2. Wisdom for Sale? The Sophists and Money

Plato constantly accuses the sophists of teaching for money. For example, in the Hippias Major (282c–d) Socrates elaborates a distinction between the wise men of old, who did not think it right to charge fees, and the sophists of his own day, who all made huge profits from their instruction. This comparison is not incidental; it is absolutely integral to Plato’s characterization of the sophists and their practices. But why is money so important as a distinguishing trait? In this chapter I will argue that it is not a descriptive term reflecting historical realities—that the sophists were the first to charge money for wisdom—but rather that the close association of the sophists with money is redolent of disparagement and bias, a fact that scholars have perhaps not paid sufficient attention to. [1] In what follows I will explore some possible connotations this connection carried in antiquity, and I will also develop reasons why Plato adopted it as basic to his portrayal of the sophists.

I will proceed by first considering the pervasiveness of the juxtaposition of the sophists and fees in the Platonic tradition, [2] and then turn to other genres and writers. Of particular significance are the attitudes represented in old comedy and Isocrates, since these sources, to varying degrees, are independent of Platonic influence. I will focus especially on the degree to which it is possible (or not) to detect a consistent attitude vis-à-vis the sophists in these non-Platonic writers that corroborates the traditional characterization of them as a distinct group of practitioners of wisdom set apart by the practice of teaching for pay. In the final section I will broaden my exploration to include other ancient juxtapositions of money and sophia to see if we can identify additional groups of sophoi that were criticized for charging money. Such groups could potentially be used as parallels to our sophistic material to help us understand better the Platonic predilection for focusing on money and fees.

I will argue that teaching for pay was an inflammatory charge to which all sophoi, to one degree or another, were susceptible. It is important that we allow for a split between historical realities—about which we often know very little—and the way that those realities were expressed. A fee can be described as a gift or a bribe, but the practice of charging money can also go without comment. The language surrounding monetary transactions in antiquity is notoriously difficult to assess. Of particular sensitivity is the language surrounding sophia and the commodification of wisdom. Indeed, a favorite way to undermine the authority of a sophos (or public figures in general) was to suggest that they had monetary motivations and were driven by greed. We need to read the accusations—which is really what they are—against the sophists of exacting fees in light of these considerations.

First, then, let us consider what the Platonic tradition has to say about the sophists’ practice of accepting money for instruction. Although, as David Blank concludes, Plato never explicitly has Socrates condemn the sophists for taking money, [3] the Platonic corpus is full of satirical diatribes against their pecuniary aspirations. [4] Few passages capture these sentiments as well as the beginning of the Hippias Major (282d–e), where Socrates remarks that Protagoras, Gorgias, and Prodicus all earned a lot of money from their wisdom (sophia). To which Hippias answers:

Similar attitudes can be found in the Sophist (223b). There the visitor gives a definition of the expertise of the sophists. He describes it as belonging to the moneychanger’s trade (νομισματοπωλικῆς), since it is a chase of rich and prominent young men (νέων πλουσίων καὶ ἐνδόξων γιγνομένη θήρα). [6] This juxtaposition of sophists and fees is ubiquitous in Plato. E. L. Harrison has collected some thirty passages where the two are mentioned in conjunction, and he argues that this association is essential to Plato’s portrayal of the sophists: It should be clear that if Plato is not outright condemning the sophists for taking fees, he is also not using a value neutral language when describing their practices. Far from it: they are regularly portrayed as more interested in procuring material rewards for their services than in worrying about the intellectual content or effect of their sophia. All this is in sharp contrast to his characterization of Socrates in the Apology, where Socrates’ commitment to wisdom and the moral development of his fellow citizens has reduced him to all but total poverty. This hostile attitude towards the sophists is picked up and further elaborated by Xenophon and Aristotle. In the Cynegeticus (13.8–9), for example, Xenophon asserts that: The phrase πλουσίους καὶ νέους θηρῶνται echoes the line νέων πλουσίων … θήρα of the Sophist quoted above, and the thematic content of the passage—that the sophists prioritize money over wisdom and are thus undeserving of serious intellectual consideration—is perfectly in line with Platonic sentiments. Aristotle makes the same connection in the Sophistical Refutations (165a22): “The sophist is a trafficker (χρηματιστής) in what seems to be, but is not, wisdom (σοφία).” In the Memorabilia (1.6.13), Xenophon employs a double strategy of first asserting and then condemning what he sees as an inherent connection between money and wisdom (the latter predicated on the former) among the sophists. But this time he adds an extra layer of opprobrium by expanding on the cultural implications associated with offering one’s personal qualities for sale: Here Xenophon establishes a thematic sequence consisting of wisdom, money, and prostitution, in which the interference of the intermediary phase—money—runs the danger of corrupting and even conflating the things of the mind with the sphere of the body. [10] This is, of course, exactly the opposite trajectory of what we are wont to see in Plato. [11] In the Symposium and the Alcibiades I, for example, love (ἔρως) is restricted to using the physical as an initial stepping stone only to climb the philosophical ladder and ultimately reject the body in favor of the mind, thus gradually transforming itself from a physical, sexual desire directed at a specific individual to a generic non-physical love of the beautiful. [12] By reversing this trajectory and by introducing the concept of intellectual promiscuity, Xenophon invites us to appreciate the contentiousness of his portrayal of the sophists. In this antagonistic depiction the mention of teaching for money is crucial in allowing the association of sophistic sophia with the body and, ultimately, with prostitution. Read in this way, teaching for pay takes on a more sinister facet than has previously been recognized, and it paves the way for the successive ubiquitous complaints of the speciousness of sophistic wisdom.

The fourth-century CE philosopher Themistius is a testament to the enduring relevance of the Platonic tradition. When trying to clear himself of accusations of being a sophist, he invokes Plato’s definition in the Sophist (231d): Themistius understands Plato’s definition of sophist to include anyone who teaches for pay, regardless of the content of the instruction: In Themistius’ mind, then, the sole criterion for distinguishing a sophist hinges on whether he charges money for instruction. Considerations of intellectual content (e.g. rhetoric vs. dialectic; relativism vs. idealism) are of less relevance than this formal characteristic. To Themistius, just as to Socrates in the passage from Xenophon’s Memorabilia quoted above (1.6.13), the pecuniary focus of the sophists inevitably disqualifies them from being considered serious philosophers and consigns them to the sphere of the body. Themistius is careful to highlight the difference between himself, who improves both the body and the mind of his students, and the sophists, whose focus is exclusively on the body:

The sixth century CE Platonic commentator Olympiodorus brings the significance of the theme of teaching for pay into focus in his comments on a passage in Plato’s Alcibiades I. At 119a4 Socrates says that Pythodorus and Callias became wise by associating with Zeno, and that each paid him a hundred minas (ἑκάτερος Ζήνωνι ἑκατὸν μνᾶς τελέσας). “Why,” writes Olympiodorus, “did Zeno exact a fee, if he was a philosopher?” He goes on to speculate about possible reasons: to accustom his students to despise money, or to assist the poor by taking from the rich. The assumption seems to be that philosophy is incompatible with teaching for money, and Olympiodorus consequently concludes that Zeno “pretended to take money without taking it,” (91–92 Westerink). But why is Olympiodorus so hesitant to accept this portrayal of Zeno in the Alcibiades I? Gregory Vlastos is very helpful in clarifying what such a portrayal would entail: “To so represent him [Zeno] is to portray him unmistakably as a professional sophist.” [14] Olympiodorus presumably reached similar conclusions, that is, that teaching wisdom for pay is shorthand for sophist, and that is the reason for his consternation. [15] In accounting for this portrayal, Vlastos faced a dilemma. He either had to accept the depiction of Zeno as a sophist by Plato—which would question Zeno’s traditional inclusion in the canon of the Presocratic philosophers—or else he had to reject the Alcibiades I as inauthentic: A little later Vlastos revisits the issue of the dialogue’s inauthenticity and writes: But there is a case to be made that the two portrayals of Zeno in the Alcibiades I and Parmenides are not necessarily incompatible. [18] To begin with, in the Parmenides 128b–e Zeno says that he wrote his book in a youthful competitive spirit and that it was later published through unauthorized copying. This seems to imply that to Plato Zeno’s work was predominantly eristic in nature and had more affinities with the sophists than with philosophers. In Phaedrus 261b–e it is presumably Zeno who is intended by the epithet “the Eleatic Palamedes” whose rhetorical skill is such that “his listeners will perceive the same things to be both similar and dissimilar, both one and many, both at rest and also in motion” (trans. Gill and Ryan). This portrayal reinforces the picture from the Parmenides that to Plato Zeno’s work was predominantly eristic in character, and it does not seem entirely unreasonable to think that Plato regarded him as a sophist. The question remains why Vlastos would find the Zeno-sophist portrayal incompatible with his characterization as “Parmenides’ right-hand man.”

