De Defectu Oraculorum

Plutarch

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

As to the other oppositions which the Stoics make, who should fear them? As when they demand, how it is possible to maintain a fatal destiny and a divide providence, and how it can be otherwise but that we must admit of several Jupiters, when we assert the plurality of worlds. Now if there be an inconveniency in admitting many Jupiters, their opinions will appear far more absurd; for they imagine there are suns, and moons, Apollos, Dianas, and Neptunes innumerable, in innumerable changes and revolutions of worlds. But where is the necessity which lies upon us to grant that there must be many Jupiters if there be many worlds, seeing that each of them may be subject to a sovereign governor of the whole, a God endued with a suitable mind and ability, like to him whom we name the Lord and Father of all things? Or what shall hinder us from asserting that the several worlds must be subject to the providence and destiny of Jupiter, and that he has an eye to all things, directing all, and administering to them the principles, seeds, and causes of all things which are made? For, while we often see here a body composed of several other distinct bodies,—for example,

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the assembly of a town, an army, or a chorus,— in each of which bodies there is life, prudence, and understanding; so it cannot be impossible that, in the whole universe, ten or fifty or a hundred worlds which may be in it should all use the same reason, and all correspond with the same principle. For this order and disposition is very suitable to the Gods; for we must not make them kings of a swarm of bees who never stir out of their hives, or keep them fast imprisoned in matter, like those who affirm the Gods to be certain dispositions of the air, and powers of waters and fire, infused and mixed within, which arise and spring up together with the world, and in time are to be burnt and end with it,—not affording them the liberty of coachmen and pilots, but nailing them down to their bases like statues and images. For they enclose the Gods within matter, and that in so strict a manner as makes them liable to all the changes, alterations, and decays of it.

It is certainly more agreeable to the nature of the Gods to say that they are wholly at liberty, like Castor and Pollux, ready to succor such as are overtaken by bad weather at sea; for when they appear, the winds cease and the waves are calmed. Not that they navigate and are partakers of the same peril; but they only appear in the sky, and the danger is over. Thus do the Gods visit each world, and rule and provide for all things in them. Jupiter in Homer cast not his eyes far from the city of Troy into Thrace, and to the nomad Scythians along the river Ister; but the true Jupiter has several seemly and agreeable passages for his majesty from one world into another, not looking into the infinite vacuum without, nor regarding himself and nothing else, as some have imagined, but weighing the deeds of Gods and men, and the motions and revolutions of the stars. For the Divinity does not hate variety and changes, but takes great pleasure in them, as one may conjecture by the circuits, conversions, and mutations

observable in the heavens. And therefore I conclude that the infinite number of worlds is a chimera, which has not the least probability of truth, and which cannot by any means admit of any God, but must be wholly guided by chance and fortune. Whereas the government and providence of a certain definite number of worlds has nothing in it that seems more laborious and unworthy than that which is employed in the direction of one alone, which is transformed, renewed, and reformed an infinite number of times.

Having said this, I paused. And Philippus immediately cried out: Whether this be certain or not, I will not be too positive; but if we carry God beyond one world, it would more gratify me to know why we should make him the Creator only of five worlds and no more, and what proportion this number bears to that of the worlds, than to know why the word E I was inscribed upon this temple. For this is neither a triangular, a quadrate, a perfect, nor a cubic number, neither does it yield any elegancy to such as are delighted in this kind of sciences. As to what concerns the argument dawn from the number of elements, which Plato seems to have touched upon, it is obscure and improbable, and will not afford this consequence,—that, as there are formed from matter five sorts of regular bodies, which have equal angles and equal sides, and are environed with equal superficies, so there were from the beginning five worlds, made and formed of these five bodies.

Yet Theodorus the Solian, said I, when he reads Plato’s mathematics to his scholars, both keeps to the text and clearly expounds it, when he saith, the pyramid, octahedron, dodecahedron. icosahedron (which Plato lays down as the first bodies) are all beautiful both in their proportions and equalities; Nature cannot contrive and make better than these, nor perhaps so good. Yet they have not all the same constitution and origin; for the least

