republic first offers a vision of a well-ordered human state, then a competing picture of a community of philosophers attempting as far as possible to distance

4 The foundational statements about Socrates are Plato Phaedo 96a–99d and Xenophon Memorabilia 1.1.11–16, followed by Cicero Tusculan Disputations 5.4.10 and Academics 1.4.15.

4 Philosophy in the Roman Empire themselves from earthly concerns in favour of the contemplation of ultimate reality. On the level of personal choices and preferred lifestyles, Plato thus leaves it somewhat unclear whether the best option is to immerse oneself in higher contemplation for its own sake, to the exclusion of any conscious concern with morals and politics, if one is suitably gifted, or whether one ought always to turn one’s attention back to the human. In terms of the dialogue’s most celebrated image, should philosophoi go back into the Cave once they have seen the outside world and grasped it for what it is or should they not? Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics, for his part, confronts the issue more directly, but again in such a way as to leave room for continuing argument. In Book 1, he discusses fulfilment (eudaimonia) as a matter of a life lived out in normal (virtuous) human interaction. By contrast, in Book 10, he directly contrasts the fulfilment achievable through a life devoted to the intellectual contemplation of higher truth (theôria) with the fulfilment of a life of virtuous action, and declares the former to be superior.5 And yet, this declaration is qualified by the (grudging) admission that a life of contemplation is not possible for a human being in its pure form (and presumably cannot therefore be made a sole aim).6 Other fourth-century thinkers were less sympathetic to the pull of contemplation and more-than-human subject-matter. The extreme case is that of Diogenes, with his impatient, aggressive rejection not simply of investigation of nature and the heavens, but of any kind of elaborate theorizing.7 But the attitude of Epicurus was also cool (from a Platonic-Aristotelian viewpoint, at least). For him, elaborate investigation of and theorizing about nature was only a conditional necessity: essential if the individual thinker had anxieties about divine involvement in natural phenomena, which only atomist truth could dispel, but dispensable for those not burdened with such anxieties in the first place.8 The most elaborate attempt to organize and rank philosophical subject-matter was made by the Stoics (perhaps in some kind of dialogue with the re-founder of Platonism, Xenocrates). Whoever it was who first articulated the tripartite division into physics, logic and ethics,9 it was they who seem to have played most assiduously with ways of expressing it, and of coming to terms with the need for a three- rather than two-place ranking. Diogenes Laertius and Sextus Empiricus both report a trio of images used by the Stoics in order simultaneously to acknowledge each of the three parts as indispensably and inextricably linked to the other two, and to identify one of them as ultimately taking priority: the garden with its walls, soil and fruits; the egg, with its shell, white and yolk; and the living creature, with

5 Nic. Eth. 10.6–8. 6 Nic. Eth. 10.7.1177b26–1128a8. 7 Diog. Laert. 6.103 (cf. e.g. Apuleius Apol. 39, Lucian Lifestyle Auction 11). The idea that ethics was the only proper constituent of philosophia was also maintained by the rogue Stoic Aristo of Chios in the third century (Sen. Ep. 89.13). 8 See note 1 above. 9 Diogenes Laertius attributes it to Zeno (7.39–41), but the Stoic Posidonius (fr. 88E–K) collectively to Xenocrates, the Peripatetics and the Stoics, with the further observation that ‘in effect’ it goes back to Plato.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 5 its flesh, bone and soul.10 These were evidently normally turned so as to award central position to ethics – as the fruits of the garden, the yolk of the egg, and the soul of the living creature – while at the same time insisting that ethics would be incomplete and imperfectly supported without the addition of physical and logical doctrine too. Yet the record also seems to show at least some wavering and debate over the images. Sextus reports that the analogy of the living creature was not early Stoic, but introduced only later (in the first century BCE) by Posidonius, explicitly to improve on the other two. And Diogenes, though reporting ethics as the fruit of the garden, turns the other two analogies round, so as to make not ethics but physics the yolk of the Stoic egg and (more strikingly still) the soul of the living creature. Unless Diogenes is simply muddled (which is possible), this may mean that Stoics too, like Platonists and Peripatetics, felt conflicting pulls on their intellectual enthusiasm.

The point and balance of philosophia: Imperial-period perceptions

Thinkers of the Imperial period were heirs to this whole range of varying opinion, expressed as it was by authorities and in texts that had by their time become classics of the tradition. It is therefore not surprising that differences of opinion should have persisted both about the importance of ethics in relation to the other constituents of philosophia, and about the best way to articulate the range of concerns proper to ethics in itself. On the latter question – of just how the range of concerns proper to ethics itself should be specified – disagreement was arguably more over emphasis than real substance. Imperial-period Peripatetics and some Platonists, pursuing one kind of triadic pattern, tend to stress the importance of household and city as the objects of ethical attention alongside the individual. Thus Alcinous, in his Didaskalikos (Instruction Manual of Platonic Doctrine), divides ethics into ‘the care of morals (êthôn epimeleia), the administration of the household (hê tou oikou prostasia), and the state (polis) and its preservation’;11 Atticus (as quoted by Eusebius) specifies the proper aims of ho êthikos topos as ‘to render each one of us individually virtuous, to righten whole households towards perfection, and to adorn whole peoples with the best constitutions and the most finely tuned of laws’;12 and the summary of Peripatetic ethical teaching quoted by Stobaeus similarly moves on from ideas about the values and aims of the individual to ‘economics’ (the good organization and functioning of the oikos), and from ‘economics’ to political constitutions.13 Stoic definitions of the field, on the other hand, pursue a different

10 Diog. Laert. Lives 7.40; Sextus Against the Professors 7.17–19. 11 Didask. 3.3; Alcinous’ idiosyncratic term for ethics is ‘practical philosophy’, hê praktikê. 12 Atticus fr. 1 des Places (from Eusebius Preparation 11.2.1). 13 Stobaeus Flor. 2.7.13–26, 2.116.19 – 152.25 W. Not all Platonists, however, follow this pattern. Eudorus (also reported by Stobaeus, Flor. 2.7.2, 2.42.7–24 W) sets out a version of the Stoic triad (evaluation – impulse – action); Apuleius omits any explicit mention of the household in his layout of Plato’s ethics in Book 2 of his On Plato (2.1.219–2.28.262).

6 Philosophy in the Roman Empire kind of triadic pattern, centred more explicitly on the character and moral development of the individual. In this, the central topics are (i) the right evaluation of the world and its contents (goods, ills and indifferents); (ii) the right functioning of the soul (impulse, passions, virtue and vice); and (iii) and right action – presented either in the order just given, or with the positions of (i) and (ii) reversed.14 However, the gulf between the two camps in this regard is not as great as might appear. The Stoics include managerial and political issues in their third topic area, many of them under the sub-headings of ‘appropriate action’ (kathêkon/kathêkonta; officia) and ‘lifestyle’ (bios);15 and the concerns of all three Stoic topic areas are duly considered by Platonists as elements of ‘care for morals’.16 On any of these variant patterns of analysis, the êthikos topos includes social and political organization as well as the morality, conduct and values of the individual. Argument over the proper balance between ethical study and the other branches of philosophia, however, remained larger and more open. The conviction most frequently articulated, or simply assumed, among practitioners of the period is certainly still that the heart of philosophia lies in ethics: the point of philosophia is the pursuit of true human felicity, and true human felicity is to be found in the cultivation of virtuous character and action in ordinary life. Thus, Maximus of Tyre defines philosophia as ‘precise knowledge of matters human and divine, the source of virtue and noble thoughts and a harmonious style of life and propitious pursuits’;17 Lucian’s character Parrhesiades, searching in frustration for true philosophoi, describes them as ‘legislators for the best life, who stretch out their hands to help those who are striving towards it and proffer the best and most constructive advice, for all who ... shape and direct their lives in accordance with it’;18 and his Hermotimus, a late-comer to philosophia, progressing but painfully conscious of how far he still has to go, is made to list the gains his teacher promises him as the goal of his training as:

Wisdom and bravery and ultimate beauty (to kalon auto) and justice and universal knowledge based on unshakeable conviction of the nature of each individual thing. Wealth and reputation and pleasure and all other such bodily phenomena he [the philosophos] lets fall away and shrugs off as he rises aloft, as they say Heracles was incinerated on Oeta and became a . ... They too [philosophoi] have all these things stripped from them by philosophia as if by some fire, everything that other people in their error mistakenly believe to be marvellous; they reach the summit and there

