Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum Studies and Texts in Antiquity and Christianity

Herausgeber/Editors Christoph Markschies (Berlin) · Martin Wallraff (Basel) Christian Wildberg (Princeton) Beirat/Advisory Board Peter Brown (Princeton) · Susanna Elm (Berkeley) Johannes Hahn (Münster) · Emanuela Prinzivalli (Rom) Jörg Rüpke (Erfurt) 76

Religious Dimensions of the Self in the Second Century CE

Edited by Jörg Rüpke and Greg Woolf

Mohr Siebeck Jörg Rüpke, born 1962; Director of the International Research group “Religious Individualiza- tion in Historical Perspective” at the Max Weber Centre of the University of Erfurt. Greg Woolf, born 1961; Chair of Ancient History at the University of St Andrews.

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© 2013 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproduc- tions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed by Laupp & Göbel in Nehren on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Nädele in Nehren. Printed in Germany. Table of Contents

Jörg Rüpke and Greg Woolf Introduction ...... VII

Rethinking Philosophical Tradition

Eran Almagor Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought ...... 3

Jula Wildberger Delimiting a Self by God in ...... 23

Religious Concepts of the Self

Jörg Rüpke Two cities and one self: Transformations of Jerusalem and reflexive individuality in the Shepherd of Hermas ...... 49

Harry O. Maier Dressing for Church: Tailoring the Christian Self through Clement of Alexandria’s Clothing Ideals ...... 66

Christoph Markschies Das „Selbst“ in der valentinianischen Gnosis ...... 90

Anders Klostergaard Petersen Justin Martyr in Search of the Self ...... 104

Anna Van den Kerchove Self-affirmation and Self-negation in the Hermetic revelation treatises . . 130 VI Table of Contents

Richard Gordon Individuality, Selfhood and Power in the Second Century: The Mystagogue as a Mediator of Religious Options ...... 146

Second Sophistic Perspectives

Wolfgang Spickermann Philosophical Standards and Individual Life Style: ’s Peregrinus/Proteus – Charlatan and Hero ...... 175

Dorothee Elm von der Osten Habitus Corporis: Age Topoi in Lucian’s Alexander or the False Prophet and The Apology of Apuleius ...... 192

Practices of the Self

Zsuzsanna Várhelyi Self-Care and Health-Care: Selfhood and Religion in the Roman Imperial Elite ...... 221

Elena Muñiz Grijalvo Votive Offerings and the Self in Roman ...... 243

Peter Gemeinhardt Wege und Umwege zum Selbst: Bildung und Religion im frühen Christentum ...... 259

General Index ...... 279 Index of Sources ...... 291 Introduction

Jörg Rüpke and Greg Woolf

Did new senses of the self emerge in the High Roman Empire, and if so what were the religious corollaries? Le souci de soi, the third volume of Michel Foucault’s Histoire de la Sexualité appeared in 1984 and was enthusiastically welcomed as offering a seductive and subtle account of the emergence of a new sense of the individual between the Hellenistic period and Late Antiquity. Peter Brown and Paul Veyne are just the most distinguished of those who took up these ideas. The approach they pioneered has stimulated conferences, university courses, doctorates and monograph series, and provided the basis for major works of scholarship, notably Brown’s own Body and Society and the essays gathered in the first volume of the Histoire de la Vie Privée over which Veyne presided. , medical texts and the literature of the so-called Second Sophistic have all been recruited to this debate. A concern with the growing place of the individual has been seen as central to much Hellenistic philosophy, a phenomenon discussed for example in Martha Nussbaum’s Therapies of Desire. A more critical response to these ideas, spanning philosophy and litera- ture, is provided by Christopher Gill’s The Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought. The same concerns are central to the critical works of Averil Cameron, Tamsyn Barton, Catharine Edwards, Eric Gunderson and Jim Porter among others. Art historians like Barbara Borg and Jaś Elsner have found ways of connecting discussions of Selbstdarstellung to this different approach to the self. Both philologists and art historians have incorporated new sensibilities into their accounts of the intellectual culture of the second Sophistic. Religious studies have not always been central to this debate. But at times this new sense of the self has been represented as a prefigurement of Christian sensi- bilities, especially in so far as a special concern with the body and with personal experience is concerned. Some of the arguments deployed also evoke earlier debates about the uniqueness of the so-called oriental cults. The focus on the dif- ferentiation of the individual can also be connected to A. D. Nock’s arguments in Conversion and Jonathan Z. Smith’s in Drudgery Divine in their very different essays in mapping religious change over Hellenistic and Roman antiquity. This volume sets out to examine these issues, by bringing together key pro- tagonists in these debates within the separate spheres of philosophical, literary VIII Jörg Rüpke / Greg Woolf and religious studies. The contributions are based on papers presented at a workshop held in the Augustinerkloster of Erfurt in June 2010. It was conducted within the framework of the research programme Religious Individualization in Historical Perspective, a multi-disciplinary and multi-period investigation based at the Max Weber Center of the University of Erfurt, and funded by the German Research Foundation (DFG). The volume is opened by chapters dealing with the rethinking of philosophical tradition in what might be called “the long second century”, the period which lies at the heart of our inquiry. Eran Almagor deals with some treatises of the philosopher Plutarch and with his interpretations of . He points out how knowing oneself is for Plutarch also a matter of grasping a divine element within the world. However, this access is of a type, which at the same time implies a sense of an infinite hiatus between the self and the divine. Humans need to develop a sense of humility as a characteristic dimension of their care for their selves. Jula Wildberger analyses a religious concept of the self presented in the works of Epictetus. Her inquiry reveals a complex notion of the self, one which is at the same time intimately related to, and also clearly separated from, god. Each time the self prays in adversity to God to lead it to whatever place he has assigned for it, it performs a volitional gesture, prohairetic of God’s won volition: what was previously outside, and ‘God’s business’, thereby becomes the self’s own. By making God a part of itself, the self at the same time acknowledges that it is a part of God and belongs to him. Self and God have become blended, not despite their separation, but because of the existence of a separate self. A second group of contributions deal with religious concepts of the self. Jörg Rüpke’s chapter explores textual strategies of shaping the self within the new religious framework offered to Roman Jews by the ekklesia of god and his mighty angel Christ. The multi-layered text known as the “Shepherd of Hermas” offers many metaphors and thought experiments for the individual hearer and reader to reflect on his or her own conduct and priorities, and to position his or her self accordingly. Central to the text are metaphors of the city. Rüpke claims that the prominence of these metaphors reflects the attraction exercised by the urban and social fabric of the city of Rome, against the backdrop of the destruction of Jerusalem in the age of the Bar Kochba insurrection. Harry O. Maier’s analysis of the work of Clement of Alexandria focuses on another medium of shaping the self, namely dress. Again, it is the urban context of the metropolis of Alexandria, which shapes the precepts but in a negative way, remaining tacit about the civic context. Making use of a long tradition of philosophical thinking about the relationship between one’s dress and one’s self, Clement develops ideals for a specifically religious dress code. As Maier points out, the gender bias of these dress codes, recommending male ideals for women gaining in strength, characterize Greco-Roman civic as Christian religious norms. Introduction IX