Nevertheless, as representatives of the Platonic tradition, both Olympiodorus and Vlastos found it puzzling, even impossible, to accept as sincere the designation of Zeno as teaching for pay by Plato, and so they devised different strategies to circumvent this dilemma: Olympiodorus postulated hidden motivations for Zeno’s behavior, while Vlastos challenged the Platonic authorship. To both, however, teaching for pay had become synonymous with being a sophist, even though Plato himself never explicitly made that connection or used the word sophist in connection with Zeno.

Thus far we have seen that there is a remarkable unity of attitudes in the representations of the sophists in the Platonic tradition. This tradition exhibits a thematic emphasis on money over wisdom, on body over mind, in stark opposition to the Platonic valorization of the intellect. More than anything, though, the lasting effect, as exemplified by Xenophon, Themistius, Olympiodorus, and Vlastos, is that the definition of “sophist” became based on a formal characteristic rather than on intellectual content. Next we shall turn to old comedy and Isocrates to see to what extent this unanimity of attitudes is reflected there as well.

In his influential article “Socratics Versus Sophists on Payment for Teaching,” David Blank undertakes to “summarize ‘popular’ complaints about the sophists’ accumulation of wealth.” [19] He concludes that, “the Athenians seem to have thought that the sophists charged outrageous fees.” [20] According to Blank, there is sufficient evidence in non-Platonic authors and genres—mainly old comedy—to support the claim that complaints directed at the sophists go well beyond Platonic criticism, and that Plato’s hostile characterization of them simply reflects these pre-existing, negative popular attitudes.

Before accepting Blank’s conclusions, however, let us review the testimonia that he uses in support of his argument. We are especially interested in any sources that fall outside the Platonic tradition, since they would testify to popular discontent with the sophists that is independent of Plato. [21] To what extent can we justifiably talk about resentment of the sophists for venality outside the Platonic tradition? [22]

In surveying Blank’s testimonia for popular discontent with the sophists, I have chosen to divide the material into five sections. We shall first treat Plato’s predecessors and contemporaries in old comedy (1) and Isocrates (2). Next, we shall consider the evidence found in Philostratus (3). Finally, we shall deal with two groups (4–5) of predominantly later sources that offer testimonia regarding the one hundred mina fees of Zeno, comments on Protagoras and Gorgias, and miscellaneous remarks about the sophists and fees.

Following Nestle, [23] Blank quotes liberally from the comic fragments to illustrate attacks on the sophists’ avaricious practices. But his treatment is often problematic. For example, when referring to Eupolis’ Κόλακες, he translates fragment 175 (K-A) as: “neither fire nor spear nor sword could keep sophists from coming to dinner” (1985:5), though there is no equivalent for the word sophists in the Greek (οὐ πῦρ οὐδὲ σίδηρος / οὐδὲ χαλκὸς ἀπείργει / μὴ φοιτᾶν ἐπὶ δεῖπνον). Storey offers a different interpretation of this passage, one where the sophists have no place at all: “I suspect it comes from the parodos, when the chorus of kolakes enters. The chorus would be describing their own abilities.” [24] Blank assigns Protagoras as the speaker of fragment 172 (K-A), although there is no evidence to support the view that the chorus consisted of sophists or indeed had anything to do with sophistical practices. [25] Storey has recently argued that such associations are mistaken: “these kolakes do not sound the least bit sophistic in fr. 172; they are expert spongers, and it is that picture that Eupolis is exploiting here.” [26] Blank also incorrectly represents Plato Comicus as criticizing the sophists’ greed, [27] when his remark is in fact limited only to Antipon’s φιλαργυρία. [28] He further writes (1985:5) that in Ἀστράτευτοι ἢ Ἀνδρογύνοι (fr. 36, K-A) Eupolis “referred to the sophists who spent their time ‘in the nicely shaded walks of the god Akedemos.’” But here, too, Blank seems to be mistaken: [29] “the associations of the Academy c. 420 are surely those of athletics rather than intellectuals.” [30] Finally, Blank’s assertion (1985:5) that the chorus of Eupolis’ Αἶγες was “comprised of goats representing sophists,” seems equally unwarranted. [31]

