_Plutarch’s attitude towards Pagan beliefs marked by a
spirit of reverent rationalism—The three recognized sources
of Religion: Poetry, Philosophy, and Law or Custom—The
contribution of each to be examined by Reason with the
object of avoiding both Superstition and Atheism: Reason the
“Mystagogue” of Religion—Provisional examples of Plutarch’s
method in the three spheres—His reluctance to press rationalism
too far—His piety partly explained by his recognition of the
divine mission of Rome—Absence of dogmatism in his teaching._
The question which meets us on the very threshold of an inquiry into
the religious views and moral teachings of Plutarch is that involved in
a definition of his attitude towards the popular faith. His desire to
form a consistent body of doctrine out of its heterogeneous and chaotic
elements is not so intense as to blind him to the difficulties of the
task. Poets, legislators, and philosophers have jointly contributed to
the formation of the “ancient and hereditary Faith,” and Philosophy, Law,
and Poetry, avoid reconciliation to as great a degree as, in the days of
Solon, the famous Attic factions of the Paraloi, the Epakrioi, and the
Pedieis, to the pacification of whose internecine animosities the policy
of that statesman was directed. The gods of the philosophers are like the
Immortals of Pindar:—
“Not death they know, nor age, nor toil and pain,
And hear not Acheron’s deep and solemn strain.”[133]
Philosophy, too, rejects the Strifes, the Prayers, the Terrors, and
the Fears, which Homeric poesy elevates to the divine rank.[134] Its
teachings, moreover, are often at variance with religious practices
established or recognized by Law and Prescription, as when Xenophanes
chid the Egyptians for lamenting Osiris as a mortal, while yet
worshipping him as a god. Poets and legislators, in their turn, refuse
to recognize the metaphysical conceptions—“Ideas, Numbers, Unities,
Spirits”—which philosophers—Platonists, Pythagoreans, and Stoics—have
put in the place of Deity.[135] This clashing of discordant elements in
the mass of the popular tradition is audible in Plutarch’s exposition
of his own views; a fact which is less to be wondered at when we accept
the hint furnished in the allusion to Osiris just quoted, and note
that Plutarch will not confine his efforts, as “arbitrator between
the three Factions which dispute about the nature of the Gods,” to
the sphere of Græco-Roman Mythology.[136] But although he will sit in
turn at the feet of poets, philosophers, and legislators, borrowing,
from Science, Custom, Tradition alike, any teaching which promises
ethical usefulness, he frequently insists, both in general terms and in
particular discussions on points of practical morals, that Reason must
be the final judge of what is worthy of selection as the basis of moral
action. Philosophy, in his beautiful metaphor, so full of solemn meaning
to a Greek ear, must be our Mystagogue to Theology: we must borrow
Reason from Philosophy, and take her as our guide to the mysteries of
Religion, reverently submitting every detail of creed or practice to her
authority.[137] We shall then avoid the charge that we take with our
left hand what our teachers—our legislative, mythological, philosophic
instructors—have offered with their right. The selecting and controlling
power of Reason, applied to philosophical discussions, will enable us to
attain to a becoming conception of the nature of the Deity; applied to
the matter of Mythology, it will enable us to reject the narratives, at
once discreditable and impossible, which have become current respecting
the traditional gods; and, in the sphere of Law and Custom, it will
enable us correctly to interpret the legal ordinances and established
rules connected with sacrifices and other religious celebrations.
The assumption which inspires all Plutarch’s arguments on matters of
Religion is that these three sources supply a rational basis for belief
and conduct: but that superstition on the one hand, and atheistic
misrepresentation on the other, have done so much to obscure the true
principles of belief that Philosophy must analyse the whole material over
again, and dissociate the rational and the pure from crude exaggerations
and unintelligent accretions.[138] It must be admitted that he applies
no definite rules of criticism, constructs no scientifically exact
system of analysis, propounds no infallible dogmas. His canon is the
general taste and good sense of the educated man; a canon which, vague
as it may seem, is based upon an intelligent knowledge of the practical
needs of life, and produces results which are applicable in a remarkable
degree to the satisfaction of such needs. As provisional illustrations
of Plutarch’s method in the three spheres of Philosophy, Mythology, and
National Custom, we may note the discussion on the nature of God in the
“De Ε apud Delphos,” the criticism of the great national poets of Greece
in the “Quomodo adolescens poetas audire debeat,” and the remarks in
the “De Iside et Osiride” concerning certain religious practices in the
worship of these two Egyptian deities.
