Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
I shall try to write to you, dearest Piso, as clearly and concisely as I can, concerning our views about fate, since you have asked for this, well aware of the caution I feel about writing. First, then, know that "fate" is spoken of and understood in two ways: the one is an activity, the other a substance. Now Plato sketched out the activity in outline,
both in the Phaedrus, where he speaks of "this ordinance of Adrasteia, that whatever soul, having become a follower of a god..."; and in the Timaeus, of the "laws" which the god spoke to the immortal souls concerning the nature of the universe; and in the Republic he says that fate is "the word of Lachesis, the daughter of Necessity," declaring his own view not in the manner of tragedy but theologically. And if
one wished to render these in more ordinary terms by paraphrase, fate as spoken of in the Phaedrus would be a divine reason (logos) that cannot be transgressed, on account of a cause that cannot be hindered; while as in the Timaeus it would be a law consequent upon the nature of the universe, in accordance with which the things that come to be are administered. For this is what Lachesis accomplishes there, she who is truly the daughter of Necessity, as we noted earlier and shall come to know still more
in our discussions at leisure. This, then, is fate as activity. Fate as substance, on the other hand, appears to be the whole soul of the cosmos, distributed threefold: into the fixed sphere, and into that which is thought to wander, and third the sublunary sphere that exists around the earth. Of these, the uppermost is called Clotho, and the one after her Atropos, and the
lowest in turn Lachesis, who receives the heavenly activities of her sisters, and who weaves them together and distributes them to the earthly things ordered beneath her. This, then, is stated in outline as to what must be said concerning fate as substance: what it is, how great it is, of what kind, how it is ordered, and how it stands both in relation to itself and
indeed in relation to us, as has been said in summary; but the particulars concerning these matters are hinted at, in moderate measure, by that other myth in the Republic, and I too have tried, to the best of my ability, to explain them to you. Let us, however, take up again the discussion of fate as activity; for it is around this that the many questions arise, both physical and ethical and dialectical. What
fate is, then, has been reasonably well defined; of what kind it is must next be stated, even though to many this seems a strange thing to ask. For since the things that come to be are infinite, proceeding from an infinite past into an infinite future, is fate, which encompasses all things in a circle, not itself infinite? No, it is finite; for neither law nor reason nor anything divine could be infinite. You may further understand what is meant by considering
the whole cycle and the entire span of time: "whenever the relative speeds of the eight revolutions," as the Timaeus says, "have reached completion with respect to one another, measured out in a circle by the movement of the Same and uniformly moving." For within this determinate and observable period, all things both in heaven and on earth that are constituted from above by necessity will
once again return to the same state, and again from the beginning the whole will be rendered in the same way, according to the same pattern. At any rate, the configuration of the heavens alone, ordered in every respect both in relation to itself and in relation to the earth and all earthly things, will return again at some point through long cycles; and the configurations following it in sequence, each adjacent to the next, will occur in succession, each bringing about its own effects by
necessity. But let it be made clear, for the sake of the matters now before us, that it does not follow, just because the heavenly bodies are causes of all things, that my writing these particular words now, in this particular way, and your doing whatever it is you happen to be doing, are themselves caused by them directly; rather, once the same cause returns again, we, having become the same, will do the same things in the same way. And in this way too
all human beings, and the things that follow, will come to be and be done according to the cause that follows; and all things as a whole, both in the single complete cycle and in each of the complete cycles, will be rendered in the same way. It is now clear, then, what we meant when we said that fate, though in a certain sense infinite, is not infinite, and that the statement that it is a kind of circle has been adequately examined.
