-if ■4* wttK mmttttmrn «r*|«i(i .*.* f* CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BEQUEST JAMES McCALL Class of 1885 1944 3 1924 031 292 497 olin.anx Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031292497 PLUTARCH ON THE DELAY OF THE DIYINE JUSTICE. TRANSLATED AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES. BY ANDREW P. PEABODY. BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1885. Copyright, 1885, By Andrew P. Peabodt. Wnttarsili! ^Bnss: John Wilson and Son, Caubkicge. SYNOPSIS. § 1. The dialogue opens with comments on the cavils against the Divine Providence hy a person who is supposed to have just departed. 2. The alleged encouragement to the guilty by the delay of punishment, while the sufferers hy the guilt of others are disheartened by failing to see the wrong- doers duly punished. 3. The guilty themselves, it is said, do not recognize punishment when it comes late, but think it mere misfortune. 4. Plutarch answers the objections to the course of Provi- dence. In the first place, man must not be too con- fident of his ability to pass judgment on things divine. There are many things in human legislation undoubtedly reasonable, yet with no obvious reason. How much more in the administration of the uni- verse by the Supreme Being I 5. God by the delay of punishment gives man the example of forbearance, and rebukes his yielding to the first impulses of anger and of a vindictive temper. 6. God has reference, in the delay of punishment, to the possible reformation of the guilty, and to the services which, when reformed, they may render to their country or their race. Instances cited. 7. The wicked often have their punishment postponed till after they have rendered some important service iv Synopsis. in whioli they are essential agents, and sometimes that, before their own punishment, they may serve as executioners for other guilty persons or com- munities. § 8. There is frequently a peculiar timeliness and appro- priateness in delayed punishment. 9. Punishment is delayed only in appearance, hut com- mences when the guilt is incurred, so that it seems slow because it is long. 10. Instances of punishment in visions, apprehensions, and inward wretchedness, while there was no outward infliction of penalty. 11. There is reallj' no need that punishment be inflicted ; guilt is in the consciousness of the guilty its own adequate punishment. 12. Objection is made by one of the interlocutors to the justice of punishing children or posterity for the guilt of fathers or ancestors, and he heaps up an incongruous collection of cases in which he mingles confusedly the action of the Divine Providence and that of human caprice or malignity. 13. In answer to the objection, Plutarch first adduces as a precisely parallel order of things, with which no one finds fault, that by which children or posterity de- rive enduring benefit and honor from a parent's or ancestor's virtues and services. 14. There are alike in outward and in human "nature occult and subtle transmissions of qualities and properties, both in time and in space. Those in space are so familiar that they excite no wonder ; those in time, though less liable to attract notice, are no more wonderful. 15. A city has a continuous life, a definite and permanent character, and an individual unity, so that its moral responsibility may long outlast the lives of those who first contracted a specific form of guilt. Synopsis. v 16. The same is to be said of a family or a race ; and, moreover, the punishment for inherited guilt may often have a curative, or even a preventive efficacy, so that children or posterity may refrain from guilt because the ancestral penalty falls upon them before they become guilty. 17. The immortality of the soul asserted, on the ground that God would not have deemed a race doomed to perish after a brief earthly life worth rewarding or punishing. 18. Punishments in a future state of being are out of sight, and are liable to be disbelieved. Therefore it is necessary, in order to deter men from guilt, that there should be visible punishments in this life. 19. The remedial efficacy of the penal consequences of parental or ancestral guilt reaffirmed,' and illustrated by analogies in the treatment of disease. 20. God often punishes latent and potential vice, visible only to Omniscience. 21. If a child has no taint of a father's vices, he remains unpunished. But moral qualities, equally with physical traits, often lapse in the first generation, and reappear in the second or third, and even later. 22. The story of Thespesius, who — apparentl}' killed, but really in a trance, in consequence of a fall. — went into the infernal regions, beheld the punishments there inflicted, and came back to the body and its life, converted from a profligate into a man of pre- eminent virtue and excellence. INTRODUCTION.^ Plutarch ^ was born, about the middle of the first Christian century, at Cheroneia in Boeotia, where he spent the greater part of his life, and where he probably died. The precise dates of his birth and death are unknown ; but he can hardly have been born earlier than A. D. 45, and he must have lived nearly or quite till A. D. 120, as some of his works contain references to events that cannot have taken place earlier than the second decade of the second century. We know little of him from other sources, much from his own writings. There may have been many such men in his time; but antiquity has transmitted to us no record like his. He reminds - one of such men as were to be found half a cen- tury ago in many of our American country towns. Those potentially like them have now, for the most part, emigrated to the large cities, and have become very unlike their prototypes. Cheroneia, with its great memories, was a small and insignificant town, 1 A large part of this Introduction is reprinted, by permission of the editors, from an article of mine on " Plutarch and his Times," in the Andover Review, November, 1884. 