A Commentary on Plutarch's De Latenter Vivendo

A Commentary on Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo © 2007 Leuven University Press / Universitaire Pers Leuven / Presses Un...

Author: Geert Roskam

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A Commentary on Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo

© 2007 Leuven University Press / Universitaire Pers Leuven / Presses Universitaires de Louvain Minderbroedersstraat 4, B-3000 Leuven All rights reserved. Except in those cases expressly determined by law, no part of this publication may be multiplied, saved in an automated datafile or made public in any way whatsoever without the express prior written consent of the publishers. ISBN 978 90 5867 603 0 D/2007/1869/23 NUR: 635 Cover design: Joke Klaassen

A Commentary on Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo Geert Roskam

Leuven University Press 2007

To my children

εἰ μή τι κακὸν ἦν, οὐκ ἂν ἀπεκρύπτετο. (Plutarch, De cur. 516E)

gloria umbra virtutis est: etiam invitam comitabitur. (Seneca, epist. 79,13)

“Thème boehmien de la vie cachée, obscure, mouvement perpétuel sans frein et sans but, vie qui se poursuit elle-même, se ronge, se dévore et se fuit; vie inquiète, vie de désespoir sans fin et sans lumière” (R. Barthes, le neutre, ed. Th. Clerc, p. 130)

Contents Acknowledgements

7

Abbreviations

8

Introduction

15

1. Epicurus and the Epicurean tradition

17

1.1. Λάθε βιώσας: a psychagogic remedy

17

1.2. A two-step cure: ἔλεγχος and νουθέτησις

19

1.2.1. ἔλεγχος

19

1.2.2. νουθέτησις

28

1.3. Three further characteristics of Epicurus’ psychagogical approach

32

1.4. Qualifications and restrictions: φρόνησις at work

36

1.5. Conclusion

40

2. The anti-Epicurean tradition before Plutarch

43

2.1. Timocrates

43

2.2. Cicero

49

2.3. The Stoa

69

2.3.1. Early Stoicism

69

2.3.2. Seneca

71

2.3.3. Epictetus

80

3. Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo

85

3.1. Introduction: the work and its author

85

3.2. Inconsistency between Epicurus’ words and deeds

90

6

G. Roskam 3.3. The ethical arguments

99

3.4. Epicurus’ egoistic hedonism versus Plutarch’s social commitment

118

3.5. Man as a social being

132

3.6. The ontological foundations: the connection between being and being known

138

3.7. An eschatological perspective

159

3.8. Conclusion

174

3.8.1. Plutarch as a polemicist: eristic strategies and anti-Epicurean polemic in De latenter vivendo

174

3.8.2. Plutarch’s own position as presented in De latenter vivendo

175

3.8.3. Plutarch’s philosophical position in De latenter vivendo: a schematic survey

179

3.9. Schematic structure of De latenter vivendo

180

Commentary

183

Bibliography

223

Indices

247

Index nominum

249

Index locorum

253

Acknowledgements Gratitude to friends was of paramount importance in the Garden. Although I disagree with Epicurus’ basically self-centred motivation, I have no difficulty in admitting that I derived many Epicurean pleasures from the following paragraphs. First and foremost, my thanks are due to L. Van der Stockt, the supervisor of my PhD dissertation on Plutarch. I have benefited greatly, and continue to benefit, from his valuable and stimulating advice. In his respect for my own alterity, he far surpasses Plutarch’s high moral demands, in savoir vivre he is Epicurus’ equal. A significant part of this book has been written during a stay at Utrecht University. I am indebted to many members of the staff, especially to K. Algra and J. Mansfeld, with whom I could discuss the Epicurean position in detail. I am also much indebted to W. Evenepoel, H.G. Ingenkamp, J. Opsomer, and C. Steel, all of whom read parts of an earlier draft and made many useful and pertinent suggestions. Special thanks are also due to Michael and Julianne Funk Deckard for having corrected my English. Needless to say, all shortcomings remain my own. It is a pleasure to extend thanks to my colleagues at the Department of Classical Studies at the Catholic University of Leuven and to the members of the De Wulf - Mansion Centre at the Leuven Institute of Philosophy. I also gratefully acknowledge the financial support of the Fund for Scientific Research - Flanders (Belgium). Finally, I am glad to express my thanks to my parents, who offered me ζῆν and contributed a great deal to εὖ ζῆν as well, to my children, whose cheerful simplicity forms the perfect antidote to the complex vexations of the scholarly life, and to my wife Kristin, who had to share me with both Epicurus and Plutarch. It is clear that without her unconditional and generous readiness to do so, this book would never have been written.

Abbreviations 1. Plutarch’s works 1.1. Moralia De liberis educandis

De lib. educ.

De audiendis poetis (Quomodo adulescens poetas audire debeat)

De aud. poet.

De audiendo (De recta ratione audiendi)

De aud.

De adulatore et amico (Quomodo adulator ab amico internoscatur)

De ad. et am.

De profectibus in virtute (Quomodo quis suos in virtute sentiat profectus)

De prof. in virt.

De capienda ex inimicis utilitate

De cap. ex inim.

De amicorum multitudine

De am. mult.

De fortuna

De fortuna

De virtute et vitio

De virt. et vit.

Consolatio ad Apollonium

Cons. ad Apoll.

De tuenda sanitate praecepta

De tuenda

Coniugalia praecepta

Con. praec.

Septem sapientium convivium

Sept. sap. conv.

De superstitione

De sup.

Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata

Reg. et imp. apophth.

Apophthegmata Laconica – Instituta Laconica – Lacaenarum apophthegmata

Apophth. Lac.

Mulierum virtutes

Mul. virt.

Quaestiones Romanae

Quaest. Rom.

Quaestiones Graecae

Quaest. Graec.

Parallela Graeca et Romana

Parall. Graec. et Rom.

De fortuna Romanorum

De fort. Rom.

De Alexandri Magni fortuna aut virtute

De Al. Magn. fort.

Bellone an pace clariores fuerint Athenienses (De gloria Atheniensium)

Bellone an pace

De Iside et Osiride

De Is. et Os.

De E Delphico (De E apud Delphos)

De E

Abbreviations

9

De Pythiae oraculis

De Pyth. or.

De defectu oraculorum

De def. or.

An virtus doceri possit

An virt. doc.

De virtute morali

De virt. mor.

De cohibenda ira

De coh. ira

De tranquillitate animi

De tranq. an.

De fraterno amore

De frat. am.

De amore prolis

De am. prol.

An vitiositas ad infelicitatem sufficiat

An vitiositas

Animine an corporis affectiones sint peiores

Animine an corp.

De garrulitate

De gar.

De curiositate

De cur.

De cupiditate divitiarum

De cup. div.

De vitioso pudore

De vit. pud.

De invidia et odio

De inv. et od.

De se ipsum citra invidiam laudando (De laude ipsius)

De se ipsum laud.

De sera numinis vindicta

De sera num.

De fato

De fato

De genio Socratis (De Socratis daemonio)

De genio Socr.

De exilio

De exilio

Consolatio ad uxorem

Cons. ad ux.

Quaestionum Convivalium l. IX

Quaest. conv.

Amatorius

Amatorius

Amatoriae narrationes

Am. narr.

Maxime cum principibus philosopho esse disserendum (Maxime cum principibus philosophandum esse)

Maxime cum principibus

Ad principem ineruditum

Ad princ. iner.

An seni respublica gerenda sit

An seni

Praecepta gerendae reipublicae

Praec. ger. reip.

De unius in republica dominatione, populari statu, et paucorum imperio

De unius

De vitando aere alieno

De vit. aer.

Decem oratorum vitae

Dec. or. vit.

Comparationis Aristophanis et Menandri epitome

Comp. Ar. et Men.

De Herodoti malignitate

De Her. mal.

Placita philosophorum

Plac. philos.

Quaestiones naturales

Quaest. nat.

10

Abbreviations

De facie quae in orbe lunae apparet

De facie

De primo frigido

De prim. frig.

Aqua an ignis utilior sit

Aqua an ignis

De sollertia animalium (Terrestriane an aquatilia animalia sint callidiora)

De soll. an.

Gryllus (Bruta animalia ratione uti)

Gryllus

De esu carnium

De esu

Quaestiones Platonicae

Quaest. Plat.

De animae procreatione in Timaeo

De an. procr.

De Stoicorum repugnantiis

De Stoic. rep.

Stoicos absurdiora poetis dicere

Stoic. absurd. poet.

De communibus notitiis adversus Stoicos

De comm. not.

Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum

Non posse

Adversus Colotem

Adv. Col.

De latenter vivendo (An recte dicendum sit latenter esse vivendum)

De lat. viv.

De musica

De mus.

Fragmenta

fr.

1.2. Vitae Theseus

Thes.

Romulus

Rom.

Comparatio Thesei et Romuli

Comp. Thes. et Rom.

Lycurgus

Lyc.

Numa

Num.

Comparatio Lycurgi et Numae

Comp. Lyc. et Num.

Solon

Sol.

Publicola

Publ.

Comparatio Solonis et Publicolae

Comp. Sol. et Publ.

Themistocles

Them.

Camillus

Cam.

Aristides

Arist.

Cato Maior

Ca. Ma.

Comparatio Aristidis et Catonis

Comp. Arist. et Ca. Ma.

Cimon

Cim.

Lucullus

Luc.

Comparatio Cimonis et Luculli

Comp. Cim. et Luc.

Abbreviations

11

Pericles

Per.

Fabius Maximus

Fab.

Comparatio Periclis et Fabii Maximi

Comp. Per. et Fab.

Nicias

Nic.

Crassus

Crass.

Comparatio Niciae et Crassi

Comp. Nic. et Crass.

Alcibiades

Alc.

Marcius Coriolanus

Cor.

Comparatio Alcibiadis et Marcii Coriolani

Comp. Alc. et Cor.

Lysander

Lys.

Sulla

Sull.

Comparatio Lysandri et Sullae

Comp. Lys. et Sull.

Agesilaus

Ages.

Pompeius

Pomp.

Comparatio Agesilai et Pompeii

Comp. Ages. et Pomp.

Pelopidas

Pel.

Marcellus

Marc.

Comparatio Pelopidae et Marcelli

Comp. Pel. et Marc.

Dion

Dion

Brutus

Brut.

Comparatio Dionis et Bruti

Comp. Dion. et Brut.

Timoleon

Tim.

Aemilius Paulus

Aem.

Comparatio Timoleontis et Aemilii Pauli

Comp. Tim. et Aem.

Demosthenes

Dem.

Cicero

Cic.

Comparatio Demosthenis et Ciceronis

Comp. Dem. et Cic.

Alexander

Alex.

Caesar

Caes.

Sertorius

Sert.

Eumenes

Eum.

Comparatio Sertorii et Eumenis

Comp. Sert. et Eum.

Phocion

Phoc.

Cato Minor

Ca. Mi.

Demetrius

Demetr.

Antonius

Ant.

Comparatio Demetrii et Antonii

Comp. Demetr. et Ant.

12

Abbreviations

Pyrrhus

Pyrrh.

Caius Marius

Mar.

Agis

Agis

Cleomenes

Cleom.

Tiberius Gracchus

TG

Caius Gracchus

CG

Comparatio Agidis et Cleomenis cum Tiberio et Caio Graccho

Comp. Ag., Cleom. et Gracch.

Philopoemen

Phil.

Titus Flamininus

Flam.

Comparatio Philopoemenis et Titi Flaminini

Comp. Phil. et Flam.

Aratus

Arat.

Artaxerxes

Art.

Galba

Galba

Otho

Oth.

2. Other abbreviations References to Latin authors follow the forms established by the TLL. Abbreviations of Greek authors and works are usually as listed in LSJ. Where they differ, they are more complete. Abbreviations of journals are as listed in L’Année Philologique. AB

I. Bekker (ed.), Anecdota Graeca, Graz, 1965 [= Berlin, 1814-1821].

ANRW

Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, Berlin – New York, 1972-.

BT

Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana

CPF

Corpus dei papiri filosofici greci e latini. Testi e lessico nei papiri di cultura greca e latina, Firenze, 1989-.

CPG

E.L. a Leutsch – F.G. Schneidewin (eds.), Corpus Paroemiographorum Graecorum, Göttingen, 1839-1851.

CUF

Collection des Universités de France

DK

H. Diels – W. Kranz (eds.), Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, Dublin – Zurich, 19661967.

IG

Inscriptiones Graecae, [various editors], Berolini, 1890-.

LCL

Loeb Classical Library

LSJ

H.G. Liddell – R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, 9th edn., rev. H. Stuart Jones, with a revised supplement, Oxford, 1996.

Abbreviations

13

PG

Patrologia graeca

PHerc.

Herculaneum Papyri; cf. M. Gigante, Catalogo dei Papiri Ercolanesi, Napoli, 1979.

PL

Patrologia latina

PMG

D.L. Page (ed.), Poetae melici graeci. Alcmanis Stesichori Ibyci Anacreontis Simonidis Corinnae Poetarum minorum reliquias, carmina popularia et convivialia quaeque adespota feruntur, Oxford, 1962.

POxy.

B.P. Grenfell – A.S. Hunt (and others) (eds.), The Oxyrhynchus Papyri, London, 1898-.

PTS

Patristische Texte und Studien

RE

G. Wissowa (and others) (ed.), Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, München – Stuttgart, 1893-1980.

RS

Ratae Sententiae (= Κύριαι δόξαι)

SEG

Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, [various editors], Lugduni Batavorum – Amsterdam, 1923-.

SH

H. Lloyd-Jones – P. Parsons (eds.), Supplementum Hellenisticum [Indices by H.-G. Nesselrath], Berolini – Novi Eboraci, 1983 (Texte und Kommentare 11).

SIG

G. Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, Hildesheim, 19604 [= Leipzig, 1915-19243].

SV

Sententiae Vaticanae

SVF

J. von Arnim (ed.), Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta [indices by M. Adler], Leipzig, 1903-1924.

TAM

E. Kalinka (and others) (ed.), Tituli Asiae Minoris, Vindobonae, 1901-1989.

TLL

Thesaurus Linguae Latinae (Index: Leipzig, 1990).

TrGF

B. Snell – R. Kannicht – S. Radt (eds.), Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, Göttingen, 1977-2004.

introduction

1. Epicurus and the Epicurean tradition 1.1. Λάθε βιώσας: a psychagogic remedy The story of this book begins at the end of the fourth, or the beginning of the third, century B.C. At about that moment, Epicurus formulated his famous advice to ‘live unnoticed’ (λάθε βιώσας; fr. 551 Us.). This advice was based on his sincere conviction that happiness could best be reached by avoiding a brilliant career1. It is neither the famous politicians nor the celebrated orators who should be regarded as paradigms worthy of imitation, but the man who quietly enjoys the uncomplicated pleasures of a simple and sequestered life. As a rule, this preference for an ‘unnoticed life’ should be consistently maintained until one’s last hour: λάθε βιώσας culminates in λάθε ἀποβιώσας. Epicurus was not the first one to reject participation in politics. Euripides already paid a great deal of attention to this issue in several of his tragedies. Ion, for instance, elaborated different rational arguments against political engagement in Athens (Ion 595-647), just as Amphion did in his famous debate with his brother Zethos (TrGF 5.1, fr. 193 and 194; cf. also fr. 227)2 or Odysseus at the outset of the lost Philoctetes (TrGF 5.2, fr. 787). In none of these tragedies, however, has the motif seemed to influence the thread of the story. It usually occurs at the beginning of the play, where it contributes to the characterisation of the dramatis personae and raises questions that undermine the heroic perspective of the traditional myth. Moreover, such questions may well have reflected the convictions of several members of the audience. We know that around 430 B.C., a group of young and talented aristocrats deliberately presented themselves as ἀπράγμονες because they preferred the rest of a sequestered life to the risks entailed by a political career3. In philosophical circles, finally, the motif of the ‘unnoticed life’ occasionally occurs in the Democritean tradition4. Democritus’ famous statement “I came to Athens and nobody knew me” (fr. 68 B 116 DK) is often quoted by later authors, but its precise meaning, background, and scope are far from clear. It may reflect Democritus’ decision to pursue an ‘unnoticed life’ out 1 For the following presentation of Epicurus’ argument, I rely heavily on G. Roskam (2007), where further details can be found. 2 Allusions to this debate can be found in the last part of Plato’s Gorgias, where Socrates sides with Amphion; see, e.g., S.R. Slings (1991); A.W. Nightingale (1992). 3 See esp. L.B. Carter (1986); cf. also S. Gastaldi (2003), 48-56. 4 See J. Warren (2002) for a useful introduction.

18

Epicurus and the epicurean tradition

of contempt for fame (cf. Diog. Laert. 9,36 and Cicero, Tusc. 5,104), but may be equally rooted in a completely different context. Democritus’ political philosophy in general seems to have been rather ambivalent, and perhaps he never expressed himself clearly about the desirability of political engagement. Later Pyrrho likewise preferred to withdraw, but his decision was based on his concern for pedagogical credibility rather than on the doctrine or example of Democritus (Diog. Laert. 9,63). He may have influenced Epicurus, though. We know in any case that the latter greatly admired Pyrrho’s conduct and often asked his teacher Nausiphanes for information about him (Diog. Laert. 9,64). As far as we know, however, Epicurus was the first one to motivate and defend the ideal of an ‘unnoticed life’ by a coherent and systematic argumentation. Although the maxim λάθε βιώσας has come down to us without its direct context, we can easily connect it to the broader perspective of Epicurus’ philosophy5. This philosophical perspective is at the same time a psychagogical perspective. For Epicurus, philosophy is basically Seelenheilung. He addresses his readers as patients who suffer from diseases such as irrational fears and empty desires (SV 64; Porphyry, Marc. 27 = fr. 471 Us.) and offers his philosophy as a therapy (SV 54; Porphyry, Marc. 31 = fr. 221 Us.) which rests, essentially, on a fourfold cure (τετραφάρμακος)6. This cure should directly restore the patient to health, that is, pleasure (Diog. Laert. 10,138 = fr. 504 Us.) and happiness (Epist. ad Men. 122). This psychotherapeutic understanding of philosophy remained important throughout the whole tradition of Epicureanism. Different psychagogical techniques can be found in Lucretius’ De rerum natura7 and in Philodemus. The latter’s treatise On frankness provides an interesting picture of Epicurean Seelenheilung. We can read how the Epicurean teachers act as doctors who try to cure the moral diseases of their pupils with healing παρρησία. Philodemus’ works also throw light on the more concrete Epicurean therapy of passions and vices. He wrote a work On vices in at least 10 books, including discussions of flattery (De adulatione), arrogance (De superbia), and avarice (De avaritia), and added other treatises on, for instance, anger (De ira), madness (De insania), and envy (De invidia). This seems to point to a fairly systematic and comprehensive psychotherapeutic method, which could Epicurus’ lost work Περὶ βίων may have been of paramount importance in this context, since it not merely contained a rejection of political engagement (Diog. Laert. 10,119 = fr. 8 Us.) but perhaps also a positive defence of the Epicurean alternative of a sequestered life. This, in any case, is suggested by M. Schofield (2000), 436-437; cf. Id. (1999), 741; M. Erler - M. Schofield (1999), 669. 6 That is, the first four maxims of the Κύριαι δόξαι, epitomised in Philodemus, Πρὸς τοὺς ––, col. v, 8-13 A. 7 See, e.g., A. Grilli (1957) on the proem of book 2, and in general P.H. Schrijvers (1969) and (1970), passim; D. Clay (1983a), 169-266. 5


19

procure the adequate moral support to cure all kinds of passions8. Diogenes of Oenoanda, finally, still continues to adopt the same perspective. He places the whole of his Epicurean inscription into a psychagogical framework by arguing that most of his contemporaries suffer from a common disease (fr. 3, IV, 3-8) and offering his inscription as a medicine that can cure them all (fr. 3, V, 8 – VI, 4). 1.2. A two-step cure: ἔλεγχος and νουθέτησις The importance of this psychagogical aspect of Epicurus’ thinking can hardly be overemphasised. At the same time it illustrates the high demands which Epicurean philosophy makes on its adherents, requiring as it does a radical cure that has implications for the whole of one’s life. The patient has to go through a difficult therapeutic process comprised of two basic components. On the one hand, his erroneous convictions entailing all kinds of irrational fears and vain desires should be refuted. This is the phase of ἔλεγχος (cf. SV 21; ἐπανόρθωσις in fr. [34],25,31 2Arr.), in which the soul of the patient is freed from wrong assumptions and made receptive to more correct ideas. On the other hand, the patient is strongly invited to adopt the better alternative. This is the phase of νουθέτησις (fr. [34],25,22-23 2Arr.), which ultimately leads to health. Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας obviously belongs to the second phase, since it offers positive advice that directly contributes to happiness. However, it will only convince the patient if the ἔλεγχος has already done its work. In practice both phases are intertwined and mutually complement each other, to be sure, but structurally, it is the ἔλεγχος that should come first. 1.2.1. ἔλεγχος Epicurus’ philosophy contained a strongly provocative component and often proved diametrically opposed to widespread convictions. Laughter was used as an important means to disregard these common views9, but reason was no less efficient. A sober analysis of real life, combined with a careful calculus of pleasure and pain, frequently unmasks traditional beliefs as irrational and unjustified, and the elenctic phase in general is characterised by eye-opening criticism based on thorough realism and a down-to-earth approach. This also appears in Epicurus’ evaluation of politics and politicians. 1.2.1.1. The domain of politics was highly esteemed in traditional philosophical thinking. Most of the Presocratics were aristocrats who somehow or other engaged in public life and the political orientation of Plato and 8

On Philodemus’ moral therapy, see V. Tsouna (2001a) and (2001b). See J. Salem (1989), 167-174.

9

20


ristotle appears on many pages of their works. Epicurus took a completely A different path, stripping politics of its appeal and attractiveness. a) First of all, politics is traditionally regarded as the domain of honourable achievements. Its field is that of τὸ καλόν (cf., e.g., Aristotle, EE 1, 1216a23-27). Epicurus vehemently attacks this view, which also returns in Plutarch10. In his opinion, τὸ καλόν is no more than an empty term (fr. 511 Us. = Cicero, Tusc. 5,73; 5,119; etc.)11. The political scene is not dominated by what is honourable but by empty desires that oppose true pleasure. This evaluation, which is based on Epicurus’ classic distinction between three kinds of desires (RS 29; SV 20; cf. Epist. ad Men. 127), provides one of the most important arguments against participation in political life. Politics is unmasked as a disordered and uninterrupted pursuit of unnatural and unnecessary desires by which real pleasure is continuously postponed12. Moreover, such empty desires are usually harmful for the community as a whole. Torquatus argues that they ruin both families and the state (Cicero, fin. 1,43-44) and Lucretius attacks the passions of avarice and ambition as social evils in 3,59-86. R.C. Monti has connected this kind of argument with a typically Roman point of view13. This may well be an unjustified generalisation – a Greek Platonist or Stoic would defend the same position – but Monti is right that the argument reflects a basically un-Epicurean perspective. Philodemus’ tenet that it is better to care for oneself than for the ordinary multitude (Rhet. II, 157, fr. xvii, 3-8 S.) illustrates the Epicurean point of view much better. Yet this need not imply that Torquatus or Lucretius in this respect fully abandon the orthodox Epicurean view. Their argument should rather be understood in the light of an eristic strategy. They actually try to demonstrate that the widespread un-Epicurean position directly entails conclusions that run counter to what is, in that position itself, regarded as an ideal. In this sense, their argument has an important elenctic function and in the end clears the way for the orthodox Epicurean point of view. b) Secondly, the debate on the status of political rhetoric may have helped to temper the traditional enthusiasm for politics. Important in this respect is Metrodorus’ attack against Epicurus’ teacher Nausiphanes14. According to 10 In Non posse 1092E, φιλοκαλία is regarded as the exemplary virtue of the vita activa, just as φιλομαθία serves as paradigmatic quality of the vita contemplativa; cf. also An seni 783C and 786D; Praec. ger. reip. 799A and 822C; De lat. viv. 1129B. 11 A concept such as τὸ καλόν can only be meaningful if it is reoriented towards an Epicurean perspective; cf. Seneca, epist. 2,6 (= fr. 475 Us.); Epist. ad Men. 132; RS 5 = SV 5; A. Long (1986), 302-304. 12 Cf. also Lucretius, 2,16-19; Diogenes of Oenoanda, fr. 29, ii, 4 – iii, 3 and NF 131, 1-6. 13 (1981), 58-66. 14 In his work Πρὸς τοὺς ἀπὸ φυσιολογίας λέγοντας ἀγαθοὺς εἶναι ῥήτορας; fr. 25 K. = Phi-


21

Philodemus15, Metrodorus argued that political rhetoric should not be considered as an art. Moreover, political success in Metrodorus’ view presupposes insight into the public interest (Rhet. II [PHerc. 1672], col. xxii, 18-19 L.A. and Rhet. III, col. xli, 8-9 Ham.) and especially practical experience (Rhet. II [PHerc. 1672], col. xxii, 7-25 L.A.; cf. [PHerc. 1674], col. liv, 2227 L.A.), neither of which can be gained by theoretical study of nature. Philodemus himself adds that such political success is far from certain, since the politician can never be sure about the reactions of the capricious multitude16. Politics, then, turns out to be a risky business. c) Thirdly, politics was probably regarded as the direct way to all kinds of interesting advantages. One should merely recall Stratocles’ and Dromocleides’ characterisation of the speaker’s platform as “the golden harvest” (Plutarch, Praec. ger. reip. 799F-800A). Along such lines, political engagement could be understood as a way of self-realisation and thus ultimately as a means that directly contributes to personal pleasure. For Epicurus, such a view of politics is unconvincing and naive. A careful calculus of pleasure and pain quickly shows that the disadvantages of political engagement far outbalance its advantages. Cicero refers to the wellknown argument from the labores required by a political career at the beginning of his Republic (1,4) and Lucretius makes the same point in the famous proem of book 2, where he regards politics as one arduous and uninterrupted struggle for pre-eminence (2,11-13; cf. also 3,996-997; 5,1124 and 1132). Moreover, politics is dominated by vain passions such as envy (cf. Lucretius, 5,1125-1128), ambition, and discord, and as such proves to be the worst enemy of friendship (Philodemus, Rhet. II, 158, fr. xix, 6 – 159, fr. xix, 22 S.). This argument of Philodemus’ was no doubt crucial for any Epicurean philosopher, given the paramount importance of friendship in Epicureanism, and at the same time was diametrically opposed to the current opinions about politics17. One may add that politics is not merely destructive for friendship but also for personal independence. Political engagement indeed implies being subject to the will of the people and trying to satisfy another’s desires rather than one’s own. This argument, which occurs lodemus, Rhet. II [PHerc. 1674], col. xxvii, 16-19 L.A.; discussion in F. Longo Auricchio – A. Tepedino Guerra (1980). 15 Who, it should be noted, is not necessarily a reliable source; cf. D. Sedley (1989), 108-109 and 117. 16 Cf. Rhet. VIII, II, 17, col. xxiii, 18-19 S.; cf. also Rhet. IV [PHerc. 1007/1673], I, 209, col. xxviiia, 13 - 210, col. xxviiia, 17 S. 17 In Roman politics, the term amicus was used in a fairly broad sense (Q. Cicero, Pet. 16; cf. Cicero, Att. 1,18,1 and Seneca, epist. 3,1). For Plutarch, too, friends have an important part to play in political life. The politician should use them as living and thinking tools in the service of his own political project; Praec. ger. reip. 807D; cf. 806F-809B and 814C-E.

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throughout the whole Epicurean tradition18, indirectly illustrates the great importance which is attached to self-sufficiency (Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 6,2,31 = fr. 476 Us.: πλουσιώτατον αὐτάρκεια πάντων; cf. also Porphyry, Marc. 28). Finally, the Epicureans time and again underlined the great dangers politicians had to undergo (see, e.g., Cicero, rep. 1,4; Lucretius, 5,1124; 2,6; 2,15; Diogenes of Oenoanda, fr. 2, II, 3-4). Political life turns out to be nothing more than an uninterrupted series of murder (Lucretius 3,70-71), cruel passions (72-73), and treason (83-86). This negative characterisation of political life should correct unjustified idealisations and unreasonable expectations based on them, by providing a sober analysis of daily political praxis and doing away with many of its deceptive façades. d) Yet objections could be raised against Epicurus’ negative judgement of politics. What about political power, for instance? This may even from an Epicurean perspective be regarded as an important advantage, as it can directly contribute to personal security and thus indirectly to pleasure as well. In that sense, political engagement could even be defended on an Epicurean basis. Epicurus’ answer to this possible objection is typical of his nuanced down-to-earth approach: Ἕνεκα τοῦ θαρρεῖν ἐξ ἀνθρώπων ἦν κατὰ φύσιν ἀρχῆς καὶ βασιλείας ἀγαθόν, ἐξ ὧν ἄν ποτε τοῦτο οἷός τ’ ᾖ παρασκευάζεσθαι. (RS 6) “In order to get confidence from other men, there was the natural good of public office and kingship, from which one is sometimes able to reach that end.” Epicurus thus agrees that the pursuit of political power can be approved if it contributes to personal security. The same argument is developed more in detail by Torquatus in Cicero’s De finibus (1,34-36; cf. infra 2.2.4b). Nevertheless this is definitely not the best way to reach happiness. Epicurus’ argument should not be understood as protreptic advice but primarily as an interpretative key to the past. This interpretative key also nuances the attractiveness of the brilliant achievements of powerful political predecessors by reorienting them towards an Epicurean perspective. In that sense, the scope of RS 6 is mainly elenctic. Traditional ideals can only be praised to the extent that they can be understood as resulting from a careful calculus of pleasure and pain and thus support the Epicurean view; if not, they should be rejected if not despised. It is clear, then, that the objection will neither force the Epicurean to abandon his position nor to question the general rule 18 See, e.g., SV 67; Lucretius, 5,1133-1134; Philodemus, Rhet. I, 226, fr. ii, 8-12 S. and i, 238, col. viii, 14-17 S.; Diogenes of Oenoanda, fr. 112.


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of non-participation (cf. also Philodemus, Rhet. I, 254, col. xxi, 3 - 255, col. xxi, 10 S.). Broadly the same is true for the pursuit of honour, which can likewise be regarded as a means to reach security19 and thus pleasure (cf. Plutarch, Non posse 1099F-1100A = fr. 549 Us.). In this case too, Epicurus agrees that security can be acquired through honour, but once again, the emphasis is on the interpretation of the past rather than on paraenetic advice for the future. Moreover, honour sometimes entails more pain than pleasure (Cicero, Tusc. 5,103 = fr. 586 Us.) and in any case is unable to cure disturbance of the soul (SV 81). Lucretius tries to nuance the importance of honour even more by connecting, in the much-discussed proem of book 3, avarice and ambition with fear of death20. This original argument is basically in line with RS 7, although it puts the tenet in a somewhat different light by showing that the pursuit of honour has, in the end, nothing to do with a rational calculus but rather rests upon an irrational and unjustified fear. Additional arguments can finally be found in Philodemus. In his view, ambition has both pragmatic and philosophical disadvantages. It often makes people envious (Rhet. II, 154, fr. xii, 5-15 S.), thus damaging one’s security rather than contributing to it, and no less often interferes with one’s personal moral improvement (De lib. dic. col. xviiib, 1-3; xxiib, 10-13; cf. also col. xviib, 6-13; xxiia, 10-11; xxiiib, 12 – xxivb, 12). It is clear, then, that the Epicureans basically approached honour with the same scepticism as political power: as a rule, neither contributes anything at all to true happiness. e) Yet it should be added that there may occasionally be found a more positive evaluation of politics in the Epicurean tradition. Philodemus notably strikes a somewhat different note by granting to politics its own autonomy. Political life has its own domain with its own characteristic activities, and also requires its own qualifications, that is, training (Rhet. III, col. viia, 23-30 Ham.) and experience in political affairs21. In order to be politically successful, then, one should not have read Plato’s Timaeus or Aristotle’s Metaphysics, but be thoroughly familiar with the different phases of political decision-making, similar precedents, and relevant jurisprudence. 19 See esp. RS 7; cf. Cicero, fin. 1,34-35 and 52-53; Philodemus, De adul. [PHerc. 222], col. iv, 4-7 Garg. According to M. Erler (1992a), 195-198, and (1992b), 315-317, the last passage is influenced by the Roman ideal of gloria, but in my view, the passage is basically in line with RS 7. 20 J. Perret (1940) argues that Lucretius’ position is rooted in contemporary political circumstances; see, however, A. Desmouliez (1958) and W. Schmid (1978), 140-151. P. H. Schrijvers (1970), 288-290 connects the argument to the importance of imagination in Epicurus’ thinking. 21 Rhet. II [PHerc. 1674], col. xxxvi, 7-23 L.A. and II [PHerc. 1672], col. xxi, 36 col. xxii, 5 L.A.; cf. also II [PHerc. 1674], col. xx, 20 - col. xxi, 11 L.A.; VIII, I, 284, col. iii, 2-13 S.

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Although this might seem an evident position to us, one should not underestimate its philosophical importance. First of all, one should note that ancient philosophers usually did not think along these lines. Both Plato and the Stoics, for instance, were convinced that politics most of all required philosophical understanding. Secondly, Philodemus’ view enables him to discuss politics in a sober and unbiased way. He can evaluate politics on its own standards, without having to start from philosophical aprioris. That this position entails many advantages appears from Philodemus’ polemic against the Stoic Diogenes of Babylon. The latter defends the typically Stoic tenets that the only successful politician is the philosopher (Rhet. II, 226, col. xxi, 15-19 S. = SVF 3, Diog. 125), that only the Stoa produces good citizens (II, 227, col. xxi, 28-30 S.), and that all other politicians are radically bad22. It is clear that Diogenes’ view is strongly conditioned by several basic presuppositions of Stoic philosophy23. In his reply, Philodemus strongly underlines the autonomy of politics. This enables him to approach political history in a more positive and far less prejudiced way. He even claims that history will bear him out (II, 209, col. vi, 28-30 S.). This more positive view of politics does not imply, however, that Philodemus was inclined to recommend political engagement to the Epicurean philosopher. From a philosophical point of view, he fully endorsed the advice of λάθε βιώσας24. Yet he refrained from easy generalisations or apodictic aprioris, and one may presume that his nuanced and unbiased analysis of political life added to his credibility among politicians and fellow Epicureans alike. 1.2.1.2. Epicurus was no less critical of politicians than of politics and, once again, his elenctic criticism was presumably at odds with standard convictions. It is likely indeed that most of Epicurus’ contemporaries regarded the career of famous statesmen or legislators as the classic example of a successful and happy life25. a) Such a view is unconvincing in an Epicurean perspective. Epicurus himself vehemently criticised Epameinondas (Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1127AB 22 Philodemus, Rhet. II, 208, col. vi, 9-16 S. (= SVF 3, Diog. 115); II, 224, col. xviii, 29-32 S. (= SVF 3, Diog. 124); II, 225, col. xix, 30-31 S.; II, 225, col. xx, 15-18 S. 23 That is, the radical dichotomy between good and bad, which implies that anyone who is not yet perfect is utterly bad; cf. O. Luschnat (1958) and G. Roskam (2005a). See on Diogenes’ position also D. Obbink – P.A. Vander Waerdt (1991). 24 See, e.g., Rhet. VIII, II, 35, col. xxxviii, 8-12 S.; De Epic. [PHerc. 1232], col. xxviii, 12-15 T.G.; cf. Rhet. I, 234, col. iv, 17-19 S; II, 298, fr. iii S.; De lib. dic. col. ib, 5-6; Rhet., PHerc. 463, fr. 13 (published by F. Longo Auricchio (1982), 73; see also Ead. (2004), 37-39). 25 Cf. K.J. Dover (1974), 226-234 and L.B. Carter (1986), 1-25, on political offices and public honours as components of the popular traditional morality.


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= fr. 560 Us.) and probably also Miltiades and Themistocles (Cicero, rep. 1,5 and Plutarch, Non posse 1097C = fr. 559 Us.), whereas Diogenes of Oenoanda attacked Alexander the Great (fr. 51, i, 5-12 and NF 131, 9-11). According to the Epicurean view, none of these famous politicians knew how to apply the rational calculus of pleasure and pain. They lost their independence, spared no pains in trying to satisfy their unnecessary desires, and continuously postponed pleasure in their attempt to gain time26. In a famous digression in book 3, Lucretius compares the politician to Sisyphus. In assuming the efforts of a political career, he has to roll his own rock up the hill and cannot but observe how it almost inevitably rolls down again (3,995-1002)27. This allegory obviously excludes the possibility that the politician attains his political goal. Even if he for a moment reaches the top (1001: summo vertice), the fruit of all his efforts (999: durum laborem) immediately comes to nothing. Lucretius’ position can be explained partly by the demands of the myth, partly by the contemporary political situation in Rome28, and to a certain extent proves more radical than that of Epicurus, who did not exclude in principle that the politician can be successful (cf. RS 6 and 7). Yet Epicurus in general likewise remained fairly sceptical about the politician’s chances of success. Political engagement in any case remains a risky business, and history shows that politicians all too frequently met an unhappy end (cf. Cicero, rep. 1,4-6). Philodemus underlines that they were tortured and executed, often for strange and insignificant reasons29. They were slaughtered, as it were, like cattle (Rhet. I, 234, col. v, 6 - 235, col. v, 15 S.). This rhetorical comparison is particularly efficient, in that it radically unmasks unrealistic political ideals. A beginning politician may often launch ambitious projects and dream of public honour, but the actual fruits of his ambition are often much more prosaic: he is merely slaughtered like a beast – an eye-opening conclusion, to say the least. b) Such arguments should reduce the attractiveness of the traditional ideals. Famous statesmen of the past and the present should not be regarded as examples worthy of emulation. The same holds true for the philosophers who try to imitate them. Metrodorus, for instance, attacked in his work On J. Salem (1989), 67-70. There has been a great deal of discussion about the sources of this passage; see F. Cumont (1920) (a Neopythagorean source); P. Boyancé (1963), 179-181 (the Stoicising Academy in the tradition of Antiochus of Ascalon); B.P. Wallach (1976), 90 (a combination of a technique used by the diatribe with Epicurean themes). However that may be, Lucretius’ allegory in any case does not run counter to the orthodox Epicurean position. 28 Cf. D. West (1969), 102. 29 Rhet. I, 234, col. iv, 8-15 S.; II, 147, fr. iv, 4-17 S. and II, 151, fr. viii, 16-23 S.; cf. De morte col. xxxv, 1-5. 26 27

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philosophy certain sages (τῶν σοφῶν τινες)30 who tried to imitate Lycurgus and Solon in their discourses on lives and on virtue (Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1127B = fr. 31 K.). In Metrodorus’ view, these philosophers gave evidence of great vanity (δαψίλεια τύφου). Their authority, then, is not undermined on intellectual but on moral grounds. Even a philosopher like Socrates, who never actively engaged in politics but nonetheless participated in his own way in public life (cf. Xenophon, Mem. 1,1,10: ἀεὶ μὲν ἦν ἐν τῷ φανερῷ; cf. also Dio of Prusa, 54,3), should not be imitated. He, too, experienced the disadvantages of a political career and was in the end executed (Philodemus, De piet. col. 59,2-18). Neither politicians nor public-spirited philosophers qualify as examples worthy of imitation. If one needs such examples, one can primarily find them in the Epicurean tradition: Epicurus himself, the other scholarchs, and different members of the community. c) It is important to add, though, that Epicurus avoided rash generalisations in his criticism of politicians as well. Once again his position proves to be more nuanced. Ancient legislators are highly esteemed in Epicurean philosophy, since they have greatly benefited their community31, and politicians can also be praised if their actions were motivated by a rational calculus of pleasure and pain (cf. Cicero, fin. 1,34-36). On this point too, Epicurus’ view rests on a careful evaluation of separate cases rather than on abstract aprioris. An even more positive tone is to be found in Philodemus’ Rhetoric. By granting to politics its own autonomy (cf. supra, 1.2.1.1e), he can judge the politician on the latter’s own standards. Consequently, whereas Diogenes of Babylon tries to demonstrate that nearly all politicians are bad, Philodemus argues that there are many examples of politicians who gave excellent advice and were of great benefit to their cities (Rhet. II, 209, col. vi, 19-28 S. and II, 224, col. xix, 9-20 S.). Philodemus finds no difficulty in appreciating the politicians’ contributions to the public interest. His apolitical philosophy does not force him to brush aside all of the positive aspects of the politician’s achievements. On the other hand, Philodemus’ acknowledgement of these 30 E. Bignone (1973), II, 56-58 and R. Westman (1955), 214 identify Metrodorus’ opponents as Plato and his followers; B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (1967), 310, note e as Diogenes the Cynic, and A. Angeli (1993), 23 and M. Erler (1994b), 219-220 as Diogenes and Zeno of Citium. One might also think of the Peripatetics (cf. Philodemus, Rhet. ii, 276, fr. x, 25-29 S.), although it is equally possible that Metrodorus did not direct his attack at one specific (school of) philosopher(s). 31 Cf. Colotes’ position in Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1124D, and Hermarchus’ conviction in Porphyry, Abst. 1,8,2 and 1,10,2 (= Hermarchus, fr. 34 L.A.); see also Lucretius, 5,1106-1107 and 1143-1160, and R. Westman (1955), 214 on the above mentioned passage from Metrodorus’ On philosophy.


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positive aspects need not imply that he regards the politician as an example worthy of imitation. In his view, too, the paragon for the philosopher remains Epicurus rather than Pericles. 1.2.1.3. The complement of the traditional ideal of a great reputation during life is that of an honourable death and posthumous fame. A brilliant political career should culminate in a conspicuous death. When Hector is staring death in the face, he expresses the wish not to die ingloriously (ἀκλειῶς) but, rather, after having accomplished some great deed that will remain famous among future generations (Homer, Il. 22,304-305). This ideal of a heroic death remained attractive for centuries and Plutarch still claims that it would, in principle, be pursued by everyone (Non posse 1099AB). Epicurus came to a radically different conclusion, however. His elenctic arguments against political engagement remain true for the last hours of one’s life and then even become especially important. At this moment, there can be no room for ambitious projects that entail arduous efforts without leading to personal pleasure. The fact that there will be no afterlife once one has dissolved into atoms (RS 2 = SV 2) makes it indeed more urgently necessary to enjoy the pleasures of life during one’s last hours. A similar conclusion can be found in the extant part of the fourth book of Philodemus’ De morte. The elenctic function of Philodemus’ argument appears throughout the whole book, where erroneous opinions regarding death and dying are introduced and rejected one after the other. As regards the traditional ideal of a heroic, conspicuous death, Philodemus provides different arguments in order to cast doubt on its attractiveness. First of all, he refers to the Epicurean doctrine of ἀναισθησία, one of the Leitmotive throughout the whole book: after death, we are no longer able to notice our posthumous fame (col. xxviii, 5-14 and 32-36). Secondly, this insight directly implies a new criterion to judge the way of dying. This criterion should not be the heroic or ordinary character of the cause of death, but the degree of pain it entails before death (col. xxviii, 14-32). Furthermore, few people actually meet a heroic death (col. xxviii, 36 – col. xxix, 2) nor is such a heroic death a necessary condition for posthumous fame: Themistocles and Pericles both died in bed (as did Epicurus and Metrodorus) but became famous nevertheless, whereas countless soldiers who bravely died in battle remained unknown (col. xxix, 2-15). Philodemus’ argument thus provides a cure for the irrational fear of death and the empty desires for posthumous fame that this fear entails. At the same time, it clears the way for a more sober and rational view, which enables one to really enjoy the pleasures of life. 1.2.1.4. In conclusion, Epicurus and his followers try to show that the traditional ideals make people seriously ill. Their disease prevents them from being happy and urges them on to seek happiness where it cannot be found.

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A great number of elenctic arguments have to convince people of their bad condition and of the truth of Epicurus’ diagnosis. When this ἔλεγχος has laid bare the need for a cure, the process of recovery can really start32. At the same time, Epicurus’ elenctic arguments already contain the seeds of his own positive alternative. This alternative is developed more in detail in the pole of νουθέτησις. 1.2.2. νουθέτησις Epicurus’ philosophy of Seelenheilung was not merely negative but also provided much positive advice about the way to reach happiness. The maxim λάθε βιώσας, and its complement λάθε ἀποβιώσας, belong to this positive pole of νουθέτησις, clarifying as they do an important aspect of Epicurus’ own ideal which has to do away with the misery caused by widespread and traditional convictions. a) First of all, one has to abandon empty ideals such as τὸ καλόν, in order to focus on oneself and one’s real needs. This implies a self-imposed limitation of one’s desires33. Attention should primarily be given to desires that are both natural and necessary, and since such desires are also easy to satisfy, most of one’s troubles will immediately belong to the past. Ambitious political projects are no longer necessary to fulfil vain desires: the Epicurean can quietly enjoy his pleasures in the undisturbed peace of his private life. b) Moreover, an ‘unnoticed life’ will contribute much to one’s personal security. It is true that such security can occasionally also be gained through political power (RS 6) or honour (RS 7), but Epicurus makes it perfectly clear that he regards the choice for a sequestered life as a far better alternative: Τῆς ἀσφαλείας τῆς ἐξ ἀνθρώπων γενομένης μέχρι τινὸς δυνάμει τε ἐξερειστικῇ καὶ εὐπορίᾳ εἰλικρινεστάτη γίνεται ἡ ἐκ τῆς ἡσυχίας καὶ ἐκχωρήσεως τῶν πολλῶν ἀσφάλεια. (RS 14) “Even though security from other people comes to a certain extent by means of the power to repel [attacks] and by means of prosperity, the purest security is that which comes from a quiet life and withdrawal from the many.” (transl. B. Inwood – L.P. Gerson, strongly modified) The Epicurean ideal of ἡσυχία and ἐκχώρησις τῶν πολλῶν is thus presented as Cf. Seneca, epist. 28,9 = fr. 522 Us.: initium est salutis notitia peccati. For the importance of limitation in Epicurean philosophy, see Ph. De Lacy (1969) and J. Salem (1989), 83-99. 32 33


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the adequate road to the purest security. This idea is often repeated throughout the Epicurean tradition. Philodemus, for instance, argues that a philosopher avoids the hatred of other people by living in rest, justice, and tried friendship (Rhet. II, 162, fr. xxvii, 7-14 S.). A sequestered life helps both in avoiding a trial, as is illustrated by Epicurus’ own life (De piet. col. 53,4 – col. 54,27), and in defending oneself in court (Rhet. II, 140, fr. xi, 12-15 S.). Moreover, by living an ‘unnoticed life’ one is able to avoid βλάβαι ἐξ ἀνθρώπων. Such harm is usually caused by envy, hatred, or contempt34, and is often suffered by politicians and by all who enter into public life. The best way to avoid such βλάβαι consists in taking care not to offend. This is a constant refrain in Epicurean authors. Epicurus himself already argued that the sage should work towards a good reputation, though only insofar as not to be contemned (Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 573 Us.). He recommended Idomeneus to take into account the customs and opinions of other people if opposing them would entail harm35, and advised to make akin to oneself the things that one can, while in any case avoiding making the rest alien to oneself (RS 39). Metrodorus advocates a similar message in more metaphorical language: ἐν πόλει μήτε ὡς λέων ἀναστρέφου μήτε ὡς κώνωψ· τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἐκπατεῖται, τὸ δὲ καιροφυλακεῖται. (Stobaeus, 4,4,26 = fr. 60 K.) “Do not behave in the city as a lion, nor as a gnat. For men avoid the one, and lie in wait for an opportunity against the other.” The lion and the gnat both in their own way offend, the former by his arrogance, the latter by uninterruptedly bothering everybody. Neither will succeed in adding to their security by winning over other people. On the contrary, the one is avoided, the other destroyed. Accordingly, they cannot serve as examples worthy of imitation. This argument most interestingly shows that Epicurus’ well-known provocative tenets36 are counterbalanced by a certain caution and a leaning toward conformism. The same tendency can be found in Philodemus. In his De oeconomia, he underlines more than once that the way one acquires money should be with respect for social decorum. A landowner can earn his income while having 34 Cf. Diog. Laert. 10,117 = fr. 536 Us.; cf. also Cicero, fin. 1,67; Seneca, epist. 14,10 and 105,1-4. 35 Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1127D, with the interpretation of R. Westman (1955), 189192. 36 Such as ἀρχὴ καὶ ῥίζα παντὸς ἀγαθοῦ ἡ τῆς γαστρὸς ἡδονή (Athenaeus, 7, 280a and 12, 546f = fr. 409 Us.; see T. Gargiulo (1982) for a good discussion) or προσπτύω τῷ καλῷ καὶ τοῖς κενῶς αὐτὸ θαυμάζουσιν, ὅταν μηδεμίαν ἡδονὴν ποιῇ (Athenaeus, 12, 547a = fr. 512 Us.).

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the work done by others. This alternative does not merely enable one to enjoy all the pleasures of a sequestered life among friends but also implies an income that is highly respectable among temperate people (παρὰ τοῖς σώφροσιν εὐσχημονεστάτην πρόσοδον; col. xxiii, 9-18). Another respectable (οὐκ ἄσχημον) way to earn one’s income is to acquire it through a tenement or through slaves or persons exercising reputable arts (τέχνας [...] μηδαμῶς ἀπρεπεῖς; col. xxiii, 18-22). This illustrates the same concern to avoid unseemly behaviour. One may add, moreover, that Philodemus’ nuanced view of politics and politicians may at least partly be explained by his concern to avoid offending the aristocratic circles he frequented. Diogenes of Oenoanda, finally, may have been motivated by the same concern to erect his Epicurean inscription. Without a doubt, he belonged to the rich upper-class of his society. Therefore, a refusal to engage in politics and spend his money for the public interest, albeit motivated by rational Epicurean arguments, could have made him quite unpopular in his relatively small hometown. It cannot be excluded that such considerations may have influenced his decision to benefit his city in a way that was both in line with his own philosophical convictions and satisfied his fellow citizens. c) There are still other advantages which an ‘unnoticed life’ yields to the Epicurean. It contributes to his independence and self-sufficiency and enables him to enjoy the pleasures of his quiet life among friends and neighbours37. In such a context, all conditions for tranquillity of mind are fulfilled. One may recall Lucretius’ famous image of the sage who looks down from his edita templa, which are bene munita, on the multitude of unhappy fools (2,7-10). Such images give the Epicurean message a strongly protreptic component, depicting the pleasures of the Epicurean way of life in all their attractiveness. No less protreptic is the example of Epicurus himself. In one of his letters, he claimed that Metrodorus and he himself were so happy that they were not harmed by remaining unknown in Greece (Seneca, epist. 79,15 = fr. 188 Us. and Metrodorus, test. 23 K.). Epicurus thus introduces himself, together with Metrodorus, as a concrete example that can be imitated by everyone38. They have consistently lived according to their own philosophy and demonstrated that their ideal can indeed be realised and leads to happiness. Centuries later, Diogenes of Oenoanda makes essentially the same claim by underlining that the medicines which he offers have been put to the test (fr. 3, VI, 2-4).

The orientation towards neighbours (RS 40: ὁμορούντων, and SV 67: τοῦ πλησίον) illustrates the typically Epicurean preference for a confined circle of acquaintances. 38 On the importance of imitation and emulation in the Garden, see D. Clay (1983b), 264-270. 37


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d) One of Epicurus’ elenctic strategies consists in demonstrating that the widespread traditional ideals were often at odds with what they themselves regarded as important, that is, the public interest (cf. supra, 1.2.1.1a). This strategy also has its complement in Epicurus’ νουθέτησις, namely, the argument that Epicurus’ philosophy in its own way leads to the realisation of traditional ideals. Different Epicureans indeed argued explicitly or indirectly that their philosophy could contribute to the public interest. They are neither subversive nor anarchistic, but rather teach the young to always obey the laws (Philodemus, Rhet. II, 155, fr. xiii, 9-19 S.). Lucretius explicitly promotes parere quietum as his ideal (5,1129-1130). Colotes even argued that conformity to the doctrines of other philosophers actually makes life impossible and at the end of his work applied this thesis also to the domain of politics (Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1124D). The implication of his work, dedicated most likely to Ptolemy II 39, is that only the Epicurean philosopher respects and guarantees social and political order. According to Philodemus, the Epicurean philosopher also has a part to play as adviser to the politician. For it will be advantageous to the city that its politicians are virtuous (Rhet. III, col. xiva, 30 – col. xva, 16 Ham.), and in order to reach virtue, these politicians should turn to the philosopher (col. xva, 16-21 Ham.), who should give them general and more specific moral advice suitable for political administration (col. xva, 22-31 Ham.). Philodemus’ treatise De bono rege in this respect perfectly illustrates the kind of advice Philodemus has in mind. One should note that this argument need not run counter to the autonomy of politics. The philosopher in principle has to respect the politician’s autonomy, but may give inspiring advice that can contribute both to the politician’s project and to the social stability needed by the philosopher to reach tranquillity of mind. All of these arguments show that the Epicurean position can also be useful for the state. Such a conclusion is only of secondary importance in an Epicurean perspective, to be sure. The orthodox Epicurean is primarily concerned with his own happiness, rather than with the well-being of the state. It may win these persons over, however, who attach great importance to the social perspective (and, one may add, it also provides a reply to the polemical attacks on the parasitic character of Epicurus’ philosophy). e) Moreover, Epicurus did not refrain from offering more specific and practical instruction. He, for instance, advised Idomeneus regarding how to leave public life (cf. Seneca, epist. 22,5-6 = fr. 133 Us.). His advice gives evidence of his sober sense of realism, which once again avoids rash conclusions. Philosophical aprioris about the need to abandon the political scene as quickly as possible (ut quantum potest fugiat et properet) are adapted in a meaningful way to the concrete circumstances: Idomeneus should only take W. Crönert (1906), 13 and R. Westman (1955), 41.

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action at the καιρός, when his attempt is likely to be successful (cum apte poterit tempestiveque temptari). A similar concern for the feasibility of the Epicurean ideal in concrete practice can be found in Philodemus’ De oeconomia. In this work, the theoretical arguments in support of a sequestered life are completed by more concrete advice regarding the financial implications of such an ideal. This more practically-oriented component of the Epicurean νουθέτησις not only adds to the credibility and feasibility of the Epicurean way of life, but also illustrates that the concrete needs and questions of members and prospective members of the Garden were taken seriously by their leading figures. f) Finally, the theme of an unnoticed death as the consistent consequence of an unnoticed life probably also received attention in Epicurean νουθέτησις. About this positive advice of λάθε ἀποβιώσας we have only little information, however, since the extant part of Philodemus’ De morte, as has been said, mainly deals with the negative, elenctic aspect. Only occasionally does Philodemus refer to the ideal of a quiet death among friends (col. xxviii, 28-29; cf. also col. xxvii, 1-8). But the correct attitude towards death and dying was probably also illustrated by more concrete examples. Metrodorus showed the right way to die (Diog. Laert. 10,23 = test. 1 K.), Philistas the correct way to watch over a friend’s deathbed (Carneiscus, col. xxi, 7-9 C.). Above all, the right way to die can be inferred from Epicurus’ famous last letter, which shows that the master was until the very last moment, and even while suffering excruciating pain, focusing on his pleasure and on the means to reach that end. Few would doubt that this example had even more persuasive force than the pithy rhetoric of the maxim λάθε ἀποβιώσας. 1.3. Three further characteristics of Epicurus’ psychagogical approach Epicurus’ ideal of an ‘unnoticed life’ is thus based on a whole series of interrelated theoretical arguments. These arguments both reveal the need to be cured and to contribute to the actual cure itself. They are not the only means to reach the psychotherapeutic goal, however. Their efficiency is enhanced by several other elements. 1.3.1. The powers of rhetoric. In spite of the orthodox Epicurean tenet that the sage will not make beautiful speeches (οὐ ῥητορεύσειν καλῶς; Diog. Laert. 10,118 = fr. 565 Us.), Epicurus was not blind to the powers of rhetoric. The formulation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας already forms a striking illustration of the importance of the rhetorical component in Epicurean Seelenheilung. Its extreme conciseness strikes the mind40 and not only makes it far easier to memorise but also focuses all attention on what is really essential. All super Cf. Seneca, epist. 94,27-28 and 43; I. Hadot (1969), 16-17.

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fluous information is omitted and the two remaining terms accurately denote the precise meaning and scope of the advice. The emphasis is on λάθε, but hardly less on βιώσας: it is not just a specific behaviour or action but a whole life that is concerned. One may note in passing that probably as a result of this rhetorical effect the motif later became part of a literary tradition. In Horace, the motif of the ‘unnoticed life’ twice occurs in a context that can still be connected with Epicurean philosophy (epist. 1,17,10 and 1,18,103). In Ovid (trist. 3,4a,25) and Philostratus (VA 8,28), the link with Epicureanism has already disappeared, and in Neoplatonism, the ideal is ascribed to a Pythagorean or gnomic tradition41. It should be noted that Epicurus’ attention to the advantages of a rhetorical phrasing is no less obvious in his ἔλεγχος than in his νουθέτησις. A case in point is SV 58: ’Εκλυτέον ἑαυτοὺς ἐκ τοῦ περὶ τὰ ἐγκύκλια καὶ πολιτικὰ δεσμωτηρίου. “They must free themselves from the prison of daily duties and politics.” The imagery of the term δεσμωτήριον summarises in a beautiful and adequate way a whole series of elenctic arguments about political engagement, recalling as it does the politician’s lack of self-sufficiency and independence with all the pains and efforts it entails, and his dependence on the future42. It thus expresses in a concise way the core of Epicurus’ argument. It is not unlikely that for this reason it was inserted into the collection of Sententiae Vaticanae. Similarly, the above-mentioned image of the lion and the gnat in Metrodorus’ work provides a beautiful concretisation of Epicurus’ more abstract RS 39, and as such has important pedagogical advantages. One may add that striking passages from traditional literature were often quoted and re-interpreted in the light of the Epicurean ideal43. Lucretius even used poetry as a therapeutic means, comparing the elegance of his verses to honey on the rim of a cup full of bitter wormwood (1,935-950). 1.3.2. Radicalising frankness. The importance of frankness in the process of Seelenheilung primarily appears from Philodemus’ Περὶ παρρησίας, but is not absent from Epicurus either (SV 29). This is again illustrated by the maxim λάθε βιώσας, which runs counter to widespread convictions and even turns See Marinus, Procl. 15.29-32; Suda III, 228.4-7 and IV, 324.3-6 Adler; Macarius 5,47 (CPG II,183). 42 Cf. also D. Puliga (1983), 257, on the maxim λάθε βιώσας as an attempt to avoid the tyranny of time. 43 See M. Erler (1997) and (2006) on Epicurean interpretatio medicans. 41

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them upside down. It is not the criminal who should hide himself but the sage, and this hiding does not concern one specific action but one’s whole life. A similar radicalisation can be found in Metrodorus’ notorious statement that we should not save the Greeks but merely eat and drink, and gratify the belly without harming it (Plutarch, Non posse 1098CD and 1100D; Adv. Colot. 1125D = fr. 41 K.). Sedley suggests that these radical words are merely the product of a polemical misrepresentation by Timocrates44, but in my view they should rather be regarded as a verbatim quotation and understood in a pedagogical and psychagogical context. They are an adequate, albeit radical, expression of the essence of Epicurus’ message and form a remarkable illustration of Metrodorus’ famous frankness in a psychotherapeutic context (cf. Philodemus, De lib. dic. fr. 15,6-10 and col. vb, 1-6). The same tendency towards radicalisation occurs in Lucretius as well. We already saw that he compared the politician to Sisyphus and came to the conclusion that he could never reach his goal (3,998 and 1001-1002). In book 5, he emphasises even more strongly that ambitious political projects are of no more avail in the present than in the future or in the past (5,1135: nec magis id nunc est neque erit mox quam fuit ante). One should note that Lucretius shows himself in this more radical than Epicurus45, who as a rule avoided such absolute and apodictic statements. 1.3.3. Personal approach. In the context of Seelenheilung, Epicurus preferred face-to-face conversation to a more numerous audience (cf. Seneca, epist. 7,11 = fr. 208 Us.)46, and his followers adopted the same view. Diogenes of Oenoanda, for instance, addresses all passers-by, even all Greeks and barbarians (fr. 32, II, 11-12) and future generations (fr. 3, IV, 13 – v, 4), but he makes it clear that this is only a δεύτερος πλοῦς, caused by the general illness of the great majority of people. If only a limited number of persons suffered from that disease, he would have addressed them individually and cured them one by one (fr. 3, III, 5 – IV, 3). That the maxim λάθε βιώσας was also directed to one person, perhaps in the broader context of Seelenheilung, clearly appears from the aorist imperative λάθε47. This does not imply of course that other people could not (1976), 132. Cf. D.N. Sedley (1998), esp. 62-93, on Lucretius as a ‘fundamentalist’; contra C. Lévy (1999). 46 Cf. also M. Nussbaum (1986), 41-43. 47 Pace C.J. Ruijgh (2000), who tries to explain the aorist imperative by means of the view of the ancient grammarians: “D’après l’analyse des grammairiens grecs, l’expression λάθε βιώσας vise au moment futur où l’on pourrait constater qu’un homme ἔλαθε βιώσας ‘a vécu en cachette’” (p. 327). It is much easier, however, to suppose that the maxim should be traced back to one of Epicurus’ letters (and was thus directed to only one person, that 44 45


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follow the same advice. Epicurus’ letters address both individual persons and the broader public of fellow Epicureans (καὶ κοινῇ καὶ ἰδίᾳ; fr. [59] 2Arr.; cf. Epist. ad Her. 37 and Epist. ad Pyth. 85). Yet the original context of the maxim may well have been one of personal, private advice. Such a personal approach has two important consequences. First, Epicurus’ moral advice can never be generalised in an absolute way. It can in all likelihood be applied to the great majority of people, but there may always be exceptions to the general rule (cf. infra, 1.4). Second, Epicurus often takes into account the personal convictions of his addressee and the concrete situation in which the latter finds himself48. If possible, he even tries to adopt these convictions after reorienting them towards his own Epicurean perspective. This appears from another interesting fragment from a letter to Idomeneus: Si gloria tangeris, notiorem te epistulae meae facient quam omnia ista, quae colis et propter quae coleris. (Seneca, epist. 21,3 = fr. 132 Us.) “If you are attracted by fame, my letters will make you more renowned than all the things which you cherish and which make you cherished.” (transl. R.M. Gummere) From the Epicurean point of view, the pursuit of fame should be regarded as an unnatural and unnecessary desire, which usually entails much more pain than pleasure. On the other hand, Epicurus may have realised that fame was not unimportant to Idomeneus and that his addressee was not yet free from his empty desire. For that reason, he does not abruptly reject all striving for fame but rather prefers to neutralise its possible disadvantages by introducing it into his own perspective. A somewhat similar argument can be found in Metrodorus, who guarantees that all future Epicureans can be sure of a magnum paratumque nomen (Seneca, epist. 79,16 = fr. 43 K.). Again, traditional – and erroneous – ideals are thus used as a protreptic argument in support of the Epicurean perspective. An echo of the same approach can finally be found in Plutarch’s characterisation of Epicurus and his followers as those who say that the crown of an untroubled condition is incomparable to great leadership (τὸν τῆς ἀταραξίας στέφανον ἀσύμβλητον εἶναι ταῖς μεγάλαις ἡγεμονίαις; Adv. Colot. 1125C = fr. 556 Us.). As a general rule, the pursuit of crowns should once again be regarded as an unnecessary desire. It may be approved, however, if is, the addressee); cf. H. Usener (1881), lxiii-lxiv and 326; cf. also H. Steckel (1968), 592. 48 One may recall his above-mentioned advice to Idomeneus on the question of how to abandon political life, which takes into account the latter’s situation as a politician (supra, 1.2.2e).

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it concerns a special crown, that is, the one of Epicurean tranquillity of mind49. In this case too, Epicurus takes as his point of departure widespread ideals which have a great attraction for his addressee, in order to neutralise them and reorient them towards his own philosophical perspective. It is clear that such an approach may yield interesting pedagogical advantages and moreover gives evidence of a certain respect for the patient under therapy. 1.4. Qualifications and restrictions: φρόνησις at work 1.4.1. There can be little doubt about the paramount importance of philosophy in Epicurean Seelenheilung. It offers the systematic and efficient cure that is necessary for tranquillity of mind and as such is the necessary condition par excellence for happiness. It is quite remarkable, then, that Epicurus nevertheless argues that there is yet something more precious than philosophy, that is, φρόνησις (Epist. ad Men. 132). In the end, decisions about one’s concrete course of life should not be based on philosophical theoretical arguments but on sober analysis of reality and sound judgement of the present situation. This position is the consequence of Epicurus’ fundamental choice of pleasure as the final goal. Maximisation of pleasure should then be pursued by means of a rational calculus, which precisely is the task of φρόνησις. This results in what I would call a philosophy of qualifying. Epicurus usually avoids absolute and apodictic generalisations and takes care to qualify his arguments. General rules are completed by provisos50 or contain in themselves qualifying terms51. The great number of similar qualifications in Epicurus’ works illustrates the paramount importance of φρόνησις. Philosophy offers broader advice which can provide general orientation, but it will in the end be φρόνησις which has to determine whether or not the general rule is valid for the concrete circumstances of the moment. The decisive factor thus always remains the rational judgement of the specific situation at hand. 1.4.2. As a direct result, Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy never loses sight of the contemporary political circumstances and the advice of λάθε βιώσας itself Or that of poetry; cf. Lucretius, 6,95 (and 1,117-119 on Ennius). For instance SV 21 (we should satisfy our necessary and natural desires if they bring no harm: ἂν μὴ βλάπτωσι) or SV 51 (one may indulge in sexual intercourse if one does not break the laws or good customs nor cause pain to one’s neighbour nor wear out one’s body nor waste what is necessary for livelihood). 51 For instance Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1125C = fr. 554 Us. (λέγειν δεῖ πῶς ἄριστα τὸ τῆς φύσεως τέλος συντηρήσει καὶ πῶς τις ἑκὼν εἶναι μὴ πρόσεισιν ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἐπὶ τὰς τῶν πληθῶν ἀρχάς); Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 564 Us. (ἀναγνώσεσθαι ἐν πλήθει, ἀλλ’ οὐχ ἑκόντα); ibid. = fr. 590 Us. (ὑπὲρ φίλου ποτὲ τεθνήξεσθαι); ibid. = fr. 577 Us. (μόναρχον ἐν καιρῷ θεραπεύσειν). 49

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is closely connected with a specific historical context. It is neither a timeless truth which transcends history nor the gate to an irrational dream world52 or an idyllic Arcadia, but is based on a sober analysis and evaluation of the contemporary political situation. Epicurus usually kept track of political events53, just as Philodemus was presumably doing, and Lucretius often refers in fairly unambiguous terms to the political troubles at the end of the Roman Republic54. Later Diogenes of Oenoanda proves to be thoroughly familiar with the contemporary political system of euergetism, which he cleverly reorients towards his own Epicurean perspective. The Epicureans were no otherworldly thinkers, but tried to acquire an accurate and realistic view of the day-to-day reality in order to derive as much pleasure from it as possible. This close connection with the historical situation implies that it cannot be excluded a priori that there are moments in history when the advice to ‘live unnoticed’ is no longer valid. In the primitive age, for instance, living unnoticed would have harmed one’s security, since one would have been exposed to the threat of beasts and hostile people (Porphyry, Abst. 1,10,3 = Hermarchus, fr. 34 L.A.). It is only at a later stage, when this threat had been eliminated and vain desires had arisen, that living an ‘unnoticed life’ became a meaningful ideal (cf. Lucretius, 5,1113-1135). This further implies that there can in principle also be periods in the future when the general rule should be questioned. Again, this will be the task of φρόνησις. The importance of this point will appear in due course (cf. infra, 2.2.5; cf. also 2.3.3b). 1.4.3. Attention should finally be given to the famous passage in Seneca’s De otio, where he points to Epicurus’ doctrine that in exceptional cases the Epicurean sage should engage in politics: Epicurus ait: “Non accedet ad rem publicam sapiens, nisi si quid intervenerit”. (dial. 8,3,2-3 = fr. 9 Us.; cf. also Cicero, rep. 1,10 and 1,11) “Epicurus says: ‘The wise man will not engage in public affairs unless something occurs’ ”. (transl. J.W. Basore, modified) Pace G. Castelli (1969), 20. To give but one example, he was informed about the presence of the Stoics Persaeus and Philonides at Antigonus’ court (Diog. Laert. 7,9 = fr. 119 Us.); cf. further H. Steckel (1968), 591-592 and M.L. Silvestre (1995). 54 See, e.g., 2,11-13; 3,70; 3,996-1002; D.P. Fowler (1989), 134-135 and 137-140; on the vague phrase patriai tempore iniquo, see esp. M. Erler (1994c), 400 (“In diesem Zusammenhang wird bisweilen auf das Proömium des ersten Buches (bes. I 41: patriai tempore iniquo) hingewiesen und diese Aussage mit den innenpolitischen Zuständen in Verbindung gebracht, doch ist das nur eine Hypothese”), and G.O. Hutchinson (2001), with further bibliography. 52 53

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The precise meaning of the vague phrase si quid intervenerit is far from clear. It has usually been interpreted as a reference to an extreme political emergency. The Epicurean philosopher will enter political life when the state risks to be ruined and social stability destroyed55. Sedley adds that the Epicurean can in such emergency situations also be motivated by “an overriding sense of obligation” to his non-philosophical fellow-citizens56. There are many objections that can be raised against the commonly accepted interpretation, however. A simple calculus of pleasure and pain quickly shows that it entails much less trouble to live unnoticed, even under such extreme circumstances, than to be in the eye of the political storm57. Philodemus underlines against Aristotle that one can even be happy under a bad government (Rhet. VIII, II, 51, fr. 37, 3-6 S. and II, 63, col. lvii, 11-16 S.), and argues that one should observe even laws that are arbitrarily made, or else if one is convinced that one is unable to live well under these laws, one has to leave that place (ἢ μεταβαίνειν ἐκ τῶν τόπων, ἐὰν μὴ καλῶς ζῆν οἴωνται; Rhet. I, 259, col. xxiv, 33-39 S.). Similarly, L. Piso declared that he would depart from Italy if Antony destroyed the republic (Cicero, Phil. 12,14). It is clear that this position is much more in line with the spirit of orthodox Epicureanism, and makes the traditional interpretation extremely unlikely. In order to acquire a better understanding of Epicurus’ position, one may have a quick look at the history of the Garden, and try to find out when the Epicureans indeed engaged in politics and for what reason, and when and why they rather preferred to stick to their sequestered life. One may presume of course that when they stayed in their Garden, they merely adopted the orthodox arguments. A case in point is Statilius, who refused to get into trouble for the sake of fools (Plutarch, Brut. 12,3). Occasionally, however, their decision to stay away from politics is problematic, even from an Epicurean perspective. The most interesting example is their absence from the famous embassy of philosophers that the Athenians sent to Rome in 155 B.C. This absence can of course be explained as a consistent application of the general Epicurean doctrine of μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι, but in such circumstances, φρόνησις should also play its part. By refraining from delegating a member of their school to the embassy, the Epicureans made it perfectly clear that they were the only important philosophical school that did not benefit its country on this particular matter. In that way, they could risk incurring the people’s hatred or bringing themselves into contempt, which would directly harm their personal security and even that of the Garden. Accordingly, it is far from unlikely that Epicurus would have regarded this opportunity as one of the specific καιροί on which he would enter into politics. Yet his followers even then apparently preferred to maintain Cf., e.g., K. Bringmann in A. Long (1986), 321-322; D.P. Fowler (1989), 127-128; M. Griffin (1989), 30 and 33; B. Besnier (2001), 148; E. Asmis (2001), 118. 56 (1997), 46-47. 57 Cf. W.J. Earle (1988), 101. 55


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their usual attitude of withdrawal. Unfortunately, the precise background of their decision is unknown. They may have concluded on the basis of a careful calculus that the matter was not worth the trouble, although it is equally possible that they were indeed prepared to participate in the embassy but were excluded by a decision of the state. More decisive information can be gathered from the particular cases in which the Epicureans did engage in politics. I know of four cases: 1. Epicurus approached the king by means of some followers (Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1126C) cause of his decision: Timocrates had slandered him at the court. 2. Metrodorus went to the Piraeus in order to help Mithres, a minister of Lysimachus who was kept in prison by Craterus (Plutarch, Non posse 1097B; Adv. Colot. 1126EF = fr. 194 Us.; Philodemus, Πραγματεῖαι, col. xxv, 1 – col. xxxiii, 19 M.). cause of his decision: willingness to help an influential politician who entertained friendly relations with the Garden 3. Patro, the successor of Phaedrus as scholarch at Athens, repeatedly asked Cicero to interfere with Memmius. The latter intended to pull down the ruins of Epicurus’ house in order to build a villa for himself there (Cicero, fam. 13,1,2-4; Att. 5,11,6). Patro’s request was supported by Atticus (fam. 13,1,5). cause of his decision: the traditional view of the Garden in danger and Memmius’ building plans risk to cut the Epicureans off from an important way to remain in touch with their own revered past. One may add that Cicero himself mentions more in detail the different components of Patro’s argumentation (fam. 13,1,4: honorem, officium, testamentorum ius, Epicuri auctoritatem, Phaedri obtestationem, sedem, domicilium, vestigia summorum hominum sibi tuenda esse dicit). 4. Popillius Theotimus, scholarch of the Garden at Athens, turned to Pompeia Plotina with the request to be able to make his will in Greek and choose as his successor a non-Roman citizen. Plotina pleaded Theotimus’ case with Hadrian, who granted the request (IG II2 1099.1-38; the Greek part of the inscription also in SIG 834; cf. also SEG 3,226 which apparently also concerns the question of succession in the Garden). cause of his decision: Theotimus faced a situation in which only Roman citizens could be elected as scholarch. Either he had difficulties in finding

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a candidate who qualified for the position (cf. in angustum redigitur eligendi [facultas]) or the candidate he had in mind was not a Roman citizen. Several conclusions can be drawn from these four cases. First of all, in all of them, the Epicureans’ political engagement was in a sense involuntary. It was a direct consequence of particular contingencies, which could best be settled by temporary participation in politics. A sober calculus presumably showed that such participation would entail far less troubles than refusing to face the facts. Secondly, in none of these four cases do the particular contingencies driving Epicureans to political life have anything to do with the state. The emergency rather concerns the Epicurean community as a whole or one of his members. It is interesting to add in passing that in the case of the Athenian embassy of 155 B.C. the emergency did concern the state, but as has been said, the background of the Epicureans’ decision not to participate unfortunately remains unclear. When they did enter public life, however, they always did so for their own sake, not because they wished to serve the public interest. Thirdly, their way of proceeding is basically in line with their philosophy. In three cases, they enter into political life only indirectly, that is, through their pupils (case 1) or through politicians who are better qualified to solve the problem successfully (case 3 and 4)58. Only Metrodorus decided to settle the matter himself, perhaps out of gratitude for Mithres’ previous financial support59. Finally, we can presume that in all of the four cases, the Epicureans managed to deal with the situation successfully and in a way that contributed to their pleasure. Either they succeeded in realising their particular political project or they were at least able to solve the problem in a sufficiently satisfactory way. When they engaged in politics, they did not merely try to secure their pleasures, but actually succeeded in doing so. 1.5. Conclusion A good doctor knows his patients, their diseases no less than their ardent wishes for recovery. He perfectly knows how to make his diagnosis and to administer the appropriate medicines. Epicurus was a good doctor. He presented his philosophy as a systematic, coherent, and efficient Seelenheilung, which leads through ἔλεγχος and νουθέτησις to the happiness of a pleasant life. Perhaps politicians such as Idomeneus and Mithres could have helped the Epicureans in similar cases as well, but evidence is lacking. 59 See Philodemus, Πραγματεῖαι, col. xxx, 13-16 M. (= fr. 151 Us.); xxxi, 11-16 M. (= fr. 177 Us.); and xxxv inf. M. (= fr. [74] 2Arr.). 58


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His advice of λάθε βιώσας was one medicine of many. Although it no doubt contributed a great deal to recovery by clearly showing how pleasure can best be reached, it should in the end be placed back into the broader framework of a more comprehensive cure (cf. SV 81). Epicurus’ diagnosis and therapy in general, and his medicine of λάθε βιώσας in particular, were enthusiastically adopted and defended throughout the history of the Epicurean school. At the same time, however, they encountered much criticism from members of other philosophical schools. Time and again, different aspects and (supposed) implications of Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy were vehemently attacked. Plutarch’s short work De latenter vivendo is of paramount importance in this respect, since it is the only extant work from antiquity that is completely devoted to a rejection of Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας. But Plutarch’s polemical attack did not come into being ex nihilo. Several of his predecessors had already discussed the topic in various contexts and proposed different arguments against Epicurus’ apolitical position. It is their polemical views that are discussed in chapter 2.

