Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy

Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy

Studies in Philo of Alexandria Edited by

Francesca Calabi and Robert Berchman Editorial Board

Kevin Corrigan (Emory University) Louis H. Feldman (Yeshiva University, New York) Mireille Hadas-Lebel (La Sorbonne, Paris) Carlos Lévy (La Sorbonne, Paris) Maren Niehoff (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem) Tessa Rajak (University of Reading) Roberto Radice (Università Cattolica, Milano) Esther Starobinski-Safran (Université de Genève) Lucio Troiani (Università di Pavia)

VOLUME 5

Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy Edited by

Francesca Alesse

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2008

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Philo of Alexandria and post-Aristotelian philosophy / edited by Francesca Alesse. p. cm. -- (Studies in philo of Alexandria ; 5) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-16748-3 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Philo, of Alexandria. I. Alesse, Francesca. II. Title. III. Series. B689.Z7P45 2008 181’.06–dc22 2008014096

ISSN 1543-995x ISBN 978 90 04 16748 3 Copyright 2008 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Francesca Alesse

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Philo and Hellenistic Doxography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 David T. Runia Philo and post-Aristotelian Peripatetics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 Robert W. Sharples Moses Against the Egyptian: the anti-Epicurean Polemic in Philo. . 75 Graziano Ranocchia La conversion du scepticisme chez Philon d’Alexandrie. . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Carlos Lévy Philo on Stoic Physics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Anthony A. Long Philo and Stoic Ethics. Reflections on the Idea of Freedom . . . . . . . . . 141 Roberto Radice Philo of Alexandria on Stoic and Platonist Psycho-Physiology: The Socratic Higher Ground . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 Gretchen Reydams-Schils Philo of Alexandria and the Origins of the Stoic ΠΡΟΠΑΘΕΙΑΙ . . . 197 Margaret Graver Philo and Hellenistic Platonism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 John Dillon Towards Transcendence: Philo and the Renewal of Platonism in the Early Imperial Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Mauro Bonazzi Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Index Locorum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Index of Ancient Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287 Index of Modern Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The publication of this volume has benefited from a contribution from the Goren-Goldstein Foundation, Switzerland, and the University of Milan. For this I wish to express my deepest gratitude to Prof. Enrico I. Rambaldi Feldman. My thanks also go to Prof. Ronald Polansky, Editor of Ancient Philosophy, who authorised the reprint of the article by Prof. Gretchen Reydams-Schils; to Prof. Verity Harte, Editor of Phronesis, who authorised the reprint of the article by Prof. Margaret Graver. My heart-felt gratitude goes naturally to all those who have supported and encouraged this project with their advice and suggestions, such as Prof. Francesca Calabi, Prof. Michael Erler, Prof. Tullio Gregory, Prof. Carlos Lévy. Finally, I am grateful to the friends and colleagues at the “Istituto per il Lessico Intellettuale Europeo”, Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche, for their help in preparing this volume, and for the spirit of collaboration which they have all demonstrated: Michele Alessandrelli, M. Cristina Dalfino, Delfina Giovannozzi, Annarita Liburdi, Diana Quarantotto, Luca Simeoni.

INTRODUCTION

Francesca Alesse

Preliminary remarks This volume is the result of a project concerning the place held by the philosophy of the Hellenistic age, or post-Aristotelian philosophy— from Theophrastus to Eudorus of Alexandria—in Philo’s philosophical and exegetical works. This appears as part of a much broader and extremely complex issue, that of the relationship between Philo’s corpus and Greek philosophical traditions. It inevitably touches another important area of Philonic studies, that of the role played by this outstanding representative of the Jewish intellectual community in Alexandria in favouring the encounter between Greek philosophy and Scripture and exploiting the Greek philosophical traditions as instruments of Biblical interpretation.1 Interest in the relation of Philo to Hellenistic or post-Aristotelian philosophical schools and traditions is by no means recent, as is demonstrated by the seminal works of, for instance, Hans von Arnim, Paul Wendland, Emile Bréhier and Max Pohlenz;2 indeed, the presence of 1 Just to mention the most recent and comprehensive studies on Philo’s acquaintance with Greek cultural and philosophical traditions and his use of them as exegetical instruments: V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie: son caractère et sa portée. Observations philologiques (Leiden 1977); R. Goulet, La philosophie de Moïse: essai de reconstruction d’un commentaire philosophique préphilonien du Pentateuque (Paris 1987); R. Radice, Platonismo e creazionismo in Filone di Alessandria (Milan 1989); D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986); C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le langage de la philosophie. Actes du colloque international organisé par le Centre d’études sur la philosophie hellénistique et romaine de l’Université de Paris XII–Val de Marne (Créteil, Fontenay, Paris 26–28 octobre 1995), (Turnhout 1998). See also The Ancestral Philosophy. Hellenistic Philosophy in the Second Temple Judaism, essays of David Winston, ed. by G.E. Sterling (Providence 2001), chapter 4, and G.E. Sterling, “The Jewish Philosophy: the Presence of Hellenistic Philosophy in Jewish Exegesis in the Second Temple Period”, in C. Backos (ed.), Ancient Judaism in its Hellenistic Context (Leiden–Boston 2005), 131–153. 2 H. von Arnim, Quellenstudien zu Philo von Alexandreia, II: Philo und Aenesidem, Berlin 1888; P. Wendland, Philos Schrift über die Vorsehung (Berlin 1892); Philo und die kynisch-

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topics and technical terms from the Sceptical tradition as well as the numerous, apparently certain traces of Stoic philosophy, have been objects of research and debate for a long time. One of the main critical problems has been the identification of Philo’s sources, direct or indirect. The well-known thesis advanced by Hans von Arnim that Philo’s list of Sceptical tropes, in De ebrietate, depends more or less directly on Aenesidemus, to whom should also be ascribed the ‘Heraclitism’ characterizing Philo’s exposition of the tropes, was questioned and rejected by J.-P. Dumont3 and U. Burkhard;4 a Stoic and particularly Posidonian background has often been supposed, given the numerous hints of Stoic metaphysics, psychology and ethics that can be found in Philo’s exegetical treatises, and considering the great number of Philonic extracts in von Arnim’s collection Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta.5 On the other hand, much interest has been raised by the position taken by the Academy of late Hellenism and one of its most important representatives, Antiochus of Ascalon: Willy Theiler6 sustained, as a general approach to the problem of Philo’s sources, that much of

stoische Diatribe (Berlin 1895); “Eine doxographische Quelle Philos”, Sitzungsberichte der Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin (1897), 1074–1079; E. Bréhier, Les idées philosophiques et religieuses de Philon d’Alexandrie (Paris 1908, 19252, 19503); P. Barth–A. Goedeckemeyer, Die Stoa (Stuttgart 19415); M. Pohlenz, “Philo von Alexandreia”, Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen 5 (1942), 409–487, repr. in Kleine Schriften, ed. by H. Dörrie (Hildesheim 1966), vol. 1, 306–383; P. Boyancé, “Études philoniennes”, Revue des Etudes Grecques 76 (1963), 64–110; see also W. Theiler, “Philon von Alexandria und der Beginn des kaiserzeitlichen Platonismus”, in K. Flasch (ed.), Parousia. Studien zur Philosophie Platons und zur Problemgeschichte des Platonismus. Festgabe für J. Hirschberger (Frankfurt 1965), 199–218. More recent surveys in A. Terian, “A Critical Introduction to Philo’s Dialogues”, in ANRW II 21.1 (Berlin–New York 1984), 272–294, and D. Winston, “Philo’s Ethical Theory”, ibidem, 372–416. 3 J.-P. Dumont, Le Scepticisme et le phénomène. Essai sur la signification et les origines du Pyrrhonisme (Paris 1972). 4 U. Burkhard, Die angebliche Heraklit-Nachfolge des Skeptikers Aenesidem (Bonn 1973). 5 See E. Zeller, Die Philosophie der Griechen in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung (Leipzig 19235), vol. 3.2, 385 ff.; H. von Arnim, Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta (Leipzig 1905), vol. 1, XIX; A. Schmekel, Forschungen zur Philosophie des Hellenismus (Berlin 1938), 527 f.; P. Barth–A. Goedeckmeyer, Die Stoa, cit., 232–242; I. Heinemann, Poseidonios metaphysische Schriften (Breslau 1921–1928); M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa. Geschichte einer geistigen Bewegung (Göttingen 19643), vol. 1, 369 ff.; 2, 180 ff.; H. Leisegang, s.v. “Philo”, RE, XX 1 (1941), 1–50; contra, K. Reinhardt, Kosmos und Sympathie. Neue Untersuchungen über Poseidonios (München 1926). 6 In L. Cohn–L. Heinemann–M. Adler–W. Theiler, Philon von Alexandria. Die Werke in deutscher Übersetzung, Bd. 6. (Breslau–Berlin 1938), ad locc., and “Philon von Alexandria und der Beginn des kaiserzeitlichen Platonismus”, cit.

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the philosophical vocabulary in his works might actually be derived from Antiochus, partly through Eudorus of Alexandria. Followed by G. Luck,7 he suggested Antiochus as the main source in Mut. 2 (for the Aristotelian idea of μεστης), 4 (συνεργν), 98 (Stoic εφυα), 211 (προϋπρχειν), 223 (πσπασμα), 260 (ατογενς); Somn. 1.30 (νδηλεχς); Opif. 146 (πσπασμα). P. Boyancé8 proposed to interpret Mut. 179 (for the theme of the ‘flight of mind’), Opif. 71 (the ν"ουσιασμς of the intellect contemplating the intelligible forms), Her. 301 (God as a “charioteer and pilot” of the universe), Abr. 272 (human soul as κυβερντης) and others, as telling examples of the exegetical tradition of Plato’s Phaedrus inaugurated by the post-Platonic Academy and particularly encouraged by Antiochus; the French scholar also traced the arithmological theories of De opificio back to the influence exerted on Philo by Eudorus.9 In the last few decades there has been a great advance in inquiries into Classic and Hellenistic philosophy in the context of philosophical and doxographical literature, especially that dating from the late Republican and early Imperial age. Thanks to this methodical approach it has been possible to point out different procedures and strategies in the reception and diffusion of philosophical doctrines in the late Hellenistic age, so that fresh attention to the phenomenon of coexistence and combination of ‘traditions’ has been increasing and gradually replacing the interest in ‘individual sources’.10 At the same time, some recent studies on Philo have considered the progress achieved in

7 Der Akademiker Antiochos (Bern–Stuttgart 1953), 26 ff., 29 n. 1, 64 f. In H.J. Mette, “Zwei Akademiker Heute: Krantor von Soloi und Arkesilaos von Pitane”, Lustrum 26 (1984), and “Philon von Larissa und Antiochos von Askalon”, Lustrum 28 (1986), there is no mention of Philo among the sources, nor in the commentary. 8 “Sur l’exégèse hellénistique du Phèdre (Phèdre p. 246c)”, in Miscellanea di studi alessandrini in memoria di A. Rostagni (Turin 1963), 45–53. 9 “Études Philoniennes”, cit., 99–105. 10 As is well outlined by David Runia, in the opening chapter of this volume, it is essentially to Jaap Mansfeld’s credit that our schemes of reading ancient philosophical texts have been modified, starting with The Pseudo-Hippocratic Tract ΠΕΡΙ %ΕΒΔΟΜΑΔΩΝ, ch. 1–11 and Greek Philosophy (Assen 1971), in which, incidentally, much attention is already devoted to Philo; fundamental contributions for the understanding of Philo’s work in this critical perspective are: “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture: Philo’s Exegetical Strategies”, in J. Dillon–A.A. Long (eds.), The Question of ‘Eclecticism’. Studies in Later Greek Philosophy (Berkeley 1988), 70–102; “Doxography and Dialectic: the Sitz im Leben of the Placita”, ANRW II 36.4 (Berlin–New York 1990), 3056–3229; Heresiography in Context: Hippolytus’ Elenchos as a Source for Greek Philosophy (Leiden–New York–Köln 1992), partic. 312 ff.; for a general evaluation, see D.T. Runia, in this volume, 16–21.

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the conceptual interpretation of Hellenistic philosophy and the analysis of ancient doxographical literature.11 There seem to be good reasons to attempt a more comprehensive overview of the presence of Hellenistic philosophy in Philo’s treatises, providing essays on both passages containing explicit quotations of philosophers and schools, and passages revealing topics and technical terms which may be related to one or more philosophical traditions of the Hellenistic period. Focusing the passages in which Philo reports theories explicitly attributed to schools or philosophers of the Hellenistic age should supply more detailed knowledge of Philonic evidence, highlighting its possible novelty value and originality in comparison with other evidence on the same subject. The most remarkable cases of explicit quotations of Hellenistic philosophers and doctrines may be considered: the long report of proofs in favour of the eternity of the world, in De aeternitate mundi, and representing Theophrastus’, Critolaus’, Diogenes of Babylon’s, Panaetius’ and Boethus of Sydon’s standpoints, and sometimes their extensive arguments; the reference, in the same treatise, to Chrysippus’ use of the so-called ‘growing argument’ (Aet. 48–51 = SVF 2.397); the mention of Epicurean doctrines in Prov. 1.50, Post. 2, Aet. 8, and ‘Pythagorean’ theories in Opif. 100, Aet. 12, QG 3.49e. The label ‘Stoics’ and the names of some Stoics appear extensively in De aeternitate, while properly Stoic technical terms, such as +γεμονικν, προκοπ, or προκπτων, are used in various manners, although not always in conformity with an ‘orthodox’ Stoic viewpoint; the term σκεπτικς can be found, e.g., in Congr. 52, Fug. 209, QG 3.33, apparently referring to a faction or group of intellectuals.12 But even in the absence of explicit quotations, scholars have often realized that some of Philo’s arguments and his lexicon are peculiar to philosophical traditions, including the post-Aristotelian ones, par11 See D.T. Runia, “Philo of Alexandria and the Greek Hairesis-Model”, Vigiliae Christianae, 53 (1999), 117–147; “The Beginnings of the End: Philo of Alexandria and Hellenistic Theology”, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden 2002), 281–316; J. Dillon, “Cosmic Gods and Primordial Chaos in Hellenistic and Roman Philosophy: the Context of Philo’s Interpretation of Plato’s Timaeus and the Book of Genesis”, in G.H. van Kooten (ed.), The Creation of Heaven and Earth. Re-Interpretation of Genesis I in the Context of Judaism, Ancient Philosophy, Christianity and Modern Physics (Leiden–Boston 2005), 97 ff. 12 On the presence of the label σκεπτικς, which Carlos Lévy discusses in this volume, see also: K. Janáˇcek, “Das Wort σκεπτικς in Philons Schriften”, Listy Filologické 102 (1979), 65–68; H. Tarrant, Scepticism or Platonism? The Philosophy of the Fourth Academy (Cambridge 1985), 23 f.; R. Bett, Pyrrho, His Antecedents and His Legacy (Oxford 2000), 148.

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ticularly in his exegetical treatises. Such references are very problematic as in these cases Philo’s use of philosophical theories and technical terms is normally aimed at revealing the allegorical or symbolic meaning of passages from the Bible and may have nothing to do with the original doctrine from which either the theory or the term is derived: just to confine our examples to Hellenistic philosophy, we should consider Philo’s celebrated description of Sceptical tropes—but without the word ‘trope’—in Ebr. 169–205, while explaining the symbolic senses of wine; and his introduction of the Stoic notion of ti in the interpretation of manna, in Leg. 3.175 = SVF 2.334. Sometimes Philo gives the technical term a modified meaning; at other times he conflates, in the same context, doctrines and terminologies which had different philosophical origins (as in the case of arguments taken from the Hellenistic Academy and Pyrrhonian tradition),13 while the allusions to the Stoic theory of the principles (ρχα.) are increasingly recognized as the effect of an act of ‘appropriation’ by the Hellenistic Academy, involving Philo as well as other authors of the same period.14 An inquiry drawing on the presence of post-Aristotelian philosophical lexicon in Philo should also advance our knowledge of the diffusion of Hellenistic philosophy and doxography from the late Republican age to the early Christian period, as suggested by Philo’use of such characteristically Epicurean locutions as καταστεματικ/ +δον, in Leg. 3.160, π0ντρωσις in Leg. 3.140–141, γαργαλισμς in Sacr. 26, Deter. 110, Spec. 3.10–11, 4.100; Leg. 3.160;15 or by such expressions relating the Stoic-

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C. Lévy has particularly highlighted this aspect of Philo’s modus operandi: see “Le ‘scepticisme’ de Philon d’Alexandrie: une influence de la Nouvelle Académie?”, in A. Caquot, M. Hadas-Lebel, J. Riaud (eds.), Hellenica et Judaica. Hommage à Valentin Nikiprowetzky (Leuven–Paris 1986), 29–41 and “Deux problèmes doxographiques chez Philon d’Alexandrie: Posidonius et Enésidème”, in A. Brancacci (ed.), Philosophy and Doxography in the Imperial Age (Florence 2005), 79–102. 14 See H.J. Krämer, Platonismus und hellenistische Philosophie (Berlin–New York 1971), 108–122, F.H. Sandbach, The Stoics (London 1975), 74 and Aristotle and the Stoics (Cambridge 1985), 31–37; D.N. Sedley, Chrysippus on Psychophysical Causality, in J. Brunschwig– M.C. Nussbaum (eds.), Passions and Perceptions. Studies in Hellenistic Philosophy of Mind (Cambridge 1993), 325; Stoic Physics and Metaphysics, in K. Algra–J. Barnes–J. Mansfeld– M. Schofield (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge 1999), 385, and The Origins of Stoic God, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath, cit., 41–83; A.A. Long, Theophrastus and the Stoa, in J.M. van Ophuijsen–M. van Raalte (eds.), Theophrastus. Reappraising the Sources (New Brunswick–London 1998), 377. 15 See C. Lévy, “Philon et l’épicurisme”, in M. Erler (ed.), Epikureismus in der späten Republik und der Kaiserzeit (Stuttgart 2000), 122–136.

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Academic epistemological debate, as κατληπτος, in Leg. 1.20; 2.65 (καταλπτως … κα1 συνκατα"0τως); Cher. 97; Deter. 89, Heres, 132, 209, QG 2.54 (2δηλον … κατληπτον); μυδρς in Opif. 65, 141, 145, Leg. 3.111, Post. 118, Somn. 1.116, κρδαντος in Post. 25, 122 (β0βαιον … κρδαντον), Conf. 87, Mut. 135, Abr. 269 (σφαλ3 κα1 κρδαντον).16 Nor are the traces of Pythagorean tradition confined to the explicit references to ‘Philolaus’ (Opif. 100 = T2 Thesleff), ‘Ocellus Lucanus’ (Aet. 12 = T1 Thesleff) and ‘Pythagoreioi’ (QG 3.49e), as has been remarked since E. Bréhier and E. Goodenough.17 Both H. Thesleff and B. Centrone pointed out a good number of ethical and religious conceptions and metaphors which might well be taken from the pseudoPythagorean literature flourishing in the Hellenistic age.18

The present volume The essays collected offer an examination of the topics outlined above, with particular attention to new historiographical perspectives on Hellenistic philosophy and lexical problems. The book is arranged following the chronological sequence of the schools, but providing a range of basic subjects in the case of Stoicism and of chronological phases in the case of the Academy and the history of Platonism. In the opening chapter by David T. Runia, “Philo and Hellenistic Doxography”, the author promises an inquiry aimed at investigating what Philo knew of Hellenistic doxography and evaluating his capacity to exploit the doxographical material for his own main purpose, the allegorical explanation of Scripture. But Runia’s essay does much more 16 The various and particular occurrences of μυδρς in Plato (see Resp. 533d, Theaet. 195a, Soph. 250a, Tim. 49a) may have originated a ‘sceptical’ reception of this term, as emerges from Sext. M. 7.171–172, 258, Eus. PE XI 11. 4. On the relation between κρδαντος and the Sceptical tradition, see H.W. Ausland, “On the Moral Origin of the Pyrrhonian Philosophy”, Elenchos, 10 (1989) 392–397 and notes. 17 E. Bréhier, Les idées philosophiques et religieuses de Philon d’Alexandrie, cit.; E. Goodenough, “A neo-Pythagorean Source in Philo Judaeus”, Yale Classical Studies, 3 (1932), 115–164. See also H.R. Moehring, Arithmology as an Exegetical Tool in the Writings of Philo of Alexandria, in “Seminar Papers of the Society of Biblical Literature” (Missoula 1978), vol. 1, repr. in J.P. Kenny (ed.), The ‘School of Moses’. Studies in Philo and Hellenistic Religion (Atlanta 1995), 141 ff. 18 H. Thesleff, An Introduction to the Pythagorean Writings of the Hellenistic Period (Åbo 1961), 31 ff.; B. Centrone, Pseudopythagorica ethica. I trattati morali di Archita, Metopo, Teage, Eurifamo (Naples 1990), 32 f., 33 note 73.

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than this, recalling the origin of the modern category of ‘doxography’ and the enormous impact of Hermann Diels’ Doxographi Graeci, and providing an outline of the ancient doxographical literature from its beginnings in the V century BC until the early Imperial age in the light of the most recent research. In the main part of his contribution, Runia examines a series of ‘doxographical’ texts, showing that Philo very often resorts to the method of expounding the opposed views of philosophers on the same subject, that is, the scheme of diaphonia. This is particularly evident in such texts as, e.g., Abr. 162–163, Somn. 1. 52–55, 145, 184, Mut. 10, 67, the long section of De ebrietate reporting a version of the Sceptical tropes: in all these contexts Philo seemingly employs doxographical material very similar to that found in Aetius’ Placita and other authors’ collections of doxai circulating from the I century BC on. The important role of the Aristotelian school in forming the doxographical literature and the hypothesis that Philo used a manual collecting the opinions of philosophers are confirmed by Robert W. Sharples’ chapter “Philo and post-Aristotelian Peripatetics”. Sharples’ main, though not unique, concern is Philo’s acquaintance with Peripatetic cosmology and biology, both in De aeternitate mundi and in exegetical treatises. The doxography of De aeternitate, containing arguments in favour of the eternity of the world, is divided in four sections and is expounded by the author beginning with Theophrastus and continuing with Critolaus, Aristotle’s arguments probably depending on De philosophia, and dissident Stoics. As regards the question of Philo’s source(s) in compiling this treatise, Sharples is inclined to think that he consulted a sort of anthology or a school treatise which had already collected the various cosmological opinions from different schools and philosophers. The hypothesis of a common source underlying at least three of the four sections was advanced by Hans von Arnim, who thought of a Peripatetic source of the I century BC. Arnim’s conjecture has been recently supported by M. Baltes, but Sharples recalls some alternatives, such as Colson’s and Dillon’s suggestions of Ocellus and Eudorus respectively. The analysis includes other texts than De aeternitate, particularly Decal. 30–31, Prov. 2.60, QG 4.8, Her. 283, QE 2.73— the three latter on the important theory of the ‘fifth substance’—, and Ebr. 172 and 174 which reveal a significant resemblance between some examples of Sceptical tropes and biological texts from Theophrastus. The difficult task of delineating the relationship between Philo and Epicurean philosophy is faced in Graziano Ranocchia’s contribution

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“Moses Against the Egyptian: the anti-Epicuren Polemic in Philo”. Besides the three already-mentioned explicit references, Ranocchia draws out a series of implicit references and allusions to what may be considered the major object of Philo’s philosophical aversion. Among the most interesting passages in which an Epicurean doctrine is at least adumbrated are Somn. 1. 184 (on the theory of intermundia), Conf. 114–115 (on the dominance of chance and denial of divine providence), Opif. 171 (on infinity of worlds), Fug. 148 and QG 4.42 (on the assumption of both atoms as principles of being and pleasure as the final goal of life); Leg. 3.140–143 (Philo’s use of technical terms of Epicurean ethics as exegetical tools), Somn. 2.48–49 (a curious renversement of a sentence from the Epistle to Menoeceus). Two significant results emerge from Ranocchia’s essay: the first is that Philo was well acquainted with Epicurean philosophy, if not directly from the writings of Epicurus and Epicureans, then certainly from reliable doxographical material; the second result is that Philo’s appropriation of the lexicon and conceptual apparatus of a school to which he was radically hostile, should be seen as an example of the tendency to ‘standardisation’ of philosophical thought, starting from late Hellenism; in such a context Epicurean philosophy appeared as the main reference point and ‘depository’ for all that might be argued about pleasure. Carlos Lévy’s chapter “La conversion du scepticisme chez Philon d’Alexandrie” is a new contribution to the definition of the place held by the composite Sceptical tradition in Philo’s work; it is thus to be added to the above-mentioned papers by the French scholar (see n. 13). Lévy rejects the modern interpretation which has ‘ontologized’ ancient Scepticism and made of it a uniform reality, the existence of which is often assumed independently from any serious philological and textual research; instead, the author proposes a fresh study of the terms σκ0ψις and σκεπτικς and the verb σκ0πτομαι. What emerges from this semantic analysis is a rather frequent contrast between the negative evaluation of the σκεπτικς and the approval of the intellectual and practical attitude indicated by σκ0πτομαι and σκ0ψις. Sometimes, σκεπτικς stands for πορετικς (e.g. in Fug. 129, QG 3.33), or σοφιστς (Congr. 52). The verb is constantly used to mean a difficulty in explaining a Scriptural passage, while σκ0ψις can also indicate the ‘Socratic’ spirit of research (e.g. Somn. 1.58). The second part of the essay is devoted to Philo’s use of the verb π0χω as a way of expressing the limits of human knowledge. Some texts (Post. 18, Fug. 136 and others) present an interesting case of philosophical appropriation, consisting in Philo’s transforma-

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tion of epoche, which was originally a voluntary act of suspension of judgement, into the sign of an objective limit imposed by the inaccessible nature of God. Finally, a comparison of Somn. 1 and Cicero’s Lucullus demonstrates the diffusion, in the cultural milieu of the I century BC, of a relationship between ‘scepticism’ (as suspension of judgement) and transcendence. The preliminary concern in Anthony Long’s chapter, “Philo on Stoic Physics”, is a methodological one: starting from a critical consideration of Hans von Arnim’s approach in collecting texts from Philo, based on his trust in Philo’s dependence on Posidonius and Antiochus of Ascalon, Long goes on to propose a more updated perspective which takes into account the dialectical contexts to which Philo’s reputed Stoic references belong. The principal part of the chapter is focused on De aeternitate mundi: much attention is paid to the argument according to which two “peculiarly qualified individuals” cannot inhere in the same substance (the famous case of Dion and Theon), and, therefore, the central dogma of conflagration. In this regard, as Long observes, Philo’s evidence is of primary importance for its uniqueness, though not its accuracy. The second part deals with some aspects of Stoic physiology, while the final section concentrates on De opificio. The impression drawn from this treatise is that Stoicism is a useful but not necessary instrument in Philo’s exegetical work: he would probably have arranged his exegetical scheme of creation even if he had never heard of Stoicism. Nonetheless, if his adoption of Stoicism was “something like a lingua franca” (p. 139), similar to what Ranocchia points out for Philo’s adoption of Epicurean concepts and terms, this remains of great interest. Roberto Radice’s chapter, “Philo and Stoic Ethics. Reflections on the Idea of Freedom”, aims at demonstrating the presence of Stoic ethical tenets in exegetical rather than philosophical contexts. After a clarification of the limits of Stoic influence on Philo’s moral thought, Radice focuses on Legum allegoriae, constantly compared to De opificio. The same biblical passages about the divine act of creation are commented by Philo from two distinct standpoints, De opificio being the work in which he describes the constitution of the physical kosmos, Legum allegoriae that in which he explains the ethical kosmos, that is, the code of moral values given by God to mankind. Some Stoic (or ‘Stoicizing’) conceptions can be found behind Philo’s allegorical vision of Genesis, such as the role assigned to intellect in the process of human knowledge (although in Philo it is always God who provides man directly with intellectual

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capacity). A central place in Radice’s analysis is occupied by the Scriptural subject of Eden and its allegorical sense of ‘divine plantation’ of virtues. This allegory offers some elements of Stoic ethical doctrine which are adopted as exegetical instruments. Particularly, the symbology of the Garden fits well with the Stoic conception of virtue, which is at the same time unique and various, so recalling the Stoic idea of virtue conceived as a unique ‘science’ of good and evil and, at the same time, divided into various moral qualities. Dealing with the psychological models used by Philo, Gretchen Reydams-Schils’ contribution “Philo of Alexandria on Stoic and Platonist Psycho-Physiology: The Socratic Higher Ground”, addresses a difficult issue of Philonic research: the relationship between Platonism and Stoicism in describing the nature of the soul, its functions and parts, the hierarchy of its rational and non-rational components. The leitmotiv of Reydams-Schils’ paper is that Platonic and Stoic systems are well balanced in Philo’s works, because they are subsumed under a “larger purpose”, precisely, re-establishing the Socratic view of the soul as we learn it from early Platonic dialogues. The essay is a meticulous review of all the contexts in which Philo resorts to Platonic and Stoic conceptions and provides a very large spectrum of similes, metaphors and allegories signifying the connections of soul and body, mind and senses, or passions, according to both Platonic and Stoic patterns. The penultimate section presenting ‘mixed cases’ paves the way to the author’s critical conclusions. The idea of a ‘balance’ between Platonism and Stoicism is sufficient justification for re-printing this well-known article, confirming that Philo represents a fascinating example of that strategy of philosophical appropriation which is greatly reflected in MiddlePlatonic and Stoic philosophers of I and II centuries AD. The specific value of Philo not only as testimony for a Stoic doctrine but also as a medium for transmitting it, is the topic of Margaret Graver’s paper, “Philo of Alexandria and the Origins of the Stoic ΠΡΟΠΑΘΕΙΑΙ” (this too already published in 1999). The subject being an important doctrine of Stoic moral psychology, that of προπ"ειαι and their relation to the canonical theory of the four passions, Graver’s critical approach is essentially philological and historical. She studies four passages from Quaestiones in Genesim (1.79, 4.73, 1.55, 3.56), only one of which is included in SVF. In the course of the examination, which is accompanied by a parallel one in other Stoic evidence, especially Seneca and Epictetus, extremely crucial and vexed questions in Stoic research are raised: of these we need to remember at least the relation

introduction

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of ‘impression’ and ‘assent’ and the problem of progress towards moral perfection, both of them connected to the topic of the ‘wise’ man according to the celebrated Stoic ideal that Philo shows he appreciates on many occasions. Given the importance of these doctrines in early and late Stoicism and the place they have had in modern criticism, Graver’s essay on Philo’s treatment offers an invaluable contribution to both the history of the diffusion of Stoic philosophy during the early Imperial age, and the history of the appropriation of Stoic ethics and psychology in the exegetical literature. John Dillon, with his “Philo and Hellenistic Platonism”, offers a survey of the relation of Philo to late Hellenistic Platonism, that is, the renewal of the Old Academy by Antiochus of Ascalon. This appears a very difficult task if seen as an attempt to isolate single and specific instances of Antiochus’ impact, independently of other possible influences, such as those produced by neo-Pythagoreanism and Eudorus of Alexandria. The most important and useful author to whom Philo is to be compared is obviously Cicero; Dillon examines those passages from Academica (e.g. Ac. pr. 2.14–42, Ac. po. 1.24–32) and De finibus (e.g. 5.9–74) which have long been regarded as Stoic reports, considering them rather as cases of combination between Platonism and Stoicism attributable to Antiochus. Of those traces of Antiochus’ presence on which Dillon dwells, I would like to recall at least two, because of their enormous importance in the Imperial age: the first is the presentation of the moral end of life, echoing both the Stoic “consistency with nature” and the Platonic “likeness to God” (as in Praem. 11 ff.); the second is the celebrated theory of Forms as “thoughts of God”. The conclusion of the essay confirms what Dillon says at the beginning about the philosophical tendencies of the Hellenistic age being so tangled in Philo’s work as to make it extremely difficult to distinguish them. Nonetheless, the role of Antiochus as an intermediate source for the acquaintance of ancient Platonism, though partially transformed by Stoicism, is something of which we can be plausibly confident. As a natural continuation of John Dillon’s study and a conclusion to a volume devoted to Philo and Hellenistic philosophy from Theophrastus to Eudorus, Mauro Bonazzi’s chapter, “Towards Transcendence: Philo and the Renewal of Platonism in the Early Imperial Age” addresses the relation of Philo to the neo-Pythagorean Platonism circulating in Alexandria after the end of the I century BC and represented by Eudorus. Bonazzi assumes, as a critical starting-point, a question raised by the most recent scholarship, that of the evaluation of Philo as

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either a ‘witness’ of the philosophically composite culture of his age, or ‘participant’; this means trying to establish to what extent he was able, besides conforming to pre-existing patterns of doxographical composition, to produce new solutions in combining different philosophical tendencies. Bonazzi’s inquiry demonstrates, on the one hand, an interesting influence exerted by the neo-Pythagoreanism to which it seems reasonable to trace back Philo’s preference for the notions of transcendence, God’s separateness and the superiority of the divine principle, all of them very widespread in neo-Pythagorean treatises; on the other hand, a good deal of autonomy, emerging, for example, from Philo’s rejection of the radical ‘mathematicalization’ of reality, which is peculiar to neo-Pythagorean metaphysics, or the adoption on occasion of the Stoic formula of the moral end. Bonazzi’s conclusion is that Philo’s tendency to combine Stoic and Platonic tenets is aimed not at reconciling opposed systems of thought, but at including different conceptual aspects in a unique orientation. This fact makes of Philo a legitimate ‘participant’ in the culture of his age.

PHILO AND HELLENISTIC DOXOGRAPHY

David T. Runia 1. Introduction* If we were in a position to ask our protagonist, Philo the learned Jew from Alexandria, what his views were on the subject of the present chapter, he might at first be somewhat puzzled. He would want to know more about what this term hellenistike doxographia might represent. We would have to explain that both parts of the term are based on neologisms coined in the 19th century of our era by German scholars— ‘Hellenistic’ from J.G. Droysen’s ‘Hellenismus’,1 ‘doxography’ from H. Diels’ Doxographi. But it would surely not take him long to understand what we were talking about, and there would be much that we could learn from him. Sadly we have no choice but to base our investigation on his writings, but at least these are copious and full of interesting information. The aim of this article will be firstly to investigate what Philo can teach us about Hellenistic doxography, and secondly to determine how he was able to use this form of ancient philosophical literature for his own purposes. It will fall into four parts. First we will have to look more closely at the work and legacy of Hermann Diels in order to determine more exactly what doxography is. Next we shall attempt to outline a brief history of doxographical literature from its first beginnings in the fifth century BCE until the early imperial period in which Philo himself lived. In the longest part of the article we shall examine the chief texts in which Philo bears witness to and makes use of doxographical material. In the final part we shall draw some conclusions on

* I would like to thank Francesca Alesse most warmly for inviting me to write this contribution to her volume, and my collaborator in the area of doxography, Jaap Mansfeld (Utrecht), for commenting on a draft version. 1 On Droysen’s “particularly lucky” find see R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship from 1300 to 1850 (Oxford 1976), 189.

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what Philo can tell us about doxography and why it was important for him in fulfilling the aims he set himself as a thinker and writer. 2. Hermann Diels and the concept of doxography It was the massive collection of ancient texts entitled Doxographi Graeci published in 1879 by the young German scholar Hermann Diels (1848– 1922) that put the concept of doxography on the scholarly map, where it has remained ever since.2 Inspired by his teacher H. Usener and a large number of scholarly predecessors going back to the Renaissance, Diels investigated the tradition of a number of ancient writers recording in various forms the opinions (doxai) of Greek philosophers.3 In the manner of the 19th century philologist he presented a body of texts, ranging from Theophrastus in the 4th century BCE to late compilations in Epiphanius and ps. Galen Historia philosopha. The central work was the collection of doxai or placita (lit. “what it pleases one (to think)”) attributed to the obscure author Aëtius (c. 50–100 CE) and partially preserved in three later authors, ps. Plutarch, Johannes Stobaeus and Theodoret of Cyrrhus. Diels was convinced that this work preserved older material. In fact his prime interest was not in the doxographical authors themselves, but rather in what they could tell us about earlier sources from which they derived their material. The motto of his work was a quote from Cicero: tardi ingeni est rivulos consectari, fontes rerum non videre.4 In the vast and labyrinthine ‘Prolegomena’ to his collection of texts, Diels first analyses the works and then attempts to trace their sources. He concludes that the core of the doxographical tradition goes back to Theophrastus and the early Peripatetic school, and in particular to his work Physikon doxai (The Opinions of the Natural Philosophers). This analysis was a cornerstone of his monumental collection of the fragments of the Presocratic philosophers, first published in 1903, which remains an important textual basis for research on early Greek philosophy today.

H. Diels, Doxographi Graeci (Berlin 1879, repr. 1976; abbreviated as DG). On Diels and the earlier scholarly tradition that he built on see J. Mansfeld– D.T. Runia, Aëtiana. The Method and Intellectual Context of a Doxographer, vol. 1: the Sources (Leiden 1997). 4 “It is evidence of a slow mind when one pursues the little streams, and fails to see the sources of things”, De orat. 2.117. 2 3

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Remarkably Diels begins his ‘Prolegomena’ by discussing a Philonic text. His opening words are:5 The first to have been in contact with the Epitome On the Placita that goes under the name of Plutarch appears to have been Philo the Jew, if indeed we believe that the following text in the first book On Providence has been written by him.

Diels then places the two texts (Prov. 1.22, ps. Plut. Epit. 1.3) side by side and concludes that the parallels cannot be coincidental. But Philo is about 120 years earlier than the next witness and the chronological consequences for Diels’ reconstruction are unacceptable. As hinted at in the above quote, he concludes that these words could not have been written by Philo. Later in his ‘Prolegomena’ he devotes a number of pages to the well-known Theophrastean passage on the eternity of the cosmos in Aet. 117–149. But perhaps the most important Philonic passage for his purposes was overlooked, as he later realized. We shall return to these texts later on in our article.6 Diels invented the term ‘doxography’ and it soon passed into general scholarly currency. But the term has never been adequately defined and continues to be used in a number of different ways. The following four meanings, going from narrow to broad, are indicative of the diversity of current usage:7 (1) The tradition of Placita-literature and related writings as collected by Diels; (2) The broader tradition of discussion and summary of ancient philosophical doctrines; (3) All reportage of ancient philosophical doctrine not recorded in the philosophers’ original works; (4) The practice of doing the history of philosophy by discussing philosophers’ doctrines (and not the problems they are tackling).

5 H. Diels, DG, 1: “Plutarchi quae fertur de Placitis epitomen primus attigisse videtur Philo Iudaeus, si modo hunc locum libri primi de providentia ab eo scriptum esse credimus.” 6 See below Section 4(f), (e), & (b) respectively. 7 See the more detailed discussion on terminology in D.T. Runia, “What is Doxography?”, in P.J. van der Eijk (ed.), Ancient Histories of Medicine. Essays in Medical Doxography and Historiography in Classical Antiquity (Leiden–Boston 1999), 33–55. The difference between the first and second meaning corresponds to the distinction between broad and narrow doxography made by J. Mansfeld in the Encyclopedia article cited in the next note, § 6.

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In the present article it is the second meaning that covers our subject best. As we just saw, Diels does discuss Philo in the context of the Placita, but much of this literature (though not its sources) post-dates him. On the other hand if we took the third and fourth of the meanings above, then the contents of the entire volume on Philo and Hellenistic philosophy could be subsumed under our subject. The scope of ancient doxography in the context of Philo’s writings will become clearer as we give a brief outline of its development from the earliest beginnings up to the time of Philo. This history will not amount to a summary of Diels’ work. For the first hundred years after the publication of Doxographi Graeci, most scholars were happy to accept his reconstruction. However, recent research, primarily carried out by the Dutch scholar Jaap Mansfeld, with some contributions from myself and others as well, has yielded greater insight into the nature of purpose of the doxographical tradition.8 It will form the basis of the following section. 3. A brief outline of the origin and development of doxography When philosophers first started to write down their thoughts, it did not take long before they made reference to the views of their predecessors and contemporaries. But it took some time before this was done in any systematic kind of way. In Plato’s dialogues there are already some traces of this process, for example when in the Theaetetus he contrasts the views of Heraclitus and Parmenides, or when in the Sophist he speaks of a “battle of giants” in which materialist thinkers are opposed to “friends of the forms”, or when in the Phaedo he identifies various physical topics relating to the cosmos and the soul, on which thinkers such as Anaxagoras and Socrates are supposed to have views.9 It is

8 The best recent overview of the results of this research is given in the article “Doxography of ancient philosophy” by J. Mansfeld in the online Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/doxography-ancient. See also the survey of J. Mejer, Überlieferung der Philosophie im Altertum. Eine Einführung (Copenhagen 2000), esp. 22–33. Mansfeld and I are undertaking a large scale examination of the tradition of the Placita. The study cited above in n. 3 is the first of a number of projected volumes. See further the review article on the project by M. Frede, “Aëtiana”, Phronesis 44 (1999), 135–149. Frede praises the basic approach, but encourages its authors to look more closely at the evidence that Theodoret supplies. 9 Cf. Theaet. 152e, 180e, Soph. 246a–c, Phaed. 96b–c, 97d–e, 98a etc. On the latter texts see J. Mansfeld, “Physical Doxai in the Phaedo”, in M. Kardaun–J. Spruyt (eds.),

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likely that in such passages he is drawing on earlier work done by Sophists such as Hippias and Gorgias. A decisive contribution was made by Aristotle.10 It is a regular feature of his method of philosophizing (often called his dialectical method) that when he treats a philosophical topic, he first examines the “reputable opinions” (endoxa) held by previous thinkers, both organizing and evaluating them prior to the establishment of his own views. A fine example is found at the beginning of De anima (Α 2.403b20–25): For our study of soul it is necessary, when formulating the problems of which in our further advance we are to find the solutions, to summon forth the opinions (doxai) of our predecessors, so that we may profit by whatever is sound in their suggestions and avoid their errors. The starting-point of our inquiry is to put forward those features which have been thought to belong to it in its very nature.

The question on the nature or essence of the soul (ousia) which is announced here later finds its way into doxographical collections, e.g. at Aët. 4.2 (in Diels’ reconstruction). In his Topics Aristotle gives instructions on how problems should be treated through the elucidation of tenets or opinions (doxai). Such problems are divided into three domains, ethics, logic and physics. An example is given for each domain, e.g. for physics the question whether the cosmos is everlasting or not.11 The mass of material needs to be organized and a variety of instruments are available for the purpose, e.g. the method of division (diaeresis) or opposition, the use of enumeration, the making of lists, and so on. Another contribution that Aristotle made lay in the study and summarization of earlier philosophical writings. From surviving lists of his writings we know that he wrote a number of treatises on earlier thinkers such as Archytas, Democritus and other Presocratics, as well as an Epitome of Plato’s Timaeus.12

The Winged Chariot. Collected Essays on Plato and Platonism in Honour of L.M. de Rijk (Leiden 2000), 1–17. 10 On the Aristotelian background, which Diels largely overlooked, see the seminal article of J. Mansfeld, “Physikai Doxai and Problêmata Physica from Aristotle to Aëtius (and Beyond)”, in W.W. Fortenbaugh–D. Gutas (eds.), Theophrastus: his Psychological, Doxographical and Scientific Writings (New Brunswick–London 1992), 63–111, esp. 70–82. 11 Top. Α 14.105b19–25. This topic is treated in Aët. 2.4. The example for ethics is whether one should obey one’s parents or the laws, for logic whether there is the same knowledge of contraries or not. 12 The three main lists are printed in O. Gigon, Aristotelis Opera, vol. III: Librorum deperditorum fragmenta (Berlin–New York 1987), 1–44.

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Aristotle’s work was continued by his pupils. It appears that Theophrastus distilled much of the work on early philosophical doctrines in the area of natural philosophy into the 18 books of his compendious Physical Doctrines.13 His surviving brief treatise De sensibus may well have originally formed part of this work. It certainly appears to illustrate the method used very well.14 Views on the role and working of the senses are divided into a small number of oppositions, e.g. between those who think knowledge is obtained through similarity and those who think it comes from difference. Notable philosophers such as Empedocles, Plato and Democritus are associated with these views and their doctrines are evaluated and criticized in accordance with Peripatetic doctrine. Diels was most likely correct in arguing that much of the collection of doxai that we find in later doxographical writings was first done in the Peripatos, but the arguments for the leading role he assigned to Theophrastus are not as strong as he assumed. The contribution of Eudemus may also have been significant.15 He also underestimated the amount of adaptation and development that took place in the Hellenistic period. Unfortunately the loss of almost all philosophical writings in the Hellenistic period makes it very difficult to follow the further development and use of the doxographical methods initiated by Aristotle and Theophrastus. The evidence of Epicurus’ Letters and other fragmentary texts suggest that he made extensive use of the organization and some of the arguments of Theophrastus’ treatises in the presentation of his views on physics, especially when suggesting multiple possible causes of celestial and meteorological phenomena.16 Half a century later Chrysippus exploits doxographical material in discussing the seat 13 Diels thought the title of the work was Physikon doxai; cf. DG, 102–118, 473–495. J. Mansfeld has demonstrated, however, that it was most likely Physikai doxai; see his article cited in n. 10, 64. The crucial difference is that the latter title places the emphasis on the systematic nature of the collection rather than on the philosophers whose views are being discussed. 14 See J. Mansfeld, “Aristote et la structure du De sensibus de Théophraste”, Phronesis 41 (1996), 158–188; H. Baltussen, Theophrastus against the Presocratics and Plato. Peripatetic Dialectic in the De sensibus (Leiden 2000). 15 See the suggestive remarks of J. Mansfeld, “Cosmic Distances: Aëtius 2.31 Diels and Some Related Texts”, Phronesis 45 (2000), 200–201. 16 See further J. Mansfeld, “Epicurus Peripateticus”, in A. Alberti (ed.), Realtà e ragione: studi di filosofia antica (Florence 1994), 29–50; D.T. Runia, “Lucretius and Doxography”, in K.A. Algra–M.H. Koenen–P.H. Schrijvers (eds.), Lucretius and his Intellectual Background (Amsterdam–Oxford–New York–Tokio 1997), 98–99. See also the article of D. Sedley cited below in n. 81.

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of the ruling part (hegemonikon) of the soul in his treatise On the Soul. The striking parallels with later texts have been studied by J. Mansfeld.17 He points out that Chrysippus emphasizes the disagreement (antilogia) prevalent in views on the subject. This suggests that by this time the earlier Peripatetic collections of material have been reworked by the Sceptical Academy instituted by Arcesilaus in the 3rd cent. BCE in order to support their view that one should suspend judgment on all philosophical questions whether theoretical or practical. Difference of opinion, as recorded by Aristotle and Theophrastus, is converted into disagreement or dissension (diaphonia). The difference is well brought out by Cicero when he writes:18 Aristotle the founder [of the Peripatos] instituted the practice of speaking both for and against on every topic, not in order to speak against every position as Arcesilaus did, but to set out the possible arguments on either side on every subject.

The sceptical and controversialist method was continued by the 2nd century Academic philosophers Carneades and Clitomachus. The final body of significant evidence before Philo is found in the writings of Cicero. In his youthful manual of rhetoric, De inventione, Cicero informs us about the method of the thesis or quaestio infinita, which discusses general topics such as ‘are the senses true’, ‘what is the shape of the cosmos’, ‘what is the size of the sun’. It is no coincidence that all three questions recur in the doxographical manual of Aëtius.19 Much of Cicero’s philosophical writing is structured around the discussion of such topics, e.g. De natura deorum on whether gods exist and, if they do, what is their nature, De finibus on what is the goal of the good life, and so on. In these discussions he likes to give opposed views (pro et contra dicere, as attributed to Aristotle in the quote above), with his own preferred view often a third compromise position. In addition these writings contain many overviews of the opinions of leading philosophers on the subjects in question. The best known example is the long doxography on theological views in De nat. deor. 1.25–41, which is paralleled by the papyrus PHerc. 1428 (most likely the work of Philodemus), 17 J. Mansfeld, “Chrysippus and the Placita”, Phronesis 34 (1989), 311–342; “Doxography and Dialectic: the Sitz im Leben of the Placita”, ANRW II 36.4 (Berlin–New York 1990), 3056–3229, esp. 3167–3179. 18 De fin. 5.10; text cited by J. Mansfeld, “Doxography and Dialectic”, cit., 3173. 19 De inv. 8; cf. J. Mansfeld, “Physikai doxai”, cit., 79. The chapters in Aëtius are 4.9, 2.2, 2.21.

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and bears a significant resemblance to the chapter in Aëtius on the nature of divinity, 1.7.20 Perhaps the most interesting text of all is found in Cicero’s Academica priora, 2.112–146, in which he presents the sceptical view that all the dogmatic philosophers are in fatal discord with each other.21 Many of the examples, especially in the area of physics, are closely related to texts in the Placita literature and led Diels to postulate that there was an older collection of views (the so-called Vetusta placita) which served as a source for both Cicero and Aëtius.22 Situated chronologically between these two authors, of course, we find Philo of Alexandria. But before we move to Philo’s evidence, two further comments need to be made. The first pertains to the kind of philosophical topics that are dealt with in doxographical literature. As we saw above, Aristotle indicates that his dialectical method can handle subjects in the areas of physics, ethics and logic, and he gives an example for each. However, it appears that only in the area of physics (including first principles, psychology and related epistemology) do we have a body of doxai that are organized on a large scale, i.e. the tradition of the Placita investigated by Diels. M. Giusta made a valiant attempt to show that there was a parallel body of ethical doxai, but it has been generally agreed that no such work ever existed.23 This does not mean that there was not a significant number of ethical doxographies, as seen for example in Cicero’s De finibus,24 but there was no systematically organized corpus. The same applies for topics in the area of logic. The second comment pertains to the way in which doxographical material was presented. This happened in many different forms.25 In the Placita the various doxai are mostly presented in an extremely com20 Already included by H. Diels in DG, 531–550. The new edition of the papyrus by D. Obbink is eagerly awaited. 21 On this passage and its antecedent sources see J. Mansfeld, “Gibt es Spuren von Theophrasts Phys. Op. bei Cicero?”, in W.W. Fortenbaugh–P. Steinmetz (eds.), Cicero’s Knowledge of the Peripatos (New Brunswick–London 1989), 133–158, repr. in Studies in the Historiography of Greek Philosophy (Assen 1990), 238–263. 22 Cf. esp. Ac. pr. 2.122–123, on which see Mansfeld, “Physikai doxai”, cit., 98–108, who emphasizes the further link back to Arist. De cael. Β 13. 23 M. Giusta, I dossografi di etica, 2 vols., (Turin 1964–1967). Copious use is made of the evidence furnished by Philo; see the index of passages at 2.584–585. 24 See also the overview of ethical disagreement in Ac. pr. 2.129–141. A fine example in a later author is on the telos (end of life) in Clem. Al. Strom. 2.127–132. 25 A brief overview is given in D.T. Runia, “What is Doxography”, cit., 40–45; see also the two studies of J. Mejer, Diogenes Laërtius and his Hellenistic Background (Wiesbaden 1978), and Überlieferung der Philosophie, cited above (n. 8).

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pact form, often merely stating the view without any accompanying argument. In other texts views can be set out at greater length with argumentation and illustratory material, as for example in the Ciceronian texts cited above or in Seneca’s Naturales quaestiones. Sometimes the doxai belonging to a single philosopher are collected together in a doctrinal compendium, as found for example in many biographies in Diogenes Laertius. A different form of Hellenistic doxography is found in the ‘On the sects’ literature, which dealt with the doctrines of haireseis or “schools of thought”. The best known extant example is by Arius Didymus on Peripatetic and Stoic physics and ethics.26 It was long thought that Arius was the Alexandrian Stoic who was an older contemporary of Philo, but this is now considered unlikely.27 Another genre was the ‘Successions’ literature, which emphasized how philosophical ideas were handed down from teacher to pupil in various successions (Diadochai) from Thales to the Hellenistic schools.28 Together these various works constitute well-known philosophy manuals of Philo’s time. We may surmise that the learned Jew was very familiar with them. But it is now time to turn to his evidence and see the extent of his acquaintance. 4. Some important Philonic texts There are a very considerable number of texts scattered throughout Philo’s extensive corpus that can be called upon to illustrate his knowledge and use of the Greek doxographical tradition. The following series of texts have been selected because of their importance or because they illustrate particular kinds of usage or adaptation. They should not, however, be regarded as exhaustive. It will not be practical to quote 26 The physical fragments were collected in Diels, DG, 445–472; see further D.T. Runia, “Additional Fragments of Arius Didymus on Physics”, in K.A. Algra–P.W. van der Horst–D.T. Runia (eds.), Polyhistor. Studies in the History and Historiography of Philosophy presented to Jaap Mansfeld (Leiden 1996), 363–381. Two long passages on Stoic and Peripatetic ethics are preserved in Stobaeus; see W.W. Fortenbaugh (ed.), On Stoic and Peripatetic Ethics. The Work of Arius Didymus (New Brunswick–London 1983); A.J. Pomeroy, Arius Didymus. Epitome of Stoic Ethics (Atlanta 1999). 27 As argued by T. Göransson, Albinus, Alcinous, Arius Didymus (Göteborg 1995). 28 See the surviving examples on the Academy and Stoa attributed to Philodemus’ Σ6νταξις τ8ν φιλοσφων and edited by T. Dorandi: Storia dei filosofi [.] Platone e l’Academia (PHerc. 1012 e 164) (Naples 1991); Filodemo. Storia dei filosofi: la Stoà da Zenone a Panezio (PHerc. 1018) (Leiden 1994).

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all the texts in their entirety. The reader is asked to consult editions and translations of Philo’s works in order to gain acquaintance with full details.29 a. The gift of sight and the origin of philosophy In a number of texts scattered throughout his works Philo gives encomia of the human faculty of sight. The theme is a topos that has been developed from the famous passage in Plato, Tim. 47a–d, where it is argued that sight is the ultimate origin of philosophy.30 As part of his expansion of Plato’s themes Philo adds examples of philosophical problems that the mind, responding to the data of sight, investigates. At Opif. 54, prompted by exegesis of the creation of the heavenly bodies on the fourth day of creation, he explains what contemplation of the heavens allows the soul to do:31 It started to busy itself with further enquiries: (1) what is the substance (ousia) of these objects of sight? (2) are they by nature uncreated or did they obtain a beginning of genesis? (3) what is the manner of their movement, and (4) what are the causes by means of which each thing is administered? From enquiry into these matters the pursuit of philosophy arose.

The examples that Philo gives are taken from the realm of physics. He moves from three questions on the nature of visible phenomena to a final question on their causes. A similar but more expansive text is found at Abr. 162–163, where he gives a rather far-fetched symbolic explanation why one of the five cities was exempted from destruction in Gen 19:15–29: The understanding … taking from sight the starting-points of its ability to observe the things of the mind, proceeded to investigate whether (1) these phenomena are ungenerated or have obtained a beginning of genesis, (2) whether they are infinite or limited, (3) whether there is a single cosmos or a plurality, and (4) whether the four elements form the substance of all things, or whether the heaven and its contents have been allotted a special nature and share in a substance that is more divine and differing from the others. Moreover, if indeed the cosmos has come 29

In what follows Philonic texts are quoted in my own translation. On these texts and their background see D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986), 270–276. 31 See also the parallel text at Spec. 3.190, which asks a further question of the causes, namely whether they are material or immaterial. 30

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into being (cf. question 1), (5) by whom did this occur, and (6) who is the creator (demiourgos) in terms of substance or quality, and (7) what did he have in mind in creating it, and (8) what is he doing now and what is his occupation and manner of life, and all the other questions that a keen intellect with wisdom as its companion is inclined to examine. These and similar questions are what philosophizing is concerned with.

Here we first have four questions on the nature of visible phenomena. In each case Philo presents alternative answers, and in all but the last these form a diaeresis consisting of contradictories (e.g. the phenomena are either generated or ungenerated, there is no third possibility). Then, instead of asking about their causes in a general way, as in the previous text, Philo takes one of the alternatives, that the cosmos is generated, and asks four further questions about its cause in the form of a creator. The examples in these two texts show how it is envisaged that the subject-matter of philosophy is organized in terms of questions. Moreover, the way that these questions are presented is relevant in a number of respects to doxographical texts. Firstly it clearly privileges questions in the area of cosmology and first principles, which is precisely the subject matter of Books I and II of Aëtius’ Placita. Indeed the specific questions asked correspond in a rather inexact way with various chapters in that work, e.g. 2.1 on whether the cosmos is single or infinite, 2.2a on the cosmos’ motion,32 2.4 on whether the cosmos is generated or ungenerated,33 2.11 on the substance of heaven, 1.3 on first principles, 1.7 who is God, 1.11 on causes, 1.12 on bodies etc. Doxography is thus used as a tool to give structure to the domain of philosophy. In addition, the way Philo gives alternative answers is reminiscent of the method of the thesis or quaestio infinita initiated by Aristotle and commonly found in Cicero.34 We note, finally, that Philo is not neutral in the way he formulates the questions. The second example plainly tends in the direction of the cosmology of the Timaeus, which he sees as corresponding in large part to the Mosaic creation account in the book of Genesis. The 32 As I will show in my forthcoming reconstruction of Placita Book II, analysis of the evidence shows that originally there must have been a chapter entitled Περ1 κινσεως κσμου which was deleted by the epitomiser ps. Plutarch. 33 To judge by ps. Plutarch’s epitome, the title of this chapter in Aëtius appears to have been ε9 2φ"αρτος : κσμος, but its contents clearly also cover the wider question of whether the cosmos came into being or is ungenerated. The question goes back to Plat. Tim. 27c5. 34 See the discussions above in the previous section.

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Placita in Aëtius also show signs of Platonist influence, for example in the lemma on Plato’s theology in 1.7.35 b. Inscrutability of the heavens and the mind In De somniis 1, towards the end of Philo’s great Allegorical Commentary on Genesis, an elaborate exegesis is given of Jacob’s famous dream in Genesis 28. It is noted (§ 4) that the dream occurs as he makes a journey from the well of the Oath (v. 10 LXX; Beersheba in the Hebrew original). In allegorical terms the well should be seen as a symbol of knowledge (§ 6). But why is this well the fourth of those dug by Abraham and Isaac? Philo’s solution is to suggest that both in the cosmos and in us human beings there are four constituents, of which three are knowable and one beyond our knowledge. The idea is elaborated in two parallel arguments as follows: § 14 biblical problem § 15 suggested solution § 16 four constituents of the cosmos §§ 17–20 three of these, earth-water-air, are knowable §§ 21–24 fourth, heaven, is essentially unknowable § 25 four constituents of human beings §§ 27–29 three of these, body-perception-speech, are knowable §§ 30–33 fourth, intellect, is essentially unknowable.

The procedure is typically Philonic. Greek philosophical doctrines are used to convey a deeper understanding of Scripture. It is often while explaining the doctrines adduced that the exegete can supply us with valuable information about Greek philosophy, even though that is not his primary goal. We have a striking case here. In order to demonstrate the unknowability of both heaven and the human intellect Philo’s strategy is to set out the diversity of opinion that exists on these two topics. For his material he draws on a doxographical manual which is no longer extant but bears a close resemblance to the Placita of Aëtius. Diels missed out on this vital text when he wrote his ‘Prolegomena’, but it was discovered by Paul Wendland, the co-editor of the great critical edition of Philo’s works. He was encouraged by 35 Fullest text at Stob. Ecl. 1.1.29b, cf. Diels, DG, 306–307. I have examined the parallelism between Philo and the Placita in my article, “The Beginnings of the End: Philo of Alexandria and Hellenistic Theology”, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden 2002), 281–316.

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Diels to present his find to the Berlin Academy.36 I draw on his analysis in what follows, as well as on the important discussion by Jaap Mansfeld in his magisterial article on the Placita concerned with the soul and the intellect.37 After positing that the heaven has an incomprehensible nature (physis akataleptos), Philo proceeds by asking a series of questions involving doxai that correspond to the contents of various chapters in Aëtius. A summary of these correspondences can be given as follows (for the full text see the Appendix):38 § 21 heaven: what is its nature? cf. Aët. 2.11 On heaven, what is its substance (ousia) § 21 heaven: is it three- or two-dimensional?, cf. Aët. 2.15 On the order of the stars § 22 stars: what is their nature? cf. Aët. 2.13 What is the substance of the stars? § 22 the stars: are they living or lifeless? (no chapter in Aëtius, but cf. 2.3 Whether the cosmos is ensouled and administered by providence) § 23 the moon: is its light its own or from the sun? cf. Aët. 2.28 On the illuminations of the moon.

The same procedure is followed to illustrate the incomprehensible nature of the dominant mind (ho hegemon nous): § 30 what is it as regards its substance? cf. Aët. 4.2 On the soul, 4.3 Whether the soul is body and what is its substance? § 31 does it have an external origin or does it arise organically with the substance of the soul? no direct equivalent in Aëtius, but cf. two doxai at Stob. Ecl. 1.48.739 § 31 is it destructible or indestructible? cf. Aët. 4.7 On the indestructibility of the soul § 32 where is it located? cf. Aët. 4.5 What is the dominant element of the soul and in which part is it located?

For this material there are not only parallels in Aëtius, but also in Cicero, Tusc. 1.18–24, Ac. pr. 2.124, Lucretius, Book 3, and in later texts such as Tertullian and Macrobius.40 In addition, as Wendland noted, 36 P. Wendland, “Eine doxographische Quelle Philos”, Sitzungsberichte der Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin (1897), 1074–1079. 37 J. Mansfeld, “Doxography and Dialectic”, cit., 3117–3122. 38 I give the titles of the chapters as preserved in the epitome of ps. Plutarch. 39 These are derived from a missing chapter in Aëtius, as the parallel in Theodoret. 5.28 shows; see J. Mansfeld, “Doxography and Dialectic”, cit., 3092 n. 138. 40 Analysed in depth by Mansfeld, “Doxography and Dialectic”, cit. On the important Ciceronian texts see 3122–3137. Through these parallels Mansfeld can show that

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Philo appears to use the same source material a little further on in his treatise, when he illustrates the activity of the Chaldean astronomers, which Abraham leaves behind when he emigrates to Haran (Somn. 1.52–55, translation in the Appendix). Here the presentation is much more compact, with just one or two doxai used as illustrations of only the topic indicated. The topics are similar to those used in the earlier passage, but interestingly Philo adds the subject of the size of the sun, whether just a foot in diameter (the doxa associated with Heraclitus) or much larger than the earth. This topic was a favourite illustration of a thesis or quaestio infinita in rhetorical literature,41 but was also compactly treated in a chapter in Aët. 2.21 ‘On the size of the sun’. It is also worth noting that when Philo indicates what the human being should investigate, namely his own nature, he outlines a number of topics related primarily to sense-perception which correspond closely to chapters in Book IV of Aëtius’ compendium.42 Wendland was right to conclude that the parallels between these texts are such that they cannot be fully independent of each other. But they can also not be reduced to each other. At least two topics are included in Philo’s summary that are not covered in the remains of Aëtius as we have them and various individual doxai are not exactly paralleled (see further the Appendix). Naturally we have to allow for the considerable freedom that Philo permits himself in using philosophical material. A good example of such latitude is Philo’s suggestion that according to some the substance of the stars consists of hollows and glens and fiery clumps (of metal). The doxa is paralleled in Aëtius, but there it is said of the moon which in the view of Anaxagoras and Democritus is a fiery solid which has in it plains and mountains and ravines. Two of Aëtius’ three nouns are also found in the doxographical report of Hippolytus on Anaxagoras.43 So it is likely that Philo has Philo has applied the doxography on the soul in general to the dominant part, i.e. the intellect, alone. 41 Cf. Hermagoras at Cic. De inv. 1.6.8, De orat. 2.66, Quint. Inst. or. 3.6.42, 7.2.6, 7.4.1. 42 E.g. § 55 τ. ;ρασις … τ. τ< :ρ=ν κα1 π8ς :ρ>=ς, cf. Aëtius 4.13, Περ1 :ρσεως, π8ς :ρ8μεν. 43 Compare Somn. 1.22: ο? στ0ρες πτερον γ3ς ε9σιν @γκοι πυρ<ς πλρεις—2γκεα γAρ κα1 νπας κα1 μ6δρους διαπ6ρους εBπον ατοCς εBνα. τινες; Aëtius ap. ps. Plut. 2.25: DΑναξαγρας Δημκριτος στερ0ωμα διπυρον Eχον ν FαυτG8 πεδ.α κα1 @ρη κα1 φραγγας; Hippol. Ref. 1.8.10 (Anaxagoras), Eφη δH γη.νην εBναι τ/ν σελνην Eχειν τε ν αIτJη πεδ.α κα1 φραγγας (perhaps κα1 @ρη has fallen out here, as suggested by Marcovich); D.L. 2.8 (Anaxagoras): τ/ν δH σελνην ο9κσεις Eχειν, λλA κα1 λφους κα1 φραγγας. According

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altered the language of his source in order to accentuate the bizarre nature of the views that are held on the nature of the heaven. At the same time he plainly understands well the method and purpose of his source. This emerges in at least three respects. Firstly, as already noted, he strongly emphasizes the role of questions, which form the backbone of doxography. Secondly, in giving sketchy and generalized answers to the questions, he frequently uses the method of diaeresis, which allows the answers to be grouped and opposed to each other. Thirdly, he gives a considerable number of doxai in abbreviated form as examples, but leaves out the names of the philosophers holding the views. This is consistent with the method of the Placita, where the chief emphasis falls on the view rather than the person holding it. From where, then, did Philo derive this doxographical material? Wendland argued that Philo’s source must have been the Vetusta placita postulated by Diels as available to Cicero and to be dated to the middle of the first century BCE, i.e. more than a century prior to Aëtius. Mansfeld has looked at the epistemology of Philo’s extracts more thoroughly and argues that it may well have a Sceptical or an Academic source. The continual use of the term κατληπτος (cf. Somn. 1.21, 25, 33) points more to the latter. He concludes:44 Two options are open: Philo … either used an Academic source which was based on the Plac. (and such a source would have to be earlier than the 1st cent. BCE date assigned by Diels to the Vet. Plac.), or he used— among other sources—a version of the Plac. which was older than the Vet. Plac. postulated by Diels.

It is, however, difficult to pursue Quellenforschung of this kind with any degree of precision and perhaps more fruitful to concentrate on how the material is used.45 Elsewhere in his writings Philo makes extensive use of both sceptical and academic terminology (we will be discussing further texts below). I would hesitate to conclude with Mansfeld that to Diels, DG 138, the convergence of the last three sources ultimately goes back to Theophrastus. The differing terms in Philo 2γκεα γAρ κα1 νπας are not likely the result of Philonic intervention, since he does not use them elsewhere (νπαι only in Mos. 1.289 taken from LXX, Deut 24:16). Cf. also the mistaken reference to Xenophanes at Cic. Ac. pr. 2.123 (the moon inhabited and the location of many cities and mountains). 44 J. Mansfeld, “Doxography and Dialectic”, cit., 3121. 45 In a personal communication Jaap Mansfeld indicates that he is more and more reluctant to use terms such as Vetusta or Vetustissima Placita for layers of postulated sources, at least until more definitive research has been carried out. Moreover it is better to speak of traditions than sources.

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the usage in the De somniis texts has been taken over from a particular source. Philo goes his own way, adapting material that he has at his disposal to his exegetical aims. Certainly we can easily see that his position on the unknowability of the heaven and the intellect is qualified. There are views that he knows are unacceptable, even if he does not know what the exact truth is on the subject in question. Whatever the substance of the heaven may be, the heavenly bodies are not fiery clumps of metal. The holders of such views (i.e. Anaxagoras) should be put in prison where such materials are used to punish the impious (§ 22, cf. Aet. 47). Whatever the intellect is, it is not body, but must be declared incorporeal (§ 30). But the question of its location in the head or the heart (§ 32) is one that continually recurs in Philo.46 At Post. 137 we read that it is an issue to be left to the experts. But at Sacr. 136 and Spec. 1.213 (both exegesis of Lev 3:3) he affirms that even the lawgiver Moses leaves the question undecided. These texts are—perhaps unexpectedly—consistent with the position held in De somniis. If this is indeed a question beyond the range of human knowledge, then Moses—taking up the role of the philosopher, not the prophet, here—will not supply the answer either. Finally we briefly note a number of other doxographical texts in De somniis and the preceding treatise De mutatione nominum: (1) Mut. 10: the incomprehensibility of God is compared to that of the mind and the soul; the reference to the “countless conflicts of sophists who introduce opinions (gnomai) opposed to each other or even wholly contradictory” no doubt presupposes the kind of doxography set out more fully in Somn. 1.30–32.47 (2) Mut. 67: in explaining the etymology of Abram as “uplifted (meteoros) father”, Philo briefly indicates the scope of astronomy, alluding to various chapter titles from the Placita, but without sceptical intent (see the text in the Appendix). (3) Somn. 1.145: the comparison of the moon with the other heavenly bodies as part of the allegorical interpretation of Jacob’s ladder is

46 On this question in the Philonic corpus see further V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie: son caractère et sa portée. Observations philologiques (Leiden 1977), 190; D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 267. 47 Note also a similar text at Spec. 1.38–39, in which the unattainability of knowledge of God’s essence is compared with the search for “what each of the stars is with regard to its substance”.

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probably indebted to the same doxographical source used in §§ 21– 23 (cf. Aët. 2.25, 2.30); here too there is no trace of scepticism. (4) Somn. 1.184: a somewhat playful explanation of Gen 28:17, “how fearful is this place”, “place” (topos) being taken to refer to the question in the study of natural philosophy of the location of God as being, which then involves the concept of space again; Philo gives a neat diaeresis of three views, which may be indebted to a doxographical source, but differs from Aëtius 1.18–20 in its theological emphasis. The cluster of doxographical texts in these two treatises is certainly striking and suggests that Philo may have made a special study of doxographical texts at the time of writing these works.48 c. The tropes of Aenesidemus Philo is our earliest surviving witness to the celebrated tropes of Aenesidemus, a systematic attempt to demonstrate the unattainability of true and secure knowledge in the spirit of Academic and Neopyrrhonist philosophy.49 The context is a remarkable allegory of the drunkenness of Lot, symbolizing the insensible and ignorant intellect, who consorts with his daughters, symbolizing deliberation (boule) and assent (sunainesis), as recorded in Gen 19:33–35. The entire passage, Ebr. 166–205, continues to fascinate scholars because it is such a remarkable example of how Philo can press into service for his exegesis philosophical material which seems quite antithetical to his own philosophical sympathies.50

48 These are the final treatises of the Allegorical Commentary. If he wrote the Exposition of the Law directly afterwards (which is by no means certain), then it is worth noting that its first two works are De opificio and De Abrahamo, from which the texts studied above under § 4(a) are taken (and cf. also Opif. 171 cited below in 4(g)). 49 Philo’s source usage was discovered by H. von Arnim in an early study, Quellenstudien zu Philo von Alexandria (Berlin 1888). It is very likely that Aenesidemus started as an Academic philosopher and proceeded to start his own Neopyrrhonist school, but the details are disputed; see J. Mansfeld, “Aenesidemus and the Academics”, in L. Ayres (ed.), The Passionate Intellect. Essays for Ian Kidd (New Brunswick–London 1995), 235–248, in response to F. Decleva Caizzi, “Aenesidemus and the Academy”, Classical Quarterly 42 (1992), 176–189. Aenesidemus’ exact dates are unknown, but there are good grounds for dating his floruit to the mid 1st cent. BCE. 50 See esp. the discussions in K. Janᡠcek, “Philon von Alexandreia und skeptische Tropen”, Eirene 19 (1982), 83–97; C. Lévy, “Deux problèmes doxographiques chez

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In his presentation Philo devotes the most attention to the final trope (§§ 193–202), which is equivalent to the tenth and final trope in the more systematic account preserved in Sextus Empiricus (P 1.145–163) and is also recorded as the fifth in Diogenes Laertius (9.83–84).51 According to Sextus it focused on divergences in lifestyles, customs, laws, mythical beliefs and doctrinal suppositions. Philo reserves the final divergence for the climax of his account (§§ 198–202). He is not surprised that the confused crowd of ordinary people should assent to the customs in which they have been indoctrinated, but he does wonder that the multitude of the so-called philosophers, who pretend to hunt down what is clear and not false in things, are divided into platoons and companies and posit doctrines that are discordant and often also contrary to each other not just on a single point that crops up, but on virtually all subjects great and small with which their investigations are concerned (§ 198).

In the following section Philo then gives examples of how the philosophers disagree in the areas of physics and ethics (in § 203 he also mentions logic, but gives no examples):52 (1) Physics (§ 199) (a) whether the universe is finite or infinite (cf. Aët. 2.1); (b) whether it is generated or ungenerated (cf. Aët. 2.4); (c) whether it is directed by providence or by chance (cf. Aët. 2.3); (2) Ethics (§§ 200–202)53 (a) whether the good is single and connected to the soul only, or triple and also including bodily and external goods; (b) issues relating to ways of life (bioi) and ends (tele). These examples make use of standard doxographical material. The parallel sources use slightly different examples, the only subject found in all three being—interestingly enough—the question of divine proviPhilon d’Alexandrie: Posidonius et Enésidème”, in A. Brancacci (ed.), Philosophy and Doxography in the Imperial Age (Florence 2005), 79–102. 51 Philo does not number the tropes and only records eight of the ten in Sextus. It is not wholly certain that they all go back to Aenesidemus, but certainly the tenth must do so. 52 Note that this procedure is parallel to the greatly expanded example of the disagreement of the dogmatists given by Cicero in propria persona in Ac. pr. 2.112–131 (physics starts at § 116, ethics at § 129). 53 On these subjects see further below § 4(h).

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dence (Sextus § 151, Diogenes § 84).54 In themselves they are not enough for us to conclude that Philo was indebted to the Placita. But he clearly knows this kind of material well and adapts it to his own needs.55 It is important to note that throughout the entire passage the emphasis falls on the disagreement of the philosophers rather than just their doctrines. The reason for this lies in the original allegorical context. The tropes are illustrating that it is plausible for Scripture to introduce the mind as floundering in the absence of secure knowledge (§ 203). Philo concludes the entire passage by saying that “it is the safest course to suspend judgement (epechein)” (§ 205). But can a disciple of Moses really rest content with such a thoroughly sceptical conclusion? d. The wise person sits in judgement Another allegorical passage can shed further light on the question we have just raised. In Her. 243–248 Philo gives another fascinating allegorical exegesis, this time of Abraham sitting in the midst of the birds (i.e. vultures) who descended upon the slain animals that he was about to sacrifice. The birds symbolize enemies of the soul, but it is also possible that there might be friends. Remarkably Philo sees potential friends in a group of people whom he usually portrays rather negatively, sophists engaging in doctrinal strife (§ 246): inasmuch as they incline toward a single goal, the investigation of the realities of nature, they could be said to be friends, but inasmuch as they are not of one mind in their treatment of individual problems, they can be said to be involved in civil strife.

Once again Philo gives a set of doxographical examples with philosophers propounding views in opposition to each other (§ 246): (1) those who say the universe is uncreated versus those who introduce its genesis; (2) those who affirm that the universe is destructible versus those who maintain that it will remain indestructible because held together by its creator’s will (i.e. divine providence);

54 A compact summary of all the examples is given by J. Mansfeld, “Doxography and Dialectic”, cit., 3166–3167. 55 But Mansfeld, loc. cit, concludes that Aenesidemus most likely “made creative use of disagreements listed in the Vet. Plac.” For the relation to the doxographical material in Cicero’s Academica see his remarks in “Gibt es Spuren”, cit., 134–135.

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(3) those who confess that nothing is but all is becoming versus the opposite view;56 (4) those who expound that the human being is the measure of all things (Protagoreans or Epicureans) versus those who impute confusion to the faculties of sense-perception and understanding (e.g. Pyrrhonists); (5) and, in general, those who affirm that everything is beyond comprehension (i.e. Academics and Sceptics) to those who regard many things are knowable (e.g. Stoics). The first three examples from the domain of physics are standard and familiar. The last two are epistemological and more surprising. Cleverly Philo points out that the very meta-question of whether reality is knowable is in dispute, so that the Sceptics who habitually use the disputes of the dogmatists as evidence for their own position of suspending judgment (cf. Ebr. 205 discussed above) themselves are reduced to being parties in a very fundamental disagreement.57 Philo goes on to say (§ 247), moving from the fundamental questions to more detailed themes, that the whole of physical reality has given rise to strife and contention for those who investigate the questions of substance, quality, alteration, genesis and destruction, particularly in relation to the heavens. Once again the standard questions of the Placita can be discerned, and in the background the same sceptical position can be discerned as Philo puts forward in the texts in De somniis analysed above. Philo uses a very distinctive terminology with terms such as διαφων.α, στ=σις, Eρις, φιλονεικ.α, Fτεροδοξ.α, ντιλογ.α, α?ρεσιομχος etc. in order to convey the disagreements of the philosophers and their schools in their quest for truth.58 It may be surmised that these terms have their origin as technical terms in both Academic and Neopyrrhon56 This example, which opposes the metaphysics of Heraclitus to that of Parmenides goes right back to the beginnings of doxography in Plato and Aristotle; cf. Plat. Theaet. 179e–181b, Arist. De cael. Γ 1.298b14–299a1. It is found at Aët. 1.23–24, but the two doxai are not clearly opposed. No doubt this has to do with the vagaries of transmission and adaptation. 57 This point is well made by J. Mansfeld, “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture: Philo’s Exegetical Strategies”, in J. Dillon–A.A. Long (eds.), The Question of ‘Eclecticism’. Studies in Later Greek Philosophy (Berkeley 1988), 91. 58 See not only Her. 247–248, but also the fascinating fragment preserved in the Florilegia QE fr. 5 (text at F. Petit (ed.), Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 33A: Quaestiones in Genesim et in Exodum, fragmenta graeca (Paris 1978), 284). Both texts use the distinctive term διαφων.α (pace Mansfeld, “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture”, cit., 89).

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ist philosophy.59 The epistemological terminology which opposes truth to conjecture and what is convincing but not true (§ 248: : στοχαστικ<ς κα1 πι"αν<ς νοLς) derives from the same background.60 But there is a significant difference compared to the previous texts we have discussed. Philo does not regard this sceptical position as having the last word. Taking his cue from the allegory he presents an alternative. The Sophists in their researches remain in conflict until such time as the man who is both mid-wife and judge at the same time, takes his place in their midst, examines the products of each soul, rejects those which do not deserve to be nurtured, and preserves those that are suitable and which he thinks deserving of the appropriate care (§ 247).

The reference to the mid-wife of course recalls Socrates, who brings forth and tests the thoughts of philosophic souls (cf. Plat. Theaet. 150a– 151b). But central to what Philo has in mind here is the role of the wise person and prophet who is divinely enlightened and inspired (cf. Her. 258–259, exeg. Gen 15:12). In the final analysis Philo is by no means a sceptic. The prophet and lawgiver Moses, who at the court of Pharaoh was trained in Egyptian, Chaldean and Greek (!) lore (Mos. 1.23–24),61 furnishes insight into fundamental philosophical issues, including the question of what the limits of human knowledge are. I expect that, if we could ask Philo, he would affirm that the five questions listed above on which the Sophists wrangle can in principle be answered with reference to Scripture. The role of doxography is to help clarify the scope of philosophy and the main issues, and so contributes to the apologetic aim of showing that philosophy based on Scripture can compete at the same level as Greek philosophy. This will become clearer as now turn to more detailed treatment of specific questions that have been prominent in the doxographies studied so far.

