Chapter XII: Introduction (2)

XVII. While I was still speaking, Olympicus broke in: ‘It seems to me’, he said, ‘that your argument relies on a great [Sidenote: B] fundamental assumption—the permanence of the soul.’ ‘Subject to your consent, it does,’ I replied, ‘or rather to your consent already given; for, from the initial supposition that God dispenses to us according to our deserts, the discussion has proceeded to its present stage.’ ‘Then’, he said, ‘you think that, because the Gods survey and administer all our affairs, it follows that our souls are either wholly imperishable, or, permanent for a certain time after death.’ ‘Oh no! good friend,’ I said, ‘but the God is so petty, so important a trifler, that, dealing with men like us, who have nothing in us divine or like him in any way, or persistent, or solid, but who wither away altogether “like leaves”, as Homer[238] said, and [Sidenote: C] perish within a short span, he makes us of so great account! That would be like the gardens of Adonis which women nurse and tend in crockery pots; souls of a day springing up within a pampered flesh wherein no strong living root finds room, and then at once snuffed out on the first pretext. But, if you will, let the other Gods be, and look at our own God here. Knowing that the souls of those who die perish at once, like mists or smoke-wreaths exhaled from the bodies, does he, think you, require men to bring so many propitiations for the departed, [Sidenote: D] and such great honours to the dead, deceiving and tricking his believers? For myself, I will never give up the permanence of the soul, unless some one like Hercules shall come, and remove the tripod of the Pythia, and lay waste the place of the oracles. But in our own time so long as many such prophecies are given as once were delivered to Corax the Naxian, it is nothing less than impious to condemn the soul to death.’ Here Patrocleas asked: ‘But what was the prophecy delivered, and who was this Corax? The fact and the name are equally strange to [Sidenote: E] me.’ ‘Not at all,’ I said, ‘the fault is mine for using a by-name instead of the real one. The man who killed Archilochus in battle was called Calondas, it appears; Corax was a by-name given to him. Turned out, at first, by the Pythia, as having slain a man sacred to the Muses, then, having put in a plea of justification, accompanied by prayers and supplications, he was ordered to go to the “dwelling of Tettix” and propitiate the soul of Archilochus. This place was Taenarus; for thither, they say, Tettix the Cretan went with an expedition, and there he founded a city, and dwelt near the “Place of the [Sidenote: F] Passage of Souls”. So, when the Spartans had been ordered to propitiate the soul of Pausanias, the “Conductors of Souls” were sent for out of Italy, and, after having done sacrifice, ousted the ghost from the temple.

XVIII. ‘Thus’, I continued, ‘the argument which assures the Providence of God and also the permanence of the human soul, is one only; it is impossible to remove either and to keep the other. But if the soul exists after death, it becomes more probable that a requital is made to it in full both of honours [Sidenote: 561] and of punishments. Like an athlete, it is engaged in a contest during life; the contest done, it then receives in its own self all its due. However, what rewards or what chastisements it there receives in its own self, are nothing to us that are alive, they are disbelieved or are unmarked. But those which pass through children or family are manifest to those who are here, and turn away many bad men and pull them up short. But to prove that there is no more disgraceful and grievous punishment than for a man to see his own descendants suffering on his account; and that when the soul of an offender against piety or law looks after death, and sees, not the overthrow of statues or [Sidenote: B] memorials effaced, but sons or friends or kinsmen involved in great misfortunes, all because of itself, and paying its penalties, it could not be content, no, not for all the honours which are given to Zeus, to become a second time unjust and profligate, I can tell you a story which I have lately heard; yet I hesitate lest it may appear to you a myth, so I confine myself to showing the probability.’ ‘On no account!’ said Olympicus, ‘give us the whole of that story too.’ As the others made the same petition, ‘Let me make good’, said I, ‘the probability of the view, then we will start the myth, if myth indeed it be.

