{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_14988/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_14988","id":"gutenberg_14988","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14988","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Classical Antiquity","Gods, Roman -- Early works to 1800","Happiness -- Early works to 1800","Political science -- Early works to 1800","Rome -- Politics and government -- 265-30 B.C.","State, The -- Early works to 1800","Theology -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"Produced by Ted Garvin, Hagen von Eitzen and the PG Online Distributed\nProofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\nCICERO'S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS;\n\n\n\n\nALSO, TREATISES ON\n\nTHE NATURE OF THE GODS,\n\nAND ON\n\nTHE COMMONWEALTH.\n\n\n\n\n\nLITERALLY TRANSLATED, CHIEFLY BY\nC. D. YONGE.\n\n\nNEW YORK:\nHARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,\nFRANKLIN SQUARE.\n1877.\n\n\nHARPER'S NEW CLASSICAL LIBRARY.\n\n\nCOMPRISING LITERAL TRANSLATIONS OF\n\n\n  CAESAR.\n  VIRGIL.\n  SALLUST.\n  HORACE.\n  CICERO'S ORATIONS.\n  CICERO'S OFFICES &c.\n  CICERO ON ORATORY AND ORATORS.\n  CICERO'S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS, the Republic, and the Nature of the Gods.\n  TERENCE.\n  TACITUS.\n  LIVY. 2 Vols.\n  JUVENAL.\n  XENOPHON.\n  HOMER'S ILIAD.\n  HOMER'S ODYSSEY.\n  HERODOTUS.\n  DEMOSTHENES. 2 Vols.\n  THUCIDIDES.\n  AESCHYLUS.\n  SOPHOCLES.\n  EURIPIDES. 2 Vols.\n  PLATO. [SELECT DIALOGUES.]\n\n\n12mo, Cloth, $1.50 per Volume.\n\n\nHARPER & BROTHERS _will send either of the above works by mail, postage\nprepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price_.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nThe greater portion of the Republic was previously translated by\nFrancis Barham, Esq., and published in 1841. Although ably performed,\nit was not sufficiently close for the purpose of the \"CLASSICAL\nLIBRARY,\" and was therefore placed in the hands of the present editor\nfor revision, as well as for collation with recent texts. This has\noccasioned material alterations and additions.\n\nThe treatise \"On the Nature of the Gods\" is a revision of that usually\nascribed to the celebrated Benjamin Franklin.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n_Tusculan Disputations_\n\n_On the Nature of the Gods_\n\n_On the Commonwealth_\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS.\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nIn the year A.U.C. 708, and the sixty-second year of Cicero's age, his\ndaughter, Tullia, died in childbed; and her loss afflicted Cicero to\nsuch a degree that he abandoned all public business, and, leaving the\ncity, retired to Asterra, which was a country house that he had near\nAntium; where, after a while, he devoted himself to philosophical\nstudies, and, besides other works, he published his Treatise de\nFinibus, and also this treatise called the Tusculan Disputations, of\nwhich Middleton gives this concise description:\n\n\"The first book teaches us how to contemn the terrors of death, and to\nlook upon it as a blessing rather than an evil;\n\n\"The second, to support pain and affliction with a manly fortitude;\n\n\"The third, to appease all our complaints and uneasinesses under the\naccidents of life;\n\n\"The fourth, to moderate all our other passions;\n\n\"And the fifth explains the sufficiency of virtue to make men happy.\"\n\nIt was his custom in the opportunities of his leisure to take some\nfriends with him into the country, where, instead of amusing themselves\nwith idle sports or feasts, their diversions were wholly speculative,\ntending to improve the mind and enlarge the understanding. In this\nmanner he now spent five days at his Tusculan villa in discussing with\nhis friends the several questions just mentioned. For, after employing\nthe mornings in declaiming and rhetorical exercises, they used to\nretire in the afternoon into a gallery, called the Academy, which he\nhad built for the purpose of philosophical conferences, where, after\nthe manner of the Greeks, he held a school, as they called it, and\ninvited the company to call for any subject that they desired to hear\nexplained, which being proposed accordingly by some of the audience\nbecame immediately the argument of that day's debate. These five\nconferences, or dialogues, he collected afterward into writing in the\nvery words and manner in which they really passed; and published them\nunder the title of his Tusculan Disputations, from the name of the\nvilla in which they were held.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\nON THE CONTEMPT OF DEATH.\n\n\nI. At a time when I had entirely, or to a great degree, released myself\nfrom my labors as an advocate, and from my duties as a senator, I had\nrecourse again, Brutus, principally by your advice, to those studies\nwhich never had been out of my mind, although neglected at times, and\nwhich after a long interval I resumed; and now, since the principles\nand rules of all arts which relate to living well depend on the study\nof wisdom, which is called philosophy, I have thought it an employment\nworthy of me to illustrate them in the Latin tongue, not because\nphilosophy could not be understood in the Greek language, or by the\nteaching of Greek masters; but it has always been my opinion that our\ncountrymen have, in some instances, made wiser discoveries than the\nGreeks, with reference to those subjects which they have considered\nworthy of devoting their attention to, and in others have improved upon\ntheir discoveries, so that in one way or other we surpass them on every\npoint; for, with regard to the manners and habits of private life, and\nfamily and domestic affairs, we certainly manage them with more\nelegance, and better than they did; and as to our republic, that our\nancestors have, beyond all dispute, formed on better customs and laws.\nWhat shall I say of our military affairs; in which our ancestors have\nbeen most eminent in valor, and still more so in discipline? As to\nthose things which are attained not by study, but nature, neither\nGreece, nor any nation, is comparable to us; for what people has\ndisplayed such gravity, such steadiness, such greatness of soul,\nprobity, faith--such distinguished virtue of every kind, as to be equal\nto our ancestors. In learning, indeed, and all kinds of literature,\nGreece did excel us, and it was easy to do so where there was no\ncompetition; for while among the Greeks the poets were the most ancient\nspecies of learned men--since Homer and Hesiod lived before the\nfoundation of Rome, and Archilochus[1] was a contemporary of\nRomulus--we received poetry much later. For it was about five hundred\nand ten years after the building of Rome before Livius[2] published a\nplay in the consulship of C. Claudius, the son of Caecus, and M.\nTuditanus, a year before the birth of Ennius, who was older than\nPlautus and Naevius.\n\nII. It was, therefore, late before poets were either known or received\namong us; though we find in Cato de Originibus that the guests used, at\ntheir entertainments, to sing the praises of famous men to the sound of\nthe flute; but a speech of Cato's shows this kind of poetry to have\nbeen in no great esteem, as he censures Marcus Nobilior for carrying\npoets with him into his province; for that consul, as we know, carried\nEnnius with him into AEtolia. Therefore the less esteem poets were in,\nthe less were those studies pursued; though even then those who did\ndisplay the greatest abilities that way were not very inferior to the\nGreeks. Do we imagine that if it had been considered commendable in\nFabius,[3] a man of the highest rank, to paint, we should not have had\nmany Polycleti and Parrhasii? Honor nourishes art, and glory is the\nspur with all to studies; while those studies are always neglected in\nevery nation which are looked upon disparagingly. The Greeks held skill\nin vocal and instrumental music as a very important accomplishment, and\ntherefore it is recorded of Epaminondas, who, in my opinion, was the\ngreatest man among the Greeks, that he played excellently on the flute;\nand Themistocles, some years before, was deemed ignorant because at an\nentertainment he declined the lyre when it was offered to him. For this\nreason musicians flourished in Greece; music was a general study; and\nwhoever was unacquainted with it was not considered as fully instructed\nin learning. Geometry was in high esteem with them, therefore none were\nmore honorable than mathematicians. But we have confined this art to\nbare measuring and calculating.\n\nIII. But, on the contrary, we early entertained an esteem for the\norator; though he was not at first a man of learning, but only quick at\nspeaking: in subsequent times he became learned; for it is reported\nthat Galba, Africanus, and Laelius were men of learning; and that even\nCato, who preceded them in point of time, was a studious man: then\nsucceeded the Lepidi, Carbo, and Gracchi, and so many great orators\nafter them, down to our own times, that we were very little, if at all,\ninferior to the Greeks. Philosophy has been at a low ebb even to this\npresent time, and has had no assistance from our own language, and so\nnow I have undertaken to raise and illustrate it, in order that, as I\nhave been of service to my countrymen, when employed on public affairs,\nI may, if possible, be so likewise in my retirement; and in this I must\ntake the more pains, because there are already many books in the Latin\nlanguage which are said to be written inaccurately, having been\ncomposed by excellent men, only not of sufficient learning; for,\nindeed, it is possible that a man may think well, and yet not be able\nto express his thoughts elegantly; but for any one to publish thoughts\nwhich he can neither arrange skilfully nor illustrate so as to\nentertain his reader, is an unpardonable abuse of letters and\nretirement: they, therefore, read their books to one another, and no\none ever takes them up but those who wish to have the same license for\ncareless writing allowed to themselves. Wherefore, if oratory has\nacquired any reputation from my industry, I shall take the more pains\nto open the fountains of philosophy, from which all my eloquence has\ntaken its rise.\n\nIV. But, as Aristotle,[4] a man of the greatest genius, and of the most\nvarious knowledge, being excited by the glory of the rhetorician\nIsocrates,[5] commenced teaching young men to speak, and joined\nphilosophy with eloquence: so it is my design not to lay aside my\nformer study of oratory, and yet to employ myself at the same time in\nthis greater and more fruitful art; for I have always thought that to\nbe able to speak copiously and elegantly on the most important\nquestions was the most perfect philosophy. And I have so diligently\napplied myself to this pursuit, that I have already ventured to have a\nschool like the Greeks. And lately when you left us, having many of my\nfriends about me, I attempted at my Tusculan villa what I could do in\nthat way; for as I formerly used to practise declaiming, which nobody\ncontinued longer than myself, so this is now to be the declamation of\nmy old age. I desired any one to propose a question which he wished to\nhave discussed, and then I argued that point either sitting or walking;\nand so I have compiled the scholae, as the Greeks call them, of five\ndays, in as many books. We proceeded in this manner: when he who had\nproposed the subject for discussion had said what he thought proper, I\nspoke against him; for this is, you know, the old and Socratic method\nof arguing against another's opinion; for Socrates thought that thus\nthe truth would more easily be arrived at. But to give you a better\nnotion of our disputations, I will not barely send you an account of\nthem, but represent them to you as they were carried on; therefore let\nthe introduction be thus:\n\nV. _A._ To me death seems to be an evil.\n\n_M._ What, to those who are already dead? or to those who must die?\n\n_A._ To both.\n\n_M._ It is a misery, then, because an evil?\n\n_A._ Certainly.\n\n_M._ Then those who have already died, and those who have still got to\ndie, are both miserable?\n\n_A._ So it appears to me.\n\n_M._ Then all are miserable?\n\n_A._ Every one.\n\n_M._ And, indeed, if you wish to be consistent, all that are already\nborn, or ever shall be, are not only miserable, but always will be so;\nfor should you maintain those only to be miserable, you would not\nexcept any one living, for all must die; but there should be an end of\nmisery in death. But seeing that the dead are miserable, we are born to\neternal misery, for they must of consequence be miserable who died a\nhundred thousand years ago; or rather, all that have ever been born.\n\n_A._ So, indeed, I think.\n\n_M._ Tell me, I beseech you, are you afraid of the three-headed\nCerberus in the shades below, and the roaring waves of Cocytus, and the\npassage over Acheron, and Tantalus expiring with thirst, while the\nwater touches his chin; and Sisyphus,\n\n    Who sweats with arduous toil in vain\n    The steepy summit of the mount to gain?\n\nPerhaps, too, you dread the inexorable judges, Minos and Rhadamanthus;\nbefore whom neither L. Crassus nor M. Antonius can defend you; and\nwhere, since the cause lies before Grecian judges, you will not even be\nable to employ Demosthenes; but you must plead for yourself before a\nvery great assembly. These things perhaps you dread, and therefore look\non death as an eternal evil.\n\nVI. _A._ Do you take me to be so imbecile as to give credit to such\nthings?\n\n_M._ What, do you not believe them?\n\n_A._ Not in the least.\n\n_M._ I am sorry to hear that.\n\n_A._ Why, I beg?\n\n_M._ Because I could have been very eloquent in speaking against them.\n\n_A._ And who could not on such a subject? or what trouble is it to\nrefute these monstrous inventions of the poets and painters?[6]\n\n_M._ And yet you have books of philosophers full of arguments against\nthese.\n\n_A._ A great waste of time, truly! for who is so weak as to be\nconcerned about them?\n\n_M._ If, then, there is no one miserable in the infernal regions, there\ncan be no one there at all.\n\n_A._ I am altogether of that opinion.\n\n_M._ Where, then, are those you call miserable? or what place do they\ninhabit? For, if they exist at all, they must be somewhere.\n\n_A._ I, indeed, am of opinion that they are nowhere.\n\n_M._ Then they have no existence at all.\n\n_A._ Even so, and yet they are miserable for this very reason, that\nthey have no existence.\n\n_M._ I had rather now have you afraid of Cerberus than speak thus\ninaccurately.\n\n_A._ In what respect?\n\n_M._ Because you admit him to exist whose existence you deny with the\nsame breath. Where now is your sagacity? When you say any one is\nmiserable, you say that he who does not exist, does exist.\n\n_A._ I am not so absurd as to say that.\n\n_M._ What is it that you do say, then?\n\n_A._ I say, for instance, that Marcus Crassus is miserable in being\ndeprived of such great riches as his by death; that Cn. Pompey is\nmiserable in being taken from such glory and honor; and, in short, that\nall are miserable who are deprived of this light of life.\n\n_M._ You have returned to the same point, for to be miserable implies\nan existence; but you just now denied that the dead had any existence:\nif, then, they have not, they can be nothing; and if so, they are not\neven miserable.\n\n_A._ Perhaps I do not express what I mean, for I look upon this very\ncircumstance, not to exist after having existed, to be very miserable.\n\n_M._ What, more so than not to have existed at all? Therefore, those\nwho are not yet born are miserable because they are not; and we\nourselves, if we are to be miserable after death, were miserable before\nwe were born: but I do not remember that I was miserable before I was\nborn; and I should be glad to know, if your memory is better, what you\nrecollect of yourself before you were born.\n\nVII. _A._ You are pleasant: as if I had said that those men are\nmiserable who are not born, and not that they are so who are dead.\n\n_M._ You say, then, that they are so?\n\n_A._ Yes; I say that because they no longer exist after having existed\nthey are miserable.\n\n_M._ You do not perceive that you are asserting contradictions; for\nwhat is a greater contradiction, than that that should be not only\nmiserable, but should have any existence at all, which does not exist?\nWhen you go out at the Capene gate and see the tombs of the Calatini,\nthe Scipios, Servilii, and Metelli, do you look on them as miserable?\n\n_A._ Because you press me with a word, henceforward I will not say they\nare miserable absolutely, but miserable on this account, because they\nhave no existence.\n\n_M._ You do not say, then, \"M. Crassus is miserable,\" but only\n\"Miserable M. Crassus.\"\n\n_A._ Exactly so.\n\n_M._ As if it did not follow that whatever you speak of in that manner\neither is or is not. Are you not acquainted with the first principles\nof logic? For this is the first thing they lay down, Whatever is\nasserted (for that is the best way that occurs to me, at the moment, of\nrendering the Greek term [Greek: axioma]; if I can think of a more\naccurate expression hereafter, I will use it), is asserted as being\neither true or false. When, therefore, you say, \"Miserable M. Crassus,\"\nyou either say this, \"M. Crassus is miserable,\" so that some judgment\nmay be made whether it is true or false, or you say nothing at all.\n\n_A._ Well, then, I now own that the dead are not miserable, since you\nhave drawn from me a concession that they who do not exist at all can\nnot be miserable. What then? We that are alive, are we not wretched,\nseeing we must die? for what is there agreeable in life, when we must\nnight and day reflect that, at some time or other, we must die?\n\nVIII. _M._ Do you not, then, perceive how great is the evil from which\nyou have delivered human nature?\n\n_A._ By what means?\n\n_M._ Because, if to die were miserable to the dead, to live would be a\nkind of infinite and eternal misery. Now, however, I see a goal, and\nwhen I have reached it, there is nothing more to be feared; but you\nseem to me to follow the opinion of Epicharmus,[7] a man of some\ndiscernment, and sharp enough for a Sicilian.\n\n_A._ What opinion? for I do not recollect it.\n\n_M._ I will tell you if I can in Latin; for you know I am no more used\nto bring in Latin sentences in a Greek discourse than Greek in a Latin\none.\n\n_A._ And that is right enough. But what is that opinion of Epicharmus?\n\n_M._\n    I would not die, but yet\n    Am not concerned that I shall be dead.\n\n_A._ I now recollect the Greek; but since you have obliged me to grant\nthat the dead are not miserable, proceed to convince me that it is not\nmiserable to be under a necessity of dying.\n\n_M._ That is easy enough; but I have greater things in hand.\n\n_A._ How comes that to be so easy? And what are those things of more\nconsequence?\n\n_M._ Thus: because, if there is no evil after death, then even death\nitself can be none; for that which immediately succeeds that is a state\nwhere you grant that there is no evil: so that even to be obliged to\ndie can be no evil, for that is only the being obliged to arrive at a\nplace where we allow that no evil is.\n\n_A._ I beg you will be more explicit on this point, for these subtle\narguments force me sooner to admissions than to conviction. But what\nare those more important things about which you say that you are\noccupied?\n\n_M._ To teach you, if I can, that death is not only no evil, but a\ngood.\n\n_A._ I do not insist on that, but should be glad to hear you argue it,\nfor even though you should not prove your point, yet you will prove\nthat death is no evil. But I will not interrupt you; I would rather\nhear a continued discourse.\n\n_M._ What, if I should ask you a question, would you not answer?\n\n_A._ That would look like pride; but I would rather you should not ask\nbut where necessity requires.\n\nIX. _M._ I will comply with your wishes, and explain as well as I can\nwhat you require; but not with any idea that, like the Pythian Apollo,\nwhat I say must needs be certain and indisputable, but as a mere man,\nendeavoring to arrive at probabilities by conjecture, for I have no\nground to proceed further on than probability. Those men may call their\nstatements indisputable who assert that what they say can be perceived\nby the senses, and who proclaim themselves philosophers by profession.\n\n_A._ Do as you please: We are ready to hear you.\n\n_M._ The first thing, then, is to inquire what death, which seems to be\nso well understood, really is; for some imagine death to be the\ndeparture of the soul from the body; others think that there is no such\ndeparture, but that soul and body perish together, and that the soul is\nextinguished with the body. Of those who think that the soul does\ndepart from the body, some believe in its immediate dissolution; others\nfancy that it continues to exist for a time; and others believe that it\nlasts forever. There is great dispute even what the soul is, where it\nis, and whence it is derived: with some, the heart itself (_cor_) seems\nto be the soul, hence the expressions, _excordes_, _vecordes_,\n_concordes;_ and that prudent Nasica, who was twice consul, was called\nCorculus, _i.e._, wise-heart; and AElius Sextus is described as\n_Egregie_ cordatus _homo, catus AEliu' Sextus_--that great\n_wise-hearted_ man, sage AElius. Empedocles imagines the blood, which is\nsuffused over the heart, to be the soul; to others, a certain part of\nthe brain seems to be the throne of the soul; others neither allow the\nheart itself, nor any portion of the brain, to be the soul, but think\neither that the heart is the seat and abode of the soul, or else that\nthe brain is so. Some would have the soul, or spirit, to be the\n_anima_, as our schools generally agree; and indeed the name signifies\nas much, for we use the expressions _animam agere_, to live; _animam\nefflare_, to expire; _animosi_, men of spirit; _bene animati_, men of\nright feeling; _exanimi sententia_, according to our real opinion; and\nthe very word _animus_ is derived from _anima_. Again, the soul seems\nto Zeno the Stoic to be fire.\n\nX. But what I have said as to the heart, the blood, the brain, air, or\nfire being the soul, are common opinions: the others are only\nentertained by individuals; and, indeed, there were many among the\nancients who held singular opinions on this subject, of whom the latest\nwas Aristoxenus, a man who was both a musician and a philosopher. He\nmaintained a certain straining of the body, like what is called harmony\nin music, to be the soul, and believed that, from the figure and nature\nof the whole body, various motions are excited, as sounds are from an\ninstrument. He adhered steadily to his system, and yet he said\nsomething, the nature of which, whatever it was, had been detailed and\nexplained a great while before by Plato. Xenocrates denied that the\nsoul had any figure, or anything like a body; but said it was a number,\nthe power of which, as Pythagoras had fancied, some ages before, was\nthe greatest in nature: his master, Plato, imagined a threefold soul, a\ndominant portion of which--that is to say, reason--he had lodged in the\nhead, as in a tower; and the other two parts--namely, anger and\ndesire--he made subservient to this one, and allotted them distinct\nabodes, placing anger in the breast, and desire under the praecordia.\nBut Dicaearchus, in that discourse of some learned disputants, held at\nCorinth, which he details to us in three books--in the first book\nintroduces many speakers; and in the other two he introduces a certain\nPherecrates, an old man of Phthia, who, as he said, was descended from\nDeucalion; asserting, that there is in fact no such thing at all as a\nsoul, but that it is a name without a meaning; and that it is idle to\nuse the expression \"animals,\" or \"animated beings;\" that neither men\nnor beasts have minds or souls, but that all that power by which we act\nor perceive is equally infused into every living creature, and is\ninseparable from the body, for if it were not, it would be nothing; nor\nis there anything whatever really existing except body, which is a\nsingle and simple thing, so fashioned as to live and have its\nsensations in consequence of the regulations of nature. Aristotle, a\nman superior to all others, both in genius and industry (I always\nexcept Plato), after having embraced these four known sorts of\nprinciples, from which all things deduce their origin, imagines that\nthere is a certain fifth nature, from whence comes the soul; for to\nthink, to foresee, to learn, to teach, to invent anything, and many\nother attributes of the same kind, such as to remember, to love, to\nhate, to desire, to fear, to be pleased or displeased--these, and\nothers like them, exist, he thinks, in none of those first four kinds:\non such account he adds a fifth kind, which has no name, and so by a\nnew name he calls the soul [Greek: endelecheia], as if it were a\ncertain continued and perpetual motion.\n\nXI. If I have not forgotten anything unintentionally, these are the\nprincipal opinions concerning the soul. I have omitted Democritus, a\nvery great man indeed, but one who deduces the soul from the fortuitous\nconcourse of small, light, and round substances; for, if you believe\nmen of his school, there is nothing which a crowd of atoms cannot\neffect. Which of these opinions is true, some God must determine. It is\nan important question for us, Which has the most appearance of truth?\nShall we, then, prefer determining between them, or shall we return to\nour subject?\n\n_A._ I could wish both, if possible; but it is difficult to mix them:\ntherefore, if without a discussion of them we can get rid of the fears\nof death, let us proceed to do so; but if this is not to be done\nwithout explaining the question about souls, let us have that now, and\nthe other at another time.\n\n_M._ I take that plan to be the best, which I perceive you are inclined\nto; for reason will demonstrate that, whichever of the opinions which I\nhave stated is true, it must follow, then, that death cannot be an\nevil; or that it must rather be something desirable; for if either the\nheart, or the blood, or the brain, is the soul, then certainly the\nsoul, being corporeal, must perish with the rest of the body; if it is\nair, it will perhaps be dissolved; if it is fire, it will be\nextinguished; if it is Aristoxenus's harmony, it will be put out of\ntune. What shall I say of Dicaearchus, who denies that there is any\nsoul? In all these opinions, there is nothing to affect any one after\ndeath; for all feeling is lost with life, and where there is no\nsensation, nothing can interfere to affect us. The opinions of others\ndo indeed bring us hope; if it is any pleasure to you to think that\nsouls, after they leave the body, may go to heaven as to a permanent\nhome.\n\n_A._ I have great pleasure in that thought, and it is what I most\ndesire; and even if it should not be so, I should still be very willing\nto believe it.\n\n_M._ What occasion have you, then, for my assistance? Am I superior to\nPlato in eloquence? Turn over carefully his book that treats of the\nsoul; you will have there all that you can want.\n\n_A._ I have, indeed, done that, and often; but, I know not how it comes\nto pass, I agree with it while I am reading it; but when I have laid\ndown the book, and begin to reflect with myself on the immortality of\nthe soul, all that agreement vanishes.\n\n_M._ How comes that? Do you admit this--that souls either exist after\ndeath, or else that they also perish at the moment of death?\n\n_A._ I agree to that. And if they do exist, I admit that they are\nhappy; but if they perish, I cannot suppose them to be unhappy,\nbecause, in fact, they have no existence at all. You drove me to that\nconcession but just now.\n\n_M._ How, then, can you, or why do you, assert that you think that\ndeath is an evil, when it either makes us happy, in the case of the\nsoul continuing to exist, or, at all events, not unhappy, in the case\nof our becoming destitute of all sensation?\n\nXII. _A._ Explain, therefore, if it is not troublesome to you, first,\nif you can, that souls do exist after death; secondly, should you fail\nin that (and it is a very difficult thing to establish), that death is\nfree from all evil; for I am not without my fears that this itself is\nan evil: I do not mean the immediate deprivation of sense, but the fact\nthat we shall hereafter suffer deprivation.\n\n_M._ I have the best authority in support of the opinion you desire to\nhave established, which ought, and generally has, great weight in all\ncases. And, first, I have all antiquity on that side, which the more\nnear it is to its origin and divine descent, the more clearly, perhaps,\non that account, did it discern the truth in these matters. This very\ndoctrine, then, was adopted by all those ancients whom Ennius calls in\nthe Sabine tongue Casci; namely, that in death there was a sensation,\nand that, when men departed this life, they were not so entirely\ndestroyed as to perish absolutely. And this may appear from many other\ncircumstances, and especially from the pontifical rites and funeral\nobsequies, which men of the greatest genius would not have been so\nsolicitous about, and would not have guarded from any injury by such\nsevere laws, but from a firm persuasion that death was not so entire a\ndestruction as wholly to abolish and destroy everything, but rather a\nkind of transmigration, as it were, and change of life, which was, in\nthe case of illustrious men and women, usually a guide to heaven, while\nin that of others it was still confined to the earth, but in such a\nmanner as still to exist. From this, and the sentiments of the Romans,\n\n    In heaven Romulus with Gods now lives,\n\nas Ennius saith, agreeing with the common belief; hence, too, Hercules\nis considered so great and propitious a God among the Greeks, and from\nthem he was introduced among us, and his worship has extended even to\nthe very ocean itself. This is how it was that Bacchus was deified, the\noffspring of Semele; and from the same illustrious fame we receive\nCastor and Pollux as Gods, who are reported not only to have helped the\nRomans to victory in their battles, but to have been the messengers of\ntheir success. What shall we say of Ino, the daughter of Cadmus? Is she\nnot called Leucothea by the Greeks, and Matuta by us? Nay, more; is not\nthe whole of heaven (not to dwell on particulars) almost filled with\nthe offspring of men?\n\nShould I attempt to search into antiquity, and produce from thence what\nthe Greek writers have asserted, it would appear that even those who\nare called their principal Gods were taken from among men up into\nheaven.\n\nXIII. Examine the sepulchres of those which are shown in Greece;\nrecollect, for you have been initiated, what lessons are taught in the\nmysteries; then will you perceive how extensive this doctrine is. But\nthey who were not acquainted with natural philosophy (for it did not\nbegin to be in vogue till many years later) had no higher belief than\nwhat natural reason could give them; they were not acquainted with the\nprinciples and causes of things; they were often induced by certain\nvisions, and those generally in the night, to think that those men who\nhad departed from this life were still alive. And this may further be\nbrought as an irrefragable argument for us to believe that there are\nGods--that there never was any nation so barbarous, nor any people in\nthe world so savage, as to be without some notion of Gods. Many have\nwrong notions of the Gods, for that is the nature and ordinary\nconsequence of bad customs, yet all allow that there is a certain\ndivine nature and energy. Nor does this proceed from the conversation\nof men, or the agreement of philosophers; it is not an opinion\nestablished by institutions or by laws; but, no doubt, in every case\nthe consent of all nations is to be looked on as a law of nature. Who\nis there, then, that does not lament the loss of his friends,\nprincipally from imagining them deprived of the conveniences of life?\nTake away this opinion, and you remove with it all grief; for no one is\nafflicted merely on account of a loss sustained by himself. Perhaps we\nmay be sorry, and grieve a little; but that bitter lamentation and\nthose mournful tears have their origin in our apprehensions that he\nwhom we loved is deprived of all the advantages of life, and is\nsensible of his loss. And we are led to this opinion by nature, without\nany arguments or any instruction.\n\nXIV. But the greatest proof of all is, that nature herself gives a\nsilent judgment in favor of the immortality of the soul, inasmuch as\nall are anxious, and that to a great degree, about the things which\nconcern futurity:\n\n    One plants what future ages shall enjoy,\n\nas Statius saith in his Synephebi. What is his object in doing so,\nexcept that he is interested in posterity? Shall the industrious\nhusbandman, then, plant trees the fruit of which he shall never see?\nAnd shall not the great man found laws, institutions, and a republic?\nWhat does the procreation of children imply, and our care to continue\nour names, and our adoptions, and our scrupulous exactness in drawing\nup wills, and the inscriptions on monuments, and panegyrics, but that\nour thoughts run on futurity? There is no doubt but a judgment may be\nformed of nature in general, from looking at each nature in its most\nperfect specimens; and what is a more perfect specimen of a man than\nthose are who look on themselves as born for the assistance, the\nprotection, and the preservation of others? Hercules has gone to\nheaven; he never would have gone thither had he not, while among men,\nmade that road for himself. These things are of old date, and have,\nbesides, the sanction of universal religion.\n\nXV. What will you say? What do you imagine that so many and such great\nmen of our republic, who have sacrificed their lives for its good,\nexpected? Do you believe that they thought that their names should not\ncontinue beyond their lives? None ever encountered death for their\ncountry but under a firm persuasion of immortality! Themistocles might\nhave lived at his ease; so might Epaminondas; and, not to look abroad\nand among the ancients for instances, so might I myself. But, somehow\nor other there clings to our minds a certain presage of future ages;\nand this both exists most firmly, and appears most clearly, in men of\nthe loftiest genius and greatest souls. Take away this, and who would\nbe so mad as to spend his life amidst toils and dangers? I speak of\nthose in power. What are the poet's views but to be ennobled after\ndeath? What else is the object of these lines,\n\n    Behold old Ennius here, who erst\n    Thy fathers' great exploits rehearsed?\n\nHe is challenging the reward of glory from those men whose ancestors he\nhimself had ennobled by his poetry. And in the same spirit he says, in\nanother passage,\n\n    Let none with tears my funeral grace, for I\n    Claim from my works an immortality.\n\nWhy do I mention poets? The very mechanics are desirous of fame after\ndeath. Why did Phidias include a likeness of himself in the shield of\nMinerva, when he was not allowed to inscribe his name on it? What do\nour philosophers think on the subject? Do not they put their names to\nthose very books which they write on the contempt of glory? If, then,\nuniversal consent is the voice of nature, and if it is the general\nopinion everywhere that those who have quitted this life are still\ninterested in something, we also must subscribe to that opinion. And if\nwe think that men of the greatest abilities and virtues see most\nclearly into the power of nature, because they themselves are her most\nperfect work, it is very probable that, as every great man is\nespecially anxious to benefit posterity, there is something of which he\nhimself will be sensible after death.\n\nXVI. But as we are led by nature to think there are Gods, and as we\ndiscover, by reason, of what description they are, so, by the consent\nof all nations, we are induced to believe that our souls survive; but\nwhere their habitation is, and of what character they eventually are,\nmust be learned from reason. The want of any certain reason on which to\nargue has given rise to the idea of the shades below, and to those\nfears which you seem, not without reason, to despise; for as our bodies\nfall to the ground, and are covered with earth (_humus_), from whence\nwe derive the expression to be interred (_humari_), that has occasioned\nmen to imagine that the dead continue, during the remainder of their\nexistence, under ground; which opinion has drawn after it many errors,\nwhich the poets have increased; for the theatre, being frequented by a\nlarge crowd, among which are women and children, is wont to be greatly\naffected on hearing such pompous verses as these,\n\n    Lo! here I am, who scarce could gain this place,\n    Through stony mountains and a dreary waste;\n    Through cliffs, whose sharpen'd stones tremendous hung,\n    Where dreadful darkness spread itself around.\n\nAnd the error prevailed so much, though indeed at present it seems to\nme to be removed, that although men knew that the bodies of the dead\nhad been burned, yet they conceived such things to be done in the\ninfernal regions as could not be executed or imagined without a body;\nfor they could not conceive how disembodied souls could exist; and,\ntherefore, they looked out for some shape or figure. This was the\norigin of all that account of the dead in Homer. This was the idea that\ncaused my friend Appius to frame his Necromancy; and this is how there\ngot about that idea of the lake of Avernus, in my neighborhood,\n\n    From whence the souls of undistinguish'd shape,\n    Clad in thick shade, rush from the open gate\n    Of Acheron, vain phantoms of the dead.\n\nAnd they must needs have these appearances speak, which is not possible\nwithout a tongue, and a palate, and jaws, and without the help of lungs\nand sides, and without some shape or figure; for they could see nothing\nby their mind alone--they referred all to their eyes. To withdraw the\nmind from sensual objects, and abstract our thoughts from what we are\naccustomed to, is an attribute of great genius. I am persuaded, indeed,\nthat there were many such men in former ages; but Pherecydes[8] the\nSyrian is the first on record who said that the souls of men were\nimmortal, and he was a philosopher of great antiquity, in the reign of\nmy namesake Tullius. His disciple Pythagoras greatly confirmed this\nopinion, who came into Italy in the reign of Tarquin the Proud; and all\nthat country which is called Great Greece was occupied by his school,\nand he himself was held in high honor, and had the greatest authority;\nand the Pythagorean sect was for many ages after in such great credit,\nthat all learning was believed to be confined to that name.\n\nXVII. But I return to the ancients. They scarcely ever gave any reason\nfor their opinion but what could be explained by numbers or\ndefinitions. It is reported of Plato that he came into Italy to make\nhimself acquainted with the Pythagoreans; and that when there, among\nothers, he made an acquaintance with Archytas[9] and Timaeus,[10] and\nlearned from them all the tenets of the Pythagoreans; and that he not\nonly was of the same opinion with Pythagoras concerning the immortality\nof the soul, but that he also brought reasons in support of it; which,\nif you have nothing to say against it, I will pass over, and say no\nmore at present about all this hope of immortality.\n\n_A._ What, will you leave me when you have raised my expectations so\nhigh? I had rather, so help me Hercules! be mistaken with Plato, whom I\nknow how much you esteem, and whom I admire myself, from what you say\nof him, than be in the right with those others.\n\n_M._ I commend you; for, indeed, I could myself willingly be mistaken\nin his company. Do we, then, doubt, as we do in other cases (though I\nthink here is very little room for doubt in this case, for the\nmathematicians prove the facts to us), that the earth is placed in the\nmidst of the world, being, as it were, a sort of point, which they call\na [Greek: kentron], surrounded by the whole heavens; and that such is\nthe nature of the four principles which are the generating causes of\nall things, that they have equally divided among them the constituents\nof all bodies; moreover, that earthy and humid bodies are carried at\nequal angles by their own weight and ponderosity into the earth and\nsea; that the other two parts consist, one of fire, and the other of\nair? As the two former are carried by their gravity and weight into the\nmiddle region of the world, so these, on the other hand, ascend by\nright lines into the celestial regions, either because, owing to their\nintrinsic nature, they are always endeavoring to reach the highest\nplace, or else because lighter bodies are naturally repelled by\nheavier; and as this is notoriously the case, it must evidently follow\nthat souls, when once they have departed from the body, whether they\nare animal (by which term I mean capable of breathing) or of the nature\nof fire, must mount upward. But if the soul is some number, as some\npeople assert, speaking with more subtlety than clearness, or if it is\nthat fifth nature, for which it would be more correct to say that we\nhave not given a name to than that we do not correctly understand\nit--still it is too pure and perfect not to go to a great distance from\nthe earth. Something of this sort, then, we must believe the soul to\nbe, that we may not commit the folly of thinking that so active a\nprinciple lies immerged in the heart or brain; or, as Empedocles would\nhave it, in the blood.\n\nXVIII. We will pass over Dicaearchus,[11] with his contemporary and\nfellow-disciple Aristoxenus,[12] both indeed men of learning. One of\nthem seems never even to have been affected with grief, as he could not\nperceive that he had a soul; while the other is so pleased with his\nmusical compositions that he endeavors to show an analogy betwixt them\nand souls. Now, we may understand harmony to arise from the intervals\nof sounds, whose various compositions occasion many harmonies; but I do\nnot see how a disposition of members, and the figure of a body without\na soul, can occasion harmony. He had better, learned as he is, leave\nthese speculations to his master Aristotle, and follow his own trade as\na musician. Good advice is given him in that Greek proverb,\n\n    Apply your talents where you best are skill'd.\n\nI will have nothing at all to do with that fortuitous concourse of\nindividual light and round bodies, notwithstanding Democritus insists\non their being warm and having breath, that is to say, life. But this\nsoul, which is compounded of either of the four principles from which\nwe assert that all things are derived, is of inflamed air, as seems\nparticularly to have been the opinion of Panaetius, and must necessarily\nmount upward; for air and fire have no tendency downward, but always\nascend; so should they be dissipated that must be at some distance from\nthe earth; but should they remain, and preserve their original state,\nit is clearer still that they must be carried heavenward, and this\ngross and concrete air, which is nearest the earth, must be divided and\nbroken by them; for the soul is warmer, or rather hotter, than that\nair, which I just now called gross and concrete: and this may be made\nevident from this consideration--that our bodies, being compounded of\nthe earthy class of principles, grow warm by the heat of the soul.\n\nXIX. We may add, that the soul can the more easily escape from this\nair, which I have often named, and break through it, because nothing is\nswifter than the soul; no swiftness is comparable to the swiftness of\nthe soul, which, should it remain uncorrupt and without alteration,\nmust necessarily be carried on with such velocity as to penetrate and\ndivide all this atmosphere, where clouds, and rain, and winds are\nformed, which, in consequence of the exhalations from the earth, is\nmoist and dark: but, when the soul has once got above this region, and\nfalls in with, and recognizes, a nature like its own, it then rests\nupon fires composed of a combination of thin air and a moderate solar\nheat, and does not aim at any higher flight; for then, after it has\nattained a lightness and heat resembling its own, it moves no more, but\nremains steady, being balanced, as it were, between two equal weights.\nThat, then, is its natural seat where it has penetrated to something\nlike itself, and where, wanting nothing further, it may be supported\nand maintained by the same aliment which nourishes and maintains the\nstars.\n\nNow, as we are usually incited to all sorts of desires by the stimulus\nof the body, and the more so as we endeavor to rival those who are in\npossession of what we long for, we shall certainly be happy when, being\nemancipated from that body, we at the same time get rid of these\ndesires and this rivalry. And that which we do at present, when,\ndismissing all other cares, we curiously examine and look into\nanything, we shall then do with greater freedom; and we shall employ\nourselves entirely in the contemplation and examination of things;\nbecause there is naturally in our minds a certain insatiable desire to\nknow the truth, and the very region itself where we shall arrive, as it\ngives us a more intuitive and easy knowledge of celestial things, will\nraise our desires after knowledge. For it was this beauty of the\nheavens, as seen even here upon earth, which gave birth to that\nnational and hereditary philosophy (as Theophrastus calls it), which\nwas thus excited to a desire of knowledge. But those persons will in a\nmost especial degree enjoy this philosophy, who, while they were only\ninhabitants of this world and enveloped in darkness, were still\ndesirous of looking into these things with the eye of their mind.\n\nXX. For if those men now think that they have attained something who\nhave seen the mouth of the Pontus, and those straits which were passed\nby the ship called Argo, because,\n\n    From Argos she did chosen men convey,\n    Bound to fetch back the Golden Fleece, their prey;\n\nor those who have seen the straits of the ocean,\n\n    Where the swift waves divide the neighboring shores\n    Of Europe, and of Afric;\n\nwhat kind of sight do you imagine that will be when the whole earth is\nlaid open to our view? and that, too, not only in its position, form,\nand boundaries, nor those parts of it only which are habitable, but\nthose also that lie uncultivated, through the extremities of heat and\ncold to which they are exposed; for not even now is it with our eyes\nthat we view what we see, for the body itself has no senses; but (as\nthe naturalists, ay, and even the physicians assure us, who have opened\nour bodies, and examined them) there are certain perforated channels\nfrom the seat of the soul to the eyes, ears, and nose; so that\nfrequently, when either prevented by meditation, or the force of some\nbodily disorder, we neither hear nor see, though our eyes and ears are\nopen and in good condition; so that we may easily apprehend that it is\nthe soul itself which sees and hears, and not those parts which are, as\nit were, but windows to the soul, by means of which, however, she can\nperceive nothing, unless she is on the spot, and exerts herself. How\nshall we account for the fact that by the same power of thinking we\ncomprehend the most different things--as color, taste, heat, smell, and\nsound--which the soul could never know by her five messengers, unless\nevery thing were referred to her, and she were the sole judge of all?\nAnd we shall certainly discover these things in a more clear and\nperfect degree when the soul is disengaged from the body, and has\narrived at that goal to which nature leads her; for at present,\nnotwithstanding nature has contrived, with the greatest skill, those\nchannels which lead from the body to the soul, yet are they, in some\nway or other, stopped up with earthy and concrete bodies; but when we\nshall be nothing but soul, then nothing will interfere to prevent our\nseeing everything in its real substance and in its true character.\n\nXXI. It is true, I might expatiate, did the subject require it, on the\nmany and various objects with which the soul will be entertained in\nthose heavenly regions; when I reflect on which, I am apt to wonder at\nthe boldness of some philosophers, who are so struck with admiration at\nthe knowledge of nature as to thank, in an exulting manner, the first\ninventor and teacher of natural philosophy, and to reverence him as a\nGod; for they declare that they have been delivered by his means from\nthe greatest tyrants, a perpetual terror, and a fear that molested them\nby night and day. What is this dread--this fear? What old woman is\nthere so weak as to fear these things, which you, forsooth, had you not\nbeen acquainted with natural philosophy, would stand in awe of?\n\n    The hallow'd roofs of Acheron, the dread\n    Of Orcus, the pale regions of the dead.\n\nAnd does it become a philosopher to boast that he is not afraid of\nthese things, and that he has discovered them to be false? And from\nthis we may perceive how acute these men were by nature, who, if they\nhad been left without any instruction, would have believed in these\nthings. But now they have certainly made a very fine acquisition in\nlearning that when the day of their death arrives, they will perish\nentirely. And if that really is the case--for I say nothing either\nway--what is there agreeable or glorious in it? Not that I see any\nreason why the opinion of Pythagoras and Plato may not be true; but\neven although Plato were to have assigned no reason for his opinion\n(observe how much I esteem the man), the weight of his authority would\nhave borne me down; but he has brought so many reasons, that he appears\nto me to have endeavored to convince others, and certainly to have\nconvinced himself.\n\nXXII. But there are many who labor on the other side of the question,\nand condemn souls to death, as if they were criminals capitally\nconvicted; nor have they any other reason to allege why the immortality\nof the soul appears to them to be incredible, except that they are not\nable to conceive what sort of thing the soul can be when disentangled\nfrom the body; just as if they could really form a correct idea as to\nwhat sort of thing it is, even when it is in the body; what its form,\nand size, and abode are; so that were they able to have a full view of\nall that is now hidden from them in a living body, they have no idea\nwhether the soul would be discernible by them, or whether it is of so\nfine a texture that it would escape their sight. Let those consider\nthis, who say that they are unable to form any idea of the soul without\nthe body, and then they will see whether they can form any adequate\nidea of what it is when it is in the body. For my own part, when I\nreflect on the nature of the soul, it appears to me a far more\nperplexing and obscure question to determine what is its character\nwhile it is in the body--a place which, as it were, does not belong to\nit--than to imagine what it is when it leaves it, and has arrived at\nthe free aether, which is, if I may so say, its proper, its own\nhabitation. For unless we are to say that we cannot apprehend the\ncharacter or nature of anything which we have never seen, we certainly\nmay be able to form some notion of God, and of the divine soul when\nreleased from the body. Dicaearchus, indeed, and Aristoxenus, because it\nwas hard to understand the existence and substance and nature of the\nsoul, asserted that there was no such thing as a soul at all. It is,\nindeed, the most difficult thing imaginable to discern the soul by the\nsoul. And this, doubtless, is the meaning of the precept of Apollo,\nwhich advises every one to know himself. For I do not apprehend the\nmeaning of the God to have been that we should understand our members,\nour stature, and form; for we are not merely bodies; nor, when I say\nthese things to you, am I addressing myself to your body: when,\ntherefore, he says, \"Know yourself,\" he says this, \"Inform yourself of\nthe nature of your soul;\" for the body is but a kind of vessel, or\nreceptacle of the soul, and whatever your soul does is your own act. To\nknow the soul, then, unless it had been divine, would not have been a\nprecept of such excellent wisdom as to be attributed to a God; but even\nthough the soul should not know of what nature itself is, will you say\nthat it does not even perceive that it exists at all, or that it has\nmotion? On which is founded that reason of Plato's, which is explained\nby Socrates in the Phaedrus, and inserted by me, in my sixth book of the\nRepublic.\n\nXXIII. \"That which is always moved is eternal; but that which gives\nmotion to something else, and is moved itself by some external cause,\nwhen that motion ceases, must necessarily cease to exist. That,\ntherefore, alone, which is self-moved, because it is never forsaken by\nitself, can never cease to be moved. Besides, it is the beginning and\nprinciple of motion to everything else; but whatever is a principle has\nno beginning, for all things arise from that principle, and it cannot\nitself owe its rise to anything else; for then it would not be a\nprinciple did it proceed from anything else. But if it has no\nbeginning, it never will have any end; for a principle which is once\nextinguished cannot itself be restored by anything else, nor can it\nproduce anything else from itself; inasmuch as all things must\nnecessarily arise from some first cause. And thus it comes about that\nthe first principle of motion must arise from that thing which is\nitself moved by itself; and that can neither have a beginning nor an\nend of its existence, for otherwise the whole heaven and earth would be\noverset, and all nature would stand still, and not be able to acquire\nany force by the impulse of which it might be first set in motion.\nSeeing, then, that it is clear that whatever moves itself is eternal,\ncan there be any doubt that the soul is so? For everything is inanimate\nwhich is moved by an external force; but everything which is animate is\nmoved by an interior force, which also belongs to itself. For this is\nthe peculiar nature and power of the soul; and if the soul be the only\nthing in the whole world which has the power of self-motion, then\ncertainly it never had a beginning, and therefore it is eternal.\"\n\nNow, should all the lower order of philosophers (for so I think they\nmay be called who dissent from Plato and Socrates and that school)\nunite their force, they never would be able to explain anything so\nelegantly as this, nor even to understand how ingeniously this\nconclusion is drawn. The soul, then, perceives itself to have motion,\nand at the same time that it gets that perception, it is sensible that\nit derives that motion from its own power, and not from the agency of\nanother; and it is impossible that it should ever forsake itself. And\nthese premises compel you to allow its eternity, unless you have\nsomething to say against them.\n\n_A._ I should myself be very well pleased not to have even a thought\narise in my mind against them, so much am I inclined to that opinion.\n\nXXIV. _M._ Well, then, I appeal to you, if the arguments which prove\nthat there is something divine in the souls of men are not equally\nstrong? But if I could account for the origin of these divine\nproperties, then I might also be able to explain how they might cease\nto exist; for I think I can account for the manner in which the blood,\nand bile, and phlegm, and bones, and nerves, and veins, and all the\nlimbs, and the shape of the whole body, were put together and made; ay,\nand even as to the soul itself, were there nothing more in it than a\nprinciple of life, then the life of a man might be put upon the same\nfooting as that of a vine or any other tree, and accounted for as\ncaused by nature; for these things, as we say, live. Besides, if\ndesires and aversions were all that belonged to the soul, it would have\nthem only in common with the beasts; but it has, in the first place,\nmemory, and that, too, so infinite as to recollect an absolute\ncountless number of circumstances, which Plato will have to be a\nrecollection of a former life; for in that book which is inscribed\nMenon, Socrates asks a child some questions in geometry, with reference\nto measuring a square; his answers are such as a child would make, and\nyet the questions are so easy, that while answering them, one by one,\nhe comes to the same point as if he had learned geometry. From whence\nSocrates would infer that learning is nothing more than recollection;\nand this topic he explains more accurately in the discourse which he\nheld the very day he died; for he there asserts that, any one, who\nseeming to be entirely illiterate, is yet able to answer a question\nwell that is proposed to him, does in so doing manifestly show that he\nis not learning it then, but recollecting it by his memory. Nor is it\nto be accounted for in any other way, how children come to have notions\nof so many and such important things as are implanted, and, as it were,\nsealed up, in their minds (which the Greeks call [Greek: ennoiai]),\nunless the soul, before it entered the body, had been well stored with\nknowledge. And as it had no existence at all (for this is the\ninvariable doctrine of Plato, who will not admit anything to have a\nreal existence which has a beginning and an end, and who thinks that\nthat alone does really exist which is of such a character as what he\ncalls [Greek: eidea], and we species), therefore, being shut up in the\nbody, it could not while in the body discover what it knows; but it\nknew it before, and brought the knowledge with it, so that we are no\nlonger surprised at its extensive and multifarious knowledge. Nor does\nthe soul clearly discover its ideas at its first resort to this abode\nto which it is so unaccustomed, and which is in so disturbed a state;\nbut after having refreshed and recollected itself, it then by its\nmemory recovers them; and, therefore, to learn implies nothing more\nthan to recollect. But I am in a particular manner surprised at memory.\nFor what is that faculty by which we remember? what is its force? what\nits nature? I am not inquiring how great a memory Simonides[13] may be\nsaid to have had, or Theodectes,[14] or that Cineas[15] who was sent to\nRome as ambassador from Pyrrhus; or, in more modern times,\nCharmadas;[16] or, very lately, Metrodorus[17] the Scepsian, or our own\ncontemporary Hortensius[18]: I am speaking of ordinary memory, and\nespecially of those men who are employed in any important study or art,\nthe great capacity of whose minds it is hard to estimate, such numbers\nof things do they remember.\n\nXXV. Should you ask what this leads to, I think we may understand what\nthat power is, and whence we have it. It certainly proceeds neither\nfrom the heart, nor from the blood, nor from the brain, nor from atoms;\nwhether it be air or fire, I know not, nor am I, as those men are,\nashamed, in cases where I am ignorant, to own that I am so. If in any\nother obscure matter I were able to assert anything positively, then I\nwould swear that the soul, be it air or fire, is divine. Just think, I\nbeseech you: can you imagine this wonderful power of memory to be sown\nin or to be a part of the composition of the earth, or of this dark and\ngloomy atmosphere? Though you cannot apprehend what it is, yet you see\nwhat kind of thing it is, or if you do not quite see that, yet you\ncertainly see how great it is. What, then? Shall we imagine that there\nis a kind of measure in the soul, into which, as into a vessel, all\nthat we remember is poured? That indeed is absurd; for how shall we\nform any idea of the bottom, or of the shape or fashion of such a soul\nas that? And, again, how are we to conceive how much it is able to\ncontain? Shall we imagine the soul to receive impressions like wax, and\nmemory to be marks of the impressions made on the soul? What are the\ncharacters of the words, what of the facts themselves? and what, again,\nis that prodigious greatness which can give rise to impressions of so\nmany things? What, lastly, is that power which investigates secret\nthings, and is called invention and contrivance? Does that man seem to\nbe compounded of this earthly, mortal, and perishing nature who first\ninvented names for everything; which, if you will believe Pythagoras,\nis the highest pitch of wisdom? or he who collected the dispersed\ninhabitants of the world, and united them in the bonds of social life?\nor he who confined the sounds of the voice, which used to seem\ninfinite, to the marks of a few letters? or he who first observed the\ncourses of the planets, their progressive motions, their laws? These\nwere all great men. But they were greater still who invented food, and\nraiment, and houses; who introduced civilization among us, and armed us\nagainst the wild beasts; by whom we were made sociable and polished,\nand so proceeded from the necessaries of life to its embellishments.\nFor we have provided great entertainments for the ears by inventing and\nmodulating the variety and nature of sounds; we have learned to survey\nthe stars, not only those that are fixed, but also those which are\nimproperly called wandering; and the man who has acquainted himself\nwith all their revolutions and motions is fairly considered to have a\nsoul resembling the soul of that Being who has created those stars in\nthe heavens: for when Archimedes described in a sphere the motions of\nthe moon, sun, and five planets, he did the very same thing as Plato's\nGod, in his Timaeus, who made the world, causing one revolution to\nadjust motions differing as much as possible in their slowness and\nvelocity. Now, allowing that what we see in the world could not be\neffected without a God, Archimedes could not have imitated the same\nmotions in his sphere without a divine soul.\n\nXXVI. To me, indeed, it appears that even those studies which are more\ncommon and in greater esteem are not without some divine energy: so\nthat I do not consider that a poet can produce a serious and sublime\npoem without some divine impulse working on his mind; nor do I think\nthat eloquence, abounding with sonorous words and fruitful sentences,\ncan flow thus without something beyond mere human power. But as to\nphilosophy, that is the parent of all the arts: what can we call that\nbut, as Plato says, a gift, or, as I express it, an invention, of the\nGods? This it was which first taught us the worship of the Gods; and\nthen led us on to justice, which arises from the human race being\nformed into society; and after that it imbued us with modesty and\nelevation of soul. This it was which dispersed darkness from our souls,\nas it is dispelled from our eyes, enabling us to see all things that\nare above or below, the beginning, end, and middle of everything. I am\nconvinced entirely that that which could effect so many and such great\nthings must be a divine power. For what is memory of words and\ncircumstances? What, too, is invention? Surely they are things than\nwhich nothing greater can be conceived in a God! For I do not imagine\nthe Gods to be delighted with nectar and ambrosia, or with Juventas\npresenting them with a cup; nor do I put any faith in Homer, who says\nthat Ganymede was carried away by the Gods on account of his beauty, in\norder to give Jupiter his wine. Too weak reasons for doing Laomedon\nsuch injury! These were mere inventions of Homer, who gave his Gods the\nimperfections of men. I would rather that he had given men the\nperfections of the Gods! those perfections, I mean, of uninterrupted\nhealth, wisdom, invention, memory. Therefore the soul (which is, as I\nsay, divine) is, as Euripides more boldly expresses it, a God. And\nthus, if the divinity be air or fire, the soul of man is the same; for\nas that celestial nature has nothing earthly or humid about it, in like\nmanner the soul of man is also free from both these qualities: but if\nit is of that fifth kind of nature, first introduced by Aristotle, then\nboth Gods and souls are of the same.\n\nXXVII. As this is my opinion, I have explained it in these very words,\nin my book on Consolation.[19] The origin of the soul of man is not to\nbe found upon earth, for there is nothing in the soul of a mixed or\nconcrete nature, or that has any appearance of being formed or made out\nof the earth; nothing even humid, or airy, or fiery. For what is there\nin natures of that kind which has the power of memory, understanding,\nor thought? which can recollect the past, foresee the future, and\ncomprehend the present? for these capabilities are confined to divine\nbeings; nor can we discover any source from which men could derive\nthem, but from God. There is therefore a peculiar nature and power in\nthe soul, distinct from those natures which are more known and familiar\nto us. Whatever, then, that is which thinks, and which has\nunderstanding, and volition, and a principle of life, is heavenly and\ndivine, and on that account must necessarily be eternal; nor can God\nhimself, who is known to us, be conceived to be anything else except a\nsoul free and unembarrassed, distinct from all mortal concretion,\nacquainted with everything, and giving motion to everything, and itself\nendued with perpetual motion.\n\nXXVIII. Of this kind and nature is the intellect of man. Where, then,\nis this intellect seated, and of what character is it? where is your\nown, and what is its character? Are you able to tell? If I have not\nfaculties for knowing all that I could desire to know, will you not\neven allow me to make use of those which I have? The soul has not\nsufficient capacity to comprehend itself; yet, the soul, like the eye,\nthough it has no distinct view of itself, sees other things: it does\nnot see (which is of least consequence) its own shape; perhaps not,\nthough it possibly may; but we will pass that by: but it certainly sees\nthat it has vigor, sagacity, memory, motion, and velocity; these are\nall great, divine, eternal properties. What its appearance is, or where\nit dwells, it is not necessary even to inquire. As when we behold,\nfirst of all, the beauty and brilliant appearance of the heavens;\nsecondly, the vast velocity of its revolutions, beyond power of our\nimagination to conceive; then the vicissitudes of nights and days, the\nfourfold division of the seasons, so well adapted to the ripening of\nthe fruits of the earth, and the temperature of our bodies: and after\nthat we look up to the sun, the moderator and governor of all these\nthings; and view the moon, by the increase and decrease of its light,\nmarking, as it were, and appointing our holy days; and see the five\nplanets, borne on in the same circle, divided into twelve parts,\npreserving the same course with the greatest regularity, but with\nutterly dissimilar motions among themselves; and the nightly appearance\nof the heaven, adorned on all sides with stars; then, the globe of the\nearth, raised above the sea, and placed in the centre of the universe,\ninhabited and cultivated in its two opposite extremities, one of which,\nthe place of our habitation, is situated towards the north pole, under\nthe seven stars:\n\n    Where the cold northern blasts, with horrid sound,\n    Harden to ice the snowy cover'd ground;\n\nthe other, towards the south pole, is unknown to us, but is called by\nthe Greeks [Greek: antichthona]: the other parts are uncultivated,\nbecause they are either frozen with cold, or burned up with heat; but\nwhere we dwell, it never fails, in its season,\n\n    To yield a placid sky, to bid the trees\n    Assume the lively verdure of their leaves:\n    The vine to bud, and, joyful, in its shoots,\n    Foretell the approaching vintage of its fruits:\n    The ripen'd corn to sing, while all around\n    Full riv'lets glide; and flowers deck the ground:\n\nthen the multitude of cattle, fit part for food, part for tilling the\nground, others for carrying us, or for clothing us; and man himself,\nmade, as it were, on purpose to contemplate the heavens and the Gods,\nand to pay adoration to them: lastly, the whole earth, and wide\nextending seas, given to man's use. When we view these and numberless\nother things, can we doubt that they have some being who presides over\nthem, or has made them (if, indeed, they have been made, as is the\nopinion of Plato, or if, as Aristotle thinks, they are eternal), or who\nat all events is the regulator of so immense a fabric and so great a\nblessing to men? Thus, though you see not the soul of man, as you see\nnot the Deity, yet, as by the contemplation of his works you are led to\nacknowledge a God, so you must own the divine power of the soul, from\nits remembering things, from its invention, from the quickness of its\nmotion, and from all the beauty of virtue. Where, then, is it seated,\nyou will say?\n\nXXIX. In my opinion, it is seated in the head, and I can bring you\nreasons for my adopting that opinion. At present, let the soul reside\nwhere it will, you certainly have one in you. Should you ask what its\nnature is? It has one peculiarly its own; but admitting it to consist\nof fire, or air, it does not affect the present question. Only observe\nthis, that as you are convinced there is a God, though you are ignorant\nwhere he resides, and what shape he is of; in like manner you ought to\nfeel assured that you have a soul, though you cannot satisfy yourself\nof the place of its residence, nor its form. In our knowledge of the\nsoul, unless we are grossly ignorant of natural philosophy, we cannot\nbut be satisfied that it has nothing but what is simple, unmixed,\nuncompounded, and single; and if this is admitted, then it cannot be\nseparated, nor divided, nor dispersed, nor parted, and therefore it\ncannot perish; for to perish implies a parting-asunder, a division, a\ndisunion, of those parts which, while it subsisted, were held together\nby some band. And it was because he was influenced by these and similar\nreasons that Socrates neither looked out for anybody to plead for him\nwhen he was accused, nor begged any favor from his judges, but\nmaintained a manly freedom, which was the effect not of pride, but of\nthe true greatness of his soul; and on the last day of his life he held\na long discourse on this subject; and a few days before, when he might\nhave been easily freed from his confinement, he refused to be so; and\nwhen he had almost actually hold of that deadly cup, he spoke with the\nair of a man not forced to die, but ascending into heaven.\n\nXXX. For so indeed he thought himself, and thus he spoke: \"That there\nwere two ways, and that the souls of men, at their departure from the\nbody, took different roads; for those which were polluted with vices\nthat are common to men, and which had given themselves up entirely to\nunclean desires, and had become so blinded by them as to have\nhabituated themselves to all manner of debauchery and profligacy, or to\nhave laid detestable schemes for the ruin of their country, took a road\nwide of that which led to the assembly of the Gods; but they who had\npreserved themselves upright and chaste, and free from the slightest\ncontagion of the body, and had always kept themselves as far as\npossible at a distance from it, and while on earth had proposed to\nthemselves as a model the life of the Gods, found the return to those\nbeings from whom they had come an easy one.\" Therefore, he argues, that\nall good and wise men should take example from the swans, who are\nconsidered sacred to Apollo, not without reason, but particularly\nbecause they seem to have received the gift of divination from him, by\nwhich, foreseeing how happy it is to die, they leave this world with\nsinging and joy. Nor can any one doubt of this, unless it happens to us\nwho think with care and anxiety about the soul (as is often the case\nwith those who look earnestly at the setting sun), to lose the sight of\nit entirely; and so the mind's eye, viewing itself, sometimes grows\ndull, and for that reason we become remiss in our contemplation. Thus\nour reasoning is borne about, harassed with doubts and anxieties, not\nknowing how to proceed, but measuring back again those dangerous tracts\nwhich it has passed, like a boat tossed about on the boundless ocean.\nBut these reflections are of long standing, and borrowed from the\nGreeks. But Cato left this world in such a manner as if he were\ndelighted that he had found an opportunity of dying; for that God who\npresides in us forbids our departure hence without his leave. But when\nGod himself has given us a just cause, as formerly he did to Socrates,\nand lately to Cato, and often to many others--in such a case, certainly\nevery man of sense would gladly exchange this darkness for that light:\nnot that he would forcibly break from the chains that held him, for\nthat would be against the law; but, like a man released from prison by\na magistrate or some lawful authority, so he too would walk away, being\nreleased and discharged by God. For the whole life of a philosopher is,\nas the same philosopher says, a meditation on death.\n\nXXXI. For what else is it that we do, when we call off our minds from\npleasure, that is to say, from our attention to the body, from the\nmanaging our domestic estate, which is a sort of handmaid and servant\nof the body, or from duties of a public nature, or from all other\nserious business whatever? What else is it, I say, that we do, but\ninvite the soul to reflect on itself? oblige it to converse with\nitself, and, as far as possible, break off its acquaintance with the\nbody? Now, to separate the soul from the body, is to learn to die, and\nnothing else whatever. Wherefore take my advice; and let us meditate on\nthis, and separate ourselves as far as possible from the body, that is\nto say, let us accustom ourselves to die. This will be enjoying a life\nlike that of heaven even while we remain on earth; and when we are\ncarried thither and released from these bonds, our souls will make\ntheir progress with more rapidity; for the spirit which has always been\nfettered by the bonds of the body, even when it is disengaged, advances\nmore slowly, just as those do who have worn actual fetters for many\nyears: but when we have arrived at this emancipation from the bonds of\nthe body, then indeed we shall begin to live, for this present life is\nreally death, which I could say a good deal in lamentation for if I\nchose.\n\n_A._ You have lamented it sufficiently in your book on Consolation; and\nwhen I read that, there is nothing which I desire more than to leave\nthese things; but that desire is increased a great deal by what I have\njust heard.\n\n_M._ The time will come, and that soon, and with equal certainty,\nwhether you hang back or press forward; for time flies. But death is so\nfar from being an evil, as it lately appeared to you, that I am\ninclined to suspect, not that there is no other thing which is an evil\nto man, but rather that there is nothing else which is a real good to\nhim; if, at least, it is true that we become thereby either Gods\nourselves, or companions of the Gods. However, this is not of so much\nconsequence, as there are some of us here who will not allow this. But\nI will not leave off discussing this point till I have convinced you\nthat death can, upon no consideration whatever, be an evil.\n\n_A._ How can it, after what I now know?\n\n_M._ Do you ask how it can? There are crowds of arguers who contradict\nthis; and those not only Epicureans, whom I regard very little, but,\nsomehow or other, almost every man of letters; and, above all, my\nfavorite Dicaearchus is very strenuous in opposing the immortality of\nthe soul: for he has written three books, which are entitled Lesbiacs,\nbecause the discourse was held at Mitylene, in which he seeks to prove\nthat souls are mortal. The Stoics, on the other hand, allow us as long\na time for enjoyment as the life of a raven; they allow the soul to\nexist a great while, but are against its eternity.\n\nXXXII. Are you willing to hear then why, even allowing this, death\ncannot be an evil.\n\n_A._ As you please; but no one shall drive me from my belief in\nmortality.\n\n_M._ I commend you, indeed, for that; though we should not be too\nconfident in our belief of anything; for we are frequently disturbed by\nsome subtle conclusion. We give way and change our opinions even in\nthings that are more evident than this; for in this there certainly is\nsome obscurity. Therefore, should anything of this kind happen, it is\nwell to be on our guard.\n\n_A._ You are right in that; but I will provide against any accident.\n\n_M._ Have you any objection to our dismissing our friends the\nStoics--those, I mean, who allow that the souls exist after they have\nleft the body, but yet deny that they exist forever?\n\n_A._ We certainly may dismiss the consideration of those men who admit\nthat which is the most difficult point in the whole question, namely,\nthat a soul can exist independently of the body, and yet refuse to\ngrant that which is not only very easy to believe, but which is even\nthe natural consequence of the concession which they have made--that if\nthey can exist for a length of time; they most likely do so forever.\n\n_M._ You take it right; that is the very thing. Shall we give,\ntherefore, any credit to Pauaestius, when he dissents from his master,\nPlato? whom he everywhere calls divine, the wisest, the holiest of men,\nthe Homer of philosophers, and whom he opposes in nothing except this\nsingle opinion of the soul's immortality: for he maintains what nobody\ndenies, that everything which has been generated will perish, and that\neven souls are generated, which he thinks appears from their\nresemblance to those of the men who begot them; for that likeness is as\napparent in the turn of their minds as in their bodies. But he brings\nanother reason--that there is nothing which is sensible of pain which\nis not also liable to disease; but whatever is liable to disease must\nbe liable to death. The soul is sensible of pain, therefore it is\nliable to perish.\n\nXXXIII. These arguments may be refuted; for they proceed from his not\nknowing that, while discussing the subject of the immortality of the\nsoul, he is speaking of the intellect, which is free from all turbid\nmotion; but not of those parts of the mind in which those disorders,\nanger and lust, have their seat, and which he whom he is opposing, when\nhe argues thus, imagines to be distinct and separate from the mind. Now\nthis resemblance is more remarkable in beasts, whose souls are void of\nreason. But the likeness in men consists more in the configuration of\nthe bodies: and it is of no little consequence in what bodies the soul\nis lodged; for there are many things which depend on the body that give\nan edge to the soul, many which blunt it. Aristotle, indeed, says that\nall men of great genius are melancholy; so that I should not have been\ndispleased to have been somewhat duller than I am. He instances many,\nand, as if it were matter of fact, brings his reasons for it. But if\nthe power of those things that proceed from the body be so great as to\ninfluence the mind (for they are the things, whatever they are, that\noccasion this likeness), still that does not necessarily prove why a\nsimilitude of souls should be generated. I say nothing about cases of\nunlikeness. I wish Panaetius could be here: he lived with Africanus. I\nwould inquire of him which of his family the nephew of Africanus's\nbrother was like? Possibly he may in person have resembled his father;\nbut in his manners he was so like every profligate, abandoned man, that\nit was impossible to be more so. Whom did the grandson of P. Crassus,\nthat wise and eloquent and most distinguished man, resemble? Or the\nrelations and sons of many other excellent men, whose names there is no\noccasion to mention? But what are we doing? Have we forgotten that our\npurpose was, when we had sufficiently spoken on the subject of the\nimmortality of the soul, to prove that, even if the soul did perish,\nthere would be, even then, no evil in death?\n\n_A._ I remembered it very well; but I had no dislike to your digressing\na little from your original design, while you were talking of the\nsoul's immortality.\n\n_M._ I perceive you have sublime thoughts, and are eager to mount up to\nheaven.\n\nXXXIV. I am not without hopes myself that such may be our fate. But\nadmit what they assert--that the soul does not continue to exist after\ndeath.\n\n_A._ Should it be so, I see that we are then deprived of the hopes of a\nhappier life.\n\n_M._ But what is there of evil in that opinion? For let the soul perish\nas the body: is there any pain, or indeed any feeling at all, in the\nbody after death? No one, indeed asserts that; though Epicurus charges\nDemocritus with saying so; but the disciples of Democritus deny it. No\nsense, therefore, remains in the soul; for the soul is nowhere. Where,\nthen, is the evil? for there is nothing but these two things. Is it\nbecause the mere separation of the soul and body cannot be effected\nwithout pain? But even should that be granted, how small a pain must\nthat be! Yet I think that it is false, and that it is very often\nunaccompanied by any sensation at all, and sometimes even attended with\npleasure; but certainly the whole must be very trifling, whatever it\nis, for it is instantaneous. What makes us uneasy, or rather gives us\npain, is the leaving all the good things of life. But just consider if\nI might not more properly say, leaving the evils of life; only there is\nno reason for my now occupying myself in bewailing the life of man, and\nyet I might, with very good reason. But what occasion is there, when\nwhat I am laboring to prove is that no one is miserable after death, to\nmake life more miserable by lamenting over it? I have done that in the\nbook which I wrote, in order to comfort myself as well as I could. If,\nthen, our inquiry is after truth, death withdraws us from evil, not\nfrom good. This subject is indeed so copiously handled by Hegesias, the\nCyrenaic philosopher, that he is said to have been forbidden by Ptolemy\nfrom delivering his lectures in the schools, because some who heard him\nmade away with themselves. There is, too, an epigram of Callimachus[20]\non Cleombrotus of Ambracia, who, without any misfortune having befallen\nhim, as he says, threw himself from a wall into the sea, after he had\nread a book of Plato's. The book I mentioned of that Hegesias is called\n[Greek: Apokarterteron], or \"A Man who starves himself,\" in which a man\nis represented as killing himself by starvation, till he is prevented\nby his friends, in reply to whom he reckons up all the miseries of\nhuman life. I might do the same, though not so fully as he, who thinks\nit not worth any man's while to live. I pass over others. Was it even\nworth my while to live, for, had I died before I was deprived of the\ncomforts of my own family, and of the honors which I received for my\npublic services, would not death have taken me from the evils of life\nrather than from its blessings?\n\nXXXV. Mention, therefore, some one, who never knew distress; who never\nreceived any blow from fortune. The great Metellus had four\ndistinguished sons; but Priam had fifty, seventeen of whom were born to\nhim by his lawful wife. Fortune had the same power over both, though\nshe exercised it but on one; for Metellus was laid on his funeral pile\nby a great company of sons and daughters, grandsons, and\ngranddaughters; but Priam fell by the hand of an enemy, after having\nfled to the altar, and having seen himself deprived of all his numerous\nprogeny. Had he died before the death of his sons and the ruin of his\nkingdom,\n\n    With all his mighty wealth elate,\n    Under rich canopies of state;\n\nwould he then have been taken from good or from evil? It would indeed,\nat that time, have appeared that he was being taken away from good; yet\nsurely it would have turned out advantageous for him; nor should we\nhave had these mournful verses,\n\n    Lo! these all perish'd in one flaming pile;\n    The foe old Priam did of life beguile,\n    And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defile.\n\nAs if anything better could have happened to him at that time than to\nlose his life in that manner; but yet, if it had befallen him sooner,\nit would have prevented all those consequences; but even as it was, it\nreleased him from any further sense of them. The case of our friend\nPompey[21] was something better: once, when he had been very ill at\nNaples, the Neapolitans, on his recovery, put crowns on their heads, as\ndid those of Puteoli; the people flocked from the country to\ncongratulate him--it is a Grecian custom, and a foolish one; still it\nis a sign of good fortune. But the question is, had he died, would he\nhave been taken from good, or from evil? Certainly from evil. He would\nnot have been engaged in a war with his father-in-law;[22] he would not\nhave taken up arms before he was prepared; he would not have left his\nown house, nor fled from Italy; he would not, after the loss of his\narmy, have fallen unarmed into the hands of slaves, and been put to\ndeath by them; his children would not have been destroyed; nor would\nhis whole fortune have come into the possession of the conquerors. Did\nnot he, then, who, if he had died at that time, would have died in all\nhis glory, owe all the great and terrible misfortunes into which he\nsubsequently fell to the prolongation of his life at that time?\n\nXXXVI. These calamities are avoided by death, for even though they\nshould never happen, there is a possibility that they may; but it never\noccurs to a man that such a disaster may befall him himself. Every one\nhopes to be as happy as Metellus: as if the number of the happy\nexceeded that of the miserable; or as if there were any certainty in\nhuman affairs; or, again, as if there were more rational foundation for\nhope than fear. But should we grant them even this, that men are by\ndeath deprived of good things; would it follow that the dead are\ntherefore in need of the good things of life, and are miserable on that\naccount? Certainly they must necessarily say so. Can he who does not\nexist be in need of anything? To be in need of has a melancholy sound,\nbecause it in effect amounts to this--he had, but he has not; he\nregrets, he looks back upon, he wants. Such are, I suppose, the\ndistresses of one who is in need of. Is he deprived of eyes? to be\nblind is misery. Is he destitute of children? not to have them is\nmisery. These considerations apply to the living, but the dead are\nneither in need of the blessings of life, nor of life itself. But when\nI am speaking of the dead, I am speaking of those who have no\nexistence. But would any one say of us, who do exist, that we want\nhorns or wings? Certainly not. Should it be asked, why not? the answer\nwould be, that not to have what neither custom nor nature has fitted\nyou for would not imply a want of them, even though you were sensible\nthat you had them not. This argument should be pressed over and over\nagain, after that point has once been established, which, if souls are\nmortal, there can be no dispute about--I mean, that the destruction of\nthem by death is so entire as to remove even the least suspicion of any\nsense remaining. When, therefore, this point is once well grounded and\nestablished, we must correctly define what the term to want means; that\nthere may be no mistake in the word. To want, then, signifies this: to\nbe without that which you would be glad to have; for inclination for a\nthing is implied in the word want, excepting when we use the word in an\nentirely different sense, as we do when we say that a fever is wanting\nto any one. For it admits of a different interpretation, when you are\nwithout a certain thing, and are sensible that you are without it, but\nyet can easily dispense with having it. \"To want,\" then, is an\nexpression which you cannot apply to the dead; nor is the mere fact of\nwanting something necessarily lamentable. The proper expression ought\nto be, \"that they want a good,\" and that is an evil.\n\nBut a living man does not want a good, unless he is distressed without\nit; and yet, we can easily understand how any man alive can be without\na kingdom. But this cannot be predicated of you with any accuracy: it\nmight have been asserted of Tarquin, when he was driven from his\nkingdom. But when such an expression is used respecting the dead, it is\nabsolutely unintelligible. For to want implies to be sensible; but the\ndead are insensible: therefore, the dead can be in no want.\n\nXXXVII. But what occasion is there to philosophize here in a matter\nwith which we see that philosophy is but little concerned? How often\nhave not only our generals but whole armies, rushed on certain death!\nBut if it had been a thing to be feared, L. Brutus would never have\nfallen in fight, to prevent the return of that tyrant whom he had\nexpelled; nor would Decius the father have been slain in fighting with\nthe Latins; nor would his son, when engaged with the Etruscans, nor his\ngrandson with Pyrrhus have exposed themselves to the enemy's darts.\nSpain would never have seen, in one campaign, the Scipios fall fighting\nfor their country; nor would the plains of Cannae have witnessed the\ndeath of Paulus and Geminus, or Venusia that of Marcellus; nor would\nthe Latins have beheld the death of Albinus, nor the Leucanians that of\nGracchus. But are any of these miserable now? Nay, they were not so\neven at the first moment after they had breathed their last; nor can\nany one be miserable after he has lost all sensation. Oh, but the mere\ncircumstance of being without sensation is miserable. It might be so if\nbeing without sensation were the same thing as wanting it; but as it is\nevident there can be nothing of any kind in that which has no\nexistence, what can there be afflicting to that which can neither feel\nwant nor be sensible of anything? We might be said to have repeated\nthis over too often, only that here lies all that the soul shudders at\nfrom the fear of death. For whoever can clearly apprehend that which is\nas manifest as the light--that when both soul and body are consumed,\nand there is a total destruction, then that which was an animal becomes\nnothing--will clearly see that there is no difference between a\nHippocentaur, which never had existence, and King Agamemnon, and that\nM. Camillus is no more concerned about this present civil war than I\nwas at the sacking of Rome, when he was living.\n\nXXXVIII. Why, then, should Camillus be affected with the thoughts of\nthese things happening three hundred and fifty years after his time?\nAnd why should I be uneasy it I were to expect that some nation might\npossess itself of this city ten thousand years hence? Because so great\nis our regard for our country, as not to be measured by our own\nfeeling, but by its own actual safety.\n\nDeath, then, which threatens us daily from a thousand accidents, and\nwhich, by reason of the shortness of life, can never be far off, does\nnot deter a wise man from making such provision for his country and his\nfamily as he hopes may last forever; and from regarding posterity, of\nwhich he can never have any real perception, as belonging to himself.\nWherefore a man may act for eternity, even though he be persuaded that\nhis soul is mortal; not, indeed, from a desire of glory, which he will\nbe insensible of, but from a principle of virtue, which glory will\ninevitably attend, though that is not his object. The process, indeed,\nof nature is this: that just in the same manner as our birth was the\nbeginning of things with us, so death will be the end; and as we were\nnoways concerned with anything before we were born, so neither shall we\nbe after we are dead. And in this state of things where can the evil\nbe, since death has no connection with either the living or the dead?\nThe one have no existence at all, the other are not yet affected by it.\nThey who make the least of death consider it as having a great\nresemblance to sleep; as if any one would choose to live ninety years\non condition that, at the expiration of sixty, he should sleep out the\nremainder. The very swine would not accept of life on those terms, much\nless I. Endymion, indeed, if you listen to fables, slept once on a time\non Latmus, a mountain of Caria, and for such a length of time that I\nimagine he is not as yet awake. Do you think that he is concerned at\nthe Moon's being in difficulties, though it was by her that he was\nthrown into that sleep, in order that she might kiss him while\nsleeping. For what should he be concerned for who has not even any\nsensation? You look on sleep as an image of death, and you take that on\nyou daily; and have you, then, any doubt that there is no sensation in\ndeath, when you see there is none in sleep, which is its near\nresemblance?\n\nXXXIX. Away, then, with those follies, which are little better than the\nold women's dreams, such as that it is miserable to die before our\ntime. What time do you mean? That of nature? But she has only lent you\nlife, as she might lend you money, without fixing any certain time for\nits repayment. Have you any grounds of complaint, then, that she\nrecalls it at her pleasure? for you received it on these terms. They\nthat complain thus allow that if a young child dies, the survivors\nought to bear his loss with equanimity; that if an infant in the cradle\ndies, they ought not even to utter a complaint; and yet nature has been\nmore severe with them in demanding back what she gave. They answer by\nsaying that such have not tasted the sweets of life; while the other\nhad begun to conceive hopes of great happiness, and, indeed, had begun\nto realize them. Men judge better in other things, and allow a part to\nbe preferable to none. Why do they not admit the same estimate in life?\nThough Callimachus does not speak amiss in saying that more tears had\nflowed from Priam than his son; yet they are thought happier who die\nafter they have reached old age. It would be hard to say why; for I do\nnot apprehend that any one, if a longer life were granted to him, would\nfind it happier. There is nothing more agreeable to a man than\nprudence, which old age most certainly bestows on a man, though it may\nstrip him of everything else. But what age is long, or what is there at\nall long to a man? Does not\n\n    Old age, though unregarded, still attend\n    On childhood's pastimes, as the cares of men?\n\nBut because there is nothing beyond old age, we call that long: all\nthese things are said to be long or short, according to the proportion\nof time they were given us for. Artistotle saith there is a kind of\ninsect near the river Hypanis, which runs from a certain part of Europe\ninto the Pontus, whose life consists but of one day; those that die at\nthe eighth hour die in full age; those who die when the sun sets are\nvery old, especially when the days are at the longest. Compare our\nlongest life with eternity, and we shall be found almost as short-lived\nas those little animals.\n\nXL. Let us, then, despise all these follies--for what softer name can I\ngive to such levities?--and let us lay the foundation of our happiness\nin the strength and greatness of our minds, in a contempt and disregard\nof all earthly things, and in the practice of every virtue. For at\npresent we are enervated by the softness of our imaginations, so that,\nshould we leave this world before the promises of our fortune-tellers\nare made good to us, we should think ourselves deprived of some great\nadvantages, and seem disappointed and forlorn. But if, through life, we\nare in continual suspense, still expecting, still desiring, and are in\ncontinual pain and torture, good Gods! how pleasant must that journey\nbe which ends in security and ease! How pleased am I with Theramenes!\nOf how exalted a soul does he appear! For, although we never read of\nhim without tears, yet that illustrious man is not to be lamented in\nhis death, who, when he had been imprisoned by the command of the\nthirty tyrants, drank off, at one draught, as if he had been thirsty,\nthe poisoned cup, and threw the remainder out of it with such force\nthat it sounded as it fell; and then, on hearing the sound of the\ndrops, he said, with a smile, \"I drink this to the most excellent\nCritias,\" who had been his most bitter enemy; for it is customary among\nthe Greeks, at their banquets, to name the person to whom they intend\nto deliver the cup. This celebrated man was pleasant to the last, even\nwhen he had received the poison into his bowels, and truly foretold the\ndeath of that man whom he named when he drank the poison, and that\ndeath soon followed. Who that thinks death an evil could approve of the\nevenness of temper in this great man at the instant of dying? Socrates\ncame, a few years after, to the same prison and the same cup by as\ngreat iniquity on the part of his judges as the tyrants displayed when\nthey executed Theramenes. What a speech is that which Plato makes him\ndeliver before his judges, after they had condemned him to death!\n\nXLI. \"I am not without hopes, O judges, that it is a favorable\ncircumstance for me that I am condemned to die; for one of these two\nthings must necessarily happen--either that death will deprive me\nentirely of all sense, or else that, by dying, I shall go from hence\ninto some other place; wherefore, if all sense is utterly extinguished,\nand if death is like that sleep which sometimes is so undisturbed as to\nbe even without the visions of dreams--in that case, O ye good Gods!\nwhat gain is it to die? or what length of days can be imagined which\nwould be preferable to such a night? And if the constant course of\nfuture time is to resemble that night, who is happier than I am? But if\non the other hand, what is said be true, namely, that death is but a\nremoval to those regions where the souls of the departed dwell, then\nthat state must be more happy still to have escaped from those who call\nthemselves judges, and to appear before such as are truly so--Minos,\nRhadamanthus, AEacus, Triptolemus--and to meet with those who have lived\nwith justice and probity![23] Can this change of abode appear otherwise\nthan great to you? What bounds can you set to the value of conversing\nwith Orpheus, and Musaeus, and Homer, and Hesiod? I would even, were it\npossible, willingly die often, in order to prove the certainty of what\nI speak of. What delight must it be to meet with Palamedes, and Ajax,\nand others, who have been betrayed by the iniquity of their judges!\nThen, also, should I experience the wisdom of even that king of kings,\nwho led his vast troops to Troy, and the prudence of Ulysses and\nSisyphus: nor should I then be condemned for prosecuting my inquiries\non such subjects in the same way in which I have done here on earth.\nAnd even you, my judges, you, I mean, who have voted for my acquittal,\ndo not you fear death, for nothing bad can befall a good man, whether\nhe be alive or dead; nor are his concerns ever overlooked by the Gods;\nnor in my case either has this befallen me by chance; and I have\nnothing to charge those men with who accused or condemned me but the\nfact that they believed that they were doing me harm.\" In this manner\nhe proceeded. There is no part of his speech which I admire more than\nhis last words: \"But it is time,\" says he, \"for me now to go hence,\nthat I may die; and for you, that you may continue to live. Which\ncondition of the two is the best, the immortal Gods know; but I do not\nbelieve that any mortal man does.\"\n\nXLII. Surely I would rather have had this man's soul than all the\nfortunes of those who sat in judgment on him; although that very thing\nwhich he says no one except the Gods know, namely, whether life or\ndeath is most preferable, he knows himself, for he had previously\nstated his opinion on it; but he maintained to the last that favorite\nmaxim of his, of affirming nothing. And let us, too, adhere to this\nrule of not thinking anything an evil which is a general provision of\nnature; and let us assure ourselves, that if death is an evil, it is an\neternal evil, for death seems to be the end of a miserable life; but if\ndeath is a misery, there can be no end of that. But why do I mention\nSocrates, or Theramenes, men distinguished by the glory of virtue and\nwisdom? when a certain Lacedaemomian, whose name is not so much as\nknown, held death in such contempt, that, when led to it by the ephori,\nhe bore a cheerful and pleasant countenance; and, when he was asked by\none of his enemies whether he despised the laws of Lycurgus, \"On the\ncontrary,\" answered he, \"I am greatly obliged to him, for he has\namerced me in a fine which I can pay without borrowing, or taking up\nmoney at interest.\" This was a man worthy of Sparta. And I am almost\npersuaded of his innocence because of the greatness of his soul. Our\nown city has produced many such. But why should I name generals, and\nother men of high rank, when Cato could write that legions have marched\nwith alacrity to that place from whence they never expected to return?\nWith no less greatness of soul fell the Lacedaemonians at Thermopylae, on\nwhom Simonides wrote the following epitaph:\n\n    Go, stranger, tell the Spartans, here we lie,\n    Who to support their laws durst boldly die.[24]\n\nWhat was it that Leonidas, their general, said to them? \"March on with\ncourage, my Lacedaemonians. To-night, perhaps, we shall sup in the\nregions below.\" This was a brave nation while the laws of Lycurgus were\nin force. One of them, when a Persian had said to him in conversation,\n\"We shall hide the sun from your sight by the number of our arrows and\ndarts,\" replied, \"We shall fight, then in the shade.\" Do I talk of\ntheir men? How great was that Lacedaemonian woman, who had sent her son\nto battle, and when she heard that he was slain, said, \"I bore him for\nthat purpose, that you might have a man who durst die for his country!\"\nHowever, it is a matter of notoriety that the Spartans were bold and\nhardy, for the discipline of a republic has great influence.\n\nXLIII. What, then, have we not reason to admire Theodorus the Cyrenean,\na philosopher of no small distinction, who, when Lysimachus threatened\nto crucify him, bade him keep those menaces for his courtiers? \"To\nTheodorus it makes no difference whether he rot in the air or\nunderground.\" By which saying of the philosopher I am reminded to say\nsomething of the custom of funerals and sepulture, and of funeral\nceremonies, which is, indeed, not a difficult subject, especially if we\nrecollect what has been before said about insensibility. The opinion of\nSocrates respecting this matter is clearly stated in the book which\ntreats of his death, of which we have already said so much; for when he\nhad discussed the immortality of the soul, and when the time of his\ndying was approaching rapidly, being asked by Criton how he would be\nburied, \"I have taken a great deal of pains,\" saith he, \"my friends, to\nno purpose, for I have not convinced our Criton that I shall fly from\nhence, and leave no part of me behind. Notwithstanding, Criton, if you\ncan overtake me, wheresoever you get hold of me, bury me as you please:\nbut believe me, none of you will be able to catch me when I have flown\naway from hence.\" That was excellently said, inasmuch as he allows his\nfriend to do as he pleased, and yet shows his indifference about\nanything of this kind. Diogenes was rougher, though of the same\nopinion; but in his character of a Cynic he expressed himself in a\nsomewhat harsher manner; he ordered himself to be thrown anywhere\nwithout being buried. And when his friends replied, \"What! to the birds\nand beasts?\" \"By no means,\" saith he; \"place my staff near me, that I\nmay drive them away.\" \"How can you do that,\" they answer, \"for you will\nnot perceive them?\" \"How am I then injured by being torn by those\nanimals, if I have no sensation?\" Anaxagoras, when he was at the point\nof death at Lampsacus, and was asked by his friends, whether, if\nanything should happen to him, he would not choose to be carried to\nClazomenae, his country, made this excellent answer, \"There is,\" says\nhe, \"no occasion for that, for all places are at an equal distance from\nthe infernal regions.\" There is one thing to be observed with respect\nto the whole subject of burial, that it relates to the body, whether\nthe soul live or die. Now, with regard to the body, it is clear that,\nwhether the soul live or die, that has no sensation.\n\nXLIV. But all things are full of errors. Achilles drags Hector, tied to\nhis chariot; he thinks, I suppose, he tears his flesh, and that Hector\nfeels the pain of it; therefore, he avenges himself on him, as he\nimagines. But Hecuba bewails this as a sore misfortune:\n\n    I saw (a dreadful sight) great Hector slain,\n    Dragg'd at Achilles' car along the plain.\n\nWhat Hector? or how long will he be Hector? Accius is better in this,\nand Achilles, too, is sometimes reasonable:\n\n    I Hector's body to his sire convey'd,\n    Hector I sent to the infernal shade.\n\nIt was not Hector that you dragged along, but a body that had been\nHector's. Here another starts from underground, and will not suffer his\nmother to sleep:\n\n    To thee I call, my once-loved parent, hear,\n    Nor longer with thy sleep relieve thy care;\n    Thine eye which pities not is closed--arise;\n    Ling'ring I wait the unpaid obsequies.\n\nWhen these verses are sung with a slow and melancholy tune, so as to\naffect the whole theatre with sadness, one can scarce help thinking\nthose unhappy that are unburied:\n\n    Ere the devouring dogs and hungry vultures...\n\nHe is afraid he shall not have the use of his limbs so well if they are\ntorn to pieces, but is under no such apprehensions if they are burned:\n\n    Nor leave my naked bones, my poor remains,\n    To shameful violence and bloody stains.\n\nI do not understand what he could fear who could pour forth such\nexcellent verses to the sound of the flute. We must, therefore, adhere\nto this, that nothing is to be regarded after we are dead, though many\npeople revenge themselves on their dead enemies. Thyestes pours forth\nseveral curses in some good lines of Ennius, praying, first of all,\nthat Atreus may perish by a shipwreck, which is certainly a very\nterrible thing, for such a death is not free from very grievous\nsensations. Then follow these unmeaning expressions:\n\n                                         May\n    On the sharp rock his mangled carcass lie,\n    His entrails torn, to hungry birds a prey!\n    May he convulsive writhe his bleeding side,\n    And with his clotted gore the stones be dyed!\n\nThe rocks themselves were not more destitute of feeling than he who was\nhanging to them by his side; though Thyestes imagines he is wishing him\nthe greatest torture. It would be torture, indeed, if he were sensible;\nbut as he is not, it can be none; then how very unmeaning is this:\n\n    Let him, still hovering o'er the Stygian wave,\n    Ne'er reach the body's peaceful port, the grave!\n\nYou see under what mistaken notions all this is said. He imagines the\nbody has its haven, and that the dead are at rest in their graves.\nPelops was greatly to blame in not having informed and taught his son\nwhat regard was due to everything.\n\nXLV. But what occasion is there to animadvert on the opinions of\nindividuals, when we may observe whole nations to fall into all sorts\nof errors? The Egyptians embalm their dead, and keep them in their\nhouses; the Persians dress them over with wax, and then bury them, that\nthey may preserve their bodies as long as possible. It is customary\nwith the Magi to bury none of their order, unless they have been first\ntorn by wild beasts. In Hyrcania, the people maintain dogs for the\npublic use; the nobles have their own--and we know that they have a\ngood breed of dogs; but every one, according to his ability, provides\nhimself with some, in order to be torn by them; and they hold that to\nbe the best kind of interment. Chrysippus, who is curious in all kinds\nof historical facts, has collected many other things of this kind; but\nsome of them are so offensive as not to admit of being related. All\nthat has been said of burying is not worth our regard with respect to\nourselves, though it is not to be neglected as to our friends, provided\nwe are thoroughly aware that the dead are insensible. But the living,\nindeed, should consider what is due to custom and opinion; only they\nshould at the same time consider that the dead are noways interested in\nit. But death truly is then met with the greatest tranquillity when the\ndying man can comfort himself with his own praise. No one dies too soon\nwho has finished the course of perfect virtue. I myself have known many\noccasions when I have seemed in danger of immediate death; oh! how I\nwish it had come to me! for I have gained nothing by the delay. I had\ngone over and over again the duties of life; nothing remained but to\ncontend with fortune. If reason, then, cannot sufficiently fortify us\nto enable us to feel a contempt for death, at all events let our past\nlife prove that we have lived long enough, and even longer than was\nnecessary; for notwithstanding the deprivation of sense, the dead are\nnot without that good which peculiarly belongs to them, namely, the\npraise and glory which they have acquired, even though they are not\nsensible of it. For although there be nothing in glory to make it\ndesirable, yet it follows virtue as its shadow; and the genuine\njudgment of the multitude on good men, if ever they form any, is more\nto their own praise than of any real advantage to the dead. Yet I\ncannot say, however it may be received, that Lycurgus and Solon have no\nglory from their laws, and from the political constitution which they\nestablished in their country; or that Themistocles and Epaminondas have\nnot glory from their martial virtue.\n\nXLVI. For Neptune shall sooner bury Salamis itself with his waters than\nthe memory of the trophies gained there; and the Boeotian Leuctra shall\nperish sooner than the glory of that great battle. And longer still\nshall fame be before it deserts Curius, and Fabricius, and Calatinus,\nand the two Scipios, and the two Africani, and Maximus, and Marcellus,\nand Paulus, and Cato, and Laelius, and numberless other heroes; and\nwhoever has caught any resemblance of them, not estimating it by common\nfame, but by the real applause of good men, may with confidence, when\nthe occasion requires, approach death, on which we are sure that even\nif the chief good is not continued, at least no evil is. Such a man\nwould even wish to die while in prosperity; for all the favors that\ncould be heaped on him would not be so agreeable to him as the loss of\nthem would be painful. That speech of the Lacedaemonian seems to have\nthe same meaning, who, when Diagoras the Rhodian, who had himself been\na conqueror at the Olympic games, saw two of his own sons conquerors\nthere on the same day, approached the old man, and, congratulating him,\nsaid, \"You should die now, Diagoras, for no greater happiness can\npossibly await you.\" The Greeks look on these as great things; perhaps\nthey think too highly of them, or, rather, they did so then. And so he\nwho said this to Diagoras, looking on it as something very glorious,\nthat three men out of one family should have been conquerors there,\nthought it could answer no purpose to him to continue any longer in\nlife, where he could only be exposed to a reverse of fortune.\n\nI might have given you a sufficient answer, as it seems to me, on this\npoint, in a few words, as you had allowed the dead were not exposed to\nany positive evil; but I have spoken at greater length on the subject\nfor this reason, because this is our greatest consolation in the losing\nand bewailing of our friends. For we ought to bear with moderation any\ngrief which arises from ourselves, or is endured on our own account,\nlest we should seem to be too much influenced by self-love. But should\nwe suspect our departed friends to be under those evils, which they are\ngenerally imagined to be, and to be sensible of them, then such a\nsuspicion would give us intolerable pain; and accordingly I wished, for\nmy own sake, to pluck up this opinion by the roots, and on that account\nI have been perhaps somewhat more prolix than was necessary.\n\nXLVII. _A._ More prolix than was necessary? Certainty not, in my\nopinion. For I was induced, by the former part of your speech, to wish\nto die; but, by the latter, sometimes not to be unwilling, and at\nothers to be wholly indifferent about it. But the effect of your whole\nargument is, that I am convinced that death ought not to be classed\namong the evils.\n\n_M._ Do you, then, expect that I am to give you a regular peroration,\nlike the rhetoricians, or shall I forego that art?\n\n_A._ I would not have you give over an art which you have set off to\nsuch advantage; and you were in the right to do so, for, to speak the\ntruth, it also has set you off. But what is that peroration? For I\nshould be glad to hear it, whatever it is.\n\n_M._ It is customary, in the schools, to produce the opinions of the\nimmortal Gods on death; nor are these opinions the fruits of the\nimagination alone of the lecturers, but they have the authority of\nHerodotus and many others. Cleobis and Biton are the first they\nmention, sons of the Argive priestess; the story is a well-known one.\nAs it was necessary that she should be drawn in a chariot to a certain\nannual sacrifice, which was solemnized at a temple some considerable\ndistance from the town, and the cattle that were to draw the chariot\nhad not arrived, those two young men whom I have just mentioned,\npulling off their garments, and anointing their bodies with oil,\nharnessed themselves to the yoke. And in this manner the priestess was\nconveyed to the temple; and when the chariot had arrived at the proper\nplace, she is said to have entreated the Goddess to bestow on them, as\na reward for their piety, the greatest gift that a God could confer on\nman. And the young men, after having feasted with their mother, fell\nasleep; and in the morning they were found dead. Trophonius and\nAgamedes are said to have put up the same petition, for they, having\nbuilt a temple to Apollo at Delphi, offered supplications to the God,\nand desired of him some extraordinary reward for their care and labor,\nparticularizing nothing, but asking for whatever was best for men.\nAccordingly, Apollo signified to them that he would bestow it on them\nin three days, and on the third day at daybreak they were found dead.\nAnd so they say that this was a formal decision pronounced by that God\nto whom the rest of the deities have assigned the province of divining\nwith an accuracy superior to that of all the rest.\n\nXLVIII. There is also a story told of Silenus, who, when taken prisoner\nby Midas, is said to have made him this present for his ransom--namely,\nthat he informed him[25] that never to have been born was by far the\ngreatest blessing that could happen to man; and that the next best\nthing was to die very soon; which very opinion Euripides makes use of\nin his Cresphontes, saying,\n\n    When man is born, 'tis fit, with solemn show,\n    We speak our sense of his approaching woe;\n    With other gestures and a different eye,\n    Proclaim our pleasure when he's bid to die.[26]\n\nThere is something like this in Crantor's Consolation; for he says that\nTerinaesus of Elysia, when he was bitterly lamenting the loss of his\nson, came to a place of divination to be informed why he was visited\nwith so great affliction, and received in his tablet these three\nverses:\n\n    Thou fool, to murmur at Euthynous' death!\n    The blooming youth to fate resigns his breath:\n    The fate, whereon your happiness depends,\n    At once the parent and the son befriends.[27]\n\nOn these and similar authorities they affirm that the question has been\ndetermined by the Gods. Nay, more; Alcidamas, an ancient rhetorician of\nthe very highest reputation, wrote even in praise of death, which he\nendeavored to establish by an enumeration of the evils of life; and his\nDissertation has a great deal of eloquence in it; but he was\nunacquainted with the more refined arguments of the philosophers. By\nthe orators, indeed, to die for our country is always considered not\nonly as glorious, but even as happy: they go back as far as\nErechtheus,[28] whose very daughters underwent death, for the safety of\ntheir fellow-citizens: they instance Codrus, who threw himself into the\nmidst of his enemies, dressed like a common man, that his royal robes\nmight not betray him, because the oracle had declared the Athenians\nconquerors, if their king was slain. Menoeceus[29] is not overlooked by\nthem, who, in compliance with the injunctions of an oracle, freely shed\nhis blood for his country. Iphigenia ordered herself to be conveyed to\nAulis, to be sacrificed, that her blood might be the cause of spilling\nthat of her enemies.\n\nXLIX. From hence they proceed to instances of a fresher date. Harmodius\nand Aristogiton are in everybody's mouth; the memory of Leonidas the\nLacedaemonian and Epaminondas the Theban is as fresh as ever. Those\nphilosophers were not acquainted with the many instances in our\ncountry--to give a list of whom would take up too much time--who, we\nsee, considered death desirable as long as it was accompanied with\nhonor. But, notwithstanding this is the correct view of the case, we\nmust use much persuasion, speak as if we were endued with some higher\nauthority, in order to bring men to begin to wish to die, or cease to\nbe afraid of death. For if that last day does not occasion an entire\nextinction, but a change of abode only, what can be more desirable? And\nif it, on the other hand, destroys, and absolutely puts an end to us,\nwhat can be preferable to the having a deep sleep fall on us, in the\nmidst of the fatigues of life, and being thus overtaken, to sleep to\neternity? And, should this really be the case, then Ennius's language\nis more consistent with wisdom than Solon's; for our Ennius says,\n\n    Let none bestow upon my passing bier\n    One needless sigh or unavailing tear.\n\nBut the wise Solon says,\n\n    Let me not unlamented die, but o'er my bier\n    Burst forth the tender sigh, the friendly tear.[30]\n\nBut let us, if indeed it should be our fate to know the time which is\nappointed by the Gods for us to die, prepare ourselves for it with a\ncheerful and grateful mind, thinking ourselves like men who are\ndelivered from a jail, and released from their fetters, for the purpose\nof going back to our eternal habitation, which may be more emphatically\ncalled our own; or else to be divested of all sense and trouble. If, on\nthe other hand, we should have no notice given us of this decree, yet\nlet us cultivate such a disposition as to look on that formidable hour\nof death as happy for us, though shocking to our friends; and let us\nnever imagine anything to be an evil which is an appointment of the\nimmortal Gods, or of nature, the common parent of all. For it is not by\nhazard or without design that we have been born and situated as we\nhave. On the contrary, beyond all doubt there is a certain power which\nconsults the happiness of human nature; and this would neither have\nproduced nor provided for a being which, after having gone through the\nlabors of life, was to fall into eternal misery by death. Let us rather\ninfer that we have a retreat and haven prepared for us, which I wish we\ncould crowd all sail and arrive at; but though the winds should not\nserve, and we should be driven back, yet we shall to a certainty arrive\nat that point eventually, though somewhat later. But how can that be\nmiserable for one which all must of necessity undergo? I have given you\na peroration, that you might not think I had overlooked or neglected\nanything.\n\n_A._ I am persuaded you have not; and, indeed, that peroration has\nconfirmed me.\n\n_M._ I am glad it has had that effect. But it is now time to consult\nour health. To-morrow, and all the time we continue in this Tusculan\nvilla, let us consider this subject; and especially those portions of\nit which may ease our pain, alleviate our fears, and lessen our\ndesires, which is the greatest advantage we can reap from the whole of\nphilosophy.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\nON BEARING PAIN.\n\n\nI. Neoptolemus, in Ennius, indeed, says that the study of philosophy\nwas expedient for him; but that it required limiting to a few subjects,\nfor that to give himself up entirely to it was what he did not approve\nof. And for my part, Brutus, I am perfectly persuaded that it is\nexpedient for me to philosophize; for what can I do better, especially\nas I have no regular occupation? But I am not for limiting my\nphilosophy to a few subjects, as he does; for philosophy is a matter in\nwhich it is difficult to acquire a little knowledge without acquainting\nyourself with many, or all its branches, nor can you well take a few\nsubjects without selecting them out of a great number; nor can any one,\nwho has acquired the knowledge of a few points, avoid endeavoring with\nthe same eagerness to understand more. But still, in a busy life, and\nin one mainly occupied with military matters, such as that of\nNeoptolemus was at that time, even that limited degree of acquaintance\nwith philosophy may be of great use, and may yield fruit, not perhaps\nso plentiful as a thorough knowledge of the whole of philosophy, but\nyet such as in some degree may at times deliver us from the dominion of\nour desires, our sorrows, and our fears; just as the effect of that\ndiscussion which we lately maintained in my Tusculan villa seemed to be\nthat a great contempt of death was engendered, which contempt is of no\nsmall efficacy towards delivering the mind from fear; for whoever\ndreads what cannot be avoided can by no means live with a quiet and\ntranquil mind. But he who is under no fear of death, not only because\nit is a thing absolutely inevitable but also because he is persuaded\nthat death itself hath nothing terrible in it, provides himself with a\nvery great resource towards a happy life. However, I am not tolerant\nthat many will argue strenuously against us; and, indeed, that is a\nthing which can never be avoided, except by abstaining from writing at\nall. For if my Orations, which were addressed to the judgment and\napprobation of the people (for that is a popular art, and the object of\noratory is popular applause), have been criticised by some people who\nare inclined to withhold their praise from everything but what they are\npersuaded they can attain to themselves, and who limit their ideas of\ngood speaking by the hopes which they conceive of what they themselves\nmay attain to, and who declare, when they are overwhelmed with a flow\nof words and sentences, that they prefer the utmost poverty of thought\nand expression to that plenty and copiousness (from which arose the\nAttic kind of oratory, which they who professed it were strangers to,\nthough they have now been some time silenced, and laughed out of the\nvery courts of justice), what may I not expect, when at present I\ncannot have the least countenance from the people by whom I used to be\nupheld before? For philosophy is satisfied with a few judges, and of\nher own accord industriously avoids the multitude, who are jealous of\nit, and utterly displeased with it; so that, should any one undertake\nto cry down the whole of it, he would have the people on his side;\nwhile, if he should attack that school which I particularly profess, he\nwould have great assistance from those of the other philosophers.\n\nII. But I have answered the detractors of philosophy in general, in my\nHortensius. And what I had to say in favor of the Academics, is, I\nthink, explained with sufficient accuracy in my four books of the\nAcademic Question.\n\nBut yet I am so far from desiring that no one should write against me,\nthat it is what I most earnestly wish; for philosophy would never have\nbeen in such esteem in Greece itself, if it had not been for the\nstrength which it acquired from the contentions and disputations of the\nmost learned men; and therefore I recommend all men who have abilities\nto follow my advice to snatch this art also from declining Greece, and\nto transport it to this city; as our ancestors by their study and\nindustry have imported all their other arts which were worth having.\nThus the praise of oratory, raised from a low degree, is arrived at\nsuch perfection that it must now decline, and, as is the nature of all\nthings, verge to its dissolution in a very short time. Let philosophy,\nthen, derive its birth in Latin language from this time, and let us\nlend it our assistance, and bear patiently to be contradicted and\nrefuted; and although those men may dislike such treatment who are\nbound and devoted to certain predetermined opinions, and are under such\nobligations to maintain them that they are forced, for the sake of\nconsistency, to adhere to them even though they do not themselves\nwholly approve of them; we, on the other hand, who pursue only\nprobabilities, and who cannot go beyond that which seems really likely,\ncan confute others without obstinacy, and are prepared to be confuted\nourselves without resentment. Besides, if these studies are ever\nbrought home to us, we shall not want even Greek libraries, in which\nthere is an infinite number of books, by reason of the multitude of\nauthors among them; for it is a common practice with many to repeat the\nsame things which have been written by others, which serves no purpose\nbut to stuff their shelves; and this will be our case, too, if many\napply themselves to this study.\n\nIII. But let us excite those, if possible, who have had a liberal\neducation, and are masters of an elegant style, and who philosophize\nwith reason and method.\n\nFor there is a certain class of them who would willingly be called\nphilosophers, whose books in our language are said to be numerous, and\nwhich I do not despise; for, indeed, I never read them: but still,\nbecause the authors themselves declare that they write without any\nregularity, or method, or elegance, or ornament, I do not care to read\nwhat must be so void of entertainment. There is no one in the least\nacquainted with literature who does not know the style and sentiments\nof that school; wherefore, since they are at no pains to express\nthemselves well, I do not see why they should be read by anybody except\nby one another. Let them read them, if they please, who are of the same\nopinions; for in the same manner as all men read Plato and the other\nSocratics, with those who sprung from them, even those who do not agree\nwith their opinions, or are very indifferent about them; but scarcely\nany one except their own disciples take Epicurus or Metrodorus into\ntheir hands; so they alone read these Latin books who think that the\narguments contained in them are sound. But, in my opinion, whatever is\npublished should be recommended to the reading of every man of\nlearning; and though we may not succeed in this ourselves, yet\nnevertheless we must be sensible that this ought to be the aim of every\nwriter. And on this account I have always been pleased with the custom\nof the Peripatetics and Academics, of disputing on both sides of the\nquestion; not solely from its being the only method of discovering what\nis probable on every subject, but also because it affords the greatest\nscope for practising eloquence; a method that Aristotle first made use\nof, and afterward all the Aristotelians; and in our own memory Plilo,\nwhom we have often heard, appointed one time to treat of the precepts\nof the rhetoricians, and another for philosophical discussion, to which\ncustom I was brought to conform by my friends at my Tusculum; and\naccordingly our leisure time was spent in this manner. And therefore,\nas yesterday before noon we applied ourselves to speaking, and in the\nafternoon went down into the Academy, the discussions which were held\nthere I have acquainted you with, not in the manner of a narration, but\nin almost the very same words which were employed in the debate.\n\nIV. The discourse, then, was introduced in this manner while we were\nwalking, and it was commenced by some such an opening as this:\n\n_A._ It is not to be expressed how much I was delighted, or rather\nedified, by your discourse of yesterday. For although I am conscious to\nmyself that I have never been too fond of life, yet at times, when I\nhave considered that there would be an end to this life, and that I\nmust some time or other part with all its good things, a certain dread\nand uneasiness used to intrude itself on my thoughts; but now, believe\nme, I am so freed from that kind of uneasiness that there is nothing\nthat I think less worth any regard.