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IV The Interaction of Allegorical Interpretation and Deliberate AllegoryThe emergence of allegorical writing on a large scale and the mystical allegorical interpretation of non-epic literature are both developments rooted in the period of the authors we have been discussing. Neither of these developments is well understood, and if neither has found its historian, it is doubtless because the evidence is sparse, difficult to interpret, and often difficult to date. My comments will be limited to a sampling of texts providing evidence that the tradition of allegorical reading we have been examining was, in fact, crucially important in generating patterns of thought about literature and responses to literature that were soon translated beyond the limited sphere of Homer interpretation.[1] The fourth century was, of course, the period of the final confrontation between paganism and Christianity in the Greco-Roman world. Both Neoplatonism and the allegorical interpretation of cultural and religious traditions characterized the positions of either side in this conflict. The allegorical tradition in Christianity traced its roots to the parables and their interpretations in the Gospels themselves. Christian interpreters, with the model of Philo before them, tried to understand the Hebrew scriptures in ways that reduced the tension between the two ele- [1] The examples of deliberate allegory discussed here are those closest to the concerns of the larger study, but the list might have been extended. Perhaps the most important omission is political allegory, represented at the end of the fourth century by Synesius's Egyptian Tale , where the Osiris myth is retold as an allegory of events in Constantinople in the year 400. Here the procedure is very dose to that of the roman a clef, with the Osiris of the story apparently representing the exiled Praetorian Prefect Aurelian, and so forth. I am indebted to Alan Cameron for calling this work and this entire category of late antique allegory to my attention. ― 145 ― ments of the "Judeo-Christian Tradition" (itself, as Harold Bloom rightly insists, a fabrication resting upon the violent appropriation of those scriptures by the Christian interpretive community). Interest in the spiritual meaning of Homer was undoubtedly largely confined to the pagan community, but we have already noted the important exception of the second-century Gnostics, and Homeric motifs are not infrequently to be found in Christian contexts in the period.[2] The demands made on their respective bodies of "theological" literature by the various groups show considerable similarities. It is not surprising, then, that it was from this milieu that deliberately allegorical literature took its start.[3] Neither is it surprising, in view of the rising influence of Christianity, that the spread of deliberate allegory in epic and of allegorical interpretation in non-epic genres occurred largely in contexts that were Christian or at least influenced by Christianity. The figure usually taken to stand at the head of the tradition of allegorical epic is Prudentius (348-after 405), whose Psychomachia elaborates [2] On the Gnostics, see ch. 1D above. Beyond Carcopino, mentioned there, see also Kurt Rudolph, Gnosis , pp. 93 and 107. Among the Christian examples is a grave of the fifth (?) century in Syracuse (Museo archaeologico di Siracusa no. 14,439) where the deceased, one Nassiana, is compared to Penelope in her fidelity to her husband. This inscription is no doubt typical of a large class. H. Leclercq (Corbet et Leclercq, Dictionnaire d'archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie s.v. Homère, vol. 6, cols. 2739-42) lists two other examples of Christian grave inscriptions with Homeric content. [3] Here again we run up against the problem of the precise meaning of the term "allegory" in antiquity. Allegory in the rhetorical sense of irony or sarcasm (cf. Ps.-Plut. De vit. Hom . 70) is, of course, present in Homer. Heraclitus cites as examples of early allegory relevant to Homer fragments of Archilochus (fr. 54 Bergk) and Alcaeus (frs. 18, 19, Bergk) that ostensibly describe storms at sea but supposedly refer in fact to war and political events. He adds Anacreon fr. 75 Bergk, where the poet ostensibly addresses a colt. The true addressee, he asserts, is an arrogant woman (Heraclit. Quaest. hom . 5). In all these cases, we may assume that Heraclitus is correct about the intention of the poets, but we would speak of metaphor here, rather than allegory. The images cited are brief and largely self-contained and do not seem to belong to the category of elaborated, extended metaphorical expression we call allegory. What is new in the fourth century is a kind of literature built upon the deliberate elaboration of a structure of meaning similar to that the Neoplatonists found in Homer—a story intended to be understood on one or more levels beyond the superficial. It is significant that in Christian circles a developed theory of the structure of meaning of texts existed at this time. Origen had already applied a triadic model by which serious texts were viewed as having "superficial," "moral," and "allegorical" or "allegogical" levels of meaning. See ch. 6E below. ― 146 ― on the theme of Christian conversion by means of the extended metaphor of a series of heroic battles between virtues and vices for the possession of the soul. The warriors bear the names of the moral qualities they represent—Patientia and Ira, Luxuria and Sobrietas—and provide the major precedent for the personification allegory of medieval and Renaissance allegorical epic.[4] The practice of introducing into an epic narrative figures whose names indicate that they represent abstract qualities, but whose actions are otherwise comparable to those of heroes or gods, is as old as Homer,[5] and is an epic commonplace richly exploited by Virgil and Ovid. In the earlier epic tradition, however, this allegory is one figure among many. For Prudentius, it is central and dominates the entire fiction. Clearly this sort of allegory is not at all what we have been tracing in the history of the interpretation of Homer.