Consolatio ad Apollonium

Plutarch

Plutarch. Plutarch's Morals, Vol. I. Goodwin, William W., editor; Morgan, Matthew, translator. Boston: Little, Brown, and Company; Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son, 1874.

But it is objected, the calamity was sudden, and I did not expect it. But thou oughtest to have done it, and considered the vanity and uncertainty of human affairs, that thy enemies might not have come suddenly upon thee and taken thee unawares. Theseus in Euripides seems to be excellently well prepared for events of this nature, for he saith thus—

  1. This wholesome precept from the wise I learn,
  2. To think of misery without concern.
  3. My meditating thoughts are always spent
  4. Either on death or else on banishment.
  5. Foresight of evils doth employ my mind,
That me without defence they may not find; And though in ambuscade the mischief lies, Kill me it may, but shall not me surprise.[*](See the Latin version in Cicero, Tusc III. 14, 29.) But those who are of a degenerate and thoughtless spirit never apply their mind to any thing that is either useful or becoming; but they grow exorbitant in their sorrows, and afflict the innocent body, making it sick for company, as Achaeus expresseth it.

Therefore Plato[*](Plato, Repub. X. p. 604 B.) doth rightly instruct us to acquiesce in cases of this nature, when it is not manifest whether they be good or evil, and when we get nothing by being uneasy under them; for grief is the greatest obstacle to deliberation as to what is best to be done. Therefore he commands us, as in the casting of dice, to accommodate ourselves to what befalls us, in the way which reason shows us to be best; and when any thing ails us, not to imitate the folly of children, who presently cry out and clap their hands to the place affected, but to accustom our minds to seek at once for remedies which may restore the part that is diseased to its first tone of health, making lamentation give place to the healing art. He that instituted laws for the Lycians commanded the citizens that when they mourned they should put on women’s apparel, intimating thereby that sorrow was an effeminate thing, and therefore was not fit for men of temper and liberal education. For it is indeed a weak and unmanly passion, and women are more subject to it than men, the barbarians more than the Greeks, and the dregs of mankind more than the refined part of them; and even amongst the barbarians, the bravespirited Celts and Gauls have not a propensity to it, or any that have generous sentiments; but the Egyptians, the Syrians, and the Lydians, and those who resemble them n the softness of their disposition. They report that some f these will hide themselves in retirements under ground,

and refuse to behold that sun of which their lamented friend is deprived. Ion, the tragedian, who heard something of this extravagance, introduceth a person speaking after this manner:—
  1. Your blooming children’s nurse, I have come forth
  2. A suppliant from tlle caves where I have mourned.
Some of these barbarians have deformed their bodies by cutting off their noses, ears, and other parts of themselves, thinking to gratify the dead by these mutilations, when in doing so they deviated excessively from that moderation which Nature prescribes us.

And, by Jove, we meet with some persons who affirm that the death of every one is not to be lamented, but only of those who die untimely; for they have not tasted of those things which we call enjoyments in the world, as a nuptial bed, proficiency in learning, the coming up to an height in any thing, the honor of magistracy and charges in the government. It is for the sake of these things that we condole with those who lose friends by untimely death, because they were frustrated of their hopes; but in the meanwhile we are ignorant that a sudden death doth not at all differ from any other, considering the condition of human nature. For as when a journey is enjoined into a remote country, and there is a necessity for every one to undertake it, and none hath liberty to refuse, though some go before and others follow, yet all must arrive at the same stage at last; so when we all lie under an obligation of discharging the same debt, it is not material whether we pay sooner or later. But if any one’s death may be called untimely, and consequently an evil, that appellation suits only with that of children and infants, and especially of those who are newly born. But this we bear steadfastly and with patience; but when those that are grown up die, we take on heavily, because we fondly hoped that when their years were full blown they would then have an uninterrupted

state of health. Now if the age of man were limited to the space of twenty years, we should not think that he who had arrived to fifteen died an untimely death, but that he had filled up a just measure of living; but one that had attained twenty, or at least had approached very near it, we should applaud for his good fortune, as if he had enjoyed the most happy and perfect life in the world. So if life were prolonged to two hundred years as its fixed period, and any one died at a hundred, we should howl over him as if he had been hastily cut off.