\n\n_M._ I am not at all surprised at that, for it is the effect of\nphilosophy, which is the medicine of our souls; it banishes all\ngroundless apprehensions, frees us from desires, and drives away fears:\nbut it has not the same influence over all men; it is of very great\ninfluence when it falls in with a disposition well adapted to it. For\nnot only does Fortune, as the old proverb says, assist the bold, but\nreason does so in a still greater degree; for it, by certain precepts,\nas it were, strengthens even courage itself. You were born naturally\ngreat and soaring, and with a contempt for all things which pertain to\nman alone; therefore a discourse against death took easy possession of\na brave soul. But do you imagine that these same arguments have any\nforce with those very persons who have invented, and canvassed, and\npublished them, excepting indeed some very few particular persons? For\nhow few philosophers will you meet with whose life and manners are\nconformable to the dictates of reason! who look on their profession,\nnot as a means of displaying their learning, but as a rule for their\nown practice! who follow their own precepts, and comply with their own\ndecrees! You may see some of such levity and such vanity, that it would\nhave been better for them to have been ignorant; some covetous of\nmoney, some others eager for glory, many slaves to their lusts; so that\ntheir discourses and their actions are most strangely at variance; than\nwhich nothing in my opinion can be more unbecoming: for just as if one\nwho professed to teach grammar should speak with impropriety, or a\nmaster of music sing out of tune, such conduct has the worst appearance\nin these men, because they blunder in the very particular with which\nthey profess that they are well acquainted. So a philosopher who errs\nin the conduct of his life is the more infamous because he is erring in\nthe very thing which he pretends to teach, and, while he lays down\nrules to regulate life by, is irregular in his own life.\n\nV. _A._ Should this be the case, is it not to be feared that you are\ndressing up philosophy in false colors? For what stronger argument can\nthere be that it is of little use than that some very profound\nphilosophers live in a discreditable manner?\n\n_M._ That, indeed, is no argument at all, for as all the fields which\nare cultivated are not fruitful (and this sentiment of Accius is false,\nand asserted without any foundation,\n\n    The ground you sow on is of small avail;\n    To yield a crop good seed can never fail),\n\nit is not every mind which has been properly cultivated that produces\nfruit; and, to go on with the comparison, as a field, although it may\nbe naturally fruitful, cannot produce a crop without dressing, so\nneither can the mind without education; such is the weakness of either\nwithout the other. Whereas philosophy is the culture of the mind: this\nit is which plucks up vices by the roots; prepares the mind for the\nreceiving of seeds; commits them to it, or, as I may say, sows them, in\nthe hope that, when come to maturity, they may produce a plentiful\nharvest. Let us proceed, then, as we began. Say, if you please, what\nshall be the subject of our disputation.\n\n_A._ I look on pain to be the greatest of all evils.\n\n_M._ What, even greater than infamy?\n\n_A._ I dare not indeed assert that; and I blush to think I am so soon\ndriven from my ground.\n\n_M._ You would have had greater reason for blushing had you persevered\nin it; for what is so unbecoming--what can appear worse to you, than\ndisgrace, wickedness, immorality? To avoid which, what pain is there\nwhich we ought not (I will not say to avoid shirking, but even) of our\nown accord to encounter, and undergo, and even to court?\n\n_A._ I am entirely of that opinion; but, notwithstanding that pain is\nnot the greatest evil, yet surely it is an evil.\n\n_M._ Do you perceive, then, how much of the terror of pain you have\ngiven up on a small hint?\n\n_A._ I see that plainly; but I should be glad to give up more of it.\n\n_M._ I will endeavor to make you do so; but it is a great undertaking,\nand I must have a disposition on your part which is not inclined to\noffer any obstacles.\n\n_A._ You shall have such: for as I behaved yesterday, so now I will\nfollow reason wherever she leads.\n\nVI. _M._ First, then, I will speak of the weakness of many\nphilosophers, and those, too, of various sects; the head of whom, both\nin authority and antiquity, was Aristippus, the pupil of Socrates, who\nhesitated not to say that pain was the greatest of all evils. And after\nhim Epicurus easily gave in to this effeminate and enervated doctrine.\nAfter him Hieronymus the Rhodian said, that to be without pain was the\nchief good, so great an evil did pain appear to him to be. The rest,\nwith the exceptions of Zeno, Aristo, Pyrrho, were pretty much of the\nsame opinion that you were of just now--that it was indeed an evil, but\nthat there were many worse. When, then, nature herself, and a certain\ngenerous feeling of virtue, at once prevents you from persisting in the\nassertion that pain is the chief evil, and when you were driven from\nsuch an opinion when disgrace was contrasted with pain, shall\nphilosophy, the preceptress of life, cling to this idea for so many\nages? What duty of life, what praise, what reputation, would be of such\nconsequence that a man should be desirous of gaining it at the expense\nof submitting to bodily pain, when he has persuaded himself that pain\nis the greatest evil? On the other side, what disgrace, what ignominy,\nwould he not submit to that he might avoid pain, when persuaded that it\nwas the greatest of evils? Besides, what person, if it be only true\nthat pain is the greatest of evils, is not miserable, not only when he\nactually feels pain, but also whenever he is aware that it may befall\nhim. And who is there whom pain may not befall? So that it is clear\nthat there is absolutely no one who can possibly be happy. Metrodorus,\nindeed, thinks that man perfectly happy whose body is free from all\ndisorders, and who has an assurance that it will always continue so;\nbut who is there who can be assured of that?\n\nVII. But Epicurus, indeed, says such things that it should seem that\nhis design was only to make people laugh; for he affirms somewhere that\nif a wise man were to be burned or put to the torture--you expect,\nperhaps, that he is going to say he would bear it, he would support\nhimself under it with resolution, he would not yield to it (and that by\nHercules! would be very commendable, and worthy of that very Hercules\nwhom I have just invoked): but even this will not satisfy Epicurus,\nthat robust and hardy man! No; his wise man, even if he were in\nPhalaris's bull, would say, How sweet it is! how little do I regard it!\nWhat, sweet? Is it not sufficient, if it is not disagreeable? But those\nvery men who deny pain to be an evil are not in the habit of saying\nthat it is agreeable to any one to be tormented; they rather say that\nit is cruel, or hard to bear, afflicting, unnatural, but still not an\nevil: while this man who says that it is the only evil, and the very\nworst of all evils, yet thinks that a wise man would pronounce it\nsweet. I do not require of you to speak of pain in the same words which\nEpicurus uses--a man, as you know, devoted to pleasure: he may make no\ndifference, if he pleases, between Phalaris's bull and his own bed; but\nI cannot allow the wise man to be so indifferent about pain. If he\nbears it with courage, it is sufficient: that he should rejoice in it,\nI do not expect; for pain is, beyond all question, sharp, bitter,\nagainst nature, hard to submit to and to bear. Observe Philoctetes: We\nmay allow him to lament, for he saw Hercules himself groaning loudly\nthrough extremity of pain on Mount Oeta. The arrows with which Hercules\npresented him were then no consolation to him, when\n\n    The viper's bite, impregnating his veins\n    With poison, rack'd him with its bitter pains.\n\nAnd therefore he cries out, desiring help, and wishing to die,\n\n    Oh that some friendly hand its aid would lend,\n    My body from this rock's vast height to send\n    Into the briny deep! I'm all on fire,\n    And by this fatal wound must soon expire.\n\nIt is hard to say that the man who was obliged to cry out in this\nmanner was not oppressed with evil, and great evil too.\n\nVIII. But let us observe Hercules himself, who was subdued by pain at\nthe very time when he was on the point of attaining immortality by\ndeath. What words does Sophocles here put in his mouth, in his\nTrachiniae? who, when Deianira had put upon him a tunic dyed in the\ncentaur's blood, and it stuck to his entrails, says,\n\n    What tortures I endure no words can tell,\n    Far greater these, than those which erst befell\n    From the dire terror of thy consort, Jove--\n    E'en stern Eurystheus' dire command above;\n    This of thy daughter, Oeneus, is the fruit,\n    Beguiling me with her envenom'd suit,\n    Whose close embrace doth on my entrails prey,\n    Consuming life; my lungs forbid to play;\n    The blood forsakes my veins; my manly heart\n    Forgets to beat; enervated, each part\n    Neglects its office, while my fatal doom\n    Proceeds ignobly from the weaver's loom.\n    The hand of foe ne'er hurt me, nor the fierce\n    Giant issuing from his parent earth.\n    Ne'er could the Centaur such a blow enforce,\n    No barbarous foe, nor all the Grecian force;\n    This arm no savage people could withstand,\n    Whose realms I traversed to reform the land.\n    Thus, though I ever bore a manly heart,\n    I fall a victim to a woman's art.\nIX. Assist, my son, if thou that name dost hear,\n    My groans preferring to thy mother's tear:\n    Convey her here, if, in thy pious heart,\n    Thy mother shares not an unequal part:\n    Proceed, be bold, thy father's fate bemoan,\n    Nations will join, you will not weep alone.\n    Oh, what a sight is this same briny source,\n    Unknown before, through all my labors' course!\n    That virtue, which could brave each toil but late,\n    With woman's weakness now bewails its fate.\n    Approach, my son; behold thy father laid,\n    A wither'd carcass that implores thy aid;\n    Let all behold: and thou, imperious Jove,\n    On me direct thy lightning from above:\n    Now all its force the poison doth assume,\n    And my burnt entrails with its flame consume.\n    Crestfallen, unembraced, I now let fall\n    Listless, those hands that lately conquer'd all;\n    When the Nemaean lion own'd their force,\n    And he indignant fell a breathless corse;\n    The serpent slew, of the Lernean lake,\n    As did the Hydra of its force partake:\n    By this, too, fell the Erymanthian boar:\n    E'en Cerberus did his weak strength deplore.\n    This sinewy arm did overcome with ease\n    That dragon, guardian of the Golden Fleece.\n    My many conquests let some others trace;\n    It's mine to say, I never knew disgrace.[31]\n\nCan we then, despise pain, when we see Hercules himself giving vent to\nhis expressions of agony with such impatience?\n\nX. Let us see what AEschylus says, who was not only a poet but a\nPythagorean philosopher also, for that is the account which you have\nreceived of him; how doth he make Prometheus bear the pain he suffered\nfor the Lemnian theft, when he clandestinely stole away the celestial\nfire, and bestowed it on men, and was severely punished by Jupiter for\nthe theft. Fastened to Mount Caucasus, he speaks thus:\n\n    Thou heav'n-born race of Titans here fast bound,\n    Behold thy brother! As the sailors sound\n    With care the bottom, and their ships confine\n    To some safe shore, with anchor and with line;\n    So, by Jove's dread decree, the God of fire\n    Confines me here the victim of Jove's ire.\n    With baneful art his dire machine he shapes;\n    From such a God what mortal e'er escapes?\n    When each third day shall triumph o'er the night,\n    Then doth the vulture, with his talons light,\n    Seize on my entrails; which, in rav'nous guise,\n    He preys on! then with wing extended flies\n    Aloft, and brushes with his plumes the gore:\n    But when dire Jove my liver doth restore,\n    Back he returns impetuous to his prey,\n    Clapping his wings, he cuts th' ethereal way.\n    Thus do I nourish with my blood this pest,\n    Confined my arms, unable to contest;\n    Entreating only that in pity Jove\n    Would take my life, and this cursed plague remove.\n    But endless ages past unheard my moan,\n    Sooner shall drops dissolve this very stone.[32]\n\nAnd therefore it scarcely seems possible to avoid calling a man who is\nsuffering, miserable; and if he is miserable, then pain is an evil.\n\nXI. _A._ Hitherto you are on my side; I will see to that by-and-by;\nand, in the mean while, whence are those verses? I do not remember\nthem.\n\n_M._ I will inform you, for you are in the right to ask. Do you see\nthat I have much leisure?\n\n_A._ What, then?\n\n_M._ I imagine, when you were at Athens, you attended frequently at the\nschools of the philosophers.\n\n_A._ Yes, and with great pleasure.\n\n_M._ You observed, then, that though none of them at that time were\nvery eloquent, yet they used to mix verses with their harangues.\n\n_A._ Yes, and particularly Dionysius the Stoic used to employ a great\nmany.\n\n_M._ You say right; but they were quoted without any appropriateness or\nelegance. But our friend Philo used to give a few select lines and well\nadapted; and in imitation of him, ever since I took a fancy to this\nkind of elderly declamation, I have been very fond of quoting our\npoets; and where I cannot be supplied from them, I translate from the\nGreek, that the Latin language may not want any kind of ornament in\nthis kind of disputation.\n\nBut, do you not see how much harm is done by poets? They introduce the\nbravest men lamenting over their misfortunes: they soften our minds;\nand they are, besides, so entertaining, that we do not only read them,\nbut get them by heart. Thus the influence of the poets is added to our\nwant of discipline at home, and our tender and delicate manner of\nliving, so that between them they have deprived virtue of all its vigor\nand energy. Plato, therefore, was right in banishing them from his\ncommonwealth, where he required the best morals, and the best form of\ngovernment. But we, who have all our learning from Greece, read and\nlearn these works of theirs from our childhood; and look on this as a\nliberal and learned education.\n\nXII. But why are we angry with the poets? We may find some\nphilosophers, those masters of virtue, who have taught that pain was\nthe greatest of evils. But you, young man, when you said but just now\nthat it appeared so to you, upon being asked by me what appeared\ngreater than infamy, gave up that opinion at a word. Suppose I ask\nEpicurus the same question. He will answer that a trifling degree of\npain is a greater evil than the greatest infamy; for that there is no\nevil in infamy itself, unless attended with pain. What pain, then,\nattends Epicurus, when he says that very thing, that pain is the\ngreatest evil! And yet nothing can be a greater disgrace to a\nphilosopher than to talk thus. Therefore, you allowed enough when you\nadmitted that infamy appeared to you to be a greater evil than pain.\nAnd if you abide by this admission, you will see how far pain should be\nresisted; and that our inquiry should be not so much whether pain be an\nevil, as how the mind may be fortified for resisting it. The Stoics\ninfer from some petty quibbling arguments that it is no evil, as if the\ndispute were about a word, and not about the thing itself. Why do you\nimpose upon me, Zeno? For when you deny what appears very dreadful to\nme to be an evil, I am deceived, and am at a loss to know why that\nwhich appears to me to be a most miserable thing should be no evil. The\nanswer is, that nothing is an evil but what is base and vicious. You\nreturn to your trifling, for you do not remove what made me uneasy. I\nknow that pain is not vice--you need not inform me of that: but show me\nthat it makes no difference to me whether I am in pain or not. It has\nnever anything to do, say you, with a happy life, for that depends upon\nvirtue alone; but yet pain is to be avoided. If I ask, why? It is\ndisagreeable, against nature, hard to bear, woful and afflicting.\n\nXIII. Here are many words to express that by so many different forms\nwhich we call by the single word evil. You are defining pain, instead\nof removing it, when you say, it is disagreeable, unnatural, scarcely\npossible to be endured or borne, nor are you wrong in saying so: but\nthe man who vaunts himself in such a manner should not give way in his\nconduct, if it be true that nothing is good but what is honest, and\nnothing evil but what is disgraceful. This would be wishing, not\nproving. This argument is a better one, and has more truth in it--that\nall things which Nature abhors are to be looked upon as evil; that\nthose which she approves of are to be considered as good: for when this\nis admitted, and the dispute about words removed, that which they with\nreason embrace, and which we call honest, right, becoming, and\nsometimes include under the general name of virtue, appears so far\nsuperior to everything else that all other things which are looked upon\nas the gifts of fortune, or the good things of the body, seem trifling\nand insignificant; and no evil whatever, nor all the collective body of\nevils together, appears to be compared to the evil of infamy.\nWherefore, if, as you granted in the beginning, infamy is worse than\npain, pain is certainly nothing; for while it appears to you base and\nunmanly to groan, cry out, lament, or faint under pain; while you\ncherish notions of probity, dignity, honor, and, keeping your eye on\nthem, refrain yourself, pain will certainly yield to virtue, and, by\nthe influence of imagination, will lose its whole force.--For you must\neither admit that there is no such thing as virtue, or you must despise\nevery kind of pain. Will you allow of such a virtue as prudence,\nwithout which no virtue whatever can even be conceived? What, then?\nWill that suffer you to labor and take pains to no purpose? Will\ntemperance permit you to do anything to excess? Will it be possible for\njustice to be maintained by one who through the force of pain discovers\nsecrets, or betrays his confederates, or deserts many duties of life?\nWill you act in a manner consistently with courage, and its attendants,\ngreatness of soul, resolution, patience, and contempt for all worldly\nthings? Can you hear yourself called a great man when you lie\ngrovelling, dejected, and deploring your condition with a lamentable\nvoice; no one would call you even a man while in such a condition. You\nmust therefore either abandon all pretensions to courage, or else pain\nmust be put out of the question.\n\nXIV. You know very well that, even though part of your Corinthian\nfurniture were gone, the remainder might be safe without that; but if\nyou lose one virtue (though virtue in reality cannot be lost), still\nif, I say, you should acknowledge that you were deficient in one, you\nwould be stripped of all. Can you, then, call yourself a brave man, of\na great soul, endued with patience and steadiness above the frowns of\nfortune? or Philoctetes? for I choose to instance him, rather than\nyourself, for he certainly was not a brave man, who lay in his bed,\nwhich was watered with his tears,\n\n    Whose groans, bewailings, and whose bitter cries,\n    With grief incessant rent the very skies.\n\nI do not deny pain to be pain--for were that the case, in what would\ncourage consist?--but I say it should be assuaged by patience, if there\nbe such a thing as patience: if there be no such thing, why do we speak\nso in praise of philosophy? or why do we glory in its name? Does pain\nannoy us? Let it sting us to the heart: if you are without defensive\narmor, bare your throat to it; but if you are secured by Vulcanian\narmor, that is to say by resolution, resist it. Should you fail to do\nso, that guardian of your honor, your courage, will forsake and leave\nyou.--By the laws of Lycurgus, and by those which were given to the\nCretans by Jupiter, or which Minos established under the direction of\nJupiter, as the poets say, the youths of the State are trained by the\npractice of hunting, running, enduring hunger and thirst, cold and\nheat. The boys at Sparta are scourged so at the altars that blood\nfollows the lash in abundance; nay, sometimes, as I used to hear when I\nwas there, they are whipped even to death; and yet not one of them was\never heard to cry out, or so much as groan. What, then? Shall men not\nbe able to bear what boys do? and shall custom have such great force,\nand reason none at all?\n\nXV. There is some difference between labor and pain; they border upon\none another, but still there is a certain difference between them.\nLabor is a certain exercise of the mind or body, in some employment or\nundertaking of serious trouble and importance; but pain is a sharp\nmotion in the body, disagreeable to our senses.--Both these feelings,\nthe Greeks, whose language is more copious than ours, express by the\ncommon name of [Greek: Ponos]: therefore they call industrious men\npainstaking, or, rather, fond of labor; we, more conveniently, call\nthem laborious; for laboring is one thing, and enduring pain another.\nYou see, O Greece! your barrenness of words, sometimes, though you\nthink you are always so rich in them. I say, then, that there is a\ndifference between laboring and being in pain. When Caius Marius had an\noperation performed for a swelling in his thigh, he felt pain; when he\nheaded his troops in a very hot season, he labored. Yet these two\nfeelings bear some resemblance to one another; for the accustoming\nourselves to labor makes the endurance of pain more easy to us. And it\nwas because they were influenced by this reason that the founders of\nthe Grecian form of government provided that the bodies of their youth\nshould be strengthened by labor, which custom the Spartans transferred\neven to their women, who in other cities lived more delicately, keeping\nwithin the walls of their houses; but it was otherwise with the\nSpartans.\n\n    The Spartan women, with a manly air,\n    Fatigues and dangers with their husbands share;\n    They in fantastic sports have no delight,\n    Partners with them in exercise and fight.\n\nAnd in these laborious exercises pain interferes sometimes. They are\nthrown down, receive blows, have bad falls, and are bruised, and the\nlabor itself produces a sort of callousness to pain.\n\nXVI. As to military service (I speak of our own, not of that of the\nSpartans, for they used to march slowly to the sound of the flute, and\nscarce a word of command was given without an anapaest), you may see, in\nthe first place, whence the very name of an army (_exercitus_[33]) is\nderived; and, secondly, how great the labor is of an army on its march:\nthen consider that they carry more than a fortnight's provision, and\nwhatever else they may want; that they carry the burden of the\nstakes,[34] for as to shield, sword, or helmet, they look on them as no\nmore encumbrance than their own limbs, for they say that arms are the\nlimbs of a soldier, and those, indeed, they carry so commodiously that,\nwhen there is occasion, they throw down their burdens, and use their\narms as readily as their limbs. Why need I mention the exercises of the\nlegions? And how great the labor is which is undergone in the running,\nencounters, shouts! Hence it is that their minds are worked up to make\nso light of wounds in action. Take a soldier of equal bravery, but\nundisciplined, and he will seem a woman. Why is it that there is this\nsensible difference between a raw recruit and a veteran soldier? The\nage of the young soldiers is for the most part in their favor; but it\nis practice only that enables men to bear labor and despise wounds.\nMoreover, we often see, when the wounded are carried off the field, the\nraw, untried soldier, though but slightly wounded, cries out most\nshamefully; but the more brave, experienced veteran only inquires for\nsome one to dress his wounds, and says,\n\n    Patroclus, to thy aid I must appeal\n    Ere worse ensue, my bleeding wounds to heal;\n    The sons of AEsculapius are employ'd,\n    No room for me, so many are annoy'd.\n\nXVII. This is certainly Eurypylus himself. What an experienced\nman!--While his friend is continually enlarging on his misfortunes, you\nmay observe that he is so far from weeping that he even assigns a\nreason why he should bear his wounds with patience.\n\n    Who at his enemy a stroke directs,\n    His sword to light upon himself expects.\n\nPatroclus, I suppose, will lead him off to his chamber to bind up his\nwounds, at least if he be a man: but not a word of that; he only\ninquires how the battle went:\n\n    Say how the Argives bear themselves in fight?\n\nAnd yet no words can show the truth as well as those, your deeds and\nvisible sufferings.\n\n    Peace! and my wounds bind up;\n\nbut though Eurypylus could bear these afflictions, AEsopus could not,\n\n    Where Hector's fortune press'd our yielding troops;\n\nand he explains the rest, though in pain. So unbounded is military\nglory in a brave man! Shall, then, a veteran soldier be able to behave\nin this manner, and shall a wise and learned man not be able? Surely\nthe latter might be able to bear pain better, and in no small degree\neither. At present, however, I am confining myself to what is\nengendered by practice and discipline. I am not yet come to speak of\nreason and philosophy. You may often hear of old women living without\nvictuals for three or four days; but take away a wrestler's provisions\nbut for one day, and he will implore the aid of Jupiter Olympius, the\nvery God for whom he exercises himself: he will cry out that he cannot\nendure it. Great is the force of custom! Sportsmen will continue whole\nnights in the snow; they will bear being almost frozen upon the\nmountains. From practice boxers will not so much as utter a groan,\nhowever bruised by the cestus. But what do you think of those to whom a\nvictory in the Olympic games seemed almost on a par with the ancient\nconsulships of the Roman people? What wounds will the gladiators bear,\nwho are either barbarians, or the very dregs of mankind! How do they,\nwho are trained to it, prefer being wounded to basely avoiding it! How\noften do they prove that they consider nothing but the giving\nsatisfaction to their masters or to the people! for when covered with\nwounds, they send to their masters to learn their pleasure: if it is\ntheir will, they are ready to lie down and die. What gladiator, of even\nmoderate reputation, ever gave a sigh? who ever turned pale? who ever\ndisgraced himself either in the actual combat, or even when about to\ndie? who that had been defeated ever drew in his neck to avoid the\nstroke of death? So great is the force of practice, deliberation, and\ncustom! Shall this, then, be done by\n\n    A Samnite rascal, worthy of his trade;\n\nand shall a man born to glory have so soft a part in his soul as not to\nbe able to fortify it by reason and reflection? The sight of the\ngladiators' combats is by some looked on as cruel and inhuman, and I do\nnot know, as it is at present managed, but it may be so; but when the\nguilty fought, we might receive by our ears perhaps (but certainly by\nour eyes we could not) better training to harden us against pain and\ndeath.\n\nXVIII. I have now said enough about the effects of exercise, custom,\nand careful meditation. Proceed we now to consider the force of reason,\nunless you have something to reply to what has been said.\n\n_A._ That I should interrupt you! By no means; for your discourse has\nbrought me over to your opinion. Let the Stoics, then, think it their\nbusiness to determine whether pain be an evil or not, while they\nendeavor to show by some strained and trifling conclusions, which are\nnothing to the purpose, that pain is no evil. My opinion is, that\nwhatever it is, it is not so great as it appears; and I say, that men\nare influenced to a great extent by some false representations and\nappearance of it, and that all which is really felt is capable of being\nendured. Where shall I begin, then? Shall I superficially go over what\nI said before, that my discourse may have a greater scope?\n\nThis, then, is agreed upon by all, and not only by learned men, but\nalso by the unlearned, that it becomes the brave and magnanimous--those\nthat have patience and a spirit above this world--not to give way to\npain. Nor has there ever been any one who did not commend a man who\nbore it in this manner. That, then, which is expected from a brave man,\nand is commended when it is seen, it must surely be base in any one to\nbe afraid of at its approach, or not to bear when it comes. But I would\nhave you consider whether, as all the right affections of the soul are\nclassed under the name of virtues, the truth is that this is not\nproperly the name of them all, but that they all have their name from\nthat leading virtue which is superior to all the rest: for the name\n\"virtue\" comes from _vir_, a man, and courage is the peculiar\ndistinction of a man: and this virtue has two principal duties, to\ndespise death and pain. We must, then, exert these, if we would be men\nof virtue, or, rather, if we would be men, because virtue (_virtus_)\ntakes its very name from _vir_, man.\n\nXIX. You may inquire, perhaps, how? And such an inquiry is not amiss,\nfor philosophy is ready with her assistance. Epicurus offers himself to\nyou, a man far from a bad--or, I should rather say, a very good man: he\nadvises no more than he knows. \"Despise pain,\" says he. Who is it saith\nthis? Is it the same man who calls pain the greatest of all evils? It\nis not, indeed, very consistent in him. Let us hear what he says: \"If\nthe pain is excessive, it must needs be short.\" I must have that over\nagain, for I do not apprehend what you mean exactly by \"excessive\" or\n\"short.\" That is excessive than which nothing can be greater; that is\nshort than which nothing is shorter. I do not regard the greatness of\nany pain from which, by reason of the shortness of its continuance, I\nshall be delivered almost before it reaches me. But if the pain be as\ngreat as that of Philoctetes, it will appear great indeed to me, but\nyet not the greatest that I am capable of bearing; for the pain is\nconfined to my foot. But my eye may pain me, I may have a pain in the\nhead, or sides, or lungs, or in every part of me. It is far, then, from\nbeing excessive. Therefore, says he, pain of a long continuance has\nmore pleasure in it than uneasiness. Now, I cannot bring myself to say\nso great a man talks nonsense; but I imagine he is laughing at us. My\nopinion is that the greatest pain (I say the greatest, though it may be\nten atoms less than another) is not therefore short, because acute. I\ncould name to you a great many good men who have been tormented many\nyears with the acutest pains of the gout. But this cautious man doth\nnot determine the measure of that greatness or of duration, so as to\nenable us to know what he calls excessive with regard to pain, or short\nwith respect to its continuance. Let us pass him by, then, as one who\nsays just nothing at all; and let us force him to acknowledge,\nnotwithstanding he might behave himself somewhat boldly under his colic\nand his strangury, that no remedy against pain can be had from him who\nlooks on pain as the greatest of all evils. We must apply, then, for\nrelief elsewhere, and nowhere better (if we seek for what is most\nconsistent with itself) than to those who place the chief good in\nhonesty, and the greatest evil in infamy. You dare not so much as\ngroan, or discover the least uneasiness in their company, for virtue\nitself speaks to you through them.\n\nXX. Will you, when you may observe children at Lacedaemon, and young men\nat Olympia, and barbarians in the amphitheatre, receive the severest\nwounds, and bear them without once opening their mouths--will you, I\nsay, if any pain should by chance attack you, cry out like a woman?\nWill you not rather bear it with resolution and constancy? and not cry,\nIt is intolerable; nature cannot bear it! I hear what you say: Boys\nbear this because they are led thereto by glory; some bear it through\nshame, many through fear, and yet are we afraid that nature cannot bear\nwhat is borne by many, and in such different circumstances? Nature not\nonly bears it, but challenges it, for there is nothing with her\npreferable, nothing which she desires more than credit, and reputation,\nand praise, and honor, and glory. I choose here to describe this one\nthing under many names, and I have used many that you may have the\nclearer idea of it; for what I mean to say is, that whatever is\ndesirable of itself, proceeding from virtue, or placed in virtue, and\ncommendable on its own account (which I would rather agree to call the\nonly good than deny it to be the chief good) is what men should prefer\nabove all things. And as we declare this to be the case with respect to\nhonesty, so we speak in the contrary manner of infamy; nothing is so\nodious, so detestable, nothing so unworthy of a man. And if you are\nthoroughly convinced of this (for, at the beginning of this discourse,\nyou allowed that there appeared to you more evil in infamy than in\npain), it follows that you ought to have the command over yourself,\nthough I scarcely know how this expression may seem an accurate one,\nwhich appears to represent man as made up of two natures, so that one\nshould be in command and the other be subject to it.\n\nXXI. Yet this division does not proceed from ignorance; for the soul\nadmits of a twofold division, one of which partakes of reason, the\nother is without it. When, therefore, we are ordered to give a law to\nourselves, the meaning is, that reason should restrain our rashness.\nThere is in the soul of every man something naturally soft, low,\nenervated in a manner, and languid. Were there nothing besides this,\nmen would be the greatest of monsters; but there is present to every\nman reason, which presides over and gives laws to all; which, by\nimproving itself, and making continual advances, becomes perfect\nvirtue. It behooves a man, then, to take care that reason shall have\nthe command over that part which is bound to practise obedience. In\nwhat manner? you will say. Why, as a master has over his slave, a\ngeneral over his army, a father over his son. If that part of the soul\nwhich I have called soft behaves disgracefully, if it gives itself up\nto lamentations and womanish tears, then let it be restrained, and\ncommitted to the care of friends and relations, for we often see those\npersons brought to order by shame whom no reasons can influence.\nTherefore, we should confine those feelings, like our servants, in safe\ncustody, and almost with chains. But those who have more resolution,\nand yet are not utterly immovable, we should encourage with our\nexhortations, as we would good soldiers, to recollect themselves, and\nmaintain their honor. That wisest man of all Greece, in the Niptrae,\ndoes not lament too much over his wounds, or, rather, he is moderate in\nhis grief:\n\n    Move slow, my friends; your hasty speed refrain,\n    Lest by your motion you increase my pain.\n\nPacuvius is better in this than Sophocles, for in the one Ulysses\nbemoans his wounds too vehemently; for the very people who carried him\nafter he was wounded, though his grief was moderate, yet, considering\nthe dignity of the man, did not scruple to say,\n\n    And thou, Ulysses, long to war inured,\n    Thy wounds, though great, too feebly hast endured.\n\nThe wise poet understood that custom was no contemptible instructor how\nto bear pain. But the same hero complains with more decency, though in\ngreat pain:\n\n    Assist, support me, never leave me so;\n    Unbind my wounds, oh! execrable woe!\n\nHe begins to give way, but instantly checks himself:\n\n    Away! begone! but cover first the sore;\n    For your rude hands but make my pains the more.\n\nDo you observe how he constrains himself? not that his bodily pains\nwere less, but because he checks the anguish of his mind. Therefore, in\nthe conclusion of the Niptrae, he blames others, even when he himself is\ndying:\n\n    Complaints of fortune may become the man,\n    None but a woman will thus weeping stand.\n\nAnd so that soft place in his soul obeys his reason, just as an abashed\nsoldier does his stern commander.\n\nXXII. The man, then, in whom absolute wisdom exists (such a man,\nindeed, we have never as yet seen, but the philosophers have described\nin their writings what sort of man he will be, if he should exist);\nsuch a man, or at least that perfect and absolute reason which exists\nin him, will have the same authority over the inferior part as a good\nparent has over his dutiful children: he will bring it to obey his nod\nwithout any trouble or difficulty. He will rouse himself, prepare and\narm himself, to oppose pain as he would an enemy. If you inquire what\narms he will provide himself with, they will be contention,\nencouragement, discourse with himself. He will say thus to himself:\nTake care that you are guilty of nothing base, languid, or unmanly. He\nwill turn over in his mind all the different kinds of honor. Zeno of\nElea will occur to him, who suffered everything rather than betray his\nconfederates in the design of putting an end to the tyranny. He will\nreflect on Anaxarchus, the pupil of Democritus, who, having fallen into\nthe hands of Nicocreon, King of Cyprus, without the least entreaty for\nmercy or refusal, submitted to every kind of torture. Calanus the\nIndian will occur to him, an ignorant man and a barbarian, born at the\nfoot of Mount Caucasus, who committed himself to the flames by his own\nfree, voluntary act. But we, if we have the toothache, or a pain in the\nfoot, or if the body be anyways affected, cannot bear it. For our\nsentiments of pain as well as pleasure are so trifling and effeminate,\nwe are so enervated and relaxed by luxuries, that we cannot bear the\nsting of a bee without crying out. But Caius Marius, a plain\ncountryman, but of a manly soul, when he had an operation performed on\nhim, as I mentioned above, at first refused to be tied down; and he is\nthe first instance of any one's having had an operation performed on\nhim without being tied down. Why, then, did others bear it afterward?\nWhy, from the force of example. You see, then, that pain exists more in\nopinion than in nature; and yet the same Marius gave a proof that there\nis something very sharp in pain for he would not submit to have the\nother thigh cut. So that he bore his pain with resolution as a man;\nbut, like a reasonable person, he was not willing to undergo any\ngreater pain without some necessary reason. The whole, then, consists\nin this--that you should have command over yourself. I have already\ntold you what kind of command this is; and by considering what is most\nconsistent with patience, fortitude, and greatness of soul, a man not\nonly restrains himself, but, somehow or other, mitigates even pain\nitself.\n\nXXIII. Even as in a battle the dastardly and timorous soldier throws\naway his shield on the first appearance of an enemy, and runs as fast\nas he can, and on that account loses his life sometimes, though he has\nnever received even one wound, when he who stands his ground has\nnothing of the sort happen to him, so they who cannot bear the\nappearance of pain throw themselves away, and give themselves up to\naffliction and dismay. But they that oppose it, often come off more\nthan a match for it. For the body has a certain resemblance to the\nsoul: as burdens are more easily borne the more the body is exerted,\nwhile they crush us if we give way, so the soul by exerting itself\nresists the whole weight that would oppress it; but if it yields, it is\nso pressed that it cannot support itself. And if we consider things\ntruly, the soul should exert itself in every pursuit, for that is the\nonly security for its doing its duty. But this should be principally\nregarded in pain, that we must not do anything timidly, or dastardly,\nor basely, or slavishly, or effeminately, and, above all things, we\nmust dismiss and avoid that Philoctetean sort of outcry. A man is\nallowed sometimes to groan, but yet seldom; but it is not permissible\neven in a woman to howl; for such a noise as this is forbidden, by the\ntwelve tables, to be used even at funerals. Nor does a wise or brave\nman ever groan, unless when he exerts himself to give his resolution\ngreater force, as they who run in the stadium make as much noise as\nthey can. The wrestlers, too, do the same when they are training; and\nthe boxers, when they aim a blow with the cestus at their adversary,\ngive a groan, not because they are in pain, or from a sinking of their\nspirits, but because their whole body is put upon the stretch by the\nthrowing-out of these groans, and the blow comes the stronger.\n\nXXIV. What! they who would speak louder than ordinary are they\nsatisfied with working their jaws, sides, or tongue or stretching the\ncommon organs of speech and utterance? The whole body and every muscle\nis at full stretch if I may be allowed the expression; every nerve is\nexerted to assist their voice. I have actually seen the knees of Marcus\nAntonius touch the ground when he was speaking with vehemence for\nhimself, with relation to the Varian law. For, as the engines you throw\nstones or darts with throw them out with the greater force the more\nthey are strained and drawn back; so it is in speaking, running, or\nboxing--the more people strain themselves, the greater their force.\nSince, therefore, this exertion has so much influence--if in a moment\nof pain groans help to strengthen the mind, let us use them; but if\nthey be groans of lamentation, if they be the expression of weakness or\nabjectness, or unmanly weeping, then I should scarcely call him a man\nwho yielded to them. For even supposing that such groaning could give\nany ease, it still should be considered whether it were consistent with\na brave and resolute man. But if it does not ease our pain, why should\nwe debase ourselves to no purpose? For what is more unbecoming in a man\nthan to cry like a woman? But this precept which is laid down with\nrespect to pain is not confined to it. We should apply this exertion of\nthe soul to everything else. Is anger inflamed? is lust excited? we\nmust have recourse to the same citadel, and apply to the same arms. But\nsince it is pain which we are at present discussing, we will let the\nother subjects alone. To bear pain, then, sedately and calmly, it is of\ngreat use to consider with all our soul, as the saying is, how noble it\nis to do so, for we are naturally desirous (as I said before, but it\ncannot be too often repeated) and very much inclined to what is\nhonorable, of which, if we discover but the least glimpse, there is\nnothing which we are not prepared to undergo and suffer to attain it.\nFrom this impulse of our minds, this desire for genuine glory and\nhonorable conduct, it is that such dangers are supported in war, and\nthat brave men are not sensible of their wounds in action, or, if they\nare sensible of them, prefer death to the departing but the least step\nfrom their honor. The Decii saw the shining swords of their enemies\nwhen they were rushing into the battle. But the honorable character and\nthe glory of the death which they were seeking made all fear of death\nof little weight. Do you imagine that Epaminondas groaned when he\nperceived that his life was flowing out with his blood? No; for he left\nhis country triumphing over the Lacedaemonians, whereas he had found it\nin subjection to them. These are the comforts, these are the things\nthat assuage the greatest pain.\n\nXXV. You may ask, How the case is in peace? What is to be done at home?\nHow we are to behave in bed? You bring me back to the philosophers, who\nseldom go to war. Among these, Dionysius of Heraclea, a man certainly\nof no resolution, having learned fortitude of Zeno, quitted it on being\nin pain; for, being tormented with a pain in his kidneys, in bewailing\nhimself he cried out that those things were false which he had formerly\nconceived of pain. And when his fellow-disciple, Cleanthes, asked him\nwhy he had changed his opinion, he answered, \"That the case of any man\nwho had applied so much time to philosophy, and yet was unable to bear\npain, might be a sufficient proof that pain is an evil; that he himself\nhad spent many years at philosophy, and yet could not bear pain: it\nfollowed, therefore, that pain was an evil.\" It is reported that\nCleanthes on that struck his foot on the ground, and repeated a verse\nout of the Epigonae:\n\n    Amphiaraus, hear'st thou this below?\n\nHe meant Zeno: he was sorry the other had degenerated from him.\n\nBut it was not so with our friend Posidonius, whom I have often seen\nmyself; and I will tell you what Pompey used to say of him: that when\nhe came to Rhodes, after his departure from Syria, he had a great\ndesire to hear Posidonius, but was informed that he was very ill of a\nsevere fit of the gout; yet he had great inclination to pay a visit to\nso famous a philosopher. Accordingly, when he had seen him, and paid\nhis compliments, and had spoken with great respect of him, he said he\nwas very sorry that he could not hear him lecture. \"But indeed you\nmay,\" replied the other, \"nor will I suffer any bodily pain to occasion\nso great a man to visit me in vain.\" On this Pompey relates that, as he\nlay on his bed, he disputed with great dignity and fluency on this very\nsubject: that nothing was good but what was honest; and that in his\nparoxysms he would often say, \"Pain, it is to no purpose;\nnotwithstanding you are troublesome, I will never acknowledge you an\nevil.\" And in general all celebrated and notorious afflictions become\nendurable by disregarding them.\n\nXXVI. Do we not observe that where those exercises called gymnastic are\nin esteem, those who enter the lists never concern themselves about\ndangers? that where the praise of riding and hunting is highly\nesteemed, they who practice these arts decline no pain? What shall I\nsay of our own ambitious pursuits or desire of honors? What fire have\nnot candidates run through to gain a single vote? Therefore Africanus\nhad always in his hands Xenophon, the pupil of Socrates, being\nparticularly pleased with his saying, that the same labors were not\nequally heavy to the general and to the common man, because the honor\nitself made the labor lighter to the general. But yet, so it happens,\nthat even with the illiterate vulgar an idea of honor is of great\ninfluence, though they cannot understand what it is. They are led by\nreport and common opinion to look on that as honorable which has the\ngeneral voice. Not that I would have you, should the multitude be ever\nso fond of you, rely on their judgment, nor approve of everything which\nthey think right: you must use your own judgment. If you are satisfied\nwith yourself when you have approved of what is right, you will not\nonly have the mastery over yourself (which I recommended to you just\nnow), but over everybody, and everything. Lay this down, then, as a\nrule, that a great capacity, and lofty elevation of soul, which\ndistinguishes itself most by despising and looking down with contempt\non pain, is the most excellent of all things, and the more so if it\ndoes not depend on the people and does not aim at applause, but derives\nits satisfaction from itself. Besides, to me, indeed, everything seems\nthe more commendable the less the people are courted, and the fewer\neyes there are to see it. Not that you should avoid the public, for\nevery generous action loves the public view; yet no theatre for virtue\nis equal to a consciousness of it.\n\nXXVII. And let this be principally considered: that this bearing of\npain, which I have often said is to be strengthened by an exertion of\nthe soul, should be the same in everything. For you meet with many who,\nthrough a desire of victory, or for glory, or to maintain their rights,\nor their liberty, have boldly received wounds, and borne themselves up\nunder them; and yet those very same persons, by relaxing that\nintenseness of their minds, were unequal to bearing the pain of a\ndisease; for they did not support themselves under their former\nsufferings by reason or philosophy, but by inclination and glory.\nTherefore some barbarians and savage people are able to fight very\nstoutly with the sword, but cannot bear sickness like men; but the\nGrecians, men of no great courage, but as wise as human nature will\nadmit of, cannot look an enemy in the face, yet the same will bear to\nbe visited with sickness tolerably, and with a sufficiently manly\nspirit; and the Cimbrians and Celtiberians are very alert in battle,\nbut bemoan themselves in sickness. For nothing can be consistent which\nhas not reason for its foundation. But when you see those who are led\nby inclination or opinion, not retarded by pain in their pursuits, nor\nhindered by it from succeeding in them, you may conclude, either that\npain is no evil, or that, notwithstanding you may choose to call an\nevil whatever is disagreeable and contrary to nature, yet it is so very\ntrifling an evil that it may so effectually be got the better of by\nvirtue as quite to disappear. And I would have you think of this night\nand day; for this argument will spread itself, and take up more room\nsome time or other, and not be confined to pain alone; for if the\nmotives to all our actions are to avoid disgrace and acquire honor, we\nmay not only despise the stings of pain, but the storms of fortune,\nespecially if we have recourse to that retreat which was pointed out in\nour yesterday's discussion; for, as if some God had advised a man who\nwas pursued by pirates to throw himself overboard, saying, \"There is\nsomething at hand to receive you; either a dolphin will take you up, as\nit did Arion of Methymna; or those horses sent by Neptune to Pelops\n(who are said to have carried chariots so rapidly as to be borne up by\nthe waves) will receive you, and convey you wherever you please. Cast\naway all fear.\" So, though your pains be ever so sharp and\ndisagreeable, if the case is not such that it is worth your while to\nendure them, you see whither you may betake yourself. I think this will\ndo for the present. But perhaps you still abide by your opinion.\n\n_A._ Not in the least, indeed; and I hope I am freed by these two days'\ndiscourses from the fear of two things that I greatly dreaded.\n\n_M._ To-morrow, then, for rhetoric, as we were saying. But I see we\nmust not drop our philosophy.\n\n_A._ No, indeed; we will have the one in the forenoon, and this at the\nusual time.\n\n_M._ It shall be so, and I will comply with your very laudable\ninclinations.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\nON GRIEF OF MIND.\n\n\nI. What reason shall I assign, O Brutus, why, as we consist of mind and\nbody, the art of curing and preserving the body should be so much\nsought after, and the invention of it, as being so useful, should be\nascribed to the immortal Gods; but the medicine of the mind should not\nhave been so much the object of inquiry while it was unknown, nor so\nmuch attended to and cultivated after its discovery, nor so well\nreceived or approved of by some, and accounted actually disagreeable,\nand looked upon with an envious eye by many? Is it because we, by means\nof the mind, judge of the pains and disorders of the body, but do not,\nby means of the body, arrive at any perception of the disorders of the\nmind? Hence it comes that the mind only judges of itself when that very\nfaculty by which it is judged is in a bad state. Had nature given us\nfaculties for discerning and viewing herself, and could we go through\nlife by keeping our eye on her--our best guide--there would be no\nreason certainly why any one should be in want of philosophy or\nlearning; but, as it is, she has furnished us only with some feeble\nrays of light, which we immediately extinguish so completely by evil\nhabits and erroneous opinions that the light of nature is nowhere\nvisible. The seeds of virtues are natural to our constitutions, and,\nwere they suffered to come to maturity, would naturally conduct us to a\nhappy life; but now, as soon as we are born and received into the\nworld, we are instantly familiarized with all kinds of depravity and\nperversity of opinions; so that we may be said almost to suck in error\nwith our nurse's milk. When we return to our parents, and are put into\nthe hands of tutors and governors, we are imbued with so many errors\nthat truth gives place to falsehood, and nature herself to established\nopinion.\n\nII. To these we may add the poets; who, on account of the appearance\nthey exhibit of learning and wisdom, are heard, read, and got by heart,\nand make a deep impression on our minds. But when to these are added\nthe people, who are, as it were, one great body of instructors, and the\nmultitude, who declare unanimously for what is wrong, then are we\naltogether overwhelmed with bad opinions, and revolt entirely from\nnature; so that they seem to deprive us of our best guide who have\ndecided that there is nothing better for man, nothing more worthy of\nbeing desired by him, nothing more excellent, than honors and commands,\nand a high reputation with the people; which indeed every excellent man\naims at; but while he pursues that only true honor which nature has in\nview above all other objects, he finds himself busied in arrant\ntrifles, and in pursuit of no conspicuous form of virtue, but only some\nshadowy representation of glory. For glory is a real and express\nsubstance, not a mere shadow. It consists in the united praise of good\nmen, the free voice of those who form a true judgment of pre-eminent\nvirtue; it is, as it were, the very echo of virtue; and being generally\nthe attendant on laudable actions, should not be slighted by good men.\nBut popular fame, which would pretend to imitate it, is hasty and\ninconsiderate, and generally commends wicked and immoral actions, and\nthrows discredit upon the appearance and beauty of honesty by assuming\na resemblance of it. And it is owing to their not being able to\ndiscover the difference between them that some men ignorant of real\nexcellence, and in what it consists, have been the destruction of their\ncountry and of themselves. And thus the best men have erred, not so\nmuch in their intentions as by a mistaken conduct. What? is no cure to\nbe attempted to be applied to those who are carried away by the love of\nmoney, or the lust of pleasures, by which they are rendered little\nshort of madmen, which is the case of all weak people? or is it because\nthe disorders of the mind are less dangerous than those of the body? or\nbecause the body will admit of a cure, while there is no medicine\nwhatever for the mind?\n\nIII. But there are more disorders of the mind than of the body, and\nthey are of a more dangerous nature; for these very disorders are the\nmore offensive because they belong to the mind and disturb it; and the\nmind, when disordered, is, as Ennius says, in a constant error: it can\nneither bear nor endure anything, and is under the perpetual influence\nof desires. Now, what disorders can be worse to the body than these two\ndistempers of the mind (for I overlook others), weakness and desire?\nBut how, indeed, can it be maintained that the mind cannot prescribe\nfor itself, when she it is who has invented the medicines for the body,\nwhen, with regard to bodily cures, constitution and nature have a great\nshare, nor do all who suffer themselves to be cured find that effect\ninstantly; but those minds which are disposed to be cured, and submit\nto the precepts of the wise, may undoubtedly recover a healthy state?\nPhilosophy is certainly the medicine of the soul, whose assistance we\ndo not seek from abroad, as in bodily disorders, but we ourselves are\nbound to exert our utmost energy and power in order to effect our cure.\nBut as to philosophy in general, I have, I think, in my Hortensius,\nsufficiently spoken of the credit and attention which it deserves:\nsince that, indeed, I have been continually either disputing or writing\non its most material branches; and I have laid down in these books all\nthe discussions which took place between myself and my particular\nfriends at my Tusculan villa. But as I have spoken in the two former of\npain and death, this book shall be devoted to the account of the third\nday of our disputations.\n\nWe came down into the Academy when the day was already declining\ntowards afternoon, and I asked one of those who were present to propose\na subject for us to discourse on; and then the business was carried on\nin this manner:\n\nIV. _A._ My opinion is, that a wise man is subject to grief.\n\n_M._ What, and to the other perturbations of mind, as fears, lusts,\nanger? For these are pretty much like what the Greeks call [Greek:\npathe]. I might call them diseases, and that would be a literal\ntranslation, but it is not agreeable to our way of speaking. For envy,\ndelight, and pleasure are all called by the Greeks diseases, being\naffections of the mind not in subordination to reason; but we, I think,\nare right in calling the same motions of a disturbed soul\nperturbations, and in very seldom using the term diseases; though,\nperhaps, it appears otherwise to you.\n\n_A._ I am of your opinion.\n\n_M._ And do you think a wise man subject to these?\n\n_A._ Entirely, I think.\n\n_M._ Then that boasted wisdom is but of small account, if it differs so\nlittle from madness?\n\n_A._ What? does every commotion of the mind seem to you to be madness?\n\n_M._ Not to me only; but I apprehend, though I have often been\nsurprised at it, that it appeared so to our ancestors many ages before\nSocrates; from whom is derived all that philosophy which relates to\nlife and morals.\n\n_A._ How so?\n\n_M._ Because the name madness[35] implies a sickness of the mind and\ndisease; that is to say, an unsoundness and an unhealthiness of mind,\nwhich they call madness. But the philosophers call all perturbations of\nthe soul diseases, and their opinion is that no fool is ever free from\nthese; but all that are diseased are unsound; and the minds of all\nfools are diseased; therefore all fools are mad. For they held that\nsoundness of the mind depends on a certain tranquillity and steadiness;\nand a mind which was destitute of these qualities they called insane,\nbecause soundness was inconsistent with a perturbed mind just as much\nas with a disordered body.\n\nV. Nor were they less ingenious in calling the state of the soul devoid\nof the light of the mind, \"a being out of one's mind,\" \"a being beside\none's self.\" From whence we may understand that they who gave these\nnames to things were of the same opinion with Socrates, that all silly\npeople were unsound, which the Stoics have carefully preserved as being\nderived from him; for whatever mind is distempered (and, as I just now\nsaid, the philosophers call all perturbed motions of the mind\ndistempers) is no more sound than a body is when in a fit of sickness.\nHence it is that wisdom is the soundness of the mind, folly a sort of\nunsoundness, which is insanity, or a being out of one's mind: and these\nare much better expressed by the Latin words than the Greek, which you\nwill find the case also in many other topics. But we will discuss that\npoint elsewhere: let us now attend to our present subject. The very\nmeaning of the word describes the whole thing about which we are\ninquiring, both as to its substance and character. For we must\nnecessarily understand by \"sound\" those whose minds are under no\nperturbation from any motion as if it were a disease. They who are\ndifferently affected we must necessarily call \"unsound.\" So that\nnothing is better than what is usual in Latin, to say that they who are\nrun away with by their lust or anger have quitted the command over\nthemselves; though anger includes lust, for anger is defined to be the\nlust of revenge. They, then, who are said not to be masters of\nthemselves, are said to be so because they are not under the government\nof reason, to which is assigned by nature the power over the whole\nsoul. Why the Greeks should call this mania, I do not easily apprehend;\nbut we define it much better than they, for we distinguish this madness\n(_insania_), which, being allied to folly, is more extensive, from what\nwe call _furor_, or raving. The Greeks, indeed, would do so too, but\nthey have no one word that will express it: what we call _furor_, they\ncall [Greek: melancholia], as if the reason were affected only by a\nblack bile, and not disturbed as often by a violent rage, or fear, or\ngrief. Thus we say Athamas, Alcmaeon, Ajax, and Orestes were raving\n(_furere_); because a person affected in this manner was not allowed by\nthe Twelve Tables to have the management of his own affairs; therefore\nthe words are not, if he is mad (_insanus_), but if he begins to be\nraving (_furiosus_). For they looked upon madness to be an unsettled\nhumor that proceeded from not being of sound mind; yet such a person\nmight perform his ordinary duties, and discharge the usual and\ncustomary requirements of life: but they considered one that was raving\nas afflicted with a total blindness of the mind, which, notwithstanding\nit is allowed to be greater than madness, is nevertheless of such a\nnature that a wise man may be subject to raving (_furor_), but cannot\npossibly be afflicted by insanity (_insania_). But this is another\nquestion: let us now return to our original subject.\n\nVI. I think you said that it was your opinion that a wise man was\nliable to grief.\n\n_A._ And so, indeed, I think.\n\n_M._ It is natural enough to think so, for we are not the offspring of\nflints; but we have by nature something soft and tender in our souls,\nwhich may be put into a violent motion by grief, as by a storm; nor did\nthat Crantor, who was one of the most distinguished men that our\nAcademy has ever produced, say this amiss: \"I am by no means of their\nopinion who talk so much in praise of I know not what insensibility,\nwhich neither can exist, nor ought to exist. \"I would choose,\" says he,\n\"never to be ill; but should I be so, still I should choose to retain\nmy sensation, whether there was to be an amputation or any other\nseparation of anything from my body. For that insensibility cannot be\nbut at the expense of some unnatural ferocity of mind, or stupor of\nbody.\" But let us consider whether to talk in this manner be not\nallowing that we are weak, and yielding to our softness.\nNotwithstanding, let us be hardy enough, not only to lop off every arm\nof our miseries, but even to pluck up every fibre of their roots. Yet\nstill something, perhaps, may be left behind, so deep does folly strike\nits roots: but whatever may be left it will be no more than is\nnecessary. But let us be persuaded of this, that unless the mind be in\na sound state, which philosophy alone can effect, there can be no end\nof our miseries. Wherefore, as we began, let us submit ourselves to it\nfor a cure; we shall be cured if we choose to be. I shall advance\nsomething further. I shall not treat of grief alone, though that indeed\nis the principal thing; but, as I originally proposed, of every\nperturbation of the mind, as I termed it; disorder, as the Greeks call\nit: and first, with your leave, I shall treat it in the manner of the\nStoics, whose method is to reduce their arguments into a very small\nspace; afterward I shall enlarge more in my own way.\n\nVII. A man of courage is also full of faith. I do not use the word\nconfident, because, owing to an erroneous custom of speaking, that word\nhas come to be used in a bad sense, though it is derived from\nconfiding, which is commendable. But he who is full of faith is\ncertainly under no fear; for there is an inconsistency between faith\nand fear. Now, whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear; for\nwhatever things we grieve at when present we dread when hanging over us\nand approaching. Thus it comes about that grief is inconsistent with\ncourage: it is very probable, therefore, that whoever is subject to\ngrief is also liable to fear, and to a broken kind of spirits and\nsinking. Now, whenever these befall a man, he is in a servile state,\nand must own that he is overpowered; for whoever admits these feelings,\nmust admit timidity and cowardice. But these cannot enter into the mind\nof a man of courage; neither, therefore, can grief: but the man of\ncourage is the only wise man; therefore grief cannot befall the wise\nman. It is, besides, necessary that whoever is brave should be a man of\ngreat soul; that whoever is a man of a great soul should be invincible;\nwhoever is invincible looks down with contempt on all things here, and\nconsiders them, beneath him. But no one can despise those things on\naccount of which he may be affected with grief; from whence it follows\nthat a wise man is never affected with grief: for all wise men are\nbrave; therefore a wise man is not subject to grief. And as the eye,\nwhen disordered, is not in a good condition for performing its office\nproperly; and as the other parts, and the whole body itself, when\nunsettled, cannot perform their office and business; so the mind, when\ndisordered, is but ill-fitted to perform its duty. The office of the\nmind is to use its reason well; but the mind of a wise man is always in\ncondition to make the best use of his reason, and therefore is never\nout of order. But grief is a disorder of the mind; therefore a wise man\nwill be always free from it.\n\nVIII. And from these considerations we may get at a very probable\ndefinition of the temperate man, whom the Greeks call [Greek: sophron]:\nand they call that virtue [Greek: sophrosynen], which I at one time\ncall temperance, at another time moderation, and sometimes even\nmodesty; but I do not know whether that virtue may not be properly\ncalled frugality, which has a more confined meaning with the Greeks;\nfor they call frugal men [Greek: chresimous], which implies only that\nthey are useful; but our name has a more extensive meaning: for all\nabstinence, all innocency (which the Greeks have no ordinary name for,\nthough they might use the word [Greek: ablabeia], for innocency is that\ndisposition of mind which would offend no one) and several other\nvirtues are comprehended under frugality; but if this quality were of\nless importance, and confined in as small a compass as some imagine,\nthe surname of Piso[36] would not have been in so great esteem. But as\nwe allow him not the name of a frugal man (_frugi_), who either quits\nhis post through fear, which is cowardice; or who reserves to his own\nuse what was privately committed to his keeping, which is injustice; or\nwho fails in his military undertakings through rashness, which is\nfolly--for that reason the word frugality takes in these three virtues\nof fortitude, justice, and prudence, though it is indeed common to all\nvirtues, for they are all connected and knit together. Let us allow,\nthen, frugality itself to be another and fourth virtue; for its\npeculiar property seems to be, to govern and appease all tendencies to\ntoo eager a desire after anything, to restrain lust, and to preserve a\ndecent steadiness in everything. The vice in contrast to this is called\nprodigality (_nequitia_). Frugality, I imagine, is derived from the\nword _fruge_, the best thing which the earth produces; _nequitia_ is\nderived (though this is perhaps rather more strained; still, let us try\nit; we shall only be thought to have been trifling if there is nothing\nin what we say) from the fact of everything being to no purpose\n(_nequicquam_) in such a man; from which circumstance he is called also\n_Nihil_, nothing. Whoever is frugal, then, or, if it is more agreeable\nto you, whoever is moderate and temperate, such a one must of course be\nconsistent; whoever is consistent, must be quiet; the quiet man must be\nfree from all perturbation, therefore from grief likewise: and these\nare the properties of a wise man; therefore a wise man must be free\nfrom grief.\n\nIX. So that Dionysius of Heraclea is right when, upon this complaint of\nAchilles in Homer,\n\n    Well hast thou spoke, but at the tyrant's name\n    My rage rekindles, and my soul's in flame:\n    'Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave,\n    Disgraced, dishonor'd like the vilest slave[37]--\n\nhe reasons thus: Is the hand as it should be, when it is affected with\na swelling? or is it possible for any other member of the body, when\nswollen or enlarged, to be in any other than a disordered state? Must\nnot the mind, then, when it is puffed up, or distended, be out of\norder? But the mind of a wise man is always free from every kind of\ndisorder: it never swells, never is puffed up; but the mind when in\nanger is in a different state. A wise man, therefore, is never angry;\nfor when he is angry, he lusts after something; for whoever is angry\nnaturally has a longing desire to give all the pain he can to the\nperson who he thinks has injured him; and whoever has this earnest\ndesire must necessarily be much pleased with the accomplishment of his\nwishes; hence he is delighted with his neighbor's misery; and as a wise\nman is not capable of such feelings as these, he is therefore not\ncapable of anger. But should a wise man be subject to grief, he may\nlikewise be subject to anger; for as he is free from anger, he must\nlikewise be free from grief. Again, could a wise man be subject to\ngrief, he might also be liable to pity, or even might be open to a\ndisposition towards envy (_invidentia_); I do not say to envy\n(_invidia_), for that can only exist by the very act of envying: but we\nmay fairly form the word _invidentia_ from _invidendo_, and so avoid\nthe doubtful name _invidia;_ for this word is probably derived from\n_in_ and _video_, looking too closely into another's fortune; as it is\nsaid in the Melanippus,\n\n    Who envies me the flower of my children?\n\nwhere the Latin is _invidit florem._ It may appear not good Latin, but\nit is very well put by Accius; for as _video_ governs an accusative\ncase, so it is more correct to say _invideo florem_ than _flori._ We\nare debarred from saying so by common usage. The poet stood in his own\nright, and expressed himself with more freedom.\n\nX. Therefore compassion and envy are consistent in the same man; for\nwhoever is uneasy at any one's adversity is also uneasy at another's\nprosperity: as Theophrastus, while he laments the death of his\ncompanion Callisthenes, is at the same time disturbed at the success of\nAlexander; and therefore he says that Callisthenes met with man of the\ngreatest power and good fortune, but one who did not know how to make\nuse of his good fortune. And as pity is an uneasiness which arises from\nthe misfortunes of another, so envy is an uneasiness that proceeds from\nthe good success of another: therefore whoever is capable of pity is\ncapable of envy. But a wise man is incapable of envy, and consequently\nincapable of pity. But were a wise man used to grieve, to pity also\nwould be familiar to him; therefore to grieve is a feeling which cannot\naffect a wise man. Now, though these reasonings of the Stoics, and\ntheir conclusions, are rather strained and distorted, and ought to be\nexpressed in a less stringent and narrow manner, yet great stress is to\nbe laid on the opinions of those men who have a peculiarly bold and\nmanly turn of thought and sentiment. For our friends the Peripatetics,\nnotwithstanding all their erudition, gravity, and fluency of language,\ndo not satisfy me about the moderation of these disorders and diseases\nof the soul which they insist upon; for every evil, though moderate, is\nin its nature great. But our object is to make out that the wise man is\nfree from all evil; for as the body is unsound if it is ever so\nslightly affected, so the mind under any moderate disorder loses its\nsoundness; therefore the Romans have, with their usual accuracy of\nexpression, called trouble, and anguish, and vexation, on account of\nthe analogy between a troubled mind and a diseased body, disorders. The\nGreeks call all perturbation of mind by pretty nearly the same name;\nfor they name every turbid motion of the soul [Greek: pathos], that is\nto say, a distemper. But we have given them a more proper name; for a\ndisorder of the mind is very like a disease of the body. But lust does\nnot resemble sickness; neither does immoderate joy, which is an elated\nand exulting pleasure of the mind. Fear, too, is not very like a\ndistemper, though it is akin to grief of mind, but properly, as is also\nthe case with sickness of the body, so too sickness of mind has no name\nseparated from pain. And therefore I must explain the origin of this\npain, that is to say, the cause that occasions this grief in the mind,\nas if it were a sickness of the body. For as physicians think they have\nfound out the cure when they have discovered the cause of the\ndistemper, so we shall discover the method of curing melancholy when\nthe cause of it is found out.\n\nXI. The whole cause, then, is in opinion; and this observation applies\nnot to this grief alone, but to every other disorder of the mind, which\nare of four sorts, but consisting of many parts. For as every disorder\nor perturbation is a motion of the mind, either devoid of reason, or in\ndespite of reason, or in disobedience to reason, and as that motion is\nexcited by an opinion of either good or evil; these four perturbations\nare divided equally into two parts: for two of them proceed from an\nopinion of good, one of which is an exulting pleasure, that is to say,\na joy elated beyond measure, arising from an opinion of some present\ngreat good; the other is a desire which may fairly be called even a\nlust, and is an immoderate inclination after some conceived great good\nwithout any obedience to reason. Therefore these two kinds, the\nexulting pleasure and the lust, have their rise from an opinion of\ngood, as the other two, fear and grief, have from an opinion of evil.\nFor fear is an opinion of some great evil impending over us, and grief\nis an opinion of some great evil present; and, indeed, it is a freshly\nconceived opinion of an evil so great that to grieve at it seems right:\nit is of that kind that he who is uneasy at it thinks he has good\nreason to be so. Now we should exert, our utmost efforts to oppose\nthese perturbations--which are, as it were, so many furies let loose\nupon us and urged on by folly--if we are desirous to pass this share of\nlife that is allotted to us with ease and satisfaction. But of the\nother feelings I shall speak elsewhere: our business at present is to\ndrive away grief if we can, for that shall be the object of our present\ndiscussion, since you have said that it was your opinion that a wise\nman might be subject to grief, which I can by no means allow of; for it\nis a frightful, miserable, and detestable thing, which we should fly\nfrom with our utmost efforts--with all our sails and oars, as I may\nsay.\n\nXII. That descendant of Tantalus, how does he appear to you--he who\nsprung from Pelops, who formerly stole Hippodamia from her\nfather-in-law, King Oenomaus, and married her by force?--he who was\ndescended from Jupiter himself, how broken-hearted and dispirited does\nhe not seem!\n\n    Stand off, my friends, nor come within my shade,\n    That no pollutions your sound hearts pervade,\n    So foul a stain my body doth partake.\n\nWill you condemn yourself, Thyestes, and deprive yourself of life, on\naccount of the greatness of another's crime? What do you think of that\nson of Phoebus? Do you not look upon him as unworthy of his own\nfather's light?\n\n    Hollow his eyes, his body worn away,\n    His furrow'd cheeks his frequent tears betray;\n    His beard neglected, and his hoary hairs\n    Rough and uncomb'd, bespeak his bitter cares.\n\nO foolish AEetes! these are evils which you yourself have been the cause\nof, and are not occasioned by any accidents with which chance has\nvisited you; and you behaved as you did, even after you had been inured\nto your distress, and after the first swelling of the mind had\nsubsided!--whereas grief consists (as I shall show) in the notion of\nsome recent evil--but your grief, it is very plain, proceeded from the\nloss of your kingdom, not of your daughter, for you hated her, and\nperhaps with reason, but you could not calmly bear to part with your\nkingdom. But surely it is an impudent grief which preys upon a man for\nnot being able to command those that are free. Dionysius, it is true,\nthe tyrant of Syracuse, when driven from his country, taught a school\nat Corinth; so incapable was he of living without some authority. But\nwhat could be more impudent than Tarquin, who made war upon those who\ncould not bear his tyranny; and, when he could not recover his kingdom\nby the aid of the forces of the Veientians and the Latins, is said to\nhave betaken himself to Cuma, and to have died in that city of old age\nand grief!\n\nXIII. Do you, then, think that it can befall a wise man to be oppressed\nwith grief, that is to say, with misery? for, as all perturbation is\nmisery, grief is the rack itself. Lust is attended with heat, exulting\njoy with levity, fear with meanness, but grief with something greater\nthan these; it consumes, torments, afflicts, and disgraces a man; it\ntears him, preys upon his mind, and utterly destroys him: if we do not\nso divest ourselves of it as to throw it completely off, we cannot be\nfree from misery. And it is clear that there must be grief where\nanything has the appearance of a present sore and oppressing evil.\nEpicurus is of opinion that grief arises naturally from the imagination\nof any evil; so that whosoever is eye-witness of any great misfortune,\nif he conceives that the like may possibly befall himself, becomes sad\ninstantly from such an idea. The Cyrenaics think that grief is not\nengendered by every kind of evil, but only by unexpected, unforeseen\nevil; and that circumstance is, indeed, of no small effect on the\nheightening of grief; for whatsoever comes of a sudden appears more\nformidable. Hence these lines are deservedly commended:\n\n    I knew my son, when first he drew his breath,\n    Destined by fate to an untimely death;\n    And when I sent him to defend the Greeks,\n    War was his business, not your sportive freaks.\n\nXIV. Therefore, this ruminating beforehand upon future evils which you\nsee at a distance makes their approach more tolerable; and on this\naccount what Euripides makes Theseus say is much commended. You will\ngive me leave to translate them, as is usual with me:\n\n    I treasured up what some learn'd sage did tell,\n    And on my future misery did dwell;\n    I thought of bitter death, of being drove\n    Far from my home by exile, and I strove\n    With every evil to possess my mind,\n    That, when they came, I the less care might find.[38]\n\nBut Euripides says that of himself, which Theseus said he had heard\nfrom some learned man, for the poet had been a pupil of Anaxagoras,\nwho, as they relate, on hearing of the death of his son, said, \"I knew\nthat my son was mortal;\" which speech seems to intimate that such\nthings afflict those men who have not thought on them before.\nTherefore, there is no doubt but that all those things which are\nconsidered evils are the heavier from not being foreseen. Though,\nnotwithstanding this is not the only circumstance which occasions the\ngreatest grief, still, as the mind, by foreseeing and preparing for it,\nhas great power to make all grief the less, a man should at all times\nconsider all the events that may befall him in this life; and certainly\nthe excellence and divine nature of wisdom consists in taking a near\nview of, and gaining a thorough acquaintance with, all human affairs,\nin not being surprised when anything happens, and in thinking, before\nthe event, that there is nothing but what may come to pass.\n\n                      Wherefore ev'ry man,\n    When his affairs go on most swimmingly,\n    E'en then it most behooves to arm himself\n    Against the coming storm: loss, danger, exile,\n    Returning ever, let him look to meet;\n    His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick;\n    All common accidents, and may have happen'd\n    That nothing shall seem new or strange. But if\n    Aught has fall'n out beyond his hopes, all that\n    Let him account clear gain.[39]\n\nXV. Therefore, as Terence has so well expressed what he borrowed from\nphilosophy, shall not we, from whose fountains he drew it, say the same\nthing in a better manner, and abide by it with more steadiness? Hence\ncame that steady countenance, which, according to Xantippe, her husband\nSocrates always had; so that she said that she never observed any\ndifference in his looks when he went out and when he came home. Yet the\nlook of that old Roman, M. Crassus, who, as Lucilius says, never smiled\nbut once in his lifetime, was not of this kind, but placid and serene,\nfor so we are told. He, indeed, might well have had the same look at\nall times who never changed his mind, from which the countenance\nderives its expression. So that I am ready to borrow of the Cyrenaics\nthose arms against the accidents and events of life by means of which,\nby long premeditation, they break the force of all approaching evils;\nand at the same time I think that those very evils themselves arise\nmore from opinion than nature, for if they were real, no forecast could\nmake them lighter. But I shall speak more particularly on these matters\nafter I have first considered Epicurus's opinion, who thinks that all\npeople must necessarily be uneasy who believe themselves to be in any\nevils, let them be either foreseen and expected, or habitual to them;\nfor with him evils are not the less by reason of their continuance, nor\nthe lighter for having been foreseen; and it is folly to ruminate on\nevils to come, or such as, perhaps, never may come: every evil is\ndisagreeable enough when it does come; but he who is constantly\nconsidering that some evil may befall him is loading himself with a\nperpetual evil; and even should such evil never light on him, he\nvoluntarily takes upon himself unnecessary misery, so that he is under\nconstant uneasiness, whether he actually suffers any evil, or only\nthinks of it. But he makes the alleviation of grief depend on two\nthings--a ceasing to think on evil, and a turning to the contemplation\nof pleasure. For he thinks that the mind may possibly be under the\npower of reason, and follow her directions: he forbids us, therefore,\nto mind trouble, and calls us off from sorrowful reflections; he throws\na mist over our eyes to hinder us from the contemplation of misery.\nHaving sounded a retreat from this statement, he drives our thoughts on\nagain, and encourages them to view and engage the whole mind in the\nvarious pleasures with which he thinks the life of a wise man abounds,\neither from reflecting on the past, or from the hope of what is to\ncome. I have said these things in my own way; the Epicureans have\ntheirs. However, let us examine what they say; how they say it is of\nlittle consequence.\n\nXVI. In the first place, they are wrong in forbidding men to\npremeditate on futurity and blaming their wish to do so; for there is\nnothing that breaks the edge of grief and lightens it more than\nconsidering, during one's whole life, that there is nothing which it is\nimpossible should happen, or than, considering what human nature is, on\nwhat conditions life was given, and how we may comply with them. The\neffect of which is that we are always grieving, but that we never do\nso; for whoever reflects on the nature of things, the various turns of\nlife, and the weakness of human nature, grieves, indeed, at that\nreflection; but while so grieving he is, above all other times,\nbehaving as a wise man, for he gains these two things by it: one, that\nwhile he is considering the state of human nature he is performing the\nespecial duties of philosophy, and is provided with a triple medicine\nagainst adversity--in the first place, because he has long reflected\nthat such things might befall him, and this reflection by itself\ncontributes much towards lessening and weakening all misfortunes; and,\nsecondly, because he is persuaded that we should bear all the accidents\nwhich can happen to man with the feelings and spirit of a man; and,\nlastly, because he considers that what is blamable is the only evil.\nBut it is not your fault that something has happened to you which it\nwas impossible for man to avoid. For that withdrawing of our thoughts\nwhich he recommends when he calls us off from contemplating our\nmisfortunes is an imaginary action; for it is not in our power to\ndissemble or to forget those evils which lie heavy on us; they tear,\nvex, and sting us--they burn us up, and leave no breathing time. And do\nyou order us to forget them (for such forgetfulness is contrary to\nnature), and at the same time deprive us of the only assistance which\nnature affords, the being accustomed to them? For that, though it is\nbut a slow medicine (I mean that which is brought by lapse of time), is\nstill a very effectual one. You order me to employ my thoughts on\nsomething good, and forget my misfortunes. You would say something\nworthy a great philosopher if you thought those things good which are\nbest suited to the dignity of human nature.\n\nXVII. Should Pythagoras, Socrates, or Plato say to me, Why are you\ndejected or sad? Why do you faint, and yield to fortune, which,\nperhaps, may have power to harass and disturb you, but should not quite\nunman you? There is great power in the virtues; rouse them, if they\nchance to droop. Take fortitude for your guide, which will give you\nsuch spirits that you will despise everything that can befall man, and\nlook on it as a trifle. Add to this temperance, which is moderation,\nand which was just now called frugality, which will not suffer you to\ndo anything base or bad--for what is worse or baser than an effeminate\nman? Not even justice will suffer you to act in this manner, though she\nseems to have the least weight in this affair; but still,\nnotwithstanding, even she will inform you that you are doubly unjust\nwhen you both require what does not belong to you, inasmuch as though\nyou who have been born mortal demand to be placed in the condition of\nthe immortals, and at the same time you take it much to heart that you\nare to restore what was lent you. What answer will you make to\nprudence, who informs you that she is a virtue sufficient of herself\nboth to teach you a good life and also to secure you a happy one? And,\nindeed, if she were fettered by external circumstances, and dependent\non others, and if she did not originate in herself and return to\nherself, and also embrace everything in herself, so as to seek no\nadventitious aid from any quarter, I cannot imagine why she should\nappear deserving of such lofty panegyrics, or of being sought after\nwith such excessive eagerness. Now, Epicurus, if you call me back to\nsuch goods as these, I will obey you, and follow you, and use you as my\nguide, and even forget, as you order me, all my misfortunes; and I will\ndo this the more readily from a persuasion that they are not to be\nranked among evils at all. But you are for bringing my thoughts over to\npleasure. What pleasures? Pleasures of the body, I imagine, or such as\nare recollected or imagined on account of the body. Is this all? Do I\nexplain your opinion rightly? for your disciples are used to deny that\nwe understand at all what Epicurus means. This is what he says, and\nwhat that subtle fellow, old Zeno, who is one of the sharpest of them,\nused, when I was attending lectures at Athens, to enforce and talk so\nloudly of; saying that he alone was happy who could enjoy present\npleasure, and who was at the same time persuaded that he should enjoy\nit without pain, either during the whole or the greatest part of his\nlife; or if, should any pain interfere, if it was very sharp, then it\nmust be short; should it be of longer continuance, it would have more\nof what was sweet than bitter in it; that whosoever reflected on these\nthings would be happy, especially if satisfied with the good things\nwhich he had already enjoyed, and if he were without fear of death or\nof the Gods.\n\nXVIII. You have here a representation of a happy life according to\nEpicurus, in the words of Zeno, so that there is no room for\ncontradiction in any point. What, then? Can the proposing and thinking\nof such a life make Thyestes's grief the less, or AEetes's, of whom I\nspoke above, or Telamon's, who was driven from his country to penury\nand banishment? in wonder at whom men exclaimed thus:\n\n    Is this the man surpassing glory raised?\n    Is this that Telamon so highly praised\n    By wondering Greece, at whose sight, like the sun,\n    All others with diminish'd lustre shone?\n\nNow, should any one, as the same author says, find his spirits sink\nwith the loss of his fortune, he must apply to those grave philosophers\nof antiquity for relief, and not to these voluptuaries: for what great\nabundance of good do they promise? Suppose that we allow that to be\nwithout pain is the chief good? Yet that is not called pleasure. But it\nis not necessary at present to go through the whole: the question is,\nto what point are we to advance in order to abate our grief? Grant that\nto be in pain is the greatest evil: whosoever, then, has proceeded so\nfar as not to be in pain, is he, therefore, in immediate possession of\nthe greatest good? Why, Epicurus, do we use any evasions, and not allow\nin our own words the same feeling to be pleasure which you are used to\nboast of with such assurance? Are these your words or not? This is what\nyou say in that book which contains all the doctrine of your school;\nfor I will perform on this occasion the office of a translator, lest\nany one should imagine that I am inventing anything. Thus you speak:\n\"Nor can I form any notion of the chief good, abstracted from those\npleasures which are perceived by taste, or from what depends on hearing\nmusic, or abstracted from ideas raised by external objects visible to\nthe eye, or by agreeable motions, or from those other pleasures which\nare perceived by the whole man by means of any of his senses; nor can\nit possibly be said that the pleasures of the mind are excited only by\nwhat is good, for I have perceived men's minds to be pleased with the\nhopes of enjoying those things which I mentioned above, and with the\nidea that it should enjoy them without any interruption from pain.\" And\nthese are his exact words, so that any one may understand what were the\npleasures with which Epicurus was acquainted. Then he speaks thus, a\nlittle lower down: \"I have often inquired of those who have been called\nwise men what would be the remaining good if they should exclude from\nconsideration all these pleasures, unless they meant to give us nothing\nbut words. I could never learn anything from them; and unless they\nchoose that all virtue and wisdom should vanish and come to nothing,\nthey must say with me that the only road to happiness lies through\nthose pleasures which I mentioned above.\" What follows is much the\nsame, and his whole book on the chief good everywhere abounds with the\nsame opinions. Will you, then, invite Telamon to this kind of life to\nease his grief? And should you observe any one of your friends under\naffliction, would you rather prescribe him a sturgeon than a treatise\nof Socrates? or advise him to listen to the music of a water organ\nrather than to Plato? or lay before him the beauty and variety of some\ngarden, put a nosegay to his nose, burn perfumes before him, and bid\nhim crown himself with a garland of roses and woodbines? Should you add\none thing more, you would certainly wipe out all his grief.\n\nXIX. Epicurus must admit these arguments, or he must take out of his\nbook what I just now said was a literal translation; or, rather, he\nmust destroy his whole book, for it is crammed full of pleasures. We\nmust inquire, then, how we can ease him of his grief who speaks in this\nmanner:\n\n    My present state proceeds from fortune's stings;\n    By birth I boast of a descent from kings;\n    Hence may you see from what a noble height\n    I'm sunk by fortune to this abject plight.\n\nWhat! to ease his grief, must we mix him a cup of sweet wine, or\nsomething of that kind? Lo! the same poet presents us with another\nsentiment somewhere else:\n\n    I, Hector, once so great, now claim your aid.\n\nWe should assist her, for she looks out for help:\n\n    Where shall I now apply, where seek support?\n    Where hence betake me, or to whom resort?\"\n    No means remain of comfort or of joy,\n    In flames my palace, and in ruins Troy;\n    Each wall, so late superb, deformed nods,\n    And not an altar's left t' appease the Gods.\n\nYou know what should follow, and particularly this:\n\n    Of father, country, and of friends bereft,\n    Not one of all these sumptuous temples left;\n    Which, while the fortune of our house did stand,\n    With rich wrought ceilings spoke the artist's hand.\n\nO excellent poet! though despised by those who sing the verses of\nEuphorion. He is sensible that all things which come on a sudden are\nharder to be borne. Therefore, when he had set off the riches of Priam\nto the best advantage, which had the appearance of a long continuance,\nwhat does he add?\n\n    Lo! these all perish'd in one blazing pile;\n    The foe old Priam of his life beguiled,\n    And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defiled.\n\nAdmirable poetry! There is something mournful in the subject, as well\nas in the words and measure. We must drive away this grief of hers: how\nis that to be done? Shall we lay her on a bed of down; introduce a\nsinger; shall we burn cedar, or present here with some pleasant liquor,\nand provide her something to eat? Are these the good things which\nremove the most afflicting grief? For you but just now said you knew of\nno other good. I should agree with Epicurus that we ought to be called\noff from grief to contemplate good things, if we could only agree upon\nwhat was good.\n\nXX. It may be said, What! do you imagine Epicurus really meant this,\nand that he maintained anything so sensual? Indeed I do not imagine so,\nfor I am sensible that he has uttered many excellent things and\nsentiments, and delivered maxims of great weight. Therefore, as I said\nbefore, I am speaking of his acuteness, not of his morals. Though he\nshould hold those pleasures in contempt which he just now commended,\nyet I must remember wherein he places the chief good. For he was not\ncontented with barely saying this, but he has explained what he meant:\nhe says that taste, and embraces, and sports, and music, and those\nforms which affect the eyes with pleasure, are the chief good. Have I\ninvented this? have I misrepresented him? I should be glad to be\nconfuted; for what am I endeavoring at but to clear up truth in every\nquestion? Well, but the same man says that pleasure is at its height\nwhere pain ceases, and that to be free from all pain is the very\ngreatest pleasure. Here are three very great mistakes in a very few\nwords. One is, that he contradicts himself; for, but just now, he could\nnot imagine anything good unless the senses were in a manner tickled\nwith some pleasure; but now he says that to be free from pain is the\nhighest pleasure. Can any one contradict himself more? The next mistake\nis, that where there is naturally a threefold division--the first, to\nbe pleased; next, to be in pain; the last, to be affected neither by\npleasure nor pain--he imagines the first and the last to be the same,\nand makes no difference between pleasure and a cessation of pain. The\nlast mistake he falls into in common with some others, which is this:\nthat as virtue is the most desirable thing, and as philosophy has been\ninvestigated with a view to the attainment of it, he has separated the\nchief good from virtue. But he commends virtue, and that frequently;\nand indeed C. Gracchus, when he had made the largest distributions of\nthe public money, and had exhausted the treasury, nevertheless spoke\nmuch of defending the treasury. What signifies what men say when we see\nwhat they do? That Piso, who was surnamed Frugal, had always harangued\nagainst the law that was proposed for distributing the corn; but when\nit had passed, though a man of consular dignity, he came to receive the\ncorn. Gracchus observed Piso standing in the court, and asked him, in\nthe hearing of the people, how it was consistent for him to take corn\nby a law he had himself opposed. \"It was,\" said he, \"against your\ndistributing my goods to every man as you thought proper; but, as you\ndo so, I claim my share.\" Did not this grave and wise man sufficiently\nshow that the public revenue was dissipated by the Sempronian law? Read\nGracchus's speeches, and you will pronounce him the advocate of the\ntreasury. Epicurus denies that any one can live pleasantly who does not\nlead a life of virtue; he denies that fortune has any power over a wise\nman; he prefers a spare diet to great plenty, and maintains that a wise\nman is always happy. All these things become a philosopher to say, but\nthey are not consistent with pleasure. But the reply is, that he doth\nnot mean _that_ pleasure: let him mean any pleasure, it must be such a\none as makes no part of virtue. But suppose we are mistaken as to his\npleasure; are we so, too, as to his pain? I maintain, therefore, the\nimpropriety of language which that man uses, when talking of virtue,\nwho would measure every great evil by pain.\n\nXXI. And indeed the Epicureans, those best of men--for there is no\norder of men more innocent--complain that I take great pains to inveigh\nagainst Epicurus. We are rivals, I suppose, for some honor or\ndistinction. I place the chief good in the mind, he in the body; I in\nvirtue, he in pleasure; and the Epicureans are up in arms, and implore\nthe assistance of their neighbors, and many are ready to fly to their\naid. But as for my part, I declare that I am very indifferent about the\nmatter, and that I consider the whole discussion which they are so\nanxious about at an end. For what! is the contention about the Punic\nwar? on which very subject, though M. Cato and L. Lentulus were of\ndifferent opinions, still there was no difference between them. But\nthese men behave with too much heat, especially as the opinions which\nthey would uphold are no very spirited ones, and such as they dare not\nplead for either in the senate or before the assembly of the people, or\nbefore the army or the censors. But, however, I will argue with them\nanother time, and with such a disposition that no quarrel shall arise\nbetween us; for I shall be ready to yield to their opinions when\nfounded on truth. Only I must give them this advice: That were it ever\nso true, that a wise man regards nothing but the body, or, to express\nmyself with more decency, never does anything except what is expedient,\nand views all things with exclusive reference to his own advantage, as\nsuch things are not very commendable, they should confine them to their\nown breasts, and leave off talking with that parade of them.\n\nXXII. What remains is the opinion of the Cyrenaics, who think that men\ngrieve when anything happens unexpectedly. And that is indeed, as I\nsaid before, a great aggravation of a misfortune; and I know that it\nappeared so to Chrysippus--\"Whatever falls out unexpected is so much\nthe heavier.\" But the whole question does not turn on this; though the\nsudden approach of an enemy sometimes occasions more confusion than it\nwould if you had expected him, and a sudden storm at sea throws the\nsailors into a greater fright than one which they have foreseen; and it\nis the same in many other cases. But when you carefully consider the\nnature of what was expected, you will find nothing more than that all\nthings which come on a sudden appear greater; and this upon two\naccounts: first of all, because you have not time to consider how great\nthe accident is; and, secondly, because you are probably persuaded that\nyou could have guarded against it had you foreseen if, and therefore\nthe misfortune, having been seemingly encountered by your own fault,\nmakes your grief the greater. That it is so, time evinces; which, as it\nadvances, brings with it so much mitigation that though the same\nmisfortunes continue, the grief not only becomes the less, but in some\ncases is entirely removed. Many Carthaginians were slaves at Rome, and\nmany Macedonians, when Perseus their king was taken prisoner. I saw,\ntoo, when I was a young man, some Corinthians in the Peloponnesus. They\nmight all have lamented with Andromache,\n\n    All these I saw......;\n\nbut they had perhaps given over lamenting themselves, for by their\ncountenances, and speech, and other gestures you might have taken them\nfor Argives or Sicyonians. And I myself was more concerned at the\nruined walls of Corinth than the Corinthians themselves were, whose\nminds by frequent reflection and time had become callous to such\nsights. I have read a book of Clitomachus, which he sent to his\nfellow-citizens who were prisoners, to comfort them after the\ndestruction of Carthage. There is in it a treatise written by\nCarneades, which, as Clitomachus says, he had inserted into his book;\nthe subject was, \"That it appeared probable that a wise man would\ngrieve at the state of subjection of his country,\" and all the\narguments which Carneades used against this proposition are set down in\nthe book. There the philosopher applies such a strong medicine to a\nfresh grief as would be quite unnecessary in one of any continuance;\nnor, if this very book had been sent to the captives some years after,\nwould it have found any wounds to cure, but only scars; for grief, by a\ngentle progress and slow degrees, wears away imperceptibly. Not that\nthe circumstances which gave rise to it are altered, or can be, but\nthat custom teaches what reason should--that those things which before\nseemed to be of some consequence are of no such great importance, after\nall.\n\nXXIII. It may be said, What occasion is there to apply to reason, or to\nany sort of consolation such as we generally make use of, to mitigate\nthe grief of the afflicted? For we have this argument always at hand,\nthat nothing ought to appear unexpected. But how will any one be\nenabled to bear his misfortunes the better by knowing that it is\nunavoidable that such things should happen to man? Saying this\nsubtracts nothing from the sum of the grief: it only asserts that\nnothing has fallen out but what might have been anticipated; and yet\nthis manner of speaking has some little consolation in it, though I\napprehend not a great deal. Therefore those unlooked-for things have\nnot so much force as to give rise to all our grief; the blow perhaps\nmay fall the heavier, but whatever happens does not appear the greater\non that account. No, it is the fact of its having happened lately, and\nnot of its having befallen us unexpectedly, that makes it seem the\ngreater. There are two ways, then, of discerning the truth, not only of\nthings that seem evil, but of those that have the appearance of good.\nFor we either inquire into the nature of the thing, of what\ndescription, and magnitude, and importance it is--as sometimes with\nregard to poverty, the burden of which we may lighten when by our\ndisputations we show how few things nature requires, and of what a\ntrifling kind they are--or, without any subtle arguing, we refer them\nto examples, as here we instance a Socrates, there a Diogenes, and then\nagain that line in Caecilius,\n\n    Wisdom is oft conceal'd in mean attire.\n\nFor as poverty is of equal weight with all, what reason can be given\nwhy what was borne by Fabricius should be spoken of by any one else as\nunsupportable when it falls upon themselves? Of a piece with this is\nthat other way of comforting, which consists in pointing out that\nnothing has happened but what is common to human nature; for this\nargument doth not only inform us what human nature is, but implies that\nall things are tolerable which others have borne and are bearing.\n\nXXIV. Is poverty the subject? They tell you of many who have submitted\nto it with patience. Is it the contempt of honors? They acquaint you\nwith some who never enjoyed any, and were the happier for it; and of\nthose who have preferred a private retired life to public employment,\nmentioning their names with respect; they tell you of the verse[40] of\nthat most powerful king who praises an old man, and pronounces him\nhappy because he was unknown to fame and seemed likely to arrive at the\nhour of death in obscurity and without notice. Thus, too, they have\nexamples for those who are deprived of their children: they who are\nunder any great grief are comforted by instances of like affliction;\nand thus the endurance of every misfortune is rendered more easy by the\nfact of others having undergone the same, and the fate of others causes\nwhat has happened to appear less important than it has been previously\nthought, and reflection thus discovers to us how much opinion had\nimposed on us. And this is what the Telamon declares, \"I, when my son\nwas born,\" etc.; and thus Theseus, \"I on my future misery did dwell;\"\nand Anaxagoras, \"I knew my son was mortal.\" All these men, by\nfrequently reflecting on human affairs, had discovered that they were\nby no means to be estimated by the opinion of the multitude; and,\nindeed, it seems to me to be pretty much the same case with those who\nconsider beforehand as with those who derive their remedies from time,\nexcepting that a kind of reason cures the one, and the other remedy is\nprovided by nature; by which we discover (and this contains the whole\nmarrow of the matter) that what was imagined to be the greatest evil is\nby no means so great as to defeat the happiness of life. And the effect\nof this is, that the blow is greater by reason of its not having been\nforeseen, and not, as they suppose, that when similar misfortunes\nbefall two different people, that man only is affected with grief whom\nthis calamity has befallen unexpectedly. So that some persons, under\nthe oppression of grief, are said to have borne it actually worse for\nhearing of this common condition of man, that we are born under such\nconditions as render it impossible for a man to be exempt from all\nevil.\n\nXXV. For this reason Carneades, as I see our friend Antiochus writes,\nused to blame Chrysippus for commending these verses of Euripides:\n\n    Man, doom'd to care, to pain, disease, and strife,\n    Walks his short journey thro' the vale of life:\n    Watchful attends the cradle and the grave,\n    And passing generations longs to save:\n    Last, dies himself: yet wherefore should we mourn?\n    For man must to his kindred dust return;\n    Submit to the destroying hand of fate,\n    As ripen'd ears the harvest-sickle wait.[41]\n\nHe would not allow a speech of this kind to avail at all to the cure of\nour grief, for he said it was a lamentable case itself that we were\nfallen into the hands of such a cruel fate; and that a speech like\nthat, preaching up comfort from the misfortunes of another, was a\ncomfort adapted only to those of a malevolent disposition. But to me it\nappears far otherwise; for the necessity of bearing what is the common\ncondition of humanity forbids your resisting the will of the Gods, and\nreminds you that you are a man, which reflection greatly alleviates\ngrief; and the enumeration of these examples is not produced with a\nview to please those of a malevolent disposition, but in order that any\none in affliction may be induced to bear what he observes many others\nhave previously borne with tranquillity and moderation. For they who\nare falling to pieces, and cannot hold together through the greatness\nof their grief, should be supported by all kinds of assistance. From\nwhence Chrysippus thinks that grief is called [Greek: lype], as it were\n[Greek: lysis], that is to say, a dissolution of the whole man--the\nwhole of which I think may be pulled up by the roots by explaining, as\nI said at the beginning, the cause of grief; for it is nothing else but\nan opinion and judgment formed of a present acute evil. And thus any\nbodily pain, let it be ever so grievous, may be endurable where any\nhopes are proposed of some considerable good; and we receive such\nconsolation from a virtuous and illustrious life that they who lead\nsuch lives are seldom attacked by grief, or but slightly affected by\nit.\n\nXXVI. But as besides this opinion of great evil there is this other\nadded also--that we ought to lament what has happened, that it is right\nso to do, and part of our duty, then is brought about that terrible\ndisorder of mind, grief. And it is to this opinion that we owe all\nthose various and horrid kinds of lamentation, that neglect of our\npersons, that womanish tearing of our cheeks, that striking on our\nthighs, breasts, and heads. Thus Agamemnon, in Homer and in Accius,\n\n    Tears in his grief his uncomb'd locks;[42]\n\nfrom whence comes that pleasant saying of Bion, that the foolish king\nin his sorrow tore away the hairs of his head, imagining that his grief\nwould be alleviated by baldness. But men do all these things from being\npersuaded that they ought to do so. And thus AEschines inveighs against\nDemosthenes for sacrificing within seven days after the death of his\ndaughter. But with what eloquence, with what fluency, does he attack\nhim! what sentiments does he collect! what words does he hurl against\nhim! You may see by this that an orator may do anything; but nobody\nwould approve of such license if it were not that we have an idea\ninnate in our minds that every good man ought to lament the loss of a\nrelation as bitterly as possible. And it is owing to this that some\nmen, when in sorrow, betake themselves to deserts, as Homer says of\nBellerophon:\n\n                   Distracted in his mind,\n    Forsook by heaven, forsaking human kind,\n    Wide o'er the Aleian field he chose to stray,\n    A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way![43]\n\nAnd thus Niobe is feigned to have been turned into stone, from her\nnever speaking, I suppose, in her grief. But they imagine Hecuba to\nhave been converted into a bitch, from her rage and bitterness of mind.\nThere are others who love to converse with solitude itself when in\ngrief, as the nurse in Ennius,\n\n    Fain would I to the heavens find earth relate\n    Medea's ceaseless woes and cruel fate.[44]\n\nXXVII. Now all these things are done in grief, from a persuasion of\ntheir truth and propriety and necessity; and it is plain that those who\nbehave thus do so from a conviction of its being their duty; for should\nthese mourners by chance drop their grief, and either act or speak for\na moment in a more calm or cheerful manner, they presently check\nthemselves and return to their lamentations again, and blame themselves\nfor having been guilty of any intermissions from their grief; and\nparents and masters generally correct children not by words only, but\nby blows, if they show any levity by either word or deed when the\nfamily is under affliction, and, as it were, oblige them to be\nsorrowful. What! does it not appear, when you have ceased to mourn, and\nhave discovered that your grief has been ineffectual, that the whole of\nthat mourning was voluntary on your part? What does that man say in\nTerence who punishes himself, the Self-tormentor?\n\n    I think I do my son less harm, O Chremes,\n    As long as I myself am miserable.\n\nHe determines to be miserable: and can any one determine on anything\nagainst his will?\n\n    I well might think that I deserved all evil.\n\nHe would think he deserved any misfortune were he otherwise than\nmiserable! Therefore, you see, the evil is in opinion, not in nature.\nHow is it when some things do of themselves prevent your grieving at\nthem? as in Homer, so many died and were buried daily that they had not\nleisure to grieve: where you find these lines--\n\n    The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall,\n    And endless were the grief to weep for all.\n    Eternal sorrows what avails to shed?\n    Greece honors not with solemn fasts the dead:\n    Enough when death demands the brave to pay\n    The tribute of a melancholy day.\n    One chief with patience to the grave resign'd,\n    Our care devolves on others left behind.[45]\n\nTherefore it is in our own power to lay aside grief upon occasion; and\nis there any opportunity (seeing the thing is in our own power) that we\nshould let slip of getting rid of care and grief? It was plain that the\nfriends of Cnaeus Pompeius, when they saw him fainting under his wounds,\nat the very moment of that most miserable and bitter sight were under\ngreat uneasiness how they themselves, surrounded by the enemy as they\nwere, should escape, and were employed in nothing but encouraging the\nrowers and aiding their escape; but when they reached Tyre, they began\nto grieve and lament over him. Therefore, as fear with them, prevailed\nover grief, cannot reason and true philosophy have the same effect with\na wise man?\n\nXXVIII. But what is there more effectual to dispel grief than the\ndiscovery that it answers no purpose, and has been undergone to no\naccount? Therefore, if we can get rid of it, we need never have been\nsubject to it. It must be acknowledged, then, that men take up grief\nwilfully and knowingly; and this appears from the patience of those\nwho, after they have been exercised in afflictions and are better able\nto bear whatever befalls them, suppose themselves hardened against\nfortune; as that person in Euripides,\n\n    Had this the first essay of fortune been,\n    And I no storms thro' all my life had seen,\n    Wild as a colt I'd broke from reason's sway;\n    But frequent griefs have taught me to obey.[46]\n\nAs, then, the frequent bearing of misery makes grief the lighter, we\nmust necessarily perceive that the cause and original of it does not\nlie in the calamity itself. Your principal philosophers, or lovers of\nwisdom, though they have not yet arrived at perfect wisdom, are not\nthey sensible that they are in the greatest evil? For they are foolish,\nand foolishness is the greatest of all evils, and yet they lament not.\nHow shall we account for this? Because opinion is not fixed upon that\nkind of evil, it is not our opinion that it is right, meet, and our\nduty to be uneasy because we are not all wise men. Whereas this opinion\nis strongly affixed to that uneasiness where mourning is concerned,\nwhich is the greatest of all grief. Therefore Aristotle, when he blames\nsome ancient philosophers for imagining that by their genius they had\nbrought philosophy to the highest perfection, says, they must be either\nextremely foolish or extremely vain; but that he himself could see that\ngreat improvements had been made therein in a few years, and that\nphilosophy would in a little time arrive at perfection. And\nTheophrastus is reported to have reproached nature at his death for\ngiving to stags and crows so long a life, which was of no use to them,\nbut allowing only so short a span to men, to whom length of days would\nhave been of the greatest use; for if the life of man could have been\nlengthened, it would have been able to provide itself with all kinds of\nlearning, and with arts in the greatest perfection. He lamented,\ntherefore, that he was dying just when he had begun to discover these.\nWhat! does not every grave and distinguished philosopher acknowledge\nhimself ignorant of many things, and confess that there are many things\nwhich he must learn over and over again? And yet, though these men are\nsensible that they are standing still in the very midway of folly, than\nwhich nothing can be worse, they are under no great affliction, because\nno opinion that it is their duty to lament is ever mingled with this\nknowledge. What shall we say of those who think it unbecoming in a man\nto grieve? among whom we may reckon Q. Maximus, when he buried his son\nthat had been consul, and L. Paulus, who lost two sons within a few\ndays of one another. Of the same opinion was M. Cato, who lost his son\njust after he had been elected praetor, and many others, whose names I\nhave collected in my book on Consolation. Now what made these men so\neasy, but their persuasion that grief and lamentation was not becoming\nin a man? Therefore, as some give themselves up to grief from an\nopinion that it is right so to do, they refrained themselves, from an\nopinion that it was discreditable; from which we may infer that grief\nis owing more to opinion than nature.\n\nXXIX. It may be said, on the other side, Who is so mad as to grieve of\nhis own accord? Pain proceeds from nature, which you must submit to,\nsay they, agreeably to what even your own Crantor teaches, for it\npresses and gains upon you unavoidably, and cannot possibly be\nresisted. So that the very same Oileus, in Sophocles, who had before\ncomforted Telamon on the death of Ajax, on hearing of the death of his\nown son, is broken-hearted. On this alteration of his mind we have\nthese lines:\n\n    Show me the man so well by wisdom taught\n    That what he charges to another's fault,\n    When like affliction doth himself betide,\n    True to his own wise counsel will abide.[47]\n\nNow, when they urge these things, their endeavor is to prove that\nnature is absolutely and wholly irresistible; and yet the same people\nallow that we take greater grief on ourselves than nature requires.\nWhat madness is it, then, in us to require the same from others? But\nthere are many reasons for our taking grief on us. The first is from\nthe opinion of some evil, on the discovery and certainty of which grief\ncomes of course. Besides, many people are persuaded that they are doing\nsomething very acceptable to the dead when they lament bitterly over\nthem. To these may be added a kind of womanish superstition, in\nimagining that when they have been stricken by the afflictions sent by\nthe Gods, to acknowledge themselves afflicted and humbled by them is\nthe readiest way of appeasing them. But most men appear to be unaware\nwhat contradictions these things are full of. They commend those who\ndie calmly, but they blame those who can bear the loss of another with\nthe same calmness, as if it were possible that it should be true, as is\noccasionally said in love speeches, that any one can love another more\nthan himself. There is, indeed, something excellent in this, and, if\nyou examine it, something no less just than true, that we love those\nwho ought to be most dear to us as well as we love ourselves; but to\nlove them more than ourselves is absolutely impossible; nor is it\ndesirable in friendship that I should love my friend more than myself,\nor that he should love me so; for this would occasion much confusion in\nlife, and break in upon all the duties of it.\n\nXXX. But we will speak of this another time: at present it is\nsufficient not to attribute our misery to the loss of our friends, nor\nto love them more than, if they themselves could be sensible of our\nconduct, they would approve of, or at least not more than we do\nourselves. Now as to what they say, that some are not at all appeased\nby our consolations; and, moreover, as to what they add, that the\ncomforters themselves acknowledge they are miserable when fortune\nvaries the attack and falls on them--in both these cases the solution\nis easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in our own folly; and\nmuch may be said against folly. But men who do not admit of consolation\nseem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who cannot bear their\nmisfortunes with that temper which they recommend to others are not\nmore faulty in this particular than most other persons; for we see that\ncovetous men find fault with others who are covetous, as do the\nvainglorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the pursuit of\nglory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive the\nvices of others, but to forget its own. But since we find that grief is\nremoved by length of time, we have the greatest proof that the strength\nof it depends not merely on time, but on the daily consideration of it.\nFor if the cause continues the same, and the man be the same, how can\nthere be any alteration in the grief, if there is no change in what\noccasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves? Therefore it is from\ndaily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance for\nwhich you grieve, and not from the length of time, that you procure a\nremedy for your grief.\n\nXXXI. Here some people talk of moderate grief; but if such be natural,\nwhat occasion is there for consolation? for nature herself will\ndetermine, the measure of it: but if it depends on and is caused by\nopinion, the whole opinion should be destroyed. I think that it has\nbeen sufficiently said, that grief arises from an opinion of some\npresent evil, which includes this belief, that it is incumbent on us to\ngrieve. To this definition Zeno has added, very justly, that the\nopinion of this present evil should be recent. Now this word recent\nthey explain thus: those are not the only recent things which happened\na little while ago; but as long as there shall be any force, or vigor,\nor freshness in that imagined evil, so long it is entitled to the name\nof recent. Take the case of Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, King of\nCaria, who made that noble sepulchre at Halicarnassus; while she lived,\nshe lived in grief, and died of it, being worn out by it, for that\nopinion was always recent with her: but you cannot call that recent\nwhich has already begun to decay through time. Now the duty of a\ncomforter is, to remove grief entirely, to quiet it, or draw it off as\nmuch as you can, or else to keep it under, and prevent its spreading\nany further, and to divert one's attention to other matters. There are\nsome who think, with Cleanthes, that the only duty of a comforter is to\nprove that what one is lamenting is by no means an evil. Others, as the\nPeripatetics, prefer urging that the evil is not great. Others, with\nEpicurus, seek to divert your attention from the evil to good: some\nthink it sufficient to show that nothing has happened but what you had\nreason to expect; and this is the practice of the Cyrenaics. But\nChrysippus thinks that the main thing in comforting is, to remove the\nopinion from the person who is grieving, that to grieve is his bounden\nduty. There are others who bring together all these various kinds of\nconsolations, for people are differently affected; as I have done\nmyself in my book on Consolation; for as my own mind was much\ndisordered, I have attempted in that book to discover every method of\ncure. But the proper season is as much to be attended to in the cure of\nthe mind as of the body; as Prometheus in AEschylus, on its being said\nto him,\n\n    I think, Prometheus, you this tenet hold,\n    That all men's reason should their rage control?\n\nanswers,\n\n    Yes, when one reason properly applies;\n    Ill-timed advice will make the storm but rise.[48]\n\nXXXII. But the principal medicine to be applied in consolation is, to\nmaintain either that it is no evil at all, or a very inconsiderable\none: the next best to that is, to speak of the common condition of\nlife, having a view, if possible, to the state of the person whom you\ncomfort particularly. The third is, that it is folly to wear one's self\nout with grief which can avail nothing. For the comfort of Cleanthes is\nsuitable only for a wise man, who is in no need of any comfort at all;\nfor could you persuade one in grief that nothing is an evil but what is\nbase, you would not only cure him of grief, but folly. But the time for\nsuch precepts is not well chosen. Besides, Cleanthes does not seem to\nme sufficiently aware that affliction may very often proceed from that\nvery thing which he himself allows to be the greatest misfortune. For\nwhat shall we say? When Socrates had convinced Alcibiades, as we are\ntold, that he had no distinctive qualifications as a man different from\nother people, and that, in fact, there was no difference between him,\nthough a man of the highest rank, and a porter; and when Alcibiades\nbecame uneasy at this, and entreated Socrates, with tears in his eyes,\nto make him a man of virtue, and to cure him of that mean position;\nwhat shall we say to this, Cleanthes? Was there no evil in what\nafflicted Alcibiades thus? What strange things does Lycon say? who,\nmaking light of grief, says that it arises from trifles, from things\nthat affect our fortune or bodies, not from the evils of the mind.\nWhat, then? did not the grief of Alcibiades proceed from the defects\nand evils of the mind? I have already said enough of Epicurus's\nconsolation.\n\nXXXIII. Nor is that consolation much to be relied on, though it is\nfrequently practised, and sometimes has some effect, namely, \"That you\nare not alone in this.\" It has its effect, as I said, but not always,\nnor with every person, for some reject it; but much depends on the\napplication of it; for you ought rather to show, not how men in general\nhave been affected with such evils, but how men of sense have borne\nthem. As to Chrysippus's method, it is certainly founded in truth; but\nit is difficult to apply it in time of distress. It is a work of no\nsmall difficulty to persuade a person in affliction that he grieves\nmerely because he thinks it right so to do. Certainly, then, as in\npleadings we do not state all cases alike (if I may adopt the language\nof lawyers for a moment), but adapt what we have to say to the time, to\nthe nature of the subject under debate, and to the person; so, too, in\nalleviating grief, regard should be had to what kind of cure the party\nto be comforted can admit of. But, somehow or other, we have rambled\nfrom what you originally proposed. For your question was concerning a\nwise man, with whom nothing can have the appearance of evil that is not\ndishonorable; or at least, anything else would seem so small an evil\nthat by his wisdom he would so overmatch it as to make it wholly\ndisappear; and such a man makes no addition to his grief through\nopinion, and never conceives it right to torment himself above measure,\nnor to wear himself out with grief, which is the meanest thing\nimaginable. Reason, however, it seems, has demonstrated (though it was\nnot directly our object at the moment to inquire whether anything can\nbe called an evil except what is base) that it is in our power to\ndiscern that all the evil which there is in affliction has nothing\nnatural in it, but is contracted by our own voluntary judgment of it,\nand the error of opinion.\n\nXXXIV. But the kind of affliction of which I have treated is that which\nis the greatest; in order that when we have once got rid of that, it\nmay appear a business of less consequence to look after remedies for\nthe others. For there are certain things which are usually said about\npoverty; and also certain statements ordinarily applied to retired and\nundistinguished life. There are particular treatises on banishment, on\nthe ruin of one's country, on slavery, on weakness, on blindness, and\non every incident that can come under the name of an evil. The Greeks\ndivide these into different treatises and distinct books; but they do\nit for the sake of employment: not but that all such discussions are\nfull of entertainment. And yet, as physicians, in curing the whole\nbody, attend to even the most insignificant part of the body which is\nat all disordered, so does philosophy act, after it has removed grief\nin general; still, if any other deficiency exists--should poverty bite,\nshould ignominy sting, should banishment bring a dark cloud over us, or\nshould any of those things which I have just mentioned appear, there is\nfor each its appropriate consolation, which you shall hear whenever you\nplease. But we must have recourse again to the same original principle,\nthat a wise man is free from all sorrow, because it is vain, because it\nanswers no purpose, because it is not founded in nature, but on opinion\nand prejudice, and is engendered by a kind of invitation to grieve,\nwhen once men have imagined that it is their duty to do so. When, then,\nwe have subtracted what is altogether voluntary, that mournful\nuneasiness will be removed; yet some little anxiety, some slight\npricking, will still remain. They may indeed call this natural,\nprovided they give it not that horrid, solemn, melancholy name of\ngrief, which can by no means consist with wisdom. But how various and\nhow bitter are the roots of grief! Whatever they are, I propose, after\nhaving felled the trunk, to destroy them all; even if it should be\nnecessary, by allotting a separate dissertation to each, for I have\nleisure enough to do so, whatever time it may take up. But the\nprinciple of every uneasiness is the same, though they may appear under\ndifferent names. For envy is an uneasiness; so are emulation,\ndetraction, anguish, sorrow, sadness, tribulation, lamentation,\nvexation, grief, trouble, affliction, and despair. The Stoics define\nall these different feelings; and all those words which I have\nmentioned belong to different things, and do not, as they seem, express\nthe same ideas; but they are to a certain extent distinct, as I shall\nmake appear perhaps in another place. These are those fibres of the\nroots which, as I said at first, must be traced back and cut off and\ndestroyed, so that not one shall remain. You say it is a great and\ndifficult undertaking: who denies it? But what is there of any\nexcellency which has not its difficulty? Yet philosophy undertakes to\neffect it, provided we admit its superintendence. But enough of this.\nThe other books, whenever you please, shall be ready for you here or\nanywhere else.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\nOn other perturbations of the mind.