2. The anti-Epicurean tradition before Plutarch 2.1. Timocrates 2.1.1. If Timocrates undoubtedly occupies a special place in the rich history of anti-Epicurean polemical literature, this is not because he brought forward the best arguments against the philosophy of his previous master, nor even because he was his first opponent (Eudoxus of Cnidus and his followers at Cyzicus were probably earlier). No, he holds his prominent place mainly due to two reasons. First of all, as D. Sedley has convincingly argued1, Timocrates’ criticism has exerted a strong and lasting influence on later generations. Elements that can probably be traced back to his campaign of slander indeed prove to return again and again in later anti-Epicurean polemics. There is, however, also a second reason why Timocrates occupies such an important place among the opponents of Epicurus. His criticism was particularly purposeful and aimed at the very heart of the Epicurean way of life. As will appear from the rest of this chapter, there was perhaps nobody who caused as much trouble to Epicurus as Timocrates. If this claim indeed holds true, it is worthwhile to reopen the debate on the course and content of the whole polemic. It is well-known of course that Timocrates first endorsed Epicurus’ view, and only later came into conflict with his younger brother Metrodorus, whereupon he left the school. According to Cicero (nat. deor. 1,113), the conflict focused on the Epicurean doctrine of pleasure. R. Philippson2 has tried to reach a more detailed reconstruction and discerned three main points of disagreement: [1] Timocrates denied that the good should entirely be measured by sensual pleasure, [2] he was convinced that a philosopher should practise rhetoric and engage in politics, and [3] he also adopted a heterodox position in the domain of physics. From this general philosophical position could be inferred that Timocrates was influenced by Epicurus’ own teacher Nausiphanes. However, Philippson’s hypothesis is not without problems. His detailed reconstruction almost entirely rests on the notorious fragment from a letter of Metrodorus to his brother (fr. 41 K.) concerning the need to gratify the belly rather than saving the Greeks. But this fragment in all probability dates from the period before the rift3, and should be understood against the psychotherapeutic background of Epicurean Seelenheilung. Accordingly, the passage should not be regarded as Metrodorus’ polemic against the opposite view of Timoc (1976), esp. 127-132. (1936), 1268-1269. 3 Cf. A. Angeli (1993), 14. 1 2

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The anti-Epicurean tradition before Plutarch

rates, but as a radical confirmation of the truly Epicurean perspective. Its original context was most likely protreptic, rather than polemic. The direct consequence of this interpretation is of course that the fragment as such contains no direct information about Timocrates’ own view, nor about the influence of Nausiphanes4. Epicurus’ political view is also under discussion in another fragment from a letter to Timocrates. Unfortunately, the fragment just breaks off when the topic of a withdrawal from the multitude (ὑποστολὴν λαοῦ) comes up (Philodemus, Πραγματεῖαι col. xii, 12 Sp.5). According to L. Spina6 and A. Angeli7, the fragment should be dated in the period when the relations between Timocrates and his community are gradually deteriorating, but still before the final rift. This is not impossible, although it is perhaps more likely that it goes back even earlier. Just before, indeed, Timocrates is urged to support others (col. xii, 1-9 M.), for then he would present himself as useful and benevolent (col. xii, 10-11 M.). Now it would have been quite undiplomatic to bother Timocrates with such a direct question at a moment when mutual communication began to become difficult. Both fragments, then, contain no information regarding Timocrates’ philosophical position at the moment of the conflict, nor about his motivations or about the influence of another philosophical school. The only conclusion to which they can lead is that Timocrates was acquainted with Epicurus’ main doctrines. This result is hardly impressive, to be sure: of course he did, since he was for several years a full member of the Epicurean community. Yet, this evident knowledge is extremely important for a correct understanding of Timocrates’ polemical approach. Indeed, the fact that Timocrates knew Epicurus’ doctrine first hand, even more, that he himself lived for years as an Epicurean and was thus familiar with the concrete praxis of Epicurean philosophy from the inside, thoroughly conditioned his polemic and enabled him to become such a formidable opponent of Epicurus. 2.1.2. First of all, Timocrates seems to have perverted Epicurus’ philosophical convictions in a fairly systematic way. The doctrine of λάθε βιώσας may well have played a part in this approach. Indeed, Timocrates proclaimed It is possible, of course, that Timocrates after the rift used the passage from his brother’s letter in order to suggest that he had very good philosophical reasons to disagree with the base view of the Epicureans. It does not necessarily follow, however, that Timocrates’ motivation for leaving the community at Lampsacus was indeed a strictly philosophical one. His decision might equally have had a purely emotional basis, which he later rationalised for the sake of his polemical goal. In any case, Philippson’s reconstruction then follows Timocrates’ biased presentation of what happened; at best, it could be regarded as a rationalisation of one party of the conflict. 5 One should note that the term λαοῦ, which is present in the Neapolitan apograph, is omitted in the most recent edition by C. Militello (1997), 125. 6 (1977), 71. 7 (1993), 14. 4


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that “he could only with difficulty escape from these notorious nocturnal sessions of philosophy and that notorious mystic kind of reunion” (μόγις ἐκφυγεῖν ἰσχῦσαι τὰς νυκτερινὰς ἐκείνας φιλοσοφίας καὶ τὴν μυστικὴν ἐκείνην συνδιαγωγήν; Diog. Laert. 10,6). This is quite a subtle combination of captatio benevolentiae and downright slander. For, on the one hand, Timocrates presents himself as a reliable eyewitness of even the most esoteric secrets of the Garden8. On the other hand, it is an intelligent, if malicious, appeal to common sense reflexes: “What indeed happens behind the walls of that Garden, among philosophers who claim that pleasure should be regarded as the final end of life? Would anybody conceal himself in the darkness of the night if there is nothing for which he can be blamed?” (cf. Plutarch, De cur. 516E and 518C; De lat. viv. 1129B; infra, 3.4.1). Such common sense reflexes are further stimulated by suggestive defamation concerning Epicurus’ supposed preoccupation with gastronomic (Diog. Laert. 10,6 and 7) and sexual (10,7) pleasures. In Timocrates’ presentation, then, the Epicurean sequestered life appears not as a means to counter unlimited desires but as its exact opposite. This result he easily obtains by omitting all nuances and qualifications with which he was no doubt familiar, and by replacing them with wellchosen slanderous attacks. The general ignorance of the great majority of his contemporaries and popular imagination will do the rest. Such an attack may have been worthless from a philosophical point of view, to be sure, but Timocrates probably did not bother about that, since he could be confident that his words would guarantee him much more success than he could have reached through technical and theoretical polemics. For indeed, if Timocrates perverted Epicurus’ doctrines, he did so not in order to refute him with theoretical arguments, but merely in order to prevent him from reaching happiness on the basis of his own principles. His main polemical goal probably consisted in forcing Epicurus to live against his own philosophical convictions. Accordingly, whereas Epicurus advised to lead an ‘unnoticed life’, Timocrates brought him to the notice of the multitude. In Alciphron’s words, he satirised him in the assemblies, theatres, and among other sophists (4,17,10). He even made him appear in an unfavourable light at the Royal Court (Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1126C). In short, he took care that Epicurus received (negative) attention in precisely those places which the latter wished to avoid as much as possible, thus forcing his opponent to face all the troubles which a public life entails, and this not even of his own free will (μὴ ἑκών) but merely through Timocrates’ doing. As a direct consequence of Timocrates’ attack, Epicurus’ own security was put at risk. His pursuit of the most preferred alternative, viz. ἀσφάλεια ἐξ ἡσυχίας, was considerably hindered, both because his ideal of ἡσυχία itself had become suspected and because he had caught the attention of the multitude. His convictions, and even more his person and way of life had become 8 See also D. Sedley (1976), 154, n. 47, who reads the passage as Timocrates’ “attempt to prove his credentials as an authoritative source”.

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the centre of interest, which, of course, made an unnoticed life and the security it offered difficult to pursue. The security that comes from other people (ἀσφάλεια ἐξ ἀνθρώπων) was no less menaced, and even risked being replaced by harm (βλάβαι). In Epicurus’ view, such harm results from either hatred, envy, or contempt (Diog. Laert. 10,117 = fr. 536 Us.). Now the harm which he suffered through Timocrates may be traced back to hatred. This, in any case, may be inferred from the latter’s own evaluation of his attitude towards his brother, whom he both loved and hated as no one else did (Philodemus, De lib. dic. col. xxb, 3-6). Later Epicurean sources also point to envy for his brother (De Epic. [PHerc. 1289β], col. xxvii, 2-4 T.G.). Both parties were equally biased of course, although nothing precludes that in this case both were right. Besides the βλάβαι which came directly from Timocrates, Epicurus also had to face those that came from the multitude, which perhaps resulted from contempt. In any case, due to his opponent’s slanderous attack, he received a bad reputation, which he precisely wanted to avoid so as not to be contemned (Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 573 Us.). No doubt Timocrates realised very well that in undermining Epicurus’ security and bringing him into disrepute, he could cast a dark shadow over his opponent’s happiness. Finally, even the security that came from his friends had been badly damaged and this is perhaps what troubled Epicurus most of all. For one of the reasons why he attached so much importance to friendship was precisely that he considered it a strong guarantee of help in circumstances of adversity (RS 28; SV 34 and 39). Precisely this basis of confidence and security was also questioned in the conflict with Timocrates. For it is likely that before the rift, Timocrates himself belonged to the inner circle of Epicurean friends. If that is true, his decision to leave the community directly entailed a serious crisis of confidence, since the certainty that rested on the foundation of friendship turned out to be much less unfaltering in concrete praxis than in theory. This conclusion may well have sufficed to undermine the ἀταραξία of more than one Epicurean. 2.1.3. It is clear, then, that the principal goal of Timocrates’ polemical attack against Epicurus and his community was to trouble their happiness as much as possible. In that way, Epicurus had to face surely one of the greatest challenges in the entire history of the school. How did he deal with it? One can presume that he did his utmost to prevent the definitive rift. Philodemus in any case underlines the irenic attitude which Epicurus usually adopted in such conflict situations (De Epic. [PHerc. 1289β], col. xxvi, 1-12 T.G.), and it is hard to see why the case of Timocrates would have been different. Probably other members of the community at Lampsacus also tried to prevent escalation of the conflict through diplomatic interventions. Leonteus, for instance, may have acted as a mediator, remaining impartial to both sides (Scriptor Epic. incert., PHerc. 176, fr. 5, col. x, 1-8 A.). When the rift finally proved unavoidable and Timocrates had launched


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his attack, Epicurus could not but react. Besides polemical works (Diog. Laert. 10,23 and 28; cf. Cicero, nat. deor. 1,93), he wrote public and private letters (Scriptor Epic. incert., PHerc. 176, fr. 5, col. xv, 2-4 A.), and also sent some followers to the Royal Court in order to repair the damage which Timocrates’ slander had caused (Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1126C). For this was no doubt one of the particular circumstances in which it was right to pay court to a king (cf. Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 577 Us.). Nonetheless, it is quite significant that Epicurus sent some of his followers to the king rather than going himself, contrary to Metrodorus, who himself went to the Piraeus in order to help Mithres. Security reasons may have played their part, to be sure, similarly to the fact that others were in a better position to complete the matter successfully9. But by sending others, Epicurus also showed his opponent that his slanderous attack failed to reach its destructive end. For Epicurus remained after all inaccessible and well protected by the walls of his Garden, enjoying the pleasures of his otium in the company of Metrodorus, whereas Timocrates himself risked being entangled more and more in the troubles of the Royal Court. Nonetheless, Epicurus presumably did suffer some harm from Timocrates’ polemic, even if he tried to reduce it to a minimum. According to his own doctrine, the sage will overcome βλάβαι ἐξ ἀνθρώπων through reasoning (λογισμῷ; Diog. Laert. 10,117) and this is probably what Epicurus also tried to do in this case. One could presume that, contrary to his opponent, he refrained from personal attacks and rather used rational arguments in order to correct Timocrates’ slander10. These arguments may well have been insufficient to clear himself of all suspicions, but they probably guaranteed him at least the security he needed in order to continue his pleasant life in the Garden. Finally, it is likely that Timocrates’ polemical attack also had one positive consequence for the Epicurean community: it forced the other members to close the ranks and reaffirm their devotion to their master. One could presume that the Epicureans of the community of Lampsacus after the rift underlined their loyalty to Epicurus and Metrodorus11. They licked their wounds together and tried to recover their harmony. In that sense, by throwing his enemies back upon their own circle, Timocrates also contributed, somewhat paradoxically, to the sequestered life of the Epicurean community.

9 Plutarch’s vague τοὺς Τιμοκράτει λοιδορησομένους (Adv. Colot. 1126C) may in the first place refer to Idomeneus, who maintained good relations with the Royal Court; cf. Scriptor Epic. incert., PHerc. 176, fr. 5, col. xv, 4-5 and 9-12 A. 10 See Philodemus, De Epic. [PHerc. 1289β], col. xxiv, 2-9 and col. xxvi, 1-12 T.G.; cf. also Scriptor Epic. incert., PHerc. 176, fr. 5, col. xv, 5-9 A. 11 Cf. Script. Epic. incert., PHerc. 176, fr. 5, col. xi, 6 - xii, 13 A., with the interpretation of A. Angeli (1988), 37-38.

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2.1.4. To conclude, it is far from surprising that so much attention was given to the conflict with Timocrates, both in the first generation of the Garden and in later Epicurean literature. For Timocrates’ decision to leave the Garden and his subsequent polemical attack harmed Epicurus and his community probably more than all of the other philosophical polemics. The reason was that Timocrates was not interested in reaching the truth through philosophical or theoretical arguments, but merely wanted to be a source of trouble for Epicurus and mar the latter’s life. He played the man, not the ball. This conclusion can throw new light upon the controversial question to which philosophical school Timocrates deserted. Philippson’s hypothesis that Timocrates was influenced by Nausiphanes already proved to rest on insufficient evidence (cf. supra, 2.1.1). According to E. Bignone12, Timocrates crossed over to the Platonic-Peripatetic tradition, whereas A. Tepedino Guerra13 rather thinks of the Cyzicenes. The crucial passage is Philodemus, De Epic. [PHerc. 1289β], col. xxvii, 6-12 T.G., where it is said that Timocrates in his youth had already associated with certain sophists (τινας σοφιστῶν) outside the school. This allusion, however, is too vague to base apodictic conclusions on it. Moreover, the passage deals with the period before the conflict and it is far from certain that Timocrates again joined these sophists after the rift. My own suggestion is that Timocrates abandoned philosophy all together. There is no evidence that he was looking for other philosophical schools the doctrines of which were more in line with his own views. In that respect, it is highly relevant that in later periods, he was never defended by philosophers of any other philosophical school, and that no such school counted him among its members. Probably, Timocrates along with Epicureanism also renounced philosophy as such. In later generations, one often underlined that the value of Epicureanism is based on its practice, rather than on its theoretical arguments (see, e.g., Cicero, fin. 2,81; Seneca, dial. 7,13,2-3). This for the last time illustrates the importance of Timocrates’ polemic and the potential harm it could cause to Epicurus. For it was precisely the practice of the Epicurean way of life that Timocrates questioned and even tried to render impossible. This also puts the later biographies of Epicurus and his συμφιλοσοφοῦντες into a new perspective. For it now becomes clear that the importance of these texts did not merely lie in giving examples that are worthy of imitation and in adding to the pleasure of later members of the school by recalling the happy life of their predecessors (ἡδὺ ἡ φίλου μνήμη τεθνηκότος; Plutarch, Non posse 1105E = fr. 213 Us.). They can also be regarded as an answer to slanderous attacks such as that of Timocrates. Just as theoretical polemics against Epicurus’ philosophy had to be answered in theoretical replies, the attacks on the actual praxis of the Epicurean way of life should be countered by eulogies on the important members of the school. (1973), I, 473-474; cf. D. Sedley (1976), 153, n. 33. (1992), 173-175.

12 13


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Timocrates’ attack seems to have been fairly systematic and was far from unintelligent. It was an assault on the heart of Epicurus’ philosophy. But, as far as we can still judge from the scanty material at our disposal, it was unfair and malicious too. Unlike Aristotle, Timocrates did not like the truth and hated his previous master even more. Since his sole intention seems to have been a negative one, one could presume that a certain rancour was not foreign to him. In any case, his negative intentions were diametrically opposed to those of Epicurus, who wished to lead everybody to happiness. If this radical opposition indeed holds true, it would not be very surprising that, whereas Epicurus continued to enjoy life in the company of many friends, Timocrates in the end, embittered and isolated, died an unnoticed death. 2.2. Cicero 2.2.1. Although Cicero was as fervent an opponent of Epicurus as Timocrates, the polemical approach of both radically differs. Cicero had no personal conflicts with the Epicureans – his best friend Atticus adhered to Epicurean philosophy – and more than once points to the positive aspects of Epicurus’ doctrines, although his kindness is usually condescending and nearly always contributes indirectly to his polemical goal14. Moreover, such occasional instances of fair kindness do not alter the fact that Cicero often omits the stronger points of Epicurus’ philosophy15 and prefers to dwell at length on the difficulties which it entails16. This overall aversion to Epicureanism, and more specifically to the Epicurean apolitical doctrine with which we are concerned here, shows that Epicurus’ arguments did not leave Cicero indifferent. It is probably true that Cicero’s polemical reaction was not rooted in feelings of rancour or personal enmity, but there was much more at stake for him than just a purely theoretical issue. Epicurus’ general tendency to avoid politics and public speaking17 was no doubt particularly offensive to Cicero, who lived for politics and loved to excel as an orator, and whose philosophical convictions were thoroughly impregnated with such a perspective18. Again and again, Cicero underlines that the good man should pursue honour and fame as a Cf. C. Lévy (2001). Cf. P. MacKendrick (1989), 146 and J. Leonhardt (1999), 104-105. 16 There is no doubt that Epicurus is always situated at the lowest level of probability in Cicero’s works; see esp. W. Görler (1974), 63-83 and passim; G. Gawlick – W. Görler (1994), 1100-1116 and 1122-1123, on Cicero’s ‘Stufenschema’. 17 The two are connected in Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1127A = fr. 8 Us.: γράφουσι περὶ πολιτείας ἵνα μὴ πολιτευώμεθα, καὶ περὶ ῥητορικῆς ἵνα μὴ ῥητορεύωμεν, κτλ. 18 A.A. Long (1995), 38-39 is right in claiming that Cicero remains consistent about his interest as a writer in integrating philosophy with politics and rhetoric, and that this is “the key to understanding his philosophical œuvre as a whole, his philosophical sympathies, and much of his mind-set”. 14 15

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reward for his virtue19, and his uninterrupted self-praise more than anything else illustrates his own aspirations to a great reputation20. In that sense, Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ must have run counter to Cicero’s deepest convictions21. Yet, one should note that Cicero’s position towards otium was much more ambivalent than might be suggested by his enthusiasm for politics. Plutarch informs us that Cicero considered to retire to Athens in order to lead a contemplative life devoted to philosophy (Cic. 4,2; cf. also 3,2)22, and the attractivity of such leisure was a problem with which Cicero struggled for his whole life23. He never endorsed the Epicurean interpretation of a vita otiosa, but advocated the more honourable ideal of an otium cum dignitate (Sest. 98; fam. 1,9,21; de orat. 1,1), exemplified by Scipio (off. 3,1-4; cf. also rep. 1,14), an otium entirely oriented towards a political ideal (cf. rep. 1,8) and even acquires a political meaning24. That Cicero was himself forced to political inactivity was one of the greatest tragedies of his life. The renewal of the first Triumvirate at the Conference of Luca (56 B.C.) compelled him to bid farewell to his political ambitions. At that moment, he faced a difficult dilemma: a political understanding of his otium became problematic, but the Epicurean alternative was even under such circumstances no option to him25. In order to escape from this dilemma and lend at least a certain degree of dignitas to his involuntary otium, he undertook to compose his philosophical treatises as a service to his 19 See, e.g., Sest. 139; rep. 3,6; 3,40 (vult plane virtus honorem, nec est virtutis ulla alia merces); 5,6; 5,9; 6,25; leg. 3,18; Lael. 34 and 84; Pis. 57 and 82; etc. Cicero also wrote a work De gloria, which unfortunately has been lost; short discussions can be found in K. Bringmann (1971), 198-205 and J. Boes (1990), 36-43. 20 In one of his letters, he himself admits that he is even too fond of glory (fam. 9,14,2 = Att. 14,17a,2), a telling example of an understatement of course. 21 W. Süss (1966), 9 even regards Epicurus’ apolitical doctrine as the most important reason for Cicero’s rejection of Epicureanism. But in his philosophical works, the em phasis is rather on the rejection of voluptas as the final end; cf. Süss’ own apt remark: “wie Luther einmal bekennt, nicht beten zu können, ohne dem Papst zu fluchen, wie Schopenhauer nicht philosophieren kann, ohne auf die Philosophieprofessoren zu schimpfen, so kann Cicero nicht den Namen Epikur aussprechen, ohne wieder einmal mit sichtlichem Behagen weit über die unmittelbare Veranlassung hinaus die Gelegenheit wahrzunehmen, ihn und sein Lustprinzip so recht von Grund aus abzufertigen.” (p. 81). 22 Cf. also J.L. Moles (1988), 151, on the ‘two lives’ theme in Plutarch’s Life of Cicero. 23 Cf. J.-M. André (1966), 279-334. 24 On the precise significance of the difficult phrase otium cum dignitate, see, e.g., P. Boyancé (1941); A. Grilli (1951); C. Wirszubski (1954); J.-M. André (1966), 295-306. 25 About ten years later, Cicero claims in a letter to Papirius Paetus to have abandoned all concerns for politics and to have thrown himself into the camp of his old enemy Epicurus (fam. 9,20,1), but the tone of the passage is one of sad irony, which does not imply real conversion to Epicureanism on Cicero’s part.


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country26. This implies that his polemical attacks against Epicurus can themselves be interpreted as a service to the state, and thus as a political act. One should be cautious, though, not to overemphasise the importance of this observation, as Cicero’s own view regarding the political significance of his works primarily rests on an intelligent rationalisation of his own political downfall. His short return to the political scene after the murder of Caesar sufficiently reveals that the political project of the philosophical treatises is at best a δεύτερος πλοῦς. Cicero was, and remained, a statesman through and through, up until his last day. This brief portrait may suffice to show why Cicero is a much more interesting opponent of Epicurus than Timocrates. Epicurus had strong arguments to promote a sequestered life and even recall those who had already engaged in politics (cf. rep. 1,3: ut eos etiam revocent qui iam processerint). In Cicero’s works, we can find the reply of an experienced politician to these arguments. As far as I know, Cicero is the only true politician in antiquity who thematised and tried to refute Epicurus’ arguments at length in his works27. Moreover, his familiarity with philosophy largely sufficed both to understand Epicurus’ argumentation28 and to give his own political position and motivations a philosophical foundation. Finally, his own position towards and interpretation of otium was for him what we might call an ‘existential’ problem, so that we can be sure that his own arguments were the fruit of careful and long thinking. All this makes Cicero a particularly interesting source in the context of this study. Before turning to Cicero’s different arguments, a brief methodological remark is in place. There are some good arguments to deal with the relevant works in a chronological order. Such a chronological approach indeed will not only show very well how Cicero’s anti-Epicurean criticism through a gradual crescendo culminates in his late philosophical treatises29, but will See, e.g., nat. deor. 1,7; fin. 1,10; ac. 1,6 and 2,11; div. 2,1; cf. also rep. 1,12 and fam. 9,2,5 (Cicero serves the state in the library rather than in the senate). 27 Seneca and Plutarch were both politically active, to be sure, but few, I think, would consider them to be true politicians in the same sense as Cicero. The emperor Julian ex officio was a true politician, but his discussion of Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy is extremely brief (ad Them. 255b-d). 28 Cicero heard leading Epicureans such as Phaedrus and Zeno (fin. 1,16), and if necessary, he could always turn to Atticus for further clarifications. 29 Attacks against Epicurus remain almost entirely absent from his early works. According to H.M. Howe (1951), 61-62, Cicero’s anti-Epicurean polemic only starts after Pharsalus (48 B.C.), that is, in the last years of his life. T. Maslowski (1974), esp. 73-78 is convinced that Cicero’s anti-Epicureanism can be traced back to his reading of Lucretius’ De rerum natura (at about 55/54 B.C.). Much more plausible, however, is the view of G. D’Anna (1965), that Cicero has always been opposed to Epicurus; cf. also T. Gargiulo (1980), 307-310 and J.-L. Ferrary (2001), 102-105. That the theme only comes to the fore in his philosophical writings is not really surprising, since a full discussion of 26

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also take into account the fact that Cicero himself appears to regard his philosophical works as one whole (cf. div. 2,1-4), which may imply that the reader of a later treatise is expected to be familiar with the arguments elaborated in previous works30. Nonetheless, I am convinced that a thematical approach in the end proves more fruitful, not merely because it enables one to avoid many awkward repetitions (as we will see, several arguments return in different works) but primarily because it throws more light on what Cicero’s basic arguments are and on the direct and indirect connections between several passages from different works. To compensate for the loss of the advantages yielded by the chronological approach, I begin with a discussion of Cicero’s Republic, one of the earlier works in which Cicero attacks Epicurus’ apolitical view and which provides a good general image of Cicero’s own position. 2.2.2. Cicero wrote his Republic when he could already look back on a whole political career. The views defended in the work are those of an ex-consul thoroughly familiar with all the details of political life up to the highest level. In that sense, Cicero’s attempt to refute, at the very outset of his work, those thinkers who dissuaded him from engaging in politics can be regarded as an apologia pro vita sua. Yet the first aim of the proem is to be sought elsewhere. Cicero himself explicitly informs us that he wishes to remove all grounds for hesitation about participation in politics in order to take care that the following discussion on the state is not useless in advance (1,12). This is an intelligent and well-considered approach, which enables Cicero to thematise some of the fundamental presuppositions on which the rest of his work is based, and which thus lends additional importance to the incompletely preserved proem. And yet, Cicero does not offer a detailed and exhaustive status quaestionis. He merely points to some general objections without specifying the context in which they were raised and without – at least in the section which is still extant – identifying his opponents by name. One should note that the Epicureans are not the only philosophers whom Cicero attacks in this passage. Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics all had their own reasons to temper their enthusiasm for politics, and thus are also among the targets of Cicero’s polemical attacks31. This is important because it implies that Cicero can no longer fall back on cheap common places such as an attack on uncultivated egoism or the pursuit of vulgar pleasures, if he really wishes to refute his opponents. Epicurus’ philosophy is much more relevant in these works than in political speeches, which are rooted in specific political or juridicial contexts that have nothing to do with philosophy. 30 Cf. also O. Gigon (1973), 243. 31 See E. Asmis (2001), 117-118, who correctly shows that the Epicureans were the only ones who endorsed all of Cicero’s objections to the very end.


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The text that has been preserved actually begins with two positive arguments in favour of political engagement. First, Cicero argues that great politicians had a natural wish to serve the public interest. The fact that they entered public life even when they did not need it at all (cum cogeret [...] necessitas nulla) shows that their commitment is rooted in nature (1,1). Man is a ζῷον πολιτικόν, born to take part in political life (cf. leg. 1,62)32. Second, the politician far better succeeds in realising virtue than the philosopher, because he proves to be much more useful to his fellow citizens (1,2-3). These two arguments are extremely important for a correct understanding of Cicero’s polemical position, since they clarify the basic presuppositions on which his following arguments rest. From the very outset, Cicero proves to adopt a point of view diametrically opposed to Epicurus’ philosophical convictions. Epicurus indeed argued that human beings are not social by nature (frs. 523, 540, 551, 580 and 581 Us.) and he would strongly doubt that a politician would benefit his fellow citizens better through his political actions than he himself by freeing them from their irrational fears and empty desires. It is clear, then, that Cicero in these paragraphs immediately raises fundamental philosophical questions, which thoroughly condition the rest of the whole debate. It is only after having introduced this fundamental perspective that Cicero turns to the different arguments against political engagement. As I said before, the objections are not only gathered from Epicurus’ writings. In what follows, however, I shall confine myself to the (anti-)Epicurean aspect of the discussion. a) The first objection is derived from the labours implied by a political career (1,4). This is brushed aside by Cicero as a particularly trivial argument. Of course Cicero knew from personal experience that his opponents were basically right in claiming that political life entailed many efforts33, and his dismissal of this objection is based in this case on rhetorical plausibility rather than on philosophical reflection. What seems so trivial to Cicero is essential in an Epicurean perspective characterised by a careful calculus of pleasure and pain. Moreover, the objection is formulated in a biased way, See E. Asmis (2001), 120 for Cicero’s transformation of Aristotle’s argument. Cf. W. Süss (1966), 9: “Wir besitzen die Briefe des Atticus an seinen Freund leider nicht; doch man vermag sich neben anderem gerade auch folgenden Inhalt vorzustellen: daß Atticus selbst ebenso wie die übrigen epikureischen Freunde Ciceros – deren er nach Zeugnis seiner erhaltenen Korrespondenz recht viele hatte – Cicero immer wieder, schriftlich und auch mündlich, dringend ermahnt haben, er möge doch den ganzen Bettel hinwerfen; daß sie ihm oft darlegten, es gebe gar keine bessere Bestätigung für die Lehre des Meisters als – eine Art Musterbeispiel – das politische Leben Ciceros, überreich an furchtbaren Enttäuschungen, mit qualvoller Mühe den eigenen Ehrgeiz an ewigen Anfeindungen teilweise unwürdiger Gegner zerreibend, schließlich im Kampf mit mächtigeren Gegnern zerbrechend.” 32 33

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since it omits the nuances of the Epicurean position – Epicurus, too, was prepared to assume great efforts, though only if necessary, that is, if they contributed to even greater pleasures – and, more importantly, since it presupposes a fairly positive evaluation of the politician’s motivations (re publica defendenda), whereas Epicurus would argue that one usually enters political life for the sake of empty and unnatural desires which are difficult to satisfy. From an orthodox Epicurean point of view, then, Cicero’s reply is entirely unconvincing. b) Closely connected to the argument from the labores is that of the pericula vitae. This is somewhat maliciously interpreted by Cicero as an appeal to a man’s fear of death (1,4). Such an interpretation would be particularly offensive to Epicurus, who precisely wished to cure everyone from this fear (cf. RS 2 = SV 2). Cicero then goes on to argue that a brave man would prefer an honourable death for his country to dying from old age (1,4). A quick look at Philodemus’ De morte shows that the Epicureans knew how to unmask such rhetorical argument. Most people who strive for such an honourable death are merely slaughtered like cattle (col. xxviii, 36 – col. xxix, 2; cf. col. xxxiii, 15-23 and Rhet. I, 234, col. v, 6 – 235, col. v, 15 S.) and a good death on one’s sickbed, surrounded by one’s friends, may well be preferred to death in battle34. Even apart from that, it is silly to risk one’s life for an empty ideal. In an Epicurean perspective, the argument from the pericula vitae is based on a careful calculus of pleasure and pain rather than on fear of death. Cicero elaborates the argument from the pericula vitae through a whole series of examples (1,4-6). The misfortunes of famous Greek and Roman politicians time and again illustrate the same point. History turns out to be a storehouse of concrete examples which can be used as a confirmation of the Epicurean point of view. Cicero then makes the whole series culminate in ... himself: nec vero iam meo nomine abstinent et, credo, quia nostro consilio ac periculo sese in illa vita atque otio conservatos putant, gravius etiam de nobis queruntur et amantius. (1,6) “They even include my own name; I suppose that because they think that they were preserved in a life of peace by my counsel and dangers they make even stronger and more affectionate complaints about what happened to me” (transl. J.E.G. Zetzel). This, again, is malicious rhetoric rather than fair discussion. Cicero does not merely characterise his opponents as parasites (I shall deal with this ar Cf. supra, 1.2.1.3 and 1.2.2f; G. Roskam (2007), 125-128.

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gument later on; cf. infra, 2.2.5), but also suggests that, as a result of this parasitic character, they even complaint of his own misfortune. That the Epicureans would rather burst into laughter at this conceited braggart than complain of his misery is obvious of course (cf. Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1127C = Metrodorus, fr. 32 K.). Yet, for all its boastful self-glorification, this passage may well introduce the most interesting argument of the whole proem. For when Epicurus points to the unhappy fate of many politicians, and Plutarch counters with a different interpretation of the same examples (cf. infra, 3.3.3.2a), they both speak about others. Cicero speaks about himself. For once, we have the testimony of an ancient politician himself. This precious passage may show which attitude such a politician adopts towards Epicurus’ argument from pericula vitae. It is the dark irony of history that precisely at this place, a part of the text has been lost, but at least a part of the crucial information can still be recovered. In Cicero’s view, all his misery has been amply compensated for: his sufferings brought him more honour than labour, and more joy because of the longing felt for him by the good than grief at the joy of the wicked (1,7). This in the end turns the Epicurean calculus upside down. I see no reason to doubt Cicero’s sincerity here. It indeed seems likely to me that Cicero does not make this point merely pour le besoin de la cause, but that he expresses his sincere convictions. Of course Epicurus would regard Cicero’s answer as highly irrational, but that does not alter the fact that Cicero established his own priorities and created his own value scale. In what follows, Cicero adds that he could have acted otherwise, as he had all the talents to derive even greater pleasure from a quiet life than other men (1,7). Again, in spite of all self-praise, his argument is important, since it underlines that Cicero’s decision not to follow Epicurus’ advice of μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι was not the result of necessity or lack of competence, but of a conscious choice to serve his country (1,7-8). Once again, Cicero’s testimony thus shows that not all politicians were blindly following irrational and empty desires without being able to give their political actions a rational motivation. Epicurus could have regarded such motivations as mere rationalisations, to be sure, and would have stuck to his conviction that the costs of a political career far outweigh the benefits, but once more, this does not alter the fact that ancient politicians could have seen things differently and acted on their own value scale. c) The last argument save one against participation in politics is derived from the character of the politicians themselves. They are usually base men and the association with them is not merely degrading for the sage, but also useless and even dangerous (1,9)35. Cicero confirms this negative evalu According to G. Pfligersdorffer (1969), 27 (and cf. K. Büchner (1984), 70-71 and 89), this objection should not be traced back to the Epicureans but to the Stoics. He points to a parallel passage in off. 1,69, which in my view is not decisive. The passage may show that the Epicureans were not the only ones to raise this objection, but it does not show that they did not endorse it. 35

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ation36, probably speaking from personal experience, but reinterprets it as an argument for his own position: the sage engages in politics because he refuses to be ruled by such wicked men (1,9). It is clear that this argument will fail to convince Epicurus. As long as those base politicians do not throw the whole legislation and political constitution into confusion, they can pursue their own empty desires and contribute to their own unhappiness. Their political scheming will hardly damage Epicurus’ private life in his Garden. d) But what if those wicked politicians indeed ruin the state? This problem is discussed in the final objection. Cicero introduces the Epicurean doctrine that the sage does not engage in politics unless he is forced by circumstances and necessity (extra quam si eum tempus et necessitas coegerit; 1,10). Cicero once again points to his own example. He had to face such a great necessitas (that is, the Catilinarian conspiracy) and could only solve the problem because he was consul at that moment, which, of course, was only the result of a long political career. The conclusion is obvious: the opportunity of serving the state does not come all of a sudden, or when you wish it, but only when you are in the position which enables you to do so (1,10). In this case, however, Cicero’s reference to his own example is particularly misleading, because it entails a highly biased, even simply erroneous interpretation of the Epicurean doctrine. As has been said earlier (cf. supra, 1.4.3), Seneca more generally states that the Epicurean sage will enter political life si quid intervenerit (dial. 8,3,2 = fr. 9 Us.). Cicero more concretely interprets this exceptional case as helping the state (1,10: opitulandi rei publicae; 1,11: polliceri operam suam rei publicae) in emergency situations, but it is much more likely that Epicurus was rather thinking of circumstances where the situation of (one or more members of) a particular Epicurean community required political action. In other terms, Cicero’s tempus et necessitas concerns the Epicureans themselves, rather than the state. They will enter political life not as a service to the state but in order to contribute to the wellbeing of their own community and its members. However, Cicero puts forward a second argument which further problematises Epicurus’ position. He recalls that his opponents themselves openly proclaim that they have never cared to learn or teach the art of politics (1,11). Exactly the same point is to be found in leg. 1,39 (rei publicae, cuius partem nec norunt ullam neque umquam nosse voluerunt), but whereas this negative characterisation there merely serves as an easy rhetorical strategy to remove possible nuisance, in the Republic it has important argumentative It is worth noting that Philodemus has completely different accents. He recognises that some politicians are bad, to be sure, but underlines, against Diogenes of Babylon, that many have shown evidence of personal virtue; Rhet. II, 209, col. vi, 19-28 S.; cf. G. Roskam (2007), 105-107. 36


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value. How can the occasional political engagement of the Epicurean be successful if he is unfamiliar with the domain of politics? Philodemus himself agrees that politics has its own autonomy37 and that the philosopher as philosopher can hardly contribute anything to political life (Rhet. I, 383, col. cx, 2-7 S.). Is the political project of an Epicurean philosopher, unexperienced with the daily struggles and manœuvres of political life, not doomed to failure in advance? Cicero’s argument is not without value, and yet the problem is far less severe than Cicero thinks. First of all, Epicurus was not completely ignorant of politics. He was well informed about the course of political events38 and it is not impossible that he understood as an intelligent outsider several mechanisms of political life even better than insiders who were completely involved in them. Secondly, as has been mentioned above, it is extremely doubtful that Epicurus would ever have to deal with an emergency such as the Catilinarian conspiracy or would “take the helm of the state when the waves dash highest” (1,11: iidem ad gubernacula se accessuros profiteantur excitatis maximis fluctibus). He would not feel the need to save the state, but would in extreme emergencies rather prefer to leave the country39. His political projects, then, will have a much more limited scope, closely connected with the interest of his own community, and will often be less difficult to realise. Moreover, he can turn to more influential friends in order to reach his end. One should note that Cicero himself once lent assistance to such an Epicurean political project, when he wrote on behalf of his friend Atticus to G. Memmius in order to prevent him from destroying the ruins of Epicurus’ house (fam. 13,1; cf. supra, 1.4.3). These are the kinds of emergencies which force the Epicureans to turn to politics, and in this case, as in others, they were apparently successful. It is true of course that they owe their success to the intervention of more powerful politicians, but even this, in a way, is just part of the political game40. e) To conclude, the proem of the first book of Cicero’s Republic provides an interesting picture of several arguments which Cicero opposes to the Epicureans and of the fundamental philosophical presuppositions upon which they ultimately rest. None, I think, would convince Epicurus. Yet they are interesting because they show why Epicurus himself failed to convince the politicians. An intelligent statesman such as Cicero was able both to agree G. Roskam (2007), 104-108, and supra, 1.2.1.1e. H. Steckel (1968), 591-592 and M.L. Silvestre (1995). 39 Cf. Philodemus, Rhet. i, 259, col. xxiv, 33-39 S.; cf. also Cicero, Phil. 12,14 and supra, 1.4.3. 40 Cf. Plutarch’s political advice to his young friend Menemachus of Sardes to use more powerful friends in the service of his honourable political goal; Praec. ger. reip. 806F-807D; 814C-E; 819B-D. 37 38

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(partly) with Epicurus’ evaluation of the negative aspects of political life and to nuance the importance of this evaluation by giving it a meaningful place in a broader philosophical perspective which provides political engagement with a rational foundation. 2.2.3. In the rest of Cicero’s works, we can find three other anti-Epicurean arguments41. All three of them have a strongly rhetorical aspect42, yet they are all philosophically interesting as well. The first argument consists of a direct attack ad hominem, based on the importance of consistency between words and deeds. The most interesting examples of this argument are to be found in Cicero’s letters. In a letter to Trebatius (February 53 B.C.), Cicero expresses his surprise that his addressee has become Epicurean and goes on to argue that Epicurus’ philosophy is incompatible with Trebatius’ activities as a lawyer. Not all of his objections are equally convincing – it is perfectly possible to defend ius civile in an orthodox Epicurean perspective, to give but one example – but his last argument is an interesting one: Quid fiet porro populo Ulubrano si tu statueris πολιτεύεσθαι non oportere? (fam. 7,12,2) “And what is to become of the good folk of Ulubrae, if you decide that it is wrong to take part in public affairs?” (transl. D.R. Shackleton Bailey) Commentators note that Trebatius was probably patronus of the small town Ulubrae43. In Cicero’s view, such political engagement is opposed to Epicurean philosophy. And indeed, in order to defend himself, Trebatius could A fourth argument, sui generis, is to be found in Att. 14,20,5: Epicuri mentionem facis et audes dicere μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι? non te Bruti nostri vulticulus ab ista oratione deterret? According to J. Boes (1990), 383, n. 418, “le diminutif ‘vulticulus’ pourrait bien désigner tout simplement le visage trop peu expressif de Brutus dans ses interventions publiques, un visage incapable de provoquer l’effroi chez les citoyens manquant de civisme, ce qui permet alors à un épicurien comme Atticus d’avouer son ‘mê politeuesthai’”. I find the traditional interpretation more convincing: the seriousness which is written all over Brutus’ face (cf. Att. 15,12,1 and ad Brut. 2,5,2) is used as an argument against the Epicurean doctrine of μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι. Of course this is not a philosophical argument, nor is it intended as such. We here witness the warm exchange between friends. Cicero did not feel the need to attack the sincere convictions of his best friend by means of vehement polemical arguments, and thus turns to witticism. One may add that we do not even know how serious Atticus’ own advice was. It is not impossible that Cicero merely countered one joke with another. 42 On the importance of rhetoric in Cicero’s philosophical works, see, e.g., A. Michel (1973); P.R. Smith (1995); E.G. Schmidt (1995); J. Leonhardt (1999). 43 R.Y. Tyrrell – L.C. Purser (1906), 244-245; D.R. Shackleton Bailey (1977), 339. 41


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only point to RS 6 and 7, even though these doctrines primarily offer an interpretative key to the past rather than protreptic advice to enter political life44. Cicero may well be right in detecting a possible inconsistency on this point. It is not immediately evident in any case how Trebatius’ political engagement is in line with Epicurus’ tenet of μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι. One may note in passing that Trebatius was probably not the only one who had to face this theoretical difficulty. In his day, many politicians endorsed Epicurean philosophy45, although it is far from clear to what extent their political activities were influenced by their philosophical views46, how they themselves understood their own ‘Epicureanism’, and how seriously they took it. Particularly illustrative in this respect is Rambaud’s evaluation of Caesar’s Epicureanism: “Il convient de le définir comme un épicurisme de l’utilitas plutôt que de la voluptas, car il donne à l’action une primauté de fait sur le repos”47. This evaluation may well be right, but one wonders of course what kind of Epicureanism this is. Epicurus himself made it perfectly clear that pleasure is the absolute standard to which any action should be referred (RS 25). If Caesar was an Epicurean, he had learned this tenet by heart. It is clear that Cicero’s ad hominem argument derives its persuasive force primarily from its rhetorical power. Yet it also has a certain philosophical value, not because it refutes Epicurus’ philosophy but because it rightly questions the precise relation between Trebatius’ political commitment and his Epicureanism. Unfortunately, we do not have Trebatius’ answer48 and thus are unable to judge to what extent he indeed took seriously all the implications of his Epicurean philosophy. A somewhat similar argument can be found in the famous letter to Cassius (January 45 B.C.). Cicero once again expresses his astonishment that his addressee converted to Epicureanism: Quamquam quicum loquor? cum uno fortissimo viro, qui, postea quam forum attigisti, nihil fecisti nisi plenissimum amplissimae dignitatis. in ista ipsa αἱρέσει metuo ne plus nervorum sit quam ego putaram si modo eam tu probas. (fam. 15,16,3) “But to whom am I talking? Why, to the most gallant gentleman alive, whose every action since entering public life has been in the fullest accord On Plutarch, De tranq. an. 465F-466A = fr. 555 Us., see G. Roskam (2007), 52-

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54. See esp. A. Momigliano (1941) and C.J. Castner (1988). M. Griffin (1989), 28-32. 47 (1969), 433. 48 A possible reconstruction of what Trebatius could have said is to be found in M. Erler (1992b), 310-321. 45 46

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with his exalted standing. I am afraid that even this system of yours must have more spunk in it than I had supposed, that is if you are really an adherent.” (transl. D.R. Shackleton Bailey) In this case too, Cicero’s ad hominem argument rests on his conviction that the political career of his addressee is incompatible with his Epicurean views. His final proviso si modo eam tu probas is crucial, revealing as it does Cicero’s doubts about the seriousness of Cassius’ Epicureanism and thus forming an interesting challenge to Cassius himself. What is the power of Epicureanism that it succeeds in convincing a politician such as Cassius and how does he manage to reconcile his political action with his theoretical views? In this case, we are fortunate to have Cassius’ reply, and it is particularly illustrative in that it completely ignores Cicero’s challenge. He answers other questions, raised in previous letters, but keeps silent regarding Cicero’s last point. This is even more important because he is able to counter convincingly the other objections of Cicero49. On this particular issue, however, Cicero seems to carry the day. His argument does not show that Epicurus was wrong, to be sure, but it does show that Cassius is wrong if he thinks that his political engagement is in line with his Epicureanism. 2.2.4. The second argument is derived from the mos maiorum and the authoritative examples of the past. Cicero uses this argument in different contexts. a) It plays an important part in his speech Against Piso, delivered after his return from exile. Cicero’s vitriolic attack against Piso is not free from feelings of frustration and rancour, and it is likely that he misrepresents the events of the recent past. In order to discredit his opponent, he also refers to the latter’s ‘Epicurean’ convictions. It is clear that the anti-Epicurean polemic in this speech is merely one of the means to destroy Piso’s reputation and undermine his credibility as a politician. It is true of course that Cicero more than once uses imagery and ideas which also occur in other, more philosophically oriented polemics (for instance in Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo)50, but his intention is not so much to question the truth of Epicurus’ philosophy as to attack its application by Piso. Piso’s refusal of a triumph is important for us here. We do not know the motivations of his refusal, although it is not unlikely that Piso’s decision was at least partly based on his Epicureanism51. Cicero, for his part, tries to dis See M. Griffin (1995), 343-346. See Ph. De Lacy (1941). 51 M. Griffin (2001), 92 thinks that Piso in his own speech also dealt with the Epicurean qualification of RS 7: “Did Piso, as a good Epicurean, accept this qualification and 49 50


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credit his opponent’s decision by opposing it to a great number of counterexamples from both the present and the past. The list is quite impressive: Pompey, Crassus, P. Servilius, Q. Metellus, C. Curio, L. Afranius, C. Pomptinus, Camillus, Curius, Fabricius, Calatinus, Scipio, Marcellus, Maximus, Paulus, Marius, Cn. Pompeius Strabo, and P. Licinius Crassus (all in one paragraph: 58), Caesar (Piso’s own son-in-law; 59), T. Flamininus, L. Paulus, Q. Metellus, T. Didius (61), L. Crassus, C. Cotta, M. Piso (62) and innumerabiles alii (61). All of these examples are piled up in a few paragraphs, which creates the impression that Cicero could easily continue ad infinitum. Their great number even forms part and parcel of Cicero’s argument, as it illustrates that Piso stands alone in his convictions and is actually at odds with the traditional morality of the mos maiorum that made Rome great. Moreover, Cicero subtly suggests that Piso despises all these great predecessors and colleagues52, which, of course, makes him even more unsympathetic. It is clear, then, that the counterexamples neither aim at a better philosophical insight into the foundations of honourable behaviour nor aim at a discussion and refutation of the Epicurean point of view, but that they primarily have a destructive purpose, that is, the character assassination of the opponent. b) A completely different use of such counterexamples can be found in De finibus, where they have a certain philosophical significance. It is important to note from the very beginning that Epicurus’ political doctrine is nowhere discussed for its own sake in the first two books of De finibus. The greatest part of the discussion focuses on the opposition, inspired by the Carneadea divisio53, between voluptas and honestas or virtus. This is the background against which the function of the counterexamples should be understood. They are intended to show that one should prefer honestum (with its political connotation) to pleasure. At the same time, however, they throw light on the motivations of famous politicians and thus indirectly on the question of whether or not to engage in politics. The discussion of concrete examples permeates the first two books of De finibus. At the beginning of the discussion, Cicero already recalls the famous indeed confront it in his speech? The fact that Cicero does not use this argument against him and accuse him, as he does elsewhere, of ignorance of his own philosophy, might suggest he did.” I do not think that this argumentum e silentio is compelling, and it can in fact be reversed: if Piso indeed discussed Epicurus’ more qualified position and Cicero keeps silent about this discussion, his apparent failure to refute his opponent on this point may well add to the plausibility of Piso’s argument. 52 E.g. Pis. 58: homo stultus; 59: valebis apud hominem volitantem gloriae cupiditate vir moderatus et constans, apud indoctum eruditus, etc.; 62: tu eruditior quam Piso, prudentior quam Cotta, abundantior consilio, ingenio, sapientia quam Crassus, ea contemnis quae illi ‘idiotae’, ut tu appellas, praeclara duxerunt. 53 C. Lévy (1984) and J. Leonhardt (1999), 135-212 (esp. 191sqq.).

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achievements of Torquatus’ own ancestors, and argues that they were not motivated by personal pleasure at all (1,23-24). This is a shrewd balance of subtle flattery54, argumentum ex auctoritate, and ad hominem argument. As such, Cicero’s words are particularly apt to provoke Torquatus’ reaction55. They are a direct challenge, not merely to his Epicurean convictions but even to his own person. Torquatus confidently accepts the challenge and in his reply neutralises the three components of Cicero’s argument. He appreciates Cicero’s kindness but is not prepared to be bribed by it (1,34; cf. also 2,72). He then interprets the history of his ancestors in a typically Epicurean way, arguing that their accomplishments were not based on love for virtue but on a careful calculus of their personal advantage. The behaviour of his ancestors can be regarded as an authoritative example worthy of imitation, but only if it rested on an Epicurean motivation. If not, it should be rejected as irrational conduct. Torquatus fully accepts the consequence of this conclusion for his own person: if his ancestor really acted from no motive, he would not wish to be his descendant (1,35: si sine causa, nollem me ab eo ortum). If he takes pride in his noble birth, it is obviously because he is convinced that his ancestors already acted in a rational, well-considered, ‘Epicurean’ way. For those reasons, Cicero’s counterexamples entirely fail to refute Torquatus’ Epicurean point of view. In the second book, Cicero nonetheless persists in calling to mind new examples of brilliant politicians of the past. His series of counterexamples recalls the long catalogue in his speech Against Piso, although this time, they are more elaborated and spread over the whole book. Greek examples are few; Leonidas, Epameinondas, some three or four (2,62; cf. also 2,116) – Plutarch would have difficulties to restrain his anger if he read this passage –, but the history of Rome provides a multitude of examples: Scipio (2,56), T. Manlius Torquatus (2,60), Publius Decius, and his son and grandson (2,61), Torquatus’ own father (2,62), Lucretia and L. Verginius (2,66), Aulus Torquatus (2,72-73), and Calatinus (2,117). This continuous reference to new concrete examples does not merely lend rhetorical power to Cicero’s argument, but also gradually isolates the Epicurean point of view. Moreover, by going back to the very beginning of the republic, while paying attention to the achievements of the Torquati in different periods, Cicero suggests that Torquatus’ Epicureanism is opposed to the whole glorious history of his own family and of Rome itself56. The Epicureans, on the other hand, are unable to produce a similar list of traditional authorities in support of their own view. Cf. B. Inwood (1990), 151. Which, according to Cicero, is actually their main goal (1,26: ut illum provocarem). At the same time, the initial attack already undermines Torquatus’ argument in advance; cf. C.J. Classen (1987). 56 Cf. C. Lévy (1992), 426. 54 55


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Not one famous statesman is mentioned in the Epicurean school: in vestris disputationibus historia muta est (2,67). It is clear that Cicero’s impressive list of counterexamples need not greatly trouble Torquatus’ tranquillity of mind. He merely has to analyse all of these examples one by one and examine to what extent they can be reconciled with his Epicurean point of view. Torquatus’ and Cicero’s standards of evaluation prove to be diametrically opposed: the former will praise the traditional heroes if they pursue their personal advantage (1,35), the latter if they refuse to do so (2,73). Furthermore, Cicero is simply wrong in claiming that history receives no place in the Epicurean discourses. The Epicureans were no less familiar with history than Cicero, but merely interpreted it in a different way. Torquatus is perfectly able to evaluate the accuracy of Cicero’s information (1,34: memoriter) and Philodemus even claims that history shows the truth of his own position (Rhet. II, 209, col. vi, 28-30 S.). One may add that the Epicureans could probably come up with an equally long list of examples which illustrate the correct Epicurean behaviour, gathered both from history and from biographical writings about members of their own school. Yet, Cicero’s argument from examples is much more interesting and relevant than the above evaluation might suggest. This appears from a radicalisation of the discussion, which was already prepared by Torquatus (1,40-41) and is fully elaborated by Cicero (2,63-65). The choice between the ideals of voluptas and honestas is represented as a choice between two concrete lives, embodied by two extreme examples. L. Thorius of Lanuvium is introduced as the representative par excellence of the life of pleasure. He uninterruptedly pursued exquisite pleasures in the most rational and well-considered way, had no irrational fears at all, and was greatly successful in satisfying his desires. In short, his whole life was full of pleasure of every variety (2,63-64; cf. also 2,70). His opposite is M. Regulus, who for the sake of honour returned to Carthage, where he was tortured to death (2,65). This is the challenge which Torquatus has to face and to which Cicero returns at the end of the discussion (2,118): which of the two embodied the preferable ideal? In an interesting contribution, A. Brinton has pointed to the rhetorical power of this argument57. Almost instinctively, many would opt for the alternative of M. Regulus. One feels that his ideal is more noble, more praiseworthy than that of Thorius. Cicero himself argues that a man like Thorius may be called callidus, but not bonus (leg. 1,41 and Att. 7,2,4). Again, many would probably agree. One should note, however, that there is much at stake here. Cicero in the end builds his whole case on the basic dilemma which is concretised in these two extreme examples, so that the instinctive preference for M. Regulus may well imply a radical refutation of Epicurus’ moral philosophy (2,44). (1988).

57

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But Cicero was a brilliant advocate who perfectly knew how to manipulate his audience. It is wise to suspend our judgement for a moment and first turn to Epicurus. Which alternative would he choose? Neither. He would like to insist indeed that Thorius does not personify the Epicurean ideal. Cicero brings the whole matter to a head (as he himself admits), but it cannot be excluded a priori that it is precisely these un-Epicurean characteristics (2,64: cupiditates non Epicuri divisione finiebat sed sua satietate) which make Thorius less sympathetic. A figure such as Thorius may indeed be called callidus rather than bonus, but is this also true for the Epicurean sage? There can be little doubt that the Epicureans would prefer their own ideal to that of M. Regulus. Metrodorus explicitly argues that there is no need to save Greece but to gratify the belly without harming it (Plutarch, Non posse 1098CD and 1100D; Adv. Colot. 1125D = fr. 41 K.; cf. also SV 76). It is true that such a value scale is quite offensive in this radical form – something which Timocrates realised very well – but it leaves little room for doubt concerning the preference of the Epicureans. One cannot but recognise that the choice of the Epicurean sage is far from irrational and that he himself is probably much more sympathetic than a radical hedonist such as Thorius. Yet one may be left with feelings of dissatisfaction. Should we indeed consider the Epicurean ideal to be higher than that of M. Regulus? Again, we feel that Regulus in the end accomplished greater things. I do not think that Epicurus himself would deny this. He could recognise that Regulus’ conduct provided evidence of his impressive devotion to duty, but he would add that his virtuous action was unnecessary, being the direct consequence of his political career and his pursuit of an empty ideal. Cicero himself makes a somewhat similar point when he argues that T. Albucius bore his exile with perfect tranquillity, but that he could have avoided his banishment if he had followed Epicurus’ advice not to engage in politics (Tusc. 5,108). The unhappy fate of people like M. Regulus precisely shows the strength of the Epicurean alternative, which as a rule does not ask such self-sacrifice from its adherents. Cicero claims that M. Regulus’ conduct was not merely more glorious, but that he himself was happier too. Epicurus would never agree with this and his position is stronger than we may be inclined to admit. Few would contest Cicero’s claim that one can be happy if one accomplishes glorious deeds such as those of Regulus, but the question is whether one needs to accomplish such deeds in order to be happy, and whether one is happier if one accomplishes them than if one does not accomplish them. When the problem is formulated in such terms, the answer becomes far less evident. Everything in the end depends on one’s personal value scale, which is itself rooted in a more fundamental perspective. There the discussion ends, before it really started.


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2.2.5. Cicero’s final argument concerns the problem of the ‘universalisability’ of Epicurus’ philosophy (to use a Kantian concept). In the second book of his De finibus, Cicero strongly emphasises that Torquatus can never profess his philosophy before the people, nor in the senate, nor in a lawcourt (2,74). He will be forced to adopt the vocabulary of the Peripatetics and the Stoics in his public life, while relegating his true opinions to his private life (2,76). He will, in Cicero’s words, “change his opinions like his clothes, one set to use at home, another one for public use” (2,77). Exactly the same argument occurs in Tusc. 3,51. The importance of Cicero’s objection has been pointed out by B. Inwood. In his view, “the argument rests on the assumption, widely held by philosophers in the ancient world and in the modern world too, and probably true, that moral values are the public, shared beliefs of a community, that a moral belief not widely shared is mere idiosyncracy. [...] If an ethical doctrine is true, it ought to be public and shared. If it is new, it must win authority by being argued for in public. Epicurus, oddly enough, did not see fit to present his views to the community and argue for them in this way: λαθὲ [sic] βιώσας, the injunction to avoid the public gaze, was also a license to evade the obligation to seek public and general acceptance of hedonism. The point Cicero is pressing rhetorically is a valid one, one that the Epicureans never answered. Epicurean hedonism and withdrawal could never be a universal ethical code. For an Epicurean life in a small group of reliable friends depends for its very existence on a non-Epicurean society.”58 It is clear that Inwood here introduces a particularly interesting problem, although his analysis in my view does not do justice to Epicurus’ intentions, nor does it do justice to the precise purpose and meaning of Cicero’s argument. We can be fairly certain that Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ was not intended as “a license to evade the obligation to seek public and general acceptance of hedonism” and that it had no direct connection at all with the problem of universalisability. Nor does Cicero deal with this problem. He rather advances an ad hominem argument which can be compared to those against Trebatius and Cassius discussed above (cf. supra, 2.2.3). Torquatus indeed engaged in politics59. He will have to express his political views and defend them in the senate, so he may well be forced to such dissimulatio. In that sense, Cicero’s point indeed is a valid one. However, if Torquatus gets into trouble by means of Cicero’s argument, Epicurus certainly does not. For Epicurus did not wish to defend his opinions (1990), 154-155. The discussion of the first two books of De finibus takes place when he was about to assume his praetorship; cf. 2,74. 58 59

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in the senate. In that sense, one could say that Cicero saddles Epicurus with a presupposition which the latter is not prepared to accept. Of course a gremium such like the senate will be rather unfavourably predisposed towards Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy, but this need not be a philosophically compelling argument. One may note that Cicero uses precisely the same argument against the Stoics as well (fin. 4,21-22), even if he had earlier (2,76) introduced them as good counterexamples, and I would add that an intelligent orator would probably be able to make the same point against all philosophical schools. Epicurus could easily reply that the values accepted in the senate cannot be universalised either, so that Cicero’s argument is in any case unconvincing, because it presupposes a biased standard of evaluation. Yet Inwood raised an interesting question. To what extent is Epicurus’ philosophy in principle universalisable (abstracting from its reception by particular, prejudiced audiences and/or readers)? I think there can be little doubt that Epicurus would have claimed it was60. He underlined that both young and old should seek wisdom (Epist. ad Men. 122) and that, given the importance of limitation, natural and necessary desires are easy to satisfy61. Yet as far as his apolitical philosophy is concerned, he may have to face a problem of universalisability. This appears from a last Ciceronian passage: Verum ego non quaero nunc, quae sit philosophia verissima, sed quae oratori coniuncta maxime. Quare istos sine ulla contumelia dimittamus; – sunt enim et boni viri et, quoniam sibi ita videntur, beati; – tantumque eos admoneamus, ut illud, etiam si est verissimum, tacitum tamen tamquam mysterium teneant, quod negant versari in re publica esse sapientis. nam si hoc nobis atque optimo cuique persuaserint, non poterunt ipsi esse, id quod maxime cupiunt, otiosi. (de orat. 3,64). “But the question I am asking now is not which philosophy is the truest, but which has the most affinity with the orator. So let us dismiss these people, but without insulting them, for they are good folk and, since they think so themselves, they are blissful as well. Let us merely remind them to keep their opinion to themselves, and guard it as a holy secret, even if it should be quite true – I mean their claim that it is not the part of a wise man to be involved in politics. If they convince us as well as all the best people of the truth of this, then they themselves will not be able to do what they desire most – that is, to live in undisturbed peace.” (transl. J.M. May – J. Wisse)

One may note in passing that Cicero himself often admits that Epicurus had a great many followers; cf. fin. 1,25; 2,49; 2,81; Tusc. 4,7; cf. also 3,50, but contrast 2,8. 61 See, e.g., Cicero, Tusc. 5,89 (= fr. 472 Us.) and 5,93 (= fr. 456 Us.); Seneca, epist. 18,9 (= fr. 158 Us.); Diog. Laert. 10,11. 60


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This passage is part of a broader survey of philosophical schools and their relation to the ideal orator. Epicurean philosophy proves to be quite remote from Cicero’s ideal and is brushed aside as irrelevant. This is an example of the same polemical technique as in leg. 1,39 and Tusc. 3,51. The passage is also a telling illustration of Cicero’s condescending attitude towards the Epicureans. His ‘kind’ recognition sunt boni viri of course suggests his own infinite intellectual and even moral superiority62. At the same time, his advice to the Epicureans to keep their apolitical philosophy to themselves tamquam mysterium is a far echo of Timocrates’ reference to the nocturnal ‘mystic’ reunions in the Garden (Diog. Laert. 10,6) and may again sow the seeds of suspicion about all the Epicureans’ secrets that cannot bear the light of day. Finally, one should note that Cicero’s argument in this passage is much more radical than his similar objections in fin. 2,74-77 and Tusc. 3,51, since he now does not focus on one particular gremium (the senate, the court, etc.) but on optimus quisque. What would happen if all the best men converted to Epicureanism? Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy appears to presuppose that there are always boni who secure otium for others (cf. Sest. 139; rep. 1,6 and 1,7). When such boni can no longer be found, the state will soon slide into a political chaos which also ruins the Epicureans’ ἀταραξία. In that sense, the universalisability of Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy can indeed be called into question. It is clear that Cicero here speaks as a pragmatic politician with a sober sense of reality. Again, one may well be inclined to agree, but again, it is wise not to be carried away by Cicero’s rhetorical appeal to plausibility. What would Epicurus’ reply to Cicero’s argument be? I think that from an Epicurean point of view, three points can be made against Cicero’s objection. First of all, Epicurus would be correct in underlining that there is no fundamental problem with the universalisability of his apolitical doctrine, since his philosophy allows everyone (including the profanum vulgus) to become Epicurean. It is clear of course that Epicurus neither expects nor pursues such a universal conversion – he never sought the favour of the multitude (fr. 187 Us.; cf. also frs. 208, 209 and 489 Us.) and argued that the sage can found a school, but not in order to draw a crowd (fr. 564 Us.) – but there is hardly anything in his philosophy which directly precludes it either. His system does not presuppose any παιδεία (cf. esp. fr. 163 Us. = Diog. Laert. 10,6 etc.) and appears to be open for every Greek63. Diogenes of Oenoanda went even further and depicted a Golden Age when everyone has become Epicurean (fr. 56, i, 1-12). Of course this ideal has not yet been realised and See also C. Lévy (2001), 68-69. Cf. Plutarch, De lat. viv. 1129A: μηδὲ διάπεμπε βίβλους πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις ἐπιδεικνύμενος τὴν σοφίαν; Seneca, epist. 14,18; but contrast epist. 7,11 (= fr. 208 Us.): haec ego non multis, sed tibi; satis enim magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus. 62 63

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may well always remain a utopian dream, but the fragment in any case shows that the Epicureans themselves had no doubts about the theoretical universalisability of their philosophy64. What if one, however, leaves such utopian dreams and turns to real life? What if all boni suddenly converted to Epicureanism in Cicero’s day? Such a general conversion would not be problematic at all if the profanum vulgus followed their example (then, the Golden Age would indeed begin). It is only when the great multitude does not imitate the example of the boni that a problem may arise. It is true of course that this is no longer a problem of universalisability in the true sense of the word (concerning everyone), but in a more pregnant sense (concerning optimus quisque). I think Epicurus would answer that such a general conversion of all the boni is as imaginary as the presupposition that a criminal can be sure of remaining undetected during the rest of his life. Cicero confronts Epicurus with a presupposition which the latter would regard as unreal and thus irrelevant. There will always be boni who remain unconvinced by Epicurus’ arguments and de facto take care of the preservation of social order. Epicurus could reply that everyone is free to follow his advice but that, rebus sic stantibus, he does not face any practical problem. Still one might insist with Cicero that there remains at least a theoretical problem. What if one, for the sake of argument, accepts Cicero’s imaginary presupposition? What if all boni (and they alone) do become Epicureans? In such unreal circumstances, one would presumably fall back into a more primitive phase of culture and society. Then, the Epicurean boni would have to look for new solutions. One should recall that the Epicurean advice to ‘live unnoticed’ did not hold in primitive times, when human beings collaborated with one another in order to avoid the threat of the beasts (Porphyry, Abst. 1,10,2-4 = Hermarchus, fr. 34 L.A.) and legislators secured the common interest through their laws65. If the sudden conversion of all boni would entail a relapse into a more primitive stage, Epicurus’ political doctrine may have to change for a short period. For the time being, however, the presupposition of Cicero’s objection is too unreal to trouble the Epicureans’ tranquillity of mind. 2.2.6. To conclude, when Hunt claimed that Cicero “did not advance any original point of view on Epicureanism”66, he expressed the communis opinio of that moment. Even a communis opinio can be subject to change, however. Meanwhile, Cicero’s personal approach has gradually received a more pos Cf. also Diogenes of Oenoanda, fr. 3, i, 10-13: ὅπερ ἐστὶν ἀταραξία, καὶ ἑνὶ καὶ πᾶσι τὸ αὐτό ἐστιν. 65 Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1124D; Prophyry, Abst. 1,8,2; 1,10,2; 1,10,4-11,1 = Hermarchus, fr. 34 L.A.; Lucretius, 5,1143-1144. 66 (1954), 210. 64


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itive evaluation, and in general, his anti-Epicurean polemics have been rehabilitated to a certain degree67. The above analyses may contribute to this process of partial rehabilitation. One of Cicero’s greatest merits in this context is no doubt his intellectual fairness. At his best moments, he was not blind to the strong points of Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy. In de orat. 3,63, he admits that Epicurus’ advice to abandon political life may be wise in the contemporary political circumstances (fortasse sapienter, hac praesertim republica) and in one of his letters, he regards tacere and latere as means to avoid conflicts with Caesar (Att. 13,31,3). In the first book of his De finibus, he gives attention to the Epicurean analysis of the empty and unlimited desires of the politician (1,59 and 60). Torquatus even argues that such vain passions ruined the state (1,4344). Cicero does not return to this particular argument in his polemical reply of book 2, presumably because he knew that it was true. It is fair to add, though, that Cicero’s intellectual fairness often has to yield to all kinds of unjustified insults and belittling attacks. In spite of his own repeated assertion (fin. 1,13 and 2,8), his goal is often refutation rather than truth. For Cicero, Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy is not merely a theoretical problem. His anti-Epicurean arguments are often influenced by his personal experience and are strongly conditioned by his own fundamental presuppositions. This no doubt made his objections unconvincing for orthodox Epicureans. They are in the end rooted in a completely different ideal of life, and convince only the already convinced. Yet, his arguments are more than mere self-assurance and confirmation of his own view. From his own perspective, he is able to point to difficulties and blind spots in his opponent’s philosophy, and can confront him with intelligent and interesting questions which force him to make his position more explicit and/or nuanced. Above all, Cicero’s anti-Epicurean polemic is interesting because it allows us a glance into Cicero’s own soul and enables us to get to know him in all his vanity and selflove, but also with his sincerest convictions, purest intentions, and highest ideals. 2.3. The Stoa 2.3.1. Early Stoicism The Stoics are widely known as the most fervent opponents of Epicurean philosophy. Their anti-Epicurean polemics can be traced back to a fairly early stage of the school. Regarding the earliest period, however, we hardly have any information. There remains only the much discussed testimony See, e.g., B. Inwood (1990) and M.C. Stokes (1995); cf. G. Patzig (1979), 317-

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318.

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concerning Polyaenus that he could count on the benevolence of members of other philosophical schools, including the Stoics68. From this fragment it has often been inferred that the two schools at the outset maintained excellent relations with one another and refrained from attacking each other’s convictions69. For such a conclusion, however, compelling evidence is lacking70. We simply have no sources that provide adequate information concerning the whole question and an argumentum e silentio (we know of no early Stoic attack on Epicurus) is unconvincing because of the complete loss of so many treatises. One may add that the lack of any context in the testimony concerning Polyaenus does not even allow us to attain a clear picture of Polyaenus’ own relations with the Stoics. Regarding Zeno’s position towards Epicurus, we can only conclude, then, that we know nothing for certain. Cleanthes was already critical of hedonistic philosophy71 and it is far from unlikely that Epicurus was one of his main targets. But we do not know how systematic Cleanthes’ polemical attacks actually were, nor do we have any information about his position towards Epicurus’ ideal of an ‘unnoticed life’. On the other hand, we may presume that Chrysippus’ anti-Epicurean polemic was fairly systematic. He wrote no less than four books in order to prove that pleasure should not be regarded as the final end, and another four to show that it is not a good (Diog. Laert. 7,202). In addition, he more than once referred to the founder of the Garden in negative terms72, and we even have some evidence that he also attacked Epicurus’ ideal of a sequestered life. Joly has pointed to several interesting opposite parallels between Epicurus’ Περὶ βίων and Chrysippus’ work with the same title, and concluded that the Stoic there refuted the Epicurean ideal in a systematic way73. This theory, ingenious though it may be74, needs some qualification in that Epicurus was probably not Chrysippus’ only target. In a precious passage, Plutarch informs us that Chrysippus refused to regard the scholastic life as the central aim for the philosopher, on the ground that such a life in the end does not differ at all from a life devoted to pleasure (De Stoic. rep. 1033CD = SVF 3,702). It is clear that Chrysippus’ polemic rests on a rejection of pleasure as an ideal. But Plutarch gathers this fragment not from book 1 (where it would 68 Scriptor Epicur. incert., PHerc. 176, fr. 5, col. xxiv, 4-13 = fr. 156 Us. or Polyaenus, fr. 15 T.G. 69 See, e.g., P.H. De Lacy (1948), 13-14; R. Westman (1955), 82-84; A. Grilli (1963), 301; E. Bignone (1973), I, 51, n. 119 and II, 181-187. 70 Cf. A. Angeli (1993), 17-18. 71 See, e.g., Cicero, fin. 2,69 and Augustine, civ. 5,20 = SVF 1,553. 72 See, e.g., Athenaeus, 3, 104b and 7, 278ef (= SVF 3,709); Stobaeus, 4,20a,31 (= SVF 3,720); Eusebius, PE 6,7,41 (= SVF 2,978); cf. also E. Bignone (1973), I, 591-594. 73 (1956), 144. 74 It has been accepted by H. Cherniss (1976), 416-417 (note c); cf. also M. Schofield (1999), 741.


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have been found if Chrysippus’ Περὶ βίων was systematically and exclusively directed against Epicurus) but from book 4, and the passage itself shows that Chrysippus attacks Aristotle no less than Epicurus75. Elsewhere in the same book, Chrysippus also argued that the prudent man is both ἀπράγμων and ὀλιγοπράγμων (De Stoic. rep. 1043B = SVF 3,703). This is a strange fragment, in spite of Plutarch’s claim to offer a verbatim quotation (ἔστι δὲ ἡ λέξις αὕτη). Plutarch himself connects this tenet with another one, viz. that the quiet life contains something safe and secure (ibid. = SVF 3,704), and opposes these doctrines to Chrysippus’ conviction that the sage will assume kingship himself or dwell with a king (1043BC = SVF 3,691). Unfortunately the three quotations are given without any context. The third one is by far the least problematic. It is perfectly in line with the general Stoic doctrine that the sage participates in political life (e.g. Diog. Laert. 7,121 = SVF 3,697; Seneca, dial. 8,3,2 = SVF 1,271) and that political engagement is κατὰ φύσιν (Dio of Prusa, 47,2 = SVF 1,28). The second quotation can be understood as a mere concession that a sequestered life entails less dangers, but need not imply that such a κατὰ τὴν ἡσυχίαν βίος should be regarded as an absolute ideal. There need not be a real inconsistency here. The first quotation, however, is more difficult. The combination of φρόνιμον and ἀπράγμονα recalls popular opinions such as those expressed in Euripides (TrGF 5.2, fr. 787) and discussed in Aristotle (EN 6, 1142a1-11); the term ὀλιγοπράγμονα rather calls to mind Democritus’ famous advice of μὴ πολλὰ πρήσσειν (68 B 3 DK). In light of Chrysippus’ extensive use of quotations (Diog. Laert. 7,180-181 and 10,27), it cannot be excluded that this fragment was closely connected to some such quotation. It is also possible that Chrysippus’ words were qualified further on, or that his argument only holds for special circumstances. However that may be, it in any case remains extremely unlikely that Chrysippus advocated an ideal similar to that of Epicurus. 2.3.2. Seneca 2.3.2.1. The first more extensive Stoic evaluation of the Epicurean ideal of a sequestered life that has come down to us is to be found in the works of Seneca. His view on this subject is no less interesting than that of Cicero’s. It is well-known that he is often fairly positive about Epicurus. He endorses many of his doctrines and indeed frequently quotes him with approval76, thus showing that he is not led by aprioris dominated by philosophical schools, but rather independently judges each doctrine on its own value and degree of Cf. also E. Brown (1997), 236, n. 6 and 259, n. 54. It is striking that no philosopher is more frequently quoted nominatim than precisely Epicurus (who is cited by name even more than Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus together); cf. A.L. Motto – J.R. Clark (1968), 39. 75 76

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truth77. As such, he appears to fulfil all of the conditions for an open-minded and fair evaluation of Epicurus’ doctrine. One should add that Seneca himself usually endorses the ideal of otium, which he explicitly recommends to Paulinus (dial. 10,18,1-19,2)78 and to Lucilius79. In his youth, he did not seem to be particularly enthusiastic to engage in politics80. Later he twice asked Nero to be allowed to withdraw, and although his request was twice refused81, he more and more abandoned public life. The question remains, to be sure, as to what extent Seneca regarded the attractive82 ideal of otium, which he himself pursued, as a typically Epicurean ideal. 2.3.2.2. The answer should be nuanced. We of course know that otium was not the privileged ideal of the Epicureans alone. Seneca himself no doubt knew this too. Yet he more than once explicitly associates his ideal of a quiet, leisured life with that of Epicurus’ (dial. 8,1,4; epist. 68,10; cf. also 8,1 and 22,5-6). Particularly interesting in this respect is dial. 10,14,1-2, where Seneca argues that we have the considerable advantage to be able to learn from our predecessors. We can argue with Socrates, doubt with Carneades, live a peaceful life with Epicurus, overcome human nature with the Stoics, and exceed it with the Cynics (disputare cum Socrate licet, dubitare cum Carneade, cum Epicuro quiescere, hominis naturam cum Stoicis vincere, cum Cynicis excedere). This is a well-considered selection of some central doctrines of different great philosophers. In Epicurus’ case, Seneca strikingly does not opt for voluptatibus frui or something similar – he vehemently disagreed with Epicurus’ doctrine of voluptas83 – but for quiescere. The quiet life thus appears as a typically Epicurean ideal which, moreover, is worth pursuing. One could object that Seneca merely selected this doctrine pour le besoin de la cause, since it is perfectly in line with the general subject matter H. Freise (1989); E. Hachmann (1996), 394-397. According to M.T. Griffin (1976), 320, “it seems likely that at least a secondary purpose of the work was to save public appearances for Seneca and his father-in-law when the latter had to surrender his post for reasons of court politics”. If that is true, his arguments are not directly relevant for his own philosophical position. 79 See, e.g., epist. 19,1; 22,1 and 3; 68,1 (absconde te in otio); nat. 4A, praef. 3 and 20. 80 M.T. Griffin (1976), 46-47. 81 Tacitus, ann. 14,53-56 and 15,45; cf. Octavia 377-390 and Suetonius, Nero 35,5. 82 The attractiveness of this ideal also appears from Thy. 393-403 (adopted by Usener among the testimonies of the Epicurean ideal of an ‘unnoticed life’; fr. 551), which has been regarded as “una contingente ‘confessione’ politico-morale dell’autore”; C. Monteleone (1991), 339-342; cf. also O. Herzog (1928), 73-74 and E. Lefèvre (1985), 1281: “Ohne Frage aber kann man in der Distanzierung des Chors von der Macht in den Versen 391-403 eine Überzeugung Senecas erblicken.” 83 See H. Freise (1989), 543-545 and E. Hachmann (1996), 398-402. 77 78


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of the treatise and with the final advice to retire. Such an objection, however, is invalidated by the references to the other key doctrines (disputare, dubitare, etc.), which do not have the same close connection with the subject matter and final advice. We can only conclude, then, that in this passage at least, Seneca acknowledges that Epicurus’ ideal of a quiet life can for him be a source of inspiration. In De otio, he deals with the subject in a more theoretical vein. Here too, he underlines that otium is an Epicurean ideal (1,4), but adds that it is no less a Stoic one (2,1). He shows that it can perfectly be reconciled with some basic Stoic doctrines84 and recalls that the Stoics accept exceptional circumstances under which the sage better abstains from politics (3,2-4)85. He even argues that such a withdrawal is for a Stoic the necessary option, given the bad political situation of the moment (8,1-4)86. Thus, Epicureans and Stoics, in spite of their great differences, in the end both lead us to basically the same ideal: Duae maxime et in hac re dissident sectae, Epicureorum et Stoicorum, sed utraque ad otium diversa via mittit. Epicurus ait: “Non accedet ad rem publicam sapiens, nisi si quid intervenerit”; Zenon ait: “Accedet ad rem publicam, nisi si quid impedierit”. Alter otium ex proposito petit, alter ex causa; causa autem illa late patet. (dial. 8,3,2-3 = fr. 9 Us. and ~ SVF 1,271) “The two sects, the Epicureans and the Stoics, are at variance, as in most things, in this matter also; they both direct us to leisure, but by different roads. Epicurus says: “The wise man will not engage in public affairs unless something occurs”. Zeno says: “He will engage in public affairs unless something prevents him”. The one seeks leisure by fixed purpose, the other for a special cause; but the term “cause” has here a broad application.” (transl. J.W. Basore, modified) This passage shows how Seneca actually tries to reconcile the antithetical claims of the two schools. The ways they propose prove to be different, to be 84 He distinguishes, for instance, between two res publicae, a more general one, which embraces both gods and men, and the more particular one in which we live (cf. also epist. 68,2 and 120,12). A man who withdraws from the latter can still serve the former – even better (dial. 8,4,1-2). Seneca further argues that even a life in otio involves action (6,3-5). More material in M.T. Griffin (1976), 329-331. 85 The same doctrine can be found in Diog. Laert. 7,121 = SVF 3,697; cf. also Seneca, epist. 68,2. 86 According to M.T. Griffin (1976), 332-333 and 344, Seneca does not like this particular causa, but neither the term fastidiose in 8,1, nor the final sentence of De otio shows explicit disagreement with Chrysippus; cf. also I. Dionigi (1983), 273-274; E. Brown (1997), 288, n. 108; G.D. Williams (2003), 113.

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sure, but ultimately they arrive at the same destination. The passage thus provides a clear illustration of a typical aspect of Seneca’s position towards Epicurus, that is, his irenic, reconciliatory attitude87. Of course Seneca was no Epicurean88. Adopting Seneca’s own rhetorical style, one could say that Seneca would rather be prepared to regard Epicurus as a Stoic (at least on some points) than to regard himself as an Epicurean. Perhaps more accurately, one could argue that he often considered the Epicurean position to be basically correct, and thus worth appropriating: quod verum est, meum est (epist. 12,11; cf. 16,7). It is exactly this attitude which he wishes to instil in Lucilius and his other readers. For indeed, Seneca’s open-minded position has an important pedagogical aspect as well, showing as it does how to look for the truth in a frank and unprejudiced way, without being conditioned in advance by the boundaries of the different philosophical schools. 2.3.2.3. The above discussed passages might create the impression that Seneca’s position towards Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy was fairly positive. Such a conclusion, however, would be one-sided, for Seneca’s judgement is much more nuanced and in fact contains both positive and negative elements. This appears both from his more concrete interpretation of the ideal of otium and from his view on how to assume it. Both topics deserve a more detailed examination. a) Seneca’s concrete interpretation of otium. First of all, one’s otium should be devoted to two main tasks, that is, moral progress and contemplation. The former is an important component of a sequestered life. Quid in otio facio?, Seneca asks himself, and he answers: ulcus meum curo (epist. 68,8). Withdrawal from the multitude and from political occupations amounts to withdrawal into oneself. In that sense, otium is the direct road towards interiorised ethics (cf. 7,12 and 56,11-12). It entails a conversation with oneself (68,6) and makes room for true friendship (19,10-12). On this point, there is hardly any difference between Seneca and Epicurus, who also emphasised the importance of curing oneself (SV 64). Moral progress was of paramount importance in the Garden, as Seneca no doubt knew very well. He himself refers to Epicurus’ well-known advice to appoint a guardian for oneself89 and to his classification of proficientes (epist. 52,3-4). It is clear, then, that Seneca’s understanding of otium as a means for moral progress can perfectly be reconciled with the Epicurean position. On the other hand, one’s otium should also be devoted to theoretical 87 Cf., e.g., dial. 2,16,1-3; 7,13,1-2; 8,7,1-3; epist. 21,9; 29,11; 33,2; 66,47; 81,11; 92,25. 88 H. Mutschmann (1915), 323 and R. Schottlaender (1955), 140 obviously exaggerate Epicurus’ influence on Seneca; see H. Freise (1989), 543-546; E. Hachmann (1995), 15 and 235-237; Id. (1996), 397-402. 89 See epist. 25,5 = fr. 211 Us.: sic fac [...] omnia, tamquam spectet Epicurus; cf. 11,8 (= fr. 210 Us.). Seneca gives the same advice also in 32,1 and 83,1.


