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http://archive.org/details/consolatorielettOOplut_0
A CONSOLATORIE LETTER
A CONSOLATORIE LETTER
OR DISCOURSE
SENT BY PLUTARCH OF CH^RONEA UNTO
HIS OWNE WIFE AS TOUCHING THE DEATH
OF HER AND HIS DAUGHTER
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
MDCCCCV
NOTE
This version of Plutarch's Consolatorie Letter first
appeared in Philemon Holland's translation of 'the
Philosophic commonly called the Morals written
by the learned philosopher, Plutarch of Chaeronea,'
published in 1603. The present printing follows
the text of the 'newly revised and corrected' edi-
tion of 1657.
THE SUMMARIE
Plutarch being from home, and far absent^
received newes concerning the death of a little
daughter of his, a girle about two years old, named
Timoxena, a child of gentle nature, and of great
hope : but fearing that his wife would apprehend
such a losse too neerunto her heart, he comforteth
her in this letter, and by giving testimony unto her
of vertue and constancy shewed at the death of
other children of hers, more forward in age than
she was; he exhorteth her likewise to patience and
moderation in this new occurrence and trial of
hers ; condemning by sundry reasons the excessive
sorrow, and unworthy fashion of many fond
mothers, shewing withall the inconveniences that
such excessive heavinesse draweth after it. Then
continuing his consolation of her, he declareth
with what eye we ought to regard infants and
children as well before, as during and after life ;
how happy they be, who can content themselves
and rest in the will and pleasure of^od ; that the
7
THE SUMMARIE
blessings past, ought to dulce and mitigate the
calamities present, to stay us also, that we proceed
not to that degree and height of infortunity , as to
make account onely of the misadventures and dis-
commodities hapning in this our life, JVhich done,
he answereth to certain objections which his wife
might propose and set on foot ; and therewith de-
livereth his own advice as touching the incorrup-
tion and immortality of mans soul (after he had
made a medly of divers opinions which the ancient
Philosophers held as touching that point) ; and
in the end concludeth : That it is better and more
expedient to die betimes, than late : which position
of his he confirmeth by an ordinance precisely ob-
served in his own country, whichexpressly forbade
to mourn and lament for those who departed this
life in their childhood.
PLUTARCH UNTO HIS WIFE
GREETING
The messenger whom you sent of purpose, to
bring me word as touching the death of our
little daughter, went out of his way (as I sup-
pose) and so missed of me, as he journeyed
toward (Athens; howbeit, when I was arrived
at Tanagra, I heard that she had changed this
life.
Now, as concerning the funerals and enter-
ring of her, I am verily perswaded, that you
have already taken sufficient order, so as that
the thing is not to do ; and I pray God, that you
have performed that duty in such sort, that nei-
ther for the present, nor the time to come, it
work you any grievance and displeasure : but if
haply you have put off any such complements
(which you were willing enough of your selfe
to accomphsh) until you knew my mind and
pleasure, thinking that in so doing, you should
with better will and more patiently bear this
9
A LETTER
adverse accident, then I pray you, let the same
be performed without all curiosity and super-
stition ; and yet I must needs say, you are as
little given in that w^y as any v^oman that I
know : this only I would admonish you (deare
heart) , that in this case, you shew (both in re-
gard of your selfe and also of me ) a constancy
and tranquility of mind ; for mine own part, I
conceive and measure in mine own heart this
losse, according to the nature and greatnesse
thereof, and so I esteem of it accordingly ; but
if I should finde that you took it impatiently,
this would be much more grievous unto me and
wound my heart more, than the calamity it
selfe that causeth it ; and yet am I not begotten
and born either of an Oak or a Rock ; whereof
you can bare me good wdtnesse, knowing that
we both together have reared many of our
children at home in house, even with our own
hands ; and how I loved this girle most tender-
ly, both for that you were very desirous (after
four sons, one after another in a row) to bear a
lO
OR DISCOURSE
daughter, as also for that in regard of that fan-
cy, I took occasion to give her your name ; now
besides that natural fatherly affection which
commonly men have toward little babes, there
was one particular property that gave an edge
thereto, and caused me to love her above the
rest ; and that was a special grace that she had,
to make joy and pleasure, and the same with-
out any mixture at all of curstnesse or fro-
wardnesse, and nothing given to whining and
complaint ; for she was of a wonderful kind
and gentle nature, loving she was again to
those that loved her, and marvellous desirous
to gratifie and pleasure others ; in which re-
gards, she both delighted me, and also yeelded
no small testimony of rare debonairity that
nature had endued her withal ; for she would
make prety meanes to her nurse, and seem (as
it were ) to entreat her to give the brest or pap,
not onely to other infants, like her selfe, her
play feeres, but also to little babies and pup-