\n\n\nI. I have often wondered, Brutus, on many occasions, at the ingenuity\nand virtues of our countrymen; but nothing has surprised me more than\ntheir development in those studies, which, though they came somewhat\nlate to us, have been transported into this city from Greece. For the\nsystem of auspices, and religious ceremonies, and courts of justice,\nand appeals to the people, the senate, the establishment of an army of\ncavalry and infantry, and the whole military discipline, were\ninstituted as early as the foundation of the city by royal authority,\npartly too by laws, not without the assistance of the Gods. Then with\nwhat a surprising and incredible progress did our ancestors advance\ntowards all kind of excellence, when once the republic was freed from\nthe regal power! Not that this is a proper occasion to treat of the\nmanners and customs of our ancestors, or of the discipline and\nconstitution of the city; for I have elsewhere, particularly in the six\nbooks I wrote on the Republic, given a sufficiently accurate account of\nthem. But while I am on this subject, and considering the study of\nphilosophy, I meet with many reasons to imagine that those studies were\nbrought to us from abroad, and not merely imported, but preserved and\nimproved; for they had Pythagoras, a man of consummate wisdom and\nnobleness of character, in a manner, before their eyes, who was in\nItaly at the time that Lucius Brutus, the illustrious founder of your\nnobility, delivered his country from tyranny. As the doctrine of\nPythagoras spread itself on all sides, it seems probable to me that it\nreached this city; and this is not only probable of itself, but it does\nreally appear to have been the case from many remains of it. For who\ncan imagine that, when it flourished so much in that part of Italy\nwhich was called Magna Graecia, and in some of the largest and most\npowerful cities, in which, first the name of Pythagoras, and then that\nof those men who were afterward his followers, was in so high esteem;\nwho can imagine, I say, that our people could shut their ears to what\nwas said by such learned men? Besides, it is even my opinion that it\nwas the great esteem in which the Pythagoreans were held, that gave\nrise to that opinion among those who came after him, that King Numa was\na Pythagorean. For, being acquainted with the doctrine and principles\nof Pythagoras, and having heard from their ancestors that this king was\na very wise and just man, and not being able to distinguish accurately\nbetween times and periods that were so remote, they inferred, from his\nbeing so eminent for his wisdom, that he had been a pupil of\nPythagoras.\n\nII. So far we proceed on conjecture. As to the vestiges of the\nPythagoreans, though I might collect many, I shall use but a few;\nbecause they have no connection with our present purpose. For, as it is\nreported to have been a custom with them to deliver certain precepts in\na more abstruse manner in verse, and to bring their minds from severe\nthought to a more composed state by songs and musical instruments; so\nCato, a writer of the very highest authority, says in his Origins, that\nit was customary with our ancestors for the guests at their\nentertainments, every one in his turn, to celebrate the praises and\nvirtues of illustrious men in song to the sound of the flute; from\nwhence it is clear that poems and songs were then composed for the\nvoice. And, indeed, it is also clear that poetry was in fashion from\nthe laws of the Twelve Tables, wherein it is provided that no song\nshould be made to the injury of another. Another argument of the\nerudition of those times is, that they played on instruments before the\nshrines of their Gods, and at the entertainments of their magistrates;\nbut that custom was peculiar to the sect I am speaking of. To me,\nindeed, that poem of Appius Caecus, which Panaetius commends so much in a\ncertain letter of his which is addressed to Quintus Tubero, has all the\nmarks of a Pythagorean author. We have many things derived from the\nPythagoreans in our customs, which I pass over, that we may not seem to\nhave learned that elsewhere which we look upon ourselves as the\ninventors of. But to return to our purpose. How many great poets as\nwell as orators have sprung up among us! and in what a short time! so\nthat it is evident that our people could arrive at any learning as soon\nas they had an inclination for it. But of other studies I shall speak\nelsewhere if there is occasion, as I have already often done.\n\nIII. The study of philosophy is certainly of long standing with us; but\nyet I do not find that I can give you the names of any philosopher\nbefore the age of Laelius and Scipio, in whose younger days we find that\nDiogenes the Stoic, and Carneades the Academic, were sent as\nambassadors by the Athenians to our senate. And as these had never been\nconcerned in public affairs, and one of them was a Cyrenean, the other\na Babylonian, they certainly would never have been forced from their\nstudies, nor chosen for that employment, unless the study of philosophy\nhad been in vogue with some of the great men at that time; who, though\nthey might employ their pens on other subjects--some on civil law,\nothers on oratory, others on the history of former times--yet promoted\nthis most extensive of all arts, the principle of living well, even\nmore by their life than by their writings. So that of that true and\nelegant philosophy (which was derived from Socrates, and is still\npreserved by the Peripatetics and by the Stoics, though they express\nthemselves differently in their disputes with the Academics) there are\nfew or no Latin records; whether this proceeds from the importance of\nthe thing itself, or from men's being otherwise employed, or from their\nconcluding that the capacity of the people was not equal to the\napprehension of them. But, during this silence, C. Amafinius arose and\ntook upon himself to speak; on the publishing of whose writings the\npeople were moved, and enlisted themselves chiefly under this sect,\neither because the doctrine was more easily understood, or because they\nwere invited thereto by the pleasing thoughts of amusement, or that,\nbecause there was nothing better, they laid hold of what was offered\nthem. And after Amafinius, when many of the same sentiments had written\nmuch about them, the Pythagoreans spread over all Italy: but that these\ndoctrines should be so easily understood and approved of by the\nunlearned is a great proof that they were not written with any great\nsubtlety, and they think their establishment to be owing to this.\n\nIV. But let every one defend his own opinion, for every one is at\nliberty to choose what he likes: I shall keep to my old custom; and,\nbeing under no restraint from the laws of any particular school, which\nin philosophy every one must necessarily confine himself to, I shall\nalways inquire what has the most probability in every question, and\nthis system, which I have often practised on other occasions, I have\nadhered closely to in my Tusculan Disputations. Therefore, as I have\nacquainted you with the disputations of the three former days, this\nbook shall conclude the discussion of the fourth day. When we had come\ndown into the Academy, as we had done the former days, the business was\ncarried on thus:\n\n_M._ Let any one say, who pleases, what he would wish to have\ndiscussed.\n\n_A._ I do not think a wise man can possibly be free from every\nperturbation of mind.\n\n_M._ He seemed by yesterday's discourse to be free from grief; unless\nyou agreed with us only to avoid taking up time.\n\n_A._ Not at all on that account, for I was extremely satisfied with\nyour discourse.\n\n_M._ You do not think, then, that a wise man is subject to grief?\n\n_A._ No, by no means.\n\n_M._ But if that cannot disorder the mind of a wise man, nothing else\ncan. For what--can such a man be disturbed by fear? Fear proceeds from\nthe same things when absent which occasion grief when present. Take\naway grief, then, and you remove fear.\n\nThe two remaining perturbations are, a joy elate above measure, and\nlust; and if a wise man is not subject to these, his mind will be\nalways at rest.\n\n_A._ I am entirely of that opinion.\n\n_M._ Which, then, shall we do? Shall I immediately crowd all my sails?\nor shall I make use of my oars, as if I were just endeavoring to get\nclear of the harbor?\n\n_A._ What is it that you mean, for I do not exactly comprehend you?\n\nV. _M._ Because, Chrysippus and the Stoics, when they discuss the\nperturbations of the mind, make great part of their debate to consist\nin definitions and distinctions; while they employ but few words on the\nsubject of curing the mind, and preventing it from being disordered.\nWhereas the Peripatetics bring a great many things to promote the cure\nof it, but have no regard to their thorny partitions and definitions.\nMy question, then, was, whether I should instantly unfold the sails of\nmy eloquence, or be content for a while to make less way with the oars\nof logic?\n\n_A._ Let it be so; for by the employment of both these means the\nsubject of our inquiry will be more thoroughly discussed.\n\n_M._ It is certainly the better way; and should anything be too\nobscure, you may examine that afterward.\n\n_A._ I will do so; but those very obscure points you will, as usual,\ndeliver with more clearness than the Greeks.\n\n_M._ I will, indeed, endeavor to do so; but it well requires great\nattention, lest, by losing one word, the whole should escape you. What\nthe Greeks call [Greek: pathe] we choose to name perturbations (or\ndisorders) rather than diseases; in explaining which, I shall follow,\nfirst, that very old description of Pythagoras, and afterward that of\nPlato; for they both divide the mind into two parts, and make one of\nthese partake of reason, and the other they represent without it. In\nthat which partakes of reason they place tranquillity, that is to say,\na placid and undisturbed constancy; to the other they assign the turbid\nmotions of anger and desire, which are contrary and opposite to reason.\nLet this, then, be our principle, the spring of all our reasonings. But\nnotwithstanding, I shall use the partitions and definitions of the\nStoics in describing these perturbations; who seem to me to have shown\nvery great acuteness on this question.\n\nVI. Zeno's definition, then, is this: \"A perturbation\" (which he calls\na [Greek: pathos]) \"is a commotion of the mind repugnant to reason, and\nagainst nature.\" Some of them define it even more briefly, saying that\na perturbation is a somewhat too vehement appetite; but by too vehement\nthey mean an appetite that recedes further from the constancy of\nnature. But they would have the divisions of perturbations to arise\nfrom two imagined goods, and from two imagined evils; and thus they\nbecome four: from the good proceed lust and joy--joy having reference\nto some present good, and lust to some future one. They suppose fear\nand grief to proceed from evils: fear from something future, grief from\nsomething present; for whatever things are dreaded as approaching\nalways occasion grief when present. But joy and lust depend on the\nopinion of good; as lust, being inflamed and provoked, is carried on\neagerly towards what has the appearance of good; and joy is transported\nand exults on obtaining what was desired: for we naturally pursue those\nthings that have the appearance of good, and avoid the contrary.\nWherefore, as soon as anything that has the appearance of good presents\nitself, nature incites us to endeavor to obtain it. Now, where this\nstrong desire is consistent and founded on prudence, it is by the\nStoics called [Greek: boulesis], and the name which we give it is\nvolition; and this they allow to none but their wise man, and define it\nthus: Volition is a reasonable desire; but whatever is incited too\nviolently in opposition to reason, that is a lust, or an unbridled\ndesire, which is discoverable in all fools. And, therefore, when we are\naffected so as to be placed in any good condition, we are moved in two\nways; for when the mind is moved in a placid and calm motion,\nconsistent with reason, that is called joy; but when it exults with a\nvain, wanton exultation, or immoderate joy, then that feeling may be\ncalled immoderate ecstasy or transport, which they define to be an\nelation of the mind without reason. And as we naturally desire good\nthings, so in like manner we naturally seek to avoid what is evil; and\nthis avoidance of which, if conducted in accordance with reason, is\ncalled caution; and this the wise man alone is supposed to have: but\nthat caution which is not under the guidance of reason, but is attended\nwith a base and low dejection, is called fear. Fear is, therefore,\ncaution destitute of reason. But a wise man is not affected by any\npresent evil; while the grief of a fool proceeds from being affected\nwith an imaginary evil, by which his mind is contracted and sunk, since\nit is not under the dominion of reason. This, then, is the first\ndefinition, which makes grief to consist in a shrinking of the mind\ncontrary to the dictates of reason. Thus, there are four perturbations,\nand but three calm rational emotions; for grief has no exact opposite.\n\nVII. But they insist upon it that all perturbations depend on opinion\nand judgment; therefore they define them more strictly, in order not\nonly the better to show how blamable they are, but to discover how much\nthey are in our power. Grief, then, is a recent opinion of some present\nevil, in which it seems to be right that the mind should shrink and be\ndejected. Joy is a recent opinion of a present good, in which it seems\nto be right that the mind should be elated. Fear is an opinion of an\nimpending evil which we apprehend will be intolerable. Lust is an\nopinion of a good to come, which would be of advantage were it already\ncome, and present with us. But however I have named the judgments and\nopinions of perturbations, their meaning is, not that merely the\nperturbations consist in them, but that the effects likewise of these\nperturbations do so; as grief occasions a kind of painful pricking, and\nfear engenders a recoil or sudden abandonment of the mind, joy gives\nrise to a profuse mirth, while lust is the parent of an unbridled habit\nof coveting. But that imagination, which I have included in all the\nabove definitions, they would have to consist in assenting without\nwarrantable grounds. Now, every perturbation has many subordinate parts\nannexed to it of the same kind. Grief is attended with enviousness\n(_invidentia_)--I use that word for instruction's sake, though it is\nnot so common; because envy (_invidia_) takes in not only the person\nwho envies, but the person, too, who is envied--emulation, detraction,\npity, vexation, mourning, sadness, tribulation, sorrow, lamentation,\nsolicitude, disquiet of mind, pain, despair, and many other similar\nfeelings are so too. Under fear are comprehended sloth, shame, terror,\ncowardice, fainting, confusion, astonishment. In pleasure they\ncomprehend malevolence--that is, pleased at another's\nmisfortune--delight, boastfulness, and the like. To lust they associate\nanger, fury, hatred, enmity, discord, wants, desire, and other feelings\nof that kind.\n\nBut they define these in this manner:\n\nVIII. Enviousness (_invidentia_), they say, is a grief arising from the\nprosperous circumstances of another, which are in no degree injurious\nto the person who envies; for where any one grieves at the prosperity\nof another, by which he is injured, such a one is not properly said to\nenvy--as when Agamemnon grieves at Hector's success; but where any one,\nwho is in no way hurt by the prosperity of another, is in pain at his\nsuccess, such a one envies indeed. Now the name \"emulation\" is taken in\na double sense, so that the same word may stand for praise and\ndispraise: for the imitation of virtue is called emulation (however,\nthat sense of it I shall have no occasion for here, for that carries\npraise with it); but emulation is also a term applied to grief at\nanother's enjoying what I desired to have, and am without. Detraction\n(and I mean by that, jealousy) is a grief even at another's enjoying\nwhat I had a great inclination for. Pity is a grief at the misery of\nanother who suffers wrongfully; for no one is moved by pity at the\npunishment of a parricide or of a betrayer of his country. Vexation is\na pressing grief. Mourning is a grief at the bitter death of one who\nwas dear to you. Sadness is a grief attended with tears. Tribulation is\na painful grief. Sorrow, an excruciating grief. Lamentation, a grief\nwhere we loudly bewail ourselves. Solicitude, a pensive grief. Trouble,\na continued grief. Affliction, a grief that harasses the body. Despair,\na grief that excludes all hope of better things to come. But those\nfeelings which are included under fear, they define thus: There is\nsloth, which is a dread of some ensuing labor; shame and terror, which\naffect the body--hence blushing attends shame; a paleness, and tremor,\nand chattering of the teeth attend terror--cowardice, which is an\napprehension of some approaching evil; dread, a fear that unhinges the\nmind, whence comes that line of Ennius,\n\n    Then dread discharged all wisdom from my mind;\n\nfainting is the associate and constant attendant on dread; confusion, a\nfear that drives away all thought; alarm, a continued fear.\n\nIX. The different species into which they divide pleasure come under\nthis description; so that malevolence is a pleasure in the misfortunes\nof another, without any advantage to yourself; delight, a pleasure that\nsoothes the mind by agreeable impressions on the ear. What is said of\nthe ear may be applied to the sight, to the touch, smell, and taste.\nAll feelings of this kind are a sort of melting pleasure that dissolves\nthe mind. Boastfulness is a pleasure that consists in making an\nappearance, and setting off yourself with insolence.--The subordinate\nspecies of lust they define in this manner: Anger is a lust of\npunishing any one who, as we imagine, has injured us without cause.\nHeat is anger just forming and beginning to exist, which the Greeks\ncall [Greek: thymosis]. Hatred is a settled anger. Enmity is anger\nwaiting for an opportunity of revenge. Discord is a sharper anger\nconceived deeply in the mind and heart. Want an insatiable lust. Regret\nis when one eagerly wishes to see a person who is absent. Now here they\nhave a distinction; so that with them regret is a lust conceived on\nhearing of certain things reported of some one, or of many, which the\nGreeks call [Greek: kategoremata], or predicaments; as that they are in\npossession of riches and honors: but want is a lust for those very\nhonors and riches. But these definers make intemperance the fountain of\nall these perturbations; which is an absolute revolt from the mind and\nright reason--a state so averse to all rules of reason that the\nappetites of the mind can by no means be governed and restrained. As,\ntherefore, temperance appeases these desires, making them obey right\nreason, and maintains the well-weighed judgments of the mind, so\nintemperance, which is in opposition to this, inflames, confounds, and\nputs every state of the mind into a violent motion. Thus, grief and\nfear, and every other perturbation of the mind, have their rise from\nintemperance.\n\nX. Just as distempers and sickness are bred in the body from the\ncorruption of the blood, and the too great abundance of phlegm and\nbile, so the mind is deprived of its health, and disordered with\nsickness, from a confusion of depraved opinions that are in opposition\nto one another. From these perturbations arise, first, diseases, which\nthey call [Greek: nosemata]; and also those feelings which are in\nopposition to these diseases, and which admit certain faulty distastes\nor loathings; then come sicknesses, which are called [Greek:\narrhostemata] by the Stoics, and these two have their opposite\naversions. Here the Stoics, especially Chrysippus, give themselves\nunnecessary trouble to show the analogy which the diseases of the mind\nhave to those of the body: but, overlooking all that they say as of\nlittle consequence, I shall treat only of the thing itself. Let us,\nthen, understand perturbation to imply a restlessness from the variety\nand confusion of contradictory opinions; and that when this heat and\ndisturbance of the mind is of any standing, and has taken up its\nresidence, as it were, in the veins and marrow, then commence diseases\nand sickness, and those aversions which are in opposition to these\ndiseases and sicknesses.\n\nXI. What I say here may be distinguished in thought, though they are in\nfact the same; inasmuch as they both have their rise from lust and joy.\nFor should money be the object of our desire, and should we not\ninstantly apply to reason, as if it were a kind of Socratic medicine to\nheal this desire, the evil glides into our veins, and cleaves to our\nbowels, and from thence proceeds a distemper or sickness, which, when\nit is of any continuance, is incurable, and the name of this disease is\ncovetousness. It is the same with other diseases; as the desire of\nglory, a passion for women, to which the Greeks give the name of\n[Greek: philogyneia]: and thus all other diseases and sicknesses are\ngenerated. But those feelings which are the contrary of these are\nsupposed to have fear for their foundation, as a hatred of women, such\nas is displayed in the Woman-hater of Atilius; or the hatred of the\nwhole human species, as Timon is reported to have done, whom they call\nthe Misanthrope. Of the same kind is inhospitality. And all these\ndiseases proceed from a certain dread of such things as they hate and\navoid. But they define sickness of mind to be an overweening opinion,\nand that fixed and deeply implanted in the heart, of something as very\ndesirable which is by no means so. What proceeds from aversion, they\ndefine thus: a vehement idea of something to be avoided, deeply\nimplanted, and inherent in our minds, when there is no reason for\navoiding it; and this kind of opinion is a deliberate belief that one\nunderstands things of which one is wholly ignorant. Now, sickness of\nthe mind has all these subordinate divisions: avarice, ambition,\nfondness for women, obstinacy, gluttony, drunkenness, covetousness, and\nother similar vices. But avarice is a violent opinion about money, as\nif it were vehemently to be desired and sought after, which opinion is\ndeeply implanted and inherent in our minds; and the definition of all\nthe other similar feelings resembles these. But the definitions of\naversions are of this sort: inhospitality is a vehement opinion, deeply\nimplanted and inherent in your mind, that you should avoid a stranger.\nThus, too, the hatred of women, like that felt by Hippolytus, is\ndefined; and the hatred of the human species like that displayed by\nTimon.\n\nXII. But to come to the analogy of the state of body and mind, which I\nshall sometimes make use of, though more sparingly than the Stoics.\nSome men are more inclined to particular disorders than others; and,\ntherefore, we say that some people are rheumatic, others dropsical, not\nbecause they are so at present, but because they are often so: some are\ninclined to fear, others to some other perturbation. Thus in some there\nis a continual anxiety, owing to which they are anxious; in some a\nhastiness of temper, which differs from anger, as anxiety differs from\nanguish: for all are not anxious who are sometimes vexed, nor are they\nwho are anxious always uneasy in that manner: as there is a difference\nbetween being drunk and drunkenness; and it is one thing to be a lover,\nanother to be given to women. And this disposition of particular people\nto particular disorders is very common: for it relates to all\nperturbations; it appears in many vices, though it has no name. Some\nare, therefore, said to be envious, malevolent, spiteful, fearful,\npitiful, from a propensity to those perturbations, not from their being\nalways carried away by them. Now this propensity to these particular\ndisorders may be called a sickness from analogy with the body; meaning,\nthat is to say, nothing more than a propensity towards sickness. But\nwith regard to whatever is good, as some are more inclined to different\ngood qualities than others, we may call this a facility or tendency:\nthis tendency to evil is a proclivity or inclination to falling; but\nwhere anything is neither good nor bad, it may have the former name.\n\nXIII. Even as there may be, with respect to the body, a disease, a\nsickness, and a defect, so it is with the mind. They call that a\ndisease where the whole body is corrupted; they call that sickness\nwhere a disease is attended with a weakness, and that a defect where\nthe parts of the body are not well compacted together; from whence it\nfollows that the members are misshapen, crooked, and deformed. So that\nthese two, a disease and sickness, proceed from a violent concussion\nand perturbation of the health of the whole body; but a defect\ndiscovers itself even when the body is in perfect health. But a disease\nof the mind is distinguishable only in thought from a sickness. But a\nviciousness is a habit or affection discordant and inconsistent with\nitself through life. Thus it happens that, in the one case, a disease\nand sickness may arise from a corruption of opinions; in the other\ncase, the consequence may be inconstancy and inconsistency. For every\nvice of the mind does not imply a disunion of parts; as is the case\nwith those who are not far from being wise men. With them there is that\naffection which is inconsistent with itself while it is foolish; but it\nis not distorted, nor depraved. But diseases and sicknesses are parts\nof viciousness; but it is a question whether perturbations are parts of\nthe same, for vices are permanent affections: perturbations are such as\nare restless; so that they cannot be parts of permanent ones. As there\nis some analogy between the nature of the body and mind in evil, so is\nthere in good; for the distinctions of the body are beauty, strength,\nhealth, firmness, quickness of motion: the same may be said of the\nmind. The body is said to be in a good state when all those things on\nwhich health depends are consistent: the same may be said of the mind\nwhen its judgments and opinions are not at variance with one another.\nAnd this union is the virtue of the mind, which, according to some\npeople, is temperance itself; others make it consist in an obedience to\nthe precepts of temperance, and a compliance with them, not allowing it\nto be any distinct species of itself. But, be it one or the other, it\nis to be found only in a wise man. But there is a certain soundness of\nmind, which even a fool may have, when the perturbation of his mind is\nremoved by the care and management of his physicians. And as what is\ncalled beauty arises from an exact proportion of the limbs, together\nwith a certain sweetness of complexion, so the beauty of the mind\nconsists in an equality and constancy of opinions and judgments, joined\nto a certain firmness and stability, pursuing virtue, or containing\nwithin itself the very essence of virtue. Besides, we give the very\nsame names to the faculties of the mind as we do to the powers of the\nbody, the nerves, and other powers of action. Thus the velocity of the\nbody is called swiftness: a praise which we ascribe to the mind, from\nits running over in its thoughts so many things in so short a time.\n\nXIV. Herein, indeed, the mind and body are unlike: that though the mind\nwhen in perfect health may be visited by sickness, as the body may, yet\nthe body may be disordered without our fault; the mind cannot. For all\nthe disorders and perturbations of the mind proceed from a neglect of\nreason; these disorders, therefore, are confined to men: the beasts are\nnot subject to such perturbations, though they act sometimes as if they\nhad reason. There is a difference, too, between ingenious and dull men;\nthe ingenious, like the Corinthian brass, which is long before it\nreceives rust, are longer before they fall into these perturbations,\nand are recovered sooner: the case is different with the dull. Nor does\nthe mind of an ingenious man fall into every kind of perturbation, for\nit never yields to any that are brutish and savage; and some of their\nperturbations have at first even the appearance of humanity, as mercy,\ngrief, and fear. But the sicknesses and diseases of the mind are\nthought to be harder to eradicate than those leading vices which are in\nopposition to virtues; for vices may be removed, though the diseases of\nthe mind should continue, which diseases are not cured with that\nexpedition with which vices are removed. I have now acquainted you with\nthe arguments which the Stoics put forth with such exactness; which\nthey call logic, from their close arguing: and since my discourse has\ngot clear of these rocks, I will proceed with the remainder of it,\nprovided I have been sufficiently clear in what I have already said,\nconsidering the obscurity of the subject I have treated.\n\n_A._ Clear enough; but should there be occasion for a more exact\ninquiry, I shall take another opportunity of asking you. I expect you\nnow to hoist your sails, as you just now called them, and proceed on\nyour course.\n\nXV. _M._ Since I have spoken before of virtue in other places, and\nshall often have occasion to speak again (for a great many questions\nthat relate to life and manners arise from the spring of virtue); and\nsince, as I say, virtue consists in a settled and uniform affection of\nmind, making those persons praiseworthy who are possessed of her, she\nherself also, independent of anything else, without regard to any\nadvantage, must be praiseworthy; for from her proceed good\ninclinations, opinions, actions, and the whole of right reason; though\nvirtue may be defined in a few words to be right reason itself. The\nopposite to this is viciousness (for so I choose to translate what the\nGreeks call [Greek: kakia], rather than by perverseness; for\nperverseness is the name of a particular vice; but viciousness includes\nall), from whence arise those perturbations which, as I just now said,\nare turbid and violent motions of the mind, repugnant to reason, and\nenemies in a high degree to the peace of the mind and a tranquil life,\nfor they introduce piercing and anxious cares, and afflict and\ndebilitate the mind through fear; they violently inflame our hearts\nwith exaggerated appetite, which is in reality an impotence of mind,\nutterly irreconcilable with temperance and moderation, which we\nsometimes call desire, and sometimes lust, and which, should it even\nattain the object of its wishes, immediately becomes so elated that it\nloses all its resolution, and knows not what to pursue; so that he was\nin the right who said \"that exaggerated pleasure was the very greatest\nof mistakes.\" Virtue, then, alone can effect the cure of these evils.\n\nXVI. For what is not only more miserable, but more base and sordid,\nthan a man afflicted, weakened, and oppressed with grief? And little\nshort of this misery is one who dreads some approaching evil, and who,\nthrough faintheartedness, is under continual suspense. The poets, to\nexpress the greatness of this evil, imagine a stone to hang over the\nhead of Tantalus, as a punishment for his wickedness, his pride, and\nhis boasting. And this is the common punishment of folly; for there\nhangs over the head of every one whose mind revolts from reason some\nsimilar fear. And as these perturbations of the mind, grief and fear,\nare of a most wasting nature, so those two others, though of a more\nmerry cast (I mean lust, which is always coveting something with\neagerness, and empty mirth, which is an exulting joy), differ very\nlittle from madness. Hence you may understand what sort of person he is\nwhom we call at one time moderate, at another modest or temperate, at\nanother constant and virtuous; while sometimes we include all these\nnames in the word frugality, as the crown of all; for if that word did\nnot include all virtues, it would never have been proverbial to say\nthat a frugal man does everything rightly. But when the Stoics apply\nthis saying to their wise man, they seem to exalt him too much, and to\nspeak of him with too much admiration.\n\nXVII. Whoever, then, through moderation and constancy, is at rest in\nhis mind, and in calm possession of himself, so as neither to pine with\ncare, nor be dejected with fear, nor to be inflamed with desire,\ncoveting something greedily, nor relaxed by extravagant mirth--such a\nman is that identical wise man whom we are inquiring for: he is the\nhappy man, to whom nothing in this life seems intolerable enough to\ndepress him; nothing exquisite enough to transport him unduly. For what\nis there in this life that can appear great to him who has acquainted\nhimself with eternity and the utmost extent of the universe? For what\nis there in human knowledge, or the short span of this life, that can\nappear great to a wise man? whose mind is always so upon its guard that\nnothing can befall him which is unforeseen, nothing which is\nunexpected, nothing, in short, which is new. Such a man takes so exact\na survey on all sides of him, that he always knows the proper place and\nspot to live in free from all the troubles and annoyances of life, and\nencounters every accident that fortune can bring upon him with a\nbecoming calmness. Whoever conducts himself in this manner will be free\nfrom grief, and from every other perturbation; and a mind free from\nthese feelings renders men completely happy; whereas a mind disordered\nand drawn off from right and unerring reason loses at once, not only\nits resolution, but its health.--Therefore the thoughts and\ndeclarations of the Peripatetics are soft and effeminate, for they say\nthat the mind must necessarily be agitated, but at the same time they\nlay down certain bounds beyond which that agitation is not to proceed.\nAnd do you set bounds to vice? or is it no vice to disobey reason? Does\nnot reason sufficiently declare that there is no real good which you\nshould desire too ardently, or the possession of which you should allow\nto transport you? and that there is no evil that should be able to\noverwhelm you, or the suspicion of which should distract you? and that\nall these things assume too melancholy or too cheerful an appearance\nthrough our own error? But if fools find this error lessened by time,\nso that, though the cause remains the same, they are not affected, in\nthe same manner, after some time, as they were at first, why, surely a\nwise man ought not to be influenced at all by it. But what are those\ndegrees by which we are to limit it? Let us fix these degrees in grief,\na difficult subject, and one much canvassed.--Fannius writes that P.\nRutilius took it much to heart that his brother was refused the\nconsulship; but he seems to have been too much affected by this\ndisappointment, for it was the occasion of his death: he ought,\ntherefore, to have borne it with more moderation. But let us suppose\nthat while he was bearing this with moderation, the death of his\nchildren had intervened; here would have started a fresh grief, which,\nadmitting it to be moderate in itself, yet still must have been a great\naddition to the other. Now, to these let us add some acute pains of\nbody, the loss of his fortune, blindness, banishment. Supposing, then,\neach separate misfortune to occasion a separate additional grief, the\nwhole would be too great to be supportable.\n\nXVIII. The man who attempts to set bounds to vice acts like one who\nshould throw himself headlong from Leucate, persuaded that he could\nstop himself whenever he pleased. Now, as that is impossible, so a\nperturbed and disordered mind cannot restrain itself, and stop where it\npleases. Certainly whatever is bad in its increase is bad in its birth.\nNow grief and all other perturbations are doubtless baneful in their\nprogress, and have, therefore, no small share of evil at the beginning;\nfor they go on of themselves when once they depart from reason, for\nevery weakness is self-indulgent, and indiscreetly launches out, and\ndoes not know where to stop. So that it makes no difference whether you\napprove of moderate perturbations of mind, or of moderate injustice,\nmoderate cowardice, and moderate intemperance; for whoever prescribes\nbounds to vice admits a part of it, which, as it is odious of itself,\nbecomes the more so as it stands on slippery ground, and, being once\nset forward, glides on headlong, and cannot by any means be stopped.\n\nXIX. Why should I say more? Why should I add that the Peripatetics say\nthat these perturbations, which we insist upon it should be extirpated,\nare not only natural, but were given to men by nature for a good\npurpose? They usually talk in this manner. In the first place, they say\nmuch in praise of anger; they call it the whetstone of courage, and\nthey say that angry men exert themselves most against an enemy or\nagainst a bad citizen: that those reasons are of little weight which\nare the motives of men who think thus, as--it is a just war; it becomes\nus to fight for our laws, our liberties, our country: they will allow\nno force to these arguments unless our courage is warmed by anger.--Nor\ndo they confine their argument to warriors; but their opinion is that\nno one can issue any rigid commands without some bitterness and anger.\nIn short, they have no notion of an orator either accusing or even\ndefending a client without he is spurred on by anger. And though this\nanger should not be real, still they think his words and gestures ought\nto wear the appearance of it, so that the action of the orator may\nexcite the anger of his hearer. And they deny that any man has ever\nbeen seen who does not know what it is to be angry; and they name what\nwe call lenity by the bad appellation of indolence. Nor do they commend\nonly this lust (for anger is, as I defined it above, the lust of\nrevenge), but they maintain that kind of lust or desire to be given us\nby nature for very good purposes, saying that no one can execute\nanything well but what he is in earnest about. Themistocles used to\nwalk in the public places in the night because he could not sleep; and\nwhen asked the reason, his answer was, that Miltiades's trophies kept\nhim awake. Who has not heard how Demosthenes used to watch, who said\nthat it gave him pain if any mechanic was up in a morning at his work\nbefore him? Lastly, they urge that some of the greatest philosophers\nwould never have made that progress in their studies without some\nardent desire spurring them on.--We are informed that Pythagoras,\nDemocritus, and Plato visited the remotest parts of the world; for they\nthought that they ought to go wherever anything was to be learned. Now,\nit is not conceivable that these things could be effected by anything\nbut by the greatest ardor of mind.\n\nXX. They say that even grief, which we have already said ought to be\navoided as a monstrous and fierce beast, was appointed by nature, not\nwithout some good purpose, in order that men should lament when they\nhad committed a fault, well knowing they had exposed themselves to\ncorrection, rebuke, and ignominy; for they think that those who can\nbear ignominy and infamy without pain have acquired a complete impunity\nfor all sorts of crimes; for with them reproach is a stronger check\nthan conscience. From whence we have that scene in Afranius borrowed\nfrom common life; for when the abandoned son saith, \"Wretched that I\nam!\" the severe father replies,\n\n    Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.\n\nAnd they say the other divisions of sorrow have their use; that pity\nincites us to hasten to the assistance of others, and to alleviate the\ncalamities of men who have undeservedly fallen into them; that even\nenvy and detraction are not without their use, as when a man sees that\nanother person has attained what he cannot, or observes another to be\nequally successful with himself; that he who should take away fear\nwould take away all industry in life, which those men exert in the\ngreatest degree who are afraid of the laws and of the magistrates, who\ndread poverty, ignominy, death, and pain. But while they argue thus,\nthey allow indeed of these feelings being retrenched, though they deny\nthat they either can or should be plucked up by the roots; so that\ntheir opinion is that mediocrity is best in everything. When they\nreason in this manner, what think you--is what they say worth attending\nto or not?\n\n_A._ I think it is. I wait, therefore, to hear what you will say in\nreply to them.\n\nXXI. _M._ Perhaps I may find something to say; but I will make this\nobservation first: do you take notice with what modesty the Academics\nbehave themselves? for they speak plainly to the purpose. The\nPeripatetics are answered by the Stoics; they have my leave to fight it\nout, who think myself no otherwise concerned than to inquire for what\nmay seem to be most probable. Our present business is, then, to see if\nwe can meet with anything in this question which is the probable, for\nbeyond such approximation to truth as that human nature cannot proceed.\nThe definition of a perturbation, as Zeno, I think, has rightly\ndetermined it, is thus: That a perturbation is a commotion of the mind\nagainst nature, in opposition to right reason; or, more briefly, thus,\nthat a perturbation is a somewhat too vehement appetite; and when he\nsays somewhat too vehement, he means such as is at a greater distance\nfrom the constant course of nature. What can I say to these\ndefinitions? The greater part of them we have from those who dispute\nwith sagacity and acuteness: some of them expressions, indeed, such as\nthe \"ardors of the mind,\" and \"the whetstones of virtue,\" savoring of\nthe pomp of rhetoricians. As to the question, if a brave man can\nmaintain his courage without becoming angry, it may be questioned with\nregard to the gladiators; though we often observe much resolution even\nin them: they meet, converse, they make objections and demands, they\nagree about terms, so that they seem calm rather than angry. But let us\nadmit a man of the name of Placideianus, who was one of that trade, to\nbe in such a mind, as Lucilius relates of him,\n\n    If for his blood you thirst, the task be mine;\n    His laurels at my feet he shall resign;\n    Not but I know, before I reach his heart,\n    First on myself a wound he will impart.\n    I hate the man; enraged I fight, and straight\n    In action we had been, but that I wait\n    Till each his sword had fitted to his hand.\n    My rage I scarce can keep within command.\n\nXXII. But we see Ajax in Homer advancing to meet Hector in battle\ncheerfully, without any of this boisterous wrath. For he had no sooner\ntaken up his arms than the first step which he made inspired his\nassociates with joy, his enemies with fear; so that even Hector, as he\nis represented by Homer,[49] trembling, condemned himself for having\nchallenged him to fight. Yet these heroes conversed together, calmly\nand quietly, before they engaged; nor did they show any anger or\noutrageous behavior during the combat. Nor do I imagine that Torquatus,\nthe first who obtained this surname, was in a rage when he plundered\nthe Gaul of his collar; or that Marcellus's courage at Clastidium was\nonly owing to his anger. I could almost swear that Africanus, with whom\nwe are better acquainted, from our recollection of him being more\nrecent, was noways inflamed by anger when he covered Alienus Pelignus\nwith his shield, and drove his sword into the enemy's breast. There may\nbe some doubt of L. Brutus, whether he was not influenced by\nextraordinary hatred of the tyrant, so as to attack Aruns with more\nthan usual rashness; for I observe that they mutually killed each other\nin close fight. Why, then, do you call in the assistance of anger?\nWould courage, unless it began to get furious, lose its energy? What!\ndo you imagine that Hercules, whom the very courage which you would try\nto represent as anger raised to heaven, was angry when he engaged the\nErymanthian boar, or the Nemaean lion? Or was Theseus in a passion when\nhe seized on the horns of the Marathonian bull? Take care how you make\ncourage to depend in the least on rage. For anger is altogether\nirrational, and that is not courage which is void of reason.\n\nXXIII. We ought to hold all things here in contempt; death is to be\nlooked on with indifference; pains and labors must be considered as\neasily supportable. And when these sentiments are established on\njudgment and conviction, then will that stout and firm courage take\nplace; unless you attribute to anger whatever is done with vehemence,\nalacrity, and spirit. To me, indeed, that very Scipio[50] who was chief\npriest, that favorer of the saying of the Stoics, \"That no private man\ncould be a wise man,\" does not seem to be angry with Tiberius Gracchus,\neven when he left the consul in a hesitating frame of mind, and, though\na private man himself, commanded, with the authority of a consul, that\nall who meant well to the republic should follow him. I do not know\nwhether I have done anything in the republic that has the appearance of\ncourage; but if I have, I certainly did not do it in wrath. Doth\nanything come nearer madness than anger? And indeed Ennius has well\ndefined it as the beginning of madness. The changing color, the\nalteration of our voice, the look of our eyes, our manner of fetching\nour breath, the little command we have over our words and actions, how\nlittle do all these things indicate a sound mind! What can make a worse\nappearance than Homer's Achilles, or Agamemnon, during the quarrel? And\nas to Ajax, anger drove him into downright madness, and was the\noccasion of his death. Courage, therefore, does not want the assistance\nof anger; it is sufficiently provided, armed, and prepared of itself.\nWe may as well say that drunkenness or madness is of service to\ncourage, because those who are mad or drunk often do a great many\nthings with unusual vehemence. Ajax was always brave; but still he was\nmost brave when he was in that state of frenzy:\n\n    The greatest feat that Ajax e'er achieved\n    Was, when his single arm the Greeks relieved.\n    Quitting the field; urged on by rising rage,\n    Forced the declining troops again t'engage.\n\nShall we say, then, that madness has its use?\n\nXXIV. Examine the definitions of courage: you will find it does not\nrequire the assistance of passion. Courage is, then, an affection of\nmind that endures all things, being itself in proper subjection to the\nhighest of all laws; or it may be called a firm maintenance of judgment\nin supporting or repelling everything that has a formidable appearance,\nor a knowledge of what is formidable or otherwise, and maintaining\ninvariably a stable judgment of all such things, so as to bear them or\ndespise them; or, in fewer words, according to Chrysippus (for the\nabove definitions are Sphaerus's, a man of the first ability as a\nlayer-down of definitions, as the Stoics think. But they are all pretty\nmuch alike: they give us only common notions, some one way, and some\nanother). But what is Chrysippus's definition? Fortitude, says he, is\nthe knowledge of all things that are bearable, or an affection of the\nmind which bears and supports everything in obedience to the chief law\nof reason without fear. Now, though we should attack these men in the\nsame manner as Carneades used to do, I fear they are the only real\nphilosophers; for which of these definitions is there which does not\nexplain that obscure and intricate notion of courage which every man\nconceives within himself? And when it is thus explained, what can a\nwarrior, a commander, or an orator want more? And no one can think that\nthey will be unable to behave themselves courageously without anger.\nWhat! do not even the Stoics, who maintain that all fools are mad, make\nthe same inferences? for, take away perturbations, especially a\nhastiness of temper, and they will appear to talk very absurdly. But\nwhat they assert is this: they say that all fools are mad, as all\ndunghills stink; not that they always do so, but stir them, and you\nwill perceive it. And in like manner, a warm-tempered man is not always\nin a passion; but provoke him, and you will see him run mad. Now, that\nvery warlike anger, which is of such service in war, what is the use of\nit to him when he is at home with his wife, children, and family? Is\nthere, then, anything that a disturbed mind can do better than one\nwhich is calm and steady? Or can any one be angry without a\nperturbation of mind? Our people, then, were in the right, who, as all\nvices depend on our manners, and nothing is worse than a passionate\ndisposition, called angry men the only morose men.[51]\n\nXXV. Anger is in no wise becoming in an orator, though it is not amiss\nto affect it. Do you imagine that I am angry when in pleading I use any\nextraordinary vehemence and sharpness? What! when I write out my\nspeeches after all is over and past, am I then angry while writing? Or\ndo you think AEsopus was ever angry when he acted, or Accius was so when\nhe wrote? Those men, indeed, act very well, but the orator acts better\nthan the player, provided he be really an orator; but, then, they carry\nit on without passion, and with a composed mind. But what wantonness is\nit to commend lust! You produce Themistocles and Demosthenes; to these\nyou add Pythagoras, Democritus, and Plato. What! do you then call\nstudies lust? But these studies of the most excellent and admirable\nthings, such as those were which you bring forward on all occasions,\nought to be composed and tranquil; and what kind of philosophers are\nthey who commend grief, than which nothing is more detestable? Afranius\nhas said much to this purpose:\n\n    Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.\n\nBut he spoke this of a debauched and dissolute youth. But we are\ninquiring into the conduct of a constant and wise man. We may even\nallow a centurion or standard-bearer to be angry, or any others, whom,\nnot to explain too far the mysteries of the rhetoricians, I shall not\nmention here; for to touch the passions, where reason cannot be come\nat, may have its use; but my inquiry, as I often repeat, is about a\nwise man.\n\nXXVI. But even envy, detraction, pity, have their use. Why should you\npity rather than assist, if it is in your power to do so? Is it because\nyou cannot be liberal without pity? We should not take sorrows on\nourselves upon another's account; but we ought to relieve others of\ntheir grief if we can. But to detract from another's reputation, or to\nrival him with that vicious emulation which resembles an enmity, of\nwhat use can that conduct be? Now, envy implies being uneasy at\nanother's good because one does not enjoy it one's self; but detraction\nis the being uneasy at another's good, merely because he enjoys it. How\ncan it be right that you should voluntarily grieve, rather than take\nthe trouble of acquiring what you want to have? for it is madness in\nthe highest degree to desire to be the only one that has any particular\nhappiness. But who can with correctness speak in praise of a mediocrity\nof evils? Can any one in whom there is lust or desire be otherwise than\nlibidinous or desirous? or can a man who is occupied by anger avoid\nbeing angry? or can one who is exposed to any vexation escape being\nvexed? or if he is under the influence of fear, must he not be fearful?\nDo we look, then, on the libidinous, the angry, the anxious, and the\ntimid man, as persons of wisdom, of excellence? of which I could speak\nvery copiously and diffusely, but I wish to be as concise as possible.\nAnd so I will merely say that wisdom is an acquaintance with all divine\nand human affairs, and a knowledge of the cause of everything. Hence it\nis that it imitates what is divine, and looks upon all human concerns\nas inferior to virtue. Did you, then, say that it was your opinion that\nsuch a man was as naturally liable to perturbation as the sea is\nexposed to winds? What is there that can discompose such gravity and\nconstancy? Anything sudden or unforeseen? How can anything of this kind\nbefall one to whom nothing is sudden and unforeseen that can happen to\nman? Now, as to their saying that redundancies should be pared off, and\nonly what is natural remain, what, I pray you, can be natural which may\nbe too exuberant?\n\nXXVII. All these assertions proceed from the roots of errors, which\nmust be entirely plucked up and destroyed, not pared and amputated. But\nas I suspect that your inquiry is not so much respecting the wise man\nas concerning yourself (for you allow that he is free from all\nperturbations, and you would willingly be so too yourself), let us see\nwhat remedies there are which may be applied by philosophy to the\ndiseases of the mind. There is certainly some remedy; nor has nature\nbeen so unkind to the human race as to have discovered so many things\nsalutary to the body, and none which are medicinal to the mind. She has\neven been kinder to the mind than to the body; inasmuch as you must\nseek abroad for the assistance which the body requires, while the mind\nhas all that it requires within itself. But in proportion as the\nexcellency of the mind is of a higher and more divine nature, the more\ndiligence does it require; and therefore reason, when it is well\napplied, discovers what is best, but when it is neglected, it becomes\ninvolved in many errors. I shall apply, then, all my discourse to you;\nfor though you pretend to be inquiring about the wise man, your inquiry\nmay possibly be about yourself. Various, then, are the cures of those\nperturbations which I have expounded, for every disorder is not to be\nappeased the same way. One medicine must be applied to the man who\nmourns, another to the pitiful, another to the person who envies; for\nthere is this difference to be maintained in all the four\nperturbations: we are to consider whether our discourse had better be\ndirected to perturbations in general, which are a contempt of reason,\nor a somewhat too vehement appetite; or whether it would be better\napplied to particular descriptions, as, for instance, to fear, lust,\nand the rest, and whether it appears preferable to endeavor to remove\nthat which has occasioned the grief, or rather to attempt wholly to\neradicate every kind of grief. As, should any one grieve that he is\npoor, the question is, Would you maintain poverty to be no evil, or\nwould you contend that a man ought not to grieve at anything? Certainly\nthis last is the best course; for should you not convince him with\nregard to poverty, you must allow him to grieve; but if you remove\ngrief by particular arguments, such as I used yesterday, the evil of\npoverty is in some manner removed.\n\nXXVIII. But any perturbation of the mind of this sort may be, as it\nwere, wiped away by the method of appeasing the mind, if you succeed in\nshowing that there is no good in that which has given rise to joy and\nlust, nor any evil in that which has occasioned fear or grief. But\ncertainly the most effectual cure is to be achieved by showing that all\nperturbations are of themselves vicious, and have nothing natural or\nnecessary in them. As we see, grief itself is easily softened when we\ncharge those who grieve with weakness and an effeminate mind; or when\nwe commend the gravity and constancy of those who bear calmly whatever\nbefalls them here, as accidents to which all men are liable; and,\nindeed, this is generally the feeling of those who look on these as\nreal evils, but yet think they should be borne with resignation. One\nimagines pleasure to be a good, another money; and yet the one may be\ncalled off from intemperance, the other from covetousness. The other\nmethod and address, which, at the same time that it removes the false\nopinion, withdraws the disorder, has more subtlety in it; but it seldom\nsucceeds, and is not applicable to vulgar minds, for there are some\ndiseases which that medicine can by no means remove. For, should any\none be uneasy because he is without virtue, without courage, destitute\nof a sense of duty or honesty, his anxiety proceeds from a real evil;\nand yet we must apply another method of cure to him, and such a one as\nall the philosophers, however they may differ about other things, agree\nin. For they must necessarily agree in this, that commotions of the\nmind in opposition to right reason are vicious; and that even admitting\nthose things to be evils which occasion fear or grief, and those to be\ngoods which provoke desire or joy, yet that very commotion itself is\nvicious; for we mean by the expressions magnanimous and brave, one who\nis resolute, sedate, grave, and superior to everything in this life;\nbut one who either grieves, or fears, or covets, or is transported with\npassion, cannot come under that denomination; for these things are\nconsistent only with those who look on the things of this world as\nthings with which their minds are unequal to contend.\n\nXXIX. Wherefore, as I before said, the philosophers have all one method\nof cure, so that we need say nothing about what sort of thing that is\nwhich disturbs the mind, but we must speak only concerning the\nperturbation itself. Thus, first, with regard to desire itself, when\nthe business is only to remove that, the inquiry is not to be, whether\nthat thing be good or evil which provokes lust, but the lust itself is\nto be removed; so that whether whatever is honest is the chief good, or\nwhether it consists in pleasure, or in both these things together, or\nin the other three kinds of goods, yet should there be in any one too\nvehement an appetite for even virtue itself, the whole discourse should\nbe directed to the deterring him from that vehemence. But human nature,\nwhen placed in a conspicuous point of view, gives us every argument for\nappeasing the mind, and, to make this the more distinct, the laws and\nconditions of life should be explained in our discourse. Therefore, it\nwas not without reason that Socrates is reported, when Euripides was\nexhibiting his play called Orestes, to have repeated the first three\nverses of that tragedy--\n\n    What tragic story men can mournful tell,\n    Whate'er from fate or from the gods befell,\n    That human nature can support--[52]\n\nBut, in order to persuade those to whom any misfortune has happened\nthat they can and ought to bear it, it is very useful to set before\nthem an enumeration of other persons who have borne similar calamities.\nIndeed, the method of appeasing grief was explained in my dispute of\nyesterday, and in my book on Consolation, which I wrote in the midst of\nmy own grief; for I was not myself so wise a man as to be insensible to\ngrief, and I used this, notwithstanding Chrysippus's advice to the\ncontrary, who is against applying a medicine to the agitations of the\nmind while they are fresh; but I did it, and committed a violence on\nnature, that the greatness of my grief might give way to the greatness\nof the medicine.\n\nXXX. But fear borders upon grief, of which I have already said enough;\nbut I must say a little more on that. Now, as grief proceeds from what\nis present, so does fear from future evil; so that some have said that\nfear is a certain part of grief: others have called fear the harbinger\nof trouble, which, as it were, introduces the ensuing evil. Now, the\nreasons that make what is present supportable, make what is to come\nvery contemptible; for, with regard to both, we should take care to do\nnothing low or grovelling, soft or effeminate, mean or abject. But,\nnotwithstanding we should speak of the inconstancy, imbecility, and\nlevity of fear itself, yet it is of very great service to speak\ncontemptuously of those very things of which we are afraid. So that it\nfell out very well, whether it was by accident or design, that I\ndisputed the first and second day on death and pain--the two things\nthat are the most dreaded: now, if what I then said was approved of, we\nare in a great degree freed from fear. And this is sufficient, as far\nas regards the opinion of evils.\n\nXXXI. Proceed we now to what are goods--that is to say, to joy and\ndesire. To me, indeed, one thing alone seems to embrace the question of\nall that relates to the perturbations of the mind--the fact, namely,\nthat all perturbations are in our own power; that they are taken up\nupon opinion, and are voluntary. This error, then, must be got rid of;\nthis opinion must be removed; and, as with regard to imagined evils, we\nare to make them more supportable, so with respect to goods, we are to\nlessen the violent effects of those things which are called great and\njoyous. But one thing is to be observed, that equally relates both to\ngood and evil: that, should it be difficult to persuade any one that\nnone of those things which disturb the mind are to be looked on as good\nor evil, yet a different cure is to be applied to different feelings;\nand the malevolent person is to be corrected by one way of reasoning,\nthe lover by another, the anxious man by another, and the fearful by\nanother: and it would be easy for any one who pursues the best approved\nmethod of reasoning, with regard to good and evil, to maintain that no\nfool can be affected with joy, as he never can have anything good. But,\nat present, my discourse proceeds upon the common received notions.\nLet, then, honors, riches, pleasures, and the rest be the very good\nthings which they are imagined to be; yet a too elevated and exulting\njoy on the possession of them is unbecoming; just as, though it might\nbe allowable to laugh, to giggle would be indecent. Thus, a mind\nenlarged by joy is as blamable as a contraction of it by grief; and\neager longing is a sign of as much levity in desiring as immoderate joy\nis in possessing; and, as those who are too dejected are said to be\neffeminate, so they who are too elated with joy are properly called\nvolatile; and as feeling envy is a part of grief, and the being pleased\nwith another's misfortune is a kind of joy, both these feelings are\nusually corrected by showing the wildness and insensibility of them:\nand as it becomes a man to be cautious, but it is unbecoming in him to\nbe fearful, so to be pleased is proper, but to be joyful improper. I\nhave, in order that I might be the better understood, distinguished\npleasure from joy. I have already said above, that a contraction of the\nmind can never be right, but that an elation of it may; for the joy of\nHector in Naevius is one thing--\n\n    'Tis joy indeed to hear my praises sung\n    By you, who are the theme of honor's tongue--\n\nbut that of the character in Trabea another: \"The kind procuress,\nallured by my money, will observe my nod, will watch my desires, and\nstudy my will. If I but move the door with my little finger, instantly\nit flies open; and if Chrysis should unexpectedly discover me, she will\nrun with joy to meet me, and throw herself into my arms.\"\n\nNow he will tell you how excellent he thinks this:\n\n    Not even fortune herself is so fortunate.\n\nXXXII. Any one who attends the least to the subject will be convinced\nhow unbecoming this joy is. And as they are very shameful who are\nimmoderately delighted with the enjoyment of venereal pleasures, so are\nthey very scandalous who lust vehemently after them. And all that which\nis commonly called love (and, believe me, I can find out no other name\nto call it by) is of such a trivial nature that nothing, I think, is to\nbe compared to it: of which Caecilius says,\n\n    I hold the man of every sense bereaved\n    Who grants not Love to be of Gods the chief:\n    Whose mighty power whate'er is good effects,\n    Who gives to each his beauty and defects:\n    Hence, health and sickness; wit and folly, hence,\n    The God that love and hatred doth dispense!\n\nAn excellent corrector of life this same poetry, which thinks that\nlove, the promoter of debauchery and vanity, should have a place in the\ncouncil of the Gods! I am speaking of comedy, which could not subsist\nat all without our approving of these debaucheries. But what said that\nchief of the Argonauts in tragedy?\n\n    My life I owe to honor less than love.\n\nWhat, then, are we to say of this love of Medea?--what a train of\nmiseries did it occasion! And yet the same woman has the assurance to\nsay to her father, in another poet, that she had a husband\n\n    Dearer by love than ever fathers were.\n\nXXXIII. However, we may allow the poets to trifle, in whose fables we\nsee Jupiter himself engaged in these debaucheries: but let us apply to\nthe masters of virtue--the philosophers who deny love to be anything\ncarnal; and in this they differ from Epicurus, who, I think, is not\nmuch mistaken. For what is that love of friendship? How comes it that\nno one is in love with a deformed young man, or a handsome old one? I\nam of opinion that this love of men had its rise from the Gymnastics of\nthe Greeks, where these kinds of loves are admissible and permitted;\ntherefore Ennius spoke well:\n\n    The censure of this crime to those is due\n    Who naked bodies first exposed to view.\n\nNow, supposing them chaste, which I think is hardly possible, they are\nuneasy and distressed, and the more so because they contain and refrain\nthemselves. But, to pass over the love of women, where nature has\nallowed more liberty, who can misunderstand the poets in their rape of\nGanymede, or not apprehend what Laius says, and what he desires, in\nEuripides? Lastly, what have the principal poets and the most learned\nmen published of themselves in their poems and songs? What doth Alcaeus,\nwho was distinguished in his own republic for his bravery, write on the\nlove of young men? And as for Anacreon's poetry, it is wholly on love.\nBut Ibycus of Rhegium appears, from his writings, to have had this love\nstronger on him than all the rest.\n\nXXXIV. Now we see that the loves of all these writers were entirely\nlibidinous. There have arisen also some among us philosophers (and\nPlato is at the head of them, whom Dicaearchus blames not without\nreason) who have countenanced love. The Stoics, in truth, say, not only\nthat their wise man may be a lover, but they even define love itself as\nan endeavor to originate friendship out of the appearance of beauty.\nNow, provided there is any one in the nature of things without desire,\nwithout care, without a sigh, such a one may be a lover; for he is free\nfrom all lust: but I have nothing to say to him, as it is lust of which\nI am now speaking. But should there be any love--as there certainly\nis--which is but little, or perhaps not at all, short of madness, such\nas his is in the Leucadia--\n\n    Should there be any God whose care I am--\n\nit is incumbent on all the Gods to see that he enjoys his amorous\npleasure.\n\n    Wretch that I am!\n\nNothing is more true, and he says very appropriately,\n\n    What, are you sane, who at this rate lament?\n\nHe seems even to his friends to be out of his senses: then how tragical\nhe becomes!\n\n    Thy aid, divine Apollo, I implore,\n    And thine, dread ruler of the wat'ry store!\n    Oh! all ye winds, assist me!\n\nHe thinks that the whole world ought to apply itself to help his love:\nhe excludes Venus alone, as unkind to him.\n\n    Thy aid, O Venus, why should I invoke?\n\nHe thinks Venus too much employed in her own lust to have regard to\nanything else, as if he himself had not said and committed these\nshameful things from lust.\n\nXXXV. Now, the cure for one who is affected in this manner is to show\nhow light, how contemptible, how very trifling he is in what he\ndesires; how he may turn his affections to another object, or\naccomplish his desires by some other means; or else to persuade him\nthat he may entirely disregard it: sometimes he is to be led away to\nobjects of another kind, to study, business, or other different\nengagements and concerns: very often the cure is effected by change of\nplace, as sick people, that have not recovered their strength, are\nbenefited by change of air. Some people think an old love may be driven\nout by a new one, as one nail drives out another: but, above all\nthings, the man thus afflicted should be advised what madness love is:\nfor of all the perturbations of the mind, there is not one which is\nmore vehement; for (without charging it with rapes, debaucheries,\nadultery, or even incest, the baseness of any of these being very\nblamable; not, I say, to mention these) the very perturbation of the\nmind in love is base of itself, for, to pass over all its acts of\ndownright madness, what weakness do not those very things which are\nlooked upon as indifferent argue?\n\n    Affronts and jealousies, jars, squabbles, wars,\n    Then peace again. The man who seeks to fix\n    These restless feelings, and to subjugate\n    Them to some regular law, is just as wise\n    As one who'd try to lay down rules by which\n    Men should go mad.[53]\n\nNow, is not this inconstancy and mutability of mind enough to deter any\none by its own deformity? We are to demonstrate, as was said of every\nperturbation, that there are no such feelings which do not consist\nentirely of opinion and judgment, and are not owing to ourselves. For\nif love were natural, all would be in love, and always so, and all love\nthe same object; nor would one be deterred by shame, another by\nreflection, another by satiety.\n\nXXXVI. Anger, too, when it disturbs the mind any time, leaves no room\nto doubt its being madness: by the instigation of which we see such\ncontention as this between brothers:\n\n    Where was there ever impudence like thine?\n    Who on thy malice ever could refine?[54]\n\nYou know what follows: for abuses are thrown out by these brothers with\ngreat bitterness in every other verse; so that you may easily know them\nfor the sons of Atreus, of that Atreus who invented a new punishment\nfor his brother:\n\n    I who his cruel heart to gall am bent,\n    Some new, unheard-of torment must invent.\n\nNow, what were these inventions? Hear Thyestes:\n\n    My impious brother fain would have me eat\n    My children, and thus serves them up for meat.\n\nTo what length now will not anger go? even as far as madness. Therefore\nwe say, properly enough, that angry men have given up their power, that\nis, they are out of the power of advice, reason, and understanding; for\nthese ought to have power over the whole mind. Now, you should put\nthose out of the way whom they endeavor to attack till they have\nrecollected themselves; but what does recollection here imply but\ngetting together again the dispersed parts of their mind into their\nproper place? or else you must beg and entreat them, if they have the\nmeans of revenge, to defer it to another opportunity, till their anger\ncools. But the expression of cooling implies, certainly, that there was\na heat raised in their minds in opposition to reason; from which\nconsideration that saying of Archytas is commended, who being somewhat\nprovoked at his steward, \"How would I have treated you,\" said he, \"if I\nhad not been in a passion?\"\n\nXXXVII. Where, then, are they who say that anger has its use? Can\nmadness be of any use? But still it is natural. Can anything be natural\nthat is against reason? or how is it, if anger is natural, that one\nperson is more inclined to anger than another? or that the lust of\nrevenge should cease before it has revenged itself? or that any one\nshould repent of what he had done in a passion? as we see that\nAlexander the king did, who could scarcely keep his hands from himself,\nwhen he had killed his favorite Clytus, so great was his compunction.\nNow who that is acquainted with these instances can doubt that this\nmotion of the mind is altogether in opinion and voluntary? for who can\ndoubt that disorders of the mind, such as covetousness and a desire of\nglory, arise from a great estimation of those things by which the mind\nis disordered? from whence we may understand that every perturbation of\nthe mind is founded in opinion. And if boldness--that is to say, a firm\nassurance of mind--is a kind of knowledge and serious opinion not\nhastily taken up, then diffidence is a fear of an expected and\nimpending evil; and if hope is an expectation of good, fear must, of\ncourse, be an expectation of evil. Thus fear and other perturbations\nare evils. Therefore, as constancy proceeds from knowledge, so does\nperturbation from error. Now, they who are said to be naturally\ninclined to anger, or to pity, or to envy, or to any feeling of this\nkind, their minds are constitutionally, as it were, in bad health; yet\nthey are curable, as the disposition of Socrates is said to have been;\nfor when Zopyrus, who professed to know the character of every one from\nhis person, had heaped a great many vices on him in a public assembly,\nhe was laughed at by others, who could perceive no such vices in\nSocrates; but Socrates kept him in countenance by declaring that such\nvices were natural to him, but that he had got the better of them by\nhis reason. Therefore, as any one who has the appearance of the best\nconstitution may yet appear to be naturally rather inclined to some\nparticular disorder, so different minds may be more particularly\ninclined to different diseases. But as to those men who are said to be\nvicious, not by nature, but their own fault, their vices proceed from\nwrong opinions of good and bad things, so that one is more prone than\nanother to different motions and perturbations. But, just as it is in\nthe case of the body, an inveterate disease is harder to be got rid of\nthan a sudden disorder; and it is more easy to cure a fresh tumor in\nthe eyes than to remove a defluxion of any continuance.\n\nXXXVIII. But as the cause of perturbations is now discovered, for all\nof them arise from the judgment or opinion, or volition, I shall put an\nend to this discourse. But we ought to be assured, since the boundaries\nof good and evil are now discovered, as far as they are discoverable by\nman, that nothing can be desired of philosophy greater or more useful\nthan the discussions which we have held these four days. For besides\ninstilling a contempt of death, and relieving pain so as to enable men\nto bear it, we have added the appeasing of grief, than which there is\nno greater evil to man. For though every perturbation of mind is\ngrievous, and differs but little from madness, yet we are used to say\nof others when they are under any perturbation, as of fear, joy, or\ndesire, that they are agitated and disturbed; but of those who give\nthemselves up to grief, that they are miserable, afflicted, wretched,\nunhappy. So that it doth not seem to be by accident, but with reason\nproposed by you, that I should discuss grief, and the other\nperturbations separately; for there lies the spring and head of all our\nmiseries; but the cure of grief, and of other disorders, is one and the\nsame in that they are all voluntary, and founded on opinion; we take\nthem on ourselves because it seems right so to do. Philosophy\nundertakes to eradicate this error, as the root of all our evils: let\nus therefore surrender ourselves to be instructed by it, and suffer\nourselves to be cured; for while these evils have possession of us, we\nnot only cannot be happy, but cannot be right in our minds. We must\neither deny that reason can effect anything, while, on the other hand,\nnothing can be done right without reason, or else, since philosophy\ndepends on the deductions of reason, we must seek from her, if we would\nbe good or happy, every help and assistance for living well and\nhappily.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V.\n\nWHETHER VIRTUE ALONE BE SUFFICIENT FOR A HAPPY LIFE.\n\n\nI. This fifth day, Brutus, shall put an end to our Tusculan\nDisputations: on which day we discussed your favorite subject. For I\nperceive from that book which you wrote for me with the greatest\naccuracy, as well as from your frequent conversation, that you are\nclearly of this opinion, that virtue is of itself sufficient for a\nhappy life: and though it may be difficult to prove this, on account of\nthe many various strokes of fortune, yet it is a truth of such a nature\nthat we should endeavor to facilitate the proof of it. For among all\nthe topics of philosophy, there is not one of more dignity or\nimportance. For as the first philosophers must have had some inducement\nto neglect everything for the search of the best state of life: surely,\nthe inducement must have been the hope of living happily, which\nimpelled them to devote so much care and pains to that study. Now, if\nvirtue was discovered and carried to perfection by them, and if virtue\nis a sufficient security for a happy life, who can avoid thinking the\nwork of philosophizing excellently recommended by them, and undertaken\nby me? But if virtue, as being subject to such various and uncertain\naccidents, were but the slave of fortune, and were not of sufficient\nability to support herself, I am afraid that it would seem desirable\nrather to offer up prayers, than to rely on our own confidence in\nvirtue as the foundation for our hope of a happy life. And, indeed,\nwhen I reflect on those troubles with which I have been so severely\nexercised by fortune, I begin to distrust this opinion; and sometimes\neven to dread the weakness and frailty of human nature, for I am afraid\nlest, when nature had given us infirm bodies, and had joined to them\nincurable diseases and intolerable pains, she perhaps also gave us\nminds participating in these bodily pains, and harassed also with\ntroubles and uneasinesses, peculiarly their own. But here I correct\nmyself for forming my judgment of the power of virtue more from the\nweakness of others, or of myself perhaps, than from virtue itself: for\nshe herself (provided there is such a thing as virtue; and your uncle\nBrutus has removed all doubt of it) has everything that can befall\nmankind in subjection to her; and by disregarding such things, she is\nfar removed from being at all concerned at human accidents; and, being\nfree from every imperfection, she thinks that nothing which is external\nto herself can concern her. But we, who increase every approaching evil\nby our fear, and every present one by our grief, choose rather to\ncondemn the nature of things than our own errors.\n\nII. But the amendment of this fault, and of all our other vices and\noffences, is to be sought for in philosophy: and as my own inclination\nand desire led me, from my earliest youth upward, to seek her\nprotection, so, under my present misfortunes, I have had recourse to\nthe same port from whence I set out, after having been tossed by a\nviolent tempest. O Philosophy, thou guide of life! thou discoverer of\nvirtue and expeller of vices! what had not only I myself, but the whole\nlife of man, been without you? To you it is that we owe the origin of\ncities; you it was who called together the dispersed race of men into\nsocial life; you united them together, first, by placing them near one\nanother, then by marriages, and lastly, by the communication of speech\nand languages. You have been the inventress of laws; you have been our\ninstructress in morals and discipline; to you we fly for refuge; from\nyou we implore assistance; and as I formerly submitted to you in a\ngreat degree, so now I surrender up myself entirely to you. For one day\nspent well, and agreeably to your precepts, is preferable to an\neternity of error. Whose assistance, then, can be of more service to me\nthan yours, when you have bestowed on us tranquillity of life, and\nremoved the fear of death? But Philosophy is so far from being praised\nas much as she has deserved by mankind, that she is wholly neglected by\nmost men, and actually evil spoken of by many. Can any person speak ill\nof the parent of life, and dare to pollute himself thus with parricide,\nand be so impiously ungrateful as to accuse her whom he ought to\nreverence, even were he less able to appreciate the advantages which he\nmight derive from her? But this error, I imagine, and this darkness has\nspread itself over the minds of ignorant men, from their not being able\nto look so far back, and from their not imagining that those men by\nwhom human life was first improved were philosophers; for though we see\nphilosophy to have been of long standing, yet the name must be\nacknowledged to be but modern.\n\nIII. But, indeed, who can dispute the antiquity of philosophy, either\nin fact or name? For it acquired this excellent name from the ancients,\nby the knowledge of the origin and causes of everything, both divine\nand human. Thus those seven [Greek: Sophoi], as they were considered\nand called by the Greeks, have always been esteemed and called wise men\nby us; and thus Lycurgus many ages before, in whose time, before the\nbuilding of this city, Homer is said to have lived, as well as Ulysses\nand Nestor in the heroic ages, are all handed down to us by tradition\nas having really been what they were called, wise men; nor would it\nhave been said that Atlas supported the heavens, or that Prometheus was\nbound to Caucasus, nor would Cepheus, with his wife, his son-in-law,\nand his daughter have been enrolled among the constellations, but that\ntheir more than human knowledge of the heavenly bodies had transferred\ntheir names into an erroneous fable. From whence all who occupied\nthemselves in the contemplation of nature were both considered and\ncalled wise men; and that name of theirs continued to the age of\nPythagoras, who is reported to have gone to Phlius, as we find it\nstated by Heraclides Ponticus, a very learned man, and a pupil of\nPlato, and to have discoursed very learnedly and copiously on certain\nsubjects with Leon, prince of the Phliasii; and when Leon, admiring his\ningenuity and eloquence, asked him what art he particularly professed,\nhis answer was, that he was acquainted with no art, but that he was a\nphilosopher. Leon, surprised at the novelty of the name, inquired what\nhe meant by the name of philosopher, and in what philosophers differed\nfrom other men; on which Pythagoras replied, \"That the life of man\nseemed to him to resemble those games which were celebrated with the\ngreatest possible variety of sports and the general concourse of all\nGreece. For as in those games there were some persons whose object was\nglory and the honor of a crown, to be attained by the performance of\nbodily exercises, so others were led thither by the gain of buying and\nselling, and mere views of profit; but there was likewise one class of\npersons, and they were by far the best, whose aim was neither applause\nnor profit, but who came merely as spectators through curiosity, to\nobserve what was done, and to see in what manner things were carried on\nthere. And thus, said he, we come from another life and nature unto\nthis one, just as men come out of some other city, to some much\nfrequented mart; some being slaves to glory, others to money; and there\nare some few who, taking no account of anything else, earnestly look\ninto the nature of things; and these men call themselves studious of\nwisdom, that is, philosophers: and as there it is the most reputable\noccupation of all to be a looker-on without making any acquisition, so\nin life, the contemplating things, and acquainting one's self with\nthem, greatly exceeds every other pursuit of life.\"\n\nIV. Nor was Pythagoras the inventor only of the name, but he enlarged\nalso the thing itself, and, when he came into Italy after this\nconversation at Phlius, he adorned that Greece, which is called Great\nGreece, both privately and publicly, with the most excellent\ninstitutions and arts; but of his school and system I shall, perhaps,\nfind another opportunity to speak. But numbers and motions, and the\nbeginning and end of all things, were the subjects of the ancient\nphilosophy down to Socrates, who was a pupil of Archelaus, who had been\nthe disciple of Anaxagoras. These made diligent inquiry into the\nmagnitude of the stars, their distances, courses, and all that relates\nto the heavens. But Socrates was the first who brought down philosophy\nfrom the heavens, placed it in cities, introduced it into families, and\nobliged it to examine into life and morals, and good and evil. And his\ndifferent methods of discussing questions, together with the variety of\nhis topics, and the greatness of his abilities, being immortalized by\nthe memory and writings of Plato, gave rise to many sects of\nphilosophers of different sentiments, of all which I have principally\nadhered to that one which, in my opinion, Socrates himself followed;\nand argue so as to conceal my own opinion, while I deliver others from\ntheir errors, and so discover what has the greatest appearance of\nprobability in every question. And the custom Carneades adopted with\ngreat copiousness and acuteness, and I myself have often given in to it\non many occasions elsewhere, and in this manner, too, I disputed\nlately, in my Tusculan villa; indeed, I have sent you a book of the\nfour former days' discussions; but the fifth day, when we had seated\nourselves as before, what we were to dispute on was proposed thus:\n\nV. _A._ I do not think virtue can possibly be sufficient for a happy\nlife.\n\n_M._ But my friend Brutus thinks so, whose judgment, with submission, I\ngreatly prefer to yours.\n\n_A._ I make no doubt of it; but your regard for him is not the business\nnow: the question is now, what is the real character of that quality of\nwhich I have declared my opinion. I wish you to dispute on that.\n\n_M._ What! do you deny that virtue can possibly be sufficient for a\nhappy life?\n\n_A._ It is what I entirely deny.\n\n_M._ What! is not virtue sufficient to enable us to live as we ought,\nhonestly, commendably, or, in fine, to live well?\n\n_A._ Certainly sufficient.\n\n_M._ Can you, then, help calling any one miserable who lives ill? or\nwill you deny that any one who you allow lives well must inevitably\nlive happily?\n\n_A._ Why may I not? for a man may be upright in his life, honest,\npraiseworthy, even in the midst of torments, and therefore live well.\nProvided you understand what I mean by well; for when I say well, I\nmean with constancy, and dignity, and wisdom, and courage; for a man\nmay display all these qualities on the rack; but yet the rack is\ninconsistent with a happy life.\n\n_M._ What, then? is your happy life left on the outside of the prison,\nwhile constancy, dignity, wisdom, and the other virtues, are\nsurrendered up to the executioner, and bear punishment and pain without\nreluctance?\n\n_A._ You must look out for something new if you would do any good.\nThese things have very little effect on me, not merely from their being\ncommon, but principally because, like certain light wines that will not\nbear water, these arguments of the Stoics are pleasanter to taste than\nto swallow. As when that assemblage of virtues is committed to the\nrack, it raises so reverend a spectacle before our eyes that happiness\nseems to hasten on towards them, and not to suffer them to be deserted\nby her. But when you take your attention off from this picture and\nthese images of the virtues to the truth and the reality, what remains\nwithout disguise is, the question whether any one can be happy in\ntorment? Wherefore let us now examine that point, and not be under any\napprehensions, lest the virtues should expostulate, and complain that\nthey are forsaken by happiness. For if prudence is connected with every\nvirtue, then prudence itself discovers this, that all good men are not\ntherefore happy; and she recollects many things of Marcus Atilius[55],\nQuintus Caepio[56], Marcus Aquilius[57]; and prudence herself, if these\nrepresentations are more agreeable to you than the things themselves,\nrestrains happiness when it is endeavoring to throw itself into\ntorments, and denies that it has any connection with pain and torture.\n\nVI. _M._ I can easily bear with your behaving in this manner, though it\nis not fair in you to prescribe to me how you would have me carry on\nthis discussion. But I ask you if I have effected anything or nothing\nin the preceding days?\n\n_A._ Yes; something was done, some little matter indeed.\n\n_M._ But if that is the case, this question is settled, and almost put\nan end to.\n\n_A._ How so?\n\n_M._ Because turbulent motions and violent agitations of the mind, when\nit is raised and elated by a rash impulse, getting the better of\nreason, leave no room for a happy life. For who that fears either pain\nor death, the one of which is always present, the other always\nimpending, can be otherwise than miserable? Now, supposing the same\nperson--which is often the case--to be afraid of poverty, ignominy,\ninfamy, or weakness, or blindness, or, lastly, slavery, which doth not\nonly befall individual men, but often even the most powerful nations;\nnow can any one under the apprehension of these evils be happy? What\nshall we say of him who not only dreads these evils as impending, but\nactually feels and bears them at present? Let us unite in the same\nperson banishment, mourning, the loss of children; now, how can any one\nwho is broken down and rendered sick in body and mind by such\naffliction be otherwise than very miserable indeed? What reason, again,\ncan there be why a man should not rightly enough be called miserable\nwhom we see inflamed and raging with lust, coveting everything with an\ninsatiable desire, and, in proportion as he derives more pleasure from\nanything, thirsting the more violently after them? And as to a man\nvainly elated, exulting with an empty joy, and boasting of himself\nwithout reason, is not he so much the more miserable in proportion as\nhe thinks himself happier? Therefore, as these men are miserable, so,\non the other hand, those are happy who are alarmed by no fears, wasted\nby no griefs, provoked by no lusts, melted by no languid pleasures that\narise from vain and exulting joys. We look on the sea as calm when not\nthe least breath of air disturbs its waves; and, in like manner, the\nplacid and quiet state of the mind is discovered when unmoved by any\nperturbation. Now, if there be any one who holds the power of fortune,\nand everything human, everything that can possibly befall any man, as\nsupportable, so as to be out of the reach of fear or anxiety, and if\nsuch a man covets nothing, and is lifted up by no vain joy of mind,\nwhat can prevent his being happy? And if these are the effects of\nvirtue, why cannot virtue itself make men happy?\n\nVII. _A._ But the other of these two propositions is undeniable, that\nthey who are under no apprehensions, who are noways uneasy, who covet\nnothing, who are lifted up by no vain joy, are happy: and therefore I\ngrant you that. But as for the other, that is not now in a fit state\nfor discussion; for it has been proved by your former arguments that a\nwise man is free from every perturbation of mind.\n\n_M._ Doubtless, then, the dispute is over; for the question appears to\nhave been entirely exhausted.\n\n_A._ I think, indeed, that that is almost the case.\n\n_M._ But yet that is more usually the case with the mathematicians than\nphilosophers. For when the geometricians teach anything, if what they\nhave before taught relates to their present subject, they take that for\ngranted which has been already proved, and explain only what they had\nnot written on before. But the philosophers, whatever subject they have\nin hand, get together everything that relates to it, notwithstanding\nthey may have dilated on it somewhere else. Were not that the case, why\nshould the Stoics say so much on that question, Whether virtue was\nabundantly sufficient to a happy life? when it would have been answer\nenough that they had before taught that nothing was good but what was\nhonorable; for, as this had been proved, the consequence must be that\nvirtue was sufficient to a happy life; and each premise may be made to\nfollow from the admission of the other, so that if it be admitted that\nvirtue is sufficient to secure a happy life, it may also be inferred\nthat nothing is good except what is honorable. They, however, do not\nproceed in this manner; for they would separate books about what is\nhonorable, and what is the chief good; and when they have demonstrated\nfrom the one that virtue has power enough to make life happy, yet they\ntreat this point separately; for everything, and especially a subject\nof such great consequence, should be supported by arguments and\nexhortations which belong to that alone. For you should have a care how\nyou imagine philosophy to have uttered anything more noble, or that she\nhas promised anything more fruitful or of greater consequence, for,\ngood Gods! doth she not engage that she will render him who submits to\nher laws so accomplished as to be always armed against fortune, and to\nhave every assurance within himself of living well and happily--that he\nshall, in short, be forever happy? But let us see what she will\nperform? In the mean while, I look upon it as a great thing that she\nhas even made such a promise. For Xerxes, who was loaded with all the\nrewards and gifts of fortune, not satisfied with his armies of horse\nand foot, nor the multitude of his ships, nor his infinite treasure of\ngold, offered a reward to any one who could find out a new pleasure;\nand yet, when it was discovered, he was not satisfied with it; nor can\nthere ever be an end to lust. I wish we could engage any one by a\nreward to produce something the better to establish us in this belief.\n\nVIII. _A._ I wish that, indeed, myself; but I want a little\ninformation. For I allow that in what you have stated the one\nproposition is the consequence of the other; that as, if what is\nhonorable be the only good, it must follow that a happy life is the\neffect of virtue: so that if a happy life consists in virtue, nothing\ncan be good but virtue. But your friend Brutus, on the authority of\nAristo and Antiochus, does not see this; for he thinks the case would\nbe the same even if there were anything good besides virtue.\n\n_M._ What, then? do you imagine that I am going to argue against\nBrutus?\n\n_A._ You may do what you please; for it is not for me to prescribe what\nyou shall do.\n\n_M._ How these things agree together shall be examined somewhere else;\nfor I frequently discussed that point with Antiochus, and lately with\nAristo, when, during the period of my command as general, I was lodging\nwith him at Athens. For to me it seemed that no one could possibly be\nhappy under any evil; but a wise man might be afflicted with evil, if\nthere are any things arising from body or fortune deserving the name of\nevils. These things were said, which Antiochus has inserted in his\nbooks in many places--that virtue itself was sufficient to make life\nhappy, but yet not perfectly happy; and that many things derive their\nnames from the predominant portion of them, though they do not include\neverything, as strength, health, riches, honor, and glory: which\nqualities are determined by their kind, not their number. Thus a happy\nlife is so called from its being so in a great degree, even though it\nshould fall short in some point. To clear this up is not absolutely\nnecessary at present, though it seems to be said without any great\nconsistency; for I cannot imagine what is wanting to one that is happy\nto make him happier, for if anything be wanting to him, he cannot be so\nmuch as happy; and as to what they say, that everything is named and\nestimated from its predominant portion, that may be admitted in some\nthings. But when they allow three kinds of evils--when any one is\noppressed with every imaginable evil of two kinds, being afflicted with\nadverse fortune, and having at the same time his body worn out and\nharassed with all sorts of pains--shall we say that such a one is but\nlittle short of a happy life, to say nothing about the happiest\npossible life?\n\nIX. This is the point which Theophrastus was unable to maintain; for\nafter he had once laid down the position that stripes, torments,\ntortures, the ruin of one's country, banishment, the loss of children,\nhad great influence on men's living miserably and unhappily, he durst\nnot any longer use any high and lofty expressions when he was so low\nand abject in his opinion. How right he was is not the question; he\ncertainly was consistent. Therefore, I am not for objecting to\nconsequences where the premises are admitted. But this most elegant and\nlearned of all the philosophers is not taken to task very severely when\nhe asserts his three kinds of good; but he is attacked by every one for\nthat book which he wrote on a happy life, in which book he has many\narguments why one who is tortured and racked cannot be happy. For in\nthat book he is supposed to say that a man who is placed on the wheel\n(that is a kind of torture in use among the Greeks) cannot attain to a\ncompletely happy life. He nowhere, indeed, says so absolutely; but what\nhe says amounts to the same thing. Can I, then, find fault with him,\nafter having allowed that pains of the body are evils, that the ruin of\na man's fortunes is an evil, if he should say that every good man is\nnot happy, when all those things which he reckons as evils may befall a\ngood man? The same Theophrastus is found fault with by all the books\nand schools of the philosophers for commending that sentence in his\nCallisthenes,\n\n    Fortune, not wisdom, rules the life of man.\n\nThey say never did philosopher assert anything so languid. They are\nright, indeed, in that; but I do not apprehend anything could be more\nconsistent, for if there are so many good things that depend on the\nbody, and so many foreign to it that depend on chance and fortune, is\nit inconsistent to say that fortune, which governs everything, both\nwhat is foreign and what belongs to the body, has greater power than\ncounsel. Or would we rather imitate Epicurus? who is often excellent in\nmany things which he speaks, but quite indifferent how consistent he\nmay be, or how much to the purpose he is speaking. He commends spare\ndiet, and in that he speaks as a philosopher; but it is for Socrates or\nAntisthenes to say so, and not for one who confines all good to\npleasure. He denies that any one can live pleasantly unless he lives\nhonestly, wisely, and justly. Nothing is more dignified than this\nassertion, nothing more becoming a philosopher, had he not measured\nthis very expression of living honestly, justly, and wisely by\npleasure. What could be better than to assert that fortune interferes\nbut little with a wise man? But does he talk thus, who, after he has\nsaid that pain is the greatest evil, or the only evil, might himself be\nafflicted with the sharpest pains all over his body, even at the time\nhe is vaunting himself the most against fortune? And this very thing,\ntoo, Metrodorus has said, but in better language: \"I have anticipated\nyou, Fortune; I have caught you, and cut off every access, so that you\ncannot possibly reach me.\" This would be excellent in the mouth of\nAristo the Chian, or Zeno the Stoic, who held nothing to be an evil but\nwhat was base; but for you, Metrodorus, to anticipate the approaches of\nfortune, who confine all that is good to your bowels and marrow--for\nyou to say so, who define the chief good by a strong constitution of\nbody, and well-assured hope of its continuance--for you to cut off\nevery access of fortune! Why, you may instantly be deprived of that\ngood. Yet the simple are taken with these propositions, and a vast\ncrowd is led away by such sentences to become their followers.\n\nX. But it is the duty of one who would argue accurately to consider not\nwhat is said, but what is said consistently. As in that very opinion\nwhich we have adopted in this discussion, namely, that every good man\nis always happy, it is clear what I mean by good men: I call those both\nwise and good men who are provided and adorned with every virtue. Let\nus see, then, who are to be called happy. I imagine, indeed, that those\nmen are to be called so who are possessed of good without any alloy of\nevil; nor is there any other notion connected with the word that\nexpresses happiness but an absolute enjoyment of good without any evil.\nVirtue cannot attain this, if there is anything good besides itself.\nFor a crowd of evils would present themselves, if we were to allow\npoverty, obscurity, humility, solitude, the loss of friends, acute\npains of the body, the loss of health, weakness, blindness, the ruin of\none's country, banishment, slavery, to be evils; for a wise man may be\nafflicted by all these evils, numerous and important as they are, and\nmany others also may be added, for they are brought on by chance, which\nmay attack a wise man; but if these things are evils, who can maintain\nthat a wise man is always happy when all these evils may light on him\nat the same time? I therefore do not easily agree with my friend\nBrutus, nor with our common masters, nor those ancient ones, Aristotle,\nSpeusippus, Xenocrates, Polemon, who reckon all that I have mentioned\nabove as evils, and yet they say that a wise man is always happy; nor\ncan I allow them, because they are charmed with this beautiful and\nillustrious title, which would very well become Pythagoras, Socrates,\nand Plato, to persuade my mind that strength, health, beauty, riches,\nhonors, power, with the beauty of which they are ravished, are\ncontemptible, and that all those things which are the opposites of\nthese are not to be regarded. Then might they declare openly, with a\nloud voice, that neither the attacks of fortune, nor the opinion of the\nmultitude, nor pain, nor poverty, occasions them any apprehensions; and\nthat they have everything within themselves, and that there is nothing\nwhatever which they consider as good but what is within their own\npower. Nor can I by any means allow the same person who falls into the\nvulgar opinion of good and evil to make use of these expressions, which\ncan only become a great and exalted man. Struck with which glory, up\nstarts Epicurus, who, with submission to the Gods, thinks a wise man\nalways happy. He is much charmed with the dignity of this opinion, but\nhe never would have owned that, had he attended to himself; for what is\nthere more inconsistent than for one who could say that pain was the\ngreatest or the only evil to think also that a wise man can possibly\nsay in the midst of his torture, How sweet is this! We are not,\ntherefore, to form our judgment of philosophers from detached\nsentences, but from their consistency with themselves, and their\nordinary manner of talking.\n\nXI. _A._ You compel me to be of your opinion; but have a care that you\nare not inconsistent yourself.\n\n_M._ In what respect?\n\n_A._ Because I have lately read your fourth book on Good and Evil: and\nin that you appeared to me, while disputing against Cato, to be\nendeavoring to show, which in my opinion means to prove, that Zeno and\nthe Peripatetics differ only about some new words; but if we allow\nthat, what reason can there be, if it follows from the arguments of\nZeno that virtue contains all that is necessary to a happy life, that\nthe Peripatetics should not be at liberty to say the same? For, in my\nopinion, regard should be had to the thing, not to words.\n\n_M._ What! you would convict me from my own words, and bring against me\nwhat I had said or written elsewhere. You may act in that manner with\nthose who dispute by established rules. We live from hand to mouth, and\nsay anything that strikes our mind with probability, so that we are the\nonly people who are really at liberty. But, since I just now spoke of\nconsistency, I do not think the inquiry in this place is, if the\nopinion of Zeno and his pupil Aristo be true that nothing is good but\nwhat is honorable; but, admitting that, then, whether the whole of a\nhappy life can be rested on virtue alone. Wherefore, if we certainly\ngrant Brutus this, that a wise man is always happy, how consistent he\nis, is his own business; for who, indeed, is more worthy than himself\nof the glory of that opinion? Still, we may maintain that such a man is\nmore happy than any one else.\n\nXII. Though Zeno the Cittiaean, a stranger and an inconsiderable coiner\nof words, appears to have insinuated himself into the old philosophy;\nstill, the prevalence of this opinion is due to the authority of Plato,\nwho often makes use of this expression, \"That nothing but virtue can be\nentitled to the name of good,\" agreeably to what Socrates says in\nPlato's Gorgias; for it is there related that when some one asked him\nif he did not think Archelaus the son of Perdiccas, who was then looked\nupon as a most fortunate person, a very happy man, \"I do not know,\"\nreplied he, \"for I never conversed with him.\" \"What! is there no other\nway you can know it by?\" \"None at all.\" \"You cannot, then, pronounce of\nthe great king of the Persians whether he is happy or not?\" \"How can I,\nwhen I do not know how learned or how good a man he is?\" \"What! do you\nimagine that a happy life depends on that?\" \"My opinion entirely is,\nthat good men are happy, and the wicked miserable.\" \"Is Archelaus,\nthen, miserable?\" \"Certainly, if unjust.\" Now, does it not appear to\nyou that he is here placing the whole of a happy life in virtue alone?\nBut what does the same man say in his funeral oration? \"For,\" saith he,\n\"whoever has everything that relates to a happy life so entirely\ndependent on himself as not to be connected with the good or bad\nfortune of another, and not to be affected by, or made in any degree\nuncertain by, what befalls another; and whoever is such a one has\nacquired the best rule of living; he is that moderate, that brave, that\nwise man, who submits to the gain and loss of everything, and\nespecially of his children, and obeys that old precept; for he will\nnever be too joyful or too sad, because he depends entirely upon\nhimself.\"\n\nXIII. From Plato, therefore, all my discourse shall be deduced, as if\nfrom some sacred and hallowed fountain. Whence can I, then, more\nproperly begin than from Nature, the parent of all? For whatsoever she\nproduces (I am not speaking only of animals, but even of those things\nwhich have sprung from the earth in such a manner as to rest on their\nown roots) she designed it to be perfect in its respective kind. So\nthat among trees and vines, and those lower plants and trees which\ncannot advance themselves high above the earth, some are evergreen,\nothers are stripped of their leaves in winter, and, warmed by the\nspring season, put them out afresh, and there are none of them but what\nare so quickened by a certain interior motion, and their own seeds\nenclosed in every one, so as to yield flowers, fruit, or berries, that\nall may have every perfection that belongs to it; provided no violence\nprevents it. But the force of Nature itself may be more easily\ndiscovered in animals, as she has bestowed sense on them. For some\nanimals she has taught to swim, and designed to be inhabitants of the\nwater; others she has enabled to fly, and has willed that they should\nenjoy the boundless air; some others she has made to creep, others to\nwalk. Again, of these very animals, some are solitary, some gregarious,\nsome wild, others tame, some hidden and buried beneath the earth, and\nevery one of these maintains the law of nature, confining itself to\nwhat was bestowed on it, and unable to change its manner of life. And\nas every animal has from nature something that distinguishes it, which\nevery one maintains and never quits; so man has something far more\nexcellent, though everything is said to be excellent by comparison. But\nthe human mind, being derived from the divine reason, can be compared\nwith nothing but with the Deity itself, if I may be allowed the\nexpression. This, then, if it is improved, and when its perception is\nso preserved as not to be blinded by errors, becomes a perfect\nunderstanding, that is to say, absolute reason, which is the very same\nas virtue. And if everything is happy which wants nothing, and is\ncomplete and perfect in its kind, and that is the peculiar lot of\nvirtue, certainly all who are possessed of virtue are happy. And in\nthis I agree with Brutus, and also with Aristotle, Xenocrates,\nSpeusippus, Polemon.\n\nXIV. To me such are the only men who appear completely happy; for what\ncan he want to a complete happy life who relies on his own good\nqualities, or how can he be happy who does not rely on them? But he who\nmakes a threefold division of goods must necessarily be diffident, for\nhow can he depend on having a sound body, or that his fortune shall\ncontinue? But no one can be happy without an immovable, fixed, and\npermanent good. What, then, is this opinion of theirs? So that I think\nthat saying of the Spartan may be applied to them, who, on some\nmerchant's boasting before him that he had despatched ships to every\nmaritime coast, replied that a fortune which depended on ropes was not\nvery desirable. Can there be any doubt that whatever may be lost cannot\nbe properly classed in the number of those things which complete a\nhappy life? for of all that constitutes a happy life, nothing will\nadmit of withering, or growing old, or wearing out, or decaying; for\nwhoever is apprehensive of any loss of these things cannot be happy:\nthe happy man should be safe, well fenced, well fortified, out of the\nreach of all annoyance, not like a man under trifling apprehensions,\nbut free from all such. As he is not called innocent who but slightly\noffends, but he who offends not at all, so it is he alone who is to be\nconsidered without fear who is free from all fear, not he who is but in\nlittle fear. For what else is courage but an affection of mind that is\nready to undergo perils, and patient in the endurance of pain and labor\nwithout any alloy of fear? Now, this certainly could not be the case if\nthere were anything else good but what depended on honesty alone. But\nhow can any one be in possession of that desirable and much-coveted\nsecurity (for I now call a freedom from anxiety a security, on which\nfreedom a happy life depends) who has, or may have, a multitude of\nevils attending him? How can he be brave and undaunted, and hold\neverything as trifles which can befall a man? for so a wise man should\ndo, unless he be one who thinks that everything depends on himself.\nCould the Lacedaemonians without this, when Philip threatened to prevent\nall their attempts, have asked him if he could prevent their killing\nthemselves? Is it not easier, then, to find one man of such a spirit as\nwe are inquiring after, than to meet with a whole city of such men?\nNow, if to this courage I am speaking of we add temperance, that it may\ngovern all our feelings and agitations, what can be wanting to complete\nhis happiness who is secured by his courage from uneasiness and fear,\nand is prevented from immoderate desires and immoderate insolence of\njoy by temperance? I could easily show that virtue is able to produce\nthese effects, but that I have explained on the foregoing days.\n\nXV. But as the perturbations of the mind make life miserable, and\ntranquillity renders it happy; and as these perturbations are of two\nsorts, grief and fear, proceeding from imagined evils, and as\nimmoderate joy and lust arise from a mistake about what is good, and as\nall these feelings are in opposition to reason and counsel; when you\nsee a man at ease, quite free and disengaged from such troublesome\ncommotions, which are so much at variance with one another, can you\nhesitate to pronounce such a one a happy man? Now, the wise man is\nalways in such a disposition; therefore the wise man is always happy.\nBesides, every good is pleasant; whatever is pleasant may be boasted\nand talked of; whatever may be boasted of is glorious; but whatever is\nglorious is certainly laudable, and whatever is laudable doubtless,\nalso, honorable: whatever, then, is good is honorable (but the things\nwhich they reckon as goods they themselves do not call honorable);\ntherefore what is honorable alone is good. Hence it follows that a\nhappy life is comprised in honesty alone. Such things, then, are not to\nbe called or considered goods, when a man may enjoy an abundance of\nthem, and yet be most miserable. Is there any doubt but that a man who\nenjoys the best health, and who has strength and beauty, and his senses\nflourishing in their utmost quickness and perfection--suppose him\nlikewise, if you please, nimble and active, nay, give him riches,\nhonors, authority, power, glory--now, I say, should this person, who is\nin possession of all these, be unjust, intemperate, timid, stupid, or\nan idiot--could you hesitate to call such a one miserable? What, then,\nare those goods in the possession of which you may be very miserable?\nLet us see if a happy life is not made up of parts of the same nature,\nas a heap implies a quantity of grain of the same kind. And if this be\nonce admitted, happiness must be compounded of different good things,\nwhich alone are honorable; if there is any mixture of things of another\nsort with these, nothing honorable can proceed from such a composition:\nnow, take away honesty, and how can you imagine anything happy? For\nwhatever is good is desirable on that account; whatever is desirable\nmust certainly be approved of; whatever you approve of must be looked\non as acceptable and welcome. You must consequently impute dignity to\nthis; and if so, it must necessarily be laudable: therefore, everything\nthat is laudable is good. Hence it follows that what is honorable is\nthe only good. And should we not look upon it in this light, there will\nbe a great many things which we must call good.\n\nXVI. I forbear to mention riches, which, as any one, let him be ever so\nunworthy, may have them, I do not reckon among goods; for what is good\nis not attainable by all. I pass over notoriety and popular fame,\nraised by the united voice of knaves and fools. Even things which are\nabsolute nothings may be called goods; such as white teeth, handsome\neyes, a good complexion, and what was commended by Euryclea, when she\nwas washing Ulysses's feet, the softness of his skin and the mildness\nof his discourse. If you look on these as goods, what greater encomiums\ncan the gravity of a philosopher be entitled to than the wild opinion\nof the vulgar and the thoughtless crowd? The Stoics give the name of\nexcellent and choice to what the others call good: they call them so,\nindeed; but they do not allow them to complete a happy life. But these\nothers think that there is no life happy without them; or, admitting it\nto be happy, they deny it to be the most happy. But our opinion is,\nthat it is the most happy; and we prove it from that conclusion of\nSocrates. For thus that author of philosophy argued: that as the\ndisposition of a man's mind is, so is the man; such as the man is, such\nwill be his discourse; his actions will correspond with his discourse,\nand his life with his actions. But the disposition of a good man's mind\nis laudable; the life, therefore, of a good man is laudable; it is\nhonorable, therefore, because laudable; the unavoidable conclusion from\nwhich is that the life of good men is happy. For, good Gods! did I not\nmake it appear, by my former arguments--or was I only amusing myself\nand killing time in what I then said?--that the mind of a wise man was\nalways free from every hasty motion which I call a perturbation, and\nthat the most undisturbed peace always reigned in his breast? A man,\nthen, who is temperate and consistent, free from fear or grief, and\nuninfluenced by any immoderate joy or desire, cannot be otherwise than\nhappy; but a wise man is always so, therefore he is always happy.\nMoreover, how can a good man avoid referring all his actions and all\nhis feelings to the one standard of whether or not it is laudable? But\nhe does refer everything to the object of living happily: it follows,\nthen, that a happy life is laudable; but nothing is laudable without\nvirtue: a happy life, then, is the consequence of virtue. And this is\nthe unavoidable conclusion to be drawn from these arguments.\n\nXVII. A wicked life has nothing which we ought to speak of or glory in;\nnor has that life which is neither happy nor miserable. But there is a\nkind of life that admits of being spoken of, and gloried in, and\nboasted of, as Epaminondas saith,\n\n    The wings of Sparta's pride my counsels clipp'd.\n\nAnd Africanus boasts,\n\n    Who, from beyond Maeotis to the place\n    Where the sun rises, deeds like mine can trace?\n\nIf, then, there is such a thing as a happy life, it is to be gloried\nin, spoken of, and commended by the person who enjoys it; for there is\nnothing excepting that which can be spoken of or gloried in; and when\nthat is once admitted, you know what follows. Now, unless an honorable\nlife is a happy life, there must, of course, be something preferable to\na happy life; for that which is honorable all men will certainly grant\nto be preferable to anything else. And thus there will be something\nbetter than a happy life: but what can be more absurd than such an\nassertion? What! when they grant vice to be effectual to the rendering\nlife miserable, must they not admit that there is a corresponding power\nin virtue to make life happy? For contraries follow from contraries.\nAnd here I ask what weight they think there is in the balance of\nCritolaus, who having put the goods of the mind into one scale, and the\ngoods of the body and other external advantages into the other, thought\nthe goods of the mind outweighed the others so far that they would\nrequire the whole earth and sea to equalize the scale.\n\nXVIII. What hinders Critolaus, then, or that gravest of philosophers,\nXenocrates (who raises virtue so high, and who lessens and depreciates\neverything else), from not only placing a happy life, but the happiest\npossible life, in virtue? And, indeed, if this were not the case,\nvirtue would be absolutely lost. For whoever is subject to grief must\nnecessarily be subject to fear too, for fear is an uneasy apprehension\nof future grief; and whoever is subject to fear is liable to dread,\ntimidity, consternation, cowardice. Therefore, such a person may, some\ntime or other, be defeated, and not think himself concerned with that\nprecept of Atreus,\n\n    And let men so conduct themselves in life,\n    As to be always strangers to defeat.\n\nBut such a man, as I have said, will be defeated; and not only\ndefeated, but made a slave of. But we would have virtue always free,\nalways invincible; and were it not so, there would be an end of virtue.\nBut if virtue has in herself all that is necessary for a good life, she\nis certainly sufficient for happiness: virtue is certainly sufficient,\ntoo, for our living with courage; if with courage, then with a\nmagnanimous spirit, and indeed so as never to be under any fear, and\nthus to be always invincible. Hence it follows that there can be\nnothing to be repented of, no wants, no lets or hinderances. Thus all\nthings will be prosperous, perfect, and as you would have them, and,\nconsequently, happy; but virtue is sufficient for living with courage,\nand therefore virtue is able by herself to make life happy. For as\nfolly, even when possessed of what it desires, never thinks it has\nacquired enough, so wisdom is always satisfied with the present, and\nnever repents on her own account.\n\nXIX. Look but on the single consulship of Laelius, and that, too, after\nhaving been set aside (though when a wise and good man like him is\noutvoted, the people are disappointed of a good consul, rather than be\ndisappointed by a vain people); but the point is, would you prefer,\nwere it in your power, to be once such a consul as Laelius, or be\nelected four times, like Cinna? I have no doubt in the world what\nanswer you will make, and it is on that account I put the question to\nyou.\n\nI would not ask every one this question; for some one perhaps might\nanswer that he would not only prefer four consulates to one, but even\none day of Cinna's life to whole ages of many famous men. Laelius would\nhave suffered had he but touched any one with his finger; but Cinna\nordered the head of his colleague consul, Cn. Octavius, to be struck\noff; and put to death P. Crassus[58], and L. Caesar[59], those excellent\nmen, so renowned both at home and abroad; and even M. Antonius[60], the\ngreatest orator whom I ever heard; and C. Caesar, who seems to me to\nhave been the pattern of humanity, politeness, sweetness of temper, and\nwit. Could he, then, be happy who occasioned the death of these men? So\nfar from it, that he seems to be miserable, not only for having\nperformed these actions, but also for acting in such a manner that it\nwas lawful for him to do it, though it is unlawful for any one to do\nwicked actions; but this proceeds from inaccuracy, of speech, for we\ncall whatever a man is allowed to do lawful. Was not Marius happier, I\npray you, when he shared the glory of the victory gained over the\nCimbrians with his colleague Catulus (who was almost another Laelius;\nfor I look upon the two men as very like one another), than when,\nconqueror in the civil war, he in a passion answered the friends of\nCatulus, who were interceding for him, \"Let him die?\" And this answer\nhe gave, not once only, but often. But in such a case, he was happier\nwho submitted to that barbarous decree than he who issued it. And it is\nbetter to receive an injury than to do one; and so it was better to\nadvance a little to meet that death that was making its approaches, as\nCatulus did, than, like Marius, to sully the glory of six consulships,\nand disgrace his latter days, by the death of such a man.\n\nXX. Dionysius exercised his tyranny over the Syracusans thirty-eight\nyears, being but twenty-five years old when he seized on the\ngovernment. How beautiful and how wealthy a city did he oppress with\nslavery! And yet we have it from good authority that he was remarkably\ntemperate in his manner of living, that he was very active and\nenergetic in carrying on business, but naturally mischievous and\nunjust; from which description every one who diligently inquires into\ntruth must inevitably see that he was very miserable. Neither did he\nattain what he so greatly desired, even when he was persuaded that he\nhad unlimited power; for, notwithstanding he was of a good family and\nreputable parents (though that is contested by some authors), and had a\nvery large acquaintance of intimate friends and relations, and also\nsome youths attached to him by ties of love after the fashion of the\nGreeks, he could not trust any one of them, but committed the guard of\nhis person to slaves, whom he had selected from rich men's families and\nmade free, and to strangers and barbarians. And thus, through an unjust\ndesire of governing, he in a manner shut himself up in a prison.\nBesides, he would not trust his throat to a barber, but had his\ndaughters taught to shave; so that these royal virgins were forced to\ndescend to the base and slavish employment of shaving the head and\nbeard of their father. Nor would he trust even them, when they were\ngrown up, with a razor; but contrived how they might burn off the hair\nof his head and beard with red-hot nutshells. And as to his two wives,\nAristomache, his countrywoman, and Doris of Locris, he never visited\nthem at night before everything had been well searched and examined.\nAnd as he had surrounded the place where his bed was with a broad\nditch, and made a way over it with a wooden bridge, he drew that bridge\nover after shutting his bedchamber door. And as he did not dare to\nstand on the ordinary pulpits from which they usually harangued the\npeople, he generally addressed them from a high tower. And it is said\nthat when he was disposed to play at ball--for he delighted much in\nit--and had pulled off his clothes, he used to give his sword into the\nkeeping of a young man whom he was very fond of. On this, one of his\nintimates said pleasantly, \"You certainly trust your life with him;\"\nand as the young man happened to smile at this, he ordered them both to\nbe slain, the one for showing how he might be taken off, the other for\napproving of what had been said by smiling. But he was so concerned at\nwhat he had done that nothing affected him more during his whole life;\nfor he had slain one to whom he was extremely partial. Thus do weak\nmen's desires pull them different ways, and while they indulge one,\nthey act counter to another.\n\nXXI. This tyrant, however, showed himself how happy he really was; for\nonce, when Damocles, one of his flatterers, was dilating in\nconversation on his forces, his wealth, the greatness of his power, the\nplenty he enjoyed, the grandeur of his royal palaces, and maintaining\nthat no one was ever happier, \"Have you an inclination,\" said he,\n\"Damocles, as this kind of life pleases you, to have a taste of it\nyourself, and to make a trial of the good fortune that attends me?\" And\nwhen he said that he should like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him to\nbe laid on a bed of gold with the most beautiful covering, embroidered\nand wrought with the most exquisite work, and he dressed out a great\nmany sideboards with silver and embossed gold. He then ordered some\nyouths, distinguished for their handsome persons, to wait at his table,\nand to observe his nod, in order to serve him with what he wanted.\nThere were ointments and garlands; perfumes were burned; tables\nprovided with the most exquisite meats. Damocles thought himself very\nhappy. In the midst of this apparatus, Dionysius ordered a bright sword\nto be let down from the ceiling, suspended by a single horse-hair, so\nas to hang over the head of that happy man. After which he neither cast\nhis eye on those handsome waiters, nor on the well-wrought plate; nor\ntouched any of the provisions: presently the garlands fell to pieces.\nAt last he entreated the tyrant to give him leave to go, for that now\nhe had no desire to be happy[61]. Does not Dionysius, then, seem to\nhave declared there can be no happiness for one who is under constant\napprehensions? But it was not now in his power to return to justice,\nand restore his citizens their rights and privileges; for, by the\nindiscretion of youth, he had engaged in so many wrong steps and\ncommitted such extravagances, that, had he attempted to have returned\nto a right way of thinking, he must have endangered his life.\n\nXXII. Yet, how desirous he was of friendship, though at the same time\nhe dreaded the treachery of friends, appears from the story of those\ntwo Pythagoreans: one of these had been security for his friend, who\nwas condemned to die; the other, to release his security, presented\nhimself at the time appointed for his dying: \"I wish,\" said Dionysius,\"\nyou would admit me as the third in your friendship.\" What misery was it\nfor him to be deprived of acquaintance, of company at his table, and of\nthe freedom of conversation! especially for one who was a man of\nlearning, and from his childhood acquainted with liberal arts, very\nfond of music, and himself a tragic poet--how good a one is not to the\npurpose, for I know not how it is, but in this way, more than any\nother, every one thinks his own performances excellent. I never as yet\nknew any poet (and I was very intimate with Aquinius), who did not\nappear to himself to be very admirable. The case is this: you are\npleased with your own works; I like mine. But to return to Dionysius.\nHe debarred himself from all civil and polite conversation, and spent\nhis life among fugitives, bondmen, and barbarians; for he was persuaded\nthat no one could be his friend who was worthy of liberty, or had the\nleast desire of being free.\n\nXXIII. Shall I not, then, prefer the life of Plato and Archytas,\nmanifestly wise and learned men, to his, than which nothing can\npossibly be more horrid, or miserable, or detestable?\n\nI will present you with an humble and obscure mathematician of the same\ncity, called Archimedes, who lived many years after; whose tomb,\novergrown with shrubs and briers, I in my quaestorship discovered, when\nthe Syracusans knew nothing of it, and even denied that there was any\nsuch thing remaining; for I remembered some verses, which I had been\ninformed were engraved on his monument, and these set forth that on the\ntop of the tomb there was placed a sphere with a cylinder. When I had\ncarefully examined all the monuments (for there are a great many tombs\nat the gate Achradinae), I observed a small column standing out a little\nabove the briers, with the figure of a sphere and a cylinder upon it;\nwhereupon I immediately said to the Syracusans--for there were some of\ntheir principal men with me there--that I imagined that was what I was\ninquiring for. Several men, being sent in with scythes, cleared the\nway, and made an opening for us. When we could get at it, and were come\nnear to the front of the pedestal, I found the inscription, though the\nlatter parts of all the verses were effaced almost half away. Thus one\nof the noblest cities of Greece, and one which at one time likewise had\nbeen very celebrated for learning, had known nothing of the monument of\nits greatest genius, if it had not been discovered to them by a native\nof Arpinum. But to return to the subject from which I have been\ndigressing. Who is there in the least degree acquainted with the Muses,\nthat is, with liberal knowledge, or that deals at all in learning, who\nwould not choose to be this mathematician rather than that tyrant? If\nwe look into their methods of living and their employments, we shall\nfind the mind of the one strengthened and improved with tracing the\ndeductions of reason, amused with his own ingenuity, which is the one\nmost delicious food of the mind; the thoughts of the other engaged in\ncontinual murders and injuries, in constant fears by night and by day.\nNow imagine a Democritus, a Pythagoras, and an Anaxagoras; what\nkingdom, what riches, would you prefer to their studies and amusements?\nFor you must necessarily look for that excellence which we are seeking\nfor in that which is the most perfect part of man; but what is there\nbetter in man than a sagacious and good mind? The enjoyment, therefore,\nof that good which proceeds from that sagacious mind can alone make us\nhappy; but virtue is the good of the mind: it follows, therefore, that\na happy life depends on virtue. Hence proceed all things that are\nbeautiful, honorable, and excellent, as I said above (but this point\nmust, I think, be treated of more at large), and they are well stored\nwith joys. For, as it is clear that a happy life consists in perpetual\nand unexhausted pleasures, it follows, too, that a happy life must\narise from honesty.