59 The earliest example of the key term διαφων.α is in fact in Philo; see the discussion by J. Mansfeld, “Diaphonia: the Argument of Alexander De fato chs. 1–2”, Phronesis 33 (1988), 184. 60 This terminology is very common in Philo; cf. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos according to Moses. Introduction, translation, commentary (Leiden 2001), 189, 239. 61 As J. Mansfeld, “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture”, cit., 96, points out, this text uses the same terminology of scepticism to describe the state of philosophical disagreement which the gifted young Moses is able to surmount.

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e. The treatise De aeternitate mundi So far the texts we have discussed have all been located in the exegetical works which form the bulk of the Philonic corpus. But doxography also plays an important role in the so-called philosophical treatises which focus on problems in Greek philosophy with almost no reference to the Bible at all. There is no need to think that these works might be inauthentic or youthful exercises. It is evident that their themes are related to the rest of Philo’s œuvre, but the method they use is different. Three of the works in fact use the method of the thesis: De aeternitate mundi on whether the cosmos is indestructible or not, De providentia II on whether Providence exists or not, De animalibus on whether animals possess logos or not.62 In the case of the first work this is done in the form of a treatise, in the latter two in the form of literary dialogues which are unique in Philo’s œuvre but rather reminiscent of the works of Cicero. As noted above (§ 3), there is a close connection between this rhetorical method and the practice of doxography. So not surprisingly, the first two treatises, each in its own way, yield highly important evidence for our subject.63 It is of course no coincidence that their themes have repeatedly been used as examples of doxographical questions in the various texts discussed so far (notably in Opif. 54, Abr. 162–163,64 Ebr. 199, Her. 246). The treatise De aeternitate mundi is well structured and its contents perfectly clear, yet the interpretation of the work as a whole has given rise to considerable controversy.65 As it stands the work can be divided into three parts. In the Introductory part (§§ 1–20) Philo first introduces its 62 On Philo’s dialogues see A. Terian, “A Critical Introduction to Philo’s Dialogues”, in ANRW II 21.1 (Berlin–New York 1984), 272–294. 63 With the exception of a brief reference to the Pythagorean philosophy at § 62, De animalibus makes no direct reference to philosophical schools, though it would not have been difficult to do so. 64 In this text the question of providence is raised by implication when the problem is raised concerning the way of life of the Deity, i.e. whether he is concerned with the cosmos in any way or not. 65 For an overview and solution to the problems see D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, Vigiliae Christianae 35 (1981), 105–151. Recently doubts have again surfaced on the authenticity of De aeternitate, inspired by the unpublished Ph.D. thesis of R. Skarsten (Bergen 1981); cf. K. Fuglseth, “The Reception of Aristotelian Features in Philo and the Authorship Problem of Philo’s De aeternitate mundi” in D. Brakke–A.-C. Jacobsen–J. Ulrich (eds.), Beyond Reception. Mutual Influences between Antique Religion, Judaism, and Early Christianity (Frankfurt am Main 2006), 57–67. In my view this position is not convincing and has not countered the arguments in my

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theme (§§ 1–2), defines the essential terms kosmos and phthora (destruction) (§§ 3–6), and then gives a detailed doxographical overview of opinions on the subject (§§ 7–19). In the main body of the work Philo then gives a long sequence of arguments demonstrating the view that the cosmos is ungenerated and indestructible (§§ 20–149). The final sentence forms the transition to the third part, in which Philo promises to clarify “the oppositions to each point”66 (§ 150). Unfortunately nothing remains of this final part of the treatise. We do not even know whether it was ever written. The doxography in §§ 7–19 is unique in Philo and deserves careful study.67 It commences by setting out the three positions taken on the subject (§ 7):68 Three opinions have emerged on the subject being investigated. There are some who affirm that the cosmos is everlasting, i.e. both ungenerated and indestructible. There are others who from the opposite viewpoint state that it is generated and destructible. Then there are some who draw from each position, from the latter that it is generated, from the former that it is indestructible. They have left behind a mixed opinion, considering it (the cosmos) to be generated and indestructible.

This opening statement is highly methodical. It takes the two positions on the beginning and the end of the cosmos respectively and uses them to make a grid: I II III

ungenerated generated generated

indestructible destructible indestructible

The first two positions are directly opposed to each other in a strong diaeresis. The third is explicitly called a mixed, i.e. a compromise view. A fourth possible view, that the cosmos is ungenerated and destructible is not mentioned, presumably because no thinker has ever seriously entertained it. article cited above. See also the response of M. Niehoff in the same volume, “Philo’s Contribution to Contemporary Alexandrian Metaphysics”, esp. 53–55. 66 Or “to each argument”; the Greek reads τAς πρ<ς Mκαστον ναντιNσεις. 67 For what follows see esp. my article cited in n. 65: also extensive discussion in Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit. 68 τριττα1 δH περ1 τοL ζητουμ0νου γεγνασι δξαι, τ8ν μHν διον τ<ν κσμον φαμ0νων, γ0νητν τε κα1 νNλε"ρον, τ8ν δH ξ ναντ.ας γενητν τε κα1 φ"αρτνP ε9σ1 δD οQ παρ’ Fκατ0ρων κλαβντες, τ< μHν γενητ<ν παρA τ8ν Iστ0ρων παρA δH τ8ν προτ0ρων τ< 2φ"αρτον, μικτ/ν δξαν π0λιπον, γενητ<ν κα1 2φ"αρτον ο9η"0ντες ατ<ν εBναι.

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Philo then proceeds to illustrate the three doxai and connect them with the doctrines of individual philosophers and schools, starting not with position I but with position II. This can be summarized as follows: IIa. Democritus & Epicurus: multiple kosmoi (§ 8) IIb. the Stoa: single cosmos everlastingly destructible (§ 9) Ia. opposed by Aristotle who accuses them of atheism (§ 10–11) Ib. perhaps Pythagoreans preceded Aristotle (§ 12) IIIa. IIIb. IIIc. IIId.

Plato’s view in Tim. 41a (quoted) (§ 13) but not to be interpreted as I according to Aristotle (§ 14–16) perhaps Hesiod is the father of Platonic doctrine (§ 18) much earlier this view was affirmed by Moses (§ 19).

Philo shows the links and contrasts between the various positions. By connecting them with the thought of individual philosophers he is able to refine the second and third position and show how they can be held in different ways. He also gives some reasons why philosophers choose a particular position, e.g. Aristotle’s view that to hold the view that the cosmos will come to an end shows an impious attitude towards the cosmos as “visible god”.69 It is important to observe that the sequence of doxai and philosophers is systematic rather than chronological. Aristotle is said to oppose a view held by thinkers who in some cases (Epicurus, Stoics) lived later than he did. Yet chronology does play a subordinate role, since in the case of views I and III Philo mentions proponents who lived earlier than the main philosophers associated with them. And it is quite plain that Philo is not a neutral doxographer. The doxography is organized in a sequence of ascending acceptability. The Stoic view is better than that of the godless atomists. Aristotle’s view is superior to that of the Stoics. Plato’s view improves on that of Aristotle (and should not be interpreted in an Aristotelianizing way). But, most importantly, the Platonic view is seen as anticipated by the lawgiver Moses and is illustrated by two texts from Genesis (1:1, 8:22). From Philo’s pen this is the ultimate imprimatur. The final paragraph § 19 is the climax of the entire doxography and provides the key to the interpretation of the treatise as a whole. It is impossible that the long sequence of arguments in §§ 20–149, which defend position I, should represent Philo’s final word on this question. In order to preserve con69 This statement is not found in Aristotle’s extant writings and has been attributed to the lost De philosophia (fr. 18 Ross). For his position on the subject see De cael. Α 10–12.

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sistency with the doxography in §§ 7–19, the “arguments in opposition”, introduced in § 150 but no longer extant, must have set out position III, not position I, unless we were to put forward the most unlikely supposition that the entire treatise at no stage articulates the arguments for the Mosaic position which Philo regards as his own. As we have already seen, the question of whether the cosmos came into being or has always existed was a stock example of a dialectical question70 and from the outset was well represented in doxographical literature. The question is posed and discussed by Plato, Aristotle, Theophrastus, and the Stoa.71 Closer to Philo’s time an imperfectly preserved report from a lost work of Varro shows some similarities with the text in De aeternitate, as does the doxography preserved by Cicero at Ac. pr. 2.118–119. In both cases the Platonic doxa is recorded, and in Cicero Aristotle is dramatically introduced in order to refute the Stoa, just as occurs in Philo.72 The corresponding chapter in Aëtius is 2.4 ‘On whether the cosmos is indestructible’, exactly the same formulation as at Aet. 3. The chapter contains 13 doxai and in terms of names and positions taken (but not argument) is much more complex than the Philonic schema. Detailed analysis shows that the various doxai present in Philo can all be located in Aëtius’ scheme, but with a different overall structure and with some different name-labels.73 Philo’s gridlike scheme with the four possible positions reappears in a sceptical text in Augustine’s Contra academicos, including even the fourth option missing in Philo.74 Philo’s three positions are repeated by Ambrose in the doxography at the beginning of his Exameron, including the namelabels Aristotle and Plato.75

See the text in Aristotle cited above at n. 11. See Plat. Tim. 27c4–5, Arist. De cael. Α 10. 279b4, Theophrast. Phys. dox. 6, 8 Diels, Stoa ap. D.L. 7.132. 72 This text has also traditionally been attributed to Aristotle’s lost De philosophia, fr. 20 Ross, but the attribution is very loose at best. Of course Aristotle could not have attacked the Stoa, but the passage here is systematic rather than historical. 73 See my analysis at “A Difficult Chapter in Aëtius Book II on Cosmology”, in A. Brancacci (ed.), Philosophy and Doxography, cit., 1–21. An extensive list of parallels is given at 20–21. 74 C. Acad. 3.23: “scio mundum istum nostrum… (1) aut semper fuisse et fore, (2) aut coepisse esse minime desiturum; (3) aut ortum ex tempore non habere, sed habiturum esse finem; (4) aut et manere coepisse et non perpetuo esse mansurum”; cf. also Civ. Dei 18.41, CCL 48.636.50. 75 Exam. 1.1.3–4; on this text see J. Pépin, Théologie cosmique et théologie chrétienne (Ambroise, Exam. I 1, 1–4) (Paris 1964), 79–100. 70 71

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Philo’s text at Aet. 7–19 can thus be placed against a rich background of doxographical activity, to which he was certainly indebted. Two features of his presentation stand out. Firstly, the text is an excellent and rather exceptional example of a doxographie raisonnée. The doxai are not just baldly stated, but are explained and inter-linked with a systematic rather than a historical purpose. Philo is not afraid to make evaluative comments. A similar approach is found in Cicero, but from a different, academic or sceptical perspective.76 As we saw earlier it ultimately goes back to the origins of the doxographical method in the Peripatos.77 Secondly, Philo integrates another method into his doxography which is more apologetic than philosophical. It is explicitly stated that according to some Hesiod is the father of the Platonic doctrine and that “at a much earlier time” the Jewish lawgiver put forward this view. Implicit here is the so-called presbyteron-kreitton motif, i.e. the earlier a view is put forward, the more authority it has.78 One is reminded of those works, roughly contemporary with Philo, which defend Homer as a philosopher or as the origin of philosophical doctrines.79 The inclusion of Moses as the most ancient representative of the view that Philo deems correct demonstrates that this treatise, even though its contents are primarily philosophical, cannot be seen as separate from his predominantly exegetical works. The long sequence of arguments in Aet. 20–149 should not be called doxographical except in the broadest sense of the term. An exception might be made for the passage at §§ 76–77 which describes how some of the later members of the Stoic school abandoned the doctrine of cosmic conflagration and “deserted to the more pious doctrine of the indestructibility of the entire cosmos”. This statement clearly links up with the view of Aristotle against the Stoic position in § 10. Special mention should be made of the final section of the treatise in which Philo records four arguments against the indestructibility of the cosmos set out by Theophrastus and then refuted by him (§§ 117–149). A huge 76 Cf. the comments of J. Mansfeld, “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture”, cit., 77–81, who refers to W. Görler’s postulation of a regular pattern of levels in Cicero’s doxographical presentations, i.e. a low view, followed by a high view, and ending with a compromise middle view; cf. Untersuchungen zu Ciceros Philosophie (Heidelberg 1974). 77 See section 3 above. 78 See P. Pilhofer, Presbyteron kreitton. Der Alterbeweis der jüdischen und christlichen Apologeten und seine Vorgeschichte (Tübingen 1990), on this text 185–186. 79 E.g. ps. Plut. De Homero, 2.93: Homer precedes Thales and Xenophanes on the ρχ and γ0νεσις of the universe.

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amount of scholarly ink has been devoted to this text.80 Diels followed Usener in regarding it as a fragment of the Physikon doxai (fr. 12). The attribution has been disputed, but has found a recent defender in David Sedley, who suggests that the original context might have been an examination of Plato’s position in the Timaeus.81 There is no way of determining whether Philo used this or any other source directly. The various arguments in De aeternitate most likely have a disparate origin. Philo’s doxography makes use of existing source material, but its innovative structure is his own contribution. f. The treatises De providentia 1 & 2 As we have seen, a theme that Philo mentions almost every time he lists important philosophical questions is whether or not divine providence exists. The subject is close to his heart because as a philosopher he is sympathetic to the Platonic view that a divine Creator not only creates the cosmos but also maintains it through his providential activity.82 Moreover, as a practising Jew he is convinced that there is a special providential relationship between God and his chosen people, as witnessed even in what befell the Jews in Alexandria and their opponents.83 The theme was also commonly used as the subject of a thesis.84 This background is important for understanding De providentia 2. It is presented as a dialogue between Philo and his nephew Alexander, who later apostasized from Judaism and became Governor of Egypt. He begins by asking (§ 3): “Do you say that providence exists despite 80 See the excellent overview in R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus. Sources for his Life, Writings, Thought and Influence, 3.1. Sources on Physics (texts 137–223). With contributions on the Arabic material by D. Gutas (Leiden 1998), 130–136. 81 D. Sedley, “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, in J. van Ophuisjen–M. van Raalte (eds.), Theophrastus. Reappraising the Sources (New Brunswick 1998), 331–354. Sedley argues that Epicurus, and in his wake Lucretius, made extensive use of Theophrastus’ arguments. 82 See P. Frick, Divine Providence in Philo of Alexandria (Tübingen 1999), and more specifically on De providentia I & II, D.T. Runia Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 396–399. 83 For this reason the theme is crucial to Philo’s historical treatises In Flaccum and Legatio ad Gaium; see P.W. van der Horst, Philo’s Flaccus. The First Pogrom. Introduction, translation and commentary (Leiden–Boston 2003), 16–17. 84 For example Theon Rhetor in his Progymnasmata § 11 gives as an example of a thesis Eστω δD οRν +μ=ς ζητεSν, ε9 προνοοLσι "εο1 τοL κσμου, followed by two pages of sample arguments; cf. also Quint. Inst. or. 7.2.2: “ut in generalibus an atomorum concursu mundus sit effectus, an providentia regatur…”, Marc. Aur. 6.10, 9.28, 12.14.

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the fact that things are so tumultuous and confused?” In the discussion that follows, which at times is quite lively, Alexander argues against the existence of providence and Philo undertakes to refute the arguments one by one. Towards the end (§ 85) Alexander states that the dispute is no longer in the manner of opposed schools of thought (i.e. haireseis) because he is inclining towards his uncle’s point of view, and by the end he is fully won over, or at least so we are led to believe. The reference to haireseis is telling, because analysis of the arguments used show that Alexander’s arguments are largely dependent on the New Academy, while Philo’s takes much of his material from the Stoic school.85 The role of doxography in the dialogue is modest and occurs mainly in the central part of the dialogue which focuses on cosmological issues. In § 45 Alexander argues that either the cosmos is created (i.e. involving divine providence) or it is the result of spontaneous generation.86 In his response Philo cites (§ 48) “the doctrine of highly regarded philosophers, as maintained by Parmenides, Empedocles, Zeno, Cleanthes and other divine men”, namely that the universe is ungenerated and everlasting. The name-labels here are somewhat unexpected. They seem to combine the view that the universe is truly uncreated and indestructible (Parmenides) with the view that it is everlasting through a never-ending cyclical process of destruction and rebirth (Empedocles and the Stoics). The name of Aristotle, who represents the eternalist position in De aeternitate is missing. A glance at the Placita may aid us here. The chapter in Aëtius ‘On whether the cosmos is destructible’ (2.4), to which we referred above in relation to De aeternitate,87 deals very compactly with all the various alternatives on the question of the cosmos’ origin and end, both temporally and causally. The two options on the eternity of the cosmos are placed in the middle of the chapter, in between those doxai that represent it as generated and those that portray it as destructible:88 5. Xenophanes and Parmenides and Melissus affirm that the cosmos is ungenerated and everlasting and indestructible. 6. But there are those who declare that its ordering is eternal, yet affirm that there are periodic times in accordance with which 85 As demonstrated by M. Hadas-Lebel, Les oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 35: De providentia I et II, (Paris 1973), 59–67. But a more detailed analysis remains a desideratum. 86 Cf. the text in Quintilian cited in n. 84. 87 See above at n. 73. 88 Translation based on the text as reconstructed in my article cited in n. 73.

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everything comes into being in exactly the same way and preserves the same disposition and ordering of the cosmos. We note that, just as in Prov. 2.48 Presocratics are used to represent the true eternalist position, but that the cyclicists only receive an anonymous label. In Aëtius the Stoics are associated with the view “that the cosmos is destructible, but only in the conflagration”, just as we read at Aet. 9. It is possible that Philo is using an alternative version of the Placita, or that he is simply rearranging his material, with which of course he is thoroughly acquainted. Other chapters in this section of Prov. 2 which recall the Placita are 2.56 (the shape of the cosmos, cf. Aët. 2.2), 2.59–60 (the order of the cosmos, 2.9), 2.70 (the light of the moon, 2.28), 2.71 (the eclipse of the sun and moon, 2.24, 2.29), 2.73 (the order of the fixed stars, 2.15), 2.74 (the movement of the heavenly bodies, 2.16), 2.76 (the substance and illuminations of the moon, 2.25, 2.28). The parallels are limited because Philo is not interested in giving long lists of views, but only views that illustrate the absence or presence of providence. The use of name-labels is also quite limited.89 But the most interesting text is found in the section (§§ 86–97) in which Alexander lists a large number of natural phenomena which are either useless or actually harmful to human beings. An example of the former is the Milky way. Alexander’s description refers anonymously to several doxai (§ 89):90 As the Milky Way, what is its purpose? The experts in meteorology contend with each other so that they can have differing views on it. (1) Some consider it to be a reflection of light from shining stars, (2) others that it is the seam of the entire heaven where the hemispheres are joined together, (3) others that it is the ancient original path of the sun, (4) others that it is the path of the cattle of Geryon as they were led by Heracles, (5) yet others that it comes from the milk-bearing breasts of Hera, which was the view of Eratosthenes … Leaving aside those fabrications which are not persuasive and only brought forward in the heat of debate, it is fitting to say (6) that it is formation of fire caused by ether through natural necessity and not providence.

Although only two of these opinions (nos. 3 and 6) are found in the chapter in Aëtius on the subject (3.1, eight doxai), all except one can be 89 In addition to § 48 cited above, cf. also Plato in § 56, Empedocles in § 70 (with quote), Chrysippus and Cleanthes in § 74. 90 My translation, based on Aucher’s Latin and with reference to the German translation of Früchtel and the French translation of Hadas-Lebel.

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found in other sources related to the Placita.91 There can be no doubt that Philo has used a doxographical source, either in the Placita tradition or closely related to it.92 Alexander’s comment at the end of the passage is important, because he indicates that the reason he puts forward the various doxai is not because they have any plausibility (they are ‘fabrications’), but for the purposes of debate, i.e. doxography has a dialectical or disputatious purpose. Given his emphasis on disagreement in this passage, it may have come to him via an academic or sceptical route, but this is by no means necessary. Philo’s own response in § 101 is rather weak. He argues that the Milky way shares the same substance as the other stars and that, as in the case of the heavenly bodies, its nature is difficult to determine (cf. the passages in De somniis discussed in section b), but nevertheless, as in the case of the sun and moon, there is not the slightest need to doubt that they exist through providence. Here too Philo shows himself to be anything but a true sceptic. The other work On providence is not a dialogue, but a treatise with a first brief section presenting arguments based on logic and with a much longer part based on observation of the sense-perceptible world (§ 5) which refutes a number of erroneous positions. The first of these is once again the view that the cosmos is everlasting or created from all eternity.93 Philo only appeals to doxographical material in §§ 20–22. 91 For (1) cf. the doxa of Anaxagoras at D.L. 2.9, Hippol. Ref. 1.8.10 (Aëtius’ doxa in 3.1 is a garbled version of the same view, as proven by Arist. Meteor. Α 8.345a26–31); for (2) cf. Theophrastus at Macrob. In somn. Scip. 1.15.4, anonymi at Achill. Isag. 24, 55.17 Maass, cf. Manil. Astron. 1.718–728; for (3) Aët. 3.1 (the Pythagoreans), Achill. Isag. 24, 55.18 (Oenipides of Chios; note that Philo does not include the detail about the sun changing its course in response to Thyestian banquets); for (4) no parallels are available, but it seems related to the next doxa, cf. the mention of Heracles at Achill. Isag. 24, 55.12; for (5) cf. Achill. Isag. 24, 55.9–17, Manil. 1.750–754; for (6) cf. Aët. 3.1, Macrob. In somn. Scip. 1.15.7 (Posidonius). 92 On the doxographical complex represented by texts in Aëtius, Achilles, Manilius and Macrobius, see Diels, DG, 229–230, I.G. Kidd, Posidonius, vol. 2. The Commentary (Cambridge 1988, repr. 1999), 488. Neither scholar mentions Philo, who is the oldest witness. There seems no strong reason to think that this doxography originated with Posidonius except that he is the last philosopher named. Note that Macrobius specifically notes that the doxography has a mixture of mythical and philosophical views, which is unusual for the Placita tradition, but which Philo obviously enjoys exploiting. Ultimately this goes back to the first treatment in Aristotle Meteor. Α 8; see further J. Mansfeld, “From Milky Way to Halo. Aristotle’s Meteorologica, Aëtius, Passages in Seneca and the Scholia on Aratus”, in A. Brancacci (ed.), Philosophy and Doxography, cit., 23–58, esp. 28 f. 93 Prov. 1.6–8 is very difficult because the Armenian translators could not cope with

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Using a procedure parallel to what we found in the De aeternitate, Philo cites a number of Platonic texts from the Timaeus and then concludes (§ 22):94 Plato recognized that these things (i.e. parts of the cosmos) are constructed by God, and that unadorned matter has been turned into the cosmos with its adornment. For these were the first causes, from which also the cosmos came into being. Since also the lawgiver of the Jews, Moses, described water, darkness and the abyss as being present before the cosmos came into being (cf. Gen 1:1–2).

The antiquity of Moses and his prior claim to truth are not spelled out here, but they are surely implicit. In the current state of our text a purely doxographical passage now follows. It begins as follows: “Plato, however, matter, Thales of Miletus water, Anaximander of Miletus the infinite (i.e. apeiron) …” In all there are ten doxai, of which all but one are the same as in the chapter on the archai (1.3) in the pseudo-Plutarchean Placita. It would seem that the mention of water in the reference to Mosaic Scripture has triggered a series of doxai starting with Thales,95 who famously argued that water was the first principle of all things. As noted earlier,96 Diels argued that the passage was interpolated into the Philonic text at a later date (the Epitome of the Placita is to be dated to 150–200 CE). A detailed examination of the passage shows that this hypothesis is very likely to be correct.97 The bald listing of name-labels together with places of origin and patronymics is entirely foreign to Philo’s usual style in this work and elsewhere. The second Empedoclean doxa is taken from a different chapter (1.5 On whether the universe is unique) and is likely to be a secondary interpolation. This text, though of historical and philological interest, should thus be set aside when studying Philo’s use of doxography.

the technicalities of the philosophical discussion. It has given rise to much dispute; see D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 148–155 (with further references), G.E. Sterling, “Creatio temporalis, aeterna, vel continua? An Analysis of the Thought of Philo of Alexandria”, The Studia Philonica Annual 4 (1992), 38–39. 94 Translation from Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 119, discussion at 156. 95 As noted by J. Mansfeld, “Cosmic Distances: Aëtius 2.31 Diels and Some Related Texts”, cit., 189. 96 See text above at n. 5. 97 See the discussion, which includes a translation of the text, at J. Mansfeld– D.T. Runia, Aëtiana, cit., 161–163.

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g. Doxography in De opificio mundi and other exegetical works The philosophical treatises that we have just examined are properly dialectical or disputatious.98 They are arguing a case—whether it be the indestructibility of the cosmos or the reality of divine providence—, and for this purpose Philo makes use of the resources of doxography, which itself has strong roots in dialectic going back at least to Aristotle. The method of the far more numerous exegetical treatises differs because their task is to expound the contents of Scripture. This can be done in many different ways, whether by means of narrative exposition, allegorical symbolic interpretation, question and answer, and so on. The role of doxography in the exegetical process is necessarily limited, but in addition to the themes that we have already examined above in sections (a)-(d), there are a number of links between exegesis and doxography that are worth pointing out. De opificio mundi has a special place in Philo’s œuvre because it is the opening treatise of a long exegetical series, The Exposition of the Law, and it explicitly sets out to provide a philosophical foundation for what follows.99 At the very outset, before expounding the opening creation account in Genesis, Philo makes a preliminary comment that has the formal features of doxography (§ 7–8): There are some people who, having more admiration for the cosmos than for its maker, declared the former both ungenerated and everlasting, while falsely and impurely attributing to God much idleness. What they should have done was the opposite, namely be astounded at God’s powers as Maker and Father, and not show more reverence for the cosmos than is its due. Moses, however, had not only reached the very summit of philosophy, but had also been instructed in the many and most essential doctrines of nature by means of oracles. He recognized that it is absolutely necessary that among existing things there is an activating cause on the one hand and a passive object on the other …

The opening words of course recall the doxography in De aeternitate and most scholars have concluded that Philo has Aristotle in mind, or perhaps also Platonists such as Speusippus and Xenocrates, because they are associated with this position in Aet. 10 and 14. There is reason

98 It also applies to the two remaining treatises, De animalibus and Quod omnis probus, but they make little use of the doxographical method. 99 On the treatise in general see my Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit.

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to believe that he may be thinking of other opponents,100 but for us the main point is that the method here is doxographical, with Moses representing the view that Philo supports. In a justly famous passage at the end of the treatise, Philo summarizes the main themes in a series of ‘five lessons’ that Moses teaches the reader (§§ 170–171): The first … is that the divinity is and exists, on account of the godless, some of whom are in doubt and incline in two directions concerning his existence, while others are more reckless and brazenly assert that he does not exist at all, but is only said to exist by people who overshadow the truth with mythical fictions. The second lesson is that God is one, on account of those who introduce the polytheistic opinion, feeling no shame when they transfer the worst of political systems, rule by the mob, from earth to heaven. The third lesson is, as has already been said, that the cosmos has come into existence, on account of those who think it is ungenerated and eternal, attributing no superiority to God. The fourth lesson is that the cosmos too is one, since the creator is one as well … For there are those who suppose there to be multiple kosmoi, and there are others who think their number is boundless, whereas they themselves are the ones who are really boundlessly ignorant of what it is fine to know. The fifth lesson is that God also takes thought for the cosmos, for that the maker always takes care of what has come into existence is a necessity by the laws and ordinances of nature, in accordance with which parents too take care of their children.

The five lessons recall the philosophical questions that Philo recites in the texts cited above in sections (a)-(d) and are clearly orientated towards questions that are commonly discussed in doxographical texts, i.e. Lesson 1, on the nature of God, whether he exists or not—cf. Aët. 1.7; Lesson 2, on the nature of God, whether he is one or many—cf. Aët. 1.7; Lesson 3, on the cosmos, whether it is created or not—cf. Aët. 2.4; Lesson 4, on the cosmos, whether it is single or multiple or infinite in number—cf. Aët. 2.1; Lesson 5, on providence, whether it exists or not—cf. Aët. 2.3.

Philo attributes to Moses a definite position (no scepticism here), but in each case except the last he also takes care to outline the position 100 A.P. Bos, “Philo of Alexandria: a Platonist in the Image and Likeness of Aristotle”, The Studia Philonica Annual 10 (1998), 66–86, has argued that Philo has a kind of thinking symbolized by the Chaldeans (on which see further below) in mind; see also my comments at Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit., 121–123.

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of his opponents who take a different point of view. No name-labels are used and Philo states the views in very general terms, but it would not be hard to find representative philosophers for these positions, e.g. the atomists who thought there were infinite kosmoi, but no creating or providential deities. Although the link with doxography is definitely present, Philo as usual adapts it to his own aims. For example, there is a discussion in Aëtius on whether God exists or not, but not whether there is a unique God or multiple deities. Here Philo’s own monotheistic concerns come to the fore. The entire passage is strikingly dogmatic. At its conclusion (§ 172) Philo claims that the person who learns these lessons and imprints them on his soul will lead a blessed life. Some commentators have seen here the beginnings of orthodoxy or credal theology.101 There is a marked tendency in Philo’s exegesis, which should be investigated more thoroughly than it is possible to do in this context, to identify scriptural characters or groups of people with ways or kinds of thinking. We note in the passage quoted above that he speaks of “the polytheistic opinion” (he polutheos doxa). Elsewhere this is the way of thinking that Abraham leaves behind when he emigrates from his native country (Virt. 214), while the representative of the atheistic opinion (he atheos doxa) is the Pharaoh of Egypt, who states in Ex 5:2 that he knows not the Lord (cf. Leg. 3.12–13). Another example is his interpretation of the biblical figures of Cain and Abel. The former represents the doxa that ascribes all things to the mind or the self, the other to God.102 When Cain challenges Abel to proceed to the plain, they go out to “make investigation concerning opposed and conflicting doxai” (Det. 32). Another prominent group are the Chaldeans. They represent a mistaken theological view, namely that the visible cosmos or its soul is the “first god” (Migr. 181), which in doxographical shorthand is called “the Chaldean doxa” (Migr. 184).103 A final quite fascinating example is Philo’s exegesis of the various groups of people such as eunuchs and prostitutes who are banished from the holy assembly in Deut: 23. A number of texts interpret these as opinions or doctrines with which Philo as a pious but also philosophically orientated Jew strongly dis101 See A. Mendelson, Philo’s Jewish Identity (Atlanta 1988), 29–50, and my comments at Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit., 394. 102 Cf. Sacr. 2, Det. 32, Post. 39–42. There seems to be no distinction between the terms δγμα and δξα in these texts. 103 Cf. also Gig. 62, Migr. 187, Her. 289, Abr. 70, 77, Virt. 214.

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agrees, such as atheism, polytheism, deniers of the ideas or forms, champions of the mind (i.e. human autonomy) and of the senses.104 These opinions are all presented quite anonymously and it is pointless to identify them too closely with Greek philosophers or schools. The doxographical method is here adapted to the purposes of religious doctrine linked to the allegorical method of interpreting Scripture. h. Ethical doxography It will be recalled that in the examples that Philo gives of the dissensio philosophorum as part of the trope of Aenesidemus, he includes the domain of ethics.105 An extended example is given on the good, with some thinkers regarding the good as only what is (morally) fine and stored up in the soul, while others also include in it bodily and external goods (Ebr. 200–201). Philo adds that also in relation to ways of life (bioi) and ends (tele) there are many questions on which no agreement has been reached (§ 201). It is clear that in his writings Philo makes periodic use of the substantial amount of ethical doxography that was circulating in his day. An illuminating example is found in Somn. 2.8–9, where he returns to the question of the nature of the good and presents the same opposition between the more austere thinkers who associate the good only with reason, as opposed to those who have a softer, more effeminate way of life and associate it with bodily and external things as well. The evaluative adjectives are of course Philo’s own addition and the reason for them becomes immediately apparent when the different opinions are associated with the patriarchs Isaac and Joseph respectively (§§ 10– 16). Joseph receives a very mixed press in Philo’s allegories.106 His position is not the one that Philo himself appears to favour. But in another text which gives exegesis of Gen 15:18 Philo interprets the “land from the river of Egypt to the great river Euphrates” as symbolizing the perfection that arises from the three categories of spiritual, corporeal and external goods, a doctrine which is attributed to “Aristotle and the 104 See esp. Spec. 1.327–345, but also Leg. 3.7–8 (where the γονορρυς is linked with the Heraclitean doxa of universal flux), Ebr. 213, Migr. 69, Mut. 204–205. 105 See above section 4 (c). 106 A similar text at Det. 7. On Philo’s interpretation of the Joseph figure see R. Goulet, La philosophie de Moïse: essai de reconstruction d’un commentaire philosophique préphilonien du Pentateuque (Paris 1987), 341–350; M. Niehoff, The Figure of Joseph in Post-Biblical Jewish Literature (Leiden 1992), 54–83.

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Peripatetics”, but also to the “legislation of Pythagoras” (QG 3.16). In another text in the Quaestiones Philo interprets the princes of Gen 27:29 as those who “preside over certain doxai” connected with the body and external goods (QG 4.217).107 It would appear that Philo is well acquainted with a body of ethical doxography, which he occasionally refers to as such in his work, but which he mainly adapts for use in his exegesis, so that the various allegorised biblical characters represent the contrasted points of view. Numerous examples can be given. I will give just one, Fug. 147– 148. Pharaoh seeks to destroy Moses after he flees his court (Ex 2:15), because he has heard that Moses has undertaken to destroy the hegemony of the body in two attacks (cf. Ex 2:12–13). The first man whom Moses kills and covers with sand is an Egyptian. He represents the two doctrines (dogmata) that “the first and greatest good is pleasure”, and that “atoms are the first principles of the universe”, the tertium comparationis in the latter case being the scattered nature of sand. The connection of course lies in the fact that both doctrines are Epicurean.108 The second is a Hebrew, symbolizing the person who splits up the nature of the good and assigns it to the soul, the body and external things, whereas Moses wishes to retain the good as a whole and assign it to the understanding alone. Philo can thus exploit some very common doxographical themes in order to establish a hierarchy of three doctrines which correlates neatly with the details of the biblical passage. The notion of the greatest good referred to in the above passage refers to the doctrine of chief ends of human life and action, which was the central question dealt with in Hellenistic ethical doxographies.109 As Carlos Lévy has noted, Philo—perhaps surprisingly—does not make use of the celebrated divisiones on this subject associated with the names of Chrysippus and Carneades which are so prominent in the works of Cicero.110 For Philo, of course, the question of whether the telos should be pleasure or virtue is hardly controversial, but as we have seen, he is 107 The Old Latin translation helps us understand the Armenian text here and makes it likely that Philo used the term δξαι; cf. F. Petit, L’ancienne version latine des Questions sur la Genèse de Philon d’Alexandrie (Berlin 1973), 2.131. 108 The same connection is made at Leg. 3.38, Conf. 144. 109 See the vast collection of material in M. Giusta, I dossografi di etica, cit., 1.217–429, but with the proviso stated above at n. 23. 110 “Deux problèmes doxographiques” (above n. 18), 100–101; on these ethical divisiones in Cicero see further K.A. Algra, “Chrysippus, Carneades, Cicero: the Ethical divisiones in Cicero’s Lucullus”, in B. Inwood–J. Mansfeld (eds.), Assent and Argument. Studies in Cicero’s Academic Books (Leiden 1997), 107–139.

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able to include it in the interplay of biblical characters in his exegesis. The relation between doxographical schemata in the area of ethics and biblical exposition in Philo is a promising subject for research, but we cannot explore it further in the present context. 5. Conclusion The results of our research into the subject of Philo and Hellenistic doxography can be summarized from a double perspective. Philo’s writings provide us with valuable evidence on the prevalence and function of doxography at the end of the Hellenistic period. Various passages indicate that he had access to collections of placita which were very similar to those we find in Aëtius, but are not the same and probably go back to common traditions for which we also find evidence in Cicero and others. In certain cases the context is more or less descriptive, e.g. setting out the questions that are discussed in philosophy. But more often it is dialectical or disputative, i.e. referring to disputes between rival views and the schools that maintained them. It is striking how many of the texts that make use of doxographical material have a sceptical colouring, both in terminology and in content. This certainly reflects the developed usage of the material in the New Academy and Pyrrhonist tradition. Especially noteworthy was the evidence that Philo presents as earliest witness to the use of doxographical material by Aenesidemus on his ten tropes. But there are also texts, primarily in Philo’s philosophical treatises, where there is little or no trace of sceptical attitudes, and doxography is used to organize and evaluate diverse corpora of doctrine and argument. Philo’s own usage of doxographical material cannot be divorced from the philosophical background just sketched, but as always he is very much his own man. Directly or indirectly, doxography is used in service of the exposition and defence of Scripture and the author who received divine inspiration to write it down, the great Moses. On the whole he is not very interested in recording the names of philosophers and schools. The majority of his doxographical references are anonymous. Essentially this coheres with the spirit of doxography, because the doxai are always more important than the name-labels. Philo goes further in withholding names than, say, Cicero or Plutarch because he is not very interested in the subtleties of school successions or traditions. The broad outlines are mostly sufficient for his purposes.

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At the simplest level doxography can supply topoi which allow Philo to indicate the kind of questions involved in philosophy and the search for wisdom. It is striking, however, how many of these texts have a sceptical tinge, with emphasis on the disagreements that preclude an easy path to knowledge. Philo is acutely aware of the limits of human knowledge, but he is far from being a true sceptic. The wise man sits in judgment and delivers his verdict on the really important questions. For Philo this certainly does not mean any kind of autonomy of thought, but a deference to Scripture written by the wise man par excellence with the aid of divine inspiration. The dialectical and disputatious background of ancient doxography appears at many points in the Philonic evidence. It is no surprise that doxography is prominent in the philosophical treatises which discuss contentious philosophical issues relevant to Jewish thought. But doxographical material also shines through more than we might expect in the exegetical works. It occurs prominently when Philo is defending Mosaic doctrine, for example in the famous passage at the end of De opificio. Moreover, in his allegorical readings of Scripture he also uses it to explicate many views that he supports or opposes which are located within the narrative itself, for example in the case of characters such as Cain and Abel, Abraham, Joseph, and also within the prescriptions of the Mosaic law, as in the case of the various groups that are banished from the holy assembly. Jewish religion for Philo is not just about devotion to God and obedience to the divine law expressed in right action. It is also about right thinking. In Philo’s case it is not coincidental that orthodoxy and doxography share the common root of the word ‘doxa’. In various ways, both negatively and positively, doxography aids him in elucidating both what right thinking is and how and where it is to be obtained. Doxography is pressed into service for the hairesis of Moses, which in matters philosophical commands Philo’s ultimate allegiance.111

111 On Philo and the hairesis of Moses see my article, “Philo of Alexandria and the Greek Hairesis-Model”, Vigiliae Christianae 53 (1999), 117–147.

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Appendix. Passages in De somniis and De mutatione nominum referring to doxographical material 112 a. Somn. 1.14–16, 21–24, 25, 30–34 § 14. The following topic would be to inquire for what reason, when four wells had been dug by Abraham and Isaac and their team, it was the fourth and final one that was called ‘oath’.113 § 15. Perhaps he wishes to set before us by means of allegory the following doctrine, that while there are in the universe four constituents out of which the universe is composed, and there are in us the same number from which we have been moulded and shaped into human form, three of these have the nature that they one way or other can be perceived, but the fourth remains incomprehensible for all agents of cognition. § 16. In the case of the cosmos earth and water and air and heaven make up the four constituents out of which it is all composed. Of these three have been allotted a portion that is difficult but not completely impossible to discover … § 21. All of these (elements) we perceive, but heaven has a nature that is incomprehensible and it sends us no sure indication of itself. For what could we say? That it is a solid mass of crystal, as some have maintained? Or that it is the purest fire? Or that it is a fifth body that moves in a circle, having no share of any of the four elements? What further? The fixed and outermost sphere, does it have upward depth, or is it nothing else than a surface without depth, just like plane geometrical figures? § 22. What further? Are the stars just lumps of earth filled with fire— for some have stated that they are glens and groves and fiery clumps, but it is these men themselves who are deserving of a prison and a mill-house, places where such things are kept as instruments of punishment of the impious—, or are they a continuous and, as someone has said, dense harmony, indissoluble compressions of ether? And are 112 The translations are my own, but are partly indebted to Colson’s Loeb Classical Library version and to the fine translations of David Winston in Philo of Alexandria: The Contemplative life, The Giants and Selections (New York–Toronto 1981). 113 That the well of the Oath was the fourth is not specifically stated in the Bible, but is a deduction made by combining the three wells of Gen 26:19–22 with the well of the Oath mentioned in Gen 26:23, but the latter had already been mentioned in Gen 21:25–31. This explains why Philo mentions both Abraham and Isaac.

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they ensouled and intelligent, or do they not share in intelligence and soul? And do they have motions that are voluntary, or are these under compulsion of necessity only? § 23. What further? Does the moon contribute a gleam of its own or a borrowed gleam illuminated by solar rays, or is it neither of these by and of its own, but rather a mixture produced from both, as if from its own and from a foreign fire together? All these and similar features pertaining to heaven, the finest and fourth of the cosmic elements, are unclear and beyond comprehension, the result of conjecture and likelihood and not of the secure reasoning of truth, § 24. so that you could confidently swear that no human being will ever have the capacity to comprehend any of these things with clarity. For this reason the fourth well, which was dry, was called ‘oath’, the endless and utterly elusive quest for knowledge of the fourth of the elements in the cosmos, heaven. § 25. But let us see in what way the fourth element in ourselves too quite distinctively and in particular measure has a nature that is beyond comprehension. The four highest components in our make-up are body, sense-perception, reason, intellect. Of these three are not in every aspect unclear, but possess in themselves some indications which allow them to be comprehended … § 30. Is, then, the fourth element in our own make-up, the ruling intellect, able to be comprehended? Certainly not. For what do we think it is in its essence? Spirit or blood or body in general? It is not body, but must be declared incorporeal. Or is it limit or form or number or continuity or harmony, or whatever else among things that exist? § 31. At our birth, is it immediately introduced from outside, or is the warm nature within us hardened by the surrounding air to the strongest degree, like inflamed iron in the smithy when it is plunged in cold water? This appears to be the reason why it is called “soul” (psyche) from the process of cooling (psyxis). What further? When we die, is it extinguished and does it perish together with the body, or does it live on for quite some time, or is it completely imperishable? § 32. And where in the body does the intellect have its hiding place? Does it have an home allotted to it? Some have consecrated the head as its location, the citadel in us where the senses too have their station, thinking it reasonable that they be situated nearby like the bodyguards of a great king. But there are others who have determined that it is carried as a sacred image in the heart and contentiously maintain this view. § 33. So it is always the fourth item that is incomprehensible, the heaven in the cosmos as compared with the nature of air and earth

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and water, the intellect in the human being as compared with body and sense-perception and speech acting as an interpreter. Perhaps, then, it is for this reason that the fourth year is also clarified in the sacred Scriptures as “holy and praiseworthy” (Lev 19:24). § 34. For among those things that have come into being, that which is ‘holy’ is in the case of the cosmos heaven where those natures that are indestructible and enduring throughout the ages make their revolutions, while in the case of the human being it is the intellect, which is a divine fragment, as the words of Moses in particular declare: “and he breathed onto his face the breath of life and the human being became a living soul” (Gen 2:7). b. Somn. 1.52–56 § 52. It is stated that Terah left the land of Chaldea and migrated to Haran, taking with him his son Abraham and the relatives of his household … for the purpose that a suitable lesson which is of the greatest value for human life should not be neglected. § 53. What is this lesson? The Chaldeans practise astronomy, whereas the citizens of Haran are engaged in studying the topic of the senses. The sacred word thus says to the investigator of the realities of nature: why do you seek to know about the sun whether it is the size of a foot, whether is larger than the entire earth, whether it is many times larger? Why do you seek to know about the illuminations of the moon, whether it has a borrowed gleam or whether it makes use of a gleam that it entirely its own? Why do you seek to know about the nature of the other heavenly bodies, whether it be about their revolution or about the way that they affect each other and things that happen here on earth? § 54. Why when you are standing on earth do you leap beyond the clouds? Why do you say that you can engage with the ethereal beings when you are firmly rooted to the solid ground? Why do you dare to determine what cannot be determined? Why do you occupy yourself with what you should leave alone, the heavenly phenomena? Why do you extend your scientific ingenuity right up to heaven? Why do you practise astronomy by meddling with the things on high? Do not, dear friend, investigate what is beyond you and above you, but what is near to you, or rather discover yourself without any self-flattery. § 55. How, then, will you discover yourself ? Take a journey with your intellect to Haran, the place that is dug out, the holes and openings of the body, and examine eyes, ears, nostrils and the other organs of sense-

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perception. Practise the philosophy that is most necessary and fitting for a human being, examining what sight is, what hearing is, what taste is, what smell is, what touch is, what in general sense-perception is. Then go on to examine what the act of seeing is and how you see, what the act of hearing is and how you hear, what the acts of smell and taste and touch are and how each of them take place. § 56. Is it not an excess of madness to investigate the universe before you have made a proper examination of your own home? And there is a greater command that I have not yet imposed on you, to observe your own soul and intellect of which you have such a high opinion (I say “observe”, for you will never be able to comprehend it) … c. Mut. 67 (explaining the etymology of Abram as “father raised on high”) Allegorizing the term ‘raised on high’, therefore, we declare that it represents the person who lifts himself from the earth on high and examines the phenomena above the earth, taking on the role of the investigator and student of things on high. He researches what the size of the sun is, what its motions are, how it regulates the seasons of the year by advancing and retreating again in revolutions of equal speed, and in the case of the moon he investigates its illuminations, its changes of shape, its waning and waxing, while in the case of the other heavenly bodies he investigates their motion, both as fixed stars and as planets.

PHILO AND POST-ARISTOTELIAN PERIPATETICS

Robert W. Sharples Discussion of the influence on Philo of Peripatetics after Aristotle himself necessarily falls into two parts: consideration of the treatise On the Eternity of the World (De aeternitate mundi), and consideration of the rest of Philo’s works. For it is in On the Eternity of the World that use of Peripatetic material is most strikingly apparent.1

I. On the Eternity of the World At the start of his treatise Philo sets out (§ 7) three possible views; that the present world-order had a beginning and will have an end;2 that it has neither beginning nor end; that it had a beginning but will have no end. The first, as he indicates, was the view of the Stoics,3 and also, in a different way, of the Atomists, including the Epicureans;4 the 1 According to the TLG (which includes only texts preserved in Greek) Aristotle himself is named in Philo only in De aeternitate mundi (10, 12, 16, 18) and Peripatetics only in the same work, at 55 in connection with Critolaus. The same is true of Theophrastus (see the index fontium to FHS&G = W.W. Fortenbaugh–P.M. Huby–R.W. Sharples– D. Gutas (eds.), Theophrastus of Eresus. Sources for his Life, Writings, Thought and Influence, Leiden 1992). Wehrli’s only entries for Philo in the index fontium to Die Schule des Aristoteles (Basel 19692), are Critolaus frr. 12 and 13, both from De aeternitate. A further reference to ‘Aristotle and the Peripatetics’ is added by QG 3.16, preserved only in Armenian; below, section II. 2 Or, to translate more literally, was generated and will be destroyed. The Greek terms γενητς and φ"αρτς are (as are Greek verbal nouns in -τς generally) ambiguous from an English point of view; γενητς can mean either “generated” or “capable of being generated”, γενητς either “capable of perishing” or “that will perish”. But it is odd to say of a world that now exists that it is “capable of being generated”. That the world “will have no end” or “will not perish” means, for Aristotle, that in its own nature it cannot do so; for Plato and for Philo (below, n. 6) that it could do but will not. 3 Or most of them. Philo does not mention the exceptions here, but later in the treatise (76–77) notes that Diogenes of Babylon came to doubt the orthodox Stoic doctrine of the periodic destruction of the world by fire, and that Boethus of Sidon and Panaetius rejected it. See below, section I.4. 4 For the Atomists our world is but one of an infinite number, an infinite subset of which exists contemporaneously with it, while for the Stoics only one world exists at any one time.

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second that of Aristotle and his followers;5 the third that of Plato in the Timaeus.6 In himself endorsing the third view7 Philo is, as always, led by his own scriptural and theological concerns; but he is also entering into a debate, prompted above all by the Timaeus, which continued throughout antiquity. Like others later,8 he cites Plat. Tim. 41a for the view that the world could perish but through divine benevolence will not do so (13); here as elsewhere in Philo it is in this sense that the claim that the world will have no end should be understood.9 In the text of the treatise as we have it, after the introductory section, Philo sets out arguments for the view that the world has neither beginning nor end.10 At the end he says that he will go on to give the counter-arguments;11 but this part of the treatise is missing.12 5 Philo at this point (10–11, Aristotle fr. 18 Rose3, 18 Ross) names only Aristotle himself. See further below, section I.5. 6 Philo explicitly endorses the reading of the Timaeus as indicating a literal beginning for the world (14–16), explicitly arguing inter alia that Aristotle, who interpreted Plato in this way, is a reliable source for the views of his predecessors (16), an issue on which modern scholarship would at any rate be more cautious. Cf. D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, Vigiliae Christianae 35 (1981), 134, and Id., “Plato’s Timaeus, First Principle(s), and Creation”, in G.J. Reydams-Schils (ed.), Plato’s Timaeus as Cultural Icon (Notre Dame 2003), 137–139 against attribution of a doctrine of ‘eternal creation’ to Philo. 7 He attributes it to Moses (19). 8 The view was later defended by Plutarch, Atticus and Severus (Procl. In Tim. 3.212.8; cf. Atticus, fr. 4.8–17, p. 52.43–54.109 des Places) and attacked in turn by Alexander of Aphrodisias (Quaest. 1.18, and ap. Simpl. In Cael. 358.27–360.3). Cf. M. Baltes, Die Weltentstehung des platonischen Timaios nach den antiken Interpreten, Teil 1 (Leiden 1976), 50, 61, 76–81, 104; J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London 1977, 19962), 262. M. Baltes, Die Weltentstehung des platonischen Timaios, cit., 70 also finds the doctrine in D.L. 3.72, but this depends on reading =ν for ε9ς. 9 Cf., with F.H. Colson, Philo (London–Cambridge, Mass. 1967), vol. 9, 173 n.(b), Decal. 58; M. Baltes, Die Weltentstehung des platonischen Timaios, cit., 32–38, and D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, cit., 132 and n. 116, 135. 10 Cf. 20. 11 There has been debate about what these were. F.H. Colson, Philo, cit., 177 n.(a) notes that προτ0ρους in 20 suggests that only two views were considered, and proposes that these were the Peripatetic and Stoic views, so that Philo will first have argued for the Peripatetic view that the world has neither beginning nor end, and then for the Stoic view that it has both. One might rather expect arguments for the Platonic view that the world had a beginning but will have no end; and that this was indeed the content of the missing section is persuasively argued by D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, cit.; he suggests (136–138) that in the missing part Philo argued against the Peripatetic view that the world is imperishable by its own nature, and that Philo might have used the argument refuted by Theophrastus at 143–144 (below, I.1) once more against the Aristotelians. 12 Against the view that it was never written see D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, cit., 134–135.

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The result is that the greater part of what we have is an exposition of arguments for the view that the world has neither beginning nor end, directed against the claim that it has both. These arguments are relevant to our theme in two ways, first in that two groups of them derive in whole or in part from named post-Aristotelian Peripatetics, Theophrastus and Critolaus, and second that the question arises whether not only these groups but others of these arguments too were transmitted to Philo by a Peripatetic text in which they had been collected together. These arguments fall into four main groups (though in some cases there is room for argument about the unity of the groups): A. Aet. 20– 54, B. 55–75, C. 79–116 and D. 117–149. D. is attributed to Theophrastus (c. 371–c. 287 BC), Aristotle’s colleague and successor as head of the Lyceum, and parts at least of B. to Critolaus, the head of the Lyceum who took part in the famous diplomatic mission of philosophers to Rome in 156/5 BC. It will be convenient to discuss D. and B. first, in that order, and then proceed more briefly to A. and C. I.1. On the Eternity of the World, 117–149: Theophrastus13 Philo here presents four arguments for the world having had an origin, followed by four replies. The arguments and the replies may most easily be summarised in tabular form: D1 = 118–119

The unevenness of the land shows the earth is recent

ad D1 = 132–137

New mountains are created

D2 = 120–123

The receding of the sea shows that water, and also earth and air, will be used up and all will become fire14

ad D2 = 138–142

The sea is receding in some places, advancing in others

13 = Theophrastus fr. 184 FHS&G. See the commentary in R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus. Sources for his Life, Writings, Thought and Influence, 3.1. Sources on Physics (texts 137–223). With contributions on the Arabic material by D. Gutas (Leiden 1998), 131– 142. 14 This at first sight seems Stoic; but cf. D.N. Sedley, Lucretius and the Transformation of Greek Wisdom (Cambridge 1998), 178 = Id., “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, in J. van Ophuisjen–M. van Raalte (eds.), Theophrastus. Reappraising the Sources (New Brunswick 1998), 344.

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D3 = 124–129

All four elements perish, so the whole world will perish

ad D3 = 143–144

The elements are preserved by their mutual transformation

D4 = 130–13215

The recent origin of the crafts shows the human race is recent, and therefore the world is too

ad D4 = 145–149

The crafts are periodically lost due to conflagration and flood, and have to be rediscovered16

What Philo actually attributes to Theophrastus is simply the initial summary list of the four arguments D1–D4; but it is generally agreed that the basic structure of arguments and responses derives from him, though some of the examples and probably more of the language are Philo’s own.17 It used to be thought that Theophrastus was himself replying to Stoic arguments. However, David Sedley has shown, in a brilliant piece of detective work reconstructing the sequence of the ancient debate, that Theophrastus was collecting arguments from a variety of sources including Arist. Meteor. Α 14 and the Timaeus itself,18 in the context of a debate largely prompted by discussion of Plato’s account of the origin of the world in that work,19 and that Epicurus’ arguments for our world having had an origin, reflected in Lucr. 5.236–350, are in fact a counterresponse to Theophrastus, specifically blocking some of his points.20 Probably added by Philo himself are the example of Delos in 121 (where the confusion between Anaphe and Delos, and the treatment of Delos as an island emerging from the sea rather than as a floating island which became fixed was used by H. Diels, DG 108 to support his view that On the Eternity of the World was not by Philo but by an 15 In the initial summary (117) this argument is given rather as the perishing of whole kinds of land animals. As D.N. Sedley, “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, cit., 339–340, points out, this is more relevant to the reply (ad D1), and therefore suggests that the reply too derives from Theophrastus. 16 The doctrine of the eternity of the human race is attributed to Aristotle, Theophrastus and many other Peripatetics (as well as other philosophers, including Ocellus Lucanus and Plato) by Cens. De die nat. 4.3 (Theophrastus, fr. 185 FHS&G); see R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus, cit., 3.1, 142–143. 17 See the discussions cited in R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus, cit. 3.1, 132 n. 365. 18 D.N. Sedley, Lucretius, cit., 177–179 = “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, cit., 343–345. 19 D.N. Sedley, Lucretius, cit., 178 = “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, cit., 344. 20 D.N. Sedley, Lucretius, cit., 168–176 = “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, cit., 333–341.

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ignorant imitator), the dubiously relevant story of the snakes and elephants in 59–77, and the reference to Atlantis (with explicit citation of the Timaeus) in 141.21 Less certain is the reference to destruction by fire as well as flood in 145–149, based on Tim. 22c–23a; D.T. Runia (Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, cit., 83–84) argued that this was introduced by Philo, on the grounds that Aristotle only refers to destruction by flood, but D.N. Sedley (Lucretius, cit., 172 = “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, 338) argues that Theophrastus may have been making use of the Timaeus here. I.2. On the Eternity of the World, 55–75: Critolaus B1. The first argument attributed to Critolaus is that the human race has always existed, and therefore the world has always existed (55). In the course of initially stating Critolaus’ argument, in a terse and logical form, Philo says that the eternity of the human race will be shown subsequently; he then proceeds to give an argument, with a considerable degree of literary elaboration, rejecting the mythical account of the first humans having sprung full-grown from the earth on the grounds that if this were possible it would still occur (56–69), and countering the objection that the earth may be weaker now than it once was with a rhetorical excursus on the productivity of the earth (62–64).22 One might suspect that much of the elaboration, if not all of the argument of 56–69, was due to Philo himself,23 though the reference in 62 to the purification of the earth by flooding in Egypt “as they say” is rather surprising from Philo’s pen.24 Wehrli included only 55 in his collection of the fragments of Critolaus (fr. 13). D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986), 84–85. The claim that the earth is less productive than it was is found in Lucretius (2.1150–1174, 5.826–836), contradicting his use of argument D4 from the recent origin of the crafts (5.324–350); the contradiction is noted by D.N. Sedley, Lucretius, cit., 170 = “Theophrastus and Epicurean Physics”, cit., 336, arguing that the idea that the world is in decline was the standard Epicurean view, the idea that its origin is recent an expedient accepting Theophrastus’ objection to D4 (145) that if the world is as recent as the crafts it will be very recent indeed. 23 F.H. Colson, Philo, cit., 176, comparing in particular the complaint about poetic expression of myths in 56 with Spec. 1.28, and the description of the fertility of the earth in 63 ff. with Mos. 1.212, Spec. 1.34, Praem. 41 = Arist. De phil. fr. 12 Rose3; R. Arnaldez– J. Pouilloux, Les oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 30: De aeternitate mundi (Paris 1969), 64. 24 H. Diels, DG 107 n. 1, suggests that this is a remark by Critolaus himself uncritically incorporated into the text (the significance of this from Diels’ point of view being that it cannot then be used to deny authorship of the whole treatise to Philo). 21 22

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B2. The world is everlasting because it is the cause of its own existence (70); explicitly attributed to Critolaus (fr. 12 Wehrli). As in 55, the compressed form in which the argument is expressed is reminiscent of Stoic argumentation, but in 70 the logic used is (loosely) Peripatetic— the logic of terms rather than of propositions. B3, not explicitly attributed to Critolaus: if the world came into being it must also have grown, and so been irrational before it became rational (71–73). This argument has force only against those who believe in a rational world-soul, i.e. Stoics—and also Platonists, which may suggest that the argument at any rate is not Platonist in its origin.25 B4. At 74 Philo uses “he says” to introduce the argument that the world cannot be destroyed either by external or internal forces, adding the strange remark that the world is not, like living creatures, subject to disease brought about by gluttony.26 It is difficult to take “he says” as referring back to Critolaus, last mentioned in 70 (B2), if 71–73 (B3) are not regarded as deriving from Critolaus in Philo’s own view at least.27 B5. The following argument (75), that if fate is everlasting the nature of the world will be so too, is not explicitly attributed to Critolaus. However, it draws on the Stoic concept of fate to argue against a Stoic position; here as in 71–73 one is tempted to see a Peripatetic source, and possibly still Critolaus, turning Stoic doctrine against the Stoics themselves.28 For Critolaus’ work in general is characterised by a concern to distance the Peripatetic position from Stoic views.29 F. Wehrli included only sections 55 and 70 in his collection of the fragments of Critolaus; certainly the syllogistic form of these sections 25 There is probably no connection with Plutarch’s irrational world-soul, which in any case precedes the origin of the world as an ordered cosmos. 26 Colson, Philo, cit., 236–237 n.(a), connects this last point with Tim. 73a, and is in doubt whether it is due to Critolaus or is Philo’s addition. See the next note. 27 F. Wehrli, Die Schule des Aristoteles: 10. Hieronymos von Rhodos. Kritolaos und seine Schüler, cit., does not include 74 among the fragments of Critolaus at all. Colson, op. cit., on the other hand, adds a reference to Critolaus as subject of “he says” in his translation, and R. Arnaldez–J. Pouilloux, Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 30, cit. 124–125 n. 1 interpret similarly. B4 is defended as from Critolaus by J. Mansfeld, “Providence and the Destruction of the Universe in Early Stoic Thought”, in M.J. Vermaseren (ed.), Studies in Hellenistic Religions (Leiden 1979), 186 n. 194. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 185 and 197, sees it as argument as deriving from Aristotle’s On Philosophy, comparing 20–24 (A1 below). 28 D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 146, attributes the argument of 75 to Critolaus. Cf. H. Diels, DG, 108. 29 See R.W. Sharples, “Natural Philosophy in the Peripatos after Strato”, in W.W. Fortenbaugh–S.A. White (eds.), Aristo of Ceos (New Brunswick 2006), 323–324.

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contrasts sharply with the manner of the material in 56–69. H. von Arnim, in Quellenstudien zu Philo, I. Über die Pseudophilonische Schrift Περ1 φ"αρσ.ας κσμου (Berlin 1888), 11–12, argued that the whole of 55–75 came from Critolaus, but that B2 and B4 came from a different work from the others; in his view (cf. p. 16 and 40) B1, B3 and B5 came from an anti-Stoic work, the others not. Against von Arnim, K. Reinhardt, in Kosmos und Sympathie: neue Untersuchungen über Poseidonios (Munich 1926), 24 n. 1, held that some of the arguments are later than Critolaus himself, D.T. Runia (Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, cit., 315 n. 19) argues that there is more from Critolaus than Wehrli allows. There seems no reason to reject Critolaus’ authorship of B3–B5, other than the fact that the schematic logical formulation at the start of B1 and B2 is missing in the subsequent arguments, but equally no conclusive reason to assert it. I.3. On the Eternity of the World, 20–54: Aristotle At the start of his discussion, before the arguments attributed to Critolaus, Philo advances the following six arguments: A1. The world cannot be destroyed by anything outside it or by anything inside it (20–27, cf. B4 above). A2. Destruction is return of parts to their natural positions (entropy, in effect), but the parts of the world are in their natural positions (28–34). A3. If nature preserves the part, a fortiori it will preserve the whole (35– 38). A4. God can have no motive to destroy the world, whether permanently or in order to replace it with another (39–44). A5. Destruction of the world involves destruction of the divine heavenly bodies and of divine providence (45–51). A6. Time is everlasting, so the world must be (52–54). It has generally been accepted that parts at least of arguments A1, A2 and A4 derive, directly or indirectly, from Aristotle’s lost treatise On Philosophy, though there is no explicit reference to that work in the text. 30 30 20–24, from a1, are Arist. De philos. fr. 19 Rose3, 19a Ross; 28–34 = A2 are fr. 20 Rose3, 19b Ross; 39–43, from A4, are fr. 21 Rose3, 19c Ross. 20–24 are followed by a quotation from Tim. 32c, at 25–26, showing that the world is imperishable because it is a whole; but, as Colson, Philo, cit., 175, points out, this is immediately followed by the

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Runia has argued persuasively that A3 is from the same source.31 Arguments A5 and A6, on the other hand, are clearly later in their present form at least. The reference to divine providence in A5 is explicitly directed against the Stoic Chrysippus (45–51), citing his paradoxical argument concerning the destruction of Dion and Theon.32 The Stoic principle that two individuals cannot occupy the same substance, cited here at 48, is used against the Stoic conflagration, in a slightly different way, by Plutarch;33 it may be felt that the similarity between Plutarch’s and Philo’s arguments can hardly be due to coincidence, and may therefore be evidence for an anti-Stoic common source. A6 cites Tim. 37e for the point that time cannot exist without the world and explicitly counters a possible Stoic reply.34

Aristotelian argument that imperishability, as in the Timaeus, implies not having been generated, so we are dealing with a use of the Timaeus to uphold Aristotelian doctrine. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 197, argues that this quotation has been inserted by Philo. F.H. Colson, Philo, cit., 179, says that the arguments of 20–54 “have been ascribed to (presumably) the Peripatetic school in general” (my emphasis). 31 D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 191–193. A3 concludes with a quotation from Timaeus 33c, making the slightly different point that the world is a self-contained whole; cf. D.T. Runia, ibid., 188 and 196. Runia argues (196–197) that the Platonic quotation has been added by Philo. 32 = SVF 2.397 = 28 P Long-Sedley. The argument is explained by A.A. Long–D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers (Cambridge 1987), vol. 1, 175: if Theon is the name given to Dion minus his (still attached) foot, and Dion’s foot is then actually amputated so that the distinction between Dion and Theon can no longer be drawn and one of them must no longer exist, it will be Theon who has perished, presumably because we will then have to say ‘Dion has lost his foot’, rather than ‘Theon has lost his foot’—since Theon never had it—and Dion will therefore still exist. 33 Plut. De comm. not. 36.1077d–e = SVF 2.396 + 1064 = 28 O Long-Sedley; Colson, Philo, cit., 528–529. Whereas Philo argues from the example of Dion and Theon (see the previous note) that when the world loses its body in the conflagration (analogously to Dion losing his foot) it is the world that survives and therefore its soul (analogous to the originally footless Theon) that is destroyed, the soul being equated with providence, Plutarch argues more straightforwardly that the survival of both Zeus and his providence in the conflagration contravenes the principle that two individuals cannot occupy one substance; cf. A.A. Long–D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, cit., 174– 175. 34 M. Baltes, Die Weltentstehung, cit., 87–88 argues from the use of the Timaeus quotation that this argument may derive from Platonist supporters of the non-literal interpretation of the Timaeus using Aristotelian arguments to defend Plato against Aristotelian criticism. It seems easier to suppose that Peripatetics are using the Timaeus in defence of their own view.

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I.4. On the Eternity of the World, 76–116: the dissident Stoics, and other arguments Finally, between the arguments discussed under D. (I.1 above, Theophrastus) and B. (I.2, Critolaus) Philo gives a series of arguments introduced by a reference to dissident Stoics who rejected the theory of the periodic conflagration, and in particular to Boethus of Sidon (76–78): C1. The world cannot be destroyed by anything outside or inside it (78: cf. A1 and B4).35 C2. None of the recognised modes of destruction can apply to the world (79–82). C3. When the world is destroyed in the conflagration, God will be inactive (83–84). C4. In the conflagration, fire will be altogether extinguished, so the world cannot begin over again (85–99). C5. The world will be smaller than the seed from which it grows (100– 103). C6. In the conflagration opposites will not co-exist (104–105). C1 is explicitly attributed to the associates (ο? περ.) of Boethus,36 and C2 is attributed to them by implication. C3–C6 relate specifically to Stoic doctrine;37 in connection with C6 we may note that the necessary co-existence of opposites was used by Chrysippus as an explanation of the existence of evil in the world between conflagrations. The question therefore arises whether all of C1–C6 are derived from the dissident Stoics;38 but the much greater elaboration of C4 may be due to Philo himself, and the reference at 102 to the Stoics, in general, as accepting the conflagration indicates that the expression of the arguments is by 35 F.H. Colson, Philo, cit., 240 n.(a); D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 185. 36 K. Reinhardt, Kosmos und Sympathie, cit., 22–24, argues against the attribution of any of the arguments to Boethus himself. 37 So, of C1–C5, B. Effe, Studien zur Kosmologie und Theologie der aristotelischen Schrift Über die Philosophie (Munich 1970), 9. 38 J. Mansfeld, “Providence and the Destruction of the Universe in Early Stoic Thought”, cit., 187, leaves it open whether 94–103 (the latter part of C4, concerned specifically with countering the argument from the analogy of a seed, and C5) derive from a Peripatetic or a dissident Stoic source. Arnaldez and Pouilloux, op. cit., 137–138 n. 5, argue that the materialist notion of fire in 88 shows that this part of the argument is from Boethus.

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this point Philo’s even if the source is still Stoic. The question also arises whether the dissident Stoics were themselves drawing on Peripatetic sources.39 Philo continues with two further arguments: C7. It is arbitrary to say that the world is converted to just one of the four elements; in fact the elements constantly change into each other (107–112). This argument can hardly be Stoic, as even a dissident Stoic would presumably not question the primacy of fire as a cosmic principle. C8. None of the recognised types of destruction applies to the world (113–116). This echoes C2 above, but here there are four types of destruction (addition, subtraction, transposition, alteration) whereas there three were recognised (division, subtraction of the prevailing quality—a formulation which presupposes Stoic ontological theory—and fusion), and whereas C2 was attributed to dissident Stoics, the present argument is attributed to “some of those who suppose that the world is everlasting”. Bernays argued that the four types of destruction listed here were Peripatetic and Atomist (italics mine) as opposed to Stoic;40 Philo indeed illustrates “transposition” by the example of rotation of letters which is used to explain the atomism of Leucippus and Democritus by Aristotle, Met. Α 4.985b18. This argument, moreover, is immediately followed by those attributed to Theophrastus (above, I.1). One wonders, therefore, if we are now dealing with Peripatetic argument for the eternity of the world against the Atomists, using Atomist principles against the Atomists themselves; and Diels, DG, 108 speculates that Critolaus may be the source. It might at any rate seem unlikely that C2 and C8 can both have been present, but widely separated, in a single source text used by Philo; on the other hand, if Philo himself lists arguments in a poorly organised way, so too could his source.

39 H. von Arnim, Quellenstudien zu Philo, cit., 40–41, raises the question whether the Stoic Boethus was himself influenced by Critolaus. B. Effe, Studien zur Kosmologie, cit., 11–12 argues that C1–C3 form a structure similar to that of A1, A2 and A4, deriving from Aristotle’s On Philosophy; but this assumes A3 is not also from that work, on which point see above, at n. 31. 40 Cf. F.H. Colson, Philo, cit., 264–265 n.(a); R. Arnaldez–J. Pouilloux, op. cit., 153 n. 7. Arnaldez and Pouilloux compare the list of ways of coming-to-be at Philoponus, In Phys. 156.20, but this simply reproduces Aristotle’s own list at Phys. Α 7.190b5, from which three items correspond to Philo’s list; change of shape, addition, subtraction, combination, alteration.

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I.5. What was Philo’s source? It seems likely that, rather than himself collecting Peripatetic arguments from various sources, Philo made use of a discussion that had already done so.41 Von Arnim suggested that this was a Peripatetic source (henceforth P) from the first century BC.42 It is perhaps unlikely for chronological reasons that the dissident Stoic arguments in C1–6 were transmitted in a work by Critolaus himself;43 on the other hand P might well have derived from Critolaus not only Critolaus’ own arguments but also, at least, those of Aristotle (A1–4) and Theophrastus (D1–4).44 Diels’ arguments that the author of On the Eternity of the World (in his view, not Philo himself) had not himself read Aristotle at first-hand are not persuasive.45 41 H. von Arnim, Quellenstudien zu Philo, cit., 39, points out that there is a common pattern in the arguments in A, B and C, considering the possible cause of destruction, the possible modes of destruction, and the possible role of god. This may reflect the shared terms of the debate, rather than the imposition of common features by a source. 42 Von Arnim, Quellenstudien zu Philo, cit., 27. See F. Wehrli, Die Schule des Aristoteles, cit., 65. (M. Pohlenz, “Philo von Alexandreia”, Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften im Göttingen 5 (1942) 415, also cited by Wehrli, supposes a Peripatetic source but does not indicate a date.) 43 Boethus was a pupil of Diogenes of Babylon, who had accompanied Critolaus on the embassy to Rome in 156/155. It seems likely that Critolaus had then already been head of the Peripatetic school for some time, but the sequence of heads of the school in the second century BC is problematic: J.P. Lynch, Aristotle’s School. A History of a Greek Educational Institution (Berkeley 1972), 140–141. Philo reports (77) that Diogenes originally believed in the periodic conflagration of the world, but became doubtful about it late in life; it is reasonable to suppose that he may have been influenced by his pupil. 44 That Theophrastus’ arguments (D) were transmitted by Critolaus was suggested by H. Diels, DG, 107. There is other evidence for Critolaus having (naturally enough) presented his own views as expressing those of Aristotle, which would fit well with his having listed Aristotle’s arguments along with his own; for Epiphanius in a list of Peripatetic views (Diels, DG, 592.9–20) says that Theophrastus held the same views as Aristotle, Praxiphanes held the same views as Theophrastus, and Critolaus held the same views as Aristotle; the most natural explanation of this is that Critolaus himself listed and endorsed Aristotle’s views as he himself understood them (cf. R.W. Sharples, “Natural Philosophy in the Peripatos after Strato”, cit., 320–321). B. Effe, Studien, cit., 19, argues that Critolaus cannot be the source for section 21, which he regards (18) as (from οTτως γρ onwards) an intrusion into the material from Aristotle’s On Philosophy in A1. For Critolaus in 74 (if indeed it derives from him; above, I.2) regards disease as an internal cause of destruction, as does A1 at 24, whereas in 21 it is treated as an external cause. However, even if we accept that an addition has been made and cannot have been made by Critolaus, it may still be the case that at an earlier stage in the transmission the genuine On Philosophy material was transmitted by Critolaus. 45 H. Diels, DG, 107 n. 2. The first passage cited by Diels, from section 10, turns on his own unnecessary emendation of the text. In the second, from section 11, the form

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In Philo’s introductory section, at 12 the doctrine of the eternity of the world is said to have been invented by Pythagoreans not by Aristotle, and Philo says that he has seen the work of ‘Ocellus Lucanus’. Colson notes a number of parallels between the treatise attributed to Ocellus and arguments in Philo’s work.46 Dillon suggests that Philo’s source here may be Eudorus, concerned as a Platonist to deny credit for the idea to Aristotle.47 On the other hand M. Baltes argues that the praise of Aristotle in 10–11 suggests a Peripatetic source, going beyond any praise Philo anywhere accords to Plato, and that the claim at 17 that Hesiod anticipated Plato may also derive from a Peripatetic source.48

II. Physics At Decal. 30–31 Philo gives a standard list of the Aristotelian categories, but identifies being substance as being composed of the four elements earth, air, fire and water, and quality as, for example, being human. J. Dillon (The Middle Platonists, cit., 178–179), sees this as a Stoicizing reading, and supports this by Philo’s use of “shaving” (κε.ρειν) as an example for acting and being affected, comparing D.L. 7.63. Boethus the Peripatetic,49 and probably his teacher Andronicus too, unlike later Peripatetics (and unlike Aristotle himself) regarded form as being in the category of quality;50 they may well have been influenced by Stoicism, consciously or unconsciously, in reading Aristotle in this way. It is possible therefore that Philo was here influenced by contemporary of words “[Aristotle] said, as one can hear …” may be explained by the fact that what follows is indeed a saying in the sense of a dictum. 46 F.H. Colson, Philo, cit., 525: 20–24 ~ Ocellus 1.11 (13); 55 ~ Ocellus 3.1 (38); 70 ~ Ocellus 1.9 (11); 107–110 ~ Ocellus 1.12–13 (14–16). 47 J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 156 n. 1. 48 M. Baltes, Die Weltentstehung, cit., 33–34. For the latter point Baltes compares Alexander, In Cael. cited by Philopon. Aet. mund. contra Proclum 212.20–22 Rabe = Alex. In Cael. fr. 96a Rescigno; cf. Simpl. In Cael. 293.13–15 = Alex. fr. 96b Rescigno, and the discussion at A. Rescigno, Alessandro di Afrodisia. Commentario al De caelo di Aristotele. Frammenti del primo libro (Amsterdam 2004), 540–543, noting that Plut. De def. or. 12.415 f.– 416a refers to those who cited Hesiod in support of the Stoic conflagration, and arguing that Alexander’s and Philo’s version may go back to the early Peripatos. 49 To be distinguished from the earlier Boethus the Stoic, discussed in I.2 above. 50 Simpl. In Cat. 78.19; H.B. Gottschalk, “Aristotelian Philosophy in the Roman World from the Time of Cicero to the End of the Second Century”, in ANRW, II 36.2 (Berlin 1987), 1109.

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Peripatetic discussions, rather than by Stoicism directly. The listing of time and place (rather than ‘where’ and ‘when’) among the categories, as here in Philo, was an innovation by Andronicus.51 In Prov. 2.60 (preserved only in the Armenian version, see M. HadasLebel, Les oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 35: De providentia I et II (Paris 1973), 287–288) the anti-providential theory put forward by the interlocutor includes the claim that upward movements of elements are caused by their being forced upwards by heavier ones.52 This was the theory of Strato53 as well as of Epicurus. M. Hadas-Lebel argues (op.cit. 63–65) that, as the theory reported in Philo’s dialogue is not atomist, Strato is a likely source, but also (65–67) that Philo may have known Strato through a New Academic source making use of him in a debate about providence. A major topic of controversy between Peripatetics and other schools, and also within the Peripatetic school itself, was Aristotle’s doctrine of the fifth heavenly element (rejected by Strato in the third century BC and by Xenarchus in the first century BC). At QG 4.8 Philo uses the fifth element, contrasted with the four sublunary elements, in the context of a three-fold division into the intelligible, the heavens, and the sublunary.54 But in some other passages, as Dillon notes, Philo either uses a four-element theory55 or appears to combine four- and five-element theories by treating the heavenly aither as a particular type of fire.56 However, QG 4.8 is not perhaps as isolated as Dillon may imply. Dillon notes two other passages where the five-element theory 51 Simpl. In cat. 134.5–7; cf. R. Sorabji, “Time, Place and Extracosmic Space”, in R.W. Sharples–R. Sorabji (eds.), Greek and Roman Philosophy, 100 BC to 200 AD (London 2007), vol. 2, 563–574. 52 In the Latin version printed in M. Hadas-Lebel, Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 35, De providentia (Paris 1973): “necessitate videlicet quadam naturae leviora a gravibus sursum pelli contingit”. 53 Strato, frr. 51–53 Wehrli = frr. 50ABD in R.W. Sharples, Strato of Lampsacus forthcoming, where an emendation by Ada Rapoport-Albert to the Hebrew text of Themistius, In Cael., CAG vol. 5.4 p. âì. ll. 27–31 Landauer 1902 = fr. 50C Sharples, removes the assertion, reproduced in the Latin version (fr. 53 Wehrli = fr. 50D Sharples), but in conflict with the other sources, that Strato attributed the downwards movement of earth to pressure rather than to weight. 54 J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 170 n. 1. 55 Her. 152–153 (which refers to the four elements being in proportion in the whole world), QG 3.3; J. Dillon, loc. cit. 56 In Plant. 3 aither is contrasted with sublunary earth, water, air and fire, but at ibid. 6 the argument depends on there being only four elements: J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 170–171. At Opif. 147 man is said to be concerned with all four elements, and contemplation of the heavens is the basis for saying that he is concerned with fire.