[6] The structure of meaning is entirely different. The key to its interpretation is provided immediately. The "secondary" level of meaning is obtrusive and takes on greater importance than the action itself, which has lost all claim even to a coherent "surface" meaning. This action merely embellishes the abstract statement and gives it a colorful, concrete dramatization. In spite of these differences, however, Prudentius and the Homer of the interpretive tradition come together on the level of the commonplace that the literary artifact has meaning of more than one sort—that the story told is projected onto a plane beyond the one apparent at the surface. Prudentius had not only an allegorized Homer to look back to but, far more immediately, an allegorized Virgil. However much his deliberate allegory owes to the interpretive tradition of Philo, Clement, and Origen, the trappings of heroic warfare suggest that allegorized pagan epic was also an important force in determining the nature of his poem.[7] The Christian tradition of allegorical interpretation is an explicit element in the motivation behind Prudentius's epic. In the 68-line preface to the Psychomachia , Prudentius paraphrases Genesis 14-15 and 18, the [4] See Macklin Smith, Prudentius' Psychomachia , pp. 109-14 on the development of personification allegory and the role of Prudentius. [5] For a catalogue of characteristic Greek examples of personification allegory, see M. Lavarenne in the Budé Prudentius, vol. 3, PP. 14-15. [6] I am unable to agree with Pfeiffer (History of Classical Scholarship , p. 5) that the Homeric personification allegory of the Prayers in Il . 9.502 in any way anticipates or provides a base for the allegorists who detected hidden meanings in the Iliad and Odyssey . [7] On the sources of Prudentius's allegory, see Reinhard Herzog, Die allegorische Dichtkunst des Prudentius , pp. 2-4. ― 147 ― story of Abraham's military victory over the invaders of the cities of the plain, his restoration of Lot's freedom, and Sarah's belated pregnancy. This is presented as a text—more properly, a myth—for interpretation, and in the exegesis that follows, the preface takes on the quality of a sermon. This two-part preface imparts to the poem as a whole a triadic structure consisting of text, traditional allegorical interpretation, and finally (the Psychomachia proper) the paraphrase and heroic expansion of the allegory. The biblical text, we are told, prefigures the course our lives must follow. Lot imprisoned—doubly so, one might imagine, because of his normal place of residence—is the part of ourselves that is prey to the passions, and we must gather all our forces to set that part free. The 318 servants of Abraham armed to deliver Lot represent Christ,[8] whose aid is essential. Christ is also represented in the figure of Melchisedek,[9] who offers nourishment to the victorious warriors. Sarah's belated pregnancy is the direct result of the intervention of Christ, representing the trinity, and the offspring are the thoughts and acts worthy of a Christian.[10] The 915 dactylic hexameters of the Psychomachia proper represent the projection onto yet another plane of this interpretive sermon in 68 iambic trimeters, carefully separated from the rest of the poem by its different form and intention. The traditional epic invocation, directed to Christ but full of Virgilian echoes, comes not at the very beginning of the poem, but immediately after the preface. The sermonlike quality of the preface is a substantial indication that allegorical literature—deliberately allegorical composition developed at some length—is the outgrowth of a tradition of interpretation impinging on a tradition of creative literature. It is clear that this interpretive tradition in its Christian manifestation had a place of respect in the intellectual and spiritual life of the community that it appears to have lost at this period in the pagan community. Indeed, the fact that we have only bits and pieces of interpretive literature from pagan antiquity, whereas the Christian tradition of textual exegesis is far better represented, is also an indication that the elaboration of the meaning of a text was never, in pagan tradition, held in the respect it had in the Christian context. The [8] As Lavarenne explains in his edition ad loc . (vol. 3, P. 48, n. 6), the number 318, written TIH' in Greek, was a natural numerological symbol for Christ, the tau representing the cross and the iota and eta the first letters of IHS OYS . [9] Here again Lavarenne supplies the key. The association of Christ and Melchisedek is traceable to Hebrews 7 (Prudentius [Budé], vol. 3, P. 50, n. 3). [10] Cf. Lavarenne in Prudentius (Budé) vol. 3, P. 48, n. 3. ― 148 ― loss of so much of pagan literature and the absence of a clearly defined body of pagan scriptures provide only partial explanations for this phenomenon. There is no doubt that, in educational contexts, Homer was expounded and explained endlessly, yet this process remained, at best, the mental exercise praised by Sallustius. It only rarely reached the level of seriousness that would have been necessary for its results to be recorded and preserved. The Psychomachia provides a model that may well prove relevant to other literary forms far removed from it. The author begins with a text claimed as allegorical—though the claim is without the slightest support in any imaginable intentions of its human creators and rests exclusively on the positing of a transcendent (divine) intention manifested in the Pentateuch—and proceeds to an abstract exegesis of that text, demonstrating that on a secondary level, it communicates a mystical truth of wide application. He then elaborates a new allegory, this time quite deliberate and explicit, built on a structure of meaning analogous to that claimed for the original text and projecting the abstract truth he has distilled from that text onto another plane, expressing it in terms of new metaphors, of a new allegorical screen. In a far more subtle manner—and yet one to which the pattern followed explicitly by Prudentius is quite relevant—this process seems to have been at work in the popular literature of late antiquity. It is clear, at any rate, from an interpretive fragment that the Greek romances were interpreted and expounded allegorically in a manner quite close to that of the interpretation of Homer discussed here.