For just as the motion of a circle, and the time that measures it, is itself a kind of circle, so too the principle (logos) governing the things that come to be in a circular fashion might rightly be considered a circle. This, then, more or less makes clear what sort of thing fate is — except that this applies not to fate in its particular application, nor case by case. What sort of thing, then, is fate also in this
respect, in its formal character? It is, one might conjecture, like a civic law, which in the first place lays down most, if not all, of its prescriptions conditionally; and in the second place comprehends, as far as possible, in general terms what is fitting for the city. Again, we must examine what each of these two aspects is like. Accordingly, the civic law speaks of the man who distinguishes himself in battle and of the deserter, and
likewise of other such cases; but it is not a legal statute concerning this particular man or that one, but rather it deals primarily with universals, and only consequently with the particular cases that fall under them. For indeed we would say that honoring this particular man for having distinguished himself, and punishing that particular man for having deserted, is lawful, on the ground that the law has, in effect, made provision for these cases as well — in the way that the law of medicine or of gymnastic training, so to speak,
comprehends particular cases under universals only potentially. In the same way, too, the law of nature deals primarily with universals, and only consequently with particulars. And these particulars are, in a sense, also fated, being fated together with those universals; though perhaps one of those given to excessive precision in such matters might say the opposite — that the particulars are arranged as primary, and that the universal exists for their sake,
and that the end for the sake of which something exists takes precedence over the things that exist for its sake. But this must be examined elsewhere. That fate does not embrace all things purely and explicitly, but only universals, is what has been said here, and it has bearing both on the discussion that follows and on the point made a little earlier. For the determinate is proper to divine
wisdom, and is contemplated rather in the universal; such too is the divine law — the civic law, however, is concerned with the indeterminate in the particular. After this, we must consider what it means for something to exist "on a hypothesis" (conditionally); and that fate is of this kind should be understood. We said that something exists "on a hypothesis" when it is not established in itself, but is truly posited as dependent on some other thing, whatever it is that entails a
consequence. "This is the ordinance of Adrasteia: whatever soul, having become a follower of a god, catches sight of any of the truths, shall be free from harm until the next revolution; and if it is able to do this always, it shall always be unharmed." Such, then, is what is at once conditional and universal. And that fate too happens to be of this kind is clear both from its very substance and from its name.
For it is called "heimarmenē" as though it were something "strung together" (eiromenē); and an ordinance and a law consists in this, that the consequences are civically arranged to follow upon the things that come to be. Next we must examine matters of relation: how fate stands in relation to providence, and how it stands in relation to fortune, and to what is in our power, and to the possible, and to all such things. And in addition to
this, let it be determined in what sense the statement "all things happen according to fate" is true, and in what sense false. If it means that all things are contained within fate, this must be granted as true: whether one wishes to place within fate everything that happens to human beings, or everything on earth, or everything in the heavens, let this too be granted for the present. But if, as seems
more likely, "according to fate" signifies not everything, but only that which follows in consequence of it, then not everything should be said to be "according to fate." For not everything that the law comprehends is lawful or in accordance with law: the law also comprehends treason and desertion and adultery and many other such things, none of which anyone would call lawful — just as one would not call distinguishing oneself in battle, or killing a tyrant, or any
other such achievement, "lawful" either. For what is lawful is a command of the law; whereas, if it is objected that since the law does command these things, how could those who fail to distinguish themselves in battle or to kill the tyrant, and all who fail to achieve such things, not be disobeying and transgressing the law? Or how, if these men are lawbreakers, is it not just to punish them? Since these consequences are unreasonable,
we must say that only those things determined by the law with reference to whatever is done in any manner whatsoever are properly called "lawful" and "in accordance with law"; and only those things that follow upon what has taken precedence in the divine ordering are properly called "fated" and "in accordance with fate." So that, while fate comprehends all things that come to be, it is not correct to say that many of the things within it — indeed nearly all that take precedence — happen "according to fate." Since this is
so, we must next say that what is in our power, and fortune, and the possible, and the contingent, and things akin to these, being ranked among the things that take precedence, would themselves be preserved, and would preserve fate as well. For fate embraces all things, just as it seems to; but these things will not come about of necessity, but rather each of them will be such as it is by nature.
