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‘A Most Strange Doctrine.’ Daimon in Plutarch

Author: Frederick E. Brenk
Date: 1973
From: The Classical Journal(Vol. 69, Issue 1)
Reprint In: Classical and Medieval Literature Criticism(Vol. 226)
Document Type: Critical essay
Length: 7,403 words

Full Text:
[(essay date 1973) In the following essay, Brenk pursues demonology, or daimon in Greek, in the works of Plutarch. “Plutarch’s belief
in demonology, especially in general works on Greek philosophy, is misleading and some of it is false” and “it is hoped that Plutarch
will be seen as much less a Neoplatonist in his demonology than is sometimes asserted.”]

One of the most fascinating concepts in Greek literature and philosophy is that of daimon. No full treatment, however, has appeared
in recent times. One must rely on old articles like that written by Andres for Pauly, or on individual studies.1 Since Plutarch’s output
was vast—twenty-four volumes in the Loeb—he is a very abundant source of daimon lore. This writer takes the somewhat radical
view that much that has been written about Plutarch’s belief in demonology, especially in general works on Greek philosophy, is
misleading and some of it is false. Moreover, very little use has been made of Plutarch’s biographical work in the assessment of this
demonology in his thought.2 But one has only to notice the ambiguity with which the word daimon is used by Greek authors in order
to understand why scholars have been reluctant to touch the subject. It is hoped that this small study of Plutarch’s use of daimon will
give some insight into the problems in the investigation of Greek demonology. Also it is hoped that Plutarch will be seen as much less
a Neoplatonist in his demonology than is sometimes asserted.

The ambiguity of the word daimon can be seen in its use in one of Plutarch’s early essays, “De superstitione”, in which he is
balancing off superstition as a vice equal to atheism. At 168c the superstitious man is said to be afraid of the attacks of God and the
blows of the (a?) daimon ( ). Since Plutarch elsewhere, and Theophrastus before him, define
superstition (deisidaimonia) as fear of the divinity (to daimonion), it is not impossible that Plutarch is thinking of daimon as to
daimonion here.3 That is to say, we cannot rule out the possibility of hendiadys, a figure of speech which occurs frequently in the
essay.4 We must be careful, then, lest we find a demon lurking behind every bush in Plutarch’s works.5 The ambiguity is not dispelled
by what follows. In the same passage and following the statement just discussed, we find the hypothetical complaint of the
superstitious man: “Leave me to pay my penalty, impious man that I am, hated by the gods and daimones.” The expression “gods
and daimones” ( ) is a traditional phrase both in and out of Plutarch to refer to the heavenly panoply, and need not
necessarily be interpreted as including evil or other daimones of the Neoplatonic type, that is, intermediate spirits akin to angels and
devils.

The last instance of the word daimon in “De superstitione” (171c) gives us more reason to suspect an evil demon of the
Neoplatonic type. Here Plutarch is condemning the practice of the Carthaginians to offer children as human sacrifice. He complains
that it were better to acknowledge none of the gods and daimones ( ) than to sacrifice children to
Cronus (Plutarch’s rendering of the Phoenician Baal Hammon).6 Human sacrifice to demons is a commonplace among the
demonologists, and the “De superstitione” passage is repeated almost verbatim in one of the most demonological of all Plutarch’s
treatises, “De defectu oraculorum” (417d). Here the somewhat dim-witted speaker, Cleombrotus, argues that the existence of
human sacrifice proves that evil daimones exist, and that they need to be placated with human blood. There is no doubt in the “De
defectu oraculorum” passage that an evil intermediate spirit is at stake. The same can be said for “Pelopidas” 21. In Plutarch’s
version of events before the battle of Leuctra, a native named Scedasus appeared in a dream to Pelopidas and commanded him to
sacrifice a maiden in appeasement to the souls of the man’s daughters who had been raped by the Spartans and later died. An
argument issues over whether he should carry out the command, but Pelopidas yields to the more humane side on the grounds that
the world is ruled by a benevolent God, not by monsters, and that if such daimones exist, which rejoice in human blood, then they
must be ineffectual and are not to be feared.7

We have, therefore, three more or less parallel passages on human sacrifice, and in the last two it is clear that evil daimones of the
Neoplatonic type are at stake. Erbse, like others, interprets the passages to indicate a development in Plutarch’s thought toward an
increasing belief in the power of evil daimones. It certainly makes much more sense if, like Erbse, we interpret the expression “none
of the gods and daimones” in “De superstitione” 171c to mean the panoply of the gods, rather than to mean “none of the gods and
intermediate spirits”: that is, it is better to be an atheist than pious in such a revolting way. But my contention is that Plutarch in his
later writings does not necessarily promote the belief in evil daimones, but as a matter of fact tends to resist the belief and, therefore,
we may take the three passages as representative of continuity in Plutarch’s thought rather than of discontinuity. In “De
superstitione” Plutarch ignores or is ignorant of the demonological suggestions of human sacrifice, if the daimones here are not
intermediate spirits, but one should not be too quick to conclude that he had no knowledge of demonology when he wrote the essay.