\n\nXXIV. But that what I propose to demonstrate to you may not rest on\nmere words only, I must set before you the picture of something, as it\nwere, living and moving in the world, that may dispose us more for the\nimprovement of the understanding and real knowledge. Let us, then,\npitch upon some man perfectly acquainted with the most excellent arts;\nlet us present him for awhile to our own thoughts, and figure him to\nour own imaginations. In the first place, he must necessarily be of an\nextraordinary capacity; for virtue is not easily connected with dull\nminds. Secondly, he must have a great desire of discovering truth, from\nwhence will arise that threefold production of the mind; one of which\ndepends on knowing things, and explaining nature; the other, in\ndefining what we ought to desire and what to avoid; the third, in\njudging of consequences and impossibilities, in which consists both\nsubtlety in disputing and also clearness of judgment. Now, with what\npleasure must the mind of a wise man be affected which continually\ndwells in the midst of such cares and occupations as these, when he\nviews the revolutions and motions of the whole world, and sees those\ninnumerable stars in the heavens, which, though fixed in their places,\nhave yet one motion in common with the whole universe, and observes the\nseven other stars, some higher, some lower, each maintaining their own\ncourse, while their motions, though wandering, have certain defined and\nappointed spaces to run through! the sight of which doubtless urged and\nencouraged those ancient philosophers to exercise their investigating\nspirit on many other things. Hence arose an inquiry after the\nbeginnings, and, as it were, seeds from which all things were produced\nand composed; what was the origin of every kind of thing, whether\nanimate or inanimate, articulately speaking or mute; what occasioned\ntheir beginning and end, and by what alteration and change one thing\nwas converted into another; whence the earth originated, and by what\nweights it was balanced; by what caverns the seas were supplied; by\nwhat gravity all things being carried down tend always to the middle of\nthe world, which in any round body is the lowest place.\n\nXXV. A mind employed on such subjects, and which night and day\ncontemplates them, contains in itself that precept of the Delphic God,\nso as to \"know itself,\" and to perceive its connection with the divine\nreason, from whence it is filled with an insatiable joy. For\nreflections on the power and nature of the Gods raise in us a desire of\nimitating their eternity. Nor does the mind, that sees the necessary\ndependences and connections that one cause has with another, think it\npossible that it should be itself confined to the shortness of this\nlife. Those causes, though they proceed from eternity to eternity, are\ngoverned by reason and understanding. And he who beholds them and\nexamines them, or rather he whose view takes in all the parts and\nboundaries of things, with what tranquillity of mind does he look on\nall human affairs, and on all that is nearer him! Hence proceeds the\nknowledge of virtue; hence arise the kinds and species of virtues;\nhence are discovered those things which nature regards as the bounds\nand extremities of good and evil; by this it is discovered to what all\nduties ought to be referred, and which is the most eligible manner of\nlife. And when these and similar points have been investigated, the\nprincipal consequence which is deduced from them, and that which is our\nmain object in this discussion, is the establishment of the point, that\nvirtue is of itself sufficient to a happy life.\n\nThe third qualification of our wise man is the next to be considered,\nwhich goes through and spreads itself over every part of wisdom; it is\nthat whereby we define each particular thing, distinguish the genus\nfrom its species, connect consequences, draw just conclusions, and\ndistinguish truth from falsehood, which is the very art and science of\ndisputing; which is not only of the greatest use in the examination of\nwhat passes in the world, but is likewise the most rational\nentertainment, and that which is most becoming to true wisdom. Such are\nits effects in retirement. Now, let our wise man be considered as\nprotecting the republic; what can be more excellent than such a\ncharacter? By his prudence he will discover the true interests of his\nfellow-citizens; by his justice he will be prevented from applying what\nbelongs to the public to his own use; and, in short, he will be ever\ngoverned by all the virtues, which are many and various. To these let\nus add the advantage of his friendships; in which the learned reckon\nnot only a natural harmony and agreement of sentiments throughout the\nconduct of life, but the utmost pleasure and satisfaction in conversing\nand passing our time constantly with one another. What can be wanting\nto such a life as this to make it more happy than it is? Fortune\nherself must yield to a life stored with such joys. Now, if it be a\nhappiness to rejoice in such goods of the mind, that is to say, in such\nvirtues, and if all wise men enjoy thoroughly these pleasures, it must\nnecessarily be granted that all such are happy.\n\nXXVI. _A._ What, when in torments and on the rack?\n\n_M._ Do you imagine I am speaking of him as laid on roses and violets?\nIs it allowable even for Epicurus (who only puts on the appearance of\nbeing a philosopher, and who himself assumed that name for himself) to\nsay (though, as matters stand, I commend him for his saying) that a\nwise man might at all times cry out, though he be burned, tortured, cut\nto pieces, \"How little I regard it!\" Shall this be said by one who\ndefines all evil as pain, and measures every good by pleasure; who\ncould ridicule whatever we call either honorable or base, and could\ndeclare of us that we were employed about words, and uttering mere\nempty sounds; and that nothing is to be regarded by us but as it is\nperceived to be smooth or rough by the body? What! shall such a man as\nthis, as I said, whose understanding is little superior to the beasts',\nbe at liberty to forget himself; and not only to despise fortune, when\nthe whole of his good and evil is in the power of fortune, but to say\nthat he is happy in the most racking torture, when he had actually\ndeclared pain to be not only the greatest evil, but the only one? Nor\ndid he take any trouble to provide himself with those remedies which\nmight have enabled him to bear pain, such as firmness of mind, a shame\nof doing anything base, exercise, and the habit of patience, precepts\nof courage, and a manly hardiness; but he says that he supports himself\non the single recollection of past pleasures, as if any one, when the\nweather was so hot as that he was scarcely able to bear it, should\ncomfort himself by recollecting that he was once in my country,\nArpinum, where he was surrounded on every side by cooling streams. For\nI do not apprehend how past pleasures can allay present evils. But when\nhe says that a wise man is always happy who would have no right to say\nso if he were consistent with himself, what may they not do who allow\nnothing to be desirable, nothing to be looked on as good but what is\nhonorable? Let, then, the Peripatetics and Old Academics follow my\nexample, and at length leave off muttering to themselves; and openly\nand with a clear voice let them be bold to say that a happy life may\nnot be inconsistent with the agonies of Phalaris's bull.\n\nXXVII. But to dismiss the subtleties of the Stoics, which I am sensible\nI have employed more than was necessary, let us admit of three kinds of\ngoods; and let them really be kinds of goods, provided no regard is had\nto the body and to external circumstances, as entitled to the\nappellation of good in any other sense than because we are obliged to\nuse them: but let those other divine goods spread themselves far in\nevery direction, and reach the very heavens. Why, then, may I not call\nhim happy, nay, the happiest of men, who has attained them? Shall a\nwise man be afraid of pain? which is, indeed, the greatest enemy to our\nopinion. For I am persuaded that we are prepared and fortified\nsufficiently, by the disputations of the foregoing days, against our\nown death or that of our friends, against grief, and the other\nperturbations of the mind. But pain seems to be the sharpest adversary\nof virtue; that it is which menaces us with burning torches; that it is\nwhich threatens to crush our fortitude, and greatness of mind, and\npatience. Shall virtue, then, yield to this? Shall the happy life of a\nwise and consistent man succumb to this? Good. Gods! how base would\nthis be! Spartan boys will bear to have their bodies torn by rods\nwithout uttering a groan. I myself have seen at Lacedaemon troops of\nyoung men, with incredible earnestness contending together with their\nhands and feet, with their teeth and nails, nay, even ready to expire,\nrather than own themselves conquered. Is any country of barbarians more\nuncivilized or desolate than India? Yet they have among them some that\nare held for wise men, who never wear any clothes all their life long,\nand who bear the snow of Caucasus, and the piercing cold of winter,\nwithout any pain; and who if they come in contact with fire endure\nbeing burned without a groan. The women, too, in India, on the death of\ntheir husbands have a regular contest, and apply to the judge to have\nit determined which of them was best beloved by him; for it is\ncustomary there for one man to have many wives. She in whose favor it\nis determined exults greatly, and being attended by her relations, is\nlaid on the funeral pile with her husband; the others, who are\npostponed, walk away very much dejected. Custom can never be superior\nto nature, for nature is never to be got the better of. But our minds\nare infected by sloth and idleness, and luxury, and languor, and\nindolence: we have enervated them by opinions and bad customs. Who is\nthere who is unacquainted with the customs of the Egyptians? Their\nminds being tainted by pernicious opinions, they are ready to bear any\ntorture rather than hurt an ibis, a snake, a cat, a dog, or a\ncrocodile; and should any one inadvertently have hurt any of these\nanimals, he will submit to any punishment. I am speaking of men only.\nAs to the beasts, do they not bear cold and hunger, running about in\nwoods, and on mountains and deserts? Will they not fight for their\nyoung ones till they are wounded? Are they afraid of any attacks or\nblows? I mention not what the ambitious will suffer for honor's sake,\nor those who are desirous of praise on account of glory, or lovers to\ngratify their lust. Life is full of such instances.\n\nXXVIII. But let us not dwell too much on these questions, but rather\nlet us return to our subject. I say, and say again, that happiness will\nsubmit even to be tormented; and that in pursuit of justice, and\ntemperance, and still more especially and principally fortitude, and\ngreatness of soul, and patience, it will not stop short at sight of the\nexecutioner; and when all other virtues proceed calmly to the torture,\nthat one will never halt, as I said, on the outside and threshold of\nthe prison; for what can be baser, what can carry a worse appearance,\nthan to be left alone, separated from those beautiful attendants? Not,\nhowever, that this is by any means possible; for neither can the\nvirtues hold together without happiness, nor happiness without the\nvirtues; so that they will not suffer her to desert them, but will\ncarry her along with them, to whatever torments, to whatever pain they\nare led. For it is the peculiar quality of a wise man to do nothing\nthat he may repent of, nothing against his inclination, but always to\nact nobly, with constancy, gravity, and honesty; to depend on nothing\nas certainty; to wonder at nothing, when it falls out, as if it\nappeared strange and unexpected to him; to be independent of every one,\nand abide by his own opinion. For my part, I cannot form an idea of\nanything happier than this. The conclusion of the Stoics is indeed\neasy; for since they are persuaded that the end of good is to live\nagreeably to nature, and to be consistent with that--as a wise man\nshould do so, not only because it is his duty, but because it is in his\npower--it must, of course, follow that whoever has the chief good in\nhis power has his happiness so too. And thus the life of a wise man is\nalways happy. You have here what I think may be confidently said of a\nhappy life; and as things now stand, very truly also, unless you can\nadvance something better.\n\nXXIX. _A._ Indeed I cannot; but I should be glad to prevail on you,\nunless it is troublesome (as you are under no confinement from\nobligations to any particular sect, but gather from all of them\nwhatever strikes you most as having the appearance of probability), as\nyou just now seemed to advise the Peripatetics and the Old Academy\nboldly to speak out without reserve, \"that wise men are always the\nhappiest\"--I should be glad to hear how you think it consistent for\nthem to say so, when you have said so much against that opinion, and\nthe conclusions of the Stoics.\n\n_M._ I will make use, then, of that liberty which no one has the\nprivilege of using in philosophy but those of our school, whose\ndiscourses determine nothing, but take in everything, leaving them\nunsupported by the authority of any particular person, to be judged of\nby others, according to their weight. And as you seem desirous of\nknowing how it is that, notwithstanding the different opinions of\nphilosophers with regard to the ends of goods, virtue has still\nsufficient security for the effecting of a happy life--which security,\nas we are informed, Carneades used indeed to dispute against; but he\ndisputed as against the Stoics, whose opinions he combated with great\nzeal and vehemence. I, however, shall handle the question with more\ntemper; for if the Stoics have rightly settled the _ends_ of goods, the\naffair is at an end; for a wise man must necessarily be always happy.\nBut let us examine, if we can, the particular opinions of the others,\nthat so this excellent decision, if I may so call it, in favor of a\nhappy life, may be agreeable to the opinions and discipline of all.\n\nXXX. These, then, are the opinions, as I think, that are held and\ndefended--the first four are simple ones: \"that nothing is good but\nwhat is honest,\" according to the Stoics; \"nothing good but pleasure,\"\nas Epicurus maintains; \"nothing good but a freedom from pain,\" as\nHieronymus[62] asserts; \"nothing good but an enjoyment of the\nprincipal, or all, or the greatest goods of nature,\" as Carneades\nmaintained against the Stoics--these are simple, the others are mixed\npropositions. Then there are three kinds of goods: the greatest being\nthose of the mind; the next best those of the body; the third are\nexternal goods, as the Peripatetics call them, and the Old Academics\ndiffer very little from them. Dinomachus[63] and Callipho[64] have\ncoupled pleasure with honesty; but Diodorus[65] the Peripatetic has\njoined indolence to honesty. These are the opinions that have some\nfooting; for those of Aristo,[66] Pyrrho,[67] Herillus,[68] and of some\nothers, are quite out of date. Now let us see what weight these men\nhave in them, excepting the Stoics, whose opinion I think I have\nsufficiently defended; and indeed I have explained what the\nPeripatetics have to say; excepting that Theophrastus, and those who\nfollowed him, dread and abhor pain in too weak a manner. The others may\ngo on to exaggerate the gravity and dignity of virtue, as usual; and\nthen, after they have extolled it to the skies, with the usual\nextravagance of good orators, it is easy to reduce the other topics to\nnothing by comparison, and to hold them up to contempt. They who think\nthat praise deserves to be sought after, even at the expense of pain,\nare not at liberty to deny those men to be happy who have obtained it.\nThough they may be under some evils, yet this name of happy has a very\nwide application.\n\nXXXI. For even as trading is said to be lucrative, and farming\nadvantageous, not because the one never meets with any loss, nor the\nother with any damage from the inclemency of the weather, but because\nthey succeed in general; so life may be properly called happy, not from\nits being entirely made up of good things, but because it abounds with\nthese to a great and considerable degree. By this way of reasoning,\nthen, a happy life may attend virtue even to the moment of execution;\nnay, may descend with her into Phalaris's bull, according to Aristotle,\nXenocrates, Speusippus, Polemon; and will not be gained over by any\nallurements to forsake her. Of the same opinion will Calliphon and\nDiodorus be; for they are both of them such friends to virtue as to\nthink that all things should be discarded and far removed that are\nincompatible with it. The rest seem to be more hampered with these\ndoctrines, but yet they get clear of them; such as Epicurus,\nHieronymus, and whoever else thinks it worth while to defend the\ndeserted Carneades: for there is not one of them who does not think the\nmind to be judge of those goods, and able sufficiently to instruct him\nhow to despise what has the appearance only of good or evil. For what\nseems to you to be the case with Epicurus is the case also with\nHieronymus and Carneades, and, indeed, with all the rest of them; for\nwho is there who is not sufficiently prepared against death and pain? I\nwill begin, with your leave, with him whom we call soft and voluptuous.\nWhat! does he seem, to you to be afraid of death or pain when he calls\nthe day of his death happy; and who, when he is afflicted by the\ngreatest pains, silences them all by recollecting arguments of his own\ndiscovering? And this is not done in such a manner as to give room for\nimagining that he talks thus wildly from some sudden impulse; but his\nopinion of death is, that on the dissolution of the animal all sense is\nlost; and what is deprived of sense is, as he thinks, what we have no\nconcern at all with. And as to pain, too, he has certain rules to\nfollow then: if it be great, the comfort is that it must be short; if\nit be of long continuance, then it must be supportable. What, then? Do\nthose grandiloquent gentlemen state anything better than Epicurus in\nopposition to these two things which distress us the most? And as to\nother things, do not Epicurus and the rest of the philosophers seem\nsufficiently prepared? Who is there who does not dread poverty? And yet\nno true philosopher ever can dread it.\n\nXXXII. But with how little is this man himself satisfied! No one has\nsaid more on frugality. For when a man is far removed from those things\nwhich occasion a desire of money, from love, ambition, or other daily\nextravagance, why should he be fond of money, or concern himself at all\nabout it? Could the Scythian Anacharsis[69] disregard money, and shall\nnot our philosophers be able to do so? We are informed of an epistle of\nhis in these words: \"Anacharsis to Hanno, greeting. My clothing is the\nsame as that with which the Scythians cover themselves; the hardness of\nmy feet supplies the want of shoes; the ground is my bed, hunger my\nsauce, my food milk, cheese, and flesh. So you may come to me as to a\nman in want of nothing. But as to those presents you take so much\npleasure in, you may dispose of them to your own citizens, or to the\nimmortal Gods.\" And almost all philosophers, of all schools, excepting\nthose who are warped from right reason by a vicious disposition, might\nhave been of this same opinion. Socrates, when on one occasion he saw a\ngreat quantity of gold and silver carried in a procession, cried out,\n\"How many things are there which I do not want!\" Xenocrates, when some\nambassadors from Alexander had brought him fifty talents, which was a\nvery large sum of money in those times, especially at Athens, carried\nthe ambassadors to sup in the Academy, and placed just a sufficiency\nbefore them, without any apparatus. When they asked him, the next day,\nto whom he wished the money which they had for him to be paid: \"What!\"\nsaid he, \"did you not perceive by our slight repast of yesterday that I\nhad no occasion for money?\" But when he perceived that they were\nsomewhat dejected, he accepted of thirty minas, that he might not seem\nto treat with disrespect the king's generosity. But Diogenes took a\ngreater liberty, like a Cynic, when Alexander asked him if he wanted\nanything: \"Just at present,\" said he, \"I wish that you would stand a\nlittle out of the line between me and the sun,\" for Alexander was\nhindering him from sunning himself. And, indeed, this very man used to\nmaintain how much he surpassed the Persian king in his manner of life\nand fortune; for that he himself was in want of nothing, while the\nother never had enough; and that he had no inclination for those\npleasures of which the other could never get enough to satisfy himself;\nand that the other could never obtain his.\n\nXXXIII. You see, I imagine, how Epicurus has divided his kinds of\ndesires, not very acutely perhaps, but yet usefully: saying that they\nare \"partly natural and necessary; partly natural, but not necessary;\npartly neither. That those which are necessary may be supplied almost\nfor nothing; for that the things which nature requires are easily\nobtained.\" As to the second kind of desires, his opinion is that any\none may easily either enjoy or go without them. And with regard to the\nthird, since they are utterly frivolous, being neither allied to\nnecessity nor nature, he thinks that they should be entirely rooted\nout. On this topic a great many arguments are adduced by the\nEpicureans; and those pleasures which they do not despise in a body,\nthey disparage one by one, and seem rather for lessening the number of\nthem; for as to wanton pleasures, on which subject they say a great\ndeal, these, say they, are easy, common, and within any one's reach;\nand they think that if nature requires them, they are not to be\nestimated by birth, condition, or rank, but by shape, age, and person:\nand that it is by no means difficult to refrain from them, should\nhealth, duty, or reputation require it; but that pleasures of this kind\nmay be desirable, where they are attended with no inconvenience, but\ncan never be of any use. And the assertions which Epicurus makes with\nrespect to the whole of pleasure are such as show his opinion to be\nthat pleasure is always desirable, and to be pursued merely because it\nis pleasure; and for the same reason pain is to be avoided, because it\nis pain. So that a wise man will always adopt such a system of\ncounterbalancing as to do himself the justice to avoid pleasure, should\npain ensue from it in too great a proportion; and will submit to pain,\nprovided the effects of it are to produce a greater pleasure: so that\nall pleasurable things, though the corporeal senses are the judges of\nthem, are still to be referred to the mind, on which account the body\nrejoices while it perceives a present pleasure; but that the mind not\nonly perceives the present as well as the body, but foresees it while\nit is coming, and even when it is past will not let it quite slip away.\nSo that a wise man enjoys a continual series of pleasures, uniting the\nexpectation of future pleasure to the recollection of what he has\nalready tasted. The like notions are applied by them to high living;\nand the magnificence and expensiveness of entertainments are\ndeprecated, because nature is satisfied at a small expense.\n\nXXXIV. For who does not see this, that an appetite is the best sauce?\nWhen Darius, in his flight from the enemy, had drunk some water which\nwas muddy and tainted with dead bodies, he declared that he had never\ndrunk anything more pleasant; the fact was, that he had never drunk\nbefore when he was thirsty. Nor had Ptolemy ever eaten when he was\nhungry; for as he was travelling over Egypt, his company not keeping up\nwith him, he had some coarse bread presented him in a cottage, upon\nwhich he said, \"Nothing ever seemed to him pleasanter than that bread.\"\nThey relate, too, of Socrates, that, once when he was walking very fast\ntill the evening, on his being asked why he did so, his reply was that\nhe was purchasing an appetite by walking, that he might sup the better.\nAnd do we not see what the Lacedaemonians provide in their Phiditia?\nwhere the tyrant Dionysius supped, but told them he did not at all like\nthat black broth, which was their principal dish; on which he who\ndressed it said, \"It was no wonder, for it wanted seasoning.\" Dionysius\nasked what that seasoning was; to which it was replied, \"Fatigue in\nhunting, sweating, a race on the banks of Eurotas, hunger and thirst,\"\nfor these are the seasonings to the Lacedaemonian banquets. And this may\nnot only be conceived from the custom of men, but from the beasts, who\nare satisfied with anything that is thrown before them, provided it is\nnot unnatural, and they seek no farther. Some entire cities, taught by\ncustom, delight in parsimony, as I said but just now of the\nLacedaemonians. Xenophon has given an account of the Persian diet, who\nnever, as he saith, use anything but cresses with their bread; not but\nthat, should nature require anything more agreeable, many things might\nbe easily supplied by the ground, and plants in great abundance, and of\nincomparable sweetness. Add to this strength and health, as the\nconsequence of this abstemious way of living. Now, compare with this\nthose who sweat and belch, being crammed with eating, like fatted oxen;\nthen will you perceive that they who pursue pleasure most attain it\nleast; and that the pleasure of eating lies not in satiety, but\nappetite.\n\nXXXV. They report of Timotheus, a famous man at Athens, and the head of\nthe city, that having supped with Plato, and being extremely delighted\nwith his entertainment, on seeing him the next day, he said, \"Your\nsuppers are not only agreeable while I partake of them, but the next\nday also.\" Besides, the understanding is impaired when we are full with\novereating and drinking. There is an excellent epistle of Plato to\nDion's relations, in which there occurs as nearly as possible these\nwords: \"When I came there, that happy life so much talked of, devoted\nto Italian and Syracusan entertainments, was noways agreeable to me; to\nbe crammed twice a day, and never to have the night to yourself, and\nthe other things which are the accompaniments of this kind of life, by\nwhich a man will never be made the wiser, but will be rendered much\nless temperate; for it must be an extraordinary disposition that can be\ntemperate in such circumstances.\" How, then, can a life be pleasant\nwithout prudence and temperance? Hence you discover the mistake of\nSardanapalus, the wealthiest king of the Assyrians, who ordered it to\nbe engraved on his tomb,\n\n    I still have what in food I did exhaust;\n    But what I left, though excellent, is lost.\n\n\"What less than this,\" says Aristotle, \"could be inscribed on the tomb,\nnot of a king, but an ox?\" He said that he possessed those things when\ndead, which, in his lifetime, he could have no longer than while he was\nenjoying them. Why, then, are riches desired? And wherein doth poverty\nprevent us from being happy? In the want, I imagine, of statues,\npictures, and diversions. But if any one is delighted with these\nthings, have not the poor people the enjoyment of them more than they\nwho are the owners of them in the greatest abundance? For we have great\nnumbers of them displayed publicly in our city. And whatever store of\nthem private people have, they cannot have a great number, and they but\nseldom see them, only when they go to their country seats; and some of\nthem must be stung to the heart when they consider how they came by\nthem. The day would fail me, should I be inclined to defend the cause\nof poverty. The thing is manifest; and nature daily informs us how few\nthings there are, and how trifling they are, of which she really stands\nin need.\n\nXXXVI. Let us inquire, then, if obscurity, the want of power, or even\nthe being unpopular, can prevent a wise man from being happy. Observe\nif popular favor, and this glory which they are so fond of, be not\nattended with more uneasiness than pleasure. Our friend Demosthenes was\ncertainly very weak in declaring himself pleased with the whisper of a\nwoman who was carrying water, as is the custom in Greece, and who\nwhispered to another, \"That is he--that is Demosthenes.\" What could be\nweaker than this? and yet what an orator he was! But although he had\nlearned to speak to others, he had conversed but little with himself.\nWe may perceive, therefore, that popular glory is not desirable of\nitself; nor is obscurity to be dreaded. \"I came to Athens,\" saith\nDemocritus, \"and there was no one there that knew me:\" this was a\nmoderate and grave man who could glory in his obscurity. Shall\nmusicians compose their tunes to their own tastes? and shall a\nphilosopher, master of a much better art, seek to ascertain, not what\nis most true, but what will please the people? Can anything be more\nabsurd than to despise the vulgar as mere unpolished mechanics, taken\nsingly, and to think them of consequence when collected into a body?\nThese wise men would contemn our ambitious pursuits and our vanities,\nand would reject all the honors which the people could voluntarily\noffer to them; but we know not how to despise them till we begin to\nrepent of having accepted them. There is an anecdote related by\nHeraclitus, the natural philosopher, of Hermodorus, the chief of the\nEphesians, that he said \"that all the Ephesians ought to be punished\nwith death for saying, when they had expelled Hermodorus out of their\ncity, that they would have no one among them better than another; but\nthat if there were any such, he might go elsewhere to some other\npeople.\" Is not this the case with the people everywhere? Do they not\nhate every virtue that distinguishes itself? What! was not Aristides (I\nhad rather instance in the Greeks than ourselves) banished his country\nfor being eminently just? What troubles, then, are they free from who\nhave no connection whatever with the people? What is more agreeable\nthan a learned retirement? I speak of that learning which makes us\nacquainted with the boundless extent of nature and the universe, and\nwhich even while we remain in this world discovers to us both heaven,\nearth, and sea.\n\nXXXVII. If, then, honor and riches have no value, what is there else to\nbe afraid of? Banishment, I suppose; which is looked on as the greatest\nevil. Now, if the evil of banishment proceeds not from ourselves, but\nfrom the froward disposition of the people, I have just now declared\nhow contemptible it is. But if to leave one's country be miserable, the\nprovinces are full of miserable men, very few of the settlers in which\never return to their country again. But exiles are deprived of their\nproperty! What, then! has there not been enough said on bearing\npoverty? But with regard to banishment, if we examine the nature of\nthings, not the ignominy of the name, how little does it differ from\nconstant travelling! in which some of the most famous philosophers have\nspent their whole life, as Xenocrates, Crantor, Arcesilas, Lacydes,\nAristotle, Theophrastus, Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Antipater,\nCarneades, Panaetius, Clitomachus, Philo, Antiochus, Posidonius, and\ninnumerable others, who from their first setting-out never returned\nhome again. Now, what ignominy can a wise man be affected with (for it\nis of such a one that I am speaking) who can be guilty of nothing which\ndeserves it? for there is no occasion to comfort one who is banished\nfor his deserts. Lastly, they can easily reconcile themselves to every\naccident who measure all their objects and pursuits in life by the\nstandard of pleasure; so that in whatever place that is supplied, there\nthey may live happily. Thus what Teucer said may be applied to every\ncase:\n\n    \"Wherever I am happy is my country.\"\n\nSocrates, indeed, when he was asked where he belonged to, replied, \"The\nworld;\" for he looked upon himself as a citizen and inhabitant of the\nwhole world. How was it with T. Altibutius? Did he not follow his\nphilosophical studies with the greatest satisfaction at Athens,\nalthough he was banished? which, however, would not have happened to\nhim if he had obeyed the laws of Epicurus and lived peaceably in the\nrepublic. In what was Epicurus happier, living in his own country, than\nMetrodorus, who lived at Athens? Or did Plato's happiness exceed that\nof Xenocrates, or Polemo, or Arcesilas? Or is that city to be valued\nmuch that banishes all her good and wise men? Demaratus, the father of\nour King Tarquin, not being able to bear the tyrant Cypselus, fled from\nCorinth to Tarquinii, settled there, and had children. Was it, then, an\nunwise act in him to prefer the liberty of banishment to slavery at\nhome?\n\nXXXVIII. Besides the emotions of the mind, all griefs and anxieties are\nassuaged by forgetting them, and turning our thoughts to pleasure.\nTherefore, it was not without reason that Epicurus presumed to say that\na wise man abounds with good things, because he may always have his\npleasures; from whence it follows, as he thinks, that that point is\ngained which is the subject of our present inquiry, that a wise man is\nalways happy. What! though he should be deprived of the senses of\nseeing and hearing? Yes; for he holds those things very cheap. For, in\nthe first place, what are the pleasures of which we are deprived by\nthat dreadful thing, blindness? For though they allow other pleasures\nto be confined to the senses, yet the things which are perceived by the\nsight do not depend wholly on the pleasure the eyes receive; as is the\ncase when we taste, smell, touch, or hear; for, in respect of all these\nsenses, the organs themselves are the seat of pleasure; but it is not\nso with the eyes. For it is the mind which is entertained by what we\nsee; but the mind may be entertained in many ways, even though we could\nnot see at all. I am speaking of a learned and a wise man, with whom to\nthink is to live. But thinking in the case of a wise man does not\naltogether require the use of his eyes in his investigations; for if\nnight does not strip him of his happiness, why should blindness, which\nresembles night, have that effect? For the reply of Antipater the\nCyrenaic to some women who bewailed his being blind, though it is a\nlittle too obscene, is not without its significance. \"What do you\nmean?\" saith he; \"do you think the night can furnish no pleasure?\" And\nwe find by his magistracies and his actions that old Appius,[70] too,\nwho was blind for many years, was not prevented from doing whatever was\nrequired of him with respect either to the republic or his own affairs.\nIt is said that C. Drusus's house was crowded with clients. When they\nwhose business it was could not see how to conduct themselves, they\napplied to a blind guide.\n\nXXXIX. When I was a boy, Cn. Aufidius, a blind man, who had served the\noffice of praetor, not only gave his opinion in the Senate, and was\nready to assist his friends, but wrote a Greek history, and had a\nconsiderable acquaintance with literature. Diodorus the Stoic was\nblind, and lived many years at my house. He, indeed, which is scarcely\ncredible, besides applying himself more than usual to philosophy, and\nplaying on the flute, agreeably to the custom of the Pythagoreans, and\nhaving books read to him night and day, in all which he did not want\neyes, contrived to teach geometry, which, one would think, could hardly\nbe done without the assistance of eyes, telling his scholars how and\nwhere to draw every line. They relate of Asclepiades, a native of\nEretria, and no obscure philosopher, when some one asked him what\ninconvenience he suffered from his blindness, that his reply was, \"He\nwas at the expense of another servant.\" So that, as the most extreme\npoverty may be borne if you please, as is daily the case with some in\nGreece, so blindness may easily be borne, provided you have the support\nof good health in other respects. Democritus was so blind he could not\ndistinguish white from black; but he knew the difference between good\nand evil, just and unjust, honorable and base, the useful and useless,\ngreat and small. Thus one may live happily without distinguishing\ncolors; but without acquainting yourself with things, you cannot; and\nthis man was of opinion that the intense application of the mind was\ntaken off by the objects that presented themselves to the eye; and\nwhile others often could not see what was before their feet, he\ntravelled through all infinity. It is reported also that Homer[71] was\nblind, but we observe his painting as well as his poetry. What country,\nwhat coast, what part of Greece, what military attacks, what\ndispositions of battle, what array, what ship, what motions of men and\nanimals, can be mentioned which he has not described in such a manner\nas to enable us to see what he could not see himself? What, then! can\nwe imagine that Homer, or any other learned man, has ever been in want\nof pleasure and entertainment for his mind? Were it not so, would\nAnaxagoras, or this very Democritus, have left their estates and\npatrimonies, and given themselves up to the pursuit of acquiring this\ndivine pleasure? It is thus that the poets who have represented\nTiresias the Augur as a wise man and blind never exhibit him as\nbewailing his blindness. And Homer, too, after he had described\nPolyphemus as a monster and a wild man, represents him talking with his\nram, and speaking of his good fortune, inasmuch as he could go wherever\nhe pleased and touch what he would. And so far he was right, for that\nCyclops was a being of not much more understanding than his ram.\n\nXL. Now, as to the evil of being deaf. M. Crassus was a little thick of\nhearing; but it was more uneasiness to him that he heard himself ill\nspoken of, though, in my opinion, he did not deserve it. Our Epicureans\ncannot understand Greek, nor the Greeks Latin: now, they are deaf\nreciprocally as to each other's language, and we are all truly deaf\nwith regard to those innumerable languages which we do not understand.\nThey do not hear the voice of the harper; but, then, they do not hear\nthe grating of a saw when it is setting, or the grunting of a hog when\nhis throat is being cut, nor the roaring of the sea when they are\ndesirous of rest. And if they should chance to be fond of singing, they\nought, in the first place, to consider that many wise men lived happily\nbefore music was discovered; besides, they may have more pleasure in\nreading verses than in hearing them sung. Then, as I before referred\nthe blind to the pleasures of hearing, so I may the deaf to the\npleasures of sight: moreover, whoever can converse with himself doth\nnot need the conversation of another. But suppose all these misfortunes\nto meet in one person: suppose him blind and deaf--let him be afflicted\nwith the sharpest pains of body, which, in the first place, generally\nof themselves make an end of him; still, should they continue so long,\nand the pain be so exquisite, that we should be unable to assign any\nreason for our being so afflicted--still, why, good Gods! should we be\nunder any difficulty? For there is a retreat at hand: death is that\nretreat--a shelter where we shall forever be insensible. Theodorus said\nto Lysimachus, who threatened him with death, \"It is a great matter,\nindeed, for you to have acquired the power of a Spanish fly!\" When\nPerses entreated Paulus not to lead him in triumph, \"That is a matter\nwhich you have in your own power,\" said Paulus. I said many things\nabout death in our first day's disputation, when death was the subject;\nand not a little the next day, when I treated of pain; which things if\nyou recollect, there can be no danger of your looking upon death as\nundesirable, or, at least, it will not be dreadful.\n\nThat custom which is common among the Grecians at their banquets\nshould, in my opinion, be observed in life: Drink, say they, or leave\nthe company; and rightly enough; for a guest should either enjoy the\npleasure of drinking with others, or else not stay till he meets with\naffronts from those that are in liquor. Thus, those injuries of fortune\nwhich you cannot bear you should flee from.\n\nXLI. This is the very same which is said by Epicurus and Hieronymus.\nNow, if those philosophers, whose opinion it is that virtue has no\npower of itself, and who say that the conduct which we denominate\nhonorable and laudable is really nothing, and is only an empty\ncircumstance set off with an unmeaning sound, can nevertheless maintain\nthat a wise man is always happy, what, think you, may be done by the\nSocratic and Platonic philosophers? Some of these allow such\nsuperiority to the goods of the mind as quite to eclipse what concerns\nthe body and all external circumstances. But others do not admit these\nto be goods; they make everything depend on the mind: whose disputes\nCarneades used, as a sort of honorary arbitrator, to determine. For, as\nwhat seemed goods to the Peripatetics were allowed to be advantages by\nthe Stoics, and as the Peripatetics allowed no more to riches, good\nhealth; and other things of that sort than the Stoics, when these\nthings were considered according to their reality, and not by mere\nnames, his opinion was that there was no ground for disagreeing.\nTherefore, let the philosophers of other schools see how they can\nestablish this point also. It is very agreeable to me that they make\nsome professions worthy of being uttered by the mouth of a philosopher\nwith regard to a wise man's having always the means of living happily.\n\nXLII. But as we are to depart in the morning, let us remember these\nfive days' discussions; though, indeed, I think I shall commit them to\nwriting: for how can I better employ the leisure which I have, of\nwhatever kind it is, and whatever it be owing to? And I will send these\nfive books also to my friend Brutus, by whom I was not only incited to\nwrite on philosophy, but, I may say, provoked. And by so doing it is\nnot easy to say what service I may be of to others. At all events, in\nmy own various and acute afflictions, which surround me on all sides, I\ncannot find any better comfort for myself.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE NATURE OF THE GODS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\n\nI. There are many things in philosophy, my dear Brutus, which are not\nas yet fully explained to us, and particularly (as you very well know)\nthat most obscure and difficult question concerning the Nature of the\nGods, so extremely necessary both towards a knowledge of the human mind\nand the practice of true religion: concerning which the opinions of men\nare so various, and so different from each other, as to lead strongly\nto the inference that ignorance[72] is the cause, or origin, of\nphilosophy, and that the Academic philosophers have been prudent in\nrefusing their assent to things uncertain: for what is more unbecoming\nto a wise man than to judge rashly? or what rashness is so unworthy of\nthe gravity and stability of a philosopher as either to maintain false\nopinions, or, without the least hesitation, to support and defend what\nhe has not thoroughly examined and does not clearly comprehend?\n\nIn the question now before us, the greater part of mankind have united\nto acknowledge that which is most probable, and which we are all by\nnature led to suppose, namely, that there are Gods. Protagoras[73]\ndoubted whether there were any. Diagoras the Melian and Theodorus of\nCyrene entirely believed there were no such beings. But they who have\naffirmed that there are Gods, have expressed such a variety of\nsentiments on the subject, and the disagreement between them is so\ngreat, that it would be tiresome to enumerate their opinions; for they\ngive us many statements respecting the forms of the Gods, and their\nplaces of abode, and the employment of their lives. And these are\nmatters on which the philosophers differ with the most exceeding\nearnestness. But the most considerable part of the dispute is, whether\nthey are wholly inactive, totally unemployed, and free from all care\nand administration of affairs; or, on the contrary, whether all things\nwere made and constituted by them from the beginning; and whether they\nwill continue to be actuated and governed by them to eternity. This is\none of the greatest points in debate; and unless this is decided,\nmankind must necessarily remain in the greatest of errors, and ignorant\nof what is most important to be known.\n\nII. For there are some philosophers, both ancient and modern, who have\nconceived that the Gods take not the least cognizance of human affairs.\nBut if their doctrine be true, of what avail is piety, sanctity, or\nreligion? for these are feelings and marks of devotion which are\noffered to the Gods by men with uprightness and holiness, on the ground\nthat men are the objects of the attention of the Gods, and that many\nbenefits are conferred by the immortal Gods on the human race. But if\nthe Gods have neither the power nor the inclination to help us; if they\ntake no care of us, and pay no regard to our actions; and if there is\nno single advantage which can possibly accrue to the life of man; then\nwhat reason can we have to pay any adoration, or any honors, or to\nprefer any prayers to them? Piety, like the other virtues, cannot have\nany connection with vain show or dissimulation; and without piety,\nneither sanctity nor religion can be supported; the total subversion of\nwhich must be attended with great confusion and disturbance in life.\n\nI do not even know, if we cast off piety towards the Gods, but that\nfaith, and all the associations of human life, and that most excellent\nof all virtues, justice, may perish with it.\n\nThere are other philosophers, and those, too, very great and\nillustrious men, who conceive the whole world to be directed and\ngoverned by the will and wisdom of the Gods; nor do they stop here, but\nconceive likewise that the Deities consult and provide for the\npreservation of mankind. For they think that the fruits, and the\nproduce of the earth, and the seasons, and the variety of weather, and\nthe change of climates, by which all the productions of the earth are\nbrought to maturity, are designed by the immortal Gods for the use of\nman. They instance many other things, which shall be related in these\nbooks; and which would almost induce us to believe that the immortal\nGods had made them all expressly and solely for the benefit and\nadvantage of men. Against these opinions Carneades has advanced so much\nthat what he has said should excite a desire in men who are not\nnaturally slothful to search after truth; for there is no subject on\nwhich the learned as well as the unlearned differ so strenuously as in\nthis; and since their opinions are so various, and so repugnant one to\nanother, it is possible that none of them may be, and absolutely\nimpossible that more than one should be, right.\n\nIII. Now, in a cause like this, I may be able to pacify well-meaning\nopposers, and to confute invidious censurers, so as to induce the\nlatter to repent of their unreasonable contradiction, and the former to\nbe glad to learn; for they who admonish one in a friendly spirit should\nbe instructed, they who attack one like enemies should be repelled. But\nI observe that the several books which I have lately published[74] have\noccasioned much noise and various discourse about them; some people\nwondering what the reason has been why I have applied myself so\nsuddenly to the study of philosophy, and others desirous of knowing\nwhat my opinion is on such subjects. I likewise perceive that many\npeople wonder at my following that philosophy[75] chiefly which seems\nto take away the light, and to bury and envelop things in a kind of\nartificial night, and that I should so unexpectedly have taken up the\ndefence of a school that has been long neglected and forsaken. But it\nis a mistake to suppose that this application to philosophical studies\nhas been sudden on my part. I have applied myself to them from my\nyouth, at no small expense of time and trouble; and I have been in the\nhabit of philosophizing a great deal when I least seemed to think about\nit; for the truth of which I appeal to my orations, which are filled\nwith quotations from philosophers, and to my intimacy with those very\nlearned men who frequented my house and conversed daily with me,\nparticularly Diodorus, Philo, Antiochus, and Posidonius,[76] under whom\nI was bred; and if all the precepts of philosophy are to have reference\nto the conduct of life, I am inclined to think that I have advanced,\nboth in public and private affairs, only such principles as may be\nsupported by reason and authority.\n\nIV. But if any one should ask what has induced me, in the decline of\nlife, to write on these subjects, nothing is more easily answered; for\nwhen I found myself entirely disengaged from business, and the\ncommonwealth reduced to the necessity of being governed by the\ndirection and care of one man,[77] I thought it becoming, for the sake\nof the public, to instruct my countrymen in philosophy, and that it\nwould be of importance, and much to the honor and commendation of our\ncity, to have such great and excellent subjects introduced in the Latin\ntongue. I the less repent of my undertaking, since I plainly see that I\nhave excited in many a desire, not only of learning, but of writing;\nfor we have had several Romans well grounded in the learning of the\nGreeks who were unable to communicate to their countrymen what they had\nlearned, because they looked upon it as impossible to express that in\nLatin which they had received from the Greeks. In this point I think I\nhave succeeded so well that what I have done is not, even in\ncopiousness of expression, inferior to that language.\n\nAnother inducement to it was a melancholy disposition of mind, and the\ngreat and heavy oppression of fortune that was upon me; from which, if\nI could have found any surer remedy, I would not have sought relief in\nthis pursuit. But I could procure ease by no means better than by not\nonly applying myself to books, but by devoting myself to the\nexamination of the whole body of philosophy. And every part and branch\nof this is readily discovered when every question is propounded in\nwriting; for there is such an admirable continuation and series of\nthings that each seems connected with the other, and all appear linked\ntogether and united.\n\nV. Now, those men who desire to know my own private opinion on every\nparticular subject have more curiosity than is necessary. For the force\nof reason in disputation is to be sought after rather than authority,\nsince the authority of the teacher is often a disadvantage to those who\nare willing to learn; as they refuse to use their own judgment, and\nrely implicitly on him whom they make choice of for a preceptor. Nor\ncould I ever approve this custom of the Pythagoreans, who, when they\naffirmed anything in disputation, and were asked why it was so, used to\ngive this answer: \"He himself has said it;\" and this \"he himself,\" it\nseems, was Pythagoras. Such was the force of prejudice and opinion that\nhis authority was to prevail even without argument or reason.\n\nThey who wonder at my being a follower of this sect in particular may\nfind a satisfactory answer in my four books of Academical Questions.\nBut I deny that I have undertaken the protection of what is neglected\nand forsaken; for the opinions of men do not die with them, though they\nmay perhaps want the author's explanation. This manner of\nphilosophizing, of disputing all things and assuming nothing certainly,\nwas begun by Socrates, revived by Arcesilaus, confirmed by Carneades,\nand has descended, with all its power, even to the present age; but I\nam informed that it is now almost exploded even in Greece. However, I\ndo not impute that to any fault in the institution of the Academy, but\nto the negligence of mankind. If it is difficult to know all the\ndoctrines of any one sect, how much more is it to know those of every\nsect! which, however, must necessarily be known to those who resolve,\nfor the sake of discovering truth, to dispute for or against all\nphilosophers without partiality.\n\nI do not profess myself to be master of this difficult and noble\nfaculty; but I do assert that I have endeavored to make myself so; and\nit is impossible that they who choose this manner of philosophizing\nshould not meet at least with something worthy their pursuit. I have\nspoken more fully on this head in another place. But as some are too\nslow of apprehension, and some too careless, men stand in perpetual\nneed of caution. For we are not people who believe that there is\nnothing whatever which is true; but we say that some falsehoods are so\nblended with all truths, and have so great a resemblance to them, that\nthere is no certain rule for judging of or assenting to propositions;\nfrom which this maxim also follows, that many things are probable,\nwhich, though they are not evident to the senses, have still so\npersuasive and beautiful an aspect that a wise man chooses to direct\nhis conduct by them.\n\nVI. Now, to free myself from the reproach of partiality, I propose to\nlay before you the opinions of various philosophers concerning the\nnature of the Gods, by which means all men may judge which of them are\nconsistent with truth; and if all agree together, or if any one shall\nbe found to have discovered what may be absolutely called truth, I will\nthen give up the Academy as vain and arrogant. So I may cry out, in the\nwords of Statius, in the Synephebi,\n\n     Ye Gods, I call upon, require, pray, beseech, entreat, and\n     implore the attention of my countrymen all, both young and\n     old;\n\nyet not on so trifling an occasion as when the person in the play\ncomplains that,\n\n     In this city we have discovered a most flagrant iniquity:\n     here is a professed courtesan, who refuses money from her\n     lover;\n\nbut that they may attend, know, and consider what sentiments they ought\nto preserve concerning religion, piety, sanctity, ceremonies, faith,\noaths, temples, shrines, and solemn sacrifices; what they ought to\nthink of the auspices over which I preside;[78] for all these have\nrelation to the present question. The manifest disagreement among the\nmost learned on this subject creates doubts in those who imagine they\nhave some certain knowledge of the subject.\n\nWhich fact I have often taken notice of elsewhere, and I did so more\nespecially at the discussion that was held at my friend C. Cotta's\nconcerning the immortal Gods, and which was carried on with the\ngreatest care, accuracy, and precision; for coming to him at the time\nof the Latin holidays,[79] according to his own invitation and message\nfrom him, I found him sitting in his study,[80] and in a discourse with\nC. Velleius, the senator, who was then reputed by the Epicureans the\nablest of our countrymen. Q. Lucilius Balbus was likewise there, a\ngreat proficient in the doctrine of the Stoics, and esteemed equal to\nthe most eminent of the Greeks in that part of knowledge. As soon as\nCotta saw me, You are come, says he, very seasonably; for I am having a\ndispute with Velleius on an important subject, which, considering the\nnature of your studies, is not improper for you to join in.\n\nVII. Indeed, says I, I think I am come very seasonably, as you say; for\nhere are three chiefs of three principal sects met together. If M.\nPiso[81] was present, no sect of philosophy that is in any esteem would\nwant an advocate. If Antiochus's book, replies Cotta, which he lately\nsent to Balbus, says true, you have no occasion to wish for your friend\nPiso; for Antiochus is of the opinion that the Stoics do not differ\nfrom the Peripatetics in fact, though they do in words; and I should be\nglad to know what you think of that book, Balbus. I? says he. I wonder\nthat Antiochus, a man of the clearest apprehension, should not see what\na vast difference there is between the Stoics, who distinguish the\nhonest and the profitable, not only in name, but absolutely in kind,\nand the Peripatetics, who blend the honest with the profitable in such\na manner that they differ only in degrees and proportion, and not in\nkind. This is not a little difference in words, but a great one in\nthings; but of this hereafter. Now, if you think fit, let us return to\nwhat we began with.\n\nWith all my heart, says Cotta. But that this visitor (looking at me),\nwho is just come in, may not be ignorant of what we are upon, I will\ninform him that we were discoursing on the nature of the Gods;\nconcerning which, as it is a subject that always appeared very obscure\nto me, I prevailed on Velleius to give us the sentiments of Epicurus.\nTherefore, continues he, if it is not troublesome, Velleius, repeat\nwhat you have already stated to us. I will, says he, though this\nnew-comer will be no advocate for me, but for you; for you have both,\nadds he, with a smile, learned from the same Philo to be certain of\nnothing.[82] What we have learned from him, replied I, Cotta will\ndiscover; but I would not have you think I am come as an assistant to\nhim, but as an auditor, with an impartial and unbiassed mind, and not\nbound by any obligation to defend any particular principle, whether I\nlike or dislike it.\n\nVIII. After this, Velleius, with the confidence peculiar to his sect,\ndreading nothing so much as to seem to doubt of anything, began as if\nhe had just then descended from the council of the Gods, and Epicurus's\nintervals of worlds. Do not attend, says he, to these idle and\nimaginary tales; nor to the operator and builder of the World, the God\nof Plato's Timaeus; nor to the old prophetic dame, the [Greek: Pronoia]\nof the Stoics, which the Latins call Providence; nor to that round,\nthat burning, revolving deity, the World, endowed with sense and\nunderstanding; the prodigies and wonders, not of inquisitive\nphilosophers, but of dreamers!\n\nFor with what eyes of the mind was your Plato able to see that\nworkhouse of such stupendous toil, in which he makes the world to be\nmodelled and built by God? What materials, what tools, what bars, what\nmachines, what servants, were employed in so vast a work? How could the\nair, fire, water, and earth pay obedience and submit to the will of the\narchitect? From whence arose those five forms,[83] of which the rest\nwere composed, so aptly contributing to frame the mind and produce the\nsenses? It is tedious to go through all, as they are of such a sort\nthat they look more like things to be desired than to be discovered.\n\nBut, what is more remarkable, he gives us a world which has been not\nonly created, but, if I may so say, in a manner formed with hands, and\nyet he says it is eternal. Do you conceive him to have the least skill\nin natural philosophy who is capable of thinking anything to be\neverlasting that had a beginning? For what can possibly ever have been\nput together which cannot be dissolved again? Or what is there that had\na beginning which will not have an end? If your Providence, Lucilius,\nis the same as Plato's God, I ask you, as before, who were the\nassistants, what were the engines, what was the plan and preparation of\nthe whole work? If it is not the same, then why did she make the world\nmortal, and not everlasting, like Plato's God?\n\nIX. But I would demand of you both, why these world-builders started up\nso suddenly, and lay dormant for so many ages? For we are not to\nconclude that, if there was no world, there were therefore no ages. I\ndo not now speak of such ages as are finished by a certain number of\ndays and nights in annual courses; for I acknowledge that those could\nnot be without the revolution of the world; but there was a certain\neternity from infinite time, not measured by any circumscription of\nseasons; but how that was in space we cannot understand, because we\ncannot possibly have even the slightest idea of time before time was. I\ndesire, therefore, to know, Balbus, why this Providence of yours was\nidle for such an immense space of time? Did she avoid labor? But that\ncould have no effect on the Deity; nor could there be any labor, since\nall nature, air, fire, earth, and water would obey the divine essence.\nWhat was it that incited the Deity to act the part of an aedile, to\nilluminate and decorate the world? If it was in order that God might be\nthe better accommodated in his habitation, then he must have been\ndwelling an infinite length of time before in darkness as in a dungeon.\nBut do we imagine that he was afterward delighted with that variety\nwith which we see the heaven and earth adorned? What entertainment\ncould that be to the Deity? If it was any, he would not have been\nwithout it so long.\n\nOr were these things made, as you almost assert, by God for the sake of\nmen? Was it for the wise? If so, then this great design was adopted for\nthe sake of a very small number. Or for the sake of fools? First of\nall, there was no reason why God should consult the advantage of the\nwicked; and, further, what could be his object in doing so, since all\nfools are, without doubt, the most miserable of men, chiefly because\nthey are fools? For what can we pronounce more deplorable than folly?\nBesides, there are many inconveniences in life which the wise can learn\nto think lightly of by dwelling rather on the advantages which they\nreceive; but which fools are unable to avoid when they are coming, or\nto bear when they are come.\n\nX. They who affirm the world to be an animated and intelligent being\nhave by no means discovered the nature of the mind, nor are able to\nconceive in what form that essence can exist; but of that I shall speak\nmore hereafter. At present I must express my surprise at the weakness\nof those who endeavor to make it out to be not only animated and\nimmortal, but likewise happy, and round, because Plato says that is the\nmost beautiful form; whereas I think a cylinder, a square, a cone, or a\npyramid more beautiful. But what life do they attribute to that round\nDeity? Truly it is a being whirled about with a celerity to which\nnothing can be even conceived by the imagination as equal; nor can I\nimagine how a settled mind and happy life can consist in such motion,\nthe least degree of which would be troublesome to us. Why, therefore,\nshould it not be considered troublesome also to the Deity? For the\nearth itself, as it is part of the world, is part also of the Deity. We\nsee vast tracts of land barren and uninhabitable; some, because they\nare scorched by the too near approach of the sun; others, because they\nare bound up with frost and snow, through the great distance which the\nsun is from them. Therefore, if the world is a Deity, as these are\nparts of the world, some of the Deity's limbs must be said to be\nscorched, and some frozen.\n\nThese are your doctrines, Lucilius; but what those of others are I will\nendeavor to ascertain by tracing them back from the earliest of ancient\nphilosophers. Thales the Milesian, who first inquired after such\nsubjects, asserted water to be the origin of things, and that God was\nthat mind which formed all things from water. If the Gods can exist\nwithout corporeal sense, and if there can be a mind without a body, why\ndid he annex a mind to water?\n\nIt was Anaximander's opinion that the Gods were born; that after a\ngreat length of time they died; and that they are innumerable worlds.\nBut what conception can we possibly have of a Deity who is not eternal?\n\nAnaximenes, after him, taught that the air is God, and that he was\ngenerated, and that he is immense, infinite, and always in motion; as\nif air, which has no form, could possibly be God; for the Deity must\nnecessarily be not only of some form or other, but of the most\nbeautiful form. Besides, is not everything that had a beginning subject\nto mortality?\n\nXI. Anaxagoras, who received his learning from Anaximenes, was the\nfirst who affirmed the system and disposition of all things to be\ncontrived and perfected by the power and reason of an infinite mind; in\nwhich infinity he did not perceive that there could be no conjunction\nof sense and motion, nor any sense in the least degree, where nature\nherself could feel no impulse. If he would have this mind to be a sort\nof animal, then there must be some more internal principle from whence\nthat animal should receive its appellation. But what can be more\ninternal than the mind? Let it, therefore, be clothed with an external\nbody. But this is not agreeable to his doctrine; but we are utterly\nunable to conceive how a pure simple mind can exist without any\nsubstance annexed to it.\n\nAlcmaeon of Crotona, in attributing a divinity to the sun, the moon, and\nthe rest of the stars, and also to the mind, did not perceive that he\nwas ascribing immortality to mortal beings.\n\nPythagoras, who supposed the Deity to be one soul, mixing with and\npervading all nature, from which our souls are taken, did not consider\nthat the Deity himself must, in consequence of this doctrine, be maimed\nand torn with the rending every human soul from it; nor that, when the\nhuman mind is afflicted (as is the case in many instances), that part\nof the Deity must likewise be afflicted, which cannot be. If the human\nmind were a Deity, how could it be ignorant of any thing? Besides, how\ncould that Deity, if it is nothing but soul, be mixed with, or infused\ninto, the world?\n\nThen Xenophanes, who said that everything in the world which had any\nexistence, with the addition of intellect, was God, is as liable to\nexception as the rest, especially in relation to the infinity of it, in\nwhich there can be nothing sentient, nothing composite.\n\nParmenides formed a conceit to himself of something circular like a\ncrown. (He names it Stephane.) It is an orb of constant light and heat\naround the heavens; this he calls God; in which there is no room to\nimagine any divine form or sense. And he uttered many other absurdities\non the same subject; for he ascribed a divinity to war, to discord, to\nlust, and other passions of the same kind, which are destroyed by\ndisease, or sleep, or oblivion, or age. The same honor he gives to the\nstars; but I shall forbear making any objections to his system here,\nhaving already done it in another place.\n\nXII. Empedocles, who erred in many things, is most grossly mistaken in\nhis notion of the Gods. He lays down four natures[84] as divine, from\nwhich he thinks that all things were made. Yet it is evident that they\nhave a beginning, that they decay, and that they are void of all sense.\n\nProtagoras did not seem to have any idea of the real nature of the\nGods; for he acknowledged that he was altogether ignorant whether there\nare or are not any, or what they are.\n\nWhat shall I say of Democritus, who classes our images of objects, and\ntheir orbs, in the number of the Gods; as he does that principle\nthrough which those images appear and have their influence? He deifies\nlikewise our knowledge and understanding. Is he not involved in a very\ngreat error? And because nothing continues always in the same state, he\ndenies that anything is everlasting, does he not thereby entirely\ndestroy the Deity, and make it impossible to form any opinion of him?\n\nDiogenes of Apollonia looks upon the air to be a Deity. But what sense\ncan the air have? or what divine form can be attributed to it?\n\nIt would be tedious to show the uncertainty of Plato's opinion; for, in\nhis Timaeus, he denies the propriety of asserting that there is one\ngreat father or creator of the world; and, in his book of Laws, he\nthinks we ought not to make too strict an inquiry into the nature of\nthe Deity. And as for his statement when he asserts that God is a being\nwithout any body--what the Greeks call [Greek: asomatos]--it is\ncertainly quite unintelligible how that theory can possibly be true;\nfor such a God must then necessarily be destitute of sense, prudence,\nand pleasure; all which things are comprehended in our notion of the\nGods. He likewise asserts in his Timaeus, and in his Laws, that the\nworld, the heavens, the stars, the mind, and those Gods which are\ndelivered down to us from our ancestors, constitute the Deity. These\nopinions, taken separately, are apparently false; and, together, are\ndirectly inconsistent with each other.\n\nXenophon has committed almost the same mistakes, but in fewer words. In\nthose sayings which he has related of Socrates, he introduces him\ndisputing the lawfulness of inquiring into the form of the Deity, and\nmakes him assert the sun and the mind to be Deities: he represents him\nlikewise as affirming the being of one God only, and at another time of\nmany; which are errors of almost the same kind which I before took\nnotice of in Plato.\n\nXIII. Antisthenes, in his book called the Natural Philosopher, says\nthat there are many national and one natural Deity; but by this saying\nhe destroys the power and nature of the Gods. Speusippus is not much\nless in the wrong; who, following his uncle Plato, says that a certain\nincorporeal power governs everything; by which he endeavors to root out\nof our minds the knowledge of the Gods.\n\nAristotle, in his third book of Philosophy, confounds many things\ntogether, as the rest have done; but he does not differ from his master\nPlato. At one time he attributes all divinity to the mind, at another\nhe asserts that the world is God. Soon afterward he makes some other\nessence preside over the world, and gives it those faculties by which,\nwith certain revolutions, he may govern and preserve the motion of it.\nThen he asserts the heat of the firmament to be God; not perceiving the\nfirmament to be part of the world, which in another place he had\ndescribed as God. How can that divine sense of the firmament be\npreserved in so rapid a motion? And where do the multitude of Gods\ndwell, if heaven itself is a Deity? But when this philosopher says that\nGod is without a body, he makes him an irrational and insensible being.\nBesides, how can the world move itself, if it wants a body? Or how, if\nit is in perpetual self-motion, can it be easy and happy?\n\nXenocrates, his fellow-pupil, does not appear much wiser on this head,\nfor in his books concerning the nature of the Gods no divine form is\ndescribed; but he says the number of them is eight. Five are moving\nplanets;[85] the sixth is contained in all the fixed stars; which,\ndispersed, are so many several members, but, considered together, are\none single Deity; the seventh is the sun; and the eighth the moon. But\nin what sense they can possibly be happy is not easy to be understood.\n\nFrom the same school of Plato, Heraclides of Pontus stuffed his books\nwith puerile tales. Sometimes he thinks the world a Deity, at other\ntimes the mind. He attributes divinity likewise to the wandering stars.\nHe deprives the Deity of sense, and makes his form mutable; and, in the\nsame book again, he makes earth and heaven Deities.\n\nThe unsteadiness of Theophrastus is equally intolerable. At one time he\nattributes a divine prerogative to the mind; at another, to the\nfirmament; at another, to the stars and celestial constellations.\n\nNor is his disciple Strato, who is called the naturalist, any more\nworthy to be regarded; for he thinks that the divine power is diffused\nthrough nature, which is the cause of birth, increase, and diminution,\nbut that it has no sense nor form.\n\nXIV. Zeno (to come to your sect, Balbus) thinks the law of nature to be\nthe divinity, and that it has the power to force us to what is right,\nand to restrain us from what is wrong. How this law can be an animated\nbeing I cannot conceive; but that God is so we would certainly\nmaintain. The same person says, in another place, that the sky is God;\nbut can we possibly conceive that God is a being insensible, deaf to\nour prayers, our wishes, and our vows, and wholly unconnected with us?\nIn other books he thinks there is a certain rational essence pervading\nall nature, indued with divine efficacy. He attributes the same power\nto the stars, to the years, to the months, and to the seasons. In his\ninterpretation of Hesiod's Theogony,[86] he entirely destroys the\nestablished notions of the Gods; for he excludes Jupiter, Juno, and\nVesta, and those esteemed divine, from the number of them; but his\ndoctrine is that these are names which by some kind of allusion are\ngiven to mute and inanimate beings. The sentiments of his disciple\nAristo are not less erroneous. He thought it impossible to conceive the\nform of the Deity, and asserts that the Gods are destitute of sense;\nand he is entirely dubious whether the Deity is an animated being or\nnot.\n\nCleanthes, who next comes under my notice, a disciple of Zeno at the\nsame time with Aristo, in one place says that the world is God; in\nanother, he attributes divinity to the mind and spirit of universal\nnature; then he asserts that the most remote, the highest, the\nall-surrounding, the all-enclosing and embracing heat, which is called\nthe sky, is most certainly the Deity. In the books he wrote against\npleasure, in which he seems to be raving, he imagines the Gods to have\na certain form and shape; then he ascribes all divinity to the stars;\nand, lastly, he thinks nothing more divine than reason. So that this\nGod, whom we know mentally and in the speculations of our minds, from\nwhich traces we receive our impression, has at last actually no visible\nform at all.\n\nXV. Persaeus, another disciple of Zeno, says that they who have made\ndiscoveries advantageous to the life of man should be esteemed as Gods;\nand the very things, he says, which are healthful and beneficial have\nderived their names from those of the Gods; so that he thinks it not\nsufficient to call them the discoveries of Gods, but he urges that they\nthemselves should be deemed divine. What can be more absurd than to\nascribe divine honors to sordid and deformed things; or to place among\nthe Gods men who are dead and mixed with the dust, to whose memory all\nthe respect that could be paid would be but mourning for their loss?\n\nChrysippus, who is looked upon as the most subtle interpreter of the\ndreams of the Stoics, has mustered up a numerous band of unknown Gods;\nand so unknown that we are not able to form any idea about them, though\nour mind seems capable of framing any image to itself in its thoughts.\nFor he says that the divine power is placed in reason, and in the\nspirit and mind of universal nature; that the world, with a universal\neffusion of its spirit, is God; that the superior part of that spirit,\nwhich is the mind and reason, is the great principle of nature,\ncontaining and preserving the chain of all things; that the divinity is\nthe power of fate, and the necessity of future events. He deifies fire\nalso, and what I before called the ethereal spirit, and those elements\nwhich naturally proceed from it--water, earth, and air. He attributes\ndivinity to the sun, moon, stars, and universal space, the grand\ncontainer of all things, and to those men likewise who have obtained\nimmortality. He maintains the sky to be what men call Jupiter; the air,\nwhich pervades the sea, to be Neptune; and the earth, Ceres. In like\nmanner he goes through the names of the other Deities. He says that\nJupiter is that immutable and eternal law which guides and directs us\nin our manners; and this he calls fatal necessity, the everlasting\nverity of future events. But none of these are of such a nature as to\nseem to carry any indication of divine virtue in them. These are the\ndoctrines contained in his first book of the Nature of the Gods. In the\nsecond, he endeavors to accommodate the fables of Orpheus, Musaeus,\nHesiod, and Homer to what he has advanced in the first, in order that\nthe most ancient poets, who never dreamed of these things, may seem to\nhave been Stoics. Diogenes the Babylonian was a follower of the\ndoctrine of Chrysippus; and in that book which he wrote, entitled \"A\nTreatise concerning Minerva,\" he separates the account of Jupiter's\nbringing-forth, and the birth of that virgin, from the fabulous, and\nreduces it to a natural construction.\n\nXVI. Thus far have I been rather exposing the dreams of dotards than\ngiving the opinions of philosophers. Not much more absurd than these\nare the fables of the poets, who owe all their power of doing harm to\nthe sweetness of their language; who have represented the Gods as\nenraged with anger and inflamed with lust; who have brought before our\neyes their wars, battles, combats, wounds; their hatreds, dissensions,\ndiscords, births, deaths, complaints, and lamentations; their\nindulgences in all kinds of intemperance; their adulteries; their\nchains; their amours with mortals, and mortals begotten by immortals.\nTo these idle and ridiculous flights of the poets we may add the\nprodigious stories invented by the Magi, and by the Egyptians also,\nwhich were of the same nature, together with the extravagant notions of\nthe multitude at all times, who, from total ignorance of the truth, are\nalways fluctuating in uncertainty.\n\nNow, whoever reflects on the rashness and absurdity of these tenets\nmust inevitably entertain the highest respect and veneration for\nEpicurus, and perhaps even rank him in the number of those beings who\nare the subject of this dispute; for he alone first founded the idea of\nthe existence of the Gods on the impression which nature herself hath\nmade on the minds of all men. For what nation, what people are there,\nwho have not, without any learning, a natural idea, or prenotion, of a\nDeity? Epicurus calls this [Greek: prolepsis]; that is, an antecedent\nconception of the fact in the mind, without which nothing can be\nunderstood, inquired after, or discoursed on; the force and advantage\nof which reasoning we receive from that celestial volume of Epicurus\nconcerning the Rule and Judgment of Things.\n\nXVII. Here, then, you see the foundation of this question clearly laid;\nfor since it is the constant and universal opinion of mankind,\nindependent of education, custom, or law, that there are Gods, it must\nnecessarily follow that this knowledge is implanted in our minds, or,\nrather, innate in us. That opinion respecting which there is a general\nagreement in universal nature must infallibly be true; therefore it\nmust be allowed that there are Gods; for in this we have the\nconcurrence, not only of almost all philosophers, but likewise of the\nignorant and illiterate. It must be also confessed that the point is\nestablished that we have naturally this idea, as I said before, or\nprenotion, of the existence of the Gods. As new things require new\nnames, so that prenotion was called [Greek: prolepsis] by Epicurus; an\nappellation never used before. On the same principle of reasoning, we\nthink that the Gods are happy and immortal; for that nature which hath\nassured us that there are Gods has likewise imprinted in our minds the\nknowledge of their immortality and felicity; and if so, what Epicurus\nhath declared in these words is true: \"That which is eternally happy\ncannot be burdened with any labor itself, nor can it impose any labor\non another; nor can it be influenced by resentment or favor: because\nthings which are liable to such feelings must be weak and frail.\" We\nhave said enough to prove that we should worship the Gods with piety,\nand without superstition, if that were the only question.\n\nFor the superior and excellent nature of the Gods requires a pious\nadoration from men, because it is possessed of immortality and the most\nexalted felicity; for whatever excels has a right to veneration, and\nall fear of the power and anger of the Gods should be banished; for we\nmust understand that anger and affection are inconsistent with the\nnature of a happy and immortal being. These apprehensions being\nremoved, no dread of the superior powers remains. To confirm this\nopinion, our curiosity leads us to inquire into the form and life and\naction of the intellect and spirit of the Deity.\n\nXVIII. With regard to his form, we are directed partly by nature and\npartly by reason. All men are told by nature that none but a human form\ncan be ascribed to the Gods; for under what other image did it ever\nappear to any one either sleeping or waking? and, without having\nrecourse to our first notions,[87] reason itself declares the same; for\nas it is easy to conceive that the most excellent nature, either\nbecause of its happiness or immortality, should be the most beautiful,\nwhat composition of limbs, what conformation of lineaments, what form,\nwhat aspect, can be more beautiful than the human? Your sect, Lucilius\n(not like my friend Cotta, who sometimes says one thing and sometimes\nanother), when they represent the divine art and workmanship in the\nhuman body, are used to describe how very completely each member is\nformed, not only for convenience, but also for beauty. Therefore, if\nthe human form excels that of all other animal beings, as God himself\nis an animated being, he must surely be of that form which is the most\nbeautiful. Besides, the Gods are granted to be perfectly happy; and\nnobody can be happy without virtue, nor can virtue exist where reason\nis not; and reason can reside in none but the human form; the Gods,\ntherefore, must be acknowledged to be of human form; yet that form is\nnot body, but something like body; nor does it contain any blood, but\nsomething like blood. Though these distinctions were more acutely\ndevised and more artfully expressed by Epicurus than any common\ncapacity can comprehend; yet, depending on your understanding, I shall\nbe more brief on the subject than otherwise I should be. Epicurus, who\nnot only discovered and understood the occult and almost hidden secrets\nof nature, but explained them with ease, teaches that the power and\nnature of the Gods is not to be discerned by the senses, but by the\nmind; nor are they to be considered as bodies of any solidity, or\nreducible to number, like those things which, because of their\nfirmness, he calls [Greek: Steremnia];[88] but as images, perceived by\nsimilitude and transition. As infinite kinds of those images result\nfrom innumerable individuals, and centre in the Gods, our minds and\nunderstanding are directed towards and fixed with the greatest delight\non them, in order to comprehend what that happy and eternal essence is.\n\nXIX. Surely the mighty power of the Infinite Being is most worthy our\ngreat and earnest contemplation; the nature of which we must\nnecessarily understand to be such that everything in it is made to\ncorrespond completely to some other answering part. This is called by\nEpicurus [Greek: isonomia]; that is to say, an equal distribution or\neven disposition of things. From hence he draws this inference, that,\nas there is such a vast multitude of mortals, there cannot be a less\nnumber of immortals; and if those which perish are innumerable, those\nwhich are preserved ought also to be countless. Your sect, Balbus,\nfrequently ask us how the Gods live, and how they pass their time?\nTheir life is the most happy, and the most abounding with all kinds of\nblessings, which can be conceived. They do nothing. They are\nembarrassed with no business; nor do they perform any work. They\nrejoice in the possession of their own wisdom and virtue. They are\nsatisfied that they shall ever enjoy the fulness of eternal pleasures.\n\nXX. Such a Deity may properly be called happy; but yours is a most\nlaborious God. For let us suppose the world a Deity--what can be a more\nuneasy state than, without the least cessation, to be whirled about the\naxle-tree of heaven with a surprising celerity? But nothing can be\nhappy that is not at ease. Or let us suppose a Deity residing in the\nworld, who directs and governs it, who preserves the courses of the\nstars, the changes of the seasons, and the vicissitudes and orders of\nthings, surveying the earth and the sea, and accommodating them to the\nadvantage and necessities of man. Truly this Deity is embarrassed with\na very troublesome and laborious office. We make a happy life to\nconsist in a tranquillity of mind, a perfect freedom from care, and an\nexemption from all employment. The philosopher from whom we received\nall our knowledge has taught us that the world was made by nature; that\nthere was no occasion for a workhouse to frame it in; and that, though\nyou deny the possibility of such a work without divine skill, it is so\neasy to her, that she has made, does make, and will make innumerable\nworlds. But, because you do not conceive that nature is able to produce\nsuch effects without some rational aid, you are forced, like the tragic\npoets, when you cannot wind up your argument in any other way, to have\nrecourse to a Deity, whose assistance you would not seek, if you could\nview that vast and unbounded magnitude of regions in all parts; where\nthe mind, extending and spreading itself, travels so far and wide that\nit can find no end, no extremity to stop at. In this immensity of\nbreadth, length, and height, a most boundless company of innumerable\natoms are fluttering about, which, notwithstanding the interposition of\na void space, meet and cohere, and continue clinging to one another;\nand by this union these modifications and forms of things arise, which,\nin your opinions, could not possibly be made without the help of\nbellows and anvils. Thus you have imposed on us an eternal master, whom\nwe must dread day and night. For who can be free from fear of a Deity\nwho foresees, regards, and takes notice of everything; one who thinks\nall things his own; a curious, ever-busy God?\n\nHence first arose your [Greek: Heimarmene], as you call it, your fatal\nnecessity; so that, whatever happens, you affirm that it flows from an\neternal chain and continuance of causes. Of what value is this\nphilosophy, which, like old women and illiterate men, attributes\neverything to fate? Then follows your [Greek: mantike], in Latin called\n_divinatio_, divination; which, if we would listen to you, would plunge\nus into such superstition that we should fall down and worship your\ninspectors into sacrifices, your augurs, your soothsayers, your\nprophets, and your fortune-tellers.\n\nEpicurus having freed us from these terrors and restored us to liberty,\nwe have no dread of those beings whom we have reason to think entirely\nfree from all trouble themselves, and who do not impose any on others.\nWe pay our adoration, indeed, with piety and reverence to that essence\nwhich is above all excellence and perfection. But I fear my zeal for\nthis doctrine has made me too prolix. However, I could not easily leave\nso eminent and important a subject unfinished, though I must confess I\nshould rather endeavor to hear than speak so long.\n\nXXI. Cotta, with his usual courtesy, then began. Velleius, says he,\nwere it not for something which you have advanced, I should have\nremained silent; for I have often observed, as I did just now upon\nhearing you, that I cannot so easily conceive why a proposition is true\nas why it is false. Should you ask me what I take the nature of the\nGods to be, I should perhaps make no answer. But if you should ask\nwhether I think it to be of that nature which you have described, I\nshould answer that I was as far as possible from agreeing with you.\nHowever, before I enter on the subject of your discourse and what you\nhave advanced upon it, I will give you my opinion of yourself. Your\nintimate friend, L. Crassus, has been often heard by me to say that you\nwere beyond all question superior to all our learned Romans; and that\nfew Epicureans in Greece were to be compared to you. But as I knew what\na wonderful esteem he had for you, I imagined that might make him the\nmore lavish in commendation of you. Now, however, though I do not\nchoose to praise any one when present, yet I must confess that I think\nyou have delivered your thoughts clearly on an obscure and very\nintricate subject; that you are not only copious in your sentiments,\nbut more elegant in your language than your sect generally are. When I\nwas at Athens, I went often to hear Zeno, by the advice of Philo, who\nused to call him the chief of the Epicureans; partly, probably, in\norder to judge more easily how completely those principles could be\nrefuted after I had heard them stated by the most learned of the\nEpicureans. And, indeed, he did not speak in any ordinary manner; but,\nlike you, with clearness, gravity, and elegance; yet what frequently\ngave me great uneasiness when I heard him, as it did while I attended\nto you, was to see so excellent a genius falling into such frivolous\n(excuse my freedom), not to say foolish, doctrines. However, I shall\nnot at present offer anything better; for, as I said before, we can in\nmost subjects, especially in physics, sooner discover what is not true\nthan what is.\n\nXXII. If you should ask me what God is, or what his character and\nnature are, I should follow the example of Simonides, who, when Hiero\nthe tyrant proposed the same question to him, desired a day to consider\nof it. When he required his answer the next day, Simonides begged two\ndays more; and as he kept constantly desiring double the number which\nhe had required before instead of giving his answer, Hiero, with\nsurprise, asked him his meaning in doing so: \"Because,\" says he, \"the\nlonger I meditate on it, the more obscure it appears to me.\" Simonides,\nwho was not only a delightful poet, but reputed a wise and learned man\nin other branches of knowledge, found, I suppose, so many acute and\nrefined arguments occurring to him, that he was doubtful which was the\ntruest, and therefore despaired of discovering any truth.\n\nBut does your Epicurus (for I had rather contend with him than with\nyou) say anything that is worthy the name of philosophy, or even of\ncommon-sense?\n\nIn the question concerning the nature of the Gods, his first inquiry\nis, whether there are Gods or not. It would be dangerous, I believe, to\ntake the negative side before a public auditory; but it is very safe in\na discourse of this kind, and in this company. I, who am a priest, and\nwho think that religions and ceremonies ought sacredly to be\nmaintained, am certainly desirous to have the existence of the Gods,\nwhich is the principal point in debate, not only fixed in opinion, but\nproved to a demonstration; for many notions flow into and disturb the\nmind which sometimes seem to convince us that there are none. But see\nhow candidly I will behave to you: as I shall not touch upon those\ntenets you hold in common with other philosophers, consequently I shall\nnot dispute the existence of the Gods, for that doctrine is agreeable\nto almost all men, and to myself in particular; but I am still at\nliberty to find fault with the reasons you give for it, which I think\nare very insufficient.\n\nXXIII. You have said that the general assent of men of all nations and\nall degrees is an argument strong enough to induce us to acknowledge\nthe being of the Gods. This is not only a weak, but a false, argument;\nfor, first of all, how do you know the opinions of all nations? I\nreally believe there are many people so savage that they have no\nthoughts of a Deity. What think you of Diagoras, who was called the\natheist; and of Theodorus after him? Did not they plainly deny the very\nessence of a Deity? Protagoras of Abdera, whom you just now mentioned,\nthe greatest sophist of his age, was banished by order of the Athenians\nfrom their city and territories, and his books were publicly burned,\nbecause these words were in the beginning of his treatise concerning\nthe Gods: \"I am unable to arrive at any knowledge whether there are, or\nare not, any Gods.\" This treatment of him, I imagine, restrained many\nfrom professing their disbelief of a Deity, since the doubt of it only\ncould not escape punishment. What shall we say of the sacrilegious, the\nimpious, and the perjured? If Tubulus Lucius, Lupus, or Carbo the son\nof Neptune, as Lucilius says, had believed that there were Gods, would\neither of them have carried his perjuries and impieties to such excess?\nYour reasoning, therefore, to confirm your assertion is not so\nconclusive as you think it is. But as this is the manner in which other\nphilosophers have argued on the same subject, I will take no further\nnotice of it at present; I rather choose to proceed to what is properly\nyour own.\n\nI allow that there are Gods. Instruct me, then, concerning their\norigin; inform me where they are, what sort of body, what mind, they\nhave, and what is their course of life; for these I am desirous of\nknowing. You attribute the most absolute power and efficacy to atoms.\nOut of them you pretend that everything is made. But there are no\natoms, for there is nothing without body; every place is occupied by\nbody, therefore there can be no such thing as a vacuum or an atom.\n\nXXIV. I advance these principles of the naturalists without knowing\nwhether they are true or false; yet they are more like truth than those\nstatements of yours; for they are the absurdities in which Democritus,\nor before him Leucippus, used to indulge, saying that there are certain\nlight corpuscles--some smooth, some rough, some round, some square,\nsome crooked and bent as bows--which by a fortuitous concourse made\nheaven and earth, without the influence of any natural power. This\nopinion, C. Velleius, you have brought down to these our times; and you\nwould sooner be deprived of the greatest advantages of life than of\nthat authority; for before you were acquainted with those tenets, you\nthought that you ought to profess yourself an Epicurean; so that it was\nnecessary that you should either embrace these absurdities or lose the\nphilosophical character which you had taken upon you; and what could\nbribe you to renounce the Epicurean opinion? Nothing, you say, can\nprevail on you to forsake the truth and the sure means of a happy life.\nBut is that the truth? for I shall not contest your happy life, which\nyou think the Deity himself does not enjoy unless he languishes in\nidleness. But where is truth? Is it in your innumerable worlds, some of\nwhich are rising, some falling, at every moment of time? Or is it in\nyour atomical corpuscles, which form such excellent works without the\ndirection of any natural power or reason? But I was forgetting my\nliberality, which I had promised to exert in your case, and exceeding\nthe bounds which I at first proposed to myself. Granting, then,\neverything to be made of atoms, what advantage is that to your\nargument? For we are searching after the nature of the Gods; and\nallowing them to be made of atoms, they cannot be eternal, because\nwhatever is made of atoms must have had a beginning: if so, there were\nno Gods till there was this beginning; and if the Gods have had a\nbeginning, they must necessarily have an end, as you have before\ncontended when you were discussing Plato's world. Where, then, is your\nbeatitude and immortality, in which two words you say that God is\nexpressed, the endeavor to prove which reduces you to the greatest\nperplexities? For you said that God had no body, but something like\nbody; and no blood, but something like blood.\n\nXXV. It is a frequent practice among you, when you assert anything that\nhas no resemblance to truth, and wish to avoid reprehension, to advance\nsomething else which is absolutely and utterly impossible, in order\nthat it may seem to your adversaries better to grant that point which\nhas been a matter of doubt than to keep on pertinaciously contradicting\nyou on every point: like Epicurus, who, when he found that if his atoms\nwere allowed to descend by their own weight, our actions could not be\nin our own power, because their motions would be certain and necessary,\ninvented an expedient, which escaped Democritus, to avoid necessity. He\nsays that when the atoms descend by their own weight and gravity, they\nmove a little obliquely. Surely, to make such an assertion as this is\nwhat one ought more to be ashamed of than the acknowledging ourselves\nunable to defend the proposition. His practice is the same against the\nlogicians, who say that in all propositions in which yes or no is\nrequired, one of them must be true; he was afraid that if this were\ngranted, then, in such a proposition as \"Epicurus will be alive or dead\nto-morrow,\" either one or the other must necessarily be admitted;\ntherefore he absolutely denied the necessity of yes or no. Can anything\nshow stupidity in a greater degree? Zeno,[89] being pressed by\nArcesilas, who pronounced all things to be false which are perceived by\nthe senses, said that some things were false, but not all. Epicurus was\nafraid that if any one thing seen should be false, nothing could be\ntrue; and therefore he asserted all the senses to be infallible\ndirectors of truth. Nothing can be more rash than this; for by\nendeavoring to repel a light stroke, he receives a heavy blow. On the\nsubject of the nature of the Gods, he falls into the same errors. While\nhe would avoid the concretion of individual bodies, lest death and\ndissolution should be the consequence, he denies that the Gods have\nbody, but says they have something like body; and says they have no\nblood, but something like blood.\n\nXXVI. It seems an unaccountable thing how one soothsayer can refrain\nfrom laughing when he sees another. It is yet a greater wonder that you\ncan refrain from laughing among yourselves. It is no body, but\nsomething like body! I could understand this if it were applied to\nstatues made of wax or clay; but in regard to the Deity, I am not able\nto discover what is meant by a quasi-body or quasi-blood. Nor indeed\nare you, Velleius, though you will not confess so much. For those\nprecepts are delivered to you as dictates which Epicurus carelessly\nblundered out; for he boasted, as we see in his writings, that he had\nno instructor, which I could easily believe without his public\ndeclaration of it, for the same reason that I could believe the master\nof a very bad edifice if he were to boast that he had no architect but\nhimself: for there is nothing of the Academy, nothing of the Lyceum, in\nhis doctrine; nothing but puerilities. He might have been a pupil of\nXenocrates. O ye immortal Gods, what a teacher was he! And there are\nthose who believe that he actually was his pupil; but he says\notherwise, and I shall give more credit to his word than to another's.\nHe confesses that he was a pupil of a certain disciple of Plato, one\nPamphilus, at Samos; for he lived there when he was young, with his\nfather and his brothers. His father, Neocles, was a farmer in those\nparts; but as the farm, I suppose, was not sufficient to maintain him,\nhe turned school-master; yet Epicurus treats this Platonic philosopher\nwith wonderful contempt, so fearful was he that it should be thought he\nhad ever had any instruction. But it is well known he had been a pupil\nof Nausiphanes, the follower of Democritus; and since he could not deny\nit, he loaded him with insults in abundance. If he never heard a\nlecture on these Democritean principles, what lectures did he ever\nhear? What is there in Epicurus's physics that is not taken from\nDemocritus? For though he altered some things, as what I mentioned\nbefore of the oblique motions of the atoms, yet most of his doctrines\nare the same; his atoms--his vacuum--his images--infinity of\nspace--innumerable worlds, their rise and decay--and almost every part\nof natural learning that he treats of.\n\nNow, do you understand what is meant by quasi-body and quasi-blood? For\nI not only acknowledge that you are a better judge of it than I am, but\nI can bear it without envy. If any sentiments, indeed, are communicated\nwithout obscurity, what is there that Velleius can understand and Cotta\nnot? I know what body is, and what blood is; but I cannot possibly find\nout the meaning of quasi-body and quasi-blood. Not that you\nintentionally conceal your principles from me, as Pythagoras did his\nfrom those who were not his disciples; or that you are intentionally\nobscure, like Heraclitus. But the truth is (which I may venture to say\nin this company), you do not understand them yourself.\n\nXXVII. This, I perceive, is what you contend for, that the Gods have a\ncertain figure that has nothing concrete, nothing solid, nothing of\nexpress substance, nothing prominent in it; but that it is pure,\nsmooth, and transparent. Let us suppose the same with the Venus of Cos,\nwhich is not a body, but the representation of a body; nor is the red,\nwhich is drawn there and mixed with the white, real blood, but a\ncertain resemblance of blood; so in Epicurus's Deity there is no real\nsubstance, but the resemblance of substance.\n\nLet me take for granted that which is perfectly unintelligible; then\ntell me what are the lineaments and figures of these sketched-out\nDeities. Here you have plenty of arguments by which you would show the\nGods to be in human form. The first is, that our minds are so\nanticipated and prepossessed, that whenever we think of a Deity the\nhuman shape occurs to us. The next is, that as the divine nature excels\nall things, so it ought to be of the most beautiful form, and there is\nno form more beautiful than the human; and the third is, that reason\ncannot reside in any other shape.\n\nFirst, let us consider each argument separately. You seem to me to\nassume a principle, despotically I may say, that has no manner of\nprobability in it. Who was ever so blind, in contemplating these\nsubjects, as not to see that the Gods were represented in human form,\neither by the particular advice of wise men, who thought by those means\nthe more easily to turn the minds of the ignorant from a depravity of\nmanners to the worship of the Gods; or through superstition, which was\nthe cause of their believing that when they were paying adoration to\nthese images they were approaching the Gods themselves. These conceits\nwere not a little improved by the poets, painters, and artificers; for\nit would not have been very easy to represent the Gods planning and\nexecuting any work in another form, and perhaps this opinion arose from\nthe idea which mankind have of their own beauty. But do not you, who\nare so great an adept in physics, see what a soothing flatterer, what a\nsort of procuress, nature is to herself? Do you think there is any\ncreature on the land or in the sea that is not highly delighted with\nits own form? If it were not so, why would not a bull become enamored\nof a mare, or a horse of a cow? Do you believe an eagle, a lion, or a\ndolphin prefers any shape to its own? If nature, therefore, has\ninstructed us in the same manner, that nothing is more beautiful than\nman, what wonder is it that we, for that reason, should imagine the\nGods are of the human form? Do you suppose if beasts were endowed with\nreason that every one would not give the prize of beauty to his own\nspecies?\n\nXXVIII. Yet, by Hercules (I speak as I think)! though I am fond enough\nof myself, I dare not say that I excel in beauty that bull which\ncarried Europa. For the question here is not concerning our genius and\nelocution, but our species and figure. If we could make and assume to\nourselves any form, would you be unwilling to resemble the sea-triton\nas he is painted supported swimming on sea-monsters whose bodies are\npartly human? Here I touch on a difficult point; for so great is the\nforce of nature that there is no man who would not choose to be like a\nman, nor, indeed, any ant that would not be like an ant. But like what\nman? For how few can pretend to beauty! When I was at Athens, the whole\nflock of youths afforded scarcely one. You laugh, I see; but what I\ntell you is the truth. Nay, to us who, after the examples of ancient\nphilosophers, delight in boys, defects are often pleasing. Alcaeus was\ncharmed with a wart on a boy's knuckle; but a wart is a blemish on the\nbody; yet it seemed a beauty to him. Q. Catulus, my friend and\ncolleague's father, was enamored with your fellow-citizen Roscius, on\nwhom he wrote these verses:\n\n    As once I stood to hail the rising day,\n      Roscius appearing on the left I spied:\n    Forgive me, Gods, if I presume to say\n      The mortal's beauty with th' immortal vied.\n\nRoscius more beautiful than a God! yet he was then, as he now is,\nsquint-eyed. But what signifies that, if his defects were beauties to\nCatulus?\n\nXXIX. I return to the Gods. Can we suppose any of them to be\nsquint-eyed, or even to have a cast in the eye? Have they any warts?\nAre any of them hook-nosed, flap-eared, beetle-browed, or jolt-headed,\nas some of us are? Or are they free from imperfections? Let us grant\nyou that. Are they all alike in the face? For if they are many, then\none must necessarily be more beautiful than another, and then there\nmust be some Deity not absolutely most beautiful. Or if their faces are\nall alike, there would be an Academy[90] in heaven; for if one God does\nnot differ from another, there is no possibility of knowing or\ndistinguishing them.\n\nWhat if your assertion, Velleius, proves absolutely false, that no form\noccurs to us, in our contemplations on the Deity, but the human? Will\nyou, notwithstanding that, persist in the defence of such an absurdity?\nSupposing that form occurs to us, as you say it does, and we know\nJupiter, Juno, Minerva, Neptune, Vulcan, Apollo, and the other Deities,\nby the countenance which painters and statuaries have given them, and\nnot only by their countenances, but by their decorations, their age,\nand attire; yet the Egyptians, the Syrians, and almost all barbarous\nnations,[91] are without such distinctions. You may see a greater\nregard paid by them to certain beasts than by us to the most sacred\ntemples and images of the Gods; for many shrines have been rifled, and\nimages of the Deities have been carried from their most sacred places\nby us; but we never heard that an Egyptian offered any violence to a\ncrocodile, an ibis, or a cat. What do you think, then? Do not the\nEgyptians esteem their sacred bull, their Apis, as a Deity? Yes, by\nHercules! as certainly as you do our protectress Juno, whom you never\nbehold, even in your dreams, without a goat-skin, a spear, a shield,\nand broad sandals. But the Grecian Juno of Argos and the Roman Juno are\nnot represented in this manner; so that the Grecians, the Lanuvinians,\nand we, ascribe different forms to Juno; and our Capitoline Jupiter is\nnot the same with the Jupiter Ammon of the Africans.\n\nXXX. Therefore, ought not a natural philosopher--that is, an inquirer\ninto the secrets of nature--to be ashamed of seeking a testimony to\ntruth from minds prepossessed by custom? According to the rule you have\nlaid down, it may be said that Jupiter is always bearded, Apollo always\nbeardless; that Minerva has gray and Neptune azure eyes; and, indeed,\nwe must then honor that Vulcan at Athens, made by Alcamenes, whose\nlameness through his thin robes appears to be no deformity. Shall we,\ntherefore, receive a lame Deity because we have such an account of him?\n\nConsider, likewise, that the Gods go by what names we give them. Now,\nin the first place, they have as many names as men have languages; for\nVulcan is not called Vulcan in Italy, Africa, or Spain, as you are\ncalled Velleius in all countries. Besides, the Gods are innumerable,\nthough the list of their names is of no great length even in the\nrecords of our priests. Have they no names? You must necessarily\nconfess, indeed, they have none; for what occasion is there for\ndifferent names if their persons are alike?\n\nHow much more laudable would it be, Velleius, to acknowledge that you\ndo not know what you do not know than to follow a man whom you must\ndespise! Do you think the Deity is like either me or you? You do not\nreally think he is like either of us. What is to be done, then? Shall I\ncall the sun, the moon, or the sky a Deity? If so, they are\nconsequently happy. But what pleasures can they enjoy? And they are\nwise too. But how can wisdom reside in such shapes? These are your own\nprinciples. Therefore, if they are not of human form, as I have proved,\nand if you cannot persuade yourself that they are of any other, why are\nyou cautious of denying absolutely the being of any Gods? You dare not\ndeny it--which is very prudent in you, though here you are not afraid\nof the people, but of the Gods themselves. I have known Epicureans who\nreverence[92] even the least images of the Gods, though I perceive it\nto be the opinion of some that Epicurus, through fear of offending\nagainst the Athenian laws, has allowed a Deity in words and destroyed\nhim in fact; so in those his select and short sentences, which are\ncalled by you [Greek: kyriai doxai],[93] this, I think, is the first:\n\"That being which is happy and immortal is not burdened with any labor,\nand does not impose any on any one else.\"\n\nXXXI. In his statement of this sentence, some think that he avoided\nspeaking clearly on purpose, though it was manifestly without design.\nBut they judge ill of a man who had not the least art. It is doubtful\nwhether he means that there is any being happy and immortal, or that if\nthere is any being happy, he must likewise be immortal. They do not\nconsider that he speaks here, indeed, ambiguously; but in many other\nplaces both he and Metrodorus explain themselves as clearly as you have\ndone. But he believed there are Gods; nor have I ever seen any one who\nwas more exceedingly afraid of what he declared ought to be no objects\nof fear, namely, death and the Gods, with the apprehensions of which\nthe common rank of people are very little affected; but he says that\nthe minds of all mortals are terrified by them. Many thousands of men\ncommit robberies in the face of death; others rifle all the temples\nthey can get into: such as these, no doubt, must be greatly terrified,\nthe one by the fears of death, and the others by the fear of the Gods.\n\nBut since you dare not (for I am now addressing my discourse to\nEpicurus himself) absolutely deny the existence of the Gods, what\nhinders you from ascribing a divine nature to the sun, the world, or\nsome eternal mind? I never, says he, saw wisdom and a rational soul in\nany but a human form. What! did you ever observe anything like the sun,\nthe moon, or the five moving planets? The sun, terminating his course\nin two extreme parts of one circle,[94] finishes his annual\nrevolutions. The moon, receiving her light from the sun, completes the\nsame course in the space of a month.[95] The five planets in the same\ncircle, some nearer, others more remote from the earth, begin the same\ncourses together, and finish them in different spaces of time. Did you\never observe anything like this, Epicurus? So that, according to you,\nthere can be neither sun, moon, nor stars, because nothing can exist\nbut what we have touched or seen.[96] What! have you ever seen the\nDeity himself? Why else do you believe there is any? If this doctrine\nprevails, we must reject all that history relates or reason discovers;\nand the people who inhabit inland countries must not believe there is\nsuch a thing as the sea. This is so narrow a way of thinking that if\nyou had been born in Seriphus, and never had been from out of that\nisland, where you had frequently been in the habit of seeing little\nhares and foxes, you would not, therefore, believe that there are such\nbeasts as lions and panthers; and if any one should describe an\nelephant to you, you would think that he designed to laugh at you.\n\nXXXII. You indeed, Velleius, have concluded your argument, not after\nthe manner of your own sect, but of the logicians, to which your people\nare utter strangers. You have taken it for granted that the Gods are\nhappy. I allow it. You say that without virtue no one can be happy. I\nwillingly concur with you in this also. You likewise say that virtue\ncannot reside where reason is not. That I must necessarily allow. You\nadd, moreover, that reason cannot exist but in a human form. Who, do\nyou think, will admit that? If it were true, what occasion was there to\ncome so gradually to it? And to what purpose? You might have answered\nit on your own authority. I perceive your gradations from happiness to\nvirtue, and from virtue to reason; but how do you come from reason to\nhuman form? There, indeed, you do not descend by degrees, but\nprecipitately.\n\nNor can I conceive why Epicurus should rather say the Gods are like men\nthan that men are like the Gods. You ask what is the difference; for,\nsay you, if this is like that, that is like this. I grant it; but this\nI assert, that the Gods could not take their form from men; for the\nGods always existed, and never had a beginning, if they are to exist\neternally; but men had a beginning: therefore that form, of which the\nimmortal Gods are, must have had existence before mankind;\nconsequently, the Gods should not be said to be of human form, but our\nform should be called divine. However, let this be as you will. I now\ninquire how this extraordinary good fortune came about; for you deny\nthat reason had any share in the formation of things. But still, what\nwas this extraordinary fortune? Whence proceeded that happy concourse\nof atoms which gave so sudden a rise to men in the form of Gods? Are we\nto suppose the divine seed fell from heaven upon earth, and that men\nsprung up in the likeness of their celestial sires? I wish you would\nassert it; for I should not be unwilling to acknowledge my relation to\nthe Gods. But you say nothing like it; no, our resemblance to the Gods,\nit seems, was by chance. Must I now seek for arguments to refute this\ndoctrine seriously? I wish I could as easily discover what is true as I\ncan overthrow what is false.\n\nXXXIII. You have enumerated with so ready a memory, and so copiously,\nthe opinions of philosophers, from Thales the Milesian, concerning the\nnature of the Gods, that I am surprised to see so much learning in a\nRoman. But do you think they were all madmen who thought that a Deity\ncould by some possibility exist without hands and feet? Does not even\nthis consideration have weight with you when you consider what is the\nuse and advantage of limbs in men, and lead you to admit that the Gods\nhave no need of them? What necessity can there be of feet, without\nwalking; or of hands, if there is nothing to be grasped? The same may\nbe asked of the other parts of the body, in which nothing is vain,\nnothing useless, nothing superfluous; therefore we may infer that no\nart can imitate the skill of nature. Shall the Deity, then, have a\ntongue, and not speak--teeth, palate, and jaws, though he will have no\nuse for them? Shall the members which nature has given to the body for\nthe sake of generation be useless to the Deity? Nor would the internal\nparts be less superfluous than the external. What comeliness is there\nin the heart, the lungs, the liver, and the rest of them, abstracted\nfrom their use? I mention these because you place them in the Deity on\naccount of the beauty of the human form.\n\nDepending on these dreams, not only Epicurus, Metrodorus, and Hermachus\ndeclaimed against Pythagoras, Plato, and Empedocles, but that little\nharlot Leontium presumed to write against Theophrastus: indeed, she had\na neat Attic style; but yet, to think of her arguing against\nTheophrastus! So much did the garden of Epicurus[97] abound with these\nliberties, and, indeed, you are always complaining against them. Zeno\nwrangled. Why need I mention Albutius? Nothing could be more elegant or\nhumane than Phaedrus; yet a sharp expression would disgust the old man.\nEpicurus treated Aristotle with great contumely. He foully slandered\nPhaedo, the disciple of Socrates. He pelted Timocrates, the brother of\nhis companion Metrodorus, with whole volumes, because he disagreed with\nhim in some trifling point of philosophy. He was ungrateful even to\nDemocritus, whose follower he was; and his master Nausiphanes, from\nwhom he learned nothing, had no better treatment from him.\n\nXXXIV. Zeno gave abusive language not only to those who were then\nliving, as Apollodorus, Syllus, and the rest, but he called Socrates,\nwho was the father of philosophy, the Attic buffoon, using the Latin\nword _Scurra_. He never called Chrysippus by any name but Chesippus.\nAnd you yourself a little before, when you were numbering up a senate,\nas we may call them, of philosophers, scrupled not to say that the most\neminent men talked like foolish, visionary dotards. Certainly,\ntherefore, if they have all erred in regard to the nature of the Gods,\nit is to be feared there are no such beings. What you deliver on that\nhead are all whimsical notions, and not worthy the consideration even\nof old women. For you do not seem to be in the least aware what a task\nyou draw on yourselves, if you should prevail on us to grant that the\nsame form is common to Gods and men. The Deity would then require the\nsame trouble in dressing, and the same care of the body, that mankind\ndoes. He must walk, run, lie down, lean, sit, hold, speak, and\ndiscourse. You need not be told the consequence of making the Gods male\nand female.\n\nTherefore I cannot sufficiently wonder how this chief of yours came to\nentertain these strange opinions. But you constantly insist on the\ncertainty of this tenet, that the Deity is both happy and immortal.\nSupposing he is so, would his happiness be less perfect if he had not\ntwo feet? Or cannot that blessedness or beatitude--call it which you\nwill (they are both harsh terms, but we must mollify them by use)--can\nit not, I say, exist in that sun, or in this world, or in some eternal\nmind that has not human shape or limbs? All you say against it is, that\nyou never saw any happiness in the sun or the world. What, then? Did\nyou ever see any world but this? No, you will say. Why, therefore, do\nyou presume to assert that there are not only six hundred thousand\nworlds, but that they are innumerable? Reason tells you so. Will not\nreason tell you likewise that as, in our inquiries into the most\nexcellent nature, we find none but the divine nature can be happy and\neternal, so the same divine nature surpasses us in excellence of mind;\nand as in mind, so in body? Why, therefore, as we are inferior in all\nother respects, should we be equal in form? For human virtue approaches\nnearer to the divinity than human form.\n\nXXXV. To return to the subject I was upon. What can be more childish\nthan to assert that there are no such creatures as are generated in the\nRed Sea or in India? The most curious inquirer cannot arrive at the\nknowledge of all those creatures which inhabit the earth, sea, fens,\nand rivers; and shall we deny the existence of them because we never\nsaw them? That similitude which you are so very fond of is nothing to\nthe purpose. Is not a dog like a wolf? And, as Ennius says,\n\n    The monkey, filthiest beast, how like to man!\n\nYet they differ in nature. No beast has more sagacity than an elephant;\nyet where can you find any of a larger size? I am speaking here of\nbeasts. But among men, do we not see a disparity of manners in persons\nvery much alike, and a similitude of manners in persons unlike? If this\nsort of argument were once to prevail, Velleius, observe what it would\nlead to. You have laid it down as certain that reason cannot possibly\nreside in any but the human form. Another may affirm that it can exist\nin none but a terrestrial being; in none but a being that is born, that\ngrows up, and receives instruction, and that consists of a soul, and an\ninfirm and perishable body; in short, in none but a mortal man. But if\nyou decline those opinions, why should a single form disturb you? You\nperceive that man is possessed of reason and understanding, with all\nthe infirmities which I have mentioned interwoven with his being;\nabstracted from which, you nevertheless know God, you say, if the\nlineaments do but remain. This is not talking considerately, but at a\nventure; for surely you did not think what an encumbrance anything\nsuperfluous or useless is, not only in a man, but a tree. How\ntroublesome it is to have a finger too much! And why so? Because\nneither use nor ornament requires more than five; but your Deity has\nnot only a finger more than he wants, but a head, a neck, shoulders,\nsides, a paunch, back, hams, hands, feet, thighs, and legs. Are these\nparts necessary to immortality? Are they conducive to the existence of\nthe Deity? Is the face itself of use? One would rather say so of the\nbrain, the heart, the lights, and the liver; for these are the seats of\nlife. The features of the face contribute nothing to the preservation\nof it.\n\nXXXVI. You censured those who, beholding those excellent and stupendous\nworks, the world, and its respective parts--the heaven, the earth, the\nseas--and the splendor with which they are adorned; who, contemplating\nthe sun, moon, and stars; and who, observing the maturity and changes\nof the seasons, and vicissitudes of times, inferred from thence that\nthere must be some excellent and eminent essence that originally made,\nand still moves, directs, and governs them. Suppose they should mistake\nin their conjecture, yet I see what they aim at. But what is that great\nand noble work which appears to you to be the effect of a divine mind,\nand from which you conclude that there are Gods? \"I have,\" say you, \"a\ncertain information of a Deity imprinted in my mind.\" Of a bearded\nJupiter, I suppose, and a helmeted Minerva.\n\nBut do you really imagine them to be such? How much better are the\nnotions of the ignorant vulgar, who not only believe the Deities have\nmembers like ours, but that they make use of them; and therefore they\nassign them a bow and arrows, a spear, a shield, a trident, and\nlightning; and though they do not behold the actions of the Gods, yet\nthey cannot entertain a thought of a Deity doing nothing. The Egyptians\n(so much ridiculed) held no beasts to be sacred, except on account of\nsome advantage which they had received from them. The ibis, a very\nlarge bird, with strong legs and a horny long beak, destroys a great\nnumber of serpents. These birds keep Egypt from pestilential diseases\nby killing and devouring the flying serpents brought from the deserts\nof Lybia by the south-west wind, which prevents the mischief that may\nattend their biting while alive, or any infection when dead. I could\nspeak of the advantage of the ichneumon, the crocodile, and the cat;\nbut I am unwilling to be tedious; yet I will conclude with observing\nthat the barbarians paid divine honors to beasts because of the\nbenefits they received from them; whereas your Gods not only confer no\nbenefit, but are idle, and do no single act of any description\nwhatever.\n\nXXXVII. \"They have nothing to do,\" your teacher says. Epicurus truly,\nlike indolent boys, thinks nothing preferable to idleness; yet those\nvery boys, when they have a holiday, entertain themselves in some\nsportive exercise. But we are to suppose the Deity in such an inactive\nstate that if he should move we may justly fear he would be no longer\nhappy. This doctrine divests the Gods of motion and operation; besides,\nit encourages men to be lazy, as they are by this taught to believe\nthat the least labor is incompatible even with divine felicity.\n\nBut let it be as you would have it, that the Deity is in the form and\nimage of a man. Where is his abode? Where is his habitation? Where is\nthe place where he is to be found? What is his course of life? And what\nis it that constitutes the happiness which you assert that he enjoys?\nFor it seems necessary that a being who is to be happy must use and\nenjoy what belongs to him. And with regard to place, even those natures\nwhich are inanimate have each their proper stations assigned to them:\nso that the earth is the lowest; then water is next above the earth;\nthe air is above the water; and fire has the highest situation of all\nallotted to it. Some creatures inhabit the earth, some the water, and\nsome, of an amphibious nature, live in both. There are some, also,\nwhich are thought to be born in fire, and which often appear fluttering\nin burning furnaces.\n\nIn the first place, therefore, I ask you, Where is the habitation of\nyour Deity? Secondly, What motive is it that stirs him from his place,\nsupposing he ever moves? And, lastly, since it is peculiar to animated\nbeings to have an inclination to something that is agreeable to their\nseveral natures, what is it that the Deity affects, and to what purpose\ndoes he exert the motion of his mind and reason? In short, how is he\nhappy? how eternal? Whichever of these points you touch upon, I am\nafraid you will come lamely off. For there is never a proper end to\nreasoning which proceeds on a false foundation; for you asserted\nlikewise that the form of the Deity is perceptible by the mind, but not\nby sense; that it is neither solid, nor invariable in number; that it\nis to be discerned by similitude and transition, and that a constant\nsupply of images is perpetually flowing on from innumerable atoms, on\nwhich our minds are intent; so that we from that conclude that divine\nnature to be happy and everlasting.\n\nXXXVIII. What, in the name of those Deities concerning whom we are now\ndisputing, is the meaning of all this? For if they exist only in\nthought, and have no solidity nor substance, what difference can there\nbe between thinking of a Hippocentaur and thinking of a Deity? Other\nphilosophers call every such conformation of the mind a vain motion;\nbut you term it \"the approach and entrance of images into the mind.\"\nThus, when I imagine that I behold T. Gracchus haranguing the people in\nthe Capitol, and collecting their suffrages concerning M. Octavius, I\ncall that a vain motion of the mind: but you affirm that the images of\nGracchus and Octavius are present, which are only conveyed to my mind\nwhen they have arrived at the Capitol. The case is the same, you say,\nin regard to the Deity, with the frequent representation of which the\nmind is so affected that from thence it may be clearly understood that\nthe Gods[98] are happy and eternal.\n\nLet it be granted that there are images by which the mind is affected,\nyet it is only a certain form that occurs; and why must that form be\npronounced happy? why eternal? But what are those images you talk of,\nor whence do they proceed? This loose manner of arguing is taken from\nDemocritus; but he is reproved by many people for it; nor can you\nderive any conclusions from it: the whole system is weak and imperfect.\nFor what can be more improbable than that the images of Homer,\nArchilochus, Romulus, Numa, Pythagoras, and Plato should come into my\nmind, and yet not in the form in which they existed? How, therefore,\ncan they be those persons? And whose images are they? Aristotle tells\nus that there never was such a person as Orpheus the poet;[99] and it\nis said that the verse called Orphic verse was the invention of\nCercops, a Pythagorean; yet Orpheus, that is to say, the image of him,\nas you will have it, often runs in my head. What is the reason that I\nentertain one idea of the figure of the same person, and you another?\nWhy do we image to ourselves such things as never had any existence,\nand which never can have, such as Scyllas and Chimaeras? Why do we frame\nideas of men, countries, and cities which we never saw? How is it that\nthe very first moment that I choose I can form representations of them\nin my mind? How is it that they come to me, even in my sleep, without\nbeing called or sought after?\n\nXXXIX. The whole affair, Velleius, is ridiculous. You do not impose\nimages on our eyes only, but on our minds. Such is the privilege which\nyou have assumed of talking nonsense with impunity. But there is, you\nsay, a transition of images flowing on in great crowds in such a way\nthat out of many some one at least must be perceived! I should be\nashamed of my incapacity to understand this if you, who assert it,\ncould comprehend it yourselves; for how do you prove that these images\nare continued in uninterrupted motion? Or, if uninterrupted, still how\ndo you prove them to be eternal? There is a constant supply, you say,\nof innumerable atoms. But must they, for that reason, be all eternal?\nTo elude this, you have recourse to equilibration (for so, with your\nleave, I will call your [Greek: Isonomia]),[100] and say that as there\nis a sort of nature mortal, so there must also be a sort which is\nimmortal. By the same rule, as there are men mortal, there are men\nimmortal; and as some arise from the earth, some must arise from the\nwater also; and as there are causes which destroy, there must likewise\nbe causes which preserve. Be it as you say; but let those causes\npreserve which have existence themselves. I cannot conceive these your\nGods to have any. But how does all this face of things arise from\natomic corpuscles? Were there any such atoms (as there are not), they\nmight perhaps impel one another, and be jumbled together in their\nmotion; but they could never be able to impart form, or figure, or\ncolor, or animation, so that you by no means demonstrate the\nimmortality of your Deity.