pets, and such like gawds as little ones take
11
A LETTER
joy in, and wherewith they use to play ; as if
upon a singular courtesie and humanity she
could find in her heart to communicate and
distribute from her own table, even the best
things that she had, among them that did her
any pleasure. But I see no reason ( sweet wife )
why these lovely qualities and such like, where-
in we took contentment and joy in her life time,
should disquiet and trouble us now, after her
death, when we either think or make relation
of them : and I fear againe, lest by our dolour
and grief we abandon and put clean away all
the remembrance thereof, like as Clymene de-
sired to do, when she said :
I hate the bow so light of cornel tree:
oyfll exercise abroad, farewell for me;
as avoiding alwayes and trembling at the re-
membrance and commemoration of her son,
which did no other good but renew her grief
and dolour ; for naturally we seek to flee all
that troubleth and offendeth us. We ought
12
OR DISCOURSE
therefore so to demean our selves, that as
whiles she lived, we had nothing in the world
more sweet to embrace, more pleasant to see,
or delectable to hear than our daughter ; so the
cogitation of her may still abide and live with
us all our life time, having by many degrees
our joy multiply ed more than our heavinesse
augmented ; if it be meet and fit that the rea-
sons and arguments which we have often times
delivered toothers, should profit us when time
and occasion requireth, and not lie still and idle
for any good we have by them, nor challenge
and accuse us, for that, in stead of joyes past,
we bring upon our selves many more griefs by
far. They that have come unto us report thus
much of you, and that with great admiration
of your vertue, that you never put on mourn-
ing weed, nor so much as changed your robe,
and that by no means you could be brought
to disfigure your selfe, or any of your waiting
maidens and women about you, nor offer any
outrage or injury to them in this behalfe;
13
A LETTER
neither did you set out her funerals with any
sumptuous panegyrical pomp, as if it had been
some solemn feast, but performed every thing
soberly and civilly, after a still manner, ac-
companied only with our kinsfolk and friends.
But my selfe verily made no great wonder
that you ( who never took pride and pleasure
to be seen, either in Theater or in publick pro-
cession, but rather alwayes esteemed all such
magnificence so vain, and sumptuosity super-
fluous, even in those things that tended to
delight) have observed the most safe way of
plainnesse and simplicity, in these occasions of
sorrow and sadness. For a vertuous and chaste
Matron ought not to onely keep her selfe pure
and inviolate in Bacchanal feasts ; but also to
think thus with her selfe, that the turbulent
storms of sorrow and passionate motions of
anguish had no lesse need of continency to re-
sist and withstand, not the naturall love and
affection of mothers to their children, as many
think, but intemperance of the mind. For we
14
OR DISCOURSE
allow and graunt unto this natural kindnesse,
a certain affection to bewaile, to reverence, to
wish for, to long after, and to beare in mind
those that are departed ; but the excessive and
insatiable desire of lamentations, which forceth
men and women to loud out-cries, to knock,
beat, and mangle their own bodies, is no lesse
unseemly and shamefuU, than incontinence in
pleasures : howbeit, it seemeth by good right to
deserve excuse and pardon, for that in this un-
decency, there is grief and bitterness of sorrow
adjoyned, whereas, in the other, pleasure and
delight: for what is more absurd and senslesse,
than to seem for to take away excesse of laugh-
ter and mirth ; but contrariwise to give head
unto streams of tears which proceed from one
fountain and to suffer folk to give themselves
over to weeping and lamentation as much as
they will ; as also that which some use to do,
namely, to chide and rebuke their wives for
some sweet perfumes, odoriferous pomanders,
or purple garments, which they are desirous
15
A LETTER
to have ; and in the meanwhile permit them to
tear their hair in time of mourning, to shave
their heads, to put on black, to sit unseemly
upon the bare ground, or in ashes, and in most
painful manner to cry out upon God and man ;
yea, and that which of all others is worst, when
their wives chastise excessively, or punish un-
justly their servants, to come between and stay
their hands ; but when they rigorously and
cruelly torment themselves, to let them alone
and neglect them in those crosse accidents,
which contrariwise had need of facility and
humanity ? But between us twain, sweet heart,
there was never any need of such fray or com-
bat, and I suppose there will never be. For to
speak of that frugality which is seen in plain
and simple apparel, or of sobriety in ordinary
dyet, and tending of the body: never was there
any Philosopher yet conversing with us in our
house, whom you put not down and struck in-
to an extraordinary amaze, nor so much as a
Citizen whom you caused not to admire ( as a
16
OR DISCOURSE
strange and wonderful sight, whether it were
in pubhck sacrifices, or in frequent theaters,
and solemn processions ) your rare simplicity :
semblably, heretofore you shewed great con-
stancy upon the like conflict and accident at the
