The _Lives_ has gone through numerous editions in all languages. Of the

_Morals_, the first translation in this country was made by Philemon

Holland, M.D., London, 1603 and 1657. The next English version was

published in 1684-1694, “by several hands.” The fifth edition, “revised

and corrected from the many errors of the former edition,” appeared

in 1718. The latest English version is that of Professor Goodwin, of

Harvard University (1870), with an introduction by R. W. Emerson. It

is, for the most part, a reprint of the revision of 1718, and consists

of five octavo volumes. It is a matter equally for surprise and

regret that, in an age of so much literary, or at least publishing,

enterprise, a judicious selection from the productions of so estimable

a mind has never yet been attempted in a form accessible to ordinary

readers.[43]

In his _Symposiacs_, discussing (_Quest._ ii.), “whether the sea

or land affords the better food,” and summing up the arguments, he

proceeds:--

“We can claim no great right over land animals which are nourished

with the same food, inspire the same air, wash in and drink the

same water that we do ourselves; and when they are slaughtered

they make us ashamed of our work by their terrible cries; and

then, again, by living amongst us they arrive at some degree of

familiarity and intimacy with us. But sea creatures are altogether

strangers to us, and are brought up, as it were, in another world.

Neither does their voice, look, or any service they have done us

plead for their life. This kind of animals are of no use at all to

us, nor is there any obligation upon us that we should love them.

The element we inhabit is a hell to them, and as soon as ever they

enter upon it they die.”

We may infer that Plutarch advanced gradually to the perfect knowledge

of the truth, and it is probable that his essay on _Flesh-eating_

was published at a comparatively late period in his life, since in

some of his miscellaneous writings, in alluding to the subject,

he speaks in less decided and emphatic terms of its barbarism and

inhumanity: _e.g._, in his _Rules for the Preservation of Health_,

while recommending moderation in eating, and professing abstinence from

flesh, he does not so expressly denounce the prevalent practice. Yet he

is sufficiently pronounced even here in favour of the reformed diet on

the score of health:--

“Ill-digestion,” says he, “is most to be feared after flesh-eating,

for it very soon clogs us and leaves ill consequences behind it. It

would be best to accustom oneself _to eat no flesh at all_, for the

earth affords plenty enough of things fit not only for nourishment

but for delight and enjoyment; some of which you may eat without

much preparation, and others you may make pleasant by adding

various other things.”

That the non-Christian humanitarian of the first century was far

ahead--we will not say of his contemporaries, but of the common crowd

of writers and speakers of the present age in his estimate of the

just rights and position of the innocent non-human races--will be

sufficiently apparent from the following extract from his remarkable

essay entitled, _That the Lower Animals Reason_, to which Montaigne

seems to have been indebted. The essay is in the form of a dialogue

between Odysseus (Ulysses) and Gryllus, who is one of the transformed

captives of the sorceress Circe (see _Odyssey_ ix.) Gryllus maintains

the superiority of the non-human races generally in very many

qualities and in regard to many of their habits--_e.g._, in eating and

drinking:--

“Being thus wicked and incontinent in inordinate desires, it is no

less easy to be proved that men are more intemperate than other

animals even in those things which are necessary--_e.g._, in eating

and drinking--the pleasures of which we [the non-human races]

always enjoy with some benefit to ourselves. But you, pursuing

the pleasures of eating and drinking beyond the satisfaction of

nature, are punished with many and lingering diseases[44] which,

arising from the single fountain of superfluous gormandising,

fill your bodies with all manner of wind and vapours not easy for

purgation to expel. In the first place, all species of the lower

animals, according to their kind, feed upon one sort of food which

is proper to their natures--some upon grass, some upon roots,

and others upon fruits. Neither do they rob the weaker of their

nourishment. But man, such is his voracity, _falls upon all_ to

satisfy the pleasures of his appetite, tries all things, tastes all

things; and, as if he were yet to seek what was the most proper

diet and most agreeable to his nature, among all animals is the

only _all-devourer_.[45] He makes use of flesh _not out of want

and necessity_, seeing that he has the liberty to make his choice

of herbs and fruits, the plenty of which is inexhaustible; but

out of luxury and being cloyed with necessaries, he seeks after

impure and inconvenient diet, purchased by the slaughter of living

beings; by this showing himself more cruel than the most savage of

wild beasts. For blood, murder, and flesh are proper to nourish

the kite, the wolf, and the serpent: _to men they are superfluous

viands_. The lower animals abstain from most of other kinds and are

at enmity with only a few, and that only compelled by necessities

of hunger; but neither fish, nor fowl, nor anything that lives upon

the land escapes your tables, though they bear the name of humane

and _hospitable_.”