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and slightest of the five is the pyramid; the greatest, which has most parts, is the dodecahedron; and of the other two, the icosahedron is greater than the octahedron by more than twofold, if you compare their number of triangles. And therefore it is impossible they should be all made at once, of one and the same matter; for the smallest and most subtile have been certainly more pliable to the hand of the workman who moved and fashioned the matter, and consequently were sooner made and shaped, than those which have stronger parts and a greater mass of bodies, and whose composition was more laborious and difficult, like the dodecahedron. Whence it follows that the pyramid was the first body, and not one of the others, which were by nature last produced. Now the way also to avoid this absurdity is to separate and divide matter into five worlds; here the pyramid (for she is the first and most simple), there the octahedron, and there the icosahedron; and out of that which exists first in every one of these the rest draw their original by the concretion of parts, by which every thing is changed into every thing, as Plato himself shows us by examples throughout. But it will suffice us briefly to learn thus much. Air is engendered by the extinction of fire, and the same being subtilized and rarefied produceth fire. Now by the seeds of these two we may find out the passions and transmutations of all. The seminary or beginning of fire is the pyramid, consisting of twenty-four first triangles; and the octahedron is the seminary of the air, consisting of forty-eight triangles of the same kind. So that the one element of air stands upon two of fire, joined together and condensed. And again, one body or element of air is divided into two of fire, which again, becoming thick and hard, is changed into water; so that, throughout, that which comes first into light gives easily birth unto the rest by transmutation. And so it comes to pass, that there is not merely one first principle
of all things; but one thing is so mixed with the origin of another, in the several changes and alterations of nature by motion, that the same name and denomination belong equally to all.

But here Ammonius interrupted him, and said: Notwithstanding that those things are so peremptorily and so pompously asserted by Theodorus, yet I shall wonder if he be not forced to make use of such suppositions as are destructive of themselves and one of another. For he will have it, that the five worlds he speaks of were not composed all at one time, but that that which was subtilest, and which gave least trouble in the making, came out first into being. And as if it were a consequent, and not a repugnant thing, he supposes that the matter does not always drive out into existence that which is most subtile and simple, but that sometimes the thickest, grossest, and heaviest parts do anticipate the more subtile in generation. But besides this, supposing that there be five primitive bodies or elements, and consequently that there be as many worlds, there are but four of those orders which he discourses rationally concerning. For as to the cube, he takes it away and removes it, as it were in a game of counters; for it is naturally unfit either to turn into any thing besides itself, or to yield that any of those other bodies be converted into it, inasmuch as the triangles of which they consist be not of the same sort. For all the rest consist in common of demi-triangles (or halves of equilateral triangles); but the proper subject of which the cube is particularly composed is the right isosceles triangle, which admits no inclination to a demi-triangle, nor can possibly be united and incorporated with it. If there be then five bodies, and consequently five worlds, and in each of these worlds the principle of generation be that body which is first produced, it must happen that, where the cube is the first in generation, none of the rest can possibly be produced, it being

contrary to its nature to change into any of them. Not to insist here, that Theodorus and those of his mind make the element or principle of which the dodecahedron is composed to be different from the rest, it not being that triangle which is termed scalene, with three unequal sides, out of which the pyramid, octahedron, and icosahedron, according to Plato, are produced; so that (said Ammonius laughing) you must solve these objections, or offer something new concerning the matter in debate.[*](See Plato’s discussion of triangles and the regular solids, Timaeus, pp. 53 C-56 C, with the commentaries See also Grote’s Plato, Vol. III. p. 269. (G.))

And I answered him, that, for my part, I knew not at present how to say any thing which carried more probability. But perhaps (said I) it is better for a man to give an account of his own opinion than of another’s. Therefore I say that, there being supposed from the beginning of things two several natures contrary to each other,— the one sensible, mutable, subject to generation, corruption, and change every way, the other spiritual and intelligible, and abiding always in the same state,—it would be very strange, my friends, to say that the spiritual nature admitteth of division and hath diversity and difference in it, and to be angry if a man will not allow the passible and corporeal nature to be wholly united in itself, without dividing it into many parts. For it is most suitable to the permanent and divine natures to be tied and linked to each other, and to avoid, as much as is possible, all division and separation; and yet, amongst incorporeal natures the power of diversity works greater differences in regard to essential forms and reason, than those of distance of place in the corporeal world. And therefore Plato, refuting those who hold this proposition, that all is one, asserts these five grounds and principles of all,—entity, identity, diversity, motion, and rest; which five immaterial principles being admitted, it is no marvel if Nature have made every one of