The interaction of philosophical thought and the concern for a contemporary, specifically religious self is also at the centre of Christoph Markschies’ contri- bution. For his analysis of texts from the pupils of the Roman teacher Ptolemaeus (who presented themselves as pupils of the orthodox teacher Valentinus, but were classified as Gnostic heretics by Irenaeus of Lyon), Markschies concen- trates on the terms physis and psyche. It is part of their Platonic inheritance to conceptualize a tripartite human nature, in which the soul binds body and spirit together. Conversely, the idea that the demiourgos has a soul belonging to the realm of the shadowy corporeal world, falls short of philosophical standards of rigour. The effort to make this comprehensible to interested religious individuals seems to take precedence over a correct interpretation of Plato’s Timaios. Anna van den Kerchove explores the religious dimensions of the self that can be disentangled from the Hermetic corpus. Here too the influence of Platonic mod- els is clear, but discovery of the self is presented as part of a broader theological enquiry and education. Anders Klostergaard Petersen inquires whether or not Justin Martyr can plausibly be seen as a precursor of modern individualism. The chapter demonstrates the difference between the historical Justin and the narrative character presented in the Dialogue. In the Dialogue we find a deliber- ate thematization of the differences between the world-views of philosophy and that of religion proper. His search is a good example of what might be called a reflective individuality, and he offers himself as a model for others. Richard Gordon addresses in the final chapter of this section religious specialists, mys- tagogues or “magicians” in the terminology of Max Weber. Such religious roles offered channels within which a religious individuality might be developed in relation to the power-structure of Graeco-Roman society. The religious services these specialists offered were accommodated within these structures, but they also permitted (and perhaps demanded) constant innovations. Those innova- tions did not challenge social structures, but they did offer space for individua- tion and so maintained the viability of the religious system as a whole. Religious thinking in the second century cannot be dealt with without pay- ing attention to the larger intellectual context known as the “Second Sophistic”. Wolfgang Spickermann analyses an essay written by one of the key figures of the period, Lucian of Samosata. He argues that the image of the demi-god Hera- cles, as developed in Lucian’s writings, provided a model for the figure of Per- egrinus, who himself served as a literary model for Lucian. Individual life-styles did not preclude attempts to live according to philosophical models. Dorothee Elm von der Osten also deals with Lucian, and broadens the analysis by taking Apuleius of Madauros into account as well. Her analysis takes up a topic already developed by Harry Maier in relation to Clement, that of outward appearance. But in this chapter the stress is laid not upon dress, but on the bodily habitus, on the manner in which these figures presented their age, gender, education and social status. Lucian seeks to explore the discrepancies between the persona X Jörg Rüpke / Greg Woolf that the pseudoprophet Alexander wishes to present, and the man he ‘really’ is. Apuleius’ tactic works in the opposite direction, as he seeks to erase the persona his accusers attributed to him, and to present himself as the philosopher he really is. Richard Gordon’s chapter approaches Alexander from a different direc- tion, as a well attested case study of the widespread phenomenon through which religious specialists he terms mystagogues offered individuals the resources with which they might fashion new religious selves, and so escape from the identities and status ascribed to them in the hierarchical social order of the early empire. In a final set of contributions, very specific religious practices of caring for or expressing the self are placed under scrutiny. Zsuszanna Várhelyi starts from a group of philosophical texts that describe religious practices, in particular prayer, offered by, or asked of, friends visiting sick persons. The discrepancy of the manner in which authors like Seneca distanced themselves from popular religious customs, is striking. These practices seem to have been not merely widespread, but even deeply ingrained among members of the upper class. Vá r - helyi advances the hypothesis that ritual public expressions of concern for the emperor’s health might lie at the root of this shift. Elena Muñiz Grivaljo begins from a succinct discussion of the degree of “individuality” we might expect to find in votive offerings. Individual ritual action cannot be correctly understood without reference to the framework of meaning provided by the general religious system to which it refers. As a conse- quence of this principle, she analyses changes in the votive offerings dedicated to the goddess Athena and links those changes to other more general ones within that framework of reference. A new position of votive offerings and, therefore, of individual initiative within the religious system might help to explain changes in the number of votive offerings dedicated to Athena in Roman Athens. Finally, Peter Gemeinhardt inquires into the role of education in the deliberate shap- ing of Christian selves. Justin Martyr, Tertullian, the Pseudoclementines, and Origen form the basis of his analysis. The personal preferences and experiences of these authors differed widely. Notably they attributed very different roles to classical philosophical learning, which was variously presented as having the potential to help form one’s Christian orientation, or else to threaten it offering an alternative construction of the self. All the texts he considers support the thesis that religion and education were already strongly entangled in the second century CE. At the end of this introduction, we would like to thank many people and in- stitutions. The Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft financed the conferences, the Augustinerkloster provided once more a productive and amiable venue for our discussions. Elisabeth Begemann helped us in taking care of the manuscript, Em- erson Stevens corrected the English of several contributions, and Diana Püschel arranged the files for the typesetting. But most of all we would like to thank the Introduction XI contributors, for their cooperation, their willingness to respond to questions and criticism and for their patience.

Jörg Rüpke Greg Woolf University of Erfurt University of St. Andrews

Rethinking Philosophical Tradition

Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought

Eran Almagor

Γνῶϑι σαυτόν, (know thyself), the famous saying inscribed on the pronaos of the temple of Apollo in Delphi (Paus. 10.24.1),1 was not unknown to Plutarch (c. 45–120 AD). The essayist, biographer and philosopher was initiated into the mysteries of Apollo, functioned as the senior of the two priests of the Greek god at the of Delphi,2 and fulfilled the role of an epimeletes of the Amphictyon- ic Council in that city, not far from his own Boeotian home town of Chaeronea.3 This aphorism is mentioned by Plutarch several times,4 often as a principle that should guide life and conduct. One of the treatises in the Lamprias Catalogue – a list that dates from the third to the fourth century AD and which supposedly of- fers the titles of all of Plutarch’s known works – is given as “On the saying ‘Know thyself’” (number 177).5 It certainly provided Plutarch with a starting point for his ethical pursuits, as much as it is said to have done for other famous Greek philosophers, such as (cf. frag. 101 DK) and (cf. Plat. Apol. 21bc). There is a growing recognition among scholars that Plutarch’s moralism, as it is displayed in his biographies, demands this sort of self-awareness. In many cases, the divergences in the themes and issues between the Parallel Lives and the formal comparisons at the end of most pairs of biographies, as well as the utter contradictions in substance and interpretation between the two parts, force the audience to reflect, investigate, draw its own conclusions on the heroes, and reassess the relation between different vices and virtues, or between vice and

