The concluding portion of this somewhat discursive tract is devoted to a speech by Theon on the question with which the title only has so far dealt, the cessation of the oracle to use verse. Theon, as we have seen, believes that the god inspires the thought, and not the expression, of the Pythia, and his explanation of the change of medium is purely natural, being based upon the general tendency towards prose which early became evident in Greek Literature and Philosophy. Besides, the matters on which the oracle is now consulted are not such as to require the mystery and magnificence of verse.[287] “In these cases it would be absurd to employ the diction, metre, and imagery of poetry, when what is required is a simple and concise reply. It would be like a vain Sophist to turn an oracle finely for the sake of show. The Pythian priestess, moreover, is noble and virtuous in her own character, and when she mounts the tripod and approaches the god, she is more intent on truth than appearance, more regardful of the god’s message than of the praise or blame of men.”[288] “In old days,” continues Theon, “were not wanting those who accused the oracles of uncertainty and ambiguity, and there are now those who accuse them of excessive simplicity. But the ways of such persons are childish and silly: for just as children take more delight in looking at rainbows and aureoles and comets than at the sun and moon, so do these desire enigmas and allegories and metaphors to fill the heart of man with wonder and mystery. In their ignorance of the true reason of the change (in the oracle’s mode of expression), they depart, blaming the god instead of charging the defect to the weakness of our human intellect, which cannot comprehend the purposes of the Deity.”[289]
In this defence of the Deity Theon has apparently committed himself to a view of the manner in which the process of inspiration takes place. “The body employs many organs, while the soul employs the body and its parts. The soul, in like manner, is God’s instrument. Now the virtue of an instrument consists in imitating, subject to its natural limitations, the power that makes use of it, and in exhibiting the thought of that power in operation. This it cannot do to the extent of reproducing the purity and perfection of the Divine Creator, but its work is mixed with alien matter. The Moon reproduces the splendour of the Sun, but in a dim and weak form. These images are representations of the way in which the Pythia reproduces for the service of mankind the thoughts of God.”[290] We may be tempted, while reading this explanation, to assert that Plutarch wishes to maintain that the inspiration of the Pythia by the Deity is direct. But these illustrations are intended only to explain why the Pythian verses are not divinely perfect. They come through a human soul, which has the weakness of an instrument, and is prevented by its limitations from expressing the purity and beauty of the divine thought. The manner of this inspiration is more fully discussed in the following dialogue, the “De Defectu Oraculorum.”
This tract is in the form of a letter addressed to Terentius Priscus, and although the person speaking as “I” in the dialogue is alluded to as “Lamprias”[291] by the other speakers, it is clearly Plutarch himself who is modestly represented under this guise. After a warning, characteristic of Plutarch both as regards its purport and the manner in which it is conveyed (by means of a historical reminiscence), that these questions are not to be tested “like a painting by the touch,” the writer brings a party of philosophers together at Delphi “shortly before the Pythian games held under Callistratus.” Two of these philosophers are already known to us. Like the eagles or swans of the ancient legend they had met at Delphi coming from opposite quarters of the globe;[292] Demetrius, of Tarsus, returning home from Britain, and Cleombrotus, of Lacedæmon, from prolonged journeyings by land and sea, in Egypt and the East. Cleombrotus, being possessed of a competence, employed his means and his leisure in travel, for the purpose of accumulating evidence to form the basis of that branch of philosophy whose end and aim, as he expressed it, was Theology.[293] A preliminary discussion takes place respecting the “everlasting lamp” which Cleombrotus had been shown in the Temple of Ammon, a discussion involving abstract consideration of Mathematics and Astronomy. In this conversation, Plutarch’s three favourite characters, doubtlessly representing three common types of the day, are again depicted in the pious belief of Cleombrotus, the scepticism of Demetrius, and the judicial pose of the Academic Ammonius. The mention of the Temple of Ammon naturally leads Plutarch to raise the question of the present silence of that famous oracle.[294] Demetrius diverts this particular topic into a general inquiry respecting the comparative failure of oracles all the world over.