If “De superstitione” offers uncertain or negative evidence of Plutarch’s knowledge and interest in demonology in his early writings,
the same cannot be said of “De esu carnium”. In the two parts of “De esu carnium”, an early work advocating vegetarianism and
strongly Pythagorean in tone, we see Plutarch interested in traditional demonology. At the end of the first essay (996b) Plutarch uses
Empedocles’ Purifications in support of his polemic against the eating of flesh. According to Plutarch the punishment of reincarnation
was meted out to the daimon of Empedocles for the crime of eating flesh, and this ought to deter us from a similar outrage. The
argument is reinforced by reference to the Orphic legend of the dismemberment of the young Dionysus by the Titans, and though the
text breaks off at this point, it is clear that a link is made between the “Titanic” nature of man and the original atrocity committed by
the Titans.8 Allusion is also made to the immortality passage of the Phaedrus (245c). In these rather early demonological discussions
we are still within the philosophical framework of Empedocles and Plato rather than in the realm of the Neoplatonists. No attempt is
made to see the daimon as an independent being of a special metaphysical category between men and gods, nor are we quite sure
whether daimones are something other than the human souls passing to or from incarnation. Such statements are in a different world
from that of some of Plutarch’s speakers in his later writings, but an interest in the traditional philosophic demonic can be seen in the
earliest period of Plutarch’s writings.

Did Plutarch believe in the power of evil spirits in his mature period, that of the Lives and his major religious works? This is a
question very central to the whole interpretation of Plutarch’s religious thought. Here it is very appealing to carry out the suggestion
made by Flacelière that Plutarch’s belief and stress upon evil daimones has been exaggerated out of proportion by many scholars.
The communis opinio here is somewhat suspect, especially when it tends to violate some of the essential principles of philosophical
investigation.

One can begin with some anti-demonological hints in the Lives. Besides the very damning counter-argument to the power of evil
daimones from “Pelopidas” 21, cited above, there are others which should warn us about seeing Plutarch as a super-demonologist.
In “Numa” 8.3-4B Plutarch labels as superstition Numa’s practice of reporting visions of strange daimones in order to quell the
barbarous spirits of the early Romans. The introduction to “Dion-Brutus”, however, is more puzzling. These lives are the ones most
cited in proof of Plutarch’s belief in evil daimones, but they should be used with caution. In the introduction he first appears to ridicule
rather cleverly the belief in daimones: those who believe in them have the daimon of superstition (deisidaimonia) in them. In his usual
style of presenting both sides of an argument he reports the anti-demonological side, then the pro-demonological viewpoint, but as “a
most strange doctrine.” This is the belief that daimones attempt to frighten good men from the path of virtue lest they obtain a better
portion in the next life than the daimones themselves.9 But after this rather derogatory introduction to the demonological theory,
Plutarch surprisingly says that he is inclined to accept the reality of the visions which supposedly appeared to Dion and Brutus, on the
grounds of their philosophical education and the seriousness with which they reported the visions to their friends.

One would expect, then, that “Dion-Brutus” are some sort of exemplification of the theory in the introduction, namely that daimones
appeared to Dion and Brutus in order to frighten them from the path of virtue. That, however, is not exactly the case. Though Plutarch
suggests (“Dion” 54.5Z) that the hero was not disturbed over political events at the time of the vision, later (56.3Z) he indicates that
Dion was in a state of profound depression and subject to guilt feelings over his execution of his chief opponent, Heracleides. The
vision itself seems to represent retribution for a crime: it is a huge Erinys sweeping his halls. The suggestion is that he will be left
without heirs because of his murder of Heracleides, and shortly afterward Dion’s odd son eccentrically leaps from the roof to his
death. Brutus’ vision is more famous since it is dramatized in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Yet Plutarch strangely puts several
obstacles in the way of our believing it. Brutus is portrayed as a late sleeper, stretched to the breaking point through anxiety and lack
of rest (“Brutus” 36.2-4Z). Nothing in “Dion” had been said about the hero relating the vision to his friends, but in “Brutus” we do
have the relation of the vision to a friend. The friend, however, is Cassius—described as an Epicurean—who promptly gives rather
convincing reasons for not accepting the vision. Moreover, his explanation arouses our suspicions since the major part of the
supposed Epicurean speech is actually contrary to Epicurean sensation theory and remarkably similar to Plutarch’s explanations
elsewhere of similar problems of miraculous occurrences.10 But this is not all. Plutarch’s Roman readers should have already come
across the vision in Valerius Maximus, who attributes it to Cassius of Parma—not the Cassius of the “Brutus”—just before the battle
of Actium which is to decide the issue between Octavius and Antony. And Plutarch goes so far as to indicate that the apparently
official witness of the supernatural events, a philosopher friend of Brutus, named Publius Volumnius, “who was present at all the
battles and recorded all the omens,” did not mention this one. The first vision takes place at the crossing from Abydos to Greece, and
the part about Volumnius is related on the occasion of its reappearance before the final battle of Philippi, but it seems fair to suppose
that Volumnius had mentioned neither vision.11 Finally, at the end of the “Caesar” (69.2Z) he treats the vision as one of the
supernatural events which proved that the murder of Caesar was not pleasing to the gods; that is, as something having to do with
retribution for a crime rather than as demonic intrigue to destroy a good man. The Lives, then, do not offer an unambiguous brief for
the influence of evil daimones in human life. As in Plutarch’s religious treatises, we find the line of thought opening up numerous
possibilities without requiring a definite assent to one particular belief.