[11] It is impossible to date with certainty the fragment or its author, "Philip the Philosopher," and nothing is known of the latter beyond the text in question.[12] The novel it [11] [12] Cf. Erwin Rohde, Die griechische Roman und seine Vorläufer , p. 353, n. 1. W. A. Oldfather attempted to demonstrate that the Philip of the piece must be Philip of Opus, Plato's student, and that the essay is thus a piece of blatantly anachronistic pseudepigraphy by a late writer, "der eigene Ansichten unter einem berühmten Philosophen-namen bekannt machen wollte" (Oldfather, "Lokrika," p. 457)- Karl Praechter (Die Philosophie des Altertums , p. 647) emphasized its affinities with Alexandrian Neoplatonism as distinct from that of Iamblichus and that of Proclus. Aristides Colonna's observation that Theophanes the Keramite (tenth-eleventh centuries) used a similar pseudonym (see his edition of Heliodorus, pp. 365-66) does not prove either that Theophanes was the author or that the work is as late as the tenth century. ― 149 ― explains, Heliodorus's Ethiopica (or Theagenes and Chariclea ), dates from the third or possibly the fourth century.[13] The interpretive text reflects the intellectual world of pagan Neoplatonism with a considerable admixture of Christian learning, and although it could well have been written as early as the late fifth century,[14] there is some reason to suspect that it may be an archaizing Byzantine composition. Beyond this, as a possible example of deliberate allegory, we have the Hero and Leander of Musaeus, belonging to the late fifth or early sixth century, which Thomas Gelzer has argued to be a Christian Neoplatonist allegory.[15] A brief examination of these two works will help throw some light on the impact on creative literature of the tradition of allegorical interpretation. The Ethiopica is probably the latest of the surviving romances and as such builds on a long history of narrative prose rooted in the Hellenistic period and on a correspondingly long and complex history of the evolving demands made upon literature in late antiquity.[16] Though its content is pervasively religious and the erotic complexities of the narrative are interwoven with scenes involving cults of various descriptions, both conventional and bizarrely exotic, there is no reason to believe either that the novel is committed to any particular religious or philosophical tradition or that it is an example of deliberate allegory.[17] There is no doubt that many of the ideas expressed belong to Neoplatonism, but they are expressed directly, explicitly, and in abstract terms, not in terms of deliberate allegory.[18] The mixture of religiosity with erotic intrigue, of [13] On the problem of dating Heliodorus, see R. M. Rattenbury in Heliodorus, Ethiopica (Budé), vol. 1, pp. vii-xv, who prefers a third-century date to the traditional fourth-century one, but gives a valuable summary of the other arguments. For a more recent account, largely in harmony with Rattenbury's, see Ben E. Perry, The Ancient Romances , p. 349, n. 13, and p. 350, n. 15. [14] See Leonardo Tarén, Academica: Philip of Opus and the Pseudo-Platonic Epinomis , p. 115, n. 510, for a summary of arguments regarding the dating of the fragment, providing a basis for this terminus post quem . [15] See his recent Loeb edition of Musaeus, pp. 316-22. [16] For the most recent discussion of the Ethiopica in the context of ancient prose fiction, see Arthur Heisermann, The Novel Before the Novel , pp. 186-202. [17] This is likewise Heisermann's judgment, though he gives serious consideration to the close relation between romance and allegory. See Heisermann, The Novel Before the Novel , esp. pp. 173 and 193. He in fact concludes that Heliodorus's romance is far less structured by its informing ideas, and thus farther removed from allegory, than the earlier romance of Longus (p. 200, cf. pp. 130-45). See also Gerald N. Sandy, "Characterization and Philosophical Decor in Heliodorus' Ethiopica. " [18] On specifically Neopythagorean content, see E. Feuillatre, Etudes sur les Ethiopiques d'Héliodore , pp. 128-32, with references (where the dependence of Heliodorus on Philostratus, asserted by Erwin Rohde, is denied). A striking example of a specifically Neoplatonic idea occurs in the passage that particularly occupies Philip the Philosopher's attention. Calasiris is describing the meeting of Theagenes and Chariclea. The encounter is clothed in ritual. The moment is underlined by Theagenes' accepting the torch to light the sacrifice from Chariclea. Calasiris interrupts to observe that at that moment those who looked on "were given faith that the soul is a holy thing" (Heliod. Eth . 3-5.4). The relationship of this passage to Philip's exegesis is discussed below. For the text, see n. 32 below. ― 150 ― an aura of profundity with sensuous exoticism, is a striking characteristic of the Ethiopica , and it is no doubt this quality that explains much of the novel's popularity both with its contemporary audience and with subsequent ones. These elements do not, however, indicate a complex structure of meaning in the work as a whole. All belong to a richly articulated surface, which sometimes seems to hint at a further or allegorical level of meaning. Such a level, however, fails to materialize. This complex and suggestive surface, involving the deliberate reworking and elevation of material and themes derived from epic and particularly from the Odyssey , explicitly incorporates the tradition of the allegorical interpretation of Homer. In general, Heliodorus is more interested in the interpretation of dreams than of literary texts,[19] and the one passage in which Homer is explicated is significantly introduced in the context of what appears to be a dream-interpretation. The vision in question seems quite straightforward: leading the hero and heroine, Apollo and Artemis have come at night to Calasiris, the protector of the protagonists, at Delphi to tell him to take the young couple with him to Egypt and thence wherever the gods lead. The interpretive effort is an unusual one. Homer is invoked in support of Calasiris's claim that this nocturnal vision was not a "dream"