XIX. ‘Now Bion says that it would be more ridiculous [Sidenote: C] if God were to punish the sons of wicked men, than for a doctor to drug a descendant or a son for the disease of a grandfather or a father. But the cases are dissimilar in one respect, though closely alike in another. The treatment of one person does not relieve another from disease; no patient with eye disease or fever was ever the better for seeing an ointment or a plaster applied to another. The punishments of the wicked are exhibited to all, because the effect of the reasonable operation of justice is to restrain some through the punishment of others. But the point of resemblance between the parallel adduced [Sidenote: D] by Bion and our problem he failed to observe; it is this: when a man has fallen into a sickness which is bad but not incurable, and afterwards through intemperance and self-indulgence has surrendered his body to the malady and has died of it, then, if there be a son, not evidently diseased but only with a tendency to the same disease, a physician, or relative, or trainer, or a kind master who has learnt the state of the case, will put him upon a strict diet and remove made dishes and drinks and women, and use regular courses of physic, and harden his body by exercises, and will thus disperse and expel the symptoms, and [Sidenote: E] not allow the little seed of a great trouble to reach any size. Is not that the tone which we adopt, entreating sons of fathers or mothers with a tendency to diseases to pay attention to themselves, and to watch out, and not be careless, but to get rid at once of the first beginnings in the system, taking them in time while they are easy to move and loosely seated?’ ‘It is indeed’, they said. ‘Then we are doing nothing out of place, but a necessary act, one which is useful and not ludicrous, when we introduce the sons of epileptic or bilious or gouty sires to gymnastic exercise, diet, and drugs, not when they are [Sidenote: F] suffering from a disease but in order that they may not take it; for a body which proceeds out of a vitiated body deserves no punishment but rather medical care and watching; if any one in his cowardice and softness chooses to miscall that punishment, because it removes pleasures and applies the sharp prick of pain and trial, we have nothing more to say to him. Now then, does a body, the issue of a faulty body, deserve treatment and care, and yet we must endure to see the likeness of a kinsman’s [Sidenote: 562] vice springing up within a young character, and making its growth there, and to wait until it be spread over his system and manifest itself in his passions,

_And show the evil fruit
Of mind awry_,

as Pindar[239] says?

XX. ‘Or is the God in this to be less wise than Hesiod,[240] who exhorts and charges:

_Ne’er after gloomy burial, of life
Sow thou the seed, but fresh from heavenly feasts_,

meaning that the act of generation admits not only of vice and virtue, but also of grief and joy and the rest, and therefore he would bring men cheerful and pleasant and open-hearted to the task? But the other matter does not come out of Hesiod, nor is it the effect of human wisdom, but of the God, [Sidenote: B] to see through likenesses and differences of temperament, before they stand revealed by a plunge through the passions into great crimes. For the cubs of bears while still tiny, and the young of wolves and apes, show at once the character of their kind, there is no disguise or pretence; but the nature of man is plunged at once into customs and rules and laws, and often conceals the bad points and imitates the good, so that the inborn stain of vice is entirely effaced and removed, or else is undetected for a long time; it assumes a sheath or cloke of [Sidenote: C] cleverness, which we fail to see through. We perceive the wickedness with an effort each time that the blow or prick of the several misdoings touches us. In a word, we think that men become unjust when they commit an injustice, become intemperate when they do a violence, become cowardly when they run away. It is as though we should think that the scorpion grows a sting when he strikes, or vipers their venom when they bite, which would be simple indeed! Take any single bad man, he does not become bad when he appears bad; he has the vice from the first, but it comes out as he gets opportunity and power, the thief, of thieving, the born tyrant, of forcing the laws. But God, by his own nature, apprehends [Sidenote: D] soul better than body; and we may be sure that he is neither ignorant of the disposition and nature of each, nor waits to punish violence of the hands, or insolence of the tongue, or profligacy of the body. For he has himself suffered no wrong; is not angry with the robber because he has met with violence, does not hate the profligate because he has been assaulted; but, as a remedial measure, he often chastises the man whose tendency is to adulterous crime, or to greed, or to injustice, thus destroying vice before it has taken hold, as he might an epilepsy.

XXI. ‘Yet we were indignant a little while ago, that the wicked are punished so late and so slowly. And now we complain [Sidenote: E] because God sometimes cuts short the habit and disposition before any wrong is done, not knowing that the thing to come is often worse and more alarming than the thing done, what is hidden than what is apparent, and unable to calculate the reasons why it is better to leave some alone even after they have committed an offence, and to be beforehand with others who are still meditating one; exactly as drugs are of no use for certain persons when sick, but are of service to others who are not actually sick, but are in a state still more dangerous. [Sidenote: F] So it is not always a case of

_The parents trip upon their offspring turned
By Heav’n’s high hand._[241]