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study, to the contemplation of nature90. Such study is even the necessary condition for being otiosus (dial. 10,14,1: soli omnium otiosi sunt qui sapientiae vacant). This redefinition is important in that it inextricably connects otium with contemplation and thus presupposes a fundamental opposition between actio and contemplatio as the only two possible alternatives (cf. dial. 9,7,2). In this, Seneca’s position differs from that of Epicurus, who opted for the βίος ἀπολαυστικός as the tertium quid. Yet, this fundamental difference is to a certain extent explained away by Seneca himself in his De otio. He there argues that the three traditional kinds of life all come to the same thing, since they all contain in their own way pleasure, contemplation, and action (7,1-3)91. In actual practice, the three ideals are much closer to one another than in theory. This is again a telling example of Seneca’s irenic attitude. In Seneca’s own view, then, even his interpretation of otium as otiosa contemplatio can perfectly be reconciled with that of Epicurus. There is, however, still a further condition which has to be fulfilled, that is, one’s otium has to be useful92. As a direct result, otium and a political life approach one another even more closely. In a certain sense, everyone who benefits others during his otium enters public life93. This redefinition of engaging in public life also enables Seneca to defend Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus against an attack on their inconsistency. It is true that, in spite of their advice to participate in politics, they never entered political life themselves94, but they actually accomplished greater things. Their usefulness for the whole of mankind fully legitimises their decision (dial. 8,6,4-5). Instead of opting for such lifelong otium, one can also turn to the peace of a quiet life after a rich political career95. It is this alternative which is chosen by Paulinus (10,18,1) and by Lucilius and Seneca himself (epist. 19,1-2). For them, the problem of personal usefulness is less urgent of course, and they can in the evening of their lives sail into the harbour of a richly deserved otium (ibid.: in freto viximus, moriamur in portu). It is with this great emphasis on one’s personal usefulness for the state that a clear indication of a basically un-Epicurean position can be found. This is not to say that all Epicureans were completely disinterested in the way in which their philosophy could contribute to the public interest. Philo90 See, e.g., dial. 8,2,1; 9,7,2 (otioso studio contemplationique); 10,19,1-2; epist. 8,1 and 82,3-4. 91 Thus he is even more radical than Chrysippus, who connected the pleasant and the contemplative life; cf. Plutarch, De Stoic. rep. 1033CD = SVF 3,702; supra, 2.3.1. 92 See, e.g., dial. 8,3,5; 8,6,2-4; 9,4,7-8; epist. 8,1-6; 14,14; 68,10; benef. 4,13,1-2; cf. also Athenodorus’ position in dial. 9,3,3-6. 93 Dial. 8,3,5: nam cum se utilem ceteris efficit, commune agit negotium; cf. again Athenodorus’ position in 9,3,3: in privato publicum negotium agit. 94 Seneca alludes to this problem in dial. 8,1,5 and 9,1,10; epist. 68,1; cf. also Plutarch, De Stoic. rep. 1033B-E. 95 The two alternatives are opposed in dial. 8,2,1-2.

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demus, for instance, more than once shows how the Epicureans succeed in benefiting their fellow citizens96. Nevertheless, it is not unlikely that such arguments were at least partly developed in reply to the polemical attacks of other philosophical schools97. Seneca’s preoccupation with personal usefulness is much more in line with his own Stoic perspective than with that of Epicurus’. Whereas the latter would regard such usefulness at best as a sideeffect of his philosophical way of life that is not directly intended, the former considers it to be a conditio sine qua non of meaningful otium. It is clear, then, that Seneca’s ‘Epicurean’ ideal of otium is thoroughly reoriented towards a Stoic perspective. At the same time, the typically Epicurean interpretation of otium fades into the background. Seneca strongly rejects any otium which is merely pursued for the sake of pleasure without contributing anything at all to the public interest (dial. 8,6,1; epist. 55,5 and 73,6). The occasional outburst against Epicurus’ philosophy quae civem extra patriam posuit (epist. 90,35) should be understood in this perspective as well. This, to a certain extent, is no more than a polemical exaggeration, for Epicurus was no more extra patriam than the thousands of anonymous citizens in Athens. Still Seneca might reply that in a certain sense he was, since his abstention from politics was not involuntary, but the result of a conscious and deliberate decision. Along this line of interpretation, the polemical paraphrase should not be understood as an attack against Epicurus’ lack of patriotism – according to Diog. Laert. 10,10, Epicurus was a real patriot – nor against the subversive character of his philosophy. Rather, it should be seen only as a somewhat maliciously phrased reference to his apolitical doctrine, which is not further discussed, but is clearly regarded as inferior to the Stoic position. The egoistic focus on personal pleasure also entails, in Seneca’s view, a life of inertia98. Here too, Seneca’s interpretation of otium proves diametrically opposed to (what he regards as) the Epicurean position (dial. 10,18,2 and epist. 36,2). A case in point is benef. 4,13,1: Vobis voluptas est inertis otii facere corpusculum et securitatem sopitis simillimam appetere et sub densa umbra latitare tenerrimisque cogitationibus, quas tranquillitatem vocatis, animi marcentis oblectare torporem et cibis potionibusque intra hortorum latebram corpora ignavia pallentia saginare. “You count it pleasure to surrender your miserable body to sluggish ease, to court a repose that differs not much from sleep, to lurk in a covert of 96 See G. Roskam (2007), 121-125. For possible influence of Philodemus on Seneca, see M. Gigante (2000). 97 Although they may also have served a psychagogical purpose; cf. supra, 1.2.2d. 98 See, e.g., benef. 4,4,1; dial. 2,14,4; the link is most clearly established by Athenodorus in dial. 9,3,7.


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thick shade and beguile the lethargy of a languid mind with the most delicate thoughts, which you call tranquillity, and in the secret retreats of your gardens to stuff with food and drink your bodies that are pallid from inaction.” (trans. J.W. Basore) This passage contains the gist of Seneca’s objections to the Epicurean ideal. The overall impression it creates is one of utter langour and passivity. The Garden’s otium is entirely inactive and apathetic (inertis otii; sopitis simillimam; marcentis; torporem; ignavia). The only thing that really matters is eating and drinking. This is no place for virtue, brilliant achievements, or honour. The Epicureans actually hide themselves (latitare; latebram), a clear reference to their ideal of ‘living unnoticed’. The thick shade of the trees99 or the wall of their garden has to conceal their general lethargy. The difference with the Stoic alternative, which combines dynamic vitality with usefulness (13,2), can hardly be greater. A somewhat similar polemic is to be found in epist. 55 about the villa of Vatia. This praetorian millionaire there led a sequestered life, avoiding all the troubles inherent in politics (55,3). For Seneca, however, Vatia did not give evidence of savoir vivre: latere sciebat, non vivere; his life was not otiosa, but ignava100, and actually was closer to death than to life (4). It is clear that Vatia’s interpretation of otium strongly resembles the Epicurean one attacked in benef. 4,13,1101, and is diametrically opposed to Seneca’s own. We may conclude, then, that two different interpretations of the ideal of otium can be found in Seneca’s works. They are schematically presented as follows: otium

correct understanding Seneca’s own position

moral progress

contemplatio (which, however, also includes actio)

wrong understanding the ‘Epicurean’ position

            voluptas

inertia

99 For the connection between otium and umbra, see also epist. 33,8 and 36,1 (umbram et otium); benef. 4,2,1 (the Epicureans as umbratica turba) and 4,30,4; further background is found in P.L. Smith (1965). 100 But cf. 55,7: otium suum pigrum iam et senile. 101 It is interesting to note that both J.M. André (1969), 478 and R. Degl’Innocenti Pierini (1992), 165 interpret Seneca’s discussion of Vatia’s way of living as an attack against Epicurus’ ideal of λάθε βιώσας.

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Although this scheme has the advantage of illustrating the opposition between both interpretations of otium fairly well, it calls for an important caveat. As has been shown by the above discussion, Seneca is far less clear about the place taken by Epicurus than the scheme suggests. He more than once subsumes Epicurus under the positive pole and acknowledges that several aspects of the Epicurean position are perfectly in line with his own ideal. In such cases, he is even prepared to learn from Epicurus. It is only to the extent that there are negative elements such as voluptas and inertia, which can be ascribed to the Epicurean interpretation of otium, that the Epicurean position might be rejected by Seneca. b) how should one assume otium? In reply to Athenodorus, Seneca underlines that one should avoid rash decisions and prefer a gradual approach. The former argued that, due to the bad (moral) condition of the state one should completely withdraw from politics in order to benefit other people as a private person (dial. 9,3,2-6). For Seneca, this solution is too radical. Athenodorus throws in the towel too quickly. One will do better by looking for other solutions in order to be useful for one’s fellow citizens in public life (4,1-8). The ideal is not complete otium but a combination of withdrawal and public engagement: miscere otium rebus (4,8). Although the positions of Seneca and Athenodorus are very close to each other, to my mind Seneca is more in line with the spirit of the orthodox Stoic point of view in that he regards complete withdrawal as a real exception rather than as an exception turned into a rule. The same gradual withdrawal is recommended to Lucilius (epist. 22,3 and 8; cf. also 19,1). In this case, Seneca explicitly and with approval refers to Epicurus’ advice. The latter advised Idomeneus to flee from politics as fast as he could, yet added that he should not make a premature and hasty decision, but rather wait for the καιρός (22,5-6 = fr. 133 Us.). Once again, Seneca is prepared to learn from Epicurus. By approving Epicurus’ advice, however, he at the same time departs from the orthodox Stoic position which he defends against Athenodorus in De tranquillitate animi. He twice recommends a gradual approach, to be sure, but the underlying motivation is radically different in the two cases. In De tranquillitate animi, the emphasis is entirely on one’s personal usefulness for the state. In this context, otium appears as a δεύτερος πλοῦς which should be postponed as long as possible. In epist. 22, on the other hand, it is an ideal that should be reached as quickly as possible, and any delay is only inspired by a concern for safety rather than by the demand for usefulness. It is true of course that the problem discussed in the above-mentioned section of De tranquillitate animi (whether or not to engage in public affairs) is no longer urgent in epist. 22, since Lucilius has apparently made up his mind and expressed his preference for otium (cf. 22,1), but the fact remains that Seneca in the letter adopts a position that is in the end Epicurean rather than Stoic.


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One may add in passing that this concern for securitas does not merely condition the way in which one has to withdraw, but that it also motivates the ideal of otium itself (epist. 14,10). In this respect as well, Seneca’s position is in line with that of Epicurus. Yet even concerning the demand for safety, differences remain. In the case of Lucilius and Seneca, a completely unnoticed life as a means to reach ἀσφάλεια ἐξ ἡσυχίας (RS 14) is not the appropriate alternative. For Lucilius is already famous, so that the ideal of living unnoticed is no real option for him any longer (epist. 19,3-4; cf. also clem. 1,8,1 and 4 on Nero). This provides an important difference. The marked withdrawal of a famous person is a statement in itself and can even be understood as an indication of political disapproval and opposition102. Lucilius will have to avoid that his otium is misunderstood. In order to do so, he will have to conceal his otium (epist. 68,1-3)103. He should not boast of it (for that would be nimis latere; 68,5), but should pursue a subtle balance: id age, ut otium tuum non emineat, sed appareat (19,2). It is clear that Seneca’s advice derives its relevance and meaning from his own social position and from that of his correspondent. Their situation no longer enables them to pursue a quiet life just like that. I would like to add that it cannot be excluded that Epicurus would have agreed on this point. It is striking in any case that he did not advise Idomeneus to burn his ships and simply take refuge in the Garden. He may well have taken into account his friend’s position and the possible consequences of such a rash decision. 2.3.2.4. Epicurus himself of course did not face such problems. He did not have to bother about the political implications of withdrawing from politics, but could enjoy the pleasures of his quiet life in the company of his friends. Seneca explicitly refers to Epicurus’ own ‘unnoticed life’ in epist. 79,15 (= fr. 188 Us.), recalling Epicurus’ statement that he had suffered no harm from having remained unknown in Greece. No trace of criticism or disagreement can be found in this passage. Yet Seneca here too follows his own path. Epicurus’ example is used in order to show that ... nulla virtus latet (79,17; cf. Athenodorus’ position in dial. 9,3,6). In such a perspective, latere is no longer understood in an Epicurean way. In spite of Seneca’s own statement (79,17: et latuisse non ipsius est damnum), the context of the whole passage shows that the term latere has for Seneca a fairly negative connotation. It refers to the absence of well-deserved fame and often has to yield to the justified and rewarding praise which comes from later generations. Living unnoticed is not regarded as a means to reach security and tranquillity of mind, even less as an ideal in itself, but as an unfavourable condition that need not harm one’s happiness (an ἀποπροηγμένον, to use the technical term). Cf. M.T. Griffin (1976), 362-366, on Thrasea Paetus’ withdrawal. For instance, by pointing to ill health as an excuse, as Seneca did himself; cf. Tacitus, ann. 14,56 and 15,45. 102 103

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Here too, Epicurean motifs are introduced in a different, that is Stoic, perspective. 2.3.2.5. To conclude, Seneca presents himself as a confirmed advocate of the ideal of otium, and both his interpretation of otium and his view on how to assume it are at least partly inspired by Epicurus’ philosophy. Yet Seneca was no absolute adherent of the Epicurean ideal of λάθε βιώσας. His conceptual framework, ultimate goals, and general outlook on life are often diametrically opposed to Epicureanism, but he feels free to adopt whatever seems useful to him. In order to illustrate his way of dealing with Epicurus’ philosophy, Seneca himself makes a comparison with regards to his conduct in the senate. If someone has made a motion which he partly approves, he asks the man to make the motion in two parts and then votes for the part he approves (epist. 21,9). This famous comparison can also be applied to Epicurus’ apolitical doctrine. In general, Seneca is rather positive about the Epicurean ‘motion’ of otium, but before ‘voting’ for it, he first gets rid of several important elements and adopts and reorients others towards his own Stoic perspective. We may take Seneca’s comparison a little further. Seneca has appropriated several elements of the Epicurean motion and voted for them. The question remains as to what extent he has done justice to the original motion. Would the Epicurean who introduced the motion be satisfied with the outcome of the debate? I doubt it. It is much more likely that he in turn would be inclined to approve one part of the new motion and reject another part. Moreover, the unsuccessful part of the original motion will end up in the archives, where it becomes at best food for historians. An experienced statesman such as Seneca knew that such a division of the motion is often more efficient than a vehement attack on it. What he could not foresee, however, is that precisely such an approach would entail, several centuries later in the period of Neoplatonism, not only the loss of so many Epicurean doctrines, but of the central part of Stoic philosophy as well. 2.3.3. Epictetus Epictetus, who was an almost perfect contemporary of Plutarch104, deals with Epicurus’ philosophy in a completely different way. In the extant Discourses, he always refers to Epicurus in the most negative terms105. He strongly rejects the Epicurean doctrine of pleasure, emphasising that the good should not be sought in the flesh but in one’s volition or προαίρεσις

104 On a possible reference to Plutarch in Epictetus, 2,20,27 see M. Cuvigny (1969) and J. Opsomer (1997b), 24-28. 105 See R. Laurenti (1960) for a general survey; cf. also J.-M. André (1987), 40.


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(2,23,20-22; 3,7,2-9; cf. 1,20,17-19)106. He also attacks Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy on the basis of two arguments which complete and clarify one another. a) The first argument is proposed in a difficult passage which deserves to be quoted in full: διὰ τοῦτο φησὶν οὐδὲ πολιτεύσεσθαι τὸν νοῦν ἔχοντα· οἶδεν γὰρ τίνα δεῖ ποιεῖν τὸν πολιτευόμενον· ἐπείτοι εἰ ὡς ἐν μυίαις μέλλεις ἀναστρέφεσθαι, τί κωλύει; (1,23,6) “For this reason he says that a man of sense will not engage in politics either, for he knows what things a politician should do. Well, it is true, if you are going to behave as if you were among flies, there’s nothing to prevent you.” (translation R.F. Dobbin) Epictetus’ line of reasoning in this passage is extremely concise and rather obscure. The words διὰ τοῦτο at the beginning probably refer back to Epicurus’ most fundamental choice for pleasure as the final goal of his philosophy (cf. 1-2). If that is true, Epicurus’ apolitical view is correctly107 regarded as the direct implication of his doctrine of pleasure. The following general phrase οἶδεν γὰρ κτλ. can then be understood as a vague allusion to the many efforts and dangers which a politician has to endure. Epictetus thus presents the argument of his opponent fairly well. Epicurus indeed rejects political engagement because it usually does not contribute to pleasure. Epictetus’ basic problem with this apolitical position is that it is at odds with the social nature of man. In his Stoic view, this social nature is beyond dispute108. He even suggests that Epicurus himself understood perfectly well that we are social beings by nature, but that he had to give up this insight as a direct result of his philosophical starting point (1-2). Both the notorious Epicurean tenet that parental love for offspring is not natural (3-5 and 7-10) and his apolitical doctrine are understood in this light as ad hoc arguments, developed in order to save the consistency of his philosophical system. It is clear, then, that Epictetus’ argument in the end rests upon fundamental anthropological premises which are no longer argued for, but regarded as self-evident. In the Epicurean view, however, these premises were anything but evident. In spite of Epictetus’ suggestion, Epicurus was fully convinced that we are not social by nature (Themistius, Or. 26, 324a = fr. 551 Us.) and that everyone only takes care of himself (Lactantius, inst. 3,17,42 = fr. 523 Us.; Cicero, fam. 7,12,2). This view also makes its in See A.A. Long (2002), 218-220 for the translation of the term προαίρεσις, and C. Cassanmagnago (1977) and R.F. Dobbin (1991) for its significance in Epictetus. 107 R.F. Dobbin (1998), 199. 108 Cf. A. Bonhöffer (1894), 94-95. 106

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fluence felt in his theory of friendship as well as his philosophy of law and justice and is perfectly in line with his doctrine of pleasure without being a rationalised concession to it. There still remains the obscure comparison with flies. As far as I can see, we may ascribe three functions to it. First of all, it suggests that Epicurean philosophy implies a devaluation of human beings. The Epicurean philosopher merely attains the level of a fly. Such a denigratory conclusion is not without parallel in Epictetus. In 2,20,10, for instance, the conduct of the Epicurean is equated with that of a worm. Secondly, the comparison with the flies illustrates the antisocial character of Epicurus’ philosophy. Dobbin argues that “flies do not bestow any care on their young, and show no sign of co-operating among themselves, although they are not solitary animals but are often seen together”109. One may add that flies are not inclined to make any contact with human beings, although they live under the same roof110. Finally, the comparison can be interpreted as an allusion to the parasitic nature of Epicurus’ philosophy. Lucian points to the fact that the fly does not work herself, but reaps the harvest of another man’s toils (Musc. enc. 8). Similarly, Epicurus does not contribute to the public interest, but nonetheless shares in all its advantages. In that sense, the comparison with the flies contains the core of the second argument. b) The second argument indeed concerns the parasitic character of Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy. We met this argument before in the works of Cicero, who questioned the universalisability of Epicurus’ philosophy, arguing that a problem would arise if optimus quisque converted to Epicureanism (cf. supra 2.2.5). In Epictetus, a similar argument occurs in two places. In 2,20,6-20, Epictetus emphasises more than once that Epicurus would profit from the fact that other people regard themselves as social beings and act accordingly. It would definitely add to his own security (8), so that he would have done better by confining his views to his own circle and persuading everyone else from the truth of the Stoic doctrine (12-13). This advice recalls that of Cicero in de orat. 3,64, although important differences between both passages remain. In Epictetus the whole argument is neither used for its own sake nor does it directly thematise the question of universalisability. From the general context it appears that Epictetus once again attacks the Epicurean tenet that man is not a social being by nature. He tries to refute this tenet by means of an argument from inconsistency: Epicurus de facto shows himself to be a social being by writing all his books (8-11; cf. (1998), 198. In this context, one may recall Plutarch’s argument that the fly and the swallow are the only creatures that share man’s dwelling without allowing any companionship (Quaest. conv. 728A, with the pertinent observations of S.-T. Teodorsson (1996), 236). 109 110


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1,20,19). Epictetus’ emphasis on the parasitic implications of Epicurus’ philosophy should then prove that Epicurus’ decision to write his voluminous œuvre is not based on rational arguments, but on nature itself (15-20). It is clear, then, that Epictetus’ attack on Epicurus’ parasitism in this passage is merely one premise of a more general argument. This argument would presumably fail to persuade Epicurus. He would not connect his decision to write his works with his supposed social nature but argue that it contributed to his personal pleasure. The more people who actually advocate Epicureanism, the more he will profit from that (in terms of personal security, gratitude, friendship, etc.), and moreover, a careful calculus may well show that the pleasures derived from writing outweigh the efforts required by it (cf. Lucretius, 2,730 and 3,419). Epictetus also uses the argument from parasitism in 3,7, against an Epicurean corrector. Having attacked Epicurus’ doctrine of pleasure and his philosophy of law (3,7,2-18), Epictetus turns to social and political philosophy and briefly recalls some of Epicurus’ basic doctrines: the sage does not marry, has no children, and does not engage in politics (19). Suggestive rhetorical questions then illustrate the direct consequences of these tenets: where are the citizens to come from, and who will educate them? In this case, Epictetus’ argument does raise the problem of universalisability. An Epicurean πόλις is simply inconceivable for him. If everyone converts to Epicureanism, the human race will die out in one generation. It is interesting to dwell for a moment on the general and theoretical character of Epictetus’ argument. Epictetus could have confronted the corrector with his own inconsistency, since his political engagement was obviously at odds with the doctrine of his master. Yet he nowhere does this explicitly111, but merely exhorts him to give up his view (21) in order to live like a Stoic. The fairly general and impersonal character of this approach may be an indication that we are reading Arrian rather than Epictetus. This is the thesis of Wirth, who argues that Arrian in all likelihood was not present during the private encounter between Epictetus and the corrector, and later himself composed a short treatise on the basis of traditional arguments112. Wirth’s theory has recently been defended by B. Wehner, who nonetheless adds that Epictetus could have told Arrian afterwards what he had said to the corrector113. Certain conclusions regarding the authorship cannot be safely made in this case. The general character of Epictetus’ argument may indicate that it is Arrian who holds the pen, but may equally well illustrate Epictetus’ strategic caution to attack the corrector all too directly. However that may be, it is safe to conclude that there is nothing in the argument which seems to be at odds with the thought of Epictetus himself.

Although he underlined the importance of consistency just before; 3,7,17-18. Th. Wirth (1967). 113 B. Wehner (2000), 41-42. 111 112

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The question remains, however, whether the attack on Epicurus’ parasitism is justified. Epicurus himself would no doubt disagree. If everyone advocates Epicurean philosophy, there will be no need for any offices, for everybody will abide by the law and support one another in mutual friendship. The children can be educated in the Epicurean communities114. But where are the children to come from? Epicurus argued that the sage will marry only in special circumstances (Diog. Laert. 10,119 = fr. 19 Us.). It is typical of his qualifying philosophy that he leaves room for such exceptions. There is nothing which really excludes that the ideal situation, when everybody has become Epicurean, should be regarded as such an exceptional circumstance, especially since many efforts required by the education of children will be considerably mitigated under such circumstances (though not necessarily all of them). If Epicurean philosophy is universalised, Epictetus’ problems would not arise at all, or in any case far less acutely. If, on the other hand, it is not universalised, the whole problem of course becomes merely theoretical. It is true that this is not the merit of Epicurus’ philosophy, but he may have a point in arguing that it is unfair to blame him for the problem of other men’s pains if they do not accept the solutions he himself offers in order to solve it. In a certain sense, he could claim to be forced into the role of parasite. In other words, his parasitism was not the theoretical implication of his philosophy, but the direct consequence of the decision of others to prefer pain to pleasure. In conclusion, Epictetus’ rejection of Epicurus’ apolitical philosophy was more straightforward and less wordy than that of Cicero, far more radical and apodictic than that of Seneca, and no doubt based on much more honourable intentions than that of Timocrates. Epictetus had more important things on his mind than anti-Epicurean polemic. His attacks are usually short, focus on fundamental questions, and after all contain more self-assurance of his own Stoic perspective than compelling arguments against Epicurus. In the end, Epictetus was far less interested in such theoretical issues than in moral virtue. As an ex-slave and a Stoic, he knew better than anyone else that this is the only thing that is truly ἐφ’ ἡμῖν.

114 Pace B. Frischer (1982), 64, who argued that the Epicureans preferred to send their children to normal Hellenistic schools; see G. Roskam (2007), 59-60.

3. Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo

3.1. Introduction: the work and its author 3.1.1. Plutarch hardly needs an introduction. The scarce biographical data which we can recover from his own works and from other sources have been intensively studied and enable us to catch at least a glimpse of the author1. We can follow his traces on his journeys to Rome and Italy, Alexandria, and Asia Minor; we again find him back in the company of the Platonist Ammonius and may visit him most of the time at his home in Chaeronea. We finally witness how he later in his life divided his time between his little hometown, an unimportant hole (albeit with a rich history), and Delphi, the centre of the world, where he served the god Apollo as one of the two priests there. And of course, there remains his voluminous and various œuvre, through which he acquired a prominent place in the intellectual life of his day. Plutarch never wished to ‘live unnoticed’ and it is likely that he did not ‘die unnoticed’ either. One may well imagine that the news of his death caused hardly less agitation in Platonic circles than that of Great Pan which he mentions in De def. or. 419B-D. This is not the place to give an extensive discussion of Plutarch’s life, works, and philosophical convictions, nor do I wish to give a short overview of the ‘most important’ topics at the cost of gross oversimplification and arbitrary selection. I merely wish to briefly call attention to two further aspects which are of paramount importance for a good understanding of De latenter vivendo. First of all, Plutarch was proud to be a convinced follower of the ‘divine’ Plato (De cap. ex inim. 90C; Per. 8,2) and as such showed himself an implacable opponent of both Stoics and Epicureans. Anti-Epicurean polemic occupies an important place in Plutarch’s philosophical writings. No less than five works have been preserved which are entirely dedicated to antiEpicurean polemic: Adversus Colotem (Lamprias catalogue n° 81; a refutation of Colotes’ polemical work entitled Περὶ τοῦ ὅτι κατὰ τὰ τῶν ἄλλων φιλοσόφων δόγματα οὐδὲ ζῆν ἐστιν)

1 Good introductions include K. Ziegler (1951); R.H. Barrow (1967); C.J. Gianakaris (1970); D.A. Russell (1973); J. Sirinelli (2000) and R. Lamberton (2001).

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Plutarch’s de latenter vivendo

Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum (Lamprias catalogue n° 82; presented as a sequel to the former treatise) De sera numinis vindicta (Lamprias catalogue n° 91; against the Epicurean denial of divine providence) De amore prolis (not in the Lamprias catalogue; against Epicurus’ notorious conviction that parental love for offspring is not natural) De latenter vivendo (Lamprias catalogue n° 178). Apart from these five works, the Lamprias catalogue contains the titles of at least six more works that appear to have been directed against Epicurus’ philosophy2: Πρὸς τὴν τοῦ ’Επικούρου ἀκρόασιν περὶ θεῶν (n° 80) Περὶ τῶν ’Επικουρείων ἐναντιωμάτων (n° 129) Περὶ τοῦ ἐφ’ ἡμῖν πρὸς ’Επίκουρον (n° 133) Ὅτι παραδοξότερα οἱ ’Επικούρειοι τῶν ποιητῶν λέγουσι (n° 143) Στωικῶν καὶ ’Επικουρείων ἐκλογαὶ καὶ ἔλεγχοι (n° 148) Περὶ βίων πρὸς ’Επίκουρον (n° 159). One may add that Epicurus’ tenets are also attacked in many other passages from several of Plutarch’s works3. Anti-Epicurean polemic, then, remains a constant in the Corpus Plutarcheum4. Even passages which at first sight On n° 155 (Περὶ δεισιδαιμονίας πρὸς ’Επίκουρον), see K. Ziegler (1951), 700. According to M.A. Joyal (1993), 100-101, n° 69a and n° 70 should be taken together to form the title Πρὸς ’Αλκιδάμαντα ὑπὲρ τοῦ Πλάτωνος Θεάγους (cf. already R. Volkmann (1869), I, 111). In this work, Plutarch would have attacked “an Epicurean adherent who took exception not merely to reports and discussions about Socrates’ divine sign, but in particular to the apparently extravagant (and possibly superstitious) claims made for the efficacy of τὸ δαιμόνιον in Thg.” (p. 101). See also J. Opsomer (1997a), who discusses this work of Plutarch in an epistemological context. 3 See, e.g., De sup. 164F; De Is. et Os. 369A; De Pyth. or. 398A-C and 398E-399E; De def. or. 420BC and 434C-F; De Stoic. rep. 1052B; cf. also Quaest. conv. 673C-674C, with the discussions of R. Westman (1987) and L. Van der Stockt (1990a), 27-31. 4 R. Flacelière (1959) argued that there can be found an evolution in Plutarch’s attitude towards Epicurus, from a less negative to a much more polemical position, but the evidence which he offers is far from compelling; cf. also J.P. Hershbell (1992), 33733374 and J. Boulogne (2003), 18-19. 2


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seem to imply a more positive evaluation of the Epicurean point of view may in the end show evidence of a certain distance5. It is true that Plutarch counted several Epicureans among his friends6, but even if he no doubt showed respect to them as philosophers, I strongly doubt whether he respected them as Epicurean philosophers7. Second, Plutarch’s Platonic philosophy contains a strongly political component. He still adopts the Platonic ideal of the philosopher-king8 and also defends the less radical alternative of a collaboration between publicspirited philosopher and philosophically oriented politician9. In his Political precepts, he offers concrete advice to his young friend Menemachus of Sardes, which is characterised by well-balanced prudence and a sound combination of philosophical principles and pragmatic realism, and which illustrates his intelligent insight in the demands of the political circumstances of his day. This insight is probably the fruit of a long experience in politics. In his youth already, Plutarch went as an envoy to the proconsul (Praec. ger. reip. 816D) and later he held important political offices (Quaest. conv. 642F and 693F), without despising the more trivial ones (Praec. ger. reip. 811B). This political orientation is diametrically opposed to the spirit of Epicurus’ quietistic philosophy. No wonder, then, that Plutarch often attacks Epicurus on this point. Both Non posse and Adv. Colot. contain important sections that deal with Epicurus’ apolitical position. These will be discussed in due course, as they throw an interesting light on several arguments that are adduced in De latenter vivendo. In other works from the Moralia, such as De tranq. an. (465F-466A) and De tuenda (135B-D), Plutarch’s discussion of Epicurus’ political philosophy is much shorter, but no less polemical, and even in the Lives, he occasionally introduces short anti-Epicurean comments (Comp. Cim. et Luc. 1,3 and Pyrrh. 20,3-4)10. The mere recurrence of this polemical refrain already shows its importance for Plutarch. In the end, it is not just a theoretical position which is at stake, but a whole way of life, and Plutarch’s polemic is not merely a rejection of a different opinion but also a matter of self-justification11.

See G. Roskam (2006/7), 80-81 on De aud. poet. 37a. See esp. J.P. Hershbell (1992), 3355-3356. 7 See G. Roskam (2004a), esp. 271-272. 8 G.J.D. Aalders (1982), 41; G.J.D. Aalders – L. de Blois (1992), 3391; J.P. Hershbell (1995), 213. 9 The latter is addressed in Ad principem ineruditum, the former in Maxime cum principibus philosopho esse disserendum. 10 See G. Roskam (2005b), 362-368 for a discussion of all of these passages. 11 This need not imply, however, that Plutarch’s political engagement was the most important motivation of his anti-Epicurean polemical attacks. J. Boulogne (2003), 26-32 has actually shown that it was not. 5

6

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3.1.2. This also holds true for De latenter vivendo. The analysis of Plutarch’s different arguments and of his polemical techniques and eristic strategies will show in a moment that his short but vehement attack on Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ also illustrates his own Platonic convictions. But first I wish to turn briefly to some other general characteristics of the little work. First of all, the wealth of quotations which is so typical of Plutarch’s works also occurs in De latenter vivendo. References can be found to poets (Euripides in 1128B, Sophocles in 1129CD; unknown poets in 1129E and 1130A; Pindar in 1130C and D; Homer in 1130D) and philosophers (Democritus in 1129E, and, of course, Epicurus himself in 1129B; cf. also 1128F1129A). The quotations are often used for the sake of ornatus, although they never aim at literary embellishment alone. They may function as argumentum ex auctoritate against Epicurus (cf. infra 3.5.1e) or contribute to Plutarch’s polemical argument by illustrating it or making it more explicit. Furthermore, they all give cumulative evidence of Plutarch’s impressive παιδεία, and as such add to his general credibility. Plutarch’s παιδεία is not merely illustrated by such quotations, however. He refers to the most various elements of the previous tradition, including the parasitical methods of Philoxenus and Gnathon (1128B) and customs and opinions from ancient times (1128E and 1130AB), alludes to technical philosophical doctrines (such as the theory of antiperistasis in 1128C and the traditional definition of γένεσις in 1129F), and mentions specific theories which presuppose a more than superficial familiarity with the philosophical tradition (e.g. the theory of some philosophers that the soul is in its substance light; 1130B, or several detailed aspects of Epicurus’ conduct; 1128F1129A). All these different elements are introduced in one and the same perspective and are used for the same purpose of refuting Epicurus’ advice. The reader may be overwhelmed by the wealth of allusions and references and may get the impression that the whole of the Greek intellectual tradition rises in protest against Epicurus’ infamous maxim. In that sense, Plutarch’s use of the previous tradition also has a strong rhetorical aspect. It is important to deal with the rhetorical character of Plutarch’s argument in De latenter vivendo somewhat more in detail, since it illustrates the peculiar character of the work fairly well. In fact, rhetorical approaches and techniques make their influence felt on every page of De latenter vivendo. Brief outbursts (1128A and C) alternate with lengthy periods (1129DE and 1130B), elaborate comparisons (1128BC and 1129CD) with brief examples (1128F and 1129BC), and rhetorical questions (1128C; 1129A; 1129B; 1129D) with explicit affirmations (1128CD and 1129E) or suggestive insinuations (1129B). Clear-cut oppositions (1128D-F; 1129DE; 1130A; 1130C-E) permeate the whole discussion, whereas the phrasing of the different arguments is time and again dominated by tricolon (1128D and E; 1129A; 1129B; 1129BC; 1130B; 1130E) and even tetracolon (1129A and B; 1130E). Whatever the value of Plutarch’s anti-Epicurean arguments may be, the brilliant style


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which he uses in this little work makes it a delight to read. Furthermore, it is not unlikely that an ancient reader (or audience) appreciated these literary qualities even more than we are able to do. If that is true, the rhetorical character may even have added, at least in Plutarch’s own day, to the force of his argument (on the basis of the well-known saying rem tene, verba sequuntur). 3.1.3. The last topic to be discussed in this brief introduction concerns the date of De latenter vivendo. This is a difficult problem, however, given the lack of evidence regarding absolute chronology12. It has been regarded as a late work13, but has also been placed in a middle period14 and has even been characterised as a school exercise that stems from Plutarch’s youth15. This great diversity of opinions illustrates the huge amount of speculation and the fact that we have little compelling evidence about the question. The strongly rhetorical character of De latenter vivendo may offer the proverbial protruding branch to take hold of, since it enables us to connect the work with a specific genre (viz. the thesis or discussion of a quaestio infinita16), which seems to point to a relatively early period. But this branch soon breaks off when it has to bear the full weight of the argumentation. For I. Gallo is right in remarking that Plutarch only gradually leaves behind the phase of school rhetoric17 and one may add that rhetorical strategies play an important part in his other polemical works too. Moreover, we have seen the rich παιδεία of which the little work provides evidence and which far surpasses the level of introductory works such as Alcinous’ Didaskalikos or Apuleius’ De Platone et eius dogmate. These observations might again point to a somewhat later date. A simple non liquet proves to be the only possible conclusion. This uncertainty about the date of the work may be highly deplorable, to be sure, but I do not think it has far-reaching consequences for its interpretation. In any case, it never precludes a full understanding of Plutarch’s argument. This will appear from the following systematic analysis of the subsequent chapters of the work. De latenter vivendo remains absent from the chronological list of C.P. Jones (1966), 70-73. 13 G.M. Lattanzi (1932), 332-336; cf. also R. Flacelière (1959), 205 (who bases himself on the conviction of the young D. Babut) and F. Fuhrmann (1964), 23. 14 A. Strobach (1997), 29 (though with a certain reserve: “eventuell auch später”); cf. also K. Ziegler (1951), 766, who rejects a late date, and ventures only the quite general remark “daß die antiepikureischen Schriften nicht in eine so frühe Zeit fallen wie die gegen die Stoiker gerichteten”. 15 A. Barigazzi (1990), 46-47; cf. also B. Heininger – R. Feldmeier (2000), 40. 16 Thus rightly B. Heininger – R. Feldmeier (2000), 39; for the thesis as one of the praeexercitamenta, see H. Lausberg (1990), 544-546; see also S.F. Bonner (1969), 2-11. 17 (1996a), 931; cf. also Id. (1996b), 216 and 218-219; Id. (2000), 9. 12

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3.2. Inconsistency between Epicurus’ words and deeds 3.2.1. Plutarch usually pays much attention to the opening of his writings. P.A. Stadter even made the claim, significant in itself, that “no writer [...] excels Plutarch in the variety, charm, and technical skill of his proems”18. This claim, which is based on a thorough analysis of the proems of the Lives, proves generally valid for the Moralia too, and even for the more specific domain of Plutarch’s extant philosophical polemics. Both Non posse and De communibus notitiis adversus Stoicos have well-constructed introductions, presented in the form of a short dialogue and containing a concise depiction of interlocutors and circumstances. Other polemics open with a systematic programmatic introduction (De virtute morali) or with a motivation of the standards of evaluation that will be used (De Stoicorum repugnantiis; cf. also Adv. Colot. 1108B and D). But all of these introductions are alike in offering essential information that is very helpful for a correct understanding of the general perspective, scope, and purposes of the respective works. a) In that respect, the opening of Plutarch’s De latenter vivendo may seem disappointing at first sight. Plutarch in fact does not offer any such introduction at all, but immediately launches a violent ad hominem attack against Epicurus’ inconsistency, arguing that “not even the man who formulated this advice wished to remain unnoticed” (1128A). This quite abrupt beginning has been regarded more than once as evidence for the unfinished character of the work19. Such a conclusion remains unconvincing, however, because it does not take into account the polemical perspective of the little work. It is much more likely in my view that Plutarch deliberately chooses to omit a more formal introduction because it would have harmed rather than contributed to his auctorial purposes. The abrupt opening should indeed be interpreted as a rhetorical eristic strategy. By raising the question of Epicurus’ inconsistency in the opening sentence, without any introduction, Plutarch immediately attracts his readers’ attention, in order to make Epicurus appear in an unfavourable light. At the same time, Plutarch may arouse a certain good-will regarding his own position (captatio benevolentiae). The combination of the adversative ἀλλά at the very beginning and the ex abrupto-character of the opening suggests an indignant rejection of the confirmation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας in the title of the work20 and constitutes a stylistic means in order to emphasise even more the directness of his attack. (1988), 274. K. Ziegler (1951), 766: “Das Schriftchen macht durchaus, schon mit seinem abrupten Anfang und auch durch die unverhältnismaßig große Zahl unerlaubter Hiate, den Eindruck des Skizzenhaften und Unfertigen, und wird [...] mit Recht zu den Schriften gezählt, die nicht von P. selbst, sondern aus seinem Nachlaß herausgegeben worden sind”; cf. also M. Pohlenz (1952), 216: “declamatio excepto prooemio elaborata”; G. Verbeke (1962), 21, n. 1. 20 A. Barigazzi (1990), 51 is right in understanding the adversative ἀλλά in connection with the question of the title (cf. also I. Gallo (1996a), 932-933; Id. (2000), 11 and 12-13). 18 19


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b) There is something more to be said about this opening sentence, though. It is quite remarkable that Plutarch does not immediately identify his opponent21 but rather refers to him through a vague paraphrase. This is even more remarkable because Plutarch severely condemns a similar approach in Colotes’ work. Now there is an important difference to be sure. Colotes apparently only concealed the names of his contemporaries, but not those of his predecessors (which is already something of a contradiction). This makes Plutarch conclude that his opponent is guided by cowardice rather than respect (Adv. Colot. 1120C: ἀποδειλιάσας πρὸς τοὺς ζῶντας, οὐ μετριάσας ὑπ’ αἰδοῦς). This is an important passage, in that it throws an interesting light on Plutarch’s own custom to use paraphrases instead of proper names in his philosophical polemics when he considers the origin of the discussed theory to be sufficiently clear, at least for the public of the philosophical schools22. Such a method of working may thus usually be interpreted as a token of respect for the opponent. The question remains, however, whether this also holds for our passage. To my mind, the most important reason why Plutarch has given preference to the vague ὁ τοῦτο εἰπών should be sought elsewhere. It is not primarily motivated by a feeling of respect towards his philosophical predecessor23, nor by the opposed feeling of “una forma di disprezzo nei confronti dell’odiato filosofo”24, but, once again, by polemical aims. The inconsistency between words and deeds is expressed far more sharply by the use of the formula ὁ τοῦτο εἰπών than by the name of Epicurus: “exactly the man who said it, failed to do it”. At the same time, Plutarch can ironically claim to do justice to his opponent, since his refusal to introduce Epicurus nominatim is directly in line with the latter’s preference to remain unnoticed. It is clear, then, that both the abrupt beginning and the vague paraphrase ὁ τοῦτο εἰπών are rooted in, and greatly contribute to, the polemical purpose of the work. 3.2.2. The argument of inconsistency advanced in the first sentence of De latenter vivendo is by no means self-evident. It was widely known indeed that Epicurus led a retired life in his famous Garden, far away from all the His name appears for the first time in chapter 3 (1128F), where he is directly addressed. 22 Cf. τοῖς φιλοσόφοις (De aud. poet. 37A: the Epicureans); τοὺς ταῦτά γε λέγοντας (De prof. in virt. 75D) and οὗτοι (76A: the Stoics); τις (De sup. 164F: Epicurus); τινες (165A: the Stoics); ἔνιοι (De virt. mor. 446F: Chrysippus and his successors; see D. Babut (1969a), 21-22 and 158; F. Becchi (1990), 196); ὁ εἰπών (De tranq. an. 465C: Democritus); οἱ ... λέγοντες (Cons. ad ux. 611D: the Epicureans); οἱ ... κελεύοντες (De esu 997E: the Stoics; cf. SVF 3,749); etc. 23 Even if it is true that Plutarch more than once expresses his feelings of respect, both to Epicurus himself and to Metrodorus; it is only Colotes who never receives any favorable evaluation; see J.P. Hershbell (1992), 3364-3365. 24 I. Gallo (1996a), 933; cf. also Id. (2000), 13. 21

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troubles inherent in public life. In what follows, Plutarch further argues (cf. γάρ) his initial claim: “It was precisely this statement (αὐτὸ τοῦτο) which Epicurus made in order to escape from being unnoticed” (1128B). Even though the vocabulary hardly changes, Plutarch here makes an important move. By concentrating on the maxim itself (αὐτὸ τοῦτο), he in fact excludes many possibilities and at the same time considerably enlarges the challenge. For as a result of this focus, he can no longer argue that Epicurus was de facto well-known, in spite of his advice to strive for an ‘unnoticed life’, nor that Epicurus exhorted to remain unnoticed in public life, while on the other hand striving for fame, e.g., in the domain of physics. In what follows, Plutarch will have to prove that Epicurus aimed at fame specifically with his statement λάθε βιώσας. This claim is made more explicit in the following participle construction: Epicurus procures himself fame by inciting others to ἀδοξία (1128B). Apparently considering his maxim λάθε βιώσας an important thought (ὥς τι φρονῶν περιττότερον), through it he pursues an unjust fame. Here, the opposition between Epicurus’ words (ἐκ τῆς εἰς ἀδοξίαν προτροπῆς) and deeds (δόξαν ἄδικον ποριζόμενος) is given its sharpest possible formulation: it is precisely by exhorting to ἀδοξία that Epicurus aims at δόξα. By means of a quotation from Euripides, Plutarch returns to the inconsistency itself by explicitly disapproving it. The clear aba-pattern which thus appears at the outset of De latenter vivendo is one of the most typical compositional schemes in Plutarch’s works, often used “when die Rede eindringlich sein soll”25. At this point, Plutarch prefers to interrupt his argumentation for a while, in order to make Epicurus’ outrageous behaviour itself sink in more thoroughly to his readers. To that purpose, he first introduces two illustrating comparisons (1128BC). He first points to renowned gourmands such like Philoxenus, son of Eryxis, and Gnathon of Sicily, who make the food unattractive for the other banqueters by blowing their noses on it and so succeed in keeping everything to themselves. Analogously, those with an immoderate appetite for fame – again a paraphrase instead of the proper name – make fame unattractive to others in order to keep it entirely for themselves. The unfair, selfish character of Epicurus’ behaviour emerges clearly from this comparison. Fame is the ὄψον, as it were, which Epicurus dishonestly pursues by removing its attraction for others. Plutarch’s choice of examples may well be motivated here by a subtle irony, for the Epicureans also embraced as a principle the notorious tenet that the pleasure of the belly forms the beginning and root of every good (ἀρχὴ καὶ ῥίζα παντὸς ἀγαθοῦ ἡ τῆς γαστρὸς ἡδονή; Athenaeus, 7, 280a and 12, 546f = fr. 409 Us.)26. The second com H.G. Ingenkamp (1971), 71, who also offers many examples of this aba-pattern; cf. also Id. (1992), 4301-4303. 26 The fragment is discussed in detail by T. Gargiulo (1982). It should be noted that Epicurus himself is characterised as ὀψοφάγος in Aelian, fr. 42a), and that the Epicureans 25


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parison is taken from the field of seamanship: just as rowers make the ship advance, even while facing its stern, Epicurus aims at fame “with his back turned to it” (ὥσπερ ἀπεστραμμένοι) (1128BC). The unfair selfishness of Epicurus’ behaviour here again fades into the background; the comparison rather focuses on the mere fact of his inconsistency. It is only after these two comparisons that Plutarch further demonstrates his claim that Epicurus indeed pursued fame through his maxim λάθε βιώσας. His argument, formulated as a rhetorical question, is short and clear: if Epicurus would have followed his own advice to remain unnoticed, he would certainly not have written down and published his tenet. But he did not wish to remain unnoticed to posterity, and thus, one may add, a fortiori not to his contemporaries (1128C). Any further comment is left behind. Plutarch prefers to focus merely on the apparent inconsistency between Epicurus’ thoughts and deeds. That the latter could perhaps put forward another motivation for his γράφειν and ἐκδιδόναι than the striving for fame (e.g. a concern for future generations of Epicurean pupils) is passed over completely. Of course, the seeming obviousness suggested by the rhetorical question can easily be explained by the genre of De latenter vivendo – this not being a technical, theoretical treatise but a polemical thesis directed against Epicurus – but in the end, it nevertheless ruins (the persuasiveness of) Plutarch’s argument. As a whole, the first chapter seems generally coherent and well-structured. The different moves in the argumentation are clear, the range of thoughts is developed in a logical pattern, the internal coherence of the different parts is made clear by connecting particles (3 times γάρ, once ἐπεί)27, and the ABA-structure at the beginning even reinforces the impression of logical coherence28. Plutarch obviously wants to suggest a strictly rational argumentation. suffered from all kinds of digestive disorders (cf. Adv. Colot. 1103A and esp. Non posse 1089EF, with the commentary of K.-D. Zacher (1982), 155-158). In the anti-Epicurean polemical tradition, those various diseases were explicitly linked with the alleged intemperance and gluttony of the Epicureans; see e.g. Cicero, fam. 7,26,1 and Diog. Laert. 10,6; cf. also Plutarch, De tuenda 135C. 27 One should note, however, that the two comparisons are somewhat loosely connected with the rest of the argumentation. For the association ὁ εἰπών – οἱ ἀκράτως φιλόδοξοι is nowhere made explicit and the γάρ at the outset of the comparison (τοὺς μὲν γὰρ ...) does not have its strictly logical meaning (cf. J.D. Denniston (1954), 61). Perhaps, Plutarch inserted material here from one of his sources as illustrative examples. 28 In that sense, the first chapter already shows that one should nuance the conviction of M. Pohlenz (1952), 123: “magis[que] movere quam docere vult”; cf. also J.J. Hartman (1916), 612: “(...) delectandi quam docendi cupidum magis”, D.A. Russell (1993), 120: “It is, however, more a rhetorical exercise than a serious argument”; and B. Heininger – R. Feldmeier (2000), 37-38. It is clear that De latenter vivendo has a rhetorical flavour, to be sure, but this does not necessarily exclude all logical argumentation. The work aims at more than mere ‘movere’ or ‘delectare’.

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3.2.3. This argumentation is based on two fundamental pillars, viz. Epicurus’ striving for fame and his inconsistency. Both themes occur elsewhere in Plutarch’s œuvre as well and can apparently be traced back to a previous antiEpicurean polemical tradition. a) Epicurus’ excessive φιλοτιμία is also attacked in Non posse, where the philosopher is depicted as someone “who swelled with furious, excited desire for fame” (1100A = fr. 233 Us.): he does not recognise any teacher29; he struggled with Democritus about syllables and serifs, although he took away all his doctrines verbatim30; he considers only himself and his pupils to be wise31; he himself mentions both Colotes’ famous act of adoration (προσκύνησις)32 and the far-reaching admiration of his own brother Neocles33; and he even declared that his mother had such atoms in herself as to produce a sage by their conjunction34. By means of this self-praise, Epicurus attempted to both seduce and force fame, giving himself the honours which he failed to get from others35. It is clear that this section from Non posse offers an interesting parallel to Plutarch’s argument in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo. In both passages, Epicurus’ supposed ambition is the target of a vigorous ad hominem attack. Moreover, the many parallels to Plutarch’s argument in Non posse which are mentioned in the notes above suggest that he there falls back on a traditional attack. Even though this observation also Non posse 1100A. Epicurus’ denunciation of all his previous teachers and his claim to be an autodidact did not remain without comment; cf. Diog. Laert. 10,8 and 13; Cicero, nat. deor. 1,72-73 and 93; Sextus Empiricus, M. 1,3-4. See K. Freeman (1938), 158-160 for a defense of Epicurus. 30 Non posse 1100A; cf. also Cicero, nat. deor. 1,72 and 93; fin. 1,21. For the important influence of Democritus on Epicurus, see also Cicero, nat. deor. 1,120 and fin. 4,13; Plutarch, Quaest. conv. 735A; Diog. Laert. 10,4; cf. Cicero, ac. 1,6; fin. 1,17 and 18; 2,102; Lactantius, inst. 3,17,23. That this influence of Democritus on Epicurus was recognised also in Epicurean circles appears from Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1108EF; see also P.M. Huby (1978). 31 Non posse 1100A = fr. 146 Us.; cf. also Cicero, fin. 2,7 and Cato 43. In nat. deor. 1,113, Metrodorus is called Epicuri collega sapientiae. 32 Non posse 1100A = fr. 141 and 178 Us. The whole scene is more fully described in Adv. Colot. 1117B; cf. also Non posse 1100C. The precise meaning of Colotes’ behaviour and of Epicurus’ reaction to it remains unclear; cf., e.g., A.-J. Festugière (1946), 66-68; R. Westman (1955), 27-31; F. Albini (1993), 213-214; M. Erler (1994b), 235236. 33 Non posse 1100A = fr. 178 Us.; cf. also Non posse 1100C, and especially De frat. am. 487D. 34 Non posse 1100AB = fr. 178 Us.; cf. Eusebius, PE 14,26,2. One may wonder whether this is one of the ways in which Epicurus showed his great gratitude towards his parents (Diog. Laert. 10,10; Philodemus, De piet. col. 51,25-26), whose memory he also secured in his last will (cf. Diog. Laert. 10,18). 35 Non posse 1100B; see also De se ipsum laud. 540AB. 29


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throws light on the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, the precise importance of the traditional material there can only be evaluated when the differences between both passages are also taken into account. One may first of all point to the difference with regard to their general context. In Non posse, Plutarch tries to demonstrate that a life according to Epicurus’ doctrine can never be pleasant. To that purpose, he shows in this particular section36 that the pleasures of a vita activa considerably surpass those promised by the trivial occupations in the Garden. For the recollection of great achievements and of the fame which results from them provides pleasures which totally overshadow the corporeal pleasures of eating, drinking, and sexual intercourse37. Even Epicurus was well aware that honours can bring some pleasures and his striving for fame is understood in this light. Since neither the theme of inconsistency nor that of λάθε βιώσας is directly relevant in this context, they both disappear or at least fade into the background38. Secondly, in both De latenter vivendo and Non posse, Plutarch emphasises that Epicurus aims at an unjust fame, but the way in which this is gained greatly differs in both works. Indeed, the unfair and egoistic character of his behaviour, which was emphasised in the former work, totally disappears in the latter, where Plutarch focuses on the theme of Epicurus’ unjustified selfpraise. It is this self-praise which seems to have been important in the antiEpicurean polemical tradition. If that is true, Plutarch gives this tradition an interesting turn in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, by connecting the traditional idea of an Epicurus gloriosus not with the latter’s unjustified selfpraise but with his advice to ‘live unnoticed’. In other words, he changed not the end that was polemically ascribed to Epicurus (that is, fame), but the means to that end. b) The argument of inconsistency between words and deeds, which constitutes the second pillar of Plutarch’s argumentation, frequently occurs in the Corpus Plutarcheum and forms one of the important argumentative strategies in the philosophical polemics against both Stoics and Epicureans39. Its The chapters 15-19 (1096F-1100D); cf. H. Adam (1974), 46-47; K.-D. Zacher (1982), 21; F. Albini (1993), 23. 37 Non posse 1099D; cf. also Comp. Cim. et Luc. 1,7 and Lys. 2,1. 38 Plutarch alludes to the theme of λάθε βιώσας in chapter 19 (1100BC), where he ascribes to Epicurus a lack of political talent. On the slight value of this argument, which is characterised by the typical ancient interest in the author’s ἦθος, see G. Roskam (2007), 64. 39 The strategy occurs, e.g., in De prof. in virt. 76AB (directed against the Stoics) and 84B-85B (consistency as a general ἐπιλογισμός of moral progress; see G. Roskam (2005a), 239-244 and 320-335) and in Non posse 1095C-F. The anti-Stoic polemic De Stoic. rep. is even entirely based on the demand of consistency (both between words and deeds and between several tenets; cf. M. Baldassarri (1976), 53-54 and G. Boys-Stones (1997), 4748 on the ambivalent formula τὴν τῶν δογμάτων ὁμολογίαν ἐν τοῖς βίοις in 1033A). 36

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central importance is stressed and argued in a very explicit way at the beginning of De Stoicorum repugnantiis (1033AB). Plutarch was not the only one who considered such consistency between words and deeds to be a matter of major concern. In fact, all of the philosophical schools made much of this argument40, the importance of which is directly connected to their great interest in the domain of ethics. Indeed, the argument of inconsistency between words and deeds became one of the basic eristic strategies which could be used to refute the ethical position of a philosophical opponent41. Such formal eristic strategies formed a kind of matrix which the philosopherpolemicist had at his disposal, and which could be used in various polemical contexts42. c) The pillars on which the argument of the first chapter of De latenter vivendo is based, can thus be traced back to a long tradition of philosophical (anti-Epicurean) polemics. However, they only form the raw material which Plutarch had at his disposal and which he further elaborated in his own, personal way. It should be noted that this material – at least as far as we can verify – was never used in the discussions concerning the Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας. The above analysis of Cicero’s anti-Epicurean criticism and of the Stoic attacks by Seneca and Epictetus already showed that the philosophical polemics against Epicurus’ socio-political thinking usually dealt with other questions. This is further illustrated by the concluding section of Adversus Colotem (1124D-1127E), which is entirely dedicated to a refutation of Colotes’ apolitical doctrines43. The Epicurean philosophers are there blamed for dissolving all political institutions and for abrogating the existing legislation (1125C). By destroying religion, they take away the necessary foundation of each society (1125D-F), they attack distinguished philosophers who have given proof of their excellence and usefulness (1126AE), whereas they themselves remain totally useless (1126EF) and hence parasitic (1127A). They deter everyone from any social commitment (1127A) and deride all great political leaders (1127A-C). In short, by abolishing laws and governments, they abolish human living itself (1127DE). Such argumentation is very different from Plutarch’s anti-Epicurean attack in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo. Indeed, neither the argument of inconsistency See the evidence in J. Mansfeld (1994), 177-191. In order to refute an ethical theory from the inside, one could try to demonstrate that a correct application of its basic precepts did not lead to happiness (cf. Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum, which was Plutarch’s answer to Colotes, who used the same method in his polemical work Περὶ τοῦ ὅτι κατὰ τὰ τῶν ἄλλων φιλοσόφων δόγματα οὐδὲ ζῆν ἐστιν, Adv. Colot. 1107E), or one could show that its authors themselves did not live in accordance with their tenets (inconsistency). 42 This appears e.g. from Cicero, fin. 2,81 and Epictetus 3,7,17-18, where the argument is used in an original way; cf. also Cleanthes’ evaluation of Arcesilaus in Diog. Laert. 7,171 (= SVF 1,605). 43 See J. Boulogne (2003), 183-197 for a detailed and systematic analysis. 40 41


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nor the theme of Epicurus’ striving for fame appears in the last part of Adversus Colotem, where the Epicurean attitude is blamed – erroneously, to be sure, but no doubt in accordance with the foregoing tradition – as useless and even subversive. In the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, Plutarch thus develops a new criticism, by introducing the (traditional) anti-Epicurean argument of Epicurus’ excessive φιλοτιμία into the context of the (traditional and formal) argument of inconsistency. To that purpose, however, he cannot but isolate Epicurus’ original advice from its general context. Indeed, Plutarch does not place the maxim back into the general outlines of Epicurus’ socio-political philosophy44, but interprets it as an exhortation to seek obscurity (εἰς ἀδοξίαν προτροπή). That this is a highly biased interpretation hardly needs further explanation. Not only does Plutarch confine himself to the strictly literal meaning of the maxim45 as well as omit all of Epicurus’ arguments in favour of it, but the term ἀδοξία which he uses also has a negative connotation (“ill repute”; LSJ) and is far less neutral than, e.g., λανθάνειν or even ἄγνοια. Even if one interprets ἀδοξία here in a more neutral way (“obscurity”, or even “the condition of being unnoticed”), it remains true that Plutarch’s choice of words reflects his polemical intentions. Finally, Plutarch understands the maxim λάθε βιώσας in a far more absolute way than Epicurus intended it to be (since Plutarch nowhere seems to suggest in this chapter that several exceptions to this rule were possible in the Epicurean doctrine46). Of course, it is only this biased interpretation of the maxim that makes Plutarch’s argument of inconsistency possible. For as long as the maxim λάθε βιώσας is understood in an orthodox Epicurean way, as an advice to avoid participation in public life and ambitious striving for fame, Epicurus proves to be consistent indeed, since he has always sought his ἀταραξία in his Garden, limiting his social contacts for the greater part to the intimate circle of likeminded friends. Plutarch can only establish indications of inconsistency by leaving the Epicurean point of view, by isolating the maxim λάθε βιώσας from its direct context47 and criticising it within the framework of a different phi44 In that light, one should amend M. Isnardi Parente’s casual characterisation of De latenter vivendo as dealing with the theme “dell’astensione dalla vita politica” [(1988), 72; cf. also F. Portalupi (1961), 6]. In fact, this characterisation is as such more applicable to orthodox Epicurean thinking than to the broader subject of De latenter vivendo. Such generalisations are characteristic of the way in which Plutarch’s little work is mostly treated; compare the concise approaches of R. Westman (1955), 19 and R. Flacelière (1959), 209. The depreciation of De latenter vivendo, which goes hand in hand with similar broad generalisations, also becomes evident in different characterisations of the work by modern authors: “feuilleton” (O. Seel (1972), 374); “pamflet” (I. Gallo (1996a), 934; Id. (2000), 14). 45 Cf. R. Degl’Innocenti Pierini (1992), 150; I. Gallo (1996a), 930. 46 Cf. supra, 1.4, and G. Roskam (2007), 50-56. 47 One of the well-known eristic strategies in the philosophical controversies of the time. In Adv. Colot. 1108D, Plutarch blames Colotes for exactly the same polemical approach; cf. also Non posse 1086D.

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losophy, at the same time interpreting it in a broader and far less nuanced way as a rigorous advice to “seek obscurity”. Only then can he detect an objective opposition between Epicurus’ supposed doctrine and his actual fame, and even aggravate this inconsistency by applying it to the maxim itself. By doing so, Plutarch ascribes a quite malignant motivation to Epicurus: by means of his own absolute exhortation to remain unnoticed, he succeeds in making a great reputation unattractive to others, at the same time securing his own fame. Epicurus proves to be not merely inconsistent, but unfair too. In that sense, Plutarch’s polemical attack also disqualifies Epicurus from a moral point of view and undermines his credibility as a moral philosopher. In order to support his attack, Plutarch falls back on incontestable facts, which in his perspective have sufficient evidential value: the man who wishes to remain unknown to his contemporaries does not publish his tenets for posterity. There can be little doubt that Plutarch knew the correct meaning and scope of the maxim λάθε βιώσας very well. He was familiar with Epicurus’ arguments (cf. Pyrrh. 20,3 = fr. 552 Us.; Adv. Colot. 1125C = fr. 554 and 556 Us.), and he was even conscious that several exceptions to the general rule are possible (cf. De tranq. an. 465F-466A = fr. 555 Us.). For the purpose of his polemics, however, he prefers to understand the maxim in a literal way, at the same time considerably broadening its meaning. His interpretation of Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας is thus conditioned by the demands of his polemics. Therefore, Plutarch here ‘misunderstands’ Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’, whereas he elsewhere interprets it more correctly. In that sense, the first chapter of De latenter vivendo illustrates Plutarch’s polemical methods very well: accuracy and long theoretical discussions have to yield to efficiency and rhetorical persuasiveness. If that is true, the evaluation of Plutarch’s argument can be short. Epicurus’ supposed inconsistency actually proves to be non-existent and merely finds its origins in a biased interpretation of his maxim. Epicurus generally considered consistency between words and deeds to be of paramount importance48 and proves indeed to have been basically consistent in this case. As to Plutarch’s attack against Epicurus’ excessive striving for fame, it equally appears to be unjustified. Epicurus explicitly emphasised that he never solicited the favours of the great crowd, but reserved his insights for the happy few49, and we have no reason whatsoever to question the sincerity of his words. This does not imply that Epicurus declared himself without restric48 See esp. RS 25. Colotes, too, apparently set great store by the claim of consistency between words and deeds, as appears from his attack on Socrates (Adv. Colot. 1117E). Cf. further Cicero, fin. 1,65 and Philodemus, De lib. dic. fr. 16,5-7 (cf. also col. xviiia, 1-9). 49 Cf. SV 29 and fr. 187 Us. Nevertheless, the Epicurean sage ought to avoid being despised and should therefore pay at least some attention to his reputation; cf. Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 573 Us.


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tions against all honours50. He merely rejected – though not rigorously – the arduous striving for empty fame51, which should be ranged under the class of unnecessary and unnatural desires, and which is totally overshadowed by the pleasures of tranquillity of mind52. 3.3. The ethical arguments 3.3.1. From the second chapter onwards, Plutarch will focus his criticism on the maxim itself, which is also blameworthy in itself, irrespective of the attitude of its author (ἀλλὰ τοῦτο μὲν αὐτὸ τὸ πρᾶγμα πῶς οὐ πονηρόν). He thus abandons the merely formal criticism of his argumentum ad hominem for some remarks with respect to content. At the same time, the undercurrent of sarcasm, already present in the first chapter, now comes to the surface: λάθε βιώσας – ὡς τυμβωρυχήσας (1128C). Living and grave-robbing apparently fall in the same class, viz. that of shameful crimes which should be concealed. This silent connection shows that the maxim λάθε βιώσας should be rejected because it implies a considerable devaluation of life (τὸ ζῆν) itself. Of course, this does not correspond to Epicurus’ intentions. One should not ‘live unnoticed’ because life is a kind of crime which should be concealed or because it is a disgrace to live, but in order to find inside the enclosed Garden the ἀταραξία of the truly human life. Plutarch in fact considerably broadens the meaning of the maxim λάθε βιώσας: Epicurus’ more differentiated conviction that public life should be avoided (as a menace to personal happiness) becomes the more general and absurd tenet that life in itself is something shameful (αἰσχρόν). a) In order to evaluate correctly this rather bizarre argument of Plutarch’s, one should first turn to chapter 27 of Non posse, where a somewhat similar argument can be found. The relevant passage alluded to (1104E-1105A) is situated in the final part of the treatise53, where Plutarch enumerates various pleasures and benefits which originate from the hope of an afterlife of the soul, thus proving once more that Epicurus’ tenets actually run counter to a pleasant life. The starting-point of chapter 27 is the Epicurean tenet that man is born only once; there will never be a second time, but one is doomed forever to be no more54. In Plutarch’s view, this Epicurean belief directly Cf., e.g., Non posse 1099F-1100A (= fr. 549 Us.): καὶ μὴν ἀπὸ δόξης γίνεσθαί τινας ἡδονὰς ’Επίκουρος ὡμολόγει. Moreover, striving for fame can even be approved of if this fame contributes to one’s own security (RS 7); cf. also Cicero, fin. 1,35 and RS 6. 51 See, e.g., SV 64; cf. also Seneca, epist. 21,3 (= fr. 132 Us.) and Cicero, fin. 1,60. 52 Cf. Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1125C (= fr. 556 Us.). 53 The chapters 25-30 (1104A-1107A); H. Adam (1974), 69-80 (esp. 71-73); K.-D. Zacher (1982), 22-23. 54 Non posse 1104E = fr. 204 Us.: ἅπαξ ἄνθρωποι γεγόναμεν, δὶς δὲ οὐκ ἔστι γενέσθαι· δεῖ δὲ τὸν αἰῶνα μηκέτ’ εἶναι; cf. also Non posse 1106F. 50

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leads to a serious underestimation of the present moment, which sub specie aeternitatis almost disappears into non-being and which elapses without being used (1104EF). It also entails contempt of virtue and action (1104F) and a very pessimistic anthropology (1104F-1105A). That such a depreciation of human life in its various aspects is for Plutarch closely connected to an eschatological perspective55, appears also from the concluding chapter of Non posse, where Plutarch opposes Epicureanism to both Platonism and Stoicism. Whereas both the Platonic point of view (viz. the belief in the incorruptibility and immortality of the soul) and the Stoic doctrine (viz. the cyclical conception of time: the soul survives during long cycles until it is finally dissolved in the ἐκπύρωσις) leave some space for great, divine achievements56, death in the Epicurean perspective brings neither hope nor grace, but only the end of all good and pleasant things. What is left is merely the narrow domain of the pleasures of the flesh and avoidance of evil as the greatest end of life (1107C). As the irrevocable end of life, death cuts off all our projects, makes life idle and futile, discourages every active commitment, and pins man down to the narrow sphere of corporeal pleasure. That these arguments belong to the previous anti-Epicurean tradition appears from various parallels with Cicero’s philosophical works. The traditional argument takes its point of departure in the Epicurean doctrine of death, but gathers from it conclusions which directly concern life itself. Indeed, the Epicurean conception of death as the total annihilation of the soul throws man into the domain of the most trivial pleasures57, which do not offer real pleasure (Tusc. 1,14). Cicero emphatically concludes that man is The choice of the crime of grave-robbing (τυμβωρυχήσας) as an example at the beginning of the second chapter of De lat. viv. fits in fairly well with the eschatological background of the traditional anti-Epicurean argument. Perhaps one may also regard it as a subtle anticipation of the eschatological reflections in chapter 7. In that case, life and grave-robbing can, in Plutarch’s view, be linked in Epicurus’ philosophy, since there is a connection between remaining unknown (living) and appropriating what belongs to the dead (oblivion as penalty of the wicked). Cf. also the imagery of chapter 6 (1130B: κενοταφῶν). 56 Cf. Non posse 1107B. M. Pinnoy (1968), 195 refers to this passage and to De sera num. 560B in order to argue that Plutarch “hésite parfois entre la conception de Platon et celle des Stoiciens” (cf. also Id. (1967), 308). But one should bear in mind the eristic strategies which Plutarch uses in his polemical treatises. What he tries to do is isolate the philosophical opponent by seeking alliance with other schools, in casu with the Stoics. This, however, is only done for the sake of destructive polemics and cannot be regarded as evidence for Plutarch’s acceptance of Stoic doctrine; cf. also H. Adam (1974), 81, with n. 2. 57 Men of action also enjoy those trivial pleasures (cf. Non posse 1099B), although they think lowly of them, being preoccupied by greater ones (1099C); cf. also Non posse 1099AB. On the trivial occupations of the Epicureans, see further Non posse 1097AB (= fr. 194 Us.); 1097CD and EF; Adv. Colot. 1126EF and Cicero, fin. 2,68. 55


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born for higher purposes than pleasure (fin. 2,113: ad altiora quaedam et magnificentiora, mihi crede, Torquate, nati sumus). These higher ends, however, can only be reached in a perspective of immortality58. b) What would Epicurus’ answer have been to this traditional argument directed against his philosophy? He would no doubt insist that his doctrine of death need not necessarily lead to despair and pessimism, nor imply a devaluation of life, but the opposite is actually true. The radical finiteness of human life incites man to make use of the καιρός without further delay (the motif of carpe diem), in order not to miss the opportunity because of the pressure of one’s busy occupations59. Present pleasure should not be disturbed by expectations for the future60. Moreover, it is simply false to believe that immortality is a necessary condition for pleasure, since infinite and limited time contain the same pleasure if one measures the limits of pleasure by means of reason61. Indeed, when the mind has understood the final end of the flesh and its limits (πέρατα) and has delivered the Epicurean from his fear of death, he can still enjoy pleasure and, at the moment of death, he need not have any desires that remain unfulfilled (RS 20; cf. also 21). Therefore, human finiteness also permits engaging in all kinds of projects, for the Epicurean is at every moment sure that death in no way reduces his pleasures62. This shows that the traditional anti-Epicurean argumentation on which Plutarch’s attack is based, is a classic example of external criticism, the meaningfulness of which is derived in the first place from the presuppositions of one’s own philosophical school. It is from the perspective of his own Cf. Cato 82 and Tusc. 1,32-34; see also rep. 6,13 and 26; Arch. 28-30. Cf. SV 14, which has the same point of departure as the traditional anti-Epicurean argument that Plutarch used in chapter 27 of Non posse, but which leads to radically different conclusions: γεγόναμεν ἅπαξ, δὶς δὲ οὐκ ἔστι γενέσθαι· δεῖ δὲ τὸν αἰῶνα μηκέτι εἶναι· σὺ δὲ οὐκ ὢν τῆς αὔριον (κύριος) ἀναβάλλῃ τὸν καιρόν· ὁ δὲ βίος μελλησμῷ παραπόλλυται καὶ εἷς ἕκαστος ἡμῶν ἀσχολούμενος ἀποθνῄσκει. Plutarch thus obviously isolates Epicurus’ words from their original context for the sake of his own polemical purposes. 60 Cf. also SV 35; Lucretius, 3,957-960; Philodemus, De morte col. xii, 11-15. This Epicurean doctrine is echoed in Plutarch, Mar. 46,3. 61 Cf. RS 19 = SV 22; Epist. ad Men. 126; Cicero, fin. 1,63 (a position which is attacked in fin. 2,87sqq.); Philodemus, De morte col. xxxviii, 14-19; cf. also Plutarch, Cons. ad Apoll. 111AB. Consciousness of one’s own finiteness can make mortal life pleasant, not by adding an infinite span of time, but by removing the yearning for immortality; Epist. ad Men. 124. 62 Cf. F.D. Miller (1976), 176: “If what is most important about engaging in projects is not the outcome, but something which is always in our possession, the fact that death may cut off our projects in no way diminishes the importance of engaging in projects”; cf. also F. Albini (1993), 26-27 and J. Warren (2004), 109-159 on premature death and the complete life. Cicero even shows that the Epicurean perspective does not necessarily prevent the pursuit of everlasting achievements (Tusc. 1,91). 58

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interpretation of the good life that the polemicist considers Epicurus’ aspirations to be insufficient. In Epicurus’ perspective, on the other hand, the objections which are made fail to grasp the point. In that sense, the traditional argument against Epicurus is a kind of self-assurance rather than real refutation63 (even if refutation is of course its first aim). And yet, it would be too simplistic to label such external criticism as mere self-assurance. In fact, such criticism often questions the presuppositions of the antagonistic philosophy and more than once reveals real difficulties (although rarely, if ever, real inconsistencies!), which may force the opponent to nuance some aspects of his thinking. The traditional argument of the depreciation of life in Epicureanism is an example of such external criticism, although one should not overemphasise its importance. It is merely a violent attack on possible (though by no means necessary) consequences of the Epicurean presupposition concerning death as the annihilation of the soul, a presupposition which is based itself on the more fundamental presupposition of atomism. It may invite the Epicurean to clarify his position, to be sure, but will not force him to abandon it. 3.3.1.3. As in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, Plutarch at the outset of the second chapter draws inspiration from a traditional anti-Epicurean argument in order to refute the maxim λάθε βιώσας. Once again, however, he also modifies this traditional argument, which considerably outreached the much more limited domain of the maxim λάθε βιώσας. In order to channel the traditional argument within the borders of the maxim, Plutarch is compelled [1] to isolate once more the maxim from its original context, understanding it in a more general and absolute way and giving it a new meaning which differs both from Epicurus’ own intentions and from the meaning it received in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, and [2] to bring the traditional argument to a head. For whereas the traditional anti-Epicurean argument tried to prove that the quality of life was seriously diminished in the Epicurean point of view, Plutarch suggests that according to Epicurean thinking, life itself is not only futile and superfluous64, but even shameful (αἰσχρόν) to such an extent that one should hide it. As in the first chapter, Plutarch’s interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας is thus conditioned by the traditional material which he had at his disposal. Nonetheless, there exists an important difference between Plutarch’s auctorial strategy in the two chapters. For the argument of inconsistency, used in the first chapter, belongs to the eristic strategies which are merely formal, and which, even though they can be used in very different contexts, cannot themselves be reinterpreted and adapted to Cf. also H.G. Ingenkamp (1999) on Plutarch’s “Scheingefecht” against the Stoics in De virt. mor., and G. Boys-Stones (1997), 51-54 on De Stoic. rep. 64 A position that was endorsed by many at that time, at least according to Seneca, epist. 24,26. 63


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the immediate context. Inconsistency always remains inconsistency. In chapter 2, on the other hand, Plutarch makes use of a traditional argument which concerns the content of Epicurean philosophy. Such arguments can more easily be modified to suit the purpose of the polemicist, even though they are more closely tied to a specific context. At the beginning of the second chapter, the material which is used in order to refute (viz. the traditional argument) and the object which should be refuted (viz. the maxim λάθε βιώσας) are thus fashioned after one another. This once again illustrates the eristic strategies which Plutarch uses in his philosophical polemics. The above analysis shows that Plutarch deals with the philosophical arguments of the anti-Epicurean tradition in a personal way. It also shows that, just as the traditional argument will fail to convince the orthodox Epicurean, Plutarch’s adaptation of it is doomed to remain unconvincing. Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ was not motivated at all by a devaluation of life. Life is certainly worth living for Epicurus (cf. Epist. ad Men. 126)65. It is only when the moment of dying has finally come that one can dispose of life as something worthless66. Before, even taedium vitae cannot be a sufficient reason for suicide67. 3.3.2. The following sentence marks an important transition. After Plutarch’s attack on the supposed devaluation of life in Epicurean philosophy, one could reasonably expect a further argument, which demonstrates that life in itself is not bad and should thus not be concealed. These expectations remain unfulfilled, though. Plutarch rather expresses his own opinion that a man should not even conceal his evil living (1128C). This is an important move: instead of offering a mere negation of the maxim (“μηδὲ βιώσας λάθε”), Plutarch formulates the advice of μηδὲ κακῶς βιώσας λάθε. The addition of κακῶς places the discussion in a radically new light, switching from a rather (physico-)ontological perspective (“life is shameful”) to a strictly ethical Cf. J. Warren (2004), 199-212. Cf. SV 47: ἀλλ’ ὅταν ἡμᾶς τὸ χρεὼν ἐξάγῃ, μέγα προσπτύσαντες τῷ ζῆν καὶ τοῖς αὐτῷ κενῶς περιπλαττομένοις ἄπιμεν ἐκ τοῦ ζῆν μετὰ καλοῦ παιῶνος ἐπιφωνοῦντες ὡς εὖ ἡμῖν βεβίωται. It is not clear whether the statement should be attributed to Epicurus himself or to Metrodorus; cf. D. Clay (1983b), 260-261; Id. (1973), 278. Cf. also Philodemus, De morte col. xxxix, 18-25. 67 Cf. Seneca, epist. 24,22 (= fr. 496 Us.). According to Epicurus, one can commit suicide when one suffers unendurable pains (Cicero, fin. 1,49 = fr. 397 Us.; cf. also fin. 1,62; Tusc. 5,117-118 = fr. 499 Us.), but not because of fear of death (Seneca, epist. 24,23 = fr. 498 and 497 Us.; Lucretius, 3,79-82; Plutarch, Cons. ad Apoll. 110A; Seneca, epist. 70,8), or loss of sight (Diog. Laert. 10,119 = fr. 15 Us.). Atticus was one of the Epicureans who indeed took his life (Nepos, Att. 21-22); Diodorus, another Epicurean philosopher who committed suicide, was explicitely criticised for his inconsistent behaviour (Seneca, dial. 7,19,1). In any case, a person who has many good reasons for committing suicide is in all respects a little man (SV 38). 65 66

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perspective (“living shamefully”). Moreover, by means of the term μηδέ (“even if you live badly”), Plutarch seems to suggest that he brings the matter to a head. From a strictly logical point of view, however, he by no means reaches this end. On the contrary, the overall pessimistic vision which Plutarch – erroneously – attributes to Epicurus (“life in general is shameful and should thus be concealed”68) is refuted here from only one perspective, namely an ethical one (“bad living should not be concealed”). This transition of perspective and the use of the term μηδέ may be explained by making explicit the different steps of Plutarch’s argumentation. That life in itself is not inherently shameful is evident for Plutarch and needs no further argumentation69. In that sense, Epicurus’ advice to “conceal one’s life” needs no lengthy refutation. The well-directed rhetorical question makes Epicurus’ supposed position and its refutation coincide. That is why Plutarch’s thesis at the outset of the second chapter has remained hardly more than a suggestive evocation of the traditional argument of devaluation of life in Epicureanism. The application (with all the modifications it entailed, cf. supra) of the traditional argument to the concrete subject of De latenter vivendo led to a result such that its refutation became self-evident to its author. Yet, there exists a possibility to question this self-evidence. The thesis that life is not shameful and thus should not be concealed when it is lived in a morally good way can reasonably claim some persuasiveness, at least among non-malicious readers, but does this hold also in the case of a morally bad life? Is a life of that kind not shameful and should one not hide it? Has Plutarch himself not conceded implicitly that a violator of a grave should better hide his crime and is the connection between αἰσχρόν and λαθεῖν not after all evident? Plutarch’s own position (ἐγὼ δ’ ἂν εἴποιμι) can thus be understood as an answer to an objection which is not made explicit: even if one lives an evil life (and commits a shameful crime), one should not hide oneself. The reason follows immediately in a rhetorical triptych: ἀλλὰ γνώσθητι, σωφρονίσθητι, μετανόησον (1128CD). Leaving the sphere of the hidden life thus turns out to be the necessary condition for all progress towards moral virtue70. 68 Whether one lives in a morally good or bad way (that is, the ethical question) does not matter in this general perspective. 69 This is suggested by the foregoing rhetorical question (ἀλλ’ αἰσχρόν ἐστι τὸ ζῆν, ἵνα ἀγνοῶμεν πάντες; 1128C), which fits in very well with the genre of De lat. viv. (viz. a rhetorical thesis). Moreover, the supposed Epicurean thesis of the devaluation of life also proves to be at odds with widespread opinions, for the great majority of people are indeed characterised by a great yearning for being (πόθος τοῦ εἶναι), as becomes evident in common expressions (cf. also fr. 177 and 178 Sandbach) and funeral customs (Non posse 1104CD). Not being may even be regarded as something unnatural (Non posse 1106D). The presence of parallel considerations in Cicero (cf. fin. 5,31) shows that this argument belongs to the philosophical tradition. 70 This insight will function as one of the basic ἐπιλογισμοί in Plutarch’s treatise De prof. in virt. (81f-82f); see G. Roskam (2005a), 294-300 for a discussion.