properly speaking, but rather a waking vision
.[20] How does he know this? Because he knows the secret contained in Oilean Ajax's lines, when the latter has just recognized Poseidon, disguised as Calchas: I easily recognized the tracks behind his feet [19] Aside from the present example, Heliod. Eth . 3.11.5-12.3, see 2.16.1-6. [20] ― 151 ―
What is significant in the passage of Heliodorus is not so much the interpretation given the lines, which is banal in itself,[21] but the insistence on their complex structure of meaning. Homer is said to "hint at"
a means of identifying real visions of gods, but few readers penetrate his "riddle"
. Calasiris's interlocutor's rather testy reply is that in this case he, too, is one of the unenlightened; he has, of course, known the passage from his youth and is therefore acquainted with "the superficial meaning"
because he understands "the language"
, but he remains ignorant of "the theology dispersed in the verses" (
,
of the language, and the other a theological meaning dispersed beneath the surface in the very texture of the poem, reflects a familiar model. No doubt as an emblem of their education and culture, Heliodorus postulates a thorough knowledge of Homer in his characters, and he assumes this in his audience as well.[22] He likewise assumes that the structure of meaning requires exegesis. There is no doubt an implicit hint, as well, that the reader might want to pry beyond the "superficial meaning" of the present narrative, to explore the deeper reaches of its meaning.[23] [21] [22] Chariclea's citation from the Iliad at Heliod. Eth . 4-7.4 is probably intended to evoke the context of the lines and thus presumes a very considerable familiarity with Homer on the part of the reader. [23] Heliodorus's other specific references to Homer and to the heroes of the Iliad and Odyssey offer some tempting hints but no substantial demonstration of the author's understanding of the structure of meaning of the poems. The present passage goes on to elaborate a claim that Homer was an Egyptian (Heliod. Eth . 3.13.3-15.1; cf. 2.34.1), based on a particularly imaginative version of the poet's life. There are several decorative references to and citations of Homer scattered through the novel (e.g., 3.4.1; 4.3.1; and a rhetorical attack on Homer, 4.4.3) and numerous references to Achilles occur at the end of book 2 and the beginning of book 3, where the myth lying behind the ceremony at Delphi is elaborated. In a curious passage (5.22.1-5) Odysseus comes to Calasiris in a dream to rebuke him for failing to take the trouble to stop off in Ithaca to pay his respects to the hero. This might well be a reference to the cult maintained in the cave in Polis Bay, which in turn connects it with the content of Porphyry's essay on the cave of the nymphs. Cf. ch. 3, n. 123, above. ― 152 ― No recent critic has been convinced that the romance of Theagenes and Chariclea is allegorical, but the ancient interpretive fragment mentioned above is elaborate and emphatic in its claims for the hidden meanings stored away in the vicissitudes of the protagonists.[24] The intention of the interpretive piece is very difficult to define. It verges at times on parody, and the fact that it is incomplete makes it particularly difficult to form a solid judgment. Moreover, since it is the technique of the novel itself to play with the possibility of further levels of meaning, the interpretive essay—an allegorical-exegesis attached to the text to reinforce one of its salient qualities and to define an appropriate mode of reading by shaping the reader's expectations—is exceptionally well suited to it.[25] Philip's exegesis represents a serious (if at the same time light and playful) attempt to enlist the techniques of defensive allegorical interpretation to enhance the prestige of the book and to render it acceptable to (Platonist) Christian audiences.[26] There is a superficial resemblance between the author's attitude toward Heliodorus's romance and Julian's attitude toward myth. Philip considers erotic romances food for younger minds than his own. The more striking difference between the two attitudes is seen in Julian's scorn for the pre-philosophical youth of the spirit, replaced in Philip by a tender, even loving, tolerance, verging on nostalgia. Philip's original image—"the milk that nourished our infant education" (
[24] See the complete translation in Appendix 1 below. Among modem critics, J. Geffcken (quoted by Sandy, "Characterization and Philosophical Decor in Heliodorus' Ethiopica, " p. 164) called the novel "a work of Neoplatonist propaganda." See Sandy's comments as well (loc. cit .). [25] Cf. Ernest Fortin's analysis of Basil's method of predisposing the Christian reader to find Christian truth in pagan literature, discussed in ch. 6C below. [26] On the relationship between Heliodorus's novel and the Christian Middle Ages, see Heinrich Dörrie, "Die griechischen Romane und das Christentum," pp. 275-76. ― 153 ― the start that Philip considers Heliodorus's romance a propaedeutic of philosophy, and in spite of his age he undertakes at his friends' behest to defend Chariclea against her detractors. In the frame-story that introduces the defensive speech, Philip makes explicit reference to the Phaedrus , and it is to that dialogue more than any other that the author has gone for his model in this composition.[27] The structure and Platonic echoes in any case make it abundantly clear that the author is imitating Plato,[28] and the content of the discussion—love as a metaphor for events in the life of the soul—frequently echoes that of the Phaedrus . As he opens his speech to Heliodorus's detractors, Philip employs an image that, like the oblique reference to Odysseus in the oracle on the fate of Plotinus's soul,[29] makes it clear that the interpretive tradition had so transformed the meaning of certain Homeric episodes that they had become available as images charged with inherent spiritual meaning. The book is compared to Circe's potion in that it turns base men into pigs but initiates philosophers into higher realities. The Odyssey , allegorically interpreted, has become the source of an image to express the complex structure of meaning of the novel. The model—like that of the meaning of Homer expressed by Calasiris in the romance itself—is exceptionally clear. The meaning of Heliodorus's romance is on two levels: one, admittedly dangerous, is the level reached by those who read it "profanely"