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appears, but says that Philo there attributes it to “others, presumably Aristotelians”. In neither of the passages, however, does Philo appear to do anything other than endorse the doctrine. At Her. 283 he connects earth, water air and fire with the body, the soul with the fifth substance “that moves in a circle”, and attributes the latter to the “ancients”, presumably Aristotle, referring to it with the imperative “let there be” (Eστω).57 The passage does not perhaps have to be read as excluding the possibility that aither is a form of fire, but it certainly seems to imply that there is a fifth element. At QE 2.73 Philo attributes to the “moderns” only the term “fifth substance”, not the doctrine itself, and the doctrine itself is required by his argument. And Aristotle himself indeed calls the substance of the heavens “first body”;58 so Philo would seem to be accurate in describing the term “fifth substance” as more recent.59 At QE 2.85, however, Philo refers to the fifth substance as made up of the best parts of all the other elements,60 which seems equally incompatible both with its being a distinct, fifth substance and with its being a special form of fire. Dillon (The Middle Platonists, cit., 171), concludes that Philo, like later Platonists, used the latter notion to harmonise Aristotle’s five-element theory and Plato’s four-element theory, but the passage last cited suggests that Philo’s approach to the question is even less systematic than that; either he was not aware of debate on the topic in which Xenarchus, probably a couple of generations earlier than Philo himself, had played a prominent part, or if he was he did not consider it necessary to take up a definite position on the issue. At Opif. 7 those who hold that the world had no beginning are criticised for attributing inactivity (πραξ.α) to God. This has sometimes been taken as a reference to Aristotelian doctrine,61 but even if it is, there does not seem to be a connection with Hellenistic discussion of 57 Cf. F.H. Colson and G.H. Whitaker, Philo, vol. 4 (London–Cambridge, Mass. 1932), 429 n.(c); M. Harl, Les oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 15: Quis rerum divinarum heres sit (Paris 1966), 309 n. 5. 58 E.g. De caelo, Α 3. 270b3. 59 Cf. H.J. Easterling, “Quinta natura”, Museum Helveticum 21 (1964), 78–80. 60 Cf. A. Terian, Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 34c: Quaestiones et Solutiones in Exodum I et II (Paris 1992), 210 n. 1. 61 R. Arnaldez, Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 1: De opificio mundi (Paris 1961), 146 n. 2; J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 157. However, A.P. Bos, “Philo of Alexandria: a Platonist in the Image and Likeness of Aristotle”, The Studia Philonica Annual 10 (1998), 67–69, argues that the reference is not to Aristotle but to the ‘Chaldeans’, and D.T. Runia, “The Beginnings of the End: Philo of Alexandria and Hellenistic Theology”, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden 2002), 289, agrees, on the grounds that the issue is the

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Aristotle’s view of providence specifically. For the standard interpretation of Aristotle’s view was that God exercises providence over the heavens but not the earth.62 Rather than an allusion to an actual doctrine of providence, Philo’s charge of πραξ.α, if it relates to Aristotle at all, seems more likely to be a straightforward inference from the denial that the world has a beginning; if there was no creation, there is nothing for the Creator to do.63 At Ebr. 171 Philo, listing arguments for scepticism, refers to the first of Aenesidemus’ Ten Modes, from difference between living creatures. In section 172 he says that these differences apply not only to the perceiver but also to what is perceived, and proceeds to illustrate the latter by giving four examples of creatures whose colour changes. The third example (173) is that of the dove’s neck which takes on different colours, depending on how the light falls on it—though Philo does not make the last point explicit; the dove’s neck was a familiar example in debates about the reliability of perception,64 but belongs under Aenesidemus’ fifth mode, from position, not under the first which is elsewhere concerned only with perceivers. The examples that precede and follow it in Philo are at first sight even more anomalous.65 In 172 Philo cites the chameleon and the octopus which change colour to match their background, and in 174 he cites the creature known as tarandros among the Scythians which similarly changes colour to match its background for reasons of camouflage. It is true that creatures that change colour are relevant to scepticism in the sense that it is may not be possible to say what their true colour is,66 but there is no doubt about the colour that they have at any given moment. relation between the world and a higher divine principle, not whether the world had a beginning. 62 See R.W. Sharples, “Aristotelian Theology after Aristotle”, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, cit., 22–26. 63 Philo goes on to attribute to Moses the doctrine of an active and passive principle, which is, as Dillon says, Stoic, but was also presented as the doctrine of the ‘Old Academy’ by Antiochus and attributed to Plato by Theophrastus. See D.N. Sedley, “The Origins of Stoic God”, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, cit., 41–83. 64 Cic. Ac. pr. 2.19, 79; Sen. Nat. 1.7.2; Sext. P 1.120; D.L. 9.86; also, arguing that the atomic theory can explain the phenomenon, Lucr. 2.801–805. 65 Cf. F.H. Colson-H.G. Whitaker, Philo, vol. 3 (London–Cambridge, Mass. 1930), 506; J. Annas–J. Barnes, The Modes of Scepticism (Cambridge 1985), 46. 66 On the importance of the notion of the real and invariable nature of a thing for scepticism before Sextus see R. Bett, Pyrrho, his Antecedents and his Legacy (Oxford 2000), 114–123 and 196–199.

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The same three examples of octopus, chameleon and tarandos (so spelled) are listed in Photius’ summary of Theophrastus’ lost treatise On Creatures that Change Colour,67 and also in ‘Antigonus’, Collection of Amazing Stories 25,68 who gives no source for the first two but cites “Aristotle” for the third. The three creatures are indeed mentioned in pseudo-Aristotle, Mirabilia 30, though the chameleon and octopus are there referred to only in passing to make the point, present also in Photius’ summary of Theophrastus, that the tarandos is more remarkable than them in that it is its hair rather than its skin that changes colour. It seems likely that Antigonus and the Mirabilia here derive from Theophrastus independently of each other, and that here as elsewhere Antigonus, or an intermediate source, treated the works of Aristotle and Theophrastus alike as ‘Aristotle’.69 The tarandos is to be identified with the reindeer or the elk;70 it seems possible that seasonal changes of colour have been confused with swift chameleon-like changes,71 the confusion perhaps being encouraged by difficulty in seeing the animal in the forest. Verbal parallels suggest that Philo’s account of the tarand(r)os comes from Theophrastus rather than from Antigonus or the Mirabilia; it seems likely that the references to the octopus and the chameleon did so

Phot. Bibl. 278 525a30–b21 = Theophrastus fr. 365A FHS&G. See the discussion in R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus. Sources for his Life, Writings, Thought and Influence, 5. Sources on Biology (Human Physiology, Living Creatures, Botany: texts 328–435) (Leiden 1995), 90–92. 68 The collection has been attributed to Antigonus of Carystus (fl. c. 240 BC), but O. Musso, “Sulla struttura del cod. Pal. Gr. 398 e deduzioni storico-letterarie”, Prometheus 2 (1976), 3, followed by T. Dorandi, Antigone de Caryste, Fragments (Paris 1999), xiv– xvi, has argued that it is in fact a Byzantine compilation, incorporating some genuine material from Antigonus attested as such by other sources; section 25 is not among the attested sections. However, since there is no reason to regard ‘Antigonus’ as the source for any of the other texts under discussion, the date of the collection attributed to him is in a sense irrelevant. See also R.W. Sharples, “Natural Philosophy in the Peripatos after Strato”, cit., 313–314. Plin. HN 8.120–123 discusses the chameleon at length and the tarandrus only briefly. 69 See O. Regenbogen, “Theophrastos”, in RE, Supplbd. vii (1940), 1370–1371; A. Giannini, Paradoxographorum Graecorum reliquiae (Milan 1966), 41; R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus, Sources on Biology, cit., 33–34; W. Kullmann, “Zoologische Sammelwerke in der Antike”, in W. Kullmann–J. Althoff–M. Asper (eds.), Gattungen wissenschaftlicher Literatur in der Antike (Tübingen 1998), 128–129. 70 R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus, Sources on Biology, cit., 96–97 and references there. 71 O. Keller, Die antike Tierwelt (Leipzig 1909–1913), vol. 1, 280. 67

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as well.72 Whether Theophrastus mentioned the example of the dove’s neck as well is uncertain; neither the other evidence for the content of his treatise73 nor suggestions scholars have made concerning what it might have included74 give any reason to think that he did so, or that the treatise was concerned with anything other than cases where there is an actual change in the colour of the creature in question. Philo’s placing of the example of the dove’s neck in the middle of the series of otherwise similar examples seems odd in any case, whether or not it too came from Theophrastus. What is in any case both striking and characteristic is that Philo, unlike any of the other sources,75 says that the ability to change colour has been given to the chameleon and the octopus by “saving nature” (σωτριος φ6σις) for their protection. Moreover Julia Annas and Jonathan Barnes have also suggested that Philo’s treatment of Aenesidemus’ First Mode in terms of animals as perceived, rather than animals as perceivers—which is the reason for bringing in the Theophrastean material at all—reflects a reluctance, from his Jewish cultural background, to discuss human beings and other animals together as perceivers.76 So Philo, having taken over Theophrastean material, is using it very much in his own way and for the purposes of his own argument.

III. Ethics Peripatetics in the last two centuries BC debated the place of bodily and external goods in the goal of life, happiness, according to Aristotle. Critolaus argued that happiness was a complete or perfect whole made up of all three kinds of goods, goods of the soul, bodily goods and external ones,77 no doubt adopting this formulation in deliberate opposition to the Stoics for whom the goal of life was completed or per72 J. Annas–J. Barnes, The Modes of Scepticism, cit., 46, suggest a Peripatetic handbook as an intermediate source between Theophrastus himself and Philo. 73 Theophrastus, fr. 365B and (without the work actually being named) 365CD FHS&G. 74 See R.W. Sharples, Theophrastus of Eresus, Sources on Biology, cit., 90. 75 Theophrastus discussed the reasons for the changes in colour, considering both efficient and final causes (see R.W. Sharples Theophrastus of Eresus, Sources on Biology, cit., 93–96) from the perspective of the individual creature, but that is different from a general reference to ‘saving nature’. 76 J. Annas–J. Barnes, The Modes of Scepticism, cit., 46. 77 Critolaus, frr. 19–20 Wehrli.

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fected by all—and only—the virtues.78 Critolaus’ view is also attributed to Aristotle by D.L. 5.30, and to Peripatetics and followers of Aristotle by Cicero and Clement of Alexandria respectively,79 but is explicitly rejected by the authors of ‘Doxography A’ and ‘Doxography C’ in Stob. 2.780 and by Aspasius,81 who hold that bodily and external goods are not parts of happiness but necessary instruments for the virtues which constitute happiness. As Dillon (The Middle Platonists, cit., 148) points out, Philo cites Critolaus’ formulation with approval, attributing it to “Aristotle and the Peripatetics”, at QG 3.16; Critolaus’ term “completion” or “perfection” (τελειτης) probably appeared in the lost Greek original.82 Critolaus’ view also appears at Det. 7, as an exegesis of Joseph’s coat of many colours, but is then (Det. 9) contrasted with the Stoic view that the noble alone is good, Philo endorsing the latter.83 We need not suppose that Philo used Critolaus’ work specifically or directly, but his formulation shows a more general awareness of the terms in which the issue was being discussed—and, again, a lack of concern with taking up a definite and consistent position of his own on the philosophical issue.84 At Migr. 147 the doctrine of virtue as a mean is attributed, not to Peripatetics by name, but to “those who have followed the mild and social form of philosophy”.85 What is striking here is not only the doctrine of the mean, standardly associated with Aristotle86 and referred to

SVF 3.106–107. I am grateful to Inna Kupreeva for drawing my attention to this. Cic. De fin. 3.43; Clem. Alex. Strom. 2.21.128.5 (p. 182.27–28 Stählin-Fruchtel-Treu 1985). Cf. P. Moraux, “Diogène Laërce et le Peripatos”, Elenchos 7 (1986), 276–277. 80 Stob. Ecl. 2.7.3b, p. 46.10–17 Wachsmuth; 2.7.14, p. 126.18–127.2; 2.7.17, p. 129.19– 130.12; commonly attributed to ‘Arius Didymus’ writing in the time of Augustus, but cf. T. Göransson, Albinus, Alcinous, Arius Didymus (Göteborg 1995), 203–227. 81 Aspas. In EN 24.3–9. See J. Annas, The Morality of Happiness (New York 1993), 413–414, and R.W. Sharples, “Peripatetics on Happiness”, in R.W. Sharples–R. Sorabji (eds.), Greek and Roman Philosophy, 100 BC to 200 AD, cit., vol. 2, 627–637. 82 R. Marcus, Philo, suppl. vol. 1, Questions and Answers on Genesis (London and New York 1953), 200 n.(h). 83 J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 146–147. With section 7 here Colson and Whitaker, Philo, vol. 2 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1929), 493 compare Arist. Pol. 1323a24–27, while noting that it does not imply, as Philo does here, that the three types of goods are equally important. What is particularly reminiscent of the formulation in Critolaus is the treatment in Philo’s text of the three types as being combined to make up a single whole. 84 Cf. J. Dillon, op. cit., 148. 85 Identified as Aristotelianism by Colson and Whitaker, in Philo, vol. 4, cit., 217 n.(b); J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 150–151. 86 Cic. Tusc. 4.46; cf. J. Annas, The Morality of Happiness, cit., 61. 78 79

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by Philo elsewhere too,87 but the description of the Peripatetics as “mild and social”; this is in accordance with the general characterisation of the school in Philo’s own time by contrast with the Stoics, for example in their attitude to external goods and in their advocating moderation of passions rather than their repression.88

IV. Conclusion With the exception of On the Eternity of the World, Philo’s references to Aristotelian doctrines and to the Aristotelian school are relatively few. It seems likely that both in that treatise and elsewhere he was drawing on sources later than Aristotle himself, possibly comparatively recent firstcentury ones; there is evidence both of his awareness of issues debated among Peripatetics in his own time (the doctrine of the categories, the relation of goods to happiness) and of a relative lack of concern about adopting a consistent view of his own on these issues (the fifth element, and again the relation of goods to happiness). This is consistent with the general view of Philo as familiar with Greek learning, but using it in the context of the development of his own views rather than being interested in it on its own terms.89

J. Dillon, op. cit., 150. Cic. Tusc. 4.38–46; D.L. 5.31 (presumably dependent on an earlier source). Cf. P. Moraux, “Diogène Laërce et le Peripatos”, cit., 278 n. 98, and on the debate over μετριοπ"εια and π"εια in general J. Dillon, “Metriopatheia and Apatheia: Some Reflections on a Controversy in Later Greek Ethics”, in J.P. Anton–A. Preus (eds.), Essays in Ancient Greek Philosophy (Albany: State University of New York Press 1983), vol. 2, 508–517, and (with further references in Philo) P. Moraux, Der Aristotelismus bei den Griechen von Andronikos von Rhodos bis Alexander von Aphrodisias, 2: Der Aristotelismus im I. und II. Jh. n. Chr. (Berlin–New York 1984), 282–284, n. 197. 89 See D.T. Runia, “The Rehabilitation of the Jackdaw: Philo of Alexandria and Ancient Philosophy”, in R.W. Sharples–R. Sorabji (eds.), Greek and Roman Philosophy, 100 BC to 200 AD, cit., vol. 2, 483–500. 87 88

MOSES AGAINST THE EGYPTIAN: THE ANTI-EPICUREAN POLEMIC IN PHILO*

Graziano Ranocchia “… and the most recent and most shameless of the physicists; he comes from Samos, is a piffling school teacher, and the crudest of those living”.1

Timon of Phlius’s contemptuously dismissive judgment of Epicurus was probably not far removed from Philo’s opinion of him. We know that for Philo Epicureanism was his polemical target par excellence and its philosophical system was more than any other the polar opposite of his own vision of the world in every respect. Epicurus’ mechanical and materialist vision rejected every form of finality on the physical plane, the idea of creation and providence on the cosmological plane, and the existence of man’s spiritual dimension on the anthropological plane. Not only that, but in theology the Epicureans supported polytheism and divine anthropomorphism, in ethics the absolute insignificance of divinity for the life of man (unless as a distant model of bliss) and, in consequence, the doctrine of pleasure as a moral end.2 If, then, Philo had an enemy among earlier Greek philosophers to be combated at all costs and to be opposed with every means, it was undoubtedly Epicurus. Often he will not even mention his name, which sounded “as the name of shame” to his ears.3 That is why in the extensive corpus of

* This work is the outcome of a period of research at the University of Würzburg financed by the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. I should thank Michael Erler for the various important suggestions that have improved it. However, the responsibility for interpretation falls entirely on my own shoulders. The translation of passages from Philo is my own. For biblical quotations I have used the edition of A. Rahlfs– R. Hanhart (eds.), Septuaginta. Editio altera (Stuttgart 2006). The English translation of the passages quoted uses the Revised Version with various modifications. 1 Timo fr. 825: Tστατος αR φυσικ8ν κα1 κ6ντατος κ Σμου λ"Uν / γραμμοδιδασκαλ.δης, ναγωγτατος ζωντων. 2 See also H.A. Wolfson, Foundation of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam, (Cambridge Mass. 19622), vol. 1, 110 f. 3 Cf. infra, 80–82.

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his writings on only three occasions is Epicurus or his school explicitly cited. However, to these should be added an array of other indirect allusions whose tenor and content more or less certainly suggest they are related to his polemic against the Epicureans. Early in De posteritate, after referring to the verse of Gen 4:16 (“And Cain went away from the face of the Lord, and dwelt in the land of Nod, in front of Eden”), Philo tries to strengthen his theory of the inadequacy and falsity of the literal interpretation of Holy Scripture by asking paradoxically how one might confute “Epicurean impiety (σ0βειαν), or Egyptian atheism ("ετητα) or mythical stories, of which there are so many”.4 His target is both the anthropomorphism of the Epicurean gods and Greek mythology, and the zoomorphism typical of Egyptian religion, which, as we know, was for the Jews the worst of idolatries and so is put on a par here with absolute negation of God.5 The obvious starting-point is thus the need to refute these aberrations, which are completely incompatible with the God of faith. But in that case one cannot concede that God has a face (πρσωπον), or that one can become physically distant from his presence, as this passage of Genesis seems literally to suggest. If we attribute him with a face, we then need to attribute him other bodily parts too, such as neck, chest, hands and feet, and so human passibility, while God has no bodily parts and is absolutely impassible (§§ 3–4). By analogy, there is nowhere in the universe without God, but it is all full of his presence, and so it is senseless to imagine that a man can remove himself from his presence as one moves from a physical place, for example from a land or a city. Hence the need for an allegorical interpretation of Holy Scripture (§§ 5–7). It is an important affirmation of principle, which reappears elsewhere in the treatises of allegorical commentary on the Bible, and which is the basis of all Philo’s exegesis. All that need concern us here is the equation: Epicurean impiety = divine anthropomorphism. Some have thought that, apart from the subject in question, this polemic also included the

4 Cf. Post. 2: ε9ς γAρ πρσωπον μHν Eχει τ< @ν, : δH βουλμενος ατ< καταλιπεSν Fτ0ρωσε μεταν.στασ"αι V>=στα δ6ναται, τ. τ/ν DΕπικο6ρειον σ0βειαν W τ/ν τ8ν Α9γυπτ.ων "ετητα W τAς μυ"ικAς Iπο"0σεις, Xν μεστ<ς : β.ος στ., παραιτο6με"α;

5 For an invective against Egyptian zoolatry cf. Contempl. 8–9. The subject is extremely important. The faith in the God of Israel that characterised the post-exile period was founded on the victory of JHWH against Egyptian polytheism.

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doctrines of the intermundia and the negation of divine providence.6 And although we do not need to think that in the specific case Philo had these two other Epicurean δγματα in mind,7 we should not forget that elsewhere they were, explicitly or implicitly, the object of his attacks. The Epicurean doctrine of the intermundia is mentioned en passant in the first book of De somniis with reference to the fundamental question of the transcendence of God. Commenting on the passage of Genesis (28:17) in which, after his dream Jacob exclaims in wonder: “How dreadful is this place!”, Philo mentions some philosophical positions on the ‘placing’ of God: some say that All-that-exists occupies a space and hence assign it one place or another, either in the world or in a metacosmic place outside the world. Others, however, say that the Ungenerated One cannot be assimilated to any created things, but that He transcends them all, so much so that the swiftest mind remains far from understanding him and must give up.8

The first two positions are immanentistic and appear closely associated with each other: God occupies a physical place (χNραν τιν) that can be within or outside our world, but that in any case belongs to the universe lato sensu. The first theory has been identified with the Stoic conception,9 but could also be linked with any form of pantheism. As for Aristotle’s First Immobile Motor, it is not identified with the world, it is true, but is an essential part of it too. The second position, by contrast, harks back to the Epicurean doctrine of the intermundia, an intercosmic place (μετακσμιν τινα) where the gods are held, elusive beings who, steeped in bliss, do not exercise influence of any kind on the world. Now, it has been pertinently observed that this doctrine is witnessed for the first time only in Cicero10 6 For this view see R. Arnaldez (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 6: De posteritate Caini. Introduction, traduction et notes (Paris 1972), 44 n. 3. 7 As has been justly noted by C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, in M. Erler (ed.), Epikureismus in der späten Republik und der Kaiserzeit (Stuttgart 2000), 123. 8 Somn. 1.184: τ8ν μHν λεγντων, ;τι π=ν τ< IφεστUς χNραν τινA κατε.ληφε, κα1 2λλων 2λλην πονεμντων, W ντ<ς τοL κσμου W κτ<ς ατοL μετακσμιν τινα, τ8ν δH φασκντων, ;τι οδεν1 τ8ν ν γεν0σει τ< γ0νητον ;μοιον, λλA τοSς ;λοις Iπερβλλον,

Yς κα1 τ/ν Zκυδρομωττην δινοιαν Iστερ.ζουσαν μακρG8 τ3ς καταλψεως :μολογεSν +ττ=σ"αι.

See C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 125. Cf. De nat. deor. 1.18; De divin. 2.40; De fin. 2.75. Later sources (Seneca, Quintilian, Plutarch, St. Augustine) seem to depend mainly on it. See D. Obbink (ed.), Philodemus, On Piety, Part One. Critical text with commentary (Oxford 1996), 7 and n. 5. 9

10

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and that, as far as we know, Epicurus simply claimed that the gods live in some place outside the world (Eξω που τοL κσμου).11 At the same time, as has also been pointed out, μετακσμιος is a general term meaning “beyond, outside the world”, and so also, but not necessarily, “between world and world”,12 so that in this passage both senses remain possible.13 In any case, the reference to Epicurean theology seems certain. The third doctrine (God’s transcendence of the cosmos), sharply contrasting with the others, is Philo’s personal position, developed from the Jewish conception of God as absolutely transcendent (τοSς ;λοις Iπερβλλον): he is totally Other, the Ineffable and Inconceivable. I shall return later to the originality of Philo’s theology.14 Providence was the specific subject of the treatise of that name, most of which has come down to us in an Armenian translation of the V/VI century AD.15 In it can be found the second of the explicit references to Epicurus, which contains an argument ab absurdo probably going back to a Stoic confutation. Its major premise is the wisdom that Epicurus is forced to recognise in his philosophy, its minor premise the declared inexistence of divine providence and wisdom, and its conclusion the foolishness and silliness of his own thought.16 Another reference to the same polemic can be found in another fragment of the same work, which mentions a demonstration of the inexistence of providence by certain people (a quibusdam excogitata) who are certainly identifiable as Epicurean philosophers. According to this view, which Philo describes as flimsy (inanis), it is the observation of natural disasters and the equal Cf. Eus. Praep. ev. 15.5, 11 (Epicurus fr. 362 Usener); Hippol. Philos. 22, 3 (DG 572, 7–9), and D. Obbink (ed.), Philodemus, cit., 8 and n. 1. 12 See A. Maddalena, Filone Alessandrino (Milan 1970), 325 n. 11; R. Radice (ed.), Filone di Alessandria. Tutti i trattati del commentario allegorico alla Bibbia, presentazione di G. Reale, monografia introduttiva di G. Reale e R. Radice (Milan 2005), 1825 f. 13 See also D. Obbink (ed.), Philodemus, cit., 8 n. 1, which also refers to Plut. Quaest. conv. 731d. 14 Cf. infra, 80–82. 15 It was published in 1822 by J.B. Aucher. Two fragments of the II book in the Greek original are preserved in Eus. Praep. evang. 7.21, 336b–337a; 8.14, 386–399. Cf. also infra, p. 79. 16 Cf. Prov. 1.50, p. 23 Aucher (= pp. 342–343 Usener): dicat mihi Epicurus, quotquot ipse scriptiones edidit, utrum ex providentia sapientiaque scripserit an sine sapientia. Si enim sine providentia sapientiaque scripsit, anne sibi gloriae tribuet, quae scripsit, huius modi esset, ut sapientia et disciplina destituta esse videantur? Quodsi sapienter scripsit atque prudenter, quo modo sapiens erit quod non est ex sapientia, aut providum quod non est ex providentia? Cf. also Cic. De nat. deor. 2.22; Epict. Diss. 2.23, 21–23, and C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 122 f. 11

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lot of the just and the wicked, and, above all, the paradox of the misery of the former and the good fortune of the latter that excludes any form of providential government of the world.17 This argument is taken up again in very similar terms at the outset of the long excerptum from the second book of the treaty, which Eusebius has transmitted in the original in his Praeparatio evangelica.18 Philo has it expressed by his interlocutor Alexander,19 who makes general use of a series of anti-providential arguments, whose philosophical inspiration has been variously interpreted, but which are now usually linked with a heap of commonplaces of various origin.20 The criticism is not at all groundless, and indeed the mystery of the just man’s suffering and the wicked man’s fortune is an important biblical topic which Philo was certainly familiar with.21 The reply to this and other objections was the subject of De providentia. There is another fleeting reference to the doctrine that rejects providence in De ebrietate, where, illustrating how 17 Cf. Prov. 1.37, pp. 17–18 Aucher (= p. 355 Usener): superest autem inanis quaedam sententia a quibusdam excogitata, nempe improvidentiam evidenter constare … ac primum mala mundo inesse dicuntur. Huius modi sunt improvisi aquarum illapsus ex imbrium copia super materiam anima carentem, qui nunc excedunt modum, nunc deficiunt; grandinis super germen et terram virentem decidentis impetus, quae corruptio est exitiosa. Consumi videntur omnes, impii ac iusti, aequali calamitate poenam sustinentes et aequaliter mortem subeuntes saeviente pugna, peste et fame; probi viri paupertate pressi, impiis ditescentibus et vitam feliciter traducentibus. See also M. Hadas-Lebel (ed.), Les oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 35: De providentia I et II (Paris 1973), 93–96; 158 n. 1. 18 Cf. Eus. Praep. evang. 8.14.386: κατασκευζει δH τ<ν λγον τοLτον τ<ν τρπονP Πρνοιαν εBναι λ0γεις ν τοσα6τJη τ8ν πραγμτων ταραχJ3 κα1 συγχ6σει; τ1 γAρ τ8ν κατA τ<ν ν"ρNπινον β.ον διατ0τακται; τ. μHν οRν οκ ταξ.ας γ0μει κα1 φ"ορ=ς; W μνος γνοεSς, ;τι τοSς μHν κακ.στοις κα1 πονηροττοις 2φ"ονα πικωμζει τA γα", πλοLτος, εδοξ.α, τιμα1 παρA τοSς πλ"εσινP +γεμον.α πλιν, Iγε.α, εαισ"ησ.α, κλλος, 9σχ6ς, πλαυσις +δον8ν κNλυτος, διA τε παρασκευ8ν περιουσ.αν κα1 διA τ/ν ε9ρηνικωττην σNματος εμοιρ.αν; ο? δH φρονσεως κα1 ρετ3ς [πσης ραστα. τε κα1 σκητα1 πντες ε9σ.ν, \λ.γου δ0ω φναι, π0νητες, φανεSς, 2δοξοι, ταπεινο.;. 19 On the identity of this figure (perhaps Tiberius Julius Alexander, Philo’s nephew) see M. Hadas-Lebel (ed.), De providentia I et II, cit., 40–45. 20 See P. Wendland, Philos Schrift über die Vorsehung. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der nacharistotelischen Philosophie (Berlin 1892), who thought there was an Epicurean source, and M. Hadas-Lebel (ed.), op. cit., 59–63, followed by C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 124 f., who have conjectured a mixture of different philosophical components. 21 See, for example, the emblematic case of Job in the Old Testament. For the Qoèlet honesty is not recognised and rewarded, while the wicked man is buried with honour (8:10); the just and the wicked man receive the opposite of their deserts (7:15; 8:14); one cannot hope that things will change: fate is the same for all (9:2–3). In the Psalms too this reality is recognised, but there is belief and hope in divine justice (Ps 9:22–32; 37; 14:35; 94:3–7).

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extraordinarily various and heterogeneous are the opinions expressed by the Greek philosophers, Philo contrasts “those who think the cosmos moves irrationally and automatically (λγου κα1 παυτοματιζο6σης) without leader or guide” and “those who claim there is an admirable providence and government (πρνοιαν κα1 πιμ0λειαν) of the universe and its parts”.22 Clearly, atomistic mechanism is set against Stoic providentialism, the latter, obviously, meeting with Philo’s approval. He returns to this and other connected subjects in an important passage in De confusione commenting on the biblical account of the construction of the tower of Babel (Gen 11:4): [the tower of Babel] challenges the summits of Olympus, extending its principles of impiety and atheism: and, in effect, it judges [a] as if God did not exist, or [b] as if He were not provident, or [c] as if the cosmos had never had origin, or [d], while granting that it was created, as if it were at the mercy of unstable causes or chance, now in complete confusion, and now without causality23 … And so, when these fools draw up the doctrinal bases of vice—which are allegorically similar to a tower—, what did they want if not to hand down their name as the name of shame?24

Here too, as with the passage from De posteritate quoted above, he speaks of “wickedness and atheism (σεβε.ας κα1 "ετητος)” in relation to the doctrines of some philosophers, and, although in this case the reference is indirect, the nature and fame of the views expressed make it easy to identify their holders. Theories b (denial of providence) and d (theory of chance and rejection of the principle of causality), which are philosophically cognate (neither the universe nor nature has a purpose), can clearly be ascribed to the Atomists and to Epicurus, and so Philo is clearly referring to them. However, not everyone would agree in describing Epicurus as an atheist, for, as we know, he developed an important theological doctrine, and this has led some to question that Philo was alluding to him here.25 It has also been claimed that Philo was

Cf. Ebr. 199, and also Leg. 3.30. Lit. “causal responsibility”, οχ Iπαιτ.ως. 24 Conf. 114–115: τG8 γAρ @ντι ο μνον π1 τ8ν ν"ρωπε.ων δικημτων ]σταται, μετατρ0χει δH κα1 τA \λ6μπια τοCς σεβε.ας κα1 "ετητος λγους προτε.νουσα, πειδAν W Yς οκ Eστι τ< "εSον διεξ.Jη, W Yς ^ν ο προνοεS, W Yς : κσμος ο_ποτε γεν0σεως Eλαβεν ρχν, W Yς γενμενος σττοις α9τ.αις Yς `ν τ6χJη φ0ρεται, ποτH μHν πλημμελ8ς, ποτH δH οχ Iπαιτ.ως […] κατασκευζουσι μ0ντοι συμβολικ8ς Yσανε1 π6ργον τ<ν περ1 κακ.ας λγον ο? φρενοβλαβεSς, τ. βουλμενοι W @νομα ατ8ν Iπολε.πεσ"αι τ< δυσNνυμον; 25 See H.A. Wolfson, Philo. Foundations of Religious Philosophy, cit., vol. 1, 166. 22 23

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not attacking real Epicurean doctrine, but a caricature of it proposed for critical purposes by Middle Platonism.26 Actually, apart from Epicurus’ alleged intentions, both for Philo and for the Jews of his time27 denying the existence of an ordering and purposeful Intelligence, on the physical as well as the cosmological plane, effectively meant denying the very existence of God, from whom, according to Revelation, the universe proceeds and by whom it is kept in existence by means of laws fixed by him. In his theological conception, based on biblical faith in the one absolutely transcendent God, creator and provident ruler of the universe, asserting that the divinity is as the Epicureans conceived it (a number of anthropomorphic beings immanent in the cosmos and, at the same time, utterly insignificant as regards its origin and continuing existence) substantially coincided with an act of impiety or a profession of atheism. In that sense, for him, impiety and atheism are confused with each other, and it is no accident that here, as in the passage of De posteritate mentioned above,28 this pair of words is used to describe philosophical doctrines regarded as wholly incompatible with faith in the God of Israel. As we know, the problem runs deeper and needs to be faced in more general terms. The radical (mono-)theism of the Jews (and later the Christians) had no real precedent in Greek religion and philosophical thought, and it was Philo who was the first to seek in the latter a theoretical model that would let him take this important novelty into account in the least inadequate way possible. As we know, he thought he had found this model in Plato’s philosophy (in the Timaeus, above all), where more than anywhere else there was a conceptual arsenal close to his thought and sources of inspiration that were undoubtedly useful to his enterprise. Of course, the attempt to identify the biblical God of creation with Plato’s demiurge presents many difficulties, but 26 See A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, in W.E. Helleman (ed.), Hellenization Revisited. Shaping a Christian Response within the Greco-Roman World (Lanham–New York–London 1994), 160 f.; 164 f.; 167 f. 27 Think of Flavius Josephus, for whom cf. Ant. iud. 10.277–278; Adv. Ap. 2.180. See W.C. van Unnik, An Attack on the Epicureans by Flavius Josephus, in W. den Boer et Al. (eds.) Romanitas et Christianitas. Studia Jano Henrico Waszink […] oblata (Amsterdam 1973), 341– 355; M. Hadas-Lebel, De providentia I et II, cit., 59 and n. 2: “Vers la même époque, dans le monde juif, le nom d’Épicure devient le symbole de l’impiété”; J. Ferguson, “Epicureanism Under the Roman Empire”, in ANRW II.36.4 (Berlin 1990), 2273: “To the Jews Epicureanism was anathema”; C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 123 and n. 7. 28 Cf. supra, 76.

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pagan speculation before him could offer Philo nothing closer than that. By contrast, there could be no room for the Epicurean gods, who were even more elusive and powerless than the Olympian gods, who, it is true, could not modify the decrees of fate, but who at least—so it was thought—had played a fundamental role in the genesis of the cosmos (think of Hesiod’s theo-cosmogony) and in the history of mankind. In this sense, Epicurean theology was at the opposite pole from Philo’s Weltanschauung, and so on this subject, as on others, there could be no dialogue with Epicurus, who more than anyone else had obscured and misrepresented the true image of God. Hence the accusation of impiety and atheism, and so, when Philo refers to those who pass on “their name as the name of shame (@νομα … τ< δυσNνυμον)” at the end of the passage he means above all the Epicurean philosophers. It is not an attempt to falsify Epicurean doctrine, as has been suggested, but a sharp rejection of one of its most basic physical principles: the theory of chance and the rejection of causality (above all, final causality), whose logical consequence is the denial of a providential government of the universe.29 That is why not even the first theory (God does not exist or it is as if he did not exist), which has been attributed to some Sophists30 or linked to sceptical positions,31 contradicts Epicurus’ doctrine. If it is not easy to establish on the historical plane to whom Philo is specifically referring with this theory, on the philosophical plane it captures pithily the very essence of Epicurean teaching: the gods exist, but it is as if they did not exist. That is, the gods certainly exist, but they have no importance for the life of the world and of man, and so it is as if they were not, to the point that both could continue to exist without them. In the same way the builders of the Tower of Babel, the human community whose arrogant fervour foolhardily challenged God’s greatness, knew that he exists, but behaved as if he did not, veluti Deus non daretur. This was the principle that the Epicureans regarded as the main pilaster of

29 For these two Epicurean fundamental δξαι cf. Epicur. Ep. ad Herod. 43–44; Lucr. 2.80–124; 218–224; 4.23–35; Cic. De nat. deor. 2.88; 93; Alex. De fato 192, 7 ff.; Sext. P. 3.17–18, and R.J. Hankinson, “Explanation and causation”, in K. Algra–J. Barnes– J. Mansfeld–M. Schofield (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge 1999), 498–507. 30 See H.A. Wolfson, Philo. Foundations of Religious Philosophy, cit., 1, 167. 31 See D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986), 426 and n. 88.

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the famous tetrapharmakos whose assimilation was considered one of the fundamental conditions for peace of mind, the so-called ataraxia. Thus, Epicurus’ philosophy emerges from a cosmological and physical point of view as wholly autonomous of God, and coincides ethically with a radical form of practical atheism. In this sense it can be included, conceptually at least, in the first of the above theories.32 Only theory c (the cosmos had no origin), which contradicts the biblical faith in creation and God the creator, does not and could not have Epicurean philosophy as its target, which, as we know, taught the generation and dissolution of worlds. Its aim, as we shall see, was rather the Aristotelian doctrine of the eternity of the cosmos.33 Of course, the Epicureans, like Democritus, regarded the process of creation and dissolution of worlds as lasting ab aeterno and destined to last forever,34 while, the Platonic cosmogony of the Timaeus, which was Philo’s model, saw the cosmos as formed once and for all by a mythical demiurge. In any case, for them each world, including our own, always has a beginning and an end, even though, significantly, this beginning and end are not determined by the will of God. That Philo had it clearly in mind can be deduced from a doxographical section of De aeternitate where he deals systematically with the problem of the origin and end of the universe, and which also contains the third and last explicit reference to Epicurus: There is nothing more foolish than wondering if the world may dissolve into non-being, instead of wondering if it may undergo the transformation that follows its present organisation, dissolving the various forms of its elements and compounds in a single, identical form, or undergoing a total upheaval from the collision and shattering [of bodies]. There are in fact three different opinions on the subject in question: first, that of those who claim that the world is eternal, ungenerated and everlasting, and then that of those who say that it is generated and corruptible. There are also those who take something from both of these views, from the latter the idea that it is generated, and from the former that it is incorruptible, and have elaborated a mixed doctrine, stating that it is generated and incorruptible. Thus Democritus, Epicurus and the numerous

32 On the accusations of atheism directed at Epicurus in the ancient world cf., for example, Diog. Oen. fr. 16 Ferguson Smith, and for a discussion of the problem, D. Obbink, “The Atheism of Epicurus”, Greek Roman Byzantine Studies, 30 (1989), 187– 223. 33 See J.-G. Kahn (ed.), Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 13: De confusione linguarum, Introduction, traduction et notes (Paris 1963), 171 f., and infra, 84. 34 Cf. Epicur. Ep. ad Herod. 73; Ep. ad Pyth. 88–90; Lucr. 2.1022–1174.

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graziano ranocchia host of Stoic philosophers believe in the genesis and dissolution of the world, but not in the same way: the former describe a plurality of worlds, whose genesis they attribute to the reciprocal collisions and combinations of atoms, and whose dissolution to the impacts and collisions of bodies. The Stoics, by contrast, describe the world as single, and claim that God is the cause of its genesis, but not of its dissolution […]. Starting from this, a new regeneration of the world is produced by the providence of the Artificer.35

Commenting on the fundamental metaphysical principle by which “nothing comes from non-being or dissolves into non-being”, but everything is transformed, and considering the possibility of dissolution as the world’s destiny, Philo mentions the only two eschatological theories that in his view respect these requisites. The first (dissolution of all existing forms in a single undifferentiated form) is Stoic in origin, the second (total disintegration of bodies due to clashes and collisions) is clearly influenced by Atomism, although the terminology used is wholly original.36 That Philo refers to the two main philosophical schools of Hellenism is clear from the way the passage continues, where he expounds in detail the most important cosmological theories on the subject. The first of these (eternity of the world), referable to theory c of the above passage from De confusione, must clearly be attributed to Aristotle, as Philo himself reveals in later chapters (§§ 10–12), where he also alludes to the Pythagoreans and, in particular, to Ocellus.37 The second proposition (generation and dissolution of the world), partially corre-

De aet. 6–8 (fr. 304 Usener): οδ0ν γε οTτως στ1ν ε_η"ες Yς τ< πορεSν, ε9 : κσμος ε9ς τ< μ/ ^ν φ"ε.ρεται, λλD ε9 δ0χεται τ/ν κ τ3ς διακοσμσεως μεταβολν, τAς ποικ.λας μορφAς στοιχε.ων τε κα1 συγκριμτων ε9ς μ.αν κα1 τ/ν ατ/ν 9δ0αν ναλυ"ε1ς W aσπερ ν τοSς "λσμασι κα1 τοSς κατγμασι δεξμενος παντελ3 σ6γχυσιν. Τριττα1 δH περ1 τοL ζητουμ0νου γεγνασι δξαι, τ8ν μHν .διον τ<ν κσμον φαμ0νων, γ0νητν τε κα1 νNλε"ρον, τ8ν δH ξ ναντ.ας γενητν τε κα1 φ"αρτνP ε9σ1 δD οQ παρ’ Fκατ0ρων κλαβντες, τ< μHν γενητ<ν παρA τ8ν Iστ0ρων παρA δH τ8ν προτ0ρων τ< 2φ"αρτον, μικτ/ν δξαν π0λιπον, γενητ<ν κα1 2φ"αρτον ο9η"0ντες ατ<ν εBναι. Δημκριτος μHν οRν κα1 DΕπ.κουρος κα1 : πολCς ;μιλος τ8ν π< τ3ς Στο=ς φιλοσφων γ0νεσιν κα1 φ"ορAν πολε.πουσι τοL κσμου, πλ/ν οχ :μο.ωςP ο? μHν γAρ πολλοCς κσμους Iπογρφουσιν, Xν τ/ν μHν γ0νεσιν λληλοτυπ.αις κα1 πιπλοκαSς τμων νατι"0ασι, τ/ν δH φ"ορAν ντικοπαSς κα1 προσρξεσι τ8ν γεγοντωνP ο? δH Στωικο1 κσμον μHν Mνα, γεν0σεως δD ατοL "ε<ν αcτιον, φ"ορ=ς δH μηκ0τι "εν […], ξ dς πλιν ναγ0ννησιν κσμου συν.στασ"αι προμη"ε.>α τοL τεχν.του. 36 Both "λσμα, “impact”, and κταγμα, “collision”, are non-Epicurean terms. For the meaning of σ6γχυσις, here “confusion”, “upheaval”, also found in Epicur. Ep. ad 35

Pyth. 88, see R. Arnaldez (ed.), De posteritate Caini, cit., 50–53. 37 Cf. Ocell. De rer. omn. nat. 1.2.

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sponding to the premise of theory d in the same passage,38 is attributed jointly to Democritus, Epicurus and most of the Stoic philosophers,39 but with an important specification: for the first two there are many worlds (πολλοCς κσμους) that are formed mechanically by collision and aggregation (λληλοτυπ.αις κα1 πιπλοκαSς) of atoms, and dissolve by clash and collision (ντικοπαSς κα1 προσρξεσι) of bodies,40 while the Stoics regard the cosmos as single and God as cause of its origin, although, oddly, he does not determine its dissolution.41 That is an essential specification from Philo’s point of view: in this way he wants to bring out the importance given to divine intervention in Stoic cosmology compared with the atheistic mechanical vision of atomistic doctrine. In the following lines (§ 9), omitted here for brevity, Philo makes a further surprising clarification: for the Stoics only this concrete world in which we live (: κατA τ/ν διακσμησιν) can be regarded as corruptible, and not the cosmos considered in the infinite series of its conflagrations and regenerations (: κατA τ/ν κπ6ρωσιν), which is eternal. Elsewhere too, in De providentia, Philo claims that for Zeno and Cleanthes the world is eternal, not only a parte post, but also a parte ante.42 This observation may be uncontroversial in principle, but does not seem necessary in this specific context, if one considers, as I have already remarked,43 that for the Epicureans too the process of the generation and dissolution of worlds is eternal (both a parte ante and a parte post), to the point that for them too one can distinguish the formation and dissolution of this specific world from the perpetual formation and dissolution of infinite worlds. Why Philo was so keen to underline a difference that is “While granting that it was created (Yς γενμενος)”. This must be the sense of : πολCς ;μιλος τ8ν π< τ3ς Στο=ς φιλοσφων, given that later in the treatise (§ 76) Boethus and Panaetius are mentioned as sustaining the idea of the incorruptibility of the universe. See D. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, Vigiliae Christianae 35 (1981), 146 n. 178. For the unusual association of Epicureans and Stoics cf. also Plut. De Is. 369a; De def. orac. 425d–e, and Cicero’s De fato. See C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 124. 40 DΑλληλοτυπ.α, “mutual collision”, can also be found in Democritus (cf. Aët. 1.12.6 = Democr. 68 A 47 DK); πιπλοκ, “combination”, has been compared to περιπλοκ of Epicur. Ep. ad Herod. 43–44; as for ντικοπ, here “impact”, cf. Epicur. Ep. ad Herod. 46–47, where it means “resistence”. Πρσραξις is a non-technical term and very rare. 41 This final claim is not part of authentic Stoic doctrine. For a possible explanation of it, see R. Arnaldez (ed.), De posteritate Caini, cit., 55 f. 42 Cf. Prov. 2.48. In this the two philosophers are close to Parmenides and Empedocles. 43 Cf. supra, 83. 38 39

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philosophically insignificant is hard to understand. We cannot exclude the possibility that he had access to sources on Epicurean doctrine that are now lost. On the other hand, not even those which are available are quite unequivocal on the subject.44 But other explanations may be possible, such as the desire not to allow too much space to a philosophy he had overtly repudiated. The third proposition in the above-mentioned passage (the world is generated, but incorruptible) is finally attributed to Plato (as well as Hesiod) on the basis of two passages of Timaeus45 and taken over by Philo (§§ 13–16; 25–27). As he explains quoting the book of Genesis, this is a combinatory theory that had been formulated, even before the Greek philosophers, by the supreme legislator Moses. The latter was traditionally regarded as the author of the Pentateuch and was for Philo the philosopher par excellence, who more than any other had received from divine Revelation the necessary light to penetrate the mysteries of God, the cosmos and man (§ 19). The passage he quotes, the first two verses of Scripture (Gen 1:1–2: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was invisible and amorphous”),46 is—needless to say—utterly beside the point, nor could anything be more appropriate than this passage for showing on the basis of Revelation that the world was created by God. Conversely, whatever Philo might claim, one will seek in vain in the following verses a biblical foundation for the thesis that creation is destined to be immortal and incorruptible.47 By contrast, in the books of the Prophets (above all in Daniel) there are many obvious pointers in the opposite direction, which would later be coherently developed in the eschatological prophecies of the New Testament.48 44 See D. Furley, “Cosmology”, in K. Algra–J. Barnes–J. Mansfeld–M. Schofield (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy, cit., 424–427. 45 32c–33b; 41a–b. 46 DΕν ρχJ3 πο.ησεν : "ε<ς τ<ν οραν<ν κα1 τ/ν γ3ν. + δH γ3 eν ρατος κα1 κατασκε6αστος. 47 The passage from Gen 1:14 (“And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days and years”) does not confirm this claim. Nor is Gen 8:22 (“While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease”), which, along with the preceding verse contains God’s promise to Noah and which Philo seems to be referring to, in itself a proof in this sense, given the logical premise of the discourse (“While the earth remaineth”), which does not exclude an end of the universe. See R. Arnaldez (ed.), De posteritate Caini, cit., 22; 87 n. 7. 48 The book of Revelation, the only prophetic and eschatological book of the New

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As we have seen, another important element differentiating Stoic cosmology from atomistic doctrine is the affirmation of the singleness of the cosmos rather than there being many or an infinite number of worlds. Philo returns to this point explicitly and in openly polemical tone in the fourth of the five concluding observations in De opificio, which are the essential cornerstones of the treatise.49 There he claims that “the world is one, as one is the Artificer (δημιουργς) who has made his work one with himself in singleness”,50 and at the same time ridicules those who believe in the existence of more or infinite (πε.ρους) worlds, describing them, with a play on words, as “inexperienced (2πειροι) and ignorant”.51 Here he is again referring unequivocally to the Atomist philosophers and to the Epicureans. Perhaps he is referring to both of them again when, in a passage in the first book of De specialibus legibus, he attacks the materialism of those who reject the theory of ideas: Those (sc. those who describe incorporeal ideas as an empty word without true reality) are described as ‘eunuchs’ by the sacred tables of the Law. Because, just as what has been castrated and deprived of its quality and essence, strictly speaking, is no more than formless matter, so a doctrine that suppresses ideas confuses everything and in the place of a superior substance to the elements offers one that is formless and without qualities. What could be more absurd? […] This doctrine introduces great disorder and confusion: indeed, by suppressing that in virtue of which qualities exist, it ends up suppressing the qualities themselves.52

Testament, is emblematic from this point of view. But cf. also Matth 24:1–41; 25:31–46; Marc 13:1–37; Luc 21:5–36. 49 They deal respectively with a) the existence of God, b) his singleness, c) the creation of the world, d) the singleness of the world, e) divine providence. 50 On this subject see also, with due caution, Plat. Tim. 31a–b; Aristot. Met. Λ 1074a31 ff.; and R. Radice (ed.), Filone di Alessandria. Tutti i trattati del commentario allegorico, cit., 93 n. 39. 51 Cf. Opif. 171: τ0ταρτον δD ;τι κα1 εgς στιν : κσμος, πειδ/ κα1 εgς : δημιουργ<ς : ξομοιNσας αIτG8 κατA τ/ν μνωσιν τ< Eργον, hς [πσJη κατεχρσατο τJ3 TλJη ε9ς τ/ν τοL ;λου γ0νεσινP ;λον γAρ οκ `ν eν, ε9 μ/ ξ ;λων πγη κα1 συν0στη τ8ν μερ8νP ε9σ1 γAρ ο? πλε.ους Iπολαμβνοντες εBναι κσμους, ο? δH κα1 πε.ρους, 2πειροι κα1 νεπιστμονες ατο1 πρ<ς λ"ειαν @ντες Xν καλ<ν πιστμην Eχειν. 52 Spec. 1.328–329: το6τους α? ?ερα1 τοL νμου στ3λαι μην6ουσι ‘"λαδ.ας’P Yς γAρ τ< τε"λασμ0νον φJρηται τ/ν ποιτητα κα1 τ< εBδος κα1 οδHν Mτερν στιν W κυρ.ως ε9πεSν 2μορφος Tλη, οTτως κα1 + ναιροLσα δξα 9δ0ας πντα συγχεS κα1 πρ<ς τ/ν νωτ0ρω τ8ν στοιχε.ων οσ.αν τ/ν 2μορφον κα1 2ποιον κε.νην 2γει. οi τ. γ0νοιτD `ν τοπNτερον; […] + δH πολλ/ν ταξ.αν ε9σηγεSται κα1 σ6γχυσινP ναιροLσα γAρ ταLτα, δ9 Xν α? ποιτητες, συναναιρεS ποιτητας. Cf. also there, 1.344.

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As we know, Philo made this important Platonic doctrine his own, using it, among other things, for his theology of creation, by which God created the world through his thoughts or incorporeal powers (σωμτοις δυνμεσιν), i.e. through ideas, conferring the various forms on undefined and undifferentiated matter (πε.ρου κα1 πεφυρμ0νης). Given the criticism of the theory of ideas, one might be tempted to see in these anonymous detractors Aristotle himself, who, as we know, expressed one of the most negative philosophical judgements on it. But though this might be true, the accusation of eliminating from nature any formal and intelligible element is utterly inadequate to his philosophy. The fundamental hylemorphistic principle, the criterion of individual and specific definition of bodies, is so characteristic of Aristotelian metaphysics as to have gone down in history as one of his most famous doctrines, while those who, as well as rejecting the theory of ideas, almost completely eliminated the formal and qualitative principle from the structure of bodies, keeping only the material and quantitative one— the “formless matter (2μορφος Tλη)”,—were, historically speaking, the Atomists and Epicurus. According to the atomistic mechanical vision, indeed, everything reduces to matter, void and movement. The rest, the forming and disintegration of specific types of bodies rather than others, is wholly determined by accidental, reciprocal interactions of atoms. It is not clear if the metaphor of the eunuch, which Philo uses elsewhere as a symbol of the sterile feebleness of pleasure as an end in itself, unable to generate virtue and wisdom,53 has also this moral value in this context, besides the physical sense that he gives it here.54 What is certain is that, in general terms, Philo clearly understood the ethical implications of Atomism and, in particular, its philosophical consistency with Epicurean moral doctrine. A decisive passage from De fuga, which is a hinge between physics and ethics in Philo’s interpretation of Epicurus, is illuminating on this organic relation between physical materialism and moral hedonism. Commenting on the biblical episode of Moses’ killing of the Egyptian as narrated in Ex 2:11–12, he offers the following explanation of it:

Cf, for example, Spec. 1.325; Ebr. 210–213; Leg. 3.8; Somn. 2.181–184. This is claimed, for example, by R. Arnaldez (ed.), De posteritate Caini, cit., 52 f. For a theological interpretation of the same metaphor (eunuch = atheist), cf. Migr. 69; Spec. 1.344. 53 54

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Moses launched the first of these (sc. of the two direct attacks against the absolute dominion of the body) against the Egyptian character who assailed the soul with pleasure. Indeed “he beat him to death and buried him in the sand”, a discrete substance, because he thought both doctrines belonged to the same author: that which regards pleasure as the first and greatest good, and the other that sees atoms as the constituent principles of the universe.55

In this allegorical interpretation Moses, the most just of men, represents the soul, the Egyptian pleasure’s assault on it, and the sand, “discrete substance (οσ.>α σπορδι)”, atomistic doctrine. In Philo’s view, by striking the Egyptian and burying him in the sand, Moses personifies the voluntary and simultaneous rejection of pleasure as supreme good (πρ8τον κα1 μ0γιστον γα"ν) and atomic theory as a reductive explanation of reality.56 According to him, Moses was aware that the two doctrines (δγματα) belong to the same philosopher (τοL ατοL) and therefore that philosopher can only be Epicurus. It is true that atomistic doctrine dates back to Leucippus (V century BC) and that the oldest hedonistic ethic was that of Aristippus and the Cyrenaics in the IV century BC. But the first to associate the two with philosophical coherence was historically Epicurus, and hence Philo must refer to him here.57 The omission of his name in this case is not, as elsewhere, due simply to the desire not to give excessive importance to a philosophy he was harshly attacking, but also to the fame of the doctrines referred to, which anyone in antiquity would have recognised immediately. According to Philo, the same episode (and not, as has been claimed,58 the one immediately following in Ex 2:13), allows another interpretation: it represents the rejection of the theory “that cuts up (κατακερμα55 Fug. 148: Xν (sc. δυσ1 περιβολαSς) τ/ν μHν προτ0ραν ποισατο πρ<ς τ<ν Α9γ6πτιον τρπον, hς πετε.χιζεν +δον/ν ψυχJ3 – “πατξας γAρ ατ<ν” οσ.>α σπορδι “κατ0χωσεν, 2μμGω” (Ex 2:12), τοL ατοL νομ.σας μφτερα εBναι τA δγματα, κα1 +δον/ν Yς πρ8τον κα1 μ0γιστον γα"<ν κα1 τμους Yς τ8ν ;λων ρχς –.

Another attack, indirect but clear, against atomistic doctrine is made in Heres, 130. For these two cornerstones of Epicurean philosophy cf., in particular, Epicur. Ep. ad Men. 129, and Ep. ad Herod. 41, which use similar expressions to Philo’s. 58 For example, by C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 132. This passage, which contains the story of the argument between the two Jews, offers no foundation for Philo’s allegorical interpretation. The terms of comparison are once again Moses, who launches the attack, the Egyptian, who suffers it, and the sand in which he is buried. As has been pointed out by R. Radice (ed.), Filone di Alessandria. Tutti i trattati del commentario allegorico, cit., p. 1516, this odd misunderstanding goes back to a mistaken textual note by P. Wendland, Philonis Alexandrini opera quae supersunt, III, Editio minor (Berolini 1898), 125. 56 57

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τ.ζοντα) the nature of good and gives part of it to the soul, part to the

body, and another part to external things”.59 It is the second attack of the just against the absolute dominion of the body (τ/ν σNματος jπασαν +γημον.αν). In this explanation Moses still represents the soul, the Egyptian the body and the sand external goods or the fragmentation of the good. The target is clearly the Peripatetic tripartition of spiritual, physical and external goods. Philo himself reveals this explicitly in a passage from Quaestiones in Genesim.60 His response to these aberrations is that good is “a single whole (:λκληρον) reserved for the intellect alone (διανο.>α μνJη), which is the best part of us, without any relation with what lacks soul (τ8ν ψ6χων)”.61 It is well known that Philo’s anthropological and moral reflections have strong spiritualistic tendencies, due not so much to the influence of the biblical conception, to which they are hard to apply, as to the decisive contribution of Plato’s philosophy. This spiritualism not only leaves no room for the body and its prerogatives, but utterly condemns man’s corporeal dimension as intrinsically bad and insidious.62 A similar meaning to that of the episode of Moses and the Egyptian in Philo’s first interpretation of it seems to be present in the Sodomites’ impious cry of lust in the episode of Lot and the angels (Gen 19:4–11), which allegorically denotes something often found in licentious, unbridled men, and is even worse than impiety. In fact, they do not believe that there is a superintendent or observer of human affairs, nor do they believe that there is a providence in these things when they seem positive. And they simply do the opposite of what he says and utter voices that are hostile to the Father and his truth.63

Here too, as in the previous case, the exaltation of pleasure as an end in itself is associated with a doctrine regarded as impious, in this case that which denies the existence of a provident God who interferes in human affairs. And even though here the former thesis is not formulated philosophically, it is clear from its association with the latter that the reference is once again to Epicureanism. In fact, in Philo’s view, those who justified their immoral and intemperate behaviour with the essentially atheistic conviction that the divinity does not intervene in 59 60 61 62 63

Fug. 148. 3.16. Fug. 148. Cf. also Ebr. 200–201. Cf., by way of example, Leg. 2.53–59; 3.69–75. QG 4.42.

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human life, either to reward or punish, were unequivocally the disciples of Epicurus. The discussion of the nature of pleasure is set in this polemical context, and is subjected to Philo’s close psychological and ethical scrutiny. In the ‘diatribic’ sections of his writings64 he often returns to the pleasures “of the belly and what is below the belly”, taken as a paradigm of sensual pleasure,65 with an expression that recalls the famous aphorism attributed to Epicurus: “the pleasure of the belly is the principle and root of all good”.66 This claim was tendentiously used against him by his enemies, it is true, but with all the good will in the world Philo could hardly fail to find it disgraceful and unacceptable. In the concluding section of De opificio, illustrating allegorically the sin of our progenitors and its devastating consequences, he comments on the image of the serpent tempter condemned by God to move on its belly and eat dust for eternity (Gen 3:14). Slithering along the ground and with its lethal bite, it is seen as a symbol of the insidious pleasure that appeals to sensation, personified in the woman, and seduces and corrupts man, the metaphor of the intellect, transforming him into a slave of the passions. The allegory is conducted with notable coherence down to the last detail. Just as, on the literal plane, the serpent in Genesis used Eve to seduce Adam, so, on the allegorical plane, pleasure acts through the senses on the human intellect with the aim of subduing it: It is also said that the serpent had a human voice, because pleasure draws on many defenders and advocates who take on its care and defence and who dare to teach that its power extends to all, great and small, and it being impossible to absolutely exclude any. […] And those who are generated adapt to it spontaneously from the start, enjoying pleasure and feeling irritation at its opposite, pain […]. Every living being—they say—seeks pleasure as its most indispensable and essential end, and man more than any other.67 64 For a modern redefinition of diatribe, see S.K. Stowers, The Diatribe and Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Chico 1981), 45–48, and, for a new classification of the diatribic writers, ibid. 48–78. 65 Cf., for instance, Opif. 158; Leg. 1.86; 2.26; 3.114; 138–139; 147; Cher. 93; Sacr. 33; Deter. 113; 157; Deus 111; Agr. 37–38; Mos. 1.28; Virt. 126; 208. See also A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le language de la philosophie (Turnhout 1998), 142 f. 66 Athen. 12.546 f. (Epicurus fr. 409 Usener). See A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 140 f. 67 Opif. 160–162: φων/ν δD ν"ρNπειον @φις λ0γεται προ.εσ"αι, διτι μυρ.οις Iπερμχοις κα1 προαγωνισταSς +δον/ χρ3ται τ/ν πιμ0λειαν κα1 προστασ.αν ατ3ς νειληφσιν,

οQ τολμ8σιν ναδιδσκειν ;τι πντων τ< κρτος ν3πται μικρ8ν τε κα1 μεγλων οδεν<ς

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The explicit recognition of the sovereignty (κρτος) of pleasure, considered as the most necessary and essential end of man (ναγκαιτατον κα1 συνεκτικNτατον τ0λος), seems so close to the Epicurean theory of ο9κε.ωσις, the connaturality of pleasure and the equally connatural abhorrence of pain, that one cannot fail to notice a precise and detailed reference to this philosophical doctrine.68 This is confirmed by a comparison with two passages of Sextus in which this view is expressly attributed to the followers of Epicurus.69 In one of them Sextus also cites the same comparison with the newborn child just emerged from its mother’s womb that appears in the text of De opificio quoted above (§ 161), here shortened for the sake of brevity.70 And so the numerous zealous supporters of hedonism, who are said to speak through the mouth of the serpent, are to be identified again with the Epicureans. They are “the sons of the prostitute”, those excluded from the assembly of the Lord (Deut 23:3),71 who, by giving moral legitimacy to pleasure’s evil attraction for the human soul, have in Philo’s view committed the worst kind of apostasy. If his conception sees the body as the principle of evil, pleasure, apart from the ‘unutterable’ pleasure deriving from desire for knowledge and from philosophical and mystical contemplation,72 is for him evil in itself IπεξJηρημ0νου τ< παρπαν. […] τ τε γεννNμενα οδεν1 πρ8τον ο9κειοLσ"αι π0φυκεν W τα6τJη, χα.ροντα μHν +δονJ3, τ/ν δD ναντ.αν λγηδνα δυσχερα.νοντα […] σπε6δει τε, φασ., π=ν ζG8ον Yς πD ναγκαιτατον κα1 συνεκτικNτατον τ0λος +δον/ν κα1 μλιστα 2ν"ρωπος. For this metaphor, cf. also ibid, 157; Leg. 2.76; 105; 3.114; 138; 246; Agr. 97; 108,

and, for the thesis of the connaturality of pleasure, QG 4.245. 68 Cf., for instance, Epicur. Ep. ad Men. 128–129. 69 Cf. Sext. P. 3.194: ;"εν κα1 ο? DΕπικο6ρειοι δεικν6ναι νομ.ζουσι φ6σει α?ρετ/ν εBναι τ/ν +δοννP τA γAρ ζG8 φασιν jμα τG8 γεν0σ"αι, διστροφα @ντα, :ρμ=ν μHν π1 τ/ν +δονν, κκλ.νειν δH λγηδνας, M. 11. 96: kΑλλD ε9N"ασ. τινες τ8ν π< τ3ς DΕπικο6ρου α?ρ0σεως πρ<ς τAς τοια6τας πορ.ας Iπαντ8ντες λ0γειν, ;τι φυσικ8ς κα1 διδκτως τ< ζG8ον φε6γει μHν τ/ν λγηδνα, διNκει δH τ/ν +δοννP γεννη"Hν γοLν κα1 μηδ0πω τοSς κατA δξαν δουλεLον jμα τG8 Vαπισ"3ναι συν"ει 0ρος ψ6ξει Eκλαυσ0 τε κα1 κNκυσεν. ε9 δH φυσικ8ς :ρμ>= μHν πρ<ς +δονν, κκλ.νει δH τ<ν πνον, φ6σει φευκτν τ. στιν ατ8ς : πνος κα1 α?ρετ<ν + +δον. 70 Cf. ibid. For the relation between the two passages and their possibly different doxographical value, see the interesting interpretation by C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 128–130. 71 Cf. Conf. 144, and the comment by C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 131 f. 72 Cf., for this type of pleasure, Spec. 1.36–40; 50; 322; 339; Opif. 53–54; 71; Abr. 65; 150; 164; Leg. 3. 101–103; 141; Gig. 44; Plant. 22; Heres, 274. 310; Praem. 26; Mut. 174; 260; Contempl. 13; Somn. 1.36; 50; 2.176, and A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 148, with the reference to the influence of Stoicism on this point.

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and for itself. It is judged “always and from every point of view reprehensible and impure”, “lethal and destructive”, and, being “absolutely atheistic ("εωττη)”, is the worst enemy of God. It is “wicked in itself ”, “the most perverse of all things (πανουργτατον)”, “totally adverse and hostile” to sensations, and “principle of iniquity and prevarication”.73 Even legitimate or natural pleasures (+ κατA φ6σιν), like those of the table or conjugal love, are blameworthy when (but only when) they are sought intemperately, because “it is through pleasure (δι’ +δονν) that we commit evil”.74 Hence, just as the hateful Er, Judah’s son, who symbolises the body for Philo, is condemned by God to die without any specific charge (Gen 38:7), so the serpent, the metaphor of pleasure, is cursed by God without possibility of appeal, because “what the serpent does to man, pleasure does to the soul”.75 That is why Philo never tires of attacking in his writings the “pleasure-seeker” (+δονικς) or “pleasure lover” (φιλδονος), who has chosen pleasure as the only yardstick of judgement and has made it his supreme rule of life.76 Now, it is true that Philo himself sometimes recognises its necessity and even usefulness, for example when he attributes it, on the psychological plane, the function of a linking element (συναγωγν) between intellect and sensation77 or when he claims that “a creature cannot do without pleasure … without pleasure, in fact, none of the things that happen to mortal creatures can take place”. But he specifies that “the fool will use it as a perfect good (Yς γα"G8 τελε.Gω), the virtuous man as a merely necessary good (ναγκα.Gω)”.78 It is also true that he approves of the enjoyment of essential and simple pleasures,79 which 73

152.

Cf., respectively, Leg. 2.105–108; 3. 65–68; 76; 107–108; 111–114; Spec. 3. 8–9; Opif.

74 Cf. Spec. 3.9, and Leg. 2.107 respectively. At the same time there is no truth in the claim of A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 165, that Philo makes little distinction between this kind of pleasure and the impure pleasure of pederasts and prostitutes. The mere fact that he recognises the existence of natural pleasures that are legitimate if enjoyed with moderation, is sufficient to refute it. 75 Cf. Leg. 3.75; 236, and A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 165 f. 76 Cf., for example, Opif. 158–167; Leg. 3. 2; 8; 14; 68; 111–113; 212; 251–253; Cher. 92–93; Deter. 9; 98–99; Post. 71–72. 156; Gig. 35; Deus 111; Agr. 17; 97; 108; Migr. 9; 151; Congr. 57; 59; 169; Somn. 2.150; Mos. 2.195; 301; 2.23; Spec. 1.9; 150; 193; 4.112; 122; Praem. 17 ff.; Quod omnis 159; Contempl. 69; QG 2.56, and A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 143 and n. 60. 77 Cf. Leg. 2.71–72. 78 Cf. ibid, 2.16–17. 79 The most significant example of this type of pleasure is that of water drunk in

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are praised in contrast with those sophisticated and considered as an end in themselves,80 but he is careful to clarify that “in none of these (sc. eating, drinking and sexual pleasures) is there the good (τ< γα"ν), but only the necessary and the useful (τ< ναγκαSον μνον κα1 χρσιμον)”.81 Similarly, he elsewhere denies that corporal and external goods, unlike those of the soul, are truly such.82 Even carnal pleasure, conceived as a necessary physiological means for the reproduction of mankind (which is self-evident), is no more than a necessary evil, a bitter and inevitable fruit of amorous desire.83 For these reasons it has been suggested that the theme of pleasure and its irresistibly attractive force, far—I would add—from being partially and occasionally revalued by him,84 served Philo to illustrate the problem of the presence of evil and its universal power over the world and over man.85 This was a problem wholly unknown to earlier Greek speculation, and which he was the first to focus theologically, anthropologically, and ethically. In effect, the existence of an irrational agent, independent and external to man, that appeals to his pride86 and his basest instincts to induce him to sin and rebellion against God, was an original element of the biblical Revelation and at the same time a subject quite alien to Hellenic thought. Present from the very first pages of Scripture, it was of decisive importance not only for the history of Salvation as such, but also for Philo’s thinking, which, as we know, was characterised by a marked dualism of Platonic origin, in which unity was opposed to multiplicity, the flesh to the spirit, pleasure to virtue and the principle of good to the principle of evil.87 For Philo the latter, though not seeming yet to have that personal character that would be characteristic of Christian faith and tradition (the devil or satan), must

the natural ‘cup’ of two hands joined, described as “indescribable pleasure (2λεκτον

+δονν)”, on which cf. Somn. 2.60.

Cf. Sobr. 61; Dec. 45; Spec. 2.161. Leg. 3. 157. 82 Cf. Sobr. 67. 83 Cf. Opif. 152, and also Abr. 100; Ios. 43; Spec. 3. 8–9; 32–34; Mos. 1.28; Virt. 207. 84 A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 143–147, and C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 134, have postulated a partial reconsideration of the subject by Philo. 85 See A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 159– 172. 86 “Ye shall be as God” is the serpent’s insidious promise in Gen 3:5. 87 See A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 160. 80 81

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be identified in the “serpent-shaped pleasure”, i.e., following the allegorical interpretation, in the serpent tempter of Genesis. Next to this fundamental metaphor are two minor, complementary figures who were in one way or another connected with anti-Epicurean polemic. They were Cain and Onan, biblical images of the obsessive search for pleasure as an end in itself. The latter, who “spilled [his seed] on the ground, lest he should give a posterity to his brother” (Gen 38:9), is seen as a symbol of those who seek only their own benefit without thought for others.88 Not without reason, this has been seen as a criticism of Epicurean individualism, which disregards and excises all social relations, and which Philo contrasted with the Stoic theory of social ο9κε.ωσις, which he amplified and interpreted in his own original way.89 Cain was described as seeking pleasure even at the cost of virtue, which was seen not as a good in itself, but as a good subordinate to the former.90 This attitude is particularly interesting for us as it coincides exactly with the thought expressed by Epicurus in his work On the End: “Good, virtue and all things similar to them are to be regarded as good if they procure pleasure; if they do not, leave them alone”91 and even more overtly in the Letter to Anaxarchus: “I exhort you to be constant in the search for pleasure, and not of the virtues, which are heralds of empty, mad and agonising illusions of success”.92 This demonstrates, however, as has been rightly said, that Philo had access to fairly specialised sources on Epicureanism and not to simple works of propaganda against it.93 This can also be deduced from the second book of De somnis, where, commenting on one of the dreams interpreted by Joseph (Gen 40:16) and in accordance with a famous Cf. Deus 16–19. On this subject see C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 133, who has rightly pointed out that Philo adds to the three traditional concentric circles of human sociality according to the Stoics (family, country, humanity) that of the relation with God, “father and ruler of all things”, which is not to be found in the original Stoic formulation. Cf., for instance, Stob. Flor. 4.27, 23 (57 G Long-Sedley). 90 Cf. Deter. 157–158: φρνησιν δD W καρτερ.αν W δικαιοσ6νης αστηρAς δια"0σεις π.πονον παρασκευαζο6σας β.ον 8μενP ε9 δD 2ρα κα1 χρηστ0ον αταSς, οχ Yς γα"οSς τελε.οις χρηστ0ον, λλA Yς ποιητικοSς γα"οL. 91 Athen. 12.546 f. (Epicurus fr. [22] 4, 1 Arrighetti2): τιμητ0ον τ< καλ<ν κα1 τAς ρετAς κα1 τA τοιουττροπα, Aν +δον/ν παρασκευζJηP Aν δH μ/ παρασκευζJη χα.ρειν ατ0ον. 92 Plut. Adv. Col. 1117a (Epicurus fr. [39] 42, 1 Arrighetti2): γU δD φD +δονAς συνεχεSς παρακαλ8 κα1 οκ πD ρετς, κενAς κα1 ματα.ας κα1 ταραχNδεις χο6σας τ8ν καρπ8ν τAς λπ.δας. Cf. also Epicur. ep. ad Men. 132, and Ph. Mitsis, Epicurus’ Ethical Theory (Ithaca 1988), 59–97. 93 See C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 130. 88 89

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Epicurean δξα, he ironically attacks the “members of the thiasus of pleasure, who claim that it consists in the memory of past pleasures, in the enjoyment of those present and in the hope of future ones”.94 Cicero expresses himself in similar terms, claiming that according to Epicurus the body enjoys as long as it perceives the present pleasure and the soul equally feels its presence along with the body, it foresees future pleasure and does not allow past pleasure to be lost. In this way—he claims—the wise man will always feel permanent and related pleasures, joining the expectation of hoped-for pleasures with the memory of those obtained.95

As a corollary to the equation between evil and pleasure, and at least in principle (given that nothing of the kind can be found in Philo’s actual words), the philosophy of Epicurus, which—we have seen—speaks with the mouth of the serpent, can be considered in a way as “the voice of the Evil One”96 diametrically opposed to the heavenly voice of the divine Plato. In effect, Platonism, which, as we know, was Philo’s main philosophical reference point and the answer to many of the problems raised by his reflections, was perhaps in absolute terms the most distant thinking from Epicurean dogma. Hence the attempt to discredit Epicureanism in various ways, not only in its physical, cosmological and theological parts, but also and above all, in its moral doctrine. Thus, although with Epicurus Philo recognises the reliability of the sensations,97 against him he claims the essential epistemological deceptiveness of pleasure, tricking the senses by inducing them to offer the intellect distorted and misleading representations of reality.98 Similarly, in the third book of Legum allegoriae, he sharply rejects the fundamental 94 Somn. 2.209: τ/ν γAρ +δον/ν ο? "ιασ8τα. φασιν ατ3ς Eκ τε μνμης τ8ν παρεληλυ"των τερπν8ν κα1 ξ πολα6σεως τ8ν νεστηκτων κα1 ξ λπ.δος τ8ν μελλντων συνεστναι. See A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de

Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 142. 95 Tusc. 5.96 (Epicurus fr. 439 Usener): corpus gaudere tam diu, dum praesentem sentiret voluptatem, animum et praesentem percipere pariter cum corpore et prospicere venientem nec praeteritam praeterfluere sinere. ita perpetuas et contextas voluptates in sapiente fore semper, cum expectatio speratarum voluptatum cum perceptarum memoria iungeretur. Cf. also De fin. 2.104 (Epicurus fr. 438 Usener); Sen. De ben. 3.4, 1 (Epicurus fr. 435 Usener); Plut. Contra Epic. beat. 1099d (Epicurus fr. 436 Usener); Hieronym. In Ies. 11.38, 473 e; 18.65, 788c (Epicurus fr. 437 Usener). 96 See A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 162: “Epicureanism as the philosophical advocate of pleasure becomes the voice of the Evil One”. 97 On this point of contact between the two see below, 100. 98 Cf. Opif. 165–166; Leg. 3. 61–64; 67; 107–112.

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Epicurean doctrine laying down the existence of static or “catastematic” pleasures: In effect pleasure does not refer to quiet and stable states of mind, but to ones agitated and full of turmoil. Just as the flame is in movement, so, like a blaze of fire, the passion, which agitates the soul, does not leave it in peace. That is why [Scripture] does not agree with those who claim that pleasure is “catastematic”. Indeed, quiet is typical of stones, trees and what has no soul, but is alien to pleasure, which rather tends towards excitement, sometimes frenetic, and for some there is desire, not for quiet, but for violent and impetuous movement.99

Thus, for Philo pleasure does not admit quiet, but is dynamic by nature, producing, not peace, but a “violent and impetuous movement (κινσεως)”, naturally tending to frenetic excitement (γαργαλισμοL … σπασμNδους).100 The comparison of passion with a flame, in particular, has quite naturally been linked to Chrysippus’ concept of “passionate inflammation (πα"ητικ/ φλεγμον)”.101 The use of the technical term “catastematic” (καταστηματικν) clearly reveals the target of the polemic, namely the Epicurean classification of the pleasures, by which, alongside and above kinetic pleasures (+δονα1 δυναμικα.) there are the so-called catastematic pleasures (+δονα1 καταστηματικα.), stable psychological phenomena typified by the absence of physical pain (πον.α) and moral suffering (ταραξ.α) and corresponding to a state of peace of mind.102 For Philo, the existence of this specific type of pleasure is simply impossible, because it clashes with the very nature of pleasure. Of course he could not be unaware that, as indicated here, Epicurus himself allowed not only for catastematic pleasures, but also for a class of kinetic pleasures that are not strictly necessary for happiness, and which arouse or correspond to a movement or surge of the soul.103 This is clear from his use of the rare word γαργαλισμς (lat. titillatio), 99 Leg. 3. 160: + γAρ +δον/ οκ Eστι τ8ν lρεμο6ντων κα1 ?σταμ0νων, λλA τ8ν κινουμ0νων κα1 ταραχ3ς γεμντωνP aσπερ γAρ + φλ<ξ ν κινσει, οTτως φλογμοL τινα τρπον τ< π"ος ν τJ3 ψυχJ3 κινο6μενον lρεμεSν ατ/ν οκ >=. Δι< κα1 τοSς λ0γουσι καταστηματικ/ν εBναι τ/ν +δον/ν ο συμφ0ρεταιP lρεμ.α γAρ λ."Gω μHν κα1 ξ6λGω κα1 παντ1 ψ6χGω ο9κεSον, λλτριον δH +δονJ3P γαργαλισμοL γAρ κα1 σπασμNδους φ.εται κα1 πD ν.ων οκ lρεμ.ας λλA συντνου κα1 σφοδρ=ς κινσεNς στι χρε.α. Cf. also Cic. De fin. 2.14.

100 Cf. also Leg. 3.148–149; 155–156; Opif. 158; Deter. 113; Agr. 37; Ebr. 176; Conf. 117; Migr. 60; Somn. 2. 13; Quod omnis 31. 101 Cf. Gal. De plac. Hipp. et Plat. 4.7.421–424 De Lacy (SVF 3.467); Orig. Contra Cels. 8.51 (SVF 3.474), and C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 131 and n. 55. 102 Cf. D.L. 9.136 (Epicurus frr. [1] 136, 2; [7] 2 Arrighetti2); Olympiod. In Plat. Phaed. 94, 3 Finckh; Id. In Plat. Phil. 274 Stallb. 103 This kind of pleasure was actually regarded by Lucretius (De rer. nat. 4.1073–

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“solicitation”, “excitement”, terminus technicus in Epicurus for the solicitation exercised on the senses by kinetic pleasures,104 which is exactly the meaning this unusual term has here. This has aroused the suspicion that Philo is being tendentious in the treatment of his sources, drawing only on what was useful for his aim of putting Epicurus in a bad light.105 It has also been suggested that his interpretation of Epicureanism was, once again, a falsified and simplified version circulated for propagandist purposes by its enemies.106 But while it is true that Philo lost no opportunity to indicate his philosophical distance from Epicureanism, it is also true that in this catastematic pleasures had a very special role, being the essential nucleus of hedonistic doctrine. They were pleasures par excellence, the only ones truly necessary for happiness, those to which all the rest were subordinate, or, when necessary, sacrificed. The equation +δον = [πον.α/ταραξ.α was for Epicurus so forceful as to seem an aphorism. So, while Philo’s version may be partial, the opportunity for excessive schematisation of Epicurean teaching on this point was offered by Epicurus’ very doctrine. In any case it is a question of oversimplification or, if one prefers, of taking one’s opponent’s argument to extremes for love of controversy. There seems no foundation for thinking he was being deliberately misleading. The term γαργαλισμς is not only in this passage of the Allegoriae. It returns in Quod deterius on the subject of passion, which, according to Philo, when “it becomes cruel, arouses [in the soul] solicitations and excitements from pleasure and desire (κνησμοCς κα1 γαργαλισμοCς ξ +δον3ς κα1 πι"υμ.ας)”,107 and in other parts of Philo’s corpus.108 In the third book of De specialibus legibus we can find the corresponding verb γαργαλ.ζω, “provoke”, “excite”, with reference to the impure animals forbidden in Leviticus, whose fat meat “excites and arouses insidious 1191) as the most widespread among men. See C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., p. 131. 104 Cf. Athen. 12.546 e (Epicurus fr. [22] 1, 3 Arrighetti2); Plut. De tuenda san. praec. 126b; Cic. De nat. deor. 1.113; Sen. Ep. 99, 27. 105 See C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 131; A. Le Boullueuc, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 140 f. 106 See A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 168: “Philo’s Epicureanism was in fact only a perversion of Epicurus’s own teaching as it was disseminated by its enemies”. 107 Deter. 110. 108 Cf. Spec. 3.10–11; Sacr. 26.

