PERICLES.
(His Idea of Godlike.)

Pericles a little before he died, said a very judicious thing, which has given Plutarch occasion to make a solid reflection upon the nature of God; but that author went too far; he overstrained the idea of infinite goodness; he affirmed that it could do no

harm, and he would rather impute evil to another cause. “When he was drawing on, and near his time,” writes Plutarch, “the best of the citizens, and those of his friends who were left alive, sitting about him, were discoursing of his virtue and authority, how great it was, and were reckoning up his famous actions and achievements, and the number of his victories; for he had gained nine battles, and there were no fewer than nine trophies, which he, as their chief commander and conqueror of their enemies had set up for the honour of the city and state. These things they talked of together among themselves; as though he did. not understand, or mind what they said, but had been utterly deprived of his senses; but he had listened all the while, and given good heed to all their discourse, and speaking out, said, that he wondered they should commend and take notice of those things in him, which were as much owing to fortune as to any thing else, and had happened to many other captains in former times, as well as to himself, and that at the same time they should not speak or make mention of that which was the most excellent and greatest thing of all: for said he, there was never any of all my fellow citizens that ever wore black, or put on mourning upon my account.”

Here follows Plutarch’s reflection: “To me it appears, that this one thing of him, made that otherwise childish and arrogant title which they gave him by nicknaming him Olympian, (that is, the Heavenly, or Godlike) truly become him: I mean his kind and courteous carriage, and pure and unblemished conversation in the height of power and place. According to the notions that we have of the gods themselves, in their kind; who because they are naturally the authors of all good things, and are not the authors of any evil, we think worthy to rule and govern the world. Not as the poets rudely fancy, who, confounding us with their foolish unmannerly

conceits and opinions, contradict themselves in their own poems and fictitious stories. First, they call the place wherein they say the gods make their abode, a secure and quiet seat, free from all hazards and commotions, not troubled with winds, nor darkened with clouds, but at all times alike, shining round about with a soft serenity and a pure light; inasmuch as such tempered station is most agreeable and suitable for a blessed and immortal nature to live in; and yet at the same time affirm, that the gods themselves are full of trouble, and enmity, and anger, and other passions, which no way become or belong even to men that have any understanding.” What Plutarch says here against the poets is very fine and solid; the rest is a deceitful beauty, and may be compared with poisoned flowers, that cover a serpent, “latet anguis in herba.” Perhaps it will be thought that I mean that there are in those words some seeds of the false doctrine of Epicurus, concerning the tranquillity of the gods, free from hatred and anger; but it is not that: Plutarch does not present us the poison of Epicurus, but that of Manicheism: we have seen elsewhere, that he positively declared for the doctrine of two principles. He mentions it again in this reflection upon Pericles’ answer. He does not believe, as Epicurus did, that God enjoys an idle rest; he ascribes to him action and providence; but it is only a bountiful providence, which distributes favours and happiness. It is not a providence which grows angry sometimes, which punishes and corrects, and oppresses mankind with miseries. He does not approve that Pericles should have had the sirname of the Olympian, that is to say, divine and heavenly, because his eloquence lightened, thundered, and fulminated, but because he never made use of his authority to revenge himself, and not one family ever put on mourning upon his account. Plutarch’s opinion was not the most common; most people knew the divinity of Jupiter better by thunder and lightning than by the distribution of benefits. The religious ceremonies of the Heathens were rather appointed to avert the anger of the gods, than to obtain favours from them; yet there was a general notion, which prevailed every where, that nothing is more agreeable to the divine nature than to do good. The epithet of optimus (best) went before that of maximus (greatest) when they praised Jupiter. “Sed ipse Jupiter, id est juvans pater, quern conversis casibus appellamus a juvendo Jovem a poetis pater Divumque, hominumque dicitur; a Majoribus autem nostris Optimus, Maximus, et quidem ante Optimus, id est beneficentissimus, quam Maximus: quia majus est, certeque gratius prodesse omnibus, quam opes magnus habere. Cicero, de Nat. Deor. liv. ii, cap. xxv. ³—But Jupiter, that is, helping father, whom we call so because he relieves us in our afflictions, is called by the poets the father of gods and men: but by our ancestors he was styled Optimus Maximus; the epithet optimus, which signifies the most gracious, being put first, because it is better to be good than great.” The philosopher Antipater defined God an animal, happy, immortal, and good to all men. Persæus, the disciple of Zeno, attending to Cicero, says, “that those were accounted gods who were the authors of useful inventions, and that the inventions were called by the names of gods: he does not style them the inventions of gods, but divine inventions.” It was also the way of obtaining the Apotheosis, if we believe Pliny: Plin. lib. ii. cap. vii. pag. m. 143, 144. ⁴ “It is god-like for one man to help another; it is the road that leads to eternal glory. In this way the Roman heroes travelled, and in this heavenly path the most excellent prince Vespasian, with his children, now walk, relieving those that are in misery. It was the custom of the ancients to shew their gratitude, by deifying those who had done great and good actions. For the names of all the other gods, and of the constellations I have above recited, take their rise from the good offices performed by men.” Others giving a more reasonable turn to it, have said that the gods had inspired men with the invention of arts. The Scythians told Alexander: “If thou be a god, thou must do good to men, and not take from them what is their own; si Deus es, tribuere mortalibus beneficia debes, non sua eripere.” Sound theology agrees with all these notions of the ancient Heathens. There are innumerable passages in the Scripture, whereby it appears that God is infinitely more inclined to use mercy than severity.