1 It was considered a divine command and presumably falsely attributed to the first Greek philosopher, Thales (Diog. L. 1.13). I would like to thank the kind and generous selves of Prof. Jörg Rüpke and Prof. Greg Woolf for inviting me to take part in the workshop in Erfurt and to be part of this volume. I would like to thank the participants for their useful comments on this paper. 2 Plut. An seni 792 f. (Καὶ μὴν οἶσϑά με τῷ Πυϑίῳ λειτουργοῦντα πολλὰς Πυϑιάδας). Cf. Quaest. conviv. 7.2.700 e. 3 For Plutarch’s connection with the city of Delphi and its sanctuary, see Swain 1991; Stad- ter 2004. On the manner in which the religious background of Plutarch played an important part in his philosophy see Brenk 1987, 330–6. 4 Demost. 3.2; Quom. adolesc. poet. 36 a, 49 b; Quom. adulat. 49 b, 65 f; De capiend. ex inim. 89 a; Cons. ad Apoll. 116cd; Septem 164 b, De E 385 d, 392 a, 394 c; De Pyth. oracul. 408 e; De garrul. 511 b; Adv. Colot. 1118 c. Cf. Courcelle 1974, 43–7. 5 See Dillon 1977, 188, on its presumed content and form. 4 Eran Almagor political success.6 The ethical judgement involved in these passages could be seen as ‘exploratory’ rather than ‘expository’ moralism, leading the reader to find the right way of conduct for him‑ or herself. 7 But what exactly is the self that needs to be known? How can the ‘I’ that chooses the right way of life be defined in his or her course of self-improvement?8 Does it make sense to talk about the ‘self’ in Plutarch’s thought? When address- ing these questions we should bear in mind several obstacles barring us from attaining a clear notion. Firstly, the problem is not a cross-cultural given. The identity of the individual person is a highly difficult philosophical issue in itself, one that has evolved through the ages, assuming different shapes and notions along its history. An- cient philosophers, even ancient sceptics, generally placed the self more securely in the objective real external world than did their later, Cartesian counterparts.9 The ancients certainly did not formulate this problem in modern terms of ‘sub- jectivity’10 and did not provide solutions similar to the possibilities we may be familiar with. There is always a risk in ‘translating’ the questions and answers of a different culture, removed in both time and in space, to that of our own. Some nuances may get lost in this ‘translation’ or otherwise be falsely attributed. Secondly, Plutarch’s thought on the matter may not represent either a com- prehensive or a coherent whole. Our knowledge of his philosophy is deduced from the extant treatises, written in dialogue format and addressing specific metaphysical or ethical issues that do not touch directly on the matter at hand.11 Because the issue is viewed in various passages from different angles – meta- physical, psychological or ethical – the ‘self’ in Plutarch’s writing may either succumb to different definitions depending on context, or it may even be possible that there are several notions of the ‘self’ in his thought, depending on the field of discussion and the specific components chosen for emphasis. Some of the works that might have shed direct light on the problem are regrettably lost.12 This loss

6 Cf. Duff 1999, 390: “This book has emphasized throughout ways in which Plutarch’s texts resist simplistic univocal presentation of the past, but are complex, exploratory, and challenging: they invite the reader to challenge and to ponder”. Cf. 37–42, 68–71. 7 To use the distinction made by Pelling 1995, 207. 8 I here agree with Sorabji 2006, 32, that the reflexive Greek heautos, implied indeed in the famous aphorism quoted, is one of the ancient terms that correspond closely to the modern notion of ‘self’. 9 See Burnyeat 1982, 8, 13–4, 18–20, 25, 36–7. Admittedly, the break between things “outside” and an inner (subjective) world of images and appearances may have begun with Augustine (Contra Academicos III 26). Cf. Matthews 1977. Yet, Augustine does not give the subjective states of the ‘self’ a privileged status, unlike Descartes. See Burnyeat 1982, 28–9, 33. 10 Cf. McDowell 1986; Fine 2003, 209–14. 11 On the caution which must be employed with regard to Plutarch’s dialogues and the ideas put into the mouths of his figures see Dillon 1977, 190–1. Cf. 198: “his true views on ethical questions are frequently obscured in the more rhetorical treatises”. 12 Like the treatise “on the soul” (Lamprias catalogue number 209) of which several fragments are preserved, the work “That the soul is imperishable” (number 226), “What is the telos accord- Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 5 impairs our understanding of how Plutarch conceived of the ‘I’. Moreover, in the extant dialogues, there are usually several interlocutors, and it is assumed that their conversation represented real-life debates of his day. Yet, in this fictional depiction of an argument, it is difficult to know to which view Plutarch himself subscribed, even though one dramatic figure may represent the author himself.13 This difficulty, which ironically highlights the problem of the true self, leads us to the third obstacle, which is more philosophical in nature. It is not clear whether the ‘I’ in itself is a given entity. In classical antiquity, there was a strand of thought that held that the ‘self’ was an ideal being, a sought after and achieved reality, an end result rather than a given starting point.14 As such, it would also be inferred that the ‘I’ is constantly constructed rather than being the fixed object for introspection. In this chapter, it is proposed to consider yet another facet of Plutarch’s thought, in order to present the problem and concept of the ‘self’ or at least grasp its complexity. One of the key catch-phrases in treatments of Plutarch’s philoso- phy is his dualistic frame of mind.15 Dualism is the belief that reality essentially consists of two entities, two kinds of things, independent of each other and ir- reducible one to another.16 What precisely it is that is dual in Plutarch’s thought is not the same in all these modern accounts, nor is his dualism described in identical terms, with the inevitable consequence that there is no lucid overarch- ing picture. Yet, even a cursory reading of Plutarch would reveal that he is trying to advance some sort of dyadic framework in his works. This is an aspect of his thought that cannot be ignored, but it is usually not taken into consideration as such in discussions of the self in Plutarch. It might seem ironic to address the question of the unique in-dividual ‘self’ by focusing on duality and divisibility of the person. However, I shall argue that it is precisely through this division – with its implications of strife, movement, or variety – that the ‘I’ might be revealed. It might be suggested that the concept of ‘self’ logically necessitates the existence of two conflicting principles. For instance, the persistence of the self through changes involves something that is really modified and something that remains ing to Plato?” (number 221) or even the treatise “On the saying ‘Know Thyself’” mentioned above (number 177). 13 As in De E Apud Delphos, in which Plutarch as a young man offers his own account of the mysterious letter E inscribed on the Delphic temple of Apollo, or in the Quaestiones Convivales, banqueting with friends. 14 See Long 2001. 15 Cf. Dillon, 1977, 202–8; Froidefond 1987, 215–7; Bianchi 1987; Alt 1993; Chlup 2000; Bos 2001. 16 Here should be cited the definition of Fontaine 1986, xiv: “two utterly opposed concep- tions, systems, principles, groups of people, or even worlds, without any intermediate terms between them. They cannot be reduced to each other; in some cases they are not even depend- ent on each other. The opposites are considered to be of different quality – so much so that one of them is always seen as distinctly inferior and hence must be neglected, repudiated, or even destroyed”. 6 Eran Almagor the same; when taken to its metaphysical full implications, this theory may in- troduce an ontological dualism.17 Similarly, when the question of the ‘self’ has relevance to introspection, self-awareness or even self-knowledge in the sense mentioned earlier, it is the ‘me’ as subject of cognitive perception and at the same time its object18 that implies some sort of epistemological duality; and with the clear assumption of choice between virtue and vice, some ethical duality between good and evil as ends or as sources of action is assumed. So that methodologi- cally, choosing this road might be a reasonable option. This chapter does not propose to provide an exhaustive account of Plutarch’s dualism, nor to supply an unambiguous clear cut answer to the problem(s) of the ‘self’ in his writings, but only to raise questions and to promote discussion concerning the way duality should be linked with his portrayal and concept of the individual person. In what follows, some points of contact would be sug- gested between the study of the ‘self’ presumed by the discussions of the dualistic frame of mind and the philosophical world view imagined by the theories of the ‘I’ ascribed to Plutarch. There may in fact be a number of ‘dualisms’ in Plutarch’s thinking, as there may be several ‘selves’. Ways to examine the ethical and reli- gious dimensions of Plutarch’s definition of the self seen to correspond with this dyadic structure of the self would emerge from these points. Besides tackling these issues, it is interesting to reflect on the fact that studies of these philosophi- cal concepts and Plutarch’s notion of the individual tend at times to focus either on Plutarch’s Lives or on his Moralia, the great parts of his output that were sadly divided and should be discussed together.19 When it comes to Plutarch’s dualism, research literature provides us with a variety of instances where this thread is visible. They are to be differentiated by philosophical question, and theoretical influences or affinities. Sometimes this notion is explicitly mentioned by Plutarch and at times it is assigned to his world view by the modern interpreter.