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pleasure (γαργαλ.ζοντα κα1 ρε".ζοντα τ/ν π.βουλον +δονν)”.109 Note that this time, and unlike the other two passages quoted, pleasure seems to be the object, and not the subject, of the excitement. This inconsistency, which is by no means isolated in Philo, should not surprise us. It can be explained, as elsewhere in the Philonic œuvre, thanks to the various exegetical contexts of the claims, and their different aims in the framework of Philo’s complex allegorical interpretation.110 Another characteristic of pleasure as seen by Epicurus, its variedness or ποικιλ.α, is the subject of a series of passages.111 In the same way the typically Epicurean concept of the “softness” or “refinement” (π0ντρωσις) of pleasure (or some pleasures) is occasionally present in a passage in the third book of Legum allegoriae, where it is said that, unlike the perfect man, viz. the wise man personified by Moses, those making progress can approach +δον: “not every pleasure, but only those that are necessary and simple, avoiding those refined or excessively soft (κατA τAς πεντρNσεις)”.112 And as Aaron, who is the metaphor of it, washed the innards and hooves of the victim before the sacrifice (Lev 1:9), so he is unable to resist every pleasure, but it is already satisfying if he manages to put away the ‘innards’, that is refinements (τA πεντρNματα), what pleasure-lovers say is the tastiest feature of the best pleasures, which derives from the refined art of cooks and pastry-cooks who know how to tickle the palate.113

Despite the co-presence of Stoic moral terminology (particularly the pair of words σοφς/προκπτων), the distinction between necessary and excessively refined pleasures, and, later, the use of the rare term π0ντρωμα, of which π0ντρωσις is a variation, are clearly Epicurean

109 Cf. Spec. 4.100. For γαργαλ.ζω in Epicurean sources, cf. Ceb. Tab. 9; Plutarch. De tuenda san. praec. 136 f, and, for the Latin titillo, Sen. De vita beata, 5.4. 110 As G. Reale–R. Radice, in R. Radice (ed.), Filone di Alessandria. Tutti i trattati del commentario allegorico, cit., xxxi, have rightly observed, in this “la coerenza filosofica è subordinata all’intenzione e alla finalità esegetica […]: l’unità di fondo resta, infatti, affidata al testo biblico e alle istanze imposte da questo”. Cf. also xx; xxiii f.; xxx–xxxii. 111 Cf. Leg. 2.74–76; 3. 61–66; Sacr. 26; Deter. 173; Gig. 18; Plant. 111; Ebr. 46. 217; A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, cit., 141 and n. 55. For Epicurus cf. RS 18. 112 Leg. 3.140. 113 Ibid, 143: ?καν<ς γAρ οκ Eστι π=σαν +δον/ν διNσασ"αι, γαπητ<ν δ0, Aν τA γκο.λια ατ3ς τουτ0στι τA πεντρNματα, j φασιν ο? φιλδονοι πιλενσεις εBνα. τινAς τ8ν προηγουμ0νων +δον8ν, m γ.νεται \ψαρτυτ8ν κα1 σιτοπνων λ.χνων περιεργ.>α.

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in character.114 Equally surprising is the invitation in the second book of De somniis to disdain sumptuous food and eat “bread and spring water (μ=ζα κα1 Tδωρ ναματιαSον)”,115 which recalls the almost identical expression in the Letter to Menoeceus on the equal goodness of frugal foods (μ=ζα κα1 Tδωρ) and opulent ones.116 Even more important on the philosophical plane is Philo’s position as to the epistemological value of sensation, whose validity and reliability he vouches for. In the third book of Legum allegoriae, commenting on the verse in Gen 3:12–13, he declares that, unlike the pleasure described by the serpent, which tricks and seduces the intellect, sensation, personified in Eve, provides faithful and true representations of reality. It is said to reproduce “bodies with absolute precision (κραιφν8ς) as they are in reality, beyond any falsification and artifice”.117 In this Philo shows a singular philosophical convergence as much with the Stoics as with the Epicureans, who, as we know, were essentially in agreement on this subject, but the absence of any reference to the Stoic notion of assent and, at the same time, the stress on the material and mechanical character of sensation, which he describes as “blind by nature”,118 have rightly led to the conclusion that there is a decidedly Epicurean, rather than Stoic, influence on this point of Philo’s psychology.119 This seems to be confirmed by the accompanying invective against the false representations of lovers, which, as in the IV book of Lucretius’ poem (vv. 1073–1191), follows as a logical development on the claim for the truthfulness of sensations. The Epicurean inspiration for the whole passage is so evident that, to allay suspicions of ‘fellow-travelling’, Philo feels the need to distance himself from those philosophers of nature who, in his view, have developed “too physical” or physicalist a doctrine (φυσικNτερον φυσιολογο6ντων), that is, once again, the disciples of Epicurus.120

114 For this distinction cf. Epicur. Ep. ad Men. 130–132; for π0ντρωμα, Athen. 12.546 e (Epicurus fr. [22] 1, 2–3 Arrighetti2). 115 Cf. Somn. 2.48–49. 116 Cf. Ep. ad Men. 130–131. 117 Cf. Leg. 3.61–64. Cf. also 3.67 (where sensation is considered an indifferent), and QG 1.46. 118 Cf. Leg. 3.108: τυφλ<ν γAρ φ6σει + αcσ"ησις. 119 This, despite the presence, at 3.60, of Stoic terminology, on which see C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 133 f. For Epicurus’ position cf. Cic. De fin. 1.30–31; Sext. M. 7.203 ff. 120 Cf. Leg. 3.61.

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All this demonstrates that Philo had direct access, if not to Epicurus’ writings—which cannot be excluded on principle—then at least to respectable doxographical compilations on his doctrine, on which he drew not only for material for his polemics, but also for a series of ideas and terms useful for his thoughts on specific subjects.121 One might ask how one should interpret his use and appropriation of concepts and vocabulary typical of a philosophical tradition with which he engaged, as we know, a fight to the death. Should one think that Philo’s attitude was incoherent or ambiguous, officially hostile to Epicureanism and secretly open to some of its tenets? Or is he to be considered an eclectic thinker, the author of an impressive, if unsuccessful attempt to synthesise the whole of Greek thought, in which the meeting of the various philosophical components did not give rise to a sufficiently coherent and organic fusion? The answer to both questions is in my view negative. From the doctrinal point of view—as we have seen— Philo remains hopelessly distant from Epicurus, from every point of view. As for philosophical inspiration, his first and fundamental model has been correctly identified in Middle Platonism,122 to which one should add the decisive role played by Stoicism. Despite this, he did not mind making use of a varied lexical and conceptual armoury, the fruit of the contamination of various currents of thought and in which there was also room for the enfants terribles of Epicurus. This contamination was due, not so much to Philo himself, so much as that tendency to the standardising of philosophical thought that was operative starting from the last Hellenistic age and particularly from the I century BC. It is clear that if there was a field in which the Epicureans could be considered the great specialists, those who had explored all its aspects and possible implications and that had drawn up a specific vocabulary for it, this was the hedonistic doctrine. Therefore, every time that Philo found his argument requiring him to use concepts belonging to this particular area, he was often led to make use of a vocabulary that had become the common heritage of various philosophical schools. To this we might add Philo’s habit of appropriating dialectically the concepts of the adversary philosophy 121 C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 130, is of the same view. On Philo’s careful and detailed knowledge of Epicureanism, see also J. Ferguson, “Epicureanism Under the Roman Empire”, cit., 2274. 122 On this point see, for example, J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists (London 1977), 139– 183; D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, cit., passim.

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with the aim of turning them against it.123 Thus Philo not only is no exception for his age, but is wholly part of a process by which he is influenced and to which he too contributes decisively. Indeed, his interpretation of Epicureanism, which for him was the absolute evil from many points of view, anticipated and certainly influenced in various ways the position of the early Fathers and Christian writers towards it, particularly Justin, Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian, as we can see from the images and language they use. They used it in their refutations as a philosophical model that they applied to particular heresies (Valentine, Marcion) or also to heresy in general, interpreted evangelically as the tares that an enemy, the devil, has sown in the field of God, which is the world (Matth 13:24–30; 36–43).124 In this way the Epicurean α]ρεσις, which even before Christ had been regarded as sectarian and subversive of ordinary morality, could be associated with the first forms of heterodoxy in the history of Christianity, as their oldest philosophical precursor, and thus judged as a fundamentally anti-Christian doctrine.125 In effect, apart from some concessions in the moral field by Clement of Alexandria, Epicurus, the ‘agitator’ who had dared to deny the immortality of the soul and divine providence, and had identified man’s highest good with pleasure, lent himself well to the role of a preacher of doctrines against the faith, excluded from the ecclesiastical community.126

See C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et l’Épicurisme”, cit., 131. Cf., for the use of this image, Clem. Alex. Strom. 6. 8, 67, and also A. Peter Booth, “The Voice of the Serpent: Philo’s Epicureanism”, cit., 168. 125 See W. Schmid, “Epikur”, in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, V (1961), 776 f.; J. Ferguson, “Epicureanism Under the Roman Empire”, cit., 2302. 126 See M. Erler, “Epikur, Die Schule Epikurs, Lukrez”, in H. Flashar (ed.), Ueberweg. Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, Die Philosophie der Antike, 4. Die hellenistische Philosophie (Basel 1994), 189. 123 124

LA CONVERSION DU SCEPTICISME CHEZ PHILON D’ALEXANDRIE

Carlos Lévy L’un des problèmes que pose l’abondance actuelle d’études sur le scepticisme antique est, notamment dans les recherches de tradition analytique, l’ontologisation du concept lui-même. Les textes d’époques très différentes sont commentés comme s’ils étaient les différentes illustrations d’une même réalité, alors que l’usage technique de σκεπτικς et de termes de cette famille ne débute qu’avec le néo-pyrrhonisme d’Enésidème, au Ier siècle av. J.C. Certes l’absence du mot ne signifie celle de la réalité, mais elle doit au moins conduire à s’interroger sur la nature de celle-ci. Dans une perspective plus diachronique, deux mouvements nous paraissent devoir être mis en évidence. Tout d’abord, celui de la construction du concept, fruit d’une longue élaboration historique, qui culmine avec Sextus Empiricus, au cours de laquelle le scepticisme s’individualise en s’émancipant par rapport à la tradition platonicienne et en se donnant une figure tutélaire, Pyrrhon, dont il transforme profondément la pensée. Par ailleurs, cette progressive individualisation s’accompagne de l’apparition d’articulations nouvelles connectant les thèmes et la méthode sceptique à la transcendance, alors que les maîtres de la Nouvelle Académie s’étaient bien gardés de toute référence à celle-ci. C’est ainsi que le Commentaire du Théétète montre comment la critique carnéadienne de l’ο9κε.ωσις stoïcienne a pu être mise au service de la formule platonicienne de l’:μο.ωσις τG8 "εG8 par laquelle le moyen platonisme définissait le souverain bien. Dans le cas de Philon, le problème est plus complexe encore. Vivant à une période, celle du moyen platonisme, caractérisée par une certaine osmose entre des courants autrefois contradictoires, fasciné par les doctrines philosophiques grecques, mais restant fondamentalement attaché à la foi juive, il représente, dans l’histoire de la pensée antique, un unicum dont l’histoire se chargea de renforcer encore la singularité, étant donné que l’œuvre philonienne fut, après la mort de son auteur, rejetée par ceuxlà mêmes à qui elle était principalement destinée. S’il est difficile de préciser la relation de l’Alexandrin à l’égard du platonisme ou du stoïcisme cela est encore plus vrai pour le scepti-

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cisme qui, par définition, n’a pas de doctrine constituée et dont la visibilité réside dans un vocabulaire, quelques tropes et surtout dans un mouvement d’une pensée qui s’ingénie à réduire à néant la prétention des dogmatiques à être détenteurs de la vérité. Nous avons déjà consacré deux articles à la pensée du doute dans le corpus philonien. Dans une étude publiée en 1986,1 nous nous sommes interrogé sur la possible présence d’une influence néo-académicienne dans la pensée de l’Alexandrin. Nous avons conclu à l’impossibilité de trouver dans l’ensemble de son œuvre un seul passage dont il pourrait être démontré avec certitude qu’il serait d’origine néo-académicienne. Cependant cet échec ne signifie pas que l’apport d’Arcésilas et de Carnéade soit totalement absent chez Philon. Il reprend des notions importantes utilisées par ces scolarques, mais il les transforme dans une double orientation: celle du moyen platonisme dans lequel il est plongé et celle de sa foi juive. Dans l’analyse que nous avons faite de la position de Philon par rapport au néo-pyrrhonisme,2 et plus particulièrement par rapport à son quasi contemporain Enésidème, nous avons étudié les modes sceptiques tels qu’ils sont exposés dans le De ebrietate3 et nous avons exposé tous les arguments qui nous conduisent à penser qu’il n’y a aucune raison pour considérer a priori que l’exposé philonien de ces modes serait plus éloigné d’Enésidème que les versions qui en sont données par Diogène Laërce et par Sextus Empiricus. Il est vrai que Philon a une certaine réticence à utiliser le vocabulaire technique du vocabulaire néo-pyrrhonien et que, par ailleurs, il procède à une certaine censure d’arguments sceptiques qu’il estime en contradiction avec sa foi, mais l’ensemble conserve une rigueur doxographique indiscutable. Dans ces deux articles, nous avons donc tenté de situer Philon par rapport aux deux grandes orientations de l’histoire du scepticisme antique. Ce que nous nous proposons de faire ici est quelque peu différent. Il s’agit, grâce à une analyse de caractère principalement sémantique, de tenter d’évaluer cette présence sceptique à l’intérieur même de la pensée de Philon, de montrer comment elle s’articule avec les autres aspects qui la caractérisent. Nous commencerons par tenter de 1 “Le ‘scepticisme’ de Philon d’Alexandrie: une influence de la Nouvelle Académie?”, in A. Caquot, M. Hadas-Lebel, J. Riaud (eds.), Hellenica et Judaica. Hommage à Valentin Nikiprowetzky (Leuven–Paris 1986), 29–41. 2 “Deux problèmes doxographiques chez Philon d’Alexandrie: Posidonius et Enésidème”, in A. Brancacci (ed.), Philosophy and Doxography in the Imperial Age (Florence 2005), 79–102. 3 Ebr. 166–206.

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comprendre qui est pour lui ‘le sceptique’ avant de nous intéresser au verbe σκ0πτομαι, au nom σκ0ψις, et d’analyser enfin l’articulation dans son œuvre entre médio platonisme et néo-pyrrhonisme. Rappelons tout d’abord qu’à en juger, en tout cas, par ce qui nous est parvenu, le sceptique n’existe pas comme figure archétypale dans la Nouvelle Académie. Dans les textes relatifs à cette école, il n’est question que de celui qui suspend son assentiment en toute occasion, : περ1 πντων π0χων, figure antithétique du sage stoïcien. Le sage académicien est défini par rapport à une problématique, celle de l’assentiment, que la Nouvelle Académie a empruntée au stoïcisme et qu’elle a subvertie afin de détruire la prétention stoïcienne à l’infaillibilité du sage, ce qui ne signifie pas nécessairement qu’elle s’en soit tenue à cette fonction purement destructrice.4 De ce fait, dans la Nouvelle Académie, le sceptique se définit immédiatement par l’ποχ et donc par une orientation exclusivement dialectique. Dans le néo-pyrrhonisme, tel que nous pouvons le connaître par Sextus, le sceptique est celui qui sait discerner la contradiction entre les apparences, la suspension du jugement étant la conséquence de cette contradiction. La focalisation est donc différente: la Nouvelle Académie met au centre de son auto-définition le mécanisme psychologique par lequel le sujet donne ou refuse son assentiment, tandis que le néo-pyrrhonisme se réfère immédiatement à la structure contradictoire du monde phénoménal. Il reste que l’apparition du σκεπτικς dans la langue philosophique constituait une innovation importante et mettait en contraste la spécificité de cette figure avec la multitude d’emplois du verbe σκ0πτομαι et de ses dérivés. C’est, entre autres, de cette tension que nous semble témoigner le corpus philonien. Le sceptique, au demeurant bien peu présent dans son œuvre, est pour Philon, d’une manière générale, comme nous allons le voir un personnage connoté négativement. En revanche, σκ0πτομαι et le mot σκ0ψις ont, eux, une tonalité très positive. C’est ce paradoxe qu’il convient d’élucider. C’est probablement dans le De fuga5 que l’image négative du sceptique apparaît de la manière la plus claire. Il y est identifié à deux figures pour lesquelles Philon nécessairement n’éprouve pas beaucoup

4 Pour un exposé de l’ensemble des interprétations proposées du scepticisme néoacadémicien, voir W. Görler, “Arkesilaos”, in H. Flashar (ed.), Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie. Die Philosophie der Antike, 4. Die hellenistische Philosophie (Basel 1994), 786–828. 5 Fug. 129 et 209. Les traductions proposées sont, avec parfois des modifications, celles de l’OPA (= Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie).

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de sympathie, Ismaël et le sophiste. Plus exactement, c’est dans l’exégèse allégorique du personnage d’Ismaël que Philon fait intervenir ces référents tirés du monde de la philosophie. Commentant Gen 16:12, où il est dit au sujet du fils aîné d’Abraham: “celui-là sera un onagre d’homme, sa main contre tous, la main de tous contre lui, il s’établira à la face de tous ses frères”, Philon commente:6 “Cela révèle le dessein du sophiste qui est excessivement sceptique et prend plaisir aux controverses”. A priori, rien ne prouve que σκεπτικς ait ici un sens technique et qu’il faille le référer aux deux orientations que l’histoire de la philosophie a retenues comme ‘sceptiques’, la Nouvelle Académie et le pyrrhonisme. Après tout, la phrase pourrait dire simplement que le sophiste est un esprit querelleur parce qu’il s’attache aux moindres détails. A l’appui de cette interprétation, on pourrait invoquer le caractère relativement récent du sens technique, qui ne semble pas avoir été utilisé avant Enésidème, artisan du renouveau pyrrhonien au Ier siècle av. J.C. On remarquera cependant que, dans la suite du texte, il est dit que ce type d’esprit frappe tous les représentants des sciences (πντας βλλει τοCς π< τ8ν μα"ημτων),7 caractérisation qui convient mieux aux sceptiques qu’aux sophistes, comme le montre, en particulier, l’œuvre de Sextus Empiricus. Mais ce qui pousse à ne pas exclure le sens de ‘sceptique’, c’est la comparaison avec QG 3.33, où dans son commentaire du même passage, Philon procède en deux temps: – se référant précisément à la sauvagerie d’Ismaël, il précise que celui-ci est le sophiste, fils du vaste savoir et de la sagesse (probablement πολυμ"εια et σοφ.α dans le texte originel).8 La dérivation étymologique σοφ.α-σοφιστς se trouverait ainsi associée à l’exégèse allégorique, puisqu’Agar est l’allégorie de la soif de connaissance qui se rapproche de la source du savoir.9 Auquel cas, 6 Fug. 209: σοφιστοL γAρ βο6λημα τοLτο τ< λ.αν σκεπτικ<ν πιμορφζοντος κα1 λγοις χα.ροντος ριστικοSς.

Fug. 210. C’est une des deux leçons proposées par les manuscrits. Erivan 2056 et 2102 donnent l’équivalent arménien de ‘sophisme’, leçon retenue par l’édition OPA MercierPetit (vol. 34B, Paris 1984). Il nous semble que le sens de ‘sagesse’ évite le pléonasme sans pour autant conduire à l’invraisemblance, puisqu’il est dit plus loin que les Sceptiques sont fils eux aussi de la philosophie. 9 En Fug. 202, Agar est présentée comme la figure de l’âme progressante, mais qui n’est pas encore capable de puiser à la source: ο_πω γρ στ1 ?καν/ ψυχ/ προκπτουσα τG8 σοφ.ας κρτGω ποτG8 χρ3σ"αι. Sur la question de l’identité des sophistes chez Philon, voir B.W. Winter, Philo and Paul among the Sophists (Cambridge 1997, 20022), 59–108, 7 8

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il faudrait admettre que la σοφ.α mère d’Ismaël serait la sagesse incomplète;10 – quoi qu’il en soit, dans un second temps, commentant l’agressivité du fils aîné d’Abraham, Philon ajoute: Ainsi ceux qu’on appelle à présent Académiciens ou sceptiques11 refusent de poser fermement leurs règles et leurs opinions et ne (soutiennent) pas plus celles-ci que celles-là; en effet, il (leur) paraît (bon) de philosopher en criblant de leurs flèches ceux qui appartiennent à toutes les sectes et on les nomme habituellement des querelleurs, car ils attaquent dès l’abord, protégeant et surveillant le domaine de la secte, de façon à ne pas être pris par l’adversaire. Pourtant tous sont apparentés et frères en quelque sorte du même sein, rejetons d’une mère unique, la philosophie. C’est pour cela que (l’Ecriture) dit: “il habitera face à tous ses frères”. En effet, l’Académicien et l’aporétique se sont vraiment opposés solidement aux sectes, invectivant ce qui est en chacune, contre quoi ils portent des décisions.

Malheureusement, nous ne possédons que la version arménienne de ce texte, si bien que des incertitudes demeurent. La première mention des “sceptiques” ne fait pas vraiment problème, dans la mesure où l’on traduit ainsi un mot arménien qui signifie “chercheurs”. La seconde est plus complexe, puisque le terme arménien correspondant signifie “non-affirmants”, ce que l’on peut comprendre de différentes manières, mais pour lequel nous retenons la suggestion qui nous a été faite par E. Spinelli: “aporétiques”. La question a été posée par B. Winter de savoir pourquoi ces deux termes différents s’il s’agit de désigner une même réalité.12 Sa réponse, qui est que Philon a cherché à utiliser un mot correspondant à la fois aux sceptiques et aux sophistes, ne nous semble pas satisfaisante. S’il s’agit, en effet, de l’isosthénie des discours, nous savons par Cicéron que ce principe était également revendiqué par Arcésilas.13 L’explication la moins improbable est que les néo-pyrrhoniens, tout en privilégiant l’appellation de “sceptiques”, aimaient à souligner que d’autres appellations étaient posqui donne (59–62) une bibliographie complète sur cette question, dont il remarque justement qu’elle a été relativement négligée par la recherche philonienne. 10 Voir à propos de Nachor, dans Congr. 48, où il nous est dit que, dans la mesure où il est parent du sage Abraham (DΑβραμ στι τοL σοφοL συγγενς), il participe de la sagesse, mais tout en n’ayant qu’une science imparfaite car il est resté loin de l’Incréé. 11 Trad. J.-P. Mahé, OPA, modifiée sur un point: nous ne voyons pas, en effet, ce que pourrait signifier “l’Académicien et l’Indicible”. 12 Op. cit. 70. 13 Ac. po. 1.

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sibles: “éphectiques”, “aporétiques”, “pyrrhoniens”.14 Il est donc vraisemblable que Philon a pris tout simplement acte de cette variété et qu’il a voulu donner à son lecteur deux modes d’identification de ce même groupe.15 Nous sommes en terrain plus sûr dans Congr. 52 où le problème de l’absence du texte grec ne se pose pas. Trois degrés d’humanité y sont définis, dont les σκεπτικο. occupent le dernier.16 En premier vient Israël, à qui il appartient de voir le meilleur, l’Etre qui est réellement, puis ceux qui contemplent et admirent la régularité du ciel sensible, et en dernier viennent les σκεπτικο., dont il nous est dit qu’au lieu de s’attacher à connaître ce que la nature comporte de plus puissant dans l’ordre du sensible ou de l’intelligible, “ils consument leur temps en raisonnements sophistiques et pointilleux et ne font qu’ergoter”.17 Il n’est pas certain qu’il faille voir ici une allusion précise au scepticisme comme orientation philosophique. Le mot σκεπτικο. désigne ici tous ceux—philosophes sceptiques probablement compris—qui privilégient les arguties verbales aux recherches de fond et qui ne sont que des “vendeurs de paroles” (λογοπ8λαι), néologisme qui traduit bien la confusion entre l’image du σκεπτικς et celle du sophiste à qui la tradition platonicienne a depuis le début reproché son avidité. Le rapprochement avec Det. 43–44 nous semble confirmer cette interprétation. Les deux textes, en effet, contiennent une comparaison entre la médecine et la philosophie, fondée sur la stérilité dans l’un et l’autre domaine d’une démarche purement verbale, sans que le passage du Quod deterius fasse quelque allusion que ce soit aux σκεπτικο.. Tout au plus peut-on Voir Sext. P 1.7. Pour Winter, op.cit., 72, “against Nikiprowetzky’s notion that Philo identifies the sophists as Academics and Sceptics, we have suggested that ‘the wild man’, the sophist, is merely described as possessing certain characteristics shared also by Academics and Sceptics”. Formellement non, puisque Philon rapproche Ismaël de l’un puis des autres et que l’indication chronologique concernant les seconds prouve que les deux rapprochements ne sont pas du même ordre: on a d’un côté une sorte d’archétype, de l’autre une allusion historique précise. Néanmoins, on notera que Philon, pour expliquer la violence d’Ismaël à l’égard de ses frères, affirme que les Académiciens et les sceptiques sont les frères des dogmatiques qu’ils combattent, et qu’ils ont tous comme mère la philosophie. Cette allusion à la mère, qui recoupe celle concernant Ismaël, prouve nous semble-t-il que les tenants des diverses formes du scepticisme sont considérés par lui comme des représentants à un moment donné de la figure archétypale du sophiste. 16 Sur ce texte, voir V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie: son caractère et sa portée. Observations philologiques (Leiden 1977), 187. 17 Congr. 52: περ1 μικρA μ0ντοι σοφ.σματα τριβμενοι κα1 γλισχρολογο6μνενοι. 14 15

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remarquer, que de manière quelque peu surprenante, Philon place à côté de ceux-ci, dans le De congressu, la petite Rouma, dont il nous dit qu’elle est leur concubine et qu’elle est “celle qui voit quelque chose, si petite soit-elle (+ :ρ8σ τι κ`ν τ< σμικρτατον παλλακ1ς %Ρουμ), car ils ne peuvent entreprendre la quête de biens meilleurs capables d’améliorer leur vie”. Rouma est dans Gen 22:23–24 la concubine de Nachor et Philon interprète son nom comme “celle qui voit quelque chose”.18 Peut-être y a-t-il là un écho de la polémique anti-sceptique, affirmant que les ténèbres absolues dans lesquelles les Sceptiques affirment être plongés n’existent pas et que l’on voit toujours quelque chose, si peut que ce soit. Il est vrai qu’il y a des occurrences dans lesquelles σκεπτικς paraît dépourvu de nuances négatives, mais il s’agit de passages où le mot a un sens relatif et non absolu. Ainsi, dans Her. 279, Abraham est défini comme celui de qui a surgi “un plant capable de scruter et de contempler les réalités naturelles”, ce plant étant Israël: τ< σκεπτικ<ν κα1 "εωρητικ<ν τ8ν τ3ς φ6σεως πραγμτων ν0βλαστεν Eρνος. On remarquera que, comme pour éviter toute ambiguïté sur le sens de σκεπτικν, Philon accompagne l’adjectif σκεπτικν de "εωρητικν, qui ne comporte pas les mêmes ambiguïtés. De même, en Ebr. 98, commentant Ex 32:17–19, où Josué dit à Moïse qu’il entend “la voix de la guerre dans le camp”, tandis que celui-ci rectifie en disant qu’il s’agit d’hommes pris de vin, ce qui sera confirmé par la perception du veau d’or et de la fête célébrée en son honneur, Philon qualifie Moïse de σκεπτικ<ν κα1 π.σκοπον τ8ν πραγμτων, formule dans laquelle nous constatons encore que σκεπτικν n’est pas employé tout seul. Dans le même traité, et en plein milieu des tropes sceptiques, il est question des trois parties de la philosophie, la logique, l’éthique et la physique sur aucune desquelles, nous est-il dit, “les chercheurs ne se sont jusqu’à présent mis d’accord”.19 Il paraît aller de soi que “les chercheurs en question” ne sont pas les philosophes sceptiques, mais les philosophes en tant qu’ils sont définis par la recherche de la vérité. Une version beaucoup plus polémique de cette même identification se trouve dans Her. 244–248, qui demande 18 Congr. 46: %ΡουμA δH :ρ8σ τι. Nous ne voyons pas de raison d’utiliser, comme le fait V. Nikiprowetzky, loc. cit., la graphie “Reuma”. De même, il nous semble qu’il n’y a aucune raison pour identifier à des sceptiques ceux dont il nous est dit, en Somn. 2. 283, qu’ils ont “affirmé que seul existe le monde sensible”. S’il s’agit des mêmes qui, en QG 4.87 sont accusés de “supprimer la Providence du Père pour la création”, il pourrait s’agir du Péripatéticien Straton de Lampsaque et de ses imitateurs. 19 Ebr. 202: Xν 2χρι τοL παρντος οδεμ.α παρA π=σι τοSς σκεπτικοSς συμπεφNνηται.

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une attention particulière. Les alliés possibles des ennemis de l’âme (les passions) sont comparés aux sophistes, dont Philon souligne l’ambiguïté fondamentale: en tant que cherchant à connaître les réalités de la nature, on pourrait dire qu’ils sont des amis—amis entre eux et amis du logos—, mais, sur des points particuliers de leur recherche, ils sont en guerre intérieure. Ces points particuliers sont détaillés dans une longue doxographie dans le détail de laquelle nous n’entrerons pas ici, mais dont nous pouvons remarquer qu’elle associe des éléments très différents: – des philosophes dogmatiques, tels ceux qui s’opposent sur la création du monde et sur sa durée; – ceux qui disent que rien n’existe, mais que tout devient, allusion probable à des courants héraclitéens; – les Sophistes, au sens historique du terme—dans l’allusion à l’homme comme étant la mesure de toute chose—; – enfin les penseurs sceptiques, désignés par la proposition: “ceux qui pensent que tout est incompréhensible”.20 Tout de suite après, au § 247, Philon dit que “soleil, lune, ciel dans son entier, terre, air et eau, et à peu près tout ce qui est fait de ces éléments, a fourni aux sceptiques matière à discussion et à disputes (τ τε ξ ατ8ν σχεδ<ν πντα τοSς σκεπτικοSς Eριδας κα1 φιλονεικ.ας παρεσχκασιν)”. Ici encore, nous semble-t-il, le σκεπτικς n’est pas celui qui pratique la suspension du jugement sur tous les sujets, mais celui qui s’intéresse à des points de détail, sur lesquels aucune réponse définitive n’est possible, ce qui provoque une διαφων.α généralisée. La meilleure preuve est qu’un peu plus loin, au § 248, il est dit que “les désaccords dont la philosophie est remplie sont nés parce que la vérité a déserté l’intellect incrédule et porté à la conjecture”.21 Voyons maintenant ce qu’il en est de σκ0πτομαι et de σκ0ψις. En ce qui concerne le verbe, il est utilisé constamment pour indiquer que le texte biblique comporte une difficulté qu’il faut s’attacher à résoudre. Par exemple, en Her. 227, à propos des objets qui sont dans le sanctuaire, Philon affirme qu’il convient de se demander (2ξιον δH σκ0ψα20 Her. 246: ο? πντα κατληπτα ε9σηγο6μενοι. Sans doute faut-il également voir une allusion aux sceptiques dans la proposition précédente: τοSς τA α9σ"σεως κα1 τA διανο.ας κριτρια συγχ0ουσι. 21 Her. 248: τA δH κατA τ/ν φιλοσοφ.αν μεστA διαφων.ας γ0γονε τ<ν πι"αν<ν κα1 στοχαστικ<ν νοLν τ3ς λη"ε.ας ποδιδρασκο6σης.

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σ"αι) pourquoi nous sont données les dimensions de la table et des par-

fums, tandis que rien de tel n’est précisé pour le chandelier. La réponse, présentée comme probable, est que les deux premiers représentent des objets finis, tandis que le chandelier symbolise le ciel, dont la grandeur est infinie. Ailleurs, par exemple en Agr. 26, la formule la plus fréquente dans cet emploi, σκεπτ0ον δ0, est utilisée pour la différenciation de termes qui paraissent très proches, comme l’engraisseur de bétail et le berger. Pour ce qui est du terme σκ0ψις, il désigne la recherche philosophique, comme celle du “connais-toi toi-même” socratique,22 ou la recherche par Jacob de la nature de Celui qui est,23 ou la contemplation de l’Incréé par Abraham.24 A l’intérieur même du développement sceptique du De ebrietate, la σκ0ψις désigne la recherche sur la nature du bien, ce n’est pas elle qui conduit à suspendre le jugement, mais les impressions contradictoires que nous avons dans l’esprit quand cette recherche est en jeu.25 On peut donc affirmer que la figure du philosophe sceptique, qu’il se rattache à l’Académie ou à l’orientation néo-pyrrhonienne, est certes présente dans le corpus philonien, mais de manière bien évanescente. L’impression qui se dégage de l’analyse de ces passages est que Philon connaît le sens technique de σκεπτικς, mais qu’il hésite à le faire sien et que l’adhésion forte aux sens antérieurs de ce terme empêchent que l’Alexandrin ne parle le langage d’Enésidème. Philon ne va pas au-delà d’une allusion au contexte philosophique de son époque, pour deux raisons au moins: – loin de percevoir ces sceptiques comme une réalité autonome, il les voit comme un avatar de la sophistique, que sa culture platonicienne rend paradoxalement plus présente à son esprit que les débats, plus récents, qui ont eu lieu à l’intérieur de la Nouvelle Académie et dans la mouvance pyrrhonienne. ‘Sophiste’ est chez lui le mot qui désigne tous ceux qui font un mauvais usage du savoir et du langage; – la sophistique elle-même lui apparaît non pas comme une réalité intrinsèquement perverse, mais bien comme la perversion d’un désir légitime de savoir inhérent à l’esprit humain.

22 23 24 25

Somn. 1.58. Somn. 1.182. Ebr. 94. Ebr. 200.

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Une analyse plus fine est possible, qui passe par l’analyse d’un des mots les plus importants de la pensée sceptique, le verbe π0χω, lequel indique la suspension du jugement et se trouve employé comme tel dans le De ebrietate, dans un passage que nous verrons plus tard. Mais à côté de cette ποχ sceptique, et dans une relation à celle-ci dont il nous faudra examiner les modalités, il y a ce que l’on pourrait appeler une ποχ transcendantale—même si Philon utilise le verbe, et jamais le nom, sans doute trop connoté philosophiquement—qui est celle de l’être qui comprend qu’il y a une limite pour ainsi dire naturelle à son entendement, fixée par les logoi de Dieu, comme nous pouvons le lire dans le Post. 18: Le sage souhaite connaître le Souverain de l’Univers, et quand il marche sur le chemin qui passe par la science et la sagesse, il rencontre d’abord des logoi divins, auprès desquels il fait une première halte et, bien résolu à poursuivre le reste du chemin, il suspend sa marche. Car les yeux de sa pensée se sont ouverts et il a vu de façon plus pénétrante qu’il s’est préparé en athlète à la poursuite d’un objet difficile à capturer qui recule toujours, se retire au loin et laisse ses poursuivants en arrière en mettant entre eux et lui une distance infinie (πε.ρGω τG8 μεταξC διαστματι).

Cette suspension de la marche, qui est donc la métaphore de la suspension de la recherche est donc gnoséologique et métaphysique, mais aussi éthique. S’arrêter lorsqu’on s’approche de Dieu implique que l’on va chercher à devenir comme lui, autrement dit immobile, et que l’on ne se laissera pas emporter par la dynamique des désirs.26 Ce qui est valable pour le Sage l’est à un autre niveau, pour le commun des croyants:27 lorsque l’on va au Temple, dit-il, il faut que ceux qui n’ont pas le cœur pur se voilent la face et retiennent leurs convoitises et leurs désirs. Il y a là une différence fondamentale entre Philon et les Sceptiques. Ceux-ci ne prennent en compte que le sujet et considèrent la suspension du jugement comme un acte libre de rétention de l’assentiment. Chez Philon il en est autrement, car c’est Dieu qui par la force mimétique de son immuabilité retient, freine le mouvement. Le sujet est retenu, comme cela est dit en Post. 28: De même, à mon avis, que ce qui est tordu est redressé par une règle droite, de même ce qui est en mouvement est retenu et arrêté (π0χετα. κα1 ]σταται) par la force de celui qui se tient immobile.

26 27

Sur ce point, cf. notamment Deus, 22. Spec. 1.270.

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La suspension gnoséologique du jugement n’est donc pour Philon qu’un aspect d’une attitude existentielle générale de rétention qui renvoie toujours en dernière instance à la puissance divine. Nous avons vu ce qu’il en est chez le sage, chez qui cette rétention se fait volontairement par imitation de Dieu. Mais, ceux qui ne sont pas sages sont eux-mêmes tenus en bride par Dieu qui peut le leur rappeler à l’occasion de la manière la plus brutale, comme cela est rappelé en Somn. 2.294, où appliquant la métaphore platonicienne du cocher ailé à la relation entre l’homme et Dieu, il dit que celui-ci leur passant le frein, tirant avec force sur les rênes jusque là flottantes (τ< κεχαλασμ0νον τ8ν +νι8ν \π.σω β.>α τε.νας), resserrant les muselières, leur rappellera à coups de fouet et d’aiguillon que sa puissance est absolue et qu’ils l’avaient oubliée à cause de la bonté et de la douceur, comme le font les mauvais serviteurs.

Il reste à déterminer comment s’effectue l’articulation entre, d’une part, cette rétention de caractère théologique, dont la traduction philosophique pourrait être le Yς κατA τ< δυνατν platonicien,28 imposant à l’être humain dans son imitation de Dieu des limites pour ainsi dire statutaires, et, d’autre part, l’ποχ des sceptiques néo-pyrrhoniens et néo-académiciens qui se présente comme étant libre de tout présupposé métaphysique. On notera que le mot ποχ ne connaît qu’une occurrence chez Philon, ce qui est en soi remarquable quand on sait que le verbe, lui, est employé près de cent fois.29 Il est probable qu’il a cherché à éviter un terme qui était, encore plus que le verbe, emblématique du scepticisme. Son unicité même donne à ce passage une signification particulière, qu’il convient d’étudier avec soin. Il s’agit donc du commentaire allégorique du sacrifice d’Isaac.30 Au moment où l’enfant s’inquiète de savoir où est l’agneau pour l’holocauste, Abraham lui répond: “Dieu se pourvoira” et ils découvrent un bélier qui s’était pris les cornes dans un buisson. Philon explique que cet animal représente l’ποχ, parce que “la meilleure victime c’est l’immobilité et la suspension du jugement sur les points où les preuves font totalement défaut”, et il ajoute: on peut déclarer seulement ceci: “Dieu verra”. L’univers lui est connu, il l’éclaire d’une lumière très éclatante, à savoir lui-même. Le monde créé Theaet. 176b. Très précisément 97 fois, avec des sens très différents qui diluent en quelque sorte l’acception purement sceptique du terme. 30 Fug. 136. 28 29

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carlos lévy ne peut déclarer rien d’autre: sur lui sont répandues d’épaisses ténèbres, et dans les ténèbres il est prudent de rester tranquille.

On notera que le texte est dans la continuité de Post. 28, en ceci que l’ποχ n’a pas une signification humaine, mais divine. Abraham la découvre littéralement comme don de Dieu, alors que lui-même arrive au sacrifice sans elle. Plus exactement, le patriarche fait preuve d’ποχ en disant “Dieu se pourvoira”, mais c’est Dieu lui-même qui donne leur sens à ces paroles en les acceptant comme substitut du sacrifice d’Isaac et qui en donne une représentation visuelle, dans l’interprétation allégorique de Philon, par l’image du bélier empêtré dans un buisson. Pourquoi cette image précisément? Le terme de κρις qui désigne cet animal est souvent employé dans le corpus philonien, avec des identifications allégoriques complexes. En Somn. 1.199 les boucs et les béliers représentent les concepts parfaits, “pleins d’ardeur pour opérer la diminution des péchés et l’accroissement des bonnes actions” qui saillissent les brebis et les chèvres, autrement dit les âmes jeunes et tendres. Dans Her. 125, le bélier représente la fonction de réfutation du langage, qui permet de venir à bout des sophismes et qui donne à celui qui s’en sert de la stabilité et de l’équilibre. En revanche, dans Leg. 3.129–131, la nature du bélier est présentée comme impulsive et incontrôlée (:ρμητικ<ν κα1 2κριτον), et l’offrande par Moïse du poitrail du bélier de l’investiture (Lev 8:29) est présentée comme l’acte par lequel il se libère des passions. On notera que la nature du bélier est mise en relation au § 131 avec l’ριστικ<ν εBδος, cette passion des querelles dont nous avons vu qu’elle était pour Philon la caractéristique des sophistes et des différents sceptiques. On peut donc dire que le bélier représente la dynamique de l’âme, sa :ρμ qui peut se mettre au service de la raison ou devenir passion incontrôlable. En identifiant l’ποχ au bélier, Philon retourne le concept sceptique contre ceux qui l’ont inventé. Son ποχ signifie que l’âme accepte les limites qui lui sont fixées par Dieu et qu’elle neutralise l’ριστικ<ν εBδος auquel il arrive à Philon d’identifier l’animal. Le buisson dans lequel se bélier s’empêtre et qui est désigné par un hapax dans le corpus philonien: ν φυτG8 Σαβ0κ ne peut pas ne pas faire penser, malgré cette singularité, au buisson du Sinaï. Un peu plus loin, en effet, dans le même traité,31 Philon montre Moïse allant vers le buisson ardent—le terme de βτος est employé pour désigner celui-ci—avec l’intention d’apprendre quelles sont les causes ultimes, mais c’est Dieu 31

Fug. 161 s.

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qui précisément va faire que l’interrogation de Moïse s’arrête comme s’était arrêtée celle d’Isaac: Il est déjà sur le point de s’engager à fond dans un labeur sans résultat et vain quand il en est déchargé par la compassion et la prévoyance du Dieu sauveur universel, qui a rendu de son sanctuaire l’oracle suivant: “Ne t’approche pas d’ici”; ce qui revient à dire: N’entreprends pas une telle investigation, car ce travail exige une minutie et un goût de l’activité qui dépassent les possibilités humaines.

L’épisode du buisson ardent agit comme une explicitation de celui du sacrifice d’Isaac. Dans ce dernier, Dieu ce manifeste par un miracle, mais ne parle pas, tandis que sur le Sinaï, Dieu use de son verbe pour imposer à Moïse la limite que ni lui ni aucun autre homme ne devra jamais franchir. Cette conversion du concept sceptique d’ποχ permet de définir avec précision la relation de Philon à la Nouvelle Académie. Comme Arcésilas, il pense que l’homme vit dans les ténèbres, mais à la différence du fondateur de cette orientation sceptique, il affirme explicitement que la lumière existe en Dieu qui éclaire le monde.32 Le passage du scepticisme au moyen platonisme, qui existe aussi en milieu païen, comme le montre notamment le Commentaire du Théétète,33 s’effectue chez Philon par l’intermédiaire de la transcendance biblique. Reste alors à savoir comment évoluent les autres concepts caractéristiques du probabilisme néo-académicien alors même que la perspective a fondamentalement changé, puisque c’est sur fond de lumière divine que s’inscrit la démarche sceptique. Cette inversion de perspective est tout particulièrement remarquable. Alors que, dans la philosophie néoacadémicienne, la pensée du philosophe scrute les ténèbres au-delà desquelles il se dit qu’il y a peut-être la vérité, mais n’arrive pas à s’extraire de celles-ci,34 dans le De opificio,35 c’est Dieu qui, en quelque sorte de l’autre côté des ténèbres, voit l’être humain à venir comme visant le probable, mais incapable d’aller plus loin dans l’appréhension de la 32 Sur la question de la lumière chez Philon, voir F.N. Klein, Die Lichtterminologie bei Philon von Alexandrien und in den hermetischen Schriften. Untersuchungen zur Struktur der religiösen Sprache der hellenistischen Mystik (Leiden 1962). 33 Voir G. Bastianini–D.N. Sedley, “Commentarium in Platonis Theaetetum”, in Corpus dei papiri filosofici greci e latini, III (Florence 1995), 227–562. 34 Voir Cic. Ac. po. 1.45: Arcesilas negabat esse quicquam quod sciri posset, ne illud quidem quod Socrates sibi reliquisset, ut nihil scire se sciret; sic omnia latere censebat in occulto neque esse quicquam quod cerni aut intellegi posset. 35 Opif. 45.

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vérité absolue. L’expression στοχαστα1 τ8ν ε9κτων κα1 πι"αν8ν ν οgς πολC τ< ε_λογον témoigne elle-même d’une réélaboration intéressante du langage sceptique. Dans les témoignages sur la Nouvelle Académie, le terme ε9κς est rare, l’ε_λογον semble caractériser le scepticisme d’Arcésilas et le πι"ανν celui de Carnéade. Il n’en est pas exactement ainsi chez Philon où l’ε9κς—terme assurément platonicien chez lui— et le πι"ανν désignent les vérités relatives dont l’humanité se satisfait naturellement, tandis que l’ε_λογον valorise celles-ci en indiquant qu’elles relèvent, malgré tout d’un effort de la raison. Dans ce texte à tous égards fondamental, Philon montre Dieu voyant l’homme qu’il va créer se détournant de la vérité pure (τ3ς κραιφνοLς λη"ε.ας) pour se contenter d’apparences vraisemblables. Un bon exemple de cette attitude est celui des Juifs qui, lors de l’Exode, refusèrent d’obéir à Moïse lorsqu’il leur enjoignit de ne pas mettre de côté la manne que Dieu fit pleuvoir pour eux et qui suscitèrent ainsi la colère du prophète:36 Et comment pouvait-il ne pas le faire, alors que ces gens qui avaient vu ("εασμενοι) tant et de si grands prodiges, irréalisables à en juger d’après ce qui est apparemment vraisemblable et raisonnable (πρ<ς μHν τAς πι"ανAς κα1 ελγους φαντασ.ας δ6νατα πραχ"3ναι), mais aisément réalisés par la sagesse divine, ces gens, dis-je, non seulement doutent, mais ont de la défiance, eux qui de tous sont les plus rebelles à l’éducation.

Le raisonnement est ici complexe. Il sous-entend que ces gens se laissent guider, comme les sceptiques néo-académiciens, par les représentations vraisemblables, or ce qu’ils ont vu de leurs propres yeux contredit la vraisemblance. Ils se trouvent donc dans la situation de sujets qui préféreraient à l’évidence d’une représentation cataleptique des représentations simplement probables, le problème étant que l’évidence en question n’est pas, comme dans la doctrine stoïcienne, celle de la relation naturelle de l’homme au monde, mais celle de sa relation à sa transcendance. Le πι"ανν et l’ε_λογον sont fondés, dans le stoïcisme comme dans le scepticisme, sinon sur une notion de fréquence qui n’est jamais explicitée, du moins sur un sentiment de familiarité avec le monde. L’évidence, exceptionnelle, de la transcendance dans les différents épisodes de l’Exode, en même temps qu’elle contrarie les mécanismes de la nature, disqualifie le probable et le vraisemblable qui se définissaient comme des approximations de ceux-ci. Le seul dont il est dit explicitement qu’il ait poursuivi cette vérité pure est Moïse, à qui 36

Mos. 2.261.

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Dieu s’est révélé directement,37 Moïse qui, lorsqu’ils se lamentent de ne pas avoir les moyens de passer la Mer Rouge dit aux Hébreux:38 “Pourquoi ne croyez-vous que ce qui paraît naturel et vraisemblable”, tout comme Abraham n’avait éprouvé aucune inquiétude devant ce désert où, normalement, aucune victime pour le sacrifice ne devait apparaître. Le scepticisme de Philon n’est donc pas un dogmatisme négatif, et à vrai dire il ne correspond à aucune des catégories qui structurent l’histoire du scepticisme grec. C’est le seul cas, en effet, où le scepticisme existe avant le sceptique puisque la vocation de l’homme à rechercher le vraisemblable de préférence au vrai est affirmée par Dieu avant même que l’humanité n’ait été créée. Il a un enracinement ontologique qui tient à l’incommensurabilité de l’homme à Dieu et au fait que la partie rationnelle se trouve mêlée dans l’âme à des puissances qui ne le sont pas. De ce fait, il y aura un bon et un mauvais usage du doute et de son corrélat, la vraisemblance. Nous ne reviendrons pas sur celui, Joseph, qui symbolise les ambiguïtés d’une action qui se contente de la probabilité, sa tunique bariolée représentant l’infinité de changements caractérisant la gestion des affaires publiques.39 Le traitement contradictoire qui est fait du personnage, sévère dans le De somniis, beaucoup plus favorable dans le De Iosepho est en lui-même significatif de l’équivocité inhérente à tout ce qui n’est pas la pure vérité. Toutefois l’affirmation si souvent répétée que Dieu est insaisissable en ce qui concerne son être40 et que seules les manifestations de ses puissances sont accessibles au sage, pose le problème du domaine de définition de la connaissance. L’articulation entre la théologie négative et la philosophie apparaît de manière particulièrement nette dans la relation qui existe entre le premier livre du De specialibus legibus et le premier livre du De somniis. En Spec. 1.44, Dieu affirme que sa nature est inconnaissable et il invite 37 Sacr. 12: λλA γAρ ο τA ε9κτα κα1 πι"ανA Μωυσ3ς σπζεται, τ/ν δH λ"ειαν κραιφν3 μεταδιNκει. On notera la différence entre le verbe σπζεται qui suggère la clôture et la possession, et le verbe μεταδιNκει qui exprime la poursuite, non la possession. Il est dit des prosélytes en Spec. 1.51: περι0χονται δH κραιφνοLς λη"ε.ας,

mais la vérité qu’ils poursuivent est précisément celle qui leur a été transmise par Moïse. 38 Mos. 1.174: Τ. μνοις τοSς ελγοις κα1 πι"ανοSς προπιστε6ετε. 39 Cf. Somn. 1.220, Ios. 32 s. 40 Cf. Leg. 1.20, à propos de ce qui est créé par Dieu: 2δηλα κα1 τ0κμαρτα κα1 κατληπτα τG8 "νητG8 γ0νει τA δημιουργο6μενα; Post. 15: κατληπτος : "ε<ς παντ., cf. également ibid. 169: παν"D ;σα μετA τ<ν "ε<ν τG8 σπουδα.Gω καταληπτ, ατ<ς δH μνος κατληπτος; Conf. 138; Mut. 15; Somn. 1.67.

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Moïse à se tourner plutôt vers la connaissance de soi, version biblique, ou en tout cas exégétique, de la transformation inspirée par Socrate à la philosophie: Mais la compréhension de mon être, non seulement la nature humaine, mais encore le ciel et le monde entier ne sauraient la contenir. Donc connais-toi toi-même et ne te laisse pas entraîner par des élans et des aspirations au-dessus de tes moyens. Le désir de choses inaccessibles ne doit pas t’exalter et te faire perdre pied, car aucune des choses accessibles ne te sera interdite.

Lorsque le prophète insiste, demandant à connaître au moins les Puissances, Dieu lui répond que seule la manifestation de celles-ci lui sera accessible, autrement dit la contemplation par la pensée du monde et de tout ce qu’il contient. Dans le grand passage sceptique du De somniis 1 s., le mouvement d’ensemble reprend pour l’essentiel celui de la première Tusculane, à savoir l’articulation de doxographies montrant l’impossibilité de connaître le ciel d’abord, puis l’âme avec l’affirmation du précepte delphique.41 Structure du passage: § 14: exégèse de Gen 21:25; 26:19–23, et définition du problème: pourquoi alors que les gens d’Abraham et d’Isaac ont creusé quatre puits, c’est le quatrième et dernier qui reçut le nom de Serment (;ρκος); § 15–16: principe exégétique: les quatre puits représentent les quatre éléments, dont trois sont saisissables par l’intelligence, tandis que le quatrième est, de l’avis de tous, impossible à saisir (κατληπτον π=σι τοSς κριταSς); § 17: définition de la terre; § 18–19: définition de l’eau; § 20–21: caractère incompréhensible du ciel (: δDοραν<ς κατληπτον Eχει τ/ν φ6σιν): doxographie du ciel: masse solide de cristal? feu parfaitement pur? cinquième élément sans rapport avec les autres? Question annexe: la sphère des fixes a-t-elle une épaisseur, ou est-elle une surface sans épaisseur, comparable à une figure géométrique? § 22: les astres sont-ils des masses de feu? forment-ils une harmonie continue? ont-ils une âme? une intelligence? Leur mouvement est-il libre ou nécessaire? § 23: la lumière de la lune est-elle propre, ou produite par réverbération, ou ni l’une ni l’autre. Conclusion sur le ciel et les astres:

41 Cf. C. Lévy, “L’âme et le moi dans les Tusculanes”, Revue des Etudes Latines 80 (2002), 78–94.

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§ 23–24: tout ce que nous savons sur eux est incertain: 2δηλα κα1 κατληπτα, στοχασμοSς κα1 ε9κασ.αις, ο παγ.Gω λγGω τ3ς λη"ε.ας φορμοLντα; § 25: les parties de notre être sont au nombre de quatre: corps, sensibilité, parole, esprit; § 26: nous pouvons connaître le corps; § 27: connaissance des sens; § 28–29: connaissance du son et de la parole; § 30–33: doxographie de l’âme: n’est pas corporelle (souffle, sang, corps quelconque) mais incorporelle: contour, image, nombre, durée continue, harmonie? moment d’entrée et de sortie? Place dans le corps? § 57: Il faut descendre du ciel et se connaître soi-même: καταγαγUν δD πDορανοL τ<ν κατσκοπον κα1 ντισπσας π< τ3ς κεS ζητσεως γν8"ι σεαυτν.

Au § 58, Tharé, père d’Abraham, est présenté explicitement comme l’équivalent biblique de Socrate, la différence étant à ses yeux que Socrate était un homme, tandis que Tharé représente l’idée même de la connaissance de soi, il constitue l’étape qui précède la conversion d’Abraham. Le passage du De somniis et celui du De specialibus legibus reposent donc sur la distinction entre ce que l’homme peut connaître et ce qui ne lui est pas accessible, la différence étant celle des points de vue. Dans l’exposition de la Loi, le point de vue est celui de Dieu, qui s’exprime sur ce qu’il veut laisser connaître de lui-même. Dans le De somniis, la question de la définition du domaine de la connaissance est vue d’en bas, c’est-à-dire à partir des efforts de l’homme pour accéder au savoir. La philosophie comme effort d’aller vers le haut, la théologie comme parole divine octroyée coïncident dans ce point central qu’est le précepte de la connaissance de soi, lui-même condition à l’accueil de la Révélation. Si l’on compare maintenant le passage du De somniis avec ce que l’on trouve chez Cicéron, on notera d’abord que le mouvement général de la doxographie du De somniis n’est pas sans rappeler celui que l’on trouve dans celle du Lucullus cicéronien, dont nous rappelons les grands mouvements: 117–118: de principiis rerum dissensio; 119–121: de mundo; 122: corpora nostra non nouimus; 123: terra, luna, stellas, caelum; 124: sed redeo ad animum et corpus (Dicéarque, Platon, Xénocrate, etc.).

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Dans la première Tusculane, l’impossibilité de connaître la nature de l’âme (§§ 18–23) aboutit à la conclusion que la connaissance de la vérité sur celle-ci n’appartient qu’à un dieu:42 Harum sententiarum quae uera sit, deus aliqui uiderit; quae ueri simillima, magna quaestio est, elle est le point de départ pour l’adoption de l’anthropologie du Premier Alcibiade— l’homme n’est rien d’autre que son âme—et vers une croyance en l’immortalité de l’âme inspirée du Phédon. Ajoutons que les similitudes avec le premier livre des Tusculanes ne se limitent pas au fait que le ‘connais-toi toi-même’ apparaît comme la seule voie véritable ouverte à la recherche et qui permette d’aller vers le bonheur. Des ressemblances plus précises peuvent être mises en évidence, comme le montre la comparaison de ces deux passages, concernant les sens: Somn. 1.27: 2γγελοι διανο.ας ε9σ1 διαγγ0λλουσαι χρNματα, σχματα, φωνς … κα1 ;τι δορυφροι ψυχ3ς ε9σιν Tusc. 1.46–47: Quid quod eadem mente res dissimillimas comprendimus, ut colorem, saporem, calorem, odorem sonum? Quae numquam quinque nuntiis animus cognosceret, nisi ad eum omnia referrentur et is omnium iudex solus esset.

Cette comparaison entre Philon et Cicéron montre qu’il y avait déjà à l’époque de celui-ci une articulation assez nette entre scepticisme et transcendance, dont l’origine est difficile à préciser car elle ne correspond pas à ce que nous savons de ces deux maîtres académiciens, Antiochus d’Ascalon et Philon de Larissa. Comme, par ailleurs, il est improbable que Cicéron ait été lui-même l’initiateur de ce mouvement, il faut croire qu’il y avait déjà au Ier siècle av. J.-C. des penseurs qui avaient effectué la jonction entre le scepticisme défendu par la Nouvelle Académie et une forme beaucoup plus dogmatique de platonisme et que des doxographies furent élaborées dans ce sens, qui furent utilisées aussi bien par Cicéron que par Philon. Reste que le rapprochement entre ces deux auteurs ne peut être que très partiel. Cicéron assume les croyances platoniciennes à partir de son identité hautement affirmée de néo-académicien. En quelque sorte, il se déplace avec beaucoup de virtuosité dialectique et littéraire à l’intérieur de l’espace historique du platonisme. Philon, lui, introduit cet élément radicalement nouveau qu’est la Révélation et inaugure la longue série de ceux qui ont cherché à montrer que le doute systématique et la foi ne sont pas nécessairement contradictoires.

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PHILO ON STOIC PHYSICS

Anthony A. Long

Introduction For his ingenious exegesis of the Torah, Philo refracts and combines Stoic ideas in numerous and often creative ways. To do full justice to this aspect of his intellectual context would require not only a substantial monograph but also expertise on the Philonic corpus that I do not possess. My project in this chapter, then, is not a comprehensive study of what Philo does with Stoic physics, but his value as a source of information on this large topic, by which I mean especially information that we owe exclusively or at least most fully to him. I begin by highlighting a remarkable discrepancy between the way von Arnim drew on Philo for what is still the standard collection of evidence for early Stoic philosophers (Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta) and citations of Philo by contemporary scholars of Stoicism. The Index volume for von Arnim’s collection lists some 190 passages from Philo. More than half of these entries are included in his volume 2, the bulk of which treats material the Stoics themselves regarded as falling under the generic heading of Physics. Cosmology and theology also predominate in references by contemporary scholars to Philo as a Stoic source, but by extreme numerical contrast with von Arnim, A.A. Long–D.N. Sedley (The Hellenistic Philosophers, Cambridge 1987) excerpt only 10 texts from Philo, B. Inwood–L.P. Gerson (Hellenistic Philosophy. Elementary Readings, Indianapolis 1998) none at all, while K.A. Algra, J. Barnes, J. Mansfeld and M. Schofield (The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy, Cambridge 1999) cite only 17 passages in their Index Locorum.1 How should we account for this huge discrepancy? 1 In K.A. Algra–J. Barnes–J. Mansfeld–M. Schofield (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy, cit., Philo is chiefly cited for De aeternitate and De providentia. In A.A. Long–D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, cit., the excerpts are as follows: Leg. 1.30 (53 P); ibid. 2.22–23 (47 P); Deus, 35–36 (47 Q); Aet. 48 (28 P), 52, 54 (52 A); 76–77 (46 P), 90 (46 M); QG 2.4 (47 R); Cher. 14–15 (59 H); Prob. 97 (67 N). Only the last two excerpts pertain to ethics.

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In his preface (SVF vol. 1, 19) von Arnim likens Philo to Seneca in “his dependence on Posidonius, other Middle Stoic authors and Antiochus”. What distinguishes Philo, however, is his focus on “the characters of the wise and the foolish, which is agreed to have been more the province of the early Stoics”. Von Arnim’s judgment about Philo’s “dependence” reflects an outlook on Quellenforschung that is largely outdated, but it helps to explain why he excerpted a large number of passages to illustrate (supposedly) early Stoic ethics in his volume 3. What his judgment does not explain is his copious use of Philo’s De providentia and De animalibus, texts that survive only in Armenian translation. One reason that David Sedley and I did not include any passages from these Philonic works in The Hellenistic Philosophers was our ignorance of Armenian and our wish to provide readers with Greek or Latin texts that would bring them as close as possible to the language of the Stoic philosophers themselves. The other reason, which is more relevant to this chapter, was the belief that Philo’s thought, as represented in these works, especially De providentia, was generally less useful and less accurate as a source for Stoic physics than other material available to us, especially Cicero’s De natura deorum. I am far from suggesting that De providentia should be completely ignored in future collections of authentic and accurate material on early Stoicism (see below). My point is simply that von Arnim excerpted from it excessively and with much too little attention to Philo’s dialectical contexts in this unusual work. To justify this last point in detail is not my purpose here. I mention it in order to register what I take to be a broad scholarly consensus today concerning von Arnim’s overly generous use of Philo in material he presents for Stoic physics, at the expense of a more generous selection he could have made from works of Cicero and Seneca. In what follows I shall begin with observations about Philo’s explicitly doxographical allusions to Stoicism or Stoic philosophers in De aeternitate mundi. Next I shall review his most significant evidence for Stoic physics in other works. Finally I will offer a short reading of De opificio mundi, treating this work as a test case for assessing Philo’s implicit and in large part (I conjecture) unconscious allusions to Stoic cosmology.

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Explicit allusions to Stoicism in De aeternitate mundi Philo rarely makes explicit allusions to philosophers, philosophical schools, and specific works, setting aside his references to Plato and the Timaeus.2 The chief exception to this practice is De aeternitate mundi.3 In its transmitted form this work is a defence of the world’s eternity, though Philo, as befits his religion and his strong reliance on Plato’s Timaeus, primarily defends the world’s indestructibility rather than its uncreatedness. Stoic philosophers, or to be precise, “the main crowd” of them, enter the text (sections 8–9) in the author’s initial doxographical survey as representatives, along with Democritus and Epicurus, of those who endorse the world’s creation and eventual destruction. Whereas the atomists postulate the creation and destruction of many worlds, The Stoics posit only one world, making God the cause of its creation, but making the cause of its destruction not God but the power of ever active fire that exists in beings. This fire over the course of long periods resolves everything into itself, and out of it a reborn world is constituted by the [divine] craftsman’s providence. According to these people the world can be called eternal in one respect and perishable in another respect, perishable in respect to the phase of its structured existence (diakosmesis), but eternal in respect to its being immortal by virtue of the ceaseless rebirths and periods that occur because of the conflagration.4

Philo explains his qualification concerning “the main crowd” of Stoic philosophers much later (76 ff.) when he turns to those Stoics who rejected or doubted the doctrines of periodic destruction and recon2 In the course of expounding the Timaeus, Philo (17) reports a suggestion that Hesiod “fathered” Plato’s doctrine on the basis of Theog. 116 f. with its reference to chaos as the primary being. To this report Philo appends (in the manner of a footnote) Aristotle’s identification of chaos with “space” (Phys. Δ 1.208b29) and the proposal by “some Stoics” that chaos signifies water, a widely attested exegesis, first attributed to Zeno (SVF 1.103–104). 3 See D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, in D.T. Runia, Exegesis and Philosophy. Studies on Philo of Alexandria, chapter 8 (Aldershot 1990), first published in Vigiliae Christianae 35 (1981), 105–151, for a detailed defence of this work’s authenticity and the scholarly controversies it has aroused. I have to confess some doubts about whether Philo actually wrote it, but here I shall assume its genuineness. 4 SVF 2.620. Philo’s distinction between cosmic fire and God would be repudiated by most Stoics. Cf. D.T. Runia, “Philo’s De aeternitate mundi: the Problem of its Interpretation”, cit., 125, who is probably right to take Philo’s refusal to credit the world’s destruction to God as “viewing the Stoic doctrine through the spectacles of his own thought”.

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stitution. Before turning to that important and unique testimony, we need to pause over sections 45–51, which present our fullest evidence for the Stoic doctrine that two peculiarly qualified individuals cannot occupy the same substance. The context of this passage is the conclusion to Philo’s argument (citing the Timaeus) that God’s craftsman-like and providential nature is incompatible with the destruction of the world—his very own handiwork. Starting an argument that almost certainly derives from Academic criticism of the Stoics, Philo reviews the four elements earth, air, fire, and water, and argues that if any of them were destroyed, all living things that inhabit them would also be destroyed.5 By analogy, If the heaven is destroyed, sun and moon, and the other planets, and the fixed stars will be destroyed … which is equivalent to imagining that gods are destroyed … whereas it is impossible for gods to lose their indestructibility, even if human philosophies maintain such evil nonsense.6

Philo continues (Aet. 47 = SVF 2.613) with an argument that now attacks Stoic doctrine head on: Moreover the expounders of conflagrations and cosmic rebirths also admit that the stars are gods, which they are not ashamed to destroy with their theory. In fact they should either declare them to be masses of fiery metal … or, in virtue of believing them to be divine or superhuman natures, they should go on to credit them with the indestructibility suitable to gods. As it is, they are so distant from true doctrine that they fail to notice that they are inconsistently attributing destruction to providence as well, which is the soul of the world.

To support this piece of polemic, Philo (Aet. 48 = SVF 2.397 = 28 P Long-Sedley) cites a substantial passage from Chrysippus’s On the Growing [Argument], to the effect that “it is impossible for two peculiarly qualified individuals to occupy the same substance jointly”. According to Chrysippus’s doctrine, which recent scholarship has rightly found fascinating, glaring problems of identity arise when we ask what happens to two distinct individuals if one of them at time t * loses the very property that marked their distinctness at earlier time t. According to Philo, 5 See Plut. De comm. not. 1077c, who attributes to Academics the attack on the Stoics that Philo also reports at Aet. 48–51. 6 I omit Philo’s claim that taking gods to be destructible is equivalent to (presumably meaning “is as absurd as”) supposing that human beings are immortal. For destructible gods in Stoicism, see A.A. Long, From Epicurus to Epictetus (Oxford 2006), chapter 6, 123–26. Note that von Arnim does not include any of Aet. 45–46.

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Chrysippus exemplified his thesis by inviting his readers to puzzle over the question which of two men survives if, with one of them originally having two feet and the other originally only one, the two-footed man loses a foot. We need not enter into the complexities of the Stoic doctrine itself.7 What need to be mentioned here are two points concerning Philo’s manner of presenting this material. First, Philo finds it ‘paradoxical’ to say, as Chrysippus supposedly did, that the man who perishes is the one who only had a single foot all along (48–49). Even if (as I suspect) Philo has lifted this comment from his source, it indicates a superficially intelligent rejoinder to this recherché material. Second, and more important, Philo elaborates his earlier claim concerning the Stoics’ unwitting destruction of providence (49–51): By following up the form of the argument and applying it to the whole world, one will very clearly show that providence itself is also destroyed. Consider it this way. Posit on the one hand the world, as analogous to Dion, the complete one, and on the other hand the world soul, as analogous to Theon (because the part is less than the whole), and now, as in the case of removing Dion’s foot, remove everything bodily from the world. Accordingly one must say that the world, which has had its body removed, has not been destroyed but the soul of the world has been destroyed, just like Theon who remained unchanged. The world has passed into a lesser substance, since its bodily constituent has been removed, and its soul has been destroyed because two peculiarly qualified individuals cannot occupy the same substrate. It is outrageous to say that providence is destroyed, but if providence is indestructible, the world too is indestructible.

This argument would be extremely obscure were it not for the following statement by Plutarch (De comm. not. 1077e = SVF 2.1064 = 28 O, 4 Long-Sedley): Chrysippus says that Zeus and the world are like a man and providence like his soul, so that when the conflagration comes Zeus, being the only imperishable one among the gods, withdraws into providence, whereupon both, having come together, continue to occupy the single substance of aether.

Thanks to Plutarch’s testimony, we can see that the strategy of the Academics was to juxtapose the Stoics’ metaphysical doctrine concerning “peculiarly qualified individuals” (i.e. the impossibility of there being 7 See most recently R. Sorabji, Self. Ancient and Modern Insights about Individuality, Life, and Death (Chicago–Oxford 2006), 83–86.

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two qualitatively identical substances) with their cosmological thesis concerning Zeus and providence, and allege that they were flagrantly inconsistent. Chrysippus could go some way to escape this challenge by rejecting the critics’ literal reading of his analogies (like a man and like his soul) and insisting on the absolute identity of Zeus and providence, but his final sentence concerning their occupancy of the single substance aether continues to offer a plausible target. Thanks to Plutarch’s text we can make sense of Philo’s elaborate argument with its unique report of Chrysippus’s examples of Dion’s and Theon’s feet, but we can also see that his criticism of the Stoics is quite tendentious. Philo fails to mention Zeus’s unique status as the Stoics’ one imperishable god and also the permanent identity of Zeus with providence and the world soul.8 How far, if at all, Philo has made his own independent contribution to these thoroughly technical arguments seems impossible to say. In the next three sections of De aeternitate (52–54) Philo supports the world’s eternity with the following argument: The world is coeval with time. Time has no beginning or end. Therefore the world has no beginning or end.9 Philo initially supports his first premise by reference to Tim. 37e, but he then continues: People who are in the habit of defining things are on target in taking time to be the dimension (diastema) of the world’s motion.

This definition is quite compatible with Plato’s text, as Philo realizes, but the philosophers he mysteriously calls practitioners of definition are unquestionably Stoics. This is the standard Stoic definition of time;10 and it soon becomes evident that Stoics were explicitly mentioned in Philo’s source material; for at the end of this passage he writes: Perhaps some quibbling Stoic will say that what is meant by the definition of time as dimension of the world’s motion is not only that of the presently structured world but also that of the world imagined to exist at the conflagration. One should respond to him: “My dear man, by an inversion of language you are giving the negation of world-order (akosmia) See Plut. De comm. not. 1077e (SVF 2.1064). Philo uses essentially the same argument at Opif. 26, where he again draws on the definition of time as dimension of the world’s motion. 10 SVF 2.509–513, 515; 51 A, B, D, E Long-Sedley. 8 9

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the name world (-order, kosmos). For if this world that we see is literally and most fittingly called kosmos, since it has been organized and structured with supremely perfect craftsmanship, one would have to call its change into fire the negation of world-order”.11

Given this polemic, with its reference to the conflagration, I am inclined to think that Philo derived his material for sections 52–54 from the same Academic source that he used for the immediately preceding sections 45–51. Before the passage about the quibbling Stoic, Philo argues as follows: 1. Time is the dimension of the world’s motion. 2. Therefore the world is coeval with time. 3. Time has no beginning or end, and could not exist independently of the world.12 4. Therefore both time and the world are everlasting. Stoics are straightforwardly committed to steps 1 and 3. I suggest that their opponents sought to trap them with step 2 by exploiting an ambiguity in the term “world”, and then have them conclude that the present world is everlasting, contrary to the Stoics’ commitment to its termination in a conflagration and subsequent reconstitution. If “world” (kosmos) means the presently structured world (diakosmesis), Stoics should reject propositions 2 and 4 because this present world will end. If, on the other hand, “world” is taken to include both the present world and the ensuing conflagration (and, one should add, the infinite number of previous and future sequences—cf. Aet. 9, cited above), the Stoics could accept propositions 2 and 4, just as Philo’s “quibbling Stoic” proposes.13 The Stoic doctrine of our present world’s limited duration was incompatible with Platonic and Aristotelian doctrine, and also with Philo’s understanding of Scripture. Although he was aware that everlasting recurrence gave the Stoics a notion of an eternal world in a qualified sense of eternal (Aet. 9), he or his sources for the present passage preferred to attack them by arguing that the world cannot be ever11 Von Arnim appends this passage to the end of SVF 2.509, which principally excerpts Stob. Ecl. 1.106 W., 5–23. 12 For the Stoics’ commitment to the infinity of time, see Stob. Ecl. 1. 105, 8–106, 4 W. (51 DE Long-Sedley). At Aet. 75 Philo appeals to “the best theorists of natural philosophy” for what is clearly a Stoic account of fate as an endless and unbroken causal chain. Philo infers from this account that the world is eternal. 13 For different applications of the term kosmos, see D.L. 7.137 (44 F Long–Sedley).

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lasting in any proper sense if the structure we inhabit is to end in a conflagration. For Philo and (as I have to keep adding) his source(s) for De aeternitate the Stoic doctrine of conflagration and everlasting recurrence was clearly the greatest challenge that they felt the need to address. Any doubt on that score dissipates once we review sections 76–107. The passage is much too long to be discussed in full, so I begin with the following outline: 1. 2. 3. 4.

(76–77) Stoic defenders of the present world’s indestructibility.14 (78–88) Boethus’s arguments in support of indestructibility.15 (89–103) Refutation of Chrysippus’s defence of the conflagration. (104–107) General arguments against the conflagration.

Philo begins by reporting the recantations of Boethus and Panaetius, and the reputed doubts of the elderly Diogenes of Babylon (46 P LongSedley). He then gives a lengthy report of Boethus’s objections, first rebutting the idea of the world’s destruction (78–82), next questioning the role of God during the conflagration (83–84), and thirdly, raising difficulties about the function of fire during this phase (85–88).16 I had previously supposed, like most recent scholars, that Boethus wrote after Chrysippus, but I now incline to think that Chrysippus elaborated his version of the conflagration partly as a response to Boethus, whose arguments seem to attack a much less sophisticated account of this doctrine. In which case we should take them to have been more or less contemporaneous. Philo in fact turns to Chrysippus after presenting Boethus, and that order of treatment may be thought to give support to this suggestion.17 14 These sections 76–77 contain fine examples of Philonic rhetoric—the beauty of truth, the divine inspiration that influenced Boethus and Panaetius, the purity of intellect necessary for assessing things that are to be reverenced. 15 Von Arnim takes the report of Boethus to end at section 84 (SVF 3.265–267), but Philo’s context indicates that it probably continues to the end of section 88. 16 Space prevents me from discussing Boethus’s objections as fully as they deserve. They are chiefly interesting as instances of eliminative argumentation, to the effect that none of the three modes of destruction could apply to the world nor could any of the three forms of fire apply to the conflagration. Von Arnim treats the three-fold division of fire as general Stoic doctrine (SVF 2.612), but treats the three modes of destruction as peculiar to Boethus. In fact the latter passage should have been included in his vol. 2 in the section on “three types of body” [cf. Aet. 79 with SVF 2.366, 368 (and 1013)], with cross-reference also to the section on mixture. 17 According to the Index Stoicorum col. 51 Boethus was a pupil of Diogenes of Babylon. However, according to D.L. 7.54, he was a contemporary of Chrysippus. Some

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Having concluded his account of Boethus’s objections to the conflagration, Philo continues (Aet. 89): Therefore some Stoics whose sharper vision enabled them to catch sight of the ensuing refutation undertook to provide reinforcements for their languishing doctrine, but to no avail. Since fire is the cause of motion and motion the source of generation … they said that after the conflagration, when the new world is about to be constructed, the whole of fire is not quenched but a certain amount of it survives.18

He elaborates (Aet. 94) by citing as Chrysippus’s view the doctrine that the surviving fire is “the seed of the subsequent world”.19 Philo now launches a series of arguments against the “seed” model for the new world’s origin. The general strategy of these arguments is reductio ad absurdum, to the effect that what the Stoics require of this seed is antithetical to the empirical behaviour of seeds. The products of seeds are larger than the seeds themselves, but, supposedly, the Stoics reverse this obvious fact because, on the principle that inflamed things occupy more space than things whose flames have been quenched, the world at the conflagration will be more capacious than before that event. This is a terrible argument because it flies in the face of Chrysippus’s point that it is the residue of fire (which coexists with an otherwise liquefied world, cf. D.L. 7.136, 142) and not, as Philo lets his readers presume, the incandescent condition of everything that constitutes the seminal origin of the ensuing world.20 Philo’s last arguments against the conflagration (104–107) do not seek to set one Stoic doctrine against another. Rather than discussing this final sally, I propose to ask what should be our verdict concerning his treatment of Stoicism in this work taken as a whole? If we are interscholars avoid this chronology by emending auton to hauton ad loc., which would result in having Diogenes say that Chrysippus “disagreed with himself ”, a most improbable reading. The fact that Boethus is attested to have written a commentary on Aratus may be in favor of dating him to the third century BC, as F.H. Colson (in F.H. Colson– G.H. Whitaker, Philo (London–Cambridge, Mass. 1929–1962), vol. 1, 239) proposes. 18 Von Arnim omits this passage from SVF. Note that at Aet. 90 (SVF 1.511) Philo reports the otherwise unattested testimony that, at the conflagration, the world, according to Cleanthes, changes into flame (auge) or, according to Chrysippus, into light (phlox). These are two of the three forms of fire that Boethus singles out at Aet. 86. I omit Philo’s arguments against these two doctrines. 19 SVF 2.618, which von Arnim prints as a second passage to Plut. De comm. not. 1077b. 20 Aet. 101–103 (SVF 2.619). Clearly following his source at this point, Philo makes reference to the Stoic doctrine that at the conflagration the world expands into the surrounding void. On which cf. SVF 2.609.

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ested in Philo simply as a source of Stoic doctrines, De aeternitate is of primary importance in two respects. First, it reports material on ekpyrosis (76–103) which is either unique to this work or usefully supplements our other evidence. Second, by citing Chrysippus’s intriguing puzzle concerning the future of the footless Theon if Dion also loses a foot (48–51), Philo gives us evidence concerning “peculiarly qualified individuals”, which adds importantly to what we learn from Plutarch. Philo also gives us incidental information which any major collection of Stoic material should include.21 If, on the other hand, we are interested in the accuracy of Philo’s representations of Stoicism or the pertinence and fairness of his polemical passages, we must conclude that he is often misleading, tendentious, or simply inaccurate.22 Should these shortcomings (as we moderns see them) be attributed to Philo himself or to his sources? To the latter, I suggest, for the most part. As we have already seen, Philo in this work shares common ground with Plutarch’s De communibus notitiis, and the anti-Stoic arguments that he advances or reports are no worse than those we find in Plutarch. In spite of its doxographical value (or perhaps because of it) De aeternitate tells us little about Philo’s general understanding of Stoicism or of how or why he drew on Stoicism creatively.