, but another, elevated and revelatory, is reserved for philosophers. This is precisely the position taken by Proclus in his defense of Homer against Socrates' critique. It contains a curious contradiction in that Proclus, for his part, is logically forced to admit Socrates' charge that Homer is unfit for the education of the young—they are unable to see beyond the surface meaning, which is viewed as harmful—whereas Philip takes refuge in the considerably higher, and perhaps unrealistic, [27] August Brinkmann ("Beiträge zur Kritik und Erklärung des Dialogs Axiochos," pp. 442-43) demonstrated that the opening of the piece is virtually copied from the opening of the pseudo-Platonic Axiochus . Nevertheless, there is also a resemblance to that of the Republic (see Praechter, Philosophie des Altertums , p. 646) and that of the Phaedrus itself is likewise relevant. Both our piece and the Phaedrus begin outside (or at the gates) of the cities in question. Phaedrus and Socrates, it is true, proceed further out of Athens along the Ilissus and sit down under a tree, but Philip and his friends are in fact truer to Socrates' opinion (Plato Phdr . 230d) that the natural world has little to offer the lover of learning. They immediately return inside the walls to engage in discussion of the romance. [28] Cf. Praechter, Philosophie des Altertums , pp. 646-47, for a list of the "Platonreminiszenzen" and other philosophical echoes in the piece. [29] See ch. 3B above. ― 154 ― demand that the young men to whom this sort of literature is directed must themselves learn to interpret it philosophically. Philip's focus, then, is upon the impact of the Ethiopica on its reader, and his first task is to demonstrate that the story is sound on the moral plane, that it is a "teacher of ethics."[30] The novel is shown to contain illustrations of the four cardinal virtues, and a series of episodes is paraphrased to indicate that Heliodorus depicts the punishment of vice in such a way as to deter wrongdoers. This series of claims for the value of the ethical examples contained in the romance is summed up in an exhortation: "Even when you are treated unjustly, be content with the anomalies of chance and bear them nobly, suffering with Theagenes and Chariclea, so that your end may be rich and prosperous."[31] At the end of this eulogy of the romance as a primer of ethics, Philip abruptly indicates that the "philosophical approach" to the text is only half-exhausted. The image he uses is unavoidably humorous and plays with the ambiguous relationship of the erotic and the spiritual in the novel itself. The exegesis, he tells us, has now removed Chariclea's magnificent robe (placed around her to protect her from her detractors), but she still wears her chiton, which must also be stripped away in order that her beauty may radiate forth without obstacle. The ensuing explication of the story in terms of symbols and secondary meanings is witty and extravagant in the extreme, yet it takes its lead from the language of Heliodorus as well as from the methodology of the allegorical interpreters of early poetry (which itself intrudes into the text of the novel). Philip isolates the scene of the first meeting of Chariclea and Theagenes and explains it—and by extension the rest of the novel—as an allegory of the soul's return to its source in mind
and to knowledge of its true nature. In doing so, however, he has merely taken the hint dropped by Calasiris, the narrator of the scene in the Ethiopica : [As Theagenes took the torch from Chariclea] . . . we were given faith, dear Cnemon, that the soul is a holy thing and that both it and its impulses come from above. They no sooner saw each other than they were in love with each other, as if at first encounter the soul had [30][31] ― 155 ― recognized that which resembled it and rushed immediately toward that which duly belonged to it.[32] Calasiris's observation intensifies the atmosphere of religiosity already present in the scene and evokes at some distance the Platonic discussion of love in the Phaedrus and Symposium , in order to suggest the beauty and intensity of the encounter. Nevertheless, it is only a short step from this observation to Philip's claim that Chariclea is a symbol
of the soul (inseparable from the mind that organizes it). From this point on, Philip needs only his own Neoplatonic model of the life of the soul and a little help from supposed etymology in order to elaborate the allegory. Chariclea in the novel was born in Ethiopia (= darkness, the invisible) and emerges into the light (= Greece), only to return whence she came. She was raised by Charicles (= the practical life) to serve Artemis (=bravery and self-restraint). As she unyoked the bullocks (= transcended the material dyad) in front of the temple at Delphi, and ceremonially passed the torch (= desire) to Theagenes (=
), he took it up, filling her with the love of the highest wisdom and simultaneously opening up to her the possibility of learning her own true inheritance (= her affinity with the higher hypostases). Calasiris (= the teacher who advances the soul to initiation) then takes the couple in hand, steers them past the treachery of Trachinus (= the "rough"—
—rebellion of the passions) and through Egypt (= ignorance).[33] They must still overcome Arsace (= the pleasures of the flesh,
) and her pimp Cybele (= the senses) with the help of a ruby (= the fear of god).[34] Again, the interpretation is summed up in an exhortation: "Here let the strong will be made yet tougher! Let it be cast into the fiery furnace of temptation!"[35] The soul will thus reach her own country to be tested by fire. The fragment breaks off at this point while describing the couple's ex- [32] [33] Cf. the scorn for the lowest, physical allegory as appropriate to the Egyptians in Sallustius, De diis 4; P. 6, lines 1-10 in Nock ed., and Nock's observations on pp. xlvii-xlix. [34] On this last etymology, see the translation in Appendix 1. [35] ― 156 ― periences in Ethiopia. It is difficult to say how much is missing, though the analysis has brought us to the events of the eighth book of the ten that make up the novel, and may well be nearly complete. In its thought and diction, the interpretive essay is dependent primarily upon the Neoplatonic tradition and specifically on Plotinus.[36] The conception of the relationship of soul, mind, and body comes from that tradition, along with terms like