All in all, Blank’s use of old comedy as evidence of popular discontent with the sophists is unconvincing. There appears to be little evidence to support the claim that they were systematically attacked in old comedy. As Carey observes, Aristophanes’ rivals appear to have shown little interest in the sophists as individuals: [32] Far from singling out a distinct group of people as sophists, old comedy seems to use σοφιστής as a derogatory epithet applied to a broad category of intellectuals. The sophists “are presented more as an example of a familiar social nuisance (or in the case of Sokrates as an example of unworldly folly) than as a new and sinister corrupting force.” [34]

Isocrates also offers numerous testimonia regarding the sophists and money. What makes him a critical source is his contentious relationship with Plato. They disagreed about the role and content of education, and the wide discrepancies in their understanding of philosophia are well documented in modern scholarship. [35] Isocrates, then, just like the authors of old comedy, has the potential of offering us a view of the sophists that is independent of Platonic manipulation.

In the Antidosis (220) he asserts that the income of a sophist is contingent upon the moral development of his students: the better the student, the larger the earnings. He describes the successful students as “noble, honorable and wise and held in great esteem by their fellow citizens” (καλοὶ κἀγαθοὶ καὶ φρόνιμοι … καὶ παρὰ τοῖς πολίταις εὐδοκιμοῦντες). This characterization strikes a different tone from what we find in the Platonic dialogues, where the very possibility of teaching someone to be καλὸς κἀγαθός for a fee is questioned. In the same speech (155–156), in an effort to downplay the rumored gains of the sophists, Isocrates mentions that Gorgias—in his view the most successful of the sophists—left behind only a thousand staters despite his dedication to money-making. At the beginning of the Helen (2–3), Isocrates identifies particular individuals as sophists. He speaks disparagingly of their intellectual activities and criticizes them for “caring for nothing else but to make money off of the youth” (χρηματίζεσθαι παρὰ τῶν νεωτέρων, Helen 6). But the individuals that Isocrates singles out as sophists in the Helen significantly differ from the Platonic equivalent: Isocrates names Protagoras, Gorgias, Zeno, and Melissus. [36] Elsewhere he also refers to Solon, Empedocles, Ion, Alcmaeon, and Parmenides as sophists, [37] and he alludes to Plato’s Republic and Laws as sophistical works in a remark in To Philip (12). [38]

Most of the Isocratean sophists are treated as respectable philosophers in Plato. In contrast to Plato, Isocrates does not seem to see the issue of teaching for pay as a necessary corollary of the use of the word sophist; only twice does he mention particular individuals as sophists and remark on their habit of teaching for pay. When he discusses sophists and their fees elsewhere, he never identifies particular individuals. In Against the Sophists, for example, he complains about those who set themselves up as teachers of the young. They are, he writes, themselves in need of instruction and should thus pay rather than accept fees. [39]

As opposed to the unsympathetic treatment of the sophists in the Platonic tradition—a treatment that seems motivated by their portrayal as greedy peddlers of specious wisdom—Isocrates offers a more nuanced critique. In Against the Sophists (4) he points to the discrepancy between their practice of charging fees while publicly downplaying the importance of money: In Isocrates there is a distinction between what the sophists say and what they do: their official position is to dismiss the value of money—presumably in line with dominant social norms—while privately pursuing monetary gains. What upsets Isocrates is that they deviate from their publicly stated position. In contrast to Plato’s one-dimensional picture of sophistic greed, Isocrates acknowledges two points about teaching for pay: one that the sophists themselves publicly promote (disregard for money), and one that attracts Isocrates’ censure (greed). Far from openly announcing their fees, the Isocratean sophists are careful, at least rhetorically, not to violate the propriety of the social norms by presenting themselves as engaged in money-grabbing practices. They do not publicly endorse the practice of offering instruction for money, nor do they describe their relationship with students as an economic rapport between producer and consumer.