Evidence for Stoic physics in other works There is no question that Philo derived much of the material for his defence of providence from sources that were either composed by Stoics or ultimately dependent on Stoicism. To this extent von Arnim was justified in including a selection of excerpts from De providentia in SVF. However, in contrast with De aeternitate, where Philo repeatedly refers to individual Stoic philosophers and Stoics in general, his value as a source for the scholarly study of Stoicism in the Armenian version of De providentia is implicit at best, frequently contaminated with the Platonism of the Timaeus, and much too loosely expressed to warrant Aet. 8–9, 18 and 54, which name Stoics, and 52 and 75 which do not name them. See my comments above on Aet. 8 (distinction between God and fire), 46 (overlooking the Stoics’ “destructible gods”), 51 (implying the destruction of providence and the world soul at the conflagration), 52–54 (refusing, in spite of what he says at section 8, to accept the Stoic world’s equivocal eternity), and 94 ff. (misrepresenting the residue of fire that “seeds” the new world as the entire conflagration). 21 22

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the evidentiary importance von Arnim attached to it. There are only two instances where Philo names Stoic philosophers. At 2.48 (SVF 1.509) he cites Parmenides, Empedocles, Zeno, Cleanthes “and other divine men” as defenders of an uncreated and everlasting world. In Aet. 8, as we have seen, Philo allows the Stoic world to be eternal “in one respect”, but in the main body of that work he attacks the Stoics for taking the world to be perishable. His quartet of philosophers at Prov. 2.48 is therefore most curious. The second passage that names Stoics is 2.74 (SVF 1.548 = 2.1150). Philo’s context here is the effortless motions of the heavenly bodies, as evidence for the work of providence: These things are recognized not only by reason but also by perception, with providence the agent of such motions. According to Chrysippus and Cleanthes providence has omitted nothing that could contribute to a more determinate and useful organization. If the world’s business could have been better disposed, it would have been arranged accordingly inasmuch as nothing can happen to restrict God.

This is hardly the best evidence for Cleanthes’ and Chrysippus’s views on providence. Yet von Arnim gave it star billing in a section of SVF entitled mundum esse opus providentiae, which, except for SVF 2.1151, he drew exclusively from Philo, De providentia, and in none of which (except for the present passage) Stoicism is actually mentioned.23 As far as I can see, there is only one passage in the whole of De providentia which provides evidence for Stoic concepts that is sufficiently technical and distinctive to deserve inclusion in a collection of primary sources, though many of its details are obscure. I refer to 2.53–54, a text that von Arnim completely omitted from SVF ! The passage is put in the mouth of the character Alexander, whose disbelief in providence Philo as character in their dialogue later rebuts: There is an immense void, as certain persons have most recently stated, which passes beyond our understanding. Now it is obviously not the work of providence any more than place is. For, according to the logicians, void is a place capable of being occupied by a body.24 If neither place 23 As I mentioned at the beginning of this study, von Arnim seriously short-changed Cicero as a prime source for Stoic theology: note in particular his incomplete citations of De nat. deor. 2.37–39, which he scattered between SVF 2.641, 684, and 1153, and his complete omission of De nat. deor. 2.75–76. 24 “Logicians” is my rendering of syllogistae in the Latin translator of the Armenian original. For dialektikoi as a Philonic reference to Stoics, cf. Agr. 140 (cited below). Philo’s definition of void is a truncated version of Stoicism, cf. SVF 2.505, 543.

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anthony a. long nor surface is due to providence, the world’s spherical shape is not due to providence either. It follows, then, that everything else has occurred without providence and supervision. Furthermore, time too is infinite, and therefore cannot be justly attributed to providence. In which case, the same applies to the divisions of time into days, nights, months, years, and the entire sequence. When, then, we also ascend to the doctrine of incorporeals, we must not overlook the sources of logical questions and ideas (ideae), since it is the height of folly to suppose that questions concerning complete lekta (absolutis nominatis) species, [grammatical] cases, and conjunctions [or conditionals], and everything similar are due to providence—unless it has first been established that the matter of all incorporeals is void by their own nature. It follows that neither forms of crafts nor crafts themselves and skills are from God. If, then, neither void nor time nor partitions (termini) nor shapes nor divisions nor everything that is customarily signified through words can be ascribed to a divine intelligence, what need to speak about the rest?

With this I now compare the somewhat more coherent and terminologically precise polemic that Philo launches against verbal and logical niceties and their expert practitioners in Agr. 139–141. Setting aside for the moment his critique of “sophists” [grammarians], musicians, and geometers, I translate from the section that treats specifically of Stoics, whom Philo calls “the entire chorus of philosophers” (Agr. 139–141): Let them too chime in developing their customary themes—that, of beings, some are bodies, and others incorporeals; and of the former, some are lifeless and others have life; and of bodies some are rational, and others non-rational, some mortal, and some divine; and of the mortal, one class is male and the other female, which are subdivisions of humans; and again of the incorporeals, some are complete and others incomplete; the complete ones include questions, and inquiries, oaths and all the other specific differences that are recorded in the elementary treatises that deal with these things. Furthermore, there are what logicians are in the habit of calling propositions. Of these, some are simple and others not-simple. The not-simple include conditionals, sub-conditionals … and, in addition, disjunctives and other such, and, in addition, propositions that are true, false, and unclear, possible and impossible, perishable and imperishable, necessary and non-necessary, soluble (eupora) and insoluble (apora) and all that are related to these. Furthermore, in the case of the incomplete [incorporeals] there are divisions into socalled predicates and properties (symbebekota) and still smaller items than these.

This passage is more deserving of a Stoic doxographer’s attention than the previous one from De providentia, and it is duly excerpted by von Arnim (SVF 2.182). Even so, Philo’s material is a curious amalgam of physical and logical divisions and distinctions. He starts with a

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division into bodies and incorporeals, but the only one of the four Stoic incorporeals he treats here (in contrast with the previous passage) is lekta, and it is only to lekta (and not to void, place, and time) that the distinction between “complete” and “incomplete” pertains. Philo’s list of non-simple propositions corresponds to quite an extent with other sources (cf. SVF 2.184, 186, 187, 207), and, on the basis of such comparisons, I conjecture that Stoic handbooks varied in what they included under this heading. Even so Philo’s text is obscure, if not inaccurate, in several places.25 What are we to make of Philo’s procedure in passages such as these? Unquestionably he was drawing upon technical Stoic material. Has he simply copied out written sources, did he have at least some parts of what he has penned already in his head, has he made notes from a collection of books that he could draw upon as the need arose? I think we need to allow him all three options. What we should reject is thinking of him as a source like Diogenes Laertius in his Life of Zeno or Life of Epicurus with the aim of presenting a thoroughly accurate account of these philosophers’ doctrines. The open-ended procedure I attribute to Philo is strongly supported by the context of both passages we have been considering. In the case of De providentia Philo as discussant with Alexander has set up the Stoic doctrine of incorporeals as a strangely obscure target in a strategy for his own defence of providence. In De agricultura we need the full context (omitted by von Arnim) in which to situate Philo’s excursus into Stoic metaphysics and logic. As I already noted, he precedes this passage with a sequence of observations on precise distinctions made by experts in other fields. To grasp his main point, we need to go back to section 124 where Philo begins a homily on topics that require precise distinctions and those that do not. Theology and ethics, he says, are fields where it is essential to make such distinctions. By contrast, dividing reality down to partless atoms (135) is no more advantageous than it would be for a camel to have a divided hoof as distinct from the advantage the camel gets from chewing the cud. As the reference to the camel indicates, Philo has been 25 With Philo’s list of “complete incorporeals” cf. SVF 2.204–205, 207. Seemingly unique to this passage are “perishable and imperishable”, and “soluble and insoluble”, which reads like a conflation of propositions with arguments. Rather than take up space by discussing all the numerous obscurities in this passage, I refer the reader to M. Hadas-Lebel’s notes to her translation in Les oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie, vol. 35: De providentia I et II (Paris 1973).

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engaged not in doxography but in Biblical exegesis, puzzling over the law at Lev 11:4 which treats the camel as an unclean animal because, although it chews the cud, it does not have a divided hoof. With his inimitable ingenuity (or perversity) Philo proposes that a divided hoof is a covert way of expressing the benefits of memory, provided that memory distinguishes advantageous discourse from the useless refinements practised by quibbling sophists, representatives of special crafts, and philosophers (i.e. Stoics). I conclude this section with observations about three passages in which Philo invokes Stoic physical doctrine (without acknowledgement) as a contribution to his idiosyncratic exegesis of Scripture. At Leg. 2.19 Philo begins to explain the meaning of God’s taking from Adam one of his sides (pleura), for the creation of Eve. With extraordinary boldness Philo interprets pleura as a reference to the naked or unembodied mind (nous), and continues (Leg. 2.22 = SVF 2.458 first part = 47 P Long-Sedley): Mind … has many powers (dynameis)—of holding together (hektike), vegetative (phytike), psychic (psychike), rational (logike), calculative (dianoetike), and countless others in terms of genus and species.26

Philo repeats this classification of “powers” more or less verbatim at Deus, 35–36 (see below). Its Stoic provenance is quite certain, as can be seen by comparison with such parallel passages as SVF 2.716 (47 N), where Galen attributes to the Stoics three types of pneuma—physikon, psychikon, and hektikon—, and Sextus Empiricus, M. 9.80 (SVF 2.1013), who (without naming the Stoics) reports a similar triadic analysis of types of body, and exemplifies hexis, as Philo does, by stones and logs. Philo’s inclusion of “calculative” (dianoetike) as a fifth power could be his own pleonastic addition if the text is sound, but Stoics themselves probably included “rational” (logike) as a fourth power in some of their classifications, to mark off the distinctive quality of human souls. This is a clear and coherent account of the Stoics’ scala naturae, whereby everything, whether living or non-living, participates in hexis, vegetative powers are found in ourselves as well as in plants, psychic powers (as instanced by phantasia and horme) are common to non-rational as well as rational animals, with rationality peculiar among mortal animals to human beings. 26 For textual issues see the critical apparatus and notes to this passage at LongSedley, vol. 2, 285.

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Here, then, Philo has initiated his allegorical exegesis by reference to authentically Stoic doctrine and terminology. To be sure, Stoic philosophers did not attribute all these powers to mind when referring to nous or dianoia as a specific part of the human soul. But Philo is viewing nous abstractly or universally, as something apart from the human body, and, besides that, there are Stoic parallels for specifying cosmic nous or God in terms of hexis etc.27 The puzzle about this passage is not Philo’s doxographical accuracy but the relevance of these Stoic terms and concepts to his main points. To see just how puzzling his allusions to Stoic physics are, I need to outline the full context preceding and following our passage. From the beginning of Leg. 2 Philo’s main concept has been soul. Unlike God, who is a perfect unity, human beings consist of body and soul, and each of these in turn is composite. Soul has both rational and irrational properties. Philo’s authority for this latter claim is not Stoicism, or at least not orthodox Stoicism, but Platonism, and he makes implicit allusion to the Timaeus with his talk of archetypes and copies in reference to God and man (section 4). The Biblical text that Philo wants to elucidate now emerges: God’s creation of Eve as Adam’s helper (Gen 2:18). With the Timaeus again as his implicit authority, Philo claims that the passions and sense perception (aisthesis) are “helpers of the soul and more recent than it” (meaning the soul’s rational faculty). Philo identifies the beasts whom Adam is to name with the “passions” and Eve with “sense perception”. As such, Eve is secondary in generation to Adam (the notionally rational mind prior to Eve), who, when Eve is given to him, has his soul completed and supplemented by the irrational powers of the senses. Philo represents the rational mind and the irrational senses as alternately active, with the senses fully functioning when the mind is asleep and vice versa (section 25). Sense perception, unlike mind, can focus only on its particular objects and is fixated entirely on the present.28 In summary Philo recalls his previous statement of the mind’s faculties (section 45), to which he adds that of “sense perception”. That, as we now see, is the central concept for his exegesis of why God cre27 Cf. D.L. 7.139 on cosmic nous passing through things like bones and sinews as hexis, but as nous in the case of our hegemonikon, on which see my remarks in A.A. Long, “Soul and Body in Stoicism” Phronesis 27 (1982), 40–41 = Stoic Studies, (Cambridge 1996; Berkeley-Los Angeles 2001), 233, and Themist. De an. 72b [not in SVF ] cited in F.H. Colson–G.H. Whitaker, Philo, cit., vol. 1, 480. 28 Here Philo seems to allude to Stoic doctrine elaborated by Calcidius (SVF 2.879).

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ated Eve as Adam’s helper. Philo needs to distinguish the secondary and irrational status of aisthesis from mind’s rationality. In order to prepare for that, however, his initial and Platonic (not Stoic) distinction between the rational and irrational features of the soul would have sufficed. The physical categories of hexis and physis (not normally invoked in accounts of Stoic nous or hegemonikon) appear to be quite redundant so far as Philo’s main points are concerned. Nor should they be combined (if Philo had understood their significance in Stoic physics) with the strictly mental faculty of aisthesis. Philo returns to the quartet hexis, physis, psyche and logike psyche in Deus, 35–36 (SVF 2.458 = 47 Q Long-Sedley), but here his allusions to these Stoic concepts have more point. The context is exegesis of Gen 6:5–7, God’s disquiet at human wickedness. Against the plain Biblical statement that God had it in his mind to destroy all human life, Philo insists that God is unchangeable and lives in an eternal present, and therefore cannot be subject to regret. He then proceeds to give a highly strained interpretation of the words “God had it in his mind”, taking this to mean that God eternally has in mind the conditions under which he has created the world. Philo proceeds: As regards bodies, God bound some of them by holding together (hexis), others by growth (physis), others by soul, and others by rational soul. In stones and logs which have been severed from their organic growth, he fashioned hexis, which is the strongest bond. This is breath (pneuma) that turns back towards itself. It begins to extend itself from the centre to the extremities, and having made contact with the outer surfaces it bends back again until it returns to the same place from which it first set out. This continuous double course of hexis is indestructible. The runners at triennial festivals … imitate this and display it as a great, brilliant and competitive exploit.

What is doxographically valuable about this passage is Philo’s description of the alternating centrifugal and centripetal motions of the pneuma constituting hexis.29 Here, moreover, he systematically illustrates the four physical categories in ascending order of complexity—hexis (35–66, as above), physis (37–40), psyche (41–44), and finally rational soul, that he now calls dianoia or nous (45–48).30 29 Elsewhere (Sacr. 68 = SVF 2.453) Philo provides the name “tensile motion” (tonike kinesis) for this hexis activity, and its correctness as Stoic nomenclature is confirmed by Nemesius (SVF 2.451= 47 J Long-Sedley). For discussion of the Stoic doctrine and parallel texts, see S. Sambursky, The Physics of the Stoics (London 1959), 29–33. 30 Note that his treatment of psyche includes an account of phantasia that corresponds

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Philo makes a third reference to Stoic hexis and psyche at QG 2.4, a further text that we owe entirely to Armenian translation (SVF 2. 802 = 47 R Long-Sedley). His exegetical context is God’s command to Noah (Gen 6:14) to tar the ark inside and outside. Philo explains this instruction as a cryptic statement concerning the structure of body and soul! The body, he says, is unified thanks to its own cohesion (clearly a reference to hexis). In an animal or human body, however, that cohesion is not an independent principle but ultimately derived from the creature’s soul: Being at the centre, it moves everywhere, right to the surface, and from the surface it returns to the centre. The result is that a single animate nature is enveloped by a double bond, thus being fitted to a stronger cohesion and union.

Notwithstanding the bizarre context, Philo’s information is an accurate and useful supplement to our understanding of how one of the higher physical principles in Stoicism (the soul) can take on the functions of a lower principle (hexis).31

Stoic physics in De opificio mundi In writing De opificio mundi, Philo drew his principal philosophical inspiration from Plato’s Timaeus. For his understanding of this work he was clearly under the influence of post-Platonic interpretations which had been mediated to some extent by Stoicism or by Stoicizing Platonists such as Antiochus.32 The question I want to ask in this concluding section of my study concerns the extent to which Stoic physics is an important presence in this work, especially if we think of ourselves as collecting the most significant testimonies to early Stoic doctrines. My answer, to anticipate the detailed findings I shall set out, is that Stoicism is a sporadic and largely superficial element of Philo’s work. To put it another way, Philo could have generated the gist of his exegevery closely to the canonical description given at D.L. 7.46 (SVF 2.53). Unfortunately von Arnim gives no cross-references for his excerpt of Philo at SVF 2.458 and D.L. 7.46. 31 54. For a corresponding account of the way soul, moving back and forth, interacts with the body, cf. Hierocl. El. eth. col. 4.38–54 (53 B Long-Sedley). 32 See D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986), G. Reydams-Schils, “Stoicized Readings of Plato’s Timaeus in Philo of Alexandria”, The Studia Philonica Annual 7 (1995), 85–102, and Dillon’s chapter in this volume.

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sis of the Genesis creation narrative if he had never heard of Stoicism. Von Arnim included 10 texts from De opificio mundi, and excerpted 8 of them for his volume 2 that deals with physics. I largely agree with his selection. Most of von Arnim’s excerpts are quite short passages—for instance Stoic definitions of time (section 26 = SVF 2.511) and body (section 36 = SVF 2.358); concatenation of causes (section 28, not in SVF, but cf. SVF 2.920, 962); embryology (section 67 = SVF 2.745); eight parts of the soul (section 117 = SVF 2.833); and phantasia (section 166 = SVF 2.57). More interestingly, Philo says that fruits are “containers of spermatic substances that include the invisible logoi of everything” (section 43 = SVF 2.713). He was presumably influenced, directly or indirectly, by the Stoic concept of spermatikoi logoi. He refers to Adam as the only (true) citizen of the world (section 142 = SVF 3.337), and he may reflect Stoicism in describing fishes as the first creatures to be generated (section 66 = SVF 2.722). He also describes human kinship to God in terms of oikeiosis to divine reason (section 146, not in SVF ). There are two passages that merit more extended discussion. In the work’s preamble (section 3) Philo praises Moses’ creation narrative, saying that, in beginning his account of the law with cosmogony, Moses wants us to understand that the world and the law are in harmony with one another, and that the law-abiding man is a citizen of the world, who directs his actions with a view to nature’s will (pros to boulema tes physeos), according to which the entire world is administered (dioikeitai).

This passage reads like a more or less exact paraphrase of what is probably a verbatim quotation from Chrysippus’s work On Ends: The virtue of the happy man and his good flow of life are just this— doing everything on the basis of the concordance of each man’s guardian spirit with the will of the administrator of the universe.33

I highlight this passage because, unlike most of Philo’s Stoic allusions in De opificio mundi, his way of connecting cosmology with world citizenship and nature’s will involves political and theological ideas that are not to be found in this form in the Timaeus or anywhere else outside official Stoicism. Here, then, at the beginning of his work, wittingly or not, 33 Cited by D.L. 7.87 (SVF 3.4). Von Arnim cites Philo, Opif. 3 very briefly and unemphatically at SVF 3.336 and gives no cross-references to these two passages; boulema (corresponding to boulesis in D.L.) is omitted from the SVF Index volume.

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Philo draws on a most salient and distinctively Stoic doctrine that is cardinal to his theme. Shortly after this passage (sections 8–9 = SVF 2.302) Philo writes: Moses, both because he had attained the pinnacle of philosophy and having been taught nature’s principal and most essential oracles, understood that reality consists, on the one hand, of an active cause, and, on the other hand, of that which is (purely) passive; and that the active principle is the most pure and homogeneous mind of the universe, superior to virtue, superior to knowledge, superior to the Good itself and Beauty itself, while the passive principle, though intrinsically lifeless and inactive, when activated and shaped and animated by mind, changes into the most perfect product, this very world.

Stoic cosmology was grounded on active and passive principles, the former sometimes being termed cause (as here) and the latter matter. However, far from being original to Stoicism, such polar principles started their life in Plato and the Platonic tradition. By Philo’s date, moreover, it had become customary to reduce the complex Timaean scheme of Demiurge, Forms, and Receptacle to just such a two-principle system as Philo assigns to Moses here.34 While Philo’s text echoes Stoic language in some respects, its insistence on the complete transcendence of the active principle, including that principle’s transcendence over the most splendid Platonic Forms, make it unlikely that Philo took himself to be drawing on Stoicism as such. In any case such Stoic resonances as the passage might be taken to give off are quite superficial compared with its fundamentally Platonic tenor, as registered elsewhere, for instance in Philo’s treatment of the “noetic world” of incorporeal beings as God’s logos (section 24, 29–35).

Conclusions No Platonist at Philo’s time could escape the influence of Stoicism both in terminology and doctrine. Thanks to the school’s liking for precise definitions and conceptual refinements, Philo found himself in a philosophical environment that looked to Stoicism as something like a lingua franca. No one would take Plutarch or Plotinus or Alexander of Aphrodisias or Sextus Empiricus to be Stoic sympathizers, but they

34

See Dillon’s chapter in this volume.

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were all unavoidably influenced by Stoic terms and ideas. Was Philo more deeply shaped by Stoicism? I think he probably was, but in ways that were largely episodic and unsystematic. My project in this study was to look at his dissemination and use of Stoic physics. I do not venture to pronounce here on Philo’s incorporation of other parts of Stoic philosophy, but, unlike any of the four philosophers just mentioned, Philo (I take it) did not lay claim to a specific school allegiance. If he had done so, I presume he would have called himself a Platonist, and Plato had learned his philosophy from Moses! Setting aside De aeternitate mundi, I think Philo was a philosophical magpie (as John Dillon has nicely described him to me), stealing from all and sundry, but especially from Plato’s Timaeus and its contemporary interpreters. Could you recreate the essence of Stoic physics simply by studying Philo’s works? You would get a lot of valuable material for sure, but rather little in the way of hexis. That verdict, I presume, would not have disappointed Philo.

PHILO AND STOIC ETHICS. REFLECTIONS ON THE IDEA OF FREEDOM

Roberto Radice 1. Methodological premise The influence of Stoicism on Philo’s moral thought was undoubtedly widespread and deep: otherwise one could not explain how around 80 fragments of Stoic ethics (mostly by Chrysippus), selected by von Arnim in his celebrated work Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta,1 derive from Philo’s works. This influence was not always immediate and direct, but I believe it was in some way filtered by an allegorical tradition that saw its greatest period in Alexandria from Aristobulus onwards, i.e. from the late II century BC to the mid I century AD. Stoicism was the cradle of Greek allegoresis, and so in our case the Stoics supplied not only a considerable part of the philosophical material on which Philo worked, but also the original method of allegorical exegesis, and also concepts and terms sanctioned by allegoresis. Of course, Alexandrian Judaism modified and advanced the effectiveness of allegory to an extraordinary degree, making it exegetically ductile and philosophically fertile. In this sense, understanding the transformation of allegory in the light of Stoic doctrines2 could give us an idea of Alexandrian Judaism’s contribution to the history of philosophical and religious ideas. This prospect has influenced the choice of sources for this brief study, which gives greater attention to allegorical rather than philosophical and erudite treatises3 and those merely expounding the Law,4 as only in the former do we see Philo’s way of working in its authentic form, constantly combining philosophy and exegesis. A further selection cirIn four volumes, Stuttgart 1903–1924, 19642. Which are systematically spiritualised in a Platonic and sometimes Middle-Platonic manner. 3 Such as Quod omnis probus liber sit, De aeternitate mundi, and De providentia. 4 Such as De specialibus legibus, De decalogo, De praemiis et poenis. 1 2

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cumscribed the range of the investigation to the treatise Legum allegoriae, as it deals extensively and specifically with the creation of the world of values and virtues, presenting a complex, but exhaustive, formulation of the terms of Philo’s moral thought in its close relation with theology and anthropology. In this precise context the contribution that Legum allegoriae has made to our knowledge of Stoic ethics is highly significant, indeed it is the most significant of all the treatises.5 Philo, of course, devoted a special treatise to morals, the De virtutibus; but this is not allegorical in nature,6 and its material simply superimposes Mosaic morality on Greek aretology, relating the former to the idea of grace and the imitation of God. The wise man, he observes in Virt. 168 f.: teaches a science wholly suitable to a rational nature,7 imitating God as far as possible … As you have received a power from the Most High, share this power with others, making available what you have in turn received, imitating the God in this benevolence too. The graces of the first Sovereign, graces that he concedes only to some, are to be shared with all …

In a sense the De virtutibus expounds clearly and rather superficially what are the doctrinal contents of Philo’s moral thought, but gives no indication as to its philosophical or scriptural foundations: it provides, as it were, conclusions, but not the thinking and method that have led to them. For this reason its content is not particularly significant for us, although its relation with Stoicism would seem to be quite close. 2. Limits of Stoic influence We began by speaking of Stoic influence on Philo’s moral thinking, but this seems to clash with a fact that is at first sight surprising: the absence of the doctrine of oikeiosis,8 which in a certain sense is the foundation of Stoic morality. For the Stoics, man is not a separate part of the natural At least 11 fragments of Stoic moral thinking derive from this treatise. It is normally included among the works expounding the Law; but cf. the recent conclusions of D. Konstan, “Philo’s De virtutibus, in the Perspective of Classical Greek Philosophy”, The Studia Philonica Annual 18 (2006), 59–72. 7 That is, wholly legitimate from a philosophical point of view: and this explains the reference to Greek thought. 8 Note that the term oikeiosis is by no means unknown to Philo, who uses it on 5 6

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universe, but integral to it, so that what holds for the natural world automatically holds for man too. The Stoic imperative is thus above all that of following nature, which is followed by following God,9 bearing in mind that for these philosophers God, or the logos, is immanent in nature and is indeed one of the ways in which nature is manifest. As there is only one nature, this imperative cannot be reserved for man, but must hold for all living beings, plants and animals included,10 so that even plants and animals have ‘duties’, which means a certain ethic.11 But the being of a plant is not identical with the being of a man, which consists essentially in reason, or in the logos. Now, the logos, Reason, may be the vitalising and constituent force of the whole cosmos, but only in man does it become conscious and aware. That is why man differs from the rest of nature, not ontologically,12 but in that only in man is this natural principle fully realised. This leads to some highly significant philosophical consequences, such as, for example, that virtue is to be conceived as a science; that, apart from virtue, there are duties; that there is nothing higher than wisdom and the wise man; that morality is to be understood internally; and that virtue is in itself the source of happiness, quite apart from the outcome of virtuous actions, and so on. Philo’s point of view is different from the start, because his theological perspective is not pantheistic, but theist and transcendent, and above all based on the revelation of the Bible, which contains, in a special form,13 the moral and civil law as a direct communication14 from God to man. It is thus obvious that Philo’s moral thinking is based on God’s initiative, a grace,15 and is directed exclusively to man. Consequently, the theory of oikeiosis would have no meaning in this case. Now the prototypical form of grace is the creation, as Philo expresses wonderfully in this passage from Legum allegoriae:16 fifteen occasions, but never in the Stoic-philosophical sense, but mainly in the sense of affinity, familiarity, propensity, and often in a political sense too. 9 See, however, Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus in SVF 1.537. We should recognise, though, that at least the ancient Stoics did not over-insist on this formula. 10 Actually the principle of oikeiosis is not directed to the human being as such, but to every living thing. In fact, in SVF 3.182 we read: “As soon as a living being is born it tends to be reconciled with itself ”. The concept is also repeated in SVF 3.183. 11 SVF 1.230. 12 Because everything is really Logos and the logos is everywhere. 13 Usually in the form of an account of a simple narrative. 14 Or in any case perfectly mediated by Moses. 15 It is essentially a theonomic rather than a natural ethic. 16 Leg. 3.78.

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roberto radice Finding grace is not only equivalent, as some think, to being appreciated, but also consists in this: when the just man investigates the nature of beings, he makes this single great discovery, that everything is the grace of God and nothing is in the grace of the created, who possesses nothing, everything being possessed by God, to whom alone, therefore, grace pertains. And to those who seek the origin of the created, one could give the best answer: the goodness and grace of God, which he has lavished on an inferior kind. Gifts, benefits and divine graces are, in fact, all the things in the cosmos and the cosmos itself.

If that is the case, Philo’s moral thought is connected with an original creative act, a supreme grace, analogous to the prototypical creation, which is that of the cosmos. This is, in fact, the content of Legum allegoriae, which we shall now analyse. 3. The relation with De opificio mundi and the change in the model of creation The treatise Legum allegoriae deals with the creation of what we might describe as the ‘ethical cosmos’, symmetrically similar to the previous creation in De opificio mundi, with which our treatise is explicitly connected, not only because the Biblical lemmas interpreted are the same,17 but also because the general theme of the two books is similar, as both deal with the creation. The conceptual tools are also similar, and, in particular, both De opificio mundi and Legum allegoriae speak of 17 Actually, the exegesis of De opificio mundi is developed coherently up to § 147, and from there on, until the end of the treatise (particularly up to § 169, which is followed by the conclusions) Philo simply deals briskly with the episodes of the giving of names (148–150), the creation of woman (§§ 151–152), the Garden of Eden (§§ 153–154) and original sin and its consequences (§§ 155 ff.) with minimal reference to the Biblical texts. It almost seems an addition to complete the description of man formed in Gen 2:7 which gives only a general framework of the interpretation of the episodes following the creation of the cosmos; a framework that Legum allegoriae seeks to fill out. Proof of this might be the lack of an allegorical transposition of Adam and Eve, who are left to their role as human figures (§ 151 ff.) in the literal sense of the Bible: which is decidedly unusual in an allegorical treatise. On relations with Leg. 1, cf. R. Radice, Commentario a De opificio, in C. Kraus Reggiani–R. Radice, Filone d’Alessandria. La filosofia mosaica (Milan 1987), 306, note 31.A; on direct and indirect relations with the Timaeus, cf. M. Baltes, Weltentstehung des platonischen Timaios nach den antiken Interpreten, Teil 1 (Leiden 1976), 204 f.; on the intellectual turn given to Adam’s sin in De opificio, cf. R. Radice in Filone di Alessandria. Tutti i trattati del Commentario allegorico alla Bibbia (Milan 1994), 307 (note 31.C) and A. Mendelson, Encyclical Education in Philo of Alexandria (Chicago 1971), 215.

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dual creation, continual creation, logos, pneuma, powers, and, in general, of a hypostatic conception of God. However, despite these similarities the two exegeses differ from the start and gradually develop on different planes: a) from a philosophical point of view because the Legum allegoriae deals with the creation of the elements of the moral life, which, in the Stoic manner, are above all the gnoseological components, intellect and sensation; b) from an exegetical point of view, because a psychological-ethical level of allegoresis is grafted onto a type of creation that is no longer that of De opificio mundi.18 But let us now examine the origin of this distinction, with a synopsis in tabular form of the comments in De opificio mundi and Legum allegoriae on Gen 2:4: Opif. 129: Gen 2:4 Opif. 129: This is the book of the genesis of heaven and earth, when they came into being … (Gen 2:4–5.) Does this not clearly present the incorporeal and intelligible ideas that are the seals from which things perceivable with our senses received their imprint? Indeed, before the green plant germinated from the earth, that plant existed in nature—he says—and before forage sprouted in the fields, that forage existed, though invisible. [130] So ‘forms and measures’ of all things subject to the judgment of the senses must already have existed, and those that come into existence are formed and adapted to that model. For, even if he has not numbered them one by one, but all together, taking more care than any other for verbal concision, yet the few things he says indicate the whole of nature, which cannot create anything of the sensible world without an incorporeal model.

18

Leg. 1.19 ff. Gen 2:4–5 Leg. 1.19: This is the book of the Genesis of heaven and of earth when it was generated (Gen 2:4.) This perfect Logos that moves according to the number 7 is the origin of the generation of the Idea of intellect and the Idea of sensation, or what I would dare call intelligible sensation. … Leg. 1.21: And on this day God made the heaven, the earth. … (Gen 2:4 f.) Previously Scripture called this day “book, as in both of them God outlined the genesis of heaven and earth: and in fact, through his most stupendous and resplendent logos, God creates both things, the Idea of intellect, which he called symbolically ‘heaven’ and the idea of sensation, which, again symbolically, he called ‘earth’.”

Which we might call ‘protological creation’ as it is the most fundamental.

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From § 21 of Legum allegoriae onwards, Philo reads the Biblical text as if it were speaking of the foundations of human morality. However, we must recognise that Philo does not interrupt the interpretive scheme of the cosmological week of De opificio mundi, which considers the ‘first’ day as the creation of the ideal world (the ideal project of the cosmos), the five other days as the creation of the physical cosmos and of man in His image, and the seventh day as God’s rest. Now, on the seventh day there is the creation of man formed and ‘pneumatic’19 and that seems to contradict the ‘rest’ of which the Bible speaks. Nevertheless, the concept of ‘God’s rest’ should be reconsidered, as here Philo follows a substantially Stoic philosophical vision of God, who cannot be attributed any form of inactivity. In this respect, De opificio mundi 8, corresponding to SVF 2.302, is fundamental. It reads: … it is an absolutely necessary law that in the created world there is an active and a passive cause, and that the former is the intellect of all absolutely pure and uncontaminated … while the passive cause does not have a soul and would be unable to move on its own, but, once it has received movement, form and soul from the intellect it is transformed into this work of wonderful perfection that is the cosmos.

If this principle holds good, the reconstruction held out by De opificio mundi poses a problem because it attributes God with a character that not only does not belong to him, but that would actually betray his nature, both in the (Stoic) philosophical perspective taken over by Philo and in the exegetical perspective, because behind the character of divine activity we could find significant Biblical support in the first words of Genesis: the “o theos epoiesen” that recalls the to poioun or the drasterion aition typical of Stoic physics. The solutio of the problem lies in the recourse to another model of creation that we might call ‘sabbatarian creation’, which has precedents in Alexandrian Judaic allegoresis in Aristobulus, who expresses himself thus in fr. 5,9: God made the whole cosmos … and he allowed us the seventh day to rest. And allegorically the seventh could be called the first day, the genesis of light, and in it all reality can be contemplated with a synthetic gaze.

This passage20 shows an intention not to interrupt the creation on the seventh day, but to introduce another ‘theoretical’ cycle, both spiritual That is, man, who received the breath, the pneuma of God, according to Gen 2:7. Along with others: cf. R. Radice, La filosofia di Aristobulo e i suoi nessi con il De mundo attribuito ad Aristotele, preface by A.P. Bos (Milan 19952), 107 ff. 19 20

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and contemplative. This corresponds exactly to Philo’s plan in Leg. 1.5: “… at first, after concluding the creation of mortal beings, on the seventh day God begins the formation of other beings, those more divine.” Still more eloquent in this connection is the parallel passage in Cher. 87 which expresses synthetically both the Stoic philosophical element (God’s activity) and the Biblical religious element (rest on the Sabbath): And that is why in many passages of his Laws Moses says that the “Sabbath” (which means “rest”) is “of God”, not of men: in this way he touches an essential element of the nature of things (there is only one being who reposes, and that is God), for what he calls repose is not inactivity, as the cause of all things is by nature active and never ceases to perform the most wonderful things, but absolutely effortless activity, performed without suffering, but with the greatest of ease.21

And with this we have found the philosophical roots not only of the fact that there is a creative act at the origin of Philo’s ethics, but also of the fact that there is one creation of sensible realities, and another of suprasensible and ‘divine’ realities. But from the exegetical point of view too—that is, of fidelity to the Biblical story—there is a good justification for this superimposing of (cosmological and moral) allegoresis, above all with reference to the structure of the first chapter of Genesis and the repeating of the three formulae: “God said”, “and it was so”, and “and God saw that it was good”. While the first two formulae introduce the creation of the cosmos on the basis of the concept of creative word, the third associates the ethical and the cosmogonic moment, as connected but distinct. And this, indirectly, authorises that dual exegesis that Philo makes of the creation story. 4. The elements of moral life In this second creative cycle, which is the theme above all of Legum allegoriae, what does God bring to being? Substantially, as we said, the ethical cosmos: the constituent elements of moral action—i.e. the psychic 21 The concept of effortless activity is not incompatible with the Stoic vision of God, the active cause of the world. On the contrary, it is a premise for it, if we bear in mind that the monist vision of the Stoics does not conceive matter as an obstacle to divine action and his immanence in the world places no distance between creature and creature.

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components of man—and the virtues.22 Other subjects are inevitably linked to these concepts, particularly man’s relation to the virtues and sin,23 and also the relation between man and God, after the entry of sin into the world.24 In the first part of Legum allegoriae 1,25 returning to the creation of man formed, Philo returns to the Stoic concept of pneuma, which now, as we shall see, has a religious value new to Stoic thought, though not incompatible with it. In §§ 33 ff. Philo exploits the semantic complexity of the Stoic pneuma, taking in its theological origin26 and its cosmological and anthropological value.27 In anthropology the pneuma has a biological28 and psychic29 value, as well as a noetic30 and a moral value, in that, when it loses tone, it generates the passions31 which have a negative effect on the man’s moral character. In these few paragraphs Philo takes in all these dimensions: a) first, the theological dimension, as God is the source of the pneuma;32 b) secondly, the cosmological and cosmogonic value, with the reference to Gen 1:2:33 “the spirit of God moved on the face of the deep”; c) and d) thirdly and fourthly, the psychic and intellectual dimension present in § 39: The expression “breathes onto his face” has a physical and also an ethical significance—physical because God creates the senses on the face, which is the most animated part of the body, and ethical because, just as the face is the dominant part of the body, so the intellect is the dominant part of the soul.

This is, substantially, the argument of Legum allegoriae, 1. Which is the object of Legum allegoriae, 2. 24 Which is in my view the general object of Legum allegoriae, 3: cf. R. Radice, Allegoria e paradigmi etici in Filone di Alessandria: commentario a Legum allegoriae, preface by C. Kraus Reggiani (Milan 2000), 73 ff. 25 In §§ 1–43, to be precise. 26 On which cf. SVF 2.1033. 27 Cf. SVF 2.473. 28 Cf. SVF 2.446. 29 Cf. SVF 2.716. 30 Cf. SVF 2.443: “the Stoics accept an intelligent pneuma (ennoun) …” and SVF 1.484, where the pneuma is called substance of the “commanding-faculty” of the soul. 31 Cf. SVF 2.877. 32 In § 37: “He who inspires is God”. 33 In § 33, in the creation of day ‘one’. 22 23

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Another Stoic character emerging, in general terms, from these paragraphs is the prevailing role of the intellect in the process of human knowledge,34 and so in morality too.35 According to the Stoics, knowledge starts with sensation and representation36 and develops into the act of assent formulated by the reason on particular sense data. It is this extension of the logos-intellect to the sensible phase37 that Philo has taken up and broadened, seeming actually to involve the intellect in the creation of the soul: God gives the spirit only to the intellect and does not see the need to do the same for the other parts: the senses, language and the reproductive organ. But who inspired these parts? Obviously the intellect: in fact the intellect has transmitted to the irrational part of the soul everything it has received from God …38

But what is not found in any Stoic text is God’s role in the process of knowledge as activator of the cognitive process, for both the senses39 and the intellect. Philo is convinced that to act well man needs not only his psychic elements—sensation, representation and hegemonikon or “commanding-faculty”—but also cognition, a supply of concepts that only God can confer directly with his creating ‘breath’. To be precise, according to Philo40 God

34 In the form of nous or hegemonikon, terms that are very often equivalent. The intellect intervenes in consciousness from the moment of sensation/representation both in Philo (Leg. 1.28: “the intellect irrigates the sensations”) and in the Stoics with the theory of assent. Philo’s psychology draws amply on the Stoics, as we can se also from Post. 127, Deus, 42, on which cf. J.M. Rist, The Use of Stoic Terminology in Philo’s Quod Deus immutabilis sit, 33–50 (Berkeley 1976), 2 ff., and K. Otte, Das Sprachverständnis bei Philo von Alexandrien. Sprache als Mittel der Hermeneutik (Tübingen 1968), 80 f. 35 In fact there are no sharp divisions between psychology, gnoseology and morality in Stoicism, as we can see from SVF 2.848: “if we consider virtues, vices, and also the arts and all memories, and also representations and passions, impulses and expressions of assent”, these are to be found in the “prevailing part of the soul”. 36 Cf. SVF 2.83. 37 SVF 1.61: “Zeno adds to the things seen by the senses and almost accepted by them the consent of the soul, which he regards as inside us and voluntary.” 38 Leg. 1.39. One glimpses here a model of “shared creation” (on which cf. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986) p. 246) that is paralleled— though in another context—in Fug. 68–72, and also in Opif. 72–75. This kind of creation protects God from any relation with sin and the source of sin. 39 Leg. 1.29: “But the intellect would not be able to ‘work’, in the sense of acting on sensation, if God did not dispense and ‘rain down’ the sensible”. The same function of God is expressed in the ethical field, in the case of the virtues, which become effective only if fecundated by God: cf. Cher. 52. 40 In Leg. 1.35.

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roberto radice wants to introduce the foundations of justice. Because if someone who had not received the breath of the true life were punished for the errors he committed, he could say his punishment was unjust, as it is the nonknowledge of good that led him astray in this case, because no knowledge of good was breathed into him.

In short, to be ethically responsible man needs previous knowledge of the values to which he must refer, and this is innate.41 But Philo’s text continues: “He will probably say he has done nothing wrong, if it is true that some claim that involuntary actions or those performed in ignorance do not count as injustices”. This addition means that everyone has the supply of knowledge that is indispensable for gaining virtue. Now, as each man has both the necessary cognitive instruments (intellect, sensation …) and the relevant values (foundations of virtue) one should conclude, on the basis of the dominant intellectualism of Hellenic ethics, that everyone is free of sin. But of course Philo does not believe it42 and so, consciously or not, breaks the tie between knowledge and volition that the Greeks essentially regarded as necessary. 5. Man and the virtues A similar theme, but richer in content, can be found in the passage from § 43 on, which deals with the Garden of Eden and its allegorical meaning. The plantation of the Garden indicates the setting up of earthly wisdom, a copy of heavenly wisdom, in which man’s intellect is placed. Thus, man is at first a dweller in wisdom. This perspective is certainly original, in relation both to Stoic positions and those of all other previous philosophers, as none of them would ever have dared to place man in virtue rather than virtue in man. Philo was drawn into this original idea above all by the exegetical constraint,43 i.e. by the need to bear in mind the development of Genesis

41 Note that this argument leads to a fundamentally optimistic vision of man, of which there are also traces in the Stoics, in SVF 3.214, when they claim that “we are all born to virtue by natural disposition”. On the subject cf. V. Nikiprowetzky, “La doctrine de l’elenchos chez Philon, ses résonances philosophiques et sa portée religieuse”, in Philon d’Alexandrie. Actes du Colloque National, Lyon, 11–15 Septembre 1966 (Paris 1967), 259 n. 3, which refers to many parallel passages in Greek philosophy. 42 See, for example, the figure of the sophist in Leg. 3.232. 43 This felicitous phrase was coined by V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie: son caractère et sa portée. Observations philologiques (Leiden 1977), 7.

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and of the allegory of the Garden (Paradise); but this specific perspective also allowed him to bring out four aspects of particular importance: 1. the fact that the virtues were not the work of man, but man was placed in the midst of them not by his own will or by choice and merit, but through divine grace; 2. the fact that, for the same reason, every man at first is in the Garden; 3. that the moral nature of everyone is based essentially on a choice between conditions already given; 4. and finally the fact that virtue was intended for man, almost as if it were his ideal home, as it was for the first man, who was created when his physical home was ready for him.44 From these premises, the distance between Philo’s general positions and those of Stoic ethics is clear, even though Philo took over many specific ideas from the Stoics. They actually conceived the virtues both as faculties,45 placing them accordingly in the commanding-faculty of the soul,46 and as arts,47 considering them, for this reason, as the result of education, exercise and effort. The first line of thought led them to the concept of virtue as science,48 and so they placed it in man’s inner world,49 contrasting it absolutely with vice.50 The second line of thought (virtue as an art)51 was based on a conception of virtue that was both theoretical and practical, and so not only psychic and cognitive, but somatic too, because it also involved the body for it to be achieved.52 A For an analogy with the Stoics, cf. the already cited SVF 3.214, and for the parallel with the creation according to Gen 1, cf. in particular, Opif. 77: God “wanted man to find everything ready in the world”. 45 Cf. SVF 3.257. 46 Cf. SVF 1.202; 3.459. 47 Cf. SVF 3.202 = Leg. 2.56. 48 Or at least to make science depend on every type of virtue. 49 SVF 3.11: “wisdom has no end outside itself … it is wholly closed up in itself ”. 50 Like truth, which is contrasted with error: cf. SVF 3.657. Philo takes up this argument, but develops it platonically in Leg. 1.103 f. (“to receive and practise virtue only this is necessary: thought. The body not only does not contribute to this aim, but actually impedes it”), on which cf. U. Früchtel, Die kosmologischen Vorstellungen bei Philo von Alexandrien. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Genesisexegese (Leiden 1968), 159. 51 SVF 3.214, and for Philo cf. Leg. 1.57 (= SVF 3.202). Cf. A. Bengio, La dialectique de Dieu et de l’homme chez Platon et chez Philon d’Alexandrie: une approche du concept d’ρετ chez Philon (Diss. Paris 1971), 91; F.W. Kohnke, “Das Bild der echten Münze bei Philon von Alexandria”, Hermes 96 (1968–1969), 589. 52 This idea was also encouraged by the Biblical text, as we can see from the 44

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conception like this legitimates the possibility of moral progress,53 which the first conception did not admit:54 for this reason, in my view, the two aspirations remain essentially irreconcilable in Stoic thought. Philo, by contrast, in the first description of the Garden55 follows the model of De opificio mundi, and speaks of the dual creation of virtue: ideal virtue and earthly virtue. “God, he says in Leg. 1.45, having compassion on our stock, seeing it involved in many and infinite evils, made earthly virtue take root, to succour and care for the diseases of the soul, in imitation … of archetypal, heavenly virtue”.56 And while the latter would seem to be only an object of contemplation, the former is accessible to man so much so that God wants “to exercise our stock to virtue”,57 placing the intellect in Paradise, where each tree represents a particular virtue. In this perspective he seems to get beyond, at least in principle, the aporetic relation between a gradual conception and an alternative to Stoic moral thinking.58 expression “pleasant to the sight, and good to taste” in Gen 2:9 commented by Philo in Leg. 1.58. 53 Cf. SVF 3.217, 226 and on the role of education in reaching virtue SVF 3.225 (“not by nature, but by education moral perfection is reached”). On this theme cf. the recent contribution by G. Roskam, On the Path to Virtue. The Stoic Doctrine of Moral Progress and its Reception in (Middle-)Platonism (Leuven 2005), partic. 152 ff., which deals with the subject exhaustively. 54 SVF 3.530 is particularly eloquent on this: “As he who is submerged in water cannot breathe, whether he is almost at the surface and about to emerge, or he is in its depths … so the man who has made significant progress in the direction of virtue is no less wretched than he who had made no progress …” 55 Leg. 1.43–62. 56 Philo does not always take the same view of the relation between general and specific virtues. For example, in De cherubim he considers the general virtues as incorruptible (as, we read in §§ 5 and 43, “every genus is incorruptible” and these virtues “are not the lot of a mortal man”) and so like the Platonic Idea of Virtue; by the same reasoning, specific virtues are corruptible “because the place that receives them is the corruptible self ”. By contrast, in Sacr. 84 the difference between general and specific virtues is not ontological, but merely logical. This position seems more faithful to the Stoic conception, although Kohnke (“Das Bild der echten Münze bei Philon von Alexandria”, cit., 589 f.) rightly points out that the ‘Platonic’ relation between general and particular Ideas is also to be found in the Middle-Platonist Eudorus, who might be the intermediary source between the Stoics and Philo. Overall in the treatises of the tetralogy of Cain there seems to be a stratification of virtues with the civic virtues at the lowest level (Sacr. 78), followed by the cathartic virtues, and then the archetypal virtues that reside in the divine Logos; cf. Det. 160, Cher. 49; Post. 29. 57 Leg. 1.47. 58 Philo certainly gets beyond it in the ethical type represented by the Patriarchs: Isaac, for example (cf. G. Roskam, On the Path to Virtue, cit., 186 ff.) would seem to

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6. The structure of the Garden In some respects the structure of the Garden too is well adapted to Stoic aretology—which professed a vision59 of virtue that was both unified and various—because, in drawings too, it depicts various virtuetrees in the single enclosure of wisdom. And just as the Stoics distinguished primary from subordinate virtues,60 Philo too61 interprets the various trees in the Garden in the light of this principle. However, respecting the narration of Genesis soon forced him (at §§ 63–89) to redraw the topography of the Garden, following the allegory of the rivers of Eden.62 The transformation followed the plan below:63 Leg. 1.43–62 Trees of the Garden

Leg. 1.63–87 Rivers of Eden

general virtue

§ 59: tree of life from which the particular virtues derive

= large rivers from which the particular virtues derive

particular virtues

§ 56 trees of the Garden

the four rivers (Pison, Geon, Tigris, Euphrates) and also the Garden

virtue (without further specifications)

§ 45 Garden

lacking

goodness

59 tree of life (= general virtue)

the large river (= general virtue)

earthly wisdom

plantation of the Garden

lacking

divine wisdom

unlocalised

= Eden

bliss

§ 45 Eden

Eden (but it implicitly corresponds to divine Wisdom)

express a similar model for the first Stoic type, while Abraham, being a migrant, conforms to the Stoic type of one who is making progress. 59 And sometimes unique, as in the case of Aristo, SVF 1.373. 60 SVF 3.264. 61 Corresponding to SVF 3.263. 62 On the subject cf. D.N. Jastram, Philo’s Concept of Generic Virtue (Atlanta 1991), 323– 347. 63 Cf. R. Radice, Allegoria e paradigmi etici in Filone d’Alessandria, cit., 152.

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The difference between the two versions, apart from some differences in the classification of the symbols, lies in the fact that the second—which is the most common in Philo—is able to relate the individual virtues to each other, transforming the metaphor of the confluence and influx of the rivers into a relation of dependence and derivation of the virtues. The symbology of Eden is so dual because on the one hand it seems static and disjointed, each tree representing a virtue autonomously, and on the other it gives a dynamic and organic representation of it that emphasises relations. But in any case the structure of Stoic aretology is safeguarded, even though with some Platonic influences, and with the underlying idea, certainly Biblical, that the Garden and the virtue-trees that it contains are the work of God.64 The diagram below65 illustrates in simplified form Philo’s relations with the Stoics and Plato: Leg. 1.65 (= SVF 3. 263)

SVF 3.262

Plato, Resp. 4 speaks of sophia and not phronesis

A

wisdom

concerns action and sets limits to it (Leg. 1.70)

knowledge of what we should do

B

temperance

sets limits on desires

knowledge of what is is order (kosmos) desirable (SVF 3.255) and mastery of pleasures and desires (430e)

C

justice

sets limits on knowledge that can the goods to be assign each person distributed (Leg. 1.87) his deserts (cf. too 3.255 and 264)

is harmony of the other virtues and the full and ordered development of each (433d–435c)

64 Cf. M.J. Fiedler, “Δικαιοσ6νη in der diaspora-jüdischen und intertestamentarischen Literatur”, Journal for the Study of Judaism 1–3 (1970–1972), 124 ff., M. Pohlenz, “Philo von Alexandreia”, Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen 5 (1942), 468; and on the prevalence of the Stoic model in this connection, cf. J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London 1977, 19962), 7 and 149 and S. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria. A Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism (Oxford 1971), 75 ff.; H.A. Wolfson, Philo. Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam (Cambridge 1947, 19622), vol. 1, 258 ff.; U. Früchtel, Die kosmologischen Vorstellungen, cit., 177 f. But there may be a Biblical basis for the priority given to eusebeia: cf. G.E. Sterling, “The Queen of the Virtues: Piety in Philo of Alexandria”, The Studia Philonica Annual 18 (2006), 103–123. 65 R. Radice, Allegoria, cit., 154; cf. C.-J. Classen, “Der platonisch-stoische Kanon der Kardinaltugenden bei Philon, Clemens Alexandrinus und Origenes”, in A.M. Ritter (ed.), Kerygma und Logos. Beiträge zu den geistesgeschichtlichen Beziehungen zwischen Antike und Christentum. Festschrift für C. Andresen zum 70. Geburtstag (Göttingen 1979), 68 ff.

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strength

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Leg. 1.65 (= SVF 3. 263)

SVF 3.262

Plato, Resp. 4

sets limits on the risks that should be faced (Leg. 1.68; Spec. 4.145)

knowledge of what is to be feared; strength to endure SVF 3.264

Confirms our opinion on what is to be feared (429b–c)

7. The problem of sin The problem that Philo tackles from § 88 on is no longer that of the topology of Eden and the number of virtues and the relation that binds them, but the nature of the person inhabiting the Garden. This question is linked in turn to a difference in the text of Genesis between 2:8 and 2:15; the former reads that God introduced to the Garden “the man whom he had formed” and the latter “the man whom he had created”. At this point in the treatise the two figures already carry stable allegorical meanings,66 clearly distinguished and more or less mutually exclusive. It means that God introduces not one but two types of man into Paradise, with different characteristics that are in a certain sense more and more antithetical: one the symbol of the “more terrestrial” intellect, the other of the “more immaterial” intellect.67 In a later passage, while the more immaterial intellect takes on the characteristics of man “in God’s image and in accordance with the Idea”, which “already contains virtue”68 and so has every right to be in Paradise, the more terrestrial intellect is identified with Adam and so is associated with the negative value of the Biblical Adam.69 Like Adam, terrestrial intellect is originally “neither foolish nor virtuous, but whose nature is in between”, otherwise God could not have introduced it to Paradise.

Acquired largely in Opif. 69 ff.; 134 ff. Leg. 1.53: B.A. Pearson, Philo and the Gnostics on Man and Salvation (Berkeley 1977), 31 (Mack’s reply). 68 Leg. 1.92–94, J.B. Schaller, Gen. 1.2 im antiken Judentum (Untersuchungen über Verwendung und Deutung der Schöpfungsaussagen von Gen. 1.2 in antiken Judentum) (Diss. Göttingen 1961) passim, for the analogies in ethics between man in God’s image and the Stoic wise man. 69 Leg. 1.90, on which B.A. Pearson, “Hellenistic and Jewish Wisdom Speculation and Paul” in R.L. Wilken (ed.), Aspects of Wisdom in Judaism and Early Christianity (Notre Dame–London 1975), 52 ff. and R.A. Horsley, “Pneumatikos vs Psychikos. Distinctions of Spirituals Status among the Corinthians”, Harvard Theological Review 69 (1976), 281. 66 67

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At this point of the allegory the problem of the origin of sin arises, but before facing it, we also need to refer to the overall sense that the allegory has so far: according to Philo’s perspective, each man has at first a place in Paradise,70 so if it is not necessary for man to win Paradise, which is God’s grace and gift, he can still accept it or lose it.71 Such a conception is extraordinarily distant from the Greek way of thinking and is obviously Biblical in origin, but in Philo it can be linked to the doctrine of the divine breath as communication of ethical values, and, through this doctrine, can be connected with Stoic ethics, in particular to the theory of the koinai ennoiai, “the most important criteria of truth that we have in nature”,72 a sure guide towards the truth,73 and also the foundation “of the beautiful, the ugly, the just and the unjust”:74 a foundation that is not only available to all men, but that no one can completely lose.75 So, Paradise’s original availability for everyone may depend on the universality of moral ‘common notions’. But how can the man-Adam choose evil in a Paradise where everything is virtue and all the virtues are ‘planted’ directly by God with a view to man’s good? Actually, if we consider the nature of Eden, we note that there is a special tree in it, that of the knowledge of good and evil. This tree, strictly speaking, cannot be considered a symbol of a virtue like the others, but is to be understood as the tree of freedom, which becomes virtue only when virtue is chosen, but can also become vice if the choice falls on vice. In that this plant offers the possibility of virtue, it has the right to be in Paradise,76 but in that it is open to the possibility of vice,77 it is outside it. The sequel of the Biblical story, with Adam’s sin, shows precisely this second possibility. The initial problem remains, however; how can the Bible place in the Garden a ‘non-virtue’—a tree—among the various virtues, and how can it be the origin of a vice, while not being a vice in itself ? Philo’s 70 As in gnoseological domain, he has a priori the knowledge necessary to practise virtue. 71 That is why, despite the premises, Philo does not allow himself to be optimistic about the human condition in the concrete: in the history of man, good is for him a rare event (cf. G. Roskam, On the Path to Virtue, cit., 207), even though it was originally conceded by God to every man. 72 SVF 2.473. 73 SVF 2.964. 74 SVF 3.218. 75 Ibidem. 76 Leg. 1.61 = tree of life. 77 Leg. 1.62.

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solution is particularly elaborate. Basing himself on the exegesis of Gen 2:17, he can deduce that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is not in the Garden. This is not a contradiction in Scripture, which first claims it is there and then denies it, but the symbolic expression of a sophisticated philosophical argument that Philo expounds in Leg. 1.100, as follows: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, “thou shalt not eat of it” (Gen 2:17). So, this tree is not in the Garden. If God commands them to eat of every tree that is in the Garden and then tells them not to eat of this tree, we must conclude that this tree is not in the Garden. As I have already said, [the tree we are discussing] is physically in the Garden, but not potentially (ousia ouk dunamei). Just as all impressions are potentially in the wax, but actually there is only that which has been impressed there, so in the soul, which is malleable like wax, all impressions are included potentially (dunamei), but not actually: in fact only one form prevails in its, the one impressed, at least until it is cancelled by another form imprinted more clearly and evidently.

This passage, which repeats §§ 59–60,78 essentially puts the tree of knowledge on the level of a potential reality, which takes on its characteristic of vice or virtue according to man’s choice: in this way it is not inside the Garden in an absolute sense (it is not a virtue), but only insofar as it can be the object of virtue, should Adam choose Good; as Adam did not make this choice it is effectively outside the Garden. The same problem of dual location—inside and outside the Garden—is expressed in the allegory of the two men, man created in God’s image, and the terrestrial man formed—Adam. Adam is in Paradise because in his original condition—one might say, as he left the Creator’s hands—he is neither foolish nor virtuous:79 the proof is that God proposes precepts and prohibitions, for if he had been perfect or irremediably wicked, he would have had no need of them. In this case Philo resorts to the Stoic ethical typology rearranged in an allegorical form based on Gen 2:16–17. In the most relevant text, taken from Legum allegoriae,80 Philo offers three different attitudes of God towards man, which essentially correspond to three kinds of man, each compatible with the ethical typology 78 In particular, Leg. 1.60, where it is claimed that “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is in the Garden substantially, but outside it potentially”. Cf. R. Radice, Allegoria, cit., 149 ff. 79 Leg. 1.95. 80 Leg. 1.92 ff.

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of the Stoics: a) man in God’s image, whom, says Philo, “it is not necessary to command or forbid” because he incarnates the law totally and perfectly. This figure recalls that of the Stoic wise man, for example in SVF 3.325: “… right reason … imperiously recalls us to duty and with its prohibitions dissuades us from error. But the law does not give orders and prohibitions to the wise man because they would be useless”; b) the fool, whom, we learn in SVF 3.325, the law’s prohibition and commands “cannot move”; c) the nature in between, “neither foolish nor virtuous”, which might recall the infant’s intellect in SVF 3.537,81 and which, “lacking reason, will be neither vicious nor virtuous nor in an intermediary state between the two…” Philo makes clear that “this, without teaching, could not follow wisdom”.82 Thus every kind of man, through God’s grace, is originally in Paradise: but staying there depends on him and the choice he makes. 8. Human freedom in the Stoics As is generally known, the Stoics asserted the omnipotence of fate,83 which is defined as the generating principle “from which everything derives and to which everything is subjected”.84 However the Stoics, Chrysippus in particular, were aware of the aporia that determinism created in relation to ethics, it being extremely difficult to fix moral ends in a physical context that does not allow any free choice. Cicero’s words are to be understood in this sense:85 Given two doctrines of the ancient philosophers—one sustained by those who regard everything as the work of fate, which would involve the force of necessity, the other by those who believe that the movements of the spirit are voluntary and free of fate—Chrysippus, in the role of honorary judge, seems to have wanted to strike a middle course, even though his preference goes to those who would like to free psychic acts of necessity, and yet he trips over some difficulties in his discourses, so that, even against his will he finds himself forced to confirm the existence of a necessary fate.

81 82 83 84 85

And in Philo, Adam’s intellect. Leg. 1.92. Heimarmene: cf. SVF 2.1000. SVF 1.87. In SVF 2.974.

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But what would be the form of Chrysippus’ attempt86 to save human choice, and particularly assent, from the necessity of fate?87 It would be the claim that heimarmene does not eliminate the contingency of certain events, which may not be necessary in themselves although they are part of a necessary chain of events.88 A certain number of fragments take this line: “If everything is determined by fate, this does not eliminate the sphere of the possible and contingent …”,89 “… what is predestined, however ineluctable it is, does not therefore happen of necessity, because for them (scil. the Stoics) the contrary could happen as well”;90 only those things “whose contrary is impossible” happen by destiny;91 “some admit that everything happens by fate, but at the same time that nothing happens by compulsion …”92 But this series of arguments, although rigorous, is seriously weakened by the fact that, for the Stoics, the world always repeats itself in the same way, and so, therefore, does human choice. Zeno says in SVF 1.109: Socrates and Plato will return again, and so will all men: they will have the same friends and fellow-citizens, the same convictions, the same business and duties. Every city, village and field will have the same form as before.

So human choice may be free and contingent, but it is repeated in identical form, as if it were necessary. As I said, this Stoic argument seems to me weak but not wholly unfounded. The chain of causes proposed by the Stoics may be necessary but contains non-necessary and contingent causes. One need only take the sequence of events in human history, if one thinks of it as ruled by an ineluctable providence. The necessity would emerge only in an overall vision at universal level, while each individual, who would not have this vision, would have various possible options open, each of them feasible for him.93 However, once the choice had been made, it would become part of a necessary 86

Although, as Cicero says, only partly successful. SVF 2.974. 88 Necessity is thus in the sequence of facts and not in the individual facts. 89 SVF 2.958. 90 SVF 2.960. 91 SVF 2.1007. 92 SVF 2.962. The same general line can also be found in SVF 2.998. 93 This is the advocated freedom of consent (SVF 2.974 and ff.). But we should note that ‘necessary’ and ‘contingent’ in this argument have value at different levels of consideration. 87

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chain of causes and therefore necessary itself. The fact that individual vicissitudes are repeated in identical form in every cosmic cycle does not cancel their contingent character, but would merely give rise to an improbable sequence. But, as well as this line of argument, which does not seem to leave much room for human freedom, the Stoics had another that, independently of the former, essentially reduced freedom to acting in accordance with one’s nature. This is the thesis that Alexander of Aphrodisias expounds with great clarity in SVF 2.1006: With the first arguments94 we succeeded in proving that, even if it is demonstrated that the impulsive movement95 of living beings is compatible with a universe governed by fate, this does not save individual freedom, unless we merely want to claim that what a body does in accordance with its nature is its freedom.

This conception of freedom96 seems to prevail over the former,97 and is generally more compatible with the general tendency of Stoic thought. Fr. 1000, with its famous example of the cylinder, is a clear illustration of this: If you launch a stone cylinder along a sloping and rough terrain, you will be the origin and cause of its descent, but it at once rolls downhill, not because you are the cause, but because its form and the way it is made mean that it has in itself a predisposition to roll. Well, in the same way the rational and necessary order of fate sets off causes, but then it is the will and natural character of souls that take control of the impulses that derive from our decisions and our mind and our actions.

The definition of freedom implicit here is the equivalent of a lack of constraints and the possibility for each being to freely express its nature: it is essentially a ‘freedom from’, rather than a ‘freedom to’.98 However, we should note that the two types of freedom—acting as one wishes and following one’s nature—are synthesised in the figure of the wise man,99 whose ‘wishes’ coincide with nature’s law (i.e. the necessity of fate), by which the individual point of view coincides with the universal one. That is why our Stoics can proclaim both the wise Those expressed in frr. 958 ff. Freedom, according to Chrysippus, lies as much in assent as in impulse, because the latter “also happens in forms contrary to reason”, cf. SVF 2.981. 96 That is, freedom is acting according to one’s nature, without constraints. 97 That is, on the freedom to “act as one wishes” (SVF 3.355). 98 Freedom linked to the contingent, as in SVF 3.355. 99 SVF 3.361. 94 95

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man’s omnipotence100 and his absolute freedom,101 because he does and obtains what he wants, and also fully achieves his nature and his logos; nor does he suffer constraints from any law102 or obstacles from any negative event.103 In addition, as the wise man’s will is in accordance with the logos, it loses its individual character and thus becomes in some way necessary. That is why the Stoics can claim that the wise man never errs104 or meets adversities,105 is above human affairs,106 and is in a stable condition of wisdom.107 9. Freedom in Philo What is outlined in the preceding paragraphs has an important philosophical meaning that requires some general considerations. In the allegory of Eden Philo is intent on illustrating a condition, spiritual in nature and ideal and universal in character, that does not only involve the responsibility of the prototypical man, Adam, but all his successors, and so represents the human condition, both absolutely and specifically. Thus, Philo’s allegory authorises us to believe that in his ideal world there is room for an alternative to evil, and therefore the conditions for an act of freedom. This conviction is consolidated on the basis of Leg. 2.32–33: It is like this: if I were able to change the direction of my intellect whenever I want, I would do it, and when I didn’t want to, I’d remain fixed in my ideas. But now a change of direction is forced on me and often, wanting to think of something seemly, I am swamped with unbecoming thoughts. In the same way, when something filthy enters my mind, pure thoughts flood into my mind: it is, of course, God who, by his grace, pours fresh water on the brackish waters of the soul. So, no created being can avoid changing direction, because it is part of his nature, just as it is part of God’s nature not to change his ideas. But some have remained in this new outlook, once they have changed

100 SVF 3.356: “everything that the wise man wants to do, he can do”, as he wants what ineluctable fate wants. 101 SVF 3.356, 361. 102 SVF 3.325. 103 “Nothing happens to him but what he wants”, 3.572. 104 SVF 3.498. 105 SVF 3.564. 106 SVF 3.600. 107 SVF 3.263.

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There is nothing naïve or simplistic about Philo’s reconstruction of the human psyche, which allows for external conditioning, temptation, and also the deep-seated drives that sometimes escape our control. Nor does Philo ignore the possibility of a direct and benevolent inspiration from God that can direct the course of our thoughts in the right direction. All these drives have a certain effect on us and so “no created being can avoid changing direction”. In any case, it is in his power to right himself after an aberration, or allow himself to be directed by events. And this involves a condition of freedom, not absolute but fragile,108 such as “our mortal state imposes”. This kind of freedom, not exclusively linked to knowledge, is a considerable philosophical advance over Hellenistic philosophy: it derives, indeed, from the Bible, to be precise from the fact that the Bible depicts the first man not as ignorant,109 but as a sinner, and so, in the end, as a free being. Nevertheless, the problem of freedom in Philo is more complex than what emerges from this mainly exegetical text, partly because in this case too he recurs constantly to Stoic philosophy, which takes up complex and detailed positions on the subject, as we have seen in the preceding paragraph. We should recognise that in general terms Philo shares the doctrine of heimarmene 110 with the Stoics, but that it seems less important to him.111 A significant contribution to this theme comes from the Chaldeans and the mentality that they represent. In Migr. 178–179112 we read: …The Chaldeans connect terrestrial phenomena with those of the heavens, and heavenly phenomena with those that concern the surface of the earth. In this way they have shown through musical relations the per108 Cf. D. Winston, Freedom and Determinism in Philo of Alexandria (Berkeley 1976), 8 ff. on which R. Radice, Allegoria, cit., 319; H.A. Wolfson, Philo, cit., 425 ff., D.A. Carson, “Divine Sovereignty and Human Responsibility in Philo. Analysis and Method”, Novum Testamentum 23 (1981), 148 ff.; A. Orbe, “El dilema entre la vida y la muerte (exegesis prenicena de Deut. 30, 15.19)”, Gregorianum 51 (1970) 309 ff. 109 If only because the pneuma of intelligence is shared by all, and also because Philo in Leg. 2.15 seems to accept the view of the intellectual superiority of the first men. 110 Her. 301 ff. 111 On this subject cf. M. Dragona Monachou, “The Problem of Evil in Philo of Alexandria, with Special Reference to the De providentia”, Philosophia 5–6 (1975–1976), 306–352. 112 Corresponding to SVF 2.532.

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fect harmony of everything, in accordance with the principle of mutual communion (pros allela koinonia) and sympathy (sumpatheia) of the parts, which may be separated spatially, but certainly are not in their essential affinity. They have conjectured that our phenomenal cosmos is the only being that really exists, or that it is God, or includes God in it, understood as the soul of all things, and, in doing so, make fate and necessity divine …

This doctrine is condemned by Philo above all for the excessive importance it gave to the practice of astronomy and astrology, based on the notion of a connection between terrestrial, heavenly and atmospheric phenomena, culminating in the doctrine of cosmic sympathy, which is expressed in a universal numerical harmony.113 In this way they were induced to conceive the cosmos as ‘unified’ (i.e. as a cosmos-whole), including in itself every kind of reality, so as not to leave room for a transcendent God. From these premises it necessarily follows that God is the cosmos, or that God is in the cosmos: in any case, the result is a form of pantheism. From an ethical and anthropological viewpoint, pantheism leads naturally to fatalism and astral determinism,114 which, according to Migr. 179, are serious forms of impiety. At this point the whole philosophical system of the Chaldeans (which is prevailingly Stoic) would seem to be condemned, along with the Stoic thinking that supports it. But no, because when Philo (at Migr. 180)115 compares his theology with that of the Chaldeans, he shows he accepts the principle of communion and cosmic sympathy and simply confutes the Chaldean doctrine of God as pantheist, claiming that “neither the world nor the soul of the world” is pre-eminently God, but that everything is held together by divine powers, while God himself occupies a transcendent position. At this point it is as if Philo counterpoised two forms of Sto-

Migr. 178. A certain attenuation of the condemnation of the Chaldeans seems to come in Opif. 58 ff. which admits the influx of the stars on terrestrial phenomena, including the aim of “revealing the signs of the future”. However, shortly after, Philo explains the sense of this expression, and we can see that he is speaking only of astronomical, atmospheric and, possibly, geological phenomena such as earthquakes. The error of the Chaldeans was that of extending this astral influence to human history, “to the misfortune … or fortune of men” (Migr. 190). 115 “… Moses seems to have underwritten the doctrine of communion and sympathy between the parts of the universe … but distanced himself from their conception of God”. 113 114

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icism, one, more rigorous116 that goes under the name of the Chaldeans, and the other authentic one of Moses. The essential difference between the two seems to be the transcendent position of God, which implies that God is exempt from the law of heimarmene: “God, observes Philo, is free will, the created is necessity”.117 As man is in God’s image, and receives the divine pneuma, it is legitimate to deduce that in his moral choice he too is exempt from the necessity of events by which fate and necessity are not the “cause of everything that happens”.118 This is the view that Philo expresses clearly in Deus, 45–47: Man had had the fortune to have the exceptional prerogative of intelligence, which customarily understands the nature of everything, bodies and things … This aspect of the soul was not formed with the same elements with which the others were completed, but had the fortune to receive a purer and nobler substance … so that it is natural that intelligence was believed to be the only incorruptible thing in us. It alone was judged by the Father who created us as worthy of freedom, and, when the bonds of necessity were loosed, left it free, giving it the part that it could receive of what belongs to him most specifically and properly, free will (tou ekousiou). The other animals, in whose souls there is no distinct element of freedom and intellect, are yoked and tamed in the service of man, consigned to him as servants to their masters, while man, with the good fortune to have a conscience that acts voluntarily and that is determined of its own accord, and being able to take part in activities mainly founded on free choice, is naturally blamed for the bad actions to commits deliberately, and is praised for the good actions he performs of his own free will.

This philosophically significant passage shows how Philo, above all when he starts from the exegesis of the Bible, rather than from a particular philosophical argument, overcame ethical intellectualism, creating a hierarchy of living creatures not only on the basis of their level of intelligence, but on their degree of freedom in relation to the necessity of the physical world. 116 We should note that the Stoics believed firmly in divination (SVF 2.187 ff.), and so in their view “everything could be foreseen” (SVF 2.930). And if they did not believe explicitly in astrology (“the Stoics did not give the name of fate to the disposition of the stars at the moment of birth …” SVF 2.932), it was because they regarded the stars themselves as subjected “to the series of connections of universal causes” (Ibidem). 117 Somn. 2.253; cf. also QG 3.13. This conception may not overturn the Stoic nature of the argument and its convergence in the logos, but it profoundly modifies it (G. Roskam, On the Path to Virtue, cit., 208): the Biblical God is simply superimposed on the logos, and the latter is no longer first principle but a power subordinate to God. 118 Cf. Her. 300.

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10. Conclusions We can now go back to the great allegory of Eden described in Legum allegoriae, its philosophical meaning and the aporia that it expressed, which was focused in the figure of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil119 and its presence in Paradise. The problem was expressed in this simple question: if man is in Paradise, and in Paradise there are trees (virtues) planted by God, how can Adam choose evil? Philo’s first response, in the first book of Legum allegoriae, is that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was not in Paradise at all120 or was there only “substantially”—i.e. “for what it was”—and not “potentially”, i.e. “for what it would become after Adam’s choice”.121 But though an answer of this kind can exclude the presence of evil it cannot exclude the possibility of evil, and so, in the end, it does not guarantee God’s absolute goodness. However, Philo returns to the subject in Leg. 2.14 ff., where he interprets Gen 2:19 on Adam’s naming of things. Philo’s exegesis centres on the expression “what he [Adam] would call” the things he brought to him, where the Biblical expression is taken in the sense of “with what inner attitude Adam would accept the things that were shown to him”: perhaps just because he could not help it, as mortal kind is necessarily yoked to passions and vices, or perhaps because of his measureless, unlimited cravings? Or perhaps for the needs connected to “terrestrial” nature, or for having judged these things as the supreme and wonderful being?122

From a philosophical viewpoint the passage is of great value as it shifts moral responsibility from ‘things’ to ‘man’: things in themselves, Philo is saying, are good—and so God’s work is faultless—but the order of value by which God created them—which is also faultless—can be culpably altered by man: and the sin lies there. However, we can find in Philo’s thought a reason still more profound, based on the origin of sin, as expressed in Sacr. 2:

119

Which could be understood philosophically as a principle of freedom. Leg. 1.100. 121 Which is the equivalent of: “… there both is and is not evil in the Garden: it can be there actually, but cannot be there potentially”, Leg. 1.62. 122 Leg. 2.16. 120

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roberto radice … it happens that there are two opposite conceptions, contrasting with each other: one ascribes everything to the intellect as the supreme guide of reason and perception, of being in movement or remaining still; the other follows God because it recognises itself as his creature. Cain is an example of the former, and he is called Possession, because he thinks he possesses everything, while Abel is an example of the latter, and his name means “one who brings back to God”.

The principle of philautia (egoism) is thus what transforms the perfect universe of Paradise into a source of sin, both altering the axiological order of things and attributing to it what is really the work of God. Like any ethical principle, it also has a psychological genesis, which is well illustrated in Cher. 64, where we read that … the intellect, having bound to itself the capacity to feel sensations and having captured through this every corporeal form, was filled with irrational pride and swelled up to the point of believing that all things were its property and that nothing belonged to anyone else.

It is as if the sudden extension of knowledge coming from sensation had made the intellect lose its sense of limits and moderation. If this is Philo’s position, the Stoic view is analogous in some respects. Both regarded man as being in a perfect cosmos,123 because it is made, directed and sustained directly by divine Providence. Yet, Stoic man too has to deal with evil and error, whose metaphysical origin is quite problematic. What, indeed, can be the source of evil if everything is ineluctably subject to the principle of the logos?124 In this case too the cause cannot be blamed on reality, as if there were an objective evil, but must be attributed to man in the form of a subjective evil. A further simplification of this problem in the two contexts examined, on the basis of the concepts expressed earlier, would lead to a striking synthesis of the whole theme of freedom. For the Stoics the origin of error consists in a partialising process that extrapolates the specific or contingent fact or act from the complex of events and things. This, so to speak, distorts the rational order and casts the individual responsible into a condition of error, in the absence of rule, i.e. into passion.125 But at this point Philo’s philautia is a culpable reaction to the specific

123

And for this reason it corresponds to Philo’s Eden. To put the problem in Philo’s terms we might say that for the Stoics too man at first was forced to live in Paradise. 125 The same passion alluded to in Leg. 2.16. 124

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and individual,126 which interrupts the tie with the Father and avoids the service due to him, of which, says Philo in Sacr. 120, Levi is the symbol.

126 It is indeed a form of egoism; cf. W. Warnach, “Selbstliebe und Gottesliebe im Denken Philos von Alexandrien”, in H. Feld–J. Nolte (eds.), Wort Gottes in der Zeit. Festschrift für K.H. Schelkle (Düsseldorf 1973), 198 ff.

PHILO OF ALEXANDRIA ON STOIC AND PLATONIST PSYCHO-PHYSIOLOGY: THE SOCRATIC HIGHER GROUND*

Gretchen Reydams-Schils But he in whom the divine words of wisdom and virtue dwell, even though he may be more deformed of body than Silenus, is necessarily fair. Philo, Quaestiones et Solutiones in Genesin 4.99, trans. Marcus

A considerable number of Stoic fragments in von Arnim’s collection come from Philo of Alexandria. But the scholarly debate over whether Philo should be considered a Stoic or a Platonist has been going strong since Lipsius, in the seventeenth century.1 It could be fruitful in approaching this issue to consider how the Platonist and Stoic features of his work actually relate to each other. I explore which psychological * This article is reprinted with minor corrections from Ancient Philosophy, vol. 22, 1 (2002), 125–147. 1 B. Desbordes, “Un exemple d’utilisation de la philosophie. La stratégie du recours à la thèse des lieux naturels”, in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le langage de la philosophie (Turnhout 1998), 393–448. For a good overview of the debate, see V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie: son caractère et sa portée. Observations philologiques (Leiden 1977), 12. See, e.g., E. Turowski, Die Widerspiegelung des stoischen Systems bei Philon von Alexandrien (Leipzig 1927); W. Völker, Fortschritt und Vollendung bei Philon von Alexandrien. Eine Studie zur Geschichte der Frömmigkeit (Leipzig 1938), 126; contra E. Bréhier, Les idées philosophiques et religieuses de Philon d’Alexandrie (Paris 1908, 19252), 253. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986), established the view that Plato’s works, and particularly the Timaeus, occupy a pivotal position in Philo’s allegorical reading of Scripture. R. Radice, “Observations on the Theory of the Ideas as the Thoughts of God in Philo of Alexandria”, in D.M. Hay–D.T. Runia–D. Winston (eds.), Heirs of the Septuagint. Philo, Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity, in The Studia Philonica Annual 3 (1991), 126, admits that the Stoic influences outnumber the Platonist ones, but claims that the latter are more fundamental; J. Mansfeld, “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture: Philo’s Exegetical Strategies”, in J. Dillon–A.A. Long (eds.), The Question of ‘Eclecticism’. Studies in Later Greek Philosophy (Berkeley 1988), 77, emphasizes that some texts of Philo are really more Stoic than anything else, whereas J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London 1977, 19962), 142–143, has highlighted how Philo’s method might have been inspired by Stoic allegorical readings of Homer. For more references, see notes below.