(385.31) and such images as that of the teacher leading the unaffected soul through the waves of life and helping it to escape the sea (387.10-16). The passage in which Philip explicates the
of the scene before the temple (386.26-387.4) has close affinities with passages in Enneads 5.1, where Plotinus laments the soul's forgetfulness of its true family and describes its relationship to the higher hypostases. At the same time, however, in this context with all the trappings of pagan Neoplatonism, there are words, phrases, and ideas that unavoidably belong to the Christian tradition. To say that the fates of some of the characters of the romance represent the "fulfillment" of a Hesiodic ethical statement constitutes a use of the verb
that is abundantly attested in the New Testament but rare, or perhaps absent, in pagan literature.[37] Likewise,
(386.31) and
(387.18) are words with Christian affinities, and the concept of "fear of god" as a protective force (387.25-27) is not a part of pagan tradition.[38] What proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Philip had read the New Testament with some care, however, is the phrase "The fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is,"[39] which is a direct but unacknowledged citation from 1 Corinthians (3.13).[40] Likewise, the "mystical song" (
, 383.10) containing the verse "Therefore do the virgins love thee" is the Song of Solomon.[41] [36] Cf. Praechter (see n. 28 above). [37][38][39] [40] This citation seems to have been noted first by Oldfather ("Lokrika," p. 458) and is likewise mentioned by Praechter (Philosophie des Altertums , p. 647). The Christian learning of the author seems to be conclusively demonstrated, though Praechter emphasized the conspicuous pagan elements in the text that show, as he claimed, that "andererseits das Heidentum noch nicht über-wunden war." [41] Song of Sol. 1.3. ― 157 ― Our interpretive text, then, is a document that is neither explicitly pagan nor explicitly Christian, but demonstrates a close acquaintance with and a broad tolerance of both traditions. This ambiguity is quite appropriate to the author of the romance itself, Heliodorus, of whom we are told that later in life he became a Christian bishop.[42] Both the novel and the observations of Philip reflect an intellectual world in which pagan Neoplatonism and Neoplatonic Christianity complemented rather than opposed one another. It is particularly appropriate that the interpretive fragment shows the clear influence of Christianity because it probably belongs to a period when pagan Neoplatonism's practical concern with textual exegesis was a thing of the past. Philip's manner and approach to his subject draw equally on the pagan tradition of defensive allegory and on the tradition of Christian homily. His defense at several points becomes an exhortation, a sermon from a text. What is unique, of course, is the choice of text, and we have seen that the specific qualities of Heliodorus's romance may have suggested the choice. It complements the Ethiopica in a way that would be far less appropriate with regard to any other surviving romance. The Ethiopica is, then, a romance that hints at mystical allegory, elevates epic themes, and fills them with a content both adapted to contemporary taste and quite foreign to the works that were the original sources of those themes. It is not a systematic allegory, but no doubt it was possible early in its history to read it as one. The tradition of the mystical allegorical reading of Homer is perceptible in the work itself, influencing its approach to its material and its aspirations. That same tradition pervades the critical fragment. There is no single work from pagan antiquity that can unequivocally be demonstrated to illustrate the last phase of the interaction of interpretation and literature that our model predicts. That is, there is no single work that expresses in a fully allegorical mode the central concepts of pagan Neoplatonism. In his 1975 Loeb edition of Musaeus's Hero and Leander , however, Thomas Gelzer has argued persuasively that Musaeus's poem is such a work, with the important difference that it seems to come from a Christian context. There is little point in attempting to examine the problem in detail here, particularly in view of the fact that Gelzer promises a book on the subject.[43] It will be sufficient for our pur- [42] Cf. Rattenbury's remarks in his edition of Heliodorus, vol. 1, pp. vii-xv. Dörrie, ("Die griechischen Romane," pp. 275-76) goes somewhat further in his analysis. [43] See Gelzer in his Musaeus (Loeb), p. 371 and n. A. ― 158 ― poses to review some of the major points of Gelzer's preliminary statement of his position on the matter.[44] It should be mentioned first that there is no explicitly Christian content in Musaeus's poem and that the assertion that its author was a Christian is based on internal evidence the significance of which has been questioned.[45] His knowledge both of the literature of pagan Neoplatonism and of the Gospels and other Christian literature is, however, unquestionable. The poem taps the tradition of the school of Nonnus, a hexameter poet of the late fifth century to whom are attributed both pagan mythological epic (the Dionysiaca ) and a hexameter paraphrase of the Gospel of John. Much of its language is distantly imitated from Homer, and the most important models lying behind Musaeus's presentation of the tragic love affair of his protagonists are found in the Odyssey and in Plato's Phaedrus .[46] Homer and Plato are naturally the two authors toward whom the interpretive efforts of the later Neoplatonists were primarily directed, and, as Gelzer has seen, it is by way of Proclus and Hermias that Musaeus understands Homer and Plato.