these to be an imitation, though not exact, yet as perfect and agreeable as could be drawn, of a correspondent principle in the corporeal mystery, partaking, as much as can be, of its power and virtue. For it is very plain that the cube is most proper and agreeable to repose and rest, by reason of the stability and firmness of those plain surfaces of which it consists. And as to the pyramid, everybody soon sees and acknowledges the nature of fire in it, by the slenderness of its decreasing sides, and the sharpness of its angles; and the nature of the dodecahedron, apt to comprehend all the other figures, may seem more properly to be the corporeal image of Ens, or Being in the general, indifferent to this or that particular form or shape. And of the other two which remain, the icosahedron resembleth the principle of diversity, and the octahedron principally partakes of the identical nature. And thus from one of these the air is produced, which partakes of and borders upon every substance, under one and the same outward form and appearance; and the other has afforded us the element of water, which by mixture may put on the greatest diversity of qualities. Therefore if Nature requires a certain uniformity and harmony in all things, it must be then that there are neither more nor fewer worlds in the corporeal nature than there are patterns or samples in the incorporeal, to the end that each pattern or sample in the invisible nature may have its own primary position and power, answering to a secondary or derivative in the different constitution or composition of bodies.

And this may serve for an answer to those that wonder at our dividing Nature, subject to generation and alteration, into so many kinds. But I entreat you all further, attentively to consider with yourselves that, of the two first and supreme principles of all things,—that is to say, the unity, and the indefinite binary or duality,—this latter, being the element and chief origin of all deformity and disorder,

is termed infinity, and on the contrary, the nature of unity, determining and limiting the void infinity, which has no proportion nor termination, reduces it into form, and renders it in some manner capable of receiving a denomination which belongs only to sensible and particular things. Now these two general principles appear first in number; for the multitude is indeed no number, unless a certain form of the matter resulting out of indeterminate infinity is cut off, and bounded within respective limits, either shorter or longer. For then each multitude is made number, when once it is determined and limited by unity; whereas, if we take away unity, then the indeterminate duality brings all into confusion, and renders it without harmony, without number or measure. Now, the form not being the destruction of matter, but rather the order and the beauty of it, both these principles therefore must be within number, from whence ariseth the chief disparity and greatest difference. For the infinite and indeterminate principle is the cause of the even number; and the other better principle, which is the unity, is the father (as it were) of the odd number. So that the first even number is two, and the first odd number is three; of which is composed five by conjunction, which is by its composition common to both, but of power or nature not even but odd. For, since sensible and corporeal nature is divided into several parts, on account of its inborn necessity of diversity, it was necessary that the number of these parts should not be either the first even number, nor yet the first uneven or odd, but a third, consisting of both; to the end that it might be procreated out of both principles, viz. of that which causeth the even number, and of that which produceth the odd; for the one cannot be parted from the other, inasmuch as both have the nature, power, and force of a principle. These two principles being then joined together, the better one being mightier prevails over the indeterminate
infinity or duality, which divideth the corporeal nature; and thus the matter being divided, the unity interposing itself between has hindered the universe from being divided and parted into two equal portions. But there has been a multitude of worlds caused by the diversity and disagreement of the infinite Nature; but this multitude was brought into an odd number by the virtue and power of identity, or the finite principle; and it was therefore odd, because the better principle would not suffer Nature to stretch itself further than was fitting. For if there had been nothing but pure and simple unity, the matter would have known no separation; but being mixed with the dividing nature of duality, it has by this means suffered separation and division; yet it has stopped here, by the odd numbers being the superior and master to the even.

This is the reason why the ancients were used to express numbering or reckoning by πεμπάσασθαι, to count by fives. And I am of opinion that that word πάντα, all, is derived from πέντε, which is to say five, five being compounded of the first numbers. For all the other numbers being afterwards multiplied by others, they produce numbers different from themselves; whereas five, being multiplied by an even number, produceth a perfect ten, and multiplied by an odd number, representeth itself again; not to insist that it is composed of the two first tetragons or quadrate numbers (unity and four), and that, being the first number whose square is equivalent to the two squares before it, it composeth the fairest of right angled triangles, and is the first number which containeth the sesquilateral proportion. Perhaps all these reasons are not very pertinent to the discourse of the present dispute, it being better to allege that in this number there is a natural virtue of dividing, and that nature divideth many things by this number. For in ourselves she has placed five senses, and five parts of the soul, the vital, the sensitive, the concupiscible,

the irascible, and the rational; and as many fingers on each hand; and the most fruitful seed disperseth itself but into five, for we read nowhere of a woman that brought forth more than five at a birth. And the Egyptians also tell us that the Goddess Rhea was delivered of five Gods, giving us to understand in covert terms that of the same matter were procreated five worlds. And in the universe, the earth is divided into five zones, the heaven into five circles,—two arctics, two tropics, and one equinoctial in the midst. There are five revolutions of planets or wandering stars, inasmuch as the Sun, Venus, and Mercury make but one and the same revolution. And the construction of the world consists of an harmonical measure; even as our musical chords consist of the posture of five tetrachords, ranged orderly one after another, that is to say, those called ὑπάτων, μέσων, συνημμένων, διεζευγμένων, and ὑπερβολαίων.[*](See note prefixed to Plutarch’s Treatise on Music. (G.)) The intervals also which are used in singing are five, diesis, semitone, tone, the tone and a half, and the double tone; so that Nature seems to delight more in making all things according to the number five, than she does in producing them in a spherical form, as Aristotle writeth.