death of your eldest son ; and again when that
gentle and beautiful Charon departed from us
untimely, in the prime of his years ; and I re-
member well that certain strangers who jour-
neyed with me along from the sea side (at
what time as word was brought of my sons
death) came home with others to my house,
who seeing all things there setled, nothing out
of order, but all silent and quiet ( as they them-
selves afterward made report), began to think
that the said news was false, and no such calam-
ity had hapned ; so wisely had you composed
all matters within house, when as I wis, there
was good occasion given that might have ex-
cused some disorder and confusion : and yet
this son you were nurse unto your selfe, and
give it suck at your own pap; yea, and endured
17
A LETTER
the painful incision of your breast, by reason
of a cancerous hard tumor that came by a con-
tusion. Oh, the generosity of a vertuous dame,
and behold the kindnesse of a mother toward
her children ! whereas you shall see many other
mothers to receive their young babes at the
hands of their nurses, to dandle and play with-
al, forsooth, in mirth and pastime : but after-
wards the same women (if their infants chance
to die ) give themselves over to all vain mourn-
ing, and bootlesse sorrow, which proceedeth,
not doubtlesse from good will indeed (for
surely hearty affection is reasonable, honest
and considerate), but rather from a foolish opin-
ion mingled with a little natural kindnesse; and
this is it that engendereth savage, furious, im-
placable sorrows. And verily (^esope (as it
should seem) was not ignorant hereof, for he
reporteth this narration : « That when Jupiter
made a dole or distribution of honours among
the gods and goddesses, Sorrow came after-
wards and made suit likewise to be honoured,
18
OR DISCOURSE
and so he bestowed upon her, tears, plaints,
lamentations ; but for them only who are will-
ing thereto, and ready to give her entertain-
ment. And I assure you, this they commonly
do at the very beginning ; for everyone of his
own accord bringeth in, and admitteth sorrow
unto him, who (after she is once entertained,
and in processe of time well setled, so that she
is become domestical and familiar) will not be
driven out of dores nor be gone, if a man would
never so faine ; and therefore resistance must
be made against her, even at the very gate,
neither ought we to abandon our hold, and quit
the fort, renting our garments, rearing or
shearing our hairs, or doing other such things,
as ordinarily happen every day; causing a
man to be confused, shameful and discouraged,
making his heart base, abject and shut up, that
he cannot enlarge it, but remain poor and tim-
orous ; bringing him to this passe, that he dare
not be merry, supposing it altogether unlaw-
ful to laugh, to come abroad and see the sunne-
19
A LETTER
light, to converse with men, or to eat or drink
in company; into such a captivity is he brought
through sorrow and melancholy : upon this in-
convenience, after it hath once gotten head,
there followeth the neglect of the body, no
care of annointing or bathing, and generally a
retchlessenesse and contempt of all things be-
longing to this life ; whereas contrariwise and
by good reason, when the mind is sick or a-
misse, it should be helped and sustained by the
strength of an able and cheerfuU body ; for a
great part of the souls grief is allayed, and the
edge thereof as it were dulled, when the body is
fresh and disposed to alacrity, like as the waves
of the sea be laid even, during a calme and
fair weather: but contrariwise, if by reason that
the body be evil entreated, and not regarded
with good diet and choice keeping, it is become
dried, rough and hard, in such sort, as from it
there breathe no sweet and comfortable exhal-
ations unto the soul, but all smoaky and bitter
vapours of dolour, griefe, and sadnesse annoy
20
OR DISCOURSE
her; then is it no easie matter for men ( be they
never so willing and desirous ) to recover them-
selves, but that their souls being thus seized
upon by so grievous passions, will be afflicted
and tormented still. But that which is most dan-
gerous and dreadful in this case, I never feared
in your behalfe (to wit), That foolish women
should come and visit you, and then fall aweep-
ing, lamenting, and crying with you ; a thing ( I
may say to you) that is enough to whet sorrow,
and awaken it if it were asleep, not suffering it
either by itselfe, or by means of help and suc-
cour from another, to passe, fade, and vanish
away ; for I know very well what ado you had,
and into what a conflict you entered about the
sister of Theon, when you would have assisted
her, and resisted other women who came in to
her with great cries and loud lamentations, as
if they brought fire with them, in all haste to
maintain and encrease that which was kindled
already. True it is indeed, that when a friends
or neighbours house is seen on fire, every man
21
A LETTER
runneth as fast as he can to help for to quench
the same : but when they see their souls burning
in griefe and sorrow, they contrariwise bring
more fewel and matter still to augment, or
keep the said fire: also if a man be diseased in
his eyes, he is not permitted to handle, or touch
them with his hands, especially if they be blood-
shotten, and possessed with any inflammation ;