[295] Bœotia, for example, once so renowned in this respect, suffers from an almost total drought of oracular inspiration. While Demetrius is speaking, the party—Demetrius, Cleombrotus, Ammonius, and Plutarch—had walked from the shrine towards the “doors of the Hall of the Cnidians,[296] and,” proceeds Plutarch, “entering therein we came upon our friends sitting down and waiting for us.” Demetrius playfully suggests that their listless attitude and idle expression do not indicate attention to any important subject of discussion; but Heracleon of Megara retorts sharply upon the grammarian that people who try to solve trifling questions of grammar and philology naturally contract their brows and contort their features;[297] but there are subjects of importance which people discuss with their eyebrows composed in their natural way. “Such,” amiably replies Cleombrotus, “such is the subject we now propose to discuss;” and, the two groups having joined company, he proceeds to explain the topic to his hearers. His observations excite the cynic Didymus, surnamed Planetiades, in a remarkable manner.[298] Striking his cynic’s staff upon the ground, he inveighs against the wickedness of the times, and wonders that the Divine Providence has not gathered up its oracles on every side and taken its departure long ago, like the Aidos and Nemesis of Hesiod. “I would suggest for your discussion the question why some god has not repeated the feat of Hercules and shattered the tripod, filled to overflowing, as it has been, with disgraceful and atheistical requests. Some of us have questioned the god as if he were a sophist, anxious to show off his rhetorical skill. Some of us have appealed to him about riches and treasures; some about legacies; some about unlawful marriages. Surely Pythagoras was utterly wrong when he said that men were at their best when approaching the gods. Do we not expose, naked and unashamed, to the eyes of the god such vices and diseases of the soul as we should shun mentioning even in the presence of an old and experienced man?”[299] He was going to add more, when Heracleon twitched his cloak, “but I,” writes Plutarch, “being on more familiar terms with him than were the others, said to him, ‘My dear Planetiades, cease your efforts to provoke a god who is really amiable and gentle, and who has been, as Pindar says,
“Adjudged exceeding mild to mortal men.”
And whether he is the sun, or lord and father of the sun and of the whole perceptible world, it is not right to believe that he would deprive the men of to-day of the help of his utterances, for he is the author and supporter of our life, and the master of our intelligence. Nor is it reasonable to suppose that Providence, which, like a kind and tender mother, has given us all that we possess, should wish to punish us in one single point alone—by taking away from us that prophetic aid which was once given to us. Just as if the wicked were not as numerous when the oracles were firmly established in many parts of the earth! Sit down again, and, in honour of the Pythian games, make a truce for once with vice, which you are always eager to chastise, and help us to find out the cause of the failure of the oracles.’ The only result of my remarks was that Planetiades went out-of-doors in silence.[300] After a brief silence, Ammonius turned to me and said, ‘Come, Lamprias, we must be careful not to deprive the god of all agency in this matter. For if we maintain that the cessation of the oracles is due to any other cause than the will of God, we can hardly escape the conclusion that their foundation also was not His work. If the prophetic power of the oracles is, indeed, the work of God, we can imagine no greater or stronger power than that required to destroy it. Planetiades’ remarks were displeasing to me, particularly on account of the inconstancy which he attributes to God in His attitude towards men’s wickedness, now punishing and now protecting it, as if God were some king or tyrant excluding vicious men at one door while welcoming and rewarding them at another. We ought to start with the principle that God’s action is always marked by an adaptation of means to ends, that He does not furnish an excess of what is not required, and should then observe that Greece has shared in a particular degree that general depopulation which wars and revolutions have effected in all parts of the world, to such an extent, indeed, that the whole of Greece could now barely furnish the 3000 hoplites which were Megara’s contingent to Platæa.[301] If we were to do this we should accurately display our own judgment; for how could the god leave his oracles with us for the mere purpose of marking the desolation of our land? For who would be the better if its ancient oracle were still left to Tegyra, or at Ptoum, where after searching whole days you can hardly find a single herdsman tending his cattle? Even this most ancient and famous oracle at Delphi is related to have been for a long period reduced to a state of desolation and inaccessibility by a terrible monster in the shape of a serpent. But this desolation is not rightly explained. The solitude brought the serpent, not the serpent the solitude. But when, in the great purpose of God, Greece again grew strong in its cities, and the land was replenished with mankind, the