2 HKoirapxos. viii Introduction. and Plutarch was a country gentleman, superior, as in culture so in serviceableness, to all his fellow citizens, holding the foremost place in municipal affairs, liberal, generous, chosen to all local offices of honor, and especially of trust and responsibility, associating on the most pleasant terms with the common people, always ready to give them his ad- vice and aid, and evidently respected and beloved by all. He belonged to an old and distinguished family, and seems always to have possessed a com- petency for an affluent, though sober, domestic establishment and style of living, and for an un- stinted hospitality. He was probably the richest man in his native city ; for he assigns as a reason for not leaving it and living at some centre of in- tellectual activity, that Cheroneia could not afford to lose the property which he would take with him in case of his removal. He had what corresponds to our university edu- cation, at Athens, under the Peripatetic philosopher Ammonius. He also visited Alexandria, then a renowned seat of learning ; but how long he stayed there, or whether he extended his Egyptian travel beyond that city, we have no means of knowing. There is no proof of his having been in Eome or in Italy more than once, and that was when he was about forty years of age. He went to Eome on public business, probably in behalf of his native city, and remained there long enough to become acquainted with some eminent men, to make him- Introduction. ix self known as a scholar and an ethical philosopher, and to deliver lectures that attracted no little public notice. This visit seems to have been the great event of his life, as a winter spent in Boston or New York used to be in the life of one of our country gentlemen before the time of railways. He had a wife, who appears to have been of a character kindred to his own ; at least five children, of whom two sons, if not more, lived to be them- selves substantial citizens and worthy members of society ; and two brothers, who seem to have pos- sessed his full confidence and warm affection. He was singularly happy in his relations to a large circle of friends, especially in Athens, for which he had the lifelong love that students in our time acquire for a university town. He was archon, or mayor, of Cheroneia, probably more than once, — the of&ce having doubtless been annual and elect- ive, — and in this capacity he entered, like a veritable country magistrate, into material details of the public service, superintending, as he says, the measuring of tiles and the delivery of stone and mortar for municipal uses. He officiated for many years as priest of Apollo at Delphi, and as such gave several sumptuous entertainments. Indeed, hospitality of this sort appears, so far as we can see, to have been the sole or chief duty of his priestly office. As an adopted citizen of one of the Athe- nian tribes, he was not infrequently a guest at civic banquets and semi-civic festivals. X Introduction. As regards Plutarch's philosophy, it is easier to say to which of the great schools he did not belong than to determine by what name he would have preferred to be called. He probably would have termed himself a Platonist, but not, like Cicero, of the New Academy, which had incorporated Pyrrho- nism with the provisional acceptance of the Pla- tonic philosophy. At the same time, he was a closer follower and a more literal interpreter of Plato than were the Neo-Platonists of Alexandria, who had not yet become a distinctly recognized sect, and who in many respects were the precursors of the mysticism of the Eeformation era. Plutarch, with Plato, recognized two eternities : that of the Divine Being, supremely good and purely spiritual ; and that of matter, as, if not intrinsically evil, the cause, condition, and seat of all evil, and as at least opposing such obstacles to its own best ideal ma- nipulation that the Divine Being could not embody his pure and perfect goodness, unalloyed by evil, in any material form. Herein the Platonists were at variance with both the Stoics and the Epicureans. The Stoics regarded matter as virtually an emana- tion from the Supreme Being, who is not only the universal soul and reason, but the creative fire, which, transformed into air and water, — part of the water becoming earth, — is the source of the material universe, which must at the end of a cer- tain cosmical cycle be re-absorbed into the divine essence, whence will emanate in endless succes- Introduction. xi sion new universes to replace those that pass away. The Epicureans, on the other hand, believed in the existence of matter only, and regarded mind and soul as the ultimate product of material organiza- tion. In one respect Plutarch transcends Plato, and, so far as I know, all pre-Christian philosophers. Plato's theism bears a close kindred to pantheism. His God, if I may be permitted the phrase, is only semi-detached. He becomes the creator rather by blending his essence with eternal matter, than by shaping that matter to his will. He is rather in all things than above all things, rather the Soul of the universe than its sovereign Lord. But in Plutarch's writings the Supreme Being is regarded as existing , independently of material things ; they, as subject to his will, not as a part of his essence. Plutarch was, like Plato, a realist. He regarded the ideas or patterns of material things, that is, genera, or kinds of objects, as having an actual existence (where or how it is hard to say), as pro- jected from the Divine Mind, floating somewhere in ethereal spaces between the Deity and the material universe, — the models by which aU things in the universe are made. As to Plutarch's theology, he was certainly a monotheist. He probably had some vague belief in inferior deities {daemons he would have called them), as holding a place like that filled by angels and by evil spirits in the creed of most Christians ; xii Introduction. yet it is entirely conceivable that his occasional ref- erences to these deities are due merely to the con- ventional rhetoric of his age. His priesthood of the Delphian Apollo can hardly be said to have been a religious office. It was rather a post of dignity and honor, which a gentleman of respectable standing, courteous manners, and hospitable habits might creditably fill, even though he had no faith in Apollo. But that Plutarch had a serious, earnest, and efficient faith in the one Supreme God,_in the wise and eternal Providence, and in the Divine wisdom, purity, and holiness, we have in his writ- ings an absolute certainty. Nor can we find, even in Christian literature, the record of a firmer belief than his in human immortality, and in a righteous retribution beginning in this world and reaching on into the world beyond death. But Plutarch was, most of all, an ethical philoso- pher. Yet here again he cannot be classed as be- longing to any school. For Epicureanism he has an intense abhorrence, and regards the doctrines of that sect as theoretically absurd and practically demoralizing. He maintains that the disciples of Epicurus, as such, utterly fail in the quest of pleas- ure, or what according to their master is still bet- ter, painlessness : for the condition of those who, as he says, " swill the mind with the pleasures of the body, as hogherds do their swine," cannot en- tirely smother the sense of vacuity and need; nor is it possible by any appliances of luxury to cut off Introduction. xiii even sources of bodily disc[uietude, which are only the more fatal to the happiness of him who seeks bodily well-being alone ; while tlie prospect of an- nihilation at death deprives those necessarily un- happy in this life of their only solace, and gives those who live happily here the discomfort of an- ticipating the speedy and entire loss of all that has ministered to their enjoj'ment. In Plutarch's moderation, his avoidance of ex- treme views, and his just estimate of happiness as an end, though not the supreme end, of being, he is in harmony with the Peripatetics, among whom his Athenian