14 See for instance Seneca Ep. 89.14; Diog. Laert. Lives 7.85–131; Stobaeus Flor. 2.7.5–12, 2.57.13–116.18 W. The case for putting evaluation first (as articulated by Seneca, loc. cit.) is that it is prior evaluation that determines the right or wrong orientation of impulse; the case for putting impulse first is that impulse precedes judgement in the development of the individual human being. See further Chs 2 and 3 below. 15 Diog. Laert. 7.129–31; Stobaeus Flor. 2.7.11, 2.95.9–23 W and 2.109.10–110.8 W. 16 Alcinous Didask. 27–33; Apuleius On Plato 2.1.219–2.23.255. 17 Maximus Or. 26.1; compare Seneca Ep. 90.3. 18 Lucian Fisherman 30.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 7

enjoy true happiness (eudaimonia), no longer even recalling wealth and reputation and pleasure, and laughing to scorn those who believe they have any real existence.19

It is no surprise, therefore, that when it comes to direct comparisons of ethics with the other sub-disciplines, logic at least regularly loses out. Maximus pours scorn on anyone so blinkered as to believe that philosophia is ‘simply a matter of nouns and verbs, skill with mere words, refutation and wrangling and sophistry, and time spent on that kind of accomplishment’.20 More strikingly, both Seneca and Arrian’s Epictetus21 can be found insisting with some vehemence that ethical issues must take precedence over logical minutiae. In Discourses 3.2.5–18, imagining himself confronted with a student who is keen to move on, Epictetus agrees that working on ‘arguments with equivocal or hypothetical premises, or those that conclude with a question, or involve fallacies, like the ‘Liar”, is a popular choice in modern philosophia, but he is bitingly sceptical of the student’s own readiness for it:

So this is all you lack? Have you worked your way through the other material? Are you impossible to deceive about cash? If you see a pretty girl, can you hold out against the impression? ... [You have shown yourself to be] a worm, a moaner, a ... coward, ... Off with you then, read Archedamus; then if a mouse falls and makes a noise, you’re dead. You have the same kind of death in store for you as – what’s his name? – Crinis. He had a high opinion of himself too, because he’d read Archedamus. Can’t you bring yourself to relinquish these things that don’t concern you, you wretch? These things are appropriate for people who can study them free from upset ... 22

Seneca, in Epistle 45, similarly complains that important questions have in the past been neglected, and are still being neglected in favour of ‘quibbling debates that exercise the intellect to no good purpose’:

We weave knots and with our words first bind up, then resolve ambiguities. Have we really so much spare time? Do we already know how to live, and how to die?23

Here too, the underlying position is that the real point of the exercise is ethical: philosophia is at heart about right living, not sophisticated reasoning. But the situation must not be over-simplified, either as regards logic, or as regards the over-arching question of the real heart of philosophia. As good Stoics, for whom the study of word, utterance, and reason (logos) was as much a study of

19 Lucian Hermotimus 7. 20 Maximus Or. 1.8. 21 ‘Arrian’s Epictetus’ rather than simply ‘Epictetus’, because what we have is Arrian’s write-up of the teaching, not a work from Epictetus’ own hand: see the entries on Epictetus and Arrian in the bio-bibliographical Appendix. 22 Arrian Disc. of Epict. 3.2.8, 3.2.14–16; cf. 2.17.33. 23 Seneca Ep. 45.5; cf. 48.4ff.; 108.12.

8 Philosophy in the Roman Empire reality and its divine ordering as were physics and ethics, Seneca and Epictetus ought not to downgrade logic as far as all that. And in fact, it is easy enough to understand their apparent disparagement as rhetorical rather than substantial, more to do with the perceived needs of their addressees of the moment than with a considered verdict on the standing of logic. Elsewhere, for instance in Epistle 65, Seneca can be found instructing his correspondent Lucilius in some fairly technical and analytical matter; and Epictetus makes it quite clear that some training in logic has been important in his own career and remains important to his pupils.24 The point is rather that both of these Stoics feel that the study of logic can easily become too absorbing and get out of proportion to its proper status in the pursuit of philosophical ends. No doubt the very fact that so much distinguished work had been done on logic in the past by Stoics (like the Archedamus and Crinis mentioned by Epictetus) intensified the sense of risk: it must have seemed that it would be all too easy for the learner in this school above all to get the impression that by immersing himself in the (highly challenging, difficult) subtleties of logic, he was making just the effort a good philosophos should. But part of the explanation for Epictetus’ and Seneca’s words (particularly Epictetus’) seems also to lie in the strong sense these later, ethically minded Stoics had of the need to legislate not for the achievement of ideal moral and intellectual perfection, but for their pupils as they actually were, travellers in mid-course towards virtue, but still a long way short of their goal.25 Addressees such as these had so much work still to do in ensuring that they sometimes acted and reacted correctly that the kind of logical fine-tuning required finally to perfect their moral selves could safely (and should sensibly) be postponed. But this did not mean that the whole discipline of logic was superfluous or dispensable. Over physics, too, careful analysis is needed. It is clear that the feeling that physical (including metaphysical and theological) speculation might constitute a higher object of attention then ethics persisted quite vividly in some quarters. It can be spied most clearly in Alcinous’ Platonist manual, the Didaskalikos. In the very first chapter of this work, philosophia is defined as

a striving (orexis) for wisdom (sophia), or the freeing and turning around of the soul from the body, when we turn towards the intelligible and what truly is; and wisdom is the science (epistêmê) of things divine and human.26

And when Alcinous comes to specify the Platonic concept of the objective of human life, the ‘end for man’ (telos), it is on the formulation ‘likeness to God’ (homoiôsis theôi) that he fixes, with the gloss that this likeness can be attained

24 Arrian Disc. of Epict. 1.7.32, 2.25. 25 On this, see 49–62 below. 26 Alcin. Didask. 1.1, echoing Phaedo 67d and Rep. 7.521c. The formula ‘science of things divine and human’, though apparently of Stoic origin (cf. SVF 2.35 = 26A L–S), was by this time a widely used commonplace (cf. Philo Congr. 79; Apuleius On Plato 2.6.228).

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 9

first of all, if we are endowed with the appropriate nature, then if we benefit from proper habits, upbringing, and moral practice conforming to the law, and, most importantly, if we use reason, and education, and duly transmitted philosophical doctrine, in such a way as to distance ourselves from the majority of human concerns, and always directing ourselves towards intelligible reality.27

In similar vein, the Peripatetic Aspasius, in the introductory remarks to his commentary on Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, feels the need to acknowledge that the objects of theôrêtikê philosophia are higher and nobler, simply of more worth, than those of ethics and politics, even though the subject of present concern, ethics, is ‘more necessary’ for an embodied human being, and must be of ‘primary’ concern to such a being.28 And at a less technical level, it is noteworthy that Maximus of Tyre’s discussion of the competing merits of practical virtue and theoretical contemplation, though in the end it opts for a characteristically tame compromise, can nevertheless allow itself to dilate enthusiastically on the splendours of contemplation:

But as for the sights (theamata) seen by the philosopher, to what can they ever be compared? To a dream, but a truthful dream that travels to every corner of the universe. His body does not move at all, but his soul advances over the whole earth, and from the earth to the heavens: crossing every sea, traversing the whole earth, flying up through every region of the air, accompanying the sun and the moon in their orbits, taking its fixed place in the choir of the other stars, and all but joining Zeus in the administration and disposition of reality. What a truly blessed journey! What a beautiful spectacle! What truthful dreams!29

Seneca too, when he is writing physics not ethics, can change his tune, as he does at the beginning of his Natural Questions:

I hold, my good friend Lucilius, that, just as philosophia is superior to all other disciplines (artes), so within philosophia itself, the part which deals with the gods is similarly superior to that which deals with man. It is loftier and higher-minded; it has allowed itself great freedom – not content with what the eyes can show, it has divined that there is something greater and more beautiful which nature has located beyond the reach of vision. In short, there is the same difference between the two as between god and man: the one teaches what should be done on earth, the other what is done in the heavens; the one dispels our errors and brings light to enable us to settle the uncertainties of life, the other ranges far beyond this murk in which we wallow, wrenches us from the darkness and brings us to the very source of light. ...

