1
Characterized Sōphrosunē
1.1 Chariton’s Callirhoe
This section will be concerned with the role and representation of the term and concept of sōphrosunē in the characterization of several major characters in Chariton’s novel. Male sōphrosunē is defined by individual characterization and social status, as demonstrated in the representation of three major male characters (Dionysius, Artaxerxes and Chaereas): how they are represented as regards their sōphrosunē or lack thereof will lead on to analysis of their individual struggles with intense passions, and the extent to which their submission to love or jealousy means a loss of sōphrosunē or self-control. Next, we will consider Callirhoe’s sōphrosunē, and how its preservation is to her a central concern. She focuses on fidelity of the soul (towards Chaereas), rather than on absolute sexual chastity, thus gaining subjectivity and autonomy despite her outwardly passive persona.
1.1.1 Dionysius: Erōs, Sōphrosunē and reputation
Dionysius’ possession of sōphrosunē and his ethical struggle regarding his erotic desire have complex implications for how Chariton approaches sōphrosunē, and this unusual antagonist’s regard for sōphrosunē is a good place to start this discussion. Dionysius’ internal struggle between pathos and logismos has been well analysed in recent scholarship.1 This section will demonstrate the extent to which sōphrosunē is represented in direct opposition to Erōs, before focusing on how Dionysius’ sōphrosunē is closely related to his reputation, and the consequences of this for his overall characterization.
At 2.4.5, following Dionysius’ soliloquy in which he rails against himself for what he perceives as his immature passion, unworthy of a cultivated man, who is first among the Ionians, the narrator states that:
ἐφιλονίκει2 δὲ ὁ Ἕρως βουλευομένῳ καλῶς καὶ ὕβριν ἐδόκει τὴν σωφροσύνην τὴν ἐκείνου· διὰ τοῦτο ἐπυρπόλει σφοδρότερον ψυχὴν ἐν ἔρωτι φιλοσοφοῦσαν.3
But Erōs struggled with these fine deliberations, considering his self-restraint an insult, and for that reason inflamed all the more a heart which attempted to philosophize with love.4
The way in which this is expressed through the focalization of Erōs, who transgressively aligns sōphrosunē with hubris,5 suggests that this is not a straightforward narratorial statement, but is rather an indication of the dangerous, and anti-ethical potential of Erōs and the emotion he represents. Smith suggests that Chariton’s portrayal of Dionysius’ internalized struggle indicates the generic propensity for demonstrating Erōs’ complete control over his victims.6 Dionysius’ internal agōn allows insight into the nature of his desire, represented by ‘Erōs’: while Dionysius is displaying sōphrosunē in his reasoned rejection of his erotic impulse, he is not sōphrōn enough to overcome his passion. Erōs’ view of Dionysius’ restraint as hubris also implies that it is not Dionysius’ place to choose whether he succumbs to his desire: his surrender is a necessity imposed on him by Erōs. Dionysius’ educated ability to act with sōphrosunē is therefore shown to be useless in the face of his emotion. Balot suggests that the end-result of Dionysius’ loss of self-control is that he becomes selfish, dishonest, and calculating.7 This is perhaps a little harsh: even though there is a marked deterioration in Dionysius’ moral behaviour,8 it is not altogether reprehensible, but rather indicates the flexibility of one’s moral limits when Erōs is in control. Dionysius, as a man with a cultivated reputation, wishes to display his judgement, reason and sōphrosunē. However, Erōs, or the desire which he personifies, signifies the implacable power of Callirhoe’s beauty over this male subject.
Dionysius claims, at 2.6.3, that he is famed for his sōphrosunē.9 This self-definition is borne out by his behaviour and by his noble struggle against his passion for Callirhoe. He suggests that it is his sōphrosunē that stops him from violating Callirhoe:
… καὶ Διονύσιος ὁ ἐπὶ σωφροσύνῃ περιβόητος ἄκουσαν ὑβριῶ, ἣν οὐχ ὕβρισεν οὐδὲ Θήρων ὁ λῃστής;
… Shall I, Dionysius, famous in my self-restraint, violate an unwilling woman whom not even the pirate Theron violated?