In the first-named tract the ostensible subjects of discussion are the
nature and attributes of Apollo; but it soon becomes quite clear that the
argument is concerned with the nature of Deity itself rather than with
the functions of the traditional god. “We constantly hear theologians
asserting and repeating in verse and in prose that the nature of God
is eternal and incorruptible, but that this nature, by the operation
of an intelligent and inevitable law, effects certain changes in its
own form. At one time God reduces all nature to uniformity by changing
His substance to fire; and, again, in a great variety of ways, under
many forms, enters into the phenomenal world.[139] ... Philosophers,
in their desire to conceal these high matters from the common herd,
call God’s transmutation into fire by two names—Apollo, to express His
unity; Phœbus, to describe His clear-shining purity. To denote God’s
suffering the change of His nature into air and water and earth and
stars, and the various species of plants and animals, they figuratively
tell of ‘tearings asunder’ and ‘dismemberings,’ and in these aspects He
is variously called Dionysus, Zagræus, Nyktelius, and Isodaites, and His
‘destructions’ and ‘disappearances,’ His ‘death’ and His ‘resurrection,’
are inventions, enigmas, and myths, fittingly expressing, for the general
ear, the true nature of the changes in God’s essence in the formation of
the world.”[140] Plutarch here represents himself as the speaker; and
while Ammonius, who was Plutarch’s master,[141] and is always spoken
of by him with the greatest reverence, is subsequently introduced as
taking a different view of the processes by which God produced the world
of phenomena, yet neither does he depart from the rational standpoint
in his view of the terms under discussion.[142] In allusion to these
terms, as explained by Plutarch from the Stoical view of the Divine
Nature,[143] he says, “Surely God would be a less dignified figure than
the child in the poem,[144] since the pastime which the child plays with
mere sand, building castles to throw them down again, God would thus be
ever playing with the universe. On the contrary, God has mysteriously
cemented the universe together, overcoming that natural weakness in it
which tends perpetually to annihilation. It is the function of some
other god, or, rather, of some dæmon, appointed to direct nature in
the processes of generation and destruction, to do and suffer these
changes.” In both these views the literal acceptation of the mythological
names is repudiated, and the two differ only in that the Stoics quoted
in Plutarch’s speech make the Supreme Ruler modify His essence to the
production of phenomena, while Ammonius relegates that function to
a subordinate power; keeping his Platonic Demiurgus pure from these
undignified metamorphoses. It will subsequently appear, when we come
to deal with the Dæmonology of Plutarch, that the latter view is the
one he also actually accepted. The discussion, at any rate, furnishes
a capital instance of what Plutarch means by his assertion that Reason
must be Mystagogue to Theology. Mythological terms must be examined by
Reason before their meaning can be accepted as an element in religious
teaching. The particular view taken of the expressions is left to the
taste or philosophic bent of the individual critic: to Academic or Stoic
reasonings; the only essential is that the crude literal meaning of the
terms shall be repudiated as discordant with a rational estimate of the
Divine Nature.[145]
In the critical essay, “Quomodo adolescens poetas audire debeat,” the
same method is applied to the whole religious and moral teaching of the
national poets. However great Plutarch’s admiration for Plato as man and
philosopher may be, his sound sense of what is practicable in common life
prevents him from subjecting the ancient poetry of Greece, as an element
in ethical culture, to the impossible standard of the “Republic,” and
he therefore, on this question, opposes Stoic and Peripatetic wisdom to
the teaching of a Master with whose sublime views he often finds himself
in agreement.[146] Throughout the whole work he applies the touchstone
of common sense to all the beauties and all the barbarities of the
traditional legends as embodied in Epic and Tragic poetry. Reason and
common sense admit the high value of imaginative literature in ethical
education, and reason and common sense decide what practical advice shall
be given to youthful students of fiction, in order that moral lessons
may be driven home, immoral incidents, descriptions, and characters
made harmless, or even beneficial, while, at the same time, even purely
æsthetic considerations are not neglected.