preceptor was the shining light of his age ; but his ethical system was much more strict and uncompromising than theirs, and I cannot find that he quotes them or refers to them as a distinct school of philosophy. In matters appertaining to phj'sical science he indeed often cites Ai'istotle, but not, I think, in a single instance, as to any question in morals. As regards the Stoics, Plutarch writes against them, but chiefly against dogmas which in his time had become nearly obsolete, — namely, that all acts not in accordance with the absolute right are equally bad ; that all virtuous acts are equally good ; that there is no intermediate moral condition between that of the wise or perfectly good man and that of the utterly vicious ; and that outward circum- stances neither enhance nor diminish the happiness of the truly wise man. These extravagances do xiv Introduction. not appear in the writings of Seneca, nor in Epicte- tus as reported by Arrian, and Plutarch in reason- ing against them is controverting Zeno rather than his later disciples. He is in full sympathy with the Stoics as to their elevated moral standard, though without the sternness and rigidness which had often characterized their professed beliefs and their public teaching, yet of which there remained few vestiges among his contemporaries. With the utmost mildness and gentleness, he manifests every- where an inflexibility of principle and a settled conviction as to the rightfulness or wrongfulness of specific acts which might satisfy the most rigid Stoic, and in which he plants himself as firmly on the ground of the eternal Eight as if his philosophy had been founded on a distinctively Christian basis. Indeed, Plutarch is so often decidedly Christian in spirit, and in many passages of his writings there is such an almost manifest transcript of the thought of the Divine Founder of our religion, that it has been frequently maintained that he drew from Christian sources. This, I nmst believe, is utterly false in the sense in which it is commonly asserted, yet in a more recondite sense true. If Plutarch had known anything about Christians or the Christian Scriptures, he could not have failed to refer to them ; for he is constantly making references to contem- porary persons and objects, sects and opinions. We know of no Christian church at Cheroneia in that age, and indeed it is exceedingly improbable Introduction. xv that there should have been one in so small a town. The circulation of thought, and consequently the diffusion of a new religion from the great centres of population to outlying districts or villages, was iufinitesimally slow. Our word "pagan is an en- during witness of this tardiness of transmission. It had its birth (in its present sense) after Chris- tianity had become the legally established religion of the Empire, and had supplanted heathen temples and rites in the cities, while in the ipagi, or villages, the old gods were still in the ascendant. There were indeed Christian' churches in Athens and in Eome ; but they would most probably have eluded the curiosity and escaped the knowledge of a tem- porary resident, especially as most of their chief members were either Jews or slaves. Yet I cannot doubt that an infusion of Christianity had some- how infiltrated itself into Plutarch's ethical opin- ions and sentiments, as into those of Seneca, who has been represented as an acquaintance and cor- respondent of St. Paul, though it is historically almost impossible that the two men ever saw or heard of each other. In one respect, the metaphor by which we call the Author of our religion the Sun of Eighteousness has a special aptness. The sun, unlike lesser lumi- naries, lights up sheltered groves and grottos that are completely dark under the full moon, and sends its rays through every chink and cranny of roof or wall. In like manner there seems to have been an indi- xvi Introduction. rect and tortuous transmission of Christian thought into regions where its source was wholly unknown. In the ethical writings of the post-Christian philos- ophers, of Plutarch, Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius, there may be traced a loftiness, precision, delicacy, tenderness, breadth of human sympathy, and recognition of holiness in the Divine Being as the archetype of human purity, transcending all that is most admirable in pre-Christian moralists. Thus, while I cannot but regard Cicero's "De Of- ficiis" as in many respects the world's master- work in ethical philosophy, containing fewer unchristian sentences than I could number on the fingers of one hand, there is nothing in it that reminds me of the Gospels; while these others often shape their thoughts in what seem to be evangelic moulds. N"ow I think that we may account for the large diffusion of Christian thought and sentiment among persons who knew not Christianity even by name. The new religion was very extensively embraced among slaves in all parts of the Eoman Empire, and slave then meant something very different from what it means now. It is an open question whether there was not, at least out of Greece, more of learn- ing, culture, and refinement in the slave than in the free population of the Empire. We must remember how many illustrious names in Greek and Eoman literature — such names as those of Aesop, Terence, Epictetus — belonged to slaves. Tiro, Cicero's slave, was not only one of his dearest friends, but fore- Introduction. xvii most among his literary confidants and advisers. Most of the rich men who had any love of litera- ture owned their librarians and their copyists, and the teachers of the children were generally the property of the father. Among Christian slaves there were undoubtedly many who felt no call to martyrdom, (which can have been incumbent on them only when the alternative was apostasy and denial of their faith,) who therefore made no open profession of their religion, while in precept, con- versation, and life they were imbued with its spirit, — a spirit as subtile in its penetrating power as it is refining and purifying in its influence. From the lips of Christian slaves many children, no doubt, received in classic forms moral precepts redolent of the aroma breathed from the Sermon on the Mount. If the social medium which Plutarch rep- resents is a fair specimen of the best rural society of the Empire in his time, there must have been a ready receptivity for the highest style of ethical teaching, — a genial soil for the germination of a truly evangelic righteousness of moral conception, maxim, and principle. Probably no book except the Bible has had more readers than Plutarch's Lives. These biographies have been translated into every language of the civilized world ; they have been among the earliest and most fascinating books for children and youth of many successive generations; and down to the present time, when fiction seems to have almost xviii Jntroduction. superseded history and biography, and to have de- stroyed the once universal appetency for them among young