I have read in the voyage of Sir Francis Drake, that the inhabitants of New Albion took the English for gods, and paid divine honours to them, because when they shewed their wounds to them, they received plaisters and salves which cured them. On the contrary, the Spaniards were looked upon as gods in America, because they did a great deal of mischief with their cannons. Their ship was taken for a bird that brought them down from heaven; which shews that two opposite things lead men to the knowledge of God, vis. the power to do ill, which he exercises so severely, and the goodness wherewith he bestows a thousand benefits upon mankind. It may be a question, whether one of those two attributes be more knowable than the other. Tacitus pretends, that the gods are more inclined to punish men, than to let them be quiet. Tacit. Hist. lib. i. cap. iii. ⁵ “Nec enim unquam,” says he, “atro cioribus populi Romani cladibus magisve justis judi ciis approbatum est, non esse curse deis securitatem nostram, esse ultionem. - - The dreadful calamities of the Roman people evidently [prove, that the gods desire not our quiet but our misery.” A journalist maintains that the effects of goodness are

more extended than the effects of punishment. Here are his words: “Of all the perfections of God, goodness would be most visible, if men would consider it. Is it not great goodness to have so ordered things, that all our necessary actions are attended with pleasure, and to have made us susceptible of pleasure a thousand ways? It is in vain to say that we are more susceptible of sorrow and pain; this is not true, and if it were true, we should not for all that forget the great goodness of God, since we might easily see that the pleasures we enjoy come from the laws he has established in nature, and that, on the contrary, most of our sorrows proceed from the ill use we make of our reason.” Note, by the by, that the difference he speaks of, and which he grounds upon the consequences of the ill use we make of liberty, could not satisfy a difficult adversary, who would say that this very thing, viz. the ill use a man makes of his reason, to vex himself to no purpose, is a great unhappiness, and ought necessarily to be placed amongst afflictions; so that if we make a parallel between the good and evil which Providence imparts to men, we must reckon the evils which proceed from the weakness of our reason, as well as sickness, hunger, thirst, &c.

I shall only add, that the Greek proverb, “Every thing that nourishes me is a god to me,” is more deceitfill than people think. See the answer which was made to Philip de Comines, and that of a surgeon to a monk of St. Denis. “It is certain that a certain disease was unknown in France before the reign of Charles VIII; the greatest part of that prince’s army died of it, because being not yet known, they knew no remedy for it, which shews that it was not the leprosy. Necessity put men upon finding some remedies to cure it, whereby many surgeons grew very rich. One of them, very thankful for his happiness, went one day to St Denis, and kneeled down before the statue of Charles VIII to thank him for it; but

monk having told him that he was mistaken, and that it was not the image of a saint—‘ Hold your tongue, father,’ said he, ‘ I know very well what I do; he is a true saint to me, since I have got by his means thirty thousand livres a year, so that it is a piece of (justice for me to thank him for it.’” The author of

Moyen de Parvenir makes the sum less, and names the surgeon. Here are his words: “You put me in mind of that monk of St Denis in France, who was an assuming fellow. When he saw Thierre de Hery upon his knees before the statue of Charles VIII, he told him, ‘ my friend, you are mistaken; that is not the image of a saint.’ ‘ I know it very well,’ said the surgeon, ‘ I am not so great a fool as you are, I know it is the statue of king Charles VIII, for whose soul I pray, because he brought a certain disease into France, whereby I have got six or seven thousand livres a year.’”

I will not conclude without quoting Virgil. He was very much disposed to deify his benefactors: his lands having been spared by a particular favour of Octavius, he styled him a god.

O Melibæe, Deus nobis hæc otia fecit:
Namque erit ille mihi semper Deus: illius aram
Sæpè tener nostris ab ovilibus imbuet agnus.

Virgil Eclog. 1. ver. 6.

O Melibæus, 'twas a gód to us,
Indulg’d this freedom; for to me a god
He shall be ever; from my fold full oft
A tender lamb his altar shall imbrue.

Trapp.

Good Maturinus Corderius, out of a pious fraud, which may be well excused, made school-boys believe that those words were very pious. He translated them thus: Melibæus, that favour comes to us from the only wise god. Virgil had no such thought; he only meant Augustus.—Art. Pericles.