\n\nXL. Let us now inquire into his happiness. It is certain that without\nvirtue there can be no happiness; but virtue consists in action: now\nyour Deity does nothing; therefore he is void of virtue, and\nconsequently cannot be happy. What sort of life does he lead? He has a\nconstant supply, you say, of good things, without any intermixture of\nbad. What are those good things? Sensual pleasures, no doubt; for you\nknow no delight of the mind but what arises from the body, and returns\nto it. I do not suppose, Velleius, that you are like some of the\nEpicureans, who are ashamed of those expressions of Epicurus,[101] in\nwhich he openly avows that he has no idea of any good separate from\nwanton and obscene pleasures, which, without a blush, he names\ndistinctly. What food, therefore, what drink, what variety of music or\nflowers, what kind of pleasures of touch, what odors, will you offer to\nthe Gods to fill them with pleasures? The poets indeed provide them\nwith banquets of nectar and ambrosia, and a Hebe or a Ganymede to serve\nup the cup. But what is it, Epicurus, that you do for them? For I do\nnot see from whence your Deity should have those things, nor how he\ncould use them. Therefore the nature of man is better constituted for a\nhappy life than the nature of the Gods, because men enjoy various kinds\nof pleasures; but you look on all those pleasures as superficial which\ndelight the senses only by a titillation, as Epicurus calls it. Where\nis to be the end of this trifling? Even Philo, who followed the\nAcademy, could not bear to hear the soft and luscious delights of the\nEpicureans despised; for with his admirable memory he perfectly\nremembered and used to repeat many sentences of Epicurus in the very\nwords in which they were written. He likewise used to quote many, which\nwere more gross, from Metrodorus, the sage colleague of Epicurus, who\nblamed his brother Timocrates because he would not allow that\neverything which had any reference to a happy life was to be measured\nby the belly; nor has he said this once only, but often. You grant what\nI say, I perceive; for you know it to be true. I can produce the books,\nif you should deny it; but I am not now reproving you for referring all\nthings to the standard of pleasure: that is another question. What I am\nnow showing is, that your Gods are destitute of pleasure; and\ntherefore, according to your own manner of reasoning, they are not\nhappy.\n\nXLI. But they are free from pain. Is that sufficient for beings who are\nsupposed to enjoy all good things and the most supreme felicity? The\nDeity, they say, is constantly meditating on his own happiness, for he\nhas no other idea which can possibly occupy his mind. Consider a\nlittle; reflect what a figure the Deity would make if he were to be\nidly thinking of nothing through all eternity but \"It is very well with\nme, and I am happy;\" nor do I see why this happy Deity should not fear\nbeing destroyed, since, without any intermission, he is driven and\nagitated by an everlasting incursion of atoms, and since images are\nconstantly floating off from him. Your Deity, therefore, is neither\nhappy nor eternal.\n\nEpicurus, it seems, has written books concerning sanctity and piety\ntowards the Gods. But how does he speak on these subjects? You would\nsay that you were listening to Coruncanius or Scaevola, the\nhigh-priests, and not to a man who tore up all religion by the roots,\nand who overthrew the temples and altars of the immortal Gods; not,\nindeed, with hands, like Xerxes, but with arguments; for what reason is\nthere for your saying that men ought to worship the Gods, when the Gods\nnot only do not regard men, but are entirely careless of everything,\nand absolutely do nothing at all?\n\nBut they are, you say, of so glorious and excellent a nature that a\nwise man is induced by their excellence to adore them. Can there be any\nglory or excellence in that nature which only contemplates its own\nhappiness, and neither will do, nor does, nor ever did anything?\nBesides, what piety is due to a being from whom you receive nothing? Or\nhow can you, or any one else, be indebted to him who bestows no\nbenefits? For piety is only justice towards the Gods; but what right\nhave they to it, when there is no communication whatever between the\nGods and men? And sanctity is the knowledge of how we ought to worship\nthem; but I do not understand why they are to be worshipped, if we are\nneither to receive nor expect any good from them.\n\nXLII. And why should we worship them from an admiration only of that\nnature in which we can behold nothing excellent? and as for that\nfreedom from superstition, which you are in the habit of boasting of so\nmuch, it is easy to be free from that feeling when you have renounced\nall belief in the power of the Gods; unless, indeed, you imagine that\nDiagoras or Theodorus, who absolutely denied the being of the Gods,\ncould possibly be superstitious. I do not suppose that even Protagoras\ncould, who doubted whether there were Gods or not. The opinions of\nthese philosophers are not only destructive of superstition, which\narises from a vain fear of the Gods, but of religion also, which\nconsists in a pious adoration of them.\n\nWhat think you of those who have asserted that the whole doctrine\nconcerning the immortal Gods was the invention of politicians, whose\nview was to govern that part of the community by religion which reason\ncould not influence? Are not their opinions subversive of all religion?\nOr what religion did Prodicus the Chian leave to men, who held that\neverything beneficial to human life should be numbered among the Gods?\nWere not they likewise void of religion who taught that the Deities, at\npresent the object of our prayers and adoration, were valiant,\nillustrious, and mighty men who arose to divinity after death?\nEuhemerus, whom our Ennius translated, and followed more than other\nauthors, has particularly advanced this doctrine, and treated of the\ndeaths and burials of the Gods; can he, then, be said to have confirmed\nreligion, or, rather, to have totally subverted it? I shall say nothing\nof that sacred and august Eleusina, into whose mysteries the most\ndistant nations were initiated, nor of the solemnities in Samothrace,\nor in Lemnos, secretly resorted to by night, and surrounded by thick\nand shady groves; which, if they were properly explained, and reduced\nto reasonable principles, would rather explain the nature of things\nthan discover the knowledge of the Gods.\n\nXLIII. Even that great man Democritus, from whose fountains Epicurus\nwatered his little garden, seems to me to be very inferior to his usual\nacuteness when speaking about the nature of the Gods. For at one time\nhe thinks that there are images endowed with divinity, inherent in the\nuniversality of things; at another, that the principles and minds\ncontained in the universe are Gods; then he attributes divinity to\nanimated images, employing themselves in doing us good or harm; and,\nlastly, he speaks of certain images of such vast extent that they\nencompass the whole outside of the universe; all which opinions are\nmore worthy of the country[102] of Democritus than of Democritus\nhimself; for who can frame in his mind any ideas of such images? who\ncan admire them? who can think they merit a religious adoration?\n\nBut Epicurus, when he divests the Gods of the power of doing good,\nextirpates all religion from the minds of men; for though he says the\ndivine nature is the best and the most excellent of all natures, he\nwill not allow it to be susceptible of any benevolence, by which he\ndestroys the chief and peculiar attribute of the most perfect being.\nFor what is better and more excellent than goodness and beneficence? To\nrefuse your Gods that quality is to say that no man is any object of\ntheir favor, and no Gods either; that they neither love nor esteem any\none; in short, that they not only give themselves no trouble about us,\nbut even look on each other with the greatest indifference.\n\nXLIV. How much more reasonable is the doctrine of the Stoics, whom you\ncensure? It is one of their maxims that the wise are friends to the\nwise, though unknown to each other; for as nothing is more amiable than\nvirtue, he who possesses it is worthy our love, to whatever country he\nbelongs. But what evils do your principles bring, when you make good\nactions and benevolence the marks of imbecility! For, not to mention\nthe power and nature of the Gods, you hold that even men, if they had\nno need of mutual assistance, would be neither courteous nor\nbeneficent. Is there no natural charity in the dispositions of good\nmen? The very name of love, from which friendship is derived, is dear\nto men;[103] and if friendship is to centre in our own advantage only,\nwithout regard to him whom we esteem a friend, it cannot be called\nfriendship, but a sort of traffic for our own profit. Pastures, lands,\nand herds of cattle are valued in the same manner on account of the\nprofit we gather from them; but charity and friendship expect no\nreturn. How much more reason have we to think that the Gods, who want\nnothing, should love each other, and employ themselves about us! If it\nwere not so, why should we pray to or adore them? Why do the priests\npreside over the altars, and the augurs over the auspices? What have we\nto ask of the Gods, and why do we prefer our vows to them?\n\nBut Epicurus, you say, has written a book concerning sanctity. A\ntrifling performance by a man whose wit is not so remarkable in it, as\nthe unrestrained license of writing which he has permitted himself; for\nwhat sanctity can there be if the Gods take no care of human affairs?\nOr how can that nature be called animated which neither regards nor\nperforms anything? Therefore our friend Posidonius has well observed,\nin his fifth book of the Nature of the Gods, that Epicurus believed\nthere were no Gods, and that what he had said about the immortal Gods\nwas only said from a desire to avoid unpopularity. He could not be so\nweak as to imagine that the Deity has only the outward features of a\nsimple mortal, without any real solidity; that he has all the members\nof a man, without the least power to use them--a certain unsubstantial\npellucid being, neither favorable nor beneficial to any one, neither\nregarding nor doing anything. There can be no such being in nature; and\nas Epicurus said this plainly, he allows the Gods in words, and\ndestroys them in fact; and if the Deity is truly such a being that he\nshows no favor, no benevolence to mankind, away with him! For why\nshould I entreat him to be propitious? He can be propitious to none,\nsince, as you say, all his favor and benevolence are the effects of\nimbecility.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\n\nI. When Cotta had thus concluded, Velleius replied: I certainly was\ninconsiderate to engage in argument with an Academician who is likewise\na rhetorician. I should not have feared an Academician without\neloquence, nor a rhetorician without that philosophy, however eloquent\nhe might be; for I am never puzzled by an empty flow of words, nor by\nthe most subtle reasonings delivered without any grace of oratory. But\nyou, Cotta, have excelled in both. You only wanted the assembly and the\njudges. However, enough of this at present. Now, let us hear what\nLucilius has to say, if it is agreeable to him.\n\nI had much rather, says Balbus, hear Cotta resume his discourse, and\ndemonstrate the true Gods with the same eloquence which he made use of\nto explode the false; for, on such a subject, the loose, unsettled\ndoctrine of the Academy does not become a philosopher, a priest, a\nCotta, whose opinions should be, like those we hold, firm and certain.\nEpicurus has been more than sufficiently refuted; but I would willingly\nhear your own sentiments, Cotta.\n\nDo you forget, replies Cotta, what I at first said--that it is easier\nfor me, especially on this point, to explain what opinions those are\nwhich I do not hold, rather than what those are which I do? Nay, even\nif I did feel some certainty on any particular point, yet, after having\nbeen so diffuse myself already, I would prefer now hearing you speak in\nyour turn. I submit, says Balbus, and will be as brief as I possibly\ncan; for as you have confuted the errors of Epicurus, my part in the\ndispute will be the shorter. Our sect divide the whole question\nconcerning the immortal Gods into four parts. First, they prove that\nthere are Gods; secondly, of what character and nature they are;\nthirdly, that the universe is governed by them; and, lastly, that they\nexercise a superintendence over human affairs. But in this present\ndiscussion let us confine ourselves to the first two articles, and\ndefer the third and fourth till another opportunity, as they require\nmore time to discuss. By no means, says Cotta, for we have time enough\non our hands; besides that, we are now discussing a subject which\nshould be preferred even to serious business.\n\nII. The first point, then, says Lucilius, I think needs no discourse to\nprove it; for what can be so plain and evident, when we behold the\nheavens and contemplate the celestial bodies, as the existence of some\nsupreme, divine intelligence, by which all these things are governed?\nWere it otherwise, Ennius would not, with a universal approbation, have\nsaid,\n\n    Look up to the refulgent heaven above,\n    Which all men call, unanimously, Jove.\n\nThis is Jupiter, the governor of the world, who rules all things with\nhis nod, and is, as the same Ennius adds,\n\n    ----of Gods and men the sire,[104]\n\nan omnipresent and omnipotent God. And if any one doubts this, I really\ndo not understand why the same man may not also doubt whether there is\na sun or not. For what can possibly be more evident than this? And if\nit were not a truth universally impressed on the minds of men, the\nbelief in it would never have been so firm; nor would it have been, as\nit is, increased by length of years, nor would it have gathered\nstrength and stability through every age. And, in truth, we see that\nother opinions, being false and groundless, have already fallen into\noblivion by lapse of time. Who now believes in Hippocentaurs and\nChimaeras? Or what old woman is now to be found so weak and ignorant as\nto stand in fear of those infernal monsters which once so terrified\nmankind? For time destroys the fictions of error and opinion, while it\nconfirms the determinations of nature and of truth. And therefore it is\nthat, both among us and among other nations, sacred institutions and\nthe divine worship of the Gods have been strengthened and improved from\ntime to time. And this is not to be imputed to chance or folly, but to\nthe frequent appearance of the Gods themselves. In the war with the\nLatins, when A. Posthumius, the dictator, attacked Octavius Mamilius,\nthe Tusculan, at Regillus, Castor and Pollux were seen fighting in our\narmy on horseback; and since that the same offspring of Tyndarus gave\nnotice of the defeat of Perses; for as P. Vatienus, the grandfather of\nthe present young man of that name, was coming in the night to Rome\nfrom his government of Reate, two young men on white horses appeared to\nhim, and told him that King[105] Perses was that day taken prisoner.\nThis news he carried to the senate, who immediately threw him into\nprison for speaking inconsiderately on a state affair; but when it was\nconfirmed by letters from Paullus, he was recompensed by the senate\nwith land and immunities.[106] Nor do we forget when the Locrians\ndefeated the people of Crotone, in a great battle on the banks of the\nriver Sagra, that it was known the same day at the Olympic Games. The\nvoices of the Fauns have been often heard, and Deities have appeared in\nforms so visible that they have compelled every one who is not\nsenseless, or hardened in impiety, to confess the presence of the Gods.\n\nIII. What do predictions and foreknowledge of future events indicate,\nbut that such future events are shown, pointed out, portended, and\nforetold to men? From whence they are called omens, signs, portents,\nprodigies. But though we should esteem fabulous what is said of\nMopsus,[107] Tiresias,[108] Amphiaraus,[109] Calchas,[110] and\nHelenus[111] (who would not have been delivered down to us as augurs\neven in fable if their art had been despised), may we not be\nsufficiently apprised of the power of the Gods by domestic examples?\nWill not the temerity of P. Claudius, in the first Punic war, affect\nus? who, when the poultry were let out of the coop and would not feed,\nordered them to be thrown into the water, and, joking even upon the\nGods, said, with a sneer, \"Let them drink, since they will not eat;\"\nwhich piece of ridicule, being followed by a victory over his fleet,\ncost him many tears, and brought great calamity on the Roman people.\nDid not his colleague Junius, in the same war, lose his fleet in a\ntempest by disregarding the auspices? Claudius, therefore, was\ncondemned by the people, and Junius killed himself. Coelius says that\nP. Flaminius, from his neglect of religion, fell at Thrasimenus; a loss\nwhich the public severely felt. By these instances of calamity we may\nbe assured that Rome owes her grandeur and success to the conduct of\nthose who were tenacious of their religious duties; and if we compare\nourselves to our neighbors, we shall find that we are infinitely\ndistinguished above foreign nations by our zeal for religious\nceremonies, though in other things we may be only equal to them, and in\nother respects even inferior to them.\n\nOught we to contemn Attius Navius's staff, with which he divided the\nregions of the vine to find his sow?[112] I should despise it, if I\nwere not aware that King Hostilius had carried on most important wars\nin deference to his auguries; but by the negligence of our nobility the\ndiscipline of the augury is now omitted, the truth of the auspices\ndespised, and only a mere form observed; so that the most important\naffairs of the commonwealth, even the wars, on which the public safety\ndepends, are conducted without any auspices; the Peremnia[113] are\ndiscussed; no part of the Acumina[114] performed; no select men are\ncalled to witness to the military testaments;[115] our generals now\nbegin their wars as soon as they have arranged the Auspicia. The force\nof religion was so great among our ancestors that some of their\ncommanders have, with their faces veiled, and with the solemn, formal\nexpressions of religion, sacrificed themselves to the immortal Gods to\nsave their country.[116] I could mention many of the Sibylline\nprophecies, and many answers of the haruspices, to confirm those\nthings, which ought not to be doubted.\n\nIV. For example: our augurs and the Etrurian haruspices saw the truth\nof their art established when P. Scipio and C. Figulus were consuls;\nfor as Tiberius Gracchus, who was a second time consul, wished to\nproceed to a fresh election, the first Rogator,[117] as he was\ncollecting the suffrages, fell down dead on the spot. Gracchus\nnevertheless went on with the assembly, but perceiving that this\naccident had a religious influence on the people, he brought the affair\nbefore the senate. The senate thought fit to refer it to those who\nusually took cognizance of such things. The haruspices were called, and\ndeclared that the man who had acted as Rogator of the assembly had no\nright to do so; to which, as I have heard my father say, he replied\nwith great warmth, Have I no right, who am consul, and augur, and\nfavored by the Auspicia? And shall you, who are Tuscans and Barbarians,\npretend that you have authority over the Roman Auspicia, and a right to\ngive judgment in matters respecting the formality of our assemblies?\nTherefore, he then commanded them to withdraw; but not long afterward\nhe wrote from his province[118] to the college of augurs, acknowledging\nthat in reading the books[119] he remembered that he had illegally\nchosen a place for his tent in the gardens of Scipio, and had afterward\nentered the Pomoerium, in order to hold a senate, but that in repassing\nthe same Pomoerium he had forgotten to take the auspices; and that,\ntherefore, the consuls had been created informally. The augurs laid the\ncase before the senate. The senate decreed that they should resign\ntheir charge, and so they accordingly abdicated. What greater example\nneed we seek for? The wisest, perhaps the most excellent of men, chose\nto confess his fault, which he might have concealed, rather than leave\nthe public the least atom of religious guilt; and the consuls chose to\nquit the highest office in the State, rather than fill it for a moment\nin defiance of religion. How great is the reputation of the augurs!\n\nAnd is not the art of the soothsayers divine? And must not every one\nwho sees what innumerable instances of the same kind there are confess\nthe existence of the Gods? For they who have interpreters must\ncertainly exist themselves; now, there are interpreters of the Gods;\ntherefore we must allow there are Gods. But it may be said, perhaps,\nthat all predictions are not accomplished. We may as well conclude\nthere is no art of physic, because all sick persons do not recover. The\nGods show us signs of future events; if we are occasionally deceived in\nthe results, it is not to be imputed to the nature of the Gods, but to\nthe conjectures of men. All nations agree that there are Gods; the\nopinion is innate, and, as it were, engraved in the minds of all men.\nThe only point in dispute among us is, what they are.\n\nV. Their existence no one denies. Cleanthes, one of our sect, imputes\nthe way in which the idea of the Gods is implanted in the minds of men\nto four causes. The first is that which I just now mentioned--the\nforeknowledge of future things. The second is the great advantages\nwhich we enjoy from the temperature of the air, the fertility of the\nearth, and the abundance of various benefits of other kinds. The third\ncause is deduced from the terror with which the mind is affected by\nthunder, tempests, storms, snow, hail, devastation, pestilence,\nearthquakes often attended with hideous noises, showers of stones, and\nrain like drops of blood; by rocks and sudden openings of the earth; by\nmonstrous births of men and beasts; by meteors in the air, and blazing\nstars, by the Greeks called _cometae_, by us _crinitae_, the appearance\nof which, in the late Octavian war,[120] were foreboders of great\ncalamities; by two suns, which, as I have heard my father say, happened\nin the consulate of Tuditanus and Aquillius, and in which year also\nanother sun (P. Africanus) was extinguished. These things terrified\nmankind, and raised in them a firm belief of the existence of some\ncelestial and divine power.\n\nHis fourth cause, and that the strongest, is drawn from the regularity\nof the motion and revolution of the heavens, the distinctness, variety,\nbeauty, and order of the sun, moon, and all the stars, the appearance\nonly of which is sufficient to convince us they are not the effects of\nchance; as when we enter into a house, or school, or court, and observe\nthe exact order, discipline, and method of it, we cannot suppose that\nit is so regulated without a cause, but must conclude that there is\nsome one who commands, and to whom obedience is paid. It is quite\nimpossible for us to avoid thinking that the wonderful motions,\nrevolutions, and order of those many and great bodies, no part of which\nis impaired by the countless and infinite succession of ages, must be\ngoverned and directed by some supreme intelligent being.\n\nVI. Chrysippus, indeed, had a very penetrating genius; yet such is the\ndoctrine which he delivers, that he seems rather to have been\ninstructed by nature than to owe it to any discovery of his own. \"If,\"\nsays he, \"there is anything in the universe which no human reason,\nability, or power can make, the being who produced it must certainly be\npreferable to man. Now, celestial bodies, and all those things which\nproceed in any eternal order, cannot be made by man; the being who made\nthem is therefore preferable to man. What, then, is that being but a\nGod? If there be no such thing as a Deity, what is there better than\nman, since he only is possessed of reason, the most excellent of all\nthings? But it is a foolish piece of vanity in man to think there is\nnothing preferable to him. There is, therefore, something preferable;\nconsequently, there is certainly a God.\"\n\nWhen you behold a large and beautiful house, surely no one can persuade\nyou it was built for mice and weasels, though you do not see the\nmaster; and would it not, therefore, be most manifest folly to imagine\nthat a world so magnificently adorned, with such an immense variety of\ncelestial bodies of such exquisite beauty, and that the vast sizes and\nmagnitude of the sea and land were intended as the abode of man, and\nnot as the mansion of the immortal Gods? Do we not also plainly see\nthis, that all the most elevated regions are the best, and that the\nearth is the lowest region, and is surrounded with the grossest air? so\nthat as we perceive that in some cities and countries the capacities of\nmen are naturally duller, from the thickness of the climate, so mankind\nin general are affected by the heaviness of the air which surrounds the\nearth, the grossest region of the world.\n\nYet even from this inferior intelligence of man we may discover the\nexistence of some intelligent agent that is divine, and wiser than\nourselves; for, as Socrates says in Xenophon, from whence had man his\nportion of understanding? And, indeed, if any one were to push his\ninquiries about the moisture and heat which is diffused through the\nhuman body, and the earthy kind of solidity existing in our entrails,\nand that soul by which we breathe, and to ask whence we derived them,\nit would be plain that we have received one thing from the earth,\nanother from liquid, another from fire, and another from that air which\nwe inhale every time that we breathe.\n\nVII. But where did we find that which excels all these things--I mean\nreason, or (if you please, in other terms) the mind, understanding,\nthought, prudence; and from whence did we receive it? Shall the world\nbe possessed of every other perfection, and be destitute of this one,\nwhich is the most important and valuable of all? But certainly there is\nnothing better, or more excellent, or more beautiful than the world;\nand not only there is nothing better, but we cannot even conceive\nanything superior to it; and if reason and wisdom are the greatest of\nall perfections, they must necessarily be a part of what we all allow\nto be the most excellent.\n\nWho is not compelled to admit the truth of what I assert by that\nagreeable, uniform, and continued agreement of things in the universe?\nCould the earth at one season be adorned with flowers, at another be\ncovered with snow? Or, if such a number of things regulated their own\nchanges, could the approach and retreat of the sun in the summer and\nwinter solstices be so regularly known and calculated? Could the flux\nand reflux of the sea and the height of the tides be affected by the\nincrease or wane of the moon? Could the different courses of the stars\nbe preserved by the uniform movement of the whole heaven? Could these\nthings subsist, I say, in such a harmony of all the parts of the\nuniverse without the continued influence of a divine spirit?\n\nIf these points are handled in a free and copious manner, as I purpose\nto do, they will be less liable to the cavils of the Academics; but the\nnarrow, confined way in which Zeno reasoned upon them laid them more\nopen to objection; for as running streams are seldom or never tainted,\nwhile standing waters easily grow corrupt, so a fluency of expression\nwashes away the censures of the caviller, while the narrow limits of a\ndiscourse which is too concise is almost defenceless; for the arguments\nwhich I am enlarging upon are thus briefly laid down by Zeno:\n\nVIII. \"That which reasons is superior to that which does not; nothing\nis superior to the world; the world, therefore, reasons.\" By the same\nrule the world may be proved to be wise, happy, and eternal; for the\npossession of all these qualities is superior to the want of them; and\nnothing is superior to the world; the inevitable consequence of which\nargument is, that the world, therefore, is a Deity. He goes on: \"No\npart of anything void of sense is capable of perception; some parts of\nthe world have perception; the world, therefore, has sense.\" He\nproceeds, and pursues the argument closely. \"Nothing,\" says he, \"that\nis destitute itself of life and reason can generate a being possessed\nof life and reason; but the world does generate beings possessed of\nlife and reason; the world, therefore, is not itself destitute of life\nand reason.\"\n\nHe concludes his argument in his usual manner with a simile: \"If\nwell-tuned pipes should spring out of the olive, would you have the\nslightest doubt that there was in the olive-tree itself some kind of\nskill and knowledge? Or if the plane-tree could produce harmonious\nlutes, surely you would infer, on the same principle, that music was\ncontained in the plane-tree. Why, then, should we not believe the world\nis a living and wise being, since it produces living and wise beings\nout of itself?\"\n\nIX. But as I have been insensibly led into a length of discourse beyond\nmy first design (for I said that, as the existence of the Gods was\nevident to all, there was no need of any long oration to prove it), I\nwill demonstrate it by reasons deduced from the nature of things. For\nit is a fact that all beings which take nourishment and increase\ncontain in themselves a power of natural heat, without which they could\nneither be nourished nor increase. For everything which is of a warm\nand fiery character is agitated and stirred up by its own motion. But\nthat which is nourished and grows is influenced by a certain regular\nand equable motion. And as long as this motion remains in us, so long\ndoes sense and life remain; but the moment that it abates and is\nextinguished, we ourselves decay and perish.\n\nBy arguments like these, Cleanthes shows how great is the power of heat\nin all bodies. He observes that there is no food so gross as not to be\ndigested in a night and a day; and that even in the excrementitious\nparts, which nature rejects, there remains a heat. The veins and\narteries seem, by their continual quivering, to resemble the agitation\nof fire; and it has often been observed when the heart of an animal is\njust plucked from the body that it palpitates with such visible motion\nas to resemble the rapidity of fire. Everything, therefore, that has\nlife, whether it be animal or vegetable, owes that life to the heat\ninherent in it; it is this nature of heat which contains in itself the\nvital power which extends throughout the whole world. This will appear\nmore clearly on a more close explanation of this fiery quality, which\npervades all things.\n\nEvery division, then, of the world (and I shall touch upon the most\nconsiderable) is sustained by heat; and first it may be observed in\nearthly substances that fire is produced from stones by striking or\nrubbing one against another; that \"the warm earth smokes\"[121] when\njust turned up, and that water is drawn warm from well-springs; and\nthis is most especially the case in the winter season, because there is\na great quantity of heat contained in the caverns of the earth; and\nthis becomes more dense in the winter, and on that account confines\nmore closely the innate heat which is discoverable in the earth.\n\nX. It would require a long dissertation, and many reasons would require\nto be adduced, to show that all the seeds which the earth conceives,\nand all those which it contains having been generated from itself, and\nfixed in roots and trunks, derive all their origin and increase from\nthe temperature and regulation of heat. And that even every liquor has\na mixture of heat in it is plainly demonstrated by the effusion of\nwater; for it would not congeal by cold, nor become solid, as ice or\nsnow, and return again to its natural state, if it were not that, when\nheat is applied to it, it again becomes liquefied and dissolved, and so\ndiffuses itself. Therefore, by northern and other cold winds it is\nfrozen and hardened, and in turn it dissolves and melts again by heat.\nThe seas likewise, we find, when agitated by winds, grow warm, so that\nfrom this fact we may understand that there is heat included in that\nvast body of water; for we cannot imagine it to be external and\nadventitious heat, but such as is stirred up by agitation from the deep\nrecesses of the seas; and the same thing takes place with respect to\nour bodies, which grow warm with motion and exercise.\n\nAnd the very air itself, which indeed is the coldest element, is by no\nmeans void of heat; for there is a great quantity, arising from the\nexhalations of water, which appears to be a sort of steam occasioned by\nits internal heat, like that of boiling liquors. The fourth part of the\nuniverse is entirely fire, and is the source of the salutary and vital\nheat which is found in the rest. From hence we may conclude that, as\nall parts of the world are sustained by heat, the world itself also has\nsuch a great length of time subsisted from the same cause; and so much\nthe more, because we ought to understand that that hot and fiery\nprinciple is so diffused over universal nature that there is contained\nin it a power and cause of generation and procreation, from which all\nanimate beings, and all those creatures of the vegetable world, the\nroots of which are contained in the earth, must inevitably derive their\norigin and their increase.\n\nXI. It is nature, consequently, that continues and preserves the world,\nand that, too, a nature which is not destitute of sense and reason; for\nin every essence that is not simple, but composed of several parts,\nthere must be some predominant quality--as, for instance, the mind in\nman, and in beasts something resembling it, from which arise all the\nappetites and desires for anything. As for trees, and all the vegetable\nproduce of the earth, it is thought to be in their roots. I call that\nthe predominant quality,[122] which the Greeks call [Greek:\nhegemonikon]; which must and ought to be the most excellent quality,\nwherever it is found. That, therefore, in which the prevailing quality\nof all nature resides must be the most excellent of all things, and\nmost worthy of the power and pre-eminence over all things.\n\nNow, we see that there is nothing in being that is not a part of the\nuniverse; and as there are sense and reason in the parts of it, there\nmust therefore be these qualities, and these, too, in a more energetic\nand powerful degree, in that part in which the predominant quality of\nthe world is found. The world, therefore, must necessarily be possessed\nof wisdom; and that element, which embraces all things, must excel in\nperfection of reason. The world, therefore, is a God, and the whole\npower of the world is contained in that divine element.\n\nThe heat also of the world is more pure, clear, and lively, and,\nconsequently, better adapted to move the senses than the heat allotted\nto us; and it vivifies and preserves all things within the compass of\nour knowledge.\n\nIt is absurd, therefore, to say that the world, which is endued with a\nperfect, free, pure, spirituous, and active heat, is not sensitive,\nsince by this heat men and beasts are preserved, and move, and think;\nmore especially since this heat of the world is itself the sole\nprinciple of agitation, and has no external impulse, but is moved\nspontaneously; for what can be more powerful than the world, which\nmoves and raises that heat by which it subsists?\n\nXII. For let us listen to Plato, who is regarded as a God among\nphilosophers. He says that there are two sorts of motion, one innate\nand the other external; and that that which is moved spontaneously is\nmore divine than that which is moved by another power. This self-motion\nhe places in the mind alone, and concludes that the first principle of\nmotion is derived from the mind. Therefore, since all motion arises\nfrom the heat of the world, and that heat is not moved by the effect of\nany external impulse, but of its own accord, it must necessarily be a\nmind; from whence it follows that the world is animated.\n\nOn such reasoning is founded this opinion, that the world is possessed\nof understanding, because it certainly has more perfections in itself\nthan any other nature; for as there is no part of our bodies so\nconsiderable as the whole of us, so it is clear that there is no\nparticular portion of the universe equal in magnitude to the whole of\nit; from whence it follows that wisdom must be an attribute of the\nworld; otherwise man, who is a part of it, and possessed of reason,\nwould be superior to the entire world.\n\nAnd thus, if we proceed from the first rude, unfinished natures to the\nmost superior and perfect ones, we shall inevitably come at last to the\nnature of the Gods. For, in the first place, we observe that those\nvegetables which are produced out of the earth are supported by nature,\nand she gives them no further supply than is sufficient to preserve\nthem by nourishing them and making them grow. To beasts she has given\nsense and motion, and a faculty which directs them to what is\nwholesome, and prompts them to shun what is noxious to them. On man she\nhas conferred a greater portion of her favor; inasmuch as she has added\nreason, by which he is enabled to command his passions, to moderate\nsome, and to subdue others.\n\nXIII. In the fourth and highest degree are those beings which are\nnaturally wise and good, who from the first moment of their existence\nare possessed of right and consistent reason, which we must consider\nsuperior to man and deserving to be attributed to a God; that is to\nsay, to the world, in which it is inevitable that that perfect and\ncomplete reason should be inherent. Nor is it possible that it should\nbe said with justice that there is any arrangement of things in which\nthere cannot be something entire and perfect. For as in a vine or in\nbeasts we see that nature, if not prevented by some superior violence,\nproceeds by her own appropriate path to her destined end; and as in\npainting, architecture, and the other arts there is a point of\nperfection which is attainable, and occasionally attained, so it is\neven much more necessary that in universal nature there must be some\ncomplete and perfect result arrived at. Many external accidents may\nhappen to all other natures which may impede their progress to\nperfection, but nothing can hinder universal nature, because she is\nherself the ruler and governor of all other natures. That, therefore,\nmust be the fourth and most elevated degree to which no other power can\napproach.\n\nBut this degree is that on which the nature of all things is placed;\nand since she is possessed of this, and she presides over all things,\nand is subject to no possible impediment, the world must necessarily be\nan intelligent and even a wise being. But how marvellously great is the\nignorance of those men who dispute the perfection of that nature which\nencircles all things; or who, allowing it to be infinitely perfect, yet\ndeny it to be, in the first place, animated, then reasonable, and,\nlastly, prudent and wise! For how without these qualities could it be\ninfinitely perfect? If it were like vegetables, or even like beasts,\nthere would be no more reason for thinking it extremely good than\nextremely bad; and if it were possessed of reason, and had not wisdom\nfrom the beginning, the world would be in a worse condition than man;\nfor man may grow wise, but the world, if it were destitute of wisdom\nthrough an infinite space of time past, could never acquire it. Thus it\nwould be worse than man. But as that is absurd to imagine, the world\nmust be esteemed wise from all eternity, and consequently a Deity:\nsince there is nothing existing that is not defective, except the\nuniverse, which is well provided, and fully complete and perfect in all\nits numbers and parts.\n\nXIV. For Chrysippus says, very acutely, that as the case is made for\nthe buckler, and the scabbard for the sword, so all things, except the\nuniverse, were made for the sake of something else. As, for instance,\nall those crops and fruits which the earth produces were made for the\nsake of animals, and animals for man; as, the horse for carrying, the\nox for the plough, the dog for hunting and for a guard. But man himself\nwas born to contemplate and imitate the world, being in no wise\nperfect, but, if I may so express myself, a particle of perfection; but\nthe world, as it comprehends all, and as nothing exists that is not\ncontained in it, is entirely perfect. In what, therefore, can it be\ndefective, since it is perfect? It cannot want understanding and\nreason, for they are the most desirable of all qualities. The same\nChrysippus observes also, by the use of similitudes, that everything in\nits kind, when arrived at maturity and perfection, is superior to that\nwhich is not--as, a horse to a colt, a dog to a puppy, and a man to a\nboy--so whatever is best in the whole universe must exist in some\ncomplete and perfect being. But nothing is more perfect than the world,\nand nothing better than virtue. Virtue, therefore, is an attribute of\nthe world. But human nature is not perfect, and nevertheless virtue is\nproduced in it: with how much greater reason, then, do we conceive it\nto be inherent in the world! Therefore the world has virtue, and it is\nalso wise, and consequently a Deity.\n\nXV. The divinity of the world being now clearly perceived, we must\nacknowledge the same divinity to be likewise in the stars, which are\nformed from the lightest and purest part of the ether, without a\nmixture of any other matter; and, being altogether hot and transparent,\nwe may justly say they have life, sense, and understanding. And\nCleanthes thinks that it may be established by the evidence of two of\nour senses--feeling and seeing--that they are entirely fiery bodies;\nfor the heat and brightness of the sun far exceed any other fire,\ninasmuch as it enlightens the whole universe, covering such a vast\nextent of space, and its power is such that we perceive that it not\nonly warms, but often even burns: neither of which it could do if it\nwere not of a fiery quality. Since, then, says he, the sun is a fiery\nbody, and is nourished by the vapors of the ocean (for no fire can\ncontinue without some sustenance), it must be either like that fire\nwhich we use to warm us and dress our food, or like that which is\ncontained in the bodies of animals.\n\nAnd this fire, which the convenience of life requires, is the devourer\nand consumer of everything, and throws into confusion and destroys\nwhatever it reaches. On the contrary, the corporeal heat is full of\nlife, and salutary; and vivifies, preserves, cherishes, increases, and\nsustains all things, and is productive of sense; therefore, says he,\nthere can be no doubt which of these fires the sun is like, since it\ncauses all things in their respective kinds to flourish and arrive to\nmaturity; and as the fire of the sun is like that which is contained in\nthe bodies of animated beings, the sun itself must likewise be\nanimated, and so must the other stars also, which arise out of the\ncelestial ardor that we call the sky, or firmament.\n\nAs, then, some animals are generated in the earth, some in the water,\nand some in the air, Aristotle[123] thinks it ridiculous to imagine\nthat no animal is formed in that part of the universe which is the most\ncapable to produce them. But the stars are situated in the ethereal\nspace; and as this is an element the most subtle, whose motion is\ncontinual, and whose force does not decay, it follows, of necessity,\nthat every animated being which is produced in it must be endowed with\nthe quickest sense and the swiftest motion. The stars, therefore, being\nthere generated, it is a natural inference to suppose them endued with\nsuch a degree of sense and understanding as places them in the rank of\nGods.\n\nXVI. For it may be observed that they who inhabit countries of a pure,\nclear air have a quicker apprehension and a readier genius than those\nwho live in a thick, foggy climate. It is thought likewise that the\nnature of a man's diet has an effect on the mind; therefore it is\nprobable that the stars are possessed of an excellent understanding,\ninasmuch as they are situated in the ethereal part of the universe, and\nare nourished by the vapors of the earth and sea, which are purified by\ntheir long passage to the heavens. But the invariable order and regular\nmotion of the stars plainly manifest their sense and understanding; for\nall motion which seems to be conducted with reason and harmony supposes\nan intelligent principle, that does not act blindly, or inconsistently,\nor at random. And this regularity and consistent course of the stars\nfrom all eternity indicates not any natural order, for it is pregnant\nwith sound reason, not fortune (for fortune, being a friend to change,\ndespises consistency). It follows, therefore, that they move\nspontaneously by their own sense and divinity.\n\nAristotle also deserves high commendation for his observation that\neverything that moves is either put in motion by natural impulse, or by\nsome external force, or of its own accord; and that the sun, and moon,\nand all the stars move; but that those things which are moved by\nnatural impulse are either borne downward by their weight, or upward by\ntheir lightness; neither of which things could be the case with the\nstars, because they move in a regular circle and orbit. Nor can it be\nsaid that there is some superior force which causes the stars to be\nmoved in a manner contrary to nature. For what superior force can there\nbe? It follows, therefore, that their motion must be voluntary. And\nwhoever is convinced of this must discover not only great ignorance,\nbut great impiety likewise, if he denies the existence of the Gods; nor\nis the difference great whether a man denies their existence, or\ndeprives them of all design and action; for whatever is wholly inactive\nseems to me not to exist at all. Their existence, therefore, appears so\nplain that I can scarcely think that man in his senses who denies it.\n\nXVII. It now remains that we consider what is the character of the\nGods. Nothing is more difficult than to divert our thoughts and\njudgment from the information of our corporeal sight, and the view of\nobjects which our eyes are accustomed to; and it is this difficulty\nwhich has had such an influence on the unlearned, and on\nphilosophers[124] also who resembled the unlearned multitude, that they\nhave been unable to form any idea of the immortal Gods except under the\nclothing of the human figure; the weakness of which opinion Cotta has\nso well confuted that I need not add my thoughts upon it. But as the\nprevious idea which we have of the Deity comprehends two things--first\nof all, that he is an animated being; secondly, that there is nothing\nin all nature superior to him--I do not see what can be more consistent\nwith this idea and preconception than to attribute a mind and divinity\nto the world,[125] the most excellent of all beings.\n\nEpicurus may be as merry with this notion as he pleases; a man not the\nbest qualified for a joker, as not having the wit and sense of his\ncountry.[126] Let him say that a voluble round Deity is to him\nincomprehensible; yet he shall never dissuade me from a principle which\nhe himself approves, for he is of opinion there are Gods when he allows\nthat there must be a nature excellently perfect. But it is certain that\nthe world is most excellently perfect: nor is it to be doubted that\nwhatever has life, sense, reason, and understanding must excel that\nwhich is destitute of these things. It follows, then, that the world\nhas life, sense, reason, and understanding, and is consequently a\nDeity. But this shall soon be made more manifest by the operation of\nthese very things which the world causes.\n\nXVIII. In the mean while, Velleius, let me entreat you not to be always\nsaying that we are utterly destitute of every sort of learning. The\ncone, you say, the cylinder, and the pyramid, are more beautiful to you\nthan the sphere. This is to have different eyes from other men. But\nsuppose they are more beautiful to the sight only, which does not\nappear to me, for I can see nothing more beautiful than that figure\nwhich contains all others, and which has nothing rough in it, nothing\noffensive, nothing cut into angles, nothing broken, nothing swelling,\nand nothing hollow; yet as there are two forms most esteemed,[127] the\nglobe in solids (for so the Greek word [Greek: sphaira], I think,\nshould be construed), and the circle, or orb, in planes (in Greek,\n[Greek: kyklos]); and as they only have an exact similitude of parts in\nwhich every extreme is equally distant from the centre, what can we\nimagine in nature to be more just and proper? But if you have never\nraked into this learned dust[128] to find out these things, surely, at\nall events, you natural philosophers must know that equality of motion\nand invariable order could not be preserved in any other figure.\nNothing, therefore, can be more illiterate than to assert, as you are\nin the habit of doing, that it is doubtful whether the world is round\nor not, because it may possibly be of another shape, and that there are\ninnumerable worlds of different forms; which Epicurus, if he ever had\nlearned that two and two are equal to four, would not have said. But\nwhile he judges of what is best by his palate, he does not look up to\nthe \"palace of heaven,\" as Ennius calls it.\n\nXIX. For as there are two sorts of stars,[129] one kind of which\nmeasure their journey from east to west by immutable stages, never in\nthe least varying from their usual course, while the other completes a\ndouble revolution with an equally constant regularity; from each of\nthese facts we demonstrate the volubility of the world (which could not\npossibly take place in any but a globular form) and the circular orbits\nof the stars. And first of all the sun, which has the chief rank among\nall the stars, is moved in such a manner that it fills the whole earth\nwith its light, and illuminates alternately one part of the earth,\nwhile it leaves the other in darkness. The shadow of the earth\ninterposing causes night; and the intervals of night are equal to those\nof day. And it is the regular approaches and retreats of the sun from\nwhich arise the regulated degrees of cold and heat. His annual circuit\nis in three hundred and sixty-five days, and nearly six hours\nmore.[130] At one time he bends his course to the north, at another to\nthe south, and thus produces summer and winter, with the other two\nseasons, one of which succeeds the decline of winter, and the other\nthat of summer. And so to these four changes of the seasons we\nattribute the origin and cause of all the productions both of sea and\nland.\n\nThe moon completes the same course every month which the sun does in a\nyear. The nearer she approaches to the sun, the dimmer light does she\nyield, and when most remote from it she shines with the fullest\nbrilliancy; nor are her figure and form only changed in her wane, but\nher situation likewise, which is sometimes in the north and sometimes\nin the south. By this course she has a sort of summer and winter\nsolstices; and by her influence she contributes to the nourishment and\nincrease of animated beings, and to the ripeness and maturity of all\nvegetables.\n\nXX. But most worthy our admiration is the motion of those five stars\nwhich are falsely called wandering stars; for they cannot be said to\nwander which keep from all eternity their approaches and retreats, and\nhave all the rest of their motions, in one regular constant and\nestablished order. What is yet more wonderful in these stars which we\nare speaking of is that sometimes they appear, and sometimes they\ndisappear; sometimes they advance towards the sun, and sometimes they\nretreat; sometimes they precede him, and sometimes follow him;\nsometimes they move faster, sometimes slower, and sometimes they do not\nstir in the least, but for a while stand still. From these unequal\nmotions of the planets, mathematicians have called that the \"great\nyear\"[131] in which the sun, moon, and five wandering stars, having\nfinished their revolutions, are found in their original situation. In\nhow long a time this is effected is much disputed, but it must be a\ncertain and definite period. For the planet Saturn (called by the\nGreeks [Greek: Phainon]), which is farthest from the earth, finishes\nhis course in about thirty years; and in his course there is something\nvery singular, for sometimes he moves before the sun, sometimes he\nkeeps behind it; at one time lying hidden in the night, at another\nagain appearing in the morning; and ever performing the same motions in\nthe same space of time without any alteration, so as to be for infinite\nages regular in these courses. Beneath this planet, and nearer the\nearth, is Jupiter, called [Greek: Phaethon], which passes the same\norbit of the twelve signs[132] in twelve years, and goes through\nexactly the same variety in its course that the star of Saturn does.\nNext to Jupiter is the planet Mars (in Greek, [Greek: Pyroeis]), which\nfinishes its revolution through the same orbit as the two previously\nmentioned,[133] in twenty-four months, wanting six days, as I imagine.\nBelow this is Mercury (called by the Greeks [Greek: Stilbon]), which\nperforms the same course in little less than a year, and is never\nfarther distant from the sun than the space of one sign, whether it\nprecedes or follows it. The lowest of the five planets, and nearest the\nearth, is that of Venus (called in Greek [Greek: Phosphoros]). Before\nthe rising of the sun, it is called the morning-star, and after the\nsetting, the evening-star. It has the same revolution through the\nzodiac, both as to latitude and longitude, with the other planets, in a\nyear, and never is more than two[134] signs from the sun, whether it\nprecedes or follows it.\n\nXXI. I cannot, therefore, conceive that this constant course of the\nplanets, this just agreement in such various motions through all\neternity, can be preserved without a mind, reason, and consideration;\nand since we may perceive these qualities in the stars, we cannot but\nplace them in the rank of Gods. Those which are called the fixed stars\nhave the same indications of reason and prudence. Their motion is\ndaily, regular, and constant. They do not move with the sky, nor have\nthey an adhesion to the firmament, as they who are ignorant of natural\nphilosophy affirm. For the sky, which is thin, transparent, and\nsuffused with an equal heat, does not seem by its nature to have power\nto whirl about the stars, or to be proper to contain them. The fixed\nstars, therefore, have their own sphere, separate and free from any\nconjunction with the sky. Their perpetual courses, with that admirable\nand incredible regularity of theirs, so plainly declare a divine power\nand mind to be in them, that he who cannot perceive that they are also\nendowed with divine power must be incapable of all perception whatever.\n\nIn the heavens, therefore, there is nothing fortuitous, unadvised,\ninconstant, or variable: all there is order, truth, reason, and\nconstancy; and all the things which are destitute of these qualities\nare counterfeit, deceitful, and erroneous, and have their residence\nabout the earth[135] beneath the moon, the lowest of all the planets.\nHe, therefore, who believes that this admirable order and almost\nincredible regularity of the heavenly bodies, by which the preservation\nand entire safety of all things is secured, is destitute of\nintelligence, must be considered to be himself wholly destitute of all\nintellect whatever.\n\nI think, then, I shall not deceive myself in maintaining this dispute\nupon the principle of Zeno, who went the farthest in his search after\ntruth.\n\nXXII. Zeno, then, defines nature to be \"an artificial fire, proceeding\nin a regular way to generation;\" for he thinks that to create and beget\nare especial properties of art, and that whatever may be wrought by the\nhands of our artificers is much more skilfully performed by nature,\nthat is, by this artificial fire, which is the master of all other\narts.\n\nAccording to this manner of reasoning, every particular nature is\nartificial, as it operates agreeably to a certain method peculiar to\nitself; but that universal nature which embraces all things is said by\nZeno to be not only artificial, but absolutely the artificer, ever\nthinking and providing all things useful and proper; and as every\nparticular nature owes its rise and increase to its own proper seed, so\nuniversal nature has all her motions voluntary, has affections and\ndesires (by the Greeks called [Greek: hormas]) productive of actions\nagreeable to them, like us, who have sense and understanding to direct\nus. Such, then, is the intelligence of the universe; for which reason\nit may be properly termed prudence or providence (in Greek, [Greek:\npronoia]), since her chiefest care and employment is to provide all\nthings fit for its duration, that it may want nothing, and, above all,\nthat it may be adorned with all perfection of beauty and ornament.\n\nXXIII. Thus far have I spoken concerning the universe, and also of the\nstars; from whence it is apparent that there is almost an infinite\nnumber of Gods, always in action, but without labor or fatigue; for\nthey are not composed of veins, nerves, and bones; their food and drink\nare not such as cause humors too gross or too subtle; nor are their\nbodies such as to be subject to the fear of falls or blows, or in\ndanger of diseases from a weariness of limbs. Epicurus, to secure his\nGods from such accidents, has made them only outlines of Deities, void\nof action; but our Gods being of the most beautiful form, and situated\nin the purest region of the heavens, dispose and rule their course in\nsuch a manner that they seem to contribute to the support and\npreservation of all things.\n\nBesides these, there are many other natures which have with reason been\ndeified by the wisest Grecians, and by our ancestors, in consideration\nof the benefits derived from them; for they were persuaded that\nwhatever was of great utility to human kind must proceed from divine\ngoodness, and the name of the Deity was applied to that which the Deity\nproduced, as when we call corn Ceres, and wine Bacchus; whence that\nsaying of Terence,[136]\n\n    Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus starves.\n\nAnd any quality, also, in which there was any singular virtue was\nnominated a Deity, such as Faith and Wisdom, which are placed among the\ndivinities in the Capitol; the last by AEmilius Scaurus, but Faith was\nconsecrated before by Atilius Calatinus. You see the temple of Virtue\nand that of Honor repaired by M. Marcellus, erected formerly, in the\nLigurian war, by Q. Maximus. Need I mention those dedicated to Help,\nSafety, Concord, Liberty, and Victory, which have been called Deities,\nbecause their efficacy has been so great that it could not have\nproceeded from any but from some divine power? In like manner are the\nnames of Cupid, Voluptas, and of Lubentine Venus consecrated, though\nthey were things vicious and not natural, whatever Velleius may think\nto the contrary, for they frequently stimulate nature in too violent a\nmanner. Everything, then, from which any great utility proceeded was\ndeified; and, indeed, the names I have just now mentioned are\ndeclaratory of the particular virtue of each Deity.\n\nXXIV. It has been a general custom likewise, that men who have done\nimportant service to the public should be exalted to heaven by fame and\nuniversal consent. Thus Hercules, Castor and Pollux, AEsculapius, and\nLiber became Gods (I mean Liber[137] the son of Semele, and not\nhim[138] whom our ancestors consecrated in such state and solemnity\nwith Ceres and Libera; the difference in which may be seen in our\nMysteries.[139] But because the offsprings of our bodies are called\n\"Liberi\" (children), therefore the offsprings of Ceres are called Liber\nand Libera (Libera[140] is the feminine, and Liber the masculine); thus\nlikewise Romulus, or Quirinus--for they are thought to be the\nsame--became a God.\n\nThey are justly esteemed as Deities, since their souls subsist and\nenjoy eternity, from whence they are perfect and immortal beings.\n\nThere is another reason, too, and that founded on natural philosophy,\nwhich has greatly contributed to the number of Deities; namely, the\ncustom of representing in human form a crowd of Gods who have supplied\nthe poets with fables, and filled mankind with all sorts of\nsuperstition. Zeno has treated of this subject, but it has been\ndiscussed more at length by Cleanthes and Chrysippus. All Greece was of\nopinion that Coelum was castrated by his son Saturn,[141] and that\nSaturn was chained by his son Jupiter. In these impious fables, a\nphysical and not inelegant meaning is contained; for they would denote\nthat the celestial, most exalted, and ethereal nature--that is, the\nfiery nature, which produces all things by itself--is destitute of that\npart of the body which is necessary for the act of generation by\nconjunction with another.\n\nXXV. By Saturn they mean that which comprehends the course and\nrevolution of times and seasons; the Greek name for which Deity implies\nas much, for he is called [Greek: Kronos,] which is the same with\n[Greek: Chronos], that is, a \"space of time.\" But he is called Saturn,\nbecause he is filled (_saturatur_) with years; and he is usually\nfeigned to have devoured his children, because time, ever insatiable,\nconsumes the rolling years; but to restrain him from immoderate haste,\nJupiter has confined him to the course of the stars, which are as\nchains to him. Jupiter (that is, _juvans pater_) signifies a \"helping\nfather,\" whom, by changing the cases, we call Jove,[142] _a juvando_.\nThe poets call him \"father of Gods and men;\"[143] and our ancestors\n\"the most good, the most great;\" and as there is something more\nglorious in itself, and more agreeable to others, to be good (that is,\nbeneficent) than to be great, the title of \"most good\" precedes that of\n\"most great.\" This, then, is he whom Ennius means in the following\npassage, before quoted--\n\n    Look up to the refulgent heaven above,\n    Which all men call, unanimously, Jove:\n\nwhich is more plainly expressed than in this other passage[144] of the\nsame poet--\n\n    On whose account I'll curse that flood of light,\n    Whate'er it is above that shines so bright.\n\nOur augurs also mean the same, when, for the \"thundering and lightning\nheaven,\" they say the \"thundering and lightning Jove.\" Euripides, among\nmany excellent things, has this:\n\n    The vast, expanded, boundless sky behold,\n    See it with soft embrace the earth enfold;\n    This own the chief of Deities above,\n    And this acknowledge by the name of Jove.\n\nXXVI. The air, according to the Stoics, which is between the sea and\nthe heaven, is consecrated by the name of Juno, and is called the\nsister and wife of Jove, because it resembles the sky, and is in close\nconjunction with it. They have made it feminine, because there is\nnothing softer. But I believe it is called Juno, _a juvando_ (from\nhelping).\n\nTo make three separate kingdoms, by fable, there remained yet the water\nand the earth. The dominion of the sea is given, therefore, to Neptune,\na brother, as he is called, of Jove; whose name, Neptunus--as\n_Portunus, a portu_, from a port--is derived _a nando_ (from swimming),\nthe first letters being a little changed. The sovereignty and power\nover the earth is the portion of a God, to whom we, as well as the\nGreeks, have given a name that denotes riches (in Latin, _Dis_; in\nGreek, [Greek: Plouton]), because all things arise from the earth and\nreturn to it. He forced away Proserpine (in Greek called [Greek:\nPersephone]), by which the poets mean the \"seed of corn,\" from whence\ncomes their fiction of Ceres, the mother of Proserpine, seeking for her\ndaughter, who was hidden from her. She is called Ceres, which is the\nsame as Geres--_a gerendis frugibus_[145]--\"from bearing fruit,\" the\nfirst letter of the word being altered after the manner of the Greeks,\nfor by them she is called [Greek: Demeter], the same as [Greek:\nGemeter].[146] Again, he (_qui magna vorteret_) \"who brings about\nmighty changes\" is called Mavors; and Minerva is so called because\n(_minueret_, or _minaretur_) she diminishes or menaces.\n\nXXVII. And as the beginnings and endings of all things are of the\ngreatest importance, therefore they would have their sacrifices to\nbegin with Janus.[147] His name is derived _ab eundo_, from passing;\nfrom whence thorough passages are called _jani_, and the outward doors\nof common houses are called _januae_. The name of Vesta is, from the\nGreeks, the same with their [Greek: Hestia]. Her province is over\naltars and hearths; and in the name of this Goddess, who is the keeper\nof all things within, prayers and sacrifices are concluded. The _Dii\nPenates_, \"household Gods,\" have some affinity with this power, and are\nso called either from _penus_, \"all kind of human provisions,\" or\nbecause _penitus insident_ (they reside within), from which, by the\npoets, they are called _penetrales_ also. Apollo, a Greek name, is\ncalled _Sol_, the sun; and Diana, _Luna_, the moon. The sun (_sol_) is\nso named either because he is _solus_ (alone), so eminent above all the\nstars; or because he obscures all the stars, and appears alone as soon\nas he rises. _Luna_, the moon, is so called _a lucendo_ (from shining);\nshe bears the name also of Lucina: and as in Greece the women in labor\ninvoke Diana Lucifera, so here they invoke Juno Lucina. She is likewise\ncalled Diana _omnivaga_, not _a venando_ (from hunting), but because\nshe is reckoned one of the seven stars that seem to wander.[148] She is\ncalled Diana because she makes a kind of day of the night;[149] and\npresides over births, because the delivery is effected sometimes in\nseven, or at most in nine, courses of the moon; which, because they\nmake _mensa spatia_ (measured spaces), are called _menses_ (months).\nThis occasioned a pleasant observation of Timaeus (as he has many).\nHaving said in his history that \"the same night in which Alexander was\nborn, the temple of Diana at Ephesus was burned down,\" he adds, \"It is\nnot in the least to be wondered at, because Diana, being willing to\nassist at the labor of Olympias,[150] was absent from home.\" But to\nthis Goddess, because _ad res omnes veniret_--\"she has an influence\nupon all things\"--we have given the appellation of Venus,[151] from\nwhom the word _venustas_ (beauty) is rather derived than Venus from\n_venustas_.\n\nXXVIII. Do you not see, therefore, how, from the productions of nature\nand the useful inventions of men, have arisen fictitious and imaginary\nDeities, which have been the foundation of false opinions, pernicious\nerrors, and wretched superstitions? For we know how the different forms\nof the Gods--their ages, apparel, ornaments; their pedigrees,\nmarriages, relations, and everything belonging to them--are adapted to\nhuman weakness and represented with our passions; with lust, sorrow,\nand anger, according to fabulous history: they have had wars and\ncombats, not only, as Homer relates, when they have interested\nthemselves in two different armies, but when they have fought battles\nin their own defence against the Titans and giants. These stories, of\nthe greatest weakness and levity, are related and believed with the\nmost implicit folly.\n\nBut, rejecting these fables with contempt, a Deity is diffused in every\npart of nature; in earth under the name of Ceres, in the sea under the\nname of Neptune, in other parts under other names. Yet whatever they\nare, and whatever characters and dispositions they have, and whatever\nname custom has given them, we are bound to worship and adore them. The\nbest, the chastest, the most sacred and pious worship of the Gods is to\nreverence them always with a pure, perfect, and unpolluted mind and\nvoice; for our ancestors, as well as the philosophers, have separated\nsuperstition from religion. They who prayed whole days and sacrificed,\nthat their children might survive them (_ut superstites essent_), were\ncalled superstitious, which word became afterward more general; but\nthey who diligently perused, and, as we may say, read or practised over\nagain, all the duties relating to the worship of the Gods, were called\n_religiosi_--religious, from _relegendo_--\"reading over again, or\npractising;\" as _elegantes_, elegant, _ex eligendo_, \"from choosing,\nmaking a good choice;\" _diligentes_, diligent, _ex diligendo_, \"from\nattending on what we love;\" _intelligentes_, intelligent, from\nunderstanding--for the signification is derived in the same manner.\nThus are the words superstitious and religious understood; the one\nbeing a term of reproach, the other of commendation. I think I have now\nsufficiently demonstrated that there are Gods, and what they are.\n\nXXIX. I am now to show that the world is governed by the providence of\nthe Gods. This is an important point, which you Academics endeavor to\nconfound; and, indeed, the whole contest is with you, Cotta; for your\nsect, Velleius, know very little of what is said on different subjects\nby other schools. You read and have a taste only for your own books,\nand condemn all others without examination. For instance, when you\nmentioned yesterday[152] that prophetic old dame [Greek: Pronoia],\nProvidence, invented by the Stoics, you were led into that error by\nimagining that Providence was made by them to be a particular Deity\nthat governs the whole universe, whereas it is only spoken in a short\nmanner; as when it is said \"The commonwealth of Athens is governed by\nthe council,\" it is meant \"of the Areopagus;\"[153] so when we say \"The\nworld is governed by providence,\" we mean \"by the providence of the\nGods.\" To express ourselves, therefore, more fully and clearly, we say,\n\"The world is governed by the providence of the Gods.\" Be not,\ntherefore, lavish of your railleries, of which your sect has little to\nspare: if I may advise you, do not attempt it. It does not become you,\nit is not your talent, nor is it in your power. This is not applied to\nyou in particular who have the education and politeness of a Roman, but\nto all your sect in general, and especially to your leader[154]--a man\nunpolished, illiterate, insulting, without wit, without reputation,\nwithout elegance.\n\nXXX. I assert, then, that the universe, with all its parts, was\noriginally constituted, and has, without any cessation, been ever\ngoverned by the providence of the Gods. This argument we Stoics\ncommonly divide into three parts; the first of which is, that the\nexistence of the Gods being once known, it must follow that the world\nis governed by their wisdom; the second, that as everything is under\nthe direction of an intelligent nature, which has produced that\nbeautiful order in the world, it is evident that it is formed from\nanimating principles; the third is deduced from those glorious works\nwhich we behold in the heavens and the earth.\n\nFirst, then, we must either deny the existence of the Gods (as\nDemocritus and Epicurus by their doctrine of images in some sort do),\nor, if we acknowledge that there are Gods, we must believe they are\nemployed, and that, too, in something excellent. Now, nothing is so\nexcellent as the administration of the universe. The universe,\ntherefore, is governed by the wisdom of the Gods. Otherwise, we must\nimagine that there is some cause superior to the Deity, whether it be a\nnature inanimate, or a necessity agitated by a mighty force, that\nproduces those beautiful works which we behold. The nature of the Gods\nwould then be neither supreme nor excellent, if you subject it to that\nnecessity or to that nature, by which you would make the heaven, the\nearth, and the seas to be governed. But there is nothing superior to\nthe Deity; the world, therefore, must be governed by him: consequently,\nthe Deity is under no obedience or subjection to nature, but does\nhimself rule over all nature. In effect, if we allow the Gods have\nunderstanding, we allow also their providence, which regards the most\nimportant things; for, can they be ignorant of those important things,\nand how they are to be conducted and preserved, or do they want power\nto sustain and direct them? Ignorance is inconsistent with the nature\nof the Gods, and imbecility is repugnant to their majesty. From whence\nit follows, as we assert, that the world is governed by the providence\nof the Gods.\n\nXXXI. But supposing, which is incontestable, that there are Gods, they\nmust be animated, and not only animated, but endowed with\nreason--united, as we may say, in a civil agreement and society, and\ngoverning together one universe, as a republic or city. Thus the same\nreason, the same verity, the same law, which ordains good and prohibits\nevil, exists in the Gods as it does in men. From them, consequently, we\nhave prudence and understanding, for which reason our ancestors erected\ntemples to the Mind, Faith, Virtue, and Concord. Shall we not then\nallow the Gods to have these perfections, since we worship the sacred\nand august images of them? But if understanding, faith, virtue, and\nconcord reside in human kind, how could they come on earth, unless from\nheaven? And if we are possessed of wisdom, reason, and prudence, the\nGods must have the same qualities in a greater degree; and not only\nhave them, but employ them in the best and greatest works. The universe\nis the best and greatest work; therefore it must be governed by the\nwisdom and providence of the Gods.\n\nLastly, as we have sufficiently shown that those glorious and luminous\nbodies which we behold are Deities--I mean the sun, the moon, the fixed\nand wandering stars, the firmament, and the world itself, and those\nother things also which have any singular virtue, and are of any great\nutility to human kind--it follows that all things are governed by\nprovidence and a divine mind. But enough has been said on the first\npart.\n\nXXXII. It is now incumbent on me to prove that all things are subjected\nto nature, and most beautifully directed by her. But, first of all, it\nis proper to explain precisely what that nature is, in order to come to\nthe more easy understanding of what I would demonstrate. Some think\nthat nature is a certain irrational power exciting in bodies the\nnecessary motions. Others, that it is an intelligent power, acting by\norder and method, designing some end in every cause, and always aiming\nat that end, whose works express such skill as no art, no hand, can\nimitate; for, they say, such is the virtue of its seed, that, however\nsmall it is, if it falls into a place proper for its reception, and\nmeets with matter conducive to its nourishment and increase, it forms\nand produces everything in its respective kind; either vegetables,\nwhich receive their nourishment from their roots; or animals, endowed\nwith motion, sense, appetite, and abilities to beget their likeness.\n\nSome apply the word nature to everything; as Epicurus does, who\nacknowledges no cause, but atoms, a vacuum, and their accidents. But\nwhen we[155] say that nature forms and governs the world, we do not\napply it to a clod of earth, or piece of stone, or anything of that\nsort, whose parts have not the necessary cohesion,[156] but to a tree,\nin which there is not the appearance of chance, but of order and a\nresemblance of art.\n\nXXXIII. But if the art of nature gives life and increase to vegetables,\nwithout doubt it supports the earth itself; for, being impregnated with\nseeds, she produces every kind of vegetable, and embracing their roots,\nshe nourishes and increases them; while, in her turn, she receives her\nnourishment from the other elements, and by her exhalations gives\nproper sustenance to the air, the sky, and all the superior bodies. If\nnature gives vigor and support to the earth, by the same reason she has\nan influence over the rest of the world; for as the earth gives\nnourishment to vegetables, so the air is the preservation of animals.\nThe air sees with us, hears with us, and utters sounds with us; without\nit, there would be no seeing, hearing, or sounding. It even moves with\nus; for wherever we go, whatever motion we make, it seems to retire and\ngive place to us.\n\nThat which inclines to the centre, that which rises from it to the\nsurface, and that which rolls about the centre, constitute the\nuniversal world, and make one entire nature; and as there are four\nsorts of bodies, the continuance of nature is caused by their\nreciprocal changes; for the water arises from the earth, the air from\nthe water, and the fire from the air; and, reversing this order, the\nair arises from fire, the water from the air, and from the water the\nearth, the lowest of the four elements, of which all beings are formed.\nThus by their continual motions backward and forward, upward and\ndownward, the conjunction of the several parts of the universe is\npreserved; a union which, in the beauty we now behold it, must be\neternal, or at least of a very long duration, and almost for an\ninfinite space of time; and, whichever it is, the universe must of\nconsequence be governed by nature. For what art of navigating fleets,\nor of marshalling an army, and--to instance the produce of nature--what\nvine, what tree, what animated form and conformation of their members,\ngive us so great an indication of skill as appears in the universe?\nTherefore we must either deny that there is the least trace of an\nintelligent nature, or acknowledge that the world is governed by it.\nBut since the universe contains all particular beings, as well as their\nseeds, can we say that it is not itself governed by nature? That would\nbe the same as saying that the teeth and the beard of man are the work\nof nature, but that the man himself is not. Thus the effect would be\nunderstood to be greater than the cause.\n\nXXXIV. Now, the universe sows, as I may say, plants, produces, raises,\nnourishes, and preserves what nature administers, as members and parts\nof itself. If nature, therefore, governs them, she must also govern the\nuniverse. And, lastly, in nature's administration there is nothing\nfaulty. She produced the best possible effect out of those elements\nwhich existed. Let any one show how it could have been better. But that\ncan never be; and whoever attempts to mend it will either make it\nworse, or aim at impossibilities.\n\nBut if all the parts of the universe are so constituted that nothing\ncould be better for use or beauty, let us consider whether this is the\neffect of chance, or whether, in such a state they could possibly\ncohere, but by the direction of wisdom and divine providence. Nature,\ntherefore, cannot be void of reason, if art can bring nothing to\nperfection without it, and if the works of nature exceed those of art.\nHow is it consistent with common-sense that when you view an image or a\npicture, you imagine it is wrought by art; when you behold afar off a\nship under sail, you judge it is steered by reason and art; when you\nsee a dial or water-clock,[157] you believe the hours are shown by art,\nand not by chance; and yet that you should imagine that the universe,\nwhich contains all arts and the artificers, can be void of reason and\nunderstanding?\n\nBut if that sphere which was lately made by our friend Posidonius, the\nregular revolutions of which show the course of the sun, moon, and five\nwandering stars, as it is every day and night performed, were carried\ninto Scythia or Britain, who, in those barbarous countries, would doubt\nthat that sphere had been made so perfect by the exertion of reason?\n\nXXXV. Yet these people[158] doubt whether the universe, from whence all\nthings arise and are made, is not the effect of chance, or some\nnecessity, rather than the work of reason and a divine mind. According\nto them, Archimedes shows more knowledge in representing the motions of\nthe celestial globe than nature does in causing them, though the copy\nis so infinitely beneath the original. The shepherd in Attius,[159] who\nhad never seen a ship, when he perceived from a mountain afar off the\ndivine vessel of the Argonauts, surprised and frighted at this new\nobject, expressed himself in this manner:\n\n    What horrid bulk is that before my eyes,\n    Which o'er the deep with noise and vigor flies?\n    It turns the whirlpools up, its force so strong,\n    And drives the billows as it rolls along.\n    The ocean's violence it fiercely braves;\n    Runs furious on, and throws about the waves.\n    Swiftly impetuous in its course, and loud,\n    Like the dire bursting of a show'ry cloud;\n    Or, like a rock, forced by the winds and rain,\n    Now whirl'd aloft, then plunged into the main.\n    But hold! perhaps the Earth and Neptune jar,\n    And fiercely wage an elemental war;\n    Or Triton with his trident has o'erthrown\n    His den, and loosen'd from the roots the stone;\n    The rocky fragment, from the bottom torn,\n    Is lifted up, and on the surface borne.\n\nAt first he is in suspense at the sight of this unknown object; but on\nseeing the young mariners, and hearing their singing, he says,\n\n    Like sportive dolphins, with their snouts they roar;[160]\n\nand afterward goes on,\n\n    Loud in my ears methinks their voices ring,\n    As if I heard the God Sylvanus sing.\n\nAs at first view the shepherd thinks he sees something inanimate and\ninsensible, but afterward, judging by more trustworthy indications, he\nbegins to figure to himself what it is; so philosophers, if they are\nsurprised at first at the sight of the universe, ought, when they have\nconsidered the regular, uniform, and immutable motions of it, to\nconceive that there is some Being that is not only an inhabitant of\nthis celestial and divine mansion, but a ruler and a governor, as\narchitect of this mighty fabric.\n\nXXXVI. Now, in my opinion, they[161] do not seem to have even the least\nsuspicion that the heavens and earth afford anything marvellous. For,\nin the first place, the earth is situated in the middle part of the\nuniverse, and is surrounded on all sides by the air, which we breathe,\nand which is called \"aer,\"[162] which, indeed, is a Greek word; but by\nconstant use it is well understood by our countrymen, for, indeed, it\nis employed as a Latin word. The air is encompassed by the boundless\nether (sky), which consists of the fires above. This word we borrow\nalso, for we use _aether_ in Latin as well as _aer;_ though Pacuvius\nthus expresses it,\n\n                       --This, of which I speak,\n    In Latin's _coelum_, _aether_ call'd in Greek.\n\nAs though he were not a Greek into whose mouth he puts this sentence;\nbut he is speaking in Latin, though we listen as if he were speaking\nGreek; for, as he says elsewhere,\n\n    His speech discovers him a Grecian born.\n\nBut to return to more important matters. In the sky innumerable fiery\nstars exist, of which the sun is the chief, enlightening all with his\nrefulgent splendor, and being by many degrees larger than the whole\nearth; and this multitude of vast fires are so far from hurting the\nearth, and things terrestrial, that they are of benefit to them;\nwhereas, if they were moved from their stations, we should inevitably\nbe burned through the want of a proper moderation and temperature of\nheat.\n\nXXXVII. Is it possible for any man to behold these things, and yet\nimagine that certain solid and individual bodies move by their natural\nforce and gravitation, and that a world so beautifully adorned was made\nby their fortuitous concourse? He who believes this may as well believe\nthat if a great quantity of the one-and-twenty letters, composed either\nof gold or any other matter, were thrown upon the ground, they would\nfall into such order as legibly to form the Annals of Ennius. I doubt\nwhether fortune could make a single verse of them. How, therefore, can\nthese people assert that the world was made by the fortuitous concourse\nof atoms, which have no color, no quality--which the Greeks call\n[Greek: poiotes], no sense? or that there are innumerable worlds, some\nrising and some perishing, in every moment of time? But if a concourse\nof atoms can make a world, why not a porch, a temple, a house, a city,\nwhich are works of less labor and difficulty?\n\nCertainly those men talk so idly and inconsiderately concerning this\nlower world that they appear to me never to have contemplated the\nwonderful magnificence of the heavens; which is the next topic for our\nconsideration.\n\nWell, then, did Aristotle[163] observe: \"If there were men whose\nhabitations had been always underground, in great and commodious\nhouses, adorned with statues and pictures, furnished with everything\nwhich they who are reputed happy abound with; and if, without stirring\nfrom thence, they should be informed of a certain divine power and\nmajesty, and, after some time, the earth should open, and they should\nquit their dark abode to come to us, where they should immediately\nbehold the earth, the seas, the heavens; should consider the vast\nextent of the clouds and force of the winds; should see the sun, and\nobserve his grandeur and beauty, and also his generative power,\ninasmuch as day is occasioned by the diffusion of his light through the\nsky; and when night has obscured the earth, they should contemplate the\nheavens bespangled and adorned with stars, the surprising variety of\nthe moon in her increase and wane, the rising and setting of all the\nstars, and the inviolable regularity of their courses; when,\" says he,\n\"they should see these things, they would undoubtedly conclude that\nthere are Gods, and that these are their mighty works.\"\n\nXXXVIII. Thus far Aristotle. Let us imagine, also, as great darkness as\nwas formerly occasioned by the irruption of the fires of Mount AEtna,\nwhich are said to have obscured the adjacent countries for two days to\nsuch a degree that no man could recognize his fellow; but on the third,\nwhen the sun appeared, they seemed to be risen from the dead. Now, if\nwe should be suddenly brought from a state of eternal darkness to see\nthe light, how beautiful would the heavens seem! But our minds have\nbecome used to it from the daily practice and habituation of our eyes,\nnor do we take the trouble to search into the principles of what is\nalways in view; as if the novelty, rather than the importance, of\nthings ought to excite us to investigate their causes.\n\nIs he worthy to be called a man who attributes to chance, not to an\nintelligent cause, the constant motion of the heavens, the regular\ncourses of the stars, the agreeable proportion and connection of all\nthings, conducted with so much reason that our intellect itself is\nunable to estimate it rightly? When we see machines move artificially,\nas a sphere, a clock, or the like, do we doubt whether they are the\nproductions of reason? And when we behold the heavens moving with a\nprodigious celerity, and causing an annual succession of the different\nseasons of the year, which vivify and preserve all things, can we doubt\nthat this world is directed, I will not say only by reason, but by\nreason most excellent and divine? For without troubling ourselves with\ntoo refined a subtlety of discussion, we may use our eyes to\ncontemplate the beauty of those things which we assert have been\narranged by divine providence.\n\nXXXIX. First, let us examine the earth, whose situation is in the\nmiddle of the universe,[164] solid, round, and conglobular by its\nnatural tendency; clothed with flowers, herbs, trees, and fruits; the\nwhole in multitudes incredible, and with a variety suitable to every\ntaste: let us consider the ever-cool and running springs, the clear\nwaters of the rivers, the verdure of their banks, the hollow depths of\ncaves, the cragginess of rocks, the heights of impending mountains, and\nthe boundless extent of plains, the hidden veins of gold and silver,\nand the infinite quarries of marble.\n\nWhat and how various are the kinds of animals, tame or wild? The\nflights and notes of birds? How do the beasts live in the fields and in\nthe forests? What shall I say of men, who, being appointed, as we may\nsay, to cultivate the earth, do not suffer its fertility to be choked\nwith weeds, nor the ferocity of beasts to make it desolate; who, by the\nhouses and cities which they build, adorn the fields, the isles, and\nthe shores? If we could view these objects with the naked eye, as we\ncan by the contemplation of the mind, nobody, at such a sight, would\ndoubt there was a divine intelligence.\n\nBut how beautiful is the sea! How pleasant to see the extent of it!\nWhat a multitude and variety of islands! How delightful are the coasts!\nWhat numbers and what diversity of inhabitants does it contain; some\nwithin the bosom of it, some floating on the surface, and others by\ntheir shells cleaving to the rocks! While the sea itself, approaching\nto the land, sports so closely to its shores that those two elements\nappear to be but one.\n\nNext above the sea is the air, diversified by day and night: when\nrarefied, it possesses the higher region; when condensed, it turns into\nclouds, and with the waters which it gathers enriches the earth by the\nrain. Its agitation produces the winds. It causes heat and cold\naccording to the different seasons. It sustains birds in their flight;\nand, being inhaled, nourishes and preserves all animated beings.\n\nXL. Add to these, which alone remaineth to be mentioned, the firmament\nof heaven, a region the farthest from our abodes, which surrounds and\ncontains all things. It is likewise called ether, or sky, the extreme\nbounds and limits of the universe, in which the stars perform their\nappointed courses in a most wonderful manner; among which, the sun,\nwhose magnitude far surpasses the earth, makes his revolution round it,\nand by his rising and setting causes day and night; sometimes coming\nnear towards the earth, and sometimes going from it, he every year\nmakes two contrary reversions[165] from the extreme point of its\ncourse. In his retreat the earth seems locked up in sadness; in his\nreturn it appears exhilarated with the heavens. The moon, which, as\nmathematicians demonstrate, is bigger than half the earth, makes her\nrevolutions through the same spaces[166] as the sun; but at one time\napproaching, and at another receding from, the sun, she diffuses the\nlight which she has borrowed from him over the whole earth, and has\nherself also many various changes in her appearance. When she is found\nunder the sun, and opposite to it, the brightness of her rays is lost;\nbut when the earth directly interposes between the moon and sun, the\nmoon is totally eclipsed. The other wandering stars have their courses\nround the earth in the same spaces,[167] and rise and set in the same\nmanner; their motions are sometimes quick, sometimes slow, and often\nthey stand still. There is nothing more wonderful, nothing more\nbeautiful. There is a vast number of fixed stars, distinguished by the\nnames of certain figures, to which we find they have some resemblance.\n\nXLI. I will here, says Balbus, looking at me, make use of the verses\nwhich, when you were young, you translated from Aratus,[168] and which,\nbecause they are in Latin, gave me so much delight that I have many of\nthem still in my memory. As then, we daily see, without any change or\nvariation,\n\n                                     --the rest[169]\n    Swiftly pursue the course to which they're bound;\n    And with the heavens the days and nights go round;\n\nthe contemplation of which, to a mind desirous of observing the\nconstancy of nature, is inexhaustible.\n\n    The extreme top of either point is call'd\n    The pole.[170]\n\nAbout this the two [Greek: Arktoi] are turned, which never set;\n\n    Of these, the Greeks one Cynosura call,\n    The other Helice.[171]\n\nThe brightest stars,[172] indeed, of Helice are discernible all night,\n\n    Which are by us Septentriones call'd.\n\nCynosura moves about the same pole, with a like number of stars, and\nranged in the same order:\n\n    This[173] the Phoenicians choose to make their guide\n    When on the ocean in the night they ride.\n    Adorned with stars of more refulgent light,\n    The other[174] shines, and first appears at night.\n    Though this is small, sailors its use have found;\n    More inward is its course, and short its round.\n\nXLII. The aspect of those stars is the more admirable, because,\n\n    The Dragon grim between them bends his way,\n    As through the winding banks the currents stray,\n    And up and down in sinuous bending rolls.[175]\n\nHis whole form is excellent; but the shape of his head and the ardor of\nhis eyes are most remarkable.\n\n    Various the stars which deck his glittering head;\n    His temples are with double glory spread;\n    From his fierce eyes two fervid lights afar\n    Flash, and his chin shines with one radiant star;\n    Bow'd is his head; and his round neck he bends,\n    And to the tail of Helice[176] extends.\n\nThe rest of the Dragon's body we see[177] at every hour in the night.\n\n    Here[178] suddenly the head a little hides\n    Itself, where all its parts, which are in sight,\n    And those unseen in the same place unite.\n\nNear to this head\n\n    Is placed the figure of a man that moves\n    Weary and sad,\n\nwhich the Greeks\n\n    Engonasis do call, because he's borne[179]\n    About with bended knee. Near him is placed\n    The crown with a refulgent lustre graced.\n\nThis indeed is at his back; but Anguitenens (the Snake-holder) is near\nhis head:[180]\n\n    The Greeks him Ophiuchus call, renown'd\n    The name. He strongly grasps the serpent round\n    With both his hands; himself the serpent folds\n    Beneath his breast, and round his middle holds;\n    Yet gravely he, bright shining in the skies,\n    Moves on, and treads on Nepa's[181] breast and eyes.\n\nThe Septentriones[182] are followed by--\n\n    Arctophylax,[183] that's said to be the same\n    Which we Booetes call, who has the name,\n    Because he drives the Greater Bear along\n    Yoked to a wain.\n\nBesides, in Booetes,\n\n    A star of glittering rays about his waist,\n    Arcturus called, a name renown'd, is placed.[184]\n\nBeneath which is\n\n    The Virgin of illustrious form, whose hand\n    Holds a bright spike.\n\nXLIII. And truly these signs are so regularly disposed that a divine\nwisdom evidently appears in them:\n\n    Beneath the Bear's[185] head have the Twins their seat,\n    Under his chest the Crab, beneath his feet\n    The mighty Lion darts a trembling flame.[186]\n\nThe Charioteer\n\n    On the left side of Gemini we see,[187]\n    And at his head behold fierce Helice;\n    On his left shoulder the bright Goat appears.\n\nBut to proceed--\n\n    This is indeed a great and glorious star,\n    On th' other side the Kids, inferior far,\n    Yield but a slender light to mortal eyes.\n\nUnder his feet\n\n    The horned bull,[188] with sturdy limbs, is placed:\n\nhis head is spangled with a number of stars;\n\n    These by the Greeks are called the Hyades,\n\nfrom raining; for [Greek: hyein] is to rain: therefore they are\ninjudiciously called _Suculae_ by our people, as if they had their name\nfrom [Greek: hys], a sow, and not from [Greek: hyo].\n\nBehind the Lesser Bear, Cepheus[189] follows with extended hands,\n\n    For close behind the Lesser Bear he comes.\n\nBefore him goes\n\n    Cassiopea[190] with a faintish light;\n    But near her moves (fair and illustrious sight!)\n    Andromeda,[191] who, with an eager pace,\n    Seems to avoid her parent's mournful face.[192]\n    With glittering mane the Horse[193] now seems to tread,\n    So near he comes, on her refulgent head;\n    With a fair star, that close to him appears,\n    A double form[194] and but one light he wears;\n    By which he seems ambitious in the sky\n    An everlasting knot of stars to tie.\n    Near him the Ram, with wreathed horns, is placed;\n\nby whom\n\n    The Fishes[195] are; of which one seems to haste\n    Somewhat before the other, to the blast\n    Of the north wind exposed.\n\nXLIV. Perseus is described as placed at the feet of Andromeda:\n\n    And him the sharp blasts of the north wind beat.\n    Near his left knee, but dim their light, their seat\n    The small Pleiades[196] maintain. We find,\n    Not far from them, the Lyre[197] but slightly join'd.\n    Next is the winged Bird,[198] that seems to fly\n    Beneath the spacious covering of the sky.\n\nNear the head of the Horse[199] lies the right hand of Aquarius, then\nall Aquarius himself.[200]\n\n    Then Capricorn, with half the form of beast,\n    Breathes chill and piercing colds from his strong breast,\n    And in a spacious circle takes his round;\n    When him, while in the winter solstice bound,\n    The sun has visited with constant light,\n    He turns his course, and shorter makes the night.[201]\n\nNot far from hence is seen\n\n    The Scorpion[202] rising lofty from below;\n    By him the Archer,[203] with his bended bow;\n    Near him the Bird, with gaudy feathers spread;\n    And the fierce Eagle[204] hovers o'er his head.\n\nNext comes the Dolphin;[205]\n\n    Then bright Orion,[206] who obliquely moves;\n\nhe is followed by\n\n    The fervent Dog,[207] bright with refulgent stars:\n\nnext the Hare follows[208]\n\n    Unwearied in his course. At the Dog's tail\n    Argo[209] moves on, and moving seems to sail;\n    O'er her the Ram and Fishes have their place;[210]\n    The illustrious vessel touches, in her pace,\n    The river's banks;[211]\n\nwhich you may see winding and extending itself to a great length.\n\n    The Fetters[212] at the Fishes' tails are hung.\n    By Nepa's[213] head behold the Altar stand,[214]\n    Which by the breath of southern winds is fann'd;\n\nnear which the Centaur[215]\n\n    Hastens his mingled parts to join beneath\n    The Serpent,[216] there extending his right hand,\n    To where you see the monstrous Scorpion stand,\n    Which he at the bright Altar fiercely slays.\n    Here on her lower parts see Hydra[217] raise\n    Herself;\n\nwhose bulk is very far extended.\n\n    Amid the winding of her body's placed\n    The shining Goblet;[218] and the glossy Crow[219]\n    Plunges his beak into her parts below.\n    Antecanis beneath the Twins is seen,\n    Call'd Procyon by the Greeks.[220]\n\nCan any one in his senses imagine that this disposition of the stars,\nand this heaven so beautifully adorned, could ever have been formed by\na fortuitous concourse of atoms? Or what other nature, being destitute\nof intellect and reason, could possibly have produced these effects,\nwhich not only required reason to bring them about, but the very\ncharacter of which could not be understood and appreciated without the\nmost strenuous exertions of well-directed reason?\n\nXLV. But our admiration is not limited to the objects here described.\nWhat is most wonderful is that the world is so durable, and so\nperfectly made for lasting that it is not to be impaired by time; for\nall its parts tend equally to the centre, and are bound together by a\nsort of chain, which surrounds the elements. This chain is nature,\nwhich being diffused through the universe, and performing all things\nwith judgment and reason, attracts the extremities to the centre.\n\nIf, then, the world is round, and if on that account all its parts,\nbeing of equal dimensions and relative proportions, mutually support\nand are supported by one another, it must follow that as all the parts\nincline to the centre (for that is the lowest place of a globe) there\nis nothing whatever which can put a stop to that propensity in the case\nof such great weights. For the same reason, though the sea is higher\nthan the earth, yet because it has the like tendency, it is collected\neverywhere, equally concentres, and never overflows, and is never\nwasted.\n\nThe air, which is contiguous, ascends by its lightness, but diffuses\nitself through the whole; therefore it is by nature joined and united\nto the sea, and at the same time borne by the same power towards the\nheaven, by the thinness and heat of which it is so tempered as to be\nmade proper to supply life and wholesome air for the support of\nanimated beings. This is encompassed by the highest region of the\nheavens, which is called the sky, which is joined to the extremity of\nthe air, but retains its own heat pure and unmixed.\n\nXLVI. The stars have their revolutions in the sky, and are continued by\nthe tendency of all parts towards the centre. Their duration is\nperpetuated by their form and figure, for they are round; which form,\nas I think has been before observed, is the least liable to injury; and\nas they are composed of fire, they are fed by the vapors which are\nexhaled by the sun from the earth, the sea, and other waters; but when\nthese vapors have nourished and refreshed the stars, and the whole sky,\nthey are sent back to be exhaled again; so that very little is lost or\nconsumed by the fire of the stars and the flame of the sky. Hence we\nStoics conclude--which Panaetius[221] is said to have doubted of--that\nthe whole world at last would be consumed by a general conflagration,\nwhen, all moisture being exhausted, neither the earth could have any\nnourishment, nor the air return again, since water, of which it is\nformed, would then be all consumed; so that only fire would subsist;\nand from this fire, which is an animating power and a Deity, a new\nworld would arise and be re-established in the same beauty.\n\nI should be sorry to appear to you to dwell too long upon this subject\nof the stars, and more especially upon that of the planets, whose\nmotions, though different, make a very just agreement. Saturn, the\nhighest, chills; Mars, placed in the middle, burns; while Jupiter,\ninterposing, moderates their excess, both of light and heat. The two\nplanets beneath Mars[222] obey the sun. The sun himself fills the whole\nuniverse with his own genial light; and the moon, illuminated by him,\ninfluences conception, birth, and maturity. And who is there who is not\nmoved by this union of things, and by this concurrence of nature\nagreeing together, as it were, for the safety of the world? And yet I\nfeel sure that none of these reflections have ever been made by these\nmen.\n\nXLVII. Let us proceed from celestial to terrestrial things. What is\nthere in them which does not prove the principle of an intelligent\nnature? First, as to vegetables; they have roots to sustain their\nstems, and to draw from the earth a nourishing moisture to support the\nvital principle which those roots contain. They are clothed with a rind\nor bark, to secure them more thoroughly from heat and cold. The vines\nwe see take hold on props with their tendrils, as if with hands, and\nraise themselves as if they were animated; it is even said that they\nshun cabbages and coleworts, as noxious and pestilential to them, and,\nif planted by them, will not touch any part.\n\nBut what a vast variety is there of animals! and how wonderfully is\nevery kind adapted to preserve itself! Some are covered with hides,\nsome clothed with fleeces, and some guarded with bristles; some are\nsheltered with feathers, some with scales; some are armed with horns,\nand some are furnished with wings to escape from danger. Nature hath\nalso liberally and plentifully provided for all animals their proper\nfood. I could expatiate on the judicious and curious formation and\ndisposition of their bodies for the reception and digestion of it, for\nall their interior parts are so framed and disposed that there is\nnothing superfluous, nothing that is not necessary for the preservation\nof life. Besides, nature has also given these beasts appetite and\nsense; in order that by the one they may be excited to procure\nsufficient sustenance, and by the other they may distinguish what is\nnoxious from what is salutary. Some animals seek their food walking,\nsome creeping, some flying, and some swimming; some take it with their\nmouth and teeth; some seize it with their claws, and some with their\nbeaks; some suck, some graze, some bolt it whole, and some chew it.\nSome are so low that they can with ease take such food as is to be\nfound on the ground; but the taller, as geese, swans, cranes, and\ncamels, are assisted by a length of neck. To the elephant is given a\nhand,[223] without which, from his unwieldiness of body, he would\nscarce have any means of attaining food.\n\nXLVIII. But to those beasts which live by preying on others, nature has\ngiven either strength or swiftness. On some animals she has even\nbestowed artifice and cunning; as on spiders, some of which weave a\nsort of net to entrap and destroy whatever falls into it, others sit on\nthe watch unobserved to fall on their prey and devour it. The naker--by\nthe Greeks called _Pinna_--has a kind of confederacy with the prawn for\nprocuring food. It has two large shells open, into which when the\nlittle fishes swim, the naker, having notice given by the bite of the\nprawn, closes them immediately. Thus, these little animals, though of\ndifferent kinds, seek their food in common; in which it is matter of\nwonder whether they associate by any agreement, or are naturally joined\ntogether from their beginning.\n\nThere is some cause to admire also the provision of nature in the case\nof those aquatic animals which are generated on land, such as\ncrocodiles, river-tortoises, and a certain kind of serpents, which seek\nthe water as soon as they are able to drag themselves along. We\nfrequently put duck-eggs under hens, by which, as by their true\nmothers, the ducklings are at first hatched and nourished; but when\nthey see the water, they forsake them and run to it, as to their\nnatural abode: so strong is the impression of nature in animals for\ntheir own preservation.\n\nXLIX. I have read that there is a bird called Platalea (the shoveller),\nthat lives by watching those fowls which dive into the sea for their\nprey, and when they return with it, he squeezes their heads with his\nbeak till they drop it, and then seizes on it himself. It is said\nlikewise that he is in the habit of filling his stomach with\nshell-fish, and when they are digested by the heat which exists in the\nstomach, they cast them up, and then pick out what is proper\nnourishment. The sea-frogs, they say, are wont to cover themselves with\nsand, and moving near the water, the fishes strike at them, as at a\nbait, and are themselves taken and devoured by the frogs. Between the\nkite and the crow there is a kind of natural war, and wherever the one\nfinds the eggs of the other, he breaks them.\n\nBut who is there who can avoid being struck with wonder at that which\nhas been noticed by Aristotle, who has enriched us with so many\nvaluable remarks? When the cranes[224] pass the sea in search of warmer\nclimes, they fly in the form of a triangle. By the first angle they\nrepel the resisting air; on each side, their wings serve as oars to\nfacilitate their flight; and the basis of their triangle is assisted by\nthe wind in their stern. Those which are behind rest their necks and\nheads on those which precede; and as the leader has not the same\nrelief, because he has none to lean upon, he at length flies behind\nthat he may also rest, while one of those which have been eased\nsucceeds him, and through the whole flight each regularly takes his\nturn.\n\nI could produce many instances of this kind; but these may suffice. Let\nus now proceed to things more familiar to us. The care of beasts for\ntheir own preservation, their circumspection while feeding, and their\nmanner of taking rest in their lairs, are generally known, but still\nthey are greatly to be admired.\n\nL. Dogs cure themselves by a vomit, the Egyptian ibis by a purge; from\nwhence physicians have lately--I mean but few ages since--greatly\nimproved their art. It is reported that panthers, which in barbarous\ncountries are taken with poisoned flesh, have a certain remedy[225]\nthat preserves them from dying; and that in Crete, the wild goats, when\nthey are wounded with poisoned arrows, seek for an herb called dittany,\nwhich, when they have tasted, the arrows (they say) drop from their\nbodies. It is said also that deer, before they fawn, purge themselves\nwith a little herb called hartswort.[226] Beasts, when they receive any\nhurt, or fear it, have recourse to their natural arms: the bull to his\nhorns, the boar to his tusks, and the lion to his teeth. Some take to\nflight, others hide themselves; the cuttle-fish vomits[227] blood; the\ncramp-fish benumbs; and there are many animals that, by their\nintolerable stink, oblige their pursuers to retire.\n\nLI. But that the beauty of the world might be eternal, great care has\nbeen taken by the providence of the Gods to perpetuate the different\nkinds of animals, and vegetables, and trees, and all those things which\nsink deep into the earth, and are contained in it by their roots and\ntrunks; in order to which every individual has within itself such\nfertile seed that many are generated from one; and in vegetables this\nseed is enclosed in the heart of their fruit, but in such abundance\nthat men may plentifully feed on it, and the earth be always replanted.\n\nWith regard to animals, do we not see how aptly they are formed for the\npropagation of their species? Nature for this end created some males\nand some females. Their parts are perfectly framed for generation, and\nthey have a wonderful propensity to copulation. When the seed has\nfallen on the matrix, it draws almost all the nourishment to itself, by\nwhich the foetus is formed; but as soon as it is discharged from\nthence, if it is an animal that is nourished by milk, almost all the\nfood of the mother turns into milk, and the animal, without any\ndirection but by the pure instinct of nature, immediately hunts for the\nteat, and is there fed with plenty. What makes it evidently appear that\nthere is nothing in this fortuitous, but the work of a wise and\nforeseeing nature, is, that those females which bring forth many young,\nas sows and bitches, have many teats, and those which bear a small\nnumber have but few. What tenderness do beasts show in preserving and\nraising up their young till they are able to defend themselves! They\nsay, indeed, that fish, when they have spawned, leave their eggs; but\nthe water easily supports them, and produces the young fry in\nabundance.\n\nLII. It is said, likewise, that tortoises and crocodiles, when they\nhave laid their eggs on the land, only cover them with earth, and then\nleave them, so that their young are hatched and brought up without\nassistance; but fowls and other birds seek for quiet places to lay in,\nwhere they build their nests in the softest manner, for the surest\npreservation of their eggs; which, when they have hatched, they defend\nfrom the cold by the warmth of their wings, or screen them from the\nsultry heat of the sun. When their young begin to be able to use their\nwings, they attend and instruct them; and then their cares are at an\nend.\n\nHuman art and industry are indeed necessary towards the preservation\nand improvement of certain animals and vegetables; for there are\nseveral of both kinds which would perish without that assistance. There\nare likewise innumerable facilities (being different in different\nplaces) supplied to man to aid him in his civilization, and in\nprocuring abundantly what he requires. The Nile waters Egypt, and after\nhaving overflowed and covered it the whole summer, it retires, and\nleaves the fields softened and manured for the reception of seed. The\nEuphrates fertilizes Mesopotamia, into which, as we may say, it carries\nyearly new fields.[228] The Indus, which is the largest of all\nrivers,[229] not only improves and cultivates the ground, but sows it\nalso; for it is said to carry with it a great quantity of grain. I\ncould mention many other countries remarkable for something singular,\nand many fields, which are, in their own natures, exceedingly fertile.\n\nLIII. But how bountiful is nature that has provided for us such an\nabundance of various and delicious food; and this varying with the\ndifferent seasons, so that we may be constantly pleased with change,\nand satisfied with abundance! How seasonable and useful to man, to\nbeasts, and even to vegetables, are the Etesian winds[230] she has\nbestowed, which moderate intemperate heat, and render navigation more\nsure and speedy! Many things must be omitted on a subject so\ncopious--and still a great deal must be said--for it is impossible to\nrelate the great utility of rivers, the flux and reflux of the sea, the\nmountains clothed with grass and trees, the salt-pits remote from the\nsea-coasts, the earth replete with salutary medicines, or, in short,\nthe innumerable designs of nature necessary for sustenance and the\nenjoyment of life. We must not forget the vicissitudes of day and\nnight, ordained for the health of animated beings, giving them a time\nto labor and a time to rest. Thus, if we every way examine the\nuniverse, it is apparent, from the greatest reason, that the whole is\nadmirably governed by a divine providence for the safety and\npreservation of all beings.\n\nIf it should be asked for whose sake this mighty fabric was raised,\nshall we say for trees and other vegetables, which, though destitute of\nsense, are supported by nature? That would be absurd. Is it for beasts?\nNothing can be less probable than that the Gods should have taken such\npains for beings void of speech and understanding. For whom, then, will\nany one presume to say that the world was made? Undoubtedly for\nreasonable beings; these are the Gods and men, who are certainly the\nmost perfect of all beings, as nothing is equal to reason. It is\ntherefore credible that the universe, and all things in it, were made\nfor the Gods and for men.\n\nBut we may yet more easily comprehend that the Gods have taken great\ncare of the interests and welfare of men, if we examine thoroughly into\nthe structure of the body, and the form and perfection of human nature.\nThere are three things absolutely necessary for the support of life--to\neat, to drink, and to breathe. For these operations the mouth is most\naptly framed, which, by the assistance of the nostrils, draws in the\nmore air.\n\nLIV. The teeth are there placed to divide and grind the food.[231] The\nfore-teeth, being sharp and opposite to each other, cut it asunder, and\nthe hind-teeth (called the grinders) chew it, in which office the\ntongue seems to assist. At the root of the tongue is the gullet, which\nreceives whatever is swallowed: it touches the tonsils on each side,\nand terminates at the interior extremity of the palate. When, by the\nmotions of the tongue, the food is forced into this passage, it\ndescends, and those parts of the gullet which are below it are dilated,\nand those above are contracted. There is another passage, called by\nphysicians the rough artery,[232] which reaches to the lungs, for the\nentrance and return of the air we breathe; and as its orifice is joined\nto the roots of the tongue a little above the part to which the gullet\nis annexed, it is furnished with a sort of coverlid,[233] lest, by the\naccidental falling of any food into it, the respiration should be\nstopped.\n\nAs the stomach, which is beneath the gullet, receives the meat and\ndrink, so the lungs and the heart draw in the air from without. The\nstomach is wonderfully composed, consisting almost wholly of nerves; it\nabounds with membranes and fibres, and detains what it receives,\nwhether solid or liquid, till it is altered and digested. It sometimes\ncontracts, sometimes dilates. It blends and mixes the food together, so\nthat it is easily concocted and digested by its force of heat, and by\nthe animal spirits is distributed into the other parts of the body.\n\nLV. As to the lungs, they are of a soft and spongy substance, which\nrenders them the most commodious for respiration; they alternately\ndilate and contract to receive and return the air, that what is the\nchief animal sustenance may be always fresh. The juice,[234] by which\nwe are nourished, being separated from the rest of the food, passes the\nstomach and intestines to the liver, through open and direct passages,\nwhich lead from the mesentery to the gates of the liver (for so they\ncall those vessels at the entrance of it). There are other passages\nfrom thence, through which the food has its course when it has passed\nthe liver. When the bile, and those humors which proceed from the\nkidneys, are separated from the food, the remaining part turns to\nblood, and flows to those vessels at the entrance of the liver to which\nall the passages adjoin. The chyle, being conveyed from this place\nthrough them into the vessel called the hollow vein, is mixed together,\nand, being already digested and distilled, passes into the heart; and\nfrom the heart it is communicated through a great number of veins to\nevery part of the body.\n\nIt is not difficult to describe how the gross remains are detruded by\nthe motion of the intestines, which contract and dilate; but that must\nbe declined, as too indelicate for discourse. Let us rather explain\nthat other wonder of nature, the air, which is drawn into the lungs,\nreceives heat both by that already in and by the coagitation of the\nlungs; one part is turned back by respiration, and the other is\nreceived into a place called the ventricle of the heart.[235] There is\nanother ventricle like it annexed to the heart, into which the blood\nflows from the liver through the hollow vein. Thus by one ventricle the\nblood is diffused to the extremities through the veins, and by the\nother the breath is communicated through the arteries; and there are\nsuch numbers of both dispersed through the whole body that they\nmanifest a divine art.\n\nWhy need I speak of the bones, those supports of the body, whose joints\nare so wonderfully contrived for stability, and to render the limbs\ncomplete with regard to motion and to every action of the body? Or need\nI mention the nerves, by which the limbs are governed--their many\ninterweavings, and their proceeding from the heart,[236] from whence,\nlike the veins and arteries, they have their origin, and are\ndistributed through the whole corporeal frame?\n\nLVI. To this skill of nature, and this care of providence, so diligent\nand so ingenious, many reflections may be added, which show what\nvaluable things the Deity has bestowed on man. He has made us of a\nstature tall and upright, in order that we might behold the heavens,\nand so arrive at the knowledge of the Gods; for men are not simply to\ndwell here as inhabitants of the earth, but to be, as it were,\nspectators of the heavens and the stars, which is a privilege not\ngranted to any other kind of animated beings. The senses, which are the\ninterpreters and messengers of things, are placed in the head, as in a\ntower, and wonderfully situated for their proper uses; for the eyes,\nbeing in the highest part, have the office of sentinels, in discovering\nto us objects; and the ears are conveniently placed in a high part of\nthe person, being appointed to receive sound, which naturally ascends.\nThe nostrils have the like situation, because all scent likewise\nascends; and they have, with great reason, a near vicinity to the\nmouth, because they assist us in judging of meat and drink. The taste,\nwhich is to distinguish the quality of what we take; is in that part of\nthe mouth where nature has laid open a passage for what we eat and\ndrink. But the touch is equally diffused through the whole body, that\nwe may not receive any blows, or the too rigid attacks of cold and\nheat, without feeling them. And as in building the architect averts\nfrom the eyes and nose of the master those things which must\nnecessarily be offensive, so has nature removed far from our senses\nwhat is of the same kind in the human body.\n\nLVII. What artificer but nature, whose direction is incomparable, could\nhave exhibited so much ingenuity in the formation of the senses? In the\nfirst place, she has covered and invested the eyes with the finest\nmembranes, which she hath made transparent, that we may see through\nthem, and firm in their texture, to preserve the eyes. She has made\nthem slippery and movable, that they might avoid what would offend\nthem, and easily direct the sight wherever they will. The actual organ\nof sight, which is called the pupil, is so small that it can easily\nshun whatever might be hurtful to it. The eyelids, which are their\ncoverings, are soft and smooth, that they may not injure the eyes; and\nare made to shut at the apprehension of any accident, or to open at\npleasure; and these movements nature has ordained to be made in an\ninstant: they are fortified with a sort of palisade of hairs, to keep\noff what may be noxious to them when open, and to be a fence to their\nrepose when sleep closes them, and allows them to rest as if they were\nwrapped up in a case. Besides, they are commodiously hidden and\ndefended by eminences on every side; for on the upper part the eyebrows\nturn aside the perspiration which falls from the head and forehead; the\ncheeks beneath rise a little, so as to protect them on the lower side;\nand the nose is placed between them as a wall of separation.\n\nThe hearing is always open, for that is a sense of which we are in need\neven while we are sleeping; and the moment that any sound is admitted\nby it we are awakened even from sleep. It has a winding passage, lest\nanything should slip into it, as it might if it were straight and\nsimple. Nature also hath taken the same precaution in making there a\nviscous humor, that if any little creatures should endeavor to creep\nin, they might stick in it as in bird-lime. The ears (by which we mean\nthe outward part) are made prominent, to cover and preserve the\nhearing, lest the sound should be dissipated and escape before the\nsense is affected. Their entrances are hard and horny, and their form\nwinding, because bodies of this kind better return and increase the\nsound. This appears in the harp, lute, or horn;[237] and from all\ntortuous and enclosed places sounds are returned stronger.\n\nThe nostrils, in like manner, are ever open, because we have a\ncontinual use for them; and their entrances also are rather narrow,\nlest anything noxious should enter them; and they have always a\nhumidity necessary for the repelling dust and many other extraneous\nbodies. The taste, having the mouth for an enclosure, is admirably\nsituated, both in regard to the use we make of it and to its security.\n\nLVIII. Besides, every human sense is much more exquisite than those of\nbrutes; for our eyes, in those arts which come under their judgment,\ndistinguish with great nicety; as in painting, sculpture, engraving,\nand in the gesture and motion of bodies. They understand the beauty,\nproportion, and, as I may so term it, the becomingness of colors and\nfigures; they distinguish things of greater importance, even virtues\nand vices; they know whether a man is angry or calm, cheerful or sad,\ncourageous or cowardly, bold or timorous.\n\nThe judgment of the ears is not less admirably and scientifically\ncontrived with regard to vocal and instrumental music. They distinguish\nthe variety of sounds, the measure, the stops, the different sorts of\nvoices, the treble and the base, the soft and the harsh, the sharp and\nthe flat, of which human ears only are capable to judge. There is\nlikewise great judgment in the smell, the taste, and the touch; to\nindulge and gratify which senses more arts have been invented than I\ncould wish: it is apparent to what excess we have arrived in the\ncomposition of our perfumes, the preparation of our food, and the\nenjoyment of corporeal pleasures.\n\nLIX. Again, he who does not perceive the soul and mind of man, his\nreason, prudence, and discernment, to be the work of a divine\nprovidence, seems himself to be destitute of those faculties. While I\nam on this subject, Cotta, I wish I had your eloquence: how would you\nillustrate so fine a subject! You would show the great extent of the\nunderstanding; how we collect our ideas, and join those which follow to\nthose which precede; establish principles, draw consequences, define\nthings separately, and comprehend them with accuracy; from whence you\ndemonstrate how great is the power of intelligence and knowledge, which\nis such that even God himself has no qualities more admirable. How\nvaluable (though you Academics despise and even deny that we have it)\nis our knowledge of exterior objects, from the perception of the senses\njoined to the application of the mind; by which we see in what relation\none thing stands to another, and by the aid of which we have invented\nthose arts which are necessary for the support and pleasure of life.\nHow charming is eloquence! How divine that mistress of the universe, as\nyou call it! It teaches us what we were ignorant of, and makes us\ncapable of teaching what we have learned. By this we exhort others; by\nthis we persuade them; by this we comfort the afflicted; by this we\ndeliver the affrighted from their fear; by this we moderate excessive\njoy; by this we assuage the passions of lust and anger. This it is\nwhich bound men by the chains of right and law, formed the bonds of\ncivil society, and made us quit a wild and savage life.\n\nAnd it will appear incredible, unless you carefully observe the facts,\nhow complete the work of nature is in giving us the use of speech; for,\nfirst of all, there is an artery from the lungs to the bottom of the\nmouth, through which the voice, having its original principle in the\nmind, is transmitted. Then the tongue is placed in the mouth, bounded\nby the teeth. It softens and modulates the voice, which would otherwise\nbe confusedly uttered; and, by pushing it to the teeth and other parts\nof the mouth, makes the sound distinct and articulate. We Stoics,\ntherefore, compare the tongue to the bow of an instrument, the teeth to\nthe strings, and the nostrils to the sounding-board.\n\nLX. But how commodious are the hands which nature has given to man, and\nhow beautifully do they minister to many arts! For, such is the\nflexibility of the joints, that our fingers are closed and opened\nwithout any difficulty. With their help, the hand is formed for\npainting, carving, and engraving; for playing on stringed instruments,\nand on the pipe. These are matters of pleasure. There are also works of\nnecessity, such as tilling the ground, building houses, making cloth\nand habits, and working in brass and iron. It is the business of the\nmind to invent, the senses to perceive, and the hands to execute; so\nthat if we have buildings, if we are clothed, if we live in safety, if\nwe have cities, walls, habitations, and temples, it is to the hands we\nowe them.\n\nBy our labor, that is, by our hands, variety and plenty of food are\nprovided; for, without culture, many fruits, which serve either for\npresent or future consumption, would not be produced; besides, we feed\non flesh, fish, and fowl, catching some, and bringing up others. We\nsubdue four-footed beasts for our carriage, whose speed and strength\nsupply our slowness and inability. On some we put burdens, on others\nyokes. We convert the sagacity of the elephant and the quick scent of\nthe dog to our own advantage. Out of the caverns of the earth we dig\niron, a thing entirely necessary for the cultivation of the ground. We\ndiscover the hidden veins of copper, silver, and gold, advantageous for\nour use and beautiful as ornaments. We cut down trees, and use every\nkind of wild and cultivated timber, not only to make fire to warm us\nand dress our meat, but also for building, that we may have houses to\ndefend us from the heat and cold. With timber likewise we build ships,\nwhich bring us from all parts every commodity of life. We are the only\nanimals who, from our knowledge of navigation, can manage what nature\nhas made the most violent--the sea and the winds. Thus we obtain from\nthe ocean great numbers of profitable things. We are the absolute\nmasters of what the earth produces. We enjoy the mountains and the\nplains. The rivers and the lakes are ours. We sow the seed, and plant\nthe trees. We fertilize the earth by overflowing it. We stop, direct,\nand turn the rivers: in short, by our hands we endeavor, by our various\noperations in this world, to make, as it were, another nature.\n\nLXI. But what shall I say of human reason? Has it not even entered the\nheavens? Man alone of all animals has observed the courses of the\nstars, their risings and settings. By man the day, the month, the year,\nis determined. He foresees the eclipses of the sun and moon, and\nforetells them to futurity, marking their greatness, duration, and\nprecise time. From the contemplation of these things the mind extracts\nthe knowledge of the Gods--a knowledge which produces piety, with which\nis connected justice, and all the other virtues; from which arises a\nlife of felicity, inferior to that of the Gods in no single particular,\nexcept in immortality, which is not absolutely necessary to happy\nliving. In explaining these things, I think that I have sufficiently\ndemonstrated the superiority of man to other animated beings; from\nwhence we should infer that neither the form and position of his limbs\nnor that strength of mind and understanding could possibly be the\neffect of chance.\n\nLXII. I am now to prove, by way of conclusion, that every thing in this\nworld of use to us was made designedly for us.\n\nFirst of all, the universe was made for the Gods and men, and all\nthings therein were prepared and provided for our service. For the\nworld is the common habitation or city of the Gods and men; for they\nare the only reasonable beings: they alone live by justice and law. As,\ntherefore, it must be presumed the cities of Athens and Lacedaemon were\nbuilt for the Athenians and Lacedaemonians, and as everything there is\nsaid to belong to those people, so everything in the universe may with\npropriety be said to belong to the Gods and men, and to them alone.