In days of old the tripod was the three-legged magic stand for prophecy, at Delphi for instance, and from it rang out the oracle, the counsel that guided life. In antiquity Plutarch paired eminent Romans with distinguished Greeks. His chief work, the Parallel Lives, still gave Nietzsche the hope that a hundred men raised on Plutarch would silence for ever the whole noisy pseudo-culture of the mid-nineteenth century.
But where is Plutarch today? And who reads him at all? Today pseudo-Plutarchs write the Parallel Auto-biographies, and the author is always ourselves, and the subject, too, is always ourselves: the story begins with us and with us it ends. In the course of our lives we write the closing lines of our soul-poem, and so we make whole the stanza whose opening lines were planted in us by the Creator.
Be pure as water,
be bright as fire!
Be peaceful as the earth,
be strong as the wind!
Who knows in what depths of time these lines were inscribed? An ancient quotation preserved through transmission between cultures? A soul-flight put into words in the solitude of a cloister? Far Eastern wisdom tuned for all time? Or a string of similes from nature that, under every sky, in every age, in every circumstance, may apply to any one of us? Perhaps even the pragmatic worldly wisdom and summons of our own age? It may be any of these, and none…
But then what is man: water vapour? Or a drop of fire? A clod of earth or a breath of wind? It is a poetic line of thought, and any of these similes holds true of man. A natural bond knits us into the fabric of the universe, into which the warp and weft of existence weave the pattern of each individual fate's possibilities. This pattern traces man's character as it stands at any given moment, and also his eternal, ideal nature. The primal qualities of the soul that has come into earthly existence and been shut inside a physical body are water-purity, fire-light, earth-peace and wind-strength, but when its life turns false, distorted and unbridled, the water vapour becomes a deluge, the spark a blaze, the peaceful earth begins to quake, and the breeze turns into a raging storm. The hidden possibility may degenerate into extreme calamity, and the chance of perfection goes to waste.
Let your inquiries begin with knowing yourself, for it is to be feared that if you neglect yourself, you will reach out towards others in vain. For there are many who, though they know much, know nothing of themselves; while their eyes are on others, they forget themselves. … Therefore I turn from the outer world into my inner self, I rise from the depths to the heights, so that I may know: where I come from, where I am going, where I spring from, and what I am. In this way, coming to know myself leads me to knowing God as well. … Examine yourself, then, every day. Keep an exact account of how far you have gone forward, and how far back. What are your habits, what is your disposition, how great is the likeness, and how great the difference, between you and God, how far have you drawn nearer to him, and how far have you moved away from him? Enter into yourself, then, if not constantly, at least from time to time, govern your feelings, direct your actions, and correct your steps. (St Bernard's counsels to Pope Eugene)
The voice that rings out from the tripod (ex tripode) calls to you thus: From yourself – to your true self! And it is to be hoped that a hundred men raised on pseudo-Plutarch and wholly clear about who they are could silence our age's clamour of quasi-self-knowledge. For self-knowledge is the metaphysical task of genuine spiritual development.