17 Even in monist philosophies, that presuppose only one kind of being in the world, there is a variation between the thing that subsists and another that is altering. For instance, in Stoic materialism there is some difference of degrees of natural attachment (οἰκείωσις) felt by ‘me’ to my mind (διάνοια) and to my body and my external circumstances, including other people, so that the mind is closer to ‘me’ (yet, not excluding a close sense of attachment of ‘me’ to my body). See Hierocles ap. Stob. 4.671.7–16. Cf. Marcus Aurelius’ deprecation of his own bodily self (2.2), with Sorabji 2008, 22. In early modern idealism, there is an implied difference between the ‘ideas’ or perceptions and the mind. Cf. Berkeley 1710, § 2–3. 18 This is, broadly speaking, apparently what Richard Sorabji referred to in his account of the ‘self’ as an embodied individual owner who sees himself or herself as ‘me’ and ‘me again’. See Sorabji 2006, 4, 22–32, 47–50. 19 See Geiger 2008. Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 7

1 Two Ontological Principles

Plutarch’s dualism shows a mutually exclusive dichotomy between the immate- rial and the corporeal worlds. First there is a transcendent standard, static and immaterial, the final cause and object of aspirations.20 In the sublunary realm, everything is corporeally predicated, the celestial entities as well as the minds and souls of human beings. The latter are the only sublunary creatures that have a potentiality for intellect, which when realized shows a likeness to this transcend- ent God. That there are two ontological principles in the world is the basis for the attack on the Stoic (i.e., Chrysippus’) position (in De virtute morali) that the soul is unitary, and that there is no such thing as a distinct irrational part. The first step on the way to understand the individual human being is therefore to grasp that the soul itself is divided. and Plato are cited as persons aware of this fact that the soul is twofold rather than unitary (441 e): ὅτι δ’ αὐτῆς ἔστι τῆς ψυχῆς ἐν ἑαυτῇ σύνϑετόν τι καὶ διφυὲς καὶ ἀνόμοιον, ὥσπερ ἑτέρου σώματος τοῦ ἀλόγου πρὸς τὸν λόγον ἀνάγκῃ τινὶ καὶ φύσει συμμιγέντος καὶ συναρμο- σϑέντος, εἰκὸς μέν ἐστι μηδὲ Πυϑαγόραν ἀγνοῆσαι … But that there is some element of composition, some twofold nature and dissimilarity of the very soul within itself, since the irrational, as though it were another substance, is mingled and joined with reason by some compulsion of Nature – this, it is likely, was not unknown even to Pythagoras …21 Plato developed this theory, Plutarch continues, to maintain that the soul of the universe is neither simple, uniform, nor uncompounded, but a being mixed, as it were, and made up of that which is always the same and of that which is otherwise. In yet other places it is divided into motions and circles, one contrary to the other, whence are derived the beginnings and generation of differences in things. The structure of the human soul is similar to that of the world soul, of which it is a copy or a part (441 f): ἥ τ’ ἀνϑρώπου ψυχὴ … οὐχ ἁπλῆ τίς ἐστιν οὐδ’ ὁμοιοπαϑής, ἀλλ’ ἕτερον μὲν ἔχει τὸ νοερὸν καὶ λογιστικόν, ᾧ κρατεῖν τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου κατὰ φύσιν καὶ ἄρχειν προσῆκόν ἐστιν, ἕτερον δὲ τὸ παϑητικὸν καὶ ἄλογον καὶ πολυπλανὲς καὶ ἄτακτον ἐξεταστοῦ δεόμενον The soul of man … is not simple nor subject to similar emotions, but has as one part the intelligent and rational, whose natural duty it is to govern and rule the individual, and as another part the passionate and irrational, the variable and disorderly, which has need of a director.

20 Cf. De Is. 372ef; Amat. 770 b. Cf. Arist. Metaph. Λ 7.1072b3, Phys. A 9.192a16. 21 All translation from the Loeb Classical Library Series. 8 Eran Almagor

2 Soul, Mind and Body

Radek Chlup22 has drawn attention to the fact that in the treatise De animae pro- creatione in Timaeo (On the Generation of the soul in the Timaeus) 1014 e, Plutarch differentiates between the ‘soul in itself’, which is an uncreated and eternal cause of activity and whose actions are irrational,23 and Intellect, which is the source of order and form. The starting point for the creation of the universe is the primary opposition of Soul (ψυχή) and Intellect (νοῦς). Each of these is autonomous, that is they are independent of one other and function differently: the soul is the cause and principle of motion, a movement which is entirely irregular and disorderly, while Intellect is the cause of order, which is unable to move of itself (1015 e, 1024 a). A ‘creation’ of the soul, according to Plutarch, would mean that the Demi- urge combines the primal soul and Intellect together, generating a whole, which has both order and energy. It is the World Soul, which is ‘generated’ in the respect of being the result at a given moment in time of two eternal constituents. Chlup goes on to describe how this theory is in fact irreconcilable with many Platonic passages, and is even incoherently set together with Plutarch’s own theory and other pairs of contrast which are associated with the Soul-Intellect opposition, as if Plutarch were trying to accommodate Academic speculations with his own dualistic scheme. Plutarch would thus seem to interpret Plato’s Politicus myth, with its overtones of cosmic cycles, as an illustration of this opposition, with di- vine unity in one course and multiplicity in another (De anim. proc. 1026ef). This cyclicity is therefore depicted by Plutarch as two concurrent movements within the universe: order against irrational motion (cf. De Is. 369 c). Bos (2001) has argued that the dualism seen in these passages is more “Aris- totelian” than “Platonic” in that it differentiates between the Mind (or Intellect) and the (embodied) Soul. If in Plato’s ontology the division is between corporeal and non-corporeal reality, corresponding to the differentiation between (visible) corpus and (invisible) soul, so that the intellect is always the utmost and most divine facet of the soul, in Aristotle’s metaphysics there is a consistent division of Soul and Intellect.24 While for Aristotle the soul is immaterial, it is always embodied,25 as opposed to the intellect, which as pure intellect is essentially ‘separated’ from material reality. Although the intellect can be actualized in the soul, it diverges profoundly from the latter since it is not attached to the body as such. It is now commonly acknowledged that Plutarch’s had absorbed many Aristotelian ideas.26 An important passage to illustrate Plutarch’s view is

22 Chlup 2000, 139–40. 23 Explaining Plat. Tim. 30 a and 52 d–53 b on chaotic movements existing before the genera- tion of the universe. 24 Cf. Arist. DA II 2.413b24. On this view in his school see Sharples 2007. 25 Cf. Arist. DA II 1.412a27–8, 412b5–6, II 2.414a19. 26 On the question of how far Plutarch can justifiably be said to be an ‘eclectic’, see Donini Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 9 his philosophical myth at the end of De facie in orbe lunae (On the face which appears in the orb of the moon),27 in which a foreigner comes from the ‘Great Continent’ beyond Oceanos and reveals what happens to man after his death on earth. The key formulas here are that μόριον … εἶναί πως ψυχῆς οἴονται τὸν νοῦν, οὐδὲν ἧττον ἐκείνον. ἁμαρτανοντες, οἷς ἡ ψυχὴ δοκεῖ μόριον εἶναι τοῦ σώματος. – “The Intellect is not a part of the soul, just as those who think the soul Err those who think part of the body” and νοῦς γὰρ ψυχῆς, ὅσῳ ψυχὴ σώματος ἄμεινόν ἐστι καὶ ϑειότερον – “The Intellect is so much more excellent and divine than the soul as the soul is in relation to the body”.28 The first of these statements seems to be in clear opposition to Plato’s belief that Intellect does not subsist separately and independently. The Mind is stated to be the utmost part of the soul.29 Although Soul and Intellect are described as entirely independent forces, this dualism only exists in the sublunary realm, and there is no ultimate independence of these two cosmic principles. Corresponding to the belief in a strong contrast between soul and intellect, John Dillon30 finds in Plutarch’s description a dichotomy he terms a ‘double’ or two-stage death, found in the myth of the dialogue (945bc), that is, first a liberation of the soul and then of the mind. This matches Aristotle’s idea that the soul ‘retires’ and ‘shifts’ at the death of the individual,31 evidently from the sublunary realm to the celestial sphere. Plutarch indeed quotes Aristotle’s lost Eudemus (Consol. ad Apoll. 115be = Arist. fr. 6 Ross) on the happy condition after death.32 It would appear that in this scheme the ‘self’ is to be regarded as an embodied individual composite with actualized intellect.