\n\nIn the next place, though the revolutions of the sun, moon, and all the\nstars are necessary for the cohesion of the universe, yet may they be\nconsidered also as objects designed for the view and contemplation of\nman. There is no sight less apt to satiate the eye, none more\nbeautiful, or more worthy to employ our reason and penetration. By\nmeasuring their courses we find the different seasons, their durations\nand vicissitudes, which, if they are known to men alone, we must\nbelieve were made only for their sake.\n\nDoes the earth bring forth fruit and grain in such excessive abundance\nand variety for men or for brutes? The plentiful and exhilarating fruit\nof the vine and the olive-tree are entirely useless to beasts. They\nknow not the time for sowing, tilling, or for reaping in season and\ngathering in the fruits of the earth, or for laying up and preserving\ntheir stores. Man alone has the care and advantage of these things.\n\nLXIII. Thus, as the lute and the pipe were made for those, and those\nonly, who are capable of playing on them, so it must be allowed that\nthe produce of the earth was designed for those only who make use of\nthem; and though some beasts may rob us of a small part, it does not\nfollow that the earth produced it also for them. Men do not store up\ncorn for mice and ants, but for their wives, their children, and their\nfamilies. Beasts, therefore, as I said before, possess it by stealth,\nbut their masters openly and freely. It is for us, therefore, that\nnature hath provided this abundance. Can there be any doubt that this\nplenty and variety of fruit, which delight not only the taste, but the\nsmell and sight, was by nature intended for men only? Beasts are so far\nfrom being partakers of this design, that we see that even they\nthemselves were made for man; for of what utility would sheep be,\nunless for their wool, which, when dressed and woven, serves us for\nclothing? For they are not capable of anything, not even of procuring\ntheir own food, without the care and assistance of man. The fidelity of\nthe dog, his affectionate fawning on his master, his aversion to\nstrangers, his sagacity in finding game, and his vivacity in pursuit of\nit, what do these qualities denote but that he was created for our use?\nWhy need I mention oxen? We perceive that their backs were not formed\nfor carrying burdens, but their necks were naturally made for the yoke,\nand their strong broad shoulders to draw the plough. In the Golden Age,\nwhich poets speak of, they were so greatly beneficial to the husbandman\nin tilling the fallow ground that no violence was ever offered them,\nand it was even thought a crime to eat them:\n\n    The Iron Age began the fatal trade\n    Of blood, and hammer'd the destructive blade;\n    Then men began to make the ox to bleed,\n    And on the tamed and docile beast to feed[238].\n\nLXIV. It would take a long time to relate the advantages which we\nreceive from mules and asses, which undoubtedly were designed for our\nuse. What is the swine good for but to eat? whose life, Chrysippus\nsays, was given it but as salt[239] to keep it from putrefying; and as\nit is proper food for man, nature hath made no animal more fruitful.\nWhat a multitude of birds and fishes are taken by the art and\ncontrivance of man only, and which are so delicious to our taste that\none would be tempted sometimes to believe that this Providence which\nwatches over us was an Epicurean! Though we think there are some\nbirds--the alites and oscines[240], as our augurs call them--which were\nmade merely to foretell events.\n\nThe large savage beasts we take by hunting, partly for food, partly to\nexercise ourselves in imitation of martial discipline, and to use those\nwe can tame and instruct, as elephants, or to extract remedies for our\ndiseases and wounds, as we do from certain roots and herbs, the virtues\nof which are known by long use and experience. Represent to yourself\nthe whole earth and seas as if before your eyes. You will see the vast\nand fertile plains, the thick, shady mountains, the immense pasturage\nfor cattle, and ships sailing over the deep with incredible celerity;\nnor are our discoveries only on the face of the earth, but in its\nsecret recesses there are many useful things, which being made for man,\nby man alone are discovered.\n\nLXV. Another, and in my opinion the strongest, proof that the\nprovidence of the Gods takes care of us is divination, which both of\nyou, perhaps, will attack; you, Cotta, because Carneades took pleasure\nin inveighing against the Stoics; and you, Velleius, because there is\nnothing Epicurus ridicules so much as the prediction of events. Yet the\ntruth of divination appears in many places, on many occasions, often in\nprivate, but particularly in public concerns. We receive many\nintimations from the foresight and presages of augurs and auspices;\nfrom oracles, prophecies, dreams, and prodigies; and it often happens\nthat by these means events have proved happy to men, and imminent\ndangers have been avoided. This knowledge, therefore--call it either a\nkind of transport, or an art, or a natural faculty--is certainly found\nonly in men, and is a gift from the immortal Gods. If these proofs,\nwhen taken separately, should make no impression upon your mind, yet,\nwhen collected together, they must certainly affect you.\n\nBesides, the Gods not only provide for mankind universally, but for\nparticular men. You may bring this universality to gradually a smaller\nnumber, and again you may reduce that smaller number to individuals.\n\nLXVI. For if the reasons which I have given prove to all of us that the\nGods take care of all men, in every country, in every part of the world\nseparate from our continent, they take care of those who dwell on the\nsame land with us, from east to west; and if they regard those who\ninhabit this kind of great island, which we call the globe of the\nearth, they have the like regard for those who possess the parts of\nthis island--Europe, Asia, and Africa; and therefore they favor the\nparts of these parts, as Rome, Athens, Sparta, and Rhodes; and\nparticular men of these cities, separate from the whole; as Curius,\nFabricius, Coruncanius, in the war with Pyrrhus; in the first Punic\nwar, Calatinus, Duillius, Metellus, Lutatius; in the second, Maximus,\nMarcellus, Africanus; after these, Paullus, Gracchus, Cato; and in our\nfathers' times, Scipio, Laelius. Rome also and Greece have produced many\nillustrious men, who we cannot believe were so without the assistance\nof the Deity; which is the reason that the poets, Homer in particular,\njoined their chief heroes--Ulysses, Agamemnon, Diomedes, Achilles--to\ncertain Deities, as companions in their adventures and dangers.\nBesides, the frequent appearances of the Gods, as I have before\nmentioned, demonstrate their regard for cities and particular men. This\nis also apparent indeed from the foreknowledge of events, which we\nreceive either sleeping or waking. We are likewise forewarned of many\nthings by the entrails of victims, by presages, and many other means,\nwhich have been long observed with such exactness as to produce an art\nof divination.\n\nThere never, therefore, was a great man without divine inspiration. If\na storm should damage the corn or vineyard of a person, or any accident\nshould deprive him of some conveniences of life, we should not judge\nfrom thence that the Deity hates or neglects him. The Gods take care of\ngreat things, and disregard the small. But to truly great men all\nthings ever happen prosperously; as has been sufficiently asserted and\nproved by us Stoics, as well as by Socrates, the prince of\nphilosophers, in his discourses on the infinite advantages arising from\nvirtue.\n\nLXVII. This is almost the whole that hath occurred to my mind on the\nnature of the Gods, and what I thought proper to advance. Do you,\nCotta, if I may advise, defend the same cause. Remember that in Rome\nyou keep the first rank; remember that you are Pontifex; and as your\nschool is at liberty to argue on which side you please[241], do you\nrather take mine, and reason on it with that eloquence which you\nacquired by your rhetorical exercises, and which the Academy improved;\nfor it is a pernicious and impious custom to argue against the Gods,\nwhether it be done seriously, or only in pretence and out of sport.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n\nI. When Balbus had ended this discourse, then Cotta, with a smile,\nrejoined, You direct me too late which side to defend; for during the\ncourse of your argument I was revolving in my mind what objections to\nmake to what you were saying, not so much for the sake of opposition,\nas of obliging you to explain what I did not perfectly comprehend; and\nas every one may use his own judgment, it is scarcely possible for me\nto think in every instance exactly what you wish.\n\nYou have no idea, O Cotta, said Velleius, how impatient I am to hear\nwhat you have to say. For since our friend Balbus was highly delighted\nwith your discourse against Epicurus, I ought in my turn to be\nsolicitous to hear what you can say against the Stoics; and I therefore\nwill give you my best attention, for I believe you are, as usual, well\nprepared for the engagement.\n\nI wish, by Hercules! I were, replies Cotta; for it is more difficult to\ndispute with Lucilius than it was with you. Why so? says Velleius.\nBecause, replies Cotta, your Epicurus, in my opinion, does not contend\nstrongly for the Gods: he only, for the sake of avoiding any\nunpopularity or punishment, is afraid to deny their existence; for when\nhe asserts that the Gods are wholly inactive and regardless of\neverything, and that they have limbs like ours, but make no use of\nthem, he seems to jest with us, and to think it sufficient if he allows\nthat there are beings of any kind happy and eternal. But with regard to\nBalbus, I suppose you observed how many things were said by him, which,\nhowever false they may be, yet have a perfect coherence and connection;\ntherefore, my design, as I said, in opposing him, is not so much to\nconfute his principles as to induce him to explain what I do not\nclearly understand: for which reason, Balbus, I will give you the\nchoice, either to answer me every particular as I go on, or permit me\nto proceed without interruption. If you want any explanation, replies\nBalbus, I would rather you would propose your doubts singly; but if\nyour intention is rather to confute me than to seek instruction for\nyourself, it shall be as you please; I will either answer you\nimmediately on every point, or stay till you have finished your\ndiscourse.\n\nII. Very well, says Cotta; then let us proceed as our conversation\nshall direct. But before I enter on the subject, I have a word to say\nconcerning myself; for I am greatly influenced by your authority, and\nyour exhortation at the conclusion of your discourse, when you desired\nme to remember that I was Cotta and Pontifex; by which I presume you\nintimated that I should defend the sacred rites and religion and\nceremonies which we received from our ancestors. Most undoubtedly I\nalways have, and always shall defend them, nor shall the arguments\neither of the learned or unlearned ever remove the opinions which I\nhave imbibed from them concerning the worship of the immortal Gods. In\nmatters of religion I submit to the rules of the high-priests, T.\nCoruncanius, P. Scipio, and P. Scaevola; not to the sentiments of Zeno,\nCleanthes, or Chrysippus; and I pay a greater regard to what C. Laelius,\none of our augurs and wise men, has written concerning religion, in\nthat noble oration of his, than to the most eminent of the Stoics: and\nas the whole religion of the Romans at first consisted in sacrifices\nand divination by birds, to which have since been added predictions, if\nthe interpreters[242] of the Sibylline oracle or the aruspices have\nforetold any event from portents and prodigies, I have ever thought\nthat there was no point of all these holy things which deserved to be\ndespised. I have been even persuaded that Romulus, by instituting\ndivination, and Numa, by establishing sacrifices, laid the foundation\nof Rome, which undoubtedly would never have risen to such a height of\ngrandeur if the Gods had not been made propitious by this worship.\nThese, Balbus, are my sentiments both as a priest and as Cotta. But you\nmust bring me to your opinion by the force of your reason: for I have a\nright to demand from you, as a philosopher, a reason for the religion\nwhich you would have me embrace. But I must believe the religion of our\nancestors without any proof.\n\nIII. What proof, says Balbus, do you require of me? You have proposed,\nsays Cotta, four articles. First of all, you undertook to prove that\nthere \"are Gods;\" secondly, \"of what kind and character they are;\"\nthirdly, that \"the universe is governed by them;\" lastly, that \"they\nprovide for the welfare of mankind in particular.\" Thus, if I remember\nrightly, you divided your discourse. Exactly so, replies Balbus; but\nlet us see what you require.\n\nLet us examine, says Cotta, every proposition. The first one--that\nthere are Gods--is never contested but by the most impious of men; nay,\nthough it can never be rooted out of my mind, yet I believe it on the\nauthority of our ancestors, and not on the proofs which you have\nbrought. Why do you expect a proof from me, says Balbus, if you\nthoroughly believe it? Because, says Cotta, I come to this discussion\nas if I had never thought of the Gods, or heard anything concerning\nthem. Take me as a disciple wholly ignorant and unbiassed, and prove to\nme all the points which I ask.\n\nBegin, then, replies Balbus. I would first know, says Cotta, why you\nhave been so long in proving the existence of the Gods, which you said\nwas a point so very evident to all, that there was no need of any\nproof? In that, answers Balbus, I have followed your example, whom I\nhave often observed, when pleading in the Forum, to load the judge with\nall the arguments which the nature of your cause would permit. This\nalso is the practice of philosophers, and I have a right to follow it.\nBesides, you may as well ask me why I look upon you with two eyes,\nsince I can see you with one.\n\nIV. You shall judge, then, yourself, says Cotta, if this is a very just\ncomparison; for, when I plead, I do not dwell upon any point agreed to\nbe self-evident, because long reasoning only serves to confound the\nclearest matters; besides, though I might take this method in pleading,\nyet I should not make use of it in such a discourse as this, which\nrequires the nicest distinction. And with regard to your making use of\none eye only when you look on me, there is no reason for it, since\ntogether they have the same view; and since nature, to which you\nattribute wisdom, has been pleased to give us two passages by which we\nreceive light. But the truth is, that it was because you did not think\nthat the existence of the Gods was so evident as you could wish that\nyou therefore brought so many proofs. It was sufficient for me to\nbelieve it on the tradition of our ancestors; and since you disregard\nauthorities, and appeal to reason, permit my reason to defend them\nagainst yours. The proofs on which you found the existence of the Gods\ntend only to render a proposition doubtful that, in my opinion, is not\nso; I have not only retained in my memory the whole of these proofs,\nbut even the order in which you proposed them. The first was, that when\nwe lift up our eyes towards the heavens, we immediately conceive that\nthere is some divinity that governs those celestial bodies; on which\nyou quoted this passage--\n\n    Look up to the refulgent heaven above,\n    Which all men call, unanimously, Jove;\n\nintimating that we should invoke that as Jupiter, rather than our\nCapitoline Jove[243], or that it is evident to the whole world that\nthose bodies are Gods which Velleius and many others do not place even\nin the rank of animated beings.\n\nAnother strong proof, in your opinion, was that the belief of the\nexistence of the Gods was universal, and that mankind was daily more\nand more convinced of it. What! should an affair of such importance be\nleft to the decision of fools, who, by your sect especially, are called\nmadmen?\n\nV. But the Gods have appeared to us, as to Posthumius at the Lake\nRegillus, and to Vatienus in the Salarian Way: something you mentioned,\ntoo, I know not what, of a battle of the Locrians at Sagra. Do you\nbelieve that the Tyndaridae, as you called them; that is, men sprung\nfrom men, and who were buried in Lacedaemon, as we learn from Homer, who\nlived in the next age--do you believe, I say, that they appeared to\nVatienus on the road mounted on white horses, without any servant to\nattend them, to tell the victory of the Romans to a country fellow\nrather than to M. Cato, who was at that time the chief person of the\nsenate? Do you take that print of a horse's hoof which is now to be\nseen on a stone at Regillus to be made by Castor's horse? Should you\nnot believe, what is probable, that the souls of eminent men, such as\nthe Tyndaridae, are divine and immortal, rather than that those bodies\nwhich had been reduced to ashes should mount on horses, and fight in an\narmy? If you say that was possible, you ought to show how it is so, and\nnot amuse us with fabulous old women's stories.\n\nDo you take these for fabulous stories? says Balbus. Is not the temple,\nbuilt by Posthumius in honor of Castor and Pollux, to be seen in the\nForum? Is not the decree of the senate concerning Vatienus still\nsubsisting? As to the affair of Sagra, it is a common proverb among the\nGreeks; when they would affirm anything strongly, they say \"It is as\ncertain as what passed at Sagra.\" Ought not such authorities to move\nyou? You oppose me, replies Cotta, with stories, but I ask reasons of\nyou[244]. * * *\n\nVI. We are now to speak of predictions. No one can avoid what is to\ncome, and, indeed, it is commonly useless to know it; for it is a\nmiserable case to be afflicted to no purpose, and not to have even the\nlast, the common comfort, hope, which, according to your principles,\nnone can have; for you say that fate governs all things, and call that\nfate which has been true from all eternity. What advantage, then, is\nthe knowledge of futurity to us, or how does it assist us to guard\nagainst impending evils, since it will come inevitably?\n\nBut whence comes that divination? To whom is owing that knowledge from\nthe entrails of beasts? Who first made observations from the voice of\nthe crow? Who invented the Lots?[245] Not that I give no credit to\nthese things, or that I despise Attius Navius's staff, which you\nmentioned; but I ought to be informed how these things are understood\nby philosophers, especially as the diviners are often wrong in their\nconjectures. But physicians, you say, are likewise often mistaken. What\ncomparison can there be between divination, of the origin of which we\nare ignorant, and physic, which proceeds on principles intelligible to\nevery one? You believe that the Decii,[246] in devoting themselves to\ndeath, appeased the Gods. How great, then, was the iniquity of the Gods\nthat they could not be appeased but at the price of such noble blood!\nThat was the stratagem of generals such as the Greeks call [Greek:\nstrategema], and it was a stratagem worthy such illustrious leaders,\nwho consulted the public good even at the expense of their lives: they\nconceived rightly, what indeed happened, that if the general rode\nfuriously upon the enemy, the whole army would follow his example. As\nto the voice of the Fauns, I never heard it. If you assure me that you\nhave, I shall believe you, though I really know not what a Faun is.\n\nVII. I do not, then, O Balbus, from anything that you have said,\nperceive as yet that it is proved that there are Gods. I believe it,\nindeed, but not from any arguments of the Stoics. Cleanthes, you have\nsaid, attributes the idea that men have of the Gods to four causes. In\nthe first place (as I have already sufficiently mentioned), to a\nforeknowledge of future events; secondly, to tempests, and other shocks\nof nature; thirdly, to the utility and plenty of things we enjoy;\nfourthly, to the invariable order of the stars and the heavens. The\narguments drawn from foreknowledge I have already answered. With regard\nto tempests in the air, the sea, and the earth, I own that many people\nare affrighted by them, and imagine that the immortal Gods are the\nauthors of them.\n\nBut the question is, not whether there are people who believe that\nthere are Gods, but whether there are Gods or not. As to the two other\ncauses of Cleanthes, one of which is derived from the great abundance\nof desirable things which we enjoy, the other from the invariable order\nof the seasons and the heavens, I shall treat on them when I answer\nyour discourse concerning the providence of the Gods--a point, Balbus,\nupon which you have spoken at great length. I shall likewise defer till\nthen examining the argument which you attribute to Chrysippus, that \"if\nthere is in nature anything which surpasses the power of man to\nproduce, there must consequently be some being better than man.\" I\nshall also postpone, till we come to that part of my argument, your\ncomparison of the world to a fine house, your observations on the\nproportion and harmony of the universe, and those smart, short reasons\nof Zeno which you quote; and I shall examine at the same time your\nreasons drawn from natural philosophy, concerning that fiery force and\nthat vital heat which you regard as the principle of all things; and I\nwill investigate, in its proper place, all that you advanced the other\nday on the existence of the Gods, and on the sense and understanding\nwhich you attributed to the sun, the moon, and all the stars; and I\nshall ask you this question over and over again, By what proofs are you\nconvinced yourself there are Gods?\n\nVIII. I thought, says Balbus, that I had brought ample proofs to\nestablish this point. But such is your manner of opposing, that, when\nyou seem on the point of interrogating me, and when I am preparing to\nanswer, you suddenly divert the discourse, and give me no opportunity\nto reply to you; and thus those most important points concerning\ndivination and fate are neglected which we Stoics have thoroughly\nexamined, but which your school has only slightly touched upon. But\nthey are not thought essential to the question in hand; therefore, if\nyou think proper, do not confuse them together, that we in this\ndiscussion may come to a clear explanation of the subject of our\npresent inquiry.\n\nVery well, says Cotta. Since, then, you have divided the whole question\ninto four parts, and I have said all that I had to say on the first, I\nwill take the second into consideration; in which, when you attempted\nto show what the character of the Gods was, you seemed to me rather to\nprove that there are none; for you said that it was the greatest\ndifficulty to draw our minds from the prepossessions of the eyes; but\nthat as nothing is more excellent than the Deity, you did not doubt\nthat the world was God, because there is nothing better in nature than\nthe world, and so we may reasonably think it animated, or, rather,\nperceive it in our minds as clearly as if it were obvious to our eyes.\n\nNow, in what sense do you say there is nothing better than the world?\nIf you mean that there is nothing more beautiful, I agree with you;\nthat there is nothing more adapted to our wants, I likewise agree with\nyou: but if you mean that nothing is wiser than the world, I am by no\nmeans of your opinion. Not that I find it difficult to conceive\nanything in my mind independent of my eyes; on the contrary, the more I\nseparate my mind from my eyes, the less I am able to comprehend your\nopinion.\n\nIX. Nothing is better than the world, you say. Nor is there, indeed,\nanything on earth better than the city of Rome; do you think,\ntherefore, that our city has a mind; that it thinks and reasons; or\nthat this most beautiful city, being void of sense, is not preferable\nto an ant, because an ant has sense, understanding, reason, and memory?\nYou should consider, Balbus, what ought to be allowed you, and not\nadvance things because they please you.\n\nFor that old, concise, and, as it seemed to you, acute syllogism of\nZeno has been all which you have so much enlarged upon in handling this\ntopic: \"That which reasons is superior to that which does not; nothing\nis superior to the world; therefore the world reasons.\" If you would\nprove also that the world can very well read a book, follow the example\nof Zeno, and say, \"That which can read is better than that which\ncannot; nothing is better than the world; the world therefore can\nread.\" After the same manner you may prove the world to be an orator, a\nmathematician, a musician--that it possesses all sciences, and, in\nshort, is a philosopher. You have often said that God made all things,\nand that no cause can produce an effect unlike itself. From hence it\nwill follow, not only that the world is animated, and is wise, but also\nplays upon the fiddle and the flute, because it produces men who play\non those instruments. Zeno, therefore, the chief of your sect, advances\nno argument sufficient to induce us to think that the world reasons,\nor, indeed, that it is animated at all, and consequently none to think\nit a Deity; though it may be said that there is nothing superior to it,\nas there is nothing more beautiful, nothing more useful to us, nothing\nmore adorned, and nothing more regular in its motions. But if the\nworld, considered as one great whole, is not God, you should not surely\ndeify, as you have done, that infinite multitude of stars which only\nform a part of it, and which so delight you with the regularity of\ntheir eternal courses; not but that there is something truly wonderful\nand incredible in their regularity; but this regularity of motion,\nBalbus, may as well be ascribed to a natural as to a divine cause.\n\nX. What can be more regular than the flux and reflux of the Euripus at\nChalcis, the Sicilian sea, and the violence of the ocean in those\nparts[247]\n\n                        where the rapid tide\n    Does Europe from the Libyan coast divide?\n\nThe same appears on the Spanish and British coasts. Must we conclude\nthat some Deity appoints and directs these ebbings and flowings to\ncertain fixed times? Consider, I pray, if everything which is regular\nin its motion is deemed divine, whether it will not follow that tertian\nand quartan agues must likewise be so, as their returns have the\ngreatest regularity. These effects are to be explained by reason; but,\nbecause you are unable to assign any, you have recourse to a Deity as\nyour last refuge.\n\nThe arguments of Chrysippus appeared to you of great weight; a man\nundoubtedly of great quickness and subtlety (I call those quick who\nhave a sprightly turn of thought, and those subtle whose minds are\nseasoned by use as their hands are by labor): \"If,\" says he, \"there is\nanything which is beyond the power of man to produce, the being who\nproduces it is better than man. Man is unable to make what is in the\nworld; the being, therefore, that could do it is superior to man. What\nbeing is there but a God superior to man? Therefore there is a God.\"\n\nThese arguments are founded on the same erroneous principles as Zeno's,\nfor he does not define what is meant by being better or more excellent,\nor distinguish between an intelligent cause and a natural cause.\nChrysippus adds, \"If there are no Gods, there is nothing better than\nman; but we cannot, without the highest arrogance, have this idea of\nourselves.\" Let us grant that it is arrogance in man to think himself\nbetter than the world; but to comprehend that he has understanding and\nreason, and that in Orion and Canicula there is neither, is no\narrogance, but an indication of good sense. \"Since we suppose,\"\ncontinues he, \"when we see a beautiful house, that it was built for the\nmaster, and not for mice, we should likewise judge that the world is\nthe mansion of the Gods.\" Yes, if I believed that the Gods built the\nworld; but not if, as I believe, and intend to prove, it is the work of\nnature.\n\nXI. Socrates, in Xenophon, asks, \"Whence had man his understanding, if\nthere was none in the world?\" And I ask, Whence had we speech, harmony,\nsinging; unless we think it is the sun conversing with the moon when\nshe approaches near it, or that the world forms an harmonious concert,\nas Pythagoras imagines? This, Balbus, is the effect of nature; not of\nthat nature which proceeds artificially, as Zeno says, and the\ncharacter of which I shall presently examine into, but a nature which,\nby its own proper motions and mutations, modifies everything.\n\nFor I readily agree to what you said about the harmony and general\nagreement of nature, which you pronounced to be firmly bound and united\ntogether, as it were, by ties of blood; but I do not approve of what\nyou added, that \"it could not possibly be so, unless it were so united\nby one divine spirit.\" On the contrary, the whole subsists by the power\nof nature, independently of the Gods, and there is a kind of sympathy\n(as the Greeks call it) which joins together all the parts of the\nuniverse; and the greater that is in its own power, the less is it\nnecessary to have recourse to a divine intelligence.\n\nXII. But how will you get rid of the objections which Carneades made?\n\"If,\" says he, \"there is no body immortal, there is none eternal; but\nthere is no body immortal, nor even indivisible, or that cannot be\nseparated and disunited; and as every animal is in its nature passive,\nso there is not one which is not subject to the impressions of\nextraneous bodies; none, that is to say, which can avoid the necessity\nof enduring and suffering: and if every animal is mortal, there is none\nimmortal; so, likewise, if every animal may be cut up and divided,\nthere is none indivisible, none eternal, but all are liable to be\naffected by, and compelled to submit to, external power. Every animal,\ntherefore, is necessarily mortal, dissoluble, and divisible.\"\n\nFor as there is no wax, no silver, no brass which cannot be converted\ninto something else, whatever is composed of wax, or silver, or brass\nmay cease to be what it is. By the same reason, if all the elements are\nmutable, every body is mutable.\n\nNow, according to your doctrine, all the elements are mutable; all\nbodies, therefore, are mutable. But if there were any body immortal,\nthen all bodies would not be mutable. Every body, then, is mortal; for\nevery body is either water, air, fire, or earth, or composed of the\nfour elements together, or of some of them. Now, there is not one of\nall these elements that does not perish; for earthly bodies are\nfragile: water is so soft that the least shock will separate its parts,\nand fire and air yield to the least impulse, and are subject to\ndissolution; besides, any of these elements perish when converted into\nanother nature, as when water is formed from earth, the air from water,\nand the sky from air, and when they change in the same manner back\nagain. Therefore, if there is nothing but what is perishable in the\ncomposition of all animals, there is no animal eternal.\n\nXIII. But, not to insist on these arguments, there is no animal to be\nfound that had not a beginning, and will not have an end; for every\nanimal being sensitive, they are consequently all sensible of cold and\nheat, sweet and bitter; nor can they have pleasing sensations without\nbeing subject to the contrary. As, therefore, they receive pleasure,\nthey likewise receive pain; and whatever being is subject to pain must\nnecessarily be subject to death. It must be allowed, therefore, that\nevery animal is mortal.\n\nBesides, a being that is not sensible of pleasure or pain cannot have\nthe essence of an animal; if, then, on the one hand, every animal must\nbe sensible of pleasure and pain, and if, on the other, every being\nthat has these sensations cannot be immortal, we may conclude that as\nthere is no animal insensible, there is none immortal. Besides, there\nis no animal without inclination and aversion--an inclination to that\nwhich is agreeable to nature, and an aversion to the contrary: there\nare in the case of every animal some things which they covet, and\nothers they reject. What they reject are repugnant to their nature, and\nconsequently would destroy them. Every animal, therefore, is inevitably\nsubject to be destroyed. There are innumerable arguments to prove that\nwhatever is sensitive is perishable; for cold, heat, pleasure, pain,\nand all that affects the sense, when they become excessive, cause\ndestruction. Since, then, there is no animal that is not sensitive,\nthere is none immortal.\n\nXIV. The substance of an animal is either simple or compound; simple,\nif it is composed only of earth, of fire, of air, or of water (and of\nsuch a sort of being we can form no idea); compound, if it is formed of\ndifferent elements, which have each their proper situation, and have a\nnatural tendency to it--this element tending towards the highest parts,\nthat towards the lowest, and another towards the middle. This\nconjunction may for some time subsist, but not forever; for every\nelement must return to its first situation. No animal, therefore, is\neternal.\n\nBut your school, Balbus, allows fire only to be the sole active\nprinciple; an opinion which I believe you derive from Heraclitus, whom\nsome men understand in one sense, some in another: but since he seems\nunwilling to be understood, we will pass him by. You Stoics, then, say\nthat fire is the universal principle of all things; that all living\nbodies cease to live on the extinction of that heat; and that\nthroughout all nature whatever is sensible of that heat lives and\nflourishes. Now, I cannot conceive that bodies should perish for want\nof heat, rather than for want of moisture or air, especially as they\neven die through excess of heat; so that the life of animals does not\ndepend more on fire than on the other elements.\n\nHowever, air and water have this quality in common with fire and heat.\nBut let us see to what this tends. If I am not mistaken, you believe\nthat in all nature there is nothing but fire, which is self-animated.\nWhy fire rather than air, of which the life of animals consists, and\nwhich is called from thence _anima_,[248] the soul? But how is it that\nyou take it for granted that life is nothing but fire? It seems more\nprobable that it is a compound of fire and air. But if fire is\nself-animated, unmixed with any other element, it must be sensitive,\nbecause it renders our bodies sensitive; and the same objection which I\njust now made will arise, that whatever is sensitive must necessarily\nbe susceptible of pleasure and pain, and whatever is sensible of pain\nis likewise subject to the approach of death; therefore you cannot\nprove fire to be eternal.\n\nYou Stoics hold that all fire has need of nourishment, without which it\ncannot possibly subsist; that the sun, moon, and all the stars are fed\neither with fresh or salt waters; and the reason that Cleanthes gives\nwhy the sun is retrograde, and does not go beyond the tropics in the\nsummer or winter, is that he may not be too far from his sustenance.\nThis I shall fully examine hereafter; but at present we may conclude\nthat whatever may cease to be cannot of its own nature be eternal; that\nif fire wants sustenance, it will cease to be, and that, therefore,\nfire is not of its own nature eternal.\n\nXV. After all, what kind of a Deity must that be who is not graced with\none single virtue, if we should succeed in forming this idea of such a\none? Must we not attribute prudence to a Deity? a virtue which consists\nin the knowledge of things good, bad, and indifferent. Yet what need\nhas a being for the discernment of good and ill who neither has nor can\nhave any ill? Of what use is reason to him? of what use is\nunderstanding? We men, indeed, find them useful to aid us in finding\nout things which are obscure by those which are clear to us; but\nnothing can be obscure to a Deity. As to justice, which gives to every\none his own, it is not the concern of the Gods; since that virtue,\naccording to your doctrine, received its birth from men and from civil\nsociety. Temperance consists in abstinence from corporeal pleasures,\nand if such abstinence hath a place in heaven, so also must the\npleasures abstained from. Lastly, if fortitude is ascribed to the\nDeity, how does it appear? In afflictions, in labor, in danger? None of\nthese things can affect a God. How, then, can we conceive this to be a\nDeity that makes no use of reason, and is not endowed with any virtue?\n\nHowever, when I consider what is advanced by the Stoics, my contempt\nfor the ignorant multitude vanishes. For these are their divinities.\nThe Syrians worshipped a fish. The Egyptians consecrated beasts of\nalmost every kind. The Greeks deified many men; as Alabandus[249] at\nAlabandae, Tenes at Tenedos; and all Greece pay divine honors to\nLeucothea (who was before called Ino), to her son Palaemon, to Hercules,\nto AEsculapius, and to the Tyndaridae; our own people to Romulus, and to\nmany others, who, as citizens newly admitted into the ancient body,\nthey imagine have been received into heaven.\n\nThese are the Gods of the illiterate.\n\nXVI. What are the notions of you philosophers? In what respect are they\nsuperior to these ideas? I shall pass them over; for they are certainly\nvery admirable. Let the world, then, be a Deity, for that, I conceive,\nis what you mean by\n\n              The refulgent heaven above,\n    Which all men call, unanimously, Jove.\n\nBut why are we to add many more Gods? What a multitude of them there\nis! At least, it seems so to me; for every constellation, according to\nyou, is a Deity: to some you give the name of beasts, as the goat, the\nscorpion, the bull, the lion; to others the names of inanimate things,\nas the ship, the altar, the crown.\n\nBut supposing these were to be allowed, how can the rest be granted, or\neven so much as understood? When we call corn Ceres, and wine Bacchus,\nwe make use of the common manner of speaking; but do you think any one\nso mad as to believe that his food is a Deity? With regard to those\nwho, you say, from having been men became Gods, I should be very\nwilling to learn of you, either how it was possible formerly, or, if it\nhad ever been, why is it not so now? I do not conceive, as things are\nat present, how Hercules,\n\n    Burn'd with fiery torches on Mount Oeta,\n\nas Accius says, should rise, with the flames,\n\n    To the eternal mansions of his father.\n\nBesides, Homer also says that Ulysses[250] met him in the shades below,\namong the other dead.\n\nBut yet I should be glad to know which Hercules we should chiefly\nworship; for they who have searched into those histories, which are but\nlittle known, tell us of several. The most ancient is he who fought\nwith Apollo about the Tripos of Delphi, and is son of Jupiter and\nLisyto; and of the most ancient Jupiters too, for we find many Jupiters\nalso in the Grecian chronicles. The second is the Egyptian Hercules,\nand is believed to be the son of Nilus, and to be the author of the\nPhrygian characters. The third, to whom they offered sacrifices, is one\nof the Idaei Dactyli.[251] The fourth is the son of Jupiter and Asteria,\nthe sister of Latona, chiefly honored by the Tyrians, who pretend that\nCarthago[252] is his daughter. The fifth, called Belus, is worshipped\nin India. The sixth is the son of Alcmena by Jupiter; but by the third\nJupiter, for there are many Jupiters, as you shall soon see.\n\nXVII. Since this examination has led me so far, I will convince you\nthat in matters of religion I have learned more from the pontifical\nrites, the customs of our ancestors, and the vessels of Numa,[253]\nwhich Laelius mentions in his little Golden Oration, than from all the\nlearning of the Stoics; for tell me, if I were a disciple of your\nschool, what answer could I make to these questions? If there are Gods,\nare nymphs also Goddesses? If they are Goddesses, are Pans and Satyrs\nin the same rank? But they are not; consequently, nymphs are not\nGoddesses. Yet they have temples publicly dedicated to them. What do\nyou conclude from thence? Others who have temples are not therefore\nGods. But let us go on. You call Jupiter and Neptune Gods; their\nbrother Pluto, then, is one; and if so, those rivers also are Deities\nwhich they say flow in the infernal regions--Acheron, Cocytus,\nPyriphlegethon; Charon also, and Cerberus, are Gods; but that cannot be\nallowed; nor can Pluto be placed among the Deities. What, then, will\nyou say of his brothers?\n\nThus reasons Carneades; not with any design to destroy the existence of\nthe Gods (for what would less become a philosopher?), but to convince\nus that on that matter the Stoics have said nothing plausible. If,\nthen, Jupiter and Neptune are Gods, adds he, can that divinity be\ndenied to their father Saturn, who is principally worshipped throughout\nthe West? If Saturn is a God, then must his father, Coelus, be one too,\nand so must the parents of Coelus, which are the Sky and Day, as also\ntheir brothers and sisters, which by ancient genealogists are thus\nnamed: Love, Deceit, Fear, Labor, Envy, Fate, Old Age, Death, Darkness,\nMisery, Lamentation, Favor, Fraud, Obstinacy, the Destinies, the\nHesperides, and Dreams; all which are the offspring of Erebus and\nNight. These monstrous Deities, therefore, must be received, or else\nthose from whom they sprung must be disallowed.\n\nXVIII. If you say that Apollo, Vulcan, Mercury, and the rest of that\nsort are Gods, can you doubt the divinity of Hercules and AEsculapius,\nBacchus, Castor and Pollux? These are worshipped as much as those, and\neven more in some places. Therefore they must be numbered among the\nGods, though on the mother's side they are only of mortal race.\nAristaeus, who is said to have been the son of Apollo, and to have found\nout the art of making oil from the olive; Theseus, the son of Neptune;\nand the rest whose fathers were Deities, shall they not be placed in\nthe number of the Gods? But what think you of those whose mothers were\nGoddesses? They surely have a better title to divinity; for, in the\ncivil law, as he is a freeman who is born of a freewoman, so, in the\nlaw of nature, he whose mother is a Goddess must be a God. The isle\nAstypalaea religiously honor Achilles; and if he is a Deity, Orpheus and\nRhesus are so, who were born of one of the Muses; unless, perhaps,\nthere may be a privilege belonging to sea marriages which land\nmarriages have not. Orpheus and Rhesus are nowhere worshipped; and if\nthey are therefore not Gods, because they are nowhere worshipped as\nsuch, how can the others be Deities? You, Balbus, seemed to agree with\nme that the honors which they received were not from their being\nregarded as immortals, but as men richly endued with virtue.\n\nBut if you think Latona a Goddess, how can you avoid admitting Hecate\nto be one also, who was the daughter of Asteria, Latona's sister?\nCertainly she is one, if we may judge by the altars erected to her in\nGreece. And if Hecate is a Goddess, how can you refuse that rank to the\nEumenides? for they also have a temple at Athens, and, if I understand\nright, the Romans have consecrated a grove to them. The Furies, too,\nwhom we look upon as the inspectors into and scourges of impiety, I\nsuppose, must have their divinity too. As you hold that there is some\ndivinity presides over every human affair, there is one who presides\nover the travail of matrons, whose name, _Natio_, is derived _a\nnascentibus_, from nativities, and to whom we used to sacrifice in our\nprocessions in the fields of Ardaea; but if she is a Deity, we must\nlikewise acknowledge all those you mentioned, Honor, Faith, Intellect,\nConcord; by the same rule also, Hope, Juno, Moneta,[254] and every idle\nphantom, every child of our imagination, are Deities. But as this\nconsequence is quite inadmissible, do not you either defend the cause\nfrom which it flows.\n\nXIX. What say you to this? If these are Deities, which we worship and\nregard as such, why are not Serapis and Isis[255] placed in the same\nrank? And if they are admitted, what reason have we to reject the Gods\nof the barbarians? Thus we should deify oxen, horses, the ibis, hawks,\nasps, crocodiles, fishes, dogs, wolves, cats, and many other beasts. If\nwe go back to the source of this superstition, we must equally condemn\nall the Deities from which they proceed. Shall Ino, whom the Greeks\ncall Leucothea, and we Matuta, be reputed a Goddess, because she was\nthe daughter of Cadmus, and shall that title be refused to Circe and\nPasiphae,[256] who had the sun for their father, and Perseis, daughter\nof the Ocean, for their mother? It is true, Circe has divine honors\npaid her by our colony of Circaeum; therefore you call her a Goddess;\nbut what will you say of Medea, the granddaughter of the Sun and the\nOcean, and daughter of AEetes and Idyia? What will you say of her\nbrother Absyrtus, whom Pacuvius calls AEgialeus, though the other name\nis more frequent in the writings of the ancients? If you did not deify\none as well as the other, what will become of Ino? for all these\nDeities have the same origin.\n\nShall Amphiaraus and Tryphonius be called Gods? Our publicans, when\nsome lands in Boeotia were exempted from the tax, as belonging to the\nimmortal Gods, denied that any were immortal who had been men. But if\nyou deify these, Erechtheus surely is a God, whose temple and priest we\nhave seen at Athens. And can you, then, refuse to acknowledge also\nCodrus, and many others who shed their blood for the preservation of\ntheir country? And if it is not allowable to consider all these men as\nGods, then, certainly, probabilities are not in favor of our\nacknowledging the _Divinity_ of those previously mentioned beings from\nwhom these have proceeded.\n\nIt is easy to observe, likewise, that if in many countries people have\npaid divine honors to the memory of those who have signalized their\ncourage, it was done in order to animate others to practise virtue, and\nto expose themselves the more willingly to dangers in their country's\ncause. From this motive the Athenians have deified Erechtheus and his\ndaughters, and have erected also a temple, called Leocorion, to the\ndaughters of Leus.[257] Alabandus is more honored in the city which he\nfounded than any of the more illustrious Deities; from thence\nStratonicus had a pleasant turn--as he had many--when he was troubled\nwith an impertinent fellow who insisted that Alabandus was a God, but\nthat Hercules was not; \"Very well,\" says he, \"then let the anger of\nAlabandus fall upon me, and that of Hercules upon you.\"\n\nXX. Do you not consider, Balbus, to what lengths your arguments for the\ndivinity of the heaven and the stars will carry you? You deify the sun\nand the moon, which the Greeks take to be Apollo and Diana. If the moon\nis a Deity, the morning-star, the other planets, and all the fixed\nstars are also Deities; and why shall not the rainbow be placed in that\nnumber? for it is so wonderfully beautiful that it is justly said to be\nthe daughter of Thaumas.[258] But if you deify the rainbow, what regard\nwill you pay to the clouds? for the colors which appear in the bow are\nonly formed of the clouds, one of which is said to have brought forth\nthe Centaurs; and if you deify the clouds, you cannot pay less regard\nto the seasons, which the Roman people have really consecrated.\nTempests, showers, storms, and whirlwinds must then be Deities. It is\ncertain, at least, that our captains used to sacrifice a victim to the\nwaves before they embarked on any voyage.\n\nAs you deify the earth under the name of Ceres,[259] because, as you\nsaid, she bears fruits (_a gerendo_), and the ocean under that of\nNeptune, rivers and fountains have the same right. Thus we see that\nMaso, the conqueror of Corsica, dedicated a temple to a fountain, and\nthe names of the Tiber, Spino, Almo, Nodinus, and other neighboring\nrivers are in the prayers[260] of the augurs. Therefore, either the\nnumber of such Deities will be infinite, or we must admit none of them,\nand wholly disapprove of such an endless series of superstition.\n\nXXI. None of all these assertions, then, are to be admitted. I must\nproceed now, Balbus, to answer those who say that, with regard to those\ndeified mortals, so religiously and devoutly reverenced, the public\nopinion should have the force of reality. To begin, then: they who are\ncalled theologists say that there are three Jupiters; the first and\nsecond of whom were born in Arcadia; one of whom was the son of AEther,\nand father of Proserpine and Bacchus; the other the son of Coelus, and\nfather of Minerva, who is called the Goddess and inventress of war; the\nthird one born of Saturn in the isle of Crete,[261] where his sepulchre\nis shown. The sons of Jupiter ([Greek: Dioskouroi]) also, among the\nGreeks, have many names; first, the three who at Athens have the title\nof Anactes,[262] Tritopatreus, Eubuleus, and Dionysus, sons of the most\nancient king Jupiter and Proserpine; the next are Castor and Pollux,\nsons of the third Jupiter and Leda; and, lastly, three others, by some\ncalled Alco,[263] Melampus, and Tmolus, sons of Atreus, the son of\nPelops.\n\nAs to the Muses, there were at first four--Thelxiope, Aoede, Arche, and\nMelete--daughters of the second Jupiter; afterward there were nine,\ndaughters of the third Jupiter and Mnemosyne; there were also nine\nothers, having the same appellations, born of Pierus and Antiopa, by\nthe poets usually called Pierides and Pieriae. Though _Sol_ (the sun) is\nso called, you say, because he is _solus_ (single); yet how many suns\ndo theologists mention? There is one, the son of Jupiter and grandson\nof AEther; another, the son of Hyperion; a third, who, the Egyptians\nsay, was of the city Heliopolis, sprung from Vulcan, the son of Nilus;\na fourth is said to have been born at Rhodes of Acantho, in the times\nof the heroes, and was the grandfather of Jalysus, Camirus, and Lindus;\na fifth, of whom, it is pretended, Aretes and Circe were born at\nColchis.\n\nXXII. There are likewise several Vulcans. The first (who had of Minerva\nthat Apollo whom the ancient historians call the tutelary God of\nAthens) was the son of Coelus; the second, whom the Egyptians call\nOpas,[264] and whom they looked upon as the protector of Egypt, is the\nson of Nilus; the third, who is said to have been the master of the\nforges at Lemnos, was the son of the third Jupiter and of Juno; the\nfourth, who possessed the islands near Sicily called Vulcaniae,[265] was\nthe son of Menalius. One Mercury had Coelus for his father and Dies for\nhis mother; another, who is said to dwell in a cavern, and is the same\nas Trophonius, is the son of Valens and Phoronis. A third, of whom, and\nof Penelope, Pan was the offspring, is the son of the third Jupiter and\nMaia. A fourth, whom the Egyptians think it a crime to name, is the son\nof Nilus. A fifth, whom we call, in their language, Thoth, as with them\nthe first month of the year is called, is he whom the people of\nPheneum[266] worship, and who is said to have killed Argus, to have\nfled for it into Egypt, and to have given laws and learning to the\nEgyptians. The first of the AEsculapii, the God of Arcadia, who is said\nto have invented the probe and to have been the first person who taught\nmen to use bandages for wounds, is the son of Apollo. The second, who\nwas killed with thunder, and is said to be buried in Cynosura,[267] is\nthe brother of the second Mercury. The third, who is said to have found\nout the art of purging the stomach, and of drawing teeth, is the son of\nArsippus and Arsinoe; and in Arcadia there is shown his tomb, and the\nwood which is consecrated to him, near the river Lusium.\n\nXXIII. I have already spoken of the most ancient of the Apollos, who is\nthe son of Vulcan, and tutelar God of Athens. There is another, son of\nCorybas, and native of Crete, for which island he is said to have\ncontended with Jupiter himself. A third, who came from the regions of\nthe Hyperborei[268] to Delphi, is the son of the third Jupiter and of\nLatona. A fourth was of Arcadia, whom the Arcadians called Nomio,[269]\nbecause they regarded him as their legislator. There are likewise many\nDianas. The first, who is thought to be the mother of the winged Cupid,\nis the daughter of Jupiter and Proserpine. The second, who is more\nknown, is daughter of the third Jupiter and of Latona. The third, whom\nthe Greeks often call by her father's name, is the daughter of\nUpis[270] and Glauce. There are many also of the Dionysi. The first was\nthe son of Jupiter and Proserpine. The second, who is said to have\nkilled Nysa, was the son of Nilus. The third, who reigned in Asia, and\nfor whom the Sabazia[271] were instituted, was the son of Caprius. The\nfourth, for whom they celebrate the Orphic festivals, sprung from\nJupiter and Luna. The fifth, who is supposed to have instituted the\nTrieterides, was the son of Nysus and Thyone.\n\nThe first Venus, who has a temple at Elis, was the daughter of Coelus\nand Dies. The second arose out of the froth of the sea, and became, by\nMercury, the mother of the second Cupid. The third, the daughter of\nJupiter and Diana, was married to Vulcan, but is said to have had\nAnteros by Mars. The fourth was a Syrian, born of Tyro, who is called\nAstarte, and is said to have been married to Adonis. I have already\nmentioned one Minerva, mother of Apollo. Another, who is worshipped at\nSais, a city in Egypt, sprung from Nilus. The third, whom I have also\nmentioned, was daughter of Jupiter. The fourth, sprung from Jupiter and\nCoryphe, the daughter of the Ocean; the Arcadians call her Coria, and\nmake her the inventress of chariots. A fifth, whom they paint with\nwings at her heels, was daughter of Pallas, and is said to have killed\nher father for endeavoring to violate her chastity. The first Cupid is\nsaid to be the son of Mercury and the first Diana; the second, of\nMercury and the second Venus; the third, who is the same as Anteros, of\nMars and the third Venus.\n\nAll these opinions arise from old stories that were spread in Greece;\nthe belief in which, Balbus, you well know, ought to be stopped, lest\nreligion should suffer. But you Stoics, so far from refuting them, even\ngive them authority by the mysterious sense which you pretend to find\nin them. Can you, then, think, after this plain refutation, that there\nis need to employ more subtle reasonings? But to return from this\ndigression.\n\nXXIV. We see that the mind, faith, hope, virtue, honor, victory,\nhealth, concord, and things of such kind, are purely natural, and have\nnothing of divinity in them; for either they are inherent in us, as the\nmind, faith, hope, virtue, and concord are; or else they are to be\ndesired, as honor, health, and victory. I know indeed that they are\nuseful to us, and see that statues have been religiously erected for\nthem; but as to their divinity, I shall begin to believe it when you\nhave proved it for certain. Of this kind I may particularly mention\nFortune, which is allowed to be ever inseparable from inconstancy and\ntemerity, which are certainly qualities unworthy of a divine being.\n\nBut what delight do you take in the explication of fables, and in the\netymology of names?--that Coelus was castrated by his son, and that\nSaturn was bound in chains by his son! By your defence of these and\nsuch like fictions you would make the authors of them appear not only\nnot to be madmen, but to have been even very wise. But the pains which\nyou take with your etymologies deserve our pity. That Saturn is so\ncalled because _se saturat annis_, he is full of years; Mavors, Mars,\nbecause _magna vortit_, he brings about mighty changes; Minerva,\nbecause _minuit_, she diminishes, or because _minatur_, she threatens;\nVenus, because _venit ad omnia_, she comes to all; Ceres, _a gerendo_,\nfrom bearing. How dangerous is this method! for there are many names\nwould puzzle you. From what would you derive Vejupiter and Vulcan?\nThough, indeed, if you can derive Neptune _a nando_, from swimming, in\nwhich you seem to me to flounder about yourself more than Neptune, you\nmay easily find the origin of all names, since it is founded only upon\nthe conformity of some one letter. Zeno first, and after him Cleanthes\nand Chrysippus, are put to the unnecessary trouble of explaining mere\nfables, and giving reasons for the several appellations of every Deity;\nwhich is really owning that those whom we call Gods are not the\nrepresentations of deities, but natural things, and that to judge\notherwise is an error.\n\nXXV. Yet this error has so much prevailed that even pernicious things\nhave not only the title of divinity ascribed to them, but have also\nsacrifices offered to them; for Fever has a temple on the Palatine\nhill, and Orbona another near that of the Lares, and we see on the\nEsquiline hill an altar consecrated to Ill-fortune. Let all such errors\nbe banished from philosophy, if we would advance, in our dispute\nconcerning the immortal Gods, nothing unworthy of immortal beings. I\nknow myself what I ought to believe; which is far different from what\nyou have said. You take Neptune for an intelligence pervading the sea.\nYou have the same opinion of Ceres with regard to the earth. I cannot,\nI own, find out, or in the least conjecture, what that intelligence of\nthe sea or the earth is. To learn, therefore, the existence of the\nGods, and of what description and character they are, I must apply\nelsewhere, not to the Stoics.\n\nLet us proceed to the two other parts of our dispute: first, \"whether\nthere is a divine providence which governs the world;\" and lastly,\n\"whether that providence particularly regards mankind;\" for these are\nthe remaining propositions of your discourse; and I think that, if you\napprove of it, we should examine these more accurately. With all my\nheart, says Velleius, for I readily agree to what you have hitherto\nsaid, and expect still greater things from you.\n\nI am unwilling to interrupt you, says Balbus to Cotta, but we shall\ntake another opportunity, and I shall effectually convince you.\nBut[272] * * *\n\nXXVI.\n    Shall I adore, and bend the suppliant knee,\n    Who scorn their power and doubt their deity?\n\nDoes not Niobe here seem to reason, and by that reasoning to bring all\nher misfortunes upon herself? But what a subtle expression is the\nfollowing!\n\n    On strength of will alone depends success;\n\na maxim capable of leading us into all that is bad.\n\n    Though I'm confined, his malice yet is vain,\n    His tortured heart shall answer pain for pain;\n    His ruin soothe my soul with soft content,\n    Lighten my chains, and welcome banishment!\n\nThis, now, is reason; that reason which you say the divine goodness has\ndenied to the brute creation, kindly to bestow it on men alone. How\ngreat, how immense the favor! Observe the same Medea flying from her\nfather and her country:\n\n    The guilty wretch from her pursuer flies.\n    By her own hands the young Absyrtus slain,\n    His mangled limbs she scatters o'er the plain,\n    That the fond sire might sink beneath his woe,\n    And she to parricide her safety owe.\n\nReflection, as well as wickedness, must have been necessary to the\npreparation of such a fact; and did he too, who prepared that fatal\nrepast for his brother, do it without reflection?\n\n    Revenge as great as Atreus' injury\n    Shall sink his soul and crown his misery.\n\nXXVII. Did not Thyestes himself, not content with having defiled his\nbrother's bed (of which Atreus with great justice thus complains,\n\n    When faithless comforts, in the lewd embrace,\n    With vile adultery stain a royal race,\n    The blood thus mix'd in fouler currents flows,\n    Taints the rich soil, and breeds unnumber'd woes)--\n\ndid he not, I say, by that adultery, aim at the possession of the\ncrown? Atreus thus continues:\n\n    A lamb, fair gift of heaven, with golden fleece,\n    Promised in vain to fix my crown in peace;\n    But base Thyestes, eager for the prey,\n    Crept to my bed, and stole the gem away.\n\nDo you not perceive that Thyestes must have had a share of reason\nproportionable to the greatness of his crimes--such crimes as are not\nonly represented to us on the stage, but such as we see committed, nay,\noften exceeded, in the common course of life? The private houses of\nindividual citizens, the public courts, the senate, the camp, our\nallies, our provinces, all agree that reason is the author of all the\nill, as well as of all the good, which is done; that it makes few act\nwell, and that but seldom, but many act ill, and that frequently; and\nthat, in short, the Gods would have shown greater benevolence in\ndenying us any reason at all than in sending us that which is\naccompanied with so much mischief; for as wine is seldom wholesome, but\noften hurtful in diseases, we think it more prudent to deny it to the\npatient than to run the risk of so uncertain a remedy; so I do not know\nwhether it would not be better for mankind to be deprived of wit,\nthought, and penetration, or what we call reason, since it is a thing\npernicious to many and very useful to few, than to have it bestowed\nupon them with so much liberality and in such abundance. But if the\ndivine will has really consulted the good of man in this gift of\nreason, the good of those men only was consulted on whom a\nwell-regulated one is bestowed: how few those are, if any, is very\napparent. We cannot admit, therefore, that the Gods consulted the good\nof a few only; the conclusion must be that they consulted the good of\nnone.\n\nXXVIII. You answer that the ill use which a great part of mankind make\nof reason no more takes away the goodness of the Gods, who bestow it as\na present of the greatest benefit to them, than the ill use which\nchildren make of their patrimony diminishes the obligation which they\nhave to their parents for it. We grant you this; but where is the\nsimilitude? It was far from Deianira's design to injure Hercules when\nshe made him a present of the shirt dipped in the blood of the\nCentaurs. Nor was it a regard to the welfare of Jason of Pherae that\ninfluenced the man who with his sword opened his imposthume, which the\nphysicians had in vain attempted to cure. For it has often happened\nthat people have served a man whom they intended to injure, and have\ninjured one whom they designed to serve; so that the effect of the gift\nis by no means always a proof of the intention of the giver; neither\ndoes the benefit which may accrue from it prove that it came from the\nhands of a benefactor. For, in short, what debauchery, what avarice,\nwhat crime among men is there which does not owe its birth to thought\nand reflection, that is, to reason? For all opinion is reason: right\nreason, if men's thoughts are conformable to truth; wrong reason, if\nthey are not. The Gods only give us the mere faculty of reason, if we\nhave any; the use or abuse of it depends entirely upon ourselves; so\nthat the comparison is not just between the present of reason given us\nby the Gods, and a patrimony left to a son by his father; for, after\nall, if the injury of mankind had been the end proposed by the Gods,\nwhat could they have given them more pernicious than reason? for what\nseed could there be of injustice, intemperance, and cowardice, if\nreason were not laid as the foundation of these vices?\n\nXXIX. I mentioned just now Medea and Atreus, persons celebrated in\nheroic poems, who had used this reason only for the contrivance and\npractice of the most flagitious crimes; but even the trifling\ncharacters which appear in comedies supply us with the like instances\nof this reasoning faculty; for example, does not he, in the Eunuch,\nreason with some subtlety?--\n\n    What, then, must I resolve upon?\n    She turn'd me out-of-doors; she sends for me back again;\n    Shall I go? no, not if she were to beg it of me.\n\nAnother, in the Twins, making no scruple of opposing a received maxim,\nafter the manner of the Academics, asserts that when a man is in love\nand in want, it is pleasant\n\n    To have a father covetous, crabbed, and passionate,\n    Who has no love or affection for his children.\n\nThis unaccountable opinion he strengthens thus:\n\n    You may defraud him of his profits, or forge letters in his name,\n    Or fright him by your servant into compliance;\n    And what you take from such an old hunks,\n    How much more pleasantly do you spend it!\n\nOn the contrary, he says that an easy, generous father is an\ninconvenience to a son in love; for, says he,\n\n    I can't tell how to abuse so good, so prudent a parent,\n    Who always foreruns my desires, and meets me purse in hand,\n    To support me in my pleasures: this easy goodness and generosity\n    Quite defeat all my frauds, tricks, and stratagems.[273]\n\nWhat are these frauds, tricks, and stratagems but the effects of\nreason? O excellent gift of the Gods! Without this Phormio could not\nhave said,\n\n    Find me out the old man: I have something hatching for him in my head.\n\nXXX. But let us pass from the stage to the bar. The praetor[274] takes\nhis seat. To judge whom? The man who set fire to our archives. How\nsecretly was that villany conducted! Q. Sosius, an illustrious Roman\nknight, of the Picene field,[275] confessed the fact. Who else is to be\ntried? He who forged the public registers--Alenus, an artful fellow,\nwho counterfeited the handwriting of the six officers.[276] Let us call\nto mind other trials: that on the subject of the gold of Tolosa, or the\nconspiracy of Jugurtha. Let us trace back the informations laid against\nTubulus for bribery in his judicial office; and, since that, the\nproceedings of the tribune Peduceus concerning the incest of the\nvestals. Let us reflect upon the trials which daily happen for\nassassinations, poisonings, embezzlement of public money, frauds in\nwills, against which we have a new law; then that action against the\nadvisers or assisters of any theft; the many laws concerning frauds in\nguardianship, breaches of trust in partnerships and commissions in\ntrade, and other violations of faith in buying, selling, borrowing, or\nlending; the public decree on a private affair by the Laetorian\nLaw;[277] and, lastly, that scourge of all dishonesty, the law against\nfraud, proposed by our friend Aquillius; that sort of fraud, he says,\nby which one thing is pretended and another done. Can we, then, think\nthat this plentiful fountain of evil sprung from the immortal Gods? If\nthey have given reason to man, they have likewise given him subtlety,\nfor subtlety is only a deceitful manner of applying reason to do\nmischief. To them likewise we must owe deceit, and every other crime,\nwhich, without the help of reason, would neither have been thought of\nnor committed. As the old woman wished\n\n    That to the fir which on Mount Pelion grew\n    The axe had ne'er been laid,[278]\n\nso we should wish that the Gods had never bestowed this ability on man,\nthe abuse of which is so general that the small number of those who\nmake a good use of it are often oppressed by those who make a bad use\nof it; so that it seems to be given rather to help vice than to promote\nvirtue among us.\n\nXXXI. This, you insist on it, is the fault of man, and not of the Gods.\nBut should we not laugh at a physician or pilot, though they are weak\nmortals, if they were to lay the blame of their ill success on the\nviolence of the disease or the fury of the tempest? Had there not been\ndanger, we should say, who would have applied to you? This reasoning\nhas still greater force against the Deity. The fault, you say, is in\nman, if he commits crimes. But why was not man endued with a reason\nincapable of producing any crimes? How could the Gods err? When we\nleave our effects to our children, it is in hopes that they may be well\nbestowed; in which we may be deceived, but how can the Deity be\ndeceived? As Phoebus when he trusted his chariot to his son Phaethon,\nor as Neptune when he indulged his son Theseus in granting him three\nwishes, the consequence of which was the destruction of Hippolitus?\nThese are poetical fictions; but truth, and not fables, ought to\nproceed from philosophers. Yet if those poetical Deities had foreseen\nthat their indulgence would have proved fatal to their sons, they must\nhave been thought blamable for it.\n\nAristo of Chios used often to say that the philosophers do hurt to such\nof their disciples as take their good doctrine in a wrong sense; thus\nthe lectures of Aristippus might produce debauchees, and those of Zeno\npedants. If this be true, it were better that philosophers should be\nsilent than that their disciples should be corrupted by a\nmisapprehension of their master's meaning; so if reason, which was\nbestowed on mankind by the Gods with a good design, tends only to make\nmen more subtle and fraudulent, it had been better for them never to\nhave received it. There could be no excuse for a physician who\nprescribes wine to a patient, knowing that he will drink it and\nimmediately expire. Your Providence is no less blamable in giving\nreason to man, who, it foresaw, would make a bad use of it. Will you\nsay that it did not foresee it? Nothing could please me more than such\nan acknowledgment. But you dare not. I know what a sublime idea you\nentertain of her.\n\nXXXII. But to conclude. If folly, by the unanimous consent of\nphilosophers, is allowed to be the greatest of all evils, and if no one\never attained to true wisdom, we, whom they say the immortal Gods take\ncare of, are consequently in a state of the utmost misery. For that\nnobody is well, or that nobody can be well, is in effect the same\nthing; and, in my opinion, that no man is truly wise, or that no man\ncan be truly wise, is likewise the same thing. But I will insist no\nfurther on so self-evident a point. Telamon in one verse decides the\nquestion. If, says he, there is a Divine Providence,\n\n    Good men would be happy, bad men miserable.\n\nBut it is not so. If the Gods had regarded mankind, they should have\nmade them all virtuous; but if they did not regard the welfare of all\nmankind, at least they ought to have provided for the happiness of the\nvirtuous. Why, therefore, was the Carthaginian in Spain suffered to\ndestroy those best and bravest men, the two Scipios? Why did\nMaximus[279] lose his son, the consul? Why did Hannibal kill Marcellus?\nWhy did Cannae deprive us of Paulus? Why was the body of Regulus\ndelivered up to the cruelty of the Carthaginians? Why was not Africanus\nprotected from violence in his own house? To these, and many more\nancient instances, let us add some of later date. Why is Rutilius, my\nuncle, a man of the greatest virtue and learning, now in banishment?\nWhy was my own friend and companion Drusus assassinated in his own\nhouse? Why was Scaevola, the high-priest, that pattern of moderation and\nprudence, massacred before the statue of Vesta? Why, before that, were\nso many illustrious citizens put to death by Cinna? Why had Marius, the\nmost perfidious of men, the power to cause the death of Catulus, a man\nof the greatest dignity? But there would be no end of enumerating\nexamples of good men made miserable and wicked men prosperous. Why did\nthat Marius live to an old age, and die so happily at his own house in\nhis seventh consulship? Why was that inhuman wretch Cinna permitted to\nenjoy so long a reign?\n\nXXXIII. He, indeed, met with deserved punishment at last. But would it\nnot have been better that these inhumanities had been prevented than\nthat the author of them should be punished afterward? Varius, a most\nimpious wretch, was tortured and put to death. If this was his\npunishment for the murdering Drusus by the sword, and Metellus by\npoison, would it not have been better to have preserved their lives\nthan to have their deaths avenged on Varius? Dionysius was thirty-eight\nyears a tyrant over the most opulent and flourishing city; and, before\nhim, how many years did Pisistratus tyrannize in the very flower of\nGreece! Phalaris and Apollodorus met with the fate they deserved, but\nnot till after they had tortured and put to death multitudes. Many\nrobbers have been executed; but the number of those who have suffered\nfor their crimes is short of those whom they have robbed and murdered.\nAnaxarchus,[280] a scholar of Democritus, was cut to pieces by command\nof the tyrant of Cyprus; and Zeno of Elea[281] ended his life in\ntortures. What shall I say of Socrates,[282] whose death, as often as I\nread of it in Plato, draws fresh tears from my eyes? If, therefore, the\nGods really see everything that happens to men, you must acknowledge\nthey make no distinction between the good and the bad.\n\nXXXIV. Diogenes the Cynic used to say of Harpalus, one of the most\nfortunate villains of his time, that the constant prosperity of such a\nman was a kind of witness against the Gods. Dionysius, of whom we have\nbefore spoken, after he had pillaged the temple of Proserpine at\nLocris, set sail for Syracuse, and, having a fair wind during his\nvoyage, said, with a smile, \"See, my friends, what favorable winds the\nimmortal Gods bestow upon church-robbers.\" Encouraged by this\nprosperous event, he proceeded in his impiety. When he landed at\nPeloponnesus, he went into the temple of Jupiter Olympius, and disrobed\nhis statue of a golden mantle of great weight, an ornament which the\ntyrant Gelo[283] had given out of the spoils of the Carthaginians, and\nat the same time, in a jesting manner, he said \"that a golden mantle\nwas too heavy in summer and too cold in winter;\" and then, throwing a\nwoollen cloak over the statue, added, \"This will serve for all\nseasons.\" At another time, he ordered the golden beard of AEsculapius of\nEpidaurus to be taken away, saying that \"it was absurd for the son to\nhave a beard, when his father had none.\" He likewise robbed the temples\nof the silver tables, which, according to the ancient custom of Greece,\nbore this inscription, \"To the good Gods,\" saying \"he was willing to\nmake use of their goodness;\" and, without the least scruple, took away\nthe little golden emblems of victory, the cups and coronets, which were\nin the stretched-out hands of the statues, saying \"he did not take, but\nreceive them; for it would be folly not to accept good things from the\nGods, to whom we are constantly praying for favors, when they stretch\nout their hands towards us.\" And, last of all, all the things which he\nhad thus pillaged from the temples were, by his order, brought to the\nmarket-place and sold by the common crier; and, after he had received\nthe money for them, he commanded every purchaser to restore what he had\nbought, within a limited time, to the temples from whence they came.\nThus to his impiety towards the Gods he added injustice to man.\n\nXXXV. Yet neither did Olympian Jove strike him with his thunder, nor\ndid AEsculapius cause him to die by tedious diseases and a lingering\ndeath. He died in his bed, had funeral honors[284] paid to him, and\nleft his power, which he had wickedly obtained, as a just and lawful\ninheritance to his son.\n\nIt is not without concern that I maintain a doctrine which seems to\nauthorize evil, and which might probably give a sanction to it, if\nconscience, without any divine assistance, did not point out, in the\nclearest manner, the difference between virtue and vice. Without\nconscience man is contemptible. For as no family or state can be\nsupposed to be formed with any reason or discipline if there are no\nrewards for good actions nor punishment for crimes, so we cannot\nbelieve that a Divine Providence regulates the world if there is no\ndistinction between the honest and the wicked.\n\nBut the Gods, you say, neglect trifling things: the little fields or\nvineyards of particular men are not worthy their attention; and if\nblasts or hail destroy their product, Jupiter does not regard it, nor\ndo kings extend their care to the lower offices of government. This\nargument might have some weight if, in bringing Rutilius as an\ninstance, I had only complained of the loss of his farm at Formiae; but\nI spoke of a personal misfortune, his banishment.[285]\n\nXXXVI. All men agree that external benefits, such as vineyards, corn,\nolives, plenty of fruit and grain, and, in short, every convenience and\nproperty of life, are derived from the Gods; and, indeed, with reason,\nsince by our virtue we claim applause, and in virtue we justly glory,\nwhich we could have no right to do if it was the gift of the Gods, and\nnot a personal merit. When we are honored with new dignities, or\nblessed with increase of riches; when we are favored by fortune beyond\nour expectation, or luckily delivered from any approaching evil, we\nreturn thanks for it to the Gods, and assume no praise to ourselves.\nBut who ever thanked the Gods that he was a good man? We thank them,\nindeed, for riches, health, and honor. For these we invoke the all-good\nand all-powerful Jupiter; but not for wisdom, temperance, and justice.\nNo one ever offered a tenth of his estate to Hercules to be made wise.\nIt is reported, indeed, of Pythagoras that he sacrificed an ox to the\nMuses upon having made some new discovery in geometry;[286] but, for my\npart, I cannot believe it, because he refused to sacrifice even to\nApollo at Delos, lest he should defile the altar with blood. But to\nreturn. It is universally agreed that good fortune we must ask of the\nGods, but wisdom must arise from ourselves; and though temples have\nbeen consecrated to the Mind, to Virtue, and to Faith, yet that does\nnot contradict their being inherent in us. In regard to hope, safety,\nassistance, and victory, we must rely upon the Gods for them; from\nwhence it follows, as Diogenes said, that the prosperity of the wicked\ndestroys the idea of a Divine Providence.\n\nXXXVII. But good men have sometimes success. They have so; but we\ncannot, with any show of reason, attribute that success to the Gods.\nDiagoras, who is called the atheist, being at Samothrace, one of his\nfriends showed him several pictures[287] of people who had endured very\ndangerous storms; \"See,\" says he, \"you who deny a providence, how many\nhave been saved by their prayers to the Gods.\" \"Ay,\" says Diagoras, \"I\nsee those who were saved, but where are those painted who were\nshipwrecked?\" At another time, he himself was in a storm, when the\nsailors, being greatly alarmed, told him they justly deserved that\nmisfortune for admitting him into their ship; when he, pointing to\nothers under the like distress, asked them \"if they believed Diagoras\nwas also aboard those ships?\" In short, with regard to good or bad\nfortune, it matters not what you are, or how you have lived. The Gods,\nlike kings, regard not everything. What similitude is there between\nthem? If kings neglect anything, want of knowledge may be pleaded in\ntheir defence; but ignorance cannot be brought as an excuse for the\nGods.\n\nXXXVIII. Your manner of justifying them is somewhat extraordinary, when\nyou say that if a wicked man dies without suffering for his crimes, the\nGods inflict a punishment on his children, his children's children, and\nall his posterity. O wonderful equity of the Gods! What city would\nendure the maker of a law which should condemn a son or a grandson for\na crime committed by the father or the grandfather?\n\n    Shall Tantalus' unhappy offspring know\n    No end, no close, of this long scene of woe?\n    When will the dire reward of guilt be o'er,\n    And Myrtilus demand revenge no more?[288]\n\nWhether the poets have corrupted the Stoics, or the Stoics given\nauthority to the poets, I cannot easily determine. Both alike are to be\ncondemned. If those persons whose names have been branded in the\nsatires of Hipponax or Archilochus[289] were driven to despair, it did\nnot proceed from the Gods, but had its origin in their own minds. When\nwe see AEgistus and Paris lost in the heat of an impure passion, why are\nwe to attribute it to a Deity, when the crime, as it were, speaks for\nitself? I believe that those who recover from illness are more indebted\nto the care of Hippocrates than to the power of AEsculapius; that Sparta\nreceived her laws from Lycurgus[290] rather than from Apollo; that\nthose eyes of the maritime coast, Corinth and Carthage, were plucked\nout, the one by Critolaus, the other by Hasdrubal, without the\nassistance of any divine anger, since you yourselves confess that a\nDeity cannot possibly be angry on any provocation.\n\nXXXIX. But could not the Deity have assisted and preserved those\neminent cities? Undoubtedly he could; for, according to your doctrine,\nhis power is infinite, and without the least labor; and as nothing but\nthe will is necessary to the motion of our bodies, so the divine will\nof the Gods, with the like ease, can create, move, and change all\nthings. This you hold, not from a mere phantom of superstition, but on\nnatural and settled principles of reason; for matter, you say, of which\nall things are composed and consist, is susceptible of all forms and\nchanges, and there is nothing which cannot be, or cease to be, in an\ninstant; and that Divine Providence has the command and disposal of\nthis universal matter, and consequently can, in any part of the\nuniverse, do whatever she pleases: from whence I conclude that this\nProvidence either knows not the extent of her power, or neglects human\naffairs, or cannot judge what is best for us. Providence, you say, does\nnot extend her care to particular men; there is no wonder in that,\nsince she does not extend it to cities, or even to nations, or people.\nIf, therefore, she neglects whole nations, is it not very probable that\nshe neglects all mankind? But how can you assert that the Gods do not\nenter into all the little circumstances of life, and yet hold that they\ndistribute dreams among men? Since you believe in dreams, it is your\npart to solve this difficulty. Besides, you say we ought to call upon\nthe Gods. Those who call upon the Gods are individuals. Divine\nProvidence, therefore, regards individuals, which consequently proves\nthat they are more at leisure than you imagine. Let us suppose the\nDivine Providence to be greatly busied; that it causes the revolutions\nof the heavens, supports the earth, and rules the seas; why does it\nsuffer so many Gods to be unemployed? Why is not the superintendence of\nhuman affairs given to some of those idle Deities which you say are\ninnumerable?\n\nThis is the purport of what I had to say concerning \"the Nature of the\nGods;\" not with a design to destroy their existence, but merely to show\nwhat an obscure point it is, and with what difficulties an explanation\nof it is attended.\n\nXL. Balbus, observing that Cotta had finished his discourse--You have\nbeen very severe, says he, against a Divine Providence, a doctrine\nestablished by the Stoics with piety and wisdom; but, as it grows too\nlate, I shall defer my answer to another day. Our argument is of the\ngreatest importance; it concerns our altars,[291] our hearths, our\ntemples, nay, even the walls of our city, which you priests hold\nsacred; you, who by religion defend Rome better than she is defended by\nher ramparts. This is a cause which, while I have life, I think I\ncannot abandon without impiety.\n\nThere is nothing, replied Cotta, which I desire more than to be\nconfuted. I have not pretended to decide this point, but to give you my\nprivate sentiments upon it; and am very sensible of your great\nsuperiority in argument. No doubt of it, says Velleius; we have much to\nfear from one who believes that our dreams are sent from Jupiter,\nwhich, though they are of little weight, are yet of more importance\nthan the discourse of the Stoics concerning the nature of the Gods. The\nconversation ended here, and we parted. Velleius judged that the\narguments of Cotta were truest; but those of Balbus seemed to me to\nhave the greater probability.[292]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nON THE COMMONWEALTH.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE BY THE EDITOR.\n\n\nThis work was one of Cicero's earlier treatises, though one of those\nwhich was most admired by his contemporaries, and one of which he\nhimself was most proud. It was composed 54 B.C. It was originally in\ntwo books: then it was altered and enlarged into nine, and finally\nreduced to six. With the exception of the dream of Scipio, in the last\nbook, the whole treatise was lost till the year 1822, when the\nlibrarian of the Vatican discovered a portion of them among the\npalimpsests in that library. What he discovered is translated here; but\nit is in a most imperfect and mutilated state.\n\nThe form selected was that of a dialogue, in imitation of those of\nPlato; and the several conferences were supposed to have taken place\nduring the Latin holidays, 129 B.C., in the consulship of Caius\nSempronius, Tuditanus, and Marcus Aquilius. The speakers are Scipio\nAfricanus the younger, in whose garden the scene is laid; Caius Laelius;\nLucius Furius Philus; Marcus Manilius; Spurius Mummius, the brother of\nthe taker of Corinth, a Stoic; Quintus AElius Tubero, a nephew of\nAfricanus; Publius Rutilius Rufus; Quintus Mucius Scaevola, the tutor of\nCicero; and Caius Fannius, who was absent, however, on the second day\nof the conference.\n\nIn the first book, the first thirty-three pages are wanting, and there\nare chasms amounting to thirty-eight pages more. In this book Scipio\nasserts the superiority of an active over a speculative career; and\nafter analyzing and comparing the monarchical, aristocratic, and\ndemocratic forms of government, gives a preference to the first;\nalthough his idea of a perfect constitution would be one compounded of\nthree kinds in due proportion.\n\nThere are a few chasms in the earlier part of the second book, and the\nlatter part of it is wholly lost. In it Scipio was led on to give an\naccount of the rise and progress of the Roman Constitution, from which\nhe passed on to the examination of the great moral obligations which\nare the foundations of all political union.\n\nOf the remaining books we have only a few disjointed fragments, with\nthe exception, as has been before mentioned, of the dream of Scipio in\nthe sixth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST BOOK,\n\nBY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR.\n\n\n   Cicero introduces his subject by showing that men were not born\n     for the mere abstract study of philosophy, but that the study\n     of philosophic truth should always be made as practical as\n     possible, and applicable to the great interests of\n     philanthropy and patriotism. Cicero endeavors to show the\n     benefit of mingling the contemplative or philosophic with the\n     political and active life, according to that maxim of\n     Plato--\"Happy is the nation whose philosophers are kings, and\n     whose kings are philosophers.\"\n\n   This kind of introduction was the more necessary because many\n     of the ancient philosophers, too warmly attached to\n     transcendental metaphysics and sequestered speculations, had\n     affirmed that true philosophers ought not to interest\n     themselves in the management of public affairs. Thus, as M.\n     Villemain observes, it was a maxim of the Epicureans,\n     \"Sapiens ne accedat ad rempublicam\" (Let no wise man meddle\n     in politics). The Pythagoreans had enforced the same\n     principle with more gravity. Aristotle examines the question\n     on both sides, and concludes in favor of active life. Among\n     Aristotle's disciples, a writer, singularly elegant and pure,\n     had maintained the pre-eminence of the contemplative life\n     over the political or active one, in a work which Cicero\n     cites with admiration, and to which he seems to have applied\n     for relief whenever he felt harassed and discouraged in\n     public business. But here this great man was interested by\n     the subject he discusses, and by the whole course of his\n     experience and conduct, to refute the dogmas of that\n     pusillanimous sophistry and selfish indulgence by bringing\n     forward the most glorious examples and achievements of\n     patriotism. In this strain he had doubtless commenced his\n     exordium, and in this strain we find him continuing it at the\n     point in which the palimpsest becomes legible. He then\n     proceeds to introduce his illustrious interlocutors, and\n     leads them at first to discourse on the astronomical laws\n     that regulate the revolutions of our planet. From this, by a\n     very graceful and beautiful transition, he passes on to the\n     consideration of the best forms of political constitutions\n     that had prevailed in different nations, and those modes of\n     government which had produced the greatest benefits in the\n     commonwealths of antiquity.\n\n   This first book is, in fact, a splendid epitome of the\n     political science of the age of Cicero, and probably the most\n     eloquent plea in favor of mixed monarchy to be found in all\n     literature.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\n\nI. [Without the virtue of patriotism], neither Caius Duilius, nor Aulus\nAtilius,[293] nor Lucius Metellus, could have delivered Rome by their\ncourage from the terror of Carthage; nor could the two Scipios, when\nthe fire of the second Punic War was kindled, have quenched it in their\nblood; nor, when it revived in greater force, could either Quintus\nMaximus[294] have enervated it, or Marcus Marcellus have crushed it;\nnor, when it was repulsed from the gates of our own city, would Scipio\nhave confined it within the walls of our enemies.\n\nBut Cato, at first a new and unknown man, whom all we who aspire to the\nsame honors consider as a pattern to lead us on to industry and virtue,\nwas undoubtedly at liberty to enjoy his repose at Tusculum, a most\nsalubrious and convenient retreat. But he, mad as some people think\nhim, though no necessity compelled him, preferred being tossed about\namidst the tempestuous waves of politics, even till extreme old age, to\nliving with all imaginable luxury in that tranquillity and relaxation.\nI omit innumerable men who have separately devoted themselves to the\nprotection of our Commonwealth; and those whose lives are within the\nmemory of the present generation I will not mention, lest any one\nshould complain that I had invidiously forgotten himself or some one of\nhis family. This only I insist on--that so great is the necessity of\nthis virtue which nature has implanted in man, and so great is the\ndesire to defend the common safety of our country, that its energy has\ncontinually overcome all the blandishments of pleasure and repose.\n\nII. Nor is it sufficient to possess this virtue as if it were some kind\nof art, unless we put it in practice. An art, indeed, though not\nexercised, may still be retained in knowledge; but virtue consists\nwholly in its proper use and action. Now, the noblest use of virtue is\nthe government of the Commonwealth, and the carrying-out in real\naction, not in words only, of all those identical theories which those\nphilosophers discuss at every corner. For nothing is spoken by\nphilosophers, so far as they speak correctly and honorably, which has\nnot been discovered and confirmed by those persons who have been the\nfounders of the laws of states. For whence comes piety, or from whom\nhas religion been derived? Whence comes law, either that of nations, or\nthat which is called the civil law? Whence comes justice, faith,\nequity? Whence modesty, continence, the horror of baseness, the desire\nof praise and renown? Whence fortitude in labors and perils? Doubtless,\nfrom those who have instilled some of these moral principles into men\nby education, and confirmed others by custom, and sanctioned others by\nlaws.\n\nMoreover, it is reported of Xenocrates, one of the sublimest\nphilosophers, that when some one asked him what his disciples learned,\nhe replied, \"To do that of their own accord which they might be\ncompelled to do by law.\" That citizen, therefore, who obliges all men\nto those virtuous actions, by the authority of laws and penalties, to\nwhich the philosophers can scarcely persuade a few by the force of\ntheir eloquence, is certainly to be preferred to the sagest of the\ndoctors who spend their lives in such discussions. For which of their\nexquisite orations is so admirable as to be entitled to be preferred to\na well-constituted government, public justice, and good customs?\nCertainly, just as I think that magnificent and imperious cities (as\nEnnius says) are superior to castles and villages, so I imagine that\nthose who regulate such cities by their counsel and authority are far\npreferable, with respect to real wisdom, to men who are unacquainted\nwith any kind of political knowledge. And since we are strongly\nprompted to augment the prosperity of the human race, and since we do\nendeavor by our counsels and exertions to render the life of man safer\nand wealthier, and since we are incited to this blessing by the spur of\nnature herself, let us hold on that course which has always been\npursued by all the best men, and not listen for a moment to the signals\nof those who sound a retreat so loudly that they sometimes call back\neven those who have made considerable progress.\n\nIII. These reasons, so certain and so evident, are opposed by those\nwho, on the other side, argue that the labors which must necessarily be\nsustained in maintaining the Commonwealth form but a slight impediment\nto the vigilant and industrious, and are only a contemptible obstacle\nin such important affairs, and even in common studies, offices, and\nemployments. They add the peril of life, that base fear of death, which\nhas ever been opposed by brave men, to whom it appears far more\nmiserable to die by the decay of nature and old age than to be allowed\nan opportunity of gallantly sacrificing that life for their country\nwhich must otherwise be yielded up to nature.\n\nOn this point, however, our antagonists esteem themselves copious and\neloquent when they collect all the calamities of heroic men, and the\ninjuries inflicted on them by their ungrateful countrymen. For on this\nsubject they bring forward those notable examples among the Greeks; and\ntell us that Miltiades, the vanquisher and conqueror of the Persians,\nbefore even those wounds were healed which he had received in that most\nglorious victory, wasted away in the chains of his fellow-citizens that\nlife which had been preserved from the weapons of the enemy. They cite\nThemistocles, expelled and proscribed by the country which he had\nrescued, and forced to flee, not to the Grecian ports which he had\npreserved, but to the bosom of the barbarous power which he had\ndefeated. There is, indeed, no deficiency of examples to illustrate the\nlevity and cruelty of the Athenians to their noblest citizens--examples\nwhich, originating and multiplying among them, are said at different\ntimes to have abounded in our own most august empire. For we are told:\nof the exile of Camillus, the disgrace of Ahala, the unpopularity of\nNasica, the expulsion of Laenas,[295] the condemnation of Opimius, the\nflight of Metellus, the cruel destruction of Caius Marius, the massacre\nof our chieftains, and the many atrocious crimes which followed. My own\nhistory is by no means free from such calamities; and I imagine that\nwhen they recollect that by my counsel and perils they were preserved\nin life and liberty, they are led by that consideration to bewail my\nmisfortunes more deeply and affectionately. But I cannot tell why those\nwho sail over the seas for the sake of knowledge and experience [should\nwonder at seeing still greater hazards braved in the service of the\nCommonwealth].\n\nIV. [Since], on my quitting the consulship, I swore in the assembly of\nthe Roman people, who re-echoed my words, that I had saved the\nCommonwealth, I console myself with this remembrance for all my cares,\ntroubles, and injuries. Although my misfortune had more of honor than\nmisfortune, and more of glory than disaster; and I derive greater\npleasure from the regrets of good men than sorrow from the exultation\nof the worthless. But even if it had happened otherwise, how could I\nhave complained, as nothing befell me which was either unforeseen, or\nmore painful than I expected, as a return for my illustrious actions?\nFor I was one who, though it was in my power to reap more profit from\nleisure than most men, on account of the diversified sweetness of my\nstudies, in which I had lived from boyhood--or, if any public calamity\nhad happened, to have borne no more than an equal share with the rest\nof my countrymen in the misfortune--I nevertheless did not hesitate to\noppose myself to the most formidable tempests and torrents of sedition,\nfor the sake of saving my countrymen, and at my own proper danger to\nsecure the common safety of all the rest. For our country did not beget\nand educate us with the expectation of receiving no support, as I may\ncall it, from us; nor for the purpose of consulting nothing but our\nconvenience, to supply us with a secure refuge for idleness and a\ntranquil spot for rest; but rather with a view of turning to her own\nadvantage the nobler portion of our genius, heart, and counsel; giving\nus back for our private service only what she can spare from the public\ninterests.\n\nV. Those apologies, therefore, in which men take refuge as an excuse\nfor their devoting themselves with more plausibility to mere inactivity\ndo certainly not deserve to be listened to; when, for instance, they\ntell us that those who meddle with public affairs are generally\ngood-for-nothing men, with whom it is discreditable to be compared, and\nmiserable and dangerous to contend, especially when the multitude is in\nan excited state. On which account it is not the part of a wise man to\ntake the reins, since he cannot restrain the insane and unregulated\nmovements of the common people. Nor is it becoming to a man of liberal\nbirth, say they, thus to contend with such vile and unrefined\nantagonists, or to subject one's self to the lashings of contumely, or\nto put one's self in the way of injuries which ought not to be borne by\na wise man. As if to a virtuous, brave, and magnanimous man there could\nbe a juster reason for seeking the government than this--to avoid being\nsubjected to worthless men, and to prevent the Commonwealth from being\ntorn to pieces by them; when, even if they were then desirous to save\nher, they would not have the power.\n\nVI. But this restriction who can approve, which would interdict the\nwise man from taking any share in the government beyond such as the\noccasion and necessity may compel him to? As if any greater necessity\ncould possibly happen to any man than happened to me. In which, how\ncould I have acted if I had not been consul at the time? and how could\nI have been a consul unless I had maintained that course of life from\nmy childhood which raised me from the order of knights, in which I was\nborn, to the very highest station? You cannot produce _extempore_, and\njust when you please, the power of assisting a commonwealth, although\nit may be severely pressed by dangers, unless you have attained the\nposition which enables you legally to do so. And what most surprises me\nin the discourses of learned men, is to hear those persons who confess\nthemselves incapable of steering the vessel of the State in smooth seas\n(which, indeed, they never learned, and never cared to know) profess\nthemselves ready to assume the helm amidst the fiercest tempests. For\nthose men are accustomed to say openly, and indeed to boast greatly,\nthat they have never learned, and have never taken the least pains to\nexplain, the principles of either establishing or maintaining a\ncommonwealth; and they look on this practical science as one which\nbelongs not to men of learning and wisdom, but to those who have made\nit their especial study. How, then, can it be reasonable for such men\nto promise their assistance to the State, when they shall be compelled\nto it by necessity, while they are ignorant how to govern the republic\nwhen no necessity presses upon it, which is a much more easy task?\nIndeed, though it were true that the wise man loves not to thrust\nhimself of his own accord into the administration of public affairs,\nbut that if circumstances oblige him to it, then he does not refuse the\noffice, yet I think that this science of civil legislation should in no\nwise be neglected by the philosopher, because all resources ought to be\nready to his hand, which he knows not how soon he may be called on to\nuse.\n\nVII. I have spoken thus at large for this reason, because in this work\nI have proposed to myself and undertaken a discussion on the government\nof a state; and in order to render it useful, I was bound, in the first\nplace, to do away with this pusillanimous hesitation to mingle in\npublic affairs. If there be any, therefore, who are too much influenced\nby the authority of the philosophers, let them consider the subject for\na moment, and be guided by the opinions of those men whose authority\nand credit are greatest among learned men; whom I look upon, though\nsome of them have not personally governed any state, as men who have\nnevertheless discharged a kind of office in the republic, inasmuch as\nthey have made many investigations into, and left many writings\nconcerning, state affairs. As to those whom the Greeks entitle the\nSeven Wise Men, I find that they almost all lived in the middle of\npublic business. Nor, indeed, is there anything in which human virtue\ncan more closely resemble the divine powers than in establishing new\nstates, or in preserving those already established.\n\nVIII. And concerning these affairs, since it has been our good fortune\nto achieve something worthy of memorial in the government of our\ncountry, and also to have acquired some facility of explaining the\npowers and resources of politics, we can treat of this subject with the\nweight of personal experience and the habit of instruction and\nillustration. Whereas before us many have been skilful in theory,\nthough no exploits of theirs are recorded; and many others have been\nmen of consideration in action, but unfamiliar with the arts of\nexposition. Nor, indeed, is it at all our intention to establish a new\nand self-invented system of government; but our purpose is rather to\nrecall to memory a discussion of the most illustrious men of their age\nin our Commonwealth, which you and I, in our youth, when at Smyrna,\nheard mentioned by Publius Rutilius Rufus, who reported to us a\nconference of many days in which, in my opinion, there was nothing\nomitted that could throw light on political affairs.\n\nIX. For when, in the year of the consulship of Tuditanus and Aquilius,\nScipio Africanus, the son of Paulus AEmilius, formed the project of\nspending the Latin holidays at his country-seat, where his most\nintimate friends had promised him frequent visits during this season of\nrelaxation, on the first morning of the festival, his nephew, Quintus\nTubero, made his appearance; and when Scipio had greeted him heartily\nand embraced him--How is it, my dear Tubero, said he, that I see you so\nearly? For these holidays must afford you a capital opportunity of\npursuing your favorite studies. Ah! replied Tubero, I can study my\nbooks at any time, for they are always disengaged; but it is a great\nprivilege, my Scipio, to find you at leisure, especially in this\nrestless period of public affairs. You certainly have found me so, said\nScipio, but, to speak truth, I am rather relaxing from business than\nfrom study. Nay, said Tubero, you must try to relax from your studies\ntoo, for here are several of us, as we have appointed, all ready, if it\nsuits your convenience, to aid you in getting through this leisure time\nof yours. I am very willing to consent, answered Scipio, and we may be\nable to compare notes respecting the several topics that interest us.\n\nX. Be it so, said Tubero; and since you invite me to discussion, and\npresent the opportunity, let us first examine, before any one else\narrives, what can be the nature of the parhelion, or double sun, which\nwas mentioned in the senate. Those that affirm they witnessed this\nprodigy are neither few nor unworthy of credit, so that there is more\nreason for investigation than incredulity.[296]\n\nAh! said Scipio, I wish we had our friend Panaetius with us, who is fond\nof investigating all things of this kind, but especially all celestial\nphenomena. As for my opinion, Tubero, for I always tell you just what I\nthink, I hardly agree in these subjects with that friend of mine,\nsince, respecting things of which we can scarcely form a conjecture as\nto their character, he is as positive as if he had seen them with his\nown eyes and felt them with his own hands. And I cannot but the more\nadmire the wisdom of Socrates, who discarded all anxiety respecting\nthings of this kind, and affirmed that these inquiries concerning the\nsecrets of nature were either above the efforts of human reason, or\nwere absolutely of no consequence at all to human life.\n\nBut, then, my Africanus, replied Tubero, of what credit is the\ntradition which states that Socrates rejected all these physical\ninvestigations, and confined his whole attention to men and manners?\nFor, with respect to him what better authority can we cite than Plato?\nin many passages of whose works Socrates speaks in such a manner that\neven when he is discussing morals, and virtues, and even public affairs\nand politics, he endeavors to interweave, after the fashion of\nPythagoras, the doctrines of arithmetic, geometry, and harmonic\nproportions with them.\n\nThat is true, replied Scipio; but you are aware, I believe, that Plato,\nafter the death of Socrates, was induced to visit Egypt by his love of\nscience, and that after that he proceeded to Italy and Sicily, from his\ndesire of understanding the Pythagorean dogmas; that he conversed much\nwith Archytas of Tarentum and Timaeus of Locris; that he collected the\nworks of Philolaus; and that, finding in these places the renown of\nPythagoras flourishing, he addicted himself exceedingly to the\ndisciples of Pythagoras, and their studies; therefore, as he loved\nSocrates with his whole heart, and wished to attribute all great\ndiscoveries to him, he interwove the Socratic elegance and subtlety of\neloquence with somewhat of the obscurity of Pythagoras, and with that\nnotorious gravity of his diversified arts.\n\nXI. When Scipio had spoken thus, he suddenly saw Lucius Furius\napproaching, and saluting him, and embracing him most affectionately,\nhe gave him a seat on his own couch. And as soon as Publius Rutilius,\nthe worthy reporter of the conference to us, had arrived, when we had\nsaluted him, he placed him by the side of Tubero. Then said Furius,\nWhat is it that you are about? Has our entrance at all interrupted any\nconversation of yours? By no means, said Scipio, for you yourself too\nare in the habit of investigating carefully the subject which Tubero\nwas a little before proposing to examine; and our friend Rutilius, even\nunder the walls of Numantia, was in the habit at times of conversing\nwith me on questions of the same kind. What, then, was the subject of\nyour discussion? said Philus. We were talking, said Scipio, of the\ndouble suns that recently appeared, and I wish, Philus, to hear what\nyou think of them.\n\nXII. Just as he was speaking, a boy announced that Laelius was coming to\ncall on him, and that he had already left his house. Then Scipio,\nputting on his sandals and robes, immediately went forth from his\nchamber, and when he had walked a little time in the portico, he met\nLaelius, and welcomed him and those that accompanied him, namely,\nSpurius Mummius, to whom he was greatly attached, and C. Fannius and\nQuintus Scaevola, sons-in-law of Laelius, two very intelligent young men,\nand now of the quaestorian age.[297]\n\nWhen he had saluted them all, he returned through the portico, placing\nLaelius in the middle; for there was in their friendship a sort of law\nof reciprocal courtesy, so that in the camp Laelius paid Scipio almost\ndivine honors, on account of his eminent renown in war and in private\nlife; in his turn Scipio reverenced Laelius, even as a father, because\nhe was older than himself.\n\nThen after they had exchanged a few words, as they walked up and down,\nScipio, to whom their visit was extremely welcome and agreeable, wished\nto assemble them in a sunny corner of the gardens, because it was still\nwinter; and when they had agreed to this, there came in another friend,\na learned man, much beloved and esteemed by all of them, M. Manilius,\nwho, after having been most warmly welcomed by Scipio and the rest,\nseated himself next to Laelius.\n\nXIII. Then Philus, commencing the conversation, said: It does not\nappear to me that the presence of our new guests need alter the subject\nof our discussion, but only that it should induce us to treat it more\nphilosophically, and in a manner more worthy of our increased audience.\nWhat do you allude to? said Laelius; or what was the discussion we broke\nin upon? Scipio was asking me, replied Philus, what I thought of the\nparhelion, or mock sun, whose recent apparition was so strongly\nattested.\n\n_Laelius._ Do you say then, my Philus, that we have sufficiently\nexamined those questions which concern our own houses and the\nCommonwealth, that we begin to investigate the celestial mysteries?\n\nAnd Philus replied: Do you think, then, that it does not concern our\nhouses to know what happens in that vast home which is not included in\nwalls of human fabrication, but which embraces the entire universe--a\nhome which the Gods share with us, as the common country of all\nintelligent beings? Especially when, if we are ignorant of these\nthings, there are also many great practical truths which result from\nthem, and which bear directly on the welfare of our race, of which we\nmust be also ignorant. And here I can speak for myself, as well as for\nyou, Laelius, and all men who are ambitious of wisdom, that the\nknowledge and consideration of the facts of nature are by themselves\nvery delightful.\n\n_Laelius._ I have no objection to the discussion, especially as it is\nholiday-time with us. But cannot we have the pleasure of hearing you\nresume it, or are we come too late?\n\n_Philus_. We have not yet commenced the discussion, and since the\nquestion remains entire and unbroken, I shall have the greatest\npleasure, my Laelius, in handing over the argument to you.\n\n_Laelius._ No, I had much rather hear you, unless, indeed, Manilius\nthinks himself able to compromise the suit between the two suns, that\nthey may possess heaven as joint sovereigns without intruding on each\nother's empire.\n\nThen Manilius said: Are you going, Laelius, to ridicule a science in\nwhich, in the first place, I myself excel; and, secondly, without which\nno one can distinguish what is his own, and what is another's? But to\nreturn to the point. Let us now at present listen to Philus, who seems\nto me to have started a greater question than any of those that have\nengaged the attention of either Publius Mucius or myself.\n\nXIV. Then Philus said: I am not about to bring you anything new, or\nanything which has been thought over or discovered by me myself. But I\nrecollect that Caius Sulpicius Gallus, who was a man of profound\nlearning, as you are aware, when this same thing was reported to have\ntaken place in his time, while he was staying in the house of Marcus\nMarcellus, who had been his colleague in the consulship, asked to see a\ncelestial globe which Marcellus's grandfather had saved after the\ncapture of Syracuse from that magnificent and opulent city, without\nbringing to his own home any other memorial out of so great a booty;\nwhich I had often heard mentioned on account of the great fame of\nArchimedes; but its appearance, however, did not seem to me\nparticularly striking. For that other is more elegant in form, and more\ngenerally known, which was made by the same Archimedes, and deposited\nby the same Marcellus in the Temple of Virtue at Rome. But as soon as\nGallus had begun to explain, in a most scientific manner, the principle\nof this machine, I felt that the Sicilian geometrician must have\npossessed a genius superior to anything we usually conceive to belong\nto our nature. For Gallus assured us that that other solid and compact\nglobe was a very ancient invention, and that the first model had been\noriginally made by Thales of Miletus. That afterward Eudoxus of Cnidus,\na disciple of Plato, had traced on its surface the stars that appear in\nthe sky, and that many years subsequently, borrowing from Eudoxus this\nbeautiful design and representation, Aratus had illustrated it in his\nverses, not by any science of astronomy, but by the ornament of poetic\ndescription. He added that the figure of the globe, which displayed the\nmotions of the sun and moon, and the five planets, or wandering stars,\ncould not be represented by the primitive solid globe; and that in this\nthe invention of Archimedes was admirable, because he had calculated\nhow a single revolution should maintain unequal and diversified\nprogressions in dissimilar motions. In fact, when Gallus moved this\nglobe, we observed that the moon succeeded the sun by as many turns of\nthe wheel in the machine as days in the heavens. From whence it\nresulted that the progress of the sun was marked as in the heavens, and\nthat the moon touched the point where she is obscured by the earth's\nshadow at the instant the sun appears opposite.[298] * * *\n\nXV. * * *[299] I had myself a great affection for this Gallus, and I\nknow that he was very much beloved and esteemed by my father Paulus. I\nrecollect that when I was very young, when my father, as consul,\ncommanded in Macedonia, and we were in the camp, our army was seized\nwith a pious terror, because suddenly, in a clear night, the bright and\nfull moon became eclipsed. And Gallus, who was then our lieutenant, the\nyear before that in which he was elected consul, hesitated not, next\nmorning, to state in the camp that it was no prodigy, and that the\nphenomenon which had then appeared would always appear at certain\nperiods, when the sun was so placed that he could not affect the moon\nwith his light.\n\nBut do you mean, said Tubero, that he dared to speak thus to men almost\nentirely uneducated and ignorant?\n\n_Scipio._ He did, and with great * * * for his opinion was no result of\ninsolent ostentation, nor was his language unbecoming the dignity of so\nwise a man: indeed, he performed a very noble action in thus freeing\nhis countrymen from the terrors of an idle superstition.\n\nXVI. And they relate that in a similar way, in the great war in which\nthe Athenians and Lacedaemonians contended with such violent resentment,\nthe famous Pericles, the first man of his country in credit, eloquence,\nand political genius, observing the Athenians overwhelmed with an\nexcessive alarm during an eclipse of the sun which caused a sudden\ndarkness, told them, what he had learned in the school of Anaxagoras,\nthat these phenomena necessarily happened at precise and regular\nperiods when the body of the moon was interposed between the sun and\nthe earth, and that if they happened not before every new moon, still\nthey could not possibly happen except at the exact time of the new\nmoon. And when he had proved this truth by his reasonings, he freed the\npeople from their alarms; for at that period the doctrine was new and\nunfamiliar that the sun was accustomed to be eclipsed by the\ninterposition of the moon, which fact they say that Thales of Miletus\nwas the first to discover. Afterward my friend Ennius appears to have\nbeen acquainted with the same theory, who, writing about 350[300] years\nafter the foundation of Rome, says, \"In the nones of June the sun was\ncovered by the moon and night.\" The calculations in the astronomical\nart have attained such perfection that from that day, thus described to\nus by Ennius and recorded in the pontifical registers, the anterior\neclipses of the sun have been computed as far back as the nones of July\nin the reign of Romulus, when that eclipse took place, in the obscurity\nof which it was affirmed that Virtue bore Romulus to heaven, in spite\nof the perishable nature which carried him off by the common fate of\nhumanity.\n\nXVII. Then said Tubero: Do not you think, Scipio, that this\nastronomical science, which every day proves so useful, just now\nappeared in a different light to you,[301] * * * which the rest may\nsee. Moreover, who can think anything in human affairs of brilliant\nimportance who has penetrated this starry empire of the gods? Or who\ncan think anything connected with mankind long who has learned to\nestimate the nature of eternity? or glorious who is aware of the\ninsignificance of the size of the earth, even in its whole extent, and\nespecially in the portion which men inhabit? And when we consider that\nalmost imperceptible point which we ourselves occupy unknown to the\nmajority of nations, can we still hope that our name and reputation can\nbe widely circulated? And then our estates and edifices, our cattle,\nand the enormous treasures of our gold and silver, can they be esteemed\nor denominated as desirable goods by him who observes their perishable\nprofit, and their contemptible use, and their uncertain domination,\noften falling into the possession of the very worst men? How happy,\nthen, ought we to esteem that man who alone has it in his power, not by\nthe law of the Romans, but by the privilege of philosophers, to enjoy\nall things as his own; not by any civil bond, but by the common right\nof nature, which denies that anything can really be possessed by any\none but him who understands its true nature and use; who reckons our\ndictatorships and consulships rather in the rank of necessary offices\nthan desirable employments, and thinks they must be endured rather as\nacquittances of our debt to our country than sought for the sake of\nemolument or glory--the man, in short, who can apply to himself the\nsentence which Cato tells us my ancestor Africanus loved to repeat,\n\"that he was never so busy as when he did nothing, and never less\nsolitary than when alone.\"\n\nFor who can believe that Dionysius, when after every possible effort he\nravished from his fellow-citizens their liberty, had performed a nobler\nwork than Archimedes, when, without appearing to be doing anything, he\nmanufactured the globe which we have just been describing? Who does not\nsee that those men are in reality more solitary who, in the midst of a\ncrowd, find no one with whom they can converse congenially than those\nwho, without witnesses, hold communion with themselves, and enter into\nthe secret counsels of the sagest philosophers, while they delight\nthemselves in their writings and discoveries? And who would think any\none richer than the man who is in want of nothing which nature\nrequires; or more powerful than he who has attained all that she has\nneed of; or happier than he who is free from all mental perturbation;\nor more secure in future than he who carries all his property in\nhimself, which is thus secured from shipwreck? And what power, what\nmagistracy, what royalty, can be preferred to a wisdom which, looking\ndown on all terrestrial objects as low and transitory things,\nincessantly directs its attention to eternal and immutable verities,\nand which is persuaded that though others are called men, none are\nreally so but those who are refined by the appropriate acts of\nhumanity?\n\nIn this sense an expression of Plato or some other philosopher appears\nto me exceedingly elegant, who, when a tempest had driven his ship on\nan unknown country and a desolate shore, during the alarms with which\ntheir ignorance of the region inspired his companions, observed, they\nsay, geometrical figures traced in the sand, on which he immediately\ntold them to be of good cheer, for he had observed the indications of\nMan. A conjecture he deduced, not from the cultivation of the soil\nwhich he beheld, but from the symbols of science. For this reason,\nTubero, learning and learned men, and these your favorite studies, have\nalways particularly pleased me.\n\nXVIII. Then Laelius replied: I cannot venture, Scipio, to answer your\narguments, or to [maintain the discussion either against] you, Philus,\nor Manilius.[302] * * *\n\nWe had a friend in Tubero's father's family, who in these respects may\nserve him as a model.\n\n     Sextus so wise, and ever on his guard.\n\nWise and cautious indeed he was, as Ennius justly describes him--not\nbecause he searched for what he could never find, but because he knew\nhow to answer those who prayed for deliverance from cares and\ndifficulties. It is he who, reasoning against the astronomical studies\nof Gallus, used frequently to repeat these words of Achilles in the\nIphigenia[303]:\n\n    They note the astrologic signs of heaven,\n    Whene'er the goats or scorpions of great Jove,\n    Or other monstrous names of brutal forms,\n    Rise in the zodiac; but not one regards\n    The sensible facts of earth, on which we tread,\n    While gazing on the starry prodigies.\n\nHe used, however, to say (and I have often listened to him with\npleasure) that for his part he thought that Zethus, in the piece of\nPacuvius, was too inimical to learning. He much preferred the\nNeoptolemus of Ennius, who professes himself desirous of philosophizing\nonly in moderation; for that he did not think it right to be wholly\ndevoted to it. But though the studies of the Greeks have so many charms\nfor you, there are others, perhaps, nobler and more extensive, which we\nmay be better able to apply to the service of real life, and even to\npolitical affairs. As to these abstract sciences, their utility, if\nthey possess any, lies principally in exciting and stimulating the\nabilities of youth, so that they more easily acquire more important\naccomplishments.\n\nXIX. Then Tubero said: I do not mean to disagree with you, Laelius; but,\npray, what do you call more important studies?\n\n_Laelius._ I will tell you frankly, though perhaps you will think\nlightly of my opinion, since you appeared so eager in interrogating\nScipio respecting the celestial phenomena; but I happen to think that\nthose things which are every day before our eyes are more particularly\ndeserving of our attention. Why should the child of Paulus AEmilius, the\nnephew of AEmilius, the descendant of such a noble family and so\nglorious a republic, inquire how there can be two suns in heaven, and\nnot ask how there can be two senates in one Commonwealth, and, as it\nwere, two distinct peoples? For, as you see, the death of Tiberius\nGracchus, and the whole system of his tribuneship, has divided one\npeople into two parties. But the slanderers and the enemies of Scipio,\nencouraged by P. Crassus and Appius Claudius, maintained, after the\ndeath of these two chiefs, a division of nearly half the senate, under\nthe influence of Metellus and Mucius. Nor would they permit the\nman[304] who alone could have been of service to help us out of our\ndifficulties during the movement of the Latins and their allies towards\nrebellion, violating all our treaties in the presence of factious\ntriumvirs, and creating every day some fresh intrigue, to the\ndisturbance of the worthier and wealthier citizens. This is the reason,\nyoung men, if you will listen to me, why you should regard this new sun\nwith less alarm; for, whether it does exist, or whether it does not\nexist, it is, as you see, quite harmless to us. As to the manner of its\nexistence, we can know little or nothing; and even if we obtained the\nmost perfect understanding of it, this knowledge would make us but\nlittle wiser or happier. But that there should exist a united people\nand a united senate is a thing which actually may be brought about, and\nit will be a great evil if it is not; and that it does not exist at\npresent we are aware; and we see that if it can be effected, our lives\nwill be both better and happier.\n\nXX. Then Mucius said: What, then, do you consider, my Laelius, should be\nour best arguments in endeavoring to bring about the object of your\nwishes?\n\n_Laelius._ Those sciences and arts which teach us how we may be most\nuseful to the State; for I consider that the most glorious office of\nwisdom, and the noblest proof and business of virtue. In order,\ntherefore, that we may consecrate these holidays as much as possible to\nconversations which may be profitable to the Commonwealth, let us beg\nScipio to explain to us what in his estimation appears to be the best\nform of government. Then let us pass on to other points, the knowledge\nof which may lead us, as I hope, to sound political views, and unfold\nthe causes of the dangers which now threaten us.\n\nXXI. When Philus, Manilius, and Mummius had all expressed their great\napprobation of this idea[305] * * * I have ventured [to open our\ndiscussion] in this way, not only because it is but just that on State\npolitics the chief man in the State should be the principal speaker,\nbut also because I recollect that you, Scipio, were formerly very much\nin the habit of conversing with Panaetius and Polybius, two Greeks,\nexceedingly learned in political questions, and that you are master of\nmany arguments by which you prove that by far the best condition of\ngovernment is that which our ancestors have handed down to us. And as\nyou, therefore, are familiar with this subject, if you will explain to\nus your views respecting the general principles of a state (I speak for\nmy friends as well as myself), we shall feel exceedingly obliged to\nyou.\n\nXXII. Then Scipio said: I must acknowledge that there is no subject of\nmeditation to which my mind naturally turns with more ardor and\nintensity than this very one which Laelius has proposed to us. And,\nindeed, as I see that in every profession, every artist who would\ndistinguish himself, thinks of, and aims at, and labors for no other\nobject but that of attaining perfection in his art, should not I, whose\nmain business, according to the example of my father and my ancestors,\nis the advancement and right administration of government, be\nconfessing myself more indolent than any common mechanic if I were to\nbestow on this noblest of sciences less attention and labor than they\ndevote to their insignificant trades? However, I am neither entirely\nsatisfied with the decisions which the greatest and wisest men of\nGreece have left us; nor, on the other hand, do I venture to prefer my\nown opinions to theirs. Therefore, I must request you not to consider\nme either entirely ignorant of the Grecian literature, nor yet\ndisposed, especially in political questions, to yield it the\npre-eminence over our own; but rather to regard me as a true-born\nRoman, not illiberally instructed by the care of my father, and\ninflamed with the desire of knowledge, even from my boyhood, but still\neven more familiar with domestic precepts and practices than the\nliterature of books.\n\nXXIII. On this Philus said: I have no doubt, my Scipio, that no one is\nsuperior to you in natural genius, and that you are very far superior\nto every one in the practical experience of national government and of\nimportant business. We are also acquainted with the course which your\nstudies have at all times taken; and if, as you say, you have given so\nmuch attention to this science and art of politics, we cannot be too\nmuch obliged to Laelius for introducing the subject: for I trust that\nwhat we shall hear from you will be far more useful and available than\nall the writings put together which the Greeks have written for us.\n\nThen Scipio replied: You are raising a very high expectation of my\ndiscourse, such as is a most oppressive burden to a man who is required\nto discuss grave subjects.\n\nAnd Philus said: Although that may be a difficulty, my Scipio, still\nyou will be sure to conquer it, as you always do; nor is there any\ndanger of eloquence failing you, when you begin to speak on the affairs\nof a commonwealth.\n\nXXIV. Then Scipio proceeded: I will do what you wish, as far as I can;\nand I shall enter into the discussion under favor of that rule which, I\nthink, should be adopted by all persons in disputations of this kind,\nif they wish to avoid being misunderstood; namely, that when men have\nagreed respecting the proper name of the matter under discussion, it\nshould be stated what that name exactly means, and what it legitimately\nincludes. And when that point is settled, then it is fit to enter on\nthe discussion; for it will never be possible to arrive at an\nunderstanding of what the character of the subject of the discussion\nis, unless one first understands exactly what it is. Since, then, our\ninvestigations relate to a commonwealth, we must first examine what\nthis name properly signifies.\n\nAnd when Laelius had intimated his approbation of this course, Scipio\ncontinued:\n\nI shall not adopt, said he, in so clear and simple a manner that system\nof discussion which goes back to first principles; as learned men often\ndo in this sort of discussion, so as to go back to the first meeting of\nmale and female, and then to the first birth and formation of the first\nfamily, and define over and over again what there is in words, and in\nhow many manners each thing is stated. For, as I am speaking to men of\nprudence, who have acted with the greatest glory in the Commonwealth,\nboth in peace and war, I will take care not to allow the subject of the\ndiscussion itself to be clearer than my explanation of it. Nor have I\nundertaken this task with the design of examining all its minuter\npoints, like a school-master; nor will I promise you in the following\ndiscourse not to omit any single particular.