people, they have exercised to a marvellous degree a shaping power over character. They are, indeed, underrated by the exact historian, because modern research has discovered here and there some mistake in the details of events. But such mistakes were in that age inevitable. Histor- ical criticism was then an unknown science. Docu- ments and traditions covering the same ground were deemed of equal value when they were in harmony, and when they differed an author followed the one which best suited his taste, or his purpose for the time being. Thus Cicero, in one case, in the same treatise gives three different versions of the same story. Thus, too, there were several stories afloat aboiit the fate of Eegulus ; but Eoman writers took that which Niebuhr thinks farthest from the truth, yet which threw the greatest odium on the hated name of Carthage. Now I have no doubt that, whenever there were two or more versions of the same act or event, Plutarch chose that which would best point his moral. But it is only in few and un- important particulars that he has been proved to be inaccurate. It has been also objected to Plutarch, that he attaches less importance to the achievements of his heroes in war and in civic life, than to traits and an- ecdotes illustrative of their characters. This seems to me a feature which adds not only to the charm Introduction. xix of these Lives, but even more to their historical value. The events of history are at once the out- come and the procreant cradle of character, and we know nothing of any period or portion of history except as we know the men who made it and the men whom it made. Biography is the soul; his- toiy the body, which it tenants and animates, and which, when not thus tenanted, is a heap of very dry bones. The most thorough knowledge of the topography of Julius Caesar's battles in Gaul, the minutest description of the campaign that termi- nated in Pharsalia, the official journal of the Senate during his dictatorship, would tell us very little about him and his time. But a vivid sketch of his character, with well-chosen characteristic anec- dotes, would give us a very distinct and realizing conception of the antecedent condition of things that made a life like his possible, and of his actual influence for good and for evil on his country and his age. ISTor is the value of such a biography affected in the least by any doubts that we may entertain as to the authenticity of incidents, trivial except as illustrative of character, which occupy a large space in Plutarch's Lives. Indeed, the least authentic may be of the greatest historical value. An anec- dote may be literally true, and yet some peculiar combination of circumstances may have led him of whom it is told to speak or act out of character. But a mythical anecdote of a man, coming down XX Introduction. from his own time and people, must needs owe its origin and complexion to his known character. It is perfectly easy to see throughout these biog- raphies the author's didactic aim. If I may use sacred words, here by no means misapplied, his prime object was "reproof, correction, and instruc- tion in righteousness." He evidently felt and mourned the degeneracy of his age, was profoundly aware of the worth of teaching by example, and was solicitous to bring from the past such elements of ethical wisdom as the records of illustrious men could be made to render up. True to this purpose, he measures the moral character of such transac- tions as he relates by the highest standard of right which he knows, and there is not a person or deed that fails to bear the stamp, clear-cut, yet seldom obtrusive, of his approval or censure. The Lives, though the best known of Plutarch's writings, are but a small part of them, and hardly half of those still extant. His other works are generally grouped under the title of " Moralia," ^ or Morals, though among them there are many trea- tises that belong to the department of history or biography, some to that of physics. Most of these works are short; a few, of considerable length. Some of them may have been lectures; some are letters of advice or of consolation; some are in a narrative form ; many are in the form of dialogue, which, sanctioned by the prestige of Plato's pre- 1 1h riSiKd. Introduction. xx i eminence, was very largely employed by philoso- phers of later times, possessing, as it does, the great advantage of putting opposite and diverse opinions in the mouths of interlocutors, and thus giving to the treatise the vivacity and the dramatic interest of oral discussion. Some of these dialogues have a symposium, or supper party, for their scene, and introduce a numerous corps of speakers. In these Plutarch himself commonly sustains a prominent part, and the members of his family often have their share in the conversation, or are the subjects of kindly mention. In several instances the occa- sion, circumstances, and conversation are described so naturally as to make it almost certain that the author simply wrote out from memory what was actually said. At any rate, these festive dialogues present very clearly his idea of what a symposium ought to be, and in its entire freedom from excess and extravagance of any kind it would bear the strictest ordeal with all modern moralists, the ex- treme ascetics alone excepted. Had not the Lives been written, I am inclined to believe that the Moralia alone would have given Plutarch as high a place as he now holds, not only in the esteem of scholars, but in the in- terest and delight of all readers of good books ; and I am sure that there is no loving reader of the Lives who will not be thankful to have his atten- tion drawn to the Moralia. They exhibit through- out the same moral traits which their author shows xxii Introduction. as a biographer. He treats, indeed, incidentally, of some subjects which a purer ethical taste in the public mind might have excluded. He rec- ognizes the existence of immoralities, which, not discreditable in the best society of unevangelized Greece and Eome, have almost lost their place and name in Christendom. Some of his dialogues have among the interlocutors those with whom as good a man as he would in our time associate only in the hope of converting them. But his own opinion and feeling on all moral questions are uniformly and explicitly in behalf of all that is pure, and true, and right, and reverent. Many of these Moralia are on what are com- monly, yet wrongly, called the minor morals, that is, on the evils that most of all infest and destroy the happiness of families and the peace of society, and on the opposite virtues, — on such subjects, for in- stance, as " Idle Talking," " Curiosity," " Self-Praise," and the like. Others are on such grave topics as "The Benefits that a Man may derive from his Enemies," and " The Best Means of Self- Knowledge." There is iu all these treatises a large amount of blended common sense and keen ethical insight; and so little does human nature change with its surroundings that the greater part of Plutarch's