3 Two Powers or Gods

Plutarch’s dualism sometimes takes the form of two fundamental Powers strug- gling against each other in our world. In the treatise De Iside et Osiride (On Isis

1988, 128. See Dillon 1977, 186. 193 for the view that Plutarch was indebted to the Peripatetics for many formulations and that his terminology of virtue and happiness is Aristotelian. Dillon 1977, 195 argues that Plutarch uses Aristotelian ethics to combat the Stoics: “It is interesting that Plutarch, although in other respects dependent on Alexandrian Platonism, takes in ethics an Aristotelian tack”. On the nature of Plutarch’s Platonism see Jones 1916; Whittaker 1980; Dillon 1986; Opsomer 2005. 27 De fac. 941 f–942 b. 28 De fac. 943 a. 29 Phaedr. 247 b. Cf. Donini 1988. 30 Dillon 1986, 221–2. 31 Cf. Bos 2001 on Arist. DA I 4.408a28, 409a29, I 5.411b8. 32 The main character is Silenus who discloses to Midas that after death life is better than the earthly one. This figure of Silenus might evoke that of Dionysus, the ‘liberator’ and ‘loosener’ of bonds; see Bos 2001. In the second stage of that state, after the soul has departed from the worldly body, and at the final point of its ascent, the intellect is finally set free. 10 Eran Almagor and Osiris) 369 a–371 c he summarizes ancient theories of opposing principles, designed to illustrate one basic – dualistic – fact: εἰ γὰρ οὐδὲν ἀναιτίως πέφυκε γίνεσϑαι, αἰτίαν δὲ κακοῦ τἀγαϑὸν οὐκ ἂν παράσχοι, δεῖ γένεσιν ἰδίαν καὶ ἀρχὴν ὥσπερ ἀγαϑοῦ καὶ κακοῦ τὴν φύσιν ἔχειν For if it is the law of nature that nothing comes into being without a cause, and if the good cannot provide a cause for evil, then it follows that Nature must have in herself the source and origin of evil, just as she contains the source and origin of good. According to Plutarch, the great majority and the wisest of men believe that there are two rival forces or gods: the one the originator of good and the other of evil. He then goes on to cite the Zoroastrian example, in which the prophet called the good deity ‘God’ and the evil one ‘Daemon’, or Oromazes and Areimanius, respectively.33 The struggle between them is ruthless, but shall be eventually decided in favour of the good:34 ἔπεισι δὲ χρόνος εἱμαρμένος, ἐν ᾧ τὸν Ἀρειμάνιον λοιμὸν ἐπάγοντα καὶ λιμὸν ὑπὸ τούτων ἀνάγκη φϑαρῆναι παντάπασι καὶ ἀφανισϑῆναι, τῆς δὲ γῆς ἐπιπέδου καὶ ὁμαλῆς γενομένης ἕνα βίον καὶ μίαν πολιτείαν ἀνϑρώπων μακαρίων καὶ ὁμογλώσσων ἁπάντων γενέσϑαι. Θεόπομπος δέ φησι κατὰ τοὺς μάγους ἀνὰ μέρος τρισχίλια ἔτη τὸν μὲν κρατεῖν τὸν δὲ κρατεῖσϑαι τῶν ϑεῶν, ἄλλα δὲ τρισχίλια μάχεσϑαι καὶ πολεμεῖν καὶ ἀναλύειν τὰ τοῦ ἑτέ- ρου τὸν ἕτερον, τέλος δ’ ἀπολείπεσϑαι τὸν Ἅιδην· καὶ τοὺς μὲν ἀνϑρώπους εὐδαίμονας ἔσεσϑαι μήτε τροφῆς δεομένους μήτε σκιὰν ποιοῦντας, τὸν δὲ ταῦτα μηχανησάμενον ϑεὸν ἠρεμεῖν καὶ ἀναπαύεσϑαι χρόνον [καλῶς] μὲν οὐ πολύν [τῷ ϑεῷ], ὥσπερ ἀνϑρώπῳ κοιμωμένῳ μέτριον. But a destined time shall come when it is decreed that Areimanius, engaged in bringing on pestilence and famine, shall by these be utterly annihilated and shall disappear; and then shall the earth become a level plain, and there shall be one manner of life and one form of government for a blessed people who shall all speak one tongue. Theopompus says that, according to the sages, one god is to overpower, and the other to be overpowered, each in turn for the space of three thousand years, and afterward for another three thousand years they shall fight and war, and the one shall undo the works of the other, and finally Hades shall pass away; then shall the people be happy, and neither shall they need to have food nor shall they cast any shadow. And the god, who has contrived to bring about all these things, shall then have quiet and shall repose for a time, no long time indeed, but for the god as much as would be a moderate time for a man to sleep. In this eschatological depiction, humankind will no longer be affected by the struggle of the deities, and indeed shall throw away its bodily existence, neither requiring any food nor casting any shadow. Bearing in mind the possibility that the human ‘self’ may be construed as an embodied individual, it follows that accepting this form of dualism would imply not only a transcendent strife of powers, but also an immanent one, within ‘myself’. The good and evil divinities