It is manifest then, by what hath been said now and what hath been mentioned before, that the death we call untimely is capable of consolation; and the saying is true, that Troilus wept less than Priam, [*](Μεῖον Τρωῖλος ἐδάκρυσεν ἢ Πρίαμος is a saying of Callimachus, as we learn from Cicero, Tusc. I. 39: Quanquam non male ait Callimachus, multo saepius lacrimasse Priamum quam Troilum. ) perishing as he did in his youth, while his father’s kingdom flourished and his riches abounded, which Priam afterwards laments as most deplorably lost. For observe what he saith to his son Hector, when he entreats him to decline the battle he was going to fight against Achilles:—

  1. Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the wall;
  2. And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all!
  3. Save thy clear life; or, if a soul so brave
  4. Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save.
  5. Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs;
  6. While yet thy father feels the woes he bears,
  7. Yet curst with sense! a wretch whom in his rage
  8. All trembling on the verge of helpless age
  9. Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of pain!
  10. The bitter dregs of Fortune’s cup to drain:
  11. To fill with scenes of death his closing eyes,
  12. And number all his days by miseries!
  13. My heroes slain, my bridal bed o’erturn’d,
  14. My daughters ravish’d, and my city burn’d,
  15. My bleeding infants dash’d against the floor;
  16. These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more!
  17. Perhaps even I, reserved by angry Fate,
  18. The last sad relic of my ruin’d state,
  19. (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness!) must fall,
  20. And stain the pavement of my regal hall;
  21. Where famish’d dogs, late guardians of my door,
  22. Shall lick their mangled master’s spatter’d gore.
  23. But when the Fates, in fulness of their rage,
  24. Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age,
  25. In dust the reverend lineaments deform,
  26. And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm:
  27. This, this is misery! the last, the worst,
  28. That man can feel,—man, fated to be cursed!
  29. He said, and acting what no words can say,
  30. Rent from his head the silver locks away.
  31. With him the mournful mother bears a part;
  32. Yet all her sorrows turn not Hector’s heart.
  33. [*](Il. XXII. 56)

Having then so many examples of this kind before thine eyes, thou oughtest to make thyself sensible that not a few have been saved by death from those calamities they would certainly have fallen into had they lived longer. Contenting myself with those I have related already, I will omit the rest, that I may not seem tedious; and these are sufficient to show that we ought not to abandon ourselves to violent sorrow, beyond temper and the bounds of nature.

Crantor saith, To be innocent is the greatest comfort in afflictions. I assent to him, and affirm that it is the noblest remedy. Besides, the indication of our love to the deceased consists not in grieving ourselves for him, but in paying respect to his fame by honorable remembrance. For no good man deserves elegies, but panegyrics; and we should rather celebrate his loss by an honorable remembrance, than lament it; and offer up rather first-fruits of joy to the Gods, and not tears which sorrow extorts from us. For he who ceaseth to be amongst men becomes partaker of a divine life, is free from the servitude of the body, and all those solicitous cares which they who are embarrassed with a mortal life of necessity must undergo till they have finished the course which Providence hath marked out for them; and this life Nature hath not given us as a perpetual possession, but hath clogged it with restrictions and conditions of fate.

Those therefore who are the masters of their reason ought not to be transported by the death of friends beyond the limits of nature and a just moderation unto unprofitable and barbarous complaints, and so wait till that comes upon them which hath happened to many, to have their vital moisture exhausted before their tears, and to be carried to their own graves in those mourning weeds they put on for others, where their sorrow must lie buried with those evils they provoked upon themselves by their own imprudence. To whom that of Homer may be appositely applied:—

  1. Whilst others they lament with weeping eyes,
  2. The darkness of the night doth them surprise.
  3. [*](See Il. XXIII. 109; Odyss. I. 423.)

Wherefore in this case we should often thus reason with ourselves: Shall we put an end to our sorrow, or shall we grieve all the days of our life? To make it infinite is the last degree of infatuation; for we have seen those who have been in the deepest circumstances of dejection to be so mitigated by time, that they have banqueted upon those tombs which before they could not endure the sight of without screeching out and beating their breasts, but which they can now dance round with music and all the postures of jollity. Therefore to be obstinate in our grief is the resolution of madness. If then thou hast purposed within thyself that it shall have an end, join this consideration with it, that time will assuage it too; for what is once done even the Deity himself cannot unravel; therefore that which hath happened to us beyond our hope and contrary to our opinion hath palpably shown us what is wont from the same causes to befall others. What’s the result then? Cannot any discipline teach us, nor cannot we reason with ourselves, that—

  1. The earth with evils doth abound;
  2. As many in the sea are found?
  3. [*](Hesiod, Works and Days, 94.)
And thus likewise:—
  1. The Fates have so encompassed men with ills,
  2. That even the wind can find no entrance?