27 Alcin. Didask. 28.4. On this, and other competing definitions of the ‘end of life’ (telos) within Platonism, see Dillon 1977, 43–4, 122, 192–3, 299. 28 Aspasius Comm. on Ar. Nic. Eth. 1.2–2.9 Heylbut; cf. Stobaeus’ summary of Peripatetic ethics, Flor. 2.7.24, 2.143.24–144.15 W. 29 Maximus Or. 16.6.

10 Philosophy in the Roman Empire

Have you fought free of your soul’s flaws? You don’t have a hypocrite’s countenance, you don’t speak in accordance with a will not your own, your heart is not twisted, you don’t suffer from a greed that denies to itself whatever it has taken from everybody else, nor an extravagance that shamefully squanders what it has shamefully acquired, nor an ambition that cannot lead you to honours except through dishonour? You have achieved nothing yet: you may have escaped much, but you have not yet escaped from yourself. That virtue which we pursue is glorious not because it is a mark of felicity to be free from ill, but because it unchains the mind and prepares it for knowledge of things celestial, and makes it worthy to enter into association with God.30

But such localized outbursts of partisan enthusiasm should not be taken out of context, or given a greater scope than their authors intended. Just as occasional expressions of concern about over-concentration on logic do not indicate a settled desire to abandon it entirely, so praise for the sublimities of physics is not equivalent to a call for the abandonment of ethics. The fundamental conviction remains that the point of philosophia as a pursuit lies in humans – in you – rather than in the cosmos: philosophia is there to make individual human beings better, to fulfil them, not primarily to increase the sum of knowledge of the universe, or ensure its more even distribution. Where there is room for divergence, between thinkers, or within the same thinker’s thought on different occasions, is over the range of subject-matter that has to be attended to in order to achieve this goal. Should the focus be solely on the individual moral agent and his terrestrial surroundings, or (at least sometimes) on the larger cosmic context? In actual practice, all the major figures of this period clearly do conceive their ethics in the context of strong and important convictions about physical topics – which after all include the issue of the makeup of the individual human soul, as well as its place in the grander system of Nature, and the nature of the divine force or forces that regulate that system. But the inheritance from the fourth century BCE made it possible and tempting to articulate different stances on different occasions about how far, and in what spirit, such matters required separate attention.

The ‘dominance’ of ethics

It is in this light that we should view the suggestion that is sometimes made, that the Imperial period saw a notable narrowing in philosophical output and interests. Some scholars, perhaps over-influenced by the very vociferousness of the likes of Epictetus and Seneca, have concluded that philosophia under the Empire, at least in its Roman heart, tended positively to confine itself to ethics, to the exclusion or

30 Seneca Natural Questions 1, Preface 1–2 and 6–7.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 11 extreme downgrading of other dimensions of philosophical activity. So, for instance, Mark Morford, in his study The Roman Philosophers, envisages a process by which Roman thinkers of the late Republic, above all Cicero, building on the legacy of the ‘middle Stoics’ Panaetius and Posidonius, began to form a distinctively Roman style of philosophia ‘with a strong focus on ethics’. This tendency was reinforced by developments in Seneca’s generation, to produce an ‘obsessive concern ... with philosophy as a practical guide for daily life’, which only comes to an end in the later second century CE, with Marcus Aurelius as its last representative.31 This is a reading of the evidence that must be rejected. The first and second centuries CE do indeed provide us with a striking array of thinkers whose surviving or attested output is predominantly ethical, and firmly slanted towards the practical application of ethical principle: Seneca, Demetrius, Musonius Rufus, Arrian’s Epictetus, Dio Chrysostom, Hierocles, Marcus Aurelius.32 A good many of these were Roman rather than Greek in ethnic origin, or (if Greek) had connections with the centre of Imperial power, and slanted much or all of their work towards a Roman audience. But the idea that there was an extreme concentration on ethics in this period, even among a limited sub-set of philosophical writers, and that there was something peculiarly Roman about this concentration is, though interesting and discussible, a dubious one. And the proposition that philosophia quite generally in this period was unusually concerned with ethics, to the detriment of other modes of philosophical activity, is flatly contradicted by the evidence of both surviving texts, and works known only by fragment, summary or title. Even among the (supposed) ‘Roman ethicists’, concentration on ethics was not complete or exclusive. For all his warnings about the dangers of losing oneself in advanced logical subtleties, Arrian’s Epictetus, as already noted, clearly regards some logical study as essential for his pupils, and recalls his own teacher Musonius feeling the same way. Seneca’s surviving output includes the Natural Questions, as well as the ethical matter of his Dialogues and Epistles, and the Epistles themselves contain elements of (meta)physical doctrine, presented as continuous with and importantly supportive of ethics rather than antithetical to it. And when the field of view is widened to include other well-known figures of the first, second and early third centuries CE, it becomes clearer still that ethics was very far from being either an exclusive concern, or one insulated from other dimensions of philosophia. Plutarch’s surviving philosophical output, though grouped together under the overall title of Moralia (Ethika), includes studies of cosmology, theology, and natural history, in addition to the ethical works proper (for instance, On the Divine Sign of Socrates, On the Face seen in the Moon, On Primal Cold, Are Land or Sea Creatures More Intelligent?, On the Generation of Soul in Plato’s Timaeus). Maximus of Tyre, on his more simplified level, treats of cosmology,

31 Morford 2002, 4, 132, 238 (my italics). 32 Note also the case of Euphrates, well analysed by Frede 1997, who seems to have concentrated on teaching by practical moral example, and to have refrained from publication.

12 Philosophy in the Roman Empire demonology and psychology along with ethics;33 and Apuleius, similarly, expounds -theory in his On the God of Socrates. Galen, like Plutarch, wrote an exposition of the Timaeus, perhaps in commentary form, and unlike Plutarch, Maximus or Apuleius, studies of logic as well.34 Aspects of physics were clearly of major concern throughout the period, as is shown above all by the activities of Platonists and platonizing Neo-Pythagoreans: Aulus Gellius’ mentor Calvenus Taurus and his Athenian near-contemporary Atticus both wrote commentaries on the Timaeus, with Taurus perhaps also composing a treatise On Corporeals and Incorporeals (according to the Suda).35 Moderatus of Gades published ten or eleven books of Lectures on , dealing inter alia with cosmological first principles and doctrines of the soul.36 Nicomachus of Gerasa wrote an Introduction to Arithemtic, a Manual of Harmonics, and a Theology of Arithmetic.37 And wrote On the Good, On the Indestructibility of the Soul, On Numbers, and perhaps also yet another commentary on the Timaeus.38 The early commentators on Aristotle also contributed, with Aspasius perhaps writing on Aristotle’s Physics and Metaphysics, and Alexander of Aphrodisias certainly doing so, along with commentaries also on On the Heavens, On Generation and Corruption, On the Senses, Meteorology, and On the Soul.39 Interest in logic was maintained not only, as mentioned, by Galen, but also perhaps by Atticus, who is recorded as having opinions of Aristotle’s Categories, and again by the commentators on Aristotle: Aspasius, Andronicus, Alexander and Boethus all composed commentaries on the Categories, Aspasius one on the On Interpretation, and Alexander also on the On Interpretation, Prior Analytics, Posterior Analytics, and Topics.40 Mention could also be made of the works of Favorinus on Academic Scepticism,41 and of course of Sextus Empiricus’ Pyrrhonist writings. All of which adds up to a broad panorama of philosophical interest and activity which makes talk of an unusual concentration on ethics seem strained. The most important point, however, is not that specialized physical treatises continued to be produced along with works of ethical focus. It is that – in the spirit of the Stoic images of garden, animal and egg – ethics and physics were in practice treated as quite inextricably intertwined, even in authors who treated the physics as a fixed background, and concentrated their imaginative and exegetic resources on the ethical payoff. When Apuleius or Maximus expound Platonist demonology and cosmology, they do so to bring home lessons about proper human aspirations, and

33 Orations 5, 8–11, 13, 21, 41. 34 Galen On My Own Books 46–7. 35 Taurus: Philoponus Eternity of the World 6.8 (= T22 Gioè) and Suda s.v. ‘Tauros’. Atticus: frr. 12–39 Des Places. 36 Life of Pythag. 48–9; Kahn 2001, 105–10. 37 Kahn 2001, 110–18. 38 Kahn 2001, 118–33; frr. ed. Des Places 1973 (Budé). 39 Sharples 1987, 1182–6. 40 Sharples 1987; Gottschalk 1987, esp. 1151–64. For Atticus, see frr. 40–4 Des Places. 41 Holford-Strevens 1988, 72–8.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 13 the aids made available by God and the Universe to individual humans. Epictetus’ exhortations to his pupils to straighten their view of reality, and to keep control of their moral choices, would be senseless without the constantly implied backing of belief in a providentially organized Stoic cosmos. But more of what this meant will emerge in subsequent chapters, as individual ethical debates are analysed in closer detail.