33 Cf. De anim. proc. 1026 b. 34 Cf. also Proc. An. 1026 b. Dillon 1977, 191 is convinced that such Persian influence and knowledge about Persian religion came to Plutarch primarily from his teacher. Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 11 may find a place inside ‘me’ and conduct their struggle from within. If this is the case, the ‘self’ may be simply a combination of these conflicting powers. Indeed, it is the possibility of an intermediate existence to which Plutarch proceeds. He includes other diverse myths of sages, where the dualism is more complex, as in those of the Chaldeans – according to whom there are two tu- telary gods who are beneficent, two maleficent and others who partake in both qualities. Among the Greek philosophers he mentions, it is interesting to note his presentation of Plato’s Leges (10.896 d ff.): ἐν δὲ τοῖς Νόμοις ἤδη πρεσβύτερος ὢν οὐ δι’ αἰνιγμῶν οὐδὲ συμβολικῶς, ἀλλὰ κυρίοις ὀνόμασιν οὐ μιᾷ ψυχῇ φησι κινεῖσϑαι τὸν κόσμον, ἀλλὰ πλείοσιν ἴσως δυεῖν δὲ πάντως οὐκ ἐλάττοσιν· ὧν τὴν μὲν ἀγαϑουργὸν εἶναι, τὴν δ’ ἐναντίαν ταύτῃ καὶ τῶν ἐναντίων δημιουργόν· ἀπολείπει δὲ καὶ τρίτην τινὰ μεταξὺ φύσιν οὐκ ἄψυχον οὐδ’ ἄλογον οὐδ’ ἀκίνητον ἐξ αὑτῆς, ὥσπερ ἔνιοι νομίζουσιν, ἀλλ’ ἀνακειμένην ἀμφοῖν ἐκείναις, ἐφιεμένην δὲ τῆς ἀμείνονος ἀεὶ καὶ ποϑοῦσαν καὶ διώκουσαν … In his Laws, when he had grown considerably older, he [Plato] asserts, not in circumlocu- tion or symbolically, but in specific words, that the movement of the Universe is actuated not by one soul, but perhaps by several, and certainly by not less than two, and of these the one is beneficent, and the other is opposed to it and the artificer of things opposed. Between these he leaves a certain third nature, not inanimate nor irrational nor without the power to move of itself, as some think, but with dependence on both those others, and desiring the better always and yearning after it and pursuing it … Plutarch proceeds to the myths of the Egyptians, allegorizing the myth of Osiris by employing the parts of soul: ἐν μὲν οὖν τῇ ψυχῇ νοῦς καὶ λόγος ὁ τῶν ἀρίστων πάντων ἡγεμὼν καὶ κύριος Ὄσι- ρίς ἐστιν, ἐν δὲ γῇ καὶ πνεύμασι καὶ ὕδασι καὶ οὐρανῷ καὶ ἄστροις τὸ τεταγμένον καὶ καϑεστηκὸς καὶ ὑγιαῖνον ὥραις καὶ κράσεσι καὶ περιόδοις Ὀσίριδος ἀπορροὴ καὶ εἰκὼν ἐμφαινομένη· Τυφὼν δὲ τῆς ψυχῆς τὸ παϑητικὸν καὶ τιτανικὸν καὶ ἄλογον καὶ ἔμπληκτον, τοῦ δὲ σωματικοῦ τὸ ἐπίκηρον καὶ νοσῶδες καὶ ταρακτικὸν ἀωρίαις καὶ δυσκρασίαις καὶ κρύψεσιν ἡλίου καὶ ἀφανισμοῖς σελήνης οἷον ἐκδρομαὶ καὶ ἀφηνιασμοὶ Τυφῶνος. So in the soul Intellect and reason, the Ruler and Lord of all that is good, is Osiris, and in earth and wind and water and the heavens and stars that which is ordered, established, and healthy, as evidenced by season, temperatures, and cycles of revolution, is the efflux of Osiris and his reflected image. But Typhon is that part of the soul which is impressionable, impulsive, irrational and truculent, and of the bodily part the destructible, diseased and disorderly as evidenced by abnormal seasons and temperatures, and by obscurations of the sun and disappearances of the moon, outbursts, as it were, and unruly actions on the part of Typhon. Here Plutarch seems to indicate that the struggle is indeed immanent, internal to the World Soul. It would be interesting to ask whether the human embodied ‘self’ should thus be viewed as constantly in strife. For here Plutarch appears to point out that the struggle is eternal: ἀπολέσϑαι δὲ τὴν φαύλην παντάπασιν ἀδύνατον, πολλὴν μὲν ἐμπεφυκυῖαν τῷ σώματι, πολλὴν δὲ τῇ ψυχῇ τοῦ παντὸς καὶ πρὸς τὴν βελτίονα ἀεὶ δυσμαχοῦσαν – “it is impossible for the bad to be completely 12 Eran Almagor eradicated, since it is innate, in large amount, in the body and likewise in the soul of the Universe, and is always fighting a hard fight against the better”.

4 A Cycle

One passage in the treatise De E Apud Delphos (The E at Delphi 388 e–389 c) in particular presents us with a divine dualism that should perhaps be emphasized in a discussion of the ‘self’. It is a speech put in the mouth of Plutarch as a young man, in which Apollo is identified with the supreme god. Yet, opposite this de- ity, another divinity is mentioned, namely Dionysus, who was also present at Delphi,35 apparently presiding over the oracle for the three winter months, while Apollo was away. Plutarch portrays the relation between the two deities in one condensed passage (389ab): καὶ ᾄδουσι τῷ μὲν διϑυραμβικὰ μέλη παϑῶν μεστὰ καὶ μεταβολῆς πλάνην τινὰ καὶ διαφό- ρησιν ἐχούσης … τῷ δὲ παιᾶνα, τεταγμένην καὶ σώφρονα μοῦσαν, ἀγήρων τε τοῦτον ἀεὶ καὶ νέον ἐκεῖνον δὲ πολυειδῆ καὶ πολύμορφον ἐν γραφαῖς καὶ πλάσμασι δημιουργοῦσι· καὶ ὅλως τῷ μὲν ὁμοιότητα καὶ τάξιν καὶ σπουδὴν ἄκρατον, τῷ δὲ μεμιγμένην τινὰ παιδιᾷ καὶ ὕβρει [καὶ σπουδῇ] καὶ μανίᾳ προσφέροντες ἀνωμαλίαν To [Dionysus] they sing the dithyrambic strains laden with emotion and with a trans- formation that includes a certain erratic wandering and dispersion … but to Apollo they sing the Paean, music orderly and temperate. Apollo the artist represents in painting and sculptures as ever ageless and young, but Dionysus they depict in many shapes and forms; and they attribute to Apollo in general a similarity, order, and unadulterated seriousness, but to Dionysus a certain irregularity combined with playfulness, wantonness, seriousness and frenzy. The Dionysiac aspect of reality is characterized by irregularity, continual changes in shapes and appearances, and emotional effects. As Chlup36 has shown, the context of this passage is a form of a cyclic theory, in which the cosmos is per- ceived as progressing in two phases, an orderly stage which is followed by a multiple and manifold one. The cyclical alternations of Apollo and Dionysus in their presiding over Delphi are thus philosophically allegorized, in an allusion to the cyclicity of nature, without assuming that the alternating phases indicate that the two deities are two aspects of one godhead. While Plutarch usually does not reduce deities to mere philosophical notions,37 in the subsequent speech of the essay, delivered by the figure of Ammonius, Plutarch’s teacher, Apollo is

35 ἀλλὰ καὶ πρὸς τὸν Διόνυσον, ᾧ τῶν Δελφῶν οὐδὲν ἧττον ἢ τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι μέτεστιν. Cf. Chlup 2000, 138. 36 Chlup 2000, 142–4. 37 Chlup 2000, 147 n. 30 points out that in the De Iside et Osiride, the situation is exactly the reverse of the De E: it is Osiris-Dionysus who represents Being, and Apollo- stands for the visible cosmos of Becoming. Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 13 presented as the archetype of unchangeable Being and Unity, in sharp contrast with all multiplicity: οὐ γὰρ πολλὰ τὸ ϑεῖόν ἐστιν, ὡς ἡμῶν ἕκαστος ἐκ μυρίων διαφορῶν ἐν πάϑεσι γινομένων ἄϑροισμα παντοδαπὸν καὶ πανηγυρικῶς μεμιγμένον· ἀλλ’ ἓν εἶναι δεῖ τὸ ὄν, ὥσπερ ὂν τὸ ἕν. ἡ δ’ ἑτερότης διαφορᾷ τοῦ ὄντος εἰς γένεσιν ἐξίσταται τοῦ μὴ ὄντος For the Divine is not many things, in the sense in which each one of us is made up of ten thousand different and successive states, a scrap-heap of units, a mob of individuals. No, that which is must be one, as that is which is one. Variety, any difference in being, passes to one side to produce that which is not (393bc).38 Ammonius goes on to explain the perfect epithet ‘Apollo’ as etymologically meaning ‘Not-Many’,39 denying plurality and excluding multitude. He emphati- cally denies (393 f–394 a) that the god ever changes, as the divinity is concerned with sustaining and preserving, so that the transformations conventionally at- tributed to the supreme god should really to be referred to some other secondary god,40 a subordinate daemon, whose office is concerned with Nature in dissolu- tion and generation (in the sublunar realm). This god or daemon may properly be termed ‘Hades’. The only sense, thus, in which deities could be involved in transformation is in their being associated with the sublunar world, given to the care of ‘Hades’. This hierarchy of divine entities offered in Ammonius’ speech may in fact cohere with Plutarch’s description of an irreducible duality, when the contrast of Apollo and Hades and the clash of Apollo and Dionysus would seem to apply to different ontological layers. In the metaphysical scheme, the dyad, or the two principles, are conceived of as subordinated to the perfectly good supreme god and single principle. Only in the realm of Nature the duality of Apollo and Dionysus subsists.41 In themselves the gods are pure, simple and unchanging, in this world, divinity is more complex and is entangled in conflicts and changes. This point entails a question with relation to the problem of the self: we may assume that subordinate fluctuating divine beings in our level of reality, like daemons, are to be understood as invariable Gods on the divine sphere (and can therefore act as intermediates). Does it make sense to speak here of the same deity or only of a (separate) counterpart in the upper ontological levels? Interpreting sections of reality as signifying respectively the Gods Apollo and Dionysus may point out that human souls are split in a similar manner. Chlup42 points out that Plutarch uses Dionysiac imagery to portray the irrational soul, depicting it like this deity in his moments of uncontrolled madness.43 Like Dio-