[47] Gelzer introduces some evidence that the work was read as a Neo-platonic allegory by contemporary readers,[48] but the force of his analysis is not that the poem was read allegorically, which would not be surprising in its time, but rather that it was created as a systematic Christian Neoplatonic allegory. The first question one must ask in such a situation is how we can perceive the existence of a second level of meaning beyond the first, in the absence of such obtrusive indicators as those used by Prudentius. Gelzer's initial criteria are disappointingly close to those of the ancient commentators who claimed that an unacceptable or incoherent superficial meaning indicated a deeper truth lying behind that surface. Structural weaknesses, specifically the "logical schematism of the arrangement, the disproportion of the parts, the total lack of vividness . . . and the frequent repetitions and variations of the same motifs" are, according to Gelzer, "probably to be explained as technical requirements for the conveyance of a 'higher' meaning which Musaeus concealed allegorically beneath the surface of the love-story he narrated."[49] This in itself would be [44] Ibid., pp. 291-343, esp. pp. 316-22. [45] Ibid., p. 299 and n. B. [46] Ibid., pp. 310-11. [47] Ibid., pp. 318-19. [48] Specifically, by Procopius of Gaza: Gelzer in Musaeus (Loeb), p. 301. [49] Ibid., p. 316. ― 159 ― unconvincing were it not for the fact that Gelzer produces an impressive list of specifically Neoplatonic terms that Musaeus sprinkled through the poem, which do indeed seem an invitation to the reader to see in the broad outline of the action of the poem an imitation of the progress of the soul from its original abode beyond the physical universe, through the sea of matter, and back to its true home.[50] Gelzer's paraphrase, in which he restores the allegorical meaning by means of a series of analogies from Plato, the Neoplatonists, and the Christian tradition,[51] is convincing, and it seems quite possible that what modern scholarship has done here is to reconstitute and define a structure of meaning that would have been quite clear to contemporary readers, but has become opaque for modern readers because of the very different demands we are accustomed to make on literature. Attractive as they are, however, Gelzer's conclusions will have to be judged on the basis of the more complete presentation he promises. As they stand, they bring us disturbingly close to that peculiar fallacy of the ancient interpretive tradition, the conviction that a contradictory or otherwise puzzling surface implies an allegorical meaning lying beyond. Moreover, they bring us back to Socrates' ultimate frustration with interpretation: we cannot ask Musaeus. The force of modern critical opinion is certainly against reading Hero and Leander as an allegory, and Gelzer's claims have left many readers skeptical.[52] If conclusive internal evidence is lacking, one would want comparanda . If these in turn are not to be found, a definitive conclusion seems a remote goal. One can, however, say that the time was right for such deliberate allegory, that the visual arts had exploited it for centuries, and that a pervasive interpretive tradition, known to Musaeus, had accustomed readers to make upon literature-at least upon certain literature—the sort of demands Hero and Leander seems to invite. One thing that is clear is that Hero and Leander is not an allegory of the stamp of the Psychomachia . Aside from other obvious differences, the "secondary" level of meaning is not obtrusive; it does not dominate the surface meaning. Still, given the date of the poem and its cultural context, we must consider it probable that for Musaeus's audience, the fate of their souls was an issue of immediate and burning importance, one that entered into their perceptions concerning the world around them and [50] Ibid., pp. 319-20. [51] Ibid., pp. 320-22. [52] See the comments of Georges Nachtergale in his review of Gelzer's Musaeus in L'Antiquité classique 45 (1976), pp. 252-54. ― 160 ― especially into their perceptions regarding works of art. The degree to which such concerns permeated everyday life in the cities of the late Empire appears vividly in a famous passage of Gregory of Nyssa, where he parodies the intense, but aimless, theological speculation of his contemporaries, makeshift theological dogmatists . . . who philosophize pompously on incomprehensible subjects. . . . If you ask about your change, the answer is a lecture on the Begotten and the Unbegotten; if you ask the price of a loaf of bread, you get, "The Father is greater and the Son beneath him." If you ask, "Is the bath ready," the attendant demonstrates that the Son is uncreated.[53] Whether or not Musaeus's poem was an allegory may thus be a question that would have to be settled by an interrogation, not of Musaeus, but of his audience. There are precedents in late antiquity for a popular literature playing with and hinting at secondary meanings of a theological or theosophical nature. That much is clear from what has been said of Heliodorus. It may not be unreasonable to view an allegorical Hero and Leander as a logical development, in this sense, from the later romances. Moreover, the second meaning was present, at least for Procopius of Gaza.