Socrates often said that he was merely a human being with no share in divine wisdom or virtue; but Socrates himself lived a life of superhuman self-control, wisdom, and virtue. There is an ironic contrast between his verbal professions of humility and the commanding power of his own heroic life. For example, despite his avowals of ignorance, Socrates also claimed to receive personal admonitions directly from the gods. My portrait of Socrates is based on the contrast between how he saw himself (in the Apology of Plato) and how he was viewed by his students (in Alcibiades’ memoir in Plato’s Symposium). Socrates presents himself as all-too-human, but his students saw him as quasi-divine. Despite his verbal modesty in the face of divine wisdom, Socrates’s own life and death became the very paradigm of how a human being can become godlike by means of rational discipline.

Chapter four examines the Muses, the sole female divinities who are regularly depicted as musicians in the surviving visual material. The ambiguity inherent to their representation, where it is never clear whether they are goddesses or human women, allows for their bodies to become visual forms capable of taking on multiple identities. Laferrière considers the images within their original contexts, including the domestic sphere, the cemetery, the sanctuary, and the symposium, to examine how the images invited their viewers to imagine the sounds of divine music and what effect this visualized music had upon the viewing audience. In each instance, she argues that the depictions of the Muses respond to the spaces in which they are encountered, so that their visual interpretation becomes inherently multivalent and malleable. When representations of the Muses are considered within a range of possible contexts of use, the vases make a powerful statement about the Muses: not only may they appear in any context or work through any female figure, but as divinities who are flexible in their visual representation, the Muses become visual forms capable of taking on multiple identities.

Chapter five focuses upon scenes of revels in which Dionysos is surrounded by the musical and danced performances of satyrs and maenads, the mythical beings who accompany him. Dionysos exhibits a distinct kind of musicality: unlike the other gods, Dionysos rarely plays an instrument himself. Rather, he acts as the source of inspiration for satyrs and maenads, prompting them to play their instruments, dance to the wild music they produce, and lose themselves, collectively, to the ecstatic sounds that envelop them. The movements of the satyrs and maenads also communicate to the external viewers how they might experience Dionysos’ presence. Within the symposium, ancient viewers created the opportunity for Dionysos to manifest when they consumed wine from the vases, looked at the representations of mythical revels, listened to music performed on similar instruments, and moved their bodies in response to the music they both saw and heard. Such immersive and imaginative seeing and hearing thus allowed the symposiasts to join in the divine revel, where, under the influence of Dionysos, they played instruments and danced with satyrs and maenads.

We appraise Alexander’s court. We ask what constituted a ‘court’, as well as considering problems with assessing Alexander’s and those of the earlier Macedonian kings. A brief bibliographic survey follows, with salient literature about the court and institutions, Macedonian prosopography, and related topics. We then examine elite offices, specifically the Hetairoi or Companions, the Royal Pages or King’s Boys, the Royal Bodyguard, and specialized army units populated by the elite, such as the Royal Hypaspists. Finally, we consider two institutions exploited by the kings to engage with the Companions and read their mood: the royal symposium and the royal hunt.

This Chapter discusses some of Galen’s technical works, especially those dealing with physiological psychology to show that Galen’s resourceful combination of popular philosophy and medicine is intended to promote mental alertness in his readers in various aspects of their personal and social lives, such as the symposium or the area of maintaining good health (hygiene). The control of emotions and the social embeddedness of ethics that Galen emphasises in these passages while at the same time describing the physical basis of character formation, make him stand out from other medical authors inasmuch as they reveal his proposed vision of a moral form of medicine.

Known chiefly from sources related to democratic Athens, the Sophists emerge from the competitive ethos of aristocratic Greek society. The impetus for the Sophistic movement was the transformation of social and political relations within the Greek world following the defeat of Xerxes. These changes were most dramatically felt and best recorded at Athens. The phenomenal wealth of fifth-century Athens increased the number of Athenians aspiring to an aristocratic lifestyle and intensified the competition for social recognition and for preeminence in politics. Verbal dexterity was a key attribute in the pursuit of such standing. Sophists attracted students by promising to impart such skills in the young men of wealthy families. The turmoil of war in the late fifth century encouraged some of those influenced by Sophists to turn toward oligarchic revolution at Athens, tainting the reputation of Sophistic learning, leading to the condemnation of Socrates for his engagement with these self-proclaimed teachers of political virtue and wisdom.

This chapter assesses the cultural and broader symbolic significance of the symposium in Plutarch’s biographical and philosophical works. It begins by situating Plutarch’s references to the symposium in their cultural context, by examining the symposium/convivium as a key social institution in the Roman imperial period. Next, the chapter discusses the symbolic dimension of conviviality in Plutarch’s oeuvre, through characteristic examples from the Lives and Moralia. It underlines that, for Plutarch, the symposium serves as a tool for evaluating moral character, as well as for conducting cross-cultural comparison. In addition, Plutarch’s interest in philosophical dietetics turns consumption patterns and behaviour at symposia into an important point of focus and concern. The last two sections look closely at Plutarch’s two surviving sympotic works, the Banquet of the Seven Sages and Table Talk. It discusses their genre and literary techniques, their relationship to the philosophical tradition of sympotic writing initiated by Plato and Xenophon, and the central role they both assign to philosophical enquiry.

This chapter uses three secondhand reports (the testimonies on Petron and Philistion in the Anonymus Londiniensis, the speech of Eryximachus in Plato’s Symposium, and the treatise On Ancient Medicine) to point out that an interest in cosmological principles does not preclude more traditional explanations of health and disease. Petron, Philistion, and Eryximachus all combine their first principles with lower-level discussions of the humors, pneuma, and the “powers” of food and drink. Instead of replacing humors with cosmic principles, these doctors constructed multitiered narratives of pathogenesis, placing humors and cosmic principles at different points in the causal chain. After making this point, this chapter then demonstrates that the polemical On Ancient Medicine is an unreliable witness to what the cosmological doctors were doing. Whereas the author of this text claims that the prioritizing of such principles as the hot and the cold is incompatible with the attribution of diseases to the humors, the cosmological doctors were in fact more than comfortable with combining first principles with more traditional beliefs about the body.