A similar overstressing of the demonological element in the Moralia has turned Plutarch into more of a Neoplatonist than a critical
reading of the dialogues and treatises on daimones would warrant.12 Plutarch seldom himself gives full support to the demonological
views offered by one or another of his speakers. Much of the misunderstanding is due to the demonological speech of Cleombrotus
which forms the opening part of “De defectu oraculorum”. Cleombrotus gives Xenocrates, the pupil of Plato and one time leader of
the Academy, as his source for the most profound philosophical statements about the nature of the daimones. According to
Cleombrotus (416d-e) Xenocrates drew an analogy between different grades of beings and kinds of triangles: the equilateral is similar
to God, the isosceles (partly equal, partly unequal) to the daimones, the scalene (unequal in all its parts) to men. He also compared
the three orders of rational being to the heavenly bodies: the sun and the stars are the visible images and likenesses of the gods; the
moon, of a mixed nature, is an imitation of that of the daimones ( ); while beams of light and comets are images of
men. After this there follows a section in which certain characteristics of the diamones are outlined. Though commentators have a
tendency to attribute this section to Xenocrates, it is not entirely certain that he is responsible for all in it. Here (416f-417b) daimones
are described as guardians and participants in religious rites and mysteries, and are identified with “Plato’s interpretative and
ministering nature” (Republic 260d, Symposium 202e), as subject to varying degrees of virtue and vice, the object of apotropaic rites
and human sacrifice, and as the real perpetrators of deeds commemorated in myth. In connection with human sacrifice we find the
most extreme view of the passage: the daimones demand human sacrifice since they are unable or unwilling to have sexual
intercourse in a physical manner ( ). Scholars are divided over how much of this is from
Xenocrates and how to reconcile such statements with other fragments in which the daimon appears as the human intelligence. Be
that as it may, such thoughts had a profound effect on later demonology, especially that of the Neoplatonists.13 The immediate
reaction to the speech on the part of the others is that the ideas are “extraordinary and presumptuous hypotheses” (418d). It is hard
to see that they would be so if they were entirely from Xenocrates and had existed in Greek philosophy for several hundred years
before Plutarch. It seems more likely that only the beginning part is from Xenocrates and that a new philosophical current is in the air,
which meets resistance in Plutarch’s circle but becomes popular in Neoplatonism. Yet in “De Iside et Osiride”, probably later than
“De defectu oraculorum”, he claims that Xenocrates held that apotropaic rites—without mention of human sacrifice—were meant
for “malevolent and morose” evil daimones who rejoice in such things and are kept through them from doing more evil (361b). Thus, if
Plutarch’s memory did not fail him when writing “De Iside et Osiride”, much of the daimon lore was already in Xenocrates.

Cleombrotus’ speech in “De defectu oraculorum” is either an adaptation or illustration of these theories. Its originality consists in
making the flight of daimones to another world the reason for the cessation or decline of famous oracular shrines, and the application
of the demonological interpretation of myth to the Delphic legend. Interesting high points of the dialogue are the description of the
death of daimones on an isle off the west coast of Britain—a death signaled by cataclysmic atmospheric phenomena—and a
mariner’s tale of the death of the Great Pan. As his authority for his demonological interpretations and the multiplicity of worlds, to
which the daimones flee—thus leaving the oracles vacant—Cleombrotus offers a curious mystic living among the Troglodytes near
the Red Sea, but his companions in the dialogue unmask the fellow as a fraud who had plagiarized from a scholarly publication.

It is, therefore, about as uncritical to understand the views of Cleombrotus in this dialogue as those of Plutarch as it would be to quote
Thrasymachus’ rash utterances on political power in Plato’s Republic when giving a synthesis of Plato’s political views. Cleombrotus’
views meet immediate opposition in the circle of dramatis personae; the whole last section of the dialogue—which is spoken by
Plutarch’s brother, Lamprias, a frequent spokesman for his views in the Moralia—refutes or bypasses the demonological
interpretation; and, finally, many of the opinions of Cleombrotus, especially on matters of natural science and moral culpability, run
contrary to the whole bent of Plutarch’s thought.14 On the other hand, Lamprias’ speech harmonizes perfectly with the Platonic-
eclectic tenor of Plutarch’s philosophy. In “De Iside et Osiride”, while faithfully presenting the demonological interpretation in the
best light, his own preference is for the allegorical, and much of the demonology of his fanciful eschatological myths in the religious
treatises can be understood as window dressing, sometimes in conflict with the central understanding of the daimones as
disembodied human souls.