cautions, counsels, and precepts are as closely ap- plicable to our own time as if they had been written yesterday. One of the most remarkable writings in this col- Introduction. xxiii lection is Plutarch's letter to his wife on the death of a daughter two years old, during his absence from home. It not only expresses sweetly and lovingly the topics of consolation which would most readily occur to a Christian father ; it gives us also a charm- ing picture of a household united by ties of spirit- ual affinity, and living in a purer, higher medium than that of affluence and luxury. A few sentences may convey something of the tone and spirit of this epistle. " Since our little daughter afforded us the sweetest and most charming pleasure, so ought we to cherish her memorj', which will conduce in many ways, or rather many fold, more to our joy than our grief" " They who were present at the funeral re- port this with admiration, that you neither put on mourning, nor disfigured yourself or any of your maids, neither were there any cpstly preparations nor magnificent pomp; but all things were man- aged with silence and moderation, in the presence of our relatives alone." " So long as she is gone to a place where she feels no pain, why should we grieve for her ? " " This is the most troublesome thing in old age, that it makes the soul weak in its remem- brance of divine things, and too earnest for things relating to the body." "But that which is taken away in youth, being more soft and tractable, soon returns to its native vigor and beauty." " It is good to pass the gates of death before too great a love of bodily and earthly things be engendered in the soul." " It is an impious thing to lament for those xxiv Introduction. whose souls pass immediately into a better and more divine state." " Wherefore let us comply with cus- tom in our outward and public behavior, and let our interior be more unpolluted, pure and holy." Now, when I remember that in the pre-Christian Greek and Eoman world the strongest utterances about immortality had been by Socrates, if Plato reported him aright, when he expressed strong hope of life beyond death, yet warned his friends not to be too confident about a matter so wrapped in un- certainty, — and by Cicero, who, when his daughter died, confessed that his reasonings had left no convic- tion in his own mind, — I cannot doubt that some Easter morning rays had pierced the dense Boeotian atmosphere, and that the risen Saviour had in that lovely Cheroneian household those whom he desig- nates as " other sheep, not of this fold." There is among the Moralia another letter of consolation, to ApoUonius on the death of his son, longer, more elaborate, and evidently intended as a literary composition, to be preserved with the au- thor's other works, which breathes tlie same spirit of submission and trust. Another of the Moralia, which has a special in- terest as regards the author's own family, is on the " Training of Children," — a series of counsels — including the careful heed of the parents to their own moral condition and habits — to which the ex- perience of these intervening centuries has little to add, while it could find nothing to take away. Introduction. xxv In one sense, the miscellanies brought together under the name of" Moralia " bear that title not inap- propriately ; for, as I have intimated, Plutarch could not but be didactic in whatever he wrote, and the ethical feeling, spirit, and purpose are perpetually, yet never ostentatiously or inappropriately, coming to the surface on all kinds of subjects. But there is a great deal in the collection not professedly or directly ethical. There are many scraps of history and biogi'aphy, and a very large number and variety of characteristic anecdotes, both of well-known per- sonages, and of others who are made known to us almost as vividly by a single trait, deed, or saying as if we had their entire life-record. There is an invaluable series of "Apophthegms" ^ of kings and great commanders,^ and another of "Laconic [or Spartan] Apophthegms," which are much more than their name implies, some of them being condensed memoirs. There are, also, several papers that give us more definite notions than can be found any- where else of the science and natural history of the author's time. Withal, we have here so many references to manners, customs, and habits, such pictures of home with all that could give it the sweetness and grace that belong to it, such views 1 'AT0 — so it is probable that the soul of every evil-doer discusses these things within itself, and considers how it can by any possibility evade the memory of its misdeeds, cast out from itself the consciousness of them, and, becoming pure, start as if from the beginning on a new life. For wickedness manifests neither courage, nor modesty, nor consistency, nor steadfastness in the objects of its preference, — un- less, by Zeus, we admit that evil-doers are wise; paid for, yet with few expressions of gratitude, he was wont tg say that his chest of money was full, the chest designed for thanks empty. ^ These verses are prohahly from a lost tragedy of Euripidqj. The myths about Ino are various, and mutually inconsistent. According to some she killed, according to others she endeavored to kill, the children of her husband, Athamas, by a former wife. Still others charge her with the murder of her own son or sons. She at length leaped into the sea, and emerged a goddess, under the name of Leucothea, — certainlj' a better name in heaven than she could have borne on earth. 32 Plutarch on the but where avarice, and eager voluptuousness, and implacable envy, are associated with malice and depravity, there also, on examination, you may see beneath the surface superstition, and effeminate indolence, and dread of death, and an abrupt vacil- lation of impulses, and an arrogant pretence to undeserved honor. Men of this character fear those who blame them, and at the same time dread chose who praise them, as those whom they have wronged by their hypocrisy, and as persons espe- cially hostile to the wicked, as is evinced in their cordial commendation of those who seem to be good. Indeed, the hardness in depravity, as in bad iron, is brittle, and what seems in it to have the great- est power of resistance is easily broken in pieces. Hence, in process of time, as bad men come to the knowledge of themselves, they are depressed, and grow peevish, and hold their own manner of life in abhorrence. When a mean man restores a deposit intrusted to his care, or gives security for a friend, or with honorable ambition confers gifts and ser- vices on his country, and immediately repents and is in trouble for what he has done, because of the utter instability and vacillation of his mind, — and 'when some who are applauded in the theatre for their generosity groan as their love of glory is merged in their love of money, — can it be that those who, like Apollodorus,^ sacrifice men in the ' Apollodorus is said to have 'bouiid his associates in some movement for his own aggrandizement by bringing them together Delay of the Divine Justice. 