Reprobating the harshness and inhumanity of Cato the Censor, who is

usually regarded as the type of old Roman virtue, Plutarch, with his

accustomed good feeling, declares:--

“For my part, I cannot but charge his using his servants like

so many horses and oxen, or turning them off or selling them

when grown old, to the account of a mean and ungenerous spirit,

which thinks that the sole tie between man and man is interest or

necessity. But goodness moves in a larger sphere than [so-called]

justice. The obligations of law and equity reach only to mankind,

but kindness and beneficence should be extended to beings of every

species. And these always flow from the breast of a well-natured

man, as streams that flow from the living fountain.

A good man will take care of his horses and dogs, not only while

they are young, but when old and past service. Thus the people of

Athens, when they had finished the temple of _Hecatompedon_, set at

liberty the lower animals that had been chiefly employed in that

work, suffering them to pasture at large, free from any further

service.... We certainly ought not to treat living beings like

shoes or household goods, which, when worn out with use, we throw

away; and _were it only to learn benevolence to human kind_, we

should be compassionate to other beings. For my own part, I would

not sell even an old ox that had laboured for me; much less would

I remove, for the sake of a little money, a man, grown old in my

service, from his accustomed place--for to him, poor man, it would

be as bad as banishment, since he could be of no more use to the

buyer than he was to the seller. But Cato, as if he took a pride

in these things, tells us that, when Consul, he left his war-horse

in Spain, to save the public the charge of his freight. Whether

such things as these are instances of greatness or of littleness of

soul, let the reader judge for himself.”[46]

If we shall compare these sentiments of the pagan humanitarian with the

every-day practices of modern christian society in the matter, _e.g._,

of “knackers’ yards,” and other similar methods of getting rid of dumb

dependants after a life-time of continuous hard labour--perhaps of bad

usage, and even semi-starvation--the comparison scarcely will be in

favour of christian ethics. From the essay _On Flesh-Eating_ we extract

the principal and most significant passages:--

PLUTARCH--ESSAY ON FLESH-EATING.

“You ask me upon what grounds Pythagoras abstained from feeding

on the flesh of animals. I, for my part, marvel of what sort of

feeling, mind, or reason, that man was possessed who was the first

to pollute his mouth with gore, and to allow his lips to touch the

flesh of a murdered being: who spread his table with the mangled

forms of dead bodies, and claimed as his daily food what were but

now beings endowed with movement, with perception, and with voice.

“How could his eyes endure the spectacle of the flayed and

dismembered limbs? How could his sense of smell endure the horrid

_effluvium_? How, I ask, was his taste not sickened by contact with

festering wounds, with the pollution of corrupted blood and juices?

‘The very hides began to creep, and the flesh, both roast and

raw, groaned on the spits, and the slaughtered oxen were endowed,

as it might seem, with human voice.’[47] This is poetic fiction;

but the actual feast of ordinary life is, of a truth, a veritable

portent--that a human being should hunger after the flesh of oxen

actually bellowing before him, and teach upon what parts one should

feast, and lay down elaborate rules about joints and roastings and

dishes. The first man who set the example of this savagery is the

person to arraign; not, assuredly, that great mind which, in a

later age, determined to have nothing to do with such horrors.

“For the wretches who first applied to flesh-eating may justly be

alleged in excuse their utter resourcelessness and destitution,

inasmuch as it was not to indulge in lawless desires, or amidst the

superfluities of necessaries, for the pleasure of wanton indulgence

in unnatural luxuries that they [the primeval peoples] betook

themselves to carnivorous habits.