Here hubris and sōphrosunē are in direct opposition. The iteration of hubris in this passage highlights this opposition, which directly contradicts Erōs’ implication in their alignment discussed above:10 Dionysius understands that sōphrosunē is crucial in overcoming any intention of committing hubris in the name of desire, and this ironizes Erōs’ perspective and deliberate subversion of the virtue. However, while the use of the same terminology is surely significant, the meaning of hubris at these two junctures is different: at 2.4.5, Erōs sees Dionysius’ sōphrosunē as hubris in that it is an affront to the god’s unimpeachable power over his victim, whereas at 2.6.3, Dionysius’ use of the term implies sexual violation, which can be avoided if one possesses sōphrosunē. The semantic range of hubris and its cognates allows both Erōs’ and Dionysius’ perspectives to be technically right, but the reader is encouraged to question whether these disparate representations of hubris and sōphrosunē suggest more about each character’s motivation than about the concepts themselves. Jones argues that this scene is indicative of how important Dionysius’ reputation is to him: his renown for sōphrosunē means he must not be worse than low-life individuals such as Theron.11 There is the worrying implication that if Dionysius did not have a reputation to uphold, it might be acceptable, in his own view, for his behaviour to extend to sexual violence. Sōphrosunē has a crucial role to play in this situation, Dionysius implies: it acts as the tempering force on physical desire in those who have acquired it, because they have to live up to expectations. The fact that this suggestion is framed as a rhetorical question in a series of such questions directed at his slave Leonas, further complicates matters. The questions build in emotional intensity towards this final one, demonstrating that Dionysius’ passion and his education succeed in producing good rhetoric. But this begs the question of whether he really believes what he is saying. Is there the subtle implication that Dionysius is trying to convince himself of what he claims? His reputation for sōphrosunē should prevent hubris, and he knows this, but maybe he doubts his own capacity for performing in the appropriate manner, for not committing a violation of Callirhoe’s honour and his own.
The above discussion suggests that sōphrosunē, far from being a virtue held for its own sake by morally upstanding individuals, was intrinsically involved in the reputation and rhetorical self-definition of the elite male. This is not to claim that Chariton’s picture of Dionysius necessarily reflects reality in the Imperial Greek world, which would be to deny the role of fantasy and imagination in this novel. However, the behaviour of this nobleman must be grounded in contemporary cultural attitudes to some extent. Chariton shows us how a man might react to erōs: but Dionysius does not display complete moral agency; rather he displays sōphrosunē, as befits a man of his social status and rhetorical ability. It is easy to see in Dionysius’ behaviour a deeply held sense of right and wrong, and even a respectful chivalry. We must not be wrong-footed in this way. It is not Chariton’s concern to demonstrate Dionysius’ moral nature, but instead to convey the transgressive nature of illicit desire (represented by Erōs), and how a man in Dionysius’ position must attempt to fight against that desire with sōphrosunē, or at least seem to do so.12
1.1.2 Royal restraint?
At 6.1.9, the King of Persia, Artaxerxes, in the throes of passion over Callirhoe, makes the following speech:
σκέψαι τί σοι πρακτέον ἐστίν, ὦ ψυχή· κατὰ σαυτὴν γενοῦ· σύμβουλον οὐκ ἔχεις ἄλλον· ἐρῶντος σύμβουλός ἐστιν αὐτὸς ὁ Ἔρως.
Consider, my soul, what you should do: become yourself again. You have no other counsellor: Erōs is the lover’s counsellor.
It is noted that Artaxerxes’ dilemma is in many ways a repeat of Dionysius’, but also that his situation involves his power as much as his passion.13 However, at this point the King articulates his dilemma with perspicacity: he will be proven right by subsequent events, when his obsequious eunuch fails to succeed in his efforts to assist him, so that it is indeed the case that unless his soul can overcome this passion, only Erōs can provide the cure. Power, then, is not enough to conquer Erōs, but it is the language of power over the self by which the King’s self-control is depicted.14 Artaxerxes’ struggle is with himself: he tries to find a solution, and initially believes this is within his power. Although he knows Erōs can conquer the gods, he never believed that anyone could compete with him and win (6.3.2).
The eunuch Artaxates emphasizes the idea of the King’s ubiquitous power, when he asks:
ποῖον … κάλλος δύναται τῆς σῆς κρατῆσαι, δέσποτα, ψυχῆς, ᾧ τὰ καλὰ πάντα δουλεύει, χρυσός, ἄργυρος, ἐσθής, ἵπποι, πόλεις, ἔθνη;
Master, what beauty can control your soul, when all that is beautiful is subject to you, gold, silver, clothes, horses, cities, peoples?
6.3.4
The language of power (κρατῆσαι) and slavery (δουλεύει) puts the King’s world into sharp relief: he is master of everything and everyone is his slave. However, the focalization through the eunuch marks his character as much as the King’s: it is Artaxates’ sincere belief that everything is within his master’s power; and he proves in his relentless pursuit of Callirhoe that he thinks that the slave closest to the omnipotent ruler has much of that power by default. The use of language which depicts power over self, rather than direct sōphrosunē, demonstrates how the narrator intends the King to be seen. The distinction...