Platonic love has often been attacked – notably by Vlastos – as fundamentally selfish. The basis of this argument rests on the claim that love for Plato is little more than a form of utility in which the beloved is exploited to enable the philosopher’s ascent and is simply the object of love to the extent to which he exhibits desirable qualities and not as an individual. This reading ignores the elements of erotic reciprocity found in both the Symposium and Phaedrus, in which the beloved is not merely a passive object, but rather an active participant with the lover in a mutually beneficial project defined by shared values, with both parties attempting to become as godlike as possible. The erastes is shown to care genuinely for the eromenos in the course of the philosophical pedagogy which Plato advocates. In the Phaedrus, the tripartition of the soul seems to be a further move towards non-individuality and the significance of the beloved’s individuality is regularly downplayed. Yet the abstraction inherent in Platonic love is revealed to be both beneficial as a mechanism for avoiding the negative aspects of interpersonal love, as well as a natural feature of the human condition: the striving after Beauty.

Marsilio Ficino adopted the concept of love from Plato and the Neoplatonists in order to elaborate his philosophy of humanity and divinity. In commenting on Plato’s Symposium, he employed amor/eros for his philosophical theology according to which God and the universe are united: love is that which binds all levels together. As such a mediator and power, it engages humans as a species, as individuals, and in societies. Love is the formula that makes the metaphysical reality intelligible and teachable. Love divides the good from the abject and sets the standard that is attainable and binding for all.

This chapter explores the different treatments the topic of love received in the Symposium and the Phaedrus. The Symposium expressly addresses the question of the character and benefits of eros – and the question of its nature. It is a philosophical enquiry into this phenomenon, conducted by a set of mature men (and the memory of one exceptional woman) who have personal experience in this topic and have thought about it. In the Phaedrus, by contrast, the topic is addressed from the point of view of a would-be lover trying, through a speech addressed to the young and inexperienced man, to persuade him to submit to his overtures and desires. For Plato, eros is crucial to the practice of philosophy, a force which can take us in two separate directions, towards the good and towards the bad.

Early studies on the grain trade in Rome and the Greek cities, and control of disorder that might follow breaks in supply, extended in the 1980s to patterns of agricultural production, fish supplies, and fish-processing, the latter based on a substantial archaeological record. Patterns of storage and consumption have been explored in tableware, drinking vessels, and in the ceramic and silverware record. Archaeology in recent years has extended valuably to botanical and zoological remains. An understanding of ancient mentalities, first developed in France, has opened up the thought world within which food and wine were consumed: the religious and mythological patterns and ideologies behind the symposium, meat consumption in temple precincts and other venues of consumption, much recorded in inscriptions on stone. This chapter reviews the evidence, emphasising the contribution of ancient writers on nutrition.

One of the ways in which Plato has captured the popular imagination is with the claim that the philosopher can feel ers, passionate love, for the objects of knowledge. Why should Plato make this claim? In this chapter, I explore Plato’s treatment of philosophical ers along three dimensions. First, I consider the source of philosophical ers. I argue that it is grounded in our mortality and imperfection, which give rise to a desire for immortality and the immortal. Second, I turn to the object of philosophical ers. I suggest that it is an arresting response to beauty, through which we come to value the ideal properties of the forms. Finally, I address the nature of ers. I claim that it is a focusing desire, that overrides other concerns and causes us to overwhelmingly focus on its object. I conclude the chapter by considering the problem Vlastos famously raises for Plato’s account of ers: can it do justice to disinterested, interpersonal love? In agreement with Vlastos, I claim that one who comes to grasp the forms will cease to feel interpersonal love; however, I also suggest that ers can give rise to philia, beneficent concern with the wellbeing of others.

Dissemination of psychological science is vital to the field, and there is a number of reasons why trainees and professionals in the discipline are motivated to present their work. There are several different venues available for presentations, and each might host a range of formats. The most common types of presentations include posters, symposia, panel discussions, or workshops. When preparing and conducting presentations, there are key tips to consider to optimize success. For example, it is critical that the presenter read through the venue requirements, which vary considerably. There are also key items to bring to conferences in case of technological or other problems. Repeated practice with critical colleagues in advance of the presentation is recommended to increase the chance of a good delivery in the more stressful circumstances with an audience. The advice and guidance provided in this chapter should help the presenter navigate the intricacies of presenting research. In fact, appropriate preparation and practice for presentation will likely lead to a highly gratifying experience for the presenter and audience.

Chapter 2 offers a visual paradigm for representations of black people in the ancient Greek world. It considers fifth-century BCE janiform cups that depict black and brown faces on opposite sides. Contemporary ideas are all the more pronounced when dealing with visual constructs of skin color in Greek antiquity and therefore require continual interrogation. Disputing the uncomfortable ease with which some art historians presume a fixed connection between black people and bumbling inferiority, this chapter argues that the black face serves as part of a repertoire of sympotic performance. Similar to masks, janiform cups enable drinkers in the symposium to adopt new identities. The discourse about the chromatics on janiform cups leads to a broader examination of black skin in ancient Greek art. Close scrutiny of museum displays reveals the temporal clash that can occur when audiences encounter iconography of black people in Greek antiquity. In particular, scrupulous inspection of the British Museum unearths a troubling tendency to privilege ancient Egypt as an indication of legitimacy and legibility, contrasted with Nubia.