Authority and division

Whatever range of ideas may have been available about the proper ranking of the constituent parts of philosophia, there can be no mistaking the weight of the whole package taken together, in this period any more than in the later fourth century BCE. As already observed, philosophia and its exponents claimed unique and exclusive access to final truth about humanity, life, reality, the divine and the universe. This is, to put it mildly, a notably different status to that claimed by most of the activities picked out now by the word ‘philosophy’ and its cognates in other modern languages. One gets closer to it by imagining a combination of the kind of authority now commonly accorded to ‘Science’ (with a capital ‘S’), with that now more patchily granted to Religion: knowledge of reality, combined with authoritative instruction in how to think, feel, and live, combined with privileged access to the higher levels of the universal hierarchy. Correspondingly, the philosophos of the period – the guardian and dispenser of this conglomerate – can usefully be envisaged as a blend of the scientist, the theologian, and the priest. It is no accident that when, in the second century CE, Christianity reformulated itself so as to appeal to the educated classes of Greco-Roman society, it was above all as philosophia that it sought to present itself.42 Both strands in this comparison, the religious and the scientific, give a handy angle of approach to another central feature of the philosophy of the period, which has been taken for granted in the discussion up to this point, but not directly commented on: its dividedness into contrasting and competing schools of thought. Pursuit of the truths about the universe, reason and human life enshrined in logic, physics and ethics, and of the fulfilment that engagement with philosophia was promised to confer, was not in this era something to be carried out at the individual’s own whim, in the free play of creative originality. On the contrary, it was expected to defer – on pain of incomprehension and contempt – to an authoritative past history of philosophical endeavour and achievement, which was taken as defining the options for all subsequent participants. Thus, with only minor and peripheral exceptions (to be dealt with shortly), to declare for philosophia was necessarily to declare for a particular kind of philosophia, and to identify that kind not by reference to its subject-matter, but by reference to a great thinker, or group of thinkers, from the past. Of the Imperial-period voices already quoted, Seneca, Arrian’s Epictetus and Lucian’s Hermotimus speak as Stoics, seeking to learn and

42 E.g. Justin First Apology 2.1; Daniélou 1973, 7–73.

14 Philosophy in the Roman Empire progress within the framework of ideas established in the late fourth and third centuries BCE by Zeno, Cleanthes and Chrysippus; Alcinous, Atticus and Maximus as Platonists, experts in (a heavily systematized version of) the thought of Plato. It was equally possible to enrol in the spiritual succession from Epicurus, Aristotle, Diogenes and Crates, of Elis, or , as an Epicurean, Peripatetic, Cynic, Sceptic or Pythagorean. To take up philosophia was therefore to make a double choice, in that the need was not just to opt for a philosophical as opposed to a non-philosophical outlook, but also (standardly if not inevitably) to select one from a range of competing alternatives, each with its own distinctive ideas, loyalties and tradition: in Greek, a hairesis, a position ‘chosen’ in preference to others, thus a school of thought both unified and marked off by its shared outlook; in Latin, a secta, the ‘following’ of one leader or line of thought rather than another.43 Like the definition and sub-division of philosophia, this other form of dividedness was a further part of the inheritance from the foundational days of the fourth century BCE, which bequeathed to Greco-Roman culture a map of the sectarian landscape that was to last for more than eight centuries. The processes by which relatively unstructured disagreement had congealed into competing systems of doctrine, and relatively casual groups of disputants into self-consciously separate schools, need not be examined now, and have in any case not yet been sufficiently problematized and investigated by historians of philosophy. Even if it was by no means inevitable that the fault-lines should have become established exactly as they did, it is not hugely surprising that some such process should have taken place, given the identity for philosophia which was developing over the same period. As the of religious and scientific sectarianism also show, although truth must be one, it is also something far too important to agree over. For present purposes, in this introduction to topics and controversies in Imperial period ethics and politics, it is more relevant to ask how the de facto dividedness of philosophia was experienced and reacted to by contemporaries. As the name hairesis itself underlines, variety creates an invitation to choose, and to take sides between the competing alternatives on offer. It is clear that this was an invitation that called forth more than a purely intellectual response – as would seem only reasonable when what was being chosen was a version of the ‘art of life’, rather than just a set of body of theory. Competing sectarian answers to what philosophia at least presented as the main questions about the world and human life – the nature of god, or the gods, and the relationship between him/them and the physical cosmos; the structure and workings of the human soul; the nature of the human good, and the means to its attainment – certainly bulked large. But other features too could evidently tip the scales of an individual seeker’s choice in one direction rather than the others. Lucian’s Hermotimus voices a satirically

43 Glucker 1978, 166–206; Lucian Hermotimus; Diog. Laert. 1. 17–21; Sextus 1.1–17. It must be stressed that in this period the haireseis were schools of thought independent of any institutional structure and physical plant, even though there were some institutional continuities. On the topic of philosophical allegiance, see also Sedley 1989.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 15 reductive account of how it might be conditioned, explaining that he opted for the Stoics because he

... saw the majority making for their philosophia, and so guessed that it was the best. ... But that was not the only reason. ... I also heard everyone saying that the Epicureans were sweet-tempered and hedonistic, the Peripatetics fond of money and argumentative, the Platonists puffed up and status- hungry; but of the Stoics it was widely asserted that they were manly and omniscient, and that the man who trod this path was the only king, the only rich man, the only sage, and everything rolled up together.44

Doctrinal differences, flippantly paraphrased, underpin the contrasts made here, but the added suggestion of motives of personal taste is not mere satirical froth. The different schools had their own intellectual styles, varying for instance over the relative importance to be attached to theory and practice, or the authority and openness to revision of the work of their founders, and these too could influence choice. Plutarch remarks, in the preface to his lives of Dion and Brutus, that shared membership of a given school of thought can give individuals a perceptible kinship, just as it is evident to the experienced eye that two athletes have worked with the same trainer;45 this could reasonably be applied to the motives for the original choice, as well as to the effects of the teaching. It should not, however, be concluded that this dividedness, and the consequent invitation to choice and sectarian commitment, were regarded in the same way by all contemporary observers. Reactions seem to have varied, from the kind of enthusiastic acceptance just illustrated, to the search for means of circumvention or avoidance. For some (many), the diversity of prima facie appearance was significant and real: being philosophical for them was consequently a matter of selecting and committing to just one school of thought as uniquely (or at least overwhelmingly) right, and rejecting the rest as entirely (or at least essentially) wrong, and of defending the choice in polemical confrontation with the rejects. Lucian’s Hermotimus,46 striking out down just one road of the many their proponents tried to tempt him onto, provides a fictitious example; real-life instances of the attitude can be found in Platonist Plutarch, with his extensive attacks on Stoicism and Epicureanism, and Stoic Epictetus, with his assaults on Epicureanism and Scepticism.47 Others, while staying well within the sectarian frame of reference, showed greater readiness to acknowledge good thinking from outside their own sect: the judicious if limited generosity of Seneca’s references to Epicurus in his Moral Epistles is a case in point.48

44 Lucian Hermot. 16. 45 Plutarch Dion 1. 46 Lucian Hermot. 14–16. 47 E.g. Plutarch’s Progress in Virtue, Stoic Self-contradictions, and A Pleasant Life is Impossible on Epicurean Principle; Arrian Disc. of Epict. 1.5, 1.27.15–21, 2.20, etc. Epicureanism was always the most embattled of the haireseis (and well aware of it). 48 Seneca: e.g. Epp. 12.11 and 16.7. Seneca had something of a taste for maintaining that Stoicism and Epicureanism were close on many issues, differing only verbally (Leisure 3

