“metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
  Subjecit pedibus.”

In his whole character, Plutarch shows himself one of the best examples of the intelligent heathen of the later classic period.  His Writings contain the practical essence of the results of Greek and Roman life and thought.  His intellect, equally removed from superstition and from skepticism, was open with a large receptiveness, which sometimes approaches to credulity, to the traditions of early wonders, to the reports of recent miracles, and to the stories of the deeds and sayings of men.[N] The evidence upon which he reports is often insufficient to establish the statements that he makes; but his readiness to tell the current stories gives to his biographies a peculiar interest, adding to their entertainment, and at the same time to their value as representations of common beliefs and popular fancies.  He is one of the best story-tellers of antiquity, and from his works a series of “Percy Anecdotes” of ancient men might easily be compiled.  “Such anecdotes will not,” says he, in his Life of Timoleon, “be thought, I conceive, either foreign to my purpose of writing lives, or unprofitable in themselves, by such readers as are not in too much haste, or busied and taken up with other concerns.”  It is this fulness of anecdote, which, perhaps, more than any other quality of his writings, makes him the favorite of boys as well as of men.  He treasures up pithy sayings, and his own reflections are often epigrammatic in expression, and always full of good sense.

[Footnote N:  There are two remarkable passages in the Life of Coriolanus which illustrate Plutarch’s opinions upon these points.  The first (ii. 91) treats of the divine influence on the human will and action; the second (ii. 97-98) relates to the mode of regarding events seemingly incredible.  This latter is peculiarly distinguished by its good sense and clear statement.  It closes with the memorable saying, “Knowledge of divine things for the most part, as Heraclitus says, is lost to us by incredulity.”]

In his Life of Demosthenes, in a passage which is pleasant on account of its personal reference, Plutarch speaks of the advantage that it would be for a writer like himself to reside in some city addicted to liberal arts, and populous, where he might have access to many books, and to many persons from whom he might gather up such facts as books do not contain.  “But as for me,” he says, “I live in a little town, where I am willing to continue, lest it should grow less.”  And he goes on to excuse himself for his imperfect knowledge of the Roman tongue, which unfits him to draw a comparison between the orations of Demosthenes and of Cicero.  But, although his acquaintance with the structure and powers of the language may have been insufficient to enable him to venture on literary criticism, his acquaintance with the books of the Romans was considerable, and he had thoroughly studied the Greek authors who had written