Plutarch’s own views in “De defectu oraculorum” are better represented in the speech of his brother. Plutarch seldom appears
himself in his dialogues, but Lamprias often enters as a spokesman. Here Lamprias claims that the oracles have ceased because a
prophetic vapor (pneuma) has dissipated itself (433c-438e). Source critics have had a field day with the speech, but it is distinctively
Plutarchan in its eclecticism, and much which looks Stoic can be found in Plato. The doctrines advocated by Lamprias—which
depend upon the key terms, mixture (krasis), emanation (aporroia), and vapor (pneuma)—are found throughout Plutarch’s writings
dealing with natural phenomena.15 The end of the speech reveals the essentially Platonic strain in Plutarch: the daimon is within man
himself, his soul; all men have the gift of prophecy on account of the “daimonic” nature of the soul, but in most men it is impaired
because of the impurity of their minds, though for many it is experienced in dreams and at the hour of death (431e-432c). Ideas such
as these are repeated continually in Plutarch’s writings and are the basis for his intriguing afterlife myths.

One part of Cleombrotus’ speech which is important for Plutarch is his reporting of a theory of “others” about the transformation of the
soul after death (415b-c). According to this theory, after death the good soul—through a series of unspecified purifications—becomes
progressively a hero, daimon, and then god. This theory is apparently in opposition to Cleombrotus’ own elaboration of the status of
the daimones as creatures intermediate between men and God, with more powerful intellects and passions than men. It is consistent
with the daimon beliefs of the other speakers in the dialogue, including Lamprias, who keep insisting that daimones are really the
souls of the departed. There is, however, much confusion over this distinction between soul-daimones and intermediate being-
daimones in the minds of all the speakers. This confusion is particularly evident when they come to speak of the death of the
daimones (415c-416a, 419b-420a, 420d-f). Plutarch uses the transformation theory at the close of the “Romulus” (28.6-10Z), where
he seems to be taking a crack at the Roman method of legal divinization. Plutarch insists that true divinization can only come about
through the progressive purification of the virtuous—in the manner we have seen in the “others” theory, not by state decree.

In Plutarch’s afterlife myths we get a somewhat better idea of how the transformation takes place, though he is still annoyingly vague
at the most critical points. In accordance with the divisions of the soul made in his psychological treatises, that is, into mind (nous or
logos) and soul (psyche), he speaks of a first and second death. The first death is the separation of soul and body; the second is the
liberation of nous from psyche. This nous is often identified with daimon, but at times he speaks of daimones as the disembodied
psyche-nous combination wandering about the universe. In the most exciting myth, that in “De facie in orbe lunae” (943a-945d), the
psyche in its second death is resolved back into the element of the moon, while the nous, separated from the psyche through its
contemplation of the Good reflected in the image of the sun, is relieved from the cycle of reincarnation. In the myth the traditional
scenes of the underworld—with a few additions from the geography of the daimones in Cleombrotus’ account—are transferred to the
moon. As in the afterlife myth of “De genio Socratis” the journey there is a quasi sea voyage through the psychedelic celestial
regions.

Plutarch, however, is the last author in whom we should expect much consistency. In “De sera numinis vindicta”, an essay which
depressingly seems to argue that all men are punished for their sins in this life, but falls back on the punishment of the children and
punishment after death, the daimones appear as the devils of the Mediaeval hell, busily flipping the souls from one pool of red hot
metal to the other (567c). More philosophical and humane are the conceptions of “De genio Socratis”, a speculative inquiry into the
meaning of Socrates’ daimonion, or divine sign. One speaker conceives of the daimones as the souls of those who have finished the
course of life, running along the track like former athletes encouraging the present runners, or as those who have reached the shore
holding out their hands to the souls still struggling in the surf (593e-f). But elsewhere in the dialogue (588e, 589b, 591e) the daimon is
conceived of as the nous of the individual supporting and guiding the psyche like an angler’s cork floating above the hook (591e).
Numerous interpretations to solve this discrepancy have been proposed, but it is possible that Plutarch wished the Pythagorean
setting of the dialogue to be enhanced by a Pythagorean belief in the nature of the daimones as guardian spirits, while the central
part was devoted to his basic conception of the daimon as nous.16 That he was captivated by the nous-daimon conception seems
indicated by the extraordinary number of times in the Moralia he uses the rein or cable analogy to describe the guidance of the
psyche by logos or nous.17

In one amusing passage though, like a naughty schoolboy, he stands the whole daimon theory upside down. Apparently he did not
realize what consternation classical authors would cause for much more seriously minded classical scholars. In “De facie in orbe
lunae” 945b the mythical monsters of Greek mythology, the Titans, Typhons, and the Delphic Python—treated as daimones in the
demonological explanation of mythology and in “De esu carnium” 996c—are treated in a humorous and unusual way. In rather
strict, but perverse, logic these creatures cannot have nous and must be, therefore, mindless souls (psychai without nous) which
have escaped from the moon and must be charmed back by Hecate. The proper daimones are those with nous and psyche, while the
really “daimonic” part of man is nous which can be freed from psyche in a second death.

The conception of the higher part of the soul as daimon can be found at the end of Plato’s Timaeus, but Plutarch gives it a stress and
importance far beyond that found in Plato. The passage in “De facie” about the mindless monsters has an affinity with his
commentary on the world soul in Plato’s Timaeus. Plutarch’s interpretation rests on the rather illegitimate premise that the key to
understanding the Timaeus is the application of passages from other dialogues of Plato. The end result is a very anthropomorphized
picture of the world soul, which forgets the Forms and its destiny in much the way that the human soul is said to do in Plato’s writings.
In Plutarch’s view the world (kosmos = order) was created in time when nous was joined to psyche; until that time it wandered about
crazily, a psyche without nous, guided by imagination (phantasia) and opinion (doxa), unable to be called a world in the true sense
(“De animae procreatione in Timaeo” 1015d-e).