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model Philo prefers in his analysis of rational behaviour and the passions. It turns out that the two strands of influences, the Platonist and the Stoic, are balanced because they have been subsumed under Philo’s larger purpose. This investigation helps us to understand Philo and his period better. Given that Philo’s main frame of reference is Hebrew Scripture, in the Septuagint translation, he is a special case among those we rank under Middle-Platonism, but he incorporates an impressive amount of philosophical material.2 Our knowledge of Middle-Platonism is hampered by the fragmentary state of many texts, and the loss of others, but on the soul-body issue, which is a prominent theme of the period, Philo supplies an unusually rich articulation of the range of possibilities. This evidence is a crucial missing chapter in current research on ancient theories about the mind-body problem, and its connection to theories about the passions.3 Because of its very complex nature Philo’s work poses great difficulties. In addition to providing an interpretation, this article aims to make the material more widely accessible, in a contextsensitive analysis. Contributing to the complexity of Philo’s stance on psychology is the combination of a mildly skeptical attitude with the hermeneutical pressures of Hebrew Scripture. He claims, as we will see, that knowledge of the exact structure of the human soul is quite literally out of our reach, given our human limitations and our dependence on a divine creator.4 He fits this skepticism with a bewildering range of interpretations of the particular scriptural passage. We unfold Philo’s strategies. His primary interest is the opposition between soul and body, and what this tells us about the human soul and about humans’ status as created beings. The soul-body opposition is itself exempt from the doubts of skepticism, and thus allows Philo to rise above controver-

2 An excellent point of reference is The Studia Philonica Annual 5 (1993) devoted to this question, with contributions by Runia, Dillon, Winston, Sterling, and Tobin. 3 See, e.g., P. Potter–J.P. Wright (eds.), Psychê and Sôma. Physicians and Metaphysicians on the Mind-Body Problem from Antiquity to Enlightenment (Oxford 2000). 4 The theme of the created human being goes beyond the limits of this article, but see A. Beckaert, Les théories psychologiques de Philon d’Alexandrie (Paris 1943); A. Maddalena, “L’ΕΝΝΟΙΑ e l’ΕΠΙΣΤΗΜΗ ΘΕΟΥ in Filone Ebreo”, Rivista di Filologia e di Istruzione Classica 96 (1968), 5–27; D. Winston, Philo of Alexandria: The Contemplative life, The Giants and Selections (New York–Toronto 1981); T. Tobin, The Creation of Man: Philo and the History of Interpretation (Washington 1983), esp. 145–154. See also further references below.

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sies among the different philosophical schools. Hence he has the flexibility to choose a soul model based on the exegetical demands of the Scripture passage at hand. Stoic and Platonist influences have not been merely randomly juxtaposed, in a dabbling ‘eclecticism’, but they have a doxographical dynamic, partly in Philo’s sources and partly of his own making. Key to understanding this dynamic is the ‘Socratic’ view of the soul in Plato’s earlier dialogues, rather than, as some have supposed, Posidonius’ departure from the standard Stoic line and his alleged return to Plato.5 Plato’s Phaedo is the focal text for the ‘Socratic’ understanding of the soul: embodiment and sense-perception imprison the soul, disrupting its proper functioning by turning it away from the objects of knowledge (64a ff.). But if it is indeed a Socratic position as described by Plato that provides insight into Philo’s stance on psychology, then one might suppose that Platonism is dominant for Philo after all. Stoics such as Epictetus, however, who are close to Philo in time, demonstrate how Plato’s accounts of Socrates, notably in the Phaedo and the Apology, could be perceived as coming from Socrates himself, rather than belonging with Platonism.6 In other words, they did not worry as much as we do about the difficulties involved in getting to Socrates and beyond, for instance, Plato’s or Xenophon’s renderings. Long,7 and Sedley8 have argued convincingly that since the earliest days of the Porch, Stoics turned to Socrates as distinct from Plato and the Platonists, looking not merely for a role model of a hero-in-action, but for inspiration on matters of doctrine as well.

5 The view of a Posidonian influence is well represented by S. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria. A Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism (Oxford 1971), with analyses of Clement, Philo, Galen, Plutarch, Albinus [author of the Didaskalikos] and Plotinus, echoed by D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 301; 484; more generally, C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et les passions”, in L. Ciccolini–Ch. Guérin–S. Itic– S. Morlet, Réceptions antiques (Paris 2006), 27–44. 6 K. Döring, “Sokrates bei Epiktet”, in H. Gundert–K. Döring–W. Kullmann (eds.), Studia Platonica. Festschrift für Hermann Gundert (Amsterdam 1974), 195–226. 7 “Socrates in Hellenistic Philosophy”, Classical Quarterly 38 (1988), 150–171; “The Socratic Tradition: Diogenes, Crates and Hellenistic Ethics”, in R. Branham and M.-O. Goulet Cazé (eds.), The Cynics. The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and its Legacy (Berkeley 1996), 28–46; “The Socratic Legacy”, in K.A. Algra–J. Barnes–J. Mansfeld– M. Schofield (eds.) The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge 1999), 617– 641. 8 “Chrysippus on Psychophysical Causality”, in J. Brunschwig–M. Nussbaum (eds.), Passions and Perceptions. Studies in Hellenistic Philosophy of Mind (Cambridge 1993), 313–331.

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Runia9 has amply documented how Plato’s Timaeus underlies many crucial aspects of Philo’s thought. And, as I have argued,10 one could interpret Plato’s account of the creation of the human soul in the Timaeus as his own attempt to reconcile the ‘Socratic’ soul/body opposition with a psychological model that relies on the three parts of reason, spirit, and appetite, as developed in the Republic and the Phaedrus. In the first creation moment of the human soul, first that is in the narrative order, the Demiurge fashions himself the human reasoning faculty, using the same components that make up the World Soul, but in a less pure mixture. Next comes the account of how the two cognitive functions of the human soul, knowledge and opinion, are adversely affected by its incarnation into a human and mortal body, and by the influx of sense-perception. So at this point in the narrative irrational behaviour is explained in terms of a conflict between the soul and the body, with its turbulent flux, and between reason and sense-perception, the latter being explicitly linked to the human body. Spirit ("υμς) is merely a negative influence, not an ally for reason, and ranks among the passions (42a6–b2).11 When Plato turns to the second creation moment of the human soul, much later in the account (69c2 ff., with 61c5 ff. as a hinge), he first summarizes the previous account, and then turns to the lower gods’ task of fashioning the two mortal soul parts, spirit and appetite. In this passage spirit shifts from being merely a passion (69d1–5) to its role as a distinct part of the soul and reason’s natural ally, which uses the sensory aspect of the body to help reason maintain its control. This second moment was announced previously, but is developed only now. Hence Plato has succeeded in intertwining both accounts. Yet these two moments present two very different models for examining the soul’s relation with the body and the origin of the passions, and also two very different kinds of dualism. The two creation moments are moments in a narrative: the mortal body coming ‘before’ the mortal soul component in the account signals that humans have spirit and appetite in function of their mortal body. The World Soul, with its 9

Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, cit. Demiurge and Providence. Stoic and Platonist Readings of Plato’s Timaeus (Turnhout 1999), 62–65. 11 For a broader context of the issue, see R. Sorabji, Emotion and Peace of Mind. From Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation (Oxford 2000), 253–272, and “The Mind-Body Relation in the Wake of Plato’s Timaeus” in G. Reydams-Schils (ed.), Plato’s Timaeus as Cultural Icon (Notre Dame 2003), 152–162. 10

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perfected, everlasting body, does not have the lower soul parts. In the Republic too Plato establishes connections between spirit and appetite and embodiment, but not as clearly and as explicitly as in the Timaeus. The Phaedrus, by contrast, seems to posit that human souls have these lower functions in their disembodied state as well. In the Timaeus Plato presents the second moment as an unfolding of the first, and the first moment appears to anticipate, or rather open up into, the second: the pernicious influences of the mortal body are linked to mortal soul components, spirit and appetite. He has led his audience from one kind of dualism, between soul and body, the Socratic stance from earlier works, to another kind, between an immortal, rational soul function and mortal ones. Plato has good reasons for dividing the soul into parts. There is the problem of accounting for akrasia: how we can internally be pulled in different directions at the same time with regard to the same object (Resp. 483b8–c1). There is the need to distinguish between the ignorance or flaws of reason itself and akrasia as the conflict between reason and other motivational drives.12 And Plato’s foundational distinction between that through which sense-perception occurs, namely, the senses as instruments, and that in which, “the soul or something else” (Theaet. 184c–d), also moves the blame for irrational behaviour away from the body and the senses to the soul. So whereas in the Timaeus Plato may be attempting to integrate two different perspectives on the embattled condition of the human soul, the tripartite soul model of the second moment must have the final word. Philo, as we will see, goes in the other direction: incorporating famous passages from the Phaedrus and the Timaeus itself in which Plato highlights the tripartite model, he recasts them in terms of the struggle between soul an body. For Philo the first moment appears to carry the day. There is a parallel story to be told for the Stoics, I believe. The Stoic soul model posits a “commanding-faculty” (+γεμονικν) and seven subordinate instrumental parts: the five senses, speech, and reproduction. In the proper functioning of the hegemonikon impression (φαντασ.α), assent (συγκατ"εσις), impulse (:ρμ), and reason work together. Those functions, however, cannot be considered ‘parts’ in any proper sense of the 12 As in Soph. 228, and Tim. 86b ff., where Plato again oscillates between psychological factors and the body’s influence: νοσοLσαν κα1 2φρονα cσχων Iπ< τοL σNματος τ/ν ψυχν/τ< δH λη"Hς … νσος ψυχ3ς γ0νονεν.

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word; in each of them the commanding-faculty as a whole is at work. One Stoic fragment states it as follows: “Just as an apple possesses in the same body sweetness and fragrance, so too the commanding-faculty combines in the same body impression, assent, impulse, reason?” (trans. Long, SVF 2.826 = 53 K Long-Sedley). Hence on the level of the commanding-faculty Stoic psychology is unitary. The Early Stoics, and Chrysippus in particular, could have found support in the first creation moment of the Timaeus, and in the psychophysical description of anger in the second moment13 for their own view that passion is a malfunctioning of reason itself, and does not require an explanation in terms of a conflict between different soul parts. Other passages in Plato too could have given the Stoics the idea that they were finetuning a Socratic position, such as this one from the Protagoras, in which Socrates rejects the many’s view on knowledge (πιστμη): [they hold] it is not something secure, nor sovereign (+γεμονικν), nor in control … Rather, often when knowledge is in a human being, it is not knowledge that is in control of him, but something else, now spirit ("υμς), now pleasure, then again sorrow, sometimes desire, often fear. In their naivité they think about knowledge as something slavish, that is, as dragged about by all these other things (352b3–c2).

But although the Early Stoics do distinguish between the body and the kind of corporeal entity the soul is,14 they quite conspicuously abstain from the ‘blame the body’ motif,15 and hence do not adopt the soul/body opposition. Later Stoic like Seneca and Epictetus, on the other hand, who also show a renewed interest in Socrates, do not hesitate to make use of the struggle between soul and body to account for the passions.16 It is this soul/body dualism, prominent in both Middle-Platonism and Stoicism of the imperial period, rather 13 Ch. Gill, “Galen versus Chrysippus on the Tripartite Psyche in Timaeus 69–72”, in T. Calvo–L. Brisson (eds.), Interpreting the Timaeus-Critias (Sankt Augustin 1997), 267–273. 14 See A.A. Long, “Soul and Body in Stoicism”, Phronesis 27 (1982), 34–57. 15 Chrysippus is said to have compared the soul’s health or sickness to similar conditions in the body, by analogy, Gal. De Hipp. et Plat. plac. 5.294, 33–296, 17; Cic. Tusc. 4.23. For Posidonius’ response, see De Hipp. et Plat. plac 5.322, 11–14 (ed. De Lacy) = 65 M Long-Sedley = Posidonius F169 Edelstein-Kidd; for his use of the soul-body distinction, see F154 Edelstein-Kidd. Compare to Sen. Ep. 92.10. 16 E.g. Sen. Ep. 31.11; 65.16, 21; 71.27, 30; 76.25; 78.10; 92.10; 114.23–25; 120.15– 18 (crucial passage); De ira, 2.3.2; Epictetus in Marcus Aurelius 4.41; see also Marcus Aurelius 3.16; 7.66 (mentioning Socrates and the Phaedo context); 12.1. An excellent starting point is the contribution by E. Asmis, “The Stoicism of Marcus Aurelius”, in ANRW, II 36.3 (Berlin 1989), 2228–2252.

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than Posidonius’ much debated introduction of the irrational factors spirit and appetite into Stoic psychology, which allows for the oscillation between Stoics and Platonists in Philo’s writings.

I. Philo’s Psychology, Nuts and Bolts A. The soul/body distinction (with B, mind-senses-passions, subsumed) This is by far the most essential distinction for Philo. It is much more important than any distinction among the soul’s faculties and/or parts. Under this heading I include the externals with the body, and the Timaeus notion (cf. above) that the soul-in-the-body is dragged along in the flux of becoming, and is ‘bombarded’ by external influences. A few other expressions are noteworthy: A1. Pleasure and passion as bodily, as belonging to the belly, or the ‘lower region’ of the body, rather than as a soul function or part, as in: Opif. 158: Leg. 3.138, 147, 158, 159; Cher. 93; Sacr. 49; Det. 9; Gig. 33, 60; Deus, 15, 143; Agr. 36, 38; Ebr. 206–220; Migr. 18, 29; Her. 57; Congr. 59–60, 80, 169; Mut. 171 (πι"υμ.α specifically); Somn. 2.13–16, 106; Ios. 61, 154; Mos. 1.28, 160; 22.23, 24, 185; Spec. 1.148, 192, 206; 2.49, 163, 195; 3.43, 194 (π"η of soul reflected in the eyes); 4.90–91, 113 (see also QG 1.48); Virt. 136 (γαστριμαργ.ας \ρ0ξεις); QG 1.12 (but see also 13), 48 (see also Spec. 4.113, but here belly and breast), 99; 2.59; 4.168, 191. For other passages about psychosomatic traits, see Virt. 68; Praem. 31, QG 4.159. There is a very interesting sequence at Prov. 2.18: wrath (\ργ) and pulsations of the mind (νισοταχεSς κα1 παρA φ6σιν κεκινημ0νοι παλμο.), the tongue, and the connection between desire in general (cf. below) and the belly, cf. also Congr. 211: sense-perception as τ< σωματοειδ0στερον ψυχ3ς μ0ρος (cf. also below, for sense-perception and for the language of parts). Related to these are expressions such as “the passion-loving body” (Fug. 18–19: τ< φιλοπα"Hς … σ8μα; Ebr. 70), or “the body-loving mind/soul” (Leg. 1.33: : φιλοσNματος νοLς; cf. also Deus, 111, with φιλοπα"ς; Post. 61; see also QG 4.37).

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A2. The notion of the body as burden and prison of the soul, body as shell/coffin/corpse,17 as in: Leg 1.108 (see also 103); 3.42, 69, 71, 72 (allusion to the Phaedo), 75, 80; Sacr. 95; Gig. 15, 30–31 (souls that are free from the “burden of flesh,” : σαρκ8ν φρτος, and those that are weighed down by it, cf. also Plant. 25–26); Deus, 2 (burden of flesh: σαρκ8ν @χλον βαρ6τατον 2χ"ος), 150; Agr. 25, 65; Migr. 8–9, 16, 21– 22; Her. 68, 85; Somn. 1.139, 148; 2.72, 237; Spec. 4.188; QG 1.70; 2.12, 69; 4.74–75, 77, 153. Contrast these passages with Praem. 119 (the idea that body is the most congenital house of the soul). A3. The association of the body with earth and with matter (as opposed to the active, divine principle or cause), as in Opif. 135 (see also 158); Leg. 1.1, 33, 82; 3.161; Det. 98; Gig. 12–15, 60 (pleasures of the body); Plant. 25, 44; Conf. 23; Migr. 3, 7; Her. 57; Mut. 21, 33–34; Somn. 1.138; QG 1.83 (inversion of wicked man lording over the good, sense over mind, body over sense, matter over cause; contrast this with QE 1.4; soul passing over from body, mind passing over from senses); 3.3; 4.191; QE 2.33. A4. The bodily “vessels” of sense perception/sense and the “hollows” of the body, as in: Det. 17, 100–103; Post. 137 (see also 182); Agr. 97; Ebr. 214 (receptacles); Migr. 188–190 (holes, openings); Her. 85, 185; Fug. 45; Abr. 72 (holes); QG 2.34 (senses as windows of body). A5. Bodily necessity/constraints of the body, as in: Leg. 2.29, 57; 3.41, 151–152; Her. 45, 274; Somn. 1.46, 110; Ios. 264; Praem. 121; Contempl. 34 (see also Mos. 2.201, where Philo talks about the constraints of senseperception). A6. The flux metaphor and/or external influences,18 as in Leg. 2.103 (of passions); 3.234–235 (flames); Sacr. 105–106; Det. 15, 100; Post. 182 (High-Priest Phinetas in control of the body’s inlets and outlets); Gig. 17 See also Aristotle Protrepticus, in Aristotelis Fragmenta Selecta 10b (Ross ed.), 41–42; and P. Courcelle, “Tradition platonicienne et traditions chrétiennes du corps-prison (Phédon 62 b; Cratyle 400 c)”, Revue des Etudes Latines 43 (1965), 406–443; “Le corpstombeau (Platon, Gorgias 493a, Cratyle 400c, Phèdre 250c)”, Revue des Etudes Anciennes, 68 (1966), 101–122, and “Grab der Seele”, in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum XII (1983), 455–467. I concentrate on the Stoic and Platonist aspects, but there are important Peripatetic traits as well, of course. 18 For Plato’s use of this metaphor, cf. for instance Tim. 43a5–8, 43d2–4, 44b9–c1; Phaedr. 248a8 ff.

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13–15; Agr. 89; Plant. 144 (drink); Ebr. 22, 70; Conf. 23; Migr. 100 (current of fire); 124–125 (flood of Noah); Fug. 49, 91, 190–193; Mut. 107 (see also 138, flow of superstition), 186, 214, 239 (but flood of thoughts); Somn. 2.13, 109 (body as “the Egyptian river of passion” : τ8ν πα"8ν Α9γ6πτιος ποταμς, through the channel of the senses); 237; 258; Spec. 1.192; 2.147; Virt. 13–14; QE 2.55. Contrast these passages with Somn. 2.245–249, on the stream of the Divine Word. B. Mind versus the senses and the passions (as an unfolding of A) This second heading is subsumed under the first one in Philo’s writings. The alignment between the body, the senses and the passions recaptures the first creation moment of the soul in the Timaeus, which, I argue, anticipates the second moment, but could also have been read by the Early Stoics as prefiguring their psychology. B1. Senses evaluated positively, they are needed in mortal life, as in: Opif. 139 (through senses creator makes body ensouled), 150; Leg. 1.28; 2.5 (both sense and passions as helpers of the soul), 8 ff., 6: passions as off-spring of senses; 3.49: 2νευ γAρ τ8ν δυνμεων : νοLς κα"D Fαυτ<ν γυμν<ς κα1 οδH pν εIρ.σκεταιP μ.α δH τ8ν δυνμεων κα1 + αcσ"ησις; Agr. 80; Plant. 133; Congr. 21; Fug. 45; Somn. 1.187–188 (sense-perception as a gate into the intelligible realm); QG 1.32; (not Det. 33, a view Philo rejects). B2. Senses as the allies of mind, mind in control of the senses, as in: Leg. 1.1, 29–30 ([νοLς] : δH κιν8ν τ/ν αcσ"ησιν πρ<ς τ< κτ<ς Yς `ν τεχν.της, ]να γ0νηται :ρμ, in decidedly Stoic language, cf. below); 2.24, 40; 3.108: sense by itself blind in nature and irrational, sight conferred by reasoning faculty; 185: starting point of senses is mind (κα"περ τιν<ς πηγ3ς α? α9σ"ητικα1 τε.νονται δυνμεις); 223; Sacr. 105–106; 112; Det. 53–54; Deus, 46: mind as sight of the soul; Ebr. 169; Migr. 207: mind and sense-perception mingled together to produce a single kind, not to be censured (α9σ"ητ3ς κα1 νοητ3ς φ6σεως, συγκεκραμ0νων μφοSν ε9ς εcδους Fν<ς νεπιλπτου γ0νεσιν); Her. 184–185 (see also 132); Congr. 143: the senses perceive, but the mind perceives better through them, hence the expressions of the mind as the eye’s eye or the hearing’s hearing; Mut. 111 (the advantages for mind of “repeated apprehension” ταSς γγινομ0ναις καταλψεσι); Somn. 1.118; Abr. 73: mind as the puppeteer

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of the senses (cf. also Opif. 117 for a Stoic application of this image); Mos. 2.81–82: πε1 δH τ3ς ν +μSν α9σ"σεως κεφαλ/ μHν κα1 +γεμονικ<ν : νοLς; QG 1.37; 2.12; 4.1: reason as the senses doorkeeper, 215: senses serve the body, the mind serves God; QE 1.22; 2.52; 100 (context of Platonist model). B3. In the Timaeus Plato applies the metaphor “guardians of the citadel” to the spirited part of the soul (70a6; b2). Philo transfers this metaphor strikingly to the senses, even in a context, Conf. 19, in which he cites the Timaeus (more on this below); in Conf. 27 (and 55; Mut. 21, Somn. 2.96) the thoughts themselves are called guards and sentinels,19 as in: Opif. 139; Leg. 3.115 (context Timaeus view); Det. 33 (but part of view that Philo rejects); 85 (Timaeus context); Ebr. 201 (together with health, strength and soundness); Conf. 19 (together with health and strength; see also Her. 286: health and soundness of body guards of the soul), 133 (senses tower, part of view that Philo rejects); Somn. 1.27, 32; Abr. 150 (sight as on a citadel); Spec. 3.111; 4.92–93 (context Timaeus view), 123; QE 2.100. B4. Rebellious senses, causing deadly ills, aligned with body, passions and externals, as in: Opif. 165; Leg. 2.50; 3.103, 110, 200; Cher. 57; Sacr. 105–106; Ebr. 58: προσδο"0ντες δD Iπ< τ8ν φ.λων α9σ"σεων ;λην τ/ν ψυχ3ς συμμαχ.αν κλε.πομεν; 69–70; Conf. 105; 133; Migr. 20; 100; 141; Her. 242; Fug. 190–193 (sins of both mind and sense-perception); Mut. 113; Somn. 2.12–14; 50–51 (from tongue and belly to sense of taste, which once hooked gives access to the senses in general); Ios. 142; Mos. 2.211; QG 3.41; 4.242: senses easily polluted; QE 1.22: through the senses as doors the mind is dragged into the stream of sensible reality; see also Leg. 2.99; Conf. 133. B5. Mind withdrawing from senses and objects of sense-perception, as in: Leg. 2.25, 29–30: sleep of mind/wake of senses,20 and vice versa; Cher. 41: knowledge comes into being through estrangement from sense 19 See D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 306–308, including references to Cicero, Heraclitus (the author of a treatise on allegory), Albinus [= author of the Didaskalikos], Galen, Calcidius, Gregory of Nyssa. Runia rejects the hypothesis that this imagery is due to Posidonius’ supposed commentary on the Timaeus, and points to the image of the Great King and his courtiers (in ps. Arist. De mundo, 6.398a10–25), and to Plat. Leges, 964e–965a. 20 Contrast Philo’s use of this theme with the passage in Sextus Empiricus on

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and body (λλοτριNσει δD α9σ"σεως κα1 σNματος πιστμη συν.σταται); Migr. 141 (mortal = objects of sense-perception/immortal = intelligible, νοητ); 190–191: sleep of body/wake of mind (prophesy); Her. 257: sleep of mind/wake of senses, and reverse; Spec. 1.219: sleep of body and senses/wake of mind (but role of liver as mirror, prophesy); QG 1.24 (sleep is senses withdrawing from sense-perceptible things, and the intellect withdrawing from sense); QE 1.22. B6. Sense-perception aligned with earth, as in: Leg. 1.1 (and relation with body); Det. 99; Conf. 78; Fug. 192; Somn. 1.146; QG 4.215; see also QG 4.193. B7. Sense-perception aligned with woman/the female, as in: Opif. 165; Leg. 2.14, 38, 49, 64, 73 (with serpent of pleasure, see also 87), 3.11 (τ< "3λυ α9σ"ητ<ν π"ος, linking of female, sense-perception and passion), 49–50, 185–186; Cher. 41, 57 (Adam/Eve); Det. 52; Post. 177; Agr. 80 (Miriam as sense-perception made pure and clean; contra: Leg. 2.67; 3.103); 97; Ebr. 54; cf. also 58; Migr. 100; 205–208; Somn. 1.246; 2.13–14; Abr. 150; Spec. 1.201; Hypoth. 11, 15; QG 1.37, 52; 2.12, 49; 3.3. See also Sacr. 105–106, Gig. 4; Fug. 190; Mut. 111; QG 1.48; 4.15; women’s quarters as opposed to men’s, menstruation as purification; 38; QE 2.8; mother’s milk as nourishment for desire. B8. Grouping of four passions and five sense faculties as “nine kings,” as in: Ebr. 105; Congr. 92; Abr. 236. B9. Hierarchy among the senses, some more independent of body than others, as in: Somn. 2.50–51 (sense of taste ensnaring other senses); Abr. 147–150 (hearing and sight serve philosophy); 160: hearing; 164: all senses except sight tied to body; 241: sight, hearing, smell considered more independent; Spec. 3.184; QG 1.32 (sight and hearing); 2.34 (sight); 3.4 (sight and hearing go with the mind).21

Heraclitus, M 7.126–134, which shows traces of Stoic language; R. Polito, “Sextus on Heraclitus on Sleep”, in T. Wiedemann–K. Dowden (eds.), Sleep (Bari 2003), 53–70. 21 On the encomium of sight and the Timaeus, see D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 270–276.

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B10. List of sense-perception, mind (or soul), logos/logismos (and body)22 (see also A), as in: Leg. 1.103–104; Sacr. 97 (see also 73); Post. 55; Ebr. 71; Migr. 3; 192; 219 (plus pleasure, desire, fear, pain, see C8); Her. 107; 119; Congr. 100; Mut. 56; Somn. 1.25 (body, sense-perception, logos and mind factors of the highest importance in us), 33, 77–78; Spec. 1.211 (parts of primary importance: first of all body and soul, then logos, mind, and sense); QG 2.59; 3.3. Bi. Spirit ("υμς) as one of the desires (πι"υμ.αι), and usage of the term “desire”. The point here is that spirit is drawn into the general category of passions, and does not function as a soul factor of its own, nor as reason’s ally. This section contains the applications of the terms “spirit” ("υμς) and “desire” (πι"υμ.α) that do not underscore Plato’s tripartite psychology, and therefore do not go beyond the first creation moment of the Timaeus itself. As such these passages are compatible with Stoic psychology (see Bi.2). Bi.1. πι"υμ.α not as a collective noun for the afflictions connected to the lowest soul part, but as one passion among others; this usage is common in Philo’s works, as in: Det. 16; 26; Agr. 17, 78; Ebr. 75 (civil war of desire); Migr. 119; (contra 155, in which πι"υμ.α is a genus; see also Spec. 4. 85 ff., 95); Congr. 57, 60; Mut. 215; Somn. 2.276; Ios. 49: desire as beclouding even the keenest of the senses, 153; Mos. 1.25–29, 160; 2.58; Decal. 142 ff. (in a Stoic account of the passions, cf. infra); Spec. 2.9, 37; 4.79 (Stoic context, cf. infra), 113; Praem. 17, 19; Prob. 45; Prov. 2.18. Bi.2. A specific list of +δον, λ6πη, φβος and πι"υμ.α; the Stoic list, cf. below.

22 See the excellent analysis of J. Whittaker, “How to Define the Rational Soul?”, in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le langage de la philosophie, cit., 238: “since the term λογισμς was also utilized by Stoics to designate the +γεμονικν, it represents a convenient meeting-ground of Platonists and Stoics. I would go as far as to affirm that the Middle Platonic use of the term is, above all, the consequence of Stoic influence”. And 249–253: “The true source of the prevalence of the formula νοLς κα1 λγος lies rather [than coming directly from the Platonic or the Aristotelian corpus], I believe, in the Stoic tradition”. In the same volume, see also J. Bouffartigue, “La structure de l’âme chez Philon: terminologie scolastique et métaphores”, 59–76 and A. Le Boulluec, “La place des concepts philosophiques dans la réflexion de Philon sur le plaisir”, 129–152.

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Bi.3. "υμς (spirit) as a detrimental soul factor, as \ργ (wrath) (cf. also the first creation moment in Plato’s account, above), as in: Leg. 3.123, 128 ("υμς as the bad, unruly horse), 129 (about eradicating spirit, see also QG 4.42), 130 (spirit war-like in a negative sense, not as reason’s ally), 136–137 (followed by belly-pleasure), 147: spirit can be eradicated, belly can only be cleansed; Deus, 71 (spirit as master passion in humans), 72 (as the fountain of misdeeds); Agr. 17 (both "υμς and \ργ), 78; Ebr. 223 (both); Migr: 67: warlike spirit and desire to be exscinded, Platonic model, 210 (both spirit and wrath); Her. 64 (connected to blood-soul, plus desire); Prob. 45 (wrath, where one might expect spirit, cf. also Prov. 2.18); Spec. 3.92: anger overpowering reasoning; QG 4.216–217; QE 2.115: refractory nature of anger. Bii. Body, senses and Philo’s use of ‘irrational’ and of ‘parts’ Philo applies the ‘part’ language to the soul/body distinction, and to the senses as well. In other words, the ‘parts’ terminology is not sufficient to single out the Platonic model as opposed to the Stoic one. By using ‘parts’ to indicate the soul’s struggle with the body, Philo can in fact avoid the controversy between the Platonists and the Stoics. The ‘Socratic’ position provides the higher ground, from where Philo can launch into Stoic or Platonic psychology, or even use a mixed model. The latter betrays influences that work in both directions, with the Platonic view showing Stoic traces or vice versa. Bii.1. Body as the irrational or mortal (part), as in: Opif. 135 (mortal/immortal and body/soul distinction); Agr. 56: 2λογος φ6σις connected to body, as opposed to mind; Congr. 21; Spec. 1.66: body 2λογος φ6σις; Virt. 3 (in the Cohn reading). Bii 2. Senses and the irrational, language of parts, as in: Leg. 1.1 (with “part,” μ0ρος); Leg. 2.6 (connected to passions, τ< δH 2λογον αcσ"ησ.ς στι κα1 τA τα6της Eκγονα π"η), 8: μι=ς γρ στι ψυχ3ς μρη κα γεννματα q τε αcσ"ησις κα1 τA π"η, 75 (connected to passions); 3.108, 111, 220, 251 (senses as a part, μ0ρος, of the soul); Sacr. 104 (sense-perception as wild or tame); Det. 25, 53–54 (with image of charioteer), 100–103; Post. 98; Migr. 3–7: sense irrational brother of rational understanding (δινοια), both parts of one soul, μι=ς 2μφω μ0ρη ψυχ3ς, 200, 212: senses as fitting abode for irrational nature, 213: κ γAρ α9σ"σεως α? 2λογοι Yς κ διανο.ας α? λογικα1 δυνμεις ε9σ.; Her. 184–185: senses as the mixed, less pure and irrational part, μ0ρος, in us, can become rational if fol-

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lowing the lead of the mind, 225: a ψυχ τριμερς which consists of soul in the narrower sense of mind, speech and sense (cf. 132); Congr. 21: sense as the most body-like part, μ0ρος, of the soul, 26: soul two parts, rational/irrational, senses and the parts of the irrational, διA τ8ν α9σ"σεων κα1 τοL λγου μερ8ν; Fug. 46, 71–72, 75, 91: τ< 2λογον split in five senses, analogous to passions (cf. also Mut. 110, α? τοL λγου δυνμεις, including speech and reproduction, 116; Ebr. 69 ff.; Spec. 1.333); Somn 2.16; Spec. 1.201, 211; 2.163; 4.123; Praem. 26; QG 2.34, 59, sense included in a Peripatetic tripartition, with the nutritive and the rational function; 3.5; 4.121, 215 (but contrast with 216), 230 (+ passions). Bii.3. The Stoic division, grouping senses with instrumental functions, and the language of parts: cf. infra. Also of interest: ο9κε.ωσις towards ψεLδος as soul part, Spec. 4.68; senses as daughters/offspring of irrational part of soul: Migr. 206 (context of Platonic model); Aristotelian notion of “sensory soul” (ψυχ/ α9σ"ητικ) as in Spec. 4.123; QG 2.59 (but more often “sensory power,” δ6ναμις, in soul, as in Opif. 67; Leg. 2.24, 35, 45; Cher. 64). C. Stoic model of the soul C1. Mind in its rapport with the senses (apprehension); representation and impulse, as in: Leg. 1.29–30: aστε ντ.δοσιν : νοLς κα1 τ< α9σ"ητ<ν ε1 μελετ8σι, τ< μHν προϋποκε.μενον α9σ"σει Yς `ν Tλη, : δH κιν8ν τ/ν αcσ"ησιν πρ<ς τ< κτ<ς Yς `ν τεχν.της, ]να γ0νηται :ρμ. Τ< γAρ ζG8ον τοL μ/ ζGNου δυσ1 προ_χει, φαντασ.>α κα1 :ρμJ3P + μHν οRν φαντασ.α συν.σταται κατA τ/ν τοL κτ<ς πρσοδον τυποLντος νοLν δ9 α9σ"σεως, + δH :ρμ, τ< δελφ<ν τ3ς φαντασ.ας, κατA τ/ν τοL νοL τονικ/ν δ6ναμιν, rν τε.νας δ9 α9σ"σεως jπτεται τοL Iποκειμ0νου κα1 πρ<ς ατ< χωρεS γλιχμενος φικ0σ"αι κα1 συλλαβεSν ατ [mind behaving like

active principle here]; Leg. 3.185: passion as irrational impulse the starting point of pleasure; mind starting point of senses: π< γAρ το6του [mind] κα"περ τιν<ς πηγ3ς α? α9σ"ητικα1 τε.νονται δυνμεις (backed by Moses’ authority); Deus, 41–44; Her. 132; Fug. 182: τ< +γεμονικ<ν +μ8ν οικ<ς πηγJ3 δυνμεις πολλA οgα διA γ3ς φλεβ8ν νομβροLν, τAς δυνμεις τα6τας 2χρι τ8ν σ"σεων [\ργνων], \φ"αλμ8ν, Xτων, Vιν8ν, τ8ν 2λλων, ποστ0λλει … ποτ.ζεται οRν Xσπερ π< πηγ3ς τοL κατA ψυχ/ν +γεμονικοL τ< σNματος +γεμονικ<ν πρσωπον, τ< μHν :ρατικ<ν πνεLμα τε.νοντος ε9ς @μματα, τ< δH κουστικ<ν ε9ς οRς…; Mut. 257: α? δD :ρμα1 κα1 φαντασ.αι—πρ8ται δD ε9σ1ν αiται κινσεις κα1 σχ0σεις ψυχ3ς…;

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Somn. 1.192: reasoning’s subject to contrary impressions; 2.162: mind robbed of true apprehensions by sleep/dreams; Mos. 2.82: τ3ς ν +μSν α9σ"σεως κεφαλ/ μHν κα1 +γεμονικ<ν : νοLς; QG 3.3 (compare to Opif. 166). Also of interest: Praem. 48: σ6μφορον δH οδHν οTτως Yς τ< κεχαλασμ0νον κα1 νειμ0νον τ8ν :ρμ8ν νακοπ3να. τε κα1 ναρκ3σαι παρε"Hν τοCς πνευματικοCς τνους, ]νD + τ8ν πα"8ν 2μετρος 9σχCς ξασ"ενσασα πλτος μαπαρσχJη ψυχ3ς τG8 βελτ.ονι μ0ρει; “swerving” (τροπ) of the

mind (cf. SVF 3.459); Sacr. 137; Post. 22: unstable impressions; Migr. 148, in terms of “leaning” (κλ.νεται : νοLς) to one side or the other; Mut. 180, 243 (bad intentions); 257 (with φαντασ.α); Somn. 1.192: reasonings subject to contrary impressions. C2. Mind and pneuma,23 as in: Opif. 135 (divine breath connected to soul and δινοια, contrast with 67, question of the origin of the faculty of reasoning deferred); Leg. 1.33 (divine breath), 37 (divine breath), 42 (mind made after the image and original partakes of pneuma); 91: question left open, theme of skepticism; 3.161 (soul, connection with ether); Det. 81 ff.; Gig. 22–29: wise man partaking in divine wisdom, spirit of God that fills all things, without being diminished; see also 47, 53, 55; Deus, 84; Plant. 18: mind/rational soul not part (μοSρα) of ether, but imprint of seal of divine, invisible pneuma;24 24–26: mind lifted, raised by divine pneuma; Her. 55: hegemonikon is divine pneuma; 57, 265: mind evicted by divine pneuma (experience of prophets, compare this to theme of sleeping senses/waking mind, B5); Fug. 134: vintage Stoicism: : νοLς, Eν"ερμον κα1 πεπυρωμ0νον πνεLμα, 182; Mut. 123, (see also 180); Somn. 1.30; Mos. 2.265: divine pneuma directing mind to truth, analogous to prophesy; Spec. 1.6: τ< μHν γκρδιον πνεLμα [πρ<ς γ0νεσιν] νοημτων; 171: IπHρ τοL +γεμονικοL, τοL ν +μSν λογικοL πνε6ματος, 277: πνεLμα λογικν; 4.123: sensory soul opposed to τ3ς νοερ=ς κα1 λογικ3ς, blood the source of one, substance of other is divine pneuma, either ether/pneuma or something better than that, πα6γασμα of divine nature; see also QG 2.59; Aet. 111, but view attributed to Heraclitus.

23 See G. Sellin, Der Streit um die Auferstehung der Toten. Eine religionsgeschichtliche und exegetische Untersuchung von 1 Korinther 15 (Göttingen 1986). 24 An invisible pneuma is not necessarily an immaterial one; for a recent analysis of the issue, see J. Dillon, “Asômatos: Nuances of Incorporeality in Philo”, in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le langage de la philosophie, cit., 99–110.

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Also of interest: different degrees of pneuma: Deus, 35 ff.; Her. 242: τ8ν πνευματικ8ν τνων, οQ συμφυ0στατος δεσμ<ς eσαν, of bodies; Somn. 1.136–137 (Mξις-φ6σις-ψυχ connected to air, soul invisible); Spec. 4.217: πνεLμα ζGωφυτοLν; Praem. 48: τοCς πνευματικοCς τνους; 144: τοL δD ν ρτηρ.αις πνε6ματος; see also QG 2.59: but here air in arteries con-

nected to reasoning; Prob. 26; Aet. 86; 125 (pneumatic tension that holds stones together); QG 2.4.

C3. Mind as divine apospasma, as in: Opif. 146 (three options considered, copy, fragment or ray of blessed nature: τ3ς μακαρ.ας φ6σεως κμαγεSον W πσπασμα W πα6γασμα); Leg. 3.161 (soul, connection with ether); Det. 90; Her. 283 (connection with ether); Mut. 222–223 (κμαγεSον preferred over πσπασμα); Somn. 1.34. C4. Location of the ruling part, head or heart, as in: Leg. 1.39: face hegemonikon of body as mind is of soul, 59: “some say” heart, speaking as physicians rather than natural philosophers; 2.6: heart is to the body as hegemonikon is to soul (attributed to the best physicians and natural philosophers); Sacr. 136–137: both possibilities considered, question left open; Post. 137–138: up to the experts (ο? περ1 ταLτα δεινο1 φιλοσοφε.τωσαν) to determine whether brain or heart; Deus, 84: word “driven up” (ναπεμπμενον), indicates heart, same in Sacr. 74, Somn. 1.29: [φων/] π< διανο.ας ναπ0μπεται (see also 32, both possibilities considered, question left open; contrast with Conf. 33: speech flowing downwards); Fug. 182: face hegemonikon to body, analogous to hegemonikon of soul; Mut. 123–124: allegorizing of change of heart; Somn. 1.128: head to body as highest logos to soul; Spec. 1.6: thought generated by γκρδιον πνεLμα; 213: both possibilities considered, question left open; 3.184: head hegemonia over body; 4.69, 123: face hegemonikotaton of body, 137; QG 1.10; QE 2.50: “heart” instead of “sovereign mind”. Also of interest: the expression “sovereign mind” in the soul, and related ones: Her. 55; Somn. 1.30; 2.153; Mos. 2.81; Spec. 2.62; Virt. 205; QG 2.5, 11. C5. Irrationality as irrational impulse/movement (:ρμ/ 2λογος/πλεονζουσα/κ.νησις), as opposed to the proper kind, as in: Opif. 81 (connected to δυνμεις); Leg. 3.185, 229, 248; Post. 74; Agr. 94 (with φορ and connected to δυνμεις); Ebr. 97–98, 111; Her. 245 (leading to 2λογοι πι"υμ.αι); Congr. 55; Fug. 158; Somn. 2.276; Abr. 38 (good impulses); Mos. 1.26, 50 (healthy ones), 160; Spec. 2.142; 4.79: 2μετρος κα1 πλεο-

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νζουσα :ρμ/ κα1 τ3ς ψυχ3ς + 2λογος κα1 παρA φ6σιν κ.νησις, leading to πι"υμ.α; Praem. 48; cf. also Prov. 2.18 (pulsations of the mind: νισοταχεSς κα1 παρA φ6σιν κεκινημ0νοι παλμο.), 104 (impulses of δινοια,

the good ones); QG 1.22, 52; 3.2, 28, 51 (but connected to five senses, speech, reproduction and body as a whole, see below); 4.65–66 (impulses guarded by God’s Providence), 206; QE 1.16. Compare also with: Leg. 3.160: τ< π"ος ν τJ3 ψυχJ3 κινο6μενον lρεμεSν ατ/ν οκ >=; Sacr. 46–47: τAς μHν οRν λγους ατοL φορς (of mind itself; φορς Timaeus terminology); Det. 5: τAς ψυχ3ς λγους φορς; Agr. 88: περ1 τ3ς κατA ψυχ/ν λγου κα1 μ0τρου κα1 πει"οLς φορ=ς; Sobr. 7: ε9ς ψυχ3ς δυνμεις κινουμ0νης εR τε κα1 χεSρον (Posidonius; divine revolutions of mind); Her. 88; 184–185 (divine revolutions of mind, Timaeus language, see Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, cit., 276–278). C6. Soul and τνος, as in: Leg. 1.29–30; Fug. 39; Somn. 1.111: [λγος] φ.λος γAρ κα1 γνNριμος κα1 συν"ης κα1 FταSρος +μSν στιν, νδεδεμ0νος, μ=λλον δH +ρμοσμ0νος κα1 +νωμ0νος κλλJη τιν1 φ6σεως λ6τGω κα1 ορτGω; Ios. 61 (with also the notion of νεLρα); Decal. 122; Spec. 1.99; Praem. 21, 48; QG 1.10, 24.

C7. The Stoic distinction between ruling faculty and the instrumental ones, and the language of parts, as in: Opif. 117: Stoic model, τ< δ.χα τοL +γεμονικοL μ0ρος Fπταχ3 σχ.ζεται; Leg. 1.11: ψυχ3ς τ< 2λογον Fπταμερ0ς, 39; Det. 100–103, 168: τ< 2λογον τ3ς ψυχ3ς ε9ς FπτA διαν0μεται μο.ρας; Agr. 30 (with the notion of one root and two shoots); Her. 232–233; Mut. 111; Spec. 1.211; 4.79; QG 1.75; 2.11–12 (with Socratic theme); 3.51; 4.110. Contrast with, for example, QG 3.5, where speech goes with mind into the rational part, and the senses are reduced to four. Seven parts, connected to Timaeus’ circles of the planets, as in: Her. 232–233; QG 4.110 (cf. also Cher. 22–23). C8. A specific list of +δον, λ6πη, φβος, and πι"υμ.α; the Stoic list, as in: Opif. 79 (with γαστριμαργ.α); Migr. 60, 219; Ios. 79; Mos. 2.139; Decal. 142 ff.; Spec. 2.30; Prob. 18, 159 (+ \ργ); Prov. 2.8 (longer list + Eρως); QG 2.55–57; 4.15 (cf. 38), 230 (+ senses and passions in general). See the section below, E. mixed cases, for passion as a “four-legged creature”, and Deus, 71: anger, fear, pain and pleasure, compared to the Timaeus lists (43a6–7; 69d1–4).

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D. Platonic model of the soul D1. Leg. 1.70: tripartite soul, spatial locations, discussion of cardinal virtues; 3.123: reason controlling irrationality of spirit; Agr. 72–73: tripartite psychology, image of one who holds reins and two horses, but see also 78; Conf. 21: tripartite soul, three parts cooperating in sin; Migr. 66: desire and its brother passion spirit make up the irrational part of the soul; 67: spatial locations (breast and belly), charioteer image; reason making use of proper impressions (compare also with 18); Spec. 1.145– 148: full-fledged tripartite model, with spatial locations; 4.92: Timaeus account, with different spatial locations, and positive role of spirit (but see also 4.79: Stoic model); Virt. 113: reason bridling desire; Praem. 13: mortal/immortal ‘nature’ only, not fully developed model (also Det. 91—rational/irrational part; Conf. 21, 112; Migr. 18—but both plural; 185); 59: spirit and desire, irrational part warring against reason; QG 1.13: tripartite soul; 4.42: “entire place of desire and anger”, 216; QE 1.12: tripartite soul: heart (location, not function)/desire/reason; 2.100: tripartite soul, spatial locations; 115: anger connected to heart, needing reason’s control, see Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, cit., 301–305. See also Leg. 3.115: tripartite soul, but Philo mentions that “some philosophers have distinguished these parts from each other in regard to function, some in regard also to the places which they occupy”. D2. Posidonian position, as described by Galen (see below), of irrational functions rather than parts, as in: Leg. 3.115, cf. supra; Sacr. 45 (metaphor of flock and herdsman); Det. 3 (with metaphor of flock and herdsman), 95; Conf. 112: functions and parts; Somn. 2.151–153 (metaphor of flock and herdsman); Virt. 13 (reason reining in faculties like horses); QG 3.115. D3. Stronger/weaker or better/worse soul parts, as in: Migr. 185; Fug. 24 ( μ0ρος); Somn. 1.152 (μοSρα); Spec. 3.99 (μ0ρος and εBδος); Virt. 40 (τ/ν \λιγφρονα μοSραν); Praem. 48 (but with Stoic language, see below section E. mixed cases). E. Mixed cases Leg. 3.128: reason versus spirit, located in breast, but spirit reckoned among “random impulses” (κρ.τοις :ρμαSς); unruly horse; Migr. 67–

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68: tripartite soul, reason making use of proper impressions (charioteer imagery); Her. 233 (88; 184–185); Fug. 69, 71–72: distinction mortal/immortal, rational/irrational soul parts, but admixture of soul is of sense/perception; Mos. 1.25–29: Phaedrus imagery, but charioteer in control of impulses; soul/body distinction dominant; Spec. 4.79: bridling impulses, reining them in like horses; QG 4.186: list of reason, spirit, appetite, nutritive soul part, sensory soul-part, body, external things. See also passion as “four-footed beast”, as in: Leg. 2.99; Agr. 73; Her. 269; Congr. 172; Abr. 236; Mos. 1.26; Spec. 4.79.25

II. Conceptual Analysis One can scarcely read a page of Philo’s writings without encountering the soul/body distinction (A). This distinction is his preferred shorthand rendering of the human condition, and of the challenges humans face: “justice and every virtue love the soul, while injustice and every vice love the body; that what is friendly to the one is utterly hostile to the other” (Her. 243). Philo tells us that body, sense-perception, speech, and mind are the four most important factors in us (Somn. 1.25, see B10; esp. Det. 159; Post. 55; Migr. 2; 195). This list could be accommodated by a variety of psychological models. At Spec. 1.211, he uses the language of “parts” (Bii.2). And at Migr. 137–138, the list is body, soul, sense-perception, and logos, with the strong injunction to “Know thyself ”. In Leg. 2.50, we read that when inferior senseperception leads the superior mind, the mind “resolves itself into the order of the flesh which is inferior, into sense-perception, the moving cause of the passions” (ναλ6εται ε9ς τ< χεSρον τ< σαρκ<ς γ0νος, τ/ν πα"8ν α9τ.αν αcσ"ησιν); when, on the other hand, mind leads “there will be flesh no more, but both of them will be mind” (οκ0τι Eσται σρξ, λλA μφτερα νοLς, trans. Colson/Whitaker; see also Leg. 1.33; Mut. 33). Truth be told, however, it is not the mind that does the leading, but the divine maker who implants the virtues in the soul (Leg. 1.49). That the soul/body distinction dominates Philo’s analysis also becomes apparent in passages subtly moving away from Plato’s account

25

C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et les passions”, cit.

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of passion as a conflict between different soul parts.26 Philo’s use of imagery from the Phaedrus, for instance, reveals that in some instances he focuses merely on the conflict between soul and body. In De gigantibus (12–15 and 30–31), he mentions souls that are free from the burden of the body and spend their days both looking up at the revolving heavens and hearing things divine, whereas incarnated souls “are constrained to stand rooted to the ground like four-footed beasts”. Philo leaves out the image of the soul’s charioteer and his two horses, and uses an aphorism derived from the Phaedo, of “dying to the life of the body”, as his vantage point (see also Plant. 25–26; Mos. 1.29; Somn. 1.139). Similarly, a passage like Mut. 29–32, in which Philo tells us that God did not form the soul of the bad, and that “in framing the soul which is in the intermediate stage He was not the sole agent”, seems to leave room for the Timaeus claim that the lower gods are responsible for spirit and appetite, not the Demiurge. Yet we do not find the expected reference to the tripartite soul in this context, but, again, one to the struggle between soul and body (33). Even in a parallel passage such as Fug. 69 that does mention the distinction between mortal/immortal and rational/irrational soul parts, the admixture is of sense-perception, 71 (κεκραμ0νου μετD α9σ"σεως, see also Conf. 179). At Spec. 1.219, Philo describes the function of the liver in terms that are analogous to the Timaeus (71) but without mentioning the desire part of the soul, using instead the theme of the sleep of body and senses allowing the mind to concentrate on its thoughts. The soul/body distinction is dominant, but within this configuration, the range Philo covers in his use of Phaedrus imagery is striking. The mind or reason bridles: the Platonic lower soul parts (see D); the senses (Det. 53–54); “faculties”, along the lines of a Posidonian position (Virt. 13, more on this below); “impulses” (as in Spec. 4.79; Leg. 3.128: reason versus spirit, located in breast, but spirit reckoned among “random impulses”, κρ.τοις :ρμαSς; Mos. 1.25– 29). At Migr. 67–68, which does display the tripartite soul-model with charioteer imagery, reason makes use of proper impressions, giving the passage a Stoic twist. For Philo, the senses are the mediators between the mind and the body/external world (B). In Mos. 2.81, he puts it as follows: “sense in mankind inclines on one side to things external, while on the other its trend is towards mind, whose handmaiden it is by the laws of 26 A. Méasson, Du char ailé de Zeus à l’Arche d’Alliance. Images et mythes platoniciens chez Philon d’Alexandrie (Paris 1987).

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nature” (trans. Colson; see also Leg. 1.29–30). Sense-perception is profoundly ambivalent: it participates in both body and soul.27 Philo aligns body and senses alike with earth (A3; B6). He can both talk about sense as “the most body-like part of the soul” (Congr. 21, see also QG 2.59) and use an expression like “the sensory soul” (Spec. 4.123). The senses can either serve the mind, as they are supposed to, or serve the body/externals and drag the mind along.28 In Sacr. 105–106, Philo tells us that the proper motions of the senses, in obedience to mind, come to pass through God’s will; clashes between the mind and the senses, on the other and, are our own doing.29 The senses are also more important than spirit ("υμς). As indicated already above (B3), in a key passage of the Timaeus (70b ff.) Plato allocates to spirit the role of guardian of the soul. Philo displaces this metaphor by applying it to the senses, substituting his dominant model for Plato’s. The displacement is very intricate in Spec. 4.92–93. Whereas at first glance Philo adheres to Plato’s model, the terms of protection and alliance are applied to just about everything except spirit: the head is the citadel for the sovereign mind, “where also are set the stations of the senses like bodyguards to their king, the mind”; spirit, far from giving protection to reason, is itself in need of a double protection, by the chest that functions as a breast-plate, and by the mind’s proximity, which comes to the aid of spirit by “soothing it into gentleness” (see also Leg. 3.115; Spec.1.145–148; QE 2.115). According to this description Philo ranks the senses higher than spirit and appetite (93–94, see also Leg. 1.68; 3.115). In Det. 85, following the Timaeus image of human beings being rooted with their head in heaven (90a–d), Philo connects not only the head and the mind to the circuits of heaven and air, but the senses as well, as the mind’s sentinels. By positing the body and malfunctioning senses as the cause of irrational behaviour, does Philo commit the fallacy of equivocation, because he overlooks the distinction between two senses of the word 27 QG 4.117–119, connected to the claim that the rational mind has an irrational brother in the soul, see also Migr. 3–7; Ebr. 69–70; Her. 184–185; for Philo’s use of irrational, see also below. 28 See esp. Leg. 3.221–222; Mut. 111, including reproductive power and speech, Conf. 133. 29 See also Agr. 80; Somn. 1.118; QG 2.52; Her. 109–110; Mut. 56; skepticism theme, below; Leg. 1.29, 40, 82–83, 91; 2.46; Conf. 125–127: God showers conceptions on the mind, and perceptions on sense; Fug. 133–136; Sacr. 97; Det. 82–83; Gig. 28–29; Fug. 135–136; God’s providence watching over proper impulses: QG 4.65–66; Praem. 104.

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‘irrational’, ‘lack of reason’ (under which ignorance falls) and ‘going against reason’ (with wickedness)? And does he also confuse the merely instrumental role of the senses with a ruling or guiding function, faculty or part of the soul, the very problem Plato warns against in the Theaetetus? Philo indicates that he is aware of these distinctions. At Sacr. 46–47 we read that unreasonableness is of two kinds. One is the unreasonableness that defies convincing reason, as when men call the foolish man unreasonable. The other is the state from which reason is eliminated, as with the unreasoning animals (trans. Colson-Whitaker).30

At 139 he distinguishes between weakness pertaining to the body and wickedness resulting from a wavering ruling principle in the soul. Philo could, of course, be aware of these distinctions without applying them consistently. I suggest instead, however, that we interpret his emphasis on the soul/body and mind/senses pairs as a hermeneutical strategy anchored in his broader convictions. A return to the Socratic position of a struggle between soul and body, which interferes with the proper functioning of reason, allows Philo to avoid controversies between different groups of philosophers, controversies that have become firmly entrenched in the doxographical material Philo would have used, but that are of no immediate interest to him, or, more importantly, and in keeping with his application of the skeptical mode,31 that cannot be resolved given human limitations. This in turn allows him to use the psychological model, whether Platonist, Stoic, or a mixed version, that suits his exegetical purpose best in any given context. Like Galen, who claims not to bother with the controversies over whether the soul is a corporeal entity or not, or whether it is immortal or not (De Hipp. et Plat. plac. 9, 588, 596 ff. De Lacy), Philo is quite willing to leave certain questions open. An author such as Calcidius, in turn, claims that if we allow for the soul to be incorporeal and to have no magnitude, it makes no difference whether we talk about its parts 30 διττ<ν εBναι π0φυκε τ< 2λογον, τ< μHν παρA τ<ν α?ροLντα λγον, Yς 2λογον τ<ν 2φρον φασ. τινες τ< δH κατD κτομ/ν λγου, Yς τ8ν ζGNων τA μ/ λογικ.

31 See V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie, cit., 184 ff. (with references to Bréhier, Heinemann, Goodenough, Wolfson and others); C. Lévy, “Le ‘scepticisme’ de Philon d’Alexandrie: une influence de la Nouvelle Académie?”, in A. Caquot, M. Hadas-Lebel, J. Riaud (eds.), Hellenica et Judaica, Hommage à Valentin Nikiprowetzky (Leuven–Paris 1986), 29–41.

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or its powers.32 It is essential to these authors’ mode of philosophy that one chooses one’s battles. As to the debate whether the ruling function is located in the head or in the heart, we have seen (C4) that Philo considers both options. His use of the expression that breath and the spoken word are “driven up” from the hegemonikon too is a trace of the Stoic view that the ruling principle of the soul is located in the heart.33 Another unsettled question is whether the soul is a fragment of the divine mind, the Stoic view (see C4), or rather a copy or an imprint of the divine, along Platonist lines. At Mut. 222–223 Philo indicates a preference for the latter (see also Plant. 18), but elsewhere he is willing to consider several options, using also “ray” (as in Opif. 165, Spec. 4.123). And when he writes about the soul’s and the mind’s connection to pneuma (C2), he displays a very wide range of possibilities. At Leg. 1.91 he draws attention to a theme that is crucial to him, about the limitations of human knowledge, pointing out that the mind cannot know its own substance and nature, whether it is a body or not, and that it is ignorant also, a fortiori, of God’s substance, here called the soul of the universe. For Philo the skepticism theme is inextricably linked to faith, and to the divine revelation on which it is based. This is how he puts it at Mut. 10: And why should we wonder that the Existent cannot be apprehended by men when even the mind in each of us is unknown to us? For who knows the essential nature of the soul (ψυχ3ς οσ.αν), that mystery which has bred numberless contentions among the sophists who propound opinions contrary to each other or even totally and generically opposed? (trans. Colson-Whitaker).

Insofar as the distinction between soul and body mirrors the crucial distinction in Philo’s Platonist perspective between the intelligible realm of the forms and the realm of the senses, his two-level ontology is not compatible with Stoicism. A passage at Conf. 133 expresses this aptly: Many too have exalted their senses, as though they were a tower, so that they touch the boundaries of heaven, that is symbolically our mind, wherein range and dwell those divine forms of being which excel all others. They who do not shrink from this give the preference to senses rather than to understanding. They would use perceptible things to

32 238. 3–5 (ed. Waszink): Sic ergo, cum anima quoque res sit sine corpore et sine magnitudine, nihil interest dicere partes animae et item potentias animae. 33 Deus, 84; Sacr. 74; Somn. 1.29 (cf. also Spec. 4.190); see Tim. 85c1; D.L. 7.159 = SVF 2.837.

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But in his views on the soul itself and the passions, the Platonist model is not more crucial than the Stoic one.34 And in order to register this point fully, we may reassess the evidence from Posidonius. The position which the doxographical tradition has attributed to Posidonius, as the dissident in the Stoic camp who reintroduced spirit and appetite, is merely one model among the ones Philo puts to use, not the key to understanding his particular version of Platonist psychology. At Leg. 3.115, Philo mentions the tripartite soul, but then adds that “some philosophers have distinguished these parts from each other in regard to function (δυνμει μνον), some in regard also to the places (τποις) which they occupy”. This echoes a doxographical pattern we find recorded later in Galen: (a) Plato, because he thinks the faculties of soul are separate in physical location (τοSς τποις) and differ very greatly in essence, reasonably terms them forms or species and parts. (b) Aristotle and Posidonius refuse the terms “forms” and “parts” of soul, and say that they are faculties (or capacities or powers, δυνμεις) of a single substance, with its base in the heart. (c) Chrysippus not only pulls anger and desire into a single substance, but also into a single faculty (trans. Kidd; F146 Edelstein-Kidd = Gal. De Hipp. et Plat. plac., 6.368.20–26).35

34 As C. Lévy, “Philon d’Alexandrie et les passions”, cit., says on the passions: “Paradoxalement, cette description platonisante ne constitue pas un rejet de la théorie stoïcienne, mais un moyen d’articuler platonisme et stoïcisme, selon des modalités diverses.” Or, concerning the image of “passion as a four-footed beast”: “À travers la réflexion sur le chiffre quatre … elle [la division stoïcienne] permet de connecter la théorie stoïcienne des passions à la description platonicienne de l’âme”. See also his groundbreaking “Le concept de doxa des Stoïciens à Philon d’Alexandrie: essai d’étude diachronique”, in J. Brunschwig–M. Nussbaum (eds.), Passions and Perceptions. Studies in Hellenistic Philosophy of Mind (Cambridge 1993), 250–284.

35 %Ο μHν οRν Πλτων κα1 τοSς τποις τοL σNματος κεχωρ.σ"αι νομ.ζων ατA κα1 ταSς οσ.αις πμπολυ διαλ(λ)ττειν ελγως εcδη τε κα1 μ0ρη προσαγορε6ειP : δD DΑριστοτ0λης τε κα1 : ΠοσειδNνιος εcδη μHν W μ0ρη ψυχ3ς οκ \νομζουσιν, δυνμεις δD εBνα. φασι μι=ς οσ.ας κ τ3ς καρδ.ας :ρμωμ0νηςP : δH Χρ6σιππος aσπερ ε9ς μ.αν οσ.αν, οTτως κα1 ε9ς δ6ναμιν μ.αν 2γει κα1 τ<ν "υμ<ν κα1 τ/ν πι"υμ.αν. Cf. also Posidonius F142;

Gal. De Hipp. et Plat. plac., 5, 312.29–34, as well as F143–145. On the broader context for this doxographical pattern, see J. Finamore “The Platonic Tripartite Soul and the Platonism of Galen’s On the Doctrines of Hippocrates and Plato”, in J. Finamore–

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If we compare Philo’s wording with Galen’s, it is likely that under “some philosophers have distinguished these parts from each other in regard to function (δυνμει μνον)” we could put Posidonius. The Posidonian position that matters in this context would be an opposition between rational/irrational aspects of the soul, with the latter including spirit and appetite. But Philo’s own use of the rational/irrational opposition and of the ‘parts’/‘powers’ language covers, again, a much broader spectrum.36 At Her. 232–233 Philo rewrites in Stoic terms an analogy between the human soul and the heavens that is based on the Timaeus, but in such a way that both the Platonic and Stoic models come out transformed, as I discussed elsewhere at greater length.37 He can discuss spirit and appetite both as the lower soul parts of the Platonist model (D1), as Posidonian δυνμεις (D2) or he can see them merely as passions, including appetite (πι"υμ.α) in a list that was commonly used by the Stoics (Bi, C8). He uses the binary model of rational and irrational soul parts that is prevalent in Middle-Platonism, but applies the language of parts to the senses as well, grouping the senses with the Stoic instrumental functions, as opposed to the hegemonikon (Bii, C7). For the Platonists, strictly speaking, the lower soul parts do not include the senses as such, though, as we have seen spirit and appetite are tied up with the body’s flux and sense-perception. And calling the seven Stoic instrumental functions (as opposed to the hegemonikon) “parts” (see, e.g., SVF 2.823; 824; 827; 828; 829; 830; 831; 832; 833), is altogether different from Plato’s “parts” model, which would indicate a split within the very ruling factor itself. Both the Platonist and the Stoic models are at the service of scriptural exegesis for Philo. This is very striking in contexts in which he switches from one to the other. In Spec. 4.79, for instance, in the context of a discussion of the tenth commandment, he talks about appetite in Stoic terms, as a passion, an excessive impulse and a movement that goes against the nature of the soul; yet he also includes language that reminds us of the Phaedrus image of the soul as charioteer with two horses. At 92 he introduces the full-fledged Platonist tripartite model, with great praise for “those who had taken no mere sip of philosophy

R. Berchman, Metaphysical Patterns in Platonism: Ancient, Medieval, Renaissance, and Modern (New Orleans 2007), 1–16. 36 It is worth remembering in this context that Aristotle himself in Eth. nic. 1102a28– 1103a1 appears to use the Platonic tripartition of the soul. 37 G. Reydams-Schils, Demiurge and Providence, cit., 157–163.

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but had feasted abundantly on its sound doctrines”, albeit in this curiously revised version, discussed above, in which Philo has transferred the role of guards from spirit to the senses. He clearly sees this model, in this context, as an improvement on his initial analysis in 79, but there is no hint in this sequence of a fundamental incompatibility between the Stoic and Platonist analyses of passion. In QG 4.215, applying the language of ‘parts’ in his interpretation of a line that refers to heaven and earth (Gen 27:28), he aligns the mind with heaven and sense-perception with earth, and he calls sense-perception irrational. In the next section, on Gen 27:29, the theme of serving leads him to mention the mind’s rule over spirit and appetite as irrational lower soul parts, leaving room, however, for the possibility that the soul may have more irrational parts than just these two. The treatise Legum allegoriae presents another transition of this kind. In his exposition of Gen 2:9 (1.56–62) the motif of the tree of life is central and in this section terms from Stoic psychology are predominant. In the next section, on Gen 2:10–14 (1.63–73), the four rivers allow Philo to develop an interpretation along the theme of the four virtues, in which the Republic framework and the Platonist tripartite model are central, but Stoic traces are present as well, as in the definition of courage (1.68; see also QG 1.10–13). At Leg. 3.114–117, on Gen 3:14, Philo establishes a very specific connection between the ‘breast’ and ‘belly’ of the Scripture line and the tripartite soul model, with the location of the soul parts in different parts of the body.38 Other passages establish a similar connection between body parts of sacrificial animals and the tripartite soul model (as in Spec. 1.145–148). But, again, granted that Philo’s choice for one psychological model over another is determined by the context of the Scripture passage upon which he happens to comment, this is not sheer randomness. The operative distinctions between soul and body, and mind and senses provide the higher hermeneutical vantage point for him, from which he can launch either into a tripartite soul model, of which the two lower parts are intimately connected to the body and sense-perception, into the Stoic model of the soul’s hegemonikon and its instrumental functions, or into a model that is mixed.

38 See also 3.123; QE 2.115; Migr. 66–69, in connection also with Lev 9:42; but contrast with QG 1.48.

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The epigraph I have used for this article, Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesin 4.99, shows a trace of Socrates’ presence, as the Silenus who is fair on account of his wisdom. Other scholars have explored the influence of Socrates through Philo’s recasting of the ‘Know Thyself ’ theme,39 or through the connection between Socrates’ perceived approach to philosophy and Philo’s own use of the skeptical mode. This article then posits another ‘Socratic’ influence, in Philo’s return to an analysis of passions as a conflict between soul and body, or between mind and senses. Like his Stoic and Middle-Platonist contemporaries or successors, Philo displays a renewed interest in the Socratic paradigm.40

39 As in: Leg. 2.69; Migr. 8; 136–138; Fug. 46–47; Mut. 54; Somn. 1.54–60; 209– 212; Spec. 1.10; 44, 263–265; QG 4.114. Cf. H.D. Betz, “The Delphic Maxim ΓΝΩΘΙ ΣΑΥΤΟΝ in Hermetic Interpretation”, Harvard Theological Review 63 (1970), 465–484; A. Nazzaro, “Il ΓΝΩΘΙ ΣΑΥΤΟΝ nell’ epistemologia filoniana” Annali della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia della Università di Napoli 12 (1969–1970), 49–86; J.-G. Kahn, “ ‘Connaistoi toi même’ à la manière de Philon”, Revue d’histoire et de philosophie religieuses 53 (1973), 293–307; P. Courcelle, Connais-toi toi-même de Socrate à Saint-Bernard (Paris 1974–1975), esp. 39–47; 395–398; 567–569; 645–648 (see also Courcelle, “Philon d’Alexandrie et le précepte delphique”, in R. Palmer–R. Hamerton-Kelly (eds.), Philomathes. Studies and Essays in the Humanities in Memory of P. Merlan (The Hague 1971), 245–250). R. Brague, La sagesse du monde. Histoire de l’expérience humaine de l’univers (Paris 1999), 95–98 has coined the notion of “socratisme abrahamique” in connection with Philo’s work. 40 I would like to thank Francesca Alesse, the editor of this volume.

PHILO OF ALEXANDRIA AND THE ORIGINS OF THE STOIC ΠΡΟΠΑΘΕΙΑΙ*

Margaret Graver There has been considerable interest in the Stoic doctrine of προπ"ειαι or “pre-emotions.”1 Belonging to the realm of emotion and yet not counted as emotions, the προπ"ειαι are directly relevant to two of our most pressing questions about Chrysippan emotion theory, namely ‘what exactly does it mean to say that emotions are voluntary?’ and ‘what level of affective experience is it that is excluded from the ideal human condition?’ For the προπ"ειαι are consistently defined as involuntary, rather than voluntary, responses, and the sage’s insusceptibility to emotions (π"εια) will not apply to responses which are not π"η. But reconstruction of the history and conceptual significance of the προπ"εια doctrine is fraught with difficulty because of the scarcity of texts clearly referring to it. Our most informative account, that of Seneca in De ira, 2.1–4, presents as Stoic doctrine (nobis placet, 2.1.3) a lengthy discussion of involuntary affects, which it calls “initial responses” or, at one point, “blows to the body,” arguing that these are the effects of impressions alone, without, or prior to, the mind’s endorsement of those impressions.2 Compatible with this, though not * This article is reprinted with minor corrections from Phronesis: A Journal for Ancient Philosophy, vol. 44 no. 4 (September 1999), 300–325. 1 The fullest recent treatments are those of B. Inwood, “Seneca and Psychological Dualism”, in J. Brunschwig–M. Nussbaum (eds.), Passions and Perceptions. Studies in Hellenistic Philosophy of Mind (Cambridge 1993), 164–181, and R. Sorabji, “ChrysippusPosidonius-Seneca: a High-Level Debate on Emotion”, in J. Sihvola and T. EngbergPedersen (eds.), The Emotions in Hellenistic Philosophy (Dordrecht–Boston 1998), 149–170. Important earlier treatments include, in primis, J.M. Rist, “Seneca and Stoic Orthodoxy”, ANRW II 36.3 (Berlin 1989), 1993–2012 and K. Abel, “Das Propatheia-Theorem: ein Beitrag zur stoischen Affektenlehre”, Hermes 111 (1983), 78–97. The question is also treated extensively in R. Sorabji, Emotions and Peace of Mind: from Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation (Oxford 2000). 2 Nobis placet is a regular Senecan formula for stating school doctrine. The theory presented in De ira, 2.1–5 is in my view considerably less innovative than has sometimes been claimed. Its chief novelty is in the emphasis given at 2.3.2 to the role of the body in emotion; on this point see 209 below. I differ from R. Sorabji, “ChrysippusPosidonius-Seneca”, cit., 154, and from some other scholars (e.g. P. Donini, Le scuole,

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congruent in every detail, is a somewhat later account by Epictetus, which speaks of “rapid and unplanned movements antecedent to the office of intellect and reason.”3 A brief passage in Cicero’s third Tusculan Disputation, dated to 45 BCE, exhibits some similarities of terminology to the Epictetus fragment and is usually thought to be relevant, though it lacks most of the more distinctive features of the Senecan account. But the fragmentary texts that survive from the earlier generations of Stoic writers do not provide us with any clear precedent for the material in Seneca and Epictetus. Thus while some scholars have been willing to follow Karlhans Abel in making προπ"ειαι a component of the original Stoic position, others have treated them as a late innovation, perhaps by Posidonius or even by Seneca himself.4 An early attestation for the term προπ"εια would in itself serve to corroborate one important feature of the Senecan account, and would, moreover, enable us to resolve a difficulty in that account. For although Seneca repeatedly speaks of “initial responses” (primi motus) and “preliminaries to emotion” (principia proludentia adfectibus), the examples he uses mostly concern phenomena which are in no way “preliminary” to emotions but merely stand in lieu of them, things like vertigo, stagefright, or responses to books or music, which, whatever their status, are l’anima, l’impero. La filosofia antica da Antioco a Plotino (Turin 1982), 188–189, B. Inwood “Seneca and Psychological Dualism”, cit., 154–161) on the interpretation of 2.4.1: the tertius motus is not anger but insanity, the feritas discussed in 2.5. Compare Cic. Tusc. 3.11, distinguishing insanity from susceptibility to emotion, but indicating that strong emotion may produce insanity as commonly understood. Sen. Ep. 113.18, which is sometimes cited in connection with De ira, 2.4.1 (e.g. by E. Holler, Seneca und die Seelenteilungslehre und Affektpsychologie der Mittelstoa (Kallmünz 1934), 22) does not appear to me to be relevant to this discussion. 3 Epictetus fr. 9, reported by Aulus Gellius, NA 19.1. Translations, except from Armenian, are my own unless otherwise noted. 4 Among those who have tentatively endorsed Abel’s view are A.A. Long–D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers (Cambridge 1987) vol. 2, 417, J.M. Rist, “Seneca and Stoic Orthodoxy”, cit. The claims of Posidonius are put forward in Holler, op. cit., 16–24 and later taken up by J. Fillion-Lahille, Le De ira de Sénèque et la philosophie stoïcienne des passions (Paris 1984), 163–169 (but cf. the objections of B. Inwood, “Seneca and Psychological Dualism”, cit., 165n.); they have recently been renewed in J. Cooper, “Posidonius on Emotions”, in J. Sihvola and T. Engberg-Pedersen (eds.), The Emotions in Hellenistic Philosophy, cit., 99 (also in J. Cooper, Reason and Emotion, Princeton 1994) and C. Gill, “Did Galen Understand Platonic and Stoic Thinking on Emotions?” in J. Sihvola and T. Engberg-Pedersen (eds.), The Emotions in Hellenistic Philosophy, cit., 129. Others have attributed the point to Sotion (M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa. Geschichte einer geistigen Bewegung (Göttingen 1949) vol. 1, 307–308) or Panaetius (P. Donini, Le scuole, l’anima, l’impero, cit., 188) or Seneca himself (I. Hadot, Seneca und die griechisch-römische Tradition der Seelenleitung (Berlin 1969), 133); cf. M. Griffin, Seneca. A Philosopher in Politics (Oxford 1976), 180–181.

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certainly not to be thought of as precursors to some further response. It is tempting, then, to think that Seneca’s terminology of “pre-emotions” was not invented to describe the phenomena he cites, but was merely adapted by him from a source which used the term προπ"εια. But the earliest use of the term that has been cited in this connection is by Plutarch, De tuenda sanitate praecepta, 127c and 128b, later than Seneca and in a rather disappointing passage which concerns medical symptoms rather than moral psychology. It is only in the early third century CE, in the biblical commentaries of Origen, that we find the word clearly connected to the concept described by Seneca and Epictetus.5 Without further evidence, we might be inclined to conclude that Seneca’s language is indeed innovative, and that Greek philosophy has here borrowed from Latin. But there is further evidence. For the προπ"ειαι are also known to the Jewish commentator Philo of Alexandria, an older contemporary of Seneca, and were used by him for the purposes of exegesis in his Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesim. A careful study of this work yields several close correspondences of thought with the sources usually cited in conjunction with the προπ"ειαι, and also one secure attestation for the Greek term itself. My purpose in this article is first to demonstrate the relevance to this problem in Stoic studies of four passages in Philo, only one of which is cited by von Arnim, and then, on the basis of this enlarged body of evidence, to sketch out one possible account of the role played by the προπ"ειαι in early Stoic emotion theory. The evidence must be treated with caution, for Philo, though he is familiar with Stoic positions on a number of subjects, is not himself a systematic philosopher. Concepts borrowed from Greek philosophy are repeated in his works with disconcerting abandon, frequently with little regard for their original intellectual context and frequently also 5 The exegetical utility which Philo found in the pre-emotion did not escape later Scriptural commentators committed to π"εια as a norm. Both Origen and Jerome make use of it at the point where Jesus “began to be sorrowful” in Gethsemane (Matth 26:37), and Origen develops from it a particularly elaborate explanation for the injunction to “be angry” (\ργ.ζεσ"ε) in Ps 4:5. Its utility and Christological significance is expanded especially by Didymus Caecus; see his comments on Eccl 7:9, 20; 10:3–4, 11:10; Ps 34:17, 36:24, 37:6, 38:12, 39:2, 40:6, Gen 6:10, and the note by J. Kramer– B. Kremmer (eds.), Didymos der Blinde: Kommentar zum Ecclesiastes (Tura-Papyrus) (Bonn 1972), vol. 4, 157–158. It is worth noting that all these commentators worked at Alexandria at least for a period and made some use of the QG, as also did Procopius; see D.T. Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature. A Survey (Assen–Minneapolis 1993), 157–183, 197–204, 210, 312–319; M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa, cit., vol. 2, 154.

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adapted or changed to suit his own exegetical purposes. We cannot, then, take Philo’s way of understanding a concept as direct evidence for its meaning in the early Stoa. Still, that Philo should know the προπ"ειαι at all is significant for the history of Stoic emotion theory. For this knowledge was gained, almost certainly, from Philo’s own reading in Stoic treatises of Hellenistic date, or from the knowledge of other readers in his philosophical community at Alexandria.6 It is true that Philo once visited Rome; indeed, on the basis of chronology he could conceivably have conversed with Seneca.7 But he was too early to read the De ira, and could not in any case have drawn everything he knows of the προπ"ειαι either from Seneca or from Cicero. Nor would the Roman Stoics be at all likely to consult his works. By far the simplest explanation for the various points of resemblance we find is that all concerned were drawing material from some earlier Stoic text. This means that even if we lack direct attestation for the προπ"ειαι in authors before Cicero, we can be reasonably certain they were there. More tentatively, we may also seek to learn from the manner in which Philo makes use of the προπ"ειαι. For although it can never simply be assumed that the concepts of Athenian philosophy will appear unchanged in his works, some at least of the connections he makes between one idea and the next are likely to have been made before. It will be worth our while, then, to pay attention to Philo’s assumptions about the constellation of ideas to which the προπ"ειαι belong and the exegetical functions they are suitable to fill. In particular, it is worth noting that Philo’s treatment of the προπ"ειαι is highly cognitive, taking them in the direction of involuntary thoughts, rather than of the involuntary corporeal movements which are sometimes assumed to have been their principal explanandum. Like Cicero, Seneca, and Epictetus, Philo also assumes that προπ"ειαι can be called upon to explain away apparent exceptions to the posited incompatibility of virtue and

6 A helpful overview of Philo’s life, works and philosophical milieu is provided in J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London 1977, 19962), 139–183, with bibliographical notes at 417–418, 438–441. For Philo’s use of Stoic concepts the fundamental work is that of M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa, cit., vol. 1, 369–378, vol. 2, 180–184. R. Radice–D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria: an Annotated Bibliography 1937–1986 (Leiden 1988) provides further bibliographical aids for the period from 1938–1986. 7 Philo’s visit took place in the winter of 39–40 (J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 139), whereas the earliest of the dates proposed for the De ira is 41, just before Seneca went into exile; see M. Griffin, Seneca. A Philosopher in Politics, cit., 398.