Now the possible is, by nature, prior as a genus to the contingent; and the contingent underlies, as matter, what is in our power; and what is in our power consists in making authoritative use of the contingent; and fortune intrudes upon what is in our power because of the contingent's tendency to incline either way. You may understand clearly what is meant if you consider that everything that comes to be, and coming-to-be itself,
does not exist apart from potentiality (dynamis), and potentiality does not exist without substance — for instance, the coming-to-be or the generated thing that is "a man" does not exist apart from the potentiality, and this potentiality pertains to man, while man is the substance. Since potentiality lies between the two, substance is that which has the potentiality, while coming-to-be and the thing coming to be are both possible (in potentiality). Of these three, then — potentiality, that which has the potentiality, and the possible —
that which has the potentiality is presupposed as existing in relation to the potentiality, while the potentiality itself is presupposed in relation to the possible. The possible, then, is clear enough in this way too; but it might be defined in outline more generally as that which is naturally disposed, by virtue of potentiality, to come to be; and more strictly as this same thing, whenever nothing external stands in the way of its coming to be. And of possible things, some could never be prevented, such as the things in
the heavens — risings and settings and things of that kind — while others are of a sort that can be prevented, as are many human affairs and many meteorological phenomena as well. The former, then, since they come to be of necessity, are called necessary; while the latter, which in a sense admit of the opposite, are called contingent. And these too might be defined thus: the necessary is that possible thing whose opposite is impossible, while the contingent
is that possible thing whose opposite is also possible. For instance, that the sun should set is both necessary and possible, and its opposite, that it should not set, is impossible; whereas that, after the sun has set, rain should occur or should not occur, both are possible and contingent. Again, within the contingent, one kind occurs for the most part, another kind occurs less often, and another
occurs equally either way, whichever happens to be the case: this last is clearly opposed to itself, while the "for the most part" and the "less often" are opposed to one another. And these belong for the most part to nature, while the "equally either way" belongs to what is in our power. For instance, heat or cold at the rising of the Dog Star, of which the one occurs for the most part and the other less often,
are both subordinated to nature; whereas walking or not walking, and all such things, each of which is subordinated to human impulse, is what is called "in our power" and "in accordance with choice." But "what is in our power" is the more general term; for there are said to be two kinds: the one arising from passion, whether anger or desire, and the other arising from reasoning or thought — and this latter is what one would call, more properly,
"in accordance with choice." And it stands to reason that the possible and the contingent are not the same thing as this which is spoken of in terms of impulse and "in our power," but are spoken of in a different respect: the former in respect of the more general notion of possible and contingent, the latter in respect of the present matter, "in our power" and "in accordance with impulse." They might be defined thus: the contingent is that which, together with
its opposite, [is possible]; while what is in our power is one part of the contingent, namely that which is already coming to be in accordance with our own impulse. That the possible, then, is prior by nature to the contingent, and the contingent is presupposed prior to what is in our power, and what each of these is, and whence it derives its name, and the things closely related to them, has now been stated more or less fully. Concerning fortune, then, and
the automatic (chance), and whatever else is observed beside these, we must now speak. Fortune, then, is a kind of cause. Of causes, some are causes in themselves, others are causes incidentally: for instance, in the case of a house or a ship, the builder's art or the shipwright's art is the cause in itself, while the art of music or of geometry is an incidental cause, and so is anything else that happens to belong to the builder's
or the shipwright's craft, whether in respect of body, or of soul, or of external circumstances. From this it is also clear that what is a cause in itself is determinate and single, while what is a cause incidentally is not single but indeterminate; for many and indeed countless things, differing entirely from one another, may belong incidentally to the one thing. What is incidental, however, whenever it occurs not only among things done for the sake of something, but
also among things involving deliberate choice, is then also called "a result of fortune": for instance, finding gold while digging in order to plant something, or suffering or doing something outside of one's habit while fleeing or pursuing or walking along some other way, or merely turning around — not for the sake of the very thing that resulted, but for the sake of something else entirely. For this reason such a cause is also called unforeseen and unclear to human
attributed chance to reason — this was the view of some of the ancients. But according to the followers of Plato, who come still closer to the truth in their account, chance has been defined as follows: it is an incidental cause, among things that happen for the sake of something, in the sphere of what is done by choice. Then, further, they add to this the notions of ‘unforeseen’ and ‘unclear to human reckoning’; and yet the rare and the unaccountable likewise appear