\n\nThen Laelius said: For my part, I am impatient for exactly that kind of\ndisquisition which you promise us.\n\nXXV. Well, then, said Africanus, a commonwealth is a constitution of\nthe entire people. But the people is not every association of men,\nhowever congregated, but the association of the entire number, bound\ntogether by the compact of justice, and the communication of utility.\nThe first cause of this association is not so much the weakness of man\nas a certain spirit of congregation which naturally belongs to him. For\nthe human race is not a race of isolated individuals, wandering and\nsolitary; but it is so constituted that even in the affluence of all\nthings [and without any need of reciprocal assistance, it spontaneously\nseeks society].\n\nXXVI. [It is necessary to presuppose] these original seeds, as it were,\nsince we cannot discover any primary establishment of the other\nvirtues, or even of a commonwealth itself. These unions, then, formed\nby the principle which I have mentioned, established their headquarters\noriginally in certain central positions, for the convenience of the\nwhole population; and having fortified them by natural and artificial\nmeans, they called this collection of houses a city or town,\ndistinguished by temples and public squares. Every people, therefore,\nwhich consists of such an association of the entire multitude as I have\ndescribed, every city which consists of an assemblage of the people,\nand every commonwealth which embraces every member of these\nassociations, must be regulated by a certain authority, in order to be\npermanent.\n\nThis intelligent authority should always refer itself to that grand\nfirst principle which established the Commonwealth. It must be\ndeposited in the hands of one supreme person, or intrusted to the\nadministration of certain delegated rulers, or undertaken by the whole\nmultitude. When the direction of all depends on one person, we call\nthis individual a king, and this form of political constitution a\nkingdom. When it is in the power of privileged delegates, the State is\nsaid to be ruled by an aristocracy; and when the people are all in all,\nthey call it a democracy, or popular constitution. And if the tie of\nsocial affection, which originally united men in political associations\nfor the sake of public interest, maintains its force, each of these\nforms of government is, I will not say perfect, nor, in my opinion,\nessentially good, but tolerable, and such that one may accidentally be\nbetter than another: either a just and wise king, or a selection of the\nmost eminent citizens, or even the populace itself (though this is the\nleast commendable form), may, if there be no interference of crime and\ncupidity, form a constitution sufficiently secure.\n\nXXVII. But in a monarchy the other members of the State are often too\nmuch deprived of public counsel and jurisdiction; and under the rule of\nan aristocracy the multitude can hardly possess its due share of\nliberty, since it is allowed no share in the public deliberation, and\nno power. And when all things are carried by a democracy, although it\nbe just and moderate, yet its very equality is a culpable levelling,\ninasmuch as it allows no gradations of rank. Therefore, even if Cyrus,\nthe King of the Persians, was a most righteous and wise monarch, I\nshould still think that the interest of the people (for this is, as I\nhave said before, the same as the Commonwealth) could not be very\neffectually promoted when all things depended on the beck and nod of\none individual. And though at present the people of Marseilles, our\nclients, are governed with the greatest justice by elected magistrates\nof the highest rank, still there is always in this condition of the\npeople a certain appearance of servitude; and when the Athenians, at a\ncertain period, having demolished their Areopagus, conducted all public\naffairs by the acts and decrees of the democracy alone, their State, as\nit no longer contained a distinct gradation of ranks, was no longer\nable to retain its original fair appearance.\n\nXXVIII. I have reasoned thus on the three forms of government, not\nlooking on them in their disorganized and confused conditions, but in\ntheir proper and regular administration. These three particular forms,\nhowever, contained in themselves, from the first, the faults and\ndefects I have mentioned; but they have also other dangerous vices, for\nthere is not one of these three forms of government which has not a\nprecipitous and slippery passage down to some proximate abuse. For,\nafter thinking of that endurable, or, as you will have it, most amiable\nking, Cyrus--to name him in preference to any one else--then, to\nproduce a change in our minds, we behold the barbarous Phalaris, that\nmodel of tyranny, to which the monarchical authority is easily abused\nby a facile and natural inclination. And, in like manner, along-side of\nthe wise aristocracy of Marseilles, we might exhibit the oligarchical\nfaction of the thirty tyrants which once existed at Athens. And, not to\nseek for other instances, among the same Athenians, we can show you\nthat when unlimited power was cast into the hands of the people, it\ninflamed the fury of the multitude, and aggravated that universal\nlicense which ruined their State.[306] * * *\n\nXXIX. The worst condition of things sometimes results from a confusion\nof those factious tyrannies into which kings, aristocrats, and\ndemocrats are apt to degenerate. For thus, from these diverse elements,\nthere occasionally arises (as I have said before) a new kind of\ngovernment. And wonderful indeed are the revolutions and periodical\nreturns in natural constitutions of such alternations and vicissitudes,\nwhich it is the part of the wise politician to investigate with the\nclosest attention. But to calculate their approach, and to join to this\nforesight the skill which moderates the course of events, and retains\nin a steady hand the reins of that authority which safely conducts the\npeople through all the dangers to which they expose themselves, is the\nwork of a most illustrious citizen, and of almost divine genius.\n\nThere is a fourth kind of government, therefore, which, in my opinion,\nis preferable to all these: it is that mixed and moderate government\nwhich is composed of the three particular forms which I have already\nnoticed.\n\nXXX. _Laelius._ I am not ignorant, Scipio, that such is your opinion,\nfor I have often heard you say so. But I do not the less desire, if it\nis not giving you too much trouble, to hear which you consider the best\nof these three forms of commonwealths. For it may be of some use in\nconsidering[307] * * *\n\nXXXI. * * * And each commonwealth corresponds to the nature and will of\nhim who governs it. Therefore, in no other constitution than that in\nwhich the people exercise sovereign power has liberty any sure abode,\nthan which there certainly is no more desirable blessing. And if it be\nnot equally established for every one, it is not even liberty at all.\nAnd how can there be this character of equality, I do not say under a\nmonarchy, where slavery is least disguised or doubtful, but even in\nthose constitutions in which the people are free indeed in words, for\nthey give their suffrages, they elect officers, they are canvassed and\nsolicited for magistracies; but yet they only grant those things which\nthey are obliged to grant whether they will or not, and which are not\nreally in their free power, though others ask them for them? For they\nare not themselves admitted to the government, to the exercise of\npublic authority, or to offices of select judges, which are permitted\nto those only of ancient families and large fortunes. But in a free\npeople, as among the Rhodians and Athenians, there is no citizen\nwho[308] * * *\n\nXXXII. * * * No sooner is one man, or several, elevated by wealth and\npower, than they say that * * * arise from their pride and arrogance,\nwhen the idle and the timid give way, and bow down to the insolence of\nriches. But if the people knew how to maintain its rights, then they\nsay that nothing could be more glorious and prosperous than democracy;\ninasmuch as they themselves would be the sovereign dispensers of laws,\njudgments, war, peace, public treaties, and, finally, of the fortune\nand life of each individual citizen; and this condition of things is\nthe only one which, in their opinion, can be really called a\ncommonwealth, that is to say, a constitution of the people. It is on\nthis principle that, according to them, a people often vindicates its\nliberty from the domination of kings and nobles; while, on the other\nhand, kings are not sought for among free peoples, nor are the power\nand wealth of aristocracies. They deny, moreover, that it is fair to\nreject this general constitution of freemen, on account of the vices of\nthe unbridled populace; but that if the people be united and inclined,\nand directs all its efforts to the safety and freedom of the community,\nnothing can be stronger or more unchangeable; and they assert that this\nnecessary union is easily obtained in a republic so constituted that\nthe good of all classes is the same; while the conflicting interests\nthat prevail in other constitutions inevitably produce dissensions;\ntherefore, say they, when the senate had the ascendency, the republic\nhad no stability; and when kings possess the power, this blessing is\nstill more rare, since, as Ennius expresses it,\n\n    In kingdoms there's no faith, and little love.\n\nWherefore, since the law is the bond of civil society, and the justice\nof the law equal, by what rule can the association of citizens be held\ntogether, if the condition of the citizens be not equal? For if the\nfortunes of men cannot be reduced to this equality--if genius cannot be\nequally the property of all--rights, at least, should be equal among\nthose who are citizens of the same republic. For what is a republic but\nan association of rights?[309] * * *\n\nXXXIII. But as to the other political constitutions, these democratical\nadvocates do not think they are worthy of being distinguished by the\nname which they claim. For why, say they, should we apply the name of\nking, the title of Jupiter the Beneficent, and not rather the title of\ntyrant, to a man ambitious of sole authority and power, lording it over\na degraded multitude? For a tyrant may be as merciful as a king may be\noppressive; so that the whole difference to the people is, whether they\nserve an indulgent master or a cruel one, since serve some one they\nmust. But how could Sparta, at the period of the boasted superiority of\nher political institution, obtain a constant enjoyment of just and\nvirtuous kings, when they necessarily received an hereditary monarch,\ngood, bad, or indifferent, because he happened to be of the blood\nroyal? As to aristocrats, Who will endure, say they, that men should\ndistinguish themselves by such a title, and that not by the voice of\nthe people, but by their own votes? For how is such a one judged to be\nbest either in learning, sciences, or arts?[310] * * *\n\nXXXIV. * * * If it does so by hap-hazard, it will be as easily upset as\na vessel if the pilot were chosen by lot from among the passengers. But\nif a people, being free, chooses those to whom it can trust\nitself--and, if it desires its own preservation, it will always choose\nthe noblest--then certainly it is in the counsels of the aristocracy\nthat the safety of the State consists, especially as nature has not\nonly appointed that these superior men should excel the inferior sort\nin high virtue and courage, but has inspired the people also with the\ndesire of obedience towards these, their natural lords. But they say\nthis aristocratical State is destroyed by the depraved opinions of men,\nwho, through ignorance of virtue (which, as it belongs to few, can be\ndiscerned and appreciated by few), imagine that not only rich and\npowerful men, but also those who are nobly born, are necessarily the\nbest. And so when, through this popular error, the riches, and not the\nvirtue, of a few men has taken possession of the State, these chiefs\nobstinately retain the title of nobles, though they want the essence of\nnobility. For riches, fame, and power, without wisdom and a just method\nof regulating ourselves and commanding others, are full of discredit\nand insolent arrogance; nor is there any kind of government more\ndeformed than that in which the wealthiest are regarded as the noblest.\n\nBut when virtue governs the Commonwealth, what can be more glorious?\nWhen he who commands the rest is himself enslaved by no lust or\npassion; when he himself exhibits all the virtues to which he incites\nand educates the citizens; when he imposes no law on the people which\nhe does not himself observe, but presents his life as a living law to\nhis fellow-countrymen; if a single individual could thus suffice for\nall, there would be no need of more; and if the community could find a\nchief ruler thus worthy of all their suffrages, none would require\nelected magistrates.\n\nIt was the difficulty of forming plans which transferred the government\nfrom a king into the hands of many; and the error and temerity of the\npeople likewise transferred it from the hands of the many into those of\nthe few. Thus, between the weakness of the monarch and the rashness of\nthe multitude, the aristocrats have occupied the middle place, than\nwhich nothing can be better arranged; and while they superintend the\npublic interest, the people necessarily enjoy the greatest possible\nprosperity, being free from all care and anxiety, having intrusted\ntheir security to others, who ought sedulously to defend it, and not\nallow the people to suspect that their advantage is neglected by their\nrulers.\n\nFor as to that equality of rights which democracies so loudly boast of,\nit can never be maintained; for the people themselves, so dissolute and\nso unbridled, are always inclined to flatter a number of demagogues;\nand there is in them a very great partiality for certain men and\ndignities, so that their equality, so called, becomes most unfair and\niniquitous. For as equal honor is given to the most noble and the most\ninfamous, some of whom must exist in every State, then the equity which\nthey eulogize becomes most inequitable--an evil which never can happen\nin those states which are governed by aristocracies. These reasonings,\nmy Laelius, and some others of the same kind, are usually brought\nforward by those that so highly extol this form of political\nconstitution.\n\nXXXV. Then Laelius said: But you have not told us, Scipio, which of\nthese three forms of government you yourself most approve.\n\n_Scipio._ You are right to shape your question, which of the three I\nmost approve, for there is not one of them which I approve at all by\nitself, since, as I told you, I prefer that government which is mixed\nand composed of all these forms, to any one of them taken separately.\nBut if I must confine myself to one of these particular forms simply\nand exclusively, I must confess I prefer the royal one, and praise that\nas the first and best. In this, which I here choose to call the\nprimitive form of government, I find the title of father attached to\nthat of king, to express that he watches over the citizens as over his\nchildren, and endeavors rather to preserve them in freedom than reduce\nthem to slavery. So that it is more advantageous for those who are\ninsignificant in property and capacity to be supported by the care of\none excellent and eminently powerful man. The nobles here present\nthemselves, who profess that they can do all this in much better style;\nfor they say that there is much more wisdom in many than in one, and at\nleast as much faith and equity. And, last of all, come the people, who\ncry with a loud voice that they will render obedience neither to the\none nor the few; that even to brute beasts nothing is so dear as\nliberty; and that all men who serve either kings or nobles are deprived\nof it. Thus, the kings attract us by affection, the nobles by talent,\nthe people by liberty; and in the comparison it is hard to choose the\nbest.\n\n_Laelius._ I think so too, but yet it is impossible to despatch the\nother branches of the question, if you leave this primary point\nundetermined.\n\nXXXVI. _Scipio._ We must then, I suppose, imitate Aratus, who, when he\nprepared himself to treat of great things, thought himself in duty\nbound to begin with Jupiter.\n\n_Laelius._ Wherefore Jupiter? and what is there in this discussion which\nresembles that poem?\n\n_Scipio._ Why, it serves to teach us that we cannot better commence our\ninvestigations than by invoking him whom, with one voice, both learned\nand unlearned extol as the universal king of all gods and men.\n\nHow so? said Laelius.\n\nDo you, then, asked Scipio, believe in nothing which is not before your\neyes? whether these ideas have been established by the chiefs of states\nfor the benefit of society, that there might be believed to exist one\nUniversal Monarch in heaven, at whose nod (as Homer expresses it) all\nOlympus trembles, and that he might be accounted both king and father\nof all creatures; for there is great authority, and there are many\nwitnesses, if you choose to call all many, who attest that all nations\nhave unanimously recognized, by the decrees of their chiefs, that\nnothing is better than a king, since they think that all the Gods are\ngoverned by the divine power of one sovereign; or if we suspect that\nthis opinion rests on the error of the ignorant, and should be classed\namong the fables, let us listen to those universal testimonies of\nerudite men, who have, as it were, seen with their eyes those things to\nthe knowledge of which we can hardly attain by report.\n\nWhat men do you mean? said Laelius.\n\nThose, replied Scipio, who, by the investigation of nature, have\narrived at the opinion that the whole universe [is animated] by a\nsingle Mind[311]. * * *\n\nXXXVII. But if you please, my Laelius, I will bring forward evidences\nwhich are neither too ancient nor in any respect barbarous.\n\nThose, said Laelius, are what I want.\n\n_Scipio._ You are aware that it is now not four centuries since this\ncity of ours has been without kings.\n\n_Laelius._ You are correct; it is less than four centuries.\n\n_Scipio._ Well, then, what are four centuries in the age of a state or\ncity? is it a long time?\n\n_Laelius._ It hardly amounts to the age of maturity.\n\n_Scipio._ You say truly; and yet not four centuries have elapsed since\nthere was a king in Rome.\n\n_Laelius._ And he was a proud king.\n\n_Scipio._ But who was his predecessor?\n\n_Laelius._ He was an admirably just one; and, indeed, we must bestow the\nsame praise on all his predecessors as far back as Romulus, who reigned\nabout six centuries ago.\n\n_Scipio._ Even he, then, is not very ancient.\n\n_Laelius._ No; he reigned when Greece was already becoming old.\n\n_Scipio._ Agreed. Was Romulus, then, think you, king of a barbarous\npeople?\n\n_Laelius._ Why, as to that, if we were to follow the example of the\nGreeks, who say that all people are either Greeks or barbarians, I am\nafraid that we must confess that he was a king of barbarians; but if\nthis name belongs rather to manners than to languages, then I believe\nthe Greeks were just as barbarous as the Romans.\n\nThen Scipio said: But with respect to the present question, we do not\nso much need to inquire into the nation as into the disposition. For if\nintelligent men, at a period so little remote, desired the government\nof kings, you will confess that I am producing authorities that are\nneither antiquated, rude, nor insignificant.\n\nXXXVIII. Then Laelius said: I see, Scipio, that you are very\nsufficiently provided with authorities; but with me, as with every fair\njudge, authorities are worth less than arguments.\n\nScipio replied: Then, Laelius, you shall yourself make use of an\nargument derived from your own senses.\n\n_Laelius._ What senses do you mean?\n\n_Scipio._ The feelings which you experience when at any time you happen\nto feel angry with any one.\n\n_Laelius._ That happens rather oftener than I could wish.\n\n_Scipio._ Well, then, when you are angry, do you permit your anger to\ntriumph over your judgment?\n\nNo, by Hercules! said Laelius; I imitate the famous Archytas of\nTarentum, who, when he came to his villa, and found all its\narrangements were contrary to his orders, said to his steward, \"Ah! you\nunlucky scoundrel, I would flog you to death, if it were not that I am\nin a rage with you.\"\n\nCapital, said Scipio. Archytas, then, regarded unreasonable anger as a\nkind of sedition and rebellion of nature which he sought to appease by\nreflection. And so, if we examine avarice, the ambition of power or of\nglory, or the lusts of concupiscence and licentiousness, we shall find\na certain conscience in the mind of man, which, like a king, sways by\nthe force of counsel all the inferior faculties and propensities; and\nthis, in truth, is the noblest portion of our nature; for when\nconscience reigns, it allows no resting-place to lust, violence, or\ntemerity.\n\n_Laelius._ You have spoken the truth.\n\n_Scipio._ Well, then, does a mind thus governed and regulated meet your\napprobation?\n\n_Laelius._ More than anything upon earth.\n\n_Scipio._ Then you would not approve that the evil passions, which are\ninnumerable, should expel conscience, and that lusts and animal\npropensities should assume an ascendency over us?\n\n_Laelius._ For my part, I can conceive nothing more wretched than a mind\nthus degraded, or a man animated by a soul so licentious.\n\n_Scipio._ You desire, then, that all the faculties of the mind should\nsubmit to a ruling power, and that conscience should reign over them\nall?\n\n_Laelius._ Certainly, that is my wish.\n\n_Scipio._ How, then, can you doubt what opinion to form on the subject\nof the Commonwealth? in which, if the State is thrown into many hands,\nit is very plain that there will be no presiding authority; for if\npower be not united, it soon comes to nothing.\n\nXXXIX. Then Laelius asked: But what difference is there, I should like\nto know, between the one and the many, if justice exists equally in\nmany?\n\nAnd Scipio said: Since I see, my Laelius, that the authorities I have\nadduced have no great influence on you, I must continue to employ you\nyourself as my witness in proof of what I am saying.\n\nIn what way, said Laelius, are you going to make me again support your\nargument?\n\n_Scipio._ Why, thus: I recollect, when we were lately at Formiae, that\nyou told your servants repeatedly to obey the orders of more than one\nmaster only.\n\n_Laelius._ To be sure, those of my steward.\n\n_Scipio._ What do you at home? Do you commit your affairs to the hands\nof many persons?\n\n_Laelius._ No, I trust them to myself alone.\n\n_Scipio._ Well, in your whole establishment, is there any other master\nbut yourself?\n\n_Laelius._ Not one.\n\n_Scipio._ Then I think you must grant me that, as respects the State,\nthe government of single individuals, provided they are just, is\nsuperior to any other.\n\n_Laelius._ You have conducted me to this conclusion, and I entertain\nvery nearly that opinion.\n\nXL. And Scipio said: You would still further agree with me, my Laelius,\nif, omitting the common comparisons, that one pilot is better fitted to\nsteer a ship, and a physician to treat an invalid, provided they be\ncompetent men in their respective professions, than many could be, I\nshould come at once to more illustrious examples.\n\n_Laelius._ What examples do you mean?\n\n_Scipio._ Do not you observe that it was the cruelty and pride of one\nsingle Tarquin only that made the title of king unpopular among the\nRomans?\n\n_Laelius._ Yes, I acknowledge that.\n\n_Scipio._ You are also aware of this fact, on which I think I shall\ndebate in the course of the coming discussion, that after the expulsion\nof King Tarquin, the people was transported by a wonderful excess of\nliberty. Then innocent men were driven into banishment; then the\nestates of many individuals were pillaged, consulships were made\nannual, public authorities were overawed by mobs, popular appeals took\nplace in all cases imaginable; then secessions of the lower orders\nensued, and, lastly, those proceedings which tended to place all powers\nin the hands of the populace.\n\n_Laelius._ I must confess this is all too true.\n\nAll these things now, said Scipio, happened during periods of peace and\ntranquillity, for license is wont to prevail when there is little to\nfear, as in a calm voyage or a trifling disease. But as we observe the\nvoyager and the invalid implore the aid of some one competent director,\nas soon as the sea grows stormy and the disease alarming, so our nation\nin peace and security commands, threatens, resists, appeals from, and\ninsults its magistrates, but in war obeys them as strictly as kings;\nfor public safety is, after all, rather more valuable than popular\nlicense. And in the most serious wars, our countrymen have even chosen\nthe entire command to be deposited in the hands of some single chief,\nwithout a colleague; the very name of which magistrate indicates the\nabsolute character of his power. For though he is evidently called\ndictator because he is appointed (dicitur), yet do we still observe\nhim, my Laelius, in our sacred books entitled Magister Populi (the\nmaster of the people).\n\nThis is certainly the case, said Laelius.\n\nOur ancestors, therefore, said Scipio, acted wisely.[312] * * *\n\nXLI. When the people is deprived of a just king, as Ennius says, after\nthe death of one of the best of monarchs,\n\n    They hold his memory dear, and, in the warmth\n    Of their discourse, they cry, O Romulus!\n    O prince divine, sprung from the might of Mars\n    To be thy country's guardian! O our sire!\n    Be our protector still, O heaven-begot!\n\nNot heroes, nor lords alone, did they call those whom they lawfully\nobeyed; nor merely as kings did they proclaim them; but they pronounced\nthem their country's guardians, their fathers, and their Gods. Nor,\nindeed, without cause, for they added,\n\n    Thou, Prince, hast brought us to the gates of light.\n\nAnd truly they believed that life and honor and glory had arisen to\nthem from the justice of their king. The same good-will would doubtless\nhave remained in their descendants, if the same virtues had been\npreserved on the throne; but, as you see, by the injustice of one man\nthe whole of that kind of constitution fell into ruin.\n\nI see it indeed, said Laelius, and I long to know the history of these\npolitical revolutions both in our own Commonwealth and in every other.\n\nXLII. And Scipio said: When I shall have explained my opinion\nrespecting the form of government which I prefer, I shall be able to\nspeak to you more accurately respecting the revolutions of states,\nthough I think that such will not take place so easily in the mixed\nform of government which I recommend. With respect, however, to\nabsolute monarchy, it presents an inherent and invincible tendency to\nrevolution. No sooner does a king begin to be unjust than this entire\nform of government is demolished, and he at once becomes a tyrant,\nwhich is the worst of all governments, and one very closely related to\nmonarchy. If this State falls into the hands of the nobles, which is\nthe usual course of events, it becomes an aristocracy, or the second of\nthe three kinds of constitutions which I have described; for it is, as\nit were, a royal--that is to say, a paternal--council of the chief men\nof the State consulting for the public benefit. Or if the people by\nitself has expelled or slain a tyrant, it is moderate in its conduct as\nlong as it has sense and wisdom, and while it rejoices in its exploit,\nand applies itself to maintaining the constitution which it has\nestablished. But if ever the people has raised its forces against a\njust king and robbed him of his throne, or, as has frequently happened,\nhas tasted the blood of its legitimate nobles, and subjected the whole\nCommonwealth to its own license, you can imagine no flood or\nconflagration so terrible, or any whose violence is harder to appease\nthan this unbridled insolence of the populace.\n\nXLIII. Then we see realized that which Plato so vividly describes, if I\ncan but express it in our language. It is by no means easy to do it\njustice in translation: however, I will try.\n\nWhen, says Plato, the insatiate jaws of the populace are fired with the\nthirst of liberty, and when the people, urged on by evil ministers,\ndrains in its thirst the cup, not of tempered liberty, but unmitigated\nlicense, then the magistrates and chiefs, if they are not utterly\nsubservient and remiss, and shameless promoters of the popular\nlicentiousness, are pursued, incriminated, accused, and cried down\nunder the title of despots and tyrants. I dare say you recollect the\npassage.\n\nYes, said Laelius, it is familiar to me.\n\n_Scipio._ Plato thus proceeds: Then those who feel in duty bound to\nobey the chiefs of the State are persecuted by the insensate populace,\nwho call them voluntary slaves. But those who, though invested with\nmagistracies, wish to be considered on an equality with private\nindividuals, and those private individuals who labor to abolish all\ndistinctions between their own class and the magistrates, are extolled\nwith acclamations and overwhelmed with honors, so that it inevitably\nhappens in a commonwealth thus revolutionized that liberalism abounds\nin all directions, due authority is found wanting even in private\nfamilies, and misrule seems to extend even to the animals that witness\nit. Then the father fears the son, and the son neglects the father. All\nmodesty is banished; they become far too liberal for that. No\ndifference is made between the citizen and the alien; the master dreads\nand cajoles his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters. The\nyoung men assume the gravity of sages, and sages must stoop to the\nfollies of children, lest they should be hated and oppressed by them.\nThe very slaves even are under but little restraint; wives boast the\nsame rights as their husbands; dogs, horses, and asses are emancipated\nin this outrageous excess of freedom, and run about so violently that\nthey frighten the passengers from the road. At length the termination\nof all this infinite licentiousness is, that the minds of the citizens\nbecome so fastidious and effeminate, that when they observe even the\nslightest exertion of authority they grow angry and seditious, and thus\nthe laws begin to be neglected, so that the people are absolutely\nwithout any master at all.\n\nThen Laelius said: You have very accurately rendered the opinions which\nhe expressed.\n\nXLIV. _Scipio._ Now, to return to the argument of my discourse. It\nappears that this extreme license, which is the only liberty in the\neyes of the vulgar, is, according to Plato, such that from it as a sort\nof root tyrants naturally arise and spring up. For as the excessive\npower of an aristocracy occasions the destruction of the nobles, so\nthis excessive liberalism of democracies brings after it the slavery of\nthe people. Thus we find in the weather, the soil, and the animal\nconstitution the most favorable conditions are sometimes suddenly\nconverted by their excess into the contrary, and this fact is\nespecially observable in political governments; and this excessive\nliberty soon brings the people collectively and individually to an\nexcessive servitude. For, as I said, this extreme liberty easily\nintroduces the reign of tyranny, the severest of all unjust slaveries.\nIn fact, from the midst of this unbridled and capricious populace, they\nelect some one as a leader in opposition to their afflicted and\nexpelled nobles: some new chief, forsooth, audacious and impure, often\ninsolently persecuting those who have deserved well of the State, and\nready to gratify the populace at his neighbor's expense as well as his\nown. Then, since the private condition is naturally exposed to fears\nand alarms, the people invest him with many powers, and these are\ncontinued in his hands. Such men, like Pisistratus of Athens, will soon\nfind an excuse for surrounding themselves with body-guards, and they\nwill conclude by becoming tyrants over the very persons who raised them\nto dignity. If such despots perish by the vengeance of the better\ncitizens, as is generally the case, the constitution is re-established;\nbut if they fall by the hands of bold insurgents, then the same faction\nsucceeds them, which is only another species of tyranny. And the same\nrevolution arises from the fair system of aristocracy when any\ncorruption has betrayed the nobles from the path of rectitude. Thus the\npower is like the ball which is flung from hand to hand: it passes from\nkings to tyrants, from tyrants to the aristocracy, from them to\ndemocracy, and from these back again to tyrants and to factions; and\nthus the same kind of government is seldom long maintained.\n\nXLV. Since these are the facts of experience, royalty is, in my\nopinion, very far preferable to the three other kinds of political\nconstitutions. But it is itself inferior to that which is composed of\nan equal mixture of the three best forms of government, united and\nmodified by one another. I wish to establish in a commonwealth a royal\nand pre-eminent chief. Another portion of power should be deposited in\nthe hands of the aristocracy, and certain things should be reserved to\nthe judgment and wish of the multitude. This constitution, in the first\nplace, possesses that great equality without which men cannot long\nmaintain their freedom; secondly, it offers a great stability, while\nthe particular separate and isolated forms easily fall into their\ncontraries; so that a king is succeeded by a despot, an aristocracy by\na faction, a democracy by a mob and confusion; and all these forms are\nfrequently sacrificed to new revolutions. In this united and mixed\nconstitution, however, similar disasters cannot happen without the\ngreatest vices in public men. For there can be little to occasion\nrevolution in a state in which every person is firmly established in\nhis appropriate rank, and there are but few modes of corruption into\nwhich we can fall.\n\nXLVI. But I fear, Laelius, and you, my amiable and learned friends, that\nif I were to dwell any longer on this argument, my words would seem\nrather like the lessons of a master, and not like the free conversation\nof one who is uniting with you in the consideration of truth. I shall\ntherefore pass on to those things which are familiar to all, and which\nI have long studied. And in these matters I believe, I feel, and I\naffirm that of all governments there is none which, either in its\nentire constitution or the distribution of its parts, or in the\ndiscipline of its manners, is comparable to that which our fathers\nreceived from our earliest ancestors, and which they have handed down\nto us. And since you wish to hear from me a development of this\nconstitution, with which you are all acquainted, I shall endeavor to\nexplain its true character and excellence. Thus keeping my eye fixed on\nthe model of our Roman Commonwealth, I shall endeavor to accommodate to\nit all that I have to say on the best form of government. And by\ntreating the subject in this way, I think I shall be able to accomplish\nmost satisfactorily the task which Laelius has imposed on me.\n\nXLVII. _Laelius._ It is a task most properly and peculiarly your own, my\nScipio; for who can speak so well as you either on the subject of the\ninstitutions of our ancestors, since you yourself are descended from\nmost illustrious ancestors, or on that of the best form of a\nconstitution which, if we possess (though at this moment we do not,\nstill), when we do possess such a thing, who will be more flourishing\nin it than you? or on that of providing counsels for the future, as\nyou, who, by dispelling two mighty perils from our city, have provided\nfor its safety forever?\n\n\nFRAGMENTS.\n\n\nXLVIII. As our country is the source of the greatest benefits, and is a\nparent dearer than those who have given us life, we owe her still\nwarmer gratitude than belongs to our human relations. * * *\n\nNor would Carthage have continued to flourish during six centuries\nwithout wisdom and good institutions. * * *\n\nIn truth, says Cicero, although the reasonings of those men may contain\nmost abundant fountains of science and virtue; still, if we compare\nthem with the achievements and complete actions of statesmen, they will\nseem not to have been of so much service in the actual business of men\nas of amusement for their leisure.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE SECOND BOOK,\n\nBY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR.\n\n\n   In this second book of his Commonwealth, Cicero gives us a\n     spirited and eloquent review of the history and successive\n     developments of the Roman constitution. He bestows the\n     warmest praises on its early kings, points out the great\n     advantages which had resulted from its primitive monarchical\n     system, and explains how that system had been gradually\n     broken up. In order to prove the importance of reviving it,\n     he gives a glowing picture of the evils and disasters that\n     had befallen the Roman State in consequence of that\n     overcharge of democratic folly and violence which had\n     gradually gained an alarming preponderance, and describes,\n     with a kind of prophetic sagacity, the fruit of his political\n     experience, the subsequent revolutions of the Roman State,\n     which such a state of things would necessarily bring about.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\n\nI. [When, therefore, he observed all his friends kindled with the\nde]sire of hearing him, Scipio thus opened the discussion. I will\ncommence, said Scipio, with a sentiment of old Cato, whom, as you know,\nI singularly loved and exceedingly admired, and to whom, in compliance\nwith the judgment of both my parents, and also by my own desire, I was\nentirely devoted during my youth; of whose discourse, indeed, I could\nnever have enough, so much experience did he possess as a statesman\nrespecting the republic which he had so long governed, both in peace\nand war, with so much success. There was also an admirable propriety in\nhis style of conversation, in which wit was tempered with gravity; a\nwonderful aptitude for acquiring, and at the same time communicating,\ninformation; and his life was in perfect correspondence and unison with\nhis language. He used to say that the government of Rome was superior\nto that of other states for this reason, because in nearly all of them\nthere had been single individuals, each of whom had regulated their\ncommonwealth according to their own laws and their own ordinances. So\nMinos had done in Crete, and Lycurgus in Sparta; and in Athens, which\nexperienced so many revolutions, first Theseus, then Draco, then Solon,\nthen Clisthenes, afterward many others; and, lastly, when it was almost\nlifeless and quite prostrate, that great and wise man, Demetrius\nPhalereus, supported it. But our Roman constitution, on the contrary,\ndid not spring from the genius of one individual, but from that of\nmany; and it was established, not in the lifetime of one man, but in\nthe course of several ages and centuries. For, added he, there never\nyet existed any genius so vast and comprehensive as to allow nothing at\nany time to escape its attention; and all the geniuses in the world\nunited in a single mind could never, within the limits of a single\nlife, exert a foresight sufficiently extensive to embrace and harmonize\nall, without the aid of experience and practice.\n\nThus, according to Cato's usual habit, I now ascend in my discourse to\nthe \"origin of the people,\" for I like to adopt the expression of Cato.\nI shall also more easily execute my proposed task if I thus exhibit to\nyou our political constitution in its infancy, progress, and maturity,\nnow so firm and fully established, than if, after the example of\nSocrates in the books of Plato, I were to delineate a mere imaginary\nrepublic.\n\nII. When all had signified their approbation, Scipio resumed: What\ncommencement of a political constitution can we conceive more\nbrilliant, or more universally known, than the foundation of Rome by\nthe hand of Romulus? And he was the son of Mars: for we may grant this\nmuch to the common report existing among men, especially as it is not\nmerely ancient, but one also which has been wisely maintained by our\nancestors, in order that those who have done great service to\ncommunities may enjoy the reputation of having received from the Gods,\nnot only their genius, but their very birth.\n\nIt is related, then, that soon after the birth of Romulus and his\nbrother Remus, Amulius, King of Alba, fearing that they might one day\nundermine his authority, ordered that they should be exposed on the\nbanks of the Tiber; and that in this situation the infant Romulus was\nsuckled by a wild beast; that he was afterward educated by the\nshepherds, and brought up in the rough way of living and labors of the\ncountrymen; and that he acquired, when he grew up, such superiority\nover the rest by the vigor of his body and the courage of his soul,\nthat all the people who at that time inhabited the plains in the midst\nof which Rome now stands, tranquilly and willingly submitted to his\ngovernment. And when he had made himself the chief of those bands, to\ncome from fables to facts, he took Alba Longa, a powerful and strong\ncity at that time, and slew its king, Amulius.\n\nIII. Having acquired this glory, he conceived the design (as they tell\nus) of founding a new city and establishing a new state. As respected\nthe site of his new city, a point which requires the greatest foresight\nin him who would lay the foundation of a durable commonwealth, he chose\nthe most convenient possible position. For he did not advance too near\nthe sea, which he might easily have done with the forces under his\ncommand, either by entering the territory of the Rutuli and Aborigines,\nor by founding his citadel at the mouth of the Tiber, where many years\nafter Ancus Martius established a colony. But Romulus, with admirable\ngenius and foresight, observed and perceived that sites very near the\nsea are not the most favorable positions for cities which would attain\na durable prosperity and dominion. And this, first, because maritime\ncities are always exposed, not only to many attacks, but to perils they\ncannot provide against. For the continued land gives notice, by many\nindications, not only of any regular approaches, but also of any sudden\nsurprises of an enemy, and announces them beforehand by the mere sound.\nThere is no adversary who, on an inland territory, can arrive so\nswiftly as to prevent our knowing not only his existence, but his\ncharacter too, and where he comes from. But a maritime and naval enemy\ncan fall upon a town on the sea-coast before any one suspects that he\nis about to come; and when he does come, nothing exterior indicates who\nhe is, or whence he comes, or what he wishes; nor can it even be\ndetermined and distinguished on all occasions whether he is a friend or\na foe.\n\nIV. But maritime cities are likewise naturally exposed to corrupt\ninfluences, and revolutions of manners. Their civilization is more or\nless adulterated by new languages and customs, and they import not only\nforeign merchandise, but foreign fashions, to such a degree that\nnothing can continue unalloyed in the national institutions. Those who\ninhabit these maritime towns do not remain in their native place, but\nare urged afar from their homes by winged hope and speculation. And\neven when they do not desert their country in person, still their minds\nare always expatiating and voyaging round the world.\n\nNor, indeed, was there any cause which more deeply undermined Corinth\nand Carthage, and at last overthrew them both, than this wandering and\ndispersion of their citizens, whom the passion of commerce and\nnavigation had induced to abandon the cultivation of their lands and\ntheir attention to military pursuits.\n\nThe proximity of the sea likewise administers to maritime cities a\nmultitude of pernicious incentives to luxury, which are either acquired\nby victory or imported by commerce; and the very agreeableness of their\nposition nourishes many expensive and deceitful gratifications of the\npassions. And what I have spoken of Corinth may be applied, for aught I\nknow, without incorrectness to the whole of Greece. For the\nPeloponnesus itself is almost wholly on the sea-coast; nor, besides the\nPhliasians, are there any whose lands do not touch the sea; and beyond\nthe Peloponnesus, the AEnianes, the Dorians, and the Dolopes are the\nonly inland people. Why should I speak of the Grecian islands, which,\ngirded by the waves, seem all afloat, as it were, together with the\ninstitutions and manners of their cities? And these things, I have\nbefore noticed, do not respect ancient Greece only; for which of all\nthose colonies which have been led from Greece into Asia, Thracia,\nItaly, Sicily, and Africa, with the single exception of Magnesia, is\nthere that is not washed by the sea? Thus it seems as if a sort of\nGrecian coast had been annexed to territories of the barbarians. For\namong the barbarians themselves none were heretofore a maritime people,\nif we except the Carthaginians and Etruscans; one for the sake of\ncommerce, the other of pillage. And this is one evident reason of the\ncalamities and revolutions of Greece, because she became infected with\nthe vices which belong to maritime cities, which I just now briefly\nenumerated. But yet, notwithstanding these vices, they have one great\nadvantage, and one which is of universal application, namely, that\nthere is a great facility for new inhabitants flocking to them. And,\nagain, that the inhabitants are enabled to export and send abroad the\nproduce of their native lands to any nation they please, which offers\nthem a market for their goods.\n\nV. By what divine wisdom, then, could Romulus embrace all the benefits\nthat could belong to maritime cities, and at the same time avoid the\ndangers to which they are exposed, except, as he did, by building his\ncity on the bank of an inexhaustible river, whose equal current\ndischarges itself into the sea by a vast mouth, so that the city could\nreceive all it wanted from the sea, and discharge its superabundant\ncommodities by the same channel? And in the same river a communication\nis found by which it not only receives from the sea all the productions\nnecessary to the conveniences and elegances of life, but those also\nwhich are brought from the inland districts. So that Romulus seems to\nme to have divined and anticipated that this city would one day become\nthe centre and abode of a powerful and opulent empire; for there is no\nother part of Italy in which a city could be situated so as to be able\nto maintain so wide a dominion with so much ease.\n\nVI. As to the natural fortifications of Rome, who is so negligent and\nunobservant as not to have them depicted and deeply stamped on his\nmemory? Such is the plan and direction of the walls, which, by the\nprudence of Romulus and his royal successors, are bounded on all sides\nby steep and rugged hills; and the only aperture between the Esquiline\nand Quirinal mountains is enclosed by a formidable rampart, and\nsurrounded by an immense fosse. And as for our fortified citadel, it is\nso secured by a precipitous barrier and enclosure of rocks, that, even\nin that horrible attack and invasion of the Gauls, it remained\nimpregnable and inviolable. Moreover, the site which he selected had\nalso an abundance of fountains, and was healthy, though it was in the\nmidst of a pestilential region; for there are hills which at once\ncreate a current of fresh air, and fling an agreeable shade over the\nvalleys.\n\nVII. These things he effected with wonderful rapidity, and thus\nestablished the city, which, from his own name Romulus, he determined\nto call Rome. And in order to strengthen his new city, he conceived a\ndesign, singular enough, and even a little rude, yet worthy of a great\nman, and of a genius which discerned far away in futurity the means of\nstrengthening his power and his people. The young Sabine females of\nhonorable birth who had come to Rome, attracted by the public games and\nspectacles which Romulus then, for the first time, established as\nannual games in the circus, were suddenly carried off at the feast of\nConsus[313] by his orders, and were given in marriage to the men of the\nnoblest families in Rome. And when, on this account, the Sabines had\ndeclared war against Rome, the issue of the battle being doubtful and\nundecided, Romulus made an alliance with Tatius, King of the Sabines,\nat the intercession of the matrons themselves who had been carried off.\nBy this compact he admitted the Sabines into the city, gave them a\nparticipation in the religious ceremonies, and divided his power with\ntheir king.\n\nVIII. But after the death of Tatius, the entire government was again\nvested in the hands of Romulus, although, besides making Tatius his own\npartner, he had also elected some of the chiefs of the Sabines into the\nroyal council, who on account of their affectionate regard for the\npeople were called _patres_, or fathers. He also divided the people\ninto three tribes, called after the name of Tatius, and his own name,\nand that of Locumo, who had fallen as his ally in the Sabine war; and\nalso into thirty curiae, designated by the names of those Sabine\nvirgins, who, after being carried off at the festivals, generously\noffered themselves as the mediators of peace and coalition.\n\nBut though these orders were established in the life of Tatius, yet,\nafter his death, Romulus reigned with still greater power by the\ncounsel and authority of the senate.\n\nIX. In this respect he approved and adopted the principle which\nLycurgus but little before had applied to the government of Lacedaemon;\nnamely, that the monarchical authority and the royal power operate best\nin the government of states when to this supreme authority is joined\nthe influence of the noblest of the citizens.\n\nTherefore, thus supported, and, as it were, propped up by this council\nor senate, Romulus conducted many wars with the neighboring nations in\na most successful manner; and while he refused to take any portion of\nthe booty to his own palace, he did not cease to enrich the citizens.\nHe also cherished the greatest respect for that institution of\nhierarchical and ecclesiastical ordinances which we still retain to the\ngreat benefit of the Commonwealth; for in the very commencement of his\ngovernment he founded the city with religious rites, and in the\ninstitution of all public establishments he was equally careful in\nattending to these sacred ceremonials, and associated with himself on\nthese occasions priests that were selected from each of the tribes. He\nalso enacted that the nobles should act as patrons and protectors to\nthe inferior citizens, their natural clients and dependants, in their\nrespective districts, a measure the utility of which I shall afterward\nnotice.--The judicial punishments were mostly fines of sheep and oxen;\nfor the property of the people at that time consisted in their fields\nand cattle, and this circumstance has given rise to the expressions\nwhich still designate real and personal wealth. Thus the people were\nkept in order rather by mulctations than by bodily inflictions.\n\nX. After Romulus had thus reigned thirty-seven years, and established\nthese two great supports of government, the hierarchy and the senate,\nhaving disappeared in a sudden eclipse of the sun, he was thought\nworthy of being added to the number of the Gods--an honor which no\nmortal man ever was able to attain to but by a glorious pre-eminence of\nvirtue. And this circumstance was the more to be admired in the case of\nRomulus because most of the great men that have been deified were so\nexalted to celestial dignities by the people, in periods very little\nenlightened, when fiction was easy and ignorance went hand-in-hand with\ncredulity. But with respect to Romulus we know that he lived less than\nsix centuries ago, at a time when science and literature were already\nadvanced, and had got rid of many of the ancient errors that had\nprevailed among less civilized peoples. For if, as we consider proved\nby the Grecian annals, Rome was founded in the seventh Olympiad, the\nlife of Romulus was contemporary with that period in which Greece\nalready abounded in poets and musicians--an age when fables, except\nthose concerning ancient matters, received little credit.\n\nFor, one hundred and eight years after the promulgation of the laws of\nLycurgus, the first Olympiad was established, which indeed, through a\nmistake of names, some authors have supposed constituted, by Lycurgus\nlikewise. And Homer himself, according to the best computation, lived\nabout thirty years before the time of Lycurgus. We must conclude,\ntherefore, that Homer flourished very many years before the date of\nRomulus. So that, as men had now become learned, and as the times\nthemselves were not destitute of knowledge, there was not much room\nleft for the success of mere fictions. Antiquity indeed has received\nfables that have at times been sufficiently improbable: but this epoch,\nwhich was already so cultivated, disdaining every fiction that was\nimpossible, rejected[314] * * * We may therefore, perhaps, attach some\ncredit to this story of Romulus's immortality, since human life was at\nthat time experienced, cultivated, and instructed. And doubtless there\nwas in him such energy of genius and virtue that it is not altogether\nimpossible to believe the report of Proculus Julius, the husbandman, of\nthat glorification having befallen Romulus which for many ages we have\ndenied to less illustrious men. At all events, Proculus is reported to\nhave stated in the council, at the instigation of the senators, who\nwished to free themselves from all suspicion of having been accessaries\nto the death of Romulus, that he had seen him on that hill which is now\ncalled the Quirinal, and that he had commanded him to inform the people\nthat they should build him a temple on that same hill, and offer him\nsacrifices under the name of Quirinus.\n\nXI. You see, therefore, that the genius of this great man did not\nmerely establish the constitution of a new people, and then leave them,\nas it were, crying in their cradle; but he still continued to\nsuperintend their education till they had arrived at an adult and\nwellnigh a mature age.\n\nThen Laelius said: We now see, my Scipio, what you meant when you said\nthat you would adopt a new method of discussing the science of\ngovernment, different from any found in the writings of the Greeks. For\nthat prime master of philosophy, whom none ever surpassed in eloquence,\nI mean Plato, chose an open plain on which to build an imaginary city\nafter his own taste--a city admirably conceived, as none can deny, but\nremote enough from the real life and manners of men. Others, without\nproposing to themselves any model or type of government whatever, have\nargued on the constitutions and forms of states. You, on the contrary,\nappear to be about to unite these two methods; for, as far as you have\ngone, you seem to prefer attributing to others your discoveries, rather\nthan start new theories under your own name and authority, as Socrates\nhas done in the writings of Plato. Thus, in speaking of the site of\nRome, you refer to a systematic policy, to the acts of Romulus, which\nwere many of them the result of necessity or chance; and you do not\nallow your discourse to run riot over many states, but you fix and\nconcentrate it on our own Commonwealth. Proceed, then, in the course\nyou have adopted; for I see that you intend to examine our other kings,\nin your pursuit of a perfect republic, as it were.\n\nXII. Therefore, said Scipio, when that senate of Romulus which was\ncomposed of the nobles, whom the king himself respected so highly that\nhe designated them _patres_, or fathers, and their children patricians,\nattempted after the death of Romulus to conduct the government without\na king, the people would not suffer it, but, amidst their regret for\nRomulus, desisted not from demanding a fresh monarch. The nobles then\nprudently resolved to establish an interregnum--a new political form,\nunknown to other nations. It was not without its use, however, since,\nduring the interval which elapsed before the definitive nomination of\nthe new king, the State was not left without a ruler, nor subjected too\nlong to the same governor, nor exposed to the fear lest some one, in\nconsequence of the prolonged enjoyment of power, should become more\nunwilling to lay it aside, or more powerful if he wished to secure it\npermanently for himself. At which time this new nation discovered a\npolitical provision which had escaped the Spartan Lycurgus, who\nconceived that the monarch ought not to be elective--if indeed it is\ntrue that this depended on Lycurgus--but that it was better for the\nLacedaemonians to acknowledge as their sovereign the next heir of the\nrace of Hercules, whoever he might be: but our Romans, rude as they\nwere, saw the importance of appointing a king, not for his family, but\nfor his virtue and experience.\n\nXIII. And fame having recognized these eminent qualities in Numa\nPompilius, the Roman people, without partiality for their own citizens,\ncommitted itself, by the counsel of the senators, to a king of foreign\norigin, and summoned this Sabine from the city of Cures to Rome, that\nhe might reign over them. Numa, although the people had proclaimed him\nking in their Comitia Curiata, did nevertheless himself pass a Lex\nCuriata respecting his own authority; and observing that the\ninstitutions of Romulus had too much excited the military propensities\nof the people, he judged it expedient to recall them from this habit of\nwarfare by other employments.\n\nXIV. And, in the first place, he divided severally among the citizens\nthe lands which Romulus had conquered, and taught them that even\nwithout the aid of pillage and devastation they could, by the\ncultivation of their own territories, procure themselves all kinds of\ncommodities. And he inspired them with the love of peace and\ntranquillity, in which faith and justice are likeliest to flourish, and\nextended the most powerful protection to the people in the cultivation\nof their fields and the enjoyment of their produce. Pompilius likewise\nhaving created hierarchical institutions of the highest class, added\ntwo augurs to the old number. He intrusted the superintendence of the\nsacred rites to five pontiffs, selected from the body of the nobles;\nand by those laws which we still preserve on our monuments he\nmitigated, by religious ceremonials, the minds that had been too long\ninflamed by military enthusiasm and enterprise.\n\nHe also established the Flamines and the Salian priests and the Vestal\nVirgins, and regulated all departments of our ecclesiastical policy\nwith the most pious care. In the ordinance of sacrifices, he wished\nthat the ceremonial should be very arduous and the expenditure very\nlight. He thus appointed many observances, whose knowledge is extremely\nimportant, and whose expense far from burdensome. Thus in religious\nworship he added devotion and removed costliness. He was also the first\nto introduce markets, games, and the other usual methods of assembling\nand uniting men. By these establishments, he inclined to benevolence\nand amiability spirits whom the passion for war had rendered savage and\nferocious. Having thus reigned in the greatest peace and concord\nthirty-nine years--for in dates we mainly follow our Polybius, than\nwhom no one ever gave more attention to the investigation of the\nhistory of the times--he departed this life, having corroborated the\ntwo grand principles of political stability, religion and clemency.\n\nXV. When Scipio had concluded these remarks, Is it not, said Manilius,\na true tradition which is current, that our king Numa was a disciple of\nPythagoras himself, or that at least he was a Pythagorean in his\ndoctrines? For I have often heard this from my elders, and we know that\nit is the popular opinion; but it does not seem to be clearly proved by\nthe testimony of our public annals.\n\nThen Scipio replied: The supposition is false, my Manilius; it is not\nmerely a fiction, but a ridiculous and bungling one too; and we should\nnot tolerate those statements, even in fiction, relating to facts which\nnot only did not happen, but which never could have happened. For it\nwas not till the fourth year of the reign of Tarquinius Superbus that\nPythagoras is ascertained to have come to Sybaris, Crotona, and this\npart of Italy. And the sixty-second Olympiad is the common date of the\nelevation of Tarquin to the throne, and of the arrival of Pythagoras.\nFrom which it appears, when we calculate the duration of the reigns of\nthe kings, that about one hundred and forty years must have elapsed\nafter the death of Numa before Pythagoras first arrived in Italy. And\nthis fact, in the minds of men who have carefully studied the annals of\ntime, has never been at all doubted.\n\nO ye immortal Gods! said Manilius, how deep and how inveterate is this\nerror in the minds of men! However, it costs me no effort to concede\nthat our Roman sciences were not imported from beyond the seas, but\nthat they sprung from our own indigenous and domestic virtues.\n\nXVI. You will become still more convinced of this fact, said Africanus,\nwhen tracing the progress of our Commonwealth as it became gradually\ndeveloped to its best and maturest condition. And you will find yet\nfurther occasion to admire the wisdom of our ancestors on this very\naccount, since you will perceive, that even those things which they\nborrowed from foreigners received a much higher improvement among us\nthan they possessed in the countries from whence they were imported\namong us; and you will learn that the Roman people was aggrandized, not\nby chance or hazard, but rather by counsel and discipline, to which\nfortune indeed was by no means unfavorable.\n\nXVII. After the death of King Pompilius, the people, after a short\nperiod of interregnum, chose Tullus Hostilius for their king, in the\nComitia Curiata; and Tullus, after Numa's example, consulted the people\nin their curias to procure a sanction for his government. His\nexcellence chiefly appeared in his military glory and great\nachievements in war. He likewise, out of his military spoils,\nconstructed and decorated the House of Comitia and the Senate-house. He\nalso settled the ceremonies of the proclamation of hostilities, and\nconsecrated their righteous institution by the religious sanction of\nthe Fetial priests, so that every war which was not duly announced and\ndeclared might be adjudged illegal, unjust, and impious. And observe\nhow wisely our kings at that time perceived that certain rights ought\nto be allowed to the people, of which we shall have a good deal to say\nhereafter. Tullus did not even assume the ensigns of royalty without\nthe approbation of the people; and when he appointed twelve lictors,\nwith their axes to go before him[315] * * *\n\nXVIII. * * * [_Manilius_.] This Commonwealth of Rome, which you are so\neloquently describing, did not creep towards perfection; it rather flew\nat once to the maturity of its grandeur.\n\n[_Scipio._] After Tullus, Ancus Martius, a descendant of Numa by his\ndaughter, was appointed king by the people. He also procured the\npassing of a law[316] through the Comitia Curiata respecting his\ngovernment. This king having conquered the Latins, admitted them to the\nrights of citizens of Rome. He added to the city the Aventine and\nCaelian hills; he distributed the lands he had taken in war; he bestowed\non the public all the maritime forests he had acquired; and he built\nthe city Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber, and colonized it. When he\nhad thus reigned twenty-three years, he died.\n\nThen said Laelius: Doubtless this king deserves our praises, but the\nRoman history is obscure. We possess, indeed, the name of this\nmonarch's mother, but we know nothing of his father.\n\nIt is so, said Scipio; but in those ages little more than the names of\nthe kings were recorded.\n\nXIX. For the first time at this period, Rome appears to have become\nmore learned by the study of foreign literature; for it was no longer a\nlittle rivulet, flowing from Greece towards the walls of our city, but\nan overflowing river of Grecian sciences and arts. This is generally\nattributed to Demaratus, a Corinthian, the first man of his country in\nreputation, honor, and wealth; who, not being able to bear the\ndespotism of Cypselus, tyrant of Corinth, fled with large treasures,\nand arrived at Tarquinii, the most flourishing city in Etruria. There,\nunderstanding that the domination of Cypselus was thoroughly\nestablished, he, like a free and bold-hearted man, renounced his\ncountry, and was admitted into the number of the citizens of Tarquinii,\nand fixed his residence in that city. And having married a woman of the\ncity, he instructed his two sons, according to the method of Greek\neducation, in all kinds of sciences and arts.[317] * * *\n\nXX. * * * [One of these sons] was easily admitted to the rights of\ncitizenship at Rome; and on account of his accomplished manners and\nlearning, he became a favorite of our king Ancus to such a degree that\nhe was a partner in all his counsels, and was looked upon almost as his\nassociate in the government. He, besides, possessed wonderful\naffability, and was very kind in assistance, support, protection, and\neven gifts of money, to the citizens.\n\nWhen, therefore, Ancus died, the people by their unanimous suffrages\nchose for their king this Lucius Tarquinius (for he had thus\ntransformed the Greek name of his family, that he might seem in all\nrespects to imitate the customs of his adopted countrymen). And when\nhe, too, had procured the passing of a law respecting his authority, he\ncommenced his reign by doubling the original number of the senators.\nThe ancient senators he called patricians of the major families\n(_patres majorum gentium_), and he asked their votes first; and those\nnew senators whom he himself had added, he entitled patricians of minor\nfamilies. After this, he established the order of knights, on the plan\nwhich we maintain to this day. He would not, however, change the\ndenomination of the Tatian, Rhamnensian, and Lucerian orders, though he\nwished to do so, because Attus Naevius, an augur of the highest\nreputation, would not sanction it. And, indeed, I am aware that the\nCorinthians were remarkably attentive to provide for the maintenance\nand good condition of their cavalry by taxes levied on the inheritance\nof widows and orphans. To the first equestrian orders Lucius also added\nnew ones, composing a body of three hundred knights. And this number he\ndoubled, after having conquered the AEquicoli, a large and ferocious\npeople, and dangerous enemies of the Roman State. Having likewise\nrepulsed from our walls an invasion of the Sabines, he routed them by\nthe aid of his cavalry, and subdued them. He also was the first person\nwho instituted the grand games which are now called the Roman Games. He\nfulfilled his vow to build a temple to the all-good and all-powerful\nJupiter in the Capitol--a vow which he made during a battle in the\nSabine war--and died after a reign of thirty-eight years.\n\nXXI. Then Laelius said: All that you have been relating corroborates the\nsaying of Cato, that the constitution of the Roman Commonwealth is not\nthe work of one man, or one age; for we can clearly see what a great\nprogress in excellent and useful institutions was continued under each\nsuccessive king. But we are now arrived at the reign of a monarch who\nappears to me to have been of all our kings he who had the greatest\nforesight in matters of political government.\n\nSo it appears to me, said Scipio; for after Tarquinius Priscus comes\nServius Sulpicius, who was the first who is reported to have reigned\nwithout an order from the people. He is supposed to have been the son\nof a female slave at Tarquinii, by one of the soldiers or clients of\nKing Priscus; and as he was educated among the servants of this prince,\nand waiting on him at table, the king soon observed the fire of his\ngenius, which shone forth even from his childhood, so skilful was he in\nall his words and actions. Therefore, Tarquin, whose own children were\nthen very young, so loved Servius that he was very commonly believed to\nbe his own son, and he instructed him with the greatest care in all the\nsciences with which he was acquainted, according to the most exact\ndiscipline of the Greeks.\n\nBut when Tarquin had perished by the plots of the sons of Ancus, and\nServius (as I have said) had begun to reign, not by the order, but yet\nwith the good-will and consent, of the citizens--because, as it was\nfalsely reported that Priscus was recovering from his wounds, Servius,\narrayed in the royal robes, delivered judgment, freed the debtors at\nhis own expense, and, exhibiting the greatest affability, announced\nthat he delivered judgment at the command of Priscus--he did not commit\nhimself to the senate; but, after Priscus was buried, he consulted the\npeople respecting his authority, and, being authorized by them to\nassume the dominion, he procured a law to be passed through the Comitia\nCuriata, confirming his government.\n\nHe then, in the first place, avenged the injuries of the Etruscans by\narms. After which[318] * * *\n\nXXII. * * * he enrolled eighteen centuries of knights of the first\norder. Afterward, having created a great number of knights from the\ncommon mass of the people, he divided the rest of the people into five\nclasses, distinguishing between the seniors and the juniors. These he\nso constituted as to place the suffrages, not in the hands of the\nmultitude, but in the power of the men of property. And he took care to\nmake it a rule of ours, as it ought to be in every government, that the\ngreatest number should not have the greatest weight. You are well\nacquainted with this institution, otherwise I would explain it to you;\nbut you are familiar with the whole system, and know how the centuries\nof knights, with six suffrages, and the first class, comprising eighty\ncenturies, besides one other century which was allotted to the\nartificers, on account of their utility to the State, produce\neighty-nine centuries. If to these there are added twelve\ncenturies--for that is the number of the centuries of the knights which\nremain[319]--the entire force of the State is summed up; and the\narrangement is such that the remaining and far more numerous multitude,\nwhich is distributed through the ninety-six last centuries, is not\ndeprived of a right of suffrage, which would be an arrogant measure;\nnor, on the other hand, permitted to exert too great a preponderance in\nthe government, which would be dangerous.\n\nIn this arrangement, Servius was very cautious in his choice of terms\nand denominations. He called the rich _assidui_, because they afforded\npecuniary succor[320] to the State. As to those whoso fortune did not\nexceed 1500 pence, or those who had nothing but their labor, he called\nthem _proletarii_ classes, as if the State should expect from them a\nhardy progeny[321] and population.\n\nEven a single one of the ninety-six last centuries contained\nnumerically more citizens than the entire first class. Thus, no one was\nexcluded from his right of voting, yet the preponderance of votes was\nsecured to those who had the deepest stake in the welfare of the State.\nMoreover, with reference to the accensi, velati, trumpeters,\nhornblowers, proletarii[322] * * *\n\nXXIII. * * * That that republic is arranged in the best manner which,\nbeing composed in due proportions of those three elements, the\nmonarchical, the aristocratical, and the democratic, does not by\npunishment irritate a fierce and savage mind. * * * [A similar\ninstitution prevailed at Carthage], which was sixty-five years more\nancient than Rome, since it was founded thirty-nine years before the\nfirst Olympiad; and that most ancient law-giver Lycurgus made nearly\nthe same arrangements. Thus the system of regular subordination, and\nthis mixture of the three principal forms of government, appear to me\ncommon alike to us and them. But there is a peculiar advantage in our\nCommonwealth, than which nothing can be more excellent, which I shall\nendeavor to describe as accurately as possible, because it is of such a\ncharacter that nothing analogous can be discovered in ancient states;\nfor these political elements which I have noticed were so united in the\nconstitutions of Rome, of Sparta, and of Carthage, that they were not\ncounterbalanced by any modifying power. For in a state in which one man\nis invested with a perpetual domination, especially of the monarchical\ncharacter, although there be a senate in it, as there was in Rome under\nthe kings, and in Sparta, by the laws of Lycurgus, or even where the\npeople exercise a sort of jurisdiction, as they used in the days of our\nmonarchy, the title of king must still be pre-eminent; nor can such a\nstate avoid being, and being called, a kingdom. And this kind of\ngovernment is especially subject to frequent revolutions, because the\nfault of a single individual is sufficient to precipitate it into the\nmost pernicious disasters.\n\nIn itself, however, royalty is not only not a reprehensible form of\ngovernment, but I do not know whether it is not far preferable to all\nother simple constitutions, if I approved of any simple constitution\nwhatever. But this preference applies to royalty so long only as it\nmaintains its appropriate character; and this character provides that\none individual's perpetual power, and justice, and universal wisdom\nshould regulate the safety, equality, and tranquillity of the whole\npeople. But many privileges must be wanting to communities that live\nunder a king; and, in the first place, liberty, which does not consist\nin slavery to a just master, but in slavery to no master at all[323]\n* * *\n\nXXIV. * * * [Let us now pass on to the reign of the seventh and last\nking of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus.] And even this unjust and cruel\nmaster had good fortune for his companion for some time in all his\nenterprises. For he subdued all Latium; he captured Suessa Pometia, a\npowerful and wealthy city, and, becoming possessed of an immense spoil\nof gold and silver, he accomplished his father's vow by the building of\nthe Capitol. He established colonies, and, faithful to the institutions\nof those from whom he sprung, he sent magnificent presents, as tokens\nof gratitude for his victories, to Apollo at Delphi.\n\nXXV. Here begins the revolution of our political system of government,\nand I must beg your attention to its natural course and progression.\nFor the grand point of political science, the object of our discourses,\nis to know the march and the deviations of governments, that when we\nare acquainted with the particular courses and inclinations of\nconstitutions, we may be able to restrain them from their fatal\ntendencies, or to oppose adequate obstacles to their decline and fall.\n\nFor this Tarquinius Superbus, of whom I am speaking, being first of all\nstained with the blood of his admirable predecessor on the throne,\ncould not be a man of sound conscience and mind; and as he feared\nhimself the severest punishment for his enormous crime, he sought his\nprotection in making himself feared. Then, in the glory of his\nvictories and his treasures, he exulted in insolent pride, and could\nneither regulate his own manners nor the passions of the members of his\nfamily.\n\nWhen, therefore, his eldest son had offered violence to Lucretia,\ndaughter of Tricipitinus and wife of Collatinus, and this chaste and\nnoble lady had stabbed herself to death on account of the injury she\ncould not survive--then a man eminent for his genius and virtue, Lucius\nBrutus, dashed from his fellow-citizens this unjust yoke of odious\nservitude; and though he was but a private man, he sustained the\ngovernment of the entire Commonwealth, and was the first that taught\nthe people in this State that no one was a private man when the\npreservation of our liberties was concerned. Beneath his authority and\ncommand our city rose against tyranny, and, stirred by the recent grief\nof the father and relatives of Lucretia, and with the recollections of\nTarquin's haughtiness, and the numberless crimes of himself and his\nsons, they pronounced sentence of banishment against him and his\nchildren, and the whole race of the Tarquins.\n\nXXVI. Do you not observe, then, how the king sometimes degenerates into\nthe despot, and how, by the fault of one individual, a form of\ngovernment originally good is abused to the worst of purposes? Here is\na specimen of that despot over the people whom the Greeks denominate a\ntyrant. For, according to them, a king is he who, like a father,\nconsults the interests of his people, and who preserves those whom he\nis set over in the very best condition of life. This indeed is, as I\nhave said, an excellent form of government, yet still liable, and, as\nit were, inclined, to a pernicious abuse. For as soon as a king assumes\nan unjust and despotic power, he instantly becomes a tyrant, than which\nnothing baser or fouler, than which no imaginable animal can be more\ndetestable to gods or men; for though in form a man, he surpasses the\nmost savage monsters in ferocious cruelty. For who can justly call him\na human being, who admits not between himself and his\nfellow-countrymen, between himself and the whole human race, any\ncommunication of justice, any association of kindness? But we shall\nfind some fitter occasion of speaking of the evils of tyranny when the\nsubject itself prompts us to declare against them who, even in a state\nalready liberated, have affected these despotic insolencies.\n\nXXVII. Such is the first origin and rise of a tyrant. For this was the\nname by which the Greeks choose to designate an unjust king; and by the\ntitle king our Romans universally understand every man who exercises\nover the people a perpetual and undivided domination. Thus Spurius\nCassius, and Marcus Manlius, and Spurius Maelius, are said to have\nwished to seize upon the kingly power, and lately [Tiberius Gracchus\nincurred the same accusation].[324] * * *\n\nXXVIII. * * * [Lycurgus, in Sparta, formed, under the name of Elders,]\na small council consisting of twenty-eight members only; to these he\nallotted the supreme legislative authority, while the king held the\nsupreme executive authority. Our Romans, emulating his example, and\ntranslating his terms, entitled those whom he had called Elders,\nSenators, which, as we have said, was done by Romulus in reference to\nthe elect patricians. In this constitution, however, the power, the\ninfluence, and name of the king is still pre-eminent. You may\ndistribute, indeed, some show of power to the people, as Lycurgus and\nRomulus did, but you inflame them, with the thirst of liberty by\nallowing them even the slightest taste of its sweetness; and still\ntheir hearts will be overcast with alarm lest their king, as often\nhappens, should become unjust. The prosperity of the people, therefore,\ncan be little better than fragile, when placed at the disposal of any\none individual, and subjected to his will and caprices.\n\nXXIX. Thus the first example, prototype, and original of tyranny has\nbeen discovered by us in the history of our own Roman State,\nreligiously founded by Romulus, without applying to the theoretical\nCommonwealth which, according to Plato's recital, Socrates was\naccustomed to describe in his peripatetic dialogues. We have observed\nTarquin, not by the usurpation of any new power, but by the unjust\nabuse of the power which he already possessed, overturn the whole\nsystem of our monarchical constitution.\n\nLet us oppose to this example of the tyrant another, a virtuous\nking--wise, experienced, and well informed respecting the true interest\nand dignity of the citizens--a guardian, as it were, and superintendent\nof the Commonwealth; for that is a proper name for every ruler and\ngovernor of a state. And take you care to recognize such a man when you\nmeet him, for he is the man who, by counsel and exertion, can best\nprotect the nation. And as the name of this man has not yet been often\nmentioned in our discourse, and as the character of such a man must be\noften alluded to in our future conversations, [I shall take an early\nopportunity of describing it.][325] * * *\n\nXXX. * * * [Plato has chosen to suppose a territory and establishments\nof citizens, whose fortunes] were precisely equal. And he has given us\na description of a city, rather to be desired than expected; and he has\nmade out not such a one as can really exist, but one in which the\nprinciples of political affairs may be discerned. But for me, if I can\nin any way accomplish it, while I adopt the same general principles as\nPlato, I am seeking to reduce them to experience and practice, not in\nthe shadow and picture of a state, but in a real and actual\nCommonwealth, of unrivalled amplitude and power; in order to be able to\npoint out, with the most graphic precision, the causes of every\npolitical good and social evil.\n\nFor after Rome had flourished more than two hundred and forty years\nunder her kings and interreges, and after Tarquin was sent into\nbanishment, the Roman people conceived as much detestation of the name\nof king as they had once experienced regret at the death, or rather\ndisappearance, of Romulus. Therefore, as in the first instance they\ncould hardly bear the idea of losing a king, so in the latter, after\nthe expulsion of Tarquin, they could not endure to hear the name of a\nking.[326] * * *\n\nXXXI. * * * Therefore, when that admirable constitution of Romulus had\nlasted steadily about two hundred and forty years. * * * The whole of\nthat law was abolished. In this humor, our ancestors banished\nCollatinus, in spite of his innocence, because of the suspicion that\nattached to his family, and all the rest of the Tarquins, on account of\nthe unpopularity of their name. In the same humor, Valerius Publicola\nwas the first to lower the fasces before the people, when he spoke in\nthe assembly of the people. He also had the materials of his house\nconveyed to the foot of Mount Velia, having observed that the\ncommencement of his edifice on the summit of this hill, where King\nTullius had once dwelt, excited the suspicions of the people.\n\nIt was the same man, who in this respect pre-eminently deserved the\nname of Publicola, who carried in favor of the people the first law\nreceived in the Comitia Centuriata, that no magistrate should sentence\nto death or scourging a Roman citizen who appealed from his authority\nto the people. And the pontifical books attest that the right of appeal\nhad existed, even against the decision of the kings. Our augural books\naffirm the same thing. And the Twelve Tables prove, by a multitude of\nlaws, that there was a right of appeal from every judgment and penalty.\nBesides, the historical fact that the decemviri who compiled the laws\nwere created with the privilege of judging without appeal, sufficiently\nproves that the other magistrates had not the same power. And a\nconsular law, passed by Lucius Valerius Politus and Marcus Horatius\nBarbatus, men justly popular for promoting union and concord, enacted\nthat no magistrate should thenceforth be appointed with authority to\njudge without appeal; and the Portian laws, the work of three citizens\nof the name of Portius, as you are aware, added nothing new to this\nedict but a penal sanction.\n\nTherefore Publicola, having promulgated this law in favor of appeal to\nthe people, immediately ordered the axes to be removed from the fasces,\nwhich the lictors carried before the consuls, and the next day\nappointed Spurius Lucretius for his colleague. And as the new consul\nwas the oldest of the two, Publicola ordered his lictors to pass over\nto him; and he was the first to establish the rule, that each of the\nconsuls should be preceded by the lictors in alternate months, that\nthere should be no greater appearance of imperial insignia among the\nfree people than they had witnessed in the days of their kings. Thus,\nin my opinion, he proved himself no ordinary man, as, by so granting\nthe people a moderate degree of liberty, he more easily maintained the\nauthority of the nobles.\n\nNor is it without reason that I have related to you these ancient and\nalmost obsolete events; but I wished to adduce my instances of men and\ncircumstances from illustrious persons and times, as it is to such\nevents that the rest of my discourse will be directed.\n\nXXXII. At that period, then, the senate preserved the Commonwealth in\nsuch a condition that though the people were really free, yet few acts\nwere passed by the people, but almost all, on the contrary, by the\nauthority, customs, and traditions of the senate. And over all the\nconsuls exercised a power--in time, indeed, only annual, but in nature\nand prerogative completely royal.\n\nThe consuls maintained, with the greatest energy, that rule which so\nmuch conduces to the power of our nobles and great men, that the acts\nof the commons of the people shall not be binding, unless the authority\nof the patricians has approved them. About the same period, and\nscarcely ten years after the first consuls, we find the appointment of\nthe dictator in the person of Titus Lartius. And this new kind of\npower--namely, the dictatorship--appears exceedingly similar to the\nmonarchical royalty. All his power, however, was vested in the supreme\nauthority of the senate, to which the people deferred; and in these\ntimes great exploits were performed in war by brave men invested with\nthe supreme command, whether dictators or consuls.\n\nXXXIII. But as the nature of things necessarily brought it to pass that\nthe people, once freed from its kings, should arrogate to itself more\nand more authority, we observe that after a short interval of only\nsixteen years, in the consulship of Postumus Cominius and Spurius\nCassius, they attained their object; an event explicable, perhaps, on\nno distinct principle, but, nevertheless, in a manner independent of\nany distinct principle. For recollect what I said in commencing our\ndiscourse, that if there exists not in the State a just distribution\nand subordination of rights, offices, and prerogatives, so as to give\nsufficient domination to the chiefs, sufficient authority to the\ncounsel of the senators, and sufficient liberty to the people, this\nform of the government cannot be durable.\n\nFor when the excessive debts of the citizens had thrown the State into\ndisorder, the people first retired to Mount Sacer, and next occupied\nMount Aventine. And even the rigid discipline of Lycurgus could not\nmaintain those restraints in the case of the Greeks. For in Sparta\nitself, under the reign of Theopompus, the five magistrates whom they\nterm Ephori, and in Crete ten whom they entitle Cosmi, were established\nin opposition to the royal power, just as tribunes were added among us\nto counterbalance the consular authority.\n\nXXXIV. There might have been a method, indeed, by which our ancestors\ncould have been relieved from the pressure of debt, a method with which\nSolon the Athenian, who lived at no very distant period before, was\nacquainted, and which our senate did not neglect when, in the\nindignation which the odious avarice of one individual excited, all the\nbonds of the citizens were cancelled, and the right of arrest for a\nwhile suspended. In the same way, when the plebeians were oppressed by\nthe weight of the expenses occasioned by public misfortunes, a cure and\nremedy were sought for the sake of public security. The senate,\nhowever, having forgotten their former decision, gave an advantage to\nthe democracy; for, by the creation of two tribunes to appease the\nsedition of the people, the power and authority of the senate were\ndiminished; which, however, still remained dignified and august,\ninasmuch as it was still composed of the wisest and bravest men, who\nprotected their country both with their arms and with their counsels;\nwhose authority was exceedingly strong and flourishing, because in\nhonor they were as much before their fellow-citizens as they were\ninferior in luxuriousness, and, as a general rule, not superior to them\nin wealth. And their public virtues were the more agreeable to the\npeople, because even in private matters they were ready to serve every\ncitizen, by their exertions, their counsels, and their liberality.\n\nXXXV. Such was the situation of the Commonwealth when the quaestor\nimpeached Spurius Cassius of being so much emboldened by the excessive\nfavor of the people as to endeavor to make himself master of\nmonarchical power. And, as you have heard, his own father, having said\nthat he had found that his son was really guilty of this crime,\ncondemned him to death at the instance of the people. About fifty-four\nyears after the first consulate, Spurius Tarpeius and Aulus Aternius\nvery much gratified the people by proposing, in the Comitia Centuriata,\nthe substitution of fines instead of corporal punishments. Twenty years\nafterward, Lucius Papirius and Publius Pinarius, the censors, having by\na strict levy of fines confiscated to the State the entire flocks and\nherds of many private individuals, a light tax on the cattle was\nsubstituted for the law of fines in the consulship of Caius Julius and\nPublius Papirius.\n\nXXXVI. But, some years previous to this, at a period when the senate\npossessed the supreme influence, and the people were submissive and\nobedient, a new system was adopted. At that time both the consuls and\ntribunes of the people abdicated their magistracies, and the decemviri\nwere appointed, who were invested with great authority, from which\nthere was no appeal whatever, so as to exercise the chief domination,\nand to compile the laws. After having composed, with much wisdom and\nequity, the Ten Tables of laws, they nominated as their successors in\nthe ensuing year other decemviri, whose good faith and justice do not\ndeserve equal praise. One member of this college, however, merits our\nhighest commendation. I allude to Caius Julius, who declared respecting\nthe nobleman Lucius Sestius, in whose chamber a dead body had been\nexhumed under his own eyes, that though as decemvir he held the highest\npower without appeal, he still required bail, because he was unwilling\nto neglect that admirable law which permitted no court but the Comitia\nCenturiata to pronounce final sentence on the life of a Roman citizen.\n\nXXXVII. A third year followed under the authority of the same\ndecemvirs, and still they were not disposed to appoint their\nsuccessors. In a situation of the Commonwealth like this, which, as I\nhave often repeated, could not be durable, because it had not an equal\noperation with respect to all the ranks of the citizens, the whole\npublic power was lodged in the hands of the chiefs and decemvirs of the\nhighest nobility, without the counterbalancing authority of the\ntribunes of the people, without the sanction of any other magistracies,\nand without appeal to the people in the case of a sentence of death or\nscourging.\n\nThus, out of the injustice of these men, there was suddenly produced a\ngreat revolution, which changed the entire condition of the government,\nor they added two tables of very tyrannical laws, and though\nmatrimonial alliances had always been permitted, even with foreigners,\nthey forbade, by the most abominable and inhuman edict, that any\nmarriages should take place between the nobles and the commons--an\norder which was afterward abrogated by the decree of Canuleius.\nBesides, they introduced into all their political measures corruption,\ncruelty, and avarice. And indeed the story is well known, and\ncelebrated in many literary compositions, that a certain Decimus\nVirginius was obliged, on account of the libidinous violence of one of\nthese decemvirs, to stab his virgin daughter in the midst of the forum.\nThen, when he in his desperation had fled to the Roman army which was\nencamped on Mount Algidum, the soldiers abandoned the war in which they\nwere engaged, and took possession of the Sacred Mount, as they had done\nbefore on a similar occasion, and next invested Mount Aventine in their\narms.[327] Our ancestors knew how to prove most thoroughly, and to\nretain most wisely. * * *\n\nXXXVIII. And when Scipio had spoken in this manner, and all his friends\nwere awaiting in silence the rest of his discourse, then said Tubero:\nSince these men who are older than I, my Scipio, make no fresh demands\non you, I shall take the liberty to tell you what I particularly wish\nyou would explain in your subsequent remarks.\n\nDo so, said Scipio, and I shall be glad to hear.\n\nThen Tubero said: You appear to me to have spoken a panegyric on our\nCommonwealth of Rome exclusively, though Laelius requested your views\nnot only of the government of our own State, but of the policy of\nstates in general. I have not, therefore, yet sufficiently learned from\nyour discourse, with respect to that mixed form of government you most\napprove, by what discipline, moral and legal, we may be best able to\nestablish and maintain it.\n\nXXXIX. Africanus replied: I think that we shall soon find an occasion\nbetter adapted to the discussion you have proposed, respecting the\nconstitution and conservatism of states. As to the best form of\ngovernment, I think on this point I have sufficiently answered the\nquestion of Laelius. For in answering him, I, in the first place,\nspecifically noticed the three simple forms of government--monarchy,\naristocracy, and democracy; and the three vicious constitutions\ncontrary to them, into which they often degenerate; and I said that\nnone of these forms, taken separately, was absolutely good; but I\ndescribed as preferable to either of them that mixed government which\nis composed of a proper amalgamation of these simple ingredients. If I\nhave since depicted our own Roman constitution as an example, it was\nnot in order to define the very best form of government, for that may\nbe understood without an example; but I wished, in the exhibition of a\nmighty commonwealth actually in existence, to render distinct and\nvisible what reason and discourse would vainly attempt to display\nwithout the assistance of experimental illustration. Yet, if you still\nrequire me to describe the best form of government, independent of all\nparticular examples, we must consult that exactly proportioned and\ngraduated image of government which nature herself presents to her\ninvestigators. Since you * * * this model of a city and people[328]\n* * *\n\nXL. * * * which I also am searching for, and which I am anxious to\narrive at.\n\n_Laelius._ You mean the model that would be approved by the truly\naccomplished politician?\n\n_Scipio._ The same.\n\n_Laelius._ You have plenty of fair patterns even now before you, if you\nwould but begin with yourself.\n\nThen Scipio said: I wish I could find even one such, even in the entire\nsenate. For he is really a wise politician who, as we have often seen\nin Africa, while seated on a huge and unsightly elephant, can guide and\nrule the monster, and turn him whichever way he likes by a slight\nadmonition, without any actual exertion.\n\n_Laelius._ I recollect, and when I was your lieutenant I often saw, one\nof these drivers.\n\n_Scipio._ Thus an Indian or Carthaginian regulates one of these huge\nanimals, and renders him docile and familiar with human manners. But\nthe genius which resides in the mind of man, by whatever name it may be\ncalled, is required to rein and tame a monster far more multiform and\nintractable, whenever it can accomplish it, which indeed is seldom. It\nis necessary to hold in with a strong hand that ferocious[329] * * *\n\nXLI. * * * [beast, denominated the mob, which thirsts after blood] to\nsuch a degree that it can scarcely be sated with the most hideous\nmassacres of men. * * *\n\n     But to a man who is greedy, and grasping, and lustful, and\n     fond of wallowing in voluptuousness.\n\n     The fourth kind of anxiety is that which is prone to mourning\n     and melancholy, and which is constantly worrying itself.\n\n          [_The next paragraph, \"Esse autem angores,\" etc.,\n          is wholly unintelligible without the context._]\n\n     As an unskilful charioteer is dragged from his chariot,\n     covered with dirt, bruised, and lacerated.\n\n     The excitements of men's minds are like a chariot, with\n     horses harnessed to it; in the proper management of which,\n     the chief duty of the driver consists in knowing his road:\n     and if he keeps the road, then, however rapidly he proceeds,\n     he will encounter no obstacles; but if he quits the proper\n     track, then, although he may be going gently and slowly, he\n     will either be perplexed on rugged ground, or fall over some\n     steep place, or at least he will be carried where he has no\n     need to go.[330]\n\nXLII. * * * can be said.\n\nThen Laelius said: I now see the sort of politician you require, on whom\nyou would impose the office and task of government, which is what I\nwished to understand.\n\nHe must be an almost unique specimen, said Africanus, for the task\nwhich I set him comprises all others. He must never cease from\ncultivating and studying himself, that he may excite others to imitate\nhim, and become, through the splendor of his talents and enterprises, a\nliving mirror to his countrymen. For as in flutes and harps, and in all\nvocal performances, a certain unison and harmony must be preserved\namidst the distinctive tones, which cannot be broken or violated\nwithout offending experienced ears; and as this concord and delicious\nharmony is produced by the exact gradation and modulation of dissimilar\nnotes; even so, by means of the just apportionment of the highest,\nmiddle, and lower classes, the State is maintained in concord and peace\nby the harmonic subordination of its discordant elements: and thus,\nthat which is by musicians called harmony in song answers and\ncorresponds to what we call concord in the State--concord, the\nstrongest and loveliest bond of security in every commonwealth, being\nalways accompanied by justice and equity.\n\n     XLIII. And after this, when Scipio had discussed with\n     considerable breadth of principle and felicity of\n     illustration the great advantage that justice is to a state,\n     and the great injury which would arise if it were wanting,\n     Pilus, one of those who were present at the discussion, took\n     up the matter and demanded that this question should be\n     argued more carefully, and that something more should be said\n     about justice, on account of a sentiment that was now\n     obtaining among people in general, that political affairs\n     could not be wholly carried on without some disregard of\n     justice.\n\nXLIV. * * * to be full of justice.\n\nThen Scipio replied: I certainly think so. And I declare to you that I\nconsider that all I have spoken respecting the government of the State\nis worth nothing, and that it will be useless to proceed further,\nunless I can prove that it is a false assertion that political business\ncannot be conducted without injustice and corruption; and, on the other\nhand, establish as a most indisputable fact that without the strictest\njustice no government whatever can last long.\n\nBut, with your permission, we have had discussion enough for the day.\nThe rest--and much remains for our consideration--we will defer till\nto-morrow. When they had all agreed to this, the debate of the day was\nclosed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD BOOK,\n\nBY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR.\n\n\n   Cicero here enters on the grand question of Political Justice,\n     and endeavors to evince throughout the absolute verity of\n     that inestimable proverb, \"Honesty is the best policy,\" in\n     all public as well as in all private affairs. St. Augustine,\n     in his City of God, has given the following analysis of this\n     magnificent disquisition:\n\n   \"In the third book of Cicero's Commonwealth\" (says he) \"the\n     question of Political Justice is most earnestly discussed.\n     Philus is appointed to support, as well as he can, the\n     sophistical arguments of those who think that political\n     government cannot be carried on without the aid of injustice\n     and chicanery. He denies holding any such opinion himself;\n     yet, in order to exhibit the truth more vividly through the\n     force of contrast, he pleads with the utmost ingenuity the\n     cause of injustice against justice; and endeavors to show, by\n     plausible examples and specious dialectics, that injustice is\n     as useful to a statesman as justice would be injurious. Then\n     Laelius, at the general request, takes up the plea for\n     justice, and maintains with all his eloquence that nothing\n     could be so ruinous to states as injustice and dishonesty,\n     and that without a supreme justice, no political government\n     could expect a long duration. This point being sufficiently\n     proved, Scipio returns to the principal discussion. He\n     reproduces and enforces the short definition that he had\n     given of a commonwealth--that it consisted in the welfare of\n     the entire people, by which word 'people' he does not mean\n     the mob, but the community, bound together by the sense of\n     common rights and mutual benefits. He notices how important\n     such just definitions are in all debates whatever, and draws\n     this conclusion from the preceding arguments--that the\n     Commonwealth is the common welfare whenever it is swayed with\n     justice and wisdom, whether it be subordinated to a king, an\n     aristocracy, or a democracy. But if the king be unjust, and\n     so becomes a tyrant; and the aristocracy unjust, which makes\n     them a faction; or the democrats unjust, and so degenerate\n     into revolutionists and destructives--then not only the\n     Commonwealth is corrupted, but in fact annihilated. For it\n     can be no longer the common welfare when a tyrant or a\n     faction abuse it; and the people itself is no longer the\n     people when it becomes unjust, since it is no longer a\n     community associated by a sense of right and utility,\n     according to the definition.\"--_Aug. Civ. Dei._ 3-21.\n\n   This book is of the utmost importance to statesmen, as it\n     serves to neutralize the sophistries of Machiavelli, which\n     are still repeated in many cabinets.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n\nI. * * *[331] Cicero, in the third book of his treatise On a\nCommonwealth, says that nature has treated man less like a mother than\na step-dame, for she has cast him into mortal life with a body naked,\nfragile, and infirm, and with a mind agitated by troubles, depressed by\nfears, broken by labors, and exposed to passions. In this mind,\nhowever, there lies hidden, and, as it were, buried, a certain divine\nspark of genius and intellect.\n\nThough man is born a frail and powerless being, nevertheless he is safe\nfrom all animals destitute of voice; and at the same time those other\nanimals of greater strength, although they bravely endure the violence\nof weather, cannot be safe from man. And the result is, that reason\ndoes more for man than nature does for brutes; since, in the latter,\nneither the greatness of their strength nor the firmness of their\nbodies can save them from being oppressed by us, and made subject to\nour power. * * *\n\nPlato returned thanks to nature that he had been born a man.\n\nII. * * * aiding our slowness by carriages, and when it had taught men\nto utter the elementary and confused sounds of unpolished expression,\narticulated and distinguished them into their proper classes, and, as\ntheir appropriate signs, attached certain words to certain things, and\nthus associated, by the most delightful bond of speech, the once\ndivided races of men.\n\nAnd by a similar intelligence, the inflections of the voice, which\nappeared infinite, are, by the discovery of a few alphabetic\ncharacters, all designated and expressed; by which we maintain converse\nwith our absent friends, by which also indications of our wishes and\nmonuments of past events are preserved. Then came the use of numbers--a\nthing necessary to human life, and at the same time immutable and\neternal; a science which first urged us to raise our views to heaven,\nand not gaze without an object on the motions of the stars, and the\ndistribution of days and nights.\n\nIII. * * *[332] [Then appeared the sages of philosophy], whose minds\ntook a higher flight, and who were able to conceive and to execute\ndesigns worthy of the gifts of the Gods. Wherefore let those men who\nhave left us sublime essays on the principles of living be regarded as\ngreat men--which indeed they are--as learned men, as masters of truth\nand virtue; provided that these principles of civil government, this\nsystem of governing people, whether it be a thing discovered by men who\nhave lived amidst a variety of political events, or one discussed\namidst their opportunities of literary tranquillity, is remembered to\nbe, as indeed it is, a thing by no means to be despised, being one\nwhich causes in first-rate minds, as we not unfrequently see, an\nincredible and almost divine virtue. And when to these high faculties\nof soul, received from nature and expanded by social institutions, a\npolitician adds learning and extensive information concerning things in\ngeneral, like those illustrious personages who conduct the dialogue in\nthe present treatise, none will refuse to confess the superiority of\nsuch persons to all others; for, in fact, what can be more admirable\nthan the study and practice of the grand affairs of state, united to a\nliterary taste and a familiarity with the liberal arts? or what can we\nimagine more perfect than a Scipio, a Laelius, or a Philus, who, not to\nomit anything which belonged to the most perfect excellence of the\ngreatest men, joined to the examples of our ancestors and the\ntraditions of our countrymen the foreign philosophy of Socrates?\n\nWherefore he who had both the desire and the power to acquaint himself\nthoroughly both with the customs and the learning of his ancestors\nappears to me to have attained to the very highest glory and honor. But\nif we cannot combine both, and are compelled to select one of these two\npaths to wisdom--though to some people the tranquil life spent in the\nresearch of literature and arts may appear to be the most happy and\ndelectable--yet, doubtless, the science of politics is more laudable\nand illustrious, for in this political field of exertion our greatest\nmen have reaped their honors, like the invincible Curius,\n\n    Whom neither gold nor iron could subdue.\n\nIV. * * *[333] that wisdom existed still. There existed this general\ndifference between these two classes, that among the one the\ndevelopment of the principles of nature is the subject of their study\nand eloquence, and among the other national laws and institutions form\nthe principal topics of investigation.\n\nIn honor of our country, we may assert that she has produced within\nherself a great number, I will not say of sages (since philosophy is so\njealous of this name), but of men worthy of the highest celebrity,\nbecause by them the precepts and discoveries of the sages have been\ncarried out into actual practice. And, moreover, though there have\nexisted, and still do exist, many great and glorious empires, yet since\nthe noblest masterpiece of genius in the world is the establishment of\na state and commonwealth which shall be a lasting one, even if we\nreckon but a single legislator for each empire, the number of these\nexcellent men will appear very numerous. To be convinced of this, we\nhave only to turn our eyes on any nation of Italy, Latium, the Sabines,\nthe Volscians, the Samnites, or the Etrurians, and then direct our\nattention to that mighty nation of the Greeks, and then to the\nAssyrians, Persians, and Carthaginians, and[334] * * *\n\nV. * * * [Scipio and his friends having again assembled, Scipio spoke\nas follows: In our last conversation, I promised to prove that honesty\nis the best policy in all states and commonwealths whatsoever. But if I\nam to plead in favor of strict honesty and justice in all public\naffairs, no less than in private, I must request Philus, or some one\nelse, to take up the advocacy of the other side; the truth will then\nbecome more manifest, from the collision of opposite arguments, as we\nsee every day exemplified at the Bar.]\n\nAnd Philus replied: In good truth, you have allotted me a very\ncreditable cause when you wish me to undertake the defence of vice.\n\nPerhaps, said Laelius, you are afraid, lest, in reproducing the ordinary\nobjections made to justice in politics, you should seem to express your\nown sentiments; though you are universally respected as an almost\nunique example of the ancient probity and good faith; nor is it unknown\nhow familiar you are with the lawyer-like habit of disputing on both\nsides of a question, because you think that this is the best way of\ngetting at the truth.\n\nAnd Philus said: Very well; I obey you, and wilfully, with my eyes\nopen, I will undertake this dirty business; because, since those who\nseek for gold do not flinch at the sight of the mud, so we who are\nsearching for justice, which is far more precious than gold, are bound\nto shrink from no annoyance. And I wish, as I am about to make use of\nthe antagonist arguments of a foreigner, I might also employ a foreign\nlanguage. The pleas, therefore, now to be urged by Lucius Furius Philus\nare those [once employed by] the Greek Carneades, a man who was\naccustomed to express whatever [served his turn].[335] * * *[336]Let it\nbe understood, therefore, that I by no means express my own sentiments,\nbut those of Carneades, in order that you may refute this philosopher,\nwho was wont to turn the best causes into joke, through the mere\nwantonness of wit.\n\n     VI. He was a philosopher of the Academic School; and if any\n     one is ignorant of his great power, and eloquence, and\n     acuteness in arguing, he may learn it from the mention made\n     of him by Cicero or by Lucilius, when Neptune, discoursing on\n     a very difficult subject, declares that it cannot be\n     explained, not even if hell were to restore Carneades himself\n     for the purpose. This philosopher, having been sent by the\n     Athenians to Rome as an ambassador, discussed the subject of\n     justice very amply in the hearing of Galba and Cato the\n     Censor, who were the greatest orators of the day. And the\n     next day he overturned all his arguments by others of a\n     contrary tendency, and disparaged justice, which the day\n     before he had extolled; speaking not indeed with the gravity\n     of a philosopher whose wisdom ought to be steady, and whose\n     opinions unchangeable, but in a kind of rhetorical exercise\n     of arguing on each side--a practice which he was accustomed\n     to adopt, in order to be able to refute others who were\n     asserting anything. The arguments by which he disparaged\n     justice are mentioned by Lucius Furius in Cicero; I suppose,\n     since he was discussing the Commonwealth, in order to\n     introduce a defence and panegyric of that quality without\n     which he did not think a commonwealth could be administered.\n     But Carneades, in order to refute Aristotle and Plato, the\n     advocates of justice, collected in his first argument\n     everything that was in the habit of being advanced on behalf\n     of justice, in order afterward to be able to overturn it, as\n     he did.\n\n     VII. Many philosophers indeed, and especially Plato and\n     Aristotle, have spoken a great deal of justice, inculcating\n     that virtue, and extolling it with the highest praise, as\n     giving to every one what belongs to him, as preserving equity\n     in all things, and urging that while the other virtues are,\n     as it were, silent and shut up, justice is the only one which\n     is not absorbed in considerations of self-interest, and which\n     is not secret, but finds its whole field for exercise\n     out-of-doors, and is desirous of doing good and serving as\n     many people as possible; as if, forsooth, justice ought to\n     exist in judges only, and in men invested with a certain\n     authority, and not in every one! But there is no one, not\n     even a man of the lowest class, or a beggar, who is destitute\n     of opportunities of displaying justice. But because these\n     philosophers knew not what its essence was, or whence it\n     proceeded, or what its employment was, they attributed that\n     first of all virtues, which is the common good of all men, to\n     a few only, and asserted that it aimed at no advantage of its\n     own, but was anxious only for that of others. So it was well\n     that Carneades, a man of the greatest genius and acuteness,\n     refuted their assertions, and overthrew that justice which\n     had no firm foundation; not because he thought justice itself\n     deserving of blame, but in order to show that those its\n     defenders had brought forward no trustworthy or strong\n     arguments in its behalf.\n\n     Justice looks out-of-doors, and is prominent and conspicuous\n     in its whole essence.\n\n     Which virtue, beyond all others, wholly devotes and dedicates\n     itself to the advantage of others.\n\nVIII. * * * Both to discover and maintain. While the other, Aristotle,\nhas filled four large volumes with a discussion on abstract justice.\nFor I did not expect anything grand or magnificent from Chrysippus,\nwho, after his usual fashion, examines everything rather by the\nsignification of words than the reality of things. But it was surely\nworthy of those heroes of philosophy to ennoble by their genius a\nvirtue so eminently beneficent and liberal, which everywhere exalts the\nsocial interests above the selfish, and teaches us to love others\nrather than ourselves. It was worthy of their genius, we say, to\nelevate this virtue to a divine throne, not far from that of Wisdom.\nAnd certainly they neither wanted the will to accomplish this (for what\nelse could be the cause of their writing on the subject, or what could\nhave been their design?) nor the genius, in which they excelled all\nmen. But the weakness of their cause was too great for either their\nintention or their eloquence to make it popular. In fact, this justice\non which we reason is a civil right, but no natural one; for if it were\nnatural and universal, then justice and injustice would be recognized\nsimilarly by all men, just as the heat and cold, sweetness and\nbitterness.\n\nIX. Now, if any one, carried in that chariot of winged serpents of\nwhich the poet Pacuvius makes mention, could take his flight over all\nnations and cities, and accurately observe their proceedings, he would\nsee that the sense of justice and right varies in different regions. In\nthe first place, he would behold among the unchangeable people of\nEgypt, which preserves in its archives the memory of so many ages and\nevents, a bull adored as a Deity, under the name of Apis, and a\nmultitude of other monsters, and all kinds of animals admitted by the\nsame nation into the number of the Gods.\n\nIn the next place, he would see in Greece, as among ourselves,\nmagnificent temples consecrated by images in human form, which the\nPersians regarded as impious; and it is affirmed that the sole motive\nof Xerxes for commanding the conflagration of the Athenian temples was\nthe belief that it was a superstitious sacrilege to keep confined\nwithin narrow walls the Gods, whose proper home was the entire\nuniverse. But afterward Philip, in his hostile projects against the\nPersians, and Alexander, who carried them into execution, alleged this\nplea for war, that they were desirous to avenge the temples of Greece,\nwhich the Greeks had thought proper never to rebuild, that this\nmonument of the impiety of the Persians might always remain before the\neyes of their posterity.\n\nHow many--such as the inhabitants of Taurica along the Euxine Sea; as\nthe King of Egypt, Busiris; as the Gauls and the Carthaginians--have\nthought it exceedingly pious and agreeable to the Gods to sacrifice\nmen! And, besides, the customs of life are so various that the Cretans\nand AEtolians regard robbery as honorable. And the Lacedaemonians say\nthat their territory extends to all places which they can touch with a\nlance. The Athenians had a custom of swearing, by a public\nproclamation, that all the lands which produced olives and corn were\ntheir own. The Gauls consider it a base employment to raise corn by\nagricultural labor, and go with arms in their hands, and mow down the\nharvests of neighboring peoples. But we ourselves, the most equitable\nof all nations, who, in order to raise the value of our vines and\nolives, do not permit the races beyond the Alps to cultivate either\nvineyards or oliveyards, are said in this matter to act with prudence,\nbut not with justice. You see, then, that wisdom and policy are not\nalways the same as equity. And Lycurgus, that famous inventor of a most\nadmirable jurisprudence and most wholesome laws, gave the lands of the\nrich to be cultivated by the common people, who were reduced to\nslavery.\n\nX. If I were to describe the diverse kinds of laws, institutions,\nmanners, and customs, not only as they vary in the numerous nations,\nbut as they vary likewise in single cities--in this one of ours, for\nexample--I could prove that they have had a thousand revolutions. For\ninstance, that eminent expositor of our laws who sits in the present\ncompany--I mean Manilius--if you were to consult him relative to the\nlegacies and inheritances of women, he would tell you that the present\nlaw is quite different from that he was accustomed to plead in his\nyouth, before the Voconian enactment came into force--an edict which\nwas passed in favor of the interests of the men, but which is evidently\nfull of injustice with regard to women. For why should a woman be\ndisabled from inheriting property? Why can a vestal virgin become an\nheir, while her mother cannot? And why, admitting that it is necessary\nto set some limit to the wealth of women, should Crassus's daughter, if\nshe be his only child, inherit thousands without offending the law,\nwhile my daughter can only receive a small share in a bequest.[337]\n* * *\n\nXI. * * * [If this justice were natural, innate, and universal, all men\nwould admit the same] law and right, and the same men would not enact\ndifferent laws at different times. If a just man and a virtuous man is\nbound to obey the laws, I ask, what laws do you mean? Do you intend all\nthe laws indifferently? But neither does virtue permit this inconstancy\nin moral obligation, nor is such a variation compatible with natural\nconscience. The laws are, therefore, based not on our sense of justice,\nbut on our fear of punishment. There is, therefore, no natural justice;\nand hence it follows that men cannot be just by nature.\n\nAre men, then, to say that variations indeed do exist in the laws, but\nthat men who are virtuous through natural conscience follow that which\nis really justice, and not a mere semblance and disguise, and that it\nis the distinguishing characteristic of the truly just and virtuous man\nto render every one his due rights? Are we, then, to attribute the\nfirst of these characteristics to animals? For not only men of moderate\nabilities, but even first-rate sages and philosophers, as Pythagoras\nand Empedocles, declare that all kinds of living creatures have a right\nto the same justice. They declare that inexpiable penalties impend over\nthose who have done violence to any animal whatsoever. It is,\ntherefore, a crime to injure an animal, and the perpetrator of such\ncrime[338] * * *\n\n     XII. For when he[339] inquired of a pirate by what right he\n     dared to infest the sea with his little brigantine: \"By the\n     same right,\" he replied, \"which is your warrant for\n     conquering the world.\" * * *\n\nWisdom and prudence instruct us by all means to increase our power,\nriches, and estates. For by what means could this same Alexander, that\nillustrious general, who extended his empire over all Asia, without\nviolating the property of other men, have acquired such universal\ndominion, enjoyed so many pleasures, such great power, and reigned\nwithout bound or limit?\n\nBut justice commands us to have mercy upon all men, to consult the\ninterests of the whole human race, to give to every one his due, and\ninjure no sacred, public, or foreign rights, and to forbear touching\nwhat does not belong to us. What is the result, then? If you obey the\ndictates of wisdom, then wealth, power, riches, honors, provinces, and\nkingdoms, from all classes, peoples, and nations, are to be aimed at.\n\nHowever, as we are discussing public matters, those examples are more\nillustrious which refer to what is done publicly. And since the\nquestion between justice and policy applies equally to private and\npublic affairs, I think it well to speak of the wisdom of the people. I\nwill not, however, mention other nations, but come at once to our own\nRoman people, whom Africanus, in his discourse yesterday, traced from\nthe cradle, and whose empire now embraces the whole world. Justice\nis[340] * * *\n\n     XIII. How far utility is at variance with justice we may\n     learn from the Roman people itself, which, declaring war by\n     means of the fecials, and committing injustice with all legal\n     formality, always coveting and laying violent hands on the\n     property of others, acquired the possession of the whole\n     world.\n\n     What is the advantage of one's own country but the\n     disadvantage of another state or nation, by extending one's\n     dominions by territories evidently wrested from others,\n     increasing one's power, improving one's revenues, etc.?\n     Therefore, whoever has obtained these advantages for his\n     country--that is to say, whoever has overthrown cities,\n     subdued nations, and by these means filled the treasury with\n     money, taken lands, and enriched his fellow-citizens--such a\n     man is extolled to the skies; is believed to be endowed with\n     consummate and perfect virtue; and this mistake is fallen\n     into not only by the populace and the ignorant, but by\n     philosophers, who even give rules for injustice.\n\nXIV. * * * For all those who have the right of life and death over the\npeople are in fact tyrants; but they prefer being called by the title\nof king, which belongs to the all-good Jupiter. But when certain men,\nby favor of wealth, birth, or any other means, get possession of the\nentire government, it is a faction; but they choose to denominate\nthemselves an aristocracy. If the people gets the upper hand, and rules\neverything after its capricious will, they call it liberty, but it is\nin fact license. And when every man is a guard upon his neighbor, and\nevery class is a guard upon every other class, then because no one\ntrusts in his own strength, a kind of compact is formed between the\ngreat and the little, from whence arises that mixed kind of government\nwhich Scipio has been commending. Thus justice, according to these\nfacts, is not the daughter of nature or conscience, but of human\nimbecility. For when it becomes necessary to choose between these three\npredicaments, either to do wrong without retribution, or to do wrong\nwith retribution, or to do no wrong at all, it is best to do wrong with\nimpunity; next, neither to do wrong nor to suffer for it; but nothing\nis more wretched than to struggle incessantly between the wrong we\ninflict and that we receive. Therefore, he who attains to that first\nend[341] * * *\n\n     XV. This was the sum of the argument of Carneades: that men\n     had established laws among themselves from considerations of\n     advantage, varying them according to their different customs,\n     and altering them often so as to adapt them to the times; but\n     that there was no such thing as natural law; that all men and\n     all other animals are led to their own advantage by the\n     guidance of nature; that there is no such thing as justice,\n     or, if there be, that it is extreme folly, since a man would\n     injure himself while consulting the interests of others. And\n     he added these arguments, that all nations who were\n     flourishing and dominant, and even the Romans themselves, who\n     were the masters of the whole world, if they wished to be\n     just--that is to say, if they restored all that belonged to\n     others--would have to return to their cottages, and to lie\n     down in want and misery.\n\nExcept, perhaps, of the Arcadians and Athenians, who, I presume,\ndreading that this great act of retribution might one day arrive,\npretend that they were sprung from the earth, like so many field-mice.\n\nXVI. In reply to these statements, the following arguments are often\nadduced by those who are not unskilful in discussions, and who, in this\nquestion, have all the greater weight of authority, because, when we\ninquire, Who is a good man?--understanding by that term a frank and\nsingle-minded man--we have little need of captious casuists, quibblers,\nand slanderers. For those men assert that the wise man does not seek\nvirtue because of the personal gratification which the practice of\njustice and beneficence procures him, but rather because the life of\nthe good man is free from fear, care, solicitude, and peril; while, on\nthe other hand, the wicked always feel in their souls a certain\nsuspicion, and always behold before their eyes images of judgment and\npunishment. Do not you think, therefore, that there is any benefit, or\nthat there is any advantage which can be procured by injustice,\nprecious enough to counterbalance the constant pressure of remorse, and\nthe haunting consciousness that retribution awaits the sinner, and\nhangs over his devoted head.[342] * * *\n\nXVII. [Our philosophers, therefore, put a case. Suppose, say they, two\nmen, one of whom is an excellent and admirable person, of high honor\nand remarkable integrity; the latter is distinguished by nothing but\nhis vice and audacity. And suppose that their city has so mistaken\ntheir characters as to imagine the good man to be a scandalous,\nimpious, and audacious criminal, and to esteem the wicked man, on the\ncontrary, as a pattern of probity and fidelity. On account of this\nerror of their fellow-citizens, the good man is arrested and tormented,\nhis hands are cut off, his eyes are plucked out, he is condemned,\nbound, burned, exterminated, reduced to want, and to the last appears\nto all men to be most deservedly the most miserable of men. On the\nother hand, the flagitious wretch is exalted, worshipped, loved by all,\nand honors, offices, riches, and emoluments are all conferred on him,\nand he shall be reckoned by his fellow-citizens the best and worthiest\nof mortals, and in the highest degree deserving of all manner of\nprosperity. Yet, for all this, who is so mad as to doubt which of these\ntwo men he would rather be?\n\nXVIII. What happens among individuals happens also among nations. There\nis no state so absurd and ridiculous as not to prefer unjust dominion\nto just subordination. I need not go far for examples. During my own\nconsulship, when you were my fellow-counsellors, we consulted\nrespecting the treaty of Numantia. No one was ignorant that Quintus\nPompey had signed a treaty, and that Mancinus had done the same. The\nlatter, being a virtuous man, supported the proposition which I laid\nbefore the people, after the decree of the senate. The former, on the\nother side, opposed it vehemently. If modesty, probity, or faith had\nbeen regarded, Mancinus would have carried his point; but in reason,\ncounsel, and prudence, Pompey surpassed him. Whether[343] * * *\n\nXIX. If a man should have a faithless slave, or an unwholesome house,\nwith whose defect he alone was acquainted, and he advertised them for\nsale, would he state the fact that his servant was infected with\nknavery, and his house with malaria, or would he conceal these\nobjections from the buyer? If he stated those facts, he would be\nhonest, no doubt, because he would deceive nobody; but still he would\nbe thought a fool, because he would either get very little for his\nproperty, or else fail to sell it at all. By concealing these defects,\non the other hand, he will be called a shrewd man--as one who has taken\ncare of his own interest; but he will be a rogue, notwithstanding,\nbecause he will be deceiving his neighbors. Again, let us suppose that\none man meets another, who sells gold and silver, conceiving them to be\ncopper or lead; shall he hold his peace that he may make a capital\nbargain, or correct the mistake, and purchase at a fair rate? He would\nevidently be a fool in the world's opinion if he preferred the latter.\n\nXX. It is justice, beyond all question, neither to commit murder nor\nrobbery. What, then, would your just man do, if, in a case of\nshipwreck, he saw a weaker man than himself get possession of a plank?