For many, as Crantor tells us, and those very wise men, not now but long ago have deplored the condition of human nature, esteeming life a punishment, and to be born a man the highest pitch of calamity; this, Aristotle tells us, Silenus declared when he was brought captive to Midas. I think it best to quote the expressions of the philosopher himself, in his book entitled Eudemus, or Of the Soul, wherein he speaks after this manner:—

Wherefore, thou best and happiest of mankind, if we think those blessed and happy who have departed this life, then it is not only unlawful but even blasphemy to speak any thing that is false or contumelious of them, since they are now changed into a better and more refined nature. And this my opinion is so old, that the original and author of it is utterly unknown; but it hath been derived down to us even from eternity, so established is the truth of it. Besides, thou seest what is so familiar in men’s mouths, and hath been for many years a trite expression. What is that, saith he? He answered him: It is best not to be born at all; and next to that, it is more eligible to die than to live; and this is confirmed even by divine testimony. Pertinently to this they say that Midas, after hunting, asked his captive Silenus somewhat urgently, what was the most desirable thing amongst men. At first he would return no answer, but was obstinately silent. At last, when Midas would not give over importuning him, he broke out into these words, though very unwillingly: Thou seed of an evil genius and precarious offspring of hard fortune, whose life is but for a day, why dost thou compel me to tell thee those things it is better thou wert ignorant of? For those live the least disturbed who know not their misfortunes; but for men, the best for them is not to be

born at all, nor to be made partakers of the most excellent nature; not to be is best for both sexes. This should have the first place in our choice; and the next to this is, when we are born, to die as soon as we can. It is plain therefore, that he declared the condition of the dead to be better than that of the living.

I could bring millions of examples to justify this topic, but I will not be long.

We are not therefore to lament those who die in the bloom of their years, as if they were spoiled of things which we call enjoyments in a longer life; for it is uncertain, as we have often said, whether they are deprived of good or evil, for the evil in the world far exceeds the good. The good we obtain hardly and with anxious endeavor, but the evil easily befalls us; for they say evils are linked together, and by a mutual dependence of causes follow one another, but the good lie scattered and disjoined, and with great difficulty are brought within the compass of our life. Therefore we seem to have forgot our condition; for not only is it true, as Euripides hath it, that

  1. The things we do possess are not our own;
  2. [*](Eurip. Phoeniss. 555.)
but in general no man can claim a strict propriety in any thing he hath:—
  1. When Gods do riches lend, it is but just
  2. That when they please we should resign our trust.
We ought not therefore to take it amiss if they demand those things which they lent us only for a small time; for even your common brokers, unless they are unjust, will not be displeased if they are called upon to refund their pawns, and if one of them is not altogether so ready to deliver them, thou mayst say to him without any injury, Hast thou forgot that thou receivedst them upon the condition to restore them? The same parity of reason holds amongst all men. The Gods have put life into our hands by a fatal
necessity, and there is no prefixed time when what is so deposited will be required of us, as the brokers know not when their pawns will be demanded. If therefore any one is angry when he is dying himself, or resents the death of his children, is it not very plain, that he hath forgot that he himself is a man and that he hath begotten children as frail as himself? For a man that is in his wits cannot be ignorant that he is a mortal creature, and born to this very end that he must die. If Niobe, as it is in the fable, had had this sentence always at hand, that she must at length die, and could not
  1. In the ever-flowering bloom of youth remain,
  2. Nor loaded with children, like a fruitful tree,
  3. Behold the sun’s sweet light,—
she would never have sunk to such a degree of desperation as to desire to throw off her life to ease the burthen of her sorrow, and call upon the Gods to hurry her into the utmost destruction. There are two sentences inscribed upon the Delphic oracle, hugely accommodated to the usages of man’s life, KNOW THYSELF, and NOTHING TOO MUCH; and upon these all other precepts depend. And they themselves accord and harmonize with each other, and each seems to illustrate the energy of the other; for in Know thyself is included Nothing too much; and so again in the latter is comprised Know thyself. And Ion hath spoken of it thus:—
  1. This sentence, Know thyself, is but a word;
  2. But only Jove himself could do the thing.
And thus Pindar:—
  1. This sentence briet, Do nothing to excess,
  2. Wise men have always praised exceedingly.