38 De E 393bc. 39 Ἀπόλλων μὲν γὰρ οἷον ἀρνούμενος τὰ πολλὰ … 40 Cf. Dillon 2002, 226. 41 Chlup 2000, 149. 42 Chlup 2000, 156–8. 43 De virt mor. 451cd: οὔτε γὰρ οἶνον οἱ φοβούμενοι τὸ μεϑύειν ἐκχέουσιν οὔτε πάϑος οἱ δεδιότες τὸ ταρακτικὸν ἀναιροῦσιν ἀλλὰ κεραννύουσι – “For neither do those who fear 14 Eran Almagor nysus, this aspect of the soul can be of use; the harmonized emotional compo- nent in the soul should be curbed as to be useful. The Apollo-Dionysus pattern has thus ethical consequences. The rational side needs the passions within the soul (452 b).44 Yet, we should harmonize the irrational and the rational elements. Having said this, we should recall here that the model of Apollo and Dionysus is also essentially cyclic, which may partially explain why the irrational side even when restrained for some time, has the potential to be disruptive again. This pattern may explicate sudden (but surprising and indeed relatively rare) occa- sions in which changes in character are noticeable.45 This picture thus points at the divine element within the ‘self’, or rather divine components (in plural), for the Apollonian is there just as the Dionysian, both divine also in respect of being fixed aspects within the individual. Preceding the dichotomy of the German phi- losopher Nietzsche46 and his aesthetic usage of the concepts47, Plutarch already advanced the terms as applicable to the realm of the human condition, the mind and the ‘self’ alongside the dominion of religion and cult. They do not appear to carry here the significance of a formal individuating facet.

5 Transcendent God and Immanent Passions

The supreme object (τέλος) of human life is likeness to God, not conformity with nature (De Sera 550 d ff.). This deity is understood here as transcendent. As God is essentially a pattern of divine excellence,48 human virtue is rendered as assimilation to the divinity, i.e., ‘following God’. Man derives the greatest blessing and virtue by copying and aspiring to the beauty and goodness that are his. Yet, the important ethical task is not to repress the soul-principle within us on behalf drunkenness pour out their wine upon the ground, nor do those who fear passion eradicate the disturbing element, but both temper what they fear”. 44 We should thus not be like Lycurgus, suppressing violent emotions and pretending to be only rational, for it would deprive our reason of energy. 45 Plutarch was long seen as ascribing a static ethos to his heroes, thus making ostensible dramatic changes, such as cruelty, to be understood as the revelation of true character traits, which were concealed for various reasons (cf. Philip’s case in Arat., 49.1). Nevertheless, this approach has been challenged by scholars who believe that Plutarch espoused a belief in the possibility of an altered character. See Brenk 1977, 176–81; Swain 1989. Cf. De sera, 559bc. According to this modified view, Plutarch holds that a person confronted with great changes in circumstances, or vitiated by undeserved calamities, may lose his internal balance between the rational and irrational. Compare the notable case of Sertorius (Sert. 25.6). See Russell 1966, 146; Bucher-Isler 1972, 79–80, for the opinion that Plutarch believes in the constant nature (physis) of a hero, i.e., his inborn qualities, as opposed to his changeable character. Cf. De tranq. an. 475 d–476 a. On this uncertainty, see Almagor 2009, 142. 46 Nietzsche 1872. 47 On the picture Nietzsche portrays by the employment of these concepts, see Del Caro 1989. On his relation to Plutarch’s writings (but not to this dichotomy) cf. Ingenkamp 1988. 48 Cf. Plat. Theat. 176 e. Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 15 of the Intellect but rather to attain a union of the two in which the energy of Soul would be cultivated and brought into intelligent order. As the Demiurge did not eradicate the Soul but united it with Intellect and made it orderly, it is the task of the human being to nurture his or her emotions and bring them into agreement with reason (De virt. mor. 451cd): καὶ γὰρ ἕξει συνέχεται καὶ φύσει τρέφεται καὶ λόγῳ χρῆται καὶ διανοίᾳ. μέτεστιν οὖν αὐτῷ καὶ τοῦ ἀλόγου, καὶ σύμφυτον ἔχει τὴν τοῦ πάϑους ἀρχήν, οὐκ ἐπεισόδιον ἀλλ’ ἀναγκαίαν οὖσαν, οὐδ’ ἀναιρετέαν παντάπασιν ἀλλὰ ϑεραπείας καὶ παιδαγωγίας δεομένην. ὅϑεν οὐ Θρᾴκιον οὐδὲ Λυκούργειον τοῦ λόγου τὸ ἔργον ἐστί, συνεκκόπτειν καὶ συνδιαφϑείρειν τὰ ὠφέλιμα τοῖς βλαβεροῖς τοῦ πάϑους, ἀλλ’ ᾗπερ ὁ φυτάλμιος ϑεὸς καὶ ἡμερίδης, τὸ ἄγριον κολοῦσαι καὶ ἀφελεῖν τὴν ἀμετρίαν, εἶτα τιϑασεύειν καὶ παριστάναι τὸ χρήσιμον For he is controlled by his acquired disposition, nurtured by his natural disposition, and makes use of reason and intellect. He has, therefore, some portion of the irrational also and has innate within him the mainspring of emotion, not as an adventitious accessory, but as a necessary part of his being, which should never be done away with entirely, but must needs have careful tending and education. Therefore the work of reason is not Thra- cian, not like that of Lycurgus – to cut down and destroy the helpful elements of emotion together with the harmful, but to do as the god who watches over crops and the god who guards the vine do – to lop off the wild growth and to clip away excessive luxuriance, and then to cultivate and to dispose for use the serviceable remainder. And in another place (De Mor. Virt. 444 c): ἡ δ’ ἀναγκαία διὰ τὸ σῶμα καὶ δεομένη τῆς παϑητικῆς ὥσπερ ὀργανικῆς ὑπηρεσίας ἐπὶ τὸ πρακτικόν, οὐκ οὖσα φϑορὰ τοῦ ἀλόγου τῆς ψυχῆς οὐδ’ ἀναίρεσις ἀλλὰ τάξις καὶ διακόσμησις the virtue which is necessary to us because of our physical limitations and needs for its practical ends the service of the passions as its instrument – does not destruct or abolish the irrational in the soul but orders it and regulates it. Thus, it might be said that the ‘self’ is constructed by aspiring to assimilate the transcendent God and by ordering the immanent passions – two undertakings that highlight the dual nature of the human being.