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This argument, taken from the domain of ethics, definitively confirms the transition from the ontological towards the ethical perspective. If this is true, the structure of Plutarch’s line of reasoning at the beginning of the second chapter can schematically be reconstructed as follows: Epicurus’ supposed thesis:

life in general is shameful, and should therefore be concealed (ontological perspective)

〈Plutarch’s position〉: 〈life in general is not shameful, and should not be concealed〉 (ontological perspective) 〈objection〉:

〈does Plutarch’s position also hold in the case of morally bad living?〉 (transition from the ontological towards the ethical perspective)

Plutarch’s answer to the objection:

even a morally bad life should not be hidden (ethical perspective)

argument:

revealing one’s life is the necessary condition for all moral progress (ethical perspective)

This once again illustrates that the ethical argument arises from the ontological and that the transition between both perspectives is situated in the implicit objection. 3.3.3. The ethical perspective is then further elaborated in the following sentence, where Plutarch formulates by means of a clear and concise dichotomy the central idea of the remaining part of chapters 2 and 3: if you have virtues, do not make yourself useless; if you have vices, avoid remaining without cure (1128D). The negative phraseology of the dichotomy (μὴ ... ἄχρηστος instead of χρηστός, μὴ ... ἀθεράπευτος instead of θεραπευτός) should of course be understood against the background of the polemical context, suggesting obviously that the labels ἄχρηστος and ἀθεράπευτος should be given to the followers of Epicurus. Furthermore, Plutarch’s argumentation in the foregoing sentence is now placed within the broader framework of a fundamental dichotomy: κακῶς βιώσας is resumed in κακίαν (ἔχεις), whereas the central idea of the rhetorical triptych γνώσθητι, σωφρονίσθητι, μετανόησον is recapitulated in the concise formula μὴ μείνῃς ἀθεράπευτος. For two reasons, a correct understanding of the dichotomy thus appears to be of paramount importance for a correct interpretation of the argumentation which will follow in the rest of chapter 2 and in chapter 3. First of all, by retaining the anti-Epicurean polemical tone while delineating the basic outlines of his argument which follows, Plutarch introduces reflections that further develop these basic out-

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lines and which can be considered to represent his own position, all this in the polemical context of his anti-Epicurean attack. Second, by directly connecting the dichotomy with the ethical refutation of the (physico-)ontological argument at the outset of the second chapter, he takes care that his whole argumentation follows naturally from that traditional ontological argument, even though, because of the change in perspective (from ontological towards ethical), the original argument definitively fades into the background. In what follows, Plutarch further elaborates upon the two poles of the dichotomy, by considering in detail the consequences which Epicurus’ advice has for the life of the virtuous (chapter 3) and the wicked (the rest of chapter 2). For both groups, the maxim λάθε βιώσας actually proves to be pernicious. 3.3.3.1. When one addresses the statement to the vicious, one resembles a man who dissuades an ill person from consulting a physician advising him instead to conceal his fever (λάθε καὶ πυρέττων) or his madness (λάθε φρενιτίζων) and to withdraw himself to the darkness (κατὰ σκότους), where he can remain unknown (ἀγνοούμενος) (1128D). As in the first chapter, the application of the comparison follows immediately. Epicurus’ maxim is in fact an advice to hide (ἀποκρύπτων) diseases of the soul such as envy and superstition, for fear of those who are able to cure them (1128DE). As a response to this negative attitude, Plutarch refers to an ancient custom. In the distant past, the sick were placed in the middle in order to undergo a kind of public inspection and everyone might provide his own advice, based on his personal experience. In the same way, the diseased lives (νοσώδεις βίους) and the troublesome affections of the soul (τῆς ψυχῆς παθήματα) should be uncovered, in order that the passions might be cured by means of a public diagnosis and therapy. This method is much preferable to Epicurus’ advice of λάθε βιώσας, which inevitably leads to the deterioration of one’s mental disorders (1128E). a) Whereas the argument of inconsistency, formulated in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, had a merely negative, destructive function since it was aimed only at refuting Epicurus’ position, the argument of the devaluation of life in Epicureanism at the beginning of the second chapter has gradually developed into an ethical position which can be regarded as the positive, constructive conviction of Plutarch himself. Plutarch here deals with one of the most fundamental presuppositions of his own psychotherapeutic activities, viz. the sincere conviction that one can only be cured in a context of mutual interchange, hence of social contacts71. This conviction implies that social interaction can be defended on the basis of utilitarianegoistic arguments. One should associate with other persons and use them 71 Cf. Seneca, epist. 52,2: nemo per se satis valet ut emergat; oportet manum aliquis porrigat, aliquis educat.


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for one’s own moral progress. One of the basic reasons why a man cannot cure himself without the support of others is to be found in the passion of self-love (φιλαυτία), by which everyone is made blind to his own shortcomings. That is also the reason why everybody becomes his own first and greatest flatterer (De ad. et am. 48F-49A), why flatterers actually sabotage progress towards virtue (49B), and why the fact that one does not hide one’s own viciousness but of one’s own accord reveals it in order to be cured, can be regarded as an important indication of moral progress (De prof. in virt. 82A). Although Plutarch here argues for his own position, it is important to place the whole argument, which further clarifies one pole of the dichotomy, in its destructive polemical context. Plutarch’s first aim always remains the refutation of Epicurus’ maxim. To that purpose, he points to the objective, empirically observable effects of the maxim λάθε βιώσας on the life of the wicked. Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ amounts in Plutarch’s view to an exhortation to conceal moral vices. It is against this implication of the discussed maxim that Plutarch here reacts: a man who hides his faults and remains all the time ἀθεράπευτος, will cause his vices to always settle deeper into himself. b) That this refutation of Epicurus’ position is once more rooted in an e rroneous interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας goes without saying. For the fact that Epicurus considered active participation in public life to be a serious menace to personal happiness does not imply that he was a priori opposed to each intervention of others in the moral recovery process. It is true that the foundations of Epicurus’ ethics are radically individualistic and that each person should in the first place take care of himself (Lactantius, inst. 3,17,42 = fr. 523 Us.). Nevertheless, Epicurus’ theory and active practice of friendship offers an important complement to this solipsistic ideal, even if it hardly abandons the basically self-centred perspective. For just like other forms of social intercourse, friendship finds its beginning in usefulness72. Protection against the inimical outside world (Cicero, fin. 1,66 and 2,82 = fr. 541 Us.), material support73, and most importantly the cer72 Recent discussions of Epicurus’ view on friendship include J.M. Rist (1980); A.A. Long – D.N. Sedley (1987), I, 137-138; P. Mitsis (1987); Id. (1988), 98-128; D.K. O’Connor (1989); and R. Müller (1991), 114-129. The basic problem with Epicurus’ position towards friendship is aptly formulated by Cicero, fin. 2,78: amicitiae vero locus ubi esse potest aut quis amicus esse cuiquam quem non ipsum amet propter ipsum? Later generations of the Epicurean school tried to answer the criticism in different ways; see Cicero, fin. 1,69-70, with the discussion of K. Algra (2003), 282-284. 73 Cf., e.g., Plutarch, Non posse 1097CD (= fr. 183 Us.); Adv. Colot. 1117DE (= fr. 130 Us.); Diog. Laert. 10,11 (= fr. 182 Us.) and 10,20 (= fr. 217 Us.). Contrary to Pythagoras, Epicurus declared himself against common property among friends, on the ground that such a practice implied mistrust, which is opposed to friendship (Diog. Laert. 10,11 = fr. 543 Us.); cf. also Cicero, fam. 7,12,2.

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tainty to receive help if one gets into trouble (SV 34 and 37) make friendship of paramount importance for the acquisition of tranquillity of mind74. That friendship also contributes to moral improvement appears especially from the fragments of Philodemus’ treatise On frankness75, where secret deeds are condemned as being opposed to friendship (fr. 41,1-8). In an atmosphere of amicable frankness and supported by a well-developed technique of moral improvement76, people can cure each other and be cured by one another (fr. 36,1-4). In this context, voluntary self-disclosure of each member of the Epicurean community appears to be of paramount importance77. This shows that the utilitarian-egoistic argument which Plutarch develops in order to refute the maxim λάθε βιώσας, far from being a refutation, actually proves to be basically in line with the Epicurean position78. c) This conclusion should be nuanced, however. Even if Plutarch insists that friends can contribute to one’s own moral improvement79 and even if friendship has essentially and necessarily a utilitarian component for Plutarch as well80, his position is definitely not the orthodox Epicurean one. Indeed, by involving himself in the process of moral improvement not only a confined circle of friends but also the great majority of men, Plutarch’s view is diametrically opposed to that of Epicurus, who tried to keep away from the crowd as much as possible and regarded only the sage and one’s fellow students as able to heal moral shortcomings81. This opposition be74 On the tension between this position and the end of αὐτάρκεια, see P. Mitsis (1988), 124-127 and D.K. O’Connor (1989), 173-177. 75 N.W. DeWitt (1936), 207-210; M. Gigante (1969); Id. (1983), 55-113. 76 Although it was less hierarchical than N.W. DeWitt (1936), 207-211 and I. Hadot (1969), 49-51 suggest; see M. Gigante (1969), 208-209; Id. (1983), 72-74. 77 Cf., e.g., fr. 40,1-14; fr. 42,1-6; fr. 47,2-3; fr. 51,2-4; fr. 53,3-12; fr. 75,7-8 and fr. 76,1-6. The Epicureans could follow the example of Heraclides, who disclosed his own shortcomings to Epicurus (fr. 49,1-7). 78 One should note that Philodemus’ De lib. dic. has been related to Plutarch’s De ad. et am. (A. Olivieri (1914), viii and x), although in a different context, and perhaps erroneously; M. Gigante (1969), 199-202; Id. (1983), 58-62; I. Gallo (1988), 123-128; but cf. also J. Opsomer (1998), 117-118 and 151, who points to some interesting parallels. 79 Cf., e.g., De ad. et am. 66a. A true friend should join his friend in virtue, not in wickedness (64c), and his frankness should apply itself to the errors of his friend (59d); cf. also De prof. in virt. 82ab. 80 De am. mult. 94b: ἡ ἀληθινὴ φιλία τρία ζητεῖ μάλιστα, τὴν ἀρετὴν ὡς καλόν, καὶ τὴν συνήθειαν ὡς ἡδύ, καὶ τὴν χρείαν ὡς ἀναγκαῖον. 81 Seneca, epist. 25,6 (= fr. 209 Us.); cf. also RS 14; SV 29 and 81; Seneca, epist. 7,11 (= fr. 208 Us.). Philodemus, too, underlines that only the sage and one’s fellow students (συσχολάζοντες) are able to heal moral diseases (De lib. dic. fr. 44,1-11 and fr. 79,1-4) and even insists that moral correction should not only take place from man to man. Shortcomings should also be treated in public, in the presence of other students (De lib. dic. fr. 55,1-6; cf. also fr. 61,1-12).


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tween both thinkers should not be overemphasised, however, for Plutarch would usually agree that moral improvement should not be pursued in the company of great multitudes82, but should in the first place be obtained from the νουθετεῖν καὶ ἰᾶσθαι δυνάμενοι (viz. the philosophers), who are already experienced in healing (cf. παθόντα θεραπεύσας). This also sheds more light on Plutarch’s ethical argument in the second part of chapter 2. The fundamental insight upon which it is based, namely that one should reveal one’s shortcomings in order to make moral improvement possible, can be traced back to an age-old philosophical tradition and was common property of the different philosophical schools (including Epicureanism). On the other hand, the specific application and radicalisation of this general insight (viz. submitting one’s shortcomings to public inspection) is probably Plutarch’s own invention and is directly connected to his polemical purposes. To the maxim λάθε βιώσας, understood as an advice to seek utmost obscurity, Plutarch opposes his own advice to strive for utmost candour. It is clear that this position should be regarded as a polemical exaggeration based on the authority of the past, which again fits in very well with the genre of De latenter vivendo (viz. a rhetorical thesis rather than a theoretical treatise).

82 Cf. De prof. in virt. 78c. It is possible, though by no means certain, that Plutarch wrote a work Περὶ ἡσυχίας (absent from the Lamprias catalogue), a fragment of which has survived in Stobaeus, 4,16,18 (= fr. 143 Sandbach; the authenticity is questioned by F.H. Sandbach (1939), 202; but cf. K. Ziegler (1951), 788: “echt plutarchisch in Stil und Gehalt”). There, Plutarch opposes the knowledge and wisdom of the tavern and the market-place to true, Platonic wisdom. The former, being the wisdom of the great crowd, should be called knavery rather than keenness (αἱ μὲν γὰρ ἐν ταῖς πόλεσι καὶ τοῖς τῶν ἀνθρώπων ὄχλοις γινόμεναι μελέται γυμνάζουσι τὴν λεγομένην δριμύτητα, πανουργίαν οὖσαν). The latter, on the other hand, is closely connected to solitude. For many illustrative parallels, see F. Wilhelm (1924). Although Plutarch in this fragment looks at social life from a perspective that is quite different from that of De lat. viv., G. Siefert (1908), 10, n. 5 exaggerates when he says that “Ganz entgegensetzt dem das Λάθε βιώσας widerlegenden Schriftchen ist das interessante Fragment Plutarchs π. ἡσυχίας”. In De aud. 43d, Plutarch attacks Heraclitus’ conviction that it is “better to conceal ignorance” (fr. 22 B 95 DK): τάχα μὲν γὰρ οὐδ’ ἀμαθίην κρύπτειν ἄμεινον, ὥς φησιν Ἡράκλειτος, ἀλλ’ εἰς μέσον τιθέναι καὶ θεραπεύειν. This attack, however, does not lead to the same radical position as in the second chapter of De lat. viv. The context makes clear that the action of εἰς μέσον τιθέναι καὶ θεραπεύειν takes place in the auditorium, before one’s teacher and fellow students, rather than in the presence of the great crowd (cf. also B.P. Hillyard (1981), 155-157). One may add in passing that Plutarch generally agrees with Heraclitus’ statement (cf. An virt. doc. 439D; Quaest. conv. 644F; fr. 129 Sandbach). According to A. Barigazzi (1993), 160, “questa maniera di variare le applicazioni dei detti famosi appartiene alla tradizione”. However that may be, the ‘inconsistencies’ which such different evaluations of the same quotation might entail mainly arise from the differences in context (cf. A.G. Nikolaidis (1991), 160161) and may show that Plutarch uses Heraclitus’ saying primarily for stylistic embellishment (cf. J.P. Hershbell (1977), 193).

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3.3.3.2. In chapter 3, Plutarch discusses the effects of the maxim λάθε βιώσας on the life of the good (χρηστοί83). By means of a double triptych of concrete examples, first three men of action (Epameinondas, Lycurgus, Thrasybulus), then three philosophers (Pythagoras, Socrates, and Epicurus himself), he makes clear which effects Epicurus’ advice has on the life of the good (1128F). The turn to Epicurus, however, marks a new argument, which radically differs from the previous one. a) At the outset of the third chapter, Plutarch focuses on the socio-political commitment of several great historical figures and opposes their achievements to Epicurus’ advice of λάθε βιώσας. By means of these counterexamples, Plutarch draws attention to the ultimate implications of the Epicurean maxim. Even those ambitious accomplishments which are admired and which prove beneficent to all, are in the Epicurean perspective doomed to disappear from the enclosed Garden. The five concrete counterexamples thus function as a polemical reductio ad absurdum of Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’. In this case too, Plutarch’s position can be traced back to the previous anti-Epicurean tradition, where such arguments by means of concrete examples were popular (cf. Cicero, fin. 1,36). A similar refutation of Epicurus’ socio-political philosophy repeatedly occurs in the second book of Cicero’s De finibus (2,60sqq. and 2,116). There, Cicero tries to isolate Epicurus by opposing him to all other schools84. While Cicero himself can put forward many examples from history in order to prove the valuableness of his own position, Epicurus is unable to do the same (2,67). Never indeed, Cicero continues, could one hear the names of men like Lycurgus, Solon, or Miltiades in the Epicurean school, whereas they are in the mouth of all other philosophers85. In Epicurean disputations, in short, history is dumb (2,67: in vestris disputationibus historia muta est). It is clear that this traditional argument primarily deals with the limited domain of politics, and in this respect at least does not completely misrepresent Epicurus’ position (even if Cicero soon derives unjustified conclusions from it86). This correct limitation, however, disappears in Plutarch’s application of the traditional argument to Epicurus’ specific advice to ‘live unnoticed’. That this advice is still isolated from its original context and The term χρηστοί recalls the combination μὴ ... ἄχρηστος in the dichotomy (1128D). 84 Of course, this radical opposition does not correspond to reality, but should in the first place be understood as an eristic strategy; see also J. Salem (1989), 146-147. 85 See fin. 2,67; cf. also Adv. Colot. 1126A-F. 86 Cf. M. Gigante (1995), 35: “When he accuses the Epicureans of being hostile to history, Cicero is not only oversimplifying the matter; he is lying. It is Cicero who lacks historical sense and is carried away by his polemical purpose.” 83


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understood in a far too broad and absolute way as an exhortation to seek obscurity (cf. τῆς εἰς ἀδοξίαν προτροπῆς in 1128B) appears both from the general formula εἴ γε ... λανθάνειν καὶ ἀγνοεῖσθαι παραινεῖς (1128F) and from the examples of Pythagoras and Socrates. As such, Plutarch’s argument remains unconvincing for an Epicurean philosopher. The examples of Epameinondas and Thrasybulus require a more elaborate discussion, though, since they are more in line with the traditional anti-Epicurean argument. Moreover, they are short enough to omit Cicero’s biased inferences and misrepresentation. If one leaves Plutarch’s erroneous interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας itself aside for the moment, his two counterexamples may appear as a meaningful criticism of Epicurus’ political thinking. In any case, Epicurus can no longer cast aside this objection as an erroneous polemic directed against something he never said or intended to say. However, this does not imply that this argument derived from the accomplishments of famous politicians caused real problems to the philosophers of the Garden, for Epicurus had his answer ready. In fact, it is only in the perspective of Plutarch himself that the counterexamples of these heroes of the past can be seen as a reductio ad absurdum of the Epicurean position. For Epicurus, on the other hand, the position which seems so absurd to Plutarch is indeed the logical consequence of his individualistic starting-point. In principle, a man should only care for himself, and social commitment does not usually contribute (and is often even harmful) to personal happiness. This conviction lies at the basis of Metrodorus’ famous statement that one should not save Greece or receive a crown for wisdom, but eat, drink wine, and gratify the belly without harming it87. It is clear that Plutarch’s counterexamples remain totally unconvincing in such a perspective. Epicurus will be prepared to admit that he is mainly striving for his own tranquillity of mind and that he has no need of socio-political life to fulfil his limited desires. He will add that anyone who fails to do so and remains enslaved to his empty desires is a fool. This applies both to many famous politicians88 and to the public-spirited philosophers who emulate them (Adv. Colot. 1127BC = Metrodorus, fr. 31 and 32 K.). Their conduct is not worthy of imitation but rather illustrates how arduous efforts for the sake of irrational desires end in painful experiences and unhappiness. This, however, would only be part of Epicurus’ answer to Plutarch’s two specific counterexamples. Two other arguments may contribute to the refutation of Plutarch’s (traditional) argument. First, Epicurus agreed that participation in politics and striving for fame should not be rejected if it con-

Cf. Plutarch, Non posse 1098CD; cf. also Non posse 1100D and Adv. Colot. 1125D. 88 Cf., e.g., Non posse 1097C (= fr. 559 Us.); Adv. Colot. 1127AB (= fr. 560 Us.); Cicero, rep. 1,1 and 1,5-6. 87

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tributes to personal safety (RS 6 and 7)89. The accomplishments of men like Epameinondas and Thrasybulus can be praised if they are based on a rational calculus. Everything depends on their motivation. Whereas Cicero and Plutarch praise the achievements of the famous politicians on account of their moral excellence, the Epicureans often prefer to explain the conduct of these heroes by means of a rational calculus. Their great achievements were neither unmotivated (Cicero, fin. 1,34) nor motivated by love of virtue (1,35), but were rooted in sober reasoning. The great politicians simply disregarded pleasures in order to receive greater pleasures, or else supported pains for the sake of escaping greater pains (1,36; cf. 2,60sqq.). In that way, the heroes of the past lose their aureole of disinterested virtue and even become examples of Epicurean sages. Second, Plutarch’s counterexamples are intended as striking illustrations of the uselessness of Epicurus and his followers (cf. μὴ γένῃ ἄχρηστος; 1128D). Even on this point, Epicurus would remain unconvinced. He would be confident to have been useful by curing many people from their irrational fears and empty desires and leading them to happiness. One may add that the Epicurean may even prove useful in the domain of politics (cf. supra, 1.2.2d). Philodemus argues that the Epicurean philosophers benefit the state, even if they do not participate in public life, since they teach the young compliance with the law and show them that one ought to remain just even under circumstances where legislation is non-existent (Rhet. II, 155, fr. xiii, 9-19 S.). Moreover, Philodemus adds that the Epicurean philosopher can act as moral adviser to the politician90. Diogenes of Oenoanda even participated in the euergetic system of his city, and by offering his philosophical inscription, he succeeded in benefitting his fellow citizens while remaining faithful to his Epicurean convictions. The Epicurean, in short, need not be upset by Plutarch’s counterexamples. Although his personal usefulness for the state need not be his primary concern, if he really wishes to benefit his country, he can be sure that his Epicurean view offers him ample opportunity to do so. It is clear, then, that Plutarch’s criticism by means of these counterexamples is only relevant in the perspective of his own politically oriented Platonism. Once again, his argumentation should in the first place be regarded as a kind of self-assurance, rather than as real refutation. In consequence, the passage is mainly interesting because it provides precious information about Plutarch’s own position. At the outset of the third chapter, Plutarch recommends participation in political life on the basis of a utilitarianaltruistic argument: a virtuous man should let the whole community have a share in the benefits that spring from his excellence. The close relation between virtue and benefit, which was already present in the dichotomy at the 89 For the importance of ἀσφάλεια in Epicurean thinking, see A. Barigazzi (1983) and M. Schofield (1999), 748-756, with the remarks of G. Roskam (2007), 37-39. 90 G. Roskam (2007), 121-125.


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beginning of chapter 291, here comes to the fore. The good man should not neglect his talents, leaving them in their embryonic state, but should dedicate himself to the public interest92, in word (Pythagoras and Socrates) and, especially93, in deed (Epameinondas, Lycurgus, and Thrasybulus). And one may add that these efforts for the benefit of all are not merely a solemn duty. Even Epicurus had to admit that it is more pleasant to confer a benefit than to receive one (cf. Plutarch, Maxime cum principibus 778C and Non posse 1097A = fr. 544 Us.). An active life in the service of the whole community brings pleasures that considerably surpass both the pleasure of Epicurus’ trivial occupations in the Garden and his satisfaction with his rare and limited initiatives to support some of his friends (Non posse 1097A-1099F)94. Contrary to Epicurean philosophy, where the Aristotelian motif of human selfrealisation within the πόλις has made way for a disintegration of separate, though mutually communicating circles of friends, Plutarch’s view still rests on a belief in the possibilities of community life in a πόλις. b) By applying the advice of ‘live unnoticed’ to Epicurus himself, Plutarch brings forward a completely different argument. Epicurus’ name is included in the previous list without any syntactic break, to be sure, but the utilitarian-altruistic argument, inherent in the foregoing reductio ad absurdum of the first five counterexamples, is now abandoned for a new proof of inconsistency between Epicurus’ words and deeds95. Plutarch now enumerates various examples of Epicurus’ inconsistency: his letters to his friends in Asia, his initiatives regarding the recruitment and education of the youth, his books which were written for the general public, the instructions of his last will (common meals, monthly and annual meetings), and the commemorative writings in honour of Metrodorus, Aristobulus, and Chaeredemus (1128F-1129A). The evaluation of Plutarch’s argument of inconsistency in this passage generally corresponds to the evaluation of his criticism in chapter 1. Once Cf. 1128D: εἴτε ἀρετὴν ἔχεις, μὴ γένῃ ἄχρηστος. Plutarch thus postulates the constructive effect of personal virtue for the whole community. That this is not necessarily the case has been argued by A. MacIntyre (1988). 93 Cf. Non posse 1097A: εὖ δὲ ποιεῖν ἔστι μὲν ἀμέλει καὶ διὰ λόγων, τὸ δὲ πλεῖστον ἐν πράξει καὶ μέγιστον, ὡς τοὔνομα τῆς εὐεργεσίας ὑφηγεῖται καὶ μαρτυροῦσιν αὐτοί. 94 And yet, a great hero like Pompey longed for a sequestered life without troubles, posing as an orthodox Epicurean, when he received the command of the forces of Lucullus (Pomp. 30,6). Plutarch immediately adds, however, that this apparent reluctance of the Roman general was only a dissimulation of his great joy (Pomp. 30,6 and 31,1); cf. also Dio Cassius, 36,45,1-2; H. Heftner (1995), 218-219. 95 The contrast between the first five examples and the case of Epicurus is further mitigated by the fact that the utilitarian-altruistic component to a certain extent reappears in the first examples of Epicurus’ supposed inconsistent behaviour. 91 92

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again, Epicurus’ maxim is given a too general and absolute meaning, and, as was also the case in the first chapter of De latenter vivendo, it is again the traditional, formal strategy of the argument of inconsistency that directly conditions the interpretation of the Epicurean doctrine at hand. But whereas Plutarch in the first chapter has given his argument of inconsistency its sharpest possible formulation, by applying it directly to the maxim λάθε βιώσας itself (supra, 3.2.2), he now points to several aspects of Epicurus’ behaviour that in his view seem to conflict with the advice to ‘live unnoticed’. Plutarch’s series of indications of Epicurus’ inconsistency can be reduced to three basic difficulties. First there is the problem of recruitment. Why does Epicurus attract disciples after all if he wishes to live unnoticed? Now it should be noted that this problem only exists when the maxim λάθε βιώσας is understood in its most absolute and literal sense. Epicurus did not wish to withdraw entirely from the world and flee into a dark cave where no one would find him. He only avoided ambitious undertakings that were based on vain desires. He would never try to attract a great crowd, but he saw no problem in founding a school of limited size (cf. Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 564 Us.). Yet it is clear that this does not solve Plutarch’s problem. Why would Epicurus found even such a school? Why make the arduous efforts of writing books and educating pupils if one can easily avoid these troubles by ‘living unnoticed’96? Epicurus would probably argue that his wish to educate pupils is based on a careful and rational calculus of pleasure and pain. The toils which his pedagogical project entails are largely compensated for by the great pleasures of curing other people from their rational fears and empty desires and enlarging the circle of his friends. Lucretius explicitly states that he is persuaded to make the arduous efforts of writing his poetry by the expected pleasures which his friendship with Memmius will entail (1,140-142). This sufficiently shows that Plutarch’s argument would in the end fail to convince an orthodox Epicurean. Epicurus’ pedagogical project and the efforts it implied were not opposed to the spirit of the maxim λάθε βιώσας and were fully consistent with the basic principles of his moral philosophy. The second problem concerns Epicurus’ last will. This argument once again illustrates Plutarch’s polemical method of working. As a matter of fact, this argument can be traced back to a previous anti-Epicurean tradition, but the traditional argument belongs to a context which radically differs from that of the third chapter, since it has its point of departure in Epicurean B. Frischer (1982) and (1983) puts forward the interesting suggestion that the Epicureans mainly recruited new adepts through personal contacts and by erecting statues. Even if his view holds true, it does not solve the basic problem of why the Epicureans wished to recruit new pupils. But his interpretation also presupposes a far too absolute interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας; cf. G. Roskam (2007), 59. 96


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physics, more specifically in the Epicurean doctrine concerning death. According to Epicurus, death is the total annihilation of both body and soul, which fall apart into their constitutive atoms again (RS 2). If, however, all perception is indeed lacking after death, what is the purpose of those common meals in honour of the dead Epicurus (cf. Cicero, fin. 2,101 and 102)? Why did Epicurus write a testament after all and even took care that it was officially registered in the Metroon (Diog. Laert. 10,16)97? Has Epicurus not prescribed himself that the Epicurean sage should not trouble himself with funeral ceremonies98? Does Philodemus not emphasise that it does not matter at all who will finally read one’s testamentary dispositions (De morte col. xxiv, 31 – xxv, 2)? Cicero concludes that Epicurus’ last will flatly denies his own tenets and is even totally unbecoming for a philosopher (fin. 2,100 and 103). Epicurus’ answer to this criticism would presumably be that he could, while still alive, derive much pleasure from the knowledge that his friends would be benefited after his death99. It is true of course that he could never be perfectly sure that his last will would indeed be executed after his death, but he would insist that such uncertainty need not spoil his pleasures. The fact that he has done everything he could to ensure its execution largely suffices, even more because he knows that he would in any case not be troubled by what will happen post mortem and thus refuses to anticipate the future. If that is true, Epicurus’ decision to make a will can be reconciled with his doctrine regarding death100. Plutarch adopts the argument from the anti-Epicurean tradition, but gives it a new turn by applying it to the specific context of his own polemic. He opposes several aspects of Epicurus’ last will not to the Epicurean doctrine of death but to the maxim λάθε βιώσας. His selection of these aspects is obviously conditioned by the focus of his polemic. By pointing to the common meals and meetings, he indeed draws attention to the most social aspects of Epicurus’ will. In that way, he does not merely suggest that Epicurus once again failed to practice what he preached, but that he even took care through his last will that later Epicureans were unable to follow his advice of ‘living unnoticed’. See M. Leiwo – P. Remes (1999). Cf. Diog. Laert. 10,118 (= fr. 578 Us.). And yet, according to Aelian (fr. 42a Domingo-Forasté = fr. 218 Us.), Epicurus ordered to make tables of stone and place them as votive offerings on his tomb. Moreover, the graves of Epicurus, of his most important followers, and even of all Epicureans were carefully looked after even in Philodemus’ days (see Philodemus, De morte col. xxiii, 3-8). 99 This is an example of a cause that follows its effects: Epicurus enjoys pleasure now because of what will happen after his death; cf. Diogenes of Oenoanda, fr. 33, vii, 11 – viii, 6. 100 Cf. the elaborate discussion of J. Warren (2004), 162-199, who is more critical of Epicurus than I am inclined to be. 97 98

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That Plutarch’s reorientation of the traditional argument would no less fail to convince Epicurus needs no long argument. It is again based on a biased interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας. Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ was not opposed to friendship after all and the stipulations of his will aimed at a continuation of the Epicurean way of life rather than at making it impossible. The last problem, finally, is about Epicurus’ commemorative writings. What is the purpose of all these books in honour of deceased friends? There are no grateful dead. Plutarch suggests that Epicurus wrote them because he did not even wish that his friends remained unnoticed after death (ἵνα μηδὲ ἀποθανόντες λάθωσιν; 1129A), but it is clear that this malicious suggestion, which is obviously rooted in the demands of his polemical argument, does not do justice to Epicurus’ intentions. Epicurus’ commemorative writings had at least a double function. They served a pedagogical purpose by offering examples of good Epicurean behaviour and in that respect formed the starting point of a long and fruitful tradition of Epicurean biographical writings such as Philodemus’ Πραγματεῖαι, the Life of Philonides, or Carneiscus’ work entitled Philistas. On the other hand, they were important for the internal cohesion within the Epicurean community and aimed at the concrete benefits of the living Epicureans rather than at the pleasure of the dead101. In this, they had the same function as the common meals in honour of Epicurus and his dead friends. In the words of D. Clay: death is nothing to the philosopher, but the Epicurean dead were something to the living because they bound them together into a philosophical family102. Epicurus, then, would not have bothered more about Plutarch’s third problem than about the two previous ones. As long as he was primarily concerned with his own pleasures and with those of his friends, he could be confident that his actions were perfectly consistent with his beliefs. c) A short conclusion at the end of chapter 3 (from ἵν’ ἀμνηστίαν onwards) illustrates the direct consequences which the maxim λάθε βιώσας is supposed to have for the life of the good man (1129A). Whereas from a purely syntactic point of view, this concluding sentence is closely connected with the 101 One should note that Epicurus considers the recollection of past blessings to be of paramount importance for a pleasant life (cf. Plutarch, Non posse 1099D; cf. also Epicurus’ last letters to Idomeneus (Diog. Laert. 10,22 = fr. 138 Us.) and Hermarchus (Cicero, fin. 2,96 = fr. 122 Us.), which basically express the same idea). Accordingly, the Epicurean does not lament over his dead friends (cf. SV 66), but always enjoys recalling them (Plutarch, Non posse 1105E = fr. 213 Us.). 102 D. Clay (1983b), 174; cf. also Id. (1973), 280 and passim; Id. (1984); J.M. Rist (1980), 129; D.K. O’Connor (1989), 171; J. Warren (2004), 39-41. Cicero comes close to the truth in fin. 2,103: tantum dico magis fuisse vestrum agere Epicuri diem natalem quam illius testamento cavere ut ageretur.


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argument of inconsistency which was put forward immediately before it, with regard to content it returns to the perspective of the first part of the chapter (viz. the utilitarian-altruistic argumentation). If that is true, one cannot but regard the section about Epicurus’ inconsistency as a short (unintended?) digression, in spite of the syntactic connections at its beginning and end. Indeed, one cannot ignore the fact that the argument of inconsistency is totally alien to the dichotomy which marks the contours of Plutarch’s argumentation in the chapters 2 and 3. Moreover, whereas the first five counterexamples of the third chapter obviously served the purpose of external criticism, the argument of Epicurus’ inconsistency is again an attempt to formulate internal criticism. Plutarch does not distinguish those two different forms of criticism, though, nor does he make the transition between them explicit in any way, but he inadvertently includes Epicurus in the list of the good men. The resulting inconsistency argument, however, is never integrated harmoniously into the context of the utilitarian-altruistic argument of the third chapter, but remains a Fremdkörper that stands by itself and should be interpreted as such. Which consequences will Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας have for the life of the good men according to Plutarch? First, virtue will be passed over, a result that is diametrically opposed to Plutarch’s own position, which links virtue with social commitment in the service of the public interest (utilitarian-altruistic aspect). Second, skill will be idle (ἀπραξίαν τέχνῃ). With ἀπραξία, Plutarch uses a term pregnant with meaning, important in the context of the epistemological controversy between the sceptical Academy, on the one hand, and (the Stoics and) the Epicureans, on the other. The argument from inaction was one of the ways in which the (Stoics and) Epicureans attacked the Academic scepsis, on the ground that suspension of judgement would make each action impossible103. Plutarch knew both the argument itself and its theoretical refutation104. Here, he declares, apart from all epistemological polemics, that it is (not the suspension of judgement, but) the maxim λάθε βιώσας which actually makes the activity of each τέχνη impossible. Third, philosophy will remain silent (cf. the counterexamples of Pythagoras and Socrates). Fourth, services will be forgotten (the five counterexamples are illustrative here). Here, the element of λήθη is introduced for the first time in De latenter vivendo. This theme will be gradually developed until it receives its final importance at the end of the work. 103 On Colotes’ use of the ἀπραξία-argument against Democritus, Socrates, and Arcesilaus, see P.A. Vander Waerdt (1989), 247-266; on the position of the Stoics, who were apparently the first to use the argument of ἀπραξία against the sceptical Academy, see Id. (1989), 244-246. 104 Cf. Adv. Colot. 1118B and esp. 1122A-D; R. Westman (1955), 127 and 196; J. Opsomer (1998), 87-96. It should be noted that Plutarch probably even devoted a separate treatise to this subject; cf. Lamprias catalogue, n° 210: εἰ ἄπρακτος ὁ περὶ πάντων ἐπέχων.

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3.4. Epicurus’ egoistic hedonism versus Plutarch’s social commitment 3.4.1. The central place of pleasure in Epicurus’ philosophical system was very often misunderstood in Antiquity105. Already Epicurus himself had to face the incomprehension of his contemporaries106, and during the further history of his school, his followers were time and again confronted with a similar lack of understanding on the part of their very severe critics107. The ignorance of what Epicurus had really wanted to say, due to incorrect generalisations and superficial prejudices, was probably influenced by Timocrates to a considerable extent (cf. supra, 2.1.1). This led to an avalanche of (mostly erroneous) criticism on Epicurus’ supposed vulgar hedonism (Cicero, Tusc. 3,44), brought the school into disrepute (Plutarch, Non posse 1100CD), and gave origin to a mass of anti-Epicurean literature. Plutarch even makes mention of slanderous decrees of cities that were directed against the Epicureans108. At the outset of the fourth chapter of De latenter vivendo, Plutarch places himself in this polemical tradition, by connecting the maxim λάθε βιώσας in a malicious way to the Epicurean ideal of pleasure. He argues that ‘living unnoticed’ results (cf. ὡς) in the ability of doing everything for the sake of pleasure (1129AB). It is true that this presentation of Epicurus’ point of view, except for the comparison καθάπερ ἐκ συμποσίου φῶς, comes close to Epicurus’ own intentions. That Plutarch is by no means on the same wavelength as Epicurus, however, appears from his more concrete interpretation of the vague formula πάντα ποιεῖν πρὸς ἡδονήν by means of a double diptych of instantiations. His reference to the courtesans Hedeia and Leontion makes clear indeed that Plutarch here understands pleasure in its most vulgar sense. The names of these courtesans were charged with meaning and mentioning 105 In the Roman world, the Latin translation voluptas may have contributed to the misunderstanding of Epicurus’ philosophy; cf. O. Seel (1972), 373 (we do not share his supposition that Plutarch “sei durch Ciceros Polemik auf das falsche Gleis gelockt worden”). Cicero is conscious of the negative connotation of the word voluptas (fin. 2,12: invidiosum nomen est, infame, suspectum, and 2,75: verbum ipsum voluptatis non habet dignitatem), but he nevertheless considers it to be the right word, since it covers in his view the precise meaning of the Greek term ἡδονή (2,13); cf. C. Lévy (1992), 398-400. 106 Cf. Epist. ad Men. 131; for the three classes of ignorant critics mentioned there, see C. Bailey (1926), 338; for some early examples of this misunderstanding, see D. Sedley (1976), 130. 107 Cf., e.g., Cicero, Tusc. 3,37-38; fin. 2,12 and 2,75. Cicero claims that in his days, the works of Epicurus and Metrodorus were hardly read outside the Epicurean school (Tusc. 2,8), but this is probably a polemical misrepresentation. Plutarch, in any case, has undoubtedly read not only Epicurus, but also Metrodorus and Colotes; cf. K. Ziegler (1951), 922 and J.P. Hershbell (1992), 3356-3363. According to J. Boulogne (2003), 1516 and 80, he also read Lucretius’ poem De rerum natura. 108 Non posse 1100D; more details in Athenaeus, 12, 547a; cf. also Aelian, VH 9,12 and fr. 42a Domingo-Forasté.


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them was an eristic strategy109. The cultivated110 Leontion was especially notorious for her intemperate licentiousness (Athenaeus, 13, 588b = fr. 121 Us.) and it is not unlikely that her name was widely connected with the supposed (sexual) debauchery to which Epicurus ‘exhorted’. The names of these notorious courtesans are followed by a reference to two famous, provocative statements of Epicurus, which could immediately be recognised, certainly by the members of the philosophical schools. The double diptych of instantiations calls for a sarcastic conclusion phrased as a double diptych, too: such rites require darkness and night, oblivion and ignorance (1129B)111. The imagery of light and darkness (cf. σκότους and νυκτός), which already appeared in chapter 2, may primarily be connected to the examples of Hedeia and Leontion and further clarifies the precise meaning of the comparison καθάπερ ἐκ συμποσίου φῶς. As a symposium without light leaves ample room for all sorts of shameful practices, a sequestered life which remains unknown can contain all kinds of dark and wicked actions. It is clear that darkness and sexual profligacy are linked in this perspective112. Epicurus’ statements, on the other hand, deserve λήθη and ἄγνοια. It is interesting to note that this evaluation to a certain extent runs counter to Plutarch’s sincere conviction, argued in chapter 2, that one should precisely disclose one’s shortcomings in order to cure them. Epicurus’ base tenets can only be emended if they are not concealed. But Plutarch is not interested in such an emendation in this context. Merely negative, destructive polemic gains the upper hand over the more positive, constructive reflections of the second chapter of De latenter vivendo. As was also the case in the previous chapters, the maxim λάθε βιώσας is once again isolated from its original context and reinterpreted in the light of the raw material which Plutarch had at his disposal for his anti-Epicurean polemic. By connecting the advice to ‘live unnoticed’ with the traditional, superficial picture of Epicurus’ outrageous hedonism, Plutarch ascribes to the maxim a very dishonourable purpose, that is, the concealment of the moral perversities of the Epicureans. That this criticism would fail to con The same pair returns in Non posse 1089C. In 1097DE, Boidion and Nicidion join the company. A catalogue of courtesans existed from the very beginning of anti-Epicurean polemics, in the work of Timocrates (Diog. Laert. 10,6-7). 110 Leontion wrote a work directed against Theophrastus (Cicero, nat. deor. 1,93). 111 Cf. also Plutarch, fr. 120 Sandbach (although the fragment is probably inauthentic; cf. U. von Wilamowitz (1923), 84). 112 Cf. Plato, Phlb. 65e-66a. That one should better have sexual intercourse in darkness is argued by Plutarch – in agreement with the Cyrenaics, and against the Epicureans – in Non posse 1089AB, although for reasons which are totally different from those at the outset of the fourth chapter of De lat. viv. For a thorough discussion of this passage, see K.-D. Zacher (1982), 120-129; cf. also F. Albini (1993), 175. Epicurus discussed the problem in his Symposium (cf. fr. 61 Us.) and Plutarch dedicated one of his Table-Talks to it (Quaest. conv. 653B-655D). 109

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vince any orthodox Epicurean is immediately evident of course. It is not only based on a complete misunderstanding of the maxim λάθε βιώσας itself, but also on a thorough misinterpretation of the place of the concept of pleasure in the Epicurean system. Epicurus himself explicitly reacts against such ignorance by underlining that it is not the sensual pleasure of profligates which should be regarded as the final end, as some ignorant, disagreeing, or misunderstanding critics suppose, but freedom from corporeal pains and mental troubles113. Whereas pleasure in the orthodox Epicurean perspective should thus primarily be understood as ἀπονία (cf. μήτε ἀλγεῖν κατὰ σῶμα) and ἀταραξία (μήτε ταράττεσθαι κατὰ ψυχήν), Plutarch on the contrary focuses on the more sensual pleasures, thus presenting himself as one of the ἀγνοοῦντες. However, that Plutarch was sufficiently familiar with the Epicurean doctrine of pleasure appears from his polemical discussion in Non posse, where he deals with it in a much more detailed and theoretical way114. In the context of De latenter vivendo, on the contrary, such discussions, which are both more explicit and less impertinent, have to yield to a rhetorical-suggestive praeteritio, which alludes sarcastically to the no doubt widely accepted115 (albeit incorrect) picture of the degenerated community life in the Garden (cf. also Non posse 1097DE). A more complex and differentiating approach thus has to yield to a cheap but assured and immediate success. If that is true, the whole passage illustrates very well that Plutarch was not averse to the eristic strategy of taking advantage of widespread convictions (and prejudices) in order to reach his polemical goal. 3.4.2. To this blameworthy attitude of licentiousness in Epicurean circles, Plutarch then opposes his own programme: ἐὰν δέ τις ἐν μὲν φυσικοῖς θεὸν ὑμνῇ καὶ δίκην καὶ πρόνοιαν, ἐν δὲ ἠθικοῖς νόμον καὶ κοινωνίαν καὶ πολιτείαν, ἐν δὲ πολιτείᾳ τὸ καλὸν ἀλλὰ μὴ τὴν χρείαν, διὰ τί λάθῃ βιώσας116; (1129B = fr. 524 Us.) 113 Cf. Epist. ad Men. 131. On Epicurus’ own frugality, see, e.g., Diog. Laert. 10,11; Seneca, epist. 18,9 (= fr. 158 Us.); Cicero, Tusc. 5,89 (= fr. 472 Us.). 114 See especially the chapters 3-8 (1087D-1092D). In 1092A, the distinction between ἀπονία and ἀταραξία is mentioned, in 1089D and 1090A (= fr. 68 Us.), the formula εὐσταθὲς σαρκὸς κατάστημα appears; cf. also the allusions to the Epicurean theory of ἀπονία and εὐστάθεια τῆς σαρκός in Non posse 1089D (= fr. 68 Us.) and De tuenda 135C (= fr. 8 Us.), the term εὐσταθεῖν in Non posse 1090D (= fr. 68 Us.), the formula λεῖα καὶ προσηνῆ κινήματα τῆς σαρκός in Adv. Colot. 1122E (= fr. 411 Us.), and the interpretation of ἥδεσθαι as τὸ μὴ ἀλγεῖν in Adv. Colot. 1123A (= fr. 420 Us.). See also J. Boulogne (2003), 153-167. 115 An important exception is found in Cicero, fin. 2,81: ac mihi quidem, quod et ipse bonus vir fuit et multi Epicurei et fuerunt et hodie sunt et in amicitiis fideles et in omni vita constantes et graves nec voluptate sed officio consilia moderantes, hoc videtur maior vis honestatis et minor voluptatis. 116 One may recall the conviction of Dio of Prusa 31,39: οὐκοῦν ὅτι μὲν τὰ γιγνόμενα ὀρθῶς καὶ μηθὲν ἔχοντα ἄτοπον οὐδεὶς περιστέλλει, δῆλόν ἐστιν.


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“But take one who in natural philosophy extols God and justice and providence, in ethics law and community and participation in public affairs, and in political life the honourable and not the utilitarian act, what need has he to live unnoticed?” (translation Einarson – De Lacy, slightly modified) This is undoubtedly one of the most important sentences of the little work. It is not only diametrically opposed to the central tenets of Epicureanism, but also contains in a nutshell the general outlines of Plutarch’s own programme of the ‘good life’. Destructive polemics and constructive argument are connected here in a very concise and deliberate way. a) By emphasising in the domain of physics the importance of the belief in God, providence, and justice, Plutarch describes in broad outline a physical theory which is, partly in his own perspective, partly in reality, opposed to Epicurean physics. The place of the gods in Epicurean thinking has been much discussed117. Reacting against widespread superstitious beliefs118, Epicurus in his own way tried to clear the gods of all human viciousness and limitations by placing them in the eternal felicity of the intermundia (μετακόσμια). Moreover, by emphasising already in the first tenet of his Κύριαι δόξαι the fact that the gods do not cause any trouble to men and that they are never distressed by anger or favour, he radically denied divine providence. Epicurus’ conception of the gods thus fits in fairly well with the central presuppositions of his anthropology. Just as human beings in principle only care for themselves, the gods, too, focus only on their own felicity. However, this radical denial of divine providence did not lead to an attitude of atheism. On the contrary, Epicurus himself undoubtedly provided evidence of an earnest piety towards the gods119 and participated in the traditional religious ceremonies which existed in his days120. The charge of atheism against Ep117 Good recent discussions include A.A. Long – D.N. Sedley (1987), I, 145-149; D. Obbink (1989), 194-202; Id. (1996), 5-12; J. Salem (1989), 175-204; M. Erler (1994a), 149-153; and J. Mansfeld (1999), 455-457, 463-464, and 472-475. 118 The impact of superstitious beliefs is minimised by Cicero (nat. deor. 1,86) and Seneca (epist. 24,18), but not by Plutarch (cf. Non posse 1101D, and esp. his treatise De superstitione, which is entirely directed against superstition and which has been connected with Epicurean thinking (cf. A.-J. Festugière (1946), 78; M. Smith (1975), 6 even states that “the piety of ΠΔ is Epicurean”), although it should be placed in a broader tradition; cf. H.A. Moellering (1963), 80-88). 119 Cf. Diog. Laert. 10,10. The Epicurean sage should do the same; cf. Epist. ad Men. 133 and Philodemus, De piet. col. 27,5-8. Moreover, Epicurus himself attacked notorious atheists such as Prodicus, Diagoras, and Critias; cf. Philodemus, De piet. col. 19,1-15 (= fr. 87 Us.). 120 Philodemus, De piet. col. 28,8-28 (= fr. 169 Us.); cf. also col. 20,6-11 and col. 26,5-12.

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curus was formulated only later121, but belonged in Plutarch’s day already to an established anti-Epicurean tradition. More than once in the Corpus Plutarcheum, Epicurus’ attitude towards the gods is sharply condemned122. His active participation in religious rites is regarded as a mere comedy, continuously played for fear of the multitude123, his theoretical convictions are characterised as atheistic124, and his denial of divine providence is directly attacked in De sera numinis vindicta and rejected in other works as well125. That Plutarch also underlines the importance of justice in the domain of physics may come as a surprise, since one would a priori expect the mention of the element of δίκη rather in the field of ethics. Its presence in the domain of physics could perhaps be explained by Plutarch’s thoroughly Platonic theology, in which justice and the good in general are inherently and inextricably bound up with God’s essence126. In Epicurean thinking, on the other Perhaps its origins should be sought in Academic circles (D. Obbink (1989), 215220), even if Philodemus’ main polemic in De pietate is against the Stoics; D. Obbink (1996), 17. 122 Cf., e.g., Non posse 1100E-1103E and Adv. Colot. 1119EF. At the beginning of De sup., Epicurean ἀθεότης is also condemned, although less vehemently than superstition (164F). See further J. Boulogne (2003), 107-122. 123 Cf. Non posse 1102B; cf. also Adv. Colot. 1112C. Plutarch’s argument can be traced back to a commonly accepted anti-Epicurean tradition; cf. Cicero, nat. deor. 1,123 and 3,3; Origen, Cels. 7,66 (= fr. 390 Us.); Eusebius, PE 14,27,11 and 15,5,12 (=Atticus, fr. 3 Baudry); see finally Plutarch, De Stoic. rep. 1034C for the Stoic attack against Epicurus’ inconsistency on this point, and, for Epicurus’ more general custom of disguising what he really thought, Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1111B and Cicero, fin. 2,21. Philodemus knew this traditional criticism (cf. De piet. col. 49,9-19) and emphatically refuted it, arguing that Epicurus not only took part in many festivals and religious celebrations (col. 51,3-13), but moreover elaborated extensive arguments for the existence of the gods and attacked notorious atheists, something he would never have done if he indeed merely feigned to believe in the existence of the gods for the sake of avoiding a bad reputation; col. 17,5-21. 124 De sup. 164F-165A; Non posse 1100C and 1101B; Adv. Colot. 1119C; 1119EF; 1124D and 1125D-F. 125 See, e.g., De def. or. 414F and 420B; De Stoic. rep. 1051E-1052B; De comm. not. 1075E (= fr. 368 Us. and SVF 2,1126); Non posse 1092BC; 1100D; 1101C-1103B; Adv. Colot. 1123A and 1124E; Pyrrh. 20,3-4; J.P. Hershbell (1992), 3376-3378; see also J.P. Hershbell (1987), 246 on De an. procr. The formula τὸ δὲ μακάριον καὶ ἄφθαρτον ἔστω μὲν οἷον αὐτὸ μὴ φροντίζειν τῶν καθ’ ἡμᾶς in Quaest. conv. 655D of course does not imply that Plutarch seriously shared this Epicurean point of view, but rather betrays Plutarch’s irony; cf. also S.-T. Teodorsson (1989), 365. 126 This idea forms the basis of De sera num., and returns often in the whole Corpus, cf., e.g., Ad princ. iner. 781B; Arist. 6,2; De def. or. 423D; cf. further Plutarch’s Platonic interpretation of the Egyptian gods Osiris and Isis (De Is. et Os. 369A-383A), and also B. Latzarus (1920); C.J. Gianakaris (1970), 116; D.A. Russell (1973), 81; E. Valgiglio (1988), 15-17. 121


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hand, justice has a completely different part to play. It is not primarily connected to the gods, whose principal characteristics are aptly summarised in the formula τὸ μακάριον καὶ ἄφθαρτον127, but is in the first place important in the domain of social ethics, as the useful result of a contract which serves one’s own benefit. It is always subservient to pleasure128 and can never be founded in either nature or the gods. The above discussion, concise though it may be, sufficiently shows the radical differences in orientation between Plutarch’s and Epicurus’ physics. Contrary to Epicurean physical thinking, which is ultimately based on atomism, Plutarch’s general programme of physics, with its emphasis on divine providence and justice, rests on, and is fundamentally justified by, a theological perspective. b) In the domain of ethics, Plutarch underlines the importance of νόμος, κοινωνία, and πολιτεία. It is immediately clear of course that this selection is strongly conditioned by Plutarch’s polemical goal. Fundamental ethical topics such as friendship, rational control of the passions, and even virtue itself have to yield to some of the basic topics in socio-political philosophy. Like the three fundamental pillars of Plutarch’s physics, the three elements which occupy a central place in his ethics are, partly in Plutarch’s own perspective, partly in reality, opposed to the Epicurean perspective. Epicurus’ attitude towards the law is one of the difficult cruces in modern research. It is clear that the existing laws were highly valued in the Garden, since they formed a strong guarantee of security and rest in the state129. Colotes even went so far as to argue that, if anyone abrogates the established legislation, we will again live like brutes, all but devouring one another130. The laws thus serve the ἀταραξία of the orthodox Epicurean, but will this or127 Cf. RS 1 = SV 1. That Epicurus brings especially those characteristics into focus, rather than justice, is at least partly connected with his explicit denial of divine providence. 128 Cf. Cicero, fin. 1,53 (= fr. 397 Us.) and 2,69. 129 See, e.g., R. Philippson (1910); R. Müller (1974) and (1983); V. Goldschmidt (1977) and A. Alberti (1995). 130 Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1124D. Plutarch’s answer stresses the importance of philosophical norms, which should be sufficient to guarantee the security and justice of the state (1124DE; cf. also Cicero, fin. 2,73). This position may be traced back to Xenocrates (cf. Plutarch, De virt. mor. 446E and Adv. Colot. 1124E; Cicero, rep. 1,3) and more generally to the Platonic school (cf. already Aristotle, ap. Diog. Laert. 5,20; R. Westman (1955), 277; M. Isnardi Parente (1988), 87). Epicurus’ objection to Plutarch’s criticism would no doubt be that Plutarch’s ideal is simply a utopian dream. If everyone would have the right opinions about what is useful, legislation would have been unnecessary (cf. Hermarchus’ argument in Porphyry, Abst. 1,8,4), but as things are, fear of punishment, determined by law, is the only remedy against ignorance of usefulness (1,8,3). Plutarch should have known that this Epicurean position bears in fact some resemblance to Plato’s δεύτερος πλοῦς, cf. Lg. 9, 874e-875d.

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thodox Epicurean also obey the laws? Plutarch himself mentions that Epicurus asked himself the difficult question whether the sage will break the law if he knows that he will not be found out, and that he gave the notoriously vague (evasive? or rather sharply differentiating?) answer: “the unqualified predication (ἐπικατηγόρημα) is not free from difficulty” (Adv. Colot. 1127D = fr. 18 Us.). In any case, obedience to the law will be based in the Epicurean perspective on personal advantage. But transgressing the laws will never prove to be advantageous, since no one can be absolutely certain that his crime will never be discovered and punished131. As a consequence, the criminal is doomed to suffer unremitting agonies of doubt, coupled with fears of punishment which are destructive of all tranquillity of mind132. The explicit presupposition of the question, εἰδὼς ὅτι λήσει, thus appears to be only significant in the perspective of Epicurus’ opponents133, whereas in the Epicurean perspective, it appears a priori as insignificant, since it is illusory and fictitious134. What is especially important for our study, however, is Plu131 Cf. RS 35 = SV 6; Lucretius, 5,1154-1157; Philodemus, De piet. col. 77a,7-14; Cicero, fin. 1,50 (= fr. 397 Us.); Plutarch, Non posse 1090CD (= fr. 532 Us.); Seneca, epist. 97,13 (= fr. 532 Us.); cf. also RS 34; Cicero, fin. 2,53; Seneca, epist. 97,15 (= fr. 531 Us.). The Epicurean sage will thus generally obey the laws both to the letter and to the spirit, even if he remains unnoticed (Philodemus, Rhet. i, 259, col. xxv, 1 – 260, col. xxv, 11 S.), for the just is most free from trouble (cf. RS 17), and tranquillity of mind is the greatest fruit of justice (Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 6,2,24,10 = fr. 519 Us.). Hence, the Epicurean sage has no need of the laws in order to refrain from injustice: he only needs them to protect him against being wronged (Stobaeus, 4,1,143 = fr. 530 Us.; Porphyry, Abst. 1,7,3). 132 But if fear of punishment is indeed the only means to keep a potential criminal from injustice, it follows of course that one should also nourish superstitious fears of cruel punishments in the afterlife in order to reduce criminality as much as possible. Plutarch explicitly makes this objection in Non posse 1104B; cf. also Eusebius, PE 15,5,5-6 = Atticus, fr. 3 Baudry, and fr. 532 Us.). For the Epicurean reply to this argument, see Cicero, fin. 1,51 and Philodemus, De piet. col. 77A,14 – col. 77B,8. Moreover, in Porphyry, Abst. 1,9,3, Hermarchus explains the fact that the legislators have themselves prescribed purificatory rites for legal homicide by their intentions to deter the criminal from crime. 133 In anti-Epicurean polemics, this presupposition was sometimes explicitly argued; cf., e.g., Epictetus, 3,7,11-14. 134 The Epicurean attitude is described very well by Cicero, off. 3,39. Having adduced Plato’s famous tale of Gyges as the illustration par excellence of the condition of perfect certainty, Cicero confronts Epicurus with this case: haec est vis huius anuli et huius exempli: si nemo sciturus, nemo ne suspicaturus quidem sit, cum aliquid divitiarum, potentiae, dominationis, libidinis causa feceris, si id dis hominibusque futurum sit semper ignotum, sisne facturus. Negant id fieri posse. Nequaquam potest id quidem; sed quaero, quod negant posse, id si posset, quidnam facerent. Urguent rustice sane; negant enim posse et in eo perstant; hoc verbum quid valeat, non vident. Cum enim quaerimus, si celare possint, quid facturi sint, non quaerimus possintne celare. “Il est difficile de mieux


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tarch’s interpretation of Epicurus’ answer and that is perfectly clear. For Plutarch is kind enough to translate Epicurus’ technical words into much easier language: “that is: I shall do it, but I do not want to admit it” (1127D)135. Of course this evaluation is malicious and over-simplified136, to say the least, but it is important for a correct understanding of Plutarch’s basic programme of the ‘good life’ as it is presented in the fourth chapter of De latenter vivendo, since it further reveals Plutarch’s disapproval of at least some important aspects of the Epicurean philosophy of law. Even though there can be little doubt about Epicurus’ general appreciation of the existing legislation, Plutarch’s indignant rejection of Epicurus’ philosophy of law at the end of Adv. Colot. shows that his emphasis on obedience to the law in this passage is intended as a vehement polemical attack against Epicurus137. The term κοινωνία opens up a different domain of discussion in the field of social ethics. In Epicurus’ view, human community does not exist by nature (Epictetus, 2,20,6 = fr. 523 Us.), because human beings are not social by nature (Themistius, Or. 26, 324a = fr. 551 Us.), but only on the basis of a kind of social contract which aims at personal advantage. When Plutarch introduces community as a central key term in the domain of ethics, he does so on the basis of a completely different argumentation. A passage of paramount importance in this context is An seni 791C, where he tries to demonstrate that engaging in politics does not aim at other purposes (πρὸς ἄλλο τι), but has its end in itself. Participation in political life should indeed be regarded as the way of life of a tamed138, political, and social139 animal, intended by nature to live as a humane citizen who loves honourable things140. rapporter la pensée d’un adversaire, et de si peu la comprendre”; thus V. Goldschmidt (1977), 122. The basis of the Epicurean attitude is of course the unpredictability of the future, which implies a radical rejection of all kinds of divination; cf. Diog. Laert. 10,135 (= fr. 27 Us.); Cicero, nat. deor. 2,162 (= fr. 395 Us.); cf. also Plutarch, De Pyth. or. 397C and De def. or. 434D; Cicero, div. 2,39. Epicurus’ position is attacked by Plutarch in Adv. Colot. 1123A; cf. also Non posse 1100D. 135 The same interpretation can be found in Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 4,22,2122 (= fr. 582 Us.) and Origen, Cels. 7,63 (= fr. 535 Us.); cf. also Cicero, fin. 2,28. 136 Cf. R. Westman (1955), 187; V. Goldschmidt (1977), 121; K.-D. Zacher (1982), 172; N. Denyer (1983), 145-146 (“Plutarch is uncharitable. Epicurus’ answer would indeed have been complex, but it would have been more than simply an attempt to obscure his intention to wrong people”); R. Müller (1983), 121; P.A. Vander Waerdt (1987), 408; J. Boulogne (2003), 194. 137 Even though it also fits in very well with Plutarch’s own philosophical position; see, e.g., H. Weber (1959), 45-46. 138 Cf. Plato, Lg. 6, 766a; Phd. 82b; Aristotle, Top. 5, 128b17-18; cf. also Plutarch, Pomp. 28,3. 139 Cf. Aristotle, Pol. 1, 1253a2-4; cf. also Pol. 3, 1278b19; EN 1, 1097b11; EE 7, 1242a22-26. 140 Cf. also Praec. ger. reip. 798E.

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This passage clearly implies a total rejection of the Epicurean doctrine, showing as it does that the foundations of social commitment should not be sought in personal advantage141, but in the nature itself of man as a ζῷον πολιτικόν142. Contrary to Epicurus, Plutarch still endorses the well-known Aristotelian portrayal of man as a ζῷον πολιτικόν143. The term κοινωνία thus points to more fundamental presuppositions about the nature of man, and as such leaves behind the sphere of superficial (often erroneous) attacks, in order to reach a far more fundamental level. In the domain of ethics, Plutarch finally emphasises the importance of the element of πολιτεία. This is radically opposed to the well-known Epicurean doctrine of μὴ πολιτεύσεσθαι (Diog. Laert. 10,119 = fr. 8 Us.), even though Plutarch, as usual, exaggerates the opposition by absolutising Epicurus’ position. At the same time, it is in conformity with Plutarch’s own firm convictions. The important part that politics has to play in the field of ethics is a direct consequence of Plutarch’s portrayal of man as a ζῷον πολιτικόν, a view which had been supported ever since Plato made this one of the Leitmotive of the Academic-Peripatetic tradition144. It is further motivated by Plutarch in his short treatise Maxime cum principibus philosopho esse disserendum, where he argues that a public-spirited philosopher who associates with a ruler can benefit many through one individual and maximise his personal usefulness and pleasure at once145. For these reasons, Epicurus’ socio-political thinking appears to Plutarch not merely as a destruction of laws and politics, but even of human living as a whole (Adv. Colot. 1127DE). c) In the domain of politics, finally, what is honourable (τὸ καλόν) should have the upper hand over usefulness (χρεία)146. Whereas from a purely syn Cf. the third pillar of Plutarch’s basic programme: τὸ καλὸν ἀλλὰ μὴ τὴν χρείαν. One may recall another such programme of the ‘good life’ in Adv. Colot. 1108C: τὸ δὲ εὖ ζῆν ἐστι κοινωνικῶς ζῆν καὶ φιλικῶς καὶ σωφρόνως καὶ δικαίως κτλ. The Epicureans, on the other hand, promote a βίον ἀνέξοδον καὶ ἀπολίτευτον καὶ ἀφιλάνθρωπον καὶ ἀνενθουσίαστον (Non posse 1098D). In De tuenda 135B, the Epicurean way of life is characterised as ἐπίσκιόν τινα βίον καὶ σχολαστὴν καὶ μονότροπόν τινα καὶ ἄφιλον καὶ ἄδοξον ἀπωτάτω πολιτείας. In Adv. Colot. 1108D, finally, Plutarch mentions the anti-Epicurean criticism of other philosophers: ὅτι ζῆν ἀγεννῶς καὶ θηριωδῶς διδάσκουσι. 143 According to A. Masaracchia (1995), 227-230, the passage from An seni can be traced back to Aristotle, EN 1, 1094a1-1094b27. For Aristotle’s doctrine of man as a ζῷον πολιτικόν, see R.G. Mulgan (1974); W. Kullmann (1980); J.M. Cooper (1990); D.J. Depew (1995); for Plutarch’s knowledge of Aristotle’s Politics, see K. Ziegler (1951), 922; G.J.D. Aalders – L. de Blois (1992), 3397-3398; but contra: R. Volkmann (1869), II, 23; F.H. Sandbach (1982), 219-220. 144 Cf., e.g., P.-M. Schuhl (1946/7); M. Isnardi Parente (1988), 75-76 and 85-88; A. Wörle (1981); K. Trampedach (1994). 145 Cf. G. Roskam (2002). 146 This may recall Plato’s distinction between καλόν and ἀναγκαῖον in R. 7, 540b (cf. V. Goldschmidt (1977), 159); but see in the first place Aristotle, EE 1, 1216a23-27. 141 142


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tactic point of view, the domain of politics is on a level with physics and ethics, with regard to content, the discussion of political topics belongs to the sphere of (social) ethics. In fact, the last pole of Plutarch’s ethical programme is further elaborated. What is the purpose of this more specific elaboration? By disconnecting the field of politics from the more general field of ethics, Plutarch primarily gives in to the rhetorical demands of his thesis, bringing about a somewhat artificial tricolon. Second, he in this way upgrades the field of politics and emphasises even more the radical opposition between his own position and the Epicurean socio-political philosophy. Finally, he thus succeeds in opposing his whole programme of the ‘good life’ to Epicurus’ ‘egoistic hedonism’, which he attacks in the opening sentences of the fourth chapter. Indeed, by preferring what is honourable (τὸ καλόν) to what is useful (ἡ χρεία), Plutarch not only rejects the general Epicurean custom of giving each action a utilitarian foundation, but also Epicurus’ vehement attack on absolute virtue, crystallised in the provocative formula τῷ καλῷ προσπτύειν just mentioned before. In opposition, the emphasis on τὸ καλόν reveals the fundamental importance of absolute virtue in Plutarch’s ethical thinking147. Contrary to Epicureanism, which radically rejects all virtues if they are not conducive to pleasure148, Plutarch, in line with the Academic-Peripatetic tradition and falling back on a well-thought out moral psychology, takes seriously the importance of ethical virtue for personal completion. d) Plutarch’s blue-print of his own programme of the ‘good life’ near the beginning of the fourth chapter is of paramount importance for two reasons. First of all, his anti-Epicurean polemic against the maxim λάθε βιώσας gains more depth and relevance. For whereas his foregoing attempts to pass external criticism were limited to some superficial attacks on consequences of unquestioned presuppositions, he now launches an attack on different fronts at once. Some major issues of Epicurus’ ethical doctrine as well as central topics in the domain of physics are both rejected in one short sentence. This considerable increase in scale involves a more fundamental kind of criticism. For it is no longer some supposed consequences of the Epicurean doctrine that are questioned, but the foundations themselves. Epicurus’ basically selfcentred perspective is now replaced by a perspective which has natural Cf. K.-D. Zacher (1982), 70-71, on Non posse 1087C: “Wir können daher honestum und virtutes gewissermaßen synonym nebeneinander verwenden. Dasselbe gilt an unserer Stelle für καλόν [...] Hier umfaßt der Ausdruck τὸ καλόν die ἀρεταί schlechthin, ohne sie näher zu specifizieren”; see also R. Müller (1991), 79. 148 Cf. Athenaeus, 12, 546f (= fr. 70 Us.); Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1108C (= fr. 512 Us.); Diog. Laert. 10,138 (= fr. 504 Us.); Seneca, dial. 7,9,1 (= fr. 504 Us.); Cicero, fin. 1,4254. Nevertheless, Epicurus insists that personal happiness is not possible without virtue (Epist. ad Men. 132) and that virtue is the necessary (and even sufficient) condition for happiness (Diog. Laert. 10,138 = fr. 506 Us.). A good discussion of Epicurus’ position can be found in D. Sedley (1996), 336-338. 147

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human sociality as one of its essential foundations. It is this passage which makes the presuppositions of Plutarch’s external criticism for the first time explicit. This does not lead to a more theoretical and extensive argumentation, though. On the contrary, Plutarch’s own programme is simply presented as self-evident. This is in the first place the direct consequence of the polemical character of De latenter vivendo. Plutarch is not motivated by a constructive goal but merely aims at a negative refutation of his philosophical opponent. It is to that purpose that he overemphasises, without any further argumentation but by means of a simple rhetorical question, the sharp opposition between his own programme and Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’. If one endorses Plutarch’s own philosophical presuppositions, his argumentation forms the definitive refutation of the maxim. That an orthodox Epicurean will not be convinced by Plutarch’s argumentation needs no further comment. In that sense, Plutarch’s argumentation is especially interesting because it contains, albeit at a far more fundamental level, an important degree of self-assurance. This observation brings us to the second reason. The programmatic sentence throws an interesting light on the general outlines of Plutarch’s own social ethics. It shows that man, in Plutarch’s view, is a social being by nature, who should participate in socio-political life and there act in obedience to the laws and with reverence to the honourable course. Moreover, the direct relation that exists between these basic beacons in the field of social ethics and his physico-theological thinking gives Plutarch’s ethics also a theonomic aspect. e) That this programme as set out in the fourth chapter of De latenter vivendo indeed provides a good survey of Plutarch’s philosophical convictions is further illustrated by a comparison with a passage taken from De amore prolis, a short work which is also directed against Epicurean philosophy149. Plutarch there characterises man as a rational, political animal, who is introduced by nature to justice and law, worship of the gods, the founding of cities and friendliness (495c: ἄνθρωπον δέ, λογικὸν καὶ πολιτικὸν ζῷον, ἐπὶ δίκην καὶ νόμον εἰσάγουσα καὶ θεῶν τιμὰς καὶ πόλεων ἱδρύσεις καὶ φιλοφροσύνην, κτλ.). In this key passage, too, Plutarch underlines the foundations of his own social ethics within the framework of anti-Epicurean polemics. The Aristotelian conception of man as a (λογικὸν καὶ) πολιτικὸν ζῷον fits in perfectly with the context of the passage, where Plutarch argues in favour of the natural foundations of human sociality in order to demonstrate his thesis that parental love for children is natural. Compliance with the law and the political dimension of ethics (the latter being crystallised in the general πόλεων ἱδρύσεις) are here likewise explicitly founded in nature. In that way, νόμος, κοινωνία, and πολιτεία, which formed the three basic pillars of Plu Cf. supra, 3.1.1; see esp. A. Barigazzi (1994) and G. Roskam (forthcoming).

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tarch’s ethical programme in the fourth chapter of De latenter vivendo, are all grounded in nature. The element of justice also returns, this time, however, not within the framework of theological physics, but closely connected to law as basic element of a naturally founded social ethics. The concrete virtue of φιλοφροσύνη150 refers to the central importance of Plutarch’s virtue ethics, which is thus also conditioned by his basic anthropological point of view. It is striking, finally, that Plutarch with the element of θεῶν τιμάς here as well integrates the religious perspective into his list. Here as in De latenter vivendo, one should primarily bear in mind Plutarch’s polemical purposes. By enlarging the list of elements that are opposed to the ‘Epicurean’ position, Plutarch takes care that the differences between the Epicurean (‘unnatural’) doctrine and his own (natural) position are emphasised as much as possible. However, one should also point to an important difference between the two programmes with regard to the aspect of religion. Whereas Plutarch in chapter 4 of De latenter vivendo draws a clear distinction between physics and ethics (with politics as a central subdiscipline of ethics), giving religion (θεὸν ὑμνῇ) its usual place within the framework of physics, his basic programme of De amore prolis appears to be situated entirely within the field of social ethics. But what can be the relevance of θεῶν τιμάς as one of the fundamental pillars in the field of social ethics? An important passage in the concluding section of Adv. Colot. offers some interesting information on this point. According to Plutarch, religion should occupy the most important place in the legislation, as has been keenly perceived by great legislators such as Lycurgus, Numa, Ion, and Deucalion (1125D)151. Moreover, one can find cities without walls, writings, kings, etc., but a city without religion has never been found and will never be found (1125DE)152. Plutarch even radicalises the central importance of religion. The worship of the gods turns out to be more important for the founding or survival of the city than the ground on which it is built (1125E)153. In short, as the support and pedestal which holds all society and legislation together (1125E: τοῦτο μέντοι τὸ συνεκτικὸν ἁπάσης κοινωνίας καὶ νομοθεσίας ἔρεισμα καὶ βάθρον)154, religion is the constitutive conditio sine qua non of each community and thus a vital foundation of each project of social ethics. 150 For the recurrence of φιλοφροσύνη in the Lives, cf. B. Bucher-Isler (1972), 21 (with n. 243). 151 This is another example of Plutarch’s technique of arguing by means of concrete examples. For the importance of both ἐλπίς and φόβος in this passage, cf. also Non posse 1101D. 152 In De comm. not. 1075A, however, Plutarch is more cautious, as is Cotta in Cicero, nat. deor. 1,63. It should be noted that the universality of religious beliefs was regarded in Epicureanism as one of the proofs of the existence of the gods; Cicero, nat. deor. 1,62; cf. also 1,43 (= fr. 352 Us.). 153 Hence, the Romans were convinced that their magistrates should revere religion rather than overcome their enemies (Marc. 4,4). 154 Similarly Cicero, nat. deor. 1,4; cf. also leg. 2,16.

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3.4.3. By revealing his own programme of the ‘good life’, Plutarch’s criticism of Epicurus’ maxim reached a more fundamental level. The rhetorical question διὰ τί λάθῃ βιώσας, at the end of the central sentence, channels this broader perspective in an elegant and pregnant way into the more confined perspective of the running polemic. In the remaining part of the fourth chapter, Plutarch further elaborates upon various topics that he had discussed in the foregoing chapters. This does not imply, however, that Plutarch merely repeats what he has already treated and only loosely connects his different topics. He rather places his previous reflections, which hardly surpassed the level of fragmentary self-assurance, into a broader perspective, from which they derive their final significance. a) The man who follows Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ will not educate anyone and his virtue will not be an honourable example (παράδειγμα καλόν) which can be emulated (1129B). The utilitarian-altruistic pole of the dichotomy at the beginning of the second chapter (εἴτε ἀρετὴν ἔχεις, μὴ γένῃ ἄχρηστος; 1128D), which was elaborated in chapter 3, is now linked to the ethical-pedagogical aspect which was introduced at the end of the second chapter as the alternative of the Epicurean pole characterised by the term ἀθεράπευτος. In this way, Plutarch’s pedagogic presuppositions receive their necessary complement. Having already demonstrated that wicked fools need guidance on their way to moral virtue (1128DE), Plutarch now suggests, again by means of a rhetorical question, that the virtuous for their part ought to provide honourable examples to the education of others. That the utilitarian aspect inherent in this position here fades into the background (cf. the positive παράδειγμα καλόν instead of the negative formula μὴ γένῃ ἄχρηστος in the dichotomy), is the direct consequence of the emphasis laid on τὸ καλόν in politics, at the cost of ἡ χρεία, in the central programme which immediately precedes. Once again, this argument is more important for the information it provides regarding Plutarch’s own position than for its anti-Epicurean criticism155. In fact, Plutarch here further elaborates on one aspect of his basic programme of the ‘good life’. b) Referring to Themistocles, Camillus, and Plato, Plutarch then introduces three such honourable examples (1129BC)156, thus returning to the general eristic strategy which he also used at the beginning of the third chapter. As a result, the emphasis on the ethical-pedagogical aspect again has to yield to a new discussion of the utilitarian-altruistic aspect in its broader sense (as in the first part of chapter 3). Demonstrating the funda155 The Epicureans elaborated their own system of moral pedagogy, as appears in the first place from Philodemus’ De lib. dic.; cf. supra, 3.3.3.1b. 156 It is interesting to note in this context that Plutarch more than once underlines the importance of being known (γνώριμος) in the Lives; see, e.g., Brut. 24,3; Them. 26,1; Dion 32,2; Alc. 13,1; cf. also F. Frazier (1996), 120.