whereas he who sits mourning and sorrowing
at home in his house, offereth and presenteth
himselfe to the first commer, and to every one
that is willing to irritate, stir, and provoak his
passion (as it were a floud or stream that is let
out and set a running) , insomuch as where be-
fore the grievance did but itch or smart a little,
it now begins to shoot, to ake, to be fell and an-
gry, so that it becometh a great and dangerous
malady in the end : but I am verily perswaded
(I say) that you know how to preserve your
selfe from these extremities. Now over and
besides, endeavour to reduce and call again to
mind the time when as we had not this daugh-
22
OR DISCOURSE
ter, namely, when she was as yet unborn ; how
we had no cause then to complain of fortune ;
then, see you join (as it were with one tenon)
this present, with that which is past, setting the
case as if we were returned again to the same
state wherein we were before : for it will appear
(my good wife) that we are discontented that
ever she was born, in case we make shew that
we were in better condition before her birth
than afterwards ; not that I wish we should abol-
ish out of our remembrance the two years space
between her nativity and decease; but rather
count and reckon it among other our pleasures
and blessings, as during which time we had
the fruition of joy, mirth and pastime, and not
to esteem that good which was but little and
endured a small while, our great infortunity ;
nor yet seem unthankful to fortune, for the fa-
vour which she hath done unto us, because she
added not thereto that length of life which we
hoped and expected. Certes, to rest contented
always with the gods ; to think and speak of
23
A LETTER
them reverently as it becometh ; not to com-
plain of fortune, but to take in good worth
whatsoever it pleaseth her to send, bringeth
evermore a fair and pleasant fruit: but he who,
in these cases, putteth out of remembrance the
good things that he hath, transporting and
turning his thoughts and cogitations from ob-
scure and troublesome occurrents, unto those
which be clear and resplendent; if he do not
by this means utterly extinguish his sorrow,
yet at leastwise by mingling and tempering it
with the contrary, he shal be able to diminish or
else make it more feeble: for like as a sweet
odour and fragrant ointment delighteth and re-
fresheth alwayes the sense of smelling, and
besides is a remedy against stinking savours :
even so the cogitation of these benefits which
men have otherwise received serveth as a most
necessary and present succour in time of ad ver-
sity unto as many as refuse not to remember
and call to mind their joyes passed, and who
never at all for any accident whatsoever com-
24
OR DISCOURSE
plain of fortune ; which we ought not to do in
reason and honesty, unlesse we would seem to
accuse and blame this life which we enjoy, for
some crosse or accident ; as if we cast away a
book, if it have but one blur or blot in it, being
otherwise written throughout most clean and
fair ; for you have heard it oftentimes said, that
the beatitude of those who are departed de-
pendeth upon the right and sound discourses
of our understanding, and the same tending
to one constant disposition; as also, that the
changes and alterations of fortune bear no
great sway, to infer much declination or casu-
alty in our life : but if we also as the common
sort must be ruled and governed by external
things without us, if we reckon and count the
chances and casualties of fortune, and admit
for judges of our felicity or misery, the base
and vulgar sort of people ; yet take you no heed
to those tears, plaints, and moans that men or
women make who come to visit you at this pre-
sent, who also ( upon a foohsh custome, and as
25
A LETTER
it were of course) have them ready at com-
mand for every one ; but rather consider this
with your selfe : how happy you are reputed,
even by those who come unto you, who would
gladly and with all their hearts be like unto
you, in regard of those children whom you
have, the house and family which you keep,
and the life that you lead ; for it were an evil
thing to see others desire to be in your estate
and condition for all the sorrow which now
afflicteth us, and your selfe in the mean time
complaining and taking in ill part the same,
and not to be so happy and blessed, as to find
and feele (even by this crosse that now pincheth
you, for the losse of one Infant) what joy you
should take, and how thankful you ought to be
for those who remain alive with you ; for herein
you should resemble very well those Criticks,
who collect and gather together all the lame
and defective verses of Homer, which are but
few in number; and in the mean time passe
over an infinite sort of others, which were by
26
OR DISCOURSE
him most excellently made. In this manner (I
say) you did, if you would search narrowly, and
examine every particular mishap in this life,
and find fault therewith; but all good blessings
in grose, let go by, and never once respect the
same ; which to do, were much like unto the
practise of those covetous misers, worldlings,
and penni-fathers, who cark and care, punish
both body and mind, until they have gathered
a great deale of good together, and then enjoy
no benefit or use thereof; but if they chance to
forgo any of it, they keep a piteous wailing and
woful lamentation.