6 Character, Personality and Self

The heuristic usefulness of Christopher Gill’s distinction between ‘character’ and ‘personality’ to describe the two main approaches to the self in ancient and modern periods, is acknowledged and cannot be undermined.49 According to this division, a ‘character-viewpoint’ regards the person as the possessor of good or bad qualities that merit praise or blame, involves subsuming the individual to a category, and is more judgmental. ‘Personality-viewpoint’, on the other hand,

49 For this distinction, see Gill 1983. Cf. Gill 1986; Gill 1990. 16 Eran Almagor assumes a definition of the uniqueness and identity of the individual and how he or she is different from others. It also entails an understanding of the person, explanation of the individual’s actions in an ethically neutral way, and is inter- ested in charting the transient phases of the person’s psychological life. In the first articulation of this scheme, Gill suggested that Plutarch is typically more concerned with character (in an evaluative way), whereas modern biography has to do with personality.50 While Christopher Pelling basically agrees with Gill’s conclusion, that Plutarch’s interest is more in ‘character’, he has reservations.51 Indeed, Plutarch is not trying to ‘get into the skin’ of his heroes, to see the beginning of their special emotions, to work out why they acted in a certain way or to connect it to what was individual in the person’s background and circumstances. This interest corresponds to the focus on a typical class of ‘character’, inviting ethical judgement and the exemplary moral to be drawn. The psychological understanding of a figure, claims Pelling, may sometimes be present, along with the reconstruction of a very individual set of circumstances and influences. Yet, it is indeed a means to an end, to guide our moral judge- ment. Nevertheless, Pelling argues against the universal applicability of these categories in Plutarch’s descriptions: firstly, Plutarch does seem to be considering at times what sort of background and experience must have led to the formation of a particular personality (e.g., in the Coriolanus). Secondly, Pelling discerns a characterization method, also used by other ancient authors, to the effect that the depiction is done initially in a very general terms and then is gradually corrected and redefined till it becomes more a singular, subtler and individual picture; in other words, the biographer may begin with portraying a ‘character’ but then might proceed to illustrate an individuated ‘personality’.52 In all, Pelling is of the opinion that both viewpoints are discernible in Plutarch. It may be suggested that if a ‘character-viewpoint’ stereotypically sees the person from the ‘outside’ while the ‘personality-viewpoint’ tends to understand the individual from the ‘inside’, then one feature of Plutarch’s dualistic frame of mind may elucidate the manner in which it is possible to understand the ‘self’ from both viewpoints. We may notice that Plutarch, like other Middle Platon- ists53 is viewing the Ideas as well as the Logos as both immanent and as trans- cendent. The Ideas, for instance, in their immanent aspect, are the content of the immanent Logos. As transcendent, they are the thoughts of God. The Supreme Being himself, as the totality of ideas, is the model (παράδειγμα) for the physical

50 Gill 1983, 472–4. Gill is aware that that does not rule out Plutarch’s interest in the de- velopment of character (474). 51 Pelling 2002, 308–12, 321–2. 52 Pelling 2002, 292–7, 311 gives examples for this technique in the Alcibiades and the Lysander. 53 Cf. Dillon 1977, 201. Dualism and the Self in Plutarch’s Thought 17 world and particularly for man.54 There are two moments of Osiris, in the Egyp- tian myth: at one point he is his soul (eternal, transcendent and indestructible) and in another moment he is his body (which is repeatedly torn by Typhon, and constantly reassembled by Isis).55 These two moments may perhaps be applied to the human state itself, and be used in addressing Plutarch’s fluctuation between a depiction of the person ‘from within’ as developmental and of his character ‘from without’ as a paradigm or an archetype.

7 Self and Narrative

Richard Sorabji56 has pointed out that in Plutarch’s works there is an advanced and unique way of viewing the self – as part of an explosion of new ideas in the second century AD – by linking the ‘I’ with narrative.57 Writing about tranquil- ity, Plutarch suggests securing it by using our memories to weave our lives into a unified whole. This continuous self is thus not given but is rather constructed, even though the building-blocks were there (De tranqu. anim. 473 b–474 b): ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ ὁ ζωγραφούμενος ἐν Ἅιδου σχοινοστρόφος ὄνῳ τινὶ παρίησιν ἐπιβοσκομένῳ καταναλίσκειν τὸ πλεκόμενον, οὕτω τῶν πολλῶν ἀναίσϑητος καὶ ἀχάριστος ὑπολαμβά- νουσα λήϑη καὶ κατανεμομένη πρᾶξίν τε πᾶσαν ἀφανίζουσα καὶ κατόρϑωμα καὶ σχολὴν ἐπίχαριν καὶ συμπεριφορὰν καὶ ἀπόλαυσιν οὐκ ἐᾷ τὸν βίον ἕνα γενέσϑαι συμπλεκομένων τοῖς παροῦσι τῶν παρῳχημένων, ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ ἕτερον τὸν ἐχϑὲς ὄντα τοῦ σήμερον καὶ τὸν αὔριον ὁμοίως οὐ τὸν αὐτὸν τῷ σήμερον διαιροῦσα πᾶν τὸ γιγνόμενον εὐϑὺς εἰς τὸ ἀγέ- νητον τῷ ἀμνημονεύτῳ καϑίστησιν. οἱ μὲν γὰρ ἐν ταῖς σχολαῖς τὰς αὐξήσεις ἀναιροῦντες, ὡς τῆς οὐσίας ἐνδελεχῶς ῥεούσης, λόγῳ ποιοῦσιν ἡμῶν ἕκαστον ἄλλον ἑαυτοῦ καὶ ἄλλον, οἱ δὲ τῇ μνήμῃ τὰ πρότερον μὴ στέγοντες μηδ’ ἀναλαμβάνοντες ἀλλ’ ὑπεκρεῖν ἐῶντες ἔργῳ ποιοῦσιν ἑαυτοὺς καϑ’ ἡμέραν ἀποδεεῖς καὶ κενοὺς καὶ τῆς αὔριον ἐκκρεμαμένους, ὡς τῶν πέρυσι καὶ πρῴην καὶ χϑὲς οὐ πρὸς αὐτοὺς ὄντων οὐδ’ ὅλως αὐτοῖς γενομένων. But like that painting of a man twisting rope in Hades, who permits a donkey grazing nearby to eat it up as he plaits it, so insensible and thankless forgetfulness steals upon the multitude and takes possession of them, consuming every action and success, every pleas- ant moment of leisure and companionship and enjoyment; it does not allow life to become unified, when past is interwoven with present, but separating yesterday, as though it were different, from to‑day, and to‑morrow likewise, as though it were not the same as to‑day, forgetfulness straightway makes every event to have never happened because it is never recalled. For those who in the Schools do away with growth and increase on the ground that Being is in a continual flux, in theory make each of us a series of persons different from oneself; so those who do not preserve or recall by memory former events, but allow them to flow away, actually make themselves deficient and empty each day and dependent

54 Cf. De Sera 550 d. 55 Cf. De Is. 373ab. 56 Sorabji 2006, 172–180. Cf. Sorabji 2008, 21–2. 57 Sorabji also attributes this view to Seneca, De Brev. Vitae 10.3–6.