If a good son be born of a bad sire, as a healthy child of a sickly parent, he is relieved from the penalty of race, saved by adoption out of vice. But the young man who throws back to the likeness of a tainted race ought, surely, to take to the debts on his inheritance, that is, to the punishment due to wickedness. Antigonus was not punished because of Demetrius, nor—to go back to the heroes of old—Phyleus for Augeas, nor Nestor [Sidenote: 563] for Neleus. These all came of bad sires, but were good. But where natural disposition has embraced and adopted the family failing, in those cases Justice pursues and visits to the uttermost the likeness in vice. For as warts and spots and moles of parents disappear in their children, but return on the persons of grandchildren; as again a Greek woman had borne a black child, and when charged with adultery, discovered that she was of Ethiopian parentage in the fourth degree; and as, yet again, out of the sons of Nisibeus, lately dead, who was reported to be related to the “Sown Men” of Thebes, one reproduced [Sidenote: B] the mark of a spear on his body—family likeness re-emerging from the depths, after such long intervals—, even so it is often the case that characteristics and affections of the soul are concealed and submerged in the early generations, but afterwards break out again in later individuals, and Nature restores the familiar type, for vice or for virtue.’

XXII. When I had spoken thus I remained silent. Olympicus laughed quietly, and said: ‘We are not applauding you, lest we should seem to be letting you off the myth, as though the demonstration of your view were sufficient without it; when we have heard it, we will give judgement.’ So I went on to tell them: ‘Thespesius of Soli, a kinsman and friend of that Protogenes who has been with us here, after an early life [Sidenote: C] of great profligacy, quickly ran through his fortune, changed his ways perforce, and took to the pursuit of wealth; when he had the usual experience of the profligates who do not keep their wives when they have them, but cast them away and try wrongfully to get their favours when united to other men. He stopped at nothing disgraceful if it led to enjoyment or gain, and in a short time got together an inconsiderable fortune and a mighty reputation for evil. What hit him hardest was an answer [Sidenote: D] delivered to him by the oracle of Amphilochus. It appears that he had sent to ask the God “whether he will do better the rest of his life?”[242] The answer was that he “will live better when he has died”. And sure enough this, in a way, so fell out not long afterwards. He fell over from a high place, upon his head; there was no wound, but he appeared to die of the mere blow, and on the third day, at the very time of the funeral, revived. He quickly recovered his strength, and came to himself, and the change of life which followed was incredible. For the Cilicians know of no man more fair in all business relations, or more holy in religious duties, so formidable a foe or so faithful a friend. [Sidenote: E] Hence those who were brought into contact with him were very curious to hear the cause of the difference, thinking that a character so completely remodelled must have been the result of no trifling experience. And so it truly was, according to the story related by him to Protogenes, and other equally considerate friends. For, when sentience left his body, he felt affected by a change, as a helmsman might do when first plunged overboard into the depth of the sea; then, recovering a little, he seemed to himself to breathe all over and to look around, while his soul opened like one great eye. But he saw [Sidenote: F] nothing of what he had been seeing before, only stars of vast size, at infinite distances from one another, each emitting a ray of marvellous colour and of a tonic force, so that the soul, riding smoothly on the light, as though over a calm sea, was carried easily and quickly in every direction. Passing over most of the sights he saw, he said that the souls of those who die make a flame-like bubble where the air parts as they rise [Sidenote: 564] from below, then the bubble quickly bursts, and they emerge with human form but light in bulk, with a movement which is not the same for all. Some bound forth with marvellous agility, and dart upwards in a straight line, while others whirl round together like spindles, now with an upward tendency, now a downward, borne on by a mingled confused agitation, which after a very long time, and then with difficulty, is reduced to calm. Most of them he did not recognize, but seeing two or three persons of his acquaintance, he tried to approach them and speak. They would not hear him, and [Sidenote: B] appeared not to be themselves, but to be distraught and scared out of their senses, shunning all sight or touch, while they roamed about, first by themselves; then they would meet and embrace others in like case, and whirl round in random indefinite figures of every sort, uttering unmeaning sounds, like cries of battle mingled with those of lamentation and terror. Others above, on the extremity of the firmament, were cheerful to behold, often drawing near to one another in kindness, and turning away from those other turbid souls; and they would signify, as it seemed, their annoyance by [Sidenote: C] out drawing close together, but joy and affability by opening and dispersing. There he saw, he said, the soul of a kinsman, but not very certainly, for the man had died while he was himself a child. However, the soul drew towards him, and said, “Hail Thespesius!” He was surprised at this, and said that his name was not Thespesius, but Aridaeus. “Formerly so,” was the reply, “but from now Thespesius. For you are not really dead, but, by some appointment of Heaven, have come hither with your sentient part, the rest of your soul is left within the body, as a light anchor. Let this be a sign to you now and hereafter; the souls of the dead make no shadow, and their eyes do not [Sidenote: D] blink.”[243] When Thespesius heard this, he drew himself together in deeper thought, and as he gazed, he saw a sort of dim and shadowy line which wavered as he moved, while the others were transparent within, all set around with brightness, yet not all equally. Some were like the full moon at her purest, and emitted one smooth, continuous, uniform colour; over others there ran scales, so to call them, or slender weals; others were quite dappled and strange to look upon, branded with black spots like those on serpents; others again showed open blunted scars. Then [Sidenote: E] the kinsman of Thespesius (for nothing forbids us to designate the souls in this way by the names of men) began to explain it all to him, as thus: “Adrasteia, daughter of Zeus and Necessity, has been appointed to punish all crimes in the highest place; no criminal has there ever yet been, so small or so great, as to pass unseen or to escape by his might. But there are three modes of punishment, and each mode has its proper guardian minister. Some men are punished, at once in the body and through their body, and these swift Retribution handles; her [Sidenote: F] method is a gentle one, and passes over many crimes which ask for expiation. Those whose cure is a heavier matter are passed after death to Justice by the daemon. The wholly incurable Justice rejects; and these the third, and the fiercest, of the satellites of Adrasteia, whose name is Erinnys, chases, as they wander and try to escape in all directions; and it is pitiful and cruel how she brings them all to nothing and plunges them into the gulf which is beyond speech or sight. As to the [Sidenote: 565] other two modes of justification,” he went on, “that which is wrought by Retribution during life resembles the usage of barbarian countries. For as in Persia they pluck off and scourge the robes and the hats of men under punishment, while their owners implore them to stop, so punishments through money or upon the person get no close grip, they do not fasten on the vice itself, but are mostly for appearance and appeal to the senses. But whoever makes his way here from earth unchastened and unpurged, Justice firmly seizes him, with his soul naked and manifest, having no place into which to skulk, [Sidenote: B] that he may hide and veil his wickedness, but eyed from all sides, and by all, and all over. And first she shows him to good parents, if such he has, or to ancestors, a contemptible and unworthy sight. If these are all bad, he sees them punished and is seen by them, and so is justified during a long time, while each of his passions is dislodged by pains and toils, which as much exceed in greatness and intensity those which are through the flesh, as a day dream may be clearer than that which comes in sleep. Scars and weals left by particular passions[244] are more [Sidenote: C] persistent in some men than in others. And look”, he said, “at those motley colours upon the souls, which come from every source. There is the dusky, dirty red, which is the smear made by meanness and greed; the fiery blood-red of cruelty and harshness. Where you see the bluish grey, there intemperance in pleasures has been rubbed away, and a heavy work it was; malice and envying have been there to inject that violet beneath the skin, as cuttle-fishes their ink. For down on earth vice brings out the colours, while the soul is turned about by the passions and turns the body, but here, when these have been smoothed away, the final result of purgation, and chastisement is this, that the soul becomes radiant all over [Sidenote: D] and of one hue. But as long as the colours are in it, there are certain reversions to passion, with throbbings and a pulsation which in some is faint and easily passes off, in others makes vigorous resistance. Of these souls, some, being chastised again and again, attain their fitting habit and disposition; others are transferred into the bodies of beasts by masterful ignorance and the passionate love of pleasure;[245] for ignorance, through weakness of the reasoning part and inactivity of the speculative, inclines on its practical side towards generation; while the love of pleasure, requiring an instrument for intemperance, [Sidenote: E] craves to unite the desires with their satisfaction, and to have share in corporeal excitement, since here is nothing save a sort of ineffectual shadow, and a dream of pleasure without its fulfilment.” Having said this, he began to lead him on, moving rapidly yet covering, as it seemed, a space of infinite extent with unfaltering ease, borne upwards on the rays of light, as though by wings, until he reached a great chasm which yawned downwards. There he was deserted by the supporting force, and saw the other souls in the same case. Packing together, like birds, and borne down and around, they [Sidenote: F] circled about the chasm, which they did not venture to cross outright. You might see it within, resembling the caves of Bacchus, dressed in wood and greenery, and gay with blossoms of flowers of every sort; and it exhaled a mild and gentle breeze which wafted odours of marvellous delight, and produced such an atmosphere as wine throws off for its votaries; for the souls feasted on the fragrant smells and were relaxed into mutual kindliness. All around a bacchic humour prevailed, and laughter, and every joy which the Muses can give where men sport and are merry. By this way, he said, Dionysus went up to the Gods, and [Sidenote: 566] afterwards brought Semele; it is called “the Place of Lethe”. Here he did not allow Thespesius to linger, even though he would, but kept drawing him away by force, explaining to him as he did so that the sentient mind becomes wasted and sodden by pleasure, while the irrational and corporeal part is watered and pampered and suggests recollection of the body, and, from that recollection, a yearning and desire which makes for generation (genesis), so named because it is a leaning towards earth (Ge-neusis)[246] when the soul is weighed down by moisture. Having travelled another journey as long as the first, he seemed to be gazing into a mighty bowl, with rivers discharging into [Sidenote: B] it, one whiter than foam of the sea, or snowflakes, another with the purple flush of the rainbow, others tinged with different hues. From a distance each showed its proper ray, but as he drew near the rim became invisible, and the colouring was dulled, and the more brilliant hues deserted the bowl, leaving only the whiteness. And there he saw three daemons seated close together in a triangle, mingling the streams in certain measures. Now the soul-conductor of Thespesius told him that thus far Orpheus advanced, when he was questing [Sidenote: C] for the soul of his wife, and, from not rightly remembering, put out an untrue account among men, namely that “there was an oracle at Delphi, held by Apollo and Night in common, whereas Night has nothing in common with Apollo. Really,” he said, “this oracle is shared by Night and the moon, having nowhere an earthly bound, or a single habitation, but roaming over men everywhere in dreams and phantoms. From here it is that dreams, which are mingled, as you see, with what is deceitful and embroidered, get so much simplicity and truth as they scatter abroad. The oracle of Apollo”, he continued, [Sidenote: D] “you have not seen, nor will you ever be able to see it, for the earthly element of the soul does not mount upwards or allow that; it is attached closely to the body and bends downwards.” And as he spoke, he led him on, and he tried to show him the light coming, as he said, from the tripod, resting on Parnassus between the breasts of Themis. Earnestly desiring to see, he saw nothing for the brightness. But he heard, as he passed, a woman’s shrill voice chanting in verse many things, among them the time of his own death. The daemon told him that the voice was that of the Sibyl,[247] who was singing about things to be, as she was carried round on the face of the moon. He [Sidenote: E] desired to hear more, but was thrust off by the whirling of the moon to the opposite side, as though caught in the eddies, and only heard scraps, one of which was about Mount Vesuvius and the future destruction by fire of Dicaearcheia, and a fragment of song about the emperor of that day, how that