16 Philosophy in the Roman Empire

But there were also those who came to more strongly irenic conclusions, impressed by a deeper unity which they wished to see beneath the surface diversity. Already in the first century BCE , speaking from within (his version of) the Academy, had made a determined effort to argue for the essential unity of Platonist, Peripatetic and Stoic thought.49 A similar spirit, though worked out in a much sketchier and more general manner, animates Maximus of Tyre in the second century CE, who argues in his Oration 1 that an essential unity of purpose underlies the surface variations in appearance and teaching-style between different philosophoi, in Oration 4 that a single tradition of theological wisdom unites the poetry of the past and the philosophia of more recent times, and in Orations 29–33 that the only sectarian choice it is essential to make is that to reject the pernicious hedonism of Epicurus.50 Yet others went to the opposite extreme, concluding not that everybody must be right and, despite first appearances, somehow in agreement, but that nobody could be right. This reaction could take the ‘common-sense’ form urged on Lucian’s Hermotimus by his interlocutor Lycinus, who exhorts him to abandon partisan allegiance to Stoicism, or any other philosophical sect, and instead to ‘live the life that is common to all ... free from bizarre and inflated ambitions’.51 Or it could take the intellectually tougher option of Scepticism, remaining within the formal structure of haireseis,52 but in such a way as to reject the dogmatism characteristic of the others, in favour of a principled (and sometimes aggressive) ‘suspension of judgement’ (epochê). This rejection could be shaped either into the Pyrrhonist conclusion that nothing is reliably proven, not even that nothing is reliably proven, or into the Academic Sceptical credo that it is certain that nothing is certain.53 In either case, the Sceptic saw it as his task not simply to seek the inner calm of suspended judgement on his own account, but to show by argued criticism of the claims and doctrines of the ‘dogmatic’ schools that others should do so too. One further possible response, – the conscious and avowed mixing and matching of doctrines from a range of different schools – is harder to trace in practice than might have been expected. The long history of argument between the sects had indeed led to mutual influence and ‘borrowing’ – Stoicism in particular setting agendas and promulgating technical terms that were readily taken up by others – and for this reason eclecticism was once regarded as a defining

and 7, Constancy 16.3, Happy Life 13.1, Clemency 1.3.2) – though in Ben. 4.2 he admits that the gap cannot be closed over the issue of the summum bonum; cf. Griffin 1976, ch. 10. 49 See Dillon 1977, 52–106; Barnes 1989. 50 Maximus of Tyre Orr. 1, 4 and 29–33 (cf. also 27.5), with Trapp 1997a, xxii–xxx. 51 Lucian Hermot. 84; compare the ‘revelatory’ advice given by the prophet Tiresias to in Menippus 21. 52 The question whether Scepticism could claim to be a hairesis, given its lack of positive doctrines, was debated, but answered positively, at least by Sceptics themselves: Diog. Laert. 1.20, Sextus Pyrrhonism 1.16–17. 53 On the variant forms of Scepticism, see (e.g.) Long 1974, 75–106, Sharples 1996, 9–10 and 27–34.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 17 characteristic of Imperial-period philosophia in general.54 But this diagnosis has more recently, and rightly, come to seem inappropriate, for the simple reason that the philosophoi of this period themselves do not appear to have seen their approach to doctrine in this light. Many examples show that, for them, a Platonist crediting Plato with what seems to us Stoic or Peripatetic vocabulary, or even a distinctively Stoic doctrinal concern, was still expounding his Master’s thought, and showing that he could match that of his rivals point for point, rather than importing alien matter or creating a philosophical hybrid.55 The formal record – Diogenes Laertius supported by the Suda – in fact comes up with just one name, that of the Augustan- period Potamo of Alexandria, who apparently attempted (in a way perhaps reminiscent of Antiochus of Ascalon) to mix together Platonist, Peripatetic and Stoic materials in an overtly eclectic mode.56 But he seems to have had no pupils and founded no school. Something like an eclectic response, however, can (with some qualification) be seen in the case of one further, highly individual figure of the Imperial period, Galen of Pergamum. Though a doctor, and taking Hippocrates as the great intellectual authority to whom he owed his primary loyalty, Galen was keen to claim philosophical competence too (indeed, to claim an identity between the two disciplines, when properly developed).57 Describing his own education, he records how he scrupulously followed advice from his father ‘not to declare myself hastily the adherent of any one sect, but to take a long time in order to learn about them and judge them’:

These ... were the precepts I took from my father; and I keep them to this day. I do not declare allegiance to any sect (aph’ haireseôs tinos emauton anagoreusas), rather subjecting them all to a thorough examination (tên exetasin echôn).58

This careful cultivation of critical independence, and the habit of searching scrutiny – scepticism without the sceptical conclusion, almost – looks on the face of it to be opening the way to the construction of an eclectic philosophia, and this expectation is to some degree fulfilled in Galen’s oeuvre as a whole.59 Refusing sectarian commitment, and regarding philosophoi in general as thinkers who get some things right and some things wrong, Galen endorses this or that product of

54 E.g. MacMullen 1966, 48 (all the more telling because a summary by a historian of what is meant to be a consensus view): ‘ ... organized systems and derivations of thought were dissolved; all was open to choice, and hodge-podge handbooks encouraged everyone to be his own metaphysician’; the accompanying footnote (p. 305) refers to Düring 1951, Dudley 1937, Arnold 1958, and Oltramare 1926. 55 See Dillon 1977, xiv–xv, 265; Dillon 1993, xxx–xl; Dillon and Long 1988, 1–33. 56 Potamo: Diog. Laert. 1.21; Suda s.v. 57 That the Best Doctor is also a Philosophos. On Galen, see in the first instance Singer 1997, vii–lii; Nutton 2004, 216–47. 58 Affections and Errors of the Soul 1.8.42–3. 59 Sufficiently for Dillon in his brief treatment to style his doctrine ‘truly eclectic’ (1977: 339).

18 Philosophy in the Roman Empire the different schools as it matches up to his own sense of the truth of the matter. However, what emerges falls short of being a complete philosophical system, for Galen is not interested in system building per se; and there is a general sense that Plato and (second-century, ‘Middle’) Platonism are more frequently embraced and endorsed than the competition.60 Galen’s firm refusal of partisan commitment, and his strong assertion that one can be a philosophos in the most respectable of senses without such commitment, remain remarkable, and an important indication of the range of stances open to an intellectual of his era; but he is not playing the same game as a Potamo.

Philosophia in the community

So far, this chapter has focused on the kind of authority claimed by philosophia in virtue of its aims and subject-matter, and on some of the issues raised by the scope and weight of the claim. But it is all very well to claim transcendent, life-changing authority. It has also to be exercised (and if need be bolstered and defended) from a particular concrete vantage-point, or set of vantage-points, in society. We therefore need to ask how philosophoi saw themselves and how they were seen by others as fitting in, in this social sense. Where did they choose to speak from? The most readily identifiable position appropriated by philosophoi of the Imperial period was that of educators of the young: not the very young, still also undergoing training in the basic skills of literacy and literate expression, but those in their mid-to-late teens, closer to the threshold of their adult careers. Philosophoi presented themselves as the providers of an especially advanced stage in the sequence that went to make up a full educational career: the logical and natural next step for the intelligently ambitious, after absorption of the basic instruction in literacy and literature offered by grammatistês and grammatikos, to be entered on either along with or after study with a rhêtôr.61 Though claiming to offer something crucially more than any of these other educational professionals, they were to be found inhabiting and operating in the same kind of space – the schoolroom – and with something of the same pedagogical techniques and educational aids. So it is that when Plutarch devotes a whole essay, On Listening, to the proper approach to attending lectures, it is principally philosophical lectures ‘in the classroom’ (en tais scholais) that he has in mind. And so it is that, at the beginning of the essay, he presents philosophia as the next onwards step to youngsters about to put their years of more basic schooling behind them:

You have often heard that following God and obeying reason are one and the same thing. In the same way, I ask you to believe that in persons of good sense the passage from childhood to manhood is not a casting off of control,

60 Cf. Singer 1997, xxiv–xxvii; Nutton 2004, 222–3. 61 On the structure of education under the Empire, see Marrou 1956, 242–91, with the more sophisticated gloss provided by Morgan 1998; on the place of philosophia within this structure, see also Clarke 1971, 55–99.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 19

but a recasting of the controlling agent, since instead of some hired person or slave purchased with money people now take as the divine guide of their life reason (logos), whose followers alone deserve to be considered free. ... And so you, who have been brought up for a long time in casual contact ... ought to feel like an old friend when you come to philosophia, which alone can array young men in the manly and truly perfect adornment that comes from reason.62