At the commencement of the “De Iside et Osiride” Plutarch deals fully
with numerous examples of religious practices coming under his third
description of the sources of religious belief, that, namely, of Law
or established Custom. He discusses their meaning in the light of a
principle which he states as follows:—“In the religious institutions
(connected with the worship of Isis and Osiris) nothing has become
established which, however it may appear irrational, mythical,
superstitious, has not some moral or salutary reason, or some ingenious
historical or physical explanation.”[147] He is not always successful
in his search after a moral meaning, or even an ingenious historical
or physical explanation, in the customs which he subjects to analysis.
The rational attitude, however, is unmistakable, and these introductory
remarks, personal as they may be to the priestess Clea, and detached from
the main body of the work, yet stand in a true harmony with what we shall
hereafter see to be its essential purpose, to show, namely, that while
Philosophy can grasp the Highest without the intervention of myth or
institution, it can also aid a pure conception of the Highest by studying
the myths and institutions which foreign peoples have discovered and
created as intermediaries betwixt themselves and the Highest.
But in spite of the important part thus assigned to Reason in settling
disputed matters of faith, and arbitrating on points of national and
individual ethics, Plutarch makes it clear that Piety and Patriotism
have claims in this matter which are actually enforced by Reason in her
selecting and purifying _rôle_. If he had seen, as his age could not see,
and as we can see, that Reason can only be the Mystagogue to Religion
in a very limited degree, he would probably have been patriot first and
philosopher afterwards, or would, perhaps, have accepted the compromise
of Cotta, and played each part in turn as public or private necessities
dictated. But the crux does not arise, and Plutarch’s position never
really has the inconsistency which, carelessly considered, it appears
to have, because he is honestly convinced that what Reason rejects in
the national faith, it is good for the national faith that it should
be deprived of. Hence it is possible to give examples of Plutarch’s
views in this direction without assuming that he forgot what prospect
lay in exactly the opposite direction. Hence he can quote Ammonius as
beautifully tender in his expressions towards those who are bound up in
the literal realisms of the Hellenic faith. “Yet must we extend gratitude
and love to those who believe that Apollo and the Sun are the same,
because they attach their idea of God to that which they most honour and
desire of anything they know. They now see the God as in a most beautiful
dream: let us awaken them and summon them to take an upward flight, so
that they may behold his real vision and his essence, though still they
may revere his type, the Sun, and worship the life-giving principle in
that type; which, so far as can be done by a perceptible object on behalf
of an invisible essence, by a transient image on behalf of an eternal
original, scatters with mysterious splendour through the universe some
radiance of the grace and glory that abide in His presence.”[148] Not
only through the dramatic medium of another personality, but also when
speaking his own thought directly, Plutarch alludes with a sincere and
touching sympathy to the duties and practices of the ancient faith.
The first hint of consolation conveyed to his friend Apollonius on the
death of his son is given in words which feelingly depict the youth as
embodying the ancient Hellenic ideals in his attitude towards the gods,
and his conduct towards his parents and friends.[149] The converse of
this attitude is indicated in many passages where he deprecates a too
inquisitive bearing in the face of questions naturally involved in the
doubt clouding many ancient traditions of a religious character. The
great discussion on “The Cessation of the Oracles” commences with a
reproof directed at those who “would test an ancient religious tradition
like a painting, by the touch” and in the “Amatorius” full play is
allowed to the exposition of a similar view, a view, indeed, which
dominates the whole of this fascinating dialogue. Pemptides, one of the
speakers, who rails lightly at love as a disease, is willing to learn
what was in the minds of those who first proclaimed that passion as a
god. He is answered by the most important speaker in the conversation,
a speaker whose name is not given in the report, which is represented
as furnished by one of this speaker’s sons from their father’s account.