in the incidental. What this is, even if not from what has just been said, is made perfectly plain from what is written in the Phaedo. It is written thus: ‘Did they not ask, then, in what manner he died?’ ‘Yes: someone brought us that news, and indeed we wondered that, though he was condemned so long before, he appears to have died only much later. What was the reason for this,
Phaedo?’ ‘A certain chance befell him, Echecrates: for it happened that on the day before the trial the stern of the ship which the Athenians send to Delos had been garlanded.’ In this passage ‘it happened’ must not be taken as equivalent to ‘it came to pass,’ but rather to mean that it fell out from a concurrence of causes, one thing happening in relation to another. For the priest garlanded the ship for one purpose,
but not for the sake of Socrates, while the judges condemned him for a different reason altogether; and the actual outcome turned out to be as unaccountable, and of such a kind, as if it had come about by the forethought of some human agent, or of beings even more powerful still. Concerning chance, then, this much may suffice — namely, that it must be understood to coexist with these causes, being itself named, in a derivative sense, from that with which it coexists, and that its priority over what is in our power has already been stated. As for the automatic —
it extends more widely than chance: for it embraces chance itself as well, and many other things too, of the sort that by nature fall out now one way, now another. According to its very name, the ‘automatic’ (auto-maton) is said of what comes about by nature for the sake of something else, when that other end is not in fact achieved on account of it — as, for instance, the cold that occurs under the Dog Star is thought to be automatic; for at times the cold is not without purpose, nor yet altogether so, just as what is ‘in our power’ is a portion of the ‘possible,’ so
chance is a portion of the automatic. Each of the two is an accident of the other: the automatic is an accident of the possible; chance is an accident of what is in our power, and not of the whole of it, but only of whatever falls also under choice, as has already been said. For this reason the automatic is common to both animate and inanimate things, whereas chance belongs properly to man alone, who is capable of already acting deliberately. And a proof of this is that faring well
and being happy are held to be the same thing; and happiness is a kind of well-doing, and well-doing belongs to man alone, and to the perfect man. Now within the scope of fate fall such things as these: the possible and the contingent; choice and what is in our power; chance and the automatic; and, alongside these, what is meant by ‘perhaps’ and ‘probably.’ All of these
fate encompasses, yet none of them exists in accordance with fate. It remains, then, to speak also of providence, inasmuch as providence itself encompasses fate. Now providence is, first and highest, the intellection of the first god — or, it may be, his will — being beneficent toward all things, in accordance with which each of the divine things has, in the first instance, been ordered throughout in the best and
most beautiful way. The second providence belongs to the secondary gods who move through the heavens, in accordance with which mortal things come to be in due order, together with whatever tends to the preservation and continuance of each of the kinds. A third providence might reasonably be said to belong to those spirits (daimones) who are stationed about the earth, as guardians and overseers of human actions. Providence, then, being considered under three aspects,
and the term being used most properly and chiefly of the first, I would not hesitate to say — even if I should seem to be speaking against the philosophers — that all things indeed happen in accordance with fate and in accordance with providence, yet not in accordance with nature; but that some things happen in accordance with this providence, others in accordance with another, and some in accordance with fate; and that fate is altogether in accordance with providence, whereas providence
is in no way in accordance with fate. Let the present discussion, then, concern the first and highest providence. Now that which is ‘in accordance with’ something is in a certain sense posterior to that in accordance with which it is said to be — as, for instance, that which is in accordance with law is posterior to the law, and that which is in accordance with nature is posterior to nature; so likewise that which is in accordance with fate would be more recent than fate itself. But the highest providence is the most ancient of all things,
excepting only that of which it is the providence — whether it be will, or intellection, or both together. It belongs, as has been said before, to the father and craftsman of all things. ‘Let us say, then,’ says Timaeus, ‘for what cause he who framed this generated universe framed it. He was good; and in one who is good no envy of anything ever arises concerning anything; and being free of envy, he desired all things to come to be, so far as possible,
like unto himself.’ This, then, one would be most right to accept, following men of understanding, as the supreme and most authoritative origin of generation and of the ordered universe. For the god, wishing all things to be good and nothing base, so far as this was possible, thus took over all that was visible, which was not at rest but moving in a discordant and disorderly fashion, and brought it into order out of