[54] A cultural environment in which doctrinal debates were major issues may well have been prepared to see spiritual doctrines in works of literature: from that point it is a minor step to producing writers to respond to those demands by creating works contrived to be susceptible to such interpretation. If Gelzer's reading is correct, we have in Hero and Leander the last term of our equation. The popular literature of late antiquity does indeed appear to develop the possibility of genuine allegory under the influence of a pervasive tradition of allegorical interpretation. This tradition was pagan in its origins, and the branch destined to bear such fruit as Museaus's poem had initially been concerned with extracting and elaborating theological truths in the Iliad and Odyssey , along with the works of the other "theologians." Porphyry, late in the third century, was the last [53] [54] See n. 48 above. ― 161 ― important pagan spokesman for this tradition before its absorption into the increasingly Christianized intellectual world of the fourth century. Somewhat later, however, the radical demands made on literary texts by this tradition of exegesis were influential in producing a narrative literature still profoundly influenced by Homeric models but thoroughly imbued with Platonism and—perhaps—deliberately incorporating a secondary level of meaning complementing and completing the superficial meaning. ― 162 ― V Proclus A. Introduction Proclus (ca. 410-85) stands near the end of the ancient Neoplatonic tradition and on the threshold of the Middle Ages. He was head of the Athenian school that traced its ancestry to Plato's Academy—hence the title Diadochos, or Successor, often attached to his name. In 529, less than fifty years after his death, his own successors abandoned Athens when Justinian closed the pagan philosophical schools, and although they subsequently returned, they were able to carry on their work only as private individuals. Neither his immediate predecessors nor those who followed after him in Athens and in Alexandria left a comparable body of work to provide information on later Neoplatonism, and it is to Proclus that one must turn for the basic concepts of the later phase of the tradition. This is not the place to attempt a summary of the complexities of his thought, but a brief statement of a few of the principles governing the metaphysics of the later Neoplatonists may be useful.[1] Plotinus had developed a model of reality based on three hypostases: the One, mind, and soul. All three are available to the microcosmic human entity, living normally on the fragmented level of sense at the lower extremity of soul
, but able to draw itself upward to the level of mind
, and even to union with the One
. Plotinus's system [1] For the most recent general studies on Proclus, see Laurence J. Rosán, The Philosophy of Proclus , and Werner Beierwaltes, Proklos: Grundzüge seiner Metaphysik , and for a brief summary the article "Proclus" by Rosán in The Encyclopedia of Philosophy , ed. P. Edwards. An overview situating Proclus in his historical and philosophical context may be found in ch. 5 of R. T. Wallis, Neoplatonism . ― 163 ― and, in particular, his discussion of the "One"—which, properly speaking, has no qualities, since no predicate can be attached to it—left numerous open questions for the later tradition. Whereas Plotinus had only an ambiguous respect for traditional religion, Platonists after his time increasingly extolled the virtues of ritual and theurgy. The higher hypostases became less and less accessible. The One was divided into a true One, beyond existence, and an existing One, which, by joining with the generative principle of the dyad, produced the rest of reality. The hypostases were subdivided and the distinctions among them became unclear. By what has been called the "principle of continuity," later Neoplatonists emphasized the unbroken flow of reality from the One beyond being to the fragmented level of our own experience in this world. A further general rule, the "principle of plenitude,"[2] emphasized the fullness of creation: each level of each divine procession was occupied by an ever-increasing number of spiritual entities—gods, angels, demons, and souls. For Proclus, the resulting model of reality is diamond-shaped.[3] At the highest level, of course, is the One, followed by the monad and the dyad, then by a large number of "henads," sometimes associated with the Olympian pantheon. These in turn are the sources of various "processions" of lesser spiritual entities, down to the extremely complex and cluttered level of "appearances." From this level, near the midpoint in the life of the soul, there is a progressive simplification until the unified, dead, essentially nonexistent level of matter is reached. Individual human beings are embodied, fragmented souls, attended by providential guardian
and ultimately belonging to the procession of some Olympian. This last relationship also contributed to the later Neoplatonists' concern with astrology—the henads found expression in the heavens as well. Proclus himself belonged to the procession of Mercury, as his biographer (who also provides us with his complete natal chart) informs us.[4] The three Plotinian hypostases have been substantially modified in Proclus's thought by the introduction of plurality into the realm of being. However, the Plotinian model is more familiar and provides us with a useful point of reference for discussing the later systems. The basic triadic structure is in any case retained, though the distinctions are blurred [2] See Wallis, Neoplatonism , p. 131, on both principles. [3] See Rosán, "Proclus," p. 481 [4] Marinus Vit. Pr . 28 and 35. ― 164 ― and the rich demonology and angelology of the later Neoplatonists give their systems a decidedly medieval flavor. Proclus is of importance to the present study because he is at once the most complete, the most systematic, and the most carefully studied of the Neoplatonic allegorizers of Homer.[5] His work is a bizarre mixture of sensitivity, cogent analysis, and a third element that has tended to obscure the first two and to bar his contributions both to literary theory and to the interpretation of Homer from serious consideration: namely, an extraordinary willingness to depart extravagantly from the most obvious meaning of the text and to apply to Homer's words interpretations that satisfy his own demands but jar our expectations. Most of his work regarding Homer is contained in the sixth discourse of the first book of his commentary on the Republic , and that text is the focus of the present discussion. The context itself is indicative of the fact that Proclus's consideration of Homer—in striking contrast to Porphyry's—is an academic exercise in the pejorative sense of the term. It is the work not of a popularizer but of a scholar who, for the sake of the coherence of the tradition to which he seems himself belonging, must reconcile two major figures from the past. Date: 2015-12-17; view: 676
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