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mental importance which a talented individual can have for a whole community, even for a whole people, Plutarch indirectly introduces the concept of the public interest. Since this notion, which is alien to Epicureanism157, can now be understood in the light of the natural sociability of man, the three counterexamples of the fourth chapter outweigh the five parallel counterexamples at the outset of the third one, precisely because they can now be placed within a more general philosophical perspective that challenges the Epicurean point of view. c) Plutarch then illustrates his convictions through a new comparison, which is again based on the imagery of light. Just as light makes us not only visible but also useful to each other, so being known makes our virtues not only famous, but also makes further action possible (1129C). The same basic ideas return, but are now discussed from the perspective of fame. Contrary to Epicurus’ attitude, who strove for fame “with his back turned to it” (1128C), Plutarch considers fame to be the self-evident consequence of a virtue that does not follow the Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας. At the same time, fame turns out to be the conditio sine qua non of serving the public interest. That fame should indeed be regarded as a necessary condition of the useful accomplishments of the virtuous also appears from the example of Epameinondas, who failed to make himself useful to the Thebans as long as he remained unknown, but who, once having entered public life, made use of the opportunity to save both his home town and the whole of Greece (1129C). The same idea is elaborated in several other Plutarchan works. In his Political precepts, Plutarch argues that fame is useful for a politician because it will inspire confidence, which will in turn create willingness in his people and thus add to his power (821BC)158. For that reason, a statesman can sometimes even indulge in self-praise, when it will enable him to accomplish some great achievement (De se ipsum laud. 539E), since he regards his fame mainly as a stimulus to honourable actions (539F). By focusing on the great achievements of the virtuous, Plutarch thus returns to the close connection between virtue and usefulness, to the problem of the public interest, and to the utilitarian-altruistic aspect in general. d) The comparison to the situation of a house, taken from Sophocles’ work, introduces the last part of the fourth chapter (1129CD): just as a house, brilliant when used, totters when it remains unused, so a man’s character gets mouldy in the inaction of obscurity (ἀπραξία δι’ ἀγνοίας)159. Indeed, both body and soul pine away in a life of inactivity (cf. also De tuenda 135BC and Cf. Metrodorus’ notorious statement, quoted by Plutarch in Non posse 1098CD; cf. also Non posse 1100D and Adv. Colot. 1125D. 158 Cf. G. Roskam (2004/5), 99-100; see also Maxime cum principibus 777EF, and Agis 2,1, with the discussion of G. Roskam (2005c). 159 For Plutarch’s use of the term ἀπραξία in this context, cf. supra, 3.3.3.2c. 157

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Eum. 11,3). By means of a second comparison, Plutarch further develops this position: as pools of stagnant water, overshadowed by branches, putrefy, similarly one’s innate powers (αἱ σύμφυτοι δυνάμεις) grow old and waste away when nothing good flows from them and nobody “drinks of them” (1129D). By pointing once again to the pernicious consequences which the maxim λάθε βιώσας160 has for both body and soul, Plutarch attaches a negative, polemical complement to the positive view which he has just defended161. This complement also leads to a fine conclusion to the fourth chapter. For this final argument, which stresses the importance of social commitment for human self-realisation (“the innate powers can only be developed while actively labouring for the interest of others”), he indeed connects the utilitarian-egoistic and utilitarian-altruistic components harmoniously within the framework of the anti-Epicurean polemic. The basic arguments which are developed before thus implicitly or explicitly return at the very end of the fourth chapter. At the same time, the argumentation of the fifth chapter is already anticipated. In that way, the first main part of De latenter vivendo (setting aside chapter 1, which forms a separate entity) has come to a wellconsidered and culminating end. 3.5. Man as a social being 3.5.1. Chapter 5 consists of one long period, which has not received the attention it deserves162. At first sight, its argument appears very simple, even trivial: “Everyone can see that people sleep at night and go back to work at daybreak”. The opposition between the effects of night and day on the conduct of human beings thus forms the basic idea of Plutarch’s argumentation in this chapter. The imagery of light and darkness, already present in the second and the fourth chapter and now made more concrete in the opposition between day and night, thus comes to the fore. The apparent simplicity of the idea in this sentence, however, conceals several important arguments on different levels. a) At the most ‘superficial’ level, Plutarch describes some data which can be empirically verified. This is the level of everyday life. At night, the body is overpowered by a heaviness which makes it hard to work (δυσεργεῖς Which is again misunderstood, as appears from characterisations as ἀπραξία δι’ ἀγνοίας, ἡσυχία κωφή, βίος ἑδραῖος and ἀκίνητος βίος. 161 Cf. the switch from γνῶσις (and δόξα) to ἄγνοια and from πρᾶξις to ἀπραξία. Plutarch’s position is somewhat ambivalent here, in that it is both a consequence of, and offers an argument in favour of, the general anthropological conception of man as a ζῷον πολιτικόν. 162 Short discussions are found in G. Verbeke (1962), 22-23 and A. Barigazzi (1990), 52. 160


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βαρύτητες) and the soul by impotent hesitations (ὄκνοι ἀδρανεῖς), whereas reason shrinks back into itself like a faint fire, overcome with scattered fancies (διεσπασμέναις φαντασίαις), so that one can hardly see that the sleeping man is still alive (1129DE). At sunrise, on the other hand, men wake up from their sleep; their actions and thoughts come together and all get back to work again (1129E). The period can thus be divided into two clear, distinct parts, which respectively illustrate the effects of the night and those of the day. Near the end of the fourth chapter, Plutarch argued that virtue necessarily leads to action. Participation in public life for the sake of the public interest indeed appeared to be of prime importance for personal self-completion. This πρᾶξις (1129C) should thus in the first place be understood as political action, which was part and parcel of Plutarch’s basic programme of the ‘good life’. In the fifth chapter, Plutarch tries to argue this position, although he always remains within the context of his anti-Epicurean polemics. Why should one prefer political πρᾶξις to the ‘ἀπραξία’ which the ‘Epicurean’ maxim λάθε βιώσας implies? Plutarch directly borrows his argument from everyday life. In his opinion, the ordinary, commonly accepted custom to sleep at night and work during the day163 conflicts with Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’. By exhorting one to a kind of inactive inertion, Epicurus, as it were, turns the day into a night164 and thus proves to be at odds with commonly accepted practices. Once again, Plutarch uses one of the formal eristic strategies which were current in the polemical debates between the various philosophical schools, viz. the argument of consensus omnium165. In order to adapt this general matrix of argumentation to the proper context of his polemic, he cannot but isolate once again the Epicurean maxim from its original context, interpreting it as an exhortation to ἀπραξία, to inactive languor suitable for the night and not for the day. That this is not what Epicurus intended to say is obvious of course. One may add that the cogency of the traditional argument of consensus omnium is rather weak in any case and

163 Cf. Quaest. conv. 654F: τὴν γὰρ ἑσπέραν, ὦ ἑταῖρε, τῶν πόνων ἀνάπαυσιν νομιστέον, τὸν δ’ ὄρθρον ἀρχήν, κτλ.; see also 728C on the Pythagorean precept to shake off one’s bedclothes immediately after rising. In 722EF, Aristodemus of Cyprus, trying to answer the question why sounds carry better at night than during the day, makes use of the same idea. 164 Cf. also fr. 120 Sandbach, where the Epicurean position is no doubt described (on the authenticity of the fragment, cf. supra, n. 111). In Quaest. conv. 654E-655D, Epicurus’ theory concerning the suitable time for coition is attacked by Soclarus with similar arguments: a man should not make love during the day, for then he has many occupations which exert their pressure. By depriving Aphrodite of night, Epicurus thus turns the day into a night. 165 One may recall Plutarch’s anti-Stoic polemic De comm. not., even though one should take care not to equate the Stoic theory of κοιναὶ ἔννοιαι with the argument of consensus omnium; cf. D. Obbink (1992), 202-225.

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that its persuasiveness is in the first place based on its rhetorical appeal166. In this passage, this is illustrated by the rhetorical question (οὐχ ὁρᾷς), which has to emphasise even more the evident character of Plutarch’s objection. From a logical point of view, however, the argument of consensus omnium obviously proves to be a fallacy, since it moves erroneously from the descriptive (“everyone thinks/acts so”) to the normative level (“thus it is true/ should be done”). Moreover, it also runs counter to the fundamental tendency, present in all important philosophical schools of the Hellenistic and Roman period, to dissociate oneself from the inconsiderate opinions of the great crowd167. At this level, Plutarch’s argument is certainly unconvincing. b) However, the argument based on the customs of everyday life hides a second argument at a deeper, physical level. Plutarch does not limit himself to merely describing the empirically verifiable effects which day and night have on the conduct of human beings. Indeed, the way in which those effects are depicted, suggests that Plutarch is talking about a natural process. For it is at nightfall that sleep makes its influence felt on body and soul and it is the sun itself which plays an important part in urging man to action. The natural alternation of day and night apparently conditions the actual life of man. This shows that the actions of man belong to a more extensive, natural process, which all men share (cf. ἁπάντων). This adds a far more fundamental observation to the rather superficial argument of consensus omnium. Epicurus’ exhortation to ‘inactivity’ is not only opposed to the commonly accepted customs, but also to the intentions of nature itself. For it is nature which has prescribed to rest at night and work by day. The close relation between virtue and (political) action thus receives a deeper dimension. c) Moreover, the physical argument is further supported by an anthropological argument. For Plutarch here argues in a more explicit way the anthropological view that was already implicitly present in the fourth chapter, viz. the characterisation of man as a ζῷον πολιτικόν, as being social by nature. Indeed, in Plutarch’s terms, men set to work, “drawn by their impulse towards one another as by a strong bond” (τῇ πρὸς ἀλλήλους ὁρμῇ καθάπερ ἀρτήματι συντόνῳ σπασθέντες). Not one trace of rational, Epicurean computation is to be found in human mutual contacts168. The term ὁρμή denotes an impulse which is situated at an infra-rational level169 and the use of ἄρτημα, 166 Cf. already Socrates’ objection to Polus in Plato, Grg. 471e-472a; cf. also the position of Epictetus, 2,11,15. 167 The clearest example is Stoicism, where only the Stoic sage is said to be wise, whereas all other people are considered to be ignorant fools; cf. G. Roskam (2005a). For Epicureanism, see, e.g., fr. 187 Us. 168 Cf. also the position of Aristotle, Pol. 1, 1253a29-30: φύσει μὲν οὖν ἡ ὁρμὴ ἐν πᾶσιν ἐπὶ τὴν τοιαύτην κοινωνίαν. 169 Cf. Adv. Colot. 1122B-D; cf. J. Opsomer (1998), 87-98.


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which is a very strong term in this context and is emphasised even more by the addition of σύντονος, further underlines the intensity of this natural ὁρμὴ πρὸς ἀλλήλους. Man is pre-eminently social by nature170. Epicurus’ radical individualism proves to be suited to the night, which dissolves sociality and disperses human beings (cf. ἄλλος ἀλλαχόθεν). The day, on the other hand, brings men together. The argument of consensus omnium, situated at the most superficial level, does not yet prove the existence of social life, for everyone could also individually opt for action, without considering the interest of other persons. It is only by connecting the argument from everyday life to the anthropology of man as a social being and by placing the level of actual life in the broader perspective of a natural (thus normative) process, that Plutarch succeeds in contradicting the Epicurean doctrine that there is no natural community with one another among rational beings (fr. 523 Us.). In Plutarch’s view, human community indeed exists by nature. d) Furthermore, Plutarch’s description of actual human behaviour once more shows the fundamental importance of consistency between words and deeds. Indeed, whereas at night both body and soul (and primarily the reasonable part of the latter) are weakened, by day both actions and thinking are stimulated171. Both are even blended into one (εἰς ταὐτὸ συμμίξας). That this description of empirical facts also has a morally imperative value is futher illustrated by the argument of inconsistency in the first and third chapter of De latenter vivendo. The close connection between thinking and acting is really important in the domain of (social) ethics, certainly in the context of the current polemics between the different philosophical schools. e) Finally, Plutarch’s reference to Democritus’ statement is not just motivated by his concern for literary embellishment, but is based on one more eristic strategy. As has been said (cf. supra, 3.2.3a), Plutarch elsewhere accuses Epicurus for having taken away all of Democritus’ doctrines verbatim. By connecting Democritus’ words now with his own position, Plutarch tries to confront Epicurus with an important argumentum ex auctoritate. It is interesting to note that the roles are reversed at the beginning of De tranq. an., where Plutarch opposes Epicurus’ more nuanced position to what he regards as a far too radical tenet of Democritus (465C-466A)172. In both cases, Plutarch makes use of precisely the same strategy, which aims at isolating his philosophical opponent by appropriating the views of the latter’s closest ally. One should note that this conviction is not opposed to the Platonic doctrine that the state comes into being because individuals lack self-sufficiency (cf. R. 2, 369b). Both perspectives (that is, lack of αὐτάρκεια and social nature of human beings) are aptly combined in De frat. am. 479C. 171 Cf. νέα ἐφ’ ἡμέρῃ φρονέοντες ... ἐπὶ τὰς πράξεις ἀνίστανται. 172 Cf. G. Roskam (2005b), 362-363. 170

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3.5.2. That orthodox Epicureans will not be troubled by Plutarch’s argument in chapter 5 is obvious of course173. Once again, it is far more interesting to examine to what extent the argument of the fifth chapter reveals something of Plutarch’s own philosophical position. One may wonder in fact to what extent Plutarch would himself be convinced by his own interpretation of the commonly accepted practices. In this context, a fragment from his lost dialogue De anima can provide some interesting information174. The soul’s destiny after death is discussed in a dialogue between Timon and Patrocleas175. Timon regards the fact that sleep is the most pleasant of all our experiences as a proof of the unnatural character of the soul’s intertwinement with the body176. Indeed, sleep is most pleasant because it quenches the perception of any pain and further prevails over all other desires (not only corporeal pleasures, but also the purely intellectual pleasures of learning, discussion, and philosophy). Sleep thus brings about a state of relief from pain (ἀλγηδόνος ἀπαλλαγή), which could even be regarded as the essential nature of each pleasure177. It brings about this pleasant condition by removing the wearisome connection of body and soul178. Indeed, during sleep, body and soul are separated from one another, as appears from empirically verifiable indications (the coldness of the body, its lack of sensation, etc.). Sleep may thus be regarded as a moment of deliverance and repose of the soul (ἀπόλυσις καὶ ἀνάπαυλα τῆς ψυχῆς), though only temporary and less definitive than death. For a little while, the soul can lay down the burden (ἄχθος) of the body and withdraw into itself, although it will soon have to take up its load again. It is immediately clear that this position of Timon radically differs from Plutarch’s argument in the fifth chapter of De latenter vivendo. There, both body and soul share in the inertion of sleep, and reason, withdrawing into 173 The importance of consistency between words and deeds is emphasised in Epicurean thinking too (cf. RS 25). The argument of consensus omnium fails to convince one (cf. supra, 3.5.1a). The physical and anthropological argument can be regarded as meaningful forms of external criticism, which, however, are not necessarily cogent. 174 Fr. 178 Sandbach. The fragment is preserved in Stobaeus, 4,52,48-49, where it is ascribed to Themistius. However, it can in all probability be traced back to Plutarch (probably to his work De anima; n° 209 in the Lamprias catalogue); cf. M.R. James (1900), 23; O. Hense (1920), 301, n. 1; K. Ziegler (1951), 752; H. Adam (1974), 71, n. 22. 175 The two also participate in the conversation of De sera num. (which was one of the important reasons to ascribe the fragment to Plutarch). 176 ἐπεὶ τό γε παρὰ φύσιν τὴν πρὸς τὸ σῶμα τῇ ψυχῇ συμπλοκὴν εἶναι καὶ σύνερξιν ἐκεῖθεν ἂν συνίδοις [...] ὅτι τῶν περὶ ἡμᾶς παθῶν ὁ ὕπνος ἥδιστόν ἐστι. 177 With this interpretation of pleasure as a relief from pain, Timon’s position is de facto in line with the orthodox Epicurean doctrine which Plutarch attacks in Non posse 1091A-1092D; H. Adam (1974), 33-39. 178 ἀλλ’ ἐπίπονόν τινα καὶ κοπώδη καὶ σκληρὰν ἔοικεν ἐξαιρῶν ὕπνος διάθεσιν ἥδιστον εἶναι· αὕτη δ’ ἐστὶν οὐχ ἑτέρα τῆς πρὸς τὸ σῶμα τὴν ψυχὴν συνδεούσης.


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itself, is overcome with a few scattered fancies (διεσπασμέναις φαντασίαις). It is true that there can be found some parallels between Plutarch’s description of the situation of body and soul during sleep in De latenter vivendo and the one presented in De anima, but his interpretation of the described situation radically differs in both works. Whereas sleep appears as the human ‘activity’ par excellence in the extant fragment from De anima, in De latenter vivendo, it rather prevents all constructive activities. Fortunately, Patrocleas forces his interlocutor to clarify his position by raising an intelligent question. If Timon is right, then why do we feel no discomfort or pain while being wide awake? It is clear that the answer to this objection may help in gaining a better insight into the precise scope of the argument adduced in the fifth chapter of De latenter vivendo. If sleep should indeed be regarded as the most ideal situation of a living man according to a thoroughly Platonic perspective, why does one not experience the actions of everyday life as something troublesome, and why can a Platonist such as Plutarch even exhort to such actions as to something necessary to one’s own self-completion? On the basis of several concrete examples, Timon formulates his answer: the soul has gradually grown accustomed to its condition and as a consequence of this habit no longer feels the burdensome aspect of its association with the body. Nevertheless, the connection of body and soul fundamentally remains unnatural179. It is actually a real torment for the soul180, the natural activities of which are situated at the theoretical level. The ultimate reason why the soul clings to the body is to be found in its uncertainty about what will follow after death. This is the only bond by which the gods have tied body and soul together, for without this uncertainty, there is nothing which could withhold the soul181. The basically Platonic182 perspective of Timon’s discourse in this fragment Cf. τῷ παρὰ φύσιν, and somewhat further τὸ παρὰ φύσιν καὶ ἀλλότριον; cf. also near the beginning of the fragment: ἐπεὶ τό γε παρὰ φύσιν τὴν πρὸς τὸ σῶμα τῇ ψυχῇ συμπλοκὴν εἶναι κτλ. 180 ἐκείναις [sc. the bodily activities] γὰρ ἐνοχλεῖται καὶ περὶ ἐκείνας ἐκπονεῖται καὶ ἀπ’ ἐκείνων σχολῆς δεῖται καὶ ἀναπαύσεως. 181 ἕνα δεσμὸν αὐτῇ καὶ μίαν φυλακὴν μηχανησάμενοι καὶ περιβαλόντες, τὴν ἀδηλότητα καὶ ἀπιστίαν τῶν μετὰ τὴν τελευτήν· ἐπεὶ τήν γε πεισθεῖσαν, ὅσα ἀνθρώπους περιμένει τελευτήσαντας καθ’ Ἡράκλειτον οὐδὲν ἂν κατάσχοι. 182 Platonic influence is closely connected here and in the foregoing fragment (177 Sandbach) with elements from the Orphic-Pythagorean tradition; e.g. the καμπή (cf. also De genio Socr. 591B and Cons. ad ux. 611F; for its Orphic origins, cf. G. Méautis (1932), 582), the στέφανος (cf. also De facie 943D; Non posse 1105C and the imagery used in De sera num. 561A; for a discussion of the meaning of the στέφανος in Orphism, see W.K.C. Guthrie (1966), 180-181; for connections with Plato’s Phaedrus, see G. Soury (1940), 55-57), the μεταβολή (cf. G. Méautis (1922), 69, with reference to Plutarch, De genio Socr. 593A-594A), and the βόρβορος as destiny of the wicked (cf. W.K.C. Guthrie (1966), 160161). 179

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from De anima thus puts Plutarch’s argument in the fifth chapter of De latenter vivendo in a totally different light. Indeed, the entanglement of actions and thinking, which is clearly approved of in the perspective of De latenter vivendo as an indication of consistent behaviour, and which is regarded as part of a natural process, is presented in De anima as totally unnatural. Should one conclude, then, that Plutarch himself in the end does not share the consensus omnium and that he has only adduced it for the sake of his destructive polemics? Or is this one of the contradictions which can be found in Plutarch’s works? Not necessarily. In fact, we here face the difficult field of tension between the two radically different levels of everyday life and eschatology183. The field of social ethics is pre-eminently situated at the first level and is thus conditioned to a great extent by the inevitable facticity of corporeality. In the fifth chapter of De latenter vivendo, Plutarch’s reflections are always confined to the hic et nunc. There, and only there, an exhortation to πρᾶξις can be meaningful. On the other hand, when the soul (at the moment of death) is released from the body, it will dedicate itself to a contemplation of the noumenal world. The relevance of human sociality in such an eschatological perspective is far less obvious. The last chapter of De latenter vivendo will give further information about this question (infra, 3.7). 3.6. The ontological foundations: the connection between being and being known 3.6.1. As in the previous chapter, Plutarch will combine merely negative polemic with positive explanation of his own position in chapter 6, where the maxim λάθε βιώσας is considered from an ontological perspective. The first sentence obviously introduces Plutarch’s own convictions (cf. the explicit formula δοκῶ δ’ ἐγώ). With the confident thesis that life and becoming are given to man by God in order to make him known (1129EF), Plutarch adds a very interesting complement to the traditional argument of the devaluation of life in Epicureanism, an argument which he has put forward at the beginning of the second chapter (supra, 3.3.1). There, he did not deem it necessary to discuss the argument in detail, but limited himself to answer a possible objection to the self-evident character of his position. Here, he settles the question in a more definitive way. Far from being shameful and requiring concealment, life is given by God εἰς γνῶσιν. But the opening sentence of the sixth chapter offers more than a further refutation of the supposed Epicurean devaluation of life. The theonomic aspect of Plutarch’s social ethics, which was already present in nucleo in his programme of the ‘good life’, now returns in a far more important way. For having argued in the previous chapters that being known by one another forms the foundation of all social life, since it is the self-evident conditio Cf., e.g., M. Pinnoy (1968), 200; D. Babut (1969c), 531.

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sine qua non of each effort for the public interest, Plutarch now connects this γνῶσις184 in an orthodox Platonic way (cf. Plato, R. 6, 509b) with divine providence. Indeed, the condition of being known by one another, and thus (according to Plutarch) the existence of social life, can be traced back to God’s own intentions185. This theological view directly implies a teleological anthropology: human beings exist εἰς γνῶσιν; the finality of human existence lies in its being known186. In that sense, Plutarch’s theological position also offers a very interesting complement to his characterisation of man as being social by nature. The natural foundations of social life find their ultimate foundations in God’s designs. At the same time, the maxim λάθε βιώσας, always interpreted in a biased, erroneous way, is ‘refuted’ in the most radical sense. 3.6.2. The following sentence marks an important transition. From a strictly logical perspective, one could expect a theological argumentation which further explains the divine foundations of human finality. Plutarch, however, takes a completely different road. He argues that man remains unseen and unknown as long as he moves in small, scattered particles through the vast universe, but that he shines forth (ἐκλάμπει) once he has come together and has received a certain magnitude, and then becomes conspicuous and manifest instead of unseen and unnoticed (1129F). 3.6.2.1. Plutarch thus introduces the atomistic point of view in order to argue his theological thesis187. Now it may at first sight seem quite surprising that Plutarch does not fall back on Platonic physics to argue his theological and teleological thesis (even if his physical thinking was conditioned by an epistemological scepticism), but falls back precisely on Epicurean atomism. Once again, Plutarch makes use of a polemical strategy, which had become the common property of the different philosophical schools, viz. the attempt to argue one’s own position by means of the concepts and theories of the philosophical opponent, in order to refute the opposed position from the inside, or to confirm even more one’s own position by arguing it from the antagonistic point of view. Of course, this use of the opponent’s philosophical vocabulary does not imply overall acceptance of the antagonistic 184 Which has up to here always been used in its passive sense of τὸ γινώσκεσθαι (“being known”). 185 See also A. Barigazzi (1990), 52: “Appunto l’affermazione che la vita e l’esistenza stessa sono date da Dio in premio all’uomo perché si faccia conoscere e mostri la sua capacità di progredire quanto sia grande il logos divino di cui egli è participe implica il principio del fondamento naturale della società come parte di un disegno di Dio”. 186 Epicurus, on the other hand, rejected all teleological explanations which were based on divine providence in the domain of human genealogy; see esp. Lucretius, 5,156234; cf. A.A. Long – D.N. Sedley (1987), I, 63-65; A. Barigazzi (1990), 54; R. Müller (1991), 29. 187 Cf. commentary ad loc.

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view. It only aims at a refutation of the opponent and does not say anything at all about the positive convictions of the polemicist himself188. Indeed, that Plutarch was not convinced by the hypothesis of atomism and preferred the traditional doctrine of the four elements to that of ‘bodies without quality’ (ἄποια σώματα; Adv. Colot. 1111C; cf. also 1110F), appears from various passages in his works189. Accordingly, his argumentation based on the theory of atomism is only a means to make his own thesis acceptable for orthodox Epicureans. By using their own concepts, he tries to show them that even their presuppositions necessarily lead to his position. One should add that Plutarch’s argumentation is a true tour de force for other reasons as well. Our analysis of Plutarch’s argument at the beginning of the second chapter has shown that the traditional anti-Epicurean polemic against the supposed devaluation of life in Epicureanism originated precisely from the conviction that the physical theory of atomism directly leads to a depreciation of life itself. In this passage, Plutarch makes use of this doctrine of atomism to argue the exact opposite thesis. It is precisely the atomistic perspective which indeed shows that man should not hide himself, but comes into being εἰς γνῶσιν. Before birth, he remains unknown, since he is dissolved into minute, scattered atoms, but once born, he is revealed and becomes conspicuous. The process of birth thus obviously leads to the condition of being known (γνῶσις). Plutarch’s introduction of atomism as an argument for his theological point of view at the beginning of the sixth chapter has some very important consequences, however. Plutarch in fact does not argue in favour of a theologically founded finality of man at all. From the atomistic perspective, he can only argue that γένεσις de facto leads to γνῶσις. His turn to atomism, to which the idea of divine providence is totally alien, thus necessarily implies the disappearance of the element of divine intention. Moreover, it is not only the theological component which fades into the background. Human finality (εἰς γνῶσιν), too, should yield to the facticity of the result (δῆλος ἐξ ἀδήλου), since each teleological explanation becomes meaningless in the perspective of Epicurean atomism. Finally, Plutarch’s atomistic argument considerably narrows the perspective, focusing as it does on the moment of γένεσις. For whereas in Plutarch’s original thesis, a life εἰς γνῶσιν had both its temporal See also J. Opsomer (1996), 168; Id. (1998), 11. Plutarch uses this strategy also in Non posse and in the first part of De comm. not.; cf. D. Babut (1969b), 37-42. 189 Cf. De sup. 164F; De Is. et Os. 369A; Quaest. conv. 721D. But Plutarch’s most extensive refutation of atomism can be found in Adv. Colot. 1110E-1112C; cf. R. Westman (1955), 119; M. Isnardi Parente (1988), 72; J.P. Hershbell (1992), 3375-3376; J. Boulogne (2003), 85-106. The doctrine of the four elements, on the other hand, entirely dominates De prim. frig., although Plutarch at the end returns to the fundamental ἐποχή which always conditions his reflections on the physical world of εἰκός and πιθανόν; cf. De prim. frig. 955C; see J. Opsomer (1998), 213-221 for an interpretation. 188


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beginning and its ontological principle in God’s designs, his atomistic argument confines the perspective to the temporal dimension of a fortuitous beginning without any further implications or obligations for the future. Thus, the only thing Plutarch in the end appears to demonstrate through his atomistic argumentation is the evident, even trivial fact that human beings are known from the moment of their birth, when they can be perceived by the senses. Plutarch’s eristic strategy of arguing using the concepts of his philosophical opponent has thus taken a very heavy toll. By making use of atomistic reflections as an argument for his own thesis, Plutarch cannot but abandon everything which is essential to his own original position. What remains does not imply any compelling conclusions at all and can indeed be endorsed without any problem by each orthodox Epicurean. If that is true, one may also conclude that the atomistic reflections form no argument in favour of Plutarch’s original position. Under the influence of his polemical intentions, Plutarch (unconsciously?) makes an important move in his argumentation, which has crucial consequences for the remainder of the chapter, from which the theological and teleological point of view will completely disappear. 3.6.2.2. The following short sentence has been controversial in various respects. Plutarch defends the oracular thesis that becoming is not the road towards being, but from being towards being known (1129F: οὐ γὰρ εἰς οὐσίαν ὁδὸς ἡ γένεσις, ὡς ἔνιοι λέγουσιν, ἀλλ’ οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν). A. Barigazzi has shown the way to the correct interpretation of this difficult passage: “Plutarco non nega il pricipio platonico e aristotelico che ogni processo di formazione in natura ha per fine l’esistenza della cosa e non viceversa [...]. Plutarco accentua questo principio e negando la formazione di una cosa ex nihilo e la sua riduzione in nihilum vuol mettere in rilievo un aspetto particolare del processo, il comparire e scomparire, perché questo conviene al suo ragionamento.”190 Since the sentence is presented as an explanation of the preceding atomistic reflections (cf. γάρ), it should be interpreted in the light of the doctrine of atomism. One should examine, in other terms, why γένεσις cannot be regarded as a ὁδὸς εἰς οὐσίαν in an atomistic perspective. This implies that the answer should not be sought in Plutarch’s metaphysical theory but in that of Epicurus. The latter explicitly declared that nothing comes into being out of what does not exist191, for otherwise everything would come into being out (1990), 56. In this, he of course basically agrees with Plutarch, who allows for one playful exception. According to Plutarch, the only creatio ex nihilo can be found... in the circles of the money-lenders, for they create interests out of nothing; De vit. aer. 829C. On the ambivalence of the term τόκος in this passage, see G. Marenghi (1996), 141-142. 190 191

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of everything, without any need of seeds. An analogous conclusion holds for the opposite pole of φθορά: if that which disappears were annihilated into non-being, everything would have perished, since that into which it would have been dissolved, would simply not exist192. This explicit rejection of generatio ex nihilo and reductio in nihilum by means of a double reductio ad absurdum makes it perfectly clear why γένεσις in this passage of the sixth chapter of De latenter vivendo should indeed not be understood as a ὁδὸς (ἐκ τοῦ μὴ ὄντος) εἰς οὐσίαν. On the contrary, γένεσις consists in the coming together of already existing atoms, a process by which a new, composite reality comes into being. In other words, γένεσις is not a road towards being stricto sensu (since the atoms already exist) but towards a specific way of being (that is, being known, as the result of a specific configuration of the constitutive atoms). In Epicurus’ atomistic perspective, γένεσις can only be understood as a ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν. In a certain sense, man ‘is’ already in his constitutive atoms (οὐσία in its strict sense) before he ‘comes into being’, even though he still remains ἄδηλος and ἄγνωστος. It is at the moment of birth (γένεσις) that he moves from the level of what is ἄδηλον to that of γνῶσις (in its passive sense). 3.6.2.3. Plutarch further explains this atomistic interpretation of γένεσις in the next sentence, insisting that generation does not create everything that comes to be, but only reveals it, just as destruction does not remove what is into what is not, but rather transfers what has been dissolved into the unseen (1129F-1130A). The first part of the sentence obviously refers to the previous one (cf. again the explicative γάρ). The phrase τῶν γινομένων resumes the term γένεσις and should be interpreted as “what comes to be” or “what is born”, whereas οὐ ποιεῖ recalls the impossibility of a creatio ex nihilo (compare the formula οὐ γὰρ εἰς οὐσίαν ὁδός) and δείκνυσιν resumes the notion of “being known” (which was already implied by the formula ἀλλ’ οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν). In the second part of the sentence, Plutarch deals with the traditional complement of γένεσις, that is, φθορά, which should not be understood as a reductio in nihilum, but as a transfer of the dissolved atoms into the sphere of what is invisible (τὸ ἄδηλον)193. It is clear, then, that this sentence, too, should be understood against the background of the atomistic perspective. The precise meaning of this atomistic passage can be further illustrated through a comparison with an interesting passage from Adversus Colotem, where Plutarch in the context of his defence of Empedocles against Colotes’ attacks refers to the Epicurean view about the problem of creatio ex nihilo. He points to the Epicurean assumption that there is no generation of what is Cf. Epist. ad Her. 38-39; cf. also Lucretius, 1,149-214 (on the principle nullam rem e nilo gigni divinitus umquam) and 1,215-264 (the rejection of a reductio in nihilum); and fr. 179, n° 8 Sandbach. 193 The same idea is expressed in Lucretius, 1,215-216. 192


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not194, nor destruction of what is; what is called generation is in fact the conjunction of elements which exist already together, and death is a name given to the separation of these elements from one another (1112A = fr. 283 Us.)195. It is clear that both in this passage of Adversus Colotem and in Plutarch’s atomistic reflections of the sixth chapter of De latenter vivendo, γένεσις is not conceived as a ὁδὸς εἰς οὐσίαν, but as a conjunction (cf. συνόδῳ πρὸς ἄλληλα; 1112A) of already existent (cf. ὄντων; ibid.) atoms, whereas φθορά is interpreted as a dissolution of the constitutive atoms (cf. διαλύσει ἀπ’ ἀλλήλων). The passage from Adv. Colot. thus helps to clarify the proper meaning and scope of Plutarch’s atomistic argument in the sixth chapter of De latenter vivendo. For the sake of his anti-Epicurean polemic, Plutarch for the moment adopts the orthodox Epicurean doctrine of atomism, while concentrating on one of its concrete consequences, viz. the fact that the mutual conjunction of the atoms in effect brings about the condition of γνῶσις (“being known”). This specific focus is obviously rooted in Plutarch’s polemical purposes. It enables him to demonstrate that even according to the foundations of Epicurean physics, human life and being known are inextricably intertwined with one another. This attractive possibility to emphasise the inevitable importance of the element of γνῶσις even in the atomistic point of view, made Plutarch both (inadvertently?) drop his original thesis of a theologically founded human finality196 and reject the traditional definition of γένεσις. The whole atomistic passage thus ultimately rests on an argument of inconsistency, since it intends to show that Epicurus’ exhortation to ‘live unnoticed’ does not fit in with the facts which his own atomistic theory describes. That this inconsistency only exists in Plutarch’s own polemical perspective needs no further argumentation197. 194 One should note the rather strange formula γένεσιν τοῦ μὴ ὄντος (instead of the more natural γένεσιν ἐκ τοῦ μὴ ὄντος), which makes clear “dass hier γένεσις für den Weg in die Existenz und φθορά für den umgekehrten Weg steht”; R. Westman (1955), 132, n. 1. In that way, this Epicurean denial of a γένεσις τοῦ μὴ ὄντος fits in very well with Plutarch’s rejection of the definition of γένεσις as a ὁδὸς εἰς οὐσίαν. 195 Only the element of ἐπονομάζεσθαι in this passage remains alien to the orthodox Epicurean doctrine; cf. R. Westman (1955), 132-133. 196 It is clear that both the theological and the teleological component are absent from the whole atomistic passage. Even the definition of γένεσις as ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν does not imply finality. Indeed, whereas the formula εἰς γνῶσιν in the opening sentence of the sixth chapter can probably be given a finalistic meaning in the light of ὑπὸ θεοῦ δοθῆναι, the same formula εἰς γνῶσιν refers in the context of atomism to a process of transition from being unknown towards being known. The transition from the Platonic perspective at the outset to an atomistic perspective in what follows sufficiently explains the different scope of the formula εἰς γνῶσιν in the two passages. 197 One could further wonder whether Plutarch himself endorses the ontological doctrines which he puts forward, in abstraction from their atomistic foundations. In a certain sense, he can consider φθορά to be an ἀπαγωγὴ εἰς τὸ ἄδηλον, in the sense that after death, the soul will indeed be removed into the realm of the unseen (cf. also the following sentence: εἰς ἀιδὲς καὶ ἀόρατον ἡμῶν ὅταν διαλυθῶμεν βαδιζόντων; 1130A). The doctrine of γένεσις

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3.6.2.4. Plutarch then continues by showing that his previous atomistic reflections can also throw light on (cf. ὅθεν) the etymology of the epithets ‘Delian’ and ‘Pythian’, traditionally connected to Apollo as the sun god, and on the etymology of the name of Hades (1130A). He connects the epithet Δήλιος, which originally referred to the island of Delos (Apollo’s birthplace), to the verb δηλόω (“to make known”, “to reveal”); and Πύθιος, which recalls Apollo’s struggle with the Python at Delphi, with πυνθάνομαι (“to learn”, “to inquire”)198. The name of Hades, on the other hand, is traced back to the adjective ἀϊδής (“unseen”). a) This passage is as interesting as it is complex. One may begin by noting that Plutarch here does not reinterpret the traditional meanings of the epithets for the sake of his anti-Epicurean polemic. This appears from De E 385BC, where he further elaborates on the etymologies in order to show that Apollo is no less a philosopher than a prophet199. The god is Πύθιος for beginning students (Πύθιος μέν ἐστι τοῖς ἀρχομένοις μανθάνειν καὶ διαπυνθάνεσθαι) and Δήλιος and Φαναῖος for those who have made some progress (Δήλιος δὲ καὶ Φαναῖος οἷς ἤδη τι δηλοῦται καὶ ὑποφαίνεται τῆς ἀληθείας). The same etymological explanation of the epithet Δήλιος returns near the end of the work as an argument for Ammonius’ ontological theory about the enigmatic ‘E’ which could be read on Apollo’s temple at Delphi (394A). It is clear of course that this more philosophical interpretation of Apollo’s traditional epithets also offers interesting opportunities in the polemical context of De latenter vivendo, but the passages from De E sufficiently show that it was not merely adopted pour le besoin de la cause. b) This is not the only surprising aspect of the passage, though. It is quite remarkable indeed that Plutarch anyhow refers to the equation Apollo-sun in order to elaborate his previous atomistic reflections. For although this equation was probably widely accepted in his day200, even in philosophical as a ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν, on the other hand, implies a process of metempsychosis, which is described in Plutarch’s eschatological myths (see F.E. Brenk (1994) for Plutarch’s important modifications of the Platonic position on this point). 198 Cf. E. Valgiglio (1988), 209-211. 199 This parallel between De lat. viv. and De E could provide an indication for a relative chronology, although it is difficult to draw any cogent conclusion from it. G.M. Lattanzi (1932), 335 considers this parallel to be an argument for the posteriority of De lat. viv.: “Esaminiamo ora un passo del de latenter che, per essere inteso appieno, presuppone la composizione del de E e del de defectu oraculorum. Si accenna a p. 1130 A, come a cosa nota, ad un significato speciale degli attributi di Apollo, Delio e Pythio, che nel de E viene invece illustrato a lungo e fatto derivare da πυνθάνομαι e da δηλόω (385B)”. However, one could have equally good reasons to regard the passage from De E as a later elaboration of the still rough insights of De lat. viv. 200 Cf. De E 386B: ἡλίῳ δ’ ’Απόλλωνα τὸν αὐτὸν ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν πάντας ῞Ελληνας νομίζειν; De def. or. 434F-435A. For the early history of the equation, see P. Boyancé (1952), 345-349; Id. (1966).


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circles201, Plutarch himself usually rejects it as erroneous and dangerous. In his view, the sun and Apollo belong to two radically different, even diametrically opposed levels. The sun, being a god indeed202, is the sovereign of the world of becoming203, the ultimate source of γένεσις of everything and everyone204, and collaborates with the first God as an instrument of time205. Apollo, on the other hand, who can be identified with this first God206, belongs to the eternal world of τὸ ὄν and thus remains totally alien to the tem-

201 The sources which inform us about the position of the Academy are few and far between. Speusippus probably accepted the equation (cf. Macrobius, Sat. 1,17,8; P. Boyancé (1966), 165), but for the next generations all information is lacking. Probably, from Arcesilaus on, the Academics observed the suspension of judgement on this point as well. In the period of Neo-Platonism, the equation again comes to the fore (cf., e.g., Proclus, Theol. Plat. 6,12; Macrobius, Sat. 1,17,1-70; and Julian’s Hymn to King Helios). Among the Stoics, it was explicitly approved by Diogenes of Babylon (SVF 3, Diog. 33), and one may also recall the central part which the sun had to play in Cleanthes’ thinking (SVF 1,499). In De Pyth. or. 400D, the equation is defended by the Stoic poet Sarapion. 202 See De def. or. 436F: ἥλιος νόμῳ πατέρων θεός ἐστιν ἡμῖν; cf. Sept. sap. conv. 158E; Quaest. Plat. 1007A; fr. 190 and 213 Sandbach; cf. also Plato, Lg. 10, 886d; Xenocrates, fr. 215 and 263 Isnardi Parente. In consequence, Plutarch also believes the sun to be endowed with life; cf. Adv. Colot. 1123A. In the Lives, he more than once mentions an act of veneration of the sun; cf. Marc. 6,6; Dion 27,2; Art. 29,7. 203 Quaest. Rom. 268D: τὸν κύριον καὶ ἡγεμόνα τῆς ῥευστῆς οὐσίας ἁπάσης; cf. also Cicero, rep. 6,17 (a passage echoed by Macrobius, Sat. 1,17,3). A very important text concerning Plutarch’s attitude towards the sun is Quaest. Plat. 1006F-1007A, where Plutarch reveals the principal source of all his reflections about the sun, viz. the famous passage about the sun as the offspring of the Idea of the Good in Plato’s Republic (6, 508a-509c). 204 See fr. 200 Sandbach; cf. also fr. 101 Sandbach; Aristotle, Metaph. 12, 1071a15; GC 2, 336a32-33. For that reason, birth is a journey out of obscurity towards the light of the sun (fr. 157, n° 5 Sandbach: γένεσις δ’ ἡ εἰς ἥλιον καὶ φῶς ἐκ σκότους πορεία; De esu 994E), “living” is synonymous with “seeing the sun” (De tranq. an. 469E) and “existing” with “being under the sun” (cf. Lyc. 10,3; Luc. 30,2; Galba 26,4; cf. also Dion 50,2). 205 De sup. 171A; Quaest. Rom. 282C; see also Quaest. Rom. 284DE; Num. 18,1-2. Here, however, Plutarch has to face a difficult problem. In De E 392E, he has defined time as something which is in motion and which should be imagined along with moving matter, ever flowing and retaining nothing, a vessel, as it were, of destruction and generation. But if that is true, how can the sun, being a god, be regarded as a simple instrument of time? Plutarch tries to answer this question in his eighth Quaestio Platonica. He interprets time as an εἰκών in motion of (the first) God’s eternity, just as the cosmos, which is itself a god in the realm of becoming, should be considered an εἰκών of His essence (1007CD; cf. Plato, Ti. 92c). In this way, time itself is upgraded, becoming a symbol of the divine. At the same time, the sun, as an instrument of time, becomes a collaborator of the first God in the most important matters (Quaest. Plat. 1007DE). 206 This first God can also be named Osiris (De Is. et Os. 382F-383A), or Eros (cf. Amatorius 764DE), or Zeus and Hera (cf. Quaest. Rom. 282C), or even Heracles (cf. De facie 941C).

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poral world of γένεσις and φθορά207. How did Plutarch then conceive the relation between those two different gods? In my view, Plutarch’s ‘symbology’ can help to solve this difficult question. This calls for a short excursus. c) The notion of symbol often returns in the Corpus Plutarcheum208, and can be defined as a likeness and image of what is thought (De genio Socr. 589BC: εἴδωλον τῶν νοουμένων καὶ εἰκών)209. This passage provides precious information about Plutarch’s ‘symbology’. A symbol refers to the intelligible world (τὰ νοούμενα) and makes it accessible to man by introducing it in the phenomenal world. It is very important to see, however, that the symbol should never be confused with the divinity itself, but always remains a mere εἰκών or εἴδωλον. As such, the symbol, when correctly used, brings about a middle course between the extremes of atheism and superstition, since it refers to the god without becoming the god himself (cf. De Is. et Os. 378A). On the other hand, a symbol which is too weak, does not refer to, or only insufficiently refers to, the god, and thus results in atheism, while a symbol which is too powerful will refer to the god without doing justice to its own nature. As a result, a man will lose his sound sense of reality, will see gods everywhere, and will be affected by superstitious fear. It is only a symbol that fulfils its purpose in an adequate way that will refer to the god of whom it is a symbol, beyond its own nature but not at the cost of its own nature. It is clear that a correct understanding of a symbol presupposes sound philosophical reflection, and is as such beyond the reach of most people210. This perspective makes it possible to regard the sun as the symbol of the god. The most important text in this respect is to be found in De E 393DE, which, in fact, contains all of the important elements of Plutarch’s symbology. First of all, this symbology makes an equation of Apollo and the sun impossible. Plutarch thus blames those people who adopt this equation for having only a sleepy vision of the god, without ever reaching his essence (one feels the influence of Plato, R. 5, 476cd). For as a symbol of the god, the sun belongs to the realm of perception (αἰσθητῷ; 393D) and motion (φερομένῳ; 393E). It is clear, then, that one should aim higher (ἀνωτέρω προάγειν) and move from the phenomenal world of becoming to the nou See, e.g., De E 393A. On Plutarch’s conception of God, see, e.g., B. Latzarus (1920), 89-97; C.J. Gianakaris (1970), 115-116; E. Valgiglio (1988), 9-20. 208 See, e.g., De ad. et am. 59b; Con. praec. 139C; An seni 789EF; Nic. 19,4; Art. 18,1. Moreover, Plutarch often proposes a symbolic interpretation of various Roman customs; cf. Quaest. Rom. 265D, 267D, 271D, 271E, 274F, 275E, 281C, 281F, 282A, 283E, 285B, 287B, 288B (but rejected as explanation), 291A; cf. also Quaest. Rom. 281A, De Is. et Os. 363F; Quaest. conv. 703A (with the commentary of S.-T. Teodorsson (1996), 55); Rom. 15,5. 209 A good discussion of this text can be found in L. Van der Stockt (1990b), 182-184; Id. (1992a), 57-58. 210 Cf. De def. or. 433D; fr. 202 Sandbach (on the symbols of the Pythagoreans); De genio Socr. 593B; Ad princ. iner. 781F; De facie 941F. 207


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menal world of what is thought (νοητοῦ; 393E) and what remains stable (μένοντος; ibid.). Nevertheless, the equation of Apollo and the sun, however erroneous it may be, shows a goodness of disposition (εὐφυία) on the part of its adepts. They have apparently understood that the sun (as a symbol of the god) is in any case closely connected to the (symbolised) god (cf. also De Is. et Os. 365D: ἥλιος μὲν οὐκ ἔστι, πρὸς δ’ ἥλιον ἔχει τινὰ συγγένειαν). The generative powers (τὸ γόνιμον) of the god are present in the sun211, which itself offers an image of the god’s goodwill and blessedness212 (394E). Even though symbol and symbolised belong to two radically different levels, there exists an important link between them. The symbol refers to a certain extent (cf. ὡς ἀνυστόν) to the god, beyond its own nature, but not at the cost of its own nature. It is well-known that this tension occurs in many other passages from Plutarch’s works213. In my view, his symbology can provide a satisfactory explanation for all of them. Where Plutarch emphatically rejects the equation, he underlines that the sun is merely a symbol of the god, not the god himself214, and where he expresses himself much more favourably regarding 211 Cf. also Sept. sap. conv. 158DE; fr. 190 Sandbach; Phoc. 2,4; that the sun can also have a deteriorating effect appears from Quaest. conv. 725E. 212 One should note that the sun is not the only possible symbol of the god. Everything (and everyone) which by its (or his) own goodness has a close link with the god can serve as his symbol (De Is. et Os. 376F-377A). 213 The radical dichotomy between the intelligible level of the divinity and the phenomenal level is illustrated, for instance, in passages such as De Is. et Os. 372A; De def. or. 416D and 433DE; Ad princ. iner. 780F. The sun, as the sovereign of the world of becoming, is situated on the borderline between the phenomenal and the intelligible worlds, for it is through the sun that the mind returns to the soul (De facie 945C; cf. also De genio Socr. 591B) and it is also through the sun that the mind again reaches its final goal, that is, the intelligible world. Giving entrance to two radically different ways, the sun occupies quite an ambivalent position, which indeed fits in very well with its nature as a symbol. Belonging to the phenomenal world of becoming, it refers to the intelligible world of divinity, beyond its own nature, but not at the cost of its own nature. 214 This is the case in De Pyth. or. 400D and Amatorius 764DE. Both passages have much in common. Twice, the equation of the sun with the god is emphatically rejected, and twice this rejection is based on the dichotomy phenomenal-noumenal (cf. also De E 392E: ψεύδεται δ’ ἡ αἴσθησις ἀγνοίᾳ τοῦ ὄντος εἶναι τὸ φαινόμενον). In these passages, the sun does not adequately fulfil its function as a symbol of the god. For whereas a symbol should lead thought upon its way towards the divine (De Is. et Os. 378A: ἐπὶ τὰ θεῖα τὴν νόησιν ὁδηγοῦντες), the sun here seems to cause ignorance of the god by distracting attention from the noumenal realm. What Plutarch attacks in these passages is a possible misunderstanding of the symbolic value of the sun. A strict and narrow-minded equation of the sun with Apollo is the result of a process of symbolising which does not observe the right mean. When the sun does not refer (or insufficiently refers) to the god, it will indeed turn away the intelligence from the sphere of τὸ ὄν to the sphere of τὸ φαινόμενον and thus lead to ignorance of the god. Far from rejecting the symbolic value of the sun as an image of the god, Plutarch only rejects total identification.

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this equation, he can do so on the basis of the important connections between symbol and symbolised215. The whole tension, then, should not (primarily) be traced back to the difference in context between all of these passages, but to the tension inherent in the symbol itself. Far from being inconsistent, Plutarch’s position rests on a coherent and well-balanced symbology216. d) Returning to De latenter vivendo, the short excursus now shows its full importance in that it makes clear that the equation Apollo-sun, there ascribed to the vague νομίζοντες (1130A), and in accordance with traditional, ancestral ordinances (κατὰ τοὺς πατρίους καὶ παλαιοὺς θεσμούς; ibid.) does not express Plutarch’s own convictions. On the contrary, it should be connected directly to the previous Epicurean perspective of atomism (cf. ὅθεν), as appears most clearly from Plutarch’s discussion of the name of Hades. Indeed, the close link between the etymological explanation of Hades’ name and the atomistic reflections about death appears from the striking parallels between the definition of φθορά as εἰς τὸ ἄδηλον ἀπαγωγὴ τοῦ διαλυθέντος and the etymology of the name of Hades (ὡς ἂν εἰς ἀϊδὲς καὶ ἀόρατον ἡμῶν ὅταν διαλυθῶμεν βαδιζόντων). A discussion of γένεσις, the traditional counterpart of φθορά, thus calls for the divine counterpart of Hades. Now Plutarch also elsewhere opposes Hades to Apollo (see esp. De E 394A), and moreover, Apollo’s epithets Δήλιος and Πύθιος can be very useful in an atomistic perspective which defines γένεσις as a ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν. The only problem is that the role of In De Is. et Os. 372DE, for instance, Plutarch refers to people who adopt the Osirissun equation (and the Isis-moon equation) without question and again shows himself fairly benevolent towards them. He is even prepared to agree that they can claim a certain plausibility (καὶ τούτοις μὲν ἁμωσγέπως τοῦ πιθανοῦ μέτεστι), contrary to those who identify Typhon with the sun. Both equations prove to be unconvincing, to be sure, but the former is obviously the least erroneous. In Quaest. Rom. 282BC, Plutarch offers a very strong interpretation of the symbol. There, he wonders why the year belongs to Zeus (Jupiter) and the months to Hera (Juno), and answers that one should distinguish between Zeus and Hera on the one hand, who rule the invisible deities, and sun and moon on the other hand, which are sovereigns of the visible gods. Sun and moon should not be regarded as mere images of the first gods, though: the sun is Zeus ἐν ὕλῃ, the moon is Hera ἐν ὕλῃ. This position almost contradicts Plutarch’s argument in De Pyth. or. 400D and Amatorius 764DE. And yet, the two perspectives can easily be reconciled with one another, for here as well, Plutarch takes into account the radical difference between the phenomenal and the noumenal world. However, he now emphasises the close connection between the sun (symbol) and the god (symbolised), rather than their differences. In the phenomenal world, the sun is, as it were, the incarnation of Zeus. In this way, the ambivalent position of the symbol enables Plutarch to harmoniously reconcile the immanentist and transcendental tendencies. 216 Cf. also G. Roskam (1999b), 444, who argues that Plutarch reaches a well-balanced philosophical transfiguration of the traditional picture of the sun god, and Id. (2006a). 215


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Apollo in this context is by no means clear. An equation with the Platonic θεός in the opening sentence of the chapter is impossible in the atomistic context and would have obscured the role of Hades. Moreover, Plutarch’s own view of Apollo as the god of the noumenal world of τὸ ὄν makes him totally alien to the process of γένεσις. In this particular context, the counterpart of Hades, the sovereign of the realm of φθορά, could only be the sun, the sovereign of the world of becoming217. In consequence, the equation Apollo-sun was the conditio sine qua non of Plutarch’s etymological reflections, for it was the only way to attribute Apollo’s epithets Δήλιος and Πύθιος to the sun. But why does Plutarch introduce an equation which he cannot accept in order to elucidate a theory which he cannot accept either? Here as well, his reflections have their raison d’être in a very subtle polemic. It is well known that Epicurus’ theology was precisely intended as a reaction against widespread superstitious beliefs, characterised by improper epithets218. Epicurus also rejected the divinity of sun, moon, and other celestial bodies219, which renders the equation Apollo-sun extremely problematic in an Epicurean perspective. Plutarch agrees with Epicurus in rejecting the equation, but at the same time demonstrates that it is precisely the Epicurean doctrine of atomism which gives the erroneous, superstitious beliefs a chance. Indeed, whereas the common equation totally fails to convince a Platonist, an Epicurean philosopher who correctly applies his own doctrines cannot but identify Apollo and the sun. Plutarch points out to Epicurus, as it were, how he should interpret meaningfully the traditional beliefs from his own perspective. At the same time, he also reveals one of Epicurus’ apparent inconsistencies: one should either give up atomism, or else one should accept the equation. Cf. Cons. ad Apoll. 106F, where Plutarch also opposes Hades and the sun. It is interesting to note that the close connection between the sun and the process of γένεσις as a ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν also appears in Plutarch’s atomistic reflections themselves. When the constitutive atoms come together, man shines forth like the sun (ἐκλάμπει, 1129F) and from ἄδηλος becomes δῆλος. One should further note that the opposition between Hades and the sun fits in very well with the argument of the fifth chapter. Indeed, Hades appears as the sovereign of the unseen night (νυκτός) and of idle sleep (ἀεργηλοῖο ὕπνου; 1130A; cf. also δυσεργεῖς and ἀδρανεῖς in 1129DE). The connection between the sun and γένεσις is in line with the perspective of the fifth chapter too, where it was precisely the sun which set in motion the whole ‘natural’ process of daily actions. The opposition between ἥλιος and νύξ, finally, is maintained in the seventh chapter, where Plutarch describes the final destiny of the good (cf. τοῖσι λάμπει μὲν μένος ἀελίου; 1130C) and of the wicked (cf. βληχροὶ δνοφερᾶς νυκτὸς ποταμοί; 1130D). 218 Cf. Adv. Colot. 1119E (= fr. 392 Us.) and Epist. ad Her. 77; G.D. Hadzsits (1916), 320; A.-J. Festugière (1946), 85; R. Westman (1955), 198. 219 For Epicurus’ rejection of astral religion, see Epist. ad Her. 81; Epist. ad Pyth. 90-96; Lucretius, 5,140-145; R. Philippson (1918), 358-381; A.-J. Festugière (1946), 102131. Plutarch attacks this Epicurean doctrine in Adv. Colot. 1123A (= fr. 342 Us.). 217

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3.6.3. The following sentence should be quoted in full, as it may well be the most difficult of the whole work: οἶμαι δὲ καὶ τὸν ἄνθρωπον αὐτὸν οὑτωσὶ φῶτα καλεῖν τοὺς παλαιοὺς ὅτι τοῦ γινώσκεσθαι καὶ γινώσκειν ἑκάστῳ διὰ συγγένειαν ἔρως ἰσχυρὸς ἐμπέφυκεν (1130AB). “Indeed I imagine that the ancients called man phôs because from our kinship with one another a strong love is implanted in each of us of being known and of knowing.” (translation B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy) Plutarch here introduces the traditional etymological explanation of the word φώς (man) by means of φῶς (light)220. He suggests that the reason why the ancients used the name φώς can be found in the fact that, due to a certain kinship (διὰ συγγένειαν) in each man there is implanted by nature (ἐμπέφυκεν) a strong love (ἔρως) to know and to be known. 3.6.3.1. It is immediately clear that Plutarch here makes an important though unargued move. Whereas he connected only being and being known in his foregoing reflections221, he now looks for a connection between being, on the one hand, and being known and knowing, on the other hand. The active verb γινώσκειν appears at first sight to be completely alien to the context of Plutarch’s polemic. Why does he still deem it necessary to add the active verb as a complement to the passive γινώσκεσθαι? Probably because the active γινώσκειν formed the essential pillar on which the etymological explanation of the παλαιοί was based. This can be inferred from several passages from the Byzantine Etymologicum Gudianum, where the lemma φώς indeed returns more than once, and with it also the relation between φῶς and φώς. We can read that man is named φώς because of his ability to illuminate everything with his reason (s.v. φώς [p. 560 Sturzius]: ἀπὸ τοῦ φωτίζειν τὰ πάντα τῷ λόγῳ). Only man is rational and is called by the term φώς precisely because of that faculty of reason222. In these passages, it is only the active 220 In that way, the omnipresent imagery of light is again given a different application. 221 As has been said, γνῶσις should in the previous chapters always be interpreted in its passive sense of “being known”. On the position of O. Apelt (1926), 158 and O. Seel (1972), 374-375, see infra, n. 244. 222 In that way, two etymologies can even be combined, for the term φώς can not only be traced back to φῶς (= light), but also to φῶ = λέγω; Et. Gud. s.v. φώς (p. 560 Sturzius): ὀξυτόνως ὁ ἀνὴρ, παρὰ τὸ φῶ τὸ λέγω, μόνος γὰρ ὁ ἄνθρωπος λογικὸς, ὡς ὁ Θεολόγος· φὼς γὰρ τὸν ἄνθρωπον ὀνομάζει, διὰ τὴν τοῦ ἐν ἡμῖν λόγου δύναμιν; cf. also Eustathius, Ad Hom. Il. I, 623,4; II, 697,11-12 Van der Valk; Epimerismi Homerici φ 16, p. 724 Dyck. The two etymologies are combined in EM 804.28-32; cf. also Et. Gen. s.v. φώς. The etymology παρὰ τὸ φῶ can at least be traced back to Orion (5th century A.D.), who, “ohne jede eigene Zutat oder eigenen Gesichtspunkt, was ihm an Quellen zugänglich war [...] ausschrieb” (R.


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process of γινώσκειν that is mentioned to clarify the etymology, whereas no trace can be detected of the passive γινώσκεσθαι. It is probable that Plutarch knew very well that the traditional connection between φῶς and φώς was based on the importance of man’s powers to illuminate everything with his reason, and hence could not but introduce the active γινώσκειν into his argument. Nevertheless, he also retains the passive γινώσκεσθαι in his etymological discussion. Of course, this addition of the component of “being known” should be explained by the specific polemical context in which the traditional etymology is here mentioned. Indeed, the importance of γνῶσις in its passive sense of being known was one of the most fundamental Leitmotive in De latenter vivendo. Even in the atomistic reflections which immediately precede this passage, the connection between human existence, light (cf. ἐκλάμπει; 1129F), and being known (cf. δῆλος ἐξ ἀδήλου; ibid.) was emphasised. The passive γινώσκεσθαι, then, was indispensable to link these etymological reflections with the central issue of the work. One could even say that the mention of an ἔρως τοῦ γινώσκεσθαι would have been sufficient within the perspective of De latenter vivendo, for love of active knowledge is not directly relevant in this context. One can thus detect a tension between the active γινώσκειν, indispensable in tradition, but irrelevant in the perspective of De latenter vivendo, and the passive γινώσκεσθαι, indispensable in Plutarch’s polemic, but apparently alien to the traditional etymological explanation. Once again, Plutarch appears to adapt the traditional, raw material which he had at his disposal to the needs of his own polemical position. By introducing the passive γινώσκεσθαι for the sake of his polemic into the traditional explanation of the term φώς, he advances a complementarity in the love of knowledge. Both active γινώσκειν and passive γινώσκεσθαι become the object of a love which apparently characterises human beings as human beings, since it is present in everyone (cf. ἑκάστῳ). 3.6.3.2. Now this ἔρως ἰσχυρὸς τοῦ γινώσκεσθαι καὶ γινώσκειν should, according to Plutarch, be interpreted in the light of a certain kinship. Indeed, it is because of this kinship (διὰ συγγένειαν) that this love of knowing and being known is innate in each of us. But what should be understood by this kinship? a) According to a first possible interpretation, συγγένεια should be interpreted as a kinship of human beings with light223. Plutarch then argues that Reitzenstein (1907), 811). In view of the general lack of any originality in the Byzantine Etymologica, one may perhaps also ascribe the second etymology (which returns in this passage of De lat. viv.) to ancient sources. 223 Cf. the translations of A.R. Shilleto (1888), 377 (“... because by their relationship to light all have implanted in them a strong and vehement desire to know and to be known”); O. Apelt (1926), 117 (“... weil durch die Verwandtschaft mit dem Licht einem jeden ein mächtiger Trieb zum Erkennen und Erkanntwerden eingepflanzt ist”); F. Por-

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the love of knowing and being known is implanted in human beings because of their relationship to light. This interpretation has several important advantages. First of all, the connection of this sentence to the following, where the conviction of some philosophers is discussed, that the soul is in its substance light, becomes very clear and coherent. Indeed, the next sentence then brings to a head the συγγένεια of human beings with light mentioned previously. Furthermore, the reason (cf. ὅτι) of the link between φώς and φῶς seems evident in this perspective: man is called φώς because of his direct kinship with light (φῶς). In this context, the close connection between man and light can then be interpreted both in the perspective of the foregoing tradition (the activity of human γινώσκειν as φωτίζειν τὰ πάντα τῷ λόγῳ) and in the perspective of Plutarch’s anti-Epicurean polemic (the activity (!) of human γινώσκεσθαι as ἐκλάμπειν καὶ καθίστασθαι δῆλος ἐξ ἀδήλου). Unfortunately, the complementarity between knowing and being known entirely disappears in this interpretation: γινώσκειν and γινώσκεσθαι remain two distinct processes which are rooted in a totally different context and which cannot possibly be connected with one another. As a direct consequence of this fragmentation within the domain of knowledge, the relevance of the active γινώσκειν in the context of De latenter vivendo remains unclear. One cannot but conclude that Plutarch erroneously and artificially made use of traditional material. For anything which is essential in the traditional reflections (that is, the active γινώσκειν) proves to be alien to Plutarch’s own discussion, whereas everything which really matters in the context of De latenter vivendo (that is, the passive γινώσκεσθαι) is apparently absent from the tradition. The whole passage concerning man’s relationship to light should in this perspective be regarded as a Fremdkörper, totally alien to the surrounding context. b) According to a second interpretation, one should interpret συγγένεια as a mutual kinship of human beings with one another224. But what should be understood more concretely under such mutual kinship? In the light of the talupi (1961), 22 (“... per questa ragione che in ciascuno è connaturato un potente amore di essere conosciuto e di conoscere a causa di un’origine comune e all’anima e alla luce”); D.A. Russell (1993), 123 (“... because there is innate in each of us, because of our kinship with it [sc. light], a strong desire to know and to be known”); and I. Gallo (2000), 45 (“... perchè in ciascuno è insito un forte desiderio di essere conosciuto e di conoscere, per parentela (con φῶς, luce)”); see also A. Strobach (1997), 66: “Schließlich heiße Mensch/Mann φώς, weil durch die Verwandtschaft mit dem Licht, die sich auch sprachlich ausdrücke, einem jeden Menschen die Möglichkeit zum Erkennen und Erkanntwerden gegeben sei”. 224 Cf. the translations of B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (1967), 337 (“... because from our kinship with one another a strong love is implanted in each of us of being known and of knowing”) and U. Berner et al. (2000), 59 (“... weil jedem Menschen von Natur aus aufgrund der Verwandtschaft untereinander das starke Verlangen angeboren ist, erkannt zu werden und zu erkennen”).


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immediately preceding atomistic reflections, one might interpret συγγένεια as an ontologically based (and factual) kinship with each other. Everyone comes into being thanks to a (fortuitous) conjunction of his constitutive atoms, thus reaching the level of γνῶσις (in its passive sense). However, the logical connection between such ontological, factual kinship and the ἔρως ἰσχυρὸς τοῦ γινώσκεσθαι καὶ γινώσκειν is by no means evident. Another possibility consists in interpreting συγγένεια as a finalistic and theologically based kinship with each other. For God gives human existence to everyone εἰς γνῶσιν. The logical connection between such theologically founded συγγένεια and the ἔρως to know and to be known may be more clear, to be sure, but a strictly theological perspective appears to be totally alien to both the immediate context and the traditional etymology. Thirdly, one may understand συγγένεια as a mutual kinship which becomes evident in a general, non-specified sociality between human beings. The reality of such a human (natural) sociability, which was argued in (the fourth and especially) the fifth chapter, forms no doubt one of Plutarch’s most important points of criticism against Epicurus and can moreover easily be connected to the more specific theological and finalistic reflections on human existence which were proposed at the beginning of the sixth chapter. Such an interpretation of συγγένεια has some important advantages as well. For it is only by interpreting this kinship in the light of a vague, general sociality that one can explain the complementarity between γινώσκεσθαι and γινώσκειν. Moreover, it is only in this perspective that the passage as a whole (thus both γινώσκεσθαι and γινώσκειν) can be interpreted as a meaningful part of the anti-Epicurean polemic of De latenter vivendo, since a mutual complementarity between knowing and being known is then necessarily the direct result of the fact that human beings, because of their social nature225, are oriented towards one another. According to this interpretation, “knowing and being known” should be understood as “knowing each other and being known by one another”. The social dimension thus enters into the domain of epistemology. The active γινώσκειν of the tradition can then and only then play a meaningful role in the context of De latenter vivendo226. Indeed, the fragmentation within the domain of knowledge which was inherent in the first interpretation of συγγένεια (i.e. the kinship of human beings with light), has to yield now to an evaluation of the process of knowledge as a noetico-noematic whole. It is only by means of this perspective that one should no longer consider the etymology of the name φώς to be a Fremdkörper in this context, due to Plutarch’s incorrect or at least irrelevant use of the traditional material. Plutarch rather appears to modify once again the material at his disposal in a mean In this light, Plutarch’s use of the term ἐμπέφυκεν becomes clear too. This, of course, does not alter the fact that Plutarch’s argument proves invalid in an Epicurean perspective, since the maxim λάθε βιώσας obviously does not prevent orthodox Epicureans to know each other and to be known by one another. 225 226

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ingful way to the needs of his own polemic. Moreover, the close connection between συγγένεια and the ἔρως ἰσχυρὸς τοῦ γινώσκεσθαι καὶ γινώσκειν becomes clear and unproblematic: human sociability not only illuminates the inner complementarity within the ἔρως, but also illuminates the origins of that ἔρως. Indeed, the strong love to know each other and to be known by one another is the direct consequence of the social nature of human beings. Unfortunately, this interpretation also has its inconveniences. For the reason (cf. ὅτι) of the link φῶς – φώς is far less clear in this perspective. The etymology is then based on a somewhat loose analogy between the human process of knowing (each other) in general and the importance of light for that process. Although I would give a certain preference to the last interpretation of συγγένεια (i.e. a mutual kinship which becomes evident in a general sociability between human beings), my final evaluation of this quite enigmatic sentence can only be a non liquet. 3.6.3.3. In the following sentence, Plutarch further elaborates on the importance which light has for human beings. He takes as his point of departure the conviction of some philosophers (ἔνιοι τῶν φιλοσόφων) according to whom the soul is in its substance light and goes on to summarise some of their arguments in favour of this quite remarkable psychology: the soul has an aversion to each ἄγνοια227 and to everything which is without light (πᾶν τὸ ἀφεγγές), and is troubled by darkness, which she considers to be full of fear and suspicion. She finds no pleasure, not even in things which are agreeable by nature, if she finds herself in darkness, whereas the presence of light makes each pleasure cheerful and kind (1130B). E. Bignone traces the whole theory which is mentioned by Plutarch back to Heraclides Ponticus228, who was himself influenced in his anti-Epicurean polemic by the anti-hedonistic argumentation which Aristotle put forward in his Protrepticus229. F. Wehrli, on the other hand, ascribes only the psychological theory which defines the substance of the soul as light to Heraclides, while tracing the argument in favour of the theory back to Platonic origins230. I. Gallo, finally, argues in favour of a combination of Academic-Peripatetic 227 Which should now in the first place be understood in its active sense: “lack of knowledge”, “ignorance” (but see infra). 228 E. Bignone (1973), II, 239-241; see also B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (1967), 337, note f; H.D. Betz (1990), 139. For Heraclides’ theory, see also fr. 98a, 98b, 98c and 98d Wehrli; P. Boyancé (1952), 336-337. 229 Cf. Iamblichus, Protrept. 8 (= Aristotle, Protrept. fr. 9 Ross). 230 F. Wehrli (1969a), 93: “Daß Plutarch für die Gleichsetzung der Seele mit Licht an H. denkt, ist darum wahrscheinlich, weil die doxographische Ueberlieferung keiner andern Vertreter dieser Lehre nennt. Dies gilt aber nicht für ihre ganze symbolische Ausdeutung, weil oben (zu fr. 95) für deren direkte Fortsetzung andere Herkunft festzustellen war. Plutarch steht hier in der Tradition eines unbekannten Platonikers”.


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and Pythagorean influence231. Even if perfect certainty concerning Plutarch’s direct source(s) cannot be reached232, the whole debate at least shows that he here falls back on an age-old anti-hedonistic tradition233. a) The essence of this traditional argument presented by Plutarch is fairly simple: the soul loves light, whereas it hates everything dark and unilluminated. But in which way could this elementary material be used in the context of an anti-Epicurean polemic? It is clear that one could easily oppose it to the supposed Epicurean vulgar hedonism which implied a rejection of all traditional παιδεία234. Indeed, in the traditional polemics against Epicureanism, a great deal of attention was given to Epicurus’ contempt of παιδεία and he himself was often blamed for his lack of culture235. Contrary to Epicurus, his opponents emphasised the importance of purely intellectual pleasure and the activities of human reason as an end in itself. In Non posse, Plutarch elaborates at great length on this traditional argumentation. The initial criticism on the Epicurean doctrine of corporeal pleasure is there followed by a long discussion of the pleasures of intellectual life (1092D-1096E). Plutarch insists on the importance of literature236, arts, history, mathematics237, and music238 in order to discredit Epicurus’ rejection of the ἐλευθέριος παιδεία (1094D). But why should one make so much of these intellectual activities? Plutarch’s position in Non posse appears to be very well in line with the I. Gallo (1996b), 217-218; Id. (2000), 16-19. Cf. A. Barigazzi (1990), 55: “ne può restare qualcuno nel giudicare sulla fonte diretta, se sia stato Eraclide Pontico, come ha pensato il Bignone, o qualche altro, per il fatto che la polemica antiedonistica fu svolta da altri accademici e peripatetici nel lungo spazio di tempo fino a Plutarco, circa quattro secoli”; cf. also I. Gallo (2000), 17-19 and 63. 233 Contra: H.D. Betz (1990), 139, who finds some gnostic influences in this passage and proposes a totally different interpretation: “Taken together with what was said before in 1129 F – 1130 A, ἡ γένεσις describes a process, by which an entity endowed with ‘being’ moves from the state of ignorance to that of knowledge. We may conclude that this knowledge is meant to be self-knowledge and redemptive, as it is said to be the sole purpose and content of life. The opposite, ἄγνοια, implies non-being, both here and in the hereafter”. 234 It should be noted that Aristotle already found a connection between σοφία, σάφεια and φάος/φῶς; see his Περὶ φιλοσοφίας, fr. 8 Ross. 235 See, e.g., Sextus Empiricus, M. 1,1 (= fr. 227 Us.); Cicero, De fin. 1,26 and 1,71; Athenaeus, 13, 588a. 236 Cf. also Cicero, fin. 1,72 and 2,12; Lactantius, inst. 3,25,7 (= fr. 227a Us.). 237 Cf. also Philodemus, Rhet. i, 244, col. xiii, 8-15 S.; Cicero, ac. 2,106 (= fr. 229a Us.). 238 Cf. also Cicero, fin. 1,72 (= fr. 227 Us.); Sextus Empiricus, M. 6,27 (= fr. 229b Us.). Epicurus nevertheless insisted that the Epicurean sage will be the only person to converse correctly about music and poetry, even if he will not compose poems himself; Diog. Laert. 10,120. 231 232

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conviction of the ἔνιοι τῶν φιλοσόφων which he mentions in De latenter vivendo: the soul clearly loves everything which is illuminated, for to learn the truth is as dear and desirable as life and being itself, because of the knowledge (τὸ γινώσκειν) it affords (Non posse 1093A). It is clear that in this section from Non posse, this traditional anti-Epicurean argument is situated in its traditional context. The fundamental importance of active knowledge (γινώσκειν) is used as a refutation of Epicurus’ so-called uncultured hedonism. One may briefly add that this traditional criticism does not convince an orthodox Epicurean. It is true that Epicurus generally considered the traditional παιδεία to be inadequate to reach personal happiness239 and that he did not deem it necessary to try to find the one and ultimate explanation of each phenomenon240, but this does not imply that he indeed underestimated the vital importance of theoretical thinking. Scientific reflection, though never an end in itself, brings about the insights necessary to eradicate all fears and to guarantee the soul’s ἀταραξία241. b) In De latenter vivendo, Plutarch uses these traditional anti-hedonistic reflections as an argument against the Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας. To that purpose, he gives the traditional argument an entirely new turn. For instead of opposing the light of knowledge to the darkness of Epicurus’ uncultured hedonism, he rather wishes to underline the sharp conflict between the soul’s love of light, on the one hand, and the darkness of the Epicurean ‘unnoticed life’, on the other. This opposition fits in very well with the imagery of the previous chapters, where the maxim λάθε βιώσας was connected to darkness and night more than once. Moreover, light is characterised as a κοινὸν ἥδυσμα. In this way, human sociality trickles into a context which originally raised completely different questions. Again, Plutarch thoroughly modifies the raw material from the tradition towards his own polemical purposes, thus bringing about a new, anti-Epicurean argument. A basic problem remains, however. How should the term ἄγνοια be understood in this context? In the traditional argument, ἄγνοια would undoubtedly have received the active meaning of τὸ μὴ γινώσκειν. If one interprets ἄγνοια in this active sense here as well242, Plutarch emphasises that the lack of See, e.g., Athenaeus, 13, 588ab (= fr. 117 Us.) and Diog. Laert. 10,6 (= fr. 163

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Us.). Cf., e.g., Epist. ad Her. 79-80; Epist. ad Pyth. 87; 113 and 114; Lucretius, 5,526533 and 6,703-711. This, however, does not imply that Epicurus tends towards scepticism, for the most important problems (τὰ κυριώτατα) have only one possible explanation (cf. Epist. ad Her. 78). 241 RS 11; cf. also RS 12 and 13; Epist. ad Her. 78; Epist. ad Pyth. 85. 242 As in all interpretations; cf. A.R. Shilleto (1888), 377 (“... because it can least endure ignorance about facts, etc.”); O. Apelt (1926), 117 (“... daß die Seele unter allen Dingen den Mangel an Erkenntnis am schwersten erträgt, etc.”); F. Portalupi (1961), 23 (“... l’anima [...] nulla supporta di più mal grado dell’ignoranza”); B. Einarson – P.H. De 240


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knowledge engenders a fear (φόβος) which troubles (ταράττεται) the soul so much that she cannot even enjoy natural pleasures any longer, thus making clear that Epicurus, who himself wished to cure all irrational fears and tried to guarantee complete ἀταραξία, with his rejection of traditional παιδεία cuts his own throat. However, the relevance of such an argument in this context of De latenter vivendo is quite problematic of course. For the sake of his polemic, Plutarch indeed needs ἄγνοια in its passive sense243. As was already the case in the previous sentence, we again face the same field of tension between tradition on the one hand (where the active γινώσκειν appeared, while the passive γινώσκεσθαι proved irrelevant), and the polemical perspective of De latenter vivendo on the other hand (where the passive γινώσκεσθαι proves indispensable, while the active γινώσκειν appears quite strange indeed). This tension, crystallised in the ambiguity of the term ἄγνοια244, again conditions the relevance of Plutarch’s argument: how can the Epicurean maxim, which aims at μὴ γινώσκεσθαι, be opposed to the substance of the human soul, which strives for γινώσκειν? As long as γινώσκειν and γινώσκεσθαι are conceived as two disconnected processes, Plutarch’s argument proves to be irrelevant in this context, and should be regarded as a digression, and a fairly clumsy one too. On the other hand, his argument is perfectly relevant when the συγγένεια in the previous sentence is understood as a mutual kinship between human beings, in which a certain sociality was inherent245. It is only in that perspective that μὴ γινώσκεσθαι as part of a noetico-noematic whole can directly imply μὴ γινώσκειν and thus be opposed to γινώσκειν as substance of the human soul. Plutarch then connects various Lacy (1967), 337 (“... the soul finds ignorance the most vexatious of all things, etc.”); D.A. Russell (1993), 123 (“... the soul is distressed by ignorance, etc.”); I. Gallo (2000), 45 (“... l’anima avversa più di ogni cosa l’ignoranza”); U. Berner et al. (2000), 59 (“... daß die Seele die Unwissenheit schwerer erträgt als alles andere”). 243 One should recall that the term ἄγνοια in its passive sense of μὴ γινώσκεσθαι was already connected earlier to the maxim λάθε βιώσας; cf. 1129D and (though more ambivalent) 1129B. 244 The ambiguity in terminology was already noticed by O. Apelt (1926), 158, who focuses on the term γνῶσις in the foregoing passage: “Hier [sc. in 1129F] spielt Plutarch mit der doppelten Bedeutung des Wortes γνῶσις, das nicht bloß Erkenntnis (subjektiv) sondern auch Bekanntwerden (objektiv) unter den Menschen bedeutet”. O. Seel (1972), 375, n. 13 (cf. also 374) even considered this ambiguity of the term γνῶσις to be “das πρῶτον ψεῦδος seiner polemik”. The problem concerning the ambiguity of these terms should not be overemphasised, however. Until Plutarch introduces explicitly the active γινώσκειν in 1130A, the term γνῶσις was always understood in its passive sense of being known. It is only near the end of the sixth chapter that the ambiguity arises, as a direct consequence of the influence of tradition. Even then, it should not necessarily imply a logical fallacy (infra). 245 Again, this does not imply that Plutarch’s argument would convince an orthodox Epicurean; cf. supra.