He therefore that hath these impressed upon his mind as the precepts of the Pythian oracle, can easily conform himself to all the affairs of life, and bear them handsomely; considering his nature, so that he is neither lifted up to arrogance upon a prosperous event, nor when

an adverse happens, is dejected into complaint through pusillanimity and that fear of death which is so congenial to us; both which proceed from the ignorance of those things which fall out in human life by necessity and fatal decree. The Pythagoreans speak handsomely to this purpose—
  1. Against those evils thou shouldest not repine,
  2. Which are inflicted by the powers divine.
Thus the tragedian Aeschylus:—
  1. He store of wisdom and of virtue hath,
  2. Whom nothing from the Gods provokes to wrath.
Euripides thus:—
  1. He that is passive when the Fates command
  2. Is wise, and all the Gods doth understand.
In another place so:—
  1. He that can bear those things which men befall,
  2. Him wise and modest we may justly call.

But many there are who blame all things; and whatsoever unexpectedly happens to them, they think is procured them by the malignity of Fortune and the spite of some evil genius. Wherefore they are querulous and cry out upon every occasion, inveighing against the bitterness of their mishaps. Their complaints we may not unfitly obviate with this expression,—

  1. The Gods do hurt thee not, but thou thyself,—
even thou thyself through perverseness and want of good instruction. And by reason of this false and deceiving opinion they accuse any kind of death; for if one die upon his travel, they exclaim after this manner:—
  1. The wretch, his father being absent, dies;
  2. Nor did his aged mother close his eyes.
  3. [*](Il. XI. 452.)
If he die in his own country, with his parents about him, they lament that he is ravished out of their hands, and hath left them nothing but regret for his loss. If he
die silent, giving them no instructions at parting, they complain thus:— His tender dying words I (lid not hear, Which I in my remembrance still should bear.[*](Il. XXIV. 744.) If he spoke any thing before he breathed out his soul, they keep those last accents as fuel to maintain their sorrow still kindled. If he die a sudden death, they cry out that he is snatched away; if chronical pains waste him, they will tell you that the slow distemper hath emaciated him to death. Thus every appearance, take it which way you will, is sufficient to stir up your complaints. These thingsthe poets have introduced, and the chiefest among them, Homer, who sung after this manner:—
  1. As a poor father, helpless and undone,
  2. Mourns o’er the ashes of an only son,
  3. Takes a sad pleasure the last bones to burn,
  4. And pours in tears ere yet they close the urn.
  5. [*](Il. XXIII. 222; XVII. 37.)
And whether these things are justly lamented doth not yet appear. But see what he elsewhere sings:—
  1. Born in his elder years, his only boy,
  2. Who was designed his riches to enjoy.
  3. [*](Il. IX. 482.)

Who knows but that the Deity, with a fatherly providence and out of tenderness to mankind, foreseeing what would happen, hath taken some purposely out of this life by an untimely death? So we should think that nothing has befallen them which they should have sought to shun,— For nought that cometh by necessity is hard,[*](From Euripides.) neither of those things which fall out by a precedent ratiocination or a subsequent. And many by a timely death have been withdrawn from greater calamities; so that it hath been good for some never to have been born at all; for others, that as soon as life hath been blown in it should be extinguished; for some, that they should live a little longer; and for others again, that they should be

cropped in the prime of their youth. These several sorts of deaths should be taken in good part, since Fate is inevitable. Therefore it becomes men well educated to consider that those who have paid their debt to mortality have only gone before us a little time; that the longest life is but as a point in respect of eternity, and that many who have indulged their sorrow to excess have themselves followed in a small while those that they have lamented, having reaped no profit out of their complaints, but macerated themselves with voluntary afflictions. Since then the time of our pilgrimage in this life is but short, we ought not to consume ourselves with sordid grief, and so render ourselves unhappy by afflicting our minds and tormenting our bodies; but we should endeavor after a more manly and rational sort of life, and not associate ourselves with those who will be companions in grief and by flattering our tears will only excite them the more, but rather with those who will diminish our grief by solemn and generous consolation. And we ought to hear and keep in our remembrance those words of Homer wherewith Hector answers Andromache, comforting her after this manner:— Andromache, my soul’s far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till Fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fix’d is the term to all the race of earth, And such the hard condition of our birth: No force can then resist, no flight can save, All sinkalike, the fearful and the brave.[*](Il. VI. 486.) Which the poet expresseth in another place thus: The thread which at his birth for him was spun.[*](Il. XX: 128.)