But it will perhaps be demanded, why Plato refers the number of worlds to the five regular bodies or figures, saying that God made use of the number five in the fabric of the world, as it were transcribing and copying this; and then, having proposed a doubt and question of the number of the worlds, whether there be five, or one only, thereby clearly shows that his conjecture is grounded on this conceit of the five regular bodies. If now we may make a probable conjecture as to his opinion, we may believe that of necessity, with the diversity of these figures and bodies, there must presently ensue a difference and diversity of motions; as he himself teacheth, affirming that whatever is subtilized or condensed does, at the same time

with its alteration of substance, alter and change its place. For if from the air there is engendered fire, when the octahedron is dissolved and vanished into pyramids, or, on the contrary, if the air be produced from the fire pressed and squeezed up into the form of the octahedron, it is not possible it should remain there where it was before, but it flies and runs to another place, forcing and combating whatever stands in the way to oppose it. And he shows this more clearly and evidently by an example and similitude of fans, and such like things as drive away the chaff from the corn; for thus the elements driving the matter, and being driven by it, do always bring like to like, some taking up this place, others that, before the world was digested as now it is. The matter then being in that condition in which it is likely every thing is where God is not present, the five first qualities, or first bodies, having each their proper and peculiar inclinations and motions, went apart, not wholly and altogether, nor throughly divided and separated one from another; for when all was huddled in confusion, such as were surmounted went continually against their nature with the mightier. And therefore, some going on one side and others going on the other, hence it has happened that there have been as many portions and distinctions as there are divers kinds of first bodies; one of fire, not wholly pure, but inclining towards the form of fire; another of an ethereal nature, yet not wholly so, but inclining thereto; another of earth, not simple and mere earth, but inclining to the form of earth. But especially there was a communication of water and air; for these, as we have already mentioned, went their ways, replenished with divers other kinds. For God did not separate and distribute the matter, but having found it thus carelessly dissipated in itself, and each part being carried away in such great disorder and confusion, he ranged and ordered it into symmetry and proportion; and setting
reason over each as a guardian and governor, he made as many worlds as there were first bodies. However, in respect to Ammonius, let these Platonical notions pass for what they are worth. For my part, I will never be overzealous in this precise number of worlds; but this I will say, that those who hold there are more than one, yet not an infinite number, have as good grounds as others, seeing the matter does naturally spread itself and is diffused into many parts,—not resting in one, while yet it is contrary to reason that it should be infinitely extended. In short, let us here especially be mindful of the wise precepts of the Academy, and preserve ourselves upon such slippery ground as the controversy concerning the infinity of worlds, by refusing a too confident assent.

And when I had finished this discourse, Demetrius said: Lamprias is very much in the right; for the Gods deceive us with multiplicities, not of shadows and impostures (as Euripides[*](See Euripides, Frag. 925.) expresseth it), but even of realities and substances themselves, when we presume to be positive, as if we understood them in things of such weight and moment. But we must, as he advises us, return to our first question, which we seem to have forgotten. For what was said concerning the oracles remaining dumb and useless when the Daemons who presided over them were departed, even as we see musical instruments yield no harmony when the musician does not handle them,—this, I say, brings a greater question into debate, namely touching the cause and power by which these Daemons use to make their prophets and prophetesses to be ravished with enthusiasm and filled with fantastical imaginations. For to say the oracles are silent as being forsaken by the Daemons is nothing, unless we be first shown how (when they are present and govern them) they set them at work and make them prophesy.

Ammonius then taking up the discourse, Do you think, said he, that the Daemons are any thing else

Than wandering spirits clothed in finest air,[*](Hesiod, Works and Days, 125.)
as Hesiod says? For as to my part, I think the same difference which there is between one man and another, when they act in a tragedy or comedy, is also to be found in this life in souls that are clothed with bodies. So that there is nothing in this which is strange or contrary to reason, if souls meeting with other souls do imprint on them visions and apprehensions of future things, just as we show several things already done and come to pass, and prognosticate of those which have not yet happened, not only by the help of speech, but also by letters and writings, or by a bare touch, or a single look;—unless you, Lamprias, are of another opinion. For we heard but very lately, that you discoursed at large upon this subject with the strangers that came to Lebadea; but he that gave us this information could give us no particular account of what passed. No wonder, replied I, for several avocations and businesses intervening, occasioned by the oracle and the solemn sacrifice that was then performing, made our discourse very broken and interrupted. But now, says Ammonius, you have auditors at leisure, that are inquisitive and desirous of instruction, so that you may speak freely, and expect all the candor and consideration which you can desire.