It is surprising to find in other essays of the Moralia, especially those dealing with fortune (tyche), such a different use of the word
daimon than we are accustomed to in the religious writings. The same can be said of the Lives. As an example of this difference one
can take “De tranquillitate animi” 474b. The thesis of the essay is the mutability of tyche and that tranquillity is best achieved if one
is neither too elated at good fortune nor downcast at bad. Here we can observe the persistent tendency to treat daimon as tyche,
exemplified in the interpretation of a daimon in Menander entirely within a tyche context. Plutarch, who only cites the first two lines of
the passage, puts himself in opposition to Menander. According to him Menander falsely held that tyche was constant but Heraclitus
and Empedocles, who spoke of two daimones at birth, hit the mark. The Menander fragment reads as follows:

At birth a daimon stands by each man, the good mystagogue of life; for one should not believe that there is such a thing
as an evil daimon which harms one’s life, or that God is evil—rather He is entirely good. Those who have an evil character
create many conflicts in their life and show their stupidity in all things, and lay the blame on their daimon and speak ill of it,
although they are themselves to blame.(Körte-Thierfelder, 714)

Obviously Menander had more in mind than just a tyche-daimon and other fragments in Menander suggest that he often spoke of the
change of tyche. Plutarch’s selection of lines and interpretation is, therefore, somewhat capricious and influenced by his general
tendency to identify daimon and tyche.18
This same tendency is extremely pronounced in such tyche essays as “De fortuna Romanorum” and “De Alexandri Magni
fortuna”. Another tendency is the linking of daimon and tyche in one phrase. For instance, at the end of “Marius”, Marius who
lamented his tyche and threw away his opportunities is contrasted with Plato who praised his daimon and tyche to the end (“Marius”
46.1-3B). Sometimes we see Plutarch substituting daimon where he previously had used tyche in the same context. Pompey’s failure
to capitalize on his victory over Caesar at Dyrrachium is treated in three lives, “Pompey” (66.1-3B), “Caesar” (39.3Z), and “Cato
Minor” (54.9Z). In the first life according to the cross-references, “Pompey”, only strategic reasons are given for Pompey’s decision,
along with Caesar’s adverse criticism of Pompey’s generalship. In the second, “Caesar”, the failure is due to “some caution or
tyche.” In “Cato Minor” we find the more sinister suggestion of a malign supernatural being: “the daimon of Caesar, relying on
Pompey’s caution, took away a total victory.” Similarly in an early work, “De fortuna Romanorum” (319f) we learn that a friend
deduced from Antony’s continual bad luck when gambling with Octavius that his daimon and tyche though proud in itself was
humbled by that of Octavius and would go off with him unless Antony kept his distance. But the situation is somewhat altered in
“Antony” 33.3-6Z where an Egyptian seer makes the prediction that Antony’s daimon stands in awe of Octavius, a prediction proved
by the results of their gambling. The tyche element remains in the second version but one might get the impression that rival
protective daimones were at stake, an idea which does not appear elsewhere in Plutarch.19 It seems more likely that he was just
attempting to improve a story at second telling than that he was falling under the bad influence of demonology.

Some of the confusion over the use of daimon in the Lives can be observed at the end of “Julius Caesar” (69.2Z) where
Plutarch—always keen to end a life with the retribution given the wicked—attributes this to Caesar’s daimon. Up to this point in the
life and in parallel passages of “De fortuna Romanorum” the daimon was Caesar’s tyche. Now it seems to be a sort of alastor
striking down his murderers with pitiless fury. To complicate matters, this daimon sends forth another type of daimon, that which
appears to Brutus and obligingly identifies himself as Brutus’ evil daimon, causing Brutus to rush headlong to his death. The term
seems to be tossed about here in almost reckless abandon.

Sometimes in the Lives where a daimon seems to be a real evil spirit, or a protective spirit, we are on Oriental soil. Thus Darius
speaks of the daimon of the Persians (“Alexander” 30.3Z). An agent provocateur toasts the daimon of the king in “Artaxerxes”
15.10B. Taxiles informs Tigranes that his daimon is not so propitious that he should mistake a tactical manoeuvre of the Romans for
their retreat (“Lucullus” 27.6Z). In “Sulla” 24.3B Mithridates alleges the daimones as the instigators of his war against the Romans.
As the treacherous Parthian guide leads the army of Crassus closer and closer to its destruction, Cassius exclaims to the native,
“What daimon has brought you to Crassus?” (“Crassus” 22.3Z). Plutarch even goes so far as to blame the murder of Cleitus at the
hands of Alexander on Cleitus’ daimon, but whether he meant Cleitus’ bad luck or an evil spirit is difficult to say (“Alexander”
50.10Z).20