33 interest of their tyrannies and conspiracies, or like Glaucus/ the son of Epicydes, plunder the prop- erty of their friends, do not feel remorse, nor hate themselves, nor suffer grief, for the crimes that they have committed ? I, indeed, if it is not irreverent thus to speak, do not think that those who work iniquity need any avenger among gods or men ; but their own life suffices for their punishment, being utterly corrupted and kept in constant agi- tation by their guilt. 12. Consider now whether our discussion has exceeded a reasonable time. TiMON replied,^ — Perhaps so, with reference to the time that will yet be required ; for I am going to bring forward the last doubt as a combatant held in reserve, since the others have been fairly conquered. What Euripides with the utmost boldness of speech at a festival, and at its close giviag them evidence tliat they had been feeding on human victims. 1 Glaucus, a Lacedaemonian, had a high reputation for integ- rity, and on the ground of it received from a foreigner a deposit of a large sum of money. When the owner's sons claimed the deposit, he disclaimed all knowledge of it. But a threat of the Delphian oracle led him to make restitution afterward. Xev- ertheless the threat took effect, and he and his whole family perished. 2 In this section Timon seems to cite indiscriminately the cases of delayed or protracted punishment by men which are confessedly foolish or wicked, and alleged instances of delayed punishment on the part of the gods. The gravamen of the objection is, " How can that be just or right for the gods to do, which when men do they encounter either ridicule or condemnation ? " 3 34 Plutarch on the inveighs against the gods for doing, namely, visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children, account us as tacitly charging upon them. Certainly, if those who have done wrong were themselves pun- ished, there is no justice in chastising those who have done no wrong ; for it is not right to punish even the evil-doers in their own person twice for the same offence ; and if the gods, in their remiss- ness failing to punish the guilty, afterward inflict penalties on the innocent, they do not fittingly make amends for their slow doing by unrighteous doing. Take the case of Aesop.'' It is said that he came hither with money furnished by Croesus, in- tending to offer a magnificent sacrifice to the god of the temple, and to distribute among the citizens of Delphi four minas ^ apiece. But, as it is reported, having become disaffected toward the people here ^ That Aesop was killed by the Delphians for the cause here stated there seems to be no doubt ; nor yet that Idmon, a de- scendant of the man of the same name who had owned and emancipated Aesop, received a large sum of money from the Delphians by way of expiation for their crime, to which they had probably in the mean time ascribed every bad harvest and every epidemic. It must be remembei'ed that, before the rotation of crops became the habit of agriculturists, bad harvests were very frequent, and that, in the absence of sanitary rules and precau- tions, dangerous epidemics prevailed at short intervals in all the cities of the old world. It was not unnatural that these calami- ties should have been regarded as retributive judgments where a gross crime had been committed. 2 A mina was about the metallic equivaleut of twenty dol- lars, but of course with a much larger purchasing power. Delay of the Divine Justice. 35 on account of some affront or quarrel, he made the sacrifice indeed, but sent the rest of the money- back to Sardis, not thinking the men of Delphi worthy of the gift. They then raised against him the charge of sacrilege, and put him to death by throwing him from yonder cliff, which they call Hyampeia. From that time it is said that the god was angry with them, and made their soil un- fruitful, and sent among them all kinds of strange diseases, so thab they went round among the public assemblies of the Grecian cities, proclaiming with earnest entreaty that whoever would demand jus- tice of them in behalf of Aesop should receive fuU satisfaction. But not until the third generation came Idmon, the Samian, not related to Aesop, except as the descendant of those who had bought him at Samos, and to him the Delphians made satisfaction in the ways prescribed, and were freed from their calamities. It was on that account, it is said, that the people changed the place of pun- ishment for sacrilege from Hyampeia to the cliff called Nauplia. Now those who hold the memory of Alexander in the fondest regard, of whom I am one, do not approve of his sacking the city of Bran- chidae,^ and destroying its inhabitants of all ages, 1 A small town in Central Asia, built by the Branchidae, who were priests and custodians of the temple of Apollo Didymeus in an Ionian city bearing their name, near Miletus. The temple was burned by Darius, was rebuilt, and was burned again by Xerxes, on his retreat from Greece. The priests surrendered the treasures 36 Plutarch on the because their great-grandfathers had treacherously- delivered up the temple of Miletus. So Agatho- cles, the tyrant of Syracuse, derided and teased the Corcyraeans,^ when they asked him why he ravaged their island, saying, " By Zeus, because your fathers showed hospitality to Odysseus.'' Again, when the people of Ithaca complained that his soldiers were stealing their sheep, he replied, " Your king not only did the like, but put out the shepherd's ^ eye." But is not Apollo more unreasonable than these men whom I have named, if he is now ruining the Pheneatae by stopping up the outlet of their streams, and putting their whole country under water,^ be- cause Hercules is said a thousand years ago to have under their charge to Xerxes, followed him in his flight to escape punishment for sacrilege, and built the town which Alexander destroyed. His alleged motive for his cruel treatment of the Branchidae was revenge for the sacrilege and treason of their ancestors. 1 It was at Scheria, according to Homer, that Odysseus was kindly received by Nausicaa, entertained sumptuously by King Alcinous, her father, and provided with the ship on board of which he reached Ithaca. The inhabitants of Corcyra maintained that their island was the Homeric Scheria, which very probably never existed except in the poet's brain. ^ Polyphemus. ^ The territory of Phenens is so situated at the confluence of two mountain streams as to be of necessity liable to inundation. There was an old canal, said to have been constructed by Her- cules, and designed to carry off any abnormal excess of water ; but it had early become obstructed and useless, and Pliny says that there had been no less than five periods when the region had been entirely devastated by the overflow of the rivers. Delay of the Divine Justice. 