“Our father, addressing Pemptides by name, said, ‘You are, in my opinion,
commencing with great rashness to discuss matters which ought not to be
discussed at all, when you ask a reason for every detail of our belief
in the gods. _Our ancient hereditary faith is sufficient, and a better
argument than this could not be discovered or described._ But if this
foundation and support of all piety be shaken, and its stability and the
honoured beliefs that cling to it be disturbed, it will be undermined and
no one will regard it as secure. And if you demand proofs about every
one of the gods, laying a profane hand on every temple, and bringing
sophistical smartness to bear on every shrine, nothing will be safe from
your peering eyes and prying fingers. What an abyss of Atheism opens
beneath us, if we resolve every deity into a passion, a power, or a
virtuous activity!’”[150] This is, of course, an extreme conventional
view, but the fact, that it is put so fully, at least argues Plutarch’s
sympathy with it, though he would not, in his own person, have pinned
himself down to so unqualified an expression of it. It will be noted that
in this part of the dialogue the gods only are under discussion, whereas
in regard to tradition on other elements in the ancient faith the same
speaker subsequently represents himself as neither altogether a believer
nor a disbeliever, and he proceeds to search, in Plutarch’s own special
way, for “faint and dim emanations of truth dispersed about among the
mythologies of the Egyptians.”[151] Plutarch’s lofty idea of the passion
of Love may have induced him in this, as his strenuous moral aim did
in so many other instances, to emphasize for the moment any particular
aspect of the ancient faith which appeared likely to furnish inspiration
to the realization of noble ethical ideals. He is anxious, at all
events, that his purely rational arguments shall not carry him too far,
as, on one occasion, after a long disquisition, the undoubted purport
of which is to refer oracular inspiration to subterraneous fumes and
exhalations, or, as one of the speakers says, “to accident and natural
means,” Plutarch (“Lamprias” here is clearly a thin disguise of Plutarch
himself) is disturbed and confused that he should be thought desirous of
refuting any “true and religious” opinions recognized with respect to the
Deity; and he forthwith proceeds to prove that it is quite possible to
investigate natural phenomena for secondary causes, while recognizing a
final cause in the creative Deity.[152] Not only does Plutarch sympathize
with those who accept with pious simplicity the tenets of the “ancient
and hereditary Faith;” not only does he deprecate too severe a handling
of religious questions; but he is also eager to support his view of a
subject by showing that it is not out of harmony with the traditions or
prescriptions of the national belief. Concluding that consolatory letter
to his wife upon the death of their little daughter, which is the most
humane and natural expression of sympathy left us by antiquity, he tries
to show that those who die young will earlier feel at home in the other
world than those whose long life on earth has habituated their souls
to a condition so different from that which exists “beyond the gates
of Hades,” and he says that this is a truth which becomes clearer in
the light of the ancient and hereditary customs.[153] No libations are
poured for the young that are dead. They have no share in earth, nor in
the things of earth. The laws do not allow mourning for children of such
tender years, “_because they have gone to dwell in a better land, and
to share a diviner lot_.” And he adds, “I know that these questions are
involved in great uncertainty; but since to disbelieve is more difficult
than to believe, in external matters let us act as the laws enjoin,
while within we become more chaste, and holy, and undefiled.”[154] It
must not be overlooked that Plutarch was long a priest of the Delphian
Apollo, and that the duties of this position responded to some internal
need of his soul, and were not regarded by him as a merely official
dignity, is proved by the manner in which he alludes to the subject. He
is speaking on one occasion of the many indications which the shrine
gives of resuming its former “wealth, and splendour, and honour,” and
he congratulates himself on the zealous and useful part he has taken
in aiding the work of this revival.[155] He mentions two friends as
co-workers in the sacred task, and appears also to felicitate a certain
Roman Governor of Achaia on similar grounds. But he reverently proceeds
to make it quite clear that it is the god himself who is the ultimate
cause of these returning blessings. “But it is not possible that so great
a transformation should have taken place in so short a time through
human activity, unless the god were present and continuing to inspire
his oracle,” and he concludes by censuring those who, in their inability
to discern the motive actuating the divine methods with mankind, “depart
condemning the god, instead of blaming us or themselves, that they