_so good a man
Shall die upon his bed, and end his reign._[248]

After that, they turned to the sight of those under punishment. At first they met only with repulsive and piteous spectacles. Afterwards, when Thespesius found friends and relations and intimates, whom he could never have conceived of as punished, enduring sore sufferings and penalties both ignominious and [Sidenote: F] painful, and pitying themselves to him and weeping aloud; and at last saw his own father emerging from a certain pit, all over brands and scars, reaching out his hand towards his son and not permitted to be silent, but compelled by the warders to confess his infamous conduct to some strangers who had come with gold—how he had poisoned them, and had escaped detection there on earth, but had been convicted here, how he had already suffered part, and was now led to suffer the remainder—, then he did not dare to supplicate [Sidenote: 567] or to entreat for his father, so great was his consternation and horror. Wishing to turn about and flee, he saw no longer that gracious and familiar guide, but was thrust forward by others of terrible visage, because it was necessary that he should go through it all. There he beheld the shadows of those who had been notoriously wicked, and who had been punished on the spot, not savagely handled as were the former ones, because[249] their trouble was in the irrational seat of the passions. [Sidenote: B] But those who had passed through life under a veil or cloak of the appearance of virtue, were compelled by others, who stood around, laboriously and painfully to turn their soul inside out, writhing and bending themselves back unnaturally, as the scolopendrae[250] of the sea, when they have gorged the hook, turn themselves inside out. Others they would flay, and fold the skin back, to show how scarred and mottled they were beneath it, because the vice was seated in the rational and directing part. Other souls he said that he saw intertwined like vipers, by twos or threes or more together, gnawing one another out of spite and rancour for what they had suffered [Sidenote: C] in life, or done. And there were lakes lying side by side, one of boiling gold, one of lead, exceeding cold, and one of iron, which was rough. Over these stood daemons, as it might be smiths, with tongs, picking up by turns the souls of those whose wickedness came of greed and grasping, and plunging them in. When they had become all fiery and transparent in the burning gold, they were thrust into the bath of lead; and when frozen till they became hard as hailstones, they were shifted on to the iron, and there they became hideously black, [Sidenote: D] and were broken up and crushed, so hard and brittle were they, and their shapes were changed. Then they were conveyed, just as they were, back to the gold, enduring dire pains in the transition. Most pitiful of all, he said, was the case of those who seemed already quit of Justice and then were seized up anew. These were the souls whose penalty had come round to any descendants or children. For whenever any one of these last came up and met them, he would fall upon them in anger, and shout aloud, and show the marks of his sufferings, reviling and pursuing, while the parent soul sought to flee and hide [Sidenote: E] itself, but could not; for the torturers would run swiftly after and bring them to Justice, and force them through all from the beginning, while they bewailed themselves because they knew the punishment before them. And there were some, he said, to whom a number of their offspring were attached, clinging to them just like bees or bats, and jibbering in wrathful recollection of what they had suffered on account of their parents. Last of all, while he was looking at the souls returning to a second birth—how they were violently bent and transformed into animals of every sort by the executioners of this task, [Sidenote: F] who used certain implements and blows, here squeezing together the limbs entire, here twisting them aside, here planing them away and getting rid of them altogether, to fit into other characters and other lives—, there appeared among these the soul of Nero, already in torment, and pierced with red-hot nails. For it the executioners had prepared the form of a viper, as Pindar describes it, wherein the beast is to be conceived, and live, after having devoured its own mother. And then, he said, there shone out a great light, and from the light came a voice commanding them to shift Nero to some other milder species, and to fashion a beast to sing around marshes and pools, for that he had paid the penalty of his crimes; and moreover some benefit was due to him from the Gods, because he had freed [Sidenote: 568] the best and most God-loving race, that of Hellas. Up to this point, Thespesius had been, he said, a spectator. But as he was about to return, he suffered a horrible fear. For a woman of marvellous form and stature seized hold of him: “Come here, fellow!” she said, “that thou mayest have a better memory of these things.” Then she brought near him a rod, such as painters use, red-hot, but another woman prevented her. He, sucked up by a sudden violent wind, as out of a blow-pipe, fell on to his own body, and just opened his eyes on the edge of the tomb.’