Isocrates himself offers an instructive example of how to negotiate the tension between charging fees and avoiding public opprobrium for greed. [40] As Yun Lee Too has shown, “he prefers to present the teacher-student relationship as an extension of a friendship (philia) or a guest-host relationship (xenia).” [41] Too goes on to point out that Isocrates frequently refers to his own teaching in terms of public service, and that he characterizes the advice that he offers in his writings as gifts. [42] In other words, Isocrates carefully embeds any discussion of what could be described as economic transactions in the language of friendship and reciprocity. The fees, together with the instruction itself, are represented as disinterested gifts presented out of a sense of gratitude (χάρις), [43] not as a contractual compensation for rendered services. By adopting the language of friendship and guest-host relationship, Isocrates skillfully resists seeming to commodify his sophia and simultaneously ensures that his practices appear decorous and safely situated within the social practices of the elite.

Isocrates’ self-presentation offers us an interpretive model by which to understand the complicated and often contentious language surrounding teaching for pay. He is preoccupied with making sure that no one mistakes his students’ fees as merely fees, but that they be understood as motivated by gratitude and reciprocity. It seems clear, given this emphasis, that there were others who disputed his characterization and accused him of banausic professionalism. [44] Many sophoi developed similar rhetorical strategies of representing their practices as embedded in networks of gratitude and civic service. [45] These rhetorical justifications were motivated by the frequent invectives against the monetary—and thus moral—integrity of sophoi. [46] What makes this a particularly difficult subject to address, however, is our almost complete lack of knowledge about the historical realities regarding teaching for pay in the ancient world. [47]

We will explore invectives against sophoi for venality in the next section. For now, I would like to round up the discussion about Isocrates by noting that he does not consistently single out specific individuals whom he labels sophists and accuses of teaching for pay. When he does identify particular individuals as sophists, however, they are at a strong variance with the Platonic sophists. He often leaves the objects of his invective vague and unspecific, as in Against the Sophists. This has led scholars to ask who the subjects of his attacks are. [48] Too has suggested that this vagueness is motivated by the genre of invective: In Against the Sophists, Isocrates appears to be using the sophists as foil for the articulation of his own intellectual position. He lumps them together as an amorphous group that he can attack with impunity. This practice resembles closely Carey’s description of old comedy’s utilization of the label sophist in respect to a broad type of sophoi as “an example of a familiar social nuisance” [50] —an indistinct group of people onto whom a number of unattractive qualities can be projected and subsequently criticized.

Next we shall consider Philostratus, who provides numerous testimonia on sophistic instruction for pay. He mentions the fees of Protagoras, Gorgias, Prodicus, and Hippias, but in so doing he seems largely to be rehearsing Platonic sentiments. For example, just as he relates that Protagoras was the first to converse for a fee (μισθοῦ διαλέγεσθαι πρῶτος εὗρε), he mentions Plato and alludes to a passage from the Protagoras. [51] In this passage Socrates describes how Protagoras refers to himself as a sophist and as being so confident in his ability as a teacher of excellence (ἀρετή) that he was the first to deem it right to charge a fee for this (πρῶτος τούτου μισθὸν ἀξιώσας ἄρνυσθαι). [52] When talking about Gorgias’ high fees for teaching Polus, on the other hand, Philostratus quotes directly from the Gorgias (467b), where Polus is featured as Socrates’ interlocutor. [53]