Now if haply you have compassion and pity
of the poor girle, in that she went out of this
world a maid unmarried, and before that she
bare any children, you ought rather on the
contrary side, to rejoyce and take delight in
your selfe above others, for that you have not
failed of these blessings, nor been disappointed
either of the one or the other : for who would
hold and maintain that these things should be
27
A LETTER
great to those who be deprived of them and
but small to them who have and enjoy the
same? As for the Child, who doubtlesse is gone
into a place where she feeleth no paine, surely
she requireth not at our hands that we should
afflict and grieve ourselves for her sake : for
what harm is there befallen unto us by her, if
she her selfe now feele no hurt? And as for the
losses of great things indeed, surely they yeeld
no sense at all of dolour, when they are once
come to this point, that there is no more need
of them, or care made for them. But verily, thy
dsiughter Timoxena is bereft, not of great mat-
ters, but of small things ; for in truth, she had
no knowledge at all, but of such, neither de-
lighted she in any, but in such : seeing then,
that she had no perceivance nor thought of
those things, how can she properly and truely
be said to be deprived thereof ?
Moreover, as touching that which you heard
of others, who are wont to perswade many of
the vulgar sort, saying, That the soul, once de-
28
OR DISCOURSE
parted from the body, is dissolved, and feeleth
no pain or dolour at all : I am assured that you
yeeld no credit and beliefe to such positions ; as
well in regard of those reasons and instructions
which you have received by tradition from our
Ancestors, as also of those sacred and symbol-
ical mysteries of Bacchus, which we know well
enough, who are of that religious confraternity,
and professed therein. Being grounded there-
fore in this principle, and holding it firmly for
an undoubted truth : That our soul is incor-
ruptible and immortal ; you are to think that it
fareth with it, as it doth with little birds that
are caught by the fowler alive, and come into
mans hands : for if it have been kept and nour-
ished daintily a long time within the body, so
that it be inured to be gentle and familiar unto
this hfe, to wit, by the management of sundry
affairs and long custome, it returneth thither
again, and re-en treth a second time (after many
generations ) into the body : it never taketh rest
nor ceaseth, but is inwrapped within the affec-
29
A LETTER
tions of the flesh, and entangled with the ad-
ventures of the world, and calamities incident
to our nature : for I would not have you to think
that old age is to be blamed and reproached for
rivels and wrinkles, nor in regard of hoary
white haires, nor yet for the imbecility and
feeblenesse of the body; but the worst and
most odious thing in it, is this : That it causeth
the soul to take corruption by the remem-
brance of those things whereof it had experi-
ence whiles it stayed therein, and was too much
addicted and affectionate unto it, whereby it
bendeth and boweth, yea, and retaineth that
form or figure which it took of the body, by be-
ing so long devoted thereto, whereas that which
is taken away in youth pretendeth a better es-
tate and condition, as being framed to a gentler
habit, more soft, tractable and less compact,
putting on now a natural rectitude, much like
as fire, which being quenched, if it be kindled
again, burneth out and reco vereth vigour incon-
tinently : which is the cause that it is far better
30
OR DISCOURSE
Betimes toyeeld up vital breath,
oytnd soon to passe the gates of death,
before that the soul have taken too deep an im-
bibition, or Hking of terrene things here below,
and ere it be made soft and tender with the love
of the body, and (as it were) by certain medi-
cines and forcible charms united and incorpor-
ate into it. The truth hereof may appear yet
better by the fashions and ancient customes
of this Countrey ; for our Citizens (when their
children die young) neither offer mortuaries,
nor perform any sacrifices and ceremonies for
them, as others are wont to do for the dead : the
reason is, because they have no part of earth nor
earthly affections ; neither do they keep about
their tombs and sepulchres, nor lay forth the
dead corps abroad to bee seen of men, nor sit
near unto their bodies : for our laws and stat-
utes do not permit and suffer any mourning at
all for those that so depart in their minority,
as being a custome not holy and religious; for
31
A LETTER
that we are to think they passe into a better
place and happier condition : Which ordinances
and customes, since it is more dangerous not to
give credit unto, than beleeve, let us carry and
demeane ourselves according as they com-
mand, for outward order; as for within, all
ought to be more pure, wise and uncorrupt.
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A LETTER OR DISCOURSE
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