The passages quoted above may give the impression that daimones appear frequently in the Lives, but just the opposite is true. As a
matter of fact, these are almost all the passages where we can expect real intermediate spirits to be envisaged. The Lives are more
full of tyche than many people suspect, and when daimon occurs it is almost invariably more liable to be connected with tyche than
the sinister intrusion of a superior being in an individual’s life. Undoubtedly Plutarch’s sources played an important role here. Thus in
“Timoleon” 16, probably echoing Timaeus of Tauromenium, tyche which is here equated with daimon, seems to be almost the
supreme force in the universe in contrast to Plutarch’s usual insistence on divine providence. Timoleon is about to be killed by an
assassin when at the very moment the man’s personal enemy strikes him down. The rescue is attributed to tyche and Timoleon’s
guardian daimon (16.4-5Z). Since we later learn that the hero erected a shrine to automatia (chance) and consecrated his home to
the sacred daimon, the likelihood that the ideas go back to Timoleon himself, relayed through Timaeus, is very great, and this
impression is reinforced by the fact that the philosophical digression on tyche is put into the mouth of the “bystanders.”

A study of Plutarch’s use of daimon in the totality of his works, therefore, gives a different impression than one might get from random
citations or concentration on any one work. First, even in his earliest writings there is a keen interest in demonology, though this
seems to be of the traditional Empedoclean and Platonic type. Next, throughout his works there seems to be a compulsive urge to
interpret the daimon not as an independent spirit but as the higher part of the soul when it is within the body or as the soul itself
separated from the body. Though sometimes closely linked to those Neoplatonists who peopled the world with daimones,
independent spirits influencing the world for good or evil, Plutarch generally represents such views as stimulating and provocative
rather than credible, while he himself prefers to minimize the influence of evil spirits even if they should exist. Particularly in the Lives
there is little indication he was convinced of the power of evil daimones. Where the word daimon appears in the Lives it can generally
be associated with tyche. Thus Plutarch, though offering in the mouths of some of the personages he created the substance of
Neoplatonic demonology—a demonology which had its roots in Xenocrates—remains faithful to the teaching of his divine master
Plato in the Timaeus that the daimon is within us, the higher part of the soul, capable through virtuous living of attaining to the true
apotheosis. It only seems fair to give him credit for that balance and common sense which exists in so much of his writing, to interpret
his difficult and puzzling comments on this subject not in an unfair manner based on isolated passages, but within the
interrelationship of his ideas throughout his extant writings.

Notes

1. Andres’ article can be found in RE Suppl. III (1918) 267-322. See also Waser’s article, RE IV (1901) 2010-2012. The fullest
treatment of Plutarch’s demonology is G. Soury, La démonologie de Plutarque (Paris 1942), but it overstresses the importance of the
demonological in his work, and fails to take into account the value of the personae dialogi. H. Erbse, “Plutarchs Schrift Peri
deisidaimonias,” Hermes 70 (1952) 295-314, J. Moellering, Plutarch on superstition (Boston 1963), P. Merlan’s account of Plutarch
in The Cambridge history of later Greek and early medieval philosophy (Cambridge 1967), p. 53-64, and D. Babut, Plutarque et
l’stoïcisme (Paris 1969) leave Soury’s assumptions unchallenged. J. G. Griffiths, Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride (Cambridge 1970), p.
25-28 and 383-386, develops the Oriental basis of the demonology. Like Griffiths, A. Corlu, Plutarque, le démon de Socrate (Paris
1970), has a sane approach to the demonology in De genio Socratis, a dialogue troubled by Quellenkritik. See the review by F. H.
Sandbach, JHS 92 (1972) 208-209. The standard reference work for Plutarch is K. Ziegler, Plutarchos von Chaironeia (Stuttgart
1964) = “Plutarchos,” RE 2. Reihe XXI (1951) 636-962 (with additional notes). Ziegler (p. 304) is quite cautious about Plutarch’s belief
in evil daimones, noting that he seldom speaks in his own person about them and that there are contradictory passages. M. Nilsson,
Geschichte der griechischen Religion, II (Munich 1951), p. 403, like Ziegler, is cautious. In contrast, Soury, op. cit., p. 141, 146, 150,
224, and Babut, op. cit., p. 389-440, esp. p. 435, uphold a growing belief in evil daimones and a consistent demonology. In opposition
to Soury’s thesis—also presented in “Plutarque, prêtre de Delphes,” REG 55 (1942) 50-69—are R. Flacelière, “Plutarque et la Pythie,
” REG 56 (1943) 72-111, V. Goldschmidt, “Les thèmes du De defectu oraculorum de Plutarque,” REG 61 (1948) 298-302, and F. E.
Brenk, “Le songe de Brutus,” Plutarque et l’epicurisme: Actes du VIIIe congrès de l’association Guillaume Budé (Paris 1969), p.
588-594. The latter view is supported by D. A. Russell, in his excellent new book placing Plutarch in his literary milieu, Plutarch (New
York 1973), p. 78. For Plutarch’s historical milieu there is now the excellent study by C. P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome (Oxford 1971).

2. The interlocking of daimon and tyche in the Lives can be found in the dissertation by E. Lassel, De Fortunae in Plutarchi operibus
notione (Marburg 1896), but the author does little more than cite passages and suggest possible sources.