Having these things fixed in our minds, all vain and fiuitless sorrow will be superseded; the time that we have all to live being but very short, we ought to spare and

husband it, and not lay it out too prodigally upon sorrow, but rather spend it in tranquillity, deserting the mournful colors, and so take care of our own bodies, and consult the safety of those who live with us. It is requisite that we should call to mind what reasons we urged to our kinsmen and friends when they were in the like calamities, when we exhorted them to suffer these usual accidents of life with a common patience, and bear mortal things with humanity; lest being prepared with instructions for other men’s misfortunes, we reap no benefit ourselves out of the remembrance of those consolations, and so do not cure our minds by the sovereign application of reason. For in any thing a delay is less dangerous than in sorrow;, and when by every one it is so tritely said, that he that procrastinates in an affair contests with destruction, I think the character will more fitly sit upon him who defers the removing his troubles and the perturbations of his mind.

We ought also to cast our eyes upon those conspicuous examples who have borne the deaths of their sons generously and with a great spirit; such as were Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, Demosthenes of Athens, Dion of Syracuse, King Antigonus, and many others who have lived either in our times or in the memory of our fathers. They report of Anaxagoras that, when he was reading natural philosophy to his pupils and reasoning with them, sudden news was brought him of the death of his son. He presently stopped short in his lecture, and said this to his auditors, I knew that I begot my son mortal. And of Pericles, who was surnamed Olympius for his wisdom and the strength of his eloquence, when he heard that both his sons were dead, Paralus and Xanthippus, how he behaved himself upon this accident Protagoras tells us in these words. When his sons, saith he, being in the first verdure of their youth and handsome lads, died within eight days, he bore the calamity without any repining; for he was

of a pacific temper, from whence there was every day an accession of advantages towards the making him happy, the being free from grief, and thereby acquiring a great reputation amongst his fellow-citizens. For every one that saw him bear this calamity with so brave a resolution thought him magnanimous, and indeed entertained an higher opinion of him than he strictly deserved; for he was conscious to himself of some weakness and defects in cases of this nature. Now after he had received the news of the death of his sons, he put on a garland according to the custom of his country, and being clothed in white, he made an harangue to the people, was the author of safe and rational counsels, and stirred up the courage of his Athenians to warlike expeditions. Chronicles tell us, that when an express came out of the field to Xenophon the Socratic as he was sacrificing, which acquainted him that his son perished in the fight, he pulled the garland from his head, and enquired after what manner he fell; and it being told him that he died gallantly, making a great slaughter of his enemies, after he had paused awhile to recollect his thoughts and quiet his first emotion of concern with reason, he adorned his head again, finished the sacrifice, and spoke thus to the messengers: I did not make it my request to the Gods, that my son might be immortal or long-lived, for it is not manifest whether this was convenient for him or not, but that he might have integrity in his principles and be a lover of his country; and now I have my desire. Dion of Syracuse, as he was consulting with his friends concerning some affairs, heard a great noise; and crying out and asking what was the matter, he was told the accident, that his son was killed with a fall from the top of the house. He was not at all surprised or astonished at the disaster, but commanded the dead body to be delivered to the women, that they might bury it according to custom. But he went on with his first deliberations, and re-assumed his discourse
in that part where this accident had broken it off. It is said that Demosthenes the orator imitated him upon the loss of his only and dearest daughter; about which Aeschines, thinking to upbraid him, spoke after this manner: Within seven days after the death of his daughter, before he had performed the decencies of sorrow, and paid those common rites to the memory of the deceased, he put on a garland, clothed himself in white, and sacrificed, thereby outraging decency, though he had lost his only daughter, the one which had first called him father.[*](Aeschines against Ctesiphon, § 77.) Thus did Aeschines with the strokes of his oratory accuse Demosthenes, not knowing that he rather deserved a panegyric upon this occasion, when he rejected his sorrow and preferred the love of his country to the tenderness and compassion he ought to have for his relations. King Antigonus, when he heard the death of his son Alcyoneus who was slain in battle, looking steadily upon the messengers of these sad tidings, after a little interval of silence and with a modest countenance, spoke thus: O Alcyoneus, thou hast fallen later than I thought thou wouldst, so brisk wast thou to run upon the thickest of thy enemies, having no regard either to thy own safety or to my admonitions. Every one praiseth these men for the bravery of their spirit, but none can imitate what they have done, through the weakness of their minds which proceeds from want of good instruction. But although there are many examples extant, both in the Greek and Roman stories, of those who have borne the death of their relations not only with decency but courage, I think these that I have related to be a sufficient motive to thee to keep tormenting grief at a distance, and so ease thyself of that labor which hath no profit in it and is all in vain.