cannot, by reason, discover the intention of the god.”[156]
Plutarch’s attitude of more than tolerance to the “ancient and hereditary
Faith,” an attitude which is, of course, not inconsistent with his desire
to place that Faith on a rational basis, is partly explicable in the
light of his emphatic gratitude to the existing political constitution
of the Græco-Roman world. He would have been an admirable co-worker with
Mæcenas—πρόθυμος καὶ χρήσιμος[157]—in carrying out the religious reforms
of Augustus. He regarded the welfare of Society and the State, of the
family and the individual citizen, as bound up with a belief in the gods
whose agency was so clearly visible in bringing the world to that state
of perfection which it now enjoyed, and which promised to be eternal. No
one now even dreamed of doubting the identity of the gods of Rome with
those of Greece, and Plutarch carries the identification to the extent
of including the gods of almost every people constituting the Roman
Empire.[158] These universal powers had the world in their providential
care, and Rome was the divinely chosen instrument of their beneficent
purposes. The Emperor is the depository of the sacred governing power
of the world.[159] When Tiberius shut himself up in Capreæ, this divine
potency never left him. And though expressions of this kind may be
interpreted as a merely formal recognition of the official dignity
of the Head of the World, Plutarch’s many eloquent descriptions of
the blessings of the _Pax Romana_ leave us in no doubt respecting the
character of his views on this subject. “I welcome and approve,” says
Theon, “the present position of affairs, and the subjects about which
we now consult the oracle. For there now reigns among us a great peace
and calm. War has ceased. Expulsions, seditions, tyrannies, are no
more, and many other diseases and disasters which tormented Greece, and
demanded powerful remedies, are now healed. Hence the oracle is no longer
consulted on matters difficult, secret, and mysterious, but on common
questions of everyday life. Even the most important oracles addressed
to cities are concerned with crops and herds, and matters affecting
the public health.”[160] In the “Præcepta Gerendæ Reipublicæ” he is
still more outspoken in his praise of the Roman administration, and in
his recognition of the opportunities which it gives for the culture of
the individual character within the limits of a greatly generous sway.
Plutarch, as is well known, was gifted with a patriotic regard for the
old achievements of the Hellenic name, but he recognizes with so keen
an insight the great work being accomplished by Rome in the fostering
of municipal institutions, and the establishment of a peace which meant
the undisturbed happiness of millions of obscure families,[161] that, in
the sphere of practical politics, he deliberately turns away from the
group of inspiring ideas connected with ancient Hellenic patriotism. He
alludes coldly, perhaps even sneeringly, to such of his contemporaries
as fancied they could apply the ancient traditions of glory to those
late and unseasonable times, like little children who would try to
wear their father’s sandals;[162] counsels a complete submission to
the duly appointed Roman authorities; fully persuaded that within the
limits of their supremacy there is as much freedom as a reasonable man
could desire to enjoy; and honestly claims to find scope, in a little
Bœotian township, for such political ambition as could be safely and
wisely indulged.[163] It is not difficult to sneer at the prudential
limitation of patriotism to such petty, insignificant, and meagre efforts
as the superintendence of bricks and mortar and the carting of municipal
rubbish; but the wiser thing is to note that Plutarch’s opposition to
vain fancies of the revival of the ancient Hellenic splendour, except
perhaps in such a form as a Hadrian might be inclined to revive it in
an artificial Panhellenium, is based on the conviction that happiness
depends upon the free development of individual character, the
unrestricted enjoyment of domestic peace, the undisturbed intercourse
of social life; and he knew that the Roman sway made it possible, for
Greeks at any rate, to enjoy these blessings to a degree never previously
known in their chequered history.[164] With a clear recognition of the
historical causes of the political decadence of Hellenism, he regards
civic discord as the evil which most demands the attention of those
who still seek opportunities for public action, and he is particularly
grateful to the strong hand of Rome for controlling the internecine
animosities of Greek cities. “Consider,” says he, “our position with
regard to those blessings which are counted as the greatest that a city
can enjoy: Peace, Freedom, Fertility of Soil, Increase of Population,
Domestic Concord. As regards Peace, our peoples have no present need of
politicians. Every Greek war, every Barbarian war, has vanished from
among us. For Freedom, our peoples enjoy as much as their rulers allow
them, _and a greater share would perhaps not be any better for them_.