Footnote 199:

See p. 313.

Footnote 200:

On the proverb ‘Post Lesbium Cantorem’.

Footnote 201:

i. e. in the battle of Amphipolis. See Thuc. 5, 10 and Plut. _Life of
Nicias_, c. 9.

Footnote 202:

_Orestes_, 420.

Footnote 203:

3, 38.

Footnote 204:

See Pausanias, 4, 17.

Footnote 205:

Fr. 969.

Footnote 206:

The author of this famous line is unknown.

Footnote 207:

Fr. 57.

Footnote 208:

_Minos_, 319 C.

Footnote 209:

No specific passage can be identified with the words in the text. For
the sequel cp. _Timaeus_, 30 A.

Footnote 210:

Cp. _Rep._ 6, 508 A.

Footnote 211:

See p. 181 n. 1.

Footnote 212:

This line is a continuation of the quotation from Melanthius above.

Footnote 213:

Cp. Aesch. _Cho._ 313, &c.

Footnote 214:

Quoted several times as from Pindar (see Fr. 77), but perhaps rather
Simonides.

Footnote 215:

_Il._ 15, 641.

Footnote 216:

Cp. Aristot. _Poet._ c. 9.

Footnote 217:

_W. and D._ 266, 265.

Footnote 218:

_Laws_, 5, 728 C.

Footnote 219:

i.e. under Roman law. See Smith’s _Dict. Ant._, _s.v._ Crux.

Footnote 220:

_Rep._ 406 B.

Footnote 221:

See H. Richards in _Class. Rev._ vol. 29, p. 235, and, for the
quotation, the _Life of Lucullus_, c. 1.

Footnote 222:

Fr. 42, and see Jebb’s Introd. to the _Electra_ of Sophocles.

Footnote 223:

See _Life of Aristides_, c. 6. also Dion Chrys. _Orat._ 64.

Footnote 224:

See _Life of Cimon_, c. 6.

Footnote 225:

Again quoted, _De Curiosit._ 520 A.

Footnote 226:

Eur. _Ino_, Fr. 403.

Footnote 227:

Fr. 970.

Footnote 228:

See Herod. 2, 134.

Footnote 229:

i. e. Polyphemus. See _Od._ 9, 375 foll.

Footnote 230:

See Herod. 66, 74, and Pausan. 4, 252, and 8, 18.

Footnote 231:

From an unknown poet; Euphorion and Arctinus are suggested.

Footnote 232:

Fr. 123.

Footnote 233:

Hence a proverb applied to what was second-rate.