In the introduction to the Lives of the Sophists (482–483), Philostratus describes how Prodicus went from city to city with his Heracles fable and gave a paid lecture (ἔμμισθον ἐπίδειξιν), and he adds that he “charmed the cities like an Orpheus” (θέλγων αὐτὰ τὸν Ὀρφέως … τρόπον), a phrase that appears to be borrowed from Plato’s description of Protagoras in Protagoras 315a (κηλῶν τῇ φωνῇ ὥσπερ Ὀρφεύς). His description of Prodicus’ habit of “searching out the young nobles (εὐπατρίδας) and those from wealthy homes” echoes Plato’s definition of the sophist as “a paid hunter of wealthy young men” in Sophist 231d. [54] Finally, when addressing Hippias’ desire for money, he mentions Hippias’ visit to Inycum in Sicily, narrated in Hippias Major 282e, and adds that Plato mocked its citizens. [55] It seems safe to say, then, that Philostratus offers little evidence about the practice of teaching for money of Protagoras, Gorgias, Prodicus, and Hippias that can justifiably be classified as independent of Plato. His discussion of the sophists’ fees appears deeply informed by the Platonic dialogues, which he often paraphrases or directly quotes.

Finally, we need to consider two clusters of evidence: one that deals with the one hundred mina fees and one that contains miscellaneous remarks about teaching for pay. In 1975 Vlastos protested against what he saw as the uncritical scholarly acceptance of five ancient testimonia claiming that Zeno, Protagoras, and Gorgias charged one hundred mina fees. [56] Vlastos contrasted these references with earlier sources (mainly Plato and Isocrates) and concluded that the one hundred mina fee was a fantastic sum “fished up” by later writers. [57] Kerferd, writing in 1981, adopted a more agnostic stance, and acknowledged that we know close to nothing about the actual circumstances regarding the fees, such as the length of the course or number of students. [58] The testimonia look suspiciously standardized, and their lateness and uniform agreement on the one hundred mina fee detract from their validity as compelling sources on the sophists’ fees. But to try, as did Vlastos, to establish actual historical amounts based on Plato and Isocrates seems equally misguided. The sum probably originates from Plato’s Alcibiades I. As evidence for teaching for pay, however, this group of testimonia offers little of value.

There is finally a group of miscellaneous references to the sophists and teaching for pay. Diogenes Laertius (9.50) records that Protagoras and Prodicus declaimed speeches (λόγους ἀναγινώσκοντες) for which they charged fees. The very next sentence begins with a reference to Plato’s Protagoras, so it seems reasonable to suspect that Diogenes is drawing on Plato, perhaps having the Cratylus (384b2–6) in mind, where we hear of Prodicus’ variously priced lectures. Diogenes also relates an anecdote (9.56) of how Protagoras quibbled with a student over a fee. [59] In this group of testimonia we find Themistius’ description of how Protagoras, Gorgias, and Prodicus used to advertise their wisdom as just another thing for sale. [60] We have already explored Themistius’ indebtedness to Plato. Finally, Athenaeus (3.113d–e) mentions in an off-hand remark that Blepsias made more from his erudition than both Protagoras and Gorgias. These miscellaneous remarks do not amount to much in terms of offering independent evidence of the sophists’ practice of teaching for pay. Blank’s argument for the existence of popular discontent with the sophists’ fees—a discontent that Plato taps into, but does not articulate—seems unsupported. Many of the later sources seem simply to recycle the negative sentiments of the Platonic tradition, while Plato’s predecessors and contemporaries diverge in significant ways from his depiction of the sophists.

Plato’s testimony, in turn, is not a value-neutral description of historical realities, as it has often been treated, but a polemical and disparaging portrayal. It should perhaps be understood better as an example of what Owen has labeled “philosophical invective.” We are familiar enough with how invectives operate in genres such as iambic poetry, comedy, and oratory—where misrepresentation of or all out disregard for the facts is to be expected—but personal abuse in philosophical writing has rarely been studied. [61] In the final section we shall shift our focus from philosophical texts to attacks on sophoi in other genres. We shall be careful to note any analogies between the treatment of sophoi in these genres and the Platonic characterization of the sophists.