For that virtuous men die in the prime of their years by the kindness of the Gods, to whom they are peculiarly

dear, I have already told thee in the former part of my discourse, and will give a short hint of it now, bearing witness to that which is so prettily said by Menander:— He whom the Gods do love dies young.

But perhaps, my dear Apollonius, thou wilt thus object to me: My young Apollonius was blessed by fortune in his life, and I ought first to have died that he might bury me; for this is according to nature. According to our human nature, I confess; but Providence hath other measures, and that supreme order which governs the world is very different; for thy son being now made happy, it was not requisite according to nature that he should tarry in this life longer than the time prefixed him, but that, having consummated the term of his duration, he should perform his fatal journey, Nature recalling him to herself. But he died untimely, youmay say. Upon that account he is the happier, not having been sensible of those evils which are incident to life. For Euripides said truly:—

  1. The time of being here we style amiss;
  2. We call it life, but truly labor ’tis.

Thy Apollonius died in the beautiful flower of his years, a youth in all points perfect, who gained the love, and provoked the emulation of all his contemporaries He was dutiful to his father and mother, obliging to his domestics, was a scholar, and (to comprehend all in a word) he was a lover of mankind. He had a veneration for the old men that were his friends, as if they had been his parents, had an affection for his companions and equals, reverenced his instructors, was hospitable and mild to his guests and strangers, gracious to all, and beloved by all, as well for his attractive countenance as for his lovely affability. Therefore, being accompanied with the applauses of thy piety and his own, he hath only made a digression from this mortal life to eternity, as if he had withdrawn from the entertainment before he grew absurd, and before the staggerings

of drunkenness came upon him, which are incident to a long old age. Now if the sayings of the old philosophers and poets are true, as there is probability to think, that honors and high seats of dignity are conferred upon the righteous after they are departed this life, and if, as it is said, a particular region is appointed for their souls to dwell in, you ought to cherish very fair hopes that your son stands numbered amongst those blest inhabitants.

Of the state of the pious after death, Pindar discourseth after this manner:—

  1. There the sun shines with an unsullied light,
  2. When all the world below is thick with night.
  3. There all the richly scented plants do grow,
  4. And there the crimson-colored roses blow;
  5. Each flower blooming on its tender stalk,
  6. And all these meadows are their evening walk.
  7. There trees peculiarly delight the sense,
  8. With their exhaled perfumes of frankincense.
  9. The boughs their noble burdens cannot hold,
  10. The weight must sink them when the fruit is gold.
  11. Some do the horse unto the manege bring,
  12. Others unto tlle tuneful lute do sing;
  13. There’s plenty to excess of every thing.
  14. The region always doth serene appear,
  15. The sun and pious flames do make it clear,
  16. Where fragrant gums do from the altars rise,
  17. When to the Gods they offer sacrifice.
And proceeding farther, in another lamentation he spake thus concerning the soul:—
  1. Just we that distribution may call,
  2. Which to each man impartially doth fall.
  3. It doth decide the dull contentious strife,
  4. And easeth the calamities of life.
  5. Death doth its efforts on the body spend;
  6. But the aspiring soul doth upwards tend.
  7. Nothing can damp that bright and subtile flame,
  8. Immortal as the Gods from whence it came.
  9. But this sometimes a drowsy nap will take,
  10. When all the other members are awake.
  11. Fancy in various dreams doth to it show,
  12. What punishments unto each crime is due;
  13. What pleasures are reserved for pious deeds,
  14. And with what scourges the incestuous bleeds.