For fine seasons and plentiful harvests, for families of ‘children like
their sires,’ and for gracious aid to the new-born child, the good man in
his prayers will invoke the gods on behalf of his fellow-citizens.”[165]
As for civic concord, that, he says, is in our own power, and those who
desire a life of political activity could not do better than devote
themselves to the task of spreading harmony and friendship among their
fellow-citizens. The peace which the Romans have established in the world
makes it possible to develop character on these social lines, and he
recognizes, in a pregnant comparison, that the freedom which the Greeks
enjoy is sufficient to allow the fullest play to the development of their
own moral character. The drama is composed and staged: the prompter
stands behind the scene ready with the cue: but the player can give his
own interpretation of the character he represents, though remembering
that a slip _may_ meet with a worse fate than mere hissing in the
audience.[166]
Plutarch is clearly of opinion that this state of things is best for his
fellow-countrymen. He is as firmly convinced of the divine mission of
Rome as ever was Virgil or any other patriotic Roman.[167] In his tract
“De Fortuna Romanorum,” he discusses the question whether the greatness
of Rome was due to Τύχη or Ἀρετή, or, as he expresses the antithesis
in another place, to Τύχη or Πρόνοια—to Chance or to Providence, we
may translate, if we recognize that here Chance is the divine element,
and Providence the human.[168] In other words, is the grandeur of Rome
the result of human virtue and forethought, or is it a direct gift of
the Deity to mankind? He decides in the latter sense, though conceding
much to the valour of individual Romans; and his incidental expressions
of opinion bear as much evidence to the divinely inspired and divinely
guided character of Roman administration as is borne by his definite
conclusion. He says that, whichever way the question is decided, it can
only redound to the glory of Rome to be the subject of a discussion
which has hitherto been confined to the great natural phenomena of the
universe—the earth, the sea, the heavens, and the stars. His very words
are curiously reminiscent of Virgil’s _rerum pulcherrima, Roma_ (τῶν
ἀνθρωπίνων ἔργων τὸ κάλλιστον),[169] as he tells how Time, in concert
with the Deity, laid the foundations of Rome, harmonizing to that end
the influence of Fortune and Virtue alike, thus establishing for all
the nations of mankind a sacred hearth, a harbour and a resting-place,
“an anchorage from the wandering seas” of human stress and turmoil,
a principle of eternity amid the evanescence and mutability of other
things. He describes with great vigour of language the instability of the
world under the domination of other Empires, until Rome acquired her full
strength and splendour, and brought peace and security and permanence
among these warring elements.[170]
Being so satisfied with the constitution of the world, it is natural
that Plutarch should have nothing but reverent words for the eternal
powers whose guidance had led to so happy a disposition of human affairs.
However much Philosophy should endeavour to free the mind from the crude
and vulgar elements in the “ancient and hereditary Faith,” she must never
be tempted to profess other than the most pious belief in its fundamental
truth and right; and the ultimate aim of Philosophy must be to strengthen
and revive the ancient Religion by freeing it from inconsistencies and
crudities which, so long as they appeared to be an essential part of the
system, only existed to shock the pious and to encourage atheism.
Plutarch’s attitude towards the ancient Faith may thus be defined as
one of patriotic acceptance modified by philosophic criticism; not that
criticism which tries everything from the fixed standpoint of a set of
rules logically irrefutable: but that which is really the spirit of
rationalism pervading all philosophies alike. If Plutarch’s attitude
is that of a Platonist, it is that of a Platonist whose experience of
ordinary human affairs, and whose recognition of their importance in
Philosophy, have compelled him to modify the genuine teaching of the
Master into something like the spirit of compromise characterizing the
later Academics. His teaching is not the philosophic despotism of Plato;
it might easily be characterized as “plebeian,”[171] as Epicureanism
was by Cicero, or “commonplace,” as Aristotle has been described by
Platonists. It breathes that free spirit of truth which bids every man,
whether he is a practised philosopher or not, or even if he has not
studied mathematics, to give a reason for the faith that is in him:
to apply the touchstone of his own practical experience and native
intelligence to the domain of Ethics and Religion as to the domain of
every-day life, because, as a matter of fact, the domain of every-day
life is the domain of Religion and Ethics. The dictum of Hesiod, enforced
by Aristotle and applied in practice by the Epicureans, and by the
Stoics, is the keynote of the teaching of Plutarch:—“He is most excellent
of all, who judges of all things for himself.”