A further story, that neatly brings together the claims of philosophia to being a life- directing and life-changing commitment, with its gravitation towards a scholastic setting, is that of the ‘conversion’ of the young Polemo, transformed from young wastrel to sober thinker and seeker after virtue by the accident of his tipsy intrusion into a lecture by Xenocrates on self-control (sôphrosynê). Though set in the fourth century BCE, it was an episode that evidently remained a firm favourite with Imperial-period writers.63 As Plutarch’s words underline, this educational stance was one that fitted well with the heavy emphasis laid in philosophia on ethics and ideals of self- development, for which the transitional period between adolescence and entry into full citizenship was so clearly of special importance. And it helpfully assimilated philosophia to a familiar and valued class of professionals, with a widely accepted claim to civic usefulness. That the assimilation was not one sided, simply a piece of hopeful self-importance on the part of philosophoi, is shown by the fact that – for a period at least – it was formally acknowledged in Imperial legislation. Under a measure apparently first enacted by , and extended by , philosophoi along with doctors, teachers of grammar and teachers of (‘’) qualified for ateleia, that is for exemption from the compulsory contributions of money or service on which city economies and administrations under the Empire depended to a large extent. In the words of a confirmation of this enactment, issued under , but referring back to the reigns of Aurelius and his predecessor :

My most divine father, immediately upon accession to the throne, by decree confirmed all existing privileges and exemptions on all these professions alike, specifying that philosophoi, teachers of rhetoric, teachers of literature and doctors should be exempt from serving as gymnasiarchs, market-commissioners, priests, providers of billets, providers of corn, and providers of oil, and are not to act as judges or

62 Plutarch On Listening to Lectures 1–2 (Mor. 37d–38a); for the equation of philosophia with growing up, see also e.g. Seneca Ep. 4.2. 63 E.g. Horace Sat. 2.3.253–7, Val. Max. 6.9.ext.1, Arrian Disc. of Epict. 3.1.4 and 4.11.30 (with scholion), Plutarch Friend and Flatterer 32 (Mor. 71e), Lucian Double Indictment 13–19, Diog. Laert. 4.16. On the topic of ‘conversion’ to philosophia, see also Nock 1933, 164–86.

20 Philosophy in the Roman Empire

ambassadors or be enrolled for military service against their will, nor be compelled to perform any other kind of provincial or other service.64

In this generous dispensation, philosophoi are counted together with doctors and teachers of the core curriculum of Greek paideia as communally valuable individuals, whose residence is to be encouraged, and who deserve to have their professional contribution to the public good acknowledged by a corresponding lightening of their other civic obligations. This may not quite have been the free meals for life so famously suggested by Plato’s Socrates (Apology 37a), but it was a move in the same direction. At the same time, however, this was a kind of status-claim that had its dangers and limitations. For all the advantages of assuming the mantle of educators of the young, philosophoi also felt they had good grounds for insisting that they and what they had to offer should not be assimilated too thoroughly, and thought of as just one among several forms of useful instruction. For one thing, as already observed, their subject-matter could be said to be of a quite different order of magnitude and depth from those treated by other educators of the young: the art of right living, rather than the art of getting your syllables right, or of constructing a speech to the city Council correctly.65 Secondly, philosophia and philosophical learning differed from the educational norm in their chronological extent, the nature of their demands over time. Philosophia was for life, not just for school and adolescence,66 and it was as much a practical as a theoretical subject. Hard and valuable lessons might indeed be learned in the classroom, but not to continue both the study and the practical effort at self-formation on into adult life would be a betrayal of philosophia’s true nature and potential. What philosophoi thus felt entitled to was the respect and standing due to educators, but educators of a very special kind, with a relevance to and an authority over the adult as well as the adolescent, stemming from the special nature of their subject-matter. It is clear that this claim to longer chronological reach was mirrored in actual practice. Although you would characteristically find that the majority of the gathering in a philosophos’ classroom was of late school age, there would often be a sprinkling also of older individuals, looking in for just one session. Thus, though Arrian’s Epictetus clearly phrases most of his teaching and exhortation specifically for the young, he also addresses himself from time to time to maturer individuals, with growing families and positions of adult responsibility.67 How exactly he organized the daily timetable of his teaching in Nicopolis cannot be reconstructed, but it seems as if there was some kind of division between classes for full-time students only, and open sessions to which others were welcomed as well.68

64 Digest 27.1.6.8. On the whole issue of ateleia, see Bowersock 1969, 33, with the review by M. Griffin in JRS 61 (1971) 279–80; Millar 1977, 491–506. 65 Maximus Or. 1.7. 66 E.g. Seneca Ep. 76.1–4. 67 E.g. Disc. of Epict. 1.11; cf. Long 2002, 43–4; Brunt 1977. 68 Long 2002, 44–5; Brunt 1977; Clarke 1971, 85–92.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 21

From the point of view of the individual consumer, formal instruction experienced in adolescence could find its continuation in other ways too, in addition to such occasional return visits to the classroom. The very rich could keep a philosophos (a ‘philosophical chaplain’) as part of their household, for consultation, instruction and performance as required: a position exemplified by the cases of the Younger Cato’s Athenodorus Cordylion, Cicero’s Diodotus, or Crassus’ Alexander, and exploited for its satirical mileage in Lucian’s On Salaried Posts.69 Others could reckon to encounter both philosophical professionals and philosophically minded lay-people in the normal course of social life, so as to be able to air problems and share insights both in informal conversation and in the somewhat more structured exchanges of the symposion.70 Relationships of instruction and mutual support could be set up perfectly well outside the context of formal classes, to be sustained both face-to-face and by letter: as for instance not only in the relationship with Lucilius depicted (with whatever degree of fictionalization) in Seneca’s Moral Epistles, but also in such papyrus letters as P.Oxy. 3069, between two otherwise unknown would-be philosophoi in provincial Egypt.71 Philosophical material could be heard in public oratorical performance, whether from professional teachers, or other fellow travellers.72 Both public and private libraries existed to sustain as extensive and detailed a reading of philosophical literature as the individual might desire.73 Here and there more unusual forms of contact and diffusion could be encountered, most notably the huge inscription – a kind of half-way stage between private reading-text and public performance – set up by the second-century Epicurean Diogenes in his home-town of Oenoanda. The model of the philosophos as a practitioner not confined to contexts of formal instruction, but ranging freely over all kinds of private and social situation, is developed in a number of Imperial-period texts. Plutarch, in his treatise on Old Men in Politics, takes a common line in articulating it with reference to the great precedent of Socrates:

69 Plutarch Cato the Younger 16; Cicero Brutus 309; Plutarch Crassus 3. 70 See for example Pliny Ep. 1.10 (esp. 9–10) on Euphrates (noting what this tells us of Pliny’s own desire to be known as a regular consulter of philosophoi). Plutarch’s Table Talk (Quaestiones convivales) is evidence of the continuing habit of talking philosophy over wine at the symposion: the very first question raised (1.1.612e–615c) is ‘Whether philosophia is a fitting topic for conversation at a drinking party’. 71 Text, translation and brief commentary in Trapp 2003, no. 35. 72 Favorinus, Dio, Maximus, and Apuleius are the most frequently cited examples of philosophizing orators, but there were clearly many more about: professional instructors would on occasion leave the classroom for a more public arena; Strabo 14.5.15 mentions two travelling philosophical lecturers in Plutiades and Diogenes of Tarsus; and there are epigraphically attested cases like those of Ofellius Laetus (Bowersock 1982) and Julianus Eutecnius (Jones 1978b). 73 Accessibility of philosophical books in Memphis in the third century CE is attested by the library catalogue on P.Petersburg 13; and private circulation of philosophical books by letters like P.Mil.Vog 11 (Trapp 2003, no. 56); cf. also Keenan 1977.