37 stolen the oracular tripod and carried it to Pheneus ? And was he less unreasonable in announcing to the Sybarites that they should see the end of their calamities, when by three destructive visitations they should have appeased the wrath of the Leuca- dian Hera ? ^ ISTor is it so very long a time since the Locrians ceased sending virgins to Troy. " With naked limbs, tare feet, and servile guise, At early dawn they sweep Athene's temple, Unveiled, while age remorseless steals upon them." And all this because of the licentiousness of Ajax.^ Now where is the reasonableness or rightfulness of 1 There were three occasions on which the Sybarites incurred the special anger of Hera. Her statue was overturned iu some civic commotion. Afterward the people of Sybaris killed thirty members of a delegation from their neighbors of Crotona, and cast out their bodies to be devoured by wild beasts. On this occa- sion, the goddess was seen by night with an angry and threaten- ing mien. In the third place, a slave who had taken refuge at her altar, was pursued and scourged by his master, who held his father's tomb as so much more sacred than her temple that he ceased beating the slave when he sought refuge there. JSybaris is known to have been twice destroyed before Plutarch's time. There may have been a third destruction of which we have no record ; but there is nothing in the text to forbid our so constru- ing it as to leave the threat still hanging over the city, and the third destruction still impending. 2 The tradition was that Ajax was guilty of an outrage on Cassandra, the priestess of Athene. He on his return voyage was destroyed by shipwreck, and the Locrians were supposed to have suffered on account of his crime visitations of pestilence and other dire calamities. When they consulted the oracle, the reply was, that the guilt of Ajax could be expiated only by their sending annually to Troy, for a thousand years, two virgins to perform 38 Plutarch on the these things ? Equally little can we commend the Thracians ^ for still tattooing their wives, to avenge Orpheus ; or the barbarians about the Po, who wear black, as they say, in mourning for Phaethon, which seems all the more ridiculous when we con- sider that, while those who lived when Phaethon perished cared nothing at all about the matter, their posterity of the fifth or the tenth generation are changing their garments and mourning for him.^ Yet this is merely foolish, not atrocious or intolera- ble. But on what justifiable ground does the anger of the gods, suddenly disappearing, as some rivers do, break out again in a different place, on other people than the evil-doers, terminating only in ex- treme calamity ? 13. As soon as Timon came to a pause, fearing that with a fresh start he might bring forth more and greater absurdities, I instantly asked him, — Do you really think that all these things are true ? If not all, said he, yet if some of them be true, do you not think that the discussion labors under the same difficulty ? menial service in the temple of Athene. The hero, the crime, and the expiation are, more probably than not, all mythical. 1 The Thracian men were tattooed as well as the women, and it was probably for both men and women a preferred mode of ornament. 2 I can find nowhere else any reference to this observance ; but nothing is more probable than that Phaethon's name should have been attached to some religious anniversary in the region in which he was said to have perished. Delay of the Divine Justice. 39 Perhaps, said I ; and so to persons in a high fever, whether they chance to wear one garment, or to be wrapped in many, the burning heat is nearly or quite the same, and yet it contributes to their relief to remove the multitude of coverings. But if the patient is unwilling to have this done, let him have his own way. Yet most of these stories seem like myths and fictions. But recall to mind the religious festival lately held here, when you saw the magnificent portion of the A'iands^ which the heralds took from the table, proclaiming that it was due to the posterity of Pindar, and remember how soleum and sweet this token of honor seemed to you. But, said he, who would not be delighted by the gracefulness of a commemoration so entirely Gre- cian and so simply archaic ? unless he had, to bor- row Pindar's own words, a black heart forged in a cold fire. There is then no need, said I, of my citing a similar proclamation made in Sparta, "After the Lesbian singer," ^ in honor and remembrance of the 1 " Of tlie viands" is an interpolation of. my own. At a feast a, "portion" was "carried off'," and I know not what it could have been, if not a part of the food and wine on the table. If there were none of Pindar's posterity at hand to receive the por- tion, there were undoubtedly hungry officials ready in this be- half to represent them. 2 I suppose that the first place at a Spartan civic festival was formally assigned to Terpander, long dead, and that the most dis- tinguished living guest was made to regard himself as second in honor. 40 Plutarch on the ancient Terpander; for the principle is the same. But you,^ I suppose, think yourselves superior to other Boeotians, as being of the race of the Ophel- tiadae ; ^ you make similar claims among the Phocians ^ by virtue of your descent from Daiphan- tus;* and you, indeed, were the first to stand by me and help me in preserving for the Lycormaeans and the Satilaeans ^ their hereditary honor, and the right to wear crowns iu public which belongs to the posterity of Hercules, — maintaining that last- ing honors and favors are due to those descended from Hercules, because he, though a great benefac- tor to the Greeks, never received his due of grati- tude, or any fitting recompense. You remind us, said Timon, of a truly noble con- test, and of one in which it was especially becoming for a philosopher to take part. Eelax then, my friend, said I, the severity of your accusation, and do not take it so hard if some of the descendants of wicked and depraved people 1 'Tjuets. Plutarch is here addressing, not Timon alone, tut two or all three of his interlocutors. 2 Descendants of Opheltes. He came from Thessaly to Thehes, and brought with him a body of armed adherents. He founded a royal line in Boeotia. 2 Delphi being in Phocis, the claims on the score of Daiphantus would be availing in all processions and festivities connected with the temple service. * A victory that the Phocians under Daiphantus had gained five hundred years before was still celebrated in Plutarch's time. 6 I can find elsewhere no notice of these races, or families. Belay of the Divine Justice. 