3. Typical of Soury’s imprecision is his comment here: “Ses malheurs l’infortuné les donne pour des coups du dieu, pour des attaques
du démon—de son démon, peut on traduire” (op. cit., p. 49). As Erbse points out (op. cit., p. 289), Aristotle (Pol. 1315a) and
Xenophon (Ages. 11.8, Cyrop. 3.3.58) give deisidaimonia a good connotation, “respectful reverence,” a meaning which lasts to the
time of Theophrastus (of. D.S. 1.70.8, Heraclit. Qu. Hom. 1). Theophrastus himself defined it as fear of the divinity (to daimonion)
(Char. 16). Respect for the divine is the meaning in Polybius (6.56.7) where he praises the Romans for it. Fear of the divinity is the
general meaning in Plutarch (cf. De Is. 352b, 355d, 378a; Cam. 6.6Z). See Erbse, op. cit., p. 298.

4. Hendiadys occurs frequently in the essay, in the opening passage alone: 164e,
165a, 165b.

5. The development theory in Plutarch from R. Volkmann, Leben, Schriften und Philosophie des Plutarch von Chaironeia (Berlin
1869), p. 260-274, to that in the more recent work of Erbse, Moellering, and Babut poses many problems. The point is made in my
dissertation on Plutarch’s religion, and is supported by D. A. Russell (op. cit., p. 80-81). The idea of an early skeptical Plutarch does
not seem to square with the Pythagorean mysticism of De esu carnium, one of his first writings, according to the accepted relative
chronology.

6. The real name of the god was Baal Hammon (= El), but the bones of thousands of children have been discovered in the sanctuary
of the goddess Tanit. See B. H. Warmington, Carthage (London 1962), p. 156. Plutarch’s knowledge of foreign cults leaves much to
be desired. Diodorus (20.14) also assigned the sacrifice to Cronus.

7. H. D. Westlake, “The sources of Plutarch’s Pelopidas,” CQ 33 (1939) 11-22, thought the passage reflected Epicurean influence (cf.
Sent. 1), but its philanthropia is typically Plutarchan. For this element see H. Martin, Jr., “The concept of philanthropia in Plutarch’s
Lives,” AJP 82 (1961) 164-175, and H. G. Ingenkamp, Plutarchs Schriften über die Heilung der Seele (Göttingen 1971), esp. p. 131.

8. I. E. Linforth, The arts of Orpheus (Berkeley 1941), interpreted the passage to mean Xenocrates held the Titans were imprisoned
in human bodies. J. Strachan, “Who did forbid suicide at Phaedo 62b,” CQ 20 (1970) 216-220, argues that both the Dionysiac and
Titanic elements are in the soul, not the body.

9. Possibly the belief was Stoic or Chrysippan, since in contrast to his usual terminology Plutarch uses daimonia rather than
daimones—the terminology used in quoting Chrysippus in De Stoic. repugn. 1051c (= SVF 1178) and Quaest. Rom. 277a (not in
SVF): , 277a;
, 1051c. The latter is one of the strongest anti-demonological passages in Plutarch since he sees Chrysippus’ use of
evil daimones as a negation of divine providence.

10. A discussion of the explanation given by Cassius can be found in my talk for the Budé congress, op. cit., p. 588-594, and is
contained in Russell, op. cit., p. 77-78.

11. The vision is also reported in App. BC 4.134, though Appian and Plutarch do not seem to have read one another. Nilsson (op. cit.,
p. 213) thought the story came from a Greek original since in Valerius’ Latin version (1.7K) the daimon speaks Greek. Perhaps the
two Cassius’s were confused and the story then transferred to the more prominent Brutus.

12. Typical of the systematization approach are: E. Zeller, Philosophie der Griechen (Leipzig 1852); R. Volkmann, op. cit.; R. Hirzel,
Der Dialog (Leipzig 1895); B. Latzarus, Les idées religeuses de Plutarque (Paris 1920); G. Soury, op. cit.; and to some extent P.
Merlan, op. cit., which even gives some false information (p. 60-61) about the Pythian dialogues’ use of daimones. For daimones in
this period one can consult The Cambridge history of later Greek and early medieval philosophy, A. D. Nock and A. J. Festugière,
Corpus hermeticum (Paris 1945), esp., III, p. liv-lvi, A. J. Festugière, Hermetisme et mystique païenne (Paris 1967), p. 28-136, and
the reprint of R. Reitzenstein’s Poimandres (Stuttgart 1964, orig., Leipzig 1904). Recently J. Scarborough, Roman medicine (Ithaca
1969), p. 144-148, has noted the role of daimones in medical thought. A corrective to overstressing the differences between early
and later Greek religious thought, much of which concerns the daimones’ role, can be found in R. Gordon, “Fear of freedom?
Selective continuity in religion during the Hellenistic period,” Didaskalos 4 (1972) 48-60.