22 Philosophy in the Roman Empire

Most people of course think that philosophoi are people who sit in a teacher’s chair and converse (dialegesthai), and deliver lectures over books; but they fail to notice the continuous practice of ... philosophia, seen consistently, from day to day, in both words and deeds. Socrates at any rate was a philosophos, even if he did not set out benches or seat himself in an armchair or observe a fixed hour for conversing or promenading with his pupils, but joked with them, when the occasion came up, and drank with them, and served in the army and lounged in the agora with some of them, and right to the end continued to philosophize, even when in prison and drinking the poison. He was the first to show that life admits philosophia at all times and in all parts, and without qualification in all experiences and deeds.74

In the same vein, Maximus of Tyre in his Oration 1 argues that one should expect to find philosophoi holding forth in many different situations, styles and physical guises, rather than confined to a single physical stereotype and a narrowly circumscribed range of settings:

Philosophical teaching has no single occasion set aside as its own. It is as inseparable from life as light is from the eye. ... Whoever refuses to allow the philosophos to seize every opportunity to speak seems to me to be doing the same as someone who selects a single station from the whole chancy, fluctuating, unstable business of war, and confines there a versatile soldier who knows how to fight both as hoplite and as archer, and can shoot as effectively on horseback as he can from a chariot.75

And an idealized portrayal of a contemporary philosophos putting this roving, universalist brief into practice can be seen in Lucian’s . All of this means that philosophoi were in fact angling for a very exalted, but also a very peculiar status, with no exact parallels in the society of their day. They wished to be acknowledged and valued as educators, but with a far wider scope than that exercised by those normally so described. They wished to be acknowledged as leaders of their communities, but without occupying any formal position of civic authority. More than that, they wished also to be accepted as leaders of humanity as a whole, without further reference to political and social structures and divisions.76 Philosophia and philosophoi were felt to deserve a hegemonic role, but it was one that characteristically had to be expressed in metaphor, or in evocations of (a construction of) the distant past, rather than in terms drawn from contemporary ranks and roles. Philosophoi should be seen as ‘legislators’, but in the mould of figures like Minos, Solon and Lycurgus, whose laws established ethical norms and practices rather than mere rules of procedure,

74 Plutarch Old Men 796de. Plutarch here bases himself on a reading of the Socrates of the Platonic dialogues, with specific allusion to Symposium, Crito and Phaedo. 75 Maximus Or. 1.3. 76 E.g. Seneca Ep. 89.13, generis humani paedagogus.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 23 and who formed the moral characters of whole communities.77 They should be seen as teachers, but after the pattern of the great poet-sages of antiquity, from Orpheus to and Hesiod, who taught mankind in general in whatever way was required to make sense to their audience of the moment.78 Their relationship to their fellow men could be compared to that of a guide to a band of travellers, a general to an army, a steersman to a ship’s company, a herdsman to a flock, a chorus-leader to a choir, or – with special emphasis – that of a doctor to his patients.79 This last metaphor had particular resonance and significance as an expression of the kind of importance the philosophoi claimed, and is found again and again in the writing of the Imperial period.80 If philosophia rightly claimed special insight into the right way to be and live, and special effectiveness in the teaching of that right way, then philosophoi must be to the character (soul) and moral life what doctors are to the body and the undisputed good of health.

Who qualifies?

Something of the differences in scope and social sitedness between the philosophia of the Imperial period and contemporary understandings of ‘philosophy’ ought by now to be clear. It is in the light of these differences that the range of thinkers and texts brought under discussion in the remainder of this book, and in part already invoked in this chapter, should be understood. For many of them, it is true, no special comment would seem to be called for. Figures like Musonius, Epictetus, Hierocles, Alcinous, Atticus, Taurus, Aspasius and Alexander seem to belong quite uncontroversially in any history of the philosophy of the period; from their surviving work, and from what we know of their lives and careers, they are readily characterizable as professionals in the discipline. In the absence of biographical information, Hierocles, Alcinous, Atticus and Aspasius have to be assessed entirely on the tone and quality of their surviving work, but for Musonius, Epictetus, Taurus and Alexander, there is contextual information as well to clarify their status. Musonius (G. Musonius Rufus, c.25– c.100 CE) was a Roman eques of Etruscan ancestry; his three periods of exile seem to have had as much to do with political as with philosophical considerations, but he is remembered by Epictetus as a dedicated philosophical teacher, and counted Dio and Euphrates of Tyre among his pupils too.81 Though he began as a slave in the Imperial household, Epictetus (c.55–c.135 CE) ended up running a philosophical school at Nikopolis in Epirus, and it is this school that forms the

77 Philosophoi as lawmakers: Lucian Fisherman 30; Maximus Orr. 29.7, 37.2–3; cf. Seneca Ep. 90.1–6 and Philo Judaeus’ Moses. 78 Maximus Orr. 4 and 26; cf. Seneca Ep. 89.13, 90.1–6. 79 Maximus Orr. 1.2–3, 1.7–8, 3.7, 15.2, 20.6, 29.7, 30.2–3, 33.3. 80 E.g. Maximus Orr. 1.2, 3.6, 4.2–3, 4.6, 22.7, 28.1; Plutarch Late Vengeance 550a; Platonic Questions 999e; Dio Or. 27.7; Arrian Disc. of Epict. 3.21.20, 3.23.20; Aurelius Med. 3.13.1; Lucian Demonax 7; etc. 81 Arrian Disc. of Epict 1.7.32, 3.23.29; cf. Lutz 1947.

24 Philosophy in the Roman Empire setting for the discourses recorded by Arrian.82 Calvenus Taurus (c.95–c.170 CE) is shown in Aulus Gellius’ reminiscences in his Attic Nights teaching in Athens, with a daily timetable that included both the study of philosophical texts and discussion sessions.83 Alexander of Aphrodisias (T. Aurelius Alexandros, fl. 198– 209 CE) has always been known from his own words as the holder of an Imperial chair in Peripatetic philosophy, and the recent discovery of the inscribed base of a statue he dedicated to his father seems to prove that this was the Athenian chair, not a local appointment in his home town.84 Other figures, though not professionals in quite the same sense, in that they did not teach formal courses as a regular activity, and had other important sides to their social and intellectual identities, are also normally counted in thanks to the volume and quality of their philosophical writing: Seneca (L. Annaeus Seneca, c.1 BCE– 65 CE), whose principal career was as a tutor and then a counsellor to the Emperor ;85 Plutarch (L. (?) Mestrius Ploutarchos, c.50–125 CE), who was active as a magistrate and council-member in his home town of Chaeronea and as a priest of Apollo at Delphi, and worked also as a historian; Diogenes of Oenoanda (d. c.120/130 CE), who speaks of his Epicurean inscription as a substitute for other kinds of didactic activity, rather than a continuation of it.86 There would seem to be no particular problem, either, about occasional references to non-philosophical writers who nevertheless transmit information about philosophical doctrine, or perceptions of the nature and standing of philosophy: the satirist Lucian (c.120– c.190),87 or the man of letters Aulus Gellius (c.126–c.200 CE).88 But there are others again, who have already been appealed to, and who will be regularly cited in what follows, who are not such familiar presences in histories of philosophy, and whose inclusion therefore calls for explanation: perhaps above all, the trio of Dio Chrysostom, Apuleius, and Maximus of Tyre.89 Practically nothing is known of the life and circumstances of Maximus, apart from the claim that he lectured in Rome ‘in the time of ’ (i.e. 180–192 CE).90 Dio and Apuleius have more distinct identities. Cocceianus Dio (his full Roman name is unknown) was born into the local aristocracy of the town of in in around 45 or 50 CE; after early literary success at the Imperial court and study of Stoic philosophy under Musonius Rufus, he was exiled under the Emperor , but restored with the accession of (a family friend) in 96/7 CE; his subsequent career saw him lecturing in cities around the eastern half of the

82 Brunt 1977; Dobbin 1998, xi–xiv; Long 2002, 10–12 and 34–5. 83 Dillon 1977, 237–9; Holford-Strevens 1988, 66–71. 84 DPA I, 125–7 with Chaniotis 2004, 388–9 and Sharples 2005c; cf. 252–4. 85 Griffin 1976, 29–171. 86 Diog. Oen. fr. 2–3, with Smith 1993, 437–40. 87 Jones 1986, 6–23. 88 Holford-Strevens 1988, 9–19. 89 Similar worries might also be raised over the pseudo-Pythagorean treatises (‘Archytas’ and the rest), and the Tablet of Cebes, which are likewise in the business of bringing simplified versions of philosophical doctrine to a general readership. Their inclusion can, broadly speaking, be defended in the same way as that of Dio, Apuleius and Maximus. 90 Trapp 1997a, xi–xii; DPA 4, 324–7.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 25