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elements which belong to completely different domains in order to develop his own anti-Epicurean argumentation. 3.6.4. In the last sentence of the sixth chapter, Plutarch returns explicitly to the central polemic of De latenter vivendo. The man who follows Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ is now characterised as someone who throws himself into the unknown (ὁ δὲ εἰς τὴν ἄγνοιαν αὑτὸν ἐμβάλλων), who wraps himself in darkness (καὶ σκότος περιαμπισχόμενος), and who buries his life in an empty tomb (καὶ κενοταφῶν τὸν βίον) (1130BC). The first characterisation recalls the ambivalence of the term ἄγνοια, which should now clearly be understood in its passive sense (“the condition of being unknown”). Once again, if the transition from one diathesis to the other does not imply a strict complementarity between knowing and being known, the argumentation of the whole section is based on a logical fallacy. The second characterisation recalls the imagery of darkness. This imagery, often connected in De latenter vivendo to the maxim λάθε βιώσας (thus with the state of being unknown), is also contaminated by the ambivalence of the term ἄγνοια in the previous sentence, and is no longer free from ambiguity. The third characterisation, finally, anticipates Plutarch’s argument in the seventh chapter. Plutarch here alludes to the custom of honouring with an empty tomb the dead which were buried elsewhere or which could not be found, a custom which can be traced back to the earliest periods of Greek civilisation (cf. already Homer, Od. 4,584; cf. also 1,289-291 and 2,220-223). In Plutarch’s perspective, following the advice of the maxim λάθε βιώσας is tantamount to burying one’s life in such an empty tomb: empty, because one still belongs to the living, and a tomb, because such living comprises all the characteristics of death246. That the ‘unnoticed life’ of the Epicureans comes indeed very close to the condition of the dead, and more specifically to that of dead criminals, will be demonstrated by Plutarch in the last chapter of his little work. Plutarch thus concludes that the man who observes the maxim λάθε βιώσας appears to be distressed with his own birth (γένεσις) and to renounce being247. This turn towards the question of being was already present in the anti-hedonistic tradition on which the previous sentence was based248. At the same time, Plutarch returns with this conclusion to the ontological perspective of the first sentences of the sixth chapter, where he demonstrated by means of an atomistic argument that γένεσις (as a ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν) necessarily implies the condition of being known. In Plutarch’s interpretation of the A somewhat similar argument, though rooted in a different context, was directed by the Cyrenaics against Epicurus; cf. Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 2,21,130,8 (= fr. 451 Us.); Diog. Laert. 2,89; Maximus of Tyre, 15,7. 247 See G. Verbeke (1962), 23-24 for a Platonic interpretation of this passage. 248 Cf. Non posse 1093A and Aristotle, Protrept. fr. 7 Ross. 246


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maxim λάθε βιώσας as an exhortation to μὴ γινώσκεσθαι (or to ἄγνοια, in the passive sense of remaining unknown), Epicurus’ advice is necessarily opposed to the previous ontological definition of γένεσις. By returning at the very end of this chapter to the foregoing, atomistic-ontological reflections, Plutarch tries to blend the different traditions which he used in this chapter into one compact whole. 3.7. An eschatological perspective 3.7.1. After this argument in the sixth chapter of De latenter vivendo, all essential foundations of the maxim λάθε βιώσας have also been refuted in Plutarch’s Platonic perspective. Epicurus’ advice appeared to conflict not only with the demands of an ethical point of view and with the empirically verifiable facticity of everyday life, but also with the fundamental nature of human beings and with the will of God. In the concluding seventh chapter, Plutarch evokes an eschatological perspective, which gives several elements that were already discussed before their final place. Unfortunately, a serious problem of text-reconstruction makes the interpretation of this final chapter notoriously difficult249. The seventh chapter, as it has come down to us, can be divided into two main sections, which respectively describe the destiny of the good and that of the wicked250. The first part offers an elaborate description of the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος, where the sun (ἀελίου) shines (λάμπει) brightly and where a plain is spread out, full of trees, albeit sterile, yet flowery and shady, and watered by gently flowing streams. There, the souls of the good pass their time recalling the past and discussing the present (1130C). In spite of the serious problems Cf. commentary ad loc. The division between the blest and the good which is proposed by B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (1967), 339, might be connected to Pindar’s text, to be sure, but is rather artificial in this first part of the seventh chapter: a distinction between two separate groups is not expressed by means of a formula such as καὶ τοῖσιν. Cf. also B. Heininger (2000a), 74-75: “Ob damit wirklich etwas gewonnen ist, bleibt fraglich, zumal nicht recht zu sehen ist, worin denn der Unterschied zwischen den Frommen und Guten liegt”. Moreover, it is also possible that Plutarch does not refer to Pindar’s tripartite division between “Frommen, Bösen und zur Göttlichkeit erhobenen Heroen” (U. von Wilamowitz (1922), 500), but to the division which he also elaborated in Non posse, viz. a division between the wicked, the great crowd, and the good (1104A); cf. also G.M. Lattanzi (1932), 334; B. Heininger (2000b), 156; and the suggestion of R.M. Jones (1916), 67: “It might be assumed that since the lot of the righteous was first described, and the lot of the incurably wicked last, the intervening section dealt with curable sinners, who must be reborn on earth for further purification”. This suggestion is also accepted by H. Adam (1974), 70, n. 19, who recalls the parallel passage in De sera num. 564F and concludes: “Es ist ja durchaus denkbar, daß Plutarch nur für die Guten und für die unheilbar Schlechten Pindar zitiert oder die aus Ol. 2 bekannte Dreiteilung Pindars seinem Sinn uminterpretiert”. 249 250

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of textual criticism, which also obscure several minor details in this section of the seventh chapter251, it remains sufficiently clear that Plutarch here presents one of the traditional descriptions of the destiny of the good, with the typical loci communes of the genre. Moreover, the severely damaged text contains some indications that Plutarch here as well actively modified the raw material of the previous tradition towards the demands of his own polemic. It is striking, in any case, that both δόξα and εἶναι are apparently connected somehow or other with the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος. The notion of fame (δόξα), which Plutarch considers to be both diametrically opposed to the Epicurean λάθε βιώσας252 and the self-evident consequence of a virtue which makes itself known for the benefit of all253, is more pregnant with meaning than the simple γινώσκεσθαι in the atomistic reflections of the sixth chapter (1129F1130A). Through the notion of fame, the whole argument of human self-realisation by means of social commitment (hence, the combination of utilitarian-egoistic and utilitarian-altruistic argument) indeed returns in the eschatological perspective of the afterlife. It is in the first place men like Epameinondas, Lycurgus, Thrasybulus, Pythagoras, and Socrates (1128F), like Themistocles, Camillus, and Plato (1129BC), hence men who can be considered counterexamples of the maxim λάθε βιώσας, who will be found in the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος. Along with δόξα, Plutarch also connects εἶναι with the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος254. In this context, εἶναι may be interpreted in a rather pregnant way. In the first place, being here implies ethical goodness. Being in the fullest sense of the word is tantamount to being good255; true being implies a good life which will lead beyond death to δόξα and blessedness. But in the light of the immediately preceding ontological reflections of the sixth chapter, εἶναι also 251 The subject of ἔχουσιν [sc. αἱ ψυχαί] is not expressed and the meaning of παραπέμποντες αὐτούς (or αὑτούς?) is not immediately clear either. 252 Cf. in the first place chapter 1, where the maxim was interpreted as εἰς ἀδοξίαν προτροπή (1128B). 253 Cf. in the first place chapter 4, with the example of Epameinondas (1129C). 254 Here, the difficult problem of text-recontruction returns. It is far from impossible that εἶναι had originally a predicate (cf. the conjectural reading of E. Bignone (see commentary ad loc.); see also U. von Wilamowitz (1922), 499 on the first sentence: “so unverständlich, daß man den Punkt des Ausfalls nicht sicher bestimmen kann; δόξα schon versteht man nicht; die letzten Wörter gehören natürlich zu dem was anschließt”). Therefore, any attempt to interpret this problematic sentence could a priori be regarded as an attitude of ὕβρις which might seriously block the road to the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος. It remains the commentator’s task, however, to take such risks. In any case, I am conscious that the following interpretation, which is based on the text of B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (viz. with only the minor alteration φασιν instead of φύσιν), remains fairly uncertain. 255 In that sense, the thought is thoroughly Platonic, since Plato regards the Idea of the Good as the most important Idea (cf. R. 6, 505a; cf. also Socrates’ discussion of the sun as ἔκγονος τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ in R. 6, 508a-509c).


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retains its more ontological meaning. The εὐσεβῶν χῶρος is the place of being which also implies an attitude of active and benevolent approval of being. In opposition, Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας implies not only moral viciousness but also a rejection of being itself (cf. ἀπαυδᾶν πρὸς τὸ εἶναι at the end of chapter 6). Whereas from a protological perspective, God gives being to man εἰς γνῶσιν (1129EF), from an eschatological perspective, the connection γνῶσις (in its passive sense) – εἶναι can be modified, in the light of the ethicalontological abundance of εἶναι, towards a connection between εἶναι and the more pregnant δόξα. The approval of being and eo ipso of being known is the ideal soil in which the concrete πράξεις of virtue, and the fame they provide, can prosper. 3.7.2. In the second part of the seventh chapter, Plutarch gives an interesting description of the third road, which is the road of the wicked, those who have lived impiously and unlawfully (τῶν ἀνοσίως βεβιωκότων καὶ παρανόμως). Their souls end up in a dark pit, where the dull streams of the murky night (νυκτός) belch out an infinite darkness (σκότον) and where those who are punished disappear into ἄγνοια and λήθη (1130CD). As was the case with his description of the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος, Plutarch here recalls as well some central issues of the previous chapters and thus connects the traditional loci communes which he had at his disposal to the specific subject of De latenter vivendo. The great importance which he attached to God and to the law, for instance, both present in his basic programme of the ‘good life’ (1129B), returns in this eschatological perspective, in sharp opposition to the irreligious (ἀνοσίως) and unlawful (παρανόμως) behaviour attributed to the Epicureans, which appears to belong to the darkest depths of the underworld. Also, the theme of darkness and night, ἄγνοια and λήθη, omnipresent in the previous chapters and always closely connected to Epicurus’ exhortation to ‘live unnoticed’, now returns in this eschatological context, as the punishment of the wicked. Plutarch continues by clarifying the reason (cf. γάρ) why punishment in the afterlife consists in ἄγνοια and λήθη. He rejects the corporeal punishments after death, which were depicted often with great ingeniosity in the age-old tradition, as impossible, on the ground that after death, nothing remains which would be able to suffer such corporeal penalties (1130D)256. With this radical denial of the traditional myths regarding the underworld, which also occurs elsewhere in his œuvre257, Plutarch is on the same wave On the corporeality of the soul in De facie 943DE, see P. Donini (1988), 140-143. Cf., e.g., De sup. 166F-167A; De virt. mor. 450A, and in the first place De aud. poet. 17bc, where Plutarch argues that even the poets themselves attach no credence to what they have written concerning the underworld; in this perspective, Pindar’s verses, which Plutarch quotes with approval in the seventh chapter of De lat. viv., prove to be a mere poetic fable. And yet, in the myth of De sera num. 566E-567D, Plutarch himself invents some cruel punishments in the afterlife; cf. G. Soury (1942), 221-223 and C. Santaniello (2000), 406; on this apparent contradiction, see H. Adam (1974), 68-69. 256 257

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length as Epicurus, although there remain important differences between both thinkers. In Epicurus’ view, both soul and body are destroyed at the moment of death, being dissolved into their constitutive atoms, so that not only the tales about corporeal punishments but even the very existence of an afterlife belongs to the realm of myth and fantasy258. Plutarch, on the other hand, only denies the survival of the body, which is cremated or inhumed after death (cf. κατακέκαυται γὰρ ἢ κατασέσηπεν, 1130D)259. Now one should note that, although this radically dualistic position is thoroughly Platonic in spirit, the concrete details seem at first sight somewhat different from Plato’s doctrine about what follows death as it is elaborated in the Phaedo. There, it is only the pure soul which can escape from the body (80e-81a). The souls of the wicked, on the contrary, which also after death seem to have some connection to the body, wander about in the neighbourhood of monuments and tombs, as shadowy phantoms (σκιοειδῆ φαντάσματα, 81d), until they finally re-enter, through the desire of the corporeal, the cycle of metempsychosis (81de). By emphasising the radical and total disconnection of body and soul after death in the case of both the good and the wicked, Plutarch succeeds in combining his eschatological reflections regarding the punishments in the underworld with his anti-Epicurean polemic in De latenter vivendo. Indeed, since not only corporeal torments but even the process of reincarnation seems to be totally absent as punishment of the wicked in the afterlife, there is but one serious penalty which remains: from the river Λήθη260, they will be carried off to an unfathomed, yawning sea of ἀδοξία, ἄγνοια καὶ παντελῶς ἀφανισμός, which draws along all their previous ἀχρηστία, ἀπραξία, ἄγνοια, and ἀδοξία261 (1130E). 3.7.3. It is immediately clear of course that Plutarch’s eschatological argument in the seventh chapter will not convince an orthodox Epicurean, who will rather adopt Epicurus’ notorious claim that death is “nothing to us”, since “what is dissolved is without sensation, and what is without sensation, 258 Cf., e.g., Epist. ad Her. 81; Lucretius, 3,978-1023; Diogenes of Oenoanda, fr. 73, i, 3-8; Lactantius, inst. 3,17,42 (= fr. 341 Us.); Cicero, Tusc. 1,10-11 and 1,48. 259 Cf. also Rom. 28,7. 260 For the precise meaning of Λήθη in this context, and the differences with De sera num. 566A, see commentary ad loc. 261 In this way, Plutarch for the last time recalls some essential themes of his short polemical work. The term ἀχρηστία refers to the utilitarian-altruistic argument which was developed at length in chapters 3 and 4 (cf. 1128D; 1128F; 1129BC). The word ἀπραξία recalls once again the fundamental importance of πρᾶξις (cf. 1129C and 1129E). And the term ἄγνοια, even if not entirely free from a certain ambiguity (cf. 1130BC), is undoubtedly one of the most important terms in De lat. viv., as it characterises Plutarch’s interpretation of the Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας (cf. 1129B; 1129D; cf. also 1128F). The word ἀδοξία, finally, resumes the foregoing reflections concerning fame, a notion which, according to Plutarch, is totally alien to the maxim as εἰς ἀδοξίαν προτροπή (cf. 1128B).


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is nothing to us”262. Each perception ends at the moment of death, when body and soul perish at the same time. Plutarch’s eschatological reflections, on the other hand, presuppose the doctrine of the soul’s immortality and are as such totally unconvincing to the orthodox Epicureans as an argument against the maxim λάθε βιώσας. On the contrary, in the conviction that it is the same practice to live well and to die well263, Epicurus may even have added to the maxim λάθε βιώσας its complement λάθε ἀποβιώσας264. 3.7.4. One should nevertheless note that Plutarch's eschatological argument is far more subtle than a mere confirmation of the soul's immortality against Epicurean thinking. In order to evaluate the precise scope of Plutarch's antiEpicurean polemic in the seventh chapter of De latenter vivendo correctly, one should in the first place be familiar with his own convictions concerning death and the afterlife. a) Now in spite of Plutarch's “unshakable belief in an afterlife for the soul”265, which seems to be illustrated in this part of De latenter vivendo as well, it remains true that the immortality of the soul is nowhere proved by means of a purely rational argument in the surviving works of the Corpus Plutarcheum. Usually, Plutarch falls back on the Orphic-Pythagorean tradition, without giving further arguments. This, however, should not be regarded as testimonium paupertatis, nor as evidence for Plutarch's ignorance on the subject. Treatises such as De animae procreatione in Timaeo and RS 2 = SV 2. Plutarch attacked this tenet from a logical point of view in the second book of his Homeric Studies (n° 42 of the Lamprias catalogue); cf. fr. 123 Sandbach. For Epicurus’ doctrine concerning death, see also, e.g., SV 14; 30; 31; Epist. ad Men. 124127; fr. 336-339 Us.; Lucretius, 3,417-1094 (and 3,356-357); Philodemus, De morte; Cicero, Tusc. 1,82-111 (passim); F.D. Miller (1976); S.E. Rosenbaum (1986); J. Salem (1989), 204-227; R. Müller (1991), 92-97; J. Warren (2004). 263 Cf. Epist. ad Men. 126: τὸ τὴν αὐτὴν εἶναι μελέτην τοῦ καλῶς ζῆν καὶ τοῦ καλῶς ἀποθνῄσκειν. 264 Cf. Philostratus, VA 8,28 (= fr. 551 Us.): λάθε βιώσας· εἰ δὲ μὴ δύναιο, λάθε ἀποβιώσας; Horace, epist. 1,17,10; Anth. Lat. 408,8. It is not perfectly certain, however, that the maxim λάθε ἀποβιώσας can be traced back to Epicurus himself; cf. also infra, commentary on 1129A (ἵνα μηδὲ ἀποθανόντες λάθωσιν). 265 C.J. Gianakaris (1970), 117; see also J.D. Bierens De Haan (1902), 85: “Hij is met alle verzekerdheid van de onsterfelijkheid zijner ziel overtuigd”; E. Zeller (1903), 199: “Von der Wahrheit dieses Glaubens ist er volkommen überzeugt”; B. Latzarus (1920), 121: “il croit à l’immortalité de l’âme sans aucun restriction”; K. Ziegler (1951), 941: “Gegründet sind diese Lehren auf den festen Glauben an die Unsterblichkeit der Individualseele, etc.”; H. Weber (1959), 22: “Unerschütterlich fest steht für Plutarch der Glaube an die Unsterblichkeit der Seele”; M. Pinnoy (1967), 307: “We staan hier voor een onwankelbaar geloof, etc.” (our italics); and also R. Volkmann (1869), II, 74-79; R.M. Jones (1916), 67; R. Del Re (1965); E. Valgiglio (1988), 110. 262

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Platonicae Quaestiones sufficiently show that he was thoroughly familiar with even the most technical aspects of the Plato-exegesis which dominated the foregoing centuries of Platonism. It is not impossible, then, that Plutarch elsewhere proposed rational, technical proofs of the immortality of the soul266. However, in order to reach a correct evaluation of Plutarch’s argument in the seventh chapter, one should first place his position with regard to the afterlife back into the sceptical tradition which dominated the Early Academy from Arcesilaus on267. Like most of the Academics, Plutarch indeed observed the ἐποχὴ περὶ πάντων concerning what follows death. He explicitly points out that the final truth on these matters is extremely hard to grasp, even for those who have made it their sole task to seek it out (De aud. poet. 17DE), and emphasises that Socrates himself did not know for certain what would happen after death (17EF)268. In line with this sceptical attitude, Plutarch preferred the Academic strategy in contrarias partes disserendi269. More 266 Titles of lost treatises in the Lamprias catalogue (such as n° 177: Περὶ τοῦ γνῶθι σαυτὸν καὶ εἰ ἀθάνατος ἡ ψυχή, or n° 226: Ὅτι ἄφθαρτος ἡ ψυχή) may point in this direction. That Plutarch knew the most important passages where Plato dealt with the question of immortality appears from Cons. ad Apoll. 120DE, where the term ὑπομνηματισάμενος suggests a profound familiarity with Plato’s Phaedo. 267 Speusippus and Xenocrates still believed in the doctrine of the soul’s immortality, which they even extended to irrational life; cf. Damascius, In Phaed. 1,177 Westerink. Later, the sceptical tendencies came to the fore with regard to this issue as well. It is important to see that the Academics tried to find the sources of their attitude of scepticism in Plato himself. To that purpose, they pointed to several passages of the Platonic dialogues where Plato/Socrates expressed his own doubts on the matter at stake. The Apology is obviously aporetic (one should only recall the famous last sentence; cf. also 29a), and the Phaedo also contains several indications of uncertainty (cf., e.g., 63c; 85c; and especially Simmias’ position at the end of the philosophical discussion; 107ab). In any case, we know from Olympiodorus that the latter dialogue was drawn into the epistemological debates of the period. He tells us that the Neoplatonist Ammonius wrote a monograph against those philosophers who believed that Socrates himself doubted the immortality of the soul (In Phaed. 8,17 Westerink; cf. also 6,14). Apparently, there existed at least some tendencies in Academic or Middle-Platonic circles to interpret Plato in a sceptical way. Of course, the passages which were referred to were often divorced from their context and do not prove that Plato was really a sceptic (cf. J. Annas (1992), 70), but they do reveal a certain caution. Plato was probably conscious of the fact that his own rational argumentation in the end might fail to convince a critical reader. 268 Cf. also Plutarch’s long quotation and positive evaluation (cf. πάνυ δαιμονίως) of Socrates’ words in Cons. ad Apoll. 108E. 269 One should note that Plutarch was thoroughly familiar with the method, which he defends against Chrysippus in De Stoic. rep. 1035F-1037C. Moreover, the Lamprias catalogue mentions a treatise in 5 volumes which was dedicated to it (n° 45: Περὶ τῆς εἰς ἑκάτερον ἐπιχειρήσεως βιβλία ε'; considered inauthentic by A.G. Nikolaidis (1999a), 412). The fundamental dilemma between immortality and complete annihilation of the soul


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than once, he places his view on what follows death back in the framework of the traditional dilemma between annihilation and immortality of the soul270, a dilemma which can be traced back to Plato himself (esp. Ap. 40c; cf. also Phd. 91b and 107c). In the Consolatio ad Apollonium 107D-110E, this traditional dilemma, explicitly attributed to Socrates271, is even split up into three alternatives, all of which receive their proper argument: whether death resembles the deepest sleep, should be conceived as a kind of journey, or is a complete annihilation of the soul, it will in any case not bring about something evil. But if Plutarch never claimed to know with absolute and purely rational certainty that the soul is immortal272, one should be extremely cautious to regard the eschatological reflections of the seventh chapter of De latenter vivendo as a confident, foregone argument in favour of the soul’s immortality. On the contrary, Plutarch here obviously enters the domain of myth, the argumentative value of which is certainly not up to the level of rational argumentation273. Plutarch himself emphasises often enough that one should not unquestioningly accept every element of the myths but only derive what dominates the Ps.-Platonic dialogue Axiochus, which as such is a very interesting source for the position of Platonism at that time, and is also prominent in the first book of Cicero’s Tusc. disp. Perhaps, Crantor’s famous consolatio Περὶ πένθους, one of the bestsellers of the time (cf. Cicero, ac. 2,135; Diog. Laert. 4,27), played the role of catalyst in the application of the method in contrarias partes disserendi to the question about what follows after death. Indeed, if it is true that “Crantor seems to have presented two opposed beliefs, namely, the total annihilation of the soul with the loss of all sensation, and the immortality of the soul with the joys of a future life” (thus J.P. Hershbell (1981), 19; cf. also J. Chevalier (1915), 77; J. Souilhé (1962), 130), the method of discussing the subject in utramque partem was even used before Arcesilaus and Carneades and goes back to the first generations of the Academy. 270 Cf., e.g., Cons. ad ux. 611D; cf. also Non posse 1104A-1107C; De sera num. 560A561B (the whole treatise is directed against Epicureanism; cf. 548A-C; the Epicurean doctrine of the annihilation of the soul is alluded to in 560C). 271 Plutarch tries to attribute not only the dilemma itself, but also the following argumentation of each pole, to Socrates (Cons. ad Apoll. 107D), although the latter had only presented two alternatives; cf. J. Hani (1972), 167. 272 Cf. also J. Favre (1909), 335: “Plutarque n’a pas une ferme croyance en l’immortalité de l’âme. Ce n’est pas chez lui une conviction, mais une espérance qui semble être au fond de sa religion”. It is precisely as a consequence of this sceptical position that theological reflections, the πάτριος λόγος, and traditional πίστις become important. When human reason is no longer able to prove the immortality of the soul with logical certainty, one cannot but revert to the πάτριος λόγος, which thus regains all its auctoritas (Amatorius 756B). In short, πίστις should fill the gap which scepticism has left behind (cf. the end of fr. 178 Sandbach). 273 See esp. De Is. et Os. 374E and Amatorius 762A; cf. also De sera num. 561B and De genio Socr. 589F, with the commentary of B. Latzarus (1920), 126. On Plutarch’s attitude to myth and its interpretation, see P.R. Hardie (1992).

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is useful from them274. Which benefit, then, could be derived from the myth at the end of De latenter vivendo? In order to answer that question, one should further examine Plutarch’s view on what follows death. Why should one finally give preference to such mythical tales? What can be the benefit of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul? And is the Epicurean doctrine about the soul’s annihilation not a valid alternative? b) Plutarch’s sceptical caution about what follows death did not force him into a position of complete equipollence. In the end, he always turns out to prefer, even at a purely theoretical level, the doctrine of the soul’s immortality275. That this preference, however, does not rest on any certainty but on a purely rational calculus, appears from the final sentence of the Consolatio ad uxorem: even if one does not know with absolute certainty what follows death, one should in the end opt for the doctrine of immortality because it is harder to disbelieve it than to believe it276. Exactly the same strategy of rational calculation is used against Epicurus in the final part of Non posse, where Plutarch tries to demonstrate that the happiness of the living is to a great extent conditioned by their convictions about what follows death (1104A-1107A). To that purpose, he starts from a fundamental trichotomy. The wicked (οἱ ἄδικοι καὶ πονηροί) are only deterred from crime by their fear of punishment in the afterlife (1104AB). The great crowd (οἱ πολλοί) is dominated by an enormous πόθος τοῦ εἶναι and fears nothing so much as the condition of complete insensibility after death (1104E), so that the Epicurean point of view deprives the ordinary man of his greatest hope (1104B-1105C). To the good (οἱ ἀγαθοί), finally, the hope of recompense after death and the pleasant expectation of real life (βίον ἀληθῆ) brings about in this life already great pleasures (1105C-1106A). It is clear that, whereas Epicurus with his doctrine about the annihilation of the soul once again proves to be his own worst enemy, belief in the soul’s immortality considerably improves, in Plutarch’s view, the quality of life hic et nunc, and thus turns out to be the most useful alternative indeed277. c) This attitude of purely rational calculation throws an interesting light on Plutarch’s eschatological reflections in the seventh chapter of De latenter 274 That this also holds for the myths about the destiny of the soul appears from De aud. poet. 14ef. For Plutarch’s utilitarian attitude towards literature in general, see G. Roskam (2005a), 272-277. 275 See, e.g., Cons. ad Apoll. 120B and De tranq. an. 476B. 276 Cf. Cons. ad ux. 612AB; cf. also the position of Cicero, Cato 85 and Arch. 30. Plutarch follows the same strategy of rational computation with regard to the problem of eating meat. Starting from the fundamental uncertainty about the doctrine of metempsychosis (De esu 998D), he concludes that the safest strategy is that of not eating the flesh of animals (998D-F). 277 Cf. also G. Roskam (1999a).


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vivendo. Far from offering a decisive proof of the immortality of the soul, Plutarch’s eschatological argument has a double function, in conformity with the two main parts of the chapter. On the one hand, Plutarch strongly advises against Epicurus’ exhortation to ‘live unnoticed’, by connecting the consequences of the maxim λάθε βιώσας in this life, that is, ἄγνοια and λήθη, directly to the severest punishment of the wicked in the afterlife. In this respect, the eschatological argument is thus used as a means to deter potential criminals from their crimes278 and proves to be perfectly in line with Plutarch’s reflections concerning the first target group which was distinguished in the final section of Non posse (1104AB)279. Avoiding crime and avoiding Epicureanism appears to be one and the same thing. On the other hand, Plutarch’s eschatological reflections also contain a considerable confirmation of the good (viz. the third target group in Non posse), by offering a justification of their fundamental convictions. The εὐσεβῶν χῶρος is not an enclosed garden but a vast plain (πεδίον), dominated by the light of the sun (ἀελίου) instead of the darkness of the night. Moreover, whereas each dimension of sociality appears to be absent from the darkness of the underworld280, it enters into the description of the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος, where the souls pass their time, recalling the past and discussing the present, συνόντες. The social nature of human beings appears to be fundamental enough to survive the body281. The eschatological argument thus forms an important stimulus for the good, and even increases the pleasures of their vita activa by appealing to their hopes for greater pleasures after death (cf. also Non posse 1106A). One may add that this double function of Plutarch’s eschatological argument also throws light on the relevance of eschatological reflections in the domain of his social ethics. The already discussed fr. 178 Sandbach has raised in this context some fundamental questions (cf. supra, 3.5.2). Social ethics proved only meaningful in the hic et nunc, and appeared to lose all its Plutarch realised very well that this position fits in with Epicurus’ doctrine concerning fear of punishment; cf. Non posse 1104B. His argument is at the interface between external and internal criticism. 279 It should be noted that the spectacle of cruel punishments in the underworld had the same effects on Thespesius, who changed his previous wicked conduct and became the most pious and honest of all; cf. De sera num. 563C-E. 280 Cf. also De sera num. 564B: ἐρέμβοντο πρῶτον αὐταὶ καθ’ ἑαυτάς; Plato, Phd. 108bc; Diog. Laert. 8,31. 281 Cf. also Non posse 1105E: μηδὲ ἔχοντες [sc. the Epicureans] ἐλπίδα τῆς ὁμιλίας ἐκείνης καὶ φιλοφροσύνης, ἣν ἔχουσιν οἱ τὰ αὐτὰ Πυθαγόρᾳ καὶ Πλάτωνι καὶ Ὁμήρῳ περὶ ψυχῆς δοξάζοντες; fr. 178 Sandbach: ... καὶ σύνεστιν ὁσίοις καὶ καθαροῖς ἀνδράσι. See also Plato’s famous myth of Er at the end of the Republic, where Plato describes in a protological perspective how the souls come together in a meadow and encamp there as at a festival (οἷον ἐν πανηγύρει κατασκηνᾶσθαι), how those who are acquainted with each other are greeting one another (ἀσπάζεσθαί τε ἀλλήλας ὅσαι γνώριμαι), and how they tell their experiences to each other (10, 614e), until they set off for a long journey to the Fates (10, 616b). 278

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relevance in the eschatological perspective of the afterlife. The reason of this strict limitation within the field of social ethics could be found in the close connection between social ethics and corporeality. Now both in the seventh chapter of De latenter vivendo and in the surviving fragment from Plutarch’s De anima, the survival of the body after death is explicitly rejected. What can then be the significance of eschatology in the context of social ethics? As a means to deter potential criminals from their crimes, eschatological reflections can be important for social ethics hic et nunc, without implying any social ethics after death. In other terms, they offer an argument taken from the Jenseits, but aiming at the Diesseits. And even if the element of human sociality can also survive in the afterlife, it is not linked to the body. Neither in the seventh chapter of De latenter vivendo, nor in the fragment from De anima could one detect any trace of utilitarian-altruistic efforts in the service of the public interest. What is lacking is the component of concrete action (πρᾶξις) and hence what is essential in, and typical of, the domain of (social) ethics. This implies that the relation between eschatology and social ethics in the works of Plutarch should be regarded as unilateral: eschatology has a meaningful part to play within social ethics, but not vice versa. 3.7.5. This is not the whole story, however. Social ethics in the full sense of the word (including the corporeality and the element of πρᾶξις in the hic et nunc), though meaningless in the afterlife, can be very important for the dead people in the afterlife. This becomes clear if one turns to yet another essential aspect of Plutarch’s position concerning death and the afterlife which up to now has remained absent from our discussion. Even if Plutarch, in spite of his attitude of sceptical εὐλάβεια, gave preference to the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, he made room for another way of surviving after death: “Oltre alla vita dopo la morte nel senso di una vita nell’aldilà, esiste anche un continuare a vivere nel ricordo dei sopravvissuti. Per Plutarco l’uomo si eterna o deve tentare di eternarsi in entrambe le maniere. Egli agendo bene può sperare di meritarsi un premio nell’aldilà e di essere ricordato in terra per le proprie azioni282.” One may in the first place point to an interesting passage from De sera numinis vindicta, where Plutarch tries to combine these two radically different ways of surviving. He there argues that the great importance which the god Apollo himself attaches to propitiatory offerings and honours for the dead can be regarded as evidence of the immortality of the soul, on the ground that Apollo’s frequent exhortations would be just as frequent forms of de F. Albini (1993), 27.

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ception if the soul would perish immediately at the moment of death (560CD). But if Apollo himself makes much of revering the dead283, honour is obviously constitutive of the happiness of the life hereafter284, whereas ἄγνοια and λήθη, once again, prove to be pernicious. a) With such convictions, Plutarch is in line with an age-old tradition. As early as Homer, the practice of honouring the dead appears to be of paramount importance285. Moreover, the dead themselves are apparently striving for the survival of their names, as appears from Anticleia’s request to her son Odysseus286. On the other hand, the desire of the living to survive after death in the memory of future generations is no doubt one of the important Leitmotive in ancient literature287. b) From the Epicurean perspective, such a desire is simply naive and irrational. This appears most clearly from the extant part of Philodemus’ De morte. It is true that Philodemus considers the fear of being forgotten after death to be natural (col. xxxv, 34-37), though only because oblivion is often the direct result of a bad life without friends (37-39). However, this certainly does not imply that one should strive for great achievements in order to survive in the memory of posterity288. If one wishes to be remembered, it should be because of the happiness one has enjoyed during one’s life and not because of the fame which follows a miserable life (col. xxxvi, 12-16). Moreover, a corpse that has lost all sensation no longer notices all those That it is precisely Apollo who shows this concern for the honours of the dead, fits in very well with the way in which the god was depicted in the sixth chapter of De lat. viv.: whereas Hades (from ἀϊδές, 1130A) appeared as the sovereign of the realm of darkness, ἄγνοια, and λήθη, the sun, “being Apollo” (but cf. supra, 3.6.2.4bc), Delian and Pythian, was closely linked to the element of γνῶσις (in its passive sense of “being known”). 284 One should bear in mind that δόξα somehow or other was connected with the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος at the outset of the seventh chapter of De latenter vivendo (1130C). 285 One should only recall the funeral games in honour of Patroclus (Il. 23,257-897), or Priamus’ supplication to Achilles in order to get Hector’s body back (Il. 24,477-558). Moreover, the dead themselves desire funeral rites, as appears from Il. 23,69-70. 286 Od. 11,223-224 (quoted in De aud. poet. 16ef). 287 Cf., e.g., Tyrtaeus, fr. 12,31 Edmonds; Theognis, 237-254; Aristophanes, Ra. 868869; Euripides, IT 695-697; Isaeus, 2,36-37; Apollonius of Rhodes, 4,1773-1775; Dio of Prusa, 31,16-22; Cicero, Arch. 28-30; Horace, carm. 3,30 (non omnis moriar); Ovid, met. 15,871-879; am. 1,15,41-42; 3,15,20; Trist. 4,10,129-130; the great πόθος of Pliny, epist. 3,7,14; 3,16,6 (the famous Paete non dolet); 5,5,4; 5,8,2-3; 6,10,4-5; 6,16,1; 7,20,2; 7,33,1; 9,14; etc. This universal desire is also aptly expressed in Plato’s Smp. 208cd; and cf. Lg. 4, 721bc. In that perspective, the damnatio memoriae proves to be a very severe punishment indeed. 288 Cf. also the position of Marcus Aurelius, 4,33. 283

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previous great accomplishments so much admired by future generations (col. xxviii, 32-36)289. And one may add that, if oblivion is really a misfortune, one should consider most people unhappy, ever since the time one has begun to write down historical events, and everyone before that time (col. xxxvi, 17-23)290. Under such circumstances, one could even consider simply everyone in the cosmos, belonging to past or future generations, to be unhappy, for after the destruction of the cosmos, nobody will be remembered because everyone will be utterly destroyed (col. xxxvi, 23-27). Philodemus’ view thus shows that, according to the Epicurean doctrine, the dead can neither suffer any harm by negligence on the part of the living nor benefit from reverence and recollection. Conversely, those who are here and now in a sorry plight by no means profit from the fact that all future generations will consider them happy291. c) In the light of this Epicurean rationalism, Plutarch’s acceptance of the ideal of surviving in the memory of later generations appears somewhat naive. This does not alter the fact, however, that the concern for what may happen after death, however irrational that may be, is in any case well in line with an authentically human instinctive feeling. Nobody likes to fall dead in a busy shopping centre, although the agitation he has caused will probably not trouble him much. For Plutarch, however, such instinctive feeling has nothing irrational in itself. For contrary to Epicurus, he seems to accept perception after death. One may point to another argument in Non posse, which takes as its point of departure the observation that learning the truth is just as dear as living and being, whereas the most sullen part of death is λήθη and ἄγνοια and σκότος (1093A). It is because of this reason (cf. ᾗ), Plutarch goes on, that almost everyone (ὀλίγου δεῖν ἅπαντες) rejects the Epicurean doctrine of death. For everybody places living and being and the feeling of delight In De bono rege col. xlii, 1 – xliii, 20, Philodemus deals with the posthumous fame of the good king. The fragments, however, are too mutilated to draw many conclusions from them in this context. According to O. Murray (1965), 174, this section of De bono rege is the only one which contains clear Epicurean influence: “The only cogent instance of Epicurean influence [sc. in De bono rege] is that, in the concluding section on the rewards of the good life, κλέος alone seems to be mentioned – the one reward after death which does not involve a belief in immortality”. However, from an orthodox Epicurean point of view, the loss of all sensation at the moment of death makes this ‘reward’ totally insignificant. In the light of Philodemus’ argument in De morte, one should in any case be cautious in considering the whole section on posthumous fame in De bono rege without restriction to be orthodox Epicurean. 290 One should not worry much about the survival of one’s name, however, bearing in mind that countless men are in fact called by the same name after death (col. xxii, 12-16). One may point to Stobaeus, 4,58, which is dedicated to the subject ὅτι τῶν πλείστων μετὰ θάνατον ἡ μνήμη διαρρεῖ ταχέως. 291 Col. xxxvi, 27-31; cf. once again the position of Marcus Aurelius, 4,19. 289


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only in that part of the soul that is able to perceive and to know292. As a direct conclusion, even life hereafter should contain the elements of perception and knowledge in order to be life293. The question remains, to be sure, what will the domain of this perception in the afterlife be. One could in the first place think of a perception of what happens after death in the hereafter. The souls can converse both about what has happened before (reminiscing of previous experiences during their life on earth) and about what actually goes on in the afterlife itself (μνήμαις καὶ λόγοις τῶν γεγονότων καὶ ὄντων; 1130C). However, that the scope of ὄντων should not be confined to the domain of the hereafter but can be extended to the world of the living in the hic et nunc as well294, appears from the myth of De sera numinis vindicta, where Plutarch mentions as the most shameful punishment the perception of the suffering of one’s offspring on one’s own account (561A). But if the wicked are thus post mortem punished through their own living progeny, they must somehow be

292 Non posse 1093A: ... ὡς ἐν μόνῳ τῷ αἰσθανομένῳ καὶ γινώσκοντι τῆς ψυχῆς τιθέμενοι τὸ ζῆν καὶ τὸ εἶναι καὶ τὸ χαίρειν. It is the element of αἴσθησις which marks most clearly the antiEpicurean polemic; cf. also H. Adam (1974), 43. It returns in Non posse 1103CD; 1104E; 1105A; 1106B; 1106EF. The element of γινώσκειν, important in the sixth chapter of De lat. viv., also returns in this context in connection with αἴσθησις; cf., e.g., Non posse 1105A, where Epicurus’ conception of death is expressed as τὴν εἰς τὸ μὴ φρονοῦν μηδὲ αἰσθανόμενον διάλυσιν τῆς ψυχῆς. See also De genio Socr. 592E. 293 The same close connection between life and perception can be found in Aristotle’s Protrepticus, fr. 7 Ross. 294 Plutarch is not the only author in Antiquity who believes that the dead can still perceive what happens on earth. See, e.g., Simonides, Epigr. 9 Campbell (= fr. 99 Bergk); Pindar, P. 5,98-103; O. 8,77-80; 14,20-25; Lysias, 12,100; Ion (in AP 7,43,3; to Euripides); Seneca, dial. 6,25,2-3. Menander Rhetor mentions this belief as one of the loci communes of the παραμυθητικὸς λόγος; cf. 2,414,20-21 (on the dead). For the position of Plato, see in the first place Mx. 236de; cf. Lg. 11, 926e-927a and Ps.-Plato, Ep. 2, 311c. One should note, on the other hand, that the proviso εἴ τις ἔστι τοῖς τετελευτηκόσιν αἴσθησις τῶν ζώντων (Mx. 248bc) is also very current in ancient texts; cf., e.g., Sophocles, El. 356; Demosthenes, 20,87; Isocrates, 9,2; cf. also 14,61 and 19,42; Lycurgus, In Leocrat. 136; Hyperides, Epit. 43; AP 7,23,6; 9,387,1; 9,450; Ovid, Pont. 1,2,111; cf. also 2,2,98; Seneca, dial. 11,5,2; cf. also Ps.-Sen., Octavia 13; Servius Sulpicius Rufus, ap. Cic., fam. 4,5,6. For the position of Aristotle, see EN 1, 1101a35-1101b9. Cicero ascribes the conviction that the dead still have some powers of perception to the ancient tradition and also draws attention to pontifical law and funeral rites (Tusc. 1,27). He further emphasises that everyone shares this belief (argument of consensus omnium; 1,35). However, in line with Academic scepsis, he argues the other side as well, emphasising that the dead are deprived of all sensation (1,92; it may be noted that already in Homer, the dead are explicitly named senseless (ἀφραδέες); Od. 11,476), thus advocating a position which questions the current funeral practices (1,102-108; cf. also Philodemus, De morte col. xxx, 7 – xxxiii, 36). Nevertheless, Cicero is in the end not so radical as to abolish these funeral customs (1,109).

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able to witness what happens on earth295. One could also point to Plutarch’s account of the malady which affected the women of Miletus296. Feeling a strong yearning for death, they hung themselves without any apparent reason and nobody could deter them, until someone enacted the law that the women who hung themselves should be carried naked through the agora to their burial297. Immediately, the plague stopped, a fact which Plutarch considers to be evidence of the women’s natural goodness and virtue (εὐφυΐας καὶ ἀρετῆς). For whereas they were not afraid of death and pain, they could not bear shame after death298. Here as well, Plutarch’s positive evaluation seems to imply acceptance of perception after death. In the Epicurean perspective, on the other hand, the behaviour of the Milesian women will most likely be characterised as irrational and erroneous299. It is clear of course that this position of Plutarch has consequences of paramount importance. If the dead can indeed somehow or other be affected by the deeds of the living, the domain of the hic et nunc, and thus of social ethics, becomes very important for the happiness of the dead in the life hereafter. d) It is important to note that this even throws light on Plutarch’s motives to write his Lives. This, at least, appears from the proem to the pair CimonLucullus. There, Plutarch mentions that the Chaeroneans of Lucullus’ time already gave a marble statue to their great benefactor, in gratitude for his intervention at the process concerning the crimes of Damon300. In recognition of Lucullus’ service, the consequences of which could still be felt in Plutarch’s day (Cim. 2,2), Plutarch decides to write a Life of Lucullus, and to reproduce the accomplishments of his hero without omitting his imperfections (which, however, should be regarded as shortcomings in some virtue, rather than as villainies due to viciousness; 2,5). There is no need of dishonest concealment of bad characteristics, nor would Lucullus himself have wished a false picture of his career. The mere mention of his achievements is sufficient enough a favour to show to him (ἀρκεῖ γὰρ ἡ τῆς μνήμης χάρις). The See also De sera num. 560AB, with the commentary of P.H. De Lacy – B. Einarson (1959), 251, note f. Such perception after death is denied in Pel. 33,5 (οὐδὲ αἰσθανομένῳ τὰς ἀξίας τιμὰς ἀποδώσουσιν; words uttered by the Thessalians after the death of Pelopidas) and in Dion 36,1 (εἰς ἀναίσθητον); cf. also Pyrrh. 8,4. 296 Cf. Mul. virt. 249B-D. Plutarch probably mentioned the same story in his lost work De anima (fr. 175 Sandbach). For a short discussion, see P.A. Stadter (1965), 76-77. 297 In De anima, Plutarch added that they also retained the noose which had been around their neck (fr. 175 Sandbach). 298 In that respect, they far surpassed the worthless and cowardly Perseus, who preferred the disgrace of walking in Aemilius’ triumph to a more honourable death (Aem. 34,1-2). 299 Cf. F.H. Sandbach (1969), 310, note a: “The point may be that concern about the fate of the body after death is logical only if a soul will survive that could be distressed at any indignities the body suffers.” 300 See C.P. Jones (1971), 6-7 and P.A. Stadter (1997), 70-71 for the historical circumstances. 295


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element of μνήμη thus once again becomes of prime importance. By writing the Life of Lucullus, Plutarch saves him from eternal ἄγνοια and λήθη. What really matters is the recollection of his life and accomplishments; the rest are only details. Once again, the happiness of the dead is only complete when his fame is established301. 3.7.6. One may conclude, then, that Plutarch tries to reconcile the Platonic (Orphic-Pythagorean) eschatological doctrine concerning the immortality of the soul with the traditional thinking, where, as a direct result of the pessimistic eschatology regarding the shadowy existence in the realm of ghosts, the hope of immortality was to a great extent concentrated on the survival of the name. The immortality of the soul and her final destiny (εὐσεβῶν χῶρος versus ἔρεβος) form the starting points of an eschatology in which traditional thinking also plays a part. This introduction of the traditional doctrine about the survival of the name into the Platonic eschatological perspective has some crucial consequences for the relation between (social) ethics and eschatology and for the concrete programme of (social) ethics. The scope of the utilitarian-altruistic aspect is considerably broadened. Gratitude for benefactions should incite descendants to put their feelings of recognition into practice (the element of πρᾶξις), in the service of the honour and thus of the happiness of the dead. The domain of social commitment in favour of the public interest thus extends to the dead as well, who can still claim the honours which they deserve for their previous achievements. The utilitarianegoistic aspect gains more importance too, as social commitment in the service of the public interest will not only lead to human self-realisation in the hic et nunc, but also to a δόξα which guarantees eternal blessedness in the afterlife. In this way, utilitarian-altruistic and utilitarian-egoistic πρᾶξις in the service of one’s community is rewarded after death, thanks to the utilitarian-altruistic πρᾶξις of progeny. In that sense, the followers of the Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας, which dooms each εὐπραγία to λήθη (1129A), for the last time fail to do justice to both themselves and others, since they harm both their own blessedness and that of others302. In this way, Plutarch elaborates the well-known Solonic wisdom to call nobody happy πρὶν τελευτήσαντα καλῶς τὸν αἰῶνα (Herodotus, 1,32). It should be noted, however, that also in Solon’s discourse, the state funeral of Tellus, and the raising of statues of Cleobis and Biton at Delphi, appear as one of the constitutive elements of their happiness. For Plutarch’s version of the story, see esp. Sol. 27,1-7; cf. Comp. Sol. et Publ. 1,1-2; De ad. et am. 58e; Sept. sap. conv. 155B. Cf. also Aristotle’s distinction between εὐδαιμονία and μακαρία in EN 1, 1101a14-21. 302 The close connection between the utilitarian-egoistic and the utilitarian-altruistic aspects in this context is aptly illustrated in Pliny, epist. 1,17,4: “Redditus est L. Silano debitus honor, cuius immortalitati Capito prospexit pariter et suae. neque enim magis decorum et insigne est statuam in foro populi Romani habere quam ponere”. Capito’s utilitarian-altruistic πρᾶξις in the service of L. Silanus’ δόξα is at the same time conducive to his own immortality as well. A similar argument is found in Plutarch, Cic. 40,4. 301

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3.8. Conclusion 3.8.1. Plutarch as a polemicist: eristic strategies and anti-Epicurean polemic in De latenter vivendo Plutarch’s attempt to refute, in his short work De latenter vivendo, the well-known Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας, is based to a great extent on several eristic strategies, which were common property among the different philosophical schools of his day. In the first place, one should draw attention to Plutarch’s interpretation of the discussed maxim. Although he was probably well aware of the precise place of the exhortation λάθε βιώσας in Epicurean philosophy, he gives it a far too absolute meaning, divorcing it from its original context and understanding it for the sake of his own polemics as an advice to “seek obscurity”. Of course, this strategy makes it much easier for him to attack Epicurus’ position, but at the same time it makes his argumentation totally unconvincing for orthodox Epicureans. This throws light on the precise character of De latenter vivendo and on the intentions of its author. The work should be regarded as a rhetorical discussion of a quaestio infinita (a thesis) rather than as a theoretical treatise, and does not primarily aim at a logically cogent, differentiating, and elaborate argumentation. The persuasiveness of Plutarch’s different arguments is in the first place rooted in other, rhetorical eristic strategies, such as polemical exaggeration, based on the authority of the past (chapter 2), the allusion to widespread prejudices like that of Epicurus’ supposed vulgar hedonism (chapter 4), and the argument of consensus omnium (chapter 5). Moreover, one should not underestimate the importance of the component of insinuation. Indeed, by continuously connecting the maxim λάθε βιώσας to darkness, Plutarch tries to sow the seeds of suspicion: one could easily imagine how many perversities and dark practices (cf. chapter 4) can be concealed by the high walls of the enclosed Garden... Broadly speaking, Plutarch’s arguments fall apart into two different kinds of criticism, although it is not always possible to draw a clear line between them. Several of Plutarch’s arguments aim at internal criticism. A subtle example can be found in Plutarch’s attempt to refute Epicurus by starting (merely for the sake of his own polemics) from the presuppositions of the latter (chapter 6). The most important example, however, is the argument of inconsistency between words and deeds (chapters 1, 3, and 5), which can be traced back to the age-long practice of vehement polemics between the different philosophical schools. All of the schools indeed agreed on the importance of consistency between words and deeds, which provided a formal criterion to evaluate any programme of ethics. If one succeeded in demonstrating that the author of an ethical system disregarded his own precepts, his system was thought to be refuted. This is obviously an argument of common sense, even though from a strictly logical point of view, it is a fallacy of


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course. And one may add that the argument of inconsistency between words and deeds forms a double-edged sword, since it not only provides an interesting strategy to refute a philosophical opponent but also forms a constant threat to one’s own position. Indeed, anyone who wished to go beyond a merely negative, destructive argumentation in order to compose or defend his own (ethical) system saw these established polemical hermeneutics as the sword of Damocles hanging above his head. Other arguments in De latenter vivendo should be regarded as external criticism. This is the case with Plutarch’s argument by means of concrete counterexamples (chapters 3 and 4), which can also be traced back to a long anti-Epicurean tradition, and with the emphasis laid on Plutarch’s own programme of the ‘good life’ (chapter 4). These criticisms, which are rooted in (implicit or explicit) presuppositions of Plutarch’s own Platonism, go beyond the merely negative refutation and provide some interesting information concerning Plutarch’s own position. It is clear that both Plutarch’s internal and external criticisms are generally based on an anti-Epicurean tradition, which had been developed for several centuries. Plutarch does not slavishly imitate some previous model, however. By laying his own accents and even actively modifying the tradition towards his own polemical purposes, he more than once succeeds in renewing previous anti-Epicurean arguments. 3.8.2. Plutarch’s own position as presented in De latenter vivendo a) After the introductory chapter, Plutarch tries to refute in the first great section of De latenter vivendo the maxim λάθε βιώσας with some ethical arguments. The essential scheme which forms the basis of his first argument (chapter 2) is very simple: κακία → θεραπεία → ἀρετή This quite evident scheme was no doubt common property among all the philosophical schools of Plutarch’s day (including Epicureanism) and reflects their prime concern with the domain of ethics, which had the concrete, practical purpose of curing all vices through a well-developed therapeutic method of Seelenheilung. This basic scheme Plutarch applies to the specific context of his own polemic: κακία → γνῶσις303 → θεραπεία → ἀρετή The emphasis which is laid on the element of γνῶσις as a necessary condition of each θεραπεία (cf. the utilitarian-egoistic aspect of “being known”) can be traced back to a long tradition, to be sure, but its specific function in this context is surely alien to the traditional attacks on Epicurus’ maxim λάθε Both here and in what follows, the term γνῶσις is always used in its passive sense of “being known”. The term ἄγνοια, too, should always be given its passive meaning. 303

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βιώσας. Indeed, it is only by divorcing the maxim from its original context and interpreting it too broadly and absolutely as an exhortation to seek obscurity, that Plutarch can oppose the Epicurean doctrine to the traditional scheme. The Epicureans then become those who conceal their mental disorders; in Plutarch’s perspective, they appear to adopt the schematic position: κακία → ἄγνοια → ἀθεραπεία Plutarch’s general discussion of the treatment of vice is balanced by some considerations about virtue (chapters 3 and 4). Here as well, his arguments fundamentally rest on a fairly simple basis: ἀρετή → πρᾶξις → χρεία Contrary to Plutarch’s previous argument concerning moral vice, this close connection between virtue, (socio-political) action, and usefulness is not accepted in all philosophical schools, for the direct link between virtue and socio-political commitment, characteristic of the Academic-Peripatetic tradition to which Plutarch belongs, is diametrically opposed to the orthodox Epicurean thinking in which the maxim λάθε βιώσας is rooted. In this basic scheme too, Plutarch explicitly introduces the element of γνῶσις304: ἀρετή → γνῶσις → πρᾶξις → χρεία The focus on the element of γνῶσις in this context is unnecessary and in a certain sense even pernicious to Plutarch’s argument. Indeed, whereas the Academic-Peripatetic point of view may at least provide a meaningful external criticism of the orthodox Epicurean position towards socio-political commitment, the introduction of the aspect of γνῶσις considerably weakens this traditional argument, concentrating on an aspect which an orthodox Epicurean will regard as entirely irrelevant. If Plutarch even in this case persists in his broad interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας, he saves the unity of his argument at the cost of its correctness. The Epicurean position can be described in Plutarch’s view by means of the scheme: ἀρετή → ἄγνοια → ἀχρηστία Plutarch thus insists that virtue should necessarily translate itself into action. The question remains then: what should be concretely understood by the element of πρᾶξις? It is clear that Plutarch still believes in the community life of a πόλις. A philosopher should engage in the political life of his πόλις, in obedience to law (νόμος) and justice (δίκη), and, of course, in conformity with his own philosophical tenets (cf. the importance of consistency). He should not overlook religion, the indispensable conditio sine qua non of each community, and should not (primarily) strive for what is useful but focus on what is honourable (chapter 4). Such honourable actions are the For its place in the scheme, see De lat. viv. 1129C: ... οὕτως ἡ γνῶσις οὐ μόνον δόξαν ἀλλὰ καὶ πρᾶξιν ταῖς ἀρεταῖς δίδωσιν. 304


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ideal breeding ground for fame. In this context, the element of δόξα, which also belonged to the anti-Epicurean tradition and which Plutarch used already in the first chapter in the context of a vehement attack on Epicurus’ (supposed) inconsistency, receives a prominent place. Fame, being an evident consequence of a virtue which is made known, and πρᾶξις now appear as complementary entities. Even if the philosopher should in the first place concentrate his efforts on what is honourable (τὸ καλόν), he will not fail to make himself useful too. Indeed, the political actions of the public-spirited philosopher will serve both the public interest (utilitarian-altruistic aspect) and his own human selfrealisation (utilitarian-egoistic aspect), and will moreover provide a commendable παράδειγμα which can serve well in the ethic-psychagogic system (utilitarian-altruistic aspect):

χρεία:

→ utilitarian-egoistic: – human self-realisation → utilitarian-altruistic: – great accomplishments in the

service of the public interest – good example as incentive for others to virtuous actions

b) Plutarch’s argument in the fifth chapter introduces the second main part of De latenter vivendo. The connection between κακία and θεραπεία now completely fades into the background and almost all attention is focused on a more elaborate argumentation on the foundations of Plutarch’s own conception of virtue. More concretely, Plutarch tries to demonstrate why virtue should indeed be attended by both γνῶσις and πρᾶξις. Is the link between ἀρετή and γνῶσις/πρᾶξις, diametrically opposed to Plutarch’s interpretation of the maxim λάθε βιώσας, as evident as Plutarch would have us believe? In that sense, the second part of De latenter vivendo presents a defence of the position of Plutarch’s own school against Epicureanism, although one should place this positive defence within the framework of the merely negative antiEpicurean polemic, which still continues to be the first and most important purpose. Plutarch’s discussion in this second main part contains arguments on different levels and has a cumulative structure305: [α] argument from everyday life (chapter 5): “One can observe how everyone turns to work by day”. Contrary to the ‘Epicurean’ link between ἀρετή and ἄγνοια, Plutarch’s close connection between virtue and γνῶσις/πρᾶξις thus proves in line with the daily customs which are shared by everyone. [β] physico-anthropological argument (chapter 5; cf. already chapter 4): “Human beings are social by nature”. This argument provides both a more fundamental explanation of the previous argument from everyday life and further evidence in favour of the close connection between virtue and γνῶσις/ See also A. Barigazzi (1990), 48 on the structure of De lat. viv.: “Come si vede, la disposizione della materia è pensata e lo svolgimento è unitario: da argomenti più leggeri si passa ad argomenti sempre più profondi”; cf. also R. Feldmeier (2000), 86 and 89. 305

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πρᾶξις. The socio-political commitment of the virtuous is not only in perfect harmony with the daily customs, but also with human nature. Contrary to Epicurus, whose pessimistic anthropology of man as an asocial individual led to the maxim λάθε βιώσας, Plutarch thus turns out to regard man as a social and political animal (ζῷον πολιτικὸν καὶ κοινωνικόν), intended by nature to live in the community of a πόλις. [γ] ontological argument (chapter 6): “the ontological link between being and being known”. This argument further clarifies the social nature of human beings and at the same time once again illustrates the close connection between virtue and γνῶσις/πρᾶξις. The attitude of the virtuous man, which consists in accomplishing honourable πράξεις and making himself known, fundamentally implies a confirmation of being, whereas Epicurus’ option to seek an ‘unnoticed life’ indicates a depreciation of life and a rejection of being. [δ] theological argument (chapter 6; cf. already chapter 4): “life is given to man by God in order to make him known”. The ontological connection between being and being known thus appears to be rooted in God’s own design. At the same time, Plutarch presents his most fundamental argument in favour of the connection between virtue and γνῶσις/πρᾶξις. Life is certainly worth living and should not be concealed (cf. also chapter 2) but is given by God εἰς γνῶσιν. In consequence, the virtuous man who makes himself known through his actions realises both God’s will and his own human finality. In the seventh chapter, Plutarch presents a final argument in favour of the connection between virtue and γνῶσις/πρᾶξις306, by emphasising once more the usefulness of socio-political commitment, now in an eschatological perspective. He thus shows that the scope of both his utilitarian-egoistic and his utilitarian-altruistic argumentation is not only limited to the concrete hic et nunc, but is valid for the afterlife as well. With this eschatological argument, Plutarch does not enter an even more fundamental level, but rather draws the conclusion from the previous theological argument: the man who has lived in the hic et nunc in conformity with the will of God and of nature will be rewarded in the afterlife. 306 According to E. Bignone (1973), II, 241, Plutarch proposes in the seventh chapter of De lat. viv. a final argument in favour of his doctrine concerning man’s natural love of fame and light: “Ivi infatti Plutarco, sempre polemizzando contro Epicuro, osserva che di questo amore naturale della fama e della luce è prova la sede dei beati che vivono in regioni di luce perenne,...”. This interpretation also conditions his reconstruction of the text (see commentary ad loc.). Cf. also H.D. Betz (1990), 138: “He turns to the experience of [the] soul (1130B), agreeing with “some philosophers” who hold that in substance the soul is light (φῶς). As proofs for this he uses the present and the eschatological experiences of the soul”. But if these interpretations would hold true, the traditional topos of the rewards of the good and the punishments of the wicked, which is also discussed in chapter 7, would have faded into the background.

κακία → γνῶσις → θεραπεία → ἀρετή → γνῶσις → (πρᾶξις ↔ δόξα) → χρεία

↓

argument from everyday life:

↓

physico-anthropological argument:

↓

ontological argument:

↓

theological argument:

utilitarian-egoistic:

utilitarian-altruistic:

→

→

great accomplishments in the service of the public interest good example as part of the θεραπεία of vice and as incentive for others to virtuous actions contribution to the blessedness of the dead

-

-

reward in the afterlife

-

self-realisation in the hic et nunc

-

“everyone turns to work by day”

“human beings are social by nature”

“the link between being and being known”

“life is given by God to man in order to make him known”

Plutarch’s de latenter vivendo 179

3.8.3. Plutarch’s philosophical position in De latenter vivendo: a schematic survey

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3.9. Schematic structure of De latenter vivendo Chapter 1 (1128A-C): Inconsistency between Epicurus’ words and deeds I:

thesis: inconsistency between Epicurus’ words and deeds

II: a) perspective is narrowed: the inconsistency is the direct consequence of formulating the maxim λάθε βιώσας itself

b) further elaboration: this makes the inconsistency even greater

I': thesis: such inconsistency is blameworthy II': further elaboration of II: – first comparison with application

– second comparison with application

III: argument in favour of II:

the inconsistency appears from the fact that the maxim was written down and published by Epicurus

Chapters 2-3 (1128C-1129A): The ethical arguments I:

the traditional argument of the devaluation of life in Epicureanism

II: transition towards the ethical perspective III: the dichotomy: εἴτε ἀρετὴν ἔχεις, μὴ γένῃ ἄχρηστος (b), εἴτε κακίαν, μὴ μείνῃς ἀθεράπευτος (a)

a) further elaboration of the second pole of the dichotomy

1) negative attitude in Epicureanism: concealment of one’s own vices (with comparison taken from the domain of medicine)

2) Plutarch’s positive alternative: submitting one’s own vices to public inspection (with comparison taken from the domain of medicine)

1') conclusion: if one conceals one’s mental disorders, one’s situ ation will only deteriorate


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b) further elaboration of the first pole of the dichotomy

1) five counterexamples illustrating constructive engagement in the service of the public interest

2) digression: Epicurus’ inconsistency

1') conclusion: the pernicious consequences of the maxim λάθε βιώσας

Chapter 4 (1129A-D): Epicurus’ egoistic hedonism versus Plutarch’s social commitment I:

attack on Epicurus’ supposed hedonism

II: constructive alternative to Epicurean hedonism: Plutarch’s own programme of the ‘good life’ III: the possibilities inherent in Plutarch’s basic programme:

a) the virtuous man should be a παράδειγμα καλόν (combination of the ethical-pedagogical and the utilitarian-altruistic aspects)

b) the virtuous man is important for the public interest (the utilitarian-altruistic aspect in its broader sense)

c) further elaboration of the utilitarian-altruistic aspect through a discussion of the relation between γνῶσις/δόξα and πρᾶξις

d) summarising conclusion (combination of the utilitarian-egoistic and the utilitarian-altruistic aspect) and transition

Chapter 5 (1129DE): Man as a social being I:

the effects which night has on man: inactivity - of the body - of the soul - of reason

II: the effects which day has on man: activity of both body and soul, blended into one harmonious whole

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Chapter 6 (1129E-1130C): the ontological foundations: the connection between being and being known I: theological, finalistic thesis: life and being are given by God εἰς γνῶσιν II: first transition: ontological, atomistic argument:

a) γένεσις should be regarded as a ὁδὸς οὐσίας εἰς γνῶσιν

b) this sheds light upon Apollo’s epithets Δήλιος and Πύθιος and upon the name of Hades

III: second transition: the importance of light

a) the etymological explanation of the traditional term φώς

b) the conviction of some philosophers that the soul is in its substance light

IV: conclusion: the maxim λάθε βιώσας, which aims at μὴ γινώσκεσθαι, implies a rejection of one’s own being Chapter 7 (1130C-E): an eschatological perspective I:

description of the ultimate destiny of the good: blessedness

II: description of the ultimate destiny of the wicked:

a) their punishment: ἄγνοια and λήθη

b) argument in favour of the specific character of this punishment

a') their punishment once again: ἀδοξία, ἄγνοια καὶ ἀφανισμός

Commentary

Chapter 1 (1128A-C): inconsistency between Epicurus’ words and deeds Epicurus proves to be inconsistent and unfair. He formulated his advice to ‘live unnoticed’ in order to make fame unattractive for others and thus secure it for himself. For why did he say this and write it down if he really wished to remain unknown? 1128A ἀλλ’ οὐδέ: The abrupt opening should be understood in connection with the question of the title and from the very beginning illustrates the rhetorical character of the little work, as was rightly argued by A. Barigazzi (1990), 51; cf. also I. Gallo (1996a), 932-933; Id. (2000), 11 and 12-13. A similar opening can be found in De esu 993A (with A. Barigazzi (1992), 303 and 314, n. 10). One may add that the combination of ἀλλ’ οὐδέ at the beginning of a reply is fairly common in Plutarch; see, e.g., Sept. sap. conv. 154C and 155F; Apophth. Lac. 211A; De sera num. 548B; De genio Socr. 578A; Quaest. conv. 726B; cf. also Reg. et imp. apophth. 180F. ὁ τοῦτο εἰπών: sc. Epicurus (fr. 551 Us.), whose name occurs only in chapter 3 (1128F), where he is directly addressed. For the significance of Plutarch’s choice of this vague paraphrase instead of Epicurus’ proper name, see supra, 3.2.1b. 1128B δόξαν ἄδικον: Wyttenbach’s conjecture δόξαν ἄδοξον, defended by J.J. Hartman (1916), 610, is discerning but unnecessary. The term ἄδικον fits in very well with the sharp formulation of the argument from inconsistency and helps to disqualify Epicurus from a moral point of view. μισῶ σοφιστὴν ... σοφός: a fragment from an unknown play of Euripides (TrGF 5.2, fr. 905). Parallels from other authors (Cicero, fam. 13,15,2; off. 3,62; Lucian, Apol. 5) show that the verse had become part of the general culture. It even found its way into the Monostichae Menandri (457 Jäkel). Plato already considers the idea to be common knowledge; cf. Hp. Ma. 283b: καὶ πολλοῖς συνδοκεῖ ὅτι τὸν σοφὸν αὐτὸν αὑτῷ μάλιστα δεῖ σοφὸν εἶναι. Plutarch himself quotes the verse also in Alex. 53,2, where he claims that Alexander himself used it to evaluate the conduct of Callisthenes. τοὺς μὲν γὰρ περὶ ... τὸν Σικελιώτην: The phrase τοὺς περὶ Φιλόξενον καὶ Γνάθωνα may refer either [1] to Philoxenus and Gnathon, or [2] to Philoxenus, Gnathon, and their followers, or [3] to their followers alone (cf. Terentius, Eun. 264). The first meaning seems to be the most common one in Plutarch; cf. L. Torraca (1998), 3489-3494.

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Already in Antiquity, much confusion has arisen about the identity of different Philoxeni. Many authors, including Plutarch, confuse Philoxenus of Cythera (who was the son of Eulytidas according to the Suda IV, 728.27) and Philoxenus of Leucas (see S.-T. Teodorsson (1990), 82 on Plutarch, and J. Wilkins (2000), 345-347 more in general). Philoxenus the son of Eryxis may be identified with Philoxenus of Leucas (thus F. Wehrli (1969b), 66), but may equally be a different person. However that may be, Philoxenus the son of Eryxis appears to have been especially famous for his gluttony; see Plutarch, Quaest. conv. 668C (φιλοψότατος; S.-T. Teodorsson (1990), 82-83) and fr. 134 Sandbach (ὀψοφάγος); and also Aristotle, EE 3, 1231a15-17; EN 3, 1118a32-33; Pr. 28, 950a3-4; Athenaeus, 1, 6b and 5, 220bc; Aelian, VH 10,8 (Φιλόξενος λίχνος ἦν καὶ γαστρὸς ἥττων). Gnathon, who appears in the Corpus Plutarcheum mainly as another notorious gourmand (cf. Quaest. conv. 707E: δεινότατος ἀνθρώπων τἀλλότρια δειπνεῖν; S.-T. Teodorsson (1996), 89-90) is the classic example of the parasite. He appears e.g. in Menander’s Colax – a play with which Plutarch was probably familiar, cf. De ad. et am. 57a – and in Terentius’ Eunuchus). Cf. also Longus, 4,10, where Gnathon is the parasite of Astylus; he is described as: οἷα μαθὼν ἐσθίειν ἄνθρωπος καὶ πίνειν εἰς μέθην καὶ λαγνεύειν μετὰ τὴν μέθην καὶ οὐδὲν ἀλλὸ ὢν ἢ γνάθος καὶ γαστὴρ καὶ τὰ ὑπὸ γαστέρα (4,11). Philoxenus also seems to have combined parasitism and gluttony; cf. Athenaeus, 6, 241e: ἦν δὲ καὶ ὁ Φιλόξενος τῶν παρασίτων. ἐπτοημένους περὶ τὰ ὄψα: The Greek dish usually contained three elements: σῖτος or ἄρτος (bread), ὄψον (any cooked or prepared food that is eaten with bread), and ποτόν (usually wine, even though Plutarch was fairly suspicious of the use of wine and advocated moderation; see e.g. S.-T. Teodorsson (1999) and A.G. Nikolaidis (1999b) on this topic). On the precise meaning of ὄψον, see esp. J. Davidson (1995), 205-207. ἐναπομύττεσθαι ταῖς παροψίσιν: “Die Geschichte, die Plutarch hier auftischt, ist trotz des Hinweises auf die Überlieferung (“Man erzählt sich”) in dieser Form nicht nachzuweisen”; see thus B. Heininger (2000a), 62. One might detect a trace of the same story, however, in the Suda IV, 729.11-16: Φιλόξενος, Λευκαδίου. ὄνομα παρασίτου. τοῦτόν φασιν προλουόμενον ἐν τῇ πατρίδι κἀν ἄλλαις πόλεσι περιέρχεσθαι τὰς οἰκίας, ἀκολουθούντων αὐτῷ παίδων, φερόντων ἔλαιον, γάρον, ὄξος καὶ ἄλλα τῶν ἡδυσμάτων. εἰσιόντα δὲ εἰς τὰς ἀλλοτρίας οἰκίας τὰ ἑψόμενα τοῖς ἄλλοις ἀρτύειν, ἐμβάλλοντα ὧν ἦν χρεία, κᾆθ’ οὕτως [εἰς ἑαυτὸν] κύψαντα εὐωχεῖσθαι; cf. Athenaeus, 1, 5f-6a (= Clearchus, fr. 57 Wehrli). The last words of this text, and especially the meaning of the aorist participle κύψαντα, have aroused much discussion. M.L. Gambato (2001), I, 19-20 prefers the reading ἀνακάμψαντα, preserved in the Epitome of the first book of Athenaeus’ Deipnosophists, and interprets it as an ironic allusion to Peripatetic walking. In a recent article, K. Bartol (2004) defends the reading κύψαντα and argues that Philoxenus imitated the preliminary position of a wrestler as a kind of sym-

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potic entertainment, before attacking the meal. In my view, the participle κύψαντα may allude to the strategy of ἐναπομύττεσθαι ταῖς παροψίσιν mentioned by Plutarch. It may well refer to Philoxenus’ action of bending over so as to blow his nose on the dishes. See G. Roskam (2006b) for further arguments. κατακόρως: The term recalls the immediately preceding imagery of eating. διαβάλλουσιν ἑτέροις ... ἀνανταγωνίστως: Plutarch here connects the traditional attack against Epicurus’ unjustified pursuit of fame (mentioned in Non posse 1100AB) with the specific subject matter of his work; cf. supra, 3.2.3a. That Plutarch strongly condemns a behaviour like that of the ἀκράτως φιλόδοξοι also appears from passages such as De Stoic. rep. 1047C: δοκῶ δὴ τὸ ἐγκαλεῖν ἑτέροις εἶτα περιπίπτειν αὐτὸν οἷς ἐγκαλεῖ καὶ μὴ φυλάττεσθαι τῶν ἐναντιωμάτων μέγιστον εἶναι καὶ τῶν διαπτωμάτων αἴσχιστον, and Adv. Colot. 1125F: τὸ δὲ ἐγκαλεῖν ἑτέροις ἅπερ αὐτοὶ πράττουσι πῶς ἄν τις εἴποι φειδόμενος τῶν ἀξίων ὀνομάτων. With ἵνα τυγχάνωσιν αὐτῆς ἀνανταγωνίστως, compare Epictetus, 2,20,13: ἵνα σοι πάντα τηρῆται. 1128BC ταὐτὸ τοῖς ἐρέσσουσιν ποιοῦσιν: see F. Fuhrmann (1964), 49-50 for the recurrence and importance of nautical terms and imagery in Plutarch’s works. 1128C ὡς ἂν ... τὸ πορθμεῖον: Plutarch explains the movement of the ship by means of the physical-mechanical theory of antiperistasis. He discusses this Platonic theory (see Plato, Ti. 58e-59a and esp. 79a-80c; cf. also Aristotle, Ph. 4, 215a14-15 and 8, 267a15-20; Resp. 472b6-473a14), which he regards as a preferable alternative to explanations that presuppose attraction or the existence of a void, at length in Quaest. Plat. 1004D-1006B; see on this topic J. Opsomer (1999); cf. also J. Boulogne (2003), 77-80. ἐπεὶ τί λέγειν ... τοὺς ἐσομένους: That Plutarch’s argument belongs to the philosophical tradition appears from Cicero, Arch. 26, where the same criticism returns, with the same rhetorical one-sidedness: ipsi illi philosophi etiam illis libellis, quos de contemnenda gloria scribunt, nomen suum inscribunt: in eo ipso, in quo praedicationem nobilitatemque despiciunt, praedicari de se ac nominari volunt. The argument reappears almost verbatim in Tusc. 1,34: quid nostri philosophi? nonne in iis libris ipsis quos scribunt de contemnenda gloria sua nomina inscribunt? In both of these passages, however, Cicero’s argument is not exclusively directed against the Epicureans but may hold for the Stoics as well (Cleanthes, for instance, wrote a book On fame; SVF 1,481 = Diog. Laert. 7,175). Plutarch thus applies a more general paradox to the specific needs of his own polemical purpose. Basically the

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same argument can be found in Epictetus, 1,20,19: τί δὲ καὶ λύχνον ἅπτεις καὶ πονεῖς ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν καὶ τηλικαῦτα βιβλία γράφεις; and 2,20,9: τί ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν φροντίζεις, τί δι’ ἡμᾶς ἀγρυπνεῖς, τί λύχνον ἅπτεις, τί ἐπανίστασαι, τί τηλικαῦτα βιβλία συγ γράφεις;

Chapters 2-3 (1128C-1129A): The ethical arguments Plutarch from this point turns to the advice. In his view, it implies a devaluation of life itself. A man should rather take care that he does not ‘live unnoticed’. This holds true both for the virtuous and for the wicked. If the latter hide themselves, their moral condition will only deteriorate. They would do better to undergo public inspection, which could contribute to their improvement. The former, on the other hand, would be unable to benefit their fellow citizens if they followed Epicurus’ advice. Even the conduct of Epicurus himself shows that he in the end did not wish to ‘live unnoticed’. ἀλλά: Both A. Barigazzi (1990), 51 and B. Heininger (2000a), 62 place this ἀλλά on a level with that at the beginning of the work, as one more reply to the question expressed in the title. In my view, it is much more likely that the adversative ἀλλά used at the outset of the second chapter does not have the same function as that which appears at the outset, but that it expresses an opposition between the first two chapters of De lat. viv. This appears from the emphatic formula τοῦτο μὲν αὐτὸ τὸ πρᾶγμα: whereas Plutarch in the first chapter discussed the inconsistent behaviour of Epicurus, who apparently did not follow his own advice, he will now deal with the maxim λάθε βιώσας itself. αὐτὸ τὸ πρᾶγμα: sc. the advice λάθε βιώσας itself; the conjectures of Bernardakis and Reiske, adopted by M. Pohlenz (1952), 217 and F. Portalupi (1961), 11, are unnecessary; cf. A. Barigazzi (1990), 49-50; I. Gallo (1996a), 934-935; Id. (2000), 15. ὡς τυμβωρυχήσας: B. Heininger (2000a), 64 points to an interesting illustrative example in Chariton, 1,9,1-7, where the nocturnal grave-robbing of Theron is told (cf. also 5,1,1 and 8,7,7). The close link between the crime of grave-robbing and the darkness of the night also appears in other texts; see, e.g., John Chrysostom, In 1 Thes. 5,9,3 (PG 62, p. 449.32-33): ὁ τυμβωρύχος οὐχὶ πᾶσαν τὴν ἐργασίαν ἐν νυκτὶ ἔχει; Fr. in Job 38 (PG 64, p. 648.13-18); Syrianus, In Hermog. Π. Στάσ., p. 103.3-4 Rabe. ἀλλ’ αἰσχρόν ... πάντες: For the precise meaning of this argument, see introduction (supra, 3.3.1). The somewhat terse construction of the sentence is explained very well by B. Heininger (2000a), 64: “τὸ ζῆν wäre also als Objekt

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zu ἀγνοῶμεν zu verstehen. Das betonte πάντες unterstreicht den sozialen Charakter der Argumentation [...]. In dieser Richtung geht auch die erste Person Plural, die Wilamowitz zur 3. Person abändern wollte.”; cf. also I. Gallo (2000), 54. 1128D μηδὲ κακῶς βιώσας λάθε: On the term μηδέ and the turn towards the ethical perspective, see introduction (supra, 3.3.2). ἀμαθεῖ καὶ πονηρῷ καὶ ἀγνώμονι: The fact that Plutarch elsewhere regards the Epicurean position as foolish (Adv. Colot. 1115C) and wicked (1119E) may suggest that he would regulate the Epicureans here also to this category. If this were true, the rhetorical tricolon would not merely aim at literary embellishment but would also indirectly disqualify Epicurus on both moral and intellectual grounds. πυρέττων, φρενιτίζων: The discussion of ethical issues in medical terms is rooted in a long tradition, may reflect an active influence of medical theory onto the domain of ethics – cf. F. Wehrli (1951) – and often occurs in the Corpus Plutarcheum, frequently in an ethical context; cf. F. Fuhrmann (1964), 41-43 and 149-157. The imagery is also popular in Epicurean circles, not only in the works of Epicurus himself (e.g. SV 54 and 64, fr. 221, 471 and 504 Us.; it should be noted also that the first four maxims of Epicurus’ Κύριαι δόξαι were called τετραφάρμακος), but also in the works of Philodemus (N.W. DeWitt (1936), 210-211; M. Gigante (1969), 210-211; Id. (1975); Id. (1983), 75-78; D. Konstan (1998), 20-23), Hermarchus (ap. Porphyr., Abst. 1,12,2) and Diogenes of Oenoanda (fr. 3, v, 14 – vi, 4). That Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας has also pernicious consequences for bodily health appears from De tuenda 135B-D; A. Barigazzi (1990), 59-60; L. Senzasono (1992), 194195. κατὰ σκότους: The imagery of darkness (and of light), which occurs here for the first time in De latenter vivendo, will gradually become the most important metaphor in, and even one of the constitutive parts of, Plutarch’s argumentation. R. Westman (1955), 19 even refers to this imagery in order to characterise the whole work: “Die kleine Schrift “De latenter vivendo” schliesslich enthält Ausführungen darüber, dass der Mensch von Natur mit dem Licht verwandt ist, dass somit die epikureische Mahnung, im Verborgenen zu leben, mit ihrer Verherrlichung der Dunkelheit naturwidrig ist”. On the importance of the imagery of light and darkness in De lat. viv., see also G.M. Lattanzi (1932), 334; O. Seel (1972), 374 and 376; A. Barrigazzi (1990), passim; and R. Hirsh-Luipold (2000), 102-110; on the meaning of this traditional and popular imagery (in De prim. frig. 953B, Plutarch refers to the antithesis of light and darkness as to a πολυτίμητος ἀντίθεσις) in the whole Corpus Plutarcheum, see F. Fuhrmann (1964), 128, n. 1. Cicero, too,

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makes use of the same imagery against Epicurus in his speech Against Piso; cf. P. De Lacy (1941), 54. τοὺς φθόνους, τὰς δεισιδαιμονίας: Plutarch has dedicated separate works to both passions. He compares envy to hatred in De invidio et odio, and discusses superstition at length in De superstitione. Nevertheless, the main reason why Plutarch has selected these two passions should be sought in his polemical purpose. Epicurus formulated his advice to ‘live unnoticed’ precisely to avoid passions such as envy (cf. Philodemus, Rhet. ii, 158, fr. xix, 6-14 S. = fr. 552 Us.: εἰ γὰρ θελήσειέ τις ἅπαντ’ ἐπεξιὼν διασκοπεῖν, τί φιλίας ἐστὶν πολεμιώτατον καὶ δυσμενείας ἀπεργαστικώτατον, πολιτείαν ἂν εὕροι διά τε τὸν φθόνον τὸν πρὸς τοὺς ἀλειφομένους ἐπὶ ταῦτα), and with the very first tenet of his Κύριαι δόξαι, he intends to free his followers from all their superstitious fears. Plutarch here maliciously suggests that Epicurus’ ideal of an ‘unnoticed life’ actually works counterproductive to the cure of such passions. 1128E παρασχεῖν τοῖς νουθετεῖν καὶ ἰᾶσθαι δυναμένοις: A man can only make moral progress if he discloses his shortcomings. Exactly the same idea returns in De prof. in virt. 81f-82b; cf. G. Roskam (2005a), 295. On the fear of disclosing one’s shortcomings, see also De cap. ex inim. 89d; De cur. 518CD. οἱ δὲ σφόδρα παλαιοί: Plutarch often refers to primitive times in order to defend his own position; see, e.g., Quaest. conv. 729EF and De esu 993C994B. The closest parallel to our passage is to be found in De am. prol. 496CE, where Plutarch recalls the situation of primitive mothers in order to refute the Epicurean tenet that parental love for offspring is not natural. In both passages, the reference to the condition of primitive mankind functions as an important argumentum ex auctoritate against Epicurus’ philosophical position. The fact that the Epicureans themselves gave much attention to the early history of mankind (cf. book 5 of Lucretius, or the surviving section from Hermarchus’ Against Empedocles) of course adds an extra dimension to Plutarch’s polemical argument. τοὺς νοσοῦντας φανερῶς παρεῖχον: On this ancient custom see also Herodotus, 1,197; Strabo, 3,3,7 and 16,1,20; Maximus of Tyre, 6,2; Isidorus, orig. 10,72; Servius, Aen. 12,395. ὀργίζῃ, ζηλοτυπεῖς, ἐρᾷς: These three passions complete the two mentioned above (φθόνος and δεισιδαιμονία; 1128D). Plutarch deals with anger in De coh. ira and in his lost work Περὶ ὀργῆς; see fr. 148 Sandbach, with the discussions of G. Roskam (2003) and F. Becchi (2003). Jealousy and envy, frequently linked as a traditional pair (cf. Per. 10,6; Cor. 10,4; Pel. 4,2; Demetr. 27,3; Arat. 54,3; De ad. et am. 54c; De prof. in virt. 78E; De cap. ex inim. 91B and 91E; De am. mult. 96B; De tranq. an. 468B; De frat. am. 484C, 485E and 486B; De cur. 517F; De se ipsum laud. 540B; Amatorius 768A; De soll.