temple was served by two priestesses, who took alternate duties on the tripod, and a third was appointed to be available in case of emergency. But now there is but one Pythia; and her we find enough for all our needs. For the prophetic inspiration that yet remains is sufficient to send all comers away with their requirements satisfied. Agamemnon employed nine heralds; and even so he was hard put to it to control the assembly of the Greeks, so numerous it was. But within a few days you will have an opportunity of observing that one voice will easily reach the ears of everybody in the Theatre here. In a similar manner the prophetic influence of the god issued by a greater number of voices when the population was greater. But as things at present are, the real cause for astonishment would be that the god should allow the prophetic agency to waste like water, or his voice to sound in vain like the cries of shepherds and sheep re-echoing among the rocky solitudes.’[302] Ammonius ceased, and I remained silent. But Cleombrotus, turning to me, said: ‘Was it not you who, just now, maintained that it is the god himself who not only gives, but also takes away the oracles?’ ‘No, indeed,’ replied I, ‘on the contrary, I assert that the god has taken away neither oracle nor sacred shrine. But just as the god bestows upon us many other things which are subject to decay and destruction by natural processes—or, rather, the original substance, containing a principle of change and movement in its own nature, often dissolves itself and reshapes itself without the intervention of the original creator—so in like manner, I think, the oracles undergo darkenings and declines, being included in the truth of the statement that the god bestows many fair gifts on men, but not one of them to last for ever; or, as Sophocles has it, “the gods immortal are, but not their works”’”—“The foundation of oracles is rightly assigned to God,” continues Plutarch, “but the law of their existence and its operation we must seek for in nature and in matter. For it is nothing but the most childish folly to look upon God as a sort of ventriloquist: like the fellows once called Eurycleis and nowadays Pythons, inserting Himself into the bodies of the prophets, using their mouths and vocal chords as instruments of His messages. For he who puts God into this personal contact with human weaknesses and necessities, sins against His glory, and deprives Him of the excellence and grandeur of His Virtue.” This strong insistence upon the splendour of the Divine Nature is, as we know, one of the most characteristic elements of Plutarch’s philosophy, and, so long as he can preserve this intact, he is not careful of consistency in his arguments on less important points of doctrine. We have seen him shrinking in conversation from too close an identification with Rationalism; and we are also prepared to find him giving importance to a view which introduces a supernatural element even into the operation of secondary causes. Hence Cleombrotus is represented as saying how difficult it is to draw the line exactly at the direct interposition of Providence in human affairs; since those who exclude God from second causes, and those who see Him everywhere, are equally in error. Hence the pious student of Theology is permitted to give a full exposition of the doctrines of Dæmonology as applied to the question of Oracles and Inspiration. “Plato delivered Philosophy from many difficulties when he discovered Matter as the substratum of phenomenal qualities; but those who invented the science of Dæmonology have solved greater difficulties still.” We are already familiar with the nature and activities of the Dæmons; it remains to see how their existence is applied to the question under discussion. “Let us not listen,” says Cleombrotus, “to those who say that oracles are not divinely inspired, or that religious rites and ceremonies are disregarded by the gods: nor, on the other hand, let us approve of the view that God is actively, personally, and directly concerned in these matters; but let us believe that the Dæmons are superintendents of, and participators in, the sacred sacrifices and mysteries, justly assigning these functions to Lieutenants of the gods, as it were to Servants and Secretaries, while others go about and punish great and notorious acts of injustice.”[303] This belief, in the opinion of Cleombrotus, furnishes an explanation of the silent periods of the oracles. “I am not afraid to say, as many others have said before me, that when the Dæmons who have been appointed to administer prophetic shrines and oracles leave them finally, then the shrines and oracles finally decline. If these guardians flee and go elsewhither, and then return after a long interval, the oracles, silent during their absence, become again, as of old, the means of conveying responses to those who come to consult them.” “But,” says Demetrius, “it is impossible to assert that the oracles are silent owing to their desertion by the Dæmons, unless we are first reassured respecting the method by which the Dæmons, when in actual superintendence of the oracles, make them actively inspired.”