Lloyd has called attention to how the author of the Sacred Disease charges his rivals with fraud (2.1–10) and of being desirous of gain (βίου δεόμενοι, 4.17). [62] The epithets used to describe opponents are μάγοι (quacks/wizards), καθαρταί (purifiers), ἀγύρται (charlatans/beggar priests), and ἀλαζόνες (impostors). [63] In discussing this passage, Lloyd emphasizes the discrepancy between the vigor of the attacks and the self-assurance on the part of the author, on the one hand, and the actual differences of treatment promoted by the author and his opponents, on the other:

Aristophanes’ portrayal of Socrates and his disciples in the Clouds closely mirrors the Platonic treatment of the sophists. Socrates and his followers are said to teach success in speech if they receive pay (ἀργύριον ἤν τις διδῷ, 98), and this monetary arrangement is referred to three more times in the course of the play (245–246, 876, and 1146). [69] But this is not the only exchange of wisdom for money ridiculed in comedy, and the charge is not limited to Socrates and his followers. We see similar caricatures aimed at seers in the Birds (958–991) and the Peace (1045–1126). In these plays diviners appear on stage claiming to possess useful divine knowledge, but we soon learn that they are more interested in procuring gifts for themselves in return for their prophesies. [70] This arrangement of wisdom (sophia) for money or gifts is similar to the exchange between Strepsiades and Socrates in the Clouds as well as the sophistic practices portrayed in the Platonic tradition.

Seers in particular seem to be portrayed as possessing qualities that are usually associated with the sophists. [71] The connection between sophia and divination was strong in antiquity. Seers held a prominent position in the Greek wisdom tradition and were often referred to as both σοφοί [72] and σοφισταί. [73] They also exhibit similar social practices as the sophists. Like them, many led an itinerant lifestyle and interacted almost exclusively with the elite. In his exploration of the social position of the seers in ancient Greece, Jan Bremmer has noted that those who figure in our sources “belonged to the highest aristocracy.” [74] Mark Griffith likewise has called attention to tragedy’s portrayal of Teiresias “as a long-standing and integral member of the Theban political community” who never interacts with “lower-class characters.” [75] In the Republic (364b–c), Plato offers an unflattering portrayal of how seers (ἀγύρται δὲ καὶ μάντεις) come to the doors of the rich (ἐπὶ πλουσίων θύρας) to persuade them that they possess a god-given power (δύναμις) that, at little expense (μετὰ σμικρῶν δαπανῶν), they can put at the disposal of their wealthy patrons. [76] This description bears strong resemblances to the Platonic account of the sophists’ gravitation towards the houses of the wealthy. [77]

But similarities between sophists and seers are not limited to formal characteristics. Grube detected a significant intellectual indebtedness to the sophistic movement in the Euripidean portrayal of Teiresias in the Bacchae, and he posited that there were other such “theological sophists” active in fifth-century Athens: Building on Grube, Paul Roth has explored the intellectual indebtedness of fifth- and fourth-century seers to their surrounding intellectual environment, and he has persuasively argued for strong overlaps. [79] Just like sophists, then, seers are represented as practitioners of wisdom eager to sell their sophia to anyone interested in paying for it, and their avarice is viciously criticized. The treatment of the Theban seer Teiresias in tragedy is exemplary of this development—a treatment we will explore next to illuminate the typological characteristics of the censure against seers. [80]

Teiresias is repeatedly referred to as σοφός [81] and is welcomed on stage as a well-disposed and potentially salutary figure. When he first appears in Oedipus Rex (300), for example, he is heralded by Oedipus as possessing omniscient powers and as being the sole savior of the state, the one on whom they were all depending (ἐν σοὶ γὰρ ἐσμέν, 314). After Teiresias’ initial refusal to share his divinely inspired information (φάτιν, 323), Oedipus gently prods him by pointing out that his unwillingness to share his knowledge is not a grateful gesture vis-à-vis the city that nurtured him (οὔτε προσφιλῆ πόλει / τῇδ’, ἥ σ’ ἔθρεψε, 322–323). Oedipus’ strategy consists in emphasizing the bonds of kinship and mutual dependency that exist between them to compel the seer to volunteer his information. When Teiresias finally speaks out and reveals that it is Oedipus who is the murderer of Laius, Oedipus quickly discards any remaining notions of affinity and accuses Teiresias of conspiring against him with Creon. He goes on to add that Teiresias has eyes only for profits but is blind in respect to his art (ἐν τοῖς κέρδεσιν / μόνον δέδορκε, τὴν τέχνην δ’ ἔφυ τυφλός, 388–389). There is thus a complete reversal of the initially cordial reception: Teiresias goes from being a savior to an impostor and quack (μάγος and ἀγύρτης, 387–378). [82] In connection with this emotional turnaround, Oedipus introduces the accusation of greed.