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an. 961D; Non posse 1086F; etc.), occur in many works of both Moralia (political treatises as well as ethical, and even philosophical-theoretical ones) and Lives (cf. B. Bucher-Isler (1972), 55). The negative evaluation of ἔρως appears to be at odds with Plutarch’s much more positive position in his Amatorius, but is well in line with fr. 134-138 Sandbach. That Epicurus tried to cure these passions no less than Plutarch is clear. For the Epicurean position towards anger, cf. esp. Philodemus’ treatise De ira; envy is discussed in SV 53, love in SV 51. περιστέλλοντες: ‘wrapping up’; the term is taken from the domain of burial; see R. Hirsh-Luipold (2000), 112, with n. 53, who offers several interesting parallels. By means of this term, Plutarch for the second time in his little work makes use of the imagery of death and burial; cf. τυμβωρυχήσας above (1128C), and further κενοταφῶν (1130B) and the entire chapter 7. ἐμβαθύνουσι τὴν κακίαν ἑαυτοῖς: As far as wickedness is concerned, continuity shows its powers in a negative way. Plutarch elsewhere underlines that there is no stationary position in the field of moral progress, the implication, of course, being that a man who does not improve immediately becomes more wicked (De prof. in virt. 76DE). One begins by neglecting trivial faults, but soon becomes careless about more significant shortcomings as well (cf. 85E-86A, with G. Roskam (2005a), 343-350). 1128F ’Επαμεινώνδᾳ ... μὴ στρατήγει: Epameinondas († Mantinea, 362 B.C.), the famous Theban general who defeated the Spartans at Leuctra and thus for a while gave a leading position to Thebes, was one of Plutarch’s great heroes. It was probably no coincidence that the Life of Epameinondas, which unfortunately has been lost, inaugurated the whole series of Parallel Lives (cf. K. Ziegler (1951), 897). It is interesting to note that Plutarch often refers to the Theban general in his anti-Epicurean polemics. In Non posse 1098AB, he recalls Epameinondas’ famous saying that his greatest good fortune was his parents’ living to see his generalship and victory at Leuctra (cf. also Reg. et imp. apophth. 193A; An seni 786D and Cor. 4,3) in order to show that the delight gained through such honourable achievements far surpasses the vulgar pleasures pursued by Epicurus (cf. also 1098A). Somewhat further on in the same work, Plutarch argues that men of action (among whom Epameinondas was one) also enjoyed corporeal pleasures, but that they regarded them as trivial, being preoccupied with greater ones (1099BC). When Epameinondas is mentioned in the final section of Adversus Colotem, the emphasis is not on the insignificant value of Epicurus’ doctrine of pleasure but on his apolitical philosophy. Plutarch takes offence at Epicurus’ attack on famous statesmen and points to the Epicurean criticism of Epameinondas (1127AB). This passage may show that Plutarch’s claim in our passage is basically justified and that the maxim

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λάθε βιώσας may indeed be concretised in Epameinondas’ particular case as an advice to avoid being στρατηγός. The term στρατηγεῖν no doubt aptly refers to one of the most important aspects of Epameinondas’ career. Plutarch often points to the great military talents of the Theban general (Pel. 26,1: μήτε ὅπου πάρεστιν ’Επαμεινώνδας ἑτέρου δεῖσθαι στρατηγοῦ νομίζων; cf. also An seni 797A and Ages. 27,4), but praised him no less for his moral behaviour; cf. L. Peper (1912), 50-57. Λυκούργῳ, μὴ νομοθέτει: Just like Epameinondas, Lycurgus, the legendary lawgiver who was regarded in Antiquity as the founder of the Spartan constitution, was one of the great heroes of Plutarch. He is more than once introduced as a precursor of Plato (Quaest. conv. 719A and Lyc. 31,2) and is praised for having turned Sparta into a whole πόλις φιλοσοφοῦσα (Lyc. 31,2). The great Spartan lawgiver played no less a part in Plutarch’s anti-Epicurean polemics than the famous Theban general. In Non posse 1103A, Plutarch argues that Epicurus derived far less pleasure from his sick friends than Lycurgus from being loved by the gods (cf. also 1098A), and in Adv. Colot. 1125D he refers, among other examples, to Lycurgus’ laws in order to prove that the legislation which Colotes praises actually favours our belief in the gods. Near the end of Adv. Colot., finally, he quotes Metrodorus’ vehement criticism of some philosophers who try to imitate Lycurgus and Solon (1127B = fr. 31 K.) and erroneously interprets it as an attack against the great legislators themselves (cf. R. Westman (1955), 213-214). In Plutarch’s view, Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ would in Lycurgus’ case amount to the advice of μὴ νομοθέτει. Such a claim, however, is far less correct than the previous one about Epameinondas. The above mentioned passage from Metrodorus shows that the Epicureans attacked philosophers who later tried to follow the example of earlier legislators. Their efforts are for the greatest part unnecessary, since the existing legislation now sufficiently guarantees the personal security of the citizens. In more primitive times, however, the situation is entirely different. The advice to ‘live unnoticed’ was not even relevant then, because it would have had pernicious consequences. Primitive men rather had to live together in order to protect themselves against the threat of the beasts or of wicked men (cf. G. Roskam (2007), 78-79 and supra, 1.4.2). At that time, the most gifted men, who had a keen eye for what was useful, precisely became legislators (cf. Porphyry, Abst. 1,8,2 and 1,10,2 = Hermarchus, fr. 34 L.A.), and men like Lycurgus actually did a very good job, since they benefited both themselves and their community. Θρασυβούλῳ, μὴ τυραννοκτόνει: The Athenian democratic politician and commander Thrasybulus became famous for his leading role in overthrowing the regime of the Thirty. Cf. Nepos, Thras. 1,2: quod multi voluerunt paucique potuerunt ab uno tyranno patriam liberare, huic contigit ut a triginta oppressam tyrannis e servitute in libertatem vindicaret; more details in Ar-

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istotle, Ath. 37-38; Xenophon, HG 2,4,2-43; Diodorus Siculus 14,32,1-33,6; Iustinus 5,9,1-11. Plutarch himself alludes to the event in Lys. 27,2-4 and Bellone an pace 345D; 349DE and 349F. Plato already criticised tyranny at the end of book 8 and at the beginning of book 9 of his Republic and the Academy counted various tyrannicides among its members. Most famous among them is, of course, Dion, but Python and Heraclides of Aenus also gained great renown by killing the tyrant Cotys (Adv. Colot. 1126C; cf. Demosthenes, 23,119 and 163; Aristotle, Pol. 5, 1311b20-21; Philodemus, Hist. Acad. col. vi, 15-20 Dor.; Philostratus, VA 7,2; detailed discussions can be found in A. Wörle (1981), 155159 and K. Trampedach (1994), 90-92), and some generations later, Ecdemus (or Ecdelus) and Megalophanes of Megalopolis killed the tyrant Aristodemus in their native city (Phil. 1,3; cf. also Polybius, 10,22,2, obviously Plutarch’s source) and supported Aratus in expelling Nicocles, the tyrant of Sicyon (Phil. 1,3; Arat. 4,1-9,2; Polybius, 10,22,3). In line with this tradition, Plutarch often explicitly or indirectly expresses his aversion to tyranny; see, e.g., De Al. Magn. fort. 334A; De sera num. 552F-553A (cruel tyrants can still function as a tool for the divine) and 562CD; An seni 783D; De unius 826F-827A; more references and brief discussions can be found in H. Weber (1959), 35-36; G.J.D. Aalders (1982), 34-35; E. Teixeira (1988). Furthermore, he more than once approves of tyrannicide as a brilliant and praiseworthy accomplishment; see, e.g., Pel. 35,7; Comp. Pel. et Marc. 1,3; De se ipsum laud. 542EF; De Her. mal. 856AB; cf. also Praec. ger. reip. 817EF (on the more general rule that one may break the law in cases of necessity or for the sake of what is honourable; see G. Roskam (2005d) for the broader context of this passage) and Ps.-Plutarch, De fato 570D, where τυραννοκτονῆσαι is linked to ἀριστεῦσαι and κατορθῶσαι. A good discussion of Plutarch’s position can be found in A.G. Nikolaidis (1995), 307-308. Epicurus would defend a radically different position. Plutarch is basically right that his advice to ‘live unnoticed’ would also imply the advice of μὴ τυραννοκτόνει. D.P. Fowler (1989), 128 suggested that the Epicurean may abandon his sequestered life for a while in order to kill a tyrant, but in my view, it is much more likely that he would either adapt himself to the circumstances (which, after all, may in his case require no great difficulties) or leave the country in order to enjoy his pleasures elsewhere; cf. supra, 1.4.3. Πυθαγόρᾳ, μὴ παίδευε: The importance which Pythagoras attached to παιδεία appears, for instance, from Stobaeus, 3,19,8: μεγάλην παιδείαν νόμιζε, δι’ ἧς δυνήσῃ φέρειν ἀπαιδευσίαν. The pedagogical qualities of Pythagoras and his importance as a teacher were often underlined in Antiquity. Plato, for instance, regards him (together with Homer) as a ἡγεμὼν παιδείας (R. 10, 600ab); cf. Proclus, in R., I, p. 200.21-22 K.; in Euc. prol. 2, p. 65.15-17; further interesting material can be found in B. Heininger (2000a), 66.

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Plutarch more than once deals with the question of whether Pythagoras should be regarded as the teacher of Numa (Num. 1,1-3 and 8,4-10; Aem. 2,1), and in view of the many resemblances between the precepts and doctrines of Pythagoras and those of Numa (cf. Num. 11,1-2; 14,2-3; 22,2-3), he is rather inclined to believe in the close relationship between the Greek philosopher and the Roman king (Num. 22,4). He also refers to Pythagoras’ association with the leading men of the Italians (Maxime cum principibus 777A). Plutarch’s conception of Pythagoras’ teaching contains two components. On the one hand, Pythagoras is often quoted as the author of famous symbolic precepts, which are even regarded as the most typical aspect of his philosophical instruction (fr. 202 Sandbach). On the other hand, he is introduced as the precursor of Plato himself, anticipating many of his fundamental physical and ethical doctrines; see F. Becchi (2004), 95-97, and his general observation on p. 91-92: “Cosí Plutarco se da un lato inserisce il filosofo di Samo in una tradizione di antica sapienza ellenica anteriore alla nascita del razionalismo e, di conseguenza, essenzialmente prescientifica, dall’altro lo presenta come l’iniziatore di una παιδεία filosofica, basata sulla ricerca della verità, con cui per la prima volta nella storia dell’uomo sembra comparire l’essenza”. Pythagoras’ name occurs more than once in Plutarch’s anti-Epicurean polemics. When he emphasises in Non posse the pleasures that come from mathematics – one of the traditional disciplines rejected by Epicurus – he recalls how Pythagoras sacrificed an ox after he discovered his famous theorem (1094B), and near the end of the same work, he argues that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul which was defended by Pythagoras, Plato, and Homer entails much greater pleasures for the good men than Epicurus’ view of death as a disintegration into atoms (1105E). At the beginning of Non posse, finally, Plutarch refers to the Epicureans’ abusive criticism of Pythagoras (cf. also Cicero, nat. deor. 1,93). That Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ does not imply a complete rejection of all teaching activities is obvious of course. The Epicurean sage can found a school, provided he does not aim at a large audience (Diog. Laert. 10,120 = fr. 564 Us.). Tenets such as these may throw additional light on the precise scope of Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας. This maxim indeed does not recommend total obscurity with all the consequences this would imply, but makes its influence felt in the crucial proviso οὐχ ὥστ’ ὀχλαγωγῆσαι. If the Epicurean omits excessive ambition, his decision to found a school and educate people remains in line with his ideal to ‘live unnoticed’. Σωκράτει, μὴ διαλέγου: Plutarch no doubt considered Socrates to be one of his greatest philosophical predecessors. He mentions how he celebrated Socrates’ birthday on the sixth of Thargelion (Quaest. conv. 717B), he argues that Socrates “was the first to show that life at all times and in all parts, in all

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experiences and activities, universally admits philosophy” (An seni 796E; transl. H.N. Fowler), and adds that he even continued to converse with friends while being in prison (De tranq. an. 466E: Σωκράτης μὲν ἐν δεσμωτηρίῳ φιλοσοφῶν διελέγετο τοῖς ἑταίροις). J.P. Hershbell (1988), 380 suggests that Plutarch may have regarded himself as Socrates’ successor. The verb διαλέγεσθαι recalls the well-known dialectical process of question and answer, of refuting and being refuted (Plato, Grg. 462a), and refers to the most appropriate way of examining the truth (cf. R. 7, 539c: τὸν δὲ διαλέγεσθαι ἐθέλοντα καὶ σκοπεῖν τἀληθές). In Plutarch’s view, such a dialectical approach is especially important at the highest level of the educational process, when the students are stimulated to develop their own innate conceptions (cf. Quaest. Plat. 1000E); see in general G. Roskam (2004b), 103104 (see also 108 on Socrates as an ideal teacher in the Corpus Plutarcheum). Plutarch is no doubt right in claiming that Epicurus would advise Socrates not to converse, but he is wrong to connect such advice with the maxim λάθε βιώσας. The Epicureans rejected the dialectical method (Cicero, fin. 2,18: dialecticam [...] contemnit Epicurus; cf. also 2,17) and they had many reasons to criticise Socrates (see esp. M.T. Riley (1980) and K. Kleve (1983); cf. also P.A. Vander Waerdt (1989), 253-259 and J. Opsomer (1998), 84105). Colotes, for instance, argued that Socrates’ arguments were charlatans and insisted that what he argued in his dialogues was inconsistent with his own behaviour (Adv. Colot. 1117D: ἀλλὰ γὰρ ἀλαζόνας ἐπετήδευσας λόγους, ὦ Σώκρατες· καὶ ἕτερα μὲν διελέγου τοῖς ἐντυγχάνουσιν, ἕτερα δὲ ἔπραττες). It is clear then, that if Epicurean philosophy indeed implied a rejection of Socrates’ διαλέγεσθαι, this rejection had nothing to do with the maxim λάθε βιώσας. The Epicurean ideal of an ‘unnoticed life’ did not preclude conversation among like-minded friends, for instance, and Plutarch himself perfectly knew that Epicurus in his Symposium introduced Polyaenus as one of the interlocutors in a philosophical dialogue (Adv. Colot. 1109E = fr. 58 Us.). ’Επίκουρε: I. Gallo (2000), 55 rightly remarks that Epicurus is here mentioned for the first and last time in the whole work. The rhetorical apostrophè may be understood as a direct consequence of the following inconsistency argument: Epicurus’ name can be mentioned since in Plutarch’s view, he himself proves to reject his own advice to ‘live unnoticed’. μὴ γράφε τοῖς ἐν ’Ασίᾳ φίλοις: (= fr. 107 Us.) It is well-known that Epicurus began to teach philosophy in Mytilene and then moved to Lampsacus on the Hellespont. When he later migrated to Athens, he remained in touch with his friends in Asia Minor by means of a lively correspondence. In later periods, Epicureanism continued to be important in Asia Minor, as appears, for instance, from the career of Philonides (who probably studied in Ephesus), from inscriptions in honour of Epicureans (see, e.g., TAM 2.2, 910), and, of course, from Diogenes’ inscription in Oenoanda. Cf. also the presence of

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Epicureans at Rhodes and Cos (M. Erler (1994b), 283-286) and even in Syria (see M.F. Smith (1996) for an overview). μηδὲ τοὺς ἀπ’ Αἰγύπτου ξενολόγει: (= fr. 106 Us.) Nothing is known of Epicurus’ own attempts to recruit followers in Egypt. Colotes, however, dedicated his work to king Ptolemy II (Adv. Colot. 1107E; W. Crönert (1906), 13; R. Westman (1955), 41). Diogenes Laertius knows of two Ptolemaei of Alexandria who endorsed Epicureanism (10,25) and we also have two papyri which illustrate the presence of Epicureanism in Egypt: POxy. 215 (= CPF 1**, 51, 11; about the Epicurean position towards participation in popular religious rites) and PGettyMus acc. 76.AI.27 (= CPF 1*, 5; the most recent edition is that of R. Otranto (2000), 18; containing information about the exchange of some books of Epicurus and Metrodorus). It is interesting to note in this context that the former is explicitly addressed to non-Epicurean readers; see D. Obbink (1984), 618-619. 1129A μηδὲ τοὺς Λαμψακηνῶν ἐφήβους δορυφόρει: The warm friendship between the Garden in Athens and the community in Lampsacus is well-known. Epicurus wrote letters to the friends in Lampsacus (fr. 108-110 Us.) and to several individual members of the community, such as Idomeneus (fr. 128138 Us.), Leonteus’ wife Themista (fr. 125-127 Us.), and Colotes (fr. 140142 Us.). Far less clear, however, is the precise meaning of Plutarch’s phrase τοὺς ἐφήβους δορυφόρει. B. Heininger (2000a), 66-67 rightly remarks that the verb δορυφορέω is a technical term belonging to the military sphere: “to attend as a body-guard” (LSJ, s.v.). But its relevance in the context of ephebic training is puzzling, to say the least. Heininger tries to solve the problem by pointing to the etymology of the term δορυφόρει: “Von seiner Grundbedeutung her (“Lanzenträger”) ließe sich vielleicht an eine Art Assistent denken, der dem ἀκοντιστής, dem Lehrer für das Speerwerfen, oder dem Epheben selbst beim Speerwurftraining zur Hand geht. Doch kann dies nicht mehr als eine Vermutung sein.” This conjecture is interesting in itself, but fails to throw light on the specific meaning of the term in our passage. In my view, it is important to note that the military connotation of the verb δορυφορέω merely continues the imagery present in the preceding term ξενολόγει (“enlist foreign troops”, esp. mercenaries; LSJ, s.v.). This imagery from the military domain does not reflect Epicurus’ own conduct or intentions but Plutarch’s malicious attempt to suggest that his opponent tried to recruit his followers in a very militant and disciplined way, which, of course, is radically opposed to (what Plutarch regards as) the meaning of the maxim λάθε βιώσας. In short, Plutarch’s choice of the term is primarily conditioned by his polemical intentions.

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πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις: Epicurus addressed himself to both men and women. The men included slaves such like Mys (Diog. Laert. 10,3 and 10), who also received letters from Epicurus (fr. 152-155 Us.). For the women in the Garden, see M. Erler (1994b), 287-288. Cicero’s claim that Epicurus’ and Metrodorus’ writings were only read in the confined circle of the Epicureans themselves (Tusc. 2,8) roots in his own polemical purposes (Cicero in all probability read Epicurus himself, as did Seneca, Plutarch, and others); contra: B. Frischer (1982), 50. ἐπιδεικνύμενος: This is again a malicious choice of word, in view of Epicurus’ general avoidance to practise epideictic rhetoric; cf. Diog. Laert. 10,120 (fr. 566 Us.: οὐ πανηγυριεῖν), 10,118 (= fr. 565 Us.: οὐδὲ ῥητορεύσειν καλῶς), and esp. Philodemus’ position in his Rhetoric. τὴν σοφίαν: It is not unlikely that Epicurus indeed proclaimed himself to be sage; cf. Non posse 1100A = fr. 146 Us.: σοφὸν δὲ μηδένα φάναι πλὴν αὑτοῦ γεγονέναι καὶ τῶν μαθητῶν; Cicero, Cato 43: ... esse quendam Athenis qui se sapientem profiteretur, eumque dicere omnia quae faceremus ad voluptatem esse referenda. Moreover, he apparently regarded both Metrodorus (cf. Cicero, fin. 2,7 and nat. deor. 1,113; but see also Seneca, epist. 18,9 = fr. 158 Us.) and Hermarchus as sages; see Seneca, epist. 52,4 = fr. 192 Us.: ad eundem finem uterque pervenerit. μηδὲ διατάσσου περὶ ταφῆς: The relevant section of Epicurus’ last will (ap. Diog. Laert. 10,18 = fr. 217 Us.) runs as follows: ἐκ δὲ τῶν γινομένων προσόδων τῶν δεδομένων ἀφ’ ἡμῶν ’Αμυνομάχῳ καὶ Τιμοκράτει κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν μεριζέσθωσαν μεθ’ Ἑρμάρχου σκοπούμενοι εἴς τε τὰ ἐναγίσματα τῷ τε πατρὶ καὶ τῇ μητρὶ καὶ τοῖς ἀδελφοῖς, καὶ ἡμῖν εἰς τὴν εἰθισμένην ἄγεσθαι γενέθλιον ἡμέραν ἑκάστου ἔτους τῇ προτέρᾳ δεκάτῃ τοῦ Γαμηλιῶνος, ὥσπερ καὶ εἰς τὴν γινομένην σύνοδον ἑκάστου μηνὸς ταῖς εἰκάσι τῶν συμφιλοσοφούντων ἡμῖν εἰς τὴν ἡμῶν τε καὶ Μητροδώρου 〈μνήμην〉 κατατεταγμένην. συντελείτωσαν δὲ καὶ τὴν τῶν ἀδελφῶν ἡμέραν τοῦ Ποσειδεῶνος· συντελείτωσαν δὲ καὶ τὴν Πολυαίνου τοῦ Μεταγειτνιῶνος καθάπερ καὶ ἡμεῖς; cf. also Cicero, fin. 2,101 and Aelian, fr. 42a Domingo-Forasté. On the date of Epicurus’ birthday, see K. Alpers (1968), on the authenticity of the will, see M. Leiwo – P. Remes (1999), 163. τί γὰρ αἱ κοιναὶ τράπεζαι: see supra, 3.3.3.2b for a discussion and evaluation of Plutarch’s argument. τί δὲ αἱ τῶν ἐπιτηδείων καὶ καλῶν σύνοδοι: On the obscurity of the term καλῶν and Wilamowitz’ conjecture φίλων, see B. Heininger (2000a), 67-68. If καλῶν is right, it most likely refers to the εὐπρεπεῖς καὶ νέας γυναῖκας present in the Garden (Non posse 1097D) and may resume the men-women dichotomy expressed in πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις just before. The suggestion of F. Portalupi (1961), 16, n. 21, that Plutarch maliciously alludes to Epicurus’ friendship with the young and beautiful Pythocles, cannot be excluded either.

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τί δὲ αἱ τοσαῦται μυριάδες στίχων: Cf. 1128C: ἐπεὶ τί λέγειν ἔδει τοῦτο, τί δὲ γράφειν καὶ γράψαντα ἐκδιδόναι κτλ. According to Diogenes Laertius (10,26), Epicurus wrote more than anyone of his predecessors: his total œuvre contained some three hundred volumes, in which, we are told, not one quotation from another author could be found. ἐπὶ Μητρόδωρον: To Metrodorus was dedicated a work in five volumes and a monograph entitled Eurylochus (Diog. Laert. 10,28). ἐπὶ ’Αριστόβουλον, ἐπὶ Χαιρέδημον: Aristobulus and Chaeredemus were Epicurus’ brothers, who joined him in his philosophy (Diog. Laert. 10,3; Plutarch, De frat. am. 487D). Epicurus showed himself beneficent towards them (cf. Diog. Laert. 10,10: ἡ πρὸς τοὺς ἀδελφοὺς εὐποιία; cf. also Philodemus, De piet. col. 51,27-28) and did not forget them in his last will (cf. Diog. Laert. 10,18). Works entitled Aristobulus and Chaeredemus indeed figure in the list of Epicurus’ works in Diog. Laert. 10,27-28. φιλοπόνως: one of Plutarch’s typical sarcastic misrepresentations. It is clear of course that Epicurus did not really like the arduous efforts which writing requires. He did not avoid them, to be sure, presumably because a calculus of pleasure and pain showed him that the pleasures he would derive from writing and publishing his books would far outweigh the pains required by his projects. Cf. also Lucretius’ reference to his verses found with delightful toil (dulcique reperta labore; 3,419; cf. 2,730). ἵνα μηδὲ ἀποθανόντες λάθωσιν: From Plutarch’s use of the term ἀποθανόντες instead of ἀποβιώσαντες, one might infer that he did not (yet) know of the maxim λάθε ἀποβιώσας and that the latter was later coined, for instance by Apollonius of Tyana or by his biographer Philostratus (cf. VA 8,28). Epicurus himself connected καλῶς ζῆν and καλῶς ἀποθνῄσκειν (Epist. ad Men. 126). ἵν’ ἀμνηστίαν κτλ.: Note the fine play of chiasm and homoioteleuton in this concluding sentence. The term ἀμνηστία may recall the famous vote of amnesty following the fall of the Thirty (cf. Aristotle, Ath. 39,6 and 40,2; Xenophon, HG 2,4,43; Nepos, Thras. 3,2-3; Isocrates, 18,2; Valerius Maximus, 4,1, ext. 4; Iustinus, 5,10,11). In that case, ἀμνηστία was an honourable political course and Plutarch even recommends it as an example that can still be imitated by the politician of his own day (Praec. ger. reip. 814B; cf. also Cic. 42,2). Epicurus’ maxim, however, is far too radical and in a certain sense turns things upside down, in that it implies, according to Plutarch, forgetfulness not of past wickedness, but of virtue. νομοθετῇς: In the light of Adv. Colot. 1127BC, where the legislative activities of some philosophers are ridiculed by Metrodorus, the use of the term νομοθετῇς probably betrays once again a certain sarcasm on Plutarch’s part.

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ἀπραξίαν τέχνῃ: For Plutarch’s use of the term ἀπραξία in this context, see supra, 3.3.3.2c; for τέχνη in Plutarch, see L. Van der Stockt (1992b). In Plutarch’s view, Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ thus forces technical skill to remain idle. One may recall the story of the grammarian M. Pompilius Andronicus, who, because of his devotion to Epicureanism, was thought to be somewhat indolent in his work and unsuitable for keeping a school, and had to retire to Cumae (Suetonius, gramm. 8,1-2). λήθην εὐπραγίᾳ: This phrase, in which the important theme of λήθη is for the first time introduced (cf. also 1129B), both anticipates and opposes Plutarch’s argument in chapter 7 (1130D and E). Once again, Epicurus turns things upside down. Whereas his advice entails in Plutarch’s view oblivion of εὐπραγία, after death, it will be Epicurus’ own ἀπραξία that will be forgotten.

Chapter 4 (1129A-D): Epicurus’ egoistic hedonism versus Plutarch’s social commitment The darkness of the Epicurean ‘unnoticed life’ is fitting for wicked men who pursue base corporeal pleasures, but unattractive for high-principled philosophers, since it does not enable them to become honourable example that can be imitated by others. It is only by entering public life and making himself known that a man can gain the confidence of his fellow citizens and make himself useful for his city. An ‘unnoticed life’, on the other hand, entails the corruption of one’s talents. καθάπερ ἐκ συμποσίου φῶς: Removing light from a symposium leads to all kinds of wicked behaviour. See esp. Quaest. conv. 716D: οἱ φιλοσοφίαν [...] ἐκ τῶν συμποσίων ἐκβάλλοντες οὐ ταὐτὸ ποιοῦσι τοῖς τὸ φῶς ἀναιροῦσιν, ἀλλὰ χεῖρον, ὅσῳ λύχνου μὲν ἀρθέντος οἱ μέτριοι καὶ σώφρονες οὐδὲν ἔσονται κακίους, τὸ αἰδεῖσθαι τοῦ βλέπειν ἀλλήλους μεῖζον ἔχοντες, κτλ. A case in point is Lucian, Symp. 46, where the extinction of the lamp entails sexual debauchery and theft.

1129B ἀναιρεῖς τὴν γνῶσιν: The term γνῶσιν should here be understood in its passive sense of “being known”. The ambiguity of the word will be important further on in the work; cf. supra, 3.6.3.3b (with note 244). ὡς πάντα ποιεῖν κτλ. : The text has severely been damaged; see I. Gallo (2000), 56, who himself rightly adopts the reading of Einarson and De Lacy as the most attractive alternative.

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Ἡδείας: This is one of the famous courtesans in the Garden, mentioned also in Non posse 1089C and 1097E, and in Diog. Laert. 10,7. She may have been from Cyzicus (cf. 1098B and H. Usener (1881), 416; J.M. Rist (1972), 7 and 10). On the basis of IG II2 1534.41 and SEG 16,300.9, C.J. Castner (1982) argues that Hedeia (along with some other Epicurean courtesans) dedicated herself to healing gods. Λεοντίῳ: The concubine (Diog. Laert. 10,23) or wife (Seneca, fr. 45 Haase = fr. 19 Us.) of Metrodorus, famous for her intellect (according to Cicero, nat. deor. 1,93, she wrote a book against Theophrastus in an attractive Attic style; cf. also Pliny, nat. praef. 29) and notorious for her licentiousness (Athenaeus, 13, 588b = fr. 121 Us. states that she consorted with all the Epicureans in the Garden, even in the presence of Epicurus; cf. Clement of Alexandria, strom. 2,23,138,6). Epicurus sent many letters to her (Diog. Laert. 10,6; fr. 143-145 Us.). Further mentioned in: Philodemus, Πρὸς τοὺς –––, col. vi, 11-12 A.; De lib. dic. fr. 9,3; Diog. Laert. 10,4 and 5; Plutarch, Non posse 1089C and 1097DE; Athenaeus, 13, 593bc; Pliny, nat. 35,99 and 144 (portraits); Alciphron, 2,2 (fictitious letter to Lamia); Theon, Prog. 8, p. 112.1 Sp.; Cleomedes, 2,1, p. 62.518 Todd; Hieronymus, Adv. Iovin. 1,48 (PL 23, p. 280.16). συγκαταζῆν: B. Heininger (2000a), 69 points to the semantic difference between βιοῦν and συγκαταζῆν: “Die unterschiedliche Wortwahl (μεθ’ Ἡδείας βιοῦν – Λεοντίῳ συγκαταζῆν) hält allerdings einen gewissen Unterschied in den Beziehungen Epikurs zu den beiden Frauen fest; Leontion soll wohl als langjährige Lebensgefährtin Epikurs vorgestellt werden”. Although Plutarch’s choice of words may in this case primarily serve rhetorical demands (varietas placet), one may note that Heininger’s subtle distinction gains additional support from a passage in Plutarch’s Amatorius, namely, 749E: γημαμένη φανερῶς συγκαταζῆν τῷ Βάκχωνι. τῷ καλῷ προσπτύειν: (= fr. 412 Us.) This is an allusion to a passage in Epicurus’ Περὶ τέλους, but polemically isolated from its more nuanced context. Epicurus’ words are more fully preserved in Athenaeus, 12, 547a = fr. 512 Us.: προσπτύω τῷ καλῷ καὶ τοῖς κενῶς αὐτὸ θαυμάζουσιν, ὅταν μηδεμίαν ἡδονὴν ποιῇ; cf. also Plutarch, Adv. Colot. 1124E and Non posse 1095F. For the Epicurean use of the verb προσπτύω, see also SV 47; Stobaeus, 3,17,33 (= fr. 181 Us.); Plutarch, Non posse 1088B (= Metrodorus, fr. 62 K.); and F. Albini (1993), 173. τἀγαθὸν ἐν σαρκὶ καὶ γαργαλισμοῖς τίθεσθαι: (= fr. 412 Us.) Cf. Athenaeus, 12, 546e (= fr. 413 Us.): καὶ ἵνα μὴ τοὺς καταιγισμοὺς λέγω καὶ τὰ ἐπεντρώματα, ἅπερ πολλάκις προφέρεται ὁ ’Επίκουρος, καὶ τοὺς γαργαλισμοὺς καὶ τὰ νύγματα, κτλ.; Seneca, epist. 92,6: alterum illud, voluptas, bonum pecoris est. [...] Ad hanc vitam facit titillatio corporis; cf. also Plutarch, An seni 786D; Cleomedes, 2,1, p. 61.497-498 Todd.

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δεῖται σκότους: Cf. Plato, Phlb. 65e-66a. Once again the maxim λάθε βιώσας is associated with darkness; cf. supra on 1128D (κατὰ σκότους). τὰ τέλη: “rites”; Plutarch’s imagery recalls Timocrates’ slanderous reference to the nocturnal sessions of philosophy and the mystic kind of reunion (τὴν μυστικὴν ἐκείνην συνδιαγωγήν) in which he participated during his stay in the Garden (Diog. Laert. 10,6; cf. supra, 2.1.2). Cf. also Cicero, de orat. 3,64 (tacitum tamen tamquam mysterium teneant; supra, 2.2.5) and Clement of Alexandria, strom. 5,9,58,1, according to whom the Epicureans (probably a reference to the ex-Epicurean Timocrates) confessed that in the Garden there were esoteric doctrines only open to the inner circle. τὴν λήθην: Here there is again the theme of oblivion; cf. supra on 1129A (λήθην εὐπραγίᾳ). ἐὰν δέ τις κτλ.: See supra, 3.4.2 for a detailed analysis of this programmatic sentence; cf. Libanius, Decl. 1,113. θεὸν ὑμνῇ: cf. Xenophanes, 21 B 1.13 DK: χρὴ δὲ πρῶτον μὲν θεὸν ὑμνεῖν εὔφρονας ἄνδρας. ἵνα μηδένα ... γένηται: For the significance of famous examples of good behaviour on the process of moral progress, see esp. De prof. in virt. 84B-85B. Plutarch’s Lives can be regarded as an elaborate list of such παραδείγματα καλά, which he offers to his readers in order to make them better; cf. G. Roskam (2005a), 320-335. On the pedagogical powers of such examples, see further Seneca, epist. 6,5: longum iter est per praecepta, breve et efficax per exempla; Pliny, paneg. 45,6: melius homines exemplis docentur, quae in primis hoc in se boni habent, quod adprobant quae praecipiunt fieri posse; cf. also Pliny, epist. 8,14,6 and 8,18,12. 1129BC εἰ Θεμιστοκλῆς ... Ξέρξην: Plutarch alludes to the sea-battle at Salamis; cf. Them. 4,4: ὅτι δὲ ἡ τότε σωτηρία τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ἐκ τῆς θαλάσσης ὑπῆρξε καὶ τὴν ’Αθηναίων πόλιν αὖθις ἀνέστησαν αἱ τριήρεις ἐκεῖναι, τά τ’ ἄλλα καὶ Ξέρξης αὐτὸς ἐμαρτύρησε. The battle at Salamis itself is related at length in Them. 12,1-15,2 and Arist. 8,2-9,2; on the crucial importance of Themistocles for the salvation of the Greeks, see esp. Them. 7,3 (δοκεῖ τῆς σωτηρίας αἰτιώτατος γενέσθαι τῇ Ἑλλάδι); cf. Comp. Arist. et Ca. Ma. 2,1; a different evaluation is to be found in Comp. Arist. et Ca. Ma. 5,3. 1129C εἰ Ῥωμαίους ... ἔμεινεν: The allusion is primarily to M. Furius Camillus’ victory over the Gauls who were occupying Rome (Cam. 22,1-30,3) and to his subsequent success in persuading the people to rebuild the city (31,132,3). Camillus († 365 B.C.) was called the Second Founder of Rome (1,1); Livy, 7,1,10; cf. Eutropius, 1,20,5.

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εἰ Δίωνα ... ἡ Σικελία: The story of Dion’s achievements in Sicily is told in Plutarch’s Life of Dion. It is interesting to note that Plutarch usually evaluates Dion’s political action in quite positive terms: Dion is not a new tyrant, succeeding the old one, but is essentially the liberator of Sicily (ἠλευθερώθη; cf. also Non posse 1097B; Adv. Colot. 1126C; Dion 29,1-2; Tim. 1,1; see also Philostratus, VA 7,2 and Nepos, Dion 10,2). The same characterisation of tyrannicide as an act of liberation also occurs elsewhere in Plutarch’s works. Python and Heraclides, for instance, brought freedom to Thrace by killing the tyrant Cotys (Adv. Colot. 1126C). For Plutarch’s position regarding tyrannicide, cf. also supra on 1128F (Θρασυβούλῳ, μὴ τυραννοκτόνει). In Plutarch’s view, it was actually Plato who laid the foundation of the liberation of Sicily, through his pupil Dion (cf. Maxime cum principibus 777A; Non posse 1097B; Adv. Colot. 1126BC). According to L. de Blois (1999), however, Plutarch exaggerates the importance of Plato’s actions at the Syracusan Court in a way that recalls the chauvinistic ideals of the Second Sophistic. ὡς γὰρ οἶμαι τὸ φῶς ... ἀλλήλοις: Plutarch’s comparison recalls Plato, R. 6, 509b (τὸν ἥλιον τοῖς ὁρωμένοις οὐ μόνον, οἶμαι, τὴν τοῦ ὁρᾶσθαι δύναμιν παρέχειν φήσεις, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν γένεσιν καὶ αὔξην καὶ τροφήν), and again introduces the important imagery of (darkness and) light; cf. supra on 1128D (κατὰ σκότους). ἡ γνῶσις: The term should again be understood in the passive sense of “being known”; cf. supra on 1129B (ἀναιρεῖς τὴν γνῶσιν). οὐ μόνον δόξαν ... δίδωσιν: Virtue that is made known by itself entails both fame and action. For the close connection between virtue and fame, see, e.g., Cicero, Tusc. 1,109 and 3,3; Seneca, epist. 79,13-18; dial. 5,41,2; cf. also R.J. Newman (1988) on the position of Seneca. The addition of the component of πρᾶξις is important for several reasons. It reflects the great importance which Plutarch attaches to the demand of consistency: virtue can in the end never remain mere theory but presupposes translating one’s opinions into concrete deeds; see De prof. in virt. 79F-80A and esp. 84B: τὸ τὰς κρίσεις ἐπὶ τὰ ἔργα μετάγειν καὶ τοὺς λόγους μὴ λόγους ἐᾶν ἀλλὰ πράξεις ποιεῖν μάλιστα τῆς προκοπῆς ἴδιόν ἐστιν. This, of course, can be traced back to Aristotle (EN 10, 1178a34-1178b3) and to Hellenistic philosophy (cf., e.g., the Stoic position in Cicero, ac. 1,38 = SVF 1,199, and the Epicurean one in RS 25). This traditional view of virtue as a virtus in usu sui tota posita (Cicero, rep. 1,2; cf. also nat. deor. 1,110 and off. 1,19) forms the background of Plutarch’s own convictions, but it is not the only explanation of his focus on action in this passage. In this context, Plutarch’s emphasis on πρᾶξις is no less motivated by his concern to clarify his own position (cf. I. Gallo (2000), 58) than by his polemical goal. In his view, the πρᾶξις of virtue is diametrically opposed to the ἀπραξία (cf. 1129A; 1129D; 1130E) of the

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Epicurean ‘unnoticed life’. Plutarch’s implicit contention that the Epicurean philosophy expressed in the advice of λάθε βιώσας is unable to produce virtuous actions rests on [1] his view of γνῶσις as an incentive to, and even a necessary condition for, virtuous action, and [2] on his biased interpretation of the maxim as advice to seek utmost obscurity. ’Επαμεινώνδας: For the importance of Epameinondas in Plutarch’s works in general, and in his anti-Epicurean polemics in particular, cf. commentary on 1128F (’Επαμεινώνδᾳ ... μὴ στρατήγει). εἰς τεσσαρακοστὸν ἔτος ἀγνοηθείς: Cf. H. Swoboda (1905), 2675, according to whom Plutarch’s statement “daß E. bis zu seinem vierzigsten Jahre in Zurückgezogenheit gelebt und erst von da ab seinem Vaterland genützt habe [...] ist aber sicherlich nichts anderes als die von den Alten beliebte Verknüpfung der ἀκμή mit einem bedeutenden Ereignis des Lebens.” πιστευθείς: On the importance that the politician be trusted by his fellow citizens, see Praec. ger. reip. 821B and esp. 821C: τοῦτο μὲν πρῶτον καὶ μέγιστον ἔνεστι τῇ δόξῃ τῇ τῶν πολιτικῶν ἀγαθόν, ἡ πάροδον ἐπὶ τὰς πράξεις διδοῦσα πίστις; Maxime cum principibus 777EF; Agis 2,1. τὴν μὲν πόλιν ἀπολλυμένην ἔσωσεν: The vague phrase probably does not refer to the seizure of the Kadmeia and the liberation of Thebes in 379 B.C. (related at length in De genio Socratis), but to the negociations of the King’s Peace of 371 B.C. and the subsequent battle of Leuctra. For at the former event, Epameinondas preferred to retreat into the background (De gen. Socr. 576E-577A and 594BC), whereas he played the leading part in the latter. Unfortunately, it is not perfectly clear when exactly Epameinondas was for the first time elected a Boeotarch (cf. ἄρξας), but we know he held this office in 371 B.C. τὴν δ’ Ἑλλάδα δουλεύουσαν ἠλευθέρωσεν: During the negotiations preceding the King’s Peace of 371 B.C., Epameinondas made a famous speech against Sparta and on behalf of all the other Greeks, arguing that Sparta’s greatness was due to the sufferings of all the other cities and insisting that they should make peace in terms of equality and justice; see Plutarch, Ages. 27,4: διεξῆλθε λόγον, οὐχ ὑπὲρ Θηβαίων, ἀλλὰ ὑπὲρ τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὁμοῦ κοινόν, τὸν μὲν πόλεμον ἀποδεικνύων αὔξαντα τὴν Σπάρτην ἐξ ὧν ἅπαντες οἱ λοιποὶ κακῶς πάσχουσι, τὴν δὲ εἰρήνην ἰσότητι καὶ τῷ δικαίῳ κτᾶσθαι κελεύων; cf. Nepos, Epam. 6,4; further discussion can be found in D.R. Shipley (1997), 311-313. καθάπερ ἐν φωτί: This again is a reference to the imagery of light; cf. supra on 1128D (κατὰ σκότους). ἐπὶ καιροῦ: For the importance of making use of the καιρός in politics, see Praec. ger. reip. 803A; 803F-804B; 804C; 822B. One may add that Plutarch probably wrote a commentary on Theophrastus’ work Πολιτικὰ πρὸς τοὺς

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καιρούς (cf. Lamprias catalogue, n° 52-53). For the influence of Theophrastus’ treatise on Plutarch’s Political precepts see, e.g., K. Mittelhaus (1911), 2939; Th. Renoirte (1951), 40-41; G.J.D. Aalders (1982), 49 and 64; D.C. Mirhady (1995), 269-273. One should note, however, that the (political) importance of the καιρός was also recognised by Plato (Ep. 7, 326a), Aristotle (EN 2, 1104a8-9), and Demetrius of Phaleron, who wrote a work Περὶ καιροῦ (Diog. Laert. 5,81). 1129CD λάμπει γὰρ ... ἤμυσεν: = Sophocles, TrGF 4, fr. 864. Plutarch quotes the same two verses in An seni 792A, and the first one also in 788B. Cf. also Ovid, am. 1,8,51-52: aera nitent usu, vestis bona quaerit haberi, canescunt turpi tecta relicta situ. 1129D εὐρῶτα: The same imagery can be found in De aud. 48D: τὸν δ’ ἐντὸς εὐρῶτα τῆς ψυχῆς καὶ ζόφον; more parallels are to be found in B.P. Hillyard (1981), 261-262; cf. also F. Fuhrmann (1964), 160 on Plutarch’s use of the imagery of pollution. ἀπραξίᾳ: Cf. 1129A and supra, 3.3.3.2c. The counterpart of the Epicurean ἀπραξία δι’ ἀγνοίας appears to be the εὐπραξία δι’ ἀρετῆς καὶ φρονήσεως given by the gods; see Fab. 5,1; cf. Non posse 1101DE. ἡσυχία δὲ κωφή: Epicurus indeed often conceived his ideal of a sequestered life in terms of ἡσυχία; see esp. RS 14 (τῆς ἡσυχίας καὶ ἐκχωρήσεως τῶν πολλῶν) and Plutarch, Maxime cum principibus 778C (= fr. 544 Us.): ’Επίκουρος τἀγαθὸν ἐν βαθυτάτῳ τῆς ἡσυχίας [...] τιθέμενος; cf. also De Stoic. rep. 1033C (= fr. 426 Us.). The addition of κωφή reflects Plutarch’s own depreciation of such an ideal. Epicurus himself may well point to similar depreciations of his ideal in SV 11 (τῶν πλείστων ἀνθρώπων τὸ μὲν ἡσύχαζον ναρκᾷ). βίος ἑδραῖος: Cf. AP 11,42; Schol. in Hom. Il. 9,63c. By Plutarch’s criteria, the Epicureans rather adopt a life fitting for women; cf. Quaest. Rom. 288DE: δεῖ δὲ τὸν μὲν ἄνδρα τετράγωνον εἶναι καὶ περιττὸν καὶ τέλειον, τὴν δὲ γυναῖκα καθάπερ τὸν κύβον ἑδραῖον (cf. De prim. frig. 954E; Plato, Ti. 55de) καὶ οἰκουρὸν καὶ δυσμετακίνητον. Cf. also Maximus of Tyre, 13,7: †πολιτείαν (mss.; πορείαν: Russell; Trapp) ὁρᾷς τὸν ἀνθρώπινον βίον, οὐχ ἑδραίαν οὐδὲ ἠπειρωτικήν. ἐπὶ σχολῆς ἀποκείμενος: The addition is necessary for, in itself, a βίος ἑδραῖος could be understood as evidence for stability of character; cf. De prof. in virt. 76F; cf. also Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 7,8,50,3. For σχολή as an Epicurean ideal, see Plutarch, Quaest. conv. 655C (τὴν ’Επικούρου σχολήν), and e contrario SV 14; cf. also Philodemus, Πραγματεῖαι,

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col. xxv, 2-3 and 8-9 (a letter περὶ τῶν ἀσχολιῶν; cf. W. Liebich (1960), 9196). οὐ σώματα μόνον: Cf. De tuenda 135BC: οὐ γὰρ ἀργίας ὤνιον ἡ ὑγίεια καὶ ἀπραξίας, ἅ γε δὴ μέγιστα κακῶν ταῖς νόσοις πρόσεστι, καὶ οὐδὲν διαφέρει τοῦ τὰ ὄμματα τῷ μὴ διαβλέπειν καὶ τὴν φωνὴν τῷ μὴ φθέγγεσθαι φυλάττοντος ὁ τὴν ὑγίειαν ἀχρηστίᾳ καὶ ἡσυχίᾳ σῴζειν οἰόμενος, κτλ.; for a discussion see G. Roskam (2005b), 364-366; cf. also Eum. 11,3. καὶ καθάπερ ... σήπεται: Both imagery and thought can be traced back to Plato, Tht. 153c: ἔτι οὖν σοι λέγω νηνεμίας τε καὶ γαλήνας καὶ ὅσα τοιαῦτα, ὅτι αἱ μὲν ἡσυχίαι σήπουσι καὶ ἀπολλύασι, τὰ δ’ ἕτερα σῴζει; cf. also Ovid, Pont. 1,5,5-6: cernis ut ignavum corrumpant otia corpus, ut capiant vitium, ni moveantur, aquae. On the recurrence of this kind of imagery in the works of Plutarch, see F. Fuhrmann (1964), 60; on the putrefied water of stagnant pools, cf. also Quaest. conv. 725D and Aqua an ignis 957D. It is interesting to note that Plutarch’s imagery may have in this case an additional polemical aspect. Epicurus liked to compare his ideal with the stillness of the sea; see, e.g., Plutarch, Non posse 1088E (= fr. 429 Us.) and 1100E; D. Clay (1972), 63-65. Plutarch here implicitly rejects such a comparison. In his view, the quiet rest of the Epicurean life should be compared with putrefied stagnant pools rather than with the calm sea. On the other hand, he often connects his own ideal of virtue and tranquillity of mind with the same image of the γαλήνη ἄκλυστος; see, e.g., De virt. et vit. 101B; Cons. ad Apoll. 122A; De tuenda 136C; De tranq. an. 476A and 477AB; Amatorius 751E; Maxime cum principibus 777A; Non posse 1098D; Num. 20,4; cf. also De sera num. 563F; Ps.-Plutarch, De lib. educ. 8A. μὴ ἀπορρεόντων μηδὲ πινομένων: The phrase is deleted by F. Dübner (1856), 1381, who was followed by G.N. Bernardakis (1895), 483 and M. Pohlenz (1952), 220, but it may well be correct; see esp. A. Barigazzi (1990), 62-63; cf. also I. Gallo (2000), 58. φθείρονται καὶ ἀπογηράσκουσιν: For this idea, see also Maxime cum principibus 776F-777A: καὶ μὴν ὁ τοῦ φιλοσόφου λόγος, ἐὰν μὲν ἰδιώτην ἕνα λάβῃ, χαίροντα ἀπραγμοσύνῃ καὶ περιγράφοντα ἑαυτὸν ὡς κέντρῳ καὶ διαστήματι γεωμετρικῷ ταῖς περὶ τὸ σῶμα χρείαις, οὐ διαδίδωσιν εἰς ἑτέρους, ἀλλ’ ἐν ἑνὶ ποιήσας ἐκείνῳ γαλήνην καὶ ἡσυχίαν ἀπεμαράνθη καὶ συνεξέλιπεν. Chapter 5 (1129DE): Man as a social being At night, both the body and the mind become inert, whereas sunrise marks the beginning of a new day of activity and social life.

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οὐχ ὁρᾷς: Such a rhetorical question is frequently used by Plutarch in order to introduce incontestable arguments, which are often based on empirically verifiable data; cf. De virt. et vit. 101C; De Pyth. or. 397A; De def. or. 405A; De cup. div. 527A; De se ipsum laud. 545B; Amatorius 759A; De vit. aer. 830C; Aqua an ignis 958E. 1129E ὄκνοι ... ἀδρανεῖς: Cf. Cyrillus of Alexandria, Hom. Pasch. 1,1 (PG 77, 404.711): μακράν που τὸν ἀδρανῆ τῆς ἀργίας ῥίψωμεν ὄκνον καὶ τὸν ἀμυδρὸν τῆς ἀργείας σκότον νικήσαντες, ἀνδρείῳ καὶ λαμπρῷ φρονήματι πρὸς πᾶσαν ἴωμεν ἀρετήν; cf. also 2,7 (PG 77, 445.25) and 26,1 (ibid. 913.19-20). συσταλεὶς ὁ λογισμὸς εἰς αὑτόν: Cf. fr. 178 Sandbach: χωρίζεται γὰρ [sc. ἡ ψυχὴ] ἐν τῷ καθεύδειν ἀνατρέχουσα καὶ συλλεγομένη πρὸς ἑαυτὴν ἐκ τοῦ διατετάσθαι πρὸς τὸ σῶμα καὶ διεσπάρθαι ταῖς αἰσθήσεσι. ὥσπερ πῦρ: Cf. Cons. ad ux. 611F; De facie 926C; cf. also De def. or. 432F, and the opposite comparison (τὴν τοῦ πυρὸς δύναμιν, ὡς ψυχήν) in Cam. 20,4; Quaest. conv. 703A. διεσπασμέναις ... φαντασίαις: Strictly speaking, the appropriate term to denote pictures from dreams is not φαντασίαι (caused by φανταστά) but φανταστικά (caused by φαντάσματα); see Ps.-Plutarch, Plac. philos. 900D-901A for this distinction. Plutarch uses the appropriate terms φανταστικόν and φάντασμα in the context of dreams in De Is. et Os. 384A (τὸ φανταστικὸν καὶ δεκτικὸν ὀνείρων μόριον) and Amatorius 766B (δυσόνειρα φαντασμάτια); cf. also De sup. 166A (ἔνυπνον φάντασμα; in a quotation from an unknown author); De def. or. 437E; Brut. 37,2. A quite illustrative passage, finally, can be found in the Life of Coriolanus (38,3): ἀνόμοιον αἰσθήσει πάθος ἐγγινόμενον τῷ φανταστικῷ τῆς ψυχῆς συναναπείθει τὸ δόξαν, ὥσπερ ἐν ὕπνοις ἀκούειν οὐκ ἀκούοντες καὶ βλέπειν οὐ βλέποντες δοκοῦμεν. When Plutarch uses the less precise word φαντασία in his reflections concerning dreams, he often qualifies it by means of one or more adjectives, as in our passage and in De aud. poet. 15B and Quaest. conv. 686B; cf. also, without adjectives, De tuenda 129B (where the term διασπασμούς occurs) and Brut. 37,2. ἦμος ... ὀνείρους: SH fr. 1046, from an unknown author, also quoted in EM 433.51-52. For the combination ἠπεροπῆες ὄνειροι, cf. also Apollonius of Rhodes, 3,617-618. ὁ ἥλιος ἀνασχὼν κτλ.: Cf. Dio of Prusa 3,81 on the sun: ἐπεὶ δὲ αὖ τὸ φῶς ὁρᾶσθαι μὲν ἥδιστον, πράττειν δὲ ἀδύνατον ὁτιοῦν χωρὶς αὐτοῦ, κοιμώμενοι δὲ πᾶσαν μὲν ἡσυχίαν ἄγομεν, οὐδὲν δὲ χρώμεθα τῷ φωτί, ὅσον μὲν ἱκανὸν ἐγρηγορέναι χρόνον, ἡμέραν ἐποίησεν, ὅσον δὲ κοιμᾶσθαι ἀναγκαῖον, νύκτα ἀπέδειξε, περὶ πᾶσαν ἰὼν γῆν, ἄλλοτε ἄλλους ἀναπαύων τε καὶ ἀνιστάς, ἀφιστάμενος μὲν ἀπὸ τῶν μηκέτι δεομένων φωτός, τοῖς δὲ ἀεὶ δεομένοις ἐπιφαινόμενος.

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νέα ἐφ’ ἡμέρῃ φρονέοντες: (= fr. 68 B 158 DK) The phrase is also quoted in Quaest. conv. 655D and 722D. J.P. Hershbell (1982), 105-106 argues that Plutarch uses Democritus’ words primarily for the sake of literary or rhetorical embellishment rather than for serious philosophical purposes; cf. also S.-T. Teodorsson (1996), 196. Yet the quotation also has a polemical purpose, isolating Epicurus by connecting the position of his closest ally to Plutarch’s own argument; cf. supra, 3.5.1e. καθάπερ ἀρτήματι συντόνῳ σπασθέντες: Plutarch’s imagery has been explained in different ways. F. Fuhrmann (1964), 227, n. 3 connects it with slavery, R. Hirsch-Luipold (2000), 105, n. 22 with puppets, B. Heininger (2000a), 72 with “ein straffes oder gespanntes Seil”. ἐπὶ τὰς πράξεις ἀνίστανται: Cf. Quaest. conv. 722EF: τὸ γάρ [...] ἐξανιστὰν ἡμᾶς ἐπὶ πράξεις καὶ λόγους κτλ. Chapter 6 (1129E-1130C): The ontological foundations: the connection between being and being known God has given life to human beings in order to make them known. Even Epicurus’ atomistic perspective shows that man is known as soon as he is born. Consequently, γένεσις is not the road to being but to being known, just as destruction should be understood as a transfer into the realm of the unseen. This also throws light upon the precise meaning of traditional epithets of the god Apollo (Δήλιος and Πύθιος) and of the name of Hades. Furthermore, Plutarch’s argument shows why the ancients called man φώς and supports the conviction of some philosophers according to whom the soul is, in its substance, light. Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’, then, implies a rejection of his own being. δοκῶ δὲ ἐγώ: Plutarch here introduces his own conviction in a remarkably direct way; cf. also the somewhat less emphatic phrase ἐγὼ δ’ ἂν εἴποιμι in 1128CD, and οἶμαι in 1129C and 1130A. 1129F ἀνθρώπῳ: A. Barigazzi (1990), 52-53 prefers the reading of the manuscripts (ἀνθρώπων), or even the singular ἀνθρώπου, to Wyttenbach’s correction (ἀνθρώπῳ). These readings no doubt have important advantages: the reading of the codices is retained (at least in the case of ἀνθρώπων) and the Platonic term μετασχεῖν can be understood in its specifically Platonic sense (even though this aspect disappears in A. Barigazzi’s own translation: “credo che la vita stessa e in breve la nascita e l’appartenenza alla specie umana siano state date da Dio perché l’uomo sia conosciuto”; p. 53). Nevertheless, Barigazzi’s interpretation also has its disadvantages: γένεσις receives a very spe-

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cific meaning (“specie”, “schiatta”, “generazione”), which would be rather strange in this context, even though it is not alien to Greek philosophical language (Barigazzi himself refers to Plato, Plt. 265b). For everywhere else in chapter 6, γένεσις and γίνεσθαι should undoubtedly be understood as “coming into being”, “birth” (cf. also I. Gallo (2000), 59-60). Moreover, the subject of ἔστι δέ at the outset of the following sentence is less clear in Barigazzi’s interpretation. εἰς γνῶσιν ὑπὸ θεοῦ δοθῆναι: For Plutarch’s general conviction that we have received life from the gods, see esp. Adv. Colot. 1108C: τὸ μὲν ζῆν οἱ γονεῖς μετὰ τῶν θεῶν ἡμῖν ἔδωκαν; cf. also De aud. poet. 22C; Cons. ad Apoll. 116B; De Is. et Os. 382B; Quaest. Rom. 269B; Num. 12,1. The more specific finalistic interpretation implied by εἰς γνῶσιν is motivated by Plutarch’s polemical purpose. ἄδηλος καὶ ἄγνωστος: It is important to note that ἄδηλος is a well-known technical term in Epicurean philosophy; cf., e.g., Epist. ad Her. 38-39 and 80; see also K. Kleve (1963), 29: “Im Epikureismus bezeichnet τὰ ἄδηλα das, was von den Sinnen nicht wahrgenommen wird – τὰ ταῖς αἰσθήσεσιν ἄδηλα [the reference is to Philodemus, De sign. col. xxiii, 9]. Als Beispiele werden Dinge genannt, die zu klein (das Atom), zu fern (fremde Gegenden des Universums) und zu ungeheuer (der Kosmos) sind, als dass sie Objekte unserer Wahrnehmung werden können.” The term ἄγνωστος is presumably added by Plutarch in order to orient the more general technical term ἄδηλος towards the specific subject matter of his anti-Epicurean polemic (like εἰς γνῶσιν reorients the more general ὑπὸ θεοῦ δοθῆναι). κατὰ μικρὰ καὶ σποράδην φερόμενος: A very interesting parallel to this passage can be found in the second chapter of De fort. Rom. 317AB, where the atomistic theories under discussion are vaguely ascribed to οἱ φυσικοί: compare κατὰ μικρὰ καὶ σποράδην φερόμενος with τῶν μὲν ἔτι μικρῶν καὶ σποράδην φερομένων (317A); συνερχόμενος (1129F) with συνελθόντα (317A); λαμβάνων μέγεθος (1129F) with μέγεθος λαβοῦσαν (317B). This close parallel makes problematic the interpretations of A.R. Shilleto (1888), 376 (“For everyone comes into this great universe obscure and unknown casually and by degrees, but when he mixes with his fellows and grows to maturity, etc.”), O. Apelt (1926), 116 (“Er bleibt aber unbemerkt und unbekannt, solange er auf enge und kleine Verhältnisse beschränkt sich in dem großen Ganzen bewegt. Wenn er sich aber mit seinesgleichen zusammentut und dadurch an Größe zunimmt, etc.”); F. Portalupi (1961), 21 (“La divinità stessa (sic!) ci appare confusa e indistinta in tutta la volta celeste, ma a poco a poco, ci si rivela e traspare chiaramente qua e là; quando poi diviene e acquista forma, etc”); and A. Barigazzi (1990), 53 (“Egli è oscuro e ignoto nel vasto universo e si trova in uno stato di isolamento e di dispersione; ma, quando si sia iniziata una cooperazione, con l’associazione e l’aumento di consistenza, etc.”), which all fail to do

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justice to the atomistic perspective. Plutarch neither alludes to the Aristotelian position (Pol. 1, 1252b23-24) nor to Platonic or Academic doctrine (pace I. Gallo (2000), 60: “Potrebbe trattarsi di dottrina platonica, anche se non proprio di Platone, ma della successiva Accademia”), nor to Democritus’ convictions (pace B. Heininger (2000a), 72-73), but rather to the Epicurean atomistic point of view (thus correctly R. Feldmeier (2000), 92). He tries to show that even in an Epicurean perspective, birth should be regarded as a road to being known, and thus that Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’ runs counter to his own philosophical convictions; cf. supra, 3.6.2.1. ὅταν δὲ γένηται: “Whenever he comes into being”. According to A. Barigazzi (1990), 53, “γένηται non ha il senso di “nascere”, “divenire” [...], perché la nascita è già presupposta quando si dice ἔστι δ’ ἄδηλος καὶ ἄγνωστος. Penso che sia caduto qualcosa come συνεργός”. But such an insertion is both arbitrary (cf. I. Gallo (2000), 60) and unnecessary, since the next sentence shows that γένεσις should precisely be understood as passing from the condition of being ἄδηλος καὶ ἄγνωστος to that of being known. Consequently, birth is not yet presupposed in the phrase ἔστι δ’ ἄδηλος καὶ ἄγνωστος. In other terms, Barigazzi interprets γένεσις as a ὁδὸς εἰς οὐσίαν, but such an interpretation is at odds with the Epicurean atomistic context and is rejected by Plutarch himself in the next sentence. The question remains as to how the generalising subjunctive with ἄν should be understood: “whenever a man comes into being” (every individual being born only once) or “each time a man comes into being” (the same man being born several times, one after another). I think both are possible here. The latter interpretation may at first sight seem too Platonic for this context (which discusses the atomistic, Epicurean perspective; cf. commentary on the above lemma), but see Lucretius, 3,843-861. συνερχόμενος αὑτῷ: Cf. commentary on κατὰ μικρὰ καὶ σποράδην φερόμενος, just above; cf. also Epictetus, 4,7,15. It is interesting to note that Lucretius often described the physical processes of collision and dissolution of atoms with metaphors taken from social and political life; H. Sykes Davies (1931/2), 36-38; G. Cabisius (1984/5); D.P. Fowler (1989), 145-148. λαμβάνων μέγεθος: Cf. commentary on κατὰ μικρὰ καὶ σποράδην φερόμενος (1129F). ἐκλάμπει: cf. 1129C (λάμπει). φανερὸς ἐξ ἀφανοῦς: Just like ἄδηλος, of which it is a specification, ἀφανής is a technical term in Epicurean philosophy; cf., e.g., Epist. ad Pyth. 104; cf. also Epist. ad Her. 39; K. Kleve (1963), 30. οὐ γὰρ εἰς οὐσίαν ὁδὸς ἡ γένεσις: The term γένεσις is an emendation by Turnebus; the manuscripts have γνῶσις. O. Apelt (1926), 116, followed by O. Seel (1972), 375-376, retains the reading of the manuscripts and translates as

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follows: “Denn die Erkenntnis ist nicht der Weg zum Dasein wie einige behaupten, sondern das Dasein der Weg zum Erkennen”. There are many objections that can be raised against this interpretation, however. [1] First of all, this interpretation also implies a slight alteration of the text, since the term οὐσίας of the manuscripts should be changed to οὐσία. [2] Moreover, according to this interpretation, the term φθορά in the following sentence is not opposed to his traditional antipode, that is, γένεσις, but to οὐσία, and should thus be interpreted as οὐκ οὐσία; cf. also A. Barigazzi (1990), 57. [3] Furthermore, this short sentence should obviously be connected with the previous one, where Plutarch shows that a human being, ὅταν γένηται [...], καθίσταται δῆλος. [4] In addition, it is difficult to maintain in an atomistic context that οὐσία is the road to γνῶσις (unless, perhaps, one interprets the term γνῶσις in its strictly active sense as “knowing” instead of “being known”, which, however, does not at all fit with the present context): from an atomistic point of view, οὐσία is rather indifferent to γνῶσις. [5] Additionally, it remains somewhat artificial to take γνῶσις (whether active or passive) as subject of δείκνυσιν. [6] On the other hand, the term γινομένων in the next sentence unmistakably refers to γένεσις. [7] Finally, whereas the ἔνιοι are doomed to remain anonymous in the interpretation of Apelt and Seel, they can be identified more easily if one opts for the reading γένεσις (see commentary on the next lemma). For all these reasons, one should accept the emendation of Turnebus as the most elegant and unproblematic reading. ὡς ἔνιοι λέγουσιν: In the Ps.-Platonic Def., γένεσις is defined in three different ways: κίνησις εἰς οὐσίαν, μετάληψις οὐσίας, and πόρευσις εἰς τὸ εἶναι (411a). The second definition, which may well be the most Platonic of the three (cf. Plato, Prm. 156a: τὸ δὴ οὐσίας μεταλαμβάνειν ἆρά γε οὐ γίγνεσθαι καλεῖς;), comes closest to the perspective of the opening sentence of the sixth chapter of De latenter vivendo but is also most alien to the atomistic passage which follows. The combination γένεσις εἰς οὐσίαν also returns in Plato Phlb. 26d (cf. also 54c; Aristotle, GA 5, 778b5-6; PA 1, 640a18; Metaph. 3, 1003b7). Nevertheless, the closest parallel to this passage is probably Aristotle, Top. 6, 139b19-20, where the definition of γένεσις as ἀγωγὴ εἰς οὐσίαν (compare ἀπαγωγή in Plutarch, 1130A) is also introduced and rejected (though for completely different reasons, viz. as an example of ὁμωνυμία: εἷς μὲν οὖν τόπος τοῦ ἀσαφῶς, εἰ ὁμώνυμόν ἐστί τινι τὸ εἰρημένον, οἷον ὅτι ἡ γένεσις ἀγωγὴ εἰς οὐσίαν). 1130A οὐδὲ ἡ φθορὰ τοῦ ὄντος ἄρσις εἰς τὸ μὴ ὄν ἐστιν: This implies that Plutarch slightly misrepresents the Epicurean position in Non posse 1103E: τοῦ κακῶς πράττειν πέρας ἐστὶν αὐτῇ τὸ ἀπολέσθαι καὶ φθαρῆναι καὶ μηδὲν εἶναι. εἰς τὸ ἄδηλον ἀπαγωγὴ τοῦ διαλυθέντος: This interpretation of φθορά again reflects the Epicurean atomistic point of view; see esp. Adv. Colot. 1112A = fr. 283 Us. (cf. supra, 3.6.2.3). It may be understood as a general rule (cf. also

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Aristotle, Cael. 303b17-18 and esp. Marcus Aurelius, 8,18: ἔξω τοῦ κόσμου τὸ ἀποθανὸν οὐ πίπτει. εἰ ὧδε μένει καὶ μεταβάλλει, ὧδε καὶ διαλύεται εἰς τὰ ἀίδια [conjectural reading proposed by A.S.L. Farquharson (1944), 152 and 760-761; the manuscripts have ἴδια], ἃ στοιχεῖά ἐστι τοῦ κόσμου καὶ σά. καὶ αὐτὰ δὲ μεταβάλλει καὶ οὐ γογγύζει) which also holds true for the death of human beings. It is well-known that Epicurus regarded death as a dissolution of atoms and it is interesting to note that Plutarch also criticised Epicurus on this point (fr. 123 Sandbach). He states that Epicurus should not have spoken unquestioningly about τὸ διαλυθέν in this context, but should first have argued his view of death as a dissolution of body and soul (τὸν θάνατον εἶναι ψυχῆς καὶ σώματος διάλυσιν; cf. Cons. ad Apoll. 109E). Plutarch himself of course endorsed the Platonic position that death is not merely a διάλυσις of body and soul, but a διάλυσις of body and soul ἀπ’ ἀλλήλοιν (see Plato, Grg. 524b). In this perspective, only the body dissolves after death, whereas the soul remains ἀδιάλυτος (cf. Phd. 80b: ἆρ’ οὐχὶ σώματι μὲν ταχὺ διαλύεσθαι προσήκει, ψυχῇ δὲ αὖ τὸ παράπαν ἀδιαλύτῳ εἶναι ἢ ἐγγύς τι τούτου; πῶς γὰρ οὔ). τὸν μὲν ἥλιον ’Απόλλωνα ... νομίζοντες: Plutarch informs us that the equation of Apollo and the sun was widespread in his day (see esp. De E 386B; cf. De Pyth. or. 400D; De def. or. 434F-435A), but he himself did not share this communis opinio. As far as I know, the only passage where Plutarch appears to accept the equation can be found in fr. 194c Sandbach. There, Lydus argues that “the ancients consecrate the bay-tree to Apollo because the plant is full of fire, as Plutarch says, and Apollo is fire, for he is the sun” (τὴν δάφνην δὲ οἱ παλαιοὶ τῷ ’Απόλλωνι καθιεροῦσιν ὅτι πυρὸς πλῆρες τὸ φυτόν, ὥς φησιν ὁ Πλούταρχος, καὶ ὁ ’Απόλλων πῦρ· ἥλιος γάρ ἐστιν). But either the fragment is inauthentic (cf. F.H. Sandbach (1969), 365) or the formula ὥς φησιν ὁ Πλούταρχος should be applied only to what precedes. In fact, the argument ὁ ’Απόλλων πῦρ· ἥλιος γάρ ἐστιν looks very much like a kind of scholarly explanation, which is part of Lydus’ own basic knowledge. And even if the formula ὥς φησιν ὁ Πλούταρχος should be applied to the whole section (which is unlikely in the light of the parallel fr. 194a Sandbach, where the argument of the equation is totally absent), one should bear in mind that the equation could have been adduced by one of Plutarch’s interlocutors, in the context of a dialogue, and thus does not express Plutarch’s own convictions. Leaving this problematic fragment aside, one may conclude that Plutarch nowhere else endorsed the traditional equation of Apollo and the sun. He rather developed an elaborate and subtle symbology that enabled him to establish the precise relation between the noumenal world of the symbolised god and the phenomenal world of his symbol, the sun (cf. supra, 3.6.2.4bc). If that is true, Plutarch’s reference to the traditional equation in our passage does not reflect his own philosophical convictions but roots in his anti-Epicurean polemical purpose; cf. supra, 3.6.2.4d).

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κατὰ τοὺς πατρίους καὶ παλαιοὺς θεσμούς: For Plutarch’s general appreciation of the πάτριος πίστις, see Amatorius 756B: ἀρκεῖ γὰρ ἡ πάτριος καὶ παλαιὰ πίστις, ἧς οὐκ ἔστιν εἰπεῖν οὐδ’ ἀνευρεῖν τεκμήριον ἐναργέστερον [...], ἀλλ’ ἕδρα τις αὕτη καὶ βάσις ὑφεστῶσα κοινὴ πρὸς εὐσέβειαν; cf. De Is. et Os. 369B. In our passage, however, the reference to the tradition may well show a certain critical distancing, for Plutarch always rejected an over-simplified equation of Apollo and the sun; see commentary on the previous lemma. Δήλιον: Apollo’s famous epithet (many references can be found in E. Valgiglio (1988), 210-211) is here connected with the verb δηλόω; cf. δῆλος in 1129F; De E 385BC and 394A; Cornutus, ND 32, p. 67.2-3 L.: Δήλιον δὲ αὐτὸν ὠνόμασαν [...] ἀπὸ τοῦ δηλοῦσθαι δι’ αὐτοῦ τὰ ὄντα; cf. also supra, 3.6.2.4a. Πύθιον: Another of Apollo’s well-known epithets (cf. E. Valgiglio (1988), 209-210), here derived from the verb πυνθάνεσθαι (cf. De E 385B: Πύθιος μέν ἐστι τοῖς ἀρχομένοις μανθάνειν; cf. also Cornutus, ND 32, p. 67.8-11 L.: εὑρεθέντος τοῦ ἐν Δελφοῖς μαντείου τὸν ’Απόλλωνα προσωνόμασαν Πύθιον ἀπὸ τοῦ δεῦρο ἐρχομένους τοὺς ἀνθρώπους πυνθάνεσθαι τὰ καθ’ ἑαυτούς) rather than from πύθεσθαι, “to become rotten”, “to decay”, “to moulder” (LSJ, s.v.; thus A. Strobach (1997), 59). τὸν δὲ τῆς ἐναντίας κύριον μοίρας: Viz. Hades; See L. Van der Stockt (2005), 244-247 for Plutarch’s conception of the god of the underworld. εἴτε θεὸς εἴτε δαίμων ἐστίν: In De Is. et Os. 382E-383A, Hades is from a Platonic perspective equated with Osiris and regarded as a god, whereas in De E 394A, he is considered to be a δαίμων. εἰς ἀιδὲς καὶ ἀόρατον: Just like ἄδηλον and ἀφανής above (1129F), ἀόρατον is a technical term in Epicurean philosophy (cf. Epist. ad Her. 59, 62 and 70; K. Kleve (1963), 30). The term ἀϊδής, on the other hand, does apparently not belong to Epicurus’ technical vocabulary. Its use in this context is clearly prompted by the proposed etymology (cf. De prim. frig. 948F and 953A) and can be traced back to Plato, who accepts the etymology in Phd. 80d, 81c, and Grg. 493b (cf. also Cra. 403a, where the etymology is ascribed to οἱ πολλοί), but rejects it in Cra. 404b. Plutarch also uses the combination εἰς τὸ ἀϊδὲς καὶ ἀόρατον in a purely Platonic context (De Is. et Os. 383A). Cf. finally Cornutus, ND 5, p. 5.2-4 L.: καλεῖται δὲ ᾍδης ἢ ὅτι καθ’ ἑαυτὸν ἀόρατός ἐστιν, ὅθεν καὶ διαιροῦντες ’Αίδην αὐτὸν ὀνομάζουσιν, κτλ.; cf. 35, p. 74.6 L.; Heraclitus, All. 23,11 and 74,6 (cf. 34,6). διαλυθῶμεν: Cf. 1130A (διαλυθέντος); for ἄν with the subjunctive, see commentary on 1129F (ὅταν δὲ γένηται). νυκτὸς ... κοίρανον: = PMG fr. 996 or adesp. 92 Bergk (III, p. 719), also quoted in De E 394A (in a somewhat similar context of an opposition between Apollo and Hades).