\nWould he not thrust him off, get hold of the timber himself, and escape\nby his exertions, especially as no human witness could be present in\nthe mid-sea? If he acted like a wise man of the world, he would\ncertainly do so, for to act in any other way would cost him his life.\nIf, on the other hand, he prefers death to inflicting unjustifiable\ninjury on his neighbor, he will be an eminently honorable and just man,\nbut not the less a fool, because he saved another's life at the expense\nof his own. Again, if in case of a defeat and rout, when the enemy were\npressing in the rear, this just man should find a wounded comrade\nmounted on a horse, shall he respect his right at the risk of being\nkilled himself, or shall he fling him from the horse in order to\npreserve his own life from the pursuers? If he does so, he is a wise\nman, but at the same time a wicked one; if he does not, he is admirably\njust, but at the same time stupid.\n\nXXI. _Scipio._ I might reply at great length to these sophistical\nobjections of Philus, if it were not, my Laelius, that all our friends\nare no less anxious than myself to hear you take a leading part in the\npresent debate, especially as you promised yesterday that you would\nplead at large on my side of the argument. If you cannot spare time for\nthis, at any rate do not desert us; we all ask it of you.\n\n_Laelius._ This Carneades ought not to be even listened to by our young\nmen. I think all the while that I am hearing him that he must be a very\nimpure person; if he be not, as I would fain believe, his discourse is\nnot less pernicious.\n\nXXII.[344] True law is right reason conformable to nature, universal,\nunchangeable, eternal, whose commands urge us to duty, and whose\nprohibitions restrain us from evil. Whether it enjoins or forbids, the\ngood respect its injunctions, and the wicked treat them with\nindifference. This law cannot be contradicted by any other law, and is\nnot liable either to derogation or abrogation. Neither the senate nor\nthe people can give us any dispensation for not obeying this universal\nlaw of justice. It needs no other expositor and interpreter than our\nown conscience. It is not one thing at Rome, and another at Athens; one\nthing to-day, and another to-morrow; but in all times and nations this\nuniversal law must forever reign, eternal and imperishable. It is the\nsovereign master and emperor of all beings. God himself is its author,\nits promulgator, its enforcer. And he who does not obey it flies from\nhimself, and does violence to the very nature of man. And by so doing\nhe will endure the severest penalties even if he avoid the other evils\nwhich are usually accounted punishments.\n\n     XXIII. I am aware that in the third book of Cicero's treatise\n     on the Commonwealth (unless I am mistaken) it is argued that\n     no war is ever undertaken by a well-regulated commonwealth\n     unless it be one either for the sake of keeping faith, or for\n     safety; and what he means by a war for safety, and what\n     safety he wishes us to understand, he points out in another\n     passage, where he says, \"But private men often escape from\n     these penalties, which even the most stupid persons\n     feel--want, exile, imprisonment, and stripes--by embracing\n     the opportunity of a speedy death; but to states death itself\n     is a penalty, though it appears to deliver individuals from\n     punishment. For a state ought to be established so as to be\n     eternal: therefore, there is no natural decease for a state,\n     as there is for a man, in whose case death is not only\n     inevitable, but often even desirable; but when a state is put\n     an end to, it is destroyed, extinguished. It is in some\n     degree, to compare small things with great, as if this whole\n     world were to perish and fall to pieces.\"\n\n     In his treatise on the Commonwealth, Cicero says those wars\n     are unjust which are undertaken without reason. Again, after\n     a few sentences, he adds, No war is considered just unless it\n     be formally announced and declared, and unless it be to\n     obtain restitution of what has been taken away.\n\n     But our nation, by defending its allies, has now become the\n     master of all the whole world.\n\n     XXIV. Also, in that same treatise on the Commonwealth, he\n     argues most strenuously and vigorously in the cause of\n     justice against injustice. And since, when a little time\n     before the part of injustice was upheld against justice, and\n     the doctrine was urged that a republic could not prosper and\n     flourish except by injustice, this was put forward as the\n     strongest argument, that it was unjust for men to serve other\n     men as their masters; but that unless a dominant state, such\n     as a great republic, acted on this injustice, it could not\n     govern its provinces; answer was made on behalf of justice,\n     that it was just that it should be so, because slavery is\n     advantageous to such men, and their interests are consulted\n     by a right course of conduct--that is, by the license of\n     doing injury being taken from the wicked--and they will fare\n     better when subjugated, because when not subjugated they\n     fared worse: and to confirm this reasoning, a noble instance,\n     taken, as it were, from nature, was added, and it was said,\n     Why, then, does God govern man, and why does the mind govern\n     the body, and reason govern lust, and the other vicious parts\n     of the mind?\n\n     XXV. Hear what Tully says more plainly still in the third\n     book of his treatise on the Commonwealth, when discussing the\n     reasons for government. Do we not, says he, see that nature\n     herself has given the power of dominion to everything that is\n     best, to the extreme advantage of what is subjected to it?\n     Why, then, does God govern man, and why does the mind govern\n     the body, and reason govern lust and passion and the other\n     vicious parts of the same mind? Listen thus far; for\n     presently he adds, But still there are dissimilarities to be\n     recognized in governing and in obeying. For as the mind is\n     said to govern the body, and also to govern lust, still it\n     governs the body as a king governs his subjects, or a parent\n     his children; but it governs lust as a master governs his\n     slaves, because it restrains and breaks it. The authority of\n     kings, of generals, of magistrates, of fathers, and of\n     nations, rules their subjects and allies as the mind rules\n     bodies; but masters control their slaves, as the best part of\n     the mind--that is to say, wisdom--controls the vicious and\n     weak parts of itself, such as lust, passion, and the other\n     perturbations.\n\n     For there is a kind of unjust slavery when those belong to\n     some one else who might be their own masters; but when those\n     are slaves who cannot govern themselves, there is no injury\n     done.\n\n     XXVI. If, says Carneades, you were to know that an asp was\n     lying hidden anywhere, and that some one who did not know it\n     was going to sit upon it, whose death would be a gain to you,\n     you would act wickedly if you did not warn him not to sit\n     down. Still, you would not be liable to punishment; for who\n     could prove that you had known? But we are bringing forward\n     too many instances; for it is plain that unless equity, good\n     faith, and justice proceed from nature, and if all these\n     things are referred to interest, a good man cannot be found.\n     And on these topics a great deal is said by Laelius in our\n     treatise on the Republic.\n\n     If, as we are reminded by you, we have spoken well in that\n     treatise, when we said that nothing is good excepting what is\n     honorable, and nothing bad excepting what is disgraceful.\n     * * *\n\n     XXVII. I am glad that you approve of the doctrine that the\n     affection borne to our children is implanted by nature;\n     indeed, if it be not, there can be no conection between man\n     and man which has its origin in nature. And if there be not,\n     then there is an end of all society in life. May it turn out\n     well, says Carneades, speaking shamelessly, but still more\n     sensibly than my friend Lucius or Patro: for, as they refer\n     everything to themselves, do they think that anything is ever\n     done for the sake of another? And when they say that a man\n     ought to be good, in order to avoid misfortune, not because\n     it is right by nature, they do not perceive that they are\n     speaking of a cunning man, not of a good one. But these\n     arguments are argued, I think, in those books by praising\n     which you have given me spirits.\n\n     In which I agree that an anxious and hazardous justice is not\n     that of a wise man.\n\n     XXVIII. And again, in Cicero, that same advocate of justice,\n     Laelius, says, Virtue is clearly eager for honor, nor has she\n     any other reward; which, however, she accepts easily, and\n     exacts without bitterness. And in another place the same\n     Laelius says:\n\nWhen a man is inspired by virtue such as this, what bribes can you\noffer him, what treasures, what thrones, what empires? He considers\nthese but mortal goods, and esteems his own divine. And if the\ningratitude of the people, and the envy of his competitors, or the\nviolence of powerful enemies, despoil his virtue of its earthly\nrecompense, he still enjoys a thousand consolations in the approbation\nof conscience, and sustains himself by contemplating the beauty of\nmoral rectitude.\n\nXXIX. * * * This virtue, in order to be true, must be universal.\nTiberius Gracchus continued faithful to his fellow-citizens, but he\nviolated the rights and treaties guaranteed to our allies and the Latin\npeoples. But if this habit of arbitrary violence begins to extend\nitself further, and perverts our authority, leading it from right to\nviolence, so that those who had voluntarily obeyed us are only\nrestrained by fear, then, although we, during our days, may escape the\nperil, yet am I solicitous respecting the safety of our posterity and\nthe immortality of the Commonwealth itself, which, doubtless, might\nbecome perpetual and invincible if our people would maintain their\nancient institutions and manners.\n\nXXX. When Laelius had ceased to speak, all those that were present\nexpressed the extreme pleasure they found in his discourse. But Scipio,\nmore affected than the rest, and ravished with the delight of sympathy,\nexclaimed: You have pleaded, my Laelius, many causes with an eloquence\nsuperior to that of Servius Galba, our colleague, whom you used during\nhis life to prefer to all others, even to the Attic orators [and never\ndid I hear you speak with more energy than to-day, while pleading the\ncause of justice][345] * * *\n\n     * * * That two things were wanting to enable him to speak in\n     public and in the forum, confidence and voice.\n\nXXXI. * * * This justice, continued Scipio, is the very foundation of\nlawful government in political constitutions. Can we call the State of\nAgrigentum a commonwealth, where all men are oppressed by the cruelty\nof a single tyrant--where there is no universal bond of right, nor\nsocial consent and fellowship, which should belong to every people,\nproperly so named? It is the same in Syracuse--that illustrious city\nwhich Timaeus calls the greatest of the Grecian towns. It was indeed a\nmost beautiful city; and its admirable citadel, its canals distributed\nthrough all its districts, its broad streets, its porticoes, its\ntemples, and its walls, gave Syracuse the appearance of a most\nflourishing state. But while Dionysius its tyrant reigned there,\nnothing of all its wealth belonged to the people, and the people were\nnothing better than the slaves of one master. Thus, wherever I behold a\ntyrant, I know that the social constitution must be not merely vicious\nand corrupt, as I stated yesterday, but in strict truth no social\nconstitution at all.\n\nXXXII. _Laelius._ You have spoken admirably, my Scipio, and I see the\npoint of your observations.\n\n_Scipio._ You grant, then, that a state which is entirely in the power\nof a faction cannot justly be entitled a political community?\n\n_Laelius._ That is evident.\n\n_Scipio._ You judge most correctly. For what was the State of Athens\nwhen, during the great Peloponnesian war, she fell under the unjust\ndomination of the thirty tyrants? The antique glory of that city, the\nimposing aspect of its edifices, its theatre, its gymnasium, its\nporticoes, its temples, its citadel, the admirable sculptures of\nPhidias, and the magnificent harbor of Piraeus--did they constitute it a\ncommonwealth?\n\n_Laelius._ Certainly not, because these did not constitute the real\nwelfare of the community.\n\n_Scipio._ And at Rome, when the decemvirs ruled without appeal from\ntheir decisions, in the third year of their power, had not liberty lost\nall its securities and all its blessings?\n\n_Laelius._ Yes; the welfare of the community was no longer consulted,\nand the people soon roused themselves, and recovered their appropriate\nrights.\n\nXXXIII. _Scipio._ I now come to the third, or democratical, form of\ngovernment, in which a considerable difficulty presents itself, because\nall things are there said to lie at the disposition of the people, and\nare carried into execution just as they please. Here the populace\ninflict punishments at their pleasure, and act, and seize, and keep\npossession, and distribute property, without let or hinderance. Can you\ndeny, my Laelius, that this is a fair definition of a democracy, where\nthe people are all in all, and where the people constitute the State?\n\n_Laelius._ There is no political constitution to which I more absolutely\ndeny the name of a _commonwealth_ than that in which all things lie in\nthe power of the multitude. If a commonwealth, which implies the\nwelfare of the entire community, could not exist in Agrigentum,\nSyracuse, or Athens when tyrants reigned over them--if it could not\nexist in Rome when under the oligarchy of the decemvirs--neither do I\nsee how this sacred name of commonwealth can be applied to a democracy\nand the sway of the mob; because, in the first place, my Scipio, I\nbuild on your own admirable definition, that there can be no community,\nproperly so called, unless it be regulated by a combination of rights.\nAnd, by this definition, it appears that a multitude of men may be just\nas tyrannical as a single despot; and it is so much the worse, since no\nmonster can be more barbarous than the mob, which assumes the name and\nappearance of the people. Nor is it at all reasonable, since the laws\nplace the property of madmen in the hands of their sane relations, that\nwe should do the [very reverse in politics, and throw the property of\nthe sane into the hands of the mad multitude][346] * * *\n\nXXXIV. * * * [It is far more rational] to assert that a wise and\nvirtuous aristocratical government deserves the title of a\ncommonwealth, as it approaches to the nature of a kingdom.\n\nAnd much more so in my opinion, said Mummius. For the unity of power\noften exposes a king to become a despot; but when an aristocracy,\nconsisting of many virtuous men, exercise power, that is the most\nfortunate circumstance possible for any state. However this be, I much\nprefer royalty to democracy; for that is the third kind of government\nwhich you have remaining, and a most vicious one it is.\n\nXXXV. Scipio replied: I am well acquainted, my Mummius, with your\ndecided antipathy to the democratical system. And, although, we may\nspeak of it with rather more indulgence than you are accustomed to\naccord it, I must certainly agree with you, that of all the three\nparticular forms of government, none is less commendable than\ndemocracy.\n\nI do not agree with you, however, when you would imply that aristocracy\nis preferable to royalty. If you suppose that wisdom governs the State,\nis it not as well that this wisdom should reside in one monarch as in\nmany nobles?\n\nBut we are led away by a certain incorrectness of terms in a discussion\nlike the present. When we pronounce the word \"aristocracy,\" which, in\nGreek, signifies the government of the best men, what can be conceived\nmore excellent? For what can be thought better than the best? But when,\non the other hand, the title \"king\" is mentioned, we begin to imagine a\ntyrant; as if a king must be necessarily unjust. But we are not\nspeaking of an unjust king when we are examining the true nature of\nroyal authority. To this name of king, therefore, do but attach the\nidea of a Romulus, a Numa, a Tullus, and perhaps you will be less\nsevere to the monarchical form of constitution.\n\n_Mummius_. Have you, then, no commendation at all for any kind of\ndemocratical government?\n\n_Scipio._ Why, I think some democratical forms less objectionable than\nothers; and, by way of illustration, I will ask you what you thought of\nthe government in the isle of Rhodes, where we were lately together;\ndid it appear to you a legitimate and rational constitution?\n\n_Mummius_. It did, and not much liable to abuse.\n\n_Scipio._ You say truly. But, if you recollect, it was a very\nextraordinary experiment. All the inhabitants were alternately senators\nand citizens. Some months they spent in their senatorial functions, and\nsome months they spent in their civil employments. In both they\nexercised judicial powers; and in the theatre and the court, the same\nmen judged all causes, capital and not capital. And they had as much\ninfluence, and were of as much importance as * * *\n\n\nFRAGMENTS.\n\n\n     XXXVI. There is therefore some unquiet feeling in\n     individuals, which either exults in pleasure or is crushed by\n     annoyance.\n\n          [_The next is an incomplete sentence, and, as such,\n          unintelligible_.]\n\n     The Phoenicians were the first who by their commerce, and by\n     the merchandise which they carried, brought avarice and\n     magnificence and insatiable degrees of everything into\n     Greece.\n\n     Sardanapalus, the luxurious king of Assyria, of whom Tully,\n     in the third book of his treatise on the Republic, says, \"The\n     notorious Sardanapalus, far more deformed by his vices than\n     even by his name.\"\n\n     What is the meaning, then, of this absurd acceptation, unless\n     some one wishes to make the whole of Athos a monument? For\n     what is Athos or the vast Olympus? * * *\n\n     XXXVII. I will endeavor in the proper place to show it,\n     according to the definitions of Cicero himself, in which,\n     putting forth Scipio as the speaker, he has briefly explained\n     what a commonwealth and what a republic is; adducing also\n     many assertions of his own, and of those whom he has\n     represented as taking part in that discussion, to the effect\n     that the State of Rome was not such a commonwealth, because\n     there has never been genuine justice in it. However,\n     according to definitions which are more reasonable, it was a\n     commonwealth in some degree, and it was better regulated by\n     the more ancient than by the later Romans.\n\n     It is now fitting that I should explain, as briefly and as\n     clearly as I can, what, in the second book of this work, I\n     promised to prove, according to the definitions which Cicero,\n     in his books on the Commonwealth, puts into the mouth of\n     Scipio, arguing that the Roman State was never a\n     commonwealth; for he briefly defines a commonwealth as a\n     state of the people; the people as an assembly of the\n     multitude, united by a common feeling of right, and a\n     community of interests. What he calls a common feeling of\n     right he explains by discussion, showing in this way that a\n     commonwealth cannot proceed without justice. Where,\n     therefore, there is no genuine justice, there can be no\n     right, for that which is done according to right is done\n     justly; and what is done unjustly cannot be done according to\n     right, for the unjust regulations of men are not to be called\n     or thought rights; since they themselves call that right\n     (_jus_) which flows from the source of justice: and they say\n     that that assertion which is often made by some persons of\n     erroneous sentiments, namely, that that is right which is\n     advantageous to the most powerful, is false. Wherefore, where\n     there is no true justice there can be no company of men\n     united by a common feeling of right; therefore there can be\n     no people (_populus_), according to that definition of Scipio\n     or Cicero: and if there be no people, there can be no state\n     of the people, but only of a mob such as it may be, which is\n     not worthy of the name of a people. And thus, if a\n     commonwealth is a state of a people, and if that is not a\n     people which is not united by a common feeling of right, and\n     if there is no right where there is no justice, then the\n     undoubted inference is, that where there is no justice there\n     is no commonwealth. Moreover, justice is that virtue which\n     gives every one his own.\n\nNo war can be undertaken by a just and wise state unless for faith or\nself-defence. This self-defence of the State is enough to insure its\nperpetuity, and this perpetuity is what all patriots desire. Those\nafflictions which even the hardiest spirits smart under--poverty,\nexile, prison, and torment--private individuals seek to escape from by\nan instantaneous death. But for states, the greatest calamity of all is\nthat of death, which to individuals appears a refuge. A state should be\nso constituted as to live forever. For a commonwealth there is no\nnatural dissolution as there is for a man, to whom death not only\nbecomes necessary, but often desirable. And when a state once decays\nand falls, it is so utterly revolutionized, that, if we may compare\ngreat things with small, it resembles the final wreck of the universe.\n\nAll wars undertaken without a proper motive are unjust. And no war can\nbe reputed just unless it be duly announced and proclaimed, and if it\nbe not preceded by a rational demand for restitution.\n\nOur Roman Commonwealth, by defending its allies, has got possession of\nthe world.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE FOURTH BOOK,\n\nBY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR.\n\n\n   In this fourth book Cicero treats of morals and education, and\n     the use and abuse of stage entertainments. We retain nothing\n     of this important book save a few scattered fragments, the\n     beauty of which fills us with the greater regret for the\n     passages we have lost.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\nFRAGMENTS.\n\n\n     I. * * * Since mention has been made of the body and of the\n     mind, I will endeavor to explain the theory of each as well\n     as the weakness of my understanding is able to comprehend\n     it--a duty which I think it the more becoming in me to\n     undertake, because Marcus Tullius, a man of singular genius,\n     after having attempted to perform it in the fourth book of\n     his treatise on the Commonwealth, compressed a subject of\n     wide extent within narrow limits, only touching lightly on\n     all the principal points. And that there might be no excuse\n     alleged for his not having followed out this topic, he\n     himself has assured us that he was not wanting either in\n     inclination or in anxiety to do so; for, in the first book of\n     his treatise on Laws, when he was touching briefly on the\n     same subject, he speaks thus: \"This topic Scipio, in my\n     opinion, has sufficiently discussed in those books which you\n     have read.\"\n\n     And the mind itself, which sees the future, remembers the\n     past.\n\n     Well did Marcus Tullius say, In truth, if there is no one who\n     would not prefer death to being changed into the form of some\n     beast, although he were still to retain the mind of a man,\n     how much more wretched is it to have the mind of a beast in\n     the form of a man! To me this fate appears as much worse than\n     the other as the mind is superior to the body.\n\n     Tullius says somewhere that he does not think the good of a\n     ram and of Publius Africanus identical.\n\n     And also by its being interposed, it causes shade and night,\n     which is adapted both to the numbering of days and to rest\n     from labor.\n\n     And as in the autumn he has opened the earth to receive\n     seeds, in winter relaxed it that it may digest them, and by\n     the ripening powers of summer softened some and burned up\n     others.\n\n     When the shepherds use * * * for cattle.\n\n     Cicero, in the fourth book of his Commonwealth, uses the word\n     \"armentum,\" and \"armentarius,\" derived from it.\n\nII. The great law of just and regular subordination is the basis of\npolitical prosperity. There is much advantage in the harmonious\nsuccession of ranks and orders and classes, in which the suffrages of\nthe knights and the senators have their due weight. Too many have\nfoolishly desired to destroy this institution, in the vain hope of\nreceiving some new largess, by a public decree, out of a distribution\nof the property of the nobility.\n\nIII. Consider, now, how wisely the other provisions have been adopted,\nin order to secure to the citizens the benefits of an honest and happy\nlife; for that is, indeed, the grand object of all political\nassociation, and that which every government should endeavor to procure\nfor the people, partly by its institutions, and partly by its laws.\n\nConsider, in the first place, the national education of the people--a\nmatter on which the Greeks have expended much labor in vain, and which\nis the only point on which Polybius, who settled among us, accuses the\nnegligence of our institutions. For our countrymen have thought that\neducation ought not to be fixed, nor regulated by laws, nor be given\npublicly and uniformly to all classes of society. For[347] * * *\n\n     According to Tully, who says that men going to serve in the\n     army have guardians assigned to them, by whom they are\n     governed the first year.\n\nIV. [In our ancient laws, young men were prohibited from appearing]\nnaked in the public baths, so far back were the principles of modesty\ntraced by our ancestors. Among the Greeks, on the contrary, what an\nabsurd system of training youth is exhibited in their gymnasia! What a\nfrivolous preparation for the labors and hazards of war! what indecent\nspectacles, what impure and licentious amours are permitted! I do not\nspeak only of the Eleans and Thebans, among whom, in all love affairs,\npassion is allowed to run into shameless excesses; but the Spartans,\nwhile they permit every kind of license to their young men, save that\nof violation, fence off, by a very slight wall, the very exception on\nwhich they insist, besides other crimes which I will not mention.\n\nThen Laelius said: I see, my Scipio, that on the subject of the Greek\ninstitutions, which you censure, you prefer attacking the customs of\nthe most renowned peoples to contending with your favorite Plato, whose\nname you have avoided citing, especially as * * *\n\n     V. So that Cicero, in his treatise on the Commonwealth, says\n     that it was a reproach to young men if they had no lovers.\n\n     Not only as at Sparta, where boys learn to steal and plunder.\n\n     And our master Plato, even more than Lycurgus, who would have\n     everything to be common, so that no one should be able to\n     call anything his own property.\n\n     I would send him to the same place whither he sends Homer,\n     crowned with chaplets and anointed with perfumes, banishing\n     him from the city which he is describing.\n\n     VI. The judgment of the censor inflicts scarcely anything\n     more than a blush on the man whom he condemns. Therefore as\n     all that adjudication turns solely on the name (_nomen_), the\n     punishment is called ignominy.\n\n     Nor should a prefect be set over women, an officer who is\n     created among the Greeks; but there should be a censor to\n     teach husbands to manage their wives.\n\n     So the discipline of modesty has great power. All women\n     abstain from wine.\n\n     And also if any woman was of bad character, her relations\n     used not to kiss her.\n\n     So petulance is derived from asking (_petendo_); wantonness\n     (_procacitas_) from _procando_, that is, from demanding.\n\n     VII. For I do not approve of the same nation being the ruler\n     and the farmer of lands. But both in private families and in\n     the affairs of the Commonwealth I look upon economy as a\n     revenue.\n\n     Faith (_fides_) appears to me to derive its name from that\n     being done (_fit_) which is said.\n\n     In a citizen of rank and noble birth, caressing manners,\n     display, and ambition are marks of levity.\n\n     Examine for a while the books on the Republic, and learn that\n     good men know no bound or limit in consulting the interests\n     of their country. See in that treatise with what praises\n     frugality, and continency, and fidelity to the marriage tie,\n     and chaste, honorable, and virtuous manners are extolled.\n\n     VIII. I marvel at the elegant choice, not only of the facts,\n     but of the language. If they dispute (_jurgant_). It is a\n     contest between well-wishers, not a quarrel between enemies,\n     that is called a dispute (_jurgium_),\n\n     Therefore the law considers that neighbors dispute\n     (_jurgare_) rather than quarrel (_litigare_) with one\n     another.\n\n     The bounds of man's care and of man's life are the same; so\n     by the pontifical law the sanctity of burial * * *\n\n     They put them to death, though innocent, because they had\n     left those men unburied whom they could not rescue from the\n     sea because of the violence of the storm.\n\n     Nor in this discussion have I advocated the cause of the\n     populace, but of the good.\n\n     For one cannot easily resist a powerful people if one gives\n     them either no rights at all or very little.\n\n     In which case I wish I could augur first with truth and\n     fidelity * * *\n\n     IX. Cicero saying this in vain, when speaking of poets, \"And\n     when the shouts and approval of the people, as of some great\n     and wise teacher, has reached them, what darkness do they\n     bring on! what alarms do they cause! what desires do they\n     excite!\"\n\n     Cicero says that if his life were extended to twice its\n     length, he should not have time to read the lyric poets.\n\n     X. As Scipio says in Cicero, \"As they thought the whole\n     histrionic art, and everything connected with the theatre,\n     discreditable, they thought fit that all men of that\n     description should not only be deprived of the honors\n     belonging to the rest of the citizens, but should also be\n     deprived of their franchise by the sentence of the censors.\"\n\n     And what the ancient Romans thought on this subject Cicero\n     informs us, in those books which he wrote on the\n     Commonwealth, where Scipio argues and says * * *\n\nComedies could never (if it had not been authorized by the common\ncustoms of life) have made theatres approve of their scandalous\nexhibitions. And the more ancient Greeks provided a certain correction\nfor the vicious taste of the people, by making a law that it should be\nexpressly defined by a censorship what subjects comedy should treat,\nand how she should treat them.\n\nWhom has it not attacked? or, rather, whom has it not wounded? and whom\nhas it spared? In this, no doubt, it sometimes took the right side, and\nlashed the popular demagogues and seditious agitators, such as Cleon,\nCleophon, and Hyperbolus. We may tolerate that; though indeed the\ncensure of the magistrate would, in these cases, have been more\nefficacious than the satire of the poet. But when Pericles, who\ngoverned the Athenian Commonwealth for so many years with the highest\nauthority, both in peace and war, was outraged by verses, and these\nwere acted on the stage, it was hardly more decent than if, among us,\nPlautus and Naevius had attacked Publius and Cnaeus, or Caecilius had\nventured to revile Marcus Cato.\n\nOur laws of the Twelve Tables, on the contrary--so careful to attach\ncapital punishment to a very few crimes only--have included in this\nclass of capital offences the offence of composing or publicly reciting\nverses of libel, slander, and defamation, in order to cast dishonor and\ninfamy on a fellow-citizen. And they have decided wisely; for our life\nand character should, if suspected, be submitted to the sentence of\njudicial tribunals and the legal investigations of our magistrates, and\nnot to the whims and fancies of poets. Nor should we be exposed to any\ncharge of disgrace which we cannot meet by legal process, and openly\nrefute at the bar.\n\nIn our laws, I admire the justice of their expressions, as well as\ntheir decisions. Thus the word _pleading_ signifies rather an amicable\nsuit between friends than a quarrel between enemies.\n\nIt is not easy to resist a powerful people, if you allow them no\nrights, or next to none.\n\n     The old Romans would not allow any living man to be either\n     praised or blamed on the stage.\n\n     XI. Cicero says that comedy is an imitation of life; a mirror\n     of customs, an image of truth.\n\n     Since, as is mentioned in that book on the Commonwealth, not\n     only did AEschines the Athenian, a man of the greatest\n     eloquence, who, when a young man, had been an actor of\n     tragedies, concern himself in public affairs, but the\n     Athenians often sent Aristodemus, who was also a tragic\n     actor, to Philip as an ambassador, to treat of the most\n     important affairs of peace and war.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE FIFTH BOOK,\n\nBY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR.\n\n\n   In this fifth book Cicero explains and enforces the duties of\n     magistrates, and the importance of practical experience to\n     all who undertake their important functions. Only a few\n     fragments have survived the wreck of ages and descended to\n     us.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V.\n\nFRAGMENTS.\n\n\nI. Ennius has told us--\n\n    Of men and customs mighty Rome consists;\n\nwhich verse, both for its precision and its verity, appears to me as if\nit had issued from an oracle; for neither the men, unless the State had\nadopted a certain system of manners--nor the manners, unless they had\nbeen illustrated by the men--could ever have established or maintained\nfor so many ages so vast a republic, or one of such righteous and\nextensive sway.\n\nThus, long before our own times, the force of hereditary manners of\nitself moulded most eminent men; and admirable citizens, in return,\ngave new weight to the ancient customs and institutions of our\nancestors. But our age, on the contrary, having received the\nCommonwealth as a finished picture of another century, but one already\nbeginning to fade through the lapse of years, has not only neglected to\nrenew the colors of the original painting, but has not even cared to\npreserve its general form and prominent lineaments.\n\nFor what now remains of those antique manners, of which the poet said\nthat our Commonwealth consisted? They have now become so obsolete and\nforgotten that they are not only not cultivated, but they are not even\nknown. And as to the men, what shall I say? For the manners themselves\nhave only perished through a scarcity of men; of which great misfortune\nwe are not only called to give an account, but even, as men accused of\ncapital offences, to a certain degree to plead our own cause in\nconnection with it. For it is owing to our vices, rather than to any\naccident, that we have retained the name of republic when we have long\nsince lost the reality.\n\nII. * * * There is no employment so essentially royal as the exposition\nof equity, which comprises the true interpretation of all laws. This\njustice subjects used generally to expect from their kings. For this\nreason, lands, fields, woods, and pastures were reserved as the\nproperty of kings, and cultivated for them, without any labor on their\npart, in order that no anxiety on account of their personal interests\nmight distract their attention from the welfare of the State. Nor was\nany private man allowed to be the judge or arbitrator in any suit; but\nall disputes were terminated by the royal sentence.\n\nAnd of all our Roman monarchs, Numa appears to me to have best\npreserved this ancient custom of the kings of Greece. For the others,\nthough they also discharged this duty, were for the main part employed\nin conducting military enterprises, and in attending to those rights\nwhich belonged to war. But the long peace of Numa's reign was the\nmother of law and religion in this city. And he was himself the author\nof those admirable laws which, as you are aware, are still extant. And\nthis character is precisely what belongs to the man of whom we are\nspeaking. * * *\n\nIII. [_Scipio._ Ought not a farmer] to be acquainted with the nature of\nplants and seeds?\n\n_Manilius._ Certainly, provided he attends to his practical business\nalso.\n\n_Scipio._ Do you think that knowledge only fit for a steward?\n\n_Manilius._ Certainly not, inasmuch as the cultivation of land often\nfails for want of agricultural labor.\n\n_Scipio._ Therefore, as the steward knows the nature of a field, and\nthe scribe knows penmanship, and as both of them seek, in their\nrespective sciences, not mere amusement only, but practical utility, so\nthis statesman of ours should have studied the science of jurisprudence\nand legislation; he should have investigated their original sources;\nbut he should not embarrass himself in debating and arguing, reading\nand scribbling. He should rather employ himself in the actual\nadministration of government, and become a sort of steward of it, being\nperfectly conversant with the principles of universal law and equity,\nwithout which no man can be just: not unfamiliar with the civil laws of\nstates; but he will use them for practical purposes, even as a pilot\nuses astronomy, and a physician natural philosophy. For both these men\nbring their theoretical science to bear on the practice of their arts;\nand our statesman [should do the same with the science of politics, and\nmake it subservient to the actual interests of philanthropy and\npatriotism]. * * *\n\nIV. * * * In states in which good men desire glory and approbation, and\nshun disgrace and ignominy. Nor are such men so much alarmed by the\nthreats and penalties of the law as by that sentiment of shame with\nwhich nature has endowed man, which is nothing else than a certain fear\nof deserved censure. The wise director of a government strengthens this\nnatural instinct by the force of public opinion, and perfects it by\neducation and manners. And thus the citizens are preserved from vice\nand corruption rather by honor and shame than by fear of punishment.\nBut this argument will be better illustrated when we treat of the love\nof glory and praise, which we shall discuss on another occasion.\n\nV. As respects the private life and the manners of the citizens, they\nare intimately connected with the laws that constitute just marriages\nand legitimate offspring, under the protection of the guardian deities\naround the domestic hearths. By these laws, all men should be\nmaintained in their rights of public and private property. It is only\nunder a good government like this that men can live happily--for\nnothing can be more delightful than a well-constituted state.\n\nOn which account it appears to me a very strange thing what this * * *\n\n     VI. I therefore consume all my time in considering what is\n     the power of that man, whom, as you think, we have described\n     carefully enough in our books. Do you, then, admit our idea\n     of that governor of a commonwealth to whom we wish to refer\n     everything? For thus, I imagine, does Scipio speak in the\n     fifth book: \"For as a fair voyage is the object of the master\n     of a ship, the health of his patient the aim of a physician,\n     and victory that of a general, so the happiness of his\n     fellow-citizens is the proper study of the ruler of a\n     commonwealth; that they may be stable in power, rich in\n     resources, widely known in reputation, and honorable through\n     their virtue. For a ruler ought to be one who can perfect\n     this, which is the best and most important employment among\n     mankind.\"\n\n     And works in your literature rightly praise that ruler of a\n     country who consults the welfare of his people more than\n     their inclinations.\n\n     VII. Tully, in those books which he wrote upon the\n     Commonwealth, could not conceal his opinions, when he speaks\n     of appointing a chief of the State, who, he says, must be\n     maintained by glory; and afterward he relates that his\n     ancestors did many admirable and noble actions from a desire\n     of glory.\n\n     Tully, in his treatise on the Commonwealth, wrote that the\n     chief of a state must be maintained by glory, and that a\n     commonwealth would last as long as honor was paid by every\n     one to the chief.\n\n          [_The next paragraph is unintelligible._]\n\n     Which virtue is called fortitude, which consists of\n     magnanimity, and a great contempt of death and pain.\n\n     VIII. As Marcellus was fierce, and eager to fight, Maximus\n     prudent and cautious.\n\n     Who discovered his violence and unbridled ferocity.\n\n     Which has often happened not only to individuals, but also to\n     most powerful nations.\n\n     In the whole world.\n\n     Because he inflicted the annoyances of his old age on your\n     families.\n\n     IX. Cicero, in his treatise on the Commonwealth, says, \"As\n     Menelaus of Lacedaemon had a certain agreeable sweetness of\n     eloquence.\" And in another place he says, \"Let him cultivate\n     brevity in speaking.\"\n\n     By the evidence of which arts, as Tully says, it is a shame\n     for the conscience of the judge to be misled. For he says,\n     \"And as nothing in a commonwealth ought to be so uncorrupt as\n     a suffrage and a sentence, I do not see why the man who\n     perverts them by money is worthy of punishment, while he who\n     does so by eloquence is even praised. Indeed, I myself think\n     that he who corrupts the judge by his speech does more harm\n     than he who does so by money, because no one can corrupt a\n     sensible man by money, though he may by speaking.\"\n\n     And when Scipio had said this, Mummius praised him greatly,\n     for he was extravagantly imbued with a hatred of orators.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE SIXTH BOOK.\n\n\n   In this last book of his Commonwealth, Cicero labors to show\n     that truly pious philanthropical and patriotic statesmen will\n     not only be rewarded on earth by the approval of conscience\n     and the applause of all good citizens, but that they may\n     expect hereafter immortal glory in new forms of being. To\n     illustrate this, he introduces the \"Dream of Scipio,\" in\n     which he explains the resplendent doctrines of Plato\n     respecting the immortality of the soul with inimitable\n     dignity and elegance. This Somnium Scipionis, for which we\n     are indebted to the citation of Macrobius, is the most\n     beautiful thing of the kind ever written. It has been\n     intensely admired by all European scholars, and will be still\n     more so. There are two translations of it in our language;\n     one attached to Oliver's edition of Cicero's Thoughts, the\n     other by Mr. Danby, published in 1829. Of these we have\n     freely availed ourselves, and as freely we express our\n     acknowledgments.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VI.\n\nSCIPIO'S DREAM.\n\n\n     I. Therefore you rely upon all the prudence of this rule,\n     which has derived its very name (_prudentia_) from foreseeing\n     (_a providendo_). Wherefore the citizen must so prepare\n     himself as to be always armed against those things which\n     trouble the constitution of a state. And that dissension of\n     the citizens, when one party separates from and attacks\n     another, is called sedition.\n\n     And in truth in civil dissensions, as the good are of more\n     importance than the many, I think that we should regard the\n     weight of the citizens, and not their number.\n\n     For the lusts, being severe mistresses of the thoughts,\n     command and compel many an unbridled action. And as they\n     cannot be satisfied or appeased by any means, they urge those\n     whom they have inflamed with their allurements to every kind\n     of atrocity.\n\n     II. Which indeed was so much the greater in him because\n     though the cause of the colleagues was identical, not only\n     was their unpopularity not equal, but the influence of\n     Gracchus was employed in mitigating the hatred borne to\n     Claudius.\n\n     Who encountered the number of the chiefs and nobles with\n     these words, and left behind him that mournful and dignified\n     expression of his gravity and influence.\n\n     That, as he writes, a thousand men might every day descend\n     into the forum with cloaks dyed in purple.\n\n          [_The next paragraph is unintelligible._]\n\n     For our ancestors wished marriages to be firmly established.\n\n     There is a speech extant of Laelius with which we are all\n     acquainted, expressing how pleasing to the immortal gods are\n     the * * * and * * * of the priests.\n\n     III. Cicero, writing about the Commonwealth, in imitation of\n     Plato, has related the story of the return of Er the\n     Pamphylian to life; who, as he says, had come to life again\n     after he had been placed on the funeral pile, and related\n     many secrets about the shades below; not speaking, like\n     Plato, in a fabulous imitation of truth, but using a certain\n     reasonable invention of an ingenious dream, cleverly\n     intimating that these things which were uttered about the\n     immortality of the soul, and about heaven, are not the\n     inventions of dreaming philosophers, nor the incredible\n     fables which the Epicureans ridicule, but the conjectures of\n     wise men. He insinuates that that Scipio who by the\n     subjugation of Carthage obtained Africanus as a surname for\n     his family, gave notice to Scipio the son of Paulus of the\n     treachery which threatened him from his relations, and the\n     course of fate, because by the necessity of numbers he was\n     confined in the period of a perfect life, and he says that he\n     in the fifty-sixth year of his age * * *\n\n     IV. Some of our religion who love Plato, on account of his\n     admirable kind of eloquence, and of some correct opinions\n     which he held, say that he had some opinions similar to my\n     own touching the resurrection of the dead, which subject\n     Tully touches on in his treatise on the Commonwealth, and\n     says that he was rather jesting than intending to say that\n     was true. For he asserts that a man returned to life, and\n     related some stories which harmonized with the discussions of\n     the Platonists.\n\n     V. In this point the imitation has especially preserved the\n     likeness of the work, because, as Plato, in the conclusion of\n     his volume, represents a certain person who had returned to\n     life, which he appeared to have quitted, as indicating what\n     is the condition of souls when stripped of the body, with the\n     addition of a certain not unnecessary description of the\n     spheres and stars, an appearance of circumstances indicating\n     things of the same kind is related by the Scipio of Cicero,\n     as having been brought before him in sleep.\n\n     VI. Tully is found to have preserved this arrangement with no\n     less judgment than genius. After, in every condition of the\n     Commonwealth, whether of leisure or business, he has given\n     the palm to justice, he has placed the sacred abodes of the\n     immortal souls, and the secrets of the heavenly regions, on\n     the very summit of his completed work, indicating whither\n     they must come, or rather return, who have managed the\n     republic with prudence, justice, fortitude, and moderation.\n     But that Platonic relater of secrets was a man of the name of\n     Er, a Pamphylian by nation, a soldier by profession, who,\n     after he appeared to have died from wounds received in\n     battle, and twelve days afterward was about to receive the\n     honors of the funeral pile with the others who were slain at\n     the same time, suddenly either recovering his life, or else\n     never having lost it, as if he were giving a public\n     testimony, related to all men all that he had done or seen in\n     the days that he had thus passed between life and death.\n     Although Cicero, as if himself conscious of the truth,\n     grieves that this story has been ridiculed by the ignorant,\n     still, avoiding giving an example of foolish reproach, he\n     preferred speaking of the relater as of one awakened from a\n     swoon rather than restored to life.\n\n     VII. And before we look at the words of the dream we must\n     explain what kind of persons they are by whom Cicero says\n     that even the account of Plato was ridiculed, who are not\n     apprehensive that the same thing may happen to them. Nor by\n     this expression does he wish the ignorant mob to be\n     understood, but a kind of men who are ignorant of the truth,\n     though pretending to be philosophers with a display of\n     learning, who, it was notorious, had read such things, and\n     were eager to find faults. We will say, therefore, who they\n     are whom he reports as having levelled light reproaches\n     against so great a philosopher, and who of them has even left\n     an accusation of him committed to writing, etc. The whole\n     faction of the Epicureans, always wandering at an equal\n     distance from truth, and thinking everything ridiculous which\n     they do not understand, has ridiculed the sacred volume, and\n     the most venerable mysteries of nature. But Colotes, who is\n     somewhat celebrated and remarkable for his loquacity among\n     the pupils of Epicurus, has even recorded in a book the\n     bitter reproaches which he aims at him. But since the other\n     arguments which he foolishly urges have no connection with\n     the dream of which we are now talking, we will pass them over\n     at present, and attend only to the calumny which will stick\n     both to Cicero and Plato, unless it is silenced. He says that\n     a fable ought not to have been invented by a philosopher,\n     since no kind of falsehood is suitable to professors of\n     truth. For why, says he, if you wish to give us a notion of\n     heavenly things and to teach us the nature of souls, did you\n     not do so by a simple and plain explanation? Why was a\n     character invented, and circumstances, and strange events,\n     and a scene of cunningly adduced falsehood arranged, to\n     pollute the very door of the investigation of truth by a lie?\n     Since these things, though they are said of the Platonic Er,\n     do also attack the rest of our dreaming Africanus.\n\n     VIII. This occasion incited Scipio to relate his dream, which\n     he declares that he had buried in silence for a long time.\n     For when Laelius was complaining that there were no statues of\n     Nasica erected in any public place, as a reward for his\n     having slain the tyrant, Scipio replied in these words: \"But\n     although the consciousness itself of great deeds is to wise\n     men the most ample reward of virtue, yet that divine nature\n     ought to have, not statues fixed in lead, nor triumphs with\n     withering laurels, but some more stable and lasting kinds of\n     rewards.\" \"What are they?\" said Laelius. \"Then,\" said Scipio,\n     \"suffer me, since we have now been keeping holiday for three\n     days, * * * etc.\" By which preface he came to the relation of\n     his dream; pointing out that those were the more stable and\n     lasting kinds of rewards which he himself had seen in heaven\n     reserved for good governors of commonwealths.\n\nIX. When I had arrived in Africa, where I was, as you are aware,\nmilitary tribune of the fourth legion under the consul Manilius, there\nwas nothing of which I was more earnestly desirous than to see King\nMasinissa, who, for very just reasons, had been always the especial\nfriend of our family. When I was introduced to him, the old man\nembraced me, shed tears, and then, looking up to heaven, exclaimed--I\nthank thee, O supreme Sun, and ye also, ye other celestial beings, that\nbefore I depart from this life I behold in my kingdom, and in this my\npalace, Publius Cornelius Scipio, by whose mere name I seem to be\nreanimated; so completely and indelibly is the recollection of that\nbest and most invincible of men, Africanus, imprinted in my mind.\n\nAfter this, I inquired of him concerning the affairs of his kingdom.\nHe, on the other hand, questioned me about the condition of our\nCommonwealth, and in this mutual interchange of conversation we passed\nthe whole of that day.\n\nX. In the evening we were entertained in a manner worthy the\nmagnificence of a king, and carried on our discourse for a considerable\npart of the night. And during all this time the old man spoke of\nnothing but Africanus, all whose actions, and even remarkable sayings,\nhe remembered distinctly. At last, when we retired to bed, I fell into\na more profound sleep than usual, both because I was fatigued with my\njourney, and because I had sat up the greatest part of the night.\n\nHere I had the following dream, occasioned, as I verily believe, by our\npreceding conversation; for it frequently happens that the thoughts and\ndiscourses which have employed us in the daytime produce in our sleep\nan effect somewhat similar to that which Ennius writes happened to him\nabout Homer, of whom, in his waking hours, he used frequently to think\nand speak.\n\nAfricanus, I thought, appeared to me in that shape, with which I was\nbetter acquainted from his picture than from any personal knowledge of\nhim. When I perceived it was he, I confess I trembled with\nconsternation; but he addressed me, saying, Take courage, my Scipio; be\nnot afraid, and carefully remember what I shall say to you.\n\nXI. Do you see that city Carthage, which, though brought under the\nRoman yoke by me, is now renewing former wars, and cannot live in\npeace? (and he pointed to Carthage from a lofty spot, full of stars,\nand brilliant, and glittering)--to attack which city you are this day\narrived in a station not much superior to that of a private soldier.\nBefore two years, however, are elapsed, you shall be consul, and\ncomplete its overthrow; and you shall obtain, by your own merit, the\nsurname of Africanus, which as yet belongs to you no otherwise than as\nderived from me. And when you have destroyed Carthage, and received the\nhonor of a triumph, and been made censor, and, in quality of\nambassador, visited Egypt, Syria, Asia, and Greece, you shall be\nelected a second time consul in your absence, and, by utterly\ndestroying Numantia, put an end to a most dangerous war.\n\nBut when you have entered the Capitol in your triumphal car, you shall\nfind the Roman Commonwealth all in a ferment, through the intrigues of\nmy grandson Tiberius Gracchus.\n\nXII. It is on this occasion, my dear Africanus, that you show your\ncountry the greatness of your understanding, capacity, and prudence.\nBut I see that the destiny, however, of that time is, as it were,\nuncertain; for when your age shall have accomplished seven times eight\nrevolutions of the sun, and your fatal hours shall be marked put by the\nnatural product of these two numbers, each of which is esteemed a\nperfect one, but for different reasons, then shall the whole city have\nrecourse to you alone, and place its hopes in your auspicious name. On\nyou the senate, all good citizens, the allies, the people of Latium,\nshall cast their eyes; on you the preservation of the State shall\nentirely depend. In a word, _if you escape the impious machinations of\nyour relatives_, you will, in quality of dictator, establish order and\ntranquillity in the Commonwealth.\n\nWhen on this Laelius made an exclamation, and the rest of the company\ngroaned loudly, Scipio, with a gentle smile, said, I entreat you, do\nnot wake me out of my dream, but have patience, and hear the rest.\n\nXIII. Now, in order to encourage you, my dear Africanus, continued the\nshade of my ancestor, to defend the State with the greater\ncheerfulness, be assured that, for all those who have in any way\nconduced to the preservation, defence, and enlargement of their native\ncountry, there is a certain place in heaven where they shall enjoy an\neternity of happiness. For nothing on earth is more agreeable to God,\nthe Supreme Governor of the universe, than the assemblies and societies\nof men united together by laws, which are called states. It is from\nheaven their rulers and preservers came, and thither they return.\n\nXIV. Though at these words I was extremely troubled, not so much at the\nfear of death as at the perfidy of my own relations, yet I recollected\nmyself enough to inquire whether he himself, my father Paulus, and\nothers whom we look upon as dead, were really living.\n\nYes, truly, replied he, they all enjoy life who have escaped from the\nchains of the body as from a prison. But as to what you call life on\nearth, that is no more than one form of death. But see; here comes your\nfather Paulus towards you! And as soon as I observed him, my eyes burst\nout into a flood of tears; but he took me in his arms, embraced me, and\nbade me not weep.\n\nXV. When my first transports subsided, and I regained the liberty of\nspeech, I addressed my father thus: Thou best and most venerable of\nparents, since this, as I am informed by Africanus, is the only\nsubstantial life, why do I linger on earth, and not rather haste to\ncome hither where you are?\n\nThat, replied he, is impossible: unless that God, whose temple is all\nthat vast expanse you behold, shall free you from the fetters of the\nbody, you can have no admission into this place. Mankind have received\ntheir being on this very condition, that they should labor for the\npreservation of that globe which is situated, as you see, in the midst\nof this temple, and is called earth.\n\nMen are likewise endowed with a soul, which is a portion of the eternal\nfires which you call stars and constellations; and which, being round,\nspherical bodies, animated by divine intelligences, perform their\ncycles and revolutions with amazing rapidity. It is your duty,\ntherefore, my Publius, and that of all who have any veneration for the\nGods, to preserve this wonderful union of soul and body; nor without\nthe express command of Him who gave you a soul should the least thought\nbe entertained of quitting human life, lest you seem to desert the post\nassigned you by God himself.\n\nBut rather follow the examples of your grandfather here, and of me,\nyour father, in paying a strict regard to justice and piety; which is\ndue in a great degree to parents and relations, but most of all to our\ncountry. Such a life as this is the true way to heaven, and to the\ncompany of those, who, after having lived on earth and escaped from the\nbody, inhabit the place which you now behold.\n\nXVI. This was the shining circle, or zone, whose remarkable brightness\ndistinguishes it among the constellations, and which, after the Greeks,\nyou call the Milky Way.\n\nFrom thence, as I took a view of the universe, everything appeared\nbeautiful and admirable; for there those stars are to be seen that are\nnever visible from our globe, and everything appears of such magnitude\nas we could not have imagined. The least of all the stars was that\nremoved farthest from heaven, and situated next to the earth; I mean\nour moon, which shines with a borrowed light. Now, the globes of the\nstars far surpass the magnitude of our earth, which at that distance\nappeared so exceedingly small that I could not but be sensibly affected\non seeing our whole empire no larger than if we touched the earth, as\nit were, at a single point.\n\nXVII. And as I continued to observe the earth with great attention, How\nlong, I pray you, said Africanus, will your mind be fixed on that\nobject? why don't you rather take a view of the magnificent temples\namong which you have arrived? The universe is composed of nine circles,\nor rather spheres, one of which is the heavenly one, and is exterior to\nall the rest, which it embraces; being itself the Supreme God, and\nbounding and containing the whole. In it are fixed those stars which\nrevolve with never-varying courses. Below this are seven other spheres,\nwhich revolve in a contrary direction to that of the heavens. One of\nthese is occupied by the globe which on earth they call Saturn. Next to\nthat is the star of Jupiter, so benign and salutary to mankind. The\nthird in order is that fiery and terrible planet called Mars. Below\nthis, again, almost in the middle region, is the sun--the leader,\ngovernor, and prince of the other luminaries; the soul of the world,\nwhich it regulates and illumines; being of such vast size that it\npervades and gives light to all places. Then follow Venus and Mercury,\nwhich attend, as it were, on the sun. Lastly, the moon, which shines\nonly in the reflected beams of the sun, moves in the lowest sphere of\nall. Below this, if we except that gift of the Gods, the soul, which\nhas been given by the liberality of the Gods to the human race,\neverything is mortal, and tends to dissolution; but above the moon all\nis eternal. For the earth, which is the ninth globe, and occupies the\ncentre, is immovable, and, being the lowest, all others gravitate\ntowards it.\n\nXVIII. When I had recovered myself from the astonishment occasioned by\nsuch a wonderful prospect, I thus addressed Africanus: Pray what is\nthis sound that strikes my ears in so loud and agreeable a manner? To\nwhich he replied: It is that which is called the _music of the\nspheres_, being produced by their motion and impulse; and being formed\nby unequal intervals, but such as are divided according to the justest\nproportion, it produces, by duly tempering acute with grave sounds,\nvarious concerts of harmony. For it is impossible that motions so great\nshould be performed without any noise; and it is agreeable to nature\nthat the extremes on one side should produce sharp, and on the other\nflat sounds. For which reason the sphere of the fixed stars, being the\nhighest, and being carried with a more rapid velocity, moves with a\nshrill and acute sound; whereas that of the moon, being the lowest,\nmoves with a very flat one. As to the earth, which makes the ninth\nsphere, it remains immovably fixed in the middle or lowest part of the\nuniverse. But those eight revolving circles, in which both Mercury and\nVenus are moved with the same celerity, give out sounds that are\ndivided by seven distinct intervals, which is generally the regulating\nnumber of all things.\n\nThis celestial harmony has been imitated by learned musicians both on\nstringed instruments and with the voice, whereby they have opened to\nthemselves a way to return to the celestial regions, as have likewise\nmany others who have employed their sublime genius while on earth in\ncultivating the divine sciences.\n\nBy the amazing noise of this sound the ears of mankind have been in\nsome degree deafened; and indeed hearing is the dullest of all the\nhuman senses. Thus, the people who dwell near the cataracts of the\nNile, which are called Catadupa[348], are, by the excessive roar which\nthat river makes in precipitating itself from those lofty mountains,\nentirely deprived of the sense of hearing. And so inconceivably great\nis this sound which is produced by the rapid motion of the whole\nuniverse, that the human ear is no more capable of receiving it than\nthe eye is able to look steadfastly and directly on the sun, whose\nbeams easily dazzle the strongest sight.\n\nWhile I was busied in admiring the scene of wonders, I could not help\ncasting my eyes every now and then on the earth.\n\nXIX. On which Africanus said, I perceive that you are still employed in\ncontemplating the seat and residence of mankind. But if it appears to\nyou so small, as in fact it really is, despise its vanities, and fix\nyour attention forever on these heavenly objects. Is it possible that\nyou should attain any human applause or glory that is worth the\ncontending for? The earth, you see, is peopled but in a very few\nplaces, and those, too, of small extent; and they appear like so many\nlittle spots of green scattered through vast, uncultivated deserts. And\nthose who inhabit the earth are not only so remote from each other as\nto be cut off from all mutual correspondence, but their situation being\nin oblique or contrary parts of the globe, or perhaps in those\ndiametrically opposite to yours, all expectation of universal fame must\nfall to the ground.\n\nXX. You may likewise observe that the same globe of the earth is girt\nand surrounded with certain zones, whereof those two that are most\nremote from each other, and lie under the opposite poles of heaven, are\ncongealed with frost; but that one in the middle, which is far the\nlargest, is scorched with the intense heat of the sun. The other two\nare habitable, one towards the south, the inhabitants of which are your\nantipodes, with whom you have no connection; the other, towards the\nnorth, is that which you inhabit, whereof a very small part, as you may\nsee, falls to your share. For the whole extent of what you see is, as\nit were, but a little island, narrow at both ends and wide in the\nmiddle, which is surrounded by the sea which on earth you call the\ngreat Atlantic Ocean, and which, notwithstanding this magnificent name,\nyou see is very insignificant. And even in these cultivated and\nwell-known countries, has yours, or any of our names, ever passed the\nheights of the Caucasus or the currents of the Ganges? In what other\nparts to the north or the south, or where the sun rises and sets, will\nyour names ever be heard? And if we leave these out of the question,\nhow small a space is there left for your glory to spread itself abroad;\nand how long will it remain in the memory of those whose minds are now\nfull of it?\n\nXXI. Besides all this, if the progeny of any future generation should\nwish to transmit to their posterity the praises of any one of us which\nthey have heard from their forefathers, yet the deluges and combustions\nof the earth, which must necessarily happen at their destined periods,\nwill prevent our obtaining, not only an eternal, but even a durable\nglory. And, after all, what does it signify whether those who shall\nhereafter be born talk of you, when those who have lived before you,\nwhose number was perhaps not less, and whose merit certainly greater,\nwere not so much as acquainted with your name?\n\nXXII. Especially since not one of those who shall hear of us is able to\nretain in his memory the transactions of a single year. The bulk of\nmankind, indeed, measure their year by the return of the sun, which is\nonly one star. But when all the stars shall have returned to the place\nwhence they set out, and after long periods shall again exhibit the\nsame aspect of the whole heavens, that is what ought properly to be\ncalled the revolution of a year, though I scarcely dare attempt to\nenumerate the vast multitude of ages contained in it. For as the sun in\nold time was eclipsed, and seemed to be extinguished, at the time when\nthe soul of Romulus penetrated into these eternal mansions, so, when\nall the constellations and stars shall revert to their primary\nposition, and the sun shall at the same point and time be again\neclipsed, then you may consider that the grand year is completed. Be\nassured, however, that the twentieth part of it is not yet elapsed.\n\nXXIII. Wherefore, if you have no hopes of returning to this place where\ngreat and good men enjoy all that their souls can wish for, of what\nvalue, pray, is all that human glory, which can hardly endure for a\nsmall portion of one year?\n\nIf, then, you wish to elevate your views to the contemplation of this\neternal seat of splendor, you will not be satisfied with the praises of\nyour fellow-mortals, nor with any human rewards that your exploits can\nobtain; but Virtue herself must point out to you the true and only\nobject worthy of your pursuit. Leave to others to speak of you as they\nmay, for speak they will. Their discourses will be confined to the\nnarrow limits of the countries you see, nor will their duration be very\nextensive; for they will perish like those who utter them, and will be\nno more remembered by their posterity.\n\nXXIV. When he had ceased to speak in this manner, I said, O Africanus,\nif indeed the door of heaven is open to those who have deserved well of\ntheir country, although, indeed, from my childhood I have always\nfollowed yours and my father's steps, and have not neglected to imitate\nyour glory, still, I will from henceforth strive to follow them more\nclosely.\n\nFollow them, then, said he, and consider your body only, not yourself,\nas mortal. For it is not your outward form which constitutes your\nbeing, but your mind; not that substance which is palpable to the\nsenses, but your spiritual nature. _Know, then, that you are a\nGod_--for a God it must be, which flourishes, and feels, and\nrecollects, and foresees, and governs, regulates and moves the body\nover which it is set, as the Supreme Ruler does the world which is\nsubject to him. For as that Eternal Being moves whatever is mortal in\nthis world, so the immortal mind of man moves the frail body with which\nit is connected.\n\nXXV. For whatever is always moving must be eternal; but that which\nderives its motion from a power which is foreign to itself, when that\nmotion ceases must itself lose its animation.\n\nThat alone, then, which moves itself can never cease to be moved,\nbecause it can never desert itself. Moreover, it must be the source,\nand origin, and principle of motion in all the rest. There can be\nnothing prior to a principle, for all things must originate from it;\nand it cannot itself derive its existence from any other source, for if\nit did it would no longer be a principle. And if it had no beginning,\nit can have no end; for a beginning that is put an end to will neither\nbe renewed by any other cause, nor will it produce anything else of\nitself. All things, therefore, must originate from one source. Thus it\nfollows that motion must have its source in something which is moved by\nitself, and which can neither have a beginning nor an end. Otherwise\nall the heavens and all nature must perish, for it is impossible that\nthey can of themselves acquire any power of producing motion in\nthemselves.\n\nXXVI. As, therefore, it is plain that what is moved by itself must be\neternal, who will deny that this is the general condition and nature of\nminds? For as everything is inanimate which is moved by an impulse\nexterior to itself, so what is animated is moved by an interior impulse\nof its own; for this is the peculiar nature and power of mind. And if\nthat alone has the power of self-motion, it can neither have had a\nbeginning, nor can it have an end.\n\nDo you, therefore, exercise this mind of yours in the best pursuits.\nAnd the best pursuits are those which consist in promoting the good of\nyour country. Such employments will speed the flight of your mind to\nthis its proper abode; and its flight will be still more rapid, if,\neven while it is enclosed in the body, it will look abroad, and\ndisengage itself as much as possible from its bodily dwelling, by the\ncontemplation of things which are external to itself.\n\nThis it should do to the utmost of its power. For the minds of those\nwho have given themselves up to the pleasures of the body, paying, as\nit were, a servile obedience to their lustful impulses, have violated\nthe laws of God and man; and therefore, when they are separated from\ntheir bodies, flutter continually round the earth on which they lived,\nand are not allowed to return to this celestial region till they have\nbeen purified by the revolution of many ages.\n\nThus saying, he vanished, and I awoke from my dream.\n\n\nA FRAGMENT.\n\n\nAnd although it is most desirable that fortune should remain forever in\nthe most brilliant possible condition, nevertheless, the equability of\nlife excites less interest than those changeable conditions wherein\nprosperity suddenly revives out of the most desperate and ruinous\ncircumstances.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n\n[1] Archilochus was a native of Paros, and flourished about 714-676\nB.C. His poems were chiefly Iambics of bitter satire. Horace speaks of\nhim as the inventor of Iambics, and calls himself his pupil.\n\n                  Parios ego primus Iambos\n    Ostendi Latio, numeros animosque secutus\n    Archilochi, non res et agentia verba Lycamben.\n                              Epist. I. xix. 25.\n\nAnd in another place he says,\n\n    Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Iambo--A.P. 74.\n\n[2] This was Livius Andronicus: he is supposed to have been a native of\nTarentum, and he was made prisoner by the Romans, during their wars in\nSouthern Italy; owing to which he became the slave of M. Livius\nSalinator. He wrote both comedies and tragedies, of which Cicero\n(Brutus 18) speaks very contemptuously, as \"Livianae fabulae non satis\ndignae quae iterum legantur\"--not worth reading a second time. He also\nwrote a Latin Odyssey, and some hymns, and died probably about 221 B.C.\n\n[3] C. Fabius, surnamed Pictor, painted the temple of Salus, which the\ndictator C. Junius Brutus Bubulus dedicated 302 B.C. The temple was\ndestroyed by fire in the reign of Claudius. The painting is highly\npraised by Dionysius, xvi. 6.\n\n[4] For an account of the ancient Greek philosophers, see the sketch at\nthe end of the Disputations.\n\n[5] Isocrates was born at Athens 436 B.C. He was a pupil of Gorgias,\nProdicus, and Socrates. He opened a school of rhetoric, at Athens, with\ngreat success. He died by his own hand at the age of ninety-eight.\n\n[6] So Horace joins these two classes as inventors of all kinds of\nimprobable fictions:\n\n                      Pictoribus atque poetis\n    Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas.--A. P. 9.\n\nWhich Roscommon translates:\n\n    Painters and poets have been still allow'd\n    Their pencil and their fancies unconfined.\n\n[7] Epicharmus was a native of Cos, but lived at Megara, in Sicily, and\nwhen Megara was destroyed, removed to Syracuse, and lived at the court\nof Hiero, where he became the first writer of comedies, so that Horace\nascribes the invention of comedy to him, and so does Theocritus. He\nlived to a great age.\n\n[8] Pherecydes was a native of Scyros, one of the Cyclades; and is said\nto have obtained his knowledge from the secret books of the\nPhoenicians. He is said also to have been a pupil of Pittacus, the\nrival of Thales, and the master of Pythagoras. His doctrine was that\nthere were three principles ([Greek: Zeus], or AEther; [Greek: Chthon],\nor Chaos; and [Greek: Chronos], or Time) and four elements (Fire,\nEarth, Air, and Water), from which everything that exists was\nformed.--_Vide_ Smith's Dict. Gr. and Rom. Biog.\n\n[9] Archytas was a native of Tarentum, and is said to have saved the\nlife of Plato by his influence with the tyrant Dionysius. He was\nespecially great as a mathematician and geometrician, so that Horace\ncalls him\n\n    Maris et terra numeroque carentis arenae\n    Mensorem.\n                              Od. i. 28.1.\n\nPlato is supposed to have learned some of his views from him, and\nAristotle to have borrowed from him every idea of the Categories.\n\n[10] This was not Timaeus the historian, but a native of Locri, who is\nsaid also in the De Finibus (c. 29) to have been a teacher of Plato.\nThere is a treatise extant bearing his name, which is, however,\nprobably spurious, and only an abridgment of Plato's dialogue Timaeus.\n\n[11] Dicaearchus was a native of Messana, in Sicily, though he lived\nchiefly in Greece. He was one of the later disciples of Aristotle. He\nwas a great geographer, politician, historian, and philosopher, and\ndied about 285 B.C.\n\n[12] Aristoxenus was a native of Tarentum, and also a pupil of\nAristotle. We know nothing of his opinions except that he held the soul\nto be a _harmony_ of the body; a doctrine which had been already\ndiscussed by Plato in the Phaedo, and combated by Aristotle. He was a\ngreat musician, and the chief portions of his works which have come\ndown to us are fragments of some musical treatises.--Smith's Dict. Gr.\nand Rom. Biog.; to which source I must acknowledge my obligation for\nnearly the whole of these biographical notes.\n\n[13] The Simonides here meant is the celebrated poet of Ceos, the\nperfecter of elegiac poetry among the Greeks. He flourished about the\ntime of the Persian war. Besides his poetry, he is said to have been\nthe inventor of some method of aiding the memory. He died at the court\nof Hiero, 467 B.C.\n\n[14] Theodectes was a native of Phaselis, in Pamphylia, a distinguished\nrhetorician and tragic poet, and flourished in the time of Philip of\nMacedon. He was a pupil of Isocrates, and lived at Athens, and died\nthere at the age of forty-one.\n\n[15] Cineas was a Thessalian, and (as is said in the text) came to Rome\nas ambassador from Pyrrhus after the battle of Heraclea, 280 B.C., and\nhis memory is said to have been so great that on the day after his\narrival he was able to address all the senators and knights by name. He\nprobably died before Pyrrhus returned to Italy, 276 B.C.\n\n[16] Charmadas, called also Charmides, was a fellow-pupil with Philo,\nthe Larissaean of Clitomachus, the Carthaginian. He is said by some\nauthors to have founded a fourth academy.\n\n[17] Metrodorus was a minister of Mithridates the Great; and employed\nby him as supreme judge in Pontus, and afterward as an ambassador.\nCicero speaks of him in other places (De Orat. ii. 88) as a man of\nwonderful memory.\n\n[18] Quintus Hortensius was eight years older than Cicero; and, till\nCicero's fame surpassed his, he was accounted the most eloquent of all\nthe Romans. He was Verres's counsel in the prosecution conducted\nagainst him by Cicero. Seneca relates that his memory was so great that\nhe could come out of an auction and repeat the catalogue backward. He\ndied 50 B.C.\n\n[19] This treatise is one which has not come down to us, but which had\nbeen lately composed by Cicero in order to comfort himself for the loss\nof his daughter.\n\n[20] The epigram is,\n\n    [Greek: Eipas Helie chaire, Kleombrotos Hombrakiotes\n      helat' aph' hypselou teicheos eis Aiden,\n    axion ouden idon thanatou kakon, alla Platonos\n      hen to peri psyches gramm' analexamenos.]\n\nWhich may be translated, perhaps,\n\n    Farewell, O sun, Cleombrotus exclaim'd,\n      Then plunged from off a height beneath the sea;\n    Stung by pain, of no disgrace ashamed,\n      But moved by Plato's high philosophy.\n\n[21] This is alluded to by Juvenal:\n\n    Provida Pompeio dederat Campania febres\n    Optandas: sed multae urbes et publica vota\n    Vicerunt. Igitur Fortuna ipsius et Urbis,\n    Servatum victo caput abstulit.--Sat. x. 283.\n\n[22] Pompey's second wife was Julia, the daughter of Julius Caesar, she\ndied the year before the death of Crassus, in Parthia. Virgil speaks of\nCaesar and Pompey as relations, using the same expression (socer) as\nCicero:\n\n    Aggeribus socer Alpinis atque arce Monoeci\n    Descendens, gener adversis instructus Eois.--AEn. vi. 830.\n\n[23] This idea is beautifully expanded by Byron:\n\n    Yet if, as holiest men have deem'd, there be\n    A land of souls beyond that sable shore\n    To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee\n    And sophist, madly vain or dubious lore,\n    How sweet it were in concert to adore\n    With those who made our mortal labors light,\n    To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more.\n    Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight,\n    The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the right!\n                              _Childe Harold_, ii.\n\n[24] The epitaph in the original is:\n\n    [Greek: O xein' angeilon Lakedaimoniois hoti tede\n      keimetha, tois keinon peithomenoi nomimois.]\n\n[25] This was expressed in the Greek verses,\n\n    [Greek: Arches men me phynai epichthonioisin ariston,\n    phynta d' hopos okista pylas Aidyo peresai]\n\nwhich by some authors are attributed to Homer.\n\n[26] This is the first fragment of the Cresphontes.--Ed. Var. vii., p.\n594.\n\n    [Greek: Edei gar hemas syllogon poioumenous\n    Ton phynta threnein, eis hos' erchetai kaka.\n    Ton d' au thanonta kai ponon pepaumenon\n    chairontas euphemointas ekpemein domon]\n\n[27] The Greek verses are quoted by Plutarch:\n\n        [Greek: Epou nepie, elithioi phrenes andron\n      Euthynoos keitai moiridio thanato\n    Ouk en gar zoein kalon auto oute goneusi.]\n\n[28] This refers to the story that when Eumolpus, the son of Neptune,\nwhose assistance the Eleusinians had called in against the Athenians,\nhad been slain by the Athenians, an oracle demanded the sacrifice of\none of the daughters of Erechtheus, the King of Athens. And when one\nwas drawn by lot, the others voluntarily accompanied her to death.\n\n[29] Menoeceus was son of Creon, and in the war of the Argives against\nThebes, Teresias declared that the Thebans should conquer if Menoeceus\nwould sacrifice himself for his country; and accordingly he killed\nhimself outside the gates of Thebes.\n\n[30] The Greek is,\n\n    [Greek: mede moi aklaustos thanatos moloi, alla philoisi\n      poiesaimi thanon algea kai stonachas.]\n\n[31] Soph. Trach. 1047.\n\n[32] The lines quoted by Cicero here appear to have come from the Latin\nplay of Prometheus by Accius; the ideas are borrowed, rather than\ntranslated, from the Prometheus of AEschylus.\n\n[33] From _exerceo_.\n\n[34] Each soldier carried a stake, to help form a palisade in front of\nthe camp.\n\n[35] Insania--from _in_, a particle of negative force in composition,\nand _sanus_, healthy, sound.\n\n[36] The man who first received this surname was L. Calpurnius Piso,\nwho was consul, 133 B.C., in the Servile War.\n\n[37] The Greek is,\n\n    [Greek: Alla moi oidanetai kradie cholo hoppot' ekeinou\n    Mnesomai hos m' asyphelon en Argeioisin erexen.]--Il. ix. 642.\n\nI have given Pope's translation in the text.\n\n[38] This is from the Theseus:\n\n    [Greek: Ego de touto para sophou tinos mathon\n    eis phrontidas noun symphoras t' eballomen\n    phygas t' emauto prostitheis patras emes.\n    thanatous t' aorous, kai kakon allas hodous\n    hos, ei ti paschoim' on edoxazon pote\n    Me moi neorton prospeson mallon dakoi.]\n\n[39] Ter. Phorm. II. i. 11.\n\n[40] This refers to the speech of Agamemnon in Euripides, in the\nIphigenia in Aulis,\n\n              [Greek: Zelo se, geron,\n    zelo d' andron hos akindynon\n    bion exeperas', agnos, aklees.]--v. 15.\n\n[41] This is a fragment from the Hypsipyle:\n\n    [Greek: Ephy men oudeis hostis ou ponei broton\n    thaptei te tekna chater' au ktatai nea,\n    autos te thneskei. kai tad' achthontai brotoi\n    eis gen pherontes gen anankaios d' echei\n    bion therizein hoste karpimon stachyn.]\n\n[42]\n    [Greek: Pollas ek kephales prothelymnous helketo chaitas.]--Il. x. 15.\n\n[43]\n    [Greek: Etoi ho kappedion to Aleion oios alato\n    hon thymon katedon, paton anthropon aleeinon.]--Il. vi. 201.\n\n[44] This is a translation from Euripides:\n\n    [Greek: Hosth' himeros m' hypelthe ge te k' ourano\n    lexai molouse deuro Medeias tychas.]--Med. 57.\n\n[45]\n    [Greek: Lien gar polloi kai epetrimoi emata panta\n    piptousin, pote ken tis anapneuseie ponoio;\n    alla chre ton men katathaptemen, hos ke thanesi,\n    nelea thymon echontas, ep' emati dakrysantas.]--\n                              Hom. Il. xix. 226.\n\n[46] This is one of the fragments of Euripides which we are unable to\nassign to any play in particular; it occurs Var. Ed. Tr. Inc. 167.\n\n    [Greek: Ei men tod' emar proton en kakoumeno\n    kai me makran de dia ponon enaustoloun\n    eikos sphadazein en an, hos neozyga\n    polon, chalinon artios dedegmenon\n    nyn d' amblys eimi, kai katertykos kakon.]\n\n[47] This is only a fragment, preserved by Stobaeus:\n\n    [Greek: Tous d' an megistous kai sophotatous phreni\n    toiousd' idois an, oios esti nyn hode,\n    kalos kakos prassonti symparainesai\n    hotan de daimon andros eutychous to prin\n    mastig' epise tou biou palintropon,\n    ta polla phrouda kai kakos eiremena.]\n\n[48]\n    [Greek: Ok. Oukoun Prometheu touto gignoskeis hoti\n      orges nosouses eisin iatroi logoi.\n    Pr. ean tis en kairo ge malthasse kear\n      kai me sphrigonta thymon ischnaine bia.]--\n                              AEsch. Prom. v. 378.\n\n[49] Cicero alludes here to Il. vii. 211, which is thus translated by\nPope:\n\n    His massy javelin quivering in his hand,\n    He stood the bulwark of the Grecian band;\n    Through every Argive heart new transport ran,\n    All Troy stood trembling at the mighty man:\n    E'en Hector paused, and with new doubt oppress'd,\n    Felt his great heart suspended in his breast;\n    'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to fear,\n    Himself had challenged, and the foe drew near.\n\nBut Melmoth (Note on the Familiar Letters of Cicero, book ii. Let. 23)\nrightly accuses Cicero of having misunderstood Homer, who \"by no means\nrepresents Hector as being thus totally dismayed at the approach of his\nadversary; and, indeed, it would have been inconsistent with the\ngeneral character of that hero to have described him under such\ncircumstances of terror.\"\n\n    [Greek: Ton de kai Argeioi meg' egetheon eisoroontes,\n    Troas de tromos ainos hypelythe gyia hekaston,\n    Hektori d' auto thymos eni stethessi patassen.]\n\nBut there is a great difference, as Dr. Clarke remarks, between [Greek:\nthymos eni stethessi patassen] and [Greek: kardee exo stetheon\nethrosken], or [Greek: tromos ainos hypelythe gyia].--_The Trojans_,\nsays Homer, _trembled_ at the sight of Ajax, and even Hector himself\nfelt some emotion in his breast.\n\n[50] Cicero means Scipio Nasica, who, in the riots consequent on the\nreelection of Tiberius Gracchus to the tribunate, 133 B.C., having\ncalled in vain on the consul, Mucius Scaevola, to save the republic,\nattacked Gracchus himself, who was slain in the tumult.\n\n[51] _Morosus_ is evidently derived from _mores_--\"_Morosus_, _mos_,\nstubbornness, self-will, etc.\"--Riddle and Arnold, Lat. Dict.\n\n[52] In the original they run thus:\n\n    [Greek: Ouk estin ouden deinon hod' eipein epos,\n    Oude pathos, oude xymphora theelatos\n    hes ouk an aroit' achthos anthropon physis.]\n\n[53] This passage is from the Eunuch of Terence, act i., sc. 1, 14.\n\n[54] These verses are from the Atreus of Accius.\n\n[55] This was Marcus Atilius Regulus, the story of whose treatment by\nthe Carthaginians in the first Punic War is well known to everybody.\n\n[56] This was Quintus Servilius Caepio, who, 105 B.C., was destroyed,\nwith his army, by the Cimbri, it was believed as a judgment for the\ncovetousness which he had displayed in the plunder of Tolosa.\n\n[57] This was Marcus Aquilius, who, in the year 88 B.C., was sent\nagainst Mithridates as one of the consular legates; and, being\ndefeated, was delivered up to the king by the inhabitants of Mitylene.\nMithridates put him to death by pouring molten gold down his throat.\n\n[58] This was the elder brother of the triumvir Marcus Crassus, 87 B.C.\nHe was put to death by Fimbria, who was in command of some of the\ntroops of Marius.\n\n[59] Lucius Caesar and Caius Caesar were relations (it is uncertain in\nwhat degree) of the great Caesar, and were killed by Fimbria on the same\noccasion as Octavius.\n\n[60] M. Antonius was the grandfather of the triumvir; he was murdered\nthe same year, 87 B.C., by Annius, when Marius and Cinna took Rome.\n\n[61] This story is alluded to by Horace:\n\n    Districtus ensis cui super impia\n    Cervice pendet non Siculae dapes\n      Dulcem elaborabunt saporem,\n        Non avium citharaeve cantus\n    Somnum reducent.--iii. 1. 17.\n\n[62] Hieronymus was a Rhodian, and a pupil of Aristotle, flourishing\nabout 300 B.C. He is frequently mentioned by Cicero.\n\n[63] We know very little of Dinomachus. Some MSS. have Clitomachus.\n\n[64] Callipho was in all probability a pupil of Epicurus, but we have\nno certain information about him.\n\n[65] Diodorus was a Syrian, and succeeded Critolaus as the head of the\nPeripatetic School at Athens.\n\n[66] Aristo was a native of Ceos, and a pupil of Lycon, who succeeded\nStraton as the head of the Peripatetic School, 270 B.C. He afterward\nhimself succeeded Lycon.\n\n[67] Pyrrho was a native of Elis, and the originator of the sceptical\ntheories of some of the ancient philosophers. He was a contemporary of\nAlexander.\n\n[68] Herillus was a disciple of Zeno of Cittium, and therefore a Stoic.\nHe did not, however, follow all the opinions of his master: he held\nthat knowledge was the chief good. Some of the treatises of Cleanthes\nwere written expressly to confute him.\n\n[69] Anacharsis was (Herod., iv., 76) son of Gnurus and brother of\nSaulius, King of Thrace. He came to Athens while Solon was occupied in\nframing laws for his people; and by the simplicity of his way of\nliving, and his acute observations on the manners of the Greeks, he\nexcited such general admiration that he was reckoned by some writers\namong the Seven Wise Men of Greece.\n\n[70] This was Appius Claudius Caecus, who was censor 310 B.C., and who,\naccording to Livy, was afflicted with blindness by the Gods for\npersuading the Potitii to instruct the public servants in the way of\nsacrificing to Hercules. He it was who made the Via Appia.\n\n[71] The fact of Homer's blindness rests on a passage in the Hymn to\nApollo, quoted by Thucydides as a genuine work of Homer, and which is\nthus spoken of by one of the most accomplished scholars that this\ncountry or this age has ever produced: \"They are indeed beautiful\nverses; and if none worse had ever been attributed to Homer, the Prince\nof Poets would have had little reason to complain.\n\n\"He has been describing the Delian festival in honor of Apollo and\nDiana, and concludes this part of the poem with an address to the women\nof that island, to whom it is to be supposed that he had become\nfamiliarly known by his frequent recitations:\n\n    [Greek: Chairete d' hymeis pasai, emeio de kai metopisthe\n    mnesasth', hoppote ken tis epichthonion anthropon\n    enthad' aneiretai xeinos talapeirios elthon\n    o kourai, tis d' hymmin aner hedistos aoidon\n    enthade poleitai kai teo terpesthe malista;\n    hymeis d' eu mala pasai hypokrinasthe aph' hemon,\n    Typhlos aner, oikei de Chio eni paipaloesse,\n    tou pasai metopisthen aristeuousin aoidai.]\n\n    Virgins, farewell--and oh! remember me\n    Hereafter, when some stranger from the sea,\n    A hapless wanderer, may your isle explore,\n    And ask you, 'Maids, of all the bards you boast,\n    Who sings the sweetest, and delights you most?'\n    Oh! answer all, 'A blind old man, and poor,\n    Sweetest he sings, and dwells on Chios' rocky shore.'\n\n                              _Coleridge's Introduction to the Study\n                              of the Greek Classic Poets._\n\n[72] Some read _scientiam_ and some _inscientiam;_ the latter of which\nis preferred by some of the best editors and commentators.\n\n[73] For a short account of these ancient Greek philosophers, see the\nsketch prefixed to the Academics (_Classical Library_).\n\n[74] Cicero wrote his philosophical works in the last three years of\nhis life. When he wrote this piece, he was in the sixty-third year of\nhis age, in the year of Rome 709.\n\n[75] The Academic.\n\n[76] Diodorus and Posidonius were Stoics; Philo and Antiochus were\nAcademics; but the latter afterward inclined to the doctrine of the\nStoics.\n\n[77] Julius Caesar.\n\n[78] Cicero was one of the College of Augurs.\n\n[79] The Latinae Feriae was originally a festival of the Latins, altered\nby Tarquinius Superbus into a Roman one. It was held in the Alban\nMount, in honor of Jupiter Latiaris. This holiday lasted six days: it\nwas not held at any fixed time; but the consul was never allowed to\ntake the field till he had held them.--_Vide_ Smith, Dict. Gr. and Rom.\nAnt., p. 414.\n\n[80] _Exhedra_, the word used by Cicero, means a study, or place where\ndisputes were held.\n\n[81] M. Piso was a Peripatetic. The four great sects were the Stoics,\nthe Peripatetics, the Academics, and the Epicureans.\n\n[82] It was a prevailing tenet of the Academics that there is no\ncertain knowledge.\n\n[83] The five forms of Plato are these: [Greek: ousia, tauton, heteron,\nstasis, kinesis.]\n\n[84] The four natures here to be understood are the four\nelements--fire, water, air, and earth; which are mentioned as the four\nprinciples of Empedocles by Diogenes Laertius.\n\n[85] These five moving stars are Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, and\nVenus. Their revolutions are considered in the next book.\n\n[86] Or, Generation of the Gods.\n\n[87] The [Greek: prolepsis] of Epicurus, before mentioned, is what he\nhere means.\n\n[88] [Greek: Steremnia] is the word which Epicurus used to distinguish\nbetween those objects which are perceptible to sense, and those which\nare imperceptible; as the essence of the Divine Being, and the various\noperations of the divine power.\n\n[89] Zeno here mentioned is not the same that Cotta spoke of before.\nThis was the founder of the Stoics. The other was an Epicurean\nphilosopher whom he had heard at Athens.\n\n[90] That is, there would be the same uncertainty in heaven as is among\nthe Academics.\n\n[91] Those nations which were neither Greek nor Roman.\n\n[92] _Sigilla numerantes_ is the common reading; but P. Manucius\nproposes _venerantes_, which I choose as the better of the two, and in\nwhich sense I have translated it.\n\n[93] Fundamental doctrines.\n\n[94] That is, the zodiac.\n\n[95] The moon, as well as the sun, is indeed in the zodiac, but she\ndoes not measure the same course in a month. She moves in another line\nof the zodiac nearer the earth.\n\n[96] According to the doctrines of Epicurus, none of these bodies\nthemselves are clearly seen, but _simulacra ex corporibus effluentia_.\n\n[97] Epicurus taught his disciples in a garden.\n\n[98] By the word _Deus_, as often used by our author, we are to\nunderstand all the Gods in that theology then treated of, and not a\nsingle personal Deity.\n\n[99] The best commentators on this passage agree that Cicero does not\nmean that Aristotle affirmed that there was no such person as Orpheus,\nbut that there was no such poet, and that the verse called Orphic was\nsaid to be the invention of another. The passage of Aristotle to which\nCicero here alludes has, as Dr. Davis observes, been long lost.\n\n[100] A just proportion between the different sorts of beings.\n\n[101] Some give _quos non pudeat earum Epicuri vocum;_ but the best\ncopies have not _non;_ nor would it be consistent with Cotta to say\n_quos non pudeat_, for he throughout represents Velleius as a perfect\nEpicurean in every article.\n\n[102] His country was Abdera, the natives of which were remarkable for\ntheir stupidity.\n\n[103] This passage will not admit of a translation answerable to the\nsense of the original. Cicero says the word _amicitia_ (friendship) is\nderived from _amor_ (love or affection).\n\n[104] This manner of speaking of Jupiter frequently occurs in Homer,\n\n    ----[Greek: pater andron te theon te,]\n\nand has been used by Virgil and other poets since Ennius.\n\n[105] Perses, or Perseus, the last king of Macedonia, was taken by\nCnaeus Octavius, the praetor, and brought as prisoner to Paullus AEmilius,\n167 B.C.\n\n[106] An exemption from serving in the wars, and from paying public\ntaxes.\n\n[107] Mopsus. There were two soothsayers of this name: the first was\none of the Lapithae, son of Ampycus and Chloris, called also the son of\nApollo and Hienantis; the other a son of Apollo and Manto, who is said\nto have founded Mallus, in Asia Minor, where his oracle existed as late\nas the time of Strabo.\n\n[108] Tiresias was the great Theban prophet at the time of the war of\nthe Seven against Thebes.\n\n[109] Amphiaraus was King of Argos (he had been one of the Argonauts\nalso). He was killed after the war of the Seven against Thebes, which\nhe was compelled to join in by the treachery of his wife Eriphyle, by\nthe earth opening and swallowing him up as he was fleeing from\nPericlymenus.\n\n[110] Calchas was the prophet of the Grecian army at the siege of Troy.\n\n[111] Helenus was a son of Priam and Hecuba. He is represented as a\nprophet in the Philoctetes of Sophocles. And in the AEneid he is also\nrepresented as king of part of Epirus, and as predicting to AEneas the\ndangers and fortunes which awaited him.\n\n[112] This short passage would be very obscure to the reader without an\nexplanation from another of Cicero's treatises. The expression here,\n_ad investigandum suem regiones vineae terminavit_, which is a metaphor\ntoo bold, if it was not a sort of augural language, seems to me to have\nbeen the effect of carelessness in our great author; for Navius did not\ndivide the regions, as he calls them, of the vine to find his sow, but\nto find a grape.\n\n[113] The Peremnia were a sort of auspices performed just before the\npassing a river.\n\n[114] The Acumina were a military auspices, and were partly performed\non the point of a spear, from which they were called Acumina.\n\n[115] Those were called _testamenta in procinctu_, which were made by\nsoldiers just before an engagement, in the presence of men called as\nwitnesses.\n\n[116] This especially refers to the Decii, one of whom devoted himself\nfor his country in the war with the Latins, 340 B.C., and his son\nimitated the action in the war with the Samnites, 295 B.C. Cicero\n(Tusc. i. 37) says that his son did the same thing in the war with\nPyrrhus at the battle of Asculum, though in other places (De Off. iii.\n4) he speaks of only two Decii as having signalized themselves in this\nmanner.\n\n[117] The Rogator, who collected the votes, and pronounced who was the\nperson chosen. There were two sorts of Rogators; one was the officer\nhere mentioned, and the other was the Rogator, or speaker of the whole\nassembly.\n\n[118] Which was Sardinia, as appears from one of Cicero's epistles to\nhis brother Quintus.\n\n[119] Their sacred books of ceremonies.\n\n[120] The war between Octavius and Cinna, the consuls.\n\n[121] This, in the original, is a fragment of an old Latin verse,\n\n    _----Terram fumare calentem._\n\n[122] The Latin word is _principatus_, which exactly corresponds with\nthe Greek word here used by Cicero; by which is to be understood the\nsuperior, the most prevailing excellence in every kind and species of\nthings through the universe.\n\n[123] The passage of Aristotle to which Cicero here refers is lost.\n\n[124] He means the Epicureans.\n\n[125] Here the Stoic speaks too plain to be misunderstood. His world,\nhis _mundus_, is the universe, and that universe is his great Deity,\n_in quo sit totius naturae principatus_, in which the superior\nexcellence of universal nature consists.\n\n[126] Athens, the seat of learning and politeness, of which Balbus will\nnot allow Epicurus to be worthy.\n\n[127] This is Pythagoras's doctrine, as appears in Diogenes Laertius.\n\n[128] He here alludes to mathematical and geometrical instruments.\n\n[129] Balbus here speaks of the fixed stars, and of the motions of the\norbs of the planets. He here alludes, says M. Bonhier, to the different\nand diurnal motions of these stars; one sort from east to west, the\nother from one tropic to the other: and this is the construction which\nour learned and great geometrician and astronomer, Dr. Halley, made of\nthis passage.\n\n[130] This mensuration of the year into three hundred and sixty-five\ndays and near six hours (by the odd hours and minutes of which, in\nevery fifth year, the _dies intercalaris_, or leap-year, is made) could\nnot but be known, Dr. Halley states, by Hipparchus, as appears from the\nremains of that great astronomer of the ancients. We are inclined to\nthink that Julius Caesar had divided the year, according to what we call\nthe Julian year, before Cicero wrote this book; for we see, in the\nbeginning of it, how pathetically he speaks of Caesar's usurpation.\n\n[131] The words of Censorinus, on this occasion, are to the same\neffect. The opinions of philosophers concerning this great year are\nvery different; but the institution of it is ascribed to Democritus.\n\n[132] The zodiac.\n\n[133] Though Mars is said to hold his orbit in the zodiac with the\nrest, and to finish his revolution through the same orbit (that is, the\nzodiac) with the other two, yet Balbus means in a different line of the\nzodiac.\n\n[134] According to late observations, it never goes but a sign and a\nhalf from the sun.\n\n[135] These, Dr. Davis says, are \"aerial fires;\" concerning which he\nrefers to the second book of Pliny.\n\n[136] In the Eunuch of Terence.\n\n[137] Bacchus.\n\n[138] The son of Ceres.\n\n[139] The books of Ceremonies.\n\n[140] This Libera is taken for Proserpine, who, with her brother Liber,\nwas consecrated by the Romans; all which are parts of nature in\nprosopopoeias. Cicero, therefore, makes Balbus distinguish between the\nperson Liber, or Bacchus, and the Liber which is a part of nature in\nprosopopoeia.\n\n[141] These allegorical fables are largely related by Hesiod in his\nTheogony.\n\nHorace says exactly the same thing:\n\n    Hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules\n    Enisus arces attigit igneas:\n      Quos inter Augustus recumbens\n        Purpureo bibit ore nectar.\n    Hac te merentem, Bacche pater, tuae\n    Vexere tigres indocili jugum\n      Collo ferentes: hac Quirinus\n        Martis equis Acheronta fugit.--Hor. iii. 3. 9.\n\n[142] Cicero means by _conversis casibus_, varying the cases from the\ncommon rule of declension; that is, by departing from the true\ngrammatical rules of speech; for if we would keep to it, we should\ndecline the word _Jupiter_, _Jupiteris_ in the second case, etc.\n\n[143] _Pater divumque hominumque._\n\n[144] The common reading is, _planiusque alio loco idem;_ which, as Dr.\nDavis observes, is absurd; therefore, in his note, he prefers _planius\nquam alia loco idem_, from two copies, in which sense I have translated\nit.\n\n[145] From the verb _gero_, to bear.\n\n[146] That is, \"mother earth.\"\n\n[147] Janus is said to be the first who erected temples in Italy, and\ninstituted religious rites, and from whom the first month in the Roman\ncalendar is derived.\n\n[148] _Stellae vagantes._\n\n[149] _Noctu quasi diem efficeret._ Ben Jonson says the same thing:\n\n    Thou that mak'st a day of night,\n    Goddess excellently bright.--_Ode to the Moon._\n\n[150] Olympias was the mother of Alexander.\n\n[151] Venus is here said to be one of the names of Diana, because _ad\nres omnes veniret;_ but she is not supposed to be the same as the\nmother of Cupid.\n\n[152] Here is a mistake, as Fulvius Ursinus observes; for the discourse\nseems to be continued in one day, as appears from the beginning of this\nbook. This may be an inadvertency of Cicero.\n\n[153] The senate of Athens was so called from the words [Greek: Areios\nPagos], the Village, some say the Hill, of Mars.\n\n[154] Epicurus.\n\n[155] The Stoics.\n\n[156] By _nulla cohaerendi natura_--if it is the right, as it is the\ncommon reading--Cicero must mean the same as by _nulla crescendi\nnatura_, or _coalescendi_, either of which Lambinus proposes; for, as\nthe same learned critic well observes, is there not a cohesion of parts\nin a clod, or in a piece of stone? Our learned Walker proposes _sola\ncohaerendi natura_, which mends the sense very much; and I wish he had\nthe authority of any copy for it.\n\n[157] Nasica Scipio, the censor, is said to have been the first who\nmade a water-clock in Rome.\n\n[158] The Epicureans.\n\n[159] An old Latin poet, commended by Quintilian for the gravity of his\nsense and his loftiness of style.\n\n[160] The shepherd is here supposed to take the stem or beak of the\nship for the mouth, from which the roaring voices of the sailors came.\n_Rostrum_ is here a lucky word to put in the mouth of one who never saw\na ship before, as it is used for the beak of a bird, the snout of a\nbeast or fish, and for the stem of a ship.\n\n[161] The Epicureans.\n\n[162] Greek, [Greek: aer]; Latin, _aer_.\n\n[163] The treatise of Aristotle, from whence this is taken, is lost.\n\n[164] To the universe the Stoics certainly annexed the idea of a\nlimited space, otherwise they could not have talked of a middle; for\nthere can be no middle but of a limited space: infinite space can have\nno middle, there being infinite extension from every part.\n\n[165] These two contrary reversions are from the tropics of Cancer and\nCapricorn. They are the extreme bounds of the sun's course. The reader\nmust observe that the astronomical parts of this book are introduced by\nthe Stoic as proofs of design and reason in the universe; and,\nnotwithstanding the errors in his planetary system, his intent is well\nanswered, because all he means is that the regular motions of the\nheavenly bodies, and their dependencies, are demonstrations of a divine\nmind. The inference proposed to be drawn from his astronomical\nobservations is as just as if his system was in every part\nunexceptionably right: the same may be said of his anatomical\nobservations.\n\n[166] In the zodiac.\n\n[167] Ibid.\n\n[168] These verses of Cicero are a translation from a Greek poem of\nAratus, called the Phaenomena.\n\n[169] The fixed stars.\n\n[170] The arctic and antarctic poles.\n\n[171] The two Arctoi are northern constellations. Cynosura is what we\ncall the Lesser Bear; Helice, the Greater Bear; in Latin, _Ursa Minor_\nand _Ursa Major_.\n\n[172] These stars in the Greater Bear are vulgarly called the \"Seven\nStars,\" or the \"Northern Wain;\" by the Latins, \"Septentriones.\"\n\n[173] The Lesser Bear.\n\n[174] The Greater Bear.\n\n[175] Exactly agreeable to this and the following description of the\nDragon is the same northern constellation described in the map by\nFlamsteed in his Atlas Coelestis; and all the figures here described by\nAratus nearly agree with the maps of the same constellations in the\nAtlas Coelestis, though they are not all placed precisely alike.\n\n[176] The tail of the Greater Bear.\n\n[177] That is, in Macedon, where Aratus lived.\n\n[178] The true interpretation of this passage is as follows: Here in\nMacedon, says Aratus, the head of the Dragon does not entirely immerge\nitself in the ocean, but only touches the superficies of it. By _ortus_\nand _obitus_ I doubt not but Cicero meant, agreeable to Aratus, those\nparts which arise to view, and those which are removed from sight.\n\n[179] These are two northern constellations. Engonasis, in some\ncatalogues called Hercules, because he is figured kneeling [Greek: en\ngonasin] (on his knees). [Greek: Engonasin kaleous'], as Aratus says,\nthey call Engonasis.\n\n[180] The crown is placed under the feet of Hercules in the Atlas\nCoelestis; but Ophiuchus ([Greek: Ophiouchos]), the Snake-holder, is\nplaced in the map by Flamsteed as described here by Aratus; and their\nheads almost meet.\n\n[181] The Scorpion. Ophiuchus, though a northern constellation, is not\nfar from that part of the zodiac where the Scorpion is, which is one of\nthe six southern signs.\n\n[182] The Wain of seven stars.\n\n[183] The Wain-driver. This northern constellation is, in our present\nmaps, figured with a club in his right hand behind the Greater Bear.\n\n[184] In some modern maps Arcturus, a star of the first magnitude, is\nplaced in the belt that is round the waist of Booetes. Cicero says\n_subter praecordia_, which is about the waist; and Aratus says [Greek:\nhypo zone], under the belt.\n\n[185] _Sub caput Arcti_, under the head of the Greater Bear.\n\n[186] The Crab is, by the ancients and moderns, placed in the zodiac,\nas here, between the Twins and the Lion; and they are all three\nnorthern signs.\n\n[187] The Twins are placed in the zodiac with the side of one to the\nnorthern hemisphere, and the side of the other to the southern\nhemisphere. Auriga, the Charioteer, is placed in the northern\nhemisphere near the zodiac, by the Twins; and at the head of the\nCharioteer is Helice, the Greater Bear, placed; and the Goat is a\nbright star of the first magnitude placed on the left shoulder of this\nnorthern constellation, and called _Capra_, the Goat. _Hoedi_, the\nKids, are two more stars of the same constellation.\n\n[188] A constellation; one of the northern signs in the zodiac, in\nwhich the Hyades are placed.\n\n[189] One of the feet of Cepheus, a northern constellation, is under\nthe tail of the Lesser Bear.\n\n[190] Grotius, and after him Dr. Davis, and other learned men, read\n_Cassiepea_, after the Greek [Greek: Kassiepeia], and reject the common\nreading, _Cassiopea_.\n\n[191] These northern constellations here mentioned have been always\nplaced together as one family with Cepheus and Perseus, as they are in\nour modern maps.\n\n[192] This alludes to the fable of Perseus and Andromeda.\n\n[193] Pegasus, who is one of Perseus and Andromeda's family.\n\n[194] That is, with wings.\n\n[195] _Aries_, the Ram, is the first northern sign in the zodiac;\n_Pisces_, the Fishes, the last southern sign; therefore they must be\nnear one another, as they are in a circle or belt. In Flamsteed's Atlas\nCoelestis one of the Fishes is near the head of the Ram, and the other\nnear the Urn of Aquarius.\n\n[196] These are called Virgiliae by Cicero; by Aratus, the Pleiades,\n[Greek: Pleiades]; and they are placed at the neck of the Bull; and one\nof Perseus's feet touches the Bull in the Atlas Coelestis.\n\n[197] This northern constellation is called Fides by Cicero; but it\nmust be the same with Lyra; because Lyra is placed in our maps as Fides\nis here.\n\n[198] This is called Ales Avis by Cicero; and I doubt not but the\nnorthern constellation Cygnus is here to be understood, for the\ndescription and place of the Swan in the Atlas Coelestis are the same\nwhich Ales Avis has here.\n\n[199] Pegasus.\n\n[200] The Water-bearer, one of the six southern signs in the zodiac: he\nis described in our maps pouring water out of an urn, and leaning with\none hand on the tail of Capricorn, another southern sign.\n\n[201] When the sun is in Capricorn, the days are at the shortest; and\nwhen in Cancer, at the longest.\n\n[202] One of the six southern signs.\n\n[203] Sagittarius, another southern sign.\n\n[204] A northern constellation.\n\n[205] A northern constellation.\n\n[206] A southern constellation.\n\n[207] This is Canis Major, a southern constellation. Orion and the Dog\nare named together by Hesiod, who flourished many hundred years before\nCicero or Aratus.\n\n[208] A southern constellation, placed as here in the Atlas Coelestis.\n\n[209] A southern constellation, so called from the ship Argo, in which\nJason and the rest of the Argonauts sailed on their expedition to\nColchos.\n\n[210] The Ram is the first of the northern signs in the zodiac; and the\nlast southern sign is the Fishes; which two signs, meeting in the\nzodiac, cover the constellation called Argo.\n\n[211] The river Eridanus, a southern constellation.\n\n[212] A southern constellation.\n\n[213] This is called the Scorpion in the original of Aratus.\n\n[214] A southern constellation.\n\n[215] A southern constellation.\n\n[216] The Serpent is not mentioned in Cicero's translation; but it is\nin the original of Aratus.\n\n[217] A southern constellation.\n\n[218] The Goblet, or Cup, a southern constellation.\n\n[219] A southern constellation.\n\n[220] Antecanis, a southern constellation, is the Little Dog, and\ncalled _Antecanis_ in Latin, and [Greek: Prokyon] in Greek, because he\nrises before the other Dog.\n\n[221] Pansaetius, a Stoic philosopher.\n\n[222] Mercury and Venus.\n\n[223] The proboscis of the elephant is frequently called a hand,\nbecause it is as useful to him as one. \"They breathe, drink, and smell,\nwith what may not be improperly called a hand,\" says Pliny, bk. viii.\nc. 10.--DAVIS.\n\n[224] The passage of Aristotle's works to which Cicero here alludes is\nentirely lost; but Plutarch gives a similar account.\n\n[225] Balbus does not tell us the remedy which the panther makes use\nof; but Pliny is not quite so delicate: he says, _excrementis hominis\nsibi medetur_.\n\n[226] Aristotle says they purge themselves with this herb after they\nfawn. Pliny says both before and after.\n\n[227] The cuttle-fish has a bag at its neck, the black blood of which\nthe Romans used for ink. It was called _atramentum_.\n\n[228] The Euphrates is said to carry into Mesopotamia a large quantity\nof citrons, with which it covers the fields.\n\n[229] Q. Curtius, and some other authors, say the Ganges is the largest\nriver in India; but Ammianus Marcellinus concurs with Cicero in calling\nthe river Indus the largest of all rivers.\n\n[230] These Etesian winds return periodically once a year, and blow at\ncertain seasons, and for a certain time.\n\n[231] Some read _mollitur_, and some _molitur;_ the latter of which P.\nManucius justly prefers, from the verb _molo_, _molis;_ from whence,\nsays he, _molares dentes_, the grinders.\n\n[232] The weasand, or windpipe.\n\n[233] The epiglottis, which is a cartilaginous flap in the shape of a\ntongue, and therefore called so.\n\n[234] Cicero is here giving the opinion of the ancients concerning the\npassage of the chyle till it is converted to blood.\n\n[235] What Cicero here calls the ventricles of the heart are likewise\ncalled auricles, of which there is the right and left.\n\n[236] The Stoics and Peripatetics said that the nerves, veins, and\narteries come directly from the heart. According to the anatomy of the\nmoderns, they come from the brain.\n\n[237] The author means all musical instruments, whether string or wind\ninstruments, which are hollow and tortuous.\n\n[238] The Latin version of Cicero is a translation from the Greek of\nAratus.\n\n[239] Chrysippus's meaning is, that the swine is so inactive and\nslothful a beast that life seems to be of no use to it but to keep it\nfrom putrefaction, as salt keeps dead flesh.\n\n[240] _Ales_, in the general signification, is any large bird; and\n_oscinis_ is any singing bird. But they here mean those birds which are\nused in augury: _alites_ are the birds whose flight was observed by the\naugurs, and _oscines_ the birds from whose voices they augured.\n\n[241] As the Academics doubted everything, it was indifferent to them\nwhich side of a question they took.\n\n[242] The keepers and interpreters of the Sibylline oracles were the\nQuindecimviri.\n\n[243] The popular name of Jupiter in Rome, being looked upon as\ndefender of the Capitol (in which he was placed), and stayer of the\nState.\n\n[244] Some passages of the original are here wanting. Cotta continues\nspeaking against the doctrine of the Stoics.\n\n[245] The word _sortes_ is often used for the answers of the oracles,\nor, rather, for the rolls in which the answers were written.\n\n[246] Three of this eminent family sacrificed themselves for their\ncountry; the father in the Latin war, the son in the Tuscan war, and\nthe grandson in the war with Pyrrhus.\n\n[247] The Straits of Gibraltar.\n\n[248] The common reading is, _ex quo anima dicitur;_ but Dr. Davis and\nM. Bouhier prefer _animal_, though they keep _anima_ in the text,\nbecause our author says elsewhere, _animum ex anima dictum_, Tusc. I.\n1. Cicero is not here to be accused of contradictions, for we are to\nconsider that he speaks in the characters of other persons; but there\nappears to be nothing in these two passages irreconcilable, and\nprobably _anima_ is the right word here.\n\n[249] He is said to have led a colony from Greece into Caria, in Asia,\nand to have built a town, and called it after his own name, for which\nhis countrymen paid him divine honors after his death.\n\n[250] Our great author is under a mistake here. Homer does not say he\nmet Hercules himself, but his [Greek: Eidolon], his \"visionary\nlikeness;\" and adds that he himself\n\n                   [Greek: met' athanatoisi theoisi\n    terpetai en thalies, kai echei kallisphyrou Heben,\n    paida Dios megaloio kai Heres chrysopedilou.]\n\nwhich Pope translates--\n\n    A shadowy form, for high in heaven's abodes\n    Himself resides, a God among the Gods;\n    There, in the bright assemblies of the skies,\n    He nectar quaffs, and Hebe crowns his joys.\n\n[251] They are said to have been the first workers in iron. They were\ncalled Idaei, because they inhabited about Mount Ida in Crete, and\nDactyli, from [Greek: daktyloi] (the fingers), their number being five.\n\n[252] From whom, some say, the city of that name was called.\n\n[253] Capedunculae seem to have been bowls or cups, with handles on each\nside, set apart for the use of the altar.--DAVIS.\n\n[254] See Cicero de Divinatione, and Ovid. Fast.\n\n[255] In the consulship of Piso and Gabinius sacrifices to Serapis and\nIsis were prohibited in Rome; but the Roman people afterward placed\nthem again in the number of their gods. See Tertullian's Apol. and his\nfirst book Ad Nationes, and Arnobius, lib. 2.--DAVIS.\n\n[256] In some copies Circe, Pasiphae, and AEa are mentioned together;\nbut AEa is rejected by the most judicious editors.\n\n[257] They were three, and are said to have averted a plague by\noffering themselves a sacrifice.\n\n[258] So called from the Greek word [Greek: thaumazo], to wonder.\n\n[259] She was first called Geres, from _gero_, to bear.\n\n[260] The word is _precatione_, which means the books or forms of\nprayers used by the augurs.\n\n[261] Cotta's intent here, as well as in other places, is to show how\nunphilosophical their civil theology was, and with what confusions it\nwas embarrassed; which design of the Academic the reader should\ncarefully keep in view, or he will lose the chain of argument.\n\n[262] Anactes, [Greek: Anaktes], was a general name for all kings, as\nwe find in the oldest Greek writers, and particularly in Homer.\n\n[263] The common reading is Aleo; but we follow Lambinus and Davis, who\nhad the authority of the best manuscript copies.\n\n[264] Some prefer Phthas to Opas (see Dr. Davis's edition); but Opas is\nthe generally received reading.\n\n[265] The Lipari Isles.\n\n[266] A town in Arcadia.\n\n[267] In Arcadia.\n\n[268] A northern people.\n\n[269] So called from the Greek word [Greek: nomos], _lex_, a law.\n\n[270] He is called [Greek: Opis] in some old Greek fragments, and\n[Greek: Oupis] by Callimachus in his hymn on Diana.\n\n[271] [Greek: Sabazios], Sabazius, is one of the names used for\nBacchus.\n\n[272] Here is a wide chasm in the original. What is lost probably may\nhave contained great part of Cotta's arguments against the providence\nof the Stoics.\n\n[273] Here is one expression in the quotation from Caecilius that is not\ncommonly met with, which is _praestigias praestrinxit;_ Lambinus gives\n_praestinxit_, for the sake, I suppose, of playing on words, because it\nmight then be translated, \"He has deluded my delusions, or stratagems;\"\nbut _praestrinxit_ is certainly the right reading.\n\n[274] The ancient Romans had a judicial as well as a military praetor;\nand he sat, with inferior judges attending him, like one of our\nchief-justices. _Sessum it praetor_, which I doubt not is the right\nreading, Lambinus restored from an old copy. The common reading was\n_sessum ite precor_.\n\n[275] Picenum was a region of Italy.\n\n[276] The _sex primi_ were general receivers of all taxes and tributes;\nand they were obliged to make good, out of their own fortunes, whatever\ndeficiencies were in the public treasury.\n\n[277] The Laetorian Law was a security for those under age against\nextortioners, etc. By this law all debts contracted under twenty-five\nyears of age were void.\n\n[278] This is from Ennius--\n\n    Utinam ne in nemore Pelio securibus\n    Caesa cecidisset abiegna ad terram trabes.\n\nTranslated from the beginning of the Medea of Euripides--\n\n    [Greek: Med' en napaisi Pelion pesein pote\n    tmetheisa peuke.]\n\n[279] Q. Fabius Maximus, surnamed Cunctator.\n\n[280] Diogenes Laertius says he was pounded to death in a stone mortar\nby command of Nicocreon, tyrant of Cyprus.\n\n[281] Elea, a city of Lucania, in Italy. The manner in which Zeno was\nput to death is, according to Diogenes Laertius, uncertain.\n\n[282] This great and good man was accused of destroying the divinity of\nthe Gods of his country. He was condemned, and died by drinking a glass\nof poison.\n\n[283] Tyrant of Sicily.\n\n[284] The common reading is, _in tympanidis rogum inlatus est_. This\npassage has been the occasion of as many different opinions concerning\nboth the reading and the sense as any passage in the whole treatise.\n_Tympanum_ is used for a timbrel or drum, _tympanidia_ a diminutive of\nit. Lambinus says _tympana_ \"were sticks with which the tyrant used to\nbeat the condemned.\" P. Victorius substitutes _tyrannidis_ for\n_tympanidis_.\n\n[285] The original is _de amissa salute;_ which means the sentence of\nbanishment among the Romans, in which was contained the loss of goods\nand estate, and the privileges of a Roman; and in this sense L'Abbe\nd'Olivet translates it.\n\n[286] The forty-seventh proposition of the first book of Euclid is\nunanimously ascribed to him by the ancients. Dr. Wotton, in his\nReflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning, says, \"It is indeed a\nvery noble proposition, the foundation of trigonometry, of universal\nand various use in those curious speculations about incommensurable\nnumbers.\"\n\n[287] These votive tables, or pictures, were hung up in the temples.\n\n[288] This passage is a fragment from a tragedy of Attius.\n\n[289] Hipponax was a poet at Ephesus, and so deformed that Bupalus drew\na picture of him to provoke laughter; for which Hipponax is said to\nhave written such keen iambics on the painter that he hanged himself.\n\nLycambes had promised Archilochus the poet to marry his daughter to\nhim, but afterward retracted his promise, and refused her; upon which\nArchilochus is said to have published a satire in iambic verse that\nprovoked him to hang himself.\n\n[290] Cicero refers here to an oracle approving of his laws, and\npromising Sparta prosperity as long as they were obeyed, which Lycurgus\nprocured from Delphi.\n\n[291] _Pro aris et focis_ is a proverbial expression. The Romans, when\nthey would say their all was at stake, could not express it stronger\nthan by saying they contended _pro aris et focis_, for religion and\ntheir firesides, or, as we express it, for religion and property.\n\n[292] Cicero, who was an Academic, gives his opinion according to the\nmanner of the Academics, who looked upon probability, and a resemblance\nof truth, as the utmost they could arrive at.\n\n[293] _I.e._, Regulus.\n\n[294] _I.e._, Fabius.\n\n[295] It is unnecessary to give an account of the other names here\nmentioned; but that of Laenas is probably less known. He was Publius\nPopillius Laenas, consul 132 B.C., the year after the death of Tiberius\nGracchus, and it became his duty to prosecute the accomplices of\nGracchus, for which he was afterward attacked by Caius Gracchus with\nsuch animosity that he withdrew into voluntary exile. Cicero pays a\ntribute to the energy of Opimius in the first Oration against Catiline,\nc. iii.\n\n[296] This phenomenon of the parhelion, or mock sun, which so puzzled\nCicero's interlocutors, has been very satisfactorily explained by\nmodern science. The parhelia are formed by the reflection of the\nsunbeams on a cloud properly situated. They usually accompany the\ncoronae, or luminous circles, and are placed in the same circumference,\nand at the same height. Their colors resemble that of the rainbow; the\nred and yellow are towards the side of the sun, and the blue and violet\non the other. There are, however, coronae sometimes seen without\nparhelia, and _vice versa_. Parhelia are double, triple, etc., and in\n1629, a parhelion of five suns was seen at Rome, and another of six\nsuns at Arles, 1666.\n\n[297] There is a little uncertainty as to what this age was, but it was\nprobably about twenty-five.\n\n[298] Cicero here gives a very exact and correct account of the\nplanetarium of Archimedes, which is so often noticed by the ancient\nastronomers. It no doubt corresponded in a great measure to our modern\nplanetarium, or orrery, invented by the earl of that name. This\nelaborate machine, whose manufacture requires the most exact and\ncritical science, is of the greatest service to those who study the\nrevolutions of the stars, for astronomic, astrologic, or meteorologic\npurposes.\n\n[299] The end of the fourteenth chapter and the first words of the\nfifteenth are lost; but it is plain that in the fifteenth it is Scipio\nwho is speaking.\n\n[300] There is evidently some error in the text here, for Ennius was\nborn 515 A.U.C., was a personal friend of the elder Africanus, and died\nabout 575 A.U.C., so that it is plain that we ought to read in the text\n550, not 350.\n\n[301] Two pages are lost here. Afterward it is again Scipio who is\nspeaking.\n\n[302] Two pages are lost here.\n\n[303] Both Ennius and Naevius wrote tragedies called \"Iphigenia.\" Mai\nthinks the text here corrupt, and expresses some doubt whether there is\na quotation here at all.\n\n[304] He means Scipio himself.\n\n[305] There is again a hiatus. What follows is spoken by Laelius.\n\n[306] Again two pages are lost.\n\n[307] Again two pages are lost. It is evident that Scipio is speaking\nagain in cap. xxxi.\n\n[308] Again two pages are lost.\n\n[309] Again two pages are lost.\n\n[310] Here four pages are lost.\n\n[311] Here four pages are lost.\n\n[312] Two pages are missing here.\n\n[313] A name of Neptune.\n\n[314] About seven lines are lost here, and there is a great deal of\ncorruption and imperfection in the next few sentences.\n\n[315] Two pages are lost here.\n\n[316] The _Lex Curiata de Imperio_, so often mentioned here, was the\nsame as the _Auctoritas Patrum_, and was necessary in order to confer\nupon the dictator, consuls, and other magistrates the _imperium_, or\nmilitary command: without this they had only a _potestas_, or civil\nauthority, and could not meddle with military affairs.\n\n[317] Two pages are missing here.\n\n[318] Here two pages are missing.\n\n[319] I have translated this very corrupt passage according to\nNiebuhr's emendation.\n\n[320] Assiduus, ab aere dando.\n\n[321] Proletarii, a prole.\n\n[322] Here four pages are missing.\n\n[323] Two pages are missing here.\n\n[324] Two pages are missing here.\n\n[325] Here twelve pages are missing.\n\n[326] Sixteen pages are missing here.\n\n[327] Here eight pages are missing.\n\n[328] A great many pages are missing here.\n\n[329] Several pages are lost here; the passage in brackets is found in\nNonius under the word \"exulto.\"\n\n[330] This and other chapters printed in smaller type are generally\npresumed to be of doubtful authenticity.\n\n[331] The beginning of this book is lost. The two first paragraphs\ncome, the one from St. Augustine, the other from Lactantius.\n\n[332] Eight or nine pages are lost here.\n\n[333] Here six pages are lost.\n\n[334] Here twelve pages are missing.\n\n[335] We have been obliged to insert two or three of these sentences\nbetween brackets, which are not found in the original, for the sake of\nshowing the drift of the arguments of Philus. He himself was fully\nconvinced that justice and morality were of eternal and immutable\nobligation, and that the best interests of all beings lie in their\nperpetual development and application. This eternity of Justice is\nbeautifully illustrated by Montesquieu. \"Long,\" says he, \"before\npositive laws were instituted, the moral relations of justice were\nabsolute and universal. To say that there were no justice or injustice\nbut that which depends on the injunctions or prohibitions of positive\nlaws, is to say that the radii which spring from a centre are not equal\ntill we have formed a circle to illustrate the proposition. We must,\ntherefore, acknowledge that the relations of equity were antecedent to\nthe positive laws which corroborated them.\" But though Philus was fully\nconvinced of this, in order to give his friends Scipio and Laelius an\nopportunity of proving it, he frankly brings forward every argument for\ninjustice that sophistry had ever cast in the teeth of reason.--_By the\noriginal Translator_.\n\n[336] Here four pages are missing. The following sentence is preserved\nin Nonius.\n\n[337] Two pages are missing here.\n\n[338] Several pages are missing here.\n\n[339] He means Alexander the Great.\n\n[340] Six or eight pages are lost here.\n\n[341] A great many pages are missing here.\n\n[342] Six or eight pages are missing here.\n\n[343] Several pages are lost here.\n\n[344] This and the following chapters are not the actual words of\nCicero, but quotations by Lactantius and Augustine of what they affirm\nthat he said.\n\n[345] Twelve pages are missing here.\n\n[346] Eight pages are missing here.\n\n[347] Six or eight pages are missing here.\n\n[348] Catadupa, from [Greek: kata] and [Greek: doipos], noise.","title":"Cicero's Tusculan Disputations: Also, Treatises On The Nature Of The Gods, And On The Commonwealth","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":181634}