And the rest of the company making the like exhortations, having paused a while, I began after this manner: It so happened, Ammonius, that you did, without your knowledge, give occasion to the discourse which was then held; for if the Daemons be souls and spirits separated from bodies and having no communication with them, as you affirm, but according to the divine poet Hesiod,

Are our kind guardians, walking here their rounds,[*](Hesiod, Works and Days, 123.)
why do we deprive the spirits and souls which are in bodies of the same power by which Daemons may foresee and foretell things to come? For it is not likely souls do acquire any property and power, when they abandon their bodies, wherewith they were not endowed before; but rather, we should think that they had always the same parts, but in a worse degree, when they were mixed with bodies, some of them being inapparent and hid, and others weak and obscure, like those who see through a thick mist or move in water, heavily and uneasily performing their operations, much desiring to be cured and so to recover what is their own, and to be discharged and purified of that which covers them. For as the sun does not then properly become bright when he has escaped out of the cloud,—for he is always so, though to our eyes, being clouded, he seems obscure and dark,—so the soul acquires not then the faculty of divining when gotten clear of the body, as from a cloud, but having the same before, is blinded by the commixture and confusion which she has with the mortal body. And this cannot seem strange or incredible, if we consider nothing else in the soul but the faculty of remembrance, which is, as it were, the reverse of divination, and if we reflect upon the miraculous power it hath of preserving things past, or, we should rather say, things present, for of what is past nothing remains, and all things do come into being and perish in the same moment, whether they be actions, or words, or passions; they all pass by and vanish as soon as they appear; for time, like the course of a river, passeth on, and carries every thing along with it. But this retentive faculty of the soul seizes upon these in some mysterious way, and gives a form and a being to those things which are no longer
present. For the oracle which was given to those of Thessaly, touching Arne, enjoined them to declare
The deaf man’s hearing, and the blind man’s sight.
But memory is to us the hearing of things without voice, and the sight of things invisible; so that, as I now said, no marvel, if retaining the things which are no longer in being, the soul anticipates several of those which are still to come; for these do more concern her, and she does naturally sympathize with them, inclining and tending to things which are future; whereas, as to those which are past and have an end, she leaves them behind her, only retaining the bare remembrance of them.

Our souls then, having this inbred power,—though weak, obscure, and hardly able to express their apprehensions,—yet sometimes spread forth and recover themselves, either in dreams or in the time of sacrifice or religious worship, when the body is well purified and endued with a certain temperature proper to this effect or when the rational and speculative part, being released and freed from the solicitude after present things, joineth with the irrational and imaginative part to think of and represent what is to come. For it is not, as Euripides saith, that he is the best prophet who guesses well; but he is the wisest man, not whose guess succeeds well in the event, but who, whatever the event be, takes reason and probability for his guide. Now the faculty of divining, like blank paper, is void of any reason or determination of itself, but is susceptible of fantasies and presentiments; and without any ratiocination or discourse of reason, it touches on that which is to come, when it has withdrawn itself farthest from the present. And from this it withdraws by means of a certain disposition of body, by which that state is produced which we call inspiration or enthusiasm. Now the body is sometimes endued naturally with this disposition; but

most times the earth casts forth to men the sources and causes of several other powers and faculties, some of which carry men beside themselves into ecstasy and phrensy, and produce maladies and mortalities; others again are good, gentle, and profitable, as appears by those who have had the experience of them. But this spring, or wind, or spirit of divination is most holy and divine, whether it comes by itself through the air, or through the water of some spring. For, being infused and mixed with the body, it produceth an odd temperature and strange disposition in the soul, which a man cannot exactly express, though he may resemble or compare it to several things. For by heat and dilatation it seems to open certain pores that make a discovery of future things; like wine, which, causing fumes to ascend up into the head, puts the spirits into many unusual motions, and reveals things that were laid up in secret. For drunkenness and phrensy, if we will believe Euripides, have a near approach to the nature of divination, when the soul, being hot and fiery, banishes those fears to which prudence and sobriety are subject, and which extinguish and quench the spirit of divination.