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emotion, taking advantage of a theoretical time-lag between impression and assent. And like Plutarch, and very probably Cicero, he perceives a close connection between προπ"ειαι and επ"ειαι or rational affects, which are likewise permitted to the sage. All these points need to be taken into account as we try to reconstruct the conceptual framework within which the concept of the προπ"εια evolved. Authentication of the term προπεια The full text of the Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesim (hereafter QG) is preserved only in Armenian. It belongs to a group of Armenian translations of works of Philo made in the fifth or sixth century CE by a single school of translators whose working methods were essentially the same: they produced calque translations, giving word-for-word the Greek syntax, word-order and even individual word-formations.8 The probability is thus quite high that the Armenian text of the QG faithfully reproduces Philo’s Greek (except where the fifth-century text was already corrupt), and there exist substantial surviving fragments in Greek to confirm this. However, not all the fragments attributed to this work by later Greek authors correspond closely with the Armenian text: a significant number, including many of those found in Procopius of Gaza, are paraphrases, or sometimes only loose parallels, rather than actual quotations.9 In preparing this essay, I have referred to the verbatim Greek fragments where these are available, and have otherwise followed the Armenian version, relying on a French translation by Charles Mercier (Philon d’Alexandrie: Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesim, 2 vols., Paris 1979) and, with somewhat less confidence, on an English translation by Ralph Marcus (Philo. Supplement 1. Questions and answers on Genesis, cit.)10 8 F. Petit, L’ancienne version latine des Questions sur la Genèse de Philon d’Alexandrie (Berlin 1973), 15–17, discusses the date and method of the Armenian translator. See also R. Marcus, Philo. Supplement 1. Questions and Answers on Genesis (London–Cambridge, Mass. 1953) v–vi. 9 J. Royse, The Spurious Fragments of Philo of Alexandria (Leiden 1991), 231–225; see also R. Marcus, Philo, Supplement cit., vol. 2, 179–180. 10 The older Latin translation by Aucher, reproduced in Mercier on facing pages, is still useful on occasion. Quotations from the Armenian are given here in Marcus’s translation, sometimes including in parentheses the presumed Greek equivalents for specific words which he gives in notes. English words in parentheses in his translation are, if I understand correctly, words needed to complete the sense but not corresponding to any single word in the Armenian. For deficiencies in Marcus’s rendering see

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Among the fragments which can be authenticated by comparison with the Armenian text is a single sentence preserved by Anton Melissa, which reads λπ.ς στι προπ"εια τις, χαρA πρ< χαρ=ς, γα"8ν οRσα προσδοκ.α, “Hope is a certain anticipation of joy, a joy before joy, being an expectation of good.”11 This corresponds closely with a sentence in QG 1.79, which reads, in Marcus’s translation, “And hope is a certain anticipation of joy; before joy there is an expectation of good.” The differences amount only to a single letter in the Greek (χαρ or χαρ=ς) or to two letters in Armenian (kh’ndout’yan or kh’ndoutyoon).12 Thus, although editors are divided as to whether the Greek should be emended to match the Armenian or the Armenian to match the Greek, they are unanimous in accepting the fragment as Philonian. The crucial word προπ"εια is therefore secure for Philo, as is a context concerned with the workings of emotion rather than, as in Plutarch, early symptoms of disease. Because of the uncertainty over the text, however, and because the passage at 1.79 is in any case rather brief and telegraphic, I think it best to defer any more precise interpretation of the word in its context until after we have reviewed the other passages in the QG in which the notion of προπ"ειαι appears to play a role.

Philo and the involuntary affects One passage from the QG was recognized already by Pohlenz as relevant to the προπ"εια question.13 At QG 4.73, Philo is commenting on Gen 23:2–3, the words “Abraham came to bewail Sarah and to mourn, and Abraham arose from his dead.” The words present a difficulty J. Paramelle, Philon d’Alexandrie: Questions sur la Genèse II 1–7: texte grec, version arménienne, parallèles latins (Geneva 1984), 60. 11 F. Petit, Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 33: Quaestiones in Genesim et in Exodum, fragmenta Graeca (Paris 1978), 73; PG 136, col. 789. 12 Khachig Tololyan kindly transliterated the Armenian words for me as printed by Mercier, vol. 1, 152; they are merely the nominative and genitive respectively of a noun meaning “joy.” According to J. Dillon–A. Terian, “Philo and the Stoic Doctrine of επ"ειαι: a Note on Quaes. Gen. 2.57”, The Studia Philonica Annual 4 (1976–1977), 18, this same noun can also function as an equivalent to Greek επ"εια; see note 28 below. 13 M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa, cit., vol. 2, 154. The passage was cited by von Arnim in connection with the sage’s unresponsiveness to evil (SVF 3.571). (It should be noted that von Arnim does not accept προπ"ειαι as belonging to the old Stoa.) P. Wendland (Neu entdeckte Fragmente Philos, Berlin 1891, 78) cites in relation to this passage a paraphrase in Greek by Procopius: Abraham’s reaction was a προπ"εια κα1 ο π"ος just because Abraham only “comes to mourn,” and “arises” without having mourned. As Pohlenz

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because Abraham is treated as an exemplar or type of virtue, which for Philo is incompatible with grief: “there is no mourning among incorruptible things, and wisdom is incorruptible, as is all virtue.”14 The difficulty is solved by noting that Scripture does not represent Abraham actually mourning Sarah, but only “coming there to mourn.” This language, he says, fitly represents what happens in the mind of the virtuous person in time of bereavement. But excellently and carefully does (Scripture) show that the virtuous man did not resort to wailing or mourning but only came there for some such thing. For things that unexpectedly and against his will strike the pusillanimous man weaken, crush and overthrow him, whereas everywhere they merely bow down the man of constancy when they direct their blows against him, and not in such a way as to bring (their work) to completion, since they are strongly repelled by the guiding reason, and retreat.

A contrast is drawn here between two types of character, the “pusillanimous man” (Mercier les petits esprits) and the “man of constancy” (Mercier celui qui est ferme). To explain how it is that the latter can be regarded as completely invulnerable to misfortune and yet can be said to have “come there to mourn,” Philo has recourse to a psychological analysis which distinguishes a particular mental event as definitive of grief. Both the ordinary and the virtuous person may be “struck” unexpectedly and against their will by “things”—i.e., by events (Mercier événements) perceived as unfortunate. Grief does not occur howrealized, the word προπ"εια here belongs to Procopius, not to Philo, and may reflect Procopius’s familiarity with intervening authors (Origen or Eusebius; see F. Petit (ed.), Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 33: Quaestiones in Genesim et in Exodum, cit., 168); Catenae Graecae in Genesim et in Exodum. Corpus Christianorum series Graeca, vol. 2 (Turnhout–Leuven 1977), 186–187. Still, it is not without significance that Procopius, who seems to have Philo’s comments before him, immediately refers the explanation we have here to the προπ"εια doctrine. 14 The difficulty is compounded by the fact that the presumptive mourning is for Sarah, who represents wisdom. Both virtue and wisdom are “incorruptible”; hence “Abraham arose” not from Sarah, but “from his dead.” It is hardly possible, then, for Abraham qua virtue to be separated from Sarah qua wisdom. Philo attempts to resolve this problem by pointing out that since wisdom is a kind of possession of virtue, it is at least possible for there to be a seeming separation, in which case it would be ‘natural’ that the virtuous person should have a response, though not a full emotional response. “In respect of those things which men are able to possess, and which (sometime) fail and are lacking, they must of necessity be grieved” (i.e. be disturbed in some way; Aucher gives aegre ferri). Marcus interprets differently, taking “those things which men are able to possess” to be ‘material things,’ but this fails to explain why Abraham should be troubled in this instance.

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ever, unless these things “bring their work to completion” in a further mental event described, with metaphorical violence, as if it were the knockout in a psychological boxing-match or the collapse of a building subjected to bombardment.15 In the virtuous person, this latter event does not take place because of the preeminence of reason, which judges correctly that no real misfortune has taken place. Such a person may indeed be affected in some way, but that is merely the experience of being ‘bowed down’ under the assault. It must be regarded as a different kind of phenomenon from what we identify as an emotion. It is not even a limited or moderate form of grief.16 This is recognizably the same sequence of steps as we find in fragment 9 of Epictetus. Like Philo, Epictetus contrasts virtuous and nonvirtuous characters under the assault of unexpected and involuntary perceptions of misfortune. Again like Philo, he argues that an emotion, in this case that of fear, cannot be said to occur in the virtuous person because, with the intervention of reason, a second mental event fails to take place. To these two events Epictetus assigns the standard Stoic terms “impression” (φαντασ.α) and “assent” (συγκατ"εσις), terms either missing or unrecognizable in this passage of Philo. But once more like Philo, Epictetus locates between impression and assent a special type of response which might be enough to puzzle the observer, but which nonetheless is not the emotion itself, even in limited degree. That is why, when some terrifying sound occurs, either from the sky or from the collapse of a building or as the sudden herald of some danger, even the wise person’s mind necessarily responds and is contracted and grows pale for a little while, not because he opines that something evil is at hand, but by certain rapid and unplanned movements antecedent to the office of intellect and reason. Shortly, however, the wise person in that situation withholds assent from those terrifying mental impressions … and spurns and rejects them and does not think that there is anything in them which he should fear.

15 Cf. Aul. Gell. NA 7.2.7–8 (SVF 2.1000), where the image is of a poorly-built house in a storm; Gellius’s version of Chrysippus’s cylinder-cone analogy immediately follows. Cicero, reporting Stoic definitions at Tusc. 4.14–15, similarly connects emotion with weak assent. 16 Note that Philo’s interpretation of the passage here differs significantly from that offered at Abr. 256–261. There Abraham is commended in Aristotelian terms for taking the advice of reason “to strive for moderate emotion (μετριοπ"εια), choosing the middle rather than the extremes.” Cf. Plut. Cons. Ap. 102d, Cic. Tusc. 3.12, both following Crantor of Soli; see F.H. Colson–G.H. Whitaker (eds.), Philo, 10 vols. (London– Cambridge, Mass. 1929–1962), vol. 6, 598–599.

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The resemblance between these two texts is too close to be accidental, and as Epictetus can hardly have derived his analysis from Philo, it seems inevitable that both draw upon material earlier than Philo. This finding is particularly significant because there has long been a doubt concerning the Stoic antecedents of Epictetus’s formulation. Aulus Gellius, who reports the fragment in NA 19.1, insists in this connection that Epictetus’s writings “are undoubtedly in accordance with those of Zeno and Chrysippus.” But this is hardly an attribution, and Gellius’s authority is in any case open to question. With the same sequence of ideas appearing in Philo, however, we have every reason to think that Epictetus is indeed reporting or perhaps even quoting an older Stoic source. And the Epictetan account has close verbal ties to the earlier discussions by Cicero and Seneca as well as to later material in Origen and others. There is a curious similarity, as well, in the purposes for which Gellius and Philo invoke the προπ"ειαι. The spokesman in Gellius is offering an interpretation of an event which appears to countervene Stoic doctrine. A “famous Stoic philosopher,” who might be expected to meet danger with equanimity, has given some indications of alarm during a storm at sea. The προπ"εια doctrine, as explicated by Epictetus, enables him to claim that these are evidence not of the π"ος of fear but of a blameless lesser response. For because the pre-emotion manifests itself in the same ways as an actual emotion, one who observes such manifestations must have recourse to some further criterion in order to determine whether a π"ος has in fact taken place. Hence it is sometimes of use to insist, as did Procopius, that the response is a προπ"εια rather than a π"ος.17 The προπ"εια κα1 ο π"ος idea is present also in Seneca, who observes repeatedly that stammering, paleness, and the like would not count as evidence of emotion in the sage (Sen. Ep. 11.1–2, 57.3–4, De ira, 2.2.2). What is most striking in the Gellius passage, however, is the hermeneutic function the concept is called upon to fill. It is just this strategy which Philo pursues in the case of Abraham’s apparent grief. This is not to say that the appeal to the προπ"ειαι serves the exegete merely as a general-purpose name-switching device. Like the Christian commentators who followed him, Philo employs it only where there is some textual warrant for positing a time-lag between impression and 17 For Procopius see note 13. Hence the Christological use of the προπ"εια developed by the later commentators; see note 5.

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assent, and seeks to bring out its therapeutic implications, as well as its exegetical utility. Thus in the continuation of QG 4.73 he draws a moral for the progressor. “When something happens against one’s will,” he says (i.e. when the involuntary impression occurs), one should neither be immobile, “fixed in prayer,” nor “entirely rapt and moved and drawn toward this” but should “somewhat gradually go toward it, and retire before the end is reached.” As examples of the externals which might ‘move’ an agent he gives “the possessions of others, or … the divisions [i.e. the genitals?] of women,” which suggest, respectively, the sins of theft and adultery. To prevent oneself from committing these, men should “think it sufficient [variant ‘proper’] to have been struck by these impulses, and … move away and take their stand upon the immovable and firm mind.” The connection between this assertion and the discussion of Abraham which immediately precedes is to be sought in the parallelism of desire with grief, as well as in the admission that it is not realistic to expect virtue to be completely unresponsive to powerful stimuli. Note that the kind of response that is expected—the “going somewhat gradually towards it” and the “having been struck by these impulses”—is not a moderated or limited desire, but a feeling which has not yet developed into desire. On this account, the mind does not merely forestall the wrong actions that are the most problematic manifestations of the emotional movement, but actually declines to feel those passions by withholding assent from the relevant impression. This is not quite a Stoic account, since it allows mental stability and firmness to the advanced progressor (the “man devoted to moral excellence”) as well as to the sage. But its Stoic affinities are, I think, unmistakable. In one passage at QG 1.55 Philo shows himself aware of the problems there might be in applying the προπ"εια κα1 ο π"ος approach to the divinity. Commenting on Gen 3:22, Philo points out a difficulty with the words “Lest perchance he put out his hand and take of the tree of life.” For the expression “lest perchance” implies an uncertainty, a being of two minds (νδοιασμς), which in God is an impossibility, and the apparent concern over Adam’s potential acquisition implies the emotion of envy (φ"νος), likewise impossible in God. The difficulty is resolved by referring the words to the psychology of the humans to whom Scripture is addressed. For this “lest perchance” is not an uncertainty on the part of God, but a transferral to the human, who is by nature prone to uncertainty, and an indication of the condition (or “emotion,” π"ος) that is in his case. For

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whenever there comes an impression of some thing, three things come to pass: an aversion from the object (φορμ), an impulse toward the object (:ρμ), and third, a being-of-two-minds (νδοιασμς), when one is drawn this way and that as to whether it is to be received or not. This “lest perchance” is directed at this third. The Deity, however, is without part in any evil and is not envious of immortality or anything else whatever in the case of the good man.18

In humans, impressions may be followed not only by assent or negation (what Philo seems to mean by :ρμ and φορμ) but also, temporarily, by a moment in which the response is difficult to predict.19 It is this moment of hesitation, this temporary ‘uncertainty,’ that in the 4.73 passage provides room for Abraham to experience a προπ"εια of grief. Had the words “lest perchance” been uttered by a virtuous human, Philo might have explained away the apparent breach in π"εια in the same way as he does for Abraham. But this strategy is not available here, for Philo is not willing to attribute even momentary uncertainty to God. Thus it is in order to preserve the fully omniscient π"εια of the divinity that he now abandons his analysis in terms of impression 18 Up to the penultimate sentence I translate directly from the Greek fragment, F. Petit, Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie vol. 33A: Quaestiones in Genesim et in Exodum, cit., 54–55, which differs slightly from the Armenian text. The last sentence is Marcus’s, from the Armenian. 19 This interpretation assumes that φορμ, :ρμ, and νδοιασμς are not three successive mental events, but three possibilities, with uncertainty put last because of its importance to the point under discussion. But this use of :ρμ and φορμ is not the regular use in Stoicism, and νδοιασμς is not a Stoic term at all. If the Greek text is right, Philo must be making a rather strange combination of (so-called) Platonic notions of mental conflict with the Stoic norm of π"εια. Of course Philo is perfectly capable of this. It is worth noting, however, that the Armenian version, though less authoritative, is closer to Stoic thought:

Whenever there comes to someone an appearance of something, there immediately follows an impulse toward the appearance, of which the appearance is the cause. And (so comes) the second uncertainty of one who is in doubt, and is drawn here and there in spirit, whether the appearance is to be received or not. Here the “impulse … of which the appearance is the cause” cannot be the usual Stoic :ρμ, since in adult humans :ρμ is always caused by assent, never by the presentation itself. It could however be a προπ"εια, using the term :ρμ loosely, as Seneca uses

impetus in De ira, 2.1.3–4, of an “impulse which is stimulated without our volition,” which “follows immediately upon the presentation.” The word “second,” which creates much of the difficulty over the text, can perhaps be explained as part of an exegetical, rather than temporal, sequence: the “first” uncertainty, which would be God’s, having been ruled out, the exegete turns to a “second” possible explanation for “lest perchance,” that it refers to uncertainty in humans. Marcus’s parenthetical supplement “so comes” must then be wrong.

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and assent and proceeds to invoke a different principle, that of sayings included “for the purpose of instruction.”20 In another passage, the gap between impression and assent proves capacious enough to provide an excuse for articulate thoughts, so long as those thoughts do not produce any observable action. This is at QG 3.56, commenting on Gen 17:17. Here the problem is that Abraham, by thinking to himself, “Shall a son be born to a centenarian, and shall Sarah bear at ninety years?” seems to relinquish his characteristic faith in God. Philo rescues Abraham’s faith by drawing a distinction between words spoken aloud and words spoken “in the mind”; the latter, he says, may be involuntary, and there is no moral responsibility for them. Not ineptly or casually are added the words “he said in his mind.” For unworthy words spoken by tongue and mouth fall under transgressions and punishment. But those which are in the mind are not at all guilty. For involuntarily does the mind show arrogance when various desires come upon it from various directions and there are times when it resists these and disputes with them resentfully, and seeks to avoid their appearances.

The language of assault and resistance is similar to what we have seen in QG 4.73, as is the claim that there is no voluntariness, and hence no culpability, in the initial effect of impressions. It is interesting, however, to find that effect taking the form of articulate thought. For this we have a likely parallel in Seneca, who in De ira, 2.3.4 is willing to count not only a thought that one has been wronged but even a desire for revenge as mere προπ"ειαι of anger, provided that the impression is immediately disputed and assent withheld.21 Philo’s discussion of involuntary thoughts here should also be compared with his comments on this same Genesis passage in Mut. 177–187. 20 Very similar exegetical principles are at work in QG 2.54, where Philo attempts to explain an apparent case of divine regret (μεταμ0λεια). In that passage, for which a Greek fragment is extant, Philo expands on the epistemological difference between humans, whose cognitions are “weak and unstable” (σ"ενεSς κα1 β0βαιοι), and God, for whom “nothing is indistinct, nothing non-kataleptic” (2δηλον … κατληπτον). Since these are terms familiar from Stoic epistemology as marking the distinction between ordinary humans and sages, we might wonder how it is that Philo’s virtuous humans retain the capacity for uncertainty, and for προπ"ειαι, while God does not. 21 Sen. De ira, 2.3.4: “A person forms a thought (putavit) that he has been injured, and conceives a wish (voluit) to avenge himself, but some other consideration dissuades him, and he immediately settles down: I do not call this anger, for it is a psychic movement obedient to reason, but that is anger which overleaps reason, and carries one away with it.”

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In that context, he emphasizes the point that the faithless thought is of short duration; it results, apparently, from the rapidity of the mind in outstripping its own better judgment. But where many others might be “overturned by the violence and impetuosity of error,” in the good man the moment of incredulity is only momentary, a “trace or shadow” (181), “a slight turning, instantaneous and indivisible, not perceptible by the senses, but only by the mind, and, as it were, outside of time” (180). The De mutatione nominum passage is complex, combining several traditions of thought, and cannot by any means be treated as evidence for Stoic doctrine. But given the similarity of this “slight turning” to Epictetus’s “rapid and unplanned movements,” it seems safe to say that a significant element in Philo’s thinking here is attributable to his knowledge of the προπ"εια doctrine. Since Philo is clearly interested in involuntary movements, we might have expected him to make some kind of mention of involuntary ‘corporeal’ movements such as trembling, sexual arousal, or changes of facial expression.22 Indeed, it has sometimes been suggested that the προπ"εια story was devised primarily in order to provide an explanation for such phenomena. But the corporeal movements are conspicuously absent from the passages we have studied here. This does not, of course, mean that they cannot have played a role in the Stoic discussion. Corporeal movements are mentioned in many of our other sources: paleness and change of expression in the Epictetus fragment, blushing and stammering in Seneca’s eleventh letter, change of color, gooseflesh, and darkness before the eyes in the fifty-seventh, and paleness, tears, sexual arousal, sighs, and changes of expression in De ira, 2.3.2. Sexual arousal and increased heartbeat are also mentioned by Aristotle in connection with involuntary affect.23 We see in Philo, however, that it is perfectly possible to be interested in the psychology of προπ"ειαι without invoking them in explanation of the corporeal movements.

22 ‘Corporeal’ in quotation marks because in Stoicism no response is truly corporeal; even Seneca, who refers to these in De ira, 2.3.2 as corporis pulsus, corrects himself a line further on and makes them animi ictus. 23 Arist. De an. Γ 9, De motu an. 11; see M. Nussbaum, Aristotle’s De motu animalium (Princeton, NJ 1978), 382.

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Other passages in the QG suggest that for Philo the language of προπ"ειαι is closely associated with another Stoic notion, that of επ"ειαι, literally “good emotions” but better called rational affects, since an επ"εια is not, properly speaking, a π"ος at all.24 That Philo knows the term επ"εια is not difficult to show, since at Migr. 137 he calls joy “the best of the επ"ειαι.” There is ample evidence, also, to show that in several of his works he adheres reasonably closely to a Stoic understanding of what a rational affect might be. My particular interest here, though, is in a small group of passages from the QG which suggest that the notions of προπ"ειαι and επ"ειαι are closely connected in Philo’s mind. Taken together with the parallel texts from Rome, these provide further clues to the history of the concept. Philo regularly excludes ordinary emotions from the experience of the divinity and from virtuous humans; as we have seen, passages which seem to attribute strong emotions to God or to virtuous humans present a problem to the exegete. But this does not mean that either virtue or divinity is stripped of all affect, for the experience of joy (χαρ) is not only compatible with virtue but highly characteristic of it. In fact, according to QG 4.19, 4.101, and a number of other passages, joy is restricted to the passionless sage and the divinity; in humans, it depends on a perception of the indwelling presence of God, the only genuine good. The distinction between joy and the ordinary emotion of delight or pleasure is laid out at QG 4.15–16, commenting on Gen 18:11–12, “There ceased to be with Sarah the ways of women … and Sarah laughed within herself.” Philo explains that “the ways of women” means not only menstruation but “womanly opinions” and “the bestial (or irrational) passions, fear, sorrow, pleasure and desire, from which ensue incurable weaknesses and indescribable diseases.” Sarah laughs because she is “about to be filled with joy and divine laughter,” which is the regular accompaniment of that passionless and properly masculine state of mental strength and stability which is virtue. When the mind is moved, it does not know laughter, except perhaps for its visible appearance, until a firm foundation is laid for a very strong and stable position; for, in the fashion of the science of agriculture, virtue does 24 The most informative Stoic texts on επ"ειαι are Cic. Tusc. 4.12–15, D.L. 7.116 and ps. Andron. Περ1 πα"8ν 6 (SVF 3.432). For Philo’s use of the concept see M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa, cit., vol. 1, 376.

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not appear only on the surface and lose its flowers, but it always lasts a long time in a flourishing state, being held together by an invisible bond. Similarly does (Scripture) introduce the high priest rejoicing inwardly and released from all corporeal thoughts and entering into joy, for it says, “and seeing thee he will rejoice within himself.”

Such remarks bring Philo’s conception of joy very much into line with the Stoic description of joy as one of the rational affects or επ"ειαι. For the επ"ειαι are similarly distinguished from the four generic emotions of fear, sorrow, delight (+δον), and desire and are restricted to the sage. In Stoic terms, the επ"εια of joy is similar to delight in that it is a response to an impression of present goods, but differs from delight in being a fully rational response to the presence of a genuine good for humans, that is, to virtue itself. It is, as Seneca says, “the expansion (elatio) of a mind confident of goods which are its own, and real” (Ep. 59.2).25 And only the sage can experience the presence of virtue. Now, it is of some interest that Sarah, unlike Abraham, has not yet entered into the fully virtuous state in which alone joy will be possible. For in the continuation of Gen 18:12, she remarks, “Not yet has anything happened until now, and my lord is old.” This makes her laughter a phenomenon of transition, and somewhat more difficult to explain. On this Philo remarks at first, in the passage above, that while she cannot properly “know laughter,” she may perhaps know “its visible appearance.” He struggles to explain her remark: it is true of Sarah that “having wholly forgotten passion through teaching, she has begun to rejoice,” but nonetheless “she is not yet perfect in attaining the end of perfect joy.” Not until the following section (QG 4.17) does he arrive at a satisfactory solution. There he contrasts Sarah’s laughter, which earns a kind of rebuke from the angel, with that of Abraham, which is not rebuked. The difference between them, he says, is that Abraham, as the exemplar of faith, has already attained a state of knowledge. But Abraham was delivered and, as it were, escaped rebuke and reprobation, being secured by an unswerving and inflexible conviction of faith, for to him who has faith in God all uncertainty is alien.

Abraham’s laughter, then, must be the ‘divine laughter’ of the virtuous, while Sarah’s laughter comes from a state of uncertainty which precedes the attainment of virtue. 25 See T. Brennan, “The Old Stoic Theory of the Emotions”, in J. Sihvola and T. Engberg-Pedersen (eds.), The Emotions in Hellenistic Philosophy, cit., 54–57.

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It is in this context that we need to confront the peculiar claim of QG 1.79, that hope is “a προπ"εια of joy.” The passage is very short, and may be quoted in full: Why did Seth’s son Enosh hope to call the name of the Lord God? Enosh is interpreted as ‘man.’ And this is now taken, not as a mixture, but as the logical part of the soul, the mind, to which hope is peculiarly fitting, for irrational animals are bereft of hope. And hope is a certain anticipation (προπ"ει τις), a joy before joy, being the expectation of goods.26

The interest of this bit of Scripture (Gen 4:26) for the exegete lies not in any particular problem or contradiction but in the word “hope” itself and in the connections between hope and being human (the meaning of the name Enosh; cf. the “generations of men” mentioned in the next verse). The parallel passage in Det. 138–139, though it lacks the word προπ"εια, is otherwise helpful in filling out the thought here. There Philo has just finished explaining that real joy is experienced only and always by the wise, since it is directed at ‘the virtues of the mind’ and not at externals such as health or wealth. Gen 4:26, he claims, shows that hope is likewise restricted to the wise. For hope is an expectation of good things, and real goods come from God, so that it is characteristic (ο9κεSος) for the wise person to hope, while those who do not hope in God do not have a rational nature and are not properly said to be human. QG 1.79 carries this somewhat further: “Enosh” is again interpreted as “man” in the sense of human rationality, and hope is again restricted to rational beings and closely associated with joy. But the word προπ"εια is added as well, clarifying the (for Philo) essential point that insofar as hope is characteristic of normative human rationality it cannot be a π"ος, since the π"η are by definition irrational. That is, he resorts to the concept as a way of validating his Stoicized conception of the human end in combination with the Scriptural witness. We might wonder, though, why hope should be called only a προπ"εια and not an επ"εια in its own right. For just as Stoic theory classifies emotions according to their perception of their objects as good or evil and as present or prospective, so also there is an επ"εια directed at prospective goods, namely βο6λησις or rational wishing. Philo was familiar with this classification, as we shall see in the next passage to be discussed. Why then does he not describe λπ.ς as a species of βο6λησις? 26 I have adapted Marcus’s translation here to match the Greek fragment, rather than the Armenian.

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Perhaps he reasons that hope, more than desire or wishing, requires a certain element of uncertainty; i.e., that it necessarily stops short of assent. If I believe that a particular good is in prospect for me, I may desire or wish for that good, but what I feel is then no longer hope. Philo’s contemporary Paul says something very like this when he points out that hope is necessarily “of things not seen, for who hopes for what he sees?” (Rom 8:24). This is not, so far as we know, a Stoic formulation. Philo may well have taken the phrase “expectation of goods” from Stoicism, since in Abr. 14, again commenting on this same verse in Genesis, he pairs hope, as an expectation of goods, with fear as an expectation of evils, exactly as Cicero does, reporting Stoic doctrine, at Tusc. 4.80.27 In making this expectation a προπ"εια, though, he goes beyond any Stoic text that we have, appropriating Stoic philosophy, to be sure, but also adding some embroidery of his own. Considerably better, from a Stoic standpoint, is a list of επ"ειαι found at QG 2.57. The Scriptural text this time relates God’s instructions to the family of Noah, that “Every reptile that lives shall be to you for food” (Gen 9:3). Philo has already asserted, in his comment on the previous verse, that “reptiles” are a symbol of the “poisonous passions” of fear, desire, grief, and pleasure. How, then, can they be enjoined by God as food? Philo circumvents this difficulty by distinguishing two types of passions: The nature of reptiles is twofold. One is poisonous, and the other is tame … This is the literal meaning. But as for the deeper meaning, the passions resemble unclean reptiles, while joy (resembles) clean (reptiles). For alongside sensual pleasures there is the passion of joy. And alongside the desire for sensual pleasure there is reflection. And alongside grief there is remorse and compunction (literally ‘biting and contraction’). And alongside desire there is caution. Thus, these passions threaten souls with death and murder, whereas joys are truly living, as He Himself has shown in allegorizing.

Desire occurs twice, and as Philo regularly uses the standard Stoic list of four genus-emotions, and indeed has just referred to it only a paragraph earlier, we should not hesitate to read “fear” in place 27 On the Stoic credentials of Cic. Tusc 4.80 see M. Graver, Cicero on the Emotions: Tusculan Disputations 3 and 4 (Chicago 2002), ad loc. The Cicero passage gives us no reason to consider hope a προπ"εια, though it might be an επ"εια. Fear is certainly an emotion, unless there is a second term (like ‘startling’) lurking behind the translations.

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of the second “desire,” assuming that π"ος must have appeared in error for φβος in the text which the Armenian translator had before him.28 Once this correction is made, we have a list of correspondences between bad π"η and good επ"ειαι which in three of its four items is exactly the same as occurs in a number of Stoic texts: pleasure corresponds to joy, desire to “reflection” (a reasonable rendering for βο6λησις or “thoughtful wishing”), and fear to caution. The item supposed to correspond to grief, however, is problematic: “biting and contraction,” the literal rendering, is not strictly analogous to joy, reflection, or caution, and Marcus by his own admission has resorted to bending the sense of the Armenian words in order to obtain a smooth rendering. But would the virtuous person experience an emotion corresponding to grief in any case? If Philo is to adhere strictly to the model which associates επ"ειαι with internal goods and evils, then there should be no “clean emotion” directed at present evils, since a person who has vice present to him cannot be virtuous. It is for this reason that the central Stoic texts on επ"ειαι list only joy, βο6λησις, and caution, leaving the category of present evils empty. On the other hand, “biting” and “contraction” are both words regularly used by Stoics in connection with grief; only, these name the psychophysical ‘effect’ of grief, not an επ"εια corresponding to grief.29 Moreover, there are two sources for Stoic doctrine which make exactly the same supplement to the επ"εια list as Philo has made here. Plutarch, at De virt. mor. 449a, complains that Stoics indulge in nameswitching to gloss over the difficulties in their position on π"εια. They themselves, yielding, in a way, to the obvious truth of these arguments, call shame ‘modesty,’ pleasure ‘joy,’ and fears ‘cautions.’ … Refuted by their tears and tremblings and changes of color, they say, instead of grief and fear, ‘bitings’ and ‘troublings,’ and use ‘eagernesses’ as a euphemism for desires. In doing this they seem to be inventing sophistical, rather than philosophical, ways of evading and escaping the facts through words.

28 The same suggestion is made in J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 151–152. J. Dillon–A. Terian, “Philo and the Stoic Doctrine of επ"ειαι”, cit., include φβος and also επ"εια (in place of the first and third occurrences of “joy” in Marcus’s version) in a proposed reconstruction of the Greek text. Although I have given Marcus’s translation here, simply rendering the Armenian as it stands, I think the Dillon-Terian reconstruction is likely to be correct, save only that the paired terms “biting” and “contraction” should both be retained. 29 “Biting” (δ3ξις) is used by both Zeno and Chrysippus in connection with the

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Plutarch includes in his list two of the three items listed by Philo as ‘clean’ emotions, and like Philo attempts to give a uniform treatment to all the phenomena not counted as (bad) emotions. By mentioning the corporeal movements, however, and by listing fear twice, he betrays that he is in fact combining what for Stoics would be two different classes of reactions, επ"ειαι in the case of modesty, joy, and caution, and προπ"ειαι in the case of “bitings,” and probably also the obscure “troublings” and “eagernesses.”30 In Plutarch’s mind, clearly, the προπ"εια and επ"εια notions tend to blur into each other, or can be made to do so where it serves one’s own rhetorical ends. As the επ"εια list does not include an analogue for grief, it is natural for him, trying to fill out the list of Stoic euphemisms, to mention “bitings” at this point. For a more careful version of the same substitution, we may look at two passages in Cicero’s Tusculanae disputationes, one at 3.82–83 and the other at 4.12–15. If we discount the intervening preface to Book 4, the two passages are contiguous: one makes the last substantive point in Book 3, the other the first substantive point in Book 4. The Book 4 passage explains the difference between π"η as impulses contrary to reason and επ"ειαι as strictly rational affects occurring only in the sage. It lists also the standard correspondences, noting that while there are four primary π"η, fear, desire, grief, and delight, there are only three primary επ"ειαι. It is apparently for this reason that fear, desire, and delight are to be treated separately from grief, which formed the subject-matter of Book 3. But does the sage have no reaction at all to grievous circumstances? This is the question is answered in the previous passage, at the end of Book 3: Grief of any kind is far removed from the wise person, because it is an empty thing, because it serves no purpose, because it has its origin not in nature, but in assent or opinion and in a kind of invitation we issue to ourselves when we judge that we have an obligation to grieve. Once this completely voluntary belief is removed, grief will be eliminated—

“effects,” apparently as an equivalent to “contraction” (συστολ); see Gal. De Hipp. et Plat. plac. 4.3.2 and 5.1.4 (SVF 1.201). 30 For modesty (α9δNς) as an επ"εια see ps.-Andron. Περ1 πα"8ν 6 (SVF 3.432), which treats it as a species of ελβεια. Clear parallels for “troublings” (?συν"ροσεις) and “eagernesses” (προ"υμ.αι) are not attested; I take the former to be the προπ"εια corresponding to φβος, as described in the Epictetus fr. 9, and the latter to be the προπ"εια corresponding to πι"υμ.α; compare the επ"εια of ε"υμ.α, in ps.Andronicus’ list.

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margaret graver the real, unhappy grief, that is, but there will still be a ‘biting,’ or slight contraction of the mind. This last they may indeed call ‘natural,’ provided they do not use the name ‘grief.’ For that is a serious, awful, deadly name, which cannot by any means coexist or, as it were, live together with wisdom.

The missing επ"εια is once again replaced with something which bears a certain resemblance to emotion—since ‘biting’ and ‘contraction’ are alternative descriptions of the effect of grief—but which is considerably less than a full affective response. Origins of the προπεια doctrine Difficult and confused as they are, Philo’s comments on the mechanisms of grief, joy, uncertainty and hope do provide us with some usable information as to the history of the προπ"ειαι in the period before Seneca. They show, at the very least, that the concept was already well developed before the De ira was written, and that at least those points which Philo shares with Cicero must be earlier than the Tusculan Disputations as well. This is already a positive result. And the evidence of Philo may also be helpful to us in interpreting some of the testimonia which have been cited as possibly relevant to the development of the προπ"εια concept in the Hellenistic period. For where Philo shows the same understanding as later authors independent of him, we can begin to see the outlines of a cluster of associations which must have surrounded this term from a relatively early date. If we now take that cluster of ideas and break it down into a series of small developments, we will have a useful summary with which to compare the earlier testimonia. I take it that all of the following are material and, in theory, separable elements in the discussion: (1) As part of an effort to clarify what is and is not covered by Stoic claims about the psychology of the passions, some author concedes the existence, even in the normative human, of involuntary psychophysical responses or ‘feelings,’ but denies that these should be called emotions, arguing that as these feelings have no practical consequence, they do not pose any problem for Stoics wishing to treat emotion as a type of (voluntary) action. (2) A causal explanation is provided for the responses identified in (1). As this must not include the crucial item of assent, it is said

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either that they are caused directly by impressions, or that they are simply part of the impressions themselves, what it ‘feels like,’ as it were, to entertain a certain impression. A material explanation is provided for the responses identified in (1): they are said to be miniscule and short-lived versions of the same effects which belong to emotions proper, i.e. contractions or “bitings,” expansions, aversions, and extensions of the πνεLμα. The corporeal movements of pallor, trembling, changes of expression, and so on are offered as representatives of the class of responses identified in (1), or as observable manifestations of such responses. It is suggested that the unassented response to an impression, as in (2), might be useful to progressors as a warning to withhold assent from that impression and thus avoid emotion. The term προπ"εια is assigned to the responses identified in (1), probably in the context of (5), which lays special emphasis on the temporal sequence from προπ"εια to π"ος. In answer to a question on the topic of επ"ειαι, some author points out that although there is no ‘good’ analogue for grief, the sage is not completely devoid of reaction to what most people consider grievous circumstances; he or she may still experience a feeling which consists only in a momentary ‘biting’ or ‘slight contraction.’

The numbering here is primarily for the sake of convenience, and does not represent any assertion as to the order in which these various moves were made. However, it is clear that some moves are conceptually prior to others. Moves (2) through (7) can hardly have been made before (1), though they might be concurrent with it, while (7) must be subsequent to both (1) and (3), and (6) would seem to presuppose (5). But a single author might well be responsible for several of these small innovations, or even for all of them. On the basis of the passages cited above, we can say with confidence that moves (1), (2), (5), (6), and (7) had already been made in texts available for Philo to read, and (7) presupposes (3). Move (4) is not confirmed by Philo; however, Philo’s silence would by no means be a sufficient reason to think that (4) is later than the others, and the importance of the corporeal movements to Seneca, who certainly knows (1) and (2) and probably also (5) and (6), justifies their inclusion here.

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Can we also attach the names of known figures to any the steps listed here? I do not believe that we can. A passage in Seneca, cited by Abel, might be taken to attribute (1) to Zeno himself: When the sage is in such circumstances, will not his mind be touched? Will he not be more than usually upset? I admit it: he will feel a slight and superficial affect, for, as Zeno says, in the sage’s mind also there remains a scar even after the wound is healed. Thus he will feel certain suspicions and shadows of the emotions, but will lack the emotions themselves.31

Unfortunately, Seneca’s report does not make it clear whether the entire point is being attributed to Zeno, or only the aphorism about the scar, and there is no obvious reason why the προπ"ειαι as known to us from other sources should be called scars of previous passions. Abel mentions also a fragment of Chrysippus which may give intimations of the προπ"εια κα1 ο π"ος idea we have seen in Philo and others: “the sage feels pain, but is not proved-by-torture (βασαν.ζεσ"αι), since he does not yield mentally; he fears, but does not accept.”32 This, again, concerns at most (1) only: it concedes that there are some feelings which can safely be attributed to the sage, and claims that these come short of assent, but lacks any special terminology by which those feelings can be marked as different from π"η. In another context, Chrysippus is said by Galen to have discussed a question about involuntary weeping and laughter.33 This point seems to have come up during his treatment of the causation of emotions proper, where it is the inverse of the point about the fading of grief over time which is mentioned by Cicero in Tusc. 3.53 and 3.74. If Chrysippus was seriously concerned to explain the causes of involuntary weeping and laughter, then he was in effect dealing with (2) and (4), though Galen does not report that he made any progress on the issue. But all of this is tenuous. There may still be reason to suspect that the προπ"εια concept belongs to the founders, given that both Zeno and Chrysippus were strongly interested in reserving the term π"ος for assented phenomena. But the evidence we have does not seem to me to justify attributing the point to either of them by name. Sen. De ira, 1.16.7 (SVF 1.215); see K. Abel, “Das Propatheia-Theorem”, cit., 89. Stob. Flor. 7.21 (SVF 3.574); see K. Abel, “Das Propatheia-Theorem”, cit., 90–91. 33 Gal. De Hipp. et Plat. plac. 4.7.16–17 (SVF 3.466). Chrysippus refers the phenomenon to “some additional condition which is difficult to reason out.” See further R. Sorabji, “Chrysippus-Posidonius-Seneca”, cit., 157–158. 31 32

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In the case of Posidonius we do at least have one fragment which can easily be connected to the προπ"εια discussion. This is ps. Plut. De lib. et aegr. 4–6 (154 Edelstein-Kidd): Posidonius says that some things are psychic and some corporeal, and some are not psychic but are corporeal-in-association-with-the-mind, and some not corporeal but psychic-in-association-with-the-body (περ1 σ8μα ψυχικ). The ones he calls purely psychic are those involved in judgments and suppositions, such as desires, fears, and angers, while the purely corporeal ones are fevers, chills, thickenings, and thinnings; corporeal-in-association-with-the-mind are lethargies, melancholy fits, bitings, impressions, and hilarities; psychic-in-association-with-the-body are tremblings, palenesses, and changes of expression due to fear or grief.

With all three of Posidonius’s περ1 σ8μα ψυχικ reappearing in De ira, 2.3.2, it is hard not to think that this passage is to be connected in some way with (4).34 But the context within which those three items are mentioned does not provide us with any of the expected discussion about impression and assent. We do not know, from this, whether Posidonius treated a number of points including (4), added (4) to other points already established, established a list which would only later be combined with (4), or challenged the validity of what some other author had written on (4). And it is an awkward fact that the one element more or less securely connected to Posidonius is the very point which receives no consideration in Philo. This last point may not in itself be very significant, since the corporeal manifestations could easily have been a part of the προπ"εια discussion from its inception. (The passages in which Aristotle anticipates the point (above, 209) would seem to support that view.) It does mean, however, that if we are still inclined to name Posidonius as the originator of the Stoic tradition on προπ"ειαι, it will have to be because we think the doctrine as a whole (and not just the corporeal manifestations element) is somehow intrinsically related to concerns which we know to have been specifically Posidonian. And there is no particular reason we should insist on this.35 For although Posidonius had, certainly, the 34 On the problems with the fragment see I. Kidd, Posidonius, vol. 2. The Commentary (Cambridge 1988), 560–562. 35 See note 4. In questioning whether Posidonius can have been the originator of the doctrine, I do not mean to say that he cannot have treated the point, or that his version of it cannot have been influential. I only want to observe that Posidonius’s attested interest in the corporeal manifestations of emotion does not suffice to make him the originator of any other elements of the discussion.

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right sorts of interests in the causation and the material explanation of emotions, these interests were by no means his alone; they were central to Stoic moral psychology from the beginning. And the particular innovations in this area which we can, with caution, attribute specifically to Posidonius would seem to lead him in a different direction from anything we have seen here. For what we can glean from Galen’s reports suggests that Posidonius is especially interested in positing additional causes for the emotions proper, supplementing the cognitive conditions identified by Chrysippus.36 And these additional causes, whatever they were called or supposed to be, can hardly have been pre-emotions as these are known to our other sources. For the προπ"ειαι, although they sometimes precede π"η, never function as causes of them. Moreover, there is another point to consider, if it is accepted that Cicero, as well as Philo, is familiar with the point made in (7) about the substitution of “bitings and small contractions” for the fourth επ"εια. For if this point was first put forward in Posidonius’s Περ1 πα"8ν, then Cicero must have made some direct use of that work in the writing of Tusculanae 3 and 4. This I think unlikely, chiefly because Cicero’s handling of a number of shared issues differs so substantially from what was in Posidonius that if he knows the Posidonian treatise, he must be mounting an energetic attack upon it sine nomine, and this in him would be scarcely credible.37 Such similarities as there are between the two works should therefore be explained by their common dependence on Chrysippus and other early authors, and Cicero’s source for the προπ"εια concept should likewise be pre-Posidonian. Many questions remain concerning the way in which the προπ"ειαι are to be understood and the function they might have played in the development of Stoic emotion theory. The passages we have seen in 36 For these interests see Gal. De Hipp. et Plat. plac. 4.7.28, 33, 37; 5.5.21, 26 (165, 169 EK). Thus in taking up Chrysippus’s point about involuntary weeping in De Hipp. et Plat. plac. 4.7.37, Posidonius seems to have concentrated on cases in which assent has already been given, rather than on what might take place before or in the absence of assent. See further J. Cooper, “Posidonius on Emotions”, cit., 81–90, Ch. Gill, “Did Galen Understand Platonic and Stoic Thinking on Emotions?”, cit., 124–130, R. Sorabji, “Chrysippus-Posidonius-Seneca”, cit., 155–160. 37 The point is argued in detail in M. Graver, Cicero on the Emotions: Tusculan Disputations 3 and 4, cit. Cicero of course knew Posidonius personally, and is in general eager to claim the acquaintance; see Tusc. 2.61, De fin. 1.6, De nat. deor. 1.123. Had he been familiar with a Posidonian work on the topic of Tusculanae 3–4, he would surely have mentioned the fact.

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Philo do, however, enable us to assert with some confidence that at least some Stoics earlier than Cicero and Seneca were not only familiar with the notion of an involuntary affect which is not a π"ος, but also used the term προπ"εια in the context of emotion-definitions, and furthermore, that they applied the terms “biting and contraction” where there was need to speak of a clean version of grief. From these points the most important conclusion to be drawn is that there was in the Stoa some discussion as to the way in which the term π"ος was to be applied to the phenomena, arguably for the purpose of restricting its extension and thus making the cognitivist thesis somewhat easier to defend. Equally important is the connection of the προπ"εια problem with issues of voluntariness and assent. While the words voluntas and voluntarius are not used in a recognizably philosophical sense before Cicero, the effort of earlier Stoics to be precise about which phenomena are and are not caused by assent brings out the depth of their concern over the voluntariness of the π"η. This is not, to be sure, the same concern we expect to find in the context of worries about determinism, but it should still be considered in tracing the conceptual history of what we call the ‘will.’38

38 I would like to thank Tad Brennan, Richard Sorabji, and the editors of Phronesis for helpful comments on this article at various stages of completion. I would also like to thank Prof. Sorabji for a stimulating long-distance discussion of the Philonian material.

PHILO AND HELLENISTIC PLATONISM

John Dillon The question of Philo’s relationship with Hellenistic Platonism, as opposed to either Stoicism, Neopythagoreanism, or Alexandrian Platonism (Eudorus), is by no means an easy one, since all of these influences are closely interwoven in his work. Philo’s direct acquaintance with the works of the immediate followers of Plato, such as Speusippus, Xenocrates and Polemon, is very doubtful, and his interest in the New Academy, from Arcesilaus down to Carneades (and his immediate followers, Clitomachus and Charmadas) seems to have been minimal.1 On the other hand, with the renewed dogmatism of the so-called ‘Old Academy’ of Antiochus of Ascalon (c. 130–68 BC), he exhibits a relationship that is far-reaching, but somewhat complex to evaluate, for the reason stated above. We should first of all recall to our minds Philo’s grand vision of the development of philosophy, from its origins in the thought of Moses (as expressed through the medium of elaborate and complex allegory in the books of the Pentateuch), then transmitted by certain of his followers, at a later date, to Pythagoras, during his wanderings in the Eastern Mediterranean,2 and in due course passed on in turn, through the intermediacy of such followers as Philolaus and Archytas (but also of such figures as Timaeus of Locri and Ocellus the Lucanian, whom Philo will have accepted as genuine), to Plato and his followers in the Old Academy—and by them, albeit with some distortions that Philo would repudiate, to the founders of the Stoic School, Zeno, Cleanthes and Chrysippus. It is this tradition that Antiochus, and even more fully Eudorus, can be seen as reviving, and we can be reasonably confident, I think— 1 He is indeed happy to make use of certain skeptical strategies, as for instance at Ebr.162–205, but they seem to be borrowed rather from Aenesidemus (his Ten Points against Dogmatism) than from the New Academy. 2 Admittedly, we lack direct evidence from Philo that he was acquainted with the story of Pythagoras communing with the followers of “Móchos” (Moses) on Mt. Carmel—that must be derived from Iamblichus’ Pythagoric life (§ 14), but some form of this story is essential to his overall theory.

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though, of course he would betray no hint of this—that that is how Philo viewed them. Antiochus’ stock, both as a philosopher and as an historian of philosophy, has been rising somewhat in the last halfcentury,3 despite some dissident voices.4 In particular, we have come to recognise that what seemed earlier to be his reckless application of Stoic doctrines to the Platonists is not by any means so unhistorical as it was once taken to be, if his synthesis of ‘Platonist’ doctrine, as relayed by Cicero, in particular at Ac. pr. 2.14–42, but also in such places at Ac. po. 1.24–32, and De fin. 5.9–74, is related, not directly to the Plato of the dialogues, but rather to his doctrine as interpreted by his followers Xenocrates and, in particular, Polemon.5 To take a few examples: the presentation of Platonic first principles at Ac. pr. 2. 24, involving simply an active principle and a material one, with the active (efficiens = poietikos) sending forth a “power”, which generates “qualities” (qualitates = poiotetes) in Matter, thus producing the physical realm of bodies, may appear highly Stoicised, but may also be seen as developing logically out of a non-literal interpretation of Plato’s Timaeus, such as we know all his immediate followers, and in particular Xenocrates, to have adopted; while in the sphere of ethics, we find Antiochus in the De finibus (2.33–34; 5.24 ff.) attributing to the Platonists the doctrine that “every living creature loves itself, and from the moment of birth strives to secure its own preservation”, which leads to the doctrines of oikeiosis, “self-conciliation”, and the ideal of the life in conformity with nature—this latter ideal, however, comprising, for the Platonists, not just virtue, or “the goods of the soul”, but ta prota kata physin, “the first things according to nature”, and thus granting some value to a modicum of bodily and external goods as well. We have independent evidence6 that such was the doctrine of Xenocrates and Polemon (with Polemon possibly coming out as somewhat more austere than his master in favour of the dominance of the virtues over any lower goods), so once again Antiochus emerges as a reasonably accurate expounder of Old Academic doctrine. For our present 3 One may mention in this connection the ground-breaking study of G. Luck, Der Akademiker Antiochos (Bern–Stuttgart 1953), to which I was much indebted in my study of him in The middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London 1977, 19962), ch. 2. 4 Such as that of J. Barnes, “Antiochus of Ascalon”, in M. Griffin–J. Barnes (eds.), Philosophia togata. Essays on Philosophy and Roman Society (Oxford 1989), 51–96. 5 I have argued for this at some length in The Heirs of Plato. A Study of the Old Academy (347–274 BC) (Oxford 2003), ch. 4. 6 Chiefly from Clement in his Stromateis, 2.22.

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purpose, however, the important point is that a great deal of doctrine, and a great many formulations, that we find in Philo do not have to be seen as instances of ‘eclecticism’ on his part, as between Platonism and Stoicism, but simply of faithful borrowing from Antiochus. Antiochus, however, does not seem to have been particularly impressed by the Pythagorean tradition (though his otherwise faithful Roman follower, M. Terentius Varro, whom Cicero uses on occasion as his spokesman, plainly was). For one thing, the Pythagorean tradition would have involved acceptance of a pair of immaterial, transcendent first principles, in the shape of the One and the Indefinite Dyad, as well as an interest in arithmology, which Antiochus plainly found uncongenial. He was in this, it would seem, a follower rather of Polemon, who postulated an immanent God, a forerunner of that of the Stoics, than of Xenocrates, who operated with a Monad and a Dyad, and in other respects acknowledged the authority of Pythagoras.7 It is otherwise with the Alexandrian Platonist Eudorus in the next generation, a man who is both geographically and temporally much closer to Philo, but I leave discussion of him on this occasion to Mauro Bonazzi. Philo, however, while certainly being sympathetic with the revival of Pythagoreanism, and the transcendental and immaterial concept of the first principle that that involves, does not seem to have adopted any of Eudorus’ distinctive innovations in doctrine (except perhaps his formulation of the telos, “likeness to God”, rather than “life in accordance with Nature”). He prefers in most respects to stick with the Stoicising (or Polemonian) synthesis propounded by Antiochus, duly modified in a transcendental direction. Let us now see, from a selection of cases, taken from the areas of ethics, physics and logic, what this amounts to in practice. We should take first, perhaps, however, the question of the criterion of knowledge, since without the establishment of this no dogmatism is possible. Here, at first sight, Philo might seem to be adopting the Stoic criterion of the kataleptike phantasia, or “cognitive impression”, but of course this is simply the criterion adopted by Antiochus (e.g. at Ac. pr. 2.19–21), which he saw as being merely a formalisation of that of Plato himself. At Congr. 141, Philo gives the definition of knowledge as “a sure and certain conception (katalepsis) which cannot be shaken by argument.” Philo is doubtless aware that he is adopting a Stoic

7

See my discussion in The Heirs of Plato, cit., ch. 3, and specifically 153–154.

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formulation, but he can rest secure in the Antiochian conviction that this is substantially the position of Plato—and therefore, Philo would add, of Pythagoras, and thus of Moses. Once one has accepted the possibility of certainty, at any rate, one can proceed to construct a positive philosophy. The telos, or “end of life”, I have already mentioned, but what is interesting is how Philo manages to combine the Stoicising telos of Antiochus in his own mind with the Pythagoreanising one of “likeness to God”. Conforming to Nature, Philo decides, by reason of the fact that Nature is really just the operation of God’s Logos in the world, is effectively likening oneself to God. This comes out clearly in such a passage as Praem. 11–13, where he asserts that the ideal of acting in accordance with Nature, as propounded by the Stoics and Antiochus, is quite inadequate unless it also means “setting one’s hopes on God”: The hope of happiness incites also the devotees of virtue to pursue philosophy, believing that thus they will be able to discern the nature of all that exists, and “act in accordance with Nature”, and so bring to their fullness the best types of life, the contemplative and the practical, which necessarily make their possessor a happy man.

If they stop there, however, they are to be condemned: He alone is worthy of approval who sets his hope on God both as the source to which his coming into existence itself is due and as the sole power which can keep him free from harm and destruction.

The Stoic/Antiochian ideal is thus elegantly subsumed into the more ‘Pythagorean’ ideal propounded by Eudorus. We will see this tendency pervading many aspects of Philo’s philosophy, leading older critics to accuse him readily of ‘eclecticism’ or plain vacillation. However, a more benign interpretation of Philo’s procedure is possible. The fact is that, as I say, he had come to regard the whole course of Greek philosophy descending from Pythagoras and his followers, through Plato and Aristotle and their followers, to the Stoics (excluding, thus, only the Sceptics and Epicureans), as a single tradition descending ultimately from Moses, on any part of which he feels free to draw, according as the sacred text prompts him. If we consider, first, ethics, we can find him apparently vacillating, from one passage to another, between a more austere ‘Stoic’ line, to the effect that the virtues, or the goods of the soul, are solely sufficient for happiness (e.g. Det. 7 ff.; QG 4.167), but it is probable that after all he is not intending to stray far from the position taken up by Antiochus, itself

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a position derived plausibly from that of at least the later Old Academy, and in particular Polemon, which accorded a pre-eminent role to the goods of the soul, but did not wish entirely to dismiss a modicum of the two lower goods as necessary conditions for perfect, or ‘well-rounded’ happiness. The only position he seems to want to reject (as e.g. at Det. 7, where it is identified as that of the ‘trimmer’ Joseph) is the purely Peripatetic one which makes all three levels of good essential components of happiness. A good statement of his position may be discerned in such a passage as Her. 285–286: So then, if a man be “nourished with peace” (Gen 15:15), he will depart, having gained a calm, unclouded life, a life of true bliss and happiness. When will this be found? When there is welfare outside us, welfare in the body, and welfare in the soul, the first bringing ease of circumstance and good repute, the second health and strength, the third delight in the virtues. For each part needs its own proper guards. The body is guarded by good repute and unstinted abundance of wealth, the soul by the complete health and soundness of the body, the mind by the acquired love of the various forms of knowledge.

It might indeed sound from this as if Philo were here adopting a thoroughly Peripatetic position,8 but I think that we may rather view him as propounding what, following Antiochus, he conceives to be the Old Academic position, which accords due respect to the two lower goods as auxiliaries (doryphoroi), rather than as full partners, of the virtues. On the question of the passions, also, there could well be confusion as to Philo’s true influences. He certainly comes across as an advocate of the extirpation of the passions (apatheia), as opposed to their mere moderation (metriopatheia), e.g at Leg. 3.129 or Agr. 10, and we find him, at QG 2.57, propounding the theory of eupatheiai, as being the rational equivalents of the passions. This position is thoroughly Stoic, but if we look more closely, we will notice a curious detail, such as might indicate that Philo’s position is in fact consonant with that of Antiochus (who is himself reproached by Cicero, Ac. pr. 2.135, for adopting too austerely Stoic a position in this connection). The Stoics only recognised three eupatheiai to balance the four passions, not recognising a rational 8 There is an even more extreme example at QG 3.16, where Philo speaks of “the perfection (teleiotes) arising from the three goods, spiritual, corporeal and external”, and goes on to say: “This doctrine was praised by some of the philosophers who came after (sc. Moses), such as Aristotle and the Peripatetics. Moreover, this is said to have been the legislation of Pythagoras”—leaving Aristotle in very distinguished company!

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equivalent of grief, lype. In Philo, however, we find such an equivalent, in the shape of degmos, which one might render, quaintly, “agenbite of inwit”—a kind of ‘gnawing’ or ‘pricking’ in the soul; and such an equivalent also turns up in Cicero (Tusc. 3.83, where it is rendered morsus by Cicero), very probably from Antiochus. This is, I should say, just the sort of ‘humanizing’ modification that Philo would make to the austerity of Stoic ethics, in the name of the Old Academy. The issue of Fate and Freewill may be taken here, though it is habitually viewed as a topic of physics. The position on this vexed question taken up by Antiochus is not entirely easy to discern. On the one hand, the summary of Platonist doctrine presented at Ac. po. 1.29 follows a straightforwardly Stoic line as to the complete dominance of Fate, which is simply the working out of the Logos in the world, free will being only a subjective phenomenon; but we have also to consider Cicero’s De fato, which must have a Platonist provenance, whether Antiochian or other, and there it is asserted (§§ 17–18) that, although certainly nothing happens without a cause, we must distinguish between external and internal causes, the latter being an impulse arising within the subject itself. The human soul, we are told, is capable of originating its own impulses, and is thus an autonomous cause of action. This latter position is both more consonant with Platonism, and would be pleasing enough to Philo. At Deus, 47–48, we find a strong statement of the doctrine of free will, which distinguishes us from the other creatures, and this makes us liable to praise and blame; but Philo is also prepared to exalt God’s providence, to the extent of making us little more than instruments at its disposal (Cher. 128): For we are the instruments (organa) through the tension and slackening of which each particular form of action is produced; and it is the Craftsman (technites), by whom all things are moved, who contrives this striking (plexis) of our bodily or psychic powers.

The context here actually concerns the dreams of Joseph, but the application extends logically to all human activity. God, through his Logos, plays upon us as upon a stringed instrument (note the musical imagery implicit in plexis). This particular doctrine, however, is designed rather to explain our higher impulses; for our tendency to evil, Philo falls back on his assertion of free will. We observe in Philo’s various utterances on this vexed question, then, the same sorts of tension manifested in all other Platonist treatments of the topic.

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To turn to physics, and more particularly to First Principles, we would not expect Philo to show any close affinity with the version of Platonism propounded by Antiochus. Antiochus, after all, if we may judge from the account of Platonism given in Cicero, Ac. po. 1.24–29, postulated a two-principle system very close to that of the Stoics, featuring an active, or creative principle and a material principle, with the Forms presented as “qualities” (poiotetes), informing Matter, and forming, first, primary bodies (the four elements) and then secondary ones. For Philo, as a pious Jew, this is rather too dualistic a scenario. To designate God, he generally prefers, among Platonic terms, such epithets as “the One”, “the Good”, or “the Truly Existent” (to ontos on),9 and even speaks of him on occasion (Contempl. 2) as “better than the Good, purer than the One, and more primordial than the Monad”. However, in a rather programmatic passage near the beginning of De Opificio Mundi (8–9), he comes out with a formulation closely parallelling that of Antiochus: Moses, both because he has attained the very summit of philosophy, and because he had been divinely instructed in the greater and most essential part of Nature’s lore, could not fail to recognise that in the realm of existence (ta onta) there are two elements, an active causal principle (drasterion aition) and a passive element (patheton), and that the active cause is the perfectly pure and unadulterated Intellect of the universe, transcending virtue, transcending knowledge, transcending the Good Itself and the Beautiful Itself,10 while the passive part is in itself incapable of life or motion, but, when set in motion and shaped and ensouled by Intellect, changes into the most perfect masterpiece, namely this world.

David Runia, in his fine commentary on the De opificio,11 wishes to dismiss the suggestion that Philo could be influenced here by Antiochus, on the grounds that Antiochus’ world-view is “immanentist and materialist”, and too close to Stoicism, whereas Philo definitely intends his first principle to be transcendent and immaterial. This is certainly a valid point, but it does not preclude the possibility of Antiochus’ being the ultimate origin of this formulation of the Platonist first principles on which Philo is basing himself. We have to reckon with the possibility, E.g. at Deus, 11, or at Her. 187. Here, certainly, Philo is going beyond anything that Antiochus would have wished to assert; this use of negative theology may be partly a Neopythagorean trait, but also a function of Philo’s distinctively Jewish piety. 11 Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos according to Moses. Introduction, translation and commentary (Leiden 2001), 114–115. 9

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after all, that all of Antiochus’ perceived influence on Philo is in fact routed through Eudorus (and that thus this chapter would be largely superfluous!). The next issue to be discussed is the Logos and the Forms.12 The Logos is plainly a Stoic conception in its essence, but could it perhaps be that acquaintance with the position of Antiochus made it possible for Philo to view this as Platonic—and specifically, as a reasonable interpretation of the Timaeus? The issue is tied in with the origin of the doctrine of the Forms as thoughts of God, to which Philo is the first extant witness (though it is in fact assumed in a surviving passage of Antiochus’ follower Varro, allegorizing Minerva/Athena as the Intellect of Jupiter).13 I have argued elsewhere14 that, despite the lack of surviving attestations, not too much of a mystery should be made of the origins of this doctrine. It follows almost inevitably from a non-literal exegesis of the Timaeus, such as was adopted by Plato’s followers in the Old Academy, and in particular Xenocrates, in accordance with which the Demiurge becomes a cosmogonic Intellect (or even rational World-Soul), and the Paradigm its contents. Such a system seems to have been adopted by Antiochus (as one would expect), if we may take the “power” (vis = dynamis) of the Active Principle mentioned at Cicero, Ac. po. 1.24 as being none other than the Logos (it is characterized a little later, § 27, as a ratio perfecta = logos teleios), and is indeed readily assimilable to a Platonist cosmology based on a de-mythologized interpretation of the Timaeus. The same goes for the Forms, viewed as logoi, or structuring forces, imposed on matter by God. For Philo, the Forms or logoi emanate from God’s intellect, characterized as the “intelligible world” (kosmos noetos)— another concept for which he is the first attested witness.15 The Logos— like the World-Soul, a concept for which Philo has no use—can be described as their “place”, e.g. in such a passage as Opif. 20:

12 The ultimate origin of Philo’s remarkable doctrine of the “powers” of God is an interesting question (the two chief powers, at least, Goodness and Sovereignty, might conceivably be adapted from Eudorus’ system of Monad and Dyad, or Limit and Unlimitedness, subordinate to the One), but it does not in any case concern Antiochus. 13 Ap. Augustine, Civ. Dei, 7. 28 (from Varro’s Antiquities). 14 The Heirs of Plato, cit., 105–106. 15 Though it is in fact largely prefigured in the “intelligible living being” (noeton zoion) of Tim. 39e.

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As, then, the city which was fashioned beforehand within the mind of the architect16 held no place in the outer world, but had been imprinted on the soul of the craftsman as by a seal, even so the world that consists of the Forms would have no other place than the divine Logos who gives these their ordered disposition.

Such a scenario (apart, of course, from the transcendence and immateriality of God) is, as I have said, quite consistent with Stoicism, but it is fully consistent also with the position of Antiochus, and that, I think, would be an important consideration for Philo. Something may also be said about Philo’s doctrine on the elements. Antiochus, if we may judge from Ac. po. 1.26, postulated a four-element universe, fire and air being regard as active, water and earth as passive. He is uncomfortable about aether, Aristotle’s fifth essence; he does not condemn it, nor yet does he adopt it;17 he prefers, however, as the substance of the stars and of minds, to adopt the Stoic “pure fire”, which he no doubt assimilated to aether. Philo’s position is very similar. At Plant. 1–8, a most interesting passage, he seems to vacillate between an Aristotelian five-element universe and a four-element model, but in fact he is seeking to reconcile the two models by interpreting Aristotelian aether as Stoic pure fire. He does, however, wish to maintain a clear distinction between the heavenly realm, whose substance moves round in a circle, and the four sublunar elements, which follow linear motions.18 In his psychology, likewise, Philo can be accused of vacillation between a bipartite (e.g. Leg. 2.6; Spec. 1.333) and a tripartite model of soul (e.g. Spec. 4.92, where the influence of Plato’s Republic IV is strong), and even on occasion a Stoic division into the hegemonikon, “the ruling part”, and the five senses, along with the faculties of speech and reproduction (e.g. at Opif. 117, where he is extolling the hebdomad, and a group of seven dependent on a monad is what he wants). Antiochus, on the evidence that we have (e.g. Ac. po. 1.30), seems to have stuck closer to the unitary Stoic model, though making a contrast between intellect and the senses, which could be taken to imply a bipartite model. The authority behind Tusculanae II and IV did accept a bipartite model, but that may just as

16 17 18

He has just been comparing God to an architect. At De fin. 5.12, he speaks of this as “a very difficult question”. Cf. also Det. 154; Mos. 2.148.

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well be Posidonius as Antiochus, the former of whom (again perhaps mediated by Eudorus) would also be a probable influence on Philo. In the field of logic, Philo exhibits an overlaying of Aristotelian logic with Stoic such as was characteristic of Antiochus, but which also seems to be characteristic of Eudorus (whose order of categories he follows), so that there is no need to assert any particular degree of influence here. The general position, however, that Stoic and Aristotelian logical systems are compatible, and both are to be seen as extrapolations from the practice of the Old Academy—and, if various Pythagorean pseudepigrapha, such as that of ps. Archytas On the Structure of Discourse, be taken into account, of Pythagoreanism as well—would seem to have found favour with Philo. He adopts the Aristotelian categories, but also those of the Stoics (e.g. Leg. 3.175, where Manna is interpreted as the Stoic supreme category ti), and other aspects of Stoic logic, such as the theory of lekta, or “sayables”, which he expounds at Agr. 141. As I remarked at the outset, the web of Philo’s influences from Hellenistic philosophy in general is so tangled that to separate out a specifically Antiochian strand is somewhat temerarious. Certainly there was much about Antiochus’ view of the nature of true being and of first principles that Philo would have found uncongenial, as being too close to Stoic materialism, but we must reflect that after all he may have only come into contact with Antiochus through the medium of Eudorus, and this mediation would have filtered out much that was objectionable, leaving only the basic project of returning from the ‘deviation’ of Academic scepticism to the ‘true’ teaching of Plato, which is what would have attracted Philo.

TOWARDS TRANSCENDENCE: PHILO AND THE RENEWAL OF PLATONISM IN THE EARLY IMPERIAL AGE

Mauro Bonazzi 1. An error that is to be avoided when we talk about the rebirth of Platonism in the early Imperial age is thinking that it was a unified and systematic process, as if all the philosophers were working together in agreement on the codification of a single body of doctrines. Rather, to use an expression by Heinrich Dörrie, we do better to think of it as a battlefield, in which various images of Plato faced each other, not necessarily compatible one with another. A second complication is that this attempt to construct a systematic Platonism is not only an affaire de famille, the result of the exegetical work of Platonists engaged in reading Plato’s dialogues. No less important is the comparison with other schools of thought in the attempt to conquer a major role on the philosophical scene. And, as always, comparison also means contamination: the various images of Plato were enriched with elements taken from other schools or traditions, whether Pythagoreanism, Aristotelianism, Stoicism or Scepticism. It would therefore be more correct to speak of various Platonisms that start from similar problems and try to elaborate a coherent body of doctrines in order to conquer a central place on the philosophical scene of the period. We need to bear these problems in mind when we consider the position of Philo of Alexandria, who was not a philosopher in the traditional sense, but a “philosophically oriented exegete” (Runia), who was very well acquainted with the philosophical language of the age (Nikiprowetzky)—not only its terminology, but also its concepts—and was able to use it for his own exegetical ends.1 An ancient bon mot read W Πλτων φιλων.ζει W Φ.λων πλατων.ζει:2 effectively, even a superficial 1 On the problematic relation between ‘philosopher’ and ‘commentator’ and the debate that followed the famous study by V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie (Leiden 1977), cf. the comments by D.T. Runia, “Was Philo a Middle Platonist? A Difficult Question Revisited”, The Studia Philonica Annual 5 (1993), 120–123. 2 Phot. Bibl. cod. 105, first attested in Jerom. De vir. inl. 11.

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reading of his writings reveals that Philo was extremely deeply-read in Plato. And not only Plato: his Platonic readings often reflect the influence of Platonist interpretations that were circulating in the early Imperial age. This was the philosophical tradition to which Philo was closest.3 But, more precisely, is it possible to clarify what type of Platonism he was most interested in? In this paper I want to analyse Philo’s testimony in relation to the new Pythagoreanizing Platonism, which had been circulating in Alexandria from the end of the I century BC.4 As we know, it is a particularly delicate problem on which it is difficult to reach incontrovertible conclusions. But at least on some points this type of analysis will allow us to clarify some underlying problems and the type of solutions that have been devised: in this sense Philo is an important testimony of Platonism in one of the most lively periods of its history. And at the same time this comparison will also allow us to show Philo’s competence and autonomy: he was not just slavishly assimilating other people’s doctrines, but proved capable of exploiting them brilliantly for his own objectives. 2. One of the most interesting texts for evaluating the spread of Platonic themes in the I century AD is certainly the De opificio mundi, particularly the opening section with its discussion of the ultimate principles of reality. After criticising those who impiously prefer the world, or the product, to its creator,5 Philo exalts Moses’ superiority, claiming: [Moses] recognized that it is absolutely necessary that among existing things there is an activating cause on the one hand and a passive object on the other, and that the activating cause is the absolutely pure and unadulterated intellect of the universe, superior to excellence and supe3 As has now been shown by the researches of D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden 1986), and J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London 19962), 139–183 among others. 4 It is interesting to observe that this link was also recognised by Clement and other Christian writers, who refer to Philo as Pythagorean, the term being a sort of equivalent in this period for ‘Platonist’, cf. D.T. Runia, “Why does Clement of Alexandria call Philo ‘the Pythagorean’?”, Vigiliae Christianae 49 (1995), 1–22 and, more generally, M. Bonazzi, Academici e Platonici. Il dibattito antico sullo scetticismo di Platone (Milan 2003), 208–211. 5 The identity of these impious adorers of the cosmos is controversial. A.P. Bos, “Philo of Alexandria: a Platonist in the Image and Likeness of Aristotle”, The Studia Philonica Annual 10 (1998), 66–86, thinks of the Chaldeans, but perhaps F. Trabattoni “Philo De opificio mundi 7–12”, in M. Bonazzi–J. Opsomer (eds.), The Origins of Platonism (Leuven, forthcoming) is right to suggest that the target of the polemic is rather the Aristotelian tradition.

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rior to knowledge and even superior to the good and the beautiful itself (τ< μHν δραστριον αcτιον, τ< δH πα"ητ<ν, κα1 ;τι τ< μHν δραστριον : τ8ν ;λων νοLς στιν ε?λικριν0στατος κα1 κραιφν0στατος, κρε.ττων W ρετ/ κα1 κρε.ττων W πιστμη κα1 κρε.ττων W ατ< τ< γα"<ν κα1 ατ< τ< καλν; Opif. 8).6

Thus, the ultimate principles of reality can be reduced to two, even though, strictly speaking, the principle is one only, because to patheton should be understood not so much as a real principle as the passive element on which the active principle intervenes. In spite of the repeated Platonic allusions (cf. also § 10 and 16–25), reducing the principles to an active cause and a passive element recalls the Stoic bi-partition,7 and this has suggested that Philo was in some way following a form of Stoicized Platonism, as, for example, testified in the doxography of Diogenes Laertius (3.69 and 76).8 Confirming this suggestion, Gretchen Reydams-Schils has further observed that a similar mingling of Platonic and Stoic themes is also found in Aristobulus, that is, in the Hebraic tradition before Philo.9 This is certainly an interesting connection, but, on reflection, there are also some details that make the connection with Stoicism much less pertinent than it seems at first sight. One evident characteristic of the first principle is, in fact, its separateness:10 God is pure, uncontaminated, he even transcends positive qualities like the good and the beautiful. This is a fundamental concept that returns 6

The translations of this treatise are by D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos according to Moses. Introduction, translation and commentary (Leiden 2001); the translations of the other treatises are from the Loeb Classical Library with some occasional modifications. 7 SVF 2.300–312 (fr. 302 corresponds to the passage of Opif. 8 just cited). On the link between this Stoic doctrine and Plato, cf. D.N. Sedley, “Hellenistic Physics and Metaphysics”, in K.A. Algra–J. Barnes–J. Mansfeld–M. Schofield, The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge 1999), 355–411. 8 Alongside the passage of Diogenes, we should recall, for its great importance on Stoicism, the celebrated fragment by Theophrastus ap. Simpl. In Phys. 26, 7–13 (= fr. 230 FSH&G). The doxography of Aëtius (1.6–7) and, even more, Antiochus, require separate treatment. There is no doubt that Antiochus’ physics, as presented by Cicero (Ac. po. 1.24–29) reproduce a structure similar to the Stoic one, but that does not mean that he can be treated as a follower of the Stoics, cf. P.L. Donini, Le scuole, l’anima, l’impero. La filosofia antica da Antioco a Plotino (Turin 1982, repr. 1993), 79; on Antiochus’ strategies cf. now M. Bonazzi, “Antiochus’ Ethics and the Subordination of Stoicism”, in M. Bonazzi–J. Opsomer (eds.), The Origins of Platonism, cit. For more detailed treatment of the relations between Antiochus and Philo, see also John Dillon’s contribution to this volume. 9 G. Reydams-Schils, Demiurge and Providence. Stoic and Platonist Readings of Plato’s Timaeus (Turnhout 1999), 135–139, 145–151. 10 D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit., 115.

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again and again in Philo’s texts: God is distinct from the cosmos, his product, and cannot be confused with it. An idea like this is hard to reconcile with Stoic doctrine: the presence of terms that are in some ways traceable to Stoic language betrays a conception that has little in common with Stoicism. If we are looking for a parallel with Greek philosophy, it is rather to the Pythagoreanizing Platonism that spread in Alexandria that we should look. In Philo’s city between the end of the I century BC and the early I century AD a type of Platonism gained ground that had taken up themes and problems that were thought to be distinctive of early Pythagoreanism, even though they actually often depended more on the previous reception of Pythagoreanism in the Old Academy. Unfortunately, we have little information on the individual philosophers, but it is surely significant that this very period also saw the production of numerous treatises attributed to the most important Pythagoreans, who were often actually reproducing Platonic doctrines. As long as we do not think of these works as a response to a coherent and systematic project down to the last detail, they can also be legitimately used as documents of Alexandrian Platonism in the early Imperial age.11 One of the most significant characteristics that emerges from these documents is the central position of the theological dimension: Eudorus, Plutarch’s teacher Ammonius, the pseudo-Timaeus and the pseudo-Archytas of the treatise on principles all agree in calling the first principle “God”, "ες.12 This is naturally a significant point of contact with Philo, even though it would be easy to object that in itself it does not settle the matter finally: but there are other characteristics that allow us to consider the connection more deeply. Alongside the exaltation of his divine character these authors insist on the singularity of the first principle, which is the cause of unity and order in a world that tends to split up into a disordered multiplicity. “The principle of what is, the true principle,” 11 The problem of these Pythagorean pseudo-epigraphs is actually still more complex because some texts at least seem to date from earlier periods. To avoid confusion I shall concentrate only on those treatises which scholarship has established, with reasonable certainty, as being connected with Platonism in the early Imperial age, particularly De natura mundi et animae attributed to Timaeus and a De principiis attributed to Archytas; cf. M. Baltes, Timaios Lokros. Über die Natur des Kosmos und der Seele (Leiden 1972), 22–23, and B. Centrone, “The Theory of Principles in the Pseudopythagorica”, in K.I. Boudouris (ed.), Pythagorean Philosophy (Athens 1992), 90–97. 12 Cf. in particular, with relation to Eudorus, Simpl. In Phys. 181, 7–30 = Eudorus T 3–5 Mazzarelli; to Ammonius, Plut. De E, 391e–394c; ps.-Tim. De univ. nat. 205, 5– 225, 10 and ps.-Arch. De princ. 19, 5–20, 17 Thesleff.