Divine Plato hath spoken many things of the immortality of the soul in that book which he calls his Phaedo; not a few in his Republic, his Menon, and his Gorgias; and hath some scattered expressions in the rest of his dialogues. The things which are written by himin his Dialogue concerning the Soul I will send you by themselves, illustrated with my commentaries upon them, according to your request. I will now only quote those which are opportune and to the present purpose, and they are the words of Socrates to Callicles the Athenian, who was the companion and scholar of Gorgias the rhetorician. For so saith Socrates in Plato:

Hear then, saith he, a most elegant story, which you, 1 fancy, will think to be a fable, but I take it to be a truth, for the things which I shall tell you have nothing but reality in them. Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, as Homer tells us, divided amongst themselves the kingdom which they received by inheritance from their father; but there was a law established concerning men in the reign of Saturn, which was then valid and still remains in force atnongst the Gods, that that mortal which had led a just and pious life should go, when he died, into the fortunate islands of the blest, and there dwell in happiness, free from all misery; but he that had lived impiously and in contempt of the Gods should be shackled with vengeance, and be thrust into that prison which they call Tartarus. In the time of Saturn, and in the first beginning of Jove’s empire, the living judged the living, and that the same day that they were to die; whereupon the decisions of the bench were not rightly managed. Therefore Pluto and his curators under him came out of these fortunate islands, and complained to Jupiter that men were sent to both places who were not worthy. I, saith Jupiter, will take care that this thing be not practised for the future; for the reason that the sentences are now unjustly passed is that the guilty come

clothed to the tribunal, and whilst they are yet alive. For some of profligate dispositions are yet palliated with a beautiful outside, with riches, and titles of nobility; and so when they come to be arraigned, many will offer themselves as witnesses to swear that they have lived very pious lives. The judges are dazzled with these appearances, and they sit upon them too in their robes; so that their minds are (as it were) covered and obscured with eyes and ears, and indeed with the encumbrance of the whole body. The judges and the prisoners being clothed is thus a very great impediment. Therefore in the first place the foreknowledge of death is to be taken away; for now they see the end of their line, and Prometheus has been commanded to see that this be no longer allowed. Next they ought to be divested of all dress and ornament, and come dead to the tribunal. The judge himself is to be naked and dead too, that with his own soul he may view the naked soul of each one so soon as he is dead, when he is now forsaken of his relations, and has left behind him all his gayeties in the other world; and so justice will be impartially pronounced. Deliberating on this with myself before I received your advice, I have constituted my sons judges, Minos and Rhadamanthus from Asia, and Aeacus from Europe; these therefore, after they have departed this life, shall assume their character, and exercise it in the field, and in the road where two ways divide themselves, the one leading to the fortunate islands, and the other to the deep abyss; so Rhadamanthus shall judge the Asians, and Aeacus the Europeans. But to Minos I will grant the authority of a final appeal, that if any thing hath escaped the notice of the others, it shall be subjected to his cognizance, as to the last resort of a supreme judge; that so it may be rightly decided what journey every one ought to take. These are the things, Callicles, which I have heard and think to be true; and I draw this rational inference from them, that
death in my opinion is nothing else but the separation of two things nearly united, which are soul and body. [*](Plat. Gorg. 523 A-524 B.)

These collections, my dear Apollonius, I have joined together with all the accuracy I could, and out of them composed this consolatory letter I now send thee, which is very necessary to dispel thy melancholy humor and put a period to thy sighs. I have paid likewise that deference which became me to the ashes of thy son, who is the darling of the Gods, such an honor being most acceptable to those whom fame hath consecrated to immortality. Thou wilt therefore do handsomely to believe the reasons I have urged to thee, and gratify thy deceased son, by shaking off this unprofitable sorrow, which eats into thy mind and afflicts thy body, and again returning to that course of humor which nature hath chalked out and the former customs of thy life have made familiar to thee. For as, when thy son lived amongst us, he could not without the deepest regret see thee or his mother sad, so now that he is amongst the Gods enjoying the intimacy of their conversation, such a prospect from thence must be much more displeasing. Therefore take up the resolutions of a good and generous man and of one who loved his son, and so extricate thyself, the mother of the lad, thy kinsmen and friends at once from this great infelicity. Betake thyself to a more tranquil sort of life; which, as it will be acceptable to thy son, will also be extremely pleasing to all of us who have that concern for thee that we ought to have.