“If _they_ could now assume consciousness and speech they might

exclaim, ‘O blest and God-loved men who live at this day! What a

happy age in the world’s history has fallen to _your_ lot, you who

plant and reap an inheritance of all good things which grow for

you in ungrudging abundance! What rich harvests do you not gather

in? What wealth from the plains, what innocent pleasures is it not

in your power to reap from the rich vegetation surrounding you on

all sides! _You_ may indulge in luxurious food without staining

your hands with innocent blood. While as for us wretches, _our_

lot was cast in an age of the world the most savage and frightful

conceivable. _We_ were plunged into the midst of an all-prevailing

and fatal want of the commonest necessaries of life from the period

of the earth’s first genesis, while yet the gross atmosphere of the

globe hid the cheerful heavens from view, while the stars were yet

wrapped in a dense and gloomy mist of fiery vapours, and the sun

[earth] itself had no firm and regular course. Our globe was then

a savage and uncultivated wilderness, perpetually overwhelmed with

the floods of the disorderly rivers, abounding in shapeless and

impenetrable morasses and forests. Not for us the gathering in of

domesticated fruits; no mechanical instrument of any kind wherewith

to fight against nature. Famines gave us no time, nor could there

be any periods of seed-time and harvest.

“‘What wonder, then, if, contrary to nature, we had recourse to the

flesh of living beings, when all our other means of subsistence

consisted in wild corn [or a sort of grass--ἄγρωστιν], and the

bark of trees, and even slimy mud, and when we deemed ourselves

fortunate to find some chance wild root or herb? When we tasted

an acorn or beech-nut we danced with grateful joy around the

tree, hailing it as our bounteous mother and nurse. Such was the

gala-feast of those primeval days, when the whole earth was one

universal scene of passion and violence, engendered by the struggle

for the very means of existence.

“‘But what struggle for existence, or what goading madness has

incited _you_ to imbrue your hands in blood--you who have, we

repeat, a superabundance of all the necessaries and comforts of

existence? Why do you belie the Earth [τὶ καταψεύοεσθε τῆς Γῆς]

as though it were unable to feed and nourish you? Why do you

do despite to the bounteous [goddess] Ceres, and blaspheme the

sweet and mellow gifts of Bacchus, as though you received not a

sufficiency from them?

“‘Does it not shame you to mingle murder and blood with their

beneficent fruits? Other _carnivora_ you call savage and

ferocious--lions and tigers and serpents--while yourselves come

behind them in no species of barbarity. And yet for them murder is

the only means of sustenance; whereas to you it is a superfluous

luxury and crime.’

“For, in point of fact, we do not kill and eat lions and wolves,

as we might do in self-defence--on the contrary, we leave them

unmolested; and yet the innocent and the domesticated and helpless

and unprovided with weapons of offence--these we hunt and kill,

whom Nature seems to have brought into existence for their beauty

and gracefulness....

“Nothing puts us out of countenance [δυσωπεῖ], not the charming

beauty of their form, not the plaintive sweetness of their voice

or cry, not their mental intelligence [πανουργία ψυχῆς], not

the purity of their diet, not superiority of understanding. For

the sake of a part of their flesh only, we deprive them of the

glorious light of the sun--of the life for which they were born.

The plaintive cries they utter we affect to take to be meaningless;

whereas, in fact, they are entreaties and supplications and prayers

addressed to us by each which say, ‘It is not the satisfaction

of your real necessities we deprecate, but the wanton indulgence

[ὕβριν] of your appetites. Kill to eat, if you must or will, but do

not slay me that you may feed _luxuriously_.’

“Alas for our savage inhumanity! It is a terrible thing to see

the table of rich men decked out by those layers out of corpses

[νεκρόκοσμους], the butchers and cooks: a still more terrible sight

is the same table _after_ the feast--for the wasted relics are even

more than the consumption. These victims, then, have given up their

lives uselessly. At other times, from mere niggardliness, the host

will grudge to distribute his dishes, and yet he grudged not to

deprive innocent beings of their existence!

“Well, I have taken away the excuse of those who allege that they

have the authority and sanction of Nature. For that man is not,

by nature, carnivorous is proved, in the first place, by the

external frame of his body--seeing that to none of the animals

designed for living on flesh has the human body any resemblance. He

has no curved beak, no sharp talons and claws, no pointed teeth,

no intense power of stomach [κοιλίας εὐτονία] or heat of blood

which might help him to masticate and digest the gross and tough

flesh-substance. On the contrary, by the smoothness of his teeth,

the small capacity of his mouth, the softness of his tongue, and

the sluggishness of his digestive apparatus, Nature sternly forbids

him [ἐξομνύται] to feed on flesh.