13. R. Heinze, Xenokrates (Leipzig 1892), p. 83, regarded the daimones as former souls because they retained “a remnant of the
passionate,” but H. Dörrie, “Xenokrates,” RE 2. Reihe IX (1967) 1512-1528, seems more accurate in treating them as part of grades
of being. Dörrie is puzzled by the soul-daimon fragments (Arist. Top. 2.6.112a, 32—repeated in less specific form at 7.1.152a, 5, and
alluded to in Alex. Aphrod. SE 176.13, Apul. De deo Soc. 15, and Suid. 443.32—a passage recently noted by M. Detienne, La notion
de daïmon dans le pythagorisme ancien [Paris 1963], p. 65, n. 4). Perhaps these fragments belong to earlier work of Xenokrates and
possibly a commentary on Plato. See also Detienne’s “Xenocrate et la démonologie pythagoricienne,” REG 60 (1958) 271-279.
Griffiths, op. cit., p. 38, vs. M. Pohlenz, Gnom. 21 (1949) 350, is inclined to see Persian influence on Xenocrates.

14. T. Eisele, “Zur Dämonologie Plutarchs von Chäronea,” Arch. f. Gesch. d. Philos. 17 (1904) 28-51, long ago protested against
exaggerations and misuse of speakers in reconstructing Plutarch’s demonology, but his overly restricted view of the daimon as “die
besondere Kraft der enthusiastisch veranlagten Seele” and the real demonic power as the precosmic soul hurt his case.

15. The importance of these theories in Plutarch has been noted by G. Soury, “Les questions de table et la philosophie religieuse de
Plutarque,” REG 62 (1949) 320-327, and H. Dörrie, “Emanation,” Parusia. Festgabe für J. Hirschberger, ed. K. Flasch (Frankfurt
1965), p. 119-141.

16. A. Corlu, op. cit., p. 45-82, rejecting the older source criticism, thinks the two apparently disparate speeches by Simmias and
Theanor are in essential agreement but that they have different conceptions of how the “daimonic” word is received: for Simmias it is
a word (logos) without sound (phonê) which pervades all but is only heard by the daimonic men; for Theanor, virtuous men merit the
aid of daimones who speak to them.

17. H. Mounard’s thesis, La psychologie de Plutarque, is summarized in Ann. de la Univ. de Paris 35 (Paris 1960) 341-342. The
matter is also interestingly treated by G. Verbeke, “Plutarch and the development of Aristotle,” in Aristotle and Plato in the mid-fourth
century, ed. I. Düring and G. Owen (Göteborg 1960), p. 236-247. In the same volume, p. 19-23, O. Gigon, “Prolegomena to an
edition of the Eudemus,” suspects that the Eudemus influenced Plutarch’s myths. In De virt. mor. 443b psychê is attached to nous
with a rein; at 446a-c, De amor. prol. 493e and De tranq. an. 465b the soul is like a ship being kept from destruction in the current by
its cable.

18. Cf. Men. appendix 6.1 (S. Jaekel, Menandri sententiae [Leipzig 1964], p. 130): . For
the mutability of daimon-tyche see Epit. 144 f., Georg. fr. 1, and Dysc. 271-286 with comment of E. Handley, The Dyskolos of
Menander (London 1965), p. 183. I have been unable to see F. H. Sandbach, Menandri reliquiae selectae (Oxford 1972) and A. W.
Gomme and F. H. Sandbach, Menander: A commentary (Oxford 1973). Like Plutarch, Clem. Alex. Strom. 5.14.130, Eus. PE 13.13,
Amm. Marc. 21.14.4, and Schol. Theoc. 2.28a (Wendel) only cite the first lines of the fragment. D. A. O’Brien, Empedocles’ cosmic
cycle (Cambridge 1969), p. 331, tries to give meaning to Empedocles’ daimones through the passage, but Plutarch is clearly thinking
in terms of tyche. For Plutarch’s use of Empedocles for his own purposes see J. Hershbell, “Plutarch as a source for Empedocles re-
examined,” AJP 92 (1971) 156-184.

19. So Soury, op. cit., p. 150, but he admits that the concept of double daimones is not “well-developed” in Plutarch.

20. J. R. Hamilton, Plutarch, Alexander (Oxford 1969), p. 140, translates as “Cleitus’ evil genius,” but the
phrase seems more open than this, and the context suggests the possibility of a tyche-daimon: “… it did not happen of set purpose,
but of some dystychia of the king, whose anger and intoxication furnished occasion for the daimon of Cleitus.” In De Rom. fort. 319d
Caesar’s daimon is clearly his tyche, as is “the great daimon of the Romans” (324b); and in Caes. 38.5Z his daimon is clearly his
tyche. Due to the shift in the meaning of daimon Plutarch is able to give a different twist to Solon’s speech to Croesus (from Hdt.
1.32) where daimon = theos, since for him daimon seems to equal tyche (Sol. 27.9Z).

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Source Citation (MLA 9th Edition)
Brenk, Frederick E. "‘A Most Strange Doctrine.’ Daimon in Plutarch." Classical and Medieval Literature Criticism, edited by Jennifer
Stock, vol. 226, Gale, 2022. Gale Literature Resource Center,
link.gale.com/apps/doc/H1420131570/LitRC?u=googlescholar&sid=sitemap&xid=e1c252db. Accessed 8 Aug. 2022. Originally
published in The Classical Journal, vol. 69, no. 1, 1973, pp. 1-11.
Gale Document Number: GALE|H1420131570