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writes the Pythagorean Thearidas, who was actually an apocryphal figure of the early Imperial age, “is One; and it is unique and alone ([ ρχA τ8ν @ντων, ρχA μHν @ντως λη"ιν, μ.αP κε.να γAρ ν ρχ>= τ0 στιν uν κα1 μνον)”.13 This insistence on unity is confirmed most significantly in Eudorus, who calls the first principle respectively God and One (Mν), but just as interesting is the great speech that Plutarch puts into Ammonius’ mouth in the De E apud Delphos: you are One (εB Mν). In fact the Deity (τ< "εSον) is not Many, like each of us who is compounded of hundreds of different factors […], a heterogeneous collection combined in a haphazard way. But Being must have Unity, even as Unity must have Being (λλD uν εBναι δεS τ< @ν, aσπερ ^ν τ< Mν; 393b; trans. Babbit).14

The link with Pythagoreanism, which was so deeply concerned with numbers and their value, makes the importance of this characteristic absolutely clear, and converges significantly with Philo, who often celebrates his God as “One” or “Monad”, to underline its character of uniqueness and separateness.15 In addition, the passage of Plutarch just cited also brings out another characteristic that we often find in Philo:16 the presentation of God as a real being (τ< @ντως @ν), attributing him a feature that in Plato was reserved for the description of ideas. Finally, Philo and these authors agree in insisting on the separateness and superiority of the first divine principle. On this, which, as we have seen, is of decisive importance, because it marks a decisive break with Stoicism and any type of Stoicizing Platonism, the convergence with Alexandrian Platonism is even more marked, as we can see from a comparison with Eudorus. One of Philo’s expedients for underlining the separateness and distance of the first principle from the cosmos is the use of the adverb Iπερνω. God is beyond, Iπερνω, the heavens (Congr. 105); he is beyond, Iπερνω, space and time (Post. 14); his Thear. De nat. 201, 16–18 Thesleff. Shortly after, moreover, at 393c, the formula εgς κα1 μνος returns. In general, J. Whittaker’s observations on Ammonius’ discourse in “Ammonius on the Delphic E”, Classical Quarterly 19 (1969), 185–192, remain fundamental; more generally, on the value of Plutarch’s testimony, cf. F. Ferrari, Dio, idee e materia. La struttura del cosmo in Plutarco di Cheronea (Naples 1995), 51–61. 15 Cf., for example, Leg. 2.1–3, 3.48, Deus, 11, Her. 187, 189, Spec. 2.176 and the list in H.-J. Krämer, Der Ursprung des Geistmetaphysik. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Platonismus zwischen Platon und Plotin (Amsterdam 1964), 273–274 and P. Boyancé, “Études Philoniennes”, Revue des Etudes Grecques 76 (1963), 82–95; cf. also Agr. 54, Her. 216, Leg. 2.1 on the formula εgς κα1 μνος. 16 Cf., for example, Deus, 11, Ebr. 83, Congr. 51. 13 14

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logos is beyond, Iπερνω, the whole universe, and is older and more universal than everything that is born (Leg. 3.175). This use is perfectly matched in an eloquent expression of Eudorus, whose definition of the first principle is : Iπερνω "ες (Simpl. In Phys. 181, 19). Unfortunately, the scanty evidence available makes it difficult to examine this connection further; yet the parallel is not to be undervalued. As Jaap Mansfeld observed, the use of the adverb hyperano in metaphorical sense “seems to be rather late”;17 it is not attested either in Plato or Aristotle, but it returns significantly in Iamblichus’ account of Speusippus.18 It is difficult to establish if the term went back to Speusippus or if it was retrospectively attributed to him by Iamblichus: in any case, this testimony is authoritative confirmation of the importance this idea had in traditions interested in comparing Platonism and Pythagoreanism, and is also confirmed in other later Platonist texts (Anon. In Parm. 2.12). But this idea is not only characteristic of Platonists, because the formula : Iπερνω "ες seems to have been common in Christian tradition too;19 Clement, one of the first Christians known to have adopted this formula, uses it with explicit reference to Philo (Strom. 2.2.6, 1): Eudorus and Philo are a junction of fundamental importance, not only for the spread of the formula, but also for what is behind it, for the attempt to characterise the first principle in a transcendent and divine sense, in a framework in which theological interests gradually prevail over physical or cosmological questions. Careful analysis of the testimonies available, then, shows a deep affinity between Philo and the Platonists of his time, all of whom extract from the Platonic dialogues and Pythagorean testimonies the doctrine of a single first principle that is divine and transcendent: God is, to quote a fragment of Philolaus that Philo recalls with approval, “one, always existent, abiding, unchanged, himself identical to himself and differing from all others” (Opif. 100 = 44B20 DK). Naturally, this does not mean that Philo is wholly dependent on Platonism. His thoughts, as is well known, are inspired above all by the Bible. But it would be a serious error to undervalue the importance of this relation with regard 17 J. Mansfeld, “Compatible Alternatives. Middle Platonist Theology and the Xenophanes Reception”, in R. van den Broek–T. Baarda–J. Mansfeld (eds.), Knowledge of God in the Greco-Roman World (Leiden 1988), 97 n. 17. 18 Iambl. De comm. math. sc. 4 = Speusippus T 72 Isnardi Parente. 19 Cfr. e.g. Just. Triph. 2.120, Iren. Adv. haer. 1.20, 2, Clem. Strom. 2.2, 6; 2.11, 51, 1, Orig. Contra Cels. 5.33, Philocal. 26, 3, Hipp. Ref. 7.26, 1, 7.32, 7, Greg. Nyss. Adv. Maced. 96, 31, etc.

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to Philo’s attempt to mediate between Hebraism and Greek philosophy. It has often been observed that one of the main obstacles to this operation is the difficulty of mediating between the ‘personal’ God of the Scriptures and the ‘abstract’ God of philosophy. But one of the most significant characteristics that we have observed in Eudorus, Ammonius and the apocryphal Pythagoreans is precisely the alternation between impersonal (Mν, "εSον) and personal ("ες) formulas. The doctrines of these Platonists perform, then, a function of decisive mediation in Philo’s work of unifying the Bible and Platonism—a mediation whose importance it is impossible to exaggerate, if we think of the significance that Philo’s work was to have over the centuries. Given the importance of this connection, it is a pity that the shortage of material that we have prevents more systematic analysis. This would allow us to solve many problems, deepening our knowledge of Philo as well as of Alexandrian Platonism. As things stand, for example, one is tempted to observe that Philo seems to contradict himself, sometimes comparing God to the monad and the one (and in this he recalls Eudorus and the other Platonists mentioned above), and sometimes claiming he is superior to them.20 John Dillon advises us not to treat as “strictly philosophical statements” claims that should be considered as “essentially rhetorical flourish[es]”,21 depending probably on his desire to exalt the superiority and grandeur of God. In part, at least, this is certainly true, but it is just as true that complex theological and philosophical problems are at stake: the first divine principle is the cause of our world, but still remains other from it, and this introduces the problem of how we can understand and call him or how we cannot understand and call him—the problem of negative theology, in short. Discussing the whole problem of negative theology would require much more space than is available here, but some observations may be useful. It is known that similar concerns held a central place in Hebraic tradition; so when Philo insisted on “the overwhelming superiority and sublimity of God”, which cannot be “exhausted by his relationship to created reality via the Logos”,22 one might think that he was at least partly distancing himself from Greek tradition. But similar problems are to be found elsewhere too. In particular, John Whittaker has tried Cf., for example, Praem. 40, Contempl. 2, QE 2.68. J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 156; cf. too D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 435 n. 147. 22 D. Runia, “Was Philo a Middle Platonist?”, cit., 139. 20 21

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to show, on the basis of Hermetic testimonies and other writings dating from the early Imperial age, that Pythagoreanism played a central role in the development of negative theology.23 This would be confirmed by Philo himself, if Whittaker’s conjecture is true that he is referring to the Pythagoreanizing Platonists in Somn. 1.184 after criticising the immanentist theology of Hellenistic philosophers: Some say that everything that subsists occupies some space, and of these one allots to the Existent One [note that the term used for God is the Platonic τ< @ν] his space, another that, whether inside the world or a space outside it in the interval between worlds. Others maintain that the Unoriginate resembles nothing among created things, but so completely transcends them, that even the swiftest understanding falls far short of apprehending Him and acknowledges its failure.24

This is certainly an interesting possibility, although it is difficult to reach any certain conclusion. In any case, a partial confirmation at least of Whittaker’s conjecture comes from two occurrences of the adverb Iπερνω, which we have already discussed. Hyppolitus, discussing the Gnostic Basilides’ theory of the ineffability of God, explains that for him one cannot even say of God that he is ineffable (2ρρητος) because that would in any case mean attributing him a name, whereas in reality God is Iπερνω παντ<ς \νματος \νομαζομ0νου.25 Similarly, the anonymous commentary on the Parmenides, which though later is also influenced by Platonist doctrines of the early Imperial age, claims that God is the cause of all things, of their plurality and their being, but that in himself he is neither one nor plural, but supersubstantial […] so that he is superior not only to the notion of plurality, but also to that of the One (ο πλ"ους μνου Iπερνω, λλA κα1 τ3ς τοL ν<ς πινο.ας); through him, in fact, both the One and the Monad are (2.9–14).

Even without thinking that these are fragments or reminiscences of Eudorus, the two passages show the ‘negative’ potential that the term Iπερνω had when it was used metaphorically. And Eudorus too, when he defines the first principle (: Iπερνω "ες) with the term “one” (Mν), does not indicate only its unity, but also underlines its transcendence of all qualities (and so in some ways of unity too), which are made 23 J. Whittaker, “Neopythagoreanism and the Transcendent Absolute”, Symbolae Osloenses 48 (1973), 77–86. 24 J. Whittaker, “Neopythagoreanism and the Transcendent Absolute”, cit., 80–81. 25 On Basilides and Hyppolitus, cf. J. Whittaker, “Basilides on the Ineffability of God”, The Harvard Theological Review 62 (1969), 367–371.

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to depend on two elementary principles of the monad and the dyad. If this reading is correct, in Eudorus as in Philo, we shall thus find alternative ways of describing and understanding the first principle that are not necessarily incompatible with each other, but dependent on the point of view that is adopted each time.26 Despite our scanty sources, and without questioning the importance of the Hebraic tradition, the surviving evidence shows that Philo’s ambiguous expressions are not an isolated case, but depend on interests that are also common to other traditions, particularly the Platonic-Pythagorean one. And as Whittaker has rightly observed, the convergence “may be considered symptomatic of the tendency to transcendentalism which dominates the thinking of Philo and his contemporaries”.27 3. The emphasis on the superiority of the first principle is not only a novelty in itself, but also for what it betokens. In a religious perspective it is unimaginable to think that God, “happy and blessed as it was”, could “touch the limitless chaotic matter” (Spec. 1.329). But how then should we explain the creation of the universe? The insistence on transcendence brings out the problem typical of Platonism—“the bureaucratic fallacy” or the need to reconcile distinct planes of reality.28 If the growing importance of the theological perspective made this need to preserve God’s separateness still more deeply felt, no less urgent was the need to make the existence of everything dependent on his providential intervention. In Plato’s Timaeus the mediating function was performed by the demiurge; the theological reading of the Timaeus in the early Imperial age, by contrast, entails the demiurge being identified with the first divine principle, while the role of mediator is performed by eidetic principles: they are the instrument that the first principle makes use of 26 Fundamental to this regard is J. Mansfeld, “Compatible Alternatives”, cit., 100; cf. too the interesting comments by F. Calabi, “Conoscibilità e inconoscibilità di Dio in Filone di Alessandria”, in F. Calabi (ed.), Arrhetos Theos. L’ineffabilità del primo principio nel medio platonismo (Pisa 2002), 53–54. 27 J. Whittaker, “Neopythagoreanism and the Transcendent Absolute”, cit., 80; on the historical importance of this ‘tendency to transcendentalism’, cf. now D.T. Runia, “The Beginnings of the End: Philo of Alexandria and Hellenistic Theology”, in D. Frede–A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology. Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden 2002), 308–312. 28 Cf. J. Rist, “On Plotinus’ Psychology”, Rivista di Storia della Filosofia 61 (2006), 726: “if we have two terms (or, better, two items) A and B, there must be a third item, AB to link them together. Which notion inevitably leads to the bureaucrat’s dream: an infinite regress of middle-men”.

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to order matter.29 In other words, reality should not be brought back to two principles, but to three: the god/demiurge, who is the principle in the strictest and highest sense, matter and the instruments which the god concretely makes use of in his action of ordering matter.30 This doctrine of the three principles was to be typical of Platonism in the Imperial age. Here we can see clearly how the transcendent and theological reading involves the adoption of a paradigm that is radically different from the dualist doctrines mentioned earlier. At this point, however, two important qualifications are necessary. First of all, we must avoid running into the error of thinking that this doctrine of the three principles was produced perfectly and fully defined from the mind of some philosopher, like Athena from the head of Zeus. Secondly, we should always bear in mind that Philo follows this theory autonomously and not slavishly.31 As far as the first question is concerned, careful analysis of the few surviving accounts shows that the problem of finding degrees of mediation between levels of reality and different principles found different formulations. In synthesis, there are two main solutions, the one that insisted on numbers and the one that insisted more strictly on ideas. This is no great novelty, of course, given that, as Aristotle bears witness, the complex relation between ideas and principles had already proved to be a decisive problem for Plato, and even more for his immediate successors, who had attributed increasing importance to numbers over ideas. Further confirmation of renewed interest for the Old Academy in Eudorus and pseudo-Pythagorean literature can be seen in the fact that numbers and geometrical bodies play the role of mediating between God and matter, thus guaranteeing the order of the cosmos. The god/demiurge manages to obtain a rationalisation of the indeterminate substratum thanks to the introduction of “mathematical structures” (ρι"μοSς κα1 σχμασι), to use the words of Alcinous (Did. 167, 18–20). In spite of its brevity, if the passage by Simplicius is compared with the other accounts, it shows that this was the solution Eudorus proposed. In Simplicius’ testimony, the basic framework of Eudorus’ doctrine is articulated in the contrast between arche and stoicheia, the transcendent principle (ρχ, In Phil. Cher. 125; Leg. 3.96, Spec. 1.329 etc. Cf. too G. Reydams-Schils, Demiurge and Providence, cit., 147. 31 On this cf. R. Radice, “Observations on the Theory of the Ideas as the Thoughts of God in Philo of Alexandria”, in D.M. Hay–D.T. Runia–D. Winston (eds.), Heirs of the Septuagint. Philo, Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity, in The Studia Philonica Annual 3 (1991), 128. 29 30

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Phys. p. 181, l. 1)—the God Iπερνω (l. 19) and one (Mν, ll. 11, 17, 22, 26, 29)—and the elements (στοιχεSα ll. 24, 26)—the monad (μονς) and the dyad (ριστος δυς), from whose union the other bodies derived (ll. 26–27).32 Eudorus’ choice of the terms monad and dyad to indicate the principles is significantly in agreement with many other accounts of the time—from the Pythagorean writings of Alexander Polyhistor to the anonymous Life of Pythagoras and Plutarch of Chaeroneia—and clearly shows that the function of ordering the cosmos happened according to mathematical-geometrical principles: from these first two principles derive numbers in the strict sense, and the numerical progression “onetwo-three-four” marks the dimensional progression “point-line-surfacesolid” that makes it possible to put order in the substratum of matter.33 The importance of numbers is also confirmed in the De principiis of the pseudo-Archytas, the text which more than any other has affinities with Eudorus:34 to bring unformed and disordered matter to order and form (μορφN) the God has recourse to the power of numbers (ρι"μ8ν δυναμ.ας, p. 20, 3–5 Thesleff). Mathematics—or, more precisely: the mathematicalisation of principles—enables, then, the transition from a theological and metaphysical plane to the cosmological and physical plane, thus resolving the problem of mediating between two degrees of different realities. In confirmation of the novelty of these doctrines and of Alexandrian Platonism, it is interesting to note that they were completely lacking in the sceptical Platonism of the Hellenistic Academy, which did not include Pythagoras in its genealogies, and does not demonstrate any positive and explicit interest either in mathematics or in theology. Thus, a characteristic feature of Alexandrian Pythagorean Platonism is the importance it attributed to mathematical entities as mediating principles between divinity and matter in the constitution of the cos32 For more detailed analysis, cf. M. Bonazzi, Eudoro di Alessandria alle origini del platonismo imperiale, in M. Bonazzi–V. Celluprica (eds.), L’eredità platonica. Studi sul platonismo da Arcesilao a Proclo (Naples 2005), 115–160. 33 Cf. Alex. Polyhist. ap. D.L. 7.24–25, Anon. Vit. Pyth. ap. Phot. Bibl. 438b19– 24, Plut. Plat. quaest. 3.1001 f–1002a; De def. or. 428e–f, Sext. M 10.258–262; equally interesting is Clem. Strom. 5. 11, on which cf. J. Whittaker, “Neopythagoreanism and Negative Theology”, Symbolae Osloenses 44 (1969), 112–113. That this was in some ways a theory attributable to Eudorus too is further confirmed by Plutarch, who states that Eudorus agreed with Xenocrates when he claimed that numbers are the product of the one/monad and of the indefinite dyad, Plut. De an. procr. 1012e = Eudorus T 6 Mazzarelli. 34 Cf. M. Bonazzi, “Eudoro di Alessandria alle origini del platonismo”, cit., 152–157.

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mos. If we turn to Philo, we may note that traces of this doctrine return in his writings too. John Dillon, in particular, has indicated the importance of two passages, Her. 156 where “God is described as employing all numbers and all forms in the bringing to completion of the world” and Opif. 102 which discusses ideas in association with numerical and derivative sequence: it is thanks to this sequence that we pass “from the incorporeal and intelligible substance to a conception of threedimensional body, which is by nature the first object to be perceived by the senses” (Opif. 49).35 But in spite of these significant passages, it is evident to any reader of Philo that for him ideas cannot be reduced only to numbers, but play a wider role. The most significant confirmation of the importance of ideas is to be found in his claim, which he made on various occasions, that they are the thoughts of God: in Philo we find a first explicit declaration of a doctrine that would make up one of the distinctive features of Imperial Platonism and its doctrine of the three principles (God, idea, matter). Now, one might claim that, in part at least, in the Pythagorean branch of Alexandrian Platonism too there are traces of this doctrine, as we can see from the occurrence in the pseudo-Timaeus (§ 30) of the formula idanikos kosmos—a clear parallel with Philo’s more famous noetikos kosmos, which clearly takes us back to the same context.36 Further indications could also be found from the occurrence of noetikos kosmos in Achilles’ Isagoge, which seems to reflect the influence of Eudorus.37 And, of course, it is easy to imagine that the Pythagoreanizing Platonists might in some way endorse this thesis if we 35 J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, cit., 159. The more general section from which the passage of Her. 156 is taken is the long discussion of the logos as divider, which in turn echoes themes of the Old Academy and Pythagoreanism. As for Philo’s numerological and arithmetical competence, cf. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit., 25–29 et passim; nevertheless Runia, 277, following R. Radice, claims that “ideas” in Opif. 102 “should not be taken in the technical Platonic sense”: the fact remains, however, that the affinities with the accounts just discussed are significant (the same applies too for Opif. 49). 36 More generally, on noetikos kosmos, cf. D.T. Runia, “A Brief History of the Term kosmos noétos from Plato to Plotinus”, in J.J. Cleary (ed.), Traditions of Platonism. Essays in honour of John Dillon, (Aldershot–Brookfield 1999), 151–171. 37 Cf. D.T. Runia, “A Brief History”, cit., 160. On Eudorus and ideas, cf. in particular W. Theiler, “Philon von Alexandria und der Beginn des kaiserzeitlichen Platonismus”, in K. Flasch (ed.), Parousia. Studien zur Philosophie Platons und zur Problemgeschichte des Platonismus. Festgabe für J. Hirschberger (Frankfurt 1965), 206 ff., and J. Mansfeld, “Compatible Alternatives”, cit., 106–107 n. 59. In this connection we might also mention Thrasyllus, to whom Theon of Smyrna (Exp. 73) attributes a doctrine of the logos that might in some ways be compared with Philo (Thasyllus had written on the Platonic and Pythagorean principles: Porph. Vit. Plot. 20): H. Tarrant has dealt with this subject

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recall that it was to an extent inspired by Xenocrates. While Speusippus had replaced ideas with numbers, inaugurating the mathematicalisation of the cosmology in the Timeaus (the function of “model”, παρδειγμα, which ideas had in the Timaeus was now the role of mathematical entities), Xenocrates, by contrast, had tried to keep together mathematical entities and ideas, insisting on the fact that the monad was also “intellect”, νοLς (fr. 213 Isnardi), and so must have a content of thought: ideas.38 Anyway, restricting ourselves to the surviving accounts, we must admit that Alexandrian Platonism greatly preferred the mathematical solution: this marks a difference with Philo, in whom the role of ideas is more extensive. In addition, we should recall that the doctrine that saw ideas as the thoughts of God did not seem to be circulating only in Alexandria, but can be found elsewhere too, for example in texts traceable to Antiochus, as can be seen from Varro’s famous testimony, and perhaps from Seneca too.39 Without pretending to have found a solution to this longstanding problem, some more general conclusions can be drawn about Philo’s relations with the Alexandrian Platonists. While the latter clearly preferred a mathematical interpretation of principles, Philo recognised the importance of mathematics but did not reduce ideas to just numbers. In this, then, it is possible to register a certain autonomy of thought. What emerges is an extremely fluid and lively situation, in which Philo shows he is able to move with competence and independence of thought.40

in Thrasyllan Platonism (Ithaca–London 1993), 110–117, but the scanty sources available make confirmation of this conjecture extremely difficult. 38 That Xenocrates’ doctrine played an important part in the formulation of the doctrine of ideas as thoughts of God is a fact, even though the surviving accounts do not allow us to claim that he was wholly responsible for it, as claimed by H.-J. Krämer, Der Ursprung des Geistmetaphysik, cit., 91; cf. also J. Dillon, The Heirs of Plato. A Study of the Old Academy (347–274 BC) (Oxford 2003), 118–121. 39 Varro ap. August. Civ. Dei, 7.28, Sen. Ep. 65. On Antiochus, cf. the contribution to this volume by J. Dillon. 40 On the subject of ideas as the thoughts of God, it should also be mentioned that, according to R. Radice, this doctrine was formulated for the first time by Philo himself (Platonismo e creazionismo in Filone di Alessandria (Milan 1989), 281–306). This is a fascinating conjecture, which requires far more space than is available here to deal with properly. However, one might mention, as Runia and others rightly have done, that accounts like Varro’s or that of the pseudo-Timaeus confirm that the doctrine was already circulating before Philo; more generally, the arguments collected by Radice “are not strong enough to support his radical thesis” (Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit., 152). And, still more generally, the analyses in this paper, insofar as they show that Philo took up themes and doctrines of the Platonism of his

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4. The importance of the new theological theories is also reflected in the field of ethics, particularly with reference to the problem of the telos, the goal of human existence. The gradual separation between God and the cosmos, between the creator and his product, also means a parallel shift from a cosmic theology to a ‘meta-cosmic’ theology: it is not enough to adapt to the laws of this world, but necessary to assimilate oneself to that God who is other than us, but to whom we are also related like children to their father. The most eloquent and famous testimony on the subject is undoubtedly a passage quoted in the second book of Stobaeus’ Anthologium, tentatively attributed to Eudorus: Socrates and Plato agree with Pythagoras that the human goal (τ0λος) is assimilation to God (:μο.ωσις τG8 "εG8). Plato articulated it more clearly by adding “in respect of what is possible”, and it is only possible by wisdom, that is to say, by living in accordance with virtue. In God resides the capacity to create the cosmos and to administer it, in the wise person establishment and regulation of a way of life are present. Homer hints at this when he says: “proceed in the footsteps of God” (κατD cχνια βαSνε "εοSο; Odissey, 5.193), while Pythagoras after him says: “follow God” (Mπου "εG8). Clearly by God he means not the visible God who advances, but the intelligible God who is harmonic cause of the good cosmic order. Plato states it according to the three parts of philosophy: physically (and in the Pythagorean manner I will add) in the Timaeus, pointing out without envy the previous observation of Pythagoras; ethically in the Republic, and logically in the Theaetetus. In the fourth book of the Laws he speaks clearly and at the same time richly on the subject of following God. […] That Plato considers the perfect virtue the goal is stated in the Timaeus as well, where he indicates also the name; I will quote the end of the passage, which runs: “by assimilating (:μοιNσαντα), bring to fulfilment (τ0λος) the best of life offered by the gods to mankind for present and future time” (Tim. 90c–d).41

This very doctrine is repeated in various passages by Philo, who mentions both the Pythagorean (and also Homeric) formulation and the Platonic one:

own time, also confirm that the most economical conjecture is that which dates the doctrine of ideas to the Platonist philosophers of the first Imperial age too. 41 Stob. Ecl. 2.7.3, p. 49, 8–50, 10 W. (= Eudorus T 25 Mazzarelli). This text has traditionally been regarded as by Eudorus, but this attribution has been questioned by T. Göransson, Albinus, Alcinous, Arius Didymus (Göteborg 1995), 186–191, 219–227. Whatever the truth of the matter, it is in any case clear that the account is the work of a philosopher interested in linking Plato and Pythagoras, cf., for example, the anonymous Life of Pythagoras ap. Phot. Bibl. cod. 249, 439a8–14.

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Have we not here a most admirable injunction full of power to urge us to every virtue and piety most of all? “Always follow God” (Mπου α9ε1 "εG8) (Decal. 100). [the first man] was closely related and akin to the Director, because the divine spirit had flowed into him in ample measure, and so all his words and actions were undertaken in order to please the Father and King, in whose footsteps he followed (Fπμενος κατD cχνος) along the highways that the virtues mark out, because only those souls are permitted to approach him who consider the goal of their existence to be assimilation to the God who brought them forth (τ0λος … τ/ν πρ<ς τ<ν γεννσαντα "ε<ν ξομο.ωσιν) (Opif. 144).42

In Fug. 63 he even cites (anonymously) the passage of the Theaetetus, 176a–b that was the classical reference point for all Platonists. The resemblances are clear, and this too confirms Philo’s interest for the new Platonic doctrines circulating in Alexandria in the I century AD. Contrary to what is sometimes claimed, the novelty of this formula, strictly speaking, is neither the insistence on God nor a more marked form of religious feeling than other formulas in the Hellenistic period. This is particularly so in the case of Stoicism, whose formula “live in accordance with nature”, given the coincidence between nature and God, effectively means “live in accordance with God”. Indeed, it would be difficult to accuse philosophers like Cleanthes, the author of the Hymn to Zeus, of little religious feeling. Compared with Stoicism, the difference of the Platonist formula is in the separateness of God, who is no longer simply compared with physis, but is other than it. The novelty lies in this detachment between physis and theos:43 in this case too, the insistence on transcendence brings with it a complete change of perspective—a change of perspective that does not hide its criticism of Stoicism. The underlying anti-stoic polemic can easily be heard in the passage cited from Stobaeus above, when he invites his readers to assimilate not to the visible but to the intelligible God.44 But still more significant confirmation for reconstructing the context of polemic that accompanied the birth of the new formula is the testimony of the Cf. also Opif. 151; Abr. 61, 87, Decal. 73, 101; Spec. 4.188, Virt. 168; Deus, 48; QG 2.62. In this connection C. Lévy, “Éthique de l’immanence, éthique de la transcendance. Le problème de l’oikeiôsis chez Philon”, in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le langage de la philosophie (Turnhout 1998), 153–164, is fundamental. 44 Cf. M. Bonazzi, “Continuité et rupture entre l’Académie et le platonisme”, Études Platoniciennes 3 (2006), 239–240; on Philo and ‘Hellenistic cosmic religion’, see D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria. On the Creation of the Cosmos, cit., 207–209. 42 43

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anonymous commentator of the Theaetetus, who deliberately establishes an explicit contrast between the oikeiosis, the basic principle of Stoic ethics, and the homoiosis. Against the Stoics, who claimed to found justice on human nature, the arguments of Academics and Platonists show that this is intrinsically egoistic, and that the only possible foundation is the God, to whom the soul can be assimilated, transcending its nature.45 As we can easily imagine, behind this contrast and the new formula is to be found a different conception not only of nature in general, but, also, more precisely, of the nature of man and his soul. The soul is no longer a homogenous and compact block as the Stoics claimed, but is divided in at least two parts, one rational and the other irrational:46 while the latter serves for the needs of the body and the world of becoming (the physis), the former, with which it thinks and reasons, is the part that brings us close to God, is what enables men to search for God and become like it.47 This division in two is a fundamental doctrine of Platonism and returns constantly in the Platonists and in Philo.48 In Philo too there are traces of the anti-stoic outlook of these doctrines, as we can see, for example, from the flat rejection of the cornerstone of Stoic ethics, the doctrine of oikeiosis. Given the separation and importance of the incorporeal soul, the oikeiosis becomes assimilation to the body, the flesh, and this is the cause of our greatest ignorance: And so though the divine spirit may stay awhile in the soul it cannot abide there … And why wonder at this? For there is nothing else of which we have secure and firm possession, since human affairs incline in opposite directions and swing to both extremes as in a balance and are subject to continual change. But the chief cause of ignorance is the flesh and kinship (ο9κε.ωσις) to the flesh (Gig. 28–29);

45 Anon. In Theaet. 7.14–20 with D.N. Sedley, in G. Bastianini–D.N. Sedley, “Commentarium in Platonis Theaetetum”, in Corpus dei papiri filosofici greci e latini, III (Florence 1995), 495. 46 For the purposes of this discussion there is no need to dwell on the further division of the irrational part. 47 The importance of this two-fold division also explains the original reading of the passage in the Theaetetus that is derived from the formula of the homoiosis: in the Platonic dialogue we read that one must be assimilated to God as far as is possible (κατA τ< δυνατν) for a mortal. In the passage of Stobaeus and other writings from the Imperial period, however, κατA τ< δυνατν indicates the part of us that is capable of being assimilated to God, i.e. the rational part, the intellect. 48 Cf., for example, D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, cit., 468–469.

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tenancy of the body is not to him [scil. Moses] merely that of the foreigner as immigrant settlers count it. To alienate himself from it (λλοτριNσεως), never to count it as his own (ο9κειNσεως), is, he holds, to give it its due (Conf. 82).

If the opposition is open here, elsewhere, as Carlos Lévy has shown, his strategy is subtler, aiming at an appropriation and hence a subordination of the key concepts of Stoicism:49 the oikeiosis is not to be understood as appropriation of its own nature, but as appropriation of the nature of God. The most interesting testimony is Post. 135, a passage that is a mirror image of the contrast between ο9κε.ωσις and λλοτρ.ωσις in the Conf. 82 just cited: “enstrangement on the human side brings about kingship with God (τJ3 δH + πρ<ς τ< γενητ<ν λλοτρ.ωσις πρ<ς "ε<ν ο9κε.ωσιν ε9ργσατο)”.50 The accounts analysed so far, then, confirm Philo’s convergence with the Platonists in his rejection of an immanentist ethic. But, as always in the case of Philo, convergence does not mean slavish imitation. Despite the underlying opposition between the platonic and the Stoic telos, in some passages Philo also echoes the Stoic theory, as, for example, in Migr. 128, where the (Pythagorean) invitation to “follow God” is defined as living in accordance with nature (τ< κολο6"ως τJ3 φ6σει ζ3ν).51 This apparent contradiction can be healed by two kinds of reasons, the first of which is compatible with Platonism, while the other—and more important—serves also to bring out Philo’s autonomy. As far as the first aspect is concerned, it is easy to understand that in this case too Philo is showing he is practising the same strategies of subordination and appropriation discussed above for the oikeiosis, because the two formulas are not compared as if they were of equal value; on the contrary, the Stoic telos is subordinated to the Platonic-Pythagorean telos. Following nature (Decal. 81: Fπμενον τJ3 φ6σει, note that here Philo combines the Pythagorean and Stoic formulas) 49 It is interesting to note that Eudorus too seems to be following a similar strategy in the case of another key concept of Stoic ethics, that of horme, cf. M. Bonazzi, “Eudorus’ Psychology and Stoic Ethics”, in M. Bonazzi–Ch. Helmig (eds.), Platonic Stoicism—Stoic Platonism. The Dialogue between Platonism and Stoicism in Antiquity (Leuven 2007), 109–132. 50 C. Lévy, “Éthique de l’immanence, éthique de la transcendence”, cit., 162–164, also indicates the differences that remain between this use of oikeiosis and homoiosis; cf. too Opif. 145–146, Plant. 55. 51 Migr. 128: “This is the goal of life extolled by the best philosophers, to live in accordance with nature; and it is attained whenever the intellect entered on virtue’s path, proceeds in the footsteps of right reason and follows God (κατD cχνος \ρ"οL λγου βα.νJη κα1 Mπηται "εG8)”.

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means recognising the greatness of the creator ex operibus and this, then, opens the way to one’s real end, which remains assimilation with God (Decal. 81, Praem. 11–13). The invitation to follow nature is a first step that allows us to reach God: in this sense, then, the adoption of the Stoic theory does not even conflict with the many passages in which Philo argues with those who give too much importance to our universe, neglecting its creator (Opif. 7). In this case too Philo demonstrates a certain ability in appropriating Stoic formulas to use them in a sense that is incompatible with Stoicism. In any case, the main reason for the presence of both formulas does not, I think, depend on Philo’s philosophical interest in reconciling two philosophical systems that were otherwise hostile to each other. Rather, the adoption of the Stoic formula is an interesting example of the freedom with which the Biblical exegete exploits the arguments of pagan philosophers. Even without going into detail, it is clear that the Stoic formula allows the Jewish Philo to clarify better another aspect of nature that is very important to him, the normative character of the physis inasmuch as it is created and ordered by God, and hence its being similar to the nomos—the term that, as we know, translates the Hebraic Torah: the Patriarchs “gladly accepted conformity with nature, holding that nature itself was, as indeed it is, the most venerable of statutes, and thus their whole life was of happy obedience to the Law” (Abr. 6). This insistence on the link between nature and God through the concept of law does not necessarily conflict with Platonism, but does mean a shifting of emphasis.52 In this sense, then, Philo also reveals his autonomy from Platonic tradition, from which he had however derived the doctrine of the homoiosis. 5. The analyses so far have shown—that at least is my hope—the liveliness of Platonism in the early Imperial age, at a decisive moment in its history, when various models and images of Plato, not necessarily compatible, but not completely irreconcilable either, were circulating together. The complexity also increased from the comparison with the other schools, which almost always had polemical purposes, but did not always necessarily lead to open controversy. Terms or concepts that for us distinguish a certain school were actually used in a slightly different sense by philosophers with another orientation, who were able in this way to vindicate the superiority of their own tradition over 52 Cf. V. Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie, cit., 127–131 and n. 84, 150–151.

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their adversaries. It is not difficult to find examples of these strategies of appropriation in Panaetius, Posidonius, Antiochus or Eudorus. And the same goes for the testimony of Philo: the adoption of the twofold division of causes into active and passive or of the oikeiosis in a context influenced by transcendence does not reflect a desire to reconcile Platonism and Stoicism or to construct a Stoically-influenced Platonism, but an attempt to subordinate Stoicism to Platonism. Some scholars have been tempted to accuse Philo of lack of clarity, eclecticism or confusion in his use of the doctrines of pagan philosophers. But the confusion—if that is the right word—is not Philo’s, but of philosophy in the first Empire: Philo, on the contrary, is, to adopt the term used by Runia,53 a “witness” of primary importance of Platonism in the first Imperial age, when it was oscillating between the two extremes of a Stoic or Pythagorean model. Taking stock of the philosophical complexity of the first Imperial age also serves to clarify the position of Philo, who showed himself capable of making choices with great autonomy: his evident affinity with Pythagorean Platonism does not mean he adhered passively to all its doctrines (e.g. in the case of the doctrine of principles). Sometimes, as we have seen in ethics with the use of the Stoic formula of the “life according to nature”, Philo even felt free to exploit theories that seem irreconcilable with the underlying Platonic outlook. But even here, we cannot really speak of eclecticism, because the use of the formulas is not in conflict with the other assumptions, but is an example of that type of subordination which we referred to previously. This example also served to show Philo’s priorities in the clearest possible way, which were not those of a philosopher, but of a ‘philosophically oriented exegete’, whose main interest was the explanation of Scripture, and not the construction of a coherent philosophical system. Thus, bearing these elements in mind, we might even speak of Philo as a participant in Platonism—and not only as a witness: a participant who, even if he was not recognised as such by the ‘official’ Platonic philosophers (the inverted commas are obligatory), contributed through his choices and his freedom in a very important way to show the richness and complexity of Platonism.

53 “Witness or Participant? Philo and the Neoplatonic Tradition”, in A. Vanderjagt– D. Pätzold (eds.), The Neoplatonic Tradition: Jewish, Christian and Islamic Themes (Köln 1991), 36–56.

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INDEX LOCORUM Achilles Isagoge in Aratum (ed. Maass) 24.55.9–17 42 24.55.12 42 24.55.17 42 24.55.18 42 Aëtius 1.3 1.6–7 1.7 1.11 1.12 1.18–20 1.23–24 2.1 2.2 2.2a 2.3 2.4 2.9 2.11 2.13 2.15 2.16 2.21 2.24 2.25 2.28 2.29 2.30 3.1 3.8 4.2 4.3 4.5 4.7 4.9 4.13 4.55

23 235 20, 23, 24, 45 23 23, 85 29 32 19, 23, 30, 45 19, 41 23 25, 30, 45 17, 23, 30, 37, 40, 45 41 23, 25 25 25, 41 41 19, 26 41 29, 41 25, 41 41 29 41, 42 42 17, 25 25 25 25 19 26 26

Alcinous Didaskalikos 167.18–20

242

Alexander Aphrodisiensis De fato 192.7 ff. 82 In De caelo (ed. Rescigno) Fr. 96a 66 Fr. 96b 66 Anonymus In Parmenidem (ed. Linguiti) 2.9–14 240 2.12 238 Anonymus In Theaetetum (ed. Bastianini-Sedley) 7.14–20 248 [Archytas] De principibus (ed. Thesleff) 19.5–20, 17 236 20.3–5 243 Aristoteles De anima Α 2. 403b20–25 17 Γ9 209 De caelo Α 3. 270b3 68 Α 10. 279b4 37 Α 10–12 36 Β 13 20 Γ 1. 298b14–299a1 32 De motu animalium 11 209 De philosophia (ed. Rose3) Fr. 12 59

266

index locorum

Fr. 18 56 Fr. 19 61 Fr. 21 61 (ed. Ross) Fr. 18 36 Fr. 19a 61 Fr. 19b 61 Fr. 19c 61 Fr. 20 37 Ethica nicomachea Α 13. 1102a28–1103a1 193 Metaphysica Α 4. 985b18 64 Λ 8. 1074a31 ff. 87 Meteorologica Α 8. 345a26–31 42 Α 14 58 Physica Α 7. 190b5 64 Δ 1. 208b29 123 Politica Η 1. 1323a24–27 72 Protrepticus (ed. Ross) Fr. 10b 176 Topica Α 14.105b19–25 17 [Aristoteles] De mundo 6.398a10–25 Mirabilia 30

178 70

Aspasius In Ethica nicomachea 24.3–9 72 Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 12.546e 12.546f

98, 100 91, 95

Atticus (ed. Des Places) Fr. 4.8–17 56 Augustinus Contra Academicos 3.23 37 De civitate Dei 7.28 245 18.41 37 Biblia Testamentum vetus Deuteronomium 23:3 92 24:16 27 Ecclesiastes 7:9 199 7:15 79 7:20 199 8:10 79 8:14 79 9:2–3 79 10:3–4 199 11:10 199 Exodus 2:11–12 88 2:12 89 2:12–13 48 2:13 89 2:15 48 5:2 46 32:17–19 109 Genesis 1:1–2 43, 86 1:2 148 1:14 86 2:4 145 2:4–5 145 2:7 53, 144, 146 2:9 152, 194 2:10–14 194 2:16–17 157 2:17 157 2:18 135 2:19 165 3:5 94

index locorum 3:12–13 3:14 3:22 4:16 4:26 6:5–7 6:10 6:14 8:22 9:3 11:4 15:12 15:15 15:18 16:12 17:17 18:11–12 19:4–11 19:15–29 19:33–35 21:25 21:25–31 22:23–24 23:2–3 26:19–22 26:19–23 26:23 27:28 27:29 28:17 38:7 38:9 40:16 Leviticus 3:3 8:29 9:42 11:4 Psalmi 4:5 9:22–32 9:37 14:35 34:17 36:24 37:6 38:12

100 91, 194 206 76 212 136 199 137 86 213 80 33 227 47 106 208 210 90 22 29 118 51 109 202 51 118 51 194 48, 194 29 93 95 95 28 114 194 134 199 79 79 79 199 199 199 199

39:2 40:6 94:3–7

267 199 199 79

Testamentum novum Epistula ad Romanos 8:24 213 Evangelium secundum Lucam 21:5–36 87 Evangelium secundum Marcum 13:1–37 87 Evangelium secundum Matthaeum 13:24–30 102 13:36–43 102 24:1–41 87 25:31–46 87 26:37 199 Calcidius In Timaeum (ed. Waszink) 238.3–5 191 Censorinus De die natali 4.3

58

Cicero Academica posteriora 1.24 230 1.24–29 229, 235 1.24–32 11, 224 1.26 231 1.29 228 1.30 231 1.45 115 Academica priora 2.14–42 11, 224 2.19 69 2.19–21 225 2.24 224 2.79 69 2.112–131 30 2.112–146 20 2.116 30 2.117–124 119 2.118–119 37 2.122–123 20

268 2.123 27 2.124 25 2.129 30 2.129–141 20 2.135 227 De fato 17–18 228 De finibus bonorum et malorum 1.6 220 1.30–31 100 2.14 97 2.33–34 224 3.43 72 5.9–74 224 5.10 19 5.24 ff. 224 5.30 72 De inventione 1.6.8 26 8 19 De natura deorum 1.25–41 19 1.113 98 1.123 220 2.22 78 2.37–39 131 2.75–76 131 2.88 82 2.93 82 De oratore 2.66 26 2.117 14 Tusculanae disputationes 1.18–23 120 1.18–24 25 1.23 120 1.46–47 120 2.61 220 3.11 198 3.12 204 3.53 218 3.74 218 3.82–83 215 3.83 228 4.12–15 210, 215 4.14–15 204 4.23 174

index locorum 4.38–46 4.46 4.80 5.96

73 72 213 96

Clemens Alexandrinus Stromata (ed. Stählin-Früchtel-Treu) 2.2.6 238 2.5 243 2.6.87 102 2.11.51 238 2.21.128 72 2.127–132 20 Critolaus (ed. Wehrli) Fr. 12 60 Fr. 13 59 Fr. 19–20 71 Diogenes Laërtius 2.8 26 2.9 42 3.69 235 3.72 56 3.76 235 5.30 72 5.31 73 7.24–25 243 7.46 137 7.54 128 7.63 66 7.87 138 7.116 210 7.132 37 7.136 129 7.137 127 7.139 135 7.142 129 7.159 191 9.86 69 9.136 97 Epicurus Epistula ad Herodotum 41 89 43–44 82, 85 46–47 85

index locorum 73 83 Epistula ad Menoeceum 129 89 128–129 92 130–132 100 132 95 Epistula ad Pythoclem 88 84 88–90 83 Fragmenta (ed. Usener) 304 84 409 91 435 96 436 96 437 96 438 96 439 96 (ed. Arrighetti2) Fr. [1] 136, 2 97 Fr. [7] 2 97 Fr. [22] 1, 3 98 Fr. [22] 1, 2–3 98 Fr. [22] 4, 1 95 Fr. [39] 42, 1 95 Eudorus (ed. Mazzarelli) T 3–5 236 T6 243 T 25 246 Eusebius Praeparatio evangelica 8.14.386 79 Galenus De Hippocratis et Platonis placitis (ed. De Lacy) 4.3.2 215 4.7.16–17 218 4.7.28 220 4.7.33 220 4.7.37 220 4.7.421–424 97 5.1.4 215 5.2.294, 33–296, 17 174

5.4.312, 29–34 5.5.21 5.5.26 6.2.368, 20–26 9.7.588 9.7.596 ff.

269 192 220 220 192 190 190

Gellius Noctes atticae 7.2.7–8 19.1

204 198, 205

Hesiodus Theogonia 116 f.

123

Hierocles Stoicus Elementa ethica (ed. Bastianini-Long) Col. 4. 38–54 137 Hippolytus Refutatio omnium haeresium 1.8.10 26, 42 7.26.1 238 7.32.7 238 Iamblichus De communi mathematica scientia 4 238 Iosephus Flavius Adversus Apionem 2.180 81 Antiquitates Iudaicae 10.277–278 81 Irenaeus Adversus haereses 1.20.2

238

Iustinus Dialogus cum Tryphone 2.120 238 Lucretius De rerum natura 2.80–124

82

270 2.218–224 2.801–805 2.1022–1174 2.1150–1174 4.23–35 4.1073–1191 5.236–250 5.324–350 5.826–836

index locorum 82 69 83 59 82 97, 100 58 59 59

Macrobius In somnium Scipionis 1.15.4 42 1.15.7 42 Manilius Astronomica 1.718–728 1.750–754

42 42

Marcus Aurelius Ad se ispum 3.16 174 4.41 174 6.10 39 7.66 174 9.28 39 12.1 174 12.14 39 [Ocellus] De rerum omnium natura 1.2 82 1.9 (11) 66 1.11 (13) 66 3.1 (38) 66 Origenes Contra Celsum 5.33 8.51

238 97

Philo De Abrahamo 6 14 38

250 213 184

61 247 65 92 70 46 72 176 73 177 77 46 87 247 100 94 147–150 179 150 92, 178, 179 162–163 7, 22, 34 164 92 236 179, 187 256–261 204 269 6 272 3 De aeternitate mundi 1–2 35 3 37 3–6 35 6–8 84 7 35, 55 7–19 35, 37, 38 8 36 8 4, 130, 131 8–9 130 9 36, 41, 85, 127 10 38, 44, 55, 65 10–11 36, 56, 66 10–12 84 11 65 12 4, 6, 36, 55, 66 13 36, 56 13–16 86 14 44 14–16 36, 56 16 55 17 66 18 36, 55, 130 19 36, 86 20 56 20–24 61, 66 20–27 61 20–54 57, 62 20–149 38 21 65 24 65

index locorum 25–27 28–34 35–38 39–44 45–46 45–51 46 47 48 48–51 51 52 52–54 54 55 55–75 56 56–69 59–77 62–64 70 71–73 74 75 76 76–77 76–78 76–103 77 78 78–88 79–82 79–116 83–84 85–88 85–99 86 88 89 89–103 90 94 94–103 101–103 104–105 104–107 107–110

86 61 61 61 124 61, 62 130 28, 124 62, 121, 124 4, 124, 130 130 121 61, 130 121, 130 60, 66 57, 59, 61 59 59, 61 59 59 60 60 60, 65 60, 127 85 38, 55, 128 63 130 65 63 128 63 57 63, 128 128 63 129, 184 128 129 128 129 129, 130 63 129 63 128 66

107–112 111 113–116 117–149 118–119 120–123 124–129 125 130–132 132–137 138–142 143–144 145–149 150 De agricultura 10 17 25 26 30 36 37 37–38 38 54 56 65 72–73 73 78 80 88 89 94 97 108 124 135 139–141 140 141 De animalibus 62 De Cherubim 5 14–15 22–23

271 64 183 64 15, 38, 57 57 57 58 184 58 57 57 56, 57 58, 59 35, 37 227 93, 180, 181 176 111 185 175 97 91 175 237 181 176 186 187 180, 181 177, 179, 189 185 177 184 92, 93, 176 92, 93 133 133 132 131 232 34 152 121 185

272

index locorum

41 178, 179 43 152 49 152 52 149 57 178, 179 64 166, 182 87 147 90–93 93 93 6, 175 97 6 125 242 128 228 De confusione linguarum 19 178 21 186 23 176, 177 27 178 33 184 55 178 78 179 82 249 87 6 105 178 112 186 114–115 8, 80 117 97 125–127 189 133 178, 189, 191 138 117 144 48, 92 179 188 De congressu eruditionis gratia 21 177, 181, 182, 189 46 109 48 107 51 237 52 8, 108 55 4, 184 57 93, 180 59 93 59–60 175 60 180 80 175 92 179 100 180 105 237 141 225

143 169 172 211 De Decalogo 30–31 58 73 81 100 101 122 142 ff. De ebrietate 22 46 54 58 69 ff. 69–70 70 71 75 83 94 97–98 98 105 111 162–205 166–206 169 169–205 171 172 173 174 176 193–202 198–202 199 200 200–201 200–202 201 202 203

177 93, 175 187 175 7, 66 56 247 249, 250 247 247 185 180, 185 177 99 179 178, 179 182 189 175, 177 180 180 237 111 184 109 179 184 223 104 177 5, 29 69 7, 69 69 7, 69 97 30, 31 30 30, 34, 80 111 47, 90 30 178 109 30

index locorum 205 31, 32 206–220 175 210–213 88 213 47 214 176 217 99 223 181 De fuga et inventione 18–19 175 24 186 39 185 45 176, 177 46 182 46–47 195 49 177 63 247 68–72 149 69 187, 188 71–72 182, 187 75 182 91 177, 182 129 8, 105 133–136 189 134 183 136 8, 113 147–148 48 148 8, 89, 90 158 184 161 f. 114 182 182–184 190 179 190–193 177, 178 202 106 209 4, 105, 106 210 106 De gigantibus 4 179 12–15 176, 188 15 176 17 176 18 99 22–29 183 28–29 189, 248 30–31 176, 188 33 175 35 93 44 92

47 183 53 183 55 183 60 175, 176 62 46 De Iosepho 32 f. 117 43 94 49 180 61 175, 185 79 185 142 178 154 175 264 176 De migratione Abrahami 2 187 3 176, 180 3–7 181, 189 7 176 8 195 8–9 175 9 93 16 176 18 175, 186 20 178 21–22 176 29 175 60 97, 185 66 186 66–69 194 67–68 186, 188 69 47, 88 100 177, 178, 179 119 180 124–125 177 128 249 136–138 195 137 210 137–138 187 141 178, 179 147 72 148 183 151 93 178 163 178–179 162 179 163 180 163

273

274

index locorum

181 46 184 46 185 186 187 46 188–190 176 190 163 192 180 195 187 200 181 206 182 207 177 212 181 213 181 219 180, 185 De mutatione nominum 2 3 10 6, 7, 191 15 117 21 176, 178 29–32 188 33 187, 188 33–34 176 54 195 56 180, 189 67 7, 28, 47, 54 107 177 110 182 111 177, 179, 185, 189 113 178 123 183 123–124 184 135 6 138 177 171 175 174 92 177–187 208 179 3 180 183, 209 181 209 186 177 204–205 47 214 177 215 180 222–223 184, 191 239 177 243 183 257 182

260 De opificio mundi 3 7 8 8–9 10 16–25 20 24 26 28 29–35 36 43 45 49 53–54 54 58 ff. 65 66 67 69 ff. 71 72–75 77 79 81 100 102 117 129 134 ff. 135 139 142 145–146 146 147 148–150 151 152 153–154 155 157 158

92 138 68, 250 235 139 235 235 230 139 126, 138 138 139 138 138 115 244 92 22, 34 163 6 138 182 155 3, 92 149 151 185 184 4, 6, 238 244 138, 178, 185, 231 145 155 176, 181, 183 177, 178 138 249 3, 138, 184 67, 144 144 144, 247 93, 94 144 144 92 91, 97, 175, 176

index locorum 158–167 93 160–162 91 161 192 165 178, 179, 191 165–166 96 166 138, 183 169 144 171 8, 29, 87 De plantatione 1–8 231 3 67 18 183, 191 22 92 25 176 25–26 176, 188 44 176 55 249 111 99 133 177 144 177 De posteritate Caini 2 4, 76 14 237 15 117 18 8, 112 22 183 25 6 28 112, 114 29 152 39–42 46 55 180, 187 61 175 71–72 93 74 184 98 181 118 6 122 6 127 149 135 249 137 28, 176 137–138 184 156 93 177 179 182 176 De praemiis et poenis 11 ff. 11 11–13 226, 250

275

13 186 17 180 17 ff. 93 19 180 21 185 26 92, 182 31 175 40 239 41 59 48 183–186 104 189 119 176 121 176 144 184 De providentia 1.5 42 1.6–8 42 1.7–8 44 1.20–22 42 1.22 15, 43 1.37 79 1.50 4, 78 1.170–171 45 1.172 46 2.3 39 2.8 185 2.18 175, 180, 181, 185 2.45 40 2.48 40, 41, 85, 131 2.53–54 131 2.56 41 2.59–60 41 2.60 7, 67 2.70 41 2.71 41 2.73 41 2.74 41, 131 2.76 41 2.85 40 2.89 41 2.101 42 De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 2 46, 165 12 117 26 5, 98, 99 33 91 45 186

276 46–47 49 68 73 74 78 84 95 97 104 105–106 112 120 136 136–137 137 De sobrietate 7 61 67 De somniis 1.4 1.6 1.14–16 1.14–25 1.14–33 1.21 1.21–23 1.21–24 1.22 1.23 1.25 1.27 1.27–33 1.29 1.30 1.30–32 1.30–34 1.31 1.32 1.33 1.34 1.36 1.46 1.50 1.52–55 1.52–56

index locorum 185, 190 175 136 180 184, 191 152 152 176 180, 189 181 176–179, 189 177 167 28 184 183 185 94 94 241 24 51 24 118 f. 25, 27 29 51, 52 25, 26, 28 25 27, 51, 180, 187 120, 178 24 184, 191 3, 25, 28, 183, 184 28 51–53 25 25, 28, 178 27, 180 184 92 176 92 7, 26 53, 54

1.54–60 1.57–58 1.58 1.67 1.77–78 1.110 1.111 1.116 1.118 1.128 1.136–137 1.138 1.139 1.145 1.146 1.148 1.152 1.182 1.184 1.187–188 1.192 1.199 1.209–212 1.220 1.246 2.8–9 2.10–16 2.12–14 2.13 2.13–14 2.13–16 2.48–49 2.50–51 2.60 2.72 2.96 2.106 2.109 2.150 2.151–153 2.153 2.176 2.181–184 2.209 2.237 2.245–249 2.253

195 119 8, 111 117 180 176 185 6 177, 189 184 184 176 176, 188 7, 28 179 176 186 111 7, 8, 29, 77, 240 177 183 114 195 117 179 47 47 178 97, 177 179 175 8, 100 178, 179 94 176 178 175 177 93 186 184 92 88 96 176, 177 177 164

index locorum 2.258 177 2.276 180, 184 2.283 109 2.294 113 De specialibus legibus 1.6 183, 184 1.9 93 1.10 195 1.28 59 1.34 59 1.36–40 92 1.38–39 28 1.44 117, 195 1.50 92 1.51 117 1.66 181 1.99 185 1.145–148 186, 189, 194 1.148 175 1.150 93 1.171 183 1.192 175, 177 1.193 93 1.201 179, 182 1.206 175 1.211 180, 182, 185, 187 1.213 28, 184 1.219 179, 188 1.263–265 195 1.270 112 1.322 92 1.325 88 1.327–345 47 1.328–329 87 1.329 241 1.333 182, 231 1.339 92 1.344 88 2.9 180 2.30 185 2.37 180 2.49 175 2.62 184 2.142 184 2.147 177 2.161 94 2.163 175, 182

2.176 2.195 3.8–9 3.9 3.10–11 3.32–34 3.43 3.92 3.99 3.111 3.184 3.190 3.194 4.68 4.69 4.79

277 237 175 93, 94 93 5, 98 94 175 181 186 178 179, 184 22 175 182 184 180, 184, 185, 187, 188, 193 180 231 178, 189 180 5, 99 93 175 93 182–184, 189, 191 184 155 176, 247 191 184

4.85 ff. 4.92 4.92–93 4.95 4.100 4.112 4.113 4.122 4.123 4.137 4.145 4.188 4.190 4.217 De virtutibus 3 181 13 186, 188 13–14 177 40 186 68 175 113 186 126 91 136 175 168 f. 142, 247 205 184 207 94 208 91 214 46 De vita contemplativa 2 229, 239

278 8–9 13 34 69 De vita Mosis 1.22 1.23 1.23–24 1.24 1.25–29 1.26 1.28 1.29 1.50 1.160 1.174 1.185 1.212 1.289 2.23 2.58 2.81 2.81–82 2.82 2.139 2.148 2.195 2.201 2.211 2.261 2.265 2.301 Hypothetica 11 15 Legum allegoriae 1.1 1.5 1.11 1.19 ff. 1.20 1.21 1.28 1.29 1.29–30 1.30 1.33

index locorum 6 92 176 93 175 175 33 175 180, 187, 188 184, 187 91, 94, 175 188 184 175, 180 117 175 59 27 93 180 184, 188 178 183 185 231 93 176 178 116 183 93 179 179 176, 177, 179, 181 147 185 145 6, 117 145, 146 149, 177 149, 189 177, 182, 185, 189 121 148, 175, 176, 183,

1.35 1.37 1.39 1.40 1.43 1.43–62 1.45 1.47 1.49 1.53 1.56 1.57 1.58 1.59 1.59–60 1.60 1.61 1.62 1.63–87 1.65 1.68 1.70 1.82 1.82–83 1.86 1.87 1.90 1.91 1.92 ff. 1.92–94 1.95 1.100 1.103 f. 1.108 2.1–3 2.5 2.6 2.8 2.14 2.15 2.16 2.16–17 2.19 2.22 2.24 2.25

187 149 148 148, 149, 184 189 150 152, 153 152, 153 152 187 155 153 151 152 153 157 157 156 156, 165 153 154, 155 189 154, 186 176 189 91 154 155 189, 191 157, 158 155 157 157, 165 151, 176 176 237 177 181, 231 181 165, 179 162 165, 166 93 134 134 177, 182 178

index locorum 2.26 2.29 2.29–30 2.32–33 2.35 2.38 2.40 2.45 2.46 2.49 2.50 2.53–59 2.56 2.57 2.64 2.65 2.67 2.69 2.71–72 2.73 2.74–76 2.75 2.76 2.99 2.103 2.105 2.105–108 2.107 3.1 3.2 3.7–8 3.8 3.12–13 3.14 3.30 3.38 3.41 3.42 3.48 3.49–50 3.61 3.61–64 3.61–66 3.65–68 3.67 3.69 3.69–75

91 176 178 161 182 179 177 182 189 179 178, 187 90 151 176 179 6 179 195 93 179 99 181 92 178, 187 176 92 93 93 179 93 47 88, 93 46 93 80 48 176 176 237 179 100 96, 100 99 93 96, 100 176 90

3.71 3.72 3.75 3.76 3.78 3.80 3.96 3.101–103 3.103–104 3.107–108 3.107–112 3.108 3.110 3.111 3.111–114 3.114 3.114–117 3.115 3.123 3.128 3.129 3.129–131 3.130 3.136–137 3.138 3.138–139 3.140 3.140–141 3.140–143 3.141 3.143 3.147 3.148–149 3.151–152 3.155–156 3.157 3.158 3.159 3.160 3.161 3.175 3.185 3.185–186 3.200 3.212 3.220 3.221–222

279 176 176 93, 176 93 143 176 242 92, 178 180 93 96 100, 177, 181 178 6, 181 93 91, 92 194 178, 186, 189, 192 181 181, 186, 188 181, 227 114 181 181 92, 175 91 99 5 8 92 99 91, 175, 181 97 176 97 94 175 175 5, 97, 185 176, 184 5, 232, 238 182, 184 179 178 93 181 189

280

index locorum

3.229 184 3.232 150 3.234–235 176 3.236 93 3.246 92 3.248 184 3.251 181 3.251–253 93 Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum 1.4 176 1.13 186 1.16 185 1.22 178, 179 2.8 179 2.33 176 2.50 184 2.52 178 2.55 177 2.68 239 2.73 7, 68 2.85 68 2.100 178 2.115 181, 189, 194 Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesim 1.10 184, 185 1.10–13 194 1.12 175 1.13 175, 186 1.22 185 1.24 179, 185 1.32 177, 179 1.37 178, 139 1.46 100 1.48 175, 179, 194 1.52 179, 185 1.55 206 1.70 176 1.75 185 1.79 202, 212 1.83 176 2.4 121, 137, 184 2.5 184 2.11 184 2.11–12 185 2.12 176, 179 2.14 178 2.16 186

2.34 2.49 2.52 2.54 2.55–57 2.56 2.57 2.59 2.62 2.69 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.13 3.16 3.28 3.33 3.41 3.49c 3.49e 3.51 3.56 3.115 4.1 4.8 4.15 4.15–16 4.17 4.19 4.37 4.42 4.65–66 4.73 4.74–75 4.77 4.87 4.101 4.110 4.114 4.117–119 4.121 4.153 4.159 4.167 4.186 4.193

176, 179, 182 179 189 6, 208 185 93 213, 227 180, 182–184, 189 247 176 185 67, 179, 180, 183 179 182, 185 164 48, 55, 72, 90, 227 185 4, 8, 106 178 4 6 185 208 186 178 67 179, 185 210 211 210 175 8, 90, 181, 186 185, 189 202, 206–208 176 176 109 210 185 195 189 182 176 175 226 187 179

index locorum 4.206 185 4.215 179, 182, 194 4.216–217 181 4.217 48 4.230 182 4.242 178 4.245 92 Quis rerum divinarum heres sit 45 176 55 183, 184 57 175, 176 64 181 68 176 85 176 88 185, 187 107 180 109–110 189 119 180 125 114 132 177, 182 152–153 67 156 244 184–185 177, 181, 185, 187, 189 185 176 187 229, 237 189 237 216 237 227 110 232–233 185, 193 233 187 242 178, 184 243 187 243–248 31 244–248 109 245 184 246 31, 34, 110 247–248 32 248 33, 110 257 179 258–259 33 269 187 274 176 279 109 283 7, 68, 184 285–286 227 286 178

281

289 46 300 164 301 3 301 ff. 182 Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat 3 186 5 185 7 47, 72, 226, 227 9 72, 175 15 176 16 18 17 176 25 181 26 180 32 46 33 177, 178 43–44 108 52 179 53–54 177, 181, 188 81 ff. 183 82–83 189 85 189 90 184 91 186 98 176 99 179 100–103 176, 185 138–139 212 154 231 159 187 160 152 168 185 Quod Deus immutabilis sit 2 176 11 229, 237 15 175 16–19 95 22 112 35–36 121, 134, 136 37–40 136 41–44 136, 182 42 149 45–47 164 45–48 136 46 177 47–48 228 48 247

282

index locorum

71 181, 185 84 183, 184, 191 111 91, 93, 175 143 175 Quod omnis probus liber sit 18 185 26 184 45 180, 181 97 121 159 185 Philodemus Index stoicorum (ed. Dorandi) Col. 51 128 Philoponus De aeternitate mundi contra Proclum 212.20–22 66 In Physica 156.20 64 Photius Bibliotheca Cod. 105 438b19–24 439a8–14 525a30–b21 Plato Leges 964e–965a Phaedo 64a ff. 96b–c 97d–e 98a Phaedrus 248a8 ff. Protagoras 352b3–c2 Respublica 429b–c 430e 433d–435c 483b8–c1 533d

233 243 246 70

178 171 16 16 16 176 174 155 154 154 173 6

Sophista 228 246a–c Theaetetus 150a–151b 152e 176a–b 176b 179e–181b 180e 184c–d 195a Timaeus 27c4–5 27c5 31a–b 32c–33b 33c 37e 39e 41a 41a–b 42a6–b2 43a5–8 43a6–7 43d2–4 44b9–c1 47a–d 49a 61c5 ff. 69c2 ff. 69d1–4 69d1–5 70a6 70b ff. 70b2 85c1 86b ff. 90a–d 90c–d Plinius Historia naturalis 8.120–123

173 16 33 16 247 113 32 16 173 6 37 23 87 86 62 62, 126 230 56 8 172 176 185 176 176 22 6 172 172 185 172 178 189 178 191 173 189 246

70

index locorum Plutarchus Adversus Colotem 1117a 95 Consolatio ad Apollonium 102d 204 De animae procreatione in Timaeo 1012e 243 De communibus notitiis adversus Stoicos 1077b 129 1077c 124 1077d–e 62 1077e 126 De defectu oraculorum 415f–416a 66 425d–e 85 428e–f 243 De E apud Delphos 391c–394c 236 De Iside et Osiride 369a 85 De tuenda sanitate praecepta 126b 98 127c 199 128b 199 136f 99 Quaestiones platonicae 3.1001f–1002a 243 [Plutarchus] Epitome 1.3 15 2.25 26 De Homero 2.93 38 De libidine et aegritudine 4–6 219 Porphyrius Vita Plotini 20

244

Posidonius (ed. Edelstein-Kidd) F142 192 F143–145 192 F146 192 F154 174, 219 F165 220

F169

283 174, 220

Proclus In Timaeum 3.212.8

56

Quintilianus Institutio oratoria 3.6.42 7.2.2 7.2.6 7.4.1

26 39 26 26

Seneca De ira 1.16.7 218 2.1–4 197 2.1.3–4 207 2.1–5 197 2.1.3 197 2.2.2 205 2.3.2 174, 197, 209, 219 2.3.4 208 2.4.1 198 De vita beata 5.4 99 Epistulae ad Lucilium 11.1–2 205 31.11 174 57.3–4 205 59.2 211 65 245 65.16 174 65.21 174 71.27 174 71.30 174 76.25 174 78.10 174 92.10 174 113.18 198 114.23–25 174 120.15–18 174 Naturales quaestiones 1.7.2 69

284

index locorum

Sextus Empiricus Adversus mathematicos 7.126–134 179 7.171–172 6 7.203 ff. 100 7.258 6 9.80 134 10.258–262 243 Pyrrhoniae hypotyposes 1.7 108 1.120 69 1.145–163 30 1.151 31 3.17–18 82 3.194 92 Speusippus (ed. Isnardi Parente) T 72 238 Stobaeus Eclogae (ed. Wachsmuth-Hense) 1.1.29b (37 W.) 24 1.8.105, 8–106, 4 127 1.8.106, 5–23 127 1.48.7 (317 W.) 25 2.7 72 2.7.3b. 46, 10–17 72 2.7.3 f.49,8–50,10 246 Stoici veteres (ed. Arnim = Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta) 1.61 149 1.87 158 1.103–104 123 1.109 159 1.201 215 1.202 151 1.215 218 1.230 143 1.373 153 1.484 148 1.509 131 1.511 129

1.537 1.548 2.53 2.57 2.83 2.182 2.184 2.186 2.187 2.204–205 2.207 2.300–312 2.302 2.334 2.358 2.366 2.368 2.396 2.397 2.443 2.446 2.451 2.453 2.458 2.473 2.505 2.509 2.510–513 2.511 2.515 2.532 2.543 2.573 2.609 2.612 2.613 2.618 2.619 2.620 2.641 2.684 2.713 2.716 2.745 2.802 2.823 2.824

143 131 137 138 149 132 133 133 133 133 133 235 139, 146 5 138 128 128 62 4, 62, 124 148 148 136 136 134, 136, 137 148, 156 131 127 126 138 126 162 131 148 129 128 124 129 129 123 131 131 138 134, 148 138 137 193 193

index locorum 2.826 2.827 2.828 2.829 2.830 2.831 2.832 2.833 2.837 2.848 2.877 2.879 2.920 2.930 2.932 2.958 2.960 2.962 2.964 2.974 2.981 2.998 2.1000 2.1006 2.1007 2.1013 2.1033 2.1064 2.1150 2.1151 2.1153 3.4 3.11 3.106–107 3.182 3.183 3.202 3.214 3.217 3.218 3.225 3.226 3.255 3.257 3.262 3.263 3.264

174 193 193 193 193 193 193 138, 193 191 149 148 135 138 164 164 159 159 138, 159 156 158, 159 160 159 158, 204 160 159 128, 134 148 62, 125, 126 131 131 131 138 151 72 143 143 151 150, 151 152 156 152 152 154 151 154, 155 153–155, 161 153, 155

3.325 158, 161 3.336 138 3.337 138 3.355 160 3.356 161 3.361 160, 161 3.432 210, 215 3.459 151, 183 3.466 218 3.467 97 3.474 97 3.498 161 3.530 152 3.537 158 3.564 161 3.571 202 3.574 218 3.600 161 3.657 151 (ed. Long-Sedley) 28 O 62, 125 28 P 62, 124 44 F 127 46 P 128 47 J 136 47 P 134 47 Q 136 47 R 137 51 A–E 126 51 D–E 127 53 B 137 53 K 174 57 G 95 Simplicius In Categorias (ed. Kalbfleisch) 78.19 66 134.5–7 67 In De caelo (ed. Heiberg) 293.13–15 66 358.27–360.3 56 In Physica (ed. Diels) 26.7–13 235 181.1 243 181.11 243 181.7–30 236 181.17 243

285

286 181.19 181.22 181.26–27 181.29

index locorum 238, 243 243 243 243

Strato Lampsacenus (Ed. Wehrli) Fr. 51–53 67 Fr. 53 67 (Ed. Sharples) Fr. 50A–B 67 Fr. 50C 67 Fr. 50D 67 Thearidas De natura (ed. Thesleff) 201.16–18 237 Themistius In De Caelo (ed. Landauer) â ì. 27–31 67 Theo Rhetor Progymnasmata 11

Theo Smyrnaeus Expositio rerum mathematicarum 73 244 Theophrastus Fragmenta (ed. Fortenbaugh-SharplesHuby-Gutas) 184 57 185 58 230 235 365A 70 365B 71 365CD 71 Physicae opiniones (ed. Diels) 6 37 12 39 [Timaeus] De universa natura 205. 5–225.10 236 Xenocrates (ed. Isnardi Parente) Fr. 213 245

39

INDEX OF ANCIENT NAMES Aenesidemus, 2, 29–31, 47, 49, 69, 71, 103, 104, 106, 111, 223 Aëtius, 14, 17, 19, 20, 23–27, 37, 41, 42, 46, 49 Albinus, 171, 178 Alcinous, 242 Alexander of Aphrodisias, 56, 66, 139, 160 Alexander Polyhistor, 243 Ammonius (Plutarch’s teacher), 236, 237, 239 Anaxagoras, 16, 26, 28, 42 Anaximander, 43 Andronicus, 66, 67 Antigonus of Carystus, 70 Antiochus of Ascalon, 2, 3, 9, 11, 69, 120, 122, 137, 139, 223–232, 235, 245, 251 Arcesilaus, 19, 115, 223 Archytas, 17, 223, 236 Aristippus, 89 Aristotle, 7, 17–20, 23, 32, 36–38, 40, 44, 47, 55, 56, 58, 59, 61, 64–73, 77, 84, 88, 123, 176, 192, 193, 209, 219, 226, 227, 234, 238, 242 Arius Didymus, 21, 72 Atticus, 56 Boethus the Peripatetic, 66 Boethus the Stoic, 4, 55, 63–65, 85, 128, 129 Carneades, 19, 48, 104, 116, 223 Charmadas, 223 Chrysippus, 4, 18, 19, 41, 48, 62, 63, 97, 124–126, 128–131, 138, 141, 158–160, 174, 192, 204, 214, 218, 220, 222, 223 Cicero, 11, 14, 19, 20, 23, 27, 30, 34, 37, 38, 48, 49, 72, 77, 96, 107, 119, 120, 122, 131, 158, 159, 178, 198,

200, 201, 204, 205, 213, 216, 220, 221, 224, 225, 228 Cleanthes, 40, 41, 85, 129, 131, 143, 223, 247 Clement of Alexandria, 72, 102, 171, 224, 234, 238 Clitomachus, 19, 223 Critolaus, 4, 7, 55, 57, 59, 60, 61, 63–65, 71, 72 Democritus, 17, 18, 26, 36, 64, 83, 85, 123 Diogenes Laertius, 21, 30, 133, 235 Diogenes of Babylon, 4, 55, 65, 128 Empedocles, 18, 40, 41, 85, 131 Epictetus, 10, 171, 174, 198–200, 204, 205, 209 Epicurus, 8, 18, 36, 39, 58, 67, 75– 102, 123 Eudemus of Rhodes, 18 Eudorus of Alexandria, 1, 3, 7, 11, 66, 152, 223, 225, 226, 230, 232, 236, 237–244, 246, 249, 251 Galen, 134, 171, 178, 186, 190, 192, 193, 218, 220 Gorgias, 17 Heraclitus, 16, 26, 32, 178, 179, 183 Hippias, 17 Leucippus, 64, 89 Lucretius, 25, 39, 59, 100 Macrobius, 25, 42 Melissus, 40 Ocellus Lucanus, 6, 7, 58, 66, 84, 223 Origen, 199, 203, 205

288

index of ancient names

Panaetius, 4, 55, 85, 128, 198, 251 Parmenides, 16, 32, 40, 85, 131 Polemon, 223–225, 227 Philolaus, 6, 223, 238 Plato, 3, 6, 16–18, 24, 32, 36, 37, 39, 41, 43, 55, 56, 58, 62, 66, 68, 69, 81, 86, 90, 96, 119, 123, 126, 139, 140, 154, 159, 169, 171–174, 176, 178, 180, 181, 185–187, 189, 190, 192, 223–226, 230, 232–235, 237, 238, 241, 242, 245, 246, 250 Plotinus, 139, 171 Plutarch, 15, 49, 56, 60, 62, 77, 125, 126, 130, 139, 171, 201, 202, 215, 237, 243 Posidonius, 9, 42, 122, 171, 174, 175, 178, 185, 192, 193, 198, 219, 220, 232, 251 Pyrrho, 103 Pythagoras, 223, 225–227, 243, 246 Seneca, 10, 21, 77, 122, 174, 198–200, 205, 207–209, 211, 216–218, 221, 245

Severus, 56 Sextus Empiricus, 30, 69, 92, 103– 106, 140, 178 Socrates, 16, 33, 171, 174, 195, 246 Speusippus, 44, 223, 238, 245 Strato of Lampsacus, 67, 109 Tertullian, 25, 102 Thales, 21, 38, 43 Theophrastus, 4, 7, 11, 14, 18, 19, 27, 37–39, 42, 55–59, 63–65, 69–71, 235 Timaeus of Locri, 223 Timon of Phlius, 75 Xenarchus, 67, 68 Xenocrates, 44, 119, 223–225, 230, 243, 245 Xenophanes, 27, 38, 40, 238 Xenophon, 171 Zeno of Citium, 40, 85, 123, 131, 159, 205, 214, 218, 223

INDEX OF MODERN NAMES Abel K., 46, 50, 166, 197, 198, 218 Algra K.A., 5, 18, 21, 48, 82, 86, 121, 171, 235 Annas J., 69, 71, 72 Arnaldez R., 59, 60, 63, 64, 68, 77, 84, 85, 86, 88 Arnim H. von, 1, 2, 7, 29, 61, 64, 65, 121, 122, 124, 127–133, 137, 138, 141, 199, 202 Asmis E., 174 Ausland H.W., 6

Decleva Caizzi F., 29 Desbordes B.A., 169 Diels H., 7, 13–18, 20, 21, 24, 27, 37, 39, 42, 43, 58–60, 64, 65 Dillon J., 3, 4, 11, 32, 56, 66–69, 72, 73, 101, 140, 154, 169, 170, 183, 200, 202, 214, 234, 239, 244, 245 Donini P., 197, 198, 235 Dorandi T., 21, 70 Döring K., 171 Dragona Monachou M., 162 Dumont J.-P., 2

Baltes M., 7, 56, 62, 66, 144, 236 Baltussen H., 18 Barnes J., 5, 69, 71, 82, 86, 121, 171, 224, 235 Barth P., 2 Bastianini G., 115, 248 Beckaert A., 170 Bengio A., 151 Bett R., 4, 69 Betz H.D., 195 Bonazzi M., 11, 225, 234, 235, 243, 247, 249 Bos A.P., 45, 68, 146, 234 Bouffartigue J., 180 Boyancé P., 2, 237 Brague R., 195 Bréhier E., 1, 2, 6, 169, 190 Brennan T., 211, 221 Burkhard U., 2

Easterling H.J., 68 Effe B., 63–65 Erler M., 5, 75, 77, 102

Calabi F., 241 Carson D.A., 162 Centrone B., 6, 236 Classen C.J., 154 Colson F.H., 56, 59–64, 66, 68, 69, 72, 129, 135, 186, 204 Cooper J., 198, 220 Courcelle P., 176, 195

Ferguson J., 81, 83, 101, 102 Ferrari F., 237 Fiedler M.J., 154 Fillion-Lahille J., 198 Finamore J., 192 Fortenbaugh W.W., 17, 20, 21, 55, 60 Frede M., 4, 5, 16, 24, 68, 69, 241 Frick P., 39 Früchtel U., 151, 154 Fuglseth K., 34 Furley D., 86 Gerson L.P., 121 Giannini A., 70 Gill C., 174, 198, 220 Giusta M., 20, 48 Göransson T., 21, 72, 246 Görler W., 105 Gottschalk H.B., 66 Goedeckmeyer A., 2 Goodenough E., 6, 190 Goulet R., 1, 47 Graver M., 213, 220 Griffin M., 198, 200, 224 Gutas D., 17, 39, 55, 57

290

index of modern names

Hadas-Lebel M., 5, 40, 67, 79, 81, 104, 190 Hadot I., 198 Hankinson R.J., 82 Harl M., 68 Huby P.M., 55 Heinemann I., 2, 190 Holler E., 198 Horsley R.A., 155 Horst P.W. van der, 21, 39 Inwood B., 48, 121, 197, 198 Janáˇcek K., 4, 29 Jastram D., 153 Kahn J.-G., 83, 195 Keller O., 70 Kidd I.G., 42, 219 Klein F., 115 Kohnke F.W., 151, 152 Konstan D., 142 Krämer H.-J., 5, 237, 245 Kramer J., 129 Kremmer B., 199 Kullmann W., 70, 171 Le Boulluec A., 91–94, 96, 99, 180 Leisegang H., 2 Lévy C., 1, 4, 5, 8, 29, 48, 77–79, 81, 85, 89, 91, 92, 94, 95, 97, 98, 100–102, 118, 169, 171, 180, 183, 187, 190, 192, 195, 247, 249 Lilla S, 154, 171 Long A.A., 3, 5, 9, 32, 62, 121, 124, 135, 169, 171, 174, 198 Luck G., 3, 224 Lynch J.P., 65 Maddalena A., 78, 170 Mansfeld J., 3, 5, 13–21, 25, 27, 29, 31–33, 38, 42, 43, 48, 60, 63, 82, 86, 121, 169, 171, 235, 238, 241, 244 Marcus R., 72, 201, 203, 214

Méasson A., 188 Mejer J., 16, 20 Mendelson A., 46, 144 Mercier C., 201–203 Mitsis Ph., 95 Moehring H.R., 6 Moraux P., 72, 73 Musso O., 70 Nazzaro A., 195 Niehoff M., 34, 47 Nikiprowetzky V., 1, 28, 104, 108, 109, 150, 169, 190, 233, 250 Nussbaum M., 5, 171, 192, 197, 209 Obbink D., 77, 78, 83 Orbe A., 162 Otte K., 149 Paramelle J., 202 Pearson B.A., 155 Pépin J., 37 Peter Booth A., 81, 93, 94, 96, 98, 102 Petit F., 32, 48, 106, 201–203, 207 Pfeiffer R., 13 Pilhofer P., 38 Pohlenz M., 1, 2, 65, 154, 198–200, 202, 210 Polito R., 179 Pomeroy A.J., 21 Potter P., 170 Pouilloux J., 59, 60, 63, 64 Radice R., 1, 9, 78, 87, 89, 99, 144, 146, 148, 153, 154, 157, 162, 169, 200, 242, 244, 245 Regenbogen O., 70 Reinhardt K., 2, 61, 63 Rescigno A., 66 Reydams-Schils G., 10, 56, 137, 172, 193, 235, 242 Rist J., 149, 197, 198, 241 Roskam G., 152, 156, 164

index of modern names Royse, J., 201 Runia D.T., 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 14, 15, 18, 20–22, 28, 33, 34, 39, 43, 56, 59–63, 68, 73, 82, 85, 101, 123, 137, 139, 149, 169–171, 178, 179, 185, 186, 199, 200, 229, 233–235, 239, 241, 242, 244, 245, 247, 248, 251 Sambursky S., 136 Sandbach F.H., 5 Schaller J.B., 155 Schmekel A., 2 Schofield M., 5, 82, 86, 121, 171 Sedley, D., 5, 39, 57–59, 62, 115, 121, 122, 134, 198, 235, 248 Sellin G., 183 Sharples R.W., 7, 39, 55, 57, 58, 60, 65, 67, 69, 70–73 Sorabji R., 67, 73, 125, 172, 197, 218, 220, 221 Spinelli E., 107 Sterling G.E., 1, 43, 154, 170 Stowers S.K., 91

291

Tarrant H., 4, 244 Terian A., 2, 34, 68, 202, 214 Theiler W., 2, 244 Thesleff H., 6 Tobin T., 170 Trabattoni F., 234 Turowski E., 169 Unnik W.C. van, 81 Völker W., 169 Warnach W., 167 Wehrli F., 59–61, 65 Wendland P., 1, 24–27, 79, 89, 202 Whitaker G.H., 68, 69, 72, 129, 135, 187, 204 Whittaker J., 180, 239–243 Winston D., 1, 2, 51, 162, 170, 242 Winter B.W., 106–108 Wolfson H.A., 75, 80, 82, 154, 162, 190 Wright J.P., 170 Zeller E., 2