“If, in spite of all this, you still affirm that you were intended

by nature for such a diet, then, to begin with, kill _yourself_

what you wish to eat--but do it yourself with your own _natural_

weapons, without the use of butcher’s knife, or axe, or club. No;

as the wolves and lions and bears themselves slay all they feed on,

so, in like manner, do you kill the cow or ox with a gripe of your

jaws, or the pig with your teeth, or a hare or a lamb by falling

upon and rending them there and then. Having gone through all these

preliminaries, _then_ sit down to your repast. If, however, you

wait until the living and intelligent existence be deprived of

life, and if it would disgust you to have to rend out the heart and

shed the life-blood of your victim, why, I ask, in the very face

of Nature, and in despite of her, do you feed on beings endowed

with sentient life? But more than this--not even, after your

victims have been killed, will you eat them just as they are from

the slaughter-house. You boil, roast, and altogether metamorphose

them by fire and condiments. You entirely alter and disguise the

murdered animal by the use of ten thousand sweet herbs and spices,

that your natural taste may be deceived and be prepared to take the

unnatural food. A proper and witty rebuke was that of the Spartan

who bought a fish and gave it to his cook to dress. When the latter

asked for butter, and olive oil, and vinegar, he replied, ‘Why, if

I had all these things, I should not have bought the fish!’

“To such a degree do we make luxuries of bloodshed, that we call

flesh ‘a delicacy,’ and forthwith require delicate sauces [ὄψων]

for this same flesh-meat, and mix together oil and wine and honey

and pickle and vinegar with all the spices of Syria and Arabia--for

all the world as though we were embalming a human corpse. After all

these heterogeneous matters have been mixed and dissolved and, in

a manner, corrupted, it is for the stomach, forsooth, to masticate

and assimilate them--if it can. And though this may be, for the

time, accomplished, the natural sequence is a variety of diseases,

produced by imperfect digestion and repletion.[48]

“Diogenes (the Cynic) had the courage, on one occasion, to swallow

a _polypus_ without any cooking preparation, to dispense with the

time and trouble expended in the kitchen. In the presence of a

numerous concourse of priests and others, unwrapping the morsel

from his tattered cloak, and putting it to his lips, ‘For your

sakes,’ cried he, ‘I perform this extravagant action and incur this

danger.’ A self-sacrifice truly meritorious! Not like Pelopidas,

for the freedom of Thebes, or like Harmodius and Aristogeiton,

on behalf of the citizens of Athens, did the philosopher submit

to this hazardous experiments; for _he_ acted thus that he might

_unbarbarise_, if possible, the life of human kind.

“Flesh-eating is not unnatural to our physical constitution only.

The mind and intellect are made gross by gorging and repletion;

for flesh-meat and wine may possibly tend to give robustness

to the body, but it gives only feebleness to the mind. Not to

incur the resentment of the prize-fighters [the _athletes_], I

will avail myself of examples nearer home. The wits of Athens,

it is well known, bestow on us Bœotians the epithets ‘gross,’

‘dull-brained,’ and ‘stupid,’ chiefly on account of our gross

feeding. We are even called ‘hogs.’ Menander nicknames us the

‘jaw-people’ [οἱ γνάθους ἔχοντες]. Pindar has it that ‘mind is a

very secondary consideration with them.’ ‘A fine understanding of

clouded brilliancy’ is the ironical phrase of Herakleitus....

“Besides and beyond all these reasons, does it not seem admirable

to foster habits of philanthropy? Who that is so kindly and gently

disposed towards beings of another species would ever be inclined

to do injury to his own kind? I remember in conversation hearing,

as a saying of Xenokrates, that the Athenians imposed a penalty

upon a man for flaying a sheep alive, and he who tortures a living

being is little worse (it seems to me) than he who needlessly

deprives of life and murders outright. We have, it appears, clearer

perceptions of what is contrary to propriety and custom than of

what is contrary to nature....

“Reason proves both by our thoughts and our desires that we are

(comparatively) new to the reeking feasts [ἕωλα] of kreophagy. Yet

it is hard, as says Cato, to argue with stomachs since they have

no ears; and the inebriating potion of Custom[49] has been drunk,

like Circe’s, with all its deceptions and witcheries. Now that men

are saturated and penetrated, as it were, with love of pleasure,

it is not an easy task to attempt to pluck out from their bodies

the flesh-baited hook. Well would it be if, as the people of Egypt

turning their back to the pure light of day disembowelled their

dead and cast away the offal, as the very source and origin of

their sins, we, too, in like manner, were to eradicate bloodshed

and gluttony from ourselves and purify the remainder of our lives.