Footnote 234:

Arist. _H. A._ 9, 3, 610 b 29.

Footnote 235:

See Thuc. 2, 48; also _Plague and Pestilence in Literature and Art_,
by Raymond Crawfurd, M.D., chap. 2 and Appendix.

Footnote 236:

Cp. Plato, _Laws_, 4, 715 A.

Footnote 237:

Fr. 41.

Footnote 238:

_Il._ 6, 146.

Footnote 239:

Fr. 211.

Footnote 240:

_W. and D._ 735-6.

Footnote 241:

Eur. Fr. 970.

Footnote 242:

I have transposed the verbs as suggested in Wyttenbach’s Commentary.

Footnote 243:

Cp. Dante, _Purg._ 3, 19 foll. The idea is Pythagorean (see _Quaest.
Graec._ 40, p. 300).

Footnote 244:

Cp. Plato, _Gorg._ 524 D.

Footnote 245:

See H. Richards in _Class. Rev._, vol. 29, p. 236.

Footnote 246:

Cp. p. 215, n. 1.

Footnote 247:

Cp. p. 89.

Footnote 248:

Probably a Sibylline verse. See Suetonius, _Life of Vespasian_.

Footnote 249:

Reading ἅτε δή with C. F. Hermann.

Footnote 250:

Cp. Aristot. _Hist. Anim._ 2, 14, 505 b 13, and 10, 37, 621 a 6.

FROM THE DIALOGUE ‘ON THE SOUL’
A FRAGMENT

[Preserved by Stobaeus, _Florileg._ 119.[251]]

I. When Timon had spoken thus, Patrocleas replied: ‘Your argument is as forcible as it is ancient, yet there are difficulties. For if the doctrine of immortality is so very old, how is it that the fear of death is “oldest of terrors”[252]? Unless, of course, it is this which has engendered all other terrors. For there is nothing “fresh or new” in our mourning for the dead, or in the use of those sad sinister forms of speech, “Poor man!” “Unfortunate man!”’

II. ‘But there’, said Timon, ‘we shall find a confusion of ideas between what perishes and what does not. Now when we speak of the dead as having “passed away” and being “gone”, there is clearly no suggestion of anything actually harsh, only of a change or transition of some sort. Where that change takes place for those who undergo it, and whether it be for worse or better, let us consider by looking into the other words used. Our actual word for death[253], in the first place, does not appear to point to a movement downward, or beneath the earth, but rather to a mounting upward towards God of that which passes. Thus we may reasonably suppose that the soul darts out and runs upward, as though a bent spring had been released, when the body breathes it out, and itself draws an upward vital breath. Next, look at the opposite of death, which is generation; this word, on the contrary, expresses a tendency downward, an inclination to earth[254] of that which at the time of death again speeds upward. Hence, too, we call our natal day by a name which means a beginning of evils and of great troubles.[255] Perhaps we shall see the same thing even more clearly from another set of words. A man when he dies is said to be “released”, and death called a “release”—if you ask the question “from what?”, a release from body[256]—for body is called dĕmas, because the soul is kept in bondage in it, contrary to nature, nothing being forcibly detained in a place which is natural to it. A further play upon this “bondage” and “force” gives the word “life”, as Homer,[257] I think, uses Hesperus for the feminine “evening”, and so, in contrast to “life”, the dead is said to come to his rest, released from a great and unnatural stress. So with the change and reconstitution of the soul into the Whole; we say that it has perished when it has made its way thither; while here it does not know this unless at the actual approach of death, when it undergoes such an experience as those do who are initiated into great mysteries. Thus death and initiation closely correspond, word to word,[258] and thing to thing. At first there are wanderings, and laborious circuits, and journeyings through the dark, full of misgivings where there is no consummation; then, before the very end, come terrors of every kind, shivers, and trembling, and sweat, and amazement. After this, a wonderful light meets the wanderer; he is admitted into pure meadow lands, where are voices, and dances, and the majesty of holy sounds and sacred visions. Here the newly initiate, all rites completed, is at large; he walks at large like the dedicated victim with a crown on his head, and joins in high revelry; he converses with pure and holy men, and surveys the uninitiate unpurified crowd here below in the dirt and darkness, trampled by its own feet and packed together; through fear of death remaining in its ills, because it does not believe in the blessings which are beyond. For that the conjunction of soul with body, and its imprisonment, are against nature, you may clearly see from this.’