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1130AB οἶμαι δὲ καὶ ... ἐμπέφυκεν: This difficult sentence is discussed at length in the introduction; see supra, 3.6.3. 1130B αὐτήν τε τὴν ψυχὴν [...] φῶς εἶναι τῇ οὐσίᾳ: Cf. esp. Quaest. Rom. 281B: ἔοικε γὰρ ὁ λαμπτὴρ τῷ περιέχοντι τὴν ψυχὴν σώματι. φῶς γάρ ἐστιν ἡ ἐντὸς ψυχὴ καὶ δεῖ τὸ συνετὸν καὶ φρόνιμον ἀεὶ ἀναπεπταμένον αὐτῆς εἶναι καὶ δεδορκὸς καὶ μηδέποτε συγκεκλεῖσθαι μηδ’ ἄποπτον μένειν; cf. also De sera num. 563F and 564D; De genio Socr. 591CD; Quaest. conv. 703A; De facie 943D. ἔνιοι τῶν φιλοσόφων: There has been a lot of discussion about the identity of these philosophers: Heraclides Ponticus (E. Bignone (1973), II, 239-241), a combination of Heraclides and Platonic sources (F. Wehrli (1969a), 93), a combination of Academic-Peripatetic and Pythagorean sources (I. Gallo (1996b), 217-218; Id. (2000), 16-19), gnostic sources (H.D. Betz (1990), 139); cf. supra, 3.6.3.3. τὴν μὲν ἄγνοιαν ἡ ψυχὴ δυσανασχετεῖ: Cf. esp. Non posse 1093A: αὐτῆς δὲ τῆς ἀληθείας ἡ μάθησις οὕτως ἐράσμιόν ἐστι καὶ ποθεινὸν ὡς τὸ ζῆν καὶ τὸ εἶναι διὰ τὸ γινώσκειν; cf. also Quaest. conv. 673B: ... οὐδεμίαν ἀλγηδόνα τοῦ σώματος ὑπεξαιρουμένοις οὐδὲ ποιοῦσι λείαν ἐν σαρκὶ καὶ προσηνῆ κίνησιν, ἀλλ’ ὅτι τὸ φύσει φιλοθέαμον ἐν ἑκάστῳ καὶ φιλόσοφον τῆς ψυχῆς ἰδίαν χάριν ζητεῖ καὶ τέρψιν, ὅταν τῆς περὶ τὸ σῶμα θεραπείας καὶ ἀσχολίας ἀπαλλαγῶμεν; Per. 1,2: φιλομαθές τι κέκτηται καὶ φιλοθέαμον ἡμῶν ἡ ψυχὴ φύσει; fr. 178 Sandbach: ἃ δ’ αὐτὴ [sc. ἡ ψυχή] καθ’ αὑτὴν ἐνεργεῖ κατὰ φύσιν, τὸ σκοπεῖν ἀεί τι καὶ λογίζεσθαι καὶ μνημονεύειν καὶ θεωρεῖν, πρὸς ταῦτα ἄτρυτός ἐστι καὶ ἀκόρεστος. ταράττεται ... αὐτήν: Cf. Pyrrh. 2,3: καὶ τὸ σκότος ἐποίει πάντα φοβερώτερα; Cons. ad ux. 610E (τῶν σκοτεινῶν καὶ ταρακτικῶν); Non posse 1104E (φοβερὸν καὶ σκυθρωπὸν καὶ σκοτεινόν); cf. also Nic. 21,7; De genio Socr. 590F-591A; but contrast Alex. 31,6. ἡδὺ δὲ αὐτῇ καὶ ποθεινὸν ... τὸ φῶς ἐστιν: This idea later became a topos in Christian authors; see, e.g., Theophilus of Antioch, Ad Autolyc. 1,6 (l. 22-23 Grant); John Chrysostom, In Acta Apost. 3,5 (PG 60, 42.10-14); In 1 Thes. 1,2,3 (PG 62, 404.20-21); Ecl. 1 (PG 63, 574.3-4); Theodoretus of Cyr, In Is. 18,58,8; De prov. 1,20 (PG 83, 568.25-27); John Damascene, In Transfig. 16 (PTS 29, p. 454.1-9). ὥσπερ τι κοινὸν ἥδυσμα: Plutarch’s comparisons are rarely redundant. The term ἥδυσμα not only recalls the comparison with Philoxenus and Gnathon at the beginning of the work (1128B) and the imagery from the symposium in 1129A (cf. B. Heininger (2000a), 74 and R. Hirsch-Luipold (2000), 115, n. 61), but also the Epicurean τέλος of ἡδονή. In that sense, the comparison may

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well have an ironic aspect, suggesting as it does that Plutarch takes into account Epicurus’ own interests. At the same time, it has a strongly polemical aspect in suggesting that Plutarch’s own position contributes more to pleasure than that of Epicurus. The addition of κοινόν, finally, emphasises the social dimension implied by Plutarch’s argument and thus helps in connecting the whole passage with his attack on Epicurus’ maxim λάθε βιώσας. φιλάνθρωπον: It is well-known that φιλανθρωπία is one of the important virtues in the Corpus Plutarcheum. It has often been regarded as a typical characteristic of Plutarch’s own ἦθος (cf., e.g., R. Hirzel (1912), 29: “Wer überhaupt durch die Schriften Plutarchs in seinen Freundes- und Familienkreis hineinblickt, hat den Eindruck in ein Heiligtum der Philanthropie zu blicken, das diese mit allen den Reizen von Anmut, Freude und Güte ausgestattet hatte, die der Grieche jener Zeit bei diesem Wort empfand”; K. Ziegler (1951), 943: “Aus fast allen seinen Schriften strahlt die Menschlichkeit, die Nächstenliebe, die Herzensgüte, die Versöhnlichkeit, die φιλανθρωπία (um seinen eigenen Lieblingsausdruck zu benützen), die er, wo immer sie ihm begegnete, gerühmt, seinen Lesern empfohlen hat und selbst zu üben sicherlich nicht müde geworden ist, etc.”; cf. also S. Tromp de Ruiter (1932), 295). It is closely connected, in Plutarch’s view, with the idea of civilisation and Hellenism (see esp. H. Martin (1961), 167; cf. also A.G. Nikolaidis (1986), 239-240; Th.S. Schmidt (1999), 55 and 65). See, however, also G. Roskam (2004a), 250-273 on the limits of Plutarch’s conception of φιλανθρωπία. In Plutarch’s own view, the Epicureans advocate a βίος ἀφιλάνθρωπος; Non posse 1098D. ὁ δὲ εἰς τὴν ἄγνοιαν αὑτὸν ἐμβάλλων: Viz. the man who follows Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’. On the precise meaning of the term ἄγνοια in this context, see supra, 3.6.3.3b and 3.6.4. σκότος περιαμπισχόμενος: Once again we have the imagery of darkness, which here turns up as the direct consequence of the previous discussion about light as the substance of the soul; cf. supra on 1128D (κατὰ σκότους). The opposite position, which connects ἡσυχία with light and politics with darkness, can be found in Chio, 16,5: ταύτην [sc. τὴν ἡσυχίαν] γὰρ τοῦ κατὰ φιλοσοφίαν λόγου φῶς εἶναι, τὴν δὲ πολιτείαν καὶ πολυπραγμοσύνην ὥσπερ ζόφον τινὰ ἐπικαλύπτειν καὶ ἀνεύρετον ποιεῖν τοῖς ἐρευνῶσι. 1130BC κενοταφῶν τὸν βίον: The verb κενοταφέω is rare in Greek literature (apart from the two passages in Euripides (Hel. 1060 and 1546) mentioned by B. Heininger (2000a), 74 and R. Hirsh-Luipold (2000), 113, it only occurs in Schol. in Pind. N4, 32, p. 69.11 Drachmann), but the custom itself is also known from other sources. Plutarch himself alludes to it in De Her. mal. 870E, quoting the inscription of the cenotaph at the Isthmus.

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R. Degl’Innocenti Pierini (1992), 165 has pointed to an interesting parallel in Seneca, epist. 55,4 (Vatia hic situs est); cf. also 82,3-4. ἔοικεν αὐτὴν βαρύνεσθαι ... πρὸς τὸ εἶναι: This culminating phrase forms the conclusion of both the previous sentences about man’s love of light and of the foregoing atomistic argument. That λανθάνειν does not necessarily imply ἀπαυδᾶν πρὸς τὸ εἶναι but may well contribute to new life appears from Amatorius 770C-771C. There Plutarch tells how Empona, the wife of Sabinus, lived with her husband, who had fallen into disgrace, in a cave, unknown to anyone, as if living in the underworld (771A: λανθάνουσα τοὺς ἄλλους ὀλίγον ἀπέδει συζῆν ἐν ᾍδου τἀνδρί), and actually became pregnant and gave birth to two sons; cf. also R. HirschLuipold (2000), 113, n. 57. Chapter 7 (1130C-E): An eschatological perspective The final chapter deals with the destination of the good and the bad after death. The former will dwell in an agreeable plain, discussing with one another past and present events. The latter will not have to suffer corporeal tortures but will be punished by obscurity and oblivion. The Epicurean maxim λάθε βιώσας thus turns out to be an anticipation of post mortem punishment. †Καίτοι τῆς γε δόξης ... χῶρον: The beginning of chapter 7 has come to us in a fairly bad state. Most recent editors assume a lacuna here and several of them have tried to fill the gap; see commentary on 1130C (ἡ δὲ τρίτη) for a discussion of their proposals. In the introduction, I have adopted the conjectural reading endorsed by B. Einarson and P.H. De Lacy (which requires only the slight modification of φύσιν into φασιν), but I am conscious of course that the interpretation offered there does not go beyond the level of a hypothesis; cf. supra, 3.7.1 (with note 254). εὐσεβῶν χῶρον: Plutarch’s reference to the χῶρος εὐσεβῶν as the destiny of the good after death can be traced back to a rich tradition and had already become part of popular religious convictions. The idea was adopted and reoriented in early Christianity. A good discussion can be found in B. Heininger (2000b). τοῖσι λάμπει ... λειμώνεσσιν: This is a fragment from one of Pindar’s threnoi (fr. 129 Maehler or fr. 114 Bowra), quoted more fully in Cons. ad Apoll. 120C (several of the next lines survive also in POxy. 2447, fr. 38). ἀκάρπων μὲν ἀνθηρῶν δέ: This may well be an allusion to a problem in the interpretation of Homer’s Odyssey. In 10,510, we can read that willows in the underworld lose their fruits (ἰτέαι ὠλεσίκαρποι). The scholiasts explain

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that willows lose their flowers before they develop into full grown fruits (an alternative explanation, proposed by Theophrastus, is that everyone who drinks the juice of the willow becomes sterile); cf. Schol. in Hom. Od. 10,510 (B.Q.V. and H.T.V.); Eustathius, In Hom. Od. p. 391.42-44 St. The addition of ἀκάρπων may well be a tacit correction of Pindar’s χρυσοκάρποισιν (fr. 129.5 Maehler) on the basis of the above mentioned Homer exegesis. See, in addition, Schol. in Hom. Od. 10,510, H.T.V.: οἰκεῖα γὰρ νεκροῖς τὰ ἄκαρπα; cf. also B.Q.), but contrast Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371c (ἔνθα ἄφθονοι μὲν ὧραι παγκάρπου γονῆς βρύουσι) and Lucian, VH 2,13. Evidence for Plutarch’s interest in and familiarity with Homeric studies are his lost works Ὁμηρικαὶ μελέται (fr. 122-127 Sandbach) and Περὶ τοῦ χρόνου τῆς ’Ιλιάδος (Lamprias catalogue, n° 123). συσκίων: Cf. Pindar, fr. 129.4 Maehler (σκιαρόν) and Lucian, VH 2,14: ... ἐν τῷ ’Ηλυσίῳ καλουμένῳ πεδίῳ· λειμὼν δέ ἐστιν κάλλιστος καὶ περὶ αὐτὸν ὕλη παντοία πυκνή, ἐπισκιάζουσα τοὺς κατακειμένους. B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (1967), 339, note c, rightly infer from συσκίων the presence of light; cf. also Plutarch, Non posse 1105B and fr. 178 Sandbach (φῶς τι θαυμάσιον); Pindar, O. 2,6162; Aristophanes, Ra. 155 and 454; Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371d. ἄνθεσιν: See also Pindar, O. 2,72-73; Aristophanes, Ra. 351-352 (ἐπ’ ἀνθηρὸν ἕλειον δάπεδον); 373; 441-442; 448-449; Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371c (παντοῖοι δὲ λειμῶνες ἄνθεσι ποικίλοις ἐαριζόμενοι); Lucian, VH 2,5; 2,6; 2,13; cf. also Homer’s ἀσφοδελὸς λειμών, the dwelling place of the shades of the heroes (Od. 11,539 and 573; 24,13). πεδίον: Cf. fr. 178 Sandbach (τόποι καθαροὶ καὶ λειμῶνες). The term of course recalls the famous ’Ηλύσιον πεδίον, which Plutarch locates on the moon (De facie 944C; cf. also 942F and Stobaeus, 1,49,61). Contrast Plato’s τῆς Λήθης πεδίον which is bare of all plants and trees (R. 10, 621a; cf. also Aristophanes, Ra. 186 and Theognis, 1216). ἄκλαυστοι: This is opposed to the river Cocytus, which was associated with lamentation (κωκύειν); cf. Cornutus, ND 35, p. 74.23-75.2 L.; Heraclitus, All. 74,2; Suda III, 110.22-23; Eustathius, In Hom. Od. p. 392.19-20 St. λεῖοι: Cf. Lucian, VH 2,5; contrast Homer, Od. 10,515, where the rivers of the underworld are characterised as ἐρίδουποι (“loud-sounding”, “thundering”; LSJ, s.v.). καὶ διατριβὰς ... συνόντες: Plutarch’s description of the rewards of the good is remarkably sober. As such, it contrasts not merely with Musaeus’ famous doctrine of eternal intoxication – Plato, R. 2, 363cd; cf. also Plutarch, Comp. Cim. et Luc. 1,2; F. Casadesús Bordoy (1999) –, but also with most of the traditional pictures; cf., e.g., Pindar, fr. 129.6-7 Maehler (horses, bodily exercises, draughts, music); Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371cd (a long list of entertainments, including spectacles, choruses, musical performances, banquets, and feasts;

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the only element that also occurs in our passage is διατριβαὶ φιλοσόφων); Lucian, VH 2,5 (symposium with music) and 2,14-15 (wine, music, and choruses). It is clear that Plutarch’s description, with its exclusive focus on the social conduct of the good, is thoroughly conditioned by his polemical purpose. Sympotic revelry has been associated before with the moral wickedness of the Epicureans and as such proves unfitting for the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος. Social behaviour, on the other hand, crystallised in sharing reminiscences and holding conversations, is for Plutarch the appropriate reward for everyone not following Epicurus’ advice to ‘live unnoticed’. 1130CD †ἡ δὲ τρίτη ... ὁδός: Plutarch here introduces a third road without having mentioned a second one previously. Many conjectures have been proposed to solve this annoying problem. C. Pascal (1909), 383-384 interprets the three roads in the afterlife from the perspective of the Orphic-Pythagorean division of human life into three parts (“Ora è molto probabile che alla triplice ripartizione della vita umana si facesse corrispondere una triplice ripartizione della vita di oltretomba”) and considers the mention of the second road in this context of De latenter vivendo to be unnecessary because it is a well-known doctrine which Plutarch alludes to (certainly in the philosophical schools), so that he can limit himself to the elements which are necessary for his own polemic (“... si consideri che egli parlava di una dottrina ben determinata e probabilmente ben conosciuta, almeno in certe scuole filosofiche; sicchè poteva senz’altro menzionare la terza via, senza sentirsi obbligato a dare spiegazioni maggiori sulle altre due”). G.M. Lattanzi (1932), 334 likewise considers the mention of the second road to be unnecessary: the light of the Elysian fields and the darkness of the Tartarus suffice as allegoric tailpiece of imagery already omnipresent (“Si potrebbe però osservare che nel de latenter non v’era necessità che si facesse menzione dei μέσως βεβιωκότων. Fin dal principio dell’opuscolo la vita alla luce del sole è contrapposta alla vita nascosta nelle tenebre. Il mito, il quale non ha altro ufficio se non quello di coronare allegoricamente la diatriba, poteva limitarsi a contrapporre la luce dei Campi Elisi alle tenebre del Tartaro”). F. Albini (1993), 41 also accepts a mere dichotomy between “i giusti e gli ingiusti”. J.J. Hartman (1916), 612 follows the conjecture of C.F. Hermann, reading ἡ δέ γε instead of ἡ δὲ τρίτη. Another possibility, which has gained more approval, consists in the suggestion of F. Dübner (1856), 1382 to accept a lacuna before ἡ δὲ τρίτη. In the section that has been lost, Plutarch would have dealt with the second road (cf. A.R. Shilleto (1888), 377; G.N. Bernardakis (1895), 486; O. Apelt (1926), 159; cf. also R.M. Jones (1916), 67; D.A. Russell (1993), 364). In opposition, U. von Wilamowitz (1922), 499 postulates a lacuna at the beginning of the seventh chapter, and considers the εὐσεβῶν χῶρος to be the

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terminus of the second road: he suggests that we read 〈(...) ἡ δὲ δεύτερα ἄγει εἰς τὸν〉 εὐσεβῶν χῶρον. On the basis of Pindar, O. 2, 57ff. (which is the text from which Plutarch quotes in the seventh chapter) the three roads can be identified, always according Wilamowitz, as the roads of “die Frommen, die Bösen und die zur Göttlichkeit erhobenen Heroen” (p. 500; cf. also F. Wehrli (1969a), 92: “Er wird hier wie in Ol. II 61ff an die drei Klassen der Büßer, der für frommes Leben vorübergehend im Jenseits Belohnten und der schließlich zu ewiger Seligkeit Eingehenden denken”). M. Pohlenz (1952), 222 (“post τοῦ (vel εἶναι) magna lacuna”) and I. Gallo (2000), 47 and 63-64 also place the lacuna at the beginning. The position of Wilamowitz has the advantage of solving both the serious text corruption at the outset of the seventh chapter and the problem of the third road by one intervention. A. Barigazzi (1990), 63-64 also opts for an intervention at the beginning of the chapter, suggesting the reading καίτοι τῆς γε δόξης καὶ τοῦ εἶναι φύσιν 〈ἡ εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν τῶν ἡρώων ὁδὸς δηλοῖ καὶ ἡ εἰς τὸν τῶν〉 εὐσεβῶν χῶρον. E. Bignone (1973), II, 241, n. 8 likewise tries to solve the problem by an intervention in the first sentence. Contrary to Barigazzi, he apparently considers the mention of the second road in this context to be unnecessary; he suggests the reading καίτοι τῆς γε δόξης καὶ τοῦ 〈τοῦ φωτὸς ἔρωτος τεκμήριον〉 εἶναί φασιν 〈τὸν〉 τῶν εὐσεβῶν χῶρον; cf. also the proposal of R. Westman (1959), 239 (accepted by F. Portalupi (1961), 23-24): καίτοι 〈ὅτι〉 τῆς γε δόξης καὶ τοῦ εἶναι φύ〈σει ἐπιθυμοῦσιν οἱ ἄνθρωποι, τούτου τεκμήριον εἶναι φα〉σιν εὐσεβῶν χῶρον. Another way to solve the problem is proposed by B. Einarson – P.H. De Lacy (1967), 339, who obtain a second road by subdividing the destiny of the good in the afterlife into the distinct “habitations of the blest and of the good”. Cf. also the position of H.D. Betz (1990), 138 (with n. 18, which refers explicitly to the suggestion of Einarson and De Lacy): “In 1130 C Plutarch presents a description of the afterlife: apparently he distinguishes between three places, two of them being the land where the blessed stay”. As often in the case of problems of textual criticism, we here face a vicious circle. The reconstruction of the text both conditions and is conditioned by the interpretation. That the various conjectures and solutions presented above have more merits as interpretation than as reconstruction of the text, is therefore evident. τῶν ἀνοσίως βεβιωκότων κτλ.: cf. Libanius, Decl. 2,36: τοῖς δὲ ἀθέσμως καὶ ἀδίκως βιώσασι καὶ πολλῶν τὰς ψυχὰς μεστοῖς ἀνοσιουργημάτων Τάρταροί τε καὶ Κωκυτοὶ καὶ Πυριφλεγέθοντες ὑποδοχαὶ καὶ δειναὶ κολάσεις καὶ πολυχρόνιοι τιμωρίαι ἐν πυρὶ καὶ σκότῳ καὶ ἀλλοκότοις ῥεύμασιν ἄληκτον ἐλαυνομένοις φοράν. 1130D ἔρεβός τι: Traditionally, ἔρεβος is the darkness in which the ghosts of the dead abide; cf. Homer, Od. 11,36-41 and 563-564; Theognis, 973-974; Virgil, georg. 4,471-472; Aen. 4,26 and 6,404. For the connection between ἔρεβος

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and darkness or night, see Plutarch, De prim. frig. 953A: τὸ ἔρεβος τοῦτ’ ἦν ἄρα, τὸ χθόνιον καὶ ἔγγαιον σκότος; cf. also Hesiod, Th. 744-745 (on the οἰκία νυκτὸς ἐρεβεννῆς; cf. Th. 213 and Op. 17); Euripides, Or. 174-176; Virgil, Aen. 4,26; Ovid, met. 14,404; Hesychius, s.v. ἔρεβος (p. 187.5 L.). For ἔρεβος as the χῶρος ἀσεβῶν, see Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371e and Hesiod, Th. 515-516, but contrast Servius, Aen. 6,404: Erebus proprie est pars inferorum, in qua hi qui bene vixerunt, morantur. βάραθρον: The βάραθρον originally refers to a chasm in which condemned criminals were thrown. Plutarch himself mentions the βάραθρον in that sense in Arist. 3,2 (cf. also Lyc. 16,1; Cor. 13,1; Mar. 12,3); cf. further Plato, Grg. 516de; Xenophon, HG 1,7,20; Herodotus, 7,133; Suda I, 453.16-19; AB I, 219.8-13; Schol. in Aristoph. Plut. 431. In De sera num. 566F, Plutarch also uses the term in an eschatological context. ἔνθεν ... ποταμοί: This is yet another fragment from the same threnos of Pindar (fr. 130 Maehler or fr. 114 Bowra; cf. supra, commentary on 1130C: τοῖσι λάμπει ... λειμώνεσσιν), also quoted in De aud. poet. 17C, where, however, Plutarch argues that Pindar himself did not really believe what he wrote is actually true. ἀγνοίᾳ: Here the word is most likely used in the passive sense of “remaining unknown”; cf. supra, commentary on 1130B (ὁ δὲ εἰς τὴν ἄγνοιαν αὑτὸν ἐμβάλλων). λήθῃ: Cf. 1129A (λήθην εὐπραγίᾳ) and 1130E on the river Lethe. γῦπες ... τὸ ἧπαρ: This is an allusion to the punishment of Tityos, who in the underworld lies stretched on the ground while two vultures gnaw at his liver; see Homer, Od. 11,576-581; Apollodorus, 1,4,1; Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371e; Virgil, Aen. 6,595-600; Horace, carm. 3,4,77-78; cf. also Hyginus, fab. 55 (according to whom Tityos’ liver is eaten by a snake). It is interesting to note that in rejecting such punishments, Plutarch comes fairly close to the Epicurean position (cf. U. Berner (2000), 127). Yet in the end, his perspective is radically different, as appears from his next argument. His rejection proves to be based on the Platonic dualism between the mortal body and the immortal soul, whereas the Epicurean position presupposes the view of death as a disintegration into atoms. From an Epicurean perspective, the punishment of Tityos is only interesting because it may illustrate the unhappiness caused by moral shortcomings in the hic et nunc. Lucretius thus gives an allegorical interpretation of Tityos’ punishment: Tityos nobis hic est (3,992). Tityos is the paradigm of any man who is prey to passions such as love (3,984-994). βαρῶν τινων ... τῶν κολαζομένων: In this case, Plutarch alludes to the wellknown punishment of Sisyphus, who has to push a rock up a hill which then always rolls down again to the plain; Homer, Od. 11,593-600; Apollodorus,

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1,9,3; Hyginus, fab. 60,3; Ps.-Plato, Ax. 371e-372a; Cicero, Tusc. 1,10; Virgil, Aen. 6,616. As in the case of Tityos’ punishment (cf. commentary above), Lucretius again gives an allegorical interpretation of Sisyphus, whom he regards as paradigm of the politician, always struggling and suffering without ever reaching his political goal (3,995-1002); cf. also supra, 1.2.1.2a. οὐ γὰρ ἔτι ... ἔχουσιν: Homer, Od. 11,219; in the whole passage, Odysseus’ Nekyia as described in book 11 of the Odyssey appears to be at the back of Plutarch’s mind. οὐδέ ἐστιν ... δυνάμενον: It is basically this argument which marks the radical difference between Plutarch’s Platonically inspired rejection of the punishments in the underworld and the Epicurean criticism. 1130E ἀλλ’ ἓν κολαστήριον κτλ.: In De sera num. 564F, ἄγνοια and λήθη are considered to be the punishment of those criminals who are past all healing; see also Non posse 1093A and 1104E. Perhaps, one could also find an allusion to this view in De E 394AB; cf. F.E. Brenk (1977), 26-27. And yet, some doubts have arisen about the precise place of this doctrine in Plutarch’s own philosophy. According to R.M. Jones (1916), 67, for instance, “It is hard to see […] how, even in this form, it could have had a place in his thought, and in view of the fact that it does not appear in the other great myths, I should hesitate about affirming that it formed any real part of his belief”. A possible solution can be found in the position of H. Adam (1974), 69-70: “Als Abschluß und Höhepunkt der Strafe sah Plutarch offenbar die Wiedergeburt an. Nur für die unheilbar Schlechten scheint er an ein völliges Verschwinden der Seele (durch Vernichtung?) gedacht zu haben”. F.E. Brenk (1977), 27 also considers the doctrine to be part and parcel of Plutarch’s thinking: “Real punishment for the soul in the gross material descriptions of it would be inconsistent with his ideas on the immateriality of the soul. If there is an eternal punishment, it would seem to be for Plutarch not torment of a physical kind, nor annihilation, but oblivion”. However that may be, Plutarch’s position in this seventh chapter of De lat. viv. is in the first place conditioned by the immediate demands of his polemical goals. ἀφανισμός: One may note that this term also occurs in Epicurean texts (see, e.g., Epist. ad Her. 39). In this context, however, it should not be understood in its Epicurean atomistic sense, as an εἰς τὸ ἄδηλον ἀπαγωγὴ τοῦ διαλυθέντος (1130A), but in close connection with λήθη as a disappearance from the memory of all. τῆς Λήθης: The interpretation of Λήθη in De lat. viv. radically differs from that in De sera num. 566A, where the stream of the underworld is described

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as a kind of Bacchic chasm. This chasm, which actually forms the way Dionysus had taken to ascend, is a centre of attraction to the souls, although they never dare to cross it at right angles, and Thespesius also longs to stay there. However, his guide forcibly pulls him away, arguing that the intelligent part of the soul (τὸ φρονοῦν) wastes away there and becomes moistened (ἀνυγραίνεται) by pleasure, while the irrational and corporeal part (τὸ δὲ ἄλογον καὶ σωματοειδές) drinks and grows fleshy, and thus introduces memory of the body, and as a result also a desire (πόθος) that drags the soul towards birth (γένεσιν as ἐπὶ γῆν νεῦσιν; for the etymology, cf. also fr. 177 Sandbach); Y. Vernière (1964). In this sense, too, Λήθη is a severe punishment, because man forgets his final destiny and is reincarnated again in the body; cf. also Cons. ad ux. 611EF and Amatorius 764EF. In De lat. viv., on the other hand, λήθη has obviously a passive meaning: the soul does not forget its final destiny, but is forgotten, with total ἀφανισμός as the direct consequence. εἰς ἄβυσσον καὶ ἀχανὲς πέλαγος: It is interesting to note that Plutarch’s description can not only be connected with the traditional picture of the underworld, but also with the Epicurean conception of death as the disintegration of body and soul into atoms. This appears from Non posse 1107A: τίνα γὰρ εὐφροσύνην ἢ ἀπόλαυσιν καὶ βρυασμὸν οὐκ ἂν ἐκκρούσειε καὶ καταιγίσειεν ἐμπίπτουσα συνεχῶς ἡ ἐπίνοια τῆς ψυχῆς ὥσπερ εἰς πέλαγος ἀχανὲς τὸ ἄπειρον ἐκχεομένης, τῶν ἐν ἡδονῇ τιθεμένων τὸ καλὸν καὶ μακάριον; cf. also 1106E. ἀχρηστίαν: Cf. 1128D (μὴ γένῃ ἄχρηστος); 1128F; 1129BC; 1129D (ἄν τι χρήσιμον ἔχωσιν). ἀπραξίαν: Cf. 1129A; 1129D and supra, 3.3.3.2c. ἄγνοιαν: Cf. 1128F; 1129B; 1129D; 1130B; 1130E; and supra, 3.6.3.3b and 3.6.4. ἀδοξίαν: Cf. 1128B (τῆς εἰς ἀδοξίαν προτροπῆς); 1129C; 1130C. For the accumulation of alpha privativum in the last sentence, cf. also Non posse 1098D (βίον ἀνέξοδον καὶ ἀπολίτευτον καὶ ἀφιλάνθρωπον καὶ ἀνενθουσίαστον κτλ.) and 1100C (ἀδοξότερον δὲ ἀφιλίας ἀπραξίας ἀθεότητος ἡδυπαθείας ὀλιγωρίας οὐθέν ἐστι).

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INDICES

Index nominum

A Achilles 169 Aelian 115 Aemilius 172 Afranius, L. 61 Albucius, T. 64 Alcinous 89 Alciphron 45 Alexander the Great 25; 185 Ammonius [teacher of Plutarch] 85; 144 Ammonius [Neoplatonist] 164 Amphion 17 Anticleia 169 Antigonus 37 Antiochus of Ascalon 25 Antony 38 Aphrodite 133 Apollo 144; 145; 146; 147; 148; 149; 168; 169; 182; 207; 211; 212 Apollonius of Tyana 198 Apuleius 89 Aratus 193 Arcesilaus 96; 117; 145; 164; 165 Aristobulus 113; 198 Aristodemus of Cyprus 133 Aristodemus [tyrant] 193 Aristotle 20; 23; 38; 49; 52; 53; 71; 126; 154; 155; 171; 202; 204 Arrian 83 Astylus 186 Athenaeus 186 Athenodorus 75; 76; 78; 79 Atticus 39; 49; 51; 53; 57; 58; 103 B Biton 173 Boidion 119 Brutus 58

C Caesar 59; 61; 69 Calatinus 61; 62 Callisthenes 185 Camillus 61; 130; 160; 201 Capito 173 Carneades 72; 165 Carneiscus 116 Cassius 59; 60; 65 Chaeredemus 113; 198 Chrysippus 70-71; 73; 75; 91; 164 Cicero 21; 22; 39; 43; 49-69; 71; 82; 84; 96; 100; 101; 104; 110; 111; 112; 115; 116; 118; 121; 124; 165; 171; 187; 189; 197 Cleanthes 70; 71; 75; 96; 145; 187 Cleobis 173 Colotes 26; 31; 85; 91; 94; 96; 97; 98; 117; 118; 123; 142; 192; 195; 196 Cotta, C. 61 Cotta [character in Cicero’s De nat. deor.] 129 Cotys 193; 202 Crantor 165 Crassus, L. 61 Crassus, M. Licinius 61 Crassus, P. Licinius 61 Craterus 39 Critias 121 Curio, C. 61 Curius 61 D Damon 172 Decius, P. 62 Demetrius of Phaleron 204 Democritus 17; 18; 71; 88; 91; 94; 117; 135; 207; 209 Deucalion 129

250 Diagoras 121 Didius, T. 61 Diodorus [Epicurean] 103 Diogenes Laertius 196; 198 Diogenes of Babylon 24; 26; 56; 145 Diogenes of Oenoanda 19; 25; 30; 34; 37; 67; 112; 189; 195 Diogenes of Sinope 26 Dion 193; 202 Dionysus 221 Dromocleides 21 E Ecdemus 193 Empedocles 142 Empona 215 Ennius 36 Epameinondas 24; 62; 110; 111; 112; 113; 131; 160; 191; 192; 203 Epictetus 80-84; 96 Epicurus 17-41 and passim Er 167 Eros 145 Eudoxus of Cnidus 43 Eulytidas 186 Euripides 17; 71; 88; 92; 185; 214 F Fabricius 61 Flamininus, T. 61 G Gnathon of Sicily 88; 92; 185; 186; 213 Gyges 124 H Hades 144; 148; 149; 169; 182; 207; 212 Hadrian 39 Hector 27; 169 Hedeia 118; 119; 200 Hera 145; 148 Heracles 145 Heraclides [Epicurean] 108 Heraclides of Aenus 193; 202 Heraclides Ponticus 154; 155; 213 Heraclitus 109 Hermarchus 26; 116; 124; 189; 190; 197 Homer 88; 169; 171; 194; 215

indices Horace 33 I Idomeneus 29; 31; 35; 40; 47; 78; 79; 116; 196 Ion [tragic character] 17 Ion [lawgiver] 129 Isis 122; 148 J Julian 51; 145 Juno 148 Jupiter 148 L Lamia 200 Leonidas 62 Leonteus 46; 196 Leontion 118; 119; 200 Lucian 82 Lucilius 72; 74; 75; 78; 79 Lucretia 62 Lucretius 18; 20; 21; 23; 25; 30; 31; 33; 34; 37; 51; 114; 118; 190; 198; 209; 219; 220 Lucullus 113; 172 Luther 50 Lycurgus 26; 110; 113; 129; 160; 192 Lydus 211 Lysimachus 39 M Marcellus 61 Marius 61 Maximus 61 Megalophanes of Megalopolis 193 Memmius, G. 39; 57; 114 Menander 186 Menander Rhetor 171 Menemachus of Sardes 57; 87 Metellus, Q. 61 Metrodorus 20; 21; 25; 26; 27; 29; 30; 32; 33; 34; 35; 39; 40; 43; 47; 64; 91; 94; 103; 111; 113; 118; 131; 192; 196; 197; 198; 200 Miltiades 25; 110 Mithres 39; 40; 47 Musaeus 216

indices

Mys 197 N Nausiphanes 18; 20; 43; 44; 48 Neocles 94 Nero 72; 79 Nicidion 119 Nicocles 193 Numa 129; 194 O Odysseus 17; 169; 220 Olympiodorus 164 Orion 150 Osiris 122; 145; 148; 212 Ovid 33 P Pan 85 Papirius Paetus 50 Patro 39 Patrocleas 136; 137 Patroclus 169 Paulinus 72; 75 Paulus, L. 61 Pelopidas 172 Pericles 27 Persaeus 37 Perseus 172 Phaedrus 39; 51 Philistas 32 Philodemus 18; 19; 20; 21; 23; 24; 25; 26; 27; 29; 30; 31; 32; 33; 37; 38; 46; 54; 56; 57; 63; 75-76; 108; 112; 115; 116; 122; 130; 169; 170; 189; 197 Philonides 37; 195 Philostratus 33; 198 Philoxenus of Cythera 186 Philoxenus of Leucas 186 Philoxenus, son of Eryxis 88; 92; 185; 186; 187; 213 Pindar 88; 159; 161; 215; 216; 219 Piso, L. 38; 60; 61 Piso, M. 61 Plato 19; 23; 26; 52; 85; 123; 124; 126; 130; 137; 145; 160; 162; 164; 165; 167; 171; 185; 192; 193; 194; 202; 204; 212; 216 Plutarch 21; 27; 35; 41; 50; 51; 55; 60; 62;

251

70; 71; 80; 82; 85-221 Polus 134 Polyaenus 70; 195 Pompeia Plotina 39 Pompeius Strabo, Cn. 61 Pompey 61; 113 Pompilius Andronicus, M. 199 Pomptinus, C. 61 Popillius Theotimus 39 Priamus 169 Prodicus 121 Ptolemy II 31; 196 Pyrrho 18 Pythagoras 107; 110; 111; 113; 117; 160; 193; 194 Pythocles 197 Python 144; 193; 202 R Regulus, M. 63; 64 S Sabinus 215 Sarapion 145 Schopenhauer 50 Scipio 50; 61; 62 Seneca 37; 51; 56; 71-80; 84; 96; 121; 197; 202 Servilius, P. 61 Silanus, L. 173 Simmias 164 Sisyphus 25; 34; 219; 220 Soclarus 133 Socrates 17; 26; 72; 86; 98; 110; 111; 113; 117; 134; 160; 164; 165; 194; 195 Solon 26; 110; 173; 192 Sophocles 88; 131 Speusippus 145; 164 Statilius 38 Stratocles 21 T Tellus 173 Terentius 186 Themista 196 Themistius 136 Themistocles 25; 27; 130; 160; 201 Theophrastus 119; 200; 203; 204; 216

252 Theron 188 Thespesius 167; 221 Thorius, L. 63; 64 Thrasea Paetus 79 Thrasybulus 110; 111; 112; 113; 160; 192 Timocrates 34; 39; 43-49; 64; 67; 84; 118; 119; 201 Timon 136; 137 Tityos 219; 220 Torquatus 20; 22; 62; 63; 65; 69; 101 Torquatus, Aulus 62 Torquatus, T. Manlius 62 Trebatius 58; 59; 65 Typhon 148

indices V Vatia 77; 215 Verginius, L. 62 X Xenocrates 123; 164 Z Zeno [Epicurean] 51 Zeno of Citium 26; 70; 71; 73; 75 Zethos 17 Zeus 145; 148

Index locorum

AB

868-869 I, 219.8-13

219

Aelian fr. 42a VH 9,12 10,8

92; 115; 118; 197 118 186

Alciphron 2,2 4,17,10

200 45

Anth. Lat. 408,8

163

AP 7,23,6 7,43,3 9,387,1 9,450 11,42 Apollodorus 1,4,1 1,9,3 Apollonius of Rhodes 3,617-618 4,1773-1775

171 171 171 171 204 219 219-220 206 169

Aristophanes Ra. 155 186 351-352 373 441-442 448-449 454

216 216 216 216 216 216 216

169

Aristotle Ath. 37-38 39,6 40,2

193 198 198

Cael. 303b17-18 211 EE 1, 1216a23-27 3, 1231a15-17 7, 1242a22-26

20; 126 186 125

EN 1, 1094a1-1094b27 1, 1097b11 1, 1101a14-21 1, 1101a35-1101b9 2, 1104a8-9 3, 1118a32-33 6, 1142a1-11 10, 1178a34-1178b3

126 125 173 171 204 186 71 202

GA 5, 778b5-6

210

GC 2, 336a32-33

145

Metaph. 3, 1003b7 12, 1071a15

210 145

PA 1, 640a18

210

Περὶ φιλοσοφίας fr. 8

Ph. 4, 215a14-15 8, 267a15-20

155 187 187

254

indices

Pol. 1, 1252b23-24 1, 1253a2-4 1, 1253a29-30 3, 1278b19 5, 1311b20-21

209 125 134 125 193

Pr. 28, 950a3-4

186

Protrept. fr. 7 fr. 9 Resp. 472b6-473a14 Top. 5, 128b17-18 6, 139b19-20 Athenaeus 1, 5f-6a 1, 6b 3, 104b 5, 220bc 6, 241e 7, 278ef 7, 280a 12, 546e 12, 546f 12, 547a 13, 588ab 13, 588a 13, 588b 13, 593bc

Carneiscus col. xxi, 7-9 Chariton 1,9,1-7 5,1,1

Chio 16,5

214

Cicero

158; 171 154

51; 94 202 51 155 165

187

ad Brut. 2,5,2

58

125 210

Arch. 26 28-30 30

187 101; 169 166

186 186 70 186 186 70 29; 92 200 29; 92; 127 29; 118; 200 156 155 119; 200 200

122; 124

Augustine civ. 5,20

188

ac. 1,6 1,38 2,11 2,106 2,135

Atticus fr. 3

8,7,7

70 32 188 188

Att. 1,18,1 5,11,6 7,2,4 13,31,3 14,17a,2 14,20,5 15,12,1 Cato 43 82 85 de orat. 1,1 3,63 3,64 div. 2,1-4 2,1 2,39 fam. 1,9,21 4,5,6 7,12,2 7,26,1 9,2,5 9,14,2 9,20,1

21 39 63 69 50 58 58 94; 197 101 166 50 69 66; 82; 201 52 51 125 50 171 58; 81; 107 93 51 50 50

indices 13,1 13,1,2-4 13,1,4 13,1,5 13,15,2 15,16,3

57 39 39 39 185 59

fin. 1,10 1,13 1,16 1,17 1,18 1,21 1,23-24 1,25 1,26 1,34-36 1,34-35 1,34 1,35 1,36 1,40-41 1,42-54 1,43-44 1,49 1,50 1,51 1,52-53 1,53 1,59 1,60 1,62 1,63 1,65 1,66 1,67 1,69-70 1,71 1,72 2,7 2,8 2,12 2,13 2,17 2,18 2,21 2,28

51 69 51 94 94 94 62 66 62; 155 22; 26 23 62; 63; 112 62; 63; 99; 112 110; 112 63 127 20; 69 103 124 124 23 123 69 69; 99 103 101 98 107 29 107 155 155 94; 197 69 118; 155 118 195 195 122 125

255 2,44 2,49 2,53 2,56 2,60sqq. 2,60 2,61 2,62 2,63-65 2,63-64 2,64 2,65 2,66 2,67 2,68 2,69 2,70 2,72-73 2,72 2,73 2,74-77 2,74 2,75 2,76 2,77 2,78 2,81 2,82 2,87sqq. 2,96 2,100 2,101 2,102 2,103 2,113 2,116 2,117 2,118 4,13 4,21-22 5,31 Lael. 34 84 leg. 1,39 1,41

63 66 124 62 110; 112 62 62 62 63 63 64 63 62 63; 110 100 70; 123 63 62 62 63; 123 67 65 118 65; 66 65 107 48; 66; 96; 120 107 101 116 115 115; 197 94; 115 115; 116 101 62; 110 62 63 94 66 104 50 50 56; 67 63

256 1,62 2,16 3,18 nat. deor. 1,4 1,7 1,43 1,62 1,63 1,72-73 1,72 1,86 1,93 1,110 1,113 1,120 1,123 2,162 3,3

indices 53 129 50 129 51 129 129 129 94 94 121 47; 94; 119; 194; 200 202 43; 94; 197 94 122 125 122

off. 1,19 1,69 3,1-4 3,39 3,62

202 55 50 124 185

Phil. 12,14

38; 57

Pis. 57 58 59 61 62 82 rep. 1,1 1,2-3 1,2 1,3 1,4-6 1,4 1,5-6 1,5 1,6 1,7-8 1,7

50 61 61 61 61 50 53; 111 53 202 51; 123 25; 54 21; 22; 53; 54 111 25 54; 67 55 55; 67

1,8 1,9 1,10 1,11 1,12 1,14 3,6 3,40 5,6 5,9 6,13 6,17 6,25 6,26

50 55; 56 37; 56 37; 56; 57 51; 52 50 50 50 50 50 101 145 50 101

Sest. 98 139

50 50; 67

Tusc. 1,10-11 1,10 1,14 1,27 1,32-34 1,34 1,35 1,48 1,82-111 1,91 1,92 1,102-108 1,109 2,8 3,3 3,37-38 3,44 3,50 3,51 4,7 5,73 5,89 5,93 5,103 5,104 5,108 5,117-118 5,119

162 220 100 171 101 187 171 162 163 101 171 171 171; 202 66; 118; 197 202 118 118 66 65; 67 66 20 66; 120 66 23 18 64 103 20

indices

Cicero, Q. Pet. 16

21

Clearchus fr. 57

186

Clement of Alexandria Strom. 2,21,130,8 2,23,138,6 4,22,21-22 5,9,58,1 6,2,24,10 6,2,31 7,8,50,3 Cleomedes 2,1

158 200 125 201 124 22 204 200

Cornutus ND 5 32 35

212 212 212; 216

Cyrillus of Alexandria Hom. Pasch. 1,1 2,7 26,1

206 206 206

Damascius In Phaed. 1,177

164

Democritus fr. 68 B 3 fr. 68 B 116 fr. 68 B 158

71 17 207

Demosthenes 20,87 23,119 23,163

171 193 193

257

Dio Cassius 36,45,1-2

113

Dio of Prusa 3,81 31,16-22 31,39 47,2 54,3

206 169 120 71 26

Diodorus Siculus 14,32,1-33,6

193

Diogenes Laertius 2,89 158 4,27 165 5,20 123 5,81 204 7,9 37 7,121 71; 73 7,171 96 7,175 187 7,180-181 71 7,202 70 8,31 167 9,36 18 9,63 18 9,64 18 10,3 197; 198 10,4 94; 200 10,5 200 10,6-7 119 10,6 45; 67; 93; 156; 200; 201 10,7 45; 200 10,8 94 10,10 76; 94; 121; 197; 198 10,11 66; 107; 120 10,13 94 10,16 115 10,18 94; 197; 198 10,20 107 10,22 116 10,23 32; 47; 200 10,25 196 10,26 198 10,27-28 198 10,27 71 10,28 47; 198

258

indices

10,117 29; 46; 47 10,118 32; 115; 197 10,119 18; 84; 103; 126 10,120 29; 36; 46; 47; 98; 114; 155; 194; 197 10,135 125 10,138 18; 127 Diogenes of Oenoanda 2, ii, 3-4 3, i, 10-13 3, iii, 5 – iv, 3 3, iv, 3-8 3, iv, 13 – v, 4 3, v, 8 – vi, 4 3, v, 14 – vi, 4 3, vi, 2-4 29, ii, 4 – iii, 3 32, ii, 11-12 33, vii, 11 – viii, 6 51, i, 5-12 56, i, 1-12 73, i, 3-8 112 NF 131, 1-6 NF 131, 9-11

22 68 34 19 34 19 189 30 20 34 115 25 67 162 22 20 25

EM 433.51-52 804.28-32

206 150

Epictetus 1,20,17-19 1,20,19 1,23,1-2 1,23,3-5 1,23,6 1,23,7-10 2,11,15 2,20,6-20 2,20,6 2,20,8-11 2,20,8 2,20,9 2,20,10 2,20,12-13 2,20,13 2,20,15-20

81 83; 188 81 81 81 81 134 82 125 82 82 188 82 82 187 83

2,20,27 2,23,20-22 3,7 3,7,2-18 3,7,2-9 3,7,11-14 3,7,17-18 3,7,19 3,7,21 4,7,15

80 81 83 83 81 124 83; 96 83 83 209

Epicurus Epist. ad Her. 37 38-39 39 59 62 70 77 78 79-80 80 81

35 142; 208 209; 220 212 212 212 149 156 156 208 149; 162

Epist. ad Men. 122 124-127 124 126 127 131 132 133

18; 66 163 101 101; 103; 163; 198 20 118; 120 20; 36; 127 121

Epist. ad Pyth. 85 87 90-96 104 113 114

35; 156 156 149 209 156 156

fr. [2Arr.] [34],25,22-23 [34],25,31 [59] [74] fr. [Us.] 8

19 19 35 40 18; 49; 120; 126

indices 9 15 18 19 27 58 61 68 70 87 106 107 108-110 117 119 121 122 125-127 128-138 130 132 133 138 140-142 141 143-145 146 151 152-155 156 158 163 169 177 178 181 182 183 187 188 192 194 204 208 209 210 211 213

37; 56; 73 103 124 84; 200 125 195 119 120 127 121 196 195 196 156 37 119; 200 116 196 196 107 35; 99 31; 78 116 196 94 200 94; 197 40 197 70 66; 120; 197 67; 156 121 40 94 200 107 107 67; 98; 134 30; 79 197 39; 100 99 34; 67; 108 67; 108 74 74 48; 116

259 217 218 221 227 227a 229a 229b 233 283 336-339 341 342 352 368 390 392 395 397 409 411 412 413 420 426 429 451 456 471 472 475 476 489 496 497 498 499 504 506 511 512 519 522 523 524 530 531 532 535

107; 197 115 18; 189 155 155 155 155 94 143; 210 163 162 149 129 122 122 149 125 103; 123; 124 29; 92 120 200 200 120 204 205 158 66 18; 189 66; 120 20 22 67 103 103 103 103 18; 127; 189 127 20 29; 127; 200 124 28 53; 81; 107; 125; 135 120 124 124 124 125

260 536 540 541 543 544 549 551 552 554 555 556 559 560 564 565 566 573 577 578 580 581 582 586 590 RS 1 2 5 6 7 11 12 13 14 17 19 20 21 25 28 29 34 35 39 40 SV 1

indices 29; 46 53 107 107 113; 204 23; 99 17; 53; 72; 81; 125; 163; 185 98; 190 36; 98 59; 98 35; 98; 99 25; 111 25; 111 36; 67; 114; 194 32; 197 197 29; 46; 98 36; 47 115 53 53 125 23 36 123 27; 54; 115; 123; 163 20 22; 25; 28; 59; 99; 112 23; 25; 28; 59; 60; 99; 112 156 156 156 28; 79; 108; 204 124 101 101 101 59; 98; 136; 202 46 20 124 124 29; 33 30 123

2 5 6 11 14 20 21 22 29 30 31 34 35 37 38 39 47 51 53 54 58 64 66 67 76 81

27; 54; 163 20 124 204 101; 163; 204 20 19; 36 101 33; 98; 108 163 163 46; 108 101 108 103 46 103; 200 36; 191 191 18; 189 33 18; 74; 99; 189 116 22; 30 64 23; 41; 108

Epimer. Hom. φ 16

150

Et. Gen. s.v. φώς

150

Et. Gud. s.v. φώς

150

Euripides Antiope fr. 193 fr. 194 fr. 227

17 17 17

Hel. 1060 1546

214 214

[incert. fab.] fr. 905

185

indices Hermarchus

Ion 595-647

17

IT 695-697

169

Or. 174-176

219

Philoctetes fr. 787

17; 71

70 94 122 124 122

Eustathius Ad Hom. Il. I, 623,4 II, 697,11-12

150 150

In Hom. Od. 391.42-44 392.19-20

216 216

Eutropius 1,20,5

201

Heraclides Ponticus fr. 95 98a 98b 98c 98d Heraclitus fr. 22 B 95

154 154 154 154 154 109

Heraclitus All. 23,11 34,6 74,2 74,6

fr. 34 Herodotus 1,32 1,197 7,133

26; 37; 68; 192 173 190 219

Hesiod

Eusebius PE 6,7,41 14,26,2 14,27,11 15,5,5-6 15,5,12

261

212 212 216 212

Op. 17

219

Th. 213 515-516 744-745

219 219 219

Hesychius s.v. ἔρεβος

219

Hieronymus Adv. Iovin. 1,48

200

Homer Il. 22,304-305 23,69-70 23,257-897 24,477-558

27 169 169 169

Od. 1,289-291 2,220-223 4,584 10,510 10,515 11,36-41 11,219 11,223-224 11,476 11,539 11,563-564 11,573 11,576-581 11,593-600 24,13

158 158 158 215 216 218 220 169 171 216 218 216 219 219 216

262

indices

Horace carm. 3,4,77-78 3,30 epist. 1,17,10 1,18,103

219 169 33; 163 33

Hyginus fab. 55 60,3

219 220

Hyperides Epit. 43

171

154

IG II2 1099.1-38 II2 1534.41

39 200

SEG 3,226 16,300.9

39 200

SIG 834

Ecl. 1

213

Fr. in Job 38

188

In Acta Apost. 3,5

213

In 1 Thes. 1,2,3 5,9,3

213 188

John Damascene

39

TAM 2.2, 910

195

Isaeus 2,36-37

169

Isidorus orig. 10,72

190

Isocrates 9,2 14,61 18,2 19,42

171 171 198 171

213

Julian ad Them. 255b-d

Inscriptions

193 198

John Chrysostom

In Transfig. 16

Iamblichus Protrept. 8

Iustinus 5,9,1-11 5,10,11

51

Lactantius inst. 3,17,23 3,17,42 3,25,7

94 81; 107; 162 155

Libanius Decl. 1,113 2,36

201 218

Livy 7,1,10

201

Longus 4,10 4,11

186 186

Lucian Apol. 5 Musc. enc. 8

185 82

indices Symp. 46 VH 2,5 2,6 2,13 2,14-15 2,14

Lucretius 1,41 1,117-119 1,140-142 1,149-214 1,215-264 1,215-216 1,935-950 2,6 2,7-10 2,11-13 2,15 2,16-19 2,730 3,59-86 3,70-71 3,70 3,72-73 3,79-82 3,83-86 3,356-357 3,417-1094 3,419 3,843-861 3,957-960 3,978-1023 3,984-994 3,992 3,995-1002 3,996-1002 3,996-997 3,998 3,999 3,1001-1002 3,1001 5,140-145 5,156-234 5,526-533 5,1106-1107

199 216; 217 216 216 217 216 37 36 114 142 142 142 33 22 30 21; 37 22 20 83; 198 20 22 37 22 103 22 163 163 83; 198 209 101 162 219 219 25; 220 37 21 34 25 34 25 149 139 156 26

263 5,1113-1135 5,1124 5,1125-1128 5,1129-1130 5,1132 5,1133-1134 5,1135 5,1143-1160 5,1143-1144 5,1154-1157 6,95 6,703-711

37 21; 22 21 31 21 22 34 26 68 124 36 156

Lycurgus In Leocrat. 136

171

Lysias 12,100

171

Macarius 5,47

33

Macrobius Sat. 1,17,1-70 1,17,3 1,17,8

145 145 145

Marcus Aurelius 4,19 4,33 8,18

170 169 211

Marinus Procl. 15.29-32

33

Maximus of Tyre 6,2 13,7 15,7

190 204 158

Menander Rhetor 2,414,20-21

171

Metrodorus fr. 25

20

264

indices

31 32 41 43 60 62

26; 111; 192 55; 111 34; 43; 64 35 29 200

test. 1 23

32 30

Monostich. Men. 457

185

Nepos

Pont. 1,2,111 1,5,5-6 2,2,98

171 205 171

trist. 3,4a,25 4,10,129-130

33 169

Papyri [exc. PHerc.] PGettyMus acc. 76.AI.27

196

POxy. 215 2447, fr. 38

196 215

Att. 21-22

103

Dion 10,2

202

De adul. [PHerc. 222] col. iv, 4-7

203

De bono rege col. xlii, 1 – xliii, 20

170

De Epic. [PHerc. 1232] col. xxviii, 12-15

24

Epam. 6,4 Thras. 1,2 3,2-3 Octavia 13 377-390

192 198 171 72

Olympiodorus In Phaed. 6,14 8,17

164 164

Origen Cels. 7,63 7,66

125 122

Ovid am. 1,15,41-42 1,8,51-52 3,15,20

169 204 169

met. 14,404 15,871-879

219 169

Philodemus

De Epic. [PHerc. 1289β] col. xxiv, 2-9 col. xxvi, 1-12 col. xxvii, 2-4 col. xxvii, 6-12 De lib. dic. fr. 9,3 fr. 15,6-10 fr. 16,5-7 fr. 36,1-4 fr. 40,1-14 fr. 41,1-8 fr. 42,1-6 fr. 44,1-11 fr. 47,2-3 fr. 49,1-7 fr. 51,2-4 fr. 53,3-12 fr. 55,1-6 fr. 61,1-12 fr. 75,7-8 fr. 76,1-6 fr. 79,1-4 col. ib, 5-6

23

47 46; 47 46 48 200 34 98 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 108 24

indices col. vb, 1-6 col. xviib, 6-13 col. xviiia, 1-9 col. xviiib, 1-3 col. xxb, 3-6 col. xxiia, 10-11 col. xxiib, 10-13 col. xxiiib, 12 – xxivb, 12

34 23 98 23 46 23 23 23

De morte col. xii, 11-15 101 col. xxii, 12-16 170 col. xxiii, 3-8 115 col. xxiv, 31 – xxv, 2 115 col. xxvii, 1-8 32 col. xxviii, 5-14 27 col. xxviii, 14-32 27 col. xxviii, 28-29 32 col. xxviii, 32-36 27; 170 col. xxviii, 36 – col. xxix, 2 27; 54 col. xxix, 2-15 27 col. xxx, 7 – xxxiii, 36 171 col. xxxiii, 15-23 54 col. xxxv, 1-5 25 col. xxxv, 34-37 169 col. xxxv, 37-39 169 col. xxxvi, 12-16 169 col. xxxvi, 17-23 170 col. xxxvi, 23-27 170 col. xxxvi, 27-31 170 col. xxxviii, 14-19 101 col. xxxix, 18-25 103 De oecon. col. xxiii, 9-18 col. xxiii, 18-22 De piet. col. 17,5-21 col. 19,1-15 col. 20,6-11 col. 26,5-12 col. 27,5-8 col. 28,8-28 col. 49,9-19 col. 51,3-13 col. 51,25-26 col. 51,27-28 col. 53,4 – col. 54,27 col. 59,2-18

30 30 122 121 121 121 121 121 122 122 94 198 29 26

265 col. 77a,7-14 col. 77a,14 – col. 77b,8

124 124

De sign. col. xxiii, 9

208

Hist. Acad. col. vi, 15-20

193

Πραγματεῖαι

col. xii, 1-9 44 col. xii, 10-11 44 col. xii, 12 44 col. xxv, 1 – col. xxxiii, 19 39 col. xxv, 2-3 204-205 col. xxv, 8-9 204-205 col. xxx, 13-16 40 col. xxxi, 11-16 40 col. xxxv inf. 40

Πρὸς τοὺς ––

col. v, 8-13 col. vi, 11-12

18 200

Rhet. II [PHerc. 1672] [L.A.] col. xxi, 36 - col. xxii, 5 col. xxii, 7-25 col. xxii, 18-19

23 21 21

Rhet. II [PHerc. 1674] [L.A.] col. xx, 20 - col. xxi, 11 col. xxvii, 16-19 col. xxxvi, 7-23 col. liv, 22-27

23 21 23 21

Rhet. III [Ham.] col. xli, 8-9 col. viia, 23-30 col. xiva, 30 – col. xva, 16 col. xva, 16-21 col. xva, 22-31

21 23 31 31 31

Rhet. IV [PHerc. 1007/1673] [S.] i, 209, col. xxviiia, 13 210, col. xxviiia, 17 21 Rhet. VIII i, 284, col. iii, 2-13 ii, 17, col. xxiii, 18-19 ii, 35, col. xxxviii, 8-12 ii, 51, fr. 37, 3-6 ii , 63, col. lvii, 11-16

23 21 24 38 38

Rhet. [lib. incert.] [S.] i, 226, fr. ii, 8-12

22

266

indices

i, 234, col. iv, 8-15 i, 234, col. iv, 17-19 i, 234, col. v, 6 235, col. v, 15 i, 238, col. viii, 14-17 i, 244, col. xiii, 8-15 i, 254, col. xxi, 3 255, col. xxi, 10 i, 259, col. xxiv, 33-39 i, 259, col. xxv, 1 – 260, col. xxv, 11 i, 383, col. cx, 2-7 ii, 140, fr. xi, 12-15 ii, 147, fr. iv, 4-17 ii, 151, fr. viii, 16-23 ii, 154, fr. xii, 5-15 ii, 155, fr. xiii, 9-19 ii, 157, fr. xvii, 3-8 ii, 158, fr. xix, 6 – 159, fr. xix, 22 ii, 158, fr. xix, 6-14 ii, 162, fr. xxvii, 7-14 ii, 208, col. vi, 9-16 ii, 209, col. vi, 19-28 ii, 209, col. vi, 28-30 ii, 224, col. xviii, 29-32 ii, 224, col. xix, 9-20 ii, 225, col. xix, 30-31 ii, 225, col. xx, 15-18 ii, 226, col. xxi, 15-19 ii, 227, col. xxi, 28-30 ii, 276, fr. x, 25-29 ii, 298, fr. iii PHerc. 463, fr. 13

25 24 25; 54 22 155 23 38; 57 124 57 29 25 25 23 31; 112 20 21 190 29 24 26; 56 24; 63 24 26 24 24 24 24 26 24 24

Philostratus VA 7,2 8,28

193; 202 33; 163; 198

Pindar fr. 129 129.4 129.5 129.6-7 130

215 216 216 216 219

O. 2,57ff 2,61ff 2,61-62 2,72-73 8,77-80 14,20-25

218 218 216 216 171 171

P. 5,98-103

171

Plato [& Corpus Platonicum] Ap. 29a 40c

164 165

Ax. 371cd 371c 371d 371e-372a 371e

216 216 216 220 219

Cra. 403a 404b

212 212

Def. 411a

210

Ep. 2, 311c 7, 326a

171 204

Grg. 462a 471e-472a 493b 516de 524b

195 134 212 219 211

Hp. Ma. 283b

185

Lg. 4, 721bc 6, 766a 9, 874e-875d 10, 886d 11, 926e-927a

169 125 123 145 171

Mx. 236de 248bc

171 171

indices

267

Pliny

Phd. 63c 80b 80d 80e-81a 81c 81de 81d 82b 85c 91b 107ab 107c 108bc

164 211 212 162 212 162 162 125 164 165 164 165 167

Phlb. 26d 54c 65e-66a

210 210 119; 200

nat. praef. 29 35,99 35,144 Pliny

Plt. 265b

208

epist. 1,17,4 3,7,14 3,16,6 5,5,4 5,8,2-3 6,10,4-5 6,16,1 7,20,2 7,33,1 8,14,6 8,18,12 9,14

Prm. 156a

210

paneg. 45,6

R. 2, 363cd 2, 369b 5, 476cd 6, 505a 6, 508a-509c 6, 509b 7, 539c 7, 540b 10, 600ab 10, 614e 10, 616b 10, 621a

216 135 146 160 145; 160 139; 202 195 126 193 167 167 216

Smp. 208cd

169

Tht. 153c

205

Ti. 55de 58e-59a 79a-80c 92c

204 187 187 145

200 200 200

173 169 169 169 169 169 169 169 169 201 201 169 201

Plutarch [& Corpus Plutarcheum] Moralia De lib. educ. 8A De aud. poet. 14EF 15B 16EF 17BC 17C 17DE 17EF 22C 37A

205 166 206 169 161 219 164 164 208 87; 91

De aud. 43D 48D

109 204

De ad. et am. 48F-49A 49B 54C 57A 58E

107 107 190 186 173

268 59B 59D 64C 66A

indices 146 108 108 108

De prof. in virt. 75D 76AB 76A 76DE 76F 78C 78E 79F-80A 81F-82F 81F-82B 82AB 82A 84B-85B 84B 85E-86A

91 95 91 191 204 109 190 202 104 190 108 107 95; 201 202 191

De cap. ex inim. 89D 90C 91B 91E

190 85 190 190

De am. mult. 94B 96B

108 190

De virt. et vit. 101B 101C

205 206

Cons. ad Apoll. 106F 107D-110E 107D 108E 109E 110A 111AB 116B 120B 120C 120DE 122A

149 165 165 164 211 103 101 208 166 215 164 205

De tuenda 129B

206

135B-D 135BC 135B 135C 136C

87; 189 131; 205 126 93; 120 205

Con. praec. 139C

146

Sept. sap. conv. 154C 155B 155F 158DE 158E

185 173 185 147 145

De sup. 164F-165A 164F 165A 166A 166F-167A 171A

122 86; 91; 122; 140 91 206 161 145

Reg. et imp. apophth. 180F 193A

185 191

Apophth. Lac. 211A

185

Mul. virt. 249B-D

172

Quaest. Rom. 265D 267D 268D 269B 271D 271E 274F 275E 281A 281B 281C 281F 282A 282BC 282C 283E 284DE 285B

146 146 145 208 146 146 146 146 146 213 146 146 146 148 145 146 145 146

indices 287B 288B 288DE 291A

146 146 204 146

De fort. Rom. 317AB 317A 317B

208 208 208

De Al. Magn. fort. 334A

193

Bellone an pace 345D 349DE 349F

193 193 193

De Is. et Os. 363F 365D 369A-383A 369A 369B 372A 372DE 374E 376F-377A 378A 382B 382E-383A 382F-383A 383A 384A De E 385BC 385B 386B 392E 393A 393DE 393D 393E 394AB 394A 394E De Pyth. or. 397A 397C 398A-C

146 147 122 86; 140 212 147 148 165 147 146; 147 208 212 145 212 206 144; 212 144; 212 144; 211 145; 147 146 146 146 146; 147 220 144; 148; 212 147 206 125 86

269 398E-399E 400D

86 145; 147; 148; 211

De def. or. 405A 414F 416D 419B-D 420BC 420B 423D 432F 433DE 433D 434C-F 434D 434F-435A 436F 437E

206 122 147 85 86 122 122 206 147 146 86 125 144; 211 145 206

An virt. doc. 439D

109

De virt. mor. 446E 446F 450A

123 91 161

De tranq. an. 465C-466A 465C 465F-466A 466E 468B 469E 476A 476B 477AB

135 91 59; 87; 98 195 190 145 205 166 205

De frat. am. 479C 484C 485E 486B 487D

135 190 190 190 94; 198

De am. prol. 495C 496C-E

128 190

De cur. 516E 517F

45 190

270

indices

518CD 518C

190 45

De cup. div. 527A

206

De se ipsum laud. 539E 539F 540AB 540B 542EF

131 131 94 190 193

De sera num. 545B 548A-C 548B 552F-553A 560A-561B 560AB 560B 560CD 560C 561A 561B 562CD 563C-E 563F 564B 564D 564F 566A 566E-567D 566F De fato 570D De genio Socr. 576E-577A 578A 589BC 589F 590F-591A 591B 591CD 592E 593A-594A 593B 594BC

Cons. ad ux. 610E 611D 611EF 611F 612AB

213 91; 165 221 137; 206 166

193

Quaest. conv. 642F 644F 653B-655D 654E-655D 654F 655C 655D 668C 673B 673C-674C 686B 693F 703A 707E 716D 717B 719A 721D 722D 722EF 725D 725E 726B 728A 728C 729EF 735A

87 109 119 133 133 204 122; 207 186 213 86 206 87 146; 206; 213 186 199 194 192 140 207 133; 207 205 147 185 83 133 190 94

203 185 146 165 213 137; 147 213 171 137 146 203

Amatorius 749E 751E 756B 759A 762A 764DE 764EF 766B 768A 770C-771C 771A

200 205 165; 212 206 165 145; 147; 148 221 206 190 215 215

206 165 185 193 165 172 100 169 165 137; 171 165 193 167 205; 213 167 213 159; 220 162; 220 161 219

indices

271

Maxime cum principibus 776F-777A 205 777A 194; 202; 205 777EF 131; 203 778C 113; 204

De Her. mal. 856AB 870E

193 214

Plac. philos. 900D-901A

206

Ad princ. iner. 780F 781B 781F

De facie 926C 941C 941F 942F 943DE 943D 944C 945C

206 145 146 216 161 137; 213 216 147

De prim. frig. 948F 953A 953B 954E 955C

212 212; 219 189 204 140

Aqua an ignis 957D 958E

205 206

An seni 783C 783D 786D 788B 789EF 791C 792A 796E 797A Praec. ger. reip. 798E 799A 799F-800A 803A 803F-804B 804C 806F-809B 806F-807D 807D 811B 814B 814C-E 816D 817EF 819B-D 821BC 821B 821C 822B 822C

147 122 146 20 193 20; 191; 200 204 146 125 204 195 192 125 20 21 203 203 203 21 57 21 87 198 21; 57 87 193 57 131 203 203 203 20

De unius 826F-827A

193

De vit. aer. 829C 830C

141 206

De soll. an. 961D

190-191

De esu 993A 993C-994B 994E 997E 998D-F 998D

185 190 145 91 166 166

Quaest. Plat. 1000E 1004D-1006B 1006F-1007A 1007A 1007CD 1007DE

195 187 145 145 145 145

De Stoic. rep. 1033AB 1033A 1033B-E 1033CD 1033C 1034C

96 95 75 70; 75 204 122

272 1035F-1037C 1043BC 1043B 1047C 1051E-1052B 1052B De comm. not. 1075A 1075E

indices 164 71 71 187 122 86 129 122

Non posse 1086D 97 1086F 191 1087C 127 1087D-1092D 120 1088B 200 1088E 205 1089AB 119 1089C 119; 200 1089D 120 1089EF 93 1090A 120 1090CD 124 1090D 120 1091A-1092D 136 1092A 120 1092BC 122 1092D-1096E 155 1092E 20 1093A 156; 158; 170; 171; 213; 220 1094B 194 1094D 155 1095C-F 95 1095F 200 1096F-1100D 95 1097A-1099F 113 1097AB 100 1097A 113 1097B 39; 202 1097CD 100; 107 1097C 25; 111 1097DE 119; 120; 200 1097D 197 1097EF 100 1097E 200 1098AB 191 1098A 191; 192 1098B 200

1098CD 34; 64; 111; 131 1098D 126; 205; 214; 221 1099AB 27; 100 1099BC 191 1099B 100 1099C 100 1099D 95; 116 1099F-1100A 23; 99 1100AB 94; 187 1100A 94; 197 1100BC 95 1100B 94 1100CD 118 1100C 94; 122; 221 1100D 34; 64; 111; 118; 122; 125; 131 1100E-1103E 122 1100E 205 1101B 122 1101C-1103B 122 1101DE 204 1101D 121; 129 1102B 122 1103A 93; 192 1103CD 171 1103E 210 1104A-1107C 165 1104A-1107A 99; 166 1104AB 166; 167 1104A 159 1104B-1105C 166 1104B 124; 167 1104CD 104 1104E-1105A 99 1104EF 100 1104E 99; 166; 171; 213; 220 1104F-1105A 100 1104F 100 1105A 171 1105B 216 1105C-1106A 166 1105C 137 1105E 48; 116; 167; 194 1106A 167 1106B 171 1106D 104 1106EF 171 1106E 221 1106F 99

indices 1107A 1107B 1107C

221 100 100

Adv. Colot. 1107E 96; 196 1108B 90 1108C 126; 127; 208 1108D 90; 97; 126 1108EF 94 1109E 195 1110E-1112C 140 1110F 140 1111B 122 1111C 140 1112A 143; 210 1112C 122 1115C 189 1117B 94 1117DE 107 1117D 195 1117E 98 1118B 117 1119C 122 1119EF 122 1119E 149; 189 1120C 91 1122A-D 117 1122B-D 134 1122E 120 1123A 120; 122; 125; 145; 149 1124D-1127E 96 1124DE 123 1124D 26; 31; 68; 122; 123 1124E 122; 123; 200 1125C 35; 36; 96; 98; 99 1125D-F 96; 122 1125DE 129 1125D 34; 64; 111; 129; 131; 192 1125E 129 1125F 187 1126A-F 110 1126A-E 96 1126BC 202 1126C 39; 45; 47; 193; 202 1126EF 39; 96; 100 1127A-C 96 1127AB 24; 111; 191

273 1127A 1127BC 1127B 1127C 1127DE 1127D

49; 96 111; 198 26; 192 55 96; 126 29; 124; 125

De lat. viv. 1128A-C 180; 185 1128A 88; 90; 185 1128BC 88; 92; 93; 187 1128B 88; 92; 111; 160; 162; 185; 213; 221 1128C-1129A 180; 188 1128CD 88; 104; 207 1128C 88; 93; 99; 103; 104; 131; 187; 191; 198 1128D-F 88 1128DE 106; 130 1128D 88; 105; 106; 110; 112; 113; 130; 162; 189; 190; 201; 202; 203; 214; 221 1128E 88; 106; 190 1128F-1129A 88; 113 1128F 88; 91; 110; 111; 160; 162; 185; 202; 203; 221 1129A-D 181; 199 1129AB 118 1129A 67; 88; 116; 163; 173; 196; 201; 202; 204; 213; 219; 221 1129BC 88; 130; 160; 162; 201; 221 1129B 20; 45; 88; 119; 120; 130; 157; 161; 162; 199; 202; 221 1129CD 88; 131; 204 1129C 131; 133; 160; 162; 176; 201; 207; 209; 221 1129DE 88; 133; 149; 181; 205 1129D 88; 132; 157; 162; 202; 204; 221 1129E-1130C 182; 207 1129EF 138; 161 1129E 88; 133; 162; 206 1129F-1130A 142; 155; 160 1129F 88; 139; 141; 149; 151; 157; 207; 208; 209; 212 1130AB 88; 150; 213 1130A 88; 143; 144; 148; 149; 157; 169; 207; 210; 212; 220

274

indices

1130BC 1130B

158; 162; 214 88; 100; 154; 191; 213; 219; 221 1130C-E 88; 182; 215 1130CD 161; 217 1130C 88; 149; 159; 169; 171; 215; 219; 221 1130D 88; 149; 161; 162; 199; 218 1130E 88; 162; 199; 202; 219; 220; 221 fr. 101 120 122-127 123 129 134-138 134 143 148 157, n° 5 175 177 178 179, n° 8 190 194a 194c 200 202 213

145 119; 133 216 163; 211 109 191 186 109 190 145 172 104; 137; 221 104; 136; 165; 167; 206; 213; 216 142 145; 147 211 211 145 146; 194 145

Lamprias catalogue 42 45 52-53 69a 70 80 81 82 91 123 129 133 143 148

163 164 204 86 86 86 85 86 86 216 86 86 86 86

155 159 177 178 209 210 226

86 86 164 86 136 117 164

Lives Aem. 2,1 34,1-2

194 172

Ages. 27,4

192; 203

Agis 2,1

131; 203

Alc. 13,1

130

Alex. 31,6 53,2

213 185

Arat. 4,1-9,2 54,3

193 190

Arist. 3,2 6,2 8,2-9,2

219 122 201

Art. 18,1 29,7

146 145

Brut. 12,3 24,3 37,2

38 130 206

Cam. 1,1 20,4 22,1-30,3 31,1-32,3

201 206 201 201

Cic. 3,2 4,2 40,4 42,2

50 50 173 198

indices

275

Cim. 2,2 2,5

172 172

Comp. Arist. et Ca. Ma. 2,1 5,3

Marc. 4,4 6,6

129 145

201 201

Comp. Cim. et Luc. 1,2 1,3 1,7

Nic. 19,4 21,7

146 213

216 87 95

Comp. Pel. et Marc. 1,3

193

Comp. Sol. et Publ. 1,1-2

173

Cor. 4,3 10,4 13,1 38,3

191 190 219 206

Num. 1,1-3 8,4-10 11,1-2 12,1 14,2-3 18,1-2 20,4 22,2-3 22,4

194 194 194 208 194 145 205 194 194

Demetr. 27,3

190

Dion 27,2 29,1-2 32,2 36,1 50,2

Pel. 4,2 26,1 33,5 35,7

190 192 172 193

145 202 130 172 145

Per. 1,2 8,2 10,6

213 85 190

Phil. 1,3

193

Phoc. 2,4

147

Pomp. 28,3 30,6 31,1

125 113 113

Eum. 11,3

46,3

132; 205

Fab. 5,1

204

Galba 26,4

145

Luc. 30,2

145

Lyc. 10,3 16,1 31,2

145 219 192

Lys. 2,1 27,2-4

95 193

Mar. 12,3

219

Pyrrh. 2,3 8,4 20,3-4 20,3

101

213 172 87; 122 98

Rom. 15,5 28,7

146 162

Sol. 27,1-7

173

276

indices

Them. 4,4 7,3 12,1-15,2 26,1

201 201 201 130

Tim. 1,1

202

Polyaenus fr. 15 Polybius 10,22,2 10,22,3

70 193 193

Marc. 27 28 31

216

Schol. in Pind. N4, 32

214

Scriptor Epic. incert. PHerc. 176 fr. 5, col. x, 1-8 fr. 5, col. xi, 6 - xii, 13 fr. 5, col. xv, 2-4 fr. 5, col. xv, 4-5 fr. 5, col. xv, 5-9 fr. 5, col. xv, 9-12 fr. 5, col. xxiv, 4-13

46 47 47 47 47 47 70

Seneca

Porphyry Abst. 1,7,3 1,8,2 1,8,3 1,8,4 1,9,3 1,10,2-4 1,10,2 1,10,3 1,10,4-11,1 1,12,2

Schol. in Hom. Od. 10,510

124 26; 68; 192 123 123 124 68 26; 68; 192 37 68 189 18 22 18

Proclus in Euc. prol. 2

193

in R. I, p. 200.21-22

193

Theol. Plat. 6,12

145

Schol. in Aristoph. Plut. 431

219

Schol. in Hom. Il. 9,63c

204

benef. 4,2,1 4,4,1 4,13,1-2 4,13,1 4,13,2 4,30,4 clem. 1,8,1 1,8,4 dial. 2,14,4 2,16,1-3 5,41,2 6,25,2-3 7,9,1 7,13,1-2 7,13,2-3 7,19,1 8,1,4 8,1,5 8,2,1-2 8,2,1 8,3,2-4 8,3,2-3 8,3,2 8,3,5 8,4,1-2 8,6,1 8,6,2-4

77 76 75 76; 77 77 77 79 79 76 74 202 171 127 74 48 103 72; 73 75 75 73; 75 73 37; 73 56; 71 75 73 76 75

indices 8,6,3-5 8,6,4-5 8,7,1-3 8,8,1-4 8,8,1 9,1,10 9,3,2-6 9,3,3-6 9,3,3 9,3,6 9,3,7 9,4,1-8 9,4,7-8 9,4,8 9,7,2 10,14,1-2 10,14,1 10,18,1-19,2 10,18,1 10,18,2 10,19,1-2 11,5,2 epist. 2,6 3,1 6,5 7,11 7,12 8,1-6 8,1 11,8 12,11 14,10 14,14 14,18 16,7 18,9 19,1-2 19,1 19,2 19,3-4 19,10-12 21,3 21,9 22 22,1 22,3

73 75 74; 75 73 73 75 78 75 75 79 76 78 75 78 75 72 75 72 75 76 75 171 20 21 201 34; 67; 108 74 75 72; 75 74 74 29; 79 75 67 74 66; 120; 197 75 72; 78 79 79 74 35; 99 74; 80 78 72; 78 72; 78

277 22,5-6 22,8 24,18 24,22 24,23 24,26 25,5 25,6 28,9 29,11 32,1 33,2 33,8 36,1 36,2 52,2 52,3-4 52,4 55 55,3 55,4 55,5 55,7 56,11-12 66,47 68,1-3 68,1 68,2 68,5 68,6 68,8 68,10 70,8 73,6 79,13-18 79,15 79,16 79,17 81,11 82,3-4 83,1 90,35 92,6 92,25 94,27-28 94,43 97,13 97,15

31; 72; 78 78 121 103 103 102 74 108 28 74 74 74 77 77 76 106 74 197 77 77 77; 215 76 77 74 74 79 75 73 79 74 74 72; 75 103 76 202 30; 79 35 79 74 75; 215 74 76 200 74 32 32 124 124

278 105,1-4 120,12 fr. 45

indices 29 73 200

nat. 4A, praef. 3 4A, praef. 20

72 72

Thy. 393-403

72

219 190

Sextus Empiricus M. 1,1 1,3-4 6,27

155 94 155

Simonides Epigr. 9

171

Sophocles El. 356

171

[incert. fab.] fr. 864

204

Stobaeus 1,49,61 3,17,33 3,19,8 4,1,143 4,4,26 4,16,18 4,20a,31 4,52,48-49 4,58

216 200 193 124 29 109 70 136 170

Strabo 3,3,7 16,1,20

219 216 33 33 186 186

Suetonius

Servius Aen. 6,404 12,395

Suda I, 453.16-19 III, 110.22-23 III, 228.4-7 IV, 324.3-6 IV, 728.27 IV, 729.11-16

190 190

gramm. 8,1-2

199

Nero 35,5

72

SVF 1,28 1,199 1,271 1,481 1,499 1,553 1,605 2,978 2,1126 3,691 3,697 3,702 3,703 3,704 3,709 3,720 3,749 3, Diog. 33 3, Diog. 115 3, Diog. 124 3, Diog. 125

71 202 71; 73 187 145 70 96 70 122 71 71; 73 70; 75 71 71 70 70 91 145 24 24 24

Syrianus In Hermog. Π. Στάσ. p. 103.3-4

188

Tacitus ann. 14,53-56 14,56 15,45

72 79 72; 79

indices Valerius Maximus 4,1, ext. 4

Terentius Eun. 264

185

Themistius Or. 26, 324a

81; 125

Theodoretus of Cyr De prov. 1,20

213

In Is. 18,58,8

213

Theognis 237-254 973-974 1216

169 218 216

Theon Prog. 8

Virgil Aen. 4,26 6,404 6,595-600 6,616

218; 219 218 219 220

georg. 4,471-472

218

Xenocrates fr. 215 263 Xenophanes fr. 21 B 1.13

200

HG 1,7,20 2,4,2-43 2,4,43

213

Mem. 1,1,10

Tyrtaeus fr. 12,31

198

145 145 201

Xenophon

Theophilus of Antioch Ad Autolyc. 1,6

279

169

219 193 198 26

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