If the irreproachable diet be impossible to any by reason of

inveterate habit, at least let them devour their flesh as driven

to it by hunger, not in luxurious wantonness, but with feelings of

shame. Slay your victim, but at least do so with feelings of pity

and pain, not with callous heedlessness and with torture. And yet

that is what is done in a variety of ways.

“In slaughtering swine, for example, they thrust red-hot irons into

their living bodies, so that, by sucking up or diffusing the blood,

they may render the flesh soft and tender. Some butchers jump upon

or kick the udders of pregnant sows, that by mingling the blood and

milk and matter of the _embryos_ that have been murdered together

in the very pangs of parturition, they may enjoy the pleasure of

feeding upon unnaturally and highly inflamed flesh![50] Again, it

is a common practice to stitch up the eyes of cranes and swans, and

shut them up in dark places to fatten. In this and other similar

ways are manufactured their dainty dishes, with all the varieties

of sauces and spices [καρυκείαις--Lydian sauces, composed of blood

and spices]--from all which it is sufficiently evident that men

have indulged their lawless appetites in the pleasures of luxury,

not for necessary food, and from no necessity, but only out of the

merest wantonness, and gluttony, and display....”[51]

Among the illustrious earlier contemporaries of Plutarch who practised

no less than preached rigid abstinence, Apollonius of Tyana, the

Pythagorean, one of the most extraordinary men of any age, deserves

particular notice. He came into the world in the same year with the

founder of Christianity, B.C. 4. The facts and fictions of his life we

owe to Philostratus, who wrote his memoirs at the express desire of the

Empress Julia Domna, the wife of Severus.

Apollonius, according to his biographer, came of noble ancestry. He

early applied himself to severe study at the ever memorable Tarsus,

where he may have known the great persecutor, and afterwards second

founder, of Christianity. Disgusted with the luxury of the people, he

soon exiled himself to a more congenial atmosphere, and applied himself

to the examination of the various schools of philosophy--the Epicurean,

the Stoic, the Peripatetic, &c.--finally giving the preference to the

Pythagorean. He embraced the strictest ascetic life, and travelled

extensively, visiting, in the first instance, Nineveh, Babylon, and, it

is said, India, and afterwards Greece, Italy, Spain, and Roman Africa

and Ethiopia. At the accession of Domitian, he narrowly escaped from

the hands of that tyrant, after having voluntarily given himself up

to his tribunal, by an exertion of his reputed supernatural power. He

passed the last years of his life at Ephesus, where, according to the

well-known story, he is said to have announced the death of Domitian

at the very moment of the event at Rome. His alleged miracles were so

celebrated, and so curiously resemble the Christian miracles, that they

have excited an unusual amount of attention.[52]

Unfortunately, the life by Philostratus, in accordance with the taste

of a necessarily uncritical age, is so full of the preternatural and

marvellous that the real fact that the pythagorean philosopher had

acquired and possessed extraordinary mental as well as moral faculties,

which might well be deemed supernatural at that period, is too apt to

be discredited. The Life was composed long after the death of the hero,

and thus a considerable amount of inventive license was possible to the

biographer; but that it rested upon an undoubted substratum of actual

occurrences will scarcely be disputed. There is one passage which

deserves to be transcribed as of wider application. The people of a

town in Pamphylia (in the Lesser Asia), where the great Thaumaturgist

chanced to be staying, were starving in the midst of plenty by the

selfish policy of the monopolists of grain, and, driven to desperation,

were on the point of attacking the responsible authorities. Apollonius,

at this crisis, wrote the following address, and gave it to the

magistrates to read aloud:--

“Apollonius to the Monopolists of Corn in Aspendos, greeting: The

Earth is the common mother of all, for she is just.[53] You are

unjust, for you have made her the mother of _yourselves only_.

If you will not cease from acting thus, I will not suffer you to

remain upon her.”

Philostratus assures us that “intimidated by these indignant words they

filled the market with grain, and the city recovered from its distress.”

VII.

TERTULLIAN. 160-240 (?) A.D.

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