III. ‘From what?’ said Patrocleas. ‘From the fact that of all our experiences sleep is the most agreeable. First, it always extinguishes any perception of pain, because its pleasure is mingled with so much that is familiar, secondly, it overpowers all other appetites, even the most vehement. For even those who are devoted to the body become disinclined for pleasure when sleep comes on, and when they slumber reject loving embraces. Why dwell on this? When sleep takes possession, it excludes even the pleasure which comes from learning, and discussion, and philosophic thought, as though a smooth deep stream swept the soul along. All pleasure, perhaps, is by its essence and nature a respite from pain, but of sleep this is absolutely true. For, though nothing exciting or delightful should approach from without, yet we feel pleasure in a sound sleep; sleep seems to remove a condition of toil and hardness. And that condition is no other than that which binds soul to body. In sleep the soul is separated, and speeds upward, and is gathered unto itself after having been strained to fit the body, and dispersed among the senses. Yet some assert that, on the contrary, sleep immingles soul with body. They are wrong. The body bears its witness the other way, by its lack of sensation, its coldness, and heaviness, and pallor proving that the soul leaves it in death, and shifts its quarters in sleep. This produces the pleasure; it is a release and respite for the soul, as though it laid down a burthen which it must again resume and shoulder. For when it dies it runs away from the body for good; when it is asleep, it plays truant. Therefore death is sometimes accompanied by pains, sleep always by pleasure; in the former case the bond is snapped altogether, in the latter it gives, and is slackened, and becomes easier, as the senses are loosened like parting knots, and the strain which ties soul to body is gone.’

IV. ‘Then how is it’, said Patrocleas, ‘that we do not feel discomfort or pain from being awake?’ ‘How is it’, said Timon, ‘that when the hair is cut, the head feels lightness and relief, yet there was no sense of oppression at all while the hair was long? Or that men released from bonds feel pleasure, yet there is no pain when the chains are on? Or why is there a stir of applause when light is brought suddenly into a banquet, yet its absence did not appear to cause pain or trouble to the eye? There is one cause, my friend, in all these cases; that gradual habituation made the unnatural familiar to the sense, so that it felt absolutely no distress then, but felt pleasure when there was release and a restoration to nature. The strangeness is seen at once when the proper condition comes, the presence of what pained and pressed by contrast with the pleasure. It is exactly so with the soul: during its association with mortal passions, and parts, and organs, that which is unnatural and strange produces no apparent pressure because of that long familiarity; yet when discharged from the activities of the body, it feels ease, and relief, and pleasure. By them it is distressed, and about these it toils, and from these it craves leisure and rest. For all that concerns its own natural activities—observation, reasoning, memory, speculation—it is unwearied and insatiable. Satiety is nothing but a weariness of pleasure, when soul feels with body. To its own pleasures soul never cries “Enough”; but while it is involved in body, it is in the plight of Ulysses.[259] As he clung to the fig-tree, and hugged it, not from love of the tree, but fearing Charybdis down below, so soul clings to body and embraces it, from no goodwill to it or gratitude, but in horror of the uncertainty of death,

_For life the gods conceal from mortal men_,

says the wise Hesiod.[260] They have not strained soul to body by fleshy bonds, one bond they have contrived and one encompassing device, the uncertainty of what comes after death, and our slowness to believe; since, “if the soul were persuaded”, as Heraclitus[261] says, “of all the things which await men when they have died, no force would keep it back.”’

Footnote 251:

Where it is ascribed to Themistius. It was reclaimed for Plutarch by
Wyttenbach in the Preface to his edition of the _De Sera Numinum
Vindicta_—Leiden 1772.

Footnote 252:

In the Dialogue (_Ne suaviter quidem_, c. 26) in which the Epicureans
are attacked, the ‘hope of eternal existence’ or ‘desire to be’, is
spoken of as the ‘oldest and greatest of loves’.

Footnote 253:

θάνατος—ἀναθεῖν εἰς θεόν.

Footnote 254:

γένεσις—γῆ, νεῦσις. Cp. p. 210, l. 6.

Footnote 255:

γενέθλιον—γένεσις ἄθλων.

Footnote 256:

Reading ἂν δὲ ἔρῃ, καὶ σώματος for ἂν δὲ ἔρημαι σώματος. See the
Lex.-Plat. _s.v._ ἔρομαι.

Footnote 257:

e.g. _Od._ 1, 423.

Footnote 258:

τελευτᾶν—τελεῖσθαι.

Footnote 259:

_Od._ 12, 432 foll.

Footnote 260:

_W. and D._ 42.

Footnote 261:

Fr. 122.

ON SUPERSTITION