Empire, but also active in local politics at home in Prusa until his death some time after 100 CE.91 Apuleius (again, his full Roman name is unknown) was born to a prosperous family, again eminent in local politics, in Madauros in Africa Proconsularis in the CE. He studied literature, rhetoric and philosophy in Carthage and Athens, and it seems to have been in Carthage that he based himself for most of his subsequent professional career, up to his death some time after 170.92 It is a widespread perception that these three belong at least as firmly, if not more so, in the history of literature and oratorical entertainment: with Lucian and Gellius, rather than with Plutarch and Seneca (still less, Alcinous, Alexander, and the rest). Their preferred media of expression (with individual variations in each case) were the set speech, delivered to substantial audiences in public (or, at any rate, non-scholastic) venues, and the written-up text put into circulation for a wider readership. They may have made use of philosophical subject-matter, but they did so in a relatively exploitative, superficial way, without deep understanding, or any commitment to the further development or problematization of the thoughts they were so smoothly paraphrasing. They give a general impression of being at least as much concerned with the elegance and stylistic propriety with which they phrase what they have to say, as with the truth or the usefulness of its content. And philosophy was not their only subject: Dio dealt also in local politics (at a mundane rather than a high ideological level) and travel-romance; Apuleius made entertainment out of literary and antiquarian material, and is in any case best known for his scandalous novel, the Metamorphoses (though in the case of Maximus, it is only philosophical themes that are attested). From this point of view, the traditional opinion that such figures as this were at best ‘semi- philosophers’ (Halbphilosophen) seems entirely justified. In response to expressions of scepticism along these lines, it could be pointed out that, even if they are well-founded, Dio, Apuleius and Maximus would still be useful sources of information about the public profile of philosophy in their world, and might from time to time preserve records of ideas and arguments that happen not to have survived in more mainstream philosophical writing. But in fact this is too weak and passive a retort. What should be replied instead is that the urge to exclude figures of this kind springs from an inadequate grasp of the distinction between modern ‘philosophy’ and ancient philosophia, and a consequent, anachronistic, recourse to criteria of inclusion that depend on modern standards of what is ‘philosophically’ interesting, rather than on the contemporary sense of the nature of the activity. Dio, Apuleius and Maximus were, indeed, not profound thinkers. They were clearly much concerned with making the right stylistic impression, and winning praise and admiration for their mastery of literary and cultural tradition. Two of them at least – Dio and Maximus – have a tendency to play arch games with the name philosophos, treating it as something they wish to manoeuvre their audiences into applying to them, rather than forthrightly seizing it themselves (though

91 Jones 1978a; Russell 1992, 3–7. 92 Harrison 2000, 1–14; cf. Harrison et al. 2001, 1–10.

26 Philosophy in the Roman Empire

Apuleius shows no such scruples).93 But even this coquettish show of modesty, from a certain point of view, assimilates them to the philosophical mainstream of the period rather than distancing them from it. This is a time in which philosophoi, as a class, tended to acknowledge themselves as minor figures relative to the giants of the past, and as expositors rather than originative sources in their own right.94 But, more importantly, Dio, Apuleius and Maximus were all explicitly in the business of bringing the truths of philosophia before an audience, and urging their life-changing force. For all the sly games, they speak as insiders, experts in the doctrines, history and personalities of philosophia, rather than as mere fellow travellers. One of the main pillars of Apuleius’ defence in his Apology, against a charge of the criminal use of magic, was that he was a philosophus misunderstood by his ignorant accusers.95 Dio, in expounding the doctrine of the cosmic city in his Borysthenitic Oration, describes it as belonging to ‘our school’ (hêmeteroi), i.e. the Stoics.96 Maximus’ pose of expertise is as unmistakable, though more difficult to illustrate in a single quotation or reference.97 Reservations about the hard-headedness, and sense of real challenge, with which these individuals purveyed philosophical doctrine – there might well be felt to be a distinction in this respect between Dio on the one hand and Apuleius and Maximus on the other – are beside the point, just like concerns about their profundity, originality, and fastidiousness over style. For the educated society of their time, what came from individuals of this stamp was as much philosophia as what could be read in Seneca’s letters or Alcinous’ Didaskalikos, or heard in the school of Epictetus. Apuleius was perhaps honoured in his own lifetime with a statue declaring him philosophus platonicus, and is certainly referred to thus by Augustine only a century and a half after his death.98 In the case of Dio, there was evidently argument over the best label for him, but also widespread agreement that philosophia had to feature: for in the early third century, he was ‘a philosophos with a reputation for sophistic eloquence’, for in the late fifth, a who converted to philosophy in mid-life.99 Maximus is proclaimed platônikos philosophos by the title to the principal manuscript of his work, and by the company he is allowed to keep there (Alcinous, Albinus) – arrangements which certainly reflect perceptions of the sixth century, and can very plausibly be taken as

93 E.g. Maximus Or. 1; Dio Orr. 13, 32 and 36; Apuleius Apol. 1–6. 94 This is most obviously true of works composed in commentary form, which necessarily present themselves as in some degree subordinate: a characteristic example would be Aspasius’ words at the beginning of his commentary on Aristotle’s Ethics (p. 2.6–13 Heylbut, Comm. in Arist. Gr. 19.1). But note also such expressions of subordination and middle-man status as Maximus Orr. 1, 11.1–2 and 27.5, and the general pose of interpreters rather than originators adopted by Epictetus and Seneca. 95 Apuleius Apology 1–6, 10–13, etc. 96 Dio Or. 36.29. 97 Trapp 1997b, 1946–54. 98 ILAlg 1, 2115 (the name of the dedicatee is missing, though he is described as a native of Madaura); Augustine City of God 8.12, 8.14, 8.24, 9.3, 10.27. 99 Philostratus Lives of the Sophists 1.487–8 with 479 and 484; Synesius Dio 1. On the history of arguments over the proper classification for Dio, see Brancacci 1985.

‘Ethics’, ‘Philosophy’ and Philosophia 27 indicative of earlier reactions too.100 If our wish is to study the Imperial period phenomenon whole, these individuals demand to be included; something substantial would be missed if they were not.101

So much by way of preliminaries. The next chapter will turn to the substance of Imperial-period ethical and political theorizing, starting with competing ideas about the nature of the fulfilment (eudaimonia) at which philosophia and (according to philosophoi) life itself were aimed, and about the processes by which the individual human subject could advance towards it. This will be followed in Chapter 3 by discussion of thinking about the emotions and their control, which played such a central role not only in formulating conceptions of the aims of life and moral progress, but also in articulating disagreement between the rival haireseis. Both the emotions and their management, and discussion of paths of moral progress more generally, raise the question of what conceptions of selfhood and the person were in play in Imperial-period ethical theorizing and debate; this will be the topic of Chapter 4. Chapters 2 to 4 will therefore revolve around the central importance to ancient ethics of character and character formation. With Chapters 5 to 8, the focus will shift from ideas about the inner life and character- structure of the individual, to thinking about the relations of the individual with others and the outside world. Chapter 5 will discuss leading themes and points of controversy in the area of inter-personal ethics and social relations; Chapters 6 to 8 will move on to relationships and structures at the level of substantial communities, i.e. to politics. Chapter 6 will deal with constitutional theory and the issue of monarchy; Chapter 7 with visions of the best society, and issues relating to specific groups within it; and Chapter 8 with the question of where and how philosophia was – according to the philosophoi – supposed to fit into the ideal community. Throughout Chapters 2 to 8, the aim will be to survey the range of thinking on the topics under consideration that was kept in circulation by philosophoi, and in the process to identify both what was new in the period, and where differences of opinion between the rival haireseis offered the most striking and clearly defined alternatives. They will thus all consider philosophical thinking ‘from within’. It will be left to the final chapter to raise the issue of how this system as a whole, with all its inner variants and controversies, should be related to other currents of thought and sentiment in the Imperial period: in particular, the question whether, and in what ways, philosophia can or should be seen as a non-aligned, oppositional force in the culture and thinking of the elite classes under the Empire.

100 Trapp 1997a, lv–lxi. 101 There is more extensive discussion of Apuleius and Maximus from this point of view in Trapp (forthcoming), and of Maximus in Trapp 1997a, xvi–xlvii, and Trapp 1997b.

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