disorder, judging that order was in every way better than disorder. Now it was not, nor is it, lawful for the best to do anything other than what is most beautiful. These words, then, and what follows them, down to the point concerning human souls, must be reckoned as having been constituted, at least in their first instance, in accordance with providence. What follows, spoken in this manner: ‘Having composed the whole, he assigned to it souls equal in number to the stars, and distributed each soul to each star,
and having mounted them as it were in a vehicle, he showed them the nature of the universe, and told them the laws that are fated for them’ — who would not think that these words plainly and most clearly signify fate, as it were a kind of foundation and civic legislation appropriate to human souls? And indeed he goes on next to state the cause of this. He indicates the second providence in something like the following words, saying: ‘Having established all these laws for them,
so that he might be blameless in the future for the wickedness of each, he sowed some of them into the earth, others into the moon, and others into the various other instruments of time. And after the sowing, he handed over to the young gods the task of fashioning mortal bodies, and of completing whatever else remained needful for the human soul, and all that follows upon these things, and of ruling
and, so far as they were able, of governing the mortal creature in the finest and best manner possible, so that it might not itself become to itself a cause of evils.’ In these words, the clause ‘so that he might be blameless in the future for the wickedness of each’ signifies most clearly the cause of fate; while the ordering and creative work of the young gods reveals the second providence; and it seems in some way to touch upon the third as well, if
indeed it was for this purpose that the legislation was given: ‘so that he might be blameless thereafter for the wickedness of each.’ For god, having no share in wickedness, would have no need of laws or of fate; but each of the young gods, drawn along by the providence of him who begot them, does his own proper work. These statements, being true and consonant with Plato, seem to me to find clear corroborating testimony in the words spoken by the Lawgiver in the Laws, as follows:
‘Since, if ever any man were by nature sufficient, having been born by divine allotment, to grasp these things, he would have no need at all of laws to rule over him; for there is no law nor any ordinance superior to knowledge, nor is it right that intellect should be subject to and a slave of anything, but rather that it should rule over all things, provided it is truly and genuinely free according to its nature.’ I, for my part, take
Plato's words in this sense. For providence being threefold, the first — inasmuch as it begot fate — in a certain manner encompasses fate itself; the second, having been begotten together with fate, is altogether comprehended along with it; while the third, as having come into being after fate, is likewise contained within it, in the same way as what is ‘in our power’ and ‘chance’ have been said to be. ‘For those with whom
the power of the divine sign joins in the association’ — as Socrates says, expounding to Theages what amounts almost to an ordinance, and one such as belongs to Necessity (Adrasteia) — ‘these are they of whom you too have had experience; for they make rapid and immediate progress.’ In this passage, then, the phrase ‘the divine sign joins with certain persons’ must be assigned to the third providence, while ‘making rapid and immediate progress’ belongs to fate; and the whole matter is not
unclear, in that this very thing is itself a kind of fate. Perhaps, indeed, it would seem far more plausible in this way that the second providence too is encompassed by fate, and, quite simply, all things that come to be — if indeed the fate that concerns substance has rightly been divided by us into the three portions, and the account of the chain includes the revolutions of the heavens among the things that follow from a given hypothesis.
But concerning these matters I myself would not wish to contend further, since they were originally stated only as hypotheses, rather than to say that it is more in keeping with fate that fate itself should take precedence as fated. Our own account, then, stated in its main points, would be something of this sort; while the account opposed to it places everything not merely within fate but also in accordance with fate. Now all these points agree with one another; and
whatever is consonant with the one is plainly consonant with the other as well. According to the present account, then, the contingent has been discussed first; and second, what is in our power; and third, chance and the automatic and whatever follows from them; praise and blame and their kindred notions come fourth; and fifth, and beyond all these, let there be reckoned prayers to the gods and their service. As for idle
and ‘reaping’ arguments, and the so-called argument ‘against fate,’ these turn out, according to the present account, to be sophisms in the truest sense. According to the opposite account, on the other hand, the first and foremost point would seem to be that nothing happens without a cause, but everything in accordance with antecedent causes; second, that this world is by nature governed as a single organism, breathing together and sympathetic with itself; and third, matters which
seem rather to serve as further testimonies — divination, in the first place, held in honor by all mankind as truly belonging to the gods; and second, the contentment of the wise with whatever befalls them, on the ground that all things happen according to what is allotted; and third, that much-repeated maxim, that every proposition is either true or false. Of these matters we have made mention only to this extent, so that the main
heads of the doctrine of fate might be set forth briefly, points which must be examined by the exact test of each of the two accounts; the particulars of each of these we shall take up on another occasion.