In Antigone, Creon directs a similar accusation of venality at Teiresias. Initially (993), however, Creon stresses that he has always in the past followed Teiresias’ advice, and that he can testify to the benefits of doing this from personal experience (ἔχω πεπονθὼς μαρτυρεῖν ὀνήσιμα, 995). When it becomes clear to Creon that the advice that Teiresias gives—that he allow a proper burial for Polynices—goes against his own creed, he lashes out at him (1035–1036) and complains that he has been bought and sold and exported long ago (ἐξημπόλημαι κἀκπεφόρτισμαι πάλαι) by the race of seers; and a little later, in line 1055, he exclaims that the whole breed of seers is money-loving (τὸ μαντικὸν γὰρ πᾶν φιλάργυρον γένος). Just as in the passage from Oedipus Rex, the charge of greed is triggered by the failure of reciprocity: only when Teiresias fails to deliver what Oedipus and Creon have reasons to expect from a trusted and valuable advisor do they resort to attacking his credibility by accusing him of greed. The same pattern is repeated in the Bacchae (255–257), where Pentheus accuses Teiresias of having introduced the worship of Dionysus to give himself more opportunities to observe the birds and to charge fees for interpreting burnt offerings. [83]

Teiresias, then, is introduced as a privileged advisor to the rulers. He is revered for his wisdom and is thought of as well-disposed to the leaders and the community he serves. In Oedipus Rex and Antigone he is invited to help bring resolution to the affliction that is currently weighing down on the polis. When Teiresias provides information that is perceived as unfavorable to the ruler and the polis at large, the offended party retorts by invalidating his sophia by charging him with greed. By implication, if his answer complies with the expectations of his interlocutors and is seen as beneficial, no such charge would be levied against him. What is so titillating about the initial encounters between Teiresias and Creon in Antigone, and Teiresias and Oedipus in Oedipus Rex is that it offers a glimpse of what an ideal interaction might look like. [84]

To judge from his cordial reception, we can infer that Teiresias’ advice was well-received in the past, and that his socially elevated position depends on his previously successful guidance. As opposed to comedy, tragedy does not convey an exclusively negative picture of seers as butts of abuse, but tends instead to focus on the breakdown in reciprocity, when cordiality turns into invective. What motivates this charge, then, is not the historical realities—all seers were greedy and all too willing to sell their wisdom for money—but the rhetorical strategy of attacking one’s opponent’s weakest point. The allegation of greed and bribery accomplishes precisely that: it undercuts the authoritative position of the sophos by implying that he has ulterior motives.

I suggest that we use the findings from the Sacred Disease, comedy, and tragedy as an analogy to the charges against the sophists of teaching for pay in the Platonic tradition. There are important overlaps and thematic continuities in the way the accusations of venality are treated in these authors and genres. First, the charge often occurs as part of a more general invective discourse, coupled with abusive and derisive epithets such as ἀλαζών, ἀγύρτης, and μάγος. [85] Second, its force is mainly destructive, aiming to undermine the authoritative claims of the opponents. Finally, it does not seem to be motivated by an ambition to establish actual historical differences in social practices; rather it is an expression of what Lloyd calls the “argumentative weaponry” of the accusers.

In political oratory, charges of bribery are legion, but few would mistake rhetoric for reality in this context. [86] We need to allow for a similar split in the representation of seers in comedy and tragedy and, by extension, of the sophists in the Platonic tradition. Our knowledge about the factual details regarding fees and monetary rewards for instruction is very scant, but the treatment of Teiresias offers us an interpretive framework for understanding the shift from a potentially unproblematic interaction to an aggressive emphasis on money and intellectual fraud. [87] Although Plato’s characterization of the sophists (or the comic treatment of seers) shows no interest in this shift of attitude but focuses exclusively on invective, the motivation for the abusive treatment remains comparable: to deflate the intellectual credentials of the opponents and, concomitantly, to boost one’s own claims to sophia.