41 are punished ; or else do not welcome or eommeud the honor rendered to worthy parentage. For if we would retain the reward of virtue in the posterity of the virtuous, we cannot reasonably think that punishments for misdoings ought to fail and cease, but must suppose that they will run on at even pace with the rewards, giving retribution in each case in proportion to desert. But he who gladly sees the posterity of Cimon honored in Athens, yet is vexed and angry at the exile of the descendants of Lachares^ or of Ariston,^ is very stupid and feeble-minded, or rather has the presumption to take the place of a wrangler and railer against the Divine Being, — accusing him, forsooth, if the chil- dren's children of an unrighteous and wicked man seem to prosper, and again accusing him if the pos- terity of bad ancestors are suffered to decline and to become extinct, — indeed, finding equal fault with God when the children of a good father or those of a bad father fare ill. 14. Let these considerations serve you as de- fences against those who are so excessively bitter 1 Lachares was a demagogue who early iu the third century B. 0. obtained virtually supreme power in Athens, plundered the Parthenon, stripped the statue of Athene of its ornaments, com- mitted numerous acts of high-handed tyranny, and was finally expelled from the city on the charge of having taken measures for betraying it into the hands of Antiochus. ^ Ariston was an Epicurean philosopher, who raised himself to a virtual tyranny in Athens, but surrendered to Sulla when he besieged the city. 42 Plutarch on the and objurgatory. But taking up again the begin- ning of the thread in our discussion concerning God, ■ — obscure, indeed, and with many turnings and windings, — let us direct our way discreetly and deliberately toward what is probable and credible. For not even iu the things which we ourselves do can we always state with confidence the actual and true meaning. Thus we cannot tell why we order the children of those who die of phthisis or of dropsy to sit with their feet in water till the corpse is buried, though it is believed that in this case they neither contract the disease at the time nor are liable to it afterward. Nor, again, can we tell the reason why, when a goat takes into his mouth a piece of snakeroot,i the whole flock stand still tiU. the goatherd comes and takes it out of his mouth. There are properties of various objects that are transfused or transmitted in ways incredible as to velocity and distance. In these cases we are in- deed more surprised at remoteness of time than of space. Yet it is really more amazing that Athens should have been infected throughout with a pes- tilence ^ that began in Aethiopia, and that Pericles should have died of it, and Thucydides should have been attacked by it, than that, if the Delphians and the Sybarites have been wicked, protracted punish- 1 ^UpvyyiT-qv, eryngium, now the name of a genus containing several species of snakeroot. 2 The plague that raged in Athens early in the Peloponnesian ■war, of which Thucydides gives so remarkable an account. Belay of the Divine Justice. 43 ment should come upon their posterity. For all properties of objects have mutual action and re- action from their very beginning till now, and bear relations to one another of which, though we are ignorant of the cause, it none the less produces its appropriate effect. 15. Nevertheless, the public calamities of cities have obviously their reason in justice. For a city has unity and continuity like a living creature, not devesting itself of identity by the changes that occur at successive periods of its life, nor becoming a different being from its former self by the lapse of time, but always retaining a conscious selfhood with the peculiarities that belong to it, and receiv- ing the entire blame or praise of whatever it does or has done in its collective capacity, so long as the community which constitutes it and binds it to- gether remains a unit. But dividing it by succes- sive periods of time so as to make of a single city many cities, or rather an infinite number of cities, is like makiug of one man many men, because he is now elderly, yet once was younger, and still earlier was a mere stripling. This might remind one of the Epicharmians, from whom the sophists derived the cumulative argument,^ according to ^ Plutarch gives an early specimen of this argument in his life of Theseus : "The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned [from Crete] was preserved hy the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus ; for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting new and stronger timher in 44 Plutarch on the which he who used to be in debt now owes noth- ing, having become a different man, and he who was yesterday invited to supper to-day comes un- invited, being another person. However, different periods of life make greater changes in every one of us than they ordinarily make in cities. One who sees Athens would recognize it thirty years afterward; for the present manners, sports, indus- tries, likings, and resentments of the people closely resemble those of former days. But after a con- siderable time, scarce a kinsman oi* friend would recognize a man's countenance and form ; while the change of manners readily brought about in a per- son by differing fashions of intercourse, employ- ment, experience, and legal obligation look strange and new even to one who has always known him. But yet the man is said to be one and the same man from the beginning to the end. The city in like manner remaining the same, we regard it as involved in the disgrace of its ancestry by the very right by which it shares their glory and their power. Else we shall throw everything into the river of Hera- cleitus, into which, he says, no one can enter twice, because changing nature is transposing and altering all things. 16. But if a city is one continuous entity, equally their place, insomuch that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers for the logical question, as to things that grow ; one party holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same." Belay of the Divine Justice. 45 so is a race that springs from one original stock and carries along with it certain common tenden- cies derived from that stock; and that which is born is not, like a manufactured article, separated from him who produced it ; for it exists from him, not merely by him, so that it possesses and bears within itself some part of him, which is properly the object of chastisement or of commendation. Not in mere sport I would say that it was more unjust for the Athenians to destroy the brazen statue of Cassander,^ and for the people of Syracuse to cast beyond their borders the body of Dionysius,^ than for the posterity of those men to suffer punish- ment. For there was nothing of the nature of Cas- sander in the statue, and the soul of Dionysius had already left the corpse ; but in Nisaeus,^ and Apol- locrates,* and Antipater and Philip,^ and equally in 1 Athens had been under the government of men who had heen virtually Cassander's viceroys. The city after his death came under the rule of Demetrius Poliorcetes, and it was prob- ably by his order that the statue of Cassander was destroyed. 2 Dionysius the elder. * Nisaeus was the son of Dionysius the elder, and was sover- eign of Syracuse for a short time while his brother Dionysius the younger was in exile. Aelian names him in a chapter specially devoted to eminent