[304] Plutarch here introduces a rationalistic argument imputing prophetic inspiration to subterrestrial exhalations, and draws down upon himself the reproof from Ammonius that he has followed up the abstraction of Divination from the gods by now depriving the Dæmons of that power and referring it to “exhalations, winds, and vapours.” Plutarch, however, though adhering to Rationalism to the extent of insisting on the operation of secondary causes, saves his piety by explicitly placing them under the superintendence of the Dæmons. “There are two causes of generation: the Zeus of the ancient poets and theologians, and the physical causes of the natural philosophers. The study of either of these sets of causes, to the exclusion of the other, leads to defective philosophy. But he who first made use of both these principles, combining creative Reason with created Matter, freed us from fear of criticism either on the ground of impiety or unreason. For we deprive prophetic inspiration neither of God nor of Reason when we allow as its material the human soul, and assign as its instrument the inspiring exhalation.[305] The Earth, indeed, breeds these exhalations, but he that implants in the earth its tempering and transforming power—I mean the Sun—is regarded as a god in our ancestral religion. Then, if we leave the Dæmons as presidents and attendants and guardians, to secure the due harmonizing of the various elements of the inspiring exhalation, now slackening and now tightening it, now restraining its excessive power of phrensy and confusion, and gently tempering its stimulating force so that it becomes harmless and painless to those under its influence—if we adopt these views, we shall be in perfect harmony with reason and possibility.”[306]
The one thing that is conspicuously evident throughout these discussions on important questions of Religion is the earnest sincerity with which they are universally approached. We notice everywhere that combination of piety with philosophy, which is characteristic of Plutarch’s own genius, and which appears to be no less characteristic of the society in which he constantly moves. Even the Epicurean Boethus, an excellent man with his witty stories and courtly compliments, finds it somehow in his power to defend the dignity of the prophetic God against those who would “mix Him up with every piece of stone or brass,” while those who are most solicitously inclined to a pious reverence of the ancient faith—Serapion for a prominent example—never for long forget that spirit of critical detachment proper to the inquiring philosopher.[307] “There is no one here present,” says Heracleon,“who is profane and uninitiated, and holds views of the gods inconsistent with our own; but we must take care that we ourselves do not unconsciously admit absurd and far-reaching hypotheses in support of our arguments.”[308] But it is Plutarch himself who, shunning the “falsehood of extremes,” most conspicuously represents this spirit of compromise. It is Theon-Plutarch who finds a middle way between the views of Boethus and those of Serapion on the subject of prophecy, and it is Lamprias-Plutarch who, knowing that these things involve many contentions and are open to numerous contradictions, combines the belief in an original divine inspiration, with a recognition of the scientific importance of subsidiary causes, moving unchecked in the sphere of Nature. “The power of the exhalation which inspires the Pythia is in truth divine and dæmonic, but it is not exempt from the operation of causes that bring silence, age, decay and destruction on all that lives between the earth and moon.”[309] Plutarch here strikes with clear emphasis a note not out of harmony with the spirit of modern Theology; and had he pushed this view to its logical conclusion, as the Epicurean Boethus[310] did, the Dæmons would have disappeared, and their places would have been wholly occupied by natural causes operating under the Divine impetus inspired by the great First Cause. But the necessity for a personality, human on one aspect, Divine on the other, to stand between God and man, was too strongly felt by Plutarch to enable him to accept without qualification the conclusions of pure rationalism. The blank between the Creator and His creatures is occupied, therefore, partly by natural causes, partly by the Dæmons, whose existence and mode of operation are now involved in the working of natural causes regarded as under their superintendence, and now appear as supernatural agencies vaguely dependent upon the will of the Supreme Power.
CHAPTER VIII.
Sincerity of Plutarch’s belief in Dæmons—Function of the Dæmons as Mediators not confined to oracular inspiration—Dæmons in their personal relationship with the human soul—The De Dæmonio Socratis—This tract not a formal treatise on Demonology—Various explanations of the Socratic “Dæmon”—Ethical value of the conception of Dæmons as spiritual guardians of individual men—“Men may rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things”—Dangers of the conception—Superstition: Plutarch’s general attitude towards that Vice.